#suspense writing

[dearestaeneas]

Bite

You’re hungry.

It’s okay. You’ve been hungry before.

You’ll be hungry again.

It won’t last long. You know that much.

It’s cool today. There’s a breeze that doesn’t bite so much as nibble. That won’t last long, either. In just a few short hours, that coolness will turn to something not too unlike frost. There’s rain coming tonight.

There’s rain coming tonight, and you’re hungry.

All in all, not the worst situation to be in.

So you prowl. The underbrush doesn’t so much as crunch under the pads of your feet. You move as a mountain, the muscles in your shoulders flexing with each step. You hear the distant sound of hooves: twigs snap, leaves rustle, branches bend. They’d be scared of you, if they knew what that shape so far from them really was.

You don’t know why, though. You’re of no threat to them. Sure, sometimes you’re desperate. Who isn’t? That’s not your fault. To an outsider, this distinction wouldn’t be large enough to matter, but you know, and the deer know. It’s different.

Your stomach growls, a rumble that your throat replicates. You cannot mask your hunger, but you can at least remind the world that your hunger is a threat. It is too bright out, despite the canopy of trees above your head and the gray sky above that.

Leaves brush against your back. If you’re moving, they’ll see you. Best to lay for a while. They fear you in a way the deer do not. Perhaps it has to do with the deer sharing your home. They’re family, in a way.

This is close enough, you think to yourself. The earth bends here for you, under your weight. Your nose runs parallel to your legs, and you let out a humph! of a sigh as you wait.

As you sleep, the world begins to darken. It is not customary to sleep so in the open, but who will challenge you? Who will attempt to teach you a lesson for this deviancy?

You snored, although you did not know it. It was a deep and rumbling tone, more a feeling than a sound. They heard it for miles. You shook the world. As far as anyone could tell, you were the world.

The rain woke you, and how dare it. Droplets spattered on your nose. You yawned then, great jaws extending wider and wider. The sneeze that follows after you lick your lips surprises even you as you stand suddenly against unseen predators. There are no predators, of course. There never are.

There never will be.

Your tail wags as you lay down, and it thumps against the ground, reverberating through the trees. If there were any birds left in the trees after your sneeze, they were gone now.

You don’t mind the waiting. Even with the pain in your stomach, you’re still home. You’re comfortable and safe and soon, will be fed.

You hear them before you see them, obviously. Their feet stomp along the trail, which had been pounded into the earth by so many before them. Of course, some simply had to make it through, otherwise the trail wouldn’t be such a viable source. They’re bickering, as they often are at this hour. You smile. Your great tongue hangs from your mouth. Your breathing is louder then, but beneath the rain and the other sounds of the forest, who would really notice it?

“I told you the rain was going to start sooner than you thought,” one of them says.

“It’s not coming down too hard yet,” the other replies sheepishly. “And we’re too far to turn back now.”

You don’t understand what these words mean. You’ve heard conversations that sounded similar enough before, and all of those had been just as inconsequential as this one.

They do not see your massive form for what it is, and how could they? You tower, creating a hill of your own. The canopy will always protect you, but few will ever come as close to you when they stand and look to the heavens.

“It’s not even dark yet,” the sheep says.

“The trees are getting thicker,” comes the uneasy reply.

You stretch. Your paws snap a sapling some feet away with their weight.

Frozen silence.

Minutes pass. This moment alone is so delicious it nearly fills your stomach.

Then, one set of quick steps. “I want to go home,” the voice says. It already sounds a little farther away.

“You’re being dramatic,” is the annoyed response.

“You said we had about a mile and a half, right? I’m not taking this at a leisurely pace anymore.”

“I’m not going any faster.”

“Then get home alone.”

It is a rare joy when they separate. You don’t mind chasing after one, you don’t even mind losing one.

You study the movement of the bodies before you. The gap between them extends wider and wider.

You sniff. By now you have stopped smiling, eyes keenly following the furthest body. Its pace has accelerated greatly, and it periodically calls back: “Hurry up!”

The other body is slow, strolling as a tourist. “You’re afraid of everything!”

If they were to run, as the first body now is, they would cover the nearly two mile trek in about 20 minutes. It would not take you even a fraction of that. But the second body does not follow the first’s example.

The first body is now too far for the second to hear its calls, but you can hear them. They are more of the same. The feet never stop pounding.

