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fantastic-rambles · 4 years ago

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Your Move [1]

Fandom: Yuukoku no Moriarty

Summary: I just wanted William to play chess with Sherlock because I’m a nerd. Starts shortly before the events of “Scandal in the British Empire” and will loosely follow the manga (hopefully). A real game is played throughout the story. [NOTE: Given the time period, there’s an argument to be made that they should be using descriptive notation, which was far more common in England at the time. But I personally believe that William would opt to use the more elegant algebraic notation. I also wanted to confuse John initially, not that that’s hard. Lol.]

Characters: Sherlock Holmes, William James Moriarty, John Watson, Louis James Moriarty, Sebastian Moran, Fred Porlock, Albert James Moriarty (mentioned)

Warnings: None.

Word Count: 2.5k

"Holmes! Hey, Holmes! Message for you!"

John and Sherlock looked up at the cheeky call, watching Wiggins run up to them while waving an envelope. It was about the size of a calling card, and after Sherlock accepted it and turned it over, they both saw that the front was blank.

"I've got orders to wait for your reply," Wiggins informed Sherlock with a grin, a shilling flashing briefly between his fingers before it disappeared. Curious, John peered over Sherlock's shoulder as he opened the envelope, pulling out a small card with a cryptic message written in a neat script.

1. e4 Your move, Mr. Detective.

But Sherlock seemed to have understood it immediately, given the way his face had lit up. Usually, he only looked that excited when he was solving an interesting case or talking about the mysterious Lord of Crime.

"John, give me a pen," Sherlock said, holding a hand out expectantly as he flipped the card over to the other side. Even though he was still confused, John obeyed, unclipping the pen from his pocket and handing it over. Grinning, the master detective scrawled "e6" onto the back before stuffing it back in the envelope and handing it to Wiggins, who immediately dashed off.

"What was that about, Sherlock?" John asked as he tucked his pen away again. "Something related to the Lord of Crime?"

"Nah, it was Liam. He must be in London today!" Sherlock's stride lengthened as he made as if to follow the urchin, and John had to hurry to catch up to his sudden energy. He'd only really seen William James Moriarty in passing, when he had been arrested on the train and subsequently exonerated, but Lestrade had told him afterwards about the young noble who had proved himself to be as intelligent as Sherlock. John found it hard to believe that there could be anyone who could compete with his flatmate, but he did feel a sense of gratitude to Moriarty for his contributions to securing his freedom.

Still, seeing how Sherlock could behave like a child… or rather, a child looking forward to playing with a friend (since he behaved like a child most of the time), John felt that he could believe Lestrade. Just talking to anyone else seemed to bore Sherlock since it was incredibly difficult--if not impossible--to keep up with him, so for him to actively seek out someone else suggested that, at the very least, he sincerely found them to be fascinating. John couldn't help feeling bad for William, though; Sherlock was difficult enough to deal with when he had no personal interest in someone. To be an object of his obsession seemed like it would be positively exhausting.

"Wait, Sherlock. Wiggins went that way," John pointed out as they crossed an intersection where he'd seen the boy turn left, but Sherlock shook his head.

"Do you really think I'm going to chase after a child? As long as I can figure out where Liam is, that's what's important. Taxi!"

John sighed, but he followed Sherlock into the hansom cab, listening to his friend give instructions to the driver. Their route brought them to the outskirts of London, depositing them outside a large manor, and John had a sinking feeling that he knew just who the owner was. Sherlock didn't hesitate to step inside the gates and walk up the broad walkway framed by carefully manicured gardens, while John followed more hesitantly.

"Sherlock, there's etiquette that should be observed when you're calling on someone," he whispered. If the card had really come from the second son of the Moriarty family, then wouldn't he be in town, rather than at home? John simply couldn't fathom how Sherlock had come to the conclusion that the man was here, and he hoped that his friend wouldn't make too much of a fuss when he was told otherwise.

"Don't be such a bore, John. Knowing Liam, he's probably expecting me." He rapped smartly on the door before John could reply. Bracing himself for the inevitable confrontation, John glanced around the grounds. There seemed to be a surprising lack of servants: John had only spotted one young-looking gardener kneeling by some rose bushes. He had looked up briefly as the two men passed by before returning to his work, and John wondered if the other workers were just taking a break. It hardly seemed likely that such a well-tended estate could be managed by just one worker.

When the door opened, a rather rough-looking butler looked out at the two of them, and John tried to look apologetic, but Sherlock didn't seem put off at all, speaking up before the other man could even inquire about their visit.

"Is Liam in?" Sherlock asked.

The man seemed to contemplate them for a little longer before turning around and calling, "Oi, Will, there's two blokes here to see you! I think one of them's that famous detective!"

His lack of propriety shocked John. Were the Moriartys some sort of eccentric family? Their servants certainly gave him that impression. Or maybe they had hired them out of noblesse oblige, giving them an opportunity to earn a living and learn how to work, so that they could find employment in other houses afterwards, as some other families did. After all, they had adopted and cared for two orphan children, one of whom had died in a fire, but the other one still lived with them. If so, that was rather admirable, though still odd, as there didn't appear to be any upper servants who would normally be given the role of training new workers. But before he could contemplate the situation further, a familiar face appeared in the doorway of another room.

"Mr. Holmes? And Dr. Watson?"

The young aristocrat approached the two of them, his expression curious, but not surprised.

"We were just about to have tea," William informed them. "Would you like to join us?"

"Thanks for the invitation!" Sherlock replied enthusiastically, stepping inside without any reservations. John followed more slowly, letting the butler close the door behind them. All three of them followed William through the room that he had appeared from, stepping out onto a low patio that looked out over the garden. William's adopted brother--Louis, if John remembered correctly--was standing by a table already set for afternoon tea, meticulously polishing one of the knives before setting it down. Four places had been set, which surprised John. It seemed that Sherlock had been right: William had been expecting them.

"Please, sit." William gestured to the chairs, and Sherlock and Louis immediately claimed the seats closest to him, leaving John to gingerly take his own seat across from William. Louis poured out the tea with a deft hand as Sherlock leaned towards William, his eyes glittering with excitement.

"So, Liam, what brings you to London? Another plot by the Lord of Crime?" he asked, plucking a scone off the platter and shoving it whole into his mouth. John, who had just begun to sip on his tea, choked. Seizing a napkin, he began to cough vigorously into it, his eyes huge. Was Sherlock really suggesting that William was a murderer, or at least working with one? His coughing fit prevented him from hearing most of the answer, but judging from William's face, he hadn't taken any offense at the accusation.

"... just helping Albert out," William was saying airily when John finally managed to get himself back under control. Taking a deep breath, he managed another sip of tea without incident before helping himself to a madeleine.

"Albert is your elder brother, right? And he's in the military?"

"He was, but he's been discharged. Currently, he's setting up a company to invest in trading companies or factories in England. After all, it would be beneficial to our society to support progress and provide people with opportunities to break free of the traditional system in which the poor are bound to the land they are born on, with no choice but to work for the gentry, don't you think?"

"Aaaah, that sort of stuff doesn't concern me," Sherlock replied, waving his hand dismissively, and John winced. Of course, he knew that Sherlock was the kind of person who completely ignored anything that didn't interest him, but for him to continue behaving in such a way when they were guests was deeply insulting to the host. "You're probably right, though, Liam. Anyways, it seems that my reply hasn't arrived yet? e6."

William arched an eyebrow, then leaned back and beckoned the butler over, murmuring something to him before turning back to Sherlock. "d4."

"d5."

They spat strange codes at each other, and John glanced at Louis, who looked irritated as he stared at Sherlock. John couldn't blame him: if William was half as obnoxious as Sherlock when it came to flaunting his intellect, then the other man must have also gone through a lot. Feeling as though the two of them had been left out of whatever was happening, John leaned towards the other man.

"The tea is very nice," he said awkwardly, but at least it caught Louis' attention.

"Thank you," Louis replied with some stiffness.

"Do you know what they're doing?"

Just as Louis was about to reply, William and Sherlock's next exchange answered the question for him, though it seemed that they were using some sort of system that John was unfamiliar with.

"Knight to c3."

"Bishop to b4."

"e5."

"c5."

By then, the butler had reappeared with a chess board, placing it down between Sherlock and William. As William reached out to move a piece, Sherlock chuckled.

"You can't expect me to believe that you need that, Liam. Come on, let's keep going."

But William just smiled as he continued to rearrange the board.

"There's a certain charm in moving the pieces yourself, Mr. Holmes. It's easy to just use words to command others, but if you distance yourself from the feeling of having their lives in your hands, it's very easy to forget what's important. A game of chess is ultimately a game of war, and even the pieces that fall to the wayside or are sacrificed should have their value remembered. Don't you agree, Dr. Watson?"

"Excuse me?" John blinked, surprised to be suddenly addressed, and William picked up a bishop, toying idly with the carved birch piece.

"As an army doctor, you would have a better insight into this discussion, wouldn't you?" William asked, staring at him intently. John was reminded of the unwavering stare of a viper, coiled in the trenches and ready to strike at any man unwary enough to walk about without checking if there was anything underfoot. "To you, are the men you treated, or those who died on the operating table, just numbers? Or did they have names and families, reasons to travel so far from home to die in a distant land?"

"Well..." John shifted uncomfortably, his mind shying away from those memories, so he was relieved when Sherlock suddenly reached out and grabbed William's hand.

"Oi, Liam, it's just a game. Make your move already."

William blinked, and the intense pressure that John was feeling faded. "Ah. I apologize if my questions upset you, Dr. Watson. Excessive curiosity is not a very attractive trait, I'm afraid, but it is one of my flaws."

He contemplated the board briefly before placing down the piece in his hand. "Bishop to d2."

"Brother," Louis interrupted softly. "We're supposed to meet Albert soon."

"Is it that time already?" William pulled out a pocket watch, opening it to examine the dial. Then, he snapped it closed again, getting to his feet and straightening his clothing. "I do apologize, gentlemen, but we have a prior engagement. If you'll just wait a short while, Mr. Moran will call you a cab."

"Eh, don't be such a killjoy, Liam. You're heading into town, right? You could give us a ride," Sherlock protested, but William shook his head, smiling enigmatically.

