#man I am SO EXCITED to finally publish this first part!!!

[2isted-chocol8-art]

Thanks, Spinel. I'm sure that helped.

I'm really excited to post this small collaboration @tippertot and I are working on! If this comic has excellent dialogue and amazing writing it's thanks to her ♡

This comic is set in my Out Of The Loop AU. Yup, all the previous comics happened right before this one. But now instead of cuddles, Hatchy is getting some ugly feelings. Woops.

-> More Outer Wilds Art!

[dreamersparacosm]

jeon jungkook - under the checkered flag (part two)

warnings ; none! this is a slowburn, people.

prompt ; in which a girl who doesn’t believe in risks takes the biggest one of all—falling for a man who lives for the thrill.

note ; guys. i am publishing this early bc i simply could not help myself and yall are showing it so much love so i appreciate u <3 however i am trustfrated bc i need reader and jk to do the nasty already… anywho….

playlist here

series masterlist here

There’s a strange comfort in being alone. The quiet hum of your thoughts, the solitude of your space — it’s always been enough. You’ve never needed much beyond your own company, always content to exist on the sidelines of life, watching from a distance. It’s not loneliness, not really. It’s peace. The steady rhythm of your own routine, the safe predictability of your introverted nature. You’ve always been this way, happy with a book, a cup of tea, and the certainty that you control your own space, your own time. The world is full of noise, of excitement, of chaos, but you’ve always been content to observe it, never fully immersing yourself in the rush of it all.

But somehow, despite the certainty you find in this solitude, you find yourself texting Jungkook again and again, throughout the workweek. His messages come more often than you expect, each one lighter, more flirtatious than the last, pulling you into a conversation you didn’t anticipate but can’t seem to avoid. At first, it was just curiosity, a brief response to his persistent charm. But now, you find yourself checking your phone more than you’d like, your fingers hovering over his name. There’s something about his energy, the way he flirts effortlessly, that draws you in, like a magnet you didn’t realize you were attracted to until you couldn’t step away.

And yet, every time he suggests a date, every time he tries to take things further, you hesitate. Not because you’re not attracted to him.. because you are. It’s impossible not to feel the pull of someone like him. His presence is undeniable, his confidence infectious. But there’s a part of you that recoils, that can’t bear to give in to the excitement he brings. The thought of being entangled in his world is a world you can’t let yourself slip into. You’ve always stayed on the edge, always kept your feet firmly planted in the world you know, where things don’t change with the speed of a car zooming down a racetrack.

Every time his texts arrive, filled with playful invitations and gentle teasing, you feel the tug in your chest. But you resist. You have to resist. You can’t let yourself fall for someone who lives a life so far removed from yours, someone who thrives in a world you’ll never belong to. So, you reply with reluctance, your words polite but distant, never giving him the confirmation he’s looking for. You don’t need the chaos. Not now. Not ever.

And yet, something in you wonders: what would it feel like to step outside of your comfort zone? What would it feel like to let go of the walls you’ve carefully built around yourself?

So, you humor yourself. You keep him around.

Jungkook:
"So, what’s your big plan for today? Got any exciting things happening in your peaceful, quiet life?"

You:
"Nothing exciting. Just the usual—work, paperwork, more work."

Jungkook:
"Sounds thrilling.

What about after work? You doing anything exciting then?"

You:
"Probably just go home and binge-watch something. I'm crazy like that."

Jungkook:
"Binge-watching? You’re really selling me on this quiet life.

But hey, if you change your mind, I know a place with great food and zero drama. You in?"

You:
"I don’t know… might just be too much excitement for me."

Jungkook:
"Ah, I see. The 'too much excitement' excuse.

You:
"Haha.”

Jungkook:
“Maybe you could teach me a thing or two about enjoying the quiet."

You:
"I could try... but no promises."

After days of back-and-forth, playful teasing, and persistent messages, you finally give in. It’s not a date, you tell yourself. It’s just dinner. Dinner between two people who text each other more than they probably should. But still, the thought of it sits uneasily in your chest. The idea of stepping into Jungkook’s world, even just for one evening, feels like walking onto a stage you’re not sure you belong on.

You tap your fingers on your desk, glancing at your phone as the confirmation message from Jungkook pops up. “Can’t wait to see you tonight.”

You try to force yourself to focus on work, your heart a little heavier than usual, the weight of the evening ahead bearing down on you. You can’t let yourself think too much about it. He’s just another person, right? Another person who’s persistent, maybe a little too charming, but nothing to be afraid of.

At least, that’s what you tell yourself.

The workday drags on, like it always does, predictable as ever. You glance at your phone again, and this time, instead of the usual teasing, you read something more direct from Jungkook. “So excited. Don’t forget, it’s just dinner. No pressure, okay?”

You roll your eyes a little, feeling a strange mixture of relief and apprehension. No pressure? Right. As if that’s possible with someone like him.

Jisoo is already on her usual routine of bouncing around with too much energy. She spots you as soon as she walks through the door after her lunch break and practically keels over with excitement.

“Tell me everything!” she demands, leaning over your desk with a huge grin. “Are you going or not? What did he say? Did you finally agree to dinner?”

You pause for a moment, trying to keep your voice steady. “It’s not a big deal. It’s just dinner. We text a lot, so... I figured why not?”

Jisoo’s eyes widen, her excitement spilling over in a way that only she can manage. “Just dinner? No, no, no—this is a big deal. You’re going out with Jeon Jungkook. You know, the guy who practically owns the racing world and has models and celebrities lining up for him. This is huge! You can’t pretend like this isn’t something.”

She leans in, her voice lowering to a dramatic whisper. “Do you like him?”

You shift uncomfortably, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. “It’s just dinner,” you repeat, trying to sound confident, though you know it’s not convincing. “We’re not... anything. Just two people who happen to text each other.”

But Jisoo isn’t having it. “Sure, sure. Just two people who text all the time. If that’s how you wanna play it.”

You try to brush it off, but she’s already grabbing her laptop, her fingers flying over the keys as she pulls something up. “You know he’s not just some random guy, right?” she says, clicking away on the screen. “He’s Jeon Jungkook. The Jeon Jungkook. Always in the news, always dating the hottest models and actresses.”

She spins the laptop toward you, and your stomach drops as you glance at the headlines on the screen.

“Jeon Jungkook Spotted with Top Model, Sparks Dating Rumors.”
“Jungkook and Celebrity Couple Call It Quits After ‘Toxic’ Relationship.”
“Racer Jungkook and A-List Actress Enjoy Weekend Getaway Together.”

You feel a pit form in your stomach as you scroll through the headlines. Every article, every story paints him as the ultimate playboy, always surrounded by beautiful women, his love life a constant subject of media attention.

Your heart skips a beat as the realization sinks in. The thought of him, the real him, the man behind the fast cars and the flashing cameras, makes you hesitate.

What would you be doing on a date with him? What could you be to someone like him? Someone who’s always surrounded by perfection, by people who fit into his world of wealth and fame. You’re not that person. You’ve never been that person, and you don’t think you could ever be.

Jisoo leans back in her chair, watching you closely. “What’s going on? You’ve gone quiet. He’s clearly into you. And you’re obviously into him.. he wouldn’t be texting you this much if he wasn’t. You’re not going to let this chance slip away, are you?”

You don’t know how to answer. Your mind is already racing, your thoughts whirling with the images of Jungkook — his charm, his playboy reputation, his world. A world you have no place in.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

The quiet of your apartment feels heavier than usual as you stand in front of the mirror, applying the last touches of makeup. The room is calm, but your mind is anything but. Every time you close your eyes, all you can see is Jungkook; his smile, his confidence, the way he looked when he walked into the VIP box. That pull, that unexpected attraction, it’s there, undeniable. But then, Jisoo’s words echo in your mind. The articles, the headlines, the endless list of women who had come and gone from his world — your world now, for the night, but likely not much longer.

You apply a dab of foundation, but it doesn’t seem to matter. You’re distracted, too distracted by the nagging voice in the back of your head. The voice that keeps reminding you of who he is, who he always is. A man who’s constantly in the press, surrounded by models, actresses, and headlines.

You tell yourself it’s just a casual meal, no pressure, no expectations. But you don’t believe it. Not really.

The silence of the apartment is broken by the faint buzz of your phone. You glance at it, hesitating for just a second before unlocking it. It’s TMZ, one of the countless gossip outlets that you’ve been skimming through all evening. You even turned on post notifications for his name.

Jungkook spotted with new celebrity, who’s next? You scroll, heart pounding, seeing pictures of him with various famous women, flashing their bright smiles at the camera as if the world is watching them fall in love. You swipe through articles on People, on entertainment blogs, seeing him with someone new every few weeks.

He’s always surrounded by them. The thought is impossible to shake. It’s a pattern, one you can’t ignore, one that only grows clearer as you scroll through each new piece of gossip. It’s like the world expects him to be with someone new every week. And yet, here you are, about to meet him for dinner, acting like you’re somehow special, somehow different from all the women who’ve come before you.

You let out a soft, frustrated sigh, but there’s no stopping it now. Your thumb keeps moving, clicking through one article after another. You see him with an actress, laughing over dinner. Another model, posing with him on a yacht. It’s endless, the parade of beautiful women who have come and gone in his life. And with each new article, you feel more and more like you’re out of place, like you’ll be just another name on the list.

But despite it all, there’s a part of you that can’t stop, can’t tear your eyes away from the screen. What would it be like to be the one who stays, instead of the one who’s replaced?

You push the thought away and focus on the mirror again, the reflection staring back at you looking more unsure than you’ve ever felt. It’s too late to back out now. You haven’t even given yourself a chance to. The time is ticking down, and you don’t want to cancel, not after agreeing to it. After all, it’s just dinner, right?

But the more you think about it, the harder it feels to convince yourself that it’s truly no big deal. He’s not the kind of guy you need in your life, you remind yourself, but the words feel hollow, like you’re trying to convince someone else.

Your phone buzzes again, this time with a message from Jungkook: “Almost there! It’s going to be fun.” The words are simple, but they feel like they’re carrying so much more weight than you want them to.

You glance at your reflection once more, taking in the slightly flushed cheeks and the nervous smile you force yourself to wear. It’s going to be fine. It’s just dinner. Nothing to worry about.

You grab your purse, give yourself one last look, and take a deep breath. The night ahead may be full of uncertainty, but there’s nothing you can do about it now.

He’s clearly been well-raised, evident when he rolls up to your house and texts you that he’s arrived, with no rush whatsoever. It’s a shame he’s so mannered. Makes it harder to hate him.

The sleek black Lamborghini pulls up in front of your building, its engine purring like a lion waiting to sprint. The headlights flicker, and the engine cuts off as the door opens, revealing Jungkook. He steps out with his usual confidence, looking effortlessly put together in a bomber jacket, his casual yet polished style almost too perfect to ignore. For a second, it feels like a scene out of a movie; a world where people like him belong, and people like you… well, you barely know how to navigate it.

You walk down the steps, your heart rate quickening as he notices you. His eyes brighten, his lips curling into that same irresistible smile that you’ve become too familiar with through the screen of your phone. He steps closer, offering his hand, his gaze lingering on you like he’s seeing you for the first time all over again.

“Wow,” he murmurs, his voice low but sincere. “You look... incredible.”

You feel the heat rise to your cheeks at the words, the compliment landing harder than you expected. You force yourself to maintain composure, but there’s no hiding the sudden wave of shyness that crashes over you. “Thank you,” you murmur, feeling small under the weight of his gaze. His eyes flicker down the length of your outfit, his approval written all over his face.

The car door opens, and Jungkook motions for you to get in. You hesitate just a moment, the overwhelming contrast between your world and his making you feel like you’re stepping into an entirely new dimension. But before you can second-guess yourself, you slide into the plush interior, the leather seats as soft as they look, the scent of expensive cologne and faint traces of him filling the air. He slides in next to you, the door shutting with a quiet thud.

Immediately, he glances over at you again, his gaze lingering, as if taking in every detail of your appearance. “I don’t know if you know this, but you’re seriously beautiful.” His words are easy, casual, but they hit you like a ton of bricks, and you’re not sure how to respond.

You look away, feeling the heat in your cheeks intensify. “Thanks, but you don’t have to keep saying that,” you mumble, trying to brush it off.

He chuckles softly, clearly enjoying the effect he’s having on you. “I can’t help it,” he says, his voice playful. “You look amazing. Seriously.”

The car starts moving, the hum of the engine filling the silence between you as he drives. The city lights blur past the windows, but you barely notice them, your mind too focused on the man beside you, the constant warmth of his presence, and the way he keeps sneaking glances at you.

“So,” Jungkook says, his tone shifting a little, like he’s genuinely interested. “Tell me about your day. You said you work in corporate finance, right?”

