#but also I’m simultaneously so so sleepy and hyper so like

[skyward-floored]

oog okay now I’m regretting staying up ridiculously late

[lunewell]

The Lunewell Saga - Natura: Ch 3

Chapter 1 here

Chapter 2 here

Can also be read on ao3 (:

Book Sumary:

Zarifa Birch, an antique shop worker with an unusual past, has made a home for herself in the sleepy town of Lunewell. Though the shop she works at is not exactly ordinary, with cryptid items and odd occurrences, she has managed to carve the normal life she always desperately wished for out of it.

However, all that comes crumbling down, as a woman from Zarifa’s past throws everything into chaos. Faced with unimaginable horrors, seemingly unsolvable mysteries, and returning repressed feelings and memories, Zarifa along with her coworkers, must find a way to return the balance- and escape the cruel hands of death in this eldritch horror mystery

As always, he had not been himself in the night. He had been an old man, holding a rather nice-smelling bag, walking through the forest towards… something. Something he cared about.

His thoughts were not quite his own, but not the man's either; more a drowsy sort of mish-mash of voices, a bit like falling asleep in the middle of a bustling city. However, none of it really mattered, as he very much felt, smelled, and lived in the forest, above the crunchy leaves and around the warm scent. So hard to place. It was familiar, and yet, the exact detail of it had faded out.

He could hear his own voice, humming. It did not sound like his voice, not really, but it felt like his own, and that was enough for it to be his own. The vibrations travelled through his chest as he burst out in melodic sounds. He was humming a workers’ song, one that someone in his family had sung. Again, the details were blurry, like there was a block in his brain.

The forest was calm, basking in a sunny glow. Autumn leaves decked the ground, and the trees looked familiar. There was a comfort in this place, a home in the scent of mud and moss, and one that he cherished happily.

The trees, though originally quiet to his senses, rustled softly in a pleasant way. The wind must’ve been extra strong, he must’ve just not noticed it through the thick shield of stems.

The trees rustled once more, and felt a beat against the soles of his feet. It was slight, barely noticeable, but it got him to tilt his stiff, aged, neck downwards, if even just for a second.

It was then that it truly happened.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the trees curving, but he didn’t have any time to process as he was slammed down to the ground by a vine sprouting from the ground. A crack wrecked through his body, not unlike the sound a carrot makes when snapping, and he, in what simultaneously was and wasn’t his voice, howled in pain. His leg, already weak to begin with, felt as though it had been ripped in two, and he could clearly see red blood leaking from where the knee was bent at an unnatural angle. Fire coursed through his nerves, burning from his leg to his spine. The pain was so mind-numbing that he didn’t notice the much pointier vine heading right for him until it was too late.

As though it was sentient, a throned vine plunged at him, and punctured right into his stomach. It sliced all the way through him, as though his body was not but soft butter, before pulling out in an equally swift motion and landing him limp on the ground.

There was no pain, even as thorns began to wrap around and puncture every millimeter of skin, only numbness. Numbness from pain that could not be described in the English language. Numbness that no one alive had ever felt. Numbness that acted as a relenting defeat against his continuous fight for any hope of life.

And as he lay there, hands bloodstained, stomach gaping, and so incredibly empty, he feared. Feared for his wife, feared for his unachieved goals, feared for what was coming next. Even this fear, however, held a tragic sort of air to it, as it was dulled down by unrelenting numbness.

The numbness faded, along with all thoughts, as white, hot, pain came crashing down like a hammer. He let out one last pitiful, agony filled screech - for a scream was much too human to cover the sound - muffled by the thorns that had stuck themselves into his lips, before everything went black in what was truly the kindest mercy. ————————————————

Bruin awoke with a gasp, clutching his stomach. His eyes darted around his barren room, pulse racing at an olympic level under his skin. With a weak breath - still clutching his stomach with an iron grip - he closed his eyes, and repeated his mantra; You’re Bruin Becker, you’re not them, you’re safe.

The phrase played over and over again in his mind as his vision slowly morphed from a blur of panic, to the usual, groggy morning one. Taking a more stable breath, he slowly let go of his stomach. He couldn’t resist scanning his hands for blood, though he knew there was none.

Once he was sure his hands were clean, he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, and watched the world come to life. The white desk and closet popped from the midnight blue walls, the sheets on his bed clear as glass. He glanced at his face in the mirror, and was not surprised at what he saw; deep, dark bags under his slender eyes, porcupine-like hair, and a thin sheet of sweat that lined his forehead.

He collapsed back into his bed with a tired sigh, wanting nothing more than to ignore the clock that was taunting him with the ridiculous hour he had awoken. He would probably do that. Go back to blissful sleep, that is. He doubted he even had gotten an ounce of it because of his stupid… nightmares? Visions? Whatever they were.

He closed his eyes, relaxing back into his bed, mind so far gone and forgetting one quintessentially, very, important thing. A thing he was oh-so-kindly reminded of by what could have only been described as the sound of every single plate in the house shattering at once.

With an almost inhuman speed, Bruin threw the cover from his bed, and darted to the room next door. He adjusted his hair along the way in a frantic motion, pulse having quickened yet again at the commotion. He braked as he reached the kitchen doorway, looking at the source of the sound.

On the grey tiles sat a dazed Grant, covered head to toe in flour, shards of ceramic plates scattered around him like a bomb had just gone off. Grant looked sheepishly at Bruin, blue eyes just as bagged as his own. “Uhh… good morning?”

Bruin couldn’t help the look of absolute disappointment that rolled over his face. “How did you manage to - never mind. I don’t want to know,” he said, exasperated, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Well, if you must know,” Grant began, ignoring Bruin’s statement, “I was trying to make pancakes. Keyword there being trying.” He got up and tried dusting off the flour powdered on him like snow, but gave up almost immediately. “It was a shame really. I make lovely pancakes. It’s the only good thing about living with me, according to my dearest exes.”

“I’m surprised they listed any good things about living with you,” Bruin mumbled, before joining Grant to pick up the last pieces of the plates.

Though he would never admit it, Grant had been a blessing in disguise. When he first rented the little cottage in Lunewell, he had accepted that his co-worker would be an annoying, messy, music-box obsessed pest in the house that he would hopefully have to deal with as little as humanly possible.

Yet, almost like a mold, he had to admit that Grant had grown on him. Sure, he still couldn’t stand the messiness, and he swore that every time he turned a corner he saw another damn music-box, but those were things he had learned to forgive over the years.

“What possessed you to make pancakes?” Bruin questioned as they threw the last pieces in the trash.

Grant quieted, biting his lip.“They’re great comfort food,” he said slowly, as if testing out the words.

Bruin tensed, suddenly hyper aware of the rumbling in his stomach. “Oh,” he said quietly, after minutes of silence, “did you have a bad night’s sleep?” The question was pointless, but Bruin felt the need to ask it anyway. If only to take away from the barking that had begun playing in his ears.

“Yeah,” Grant responded, eyeing him, “I was up working on fixing an antique box, planning to go to bed, but I think someone was begging for their life outside, which wasn’t a very nice sound to fall asleep too.”

It was an invitation, one which he pondered for a while, before finally giving his response; “I wouldn't imagine so, no.”

He looked away as Grant's ocean blue eyes filled with pity, something that hurt him as much as any gun wound. “Hey, I… uh,” Grant began, no longer looking at him, “don’t feel obligated to answer this, but, are they getting worse?”

“You should probably go and get changed. I’ll make some breakfast for us. We still have a while before work.”

Grant, bless his heart, didn’t push. Instead, he simply nodded, vanishing the sad look from his eyes. He was halfway out the door, when he turned around with a snap; “that’s what I was forgetting to tell you!” he said, “Zarifa called earlier, she wants us to come in early.”

“Really? That’s unusual.”

“My thoughts exactly. I didn’t ever find out why though, she remained all vague. Sounded a bit panicked, if I’m honest.”

Bruin nodded. “We’ll head out after you and I get changed then. I’m not really in the mood for breakfast anyway.”

“Aye aye, Bruiny,” Grant said with a mock salute, before slipping out the door and presumably into his bedroom. Bruin did the same, taking one last glance around the rustic kitchen before walking towards his own room with a newfound haste. Zarifa had always been more than lenient with the times they showed and left work, especially once she realised both Grant and Bruin had abysmal sleep quality and patterns, so something like this was not only highly unusual, but equally concerning.

He just hoped nothing too terrible had happened. ——————————————

The walk to the Office was a beautiful one, especially this time of year. They were both bundled in hats and scarves that Grant had insisted on, as golden yellows and flaming hues passed and fell around them. For all the flack they could both give Lunewell - a lack of internet service, isolation from almost everything, and navigational systems that were seemingly built by a sadist - neither could deny that living there on mornings like this was truly a magical experience.

Or would be, were it not for the unfortunate scenario.

“Oh I hope she’s alright,” Grant panted out, slightly out of breath from the speedwalking that bordered on jogging. Working in antiques was unfortunately not a field that kept one in great physical condition, and in moments like this it truly showed.

