howthesleeplesswander

[howthesleeplesswander]

There his partner went again: giving him far more credit than he deserved. "I wouldn't be so sure about that," Kazuma chuckled at his own expense. He wouldn't make excuses for his past decisions, but he was nothing if not a fast learner. He would never make those mistakes again.

And yet he certainly felt a fool beneath Ryunosuke's gaze. It was nothing short of dangerous how the attention of those eyes made the city around them fade away as heat crawled in their wake. He couldn't be anything but a fool for not realizing that this should have been his purpose all along. Not vengeance; simply the desire—no, the need—to prove himself a man worthy of the adoration in that stare. How could anything else have ever mattered more than this?

Again: he wouldn't repeat that mistake, either.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say that sounded suspiciously like an invitation," Kazuma teased with a twinkle in his eye. In all fairness, he supposed both of them were well past the point of caring about scandal, all things considered. Still, he'd be lying if he said that Ryunosuke's fearlessness in the face of it didn't excite him. He quirked a brow at his partner, almost in a dare. After all, Ryunosuke's assessment was spot-on: Kazuma didn't care in the slightest. Why, he could imagine the headlines now...

But before he could do anything rash, mention of their...escapades in the Yumei University library triggered a devious thought. "Neither have I." The agreement rode out on a heated tone; one that would surely be deemed inappropriate for the public, if London's citizens ever paused their bustling long enough to overhear. His gaze lingered on that impish smile.

"You know," he began, words slow and thoughtful, the creep of lava across scorched earth, "there is a library in the Old Bailey. I'll admit that's a bit...generous of a term for it; it's only one room, full of legal tomes and reference books so the staff have easy access." Releasing one of Ryunosuke's hands allowed him to hold the other in both of his own. He barely resisted the desire to kiss his fingertips as he drew it towards himself. Instead, one grip slid down, cradling his wrist as he held Ryunosuke's palm over his heartbeat, the opposite thumb gently caressing across his knuckles. "Perhaps I should show you once we've had our fill of the Exhibition. See if we can't recreate some of those memories from university, hm?"

“You’re not a fool, Kazuma,” Ryunosuke countered, the fondness in his partner’s eyes reflected with a dash of exasperation. “Ridiculous, sure. But that hasn’t changed; one might say I’m exceptionally well-trained in handling it.” He maintained that fluttery air of impishness—both natural and his own private means of preventing this conversation from utterly destroying him out here beneath the public eye. Wouldn’t be the first time, of course. The public gallery, at the very least, got to witness this strange little foreigner trip over himself on plenty of occasions in the Old Bailey, but Ryunosuke concluded if he had any power over stopping it . . . he’d certainly try.

But Kazuma continued to look at him like that. Brimming with so many emotions that should’ve been as expertly handled as the man’s “ridiculousness.” Because Kazuma had, for as long as he could remember, held him in such devastatingly high regard no matter what transpired, no matter how much he stumbled his way through most everything life tossed at him, no matter the instances where Ryunosuke dared to say he fell short. Kazuma always loved him. Logically, it’d make sense to just eventually get used to that, wouldn’t it? Where his breath wouldn’t catch in his throat when he met the adoration practically burning in the other’s gaze, where his knees wouldn’t almost buckle beneath him like a lovesick child all over again—

Goodness . . . that was just it. As much as he could get used to Kazuma’s quirks, to his headstrong perseverance, to his ridiculous antics (a different flavor than the antics of a certain detective, naturally)—

Ryunosuke perhaps needed to accept he’d never get used to Kazuma.

It was as hopeless as trying to breathe in the undertow, and how fitting that was. Kazuma always had a way of yanking him along, while Ryunosuke always had a way of letting it happen.

And he’d continue to. Again and again.

