#the silly detective world! i’ll never escape

[whatifitwasgttho]

they are NOT! doing detective work…………

hosah and teddy : @imvenusasaboy

thierri : @insanit3a

[artzee-bee]

Not going anywhere | Lucifer Morningstar x reader

Fandom: Lucifer

Request:” Hi i have request for you ,Lucifer and the reader have a big fight they are married, and this fight it's lucifer fault The reader leaves home and Lucifer decides to give her space After a few days, he goes to the reader and realizes that she has been missing for a few days,When the person behind all this claims that the reader is dead and gives them a her body . Everyone thinks that the reader is dead and Lucifer He gets depressed and thinks it's all his fault , and after a few days, the thieves release the singer and the reader goes to Lucifer.Lucifer first thinks it is an imagination and then apologizes to the reader Thank you so much”

Genre: Angst with happy ending

Warnings: kidnapping, death

~~~

Your intention had never been to start a fight. All you wanted an explanation (preferably one that also made sense) and an apology, but apparently that was too much to ask, because as soon as you voiced your opinion, Lucifer went up in flames

“Don’t start this again!”

“I dislike it just as much as you do but what I hate more is being cancelled on, AGAIN, through a text message no less!”

“It was an emergency!”

“It’s always an emergency Lucifer! It’s starting to sound a lot like work means more to you than I do!” “The detective needs me, damn it!” your husband yelled

“And she has you! Every day of every week! All I ask for is one date night and for the past month you’ve done nothing but avoid committing to one or backing out at the last second! I’m tired of being your second choice Lucifer! I’m your wife and you are my husband, I love you to the ends of the world, I just wish you'd say no to Decker from time to time...”

“I’m saving people’s lives Y/N. So if you’re not on your deathbed, other people are and they need me now!” as he said this, Lucifer walked right past you and into your bedroom, seemingly ignorant to the painful words he’d just said. You looked around the living room, vision blurry with tears, your chest heavy with anger and disgust. You rushed towards the elevator.

“When you find time in your busy schedule and feel like being my spouse again, let me know!” the elevator door closed before Lucifer could say anything

~~~

When Lucifer woke up the next morning to a cold and empty bed, he didn’t think much of it.Truthfully, he was still kind of pissed at the attitude you had given him a day before, so he got dressed as usual and went to the precinct, assuming you’ll be home by nightfall.

Except when he got home that night, he stopped by Lux first, which ended up like it always does: with him sucked into an endless cycle of booze and dancing, that lasted until well into the night. When he did enter the penthouse eventually, he found it empty. Exactly the way he had left it in the morning. Even the tie he had left on the floor, after deciding last minute that it didn’t go with his suit, was untouched. Now this was curious, but still, Lucifer felt like you must be playing hard to get. He sent you one text message, before going to bed

“Call me when you can!”

The day after that, he figured his part was done! By reaching out first, he had already made a big compromise, so now it was your turn! To reach out, come home! But that didn’t happen that day, or the day after that.

Three days after the text message,Lucifer was getting worried. He was looking at his phone every other minute. Always making sure he hadn’t accidently put it on silent or missed any texts. He sent more messages, telling you he was sorry and that he wanted you to come home. That he would listen and spend more time with you, promising luxurious dates and weekend trips, if only you forgave him. You didn’t even open the messages.

“Lucifer are you listening?” Decker was insanely annoyed at her partner’s lack of concentration

“Sorry detective. I’ve...I’ve got a lot on my mind”

“Well, better get it out of the way now, so that we can move on to our case!” she said, cleaning out her desk quickly, before resting back into her chair “Talk to me!”

“It’s Y/N. I’m worried about her!”

“Why?” “We...had a fight a couple days ago and she left. She hasn’t come back since”

“Have you heard from her at all?”

“No…” Lucifer said, embarrassed at his own lack of care for you. He should have called you earlier, reached out more! He should have tried harder!

“How long had she been missing for?”

“4...maybe 5 days…”

“Lucifer, are you sane? And you’re only telling me now?!” Chloe jumped from her seat, turning on her computer

“I thought she needed space! I thought she was avoiding me intentionally cause she was angry! I didn’t know…” Lucifer choked back a sob, not wanting to break down in tears in the middle of the precinct

“Lucifer!” Chloe caught hold of his hand “I’m gonna find her! I promise you!” A few days later, she did. Well, more like Y/n came to her, in the shape of a pretty little gift box left on Decker's doorstep.

“A lil too late on your case detective” read the note attached to it. 

Inside were Y/N’s clothes, all of them stained with dark, dried blood. Y/N was declared dead that day and the case was closed. At her funeral, only her closests friends were present. Lucifer wanted it to be as intimate as possible.

That day was also the first time anyone had seen Lucifer, since the news. His eyes were bloodshot and the dark circles under his eyes almost matched the black suit he was wearing. Throughout the ceremony he kept twisting his wedding band, a habit he’d picked up on since you went missing. He chose not to do a speech, but once the crowd disappeared, and he was left face to face with your grave, he pulled out a little piece of paper from his pocket and sat down on the grass.

“In hell, everyone feared me. There, I was nothing but another server of the universe, ruling over an empire I never really wanted, because I never had a choice. So eventually I left, thinking anywhere will be better than what I had, and I came to earth.

I ran into you about 2 weeks later, before I really even knew how to behave myself. Before I knew anything about who I really was besides ‘the devil’. I longed to know, grow and discovers different sides of me, where I could be something new, and you gave it to me. You made me who I never thought I could possibly be. You made me a lover. I never thought of myself as capable to love anyone, in any degree, but your light shone everywhere you went and your kindness touched me and everyone around you. It became impossible to not get infatuated with your person. I allowed you to see and feel around every dark corner of my soul and being and every time I thought it was the end. Everytime I would take in your touch as if it was the last, I would prepare myself for abandonment, but it never came. Through everything you stood by my side and when I felt my darkest, you gave me a fistful of your light and that was enough to keep me going. You married a broken man and called him perfect, despite everyone telling you how much of a foul you were. Even then, you shooed them away. Even then you chose me. I wasn’t worthy of your love or your trust and our last night together proved it.

You’re not here anymore to hear my apologies and I’ll never forgive myself for it. You’ve gone now somewhere I can not follow, but I know you are well taken care of there. I hope, someway, somehow, you’ll hear these words: I am sorry. I loved you with my entire soul. Not listening to you was the biggest mistake of my life and I’ll never forgive myself. I choose however, to remember you as you were, because I know that’s what you’d want. I’ll remember you and your laugh.I’ll remember our date nights and shopping sprees. Nights in Lux or on the penthouse balcony. I’ll remember all the meals you prepared for me and the flirtatious remarks you used to make, because you thought they were so silly. I’ll remember the little frown on your face whenever you worked on an important project for work and I’ll remember every evening walk around the block you’d make me accompany you on. I know I always complained about them, but they were always fun. Everything I ever did with you was always fun.