“I’m sure she’s fine,” Bruin reassured, “thinking logically, we know nothing serious has happened,” probably, “so it’s most likely something mundane, slightly ominous at best.”

Grant looked unsure at that, but didn’t say anything. Under the glasses, Bruin could practically see the well-oiled cogs turning in his head, eyes glaze as though lost in the mechanical world. It was his typical zoning out look, which was for once highly appreciated, as Bruin himself was in no mood to talk.

They walked up the path, letting the old, wooden store come into view. It seemed no different than yesterday, albeit much darker, except for, alarmingly enough, a room in the upstairs flat. They shared a questioning look, panic visible on both their faces, before speeding up and half-sprinting to the door.

With a lead ball in his stomach, Bruin realised that the door was not only unlocked, but stood slightly ajar. He shoved it further open, with an urgency but still lightly, as not to break any antiques.

Even the golden rays of autumn sun couldn’t hide the ruins of the shop. The furniture was at a slight angle, as though a lash had come whipping at the legs, the fragile glass and ceramics that had been close to shattering finally lay dead and dismembered on the floor, and most concerningly, there was an unidentifiable black liquid smelling vaguely of ozone.

“Zarifa?” Grant began calling, stepping over the mess with all the grace of a drunk octopus, “Zari? Boss? Are you in there?” Bruin followed his shouting companion, straightening the furniture as he went. They made it to the counter, still no sight of her, though that was changed as they heard a thunderclap of a sound emitting from the backroom.

They were in the employees’ lounge within seconds of the sound, greeted by the sight of an unusually casually dressed Zarifa surrounded by long walls of antiques, stacked in an organised manner. “Oh good,” she said, upon seeing them, giving them a warm smile that reached her tired eyes, “you made it.”

Bruin wasn’t so much looking at her, as staring at the large pile of antiques behind her. Some of them he recognised, like the ‘Girl in Field’ painting, or that odd statue of an old man made of clay, 200 years old, but painted in a cornflower blue pigment that could be no more than 100, though there were also surprisingly a lot of pieces he had no recollection of seeing. Zarifa, noticing his staring, looked at him apologetically; “Sorry I had to dismantle your system. I tried to keep the organisation, and I promise I’ll help sort it afterwards.”

“It’s fine. I’ll sort it myself,” he assured, not quite sure he truly trusted anyone to touch what he had sorted. Grant was a disaster on legs, and for as much as Zarifa was good at keeping schedule, she lacked the sheer efficient sorting instinct he had had since childhood. “Why is it all up here? Was there water in the basement again?”

Zarifa shook her head, before pulling a slightly splintered, old, wooden box with a golden, dust-painted leaf-engraving on top from behind one of the piles. Bruin’s eyes widened as he remembered where it had previously been, involuntarily glancing upstairs, and then back down to Zarifa. She hadn’t really… had she? No one had ever been in Valours flat, hell, no one even had the key to it.

She opened the lid cautiously, the box creaking as ancient and rusted hinges pulled back. She pulled out aged, folded paper, and slowly laid it down in Bruins hands. Though he would of course properly examine it later, he could tell it was far older than anything he was comfortable holding with his bare, gloveless hands. “It’s more sturdy than it looks,” comforted Zarifa, upon seeing his panicky stature, “go ahead, open it up.”

With a force comparable to a feather, he opened it in precise, calculated movements. He winced as he saw the handwriting, the fine, thin squiggles dating the paper to 300 years old at least, letting go of the note to the point it was barely still in his hands. He felt Grant peeking over his shoulder, and down onto the note curiously, mumbling the words as he read down the torn page.

It wasn’t a very long read, but it added tenfold to the confusion. “What seal?” Grant eventually asked, looking up at Zarifa, “this is the page blonde-pink-girl wanted, right? Why would anyone want this?”

Zaria sighed, looking at the paper with a darkness in her eyes. She looked contemplative, opening her mouth a few times to begin a sentence, before shaking her head and going back to thought. Finally, after tracing the golden part of the box a few rounds, silence echoing the room, she spoke; “We’ve all had encounters with Them before, right?”

Even with that single word, everyone in the room instantly Knew what she was talking about. It was Them that had drawn the entire group to the shop, Them that had left that hollowness that lived in all their eyes, Them that left all of them flinching at sounds and throwing hurried glances over shoulders, and most importantly, Them that created the bond they all shared.

Zarifa signed; “Take a seat, boys. This might require a bit of an explanation.”

—————- After a long, long conversation, involving the raiding of Valour’s alcohol stash for some well earned drinking, along with expensive chocolates for an alcohol-abstaining Bruin, all had finally been explained. There was a silence in the air, tinged in cheap wine and dread, as they all looked intently at the ornate box. “So,” Grant said, clasping his hands ripping away the silence like a band-aid, “we’re dealing with a big orb, monster thingy, which intentions are unknown, who kidnapped our intruder who was reading text that made vines sprout around her and smoke fill her eyes.”

“Yeah, that sums up what I experienced this morning nicely.”

Grant blinked, Bruin hurrying his mouth which had been firmly hidden deeper in his palm. “Fucking hell, I need another drink,” Grant exclaimed with a groan, reaching his hand out with his designated office mug towards Bruin.

“You guys are all out,” Bruin said with a tired voice, “besides, I don’t think alcohol is the wisest right now. I think we should try to figure out what actually happened.”

“Good idea,” Zarifa said with a nod, “we can begin with the note. Funnily enough, it’s the easiest thing here to deconstruct.” She took the box and gave it one last glance over, before rotating it away from herself and giving Grant and Bruin the opportunity to see it; “Obviously the seal is referring to the monster. I think it’s just a matter of gathering the ingredients, and whatever happened, will be reversed.”

Bruin, more than prepared, had already pulled out his black notebook and found an empty page. He looked once again at the section of the note containing the ingredients:

A key is forged by fragments of Touched sanity eating a sight of one that Sees, dipped in water oh-so divine. Once the key has begun, the fragments must sew themselves between the fabric, letting all webbed light shine on them. As they are blessed by the minute, and after the final step of-

And out of the nonsense, quickly jotted down the list of ideas that had been proposed by a slightly tipsy Grant, and an unusually frantic Zarifa;

Fragmented Touched sanity (Magic mind? Pieces of brain?) Sight of one that Sees (Some creature’s eyes obviously, maybe cow eye cult? (Most likely, Grant’s paranoia over cow eye cult, and not actually cow eye cult)) Water divine (Holy water?) Webbed light (Interconnected grids of light? Light systems?)

Jotting them down like that, was sadly, not very revealing. Partly because all their minds were still reeling, and what they had brainstormed was mostly a series of disjointed thoughts rather than a narrative, and partly because there was still so much hidden at the bottom of the riddle ocean. Bruin could still hardly find himself believing Zarifa’s situation, and had it not been for the black liquid stains he saw himself, the cryptic note, and the wobbly tone of her words as she recounted the events, he probably would have dismissed her as being driven a bit mad by paranoia.

Even now, fully aware of the fact that it was real, he was incredibly tempted to just storm out the shop, notebook in hand. Though he encountered the unearthly almost every time he was in deep slumber, he had never actually had a fully conscious encounter. And those… nightmares, visions - whatever they could be called - had left him gluing the pieces of his mind with only the instinct of survival. A real encounter would break him.

And yet, he couldn’t run. He had nowhere to go. Thorns Antique wasn’t so much a place he had chosen to stay, as a shelter he had desperately thrown himself into. Physically, yes of course he could travel or move. Marcus had been asking him if they could move in together for months, and would be more than elated to take him in. And he was sure he could put that business degree to good use.

But, though he was physically free as a dove, his mental wings were clipped. What was he supposed to do when he inevitably woke up one night in Marcus’s bed, screaming about the knife that he was convinced was lodged in his brain? How would he explain the countless of cryptic, weird, objects littered between pages upon pages of ripped-out death notices? Markus would see him as insane, and any future job he would have wouldn’t tolerate his hazy, obsessive, jumpy, and sleep-deprived state.

Though he did not personally know what their stories really were, he suspected Zarifa and Grant were stranded on the same boat of forbidden knowledge. Zarifa had no interest in history, having a passion for literature instead, and a people-pleasing nature and work ethic that could get her far, and Grant, though a bit of a clumsy idiot, was also incredibly academically bright, and a true cityguy at heart. They were an odd group, but a strongly connected one.

Or, at least somewhat connected.

“I propose we figure out what to do now,” Bruin muttered, after reading the bullet points a couple of times, “I don’t think there’s a standard protocol for situations such as these.”

Zarifa hummed in agreement, leaning against the table with a pensive look, sipping on some more wine. “I think we should prioritise figuring out what the riddle is actually saying,” she said, “and I think most of the answers lay here. There must be some connections between all this supernatural weirdness, and I’m pretty sure it lies in the antiques.”

