#I'm taking it as a sign he's going to show up somewhere and his mysterious past will be explained or something

[mundane-herta]

So, Ratio is totally definitely somehow related to titankin, right?

His codex is very similar to that of the furiae philosopher, and he holds it pretty similarly to that of the furiae philosopher.

The titankin even turn into statues of themselves when idle! You know who has a bunch of statues of himself? Dr. Veritas Ratio!!!!!

Not only that, but they have the same color palette! The same blues, whites, and golds are used!

(And there's the idea of Ratio being really old -- discussed more in-depth here -- that comes from the simulated universe, which would align with theories of Amphoreus being a world being replayed within remembrance crystals, which might explain March's reaction to being in proximity to Amphoreus)

[bouncybongfairy]

Hiii, could you please do a live action jet x reader smut? Where the reader is a water bender and he meets her when he meets sokka and Katara, she knows hes kind of a bad person but she can't help being into him. You don't have to do exactly that, just a idea!

Rude Boy

Jett x Fem Reader Smut

Summary: Needing to take a break from travel, your group stops to rest in the Earth Kingdom village of Gaipan. After meeting Jett and the Freedom Fighters, you can't help but be charmed by his bad boy persona. He invites you out to the city for a wild night.

Word Count: 1.0k+

Ref Account: @kaionyx

TW: Rough Smut.

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

You guys had been flying for hours and the sun was starting to go down. Anng decided that they would find somewhere to set up camp for the night. Appa was getting tired so they needed somewhere soon and Gaipan was the nearest village. Nothing seemed off at first, Katara and Sokka were arguing about the most efficient way to set up their tent. Anng made sure Appa was comfortable when Jett and the Freedom Fighters made their appearance. After they explained their disposition, they joined you around the fire. Jett was sitting right next to you, telling these lavish stories of glory and riches. Katara wasn’t impressed by his show boating and was disappointed you weren’t seeing it. After he was out of ear shot, all she could talk about was how he was a bad guy and not to be trusted. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t see the signs that he was up to no good. You just didn’t give a fuck. His dominant personality was quite charming. How he didn’t tolerate anything he was unhappy with. You loved everyone in the group and have grown to be like family. However, being happy-go lucky and optimistic all the time was emotionally taxing. As Katara used her water bending to put out the fire, Jett pulled you aside. 

“Hey I was wondering if maybe you wanted to come into town with me later tonight?” He asked. 

“Oh uh- yeah I think I would be able to sneak away,” you said, looking over to see if anyone was watching. 

“Great, I'll meet you here, in an hour or two,” he says while catching up with his group. 

You were practically snaking with excitement. For so long, you’d been surrounded with morality and sunshine. You were excited to break away from that, do something that made you feel alive. Laying on your back in the tent, waiting until you felt everyone was actually asleep. Your heart was racing, trying to avoid anything on the ground that could make noise. Jett was waiting for you where he said, resting his hands on the handles of his hook swords. He smiled once he saw you, joking about how he was starting to think you bailed. 

“No, not at all! I’m really looking forward to seeing the night life in the city,” you explained. 

“Well, I’m excited to show you.” he said, holding his hand out for you to take. 

It wasn’t long before the two of you reached the night market he was intent on visiting. It was really nice, several food stands that were making your mouth water. He pulled out a large bag of coins, and made your eyes widen a little. You couldn’t remember the last time you saw that much money in one place. Never giving you a straight answer when you asked how he acquired the money. The mysteriousness was only adding to his bravado. After walking the full length of the market, he took you to a really scenic spot. At the top of a hill, overlooking all the lights in the city. Laying on a bed of soft grass while enjoying the view. 

“So how did you really get all that money?” you asked, laying your head against his shoulder; admiring his side profile. 

“The less you know the better,” he chuckled. 

“It’s okay if it’s bad. I know the group I'm with isn’t the most open minded but the Fire Nation made the world like this. Impossible to survive so why can’t we break a few rules to withstand their wrath you know?” you explained. 

“Finally, someone that gets it,” he said, turning to face you.

Your lips were only a couple inches from his. Smelling the alcohol on his breath from a drink he’d gotten earlier that night. Everything about him was just so unacceptable, his attitude, outlook on life and his moral compass was so wrong. You were tired of trying to figure out why that was so intriguing. Shamelessly giving in to your temptations. Wanting to test the waters slowly, you brush your bottom lip against his. In return he melts his mouth into yours. Running his tongue over your lip, grabbing your face with his hands. Breathing hard out your nose, trying to get air in when you could. He rolled on top of you, pressing his pelvis into yours. Starting to kiss and nip at your neck as the two of you rock your hips together. He sits up abruptly, your lips separating with a wet pop sound. Now on his knees, he pulls out his hook swords and tosses them to the side. 

For the few seconds he was hovering over you with the blades, your skin prickles with goosebumps. He looked so powerful and menacing, it made you feel hazy. Dropping back down, his hands coming down hard on either side of your head. You flinched a little, which made him chuckle before pulling your top off. Of course, you eagerly help him remove it. Your back arched off the ground as he took one of your nipples into his mouth. Swirling and flicking his tongue while pinching and pulling at the other. Your head falling back against the grass, both mind and body fully engulfed with pleasure. Your clit was aching and feeling yourself getting wetter wasn’t helping. 

“Can I ride you?” you asked. 

“No, I wanna fuck you until you’re braindead,” he says, flipping you onto your stomach. 

Pushing your ass up and grinding against his leaking member. Spreading his pre-cum all over your skin before focusing his tip on your entrance. Teasing for a few moments before burying himself inside your heat. He started rocking his hips slowly, pulling out fully before sliding back in. Biting and sucking hickies on your shoulder. Trying his best not to animalistically pound you into the ground. Moaning every time he fully pressed his cock inside you; his head kissing your cervix every time he snapped his hips. Your head was turned to the side, perfect angle for him to shove two fingers into your mouth. Massaging your tongue and prodding down your throat. Letting out a moaning as you gagged and drooled. Wet slapping sounds came from how hard he was thrusting. Taking his hand out of your mouth and brushing the hair out of your face so he could see your expressions. Spreading your drool all over your face in the process, while making patronizing cooing noises at you. Your body went limp, barely audible uh-uh-uh’s coming out of your mouth. Seeing you turned into a fucked out pile of need was steering him closer to climax. Having no remorse and using your body for pleasure was his only goal. Pounding away at you with such force, your skin was becoming sore and reddened. Pressing his full body weight into you, pulling your hair to expose your neck and biting down as he came. Snapping his hips into you every time he shoots thick ropes of cum into your belly. Grunting and growling into your neck as he rode out his high. He got the two of you semi dressed before passing out where you two laid in the grass. Too fucked out to care about the repercussions and responsibilities that tomorrow holds.

[enmstorytime]

The Therapist

I chose the cheap graduate program, the one that I could complete without taking out student loans. I needed the degree to pursue a career as a therapist.

I don't know if my mistake was upsetting my professor, or if my mistake was signing up for the hypnosis course. I haven't asked any of my classmates if they suffer from the same condition. I'm afraid they don't. And if they don't, and they found out the condition that I suffer from, I worry that they could get my license revoked.

I know that whatever is happening to me started in that hypnosis class. There was one class period, where I remember walking into class, making a joke at my professor's expense, and then I don't remember the class. I remember waking up in my bedroom, ten miles from campus. I normally slept naked, so I wasn't concerned when I rolled out of bed naked. What made me realize that something had happened was the fact that my car wasn't in the parking lot. My clothes from the day before were also nowhere to be found. Somehow, I had made my way from campus to my apartment and somewhere along the way my clothes had vanished. I found my car on campus, but I never found my clothing. And I never knew if anyone had seen me naked that day. All the smirks and knowing looks my classmates gave me from that point could have just been my imagination.

That class was ten years ago. Eventually, I pushed that weird morning out of my mind and decided I must have taken the bus, and stripped on my front stoop. Some neighbor probably thought my abandoned clothes were litter and cleaned them up.

At least I allowed myself this thought, until my graduation party, when one of my peers showed me a picture of me sitting completely naked on the city bus, my face blank, my hands behind my head, my legs crossed.

"What the fuck is this?" I asked him.

"You don't remember this day, man?" my classmate asked. "This was the minute I started respecting you man. You just sat there so confident on the bus, your cock out for the world to see."

"That never happened, you sick fuck," I said. "You probably asked AI to make this image."

But I also had to admit that AI had gotten a lot right, if this was in fact AI. There was the mole on my hip. My nipples were the exact right size and in the right place, and my cock was the right size when I was flaccid and the circumcision looked right.

"Dude, I wouldn't spend my time making AI naked pictures of you," my classmate said, getting angry now. "Besides, I asked if I could take your picture, and you told me to go ahead."

"I don't remember that," I said, remembering the day I had mysteriously left my car on campus. Apparently those clothes I never found were somewhere between my hypnosis class and the bus station. But anyone riding the number 7 bus that afternoon got an eye full of me.

I dreaded that as I started my practice other passengers would post those pictures online, and some client would come into my office to confront me with my nudes.

What I didn't expect was to wake up one afternoon two years ago, five years into running my own therapy practice, in the middle of a session with a barrel chested, clean-cut daddy, completely naked.

The daddy was laid out across the couch in leather handcuffs, a collar, and a cock cage, his business suit coat hanging on the back of the office door, the rest of his clothes piled up and rumpled right at the office door.

Searching for my own clothes, I saw that my client's messenger bag was over stuffed, a pant leg and one of my argyle dress socks sticking out of the side.

"What the fuck is going on here," I asked, hurriedly covering my penis with my hands. My client jumped.

"What do you mean?" He asked, sitting up, and covering his caged cock with his own hands.

"I mean, why are we naked?" I asked. "Why the hell are my clothes in your bag?"

"Is this some kind of fucked up exposure therapy?" My client asked, sounding angry. "You were the one who answered your office door butt naked, and told me today we'd try something new. You handed me your clothes and told me that whatever you said, I needed to take them with me at the end of the session."

"Obviously that will not be happening," I said, standing up while still covering myself and crossing to open his bag.

"What the hell is going on here?" My client demanded. "I was actually making breakthroughs before whatever the fuck this is."

"I don't care about your fucking breakthroughs," I said. "I mean, I do, but I'm naked here. This is entirely unacceptable."

"Is this some kind of test," the man asked, his anger soothing. "Yeah, that's what this is," he said, standing up and blocking my path to his bag. "You told me not to let you take your clothes back, no matter what you said. I need to be a man of my word, huh? That's what this is about."

"No, it's not," I said, trying to get past him.

But he took his hands off his cock and started to use his arms to block me from reaching my clothing that he had somehow gotten from me.

"I'm sorry to have reacted so poorly to this test he said, pushing me away, and I fell backward on the rug, catching myself with my hands, my legs flying up to expose pole and hole to my client. "I really didn't expect any therapist to go to these lengths to help me. I can't thank you enough."

He grabbed his clothes, but didn't take the time to get dressed. Instead he pushed my office door open, his clothes bunched in his hands in front of his crotch, his messenger bag with all of my clothes swinging off his shoulder.

I spent too long debating whether or not I should follow him, and by the time I decided I should, as I stepped out of my office door, hands glued to privates, I watched his car backing out of his parking space through the waiting room's front windows.

I also saw my next client sitting waiting, and they certainly saw me.

I ducked back into my office, and shouted to the receptionist to cancel the rest of my appointments for the day because I wasn't feeling well.

The client who saw me standing in my office doorway with nothing but my hands covering me never came back for another session.

My receptionist, a hot young college guy did come back to my office to run some paperwork past me. He didn't knock, just barged in, catching me with my back to the office door, standing at the window, peeking around the curtains.

"You're naked," he said.

I turned around, flushing red, and quickly covering my privates again.

"No need to hide it," he said. "I've seen a cock before."

"But not your boss's cock," I said, walking to my desk where I could hide at least my lower half.

The rug in my office felt soft under my bare heels and toes, but my ass also jiggled obscenely in front of my receptionist, who was grinning stupidly and certainly not looking at my face.

"No, I've never seen my boss's cock," he said, and closed the door behind him. "But I'd certainly like to."

It was the right words, and my body reacted with very little thought. I had hired my receptionist because of his easy boy-next-door grin. I'd spent hours fantasizing about taking the glasses off his face to look him in the eye. I had imagined all the ways my receptionist and I could move our relationship from professional to sexual, but I hadn't imagined this.

And at the simplest encouragement from him, I took my hands off my cock and stepped toward him. He was on his knees before I had fully processed what was happening, and his soft, fat tongues slithered down the head of my cock to the base and back.

I moaned.

He grabbed my ass cheeks and pulled me all the way too him, sliding my cock into his mouth, into his willing, open throat.

It took seconds for me to swell to my full mast in his throat, and he gagged once, before adjusting, before beginning his delicate, trained rhythm. His tongue lapped up and down my penis, his hands pulled my cheeks apart, a few fingers making their way to my hole, to probe and explore.

His hands and mouth maneuvered me, and I became putty in his hands as he slurped and sucked, sliding up and down, until I couldn't handle it anymore, and I pushed out the first shot of cum.

Immediately, he pressed a finger against my prostrate, and I came harder, my knees knocking against each other, the cum coming even more forcefully, the moan bursting uninhibited from my own throat.

I thrust and thrust and thrust sending stream after stream of hot cum down the throat of my sexy receptionist.

When he released me from his mouth, I slid to the floor, completely spent. I laid on my back, one arm behind my head, one arm, holding my scrotum, my deflating cock still on full display.

My receptionist stepped over me, and did the only thing that could make this moment more perfect. He unzipped the front of his slacks, and dropped his slacks and underwear. He stood over me, still wearing his shirt, but naked from the waist down, and began stroking himself over my naked, spent self.

His cum hit my chest and my face, hot and sticky, and he moaned as he continued to milk himself. It was a full minute of moaning and globs of cum falling onto me.

Without a word, he pulled up his slacks and underwear, zipped back up, and left me naked on my office rug, covered in his cum.

This was the best time I ever woke up naked mid-session completely naked. But it certainly wasn't the last.

[1rsoldiersince2012]

Bound by Law (Matt Murdock x Reader)

Words: 4371 (chapter 36)

Summary:

You and Matt met in the courtroom. Now, you may think that Matt was a knight in shining armour and defended you in the name of all United States laws, but that was not the case. Matt was totally destroying your client, and you wanted to tear him into pieces right then and right there, because with Murdock as your rival, your head is on the firm's plate with each case. Did Matt care? No, he only cared about bringing justice, he was a human-machine, driven by the need to bring righteousness no matter the cost. Or was he just that? What happens when you get involved in Fisk's business and Daredevil's lies against your will?

WE ARE COOKING YA'LL

36. Interlude

"This doesn't change anything, Ben."

"Except now we know who your king of diamonds is." Foggy adds to Karen's words and looks at Ben, standing in the the middle of the office.

"You see the news? Everything's changed. Fisk has gotten out in front of being dragged into the spotlight. My editor thinks he's the Second Coming. Hell, the whole city does." Ben pulls out a fresh newspaper, Fisk proudly occupying the whole front page.

"So, we just... We keep digging."

"I've been doing that. Internet went from nothing on Fisk to filled with three-hanky stories about a poor little fat kid from Hell's Kitchen. Abandoned by his father when he was 12. Mother died a year later. Now look at him. Boot straps and a big dream." Ben exhales loudly, rubbing his forehead.

"Somebody knows something. It's just a matter of asking the right people the right questions in the right tone of voice." Foggy says, sure of his words.

"Yeah, that's how you get yourself hurt." Ben raises his eyebrows theatrically.

"That's what I keep telling them." Matt silently slips inside the office upon Ben's last words. "Maybe they'll listen to you."

"Ben Urich, Matt Murdock. Attorney at Why the Hell Bother." Karen introduces the two of them with a hint of annoyance.

"Mr. Murdock." Ben shakes his hand.

"Matt." Matt corrects Ben, hearing your slow steps outside in the corridor.

You return to the office, moments later, noticing a new face in the middle of the room. Extending your arm, you intently look at his face, "I know you from somewhere."

"Ben Urich, New York Bulletin." He takes your hand, eyes shining in a weird way, as if he knew more about you than you did. Taking in your rather disheveled appearance. 