I loved you. I still do. You are my everything Y/N. Thank you for devoting yourself to me in all the ways that you did. I’ll forever live on in my heart.“

~~~

It had been months since your disappearance. After all this time, you finally managed to escape your kidnappers and report them to the New York police station, since that’s where you had been held hostage for so long. As soon as the paperwork was done and you were sure that the people who ruined you were getting the punishment they deserved, you jumped on a train and headed straight back home. Straight to Lucifer.

Lux looked exactly the same as you had left it. You were washed over by a wave of comfort that almost brought you to tears. Home. You never thought you’d get to step in here again. Overwhelmed, you took a seat on one of the couches, allowing your head to rest back on it, as you took in every detail of your surroundings: the feel of the leather on your fingertips, the cool breeze of the air conditioning, the warm lights. Everything was still here.

“Y/N?” you jumped at the sound

“Hi love…” your voice broke as you said those words. Words you never thought you would be able to mutter again. The sight of your husband, messy as he was, made you weak in the knees. He was standing at the top of the staircase, dressed in nothing but his robe, tied carelessly around his waist. He had probably just woken up. You wanted to say something again, but before you could, he laughed

“Nope” he said simply, before making his way down the stairs and to the bar “I’m not doing this. Not today, not ever!” Lucifer filled his glass to the top with bourbon, before turning around and trying to leave back to where he came from

“Lucifer, it's me!”

“Sure you are, except you’re not real! Nice of dad, taking my ability to stay endlessly sober, getting me drunk, forcing visions of my dead wife onto me to teach me another lesson about managing my emotions. Real clever, except this is too much! So I’m going to enter that elevator and I expect to never have to see you again, hum? Right, well, au revoir now!” he continued on his way, but before he could get far, you were clutching on the silk tie of his robe. Lucifer felt the tug around his waist and turned around slowly to look at you, this time a little more unsure. As if he was trying to figure you out

“Lucifer, I’m Y/N. I escaped”

“Escaped? But that’s impossible, she died! I saw it-”

“What you saw was a bloody shirt!” he looked up to meet your gaze, tears already forming “They lied to you Lucifer”

Finally, it seemed like he had connected all of the pieces of the puzzle. The glass of alcohol fell to the ground and your husband wrapped you in a big hug for the first time in months. He nuzzled his head in your hair and took in your scent, your figure, your warmth. Hell, you were even more perfect that he remembered! Silent tears fell down both of your cheeks as you collapsed to the ground, still holding onto each other for dear life

“I’m so sorry” Lucifer sobbed in your hair “I’m so so sorry”

“It wasn’t your fault Luci”

“If I hadn’t been a jerk you wouldn’t have left! If I would have simply listened to you, they wouldn’t have gotten to you! You would’ve stayed here, where you belong! You would have stayed with me but instead I was too busy with my stupid job and the stupid cases and I’m sorry! I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry” he continued crying on your shoulder as you rubbed small circles on his back

“I’m here now my love” you whispered, kissing his cheek “And I’m not going anywhere”

[frostbittenbucky]

Bruce Wayne

The Batman

The Dark Knight

Worlds Greatest Detective

Had fucked up

Bruce Wayne isn’t a slob, he’s not lazy- he is the complete opposite of his persona “Brucie Wayne”, who is a lazy pampered prince. But Bruce Wayne? Never.

So after Bruce finishes a snack he washes his dishes like any civilized human would do- or else Alfred would have some very choice words and some very petty actions towards him. It’s a simple task, take off his rings, run the water, apply the soap, scrub then rinse.

Simple.

But someone tell Bruce how the hell he managed to drop his ring down the drain? And someone tell Bruce why the didn’t stop for a moment and think before shoving his hand down the drain?

He fucked up. Now he’s stuck. But Bruce Wayne is a genius, he can get himself out of this silly situation. So he tries pulling... and pulling... and pulling. Ok, next option, lubricant. Soap will do. So Bruce proceeds to pour a generous amount of soap around his hand, he moves it around to make sure it’s coated, then he pulls. And pulls. Ok so next move.

What’s the next move?

He groaned loudly, thinking how utterly ridiculous and stupid this situation is. “Ok... dammit,” he muttered to himself. He decided to reach for his phone and-

Shit. It’s on the kitchen island directly behind him, where it’s just out of his reach. Why did he do that? Oh right, because he got water in his speaker last time. Right. Perfect. Wonderful.

“Alfred?” He called out, “Alfred, Damian are you still here?” No response. Shitshitshitshitshitgodammitshitshit.

Maybe he can reach his phone? He thought. So with all his grace he leaned towards to island, swishing at the air in hopes his phone would magically come into his hand. Nah.

Leg, his leg might reach. It’s longer than his arm, and his can get some torso length in there. Lifting his leg and leaning his body out he kicks at the counter, his brows furrowed. Fuck. Bruce is very flexible, but his leg and torso are extended to the fullest human capacity, and fuck why are these countered so spaced out?!

Bruce pulls his body back and lays his forehead on the cold countertop, trying to push down the rage that’s building up in his chest. This is stupid. This is so fucking stupid. “Is anybody home? Stephanie? Jason? Ca- not you, Titus,” He lifted his head from the counter and looked to his right, and there Titus stood in front of Bruce, wanting to investigate the noise. Seeing nothing interesting Titus tilted his head and gave a “boof” before turning out and leaving him to his own demise, “no wait,” Bruce reached out for the dog who already made up his mind.

So there he stood.

Bruce Wayne

The Batman

The Dark Knight

The Worlds Greatest Detective

Dumbass

Knowing he now has to swallow his pride and go into his next move, he groans loudly. It’s not like it’s the first time he’s called when it wasn’t anything life threatening. Sure, it’s rare, but it does happen. Plus, he always understands, and by now he knows the differences between help and help. But Bruce knew there would be consequences... because he isn’t scared of Bruce, all his intimidation tactics fall short, completely on deaf ears around him.

“Clark,” his voice sounded almost like a whine, his voice was a little hoarse from literally forcing the words past his lips, “if you’re not busy I need a hand.”

Just as soon as his finished his sentence Clark was stood in front of him, flannel, glasses, and cowboy boots, “howdy.” Bruce closed his eyes at Clark’s greeting, then opened them to send him a hard glare, “what’s seems to be the problem, Bruce?” A wide and knowing grin spread across Clark’s face. X-ray vision. No explanation needed. Sure friends help friends in their times of need. But best friends? Oh yea, Bruce had to earn his help by paying the high price of humiliation.

“Just hand me my phone, Clark,” pointing at the device just out of reach.

A shocked and confused looked replaced Clark’s smile, “oh, this? This phone right here?” He also pointed, walking to grab the device, “you don’t happen to have Face ID do you?”

“No, I w-“ It was a lie. Clark know had opened his phone just by turning it to Bruce’s face. A sigh left his body, was this price worth his freedom? Probably not.

“Hold on, B, I’m not dressed properly. This is a rescue after all,” and just in a blink of an eye Superman now stood in front of a tired looking Bruce, having no choice of his front vow seat the shit show that was about to unfold. Clark lifted the phone and snapped a couple selfies with Bruce, grinning his charming smile that the world adored him for. Bruce looked like a hungover raccoon, putting it kindly.

“Are your done? Just get me out and I’ll buy you a horse or something.”

“Aw, you do care. I knew you were listening when I told you about that pony farm,” Clark didn’t bother to look up from the phone, tapping away at the screen, “oh Bruce, your groupchat is named ‘family’?”

His eyes widen, “don’t you da-“

“-Isn’t Dick a firefighter? I think that he’s better for this job,” Clark announced, taking a seat on the island that just out of reach, “I hope you understand Mr. Wayne, I’m glad to offer help but them seems like a job for our local emergency service.”

“If you call 911,” Bruce growled, gritting his teeth together, leaning towards the other man and close as possible, “I swear.”

Scoffing, Clark waves him off, “of course not, why would I waste a 911 operators time? There’s people who need real help out there. I’m calling Dick directly.” Once again, is the price of freedom worth it?

————-

“Fireman Dick Grayson reporting for duty!” Cried his oldest child with two other firman following close behind, “hey pops I h- is that Superman?” He faked a gasped, clutching his chest.

The group chat had blown up by now. A series of text and FaceTime calls followed shortly after.

Damian: “Tt. Father this is utterly disappointing”

Bruce: “Sorry to be disappointing, kiddo”

Stephanie: “lmfaoooo I’m coming over. Be there in 10 don’t escape until I get there”

Jason: *screenshot of the photo of Superman and Bruce posted on Twitter with the caption: “when your dad panics and calls Superman”

Jason: *another screenshot of a multitude of replies along the lines, “what are you doing step bro?” “What are your doing Superman?”*

Duke: “the mighty Batman has finally met his match. A kitchen sink”

Cassandra: “😆😆😂🤣😬🤔🧠🤷🏻‍♀️💕💕💗💓💖”

Bruce: “thank you, Cassandra. I think.”

Stephanie: “imma do a live when I get there 🤣”

Tim: “you know we’re not going to let you live this down right b?”

Dick: “dumbasssssss”

Dick: “don’t worry B I’ll be there to rescue you shortly”

Bruce: “I can unadopt all of you.”

Alfred: “master Bruce, please word yourself properly. “Unadopt” isn’t a real word.”

Bruce: “Sorry, Alfred.”

So now that official rescue crew has arrived he expected this to be a quick and professional release. Nah. Dick, his oldest, his light in the dark, his son, his baby boy, is an asshole.

Dick started taking his own selfies with Bruce and Superman. Dick and Clark wore bright smiles, full of perfect teeth and glimmering eyes. Bruce, again, looked like a mess. He was wearing an old shirt, old sweatpants, no makeup on, his hair an untamed, scattered, frizzy mess. He should’ve conditioned, but he wasn’t expecting to go out today or have any photos done today.

The price of freedom is high, but not worth it.



[zodiyack]

Reminders

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Female!Artist!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, me not proofreading + this probably sucking idk

Words: 951

Summary: Just a soft ol’ time with Sherlock under a tree. He’s like a Greek god, beauty gracing his face and body, and Y/n can never resist the urge to draw him. Only this time, he catches her.

Note: So this is honestly just a thought I attempted to turn into a story. Anyhow, I’ve wanted to write for Henry for a while now, so while I have a draft for Benedict’s Sherlock, I thought I’d write for Henry’s... Also please be nice this is my first Henry fic lmao

Taglist: @matth1w​, @redspaceace-writes​, @fandom-puff​, @darling-i-read-it​, @simonsbluee​, @thewarriorprincessxo​

Masterlist | Henry Cavill Masterlist

The air was chilled, but also held just enough warmth to not be considered unbearable. Y/n seemed content with the weather, and she was, but it was the wind she couldn’t stand. It rustled through her papers as she drew, a groan escaping her parted lips every time she lifted her utensil and readjusted the sheets.

Sherlock only chuckled. He had told her before, sitting in the tree wouldn’t help her situation with the wind, yet she found her usual spot anyways. Stubborn as she was, he thought the frustrated knitting of her brows followed by agitated groans was cute. The man did not comment, however, with the knowledge that his teasing would only upset her more.

“Bloody wind.” Y/n muttered bitterly before continuing her sketch as if the wind disrupting her focus had never even happened. Sherlock leaned forward, tilting his head at the tree with a grin. The sight of his Y/n ever so focused, smudges of ink slightly littered among her face, was one he could look at forever.

He returned to his position against the base of the wood, redirecting his attention to his pipe again. Unbeknownst to him, Y/n did as he was only previously doing. Sneaking peaks at the detective as he smoked his pipe, a warm feeling of admiration and other feelings making home in her belly as she did so.

Her own artwork made her heart race and her palms grow sweaty at times. She drew a variety of things; humans, creatures, inanimate objects and more. But of all her muse’s, the unknowing Sherlock was her favorite.

Not only was he fun to draw, but every portrait served as reminders of her favorite thing in life, the thing she loved the most in the world. Moments captured as if time was frozen and spread over a canvas or paper. They held her favorite memories with the love of her life; ones she knew she absolutely loathed the thought of forgetting.

The time he fell asleep by the fire. She happily began the work, stopping from time to time to admire the way his beauty shined even through a resting state. Then there was when he and Enola were catching up with each other in the library, the smile on their faces immediately sparking inspiration. She even drew him without reference, his face the one thing she never grew tired of looking at nor drawing.

Y/n herself got lost in the euphoric bliss, ceasing all movement in her drawing hand and reclining back against the wood. Her arms lifted off the paper at such unfortunate timing. The wind attacked her papers for what felt like the thousandth time, releasing her from her lovestruck reminiscence as panic flooded through her body.

“No!” She collected all but one last sheet, not realizing her lack until the very last second. Counting the pages, she noticed one was missing, the sheet falling in the air seen in her peripheral vision.

As Sherlock snatched the falling paper, Y/n’s eyes doubled in size. She felt herself swallow thickly, silently pleading for him to just hand it back up without taking a single look. It wasn’t anything she should’ve been ashamed of, they were together after all, but the thought of him figuring out she’d been at it for so long was a little scarier than if he found out at the first work.

But his reaction wasn’t entirely what she’d imagined. He held it by the the bottom and straightened it with a flick of his wrist before furrowing his eyebrows as he inspected it. A smirk was quick to grace his lips and replace the inspecting expression.

Y/n’s face scrunched and her eyes snapped shut, her entire form tensed with fear. “Did you draw this?” She took a second, slowly calming as she registered his inquiry. 

“Yes...”

“You’re quite skilled, Y/n. Why didn’t you tell me sooner? I would’ve willingly modelled for these, you know?”

“I...” Her entire fear seamed just as meaningless as it originally had been. Now that Sherlock had asked, she found her reasons to be silly. “I’m not sure. I suppose I was a little embarrassed.”

“Embarrassed? Of what? Your art? Your love for me? Darling, there’s nothing to be ashamed of. If anything, you should embrace your passion.” He stood up, pipe set aside sometime ago, and handed the paper to his lover. “Don’t be afraid to ask, I’ll gladly do anything for you, beloved.”

“It’s- I- I can explain-”

“There’s nothing to explain.” He didn’t move, arm still extended. “I’ve already told you my thoughts.”

She looked down at the paper, taking it with a shy smile. “...Do you mean it?”

Sherlock chuckled. “As long as my heart should beat and my lungs breathe, I would go to the ends of the world for you.”

“I- ...And I, you.” Y/n hopped out of the tree, finding Sherlock’s arms a comfortable and safe landing spot. She returned her supplies to the bag beside the tree, lifting it over head and resting it safely on her hip before turning to Holmes. “I love you, Sherlock.”

“And I you, Y/n.” He grinned once again. The couple walked away, heading towards the home with clasped hands and starting on discussing Sherlock’s new model occupation.

Enola would soon hear of his side-career and the detective would never hear the end of it. Nevertheless, he wouldn‘t hate the teasing; the same smirk appearing on his face as the one he wore upon discovering Y/n’s hobby, each poke of playful mockery a reminder of the very day he swore he’d marry Y/n L/n, and a reminder of the day he finally followed through with the promise he made to himself.

[gaitwae]

The Blessings of Damsels [|] Batman x OC

read on AO3!

Warnings: Slightly open-ended, hinted love triangle. 

Length: 8.4k

Summary: A short timeline of how Charlene Park got over Clark Kent and set boundaries with Bruce Wayne.

=-=-==-=-==-=-==-=-==-=-=

=-=-=

The wind felt exquisite on Charlene’s skin, calming her racing heart. It wasn’t every day where her life flashed before her — she had been left under a pillar near LexCorps, then saved by an angel named Superman. Her eyes, shut tightly and pressing away tears, helped her forget exactly why you couldn’t go back to Metropolis. It had been a week, and, yet, here you were. She was hiding from someone too important to her. Charlene was hiding from shaking buildings and crumbling roads and screams and glowing rocks and a reporter who kept disappearing every time that Superman kept showing up. 

She was done with the lying and the rejection.

She didn’t plan on jumping from the rail where she was standing. She didn’t want to hurt herself. She just wanted to see something else. 

So, in search of new scenery, of something alien to her, Charlene went to the most dangerous city in America. Albeit, it wasn’t the smartest thing to do, it was something that at least distracted her. Central City was just too far to drive, and Gotham was supposed to be the sister city of her home. She could just forget about this man who had worried her sick, she could just relax and listen to the cars run and the flags flap and smell the sulfur and petroleum and the flowers in the box on the building beneath her. Way up on this rooftop, she let her surroundings melt away her fears.

Char sat on the ledge of the roof, setting her fingers under the concrete lip.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” a deep voice said, startling her. The stranger set a sleek, covered hand on her shoulder to secure her. “People jump all the time. I hope you’re not looking for an escape that way.” 

“Um,” Char started, trying to find her voice, “I wasn’t going to jump. I was just trying to get over someone.” She cleared her throat and dusted her clothes off. She tucked her hair behind her ear. “Not that it’s important… but he’s kind of important in Metropolis. I had to leave.”

There was a hum from the man who was behind her. Char looked up, seeing a black cowl and stubble dotting a square jaw and set lips. There was a familiarity to him — not that she knew him, but that she had seen him somewhere before. Charlene felt… well, not safe, but there was something comforting about him. As she looked closer, she noticed a large silhouette of a bat was weaved into the fabric on his breast.

Batman.

“How important can he be? He’s not Lex Luthor, is he?” the vigilante asked. He sat down next to Char, setting his cape underneath his legs so it flowed beneath him. His lips twitched upwards, but not quite. 

“He’s one of the biggest writers for the Daily Planet newspaper,” she said, laughing sadly. She felt like an idiot. Why was she spilling her guts out to this stranger? “Clark Kent, such a dork, but he’s always in the building. I work with him. I’m a newscaster —”

“Charlene Park,” he filled in. He turned to look at her, bright blue eyes gazing into her own orbs.

Charlene blushed. She wasn’t surprised. This was the Batman. He was crazy smart. Who knew how much he knew about anyone at the Daily Planet. Rumor was, Superman worked there, so of course, he might have known something about it. “You know my name. Creepy.”

He gave a slight nod as if agreeing with her. “You said it yourself. You’re a newscaster. I make it my job to watch the news.”

“For Metropolis, too?”

What a stupid question, of course for Metropolis too —

“Yes,” he said, patient and friendly. “Superman lives there. I have to know if I ever need to interfere. If he was ever mind-controlled, I need to be able to step in and save the world. The other members of the Justice League aren’t capable.” Each word that came from his mouth didn’t seem arrogant or rude at all. Batman was almost… melancholy. 

“So… you’re all by yourself?” she asked.

“I have my kids. They’re trained pretty well,” he replied. He turned his gaze out to Gotham City. He had a firm stare, unwavering and determined. Her heart dipped, sorry for him, impressed by him, and so… so weirded out, too.

Charlene looked out at the city, too. “I don’t have kids. I don’t have anybody. My parents died when I was young, I was never adopted, and I don’t have siblings.” She scratched the back of her neck. “Clark was my friend back in Smallville. It’s just been so odd, recently. He hasn’t been around as much, he’s been tailing Lois Lane, and I’ve been breaking my own heart over and over.” She sighed. “Don’t get me wrong — Clark’s a great guy! But…”

“That’s why it’s hard to get over him,” the Batman supplied. He bowed his head. An understanding was hidden beneath layers of quiet. “I don’t know what it’s like to be in love with some kind of Clark Kent, but I know what loneliness is, Miss Park.”

“Char.”

“Char,” he corrected himself. 

She cleared her throat, unsure of what to say. “Do you still feel lonely? With your kids?”

He shook his head a little. “Not as much, no. There are times I feel lonely, but I’ve been blessed. Your blessings will come, Char.” He turned to look at her. “I hope that helps.”

“It does,” she said, smiling. “What makes you so sure I’ll have blessings? I mean, you coming to talk to me seems heaven-sent, but that’s not a guarantee.” Charlene twisted her hands together, now restless. The Batman took his time to collect his answer.

“You’re a woman in her mid-thirties who still pines over her high school sweetheart,” he started. “You had one good thing, and it either ended or you grew apart. You built others up instead of yourself. You’ve waited patiently for what you want — but not for everything. You let some things go for others. You fought for everything and you’ve sacrificed it all. The foster homes were nothing, and yet it was the worst thing to live through. A kid with no one made herself into a someone, even if it was half of a someone.” The Batman rested on his elbows. “You’re too scared to let people go, but you’ve accepted people letting go of you or setting you aside. Char, you’ve got to have something coming to you.”

Charlene was stunned. How did he know all these things? Was she that obvious? Was she an open book? Or was that the hero of Gotham doing his job, once more? Oh, she couldn’t tell. Her skin prickled from both his sheer guesswork and the chilling night air. She wrapped her arms around herself. “Wow. You got all that just by listening to me for a few seconds?”

“And from feeling it myself or seeing my kids struggle with it.” He unclipped his cape, standing up. He wrapped it around her shoulders. The Batman stood close, but not too close. This was all too surreal. Charlene didn’t know how to feel. This stranger was becoming less and less of a stranger. She knew he wouldn’t want to be too close, and it was foolish to think that they would be close. This was just a weird talk about Clark Kent on a Sunday night, on the ledge of a rooftop. Being in love with Clark Kent was the least of her worries, anyway.

“Can I ask you something?” she whispered. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t protest. She waited about thirty seconds before saying anything. Her mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out. Her larynx didn’t want to cooperate. 

How to phrase this?

He set a hand on her head, signalling for her to continue. 

“If I wanted to talk to you again, how would I be able to do that?” she whispered. “I feel as if you’ve understood me more in ten minutes than my shrink has in years. Not to mention, you might be able to relate to me more than my shrink can. You said you felt some of this stuff yourself. Are you an orphan, too?” 

“That’s more than one thing,” he said. He looked down at her with a glint in his eyes. “Just go back to Metropolis. You’re needed there.”

Charlene stopped. Of course. Right. She put her palm to her forehead. “You’re right. I’ll have to just face Clark like normal.” She barked a laugh. “You’re a hero, Bats.”

“Good to know.” 

Char stood up. “You might want this back, won’t you?” She flapped the cape around her shoulders. She felt silly. She didn’t know this man. She knew nothing about him, and she was talking to him like she was talking to Clark. She wasn’t a writer; she wasn’t an interviewer; she was a reciter. This was all new to her. 

The cowled detective hooked a thumb in his belt. “I’ll walk you back to your hotel room — you can return it then, Char.”

=-=-= “The Batman Incident” was what Charlene came to remember that night as. It was fresh in her mind for weeks, as fresh as the minutes she had lived through it. Any time she felt crisp cool air on her neck, any time she was alone at night on her balcony, she was instantly reminded of the interaction. Charlene didn’t ache or wish or anything like that, but it didn’t stop her from trying to figure out why the moments felt so real compared to anything else she had been through. Out of all that, she had been now, instead of Clark’s hurt bothering her the most, it was the Batman’s words ringing in her ears. 

Char was sitting at Clark’s desk with the writer himself, now. He was leaning against it, scratching his head and playing with his glasses. Kent was antsy. He groaned, turned, then slapped his hands against the desk with a deep, deep sigh. “I can’t believe Lois caught an interview with Bruce Wayne. Wanna know the weirdest part?” he asked. He looked into Char’s eyes, pure confusion dressing his face.

“What’s ‘the weirdest part’?” she asked, repeating what he said exactly how he had said it. “She’s gotten interviews with the president of McDonald’s, before, Clark, I’m not exactly surprised. Lois is talented.” Char reached over the desk and grabbed a cup of coffee that had been nearly emptied, though had enough for her pleasure. She didn’t need to be an anchor, today. It was supposed to be her day off. She wouldn’t have even come in at all if Clark hadn’t asked her.

Charlene really needed to stop doing things because Clark asked. 

“The weirdest part was how he never accepts interviews. In fact, he asked if Lois still worked at the Daily Planet.” He shook his head, pinching his nose. “He asked if we could hold the interview here, otherwise it wouldn’t happen… oh, sometimes I think billionaires hate me…”

“Makes sense,” Charlene agreed. She propped herself up on her elbows. “Why wouldn’t they hate reporters and journalists? They could be talking with Superman or Batman or Wonder Woman.” 

Clark laughed dryly. “You have no idea how much I wish I was having an interview with Batman. Instead, I have to deal with Bruce Wayne.”

“Lois is having the interview with Wayne, Clark. Calm down. It’ll all be okay.” Char stood up, patted his back, then sat back behind his desk and took a long sip of his coffee. “Besides, Bruce Wayne can’t be that… scary…” She trailed off. She saw the elevator to the writing room open.

The man walking out of the elevator and toward her was not who she was supposed to be seeing. She might have been bad at recognition in general, but she remembered that square jaw, those blue eyes. She hoped against hope she was seeing things. “I take it back,” she whispered to Clark. Her old friend kept shooting his eyes back and forth between her, Wayne, and Lois Lane, trying to put the pieces together quickly. Charlene stood up, a smile tugging up her face at the sight of the man she wasn’t supposed to know. “He’s terrifying.”

“Charlene —”

“Mr. Wayne,” she greeted, speaking louder than Clark intentionally. “Welcome to the Daily Planet. How are you, this morning?” She extended her hand outwards to take his. Mr. Wayne took it, gave it a firm shake, then smiled broadly at her. 

“Charlene, right?” he asked, squinting his eyes and setting a hand on her upper arm in a friendly manner. His suit was about as straight as wrapping paper; shiny like it, too. He was just missing the Christmas bow.

“Yes!” she grinned. She set her hands on her hips. “Charlene Park: a lowly newscaster. I hope you like the Daily Planet and find some friends, here.”

Bruce smiled. “Then I suppose we’re friends already, Miss Park.”

“I guess we are,” she said. “Friends are life’s greatest blessings, aren’t they?”

“They are, I agree.” Bruce Wayne let go of her, moving back to Lois Lane. He kept his eyes on hers. He clapped his hands together lightly. “I have an interview to complete. It was nice meeting you, Char. I hope to see more of you.”

“Best of luck, Mr. Wayne.”

When Bruce Wayne walked away, Clark folded his arms tightly over his chest. “That was the strangest thing I’ve ever seen — and I’ve seen my dad in daisy dukes.”

Char cocked her head, trying to stifle a snicker. “Clark, c’mon. It wasn’t anything. I’m fine, really.”

The man fixed his tie, taking the empty coffee cup from his desk over to the office kitchen. As he walked past her, he said, “I’ll believe it when you don’t giggle at the billionaire.”

“Maybe he looks funny!” Charlene offered. 

“Har har!” Clark called. “I’m sure that’s it.”

=-=-= The interview with Bruce Wayne was done and over within record time. Charlene had never seen Lois so happy before. Bruce, on the other hand… Charlene had no idea someone could hide such a smile behind two eyes. 

She was shaking. She didn’t know if she was happy, mad, excited, or scared that she knew the man behind the mask all the way back in Gotham City. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to know what emotion she was feeling… or if she really wanted to know the man behind the mask in Gotham City. She kept replaying the Batman Incident in her head. She didn’t want to relive it. She didn’t want to have a vigilante smile at her and know exactly who she was pining for. 

Yeah, she still hurt for Clark. It wasn’t going to go away so quickly. But billionaire Bruce Wayne didn’t need to know that. 

She let her mouth run twice. She needed to keep a lid on it the next chance she got. To make sure she didn’t even risk it, Charlene packed up and left early. She was at home without another run-in with Bruce. 

Boy, did that make her feel worse. She felt terrible, cowardly. Running from her problems was just another thing Char found herself doing constantly. She had made herself some pasta, wrapped herself in a bathrobe over her T-shirt, and sat with a mug of sweet tea in her lap. 

Her newspaper clippings of the Batman littered her coffee table. Every award-winning article written by Clark was framed up. Her old dog was sitting next to her, chewing on his toy without a care in the world. For being a coward’s safe space, it was very comfortable.

“Real brave, Charlene,” she mumbled into the ceramic as she took a sip. She switched on the TV, hoping for white noise. “Just hope I was wrong about Wayne…”