You stand then. The landscape shifts with your form, and the lowest branches of the trees above you shift at the touch of your back. The body hesitates at this sound. Although the sapling had sounded much like a distant shot from a hunter’s gun, this disturbance resembled something creaking, something ancient.

“Hello?” They sound so small. Why have they stopped moving? The rain is still somewhat light, pattering gently. They are mostly protected from the elements, though the remaining light is fading fast. If they were to look, they would only see a shadow’s shadow, although there would likely be an acute awareness that the hill that had been beside their path for so long was now gone.

It wasn’t fun when it was too easy.

Your stomach grumbles as if in response. You had debated how best to remind the body before you that they were not home, and your own body had answered. The sheep gasped, and there was a panting that followed as their gait increased. They were slow. Their breathing sounded pained, their anxiety rising at a disproportionate rate and slowing the rest of their body.

You watch with curiosity. They move as if injured. You pad along beside them in silence. Eventually their breathing evens. Their pace remains somewhat faster, although it appears something in them has calmed. They are humming, quietly.

Several moments pass before you step closer to the trail. You inch your way toward them, some paces behind, until only a thin layer of forest separates you from the body.

Their eyes are forward, and as alert as they could be in the darkness. Eventually you will break the wall of greenery that separates you. The body is visibly on edge, aware of you without admitting it to itself.

Until it stops.

“Please make it quick,” the body says. Its voice is even, although quiet.

You stop. A puff of an exhale escapes your nostrils. The body had heard.

This is better than you could have imagined. You sit then, almost expectant. Your eyes are bright and intelligent, yellow in the darkness.

The body steps closer to the woods.

Your tail begins to wag, and it swishes in the forest behind you. Twigs and fallen leaves swirl. The wagging increases in intensity until the body freezes. The delight coursing through your massive body is unparalleled.

The body steps away from the forest. You can no longer contain yourself.

You step slowly onto the trail behind the body. Your massive paws straddle it. The body stares up at you, eyes wide and face pale. You slowly tilt your head down, nose only a foot or two away. They do not move.

You begin to sniff them, taking in the sweat and fear their body releases. Perhaps they are comforted by this. They slowly reach a shaking hand up, and you lower further to meet the distance. The tiny palm touches your cold, wet nose.

The body lets out something like a laugh, lets out something like relief and something not too far from hesitant joy.

You bite.

The body screams, clutching at its mangled arm with its only full one. The blood drips onto the soil. It begins to run, and you sit.

You are patient. You chew thoughtfully, though you barely chew at all. All the while your tail wags.

The body stumbles away in a sprint, emitting a hoarse screaming sob.

By now the second body is nearly gone from the wood, if not completely free. You follow, trying to appear as if you were giving chase. The body looks over the shoulder of its injured arm and sees you follow, sees the way your tongue hangs from your open mouth, hears your tail slam against trunk after trunk.

If you had been smaller, they might have had more appreciation for how beautiful the scene they witnessed was.

There is beauty in everything. There is beauty in your teeth, in your fur, in the way blood drips like rubies from your jaws.

There is beauty in the body’s eyes, the way the little brown dots appear so small in a sea of white. There is beauty in the way the body twists to cradle itself.

Your jaws snap at the body a second time, failing to tear the meat once more. This is on purpose. A wetness blossoms from the shoulder, accompanied by another cry.

The meat is stumbling now, feet catching on one another until finally it falls. There is a sticky trail behind it that your paws have passed through. The fur between your paw pads is matted with it.

It cries. It twists to face you. You are confused by this: so often does meat turn from you, so often does it refuse to face the beauty of nature.

Like the deer, perhaps this meat understands that the act itself is not borne of malice or hatred.

Do you feel a pang of regret for taunting it so?

No. Nature plays games. To play is to live is to eat.

You are quick with your meal. That, at least, is a conscious decision.

You have taken it back into the depths of the woods, and once finished, you lick your paws.

It is fully dark now.

The pain in your stomach has finally subsided.

[brigitoshaughnessy]

“Well, you know me…” followed by some detail is such a line. And then She just moves on from the conversation like something huge didn’t just happen.

What better way to inject some ambiguity into a relationship?

Like… yes, He DOES know you, Girl. And now I need to know EXACTLY how well he knows you. And what ELSE does he know about you? And what were you wearing when he found out? And what were you wearing AFTER he found out?

I’m salivating for the details.

[enchantingepics]

Story Prompt 47

In a dimly lit alley, obscured by the shadows of towering buildings, two figures stood locked in a tense confrontation. The air crackled with palpable hostility as they exchanged heated words, their voices carrying the weight of unresolved grievances.