Thankfully, since he was so very accustomed to his partner’s ways, when Kazuma loomed that much closer, he managed to hold his own. No move was made to reestablish any proper distance, but he in turn angled his head to meet Kazuma’s eyes, his brows lifting with mock astonishment at an audacity he’d come to expect. “Oh, are you rather certain of that—?” he challenged. Slowly, and with a mix of playful intent and his own inability to resist, his attention skirted down to the lips hovering in an intimate proximity. Ryunosuke carefully inhaled, exhaled.

He looked back up. “You and I both know you don’t care about etiquette anyway. Don’t think I’ve forgotten the university library.” And as much as he kept a level tone, the mere thought of what . . . activities just so happened to occur there betrayed him with a fresh shudder down his spine. Ryunosuke shook his head as he relented, “If the ‘temptation’ is truly so great, Kazuma, we can at least practice a similar discretion here.” It wasn’t as if he was as against the idea as he should be . . . and, save him, Kazuma had to know that, as well.

He really was far too weak for this man.

[howthesleeplesswander]

another surprise starter for @thrillvibin bc jfc mishka is the most pathetic, needy muse i've ever had and that's saying something aslfjsd

"So...you probably have questions, right?"

Only a few pieces remained of their pizza, the box mostly empty where it sat atop the mattress between their splayed legs. Normally Mishka didn't care for the food at Strexa—it always felt too fancy, like it was trying too damn hard—but even though it wasn't nearly as greasy or cheesy as either of them preferred, the pizza had still tasted like heaven after days of starvation while in captivity.

From the moment he'd been taken, Mishka had known that nothing would ever be the same (assuming he even made it out alive). The secret was out. Over a decade of lies, of trying so hard to protect Sasha from all of this...and now he was so far beyond involved. Why did Mishka have to be so fucking selfish?

He never would have guessed how much Sasha had changed while he was gone. And now that he was back, for the first time since...hell, since childhood, probably—they'd actually talked. Really talked. About them, their relationship, their wants and feelings, and everything that had gone wrong. All because Sasha had been so afraid of losing him. (The way Mishka's heart couldn't help but flutter at that thought was pretty damning evidence of his own problems.)

But even counting all of that...

He wasn't sure that Sasha would even want to talk about the rest. At least, maybe not yet—not after everything they'd already shared. Still, the whole "assassin" thing was the last elephant in the room. The least Mishka could do after everything Sasha had confessed was try to clear the air once and for all.

"About all this, I mean," he clarified, twirling a hand in the air to indicate the room, the entire tower, and everything that meant. His arm flopped back down around the other's shoulders where he was tucked into Mishka's uninjured side, giving a gentle squeeze. "You can ask, if you want. I won't lie to you anymore."

[howthesleeplesswander]

“Oh, Basil Bo~oy! I saw a flower growing between the sidewalk cracks on my way here and thought of you! ღゝ◡╹)ノ♡ It definitely got run over by a bike two seconds later, but it was, like, super cute before that happened. ♡”

Answered! || @falsiliar

"You—...really thought about me?" Not that 'seeing any kind of plant and thinking of Basil' was all that special. It made sense; everyone knew he loved gardening. But that wasn't the part of Kokichi's sentiment that gave him pause.

'Super cute'...? What was that supposed to mean??

Basil hesitated, waiting for Kokichi to take back the words or morph them into an insult any second. When nothing more was said after a few beats of staring, however, Basil's eyes quickly averted to the ground.

"That's...kind of you." He felt the blush rising to his cheeks and desperately tried to fight it down before he could be ridiculed for it. "D-don't worry about the bike, though—wildflowers are actually pretty resilient, so...it's probably fine."

[howthesleeplesswander]

Just as he was about to show his friend a bit of mercy and snatch the phone before it could plummet, Sasha finally managed it himself. Mishka's laughter echoed into the night, nearly drowning out the club's pounding music.

"What was that juggling act? You jumped so hard you looked like you were going to go to the moon!" Mishka wheezed between cackles. Any attempt to block the onslaught of slaps was halfhearted at best. He barely felt it through the flood of affection in his chest that was basically a constant whenever he was with Sasha.

