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tulipsforyourlips · 7 months ago

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✧˖°. i found you ✧˖°. (6)

|| the sandman x dead boy detectives ||

SUMMARY: You run the dead boys detective agency along with your two best friends. And somehow two ghosts and a living girl make it work. Until you dream one night, of dream himself.

PAIRING: dream of the endless x fem!reader

WC: 4K

WARNINGS: slight angst

A/N: okay brace yourselves ladies it's a long chapter. and slow paced too but i genuinely loved writing this chapter and showing intimate conversations between dream and her. its a slow burn after all the chemistry has to be right.

PART 6 ✧˖°.

"Morning lads," you greeted the pair sorting through the daily mail.

"Mornin- woah what happened?" Charles' eyes motioned to your hand.

What? How were your injuries from your dreams transferring into real life? Well, technically that happened outside your dream. Whatever, you had no energy to mull over the technicalities of the realm differences, that was better left to the Endless.

"Eh nothing. Just slightly cut my hand open on the bed railing."

"How did that even- you know what nevermind."

"How's Jesse doing?" You changed the subject.

The boys had been monitoring her full night.

"The demon did peek through but for like half a second. Too brief for us to use our incantations and extract him out," Charles answered. "Poor kid. Must be suffering."

You gulped down some water and nodded.

"So? I was in-"

"Hell for seventy years." Charles and you finished his sentence.

"Oi turn up the volume a bit," you said as the television screen displayed some news in the background.

"As you can see around us ladies and gentlemen, the sleepy sickness has indeed made a comeback. We have Shiara's parents with us right now who has been diagnosed with the same, just one victim out of the thousands being affected," the lady reported from a hospital.

Shit shit shit. This was bad.

"Will the number soon soar to millions like it did around a century back?" The reporter continued.

You had obviously read about it. And Morpheus himself had told you how his imprisonment had befallen this plague on the waking world.

"That's..intense," Edwin said.

You never heard Charles' reply because your brain was busy trying to comprehend what you had just heard. You needed to see Dream. In response to your plea, Matthew pecked against the window.

"I will be right back," you told the guys. "Need some fresh air." You grabbed your coat and hurried out.

Dream was waiting for you in the alley behind the building.

"The sleepy sickness is back," you said as you approached him.

"I know."

"But-I-," you stuttered, "I don't understand. I thought things were supposed to move in the healing direction after last night. Atleast not worsen."

"You are coming to the Dreaming with me."

"Right now?"

In answer, Morpheus fetched his sand pouch from his cloak. You knew he could easily transport you through his cloak disappearing trick. But he seemed determined to avoid any direct contact between you two. Except when he had bandaged your hand. Ugh not the time to be a hopeless romantic. Sand enveloped you in a tornado and took you to the Dreaming. Your heart shuddered when you took in the scene awaiting you. Ruins littered the ground everywhere which in turn bore fresh cracks. You revolved your head around, assessing the damage. You took a step back, bad idea. Your feet connected with nothing and you fell, would have if not for the sturdy arm wrapped around you. Something in your guts uncoiled, partially from the apparent death, and partially from the proximity of him. This close you could see the crystal blue of his sapphires for eyes. Loose rocks fell into the crevice, showing you your alternate fate. He uprighted you on secure ground before withdrawing his hand from your waist. That was the third time he had contacted you, willingly or not. Were you keeping track? For fuck's sake you almost fell to your death and that's the part you want to fixate upon?

Shoving your flustered state deep down, you asked, "How did this happen?"

"Honestly, I dont know," Dream spoke, "What I know is we need to take another approach, a more direct and dangerous one. It is our only shot at saving humanity." He looked down at you, his eyes imploring you to trust him and validate his decision.

Had he so little faith in you? "When do we start?"

"Tonight."

You were flopped on the couch alongside Jesse watching some lame ass family movie. The boys were on some haunted house case according to the note scribbled in Charles' ugly handwriting. On the screen, a daughter hugged her mom and you tasted a palette of emotions- jealousy for being denied what others had for granted, lonely for having no one to call your own, frustration for not remembering anything. Even though you had accepted the erasure of your past, you couldn't help but grieve who you were. Who were you? Someone who mattered so little that her family and friends didn't even bother looking for her? Didn't deem her worthy of putting themselves through the trouble.

The door busted open and Charles stormed through.

"Where's Edwin?"

"Fuck knows." Was all he said before shutting himself in his room.

Okay something was seriously wrong. The door creaked on its hinges as you opened it.

"Charles?"

He was sat on his bed, whimpering softly.

"Hey? What happened?" You asked in a whisper and sat down beside him.

He shook his head. You gave him time to gather his thoughts. "He just doesn't understand."

"Edwin?"

Charles sniffed, wiping his tears away. He took a deep breath and started, "There was this family. The husband murdered the wife and children."

You inhaled a bountiful. You were aware of his traumatizing past starring his abusive dad. That fucker. The first time he had told you about him, a rage you had never been familiar with before had tightened around your veins. If that sick brute hadn't already had departed the waking world, you would have hunted him down and done that.

"I am so sorry." You intertwined your fingers in his.

"I tried to intervene but apparently had some strong emotional response to it and got sucked into the situation itself. I am aces now-"

"Clearly."

He continued on, "but that didn't stop Edwin from yelling at me for getting involved in the first place." He sucked a breath. "I couldn't help it Hazel, I just couldn't. When I saw his ghost murder-" he choked on his words. New tears escaped his eyes and burned at the back of yours.

You cupped his face in your hands and swiped your thumbs across his cheekbones, dampening his tears. "Look at me Charles."

He reluctantly met your gaze. "I am so sorry you had to go through that. I can't even begin to grasp what that might have felt like. That's simply fucked up. But you have to know, if there is one person who understands you, it is Edwin. He cares for you more than any other person or ghost on this Earth. The only reason he yelled at you was because he was scared Charles." You didn't release your hold on his face. "Of losing you."

Charles' eyes softened.

"He loves you. We both do."

"I know." A hint of a smile graced his lips.

You kept tossing and turning in your bed. Charles' tearstained face kept flashing in your mind. You had found Edwin at the bottom of the stairs, equally devastated at his outlash. He had explained to you what you already knew, that he was worried for Charles, of losing him. Oh these boys were going to be the death of you, provided you survived long enough.

"You are late," Dream declared when you appeared in his realm.

"Sorry, trouble at home."

"Nothing serious," you added to erase the crease in his brows.

"I want to show you something."

"Lead the way your Highness!"

You followed him to Holy shit. You'd thought you'd toured through every phenomenon in the Dreaming, been fascinated by every miracle it had to offer. You were proved wrong as you titled your head backwards to witness the dazzling fabric of sky warping around you. When you propelled it downwards the same enchanting sight glimmered. The water was coated in the sheen of the starry night. An admiration blossomed deep in your core for the Endless standing at your side, the creator of the spectacles you had witnessed in the realm, the cause behind all your fascination. These docks just being one example, perhaps your favourite yet. After your very own dream of course.

"And this, mortal, is where the magic happens."

He extended his arms and the sea waters responded to their master's call. It roared to life from its dormant state and danced to the tunes of the Endless' hands. Spiral of waves loomed from the sea, stray droplets settling on your skin as you watched the Dream lord at work. Globes of water bounced on the ocean's surface. An assortment of objects and beings went about in their respective bubbles. In one such bubble, through its foggy exterior you recognised a dream you had gotten to trust mere days ago. And then it dawned on you, you were watching people's dreams. You were staring at the collective unconscious of the living world. There was no horizon visible as far as sight took you, the sea and the sky effortlessly blended into one entity. You were in infinity itself. Where you stood was sacred ground. And Morpheus had brought you here, to a special rendition of his soul. He trusted you. No, he had no other option but to, with the waking world now in turmoil too. Unknown to your captivated self, Dream was taking in each and every shift in your expression.

He came up just beside you. "Dip your hand in it."

You peered through the mist swathing the globules of dreams floating in front of you. Seeing your apprehension, he went first. His skin immersed the film and once he was halfway through, he rotated his head back. An invitation.

"You will be fine," he said.

"You promise?"

A thousand emotions collided in his eyes all in a fraction of a second. "I promise." And he disappeared into the globule. You followed suit and landed on your butts on solid ground. The Endless at your side who was standing on both his feet having failed to make a clown of himself unlike you, paid no heed to your graceful landing. You were on your feet in a quick motion. Butterflies fluttered their wings around you and you extended your arms for them to rest upon. A giggle left you as one plopped itself on your nose.

"What is this place?" You couldn't keep the wonder out of your voice.

"This is Fiddler's green. One of my proudest creations, I confess."

"I don't blame you." Your eyes raked past the waterfall and the pure greenery of the place.

A boy, just a child, hopped a few feet away from you.

"Why are we here?" You asked finally.

"To try our new approach."

"Dream you really have to start being elaborate."

"We need him to wake up. He has been here for a while."

"Wouldn't really hold it against him. Have you looked at this place?"

Dream looked at you. Of course he had. What kind of stupid rhetorical question was that to ask the person who had made the effing place.

"I mean it's beautiful."

He brushed past your compliment and said, "Hazel he has the sleepy sickness."

"Oh. But how am I supposed to get him to wake up?"

Nightmares weren't the only ones running wild. Dreams even as pleasant as the one you were currently in, were drifting from their original purpose to serve humankind. They used their beauty and kindness as an added advantage to lure humans into staying in a fragment of their mind forever. You'd known humans' resolve was fickle, being one of them. And provided with an opportunity to escape, no one would ever turn it down. Even the strongest wills would shatter with the passage of time. And that was why you listened intently to what Morpheus had to say.

"Invoke trust in the Fiddler's green as you did with others. Without hope, their sense of their purpose is growing corrupt. They are feeding on humanity's innate desire to run away from reality. Your trust has to fill in the void left by the absence of hope."

"What if I can't?"

"You don't have a choice."

"Dream but I- what if I am not the person for this? This was Hope's job. It was never meant to be mine."

"Will you tell his parents that they can stop visiting his bed every second of the day, quell their prayers, and say goodbye to their son because you were afraid to try?"

Brutal. But the impact was necessary. "No."

"Then the fate of the world is in your hands mortal."

No pressure then.

"Oi where are you going?" You asked Dream's retreating figure.

"This is your fight Hazel. I will see you when he wakes up."

"If you think you can just leave me here- " He definitely thought so because you were standing alone on the grassy landscape, except the jovial boy chasing butterflies.

You looked at him, airy giggles erupted from his throat. You sat down, feeling the grass beneath your palms. And closed your eyes until the beating of your heart was all you were aware of.

The dream collapsed as back in the waking world, the boy began to stir, accompanied by exuberant cries of his parents. You found yourself back on the docks, completely drenched. Beads of water dripped down from the hair sticking to your face.

"You look pathetic."

You swirled around to face the Endless who had spoken those words.

"A thankyou, you did remarkably well. Yoo hoo you are saving the world and I am indebted to you. And I apologise from the bottom of my heart which I am not even sure if I possess one, for abandoning you back there, would be nice but you know whatever," you rambled. "Wouldn't want to disrupt this whole emo vibe you have going on," you vaguely gestured to his hair and robes.

Your sour mood immediately dissolved as a smile graced his lips, his perfect cherry lips, you didn't deny it this time. An actual smile, fleeting but it was there. As real as the wind blowing through his hair, bestowing an air of ethereality upon him. A god, an Endless, who had just smiled at you.

"It's time for you to wake up mortal. The sun has already risen in your land. We have a lengthy path to walk, Fiddler's green was just one on it."

"Has anyone ever told you that you're one massive buzzkill?"

You didn't think so with the authority he owned and his general 'you dare say anything to me?' demeanour but the reminiscent twinkle in his eye made you doubt otherwise.

"Goodnight Hazel."

You were lying in your bed since you had woken up, which was seconds or minutes ago, brooding over stuff, enjoying the quiet laziness before one of the guys would barge into your room and drag you out of bed. They were late today. The faint ticking of the clock was the only sound in the room when a sudden scream interrupted the monotonous ticking followed by a loud thud. You dashed through your room to the living room where an unconscious Jesse was slumped on the carpet. Charles and Edwin were both lying on the floor next to a book on incantation and Charles' pandora's box, as you liked to call his bag of tricks.

"Oh you are alive," Charles addresses you.

"What the fuck happened?"

"The demon happened," Edwin exhaled in a breath.

"Don't worry we had it contained, like forever." Charles jiggled an opaque jar in his hands. "No thanks to you," he quipped.

"I-" You were dumbfounded. "You could have woken me up."

"Oh we tried mate, but you were sleeping 'like a log' won't do it justice. We thought you were dead for a moment."

"Or worse, that you had the sleepy sickness. But before we could assess that for certain, Charles had to pee and then Jesse got possessed so we kind of had our hands full."

It was because I was in someone else's dream you gits. But it isn't like you could explain that to them. And you did have a history of sleeping like someone who had just been introduced to the concept, so you let it pass.

"But we are obviously super relieved to see you fit and aces."

"I can see that. Charles you chose pee over me!" You cried.

"Mate it was nothing personal. It was really urgent."

Okay that was the last straw. Your hands were around his neck in a second, your knees pinning him down as he tried to wiggle free from your grasp.

"Careful with the jar, you two." Edwin said flatly, unconcerned if you would strangle the ghost.

What would happen if you did? Could ghosts die again? A part of you wanted to find out badly, but a sympathetic loser part of you took pity on his reddening face and let go. You fell down on the space next to him, both of you heaving air into your lungs.

"I hate you," Charles huffed, his earring still dangling from the aftermath of your force.

You patted his shoulder. "Don't fret it son. I hate you more."

You were headed back to the agency with arms full from your grocery trip. A yapping Charles trailed on in front of you. Jesse had moved out, to your ghost friend's dismal and ranting about it was his way of dealing with it, unfortunately.

"And she said Edwin-that Edwin had a better fashion sense than me! Can you believe it?"

"I can."

He stopped and you took the lead. "What?" He blinked.

"Come on Charles you can't be serious. His taste is impeccable. I would have stolen his wardrobe a long time ago if he wasn't a ghost."

Passers by gave you judgmental glances, but you were used to it.

He caught up to you. "Hazel, this." He gestured to his baggy jacket. "And this." He flicked his earring.

"Yes even after this and this."

"I can't believe girls sometimes, scratch that, all the times." He fastened his pace, muttering to himself.

You brought your wrist to your hand to see the time when you got knocked off balance as someone bumped against you. Your groceries spilled out of the paper bag onto the road.

"Oh I am so sorry," a stranger's voice apologised.

You both were on your knees, gathering your escaped items.

"No it's okay my fault. I wasn't lookin-" You looked up and golden eyes met you. Wow. That was one rare iris.

"Oh shush now darling. Mistakes happen," they cooed.

You both scrambled to your feet as they handed you your bag. "Thankyou."

"You're welcome Hazel."

"How do you know my name?"

"Oh I overheard you and the boy talking," they said with an unnerving smile.

They could see him? Well quite a many people could, guaranteed that they'd had a similar bump in with death, not the Endless. You watched Charles distant profile walk on far ahead still seemingly mumbling to himself. You turned your head back to ask them if they had been in a near death incident, but they were already gone. Weird.

"Haz are you coming?" Charles shouted, realising you weren't with him.

You forsake the encounter with the golden eyed person and made your way towards your impatient friend.

Cool water lapped around your ankles where you had dipped your feet in them. The past week you'd fallen into a routine, a tedious and rewarding one, as you helped more and more people get rid of their eternal sleep. You had learned to manoeuvre the waters on your own, invading people's dreams while Dream devoted his time in mending his realm. Some days he'd join you after your daily targets and you'd both sit together, relishing each other's company. Today was one such day.

"When do we begin with the nightmares?" You had only focused on the sweet dreams till yet. Dream was insistent on it, forbidding you from trespassing through any others.

"Not yet," he said.

"Don't you ever get tired?" You asked after some time.

"Of what Hazel?"

"Of being immortal."

He raised his eyebrows at you, "Would you?"