"You think you can just walk away from this? You owe me, and you damn well know it!" spat one, his voice thick with anger.

The other, his features twisted in defiance, retorted, "I owe you nothing! You brought this upon yourself, and now you'll face the consequences."

With a sudden lunge, the first figure lunged forward, brandishing a gleaming knife in hand. The glint of steel reflected in his eyes as he made his intentions clear. In a swift and brutal motion, he began to rain down blows upon the other figure, the sound of flesh meeting steel echoing through the desolate alley.

"Stop! Please, stop!" cried the second figure, desperation tainting their voice as they attempted to fend off the relentless assault.

But the first figure was unrelenting, driven by a fervor that bordered on madness. Each stab was delivered with a savage intensity, fueled by a potent mixture of rage and vengeance.

"Too late for begging now," snarled the attacker, his voice cold and devoid of remorse. "You brought this upon yourself."

As the violence reached its crescendo, the alley was consumed by an eerie silence, broken only by the labored breaths of the wounded figure. In the dim light, the assailant's face contorted with a mixture of triumph and malice, his hands stained crimson with the evidence of his brutality.

And as the echoes of their confrontation faded into the night, a chilling realization dawned upon the wounded figure – in this unforgiving world, survival often came at a steep price, and sometimes, that price was paid in blood.

[authortoberecognized]

WRITER’S FORUM  SUSPENSE WRITING

WEBSITES HELPFUL TO WRITERS This is a series of posts which, I think, will be beneficial to writers. But first, I would like to include my usual warning about using websites. Whenever you check a website you are, in my opinion and I talk from experience, being put on a list for sale. So, expect the possibility of being bombarded by ads from companies you, perhaps, have never heard of and have…

[wickcipher]

You've Been Portal Jacked! Part 11

[Prev] [Masterpost] [Next]

Everyone you know, huh?

[chaoticallyfluffy]

Shazam identity reveal AU where the league knew Captain Marvel was a child named Billy since day one but he stubbornly refuses to transform or tell his full name for the whole 4 years he’s been on the team and everyone’s so confused because they know like. 95% of his identity already why is he hiding this specific part?

They start thinking he’s some kind of criminal or had a dark past he’s hiding from them. They know so much about him, though. They know he’s homeless, they know he’s had bad foster homes, they know his parents died tragically and his uncle stole his inheritance. he shares everything. Everything except the one thing that would show he truly trusts them. Why? What have they done to convince him they weren’t trustworthy?

Then. He accidentally transforms back during a battle. Batman instantly scans his face with the facial scanner that’s built into his mask because he’s paranoid as hell of course he has one of those. And he sees exactly why he hid it for so long.

The tension in the air is so palpable that the entire league feels it and they look back and forth between them waiting for the bomb to drop.

Cyborg is the one who blurts it out (he IS a facial scanner)

“Your last name is BAT SON??”

Billy groans into his hands in defeat and Batman sighs, finally understanding why the secret was kept so desperately.

From then on the league refuses to call Billy anything other than Big Red Robin or just Big Robin. Robin but big. they call Batman Captain Dad at every possible opportunity. Whenever Billy does something wrong someone threatens to tell his dad on him then call Batman. The robins last names may as well not exist because from then on they are only ever called Damian Bat-son or Red Hood Bat-son or Stephanie Bat-daughter, except for Red Robin who’s called Little Red Robin or, if they’re feeling brave, the Little Red Cheese. The bat children and Billy’s nicknames become so confusing and meshed together that conversations get very confusing and the names just become interchangeable. The press is convinced that Captain Marvel is Batman’s secret love child within a week.

It gets so chaotic so fast, no one knows how this happened but names mean nothing anymore and Batman is getting a DNA test. So much opportunity for chaos!

[daily-prompts]

“If your writing doesn't keep you up at night, it won't keep anyone else up either.” ― James M. Cain

[suspensefulpen]

Darling is such a powerful word to me

Imo you use that word for someone you are truly, deeply in love with. This person is your world, your everything, you can’t live without them.

On the other hand, you use that word for someone you’re extremely possessive of. You call someone that and they’re yours for all of eternity, whether they like it or not. No one else can have them because they’re yours if they know or not is completely irrelevant.