Once the attack relented, he threw an arm around the other's shoulders and leaned back into his personal space. "I think your phone just used up all of its nine lives. Probably should try not to drop it again." Eyeing the device, Mishka's amusement mellowed when he caught the name at the top of the text conversation on-screen. "Ugh. What does he want?"

The question about his own lateness merely earned a shrug. "I was across town; you know how slow the buses are." At least the excuse was only half a lie this time. Sasha didn't need to know he'd been running behind because he'd sprinted all the way here from Strexa Tower after his own boss kept him later than planned for a briefing. As if the guy wasn't infuriating enough...

But it was easy to shove thoughts of work aside now that they were together again. Mishka's grin quickly returned, this time edging into mischievous. "Why, did I keep you waiting long?"

“Ugh . . . are you fucking kidding me?” 

A disgruntled murmur was lost beneath the din of the lively street, and for a guy who claimed to be cautious, Sasha was exceptionally unaware of his surroundings in the minutes leading up to his friend’s approach. He remained locked in the glow of his phone, brightness of the screen washing over the twisted scowl on his face as he scrolled through a disturbance to this fun evening. Tomorrow was supposed to be his day off . . . which was why the consequences of a long night out wouldn’t have been a problem until now—

His thumbs tapped on the keys, a rightly peeved message to his boss along the lines of, “Can’t you get someone else to do it?” forming in the text box. But just as he was about to hit “Send,” a voice not only heard right by his ear, but felt in a hot breath caused him to nearly jump out of his skin.

Sasha’s phone became a hot potato, bouncing around his hands an impressive number of times before he snagged it and successfully avoided catastrophe. He swung around, his brain catching up to exactly who was looming behind him in time to tell his heart to calm down— Though that didn’t stop him from batting at Mishka’s arm scornfully.

“What! Is! Wrong with you!?” His words were accentuated by harmless slaps, but despite it all, he couldn’t prevent the smile growing on his face. “You’re the worst! I was this close to decking you!” He waved his phone in Mishka’s face, and Sasha shook his head as he finally relented. “What took you so long?”

[howthesleeplesswander]

-crashes in after my months long hiatus to sprinkle- ☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

☆ put this star into the inbox of your favourite blogs. it's time to spread positivity!

Answered! || @grislyintentions

((ASDFLKD YOU ABSOLUTE SWEETHEART /)//////(\ This is so kind of you, I'm gonna cryyy ;A; You're sooo incredible and talented, I'm honored to receive this from you! ;w;/ ALL THESE STARS RIGHT BACK AT YOU FOR YOUR AMAZING AND DELIGHTFUL PORTRAYALS 🙌❤️))

[howthesleeplesswander]

Basil wasn't sure if it was possible to ever really get used to Kokichi, but he'd learned how to endure long before the town's newcomer ever moved in.

It wasn't that his heart was immune. Insults and cruelty didn't bounce harmlessly off like a knife against armor and leave him unfazed. (Basil wished that were the case—that he could be fearless like Kel, or confident like Hero.)

He felt every word as a stab to his heart. But then the shadow roiling at his back absorbed that knife before it could dig too deep in what may look like mercy, if only it knew such a thing. The Something did not pity. It did not spare. It only added that new weapon to its teeth: a promise of pain that would come later, in the darkness where it always took hold.

Still, Basil upheld his smile as if being called "naturally pitiful" was praise for some kind of innate talent: always ensuring his shadows were locked away where no one else could see. Kokichi's sudden shift in tone didn't give him quite as much whiplash as it used to, although he still blinked at the other boy once he stood opposite the bench, lagging to catch up.

"O-oh, well—" Basil un-crumpled the top of the bag and opened it enough to show inside. "It's just seeds, mostly." A hand reached in and withdrew a few seed packets, both for flowers and garden veggies. "Polly used up all the carrots, so I thought I'd plant some more. And I've been wanting to try growing some zinnias...Oh! I got a new pair of pruning shears, too; my old ones were pretty dull."