"Y/n." You let go of his hand first, "You were that journalist in courtroom when I had my case televised."

"Yes, and I gotta say, it was a pretty damn good case." He cracks a smile, yet you don't show any signs of appreciation.

"You also wrote about the attack on me at Hogarth, Chao and Benowitz. Could've tried to write at least a believable amout of lies." You say, watching his reaction.

His smile doesn't fall, on the contrary, it only gets bigger, "Well, in my line of work, that's a compliment.

Foggy shakes his head at the interaction and brings back the previous topic, "My partner thinks we should be pursuing this through the legal system."

"A lot safer that way." Ben agrees.

"Well, why don't we all just crawl under the covers, then?" Karen ignites again, and you close your eyes in hopes of keeping your mouth shut this time, already catching up with the talk.

"No, Karen-" Matt begins softly, only to be cut short by Karen.

"Well, I'm sorry, but if Fisk is really behind everything that has happened, then we need to do something."

"If we were the only ones after him, I'd tend to agree." Ben says mysteriously, "Friend of yours came to see me the other night the man in the mask."

"Terrorist cop-killer." Foggy repeats Fisk's previous words, and you can't help but agree with Fisk here. Your heart drops and face becomes even paler than it was since the day started.

"Says he was framed." Ben adds nonchalantly, turning around to catch everyone's expressions. Matt turns his back away from the group.

"I could say I'm Captain America, but it doesn't put wings on my head." Foggy rolls his eyes, only to be shut by Karen.

"What did he want?"

"Same thing we do... expose Fisk. I printed this from a thumb drive he gave me." Ben hands Karen a bunch of papers. She snatches them like a hawk and hurries to sit behind her desk. In the meantime, you lean on the nearby wall, feeling that the dizziness from lack of sleep and not eating normal food is finally catching up with you. 

"Oh, my God!" Karen exclaims and starts flipping through the pages. 

"Told me Fisk was behind the bombings and shooting those cops said he owns half the police that they helped him take down the Russians." Ben continues, looking around the room again, and takes a notice that you're not yourself today. He remembers vividly that day when he sat in the courtroom during your televised case - you were almost glowing and full of life. Now it seemed to him that you were either sick or angry or depressed.

"But I don't understand. If you have all of this, then..." Karen blabbers again, only this time Matt interrupts her. 

"Hearsay. Can't print any of it without corroboration, can you?"

"He could just be throwing smoke. I mean, he just killed Detective Blake." Foggy adds, much to Matt's displease.

"Said Blake's partner Hoffman did it, probably on Fisk's orders. But yeah, it occurred to me." Ben nods.

"You could talk to Hoffman." Matt pouts in thought, and you almost find it amusing in this kind of situation.

"Tried. He's in the wind. Or bottom of the river. Either way."Ben shrugs, now completely helpless. 

"He just shrugged." Foggy says to Matt.

"Wait, what about the Union Allied money? Is there a way that we can tie it directly to Fisk?" Karen rises from her chair. 

"Maybe. According to the Mask, a man named, uh, Leland Owlsley runs the books. But since getting roughed up by him, Owlsley's been surrounded by Fisk's security. Can't get anywhere near him." Ben shakes his head, "Same goes with, uh, James Wesley, the guy you said hired you to defend Healy." 

Upon the mention of Wesley, you feel two sets of eyes staring at you. "What?" You say defensively, "I'm not in contact with him anymore." Crossing your arms, you turn your eyes towards the window, avoiding making eye contact with anyone in the room. Ben raises an eyebrow at Karen, but she only grimaces slightly, not giving any answer to his wordless question. Matt senses something in your voice, perhaps an underlying lie that he can't put a finger on just yet.

"Look, the Mask came to Ben for help. And I don't care how rich Fisk is, nobody can totally erase their past. I mean, somewhere out there, there has to be a piece of paper, a witness... the truth."

"What about Confederated Global? The suit that hired us to defend Healy standing right next to Fisk when he gave his big speech." Foggy looks at you again, only to find you staring with a hard look on your face out the window. 

"I looked into that. According to FCC filings, Confed Global's where Fisk gets most of his reported income."

"All right, let's play this out. If Fisk is connected to Confed Global, that means he's involved in Westmeyer-Holt Contracting, which Westmeyer-Holt is strong-arming tenants out of their rent-controlled apartments." Matt gestures with his hands slightly, pulling back your attention. For whatever crazy reason, he felt sorry that you were put into this position by Wesley now. After your last burst of emotions, Karen felt distrustful towards you, but in Matt's mind that was understandable reaction.

"Um, they were hired by a guy named Armand Tully." Karen quickly adds.

"The slumlord?" Ben makes sure he heard it right.

"Landman and Zack say he's on vacation on an island that no one can pronounce, where they use coconuts as phones." Foggy shrugs, and you wonder if he's still in contact with Marci. Foggy catches your curious look and feels his cheeks burning.

"Another connection in the wind." Ben hangs his head low, earning an apologetic look from Karen.

"Westmeyer-Holt to Confed to Fisk. We pull that thread, see what it unravels." Matt begins circling around the room.

"Still not sure about this mask guy." Foggy says and you agree with him with a hum.

"He didn't hurt Ben and he didn't hurt me. I'll take the Devil of Hell's Kitchen over Fisk any day. Plus, he kicks ass." Karen says, eyes clashing with you. 

"Karen, you know, maybe refrain from these talks in a law office, or someone might think that you're ready to take his place in jail." You smile at her sourly. Karen bites her lip, clearly not satisfied with the way you put her in her place. "He's a vigilante after all." 

Ben nods to himself again. Your frustration was justifiable, he knew what it felt like to lose a well-paid job and start a new chapter of life. Maybe life wasn't treating you right now.

"Well, if he's such a badass, why did he come to Ben? Why not just take Fisk down himself?" Foggy silently agrees with you. 

"Maybe he knows there's some roads you can't come back from." Ben replies mysteriously.

*** 

You look around, noticing the interior of the church. Clinton Church. You've never been here before. Your parents were not too religious to regularly go to church, so it didn't pass on you either. God? You didn't believe in God, because in the end, you saved yourself, not God. He didn't save you, he didn't save anyone. God was just a mythical creation, made up so that in the worst moments, people wouldn't lose their hope. God didn't mean anything to you, because if he was real, if he was righteous, you wouldn't have to deal with all these injustices everyday. If he was real, the world would've been a better place. But it wasn't. Never going to be.

The lights were lit on only at the front, only near the altar, and you catch yourself looking at the cross and Jesus on it. Was he even real? Or was he only a copy of someone else's imagination? Every cross was different, unique, yet everyone imagined the same man crucified, same man hanging his head to the side, same man with a woven crown of thorns, sticking into his forehead like needles. If he was real, in your mind he was stupid. Sacrificing yourself for the sins of the people? They were not worth it, not then and surely not now. Maybe he was real. Maybe he was a saint, but he was also blind. Blind to notice that humanity wasn't ready to understand his sacrifice, blind to think that it still meant something thousands of years later. Blind like Lady Justice. 

Involuntary, you shiver. The air was rather cool inside the church and somehow, not even your coat was keeping you warm. Turning to your right, you glance at Foggy, eyes cast down into his lap, fingers nervously playing with the hem of his coat. Movement in the front catches your attention and you see Father Lantom emerge from the shadows. He looks at all four of you, eyes lingering on a new face here - you. Feeling uneasy under the intense gaze, you bow your head down, almost in shame. You've never liked priests in general, because they looked at you as if they knew who you were under that facade. Father Lantom notices the change in your face and clear his throat. 

You only hear half of the things that he's saying; distracted by the way sunlight falls though the multicoloured windows and Karen's silent sniffling, you felt like an intruder here. Father continued talking about God, the fragility of life and the values of believing. None of this made sense to you, so you distracted your thoughts from the reason that brought all four of you here. Wesley. That bastard really sugar-coated you before throwing you unprepared to the lions. And now he was proudly marching behind Fisk on live television? You felt sick again, the need to throw up returned, yet there was nothing in your stomach the whole day, and the acidic aftertaste returned. 

"Shall we go?" Foggy nudges your arm gently, and you look at him wide-eyed for a good second. 

"Yeah." You whisper, and get up, letting everyone pass through, side lining with Matt. Father Lantom walks behind the two of you, clearly in thought. Matt has mentioned a woman before, he spoke so fondly of her that Lantom was in no doubt that Matt fell in love. He now wondered if that woman was you, or Karen; but Karen's name has been said when Matt talked about the friendships that he made. So it left him with one answer - you.

"Excuse me, but I don't think I've seen you in church before." Father Lantom comes in between you and Matt, and gives a warm smile, almost making you grimace at his comment. You knew it bound to happen, these type of things were always inevitable.

"Um, yeah, no, I'm not really a churchgoer." You shrug slowly, turning your eyes away from his piercing blue ones. 

"Not religious or not enough time?" Father smiles again, so kindly, that you feel the urge to pour your heart out to him. 

There was that feeling again, feeling that he can read you like an open book. "A bit of both." You say at first, then feeling like it's not a good place for lying, add, "mostly the first one."

"Ah. Well, Matthew here has been caught up in his work, he never visits me these days."

"Father..." Matt begins, feeling exposed. Father knows about his little nightly rendezvous, so it shouldn't really surprise him that he doesn't go to church any more.

"Oh, really?" You ask, stealing a glance at Matt, then crack a small smile, "blame me for this one Father, since he employed me, we've been very busy with work. And... I'm not a particularly good influence on him." 

Matt feels his cheeks heating up.

"Really? Well, Matthew, I'll take it to consideration for your next confession. Whenever that may be."

"Yeah." Matt mutters, thankful to finally go out into the fresh air. 

Nearing the small graveyard that was close to the church, you notice the casket next to the grave. Shivers run down your spine, head full of unpleasant memories and images, but you try to calm yourself, blaming it on the wind. All four of you stand at the end of the grave, watching the graveyard worker lower the casket into the ground slowly, accompanied by the final words that Father is saying to Mrs Cardenas, and almost instinctively, your hand finds Matt's by his side, slipping your fingers between his cold ones. The emotions run wild through your head, your blood, but you only close your eyes, focusing on the warmth that you felt when Matt squeezes your hand back. Opening your eyes, you turn to your right briefly, noticing a single tear rolling down Matt's cheek - so different from the sobbing beside you from Foggy and Karen. You glance at your hands tightly pressed together, so almost perfectly fitting, and only now realize just how close he was standing from the beginning. 

Father closes the Bible, and a quick glance at Matt and you, answers his questions. The way you looked at him told a million things, but most importantly, it told Father that Matt's feeling were not one-sided. 

*** 

"I've been such an asshole to her the first time we met." You scoff, hiding your face behind an almost empty whiskey glass. Foggy and Karen share a look, one that you wouldn't be able to decipher, even if you noticed it in the first place. "I guess they really turn you into a robot in HCB."

"Well, I know for a fact that people turn worse in Landman and Zack." Matt replies, drinking as well. If tonight was about drowning sorrows, he was making sure he fulfilled that.

Karen turns her face towards the TV and her eyes widen immediately. Foggy nudges your elbow, making you turn to look at the screen, and the need to throw up returns again. "Hey, Josie, could you turn that up?"

"No, I never had the pleasure of meeting Ms. Cardenas. I only recently took possession of her building." Fisk blabbers on the screen again, and you notice Wesley standing behind him. How the hell did the press find out about Elena so quickly?

"How do you respond to reports that you knew the tenement was unsafe?" A reporter asks, but Fisk doesn't move a single muscle in protest.

"That is accurate." He replies, taking a pause after the sentence. "That's why we offered a substantial sum to Ms. Cardenas and her neighbours. To help them relocate." He looks around at all the press, Wesley scanning the crowd like a hawk. "We should never let good people get swallowed up by this city. I mourn this woman's death."

You loudly scoff to yourself, and the whole table of Nelson and Murdock find themselves internally agreeing with you. 

"Didn't have to happen. It should've..." Fisk's words get interrupted by Foggy's ringing phone. "Her passing is a symptom of a larger disease..." Foggy fishes his phone and leaves the table. "- infecting all of us. Disease of fear..." The TV glitches for a couple of times, only pieces of sentence are heard. "...fear of bombings, fear of cop killings. Fear of a masked psychopath." 

Matt feels his blood boiling in his alcohol-filled veins.

"We shouldn't let people like that take our city from us. We need to stand together. Let them know that they will fail... because we believe we can make a difference." Fisk's words make you wonder if he has learned the speech beforehand and if Wesley wrote it. After all, he was doing all the butt-kissing. " 'Cause they are cowards! Afraid of stepping out of the shadows. Afraid of standing up for people like Mrs. Cardenas."

"Mr. Fisk, how does this affect the upcoming benefit?" Someone behind the camera shouts.

Wesley steps up into the spotlight, "That will be all. Thank you." Hearing his voice again after days of radio silence caused your anger to spike up.  "No more questions."

"What can we do about this psycho..." another man begins, only to be cut short by a commercial break.

"Jesus, he almost sounds like he means it." Karen is the first one to break the silence.

"I think he does." Matt answers shortly.

Karen scoffs, "And he's calling the man in the mask a psycho?" With this one, you agreed. The man in the mask was a psycho to you, and Karen's enthusiasm to constantly talk about how great he is, sometimes made you think that she was madly in love with the vigilante. "I hope they trace what happened to Elena right to his doorstep."

"He'd never expose himself like that. Plus, half the force is probably in his pocket. Well, then, let's pray the Mask gets his hands on him. Knocks his goddamn head off."

"You religious, Karen?" Matt suddenly asks, but the topic doesn't pick up your attention.  

"My parents were. That's probably why I'm not. You?" 

"Catholic." Matt answers shortly. You receive a fresh whiskey glass and down it in one go, relaxing your muscles when it burns your throat. 

"Does it help? With things like this?" 

"Not today." Matt moves his lips slighly, which looks like a half of a grin. "I think I've had enough. Tell Foggy I'll see him in the morning." You pick up Matt's last words and turn to look at him already getting up to leave.

"Wait, I'm going too." You gently stop him by grabbing his wrist and his whole body goes stiff.

"Hey, Matt. If there is a God and if he cares at all about about any of us Fisk will get what he deserves." Karen says to Matt while you pull out a 100 dollar bill and give it to Josie. "You have to believe that."

"I do." He replies, still lingering next to the table while you put on your coat. 

"Tell Foggy..." you begin, sliding your hand on Matt's elbow a little too comfortably for Karen's liking, but she just puts you down for being drunk, "tell him nothing, I'm an independent woman. Lights out!" You say and quickly disappear in the street. 

Matt says nothing. His mind was occupied by other things, until you decided to grab a taxi together, but eventually agreed to swing by his place. Why? Because Matt insisted on ordering a takeout, adding "I don't think you ate proper food today at all" in a fatherly tone.

*** 

Foggy's new case was interesting for about 30 minutes, while you two shared a huge pizza. The whole time you avoided acknowledging the obvious, not talking about Elena or Fisk at all costs. Before Matt introduced beer to the conversation, which got you quite tipsy and relaxed; if you're not counting the alcohol consumed at Josie's.  At first it was light talk, jokes, giggling and laughing, trying to lighten up the sour mood, until you felt your stomach hurt, but then, as usual, the conversation turned to more serious topics.

Matt spins the bootle in his hand lazily, legs stretched out on the coffee table, as the laughter dies, his face becomes serious, maybe even curious and you wait for his question. "So, what was that thing with you and Karen?"

"What thing?"

"The thing... You know... Shouting one."

"Oh, that." You take a long sip of the beer, trying to delay answering for as long as possible. "I just don't like others in my business, that's all."

"Why's that?" He raises an eyebrow.

"Well it's quite a long story... But in short, some guy almost fucked up mine and Pug's internship."

"Don't leave me hanging now." He shoots a shy grin.

"Well, we got lucky with that internship, very lucky actually." You sigh, stretching your legs on Matt's coffee table as well. "And Dave was there too."

"Oof, I hate Dave already." Matt huffs a laugh, "wait, who's Pug?"