Now, imagine Whumpee being called that by both Caretaker and Whumper…

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Tips: Plot Twists

tips from Anthony Horowitz

Don’t underestimate the planning. "I put everything down on paper. I make copious pages and pages of notes until I am ready to write and by the time I do sit down at my desk, I have a sort of a map of where I'm going and everything is going to work." Horowitz says. Make sure, though, that you leave a little room to surprise yourself when you get to the page: “If I can't surprise myself, how can I surprise my reader?”

Start with a simple formula. Not sure how that plan should begin? There’s a Horowitz Hack for that: “Start with a simple formula,” he advises. “A plus B equals C. A equals one person, B is another person, C is the reason why A murders B. That's your bullseye. If that's original and interesting and surprising enough, then you can tell us who A and B are, and and that's your next ring. Once you’ve got the basics,” he explains, “you can build out into the worlds your characters occupy, who knows them and how they know each other.”

People should be able to guess the twist. Want to know the secret of a killer plot twist? It should be obvious enough for people to potentially guess it – but surprising enough that they rarely actually do. One of the major influences on Horowitz’s work was Agatha Christie, an author who he says always surprises him but “you always feel you could have guessed because all the information has been down there in front of you. When I’m writing my book, I’m very influenced by that. When my publisher or my agent or anybody else reads one of my books, the first question I ask is not ‘Did you enjoy it?’ but, ‘Did you guess it?’ Because that, to me, is the crux of the matter. If they do guess it, I feel a sense of disappointment but at the same time, if they can't get it, then I haven't played fair. What I prefer to do is for them to say, 'No, I didn't get it, but I should have.' That's what I'm aiming for.”

Live inside your book. “There’s one piece of advice I would give to writers: don't stand on the edge of the book, looking over the edge of the chasm. Live inside the book looking around you,” Horowitz says. “What my characters see, I see. What they feel – the wind or the sunshine – I feel. If I'm inside the book, I'm not thinking about it as being something that you or anybody else will read. I am merely inside the world of the book – all that comes later.”

The only rule is originality. “If you ask me what are the do’s and don’ts in writing a whodunnit or a murder mystery? Quite simply, there aren’t any. Never constrain yourself. It is by doing the don'ts and not doing the do’s that you will write the completely original book for you – and find success.”

Source ⚜ More: Notes & References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

[bobbysdeath]

so either he's rising in the finale or this show stopped existing as something legitimate a few episodes ago

[thilsiktonix]

small little doodle page for you @niceguyanonymous !!!!!

((I tried my best, I'm not a very good writer, but I hope you like it <33 sorry I didn't put too much detail into this one, I wasn't sure how exactly to interpret it!))

[going2hell4everythingbutbeingbi]

btw if you write a teen character with any kind of powers they better do some dumb shit with those powers or I'm unsuspending my disbelief

[minty364]

DPXDC Prompt#148 Part 2

Danny feels himself grow bright red and the two stare into each other's eyes for what felt like an eternity. 

“I- Uh… I’m Danny” He finally managed to mutter. 

“Damian Wayne, its a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Danny's blush grew even brighter as the next moment Damian kissed his hand, Danny couldn’t help but feel flustered. 

After a moment  Danny rubbed the back of his neck with his hand and stuttered out, “It’s nice, to meet you too” He could tell how happy Damian was to meet him and he felt a little bad for feeling nervous in the first place. Danny thought Damian was cute and he decided then that he wouldn’t mind getting to know him a little better. First they had to get through the rest of the gala, and soon as he thought about the gala something clicked. 

He realized Damian was the son of Bruce Wayne who at the moment was talking to his own parents. He couldn’t help but stare as he let the information sink in. 

“Ah yes it looks like Father is talking to some of the scientists that were invited.” Ancients, Danny knew his parents couldn’t help being themselves and unfortunately that meant things like accidentally spilling fudge right onto Mr. Wayne's suite. They watched as Mr. Wayne told his parents it wasn’t a problem and then walked out of the room. 

Danny couldn’t help but sigh, “Sorry about them, my parents are a little eccentric. Don’t even get me started on their obsession with ghosts, my dad will not shut up sometimes.” Danny rubbed the back of his neck nervously again as he realized he was rambling a little bit. 

“Don’t worry it looks like Father handled the situation well, although I am curious what kind of inventions two scientists obsessed with ghosts create. That’s what this gala is about, we want to support scientists in untapped fields of study.” Danny listened as his soulmate explained things to him. 

Danny looked over to see Vlad talking to a thin scientist in the corner of the room. He was definitely up to something, a ball like this had Vlad scheming something with a mad scientist written all over it. 