Not that he thought Kokichi cared about gardening, but he knew by now that it was easiest to just go along with whatever he asked. "Sorry," he said automatically as he dropped the seeds back into the bag. Hard to tell if the apology was for the supplies that Kokichi would no doubt find boring, for the obvious question—or for what he was about to say next. This little sunflower never really learned, did he? "But...I-I really don't think she deserves to be called that..." Gaze dropping, Basil picked at a frayed strand of plastic on one of the bag's handles. "Just because we're not friends anymore doesn't mean she's...y-you know. That."

@howthesleeplesswander || cont.

It was always the quiet ones.

Or the ones who remained locked up in their homes and hadn’t seen the light of day in literal years. . . . That guy tooootally wasn’t a creep and definitely didn’t have about a thousand skeletons in his closet and under his bed, but since dragging him out of his cocoon of shadiness seemed mostly impossible, Kokichi had to focus on the former—

So he did.

With increasing frequency, whenever he had the chance (and Basil actually answered his door when someone came knocking, so that made things way easier).

Kokichi didn’t know what had happened. Of course he didn’t know, beyond the attempt at hush-hush talk that inevitably spread like locusts through any small town. Something about a girl named Mari. Or—cute, but no; let’s get real here: Everything about a girl named Mari. And everything about this little group of pals who now all behaved like complete weirdos around each other ever since the Incident (capitalized). Aubrey and Kel had to be the most insufferable: Aubrey with her “tough girl” schtick thinking waving a bat around and barking insults was the A+ coping mechanism and absolutely covered her insecurities really really well; Kel with his grating optimism as if he wasn’t soaking his pillow with tears each night.

And then there was Basil.

It was always the quiet ones. Always the quiet ones. And something about this little doormat had Kokichi intrigued since day one.

(There was no way—no way—this kid wasn’t hiding something.)

He played this game with him, poking and prodding at him whenever he could—at every turn keeping a sharp eye on the faintest reaction. Even now, pressed against his back, Kokichi sharpened his focus on the minor flinch, on his efforts to make himself smaller as usual, on the stammering that poured out quietly, but with a noticeable difference of inflection since they first met. (Noticeably—even mildly—more comfortable. . . . Never a good idea with Kokichi.) He absorbed it all. Filed it away. And pressed forward with no evidence of his process.

“Oh! No, you know what? You’re right.” His head flopped to the other side, the tone of his voice carrying a pout Basil couldn’t currently see. “You’re just naturally pitiful. My bad. Super dumb of me. Won’t happen again.” And then Kokichi leaned forward on his toes, craning his neck in a feeble attempt to better see what was in that shopping bag . . . as if he actually gave a crap. “Oooh! What’d’ya get, Basil! What is it? Something for me? Show me!” With an excitable little bounce, he came around to Basil’s front, still curiously eyeing the mysterious contents in his lap.

But, of course, as a quick sidenote, “I swiped this from a baby on my way over.” He brandished the lollipop before sticking it back in his mouth. “—is what the pink bitch might say. Because, like . . . wow, now you’re sharing spit with a baby. Sooo cool and hygienic and scary.” Kokichi waved a dramatic hand in the air, eyes rolling. “Uh, ya doy; I came from the candy shop. Deduction 100.”

[howthesleeplesswander]

☆ put this star into the inbox of your favourite blogs. it's time to spread positivity!

Answered! || @ghoststellar

((AHHHHH YOU ARE SO INCREDIBLY SWEET MY FRIEND ;//A//; all the same back at you!! ;w;/ I absolutely adore your blog and all of your phenomenal muses!! ❤️❤️❤️))

[howthesleeplesswander]

|| Rody Lamoree ||

I'm so late to the fandom; I wish I have known about this game beforehand-

I could've had a plushie........... 😭💀

[howthesleeplesswander]

[ txt ] i'm never letting you train me again [ txt ] i'ms O SOOOOOOORE WTFFFFFF [ txt ] ur pure evil it's decided [ txt ] next time i'm just gonna watch [ txt ] 👀👌 like nice

// @ Mishka bc of our convo abt him teaching sasha self-defense gfnjhoafdgnjhao

Answered! || @thrillvibin

[ txt ] we BARELY trained for 30 mins [ txt ] don't be a baby

Mishka had paused mid-jog to affectionately roll his eyes at his phone. Not that it was a surprise that Sasha had only lasted that long; that was the whole point. No wonder he couldn't even run a few blocks without practically collapsing.