You shift in your seat, suddenly feeling more self-conscious. You don’t typically talk about work unless you have to, but there’s something about the way he asks, so casually, so curious, that makes you want to open up. “Yeah, just… the usual stuff,” you reply, trying to sound casual. “Meetings, spreadsheets, presentations. It’s mostly numbers and data.”

Jungkook listens intently, but he can’t seem to stop glancing at you, his gaze flicking from the road to you every few seconds, as if he’s unable to tear his eyes away. You feel both flattered and awkward at the same time. It’s hard to ignore the way he watches you, as though you’re the most interesting thing in the world.

“You’re not a fan of the whole corporate scene, are you?” he says with a small smile, almost like he’s teasing you, but there’s something kind in his voice. “Seems like you’d rather be somewhere else.”

“I don’t mind it,” you reply softly, your eyes glued to the window now, hoping to hide the anxiety in your expression. “It’s just… it’s predictable. It’s easy. You know what to expect.”

Jungkook hums in thought, his gaze never fully leaving you. “And what about you? What’s the real you like? The one behind all the spreadsheets and numbers?” He asks, his voice dropping lower, like he’s waiting for you to give him a piece of yourself that no one else sees.

You hesitate, caught off guard by the question. It’s not that you don’t want to answer, but something about him makes it feel different—more intimate. You glance at him, catching his eyes for a moment before quickly looking away. “I guess I’m just... quiet. I like being on my own.”

“I can see that,” he says softly, glancing at you for another split second before focusing back on the road. “But you’re not so shy, are you? I feel like there’s more to you than you’re letting on.”

Your breath catches slightly at the challenge in his voice, and you glance over at him, caught off guard by how easily he reads you. You’re not used to this, not used to someone peeling back your layers without asking for permission. It feels strange and oddly comforting, but you push it aside, trying to hide your nervousness.

You laugh softly, trying to downplay it. “I’m just... not great at this. Talking. In person.” Your voice trails off, and you quickly glance out the window, hoping the coolness of the outside air will help you regain your composure. “I’m better with emails. Or texts.”

Jungkook’s smile is effortless, that teasing glint in his eyes never leaving as he glances at you again. “I don’t know, I think you’re doing just fine so far. It’s cute, actually. You’re like... one of those quiet but interesting types.” His tone is light, teasing, but there’s something deeper in the way he looks at you. It makes your heart race, and you suddenly feel the weight of his gaze, warm and persistent.

“I’m not interesting,” you mutter, a slight shrug escaping your shoulders. “Just quiet and boring, really.”

He chuckles, and you can’t help but feel that little flutter in your chest as the sound fills the space between you. “Boring? I don’t think so. You might surprise yourself.”

You shake your head, turning back to the window, your mind buzzing with his words. “You think? I don’t know, I kinda like the boring side of me,” you say softly, not looking at him but hoping he hears the hint in your voice.

He doesn’t respond immediately, and for a moment, there’s only the hum of the engine, the city lights flickering past in a blur. But then, his voice breaks the silence again, softer this time. “I think you’d be surprised.”

You glance back at him, catching that hint of something deeper in his expression—a mix of curiosity and understanding that makes you feel like he sees right through your walls. It’s unsettling and comforting all at once.

Before you can say anything else, the car slows to a stop, pulling up in front of a restaurant that takes your breath away. It’s one of those places you’ve heard about but never thought you’d actually step foot in—a sleek, modern building with huge glass windows that gleam under the city lights. The sign outside is simple, elegant, just the name of the restaurant in delicate gold lettering: Le Jardin.

The valet opens your door before you can even process it, and Jungkook steps out, offering his hand to help you out of the car. You take it, your fingers brushing his for a moment, and you can feel the spark of electricity between you. He flashes you that signature grin, his eyes never leaving yours. Really, you’re about to melt into the asphalt and become one with the concrete. “This place doesn’t mess around,” he says, a playful note in his voice. “Hope you’re ready.”

You look up at the restaurant, the smooth, minimalist design contrasting against the sprawling city skyline behind it. The entrance is framed by soft lighting, the large doors welcoming you into an atmosphere that feels both exclusive and comfortable at the same time. There’s a buzz of excitement coming from inside—the soft hum of conversation, the clinking of glasses, and a faint trace of delicious aromas drifting out to meet you.

“Wow,” you whisper, caught off guard by how beautiful it all is. “This is... really nice.”

Jungkook smiles, stepping a little closer as he opens the door for you. “I thought you deserved something a little special. Don’t worry, the food’s good too,” he adds, his tone light but warm.

As you step inside, you’re greeted by the soft sound of a live jazz band in the corner, their music floating through the air like a melody meant only for tonight. The decor is understated yet luxurious—dark wood paneling, golden accents, and soft lighting that makes everything feel intimate and quiet. The hostess leads you to a private table by the window, where the view of the city sprawls out in front of you, the lights below twinkling like stars.

Jungkook pulls out your chair for you, and you sit down, feeling a little lost in the grandeur of it all. You glance at him, and he’s already looking at you, that same easy smile on his lips.

“I figured you’d need a place to relax,” he says, his voice a little quieter now, the teasing tone replaced by something softer. “Just you, me, and a good meal. No pressure.”

You can’t help but smile, a little shy but grateful for the unexpected ease that seems to settle around you both.

The restaurant hums softly around you, the gentle clinking of glasses and low murmur of conversations filling the space, but somehow, it feels like you and Jungkook exist in a quiet pocket of your own.

The candlelight flickers between you, casting soft shadows across his face, highlighting the sharp cut of his jaw, the dark glint in his eyes that never seems to waver. He looks comfortable here, like he belongs anywhere he goes, his presence effortless and magnetic.

“Okay,” Jungkook says, leaning forward slightly, resting his elbow on the table, his chin balanced on his hand. “Tell me something about you that no one else knows.”

You pause, caught off guard. “No one?”

He smirks. “Fine, maybe not no one, but something that most people wouldn’t guess about you.”

You hesitate, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as you glance down at your silverware. “I don’t know… I’m not exactly full of surprises.”

“I don’t believe that for a second,” he counters easily. “Come on. Something small. Like… do you have a weird talent? A guilty pleasure? Do you secretly love something embarrassing?”

You huff a small laugh, playing with the stem of your wine glass that is being filled with white wine by a waiter who avoids all eye contact. “I mean… I guess I really like puzzles?”

Jungkook raises an eyebrow, intrigued. “Like jigsaw puzzles?”

You nod, a little sheepish. “Yeah. I find them relaxing.”

A grin tugs at his lips. “So while other people unwind with a drink, you sit in a quiet room putting little pieces of a puzzle together?”

You roll your eyes. “It’s not that weird.”

He chuckles, eyes dancing with amusement. “I didn’t say it was weird. I just… wasn’t expecting it.”

You tilt your head. “What were you expecting?”

Jungkook leans back slightly, tapping his fingers against his glass. “I don’t know. Something more… high maintenance.”

You blink. “High maintenance?”

He shrugs, smirking. “You work in corporate finance, you always look put together, and you don’t exactly let people in easily. I figured maybe your version of unwinding would be something a little more... extravagant.”

You scoff. “Like what? Spa weekends? Shopping sprees?”

Jungkook shrugs again, playful. “Maybe. Or maybe something ridiculously expensive. Like, I don’t know… collecting rare wines?”

You shake your head with a laugh. “I think I’m way less interesting than you think I am.”

“Disagree,” he says smoothly, watching you intently. “I think you just don’t realize how intriguing you are.”

You feel the heat creep up your neck, caught between embarrassment and the sickening effect his words have on you. “You’re exaggerating.”

“I’m really not,” he murmurs, still studying you like he’s trying to figure you out. “You’re quiet, but it’s not because you don’t have things to say. You just choose when to say them.”

You swallow, suddenly feeling exposed, like he’s seeing right through you. “That’s not a bad thing, is it?”

He shakes his head. “No. I like it.”

Your breath hitches slightly, and you glance away, needing a moment to collect yourself. “Your turn,” you say quickly, shifting the attention back to him. “Tell me something most people wouldn’t guess about you.”

Jungkook hums, considering. “Most people think I love being around crowds. That I thrive on attention.”

You glance at him. “And you don’t?”

He exhales, swirling his drink slightly. “I mean, I don’t hate it. But I like being alone more than people think.”

That surprises you. “Really?”

He nods. “When you’re always surrounded by people, you start to crave silence. After races, I go to the afterparty, make my appearances. But then I go home, sit on my couch, and watch movies.” He smirks. “Or maybe I’d do a puzzle, if I had any.”

You laugh, rolling your eyes. “Now that I’d like to see.”

Jungkook leans forward again, resting his arms on the table. “What about you? Do you like being alone?”

You hesitate, then nod. “I do. I’ve always been that way. I think I just… feel more at ease when I don’t have to think about how I come across to people.”

Jungkook studies you for a long moment, then tilts his head. “So why’d you agree to dinner with me?”

You freeze slightly, caught in the directness of his question.

He smirks. “I mean, if you like being alone so much, what made you finally say yes?”

You glance down at your full wine glass, biting your lip. “I don’t know,” you admit. “I guess I was curious.”

Jungkook grins. “Curious about me?”

You exhale, shaking your head. “Don’t let it get to your head.”

He chuckles, watching you for a moment before his voice drops just a little. “I’m glad you did.”

You meet his gaze, and for a second, the air between you feels charged, heavy with something unsaid.

You clear your throat, taking a sip of wine, letting the cool liquid slide down your burning throat. “I’m still trying to figure you out, though.”

Jungkook tilts his head. “And?”

“You’re not what I expected,” you admit softly, stirring your wine glass idly between your fingers.

Jungkook leans forward slightly, tilting his head. “What did you expect?”

You hesitate, your shyness creeping back in. “I don’t know,” you murmur. “Someone more… I guess I assumed you’d be a little arrogant, maybe a little full of yourself.”

His lips curve into a lazy smile. “And I’m not?”

You bite your lip, suppressing a small laugh. “Okay, maybe a little.”

Jungkook chuckles, resting his forearm on the table as he watches you. “You know, most people don’t say things like that to me.”

You shrug, swirling the wine in your glass. “Most people probably don’t think you’d care what they really think.”

He studies you for a moment, something unreadable flickering in his expression. “And what about you?”

You glance up at him. “What about me?”

He leans in just slightly, his voice quieter now, as if drawing you into something more private, more profound. “Do you think I care what you think?”

Your heart stumbles over itself, caught in the weight of his gaze. He’s been watching you all night, but this feels different—like he’s really trying to pull something from you, something you’re not used to sharing.

You break eye contact, reaching for your wine, taking a slow sip to steady yourself. The warmth of the alcohol buzzes through you, loosening your nerves, making you feel a little braver than before.

You exhale, setting the glass down. “I think…” You pause, then glance at him, suddenly emboldened. “I think I still don’t understand why you’re here.”

Jungkook raises an eyebrow. “At a restaraunt?”

“With me.”

His smile is immediate, slow and knowing. “Ah.”

You narrow your eyes slightly at his expression. “What?”

He smirks, swirling his own drink. “You’ve been thinking about that a lot, huh?”

Your face warms instantly. “I—”

“It’s okay.” He leans back against his chair, watching you with that same playful glint in his eyes. “I like that you’re curious.”

You huff, slightly embarrassed but pushing forward. “I just don’t get it,” you admit, feeling the wine soften your usual hesitations. “You could be having dinner with anyone. You do have dinner with everyone.”

His expression flickers, but he doesn’t seem surprised by the comment. “Ah,” he hums, taking a sip of his drink. “So you’ve been researching.”

You freeze.

Jungkook grins, tilting his head. “Did a little deep dive on me, huh?”

You immediately shake your head, your face burning. “No! I mean—” You falter, knowing full well you’ve skimmed far too many articles in the past twenty-four hours. “I just—my coworker Jisoo showed me some stuff, and then I might have—”

“Scrolled through Twitter?” he finishes for you, his smirk widening.

You groan, covering your face with your hands. “I knew you were going to tease me for this.”

Jungkook laughs, rich and warm. “I mean, I was wondering if you saw all that. I’d be naive not to.” He pauses, studying you. “And? Did you like what you read?”

You lower your hands slowly, glaring at him. “I think ‘like’ is the wrong word.”

His lips twitch. “Fair.”

You hesitate for a moment, then take another sip of wine, gathering the courage to ask the real question that’s been gnawing at you. “Is it true?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Which part?”

“The models. The celebrities. All of it.”

Jungkook doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he studies you for a moment, fingers lightly tracing the rim of his glass. His expression softens, and when he finally speaks, his voice is quieter than before.

“I’ve gone out with people,” he admits, his gaze steady on yours. “But I think people like to assume more than what’s real.”