Bruin and Grant nodded, both pulling the wildly uncomfortable chairs close to the table in a loud, squeaking drag. “As for the stuff that we can’t find the answer to,” Zarifa continued, once everyone was seated, “we can always ask for that.” She turned to Grant; “You’ve called Valour, right?”

Grant blinked, the words taking a few seconds to register, before grimacing sheepishly. “I’ll go do that afterwards, promise.” Bruin sighed, but Zarifa simply nodded. She’d always been a lot more forgiving of his scatterbrain than Bruin.

“I’ll do the same with Lottie. Assuming she’s, well, alive. She probably won’t answer, but it's worth a shot.”

“Thought Lottie didn’t give us her number?” Grant said, Bruin mirroring his confusion. Zarifa stiffened, smile dropping by a minuscule amount.

“She didn’t, but I know how to get in contact with her,” she stated, in her best assertive tone. Before Bruin could ask what she meant by that, she powered on, bulldozing in a purposeful manner. “What about you, Bruin?”

Bruin racked his mind for a good answer, recalling what needed to be done, and all the archival systems they had buried in the husk of a computer. “Every item has a corresponding ID, and a short descriptor. I wouldn’t mind taking a look at both the system and the antiques . However, we’re all out of gloves, and our magnifying glass has been broken for two months, so I’ll head to the shop first.”

While this was completely true, Bruin did leave out the little detail that it was also beyond time to see Marcus again. Through a mix of nightly hauntings, and antique mishaps, the days had somehow slipped by without them having a proper chat. He didn’t so much mind the lack of interaction, as the guilt that came with it.

“Thank you,” Zarifa said with a smile, “and, if it isn’t too much of a bother, please keep an eye out for any… unusual sights.” He nodded, her shoulders slumping down visibly, even under the thick cream turtleneck. Grant then promptly slipped out of the room to give Valour a ring with his smashed phone, and Zarifa headed out the front door and into the shop to tidy what was left of the mess, leaving him all alone.

He buried his hands into his neatly combed hair, tension deflating like a balloon as he exhaled heavily. His head was being squeezed by a thick rubber band, though whether it was the usual sleep deprivation or stress was anyone’s guess, and his eyes were droopy and heavy, as if magnets were attempting to pull them closed.

Nevertheless, he got up, pulling his winter coat and messenger bag off the chair. He left the scarf and hat where they lay, feeling they were a bit over the top considering it was only October. Slipping the black notebook into the black and purple bag, he headed out the door, and towards the outside world, heading in a general life direction he was not fully comfortable with.

[crushing-on-nico-di-angelo]

Okay, here's the actual chapter 3

7 Nights in Cabin 13

Nico took a small step backwards. “I’m sorry,” Will hesitated. “I shouldn’t have asked you, I know you probably don’t want to and--”

“Hey, woah, I never said I didn’t want to. I was just shocked. Not everyday I get asked to sleep with someone-- I- I mean… you know what I mean.”

Will giggled. “So does this mean you do want to?”

“...Yeah. I guess it does.”

Read (and maybe give kudos?) on ao3

~~~~

Lying in Nico’s bed, side by side, wasn’t as awkward as Will thought it would be. The comforter was very comforting and warm. The warmth of Nico made his heart beat faster, he hadn’t slept next to anyone since he was about seven years old having a nightmare about goats and crawled into his mami’s bed.

Nico turned to him, so Will made the necessary adjustments.

“I hope you don’t mind that I kept the window open. The light… helps.”

“I’m the son of Apollo, Neeks. I don’t mind at all.” Nico’s face softened. Will stared at his eyes, and he swore there was a universe of activity and stars in a dark brown expanse. He was lost in trying to pinpoint every constellation that he didn’t notice Nico’s hand reaching for his hair until he felt the tentative ruffle.

“Ah, sorry. I can stop if you’d like. Bianca…” Nico cleared his throat. “Bianca used to do this to me when I was having trouble sleeping.”

“Don’t stop,” Will murmured, once again feeling the effects of sleepiness. “Please.”

Nico closed his eyes and continued softly playing with Will’s hair. Will was simultaneously hyper-aware of how nice it felt to have someone play with his hair and extremely at peace, letting sleep overtake him.

<i> A wedding. Drinking gasoline. Pain in his right leg. Silence; eternal, deafening silence. </i>

When Will opened his eyes, he was acutely aware of the hand resting on his head. A bit of drool was pooled underneath his chin, but how could he move when Nico was still asleep holding his head? Nothing to do now but stay still and think.

<i> Alright Solace… I’ve been putting it off too long. How did I get here? …Nathan is how. But I don’t want to think about him. Which is fine, because I haven’t seen him in years, so I can’t exactly pin this on him. How did I get here <b> now? </b> ...I got into my head again is how.</i>

He remembers it, his relapse, but not exactly.

He was showing Clarisse how to complete an advanced archery move. He may not have been the best in comparison to his siblings, but he and Clarisse had been best friends after the Battle of Manhattan. They had gotten clean together. He had to help her with the archery.

But then. The way he positioned Clarisse’s arm. He remembered that was exactly how Fletcher positioned his. He remembered Michael doing the same for other campers. He finished teaching Clarisse the move and left to go to the showers.

He pushed the thought out of his mind-- or, he tried to. He couldn’t think of anything at all, and his breathing was getting so, so heavy. He turned on the water to hide the noises he was making, hyperventilating. They were dead, they were dead, and he <i> knew</i> they were dead. Why couldn’t he get it through that thick skull of his? He knew they were dead he saw it happen, saw the bridge collapse. But it was all he could think of, all just looping through his mind, over and over and over. No release. No end in sight to the looping thoughts. Breathing breathing breathing only not in the way he was supposed to. Suffocating on too much air and not enough oxygen.

And then the dysphoria kicked in.

His chest hurt. His chest hurt so fucking much. In addition to the binding he was doing, he was breathing so, so hard. He wanted to take the binder off, but his clothes were too wet and it was stuck. Thoughts looping, never stopping. Dead, dead, dead. Never going to be a real man. The sound of the explosion being nothing and everything to him all at once. Losing the first person to help him. Wanting so badly to hurt himself but having nothing to do so with. And then remembering what he did in the following months.

He let the water of the shower run over his soaked clothes while he focused on what he did after they died. The Hypnos cabin, they helped him forget it, but in the wake of his panic attack he remembered where he put them.

The last of his stash.

The next thing he knew, he was frantically searching for pennies with a flashlight in a camp that didn’t even use American currency-- his mind finally off his dead siblings-- at midnight outside of the Hades cabin. And thank Zeus for that.

...He was a weak person. As soon as things got tough, he went with the convenient solution. He’d always been a bad friend and a bad son because of it, and he likely always would be. Things got better for a bit, but looking at himself now? How could he ever think of himself as a good person after this, when it’s clear that he’ll always be fucking… <i>weak</i> like this….

This wasn’t something he was going to forgive himself for anytime soon. Not at all. Especially not for concerning Nico like this. He could have handled himself.

<i> Could I have handled myself?</i> he wondered. Nico shifted in his sleep, his arm now draping over Will’s shoulder. <i>Does it even matter right now? It’s too late to change it.</i>

He tried to settle into sleep again, but he found that he couldn’t. He also didn’t want to think anymore about what happened to get him here in the first place, when he could be messing around with his friends and cabin-mates while canoeing. He could be trying for the camp record on the lava wall. He could be doing a million things… but he fucked it up. Gods, he already said he didn’t want to think about it. So why was he?

He sighed softly, not wanting to disturb Nico. He snuggled into Nico’s embrace, not realizing how close they had gotten when they were asleep. His nose was nearly touching Nico’s and he noticed the faint freckles splashed over his nose and under his eyes. They were so light that you had to be inches away to notice them, but Will suspected that he would <i>only</i> notice them from now on. Just like his eyes, Will felt compelled to trace out constellations.

Will had posters and posters back in his home in Austin about stars and space exploration. He memorized constellations and had a hyperfixation on planets from ages seven to eleven. He still had all of that knowledge in his head, and it was remarkable to him how many constellations he found on Nico’s face. He pulled one of his hands from under the covers and started going over them, trying not to touch Nico’s face. He did lightly trace Nico’s nose, and was surprised when Nico didn’t even stir. He started feeling more and more relaxed, tracing what was almost the big dipper; he eventually fell asleep again with his hand cupping Neek’s cheeks.

He dreamt rough dreams, but was fortunate enough to wake up not remembering any of them.

~~~~~~

Will woke up and felt an absence of warmth. He saw Nico leaning against the doorframe, his silhouette framed by the hall light. He stood there, unmoving. Will would have wondered if he had fallen asleep again if not for the fact that he was standing fully upright. Nico knocked gently on the wood of the frame before walking away. Will wondered what that was all about but didn’t want to ask. He stood from the bed and walked to Nico’s bathroom to splash his face. He stood up and was hit with dizziness. There was a clock by Nico’s bed which read ‘8 P.M.’

