#if i had a time machine I'd tell myself 'don't let others tell you you can only like relatable characters'
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Me ten years ago, trying desperately to rationalise my love for villains: no, you don't understand [Insert Villain Character] is actually deeply misunderstood, and also they have such a sad past and anyway the other characters aren't that much better, it's just that the narrative itself is against [Villain]!
Me now: anyway, yes [Insert Villain Character] is evil, and they're being very hot about it. Still belongs in the trash, though. Hold up, not the trashcan they're liable to set it on fire, put them with the hazardous materials instead.
#brought to you by me trying and failing to sleep and cringing about my 18 yo self#i was 18 a lil baby still very naive to my own Favourite Character Type#if i had a time machine I'd tell myself 'don't let others tell you you can only like relatable characters'#so if you like villains they MUST somehow be justifiable#to this today i say: no i just think they're neat when theyre being feral and unhinged asshole#quizz: is this about Sephiroth? Handsome Jack? Gortash? Xue Yang? Loki? Raz'Al Ghul?#the answer is yes#tbf some of the arguments aren't wrong depending on the fandom#but I still find it much less interesting than unapologectic villains#and most of those arguments give me hives now xD
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If Humans tolerate a greater amount of ambiguity than other Sapients, their risk tolerance is off the charts. Even a baseline human's risk tolerance would make any non-deathworlder sapient excrete themselves with fear and run the other way.
Timothy the human is with his friend Selleg, who he has offered to take to Earth for a week to "see the sights." They are at the spaceport, having just disembarked.
Selleg struggles with his new wheeled luggage. "Ugh, it's so heavy here."
"I'm sorry. I forget that you're not used to Earth gravity. Do you need me to wheel your luggage?" Timothy looks on with genuine concern for his friend.
"I'll be fine. I just hope we don't have to walk too far."
"Nah, the car-rental booth is right here, I'll get us a car and we can drive to my parents."
At the rental booth, Selleg is fascinated with the whole process. Timothy and the clerk go through the options and different kinds of vehicles available. Timothy is asked if he wants "the extra insurance" and he agrees immediately. He exchanges payment and with keys in hand, they walk to the lot.
"I had no idea there were so many different cars to choose from." Selleg remarks. Back home, everyone takes mass transit. Personally owned vehicles don't really exist."
"Really? Huh. I'd love to check it out someday!" They approach a red, low slung vehicle. It has that look that most human machines do of being alive and ready to pounce. Leave it to a predator species to make everything look like it's also a predator. "Okay! Here, I'll put your suitcase in the trunk and we'll set off."
They get in, and Timothy shows Selleg how the seatbelts work. "Just across your body like this and then click the silver part into the slot with the red button there. With a satisfying clunk, the seatbelt is secured. Selleg stares at all the buttons and dials and screens and switches. "Why are there so many displays?"
"What? Oh. Some tell me things about the car, and it's speed, temperature, mileage, things like that, others are for the entertainment system, and still others are for the heating and cooling."
Selleg stopped "The operation of the car is not automatic?"
Timothy shook his head "Nah, it's all manual. Don't worry, I know how to drive."
"You. Operate. This. Vehicle?" Selleg was clearly nervous.
"Sure! I've been doing it since I was 16. Only had one bad accident that whole time." Timothy pushed the start/stop button and the car roared to life. It settled down into a burbling idle. "I sprung for the sports car. It's been a while since I've driven, and I probably won't get another chance for a long time, so I decided to treat myself!"
"You haven't driven in a long time and decided to get a more powerful car anyway?"
"I'll be careful." Timothy promised. Let's go!" He put it in gear and pulled out into traffic.
****
"THAT WAS INSANE! YOU ARE INSANE!" Selleg was yelling.
"That was a perfectly normal drive!" Timothy pleaded. "Selleg, there was nothing unusual about it."
"You were driving less than two meters from the other cars!"
"It was heavy traffic."
"You were going over 100kph!?!"
"All the other cars were too" Timothy answered weakly.
"We passed three crashed cars!!"
"Yeah? Cars crash. Usually it's the drivers fault. I didn't see any ambulances, so everyone was probably all right."
"DON'T YOU THINK THEN THAT MAYBE YOU SHOULDN'T ALL BE DRIVING???" Selleg's fur was bristled and he was pacing.
"I'm sorry you were worried Selleg, it was a perfectly normal drive. I thought you'd be nervous about your first car ride so I drove carefully."
"That was carefully?" This is normal for humans?"
"Driving? Yes. that was by all accounts a perfectly normal drive. Some humans even like it"
In the high gravity of Earth, Selleg sat down heavily. "What have I signed up for?"
Timothy looked at his friend. "I'll just go ahead and cancel the skydiving tickets." he said sadly.
#humans are deathworlders#humans are space orcs#humans are space australians#humans take risks#it's normal for us right?#I like driving anyway#sci fi writing#writing
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Play Me 🖭 James Hetfield (18+)
"Just because I'm not there right now doesn't mean we can't have fun, baby." Your boyfriend's voice rasps out against the shell of your ear, his used voice coming out hoarse. Raising an eyebrow, you wrap your index finger around the phone's cord, wishing it was a strand of his blonde hair instead.
"And what do you have in mind, phone sex? Because the last time we tried, Lars walked in while you had a hand down your pants."
James laughs loudly at the memory, causing you to grin in response, your fingertips lightly grazing the hem of his shirt you were wearing. "I'd like to never have that happen again, actually," He muses out before pausing. "I have something better in mind. I won't touch myself, but you will. And I left behind a gift for you."
Lifting the receiver off of the bed, you began to stand up and look around the room. "Babe, there's nothing new here." Crouching down to look in the bottom shelves, you purse your lips as you hear him let out an amused hum.
"It isn't really new, I just added something to it," Before you could ask why he was being so cryptic, he spoke up again. "What did we get in trouble for on our first date?"
"For listening to rock music on my dad's.." Trailing off, you began to huff out a light peal of laughter before going over to the desk near the dresser. "Walkman." Reaching over to pick up the shoebox you two kept full of memorabilia, you quickly took off the cover in anticipation.
"If this is your way of finally hearing me orgasm while listening to Van Halen, you really went out of your way." You say in a teasing tone as your hand encircles around the cassette player. Removing the headset from the Walkman, you blink in confusion as you take in the appearance of the tape inside.
"Is this a homemade tape?" Pressing the play button without waiting for his response, you freeze mid-step as a moan rings out around your guys' quiet apartment bedroom.
"Don't run from me baby, take it." Flushing from the grunts that bellow out of the small machine in your hand, you hastily press pause.
"James," You whine out, your thighs pressing together as you feel your clit begin to pulsate. Shakily making your way back to the bed, you sit on the edge as you spread your legs wide open.
"Lie back and take your underwear off for me," James says over the phone, causing you to jolt and almost drop it. "Keep on my shirt."
Lifting your hips and following his instructions, a shiver runs through you as your pussy gets exposed to the cool air. "Yes sir." You whimper out, your free hand gripping onto the sheet beside you as you wait impatiently for his next command.
"Press play and don't stop it again." Blinking dazedly, you reach over and blindly press on the buttons until your cries are the only thing you can hear.
"I-I can't, it's too much!" You hear yourself moan out. Redness covers your cheeks and chest as you remember the positions he had you in. Missionary at first, borderline mating press as he had you by the ankles and stretched out over your head.
Doggystyle was next, his tattooed fist clutching your then tangled hair and bruising your hip with the other.
"Stick your fingers in your mouth baby, then trail them down." Spit traveled down your forearm as you wrapped your tongue around your middle and ring fingers. Closing your eyes and imagining them to be his wide girth, you hear him let out a curse as you swallow around them and gently gag.
Lips quirking up in a smile at how reactive he was at the sound, your fingers pop out of your mouth and slowly leave a trail of wet as you grasp onto your breast.
"James please, I need more."
"You'll take what I give you, like a good girl. Stay still, doll."
Tsking out loud, James breathes in deeply as a sadistic grin grows on his face. His next words have you trembling and crying out in frustration.
"Nothing's changed, baby. You still don't get to cum until I tell you to."
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Chained Partners II
i./ii./...
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Chapter 2: Unraveling Secrets
As the days passed, the weight of the deal hung heavy on Y/n's shoulders. They tried to carry on as if nothing had changed, but the guilt gnawed at them, eating away at their soul like a relentless parasite.
Husk, too, struggled to come to terms with what had happened. He found himself plagued by doubts and fears, unable to shake the feeling that he had failed Y/n in some way. But every time he looked into their eyes, filled with equal parts remorse and determination, he knew that he couldn't give up on them.
""Are you okay, sweetheart?" Husk asked one evening, as they sat together in the dimly lit bar. Y/n nodded, but he could see the tension in their shoulders, the haunted look in their eyes. He reached out and took their hand, squeezing it gently. "You don't have to pretend with me, you know. Whatever you're going through, I'm here for you."
Y/n sighed, leaning into his touch. "I know, Husk. And I appreciate it, I really do. It's just… I can't shake this feeling that I've made a terrible mistake."
Husk's heart ached at the sadness in their voice. He wished he could take away their pain, make everything right again. But he knew that some wounds ran too deep to be healed with mere words.
""It's not your fault, Y/n," he said softly, brushing a stray strand of hair from their face. "You were desperate, scared. Anyone would have done the same thing in your position."
Y/n shook their head, tears welling up in their eyes. "But what if I've damned myself for eternity? What if there's no way out of this mess?"
Husk's grip tightened on their hand, his own doubts and fears bubbling to the surface. He wanted to reassure them, to tell them that everything would be okay. But deep down, he wasn't so sure himself.
""We'll figure it out, Y/n," he said, his voice tinged with determination. "Together. No matter what happens, I won't let you face this alone."
Y/n's lips quivered as they leaned in, resting their forehead against his. "Thank you, Husk. I don't know what I'd do without you."
Husk wrapped his arms around them, holding them close as if to shield them from the horrors of Hell itself. In that moment, surrounded by darkness and uncertainty, they found solace in each other's arms, a flicker of hope amidst the chaos.
But little did they know, their troubles were far from over. As they clung to each other in the safety of the bar, a storm was brewing on the horizon, threatening to tear apart the fragile peace they had fought so hard to build. And when it finally struck, they would be forced to confront the harsh realities of their pasts and the secrets that lurked in the shadows, waiting to be uncovered.
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As Husk and Y/n found solace in each other's embrace, unaware of the lurking danger, a shadow slithered across the floor of the bar, unnoticed by the pair lost in their moment of vulnerability. It moved with silent purpose, creeping closer until it reached the darkest corner of the room where Alastor's presence lingered like a malignant shadow.
The shadowy figure coalesced into the form of a grinning demon, his eyes gleaming with malice as he observed the scene before him. With a wicked smirk, he absorbed every detail, relishing in the despair that hung heavy in the air.
Alastor's smile widened at the sight, his eyes glowing with anticipation. This was just the beginning of his twisted game, a game where souls were nothing more than pawns to be toyed with for his own amusement.
"Stayed tuned, Y/n," Alastor murmured to himself, his voice laced with sinister promise. And with that, he vanished into the darkness, leaving behind a trail of chaos and uncertainty in his wake.
Little did Husk and Y/n know, their fate had already been sealed, their lives intertwined with the machinations of a demon far more powerful than they could ever imagine. As they clung to each other in the safety of the bar, unaware of the danger lurking just beyond their reach, they could only hope that their love would be enough to withstand the storm that was about to engulf them.
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omg this is so bonkers
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Trigger warning: suicide attempt
I'm sorry for this. I'm going through a rough time myself and this just wanted to be written.
It was way past midnight and the hallways of the Naval hospital were deserted except for the night nurse who kept making her turns. One room though was filled with people, all gathered around the pale figure lying in the bed and being kept alive by the countless machines he was connected to.
I'm sorry that it has come to this, but then it's not like you guys are gonna miss me anyway.
Admiral Kazansky had used the power of his rank as COMPACFLT to make sure that they could stay with him 24/7 - especially after learning that there was no family or other next of kin to be called.
My father was right. I'm not good for anything, not even when I brought home straight As, not even when I get those meaningless medals.
The room was small. The only two chairs available were occupied by Phoenix and Rooster. The rest of the Daggers were lined up along the walls, Bob having a supporting hand on Phoenix's shoulder. Maverick was standing at the foot of the bed, leaning on the rails as if it was the only thing keeping him upright.
I know I've been an asshole most of the time. It's the only way I managed to survive for this long. Don't show weakness, don't let them come close because you'll only be hurt in the end.
"Anybody, but him... I mean if I'd only known how he really felt," Phoenix mumbled, clumsily wiping at the tears that kept coming. Without saying a word, Bob wrapped her in a hug from behind.
Maverick was right in not choosing me. Rooster was right when he said that I lead people to an early grave. Funny that in the end it seems to be my own.
"The doctors said that the next 72 hours are critical. He needs to start breathing on his own or else..." Maverick sighed, laying his hand on the blanket over Jake's legs in hopes that the young man could feel that he wasn't alone. "Damn it, kid. Not like this, you hear me, son?"
I really thought that I had proofed myself by saving Maverick and Rooster. I had really hoped that I found a squadron, in which I am not the one on the sidelines. I had hoped that maybe we could be friends...
For a long time there was silence in the room - except for the hissing ventilator and the beeping heart monitor.
But I keep fucking up. I keep running my mouth and I keep making the same mistakes over and over again.
"I shouldn't have said those things to him the other day. Hell, I know how it is up there... Fuck, Jake, I'm sorry." Fritz's voice was hoarse as he let himself slip down the wall, ending up in a heap on the floor.
Tell Javy that I am sorry. I'm just too tired.
Javy was standing by the window, looking out into the darkness. Ever since he had helped Rooster and the medics getting Jake into the ambulance, he hadn't said a word.
Tell Rooster Bradley that I am sorry. I am sorry for what I did the first time we met at Top Gun. I shouldn't have pressured you so much into... well, you know what I'm talking about. If only... who knows, we could have been quite the power couple, right? No matter what I said back then, I still love you... so much.
Bradley was a mess. He hadn't left Jake's side since breaking open the younger man's door and finding him on the floor. Sitting next to the bed, he held Jake's hand while also caressing his hair. Too many people had left him behind already, he wouldn't let Jake go, he couldn't let him go. "You damn idiot... Why didn't you say anything? I still fucking love you, too. You can't leave me, baby, please..."
See you on the other side.