"Unfortunately, I would not be good company. There are several documents that I was planning to go over this afternoon, so I'll need to catch up on them in the carriage instead. But it was worth it, as this was far more enjoyable. Mr. Holmes, Dr. Watson." He inclined his head slightly in a clear farewell, leaving the patio with his brother trailing behind him.

"Liam! Knight to e7!" Sherlock called after him before slumping back in his chair. He reached out to nudge his knight forward before sighing and tilting his head back to stare at the sky. John recognized the signs for the start of one of his flatmate's dark moods, but fortunately, the butler came to fetch them before Sherlock tried to do anything extreme. Again, John was struck by how unprofessional the man seemed as he ushered them out the door and into the waiting carriage.

"Sherlock, what do you think of the butler? Mr. Moran?" John asked in an attempt to distract his friend as the horses clopped through the gate. Sherlock was digging around in his pockets, eventually pulling out his cigarette case and taking one out.

"Match," he ordered brusquely, and John handed him the requested match, waiting for him to light his cigarette and take a long drag. Only after that did Sherlock deign to answer his question.

"He isn't a butler by trade. He was a soldier before--an officer, most likely, since he seems to come from a noble family. He probably saw a lot of men that he cared about die while he was abroad, but unlike you, he seems to be mostly over it now. Perhaps you should ask him for a referral to his therapist."

John frowned. "What's a man like that doing as a butler?"

"What's an army doctor doing as an assistant to the world's only consulting detective?" Sherlock retorted. "People have their own circumstances, and their decisions don't always make sense to others. What?"

John was gaping at his friend as though he'd suddenly grown another head.

"What?" Sherlock repeated, and John shook off his surprise slowly.

"I didn't expect you to actually show consideration towards someone else," he replied, his eyebrows still raised.

"What are you talking about? What about Hope?" Sherlock pointed out, sounding mildly irritated, as he usually did whenever John pointed out something patently obvious--at least to Sherlock. But before John could respond, the carriage stopped, and their driver announced, "221 Baker Street!"

They exited the cab, and as they were crossing the threshold of 221B, John suddenly remembered another, more pressing issue.

"And what was that about? Accusing William of being the Lord of Crime? Even as a joke, that was incredibly rude of you!" he reprimanded Sherlock, only to be taken aback when the other man actually laughed out loud. The suddenness of it even prompted Miss Hudson to poke her head around the corner to see what was happening.

"He's brilliant, isn't he? But you don't need to worry about that, John. He's just playing along, like he did on the train. God, if he really was the Lord, it would be perfect!"

Still laughing, he headed upstairs. John exchanged an exasperated look with Miss Hudson's confused one, then headed up himself.

[Part 2]

#yuukoku no moriarty #moriarty the patriot #yuumori #ynm #fanfic #fan fic #sherlock holmes #william james moriarty #john watson #louis james moriarty #sebastian moran #fred porlock #albert james moriarty #mine #fun trivia: if the card was treated as an actual calling/visiting card then sherlock was rude as fuck #because receiving the card in an envelope means please don't visit me #and the extra settings were actually supposed to be for moran and fred lol

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bloodlinevalentine · 5 years ago

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Helena (1)

Some nautical krii7y written for my personal aesthetic mostly that I thought I may just share with you guys. In fact, I was so hyped that I didn't even really proofread lol :)

[BTW, if you like my writing (by whatever miracle) you can expect an unholy amount of BBS and GBG Christmas stuff incoming in the next month and a half:]

Ice cold. That's what Smitty's mind screams the moment he regains consciousness.

He gasps twice very hard, once as his face is flooded with the feeling and taste of salty seawater, and again when he feels the overwhelming pain in his chest. His eyes take a moment to adjust to the stinging and darkness, blinking chunks of mucus and foggy tears away, before they allow him to see the ship around him.

He registers quickly that the wooden splinters in his back prodding at his skin are from the deck of the ship, which is not even his ship he notices, and twists into a sitting position. He is lying face up in a slight divot, the boards pushed in no doubt from the force of his body slamming into them, if the already deep-set pain in his bones was anything to go by. It was also likely what knocked him unconscious, he realizes absently.

With some difficulty, he manages to completely pull himself from the creaky floorboards, but not without jostling a bloody gash in his arm. He pauses and tries to assess it, but it's more or less out of his field of vision, the only evidence of it being the spotty drops of blood staining the light wood red, just now beginning to ebb away. How long had he been out cold?

He shakes his curiosity away and stands, finding a much better vantage position on his feet. Right now, what he needs to focus on is strictly getting back to his ship and helping his crew with the recovery. He couldn't remember much, but he could at least gather that this fight must have been a nasty one. They were probably strung somewhere worried and furious at his disappearance. He needed a compass, but right now he would have to make do with using the north star.

Above him, the sky is a mess of puffy clouds, dim yet plentiful stars, and their weak light competing with the reflective moon. He catches himself staring for a moment, and realizes that the lights were slowly getting further and further away: he had to be falling very slowly.

He runs over to the rails and looks over to discover that yes, the ship is sinking, and the nearest island is too far to simply swim to if he wants to live. He plops down right where he's standing, panting in a panicked sweat. This was how it would end for him, lost aboard an enemy ship with an island just close enough to be a blue blur off to the distance and nothing more. His heart hammers inside his chest so hard he thinks he might be able to hear it.

Suddenly, a harsh wave strikes the ship, almost knocking him overboard as it forces it into a near-horizontal tilt. His fingernails split and his knuckles go white as he grips the rail for his life, fear lacing his blood like oxygen. The severity of the wound in his arm is still unidentified and screams sonic protests that he is forced to ignore. There must be a whirlpool just off the distance, spinning and sucking water into it and causing some sort of backlash pulling system, his brain supplies weakly, but it does little to quell his rising panic. He forces himself to catch his breath as the ship is uprighted and left to rock in place. He needs a plan and he needs it fast.

Smitty looks over at the island again, really eyeing the distance and chewing his lip in thought. Brown eyes flicker back between the railing and the dense line of trees, counting paces, praying to deities he hasn’t thought of since childhood. After a moment, he decides that if there is anything he needs to do, it's try. It seems like the only chance he has at surviving right now, but even the thought makes him swallow thickly.

Well, the very least he should do before he goes is to search the ship.

He dashes over to a ladder and hatch near the wheel, but pauses short on the steps. The second floor had long since begun to take on water, and now was over halfway full, still rising. The only things still visible were the barrels that this crew had used to likely store food, and a chest full to the brim with riches. He toys with the idea of wading through the water, but ultimately shrugs and settles for a bag hanging haphazardly from one of the ceiling beams. A quick rummage inside shows a few gold coins and a beaded necklace, but nothing overly personal. Perfect.

Next, Smitty makes to run into the navigation port and pick up something like a compass and a map, but he quickly realizes that those are useless after they’ve been wet, and there are no small rowboats in his vicinity. They would be ruined after the swim.

And that’s where his mind is when he sees the man.

It’s not until he turns back to cut his losses and head down the ladder that he spots another figure, slumped in half on one of the planks leading up over the edge of the ship. He can’t see much from this angle, but the body spasms and twitches with life even though it appears so dead.

Carefully, he approaches and watches for any sudden movements, but the person, distinctly male he can see as he nears, is completely unconscious. He can’t help but feel a tug on his heartstrings.

Smitty winces, but drops his bag and reaches down, dragging thin arms around his shoulders to hoist the body up onboard, but stops short. God, the guy is heavy.

It’s odd, considering how normally sized the person seems, but he just shakes his head, squints down at the rising water levels, and pulls with all of his available strength. The body follows, and he gets the wind knocked out of him under the force with which it comes crashing onto his chest. He lies there for a moment, panting and staring up at the sky again before he rolls himself free, only to gasp at the creature lying next to him.

The upper half was just as he had become well acquainted with, curly brown hair and oddly bare chest aside, the figure looked strikingly human. But the bottom half consisted of a long, thick, and shimmering tail where legs should have been. What he had thought before was a man had turned out to be a merman!

It's a slight wrestle between Smitty’s self-preservation instincts and his inner curiosity, but in the end, he knows that he cannot bring himself to leave the being there to die, no matter the species

He finds himself chewing his lip again, but there is really nothing he can do in such little time, but jump and hope for the best. Unceremoniously, he leans over and angles the torso to rest over his shoulders and around his neck, perhaps his best option for transporting it. Then, he pulls the string within his bag and secures it to the threadbare loops in his pants so that it safe while he swims. With that done to the best of his bloody and shaky ability, there is only one thing left to do.

Smitty feels the wooden planks with an awakened sort of clarity as he climbs off the edge of the hull. The soggy rope, frayed and waterlogged, threatens to tear under his weight as he rocks with the waves. His eyes bounce between the restless ocean and still unconscious face next to his as his nerves spike again. He feels another deathly tilt, and this time the boat really does tip so far that there's no going back: it's going to capsize for sure. It takes more strength than he sure he has in all of his body to gather his faith in himself. The deep breath is not nerve-steeling enough to reassure him, but he leaps off the ladder and plunging into the water anyway, the lifeless figure gracelessly falling from its perch around his neck and following him down, the rope tethering him to the bag dancing wildly in the air.

He begins sinking the moment he hits, the sudden temperature change being the first to register on his skin. It is surprisingly therapeutic, even as it breaks him out in gooseflesh and instates the urge to shiver himself right off of his bones. The salt burns across the deep wound in his arm, pulling a hiss from his parted lips, but the sound is swallowed up by the bubbles in the ocean. He pries his eyes open and heads to break the surface, but just as he gasps, he feels an agonizing impact from above. Through the fireworks exploding throughout his vision, Smitty sees the distorted image of the prone figure come crashing down onto him before the world goes black.

Overhead, a flock of birds split apart from their formation and slowly drift until they're all going their own directions.

🕸 🕸 🕸 🕸 🕸 🕸 🕸

The ship was going down very quickly now, taking his last hope of survival with it. If anything, he was lucky to be alive after that encounter but was doomed because of it, and maybe he had done more bad than good "rescuing" this man. If he perhaps had more time to salvage what he could maybe gather some food, he may have had a better chance. The real question was how quickly would he this end for them.

John feels every muscle in his body screech for relief, but he forces himself to keep going. The wind is foreign on his soft skin, and his very bones seem to creak under the weight they are forced to support, bent akimbo to hold the body over the water.