"Fuck no!" You bit your lip. "Sorry. I mean knowing your time is always running out, does generate a new appreciation for life. But that life seems to be gone in a blink of an eye. Too brief, to leave a mark, to have your existence mean something. Time becomes the most precious and most despised instrument at play," you spoke. "But being immortal, it's-it's something else. Imagine the wonders you could witness, could be a part of. An eternity of just living, carrying the past of the world with you into the future. I like having a particular destination to swim to, but I would rather be lost in the infinite ocean, you know?"

Dream listened to your words intently. "I have a friend back in the waking world. Hob Gadling."

"I didn't strike you as that."

"As what?"

"As someone having friends. But go on."

"We met in the fourteenth century. Death and I visited this pub together and there he was, proclaiming humans could cheat death."

"What did you do?"

"Death granted him his wish."

"What?" What? "So does that mean he is still alive?"

"Yes. In fact we meet up every century."

"Hold up hold up. The devil meeting with an immortal man in the pub, that has nothing to do with this right?"

Dream's lips twitched imperceptibly.

"Will you ever cease surprising me?"

Quiet ensued you both.

"So this Hob Gadling, does he enjoy his immortality?"

"To my initial surprise, yes. I had thought after a hundred years, he would surely be begging me to take the curse back but he seemed to consider it a boon. Even after centuries had gone by, his zest to live never died, hasn't died. He reminds me of you. Or, you remind me of him."

"Oh careful Dream lord, are you implying I am your friend?" You nudged his shoulder lightly.

"Now let's not get too ahead of ourselves."

You let out a half suppressed laugh.

"Perhaps," he said.

You titled your head towards him, "Eh. I don't think I'm ready to promote you from acquaintance just yet."

"Is that how it is?"

"Absolutely."

A shooting star dived through the sky, cutting a blaze of fire through it.

"What do you wish for Dream?"

He glanced at you.

"Come on. It appears every day without fail, in the abode of your creations. You made it. What do you wish for everyday?"

He was silent.

"And here I thought we were friends."

"I created it in memory of Hope."

That was the first time he had willingly mentioned her.

"Do you miss her?"

He took his time to answer. "Sometimes."

You drew your feet out of the water and hugged your knees. "Well. Tragedy does birth-"

"The most beautiful things."

You looked at him to find his eyes already on you, a quiet yearning displayed in them.

"Ok mind reader," you scoffed.

"I do not posses those powers, unfortunately."

"Oh a creep then?"

When you looked at him again, his lips imitated the crescent moon in the sky on his perfect face. It wasn't like any of the fleeting twitches, no matter how treasured, he had given you before. The smile reached his cheeks. His teeth glittered under the moonlight, his skin washed in it. A weak crinkle formed at the end of his eyes. Your heart lurched in its rib cage, wanting to join another. No. You won't fall for him. You won't fall for an Endless. You won't fall for the pompous goth guy. You won't fall for him. You weren't falling for him. You weren't falling for him. You weren't falling for him. You were not falling for him. Shit. You were falling for him.

SERIES MASTERLIST

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chuuyrr · 2 years ago

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bsd characters receive love letters from scarlet witch! baby fushiguro! reader — a valentine's day special

jujutsu kaisen x reader x bungo stray dogs

masterlist of the series

╰➤ CW(s): possible spoilers for bungou stray dogs and jujutsu kaisen, fluff/comfort content

╰➤ PAIRING(s): platonic! bungo stray dogs & jujutsu kaisen x child! reader

╰➤ SYNOPSIS: in which our beloved bungo stray dogs characters, especially dazai osamu, receive valentine's day love letters and discover that they came from you, the dimensional traveling scarlet witch who happens to come from a world of curses and sorcerers they knew and loved like a little sister or niece. click to view the full request here !

there wasn't much work in the armed detective agency office, but dazai, being dazai, was exaggerating how it was february 14—a day of love and romance while also throwing in some comments about having someone to commit double suicide with, much to atsushi's dismay.

being the armed detective agency, they just weren't ones for holidays. duties calls given their line of work. it just so happened that today was miraculously not loaded with investigations and such.

while everyone else was just getting through the day, kunikida had returned from his own work, much to everyone's and dazai's surprise, carrying a large bag in one hand and a smaller bag in the other. it was quite amusing to see the young blonde man was struggling.

"woah, what'chu got there kunikida-kun?" ranpo inquired, poking at the large bag on the floor next to the blonde man.

"t-they're.. letters.." kunikida managed to say as he gasped for air with hands on his knees.

"letters? you mean work for us to do?!" exclaimed atsushi, whose mortified expression was mirrored by tanizaki.

"huh? no!" kunikida exclaimed, furrowing his brows, "they are love letters to dazai!"

everyone in the armed detective agency froze and practically screamed, "WHAT?!"

dazai's eyes lit up as he clasped his hands together, watching kunikida practically shove the massive bag of love letters towards him, "they're all for me? really?!"

"ugh, even until now, i still have the charms to lure ladies and gents!~" dazai exclaimed as he leaned back dramatically.

"that's an unusually large number of love letters," yosano's sweat dropped as she watched dazai open the bag to reveal more of the letters that were peeking out.

dazai chose the first envelope in the bag that had a "read me first!" note attached to it, and just by looking at it, he noticed that the handwriting was quite messy, which was appropriate for a child's handwriting.

he opened it right away and found his eyes widening in surprise, which somewhat alarmed everyone.

"what is it, dazai-san?" atsushi furrowed his brows in concern.

"it's from [name]-chan!" dazai exclaimed, his face bright and happy, waving the letter in the air as if he had won a million dollars.

"letters from [name]-chan?" kenji commented with a closed-eye smile, "aww, how sweet!"

"h-how?! [name]-chan wrote all of that?!" atsushi was in complete disbelief.

"happy valentine's day dazai-nii! sorry for not being able to go there to greet you and everyone myself," dazai read out the letter with a smile, everyone smiling in awe, "i've got you everyone letters though! the big bag is all yours dazai-nii, while the small bag contains everyone else's. all of the letters are written with love!"

"wow.. talk about favorites.." tanizaki chuckled softly and held the nape of his back as kunikida opened the smaller bag he was holding to reveal ten envelopes, each sealed with a barbie, baby shark, or pokemon sticker.

"of course, dazai-san would get more letters..." atsushi commented and patted tanizaki's shoulder as kunikida handed out letters to him, tanizaki, kyouka, kenji, yosano, ranpo, fukuzawa, naomi, and kirako.

"what else does the first letter say, dazai?" ranpo inquired, peering over dazai's shoulder with the others.

"[name]-chan said that the reason she couldn't come here was because her father had given her a temporary ban," dazai explained, his sweat and tone of voice dropping at his next words, "apparently [name]-chan had accidentally teleported to a world of human eating giants."

"is she okay?" kyouka clenched her fists, clearly worried about you, her little sister figure.

"[name]-chan is safe," dazai reassured the young girl as he read the letter, "her father just made her promise not to use her wiggly-woos magic for a little while, so she just sent us love letters instead."

"that's a good to hear, dazai," fukuzawa sighed in relief and placed a closed hand on his chest.

you expressed your heartfelt gratitude to dazai for looking after and loving you in the same way your adoptive father, gojo satoru, would, and as a result, you've always felt at ease with him and the rest of the armed detective agency. as dazai read your special valentine's day message for him, he couldn't help but giggle in delight.

dazai opened another envelope from the large bag meant for him and read its contents to the others, "hi dazai-nii! i'm at school today again but daddy's training gumi-nii, yuuji-nii, and nobara-nee today so i'm watching from the sides. i just saw gumi-nii faceplant and i can't stop laughing about it! it was really funny!"

"gumi-nii?" naomi cocked her head at the mention of an unfamiliar name.

"oh, that's [name]-chan's actual older brother," dazai explained, remembering you telling him everything about your family. "his name is megumi, but [name]-chan likes to call him gumi for short. yuuji and nobara, on the other hand, are megumi's classmates whom she sees as older brother and sister."

"oh! i didn't know [name]-chan had an actual older brother," atsushi commented, blinking.

dazai picked up another letter and read it, laughing, "hi dazai-nii! something funny happened today! i accidentally made yuuji-nii butt naked in front of the higher-ups with my wiggly-woos. i got in trouble though, but it's not too bad. daddy didn't give me kikufuku as usual for dessert after dinner as my punishment."

"she what?!" atsushi screamed as yosano, ranpo, and the others laughed and snickered.

"sometimes i forget just how powerful and funny [name]'s abilities can be," yosano continued to giggle at the story.

"but that is quite unfortunate however.." fukuzawa's cleared his throat, his sweat dropping at the mere thought of it.

dazai kept opening more of the letters you'd given him and reading them to the rest of the armed detective agency.

the next one after the wiggly-woos magic error was you telling him about the mama duck and her baby chicks you saw while strolling through the forest part of the school, or more accurately, running away from the sight of gojo satoru and his students because you did mention that everyone was frantically looking for you while you were simply watching the ducks. you even drew those ducks on your letter, or at least attempted to. it was completely unrecognizable, but you tried, okay?

"are you sure those are ducks?" kunikida squinted his eyes and adjusted his glasses, his sweat dropping.

"hey, now! don't shame [name]-chan's art! they're ducks if you look closely, kunikida-kun!" dazai elbowed the young blonde man before turning to kyouka, "it's a very good drawing, right kyouka-chan?"

"mhm," kyouka gave dazai a thumbs-up as she hummed in agreement.

"ah, kids," kunikida sighed, stifling a soft chuckle as he shook his head.

the following letters followed suit. you told dazai about the cartoon shows you watched, the food you ate, and the toys and clothes you received from your father and family members.

in fact, you told him everything that happened in your life, including you tripping and using your magic to help people in secret, and as dazai opened and read through them all, he soon realized that the reason you had sent him so many letters was because you'd been writing for him since the beginning of february, and it was exactly as you quoted,

"it's not everyday that i get to be in your universe to know yours, so i want you to get to know what being in mine is like," was what you wrote in the last letter that was in the bottom of the bag, "i've read your mind once dazai-nii, and well, i figured it would be a good try if i were to show you what living is like through my eyes. to get you to know what life is like for me here."

the next words at the bottom of the letter softened dazai's eyes, which were accompanied by hearts and a doodle of you and him together.

"it's the little things that makes life worth living, and i hope you know that me learning i can travel and going to your universe, meeting you and everyone there, and the rest of your other selves makes life worth living because i got to meet a family i never thought i'd have. it makes me feel like i'm never alone and that it is fate that made it happen. oh, and dazai-nii? i love you in every universe. happy valentine's day!"

dazai would be lying if he said he wasn't emotional. as expressive and comical as he was, it was unusual for him to be emotional, just as it was rare for him to be caught off guard.

nonetheless, dazai leaned back further in his seat, closing his eyes as he smiled and took in your final message in the last letter, and softly whispered, "happy valentine's day, [name]-chan. i love you too in every universe."

it wasn't just dazai who was overcome with emotion. the rest of the armed detective agency was, too, as they opened the love letters they received from you next.

as you thanked fukuzawa for looking after you, he was soft with how you see him as an uncle or grandpa figure. you even drew cats on his letter and told fukuzawa about the cats you saw in the park when you returned to your world. he did, however, started sweating with worry when you told him you would summon an army of cats if he so desired because you love him that much!

yosano thought it was very sweet that you saw her as a very cool auntie figure with whom you enjoyed hanging out and talking about girl-stuff. you also thanked her for tending to your minor injuries while visiting and playing in their universe, and you expressed your love with doodles of butterflies because they remind you of her.

ranpo, like dazai, was smiling the entire time he read your praises for him being the best uncle detective you ever had and how much you enjoyed solving mysteries with him. you even sent ranpo some of your favorite candy and chocolate with the letter he received from you.

the tanizaki siblings were in awe by your valentine's day letter. naomi and junichiro were both happy to read your appreciation for them caring for and loving you as if you were their little sister.

kyouka became shy when she discovered your letter for her littered with doodles of bunnies and hydrangeas. even if it was barely recognizable, she still loved it because you remembered her, and most importantly, she's extremely glad you see her as an older sister figure whom you admire and look up to. kyouka became timid of your compliments about her beauty and coolness too, however.

kenji thought it was very sweet of you to look up to him as an older brother figure you admired. you drew a bunch of farm animals like cows and chickens on his letter, similar to kyouka's letter, even if it was barely recognizable due to your exceptional drawing abilities as a child.

kunikida was flustered, caught off guard by your sweet words of love and gratitude for him, but he was extremely proud of being the uncle figure you could look up to and rely on.

atsushi was beaming brightly as he read your valentine's day letter to him. you thanked atsushi and expressed your love for him by drawing a tiger and many hearts on his letter. he reminded you of your yuuji-nii, so you told him how grateful you were to have a yuuji-nii in this world, and not than just a gumi-nii :)

last but not least, kirako was surprised that you gave her a valentine's day letter despite not being as close to you as the others and was merely a clerk there, but she was extremely grateful that you acknowledged her presence and her caring for you alongside naomi.

the armed detective agency fell in love with your personal letters for them and couldn't help but wish you were here with them so they could personally thank you and tell you how much they love you, their little sharpest detective.

however, it wasn't just the armed detective agency that got love letters.

the port mafia was no exception.

"uwaaah! a love letter from [name]-chan, my best friend!" exclaimed an ecstatic elise as she admired the pink envelope chuuya handed her.

as amusing as it was, the port mafia truly believed they were receiving death threats from an organization when a bag of letters was mailed. they were shocked to learn that you had sent them love letters—as if they weren't already criminals. goodness, you truly were an angel sent from above.

"i've got a letter from [name]-chan, too?" koyou cupped her mouth with her kimono sleeve as chuuya handed her an envelope, blushing.

"apparently so, ane-san," said chuuya, shrugging his shoulders and casting a glance at the siblings under the black lizard who was in the office with them, "chibi also wrote letters to tachihara, hirotsu, gin, and akutagawa, even higuchi was no exception."

"my, my, isn't that sweet of her?" koyou's eyes softened and she smiled as she opened the envelope and read your letter towards to reveal your valentine's day message for her, which was you thanking her for looking after you when chuuya was busy—for being an older sister or mama-figure you could look up to and love.

as they read your letter, the akutagawa siblings remained silent, not daring to say anything. gin was blushing behind her mask. she clearly wasn't expecting your kind and sweet words. in contrast, akutagawa ryunosuke was more surprised than impressed by the revelation that he resembles your actual older brother, fushiguro megumi.

"whaaat? all of you received letters from [name]-chan?" mori inquired in a dramatic tone as looked at his subordinates, "i don't have one!"

"serves you right, rintaro!" elise laughed as she pointed at mori mockingly.

chuuya shrugged off the port mafia boss and turned your letter towards him, and it wasn't long before he began to smile in awe. you wrote him a poem, or rather tried to because some words didn't exactly rhyme, but it was very sweet—how much you looked up to him and loved him as your chuuya-nii! what really made chuuya happy was when you declared him your favorite over dazai. chuuya was going to blackmail that idiot vagabond with this.

"happy valentine's day, chibi," chuuya murmured to himself, his blue eyes softening and adoring the doodle you made of him and you, "heh, i'll make sure to give you a small bouquet of your favorite flowers and chocolates when you get here as my thanks."

[ author's notes ! happy belated valentine's day everyone. hope you enjoyed reading this, i had fun writing it even though it took me a while due to my hectic schedule lol. PLEASE i literally have midterm exams tomorrow and had to insert this fic in my schedule since it's no longer february 14 and i have to get it published soon. thank you for requesting dear anon, i hope you didn't mind me bullying mori here 😆]

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violetmuses · 5 months ago

Text

Flashbacks - A. Aretas 🔥

Title: Flashbacks - A. Aretas 🔥

Fandom: “Bad Boys” Film Universe

Character: Armando Aretas

Pairing: Armando Aretas + Female Reader

Main Storyline: Seeing you again could drive Armando over the edge.

Author's Note: Here's another request! Enjoy. 🖤 @thedarkworldofhananerea

=====

2024

Damn!