“That depends on what you think you’ve found,” said the last voice she wanted to hear. Char exhaled through her nose.

“Come in,” she called. “Don’t just hang around in the shadows.”

The Batman slipped out of her bathroom door, cowl on and frown deep. He was regal and knightly, feet apart and shoulders taught. “Char,” he greeted.

“I was hoping you could tell me if I was wrong, actually.” Charlene sat up, putting her mug aside. She beckoned him over. He sat down next to her. “I just never noticed how similar the Batman is to Bruce Wayne.”

“Similar?”

“Like your eyes are the exact same shade of blue,” she reasoned. “And you wear the same aftershave, too.”

“Charlene,” the Batman said quietly, “anyone can have similar aftershaves and blue eyes.”

“Not everyone in Gotham knows who I am.”

“Not everyone in Metropolis knows who I am, either,” he countered. “Do you really want to know who I am?”

“I know Clark is Superman. Part of the reason I’m furious with him is that he lies to me.” Char made sure her emphasis was on lies. “The allegations would be too crazy for anyone to believe, trust me.”

“There are too-crazy people in Gotham that can’t know,” he answered. “I’m sorry. Even if I trusted you above everyone, your position makes it hard for me to tell you.”

“My position?” she repeated.

The dark knight looked at her as if it were obvious. It was, but she didn’t understand why she couldn’t at least hear the truth from him. “You’re a friend of Superman’s and a newscaster. I have responsibilities, a lot of them. My kids, my city, my assets.” He said assets, not money. He was a businessman at his core, even if he had the heart of a lion there, too. 

“Just tell me if Bruce Wayne can answer me, then.” Charlene stuck her hands under her arms. “Since the two of you already know I know.”

“Charlene,” he said quietly, roughly. She turned her head away. She felt insulted. 

It took her a second to realize it, but the Batman was pleading. He didn’t do it the same way Clark did. Clark would soften up, not set up defenses. Clark would take her hand, not give her space. Clark wasn’t anything like the Batman. He just sat, frozen, waiting his turn patiently. 

She had to be patient with him, too. She wasn’t a superhero. She didn’t know what this was like for him, but she could still be patient. So to help, Charlene waited, too, for what seemed like forever. She took his hand and squeezed it. He didn’t squeeze back, but he didn’t recoil. The hand was limp despite her grip and she couldn’t say that she blamed him for it; she was thankful he didn’t rip his fingers away so soon.

“Why did you agree to an interview?” she whispered. “And… and don’t say it wasn’t you. Lois doesn’t talk about me, I wasn’t wearing a nametag, and Bruce Wayne has no reason to be watching the Metropolis Daily Planet Newscast outside of the financial updates.” 

“I figured it was time for an interview,” he answered. The Batman didn’t deny it. Bruce didn’t deny it. He kept his eyes away from hers. “I remembered that you worked there. You owe me after that talk, so I came to collect.”

“You think you’re funny,” she said with a smile. “I appreciate your thoughtfulness… Lois will be grinning ear-to-ear for weeks because of you.”

“I was supposed to be meeting Clark, anyway. I figured the pitstop might be worth it.” Bruce’s lips twitched again. Char grinned broadly. He removed his cowl then faced her. “You could really tell it was me because of the eye color?” 

He seemed more at home in his bat armor. He was comfortable in this grey/black getup. When he wore the crisp suit, he seemed fidgety, but when he was sitting next to her, his muscles weren’t so tense. His eyes didn’t dart all over. He was at rest as the Batman.

“You do a good falsetto, but yeah, it was the eye color.” She stood. “Can I get you tea? Or are you going to disappear?” 

Bruce pressed his lips into a line. “I don’t know how long I can stay.  I have to drive home tonight… and I’m not the type for this sort of domesticity.” 

“I won’t tell anyone you’re docile,” Charlene promised, crossing her heart. She took her cup and went into the kitchen. “As long as no one knows about me, no one can hurt me or my family — there is no family to hurt.”

“You’ve thought this through?” he asked, footsteps not far behind hers. He stopped in the doorway. “May I?” He pointed to the kitchen wall lined with the cupboards and appliances. Charlene nodded. Bruce poked around her cabinets and her drawers, casually picking something up every now and again. She didn’t mind — he was getting to know her. He was a detective. She had nothing to hide, and he had everything to see. Win-win. “Impressive.” 

“I’ve been dying to see you, again,” she teased. “You could say I’m crazy for you.”

“Not really my type,” he mused. Char could hear items jangling around behind her. “Desperation isn’t my style.”

“But stopping a girl from jumping — when she wasn’t — is?” She poured another cup of tea, looking back at the dark knight. He was holding a spatula and studying it carefully. He pretended as if he hadn’t heard her.

“My son, Damian,” he started. He set the spatula down, digging for something else. “He wouldn’t admit it, but he would love to rescue a damsel in distress. I think he would like you.”

“I’m a damsel in distress?” she laughed. She set a teabag in the cup, doing a one-eighty to face Bruce. “Who are you? Some kind of prince charming?”

“The term is ‘knight in shining armor,’” he corrected. He closed the drawer he was meddling in. “The prince is the kid from Smallville, Kansas.”

“I’m from Smallville, Kansas.” Charlene walked over to him. Bruce was still standing rigidly. She didn’t know if he knew how to relax. Could he relax? Was it even physically possible for Bruce “the Batman” Wayne to relax?

“I’m from New Jersey.” He crossed his arms, rubbing his fingers together. 

“Hey. You don’t have the Jersey accent,” Char pointed out. She pulled his gloves off gently, setting them on the counter. She went to get his tea. “Let it steep for about thirty more seconds.” She set the mug in his hands. They were so large that the orange cup seemed like a plaything compared to a real item.

“I never said I interacted with New Jersey,” he said dryly. “I just lived there. I was raised by my butler.” 

“Does Detroit have any superheroes?” she wondered aloud. Bruce waved the tea under his nose, scrunching his nose upwards. He took a sip without glaring at the tea again. “Your butler sounds like a wonderful man. He raised you well.”

“I’m lucky.” He paused for a moment. “Aquaman, the Green Lantern, and Amazing Man live in Detroit. Why are you asking?”

Charlene patted his shoulder, throwing away everything he had just said. Truth be told, she just wanted to hear Bruce’s voice. “Not many kids are lucky.”

“Three of my boys are adopted,” he said quietly. He rubbed the mug that she had given him. “I give to adoption centers. It’s important to me to give kids homes where they’re loved. Clark Kent’s only known family’s love, and that’s what drives him. What drives me is the chance to make sure all sorts of people never have to worry about losing it.”

“I admire that,” Char murmured. “I wish I had a family of my own, but I just don’t have the time.”

“Someday, you’ll find the time.” Bruce gave her a smile. “I promise.”

Charlene smiled back. His small smiles were infectious. “I’ll hold you to that, Bats.”

=-=-= “Hey, Charlene?” Clark called from the living room. She was too busy combing her hair out and fixing her gown. She had received a letter in the mail (honestly, who does that anymore?) from Bruce, inviting her to a charity gala with him. She almost gave Clark a heart attack when she started laughing triumphantly at some paper. He wasn’t particularly happy that Charlene was going for a night on the town with Bruce Wayne, billionaire bachelor supreme. “Are you okay up there?”

“I’m fine, Clark!” she called back. “I’m just seeing a friend, tonight. Tell Martha and Johnathan I won’t be able to come to dinner tonight. I’m going to a foster care fundraiser with Bruce Wayne. I’d think you’d be coming to interview some of the guests there since you were adopted, too.”

“I can’t! I don’t have any way to get in. It’s private, Char.” Clark was starting to sound impatient. “Are you going to meet him or is he going to meet you?”

“He said he would pick me up!” she answered, finishing her eyeliner and walking downstairs. “Does that bother you, wonderboy?” She gripped the rail, fanning out her yellow skirt around her legs. She wore simple copper chains and glass earrings — nothing expensive, but classy enough that she didn’t look like a bum. Charlene knew Bruce liked his reputation (not a lot, but still) so she thought she would save him a few steps. No jewellery, no dresses. He would just have a friend tonight.

Clark’s eyes flew open wide. His cheeks colored. “Wow… you’re going like that?” He puffed his cheeks and took off his glasses. “You look…”

“Terrible?” she fretted.

“Like an angel. Like Wonder Woman,” he said quickly. He looked down at his lenses and quickly wiped them with his shirt like they were going to melt off his face. “You’re gorgeous. Wayne is going to love it, Char.”

“Thanks, Clark.” Charlene walked over and kissed his cheek. The writer wrapped his arms around her, pressing her against his chest. He felt warm, he felt like home. She never had to worry about being something more than she was around Clark. But Bruce knew how to take her walls down. Charlene was better off with a friend than with someone who had never noticed her. Suddenly, she got an idea and pulled back to see Clark. “You should ask Lois out! I heard she likes the boys in blue.”

He stopped. “‘Boys in blue’? She knows?”

After meeting Bruce a few more times, she finally gained the courage to confront Clark about the whole Super-gig. She made sure she wasn’t going to be blown off — so sure, Char almost confessed her years-old feelings to him. She couldn’t have lived through that, even with Bruce’s support. They had talked through the deception and somehow managed to build better trust between themselves. She almost forgot why she had originally left Metropolis for that fateful encounter with Bruce Wayne.

“Clark,” she scolded gently. “You haven’t told her?”

“Listen, I’m working on it —,” he started, holding his hands up in defense. His feet slowly removed themselves from the floor. Charlene set her hand on her hip, pinching her nose. 

“You promised she would know before she kissed you, again.” 

Another reason why Charlene absolutely could not tell Clark she liked him. Lois, caught up in the rush of being a damsel, kissed her rescuer unabashedly in front of half the staff of the Daily Planet. Charlene’s heart didn’t break for the first time; it didn’t mean it didn’t crack a teeny, tiny bit. 

“I know I did —” There was a knock at the door. Clark’s face fell into a scowl. He tucked his knees up to his chest, silently moving toward the door, and straightening his clothes out once he reached his destination. “Wait there for a moment, Char.”

Charlene crossed her arms. “Clark.”

Clark opened the door. Bruce was standing on the doorstep with a single pink rose. “Hi,” he said, giving his signature subtle smirk. “Is Charlene ready? Tim’s not too patient behind the wheel.”

“Hi,” Clark greeted warily. He kept his fingers curled around the door. His gentle manner was nearly nightmarish. Every breath was a slow calculation of how to kill a billionaire and get away with it. Charlene sighed deeply into her hand. Clark continued despite her wordless sass. “She’s ready. You better know that if you hurt her —”

“I wouldn’t do it without a positive benefit,” Bruce swore. “Besides, I’m not the one who’s dancing between two ladies. Save the shovel talk.” He pat Clark’s shoulder, pushing him aside and out of the way. When his eyes hit Charlene, his jaw dropped. She had never seen that reaction before, so her temples tingled from slight self-consciousness. “Char, you look beyond stunning. You’re shining.”

A nervous laugh bubbled up Charlene’s throat. “I bet you say that to all the girls.” She grabbed her clutch on the side table where Clark was standing. Quickly, she hugged him in a farewell. “Bye, Clark.”

Clark released a big breath, hugging her back once more. He set her back next to Bruce. “Bye, Charlene. Bruce.”

“Clark,” he responded in kind. “I’ll take care of her, don’t worry.” Bruce put his arm around Charlene’s waist. “There won’t be any need to play hero; if there is, I’ve got all I need within reach.” With that, Bruce took Charlene out of the foyer and into his limousine. 

“That was weirdly intense,” Char commented. With the knight’s help, she sat next in the back of the cab. “Did he make you uncomfortable?”

Bruce took her hand and set the rose in her grasp before sitting down next to her. “No. He doesn’t make me uncomfortable.”

“Okay. Clark is very protective; I didn’t want you in the hospital for saying the wrong thing.” Charlene played with the rose in her hands, resisting the urge to breathe in the sweet aroma. The cab of the limousine was warm, spacious, and smelled comforting. It took her a second to realize it smelled like Bruce: his aftershave, his cologne, and a hint of something metallic. Her cheeks heated at the realization. 

How close had she and Bruce become? So close she knew exactly what Bruce smelled like? So close that she wasn’t nervous about the speculations tied to being on a billionaire’s arm? She looked at the rose petals. The color always meant something — Bruce always meant something. Pink… Why couldn’t she remember its meaning outside of being her favorite color? Why? Did she just forget everything the minute Bruce smiled?

“Char?” 

“I’m fine,” she said, snapping out of her thoughts. She set the rose down next to her, clasping her hands over her lap. “I guess I got so swept up in the idea of an adoption charity… I forgot who I was going with.” She looked at Bruce with a half-smile. “Thank you for taking me to this. I have as much as I can give on me, tonight; I even sold some of my old pieces of jewellery for these kiddos.” Charlene laughed nervously. “It seems so little compared to what you have… will it even be taken? I’m not an elitist. I’m not even close to well-off.”

Bruce’s eyebrows drew together. Something in his eyes softened, but she couldn’t pin what. He held her hand. “It’ll be taken. It’ll help someone, and any help at all can go a long way. You don’t have to worry about earning a position to give.” He tilted her head upwards, locking eyes with her. “You don’t have to earn anything. Not with me.”

She laced her fingers with his to signal her acknowledgement. Char couldn’t form words. She kept opening her mouth to protest but no sound came with the action — she felt helpless, yet all the same, she knew Bats would understand. Bruce let go of her hand to favor her face, instead. She leaned into the touch with a shaky breath.

“I’m not Clark, Charlene,” he whispered. “I’m not going to keep stringing you along; I won’t compare you to anyone or make empty promises. You’re more than a comparison.” Bruce brushed her hair out of her face, keeping those electric blues trained on hers. “You don’t have to earn anything from me. You don’t have to earn me.”

“I’m not…” Charlene stopped, trying to swallow the lump in her throat. She didn’t want to talk about this; she didn’t want to beat around the bush, either. “Gosh, how do you know this stuff? Is it all estimation?”

“Observation,” he admitted. He kissed her forehead. “Cheer up. We don’t want your mascara to run just yet, do we?”

She nodded, taking a deep breath in to calm herself. She hadn’t realized her eyes were quite that full. “Bruce.”

He hummed, arching a brow. Yes?

“You don’t have to earn anything from me, either.” She kissed his cheekbone. The corners of his eyes crinkled, which made her smile. She rested her head on the dark knight’s shoulder. “You’re a good man.”

“But?”

“No ‘but,’” she hummed. “You’re a good man, and that’s all.”

=-=-= Saturday morning, three weeks after the gala, Charlene’s heart felt heavy and light at the same time. She couldn’t put the gala out of her mind: the party; the guests; the smiles on the Wayne boys’ faces; Bruce’s kindness. She was trying her best to think it all over. The waiters kept offering her champagne, but she declined every time. She didn’t drink out of anxiousness, yet the whole ordeal was a blur. Blurry, except the speech about the children, and the way Bruce’s smile widened every time she smiled back.

She was sitting at the window, holding a water bottle and gazing out into the street. It was raining. She had a few pink roses in a vase, all from Bruce. A note was attached, something like “Thank you for your support,” but it didn’t really matter to her. He was gentle in his own way. That was just the way the Batman was: gentle and swift, yet blunt and cold at the same time. How had she managed to stumble into his good graces? What if she brought down his reputation? What if she did the wrong thing?

The Wayne boys were very polite. Dick was making her laugh all night long, Jason knew how to talk old-money downlookers away, Tim was a good conversationalist, and Damian asked all the good questions. All the right questions. Questions like, “What’s your relationship with my father? Do you believe in this cause? Are you using my father? Do you know how to play Mario Kart?”

She almost couldn’t answer some of the questions. Were she and Bruce friends? Were they something else? Were they acquaintances? Was she being kept around because she knew who Bruce really was? When it came to Mario Kart and the adoption cause, she couldn’t say anything but “Yes!” enthusiastically. Every now and then, Bruce would come over to recharge. He seemed tired with all the interaction. 

Then there was the turn of the night.

The most vivid part.

Dancing with Bruce Wayne.

Charlene stopped herself from clawing over her heart. It was sinking deeper as she recalled the moment.

“You’re nervous, Char,” Bruce whispered into her ear. “Why?” The question was innocent, concerning. He kept a steady hand on the small of her back, swaying to the beat of the soft jazz band. He was a natural at it. Charlene did her best to hold onto him, gripping his shoulder and his hand. 

“I’ve never been to anything like this, before. Not even some kind of prom,” she laughed quietly. She looked down at their feet. Bruce was leading, but what else was new? The floor gleamed… Bruce’s shoes were worn, despite his money and status… Worn shoes said a lot about how he spent his money on himself. Oh! Beneath the suit, it was clear that he wore a compact utility belt — at least, it was after learning he wore one everywhere. “I’m not sure what I’m supposed to be doing, at all,” Charlene continued. “After talking with your boys, it just made me realize how scared I was to be jumping into this life with you.” She cleared her throat as she prepared to tell him exactly what was on her mind. “I know I’m just on a leash to keep you guys safe. You really don’t need to worry about me.”

The dance halted. No one paid any attention to them, keeping up with the music and circling around them. “Is that what you think?” he asked. Amusement lined his words, as well as a vague hint of hurt. “You’re just a liability?”

“I don’t know what to think,” Charlene had answered honestly.

As of right now, she still felt like a liability. Even though Bruce had promised her she didn’t have to earn anything, her heart was having difficulty believing it. She looked over at her vase of roses. Were those flowers from him? Or were they a product of manners?

Was she seeing things that weren’t there?

Bruce had been so quick to answer her when she admitted her insecurities. He had taken his hand out of hers. “You’re not a liability.” He ran his hands through her hair, pulling her closer. “If you were a liability, I would have used other ways to keep an eye on you.”

Char’s heart was racing faster by the second. “Ba… Bruce…” She wanted to call him Bats. She wanted to say so many things, just then. She wondered if Bruce could feel her pulse through that utility belt he had under his suit. His eyes fluttered shut before she realized what was happening. She didn’t want to believe it was real.

With a never ending, agonizingly slow quickness, lips met hers. Moving, soft, warm lips met hers and drew a gasp from her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, trying to reciprocate the best she could without losing her cool.

Now, three weeks later, she hadn’t talked to Bruce about it. She hadn’t brought it up. He didn’t verbally acknowledge it, so neither did she. A kiss with Mr. Wayne meant nothing. Not in public. Not when he had a false reputation of being a playboy. A kiss between them would have meant the world… but that was in the middle of a gala; in the middle of a party filled with people Bruce was supposed to impress. 

So, even though she loved that kiss, she was still confused about Clark and she was miserable about the manner it came about. She wanted to know the truth. She knew if she asked he would have an obvious answer and call her a fool for believing him. 

“Hey, Charlene?” Clark called. Her ears pricked back at the sudden noise. She stood up and walked downstairs, rubbing under her eyes to make sure there weren’t any tears. She hadn’t cried, yet, but she didn’t want to start crying over it, either. “Come here.” 

“What, Clark? Can’t you see I’m busy moping about — …what is that?” she yelped. Clark was standing with his writing tablet facing outward, a glower painted over his features. She could hardly care about his nasty expression, however. There she was, her yellow evening gown and Bruce’s hands laced in her hair, plastering the first article of the month. Big, bold words read: 

“Bruce Wayne Finds New Lover — Will It LAST?” 

“Who took that picture!?”

“You’re saying this is real?” he asked angrily. He took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose tightly. “Charlene!”

“I’m sorry!” she apologized, not really sorry. “We’re not lovers, anyway — it was one kiss. Who wrote the article?”

“You never kiss people you don’t know.” Clark turned the screen back to his face, scrolling down and shaking his head. “Jimmy wrote this one, I think, I recognize the alias. I should have known something was going to happen when I told him to follow you…”

“For the record, Clark, all I’ve ever wanted was to kiss you,” she snapped. “Bruce is just differe— you sent Jimmy to follow me!?” She was so engulfed in her defenses that she forgot she had just told Clark she had feelings for him. She didn’t even register the implication that they didn’t matter anymore. She was angry at Jimmy, and at Bruce, and at Clark. She grabbed a throw pillow and fluffed it furiously. She needed an outlet. “I can’t believe you.”

“It’s Bruce Wayne, Char,” he said. He set his tablet down on the coffee table. “He’s not exactly the safest guy to get involved with.”

“And neither were you! I appreciate the worry, but it’s misplaced.” She spun around to stick her finger at Clark accusingly. “For ten whole years I tried to tell you I was in love with you, Clark, so don’t even try to talk to me about what’s good for me! You hear? I can kiss Bruce Wayne if I want to.”

“You tell him, Char,” a small voice came from behind the TV stand. Charlene and Clark both froze. Charlene knew who that was. She did her best not to sigh.

Muffled, a much bigger voice complained, “Look what you did! Now we’re caught. Bruce is gonna —”

“Shh!”

Clark moved over and gently removed the TV stand. “Damian I expected, but you, Dick? That’s low. Spying on Charlene?” 

“She’s a friend of Father,” the young boy answered for his big brother. “After the gala, he went to brood in the Bat Cave and when he came up, he said she was going to be more involved.”

“I think he’ll be happy to hear you like him, Charlene,” Dick smiled. He extended his legs and sat like a toddler on the floor. “We came here on our own, by the way. We wanted to surprise you by picking you up and surprise him by bringing you to Gotham. We racked his schedule up with business meetings so that we could pull this off. Think of it as a rescue.”

“Surprise me,” she regurgitated. She wanted to cry, laugh, scream, and fall over all at once. “You wanted to surprise me.”

“Sure. Why not?” Damian shrugged. “But your friend, here, got in the way with all his mumbling and weird comments about our father. He’s scary but I could take him.” That comment made her smile. Damian taking on Clark. Dangerous, but it still tickled her mind.

“They were not weird —”

“Yeah, they were.” 

“Guys, guys,” Charlene interjected, “Bruce and I aren’t much more than friends. He’s just my knight in shining armor.” She tucked her hair behind her ear. “If anything were to happen, it would be very slow.” She made sure each male looked at her. “Very, very slow.” 

“So he does make you happy?” Clark asked quietly. 

“He does,” Charlene confirmed. “It could be more with work. Relax, Clark. You’re not going to be walking me down the aisle so soon.” 

He squeezed his eyes tightly, confusion coloring his face. “So when you said you used to want to kiss me…”

“It’s mostly ‘used to,’ now, yeah.” Charlene’s mouth moved before she even filed how truthful the statement was in her brain. She sat down on the couch, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “I hope that’s not an issue — I know you don’t approve of Bruce.”

Clark pursed his lips. He set his hands on his hips and looked at the two delinquents on Charlene’s floor. “The gala with you and Wayne wasn’t a full-on date. Was it?”

“He and I went to sponsor the same cause and spend time together as friends. It couldn’t have counted as a romantic date, anyway,” she said. “The boys spent more time talking to me than Bruce did.”

“I saw him kiss you, though —”

“Dick, shut up,” Damian hissed. “You’re not helping.”

Clark tried for a smile. “I just want you to be safe and happy, Charlene.”

Charlene nodded, feeling much better since the gala. She had made an impression on the Wayne family? “I know I will be.”

=-=-= Charlene, in the end, told the boys she wanted to stay at home and sent Clark back to the Daily Planet to do his work. She had a lot to think over. She took a seat in her loveseat and got comfortable. She had to sit there for a long while. A kiss with a billionaire, a concerned Kansas Chiefs fan, four young men who already looked up to her, and a melting pot of feelings. If this were a young adult novel, she would have already picked someone by now. She had roses in a vase that called her name. She had a heart that wanted her attention, too.

Her whole past screamed for her to let go of Clark Kent — she was learning to set those unrequited feelings aside. He had always looked out for her and been her friend. Sometimes friendship, in the end, was just friendship. Clark was in love with Lois Lane. By the looks of things, he was starting to grow closer to her. Stepping away from that, Charlene could see he was happy; for the first time in years, that didn’t sting as much as it had before. 

Then there was the new friendship: Bruce Wayne. He was more than a friend, but less than a romantic partner. His affection was a different brand than Clark’s in all the good ways. He brought some kind of freshness, a sense that she never had to pretend to be pulling herself together. She knew deep in her heart that Bruce would have a hard time being with her — she would find difficulty being with him, too. They had much in common, as well as a lot of differences. He saw through her, she saw through him. Charlene needed some kind of stability. She needed a friend that offered their hand instead of shared reliance. 

Clark was the bright summer’s day that you longed for in the winter; he was the smell of newly cut grass and the way a paintbrush head felt between someone’s fingers. He was khakis and ball caps and the colors in the sunrise. He had always been the simple pleasures in Char’s life. 

Bruce Wayne had already proved what he was. He was the necessity in life like the clap of thunder in the middle of the night or the hardwood floor on bare feet. Bruce was the crowded streets of Metropolis after dusk; he was petrichor after a much-needed rain, the thimble on your thumb, he was the flick of the light switch that you could never balance. He was the mundane, everyday wakeup call that life was buzzing everywhere around her.

That was the difference between Clark and Bruce. Charlene had always had Clark, but she could imagine life without him. When it came to the Batman, she had a hard time thinking about her life without the petrichor on concrete, the snippy wind on her ears, and the occasional clap of thunder. She didn’t need him, but he was her equal.

He was the equal. 

Not the hero. 

“I’ll have to tell him, then,” she sighed. Charlene buried her face in her hands. 

“Tell who what?” a gravelly voice came from behind her. His presence was close. Char leaned back and extended her hands. 

“You,” she said. Bruce pushed her hands back down, setting his own on the cushion behind her. “We need to talk about what happened at the gala, don’t we?” 

“I don’t see why,” he replied. “You know it was a public display of affection.”

“From the world’s Bruce Wayne,” Charlene countered. Bruce pressed his lips into a line. “Not mine.”

“I know. I figured if the world knew you were Bruce Wayne’s, it would give you a chance to find that time you wanted,” he said slowly. “The boys could teach you how to defend yourself. You’d always have a place at Wayne Manor.”

“But what about us?” she asked, turning to see him better. “C’mon, Bats, you know that kiss was a little more than just a well-rounded plan to turn me into a Bat-Person.”

The dark knight was still for a long second. “It was a moment’s weakness. Even if we wanted to pursue a relationship —”

“We both know we do.”

“— neither of us are ready for it.”

Charlene stood on the loveseat. She cupped Bruce’s face, holding his jaw with both palms. “I agree. I think we should take our time before we even worry about labeling this.”

“We cannot be involved.” He held her hands, prying them ever-so-gingerly from him. “You aren’t ready for the livestyles I come with. I’m not ready for that kind of —”

“Domesticity,” she said with him, nodding. “I know, I know. You don’t want to be a husband, I don’t want to be a wife. No, we can’t be involved, yet.” She rested on her forearms. “You can guess what that means.”

He smiled sadly. “You won’t come stay at Wayne Manor.”

“Not for extended periods of time,” she answered with the same bittersweet expression. Char stroked his cheek. He had been so open to her physical affection. “It wouldn’t really work the way we want it to.” 

“You mean Alfred will be asking about dress shopping?”

“I’ll be asking about dress shopping!” she teased. “Why are you here, exactly?”

“If I said that you no longer worked at the Daily Planet, what would you do?” he asked bluntly. 

Charlene stopped. “I would ask you to fix it, right now.”

He hummed. “You want Clark, still?”

“No,” she said defiantly. She crossed her arms. “I’m just not ready to date, yet.” Charlene was quickly learning how to own herself around Bruce. She felt at home, like he was at home in his spandex. Bruce made her feel like her own woman: strong, compassionate, and happy. If he could be her complement, she could do anything. Absolutely anything.

Bruce leaned in, smirking. Charlene hit him with a pillow, which he promptly caught. “Glad we’re on the same page.”

“Promise to try someday?” she teased.

“Maybe.”

[slashingdisneypasta]

Slashers / Horror Villains as: Animated (Children’s) Movie Villain Songs

+ A Nightmare Before Christmas 

First of all, its mostly Disney. Second of all, I hope you know that this was a struggle for me. 

Also, note, Bubba will be the only Leatherface in this post and Billy and Stu will be the only Ghostfaces. There is Norma Bates though, so sort of a consolation. 

There are links to videos on YouTube ^^