You frown slightly. “So it’s all fake?”

“Not all of it.” He shrugs. “But it’s easy for people to turn a casual dinner into a ‘secret romance.’ People like stories. They like the fantasy of it all.”

You absorb his words, letting them settle.

“And what about this?” you ask, gesturing between the two of you. “Is this just another story?”

Jungkook smiles, but this time, it’s softer, more thoughtful. “I don’t know yet,” he says honestly. “But I knew I wanted to see you again.”

You feel your breath hitch slightly at his words, at the way he says them so easily, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Like you being here, across from him, means something.

You shake your head slightly, exhaling. “So how did you even get my name?”

He grins, leaning forward slightly, his voice playful again. “You really want to know?”

“Yes?”

His grin widens. “I have my ways.”

You groan. “That’s not an answer.”

He chuckles. “Let’s just say I’m good at finding what I want.”

You swallow hard at that, looking away, feeling like the room is suddenly a little warmer.

Jungkook watches you, his gaze lingering, but he doesn’t push. Instead, he picks up his glass, tilts it slightly toward you. “Now, tell me. Did any of your research make you want to cancel dinner with me?”

You hesitate, your fingers playing with the stem of your glass.

“…I thought about it,” you admit.

Jungkook smirks. “And yet, you came. Here you are.”

Your lips press together as you shake your head, exhaling a quiet laugh. “Yeah,” you say, glancing up at him. “Here I am.”

His smile deepens, and for the first time tonight, you feel like you’ve fallen into something you might not be able to climb out of. Your stomach flips at the way he looks at you, like he’s letting you in on something no one else gets to see.

And there is a real reason you’re like this, why you operate the way you do. Why you keep your distance, why you hesitate to let anyone in. You’ve only ever been with one person before—your first everything. First love, first kiss, first heartbreak. The kind of first that marks you in ways you can’t quite explain, leaves an imprint on you no matter how much time passes. He was steady, familiar, someone who made sense in the quiet, predictable life you’d built for yourself. And maybe that’s why it hurt when it ended—because you had given so much of yourself to something that didn’t last.

You tell yourself it’s better this way, to keep your heart guarded, to never let anyone close enough to leave a mark. And that’s exactly why this—whatever this is—with Jungkook, can’t happen. You know that. But somehow, sitting across from him, feeling the way his eyes linger on you, the way he makes you feel seen in a way you haven’t in so long—it’s hard to remind yourself of all the reasons why you should walk away.

But you will.

You have to.

The night begins to wind down, the warmth of the meal settling in your stomach, the haze of wine softening the usual sharp edges of your thoughts. Jungkook waves over the waiter before you can even think about reaching for your purse, handing over his black card with an ease that reminds you just how different your worlds are.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you murmur, fiddling with the napkin in your lap.

He smirks. “I did actually. It’s part of my plan.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Your plan?”

Jungkook leans forward slightly, his voice dipping lower. “Yeah. Impress you just enough to get you to agree to see me again.”

Your breath halts slightly, pausing on an inhale, but before you can react, the waiter returns with his receipt, and just like that, dinner is over.

As you both stand, your heart does a slow tumble in your chest, reality seeping back in now that the night is drawing to a close. This was supposed to be a simple dinner—just one meal, one conversation. But as you follow Jungkook toward the entrance, something inside you tightens. Maybe it’s because you know this isn’t your world, that stepping into it, even just for one evening, is already dangerous enough.

And then you see them.

Flashes of light. Cameras. Figures moving just beyond the glass doors. Paparazzi.

Your stomach drops.

Jungkook notices immediately, his hand hovering slightly near your back as you freeze in place. “Hey,” he says softly, barely above a whisper. “You okay?”

You can’t move, can’t breathe. You knew who he was, knew what being near someone like him meant, but seeing it like this—seeing people waiting just to capture you walking out of a restaurant with him—it makes something tighten in your chest.

“I—” Your voice comes out too soft, unsteady. Your fingers curl slightly at your sides.

Jungkook doesn’t hesitate. He catches onto your panic immediately.

“Come on.” His voice is calm, steady. He reaches for your wrist, his touch light but firm, guiding you before you can overthink it. “We’ll go out the back.”

You don’t argue, don’t even process what’s happening until you’re suddenly being pulled through the dimly lit kitchen, past startled chefs and waiters who barely give Jungkook a second glance—like they’re used to this, like it’s just another night.

Your feet move quickly to keep up, your heart hammering in your chest. The scent of garlic and seared meat lingers in the air, the faint clatter of pans somewhere behind you. Jungkook maneuvers through the space like he’s done this a hundred times before, like avoiding cameras is just another part of his routine.

Then—he pauses, and you nearly bump into his broad shoulders.

The alley exit is just ahead, but the hallway narrows, and as another kitchen staff member passes by with a heavy tray, Jungkook instinctively moves closer to you.

Too close.

Your back brushes against the cold steel countertop behind you, and suddenly, there’s barely any space left between you. His hand is still wrapped loosely around your wrist, his body angled slightly toward yours.

You can feel him. The warmth radiating off his skin, the steady rise and fall of his chest, the way his dark eyes flicker down to yours.

You’re suddenly hyperaware of everything—the weight of his palm, the way his fingers flex slightly, the faint scent of cologne wrapping around you like a trap you don’t know how to escape from.

Jungkook doesn’t say anything at first. Just looks at you, watches the way your breathing has shifted, the way your lips part slightly like you’re about to say something but can’t seem to find the words.

“You’re fidgeting,” he finally murmurs, his voice low, almost amused.

You swallow hard, not trusting yourself to respond.

His gaze drops for just a second—to the way your fingers curl against the counter behind you, to the way your chest rises with each breath. And then—slowly—his eyes meet yours again. “You nervous?”

Your face burns. “No.”

Jungkook smiles, just slightly, like he doesn’t believe you at all. Honestly, you don’t even believe yourself. He must be delusional to think you wouldn’t be antsy in a ten-mile radius of him.

You clear your throat, suddenly desperate to move, to create distance, but your body betrays you, frozen in place. He hasn’t let go of your wrist yet, but his touch is light now, lingering rather than leading.

“You okay?” His voice is softer now, lacking the teasing edge from before.

You exhale shakily, finally managing to break the tension by stepping to the side, out of his hold. “Yeah,” you murmur, not sounding convincing at all. “Just… not used to this.”

Jungkook nods, like he understands. “You will be.”

You blink up at him, startled by his response. “What makes you so sure?”

He tilts his head, smirking. “Because I’m not planning on this being the last time I take you to dinner.”

Your stomach flips violently.

Before you can respond, he pushes open the exit door, leading you out into the cool night air, away from the flashing cameras. You savor the below freezing temperature, shocking you out of how down bad you are, like someone just splashed cold water on you and told you to get it together.

But even as you step outside, even as you breathe in the crisp air and try to collect yourself, you know one thing for certain.

You don’t know what you’re getting into—Jeon Jungkook is dangerous.

And not just because of the cameras. But because of the fact that your heart is racing and all he’s doing is holding your wrist.

The night air is crisp as Jungkook leads you toward the valet attendant waiting for you two with his sleek car parked by the curb. He pulls some cash out of his wallet, handing it to him as the valet stands by the door. Ever the gentlemen, Jungkook pulls the car door open for you. There’s something so effortless about the way he moves, the way he guides you inside with the smallest touch at the small of your back. It should be intimidating—the way he commands space, the way he knows he has a presence. But it isn’t.

It’s something else.

Something that makes your stomach twist, something that makes your thoughts run faster than you can keep up with.

You slide into the car, the leather seats cool beneath you, the city lights reflecting off the tinted windows. Jungkook settles in beside you, his presence filling the space between you, even though he keeps a respectable distance. The car door shuts, and he pulls away from the restaurant, the hum of the engine smooth against the quiet tension that lingers in the air.

Jungkook shifts slightly, resting his arm against the console, other hand extended towards the wheel. He’s glancing at you again, the way he always does—with curiosity, with something unreadable flickering behind his dark eyes.

“So,” he says, his voice low, intimate in the enclosed space. “When do I get to see you again?”

The question is easy, natural, as if it’s already decided. As if this—whatever the flying fuck this is—is already something that’s meant to continue.

You swallow, fingers curling slightly against your lap.

Now, see, this is the part you were afraid of.

Because no matter what he says, no matter how genuine he sounds, you know he’s good at this. You’ve read the articles, seen the photos. You know the patterns. And even if he doesn’t mean to, even if he thinks this is something different—he is still who he is.

He is Jeon Jungkook.

And you… you are just you.

Your pulse flutters uneasily. “Jungkook…”

He tilts his head, waiting.

You exhale softly, forcing yourself to look over at him. “I’m not really… ready to be with anyone right now.”

The words feel strange as they leave your lips, because they’re not entirely true. You could be with someone. You could let yourself get close. But it isn’t anyone you’re afraid of. It’s him.

For the first time tonight, you see something flicker in his expression, something almost vulnerable before it’s quickly masked with understanding. He doesn’t say anything right away. Just watches you, his fingers now drumming lightly against his knee, like he’s considering his next words carefully.

And then, instead of pushing, instead of pressing for more, he does something you don’t expect.

He smiles. Not in a teasing way, not cocky. Just soft.

“That’s okay,” he says, nodding slightly. “I get it.”

You blink. “You do?”

Jungkook shrugs. “I mean, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little bummed, but…” He pauses, exhaling. “I like hanging out with you. Even if it’s just as friends.”

Friends.

You’re not sure why the word makes something tighten in your chest.

“I don’t know if I’d be a very exciting friend,” you admit, trying to lighten the moment.

Jungkook chuckles, his lip piercing catching the light as he shifts. “I think that’s what I like about you.”

Your breath hitches slightly. “What?”

“You’re normal,” he says, shrugging. “You don’t try too hard. You don’t treat me like I’m some celebrity or some… I don’t know, fantasy. You just let me be a guy in a grocery store picking out snacks.”

You look down, biting the inside of your cheek. “Well, technically, I treated you like someone who doesn’t know how to grocery shop.”

Jungkook laughs, his head tilting back slightly. “Even better.”

You shake your head, smiling despite yourself. “So… you really want to be friends?”

He nods. “Yeah. I could use more normal friends.”

You hesitate, but then finally exhale. “Okay. Friends.”

As he pulls up to a red light, Jungkook grins, turning to you, pinky finger outstretched. “Promise?”

You stare at him, incredulous. “Are you seriously asking for a pinky promise right now?”

He smirks. “I take my friendships very seriously.”

You roll your eyes but lift your pinky anyway, linking it with his. His fingers are warm against yours, his touch lingering even as he slowly pulls away.

For a moment, the air between you feels lighter. Easier. But before you can get too comfortable—he speaks again.

“So… as friends,” he drawls, tilting his head. “I can still see you, right?”

You hesitate, but there’s something about the way he looks at you that makes it impossible to say no.

“…Yeah,” you murmur. “That’s fine.”

Jungkook grins, satisfied. “Good.”

And you really have no one to blame but yourself when you make the mistake of looking at his lips.

The way he licks them absentmindedly, the way his tongue glides across the silver ring before catching it between his teeth, playing with the metal like it’s a habit he doesn’t even realize he has.

It’s unfair, really.

Your throat goes dry, and you quickly look away, hoping he didn’t catch it.

But of course, he did. Damn it, Jeon Jungkook.

Jungkook hums. “Something wrong?”

You shake your head too quickly. “Nope.”

He smirks but doesn’t push. Instead, he leans back against the drivers seat, stretching his legs slightly before glancing back at the road. “We’re almost at your place.”

You nod, trying to focus on anything other than the warmth still lingering in your pinky from earlier.

The car slows as he pulls up to your apartment. Jungkook watches as you gather your things, but before you can reach for the door handle, he speaks again. You should invest in duct tape for his mouth if he’s going to make your heart palpitate everytime he opens it.

“Hey.”

You turn, meeting his gaze.

“This was fun,” he says, voice softer now. “I’m glad you agreed.”

Something about the way he says it makes your chest ache.

You swallow. “Yeah. Me too.”

You hesitate, then add, “Thanks for dinner.”

Jungkook grins. “Anytime, friend.”

You roll your eyes but can’t stop the smile that tugs at your lips.

With that, you step out of the car, closing the door behind you. As the car pulls away, disappearing into the night, you let out a slow breath.

Friends.

You can do that.

You have to.

Even if, deep down, you already know: nothing about Jeon Jungkook feels like something you can keep at arm’s length.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

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[entamesubs]

Yu-Gi-Oh! Go Rush!! Episode 151 Sub Release (END)

Torrent

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Please make sure to read the FAQ if you have any questions.

Thank you for three years of Go Rush!! There are notes from the team under this cut alongside the translation notes.