He was brought out from his thoughts as a loud crash could be heard as the wall across the room burst open and none other than the Joker walked through.

Danny tried to make his way to the other side of the gala, strangely Damian had disappeared but Danny didn’t have the time to look for him.  

However when he got to the door staying low to the ground the door burst through and more of Joker's goons looked straight at him and he found himself tied up right in front of the Joker. 

“What do we have here? A new Wayne?” Joker said as he cupped Danny's face in his hand. Danny couldn’t do anything about the situation and he was getting a little scared considering he didn’t have a proper way to go ghost or protect his soulmate at the moment. 

The Joker circled around the tied up hostages laughing, “Of course now the fun begins”

The Joker continued to circle around the hostages thinking for a moment before he grabbed Danny.

He held Danny by the back of the shirt like a small kitten. His obsession was making him wonder if his soulmate was safe living in Gotham. Joker chuckled as he continued to hold Danny.

“This kid will be an example for the rest of you, I don’t want any outbursts like that again, especially when Batman gets here. Do you think Batman will like what I’ve done with the place?” He asked as he gestured around the ruined room. All of the tables and chairs had either been broken or knocked over and all of the food from the dessert and appetizer tables. It was quite the mess. Before Joker could do much else with the teen he had dangling in his grasp something flew out and smacked Joker right in the back of the head causing him to drop Danny.

Danny took that opportunity to get away, his hands may have been tied but his feet were sure free. He stumbled away as Batman dropped down and a fight between him and the Joker commenced. 

Danny ran towards the door and as he got there Robin and Nightwing were there ushering some of the other hostages out of the room. 

“Right this way citizens!” Nightwing said brightly at them but he seemed to brighten up a bit more when he saw Danny weirdly. 

“Have either of you seen Damian Wayne?” Danny asked, he at least wanted to get his number, especially when he was headed back to Amity soon.

They seemed to share a look before looking back at him, “Damian left, he’s headed safely back to Wayne manor.” Robin said but he held out a piece of paper. On it was Damians signature and his phone number. Danny sighed a little annoyed he had left but he guessed it was common to head back home after a rogue attack in Gotham. 

“Danny!!” the booming voice of Jack Fenton was suddenly heard and Danny felt himself getting pulled into a very familiar bear hug. 

“Did you have fun at the gala? Your father and I saw you talking to Mr. Wayne's son,” His mother said after his feet were back on the ground. 

“Yeah, actually can we talk about that after we’re back in our room?” He wanted to tell his parents he found his soulmate but saying that outloud when Damian was the son of Bruce Wayne sounded like a bad idea. 

They headed back to the hotel room and all Danny could think about was how lucky he was to have met his soulmate tonight, even if he was nervous about everything.

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[fishhateme]

So... LinkedIn au part two, anyone?

this morning @adimouze got an actual linkedin notification while reading part one and a sign is a sign, so here goes part two of the linkedin au (btw if you think there's suspiciously not enough linkedin in here it's because i genuinely hate that capitalist hellhole with all my heart <3)

“Don’t worry, mate. People on LindkedIn are a bunch of cunts, anyway”

Max would have gasped, if he’d had less dignity, as he watched the man - Daniel, Daniel, Danyul in the flesh, the little icon from his LinkedIn feed, now sitting in the shitty bar, in front of him - swirl his $12 glass of rosé and sip it, scrunching up his nose the same way Sassy did when Max didn’t get her those little overpriced packets of turkey flavored wet food.

“Uh- I would say of course not everyone on LinkedIn is a cunt, maybe” Max said, completely and utterly dumbfounded, half because he was more than a little buzzed and half because he’d spent so much time thinking about finding Daniel that he hadn’t actually thought out what he’d do then (didn’t think he’d get this far, really). He could almost picture Lando laughing maniacally at the blush that was spreading all the way from his chest (thankfully hidden by his plain, black tee) to the very top of his ears, and he thanked whatever God was out there (Sir Isaac Newton, can you hear me?) that the younger engineer was too busy trying to pick up some Spanish car designer on the other side of the convention.

Max could blame the blush on the g&t’s, and not on the fact that his little virtual networking crush (what had his life come to) had the most dazzling smile he’d ever seen, staring him straight in the eyes.