#hangster#bradley rooster bradshaw#jake hangman seresin#pete maverick mitchell#top gun maverick#the dagger squad#top gun angst#top gun drabble#my writing
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Into the Rush - Part One | KSJ
Pairing: Seokjin x Reader
Genre: angst, fluff, smut, crack, Best Friend's Brother!AU, Dodgeball!AU
Rating: M (18+)
Warnings: swearing, drinking, mentions of feeling rejected and unlovable, a little angsty but you know me, pansexual!Taehyung in the house, side VMin, Wooga Squad alert, Himbo NamKook alert, dance leader Hobi is reimagined here as a dodgeball team captain, implied sex, the smut is to come (heh) in part two
Word Count: 7.3K for part one; total wc tbd
Disclaimers: NSFW, obviously I don’t own BTS - they just inspire me
Summary: When your best friend Taehyung tells you he has the perfect thing to help you get over a broken heart, you’re surprised to learn he means dodgeball, the beloved game of sociopathic gym teachers everywhere. But even more surprising is the way you find comfort in the game, and so much more, as you fall into the rush with the help of another teammate - his brother, Seokjin.
A/N: Happy belated birthday, Jin! This was written as part of the Catch of the Century collab, hosted by MVPs @raplinesmoon @joheunsaram and @kithtaehyung!
Sooooo this underwent a few rewrites and then my life blew up as the December deadline got closer and then I decided to do Kinkmas because I'm just a gal who can't say no. I knew I could either rush to get this done, be upset at how shoddily written it is, and then hate myself for putting out something I wasn't proud of just to meet the deadline, orrrrr I could be kind to myself and recognize that I am a human and not a machine and sometimes despite my best efforts I fall short, and release it as a two-parter. Et voilà! Here is part one.
Unbeta'd as usual.
Please don't be a silent reader 🥺 I'd love to know what you think! 💕
Masterlist 💜 Find me on AO3 💜 Part Two
“Dodgeball. You want to play dodgeball?”
You stare at your roommate incredulously. Taehyung nods.
“Dodgeball. The kids game? The beloved sport of sociopathic PE teachers everywhere? That dodgeball?”
He can’t be serious. Neither you nor he are the athletic type. But from the solemn look on his face as you continue to sputter in surprise, you know he’s not joking. Taehyung is many things - an artist, a daydreamer, the kindest soul you’ve ever met and your best friend of five years and counting - but he’s not a liar.
Still, when he’d walked into your room five minutes ago, yanked back the curtains to let the late-morning light in, and told you to get up because he had an idea, you’d assumed he’d wanted you to go with him down to the coffee shop on the corner so he could covertly admire his latest crush, the cute barista with the pink hair. Dodgeball was nowhere near the possibilities your mind conjured up.
Taehyung sighs. “Yes. Dodgeball. There���s an adult league that plays at the rec center on Saturdays and I want to join. And I want you to join, too.” He flops down on your bed, nudging you over so he can lie next to you, ignoring your grumbles as you make room. “I think it would be good for you to get out a little. Get some fresh air.”
“I have plenty of fresh air,” you inform him, gesturing to your bedroom window, which is currently cracked about an inch. It might be spring, but the chill that clings in the air still feels like winter.
“Uh-huh. Sure you do. But out of curiosity, when’s the last time you actually left the apartment, besides for work?”
“Um.” He’s got you there. Casting your mind back, you can’t even remember the last time you left the safety of your home to do anything other than clock in at the bartending job where you both work. “Does going to the mailbox count?”
It doesn’t, and he doesn’t even need to respond, just gives you his signature exasperated look, but the warmth in his brown eyes shimmers just beneath as always. “Pumpkin,” he begins, using one of the many silly nicknames he loves to address you by, knowing how much you hate cutesy stuff like that, “you can’t hide in here forever.”
An instant rebuttal floats through your mind. You absolutely can hide in your room for the rest of your life, if you so choose. The internet brings the world to your fingertips. Everything can be delivered these days. Okay, true, you’ll still need to leave for work, but that’s only until you finish your novel and net yourself a publishing deal. Then you can quit your crappy bartending job, build yourself the perfect blanket nest, and become the hermit you were always meant to be.
Joining a dodgeball team doesn’t fit into that plan. It’s going to require you to go outside. Outside is dangerous.
Outside is where he is.
At the sharp pang that stabs your gut, you turn to your roommate with a grimace. “I don’t know. I’m not really a… sports…person - and neither are you, frankly. And it’s a team sport, which means others will be relying on you. You really think this is something you can commit to? I mean, remember the gym?”
Last year, the two of you had joined a gym together at his suggestion, which you both had visited a grand total of one time. He later confessed he’d only signed up because a hot customer at the bar had convinced him to after a long evening of flirting. That short-lived commitment ended the moment Taehyung arrived at the gym and discovered that the hot patron’s promise to give Tae a full-body workout was not, to Tae’s disappointment, a euphemism, but only a sales pitch.
Again, Taehyung doesn’t respond to your question. Instead, he uses the one weapon in his arsenal that destroys you every time the two of you argue over what to do.
With a tilt of his head, Taehyung flashes you his big sad puppy dog eyes.
You sigh. “Goddamn it. Fine. Fine. Let’s play dodgeball.”
Immediately, Taehyung’s countenance changes, a brilliant, boxy smile crossing his face as he grins at your caving. “Great! Sign-ups are actually this afternoon, sooooo… up and at ‘em, cupcake! Let’s get moving.” He jumps up, holding out his hands, and you begrudgingly let him pull you out of bed. “You’re definitely going to need a shower before we meet the other players.”
“Have I ever told you how annoying you are?” you mutter as you follow him down the hallway towards your tiny kitchen to brew some coffee, knowing you’ll need the caffeine if you’re going to be socializing with strangers this afternoon.
He beams again, tossing his dark bangs out of his eyes. “All the time.”
The rec center is only a few blocks from your apartment, but you’d never stepped foot inside before Taehyung drags you down there to sign up for the league. Still, there’s a familiar scent when you walk into the building, the smell of rubber mats and sweat mingling together, stirring up memories of PE classes from grade school. The flashbacks make you shudder.
Taehyung shakes you out of your memories as he steers you towards a folding table that’s been set up in the lobby. “Come on, we check in here.” A friendly woman in a purple tracksuit sitting at the table waves you over.
“Hiya! Are you team leaders or free agents?” She laughs at your blank stares. “Okay, I’ll take that to mean you’re not here to sign up an existing team, but you’re free agents in search of a team to join!”
“Oh, yeah, that’s us,” Taehyung nods sagely, as if he knew that.
“Great! If you’ll just fill out these forms…” she hands you both a sheet of paper, “I will process your fees, and then I can point you in the direction of some teams looking to add some new players!”
Forms? Fees? This is more complicated than you’d expected. You’d figured you’d just walk in and play, like joining a pick-up game of basketball or something similar that people who like sports might do. “So, um, how does this work?”
The smile never leaves her face as Ms. Purple Tracksuit explains that you’ll be joining a team for the next ten weeks to play against other teams in a tournament ending in a championship match between the two best teams. “And the fee covers your uniform!”
“A uniform?”
She leans forward, whispering conspiratorially. “Don’t get too excited. It’s just a t-shirt.”
After you hand in your form and make Taehyung pay your fee, Ms. Purple Tracksuit tells you to head into the main gymnasium, where the team leaders looking for new recruits are waiting. There’s another dose of déjà vu as you enter the room to find several clusters of players standing around, sizing you up as you walk in. It reminds you of being a kid, waiting on the sidelines while the other kids whisper to one another about who to pick.
“Uh, this is a little intense,” you whisper to Taehyung, clinging to his elbow as he blithely strolls between the groups. “I feel like I’m being judged.”
“Nah, this is a numbers thing,” he says. According to Ms. Purple Tracksuit, teams consist of six to ten players, so there’s a good chance you’ll be able to find a team together. If you’re picked at all, that is. “Whatever team needs two players will take us, I’m sure.”
Your roommate just wanders through life with a natural confidence that you’ve rarely seen in others. You suppose it makes sense, given how handsome and talented he is. Still irks you a bit.
“And what makes you say that?” You scan the room, taking in the other players. There are several others who wear similar expressions to your own, looking a little overwhelmed. It strangely gives you hope that you won’t be the only one here who doesn’t know what she’s doing.
And then there are those who look like they live, eat, and breathe dodgeball, like the two tall, muscle-bound gods to your left, both wearing a shirt that says “Rock the Balls.” Team leaders, you assume.
“Uh-huh, sure,” Taehyung replies distractedly, and you frown, following his gaze to see what caught his attention, since he’s clearly not listening, only to spy pink hair and a gorgeous smile that you recognize from your favorite coffee shop.
Grabbing his arm, you force your roommate to look at you as you hiss his name. “Taehyung. Tell me we’re not here because of that barista!”
“Hmm?” Tae’s starry-eyed expression is all the answer you need. Of course. Of course he dragged you here so he could flirt with his crush. How did you not see this coming? “What? Noooo, I told you, I want to play dodgeball! But isn’t it a nice coincidence that Jimin is here?”
“Right. Coincidence. You’re unbelievable.” With an exasperated sigh, you give him a push. “Well, go talk to your man. See if his team needs two new players.”
Taehyung doesn’t need telling twice, happily bouncing towards the barista. And now you’re alone in a gymnasium full of strangers, feeling left out again. As you slowly revolve in place, looking for somewhere to hide and wait for Taehyung to return, one of the muscle-bound gods approaches.
“Hey,” he says, giving you a little head nod. “You looking for a team?”
Technically, you suppose you are, but you should probably see if Taehyung will be dragging you on to Jimin’s team with him first. But as you glance at the god, with his wavy dark hair and silver lip ring nestled in the corner of a pair of rather pink lips, you’ve the urge to say yes. He and his buddy are mind-meltingly hot.
“I’m not sure. I’m here with a friend,” you finally respond. Super glad Taehyung forced you to shower today.
The god nods, eyes dragging over your frame. If you touched your cheeks right now, you’re pretty sure they’d be blazing hot under his gaze. “That’s cool. I’m Jungkook, by the way, and this is Namjoon.” He nods to the other god, whose lips quirk in a cool half-smile.
“Sup,” he rumbles, jerking his chin in your direction. He runs a hand through his short, dark hair, fingers scratching over the lines buzzed into the sides. “We run Rock the Balls. And we’re looking for two new members.”
“Actually, that’s gonna be three new members,” a familiar voice declares behind you. Your eyes widen before you spin to find yet another handsome man behind you. But this one you know well.
“Jin-ah!” Throwing your arms around his neck, you attack Seokjin with a hug, grinning as his squeaky laugh echoes through the gymnasium. It’s been nearly a year since you’ve seen Taehyung’s older brother, but he looks mostly the same - the same warm brown eyes surrounded by ever-deepening laugh lines, the same perfect cupid’s bow twitching as he smiles as you. The only difference is that his hair is a little shaggier now, a fluffy brown cloud that bounces when you finally release him.
“I could get used to a hello like that,” Seokjin grins.
“When did you get home?” you ask, vaguely aware that the gods have drifted away. “And what are you doing here?”
“Got in two days ago. I would’ve stopped by to see you and Tae-yah, but I needed to get my land legs back first.” Seokjin probably means that pretty literally, since he’s spent the last year on a research station in the middle of the ocean. As a marine biologist, he works at a local lab run by a federal agency, studying the effects of ocean pollution on various species of fish. Occasionally, he has to do field work, but this last round was his longest stint yet, taking him away from home for nearly twelve full months. “When I texted him this morning, he mentioned that he was joining a dodgeball team, and I… well, I had to check that out for myself.” You both laugh. “So I thought I’d surprise you.”
“You definitely did that!” you confirm. “I want to hear all about your research trip. Did you find anything interesting? Discover any new species?” You lean in excitedly. “Did you finally find some mermaids??”
Seokjin tuts. “Aish, how many times do I have to tell you, I’m not a deep sea diver, I’m just a guy pulling water samples off a dock?”
“Yeah, whatever, Jin Cousteau.”
He rolls his eyes. “I was really hoping that that nickname would’ve died out in the last year.”
“Oh no, that one’s for life. And listen, you can downplay your job all you want, but I know the deal. You just can’t tell me anything because the government forces you to keep those secrets locked down. But I’ll get the truth out of you someday.”
“Oh?” Seokjin cocks an eyebrow. “And just how d-”
“Hyung!!”
“Oof!” Seokjin grunts as your roommate launches himself at his brother, tackling him in a bear hug. When the affectionate embrace becomes a wrestling match in the middle of the gym, you feel a presence at your side, and turn to find Jimin and another man watching the melee with a surprised look on their faces.
“Don’t worry,” you reassure them, “they’re always like this.”
“Uh, okay,” the barista chuckles. “Um, I wanted to introduce you to my friend, Hoseok. Hoseok-ah, this is YN, Taehyung-ah’s roommate.”
“Hey.” The other man grins a smile that can only be described as a beam of pure sunshine, and you wonder if this dodgeball league is for models only, because you’re basically surrounded by nothing but gorgeous people.
“Hi. Um, and that is Seokjin, Tae-yah’s brother,” you gesture to the skirmish.
“Mmmice to meet eww!” Seokjin’s response is a little muffled by Taehyung’s armpit, but he manages to wave.
“Hyung, why didn’t you tell me you were going to be here?” Taehyung whines.
“Anted oo urprise!” Seokjin finally untangles himself from his brother’s headlock. “Wanted to surprise you,” he says again, more clearly.
“We’re starting a new team, and we could use three players, if you’d all like to join us?” Hoseok asks.
“Are you sure you want this on your team?” you reply, gesturing to Taehyung and Seokjin.
“I think we can handle them,” Jimin grins, and Taehyung’s smile turns blinding. “Besides, we could use that energy on the court!”
“Yeah,” Hoseok agrees. “Also, we’re a brand new team, so we’re desperate!”
“That’s my favorite word.” Seokjin’s shoulders shake as he cracks himself up. “We’re in!”
Hoseok smiles. “Fantastic. Welcome to the Seven Slamurai!”
Once you’ve finished signing up for Hoseok’s team, you, Taehyung, and Seokjin decide to grab some dinner together. Another thing about Seokjin that hasn’t changed during his time away is his voracious appetite, so you take him to an all-you-can-eat bbq restaurant not far from the rec center.
As the soju starts flowing and the plates start piling up, Seokjin tells you about his year on the ocean. He starts out with a disclaimer, warning you that his research isn’t interesting, and he’s not entirely wrong. Most of it goes over your head, since it’s been years since you last took a biology course. But it’s not really what he’s talking about that keeps you focused on him, it’s how he talks about it that holds your attention. You’re fascinated by his passion for his work. His dedication to studying ocean life in order to preserve and protect it. It makes you wish you had a cause of your own to defend.
And then, of course, as the liquor catches up with him, he tells you all the gossip about the other crew members on his station - the hookups, the fights, all the little scandals that brought the drama to the high seas. Seokjin’s always been a good storyteller, knowing just what to say to keep you and Taehyung laughing.
“But what about you?” you ask when Seokjin pauses to stuff some pork belly in his face. “Did you have any flings with any of the other scientists? Hmmm? Dip your fishing rod in company waters?”
“Gross,” Taehyung mumbles around a mouthful of beef bulgogi.
Seokjin shakes his head. “Nah. I didn’t click with anyone there like that. Honestly, we spent so much time together each day that by the end of it, I was dying to get away from most of them, which was really hard to do since we were basically stranded together in the middle of nowhere! So I spent a lot of my downtime hiding in my bunk, reading old research papers that I found in the station’s library.”