These three years have been a blast, and I hope you enjoy the last episode as much as we did!

Go Rush!!

-------------------------------

"Wings and Courage"

Yuuhi and Yuamu's names in Japanese are written as 遊飛 and 遊歩, respectively. The first kanji in their name is the standard Yu-Gi-Oh! protagonist yuu- (meaning "game"). The second kanji is what Yuudias refers to when he calls them his wings and courage.

Yuuhi's second kanji is 飛, meaning "to fly". Meanwhile, Yuamu's second kanji is 歩, meaning "to walk". By flying with Yuuhi's wings and walking forward with Yuamu's courage, Yuudias is complete.

遊天亜守 Yuudei Asu

Yuudias' old-timey name as revealed at the end is Yuudei Asu, complete with kanji. Altogether, the kanji seem to have mainly been picked just as a way to "spell out" the sound of "Yuudias" rather than for meaning.

However, if there's anyone that can wrangle meaning out of a couple mismatched kanji, it's me.

遊 - play, game 天 - sky, heavens 亜 - next, sub- 守 - guard, protector

This can be read, liberally, as "cosmic protector of games" or, more simply, by taking out the yuu- kanji that every Yu-Gi-Oh! protagonist has, "defender of the cosmos".

-------------------------------

Messages from the entameSubs Team

"i love you go rush and yuamu you will always be famous to me" - Tessa (aka batsugeemu, proofreader and pinch translator)

"Thank you for watching Yu-Gi-Oh! Sevens and Yu-Gi-Oh! Go Rush with our subtitles. I remember being six and watching Duel Monsters episodes split into three parts on Youtube--I never could have imagined actually working on any of the series myself. Even so, I'm really grateful for the past five years with entamesubs. I made irreplaceable friends, and my Japanese, which I had only learned lightly as a hobby, was able to help spread a series I love with so many people, and grow into a skill I'm proud to have. It's strange to think of a future filled with weekends without a new episode to watch or work on, but my love for Yu-Gi-Oh will never die! Until the next series, let's rush, rush, go rush!" - Yona (aka angelthinktank, proofreader and translator)

"one last pu-puku-pu" - Quas (aka quasthecat, quality checker)

"Rest easy yall knowing Yuga and the crew got their happy ending while Otes lived out his dumb old man life at the mercy of kuaidul" - Merlin (aka merlinwizaa, timer)

-------------------------------

At the end of a long five year journey, my work on Yu-Gi-Oh! SEVENS and Go Rush!! has now come to an end.

I don't quite know how to put my feelings into words, but first let me express my gratitude. Rush era Yu-Gi-Oh! saved my life in more ways than one, and has let me meet new friends and create wonderful memories with many people. Every episode that went by, and every week that passed as I worked on this series was a blast. My Japanese has improved considerably since I began, and I was able to flex my own writing muscles with the over-the-top summon chants that I always enjoy translating.

I remember being one of the only people that kept holding onto belief that Go Rush would get a third year - a belief that turned out to be true in December of 2023. It has been so very exciting to work on Go Rush and share my joy and passion with others.

In a similar vein to one of Arthur's tweets, aka the VA of Yuudias, I kept thinking to myself "once I type this last line, once I translate this final word, it'll all be over". At the push of a publish button, my work as part of [entameSubs] will come to a warm and bittersweet end.

Yuudias and the cast of Go Rush have truly been my sources of joy for the past three years, and I am sad to see them go. I am overwhelmed with emotion about the implications of the final episode, as Yuudias endured 500 long years to meet with the twins again.

I have cried in the middle of translating, and even while I was writing this, I delayed the final word of my translation just a little so it won't be "over" just yet.

As someone who has been watching Yu-Gi-Oh! live as it aired in Japan since 5Ds, I have to say this is the most emotional ending that has ever affected me so much in a Yu-Gi-Oh!. I am overcome with an appreciation and fondness for Go Rush, and it has become my absolute most favorite Yu-Gi-Oh!, bar none. And I have seen every single one without fail.

Once again, thank you for three years of Go Rush! Until the day I die, this series will stick with me into forever. The people I have met, the journey I have been on alongside these characters, growing up with them, and of course the entameSubs team has been a great source of happiness. I will miss all of it.

My fellow Go Rush countrymen! Let us meet again!

- Ciel (aka "entame", the main translator and head of entameSubs)

[dxncingwithastrxnger]

1. i'm sleeping with a ghoul (Ghost!Lucifer x MC)

A/N: Hello!! This is a few days late, but I said I wanted to do Obey Me month and I'm sticking to it, damn it! So I offer you my very first story for it, as well as the first thing I've published for the om fandom that isn't Barbatos. This was actually really fun to write and I wanna thank @the-ancient-fae for giving me the prompt of 'ghost' to help me figure something out!! That simple prompt has created a whole basket of ideas in my head, so thank you, Roxy 💜 But anyways, enjoy reading!!

Pairing(s): Lucifer x MC

Prompt: Day 1 - Lucifer from @obeymetournaments's list of prompts for this month!!

Summary: The tale of someone who encountered a... different kind of ghost.

Tag(s): 18+, themes of stalking, Spectrophilia/Phasmophilia, dubious consent, non-explicit, mentions of sexual content, first person pov

Word Count: 922

Song Inspiration: Sex With A Ghost By Teddy Hyde

Not beta'd, all mistakes are my own.

~*~

[Author Masterlist]

[Day 1] [Day 2] [Day 3] [Day 4] [Day 5] [Day 6] [Day 7] [Day 8] [Day 9] [Day 10] [Day 11] [Day 12] [Day 13] [Day 14] [Day 15] [Day 16] [Day 17] [Day 18] [Day 19] [Day 20] [Day 21] [Day 22] [Day 23] [Day 24] [Day 25] [Day 26] [Day 27] [Day 28] [Day 29] [Day 30] [Day 31]

~*~

Anyone who’s ever lived in a haunted house before will be familiar with the usual signs. Creaking floors, footsteps down the hallway, doors opening and closing on their own, whispers in other rooms. I, myself, am familiar with all of those, but those aren’t the things I’m experiencing in my current home. I hear less whispers and more longing sighs. I see shadows creeping around the corner. Sometimes the flap of wings. The click of formal shoes. I’ve recently started finding feathers in random places throughout the house. Long, black feathers. Bigger than any bird in my neighborhood.

I can feel whenever I’m being watched. The time I seem to be watched most is when I’m sleeping. Or at least laying in my bed at night. I can even see the outline of a figure if I look into the darkness for long enough and I swear the figure has horns and wings. Do you think it sees me, too?

~*~

The ghost. It’s a man. I know what he looks like now. He’s gotten bolder, closer. Or maybe I’ve just started paying more attention?

The places I find feathers have gotten more consistent. More specific. They’re only in parts of the houses I often frequent, like the kitchen and my own bedroom. And just the other day… I was in the bathroom, had just finished a shower. It was such a cliche. I wiped off the mirror and immediately I saw him, behind me. But unlike the movies, he didn’t flicker away as soon as I saw him. Instead, he stayed. He met my eyes. It was like he wanted me to see him. And so, I did. Soft, black, feathery hair with just the tiniest piece of his bangs turned gray. Deep, mysterious red and black eyes. Four black-feathered wings that are a glorious sight to behold, almost how one would imagine angel wings. But then my eyes catch on the large, black horns curving upwards from the top of his head. That’s when I’m reminded that he is certainly no angel.

Even so, he took my breath away. And he knew it. A look of pride upon his face before I blink and he’s finally gone. It took me a moment to recover after that. But it was not because I was terrified. Nor was I upset that he was intruding upon my home. All I felt in that moment was an intense curiosity, along with excitement at the thought of finding out more.

~*~

I’m starting to think something’s wrong with me. I can’t truly be thinking like this about a ghost, can I? But I can’t help it. He’s doing it on purpose. Seducing me. There’s no other way to describe it. I see him all the time now. He’s stopped trying to hide from me. He watches me openly now, during all hours of the day. I’ve started speaking to him. He’s there to listen, so I might as well, right? And sometimes he’ll answer. With gestures or the softest of whispers. But what’s more important is what happens at night.

Once I’ve shut off all the lights and settled beneath my blankets, that’s when I’ll feel it. Fingers brushing over my skin. Sometimes gloved, sometimes bare. First, it was just soft affection. Holding my cheek or tracing my hand. Then, he’d trace down my neck and over my calves. And now, he’s trailing down my chest and up my thighs with touches that can no longer be considered simple affection. No, these touches are filled with intent. And I know something’s fucked in my head because in response, I’ve started wearing less and less clothes to bed. He’s taking it as an invitation to continue and we both know that’s exactly what it is. Even before it’s bedtime, I’m already anticipating the feel of his fingers and the pleasure his touch brings.

I think he’s waiting to take a step further because he enjoys seeing me touch myself. He gets this smirk on his face as his low chuckle fills my ear and it only adds to my overloaded senses, driving me over the edge. Sometimes during the day, I’m unable to help myself when I think too much about it. When that happens, I always make sure to be loud enough so that he’ll know exactly what I’m doing.

Even now, questioning my own mind, I can’t find a single ounce of hesitation towards any of it.

~*~

Lucifer. Lucifer. Lucifer. That is my lover’s name. He finally told me when he gave himself to me completely. I got to see him in all his glory, laid bare and without any clothing in the way. Just as he saw me the same way. And not only did he touch me without holding back, but I got to touch him as well. We were finally joined as one and that’s when I knew for certain - this is love. It must be. There’s no other emotion I could use to describe how I feel for him. And I know he loves me, too. He told me so. Told me that even when he was alive he never loved another the way he loves me.

We’ll be together forever, him and I. He’s in my bed every night and right beside me throughout the day. He takes me whenever he feels like it and I would never dream of rejecting him. All of me belongs to him now, mind, body, and soul, and I don’t want it any other way.

~*~

A/N: Please, let me know your thoughts!! Thank you for reading!!! 💜💜💜

[gremlinmodetweeker]

Hope is in Buns, Life is in Stars, Promises in Vain (Pt. 2)

I did promise to put up part two today. I am keeping to that promise. I am not a monster, I assure you. This part is much much shorter, but I think it adds some important stuff.

Again, Executioner Konig is the au I put the most effort into. I plan to make it into a published work some day. I hope you all enjoy what is an essentially free first draft of a novel/graphic novel.

Please feel free to share this work (with credits) because this is the fic I'm most proud of.

Part 1

TWs: mentioned forced homelessness (no weight to the threat, your aunt is just mad), pregnancy referenced (not happening... yet.)

Wordcount: 3.5k out of 11.7k

Art from This Post

Hope is in Buns, Life is in Stars, Promises in Vain (Pt. 2)

It didn’t take long before The Axe was guiding Hunter to stand outside your home.He hopped down and tethered her to a fence before he turned to help you off Hunter’s smooth back, guiding you with one hand in your own and the other on your waist. You giggled when he kneeled so you could use his thigh as a footstool.

“You don’t have to kneel in the dirt for me, silly,” you giggled.

“It’s the right thing to do,” The Axe shrugged, a bit giddy to still be talking to you.

“You know,” you smirked up at him as he guided you to the front door, “if I didn't know better, I’d think you were a nobleman, what with how fine you’ve treated me all Densis’s-watch.”

The Axe stiffened slightly before bowing his head, “I only learned how to treat a woman from the teachings of my father.”

“And was he once a nobleman?” you asked.

“I am from a long, long line of Criah’s folk,” The Axe answered sadly.

Your face fell slightly at the memory of his family’s struggles before you perked up again, “Well, he was a perfect gentleman if that’s how he treated the women in his life. You’re lucky to have learned from him. I’m lucky you learned from him! I mean, it’s nice to see a man who doesn’t balk at the concept of chivalry, despite his class.”

The Axe looked away bashfully, but he let you through the door. When you watched through the fogged window, you could see him practically skip over to Hunter before leaping up onto her back. As the final fingers of night released the purple and blue bruised sky, The Axe rode off into the distance.

Once he was out of sight, you scurried up to your bed and buried under the covers. You grinned gleefully as you replayed the events of the Densis’s-watch over and over in your mind. The buns, his words, the promise, it all tickled you so. You felt a bubbling yellow glow warm your body from the tips of your toes to the ends of your hair. You were completely abuzz with giddy excitement.

You only managed to sleep for at most a watch before you were woken by the sounds of metal pots clanging and children cheering from downstairs. Evidently, breakfast was well on its way. From the smells of it, it was something spiced and nutty.

You joined your family downstairs swiftly, not wanting to miss out on any of the morning’s breakfast before the day began. After all, it was the fuel you needed to be able to work the entire day. You needed every bite you could scarf down to take on the day ahead of you.

Your aunt eyed you carefully when you stepped into the kitchen.