...And not that Sasha's whining about it wasn't adorable, buuut that lack of stamina wasn't good for getting out of trouble. Which was ridiculous, honestly. Mishka knew firsthand that his partner had plenty of stamina, but apparently only when he wanted to.

[ txt ] i'm taking u running with me next time [ txt ] gotta get ur strength up 💪 [ txt ] then it won't be so bad ;)

[howthesleeplesswander]

[ txt ] hey ur gonna run out of shirts if you KEEP LEAVING THEM HEre [ txt ] bc they're mine now js [ txt ] no returns no refunds [ txt ] sucks for you. this one's really cozy :)

// @ Mishka ofc ;D sasha's officially a THIEF now too ( ‾́ ◡ ‾́ )

Answered! || @thrillvibin

[ txt ] DAMN [ txt ] did i leave something there AGAIN?

To Mishka's credit, he was aware that this was the oldest ploy in the book. But even though Sasha likely knew that he did it on purpose, the thought of Sasha wearing his clothes still made something deep and possessive in the pit of his stomach curl with pleasure.

[ txt ] u better wear it next time i come over [ txt ] i gotta test how cozy u are in it [ txt ] and then take it off u ;)

[howthesleeplesswander]

"That's not what I meant," he chided, still exasperated. "I do not need you to mother me, Jayce." Stubbornness aside, Viktor wasn't ignorant of his own bad habits. He knew he needed to eat and sleep, and he knew he should indulge in both far more frequently. Doing otherwise was unhealthy.

But there was the crux of the matter. Even running on zero sleep and maybe half a meal a day if he could tear himself away, Viktor's body in its current state was leagues healthier than it eventually would be. That invisible clock loomed over his head, always ticking down, and he had no idea how much time remained. He had to take advantage; he had to work as much as he could, while he could.

Yet he also knew such an explanation would be unsatisfactory for Jayce. The man was nothing short of bullheaded about this particular subject for reasons Viktor couldn't fathom—hence their current predicament.

As they approached a staircase, Viktor considered the disaster that could befall them with a new kind of panic, but they began their descent before he could protest. Instinct drove him to clutch tighter to Jayce's attire, ceasing his wriggling to allow Jayce to concentrate for both their sakes. But even here, his partner kept him effortlessly stable, and Viktor's worry faded with each step.

A brief silence stretched between them, filled only with the rhythmic patter of shoes on tile. Rather than use the lull to reflect on the absurd position in which he found himself, however, Viktor couldn't help but be...distracted.

With his initial outrage quelled, other sensations rose to the forefront. For the first time, Viktor registered the feeling of Jayce all around him, suddenly and acutely aware of his...well, everything invading his personal space. He felt the impressive strength of the arms carrying him like it was nothing; and not just carrying him—but cradling him close, firm yet gentle, like something to be cherished. He felt the warmth of Jayce’s broad chest pressed along one side of his body and beneath the grip on his shirt. Viktor abruptly withdrew his hand as the color dusting his face grew rosier.

This had reached a new level of ridiculous, now. Viktor shoved down inappropriate thoughts the likes of which he'd already decided months ago not to entertain. Such foolishness wasn't worth compromising their work together. He crossed his arms to ensure he couldn't unconsciously grab the other man again and glared at a point in the distance. At least he'd already been flushed with righteous fury; hopefully this would go unnoticed.

When Jayce piped up again, Viktor (with effort) ignored the way he could feel the rise and fall of his breaths and the heat of them billowing down. "And people call me stubborn," he huffed. Not that he could argue with statements they both knew were true. Finally he sighed. "All right, fine. I will accompany you to get something to eat—if you put me down so I may do so of my own volition. Is that enough to satisfy you?"