However, he ignores the pleading and continues above the surface. The pirate is limp and heavy in his arms, even heavier when his muscles are so weak, but he knows that the creature is a human, and too much water inside them kills. His lips fall open idly and he squints to see the hazy alcove before him. Hope rises in his chest the closer they manage to drift towards it, but they're still too far to make it before he succumbs to fatigue.

With wobbly arms and a slight prayer to whatever would listen, John straightens his arms into the air and sinks below the surface, hoping the angle is enough to keep the human’s head out of the water. Immediate relief bustles through his system as he gasps heavily. His muscles thank him as the water eases the load, but he knows he can't stay like this. Nothing above the water is visible, and he can't navigate around the pesky schools when it's so dark. The air bites harshly at his fingertips, which have long since lost sensation aside from the fiery heat of the pirate's rough, dirty flesh. He takes a few more labored breaths before his arms threaten to buckle and he's stuck breaking out above the waves.

John doesn't know for sure how long he does it, or how he does it at all, but eventually, he's flapping his tail in short, sharp movements to carefully maneuver through the entrance to the cove. Dragging the lifeless body felt lighter than the bag locked between his teeth with all the euphoria thrumming through his blood. He felt like he was on fire, and he didn't need to touch the clammy skin of his comrade to know he was probably stone cold. In a sweep of pride and pure unadulterated joy, he swings the body past his own and onto the black sand. His shiny green eyes roll back as he sinks into the water to just stop and breathe. He'd saved the human!

He rises up to look at the figure, triumphant grin still locked in place, but the person is still and lifeless in the sand. Fear traces John's features, and he pulls himself up onto the shore to get a better look. He runs a hand across the face and presses his head to the cloth clad shirt, but the human is indeed breathing, if shallowly and in small pants.

That alone makes him feels grateful, but the thought doesn't last. The human is cold, injured, and perhaps even starving. He’ll need a fire if he doesn't want to freeze to death, and desperately needs something to cover that vicious cut for the night. The only thing the human has to protect himself is a short, dull dagger, chipped and dirty from what must have been years of use. John's teeth clench; it seemed like just when he thought he was out of hell another gate opened up. In a somewhat childish fit of rage, he curls his still hot fingers into a fist and slams it onto the human, hoping to will him awake.

And, it works. Sort of.

Water spouts out of the pirate's mouth like a geyser and his brain snaps into consciousness. John watches in slight fear as the human coughs and sputters more and more murky water filled with mucus and other fluid slime, dragging himself onto his side. It seems to help, as the human's fit comes to an end and his eyes finally fall open.

🕸 🕸 🕸 🕸 🕸 🕸 🕸

Smitty flops bonelessly onto his back and stares wide-eyed and shocked at what must be the roof of a cave. His chest burns just like his skin in that way that suggests it's from extreme cold, and a subconscious groan escapes his lips. He takes a moment to just breathe and feel his heartbeat hammer away at his chest. A shaky hand raises to wipe the salt caking the area around his eyes push his hair out of his face. Well, it looked like he’d survived anyway.

A shuffling off to his side brings him to the present, and a quick glance over makes him do a double-take. Laying next to him in the dark sand is the gorgeous merman, sprawled out with arms protectively curled around Smitty's own form.

"You're a mermaid." He says, voice hoarse and scratchy, and it sends him into another coughing fit. The merman pulls himself away from his prone figure but holds a hand out to help steady him, even after Smitty's natural flinch in response. He allows himself to be dragged into a proper sitting position, which also gives him the ability to properly breathe.

The creature watches him take a few breaths before deeming him not on the verge of death and nods hesitantly. A closer look reveals familiar wisps of brown hair and moonlight pale skin. It was indeed the merman he'd dragged off the enemy's ship before he blacked out.

"You saved me?" He asks, but it sounds less like a question and more like a comment. The merman's eyebrows draw together at the words, and he shakes his head.

"I was only returning the favor. It was you who saved me first." He says quietly, but his voice reverberates heavily through the empty cove, although it is just as scratchy as Smitty's.

"Well thank you anyway." He concedes, clearing his throat and running a hand through his knotted hair, but the merman only shakes his head back.

"You don't need to thank me.” He says, voice much clearer now, as he re-positions himself into a crawl. Smitty watches delicate hands find purchase in the dark sand and begin dragging his ill-suited body back into the pool. “What you need is to get out of those wet clothes and get a fire started."

"You're right," Smitty says and winces into a stand. He makes it a good twenty seconds of attempting to shuck off his lone boot, having long since lost the other one in his impromptu trip, but finds that he’s not quite ready to be entirely upright just yet. He sits back down and his head thanks him as he slips his jacket over his shoulders and pulls his shoe off. His ripped brown shirt is next, but he hesitates with pants.

When he realizes why the human is staring at him so expectantly, the merman feels the strong desire to roll his eyes.

"Alright. While you do your thing, I'm gonna go find us something to eat." He sighs, face darkening slightly as he speaks. He opens his mouth as though to add something else, but gives up and turns to dive into the shallow pool.

"Wait!" Smitty calls, and he pauses for a moment, confusion crossing his subtle features as he twists back to face the human. Smitty crouches into a seat at one of the higher edges of the shoreline.

"What's your name?" He asks softly, now that they were so close. The merman stares up at him for a moment in consideration before seeming to mentally shrug and cock a brow.

"You can call me John."

Smitty nods lightly and brings a calloused, bruised hand to grip at the cold stone. "Well John, I'm Smitty," he conjures up what he hopes is a charming smile, "And I really do mean it when I say thank you."

John's eyes widen ever so slightly and fierce violet rises into his cheeks. He nods once before finally sinking into the water and taking his leave. Smitty watches him swim away until there is no trace of him in the cave, before he finally allows himself to attend to the agony of his cut.

All that aside, however, he can’t seem to wipe the grin off his face. He’d met a real mermaid today.

#krii7y #SMii7Y #KryozGaming #mermaids #pirates #stress relief #i am actually pretty happy with this one #and other fun stories to tell yourself #blood on paper

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littlepurinsesu · 5 years ago

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V Watches MagiReco - Episode 4 Review

*Spoilers for Magia Record Anime Episode 4*

Tsuruno is finally here!!!!! (♥ω♥) MagiReco just doesn’t feel like MagiReco without the mightiest magical girl, so her appearance this week was definitely a long awaited one! (๑>ᴗ<๑)

This episode felt significantly slower than the previous one, with a lot more “downtime” and much less action. I did feel a tiny bit bored during some parts, but I do think this was a much-needed breath of air after the fast-paced episode last week :) And anyway, Tsuruno’s mere presence brings plenty of energy already, so perhaps a relatively more “calm” episode would have complemented her introduction the best way!

In short: I loved Tsuruno’s debut. Changing her debut to being at Banbanzai instead of the train station was a very good decision, in my opinion: it allows her to be introduced with the restaurant that makes up such a large part of her character. She’s exactly as I imagined in the game: overflowing with energy, filled with sunshine, and just so, so, so cute!!! The way she literally twirls around all over the place and leans in so close to Iroha with her leg kicking behind her so that she’s almost falling onto the table... it’s like she legitimately cannot stay still even for just one second xD And they even had her say a few of her “battle lines” from the game, which was a really nice touch!

Also, just that gigantic bowl of ramen is already terrifying enough. That PLUS all the other stuff she served Iroha? Did Iroha really manage to finish all of that? O___O And the 50-points joke made a very early and timely debut haha it’s even more hilarious to see in action, and Tsuruno’s reaction was priceless as expected xD

I also appreciate the nice little detail that Mitama really is like a bridge between magical girls in Kamihama. She knows everyone and is happy to introduce magical girls to other magical girls that can help them out. Her signature on the Banbanzai flyer is so cute, too! And it’s nice to see Team Momoko still hanging around Iroha and being a part of the picture even if they’re no longer the focus (unlike whatever the heck happened to Kuroe LOL). Kaede first offering Rena some food and then putting food into her mouth to shut her up was also adorable. Really goes to show how much of a good grip she has on Rena despite being the more meek and timid one in personality heh heh.

By the way, Mitama, tomato sauce does NOT go on cake like that!!! A tiny detail I missed at first, but another good clue as to just how terrible of a cook Mitama is xD (I think this is a really good example of how the MagiReco anime has so many tiny details that seem unimportant but speak a lot about the characters, whether it’s interesting quirks or unusual habits and mannerisms etc.)

Tsuruno’s meeting with Yachiyo was perfect. I mean, just this face alone pretty much sealed the deal for me lmao:

They do a really good job at highlighting the contrast between these two characters, both in regards to how they treat Iroha and how they associate with each other. You can see how happy Tsuruno is at being with Yachiyo again and how hard she’s trying to reignite their old friendship, while Yachiyo reacts coldly and distantly (ouch). I can’t really remember if they included this in the game, but it’s a nice way to foreshadow the reveal that they used to be on a team before Yachiyo broke them all up, so I’m really looking forward to that revelation later on.

The cameo of Ria and Manaka seemed... random? xD I guess they really are going through with the pattern of having at least one cameo of a minor character each episode, but this particular one just didn’t make much sense to me ^^;; I don’t really know what Ria was getting all worked up about? Were she and Manaka also doing the stamp game and were therefore getting competitive? Or was it just because of her competitive spirit whenever she bumps into Yachiyo? It’s most likely the latter, but in that case, that really would make it an “inside joke” that only game players who know about this running gag will understand. Which I... personally don’t think is a very wise thing to do, honestly? >_< They’re nice little easter eggs for players, but they need to make sense to people who are going into the anime blind as well. The Ren and Mayu cameos worked perfectly well and made sense even for non-gamers. But this week’s one? Not so much. But yeah, I’m rambling for a whole paragraph about literally just a few seconds of footage, so maybe it really isn’t that big of a deal haha. Also, I don’t wanna be one of those people who nitpick and complain at every tiny difference, but I really do think Ria looks prettier with the slightly more orange-tinged blonde rather than the straw yellow shade they chose for the anime ^^;;

That legend about the princess and her lover was animated very nicely. The style is almost reminiscent of Kyoko’s backstory, and there’s so much symbolism in every frame and shot (which I won’t even attempt to dissect; I’m sure someone else will do it better than me! ;D). I also really liked that dark twist at the end of the story, too, and the way the mysterious characters surround Iroha and Yachiyo as they walked together adds a nice touch of that “what is reality” vibe that PMMM does so well.