When Armando Aretas crossed paths for the very first time, your own presence nearly slipped his cool during another plot for his mother Isabel.

That night, he snuck over to you and exchanged his phone number, yearning through dreams as you swayed past others with a gorgeous smile.

After leaving the club, you text Armando back and take one chance with that handsome stranger.

Now, years later, Armando drifts memories while grounded in this cage cell and missing you like crazy.

Back then, you understood his late nights and nursed each wound, ironically convinced that he worked for one of the law enforcement agencies.

His current prison sentence broke your heart this time and landed crimes regardless. Armando even lost his mother through burning flames.

Detective Mike Lowrey, Armando's biological father, enters this darkened space.

How you doing?“ Mike crossed both arms while facing his son.

“It's a prison.” Armando grumbled without really making eye contact.

“I know.” Mike agreed with this point for obvious reasons. “I have an opportunity to cut down your time here. Are you interested?”

“Yeah, man.” Armando nodded, ready to leave as soon as possible.

______

“Let me get you some clothes. Can't look dingy out here, remember?” This transfer took loads of work, but Mike pulled strings and Armando could join the Miami Police Department with the AMMO team.

“It's a thrift store.” Armando nearly chuckled while glancing out the passenger seat window.

“Jailbird fool.” Mike put on sunglasses. “I'm shopping alone because your orange uniform doesn't help anybody feel better.”

When Mike slammed the door, Armando realized this perfect moment.

Lowrey somehow dropped his personal phone in the car.

Dumbass!

Glancing around for privacy beforehand, Armando picked up the device and immediately dialed your number.

But once Aretas heard three rings, your voicemail echoed instead:

“Hi! It's me. I can't answer the phone right now, but leave a message and I'll get back to you as soon as I can. Take care!” Your sweet voice nearly prompted tears when Armando listened.

My lady. He thought, still desperately in love with you. I'm home.

Just when Armando could surprise you with a message, Mike returned to the car holding several bags.

Hanging up Mike's phone, Aretas placed the device near one open spot and quietly laughed to himself once more.

“Make your choices later. We gotta go.” Mike placed everything in the backseat and set to drive off, but finally acknowledged his phone. “Oh, damn, who called me?”

“Okay.” Armando then nodded toward Lowrey once more.

Soon fighting this smirk though, Aretas remained silent and waited for the next possible move.

“Must be Spam. I don't even recognize this number.” Shrugging, Mike deleted that call and simply headed to the Miami Police Department.

Though saddened, Armando refused to show disappointment.

_____

Wearing this somewhat decent Bud Light shirt, Armando chose one trucker hat that veiled his face. Jeans covered both legs and boots stepped along.

“Me veo tan estúpido.” Aretas casted both eyes toward the ceiling and grumbled Spanish, feeling stupid anyway.

Even you would've laughed out loud while Armando checked his reflection in one public bathroom mirror.

Sighing, he washed his hands and left, ready for the assignment.

______

Tragedy struck. Following Captain Howard's death, intelligence whispered that Conrad muddled darkness with the cartel for years.

Shocked beyond words, Mike and his longtime partner Marcus Burnett stood tall against those unexpected rumors.

In short, the team wanted to prove Cap’s innocence right away.

“We're clubbing to gather info tonight. Don't act up.” Lowrey turned near Armando while driving and offered this warning.

“Pointless advice, Mike.” Marcus chimed in for a second. “Your son is a stone cold killer that rotted in prison for years. Probably touch-starved with his nasty ass.”

Knowing so much better than to respond, Aretas just sat there and thought of you.

_____

Tabitha stood as a character this evening. Skilled but wild, this woman styled cropped blonde hair while cash almost popped right out her own bra.

During this spoken plan to trade items for the mission, one upcoming silhouette caught Armando's eye.

“Another round ladies?” You smiled toward another group of Miami's finest and nearly everyone stepped out like Tabitha here.

Though Armando locked down eye contact, you glanced up, but quietly greeted Mike and Marcus first, not recognizing Aretas in person yet.

When you finally noticed him, Armando jutted his chin and moved away from the propped seat, walking in your direction.

“Can I help you?” You speak up while facing Armando and grinned toward this man.

“Hola, mi amor.” Aretas stepped closer and took off his trucker hat, revealing dark hair.

“Armando?” As the realization hits, you pull your best friend away from this VIP section.

Mike and Marcus yelled in the background, but Aretas couldn't care less.

_____

Shadowed through hallway lights of the nightclub, you can't help kissing him over and over again.

“How did you do it?” You ask, trying to have this conversation.

I'll explain later.” Armando licks your neck and his clothes nearly heated up as you whimper. He's yearned beyond words. “Te extrañé mucho.”

Just as Armando would make love to you in one of the private rooms, voices shouted through interruptions.

“Uh-uh! Not the time.” Mike yelled down this corridor. “Let's go.”

Gaining one last kiss, you walk away sporting this unfastened blouse.

_____

“Can't get your mack on!” Ranting over Armando meeting with you, Mike headed elsewhere for AMMO. “What the hell?”

“She's my girlfriend.” Armando responded from the backseat.

“Girlfriend?!” Mike pulled the car over and yelled with Marcus in unison.

“Yeah. She'd been holding me down the whole time.” Armando told the truth about you.

“Does this girl know that you're actually a criminal, man?” Marcus grumbled from the passenger side.

“Doesn't matter. Y'all got me out.” Armando defended himself.

“Watch yourself.” Mike corrected Aretas once more and drove again.

_______

Former Army Ranger turned DEA agent James McGrath framed Captain Howard in the end, shot dead once AMMO faced this major bloodbath.

When that smoke cleared, even Judy, Captain's daughter, still let Armando off the hook

One wrong move could change Judy's mind, though.

After Armando gained help from paramedics, this man found your home in Miami and knocked, rattling this sound.

“Baby!” Armando just kept trying over and over again.

“Calm down!” Laughing for real, you finally opened the front door and rushed Armando inside, hoping not to disrupt neighbors.

______

There was still no chance to make love. Healing battle scars ran down Armando's perfect body once more as he watched you prepare for bed.

“You look so pretty, mami. C'mere.” He waits in awe, nearly shocked you exist.

Your look settled with no makeup, pajamas and messy hair.

You stepped out for work at the club, but Armando dreamed about old nights like this while incarcerated. Your peace towered his chaos.

“Wanna talk about it?” You always offered him the chance to vent. Nothing changed.

“No. Just sleep, princess.” Armando whispered and you rested near his good side, awaiting the future.

This reformed man could handle everything with you.

#answered #requests #armando aretas #armando x reader #bad boys ride or die #bad boys #bad boys for life #fanfiction #movies

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c4xcocoa · 4 months ago

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Could you do a Bungo Stray Dogs Kunikida x reader(They are f Scott Fitzgeralds other daughter. They left after the death of their mother and sister since their father became suffocating) they work at the detective agency as their lawyer. Kunikida and them formed a relationship. When their father comes and threatens their boss, they try to talk to him on their own over dinner. “I want you to leave the agency alone. If you don’t……you will have no presence in your grandchild’s life.” Kunikida and the reader are expecting. How do each of the men react?

I honestly have no clue what I just wrote. But here it is

The sounds of clinks and chatter are heard throughout the vast hall. Any average person would stare at everything in the room, gasp, and immediately reach to keep their wallet in a protective hold.But one of these things just doesn’t belong here, that thing being the woman dressed in a rather plain secretarial uniform. A uniform consisting of a white shirt completely buttoned with a white bow tie, a grey vest, and a long navy blue skirt.

She gave the hall a one over and released a slight look of distaste. The patrons who got a good look at her gave scoffs and looks, but the woman simply didn’t give a fuck. (Name) Kunikida was used to this.

Growing up, you and your sister were used to being judged, especially based on who your parents were. Speaking of parents, one said he was going to meet you here to ‘chat’.

You gingerly took a seat at the empty reserved table, again receiving looks, but never let anything escape the poised and elegant mask of the past that you wore just for the occasion.

Figures, the very man who invited you here is running late. Doesn’t seem like he’s changed at all despite his claims.

Just as you were Ready to get up and leave a familiar tall blond man rushed to the table and spat out a quick apology.

“Ah, sorry darling, The meeting took a bit longer than expected. Were you waiting long?” You gave a slight roll of your eyes before responding.

“It’s no worries Mr.Fitzgerald,” You respond with a deadpan look, the man in question wearing look, a look that you took great satisfaction in.

“Erm…I hope you realize that I’ve arranged this meeting as your father…not as the leader of the Guild.”

“And I hope you realize that you’re mistaken. I’m not your daughter.” You stares straight into his eyes, an empty smile decorating your mouth.

“Sweetheart, I know it’s you. You can cut the act.” He has that look in his eyes, the same look he had every morning when you mustered up the motivation to actually do something back when the two of you still lived together. After the once happy family of four first lost one, the number then dwindling to two, and then one.

“What act?”

“You know the one. I’m your father no matter what, we’re family-“

“No, I already have a family,” You cut him off, “a family that you threatened and attacked.”

“Look, honey. I get this phase and I can somewhat understand why you’d involve yourself with..with those people, but-“

“It’s not a phase!” You shoot up from your seat, hands on the table.

“(Name) Daisy Fitzgerald! Calm down and sit down, young lady!”

“No! I won’t! And I changed my damn name, for your information!”

“Oh really!? And what-”, the tycoon’s interrupted by a waiter—

“Sir, there’s a scene. If you could-” —before the waiter has a wad of cash thrown at his face.

“Sir..this is-“

“Take it to a damn currency exchange!” Both father and daughter yell at him.

“No-I mean-“

“What do you mean you changed your damn name!?”

“My last name isn’t Fitzgerald, so fuck off!”

“Er-sir, m’aam? The commotion-” the poor waiter’s stuck watching the scene

“Zip it, peasant!”

Fitzgerald turns back you, trying to calm himself down.

“What’s your last name now then?”

“…It’s Kunikida. Maybe you’d know if you actually went to the wedding.”

“What wedding?” He looks at you like you grew 17 more limbs.

“I sent you and mom the invite, and you replied saying you were too busy.”

“(Name), you know I never read invitations! And your mother’s in an institution!”

“Well-”

“Would you both shut up and take care of the commotion by the door!” ..and the waiter’s finally snapped.

The room sits in silence for a second—

“What-?”

—before the door’s thrown open.

“(Name)!”

“Doppo!?”

A familiar blond man storms in and grabs you.

“What the hell were you thinking!? Ranpo told me that I should go find you, and then I see you having dinner with-with the leader of the Guild!?”

“Honey, I can explain-”

“And what business do you have with the asshole anyway? Do you owe him money?”

“I’m not a loan shark-” Fitzgerald looks at your husband like he’s the one responsible for Zelda being institutionalized.

“Shut the fuck up! What business do you have with my wife!?”

…

“WIFE!?”

“Would you all get the hell out before I call security!?” The waiter screams at last.

The three of you go outside for the inevitable talk.

“Mr. Fitzgerald, this is my husband, Doppo Kunikida.”

“Would you just-”

“Doppo,” You once again interrupt the blond, “this is my sperm donor-”

“Her father, I’m her father. And I don’t recall approving of this marriage.”

Kunikida freezes with an expression on his face that would be comedic under more lighthearted circumstances.

“I don't recall needing your approval, sir.”

“Oh my-Dad! Just call me dad! Or father! Hell, I’d even accept old man at this point!”

“Don’t yell at my wife, you-”

“You be quiet! (Name) Fitzgerald, young lady, listen to me for once.” Your father takes ahold of your shoulders, looking into your eyes with what looked to be an earnest and borderline desperate expression.

“No! No, I won’t! why should I!? Did you ever listen to me!?” She shoves his hands off of her, backing away to stand by Kunikida, who is still honestly very confused.

“(Name), I-…” He takes a step back, blue eyes aimed at the floor. “I admit..I haven’t been the best father…but I still love you…is a second chance too much to ask for?”

“….I don’t know…How do I know you won’t act like you're trying before dropping it later and just going back to how things were before…”

“I promise, I’ll try my best.” Your father looks into your eyes, his being filled with nothing but sincerity.

You wonder if it’s really possible that he’ll change, that he’ll actually try to be a father. You knew that he loved his family more than anything, it’s just that it was more times than not that he prioritized his business more than any recitals, competitions, concerts and parties.

"…Fine, but this is your last chance."

"Got it, kiddo."

"Ok, shut up."

"…Would he be willing to buy us a house?"

"DOPPO!?" You whip around to face your husband.

"What!? We both know we can't raise a kid in the agency dorms!" He gives you a look, challenging you to disagree.

"A kid!?" Meanwhile, your father looks like he's gonna have a heart attack and die before he even turns 40.

Kunikida turns to face the older man with a stern face.

"Look, sir. I can confidently say that if you even attempt to harm the agency, you will never be able to be involved in the life of your daughter, or your grandchild."

"He's right, Dad. I want you to leave the agency alone. If you don’t……you will have no presence in your grandchild’s life or mine."

"You called me dad," He stares at the two of you, coming to a realization, "Fine. I won't mess with your little agency anymore. And I will buy you two a house. I've seen the agency dorms. No way in hell I'm letting my grandkids be raised in that hovel."

You give your husband a sideeye as he lets out a sigh of relief and mutters, "Oh, thank god."

"Great, now that that's settled. We're going home, and you are gonna stop spamming the president." You link your arm through your husband's and turn to leave.

"Wait! Young man, give me your phone number. If you're gonna be my son-in-law, we need to meet up and lay down some rules." Fitzgerald pulls out his phone.

"But I'm already your son-in-law? And what rules? I know how to treat my wife right." Kunikida hands the man his business card but looks a lot puzzled.

"I'll be the judge of that, you-"

"Ok, we're leaving!" You take the chance to actually leave now.

Fitzgerald watches as the two of you bicker for a bit and get into a car, his eyes locked on your face.

Oh, well. He's at least happy that your happy.

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #bsd fitzgerald #francis fitzgerald #bsd francis #doppo kunikida #bsd kunikida #bungou stray dogs kunikida #kunikida doppo #kunikida #kunikida bsd #kunikida x reader

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geekgirlspoetryproject · 1 year ago

Text

How my love for Warrior Nun ended up getting me a published novel

So like many of us, i am a huge fan of Warrior Nun. Like a somewhat smaller number of us, I am a big Doctor Superion shipper. Can't be helped. Mature ladies getting it together is my jam. I have written fic about them and of course a lot of Avatrice and Lilshotgun.

Anyway, I saw this picture of Thekla Reuten and

I thought "oooo, detective!"

Not long after, I encountered this photo of Sylvia Defanti:

And I thought, "ooo, detective wife! Wait no! DETECTIVE EX-WIFE!"

And then I thought, what if ART Detectives?? Picture them chasing an art thief around Europe while bickering and lowkey sniping at each other and falling back in love despite themselves and their whole opposites-attract yin/yang thing?

Plus, you know, Europe:

The more I thought about the idea, though, the more I realized I needed to change the characters too much for it to work as a fic. So because I was writing a lot of screenplays at the time, I wrote it as a screenplay. Let me tell you about these women...

Fleur van Beekhof

So yeah, you can see the shades of Jillian, obviously: cool, pragmatic, strategic and unflappable on the outside. Inside, a total disaster: heartbroken, career stagnating, struggling with a gambling addiction and still not over her ex-wife,

Renata Cellini

Renata quit the bureau after their divorce and went to manage a friend's art gallery in Bologna. She's passionate, sometimes harsh, wears everything out on her sleeve and is 100% in it for the drama, leaping into danger and looking annoyingly hot while doing so. She's Fleur's sole choice for all 3 options of "f*ck marry kill."

The only thing that could bring her back to the bureau is the "Fabulous Gustave," the one thief who got away from them, whose escape precipitated Fleur's gambling problem and the unraveling of their marriage.

What's more, he stole a painting by her favorite painter, the one she did her Master's thesis on: "Susanna and the Elders," by Artemisia Gentileschi.