“Looks like you’re up bright and early,” she muttered as she spooned ladles of porridge into your cousin’s bowls. From the smell, it seemed like she’d added some of the spices from the traveling merchants and some berries from the previous turning-time to the mix, giving it a warm and homely smell.

“I had a rough time sleeping,” you told her as you went to help by her side, “went out for a walk at one point.”

“I noticed,” your aunt clucked her tongue, “and in this turning-time? Goodness girl! You could’ve caught a cold out there!”

“Oh hush your fuss,” you chuffed as you set out to prepare a jug of juice, “I’m just fine.”

“Mama! I want more kayomberries(17) in my porridge!” the youngest, Georgie called out as he banged his spoon on the wood table.

“We’ll have to wait for next Chaos’s-turn for more of those,” your aunt huffed, “we went through the last of them a few days ago.”

“But that’s so far away!” Georgie whined.

“Mama, we haven’t run out of rosers(18) though, right?” Anna, the eldest asked. Her little brown eyes made your heart melt each time she looked at you.

“I’m sure we have some,” you immediately turned to look through the pantry for her.

Your aunt huffed, “You’re giving her some? Just like that?”

“Why not?” you asked.

Your aunt glared at Anna, “Well, what’re you supposed to say when you want something?”

Anna squeaked, “Oh! Um, may I please have some rosers in my porridge?”

Auntie nodded, “That’s better.”

“Well,” you chuffed, “since you asked so nicely, how can I say no?”

Harry, the second oldest boy, frowned and crossed his arms behind the table, “Mama, Georgie didn’t say please. Why are you getting mad at Anna?”

Your aunt grunted as she pulled the pot up to place it in the center of the table, “Didn’t matter if Georgie said please at all. He wasn’t getting any!”

Georgie crossed his arms stubbornly as the other four kids laughed at him. Even you couldn’t help snickering at how he put out his little brown lip in a pout.

“Look, Georgie,” you offered, “if you really want kayomberries, you might be able to ask nicely for some from your teacher.”

“Miss Bess? Why?” he asked.

“She works a lot with the winter preparation guild,” you explained, “she often has access to the town stores. She’s responsible for the rations, so maybe, if you ask her really nicely, she might give you some.”

“Oh don’t go giving him ideas,” your aunt grumbled.

“Why not?” Anna asked.

“She’s a rations master!” your aunt explained as she set to cleaning out some pots on the stove, “she can’t just give out rations willy nilly! If anyone could just go up and ask whenever, we’d never have enough rations for winter!”

You sheepishly nodded your head, “Okay so, about what I said Georgie?”

Georgie nodded brightly, his loose dark curls bouncing around his face.

“Don’t ask for extra rations,” you grimaced.

“But you just said I could!” Georgie whined.

“Didn’t you hear your mama?” you raised an eyebrow at him.

“Oh…” Georgie sighed, “yeah…”

“And that’s that,” your Auntie snapped, ending the conversation immediately.

The rest of breakfast was spent trying to stop Harry from flinging spoons of goopy oats at Helen while Anna helped feed Georgie. Meanwhile, your aunt brought you aside to the blazing oven, out of earshot of the children.

Her dark eyes narrowed as she looked down at you, “I noticed The Axe’s rations are missing.”

You slunk down immediately.

Your aunt glanced around nervously at the children, then faced you with a ferocious look, “I don’t want you seeing that man, but I can’t stop you. Your uncle said as much. But if you get hurt?” she bared her teeth in a growl, “you’d best not expect a lick of help from me. I warned you plenty, and that’s enough help from me.”

You opened your mouth but were quickly cut off.

“He’s a dangerous man, young lady,” your aunt continued, “and I’m telling you that it’s in your best interest to cut contact while you still can. He’s not even really a man. He’s an animal. A beast. Men don’t kill men like that. Not a good one, anyways.”

“But he’s not an animal!” you spat back under your breath, “he is a good man!”

Your aunt threw up her hands as she whirled around, “I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to know what you did with him during last Densis’s-watch, but whatever it was it can’t be good. That man is evil. And if you come back in a few weeks with a swollen belly, well, you might as well be out on the streets for all I care!”

“But auntie, if you just met him-”

“If he steps one foot over our doorstep,” your aunt sucked in a lungful of air, “oh I don’t even want to think about it. What would your uncle say? Oh you haven’t even thought about him at all, have you?”

“Why doesn’t uncle like him? He knows The Axe! He knows he’s not a bad man!” you retorted.

“Your uncle is too soft-hearted and you know that,” your auntie snapped, “you and him are too much alike for your own good! You know, if it weren’t for your uncle, I’d be beating your backside until next Hollinwake! But he said to let you be,” she held up a finger, “but you make one wrong step? I’ll have you bent over my knee like a seven-cycle girl!”

You winced at the lashing, but felt strangely vindicated despite it. If your auntie wasn’t going to stop you, this gave you more leeway than you expected. It wasn’t much, but anything was better than sneaking out at night. If nothing else, maybe you could get more time with him at the church. Surely your guardians couldn’t oppose to you meeting on holy ground, now could they? Of course, being under the stars brought a certain intimacy, but the walk to his place wasn’t safe during Densis’s-watch. It was a wonder some vandal hadn’t accosted you out in the woods, prowling as they were of infidels and scoundrels.

When breakfast was over and you’d eaten your fill after sending the children to school, you carried a bowl of the spiced porridge upstairs to your uncle.

For the first time since he’d fallen ill, he was sitting up in bed to greet you when you walked in.

“Ah! Good to see you this waking watch!” your uncle cheered from behind his round golden spectacles.

“Uncle! It’s good to see you up in bed!” you smiled at him.

“It’s good to be up,” your uncle chuckled as he took the bowl of porridge from your hands, “soon enough I’ll be back on my feet, don’t you worry. I know your aunt’s been worried sick about me.”

“I hope to see it,” you said as you sat on the stool by the bed, “but your right. Auntie’s been going crazy without you around to help.

Your uncle hummed as he tucked into his breakfast with a smile, “Your auntie is a good woman.”

“She’s a woman alright,” you huffed.

Your uncle brought his thin brows together on his round face, “Oh? Did you get into an argument with her today already? I thought she might wait a bit before bringing it all up…”

You raised an eyebrow at the suggestion, “You knew there’d be something between us?”

Your uncle quietly stirred his porridge and said, “Well, I know she doesn’t approve of you seeing this new man.”

“You mean The Axe?”

Your uncle cringed into himself, “Yes, that’s the one.”

You rolled your eyes and leaned back as you crossed your arms, “I don’t understand. You know he’s not a bad man, right?”

“He’s not,” your uncle admitted quietly.

“So then why are you so against it?” you huffed.

“Well…” your uncle said slowly, “he’s an executioner. He’s not a man blessed by Halax’s light. He’s in the shadow of Criah and Densis. It’s just not right for someone like you to be seeing him.”

“But you don’t treat the morticians nearly half as cruelly and they follow Criah,” you pointed out.

“The morticians deal with the already dead. They don’t go adding to the pile,” your uncle glared at you, “and it doesn’t help that… Well… He’s just a weird man. He’s not normal.”

 “Maybe not, but he’s not a bad man,” you insisted.

“Maybe he is, maybe he isn’t. I don’t know, and quite frankly I don’t care to know. All I know is that he’s quiet when he takes his rations. Doesn’t talk to me much, I don’t talk to him too much either,” your uncle said firmly, “and that’s how I like it! The less I deal with him the better. But now,” your uncle shook his head, “now you’re off trying to see him after dark! I heard you going down those stairs during Densis’s-watch, and I know you were out for a good few watches. I know you were with him. As soon as your auntie told me his rations were gone, I knew, and I told her about it. She was mad, but that’s not the point!

“The point is, I know you think you’re young and that you’re capable of taking on the world, but don’t get your wings clipped by falling into the wrong crowd so early, okay? I already deal with you being friends with those strange women in town, but now this? You’re going to bring a bad name to this household if you aren’t careful!”

You stilled. You hadn’t thought of the household the entire time you’d been out with The Axe.

“Think of my kids,” your uncle sighed, “think about them growing up connected to this. I don’t want shame on their heads before they’ve even gotten an education under their belts. Who will teach them a trade? Who will take them on as journeymen? Who will go on and marry Anna and Helen if they hear about you sneaking around with the local executioner?”

You bit your lip and turned away, “I’ll be careful about it.”

“I know you’re thinking about yourself,” your uncle reasoned, “I was the same way when I was your age. Your aunt had just come up from the south. She was new and different in the village and her father was a strange man with strange ways. Once his business was taken over by those bastards, people started to really turn against her.. People said horrible things about her all the time. They took one look at her skin and made up their minds, but I went out of my way to get to know her, and it’s turned out well for us! I do understand your desires to see someone for who they really are, I do.

“But you came into this family a long time ago. When your mother died and your father went galavanting off wherever (I don’t care), I took you in. You’re my family, I’d do it time and time again. I will never, ever regret that,” he pushed his spectacles down his nose to look over them at you, “you also can’t go ruining my family name. Our family name. There’s other people on the line here. It’s not just you going out on your little adventures like your father.”

You shamefully looked down into your hands, hanging your head in shame. The comparison to your father stung particularly harshly.

Your uncle grunted as he leaned over to put the empty bowl of porridge on a side table and then leaned back to look at you. He frowned and rubbed his graying beard.

“But I’m not telling you no.”

You glanced up at your uncle’s soft face.

“If you think he’s not that bad, so be it. Your aunt tried to tell me to stop you from going off with the first man you’ve shown interest in, but you’re a grown woman finding her place in the world. If it’s by his side? So be it,” your uncle shrugged before his face fell into a cold glare, “but we won’t be with you. I can’t bring my whole family down for you. I took on enough shame bringing you in, I don’t need to ruin my children’s lives before they’ve even begun.”

“So if I choose to be with him…”

“You’ll have to do it alone,” your uncle concluded for you.

“But… Can’t I at least visit?” you asked with a trembling voice, “I mean, won’t we still be family?”

Your uncle laughed and lightened, “Of course you can visit! But not in public. In public I can’t be seen near you if you go off with this man. I can’t have you working here, either. You’ll need to find your own place in the world if you go off with The Axe. I love you, but I can’t protect you from what the others will say.”

You frowned and nodded. You hadn’t fully considered what life would be like alongside The Axe. If what he said about his life was true, it’d be a lonely life indeed.

“Do what’s best for you,” your uncle finished his advice, “and do what’s best for us as a family. Think of your cousins before you go off dancing around together in public.”

You blankly looked down at your hands.

“It’s a lot to think about,” your uncle offered you, “I don’t envy your positon, but I’ve been there before. I dealt with this with my parents when I chose your aunt. If you want to be with him, you have to know the consequences.”

The consequences. What a terrible way to phrase such a thing. The thought of having to call a life with The Axe a series of ‘consequences’ only put further weight on your shoulders. The thought of dragging your entire family down with you sombered your spirits. Going down the stairs to breakfast you had been light as a fly. Now, sat in your uncle’s rocking chair, the weight of the world hung on your shoulders.

“I’ll think about it,” you told your uncle as you slowly rose to your feet.

“I’m not like your aunt here; I’m not telling you no,” your uncle reminded you, “I’m telling you to be careful. And look, he’s just the first man to catch your eyes. There might be others!”

You smiled faintly, “I will be. I’ll think about it.”

With that, you bid your uncle a good wake and left to go down to the kitchen where your aunt was already prepping another long day of baking.

“Well?” your aunt raised a dark eyebrow.

“I spoke to him,” you said, “and… It’s a lot to think about.”

“Is it now?” your aunt snorted sarcastically.

“I just hadn’t factored everything in,” you admitted.

Your aunt watched as you tied an apron around your waist and set to roll up your sleeves. She eyed you irritably as you washed your hands, then stood before her with a determined look.

“You’re still going to see him,” she said, flat as the fields around you.

“I am,” you replied, equally dry in tone.

Your aunt rolled her eyes, “If I fall into the gutters because of this, you’re out on the streets. Hell, you heard me earlier, if you get knocked up by that man you’d best pray he’ll let you move in with him!”

You nodded as you set to measuring the dry ingredients, “I know.”

“And if anything happens to any of my kids-”

“I won’t let anything happen.”

The steel edge of your voice had your aunt faltering briefly. She paused her work, then let a small smile grace her sun-worn features.

“Good girl.” 

With that, she finally looked away from you and turned to her own recipe.

You worked quietly, diligently. Your aunt didn’t comment when you increased the yield of the recipe by a couple of extra buns. You didn’t comment on how she sighed whenever she thought you didn’t see her looking at you. Neither of you yielded, but a certain respect was bridged between you both that day, hammered out of stubbornness and a common interest in the five young children currently walking to school.