As for the witch fight, I think this is probably the most critical I’m going to sound ever since I started writing these anime episode reviews. Too fast, too easy, too insignificant. To be honest, I didn’t even think that battle was necessary, apart from allowing them to show Tsuruno in her magical girl form. Almost all the witches so far haven’t put up much of a fight, and have been one-shotted really quickly: Zenobia by Yachiyo in Episode 1, Rebecca by Momoko in Episode 2, and now Candy by Tsuruno in Episode 4. They go on about how strong the witches in Kamihama are, but apart from the first episode, I’m not really feeling it with the last two fights. Yes, I get that the magical girls are also stronger because of Mitama’s adjusting, but even then the fights are just over way too quickly. It was like this with the Friendship Ending Staircase last week as well. While I could let it slide with these minor and unimportant witch battles, I hope this trend won’t keep extending to future battles with Rumours as well, since those are such a huge part of MagiReco and a new introduction to the PMMM world that non-players are meeting for the first time.

And this isn’t so much of a complaint as it is a personal preference thing, but I also miss seeing the characters enter the labyrinth layer by layer and really feeling the dangerous, foreboding atmosphere of doom before they finally encounter the witch. The battles so far have all just dumped the girls right into the centre of the labyrinth, with the witches appearing immediately. It does present a nice forceful and alarming feel--which is not necessarily bad, just different--but I do miss the haunting and mysterious atmosphere of the witch labyrinths before the witches themselves emerged.

But onto some positive aspects of the battle scene: I really like the way they presented Iroha. How she mindlessly just dashes forward to attack, almost like a desperate attempt to prove herself to Yachiyo. Obviously that doesn’t work, and the way she meekly asks to Connect but only to get instantly turned down... poor Iroha >_< And again, it was nice to see how they juxtaposed Tsuruno’s and Yachiyo’s responses to Iroha’s weakness: Yachiyo pushes her away and tells her to get back, while Tsuruno welcomes her attempts and brushes it off with a smile when it doesn’t go according to plan. (But last episode implied that Iroha was already adjusted? She can Connect now, so I’m guessing she did? Why is she still so much weaker, though? Is it just inexperience? I really wish they made these things much more explicitly clear...)

As for finally finding the Rumour, I’m really hoping that we’ll finally learn something about Yachiyo’s past next week! I liked how this episode told us more about Iroha’s lack of friends and her dependence on Ui to define her existence, so hopefully we’ll get something about Yachiyo soon, too. They already had some nice foreshadowing this week with some of the things that Tsuruno said and the way she acted around Yachiyo, so getting at least some answers in the next episode would be a nice follow-up. That and the obvious fact that I’m super excited to finally meet Mifuyu! Iroha’s Soul Gem is also darkening, so maybe we’ll even get to see our first animated Doppel next week!

But yeah. A much slower episode this week that, while not perfect, still had plenty of positive aspects! Tsuruno got an awesome introduction, which is basically the most important part of the episode, and they’ve done a nice job at paving the way for plenty of action and revelation in the next episode! (* >ω<)

#magia record #magireco #puella magi madoka magica #puella magi madoka magica side story #pmmm #fandom #mine #anime #review #magia record review #v watches magireco

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dylan-o-yumm · 6 years ago

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Any chance of a Leon angst where he accidentally calls out Ada’s name during sex with his s/o and so she leaves but he tries desperately to get her back??

This is a little different to what you asked, sorry about that. But this idea was brutally fun to write lol

His large hands grip my hips tightly, fingernails digging in and creating a pattern of little semi circles along my flesh. A thin layer of sweat covers both our naked bodies, the temperature in the room rising from our combined heat and huffs of rushed breathes. I sink down on his length, quickly rising my hips only to slam back down in a rushed attempt to reach my climax.

Leon's eyes are squeezed tightly shut, his lips parted ever so slightly as he chases his own release. His hips snap up, desperately trying to match my fast pace but instead meets me halfway, tearing a loud moan from my lips at the unexpected suddenness of his cock reaching deep within me. I throw my head back and curse at the ceiling as I quicken my pace even more, bouncing quickly but shortly, repeatedly hitting my sweet spot.

“Fuck! I'm so close…” I pant, my hands resting on Leon's naked, sweaty chest in an attempt to steady myself. He looks so sexy under me, blonde hair a mess from my hands having constantly ran through it and pulled at his locks, a look of pure bliss and pleasure covering his face. There's a faint red tint in his cheeks, either from the heat or because he's flustered, but either way he looks amazing in my eyes.

“Me too… ugh!” Leon grunts and groans, his hips stuttering being enough of a hint to his nearing orgasm. His eyes are still closed tightly, which I find a little odd. Usually he always looks at me with lust filled, hooded eyes while we're intimate. Maybe it just feels extra good tonight?

However, as he gets closer and closer to releasing, more moans slip past his lips and he sounds desperate. A smile works it's way on my face, loving seeing him so wreaked and practically twitching under me.

“God! Ada…” Leon whispered the name, like he caught himself just as he was saying it. His eyes suddenly snap open but he can't even bring himself to look at me, staring through me instead. My smile is suddenly replaced with a look of betrayal, fear and an overwhelming sense of sadness washes over me. My hips slow down slowly like I'm trying to process what just happened, before I grow completely still.

“A-Ada? Oh, my god…” Quickly pulling myself off of Leon and crawling away from him to sit as far away as I can on the edge of the bed. He doesn't even bother saying anything, seeming to know that there’s nothing to say that will fix his mistakes. The look on his face says it all, however. He stares up at the ceiling with a look of regret, his eyebrows slanting downward ever so slightly like he's realised the true weight of what he's done.

He doesn't move, staying in the position I left him in. The only time he moves is to bring his hands up to his hair and pull at his blonde strands, clearly angry with himself.

After about five minutes of complete silence, the both of us just thinking for a moment before I decide to make the first move. Taking the sheet off the end of the bed, I wrap it around my naked body before standing up and wandering around the room, picking up any of Leon's clothes that he threw aside after taking them off earlier. Once I'm sure I've got all of them, I throw them rather harshly onto his chest, not even startling him since he had propped himself up to watch me with sad eyes.

Stomping over the the bedroom door, I pull it wide open and stand beside it with a hint of a frown beginning to form on my face. “Get dressed and then get out.” I'm surprised at my own tone, not realising just how angry I truly was until I heard my voice.

Leon suddenly jumps up, quickly pulling on his pants in one swift movement before dashing over to me. He knows not to touch me, not right now, even though I can see his hands twitching, wanting to reach out and touch me. But he seems to know that placing a hand on me right now will only make thing worse.

“Y/n… I'm so sorry. I'll give you space and as much time as you need, just don't kick me out… not until we've dealt with this, at least” Leon begs, his eyes showing nothing but pain and hurt, which only makes me angrier because he's not aloud to be hurt, not after what he just did.

“Dealt with what? The fact that you were thinking about another woman while we were having sex?” I scoff, taking my hand off the door handle to cross my arms and scowl at him “And not just any other woman… Ada. The girl who you clearly love and I was just your second choice…” my words get softer the longer I talk, bowing my head in shame.

“Hey, don't do that. I love you and you know it” Leon's voice grows stern, his brow creasing as he frowns at my words. I can feel he wants to touch me even more now, but he keeps his distance, which I'm thankful for. Minutes ago he was the most amazing person in the world to me, now I can hardly look at him.

“You love me… just not the way you love Ada. Not the way I want to be loved.” I feel tears threatening to spill but I hold them back, feeling like I was just a toy for Leon to use since the girl he really wants is never there for him. “Just get out. I'm done talking.” I huff, sniffling softly to get rid of the lump forming in my throat.

“We can figure this out. We can still make us work” I've never heard Leon sound so desperate, it almost sends shivers down my spine. His eyes are pleading with me to let him stay, talk things out instead of pushing him away. However, the more I look at him, the more I want him gone.

“Even so… how am I able to sleep with you again without wondering weather or not you're thinking about someone else?” I shrug, trying to seem like I don't care anymore but the crack in my voice probably gives away just how torn up I feel. It's not like we could be together but never have have sex again. We'd only end up breaking up anyway.

“Leon. Leave… now” I grit my teeth, needing him to leave me alone so I can cry and scream without him hearing. He seems to understand, maybe seeing the tears forming in the corners of my eyes, but he nods silently, staring at me for a few more seconds before he slowly walks out the door with his head down.

I slam the door shut behind him and kick it in anger, turning around to lean back on the wall. I slide down until I'm sitting in a pool of silky sheets, my hands shaking as I bring them up to my face, beginning to let out loud sobs. My entire body shakes as I let myself fall apart, tears staining my cheeks and dripping onto the sheet still covering my body.

Leon hears my sobs, having not even walked away from the door. He leans against the door silently, listening to me while he also feels tears threatening to spill from his eyes. He's made a big mistake and he's going to have to do a lot of work to make up for it. Luckily he knows that, already planing to make it up to me for the rest of his life if he has to. Anything to have me back.

#leon headcannons #leon x reader #leon #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy #resident evil #resident evil imagine #resident evil damnation #resident evil ventetta #resident evil 6 leon #RE6 #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon scott kennedy imagine #leon s kennedy imagine #leon scott kennedy #leon scott

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youknowmymethods · 6 years ago

Text

Content Creator Interview #1

In the very first of a series of interviews with authors and artists in the Sherlolly and Sherlock fandoms @theemptyquarto chatted to @hobbitsdoitbetter about dark Anglo-Irish humour, how she got started in the fandom, cultural influences, and so much more.

I hope you all enjoy reading what they have to say as much as I did.

Hello Tumblr!

Back before Christmas 2018 I sat down (metaphorically, in a shared google doc) with the lovely Hobbitsdoitbetter. Hobbits has been working in fanfic at least since 2006, but came onto the BBC Sherlock scene in 2013, oddly enough (or maybe not that oddly, if you have read her sensitive and universally female-positive fic) getting her start as an Adlock writer. She switched over to Sherlolly with the brilliant, “Be Near Me When My Light Is Low,” a graceful and touching story dealing with domestic partner abuse.