"My college best friend. So, anyway, we basically won the lottery with our internship at Latham & Wakins, this is still one of the best law firms in LA, and only very few students get to intern there. Of course, our professor wanted to send as many students as he possibly could to the firm, mainly caring about his own reputation as the best prof in the whole university, but I know that he also wanted us to succeed. So Pug and I, we get internships, we're over the moon, we go out, drink like there's no tomorrow, and then we bump into one guy from our classes." You clear your throat, taking a sip again.

"Dave, right?" Matt asks, with slow movements loosening his tie. 

"Yeah. So he's a total shit-talker, we're absolutely wasted, and somehow he talks us into getting him into Latham & Wakins. Next day, we go to the offices, they walk us around, introduce us to the bosses and blah blah, and this fucker, he befriends our boss. Not only befriends, he sleeps with her." You raise your eyebrows for a dramatic effect.

"No way." Matt lets out a laugh, going to bring more beer, still paying attention to your talk.

"Guess what happened then. He takes all of our cases. Our prof starts getting angry, he calls the firm's boss, I remember this, we were smoking outside his office when he made the call. So, he calls her, he's like 'my two brightest students are interning at your firm, and three weeks later you still haven't given them a case?'. I have no idea what's happening on the other side of the phone, but our prof is just pissed, he smokes two cigarettes during the whole phone call time, and let me tell you, the guy hasn't smoked in 20 years. He says that he fixed it and we can return to Latham & Wakins. We go there the same day, and we still don't get a fucking case. At this point, I'm fuming, I barge right into our boss's office, and there was Dave. Fucking her on her desk."

"No-" Matt gasps, handing you a new bottle and sitting a bit closer on the sofa than before. 

"I wanted to forget that image for years, and I still can't." You shiver dramatically. "They catch me and Pug in the parking lot, beg us to not expose them and promise that we will get all the best new cases. Of course, we agree, holding it against them that we can and will expose their little affair if it's necessary, because she was a married woman. All's good, we get full marks for our internship, we get paid more than we could've imagined, but just as we step out with our internship documents, we call our prof, and expose that bitch."

"She got fired?"

"Not only that, she's suspended from practising law for five years, and Dave was kicked out of university as soon as he returned." 

"That's one hell of a ride." Matt laughs. "Now it kind of makes sense."

"Pug's the only person I trust with my work, he doesn't seek glory at the cost of others."

"What about me?" Matt's lips perk up into a smirk.

"You don't seem like the Dave-type." You smile warmly, noticing the distance between the two of you. "Although, I don't know you long enough to check that out."

"Not long enough? It feels like ages since I beat you in court." 

"Yeah, and now I work for you." You laugh, earning another smile from Matt. 

Matt suddenly changes the topic, "You know what Elena told me one time when you stepped out to smoke?" This immediately gains your attention.

"What?"

"She said that she has never seen someone so in love, but then there were you." His lips twich slightly. "But it sounded way better in Spanish."

"Why did she tell you that?" You smile, slightly furrowing your eyebrows. Being drunk right now was no help at all.

"She wanted me to know that since... you know, I can't really see those things."

"Oh." You sigh, not pulling your eyes away from Matt, "She was a very smart woman."

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah, she wasn't wrong." You blurt out, covering your mouth with your hand. 

Matt stretches his hand out, his fingers brush against yours, and he gently takes your hand, touching your nails. "What color are they?" He softly asks, scooting closer.

"My nails?" You ask, trying to hide your surprise that he left with his touch. He nods, expectantly. "Red."

"Red like what?"

You furrow your eyebrows momentarily, but then you understand exactly what Matt meant. "Uh, it's dark red, almost like a chilli pepper or... Blood." His touch makes your head dizzy. "Or your glasses. I hate when you wear them." Feeling bold out of the blue, you take off his glasses, "your eyes are very pretty." 

"Can I do something?" Matt asks, turning the talk away from himself once again.

"Depends."

[miraakulous-cloud-district]

WIP Wednesday

Hi, hello. I haven't been active in a while. Truth is that I'm in my exam session, and a lot is happening in real life and I'm overwhelmed. However, @bostoniangirl21 tagged me last week and sharing my love for writing with you guys always puts me in a better mood! So here is a little snippet of Chapter 3 of 'Hymn of the High Seas' that I managed to write while I was still on vacation! Also, @sheirukitriesfandom tagged me to make some ocs with this picrew, and I'm using this post as a combo😆. Thank you guys so much for the tags, they really make my day <3 <3

I'm tagging @sheirukitriesfandom and @bostoniangirl21 back and also @bougainvillea-and-saltwater @kiir-do-faal-rahhe @dirty-bosmer @thelavenderelf @illumiera for either the wip, the picrew, both or none, whichever you want, of course. 💖💖

~

“IT’S HER! THE ONE WHO ESCAPED FROM STROS M’QAI! SHE FITS THE DESCRIPTION!” someone shouts, catching Signe’s attention and sending her mind spiraling into madness with fear, desperation and guilt of dragging Rhaim with her into this doom. Several Thalmor surround them, far too many to fight, even as a team. Signe’s letting herself get distracted, feeling almost paralyzed with fear. ‘Not them. I’ve dragged my crew into peril before we even set sail.’ she thinks, but her thought bubble is violently popped by arms capturing her, making her drop her scimitar to the ground. 

“WE’VE CAUGHT THE DISGUSTING WORM!” A Thalmor shouts right by her ear, so hard that it’s now ringing. “You’re ours now, disgusting, filthy Nord! TAKE THE REST OF THEM ALONG! More practice dummies for our torture adepts-” is all he gets to day before his head gets cut off, falling to the ground with a haunting thud, rolling somewhere away. The others have little time to react because blades cleave through them like a reaper's scythe through a field of fragile blossoms, leaving behind a trail of blood and death. Thalmor bodies start falling around them, setting them free, and in the end, a cloaked figure stands with two katanas unseathed and arms open. The cloak is not like the rest of the thieves', signaling that whoever this is, is not with the Guild. Like fine silk, black robes fall on broad shoulders. The figure raises his head, showing a glimpse of fair skin and pale, pink lips.

“They’re looking for you. Why?” he asks, voice deep and an accent that Signe’s never heard before.

“We escaped Stros M’qai.” She says, panting, and the man finally lifts his gaze, piercing grey eyes looking at her from under a fringe of fine ebony hair.

“Wasn’t hearing things after all.” he huffs, the faintest hint of a smile gracing his lips. “Come with me. All of you.” he says swiftly, and starts moving through the crowd.

The crew exchange glances, silent agreements quickly passing by each and every one of them, and Signe starts catching up to their mysterious saviour.

~

Hmmmm, who could this mysterious saviour be? A new oc that I'm obsessed with, of course! He's Akaviri, and his name is Renjiro. Unfortunately, he's only going to be a secondary character in HOTHS, but he will appear more times throughout the fic!

And for the picrew, I chose to make him!! Look at my boy!

I have another oc that I made with this picrew, which is Edward!! He will be a crew member, and he's a sad blond blorbo (I have to have at least one sad blond blorbo in each project of mine apparently). Also, the hand that cups his face? It's a certain crewmate :D!

[starkstruck27]

I headcanon that today (June 14th, but I might not get it posted by midnight because time management is not my strong suit lol) is Steve's birthday, and we just had a book signing at the bookstore I work at tonight, so I was inspired to write this. It's modern day, and slightly aged up characters, but not by much. Enjoy!

Steve couldn't believe his luck. It was his birthday, and it seemed like everything was going just right today. First, he woke up before his alarm and actually felt energized, then Robin had promised to take him out wherever he wanted to go later on (even volunteering to drive so she could show off her new license and car), then his favorite coffee place gave him a discount and a free pastry since it was his birthday, and to cap it all off, he had gotten back a test from one of his most difficult classes, and he'd passed it with flying colors. All in all, it was a good day. But then, he saw a sign outside the campus bookstore, and it went from good to great.

The sign was advertising a book signing with a local author, who just so happened to be Steve's favorite author of all time. The guy's name was Ronnie Fitconi, a mysterious man who never had his picture in any of his books. He didn't write much about himself in the little "about the author" section of his books either, the only things he said was that he was 23, just a year younger than Steve was, he lived somewhere in Indianapolis, he preferred tea over coffee, he loved the beach, he was a cat person, and he was gay (which was pretty apparent from the books he wrote, but whatever).

The book that he was promoting with the signing was his fourth, pretty impressive for a guy so young, but Tik Tok had managed to make him blow up practically overnight. That and how secretive the guy was. Seriously, if you looked the guy up on Google, it was like he didn't even exist. There were no pictures of him, and no record of him except that he was a writer that blew up after his first book was released three years ago. This was the first book signing he had ever done, and it was only to the local college bookstore and a few others in the area, but all were small, and none were at big chain stores, only locally owned.

As soon as Steve saw the sign, he took a picture of it, then immediately called Robin as he rushed back to his car.

"Dingus!" She answered, her smile evident in her voice, "Happy Birthday! What's up, buttercup?"

"Hi, Robbie. Thanks for that. But also, you know how you said you'd take me to do anything I wanted tonight for my birthday?" He asked, practically vibrating out of his skin.

"Yeah. Did you finally decide what you want to do?" She asked.

"Yes, and I know it's probably not going to be the rip-roaring time you were planning, but just hear me out, okay?" He said, "How would you like to come with me to meet Ronnie Fitconi?"

"That author you like?" She asked, "Yeah, of course! I told you, anything you want to do, I'm down. So, what's the plan? Are we breaking into his house?"

"What? No! You are seriously so weird. He's doing a book signing at the campus bookstore, I was gonna bring my books and buy his new one and then I get to meet him and get his autograph! No breaking and entering required."

"Well, that's a lot less fun, but I'll be there. What time does it start?" Robin asked.

"6:30 tonight," Steve replied.

"Let's get there at 6:00, we don't want to have to wait forever, so it'd probably be better to get there early."

"Good thinking. In the meantime, we have a couple of hours, and my classes just ended for the day. Will you meet me for dinner and help me pick out what to wear so I don't look like a total idiot?" Steve asked, already heading towards his dorm.

"Of course. I'll bring tacos. I'll be there in ten."

With that, Robin hung up the phone, and Steve drove off towards his place. As soon as he got there, he went to his desk to get his copies of Ronnie's first three books. Steve would probably never admit to liking them as much as he did to anyone but Robin, because the guy wrote only romance novels, but he really did love them. He didn't read much, and when Ronnie's debut novel came out, he didn't have much interest in that, either. But then he read the second book when it came out, and he was hooked. He read the third one when it came out and only got further hooked, and finally he buckled and read the first one, too. He hadn't expected to like it, but he found that he couldn't put it down, and now that another one was coming out, he couldn't wait to read it, too.

The first book the guy had written was called "Kings of the Lost World", and it was a dystopian sci-fi romance. It was about a young man who thought he was king of all he saw, but just as he's settling into the position, the apocalypse hits. The king gets taken down a peg, having to team up with the same guy who had been in his position before, but got kicked off his throne before the new king had taken over, but now, they have to learn to lean on each other to survive. They have a rocky start at first, but eventually, it turns out that they fall in love, and they manage to find a place where they are safe and get to live out the rest of their lives in happiness. Steve honestly didn't think he'd like the book, since he typically hated both sci-fi and dystopian, but he ended up loving the book when he finally read it. It almost reminded him of when he was in high school, when Billy Hargrove came and kicked him off his throne for good, all except for the romance bit.

The second book the guy had published and the one that had gotten Steve hooked on the guy's writing was probably his saddest one, called "Blood of the Innocent". It was a noir thriller set in the 1920s, about a gay man who sang in speakeasies as a drag queen who got accused of murdering a bunch of young men that went to the clubs he sang at. The detective in the story, who was closeted himself, fell in love with the guy while trying to clear his name and solve the case, but after they'd started their affair, they were found out. This book didn't end up as happily as the first, with the two of them being able to run away together, rather they were both killed for their relationship and the original case was mostly forgotten about and covered up, only to go cold and remain unsolved. When Steve read it, he could not put it down, and when he got to the ending, he would be lying if he said he hadn't flat-out bawled over it. He had finished it around two in the morning one night, and Robin was not exactly happy about having to wake up to his call at that time to listen to him rant to her about it, but she read the book later at his insistence, and she soon forgave him once she got to the end.

The third book the guys wrote was called "Don't Fence Me In", and was a cute, sweet, rom-com kind of book about two young men who worked together on a horse ranch. The one man had lived there his whole life and who's father owned the place, but was getting too old to run it, so they hired a farmhand. That's where the other man came in, a handsome guy from out of town who had just been looking for work anywhere, and who the first guy thought was much too prissy and posh for the kind of manual labor that was expected of him. He had come from the city and was the son of a rich businesswoman, so why he wanted to run from that cushy lifestyle just to work on a rinky-dink ranch, the first guy didn't know, but he teased him about it relentlessly. But where he expected the guy to get offended and ditch his position, the other guy just took it lightly and met it with laughter, until they became friends, and eventually, even more than that. At the end of the book, the first guy's father, who, once he found out about the relationship supported it 100%, gave up ownership of the ranch to his son and his boyfriend, and the two were married on their land with the help of a fat check from the second guy's mother, who also supported them completely. Steve had gushed so hard over the book that when he was reading it, he found himself lying on his stomach with his legs kicked up and a permanent smile on his face as he twirled his hair. It was probably his favorite of all three books.

And now, as he held each book in his hands and placed them in his favorite tote bag to take with him to the signing event, he couldn't help but wonder what the next book might be about. That was another reason he loved this author so much, he always kept you guessing on what he might do next. Most authors picked one or two genres and stuck to them, but this guy was all over the place. And yet, everything he wrote was absolutely amazing, and had Steve captivated within a few pages. He could not wait to see where things would go this time.

After a few minutes of thinking about it, he heard a knock on his door, and he knew Robin was there. He went to let her in and immediately, the two of them set up the tacos on his desk and ate while Steve threw practically every piece of clothing he owned around his room, trying to find the perfect outfit. There was still an hour and a half before they had to be at the bookstore, but Steve refused to leave the apartment until he knew he looked perfect.

"Seriously, is it really that big a deal? I mean, you're gonna see him for like, five minutes. If that. You don't have to be in a tux or anything for that," Robin said as Steve continued to fret over whether he should wear his blue sweater or his green button-down as if the fate of the world depended on it.

"Yes, Robin, it is that big a deal! I don't want to look like an idiot! I'm already gonna look like a creep because of how much I love his books, and if I blank on him and say something stupid or can't speak at all, I want to at least look my best so he can't gossip about that to people, too!" Steve said, finally deciding on the sweater, but then having a whole new meltdown over which pants would go best with it.

"Okay, point taken, but also, you're selling yourself short. I'm sure he won't think you're an idiot, and he'll probably be flattered that you like his books so much. I mean, he wrote them for people to read and enjoy, right? And if you freeze up, I'll be right there with you to bring you out of it, so you really don't have anything to worry about. And go with the brown pants, the gray ones don't look right." She said, finally deciding to be helpful.

"Okay, I guess you're right. Now, which shoes should I go with? Dress shoes would probably be too formal, right?" He asked, holding his selections up to himself in the mirror.

"Yeah, just wear your converse or vans. We might still get stuck in line since this guy is so popular, so you should wear something comfortable. And wear your white dress shirt under your sweater so that the collar and cuffs stick out. It'll give you that cute academia look with your glasses and make it less weird to think of you as a bookworm." Robin said, helping him pick out the final few things and then leaving to give him privacy as he changed. Not that he needed it, they've both changed in front of each other countless times, but still. She also had a surprise for him, and she needed an excuse to count her cash without him seeing.

Finally, he was finished, and after he was finally satisfied with his hair, they put the leftover tacos in the fridge and Steve grabbed his books. They hopped in Robin's car, and got to the bookstore right at 6:00, ready to go inside with the others already on their way. The bookstore employees were apparently already checking people in, so Steve was anxious to get in there and get a good spot in line, but before he could jump out of the car (and his skin), Robin grabbed his arm.

"Wait, you're missing a few final things," she said, rummaging around in her little backpack that had the little video game character Kirby all over it.

"What?" Steve asked, his heart beating hard enough already. What could he have forgotten? Was his breath bad after the tacos? Did he have something on his face or in his teeth? Had his hair gone flat?