(Artemisia btw was a badass, a baroque master not fully recognized in her day. She painted women like nobody else... with fury and agency. "Yo check out the head of the Assyrian general who was creeping on me, I just saved my people, you're welcome."

Anyway, ahem.)

So I had this movie written. The thing about movies, is they take forever to get made, if they do at all. And I adore these women and this story too much, so I adapted it into a novel, and on a hail-mary pass, sent it to one of the bigger sapphic publishers I knew of.

THEY SAID YES.

Look! In all its pre-orderable glory!

The women of Warrior Nun have been and continue to be an inexhaustible fountain of inspiration.

And also, if you feel like it, please support my novel.

#books #romance #sapphic #lesbian #lesbian romance #pride #warrior nun #doctor superion #thekla reuten #sylvia defanti #also did i mention i got a book deal??#fanfic

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drivinmeinsane · 1 year ago

Text

Give Me the Night

※ Holland March x Jackson Healy ※

{ masterlist } ※ { ao3 }

※ Summary: Like most jobs involving stakeouts, the night is going by slowly. That all takes a turn, however, when March finally pushes his fellow Nice Guy too far.

※ Rating: 18+ for explicit mature content

※ Content/Tags: Idiots in Love, Blow Jobs, Tit Jobs, Inappropriate use of a Semi-Public Space, Excessive Cum, Internalized period-typical homophobia, Emotionally Constipated Jackson Healy, Typical Idiot Holland March, Porn with Comedy AND Feelings, Collaboration

※ Word count: 7,759

※ Status: Oneshot/Complete

※ Author's Notes: This fic was written in collaboration with @danime25. We worked up the outline together and she kindly took the reins and wrote Holland's POV after our good pal Healy makes a break for it. It was wonderful working with her on this!

Yellow light filters through the windows of Holland’s car. The streetlights have been on for hours now, illuminating the sleepy street just enough to make out the shapes of shrubs and mailboxes. The two detectives inside the car are not concerned with the small details. They are looking out for the comings and goings of a man located in house number 1438. It’s a rather plain ranch style home with new porch railings.

The Nice Guys Detective Agency had been called the day prior by a woman who was concerned that her husband of three years was stepping out on her with another lady. It was the same old story that Holland March had handled his entire career as a PI. He gets a new one about once or twice a month. More over the holidays since the offending partner claims overtime at their place of employment to explain the sudden absences at home. The cases pay well enough, easy work to boot as long as the survailed party stayed none the wiser.

Holland shifts uncomfortably in his seat, drawing Healy’s attention. The bruiser eyes him with a passive curiosity. His back is stiff from being confined in the vehicle for so long, but he knows that his investigation partner must be feeling worse. Instead of breaking Holland’s left arm like he had planned, he had fractured the radius in Holland’s right. As fucked up as it sounds, he hadn’t wanted to risk damaging whatever issue the other man has going under the bandage of his left. The result was that the PI was down to limited functionality in both arms. The left is still full of stitches while the right is weighed down by a palm to elbow length cast. Still, the arm situation does not directly correlate to Holland’s current bout of bizarre behavior in any way that Healy can discern.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, March?” Healy asks, aiming for politeness. He misses by a mile.

“Excuse me? Why the fuck are you looking at me like that for?” Holland retorts with a disgusted tone.

“Because you’re acting weird.”

“I’m not acting weird. You’re the one acting weird.” Holland’s voice is shrill, and a bit defensive.

“I’m not the one squirming around like I gotta take a piss.”

“Fine! You really want to know?”

“No, March,” he throws up his hands, “I asked because I don’t want to know.” His tone is sarcastic.

“Well… it’s been a while since you broke my fucking arm .” He flings the affected limb in a sweeping gesture for dramatic effect, narrowly missing Healy.

“I said I was sorry.”

Holland scoffs and pulls a pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket along with his lighter. “Well, your apologies are worth shit to me when I can’t crank one out in the bathroom.”

The look on Healy’s face is incredulous. “Seriously? That’s it, asshole?”

“What the fuck do you mean ‘that’s it’?” He places a cigarette between his lips and lights it, letting it rest loosely in his mouth.

Healy is almost upset enough to snag the cigarette right out of the other man’s mouth. He has no reason to be this bothered by their conversation. His skin feels too warm, the collar of his shirt too tight.

“What the fuck do you want me to do about it? You want me to give you a little handy between partners?”

“Well, for starters, don’t look at my crotch like you enjoy it,” Holland snarls back, using his more functional hand to block Healy’s view. “I just need something to get myself off with.”

A light turns on in the house closest to them. The porch light follows shortly after. Their shouting must have been loud enough to wake the occupant. The last thing they need is the actual police getting called and thrust into their business.

“Shut up and stop thinking with your dick. We’re on a job,” Jackson responds, irate.

Turning the key in the ignition, Holland starts the car and floors it. They pelt out of the neighborhood in an obnoxious screech of tires on pavement. If their yelling hadn’t woken the entire block, Holland’s maneuver certainly finished the job. He pulls into an empty lot. The only source of light is the vehicle’s headlights.

“Real subtle,” he mutters under his breath, still ruffled.

The other man hits the steering wheel with the palms of both hands. He lets out a gasp at jostling his injured arms unnecessarily. He turns on the man seated beside him once he shakes off the pain. “Great, we’ve lost at least three days on that lead thanks to you.”

“‘Thanks to me’,” Healy repeats, “Do you even hear yourself sometimes?”

He fumbles for the door handle and gets out of the car. He slams the door hard enough to rattle the entire machine. The bruiser needs a moment to cool down or he will do something that they will both regret. He is almost shaking. From what? He doesn’t know exactly.

Holland doesn’t leave well enough alone and exits the car in pursuit of his partner. He stops with the door ajar and his hand on the roof. “Yeah, I do hear myself. I have a pretty voice, thank you very much.”

The shorter man shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans and walks further away from the Benz. He forces himself to accept the PI’s words with equanimity. He’s struggling with it. Does the other man ever stop running his mouth?

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” Holland slams the door, shutting his blazer in it without realizing. He tries to set off after him, but comes to an abrupt halt when he gets yanked back by the caught jacket. He struggles out of it, leaving it hanging sadly in the door and gets up in Healy’s face.

“See that? You just cost me my favorite jacket and for what?”

“Get out of my face, March,” Jack says calmly, too calmly. His tone is a warning of an imminent punch to the face if the detective doesn’t comply. He puts a hand on the other man’s chest, cautioning him.

“Or what?” Holland sneers, “You gonna kiss me?”

Healy doesn’t say anything, He drops his hand from Holland’s chest and takes a step back, turns partially away. Nausea rolls through his stomach.

“Hey, hey, Jack, I was just kidding.” Holland sounds a little softer.

He waves a dismissive hand with forced casualness and starts walking back to the car. “Let’s get back to work. Don’t want to waste the time here.”

The detective purses his lips and follows after him only to stop a few feet away from the vehicle. He has a calculating look on his face. It’s the kind of look Holland gets when he is about to make a decision that is going to make whatever partner of his want to tear their hair out. Healy opens his mouth to ask him what he is about to do right as Holland throws the keys. All he can do is watch in speechless horror as they go sailing into the darkness and clatter noisily somewhere onto the ground. He’s damn near blind during the day with his reading glasses on, much less at night without any aid whatsoever.

“What the fuck , March?” He growls once the initial shock has worn off.

Holland gestures at him, equally upset. “Enough of this. Just say you want to fuck me or something.”

The nauseous feeling grows more prominent. It feels like his stomach acid is trying to crawl up his throat. Why the hell was his partner doing this? Healy had tried hard to be normal around the other man. He had not let his eyes wander because that was the kind of shit that got your ass beat in an alley.

“Yeah?” He lets out an unconvincing laugh, “What makes you think I wanna fuck you?”

“I mean, look at you,” the PI scoffs despite having to adjust himself so his erection isn't so obviously tenting the material of his white slacks.

“Me? You’re the one panting over there like a dog. You can’t control yourself, March.”

That spurns Holland into crowding against him. Healy holds his ground, he’s not going to be bullied around by his partner. The other man leans down to speak, but he misjudges the distance in the dark and his lips brush against Jackson’s mouth. They recoil from each other like gunshots had been fired in their direction.

“I knew you wanted to fuck me,” Holland says, laying the blame for his own error onto Healy. He makes a show of looking him up and down.

Impulsively, he grabs the collar of Holland’s shirt. He twists his broad hand into the expensive fabric and jerks the taller man forward until they’re nose to nose. “I never said anything about wanting to fuck you. Sounds like you’re making excuses to fuck me.”

“As if,” is the response he gets, but Jackson does not miss the considering way March eyes his mouth. The detective adjusts the angle of his head, aligning their mouths, mere millimeters between them.

At the feeling of Holland’s mustache brushing over his upper lip, Healy makes a small sound. A whine? A moan? He panics, and his fist swings up without his permission and collides solidly with the face of the man coming onto him. His hand slips off the other man’s shirt, and Holland takes a few staggering steps backwards.

“What the fuck?” March whimpers and looks up at Healy, “The hell was that for?”

Healy refuses to look at him and instead starts fruitlessly scanning the ground. “Shut up and help me look for the keys.”

He hears the other man rub his face with a groan. The bruiser knows his partner has a good chance of sporting a black eye tomorrow. This entire night is turning into a nightmare. He has not felt this unsteady since Joanne had admitted that she was fucking his father. The scuffle of shoes on the ground is the only warning he gets before Holland grabs ahold of him. Before he can protest, the taller man kisses him. It’s an awkward clash of mouths, too much teeth, but Holland is making up for it by sheer enthusiasm.

Healy stiffens, but then he is grasping desperately onto the PI. He kisses him back like a man lost in the desert who has just been given a glass of water. He chases after the other man when he pulls back for air, capturing his mouth once again. His hand rests heavily on the nape of March’s neck, worked in the short hair. They shouldn’t be doing this. They’re old enough to damn well know better than to do this.

That line of questioning does not stop him from wedging a thigh between Holland’s legs, rubbing it against the taller man’s clothed erection in the process. His partner catches on quickly and chases the friction. Healy wraps a hand around March’s narrow hip, encouraging him further until the detective is all but humping his leg like a dog in heat. They’re panting into each other’s open mouths, eyes closed.

Holland moans out a soft little, “Fuck.”. He sounds almost as though he is begging for more, even as his hands grab desperately at the back of Healy’s jacket.

“Yeah, you would like that, March,” he mutters against the side of the PI’s neck. He slides the hand cupping the back of Holland’s neck to his front and works at pulling the other man’s shirt free from his pants. Healy almost feels drunk despite turning down his partner’s offered flask more than once during the stakeout. A shiver courses through him when he feels Holland start to return his interest by putting his hand underneath his jacket, not seeking bare skin yet, but the heat of his touch through the tropical patterned shirt is enough to get Jackson to grind his own hard dick against his partner’s hip.

He feels the wet pressure of Holland’s lips connecting with his cheek and has to swallow. This is more intimate than he had ever dared to imagine in the most repressed corners of his mind. Maybe Holland had bashed him over the head in the car with his cast and this was all some kind of fucked up wet dream. The twitch of the other man’s cock against him feels real enough though.

“Whaddaya want, huh?” Jack dares to ask.

“I want…” Holland trails off, clearly contemplating, but instead of coming up with a response, he shoves his face against Healy’s shoulder. All traces of his bravado are gone.

“You’re never this quiet, March,” he grumbles. He drags his thick fingers down the detective’s stomach to right above his belt. “If I knew this was all it took to get you to shut up… Look, do you want me to give you a handjob or what?”

“No, I want,” Holland makes a gesture with his hands that suggests he’s cupping a pair of invisible breasts, “you know, that .”

The look Healy gives him is flabbergasted. “March, you… you know I’m not a woman, right?”

“Yeah, I fucking know that.” Holland looks down at where he and Healy are pressed together like a pair of randy teenagers, “I’m not a fucking idiot.”

Shaking his head, he opens his mouth to say something in response to him, but just shakes his head instead. There’s no use in arguing with him. Healy knows that the other man is a fucking idiot sometimes and that knowledge is enough for him right now. He decides to humor March and strips off his jacket and tosses it onto the ground behind him. He makes short work of the buttons on his shirt and leaves it hanging open to reveal the white wifebeater he wears as an undershirt. Jack fights the instinctive urge to cover himself, knowing that his body is not in as good of shape as his companion’s.

“We’re actually doing this?” Holland asks despite already beginning to work his belt off with the hand not encased in a cast. He’s doing such a poor job of it that it prompts Healy to swat his hand away and undo it for him.

“Whatever ‘this’ is,” he says with a shrug of his good shoulder. He pulls the detective’s belt free of the loops and tosses it in the vague direction of where he threw his jacket just moments before. They’ll have a considerable scavenger hunt on their hands at the end of this.

Holland undoes the zipper on his dress pants and unceremoniously pulls his dick out. “Okay, I’ve never done this before.”

Healy watches as March closes his eyes in preparation. For what? He doesn’t have the faintest damn clue. “Why fuck are you closing your eyes. This isn’t jumping off the diving board,” he says incredulously.

“ Jesus! Just shut up,” Holland snaps back, opening his eyes reproachfully. He puts a hand on Healy’s shoulder and tries to encourage him onto his knees. Jack doesn’t budge. “Just… let me use your chest.”

“For what?” He grumbles. He decides to humor Holland’s cues and lowers himself to the ground. A rock digs uncomfortably into his shin and he mutters a complaint under his breath, shifting his leg into a spot with less gravel. He tries to tune out how hard his dick is in his own pants. The kneeling position has pulled the fabric taut over his crotch, and he has to suppress a groan that’s more arousal than discomfort over this indignity. This is right up near the top of the most asinine things his partner has asked him to do since they met about a month ago. He’s gone along with the other man this far though, and he might as well continue.

Holland moves to get onto his knees, but he pulls up short of actually doing it. “This isn’t going to work, let’s go to my car,” he says, offering a hand to Healy and helping him to his feet without bothering to tuck his dick back into his pants.

“You have to be fucking with me,” he protests but follows the taller man back to the car all the same. He hovers awkwardly next to the rear tire on the passenger side. He’s really starting to be on the verge of regretting this. Holland has to be playing some kind of joke on him. His hands hover over the buttons of his open shirt and he’s about to start doing it up when March pats the top of the trunk.

“Come on,” he says encouragingly. The PI sheds his own over-shirt, stripped down to his undone pants and sleeveless undershirt.

He instantly follows Holland’s lead and lets his own touristy shirt fall from his shoulders and onto the ground. This entire vacant lot is going to look like some type of crime scene by the end of night. He heaves himself onto the trunk, heels briefly making contact with the tire. He’s perched on the edge, tense as though he’s ready to fight. Jack is not given much time to work himself into abandoning this whole ordeal because Holland steps up into his space, forcing a home for himself between his legs. Desperation and arousal is written all over the taller man’s face. Either Holland is a surprisingly good actor or he’s actually not yanking Healy’s chain.

The detective puts his full weight into the kiss. Healy’s breath hitches when March’s tongue swipes over his bottom lip. He feels the other man grin in response to his reaction. It’s all Jackson can do to put a calloused hand on the back of his partner’s neck and hold him close. Holland’s facial hair is surprisingly soft against Healy’s stubbled face.

“Fuck,” Holland says softly and drags his pants over the curve of his ass, down far enough to be able to kick them off before crawling onto the car.

The bruiser lays back across the trunk, the metal is cold against his skin, but Holland is blazingly warm against his stomach as he gets into position on top of him. He takes the hem of Healy’s shirt in his hands and encourages it up and over his head to get discarded somewhere on the ground by the driver’s side of the car. Holland shifts so he’s properly straddling him, knees bracketing his sides. The detective’s cock rests in the divot between Healy’s pecs.

“The fuck you doing, March?” It comes out as a near whisper in the darkness.

“What I wanted,” Holland says and spits, slicking the space where his dick rests just enough that it glides smoothly on the first few thrusts as he begins to rub himself off using Healy’s chest.