You wouldn’t dare say it, but a part of you found a new level of respect for your aunt. She was a strong woman, born of the hot sun and cool breeze of the beaches of the south and brought up as a young woman to work with her merchant father in the north. She had the complexion of the south, she had the temperament of a surly boxing beetle(19), and she fought tooth and nail for every single thing she’d managed to nab since her father’s business was taken over by vandals. She fought long and hard over the years, and you’d both be damned if one upstart niece from a broken home was going to take away everything she’d scrapped together since losing everything she’d ever had.

You made a mental promise to ensure that you’d ensure that your family never came in harms way because of your relationship with The Axe. You swore upon your soul.

Kayomberries - Little lime green berries in clusters of four to ten. Grow only at the very beginning of Chaos’s-turn. Can be dried out for spices or food additives. Add a notably citrusy taste to foods.

Rosers - Little red flower buds that add a floral taste when added to stews and stocks. In such wide abundance that some consider them a (tasty) weed.

Boxer Beetles - A colourful iridescent beetle with a hard carapace and a powerful demeanor. Known for its stubbornness and refusal to back down. Often used to pull plows or to do hard labor in difficult conditions. It has poor eyesight, average smell, but has excellent tremor sense. Cannot fly due to the heavy weight of its armoured carapace (which is sometimes harvested and used as light armor in militias). Despite its small size, being not even a meter tall and less than two meters in length, it’s known as a microbeetle. It’s one of the few microbeetles that is used for hard manual work and not kept as a family pet. Omnivorous.

Konig Dump

Alternate Universes

Part 1

[bbuzz28]

Thoughts on Fiddauthor?

I have many thoughts about those two nerds, actually.

(read more under the cut -- I won't be tagging it as the ship as I don't believe in putting ship 'discourse' in ship tags, even with the best of intentions. Remember: if you don't agree that is totally okay but complain to your momma and not to me about it, baby-this is my blog.)

I categorize my thoughts as mostly positive! I think some of the best GF art in the fandom usually coincides with this ship-and I get it! I am sold that canonically these two are something, and I love that for them and their superfans alike.

Fiddleford and Ford are both nerdy science wackadoodles (affectionate), who match each other's freak on a level known by very few. I imagine being in the same room as them to be both invigorating and exhausting (in the very best way). They are each other's person to be excited about something with, but also the only other person to be able to understand them. Yes, Ford has his brother who knows him better than most from literally sharing a womb-but it's different. Their bond is just different. I cannot begin to explain how that is so rare- "to be known is to be loved" and all that jazz. I just know they go from talking about music preferences to differential equations to if jellybeans should actually count as part of the food pyramid (it shouldn't; but try telling the man who consumes primarily fiber supplements, coffee and pure sugar that. At least Fiddleford had him eating protein with his beans.).

I like to think post-canon in the show timeline, they are able to heal together and rebuild their relationship; be that platonic or romantic. ((I arguably lean more heavily towards platonic as I headcanon Ford to be somewhere in the ace-spectrum, but I can see other avenues easily and don't disagree with it at all.))

I want soft things for them both more than anything.

They have had a hellish thirty+ years and have for the most part been alone for most of it. They should get to be with the people they love and with each other until the Axolotl takes them both.

However, the rub is that I...I get really sad if I think about them too much.

Especially in the pre-canon/building the portal timeframe. Here's the thing; if Fiddleford was secretly in love with Ford and left his WIFE and SMALL CHILD (yeah, we can all make Emma-May a badass who doesn't need a man in our preferred ship rewrites, but that's STILL what happened and that was SHITTY FIDDLEFORD-NO MATTER HOW YOU SLICE IT) as soon as Ford called as if he has been waiting since they graduated college together, only for Ford to choose his vision (or geometry- it's not my bag but whatever your hc, idc) over him, someone who Ford once described as the only person he could trust...that is gut-wrenching on so many levels.

This is not to make Ford the bad guy by any means, he's not. I truly think his sole focus during this time period (while genuinely being happy to have his companion, a person he obviously cared deeply about, with him again) was never going to be anything but making his "Grand Unified Theory of Weirdness" a reality. He makes that clear from their first adventure together:

"I discussed my dreams of proving my theory. I could finally leave Gravity Falls, return home to the East Coast, & publish my findings to the world. I'd be the toast of the scientific community, rubbing elbows with presidents and prizewinners, debating politics with Reagan, and discussing turtleneck fashion tips with Carl Sagan. Imagine the look on the dean of West Coast Tech's face when he saw that the student he refused was now the next Einstein! Imagine how proud my family and hometown would be: the "Freak" would return a hero! F seemed puzzled by the scope of my plans." -Journal 3, "Day One" evening camp fireside conversation

This single-mindedness of being the "hero", or "winning" is a contributor as to why he couldn't see through Bill's manipulations (along with more nuanced reasons that better people than me have discussed), why he ignored and eventually rejected Fiddleford's warnings, and ultimately why he lost his footing in this reality aside from ya know, Stan pushing him into the portal, but this isn't about him.

I personally have a *thing* about being 'chosen' when considering romantic ships in my brain-in that they should be choosing each other. That's it. Yeah, you can argue or disagree but at the end of the day choosing each other is the goal-and....neither of them did when it mattered. Fiddleford in his selfishness grief turned to forgetting everything entirely, and Ford chose fighting an eldritch being of unknown power alone-because he thought that was the only way. They lost the bond that brought them together. They stopped understanding each other.

Ironically, I am able to easily set aside canon for my favorite ship entirely...but not for these two. Idk why-definitely an emotional response skill issue on my part, and I own that!

So, those are my thoughts ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. Yes, I will share pretty fan art (truly-there are some amazing artists out there that specialize in depicting them) but I shy away from reading fics or unpacking them too much to keep myself feeling as good as I do about them.

TLDR: Essentially, I love them- but they hurt my heart so completely if I think about them too long.

(Also, there are several...hateful shippers that go around and hate on other ships involving these two and it's just...exhausting. I block and move on for the most part, but truly that is an overall detractor because it's hard to appreciate someone's art/pov about the ship when they're being so awful otherwise.)

[the-authoress-writes]

Safe and Sound

Or: It’s the Great Karmic Bitchslap, Jake Seresin!

Prologue

Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Seresin OC

Safe and Sound Masterlist

Synopsis: After leaving her violent and abusive husband, Anastasia Seresin has known nothing but fear for months.

Always looking over her shoulder, wondering if he’s found her and their son, Luke, again.

With nowhere left to go, she turns to her younger twin brother, Jake, hoping that finally, she’ll have fled far enough.

But when she meets Bradley Bradshaw, her world is turned upside down, and she’s left wondering…

Will she have the courage to love again, and to let herself be loved?

Series Warnings: Domestic violence and abuse, sexual abuse, PTSD, warnings will be updated as the series progresses.

This is a story dealing with very serious and sensitive topics.

Please be careful, and protect your own peace.

Chapter Warnings: Military inaccuracies 🤣

Author’s Note: This story is one that is special to me; this was one of the first Top Gun stories I came up with, soon after I watched TG:M.

I’ve been keeping this to myself, because this is going to be intense and hard, but I know that if I don’t put this out there, I’ll never finish it.

So here we go.

Title is from the Taylor Swift/Joy Williams & John Paul White song of the same name.

Not breaking my habit of naming my stories after songs, it seems!

Jake groaned as he blindly groped around his bedside table for his phone which was ringing its alarm.

He felt like he’d just fallen asleep—he’d only drank his limit at The Hard Deck, the night before, but it felt like he’d only gotten an hour of sleep.

Phone in hand, he squinted at the screen, his sleep-addled mind not quite comprehending what he was seeing.

It actually was about an hour since he fell asleep, and his phone was ringing not because of his 5:45 AM alarm, but because of a call from base gate security.

“Lieutenant Seresin speaking,” he rasped, pressing the phone to his ear.

“I’m very sorry to wake you, Lieutenant, but I have a kid and woman here at the gate asking me to let them in, she says they need to get to your house,” the guard replied.

Jake frowned. “Who are they?

Did you get their names?”

“The young man has no ID on him, but the woman’s driver’s license says Anastasia Malloy.”

Jake instantly shot up in bed, even though the action left him a little dizzy. “Let them in—that’s my sister and nephew.”

A minute or two later, he was standing outside his base housing, waiting.

Soon, the gate security car drove up with an ancient sedan in its wake.

The sedan parked, and the driver stepped out.

He knew it had to be his sister, but nothing in the way the woman who was walking towards him reminded him of the strong, capable spitfire he knew.

She stopped about five feet away from him before she looked up, tear tracks making shining trails down her cheek. “I’m sorry,” she breathed, voice broken, “I didn’t know where else to go.”

“Oh, Stacia,” Jake immediately opened his arms to his older twin sister.

To be continued…

Next Part

I know this section is so short, but the first chapter will be published tomorrow, I am just editing it today.

I’m very excited.

My subtitle for this story was the working title this story was under until I came up with “Safe and Sound” as the actual title.

It’s derived from the classic Peanuts television special, “It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown”.

I thought about not putting it, but giving Jake the biggest karmic bitchslap was the entire reason I came up with the plot, so I’m putting it.

Stacia (pronounced StAH-shuh) is the Polish nickname for Anastasia, which I use here because I headcanon that Jake has Polish ancestry, like his actor, Glen Powell’s supposed ancestry, so here, the Seresin twins have Polish ancestry and nicknames.

With more Polish details to come! 😂

Let’s just ignore the military inaccuracies, shall we?

*In Edna Mode voice* It’s for the ahhhhht, dahhling.

Taglist

@ohtobemare

@callsign-skydancer

@permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88

@tadomikiku

@malindacath

@aviatorobsessed

@lynnevanss

@djs8891

@httyd-marauders

@penguin876

@jbetches

@squidy-things350

If you’d like to join my taglist, just send me an ask!

[pennyluna]

Misunderstandings ( Prologue)

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Genre: New to working together au. Cold playboy au. Future something au.

WARNING: This story will contain some bad words/strong language!

I have a good career, I've worked hard for it and spent the last couple of years preparing for the day in which they would give me the first assignment as a lead interpreter. That's my job, I work in the entertainment industry as an interpreter, which means I accompany famous people around and help them communicate with others when there is a language barrier, I also occasionally help them translate any written work but I have always been been an assistant interpreter, so most of my work had been at the office.

But today, was finally the day! I received an email last night asking me to show up early at work for a meeting about a new assignment that was starting in the afternoon! The lead interpreter assigned to it had fallen sick so they gave it to me, we were often not informed of who we would be working with as to avoid any information leaks, that made it a little bit more exciting. Now here I am, waiting by the elevator and checking my watch for the time, it's 3pm, two hours after the VIP was meant to arrive. I woke up extra early today due to excitement but now I'm a little pissed off, I hate waiting plus my stilettos are starting to take a toll on me and I'm sure my hair is a mess by now. 30 minutes later the driver texted me to let me know they were at the building so I faced the elevator and stood un straight, I tried my best to fix myself. I watched as the screen above the elevator doors indicated the floor it was currently passing. I mentally repeated them waiting for them to get to the 21st floor.

8th floorㅡ 'I'm tired.' 15th floorㅡ 'Why is it taking soo long.' 18th floorㅡ 'Soo tired.' 20th floorㅡ 'Oh crap, my breath smells like coffee!'

~DING!!!~

The elevator's door opens and my eyes land on Him.

Min Effing Yoongi.

The legend. The Rap God. AGUSTD. There He was, standing right in front of me and I found myself hating the privacy rules of the company, one in particular because a heads up about who I was going to be working with would have been fucking helpful. I blinked a couple of times and finally started hearing what was happening around me again, His manager made introductions and soon it was my turn to shake his hand.

It was warm, his hand was warm and now that feeling was going to stick with me. The man in front of me is gorgeous and didn't seem to be anything like the cold player guy that I had heard stories about from people that had worked with him in the past.

People in this industry likes to gossip about others so maybe it wasn't true, maybe he wasn't a cold player or was he?. Well, call me cat because curiosity is killing me and now I have a few weeks to observe him while I work with him.

A/N: Hello, I've been working on this story for a while, this is the first story I publish on Tumblr but it is not my first time writing. I wish to make this a series, please let me know if you are interested in the next part. Any feedback would be appreciated and any repost or like will be appreciated too!

[marvelmaniac715]

I started writing this post at exactly 23:06 PM just to plan out what I wanted to say and to make sure I wasn’t rushing when the time actually came. Wow, that sounds super dramatic, I’m not like deleting my account or anything, this is a happy post, I promise. 

