#does this count as dramatic irony that is good?

[voices-not-echoes]

guys let’s talk about the fact that none of the starklings have consistent and complete information as to which of them are alive and which are dead and so we are watching them all lyannaify each other right now. all their memories of family are tinged with this air of “but they are dead or i will never see them again.” every one of them thinks that they are alone in this world. and they’ve all, in one way or another, taken up this burden of being The Last Stark. the only one who can ever pass on the memory of that family they loved so much. the only one who can ever go home, which is worse in bran and arya’s case because they don’t think they ever will. and yet!! they’re not alone!! their family is spread out all over the world and they’re in danger and they’re hurting but they’re alive. except for robb, they can all go home. and by the end, they will.

[focusonkayjay]

between the ride and the roses (5)

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: biker/ motorcycle shop owner! jungkook x flower shop owner! reader, enemies to lovers, opposites attract, slow burn, angst, smut, fluff

Series summary: There's an insane turn of events when your calm and peaceful life is intruded by Jungkook, a biker boy who sets up his loud business right next to your own. Your paths cross under unlikely circumstances, starting with a clash of personalities but gradually you find yourself establishing a deeper connection with the annoyingly attractive biker jerk. You both have no idea what's in store for you guys as you try your best to put up with each other.

Word count: 5.8k

Chapter Warnings: mature language, mentions of an injury, jungkook is drowning in the sea of denial, heavy angst, misunderstandings, disagreements

A/N: well, i don't have much to say about this chapter. however, i am making a taglist, so please let me know if you want to be added <3 thank u for making it this far into the series, stay tuned for more !!

part 5: gears and vines of tension

You absently twirl the ramen in your bowl, your chopsticks moving in slow, deliberate circles as a heavy sigh slips past your lips. The warm steam rises from the broth, but it does little to soothe the tight knot forming in your chest.

Just an hour ago, the townhall meeting about the town fair ended, and now you find yourself seated at a small booth in a Japanese restaurant just around the corner, surrounded by your friends who, as usual, are keenly aware of what's going on in your mind..

You try to focus on the food, the familiar scent of miso and soy sauce, but your mind keeps drifting back to one thought: Jungkook. The idea of working with him for the fair that is set to happen two months from now, has lodged itself in your brain, and you can’t shake it off. Of all the people in this town, it had to be him, the one person who managed to make your blood boil with nothing more than a glance.

It's almost amusingly comical, if it weren’t so frustrating. The universe, it seems, has a twisted sense of humor, and today, it has decided that you must work side-by-side with him, out of all people.

The sheer irony of it... the fact that you, someone who prides yourself on peace, order, and avoiding conflict at all costs, are now paired with Jungkook for something as important as the town fair. It gnaws at you.

You feel your grip on the chopsticks tighten, the wood digging into your palms as you try to concentrate on anything other than the growing sense of dread in the pit of your stomach. But no matter how hard you try, you can’t escape the reality that you’ll have to spend an extended period of time with him, and that thought alone is enough to make you want to scream.

From across the table, your friends are watching you with knowing glances, their eyes flickering back and forth between you and the others. They know exactly what’s going on in your mind, and judging by the subtle smirks on their faces, they’re enjoying this more than they probably should.

Taehyung leans forward, a grin spreading across his face as he watches you with a mischievous gleam in his eye. “Teaming up with Jungkook for the fair? Oh, this is gonna be good.” he teases, the amusement practically oozing from his words. His grin grows wider as he waits for your response, clearly relishing your discomfort.

Seokjin chimes in next, his voice dripping with playful sarcasm. “I never thought I’d see the day you’d have to cooperate with the infamous biker boy. What’s next? You two finally getting along?” His eyebrows rise dramatically as he leans back, laughing.

You slump further into your chair, your fingers still gripping the chopsticks so tightly that you feel like you might snap them in half. A tired sigh escapes your lips. “I highly doubt it.” you mutter under your breath, your frustration clear in your tone.

“It’s bad enough I’m stuck with him for the fair, but do I have to hear this from you guys too?” You look up at your friends, meeting their teasing eyes with a halfhearted glare, but it’s impossible to stay mad at them for long. They’re enjoying this too much, and you can’t help but feel like the punchline of some inside joke.

“Come on, Y/N...” Namjoon says, his voice soft and rational, like he’s trying to calm you down. “You two have history, right? Maybe this is a good chance to... I don’t know, put the past behind you??” he suggests.

You shake your head almost immediately, a quiet laugh escaping you. “It’s not that simple.” you reply quickly, the words tumbling out without thinking.

“We don’t get along, Joon. This isn’t some... rom-com where we magically start clicking after a few awkward encounters. This is real life. And in real life, I can’t just forget about everything that’s happened between us.” you pause, taking a deep breath.

“Sure, sure,” Juwon adds with a teasing smile, her tone a little too playful. “Just don’t kill him before the fair is over, okay?” She laughs, but there’s an edge of genuine curiosity in her voice. She's not sure whether you’re joking or not.

You roll your eyes, half-annoyed and half-amused. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” you reply dryly, your voice thick with sarcasm. But even as the words leave your mouth, you can feel your thoughts slipping into darker territory.

The teasing continues as your friends rally around you, throwing playful jabs and remarks that only seem to make things worse. It’s hard to stay angry at them when they genuinely believe there’s some kind of positive outcome buried somewhere in this mess.

They see the potential for you and Jungkook to patch things up, and while part of you knows they mean well, another part of you can’t shake the nagging feeling that this situation is just a train wreck waiting to happen.

You might not be as optimistic as they are, but they’re all so convinced something good could come out of this, and it makes your frustration feel even more intense.

//

Jungkook, on the other hand, feels just as conflicted, though he’d never admit it. The whole town fair situation is just another annoying obstacle in his otherwise meticulously curated routine.

He’s not keen on the idea of working with you, at all. In fact, the very thought gnaws at him, like a thorn embedded deep inside, constantly prodding at his sense of control.

He’s already juggling a whirlwind of emotions—feelings he doesn’t fully understand, confusions he’s too afraid to face. And if that wasn’t difficult enough already, now he has to stick by you and actually work with you. All those stolen glances, those subtle moments of help, the cold silences... it all amounts to this, and he has no idea how to deal with it.

Even though both of you haven’t fought in a while, the tension still hangs thick in the air when you're in the same vicinity. It’s so glaringly obvious, like a dark cloud that refuses to dissipate.

The truth is, Jungkook has grown to admire you from a distance, but that only makes the situation more complicated. His feelings for you are a constant ache in his chest, something he can’t quite untangle. And now, here he is, stuck with you in a situation that feels like the last thing he wants.

But no matter how much he wishes it weren’t true, when Mr. Kwon’s words echo in his mind, he knows there’s no escaping it. The town fair is something both of you will have to navigate together, whether you guys like it or not.

Still, that doesn’t mean his friends are going to let him off the hook so easily.

“Seems like you have no choice but to get along with Y/N, huh?” Yoongi’s voice is low, almost teasing, but Jungkook can hear the hidden challenge beneath the surface. It’s a comment that cuts deeper than he wants to admit.

Jungkook scowls, his fingers tightening around the soda can he’d just grabbed, the metal crinkling under his grip. “Shut up, hyung.” he mutters through clenched teeth, the words more defensive than he intended. "I don’t know how I’m going to do it, but we’re just going to work together, and that's it." he states, trying and failing to keep his voice neutral. The words taste like ash in his mouth.

“Yeah, sure.” Hoseok adds, leaning in with that familiar, mischievous grin of his. “Just working. The way you look at her says otherwise, though.” His tone is light, but it’s clear he’s enjoying Jungkook’s discomfort a little too much.

“Shut up.” Jungkook snaps, his irritation flaring. He can’t stand their constant teasing, the way they poke at something he’s not ready to face. It’s as though they can see right through him, and it makes him want to retreat even further into himself. And since, he’s been avoiding you... avoiding everything about you like it’s some kind of plague, having to confront it head-on seems impossible.

Jimin, however, is the one who really gets under his skin. “I’ve noticed all those lingering looks you give her. I get it... you’re still holding on to something. But come on, man. It’s been ages. Just face it and talk to her.”

“That’s none of your business.” Jungkook growls, his voice low and thick with frustration. His temper is a simmering volcano, and it doesn’t take much for it to erupt. He hates that they can see through him so easily, as if every thought, every feeling, is written on his face.

And worst of all, he doesn’t want to think about you. Not now, not ever. But there you are, constantly in the back of his mind, disrupting his every thought.

“Maybe this is your chance to… fix things.” Yoongi muses, his voice taking on an almost knowing tone, like he understands something Jungkook isn’t ready to admit to himself.

Jungkook remains silent, his fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles turn white. His jaw is set in a firm line, but inside, he feels a stirring unease. Fix things? With you? No, that’s not what he wants. Not at all.

But something about the space you’ve left in his life lately, the absence of your presence,,, it’s bothering him more than it should. It feels... wrong. And he can’t figure out why.

The emptiness in his chest is growing, and it’s eating away at him. He tries to ignore it, to shove it back down where it belongs, but the truth keeps creeping up on him and he’s not ready to face this. Not yet.

//

When the meetings finally start, you and Jungkook sit across from each other, a few feet apart, neither of you daring to breach the silence in the community center. The air between the two of you feels charged, thick with tension, like an invisible wall keeping you at arm's length.

Each glance, each shift of position, carries an unspoken weight, and even the faint sound of your breathing feels too loud. Every word spoken feels like an effort, a conscious choice to avoid snapping, but it’s almost impossible not to.

The first task at hand is the layout. You, the florist, are in charge of the decoration, but you know full well that it’s a collaborative effort, especially with Jungkook needing to ensure the space is functional. You’ve done this before, worked under pressure, but with him? It feels different. The stakes are higher, the frustration more palpable.

“So..." you start, forcing your voice to remain steady and calm, even as the anticipation lingers in your chest. “We need to figure out where the booths will be placed. The flower arrangements need to complement the flow of traffic, and we can’t block the stage view.” You turn to him, meeting his gaze for a brief moment before quickly averting your eyes, as though the intensity of the connection might shatter the thin facade you’ve managed to maintain.

Jungkook, however, seems unfazed. His eyes flicker briefly towards you, but it’s clear his attention is elsewhere. “Fine.” he mutters flatly, his voice devoid of any real emotion. He scrolls through his phone as if he’s in a different world entirely. “Tell me where to put the tents.” he says.

You feel a flicker of irritation at his nonchalant response, but you force yourself to stay composed. “It’s not that simple.” you reply, your voice sharper than intended. “You have to work with the dimensions. The booths need to be spaced properly to avoid crowding. Otherwise, the flow will be a mess.” you explain.

He hums in acknowledgment, but his focus never leaves the screen of his phone, his posture relaxed, almost too casual. He gives you nothing to go on, no acknowledgment that he’s actually listening, and yet, he doesn’t argue.

He’s making an effort, or so it seems, but the effort feels as half-hearted as his tone. You lay out the details of the booth placement, watching as his eyes dart back to his phone, the quick flicks of his thumb on the screen like a rhythm you’ve grown all too familiar with. It’s frustrating, to say the least.

Still, he doesn’t outright ignore you. That’s something, right? A small victory, perhaps, but not enough to quell the simmering unease that’s growing within you. He’s pretending not to care, pretending like this is just another mundane task in his life. And maybe, in his mind, it is. But in yours? It’s so much more than that.

//

The following days unfold in a similar pattern. The meetings don't happen every single day. Maybe just two to three times a week. Whenever you sit down to discuss, you both speak in clipped tones, each of you trying to push your own agenda without crossing the invisible line into conflict.

It’s a game of subtle manipulations, of measuring your words carefully so as not to give anything away. Jungkook does his best to remain distant, as if he’s above it all... his expressions impassive, his body language indifferent. It’s the perfect mask, and he wears it well, making it nearly impossible to gauge what he’s really thinking.

And yet, despite the stone-cold exterior, you can’t shake the feeling that there’s something more beneath the surface. You catch the fleeting glances he throws your way when he thinks you’re not looking, the slight tension in his shoulders when you speak, and the subtle shift in his tone when he responds.

He’s trying to remain uninterested, trying to pretend he doesn’t care. But the little cracks in his armor? They don't fully hide from you.

However, neither of you is willing to make the first move. The walls you’ve both built around yourselves remain as sturdy as ever. The resentment, though unspoken, hangs in the air, a silent presence that neither of you dares to address. The past still looms large between you, an unspoken history that neither of you is ready to confront.

And so, you continue to go through the motions, working side by side but never truly together. The tension remains thick, like a fog you can’t see through, and the distance between you only seems to grow with each passing day.

For Jungkook, the real battle wasn’t the fair planning... it was you.

Every time your voice echoed in his ears, or your eyes briefly met his, it felt like a thousand invisible threads tangled around his chest, pulling him in every direction at once.

He didn’t understand it. He couldn’t. He tried so hard to stay indifferent, to bury it all beneath layers of cold indifference, but no matter how hard he fought, you had a way of slipping past his defenses.

The harder he tried to focus on the task at hand like the booths, the layout, the logistics, the more you seemed to invade his thoughts. It was maddening, the way you lingered in his mind even when he tried to distract himself.

The sound of your voice, the soft rhythm in your words, the way your eyes sparkled when you were engaged in something you loved... everything about you pulled at him, and he hated it.

He hated how easily he found himself drawn to you, despite everything. Despite the history between you, despite the distance he worked so hard to maintain. He had a job to do. He wasn’t here for this. He wasn’t here for you.