"One, a breath mint, just in case," she said, opening her pack of Altoids and giving him one. "Two, your inhaler, also just in case. We don't need you hyperventilating in front of your hero. Three, some lip gloss, just like back in our scoops days to really complete the look and make you just that much cuter."

She handed him a tube of her favorite lip gloss, strawberry banana flavored, the same kind she used to lend him way back when that made his lips pink and full. He slathered on a layer and handed it back to her, then popped the breath mint and slipped his inhaler into his pants pocket, fixing his hair and taking one last deep breath before turning to her and smiling nervously.

"You think I have everything?" He asked.

"Almost," she said, "You still need one more thing."

With that, she reached into her bag again and pulled out her wallet, handing him forty dollars in cash with a big smile on her face. Steve stared at the money, dumbfounded, trying to hand it back on instinct.

"No, keep it. You need it if you want to get his new book. Besides, it's your birthday present. You don't get to argue, I'm paying for it. Now let's get inside before they sell out!" Robin said, smiling widely at Steve's confused spluttering.

"Robin, you don't have to pay for me. Thank you, but you really don't-"

"Shut up your face, Dingus! I want to. Besides, like I said, it's your birthday present. Now, let's go, for real. We don't want to be the last ones in line, do we?"

Finally, Steve relented, climbing out of the car and meeting Robin at the front of it to give her the tightest hug he could muster before they walked in. They may be strictly platonic, but Steve loved her more than he ever loved anyone before, and he had to make sure she knew that.

Finally, they walked into the bookstore, where they were greeted by an overly chipper employee who already looked tired, and the event hadn't even started yet.

"Hi! Are you guys here for the book signing?" She asked, her customer service smile and attitude something the two of them were all too familiar with.

"Yeah, we are," Robin said, grinning widely at her.

"Great! Do you have your tickets already or do you need to purchase a copy of the book now?" the employee asked, covering her mouth against a yawn.

"No, we need to buy a copy," Steve said, holding tightly on his tote bag straps.

"Okay, that's perfectly fine. Just go on up to the front registers, Gigi will be there to help you out, and then just keep your receipt and you can jump in line. Have fun!" The employee smiled, then greeted the next people that came in behind them.

Steve and Robin went to the counter and did as instructed, asking the girl there for a copy of the book and paying for it before getting in line and waiting for it to start moving. As they did, Steve was practically on pins and needles, and Robin took the opportunity to examine the cover of the new book. It was called "Court of Royal Rivalries", and the pun was evident when you saw the cover. It was two boys playing basketball, one a brunet in a green and white jersey and the other a blond with not shirt on, just green shorts.

"Hey Dingus, can I see your book for a second?" Robin asked, and Steve handed it over.

"Sure, why?" He asked.

"I just want to read the back and see what it's about," Robin said, flipping it over.

"Ooh, read it out loud, I want to know, too." Steve encouraged, and Robin began to read.

"Seth Haner is the king of his high school, with everything his heart would desire. He's got money, he's got looks, he's got charm, and most of all, he's got his peers groveling at his feet for even a scrap of his attention. But after having been dumped by his girlfriend Natalie seemingly out of nowhere, he realizes that what he really wants, a love that will last, is the one thing he doesn't have. Enter Ben Holden, a new student transferring into the sleepy rural town from California. Suddenly, Ben is the hottest commodity in the school, easily dethroning Seth and taking over his court. Seth can't stand the guy, and is dreading it when he finds out that they'll be playing basketball together, the one things Seth has left after losing practically everything. Ben is a monster on the court, and Seth feels like he's losing basketball, too, when the coach tells them to work out their differences or they'll both be nixed from the team. Can Seth and Ben put aside their differences to find their similarities? Or will the blood of the two kings be spilled as they fight for the crown on the court?"

Steve stared at her as she finished reading the blurb, his jaw hanging open as she finished.

"Okay," he said, debating whether or not he needed to use his inhaler, "Either this is one hell of a coincidence or... Well, no, that has to be it! That's so fucking weird."

"I know! I mean, that's like your high school career in a nutshell. And look at the cover! I'm willing to bet my life that the brunet one is Seth and the blond is Ben, because this is too fucking uncanny. That is the creepiest shit ever. It's like a glitch in the matrix or something!" Robin agreed, handing the book back to Steve.

"Wait a second, hang on, I want to see something," he said, pulling out the other three books from his bag as the line began to move. He flipped them each open to the title pages, and Robin watched as he found what he was looking for.

"Okay, wait, look at this," he said, showing her the first one, "This book is dedicated to his sister, apparently, who 'taught him what it was like to live through the end of the world'. Then this one," he opened the second book to the same page, "This one is dedicated to his mom, who 'kept him safe until things got hard and then left him to the wolves'. And this one," he opened the third one, "is dedicated to his father, who 'should have supported him like Mr. Montgomery supported River'. So I wonder..." Steve said, then opened up the fourth book, and his heart nearly stopped when he read the dedication.

"What does it say?!" Robin insisted. They were only a few people away from meeting the guy, but Steve felt like he knew him already, and it only raised more questions that he couldn't figure out the answers to as he handed the book to Robin to read for herself.

The dedication read, "To my Pretty Boy. You know who you are. This is the way I wish our story ended up. I'm sorry."

Robin finished reading it and her eyes went wide as she looked up at Steve, the both of them utterly baffled. This was just impossible. Neither of them could believe it, and neither of them knew what to say. They were both trying to come up with some way to explain it, but before they could, another bookstore employee, a man about their age with dark hair down to his shoulders, ushered them through the backdrop screens that were set up to keep the interactions private and told them to have fun.

Steve and Robin didn't know if it was more or less confusing when they stepped up to the table and saw none other than Billy Hargrove sitting in front of them, a sharpie in his hand and his blond hair tied up into a knot on top of his head. He had a slight beard now and more tattoos now than back in high school, in fact, he had a whole sleeve on one arm and a few standalone ones on his other arm. He was wearing a short sleeve button up, but unlike back in school, all the buttons were done up, except for the top two, exposing the pendant he still wore and just a sliver of his still golden skin. His eyes were still the same sparkling blue, but they were partially hidden behind a pair of round brown glasses. He still wore his dagger earring, but he had a few more piercings up around the shell of his ear and a stud in his nose now, too. Overall, he looked fantastic, he took Steve's breath away, but he was still completely floored that he was sitting there in front of them.

"Hi, how are yo-" Billy said, finally looking up at them and seeming to choke on the words, literally. He began to cough as his face went red, and the manager of the bookstore ran to get him a bottle of water while another employee, the dark haired man, came over to make sure everything was okay.

"Yeah, yeah, everything's fine, thanks," Billy said, waving the man off, "Just wasn't expecting to see any familiar faces today."

The manager finally returned with the water, and Billy drank it, and once he caught his breath, he finally seemed to get himself collected. At least, collected enough to turn on his charm and start acting like he hadn't just choked at the sight of two blasts from his past.

"Well well well, Steve Harrington and Robin Buckley. I never expected to see you two around here. How've you been?" He asked, motioning for Steve's books and readying his sharpie.

"Um, fine, I guess?" Robin said, "Wow, sorry, it's just a trip seeing you here. I honestly thought you were dead or something."

"Aw, I wish!" Billy joked, smiling as Steve finally handed him the books and he began to scribble in them. "But no, seriously, it's a trip to see you guys, too. I never expected to see anyone from Hawkins ever again once I moved out here. I'm not surprised you thought I was dead, I tried to bury my old self. That's why I don't let anyone take pictures and why I write under a pen name. I didn't want to be found."

"Jesus, what, are you on the run?" Robin asked, Steve still speechless beside her.

"No, just living happily by myself for once and not wanting anyone to find out and ruin it for me. I guess you guys know, but the fact that you're here means you're fans, so I don't think I need to worry too much about you posting my yearbook pictures all over Twitter as long as I ask you really nicely." He grinned, and Steve nearly lost his breath all over again.

"Well, Stevie's more of a fan than I am. It's his birthday today, so I told him we could do whatever he wants tonight and since he loves your books we ended up here, but either way, my lips are sealed." Robin said, finally stepping back and pushing Steve forward to make him interact with the other guy.

"Y-yeah, no, I wouldn't tell anyone. I mean, after all you've gone through to make sure no one knows who you really are. Like, I couldn't even find you when I googled your name, and you can find anyone on google." Steve rambled, hoping that Billy couldn't hear his heart beating practically out of his chest.

"I appreciate that," Billy said, his smile big and bright on his face. "So, how've you been, Stevie? I hear you're a huge fan. What did you think of the last one?"

"I-I loved it. 'Fence' is probably my favorite of them, but I love all your books. You're a really talented writer, I never would've thought- Wait, no, that came out wrong! Jeez, I hope I didn't offend you, I just meant that you always seemed more street smart than book smart- shit, I didn't mean that either, I just meant- Oh, hell," Steve stammered, his face going as red as Robin's t-shirt, "This is coming out all wrong, I didn't mean that, I hope I didn't just piss you off, because I really do like your books and I'm just nervous cuz it's you and you're like, the last person I expected to see here signing them. I'm so sorry!"

"Hey, calm down, Stevie Boy. It's fine, I get it. No need to be sorry for anything. And anyway, I'm the one who choked when I first saw you," Billy chuckled, finally finishing writing in the last book and capping his sharpie before he handed them back to Steve to put in his bag. "I'm glad I got to see you guys again. I think I needed some familiarity. It was starting to get a little lonely being a ghost. Hopefully I'll see you again sometime soon."

And with that, he stood up, gave them each a quick hug, and then motioned for the dark haired man to bring in the next group. Steve and Robin left through another set of screens and to the door, the both of them seemingly in a daze until they got to Robin's car.

"Well, that was... certainly something," Robin said, staring straight ahead, just like Steve, both of them still trying to wrap their heads around it.

"You can say that again. I mean, Billy fucking Hargrove? I never would've guessed in a million years." Steve said, his eyes still wide.

"Neither would I." Robin agreed.

"And to make matters worse, he was so fucking hot! Like, that was not fair for the universe to make me look like such an imbecile in from of him!" Steve ranted.

"Okay, it really wasn't that bad, you were just star-struck, I'm sure he gets that all the time. And besides, he looked happy to see us, especially you," Robin replied, then she seemed to remember something, perking up and turning to look at him. "Wait, what did he write in your books? He wrote for a long time, it couldn't have just been his signature."

Steve nodded his agreement and took the books back out of his tote, starting with the first one and flipping it open to the page that Billy had written on.

"What does it say?" Robin asked, trying to lean over to see, but she couldn't read the cursive Billy wrote in.

"It says, 'Pretty Boy, since you're a fan and you already know, here's some more tidbits you might not have guessed about...(1/4)' then his signature." Steve opened the second book, and read on, "This one says, 'First off, my pseudonym is a joke. I always liked the name Ronnie, and Fitconi is an anagram of the word 'Fiction', because it's a fake name. Clever, huh? (2/4)'. Then his signature again." He flipped open the third book, his heart pounding in his ears as he read, "This one says, 'Secondly, and probably most importantly, all my books-'"

Steve cut himself off as his heart got caught in his throat, but he swallowed as he started over, "'Secondly, and probably most importantly, all my books are about you and me, and the way I wish they'd been for us. (3/4)', and his signature again."

"Holy shit!" Robin said, practically lunging at him as she begged him to read the last one.

"And finally, this one says, 'Lastly, I'd like to see you again. Maybe I can elaborate what I mean by all this, because I really want to. Enjoy this book, and even if you don't let me know your thoughts. Don't be giving this out to people, but-'"

Steve cut himself off again and slammed the book's cover shut, his face flushing even worse than before as he hid his face in his hands.

"What?! What did it say?!" Robin demanded, her hands waving around as she got more excited.

"He gave me his fucking number!" Steve practically screamed, pulling his hands away from his face as he looked at her with a weird smile. "Then he wrote happy birthday and signed his name again! Fuck, I don't know whether to scream or to go back in there and kiss him right on the fucking mouth! This is fucking Twilight Zone levels of insanity and I don't know whether to be happy or terrified!"

"Let's go with happy for right now, he wants to see you again! And all his books are about you! That's so cool! And he wants to see you again! This is definitely a win! I think you should call him tomorrow." Robin said, trying to hype Steve up.

"I don't know..." he said, picking at his sweater sleeve, "What if I make a fool of myself again? I wouldn't even know what to talk about with him. I'd just look dumb."

"I highly doubt he would think so. He practically lit up like a light bulb when he saw you!" Robin said.

"He choked on air when he saw me." Steve deadpanned.

"Yeah, but after that, he lit up! And he told you that his books, which are all romances, are about you! Seriously, you should call him. At least once you finish the book, that way if you don't talk about anything else, you can talk about that!" Robin argued, and Steve reluctantly agreed.

He was finished with the book by that time the next day. He loved it, every word, and he knew from the beginning that it was about him, but it was honestly both weird and heart melting to read his own life (albeit with a different outcome) written down on paper. He remembered the dedication in the book, how Billy said that the happy ending he wrote for Seth and Ben was how he wished things had gone for them back in high school, and finally, Steve buckled.

He called Billy.

[feverdancing]

Reflections

Reverse au, No. Four's indroductuion.

[hananene]

Ao3.

Have you heard the rumor?

They say if you enter a classroom on the second floor of the old school building after five p.m. on any Thursday, you may end up somewhere else entirely.

Katakuri, Number Four of the Seven Mysteries, is said to show you the past of who is on your mind.

Amane looked down the hallway, sweat beading up on his brow.

He didn't know what he was dealing with; this particular supernatural thing didn't exist while he was dead. 

Aoi-san told him the rumor a few days ago, and it struck him that he could finally get the answers he needed.

Glancing at his watch, it was just before five. 

The rumor wasn't specific to where her room was, so Amane figured he would just have to go through every classroom until he entered the boundary.

He places a hand on the first door, taking a breath.

Amane was finally one step closer to knowing what the hell happened… at least he hoped Katakuri would at least give him something to work with.

The watch on his wrist beeps quietly.

Without another moment, Amane slams open the door, stepping into the room.

…Only for it to be a regular classroom.

Amane frowned, turned around, closed the door, and moved to the classroom across from him.

The next few doors led to empty classrooms with no sign of the past.

He groaned, closing another door.

How many doors would he have to open?!

His watch read that about 10 minutes had passed.

Aoi-san never told him how long he had until he could not access this boundary.

Shaking his head, Amane pressed on. If he didn't find it today, he would find it next week. 

He had to find it.

Amane had to know what happened to Yashiro.

The next door had nothing in it, nor did the rest of the classrooms.

He came up completely blank.

Amane couldn't help but be annoyed. 

"It shouldn't be this hard to find this stupid supernatural." He muttered, walking back to the staircase dejectedly.

He must've been too late.

A door that was supposed to be closed creaked open behind him.

Amane jolted, his head snapping to stare at the door in confusion.

No one was there, and he knew he had closed that door not even five minutes before.

Grabbing onto the handle, he stared into the darkness that seemed to pour out from the classroom.

Amane swallowed. The blackness was unnerving.

He opened the door the rest of the way, peering into the pitch darkness.

Hands grabbed his shoulders, shoving him forward through the door, and slammed it behind him.

"Ow!" He yelped, crashing to the floor, his eyes screwed tight from the immediate pain in his hands and knees.

He clenched his teeth, opening his eyes to see how bad the fall was to his hands.

Amane sat on wooden floors.

It wasn't pitch black.

He looked up.

Amane ended up in a bedroom.

The bed pressed against the wall in the corner had pink blankets, and the walls were bare of decorations.

"what the…" He paused, "I'm in the boundary!"

He smiled triumphantly.

The opening of a door and a feminine sigh interrupted his victory.

Amane turned around.

"Hanako—" Her name catches in his throat at her appearance.

The door clicks as she locks it behind her.

He's caught off guard by how she looks when she turns around.

She slowly walked forward, wincing with every step.

Hanako's legs were covered in bandages.

His stomach twists at the suspicion that the rest of her body would be similarly bandaged.

Her droopy red eyes, which he only remembers holding love and affection, held so much pain; the light that shone had long been put out.

A glitter of metal in her hand sent a pang of fear through him.