~~~

Billy Loomis and Stu Macher / Ghostface: Playing With the Big Boy’s Now (Hotep and Huy, Prince of Egypt) 

Well... they’re part of the ‘big boys’, now! They are part of the Slashers group that, uh, ‘inspired them’. Imagine instead of Egyptian Gods, they’re chanting Slasher names. 

[HUY] Pick up your silly twig, boy [HOTEP & HUY] You're playing with the big boys now! Ha ha ha ha!

[EGYPTIAN PRIESTS] By the power of Ra Mut, Nut, Khnum, Ptah Sobek, Sekhmet, Sokar, Selket Anubis, Anukis Hemsut, Tefnut, Meshkent, Mafdet... 

Chop Top and Nubbins + Bubba Sawyer / Leatherface: Kidnap Mr Sandy Claws (Lock, Shock and Barrel, Nightmare Before Christmas) 

I mean... they aren't Drayton’s minions, but they are like this XD 

I say that we take a cannon, aim it at his door And then knock three times And when he answers Sandy Claws will be no more

Yes you're so stupid, think now If we blow him up to smithereens We may lose some pieces And then Jack will beat us black and green

Kidnap the Sandy Claws Tie him in a bag

Chucky / Charles Lee Ray: In The Dark Of The Night (Rasputin, Anastasia)

Mystical man? Check! ‘Betrayal’ (As far as he sees it)? Check. Made them pay? Check; I think Nica, Sarah and all the other families he destroys throughout the franchise can attest to that. And ‘One little girl got away’? Well Andy isn’t a girl, but yeah. Check. 

I was once the most mystical man in all Russia When the royals betrayed me they mad a mistake My curse made each of them pay But one little girl got away Little Anya, beware Rasputin's awake

Drayton Sawyer: Don’t Fall In Love (Forte, Beauty and the Beast: The Enchanted Christmas) 

Its such a crochety, unessessarily rude way of describing relationships to someone! I mean, I understand completely and resonate deeply with the desire to be alone and not be responsible for anyone else, but- come on! Beast doesn't share your view! Let it go! 

Its just like Drayton’s reaction to Bubba having a crush. Super cool video too! 

As soon as your heart rules your head Your life is not your own It's hell when someone's always there It's bliss to be alone

And love of any kind is bad A dog, a child, a cat They take up so much precious time Now, where's the sense in that?

Freddy Krueger: No More Mr Nice Guy (Rothbart, Swan Princess) 

A man with an uncomfortable relationship with the main female character pretending to be normal and not homicidal for a while before unlocking more power and letting there inner bad guy loose and taking great pleasure in it? Sounds familiar. They also have a similar vocabulary- except of course Rothbart is rated G. 

I'll become that nasty, naughty, dirty, spiteful Wicked, wayward, way-delightful Bad guy I was born to be

Lyin' loathesome, never-tender Indiscreet repeat offender No more Mr Nice Guy That's not me 

Inkubus: The World’s Greatest Criminal Mind (Professor Rattigan, The Greatest Mouse Detective)

‘Inkubus’ is literally a movie about him listing all his crimes over the centuries and messing with the police force because he has a bone to pick with a detective. Sounds pretty similar to me! Listen to the song! ^^

Now comes the real tour de force Tricky and wicked, of course! My earlier crimes were fine for their times But now that I'm at it again An even grimmer plot has been simmering In my great criminal brain! 

Jason Voorhees: Despicable Me (About Gru, Despicable Me) 

I... this is all I could think of!! But the more I listen to it and read the lyrics... it f i t s Jason so well! XD Please just let this slide; I know Gru isn't really a villain but he is at the start!! Let me have this. 

Why ask why? Better yet "Why not?" Why are you marking x on that spot? Why use a blow torch isn't that hot? Why use a chainsaw? Is that all you got? Why do you like seeing people in shock? But my question to you is "Why not?" Why go to the bank and stand in line Just use a freeze gun it saves me time. I'm havin' a bad, bad day It's about time that I get my way Steam rollin' whatever I see, Huh, despicable me I'm havin' a bad, bad day If you take it personal that's okay Watch, this is so fun to see Huh, despicable me

Jennifer Check: Trust In Me (Kaa, The Jungle Book) 

She’s a succubus demon. Tempting boys into a safe-feeling, docile state so she she can strike is her thing. 

Will cease to resist Just relax Be at rest Like a bird In a nest

Trust in me Just in me Shut your eyes And trust in me

Mayor Buckman and Granny Boone: Savages (Governor Ratcliffe and the Colonizer’s parts, Pocahontas) 

Obviously, because of the (Inaccurate) historical relevance of both movies (Different time’s, same terrible prejudice,) and also because there is definitely a very cult-ish feel about both Governor Ratcliffe’s song and Buckman’s leadership. How easily they’re able to gather support from their people for the most horrible reasons. How horrifying it is to audiences and historians. 

They're only good when dead They're vermin, as I said And worse

They're savages! Savages!

Barely even human

Savages! Savages!

Drive them from our shore! They're not like you and me Which means they must be evil We must sound the drums of war!

Michael Myers: The Gospel Truth II (Muses about Hades, Hercules)

In a Disney movie, Michael would have others sing his song about him as he goes about his silent, determined walking XD 

If there's one God you don't want to get steamed up It's Hades 'Cause he had an evil plan He ran the underworld But thought the dead were dull and uncouth He was as mean as he was ruthless And that's the gospel truth He had a plan to shake things up And that's the gospel truth

Midnight Man: Oogie Boogie’s Song (Oogie Boogie, Nightmare Before Christmas)

A song about a “Gamblin’ Boogie Man” is perfect for the Midnight Man! He and Oogie could be pals. 

Woah! The sound of rollin' dice To me is music in the air 'Cause I'm a gamblin' Boogie Man Although I don't play fair It's much more fun, I must confess When lives are on the line Not mine, of course, but yours, old boy Now that'd be just fine

Norma Bates: Mother Knows Best Reprise (Mother Gothel, Tangled)

Norma is soooooo so so so unbelievably manipulative towards Norman (And Dylan. It just works better on Norman) and this song absolutely presents that. She can go from sweet, loving mother to spiteful, heinous bitch in two seconds if Norman or Dylan don't do what or react the way she wants them to. 

Likes you? Please, Rapunzel, that's demented

This is why you never should have left! Dear, this whole romance that you've invented, Just proves you're too naive to be here Why would he like you? Come on now, really! Look at you, you think that he's impressed? Don't be a dummy Come with mummy

Pamela Voorhees: My Lullaby (Zira, The Lion King 2)

In a opposite approach to a villainous mother to Norma, we have Pam, who was heartbroken by the camp councillors letting her son die and vowed to get revenge. She didn't know she was teaching Jason to be the Crystal Lake killer like Zira did, but she did, and the whole song does have her kind of feel to it also. 

Sleep, my little Kovu Let your dreams take wing One day when you're big and strong You will be a kingI've been exiled, persecuted Left alone with no defense When I think of what that brute did I get a little tense But I dream a dream so pretty That I don't feel so depressed 'Cause it soothes my inner kitty And it helps me get some rest

Patrick Bateman: Cruella De Vil (Arthur, 101 Dalmations) 

Never before was there a song that described audiences reaction to watching Patrick living in his daily life and hearing his thoughts better then this one. 

Cruella De Vil Cruella De Vil If she doesn't scare you No evil thing will To see her is to Take a sudden chill Cruella, Cruella De Vil

The curl of her lips The ice in her stare All innocent children Had better beware She's like a spider waiting For the kill Look out for Cruella De Vil

Pennywise (Both): You’re Only Second Rate (Jafar, Return of Jafar)

Mostly for the video and Jafar’s energy in this scene actually XD So many transformations, so many tasteless puns! I was going to give this to Freddy but its the closest thing to Penny I could think of. 

Go ahead and zap me with the big surprise Snap me in a trap, cut me down to size I'll make a great escape It's just a piece of cake You're only second rate You know your hocus-pocus isn't tough enough And your mumbo-jumbo doesn't measure up Let me pontificate upon your sorry state You're only second rate

Sheriff Hoyt / Charlie Hewitt: Hellfire (Judge Claude Frollo, Hunchback of Notre Dame) 

A nasty filthy man who think’s he’s in the right despite being the biggest creep and monster ever? Mhm. 

*Note: I honestly didn't notice the deformed baby, Quasimodo/Thomas link until the day after I wrote this. Don't know how I feel about it. I mean, Hoyt is actually nice, in his way, to Thomas so the connection isn't totally there but onwards:

Beata Maria You know I am a righteous man Of my virtue I am justly proud

Beata Maria You know I'm so much purer than The common, vulgar, weak, licentious crowd 

End of Post! 🌼

(Bonus’ under the cut) 

I did think of other connections which I obviously didnt landed on but still have merit! Here! 

Billy Loomis and Stu Macher: ‘Gaston’ was considered, but that would have just been a joke XD I don’t think Stu is quite as obsessed with Billy as LeFou is with Gaston. 

Chucky: Friends on the Other Side. Obviously! That link was actually what inspired me to make this post. In The Dark of Night fits to a T though. 

Freddy Krueger: You’re Only Second Rate! Ah, its perfectttt. But No More Mr Nice Guy fits better. If I ever do a Slashers as Disney Villains post, he’ll be Jafar for sure. Or Hades. Or Scar. Or Oogie. Probably Hades. You know what? Without the gore and blood and explicit sexual references, Freddy could be a Disney Villain himself. Its not like Disney hasn't towed the line before with perverted villains. >_> (Jafar and Frollo) 

Jason and Pamela Voorhees: Mother Knows Best! Of course. 

Jennifer Check: Love is For Peasants (Barbie Island Princess) Because Jennifer thinks like this: 

Men? <<< Literally anything else. 

Patrick Bateman: How Can I Refuse? (From Barbie Princess and the Pauper) XD If Patrick were a kids movie villain, he would totally join the ranks of corrupted usurpers pretending to be trustworthy royal advisory staff. Also ‘Let It Die’, that little interruption part of another song that O’Hare sings in the Lorax and ‘How Bad Can I be?’. 

[teawaffles]

The Fugitives from the Fire: Chapter 7

“You’ve been a big help, Holmes. I really appreciate it every time.”

After the case had been closed. With the truth uncovered, the furious locals had been mollified; somehow, they’d managed to avoid the worst-case scenario. Now Sherlock and Lestrade were on their way back in a carriage, and the inspector gave him a deep bow.

Facing him, the detective broke into a wry smile.

“You should be thanking Gregson. In various ways, today was certainly both unorthodox and entertaining, but don’t get me wrong — he was the star of the show.”

As he said that, Sherlock felt as though he were a mother bird watching her chick leave the nest. Perhaps Gregson hadn’t wanted to share a ride with him: after the incident had been wrapped up, the assistant inspector had already made preparations to leave.

Hearing that, Lestrade scratched his cheek as he nodded.

“That’s true as well. He often jumps to conclusions, but for today’s case, his information provided some big clues.”

“Not only that, the deductions he made towards the end were rather sharp. I did give him some hints about the trick; but the fact that he was able to reach those conclusions from that alone is a testament to his ability.”

Thinking back to Gregson’s successes, Sherlock’s expression softened into a smile. But suddenly, it morphed into a serious mien, and he stared out the window. Seeing that, Lestrade pursed his lips.

——Just before they’d left the scene of the crime. as Mike Myers was about to be hauled off into another carriage, Sherlock called out to him.

“Say, there’s something I wanted to ask you. Your methods were certainly novel…… But to carry them out, you had to purposely book a room below the victim’s. Moreover, you couldn’t be sure if the shot would be fatal after the bullet passed through the ceiling, and if the officers had been deployed differently, you wouldn’t even have been able to carry out your plan — I get the feeling there were an awful lot of places where you were banking on pure luck. To be frank, it was your misfortune that the bullet had exited the body, since the wound’s condition allowed us to eliminate the possibility of suicide. Though, it would’ve been difficult to even go so far as to calculate whether the bullet would pass through completely.”

“…………”

Stopped in his tracks, Mike gazed at the detective with an oddly cold stare.

Sherlock continued. “Also, I’m not quite convinced of your motive: although your face was burned, if the three of you were rounded up as suspects and placed in an identity parade before the other fugitive, he would’ve ratted you out immediately. We’d conducted the investigation on the assumption that you wanted to silence him, but was that really your objective?”

Mike responded in an ominously quiet tone.

“Banking on luck, huh. You’re absolutely right: I was doubtful myself as to whether this plan would succeed.”

“Oh? Then why did you do it?”

Mike looked vacantly at the sky.

“Why, you ask? If I had to say—— it’s because I wanted to try it.”

“……You just wanted to try it?”

“When we went at that inn after hearing rumours about the Yard, this plan suddenly came to me. So I booked a different room from him, and only told him the escape plan for when the bobbies arrived. Then when I was sure the police were nearby, I started the fire without telling him……. Part of me wanted to avoid being sold out. But more than that, it was fun setting up this kind of scheme.”

“You mean to say, you killed for fun?”

“It’s a strange feeling. I know murder is bad; until now, even though I’ve committed numerous crimes, I’ve never hurt anyone for no reason. But after joining that attack on the department store the other day, when I saw that man, Jake Voorhees — something within me changed……. No, it was crushed.”

“……This Jake, he’s the mastermind behind that incident, huh.”

“That guy worked according to a different set of morals from the rest of us. To inflict such sickening cruelty without blinking…… Even as it disgusted me, it made me wonder if the ethics and morals I believed in were, in fact, nothing more than frightfully small and silly ideas.”

“…………”

“Well, if I think about it more, I’m sure there are many other reasons. But I killed him because I wanted to. That’s my motive, Mr Detective.”

Mike uttered those words in an intensely gentle voice, before he was taken away and put onto a carriage. Both Sherlock and Lestrade looked on in disgust.

——Thinking back to that horrifying exchange, a grave silence descended over them.

“……A senseless murder is truly frightening.”

“More than that, this Jake was truly abnormal to have been able to influence him to that extent.”

He didn’t want to talk about this case any more than he had to, and so Sherlock Holmes kept his mouth shut. The truth had left a bad taste in his mouth, as well as an agitation in his heart. Just then, he recalled one of the suspects from the case.

Judging from how the events leading up to the crime had unfolded, it was highly likely that someone had led the two fugitives to the inn. Sherlock had supposed it’d be the “Lord of Crime” who would do such a thing, but his objectives for doing so were yet unclear.

The only element he could think of was that man, Jerry Dorff…….

“In the end, who was he……?”

“Hm? What’re you talking about?”

Sherlock shook his head. “Never mind. It’s about a trifling ‘riddle’. Anyway, I’m sure he’s long gone by now.”

“………?”

The detective put an end to the conversation; a short while later, the carriage arrived outside his apartment. It was now late into the evening, and the setting sun shone across the home he’d grown so familiar with, dyeing it in a warm colour. Today’s extraordinary case and that troublesome companion had drained him, both physically and mentally; without realising it, Sherlock let out a huge sigh.

“Well then, please send my regards to that naggy assistant inspector. And tell him I’ll never be his assistant again.”

“Gregson told me the same thing as well. I’ll be seeing you then, if there’s a case.”

“Yeah. I’ll be waiting for a tough one.”

Saying his goodbyes, Sherlock stepped off the carriage, and Lestrade bowed once again. Then, after he signalled the driver, the carriage set off at a brisk pace through the city streets.

Sherlock waited until it disappeared around a corner to send him off. Then he entered the building, climbing the stairs while gently rotating his shoulders, and opened the door to his apartment.

“O—i, I’m done for the day~”

As he listlessly announced his return home, two familiar voices called back out to him.

“Welcome home.”

“Welcome back……. Also, I’m home, Sherlock.”

He looked inside, and saw John H Watson standing there with a kind smile on his face. Apparently, he’d also just arrived home.

“Oh, good work today, both of you.”

As he looked at his partner’s face, at long last, Sherlock felt himself unwind all the way to the very depths of his heart. Replete with exhaustion, he sank into his armchair.

Such was the state of Sherlock before him, and John spoke up in apology.

“Sorry; I heard it was a difficult case today, yet I couldn’t accompany you.”

“It’s alright. It’s not like you can be here all the time, anyway: there’re times like this too.”

“……I see.”

Perhaps John had been anticipating a barrage of grumbles and complaints; in response, he gave Sherlock a slightly relieved, or perhaps even lonely smile.

Picking up on that delicate and complicated mesh of emotions, the detective continued.

“……After all, you’re my only partner, John.”

At those words, John went a little pink.

“I-I see……. Hearing that face to face, is a little embarrassing.”

“Yeah, somehow it sounds like the greatest detective in the world wants his assistant to be his lifelong companion, huh.”

Miss Hudson had said that in a teasing tone, and in a breath, the atmosphere had settled into an amicable one. Breaking into a smile, Sherlock was just about to crack a retort — when the face of that assistant inspector, with whom he’d spent more than half a day, surfaced in his mind.

In an instant, his entire body felt heavy as lead.

“Aah, in the end, it’s a good thing you’re my partner…… At least, I’ll never pair up with that guy again.”

As John and Miss Hudson smiled before him, Sherlock muttered in a somewhat weary tone.

[wingsofhcpe]

whumptober day 2- choking

fandom: shadow & bone

pairing: fivan [ivan x fedyor kaminsky]

rating: T+

additional warnings: blood, injury, gore

you can also read here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34208404/chapters/85175464#workskin

[tagging @camilleisback upon request <3]

He makes it out of the Fold by the skin of his teeth. He uses everything that he has at his disposal; his powers, his experience, even the little bit of faith to the Saints he has retained over the years. It’s enough to get him out in the end, but not enough to make sure he does so unscathed.

Ivan crawls the last few meters away from the outer reaches of the Shadow Fold, tendrils of darkness still clinging to his clothes -or whatever has remained of them, anyway- as if they’re trying to pull him back into the hell he just barely escaped. He knows it’s all in his mind; the Fold isn’t sentient, although it houses sentient forms of life. Still, if there’s even the slightest possibility that something, be it the darkness or its monstrous inhabitants, may appear out of nowhere and drag him back inside, he knows with mortifying certainty he’ll be unable to get away a second time. All of his strength, his willpower, the force of his very life, is spent. It’s quite literally bleeding out of him as he collapses for good between the abandoned ruins of Novokribirsk’s outer reaches, the thick red liquid soaking into the barren ground. Within the haze of pain and exhaustion that muddles his thoughts, Ivan realises what poetic justice means; he helped cause this disaster. He helped drain all life out of this ground. Now, he’s giving it all back with his own blood. That’s alright, he thinks. It’s the circle of life, after all; when someone dies, their essence returns to the Making at the Heart of the World. Their life force seeps back into the heartbeat that makes the earth turn, that moves the waters, feeds the animals, drives the Grisha. They must all return to it when they’re ready.

And Ivan is ready. He really is. He is content to be sacrificing himself for General Kirigan’s righteous purpose, for the good of all the Grisha, for the safety of everyone in Ravka. He’s content to be reunited with his deceased brothers, his father, his uncle. And he would have been content to leave this cold, cruel world behind, if it wasn’t for one thing. One mere little thing that’s still holding him back. That is making him think he’s not yet ready to leave this plane of existence.

He doesn’t want to leave Fedyor behind.

It’s foolish, really. They’re soldiers, and the knowledge that one or both of them will most likely meet an untimely death, far out of reach from the other, has been ever-present in their relationship even before they made their feelings known. It had all been a silly little fantasy, a comforting but naïve dream, thinking that they may get the chance to grow old together, to die in bed held in each other’s arms after living to see Ravka in peace. Ivan had always believed himself to be a pragmatist, if not a pessimist- but this dream, this hope… Fedyor had almost made him believe they would get their happy ending. And now… it hurt. It hurt to think that he would leave Fedyor behind. That his death would extinguish his beloved’s warm, bright smile. That it would break his heart.

What Ivan wouldn’t have given to be able to speak to Fedyor one last time. To say all the things he may have kept to himself all those years. ‘I love you’. ‘You’re the light of my life’. ‘There is nothing more important to me than you are’. Fedyor knows already, and Ivan is aware. But still- he has been frugal with words of affection. Fedyor deserved so much more than his silent. Sometimes actions may speak louder than words, but others, you need to hear those words from someone’s lips. Words are comfort; words are a promise. Ivan didn’t realise until now. But now it’s too late, far too late.

Ivan closes his eyes as the sun sets below the horizon, somewhere to his left. Part of him mourns its descent; he already misses the warmth, the light. The sun… Fedyor is his sun. The Starkov girl, the traitor, may be the Sun Summoner, but nothing she does will ever come close to the warmth radiance that Fedyor emits just by existing.

“F-Fedya…” Ivan chokes on his own blood, sputtering and coughing until his lungs feel like they’re on fire. He knows he’s alone, and that Fedyor can’t hear him. But he wants to speak his beloved’s name just once more. A prayer, a goodbye.

Darkness seems to ebb out of the Fold and engulf the world around him, but it is just the night. Simply the natural order of things. Ivan gradually begins to shiver, his temperature dropping by the minute due to blood loss as well as the lack of a proper heating source. He groans softly; the little spasms that run through his body make the pain worse, make his wounds feel as if they’re being torn anew over and over again. But soon even those weak sounds fade, his strength nowhere nearly enough even for that. It’s barely enough to keep him breathing. To keep his heart beating.

The hours pass, or at least he thinks so; he cannot be sure. When he hears the distant sound of hoofbeats on the ground, he initially dismisses it as a hallucination, or perhaps even Death itself riding on its black steed to come claim his soul. But then something else tugs at the corners of his senses; a sound as familiar as breath, as life itself. A heartbeat he would be able to recognise even if he was already dead.

Ivan wants to stand. He wants to shout, to draw the attention of the one person that’s still keeping him tied to this world, that is making life worth living. But he cannot move- he cannot even speak. He can only lay in silence and pray with all of his might to whatever Saint is still watching over him, that Fedyor will detect his heartbeat just as Ivan detected his. That he won’t just ride right past him, leaving him to die alone, and cold, and in so much pain.

Don’t leave me. Fedya, please, don’t leave me.

Call it a miracle, call it divine intervention, or just luck. But the sounds that have stirred Ivan from his dying slumber draw closer and closer, until there’s no further doubt- it’s not a hallucination. It is real. This is real. He’s not alone.

A voice, a familiar and adored voice, calls his name. Fedyor is suddenly kneeling on the ground next to him, the flickering light of a traveling lantern illuminating his face. His eyes are brimming with tears, and all he repeats, over and over, is Ivan’s name.