But it didn’t stop him from noticing.

He would notice the way your hair fell in soft waves, catching the light just enough to make it look like something from a dream.

He would notice the curve of your smile as you spoke to your friends sometimes, right before looking at him as he waits for you to head towards the community center together, and the way your smile instantly drops when you spot him makes his chest tighten in ways he didn’t know how to explain.

He would notice how your fingers gently caressed the petals of the flowers you arranged, each movement graceful and deliberate, like everything you touched turned into something beautiful.

It was all so distracting. And in that distraction, Jungkook found himself irritated by his own reaction. He hated how you made his heart race with the simplest of gestures, how his breath hitched when your gaze lingered on him a fraction longer than necessary.

He hated how much you affected him, how your presence seemed to make everything else fade away, as if the world revolved around you and him, suspended in the space between words.

He tried to shut it out. He tried so hard to ignore the flutter in his chest, to keep his focus sharp and steady, but each time you spoke, each time you glanced his way, it became harder. He tried to play it cool, tried to act like none of it mattered, but the truth was... it did matter. It mattered more than he wanted it to.

He despised how beautiful you were, how effortlessly you seemed to captivate every room you entered, how every little thing you did seemed to leave an imprint on his soul. You were the storm he couldn’t weather, the fire he couldn’t outrun, and he hated that he couldn’t escape it.

Every glance, every moment of interaction, felt like a slow burn, a tension he couldn’t release no matter how hard he tried. And the worst part? He couldn’t even find it in himself to want to escape it anymore.

Maybe, deep down, he didn’t want to. Maybe he was tired of pretending that it didn’t matter, tired of trying to push down the feelings that seemed to bubble up from the depths of his chest, no matter how hard he fought them.

There were nights when he would lay awake, the weight of the day pressing down on him, and he could still hear your voice echoing in his mind, still see the way your eyes flickered with a hint of something... something he couldn’t quite place. Something that made him think maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t the only one feeling this tension.

But he never asked. He couldn’t. He didn’t know how to start.

So instead, he buried it, deep down where it could fester. He buried the way his heart seemed to beat a little faster when you walked into the room, and the way his thoughts would drift to you even when he tried to focus on something else.

He buried the guilt of knowing he was avoiding it, of knowing that he was pushing away something that, in some twisted way, he was beginning to want more than anything else.

Because, no matter how much he tried to pretend he didn’t care, no matter how much he tried to convince himself that it was all just a fleeting distraction, he was lying to himself.

He cared. More than he should. And it terrified him.

//

The days continue to blur into one another, each meeting a subtle repetition of the last. But as time passes, you both start to find a rhythm. The awkward silences between you become less frequent, and though the tension never fully dissipates, it becomes something more manageable.

Now, with only one month left for the town fair, your tasks seemed to intertwine more seamlessly, and while Jungkook still maintains that nonchalant, almost aloof demeanor, there’s a strange sense of understanding that develops between you two. It’s not friendly, but it’s cooperative, a balance struck somewhere between resentment and reluctant teamwork.

You start to notice the little changes. The way Jungkook no longer scrolls through his phone during every conversation, or how he no longer avoids your gaze completely. He still doesn’t speak much, but when he does, his tone is less dismissive, more practical, like he’s acknowledging that you’re both in this together, for better or for worse.

You can’t quite tell if he’s faking it or if something is actually shifting beneath the surface, but it doesn’t matter. You focus on the work, pushing through the awkwardness because at least, for now, the process is getting done.

As the days progress, there’s a certain ease in the way you both begin to collaborate. You don’t always agree, and you still bicker over details... where exactly the tents should be placed, what color scheme will work best with the space, and how to arrange the flower displays.

But the exchanges are less sharp, less pointed. It’s as if the constant friction between you has smoothed out into something more tolerable.

You start to enjoy the process in small ways, even though Jungkook remains stoic through it all. The occasional glance exchanged across the table, the rare, almost imperceptible nod of acknowledgment when you make a valid point... those moments feel like victories.

And just when you start to think that maybe this partnership, while not ideal, could work out after all... just when the days seem to stretch into a predictable rhythm and the weight of the past starts to seem less suffocating, you're pulled out of your trance as you glance up at Jungkook who barges into the community center, his shoulders harshly pushing the door open.

Today, you and Jungkook were supposed to sit with Mr. Kwon and a few other committee members to discuss the progress of your planning and work. They're all seated around the table as they watch Jungkook walk inside.

There’s something off about him today. His usual confident stride is replaced by a more cautious pace, and the first thing you notice is the bruise on his cheek... a faint purple mark that looks like it’s only just begun to heal.

Your gaze travels down, noticing the bandages wrapped around his knuckles. For a split second, your stomach churns. You want to ask, to understand, but before you can even take a breath, he’s sitting down without a word, his usual aloofness firmly in place.

You saw him two days ago, and he was completely fine so you look at him, wondering what exactly happened between the interval.

He doesn’t meet your eyes, though you can feel the tension in the air between you. It’s as if the bruise on his face, the bandages on his hands, are somehow adding to the already thick layer of silence between the two of you. His presence fills the room, but in a way that feels more distant than ever.

You’re suddenly acutely aware of the tightness in your chest, the way your heart begins to race, but you force yourself to push those thoughts aside. It’s none of your business, you remind yourself. He’s clearly not in the mood to talk, and you have no right to pry into his life. Your ego keeps you silent, your lips pressed together as you try to focus on the meeting at hand.

The conversation begins, and for a moment, the work distracts you from the storm of emotions swirling inside. But the normal rhythm of the meeting is shattered when a disagreement arises.

It starts with something small... where to position the flowers around the booths, which side will get the best sunlight. The back-and-forth is nothing new, but today, it feels different. Jungkook’s voice is sharper than usual, his irritation more obvious.

“No, it’s wrong.” he snaps, his tone clipped and harsh as he shoots down your suggestion. “I don’t care what you think, it’s just not going to work.” he spits out.

You feel your frustration rising, the familiar tension between you flaring up once again. But this time, it’s worse. Usually it's just the two of you, but today you have spectators. His words hit a nerve, and before you can stop yourself, you shoot back, your voice laced with annoyance. “You don’t have to be so rude about it.”

Jungkook doesn’t back down. His eyes flash with a sudden intensity, his jaw clenching as he leans forward, almost daring you to push him further. “If you stopped pretending to know what you’re doing and actually listened to someone who does, maybe you wouldn’t be so completely useless.”

The words hit you like a slap, and for a moment, everything goes silent in the room. You feel your blood run cold as the sting of his words sinks in. There’s a moment of disbelief, followed by a sharp surge of anger.

You didn’t expect him to snap like that, especially not in front of everyone. But the truth is, you don’t care about the others in the room right now. All you care about is the unbearable pain in your chest that his words have left behind.

Without thinking, you stand up abruptly, your chair scraping against the floor, the noise cutting through the tense silence. You don’t even spare him a glance as you turn to leave, the weight of the moment pressing down on you.

Every step feels like it’s pulling you further away from the meeting, from him, and from the tight knot of emotions you’ve been trying to ignore for so long. The door slams behind you with a resounding finality.

Mr. Kwon and the others in the room are left in stunned silence, but Jungkook doesn’t move. He doesn’t apologize. He doesn’t say a word. He just sits there, staring at the empty space where you had been, the tension now painfully thick enough to cut with a knife.

He doesn’t know what’s worse... the physical pain in his body from the fight with the rival gang he just had before coming here, or the way his words just pushed you further away. But he’s not ready to admit that. Not to anyone. Not even to himself.

"Well..." Mr. Kwon starts, carefully eyeing Jungkook as he glances at the other members. " A little bit of a disagreement, I suppose." he breathes out.

"Let's talk about this calmly in the next meeting." he finally says, after a few seconds as the others silently agree with him. He stands up, softly patting Jungkook on the shoulder, before he exits the community center with the others.

It’s clear that something has shifted. And whatever fragile understanding you had begun to build between the two of you, now seems like a distant memory, lost in the wake of that one, harsh moment. Jungkook doesn’t know how to fix it, but somehow, he knows he’ll have to face it. Eventually.

//

The moon hangs heavy in the sky, casting its silvery glow across the empty streets below. Jungkook walks towards his shop, hands buried deep in his pockets, but there’s no warmth in the gesture. His body moves, but his mind churns, restless, unwilling to give him the peace he so desperately craves.

The meeting replays in his mind over and over, each iteration like a fresh stab to his chest. He can’t forget the sharpness of his words, the way they cut into you, when he knew better than anyone that you did absolutely nothing to deserve it.

A long, heavy sigh escapes him, but it offers no relief. The tension in his shoulders feels like an unshakeable weight, a burden he can’t cast aside. It wasn’t your fault, none of it.

You had no part in the chaos of his morning... a rush of irate customers, a critical delivery gone wrong, and an absurd brawl with a rival biker gang over something that, in hindsight, seemed like pure stupidity.

Yet, somehow, you ended up on the receiving end of all his frustration, a target for everything he’d been bottling up. Guilt gnaws at him as he walks, the sharp taste of regret lingering on his tongue.

Passing your shop, a soft, golden light spills from the glass door. His steps falter, a flicker of curiosity cutting through the wall his pride has built. It's late, and yet you're still here. He pauses for a moment, unsure, torn between his ego and the pull of something deeper. And then, against all reason, he steps closer, pressing his face to the cool glass, eyes narrowing to catch a glimpse.

The sight of you makes something tighten in his chest. Your back is facing him, but your shoulders tremble, faintly at first, but enough to set his pulse racing. His breath catches, and then the realization hits him like a punch. You’re crying.

His heart slams against his ribs, the sight of your silent sorrow unraveling him in ways he can't fully understand. His legs go weak, and the weight of his regret threatens to crush him. He's the cause of your tears, the reason for this moment of pain.

He stands frozen, torn between guilt and fear... fear that his presence will only make things worse. But the guilt surges, a relentless tide that drowns everything else.

His knees threaten to give away under the pressure of his own actions, and for a fleeting moment, he considers turning away, disappearing into the night. But the ache in his chest keeps him rooted to the spot.

Finally, he exhales, slow and deliberate, and pushes the door open, the soft chime of the bell echoing in the stillness. For a heartbeat, he wonders if you’ll hear it, if you’ll acknowledge his presence.

He steps inside, quiet, careful, as though every movement might break something more fragile than glass. The door closes gently behind him, and he moves closer, inching towards you, but the distance between you both feels like an entire universe.

The words he wants to say get caught in his throat. He doesn’t know if any of them will ever be enough. “Y/N…” His voice cracks, quieter than he intended, raw with the weight of unspoken regret.

You don’t turn around. You don’t flinch. The silence stretches between you like an impassable chasm, and the space feels impossibly wide. His chest tightens further as he watches your back, every muscle in his body aching with the need to fix this, to make it right. But he doesn’t know how.

“Y/N, I…” He swallows, fumbling for words, but none come. He knows an apology won’t undo the damage, but it’s the only thing he has left to offer. “I’m sorry. I...I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I shouldn’t have—”

His words fall short as he sees your shoulders tremble harder, your body shaking with the weight of everything you’ve been holding in. You turn slightly, enough for him to catch the tear tracks on your face, and the sight of them, the way your pain is laid bare before him, pierces him in ways he can’t explain.

“I didn’t mean to … to snap at you like that…” His voice falters, breaking under the strain. He knows it’s too late for his apologies to fix anything. You’ve already heard too much of it, seen too much of his anger.

You wipe your eyes hastily, trying to erase the evidence of your tears, but when you face him fully, there’s nothing but raw pain in your gaze. “No, Jungkook,” you cut him off, your voice trembling with anger but steady, unwavering. “You DON’T get to do this.”

He instinctively steps forward, his hand reaching out, but you step back, sharp and defensive.

“You don’t get to come in here now, after everything, and act like you can fix this with a half-hearted apology!” Your voice rises, shaking with emotion, and the dam finally breaks. “I don’t NEED your apology. I don’t WANT your apology!”

The words hit him like a physical blow, but he doesn’t interrupt. He doesn’t try to stop you. He just stands there, feeling the weight of every word, every accusation, land deep in his chest.

“You made me feel small, Jungkook,” you continue, your voice cracking as tears brim in your eyes again. “Ever since you moved next door, that’s ALL you’ve been doing. It’s like you go out of your way to make my life miserable. Everything you say, everything you do, it makes me feel like I’m constantly losing control over the one thing I’ve built with my own hands. Like me and my shop have always been a joke to you.” You pause, breath hitching as you try to steady yourself.

Jungkook knows exactly where this is coming from. He’s the cause of every inch of this. He feels it in his gut, the crushing weight of his mistakes, and he knows he has no right to defend himself. All he can do is stand there and listen.

“You don’t care. You treat me like crap... like I’m just some part of your day that you can lash out at whenever it suits you.” you spit, your voice trembling with fury. “In your world, it’s always about you. Your thoughts, your problems, your emotions... it’s like nothing else... like no else... exists. You never stop to think about how your words affect anyone else. You never stop to think about how your words affect me.”

Your chest heaves with each word, your voice raw with hurt. And as the weight of your anger presses down on him, Jungkook feels a heavy suffocating knot coil in his stomach. This is all his fault.

“You think I don’t have enough to deal with already?” you continue, voice breaking as your tears spill again. “That I need to be the punching bag for your anger? You don’t get to treat me like that, Jungkook. You have no right to make me feel like I’m the problem when you’re the one who’s always pushing people away.”