Hanako-san— no this wasn’t Hanako, this was Yashiro. 

Yashiro had a knife in her hand.

He watched mutely as she walked through him, standing in the center of her room, her shoulders relaxing as she sank to the ground and held the knife in front of her.

The girl looked around the room, taking in the details of the room.

A quiet, shaky exhale left her.

Amane watched in horror as she lifted the knife and angled it to her stomach.

"No!" Amane yelled, stumbling forward, reaching for her.

Yashiro's body shook as she took deep breaths.

He fell through her, tumbling to the ground.

Amane looked back at her, his face whitening at her expression.

She was smiling.

Her breathing was shallow and uncontrolled, and she was trying to steel herself for what she was about to do.

He watched as she blinked away tears, sniffling quietly with that smile on her face.

Amane screamed as she did it.

He begged her to stop. Pleading for her to drop the knife, to reconsider and live the rest of the life she deserved.

But this was a memory. His logic spoke underneath the panic. He couldn't stop something that had already happened.

It wasn't until her body lay on her side in a large pool of blood, staining her pale hair and skin, he was pulled away.

He blinked, and he was no longer in her bedroom.

Tears poured from his eyes, "Yashiro," He croaked out.

"Did you find what you wanted?" a male voice asked, his tone woven with something akin to sorrow.

Amane looked up, gasping for air.

He saw a tall man through his warped vision.

"What?" Amane spoke through his tears, his face twisted with confusion.

"I asked if you found what you wanted. Did you see what you wanted to?"

"Huh?" He blinked, rubbing away tears, surprised by this man he had never seen before, "What?"

"You sought me out to find something, to see something. I just want to know if you got what you wanted," The man kneeled, holding his hand out to him, "Come on,"

He took his hand, staring at his face, "Who are you?"

"Eh," the man looked surprised. "The name's Katakuri. Although you should know that…"

"I thought you were supposed to be a girl,"

For some reason, Amane found that sentence ironic, although he couldn't understand why he would feel that way.

"Huh—!" Katakuri jerked forward, “A girl! No! I'm not a girl! Why the hell would I be a girl!" 

"But the rumor…"

"Do you believe everything you hear!?" 

"Sorry," Amane absent-mindedly apologized, trying to come to terms with what he had just witnessed. His head spun, unable to understand what transpired in the memory.

"It's fine—I guess it can't be helped." Katakuri sighed, dismissively waving his hand. You're Honorable No. Seven's assistant, right?"

"How'd you know?" Amane asked, looking around the classroom.

It was exactly as he saw it the last time.

"Well, it's Hanako-chan we're talking about. You know how she is—" His eyes practically bulged out of his head with how wide his eyes became, and he flailed back with a yelp.

"Wha—" A knife comes from behind him, slashing at Katakuri. [its blade gleams with a dark red substance]

"Hands off him!" A voice yelled from behind.

Amane felt a hand wrap around his waist, pulling him back into someone,

"Don't even think about touching Yugi-kun," Hanako-san snapped at the man in front of them, who was quick to raise his hands with a nervous smile,

"Wouldn't dream of it, Honorable Number Seven!"

She let go of Amane, moving to be in front of him.

"He didn't do anything to you, did he?" She asked, turning to face him once she decided Katakuri wasn't a threat.

"Are you okay?" The words tumble out before he can process them.

"Huh?" Hanako paused, staring at him in confusion, "I'm not sure I understand," She glanced to the side, picking at her seal. "Did something happen?"

Amane stared at her, a frown etching into his face as he furrowed his brows, "Hanako-san…."

"Yugi, you're the one crying. Why are you crying?"

His feet wobbled under him, stomach dropping as his mind replayed what he just witnessed.

He shook his head.

"Are you sure you're okay?" He reiterated. 

He wasn't really asking if she was okay right now. 

His mind was unable to escape the living girl he never knew.

Hanako eyed him briefly before roller her eyes, 

"Why wouldn't I be? We didn't even get into a scuffle," she huffed, "He should know better than just taking my assistant!"

Amane glanced away.

It wasn't like Katakuri had gone to search for him.

Aoi-chan told him about the rumor, and Amane decided to find him. 

It was wrong of him to pry into her past. 

He knows that! But Hanako-san wasn't someone who would open up about what the hell was precisely going on, nor would she be okay with knowing he knew something. 

Amane was tired of the repeated dreams of a girl with long pale hair that blended into a green. That girl smiled at him and gave him donuts. These were dreams where his hands were transparent, where he was cold, and she was overwhelmingly warm to the touch.

He was tired of not understanding why he was dreaming of a girl who couldn't get water on her, if she did she would turn into a fish.

A girl who looks identical to Hanako-san yet… yet she acted so different there was no way it could possibly be her.

…And yet, he knew it was her.

Amane was tired of not knowing how it was her.

And yet Amane was still nowhere closer to finding out what the hell was going on.

"Thankfully, you're okay, Yugi," Hanako breathed out.

Hopefully, you didn't see anything I didn't want you to.

"...Right," Amane hesitantly agrees with her, averting his eyes.

The blood in the dream felt too real. The way it pooled around her, that kitchen knife she wields in her afterlife sticking uncomfortably out of her, those wide, lifeless ruby eyes matching the sticky substance pouring out of her.

His stomach churned, thinking about the smile on her lips after what she had done to herself. 

She committed suicide. And her corpse bore a smile.

Amane couldn't understand how she could be happy. How could she possibly smile? How could she smile while she killed herself?

"Yugi." Her voice startled him from his thoughts.

Her blood-red eyes stare into his. She was only a few inches away from his face.

Amane jumped, stepping backward. 

His foot slipped on the floor, causing him to tumble to the floor with a yelp.

Hanako-san gasped, her hands flying towards him, trying to help stop his fall, but her hands went through his.

She cringed at the sound of him hitting the floor, 

"Oh my! I'm so so sorry, Yugi!" She cried out, "I didn't mean to startle you!"

Amane sat. Wincing in pain, "Oww— It's fine, Hanako-san," He waved a hand, his other one rubbing his hip, "Sorry I spaced out,"

Hanako-san frantically looked him over, "I still should've been more careful— you humans are fragile!" She tugged on his arm, "Sorry,"

"I'm okay," He reiterated, pushing himself off the ground and letting her assist him up, "I'm not that fragile, Hanako-san,"

She pursed her lips, clearly not believing him, "If you say so, Yugi-kun,"

Amane scoffed, "You really need to give us living more credit— Sure, we don't possess supernatural abilities, but we aren't porcelain,"

"I know, I know. I’m sorry, Yugi-kun, I just…” Hanako-san trailed off, "I don't want you getting hurt,"

He sighed, reaching out and tugging a strand of her hair, "A small fall isn't going to injure that bad. You are way too protective,"

She checks him over once again, "It's not just that— You had a run-in with a supernatural. I can't help but worry about what he did to you,"

"Katakuri did nothing, Hanako-san," He twisted to face her as she moved around him, "I went to look for him. Not the other way around,"

"Why would you do that?" Hanako-san asked, looking at him with furrowed brows, "What purpose would seeking out another school mystery serve you? Are you purposely being stupid and getting into trouble?"

"Huh?" He jumped at the accusation, "Of course not!"

Amane's hands flailed in front of him, "I just wanted…" his explanation caught in his throat.

She would be livid if he admitted he went behind her back to learn about who she was.

Er… livid would be underselling how she would feel.

"I… haven't met most of the school mysteries. I wanted to meet the others,"

Nene blinked.

Amane winced at how awful the lie was. She wouldn't believe it, and he knew she wouldn't.

He opens his mouth to try to lie again, but her laughter cuts him off,

"Yeah? You want to meet the others? Why?" she giggled, "They're all lame and boring, I'm the one to be around,"

…She actually bought it.

His mouth opened and closed a few times, stunned that she believed such a blatant lie,

"I— Well," He pouted, "I wanted to see what they were like since you haven't introduced them all to me,"

"Ah," She sighed dramatically, shaking her head in disbelief, a smile on her face, "I suppose if you're really that desperate to meet them, I can introduce you to a few sometimes,"

[jumpywhumpywriter]

Epilogue

Warnings: none

Somewhere else, in a dark, long abandoned storage building...

   "Are you certain this is the right location?" James grumbled irritability.

   "Sir, the message was clear as day. This is the one," The guard standing at his side said stiffly.

   James scowled and waved a hand at him. "Fine. You are dismissed, then."

   The guard saluted briefly before backing out the door and shutting it closed behind him, leaving James inside. The building was poorly lit, as it hadn't been used in several years, and the lights were in desperate need of changing.

   James stayed quiet and listened to his surroundings carefully, searching for signs of something in particular.

   "I assume you are already here, no? Look, I don't have all day to wait for you to come out and discuss whatever it was you wanted to talk to me about. Your message was quite... vague. The only reason I'm even standing here freezing my toes off right now is because I am intrigued to know how you managed to get an encrypted message past Jackal’s many protocols and protections. You must have been very desperate to go to such great lengths to get my attention."

   " 'Desperate' is not exactly the term I would use for it."

   James stiffened as a smooth, deep, rumbling, dripping voice sounded from somewhere close by. Something about it sent a cold shiver up his spine, and made his hair stand on end. He didn't like it one bit.

   "Ah, so you are here," he said, shaking off the uneasy feeling. "Why don't you come over where I can see you better? Then we can talk like two dignified men."

   "Oh? Is that what you want me to do, now? Because I find it rather rude to put me in the line of fire of your sniper before we have even been acquainted," the voice chuckled darkly.

   For the first time, James felt a small spike of fear.

   How did he know I have a sniper? He had prided himself on taking every precautionary measure to ensure that the meeting with the mystery man who had sent the message wouldn't be a trap. That included placing a sniper outside, and a small squad of heavily armed Jackal soldiers directly outside the door to the building. And he himself held a silent alarm button in his pant pocket. A single press was all it took, and the whole place would be swarmed with Jackal soldiers.

   "Don't worry, your sniper is intact. Unconscious, but alive. You should thank me for that. I don't usually show such grace to those who try to knowingly lure me into danger." The strange voice echoed around the building, and James realized with concern that he couldn't tell which direction it was coming from.

   I have no idea where he is. And that worried him more than anything else.

   "You didn't really think I would come here unprotected, did you?" James said to the empty air, forcing his voice to come out strong and confident.

   "Of course not. My greatest apologies. I would have my reservations about this meeting too, if I were in your shoes. I can't blame you for the... excessive safety measures." The darkness chuckled again. "Although, you must know by now, that if I had wanted to harm you, I would have done so by now."

   "So what do you want then? Why did you ask me to come here?" James snapped impatiently. He was suddenly looking forward to getting out of the creepy building with the stranger he couldn't see.

   "Show me who you are!" He demanded.

   "If I do that, I might scare you," the voice purred, and it sounded highly amused.

   "I'm sure I can handle it," James said hotly. He hated that this stranger was treating him like a mere child. And the way he spoke... it rubbed him the wrong way, though he couldn't explain why.

   "As you wish. But know that you have been warned." James squinted into the darkness near one of the empty shipping containers in the corner as a figure stepped out from behind it, walking unhurried into the light. His eyes went wide once he got a closer look at the mystery man.

   He was average-sized, with brown hair and strangely amber eyes, which were a piercing color that James had never seen before. But what was most astonishing, was that this man had wings, like a giant bird. Massive dark brown wings that almost trailed on the ground behind him as he walked closer.

   "W-What--What is this--" James couldn't shake himself out of his shock. He couldn't comprehend what he was seeing standing in front of him.

   It looks like that white-winged one I heard of awhile back... he realized with a jolt. The one that had a major battle that ended up destroying nearly a whole quarter of the city.

   A... Falkry, wasn't it? He tried to remember what it was the man who had told him about it had called them. The weird bird-people. That looked just like the one in front of him. Which he quickly noticed was still approaching.

   He finally snapped out of his surprise and immediately whirled around and sprinted to the door, grabbing the handle to open it before realizing... that it was locked shut.

   "Sorry, but I anticipated that your first reaction would be to run away in fear. But I assure you, I don't pose a current threat," the stranger said. James whirled back around to see that he had raised his hands in a peaceful gesture. But James wasn't convinced.

   "What kind of monster are you?!" He shouted, fumbling in his pocket for the alarm button to alert his soldiers to come to his aid.

   "Yeah, that won't work either. I used an EMP to disable all electronics in the area. Guess you have no other choice but to stay here and listen to my offer." The stranger grinned in a self-satisfied manner, which is when James noticed the two strange, sharp, wolf-like canines protruding from the gums.

   "W-What do you want from me?" James sputtered weakly. There was a powerful, menacing aura radiating from this peculiar man, one that seemed to fill the entire building with its raw, terrible energy.

   "I want... an alliance. You have resources I need to achieve my goals. Specifically, I have made a particularly unfortunate enemy, one that is proving difficult to eliminate." The stranger smiled dangerously, a cold light glittering deep in his amber eyes. "And I believe I have something very valuable I could offer you in return for your assistance in dealing with my little problem. Something I think you will want quite badly."

   "And who are you, exactly?" James couldn't keep his voice from shaking in fear as he spoke.

   The stranger's dark brown wings flared elegantly to the sides, showcasing their impressive size and power, as he swept into a dramatic, mocking introductory bow with a flourish, chuckling low in his throat.

   "Many know me as the angel of death. But you can call me... Akeldema."

This is now the dreaded End of the Story… or is it?

Thank you all for following Shadow's journey in this book. Stay tuned for book 2! :)

⏪️ Back Teaser scene for book 2

City of Monsters and Magic Masterlist

Main Stories Masterlist

@scoundrelwithboba @lumpofsand @isikedmyself878 @iamheretohurt @fleur-a-whump

@ay5ksal @otterfrost @sausages-things @togzy

@whump-till-ya-jump @cravesunconditionallove @whumpwritinglover222

[xbalayage]

Phew i might be late but i am finally here.

❝ i have decided that i will no longer be thinking. not a single thought in this head, from this point onward. ❞ with Clavis!

The Joker

Clavis/Reader

Fluff/Chaos

WC: 400~

A/N: I struggled so bad with this.. I don't think I struggled writing someone as much as I did for Clavis. He's such a wild card, he left me overthinking. Hopefully it doesn't show too much in the writing. Looking back at it, I'm not sure if it was writing for Clavis that threw me off, or the prompt itself.

"I have decided that I will no longer be thinking. Not a single thought in this head, from this point onward," he spoke with such conviction emitting through his words but you couldn't help the growing ache in your stomach to keep yourself from laughing. You had to turn your body away from him, trying deeply to support him in his conclusion. But your eyes met Cyran's - his eyes roamed Clavis' back which was facing the two of you for a moment and then traveled back to yours, shaking his head from side to side. His eyes spoke volumes: don't laugh. It would be all over if either one of you laughed. Truth be told, nobody in the room ever once thought Clavis has ever had a single logical thought ever bouncing around in his head. Didn't he just strictly run on auto-pilot? But these were all just perceptions that he never corrected other people on. He could play the fool, and also get you to drink the poison he offered with a smile on his face just as well. The thought or even just the audacity of realizing what he JUST said beforehand to that statement made it harder to bear to keep the laughter concealed. Rambling on about committing to a life of abstinence; one no longer attached to the filth of tomfoolery and chaotic tendencies or the creator of mysterious concoctions and cakes anymore. He, would now, live as an honest man. A honest gentleman. Oh god, the longer you stared at Cyran, the harder it became to keep it inside. He held a better mask, but you could see in his eyes that somewhere deep, he wanted to laugh as well. Neither of you could take him seriously, but you both wanted to support him -- that was, until Clavis turned around suddenly, a mustache adorned his face; you completely lost it. This was a set up!!! The known prankster was leading you both astray and you should've known better. Him? Giving up his nefarious ways for a moment of clarity? It was too good to be true. But now, a mischievous glint was in his eyes; a tall tell sign of terrible things to come. Before you knew it, your feet took off beneath you and the sound of his laughter echoed from behind. Today was going to be terrible for any and everyone. The wrath of Clavis has awoken.

taglist; @nightghoul381, @yvelk, @celiciaa, @drachonia, @aquagirl1978, @here-for-gilbert, @venulus, @strawberry-scum

[mania-sama]

3. What work are you most proud of (regardless of kudos/hits)?

6. Favorite title you used / 29. Favorite line/passage you wrote this year?

19. What’s one pairing you want to explore next year?

27. What do you listen to while writing?

yes thank you SO much for sending in questions!! i will take any and all opportunities to talk about myself. i seem to REALLY yap in this though so be warned

➼ 3. What work are you most proud of (regardless of kudos/hits)?