“Vanya, my Vanya. It’s alright. I’m here now. You’ll be okay my love, I promise.”

Strong arms lift him slowly, as carefully as possible, and Ivan hears his own voice distantly as he cries out. Saints, the pain- it’s unlike anything he has ever experienced before. He feels his insides may drop out of his body from the gaping wounds across his chest and stomach, and he’s not certain whether or not his right arm is still properly attached to his body. It surely doesn’t feel like it is. But Fedyor whispers words of comfort to him, even as Ivan chokes and coughs up more blood. He cannot reply, although he dearly wants to; he wants to thank Fedyor, he wants to ask him not to leave him, to be gentle because oh, it all hurts so bad. And even though he’s unable to talk, and can only stare at his beloved pleadingly through blurry eyes, Fedyor understands. Fedyor has always understood, and now it’s no exception. He presses a soft kiss on Ivan’s blood-streaked brow, and sets himself to work.

Ivan flashes in and out of conscience while Fedyor and his Grisha companions clean and bandage his wounds. Even amidst unconsciousness, however, Ivan can feel his partner’s steady, unwavering and comforting presence. And he knows, now, that everything will be okay.

The next time Ivan comes properly around, the pain has subsided. Someone has lit a fire between the ruins that have offered shelter to the group, and there’s something soft and warm enveloping him. It takes him a moment to realise it’s Fedyor’s kefta, having replaced his own torn and ruined clothes. Fedyor himself is holding him in his arms, humming a soft Fjerdan lullaby- one that Ivan had sung to him during a particularly bad injury, while the Healers at the Little Palace had been patching Fedyor up. Despite himself, despite everything, Ivan’s lips twitch into a small smile. Fedyor smiles back, and leans down to gently bump their noses together.

“I’m here, lapushka.” He says reassuringly, as if he knows it’s just what Ivan needs to hear. The latter sucks in a wobbly breath, but Fedyor immediately shakes his head.

“No, don’t try to talk now. Just rest. I’ll stay with you.”

There’s no need for words between them, as there has never been. But Ivan silently promises, both to Fedyor and himself, that as soon as he regains his ability to speak, he’s going to tell Fedyor every day how much he loves him, how much he means to him, how thankful he is that Fedyor didn’t abandon him out here in the darkness and the cold.

Before sleep overtakes him, he swears he won’t ever again leave those words unspoken.

[quillandink333]

Scarlet Carnations ~ Part I

BotW Link X Zelda ~ Detective AU

Rating: T

Word Count: 2.9k

WARNINGS: death, murder, loss, trauma, blood and gore, terrorism, organized crime, self-harm

Summary: Inspector Zelda Hyrule, assisted by the faithful Constable Link Fyori, is infamous for cracking the most confounding of cases in a town dominated by crime. Her latest assignment is to solve the murder of her own godmother, Impa Sheikah, the late CEO of Sheikah Tech. Incorporated, while staying under the radar of the dreaded Yiga organization.

Part I • Part II • Part III • Part IV • Part V • Part VI • Part VII • Epilogue • Masterlist

A deafening blast jolted me out of my slumber. I snapped upright.

As a member of law enforcement, I was painfully familiar with the sound of a gunshot, and that was exactly what I’d just heard.

I strained my ears with bated breath, trying to hear over my own thundering heartbeat.

Loud, frantic footsteps raced down creaky, wooden stairs. Then a terrified scream filled the halls of my childhood home.

I tore away the sheets and rushed to where the scream seemed to have come from. When I reached the parlour was when I stumbled upon the scene. There, right at the foot of my mother’s memorial, was my godmother’s cold, lifeless corpse. Kneeling beside her was her granddaughter, Paya, weeping into her open palms in shock.

Only a minute or two had passed since I’d awoken at the sound of gunfire. “Wait here,” I ordered, then made a break for the front entrance, the nearest and most instinctual escape route.

But when I threw the doors open, there wasn’t a soul to be found.

I returned to the parlour with my tail between my legs. Then my toe hit something heavy and metallic that clacked underfoot. When I looked down and saw what it was, I froze. With caution, I ever so slowly stepped away from the weapon.

“Great...” I muttered, seeing as now it would have my toe prints on it. But the longer I looked at it, I realized I’d seen this revolver somewhere before.

Then it hit me. It hit me like a two-ton train car.

I quickly made sure Paya’s head was turned. Then with terribly trembling hands, I did what I had to do and carefully tucked it away in my nightgown.

I’d feared the precinct wouldn’t allow me to participate in the investigation seeing as I’d been on the scene at the time of the crime. However, it seemed they trusted me enough to even appoint me as the lead investigator. Granted, I had done a lot to earn their trust over the past three years, but this was unheard of.

Nevertheless, I decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth. The next morning, at seven o’clock sharp, I returned to the scene of the crime equipped with all the necessary tools of my trade.

I looked out the window of the cramped police buggy at our destination in utter astoundment. There were already droves of officers there, awaiting the arrival of me and my partner. The sight of the place I’d once called home being chained off and hidden from the public like this was jarring, to say the least. Of all the strange crime scenes I’d seen, this was the strangest. I never could’ve imagined I’d be returning here, not to eat Auntie Impa’s delicious pork buns or to hear Auntie Purah talk about her latest technological endeavours, but for work. How could I have?

“Zelda! Good—good morning!” greeted a rather skittish Paya when she opened the door for us.

“Good morning, Paya.”

She nearly lost her smile when she noticed Constable Fyori standing beside me. “Please, come in.” She stepped aside, and he and I entered into the low-ceilinged yet stately vestibule, removing our shoes and leaving them by the door. “Can I get either of you anything? Some tea, maybe?”

My assistant opened his mouth, but I raised a hand, silencing him. “Thank you, but that won’t be necessary. We have important business to take care of.”

“Oh, yes, of course! Silly me,” she chortled. “I’ll let you get to it, then.”

The first order of business was to examine the body. In most cases, a specialist would be needed to perform an autopsy, but unlike most inspectors, I had the forensic knowhow to take care of it myself. One might have said this was a side effect of my hobbies and my avid interest in all things related to science that I’d harboured since grade school. However, a full autopsy complete with the weighing of the body and the removal of the organs would come later. For now, it would suffice to determine two simple things: the time of death and the cause of death.

But before I could even get close to the body, I was stopped by my assistant, who grabbed me gently by the arm.

“You don’t have to do this,” he uttered in his typical, mousy tone. “I can call for someone else to come and take care of it for you.”

The look of real and profound concern seated deep in his aquamarine eyes pulled at my heartstrings. It had been a year, roughly, since he’d first begun working under me. He was always so worried for me, and I always felt terrible because of it. I unhooked his hand from my arm, putting on a warm smile. “I’ll be okay, Link.”

He looked at me as if to ask, “Are you sure?”

“Really, it’s fine. Don’t worry,” I insisted. “Thank you, though.” This finally got him to return my smile, albeit only briefly.

I already had a decent estimate of the time of death. The period we were looking at was between half ten at night, when the last person awake (which had just so happened to be me) had gone to bed, and three in the morning, when the gunshot had given me that rude awakening. Really I should have examined the body as soon as I’d discovered it. In most other cases I worked on, I even wished I’d been the first on the scene, before the stiff had yet to even go stiff. Of course, the one time I happened to be one of the first to discover a murder, it had to be like this.

And yet, until I knew who was responsible for this atrocity, grieving could wait.

Right off the bat, I could tell that this had been a homicide. This may have seemed obvious to someone like Paya, but as a detective, I’d had to forcefully train myself to assume nothing and question everything. Based on the characteristics of the hole running straight through her neck, however, I determined that the gun had been shot from too far a distance for it to have been suicidal. Auntie Impa’s arms simply weren’t long enough.

But for a death caused by hemorrhage from a severed jugular vein, there was a shockingly small amount of blood. The rush-woven mat beneath her was nearly spotless, and I knew from experience how difficult it was to get stains out of these mats. Even when I checked underneath the mat, there was still nothing. No blood, and no bullet.

With a final nod, I stood up and signalled the other officers to take the body away.

“Now, let’s see here...” I said to myself, scanning the area immediately surrounding the corpse before approaching my mother’s altar. But when I laid eyes on the damage it had sustained, I stumbled back.

Though she hadn’t been a follower of the same faith held by the Sheikahs, my mother’s memory had been enshrined here because, like myself, they’d been like a second family to her.

With all due caution, I picked up what remained of her photograph. The glass was shattered, and a bullet had completely erased her face.

If this wasn’t a sign of the Yiga organization, I didn’t have a clue what was. Who else would’ve borne such ill will toward Hilda Hyrule, the town’s beloved last mayor who’d been dead ever since the tragic “accident” at City Hall eighteen years prior? That massacre had been what had ushered in their age of power, and with no one left to stand in their way, they’d been terrorizing the city ever since.

Before I’d even had the chance to begin my analysis, I heard Paya’s timid footsteps shuffling up to me. “Zelda?” she whispered, obnoxiously tapping her finger on my shoulder. “Excuse me...”

I turned my head and forced a grin. “What is it?”

“Umh, I didn’t know he’d be accompanying you today.” I didn’t even have to follow her gaze to know who she was eyeing.

I suppressed a sigh. “Constable Fyori is my partner,” I reminded her politely. “I take him with me on all of my investigations.”

“Yes, I know, but...” Now her gaze was nervously flitting back and forth between me and Link. “I-I wasn’t prepared to see him again after so long. What if—what if he says something to me?”

“He won’t,” I huffed. “Now, if you don’t mind.”

“Oh my, I’m so sorry,” she fretted. “I’ll get out of your hair.” I gave her a nod of the head in thanks, and she kindly stepped back and out of my space. But even after that, I could still feel her intense stare from across the room. I let out the sigh I’d been holding in. Sure, Paya was irritating, and I was going on maybe four or five hours of sleep at most, but there was no excuse for me to be irrational, especially since it would get me nowhere in my line of thinking. What I wouldn’t have done for a nice, hot cup of chamomile at that moment.

Based on the extreme angle of the bullet’s trajectory, one could tell at a glance where the shooter had to have been positioned. They’d have been standing above the altar with very little space between the two—definitely not enough for an entire person. Therefore the bullet that had taken the victim’s life had to have been a different one. This was backed up by the absence of any blood around the hole or anywhere else on the shrine. So why had I only heard one gunshot that night? And where in the world was the bullet responsible for Auntie Impa’s death if not on the scene of the crime?

After photographing the hole and scribbling my thoughts and observations down in my notebook, I began the procedure of extracting the bullet from the altar. This was a delicate task, one that I admittedly had a hard time trusting anyone else in the force with. Once I’d succeeded in retrieving the bullet, I determined it was of the same calibre as the one that had passed through the victim’s throat, meaning it was likely that it had been fired from the same gun. Unfortunately, all these facts corresponded with the weapon I’d found on the scene mere hours ago, two chambers of which were empty. There may have been no prints left on the trigger, but even so, I simply didn’t have it in me to run a striation comparison.

Standing up straight and taking a quick, deep breath, I turned to my assistant, who seemed to be investigating the mantelpiece. “Right, then, Fyori.” He turned his head as I approached him. “Anything to report?”

“No, madam,” he replied solemnly, avoiding my gaze and peering straight ahead over the top of my head.

“Is that so...?” I tapped the end of my pen against my chin habitually. “We seem to have a dreadfully diligent killer on our hands.” I gave the room another once-over from where I stood beside him. “You’ve been thorough in your search as always, I presume?”

“Of course.”

“And you found nothing? Not even a fingerprint?”

“No, I’m afraid not.”

“Then let’s move on,” I sighed, turning toward the doorway leading out into one of the building’s many corridors. He followed, just a few paces behind me. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to check since we got here.”

“That’s strange...” muttered Auntie Purah as she jumped through the footage captured by the front entrance’s security camera. “Symin, did I miss something?”

The Sheikah estate’s security supervisor shook his head. “Not that I could see.”

“Let me check it again.”

But even when she rewound and skipped through it a second time, the only person to appear was still myself on my initial search for the killer. Link gave me a furtive glance. I smiled at him in reassurance.

“Perhaps the other cameras caught something,” I suggested. “It would make sense that the culprit wouldn’t want to simply waltz right in through the front door.”

Auntie Purah looked to Symin. “Well, there are three other cameras, but two of them are so far removed from the scene that I doubt they’d be of much help.”

“And the third?” I asked, reaching for my notebook and something to write with.

“That would be the courtyard camera.”

“Ah, perfect!” The courtyard was located at the very centre of the property and served as an intersection between the four main hallways. “That one’s bound to have caught something. Let’s see.”

But this, too, would turn out fruitless. Throughout the night, there wasn’t even the shadow of a clue as to the killer’s movements.

“This...” I gaped. “This is impossible.” I knew for a fact that this particular model of camera was designed for the very purpose of protecting its footage from being altered or obstructed. Could the killer have made themselves invisible somehow?

“I don’t believe it.” Auntie Purah shook her head creakily. “Our company takes great pride in the reliability of our security cameras!”

Enraged, the tiny, old lady tried to stand up from her seat. Then a loud crack resounded throughout the cramped surveillance office. She screamed.

“Miss Purah, please calm down,” urged the kindly Symin, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Are you alright?”

“Yes,” she seethed, adjusting her glasses. “Thank you.” I didn’t know the man as well as I did the rest of the family as he had become a part of it a few years after I’d left the nest. However, it seemed like he would make a fine successor to Auntie Impa’s role of keeping her elder sister’s enduring impulsivity in check.

“There’s no reason to worry, Auntie. This is no fault of yours or your company’s,” I said, hoping to ease her pain a little. She’d suffered a terrible loss, and it was taking a great toll on her. It was difficult to watch such a brilliant mind come undone because of something like this. But after hearing my words, she looked up at me with a wrinkly smile. “My partner and I will just have to do an even more thorough inspection of the property tomorrow.”

The ride back to the precinct wasn’t a pleasant one. By the end of the day, my own mind had deteriorated into a swirling whirlpool of confusion, resentment, and woe. The investigation so far had borne so little results, it was hard to imagine that tomorrow’s search would be that much more successful. Of course there was still so much more that needed to be looked into, but right now, I just couldn’t see this turning out well. I still hadn’t solved the mystery behind my mother’s death in eighteen long years. Why, in this case, would I prove to be any less of a failure?

I curled my fists against my legs, trying my hardest to forget about the empty feeling in my stomach. Despite this, I knew I didn’t have the energy to do much more rational thinking today, if any at all.

Then my colleague broke the silence. “She was important to you, wasn’t she?” he asked, but such a personal question was strangely out of character for him.

“Yes.” I smiled sorrowfully into my lap. “I never really thought of her as a mother figure,” I admitted, “but she did put a lot of time and effort into raising me, in my actual mother’s stead.”

“She must’ve been a wonderful person.”

This made me laugh, to both his and my surprise. “Well, she would often scold me and Paya with the strictest attitude you can imagine, but I suppose she always had our best interests at heart.”

The longer I thought about Auntie Impa, the more I mulled over who could possibly have wanted her dead. She had already been getting on in age. Had the perpetrator’s need to kill her really been that dire? The only time people ever went that far was when their victim’s life would’ve put them in danger somehow if they’d have allowed them to go on living. But then again, there was the Yiga organization. They went around committing murders a couple times every week for seemingly no reason other than to flaunt their power. Perhaps Auntie Impa really had been just another one of their prey. Even so, I couldn’t shake the suspicion that there was more to it than that.

“Don’t you think it’s strange?”

The constable cocked his head, but kept his eyes on the road.

But then I stopped myself. There was still no proof of the Yiga’s involvement, so there was no point in bringing it up now. “Well, all of it is quite strange, frankly,” I amended. “The lack of blood, the missing bullet...”

“Could the killer have moved the body from somewhere else, perhaps?” he tentatively suggested.

“Very good, Link. That’s exactly what I’ve been theorizing.” The tips of his ears flushed, and he seemed to shrink back into his seat a little. “Oh, but then...wouldn’t that make it more likely for the cameras to have caught something?”

“That is true,” he concurred. “And there’s still been no sign of the murder weapon?”

I swallowed hard. “No...” My eyes flickered down toward my briefcase. “None.”

[danddymaro]

Returning home | Leone Abbacchio x Reader

First Part  : Abba Finding out about a Secret Child

Reader insert // Your name // (Y/n)

Daughter’s name // (D/n)

Thoughts are italics in quotations = ‘Example’

Flashbacks are in italics = Example

Word Count :  1711

The reader makes the trip back home greeted by none other than the man she’d left behind.

(f/n) did her best to give her daughter the world, forcing herself to show the world a smile that truly didn't match up with her heart, all for her child's sake.

Because, while Leone had broken her own heart, it was no reason to let her own child go through the same wretched pain.

'You'll never know he rejected you.' (f/n) mused, watching her little girl as she opened up her eyes to her mother, the baby releasing little whimpers that begged for attention,

'You'll never know the feeling...' The woman then thought to herself, all while eyeing the beautiful golden orbs which were nearly identical to the mafioso's own gaze.

"It breaks my heart to see you...to know that you'll more than likely be the spitting image of him, and not just what I see now," She started,

" But his smile as well...

His way of seldom...

Even his way of chewing...

- All the stupid little habits he'd acquired throughout the years," (f/n) chuckled with tears in her eyes, "I can already tell that you'll somehow be just like him." she mused.

"In fact, I might just break down the first time you curse at someone!" She added, all while laughing, amused at her own stupidity.

" Oh, My love, When you take your first bite of Margherita Pizza... I just know you'll love it too! It'll be your favorite! " (f/n) then said while throwing her head back, "...And I'll just think of Leone," She murmured while still facing up at the ceiling, her eyes momentarily closed as she thought of the man.

" I'll think of the silly way he'd accidentally take a bite of his own hair, which is just so similar to yours my dear..." She said with the same touch of softness, saddened eyes gazing up at the roof,

" I'll cry my eyes out when you beg me to teach you how to make it...

because...

because...

he'd taught me how to make it just right!" she said while the tip of her index and thumb met, the universal signal of perfection being made,

"I couldn't eat anyone else's besides your papa's classic recipe... as silly as it sounds," She admitted, trailing her gaze back down to her sweetly gurgling angel.

" Oh (d/n)... I'll break down...

I just know it." She said with certainty, the pads of her fingers trailing down the side of (d/n)'s chubby cheek,

" I just hope you never see it, and if you do catch a glimpse of my tears...I hope you never remember them." She said with melancholy.

"I'd pray you never ask about him...but I know that eventually, you will." She said with a small grimacing grin,

" I know one day you'll ask why every other child gets to have both parents, all while your mother remains the same lonely fool I am now," (f/n) said while shaking her head,

"Please...don't hate me," (f/n) breathed, " Please just... whatever you do...

Don't hate me.

You can be similar to him in every way you want, just promise me that unlike him, you won't push me away..." She said with falling tears, holding her little girl close to her chest.

"Promise me that you will always love your mother, ok?"

(f/n) had felt anxious throughout the entire route back to the place she had once called home, her heart tightening more the closer she drew, because she knew that it was inevitable.

She was well aware that eventually, she'd be face to face with him.

She had expected it, but even then while she was before him, she froze.

When he was the first to greet her, she found herself unable to properly function, rigidly standing beneath the golden gaze of the man she'd left behind, the woman nearly struck stupid,

" Ah... Leone," (f/n) said with a follow-up of a short, single cough, her eyes drawing away from him as her hold on her sleeping child tightened.

" (F/n)," he said back, sounding flat as he tried to hold himself together.

He felt his heart race, his stomach being in twisted knots as he got a clear view of his sleeping child as well as the beauty before him.

To him, (f/n) hadn't changed much, except in the aspect that now, after all the time she'd been away, she now held an alluring air that left him intoxicated, his entire body which had once been touched by her, itching to step even closer.

He could then see her face visually fall as her bottom lip was tucked beneath her teeth at his rather curt response, and it made his breath hitch.

'I see,' She thought to herself, feeling her heart slowly cracking, the last bits of what had remained being stepped on by his own two feet.

' You don't seem to want to be here.' she mused, feeling it best to leave in order to spare him the effort of putting up an act.

However, she was stuck wanting to stay, but not wanting to stay all the same.

She was itching to hold him, but stopped by the aloofness he presented himself with, taking it all as an indication that he was unaffected by her, and much more the child in her arms.

'It's not as though I expected him to run to me...

To greet me with a kiss...

To have him ... I...' She stopped her train of thought, inwardly cursing at herself for even having had the slightest bit of hope.

She nodded with understanding, her eyes shut tight for just a moment before she seemed to stare at him dead on, when in reality they glanced above him, too weak to align with his,

"I'm here to speak with Bucciarrati, " She said firmly, her voice thickened slightly as the knot in her throat began to clump it.

'That's what I'm here for,' She told herself, trying to convince herself that it was the only thing she'd come back for.

"- He's not here," he stated, and as soon as the words left him she turned, quickly hiding her face of dejection and disappointment, " Then I'll come back later," She said quietly, choosing to retreat, not wanting to sit through the discomfort and pain.

' Shit.' Leone cursed, ' Shit, shit, shit, No,' he thought to himself, knowing he was screwing up his chance already.

" (f/n) please, wait ! " he told her, his tone begging, something that made her eyes round, the female halting her steps as she heard the loud plea.

" Don't go," he begged her, his voice resonating with an air of desperation that could be detected a mile away.