Suddenly, Holland’s comments about using his chest to get off are crystal clear. Taking a deep breath, Healy pushes his elbows against either side of his chest, forming a tighter passage for his partner to fuck against. It was like something he’d seen women do in pornos sometimes. His chest is quickly made slick by the copious amounts of precum leaking from the man on top of him.

Above him, Holland lets out a broken whine as he chases his release. He’s thrusting against Healy like both their lives depend on it. March’s hands are firmly planted to either side of his shoulders. Jack can’t hold back an answering groan, so uncomfortably hard in his jeans with no relief in sight. His chest hair is going to be a sticky, matted mess. All of this shouldn’t be as appealing as it is. The only thing that could make it better in this moment is if he could just see his partner a little more clearly. He wants to know what Holland’s face looks like when he cums.

“C’mon, March. You wanted this,” he says, spurring him on. He has a good, if a little blurry, visual of the other man’s upper body with their current position. If he were not occupied with holding his amble chest together for Holland to use, his hands might be tempted to wander.

In response, Holland whines and picks up the pace, nearly rubbing them both raw as he brings himself to the finish line. Jack swears he catches a glimpse of tears in Holland’s eyes as the man finally orgasms. He releases the pressure against his pecs and catches his partner as he goes limp on top of him. Healy feels like he is getting sprayed down with a hose. The other man’s cum floods in the valley of his chest, pooling at the base of his throat and trickling down either side of his neck. A stray shot or two catches him in the face. He tastes bitter saltiness on his lips when he reflexively licks them. It’s a lot of cum, way too much really.

“Shit,” the PI sighs and gingerly scoots out of his hold, further down his body. His dick twitches and a few stray droplets of cum fall onto Healy’s stomach. His own dick is throbbing in his pants when Holland unintentionally makes contact with his crotch.

Healy continues to lay back across the trunk, slightly dazed as his partner shimmies off the vehicle and pulls his boxers and pants back on. He had just let another man rub himself off on him and he hadn’t hated it. He’d enjoyed it even. Near his feet, Holland zips his trousers up and Jack feels himself tense at the crisp sound. He braces himself for the punchline now that the other man has had his fun and gotten his rocks off. He did not particularly think March would be cruel enough to mock him, but this… he didn’t have a script for this.

“What do you want?” Holland asks after a moment of awkward silence, cutting right to the chase.

“Surprise me, March. You’ve been doing a real bang up job of it tonight.” Healy responds, a little hoarse. He doesn’t know what the hell he wants.

“Okay… uhh… sit up, I guess,” he replies, getting onto his knees. His eyes are level with Healy’s crotch.

He obliges him, ignoring the pop in his back as he does. Holland’s cum slides coldly down his chest before stopping somewhere on his stomach. He’s too struck dumb by arousal to care. The other man is on his knees for him, how could he have any rational thought? This has gone far beyond Healy’s wet dream hypothesis and the handjob only gay porno he’d dared to sneak a look at once.

Encouraged by Holland’s hands on his knees, he spreads his legs further to make room for him to shuffle in between them. He manages a reassuring nod when his partner checks in on him with a raised eyebrow that he can barely make out in the dark as he feels the kneeling man slide his left hand up his thigh to get at the front of his pants. Holland has no trouble with the zipper and button on Healy’s jeans despite the fumbling of his own belt earlier. There’s no underwear to tug out of the way. Jackson can’t be bothered to do any more laundry than strictly necessary.

“Shit, I thought I was big…” Holland mutters under his breath and puts his mouth over the head of Healy’s cock.

It was a line straight out of a skin flick, but damn if it didn’t send a hot rush of arousal down Jack’s spine all the same. His head falls back and he lets a guttural noise in response to the way his partner is tonguing along his shaft. Shakily, he puts a hand on his shoulder, gripping firmly. His thumb rubs back and forth against the side of Holland’s neck. He can feel the other man’s throat working as he gives him a blowjob.

A Holland-esque whine almost bursts from his lips when the detective pulls off of him with a wet sounding pop. “Good?”

“Yeah, yeah, real good,” Healy admits, breathing heavily. “Now, please shut up and y’know…”

“Keep going?” Holland finishes with a smirk that’s blinding even in the dim light, and then his mouth is back to work doing something other than engaging in his usual vices of smoking, drinking, and talking way too fucking much.

He tightens his fingers on March’s shoulder like he’s a dog gripping onto a squeaky toy. As inexperienced as the PI clearly is at this kind of thing, it’s almost more than Healy can handle. He’s torn between shoving the other man away or pulling him closer. It has been so long since he’s gotten off. He hadn’t even wanted to touch himself after his wife admitted to cheating on him with his own father of all people. There had not been a single pair of pretty legs that had gotten his attention until Holland came along. Hell, if he admits it to himself, even his wife hadn’t really done it for him. There had always been an undercurrent of wrongness to the whole situation. He’d chalked it up to the fact that she was cheating on him during their marriage, but upon reflection, he hadn’t exactly been performing in the bedroom before that whole relationship started.

“Fuck,” he groans, fighting to keep from thrusting up into his mouth. He’s close, too close. He’s about to- “Holland… Holland .”

The other man moans around Healy’s cock. He’s doing his best to swallow down what he’s given, but some of it leaks out of his mouth and onto his goatee. They make eye contact as he proceeds to milk Jack dry. He pushes against Holland once the suction becomes too much around his softening dick. The other man lets him slip free and while Healy hastily tucks himself, oversensitive, back into his jeans, he leans against his car.

“That was… good,” Holland offers into the silence between the two of them.

Healy takes a moment to respond, busying himself with zipping up his pants and sliding the button home. The turmoil of feelings that he was experiencing earlier is back in full force. They’d both gotten off but no… there was the aftermath.

“March…” he starts but peters out. He slides off of the car. He’s all too aware that he’s still shirtless and covered in Holland’s semen. It’s slowly drying into his chest and stomach hair, getting clean in the dark with no water and no spare cloth is a lost cause.

“Yeah?” The PI responds the moment he realizes Healy isn’t going to add onto the thought. His tone is hopeful, bordering on needy.

“Why…?” He's not sure how to find the words. Hell, what does someone say in this kind of situation?

“Why what?” Holland asks with a touch of tentativeness, as though Healy is going to lay into him.

“Why’d you… this wasn't some kinda joke was it, March?” He questions, shoving his hands into his pockets and curling inward slightly. What he would give to be fully dressed right now. Not that it would help much, he hasn't felt in control since he and Holland started fighting in the car. He isn’t a feelings kind of guy. That would mean he's weak.

“No!” Holland’s voice peaks and cracks. It settles into a more normal range as he continues. “I don’t know… I don’t know how to explain it. This feels different than the way I felt about my wife.”

Healy mutely nods as the taller man starts feeling himself up for his pack of cigarettes before realizing that they’re still in his jacket pocket. Holland wanders around the other side of the car, out of his field of vision, to go after his suit jacket.

The new addition to the Nice Guys Detective Agency can agree though. Whatever is going on between them feels different than it had with his own, now ex, wife. For him, it had felt… right. He absentmindedly follows March around to the other side of the car and picks up his undershirt. He pulls it back over his head, grimacing as his wet chest makes contact with the fabric. The minute he has a chance, he’s jumping in the shower. In the middle of shrugging on his Hawaiian shirt, he hears what sounds like the door of the Benz being opened followed by the rustling of fabric. Incredulous, he turns to stare at the other man.

“The door was open.” Holland says to him, not looking up from the ground.

He doesn't even have it in him to be mad, just lets out a helpless chuckle. “You have to be fucking joking.”

“No,” he sounds sheepish, “but we still gotta find the keys to get out of here. Unless you’d rather talk about what,” gesturing between the two of them, “ this is first.”

“Let’s find the keys first, then we can talk.” Privately, he wants the option for Holland to just leave his ass here if things go south. He doesn’t want his partner to feel trapped with him.

“Sounds good,” Holland says, closing the door and slipping his jacket back on. He flashes Healy a wide smile and bounds over to the approximate location of where he had thrown the keys a while earlier.

Healy locates his jacket and pulls it on. It’s dusty from the dry soil of the lot. He squints into the darkness, scanning the ground for the keys. He almost feels like he would be better off getting onto his hands and knees like that chick in the orange turtleneck that was always losing her glasses on the show Holly’s been into, the one with the talking dog.

He moves to stand next to Holland, brushing shoulders with him in a friendly way. “Why did you have to throw the keys?” He finally comments when his straining eyes fail to see a glimmer of metal.

“I don’t know,” he admits flatly. “We had to resolve whatever that tension was between us somehow.”

Jackson frowns, shrugs. He takes a few steps forward away from Holland, kicking at the ground fruitlessly. He doesn’t get rewarded by the sound of pebbles hitting metal. “What kinda tension you talking about?”

“Y’know… Where I was up in your face and you were trying to get out of mine. That tension.”

“Right, yeah,” he grumbles. “Look, March. What are you wanting outta this?”

“I dunno. Right now it just feels nice when I’m around you.” He shrugs, “You know what I had on my hand when we met? ‘You’ll never be happy’?”

“Yeah? What about it?” Healy tries to not sound choked up over Holland’s words. Where did all these emotions come from? He was an even tempered man, occasionally angry, but this… There was no word of the day for this.

“When I wake up and see you and Holly on the couch… I’m happy.” Holland shrugs and looks at him.

Healy is silent for a long moment before he speaks, his words slow, measured. “You and the kid… it gives me a reason to get up in the morning. Don’t know where I’d be without you.”

“Jesus.” Holland lets out a sigh, putting a hand over his own chest, “Haven’t been this nervous since I got down on one knee… you know, for Holly’s…” he clears his throat, not finishing the thought.

He teeters on the cusp of saying something sincere, but it’s not the time. He doesn’t want to go down an upsetting path, not tonight. They had enough to think about. “Guess I’ll be the one getting on one knee then,” he jokes. A gleam of metal catches his attention when he shifts in place. Holy shit, it’s the keys. He doesn’t dare move in case he loses sight of them with his crap depth perception. He grabs the air in Holland’s direction with one hand while pointing at the keys with the other. “March! March! Keys! ”

“Yes! Fuck yes!” The detective yelps and dives for the keys. He snatches them off the ground with a flourish and crowds into Healy’s space, heys in hand. He kisses him, an enthusiastic press of his mouth against his. He’s smiling even as he pulls back and a shy look crosses his face. “I mean, thanks.”

Healy can’t help himself and draws the man back in, allowing himself to initiate for the first time tonight. He brushes his mouth gently over Holland’s. He lingers for a moment before breaking away. Perhaps if the spell doesn’t break, he could get used to having this.

“Let’s… go home.” March rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. They stare at each other until Healy raises his eyebrows at him. “Right! Home,” he says with a nod and hoofs it back to the car. Jack follows and settles himself into the passenger seat. He feels more content than he has in years.

The drive back to Holland’s house is free of any drama. Holland spends the time aimlessly chattering. It relaxes Healy. He’s nearly asleep by the time they pull into the driveway.

“Huh,” he hears Holland say, and he opens his eyes to see the light of the television flickering from the living room window.

He gets out of the car with a groan and the two men make their way to the front door. Holland fumbles his house key into the lock. Opening the door reveals Holly and Jessica standing in the living room in front of the tv, clearly surprised at being caught still awake.

“Jessica, what are you doing in my house?”

“Sorry Mr. March. My sister’s busy,” she apologizes.

“Yeah, I bet she is.” Holland scoffs. Jack resists the urge to kick him in the back of the leg.

Jessica looks at the men and blurts out. “Oh! Do you go to the same nighttime baking class as my sister?” Holly makes a noise like a stepped on mouse.

Healy is ready to shrug it off as one of Jessica’s eccentricities and Holly having a hiccup, but a cold knife of cognizance suddenly impales him. He remembers that he and Holland didn’t wipe off their faces. He can feel the mostly dried jizz so clearly on his neck and lower half of his face. Oh fuck.

“What…” Holland starts to say before looking at Healy. His eyes go wide in his own realization. “Yeah. Baking. Baking class.”

“Yeah, cinnamon rolls tonight. The icing is real. Uh… real tricky. Gotta make it from scratch. Gets messy.” Healy manages. Why can’t he shut up? He’s sweating. Holly is staring a hole into his soul. Oh, god, she knows he and her old man were doing the hanky panky like a pair of teenagers while they were supposed to be working. If she looks at them any harder, they are both going to catch on fire and burn into two piles of ash right here in the entryway.

Making things worse, Holland dips a finger into the mostly dried cum on Healy and brings it up to his mouth, sucking on the finger. “Wow. Um, really good icing.”

“March, what the fuck are you doing?” Healy questions as nicely as he can manage given the circumstances. Holly makes a retching sound. Jessica as always is oblivious to anything going on around her.

“Just… getting the last bit off you,” the man says with a shrug. Healy watches in fascinated horror as a bead of sweat rolls down his partner’s face. He can see his own release dried into Holland’s goatee. This is too much.

“Well, uh. I’m going to use your shower. If you will please excuse me,” Jackson says politely, too politely, and tries to pretend he isn’t fleeing the scene of a crime. He leaves Holland to deal with the fallout and ducks into the master bathroom and looks at himself in the mirror. What a mess. His undershirt is ruined, but he should have enough clothes to get back to his own apartment after this.

───※ ·❆· ※───

“Well then, let’s get you home Jessica.” Holland clasps his hands together and keeps his lips pressed tight to one another to avoid the awkward smile that was creeping across his face. He feels the cold, sharp daggers that his daughter’s eyes are shooting at him and he turns around to pull his coat back off the hanger. Holland is looking for any excuse to avoid the lecture that he knows Holly has in store for him when he gets back. Unfortunately for him, Jessica has one of the first rational thoughts in her life. She digs her heels a bit into the shag carpet as Holland attempts to push her out the door and says,

“Wait, Mr. March. I live just across the street, remember? I can just walk home.”

Holland’s eyes go blank. He didn’t remember, honestly. “Right. That’s right,” he repeats to himself mostly

“Anyway, bye Holly. I’ll see you at school!” Jessica walks out of the house like she’s a member of the Brady Bunch. That’s the show Jessica liked, right? He shakes his head. It doesn't matter now. What matters is how the hell Holland is going to get out of the scolding that Holly has at the ready for him. He puts the poor coat back onto the hook before slowly turning around to face his daughter. What could he say? She already looks more disappointed in him than the first time she had to drive and pick him up from the bar.

“Hi, honey.” He waves slowly at her, hoping to diffuse some of the tension in the air. This does not work. While he was trying to skirt on out of his own house, Holly had stood up from the couch and crossed her arms in front of her.

“Did you and Mister Healy have… sex and stuff?” She gets right to the point

“Don’t say ‘and stuff’...” Holland starts on his usual spiel. He zips his lips back up when he can see the look in Holly’s eyes getting even more venomous.

“Were you and Mister Healy having sex and stuff ?” She doubles down, making sure to punctuate every word as she repeats her question. She is not about to let her father out of this.

“Fine, we were… having sex.” Holland rubs the back of his neck as he says this. He looked like a teenager caught having a house party while his parents were out of town. Holly rolls her eyes at him and sighs, the gesture laced with disapproval for her dad’s carelessness. She sits back down on the couch before looking back at him and telling him,

“At least clean him up next time, Dad.”

“Fine. I will.” Holland huffs a little bit. His chest puffs up defensively before asking, “Why do you care?”

“Parents should treat each other with respect,” she shrugs. “Also maybe you don’t need to soil the eyes of your teenage daughter by bringing him back looking like that.”

“Okay, fine. You’re right.” He looks away. Up, down, anywhere that wasn’t the direct gaze of his daughter’s judging eyes. He begins doubling down on himself, “I just thought you’d be in bed.”

“Whatever. Just go check on him.” She settles in and watches the tv. She’s going to push her bedtime because her dad is the bigger problem right now. He had no room to judge when his own house wasn’t in order.

“Fine.” He walks to the bathroom with his tail tucked between his legs. He holds his ear up to the door for a second before knocking on the wood. “Hey, Healy?”