I have a few fics in mind, mainly because I am quite proud of myself any time I am able to produce something I like, but I think just one takes the cake. And I am going to talk about it.

I am so, so incredibly proud of with every line, a comedy. Where do I even begin with this fic? All in all, I think it's a very emotionally impactful story. The entire moral of it is that it is better to handle grief with someone rather than alone. In the last chapter, to resolve the prevailing conflict, Kaveh and Alhaitham... have a conversation on their living room couch. Yes. And while that reads rather anticlimactically, the entire story had been leading up to that, that one conversation. It's when everything is revealed, like at the end of a Sherlock Holmes novel where Sherlock explains the entire mystery in a few paragraphs. The conversation is vulnerable, raw, miserable, and most importantly, packed full of love.

You see, the story follows the Genshin Impact characters Alhaitham and Kaveh (which I'm sure none of my followers know or play Genshin, so the only context needed is that they are roommates with extremely queer undertones. They also have never really had dreams, like the action of dreaming while asleep, until the beginning of the fic). Right after they regain their dreams, Alhaitham has a series of nightmares in which places, people, and things are destroyed without his control. Kaveh, on the other hand, starts sleepwalking. Since it's set in Alhaitham's point of view, Alhaitham spends the entire fic trying to unravel the mystery behind Kaveh's sleepwalking dreams before Kaveh breaks. But Alhaitham is emotionally stunted, and Kaveh is making it incredibly difficult for Alhaitham to get anywhere at all. Kaveh doesn't want to open up, but Alhaitham knows Kaveh needs to. Every night, Kaveh is getting into increasingly dangerous situations where he's getting harmed. His behavior is closed-off and erratic, which is out-of-character for him except for in times of stress.

I ran with the idea that dreams are a way for the mind to process information. I used that to show how trauma may leak through. To avoid spoiling anything, all I will say is that Kaveh was reliving a childhood memory. For Alhaitham, I feel like a character as meticulous as him would hate it when things fell apart in a manner that he had no control over. The first dream involves a library collapsing, the next of his house on fire. His dreams are also a reflection of his real life; outside of his first, the rest of his dreams all have the commonality of Kaveh. His mind is absolutely flooded with worry, and that comes out in his subconscious frequently.

Everything about this fic is so special to me. Alhaitham is both deaf and neurodivergent in the fic, so I got to play with how he would view his own deafness and how that would come out in his dreams (which meant I got to make up fun hand signs for his and Kaveh's names!). Tighnari administers numbing shots and medical care on his living room couch at midnight, which is a vital scene to show how important a support system is (people willing to help you in times of need, regardless of how impractical the help may be, and how a support system should not be just one person). And, of course, the whole thing is about how vulnerability is not a sign of weakness; it is a strength. It is not strong to carry weight alone - you will collapse under it. Not only will you hurt, but you will hurt others who love and care about you.

There is also another moral buried in there somewhere about how privacy is important. If someone does not divulge information, especially about their trauma or past, then you have no right to obtain it in other ways. That person will feel betrayed, and any trust you built, any progress you'd made in getting that person to open up; it will be destroyed, and their personal progress in healing from that trauma may be damaged.

I am proud of this fic because I achieved exactly what I wanted to. I told an impactful story with an important moral that not only spoke to me, but to the people who read it. I will love it to the day I die.

➼ 6. Favorite title you used

Most of my fics are song titles, which means only a handful of titles came from my head. That being said, gojo satoru's guide to being a good father: cheating is only tolerable if it happens in monopoly has GOT to be my favorite. When I tell you I let go in this fic, it's not only in regards to the story. It starts in the TITLE. It still makes me giggle every time I read it. Like, yeah, I AM funny.

It's also good, in my opinion, because it gives me an easy opportunity to revisit it if I make another fic/make a series out of it. For example, I did have another short one-shot I wanted to add to it that kind of resembles the same out-of-pocket storyline, perhaps in the same universe, which I had lovingly titled gojo satoru's guide to being a good father: boyfriends are Public Enemy #1 unless they get accidentally arrested for tax fraud. I just love that I have a place to return to if I ever need to let myself go again.

(I have a fic in the works that may top that, however. But I will not reveal it because I have FULL intentions of finishing and releasing that fic... at some point.)

➼ 29. Favorite line/passage you wrote this year?

This will not come as a surprise. I didn't write a lot of fics this year, but I blame that on being inordinately busy and having started a LOT of long fics, but never completing them (staring hard at the four and a half chapters of the Jujutsu Kaisen x Hunger Games AU rotting in my docs). I could pull something from there because God knows there's a lot of it, but I won't. I will give you a line from what I think is my most well-written fic this year (and of all time), if you need me, dear, i'm the same as i was:

“—you would have stayed.” Iwaizumi finishes, his entire body tensed as tightly as a coiled spring. “That’s why I never asked. I wanted to. God knows I wanted to, but I didn’t. Because if I had told you that I couldn’t bear the very idea of you being further than a train ride away from me, you would’ve stayed in Japan, and you would have been miserable. The only thing here for you was me, and I am not good enough to get in the way of your career.” And Iwaizumi can’t stop now. “Here’s something that you don’t understand, Oikawa. When you love someone, you let them go.”

If WELAC didn't exist, this fic would be the answer to the first question you asked. I am incredibly proud of this fic; not a single word was wasted. This line in particular was one that I had in mind when I started the fic; getting there was the rest of the story. In fact, the conversation that Iwaizumi and Oikawa have to get to this spot nearly gave me an aneurysm. No matter what, these two did not want to talk to each other. They did not want to have a meaningful conversation; they did not want to address the elephant in the room even if their lives depended on it. I had to WRESTLE them into conversing.

And that second-to-last and last part of his speech ("The only thing here for you was me, and I am not good enough to get in the way of your career." & “Here’s something that you don’t understand, Oikawa. When you love someone, you let them go.”) is what's important. When you look at the entire, not once does Iwaizumi ever express any self-doubt or self-deprecation towards his career or his abilities or even in his relationship with Oikawa prior to Oikawa's departure. He's not confident, per se, but he knows he does his job well and he'd been a good friend. The speech is not, therefor, making a commentary on himself not "being good enough" for anyone or anything. He knows Oikawa well enough to know that Oikawa will never get more love or joy out of anything except for volleyball. Iwaizumi did not want to get in the way of that. He did not want Oikawa to settle for someone that would prevent him from achieving great things.

Hence, he is not good enough to get in the way of Oikawa's happiness. And that context is important to understanding the second part about letting your loved ones go. He knows Oikawa loves him, and he loves Oikawa in return. But that love would only clip Oikawa's wings. Even if Oikawa hates him for it, even if he doesn't understand why Iwaizumi wouldn't keep him caged, Iwaizumi knew it was better to let Oikawa go. Like how one releases an eagle after months or years of rehabilitation, Iwaizumi opened his arms and let Oikawa fly.

So, that's why it may be my favorite. But the whole fic is my favorite, really. Every line and passage could have been picked and it would have been an accurate answer to this question.

➼ 19. What’s one pairing you want to explore next year?

SakuAtsu (Sakusa Kiyoomi/Miya Atsumu from Haikyuu). It's all the previous fic's fault; they squeezed their way in as a background pairing and now I have made it my life's mission to produce a fic about them. Trust that I have three fics in the works right now. THREE. At least one will be released by next year. It's bound to happen.

➼ 27. What do you listen to while writing?

Nothing? Anything with lyrics is very distracting to me. I find that I am the most productive at two in the morning when everything is quiet and still. Everyone is sleeping, the streets are quiet, no birds chirping outside my window... I work best in silence with my phone buried somewhere that I can't get distracted by it.

I did go through a streak where I did play music, although it was purely instrumental. They weren't instrumentals of lyric-based songs, either; it was classical playlists and video game music from Genshin Impact and Child of Light. I actually listened to so much of the Child of Light soundtrack one year that I got into the top listeners on Spotify, and I received a message from the composer! Totally recommend both of those game soundtracks.

[bones-edition]

The aforementioned more cohesive* thoughts, or, Harlan Guthrie is an incredible writer:

Okay. So. A few things happened in this episode. I'm going to start with Daniel.

Daniel. There's just a whole nother tragic death in Arthur's life that was arguably his own fault. I mean, it wasn't his fault, but if course he's going to blame himself for it. It seemed like. They were actually getting somewhere. They had a bit of reconciliation going there. And then. Boom. Dead. Why do things like this keep happening to Arthur? And, well, he's still not out in the clear of this one yet, either.

On a semi related note, can we talk about how good of an antagonist the butcher is? Like. He's really just a guy. They've faced things that are, on paper, infinitely more dangerous than him. And yet, he's so scary. The way he seems like some sort of unstoppable force, even though they've managed to stop him before, even though he's just a human. It's the fact, I think, that he doesn't show any sign of distress. His voice never gives any hint of frustration, or even anger. He's so jovial, even while he takes away what hints of a new life Arthur has tried to build. It almost reminds me of someone else, but the butcher's casual, carefree additude is, I think, even more threatening than Kayne's hysterical joy, because even though he's not actually that much more powerful than Arthur, he presents himself like he is. He's just going about his daily business, and there's no conceivable way anyone could hinder him from it. And that, I think, is why he has such an impact.

Might talk more about how good the writing is in a bit, but first I need to address the proverbial elephant. I'm worried about John. It's obvious that Arthur knows something's wrong, and it's obvious that Arthur is worried, too. Towards the beginning of the season, I was worried about the argument it would cause when Arthur found out, but now I'm more concerned that John's stubborn refusal to let Arthur in on it will be both of their downfall. All we know about this deal John made with Kayne was that John would get Arthur to New York in return for being reunited with him, but we can see that there's something else up with John. And the two of them still have no idea that Yellow still exists, let alone that he's now in Larson. And where does Kayne factor into all this? What are his motives? There's no way for us to know, and it's driving me insane, because I just know it's important. That guy is just absolutely shrouded in mystery, and I know he's manipulating something behind the scenes that we're distracted from because we're focusing on the current happenings in New York. Also, tangentially related, but the song that John recognizes? What's up with that? I'm so goddamn invested in this story.

Also I continue to be incredibly impressed with the writing of every episode. The progression of this one was masterfully done. It incites our concern about John early on, and then quickly overshadows that with more concerns. John and Arthur emerge fairly successful from the conversation with Oscar, and things, are, overall, going well. And there's just a hint of time for that worry about John to surface before we're thrown into the interaction with Daniel. This has been something that has been building up for a long time, a climax of sorts. And tensions are high at the beginning, but the listener grows gradually more relieved throughout the course of the conversation. And then, just as Arthur mentions the butcher, the action picks back up again. The phone rings, we start to worry about the name situation, and things just start piling up. Oscar's on the phone, he sounds concerned. Oh no, Daniel left his address at the hotel, anyone could have found it, the butcher could have found it. Now there's someone at the door, the butcher knows the address, this is Not Good, and like that, Daniel's dead, Arthur's efforts were for nothing and there's not time for him to grieve because there's never time for Arthur to grieve, he has to run again, he has to run and hide and try to survive, again. And then the episode ends, leaving us stranded in that moment to try to process everything that just happened.

Anyway, I just really liked this episode. I really liked all the episodes. I really like the podcast. That's all. I feel slightly more insane than usual today, perhaps I spent too long outside and the smog is getting to my head.

*More cohesive as compared to the things I posted during the period of time I was listening to the episode. Not, you know, cohesive by some objective measure of the quality. That would be far from what I could hope to achieve on a Tumblr post about malevolent.

[total-drama-takes-takes-2]

episode 0 - a prologue

It’s a beautiful, sunny summer morning in Muskoka, Ontario. TV host Chris McLean is looking spiff and spim, dressed in his usual “too cool to care” casual look, tiny bag full of baby teeth around his neck, smile bright and blinding as he steps out in front of the camera crew for the first time that season. 

“Yo, we're coming at you live from Camp Wawanakwa somewhere in Muskoka, Ontario. I'm your host, Chris McLean, dropping season eight of the hottest reality show on television right now!

Here's the dealio: Twenty-two teens have signed up to spend eight weeks right here at this crappy summer camp, where they'll compete in challenges against each other then have to face the judgment of their fellow campers. After every challenge, one team will either survive another day or watch one of their team members walk down the Dock of Shame, take a ride on the loser boat, and leave Total Takes Island for good.

Their fate will be decided at the dramatic campfire ceremonies where each week, all but one camper will receive one marshmallow. In the end, only one will be left standing- and will be rewarded with cheesy tabloid fame and a small fortune, which, let's face it, they'll probably blow in a week. To survive, they'll have to battle black flies, grizzly bears, disgusting camp food...

 ...and each other.  Every moment will be caught on one of the hundreds of cameras situated all over the camp. Who will crumble under the pressure? Find out right here, right now, on Total... Takes... Island!"

Chris takes a deep breath as the director calls “CUT” and everyone moves their equipment to the docks in a flurry of production assistants and cords. Chris stands by, sipping on his low-fat white chocolate mocha and tapping his foot until he’s called up to his place. 

Just as rehearsed, he smiles, waits for the director’s signal, and then spots a gleaming white boat off in the distance just as the cameras begin rolling. 

“How about we meet our campers, huh?”

The boat arrives in mere seconds and the ramp rolls down for the first time of many, giving way to a short, brunet man who’s likely a little too excited for his own good. 

“Peter, my man, what’s up?”

Peter drops his bags, still onboard, and then bounds down the ramp to give Chris a spine-chilling hug. 

“This is so sweet, I’m on Total Drama Island! Nyehehehe,” he says before looking directly into the camera, finally releasing Chris. “Shoutout to the gang back home in Quahog! Joe, Cl-”

Chris cuts in before he can divert the segment any further- they have a schedule to keep, after all. “Great! Here’s Sha-Mod!”

The next contestant off is a gentleman wearing a gray hoodie, and, strangely, a large printed out photo of former contestant Lightning over his face. Chris blinks- it’s certainly not the strangest thing he’s ever seen, but it’s definitely new. “Hey, man, what’s with the face?”

Sha-Mod shakes his head. “As if I'd let a bunch of randos see my real face,” and with that, he picks up his bags and walks away. Chris stares in bewilderment for a moment before the next contestants arrive. 

“Alrighty, then. Next up we have a classic three-parter: Joner, McLovin, and Michael!”

The boat speeds away as the next three approach. McLovin- a too-tall too-skinny nerdlet with glasses that hang at the tip of his nose- is holding one of Joner’s- a too-short too-fat teenage boy lite- hands, while Michael- an average-sized green haired girl in a parka- holds his other. 

Chris stifles a laugh. “What’s with the, uh…” he gestures to the hands. 

Michael starts: “He-”

McLovin makes sure to butt in, very matter-of-factly. “He’s scared of boats,”

A brief flash of annoyance crosses Michael’s face. “Yeah, that,”

“My buddies are just looking out for me, and besides, nothing wrong with best friends holding hands!” Joner pipes in happily, beaming. Chris chuckles. 

“Great. I see not a single way this friendship could possibly go awry!” he says. “Next up, Fren!”

The boat comes by with a mysterious figure on board. Everyone stares in awe as Fren, a steampunk-esque quirked up white boy with pink hair stands aboard. The boat stops and he steps off and gives a formal bow. “Nice to make your acquaintances,”

Chris chuckles yet again. “Formal. Nice,”

Fren offers a hand to Chris for him to shake, which he accepts with a grin. He sighs happily as Fren walks away- what a great season this is going to be. 

“Next- Julia!”

Julia beams at the slowly-growing group as the boat disappears once again. She adjusts her glasses and tightens her ponytail before smiling professionally at the group. 

“I also go by Jules, if you'd prefer,”

No one verbally responds, though Joner waves. 

Chris smiles. “Good for you. Austin!”