The words echo in the empty space between you, a finality that’s impossible to ignore. Jungkook stands there, silent, broken. Each word feels like a strike, each accusation hitting him harder than the last. “Every time I think we’re okay, every time I think we can coexist in peace, you give me a million reasons to prove me wrong. You make me feel so fucking stupid for even thinking we could be friends.”

You run your hands through your hair, tears falling like rain as you try to catch your breath, but it’s hard. The storm inside you isn’t over.

A few moments pass in silence, but it’s deafening, suffocating. You close your eyes, letting out a long, strained sigh. “I’ve had enough.” you whisper, voice raw and exhausted. “I can’t do this anymore... Not with you. Just... just get out, Jungkook.”

He doesn’t move. He can’t. He stands there, paralyzed by the weight of his own guilt. No words come, because he knows that nothing he could say will make things better.

You turn away, your shoulders shaking with the weight of everything you’ve just said, and as you walk further away from him, Jungkook knows he’s lost more than just your trust tonight. He reluctantly steps back, still watching you as he moves towards the door. He knows it won't change anything but before he leaves, he still says it. "I'm sorry."

<- part 4 // part 6 ->

series masterlist

taglist: @kimyishin @ghijkd @dolligguk @mimi1097 (let me know if u wanted to be added !!)

[neousfics]

Dead Boy Detectives Fic Recs (Miscommunication Edition)

If you liked my fic Miscommunication, here are the fics that inspired it!

I'll let you go if you kiss me goodbye by shadowquill17

Word Count: 5,440

Rating: Teen and Up

Summary:

Edwin and Charles have been kissing regularly for months.

Edwin is under no illusion that it is because Charles is attracted to him. Clearly Charles misses physical intimacy and he cannot get it in a tangible way with anyone living, and while one day he will no doubt find someone who is both dead and attractive to him… in the mean time Edwin is happy to fill in, as someone who is one of those two things.

Only now Charles has met someone, and it seems the day has come for Edwin to let him go.

Review: I've read this one, like, 10 times. It hurts, it comforts. What more can you ask for?

Bright as a Morning by IntoTheUnknown

Word Count: 9,161

Rating: Teen and Up

Summary:

“You trying to court me like one of your old-fashioned girls?” Charles says, and he doesn’t sound displeased with that idea.

Or:

Edwin tries to navigate a relationship he refuses to believe is reciprocated, while Charles tries to prove that it very much is.

Review: This one is a bit more cute and wholesome than the others on the list, but I love it regardless. We get a fun exploration of Charles and Edwin fumbling through that "we're dating-are we dating?" mess that many early relationships face.

Won't Fear Love by coloursflyaway

Word Count: 10,265

Rating: Teen and Up

Summary:

„We should go a date“, Charles says on a perfectly bland Tuesday, looking up at Edwin from whatever he is doing at the moment.

If Edwin wasn’t dead already, he would suspect that Charles is trying to kill him.

or:

Five times Charles takes Edwin on a date to figure out if he could fall in love with him, and one time when he has an answer.

Review: We always love a coloursflyaway fic and this is no exception. The dramatic irony of, as a reader, watching Charles fall in love through Edwin's eyes yet also watching Edwin persist in willful ignorance of that love makes the hurt/comfort conclusion all the sweeter. 10/10 love this one.

you can have the best of me, baby (and I will give you anything) by aletterinthenameofsanity

Word Count: 7,466

Rating: Mature

Summary:

So they start kissing, and it turns into more. Into scientific exploration of the sort that Edwin finds himself dedicated to. Too dedicated to.

And Charles is good about it all. Too good about it all, as dedicated to the pursuit as Edwin is.

But that's all it is. Of course it is.

Because the thing about what they're doing is that they should really talk. They should really, really talk. They should say something before their mouths trace each other’s, before Charles helps Edwin shed far too many layers, before Edwin carefully peels Charles out of his own clothes and treats with them as much delicacy than he does any case, because Charles' ripped jeans and beat-up black coat patched with nicked pins is more precious than any artifact ever could be.

But they don't talk.

Of course they don't talk.

Because to talk would make this real, and Edwin needs it to be real, but it can't be real.

Review: I love the way the tone of the fic really changes when we switch from Edwin to Charles. It makes for a lovely bit of reader-frustration that makes you want to bash these boys heads together until they sort out their shit. Of course, the reward is just as sweet when we finally get to see them together.

Kiss You Better by coloursflyaway

Word Count: 4,068

Rating: Teen and Up

Summary:

The first time Charles kisses him, it wipes Edwin’s mind clean like nothing else ever has. No case, not Hell, no amount of exhilaration or fear or devastation, none of it compares to the moment their lips meet, nothing even comes close.

They have been talking about… something, Edwin cannot even remember the topic, and Charles gets a look on his eyes that he has never seen before, something far away and yet so aware, and one second, Edwin is talking and the next, there are lips pressed against his, soft and warm and tender.

Charles kisses him and it’s like Edwin is finding a new home in his lips, a new purpose in the hand Charles raises to cup his cheek, a new, yet familiar destiny in the little sigh he breathes into Edwin’s mouth; a kiss of life.

----

10 times Edwin thinks Charles is kissing him to figure out if he loves him, and one time he knows better.

Review: Oh look, it's another coloursflyaway fic and its also amazing. How shocking. This has got some fun poetic language in it and of course some good hurt/comfort.

Caravan of Love by Hse11z5

Word Count: 2,442

Rating: Teen and Up

Summary:

Charles and Edwin are both undercover, trying to solve a supernatural mystery on a caravan site. Charles decided, to keep their cover, they must stay the night in the caravan, say disguised, and pretend to sleep like real people do. Unfortunately, there is only one bed. [Written for Painland week - day 6- free day]

Review: Just a classic one bed moment where we get to watch Edwin desperately try to convince himself this is a totally platonic moment while Charles desperately tries to hit on his bestie.

[leo-fie]

I'm currently beginning my surely lifelong obsession with Terry Pratchett novels, two novels in, halfway through a third. All bangers.

So here's an observation that's probably not new to anyone:

Pratchett is a damn good writer very in conversation with tropes of the genres and his audience. He's ironic without being irony-poisoned.

Example: Monsterous Regiment. Amazing book, enjoyed every second of it. No fat on this one. The story and especially the characters move so fast that I often had to go back an read a page again to follow the train of thought. Pratchett doesn't spend a lot of time explaining how Character A came to Conclusion B, but he leaves enough bits of information that he can lead the reader to the conclusion exactly the moment he wants to. He has to have an extremely good grasp of how people read novels to pull this off. It worked on me and I'm not that attuned to his style yet.

I noticed that Pratchett uses a lot of ironic humour, but it feels different than the irony-poisoning that so plagued the 2000s and 2010s. Nowadays mainstream media has come back around to sincerity a bit, which is great, but Pratchett does both. How? For him, the irony is the starting point.

Monsterous Regiment has a girl disguising herself as a boy to join the military. She does this literally the moment we meet her. No preamble. The usual shenanigans one expects from this type of story are handled soon and serve additional purposes, like introducing the motive of the socks and the mystery of who gave them to Polly. Or the recurring bit about shaving that also does characterisation for Jackrum and Blouse. Etc. The actual plot is about the war. And where a lesser story might have have the climax be the reveal of the protagonist's actual sex, Pratchett does a bunch of interesting things in his climax, including the reveal, but he also ties it in with a dozen other plot threads into an amazing, complicated, messy scene of people talking.

And then again, because he knows where the audience is at, the last two reveals (Paul’s whereabouts and Maladikta) are handled rather quickly, but still appropriately. And for good measure, here’s a bit about Jackrum, in case you were thinking of reading the ending even a little bit less closely.

But Pratchett has been doing this since the beginning. Guards! Guards! Starts with a meeting of a secret society, and quite a lot of fun is made of the silly code phrases and dramatics, which are half the point of a secret society, and about the type of guy who would join. But it’s the beginning of the book, literally the set up. The irony is the starting point.

But it’s not like the ironic bits and the actual story are separated. Rather they work in tandem. In Monsterous Regiment there is so much gender going on, and it is very funny, and it explains the inherently performative nature of gender rather succinctly, but it’s also the cause of the war the brutality of which is present the whole time. It’s socks all the way down.

Also: Pratchett manages to say so much with so little words. The brutality of war stated with nothing but a bunch of guys on the road and a count of their limbs. Holy shit!

Yeah, I get why Pratchett is held in such high esteem. And I’m only reading translations.

[skeletonsloverockcandy]

Man, each year I get to it, I love the May 5th entry and what it means. I take something new from it each time. Like last year I noticed the sacrifices and efforts the Driver and the other passengers made to try and save Jonathan, a stranger to them, by showing up early, by giving him gifts, by blessing him, despite the danger that puts them in. Especially when Dracula, as the driver, points it out to the Driver of the first coach, what he was trying to do, and scares him by pointing out what he said (despite it being heard far out of normal earshot and over the sound of horses galloping).

This year though, I notice that, but I see some of the smaller details too. Like how the mountains are full of blooming fruit trees, and how we are so used to the “gothic” aesthetic we almost forget it’s Spring. How Jonathan takes notice and comfort in the view, despite the growing unease he feels because of the people around him. He is trying to distract himself from how scared he’s getting based on their warnings. Warding him from the Evil Eye.

"No, no," he said; "you must not walk here; the dogs are too fierce"; and then he added, with what he evidently meant for grim pleasantry—for he looked round to catch the approving smile of the rest—"and you may have enough of such matters before you go to sleep."

I also take notice of this from the driver, as it’s almost a morbid gallows humor that he clearly knows to expect the wolves, and knowing what happens later, I’m sure the people here have a horrible fear of them, knowing what Dracula can do…and what he does to that poor mother later.

There were dark, rolling clouds overhead, and in the air the heavy, oppressive sense of thunder. It seemed as though the mountain range had separated two atmospheres, and that now we had got into the thunderous one.

We also get here what might be our first indication that the Count can control the weather to an extent.

They were driven by a tall man, with a long brown beard and a great black hat, which seemed to hide his face from us.

All I can imagine is Dracula in a fake beard now lol.

"You are early to-night, my friend." The man stammered in reply:—

"The English Herr was in a hurry," to which the stranger replied:—

"That is why, I suppose, you wished him to go on to Bukovina. You cannot deceive me, my friend; I know too much, and my horses are swift."

But God, this must have been terrifying for the driver and the passengers. What would Dracula do to punish them for trying to escape him? Would he dare make an example in front of the Englishman right now, or would he grant them mercy to say nothing else as Jonathan is unsuspectingly led to his doom, so they think.

"Denn die Todten reiten schnell"— ("For the dead travel fast.")

The strange driver evidently heard the words, for he looked up with a gleaming smile.

It feels like they’re all in on some sick joke that they know the punchline to, but Jonathan doesn’t, so with the dramatic irony, it feels like we the readers are the same peasants, trying to do anything to save or warn Jonathan but it’s already too late.

I also notice how quickly Dracula tries to shift the power dynamic with Jonathan, and have him doubt his sanity so soon, and he���s not even in the castle yet.

He drives him in circles to try and disorient Jonathan and make him feel even more lost, also keeping him out for far later and making Jonathan question if he’s dreaming or if what he’s seeing is real. I’d also bet more than anything that wine he offer Jonathan on the coach that Jonathan didn’t end up taking was drugged. Because it’s far easier to disorient an unconscious passenger in the dark than it is to disorient a conscious passenger. But he still does a pretty darn good job.

Then there’s the blue flames, which Jonathan doesn’t know how to react to as they seem supernatural and he doesn’t know how to rationalize it yet, so he takes it as if he’s dreaming.

This gave me a sort of shock, for I suppose the general superstition about midnight was increased by my recent experiences. I waited with a sick feeling of suspense.

Jonathan also has already felt the fear and nerves associated with the supernatural and superstition after what all of the townsfolk have told him, and later he tries to brush this off and rationalize again, try not to get too scared, but a part of him already realizes something is wrong.

Then a dog began to howl somewhere in a farmhouse far down the road—a long, agonised wailing, as if from fear.

I also want to point this out, as it’s right before the wolves surround the coach, but it’s the second time a “dog” has been mentioned howling in the night, and with this evidence, I bet Dracula uses the wolves as a threat to keep the peasants and townsfolk in line, as he can’t munch down on everyone. But it shows how powerful he is and what a threat he poses. I wonder who the wolves kill in the night.

Also how Jonathan, as an Englishman where there were no more native wolves, can’t even imagine that’s what they were and thinks they are dogs.

And it makes sense now that earlier when Jonathan was getting out his good ol’ polyglot dictionary, how the two words mean the same thing.

"vrolok" and "vlkoslak"—both of which mean the same thing, one being Slovak and the other Servian for something that is either were-wolf or vampire.

As Dracula, as we see later, can transform into a wolf himself, and so there is probably less distinction between the two in this culture than we have tried to establish in the modern day.

Once there appeared a strange optical effect: when he stood between me and the flame he did not obstruct it, for I could see its ghostly flicker all the same.

Ah, I wonder if this is an early indication that Dracula cannot be depicted through traditional means? Like how he can’t be seen in the mirror. Certain lights just, pass through him.

I shouted and beat the side of the calèche, hoping by the noise to scare the wolves from that side, so as to give him a chance of reaching the trap.