“Ah,” he murmured himself. “That’s it.”

He fell asleep with Nico at around noon, which meant he hadn’t eaten in nearly 8 hours. He shivered from the cold. He grabbed a jacket hanging from the bed and walked out.

“Hey, Neeks,” Will felt a bit odd. They had been so intimate with each other earlier, he wondered if that would make things awkward between them.

“Hello, William. How’d you sleep?” Nico seemed to not mind, so Will decided to play it cool.

“Alright. I dreamt, so…”

Nico chuckled. “So not the best it could have been. I made us pot pie, it’s in the oven right now.”

“Holy shit, deathboy. You always cook so much?” Nico smiled and shook his head.

“Just felt like it lately, I suppose. It’s almost ready, grab a seat.”

~~~~~

After about an hour of eating and delirious laughter, it suddenly came to light that Nico had never played 20 questions.

“What the hell do you mean you’ve never played?” Will was incredulous. “Didn’t you used to go to boarding school?” Nico was still grinning from the laughter.

“Well, yes but I was around 10 years old! I didn’t play games like that.” Will shook his head in disbelief.

“We’re remedying that today, di Angelo.”

“How do you play?”

“I ask you a question, you answer it, and then you ask me and I answer. The cycle continues until we each ask 20 questions.”

Nico hummed to himself. “Is anything off-limits?”

Will knew what he didn’t want him to ask, but instead said, “On my end? No. Is there anything you don’t want me to ask you?”

“...I suppose not.”

“Alright. Feel free to say ‘skip’ for any question. No big deal, I’ll just ask a new one.”

“Alright. Do you go first or me?”

Will always liked to ask the same question during 20 questions. “If you had the chance to have dinner with anyone, living or dead, who would it be?”

“Hm…” Nico took a deep breath. “Does my mother count?”

Will’s breath hitched. “She-- she does,” <i> Treat it normal, Solace.</i> “She seems like she’d be a good choice. She died in the 50’s?”

“30’s, actually. Right before I was moved to the Lotus Hotel.”

“...Oh. I’m sorry, Nico.” Nico waved him off.

“It’s fine, I was little. There’s just… so much I wish I knew, you know?”

“For sure…” <i> Gods, this poor kid. </i> “Still, I’m sorry. You were just a kid.”

“Yeah, well. Anyway. My turn, right?”

Will could tell that conversation was over, so he nodded.

“What’s your tattoo?” Nico asked, to which Will smiled.

“It’s… here.” He pulled down his shirt enough for the sun to show. Nico leaned forward to get a closer look.

“It’s really pretty. I saw it on that first night after you showered. Why did you get it?”

“Lee Fletcher.”

“Lee Fletcher? Who’s that?”

And who was Lee Fletcher? Lee Fletcher was the man who meant everything to Will. He had a mom and two sisters, and no father. Lee Fletcher was the first guy in his life to act as a guardian to him. He was four years older and always acted as an older brother even before Will knew that Lee was a guy. Lee taught Will archery and how to talk to girls. Later, Lee would teach him to talk to boys. Lee was powerful and smart. He was so, so brave. He would heal people just by <i>singing</i> to them. He was everything that Will wanted to be.

After he died, Will was inconsolable. Of course, during the war he was fine. He was cool and collected: a healer, the child of Apollo. But after? He started sneaking out more, trying to escape everything and everyone. Started drinking more… that’s when he met Nathan. He knew that wasn’t the question, though. Lee Fletcher, the memory of Lee Fletcher, is what kept him going through the darkest time in his life. He owed the world to him.

“Lee Fletcher… well…”

[myelocin]

Words | Kuroo Tetsurou

So hello this is my first post and I overdid it, it was meant to be like 200 words lmao but mans had me in my feelings. 

Hope to write more! Happy reading

WC: 1.7k

Pairing: Kuroo Tetsurou x Reader

Warnings: idk about mentions of parent not present?? idk kinda made it a lil personal but it’s not angst i swear

Genre: FLUFF

-

Kuroo Tetsurou considered himself to be a man of many words. For the longest time he just knew exactly what to say. From his days as a child in his youth, he knew what words to say when he wanted to make Kenma feel motivated. He knew the exact words to string together to get his father to let him have just one more scoop of ice cream for dessert. He was wise with the things he’d say in his days as a captain to his volleyball team that did just the trick to motivate them into taking the set back or winning the game. He was smooth with words, the right sentences always stringing together at the tip of his tongue for that promotion he was aiming for. 

 He knew he was in for a ride when he was reduced into a bumbling mess the second he tried to ask for your number. His stride was confident and his intentions were clear as day.  He was going to ask how your day was doing and then ask for your number. Simple as that. So how could the Kuroo Tetsurou, the most suave man you knew give you the most heart stopping glance and utter out, “How’s your number?” 

 You looked at him and he looked at you. He held his phone out simultaneously as he said it which made the situation a little bit embarrassing, on his end at least.  

“Shit.”  Though, he somehow felt better when you laughed instead of reacting differently. He felt extremely better when you grabbed his phone and entered your number. 

“My day is going well, by the way.” You said as you handed him back his phone. By this time he had well gathered his composure before replying, “That was part of the plan, just to let you know.”

You laughed, “If that makes you feel better, let’s go with that.” He responded by grinning even wider.

-

He thought this wasn’t just the cliche situation where he found himself utterly speechless within your presence because throughout the years he had so much to say. Or just thought of, for the matter.

In the autumn of 2018 where you first moved in together he had so much to say about how this was a milestone in your relationship and that he cannot wait to spend the rest of his days laying and waking up next to you-- but he glanced at you, cheeks red from the cooler wind, one sleeve of your cardigan slipping down, and your fingers drumming against the table where you sat and decided where to put the framed picture of the both of you his words were reduced to the thought that he was home.

In quiet mornings where he’d wake up first and feel you roll over to him and bury yourself in the mass of blankets you’ve gathered throughout the night, his hand itched to write all the adjectives attributed to beautiful, but as you woke up, overgrown bangs messy from moving around, and sleepy smiles stretching against your lips, all he could feel was how warm he was.

You’d constantly ask him where his sharp tongue went. You always found it interesting how a man who could describe the most intricate details retreat in silence when it came to moments when it was just you and him. 

You were standing next to him, slicing the vegetables, as he stood next to you stirring the pot. “How come you’re not using pretty words anymore?”

He scooped a bit of the liquid, blew on it and pushed it towards you, “Taste it.” You leaned forward and sipped, “And pretty words? I still use pretty words, baby.”

“You asked me how was my number.” You deadpanned. “Also, needs more salt.”

He puffed his cheeks and grabbed the salt shaker adding a bit into the pot, “I told you that was on purpose. I wanted to win you over by humor and it worked!”

You smirked and pointed to his  gudetama apron, the one he grabbed because he was absolutely positive it was the one with the periodic table “Like how you bought that on purpose?”

“Oi.”

-

Kuroo Tetsurou swore to heaven and back that he was one smooth son of a bitch. To prove it he didn’t even write down his vows. He was sure he would find the right words to say in the moment. Also, he thought it would be nice if what you heard from him would be as unfiltered as it could get. He could only hope it was smooth too.

He saw the wedding coordinator signal him all the way from the back. He took a deep breath and fiddled with his tie. He looked around and smiled. You both had chosen well. A quaint ceremony on the shores of a quiet island, An arch of flowers in every shade of lilac, pastel yellow, and succulents with him standing at the end of the aisle. He was barefoot, tan slacks slightly rolled up for him to comfortably feel the sand.

Ah, what should I say.

He looked at the entourage slowly coming down the aisle and taking their seats. Kenma took his place as the best man and reached up to pat Kuroo’s shoulder and sent him a smile.

His heart fluttered and he sucked in a breath and looked up. The divinities must have been rejoicing with him because they painted the skies in swirls of tender crimson and soft oranges.

The fairy lights around the mass twinkled in soft yellow. The breeze felt nice.

This is it. I still don’t know what to say.

The slight woosh of the water against sand melted beautifully into the first notes of the song Words, by the Bee Gees as it began to play. An old song he knew your late mother had loved, and in turn you too.

He looked forward as you appeared at the foot of the aisle. You with your kind smile and twinkling eyes. Beautiful.

You snuck a wave at him and signaled for him to wait right there. His grin stretched further as he sent you a wink of his own. You giggled and then he was breathless.

You started walking towards him, the ends of your dress kissing the sand and locked your eyes to his golden ones.