After that she was off to the races. Since then, she’s written many of the most beloved stories in Sherlolly fandom, including: “The Boyfriend Experience,” which yours truly got to beta-read, set in an AU where Sherlock is a high class escort; “Little Goldfish,”a deeply sexy story dealing with the healthy (and unhealthy) use of BDSM in relationships; “The Rudest Man In London,” a rollicking Victorian AU adventure; and others too numerous to list here. Currently she’s publishing “Bliss,” another sweet Victorian AU in which Sherlock and Molly have to find their way to one another as partners in a marriage blanc, and a joint fic with Mizjoely called “The Poison in the Honey, the Sting in the Sweet,” featuring crimelord Sherlock, MI5 agent Molly, and an early-1980s setting.

Before I get into our chat, I’m going to post two reader questions submitted by OhAine pre-interview, since the actual discussion spins off both of them.

So with thanks to Aine:

(1) You write a very strong Molly, never more so than in “What the blackbird sang.” Can you tell us a little about the process of writing that story, and how difficult was it to walk the line between such a harrowing backstory and the love story you were developing?

It’s interesting to talk about “What The Blackbird Sang,” and the fic which preceded it, “Be Near Me When My Light Is Low.” It was the first Sherlolly piece I actually wrote, and I was still finding the characters’ voices. Getting John’s voice, in particular, proved a trial; it wasn’t until I wrote him telling someone off that I felt I had him. (I also wouldn’t make Mycroft so heartless if I wrote it today.) I was feeling my way through the Sherlockverse, and when I read the fic now, that’s really the only thing I can see, lol.

I was very aware of the morality of discussing something which affects people in real life, and of the ways in which some behaviors are presented to young women as welcome or romantic in popular culture when they’re actually creepy and controlling. Domestic violence is often presented in fanfic as an excuse for a character to be saved by another (male) character, or as an excuse for whump, angst or hurt/comfort, and I didn’t want to write anything like that. I wanted it to be realistic, and to be respectful of the experiences of people who have suffered from it. (I do know a couple of people who have survived DV, and I know their kids). I also wanted to show some of the things which younger readers should look out for as red flags, and give accurate information on what resources were available to them if they were in a situation which was dangerous. In short, I wanted the story to be useful as well as entertaining.

In order to do that, I looked a lot at real life cases of DV; almost everything which Molly’s ex does to her in the story is based on something from real life, including leaving the little bloody dolls on her doorstep. I also looked at the ways in which people with PTSD deal with panic attacks and flashbacks; I wanted to be honest and respectful, as I said, and I wanted to make sure that nothing I wrote glamourised or romanticized the abuse or the trauma. I suffer from anxiety and depression, and I know how difficult it can be to try and manage someone else’s reaction to your illness, as well as your own: that’s why I chose to give Sherlock prior experience with dealing with panic attacks. Writing the story itself wasn’t difficult; because I had given myself an obligation to be realistic, I had an in-built set of brakes. I couldn’t put in anything too fantastical, and that certainly helped. As for writing the romance, well... I think one of the things I like about Sherlock is that he’s not led around by his libido. I figured that if anyone would be willing to give Molly a chance to heal before things become physical, it would be him. I also felt that, given how bewildered he is by interpersonal relationships sometimes, he would be able to sympathize with someone who was also feeling emotionally vulnerable. And dealing with the physical abuse helped Sherlock grow up a bit, because he couldn’t just charge in on a white horse and then disappear off: if he wanted to help, he had to stick around and do some things which he felt uncomfortable with, like being emotionally open. It meant that he had a through-line in the story which wasn’t just about being strong or powerful. He had to change and grow, and I felt that was important. It also meant that he had something to do besides be in love with Molly, and I do think that helped keep the story from becoming too saccharine or concerned with romance.

(2) I often think when I’m reading your Victorian stories that there’s a very certain quality that Molly shares with Irish women, that there’s a quietness and dignity to her strength that I saw in women of my mother’s generation: rather than being given it, they took power where they could find it. How much of your characterisation of Molly has been influenced by the women in your own history?

It’s interesting that you mention the women of our mother’s generation as regards Victorian Molly, because I do think there’s an element, not so much of quietness (I come from a long, LOUD line of Northside Dublin matriarchs) but I do think there’s an element of, as you say, taking what power you can rather than waiting to be given it. (Because if you’re waiting to be given anything in life, you’ll be waiting a long time, and it can always be taken back). Maybe it’s the feminist in me; I am painfully aware that surviving as a woman in the past was not easy. It was a great deal more than pretty dresses and dashing men in carriages. Poverty had dire consequences, and you had to be tough if you were to survive, particularly when you had no legal rights. So I do think that I bring that attitude to writing about the past: I’m a bit cynical about it.

I also don’t like writing passive characters: one of the things I like about Molly is that while she may be quiet, or shy, or sweet, or clumsy, she isn’t passive. (I suspect that’s the influence of Lou Brealey on the way she’s written, but that’s just a personal opinion.) Molly does things, actively: she decides to help Sherlock, she orders him to say ILY first. She’s not waiting to be saved, or to be loved; she accepts life and gets on with it. She has a sort of sweet stoicity that I like. And again, that stoicity may relate back to the women of our mothers’ and grandmothers’ generations, and that get on with it mentality that they had.

And with these tantalizing tidbits, I sat down with hobbitsdoitbetter for our chat.

Quarto: Hi Hobbits! Thanks for joining me!

Hobbits: I am here whenever you’re ready!

Quarto: Awesome. So, let’s get started with a spinoff of one of the questions OhAine submitted and that you’ve already answered. You started writing Sherlolly with “Be Near Me When My Light Is Low,” which deals with domestic violence and in which the love story is really more of a side subject. Can you talk about how you got the inspiration for this fic? What in the show led you to create the material?

Hobbits: It’s an odd one, that, because I don’t really remember deciding to write it. I do remember reading a piece of fic online by a very young writer, who was still learning her craft. She was doing that thing we all do at the start, which is ramping every reaction up to 11! But because she was talking about Molly feeling unhappy with how Sherlock spoke to her, she didn’t seem to realize how it came across. It came across, I remember thinking, as if Sherlock were being verbally abusive. A lot of it was in the reactions written on Molly’s behalf; one person’s sarcastic banter is another’s hurtful barb, and there didn’t seem to be a recognition of the difference. I messaged her privately and asked her about it, and she didn’t seem to see the difference (again, starting out and making a common mistake we all make). But there was a lot of stuff about Molly putting up with shite from Sherlock that I just didn’t see her putting up with, and which seemed to me to be quite… Let’s say unhelpful.

Quarto: I think it can be difficult to balance that sort of stuff in fic, particularly when you’re writing for a show like “Sherlock” where the wit is so pointed and exaggerated for dramatic effect. In the context of the show it’s funny but then when we try to capture it in fic it comes off like it would IRL, as “Wow, these people are massive assholes.”

Hobbits: Well, some of that is, I think, cultural differences. British and Irish people will say stuff to one another messing that the rest of the world is horrified by. We have a dark sense of humor as a matter of course. BUT the big thing is how the person you say it to reacts; Mycroft and Sherlock don’t get upset at how they speak to one another and they can be sarcastic little bitches. But if, for example, you say something to someone (as Sherlock does to Molly in the SIB Christmas scene) which hurts them, the appropriate response is to apologize and not do it again. I think that’s why we stick with Sherlock through so much, because you can tell that he just blurts stuff out, or gets so wound up in his own cleverness that he doesn’t stop to think about how it sounds. But if you’re portraying someone as upset, and that that’s a normal or desirable reaction to a character because they’re Just That Awesome, then I look at it a bit askance. In fairness to that writer from long ago, I don’t think it had occurred to her how it sounded; that’s something that comes later in writing, I think, when you no longer have the massive panic attack that is trying to finish something and put it out there, which is the first, scariest and bravest step.

Quarto: I’ll want to get back to the experience of authorship in a minute but before I do I’d like to talk a little bit about culture and how its influenced you as a writer, which also ties in with one of the reader-submitted questions. I wish I still had that email chain we did when you were writing “The Boyfriend Experience” but in one exchange we had that I recall, you disagreed with me (an American) that the story was dark. And you attributed your perception of it as not dark to your Irishness. And I kinda… have to stand by my original opinion of your writing, which is that you definitely operate a bit more on the grim end of the spectrum (with obvious exceptions). Do you think that your heritage and your culture are really determining or influencing the things you choose to write?

Hobbits: I remember that! I was terribly worried I had offended you :-( But I do think that the cultural assumptions that come from being working class and Irish determine your world-view, and what you think of as dark. (Infamously, Irish writers and playwrights are always writing dark plays and I have spent the last ten years working in a theatre, lol). But also, the reason I didn’t feel “The Boyfriend Experience,” was dark was because I didn’t necessarily feel prostitution or working through trauma were dark, they’re just facts of life. I do have stories I feel are dark, because they’re about hopelessness: Be Near Me… is one, as is Little Goldfish. I would say they’re dark because they take place primarily in very dark places where there’s no light coming in. Molly is being abused, Sherlock can’t move past his own hang ups and traumas. Those seem to me to be dark. But other things, where there’s a bad experience but people are managing to survive, or thrive, those I always find really life affirming. The other thing is that, as someone who deals with depression and anxiety, putting a label on something as dark has always seemed to me a way of making it seem more frightening and debilitating. But if you write about bad stuff that happens, but people survive it then I find that much more life affirming, particularly if you, The Reader, are dealing with some of those things yourself. It’s my way of saying, hey, this doesn’t define you. You aren’t helpless, you can get through this. Not “you must, because if you don’t then you’re weak,” but more, “even if you don’t entirely beat this, there are things you can do. You are more than a label.” Sorry, I’m not sure if I’m getting my meaning across there :-(

Quarto: Nah, you’re doing fine:) And at the point I made the original comment I don’t believe I knew how you were going to end the story… which you did with “recovery,” basically, rendering what comes before it a necessary process rather than “Oh fuck that’s a downer.” When you’ve tried to write horror, though, I will say that you do very well with it, possibly because of that attitude. The “Eurus thing” ficlet you wrote in “Bumping Back” is one of the creepiest short pieces I can recall reading in this or any fandom, and the bleakness of it is definitely part of that.