“Yeah?” Healy calls back over the sound of the water. He had barely set foot in the shower. It had taken him an age to peel himself out of his undershirt, his hair sticking uncomfortably to the cloth. How the hell did Holland cum so much? The other issue at hand was trying to figure out how to use the shower. After a couple of false starts, he managed to switch the water to the shower handle instead of the bath faucet.

“You mind if I come in?” Holland asks, his voice soft again. He doesn’t want to intrude on the other man if he isn’t welcome, but he wouldn’t be upset if he got a full look at Healy. With Healy’s permission, of course.

The other man hesitates for a moment but decides that it’s fine. He replies with a quick, “It’s your bathroom, March.”

“Yeah, but…” Holland lets out a quick sigh before he opens the door and walks in. He manages to undress himself quickly and glances over at the mirror. He uses his hand to run over his facial hair and mentally mark down where he needs to clean himself up. That was a problem for another day, however. He tugs gently on the shower curtain before asking, “Can I come in?”

“Yeah.” The bruiser moves to the side to make room for the lankier man. It’s become second nature for Healy. As of late, his entire life has somehow molded around being a part of Holly and Holland’s little family. Not that he’d complain about the recent lack of loneliness.

“Hey.” Holland grins. It’s a quirky little half smile where his lips are almost hidden but there’s just enough there for Healy to see just how happy Holland is. He almost looks like a golden retriever. That’s before he asks the other man, “Can I… kiss you again?” He closes his eyes firmly, fully expecting a ‘no’ or ‘that’s too much’ from Healy, but Healy seems to have no problem with this. He leans in, taking the dive yet again. He pulls Holland into his arms by his waist. He kisses the other man in a way his probably shaky voice could never begin to explain. After they break their contact Holland just kind of laughs, “I was just gonna do this…” he explains. His lips meet with the crown of Healy’s head. His arms work their way around his kind of boyfriend and rests his chin atop the other man’s head. They stay still in the water like this for a moment together. It was oddly intimate, even though a mere hour ago the blond was using the other man’s chest to get himself off. Healy lets a soft pleased moan slip from his lips while Holland cleans off his mess from Healy’s chest. He reaches up and gets some shampoo lathered in between his fingers. His fingers work their way through the blond’s hair. This is a moment of intimacy Healy hadn’t had with someone outside of sex before.

A couple minutes later, after the two were clean, Holland reaches behind Healy’s back and switches the water off. He carefully pulls the shower curtain to one side and reaches for a towel, offering it to Healy. He steps out of the tub and starts to rummage through his bathroom closet. It shouldn’t be this hard to find a damn towel. After he finds one he starts drying himself off and looks over at Healy, who offers him a quick, “Thanks” in return for the shower. Jackson picks up his pile of clothes and forces himself back into his jeans. At this point, he’s sure that Holland’s sick of him and is just waiting for the other shoe to drop. Before that can happen Holland interrupts his thoughts.

“You wanna… sleep in my bed?” Holland asks, again expecting that it’s at this point Healy’s gone along for the ride for too long, and he’ll finally want to stop. He offers further, “Or if you don’t, you can sleep on the couch. Just kick Holly out and back to her room. She should be asleep anyway.” His sentence continues to trail as he fills in the silence that had settled between the two of them. Healy sighs and runs the palm of his hand across his face before saying,

“I didn’t know staying was an option.” His words are soft, and a bit hesitant. “Where do you want me?”

“I…” Holland starts to stutter. He takes a breath to calm himself down before finally saying, “Honestly? I want you in my bed.” He scoffs to himself. If he hadn’t done it before, Healy was sure to get off now. It was really an outlandish thing for Holland to ask of the other man.

“Okay. Okay, yeah, I can do that. Forgot to bring my pajamas though. Wasn’t expecting a sleepover,’ He jokes, using this opportunity to zip up his jeans.

“Yeah, that’s fine.” Holland rubs his eyes as he starts getting tired. He walks over to his dresser and scans through his clothes for something to wear. He settles on an undershirt that’s clean enough for Holland’s standards and a fresh pair of boxers. He lies down and sprawls across his bed before making room for the other half of Nice Guys Agency to lie besides him.

Healy uses the blanket on the bed to cover himself up a little, but lets his hands rest on top of his still bare stomach. He’s trying his best not to break some unspoken boundary between the two but he can’t help but feel tempted when he sees the way Holland takes up the space on his bed. Holland’s no better than him, not with him sliding a cautious arm around the other man's back. He lets that hand lean against Healy’s side, fingers running through the other man’s body hair ever so slightly. Healy seems to notice this discrepancy and looks down at Holland’s arm.

“Thought your left hand was too fucked up to stroke anything, March.”

“I… yeah it is.” Holland slides his hand back, doing his best to pretend that it was still screwed up. His face was bright red, not that anyone would be able to tell. He didn’t want to admit it, Healy hadn’t really caught him, had he?

Without a thought, Healy catches Holland’s arm before it gets too far away. He moves it back to its previous spot. “If you wanted attention, you could have just said something. Woulda saved us some trouble.”

“And say what?” Holland snarks back at him, “ ‘Hey, Healy, give me a handy will ya?’ No thanks.” Jack shakes with a silent laugh.

“I did offer you one, y’know. In the car.”

“Yeah. I know.” He rolls his eyes, “I was probably thinking more with my schwantz than I want to admit.”

#the nice guys (2016)#the nice guys #the nice guys fanfiction #ryan gosling #holland march #jackson healy #holland march x jackson healy #healland #holland march fanfic #ryan gosling fanfiction #my work #my posts

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askryuu · 10 months ago

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with the scratch of a pen a phone clatters onto a desk in a strange detective agency, but not the one you know.

welcome, ladies, gentlemen and all others to the 2024 BEAST AU takeover, this event will last a number of hours, and the original cast you’ll are aware of is unable to be reached during this time. however everyone’s BEAST counterparts are available.

#??????? posts

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fordarkisthesuede · 10 months ago

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Fangs of Ouroboros - Chapter 3 - The Carrot and the Stick

I meant to say this in the beginning of the year, but as usual stuff kept getting in the way, so I'll say it now:

THANK YOU FOR ALL YOUR SUPPORT IN 2023!!! ｡･+ﾟﾟ(うд´｡)ﾟﾟ+･｡ 💖💖💖💖💖

Last time on The Snake Goes Round 'n' Round:

Tiffany and John worked together to investigate the explosive that destroyed the office of a PI with a connection to Lady Arkham, discovering the bomber is connected to a very publicized 5-year-old murder. Deciding to see if they can get a firm ID out of a short list of candidates, they head to Blackgate Prison disguised as lawyers...

And now, we rejoin Bruce as he heads off to see what The Agency wants with Wayne Enterprises...

[ start ] | [ prev ] | [ Read on Ao3 ] | [ next]

Bruce drummed the steering wheel as the motor idled in the early morning traffic. It would get worse in twenty minutes, when everyone left for their 8 o’clock shifts at the same time.

His mind kept drifting back to the explosion. How Oz didn’t seem to know one of his men was dead. How strangely well-timed it seemed with the weird murder-game Joker had made upstairs. Those stupid notes. How in his own words John had said he would do that kind of thing just to mess with him…

Not that he actually suspected John of being behind it. If he had used real bodies in that room, then… But of course he hadn’t. And he couldn’t picture John, who took pride in putting his own ‘Joker’ signature on everything he made, not making the bomb himself. Let alone not taking credit for it. Or putting glitter in it.

And it made Bruce wonder: if it wasn’t the world’s greatest coincidence that a detective linked to a nefarious terrorist would have an attempt on his life botched horribly - or else just his work destroyed - then could someone have been following John to make it seem like the two things were related?

He could feel the locker key he’d gotten from Joker’s “crime scene” burning a hole in his breast pocket. It felt like a longshot, but if that was true, then whoever had followed John to the old building could have followed him elsewhere. They might know the next step. They might know the whole game. Which meant either of them could be waltzing into a trap.

Bruce clenched his teeth and turned sharp enough to barely avoid the curb as he sorted through his mental map of Gotham. St. Dymphna’s was close to a Skyrail station, which was the best bet for John’s choice…

But technically, it was the victim’s locker he was looking for. The crime scene was closer to the red line, but it was possible. Bruce recalled seeing a gym around the same area, but it would be harder to get to.

That said, he didn’t really see the joke in choosing a gym locker. It was rare, but it was logical for a normal person who took the Skyrail often to rent out one of the lockers for longer than a day. Or else they had gotten a copy for a locker they’d rigged to no longer open. And there was something funny about keeping valuables locked up in a public space.

After years of studying the city’s maps and acting as Batman, Bruce knew every back-route in Gotham big enough for his car. Weaving into alleys and side-streets came second-nature.

The Skyrail station was surprisingly quiet for the early morning, with only a few bleary-eyed people hauling up and down the stairs and only one using the old elevator. Bruce suspected that much like regular traffic, it would get a lot busier in about ten or fifteen minutes. He slipped on the pair of aviator sunglasses that John had once again left in the car, hoping no one would recognize him. At least the lockers were at the bottom level.

The little key didn’t have a number stamped on it. There were only so many lockers available, and the station had elected to get rid of the availability lights to prevent theft. Not that it always helped, as evidenced by the obvious dents. He’d have to guess.

John’s choice would probably be 8, as the lockers didn’t go past 30. The crime scene took place in room 12 on the third floor. And the invitation had been stamped on the 19th, the day before yesterday. (Or was it that today was supposed to be significant?)

He decided to try 8 - the key didn’t budge. It would look suspicious to try them all… Since it was truly the victim’s key, it would have to be something they could remember easily. And since Bruce didn’t have so much as a name to go by…

Locker 12 opened with a ka-dink. It was small and square, holding a plain plastic shopping bag with a folder advertising funeral services peeking out on top.

Bruce saw no harm in going through the bag’s contents. He pulled out a thin stack of paper from a manila folder - it looked like the owner (likely the male victim from the crime scene) had sold up most of their stock portfolio over the past few months. The names’ acronyms stood out to him as if he’d dealt with them before, but he couldn’t remember the context.

The name on the trades was different from the bank statement showing some hefty withdrawals from a joint account named for a group. Why ‘Arnold Palmer’ needed another two-hundred thousand dollars from ‘Three Lime Twists’ was an easy thing to guess - he was going to run away.

The paper trail John had laid out was just that; if the ‘Three Lime Twists’ group were set to get revenge and their money back, then they must’ve discovered where it all went. The natural thing would’ve been to put it in the wife’s account, but that normally wouldn’t be accessible to anyone else - and it would be quite difficult to check, despite the number and bank looking legitimate…

The folder from The Balm of Our Hearts held flyers for different services and plot availability in Gotham’s cemeteries, including maps. Nothing was circled, but the significance of including them at all made Bruce’s synapses spark.

Of course… The extracted funds could all be physical. It would be so much like John, who loved finding hiding places, to create such an elaborate one in a place where few people walked and where any shovel work would seem natural.

As for what exactly was buried and in which cemetery… I’m going to have to do some digging, he thought, feeling a smile tug on his lips. Heh… John would’ve loved that.

The only other item in the bag was a small black jewelry box with Noir Velours stamped on it - a top of the line jeweler that Bruce had used himself.

He was half-surprised to see an actual ring in it. A sapphire almost as large as his fingernail shone in-between what may have been black spinel on a platinum band that seemed too thick and large for a woman's hand. In fact, it looked like it would fit him.

Could the male victim from the apartment have been planning on running away with a man? Maybe that was why the killer didn’t stop by the locker - the wife didn’t know about it. Outside of the fact that they couldn’t have been able to anyway, as they only existed as an idea in this game… The idea of the male vic’ planning to kill his wife wasn’t off the table yet.

Or maybe the killer was some kind of third member of the relationship who decided he’d had enough…? But then again, the dinner table would’ve been set for three…

Maybe he was overthinking the ring’s purpose. It could be a clue just by itself: an expensive piece of jewelry kept out of the way from the apartment. Which meant it would have had to go elsewhere, and the most convenient place for it was the stop along the way.

And considering the few leads he had, it was likely the same cemetery Bruce would have to go dig in.

Bruce shut the locker and began the short trek back to the car, bag in hand, feeling a buzz of excitement still prickle in his brain despite knowing he’d soon have to face the reality waiting for him in his office.

🜃

The Agency were being subtle this time, at least. He would’ve hardly recognized Iman’s old partner in the casual business suit if it weren’t for his shoes; hard caps for the toes were difficult to slim down in any design.

“Mr. Wayne, glad you could join us,” Agent Vernon Blake greeted as Bruce shut the conference room door behind him. Iman Avesta was seated at the large conference table in a navy blue pantsuit. The room was otherwise empty.

“Looks like this is a private party,” Bruce commented dryly, “Where’s our security personnel? The other department heads?”

“We’ve already discussed the necessary precautions to be taken with your security teams,” Agent Blake said, “This debriefing is just for you and Miss Avesta. She insisted on briefing everyone else separately.”

Thank Iman for small favors, Bruce thought, mouthing ‘thank you’ as he walked around Agent Blake’s back. He’d hate to have the rest of the company side-eying him for what he presumed was another by-product of a criminal association. He could practically hear the clucking about low stocks and bad publicity from the board, who already were tempted to axe him for his engagement announcement alone.

“To get straight to the point,” Agent Blake said, swiping his tablet (from one of the Wayne’s own tech divisions, Bruce noticed) to cast the projection of his screen to the television on the wall, “we’re here because of your association with Victor Fries.”

The meeting room’s extra-wide screen showed a screen-capture of security footage taken from the basement of the SANCTUS facility, where Bruce could be seen talking to a newly-infected Victor behind the glass of the temperature-controlled chamber.

“Since you effectively saved him from the LOTUS virus, Mr. Fries had been in our custody.”

Had. The word stuck out like a clean window in the Narrows. Bruce knew exactly where this was going. “And now he’s escaped.”

Agent Blake glanced at him. “Yes.” The image changed to footage of what looked like a laboratory. Victor Fries, still clad in his red goggles and metallic low-temperature suit, bore a familiar collar around his neck that was undoubtedly fitted with explosives. “We allowed him to continue working on the cure for his wife’s illness in exchange for us studying his body’s incubation of LOTUS. At approximately 1:05 this morning -”

In the video, everything happened at once: the chemical vials on the table in the background exploded, causing another scientist and the armed guard in the corner to scramble to put it out while Victor made a dash for the door.

“- Mr. Fries caused a lab accident.”

The bubbling beaker Victor had been working with exploded with something white-hot, and the camera footage switched to a hallway, showing Victor throwing his collar aside and slipping into a large door.

“He somehow managed to fix the features of his suit we’d disabled and froze off his restraining collar. He broke into the testing room, froze two of our technicians, and escaped with a prototype freeze-ray and Nora Fries’ cryo-tube.”

Bruce watched as a group of security personnel dashed down the hall, only to get frozen in place by what looked like a ray gun straight off a 50’s pulp novel. Victor wheeled his wife’s frozen holding tank behind him.

“How did he leave the facility?” Iman asked as the image was replaced with an aerial map of Gotham.

Agent Blake tapped his thumb on the edge of the tablet and pursed his lips. “He stole one of our transport trucks and froze the controls for the doors on his way out. He ditched the truck and stole a rental van from a gas station while the driver was getting a lottery ticket.”

Bruce studied the map. All of the city’s warehouses, factories, and laboratory buildings with cold room storage were marked with red dots. Naturally, Wayne Enterprises’ had their pharmaceutical manufacturing facility in the mix, but Wayne Tower was also marked. “Why do you think he’d come here?” Bruce asked, already knowing the answer.

“Victor Fries is not in his right mind anymore, Mr. Wayne. The LOTUS virus has affected him the same way it affected Edward Nygma.” Agent Blake met Iman’s gaze with a look Bruce could only attribute to regret and comradery through the memory of their last case together. “You may have betrayed him in the Pact, but you practically saved his life. He might try to get your help.”