Kuroo thought this was a déjà vu moment of some sort. All of a sudden he was back in the kitchen of the apartment the two of you shared, picture frames of the two of you finally up, and dishes put away. You had told him about the song Words by the Bee Gees and so he grabbed your hand and lead you into the middle of the room slow dancing to the song that brought you the greatest comfort. Kuroo silently watched you hum along to the lyrics and thought you were beautiful. In his mind, he was writing, and re writing over and over again the things he thought about you which was the most beautiful.  

You caught him in his trance and tapped his cheek. “Why are you so smiley, Tetsu?”

“Marry me.”

You buried yourself into his arms and hid your face into his chest. He pulled you tighter against him and continued swaying along to the music.

For a second your heart felt so full, then the next tears were blurring your eyes before sliding down your cheeks. “Where’s my ring, you weirdo?”

You could feel the echo of his laugh against chest as you felt his wet cheek press against your head. His voice sounded muffled and weird, but you felt it. You felt it even if your heart was full.

“Coming right up, baby.”

He held his breath as you finally made it in front of him. He took your hands in his. The song was still playing. Bokuto was probably the one crying and Aakashi was probably the one shushing him. Kuroo didn’t care. All he saw was you. You.

You looked up into the sky as he saw you close your eyes for a brief moment. He knew you were thinking of your mother so he squeezed your hands lightly in his. You looked at him, eyes brimming with love so unspoken yet so heard that he bit his cheek and felt the gentle sting in his eyes.

God, this is really happening. I look so uncool right now.

He always thought weddings happened fairly quickly. But since this was his first and only time standing in this position, he never thought time would slow enough for him to be hyper aware of the thoughts running through his head.

You look so beautiful. How did you pick that dress? It looks so good. Oh my God I’m gonna have children with you. I’m gonna wake up next to you for the rest of my life!!! I get to taste your cooking and give you kisses and shit in the kitchen. I have someone to come home to plus the cats. Thank you for feeding them by the way. My family loves you so much and Kenma even lets you use his league account to play. God this is insane. The flowers look so beautiful with you. This is perfect. This is amazing. This is-

“I love you.”

Your eyes widened at him, and then you smiled, “We haven’t started with the vows yet, Tetsu.”

He looked at you, as surprised as you are, then his eyes softened. “I love you.”

Kuroo Tetsurou was a man of many words, but you learned his love for you was found in the words that had been unspoken. Though it didn’t matter, because you felt it every single time. In every word that he stumbled with, every kiss to the forehead, every snarky remark that you both laugh at anyway, every good morning and goodnight, every squeeze of the hand, and every single time he looked at you.

Your eyes glazed as you looked at him. And in that miniscule, quiet moment you two shared, you let yourself look at him in your own way where he just knew you said your I love you, too.

[dontshootmespence]

Its Simplicity

Summary: After a chance meeting at a bookstore, Y/N and Spencer find themselves surprised again.

Words: 1,657

Warnings: Gross fluff.

A/N: My next entry for @cmbingo​ 2020! This fulfills my neighbors au square.

“My legs feel like lead,” Piper mumbled, following behind you with a giant moving box in her grasp.

It had to be your fifth trip up the stairs to your new second floor apartment, but it was worth it. Until you started your new job money was tight so you weren’t about to hire movers for something you and Piper could do - slowly but surely that is.

“Why didn’t you get movers?” She bitched. Her bitchy and whiney were very similar and you couldn’t help but laugh.

Backing into the door, you pushed it open and dropped the next box onto the floor before flopping onto the one piece of furniture you’d managed to get up the steps so far - the ottoman for your reading chair. “Because it’s a lot of money. I’m not rolling in it you know.”

“But I’m in pain,” she whined. “Can we at least take a break?”

You mumbled in response, though it was practically drowned out by the raucous gargling of your stomach. “Yes, we need food. Crappy Kraft?”

Somehow you managed to move your seemingly weighed down body off the ottoman and toward the kitchen, bare now, but would hopefully resemble a 50s style diner once you were finished. Dream kitchen. You grabbed a pot out of one of the boxes in the kitchen and boiled some water before pouring in a disgusting three boxes worth of Kraft Mac and Cheese. Triple bypass in no time.

“Okay, so tell me about the boy? How come you haven’t gone on another date? I feel like a matchmaker. I need details.” Piper got hyper when she talked about your dating life.

Spencer said he’d call when he could, but right after he did, he got called away on a case for work. He’d texted sporadically, but you hadn’t heard from him in half a day or so. Apparently, the case was harder to solve than he originally thought. “There’s not much to say other than what I told you about the bookstore,” you laughed. No one in the world could replace Piper, she was your one and only bestie for all of time, but occasionally you did like keeping things to yourself. “We’ve texted a few times since but he’s busy with work so he said he’d call when he gets back.”

Heavy footsteps told you someone else was coming up the stairs and Piper had left her box of your stuff outside the door. “Sorry about the box outside. Moving in! I’ll get it out of your way!”

You ran to the door while the water came to a boil only to see a familiar face. “Spencer!”

“Y/N? What are you doing here?”

An almost painful smile spread across your face. “Moving in. This is my new place.” 

Piper came running to the door, all traces of exhaustion from before gone from her face. “This is Spencer? Wait, you live here too? Oh my god, how cute is this.”

“Piper, Spencer. Spencer, this is my best friend Piper.”

“So you’re the one that peer pressured her into speed dating?”

“The one and only. I’m a matchmaker.” She glanced back and saw the water boiling. “Oh, I got this. You do your thing.”

As she ran off to prepare your shitty mac and cheese, Spencer laughed. “She reminds me of my friend Penelope. Also fancies herself a matchmaker.” A light-hearted silence fell between you for a moment before he pointed to the apartment across the hall. “That’s my place.”

“This is hysterical,” you said, almost unbelievingly. “Well, it’ll be easier for us to plan dates this way.”

“Speaking of, I just got home from a case. Would you want to grab dinner tonight?”

Piper screamed a resounding yes from the kitchen, which made you go beat red. “I would’ve said yes, too,” you laughed. “You going to rest for a little while? I can only imagine the case you had if it’s been five days.”

“I desperately need some sleep. Then I’ll read a book or two.”

“Show off.”

“Sorry,” he replied, thinking he overstepped.

You shook your head. “Spencer, I was kidding. I think it’s amazing, I’m just jealous.”

“Oh,” he chuckled nervously. “I have a hard time with social cues.”

“It’s okay. They’re annoying, I know. Maybe read The Graveyard Book so you can give it to me at dinner.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Sweet dreams, Spencer. I’m about to go eat my weight in Kraft Mac and Cheese and unpack boxes.”

He yawned and excused himself. “That sounds amazing. We should do that sometime. Eat our weight in mac and cheese.”

“It’s a date.”

                                                              ----

Later that night, after convincing Piper that she could not in fact be your third wheel, you met up with Spencer...by opening your doors. “That was easy,” you giggled. “You get a good nap?”

“I slept for four hours. It was amazing.”

He still looked a little sleepy, but much happier and more comfortable, his muscles slack and his outfit more breezy. From what you imagined, he wore suits and similar formal wear to work, but now he was wearing jeans and a t-shirt with a black blazer on top. God, he was cute. You wanted to kiss him. “So where do you want to eat? You know the food around here.”

“There’s a Thai place down the block that has some amazing pad thai. Especially if you like spice.”

“I love spice!” You replied, immediately excited.

Talking with Spencer was effortless. You could indulge your inner and outer nerd; just able to be completely and utterly yourself, which was rare. Normally, you had to put on some type of pretenses with everyone. 

At the restaurant, Spencer told you about the case, though not in too much detail, for both him and you. “I just don’t want to put those images in your head, you know?”

You nodded, handing the menus back to the waiter after placing your order. “I get that. Just know that going forward, as long as this goes forward, you don’t always have to shoulder the crap you deal with alone.”

“Thank you,” he said softly, placing his hand over yours.

The somber moment lingered for a few more seconds, but then he switched the subject, asking about your childhood and your relationships with your family. Given his genius, child prodigy status, you imagined his childhood was less idyllic than yours and he was living through you. Then you ordered pad thai that was just a little too hot for you and you both devolved into uncontrollable laughter as you fanned your mouth and begged the waiter for some milk to quench the Sahara desert on your tongue. “Some dessert might also help soothe the burn,” the waiter suggested.

“You had me at dessert, Sir,” you said unabashedly. “I’ll have the mango sticky rice.”