At the time of writing, I am 16, but when I post this at midnight exactly, as many of you will know because I haven’t stopped going on about it, I will be 17. Yep, I was born at midnight, and fun fact - there was a debate at the hospital over whether I was born on the 28th or 29th of May then it was settled by a nurse who decided on the 29th, so I was causing drama even at birth. 

Not getting into it too deeply, doctors didn’t expect me to live past the age of 2 because of a variety of health complications (turns out quite literally being born dead - long story - doesn’t give you a long life expectancy in a doctor’s eyes), and I nearly died on numerous occasions as a child because my body hates me, but now I’m turning 17, so that showed them, didn’t it? 

I feel like I’ve learnt a lot about myself this year, I mean I’ve written loads of fanfiction, I’ve become more open about my love of Starkid, I discovered an undying passion for David Tennant and I’ve binged all or most of two shows (Glee and Doctor Who) that I’ve centred a lot of my personality around. I’ve even signed up for work experience and written my first CV, whilst attending college, which is so insane. 

I honestly don’t know why this post is so long, maybe I just had a lot to say? Before this post comes out I’ll have written and published my final fanfiction of my 16th year, just to end this chapter of my life the right way, so jump onto AO3 for angst (I may be filled with joy and excitement but angst is my best genre to write for some reason). 

Thank you to all of my wonderful friends I’ve met on here for being so kind and welcoming this year, a lot of you have been part of the Starkid/fanfiction community for longer than I have, and you’re all just really cool to me. If you want to join in my birthday celebration today, I will be wearing a scrunchie in honour of my queen Heather Chandler, so I’ve made it Marvel’s Scrunchie Day, just tie your hair up with one of the best hair accessories known to man and you’ll be part of the fun (absolutely not a requirement/compulsory, I’m not out here trying to choose what you wear, it’s just a fun/cute thing that I’d like to do). 

So yeah, it’s my birthday, I’m really excited and I’m probably going to sleep soon, thank you for reading this epically long post (it’s been 12 minutes since I started writing), you’re all amazing!

[moviemunchies]

I read the novel Erasure by Percival Everrett in college. I had mixed feelings about it while reading, until the composition of My Pafology, which in text was a not-at-all-subtle jab at the novel Native Son (which I had to read in high school). Then I was on board. When I saw the trailer for American Fiction, I strongly suspected the source novel, which wasn’t obvious from the title, and was fairly excited for the movie. It took a while, but I finally got the Blu-Ray from my local library system.

So here we go.

Theolonius “Monk” Ellison is a professor and author of books that are modern updates of ancient Greek stories. He’s frustrated with publishers asking for more “Black” books than his own, despite him being a black author, and he hates how culture fetishizes black trauma. After being put on leave for losing his temper, he spends some time with his family in Boston. After a surprising death, and money struggles stresses, Monk decides that as a dark joke, he’s going to write a horrible novel, an exploitative “Black” novel with horrible spelling, racial stereotypes, and terrible melodrama. He submits it, and to his surprise and alarm, publishers buy it for obscene amounts of money, and the book starts to both make him money and ruin his life.

Aha! For once, I am familiar with the source material! Sort of. It was over a decade ago. So while I remember the shape of the Plot, and a few specifics, I don’t recall every detail. I think that the movie got the gist of it, though I know they changed quite a few things.

The point of the movie is this: there is a type of minority fiction that is obsessed with showing the trauma. For us Puerto Ricans, it’s a book called When I was Puerto Rican which people used to use as if it were the definitive explanation of what life on the island was like, involving dirt poverty and horrible lives. And while those are problems that exist, it is not the universal experience of Puerto Ricans.

Likewise, Monk takes issue with how much popular fiction about African-Americans is about showing their suffering, and making (mostly white) audiences feel good about themselves for not being Klansmen or slave owners. It’s not interested in telling the stories of black people as much as it is making them into figures of pity. And this is apparently the only way that pop culture wants to depict black Americans. That’s… really, really annoying, to say the least.

This film takes a while to get started (and by that I mean the part where Monk writes the terrible book). At first this bothered me a little, because I really wanted to get to My Pafology, rather than Monk’s family drama. On reflection though, I think it makes sense. The movie is displaying a black family with a complex life, one that doesn’t fit in with the pop culture stereotypes that Monk hates.

The counterpart for Monk, Sintara Golden, gets her own rebuttal on Monk’s accusations–which I don’t think her book counterpart does (though it has been over ten years since I read it). In-story, she wrote a more stereotypical “black” book, titled (cringingly) Wes Lives in Da Ghetto. Monk despises her success, but when the two actually talk, she brings up that Monk’s problem is less with her, and more with white audiences and publishers who she’s catering to in order to make a living–while also pointing out that she does do research on her subject.

Also! Monk would be a pain in the butt to deal with! It’s great character writing that the man has his legitimate points, while also being kind of an insufferable douche at times, making it difficult for the people around him to deal with him. This means that even if the audience agrees with him, you can see why many people don’t–because the man making these points is very difficult to talk to without him losing his temper.

Something that’s a bit hard to talk about: Lisa Ellison’s job. In the novel, she’s explicitly an abortion doctor, and her death (spoiler) is from an attack on her clinic–Monk’s breakdown after that is what prompts him to write his book. In the film, her job is only implied: the clinic she works in has ‘family planning’ in the name, one of her first lines of dialogue is a Roe v. Wade pun, and… that’s kind of it. Her death in the film is from a random heart attack. Some reviewers called out the film for backing down on this aspect of the book; personally, there is already a lot going on in this movie, much of it probably controversial, so I understand why the movie wanted to avoid that weight while also not changing so much from the book that they’d be dinged for completely backing out.

[I have a lot of other thoughts about this, but it would probably take over the review so we’re leaving it here!]

I don’t think that the ending isn’t quite the mic drop I was hoping for; I don’t remember precisely how the book ends, either, so I don’t know how it compares. Still, it is a good ending, one that I think makes the point the movie’s trying to make while also taking the storytelling in a new direction.

In many ways, it’s a fascinating commentary on… well, American fiction, and pop culture’s obsession with a certain kind of fiction relating to African-Americans. If the topic interests you, I’d fully recommend checking it out for a view.

[eveninglottie]

state of the charlie 2024

hello babes I know I've been quiet on here for a while, so I figured I would update y'all on some things I'm doing soon because while normally it would be bad if I were quiet, it's actually quite good! I've been having like, a weirdly great start to my year, and while I have been hibernating for the past two months I am gearing up to overextend myself soon getting back to work and I am gonna do the excruciating thing and tell you what I'm doing in the hope that you might support me (this is just the update. the begging will come later.) so, what am I doing?

first, I am going to be posting my book, wilderblood, here on tumblr! I realize that's kind of weird and silly but I feel very connected to tumblr and I am scared of trying to self-publish it right away. I also don't have the money to commission a good cover (that's part of the later begging) and I refuse to put a naked man and a moon on a generic night sky background on my cover. no shade to the people making bank with those covers but I just can't.

I will be posting it on a separate blog dedicated to the book (reblogging here, of course), so if you're interested in keeping up to date with it, you can follow me over there at wilderwolves. obviously there's nothing on there yet, but I'm going to be posting the first chapter in the next few days. I will also be restarting my patreon to hopefully make some money which would allow me to commission a gorgeous cover. also, for like. money in general. because capitalism has forced me to monetize my hobbies. patreon will get early access and bonus stuff, but the book will be free to read.

speaking of, I am also going to start making candles! super random, I know, but it's something I've always wanted to do and writing this book made me want to find something else that isn't writing that could allow me to do something fun with my hands that isn't playing final fantasy fourteen. it's called Wilder Candle and I'm gonna be putting it up on etsy so if anyone wants some candles for sad girls (gender neutral) that are darker and less cheerful than other candles, that's something I am also doing. yes the candle company has the same name as the book series. yes I will eventually be making self-indulgent candles of the characters of my book. no I will not be taking any criticisms at this time.

in other, non-money things, I have recently gotten back into dming and am currently running an End of Camelot king arthur campaign that has so far been WILD and everything I could have hoped for. my players are level 20+ and the game is broken and it's great. my friends are such freaks, I love them. I am also currently ill with what is probably the flu (but not covid, thank christ) and feel like my head is going to explode, but I managed to get out of my bed today so everything's coming up charlie over here. my cats are flourishing and they're beginning to tolerate me trying to pick them up, so really 2024 is starting pretty swell.

I hope your new years are not too stressful, and I'm really excited to show you what I've been working on. <3

[fawnforlali]

Fairy Kings & Floods: A Study in Drowning by Ava Reid

Cute. Wasn't for me—not entirely.

Meet Effy Sayre: a meek architecture student with an obsessive love for one author. Six months after the author’s death, she wins a competition to redesign his historical home, which is crumbling into the ocean. But there are secrets in this decaying place. 

While uncovering them, we also uncover the secrets of Effy’s traumatic past. 

Now, let’s go through some of the negatives first. 

Effy is the sort of protagonist that is unsure, passive, whose actions tend to be self-destructive. She is seen as nothing more than a “pretty face”—a temptress to every man she meets in the book. Given her past, I understand why she is this way, but that didn’t make me any less irked than I am now. I’m not criticizing other characters written this way, or people who do act like this in real life. I know that—and I absolutely saw myself in her character too (you can’t tell me she wouldn’t be practicing her Starbucks order since she got in line). I just wish that Ava Reid wrote Effy in a way that was less monotonous and one dimensional, especially after going through all that trouble into making her a real person. 

Mysteries are supposed to conduct the reader, give them enough information about the problem to catalogue and sort through as they read and trick them into thinking they solved it. That is, until the story drops the final piece and you’re left dumfounded. This book really didn’t have that classic mystery quality to it since I was able to pick just about everything up long before they concluded anything. 

This one was such a bother. I noticed the pervasive use of similes only a chapter or two in this book, and once I did, it became so distracting. 

And the positives...? 

As a teenage girl often too deep in her own fantasies, the romance in this book kept me fed. Especially the end of chapter eleven (p.234) for those of you who have already read it. Had me giggling like a lunatic. 

This book deals with the extreme misogyny that is the reality for women in this world, and I can see why reading it can be therapeutic for many of the girls out there. Ava Reid chose an important message to convey through her writing but unfortunately, I just wasn’t feeling it. I could go on about how a good part of the book was a shallow dissection of profoundly serious themes, but I don’t want my negativity to seep through onto what is supposed to be the ‘pro’s’ section of this book review. 

Angharad, oh, Angharad. Let’s take a step back into Effy’s character and how she’s obsessed with this dead author—Angharad being the title of the book she holds more love for in her heart than for herself. I totally understand why that is. I loved the little snippets of Angharad we got at the beginning of most chapters and—quite honestly—I wish Ava Reid could publish it for reals. All I got were the tiniest of passages and paragraphs and I’m already infatuated with a book that doesn’t even exist. 

One thing you must know about me as a reader, I fall in love with every book I read to some extent. I become a point-blank fanatic if the book is really that amazing, which is why I have to wait for my excitement to die down before I ever give a book a rating. First impression and second impression, as I call it. For my first impression, I gave this book a 4.5 (out of 5 stars), which is quite good. Though after truly giving it some thought, I diminished it down to a 3.25. 

I believe it had everything a book should have, but it never quite exceeded the lines of bare minimum. A Study in Drowning was a palate cleanser to me—nothing ground-breaking, but left turning page after page anyway. Maybe I had just been expecting too much from this book, but overall, I found the story bloated with superfluous trends and tropes that detracted from what could’ve made it a very rich, needed story. 

If you were planning on reading A Study in Drowning, please don’t let this discourage you in any way. I’m just some kid on the internet with no judging credentials whatsoever, so please don’t get too mad either. 

[frolics-dannilions]

Genshin High School Shenanigans:

I Wish I Could Erase All the Memories

When Kinich tries to deliver some unusual light novels to the a fortune teller that was feared by many, he finds himself in a weird relationship.

Content warning: none

Tags: modern au, no romance, platonic

Pairing: Kinich & Citlali

Part: 1

—

Another day, another commission. It's the usual routine for Kinich at this point. Thankfully he doesn't have any school that day so he could make this commission a breeze. He opens the email request and it instructed him to buy a few titles from Yae Publishing House, Easy enough. He thinks to himself.

At the stall that sells the famous titles, the clerk fixes his frame as Kinich arrives. The arrays of books behind the man are colorful with various titles and genres, no wonder the buyer wanted ordered a lot. He can tell the buyer must've liked a few.

"Hello, welcome," Greet the clerk, the smile on his face almost infectious. "You seem new around here, want me to recommend you some of our newest titles?"

"No thanks." Kinich answers bluntly, he doesn't want to waste time on trivial matters. "I just need to get some old ones."

The smile fades from the clerk as he takes a quick glance at Kinich's whole appearance, he doesn't look like someone who's interested in light novels. "I see, mind telling me what titles?"