“You read research papers for fun?” Taehyung looks horrified.
Downing another shot of soju, you lean towards Seokjin, licking the peach-flavored drops from your lips. “Come on. You’re telling me you went an entire year without hooking up with anyone? Not even a little making out?”
“Nope.” Seokjin pops the ‘p.’ At your incredulous look, he laughs, lifting his shoulders. “What? A year’s not that long! I made it just fine.”
“Yeah,” Taehyung agrees, “it’s not that long. Besides, he was probably jerking off nonstop.”
Soju flies out of Seokjin’s nose as you and Taehyung burst into raucous laughter. Seokjin scolds his brother, who argues back as he always does, telling the elder to loosen up, while you sit quietly, chin in hand, smiling to yourself as you watch the fireworks, realizing how nice it is to have Seokjin home again.
He and Taehyung are pretty much a package deal. You’d met Taehyung first during your senior year of college. At the time, Seokjin was finishing up his graduate program at the same school, and his plans to move out of his and Taehyung’s apartment upon graduation and roll right into some field work had Taehyung feeling like he was being left high and dry. You’d ended up becoming Taehyung’s new roommate that summer, and then it had turned out that Taehyung’s worries were all for naught, because Seokjin still spent most of his free time hanging out at his (now your) place, anyway.
You didn’t mind then and you don’t mind now. Seokjin’s a good balance to all of Taehyung’s extremes. Where Taehyung has his head in the clouds, Seokjin’s feet are firmly planted in the ground. Taehyung can be mercurial, even flaky sometimes, but Seokjin’s rock-steady. They’re not complete opposites in everything, though. Just like his brother, Seokjin has a big heart.
Once Seokjin runs out of steam, Taehyung shrugs. “I’m just saying, being with someone isn’t the only way to be satisfied. Just look at me. I’m single and I’m happy.”
He looks almost smug as he states this, and something inside you snaps. The last thing you want to hear from Taehyung is another speech about loving yourself. You’ve heard plenty of those over the last few weeks. You do love yourself.
You just wanted someone else to love you, too.
Pointing your chopsticks at him, you frown. “Oh, please don’t start! One, you were just dating a guy last month, so it’s not like you’ve gone an entire year without being with someone, and two, you literally just dragged me onto a freaking dodgeball team so you could start dating another! So I don’t want to hear any platitudes about embracing your singleness or anything like that.”
Taehyung is silent for a moment after your outburst. “Sorry,” he finally says, poking at the remains of the kimchi on his plate. “I wasn’t thinking.”
Seokjin’s gaze bounces between the two of you. “I feel like I’m missing something.”
Taehyung sees you nibbling on your bottom lip and he turns to his brother. “I can explain. Buttercup here-”
“Buttercup can speak for herself,” you interject, “and don’t call me that.” With a sigh, you slug back another shot of soju and look at Seokjin. He’s waiting patiently to hear what you have to say. “I was… kinda seeing someone a few months ago. And I thought that I had something with them, and it turned out that I was wrong. They didn’t feel the same way I did, so…” You trail off, not sure how to say ‘so I spent the last few months crying in my room over a broken heart.’
Luckily, Seokjin spares you this confession, nodding sympathetically. “I gotcha,” he says simply, and you nod back, stuffing some rice into your mouth so you don’t cry at the warmth in his expression.
“I don’t know why you’re being so cryptic about who it was,” Taehyung frowns. “She’s talking about Yoongi.”
Something passes over Seokjin’s face quickly, so fast you almost miss it as you smack your roommate on his arm. He yelps in shock.
“What? He was going to find out eventually, they’re best friends!”
You know this, but it doesn’t make you feel any better. Seokjin is actually the one who introduced the two of you, at the party he threw before he left for his research trip. You remember that night very clearly, can close your eyes and picture Yoongi standing there, with silver hair and silver hoops in his ears, dark cat eyes shimmering as Seokjin gave him your name, and you feel that same swoop in your stomach as you did then. Only now it comes with a painful twist of your heart as well.
Falling for Yoongi happened so quickly. You’d immediately bonded over a shared love of hip-hop and whisky, spending the party huddled together on the couch, snarking over Seokjin’s music collection and liquor selection, talking until the sun came up and Seokjin started throwing everyone out. As you left, you’d asked Seokjin for Yoongi’s number. But before you even entered it into your phone, a text appeared from Yoongi himself. He confessed he’d asked Seokjin for your number as well.
“I haven’t talked to Yoongi-yah in a while.” Seokjin glances at you. “You know how hard it was for me to keep in touch. There’s no cell phone reception in the middle of the ocean, and the internet seemed to come and go at will. At least I heard from you two occasionally, but I didn’t hear from Yoongs except on my birthday, and we didn’t… you didn’t come up.” He looks apologetic as he says those last words, and your heart pangs again.
“It’s okay, why would I have?” you snort. “Like I said, it turned out to be a big bunch of nothing between us.” Despite what you thought. What you felt.
A server appears at the table to drop off the bill, and you welcome the interruption, wanting to go home and crawl into the safety of your bed again, feeling like it was a mistake to leave in the first place. Taehyung and Seokjin fight over who is going to pay, with Taehyung winning, practically throwing his card at the server, but you’re too distracted by your thoughts to enjoy the scene.
Texting with Yoongi had turned into late night conversations. Going to concerts and bars to check out new musicians, doing whisky tastings and visiting distilleries. It felt like you were glued at the hip for a few months, and the more you got to know him, the harder you fell. Like the way you fell into his bed, over and over.
But nothing sticks out in your memory more than that last night, the last time you saw him, when you finally found the courage to tell him how you felt. You’ll never forget the sad look on his face. It told you everything you needed to know before he even spoke.
“Buttercup?” Taehyung’s voice pulls you from your reverie. “You ready to go?” He and Seokjin are staring at you, both on their feet already, waiting to leave.
With a nod, you rise, and follow them out into the night.
Despite the name, the Seven Slamurai consists of nine players. (When you asked why, Jimin rolled his eyes and said he’d tried to argue with Hoseok over the moniker, but Hoseok was insistent that the name stay true to his favorite movie.) In addition to Hoseok, Jimin, Seokjin, Taehyung, and yourself, there are four others at your first practice session on Monday night at the rec center - Wooshik, Sunghwan, Seojoon, and Hyungsik. You exchange a few quick greetings with your new teammates before Hoseok gestures for you all to sit on the bleachers.
“Welcome everyone to our first team practice!” Hoseok smiles, clapping, and you lightly clap along until you realize no one else is. “Before we do some warm-ups, I thought I’d take a minute to explain the rules of the game, for those of you who haven’t played before.”
He launches into an overview of the sport. Most of it is familiar from your school days, but there are a few things that are new, like something about a rush, and a neutral zone, and a burden ball? You glance around to see if anyone else looks confused. Most of the new guys wear bored expressions. It’s safe to assume they’re experienced players. To your left, Taehyung is whispering something to Jimin, completely ignoring Hoseok’s spiel.
At least Seokjin, on your right, seems slightly dazed by the long list of rules that Hoseok’s rattling off. Now that you think of it, you’ve never seen Seokjin in any athletic context. As far as you know, he doesn’t play any sports, just like you and Taehyung, and he’s not a gym rat. So you have no idea what to expect from him on the court. Maybe he’ll be just as awkward as you’re expecting to be.
“Any questions?” Hoseok finishes up. There’s a moment of silence from the group, and then he claps his hands. “Okay! Then let’s warm up a little.”
You move from the bleachers to a mat on the floor and Hoseok leads everyone through a series of stretches. It’s been a long time since you’ve done any, so you’re not surprised when your toes remain fully out of your reach. Jimin, on the other hand, has folded himself in half, forehead practically touching the ground as he holds on to both feet. Turning to Seokjin to make a comment, you’re surprised to find him in a similar position.
He catches you looking. “Yoga,” he explains with a wink.
“Damn. Maybe I should start,” you grunt, giving up.
“The games are played with teams of five, which means we’ll have four alternates for each match,” Hoseok explains once everyone’s limbered up. “For today, I’d like us to run through a practice game, four on each side. I’m going to stay out and watch, to help me get a feel for who might be a starter and who might be an alt.”
The group splits in half, with you, Taehyung, Seokjin, and Jimin on one side, and the rest on the other. Hoseok stands at one end of the line in the middle of the court, where six balls lie waiting.
“Okay, ready, set!” And with a sharp blast of the whistle hanging from his neck, Hoseok brings the game to a start.
Immediately, Jimin and Taehyung run forward towards the center line, reaching for a ball each, while the other team mirrors their actions, rushing forward. But you? You freeze in the scramble, hands automatically coming up to shield your head. And as the first balls fly towards your side, you scream.
And so does Seokjin.
“Shit!” you curse as one of the rubber balls bounces off your arm. That’s definitely going to leave a mark.
“Fuck!” Seokjin yelps as he’s smacked in the shoulder by another ball.
Tweet!
The action stops as Hoseok blows his whistle. His sunny smile is gone, replaced by an intense look, eyebrows furrowed, mouth turned down. It’s intimidating, especially since it’s aimed directly at you.
“That was… not bad,” he says slowly through gritted teeth, speaking as though the words hurt him. “But maybe this time, you two should try joining the opening rush? Remember, no one can throw a ball at you as long as you’re in the neutral zone, so you’ll have time to grab and get back out of the line of fire.”
He glances from you to Seokjin, who nods as you grin in embarrasment. Great, you’ve already been identified as a weak player. You were hoping you could at least pretend to know what you were doing for a little while. Fly under the radar.
Taehyung wraps an arm around your waist. “Come on, ladybug, it’s not that scary. You just gotta jump in. Don’t think, just go.”
You shake him off with a scoff. Easy for him to say. You saw the way he was running around the court a minute ago, taking to the chaos like a duck to water. Should’ve known he’d turn out to be a natural athlete on top of all his other annoyingly amazing traits.
The game restarts, and this time you make an attempt to run towards the center line, but still hesitate, flashbacks of being pelted with balls running through your brain. Why did you agree to this? You always hated dodgeball in school!
Seokjin, on the other hand, joins Jimin and Taehyung at the line, and scoops up a ball before dashing back to where you’re frozen. The balls start flying again, and once again you’re out before anyone else. After a few more minutes, Hoseok ends the play.
“That was better!” he nods. “But let’s try it again, and this time maybe you can make it all the way forward, huh, YN?” His tone is encouraging, but his smile seems strained.
As you shuffle back towards the end of the court, you nudge Jimin. “Is Hoseok okay? He looks a little stressed.”
Jimin shoots you a lopsided smile. “He’s trying not to be as… intense… as he usually gets. We got kicked off our last team because he went a little overboard with his, uh, enthusiasm during the practice matches.”
The whistle blows before you’re ready, and you decide to take Taehyung’s advice, so you bolt forward without thinking, snatch up a ball, and then back away, not wanting to turn your back to the men behind you. In doing so, you catch Wooshik’s eye, and he grins coldly, winding up.
“Shit!” you yell, jumping out of the way in time. Taehyung dives in to catch it, sending Wooshik out of the game. But you’re not safe, as Seojoon takes aim next. Seokjin is next to you, trying to decide where to throw the ball in his hand, so you duck behind him, mimicking his movements. Eventually, he realizes he has a shadow.
“Are you using me as a human shield?” He bobs to the left. You follow.
“It’s not my fault you’re so broad!”
Seokjin honks a noisy mix of delighted laughter and insulted exclamation. Seojoon tires of waiting for you to emerge from behind Seokjin, so he pitches the ball forward, a low toss heading for Seokjin’s legs. Seokjin bends gracefully to catch the difficult throw, taking Seojoon out of the game, and as Seokjin doubles over, you snap the ball in your hands towards Hyungsik, hitting him directly in the side. Another ball rolls towards your feet, so you scoop it up and nail Sunghwan dead center of his chest.
And with that triple play, your side wins, with all four players still in.
There’s no whistle to end the game, as Hoseok’s mouth falls open, gawking wide-eyed at you. “She’s a sniper,” he whispers in an awed voice. Everyone turns to stare at you.
“What?” you ask, looking around. “What did I do now?”
According to Jimin, it’s tradition for the dodgeball teams to go out for drinks after practices and matches, so after hitting the locker room, the nine of you meet up at the Pied Piper, a quiet bar around the corner from the rec center. Thank god Taehyung convinced you to bring a change of clothes. You’d foolishly assumed you wouldn’t break a sweat, but you sure as fuck had.
Since the rec center isn’t that big, the practice schedules are staggered out, with only two other teams meeting on Wednesday nights - the Dodging Divas and Rock the Balls. By the time your team arrives at the bar, the others have already claimed most of the tables. As Taehyung and the others push the remaining tables together, Hoseok, Seokjin, and you sidle up to the bar to start ordering drinks.
Once the bartender drifts away to start pulling drafts, Hoseok turns to you with a bright smile. “Congrats, the two of you are definitely going to be starters.”
To say you’re surprised would be an understatement.
“Me? Really?” you squeak, glancing at Seokjin, who also appears dumbfounded. “Why?”
Hoseok leans against the bartop. “Look, I’ve been playing this game for long enough to know a strong arm when I see it,” he declares solemnly, tapping your bicep with two fingers. “I think with my help, you could be one of the best snipers out there. As for you,” he nods at Seokjin, “I think your flexibility is going to come in handy, like it does for Jimin. Also, I saw the way you two were working together on the court. If we can hone your skills, you’ll be an unstoppable duo for sure.” He grins. “The rest of the league won’t know what hit them, when the Seven Slamurai come through.”
The bartender returns with the first three beers of your order, and Hoseok carries them away with another nod, leaving you and Seokjin staring at each other in silence.
Then you both burst into laughter.
“Is he for real?” Seokjin asks, eyebrows raised. The bartender sets more glasses in front of you, and he grabs one, taking a long sip.
“I think so. I got the idea from Jimin that dodgeball means a lot to him, but wow. What he said is absolutely ridiculous, and yet… I do feel oddly inspired.”
“I know what you mean.” Seokjin grins. “Should we correct him, though?”
“About what?”
“Us working as a team. We weren’t working together so much as you were hiding behind me.”
His grin turns teasing, and a retort builds itself on your tongue. But before you can fire it off, a figure at the other end of the bar catches your eye. One of the Rock the Balls gods. Namjoon, maybe? He nods at you, dimple popping as his lips curl into a slight smirk. You blink, then raise one of the glasses of beer in his direction.
Seokjin follows your gaze. “Friend of yours?”
“Not really. One of the other teams’ leaders. We met at the sign up.”
Seokjin hums, giving Namjoon a second look. He taps the bartop while you help yourself to one of the pints. “Hey, so what you were talking about at dinner the other night… about Yoongi? I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”
You should’ve known the subject would come back up. With a little shrug, you attempt a grin, but only succeed in a grimace. “You don’t have anything to apologize for.”