We also see Jonathan taking an active and proactive approach, in this manner trying to be helpful and aid his (what he assumes human) driver. With these sorts of actions already, I can see signs of the man who will pick up a shovel to try and do what needs to be done. Who takes a knife and vows action, not hesitating.

He is polite right now, he’s on business. He doesn’t know what’s coming. But regardless, that person is still in him, and he’s capable of taking great action and doing great things for the sake of survival and doing what he thinks is right.

And Dracula commanding the wolves to stop as the driver, and the cloud passing overhead, I feel is like a subtle display of power and threat to Jonathan. He’s still playing pretend, but when Jonathan does figure out he was the coach the whole time, and he plays coy, the Count knows Jonathan will remember this threat, and it feels that much more sinister.

Jonathan still questions and thinks he fell asleep, as he doesn’t see how he’d have missed the approach of the castle otherwise, but I think he was awake because it was dark, and the count was intentionally taking him a winding and confusing path under a lot of fear. Though if he did fall asleep, I’m that much more terrified about how Dracula was driving him about, now secure in the knowledge that Jonathan would be thoroughly isolated and lost.

And the thing that nearly gives Dracula away twice as the driver is the strength of his grip on Jonathan’s hand, also lacing a subtle threat.

through these frowning walls and dark window openings it was not likely that my voice could penetrate.

Well this is just scary knowing how trapped Jonathan becomes later, knowing he wouldn’t be able to hear the outside world, and how the outside world might not be able to hear him, and how he’s already acknowledging that.

The time I waited seemed endless, and I felt doubts and fears crowding upon me. What sort of place had I come to, and among what kind of people? What sort of grim adventure was it on which I had embarked?

He already is expressing doubts and fears, he isn’t ignorant of what situation he might be in, and it��s only later when he tries to rationalize with the count and is given the comforts manipulation of food and sleep, that he tries to dismiss these fears and take the Count at his word.

Was this a customary incident in the life of a solicitor's clerk sent out to explain the purchase of a London estate to a foreigner? Solicitor's clerk! Mina would not like that. Solicitor—for just before leaving London I got word that my examination was successful; and I am now a full-blown solicitor!

Okay, this is just really cute. Mina said You passed the Bar, you Deserve to call yourself a Solicitor Jonathan <3

Also explains a lot that Jonathan is a fresh faced baby lawyer who just passed the bar and needs this assignment. He’s probably hoping that after this pay day he can marry Mina and have enough for them to start making a life together. Also says a lot for Dracula’s strategy to him to get someone young, inexperienced, and unfamiliar with the area, who might be seen as “expendable” so that Jonathan’s sudden “disappearance” might go unremarked by those in charge (though Mina would notice).

I began to rub my eyes and pinch myself to see if I were awake. It all seemed like a horrible nightmare to me, and I expected that I should suddenly awake, and find myself at home, with the dawn struggling in through the windows, as I had now and again felt in the morning after a day of overwork. But my flesh answered the pinching test, and my eyes were not to be deceived. I was indeed awake and among the Carpathians. All I could do now was to be patient, and to wait the coming of the morning.

Again, those early signs of doubt and fear from Jonathan, showing his unease already at the situation. We did not deserve to be clowning on him so much when this book club first started. It’s not his fault he’s not genre aware 😔 I’m sorry Jonathan.

And when Drac does show up to open the door:

"Welcome to my house! Enter freely and of your own will!" He made no motion of stepping to meet me, but stood like a statue, as though his gesture of welcome had fixed him into stone.

I wonder if he’s like that because he needs to be invited into places to be there, so if it’s almost like a supernatural hold of importance for him to offer the same thing. Almost like a subtle joke or curse with the knowledge that after Jonathan enters, he won’t be allowed to leave of his own will

holding out his hand grasped mine with a strength which made me wince, an effect which was not lessened by the fact that it seemed as cold as ice—more like the hand of a dead than a living man.

I also like how all the clues are there, and since Jonathan has written them down and taken note of them, the expression on them must be some of the things he’s piercing together about his own fears as well that he’s afraid to voice aloud or in his journal, because if he voices his suspicions, they might become more real to him.

The strength of the handshake was so much akin to that which I had noticed in the driver, whose face I had not seen, that for a moment I doubted if it were not the same person to whom I was speaking

See? He knows what’s up, he’s just afraid to say it.

I also didn’t pick up that Jonathan’s room is octagonal for some reason. I wonder if there’s any reason for that or symbolism with the 8 sides?

Also the letter from Mr. Hawkin’s feels very ominous in retrospect knowing what’s coming and how Dracula will treat Jonathan:

"I must regret that an attack of gout, from which malady I am a constant sufferer, forbids absolutely any travelling on my part for some time to come; but I am happy to say I can send a sufficient substitute, one in whom I have every possible confidence. He is a young man, full of energy and talent in his own way, and of a very faithful disposition. He is discreet and silent, and has grown into manhood in my service. He shall be ready to attend on you when you will during his stay, and shall take your instructions in all matters."

I feel like Dracula knew to take advantage of that, and also this feels like him basically reading the menu for an ideal victim once his business is said and done, so I get shivers, brrrrr.

Hitherto I had noticed the backs of his hands as they lay on his knees in the firelight, and they had seemed rather white and fine; but seeing them now close to me, I could not but notice that they were rather coarse—broad, with squat fingers. Strange to say, there were hairs in the centre of the palm. The nails were long and fine, and cut to a sharp point. As the Count leaned over me and his hands touched me, I could not repress a shudder. It may have been that his breath was rank, but a horrible feeling of nausea came over me, which, do what I would, I could not conceal.

I also like that while Jonathan is describing Dracula, he notice his hands. And I am also struck with how little it is brought up that he has hair on his palms, and I can see the more wolf-like nature of this vampire mythology. I wonder if Bram Stoker intended for werewolves and vampires to be the same thing in his novel? They are certainly compared and have similar powers and weaknesses, so it’s possible I guess.

Also Dracula has corpse-breath lol. Nasty.

I saw the first dim streak of the coming dawn. There seemed a strange stillness over everything; but as I listened I heard as if from down below in the valley the howling of many wolves.

Ah ha! Also the first foreshadowing we get for the importance of dawn and dusk in the novel, as we know later how important timing becomes for our protagonists, so seeing its affects already make me smile at the recognition of the signs so early.

"Listen to them—the children of the night. What music they make!" Seeing, I suppose, some expression in my face strange to him, he added:—

"Ah, sir, you dwellers in the city cannot enter into the feelings of the hunter."

And ah, an iconic line. Though I just get second hand angry and uncomfortable at Dracula’s insistence that he’s a “hunter” 🤢. God I just hate him haha.

I am all in a sea of wonders. I doubt; I fear; I think strange things, which I dare not confess to my own soul. God keep me, if only for the sake of those dear to me!

And literally Day 1 of being in the castle and Jonathan is already questioning his sanity and piecing things together he’s afraid to even voice in his journal. This is the second time in as many days he has already wished that those around him find this journal and laments should anything bad happen to him. It creates the impression of one who knows they’re walking into danger but must go on anyway.

But I love Jonathan so much, and I definitely really like the May 5th entry, and it does so much work to set up what happens later.

[aayakashii]

“Favorite movie.” Ren asks, staring at his cellphone's screen instead of you.

You purse your lips, thinking about it for a second, before coming up with your answer.

“Frances Ha.”

He scoffs.

“Frances what? Is this one of those cult french movies? Are you trying to sound intellectual right now? Be for real.”

You roll your eyes and look up from your own phone, where you were writing Ren's own answers to the 20 questions game you were forcing him to play.

Haru had almost begged you to try and actually become Ren's friend, just like a concerned father with a problem child. How could you possibly say no to one of the few people who liked you?

Ren isn't a problem child, though. He's just incredibly, terribly, horribly annoying.

“It's not a cult movie. Maybe if you didn't watch only B-horror movies, you'd know about it” you stick out your tongue and flip your middle finger at him.

The “Become friends with Ren” plan was going great.

“Oh yeah? Then tell me about it and I'll be the judge of whether or not it's worth watching.” he flips his own middle finger back at you and then grabs a chip from the ridiculously big bowl of snacks you had prepared for the game. You were pretty sure you had depleted Darkwick's stock of chips just to be sure you had at least one type Ren would like.

Hey, no one could ever say you'd ever half-ass a mission after all. Maybe Leo could. But he doesn't count.

“Since when are you the judge of whether or not movies are good? You'd give Rubber an Oscar if you could.”

Ren gasps at the mention of that movie, almost choking with the handful of chips he had stuffed in his mouth.

“You know Rubber?!” he mumbles almost incoherently in between chews.

“The horror movie about a freaking homicidal car tire? Yeah, Ren, I think everyone knows about that movie because it's basically a meme… You're the only one that takes it seriously” you sigh, shaking your head. Why weren't you surprised that he knew and liked that abomination. What was wrong with him. God.

He sneers at you, shrugging.

“You just don't get the irony of it. The sarcasm! And you also can't appreciate the special effects, okay? Don't blame me just because you're a close minded uncultured human.”

You groan loudly.

“Oh goooood, before you try to fight for that movie's honor, can we please continue the game?” you say, exasperated.

“Not before you tell me why you like the cult french movie.” he puts his phone on the table face down and dramatically crosses his arms, adamant about continuing on the same topic. Suddenly you could understand why Towa called him Wolfsbane.

“It's not french!” you sigh “Fine, what do you want to know?”

Ren hums in thought for a moment, tapping his chin with his index finger.

“Why do you like it?” he finally asks, and you widen your eyes.

You weren't actually expecting him to ask why you liked the movie. You thought he'd ask about the plot or the cast or the cinematography, but not about your personal connection to it. Maybe it was just a whim or pure and random curiosity, but you still grab that and run with the idea that he is finally warming up to you and getting interested in knowing about his new “friend”. Haru would probably accept that as a sign too.

“I… relate to the main character, I think. She's, uh. Messy, has a hard time with relationships and all that.” you try to answer, avoiding his gaze and scratching your head. How much could you share with him, truly? Does he REALLY want you to step on a soap box and tell all of the reasons why you like the movie and why you relate to the main character? You hardly see Ren as someone who likes emotional or deep things if his disdain for cult movies is anything to go by. So you just say the bare minimum.

Ren deadpans.

“Wow, you gave me so much information to work with right now.” he says, voice dripping with sarcasm.

You roll your eyes.

“Do you really want to know why I like it?”

“Well, yeah? That's why I asked?” Ren raises an eyebrow.

Huh. Okay, I guess. Here goes nothing, you think.

“Okay. There's this monologue in which she talks about what she wants from love.”

Ren groans, loud and dramatic, slapping his own forehead.

“Nooooooo! Not the cheesy shit!”

You shush him, getting flustered in spite of yourself.

“Goddammit Ren, I KNEW you'd act like this! But you asked! Now let me finish!” you croak, embarrassed, avoiding his eyes.

“She says she wants to love someone in such a way that... when her eyes meet the eyes of that person, even if they're distant or in a crowd, they know they have something special. Like there's a whole secret world between them. Then she would know that that is her person in this life.”

You pause for a moment.

“And in the end, you find out that this special person, for her, is actually her best friend! I like this idea, you know. This depiction of- of love. And that's… uh, that's it.” you finish, clearing your throat and getting more embarrassed with every word you said.

Ren stares at you in silence for a long while after you finish.

“Well?” you ask, anxiously.

He stretches his arms wide, elbows and shoulders popping after being hunched over the table for so long, and then leans back on his chair, folding his hands in front of him.

“Well. It is some cheesy shit after all.” Ren says, flatly.

And then he starts laughing.

Ohhhh, this JERK. You spilled your most personal thoughts about your favorite movie right in front of him and he had THE GALL to laugh and mock you!

You grab a handful of chips and quickly throw them at him. He shields himself with his hands, still laughing.

“Hey! That's harassment! Abuse of power!” He says in between his laughs. “I'll call Ritsu! I'll sue you! I have a case against you!”

“You're insufferable!” you yell, cheeks tingling with embarrassment, and you hide your mouth with your hands to keep him from seeing the small smile that was appearing on your lips at the sound of his laugh.

Right as you were going to grab another handful of chips to throw at him, the entrance door slams open, and Haru saunters in. The red head gasps loudly at the scene unfolding in front of him.

“Ohhh, will you look at that! Ren laughing! Now that's a sight for sore eyes!” Haru says, voice brimming with joy.

“Ugh… The creep is back” Ren quickly morphs back into his gloomy mood like his happy switch had been turned off at the mere sight of Jabberwock's captain.

He grabs his phone, putting it inside his pocket, before grabbing a handful of chips from the bowl.

“Wait, you're leaving? We barely started the game!” you protest, picking up the chips that had fallen to the ground during your "attack".

“Yeah, he ruined the mood, obviously” Ren says, rolling his eyes and quickly making way to the stairs that led to the bedrooms.

“Awww, don't be shy to interact with your friend, Ren!” Haru says, blatantly winking at you at the word ‘friend’.

Ren only grumbles a complaint, to which Haru just sighs and shakes his head. He turns to you, immediately changing the subject to some errand he would love to get some help since his dorm mates definitely weren't going to fulfill their responsibilities at all and how you are the only one he can trust.

As Haru goes on and on about how you'd be a lifesaver if you just lent him a hand for a moment, your eyes flit towards the top of the stairs.

Ren was slowly dragging his feet through the last steps, lazily looking down at where you were standing.