Hobbits: Well, one of the things about writing horror is it’s the only genre I give myself permission in to go to town with the darkness, lol. Every other genre, I always try to have some light at the end, but with horror it’s like, nah, bring it on. I also love writing horror to do with children, because it’s immediately making the adults uncomfortable- Nobody wants to imagine a child in that position. And of course the scariest things for most of us have roots in childhood; Pan’s Labyrinth scared the Bejayzus out of me, Crimson Peak not so much. And it’s because the things which imprint on us in childhood carry that same massive emotional weight throughout our lives. So if you tap into that with a reader, you tap into the child that reader was, not the fully grown up and confident person they’ve become. You can really up the ante emotionally in that way. I’m glad you liked the Eurus Thing btw, though my favorite of that series is probably The Other Tenant, just because I loved the idea of Mrs. Hudson having her own life which is every bit as interesting as her boys’. That’s how I like writing side characters, and I learned that in the XMen fandom: write everyone as if they have something just as interesting going on just off camera/page… Mwah ha ha!

Quarto: It’s a crime that there’s not WAY more Huddersfic. She’s had a fascinating life and there’s almost infinite room to give her adventures. Can we talk about how your life in the theater influences your writing a bit? You work as far as I can tell exclusively in the present tense… is that a reason why?

Hobbits: Mmm, that never occurred to me, but you may be right :-) I suppose I got used to writing in the present tense when I first started writing fanfic, because my earlier attempts at writing stories or novels (I emphasize attempts) were all in the past tense, so when I started in fanfic I wanted to experiment, and that was one of the experiments that worked for me. I loved how immediate it made everything. It’s funny, now, twelve years later, that I write so much more fanfic than I do regular prose (I mainly write plays now). I mean, I started in fanfic as a way to experiment with voice, since I had trouble with it when I was younger. I had a tendency, even then, to just write dialogue and nothing else, so I started writing characters I knew well, but who weren’t like the talkative characters I created. That’s one of the reasons I loved writing Logan in X-Men, for example: He’s so bloody gruff and uncommunicative. And then what started as a writing experiment became not only a place to learn my trade, but also a place to experiment with form, to make friends, and to write the sort of things I wanted to write without having to please anyone except myself. It was incredibly liberating, and really important in helping me find my voice and my confidence. I can genuinely say that I wouldn’t have had the confidence to have written my plays, or put them on, without the support of the fanfic community.

Quarto: You do have a very distinctive authorial voice. As someone who has been mistaken for MizJoely, Gettingovergreta, and Sunken_Standard on multiple occasions, I am slightly envious of this. Do you have any authors, fan or professional, who you think have influenced your style?

Hobbits: Well, in terms of style I can definitely cite Miabicicletta and OhAine as influences, in terms of the way they write and the subject matter they choose. Out here in meatspace, I love writers like Jim Butcher, Ben Aaronovitch and Leigh Bardugo, because they’re experimenting with genre and making it their own. I also love playwrights like Marina Carr and Mark O’Rowe, who again have that authorial voice down pat. As soon as you hear a speech by Marina Carr, you know it’s her. Same with Mark O’Rowe, a man whom even I think writes some dark stuff.

Quarto: I’m not familiar with him, but I’ll check him out. And now that you say it, the gritty modern-day fairytale vibe of the Dresden Files does definitely have some hobbitsy nature to it:)

Hobbits: God bless Harry Dresden, saving the world one random act of destruction at a time!

Quarto: Let’s talk shipping a bit. You started off with Adlock, and one of the things that I have liked about your fic is that you have preserved the importance of that relationship to Sherlock even though you’re obviously writing Sherlolly. What made you switch? And when did you start?

Hobbits: Well, I was asked to write an Adlock fic, which is how I got into the fandom. I had just finished a Darcy/Steve Rogers fic which was about them experimenting with D/s and Wicked Wanton got in touch with me on ff.net and asked me to write about Sherlock and Irene’s first time, specifically because I had written domme!Darcy. Once I wrote that, I started reading stuff around Sherlock and basically stumbled across Sherlolly, which I then fell in love with as a ship. I also felt that Irene, as much as I loved her, wasn’t the sort of person who would have a traditional HEA with Sherlock; my feeling about them was that they would kill one another, long term. Irene is nobody’s love interest, and I couldn’t really make stories which featured her in such a role fly with me. She seemed far too big a character to fulfill a role like that. Whereas with Molly she could have that sort of relationship with him, and not feel constricted. It wouldn’t be out of character for her, which I felt it would be for Irene. But I like Irene as a character, and for that reason I like having her in stories, and I treat her and SHerlock’s past together with respect. It’s entirely possible to love someone and know you can’t live with them. It doesn’t mean Sherlock loves Molly any less, or that he’s settling, they’re just a better match.

Quarto: Sort of going along with what you were saying earlier about wanting to fill in the stories of the supporting players more than the principals?

Hobbits: Yeah. I also found Molly more relatable in some ways, because she is the girl next door in a way that Irene isn’t. Molly is extraordinary, and a very specific type of female character who tends to get piled on by certain elements of fandom, so I like writing her. It’s partly wanting to give the side players more space and partly the fact that I loves me an underdog. And the reaction to her character was also soooo tied in with some of the issues fandom has had with misogyny (in the same vein that people reacted to Mary) that I wanted to write something which was pro-woman and pro-ordinary woman. We treat female characters as if we need an excuse to pay attention to them: either they’re naked or suffering or sexy. If they’re not fitting into any of those very specific niches then they get treated like they don’t deserve our attention or respect.

Quarto: It can indeed be difficult to relate to Irene “Stupidly beautiful, ten steps ahead of everybody, wearing $10,000 outfits” Adler sometimes. So let’s talk about your Molly a bit… you relate to her being the most “ordinary” woman in the show. Martin Freeman talked about how John is the “ordinary” man, but is in fact quite accomplished and has had a very interesting and adventurous life. Do you think something similar applies to Molly?

Hobbits: Yeah, absolutely. I think that when we talk about “ordinary characters,” in the Sherlock universe, it can be helpful to think about them, not in terms of who they are but what they want. John, Molly and Greg are all normal people who are very good at their jobs/have an amazing skill set, but they want relatively normal things. Happy home lives, a comfortable living. Their version of happiness would look a lot like us viewers’ version. Whereas Sherlock, Mycroft, Mary (to a certain extent), Eurus and Irene all want extraordinary things, as well as being extraordinary themselves. Sherlock wants to be able to tell the truth of someone just by looking at them; Mycroft and Eurus both want to be able to fit this massive, messy world into a box of order which they can understand. Irene wants to see just how far she can push everything, (something she has in common with Sherlock). John, Molly and Greg are ok with having lives more like us other poor schlubs, so long as they’re happy. (Of course, there’s a whole can of worms to be gone through whether John actually wants that, or thinks he wants that and deep down doesn’t). But I do think Greg and Molly are certainly happy to be Extraordinary Ambitions Adjacent, rather than having those ambitions themselves. They’re not quite so… grandiose, lol.

Quarto: I can’t believe I’m actually going to type these words, but… I’d argue that Molly is a John mirror (ughhh, m-theory) in some regards. Because Molly had the opportunity for “normal happiness” with Poor Tom Who Did His Best, and for somewhat ambiguous reasons ended it. Much like John thought he wanted a normal domestic life and accidentally married a superagent?

Hobbits: I so sometimes hate how much of what should be straight-forward fandom theory has been co-opted. I don’t know if I see her as a mirror for John, because I think if anything she’s a mirror for Sherlock. She’s who Sherlock might have become, had be had a different, more normal set of circumstances. (IE not being the sibling of The British Government and The Greatest Criminal MInd of The Millennium.) Whereas for John, I do think he doesn’t realize that he’s a weirdo like the Holmeses, until it’s staring him in the face. Molly isn’t an image of who he is, so much as who he thought he was, and in that way so are Greg and Stamford. A true mirror might be Sherlock himself, in his addicted-to-danger guise. Hmm, not sure that makes sense… :-/

Quarto: No, it makes sense, but it’s not a point of view I’ve seen many people espousing, even in Sherlolly fandom. When you’re writing them do you use the idea that Sherlock and Molly are recognizing some sort of internal similarity to themselves as part of their attraction/interest in one another?

Hobbits: I do think there’s an element of that, because a lot of what I write has Sherlock being a bit bewildered by emotion, particularly things like tenderness or attraction. Like, the purpose of the whole in-show thing with Irene was that The Woman was dangerous and not to be trusted, which is the message that Mycroft has always seemed to give Sherlock about feelings. So for me Molly represents for him a gradual realisation that feelings aren’t always big and terrifying; they can be sweet, and welcome, and kind, and they can add to your life. They can be safe. The concept of safety gets a bum rap in modern culture, but I think it’s a fundamental part of loving someone, and being able to be with them. Sure, it’s exciting to wonder whether your partner is going to put a knife in your back, but it’s a lot more pleasant (not to mention workable) to be with someone you trust.

Quarto: Mind if I ask a follow-on question about some of your sexy writing?

Hobbits: Sure, shoot :-)

Quarto: You’ve written several BDSM-themed fics with this pairing, I think exclusively with domme!Molly… does that go along with your ideas of “safety” as a critical component to their relationship?

Hobbits: Yes, in so far as I don’t think BDSM is necessary to feel safe in a relationship, but I do think that the attraction of BDSM in relationships can be that it’s rooted in safety. The submissive gives their control to the dominant, and trusts that the dominant will not take advantage, and will give them pleasure. (One of the reasons I ship Sherlolly more than Adlock is that I don’t think Irene could be trusted, at this point in her life, to do this for Sherlock). If you take that as a given, then the BDSM relationship is very up-front in its terms, and there’s very little grey area. You don’t have to interpret, you’ve already discussed what’s wanted, and where the lines are. There is also a procedure to follow if you need to pull back or change tack. I do think that all couples have elements of submission and dominance (or maybe trust and hand-over is a better way to phrase it), it’s just that D/s couples are more forthright about it. And as someone who sometimes has trouble reading social cues, both I (and, in my writing, Sherlock) appreciate the lack of ambiguity.

Quarto: You know you bring up a very interesting point and one that I never really thought of. Your Sherlock, consistently, needs to have trust and safety in his relationship with Molly. BDSM-fics or otherwise. And you wrote a lot of them before we knew that he was recovering from such horrific trauma that he suppressed and rewrote the memories of huge segments of his childhood. What did you see in the character that made you almost prescient about that?