Jayce noticed the slightest shift. And by “slightest,” he definitely meant slightest: Viktor still glared at him like he couldn’t possibly be a more offensive existence stealing his air; he still wriggled despite the warning, making it imperative that Jayce readjust his grip and hold him tighter; and he still complained with an edge to his tone that was probably sharper than any existing weapon. But. But. As the explanation for this atrocious behavior sunk in, the coldness to Viktor’s reactions seemed . . . less biting. Less angry, maybe, and more appalled.

—which was incredibly funny, Jayce thought to himself. Another reason why that smile on his face hadn’t fully vanished and just now twitched wider again: Come on, Viktor. You know me. Why is this surprising? And when an exasperated analysis of the situation came roaring at him next, that smile was accompanied by the roll of his eyes.

“Absolutely, it’s ridiculous,” he agreed, and since he’d yet to be dissuaded by all the hostility, he thought it wise to press this further with a cheeky elaboration. “The fact that it takes this for you to properly take care of yourself . . . ? Yeah, you’re right. I agree; it’s ridiculous. Anything else—?”

Jayce was really tempting fate here (or, more alarmingly, his partner’s patience), but despite the cursory worry of this grudge becoming a longstanding issue, he didn’t falter. He went on ahead, located a staircase, and began a descent with care . . . all the while silently hoping Viktor would figure this was the exact wrong place to put up more of a fuss.

Last thing either of them needed was an accident. Jayce would never forgive himself (especially after how adamantly he was going about this whole thing). So, he angled his torso as he navigated the steps, keeping a watchful eye on where he put his feet. And in that brief and quiet concentration, his puffed-up posture slackened, cockiness thinning out just enough for a light sigh to breach his lips. He chanced another look at the flushed complexion of his partner.

Yep. Definitely anger. . . . for the most part.

“Look”—his attention shifted back to ensure Viktor’s safety—“you and I both know you’d work all the way through the night if someone didn’t drag you away. And, crazy pitch, but you’re still human and still need to look after yourself, okay? If it makes you feel any better, you can get me back—and I know you will. I won’t have a right to complain. Deal?”

[howthesleeplesswander]

Another year goes by

[howthesleeplesswander]

Much like the first time, the envelope waiting on Kaz’s desk would have been innocent…if the flower attached to the outside didn’t give it away. This time it’s an azalea affixed to the letter with a silk ribbon. Vibrant pink fades towards the tip of each petal into a lighter shade, one that unknowingly mirrors the color dusting a certain florist’s cheeks as she wrote the accompanying message: 

Kaz, It is finally my absolute favorite time of year! Although, not that you would know it from looking outside most days. Wintertime is beautiful in its own way, of course, but I cannot help but feel melancholy when the cold lingers like this. I admit that this letter is sent with slightly selfish intent, for I can think of no better way to cheer myself up than to write to you. How have you been? I regret that it has been some time now since we last saw each other. Perhaps that is another reason I have felt wistful as of late. I do hope you have been taking care of yourself.  The flowers have been equally unhappy about the continued cold weather, but I am grateful that I was still able to coax some azaleas to bloom. As one of the first flowers to flourish at the onset of spring, they symbolize life, rebirth, and renewal. I plan to use them to decorate the outside of the shop to hopefully help usher in the springtime spirit—even if there is still snow on the ground! I apologize for not sending you another flower that is more to your taste. Still, I thought your rose may want some company, and besides, it is my humble opinion that everyone should have a bit of springtime color to brighten their day.  Speaking of the season, there is going to be a festival next week to celebrate! I have been asked to create some arrangements for the occasion, so I will have to do a bit of work, but if you would not mind as much, perhaps we could attend together? I have missed spending time with you. Wishing you all the best, ~ Spring

@howthesleeplesswander || in which kaz has a whole-ass breakdown bc a cute girl keeps sending him letters. more at 10

He liked to think he handled the gesture with more grace this time. (At first.)