“I would say that they are, then, if you don’t have the balls to” Daniel, who still hadn’t introduced himself, responded with a cheeky smirk, “They’re all stuck up pricks. They act like they only care about furthering physics and science and the greater good when all they want is their name on a plaque somewhere and a couple of sports cars so they can wank off to the airflow of the diffusers or some shit”

Max thought that was such a ridiculous notion, that respected aerodynamics engineers would spend their entire careers longing for a luxury car (and- okay, yeah, his desktop was an Aston Martin Valkyrie, but that was different, he knew that was just as out of his league as the guy standing in front of him right now). Furthermore, a pesky voice in the back of his head that sounded an awful lot like Jos was telling him that this guy was an ingrate, a disrespectful, unprofessional man who’d get nowhere, but Max bit his tongue and then washed it away with a gulp of his g&t, letting Daniel speak because he clearly wanted to rant.

“I’m serious, mate, all these people ever come to do to conventions like this is flaunt their achievements. Like-” he adjusted his stance, wiggling his body so he could move the shitty bar stool without actually getting up, suddenly getting very, very much in Max’s personal space, his thick, meaty thigh (who wore shorts to a networking event? This guy was crazy) almost brushing against Max’s knee as he leaned over to whisper and point, “See him? That’s Zak Brown, he owns McLaren Aerodynamics.”

Shit, wasn’t that Lando’s boss? Now Max felt ever so slightly guilty for nodding along to the Brit’s rants about his work, without actually ever hearing anything. “If you talk to him, he’ll invite you to a game of golf, and if you say yes he’ll take you there in a Lambo and offer you a round of Chandon or some shit, his treat. You know how he gets all that money? Because people love to spend it, shit, I love it too, but don’t you ever stop to think about where it comes from?”

Daniel leaned in even closer, his hot breath against the scorching heat of Max’s helplessly flushed ear, his words ever so slightly slurred like maybe it hadn’t been his first rosé. Maybe he’d started off with something stronger in his car (was pregaming work conventions... a thing?), and now he was trying to look semi-dignified and failing.

“He gets it from defense contracts”

Max blinked owlishly at that, like maybe he’d heard it wrong. Surely he didn't mean to say what it sounded like he was, at the very least, implying. “Uh- what? I thought they made, like…” he tried to concentrate, genuinely wrack his brain to remember what Lando had mentioned “Uh, trains? High speed trains, don’t they- isn’t that what they make?”

Daniel laughed at that, a honky, unabashed laugh, throwing his head back and showing off those pearly whites as his curl bounced. “That’s what they’ll tell you on their website, mate. That they care about the environment and are working with the UK government to make-” hic, “Make uhh, a- a greener future or some shit. And- yes, they’ve got contracts with the UK government, plenty of ‘em, but most of them are defense”

At Max’s shocked expression, at his gaping mouth, Daniel sighed and rubbed his face with his hands, and yeah, he was definitely more drunk than Max, somehow.

“Missiles! They make missiles, Maxy”

Max didn’t think Lando was capable of even designing a missile for a fruit fly, much less for… actual humans. Fish, maybe. But humans seemed odd. “How are you so sure?”

Daniel seemed to deflate at that, like everyone had said the same thing. He pulled back, elbows on the bar and head hung low between his sagged shoulders, and Max found himself missing the warmth of his tattooed thigh against his knee, even though he still felt feverish from the alcohol and the flusteredness of it all.

The Aussie hiccuped again, blinking a couple of times. “Worked there” he said, and he sounded almost beaten down as he added, “Then I quit. Eeeh, not true, actually, got fired. Publicly it was a mutual agreement. Doesn’t matter” he stopped to down what was left of his rosé, grimacing although it must have been quite a pleasant, sweet taste, not at all a man’s drink, like Jos would say. “Now I make about a tenth of what I did and I teach the next generation of missile designers how to maximize… missileness”

Max hummed, quietly. He didn’t quite know what to say at that - he made a mental note to ask Lando about some things on the drive back, sure, but other than that. He got a sense that maybe the funny LinkedIn man had turned into a sad, hot, somehow still funny LinkedIn man.

Maybe he just needed a friend. Someone to listen.

Max grimaced at that last thought, scrunching up his face and staring down at his g&t with hatred, like his favorite drink had been tainted with feelings, and they were rapidly making his way into his bloodstream.

What was he even thinking?! Sure, the guy was funny and clearly had had some success at some point of his career and he was kind of possibly the hottest man Max had ever seen but he was also clearly a loser. Besides, they were strangers! They hadn’t even introduced themselves to each other! Daniel didn’t even know Max’s-

Wait.