Hobbits: Hmm… I think it’s because he was, from the beginning, presented to us as someone who was running from something. When you’re ok with where your thoughts are at, you don’t crave distraction in the way Sherlock does. He also didn’t seem to be able to handle his feelings, and that seemed to be tied into the way Mycroft had raised him to think of them: When there isn’t anything dark in the background of a character’s story, they learn to handle their emotions like a normal person, which neither Sherlock nor Mycroft had. It became even more pronounced when we met their lovely, slightly batty but seemingly emotionally healthy parents.

To be honest though, even if Sherlock hadn’t had the experiences we found out about in S4, I would have thought that the way he’d been raised had traumatized him a bit. Like, Mycroft probably thought he was doing a good thing, but telling a child that their emotions- which they cannot be without, and which act as an early-warning system for abuse and trouble- are not to be trusted is going to mess a kid up. And then there was all that stuff about “do not forget me…” in TAB, and that constant visual about Sherlock being submerged in water… The visuals of the show seemed to be hinting at something even before they came out with it. I am pleased that I called Eurus’ gender before S4, but that’s about the only thing I thought was just me being clever. The rest seemed common sense- If you’ve spent any time around traumatized people, which I have.

Quarto: You mentioned in your response to the reader questions that you now wouldn’t write Mycroft as being as heartless as you did in, “What The Blackbird Sang.” Is that just your perception changing or the addition of new material about him to the canon? Because that is the opposite of how I’ve felt about him:)

Hobbits: Partly, it’s because I think Mycroft has changed a bit from how we see him in S1, so that by S4 he’s more of a tragic figure. He’s that bloke who thought he was so much cleverer than everyone else, and then you realize that it’s just a cover because he has been asked to deal with things he has no idea how to deal with. And his sticking with keeping Eurus on Sherrinford, and not telling his parents, shows that. (In my HC, Rudy was her initial jailor, since Mycroft couldn’t have been old enough to make it happen). Mycroft reacted like a little kid who has done something wrong: hide it, contain it, don’t tell anyone about it. Make sure, as far as possible, that Eurus is ok, but that’s all. He puts all this pressure on himself, because he doesn’t know what else to do. One of the things which I loved about TFP is when Mummy tells Sherlock, “everyone knows you’re the sensible one!” Because yes, Mycroft is the elder and seems so much more put together, but in that family Sherlock is actually the emotionally healthy one. He’s grown and learned over the years, which Mycroft hasn’t. And that’s a real shame, because it damages Mycroft, and Eurus, and his parents.

(At this point in the interview Quarto ran a word count, realized this was getting lengthy, and decided to do some more rapid-fire Q&A.)

Quarto: So where do you see your future fics going, at two years into the long (and possibly unending) hiatus? Any things you’re wanting to write that we haven’t seen yet?

Hobbits: Well, I suppose I’ll stop writing when I stop having ideas for fics. I mean, that’s the thing about fandom, it’s a self-replenishing medium, so even if a new piece of canon doesn’t inspire you, a new fic or piece of fan art might. I do have a couple of pieces I wish I had gone back to (The Copperbeech Identity, Red Door Black and No Capes! Are the ones which spring immediately to mind.) Obviously, I want to finish Bliss and The Sting in The Honey… And I do have an idea for a Sherlolly AU which is set in a theatre during the production of a new show. (Seriously, you wouldn’t believe some of the things I’ve seen in the last week before curtain-up, lol). At some point I’ll get to it, hopefully. For the time being though, I’m happy where I am. The only way I’d move on or step away is if I find something which grabs my attention more, and at the moment that’s not happening. So I am here for the time being, and I’m hoping that, even if I stop posting fic or fan art (something I’m dipping my toe into) then I will still be able to keep in touch with all the friends I’ve made in the fandom.

Quarto: I’d love it if you finished “Red Door Black.” I reread that one while prepping for this and had forgotten how much I loved it. And I’m here for your theater AU. Any fics you wish you’d written differently, or things you’d change?

Hobbits: I would have written Mycroft differently in Be Near Me… as I said. I might have written some of Rudest Man... differently, because I felt it ended up being very finicky as a plot. I had so many balls in the air, I’m not entirely sure I kept them all in motion in the best way. But that’s what happens when you give yourself 4 main pairings, two villains and permission to bring in any universe elements you want, including Torchwood and Tarzan, lol. Also, Sally and Henry Knight’s day will come, I tell you!

Quarto: Lol, I’d forgotten the little Lord Greystoke cameo in that one. What’s the best thing you’ve written?

Hobbits: Ah jaysus, you can’t ask an author that! I have some stories which I love, but which haven’t gotten much attention: Sense and Sensitivity, for example, in which Eurus runs away with the Guardians of the Galaxy, for example. Occasionally I just write weird stuff which makes me laugh. I think And A Garden… and What the Blackbird Sang are probably the two best structured stories. There’s nothing superfluous in them, nobody is out of character. I love the emotion of The Coffin-Maker’s Lullaby, because it was kind of like my thank you to the show; I had assumed that after S4 there was no chance it was coming back, at all, EVER, so that was my goodbye in a way. (Although, of course, then the fandom just kept going, and we found out there might be more, eventually. So it ended up being less a swan-song and more a high five)

Quarto: The original version of that question, FWIW, was “what’s the worst thing you’ve written” but I’m being positive today:) Any tips for fic writers just in general, or for people writing Sherlolly, or Molly specifically?

Hobbits: I have to admit, if I think something is bad then I’ll pull it. So anything I have up, I feel fairly happy with, even if I can see little niggling things I might change, not be happy with.

I think in writing, the thing I always say is do the first draft. Do the first draft and be happy that it’s shite, that’s the first draft’s job. You only get better if you write that first draft, and then improve on it. You only learn if you do that, and it’s trial and error. There’s a Miles Davis quote I love: “It sure does take a long time to sound like yourself.” And it’s true, it does. So give yourself the time. Don’t be worried about not sounding like anyone else: you only have to sound like you. If you’re writing in fandom, don’t stay in a fandom which is nasty to you or negative; you want to be in a place which is supportive. The Clois, Rogan and Sherlolly fandoms were all supportive and kind to me, and I couldn’t have developed as I have without them. I also couldn’t have continued to write the fic I write, which is feminine-positive, in a nasty or anti-feminist place. My one rule for my fic is that one of the female characters, somewhere, must be either getting what she wants, or on the way to getting it. That should absolutely be a thing in writing, and never be embarrassed or sorry about wanting that.

As for Molly, I think the writers have done an amazing job with her over the last few years. She went from being a walk over to an interesting, multi-faceted character in her own right. And she did it without having to become something she’s not: Molly will never be a Strong Female Character, and thank god for that! She’s more human and more interesting than that tag would ever make her.

Quarto: Words of wisdom. Hobbits, thank you for talking with me today!

Hobbits: It was my pleasure. If you need anything else, just let me know… And merry Christmas from Dublin :-)

So much thanks to Quarto and Hobbits for giving their time and energy to this project.

Next week:

Our next interview, featuring @lilsherlockian1975 and @mrsmcrieff, will be posted on Friday 22 February.

#content creator interviews #theemptyquarto #hobbitsdoitbetter #sherlolly #sherlock #TW: mentions of domestic violence

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goldenscript · 8 years ago

Text

wips tag.

i was tagged by @workofteaguk and @wonhopes to share my works in progress, since it’s really no surprise that i have ten million wips but enjoy these ones i’ve been working on so far i thought i’d share with everyone else what i have cooking up so far! also, thank you guys for tagging me (”: <333

title: i hate you, (but of course) i love you pairing: jeon jungkook | reader genre: exes au, fluff, humor, a dash of angst status: currently standing at 4.3k, probably about 80% done. i have two more section to write with lots more bickering between the two. (((: preview: —

“—What the fuck?” he says, finally getting a proper look at the silver on both of their wrists. His head still pounds at the sudden thought, but he suddenly recalls the pair of handcuffs that Jin was swinging around last night. They weren’t anything special, but the older man was flaunting them around with his own brand of drunken smugness. It was a rare first to see his older friend with a such a bold pair of items but an even rarer to see him so piss-drunk. How did he—

“Shut the fuck up,” he hears Y/N grumble. Without another second, you begin to turn away from him before the yank at both of their wrists stops further movement. “Ow! What the—”

“Take my wrist apart, why dontcha,” he grumbles back, attempting to yank you back to your back position. “I’d appreciate keeping it, thank you very much.”

He barely blinks his eye by the time you shoot right up in the bed, clutching your head as you turn to him in disbelief. “What the fuck?! Jeon, what did you do?”

“Me?!” he says, wincing at his own volume. “I’m innocent, I just woke up handcuffed to Chewbacca. Thanks for asking.”

“Chewbacca… this brat,” you scoff, giving his arm a shove while clutching the top of your head with the other.

“I didn’t do this,” he answers your unsaid question, feeling his heart pound. Like old times, only frustration seemed to come with you. “Maybe one of the guys did it or somethin’.”

“Fuck, I’m never drinking at the same party as you again,” you groan, shooting him another look before your head slammed back onto his pillow. “And I’m definitely going to kill Jin for bringing these stupid things, too.”

Then, it hit him and his own groaning and head-slamming ensued—god, why the fuck did he agree to a drinking competition with you?

(more wips under the cut~)

title: chatroom confessions pairing: jeon jungkook | reader genre: childhood rivals au, fluff, some angst status: at about 4.1k, only 20% done. i have the outline finished, i just need to go on with the act of writing this thing. preview: —

The next time you log on, he’s on.

It’s not even the same time as before.Your clock reads 8:03 PM right now.

But there it is, the little green symbol besides his username. The sight is foreboding, practically beckoning you to click the user and say something, anything.

You find some bravery in tapping on the icon, your fingers already tapping away—

[8:06 PM] peachy-keen: I don’t know or care if this is Jungkook or not but come clean already

Unfortunately, you can’t even find the rest of your courage to press send. You want to say something at the least. But what?

Do I say? ‘Hey, Y/N here. Remember me from 6th grade? Yeah, you totally crushed my little grade school heart.’ Or ‘Hey, is this Jungkook or was this one of Lisa’s friends fucking with me?’ Or-

You don’t even have a moment to finish your thought when a ding! emits from your laptop’s speakers.

[8:07 PM] blue_seagull: long time, no see

You blink, letting out a shaky breath before typing up an immediate response. Here goes nothing.

[8:07 PM] peachy-keen: uh, yeah

[8:08 PM] blue_seagull: Still don’t think it’s me?