" I've missed you...I've missed you so, so much," he confessed to her, a hand clutching his chest as he tried to relieve the ache that had begun as soon as he'd seen her draw away from him.

" I'm an idiot when it comes to this," he admitted,

"But ..." He started, taking in a long, low breath,

" But I'm sorry. I'm sorry I was a piece of shit to you.

I'm sorry I missed out on so much.

I'm sorry I wasn't there for you.

I'm sorry that...

I'm sorry there's too much for me to apologize for," He said while he stepped towards her, moving only by a single step before he watched her stand stiffly still, her breath halted for just a moment as she collected herself before turning back to him, her body trembling all the while.

"I'm sorry that I never told you I loved you," he went on, keeping his eyes glued to her widened (e/c) colored ones,

" I'm sorry that during all the time we were together, I was too stupid to see how much I was hurting you," He told her.

"You didn't deserve it...Just like I didn't deserve you,"

"Leone," she breathed in disbelief.

It felt strange to stand before him while being so bashful, her face suddenly glowing as she felt younger, smaller, and inexperienced as though it was the first time she'd ever laid eyes on him.

chuckling softly, he thought back to their first kiss, remembering she'd made the same sweet expression that had been caught between surprise as well as joy, and so much more he didn't properly appreciate back then,

The lilac of his lipstick smudged over the corner of her lips, and he couldn't help but chuckle at the color invading her face and staining it pink.

"Your first?" He asked her, sounding cocky, pridefully gazing at her flustered daze, finding it utterly adorable.

"No," She breathed before giggling, fingers touching her tingling, purple-stained lips,

" Just the best," she revealed to him, backing away from him, playfully grinning before he reached her, giving her another press, the second time holding her so tightly she could feel his muscles flex.

His lips fell over her, softly grazing hers until she responded back, slowly at first before she came to, not having realized how much they'd gravitated towards each other until she tasted the familiar addicting savor of his mouth.

"Leone..?" She murmured again, small, light tears falling down her face.

'You...You really mean to tell me that all this time.. all this time you thought of me too?' She thought with a heavy heart.

Stepping back, he offered her a soft smile, one that became even gentler as he noticed a pair of large, glossy eyes blinking up at him, eyeing him curiously.

"Mamma?" (d/n) asked, her voice soft and sweet, though still laced with sleep,

"Who's that?" she murmured, wondering just who was the man that stood before her mother.

(f/n) had always figured she'd bawl at the question, but somehow she held back her tears, a soft smile coming into play as she gently wiped back the little tears that had escaped earlier,

"(d/n)..." (f/n) started, introducing the little girl to the man before her,

- the same one whose eyes shined, nearly tearing up, but holding back all the pain of before to show his child a smile of welcome and nothing less,

"Welcome Home," he said softly, looking towards them both while he tried to settle the unsteady pace of his heart.

Fluffier pieces following this:

Playing Princess

Meeting Giorno

[whatifitwasgttho]

honestly they are my entire g/t portfolio

thierri (giant) belongs too @insanit3a

[wtfgaylittlezooid]

I’ve lost to temptation so here it is

My interpretation of magolor lets fucking go

So first section: How this bitch works

So Magolor is from Halcandria, a planet who’s core is essentially magic. There’s so much magic on this single planet that it leaked into the life and even some objects that could contain it. Magolor is no exception. Magic energy is essentially stored in a second heart (tho it’s more of a container than a heart), and runs through the body very similar to blood. It’s created and flows through his body, and allows for things like his eye glow, floating, and obviously powers. When he’s asleep, it regenerates. If there’s already enough magic energy while he’s asleep, it disposes of the old magic mostly by floating in sleep or by more severe means like insomnia aka magical overdose (which I’ve gone over before).

Next, is the glowing eyes!! Why he have that, I’ll tell ya. It makes it easier to detect other halcandrians as well as make it easier to detect light such as fire. Which is very useful when you need to look through ashy clouds and make sure a giant rock isn’t about to slam into you from above. It’s also a way to show the health of a halcandrian. Though the eyes glow yellow, they have a brown color very similar to their fur. If they’re sick or very unhealthy, they lose their glow and it slowly reverts to the brown color.

As a side effect of the master crown though, Magolor’s magic energy got boosted by the crown so he didn’t just die instantly by overwhelming power. It sounds like a good thing on paper, having so much energy to the point where he can fight non stop without getting tired magically, but magic overdose due to him not being able to deplete enough of it fast enough is a bitch. He gets sick a lot easier, bad insomnia, as well as occasionally using magic without realizing. So this clears out how he works and shit!! Now onto...

Before RTDL

So before RTDL Magolor had little social skills or experience with interacting with other people that wasnt lying to them to get them to do stuff. It was just how Halcandria worked. People kept to themselves and if you needed help you’d have to twist the truth in order to convince them. Relationships of any kind are very rare in Halcandria as well.

So when he met Marx, it was weird. He originally planned to let him stay until he got better and told him about why he was found in a Nova’s wreckage, so he could hopefully get Marx to lead him to something else he could use to defeat Landia. It didn’t go as planned. Marx was an unpredictable dude who immeadiatly fell for Magolor (but mags didn’t notice cause he’s never experienced someone else crushing or a crush) and due to that Marx spent a lot of time with Magolor during recovery and grew on him. He also ended up showing Magolor what friendship was, and honestly: magolor liked it. He liked having someone around. It was a nice change, and it was nice to have someone around to help (and rarely give him affection). So, Magolor wanted Marx to rule the universe with him once he killed Landia. He didn’t want Marx to leave. Though things started going downhill when an accident happened one time while exploring and Magolor was distracted, leaving to Marx having to use Nova’s power to make sure Magolor was safe.

And Magolor was fascinated, and god he was excited. He pried Marx for questions about his wings, constantly stared at them when they were out, and started talking about if he and Marx used their combined powers they could finally kill Landia and get what they want. But Marx didn’t want to. His want for power by then left, and he knew the consequences. He was happy just hanging out with Mags, and didn’t want to risk his life fighting a dragon with a crown of infinite power. But Magolor, despite liking the change of company, was used to being a loner and believed he could do it again since he’s halcandrian. He said Marx could leave if he didn’t want to, and that was when Marx started to see just how desperate Magolor was for the Master Crown. It was all too similar to his own desperation with Nova, and all words were useless and failed to change Magolor’s mind. So Marx left, and Magolor continued. He felt a little bad (and lonely) but pushed it down and decided no turning back and opted to modifying the Starcutter more like a weapon and attacking Landia that way, but failing.

Though he had a backup plan, thanks to Marx. Which brings me to..

The Betrayal

So this is RTDL time, before the betrayal. His back up plan was going to the pink hero Marx ranted about and using them to get the crown. After all, if they could defeat someone with the gift of Nova’s power, they could defeat a wyvern with a crown. They landed, and Magolor met everyone, but he couldn’t stop thinking about a certain someone. Chilly, who volunteered to stay with him while the others collected the spheres and parts (tho it was because he was suspicious). Mags didn’t know this, and assumed he was being nice. So the second person who (he thought) was being friendly with him enough to stay with him, and fill that hole Marx accdientally left by leaving him. He couldn’t not get attatched. He became REALLY REALLY clingy, and did as much as he could to keep himself focused as well as make sure they were friends. It backfired, making Chilly agitated most of the time, but it also semi worked later on. Most of his time between the betrayal and his crash landing was spent monitoring everyone’s progress, and trying to get Chilly to like him so he could do what he had to do during the betrayal.

Now during the betrayal! The closer he got to achieving the crown again, the more desperate and ooc he got. By the time he was at Halcandria, there’d be no way to talk him out of it, since he was THIS close. But there was still one thing wrong that he assumed the crown would fix: he couldn’t go back to being alone. He assumed he would adjust, since that’s how it’s been for his whole life. But now, that he’s actually had two people really close to him (and one leave) that showed him affection and didn’t only use him like in Halcandria, he didn’t want to go back to being alone. He couldn’t. But he came too far to turn back, and continued anyway (not like he ever changed his mind, but he did have moments of doubt). He told Chilly to stay in the Starcutter, wanting to keep him safe, which obviously didn’t go well for him when Chilly responded with freezing the ship from the inside to stop Magolor from using it in its attacks.

And of course, when Magolor sees this, he has a moment of “oh shit I can’t let him do this. I can’t lose someone else.” And tries to convince Chilly to join him. He talks about the two of them ruling and even giving Chilly Popstar to rule. He means it. He wants someone with him, somebody that he genuinely loves and treats him like a friend. He assumed that if he didn’t force Chilly into working with him like Marx, he would join in the end. And like any person with common sense, Chilly denies, loyal to Kirby and Popstar. THIS was the moment Magolor became truly desperate, he tries to convince Chilly to join him but he can barely get any words other than “but you were only friend” out while crying (in the middle of battle lol). Kirby and everyone take this chance to attack, while Magolor is just kind of broken. He fucked up again.

And he’ll be alone.

He has one thing left now, and that’s the power to rule the universe.

And he’s desperate to have this one thing go right for him, and he uses the remaining power of the Master Crown... which brings me to the next topic!

The Master Crown

Full section for the master crown let’s go. It gets its dark power from a leader/creator of dark matter (think 0), and is sentient. It only knows to shroud the world in darkness, and will do whatever it takes to get it. It’s powers are held at bay by Landia, who is Halcandria’s guardian and can resist its powers due to being a magic guardian. Magolor however, isn’t a magic guardian, and can’t resist. To him, it’s a shiny piece of jewelry that’ll make him strong so things can finally go his way.

The way it works is by drawing people in, like a venus fly trap. It just amplify people’s interest in it, as well as bring out the more negative traits about them that makes them easier to control. The most common traits is desperation, impulsiveness, frustration, and determination. And once the crown is on their head, it locks on and is irremovable and works like a parasite, basically completely erasing whoever put it on and molding them to the perfect puppet. Magolor essentially just sped up the process completely by using the last of its power in a desperate attempt to get what he wanted.

After the Betrayal

Magolor, after the betrayal, is left just floating around Another Dimension. He’s exhausted, in a lot of pain, and completely magically drained. He couldn’t even float if he tried, and that uses the bare minimum of magic. He’s stuck here for a long time, and at first, he’s extremely frustrated and upset. He spends a lot of time replaying the events in his head (not magolor soul, he has no memories of that aside from snippets that come into his dreams that are partially due to the master crown’s lasting effect) and just getting more and more angry at everything. He was so close to having control over EVERYTHING, and he lost it over himself the second he used the rest of the power. He was infuriated that he manged to let that stupid puffball beat him, along with their friends.

He cries, screams, shouts, but it doesn’t matter. Rage can only last so long, and it’s not much before he’s just exhausted and tired. He’s given up on escaping, knowing he can’t. He cant form a dimensional portal strong enough to pull him out of a dimension. He only has the skill to use it for teleportation. After a few days, he’s accepted what happened, that this is his fate. He hates being alone, floating in space with no silly jester to crack a joke or scratch his head, and no snowman who’s bell jingled with an adorable tune whenever he laughed and even gave him hugs. He ends up getting habits of scratching his head (despite the pain because of master crown injuries) and hugging himself as a way to fill that hole the two left when leaving. He misses them, and starts to regret going after the crown in the first place. He comes up with scenarios in his head to pass the time as he basically waits for himself to rot. He imagines apologizing and having his friends back. He imagines Marx somehow finding him similar to how Magolor found him. He imagines not being alone, and being happy. Not plagued by agonizing exhaustion and self fury. He even comes to miss Kirby and their friend one he actually realizes the kindness they showed him, since he was too focused before to realize.

He spends a few days in the hell dimension before he finds something. He ends up finding an energy sphere that floats past that was lost during the battle. He grabs and clings to it, now having only one thing from before. It doesn’t make the loneliness any better, but it does make things a little less bareable. But of course, energy spheres are a sphere doomer’s favorite snack, and it doesn’t take long before one comes along really wanting it.

Magolor at first, pushes it away desperate to keep this one thing he had before, and the sphere doomer keeps coming back desperately wanting its food. Eventually, Magolor and the sphere doomer form a slight bond since this was when Magolor started slowly regaining magic again and tries attacking it with his revolution orbs, but it’s just a treat for the sphere doomer. The sphere doomer keeps coming back for more treats and another attempt at a snack, and Magolor feels a little less lonely. Over time, he actually gains enough of its trust to pet it and even talks to it. He names her Lor II.

Lor II is the reason he gets out of Another Dimension and back to Halcandria, via opening a rift. Lor II basically gives Magolor a second chance to make things right, and he immeadiatly takes it. Of course, he has to steal the Starcutter to do it, but he makes his way to Popstar to apologize, because he REALLY regrets his major fuck up and at the very least, he can make things better (and maybe get a chance at being less lonely).

So that’s all I got lmao hope you enjoyed

[httpsaiki]

Don’t You Forget About Me (TsukiYama)

This is just pure angst, it caused me great pain to write. TsukiYama is platonic, but I wasn’t sure how else to title/tag this.

TW for angst and death

WC: 3977

Yamaguchi is missing. —————————————————–

It can all come to an end in an instant. Who would’ve imagined it would take missing person posters and search parties for Tsukishima to come to that conclusion?

College students don’t just disappear for no reason. Especially not tall, strong college boys who could easily defend themselves. Especially not Yamaguchi Tadashi.

Yamaguchi Tadashi, the light of so many people's lives, where have you gone? He was someone Tsukishima never thought would disappear - having been in his life for so many years. He couldn’t imagine life without the smaller, green-haired boy. It had never crossed his mind that he'd have to spend even a day without hearing Yamaguchi go on, telling him about his day, or being called “Tsukki”, much to his own annoyance. The irritated expression that the nickname caused never seemed to prevent it, anyway.

He missed the sound of him calling that nickname, running up to him with slight enthusiasm to share whatever news he had. It had been weeks since he last heard it. He had always tuned Yamaguchi’s rambling out, if even he listened, it was never truly his full attention. Tsukishima wished now he’d listened better. Maybe if he had, Yamaguchi would be here right now. They’d be at one of their homes and Yamaguchi would be beside him, telling him all about some silly thing his classmate did or what happened in today’s lecture. If only he was, Tsukishima thought bitterly to himself. Oh, what he’d give to hear about Yamaguchi’s day right now, some sense of normalcy back to his life. He knew he’d listen with all his attention, focused on every syllable that Yamaguchi tells him.

The guilt and regrets ate him alive. It was his fault, he knew it. If only he hadn’t-

“Tsukishima!” The voice snapped him out of his thoughts. “You’re doing it again, snap out of it.”

Tsukishima’s head turned slowly to the source of the voice, not having the mental energy to match a name to it right now. The orange hair was familiar, it didn’t take any more than that for a name to pop in his mind. Hinata Shouyou. Oddly enough, someone that he’d kept contact with after high school. He didn’t understand why they kept in as close contact as they did. Maybe it was being on a volleyball team together for three years, or something about his aggravatingly bright and cheery personality, but they kept in touch. Of course, Hinata knew about Yamaguchi’s disappearance and likely about Tsukishima’s suffering as well.

He took this chance to take in his surroundings once again, delaying his reply to Hinata’s words. The police station, such an ordinary sight to him now. The old desks and creaky chairs. It wasn’t kept as up-to-date as he imagined it would be. He’s visited countless times over the past two weeks, talking to officers and being interviewed by more detectives than he cared to remember. He always found himself apathetic as can be during those times, it was easier to just be unfeeling and not entirely present. He was still more than willing to respond to questions and help out with the investigation in any way he could. Mainly because he did not want to be counted as a potential suspect. Tsukishima internally grimaced at the thought, as if he’d ever intentionally do anything to hurt Yamaguchi. Now, he was seated near the entrance, just having come out of yet another exhausting discussion, asking the detectives the same questions he had every day since his disappearance. He knew most of these cases closed within the first twenty-four hours, so why hadn’t they found anything yet?

“Doing what?” He asked, he knew what Hinata meant by the question, but it was far easier to play dumb. His voice was completely monotone and yet it sounded harsh and venomous. Hinata visibly reeled back, only a flinch but enough for Tsukishima to take notice. “Sorry.” He apologized, it was still cold, but not nearly as vicious as before.

“Spiraling,” Hinata stated simply. “Don’t put all the blame on yourself, Tsukishima, it won’t help.” Hinata had a point and Tsukishima knew it. That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to ignore that fact, though. His hands came up to his temples, long fingers rubbing them slightly in an attempt to relieve the tension. “I just want him home and safe,” Tsukishima’s voice was low, quiet, and soft. A complete contrast to the way he was speaking before.

"I know, we all do. We’re all worried." Hinata spoke, glancing nervously towards Tsukishima. He never got a reply, receiving only an icy glare instead. There was only one thing on Tsukishima’s mind, nobody truly understood how he felt during all of this. Everyone around him was sympathetic, trying to be understanding and attempting to help. However, no other person was feeling the pain like he is, and nobody else felt the shame corrupt them like he currently was. He knew not another soul wanted Yamaguchi back as badly as he did.

He forced his thoughts to halt. This isn’t about him, it’s about Yamaguchi. Who cares how he feels while his best friend is out there, still missing? With that, Tsukishima stood and left without another glance in Hinata’s direction. That didn’t stop his friend from noticing his sullen, pained expression that seemed permanently etched into his features. Hinata followed out the door shortly after, but by the time he got outside Tsukishima was nowhere to be seen.

The sound of his keys trying to force their way into his door snapped Tsukishima out of his thoughts yet again. Realizing he was putting the wrong key into his door, he switched to the right one, swiftly unlocking the door and entering the apartment. To say it was untidy was an understatement. It was overwhelmingly messy, he hadn’t bothered to take much care of it ever since Yamaguchi went missing. He sighed, picking up some clothes and throwing them into a laundry basket.

One sweatshirt caught his eye, it certainly wasn’t his. It had the name of a college printed neatly on the back, but it wasn’t that which grabbed his attention. No, the last name stitched into the arm, Yamaguchi. Of course. Of course, it had to be his, he must’ve left it here the night- No. Tsukishima still refused to think about Yamaguchi's last moments with him. He stared at the hoodie for just a little longer before giving in and slipping it over the t-shirt he was currently wearing. He felt bad for wearing it without permission, but it was the only way he felt he could have his friend back, even if it was only a little.

He looked around the apartment once again, seeing it was somewhat cleaner than before. It was now, he realized, just how empty it felt. Most nights, especially ones like these, Yamaguchi would be over. He basically lived at Tsukishima’s place, sleeping there more nights than at his own apartment. Tsukishima could see Yamaguchi on his couch, hunched over notes and cramming for some upcoming quiz. Or maybe he’d be seen in the kitchen, laughing at something stupid while he makes hot chocolate, the TV on in the background. He had such a nice laugh. Despite everything that had happened the last two weeks, Tsukishima still half expected him to wander out of the guest bedroom, waking up from a nap and stretching as he mumbles a small, “Good evening, Tsukki,” before making himself comfortable on the couch and opening Netflix. Yamaguchi had always been a welcome guest, Tsukishima could only wish he’d told him that all the times he got the chance.

Tsukishima walked into the kitchen, freezing for a moment, realizing Yamaguchi really wasn’t there. He peeked into the guest bedroom as well, seeing only an unmade bed and a black backpack sitting, leaned on the corner. He couldn’t bear to look at it anymore before turning around and walking straight to his bedroom. The thought of eating right now repulsed him. Sleeping wasn’t much more appealing, but at least he wouldn’t have to force himself to stomach something. It was too early to sleep, only being 9 p.m, but the exhaustion that overtook his body overtook any will power he had to stay awake any longer. So he slept.

Tsukishima stirred from his sleep, sitting up in his bed before looking over at the clock that sat beside him. 9 a.m, huh? He slept a long time. His body felt rejuvenated and oddly energized as he slipped out of his bed. The world looked just a little brighter today. Maybe it was the sun shining, just barely visible from behind his blinds or maybe it was the sweet smell of pancakes that overtook his senses. Wait, pancakes? Who was making-

“Tsukki! Get up, silly, I made breakfast!” Yamaguchi’s head peered its way into Tsukishima’s bedroom, peaking past the door frame. His hair was messier than usual, signaling that he woke up not that long ago as well. Tsukishima’s heart jumped upon seeing his face. There was no mistaking it, that’s really him. “Oh, you’re awake. Come eat!”

“Yamaguchi? It’s really you?” Tsukishima called out, disbelief evident in his voice.

“Who else?” He asked sarcastically, a small giggle coming out after he spoke, “C’mon, I’ll cut up some strawberries to go on the side. Oh! Do you have whipped cream? I couldn’t find any.”

Tsukishima opened his mouth to answer, but before he could he felt himself shooting up in his bed again. He blinked, his room was suddenly pitch black, the only light was a faint glow coming from the clock that was next to him. It read 5 a.m, how he wished it would say 9 instead. How badly he wanted to go back to that dream. Tsukishima sighed, tears welling up in his eyes as a sob escaped his mouth before he could stop it. A hand came up, covering his mouth in an attempt to prevent any more sound from coming out. It was in vain, however, as loud, violent sobs took over his body. He shook as he cried, removing the hand from his mouth to cover his eyes. The tears wouldn’t stop coming, even when his sobs were reduced to mere whimpers. This was the first time he allowed himself to feel Yamaguchi’s disappearance. That dream was vile and yet it was everything he wanted right now.