“I know. But I’ve also been where you are, having feelings for someone that go unreciprocated, so… I’m sorry. I know it hurts.” He pauses, gaze locked on the glass in his hand. “For what it’s worth, I think he’s a total idiot.”
“I’m not going to argue there,” you quip, letting out an airy laugh. "But I'm the one who imagined the whole thing, so really, I'm not any smarter."
He looks at you then, a sober expression on his face. “I mean it. He’s the idiot. Not you. So just - just don’t let his stupidity have any bearing on how you might think about yourself, okay?”
You blink, wondering if you’ve suddenly gone completely transparent, because he’s seeing right through you. How are you not supposed to take Yoongi’s rejection as proof that you’re unlovable? If you were lovable, then wouldn’t he love you?
“I… okay.” Nodding, you reach for the glasses that have been sitting in front of you for a few minutes. “Um. We should probably get these to the rest of the team before they get antsy.”
Taehyung pats the seat next to him when you return to the group, and Seokjin takes the empty seat on your other side. “Hoseok just told us the good news,” he informs you, happily grabbing one of the beers in your hand.
“What, that Jinnie and I are gonna be starters?”
“That we are gonna be starters! You, me, hyung, Jimin-ah, and Hoseok-ssi.” Taehyung beams brightly as Jimin leans across him at the mention of his name. “He said we’ll work on our teamwork next practice, so we’re ready for our first match next weekend!”
“Oh! Well, damn, look at us go!” You lift your glass and everyone else does the same. “Cheers!”
“To teamwork!” Seokjin adds, eyes crinkling as he clinks his glass against yours. You grin back before taking a big sip. Maybe you’ll survive this season after all.
You’re not going to survive this season.
“Come on! Faster!”
A shrill whistle blast sounds as you hit the wall, spinning around before running back towards the center line. It’s Thursday night, so you’re at practice again. Your team has been running drills for only ten minutes now, but you’re pretty sure you’re going to die, panting terribly as your toe hits the crosses the line.
“Pick it up!” Hoseok yells as you spin again, heading back for the end of the court. As your fingertips reach the wall, he blows the whistle again, and you flatten your palms, pressing your forehead against the cold cement.
“I did not sign up for this,” Seokjin huffs next to you. “I signed up to dodge balls. This is not dodging balls!”
“Are you two okay?” Taehyung is neither panting nor huffing as he eyes you both with concern.
“How are you not dying like us?! You don’t work out!” Yelling takes up too much of your oxygen, and you sink to the ground, legs folding underneath you.
Taehyung shrugs. “It was only a few running drills. Nothing to get worked up over.”
Unable to respond, you settle for giving him the evil eye. You jump as Hoseok’s whistle sounds again.
“If he doesn’t stop it with that thing, I’m gonna make him eat it,” you mutter under your breath. Seokjin’s shoulders shake with silent laughter as he reaches out a hand to pull you to your feet.
Hoseok’s inner drill instructor doesn’t take a break when the practice game starts, alternates on one side, starters on the other. Somehow, he manages to run, catch, throw, and yell instructions the entire time, like a demented multihyphenate. It would be impressive if it weren’t irritating.
You play a total of three rounds against the alternates. The first round is awkward, filled mostly with Hoseok’s manic shouting. At one point, he tells you to cover the right and Taehyung to flank the left, and as the two of you run to switch sides, you run smack into each other. The alternates win.
In the second round, things go better. There are no collisions, but there’s also not much cohesion, either. You try to repeat last practice’s winning move, ducking behind Seokjin, but he’s too unpredictable, jumping all over the place to try to catch throws, and you’re not able to keep from getting hit. Your team loses again.
When the whistle signals the end of the round, you head for the bleachers, where you’ve stashed a bottle of water and a towel, having realized last practice that both items were desperately needed. The rest of your team follows.
“Well, this isn’t working,” Hoseok sighs, fanning himself with his shirt. “They’re kicking our asses.”
“Maybe - and just hear me out - yelling isn’t the way to motivate us?” Jimin suggests, tossing his sweat-soaked hair out of his face. You can practically see little hearts dancing in Taehyung’s eyes as he watches the motion.
Hoseok’s head twists towards his friend, but instead of swearing at him like you expect, he just stares. “I’m. I’m doing it again, aren’t I?”
Jimin claps him lightly on the shoulder. “Yep.”
Hoseok stares for a few more seconds, and you’re on the verge of asking if he’s okay when he finally speaks. “Okay, new plan. Let’s just go out there and, ugh, have fun, okay?” His smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes as he leads Jimin and Taehyung back out onto the court.
Seokjin leans over. “If we lose, ten bucks says he snaps and eats that whistle himself.”
You laugh, gently pushing Seokjin back onto the court.
“Hey. Should we try that shield thing again?”
“Yeah,” you nod. “I mean, I was trying last round, but you were kinda all over the place.”
“I’ll try to be more obvious with my moves. Or I guess you can guide me? Just tell me which way to go.”
You nod, and then you’re off, running for the center line as the round starts. Without Hoseok barking orders at the group, there’s a definite shift in the atmosphere. As you stoop to sweep up a ball, quickly diving behind Seokjin’s tall frame, scoping out your next target, it hits you - not a ball, but a thought.
You’re having fun.
Grinning wildly, you hiss “Left!” Seokjin immediately darts left, and you line up behind him, ready and waiting. A throw from the other team goes high, and Seokjin leaps towards it, snagging the ball out of the air. As soon as you peek out from around his side, you hit Wooshik, ball bouncing off his thigh with a satisfyingly loud “thock!”
“Yes!” Seokjin throws his hand out for a high five. You slap it quickly, ducking another toss. On your other side, Hoseok and Jimin make tandem catches, and the match ends with your team victorious.
“That was so much better! I really feel like we’re an actual team now,” Hoseok beams, looking genuinely happy again. “One more week of practice and then it’s match time!”
The others drift towards the locker rooms as Seokjin nudges you with his hip. “Did that work better for you this time?”
“Yeah, it did. I guess that’s how it should always work, huh - me giving you orders and you following them blindly?” You wrap your towel around your neck, flashing him a cheeky grin.
Seokjin laughs, running his hand through his fluffy hair, which has gotten curly in the humidity from the game. Rather than spout off a snarky retort, he tugs on the ends of your towel, pulling you towards him. His deep brown eyes trail over your face, landing on your mouth, before his gaze snaps back to yours.
“That works for me,” he murmurs, soft smile playing on his plush lips. “Just say the word and I’ll follow.”
And then he walks away.
You stare at the locker room doorway that he disappears into for a good minute after he’s gone, mind racing. That’s not the first time the two of you have been that close - both Seokjin and his brother are very cuddly people, and you’ve always been comfortable with showing them affection in the form of warm hugs or snuggles on the couch.
But whatever just happened was not that. The moment between you felt charged. Full of something like… possibility.
With a sigh, you shake off the confusing thoughts and gather your things to head for the locker room, desperately needing a shower. And a drink.
© 2022-23 by sunshinerainbowsbts/minisugakoobies. Crossposted to AO3. Please do not copy or repost.
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I know I'm posting a day late here, but Happy Birthday Bendy! February 10th, 2024 marks the 7 year anniversary of when Bendy and the Ink Machine came out. And boy, has it been a wild ride. Normally I would reserve this for my Bendy sideblog, @angelofthepage , but I'm posting it here because this is where I started years ago, and I want some of those people who don't see that blog to have a chance to see this. Because you guys are a part of this story.
In about three months, seven years ago, I was in finals hell, working through my process book for my packaging design class in one of the dorm lounges while my roommate had taken the room for herself again. And the only thing keeping me sane was putting Can't Be Erased and Build Our Machine on loop as I worked. BATIM only had two chapters out, and I didn't know everything about it, but I was so intrigued by what its deal was. I took one look at Sammy Lawrence and I wanted to know everything about him. Something about this barely started game, the idea of your characters coming to life to kill you, it thrilled me, intrigued me. It was something I was really afraid of, being so attached to my characters and putting so much of my identity in my art. And while the story isn't really all that much about cartoons themselves being alive, it gave me something else that ended up changing my life.
Over that summer, I would become obsessed, and for the first time in years, I let myself be a fangirl again. And maybe one day I'll pull up the timeline and tell you how it all went down. But right now, after all the celebrating of yesterday, I just wanna take a moment to appreciate the last seven years. All the people I've met, all the friends I've made. All the experiences we've had together, big and small. Some have been incredibly close, and others have been people I still smile about whenever I see them on my feed, even if we're not all doing stuff in the same fandom anymore. There's some people I've fallen out of touch with that I likely won't ever see again that I miss. There's some I'll be lucky if I never see again. There's the official voice actors for Dark Revival, which I've had the pleasure of working with on community things here in the fandom. I regularly moderate their livestreams (or Lovestreams as we call them) where they sign prints and interact with us fans (and sometimes I'm tech support, once an ink machine technician, always an ink machine technician xD). I'm honored to call a lot of them my friends, we've had some truly wonderful conversations. I've spent a lot of time in a variety of servers, trying to uplift people and make for a positive fandom experience for everyone, fans old and new. Sometimes it lands me in interesting places, like helping out over on the Inky News channel. The host, Brandon, invited me over to guest star on his anniversary stream yesterday, and in the past I've been fortunate enough to showcase my art on two of his interviews, one with Dave Rivas and one with Adrienne Kress. Sometimes it lands me on fun projects, like working on a fan game, and for the first time it's not as a voice actor! I'm a writer. I've had my work uplifted in turn too, meeting people who value me for me and also cheer me on when I try new things (sometimes entirely new mediums like doll customizing). I got my first helpful constructive critique in this fandom, and it was something I ASKED for. That is a huge personal milestone! I have a really complex and twisty set of feelings about critique, and finally, I feel better, because someone helped me start to unravel that just by being themselves and being thoughtful. It's inspired me to want to be better in how I handle critique and problem solving with others.
I spent so much of my life putting my self worth in other people's hands. I thought I would never be good enough to have friends who didn't treat me like garbage. I thought I'd never be a good artist in any sense of the word either. But I was wrong. I've grown. I'm valued, I'm wanted. I don't have to hide parts of myself to be desirable. Sometimes being the silly, goofy, fangirl that is Kat is enough. My art is enough, my ideas are enough, my flavor is tasty, and I am a goddamn treat. And after so many years of not knowing that, I'm glad I finally do. And it's all because of the people. It wasn't ever that my flavor was bad, it's that I hadn't found people with a taste for it yet. Bendy's greatest gift was giving me a fresh start, a chance to meet new people, good people, and for that, I'm forever grateful. Even though things have changed, I'm glad I met each and every one of you, you all taught me something valuable along the way, and I think about those experiences we shared often.
I won't lie to you, I've been rather frustrated with Bendy lately. And I think a lot of it has to do with the games not truly having grown with me. At some point our paths deviated, and there are elements of what's come and what's coming that are getting away from what really enticed me about the very first entry, the things I valued most in it. But in some ways, analyzing that has led me to figure out what made that first game so special. It was human. It was a character focused game, and each of the characters, while vague, gave us just enough about themselves that we could feel for them, get invested, imagine, maybe even sympathize. Everyone is a tragedy, but they're all different flavors of tragedy. And it was seeing people explore that, seeing people write these characters in ways that were so human, that really built a connection. For some people, Bendy is another indie horror experience. For others, it's something to indulge in that hits hard on a personal level. In many ways, it attracts a lot of us who feel like misfits. It's many things. But to me, the magic was in the people. The people in this universe, and the people in its real world community.
It has solidified my belief that people should play with fiction however they want, no matter how far it deviates from the canon, no matter how weird it is. Go be interpretive, go tell your story, go be free to make what speaks to you! (All I ask is that you're thoughtful about tagging it so people can make smart choices about engaging with it.) All stories are worth telling. Even if no one gets into it, having told it makes a difference.
Whether you're someone who's been there from the beginning, or someone that's new to Bendy, I hope you're all having fun. Whether you've finished exploring the world or you've just begun, I hope you've found something valuable. Thank you, for coming along for the ride. Here's to many more fun experiences and stories, be they official or be they in the fandom. Happy Bendyversary!
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Anonymous
Noah Sebastian x OFC
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K listen, I've haven't written any band FF in a LONG LONG LONG time, mkay? But Bad Omens...Noah Sebastian...mmmph.
Let's see how far we get here.
If you enjoy, let me know. If you want to be tagged in the next part, let me know that too. If you even so much as take the time to read MY SINCEREST GRATITUDES CAUSE WRITING THIS STUFF IS MY ESCAPE. xo
Warnings: Alcohol abuse, overall abuse, mild violence (ie. bar fights), smut, swearing, and altogether just a lot of fuckery.
+It goes without saying. This is a work of fiction. My words are mine. Plagiarism is a crime.
Part 1 - Burning Out
Work had been long today. Longer than most days. The customers screaming at me had only taken it's toll so much, but having a God awful supervisor who was hell bent on making me late for my meeting, knowing full well how important my twice weekly meetings were, had completely wiped my energy and patience in one fell swoop. Needless to say, I was in no mood for excess attitude or traffic today. Which is why I found myself cursing at the jackass in the SUV in front of me, taking at least a year to make a right hand turn into the close to empty parking lot where the meeting was being held. It took the last of my self restraint to not lay on my horn and flip a specific finger at the driver.
Finally reaching the normal parking space in front of the unmarked office building, I silently breathed a sigh of relief. I had made it, only 2 minutes later than I should be. I began scrambling for my energy drink and my bag before shuffling out of my car and pressing the fob to hear the beep of the alarm set. My poor beat up Tahoe was doing her best, so I never took my frustrations out on her.
As I crossed the parking lot, I whipped my head around to gauge the spaces, noticing all of the regulars were already here, meaning I was the last to arrive. Sucks, given I'm the meeting organizer. Something caught my eye. A vehicle I didn't recognize, a black SUV. The same one who apparently can't make a right turn to save their life. Newbie? The rest of the offices were closed for the day, so I can't see why else they'd be here.
The building is always so quiet at 6PM, so the tapping of my chucks on the tile floors is louder than I'd like, drawing attention to my obvious lateness. (To who?). Didn't matter. I felt ashamed. These meetings are the most important facet of my life right now. I needed to be more punctual. Maybe next time, I'll tell Supervisor Sam to fuck right off like he deserves.
"Guys, I am so fucking sorry. Douchebag sup made me late...again." I announced as I backed into the door, opening it, and heading straight to the table to pull the Crumbl cookies out of my bag and setting them next to the water cooler and Keurig machine. I always brought sweets. It kept the cravings away.
"No worries Leena, we've just been chatting with the new guy." I turned around to see Abel, my veteran, who was gesturing to someone I didn't know.
I went around the circle of chairs, counting off my regular faces, some newer than others.
Abel, Rodger, Syd, Seth, Ali, Jackson, Mark, and Jillian.