“Same for me,” Spencer replied. The waiter walked away, giggling under his breath about the woman who couldn’t tolerate spice. “You feeling better?” He asked. “I thought you said you love spice.”

“I do! I’m just not great with it.”

Thankfully, the mango sticky rice soothed the remainder of the burn in your throat and then Spencer picked up the bill. You asked to go half and half, but he insisted the first real date be on him and from here on out you could go Dutch. “Do you know where the phrase ‘going Dutch’ comes from?” He continued excitedly when you shook your head. “The origin of the phrase ‘to go Dutch’ is traced back to the 17th century when England and the Netherlands fought constantly over trade routes and political boundaries. The British use of the term ‘Dutch’ had a negative connotation for because the Netherlanders were said to be stingy.”

“That’s actually really interesting. You know I actually thought about going into linguistics at one point, but I loved reading as a whole too much to focus on words rather than stories as a whole.”

Spencer’s credit card was returned and you got up to leave, your fingers slipping back into his own. “I actually work with a linguist right now named Alex Blake. I think you two would get along.”

“She’s a Ph.D. too? Oh my god, please introduce me sometime. I’d love to nerd out with her.” The walk back to the apartment complex was easy and transportive, your conversation bringing you back to childhood - in its simplicity. 

You’d been up and down the stairs a million times today, so the walk up hurt you more than it did him. “My body is going to ache in the morning,” you laughed, leaning up against him outside your door. You didn’t even realize you were doing it until you pulled away. 

When you met his gaze again, you saw something different than before. “You’re gonna kiss me, aren’t you?”

Spencer smiled and leaned forward, angling your mouth toward his. Your lips touched tentatively before you moved in closer, placing your hand on the side of his neck. He pulled away, his mouth tightening into that kind of smile where you’re trying not to grin like an idiot and failing. 

“You have nice lips. Do that again.”

Some time passed, how much you weren’t sure, but you only stopped when you heard other footsteps coming your way. “So, you think you might want another date?” He asked, his voice soft and dreamy. 

“Definitely. Do you have work tomorrow?”

“As of right now, no.”

“Wanna come over tomorrow morning and do breakfast? I have to unpack a lot still, but I make killer blueberry pancakes.”

“Looking forward to it. Eight o’clock?”

“Sounds good,” you replied, swallowing hard as he pulled away to return to his own apartment. “I’ll text you if anything changes with work.”

You nodded and grabbed your keys, hearing the jingle of Spencer’s own as you both opened your doors, glancing back toward each other with simultaneous smiles.

[everykindofnerd13]

Natsu’s eyes lit up as Kageyama waved at her from the stage in her school’s auditorium. She waved back excitedly and the rest of the team turned to look at her after Kageyama’s acknowledgement.

“Hi Natsu!” Suga called and blew her a kiss. She caught it and shoved it in her jacket pocket, causing him to grin widely. She giggled and nodded as they all turned away to talk to eachother.

“You know the Karasuno team!?” One of her friends, Akita, asks from beside her and she turned to find basically everyone around her staring at her with wide eyes. She shrugged and nodded, and their mouths fell agape.

“How!?” They exclaimed and she giggled.

“Shouyo goes to Karasuno, he’s on the team!” She explained brightly, their jaws all dropped, “And Kageyama is dating Shouyo! Haven’t I told you?” She asked. They all shook their heads rapidly, still looking completely awestruck. She shrugged and turned back to the stage. Soon, all the students would watch a presentation by each of the different groups there, Karasuno Volleyball being one of them. Then they would all go up and look around at the tables to find out more if they were interested. She knew she wanted to see the Nekoma art club, and the Karasuno Drama club, but she was extra excited to go talk to her brother and his friends.

“I can’t believe you know them...” Satoshi muttered as they approached the Karasuno Volleyball table. Kageyama smiled and got up to hug her as she approached. Causing Hinata to pout as his boyfriend stole his little sister and his little sister stole his boyfriend.

“Hello Natsu!” Daichi greeted her and gave her a hug as well, along with Suga before Tanaka and Noya did their standard kneel and kiss on the hand that made her giggle, Asahi gave her a bear hug and lifted her off the floor, and then she was handed off to Tsukki and Yamaguchi. Yamaguchi hugging her and Tsukki giving her a pat on the back, before she was finally handed off to her brother who hugged her tightly. Kageyama gave her one more pat on the shoulder before she stepped back with her friends again.

“Wow, you really do know them...” Akita muttered as she stared intimidated by the 9 highschoolers.

“Indeed, hello!” Suga exclaimed, holding a hand out for her, which she took, still staring in awe. Natsu giggled and rolled her eyes.

“This is Suga, or Sugawara-San!” Natsu introduced as he shook hands with Akita and Satoshi.

“Daichi, Nishinoya, Tanaka, Asahi, Kageyama~” Natsu pointed out each player as she said their names, and sang her brother’s boyfriend’s name teasingly, “My brother Hinata, Tsukkishima, and Yamaguchi.” Natsu finishes and smiled proudly at her friends as her hair was ruffled by Nishinoya.

“Yup! That’s us! Are you guys interested in Karasuno?” Daichi asked, but Akita was busy staring dreamily at Kageyama.

“Mhm...” she muttered and Satoshi rolled his eyes.

“I am! I wanna be on the volleyball team! It’ll be all sorts of fun!” He exclaimed. The kids were still only in 3rd grade, so really this expo was more for the older middle school kids, but it was still fun. Akita nodded along as he spoke, still spellbound at Kageyama, who was beginning to get uncomfortable and fell back behind the rest of the team instead of in front next to Hinata. Akita finally snapped out of it and blushed profusely before running away to talk to some of their more casual friends. Natsu giggled as she watched her friend run away, and Satoshi rolled his eyes again before getting into a conversation with Daichi.

“What was all that about?” Hinata asked curiously and Natsu giggled again, covering her mouth.

“Akita thinks that Kageyama is extra easy on the eyes.” She explained, causing Hinata to giggle as well.

“I agree,” he answered, and Natsu fell into a laughing fit.

“What?” Kageyama asked behind the two siblings and Hinata let his giggling die down as he turned to look at his boyfriend.

“Seems that Natsu’s little friend has a crush on you Kags.” He explained and Kageyama let out a breath of a laugh.

“Oh really?” He asked and wrapped his arms around Hinata’s waist. Hinata nodded, still giggling.

“Well, too bad I’m 6 years older and in a relationship with a really cute ginger then huh?” He asked before kissing Hinata on the nose. Natsu pointed her finger down her throat and made faux gagging noises at her brother and his boyfriend.

“Nasty love birds!” She exclaimed. And Tsukkishima chuckled.

“Indeed,” he agreed and glared at them.

“They’re all awful. Really. Asahi and Noya, Suga and Daichi, but those two especially, positively the worst, we practically have to pull them apart to play.” Tanaka joked from next to them, causing Noya, Suga, and Hinata to all shoot him glares and he put his hands up in submission. Natsu giggled again, then turned to look at Toshi, who was still talking to Daichi.

“Toshi!” She exclaimed irritably. Grabbing his arm and tugging, trying to get him to go with her to the Drama club table a couple of feet away, he sighed and shot her a glance before looking back to Daichi.

“Sorry, my nagging best friend wants to go see the Drama Club table, I guess I’ll take my leave, bye!” He exclaimed. Daichi chuckled, Suga beamed, and Hinata smirked as the two walked away.

“Natsu has a crush on Satoshi.” He explained and they all nodded and “ah”ed in understanding.

“Apparently Natsu’s friend has a crush on Kageyama.” Tsukki also pointed out causing Noya, Tanaka, and Hinata to snicker. Kageyama rolled his eyes.

“Well, we all know who’s gonna be a teenage heartthrob in his future.” Suga joked and shoved Kageyama playfully. He glared at Suga and shook his hair out.

“You.” He countered, and Suga narrowed his eyes confused.

“White hair, fair skin, deep eyes, you’re practically a k-pop idol.” Kageyama explained and Hinata giggled. Suga scoffed and turned up his nose, crossing his arms.

“He’s not wrong Suga,” Hinata reasoned, “you look like all the idol boys on Natsu’s stupid dramas.” He chuckled, and Suga glared at him.

“I’m pretty sure Natsu actually had a crush on you at first.” Hinata pointed out thoughtfully as he hopped up on their table and sat down. Kageyama sat down on the stool in front of him. Daichi, Asahi, Tsukki, and Yamaguchi all averted their attention away from the conversation as someone new approached the table. Suga rolled his eyes.

“But, Kageyama has already proven to already attract both genders, of all ages, we saw that woman at the market pinching his cheeks and calling him Kawaii.”Kageyama groaned loudly and dropped his head back into Hinata’s shoulder. Hinata chuckled and started running his hands through Kageyama’s hair soothingly.

“Whatever, you’ll all be teenage heart throbs, it’s in your genes. Meanwhile, I’m over here, looking like... this.” Tanaka complained while his friends chortled. Hinata reaches out and grabbed Tanaka by the cheek.