Bruce wasn’t so sure of that. The man was a natural-born loner, only working with the Pact out of necessity. Much like Bruce himself. And he knew Victor was too intelligent to try to seek him out. He’d be far more likely to leave him alone out of gratitude.

“And I’m assuming The Agency would like my help.”

Agent Blake avoided looking at him or Iman, but stared down at the tablet as he typed something. “We’d like your cooperation, Mr. Wayne. If Victor Fries makes any attempt at contact with you, we’d like to know about it. And naturally,” he added, his focus returning to Bruce’s hard stare, “we’ve already negotiated all necessary access with your security team for the suspected locations under your name.”

“What about the other Pact members?” Iman asked, keeping her hands folded on the table. “Do you think he’ll try to engage them at all?”

“They’re not a concern,” the agent waved away, “We’ve already checked with Blackgate Prison. Dr. Harleen Quinzel and ‘Bane’ are in secure wings and haven’t received any correspondence from anyone besides their legal representation - which we’ve naturally crosschecked. Even if he could contact them, we can’t see any reason to. We don’t feel any sufficient motive for him contacting John Doe, either.”

“Napier,” Bruce corrected. “And he betrayed the Pact, too; by helping me.”

“We’re well aware of your relationship, Mr. Wayne.” The meeting room monitor reverted back to its default image of the Wayne Enterprises logo. “As I’m sure you’re aware of how precious time is in these cases. If you or any of your associates find Mr. Fries before we do,” he emphasized with a hard stare back at Bruce as he slipped a contact card on the table, “it’s in everyone’s best interest to alert us first. The battery powering his suit only lasts so long; and when it runs out, he’ll become highly infectious.”

Bruce knew what would happen if he rejected any of this: he would not only get tailed anyway, but Amanda Waller would have another reason to spill his secret at the nearest opportunity. He ignored the childish urge to tear up the card, sliding it into his breast pocket instead. He’d have to check it and his car later for any tracking devices.

“Vernon,” Iman added with an unexpected softness, “I know you can’t tell me any details, but… Just how useful is Victor Fries to the Agency?”

The agent lost the firm look he had with Bruce. He didn’t answer straight away. “It depends on who you ask,” he said slowly. “If you went to Waller, she’d say he was top priority. Anderson and Duchovny would say differently.” Agent Blake closed the tablet case with a sense of finality. “You know where you can reach me,” he said, directed far more at Iman than at Bruce.

The door clicked shut. “Those names mean anything to you?”

“Two associate directors in the Agency,” Iman explained, propping her chin on her folded hands. “They were never Waller’s biggest fans, but they keep quiet when she gets results. The fact that she’s desperate to have Fries back says whatever research they have into the incubating LOTUS isn’t conclusive.”

“That freeze-gun he had was different from the one he had before,” Bruce added, “They must be reverse-engineering his weapons, too.”

“That wouldn’t be worth hunting him down over.”

“No, but it might be part of it. Waller’s not one for letting things go.”

Iman leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms in thought. “I’d be surprised if she wasn’t in the city, at least. I doubt she’d give someone the opportunity to slip up on re-capturing one of her projects if it was this important to her.”

That was if they could really take Agent Blake at his word. Iman seemed to trust him, but how much of that was an old sense of comradery versus actual reason?

“Oh, speaking of,” Iman added, turning to him, “you got here later than I thought you’d be. Did something happen?”

Bruce didn’t see any reason in telling her the truth. He wasn’t sure how much she or Tiffany knew about the game John had created, but he couldn’t picture either of them encouraging it in any way. “Sorry. I just had to make a quick stop,” he answered, unable to banish the image of Joker grinning at him from the old television screen.

“Oh. I thought you might have been dropping off John. I doubted he’d want to be alone at the manor with the Agency in town…”

Bruce brought up his own map of the city on his phone, marking the same locations the Agency had marked as potential hideouts for Fries. “He’s hitching a ride to work with Tiffany. Can you give me a patch into the camera system for WE RX?”

“You want it direct? I could just get you a web login.”

“Direct is easier if I’m going to be watching several locations at once,” Bruce explained, standing to retreat to his office for a few moments before he would get stuck at the next meeting on his calendar. “We need to find him before they can.”

“Not that I don’t agree, but for which reason in particular?”

The Agency had already been treating Fries like a captured animal; and while it was true Bruce didn’t want to know what they would do to him upon his recapture, true that he didn’t want the virus he’d worked to eliminate have a chance to return, and that there may have been a crumb of truth in not wanting to be beaten to the punch by the likes of them…

It was the sticking point about Fries that Harley Quinn had summed up rather succinctly, once. “Because as someone once put it, the only thing he gives two hoots about is his wife,” Bruce quoted, mimicking Harley’s voice without her clear tone of disdain. “Either Victor found a cure for Nora Fries, or he’s missing something to finish it. And Waller won’t care what happens to her if they take him back.”

“I’m glad we’re thinking alike,” Iman said with a slight smile, “It reminds me of why I volunteered for the Pact case to begin with, Batman.” Iman tugged her suit straight. “I should be able to patch you into the camera feed in about fifteen minutes. Robin’s cracking program should make quick work of the other feeds; I’ll take half of them if you want.”

“That’d be a huge help,” Bruce said honestly, “I’m going to check for any abandoned cold rooms that weren’t marked on that map. I doubt Fries will want to make too much of a scene.”

Iman gave a single, sardonic little hah. “Between our team and this city’s penchant for themed criminals, that would certainly make a nice change.”

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

Notes:

I really wanted to finish this piece before the end of 2023. That did not go as planned. (Then again, that last third of the year took a weird-ass turn, and I’m still trying to navigate myself back to the road.) I have a little over half of the next chapter done because it was originally going to be here, but then I realized I hated having to backtrack scenes and then skip around, so it was easier to just make things in the proper order, even if the sudden character switching would be a little weird to “play”. Season 4 sure was easier!

Onto funner stuff: Bruce has no real choice in following Joker’s game. He just pretends he does. At least his reasoning in the villainous path makes a tad more sense... And speaking of, “your” choices at the end could lead to telling Iman about Joker’s murder-game, regardless of his status with the Bat-fam. The villain!Joker path would naturally cause Iman to be concerned about both you and the city, but in our vigilante!Joker path, you’d get a special relationship notification: “Iman Avesta is judging you pretty hard right now.”

And lastly, a super-special-awesome thank you to @spring-roe on tumblr for this sweet fanart! ( ͒ ́ඉ .̫ ඉ ̀ ͒)

#the perseverance project #fangs of ouroboros #telltale batjokes #telltale batman #juce #batman the telltale series #the enemy within #batjokes #bruce wayne #GUESS WHO'S BACK #(back again)#the agency #iman avesta #Achievement: Iman Is Judging You So Hard #I have so many little jokes in this one :3c #circulate the links

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raincode-archives · 11 months ago

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Chapter 5 Character Profile Descriptions

Yuma Kokohead A Trainee Detective with amnesia. His small build is unsuitable for physical confrontation. A lack of self-confidence results in a tendency to frequently complain. However, he posses a strong sense of justice and selflessly tries to help anyone in need.

After exposing the truth behind the incident at the Amaterasu lab, he took Yakou's life with his own hands. Though filled with anguish, he remembered Yakou's last words, and vowed to lay bare the truth behind Kanai Ward, however cruel it may be.

Yakou Furio A Kanai Ward native and head of the Nocturnal Detective Agency. He lives in an unhealthy, unkempt, and unsanitary lifestyle. He understands the thread the Amaterasu Corporation Peacekeepers pose, but only thinks of how to avoid them. Even so, he cares a great deal for his companions.

In order to avenge his wife who was murdered four years ago, Yakou sacrificed his life to murder Dr. Huesca at Amaterasu's lab.

Halara Nightmare A Master Detective dispatched to the Nocturnal Detective Agency by the World Detective Organization. The sharp-witted and attractive detective has no specified gender. Halara is always cool under fire and has solved many difficult cases through precise judgement. Although Halara only believes in money, it's willingly spend on things deemed necessary.

Halara's Forte is Postcognition, the ability to see how a crime scene appeared at the time it was first discovered.

Halara stayed by Yakou's side as he lied dying in the Amaterasu lab, and tried to keep him alive until Yuma and the others returned.

After seeing Number One's contempt for Yakou's death, Halara voiced strong emotions not typically shown.

Desuhiko Thunderbolt A Master Detective dispatched to the Nocturnal Detective Agency by the World Detective Organization. His goal is to become famous as a mystery-solving superstar detective. He's an optimistic ladies' man whose "investigations" usually entail trying to pick up girls around the city. These attempts are rarely successful due to his goofball nature, though he doesn't mind. Uncomfortable around blood and corpses, he prefers undercover investigations to those involving murder.

After providing him the opportunity to sneak around Aetheria Academy, he began referring to Yuma as "my man."

His Forte is Disguise, the ability to change his voice, appearance, and build, visually and mentally masquerading as the targeted person. The backpack he always carries is required to use this ability.

After seeing Number One's contempt for Yakou's death following the Amaterasu lab incident, he nearly exploded with rage and disgust.

Fubuki Clockford A Master Detective dispatched to the Nocturnal Detective Agency by the World Detective Organization. Although she's a beauty with outstanding style, her airheaded tendencies can frustrate the people she talks to. She ran away from her pampered life as a lady of the world-famous Clockford family to seek adventure.

While solving the Mystery Labyrinth, she lashed out at what she thought was the abhorrent "God of Darkness." She later realized that Shinigami had Yuma's complete confidence and tried to befriend the death god.

Her Forte is Time Leap, the ability to rewind time and redo things. However, if time has been turned back once, it cannot be turned back beyond that point.

Desperate to save the dying Yakou during the Amaterasu lab incident, she repeatedly turned back time. But unable to go back to before he was attacked, she felt utterly helpless.

Upon Yakou's death, she wailed uncontrollably.

Vivia Twilight A Master Detective dispatched to the Nocturnal Detective Agency by the World Detective Organization. He has pale skin and an aesthetic atmosphere about him. Often lying down in various places, his personality can be described as self-indulgent.

His Forte is Spectral Projection, the ability to maneuver in a ghost form free of his flesh, ignoring the laws of physics. In addition to being completely invisible in this state, he is able to pass straight through walls and other solid objects.

Having enjoyed the time spend at the agency with Yakou, he refused to let the truth of Dr. Huesca's murder come to light despite knowing the identity of the culprit. He turned against Yuma inside the Mystery Labyrinth, but after witnessing Yuma's resolve to face even the most bitter facts, he decided to expose the truth.

When he found out Yomi was manipulating Yakou, he felt immense frustration and hatred.

Number One Head of the World Detective Organization. His true name is unknown, and he is almost never seen in public.

After the destruction of the WDO building, his whereabouts are unknown.

Yomi Hellsmile The director of the Amaterasu Corporation Peacekeepers. Despite having the face of a handsome young ma, he is cold-hearted and cruel, finding joy in the misfortune of others, especially from miseries he devised himself. He holds great power within Amaterasu and treats his underlings like expendable tools.

He conspired with Dr. Huesca to secretly make deals with corporations outside of Kanai Ward, but when the doctor double-crossed him, Yomi spurred Yakou into murdering him. After capturing Yuma and the others, Yomi planned to bury them along with the truth, but Makoto appeared with incriminating documents that led to Yomi's downfall. He was then arrested and taken away by Martina.

Martina Electro The vice director of the Amaterasu Corporation Peacekeepers. A tall, elegant, intelligent, bespectacled woman who ruthlessly crushes the opposition and has no mercy for those who defy her.

Makoto saved her moments before her execution, and she sought to deliver judgement on Yomi for his crimes.

After all of Yomi's misdeeds were revealed and he was arrested, Martina took responsibility for her own complicity, resigned from her position, and left.

Makoto Kagutsuchi The always-masked CEO of Amaterasu Corporation. He lives on the top floor of Kanai Tower. While Yomi is ostensibly his employee, the two are always at each other's throats. His tendency to speak in riddles make it difficult to ascertain his true nature, but he seems to have ulterior motives.

Acting in secret behind the scenes of the Dr. Huesca murder case, he secured documents that lead to Yomi's downfall. He intends to restructure Amaterasu and the Peacekeepers to bring about a change in the winds of Kanai Ward.

The gift he gave Yuma caused all the Master Detectives gathered at the Nocturnal Detective Agency to pass out.

Dr. Huesca Chief researcher and expert weapons developer at Amaterasu Lab. An arrogant man who believes his intellect is unrivaled. He hates having his precious research time interrupted and allows no one to enter his critical labs.

He colluded with Peacekeeper Director Yomi to secretly sell off Amaterasu technology, planning all the while to double-cross Yomi and flee Kanai Ward. Attempting to use the turmoil caused by the hitman to fake his own demise, he was instead stabbed and killed by Yakou, who sought revenge for his murdered wife.

Yomi prompted Yakou to commit the murder in order to get rid of the backstabbing Dr. Huesca while keeping his own hands clean.

Fink the Slaughter Artist A skilled assassin who works in Kanai Ward. As very few witnesses have come forward, it's unknown if this hitman is male or female, an adult or even a child. The assassin is certainly effective, boasting a 100% completion rate.

Fink was hired by Yakou, with Yakou himself as the target. Yakou asked the hitman to kill him to hide his involvement as the murderer of Dr. Huesca.

Behind the scenes, Makoto arranged for Yakou to hire the hitman. Makoto permanently silence the hitman once his work was complete. (Acquired by interacting with zombified Fink?)

#mdarc #master detective archives rain code #rain code #raincode #rain code archives #yuma kokohead #yakou furio #halara nightmare #desuhiko thunderbolt #fubuki clockford #vivia twilight #number one #yomi hellsmile #martina electro #makoto kagutsuchi #dr huesca

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tsukiyadori · 5 months ago

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Reading (+Watching+Listening) Log 2024.06 - June

Previous: Reading Log 2024.05 - May

Pouty pout. (A tier.)

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Reading languages: German, English, French, Japanese, not listing which was what. (There’s also been some feeble attempts at Chinese, but that was more on music.)

Titles are as I’ve read them either first or most and thus remember it for that title mostly

Not going to bother putting in the original titles of translated reads unless there is something worthy of note to it

Cursive titles have been completed

If it says a volume number, it may mean it has been finished or is still in progress

Some notes’ content may be subject to repetition here and there, as I also copied some older notes from casual conversations over and didn’t go through any rounds of cutting things down.

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JUNE

I kinda feel out from reading stuff on the apps daily

and keeping up online serialized chapter releases has been a mess, too...

Maybe I need to do statistics on the JNC slices of the monthly readings, I definitely keep busy chasing deadlines and then not manage to read it all anyway.

No An Archdemon's Dilemma: How to Love Your Elf Bride has been read this month, but due to cascading little incidents at a certain place Chastille has kind of become my alter ego and… I have not much to argue against it…

In terms of single franchise, this month's probably mostly dominated by Spice and Wolf/Wolf and Parchment.

Also decided to add a bit of a music section, considering how much time I was busy chasing lyrics and trying to read those (This will get some overlap with the months prior.)

There's been one single anime entry this time, and it's just a KyoAni ad...

I also kind of fell of from the Comikey and Manga Up readings....

Something else of a major time sucker activity started this month, which is the ominous ((classified)), but that'll probably take until the end of the year to unclassify.

