The Bittersuite
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Listing Series
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Keep Spinning, Dance Myself To Death by Shaylinne
Fandoms: Arcane: League of Legends (Cartoon 2021)
08 Sep 2022
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Summary
The book says that the first step to all this shit is looking at yourself.
Jayce twists in front of the mirror, his back arching and flexing and bellowing and cracking in front of shimmering glass, a valley of scabbed-over wounds, hills, and lakes of scar tissue; the only similarities in the landscape of his skin is that they’ve all been mapped by Viktor’s slender, quivering fingers. And that’s half of his fucking problem, isn’t it? ¨
Viktor is dying, that much is sure.
Jayce is bad at introspection, that much is also sure.Series
- Part 1 of The Bittersuite
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Summary
It wouldn’t be revolutionary to say that Jayce was fickle. It wouldn’t be revolutionary to say that his attention is an easy thing to seize and terribly difficult to keep.
He’s not ignorant enough to say that he’s a perfect man, or even a good one. He’s aware enough to look at himself and see a mosaic of fuckups. So, he’s as surprised as the rest of the world to learn that if he’s given a set of monotonous tasks for someone’s he’s committed to; he knocks them out like clockwork.
Series
- Part 2 of The Bittersuite
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Summary
Here’s something that the pamphlets say, but also don’t:
Jayce has a plant in the corner of his office that he knows he’s supposed to water. It’s a gift from Mel, and he doesn’t know why she entrusted him with it, but she did and now it’s not that he’s forgetting to water it; it’s that he’s walking into the room, noticing that it needs watering, but sitting down at his desk to knock some work out and swearing that he’ll do it when he gets up again.
But he doesn’t, because he’s just not like that. He pours over everything that’s late, and notices how the pile’s growing instead of shrinking, and he only gets up when he hears a crash and in the time it takes him to shove his ass off the chair and dart to the door, he’s already imagined four ways that Viktor could crack his head open on the kitchen tiles and that’d be the end of it.
Jayce, and Jayce's anticipatory grief, the third version.
Series
- Part 3 of The Bittersuite
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Summary
You’re buttoning your trousers in a woman’s gilded bathroom while the love of your life is dying. And the love of your life is not the smooth skin and swell breasts that’s looking at you with questioning, wide eyes, like it’s all in how you hold your body. But you’re still here—and that says something about you, but it also says something about the situation.
Shit, you have urges. Fuckin’ sheesh. Stop looking like that. Men have urges. Men want to fight and fuck and they want to burn an evening into nothing but embers by watching a sport they don’t really care about on a flickering screen in a bar that smells of vinegar and old death. Light—the foolish thing—thinks it travels faster than anything in the universe, but it’s wrong. No matter how fast the light travels, the darkness is as much an entity as the light and gets there first, waiting for the altar to be illuminated once again, waiting.
Men want to talk like they have something to say even when it’s hilariously obvious. And you’re a man. Men want to kiss the tar on the highway, too. Before you’re a person, you’re a man. You’re a man and you’re acting like a teenage girl shoplifting nickel earrings when she’s extra tired of holding the house down.
Series
- Part 4 of The Bittersuite