“How do you know my name?”

Daniel’s eyes, previously fixed on a poster of a cowboy that advertised some sort of insurance Max couldn't care less about, widened almost comically. He stared at him for a beat too long before chuckling awkwardly. “Uuuuh, what?”

“You called me Maxy. You said, they make missiles, Maxy” Max said, finally feeling the expected effect of his g&t’s, that was, some fucking courage. “How do you know my name is Max”

A second passed.

Then another.

Then a third, and by the fourth Max had just now noticed the convention was blasting some shitty, outdated jazz music, which worked more as a sleep inducer than a mood setter.

By the fifth, Max was thinking maybe Daniel wouldn’t answer, so he doubled down and looked eyes with him, but Daniel immediately looked away, flustered and biting down on his plush, pink lip, frowning as if deep in thought. “Uuuuh” he stammered, rubbing his face with the heels of his palms again, chuckling awkwardly, “Would it be too lame to say I follow you on LinkedIn?”

part 3

[whos-the-seme]

"That won't help you," A voice said from behind him, thin and lilting.

Shen Yuan nearly screamed in frustration and threw down the talismans he had been trying to activate with the drops of qi he had left. He had known that it wouldn't work, especially when the characters on them were barely even legible anymore, but he couldn't help but try. His blood had smeared them when he had collapsed onto the ground earlier, exhausted of everything he had and then some.

He had managed to crawl to a copse of trees and sat up against a tree trunk to figure something out, but it was futile.

"You're scared."

Shen Yuan shook his head desperately as if to rid his head of the voice that seemed to pierce his ears, tears spilling down his cheeks, before nodding just as furiously. "Of course I'm scared! I'm terrified. Don't you know how your story ends?"

"I do know. This one has lived it, again and again," The ghost of Shen Jiu said, tilting his head, face eerily blank. He didn't blink. He never did. "This one was due to relive it, for as long as it takes. That is, until you took my place. But it doesn't matter anymore."

"It doesn't matter anymore? You would say that," Shen Yuan said. He was beginning to feel a numbness overtake him, and thumped his head against the tree trunk behind him to try to snap back to himself. He couldn't float away now. Shen Jiu wouldn't be able to take over for him. It was too close to the finale. "You're already dead! And I'm still here. So what do you fucking know? "

"Not much, I admit." Shen Jiu floated closer, reaching out to him. "But I know that you can no longer run. And I was right, wasn't I?"

"What are you even talking about?" Shen Yuan picked up the sounds of movement in the far distance. It sounded like the footsteps of a person. Of multiple people. They were looking for him. And he had left an entire trail of blood, leading right to him.

"I told you, in the beginning, to make sure you knew what you were doing. And I told you that even if you hide"—an icy hand sunk into his chest—"it doesn't go away."

[purplecelestial-buddy]

Allow me to go insane about perhaps the entirety of chapter 28

First and foremost, we are in it since page 1.

The fact that we are watching this interaction develop from the pov of the guys (since we are watching Hirano from above, like Kagi would and we are watching Kagi from below, like Hirano would) is totally insane.

This exchange is kind of so funny because Kagi says Hanzawa is gone and Hirano, who I would argue is still kind of processing the... straightforwardness and "strengh" (that's the only word I have rn) of the hug request is standing there like "and what does that even have to do with us?" and to some degree this is very important to me because this is Hirano we are talking about. Marriage = civial law Hirano. The 10 secs rule cannot exclude hair because it's made from protein just like skin, Hirano.

I need you to understand that this man has one hell of a convoluted thought process and in other situations he has taken mere seconds to come up with some weird analysis just so he can win whatever debate him and Kagi are having. AND REGARDLESS here we head a head empty no thought Hirano, he's thinking of one thing and one thing only, that being the hug and how it will fit in the puzzle that is his relationship with Kagi. And the hand clenching. Gosh the hand clenching. If only I had a nickel for everytime Kagi closes his fist or grabs at stuff to physically stop himself from crossing the line I would be a millionare. The hand clenching even makes me wonder if he actually belives no one will see them. In fact this is such a funny scene in the sense that Hirano is completely focused in their interactions and Kagi is the one coming up with unexpected loopholes to validate his actions.

I always think back on the "that passion... is focused squarely on me" scene whenever I see this expression on Kagi.

In fact it's interest to see how his expression has changed along with his feelings, desires and expectations about Hirano.