Tsukishima clambered lazily and clumsily out of bed. Falling onto the floor with a small thud. He pulled his blanket off his bed, wrapping it tightly around himself after he reached to grab his phone. He promised himself he wouldn’t do this, and yet here he was, giving in to his desires. He knew it would only hurt more, but he needed to hear Yamaguchi’s voice.

After staring at the screen for a moment, making sure he was as mentally prepared as he could be, he opened the phone app. There was no point in calling him, that was something Tsukishima had learned quickly. Yamaguchi’s phone was currently in the black backpack that sat in the guest bedroom. Tsukishima tapped on the button for voicemails, quickly calling the service to replay some of the old ones that Yamaguchi had left him. He didn’t take his eyes off the screen as he listened to the voice that fell from his speakers.

“Hey, Tsukki, I hope your practice is going well! The fact you didn’t pick up means it probably is. Anyways, uh, I’m gonna be a little late coming over tonight. We were assigned a group project and I need to drop by my partner’s house to work things out. I don’t know if we’re getting started or not, but I still wanna work out who’s gonna do what. I’m still coming by your place, though! Don’t you forget about me!” Yamaguchi laughed, “Okay, bye-bye! I’ll see you later tonight!”

The voicemail ended there. If only those last few words were true.

“Don’t you forget about me!” Yamaguchi was joking when he said that, Tsukishima was sure of it, but those words still repeated in his head, even minutes after he heard them. How could he ever forget about someone like him?

He clearly remembered the night that he had received that voicemail. Yamaguchi was, indeed, late that night. It wasn’t any trouble, all they did was binge a TV series and chat about their days. It was nothing out of the ordinary, it happened most nights for them, whenever school wasn’t too busy. It was peaceful and good at relieving stress for both of them. Just casually watching whatever stupid show is on with the person most important to you. He missed putting on purposely bad television with him, just to make fun of it until the early hours of the morning.

Tsukishima considered listening to another voicemail but thought better than to do so. He should save them for another night like this, where he needs nothing more than to hear Yamaguchi’s cheerful voice. He knew he’d need them again.

He thought back to the last time Yamaguchi didn’t sound cheerful. It was the last night they saw each other. Yamaguchi was visiting, as per usual. School had been particularly rough on both of them, each having their personal struggles, academic struggles, and a need to let out their frustrations. Yamaguchi was tired, that much was evident on his face. Tsukishima wasn’t having the greatest time and took some of that out on Yamaguchi. The argument that broke out between them was loud and brutal. It escalated to the point Tsukishima just wanted it to end, insulting Yamaguchi in an attempt to shut him up.

The heartbroken expression on his face was enough to send Tsukishima into another wave of tears. It was like it was ingrained into his eyelids, he saw it every time he blinked. The last thing he remembers was Yamaguchi, tears falling rapidly down his face, sprinting past him out the door. He didn’t even turn to grab his things.

Tsukishima was too proud to run after him, Yamaguchi never returned.

He curled in on himself, the guilt becoming overbearing once again. It was too much, he felt physically unable to handle his emotions. He cried for the second time that night. He was unwilling to go back to sleep, afraid of the cruel yet welcoming dream would come back to him. Eventually, his crying tired him out so much he couldn’t resist the call of sleep. He slept sitting on the floor, still in Yamaguchi’s sweatshirt. Luckily, he didn’t dream of anything. Just a heavy, unfulfilling sleep.

The next morning he was woken by a phone call from Hinata. Still irritated at himself for last night and everything that had happened, he answered the phone with a curt hello.

“Tsukishima? You alright? Did I wake you?” Hinata’s concerned voice asked him.

“Of course I’m not fine, Hinata, they haven’t found him.” Tsukishima had to stop and take a breath, he couldn’t be crying over the phone with Hinata listening. “And yes, you did wake me. What is it?”

“I was just going to invite you for lunch - I think it might do you some good. Kageyama agreed to come, he’s worried too.”

Tsukishima wasn’t sure how to feel. On one hand, he had two of his friends trying to help him through this. They were doing their best and they must be having a hard time too. On the other hand, the thought of leaving this spot on his floor, having to walk past the places he could only wish Yamaguchi would be pained him.

“I-I’ll come.” His voice was as unsure as his thoughts, but he knew it would be a good chance to try and take his mind off things.

“Don’t you forget about me!” The simple statement rang through his head once again. It was so meaningless at the time. He never knew such a small, insignificant joke would haunt him in this way. He wasn’t going to forget, no. He was just meeting with friends, not moving on.

Tsukishima’s internal reassurances caused him to miss whatever Hinata had been saying.

“-so we’ll meet you there. Does that sound good?” Hinata rambled into the phone.

“Sorry, meet me where?” Tsukishima prayed his friend wouldn’t notice that he hadn’t been paying attention the entire time.

“The café we normally go to, the one down the street from your place?” Hinata’s voice was calm, it sounded more comforting than usual. Tsukishima found this strange, usually, he found his voice to be annoying. It seemed Hinata was trying to help more than Tsukishima realized. He was internally far more grateful than Hinata would ever know.

“Right. Thank you.” He didn’t even mean to thank him, it slipped out. He hung up the phone before he could get a reply. Reluctantly, Tsukishima stood from his blankets, realizing he’d need to shower and get ready before going out. As quickly as he could, he stumbled into the bathroom. Still half in a daze, he washed his hair and slipped into clean clothes. The apartment was way too quiet for a Saturday afternoon. There was no quiet TV in the next room, nor was there the sound of a soft, gentle voice mumbling as Yamaguchi was reading over his notes. He’d always found the murmuring annoying, he now didn’t understand how he ever did.

Standing in his bedroom doorway, Tsukishima took a deep breath. He was ready to leave, but the hard part came now. A knock at his door startled him. Hinata and Kageyama weren’t supposed to pick him up? It’s far too early, anyways. The knock came again, this time harder.

“Coming,” Tsukishima called out, his feet yet to move. He shut his eyes and made his way as quickly as he could towards the door. Without looking behind him, where he knew certain disappointment would await, he opened the door.

A familiar face was at his door, the lead detective on Yamaguchi’s case. The detective began speaking, asking if he could come inside and recommending Tsukishima take a seat.

The detective inhaled sharply, choosing his next words carefully, “We found Yamaguchi,” he started, but Tsukishima interrupted frantically before he could finish.

“Where! Where is he?” Tsukishima cried out.

“He’s dead.”

And at that very moment, Tsukishima’s entire world stopped. Dead? Yamaguchi Tadashi, dead? There’s no way. Not his best friend of so many years, not the man who’d gotten him through so much. There’s no way, it’s impossible. No. No. No.

“You’re wrong!” He yelled, his voice had never been so pained, so desperate, “It’s someone else! It has to be! Tell me it’s someone else!”

“The DNA match checks out, so does the appearance. I’m sorry.”

The detective left soon after, he had no more business there. Tsukishima didn’t move, hardly blinking nor breathing. He could hear his heartbeat racing in his ears. It was painful. Why did his heart get to beat? Why his heart and not Yamaguchi’s? He didn’t notice when Hinata and Kageyama walked in and sat in front of him. The tear stains on Hinata’s face would’ve given away that they knew as well, had Tsukishima looked at him. Kageyama tried to keep strong for the other two, but looking into his eyes would give away that he was hurting too.

“Tsukishima?” Hinata called out gently, kneeling in front of him while resting a hand on Tsukishima’s knee, trying to get a look at his face.

“He’s dead, Hinata. Gone.” Tsukishima’s mouth moved without him realizing it. It was as if life was on autopilot, he felt completely numb. Hinata said nothing, but opened his arms, inviting his friend in for a hug. Tsukishima leaned in, once again without even realizing his actions. Hinata held him as he cried.

The funeral hurt him even more. Having to see his body there, dressed up to look nice, it was a sickening sight. He sat, watching friends and family members tearfully say their goodbyes. He was among one of the last to say goodbye, wanting to delay the reality of the situation as long as he could. The fact he was not coming back hadn’t truly dawned on him yet. It was a realization he knew he’d make soon and he feared the day it would come. Akiteru came along, and he wasn’t sure if his brother's presence was to support him or to attend the funeral itself. Chances are it was a mix of both.

Tsukishima was of course asked to speak, and there was no way he could refuse. He stood up, looking at the group of people before him. Some were crying their eyes out, others were just glassy-eyed - trying to remain as strong as they could. Yamaguchi really had an effect on people. Tsukishima blanked for the entirety of his speech, letting his thoughts spew out of his mouth without thinking. He had no idea if anything he said was making sense nor did he have any idea what he was actually saying. All he knew was the only thing fueling him at this point was raw emotion.

It was scary. Not something he was used to.

Once the ceremony ended, Tsukishima was back on autopilot. He knew he needed to move on in life. What he didn’t know, however, was how he would manage to do so. Yamaguchi was always there through the big changes. He’d always been Tsukishima's rock, the one consistent thing no matter what.

Everything felt bleak and empty. On particularly bad nights, he’d still half-expect to see Yamaguchi in his living room when he came home. He considered moving out, but he knew he’d regret it. It was the last place he had memories with his best friend, the last place he was seen alive.

Alive. Tsukishima had grown to hate that word. He felt the same way he did the day he found out about his best friend's death. It was unfair, he felt he should’ve been the one to run out. Maybe if he had he’d be dead instead of Yamaguchi, or maybe they’d both be fine and happy. Either option sounded better than the life he was currently living. He had his other friends, sure, but none of them could come close to comparing to his best friend.

The apartment haunted him, but there was no way he could leave. The bed in the guest bedroom still hadn’t been made, despite it being well over a month since anyone had slept in there. The black backpack remained untouched, leaning on the end of the bed. That was Yamaguchi’s room and Tsukishima refused to meddle with it. A part of him hoped every day that he’d come back. He just wanted to pull him in for a hug and apologize. Even if he wasn’t forgiven - and he believed he shouldn’t be - he just wanted a chance to tell Yamaguchi everything he’d meant to him.

Sometimes he got the chance to, in his dreams. Those always turned to nightmares. Yamaguchi never forgave him, it always resulted in him running away, turning us back from Tsukishima and claiming how he’ll never forgive him. Tsukishima knew that was unlike Yamaguchi, but having to witness it, night after night, was more than Tsukishima could handle. One phrase never failed to come back-

“Don’t you forget about me!” Yamaguchi’s voice rang through his head once again, it was becoming a normal occurrence at this point. It was haunting, yet Tsukishima welcomed it. Even though it terrified him, even though he hated being reminded of the death he felt he caused, it was such a comforting voice. The words reminded him that he hadn’t forgotten. He made one last promise to himself, one that he intended to keep.

“I won’t,” Tsukishima whispered.

[frostedfaves]

To Build A Home (3)

Masterlist

Pairing: Rosa Diaz x fem!reader

Summary: Rosa spent years building a friendship, relationship, and eventually a marriage and home with you. This tale follows your journey together up until her sudden murder. Now that you’ve tracked down her killer before anyone else, will you do the right thing and send him to prison or take care of him yourself?

Warnings: mentions of gun violence and injuries, hospitals, tiny drop of angst

A/N: comments, reblogs, and likes are much appreciated. so excited to hear everyone’s thoughts!! also sorry this one is a bit shorter but the next one is longer to make up for it :)

Previous chapter here

-

Today seemed like any other normal day in the precinct. Jake was currently in Holt’s office, attempting to appear as a detective who was serious enough to be on a task force while making hundreds of jokes that countered his argument. Charles rambled on about some Boyle family event while Gina easily gave her attention to a video online instead. Hitchcock and Scully were asleep at their desks again, and Rosa was finishing a report while waiting for you and Amy to return from the field. Business as usual, until a ringtone pierced the air of her silent workspace.

“Diaz,” Rosa answered, tucking the phone between her ear and shoulder as she continued to type.

“I’m at First Presbyterian. Y/N’s been hit.”

Amy’s voice continues to call out to Rosa, going unheard as she drops the phone, trying to process. Her girlfriend, the one who’d just promised her a lunch date through text an hour ago was now in the hospital.

Her phone was retrieved again along with her helmet and keys, and she rushed through the bullpen to escape to the outside world, mercilessly shoving aside anyone who dared to cross her path. Eyes focused and fists clenched around handlebars as her bike twisted and turned, speeding between cars with rehearsed accuracy. She refused to let a wreck keep her from getting to you as soon as possible.

-

“Where is she?” 

The words were directed at Amy before she was even aware of Rosa’s presence, but she wasted no time pointing her in the direction of your room, following a safe distance behind.

The door opened quietly, and crossing the threshold seemed to be the only force strong enough to finally slow Rosa down. Her eyes raked over your sleeping form as she approached your side, gently pulling your IV-free hand into hers and sitting in a chair beside you.

“What happened?” she croaked, gaze locked in on the cast covering your leg.

“We were looking for one perp and found two. The second one shot at her to give their friend a chance to escape, but luckily their aim was terrible,” Amy responded from the opposite side of you.

“I assume both are taken care of, then.”

“Yep. We had the evidence, just needed to find them. They’re headed to BDC as we speak.”

“Good...for them. It’s safer for them there instead of out here where I can get to them and make it look like an accident.”

“I don’t doubt that for a second,” Amy assured her, taking a deep breath. “I have a feeling you’re not leaving until she does, so I’ll just let Holt know where you are. Do you need me to bring anything after work?” 

Rosa shook her head. “I’m good.” She turned her head slightly, noticing your phone, badge and shirt on a table. “Well, maybe some pants for her to wear out of here. I’m guessing hers got ruined?”

“Yeah, they did. Okay well, just call me when they release her, and I’ll give her a ride home.” She nodded toward the helmet beside Rosa’s chair, causing her to chuckle.

“It was the quickest way to get here!” she defended quickly. “But I will. Thanks, Ames.”

“Of course. Don’t forget to eat something!” she called as she left the room.

Rosa turned her attention back to the gentle rise and fall of your chest, not hesitating to raise your hand to her lips now that you were alone. She allowed herself to get lost in her thoughts while she waited for you to finish sleeping off the pain meds given to you post surgery. Thousands of things seemed to pass through her mind but she only held onto one.

A leg shot was lucky, but it could’ve been so much worse. And she’d do anything possible to make sure you never felt any pain worse than this.

-

“What the hell are you doing?!”

The words caused you to freeze, one hand on the cabinet door and the other gripped firmly onto the edge of the counter. After another few seconds of silence, you carefully twisted your body around and met Rosa’s disappointed glare with a sheepish grin.

“The doctor told me to exercise once in a while.”

“He meant stand up and stretch, not travel across the entire apartment for a snack,” she scolded as she sat the bags she arrived with in the kitchen doorway. “How did you even get over here anyway?”

“It literally took me the entire time you were gone. I just wanted some Cheez-Its.” Your pout shifted into a smile as she approached you, pulling the box down and placing it onto the counter. “Thank you, baby, and I’m sorry. I hadn’t been bad in a while and wanted to misbehave a bit.” Your free hand stroked her arm, and she responded to your smirk with a simple roll of her eyes.

“Nice try, but you’re not going to seduce your way out of this one.” She stepped over to the hall closet and reentered the room with a wheelchair, ignoring your whines and complaints as she helped you into it. “If you do this again, I’m strapping you down.”

“That’s my kink!” you called after her as she left to put her things away, turning back to your snack on the counter with a silly grin. “Worth it.”

You rolled your way into the living room to turn on the television, cradling your Cheez-Its like a newborn. Meanwhile Rosa put the ceiling tiles back in place in the bathroom, hiding one of the things she purchased in the time she was out. Part of her was grateful you had limited use of your legs at the moment. It lessened your chance of finding the ring before her proposal plan was complete.

-

Tags: @gaulty74 @creepingwolfberry @rosadiazswifey @xetherealbeautyx @jay-is-groovy @milkfromhell @marie-03

[rubyjcat]

[Behind-the-Scenes] HELIOS Rising Heroes: Animation Showcase

“HELIOS Rising Heroes: Animation Showcase” is an English voice fan project I worked on all by myself (barring voice actors) that took five months to make.

The original plan was to make just one video, but it ended up being eighteen of them!

Link to YouTube playlist:

https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL0UbdFyWSx0n_ewcd-t0iAB0adGe5lghH

In this write-up, I’ll be discussing details about the response to the project, recording all the footage, video editing, voice acting + audio processing, script translations + rewriting, which fonts were used, and even the emulator used. I’ve organized it into sections to make it easier to find certain things. Also, this is directed to English-speaking readers since I’m not gonna bother translating the entire thing to Japanese.

THE DREAM

I wanted to make this fandub ever since the game was released (in Aug 2020). I just knew that English voices would be extremely fitting to the world of HELIOS with a setting inspired by America and characters, places, and terms mostly in English. I was disappointed to hear that the studio behind the game, Cacalia Studio of Happy Elements K.K., had no interest to localize their games outside of Asia, which meant the chances of an English dub, let alone a global release were close to zero.

I was able to understand how to play the game thanks to the fan translators, some of which came from other Cacalia Studio games, and got inspired to continue learning Japanese (there was a previous attempt to translate Japanese lyrics years back).

What I thought was just the silly dream of one overseas player’s became something much more!

THE TIMELINE (BRIEF OVERVIEW)

I played the game for about two months prior to working on the project. Before starting the project, I had to sort out graphical and technical issues on my end first as I was unable to play the game smoothly until November.

November 2020

Finding all the in-game battle lines

Writing transliterations (romaji) of lines by ear

Learning and translating lines to Japanese

Started recording footage

December 2020

Further translation revisions

Held a casting call

Script rewriting and finalizing

January 2021

Completed casting

Started video editing (learning process)

Started audio processing

Recorded more footage

February 2021

Recorded more footage

Japanese script revisions

Finished working with VAs

Finished audio processing

Continued video editing

Published Preview video

March 2021

Recorded the last of the footage

Japanese subtitle revisions

Finished Showcase video

Finished Individual battle clips

Gave recommendations to VAs

The exact start and end dates were Nov 1st, 2020 to March 31st, 2021. Pretty neat.

RESPONSE TO THE PROJECT

I was absolutely shocked with the response to the preview video, which at the time of writing has just hit 10K views and almost 600 likes on Twitter and YouTube combined. Not bad for an unpaid hobby fandub (a joke only I find funny...) of an otherwise “niche” Japanese-only mobile game.

As of Apr 4th, 2021 - Thank you so much. This is more than I could’ve asked for.

The preview video blew up way more than anticipated, setting up for a bit of disappointment when the Showcase video was released.

The amount of views I expected for this project within its prime were a couple hundred views, so I’m content that the Showcase video reached that amount (it had ~500 by the end of March).

The expectations for the battle clips were an average of 100 views and a handful of likes - and each one got roughly that amount (or more) - so I’m also content with that, especially for something that’s just “bonus material”.

I tried my best to promote this project on Twitter with three main tweets. My one regret with promoting the project was making the second tweet after publishing the Showcase because the Japanese I wrote there was pretty terrible (as I was all worn out from editing and was in a haste to tweet about it). I tried to make up for it in a follow-up reply the next day, but it was too late. I was satisfied with how my third and final tweet and thread of battle clips turned out, but it sadly didn’t garner much attention. A reason for this was probably due to bad timing. I knew that the timing of the last tweet was awful as HeliosR did something special for April Fools’ day, plus the Easter event was being hyped around the same time, but I really wanted to finish up the project within March (my timezone, at least. It was already April 1st in Japan).

It was important to also make the videos accessible to the Japanese audience as they were a large portion of the viewers. This proved to be a challenge as my knowledge of Japanese is limited - at least for me, it’s easier to translate grammar-correct Japanese than it is to write my own sentences.

I ultimately decided against posting any of the videos on NicoNico because I wasn’t sure about Japan’s laws regarding copyrighted material. I knew it was already risky enough posting on social media and didn’t want to take any additional risks.

ABOUT THE FOOTAGE (1) – HEROES & ATTACK ORDER

HeliosR uses a gacha system, so to be able to even make something like this, you’d first need access to all 16 ★4 OG Heroes in the game.

I had them spread across five different accounts, four of which were reroll accounts. Asakou from the Cacalia RPG server gave me two of those accounts, and I rerolled myself for Keith and Ren during their Birthday Orders (one free 10-pull per account). Every account is also given a free ★4 selector ticket which I made good use of.

3,000 rubies (in-game currency) were sacrificed to pity the ★4 OG Dino when he was released in December just for the sake of the fandub!

Besides covering all of the Heroes, I also needed to play through each account to unlock certain story chapters, event stages, and evolve the Heroes for their shiny evolved CG art. Some of the Expert event stages (that had the Nighttime backgrounds) proved difficult to clear with a new account.

When using skills, the order of the Heroes were edited such that everyone was able to have the majority of their lines used at least once. All Heroes had two “receiving support” lines, two or three “supporting” lines, and two or three “skills against the enemy” lines. Some of the extra lines didn’t make it into the Showcase, so they were used for the individual clips instead.

I should’ve used Gray instead of Marion for the account that had Billy because you can see Marion’s sprite in Billy’s image. xD

In the Showcase, you may notice that the "Union Attacks" consist of all the ★4 CG images. These were spliced together; I never had all four Heroes of the same sector on the same account. For example, I would have Gray, Asch, and Jay on one account and Billy on another account, recorded their ★4 Bursts separately using the same background (from unlocking the Expert stages on both accounts), and then edited all the footage together.

Jay’s Burst was later re-recorded with a different attacking order so that he wouldn’t link to Billy.