However, sitting between Abel and Jillian was a newcomer, who currently had his back turned, slumped forward in his chair. Brown hair, longer than the hat he wore, black sweatshirt and dark blue jeans. Black sneakers. Hood up. Guarded, uncomfortable. What little of his hands I could see kneading together, they were completely tattooed. Even at Abel's mention of him, he didn't turn to face me.
"Oh! Well good! Great job guys. We can go ahead and get started." I grabbed my clipboard off the table, and rounded the group and took my normal spot next to Syd. By the way her hair was pulled back and her face looked dry and sullen, I could tell we had some things to talk about today.
"Well, my new folks don't typically like to talk first on their first day, but just know, that you being here is only the beginning. And we are all here to welcome you to our group. Right, guys?" I directed my statement toward the stranger, who I now can see more clearly. His face is pale, with the exception of the dark circles rested comfortably above his cheekbones. If I were to take a guess, those had been there a while.
The rest of my group nodded, with several of them giving a quick 'That's right.' and 'Welcome in.'
"I'm Leena, the group coordinator. I can answer any questions you may have?" The stranger just peered at me with dark eyes and shook his head. "Okay, we can jump right in, then."
I could feel Syd next to me bursting to talk, so I looked to her.
"Syd, do you want to get us started today?" She only nodded, wiping some stray tears forming on her cheeks.
Syd was such a beautiful girl. Only 21 years old, it was amazing that she found the strength to come to us so young, and work on turning her life around. Her neon blue hair was knotted on top of her head, and she was picking feverishly at her sleeve of her sweater. I could feel what was coming. I always could.
"I...I fell off the wagon." I only nodded, knowing. She had missed three meetings, and unless someone forewarned me about vacations or work obligations, it almost always meant they were on a bender of some kind.
"Okay," As her tears began pouring, I reached over and ran a hand up her arm. There was a reason I sat Syd right next to me. She had been one of my newest, and biggest challenges. Overcoming the demons was an every day, every moment, every second battle that she was still very much fighting. "It's alright honey. We're all here to support you. No one is judging."
She went on to explain she had began with a mimosa at brunch with her friends, who didn't know she was in recovery. She didn't want them to know, so she tried to just sip. It didn't work. It never does. The one drink lead to a blackout weekend and three days in jail for public intoxication. She lost the job she had just gotten at the local DMV. Syd was going through it. She would need Seth, her sponsor, more than usual right now. He was on the other side of her, clutching her hand as she cried.
Once Syd had finished her confession, and emotionally put her 30-day coin back in the jar, we moved on to Seth.
One by one, through the circle, we heard everyone's stories of recent achievements and sorrows. Challenges and victories. Their ongoing battles. Once Jillian finished telling us about her recent trip to Vegas with her friends, where she managed not to have a single drink. We applauded her, because we all knew how much restraint that took.
I would steal occasional glances at our guest, whose eyes would also glance back at me once in a while, but mostly followed the speakers, never moving in his chair, stoic as cement. This isn't uncommon for people coming here for the first time. It's not easy to do, and it's wildly uncomfortable at first.
However, the circle was now all looking at him, and a look of almost panic flashed across his face.
"Is it on me?" His voice was deeper than I expected, with a clear rasp to it that told me all I needed to know about his history. He belonged here, and we were glad to have him.
I nodded. "How much you tell us is entirely up to you, but all I ask is you at least tell us your name, and why you're here."
He bit his bottom lip, eyes cast at me from across the room, looking up through long, dark eyelashes. "I have to say it out loud?"
"That's one of the first steps." I kept a soft smile on my face. Being warm, and understanding was my entire job here.
Abel's elbow nudged the stranger, who glanced at him, encouraging him. "No worries man, we've all been here."
A hard sigh left his throat, ending with a sharp cough.
"My name is Noah. And I'm an alcoholic."
****
Once the meeting had ended, I was stacking chairs back against the wall, prepping the room for the next meeting, NA. They had their own setup, and would be in here in about 30 minutes. Most everyone had left, with the exception of Abel, Syd, and Noah. Our newest AA member had been pretty tight-lipped about himself, only admitted to being 27 years old, and in the entertainment industry. He didn't elaborate further. That was just fine. If he kept coming, we would encourage him further, but AA was all about getting you through it at your pace. As long as you didn't drink, I was happy.
I was putting away the leftover cookies, planning to take the last couple with me to work tomorrow for a snack. I happened to catch a glimpse of someone leaving the restroom, and I noticed it was Noah. Everyone else had left only a couple minutes ago.
"Oh, hey!" I waved at him to come over. He paced his tall frame over to me, towering over me easily. He had at least a foot of height on me, which was hilarious, given I was a year older and 3 years sober myself.
"Hey, thanks for having me today. I didn't know if you could just come to these things." I slung my bag over my shoulder, smiling at him.
"C'mon, I wanted to chat with you before you left." We made our way out of the building as Angie, the NA organizer walked in past us, smiling at us both.
We reached the parking lot, my green Tahoe and the same black SUV being some of the only vehicles left. It dawned on me that he drove the SUV. Well, he may need a driving lesson, but he seemed nice enough.
I turned to face him before heading for my car. "Have you talked to anyone about being a sponsor? The only requirements I have is that they have been sober at least 6 months. Almost everyone in our group is, with the exception of Syd and Jackson." I could see him chewing his lip, his fingers fiddling with his keys.
"No, I...I didn't think about it." His eyes were looking everywhere but at me.
"Noah?" I asked, trying to get his attention. "Do you know what a sponsor is?"
This drew a short, burst of a chuckle out of him, his lips curling in a sheepish grin while he shook his head. I saw his frame relax for just a second, his arm reaching to scratch the back of his neck.
"I don't." I nodded, chuckling myself.
"No worries! I didn't when I started either." I waved him over to the bench perched just outside the building. He followed me and we sat. "A sponsor is someone to keep you straight. Someone who will keep your head on when you feel like you might fall off." He was listening, eyes fixed on me. "This is the person you call when you want a drink. They'll talk you down, distract you. Support you." He nodded, understanding crossing his features.
"Do they have to be a member of the group?"
"No, not necessarily, but they do need to be sober. A sponsor is no good if they are drinking and setting bad examples."
"Makes sense. I'll think on it." I stood up then, stretching up on my toes to flex my legs that had been sitting most the day. He stayed sat, now looking up at me.
"I do need you to have a sponsor by the next meeting on Thursday, though. Have to have one by your second session. And if you don't have one by then, we can get someone in the group to sponsor you, no problem."
He raised a brow at me, a smirk on his lips. "Didn't you say you only had one rule?" This threw me off. Smartass? It was innocent, I could tell, but a joker. Hadn't had one of those in a while.
I laughed it off. "Well, I only do for your first day. There are only a few rules to AA, but they're pretty much common sense."
He stood then, towering me once again. "Can you tell me anyway? I don't want to fuck this up." We then began walking back towards the cars. When I walked toward mine, he followed. It was dark already, so I didn't mind. This was LA, after all.
"Well, the first is obvious, no drinking." I popped my driver door open and flung my bag in toward the passenger's side. He nodded at me and leaned against the rear door of my truck.
"Second, no coming in drunk. As obvious as that may seem, you would not believe how many people I've kicked out of the meeting for showing up mid-bender." He raised his eyebrows. "As much as I'd like to keep and eye on them, it's not good for the other members."
"No, for sure." His tone was even.
"And lastly," I then looked straight at him, so he knew how serious I was. "don't ever lie to me." I could see him straighten just a little, feeling the seriousness of what I was saying. "If you fell off, admit it. I'm not judging. I did, so many times. But if you lie, you're out." I then took a step closer, if only to make my point, "Because I always find out."
He kicked off from my truck, his body less than six inches from mine. He looked down at me, the ghost of a smile playing on his lips.
"Yes ma'am." I felt a twinge up the back of my spine. It was a little warm all of a sudden, and my mouth was dry. I stepped back, and was able to regain my brain.
I smiled brightly at him and swung myself up into my truck. Before I slid my legs in, I looked at him, now almost at eye-level.
"Great! I'll see you Thursday, then!"
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i got an ask about advice for writing when you're discouraged, so i thought i'd make a post addressing some of the points because i think this is something that everyone has gone through and can relate to. most of this is just what's helped me/what i'd tell myself in the past, but if anyone has advice to add on please feel free! i hope this helps at least a little bit, anon!
"I’m not good at (dialogue/atmosphere/prose/etc)."
write it anyways! one of the best ways to build a skill is to keep doing it. even if you don't ever post it, or only share it with a few friends, or just read it to your pets, or whatever you choose to do, it's better to write something "badly" than to not write at all.
or even asking for help on how to improve from other writers. i struggle a lot with atmosphere and scenery, and something that helped me a lot was talking to other writers whose fics i really enjoy and inspire me. i know it may seem intimidating, but there are plenty of writers on tumblr that would love to talk about how they compose their scenes, their dialogue, anything and everything if someone asks.
"I can’t make moodboards/headers/aesthetic posts."
the good news is, you don't have to! fics don't have to have anything other than the fic itself. i can't speak for everyone, but while aesthetics may get my attention, it's the person behind the blog that i stay for. if you want your blog or your fics to have a pretty aesthetic, it shouldn't be because you feel forced to but because you want to do it. if you don't find making moodboards or headers or aesthetic posts fun, then you don't have to do them. and if you want to, but don't know how, there are a ton of resources, links, and blogs dedicated to helping on tumblr.
"I’m not at (insert someone else)’s writing level."
and you might never be, and that's okay! every writer is different - they have different styles, write at different paces, perceive their skill differently. basing your progress on someone else's isn't going to help because you're not them. you have your own time, energy, ability, and ideas, you'll grow and improve at your own pace, just like they did. don't force yourself to try and follow the same timeline of someone else, and don't put yourself down because you're getting better - and you are getting better - at your own pace.
"I can’t find the motivation to write."
honestly same. i think it's a pretty universal experience to lose motivation for something you were excited about at one point. sometimes the vibes aren't it and the story doesn't want to story, but that's alright. it can be hard to stay motivated, and what gets someone inspired again is different everyone. i can't give advice for anything outside of what's helped me, but a few ways i've re-motivated myself to write something are: making a fic playlist, stepping away from the fic for a day or two, giving it to a friend to read, re-watching/reading the source material, doodling fic ideas, and skipping to a different part of the story.
"I can’t write fast enough."
unless it's for something like work where you have a fixed deadline, there is no "fast enough" in writing. don't let anyone tell you otherwise. when i first started writing, in the very early days of ao3 and tumblr, fic updates could takes months or even more than a year and that was fine! one of my favorite fics took a six year hiatus, and that didn't diminish any of the enjoyment i had when it came back. you are not a machine, you're a human being with needs outside of writing. it's always okay if you need to take a break, if there's a long wait between chapters, or if you want to stop a project altogether and come back to it six years later. if someone gives you grief because you can't write within their time-frame then they're not worth having as a reader - do not overwork yourself for the sake of finishing a fic.
"It’s hard to stick to one idea at a time."
then don't! write all the ideas. write every single one. working on a project and you have a drabble that you just keep thinking about? write it. you get a sudden idea for a one-shot in a different fandom? write it. woke up in the mood to start a new five-chapter fic? write it. you can start or stop writing about anything at any time. there is no rule that you have to stick to one idea and finish it before you can write anything else, don't make yourself stick to something if it's not what you want to write, and don't punish yourself if you need to take a break from your current project.
"Maybe I’m not made for writing on tumblr."
tumblr is a shitposting website that barely works at the best of times. half of my drafts get deleted every other week for no reason - there is no way to be "made for writing on tumblr"! but tumblr is huge, there's a bajillion communities on here that would be so excited to have another writer, and a ton that are solely dedicated to helping writers and providing different resources. i guarantee there is someone on this website that will love and adore your writing.
"The things I read are better than anything I can write/comparing myself to other writers."
i don't have the cake picture saved, but we all know the gist of it: the audience (generally) isn't going to care about how decorated your cake is compared to another, they're just happy to get two cakes. and that's really all it is. your fic might not be the same preferred flavor as the audience of other writers, but there is someone out there who's going to enjoy it. i won't tell you to just not compare yourself to others, i know that's not how it works, but what has helped me is changing the way i view other fics. instead of thinking "i wish i could write like this person", i look at like "this inspires me to improve my writing". and don't get me wrong, i still have moments of doubt about my writing compared to some of the people i read, i don't think that will ever really stop, but the best thing you can do is not let yourself give in to that feeling. try and stop that train of thought before it leaves the station.
no one else can write the way you can. no one else can tell your stories the way you can. no one else has the same voice as you do. if everyone wrote the same way, everything would be boring. the heart of a fic is seeing the author's personality shine through it. if you see someone write a good fic, that doesn't mean yours won't be. you have to give yourself a chance even when you feel like your writing won't be as good as someone else's. you have to bake your cake anyway.
"How do I find joy in something I know I’ll never be good at?"
you won't. full stop. if you keep telling yourself you'll never be good at something, you'll never improve, there's no point in trying, then you'll never enjoy it. i know it's easier said than done, but you have to have some level of confidence in yourself and in your writing. not only will you not enjoy it, other people will see the lack of enjoyment, the "i wrote this and it sucks" comments, the self-degradation, and they won't enjoy it either - no one feels good about a fic the author clearly didn't want to write.
and, if you try everything you possibly can and still can't find any joy in writing, then maybe writing isn't the hobby for you. and that's perfectly okay! i tried quilting and glassblowing several times before i realized i just didn't like it the same way i liked writing. you owe it to yourself to find something that's fun, that makes you smile, that you're excited to do. there's a million hobbies out there, i promise you'll find something that brings you joy.
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Can you tell me about your Sherlock Holmes interest? You blogging about it has intrigued me!! Do you have a favourite adaptation you'd recommend? What do you love about the dynamic? I'm very interested to hear your thoughts!
(totally all good if you don't feel like answering, no stress 🩵 your posts just made me super interested but I wouldn't know where to start with engaging in such a huge volume of media)
Ohhhhhh what an ask to wake up to. I hope you know what you've done. You've just given me permission to unleash my full insanity on you. (I love you I love you I love you I lo- bless you)
I'm gonna be so honest I didn't even know where to start until I decided to just tackle your questions one by one so HERE I GO
(Under the cut so everybody who doesn't care can just scroll right by <3)
“Tell me about your SH interest”
Alright, I'll just out and admit it, it all started with BBC Sherlock – I'm sure I'm not alone with this. I absolutely fell in love with this show, then got so thoroughly disappointed by the last season I thought okay, this can't be right. I refuse. So started to read the original ACD Holmes stories and feLL EVEN MORE IN LOVE. The next christmas my brother (bless him) got me this absolutely Stunning collection of (almost) all the Holmes stories:
And I dove headfirst into them. Couldn't get my nose out of them. Started teaching myself to play the violin because Holmes plays it and I loved him so much, that's how obsessed I was.