Julia's calm, confident entrance is immediately crushed by a wave of groovy tunes and good vibes. A tall, bespectacled swinger is standing at the very edge of the boat, arms out Titanic-style. He grins, showing off his extremely British teeth, and shouts loud enough for the rats on land to hear. 

“Right groovy baby yeah!!”

Before the boat can dock, Austin dives off it and plops into the water below. After a few seconds, he resurfaces and scales the docks, approaching the crowd whilst dripping wet. He flashes a smile at the ladies and swipes seaweed off his shoulder. 

“Lovely birds out today, yeah?”

Julia and Michael both give him a strange look and then glance at each other with the same mystified expression

“Psychedelic, man,” Chris says. “Courtney, everyone!”

Courtney is the picture of grace as they step off the boat, the sun reflecting off their many piercings and highlighting their pink hair. They're clearly trying to make a good impression as they grin and waves. 

“Happy to be here! It's nice to meet everyone,”

Everyone gives a half-enthused wave except for Austin, who smiles widely and waves excitedly. 

“And give a warm welcome to Patrick!”

Contrasting Courtney’s warmth, Patrick walks rigidly down the docks, listening to something over his headphones with a deadened expression. 

Courtney puts on a smile and attempts to approach, much to everyone else’s dismay. “Hi, it’s nice to-”

In a single shove, Patrick moves Courtney out of his way and continues on his stiff path to the edge of the docks, where he proceeds to brood in silence. 

“Jeez, what’s his deal?” Joner scoffs. 

McLovin nudges his friend with his elbow. “Dare you to hug him,”

“No way! Make Michael do it!”

“As if!”

Michael groans and turns to her other side as McLovin and Joner bicker. 

Julia winces on her behalf. “Do you know those guys?”

She sighs and gives an apologetic smile. “Friends from back home,”

“Ah, I see…”

The boat returns, though this time, there’s a definite spooky, dark, looming energy emanating from it. Chris grins wickedly. 

“Scary and Frollo, glad to see you,”

First off is Scary, who cartwheels down the ramp and lands perfectly next to Patrick. He ignores her. Frollo steps off the boat next, clutching a Bible, and joins the crowd. though, when he notices he's standing too close to the women he takes a step away.

“Kitty!”

Kitty has the exact opposite energy as they bound off the boat on all fours and then somersault into the water, disappearing into the ocean.

“Mal!”

Mal steps off with her head held high, clutching her phone closely. She's not a spectacle, but she emanates a certain intimidating energy, Courtney's eyes widen and they suddenly seem very nervous.

“Hello, Chris,” Mal smiles. “Great day, huh?”

“Nice to see you,” Chris grins back. “But, we do have a no-phones policy, so... Chef!”

Chef walks onto the dock and skewers Mal's phone with a spear, then dumps its sparking body in the water. She reacts with a small smile, though her left eye twitches.

“No biggie! Just happy to be here,” she walks off and stands besides Courtney, giving them a small, slightly sinister smile that quickly disappears when Julia looks over. Courtney shudders. 

“Bonnie, welcome aboard!”

Bonnie steps off the ramp, looking thoroughly unimpressed. They set down their bags and walk over to Chris. “I was told we'd have wifi?”

Chris chuckles. “Oh, yeah. We lied about that,”

Bonnie grumbles and then steps away, standing beside Mal and Courtney.

“You know what I do when I'm having internet withdrawals? I take deep breaths and count to ten,” Mal says, still smiling. Her voice is soft and calm, though there’s something unsettling about it. Bonnie frowns. 

“Sure. Thanks,”

“Scruffy, our local Total Drama historian!”

Scruffy jumps straight off the boat, clutching a disposable camera and a notepad. “Glad to be here, man! my master thesis is gonna be concrete after this season, I'll tell ya,”

“If you survive it!”

“What?”

“Huh? Oh, here's Ass!”

Ass steps off-board, looking not quite happy but not quite upset, either.

“Welcome to-”

Ass holds a finger up to chris, silencing him with their sheer power alone, and then stands near Patrick and Scary at the end of the dock

Chris shudders. “Yeesh. Max!”

Max follows, looking over the crowd of people already collecting on the docks. He’s dressed like he wants to get booted first, in a prep school uniform- tie and all. 

He sighs. “Not impressed,”

“That makes two of us, buddy. Alex!”

A fairly good-looking brunett with sharply cut bangs steps off the boat and frowns deeply, their eyes darkening. “Um, actually, I sent your legal department an invoice, I use Staci, thank you very much,”

“Oh, we got it, it's just that we already had a Staci-”

“Yeah, that's the point,” they roll their eyes.

Staci walks over to the crowd and stands between Austin and Julia.

They give the both of them an angry glance and then look back dead-ahead. “It’s Staci,”

Austin and Julia look at each other nervously and then nod. 

“O and Kelly!”

Kelly and O step off, also holding hands. Kelly, though the same age as everyone else, has a certain milf-y energy about them. O looks ill but is smiling anyway. The two are talking amongst themselves as they step down the ramp. 

“And just remember, next time you're feeling seasick, just let me know,”

“Thank you, Kelly,”

Chris chuckles. “How sweet. And finally-”

Chris is suddenly interrupted by the sound of a helicopter landing. Everyone covers their ears and ducks down to avoid the winds, except for Austin, who is blown straight back into the water by the air current.

The helicopter stops and someone steps off- an impeccably dressed television icon in purple, who just about everyone recognizes.

He grins. “I hope I'm not late,”

Chris’ eyes narrow and he sighs before responding in a low grumble. “Just in time, Caesar,”

“And I'm sure you got my memo?”

“Affirmative,”

“Lovely. Then I'm glad to be here,”

He turns straight to the camera. “This is Caesar Flickerman, reporting live from Wawanakwa! May the odds be ever in my favor, amirite?!”

No one responds. Chris seethes a little before collecting himself. “Right! anyway, group photo, anyone? for memory's sake?”

Everyone grumbles in dismay, but shuffles to the end of the dock as Chris takes the picture from the shore.

“Ready? one- two- three- say "Wawanakwa!"”

Before the contestants can respond, the helicopter suddenly takes off, blowing everyone into the water. Chris laughs.

---

Chris has everyone gathered around the campfire now, either standing, sitting on the slightly-burnt grass, or seated on one of the few logs placed around the pit. 

“This is camp Wawanakwa, your home for the next two months. The idle teens beside you will be your teammates, your competitors, and maybe even your friends, but more importantly, the camper who remains throughout the competition will win one million dollars!”

A happy murmur rumbles through the crowd. 

“You'll be living alongside each other in the team cabins- one side for girls and such, one side for boys and such. Here's the deal: if I call your name, I want you to stand over here, behind me,”

“Austin,”

“Frollo,”

“Jooooner,”

“Julia,”

“Kellllly!”

“Max,”

“Michael,”

“O,”

“Scary,”

“Scruffy,”

“And Staci! You are the Inane Anons!”

Joner frowns as he looks at McLovin on the other side of the fire pit. “Ah, crap. sorry, man,”

“No, it's ok. I'll take my loss like a man,” McLovin steps away from Joner and Michael and tears up. Courtney pats his back reassuringly, and gives a concerned look to the rest of the team. 

“The rest of you are the Flying Fujoshis!”

Fren grins. “Cool,”

“You and your team will be on camera in all public areas during your time here- you'll also be able to hold confessionals in the outhouse to get whatever's on your mind out to the world!”

xxx

Bonnie crosses their arms and frowns. “Yeah, this is terrible. But I might as well make the best of it while I can. There's bound to be some terrible, mind-numbingly awful drama here, so... at least I won't be bored,”

---

Peter is grinning, so close to the camera you can barely see his face. “This is sweet!!”

---

Patrick simply sits and stares into the camera. 

---

Chris grins. “Any questions?” Everyone raises their hand. “No? great! your cabins are right up ahead.”

---

Patrick frowns as he enters, slinging a long duffel bag over his shoulder as he studies the cabin. “This is terrible,”

“I don't know, it's kind of giving... cute, campy, even!” Caesar chuckles, dusting the dirt off the bunk-bed blankets. The two turn to Sha-Mod as he begins walking back outside. 

“I think I just saw a rat giving birth under one of the beds,”

Peter awwwws as Patrick and Caesar look at each other nervously. 

---

Scary walks in and immediately crawls under one of the beds on all fours. 

Julia raises an eyebrow but says nothing, and walks over to the other bed, setting down her things. Michael is on the bunk above

“You might want to take a top bunk, man. I'm pretty sure I saw a possum laying eggs under this one,”

Julia’s face flushes white and she picks her bags right back up. “Noted!” she says as she moves to the bunk across the room. 

Kelly enters and grins, lugging several heavy designer suitcases behind her and panting. “Say.. could I... ask you girls for a little... Help over here?”

Julia scoffs, earning a frown from Kelly, but Michael shrugs and slides off the top bunk, going around to the other end of the large suitcase and hefting it up with a wheeze.

“Jesus, this is heavy, what's in here? Bricks?”

Kelly chuckles. “Portable tanning bed. Never leave home without it!”

Michael blinks. “Right,”

“Where exactly do you think you're gonna fit all that junk?” Julia asks, crossing her arms. Kelly thinks for a moment, surveying the cramped cabin with a frown before turning back to the girls with an apologetic smile. 

“Anyone not using their bed?”

Chris’ voice suddenly blares over the loudspeakers. 

“Attention, campers! Put on your swimsuits and meet me at the top of the big old cliff across the island in ten minutes for your first challenge!”

[crystallinearts]

so hey guys, I'm doing NaNoWriMo this year! if you want, come be writing buddies with me! https://nanowrimo.org/participants/aj-strong

and check out my latest project, which I'm hoping will be my first published novel (if I'm able to publish it for people to read for free somewhere uwu), The Lovely Disaster Sideshow! It's a mystery, horror, adventure, historical, weird mishmash that takes place in a Victorian Era circus!

Here's the cover, and below the cut are some bullet-point details about the main characters!! Let me know what you think so far, and... well, get ready for me to do very little else throughout November XD

ABIGAIL HUGHES AND EULALIA "LALI" HUGHES

Mother and daughter protagonists

Abigail (late 20s) is missing a hand and Lali (6 years old) is unable to speak due to trauma (Abigail’s missing hand and Lali’s trauma are both from the accident which killed Abigail’s husband)

They fill the jobs of whatever needs done within the circus after joining; cooking, mending, running errands

Abigail occasionally performs with Bharata after he teaches her tricks on how to live without one hand

Lali enjoys working with Estelle and Cedar particularly, but the entire circus is protective of her as their youngest member

Native English

RINGMASTER

The circus ringleader, the master of ceremonies who runs shows and hires new workers

A friendly fellow (late 30s-early 40s) who welcomes anyone into the circus, regardless of disabilities or age, as long as they can work in some way or another

Creative in describing the sideshows to attract the attention of the public

In reality a cold, calculating bigot who is bitter toward, resentful of, and disgusted by the ‘freaks’ he employs in the circus

Native English

GWYNN

“The Eyeless Albino” visual oddity (pure white hair, no eyes)

A young man (early 20s) who is completely albino and was born without any eyes

He is entirely blind and relies on other people (most often Bharata and Siobhan) to help him around, though he’s learned to navigate most of the circus by sound as long as he has landmarks to go by; new areas confuse him until he learns the layout

His skin burns incredibly easily, meaning he often carries a parasol to block sun rays even when it’s cloudy

(His parasol also double functions as a makeshift cane) Welsh and a little English

SIOBHAN

“A Marvelous Mouth” sword swallower and fire breather

A young woman (early 30s) who is a former prostitute, leading the Ringmaster to capitalize on her relaxed gag reflex to make her into a sword swallower (and, occasionally when the shows need that extra oomph, fire breather)

Quite heavily tattooed, at least for the time period, she sports many tattoos on her arms, legs, back, and hands, as well as one on her neck; this causes many people to view her as a degenerate and adds to her ‘freakishness’ for the circus

Irish

CAIN AND ABEL

“Two-For-One Twins” visual oddity (conjoined twins)

Two young men (mid 20s) joined at the hip, they’re unable to be separated and sometimes have issues with moving around; they have separate bodies (two arms each, two legs each, separate torsos, separate heads, etc.) but their bodies are fused at the hip and doctors have all told them separation is too risky

They get along fairly well, with the occasional sibling fights, though they feel isolated even from the rest of the circus, stemming from only having had each other for most of their lives, especially given that they were the most recent additions before Abigail and Lali

Native English

ESTELLE

“Silent Angel” trapeze artist

A young woman (early 20s) who is almost entirely deaf and can only hear (barely) if someone is shouting right next to her ear, she cannot speak very well and prefers to communicate in other ways

She can’t read or write, but she’s made up her own variety of gestures (basically an individual sign language) to speak with the other circus performers, and she can read lips quite well

Short, petite, and kind… and will simply walk away from anyone who treats her or her friends cruelly

Spends hours teaching Lali her individual sign language, so that Lali can communicate even though she’s too traumatized to speak verbally

French and English

BHARATA

“One-Armed Wonder” knife thrower

A young man (late 20s) who has only one arm, and is perceived by many others as very clumsy; every household he’s worked for has set him up to fail by assigning him tasks that simply can’t be done with just one arm, leading him to find a belonging in the circus

Wanting to prove everyone wrong, he trained to do something that others thought couldn’t be done with only one arm: knife throwing… and is very good at it

He’s sympathetic toward Abigail and tries to teach her every single tip he has about how to live without one arm/hand

Indian

CEDAR

“Crystal Ball” fortune teller/palm reader/astrologist

A young nonbinary person (mid 20s) who was ostracized from society when they refused to answer to ‘she’, who ran away from home after their parents tried to beat them into conforming

No physical disability aside from dysphoria (which is obviously helped when they’re around supportive people who respect what they want to be called), and very supportive themself of the people in the circus who do have disabilities

Rather easygoing in terms of interacting with other people, they tend to simply go with the flow, but they’re also incredibly perceptive which is what makes them such a good fortune teller; while they do study palmistry, astrology, and tarot, they also employ the use of cold reading techniques (“might as well take advantage of all the gifts I have, including observation, right?”)

Native English

SALEM

“The Lizard Man” visual oddity (has X-linked ichthyosis resulting in scale-like skin)

A man (late 30s) who was cast out from society because of his strange appearance, stemming from his medical condition; people have been ‘terrified’ of his looks before, not to mention fearing that whatever he has is ‘contagious’ (despite him knowing from experience that he’s not)

Soft-spoken and gentle in general, but if one hits the right buttons he’s very capable of getting violent, particularly in defense of his friends

He has anywhere from 1-3 animals (that he’s nursing back to health) in his tent at any one time, even though he’s allergic to anything with fur… he has a soft spot for reptiles, though he adores all animals

Native English

[wgc-productions]

The Magnus Archives 2- Do Not Open Liveblog

I was told by @sol-draws-sometimes that episode 2 is a classic, which I'm especially looking forward to since I thought the first episode was fine but I wasn't totally overwhelmed with the need to immediately listen to it (I will say for shows that I liked straight out the gate Earth Eclipsed and Unwell are up there).

You can read my live reactions under the cut.

00:00- I'm always tired of ads but I'm never so tired as to pay for an ad free service. My impatience will never outweigh my frugality.

03:46- My secret problematic thought is that every time I hear an English accent I have a small moment where I forget the English are real people and there accents aren't a joke. Doesn't happen with the Irish, Scottish, or Welsh. Just the English. Wild to me that they really sound like that. Good for them.

05:34 See Joshua, the first problem is that you were in a possession of a casket at all. Also, depending on your relationship to life and grief, an empty casket is the best kind of casket to have.

07:59 Everybody is named John, here.

08:37- JOHN LENNON IS IT YOU? LIVERPOOL'S MOST FAMOUS J- NAMED BOY?!

12:14- See that's the problem. There are some things there just isn't enough money for. You can be doing just anything for funds.

13:37 Red Flag 574- Who has a pale yellow coffin

13:40 Red flag 548: Why do you need a padlocked coffin?

14:04- I can not begin to describe to you how much a padlocked coffin with a warning sign would very simply not be something I would ever touch or look at if I happened to be in this situation which, as previously discussed, I would never be in.