“I dunno Naka, I think that with this baby face you’ll be attracting old ladies for eternity.” He spoke as he pinched Tanaka’s face. The older boy grumbled and shoved Hinata’s hand away as the ginger began to cackle.

“Kageyama also has baby cheeks!” Tanaka exclaimed, pointing at the other boy very obviously. Hinata laughed.

“Yes, while that may be true, Tobi is mine!” Hinata reasoned as he threw his arms around Kageyama’s shoulders and his legs around Kageyama’s middle. Kageyama chuckled and slowly started to stand off the stool, causing Hinata to grip him harder as he was lifted into the air.

“You are tiny...” One of the kids talking to Daichi and Asahi muttered staring at Hinata. Said boy looked at the middle schooler confused then looked at Kageyama, who looked at him simultaneously.

“You’re just, so short...” he explained, still staring at Hinata. Kageyama glared defensively toward the boy.

“Yes... I’m aware, believe me.” Hinata countered, while Kageyama hiked him up higher and Hinata rested his head on Tobio’s.

“What position do you play?” The kids friend asked, now also staring at Hinata surprised. Hinata sighed.

“I’m the middle blocker, I’m 5 foot 4 inches, I’m on the starting team, no I don’t have a condition, and yes I am travel sized.” Hinata explained basically on auto-pilot.

“Uh...” the original kid muttered.

“He’s a perfectly capable player, we have won many games with him and all the other players on the team,” Suga explained, incredibly defensive while also coming off as docile.

“We don’t see a point in limiting people’s abilities based on their physical attributes.” Tsukki explained, an obvious venom to his voice.

“And he wouldn’t be a starter if he couldn’t get the job done.” Kageyama finally finished. The kid nodded, clearly intimidated by the nearly robotic response from the players.

“Anyway, are you interested in Karasuno Volleyball?” Daichi asked. The kids nodded and Daichi smiled, “Okay,” he started talking to them again and Hinata shut his eyes and let himself fall asleep on Kageyama’s shoulders. Kageyama chuckled when he heard his boyfriend’s snores, he was practically always sleepy, a result of intense Hyper-fixation caused by his ADHD that kept him awake through the night. Nishinoya laughed and poked Hinata’s calf then went back to talking to Tanaka.

[wwounu]

“Okay Wonwoo, I’m leaving now.”

“Take your time Y/N, I think that’ll be better—“

“Are you saying that to kill you some time?”

“… No.” A half giggle bursts out the both of you, the smiles almost visual through the phone, “I’ve just started preparing.”

“Hm, I’ll grant you the lucky chance Mr. Jeon, I’ll walk extra slowly for you.”

“My saviour-“ Suddenly, rustling comes through the phone, hurting your ears a bit. “Minguk! Please don’t jump on my back, you’re going to get hurt!”

“I can’t wait to see ‘Guk either,” You smile, hearing the babbles and noises from the child.

“It’s strange how energetic he is. He can’t stay still…” Wonwoo whines, and you reassure him with a chuckle and a few wishes to him.

“Tell him I can’t wait to see him-“

Booming through the speaker, a boyish voice comes through. “Hi Y/N!”

“Hi Minguk.” Although you can’t see him, you make wave with your hand. “Is Uncle ‘Woo setting up the table?”

“I’m helping him!”

“Really? Wow! How manly, you’re so cool Minguk!”

Wonwoo’s voice comes back into the scene after a while, “Minguk ran away, I think he got flustered with you saying that.”

“Oh my. Well, I think that’ll be my signal to leave.”

“Look after yourself. You remember the dorm right?”

“Yes, yes I do.”

“Just making sure-“

“And Wonwoo?”

“‘Sup?”

“‘Extra slow’.”

Wonwoo’s lips tug, eyes staring down at the table markings. “Extra slow.”

And Wonwoo is the one to hang up, drumming his fingers on the table, thinking thoroughly to himself. After his small chain of thoughts, he stands up, walking to get utensils before his nephew runs and koala hugs his leg, giggling loudly at Wonwoo’s sour face.

“‘Guk, you’re so hyper, you’re going to get tired later on when Y/N comes along. Here,” He picks Minguk up — After attempts of prying him off his leg — and lets the younger hold the spoons as they set them on the table.

However, the plan goes wrong halfway through as Minguk falls into a heap of giggles, his energy boosting to its peak. He can’t stay still. He also cannot hold his affections to himself, judging by the peppering kisses all over Wonwoo’s cheek and cute actions to get the latter’s attention.

Resisting, Wonwoo shuts his eyes tight, mumbling “Goodness I didn’t ask for another Mingyu in this household… Even your names are alike…”

But Minguk kisses him on the forehead once more which gets him flustered.

When you arrive, things go smoothly.

The food is great (Wonwoo had great food choices), you had time to play with Minguk (who passed out on in the middle of Wonwoo telling the story of Rapunzel — and you too if he did not tap on your shoulder — now peacefully sleeping on the couch), and truthfully, it felt refreshing being with Wonwoo out of work, being free to talk about whatever is on your minds (especially getting lost into Wonwoo’s facial expressions when he starts to mumble).

It came to the point where you lost track of what were you talking about, and just kept a natural flow of what you were discussing, engaging and laughing at embarrassing stories.

For the most part, Wonwoo mentioned stories about his friends a lot, which was interesting in itself.

“Wait, wait hold on. So he liked her, but she couldn’t like him because she liked him?”

“If we’re not adding side stories, then yeah.”

“Oh my god. Sounds crazy.”

“You had to be there to fully understand it, it was almost like living in a drama — Miscommunication and yada yada yada…”

“Would you say it beats your story?”

“Of course not. There’s no ‘almost death’ so it’s barely there,” He jokes and you laugh along, “I mean I think the fighting story is near that level, but that was take during a legal fight.”

“Fair point—“

The door bursts open, scaring you,almost swinging violently if it wasn’t for the ironing board behind it.

“TELL YOUR SHITTY BEST FRIEND WEN JUNHUI TO FUCK OFF-“

A man stomps in, throwing his belongings across the room. By his face and tone, you can tell he clearly wasn’t happy; By Wonwoo’s face, you could tell he was used to the outburst of anger and that he’s clearly tired by it.

Clearing his throat, Wonwoo bluntly replies. “One, you’re my best friend Mingyu, not Jun — I mean he kinda is but I say he is to poke fun at you. Two, can you not?” His finger points to Minguk, followed by Mingyu’s wide eyes.

Noticing the child waking up, Mingyu jumps back. “HE’S HERE OH FUC-“

“Language!” The male’s voice shuts up by your interruption, and looks over to you with squinting eyes as your attention is drawn on the young boy waking up from his nap.

“Who the heck are you…” He tilts his hand, throwing a hand over his mouth to try and hide the smile thats growing. “Oh… OH! MY ROOMMATE WONWOO IS FINALLY GETTING IT ON! I CAN’T BELIEVE—“

Wonwoo throws a tissue roll at Mingyu and hits him perfectly on the head. Soon after, he turns to you, rubbing his eyes to relieve stress. “Ignore him. He’s sometimes like this.”

The focus adverts to the sound of crying coming from the couch. You and Wonwoo forgot he was frightened to loud noises, which Wonwoo’s roommate had a ‘speciality’ in.

“Minguk!” You acclaim simultaneously as Wonwoo says ‘Oh crap!’

He runs to Minguk and picks him up in his arms, rocking him a bit while soothing him with hushes. “It’s okay, Uncle Woo is here now, Uncle Mingyu is just a bit grumpy and needs some time to relax,” He emphasises ‘relax’, “and he’s using very boring words… We don’t like boring words, right ‘Guk?” He asks, obviously referring to the curses that fell from Mingyu’s mouth like a waterfall, receiving a sleepy nod from the little one. “Good, good… Let’s put you in my bed, where it’s quiet this time.”

Before leaving, Wonwoo mouths ‘Sorry’ to you and glares at Mingyu, walking to his room with the door slightly open when he and Minguk enter.

Sheepishly, Mingyu waddles to your destination and picks up a grape and a piece of Wonwoo’s food — at least he had manners — chewing quietly, before throwing another grape in his mouth as if he was going to say something.

“So… The weather’s nice today huh?”

OPPOSITES ATTRACT PART THIRTEEN — Intimidating!Wonwoo x Easy-Going!Reader

mingyu... goddammit man | POLL

one • two • three • four • five • six • seven • eight • eight ½ • nine • nine ½ • ten • eleven •  eleven ½ • twelve • thirteen • fourteen

masterlist

[anbuccbrow-blog]

Niall x Roman fanfic oof

So i was browsing through the shithole that I call “stupid shit folder” in the document section when I stumbled upon this… piece.

1. I’m sorry

2. I’m really not.

Yes, it’s a Pyrocynical x NFKRZ fan fiction. Old fashioned since now Niall must be probably shipped with Imallexx or some bullcrap (by the way it’s alex x atozy ...stfu that will never change)

Enjoy and maybe read with a friend during a pajama party or shit like that.

P.S. I’m leaving some side notes in Italics because they are too stupid to be missed.

“Hey, can we go to this place?” Roman took his phone and showed on google maps the place he wanted to visit.

“Here?” Niall asked confused “Ok, I guess, no problem” Roman hurried to say “Yeah, it’s kind of a wish, you know,… I mean, it’s architecture is pretty interesting and reflects the Victorian times, something that in Russia you’d hardly be able to find, so now that I got the opportunity… I’m gonna use it.”

Roman sounded convincing, didn’t he?

So, both of them went out, Niall with his hands in his pockets, back lent a little bit forward, and Roman straight with hands in pockets, too. Roman started talking about Overwatch and what games were surely going to take over it as regards gameplay resource. Niall nodded at everything Roman said and tried to continue talking about the topic with very, very vague affirmations.