For a while my irl best friend and I read the stories together, 1 or 2 per day, and we'd send each other voice messages discussing what happened and what we THOUGHT the solution was and then we'd read on to the end and discuss again and it was soooo fun. We stopped eventually and I read the rest by myself but those evenings are such fond memories for me I just had to include them here too <3
Okay but before this gets too personal, let's move on to the actual questions you asked!
“Do you have a favorite adaptation?”
DO I EVER.
OHHHHH DO I.
YES I DO.
I'm sure every adaptation out there is brilliant in one way or another but, for me, THE Sherlock Holmes will forever be Jeremy Brett in the 1984 Granada TV series. Unfortunately they had to recast his Watson, but fortunately both Watsons are WONDERFUL and no matter how many times I rewatch I can never decide who I love more. Both David Burke and Edward Harwicke are absolutely brilliant.
There are. Several things that set Granada Holmes apart from other adaptations, to me. Let me attempt to list a few of them without getting too carried away.
I have to start with Jeremy Brett because he's just so wonderful. Also, when I read the Holmes stories, the character my brain conjured looked almost exactly like Brett, even before I'd ever seen him. Perfect casting. I mean just look at this legend.
Also, the way he cared about this character – he came up with an entire backstory for Holmes, and it influenced his acting choices and there are some moment where it clearly shines through and it's so heartbreaking. There is a moment in one episode where Watson is talking about another character who was very lonely growing up (while giving Holmes a meaningful look), and Holmes doesn't get any direct verbal response to it but you can see on Jeremy's face that Holmes relates and it still hurts to think about, and YEAH IT HURTS ME TOO.
In the books, Holmes often goes days without eating when he's on a case, because food is a distraction to him – Well, during filming, when everbody else would go have lunch, Jeremy would often stay on set and study the scripts to perfect and refine every nuance of the way he played it. Once again, perfect Holmes.
Also, in Granada Holmes, Holmes is allowed to be silly. So often, Holmes is portrayed as this cold, loveless logic-machine, but that is not who he is!! In Granada, he gets to laugh and have fun and hum and twirl and jump over furniture and just. Be human. Watson brings out that side of him, and Brett portrays that so beautifully.
It was also extremely important to Brett that the TV show remain as faithful as possible to the books - and I've heard that, more than once, he made the writers change the script because he didn't agree with their take on Holmes. (And judging from the way he plays him: he was most likely correct.)
But you know what they changed? The ONE thing that's in the book that they very intentionally changed, that they very VERY purposefully left out? Watson's marriage.
In Granada Holmes, Watson never marries. He's always with Holmes.
Now, you could argue that they simply didn't want to bother with casting a Mary who would never show up anyway, or write it in there just to have it in there when they could be focussing on the fun cases instead. But. And this may be conjecture on my part, but nevertheless. Jeremy Brett was openly bisexual, so I don't think it's absurd to assume that when he read the books, he saw the same thing so many of us see. Which is that these two characters are in love. They weren't allowed to be, by the times they lived in, or even by their author (though there are theories around that which I will not get into now), but nevertheless, the love is very much there.
Another thing this adaptation does in regard to Watson (which I feel many others fail to do) is that it lets Watson be both Holmes' best friend and ALSO his equal. Of course, most of the time Holmes is doing the deducing and Watson is doing the watching and adoring and cheering on, but sometimes, every now and then, Watson gets to do some clever deducing and Holmes watches him and whenever that happens Brett's Holmes gets such heart-eyes it's unbearable to watch. (allow me to link to just this one example) So often in Holmes adaptations Watson gets belittled and made fun of and is under-appreciated, but in Granada, the opposite is true. Holmes states himself, more than once, that he needs Watson, that he would be lost without him, and Brett himself has emphasized this in interviews as well, said that Holmes would likely have died of an overdose years ago if he didn't have his Watson.
Watson loves and adores Holmes, but the same is true the other way around. And it comes through So Beautifully in this show.
Have this gif, just because I like it:
.... I have not managed to keep this short, have I. Sorry.
Shall we move on?
“What do you love about the dynamic?”
I think I already party answered this in the last paragraph about why I love Granada Holmes so much, but. Let me elaborate again. Why shouldn't I? You asked, and you shall receive answers, and I could talk about this all day anyway.
I love that Holmes is very clearly and loudly Different, and not always in an easily-digestible way, but Watson doesn't mind. Not one bit. In fact, he loves him for it.
Holmes can be rude at times, because he forgets about societal conventions – Watson reminds him to be polite, but always with gentleness and kindness and amusement even.
Holmes can be an obnoxious show-off. He loves to talk about how he collected his Clues and got to his Conclusion, he loves to be clever and to be the most intelligent person in the room, he loves to be admired and praised. And Watson loves to listen to him, and loves to praise him. I kid you not, there is a passage where Watson praises Holmes for his cleverness and Watson says. Actually, let me find the passage for you, I need you to see this.
“My companion flushed up with pleasure at my words, and the earnest way in which I uttered them. I had already observed that he was as sensitive to flattery on the score of his art as any girl could be of her beauty.”
Watson knows how much it means to Holmes to be appreciated, verbally, out loud. And he does it, again and again, because it makes them both so happy.
I love how good they are for each other. Holmes provides the adventure, the excitement of the cases, and Watson is his constant, he provides the stability, the calm, routine, he's the home Holmes can come back to after his wild escapades (on the rare occasion that he does go off alone).
I love how protective they are of each other. Most often we see Watson's side of this, there are so many instances where Holmes is threatened by another character, most often a suspect in a case, and the MOMENT they even LOOK at Holmes wrong, Watson will stand up and hover protectively, glare at them, step between them, put his hand on his revolver, or actively throw hands. In most instances, Holmes doesn't need his protection. He's perfectly capable of protecting himself. Still, even knowing that, Watson is more than willing to step between Holmes and whatever perceived danger presents itself, take the punch for him, and make the other party pay.
HOWEVER. There are a few moments, here and there throughout the books, where we see Holmes' side of this. Moments where he knows an investigation will be dangerous, and he apologizes to Watson for involving him in this. (Watson never minds at all). Sometimes he tells him that he understands if Watson would rather not stick around for (insert xyz dangerous thing). (Watson always stays). One time he actively argues with Watson that he has to leave because it is too dangerous and he can't have it on his conscience if something happens to Watson. (Watson does not leave).
In one case, he lets a murderer go free because the crime was done in revenge for a murdered loved one, and Holmes muses that he likely would have done the same, if someone he loved was killed. A few cases later Holmes tells someone that “if [they] had killed Watson, [they] would not have got out of this room alive.”
I love the TRUST between them. So often, Holmes jumps into actions that seem so insane and dangerous, and all Watson can do is follow him and trust that Holmes has a plan. And sometimes (I'm thinking of a specific case here that tore my heart out) Holmes' entire plan hinges on Watson's actions, and specifically Watson's love for him, but Holmes can't TELL him because Watson is a lousy actor, so Holmes just has to trust that Watson will do exactly what needs to be done.
“Don't forget, Watson. You won't fail me. You never did fail me.”
And, finally, not really a question but “I wouldn't know where to start.”
I think, personally, I would recommend starting with the first collection of short stories, which is “The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes”.
I found the novels a bit harder to get through because of the way they're structured, but that's down to personal preference I'm sure.
If you want to get a feel for the characters before you dive into the books, I can absolutely recommend simply watching the first few episodes of the Granada series. I believe they're all online? Yeah, I found them [here]!
Scandan in Bohemia was never my favorite case (for many reasons, most of which being the way every adaption seems to love to force a love story between Holmes and Irene Adler – thankfully Granada doesn't do this, but it's still simply not my favorite case), but episode 2 and 3, The Dancing Men and The Naval Treaty are two of my ABSOLUTE favorites in the whole series.
So go ahead and treat yourself!!
And if you decide to read the short stories, don't forget that most collections do not include “The Casebook of Sherlock Holmes” - but that one contains one of the most infamous moments in the entire series which fans just go absolutely insane over, so make sure to read that too.
And now I've accidentally written 3 A4 pages.
Whoops. I'm sorry. I hope this is what you wanted.
#PHEW OKAY#that was long#oh my god but i had so much fun writing all this#thank you bless you i am kissing you on the mouth for asking me about this because it made me so so so happy to get to talk about it!!!!!#<333#sherlock holmes#sh#granada holmes#asks
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Thanks for the tag @elsie-writes!
OC Interview
I thought doing this in a pair was fun last time, so let's do Astra and Mashal together :)
.
Are you named after anyone?
Astra: "Just the stars above, darlin'."
Mashal: "Not that I know of, but my memory of anything beyond waking up in Astra's vardo is a little fuzzy, so I guess I could've been."
When was the last time you cried?
Astra: "Gods a'mighty, I couldn't tell ya. Probably a few years back, at least. I don't know - I'd a' rather eaten bricks than cried in public when I was in Yewbury, so I guess I learned to hide my tears from everyone, includin' myself. That makes it sound sadder than it actually is, though. I just ain't the easily ruffled kind."
Mashal: "Uh-huh... Not easily ruffled. That definitely sounds like you."
Mashal: "I can't cry. Is that cheating? I guess I get kinda sad at night, when everything's so quiet and my thoughts seem so loud, but metal is metal, so there are no actual tears."
Do you have kids?
Astra: "Fuuuuck naw. Maybe someday, but I'm too busy travelin' right now."
Mashal: "...I- I don't think I do. I don't remember anything from my past, though. I'm probably in my mid-twenties. That's feasible. Oh gods..."
Astra: "Love, take a good look at yourself. You asked me how to make coffee the other day. Ya don't got no surprise amnesia kids."
Do you use sarcasm a lot?
Astra: "I try to, gods willin', but I'm afraid my insults tend to come out a lil' more direct than that."
Mashal: "It's an unbecoming habit, but sometimes I can't help myself."
What is the first thing you notice about people?
Astra: "Their clothes. You can tell a lot about a fellow from the cut a' his smock. Clothes tell ya how much money they've got, how much care they put into their image, what social groups they're a part of - all sorts a' tasty details. The shoes especially. Never trust a fellow in spotless work boots is what my momma always says."
Mashal: "Wait, what can you tell about me from my clothes?"
Astra: "I make all your clothes, love, it doesn't count."
Mashal: "Oh. Well, I suppose I... It sort of shames me to say this, but I try to check if they're a mage or not. I don't know why, but mages make me so nervous. You can usually tell a sorcerer by the hands, a book mage by the scars."
What is your eye color?
Astra: "Blue. Whoever my biological dad is musta been a pale fucker, cause it ain't everyday you see Shuari skin with bluebird peepers, even if I am a lot lighter than my momma. My right eye is a lil' grayer than the other, which might have somethin' to do with my vitiligo, but I ain't sure."
Mashal: "My ocular runes glow white."
Astra: "And a very perdy white too. Don't get yourself down just cause you got a different look from most folk."
Scary movies or happy endings?
Astra: "Scary! I wanna see blood, guts, horror!"
Mashal: "You say this, and then you make me go turn on the lights because you're too scared to sleep in the dark. I like happy endings. Horror always makes my skin crawl. Or, you know, it would if I had skin."
Any special talents?
Astra: "I'm the best damn witch a' the borderlands! Ain't nobody's runes equal to mine. Ain't no one makes finer machines. But other than that, I've got a mighty knack for embroidery."
Mashal: "I'm a decent artist. Nothing spectacular, and I'm only any good with a pencil, but I'm pretty good at sketching from life."
Astra: "And you can fight with a sword, don't forget that!"
Mashal: "And I can fight with a sword."
Where were you born?
Astra: "The stinkin' shithole known to the world as Nakaow. It's a debtor village in the borderlands. All the folk there have contracts owned by the local lord and have to farm 'is land till they pay what they owe. 'Course, they only end up further and further in debt everyday since he charges outrageous rent for sleepin' in 'is buildings."
Mashal: "I don't know. I'm from the Republic province of Sulu'Oku, I'm pretty sure. I have a Sulu'Okan name and accent. I just don't remember any of it."
Do you have any pets?
Astra: "Why, yes I do! I found Mercher's Day on the streets a' Landanium, on, well, a mercher's day. He's a tubby beast of a calico cat who tends to think he's a tiger 'round anyone who ain't me. Or Mashal. He took to the fellow remarkably well when he decided to stay with me."
Mashal: "I have a hazy impression that I did once. ...Or maybe I didn't. I'm not sure. I'm happy to share Mercher with Astra."
What sort of sports do you play?
Astra: "If I got time to toss a ball around, I got time to read up on magic. And one a' those things is a mite more important to me."
Mashal: "Without physical exertion, sports don't feel as exciting for me. I also can't really improve steel and pistons through exercise, so, there's that too. I work through my sword forms from time to time, if that counts. I'd be afraid to play any team sport in case I accidentally hurt someone."
Astra: "Love, I'd pay honest money to see you huck somebody across the ring in a game of Jetj, and I'm sure other people would too."
Mashal: "Maybe once we're in Unity. There are robots there. Who knows, they might have their own sports I can learn? I'd really like that, I think."
How tall are you?
Mashal: "Ugh, six foot ten. I did not ask to be built this way. Astra said she'd be able to rebuild me to be shorter someday, but we really don't have time right now. I think about five foot nine would be a good height. I'm tired of banging my head on everything"
Astra: "Five foot fuckin' nothin'. That's what happens when you're malnourished all your damn childhood. Do you know how ridiculous I look standin' next to Mashal? Shit's tragic. I'll retrofit him if he wants, yeah, but half a' that'll be for my own peace a' mind."
What was your favorite subject in school?
Astra: "I never went to school proper, but the best lecture I ever snuck into was Applied Gravitation Runes. Now, that might not sound too excitin', but ya gotta understand that a gravitation rune is the base a' anythin' runic-mechanical you could dream a' makin'. That class really opened my eyes to how those runes could be used."
Mashal: "I'm sorry, that sounds... really boring."
Astra: "Hush, you're more'n half gravitation runes yourself."
Mashal: "Huh. Well then. Uh, I guess my favorite subject would've been art. I don't remember school, but I like art now, so I probably liked it then."
What is your dream job?
Astra: "You're lookin' at it! I'm an independent witch, not bound to some stodgy university or grant board. I walk where'n I please and run the tests I wanna run. I will admit, it'd be nice if I could get government contracts, but I'll take me freedom over them any day."
Mashal: "I... really don't know. I guess just anything where I can help people. I could be a knight, protecting travelers. I could do what Astra does and help people with magical terrors they don't understand. The specifics don't matter, just the result."
Astra: "Gods a'mighty, you're so noble..."
Mashal: "Is- is that a bad thing? Why are you making that face?"
Astra: "Ya talk so sweet, you're makin' my teeth hurt is all. It's a good thing, love. You're a good man."
.
I'll tag @roach-pizza @rkmoon @goldencomet69 @bard-coded @moonandris and anyone else who wants to play :)
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THOUGHTS WHILE WATCHING GILMORE GIRLS: SEASON 3, EPISODE 2: HAUNTED LEG (PART 2)
Both Emily and Lorelai are planning to attend Rory's "Swearing In" for her Vice Presidency at Chilton So, this is a very similar scenario to the one that happened 4 episodes back in "Lorelai's Graduation Day". Yes ma'am, it's another "Lorelai is unhappy about having to be at a place where her mother will also be but Rory wants them both there" situation. Yeehaw.