[8:08 PM] peachy-keen: No

[8:09 PM] blue_seagull: How can I prove it?

[8:09 PM] peachy-keen: I’d have to see your face.

[8:10 PM] blue_seagull: [photo.jpg sent]

The photo looks relatively like the Jungkook you remember from the vaguest parts of your mind. As begrudging as you are to admit to the fact, he’s actually quite handsome. His mop of dark hair sitting atop his forehead is no longer the same bowl cut like seven years ago. His features have definitely filled out too. Even his smile has become even nicer than you remember. And it isn’t completely foreign anyway.

You’ve seen a photo or two from mutual friends’ Instagram photos, but you’re still not completely sold in this case. In this day and age, this could be that same person catfishing as Jungkook. You’re about to type something along those lines in your response, but you erase it and laugh after reading his next message.

[8:11 PM] blue_seagull: I’m gonna take a guess and say you think the picture is a catfish

[8:11 PM] peachy-keen: duh.

[8:11 PM] blue_seagull: okay, skype me then

[8:12 PM] blue_seagull: guk_0901

Perhaps it’s dangerous to do something like this. Skyping some complete stranger and all. But then again, it was dangerous to chat with a complete stranger too. It isn’t like there’s much to lose at this point. You heave out a sigh, shrugging your shoulders and mutter something along the lines of “Fuck it” before you give him your response.

[8:15 PM] peachy-keen: Sure, whatever.

Once you’re logged into your Skype account, you type in the username that “Jungkook” has provided you. The icon is a different photo than the one he sent you, but it’s still the same boy. Just that observation alone makes you realize just how nervous you are. Of course, this is expected. You’re actually not sure what’s going to come from this call. You don’t even know if you’ll actually be seeing Jungkook or someone else from your old elementary school.

A part of you prays it’s him, but another part doesn’t just for the sake of your own feelings. Way too many things happened back then.

At least I’ll be able to get some answers out of it… right?

You press the call icon, watching as the rings come to a halt after the first two chimes and Jeon Jungkook appears on the screen of your laptop.

Again, he’s the first one to speak. This time an almost all-knowing smile curves on his smiles as he says, “Believe me yet?”

You’re actually left a little baffled at this moment. Your lips parting slightly to say words, your mind’s racing a million miles per hour, before you say something, “Um… yeah…” You pause for a moment, calming yourself as you suddenly recollect the intent of why you logged on in the first place, “You have some explaining to do.”

He lets out a soft chuckle, his features softening as he nods, “I figured.”

title: where the lines overlap. pairing: jeon jungkook | reader, park jimin | reader genre: band au + romance, angst status: standing at 2.1k, 2% done. LOL. it’s a series i have in the works, so bear with me. i’m trying to get it done right. preview: —

a year and a half ago.

You wanted to get far, far away from everything so you ran.

At that point, you were sure you had run off a good five blocks from the cursed music building, allowing your lungs to collapse and expand in random intervals. It felt like everything had collapsed around you, and perhaps it did in many respects. What the fuck could you do? Go with it? Let yourself shed the weights of your own band mates after all the blood, sweat, and tears you all spent trying to get to where you were?

That thought alone had you shaking your head, running a shaky palm through your locks as you searched for solace somewhere. It had to be there right? Or did it even exist there at all?

You couldn’t even fathom where you were because this was nowhere close to the five blocks you spent sightseeing with everyone else. You didn’t see the other music buildings or the small corner convenience stores that proved their worth during strenuous practices leaving you and the others drained—was it that hard to be perfect, after all?

Bang’s face flashed across your mind, his disappointment at the lack of practice earlier that day. There’s a deep set frown etched into his weathered skin, eyes narrowed as Yoongi tried to reason your way through the mess and how it became slits when you dared defending your mint-haired companion. The older man grunted, “Fix this; whatever the hell it is. Just fix it.” So, you ran after another screaming match with Jungkook.

You just ran the moment you could because what else could you do?

Bang was mad, Jungkook was mad, Taehyung was confused, and Yoongi was watching it unfold like a spectator, and you? You were confused, scared, and you needed air.

Fuck—, you wheezed, plopping down by the end of the path. At this point, you didn’t even care for the dirt that stained your jeans or the funny looks you received from passersby. You didn’t really care for anything right then. You just wanted your heart to stop trying to escape your chest.

You felt your phone vibrate against your leg, but you didn’t even bother looking at it. Instead you tried to familiarize yourself with the view before you. There was a cluster of vendors offering goods, all sorts of kebabs, milk teas, and even sweet creams; all of them without a care in the world. You saw an arcade filling up with children shrieking for money and for a turn on the machines. Behind you, there was a food shop, wafting the distilled air with fresh soup and customers filling the air with chatter and inquiries. It was all busy, all moving forward, and there you were, suspended in time like a ghostly spectator because like many times before you were just a nameless face.

The sky was a bright blue hue, cerulean really, with wisps of clouds peeking between passing intervals as they seemed to move while everyone else remained still down below. You could feel the sun beat against your slick skin, clinging to you like a second layer as you found your erratic heart calming down.

What you see before you was normalcy, tranquility. Things you wish you had again.

You rose from your spot, giving the scene a final once over before you willed your legs to move up the incline toward the cliff that hung over the rest of the city. There was something therapeutic in all of this though you hardly believed you deserved any relief knowing the things you knew. By the time you felt yourself stop and rest against the burning metal beneath your elbows, you were still thinking.

Dammit. Closing your eyes, you tried to will the pressing thoughts away. I should tell him shouldn’t I?

But if you did, you’d risk more than just the sake of your relationship. You’d risk his dream. The only dream that Jungkook has ever had, and you’d be the one to rip it away from him. You hoped he’d find his own aspirations… out of everyone, you didn’t think you could do that. You pushed him to do this after all.

You said aloud, hearing the hoarse edges, “Fuck—”

You swore you heard something off to your right but when you braved a look around you, it was just an unwelcome sight of visitors beneath the safety of a gazebo. It was just a family, celebrating amongst themselves. They thankfully paid you no attention, opting for the fascinations of their own food and devices than some random girl trying to figure out what her next move was.

I could just lea—

You heard your phone ring this time, vibrating against your back pocket and interrupting the daring thought—whether you actually appreciated it or feared it was still beyond you. Rather than thinking further, you decided to pull out the plastic device, hoping to God it wasn’t Jungkook.

It wasn’t, so you slid your fingertip across the screen to answer.

You released out a deep breath, “Yoongi—”

“—Lemme guess you ran off to clear your thoughts?” He wouldn’t sound worried to anyone, straight tone and all, but you heard the edge in his voice.

“I did.”

“He’s worried, y’know,” It made the reality of the situation wash over you, taking its hold on you as you tried to wrestle with the next set of words waiting to part your lips—

“I’m going to leave the city.”

“Y/N,” There was a deeper edge to his voice, a warning laced between the syllables of your own name, “where are you?”

“Enjoying the view.”

title: beneath the surface pairing: kim taehyung | reader genre: ??? status: outline is 75% done and i have barely less than 1k written so that’s maybe 1.5% done. preview: —

With the door shut tight behind you, you’re given a choice between two options: stay awake and talk about the kiss or pretend to sleep and deal with it tomorrow. Because out of all people, you know that Kim Taehyung would breach the topic no matter what as it was in his very nature go for what was uncomfortable even if he had a hard time doing this himself; and, as much as you’d like to do this, to debunk whatever happened in that split second where all you could taste was the cherry Coke on his lips, you can’t bring yourself to do it. Especially not when your mind is whirling about in discordant thoughts all seemingly screaming for more when you should be doing no such thing.

It happened. It was just the heat of the moment. You turn on your side and lean your head onto your arm. Now stop thinking about it.

But it’s like your brain wants to taunt you with a reminder of what just passed: all that plays is the close proximity of Taehyung’s visage a hair’s breadth from yours, his deep, chocolate brown eyes soft from the reminiscing over a distant past that the two of you once shared together, back when times were simpler—at least as simple as college could get—when all you two ever worried about was midterms and final examinations and the Final Reckoning enacted by your parents at the end of each school year, while the scent of mint and sugar fanned across your features. Just sitting beside him, knees brushing against one another and feeling the heat radiating from his lean body, you felt your heart thundering and your mind swimming with two simple words: Kiss him. Then you did and he did too. And it’s all that remains burned into your mind, because holy fuck we kissed.

You find yourself recalling the day when you doodled the simple cloud to him, embellishing it with his username in hopes that it would give him strength to follow his dreams like you were following yours, and you see the way he lit up and pulled you in tight. The thick scent of eucalyptus shrouded you, and yet you enjoyed every moment of it, allowing it all to put you at ease despite the fire burning in your own heart. It’s the same feeling now, burning even brighter and hotter, because under these pretenses, you actually have no fucking clue what overcame you or him to do it. All you know is you felt something with the brunet, perhaps nostalgia or connection in ways that seemed to date back to high school all tightening around your own better judgement.

It’s wrong. I shouldn’t—

Hearing a knock at the door, your heart damn near jumps out of your chest but tension soon expels from your body. All you do is stay in place as the doorknob jiggles and footsteps make its way behind you.

“Y/N?” Taehyung whispers, leaning over the bed frame. When you don’t reply and all he can see are your shut eyes, he lets out a deep sigh. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow then.”

The certainty that he would leave the room is soon dispelled the moment you hear him shuffle onto your side of the bed albeit the arrival comes after a few moments—you’re almost certain he stopped by your desk—when he grabs onto the edge of your comforter and pulls it over your legs and onto your torso. He’s careful not to touch any parts, his warm touch only grazing your shoulders as he covers you. All the while, he’s humming a song—one you’re unfamiliar with—that soothes your mind.

“Good night, Y/N… sweet dreams.”

As he turns off the lights and shuts the door behind him, you feel yourself basking in the scent of eucalyptus and drifting to sleep with a smile curved on your lips, Good night Tae… sweet dreams.

i tag: @sugaspen @jamlessness @jungnoir (idc if other ppl tagged u, i’ma still tag u) @taechubs

{ of course, you don’t have to do this!! but if you do (this goes out to anyone reading this far), feel free to tag me!!! }

#emsupdates #bts scenarios #bts au #jungkook scenarios #jimin scenarios #taehyung scenarios #i know there's a lot of bts maknae line stuff but idk i've been inspired!!

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