It was also important to keep the same order of Bursts as well as use all four Bursts in the same turn. The ★4 Burst order was usually determined by who didn’t link skill with one another (with the exception of East sector as I was still figuring things out) because I didn’t want the link skill activation getting in the way of the animations.

As a little bonus, I also showed off the exclusive damaging skills of the Chapter 6 and 7 ★4 frames that I was lucky enough to pull from the gacha: Marion’s "Invitation To The Dance“ (roses), Faith’s “Synthetic Vibes” (beats), and Dino’s “Crow Mark Dead End” (claw marks).

ABOUT THE FOOTAGE (2) - BACKGROUNDS

Since I didn’t want to use the same battle music and backgrounds for all of the videos, I decided to use some of the themes from the limited-time events which went as far back as Nov 2020.

Each background has three variants (Daytime, Afternoon, Nighttime) and so I carefully picked them based on the colours. I ended up using mostly Expert stages - or Nighttime backgrounds, since Daytime versions were only used for Normal difficulty stages (which are too easy to clear).

The backgrounds used for the Showcase, all from limited-time events.

I decided to mix up some of the Heroes from other sectors in the individual clips for fun, basing it off of their relationships with each other. Using South sector’s background for Gast’s clip was a purposeful choice because I already used the North sector’s background for the other three North sector Heroes. I made sure to include Akira and Will of the South sector in Gast’s clip so it didn’t feel too random!

The only default background I didn’t use was Chapter 2’s because I already made use of the Casino theme for OG West sector’s individual clips. (...Plus I didn’t really like that background :p)

Here’s a list of all the backgrounds I used:

Escape the Prison (Nov 2020) - used for Showcase [EAST]

Mission of CASINO (Nov 2020) - used for Junior, Faith, & Keith clips

HAPPY NEW YEAR SHOW! (Jan 2021) - used for Showcase [SOUTH]

Help! Cooking Hero! (Jan 2021) - used for Will and Oscar clips

A Sweet Spell Garnished With Chocolate (Feb 2021) - used for Showcase [WEST]

Grandiose Chinoiserie (Mar 2021) - used for Showcase [NORTH]

The Hero Is A Detective!? (Mar 2021) - used for Billy and Jay clips

Default backgrounds: Chapters 1, 3, 4 (shared with 7), 5 (shared with 6) - used for all other clips

The Christmas event was the only event that went unused during the Nov 2020 - Mar 2021 period.

I didn’t record the East sector event (Christmas) in Dec 2020 because I was actually too busy with the casting call! I also didn’t think I would make use of it after already recording the Prison event intended for East sector. The project ended up taking so long that it actually benefited from having a wider selection of events over the months, which also showcased the beauty of the game.

ABOUT THE WORK & VIDEO EDITING

Hardware:

A decent computer.

A pair of no-name earbuds I found while cleaning out some junk.

Software:

All FREE!

*There’s a catch

NoxPlayer* emulator (debloated, read more about in its own section) and Open Broadcast Studio were used to record game footage and sounds.

Davinci Resolve was the main tool I used to edit the videos. A very demanding program that I only recommend using if you have a mid to high end computer.

MediBang was used to edit some of the art like the logos, but I ended up using Resolve for the majority of the graphics, including the thumbnails.

Audacity and Cakewalk were used to edit audio.

Many aspects for this project took longer than I had hoped because there was a learning process with using Resolve for the first time. I’m also a bit of a perfectionist, re-exporting videos tons of times just to fix small mistakes. Lastly, the time it took to make all the fancy effects was longer than I’d estimated. As the project dragged on, there was pressure to not delay the release of the videos any longer than I had to. A lot of this was self-imposed though.

There were days where I just did something else other than work on the project, which helped re-fuel my motivation when I decided to pick it up again.

Pretty much everything in the videos were taken from the game itself. The only graphics that were taken from the official website instead were the Substance symbols (the pictures with HERO at the bottom).

Additional overlay graphics were custom-made. It took two whole days to make the 3-second long sector intros and another two days to create and animate the arrow graphics for the credits. These were made using Resolve’s fusion and colour features. Much of the edit was inspired by the official HeliosR designs.

Left: Official in-game graphics // Right: My fanmade video (sector intros)

Sector intros were inspired by the four Heroes version of Union Attacks in-game.

Left: Official HeliosR video // Right: My fanmade video

The Preview video took after the ★4 Burst mini-previews as part of HeliosR’s promotional campaign, uploaded before the game was released.

Left: Official HeliosR video // Right: My fanmade video

The credits at the end of the Showcase were inspired by a different video, this time being the Half-Anniversary video.

The Showcase - which had a duration of 29:07 - was 11.5GB large in size. It took almost three hours to render (which I re-rendered to fix things) and two DAYS to upload to YouTube because I experienced multiple uploading interruptions. It’s a good thing you can re-upload the same video to continue where you left off without having to restart the entire process.

The individual hero clips didn’t take as long to make (but they took a while anyway as I re-uploaded some of them to fix minor mistakes). The recommendations for the VAs that were given alongside the publishing of each clip also spanned over another five days as I wanted to personalize and think about each one carefully.

A pretty frustrating part of the project was the prevalent lag when recording footage, which may have been due to the emulator and/or some technical things on my end. The Prison event used for the Showcase was the very first one I recorded when I wasn’t as aware about the lag, and so it suffered a bit as a result. The Union Attacks were the worst offender. I re-recorded the same battle scenes several times each just in case, then went through the footage frame-by-frame in Resolve and chose the ones with the least amount of lag. If all of the recorded footage suffered lag at different parts, I would even compare and splice together parts of them that didn’t lag. There was also audio lag (a known issue of NoxPlayer) so I had to move all of the audio forward by 1/3 of a second.

By the end of the project I had over 200 videos of game footage with a total size of over 24GB and a total duration exceeding 9 hours, not even counting all the ones that went unused.

The Heroes weren’t the only ones who evolved. MS Paint not recommended for thumbnails.

Overall, (despite the few mistakes here and there that nobody other than me would notice) I was happy with how everything turned out, down to the gorgeous thumbnails! I am an artist, after all~ :^)

I also have much more respect for video editors. They should be called VIDEO ANIMATORS!

ABOUT THE VOICES & AUDIO PROCESSING

When making a dub, it doesn’t mean we want to replace or best the original language, we just want to give it a new interpretation. In fact, the characters’ voice descriptions and direction provided in the scripts were heavily inspired by the seiyuu (Japanese VAs) and how they performed their lines.

Honestly, this was THE dream cast!! Some of the VAs had comparably similar voices to the Japanese ones which was an amazing coincidence. The ones that may not have sounded as similar had unique interpretations that I felt still suited their characters well. I also chose actors based on their performance, and everyone delivered!

Voice actors were not expected to imitate the Japanese voices and lines. They were provided direction and reference videos to help time their lines, but were otherwise given liberty when it came to their own interpretations.

You shouldn’t hear any jarring differences between the voice actors’ microphones and setups. That’s because I took the time to process the audio. Faith’s audio was submitted to me post-processed so it was used as a guideline for what the audio quality should sound like. Some of the others had comparable quality to Faith’s, so I only added compression to balance their volumes. Most of them benefited from equalization of various levels - this took some experimenting back and forth with the frequency spectrum. Lastly, a couple more benefited from clip fixing, noise gate, de-essing and/or click removal. It was very important for VAs to have at least decent room treatment; while small differences between mic frequencies can always be altered, echoes are difficult if not impossible to remove completely.

I feel that audio engineering is highly underrated and more important than ever as voice actors continue to record from home studios.

And in case it wasn’t already clear, this was purely voluntary work. No VAs or myself were paid to contribute anything for the project. Though, the experience alone was worth more than any amount of money.

ABOUT THE SCRIPT & TRANSLATIONS

HELIOS Rising Heroes「エリオスR」English Translation - Battle Lines

https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1ImWrAfvS_hgp6qr5qt30vCP63uHEk2o79uqY0h-3wL4/edit?usp=sharing

This spreadsheet consists of the literal translations for all the battle lines I could find in the game (it still isn’t done -yet-, plan to finish it when I get the chance). These are only fanmade and are not guaranteed to be accurate, especially as I wasn’t able to find another translator to help or proofread it.

After translating the lines, I made many additional revisions from the literal meanings such as changing the intention of the line slightly to flow better, having extra words added in to provide more context, or changing them completely. Thus, the lines used in the video are NOT literal TLs!

Another thing of note that may not seem apparent, but is what I feel an important aspect of character writing, is to remain completely unbiased towards all the characters. Personal favourites aside, I ensured that every Hero had their own spotlight as well as lines written in a way that remained faithful to their personality, no matter how unlikeable they were (looking at you, Asch Albright).

Even after giving voice actors their scripts, I made another revision in February after the release of the aforementioned Half-Anniversary video with the transcriptions for the ★4 Bursts, which is when I discovered a couple of mistakes with my transcriptions. This resulted in me having to edit out a part of one of the voice actors’ lines (Billy’s “String Show” line in his ★4 Burst) because of a translation mistake! I’m really glad I was able to double-check the correct lines before releasing the Preview video, or it would’ve looked pretty silly to Japanese viewers.

The last set of revisions were just minor edits to the subtitles (such as using kanji instead of kana) while I was working on subtitling all the videos.

Notable changes included:

WILL SPROUT

During attacking combo

Original line:

tanonda zo... ike! / “Counting on you... Reach!”

Rewritten line:

“I’ll become stronger... For everyone!”

The rewritten line is a condensed version of one of Will’s ★4 Evolved CG lines (“For everyone... I’ll become more and more stronger!”). He had “Reach!” in both his attacking combo and regular Burst, so I gave him an extra unique line.

★4 Burst

Original line:

warui kedo... kore de oshimai da! / “Sorry, but... it ends with this!”

Rewritten line:

“I’m sorry, but... it’s over for you! HAAAH!”

There were a couple of oversights I made with the script, and this was one of them that didn’t fit the animation properly. Props to Ryan for coming up with the extra shout at the end! So yeah, we kinda winged this line.

OSCAR BALE

When using skills against the enemy, during attacking combo, and in the ★4 Burst (repeat line)

Original line:

osoi! / “Slow!”

Rewritten lines:

“Too slow!” / “You’re slow!” / “Over here!”

Rewritten simply because I wanted to minimize repeated lines and change things up.

GAST ADLER

When supporting an ally, and during attacking combo

Original lines:

tetsudau ze / “I’ll help (you).”

itchouagari / “All done.”

Rewritten lines:

“I’ve got your six.”

“Target eliminated.”

I wanted to add in a few military terms to reflect Gast’s background.

FAITH BEAMS

★4 CG line (for the credits)

Original line (literal TL):

“It’s not terrible or evil, right? Surely this isn’t punishing... I guess?”

Rewritten line (with “mistake”):

“I’m not doing anything horrible or evil, alright? This is just business as usual... I suppose?”

Faith’s CG line had a mistake when I first translated and handed it off to his actor. I accidentally wrote “oshigoto” (work/business) instead of “oshioki” (punishment). The original has him pretty much saying the same thing twice anyway, so I would say the intention was still retained.

KEITH MAX

When supporting an ally

Original line:

gambare yo~ / “Do your best~.” or “Hang in there~.”

Rewritten line:

“Stay alive, would ya~?”

I know Keith’s meant to say “serious” things in a sarcastic or snarky way, but I just had to add in this fun line!

DINO ALBANI

Using skills against the enemy

Original lines:

haa! / “Haah!”

hei! / “Hey!”

Rewritten lines:

“I can do this!”

“Leave it to me!”

The Japanese lines for Dino’s offensive skills were rather basic, with the third and unchanged line “Here goes!” being a repeat line Dino also says when attacking. I wanted to give him some more lines - as standard as they are - to show his personality a bit more, along with having an additional fun West sector interaction. The changes fit the animations better too. (I actually had his VA say the "Haah!" line, but ended up using a different take of “Here goes!” in place of it.)

ABOUT THE FONTS

Fonts were taken from various sources and were either FREE for personal use or had an open font license. I didn’t have access to the commercial fonts (such as Futura) used in-game, so these were the following fonts I made use of:

Techna Sans looked similar enough to Futura when capitalized, and still looked decent in lowercase.

Jost* is a font that was derived from Futura. Some of its uppercase letters are sharper than Futura's, but it worked pretty well for the text in the credits.

Gau Font Over Drive was used for the ANIMATION SHOWCASE text.

Gen Jyuu Gothic LP was used for the majority of the Japanese text and its English letters were also used for the battle clip subtitles on Twitter.

Meiryo UI (default font) was used for the Preview videos’ subtitles.

Noto Serif JP (default Google font) was used for the serif Japanese text in the credits.

ABOUT NOXPLAYER ANDROID EMULATOR

ETA: AS OF VERSION 1.1.18 (04/23/21), EMULATORS NO LONGER WORK WITH HELIOSR (AS WELL AS OTHER CACALIA STUDIO GAMES). THE BELOW INFORMATION IS OUTDATED.

If, for whatever reason you’re interested in using NoxPlayer, you should take caution when installing it onto your machine. I don’t advocate for or recommend installing Nox. I had to resort to emulation so that I could record the footage and sounds directly from my computer using OBS. The reason why I used Nox specifically is because Cacalia Studio doesn’t like emulators, blocking most of them from running their games. I found further instructions on how to run the game in Nox from the Cacalia RPG Discord (via Twitter @HeliosR_en).

First, not all Nox versions are safe. It should only be installed from the official website, Bignox. More recent versions (I believe from 6.3.0.6 and up) may contain malware such as Segurazo and Chromium packaged with the installer which can be annoying to remove. The version of Nox I used was 6.3.0.0 (you can install older versions, then just don’t update it), which has Android 7 and doesn’t contain packaged malware (AFAIK).

Second, NoxPlayer may be “free” to use, but it comes with bloatware and profits off of its users’ data by collecting and sending it to many different servers. The below guide is what I used to debloat Nox and minimize communication to these servers. Scroll down the comments for additional domains to add to the hosts file.

Debloating & Optimizing Nox:

https://gist.github.com/Log1x/12d330ef7685d6fbc611d1d57efb5c29

This is another good guide that makes use of command prompt to remove additional bloatware from the emulator.

How to Remove Bloatware on Nox and LDPlayer Emulator:

https://codefaq.org/emulator/how-to-remove-bloatware-on-nox-and-ldplayer-emulator/

ENDING NOTES (TL;DR)

Images of the first and last video for the HeliosR project. We’ve come full circle!

One very tired and average person decided to translate, script, cast, direct, and edit an ambitious project all by herself using only FREE tools, and ended up taking too long to finish it. But at least she finished it, right?

Translators = RESPECT

Voice actors = RESPECT

Video editors = RESPECT

Audio engineers = R E S P E C T (their work is especially behind-the-scenes)

Hell, I even like Asch now.

During my time working on this, there was one question I always had in mind: “What would the fans want?”

I hope this follow-up has given you a bit of insight into the makings of the HeliosR project. Thank you for reading!

~RubyJCat

[ltleflrt]

Ltleflrt’s Writing Year In Review

I say this every year, but I wish I’d written more lol.  On the other hand, I thought I was probably done writing Destiel early in the year and thought I’d go into writing hibernation until a new fandom or pairing poked my muse in the ass with a sharp stick, BUT I ended up writing a whole ‘nother goddamn 100k+ fic!  So I’m thrilled af about that XD

Total 2020 Word Count: 164,013 Estimated 2020 Kudos: 1,846 Estimated 2020 Hits: 32,193

My 2020 Fics:

Hunter’s Caress: 161,095 (18,866 written in 2020)

Castiel Jameson won’t rest until the outlaw who murdered his brother faces justice, and Dean Winchester is the only man alive who can help him track the villain down. Some say Winchester is a cold-blooded killer himself; others say he’d been wronged his whole life. All Castiel knows is that the desire glinting in Dean’s green eyes is even more dangerous than he is. Castiel fights to keep his mind on business, but during the long nights on the trail with the dangerously handsome hunter he finds himself dreaming of yielding to Dean’s illicit kisses and losing himself in lawless passion.

Dean Winchester is about to hang when Castiel saves his neck with his crazy plan. But dying might be better than spending day and night playing nursemaid to such an infuriating city slicker. He appreciates the stubborn detective’s desire for justice, but he’d appreciate Cas a lot more if he’d stop being a lawman long enough to just be a man. He certainly has all the right equipment. Dean aches to run his fingers through Castiel’s dark hair, yearns to know how Castiel’s golden skin will feel against him. And before the coming of the next dawn, Dean vows to teach him the pleasures and sweet rewards of a Hunter’s Caress.

Most of this was written in 2019, which is why my Kudos and Hits are estimated, since a lot of that came from Hunter’s Caress. 

I learned so much from this project.  It’s based on a favorite book that I read for the first time when I was 11 years old, and have re-read probably twenty times since then.  Since I had the book open for reference most of the time I was working on this story, I got to compare my writing to a professional.  And y’all know what I think?  I’m kinda better at this than they are?  Not on the story creation front, because I consider Desperado’s Caress one of the best romance adventures I’ve ever read, but on the technical side of things.  Looking at the book with the eyes of a writer, with a little bit of editing experience under my belt now too, I’m just like... this is kind of a mess?  It was actually quite a boost to my ego lol

The Thing About Heaven Is...: 2,363 words

The thing about Heaven is that even though Dean has been here before, this time he’s taking the time to enjoy the experience, and things are a lot different than he expected.

I put a note on this fic that I didn’t hate the SPN Finale, even though I didn’t love it either, but I was being generous because sometimes I’ll remember what we got and I’m filled with rage.  I wake up in the middle of the night and think of all the ways it could have been better, and lose hours of sleep.  I spend far too much time yelling at Jared in my head for talking it up, and also at the imaginary C*W that lives in my head that gets to hear me ranting about how they fucked up so bad at least once a day. 

When I say that I didn’t hate the ending, what I really mean is that Dean going to Heaven first while Sam spends time back on Earth was kinda what I was expecting, so those 2 events are not bad in themselves, but the execution and the lack of Castiel on screen completely ruined it for me.

But that’s what fix it fic is for, right?  I decided to set my fix it fic post 15x20, because I know more invested and skilled writers who enjoy writing canonverse are going to give us hundreds of post 15x18 goodness, so I’ll let them do that while I work with what we got.  This was what gave me catharsis, and even though I’m never going to watch that train wreck of an episode ever again (seriously, I want to rage scream that the last “good” episode was by Bucklemming), I feel like I can come back to this fic again someday and feel some peace when I read it.

Man in the Wilderness: 142,784

As a veteran, Dean has survived more than most people could handle without going completely cuckoo. And he hasn't exactly escaped being a little messed up himself. So he's returned home to the tiny town he grew up in, retreating from a world that has become too much. But when you know everyone in town, the dating pool is shallow and it can be a little bit lonely, even when surrounded by friends and family who love him. And then a drifter on a motorcycle rolls into town, and Dean thinks just maybe this might be the man he's been waiting for.

While wandering the country in an attempt to escape his problems, Castiel's motorcycle breaks down in a small desert town. He's helplessly drawn to Dean, the town's handsome mechanic, and the feeling appears to be mutual. After months of aimless traveling, he thinks he may have finally found his way out of the wilderness.

Technically as of today this is still a WIP on AO3, but I finished the last chapter a few hours ago, so I’m counting the words in my WIP folder too lol

This was a surprise!  It’s a SPN/Destiel rewrite of my Mass Effect/mShenko fic Feels Like Home, which is the first story I ever wrote that made me feel like a popular writer.  Early this year I was brainstorming ideas for a fic where Castiel was the mechanic instead of Dean, and I jokingly said to @jupiterjames that I should do Feels Like Home, with Castiel as the mechanic.  She was enthusiastic about it, but I just laughed it off at first because what a silly idea.  Then I started poking at it.  Like a bruise.  Couldn’t stop.

Obviously I dropped the Mechanic!Cas angle, because it didn’t feel right for the story.  But as soon as I thought y’know, what if it was Mechanic!Dean and Drifter!Cas my muse came roaring awake screaming DO IT DO IT DO IT.

So I did.  And it was even more of a learning experience than writing Hunter’s Caress!  Because now I’m seeing my older writing (7 years holy shit!!), and I’m seeing all the ways I’ve improved over the better part of a decade, and finding even more ways to improve as I go through the rewrite. 

For a couple years now, I’ve felt kind of stagnant in my writing.  I have felt like I lost My Voice, and I was struggling to figure out what was wrong.  Was I just bored?  Yes, probably.  But also, I think I needed to look back at some of my older works that I fucking loved and thought couldn’t be improved...and improve them. 

Just Keep Writing You’ll Get There is good advice.  But it wasn’t working for me, because I’ve written 1-2 novels a year since I started writing fic in 2012, so it’s not like I was just staring at my screen and not putting any words on it while I angsted.  Read And Rewrite Your Old Shit was the next step in my evolution.  I highly recommend it if you’re also feeling stagnant and stuck XD

I’m also super amused, because Feels Like Home was 112k, and at the time it was the longest thing I’d ever written.  On accident.  Like I do.  It was supposed to be for an 8k mini-bang, and I had to drop out because obviously it got away from me and I wasn’t going to make the deadline.  As I was doing the Destiel rewrite, I had to keep cutting scenes and characters out that were specific to Mass Effect, and I speculated that the new fic would be shorter than the original. Ha.  Hahaha.  HahahahahaHAHAHAHAKDJHFADKJHF... fuck I am a wordy bitch.