Shhh. Nobody tell her.
This is such a great line, and I don't fancy myself much of a Quote Lover, but I love this one so much I want to make it a magnet and stick it on my fridge next to my "Why did you drop out of Yale" magnet.
Nothing of great consequence or interest happens at the ceremony. Rory and Paris give mediocre speeches. Things between Lor and Emily are still chilly. Emily wants to meet Lorelai for lunch at Luke’s the next day. I see Francie up on stage and remember, tis the season for an incredibly boring storyline involving mean-girl nonsense and school politics 🥱 Francie is the Jason of S3.
I plan to forward past a lot of that sillyness and save myself some time.
Rory tells Paris after the first student body meeting that she wasted everyone’s time and nothing was accomplished and nobody ate the doughnuts that were provided. Paris is incredibly turned on and asks Rory if she wants to get married.
Just more Jess erasure...
Alright, alright! This was Sookie's directive (supposedly) and it was said in jest. And here I was about to cancel Lorelai again for banning Jess from her stupid inn filled with mice.
I've canceled her more times than an unwanted subscription to Dean Forrester Monthly magazine.
Not me going "what is this stupid obscure reference that nobody will understand", then googling it only to find out it's from The Godfather, the award winning book and movie series that half the population alive has seen but not me.
I don't watch movies, okay?
Yes Ma'am!
I hate this stupid bullshit. Blew past the entire scene.
That's more like it.
Luke: Kirk came to me for advice about whether or not he had a shot with you. I told him you liked movies and junk food and talking incessantly but we both agreed that there's nothing like some good lovin to shut someone up."
So then you agree, the only thing that would get Lorelai to shut up is to fuck her? Take your own advice already, Sir, and do it already. You're killing us here.
Lorelai: Can you bring me a sharper fork? I'm not sure this one will go through your hand.
Ah, I see that like me, Lorelai is also a connoisseur of making jokes about injuring people with forks. We're not that different, you and I.
What the hell else is there to do for fun in Stars Hollow?
More Crusty nonsense. Followed by student council nonsense.
Well if that isn't the Non Privacy And Feelings Respecter Pot calling the Non Privacy And Feelings Respecter Kettle black.
At least Santa Claus visits his Children once a year, which is more than Christopher does.
Not me and @frazzledsoul discussing just yesterday how often answering machines were used as a plot device on tv in the 90's and early 00's. AmyShermanPalladino in particular is obsessed with the humble answering machine. Because social media didn't exist yet and the male characters must have some way to harrass the women when they're apart.
At least It's only Kirk this time so he probably meant well. Probably.
He's kinda a perv.
Lorelai: i hate my life. Maybe if we look into each other's eyes and say "I wish I were you" we could pull a Freaky Friday.
(Imagining I'm me, Salty, and NOT Rory, Freaky Friday'ing with Lorelai):
Let's see, let's see switching lives with Lorelai:
The whole "fucking Luke" thing is good
But then I'd also have to fuck Dean
And I'd have to fuck Crusty..
Max? (eh?)
Alex? (sure)
Have Emily as my mother...
Working at a dumb Inn...
Idk if having sex with Luke is worth all that.
Rory: "If we switched bodies, I'd have to date Kirk."
If you switched bodies, Lorelai would have to date Dean. I don't hear her complaining about that.
The real star of Gilmore Girls.
Oh no. Not the LOR.
*smashes that bottle of wine over Crusty's head*
45? FORTY FIVE? He tripled the record held by the previous contender. Dean better step his harrasment game up if he wants to surpass that number.
Crusty: "You don't get to dictate what to do! I called you (45 times) and you didn't respond so I did what I had to do. You can't shut me out, that's wrong! Your'e keeping Rory from me! Why hasn't she called me back?"
EXCUSE ME? EXCUSE MEEEE??
Oh my, the whiplash of seeing Rory stand up for herself and get into Crusty's face, only to have her head to Doose's in a few moments where Jess will give her the peg-lowering of a lifetime and she'll limp away defeated with her tail between her legs. I'll put that in my next chapter.
Things Googled While Watching Gilmore Girls:
Clemenza, I Take A Nap Gif, Now Kiss Gif, Spelling Of Connoisseur
Cutting Room Floor
A joke about how Jess won't be invited to any more Bracebridge Dinners since he's vegetarian and he's banned from the inn.
#please post this to my dashboard Tumblr please#it's a mess if you don't#I've been your loyal suscriber since 2010#do this for me#Gilmore GIrls#Denise Rewatches Gilmore Girls#Gilmore Girls Season 3#Haunted Leg#Rory Gilmore#Lorelai Gilmore#Luke Danes#Crusty nonsense#PariMore#Paris Geller
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20 - Simple Life Gone Wrong
Part 21
Battle of Mind and Heart
Tag list - ask to be added (in my ask box please) @aintinacage @hiraethrhapsody @mostlymarvelgirl @importantgalaxyrunaway
It was a stormy and rainy morning and the kids were still asleep since I wasn't making them do homeschooling on the weekends. Lying asleep in the bed Erik was sound asleep like normal when I sharply woke up feeling the urge to empty my stomach. Tossing the covers off of me I crossed the wooden floor like it was on lava until I got myself bent over the toilet. “Addi?”
“Ugh…where are they? Ah yes.” I heard Erik’s voice from the bed but I just kept throwing up until I felt that I was better. Remaining on my knees I opened the cabinet rummaging around until I found one of the pregnancy tests that I had bought from the store.
Footsteps creaked against the floorboards till he finally could see my current state. “Addison, here. I…I am here now.” He moved around grabbing a hold of my hair gently right as I went to puke a second time.
“Ugh…so gross.” I wiped my mouth with one of the towels shifting my body around so I could sit on the floor holding the pregnancy test I just took in my hands.
Erik shifted to sit down across from me pulling his legs up to his chest so I could have more room for my legs. “So what does it say, Addison?”
“We're…We're gonna have another baby.” I began crying a little at the thought picturing the excitement on the twins faces when we got around to telling them the good news.
Erik paused like he had the first time I told him I was pregnant with the twins but this time his pause was much shorter. “I love you.” He whispered, connecting our lips in for a kiss and I smiled into it.
“I love you too.” I whispered laying my head against his chest and he wrapped his arms around my waist.
Erik just held me for a little while until he thought it had been long enough. “Let’s get you back to bed, Addi.” He lifted me up into his arms carrying me back to bed and he laid back down with me.
“So what do you want this time. Boy or girl?” I asked him looping my fingers with his while we were laying down and just staring at one another longingly. This wasn’t a rare thing for us to just lay in silence and watch the other too afraid they might disappear in an instant after the time we were forced to be separated by the Pentagon.
Erik kept his focus on my eyes. “It doesn’t matter to me. We already have one of each. So I'd say girl to make it even for both of us.”
“Oh are you and Ryder feeling like you need another woman in your lives?” I teased him imagining another baby girl hanging off his shoulders during piggyback, playing hide and seek during thunderstorms or him just listening to the random rambles from the child’s mouth.
Erik shakes his head leaning forward, capturing his lips with mine. “I just want you to be happy because for a long time I didn't think I could ever be, until I met you.”
“And nobody is going to tear us apart ever again.” I declared laying my head back down in the crook of his neck.
By the time I had ended my conscious conversation with Charles I entered our bedroom seeing my husband shoving different drawers and grabbing whatever he thought we would need. Which could only mean one thing, he was preparing to run again. Stepping into the room I touched his forearm the second he spun around facing me. “Erik, woah hang on. We don't have to run now.”
“Yes we do, Addi.” He attempted to move past me but I pushed a hand on his chest.
“Tell me what happened.” I urged him.
He moved his gaze down to mine showing my other hand was intertwined with his larger one. “If I'm exposed we're all exposed, Addison. I…part of a machine nearly killed a man today. But I stopped it. I heard some of the other workers talking and I know that can't mean good things. Most people already know my name on the news.”
“Hey, look at me. You did a good thing saving his life.” Moving my other hand off his chest and up to his face, he leans into my palm. “We don't have to run. We…this is our kids now, our future baby's home.”
Erik cradled my face in his hands. “We are their home. We will be this little ones home.” His gaze shifted down to my now somewhat visible stomach but we hadn't told the kids about it yet.
Leaning forward I kissed him quickly, wrapping my arms around his neck. He leans down into the kiss, moving one hand around my waist tugging me closer. “Where’s the kid” I asked him breaking the kiss with us both trying to catch our breaths.
“I told them to pack. They should be done by now though.” He answered my question with fear written over his face. We bolted up the stairs only to find their room empty with bags packed but neither twin was there.
Running to the backdoor the backyard was found to be the same. “They must be down by the creek. Astraea! Ryder!” I hollered and he did the same trucking through the thick forest of woods until we found a clearing and were met with a handful of policeman.
“Mommy, daddy. They won't let Ryder go.” Astraea came running forward out from behind one of the trees near us.
The words slipped my mouth when she locked her arms around the middle of my stomach in fear. “Are you alright?”
“She's fine as is your boy.” One of the officers said.
I snapped at the officer. “Then let him go!”
“We will. We just wanted to have a word.” The lead officer answered, still holding Ryder's shoulder firmly underneath his hand.
Erik tilted his head noticing something that I hadn't until he said the words. “You're not wearing your badges.”
“No metal. Some guys at the factory said they saw something today. Something that didn't add up.” Another policeman answered.
I begged the men in uniform. “Put your weapon away.”
“You've been a good citizen, Henryk...A good neighbor... a good worker. I want to believe that's who you are.” The lead officer focused his attention on my husband.
“It is.” I bared my teeth looking down at my daughter in my arms. Her fingers were gripping my hand while she now stood at my side, my other hand was resting on my stomach.
The fourth officer scoffed. “But nobody in this town really knows you.”
“Yes you do. I am Henryk Gurzsky. Jakob, I've had dinner in your home…” Erik attempted to remain calm seeing one of his workers who reported him in standing there too.
“And you were lying the whole time. I brought a killer into my house.” The man growled.
Ryder tried to move from the top policeman’s grasp when he drew out a printed picture of Erik the day he tried to kill the president until Raven stopped him. “Is this you? Are you the one they call Magneto?”
“Take me in. Please...Just let my son go.” Erik paused sparing me a glance silent as an apology. Ryder bolted forward when the officer let him run straight to his father where they embraced in a quick hug. “Go with your mother and sister.”
Walking forward I grasped my son's hand separating the two with two officers holding Erik causing our son to begin wining. “Please...Don't leave me. I'm not going to let them take you.”
“What's going on?” Lifting my head I felt the ground under my feet shaking and everything felt like it was beginning to slow down.
“She's one of them?” A policeman pointed his finger back at Astraea who had her hand raised forward causing some of the men to hold their heads in pain.
Ryder squeezed my hand and I saw his fingers glow before he shot a blast towards them and the other two ducked in fear. “Tell them to stop!”
“They can't control it! He's scared of you!” Erik responded with the last two still holding him in place.
“We're not going to let them take you!” The twins decided to meet up to stand right beside each other about to blast them a second time until I heard an officer draw an arrow and he accidentally fired it from his bow.
I bolted picking up my boots tackling the pair into the dirt. “Astraea! Ryder! - ah!” I screamed in pain feeling the arrow hit me in my lower stomach.
“Addison!” Erik cried out bolting in my direction with the other officers trying to run but they couldn't because our daughter was keeping them blocked in. He caught my body when I had yanked the arrow out where my legs collapsed to the harsh ground. “No…no please Addi.”
Gripping the fabric of his flannel jacket I gasped feeling some blood slowly coming from my stomach. “Erik…Kids.”
“Mommy.” Astraea hollered coming over to us.
Ryder pressed his hand on my stomach where I winced seeing some more blood coming out. “Ryder, what are you doing?” He sent me a simple smile before our eyes the wound on my belly disappeared and there was just a simple scar.
“He can heal.” Astraea gasped in shock.
Erik held me against his chest glancing between the three of us. “Kids, go back to the house and wait there until we get there. Do you understand?”
“Yes.” The twins answered before running off together in the direction of the house.
Peaking over my husband’s shoulder I winced trying to get to my feet until I felt something falling between my legs. Looking down I gasped seeing blood even though the wound was healed. “Erik…the baby.”
“Addi…but he healed you.” Erik placed a hand on my forearm seeing the tears forming in my eyes.
The head officer takes a step forward to apologize. “Mrs. Gurzsky, I'm sorry.”
“Erik, I….do it. Do it!” I started crying, more tears reaching inside my shirt. Drawing the metal coin necklace that I wore shoving it down into his open palm. “Make them pay.”
He didn't need to be told anything more. He closed his eyes, opening the palm launching the coin slicing the necks of the throats of the policemans with their bodies dropping. “There's one more thing we need to do before we get out of here. Let's get you better first.” He scooped me up in his arms making our way back to the house.
“Mommy, Daddy, There something I need to tell you.” Ryder came running around the corner when we had made our way back into the small cabin.
Erik sat me down on my feet so I could lower myself to be his level I asked concerned. “What is it you need to tell us, Ryder?”
“The baby…they would have been a mutant like me and sissy.” The young Lehnsherr boy reply.
Glancing over to his father Erik’s features switched over to a much darker look. He helped me to my feet pulling me closer when he whispered under his breath. “Let’s go make those men at the factory pay too. Then we will take the kids to Charles place.” I nodded in agreement grasping his hands in mine. Knowing we deserved revenge.
#battle of heart and mind#erik lehnsherr fic#erik lehnsherr x reader#erik lenhsherr x reader#erik lehnsherr#erik lensherr x reader#charles xavier#michael fassbender#comments really appreciated#wattpad fanfiction#ask box is open for feedback#jenny boyd#james mcavoy#x men apocalypse#x men oc#x men movies#x men x reader#x men raven#oc : addison shaw#erik lensherr#magneto x oc#magneto#x men fandom#x men fanfic#x men fanfiction#x men fic#erik lehnsherr x oc#erik lensherr x oc#professor x#jennifer lawrence
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There was once a map said to lead to a legendary tyrant's remains. The tyrant had disappeared in the middle of his rule, so knowledge of where he'd gone had been of prime importance.
The idea that he was dead and rotting somewhere had been downright blasphemous at first- the propaganda machine made sure everyone knew that the tyrant couldn't possibly be dead. As weeks turned into months turned into years, though, it became pretty clear that if the tyrant was still alive, he would have come back to his throne ages ago.
Thus, the map. A man named Xavier, who'd lived in the neighboring kingdom as long as anyone had known him, claimed he'd found it while out searching for materials with which to make his automatons, and he'd offered to take anyone willing to the spot in the woods where he'd found it.