There was no freezing in the doorway. No staring with the wide frightened eyes of a man facing the barrel of a gun instead of a Saints-forsaken flower on his desk. No oscillating. No hesitation. Barely even a second’s pause when his eyes caught a splash of color in what was otherwise dark and muted. He assessed the situation in a blink, no trouble. But despite all of that well-managed composure, one thing not only remained from the time before, but had somehow become stronger—no different than a swig of brandy’s effect on an empty stomach.

Like some lovesick podge, his heart performed acrobatics that’d put even Inej to shame: jumps and twirls that he’d long forgotten it knew . . . as if the damned thing had been chained down for all these years and was finally free again. From a single look. That was all it needed. And he wrestled with the excitement a man like him was never supposed to have over a girl giving him her time of day. He should’ve been embarrassed. Exasperated, even. Anything to remind himself to stay in check—

Instead, Kaz Brekker found himself smiling vaguely as he closed the door behind him and deposited his hat and coat in their proper places. He couldn’t bring himself to be anything but pleased. And, even if it was just for those pitiful minutes alone in his office, he’d not exercise how utterly crooked and wrong this should’ve felt.

He’d been thinking of her. (When was he not?) She’d been thinking of him.

Saints, it was reckless, the way every nerve in his body reacted to that alone. . . . Forget anything within the letter itself.

—but of course he had to read it.

Much like the first time, he consumed those words like they were a prayer and he was devout (which was amusing, as was the thought that if he were to submit to that hogwash, Spring would be the subject). He read over each line slowly, a calm cadence in his otherwise chaotic mind, then did so again. And again. As if he of all people would miss a damn thing among it all. . . . Or maybe he was just greedy for every last drop of ink.

Some part of him couldn’t quite believe it. That someone like him could bring someone like her the cheer of which she spoke . . . and so freely, too—like she had absolutely nothing to be ashamed of. (Though her note on selfishness was something he filed away for later: She had to know there wasn’t a selfish bone in her body, nor any trickle of malice in her veins.) It could be confirmed then, if it wasn’t already, that he’d never get used to her . . . Her. Just her. From the way she spoke of those passions of hers—and included him as if he had any taste in flowers at all—to the fast and forward expression of her desires, as well.

He found it admirable. He found it fresh. He found it novel and more beautiful than he could ever express in words . . . not like she with these letters that he’d branded on his heart. She made him want to try. She made him hopeful that there could be more, no matter how much he’d never be the man she deserves— No, ridiculous; he could become that man. He could try.

He would try.

After another reread of that same flawless script, his attention eventually skirted over to that glaringly pink flower. It should’ve taunted him more than the last, standing out like a pinprick of blinding light in the dark, but Kaz wasn’t remotely offended. When he reached for it and a gloved finger traced the edges of one petal, inexplicably, he minutely flinched. Silly, the thoughts that waltzed through his mind. Foolish. As uncharacteristic as the leaps in his chest, the heightened rhythm that hadn’t yet steadied since he walked through the door.

But, Saints, he really was just a man, wasn’t he?

And so, after careful consideration (of how halfwitted this all was), Kaz slowly removed his glove. With that bare hand, he claimed the thin stem of the flower, letting the silky texture of pink petals glide over his thumb while he contemplated Spring’s own fingers doing the same. His throat tightened for a beat. His next exhale fluttered out weaker than the last. The muscles in his hand flexed, twitched, and then Kaz shook his head, set the flower down, and abruptly got to his feet.

He yanked that glove back over his hand. It as much felt suffocating as it did relieving, as was his choking back that swell of warmth that climbed his neck. Kaz headed straight back to the door, retreated from his office in one swift move without a single glance over his shoulder again—to that opened letter or innocent flower lying there beside it.

Truly, he hadn’t yet decided his destination. Only that, first, he needed a drink.