14:55- You are asking so many questions for no reason. Don't worry about. No longer go into that room. maybe get some holy water for extra luck.

16:30- This is the whitest nonsense. You're sniffing the mysterious locked coffin! Boy, if you don't start praying and go somewhere else. Go sit down somewhere, Joshua.

16:40- AND NOW YOU'RE TOUCHING IT! WITH YOUR BARE HANDS!

16:38- I mean, I would move it to another room so I could lock the room and isolate it, but I wouldn't touch it with my naked human hand.

17:10- This man would be terrible in the mob. He's asking too many questions.

17:33- Finally some common sense.

18:18- You know what?? If I heard movement from the inside of a locked coffin I fore surely would call a friend or family member, explain the situation, and go stay with them for 2-3 weeks. I would return, reassess the situation, and if the SCRATCHING continued I would move right back in with my loved one.

19:38- WHY ARE YOU CONSIDERING OPENING IT YOU GOOFY LITTLE GUMDROP? ARE YOU DUMB?! ARE YOU STUPID? DON'T OPEN THE BOX!

19:49- The people who would call you a coward are dead as we speak.

20:20- No! This is exactly when you want other people around. You want witnesses and you want a small army/fighting force. This is not a situation you survive alone.

21:39- I bet he's regretting taking that money.

21:52- Also, if you have $10,000 maybe it's time to put a down payment down at a new place and move.

22:57- Yeah, dude you've got a malevolent entity living in your house. You tend to have wonky sleeping habits when those are around.

26:42- He's so lucky he's alive, because he was son the brink of death for at least a year and half.

27:09- Dang Johnathan, way to be a buzzkill. He's the Scully of his department I'm sure.

28:48- Maybe he lived in a tough neighborhood, Johnathan? Ever think of that??!

Yeah, that was a good episode. It was, I wouldn't say gripping, but it was certainly well written and it was suspenseful. Though I do think the lack of a real resolution wasn't for me.

[sunny6677]

Cicadas: When October Sings. - BOOK 1

Summary:

Mysterious events begin to occur in a small suburban town Kevin lives in.

CHAPTER 8: Sweet Help.

————

"..mh. That was a bit much, wasn't it?"

"..to be honest.. yeah. It kinda was. It.. still did hurt to be teased like that though."

"Sorry. Guess I got too caught up in Poker."

"..you.. gonna be okay? I know you said you don't like grapes, so—"

"Yeah.. I'm alright. Not like I haven't been forced to do stuff I didn't want plenty of times anyway."

"..."

..well, Ethans punishment that I ended up reading aloud turned out to be one where he had to eat something he didn't like. He didn't like grapes, so Streber grabbed some from the kitchen, and ended up making him eat those. He seemed calm, but I saw how disgusted his expression was anytime he took a bite.

..I felt bad. It felt cruel, even if he was just teasing me.

Still, as I stood on the porch before him, ready to take myself home since I was done with my visit—the question I had earlier kinda entered my mind. Not to mention, he did talk about that whole incident with the statue earlier. Maybe there was a chance he might have known about it..? I tried searching it up on my phone earlier, but nothing came up.

The breeze brushed against my face, and I let my hands scrape anxiously against the back of my scalp. Ethan let out a sigh, leaning against the doorframe. Streber ended up running off to drive somewhere since he 'had something from yesterday he needed to finish'. I only assumed he must have meant those vampire teeth or something.

"..you think he's going to get those teeth?" Ethan asked.

"..yeah. Probably."

I paused, swallowing down a nervous lump in my throat. "..uh.. hey. I know this is.. kind of sudden. But—did you—ever hear about like.. I dunno.. something that might have happened at that construction area I said Streber went to yesterday?"

"Mmh.. kinda."

"..wait, really?"

"Yeah.. it ended up happening during the whole incident with the statue. Apparently they were just gonna dump the statue there when they built the building and leave it as useless trash rather than donate it somewhere." He softly laughed. "The old people here weren't having that though.."

"So.. what'd they do?"

"They protested.. y'know, like people usually do. They would always show up outside the mayor's office or any government place to protest with signs and stuff. Sometimes they'd even get kinda loud or try hitting government people specifically. There was a lot of stuff that happened the cops because of that."

"Geez.. I wonder how I never heard about it."

"Well.. it was a few years ago. Maybe you were just busy with something else at the time." Shrugged Ethan. "Petitions ended up getting signed though and they agreed to leave the statue alone."

"Oh.. well, that's good." I looked off to the side. "Do you know if they—ever like seriously hurt anyone—?"

"They didn't."

Rather quickly, Ethan cut me off.

He smiled. "No need to worry. People here aren't crazy. Not like they'd actually do anything."

Something about the way he said it felt like he didn't feel as if it was worth talking about. Or like he didn't exactly wanna talk about it even if he didn't know.

Figuring we could just drop the conversation here, I sighed. "'Well.. okay. I just.. wanted to make sure. Thanks for telling me."

..like Streber, he didn't wanna talk about it. Or at least didn't seem to. Then again, maybe I was just wrong about the whole thing and that guy was messing with me. Or even if there was a murder, it might have just been a past case.

Reluctantly, I let the topic slip from my mind. I needed to get back home without worrying anyway.

"Eh.. no problem. Always happy to help. I'll see you later, okay?"

"..yeah. Sure. See you later."

—–——

..there wasn't much for me to do when I got home. Laying in bed sounded nice, and I'd probably do that once I actually got back home. Or I'd just turn something on and listen to it as I rested on the couch or watch some show I liked. Or I'd order food. It.. didn't really matter anyway.

My thoughts swirled with different ideas of what I could do. I never had much energy to do anything nowadays. No matter how fun something sound, I'd always pass it down. Unless Streber or Ethan dragged me into it somehow.

I turned on the long narrow road. As I did though, I caught a glimpse of a lone road in the corner of my eye. Looking at it further, and realizing the familiarity of my surroundings. A bunch of trees. And a few small buildings beside the road itself. It was the same road me and Streber were on yesterday when we drove to that construction site.

..he was probably down there, wasn't he? Every ounce of my mind was screaming to just go back home. It felt like he'd probably need help though. He was smart, but I'm not sure if he could possibly dig up a small pair of plastic vampire teeth from a pile of garbage on his own.

I didn't want to go. I didn't. I wanted to lay back down on my bed and not move for the rest of the day even though I knew Ethan or Streber would call in just to make sure I didn't do that.

..but that was selfish of me, wasn't it? I couldn't just leave him on his own. With how selfish I could be sometimes, it was a wonder why he was even my friend.

My frown tightened as I sighed, and slowly let the car turn to a different side of the road so I could stop, and drive back to where I saw the road.

...

Hopefully, that guy from last time wouldn't be there. I'd need to kinda talk to Streber about what happened today anyway.

————

The air was warm, but less warm than yesterday as I finished walking on the stretch of land. I squinted my eyes as some of the sunlight bounced off of the metallic objects and sprayed into my eyes. I lifted a hand over my view, letting a warm breath of air seep into my mouth as I barely opened it.

There were piles containing dolls, furniture, kitchenware, cloths. Basically, all of the same stuff I saw from yesterday. It was like an ant colony or something. Or just like a bunch of ant hills.

The sky was still kinda bright, glowing down on me as I set my gaze down. In the distance, I saw a figure near a pile—with their hand placed beneath their chin in thought.

I blinked, and then raised my voice as loud as I could—placing my hand next to my mouth.

"Uh—Streber? Streber!"

Strebers head slightly lifted, and I saw his round eyes slowly come into view once he turned his head. Seeing him look my way, I nervously looked down, and bent down—so I could just slide off of the garbage rather than potentially hurt myself by jumping off of it.

As I sat on the land beneath me, I heard Streber call out from where he stood—now fully turned around with one hand slightly lifted. "Kevs? What are you doing here?"

"I ended up driving by." I explained—setting myself on the upper part of the hill, and feeling myself slide down. "I wanted to—agh—!"

Quicker than I thought, I fell firmly on my butt—feeling myself land on some other pile of hard garbage from beneath me.

"—I just.. wanted to help."

Setting my hands on the rocky ground, I tried to lift myself to my feet as Streber came skipping over different items like sticks or rubble just to come to where I was at.

Upon jumping over a long piece of metal, Streber finally made his way closer, and held out a hand as I struggled. "Uh—thanks! You know, you could have just told me if you were gonna come here."

I grumbled a bit—holding out my hand. I felt his metal, solid hand clasp over mine—pulling me to my feet.

As he did so, he tilted his head to the side.

"..you alright?"

"Yeah. It's not like I broke a bone or something."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. I'm fine. Anyway.. where—is the vampire teeth over by that pile you were just looking at?"

"Huh? Oh—yeah! It's a pretty tall pile though. I'm not sure how I'm even gonna get it out."

"Mmh.."

I caught a glimpse of it in the distance. Hell, it.. actually was pretty tall. So tall it was blocking the other piles from behind it. I couldn't even see any vampire teeth in there from how many absurd objects were piled up in there.

"Sheesh—" I remarked, "You sure you wanna dig it up? You might have to just use some of your spare ones."

"Mmh—I dunno.. I just don't wanna leave it here. I've had it for a pretty long time compared to the other ones."

"What do you mean?"

"Y'know, since I started doing Haunted House stuff.."

"..oh."

I paused, and then let out a sigh. "Well.. okay. I guess I'll help you get it out from there. It's just gonna be a nightmare to dig through.."

"Yeah.. don't worry. We can take breaks in between since it might be a bit before we get it out."

"..mmh.. I'd like that."

A bead of sweat trickled down my forehead. This was gonna be a long while. I was really starting to wish I'd just gone home. But I couldn't leave him here.

And.. honestly—I didn't wanna leave him here. I just didn't really see the point in doing anything.

[peaterookie]

The Ultimate Analysis of Manga Lupin (real)

RISES FROM THE GRAVE

Ok so I had intentions of tackling this post since it gave me the opportunity to talk about my babygurl, but i had a lot of school work to do so that wasn't great... BUT im a bit free now, and it's 3/3 so what a perfect time

The part about Lupin not wearing the jacket/tie in Chapter 8 (186 Lupins) intriguiged me a lot, because for the longest time I only figured that Monkey Punch drew him without the jacket simply because it looked cool and nothing else. It makes sense though that he would use it in this chapter figuratively for Lupin pretending to "hang up his hat" and retire from thieving.

^ Chapter 3 (I count it bc lupin is wear a completely different jacket without a tie) and second image is from Chapter 4

^ Chapter 5 and Chapter 7

I looked into his non-jacketness a bit more and found even stranger stuff. Lupin sports his nonjacket look very often from Chapter 3-8, but after that point, he stops doing it for a very very long time. I'm not sure what point does Lupin do it again, but I checked up the 100th chapter; no trace of a jacketless Lupin.

Which is strange isn't it? Why did Lupin (or MP for that matter) decided specifically after Chapter 8 to keep the jacket indefinitely?

My interpretation of this is perhaps, after Lupin faked his retirement in that chapter, he decides to no longer take off the jacket as a sign of his resolve to continue being a thief, to continue being Lupin III. The red jacket is a symbolism of his identity as Lupin III -the great thief that isn't bound by society- the most free man in the world.

MP most likely wanted to highlight Ch.8 as a point of significance, because if Lupin continued to be jacket-less after that point, the message communicated in Ch.8 wouldn't hold any weight. (The message being that Lupin wouldn't give up for a very very long time, and that the adventure of Shin Lupin has just started c:)

But obviously, that wholesome and optimistic energy doesn't stay for long, because this jacket motif comes back around the ending :)

Like Waddle said, jacketless Lupin comes back around the ending, although I'm not sure when since I haven't looked at the scans carefully yet. One detail I'd like to focus on though is around the San Francisco and the beginning of the Yap Land arc was around the point were he strays away from his typical outfit, whether it'd be a different jacket, a turtleneck, or jacketless.

To me it feels like a sign that he's starting to give up, or perhaps having a conflict of whether to continue living as a thief or not. Which, now that I realize it, is probably why he pursue such dangerous adventures around that part, because he wants to distract himself from the idea that he has to quit eventually.

Which brings me to the second point of Waddle's original post: Lupin's unwillingness to show his true identity!!!

This is going somewhere I swear

Lupin is obviously, a very suspicious man. He doesn't show his true self that much, and his true appearance is still a mystery even after the ending of the manga. When he does show glimpses of his personality though, it's significant in a way that he only shows it towards the gang or those he wants to cooperate with.

It shows that he trusts Jigen and Goemon a whole lot, and you can clearly see the progression from them simply being business partners to actual friends from the OG Manga -> New Adventures -> Shin. In the OG Manga, when interacting with the two, Lupin still has that smug aura, but that mask slowly slips out from the 7-year progression to Shin Lupin.

In fact, they're one of only people Lupin actually trusts. It takes a lot to really get Lupin to act honest, because it is VERY CLEAR that Lupin hates the possibility to ever confronting his true feelings with how often he tries to mask it by acting arrogant, silly, or just cruel. He even sees this quality as something that protects him, as shown in Chapter 56, where he states that being "suspicious" is the reason "...why I’ve(he's) been alive all this time." From this, it really emphasizes that he doesn't see Goemon and Jigen as those that could harm him, thus he sees no reason to put up the mask.

The mask is there to protect him from feeling hurt from others, but on the other hand, it also serves as an important tool that makes him such a great thief. By acting incompetent and goofy, he's able to catch people off guard when he busts out them smarts

What I'm saying is, at the end of the day, his act is still a part of him and something that allows him to live the way he wants to. Despite striping off some of his identity, he's willing to put that risk to be a thief and live out his definition of freedom, which is to go against society and do whatever he wants. (Which is interesting, because wouldn't limiting your expression of identity be the opposite of freedom? He has very interesting priorities.)

Which brings me up to my next point. Around the end of the Bad City arc (the last arc of the manga), I noticed (from visuals so take this with a grain of salt) how Lupin slowly stopped being serious and like his true self around the gang, which ties in very well with how he inconsistently changes jackets or takes it off around that period of the manga. Heck, he also interacts less with the gang overall around the last chapters, possibly hinting that he was trying to avoid them, which means avoiding his true feelings, WHICH consequently meaning avoiding the thoughts that just maybe, he has to give up.

The mask ends up becoming his shield, protecting him from such thoughts. He becomes even more reckless and obsessing with doing more fun adventures as a result, possibly faking it so hard that at the final chapter, it explains why he still wears a smile acting like everything's alright despite KNOWING him and his friends will die.

This to me, doesn't seem like a genuine smile at all.

Most of the visuals at the end doesn't communicate that Lupin has really grasped the situation- like he's in denial that this is the end.

Which makes sense, he was determined from Ch.8 that he will continue being a thief, and the real Lupin III would never give up on getting what he wants. He never confronts that his selfishness and ignorance lead the gang to become emotionally broken.

The mask that was fake from the beginning probably became the real thing to cope- by avoiding his true feelings for so long, his real self begins to slip away slowly, letting the fact act becoming the real thing instead.

All the signs were there, his jacket is gone, his gang became ever more distant from him, and HE LITERALLY KNOWS THE ISLAND WILL EXPLODE.

But he doesn't take any of the signs into account, he doesn't reflect back on what he's done, his life is not flashing before his eyes, it's almost like the Lupin that was serious, logical, and genuine was buried to the point of nonexistence, and if he snaps back to reality last minute, he might not be able to handle it.

So, was the pursuit of freedom really worth it?

I know I already talked about “186 Lupins” before cause of how funny it is but I was just thinking about these 2 pages.

Throughout Shin Lupin, Lupin always put up this persona of being arrogant to trick his enemies, and I thought how here his mood shifts instantly was interesting. He sure does a lot to hide his identity, but I like the glimpses we get of it when he gets serious. I don’t think he seems to hide it as much when he’s with his friends.

Also, isn’t it interesting how Lupin takes off his jacket specifically for this chapter? It’s like the idiom to hang up one’s hat, he’s showing he’s giving himself up, only to then put it back on in the end to show it was just a trick.

The only other time I can recall him ever not wearing his jacket was near the ending. With how the ending goes, I wouldn’t be surprised if it was hinting that Lupin had already been wanting to give up.