Your eyes meet despite the distance between you two and, even though he blushes, startled, when you meet his stare, he sustains your gaze.

You smile.

Get it? Get it? Please tell me you got the end

Anyway here's the monologue mentioned in this fic! Frances Ha isn't my favorite movie but I love it deeply <3 wrote this on a whim because there's barely any Ren love here! I know he's this close 🤏 to being an incel but we can fix him 😔

[itsahotminuteinbetween]

Aaaand at last the long awaited chapter 7 that I've been hoarding from yall for a lil while! There's just a little buildup here, so not terribly essential, but I think it was important to write anyway. This sets up the next chapter, so be aware of that...

And as always, I must invite my esteemed guests @itsberrydreemurstuff, @bibooby, @laegume and @andyssilly to the lil slumber party. (If anyone else wants to be tagged just lemme know and I'll put ya in the next one!)

Anyways, on with the show!

Word Count: 3075

The tension from this morning melts away pretty quickly once the kids show up. You’re dragged into a tea party, sipping air from a plastic cup with your knees tucked into your chest to fit you while you gossip to the children about Mr. Teddy Bear’s newest escapade in an overly-posh accent.

That feeling from earlier creeps up on you again, the phantom constrictions in your chest tightening, and you hardly have time to mask your sharp inhale and wince when a hard shock runs up your spine, warning you of what’s to come. The kids seem worried for a moment, but you cover up your reaction with a dramatic tale, urging them to ‘banish’ you to your station to save them from the wretched demon possessing your immune system. It’s not really that type of illness, not the sort they can catch, but you’ve always had a bit of a flair for the dramatic, and your performance does the trick.

You regret not bringing your medicine today, but Sun had warned you not to, and he was effectively the boss. It wasn’t so bad anyway- just a bit of soreness, nothing terribly noteworthy. Worst case scenario, you could take a pill from the Daycare’s little pharmacy cabinet and make it through the day. And maybe call your brother as a last resort, but you refused to bother him unless it was an emergency. For now, you’ll just wait it out. 

Snacktime is announced, and you wheel out the food, standing to the side as your stomach decides to make its hunger known. Did you have breakfast before you left? You don’t know. You didn’t think to pack a lunch (you never do) and your clock-out time wasn’t soon enough for you to placate your hunger. You stare at the contents on the table and remind yourself that it’s not for you, it’s for the kids, and Sun is right there. You return to your work station and attempt to read your book, but the words can’t seem to stay in your head.

By the time the lights go out, the pounding has sharpened, and you’re hardly able to move your legs without some ache in your bones. It’d probably be best if you left the daycare to check yourself over, which you neglect to tell Moon before he even gets his chance to do his little routine. His faceplate tilts to the side with a little click, and you’re out the door before he thinks to say anything. 

—---------------------------------

Moon blinked. That’s…new. They never take a break during naptime. 

The only reply he got from his brother was a subdued hum of agreement. 

—------------------------------

Your slightly unbalanced speed-walking comes to a halt a good 20 paces from the Daycare as you realize you have no idea where you’re going. You’ve never really been through the Pizzaplex aside from heading to your post or to Parts & Service, so you only knew two or three routes in this maze. Well, and the DJ’s arcade, but you only know the directions there from the entrance, not the Daycare. 

Maybe you could find your way from Parts & Service? Last time you’d been, the STAFF bots led the way…

Scratch that. You knew one route.

Lovely. You can’t say that you’re particularly thrilled to do more walking in your state, but you suppose there’s no time like the present to get further adjusted to your workplace. There was a restaurant around here somewhere, right? Even if their only dish was pizza that tasted like cardboard topped with soggy oatmeal, food was food, and it was better than nothing. If you could only figure out how to get there.

The irony of the fact that you have to go find the Map bot and ask it for directions is not lost on you. 

Oh, how the tables have turned.

Luckily, you don’t have to look far. It just so happens that one is conveniently stationed around a corner at some random attraction. You approach it awkwardly and tap it on the shoulder, offering a small, unsure smile. “Hey, I was wondering if you, uh…if you could spare me a map?”

You swear the stoic face of the bot in front of you practically lights up, and you can feel the beaming smile it gives you in spite of its static expression as it shoves a map into your hand with the vigorous and insistent mantra of “Take a map! Please take a map!”

You struggle to suppress the little laugh that bubbles out of you upon seeing its excitement, and you comply with its wishes, shooting it a much more relaxed smile and thanking it before it wheels away to the next set of customers. 

You examine the map eagerly thrust upon you. Apparently there are several dining areas, one for every floor. You don’t have much time to explore, though, so you choose the closest one to you: the FazPad.

After twenty minutes of running around in search of the elusive location, you’re finally able to find and order something from the somewhat overpriced menu with the help of the employee discount. Ordering a Moondrop curry seems fitting considering your position, though you pray Moon doesn’t somehow find out about it. You poke at the bright blue dish that you’re pretty sure is supposed to be edible. It isn’t half as bad as you expected, surprisingly. Shame you couldn’t say the same for its namesake.

Speaking of the lunar menace, you have maybe half an hour before naptime is over, and you refuse to be late. You’d seen them when you were tardy, and it was not pretty. Your mini check up would go pretty quickly, as you were confident it wasn’t anything problematic. 

Another ten minutes is spent trying to find a bathroom (you do not want to go back to use the one in the Daycare while Moon’s still out unless absolutely necessary). You lock yourself in a small stall and lean against the door to look yourself over, fingers gently pressing into your legs and lower back with hesitance. You cringe slightly, lips thinning into a line. You hate when this happens, but it should pass eventually. With any luck, you’d be able to go to work and avoid the worst of it. You’d just have to be a little more mindful of your limits.

This probably wouldn’t end up like last time.

Satisfied with your conclusion, you make your way back to the Daycare. Naptime was still in session and you were anticipating a trick upon your return.

—----------------------

You wake up in a cold sweat, heart racing as you gasp for air, shooting up from the mattress and breathing heavily, your eyes dart around your room, relaxing when you spot the familiar dark silhouettes of your belongings. There’s just enough moonlight from the window for you to make out details. Your hand flies to your chest almost instinctively, as if to verify that your heart’s still pumping, you’re still alive, still here. 

You’re awake now.

Once your initial panic dies down, you become acutely aware of three things. 

The first is that it is very hot, almost unbearably so. Sweat clings to your form as perspiration runs down your forehead. You can hear the AC vents pushing out air, but it doesn’t help cool the burning in your core that spreads through you.

The second thing you notice is that the shirt your hand is clutching tightly is your work uniform. You must’ve blacked out after coming home from work. As usual, you don’t remember that.

The third thing is the feeling of bile rising in your throat, and it swiftly surpasses the first two observations. You stagger to the kitchen sink on numb legs and lean heavily against the kitchen counter, retching violently. You’re still shaking by the time you can manage to lift your head out, forcing yourself to hack and spit the rest out to flush out the remaining fluids choking your throat. You hazard a glance at the sink before washing away the blue chunks. Figures. You’re never having Fazbear’s trademarked trash again.

You navigate back to your room to brush your teeth and rid the foul taste of vomit from your mouth, cranking up the AC on the way to bed. You toss the thin cover aside and adorn your pajamas, waiting for sleep to claim you and take you from this awful feeling. Something nags you in the back of your mind, warning you that it’s only about to get worse before you’re dragged under, in and out of consciousness as the night progresses.

Your alarm blares some time later and you fumble to turn it off. Little shit doesn’t know you’ve been up for the past hour. You bite back a groan. While your stomach had thankfully settled overnight, everything else has hit you full force. 

It’s official. You’re Sick.

Or at least, that’s what the shit feeling leads you to believe.

You make a weak attempt to sit up…only to immediately crash back down again. An involuntary cry of alarm rips from you at that sharp pain that lances through your spine. It’s so much worse than yesterday. You shake your head and force back tears. It usually doesn’t get this bad. It usually just stops at your lower back. 

Still, you have a job to do, and you’re not letting a little thing like this stop you.

Your things are shoved into your bag, work clothes thrown on. You hesitate but decide to bring the pills anyway. Maybe it’s the lack of sleep talking, but Sun yelling at you is nothing compared to this.

You’re out of the apartment before you even remember you forgot to pack a lunch yet again. 

—---------------------------

The attendants can't help but notice that something seems…off…about you.

On the surface level, nothing has changed. You still walk into the room and greet them, still write your reports and go along with Sun’s demands and Moon’s antics. But there are little things that tip them off, like the small limp in your step or the naps you’ve begun taking more often when the lights go out. 

Moon notices your bag has lost some weight. The usual thought and care packed into it is absent. Extra clothes and books are left behind, with only your phone and laptop inside. You’d also taken to bringing those pills. He’d given up on lecturing you about it when all he got was an affirmative that was immediately broken the next day. The lunar AI assured him they were harmless, but it was still off-putting.

Your emails, they noticed, had also become more succinct and to the point. Not that it was a bad thing: you tended to ramble in great detail, even in the simple notes. Lately, though, they found that it was missing something. 

Take your recent Maintenance update, for example. You’d apparently noticed the issues with their joints and filed a request for Parts & Service. You always notified them a day or two in advance prior to an appointment. This time, however, they did not receive your normally well-written email. It remained polite, of course, but it was clipped, curt.

Unexpected.

And it wasn’t just your work suffering, either. Your usual excitement when playing with the children was absent. You were tenser, got tired more easily, frequently taking breaks and hanging back to catch your breath.

No, the change wasn’t too great, but it was there, and it was starting to get a bit out of hand. You’d pretty much been glued to your desk for the last two days. And while you weren’t really required to do much else besides your updates, it still felt…wrong.

It didn’t matter, though, they reasoned. If you weren’t feeling good, you’d take a couple days off and they’d be done with it. They’d have enough leverage in addition to your recent slacking to get rid of you.

They…did still want to get rid of you, Sun reminded himself. You had flaws, flaws that could not exist in their perfect system, flaws that had to be eradicated to maintain order.

It was better for everyone that way.

______________________________________

You rub your eyes, slowly scanning your ID at the clock-in station and fighting back the dark edges in the corner of your vision. You hadn’t been sleeping well as of late, and it was starting to take a toll on you. You didn’t dare to call in sick, however, remembering all too well your coworkers’ reactions when you’d returned from you unexpected time off.

Granted, that was a special case, but they didn’t know that.

It’s not like you knew what had been going on at the time, anyway.

You stroll into the Daycare as usual, bag slung on your shoulder and a slightly less enthusiastic greeting on your lips. Your routine is interrupted when without warning, a dizziness crashes into you and leaves you with spots in your vision. They do not clear this time when you try to force them away. The room spins, and your knees buckle under you, causing you to lurch forward. You brace yourself against the wall and hiss at the sudden burning ache of your muscles. 

As quickly as it came, the feeling withdraws, pulling back fast enough that the dizziness multiplies instead of lessening. Once the room soon stills, you pull yourself back to your feet, sitting down at your desk and getting to work like nothing happened.

Just as well that no one saw.

You’re in the midst of writing another report when your phone goes off. You take a glance around to make sure that Sun isn’t watching and open them. There are three messages waiting for you. One from your brother asking how you’ve been, one mysterious letter from Fazbear, and one from…

Ah.

You skim the last one and dismiss it. The first two are received with greater excitement, something you haven’t felt in a little while. You respond to your brother with your trademarked ‘I’m doing just great let’s talk about something else now’ and read Management’s reply.

Hello, Fazbear Employee, 

We have received your request for funding for greater literary material. After careful consideration, we have decided to approve your proposal. You are required to send a list of materials you wish to purchase. Please remember that any liabilities and/or repercussions faced as a result of this project will result in immediate termination of your contract.

Thank you and have a Faz-errific day!'

Your exhaustion and illness is momentarily forgotten as you squeal and bounce in your seat excitedly. Oh, you already had a dozen titles running through your head that you were certain the kids would love. You’d already compiled a short list a few pages long in your notebook, you’d have to copy it and send it over as soon as possible-

Aaaaand there was that ever so familiar voice piping up in front of you and instantly dashing all your hopes and dreams. “Oh? What’s got you oh-so chipper this morning?”

You swallow down that instinctual feeling of being doused in ice water and manage to maintain your smile. “Management approved my request for buying more books!”

“I’d been under the impression you’d been doing so already..” he remarked dryly.

You ignore his comment, showing him the email and forgetting who you’re ranting to your boss in your excitement about this new opportunity. He takes the device and reads the email himself before responding in an odd voice. “Management didn’t send us an update about this…”

“I just found out myself,” you shrug, not noticing the subtle glare shot at you. “I already had a few titles in mind, but I’d be more than happy to get your opinions on them. The kids are gonna be so excited to get some new stories for naptime, and I’m sure we could-“

“There’s nothing wrong with what we have now for naptime,” he cuts you off, a second, darker undertone layering his voice briefly. His eyes flash red for a split second. 

You blink and hastily amend yourself. “Right, sorry, I just meant that it’ll be nice to have some more variety, that’s all. We could probably find some stuff for you guys, too, if you wanted. I’m sure Moon’s gotten tired of children’s books by now.”

The attendant says nothing for a while, remaining eerily still, and you turn around to see if he’s still there. There have  been some times where they’ve slipped away without you noticing. How they did so was unknown to you considering the many bells hanging from their frame. “Sun?”

The lights cut off abruptly, and the raspier voice returns, drawling sardonically with a hint of mockery. “Awww, you would do that for meee?” He clasps his hands together and flutters his ‘eyelids’ in a show of sarcasm.