On his phone, he lists off the titles: "Treasured Tales of the Chouken Shinkageuchi, Princess Mina of the Fallen Nation, Shogun Almighty: Reborn as Raiden With Unlimited Power, and Pretty Please, Kitsune Guuji." He has to admit, some of the titles are cringe. Swallowing his pride, pays for the books voluntarily and set off for his next journey to deliver them.

The life of a deliver guy isn't an easy one.

He makes his way through the bustling streets of the city, through the huge crowds that filled every path he takes, even almost getting bird poop on his head because some idiots forgot to cage their birds. It's Kinich's first time in the big city—or to be more specific—the town square. Every building is sky high, lights everywhere he looks, even people rushing through the city with cars. He's not used to this.

Finally, he reaches the location... A dingy fortune telling place in an apartment complex. He isn't one to insult another's workplace, so he brushes it off and steps foot into the building.

He ties his jacket around his waist as he makes his through he halls. The apartment complex is decked out with spiritual symbols from a tribe he recognizes from Natlan. Wish catchers hung from each doors with numbers woven in them. The walls covered in graffiti he can only see from his homeland. Even the displays of animal bones doesn't bother him much. The notification on his phone rings as he stops at a door with "10125" on woven in the middle of the wish catcher.

Giving the door a small knock, he waits for the buyer to pick it up but no one came.

He tries again.

Still, no answer.

He tries for a third time.

You might have guessed it, no one came.

It's almost as if nobody's home. Did he get scam? Is the order fake? Does this person even order something?

Kinich remains calm but his mind keeps wondering.

Suddenly, "I'm coming. I'm coming." He immediately perks back up, holding the books tightly as the buyer unlocks the door. Seems like they have a lot of locks.

The door opens to reveal, a young woman with bright blue eyes and striking silky light pink hair—in them, are pink and purple feathers sticking out. "Are you the deliver guy?" She asks, her eyes wandering around nervously, maybe she's embarrassed to be reading all of these light novels.

"Yes." He answers, handing the bag of novels to her. "You ordered from Yae Publishing House, am I right?"

Her bright eyes light up immediately upon seeing the stack of books she ordered inside the bag. But that excitement immediately dies down as she discreetly takes them from him, looking around like he was dealing her illegal drugs or something. She turns to him, a confident yet mature demeanor forms, "Why, yes. I did. Thanks for these." Kinich watches as she digs through her pockets. "Here's your payment."

Kinich counts the money as the woman slams the door shut, locking it into place with the various locks from the other side. What...? She paid too much. He immediately knocks on her door again, he knows he charges people a lot but what she gave was too much even for a tip. He literally hear her groan from the other side of the door while the array of locks begin to open one by one again.

"What is it now? Didn't I already pay you?" Groan the woman as she tries to rush the conversation as fast as possible. Kinich shows the cash in his hand, handing it to her the excess, "I can't have all of it. You paid too much."

The woman takes a quick glance over the money before rolling her eyes, "No, I paid you extra for doing the labor. Think of it as a big tip."

"...a big tip?" Kinich has never received such a big quantity of money before.

She nods and hands the money back to him. "You did your job well." She says quickly before shutting the door at his face. "Now shoo, you'll scare my customers away."

Customers? What does she mean by customers?

"Alright, thanks for the tip, miss." He walks down the stairs of the apartment. Each tapestry feels like it's staring into his soul. It's a weird place, the weirdest place he has ever delivered orders too.

Kinich thinks back to the strange woman, why was she so scared of other people seeing her accept the orders of light novels? He figures she might be embarrassed by it since the ones who read them are people his age or weirdos who don't have a life.

As he exits the door, a tall man bumps into him so suddenly that the produce he brought fell from the bag.

"Sorry about that." He apologizes to Kinich while picking up the tomato hastily.

Kinich instinctively kneels down in front of him, getting a good looks on the massive tattoo on his arm. "Nah, it's no problem. I was in your way." He says, his tone never changing. "Here." He hands him a potato.

The duotone eyes meets his amber-emerald ones, a small smile forms on the man's face. "Thanks, sir." He accepts the potato, putting back into the bag. Kinich shrugs it off, "It's nothing."

As they both part way, Kinich has this feeling that the man is more than he appears.

I shouldn't think like that of other people...

[noveltyreads]

Song of Silver, Flame Like Night (Song of the Last Kingdom #1) by Amélie Wen Zhao

ARC kindly provided by the publisher via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.

This book was meant to be my first book of 2023 and yet, it is only now in 2024 that I finally got around to reading it. 

That being said, Song of Silver, Flame Like Night was worth the wait. 

This book was so hyped for me especially in the weeks/months leading up to the release. After it came out, I haven't heard many people talking about it and I don't understand why. This book was brilliant and deserves to be read by so many more people. 

The book follows Lan who lives under the colonial rule of the Elantians who killed her mother before her own eyes. Before she died, she gave Lan a mysterious message on her wrist, one only Lan herself can see. When an incident at a tea room makes her join with Zen, a mysterious man who can use magic, Lan seeks to discover the last message her mother gave her, one that is intertwined with the myths and legends that she grew up with. 

From the start, the book was gripping. I think that's thanks to the writing style which was so descriptive and rich and fast-paced. I loved Lan from page one, her quick wit and snark was great to read on the page and her interactions with Zen were so much fun and cheeky. I really hope they become endgame in book two. 

I loved the world building, the characters and the writing. Everything was done so well in this book. I don't really have any criticisms to be honest apart from how the middle part of the book felt a little slower than the start and ending. I am so excited to read the sequel. I wouldn't mind more books set in this world.

[frontproofmedia]

SKYE NICOLSON: 12 x 3 ROUNDS FOR SERRANO? SIGN ME UP!

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Published: April 06, 2024

Australian star would take on Puerto Rican over longer distance – but first faces Mahfoud for WBC strap in Las Vegas

Skye Nicolson says she is open to facing Amanda Serrano over 12 three-minute rounds if that gets the fight on. The Australian is targeting a comprehensive win on Saturday night over Serrano’s old Sarah Mahfoud for the vacant WBC Featherweight belt at Bleaulive Theater at Fontainebleau Las Vegas, live worldwide on DAZN, to stake her claim for the mega showdown.

TICKETS ARE ON SALE NOW VIA TICKETMASTER

 Nicolson (9-0 1 KO) is fighting Mahfoud (14-1 3 KOs) for the WBC strap that Serrano vacated in December, a move Nicolson has previously stated was due to the seven-weight champion not wanting to face her, and not down to wanting to fight over the 12 three-minute round distance.

The Australian star has landed the World title fight she’s been craving, albeit against tough Dane Mahfoud instead of the Puerto Rican. The duo previously met for undisputed in September 2022, with Serrano prevailing on points. Although Nicolson has put the Serrano fight to one side to focus on the task at hand, the 28-year-old can’t help that it’s a fight that she’s asked about all the time – and aims to deal with Mahfoud in better fashion than Serrano to prove she’s ready to take on the living legend. “I can only fight who they put in front of me,” said Nicolson. “Serrano is the dream fight, and to have been boxing for undisputed in my tenth fight would have been legendary, but it didn’t happen. It is what it is; I’m not looking past Sarah. I’ve got a good opponent in front of me, and it’s for the best belt in boxing, in my opinion, so I am fully focused on the job in front of me, and we’ll see what’s next after that.    I hope the Serrano fight happens; I am ready and waiting. I want the best; I feel like I am constantly saying it, but it’s true. I wanted the Serrano fight in my eighth and ninth fights. I have Sarah for my tenth fight, so maybe it’s Serrano in my 11th fight; who knows? I want the belts, so I am going to keep pushing for that.   “12 x 3s suits my style. I’m a patient fighter; I love the longer rounds, so for me, it makes sense. For women’s boxing, I personally don’t agree with 12 x 3s; I think the depth of women’s boxing, 10 x 2s, has been really good for growth. It’s kept it exciting, and you’ve seen the women’s fights steal the show time and again, and I think that’s down to the two-minute rounds. So, for me, I love three-minute rounds, but for women’s boxing, not so much - but if the only way to fight Serrano is over three minutes, sign me up.   “The Serrano fight for Sarah was 97-93, 97-93 and 99-92. That’s not happening, that’s all I will say. The way I am boxing right now, I don’t see the fight going the distance. If it does happen to go the distance, it’s 100-90.”

Nicolson’s clash with Mahfoud is part of a big night of action in Las Vegas, led by a double-header with two of America’s brightest stars: Richardson Hitchins takes on Gustavo Lemos in a final eliminator for the IBF World Jr. Welterweight title, and Diego Pacheco defends his USWBC and WBO International Super-Middleweight titles against Shawn McCalman.   British Olympic gold medal man Galal Yafai defends his WBC International Flyweight title against Agustin Mauro Gauto. Marc Castro gets a first title bout in his 12th pro outing, taking on Abraham Montoya for the vacant WBC Continental Americas Super-Featherweight title, Harley Mederos is in action for the sixth time in the paid ranks over six rounds against Pedro Vicente, and there’s a pro debut for former Team USA talent Steven Navarro over six rounds at Super-Flyweight against Jose Lopez.

(Featured Photo: Melina Pizano/Matchroom)

[youngestrunningleek]

The Coming of the Rats

Content warning: the book I'm reviewing today has a lot of sexual content.

Today I am reviewing The Coming of the Rats, by George H. Smith, published in 1961. It's a science fiction novel about a man surviving nuclear apocalypse.

Image description: The book's cover. It has a skinny blonde woman with her clothes being ripped off by hordes of red-eyed rats. It is 50 cents.

Before I go further, I will say that this book has a lot of sexual violence in it. It is treated badly. That's all I'll say in this review. Also, I'll be spoiling the end, but it's a bad book so don't feel too bad.

So, when I picked the book up (just the title was enough to get me excited) I knew what I was getting into. It was really funny. If you like this sort of thing, then this is the sort of thing you will like. I could write a thousand words taking down this long-dead author's sexism, but I'm not going to waste anyone's time.

Something that surprised me was that it's a near-future book. It takes place in 1963, and was published in 1961. I think of near futures as being a modern trend. Today, technology feels like it's advancing by leaps and bounds. It's easy to set science fiction just a few years from now. But Smith was doing this in the sixties. Early on, his protagonist explains why the year has to be 1963. I can't vouch for the accuracy of his calculations about the Russians' nuclear arsenal, but he clearly put some thought into it.

I find it kind of reassuring to read accounts from the Cold War. (It feels funny to use that name since it wasn't cold at all, for so many people.) I don't think people were wrong to be worried about the end of humanity, back then. But the world didn't burn. We live in scary times now. It's nice to know people were afraid the world would end, and it didn't happen.

One piece of evidence the book cites is that 90% of humans will die if exposed to 400-600 roentgens, and only 50% of rats will die if exposed to 825 roentgens. Again, citation is needed. In the text, it quickly becomes "rats can survive twice as much radiation as humans and live".

In reality, most of the book is set before the bombs fall, and very little of it is about rats. The protagonist spends the first part preparing and trying to convince Bettirose, his coworker, to go with him to his cave in the mountains. Once the bombs do fall,  he has some incidents with other survivors and prepares for the rat invasion. He sees the occasional rat and worries about them, but there's no horde until the last chapter. The vast majority is not really about rats. I guess that's a hazard of an older book. I'm used to covers talking about the first 10-20% of a book. But in this one, the rats are less of the premise and more like the climax.

Speaking of the climax, it was just fine. I'm obsessed with rats, and I was happy they finally showed up... but it was an awfully long wait for an average action scene. Something I would have liked to see is more description of the cats, dogs, and weasels the protagonist stores. Throughout the book he collects as many of them as he can, and they're useful in the end because they kill rats. But, compared to the detail given to farming and other preparations, there's never any description of the animals. They say the animals are taking up food, but how much? Dozens of animals are a lot of mouths to feed. And he never mentions taking the dogs for walks, or waste disposal. I'm not talking about animal welfare, I'm talking about them literally being able to survive. If you're going to have tens upon tens of weasels, dogs, and cats, you need to spend most of your time maintaining them. And there's never any description of that. Are they plants?

Also, the very ending is especially bad. It's hard to end a post-nuclear apocalypse story, but this is not the way. After waves upon waves of rats, there's a king rat. The protagonist kills it, and the rest scatter. Eyeroll. Then, there's a few paragraphs, maybe a page and a half, of thinking about the future. He knows the rats will come again, but he'll breed dogs, and make more preparations. That's the end. "I'm confident we'll be ready". Very weak.

If I was hard on this book, well, it's because it's bad. The sexism was really funny, until it stopped being funny. You don't need to read this one. My personal rating: 2.5 / 5 My overall rating: 1.5 / 5