[howthesleeplesswander]

Guess every iteration of this guy was bound to be a spitfire, huh? Ken fought back a smirk with only partial success. Still, he met the other's quick-sparking rage with a raised brow and amusement in his voice.

"Whoa, simmer down, short-stack. Don't want you blowing a gasket." Theoretically, at least. The part of him that was disturbed beyond repair by a decade of horrors and trauma couldn't help but think it'd be funny to watch.

"Not sure if you noticed, but your sorry little lapdog isn't here right now." Ken shrugged, unapologetic and unbothered by the other man's venom. At least they agreed on one thing: just because that other-him shared his face didn't mean he was anything like Ken himself. "The least you could do for the guy trying to help you out is cool it with the insults—maybe even have a little common courtesy, if you can manage that much."

「 ✦ 🎬 ᴄᴏɴᴛɪɴᴜᴇ ꜱᴄᴇɴᴇ ˎˊ˗ @howthesleeplesswander ✦ 」

    Jealous? Jealous? He didn't even exist to him ––or that what he was telling himself, denial is an intoxicating poison after all–– much less occupied enough space in his mind to create such revolting emotions within him. Is that what his clone had to put up with? Somewhere deep in his heart, he felt bad for the newbie who shared his face...

    ... but even deeper down he felt unrelenting rage towards the nuisance in front of him.

    ❝I'm not sure if you noticed -or notice anything for that matter- that unlike you, Bryce actually knows when to shut up & mostly behaves,❞ his compliments towards his absent accomplice seemed closer to the praise heard from a dog owner showing off their canine during a talent competition, but it's the closest he could bring himself to ever be nice toward either of the towering blond men, ❝but yes, there is someone whom I'm jealous of – and it's anyone who never had the misfortune of meeting a blabbering egoist like you.❞

[howthesleeplesswander]

surprise starter for @thrillvibin owo/

Crisp wind battered Mishka's skin, carrying the symphony of nightlife up from the streets far below where he ran across the rooftops of Sobena's densely-packed buildings. Adrenaline pumped through his veins, but not because he was on the job tonight. No, this was a different kind of excitement. A much better kind.

Upbeat music soon joined the sounds of car engines and honking. After a few more rooftops, Mishka walked fearlessly to the edge to survey the crowds outside the nightclub across the street. Like his eyes were magnetized to the one person he always sought, he immediately spotted Sasha just down the sidewalk from the line waiting for entry.

An eager buzz filled his chest as he scaled the fire escape at the back of the building, then crossed the street towards the club. His attention hardly left Sasha all the while: faced away from him, seemingly preoccupied with his phone—and, well, if he was going to make it so easy, how could Mishka resist a bit of fun?

He didn't even need to try to conceal his approach thanks to the thumping bass pouring out from the entrance. Once he was right behind his distracted friend, Mishka leaned down and spoke in Sasha's ear, "Waiting for someone?"

[howthesleeplesswander]

ARCANE LEAGUE OF LEGENDS: 2x02 - “Watch It All Burn” ↳ "You need not suffer anymore."

[howthesleeplesswander]

[ txt ] dude u gotta get over here fast [ txt ] the store had a sale [ txt ] guess who's got two huge jars of pb ?? this guyy [ txt ] u want one yea? [ txt ] :3

—he may or may not have the biggest shit-eating grin on his face as he sets his phone on the counter and continues unpacking his groceries. It's called generosity. Sasha doesn't share his food with just anyone.

Answered! || @thrillvibin

Any initial excitement Mishka felt from the first text was short-lived. He only hoped Sasha could sense how hard he rolled his eyes.

[ txt ] ur trying to kill me aren't u [ txt ] i see how it is [ txt ] fine, i AM coming over [ txt ] and i'm throwing it all away when i get there [ txt ] i'll protect you from the evil dw dw <3

Hey, he wasn't about to waste the invitation—even if Sasha tried to force-feed him peanut butter once he arrived. Oh, the things he did for love...

And so Mishka shoved his phone in his pocket and started down the sidewalk towards Sasha's place to follow through on his threat promise.