“Hi Moon,” you greet him without missing a beat, shutting your laptop and rummaging through your bag for that notebook of yours. You normally brought it, but maybe you’d forgotten it again. You seemed to be doing that a lot lately…

A blue arm shoots out and grabs yours, promoting you to look up at your assailant’s glowering gaze.

“We don���t need your handouts, certainly not from the likes of you,” he hisses, squeezing your wrist tighter for emphasis. 

You manage a nod, swallowing the lump in your throat and lightly tugging at your arm to signal your desire for release. “R-right, of course, sorry, I just thought-“

“We aren’t interested in the thoughts of a mere worker.” His grip does not yield, the silicone masked metal hand like a shackle. You briefly recall Monty’s harsh bruises (time) before. You don’t want another limb to stop functioning right now. That would really suck.

He leans in to speak, privately relishing in the way you try to lean back with an inkling of fear. He grins sharply. “Y-“

A knock at the door startles the two door of you, earning a growl from Moon and a shuddery exhale of relief from you.

He sends you one last loathsome look before the lights flicker on and Sun attends to the new arrival. You release another sigh, rubbing your now sore wrist. Another ache added to the list.

And with that, a new day has officially begun.

As optimistic as you’d like to be, you’re pretty sure you know exactly where it’s going from here.

———————

Aaaaaaaand that’s a wrap! Sorry for the long wait everyone, hope it was worthwhile and I’ll see you all in the next one!

[allamericanb-tch]

crimson rivers thoughts (10) 

@tastetherainbow290

chapter 20

i’m scared for this chapter

my death predictions are vanity, peter, irene, and one of the death eaters (i can’t remember their names) (please let me be wrong please let me be wrong)

i’m only reading this one for now bc it’s “quick” according to the author

sirius pov! ok that’s good

ugh slughorn. die.

oh no the death eaters found peter

peter noooo omg. do not die right now.

they’re just. beating him to death. 

WHY DOES PETER ALWAYS BETRAY THEM IN EVERY FIC

james pov ahhhh dramatic irony

VANITY NO

and there goes willa

VESPA NO you will be missed

hodge no not vanity please

poor james oh my gosh

no vanity vanity no why no

tears

ok i need to be somewhere in 20 minutes this is horrible timing but i have to stop reading now

guys im back. it’s been like an hour i am not ready

“She never got her first kiss. She never got to fall in love. She never got to go home. Her prince never saved her. Her prince killed her. Her prince is dead.” SOBBING

why would you write this. i’m so serious rn WHY WOULD YOU WRITE THIS

peter saving regulus ❤️

IRENE NO

why would you write this. 

ugh poor mathias. they didn’t mean to 💔

irene no what are you doing

MATHIAS TOO NO

JAMES NO what’s gonna happen i’m scared

i know james isn’t dead but regulus doesn’t and no one can tell him james is still alive ugh poor regulus 

sirius pov

yes sirius send regulus a secret message

rip juniper 💔 i know i would’ve been sad if we saw more of her

every time the death count shows at the end of the chapter i get so sad when i see evan’s name

chapter 21

maybe this one is happier?

ugh i hate slughorn

the two victor thing this is just like the hunger games (every time i say smth like this it’s like… yeah… that’s the whole point 😭)

sirius you’re so smart i love you

dorlene yay!! i love them even tho this is SAD

dorcas running FOUR MILES to see marlene 

i love them.

dorcassss tell her about the orderrrrr

“you’re a good friend” ❤️‍🩹

remus pov switch

regulus putting everything in the river ok

he’s keeping his own stuff that’s good

is regulus going to LEAP ACROSS THE RIVER

okay he didn’t. good.

run regulus run go find james

“It reminds Remus vaguely of dogs getting the zoomies” 😭

i lowkey forgot to be writing my thoughts down

“fancy a trip to space” sirius 😭

hanky panky time

MOON

AHHHHHHHH

why are they stopping 😯

oh poor sirius ☹️ ugh i just feel so bad for him like. the way the hallow treated him was so unfair 

chapter 22

james pov!

james 💔

“happy birthday hodge” TEARS

eeee regulus is going to find james

james talking to regulus in his head

“regulus never fails to look up” 😭😭😭😭😭😭

poor james just out here suffering

james getting high off anesthesia 😭

come on regulus you can do it go find james

HE FOUND HIM!!!!!!!!!!!

james thinking regulus was sirius ☹️

regulus just going with it

the james pov of this 💔

not him trying to sell sirius about regulus’ “parting gift” 😭 i hope he does get to tell him eventually

he’s realizing

“you came and found me” “of course i did” AHHHHH

kiss kiss kiss

ok they’re hugging i love them

this is so sad but reunion!!!

sirius pov

joffery?! what is your offer

chapter 23

regulus telling james abt irene ☹️

why is this sad

they’re flirting

ope nevermind flirting over

regulus holding james ❤️‍🩹

i bet the audience is eating this up. which is kind of really sad. like. they’re having a moment and everyone’s just. watching.

SOUP 

they’re literally katniss and peeta in that one scene

“thank him” im just as confused as you are regulus

regulus feeding james (this is giving me the ick lowkey)

them talking about their relationship i hate that regulus is only doing this for the games

ugh i hate that james is being so james right now like. i want them to do this in peace and privacy and without the context of the games

“I used to collect brown rocks if they reminded me of your eyes” if someone did that for me i would cry

regulus telling james he was his first love

KISS ALREADY

i feel bad rn bc im like. the audience. intruding on their private moment. i know this is purely fiction but still. 

😯 they kissed

a sad kiss but a kiss nonetheless 

they’re kissing for real now eeeee

“That was one of the happiest moments of my life” ☹️☹️☹️

“now James knows that Regulus would kiss him in the pursuit of saving his life, if there literally was no other option” i am so sorry james

“peter wouldn’t betray me like that”

the tension rn (and not in a good way)

my sister is watching my favorite episode (s2 e13) of regular show rn im getting so distracted this is going to be my last chapter

“You can't protect me from this, because I'm already here” 💔

why is this SO SAD

“If there's one thing all of this has taught me it's that I've always cared” 

the end notes: “everyone: WHEN WILL THEY KISS??? me: be careful what you wish for” this feels targeted

[i-am-still-bb]

Whumptober 2024 - Day 5

Sunburn | Healing Salve | Heatstroke | “If my pain will stretch that far.” (Lottery Winners, Burning House)

Anders/Mitchell, T

Anders sat sideways on his couch, one leg tucked beneath the other. He faced Mitchell who sat a certain distance away. He wasn’t at the other end of the couch, but there was a physical gap between them. 

One elbow resting on the back of the couch Anders linked his fingers together. He’d been prepared for a variety of revelations when Mitchell said that they “needed to talk.” But this? This had not even been on his radar.

“Just to make sure I understand you,” Anders said slowly. “You’re a vampire.”

Mitchell started to respond, but Anders was not finished.

“As in blood sucking, Nosferatu, Dracula, sleeps in a coffin vampire?”

“I don’t sleep in a coffin.”

“Good to know,” Anders nodded. He reached for the glass beer bottle that sat on the coffee table. 

Mitchell watched Anders expectantly. He saw the furrow between Anders’ eyebrows, the one that he got when he was considering something, but he also watched the loose grip Anders had on the neck of the bottle, the tightness of his lips as he took a drink and swallowed. All things that he wanted to see again. But Anders wasn’t making eye contact, he was watching the liquid in the colored bottle swirl as he idly circled his wrist, a form of fidgeting that Mitchell was becoming intimately familiar with and fond of. 

“I don’t do well with blood,” Anders said without preamble. “I never have. And then after last year it’s even worse. So I don’t think this is going to work out after all. And I do see the irony in that,” he added with a mirthless snort. 

Mitchell opened his mouth to respond, but closed it again. The topic felt closed, but Anders wasn’t kicking him out, not yet at least. 

“There isn’t really that much blood. And I’m practically house broken, as George and Annie would say, blood bags and all. And there’s those insulated cups that you can’t see through.”

Anders snorted. “A Stanley cup full of blood? You’ll fit in perfectly with the girly pops down at the mall. We’ll just have to get you a pair of those fuzzy boots.”

Mitchell didn’t really get the references, but he nodded along. Joking had to be a better sign than the alternative. 

“Is there, ah,” Mitchell hesitated, he looked out the wall of windows that gave Anders’ living room a view of the city. “Is there a reason you don’t like blood?” When Anders said nothing Mithcell kept talking, because silence was not his favorite thing during tense conversations. “Because it’s not my favorite either, but like, maybe I can help? Like I’ll promise not to leave the Stanlid cup with blood in it laying around.”

“Stanley,” Anders corrected. He drank most of what was left in the bottle before continuing, counting incidents off on his fingers. “Ty got hurt when we were kids when we were messing around and there was a lot of blood. That was the first time that I realized I didn’t like blood. Then Axl got shot in the chest with an arrow. Then Helen was murdered. So I don’t don’t know if my pain will stretch far enough to carry on with you if there’s going to be blood involved.”

Mitchell was a bit taken aback. “That sucks.”

“Tell me about it.”

“I promise not to make anyone bleed against their will?” Mitchell offered awkwardly.

Anders laughed. “I thought that was part of the whole vampire thing.”

“Blood banks.”

Anders raised his eyebrows. “That would work.

“Do they get to select that when they donate? Donate to: dying human OR Donate to: ravenous vampire?”

Mitchell rolled his eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Hm.” Anders had relaxed during their teasing, the distance between their bodies lessening. 

“Does that mean I can stick around at least a bit longer?” 

Anders sighed dramatically, “I suppose. As long as you promise to keep the blood to a minimum.”

“Cross my heart.” Mitchell made the requisite gesture. He shifted on the couch so that Anders’ legs were on either side of his hips. “So minimal blood, and …” he paused, moving so that he leaned over Anders. “Maximal sex?”

Anders did not reply with words.

[shrinkthisviolet]

Talk Shop Tuesday: Do you have an episode you've been especially excited to add a Morgan to?

YESSSS I love this question!! Here’s some off the top of my head:

1x17 (Barry tries to bench Morgan because of [redacted for spoilers], but Morgan ofc doesn’t listen because Iris and Henry are both in danger and Barry can’t focus on both of them. Results in some tension between them too, esp on Barry’s end (and tbh I get why))

1x19 (I’ve discussed why here :D ✨Bates-induced angst/whump✨)

1x23 (the Morgan vs Eowells confrontation in the finale…oooh it’s gonna be SO GOOD)

2x13-2x14 (I’ve been more and more tempted lately to have Morgan tag along to rescue Jesse, and!! I’m so excited!! Especially because she and E2 Barry would hit it off, and that’s so fun to think about)

Not a specific episode count, but…Morgan & Jesse’s roommates arc. I know it’s post-2x16, but beyond that, the details are currently fuzzy 😅

2x16 (the Trajectory episode!! Still nailing down some details, but I’m excited 💞 Eliza survives this episode ofc, and she even gets to chew Tina out a little. And Morgan shows her first big sister compassion 🥺 also also, a little backstory modification for Eliza regarding how she got her powers, sticking closer to the comics, and no split personality (and I’ve mentioned before that like the comics, she’s a WOC in my AU!))

2x17 (Barry travels back to 1x11!! So excited to write him interacting with s1 Team Flash…and especially s1 Morgan. Oh the dramatic irony. Oh the fury he’d feel, and the helplessness—the red flags are neon signs to him now, and it’s pissing him off that he can’t act on his impulse to protect her from Eowells. But Barry also knows that as unhinged as Eowells is…he’ll do anything to save/protect Morgan (for selfish reasons ofc, but still). And Morgan happens to be in danger back home…)

2x18 (the episode where Barry almost catches Zoom, but then Zoom gets Barry to give up his speed…hmm I see some ✨interesting✨ potential here)

2x20 (Barry dying (sorta)?? Morgan having to watch?? Morgan getting pissed at Harry, but also at herself because she and Barry were fighting for a little while before this and never got to resolve things?? And the catharsis is gonna be so sweet and intense too, y’all aren’t ready 🥰)

2x22 (Morgan does something that Barry cherishes forever 💞 also…someone’s powers are sparked 👀)

s3 (in general. I have a whole grand plan for how I’m rewriting s3…and especially how I’m rewriting Savitar. And his dynamic with Morgan…I’m so excited to write it :D)

s4, Crisis X, I forget the episode number (so…listen, I still have to figure out what fixes I’m making to this disaster of a Crisis (Stein won’t be dying, but that’s all I’m sure of rn). What I do know, though, is that Barry and Morgan, and Wally and Iris, will have a brother-sister dance at the Westallen wedding (Wallinda will probably dance at least once there too), and it’ll be great 🥰 and possibly a Morgan and Jesse power swap that happens an episode prior and lasts throughout this crossover, though I still have to iron out those details 😅)

5x18 (this is the s5 backstory episode and…really this is just my way of saying I have a storyline planned out for this future version of Morgan that I’m very excited to share 👀 tho it’ll be revealed in a different way than the show. Events of s5 will be shuffled around a bit)

s6 Crisis (will involve Thawne ofc, and parts of the og 2024 Crisis. It’ll be a fusion of sorts. May also involve the return of someone unexpected…👀 and it’ll also be…quite the emotional rollercoaster for poor Morgan. Also, this is roughly where the AU’s finale is gonna be, so ofc I’m excited for this!)

talk shop tuesday!