While those first few years found him without any takers, eventually he was met at the local pub by a collection of officers who'd once served under the tyrant. They got to talking, and Xavier learned that they intended to bring the tyrant back to life through death magic. Only if necessary, of course; the officer who'd told him this seemed downright shaken even mentioning the possibility of the tyrant's death.
Well, Xavier had been telling people about his willingness to get anyone who wanted to started on their journey to find the tyrant's remains, and he wasn't planning on going back on his word.
Xavier dutifully led the officers into the woods in grim silence.
As they approached the place he would let them go, Xavier struck up one last conversation.
"You know, I've always liked the name Xavier," said Xavier.
"I should hope so," said the highest-ranking officer. "You were born with the name, after all."
Xavier shook his head as one side of the trail sank and the other side began rising, leading into a picturesque cliff face. "Not quite. I picked the name out myself, you see; my old name had become more of a hassle than it was worth."
That got a barking laugh from one of the other officers. "Oh, really? I can't possibly imagine someone choosing to take on a name from this backwater kingdom."
"No need to imagine it, sir," said Xavier. "It's exactly what happened. A real shame, too; I'd quite liked the name I'd chosen before Xavier, just as much as I like Xavier itself."
"Do you regularly go through names as though they are nothing more than fleeting notions?" asked the third officer, suspicion tinting his tone.
Xavier waved him off with a congenial chuckle. "Oh, no, no. I'd only ever intended to change my name once; changing it again to Xavier was a bit of a surprise, but we can't always choose the ways our lives pan out."
"If we may ask," began the first officer in a tone that left no room for argument, "what exactly were your previous names?"
"Well, my first name is one I shed as quickly as I was able, back when I was but a child," said Xavier, coming to a stop on the path. "I can't say I even remember it. My second name, however, I remember clearly."
The third officer scowled. "Why have we stopped? We can't possibly be there yet!"
"Oh, don't worry, we are," said Xavier. "My second name, though; you must promise not to judge me too harshly."
The second officer chuckled. "You willingly changed your name to Xavier. The previous one must have been bad."
That got a scowl out of Xavier, who let himself lean back against the rocky cliffs and run one hand over the nearby stones. "On the contrary. My previous name is one I chose to honor my father, who was taken away to work in the mines one day and never came home. My name was Mark."
Immediately, the three officers grew tense; "Mark" was a name only ever given to men in the tyrant's country, so for this alleged foreigner to have once had that name-!
-but by the time they had figured this out, Xavier had pressed one of the stones deeper into the rocky wall.
With the clanking of gears and metal, the section of trail that the three officers stood upon flipped up on one side, and the three of them tumbled down the newly-created slope with screams that rose up even long after they were out of sight.
Xavier released the stone, and the mechanical platform sank back into place as if it had never moved.
Before he began the walk back to the pub, Xavier took a deep breath and called down to the officers, "On the off chance any of you can still hear me, you are never getting your tyrant back! I will ensure it! One lifetime under him was more than enough!"
Because the tyrant was, after all, ex-Mark's despot.
#this punchline hit me last night and i needed to make it real aosjakxhajzhajaha#rosie writes#funny stuff#…hopefully lmao
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desperate housewives. season six, episode five.
it is in our nature to judge the people around us.
i think you're a lousy mother.
the monkey's killing the clown!
my laundry is clean, folded and put away.
look! open, closed. open, closed.
you shot me!
i'm a good mom, aren't i?
i understand why you're upset. i'd be on edge, too, if my marriage were having problems.
she asked me a question, i just answered it.
they can't keep a goldfish alive for more than one day. what makes you think they're gonna take better care of geraniums?
why isn't [name] helping you?
you're like a dog with a bone. let it go.
you think you can dangle that axe over my head?
let's have a nice father-son chat about how you're cheating on mom.
if it was no big deal, why didn't you just tell me?
things got a little heated the other day, and i think we both said some things we didn't mean.
it left her with this constant fear that everything could suddenly fall apart, and that's why she needs to control everything.
let him go. i can do the gig alone.
stay out of our lives, or you'll be sorry!
we don't need to use that spatula anymore.
if [name] would like to come to [name]'s birthday party, we'd love to have her.
when i first brought you here, you didn't want to set foot in this room.
you're kind of a wet blanket since you quit smoking.
he just went over my head to you.
you tried to kill me!
what were you doing sneaking around my house?
oh, don't blame me. i wasn't even in the room.
last month, we needed a sitter for [name], but you didn't want to miss oktoberfest.
we're gonna have face painting, and a cotton-candy machine, and a clown.
what did i tell you about sledding down the staircase?
[name] just shot [name]
i told you she was gonna snap. it's always the pretty ones.
a monkey almost killed a clown.
she grew up without her dad. her mom was a drinker. so, she had to be responsible for everyone.
we judge the way strangers dress.
i just fired you, so you can go home.
you're the one with dirty laundry.
sorry, but i'm not comfortable with that.
you'll never know what you've done for my sex life.
more cake for us. beat it.
i haven't been able to sleep.
you said you were seeing a guy. you think maybe he had something to do with it?
i thought you saw me.
just 'cause you like crunching his walnuts doesn't mean i do.
do you like pizza?
for example, if she were to ask me if we were having a bouncy house, i'd have to say, "just the biggest bouncy house you've ever seen!"
i knew i liked that guy the minute he walked in.
if you love me at all, you'll give me a match and an alibi.
you want to destroy her life?
i'm just saying, you shouldn't make snap judgments about people.
please, let me go.
this isn't about winning!
did i say one cross word to you?
i make plenty of decisions around here.
i won't look at you no more, okay?
stop it. stop loving me. i'm not worth it anymore.
i had a very irksome encounter myself today.
getting the picture isn't the problem. it's getting rid of it.
you're right, i'm sorry. this is cruel.
i'm so sorry i'm late.
oh, please, if i were gonna kill you, i wouldn't do it in my own front yard.
i know it wasn't you, [name].
you see i'm having an affair, and you just assume i'm a bad person.
i don't have time to argue.
why would people lie to get out of a kids party?
i'm not checked in, i came here to see you.
[name], when you've needed a favor from me, have i ever let you down?
i followed her home, and it turns out she does have a boyfriend. you.
i didn't tell you because i, crazy me, thought it might upset you.
i flipped her the bird the other day after she cut me off.
you know, if you'd taught your kid how to tuck and roll on impact, we wouldn't even be having this conversation!
since you're using a cell phone, you know what century it is.
it's not what i would've chosen, but it's growing on me.
you're just sneaking off here to do the nasty with your boyfriend.
your disdain was perfectly clear from the look you gave me.
well, what are we supposed to do?
if you have a moment, no rush. would you hang this birdhouse for me?
i think you should clear the air.
i was like you. i wanted fun, excitement.
yes, we make these judgements all the time, never thinking that one day we may be judged ourselves.
your gentleman friend stand you up?
let's talk about it.
why are you calling [name]?
and your point is?
well, if you two are so happy, then where did he just disappear to?
[name]? over there. that tree.
i feel guilty all the time.
if you knew more about my marriage, you'd see me very differently.
i don't have any weed, lady.
you won't let us play on the roof anymore.
if you finish your magazine, there's a bible in the nightstand.
i was so startled, i didn't know what to say. i just let it go.
honey, do that thing where you run into the wall.
i'm sorry. and for what it's worth, it's over.
why would you let them do that?
boy you're everywhere. we should get you a bell.
i know she's going through a rough time, but i have trouble feeling sorry for her.
i have a gun! i've called the police.
these two knuckleheads decided to sled down the staircase.
listen, i've been so worried about you.
we're not doing this anymore.
when did that happen?
you should have whipped out a copy of your best-selling cookbook.
you know nothing about him.
what do you want me to say? that cheating's not a sin when you do it in pearls?
...and i'm trying to make nice with you, as a fellow man, so i guess...
#rp meme#rp prompt#roleplay memes#roleplay prompt#ask meme#ask prompt#sentence starters#rp resources#mymemes.#*
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One more scene for this out-of-body fic idea. This one is (almost) directly following the one started here
It was decided that when it comes to Hank going to sleep, a phone with Connor will be left in the garage, right next to the washing machine set for the longest cycle of two and a half hours. Additionally Hank promised to leave a working fan to maintain the noise present once the washing machine finished its job.
That was the plan.
What it didn't account for was the fact that Hank would need to actually do the laundry and all the laundry-related tasks, and to his own regret, he decided that it was a great occasion to finally wash all the bedding - a chore consisting of (as he realised a little too late) the most tedious tasks. Tasks such as: unbuttoning and removing all the pillowcases, sheets, duvet cover and replacing them all with new ones by going through the miserable process of searching for the replacement bedding in a closet, fitting all the pillows into according pillowcases, buttoning them back on and the worst of it all – fitting the comforter into a new duvet cover. This was too much work. He could have simply loaded the washing machine with the content of laundry basket and call it a day. That's what he should have done. Now it was too late.
He lay down on a bare bed and stared at the ceiling as the pile of removed bedding frowned at him from the corner of his eye. He tried to pretend it wasn't there, ignore it, but he could still feel it taking up space -- both mental and physical -- even with his eyes closed. This knowledge alone filled him with the kind of dread only the tedious unfinished tasks could induce. Tasks like making an appointment at the doctor's office or cancelling a subscription he didn't remember having, reminded him of it only by a weekly junk-mail. Tasks that are easy to do, but much more tempting to just ignore. Let them pile up and rot.
"I forgot how much I fucking hate laundry," Hank grumbled, cutting through the silence of the last couple of minutes.
"I thought you hate doing the dishes," Connor said.
"I hate doing laundry and the dishes. But if I had to choose, I'd rather do the dishes."
"I'm sorry. I would help you if I could."
Something about sincerely apologetic tone of android's voice annoyed Hank and he scoffed.
"Sure you fucking would."
"Is something wrong?"
"No. Yes. It doesn't fucking matter."
Hank pressed his palms against his face and sighed.
"Fuck...This is embarrassing," he said and instantly winced from realisation of saying it out loud - something he didn't intend to do.
"Laundry?"
Hank huffed and applied more pressure to his palms, seeing colourful spots appearing at his fake vision of closed eyes.
"Yeah. Laundry."
"Is the process of laundry embarrassing in itself or is it-"
"-Connor. Just stop, okay?"
Connor got quiet, but only for a moment.
"You know, you don't have to do it today," he said.
"That's what I told myself yesterday. And...Shit, I don't even remember when was the last time I did it. And now I already took the sheets and covers out..."
"So you're already half way there, much closer than yesterday, right? You can do it tomorrow morning."
Hank didn't feel like arguing and insisting on doing something he already subconsciously decided not to do, so he agreed. He abruptly thought if android tried to use reverse-psychology on him to make him finish making the bed now, but if that was the case -- Hank thought -- he should have known better than to do it like this.
"Tomorrow it is, then. I'm not doing it."
He took his hands off his face and stared at the pile of removed bedding. The sight of it was nauseous. He turned to his side and looked at the phone laying on the other side of the bed instead.
"What about you? What are you doing exactly? I'm sure you're not only here talking to me."
"Correct. But I try to focus on my audio input the most, so what I'm doing on the background is not so important."
"You can still tell me about it," Hank turned to his back.
"You want me to talk about what I'm doing?"
"Couldn't be more clear than that."
Connor made a noise - something between a surprise and content.
"It's not much, there isn't enough computing power for me to use, so mostly I'm just surfing through text articles. For example, when you mentioned hating laundry, I tried to find something that might change your perspective on it. I found that there's a music album named 'Laundry Service' released on November 13, 2001 - the same day the President of the United States signed an executive order allowing military tribunals against foreigners suspected of terrorist acts as part of the war on terror following the September 11 attacks."
"Wow," Hank elongated the word and shook his head, "I must admit, it does indeed change my whole perspective on laundry."
He chuckled at his own joke reaching the phone to move it closer.
"Is it something you only do now or..," Hank started.
"No, I've been also doing it before."
"Ah, I get it. Can't be entertained by a conversation only. Can't blame ya. I'd probably do the same if I had a computer for a brain to do this kind of shit unnoticed."
"It's not about my level of entertainment and more about not being familiar with some of the cultural references I may encounter. I can't know it all, Hank."
"Right. I keep forgetting how little you've been around. Of course you'd search things up... didn't come out of the box with all this nonsense installed."
"Technically I've never been in a box."
"Yet."
"I'm not sure what's that supposed to mean. Is this a joke about coffin?"
Hank laughed.
"What? No. Actually, I don't know what I was thinking. Probably just imagined you in a big cardboard box or something."
"Why would I be in a cardboard box?"
"I don't know, why would you be in a coffin?"
"I don't know, you said my body looks like a corpse in your living room."
"Connor, fuck...Do me a favour and shut the fuck up!"
The awkward silence filled the room. Once again Hank got painfully aware of the pile of sheets, but this time it looked more like an excuse than anything else. He rose from the bed and grabbed the pile on his way to the door. He was halfway through the threshold when he got stopped by the sound of his name. He froze.
"I won't say anything. Please, don't leave me alone in silence."
Hank felt a heavy knot forming in his stomach. He swallowed and turned back around.
"Of course not. Wasn't going to."
He returned to the bed to pick up the phone, then walked to the garage, loaded the washing machine, closed the door, and stared at it blankly. It seemed like he had forgotten something, but the silence-induced noise was too loud in his ears to remember whatever it was. He started the washing machine, gave it another glance, and returned to the bedroom where he collapsed onto the bed. After a few moments he realised that he had returned with his phone in his hand. He was squeezing it tightly, still. It had been quiet the entire time, and for a moment, Hank wondered if he could accidentally turn it off without even noticing. The thought sent a surge of panic down his spine, and he swiped his finger to unlock the phone. The screen lit up with CyberLife program still up and running. Thank god. He let out a sigh of relief and sank into the matress, setting the phone aside.
"Connor?"
There was no response.
Hank burried his face deeper into the pillow. He felt sick. Without meaning to, he accidentally remembered what it was he had forgotten -- aside from leaving the phone in the garage with a fan, which had been a rather conscious decision-- washing detergent. He hadn't used it at all.
"Connor," he tried again.
After a few seconds phone buzzed in response.
"Listen, you can talk if you want."
The room remained silent.
Hank turned to his side and unlocked the phone. He wasn't sure why, probably just to see CyberLife screen again, to make sure it was still there. He looked at it for a few seconds, then locked the phone back.
"I'm sorry" was what he meant to say. What he wanted to say. What he said instead was "Say something, damn it!"
It came out wrong. Agressive. Not the way he intended it, again.
"Goodnight, Hank," Connor said.
It was something. Sharp and short. Hank let another sigh out - both from frustration and relief.
"Goodnight, Connor."
#dbh#dbh fanfiction#Fic ideas that I'll never write#I seriously should stop using it#but I haven't thought of another tag to replace it yet#fun fact: the end of this scene was supposed to be wholesome and I even had a snippet written already#but when I started to write what came before that moment they went off-script#I have little to no control of what they'll do or say#pocket ghost
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