Let's do a timeline:

This was the first instance in which Kagi ever thought about kissing Hirano:

This is the passion scene I was referencing:

And then there's Kagi now who always looks five seconds away from devouring Hirano.

So it's no suprise that Hirano looks uncomfortable. This is the same passion and drive he has always admired from Kagi but now it isnt a driving force used to put effort in basketball or to study so that they can remain roomies, it's being used to expose Hirano to as many romantic situations as posible in hopes that he can reach a conclusion, hopefully a romantic one. And that a very complex expectation because romance and dating are uncharted terriotory for Hirano so ofc he's even more cautious than he tends to be and gosh I'm projecting but I dont think people get how GODDAMN frsutrating and tbh scary it is to know people are expecting something from you when 1. you arent sure what that would even entail and 2. you arent sure if you could perfom even if you knew it.

So anyway, what happens next is very important: (but there's also the whole translation deal so... let's take it with a grain of salt(? (I'll put in italics all the comments/analysis that was biased by the mangadex translation)

Kagi makes his request, Hirano is squeamish and he begrudgingly agrees because that's isnt he kind of thing he "cant's say no to"

As in, he isnt allowed to stop each and every of Kagi's advanced even if they arent directed towards something he's comfortable with simply because theirs is a delicate situation and first and foremost he wants to keep Kagi close. And keeping Kagi close and remaining as roomies is heavily dependant on him not breaking Kagi's hard so he can't refuse all advances right? Because he's pretty much uncomfotable with all things romantic but he can't properly deny Kagi a relationship unless he knows how a relationship would work, right? (I think that fron here onwards the things would remain the same regardless of translation)

And I love that here Kagi inmediately panics and backtracks. Because many things can be said about Kagi, he's passionate, he's intense, he can come on to strong but he would never want to hurt Hirano. He would rather lose sleep and study than stop having his presence close, he would rather clench his fist and stand at the line than ever cross it. Because ven if he would get what he desired he would lose the person he loves the most.

And this whole thing was a kinda tense so when Hirano finally exhales so can we as an audience. And we proceed to get back to typical hrkg antincs of "but are you 100% sure that I'm not presurring you into doing this because I wouldnt want to do this is you arent on board" x "stop whining and going in circles, let's do this and get over with it"

And once again we get Kagi's pov of Hirano. And I dont know if it would be crazy to say that it feel different than the first one but for starters now we see more of Hirano, other than his face and you can see the uncertainty in his hands.

Then comes the hug which is honestly the one and only reason I started this whole ramble.

First, let's look at past hrkg hugs: We have the famous infirmary one. And I want to draw your attention at a few points; first Kagi grabs Hirano sort of by the shoulders, in the 2nd page at the 3rd panel of the sequence Kagi pulls Hirano into the hug, a futile attempt to make it feel more reciprocal I would say and then he squeezes Hirano.

Now, this chapter's hug has much more movement.

In fact it's six pages long

Its starts fairly similar, with Kagi sorta holding Hirano by the shoulders

and it goes down from there

This... this panel haunts me. This is not the face of someone that's comfortable. We can guess that the culprit might be Kagi's hand on Hirano's waist since it's much more lower than where he usually puts his hands.

And no one is comfortable with this so, Kagi soon realizes and again, he backtracks

We finish with the usual hearty squeeze, this time there's no need to get pulled for it to be reciprocal since Hirano relies/lays on Kagi.

And then of course we have the guilt and crisis of feeling uncomfortable ("repulsed" is one of the word choices being questioned)

I don't have much to say about the rest, Hirano gets thinking thoughts, realizes that maybe it can work out if he's the one doing the hugging and we all celebrate.

(also, I find it so funny that all of their "realization" moments have literally the same page composition. I wonder if it's a Harusono quirk of if there's deeper meaning. In fact, the line gets straighther each time so maybe it's all about how they are reaching an understanding of each other )

Then he have a much more comfortable hug and perhaps some of the most kira kira sparkly pages we've ever had

In summary this chapter is very important cuz:

1. We (Hirano included) see Kagi backtracking. This is important because Hirano has gone from not realizing the dept of Kagi's desires to being aware that Kagi will never push him to do anything he's not comfortable with.

2. Kagi says that he knows how much care, which surely lifted a heavy weight from Hirano's shoulders and will helps us in the future

3. Hirano basically learned how to say no and that he has a right to work things in his own way (can be debated based on the translation but I feel the point would still be something to worry over in general(?)