Taglist (send an ask or DM to be added or removed):

@arrthurpendragon @ocappreciationtag @raith-way @vexic929 @ironverseocs

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[glitter-stained]

Han Yoojin kidnappings, rated by how much I liked them:

-Saving Myungwoo: 6/10 Is it a kidnapping if you can go in but can't go out? Docked 1 points for ambiguity. Anyways it was pretty smart and cool generally speaking and the rythm was fine. Would have enjoyed more bloodshed but the conclusion with the slave contracts was good karma so I only docked one point for that. Less tension and prep than other kidnappings but it's a minor arc so that's to be expected.

-MKC treason: 7/10. Pretty solid on all acounts (laughing at the kidnapper, good strategy, tragic moments, dramatic irony, berserker mode, cool new powers). Would have been a solid 9, docked two points out of pettiness because I wanted to see the S classes rush in all worried only to find Han Yoojin sitting idly over the corpse of his victims... Wouldn't habe made sense but I would have liked it.

‌-Dragon kidnapping: 3/10. Meh... Honestly the fact that sexual assault against a man was treated as a joke makes me wildly uncomfortable. However, I understand that Han Yoojin's "I am independent, I can handle myself , I have the survival instinct of a lemming I've been through way worst and I am the CG so screw you" personnality would make him reluctant to consider himself a victim when there has been an attempt rather than the crime itself, and that Sung Hynjae and Riette's "I am a complete psychopath" personnalities would make them laugh about it, so at least it's in character... At least Song Taewon was there to be reasonable. Honestly what saved this kidnapping from being a big fat 1 was the presence of dragons... I added one point per dragon because I like dragons.

-‌ into the filial addict's mind: 9/10: again, does it count as kidnapping? Docked one point for ambiguity. Other than that, bloodshed, laughing at your kidnapper, angst, pain, OP battle as a good and unexpected pay off from multiple set-ups, shiny stone eating instincts, cool new powers unlocked, side quest unlocked, plot? This has it all, would have been a certain 10/10.

-‌live auction kidnapping: 10/10, this is brilliant, the dramatic irony, chara dev, charisma, battle, strategy, roleplay, new items, the fire lizard, everything was perfect... I would even add a bonus point because the Christmas light effect is so damned visually pleasing but I'm forcing myself to hold a 10 points ceiling. Marvelous.

[apocalypticavolition]

Let's (re)Read The Great Hunt! Chapter 31: On the Scent

If you're on the scent for spoilers, keep reading! If you don't want to know everything about The Wheel of Time, including the books, show, comics, and card game all compressed into like, a couple thousand words inexplicably, definitely don't keep reading. The second you click that button everything will be psychically uploaded to your brain. I mean uh... something on theme... scentically uploaded to your nose.

We have a rising sun chapter as we're still in Cairhien and Thom's not around.

He gave one abrupt shudder and stopped laughing; she left him to crouch over Hurin.

Another not subtle thing to be doing. It's a good thing these Cairhienien are so politically suspicious that they miss the much greater threat right in front of them.

He said he didn’t know it, but he had a smile that shouted ‘lie’ a mile off.

Perrin could probably smell the lies on the dude before he opened his mouth.

I couldn’t hear what she said, but I didn’t know whether his eyes were going to pop out of his head or he was going to swallow his tongue first.

I'm sure that Verin just did the usual Aes Sedai thing and that the specifics aren't important, but it amuses me to imagine that she just told the dude the truth straight out.

He heard gasps from the Cairhienin listening, but he did not care. They could play their Great Game if they wanted, but Ingtar had come, and he was finished with it at last.

This is called dramatic irony and also counting your chickens before they hatch and whatnot.

Rand glanced at Perrin—He’s a sniffer?—and found Perrin studying him in return. He thought Perrin muttered something. Shadowkiller?

Have you boys tried talking to each other about your-

Nope. Can't even pretend to ask with a straight face.

Everyone was watching now—not even Cuale gave any attention to his own burning inn—and Rand thought a little caution might not be amiss after all.

Exactly Rand. You're surrounded by strangers in an immediate sense and surrounded by Darkfriends in a metaphorical sense. No point celebrating being free just yet.

Suddenly he noticed that the others were looking at him, Verin and Ingtar, Mat and Perrin. He realized what he had been doing, and his face colored. “I am sorry, Ingtar. It’s just that I’ve become used to being in charge, I suppose. I’m not trying to take your place.”

It's fascinating, how this boy has to be dragged kicking and screaming into everything, but once he accepts it he just takes to it instantly. A couple weeks' leadership and the boy completely forgets Ingtar's even there.

You can see why Demandred, Sammael, and Etcetera'al got so pissy.

She’s Moiraine’s eyes watching me, Moiraine’s hand trying to pull my strings. But I have cut the strings.

If only Rand had tried to learn about politics while he was here. He might have realized that Verin knowing things doesn't at all mean she's on Moiraine's side.

I guess that would probably have only made him more suspicious.

Also I forgot to mention her directly when taking these notes but Tiedra's plump so we know she's a good innkeeper.

It almost seemed to him that she was in the room with him, that he could smell her perfume, so much so that he looked around, and laughed to find himself alone.

It wouldn't surprise me at all if she had popped in invisibly somehow.

It was him, he thought. Rand is the Shadowkiller. Light, what’s happening to all of us? His hands tightened into fists, large and square. These hands were meant for a smith’s hammer, not an axe.

The duality that Perrin will be grappling with rears its ugly head. At last he already knows the answer. Though that really just makes his plot arc all the more frustrating.

Also, points to Perrin for pulling off having Rand in his POV instead of what usually happens (thus far in the series) and Rand hogging the spotlight. This isn't the first time this has happened (Egwene did it back in Fal Dara), but it does show the transition this series is slowly undergoing.

One of Mat’s eggs hit the floor and cracked. He did not look at it, though. He was looking at Rand, and Ingtar had turned around.

Mat, the so-called idiot, irresponsible fool: Has a tell about Rand's situation but volunteers nothing and doesn't cause any trouble.

Perrin realized he was staring, too. “Well, he did not fly,” he said. “I don’t see any wings. Maybe he has more important things to tell us.” Verin shifted her attention to him, just for a moment. He managed to meet her eyes, but he was the first to look away.

Perrin, the so-called quiet, responsible kid: Tries to get in a fight with a woman several decades his senior over his friend's honor.

“Interesting,” the Aes Sedai said, a thoughtful expression on her face. “I would very much like to meet this girl. If she can use a Portal Stone. . . . Even that name is not very widely known.”

Verin must suspect. How panicked does this make her?

Rand asked the innkeeper if there were any more books, and she brought him The Travels of Jain Farstrider. Perrin liked that one, too, with its stories of adventures among the Sea Folk and journeys to the lands beyond the Aiel Waste, where silk came from.

Is this our first real Shara reference? I think it might be.

The Shienaran played with a slashing, daring style. Perrin had always played doggedly, giving ground reluctantly, but he found himself placing the stones with as much recklessness as Ingtar. Most of the games ended in a draw, but he managed to win as many as Ingtar did.

Ignore the terrible pun and focus on how Perrin is being shifted by his experiences as well. Perhaps this is why he talked back to Verin earlier.

“There are Darkfriends among the high as well as the low,” Verin said smoothly. “The mighty give their souls to the Shadow as often as the weak.” Ingtar scowled as if he did not want to think of that.

Frankly Verin, if there weren't so few Aes Sedai I'd argue the Tower's horrible percentages make the mighty even more frequent donaters. And indeed note that Ingtar isn't "as if" anything. It's exactly the case that he doesn't want to think about noble Darkfriends.

“I know little of Cairhienin,” Ingtar told him, “but I’ve heard enough of Galldrian. He would feast us and thank us for the glory we had brought to Cairhien. He would stuff our pockets with gold and heap honors on our heads. And if we tried to leave with the Horn, he’d cut our honored heads off without pausing to take a breath.”

It's mind-boggling how actively detrimental to the cause of existence most of the modern day royalty proves to be. Like obviously they need to be toppled from their thrones and all that but damn.

There was a dignity to him that Perrin did not remember; Rand was looking at the Aes Sedai and the Shienaran lord as equals.

Well he's found the Horn of Valere twice now, so he's worthy of being a legendary hero even ignoring all the stuff he hasn't done yet. Selene's flirting sadly helped.

It will also help if you remember the way you behaved before the Amyrlin. If you are that arrogant, they will believe you are a lord if you wear rags.

Lan's training paying off in a dozen ways. He'd be so proud if he were here.

“A sa’angreal.” She sounded as if it were really not very important, but Perrin suddenly had the feeling the two of them had entered a private conversation, saying things no one else could hear.

For example, she's basically telling Rand what tools are available to him.

One by itself is powerful enough, but I can think of few women strong enough to survive the flow through the one on Tremalking. The Amyrlin, of course. Moiraine, and Elaida. Perhaps one or two others. And three still in training.

I guess Verin must think Cadsuane dead, since Lelaine and Romanda would make three if she were being counted. How terrifying that at this very point the White Tower has a total of eight, kind of nine women capable of using the Choedan Kal. It should be so much more.

As for Logain, it would have taken all his strength simply to keep from being burned to a cinder, with nothing left for doing anything.

Unless the male statue is quite different and only ever meant for Lews to use, Verin is very mistaken here. Logain is only a step below Rand, and there's sixteen tiers in between him and Moiraine.

She was talking to Rand. Perrin knew it, and from the queasy look in Mat’s eye, he did, too. Even Loial shifted nervously in his chair.

Thank goodness the empath is the POV to confirm that Loial is not blind or stupid but has in fact put two and two together.

Watching Verin’s smile, small and mysterious, Perrin felt a chill. He did not think Rand knew half what he thought he did. Not half.

Perrin you don't even know half of how right you are.

But we'll get to that next time, when our company visits The Huge Toad Crouching in the Night: Lord Barthanes's Manor! (Disclaimer: Toads may be metaphorical or even simileical)

[thequietmanno1]

Thelreads, MHA 294, Replies Part 1

1) “Last time we had mirio and then Machia went hooonk shiuuuu, because Momo is as badass as we think she is. Now, let us see what shall take place, on Chapter 294: Final Performance”- The closing moments of the arc, and the League’s time together, as one of the Core members prepares himself to leave the spotlight for good…

2) “oh hey look, dead people

that was certainly their last performance, that’s for sure.”- And they won’t be the only ones, if Compress succeeds in getting Tomura out of this Jam the League are currently facing. 3) “WAIT WHY THE FUCK THEY PUTTING GRAN TORINO INTO AN OXYGEN MASK

THAT FUCKER IS DEAD

HE GOT CRUSHED THE FUCK UP AGAINST THE GROUND BY SHIGARAKI AT FULL FORCE, TRUST ME HE IS NOT GONNA NEED THAT MASK”- Well, they did the same for Nighteye after he got shish-ka-bobbed, so I think it’s standard medical practice. Besides, Gran Torino might not be dead – he’s almost certainly paralysed though, with his spine broken clearly in two. If any adult hero survives this war, they’re almost certainly losing a piece of themselves doing so, judging by the count so far. 4) “Yeah Jeanist, but let us not beat around the bush, those people there are dead. Mt lady? Dead. Midnight? dead. Gran Torino? Super Dead. Endeavor? I wish. But perhaps eventually.”- I’m honestly going to start keeping a record of all the adult heroes who’re still alive and in one piece by the end of this series, and I don’t think we’re gonna be breaking the single digits with it. 5) “Yeah, but remember Mirio those are high-ends, they can learn as the fight goes along. The longer the fight goes on, the harder things are gonna become.”- They’re Near-High Ends actually, according to Garaki. The difference seems to be that they have above-average intelligence for a Nomu, but still no sense of true self, and so can’t vocalise or anything like that. Thankfully this means they can’t strategize and are little more than attack animals. Sadly, this means they still have capabilities that are close to the High-Ends’ own, so are still tough and dangerous regardless. 6) “Also, oh my god Ida calling Bakugo by his hero name- I’m still not used to that. And the fact that Bakugo of all people couldn’t come up with a comeback? Jesus, he really is beyond saving, he’s gonna be buried right next to GT”- Things are dire when not even Bakugou’s feral energy can keep him in the fight anymore. 7) “oh dear god Mr Compress is gonna do something to save his pals, isn’t he?

…

OH DEAR GOD THE TITLE OF THE CHAPTER- OH GOD MR COMPRESS YOU BETTER NOT”- I’ve seen people give an arm and a leg to save their pals, but I’ve never seen them give their ass before. 8) “Now tell me Mr compress, couldn’t you compress yourself so you can escape the cables and then just decompress? Surely you could, right? And it won’t require you making a dramatic sacrifice, right?”- I’m honestly uncertain if Compress can compress himself – we’ve never really seen him pull it off as an infiltration tactic before, despite how useful it’d be, and whislt he can do so to the league and pull them back out, he may be incapable of undoing it fro the “inside” so to speak, which would only lead to him suffocating or something. At the very least, he was forced to resort to this more drastic measure instead of self-compressing to evade Jeanist’s wires.