Anime:

ショート版【京都アニメーション ×「紫式部ゆかりのまち宇治」PR動画】「うじには物語がある」

Light Novels/Web Novels/Novels:

Brunhild v3p2 Chillin’ in Another World with Level 2 Super Cheat Powers v1p1-5(ch2 finished) Fushi no Kami v1 Goodbye, Overtime! This Reincarnated Villainess Is Living for Her New Big Brother (Light Novel) v1 How to Survive as a Villain Novel ch236 Spice & Wolf v23-24 The Apothecary Witch Turned Divorce Agent v1p1-v2p8 The Disowned Queen’s Consulting Detective Agency v1 Wolf and Parchment v6-v8 ((classified))

Manga:

8th Loop for the Win! With Seven Lives’ Worth of XP and the Third Princess’s Appraisal Skill, My Behemoth and I Are Unstoppable! (Manga) ch11 A Livid Lady's Guide to Getting Even: How I Crushed My Homeland with My Mighty Grimoires (Manga) v2ch7-12 All you want, whenever you want Ano Natsu ga Houwa suru. ch18 Anti Alpha Buta no Liver wa Kanetsushiro v2ch6-11, ch36.3-4 Cooking With Wild Game (Manga) v9ch44-48 Dahlia lässt den Kopf nicht hängen v1 Daijuukou to Unicornis no Otome ch16.1 Dead Mount Death Play v7 Domestic na Kanojo v12-13 Duchess in the Attic (Manga) ch1, v2ch7-12, ch13-14 Goodbye, Overtime! This Reincarnated Villainess Is Living for Her New Big Brother (Manga) v1 Harebare Biyori ch24 I'm a Noble on the Brink of Ruin, So I Might as Well Try Mastering Magic (Manga) v1ch6 Isekai de Ane ni Namae wo Ubawaremashita ch19.1, ch20.1 Kakan no Oukoku no Hanagirai Hime ch13.4-14(finale) Knitter's High ch28.1-3 Küsse & Schüsse v1-2 Mr. Mallow Blue ch30 My Daughter Left the Nest and Returned an S-Rank Adventurer (Manga) ch1, ch6, ch11, v4ch16-20 Only I Know that This World Is a Game ch1, ch6, ch11, v4ch16-19 Rebuild World (Manga) ch1, ch5, v8ch35-39 Sakura, Saku v4 Shuumatsu Touring ch38.4 The 6th Loop: I'm Finally Free of Auto Mode in this Otome Game ch11.1-2 The Eternal Fool's Words of Wisdom: A Pawsitively Fantastic Adventure (Manga) v1ch1-6 The Frontier Lord Begins with Zero Subjects (Manga) ch1, v4ch16-20 The Magic in this Other World is Too Far Behind! (Manga) v1-v10ch50 The Unwanted Undead Adventurer (Manga) v11ch49-53 Unnamed Memory ch37.2 Watashi wo Tabetai, Hitodenashi Watatabe3

Webtoons:

The Silent Concubine ch33-122 Silent Lover (Silent Concubine alt. Counting) ch142-192(S2ch1-50) Taberare Usa ch106-109 To be or not be ch102

Music:

Just a selection of those that left the most impression, had me check out its lyrics and/or popped up high in the replay count.

雨霖铃 (Bells Ringing in the Rain) by 喵☆酱 (Miao Jiang)

笼中雀 (Caged Bird) by 喵☆酱 (Miao Jiang)

鴻音 (Resonant Sounds) by Sa Dingding

浮光 (Floating Lights) by Zhou Shen (周深), Jannik and some endless amounts of cover versions

The Blue Whisper OST - 鮫人之歌 (電視劇《與君初相識》片尾曲) by Zhou Shen

The Blue Whisper OST -魚躍而上 (電視劇《與君初相識》自由主題曲) by Sa Dingding/Mao Buyi

Solo Leveling OST - aikari

Notes:

How to Survive as a Villain Novel ch236 - After dragging it for weeks on end I finally finished reading the last chapter… that I had read before though gap jumping anyway. It's been a while where I simultaneously had an urge to read on asap while also not wanting to finish it at all. Anyway, some when next month or after that official Singapore English edition is coming, very curious how that translation will look like without any so many annotations.

Wolf and Parchment v6-v8: Volume 6 seems them with their newfound 'official relationship' that bubbles in and out and is perfectly tailored to them, especially Myuri. Hyland's being a complete fangirl of it is a nice touch, otherwise the whole case was interesting mystery and likely that cat is the same as from S&W is it? Some more real life history modelled things also got added, but the twist with the bears is interesting. The author speaks of three pillars he has to juggle, that of the overarching world lore, the characters and the plot of the current volume, while S&W he had pulled the former into a backseat. That also very much explains, why I had so many starting troubles with this one. The World Lore takes a good 4 vols to build up to have their first payoffs to feed back into the plot, and frankly the two characters only got more interesting from v5 onwards. Too bad I paused this for years after v4, which I remember to be more of a slog than not. Interestingly, that was also the volume the author had struggled a lot with, apparently. Volume 7: This volume starts with a really really cool passage from the conversation between Col and Clark:

Now, doesn't that kinda sound familiar. Espcially that last line nails it rather well.

This is kind of awesome. Not your usual bog-standard love bla bla is what changes the world, but this something that can't be named, this siblings like family, but that doesn't hit it, it's also not lovers, and whatever it is called, in the end one can only default to it as the umbrella term, but it is NOT what you'd usually think about it. The series definitely places a lot of importance to this something and this volume is so far the epitome with realizations sinking in just how important it is to them and then it culminates in the epilogue with Col being like, he's not planning to marry her, but he wants her by her side regardless. And he wants to make sure of it. In a form of equal side by sides, so if he's the Twilight Cardinal now, there he goes and makes it so, that she's going to be celebrated as a saint by his side. And it's all so cleverly weaved into the plot at hand about the wanting to be heroes, the inability to do so, but still wanting to dream about it in stories, and also the pieces fall into place for S&W's timeline as well. And it's not like it's denying your usual idea of relationship and under that world – after all, Holo and Lawrence are right there in their own series holding a spotlight and Col got his faith out of their love rather than anything else. Volume 8 however… seems a bit on the nose starting with the red string on the cover and the plot line in this volume unfortunately is a bit… well, the world is interesting, Canaan is a bundle of charm to bustle everything up and the wrap up to have the new continent plot line in is neatly resolved, but the sheer amount of folly in there…. Myuri, what are you doing? After everything last volume, you go and be all worried? Why the hell are you? Col at least even points out at just how OOC it all is for her.

Spice & Wolf v23-24: Speaking of those two's series, their antics… actually do start to get a little bit old. I dunno, maybe it's because it was getting slightly repetitive? like v24 is definitely a good plot, but the plotline twist is essentially the same as that previous short story about the regional lord that doesn't want to fell the forest, but is stuck between and rock and a hard place. Otherwise… Now that W&P has given a glimpse of how cool the overarching world lore can be S&W is starting to feel just a little pale in comparison. But as a companion it's really nice, how it picks up the pebbled behind Col and Myuri. It's just you really notice that by now Spring Log has a clear side story character to it. Also, I've had these weird impressions for a while now, but Eve and that Umbrella girl kinda smell a bit GL-ish and I do wonder if there's gonna be some plot around the desert after all. (Even if W&P v8 tries hard to deny it.)

The Apothecary Witch Turned Divorce Agent v1p1-v2p8: This has been pretty funny, and her groaning about failures in basically Anti-Cheese-Work, but also, she can't begrudge the happy ends for the couples where a thing I could feel so much, there is one obvious question to, how come people haven't come to her yet in hopes of the opposite, like they all seem to seriously want the break-up rather than her shaking things up to actually fix it.

((classified)) v1 first third: Well, not much that I can say as of yet, beyond: This MC gives me quite a few aroace vibes going by some thoughts and comments here and there, and I am going to be very curious how this is gonna play out. I expect it's going to be more of a late bloomer thing and the whole series is to be very very slow burn in that regard, with many other things on the forefront. But let's see.

Domestic na Kanojo v12-13: The whatever it is continues, and it seems to have reaches some lulls, which are mostly bolstered up by pouts from Miss little sister. Otherwise, Mr. Wannabe English guy remains punch worthy. What do you mean you'd not make her cry, as opposed to Natsuo? You merely tried to rape her, sure, you'd never make her cry. =V Miss twin tails also is like… sad to see. Where did your self dignity go?

Duchess in the Attic (Manga) ch1, v2ch7-12, ch13-14: We have another badass strong female MC, my ears are all perked! I mean, just look at this glare of dignity!

Now the LN just has to come. (Spoiler: it got licensed right the month after early July by the time I am writing this up.)

Sakura, Saku v4: It feels a bit like it tried to do a Kieta Hatsukoi and I will say it did it well enough. It also has a wholesome message and all, but somehow, I dunno. It's not bad, it plays the surprise out well, too, and it's in character of the cast, but it just seems a bit. Not having a charm of its own about it. I dunno. The whole series is down to earth 'normal' sorts of, but compared to the aforementioned KieHatsu, it had more individualistic 'character' or so about it. Not sure how to phrase it.

The Silent Concubine ch33-122: Erm. Ok. What. Was. That. I maintain the beginning as written up last month is still so, and it's rather nice to have this uke fate doomed Shen Yu have his own agency and even using the help of the emperor who got smitten with him, while he is now quite the rationalist to know first come gains. Ok. He was described as bewitchingly beautiful, so people arguing over him isn't maybe that out of place. The whole background story about his lineage and the extra finger knuckle was either lacking in exposition to begin with or the translation has missed out something? It kinda came half out of nowhere. That Shen Yu seems fed up enough to go for suicide knowing how anyone else is just this more powerful than him, him still being poisoned, and his mother is gone anyway, also makes sense. But like, you make him the descendant of a line of former royals that doomed themselves for inbreeding and incest which would even give a reason for his disability also seems plausible. But then, oh, it's psychological and oh, not only does he survive his suicide attempt, but his chronic poisoning is gone, and suddenly he's also not mute anymore. And it kind of completely topples the power dynamic over. And then goes that Chu clan and, uh, Mister new Emperor just goes to be his bodyguard somewhere hidden who knows where. Man's got some priorities, despite knowing the instable the state of things are. And then, right, he's gonna be the only one he marries. How to solve this? Oh, hey look, that ancient clever Chu clan has developed a concoction of a birthing potion (that only works on the clan). And then it still works when it's not both of them of the clan, well, way to how he has to remain the uke. And then there's his blood relative of a from around a few corners who wants to woo him, too. (Tho more for form's sake.) Erm. Okay. I guess. Something Omega in Ancient China. And then suddenly there is a side dish romance that seems to have completely bubbled in the background only to come and be all like oh well, they knew themselves from childhood and. Whatever. It just feels rather contrived a lot of times in the second half.

Silent Lover (Silent Concubine) S2 alt. Counting ch142-192(S2ch1-50): So, morbid curiosity brought me to season 2, and it's a sequel with the next generation, the son of the Main couple of S1 and the adopted son of the side dish couple. I have to say, I am almost amazed at how completely brazenly it goes and rehashes S1's plot line. With not much sense at places. So there's another arranged marriage, but like his adopted father is the right hand of the emperor and they are on good terms, his other father (who kind of never showed up, is he dead?) used to be a good friend of that emperor's spouse that is the other MC's birthing parent. That and that he is a brilliant scholar of his own with status and family pedigree should give him the means to stand his ground. Doesn't seem to matter. Well, maybe he is just timid. But somehow despite the series even having the galls to joke about how the MC's parent's tale is a cautionary tale and them knowing that their son is a bundle of a folly, nobody ever shows him the ropes properly. So he's just being all abusive again. There is another rival for the MC who is all super mean and anything, but just winds up dead along the way. Instead of poisoning, MC winds up suddenly having an oh so very dangerous blood illness on top of his weak disposition. Oh hey, turns out he's actually of the lineage of the previous emperor. Oh, also, he's been super in love with his abusive arranged marriage partner until there was too much abuse for him to call it quits. Also gets tortured and his hand crushed and disabled. Gets wooed by the prince of a foreign land. Oh, and there's a murder attempt to the emperor, how come S1's MC suddenly has vanished completely after showing up just a bit to be all pouty and everything? And isn't the prince the Chu clan bloodline descendant and crown prince, like probably that birthing potion would work on him, too, but of course as a clone of his emperor father he's gotta be the seme character yet again. - ????

Well, as I got so little read this month some music babbling 雨霖铃 (Bells Ringing in the Rain) by 喵☆酱 (Miao Jiang): It started with that little chapter title from How to Survive as a Villain that is quoting a line of a poem by Liu Yong (984-1053 AD). 今宵酒醒何处？ "Where will I be, when I wake from my drunken stupor at dawn?" That poem has by now grown on me. Technically, apparently the inspiration was the author having to have to leave his lover, but the text itself is on a more abstract level of simply a separation to foreign lands. Googling that led me to the first result that is a youtube song with a dance and a cover of it, that is from the soundtrack of a game named 逆水寒 (nisuihan, "cold against the current"), which for whatever reason is called "Justice Online" in English. (How'd you get from one name to the other??) Not that I noticed that at first, both song videos are incredibly traditional styled and the dance by Tang Shiyi is definitely quite pretty. (And I mean, the video is from the CHINA NATIONAL OPERA AND DANCE THEATER??) It took me a deal of digging until I even found the singer's name, which had me go ????, because, it basically means Meow ☆ Sauce. That so far was still in April, but the song rather stuck and then there was also this other song from the artist and yet another song to that same game I came to kinda like.

鴻音 (Resonant Sounds) by Sa Dingding - that popped out in the playlist of the channel, and there's another dance by Tang Shiyi also to a song of the Nishuihan game. No poem, but it kinda sounds the epic tune style. And the dance video is also something. (The match cuts in particular left an impression.)

笼中雀 (Caged Bird) by 喵☆酱 (Miao Jiang) - No poem again, but the mood reminds me of Bells ringing in the rain. The lyrics of this and Resonant Sounds do sound a bit cheese, while Bells could arguably be about any sort of seperation. By here this had reached May and I was getting into that whole soundtrack of that game, which by all means has a good few of nice tracks. And while I was at that, I found this.

浮光 (Floating Lights) by Zhou Shen (周深), Jannik the original intrumental version and some endless amounts of cover versions both vocal and intrumental and dance videos - Apparantely the nishuihan game has some sorta feature where you get to replay some tunes or something? And this song was one of it? Or I don't know. In any case in some playlist the instrumental song by Jannik sat on top as the first track and it immediately struck a chord. The name is suspiciously Western tho (going by the discography they're probably even German??), but googling that you get a Chinese Baidu Baike Wiki page, which then talks about the vocal version by Zhou Shen, which struck even a bigger chord. That had me look up the lyrics and since Zhou Shen is a rather famous artist, it has some lyrics translation videos. Except.

So nostalgia and doubts are kinda the same thing, aha.

Or how about we just leave the word out completely?

This is what the dictionary has to say about the word btw.:

This sounds like a sort of saudade x nostalgia x hiraeth x natsukashii with touches and yet it's own thing, as baike explains it as "the unwillingness/reluctance to leave something or to let it go" as its first meaning and the second being "cherished memories (怀念) directed towards passed days" (which kinda sounds more natsukashii than nostalgia). And that is incredily interesting, but I am bewildered how this turned into 'doubts' of all things? By now it was end of May and now plans to study Chinese are plainly up on the table again. I just don't yet now how to best go about it.

For the time being… The Blue Whisper OST - 鮫人之歌 (電視劇《與君初相識》片尾曲) by Zhou Shen The Blue Whisper OST -魚躍而上 (電視劇《與君初相識》自由主題曲) by Sa Dingding/Mao Buyi June was loop the above and starting to go through a whole bunch of Chinese music (well mostly nishuihan and Zhou Shen) and this one's lyrics caught me again. Like 魚躍而上 starts with something like "Every pair of eyes is fish". Me: ????? Maybe I need to watch that The Blue Whisper drama to get it, but then it also looks incredibly cheese everything and… Also, do you know the agony of you kinda liked a song just by its song and then it just turns out to be all cheese lyrics once you look them up?? It kinda felt like a curse. =V

一梦惊鸿 by 黄诗扶 (Huang Shifu): There was also this one, which popped through the recommendations box and picked my eyes through a really nice dance video.

Solo Leveling OST - aikari: I'm not exactly sure why peculiarly this one picked my ears, haven't even watched the anime, but it was strangely loop-able.

#reading #watching #listening #reading log #watching log #listening log #statistics #wolf and parchment #spice and wolf #classified #sakura saku #the silent concubine #duchess in the attic #bells ringing in the rain #nishuihan #zhou shen #sa dingging #the apothecary witch turned divorce agent #domestic girlfriend

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