9) “I think you can exclude Dabi from that list, he already did got everything he wanted an- OH MY GOD TOGA IS CRYING”- Sadly, Dabi’s dreams can only be satisfied with maximum suffering inflicted on his family, and everybody else by proxy. And it’s a tragic case of dramatic irony, whilst Compress has sympathy for Dabi’s unfulfilled wishes as a part of the team, and Toga’s own emotional turmoil – and Toga would do the same were the situation reversed – Dabi does not give a crap about either of them, save the usefulness they can provide to him in the frenzied death-match he desires. 10) “Well you better act soon Compress, because Jeanist is getting sick of having to tie you guys up for longer.”- Now his attention’s no longer distracted by Machia, Jeanist is free to ensure the conscious members of the league are no longer left that way whilst the battle is pitching up. The less variable they have to keep track of, the better, and given what Compress does here, despite his lack of overall combat power, it was the right call. 11) “ACTUALLY I’M GETTING MORE WORRIED ABOUT SPINNER DYING BEFORE COMPRESS DOES GOOD LORD MAN I KNOW YOU WANT TO PUT THEM TO SLEEP BUT LOOK AT THAT FACE”- It’s not like Jeanist can accurately track their pulse and breathing from a distance away through the cables,  especially with the chaos erupting around him. The best he can do is focus on not breaking their necks and hoping that they pass out quickly so he can ease up on the pressure…but again, the situation is dire enough that even if Jeanist were to accidently kill them like this, he wouldn’t be blamed or held accountable for it. 12) “OH GOD HE’S NOT GONNA COMPRESS HIMSELF COMPLETELY, RIGHT? JUST A CHUNK OF HIS OWN BODY SO HE CAN ESCAPE THE CABLES

OH GOD NO”- Also a neat attention to detail that Compress can only perform this move on his right side, as that’s the only one with a flesh-and-blood arm remaining, Overhaul’s injury against him further handicapping the league’s chances of success at the crucial moment. 13) “AT LEAST YOU WILL SURVIVE THIS ONE, RIGHT? SURE, YOU’LL BE THE ASSLESS COMPRESS, BUT STILL, YOU’RE NOT GONNA DIE, RIGHT?”- He got them out, but in such a manner that means he himself won’t be able to flee with them – not that they even could overall, with the surrounding heroes mobbing them in an effort to prevent the primary instigators of the war from escaping and rendering the overall point of the conflict null and void. All Compress can do is sacrifice himself to give the others some breathing room, and leave the rest in Spinner’s hands to get Tomura out of there. 14) “HOLY SHIT HE WAS FAST

WELL, HE WAS MORE AERODYNAMIC WITHOUT HIS ASS AFTER ALL. LESS WEIGHT TO BE CARRIED.”-Compress is an under-looked member of the league, but his abilities have always been a source of support for them, giving them an edge with infiltration and similar, along with his observations of the others and accurately judging who needs help the most. In this moment, both the powerhouses of Tomura and Machia have been felled, and Dabi is not interested in lending his aid to the “leader” when his own goals are nearby, yet the support of a weaker, yet genuine team player proves crucial for the League to not completely lose this war. 15) “I’M STARTING TO FEEL LIKE THE ASS IS NOT GOING TO BE THE ONLY THING THAT WILL BE SACRIFICED IN THIS ESCAPE OF HIS”- Sometimes, winning a war comes down to having a person who’s willing to sacrifice more than the enemy in order to score a victory for his side, no matter the cost to him personally. 16) “YES BUT CAN YOU PLEASE DO THAT WITHOUT KILLING YOURSELF PLEASE? TWICE DOESN’T NEED COMPANY RIGHT NOW HE’S FINE”- Desperate times, desperate actions – and yet, the effort put into those actions is undeniable. Compress is no powerhouse fighter, but he’s always been one to lay down his life on the line for the others, which is a quality that Tomura is able to attract in his followers. 17) “That name seems familiar, but I can’t remember from where. Also, is this gonna be a Compress backstory reveal?”- It was name-dropped as one of many noticeable Quirk-users in history by Gentle during his infiltration of UA, desiring to be a standout villain of notoriety similar to him and Re-Destro’s ancestor. Ironically, Gentle actually seems to have more in common with Harima’s methodology than his actual descendant.

18) “Well, I must say, his ancestor must be extremely disappointed with the path he picked then, because what Compress got involved with is a long cry from exposing injustice, if the piles of civilian corpses they left behind those past 20 minutes alone are anything to go by.”- Not unlike Re-Destro’s own past, the legacy of a notable ancestor become twisted and distorted over time, becoming a negative influence on the next generation that guided them down a wrong path when they may have chosen otherwise if left to their own devices. In fact, the same can be said of both Dabi and Tomura’s own pasts as well – many of the league are those whose past histories isolate them from normal society in some manner and drive them together in a common cause in opposition to it, and Compress’ backstory shows how even a well-meaning example like his Robin Hood ancestry can change a man for the worse in trying to emulate that. (MHA ch 291) 19) “Wonder how much a DNA test is worth considering people with Toga’s quirk, who can become another person.”-And a hint towards Compress’ impending reveal, that he too, is one of such a renowned bloodline in their little group. 20) “Oh, not worth the time to kill him if your dad is not up to watch it huh, alright Dabi, can you fuck off then I want to know more about the assless compress”- Some translations I saw said that Endeavour had passed out from the exertion of body-checking Machia unconscious, and Dabi didn’t want to kill Shoto whilst their father wasn’t awake to see it. He’s got a plan in mind for how this fight’s going to play out, and he won’t accept deviations. 21) “THE MASK

IT’S OFF

OH GOD NO AM I READY TO GAZE UPON WHAT MR COMPRESS IS LIKE UNDERNEATH IT? DARE I WITNESS THINGS HUMANKIND WAS NOT MEANT TO KNOW?”- Behold and witness the Hawtness!! 22) “hello?”- Compress had to lose half his cake to balance out his good looks underneath that mask.

23) “Also, he’s the heir of a lineage of vigilantes wanting to fix society and he ended up a super villain trying to bring forth the destruction of it, as well as the genocide of an untold number of innocent people. Ouch Compress, that’s not gonna look good when you get to the pearly gates, your grandpa is gonna fucking kick your ass.”- Even if change is important to fixing society’s flaws, it’s arguably more important to bring about the right kind of change, not destructive anarchy like the League enacts in a short-sighted effort to “fix” things, no matter the good intentions. @thelreads

[the-consortium]

Dear Dr. bile.

It has come to my attention that, at this moment, you might be the oldest astarte in existence, and as such, a solid contender for oldest human in existence (minus the throne's battery pack). So, congrats! Do you still celebrate your birthday? And if so.... Favorite cake flavor?

Lying on his back in bed with one arm raised in dramatic gesticulation, Saqqara finishes his recitation of the enquiry on the datapad - Word Bearers are very good at this. It is in their blood to modulate texts well. He rolls onto his stomach and looks over at Arrian, who has stood up and is jotting down a few spontaneous thoughts on something mechanical (the Diabolist is profusely uninterested in it) in his notebook at the desk in his quarters.

Now he turns, looking at Saqqara. "In that case, your stealing of his correspondence is a blessing. It would upset him a lot again."

Saqqara shrugs "Oh come on. After all, he's been cultivating this 'old man' attitude since the rebellion. But it's not true at all, is it?"

Arrian sorts his Nails over his shoulder, then stands up and walks over to Saqqara. Sinks down on the bed as well. "Older than any of your Legion in any case, after Lorgar thoroughly cleaned up all traces of his Terran sons!" - "That was necessary!" Saqqara's defensively aggressive tone makes it clear that Arrian has once again entered territory too close to the unwavering reverence the Word Bearers have for Lorgar. He therefore drops this particular thread of conversation again, giving Saqqara an apologetic pat on the butt. "The Chief Apothecary is one of the last of the Two Hundred, that's true. Maybe even the last. Quin and Oleander are Terrans too, but joined a few years later. So the eldest of Fulgrim's sons, presumably."

Saqqara recognises sophistry when he hears it. He spots the weak point in the World Eater's guard and immediately takes advantage of it. "Wait a minute! Terra! You're a War Hound! You're that old too!"

Arrian grimaces and the Nails make his cheek twitch in a tic. "Maybe. Maybe not. Definitely born before you were even a glint in your camel-driving father's eye!" - "What's a camel?" - "Not important."

Saqqara is now warming up to the subject and, as usual, is merciless in his enquiries. "After all, your Primarch has you pretty … well, you know what I mean. But a few of the old ones survived, didn't they? You and …? What about Kharn, for example?"

Arrian bares his teeth and another tic twitches across his neck tendons. "Old. Very old. Could rival Fabius. But, and you can take it from me, not an Astartes anymore. Doesn't count." - "Then Ahriman doesn't count either?"

Arrian pushes his lower lip forward, scratches at the base of his Nails. "Good point. Does the sorcerer count? Hard to say. I think he's even older than the Chief Apothecary. After all, the two are remarkably similar in many ways."

Saqqara laughs in amusement. "Don't let him hear that!" - "Who?" - "Both of them!" Arrian joins in Saqqraea's laughter and no one who knows the War Hound otherwise in his sober demeanour would believe how human and detached he behaves in the company of the generally rather strenuous Word Bearer.

They are silent together for a few minutes. Arrian tries to find the energy to get up and resume work.

Finally Saqqara says. "Now what?" - "Huh?" - "The cake!" - "You want to ask him? Good luck with that then. Let's see if you walk out with all your body parts." - "Then I'll just assume something and answer."

Arrian sighs. "Yeah, that sounds like a totally foolproof method. Do that!"

Since sarcasm and irony bounce off most Word Bearers with no consequences whatsoever, Saqqara has no problem taking this as an invitation either.

A few minutes later, while Arrian has already lost himself in his notes on a new explosive device again, Saqqara presses "send" with satisfaction.

"From the desk of the Chief Apothecary of the Emperor's Children. Marble cake. Whipped cream and some candles are appropriate. as is some decoration (Legion colours)"

[rusakkowrites]

For the alphabet asks:

A, B, C, O, W, X

(Reducedv to the most important because I'm on my phone and can't look at the questions while typing...and I can't just say all 26 ;)

Yay, thanks for the ask! <3

A - Ships that you currently like a lot. (They don’t have to be OTPs because not everyone has OTPs.) Friendships, pairings, threesomes, etc. are allowed.

There are many, but my current particular favourites are Emma Woodhouse/George Knightley and Aral Vorkosigan/Cordelia Naismith.

B - A pairing–platonic, romantic or sexual–that you initially didn’t consider, but someone changed your mind.

Caroline Bingley/Colonel Fitzwilliam. I ended up writing it as part of a gift exchange because it was one of my recipient's requests. While I initially treated it more as a fun writing exercise, I gradually grew genuinely invested in the ship.

C - A ship you have never liked and probably never will.

Mary Bennet/Colonel Fitzwilliam. I just can't see it happening based on their book characterisation, and I don't really enjoy out-of-character portrayals in fic. The Colonel likes lively, charming, pretty girls and needs to marry money. Mary is not lively or charming, she is less pretty than her sisters, and she has a very small dowry. And Mary doesn't seem to share her younger sisters' fondness for men in uniform (though admittedly I suspect that she wouldn't be too picky if a respectable man took an interest in her). Putting Mary and the Colonel together feels like pairing the spares with little regard for the characters' canon personalities. No hate for anyone who likes this ship, but it feels a bit too unlikely and contrived to me.

O - Choose a song at random. Which ship or character does it remind you of?

I used a random song generator for this, and it gave me Adventure of a Lifetime by Coldplay. I wasn't previously familiar with the song and didn't immediately get an "omg, it's so this character" feeling from it. After thinking about it a bit, though, I feel like it's actually a pretty good fit for Dag Redwing and Fawn Bluefield from Lois McMaster Bujold's Sharing Knife series. The themes of finding your will to live again and choosing your own path in life certainly fit, as do the mentions of adventures and magic.

W - A trope which you are virtually certain to hate in any fandom.

This is a tough one, because I feel like almost all tropes can be written in a way that I enjoy, though some very rarely are. But if I have to pick one, I'd say the Moustache-Twirling Villain trope, because I find these kinds of one-dimensional, evil-for-the-sake-of-evil villains really boring. I much prefer mundane villains who have realistic motivations (like selfishness, greed or the like).

X - A trope which you are almost certain to love in any fandom.

Does dramatic irony count as a trope? Well, I'm counting it anyway. I love when the reader knows more than the characters and can enjoy watching the events unfold (or suffer from the unbearable suspense of knowing that the characters are about to royally mess up).

[pauls1967moustache]

So for the girl Paul AU, does John still go to Barcelona w Brian? What does Paul think of that? Is there a Tara Browne or Robert Fraser in this universe? Like other men Paul makes connections with?

John goes to Barcelona and she’s still jealous because this is an aspect of John’s relationship with Brian where she obviously can’t compete, and she doesn’t like the idea of the two of them making plans without her. Idk if she’d be jealous about them fucking. Maybe it feels less like a threat because she’s having gay sex too and it’s not like that counts (<- dramatic irony).

But I feel like she and Brian have a similarly contentious relationship in the end like they did in real life. I like the idea that because she knows he respects her and supports her she kind of takes her anger about her mistreatment in the music industry out on him sometimes, but because he lets her and she feels bad she also agrees to things like wearing a skirt if he thinks it’s a good idea.

I like the idea of her hooking up with Tara Browne tbh but I also like the idea that she only hooked up with John so idk. I’m split on it. But Tara representing the same sort of freedom of being someone outside of the Beatles framework is fun. And why not? It would make John jealous and Tara’s pretty.

She and Robert develop a delightful fag and hag relationship, and Paul likes to stoke rumours that they’re dating to the journalists who aren’t “In The Know” because she thinks it’s funny. This is the only time she plays into dating rumours.