Roman, on the contrary, conversed confidently and seemed to be interested. But Niall just couldn’t believe it.

Niall was suffering. Since Roman had arrived at his home, he had almost never felt comfortable. He tried to be funny with no success. He’d become so lame and worried about not fulfilling his guest’s wishes. Roman had had to invite himself to that little trip to the cemetery because Niall was tormented enough by the thought of losing Roman.

“Nice gates, huh?” Roman said, and laughed. Niall quickly glazed upon Roman’s eyes and stared back to the ground with a forced giggle.

“You sure you want to be here?” asked Roman.

“Oh” said Niall regretfully “no, I mean, yes, it’s a pleasure to bring you here, I mean, I-I-I thought it’s cool to have you here, so… yeah.”

“Do you want to take a selfie next to this gargoyle?” Roman pulled out his phone and mumbled “I’m gay”.

Niall laughed at him and in a second Roman had captured Niall’s smile.

Roman thought “that’s just enough, isn’t it”

“Place your head next to the statue’s face” Roman told Niall. Niall did so.

Seeing himself in the screen of the front camera, Niall felt embarrassed. His little chubby not defined face, next to Roman’s Nordic eyes, delicate lips and, not so manly (but for him it was manly) haircut. So he pulled his hood over his head and the only part of him that could be seen was a bit of his blond hair <yeah, saying blond is important for the ‘poetic effects’ of the story>.

“Are you serious, Niall?” Roman said in such a way you couldn’t tell whether he was angry or not.

“I’m sorry” Niall said. He just looked at the camera and smiled.

Roman took the picture. He brought his phone to himself and looked at the picture.

Oh God… Niall’s smile. Shy, gentle, kind of naughty…

He couldn’t share that. Oh hell no!

“Can I see it?” Niall tried to peek over Roman’s shoulder.

“Oh, ye - oh crap, I erased it! Well, never mind, let’s go on.”

“Come on, Roman, show it, I’m not a fool.”

“Well, I do have it but, it’s fucking gay” Roman falsely laughed and pushed Niall’s back to keep on walking.

“How could I not expect it” Niall thought “of course I seem fucking gay.” He believed Ksenia would have resembled a hippie boy next to Niall’s hyper-feminized face.

…

“Oh, I saw this passage in the Street View” said Roman “let’s go in there”

“It’s kinda spooky”

“Oh yeah, don’t worry” replied Roman.

Both turned to the right and walked into the passage, which had stone walls at the sides, covered in climbing plants.

A light came from the other side. Niall thought of telling Roman that view was good for a photograph. “By the way”, he also thought, “he hasn’t taken many pictures, has he?”

As this thoughts crossed his mind, a sudden force pushed him towards the wall. He gasped. First, one hand holding his shoulder, and the next second both of his shoulders were firmly held by Roman’s dark silhouette.

Niall’s open eyes were doing very short, but quick movements from one place to the other, first looking and the brightest side of Roman’s face, then looking at the other side.

Niall and Roman were just staring at each other. 

Roman’s frown slowly faded.

His hands know held Niall’s biceps. He caressed the jacket (not his arms, unfortunately for all of us) with his thumb.

He quickly leaned towards Niall’s face, turning his neck and jaws to his left, and kissed him.

Kissed him gently. Just posing his lips on Niall’s. They were cold and thick.

He leaned his head back to himself. And looked at Niall.

His eyes, still but quite open, looking at Roman’s hair. Roman just couldn’t help himself, and grabbed Niall by the waist, brought him near his stomach and kissed him again, know passionately. He pressed and released Niall’s waist constantly as his mouth played with the poor individual.

Roman released Niall’s mouth. But Niall wasn’t even looking at Roman anymore.

He felt dizzy. His legs didn’t support him anymore. Roman suddenly felt Niall’s weight and asked, struggling to keep him up “Niall, Niall! Are you okay?”

He sat him on the rock path and placed his head on the wall.

Roman weakly grabbed Niall’s hand.

Niall looked sick. Roman liked him anyway. His eye bags were more pronounced, he looked whiter, his mouth was a little bit open, as if he was retarded, but to Roman, that was just a supermodel.  

“Should I take you to the hospital?” Roman held tighter Niall’s hand, and with the other hand unbuttoned Niall’s jacket pocket, were Niall placed his phone.

Niall grinned with that drunk face he had. “Cyka Blyat” he laughed.

“Niall!” Roman shouted “do I call the hospital or not?”

“Y – yeah” Niall replied, surprised.

However, Niall wasn’t drunk-sick-stupid enough, not to notice that,…

Roman was worrying for him.

 CHAPTER 2.

“So, how did this happen?” asked the doctor.

“Well, I don’t know” Roman said. Niall trusted that Roman would pretend that it was out of nowhere, but Niall himself was trying to think of a not embarrassing excuse for his partial pass out.

“It was sudden? Happened out of nowhere?” said the doctor, with an intensified British unintelligible accent.

Roman looked at Niall. Niall had his eyes half closed, and was too sleepy to react and guess Roman’s silence.

“Excuse me?” Roman asked.

The doctor looked at Roman as if he was stupid and severely repeated “did… he... pass… out… or faint… out of… nowhere?”

“Oooh” Roman said “Uhmmm” he glazed at Niall’s eyes with a bit of guilt “yeah, out of nowhere”

“Sudden, you say… This unpredictable low pressure may mean serious problems, though high pressure is worse.” Roman stayed with the “high pressure is worse” affirmation, which gave him some kind of relief. “But his legs weakened,… if the low pressure came out of nowhere, there may also be flaws in the nervous system which couldn’t make the legs work correctly”.

The doctor was just making all of this up. Shivers climbed up Roman’s back. “I’ll tell Michelle to do some brain studies, convulsions may come at any second”

“Convulsions!?” Roman thought, sweating and trembling.“Uhmmm, Doctor, now that I remember” the doctor grinned, proud of him getting to make the young gentleman spit the truth “a girl kissed him out of nowhere and he became nervous. You see, Niall, I mean, yeah, him” pointing at the almost dead body “has a girlfriend” Niall felt so accidentally roasted “and this girl kisses him random and Niall’s girlfriend appears, and he became really nervous” Roman ended his sentence looking at Niall in his cute hospital dress.

The doctor turned and looked at Roman, as he finished cleaning his stethoscope. His facial expression basically transmitted an “are you serious?”, which made Roman sweat even more. Needed children could have drunk those greasy liters and liters of perspiration.

“I kissed him, and it was out of nowhere. I-I-it was just a prank, tak ili inache, I mean, anyway.” Roman scratched his face, trying to hide his red, tomato skin. Niall hid his face with his serum-wired hand.

The doctor widened his eyes, then softened his expression and said “Mmmh, that sounds more believable. And see who has woken up and moved his hand!” He said, looking at Niall compassionate and ruthless simultaneously.

…

Roman constantly glazed upon Niall to see if he was okay. It wasn’t as if he could just offer his arm and tell him “hey, take my arm” so that if he felt dizzy again he wouldn’t fall. Niall’s head was facing down. Once again, a little of his hair could be seen peeking out of his hood. Roman was just so thankful that they hadn’t told Niall’s relatives about the incident, which could have kicked him out of Niall’s house or ended up in an awkward coming out scene.

Roman looked at the other side for a second. He’d fucked up. No way he could talk to Niall again. Pyrocynical and NFKRZ… Would they collaborate again? The situations would be nerve wracking and toxic for both of them. Should they pretend they were separated by various arguments on social media? Was it possible that…

Roman was staring at the buildings of the block opposite. His lips trembled a little, and he felt very tired. Reminding himself he had a sick individual next to him, he struggled to turn his head back to Niall and make sure everything was ok…

A quick caress danced in Roman’s gloved hand, and soon his fingers were trapped by another hand. Roman’s heart bumped stronger than usual, his pupils increased, and he instantly stared at his hand held by Niall’s. A distance of 10 cm separated each other.

Roman slowly moved his sight towards Niall. Facing down he was, but now you could see his mouth, drawing a soft half grin, cheek up, and his eyelashes shined over his light blue eyes (bitch you blind??) , partially covered by his messy fringe.

Niall turned his face towards Roman. The Russian gasped (he didn’t expect such a predictable movement). Niall giggled at his friend’s reaction. And stepped near him, making their hands rustle against the sides of their thighs. He looked down again.

Roman’s feelings of relief and love were undescriptable. His cute little lesbian, almost resting on his side. Self-consciousness was absent at this point, and people looking at them were as unnoticeable as trains dashing thousands of kilometers away (they weren’t taking notice of anything, to make it short).

They walked a few blocks more. Niall smelled Roman’s sweat, felt Roman’s fingers caressing his thigh as they moved their legs, travelled Roman’s profile with his eyes and stopped at his eyes. Whenever Roman turned his head to check up on Niall, he would look down on the street tiles to avoid eye contact and blush slightly. This was when Roman looked at Niall’s hair, dancing with the wind and the rhythm of their walk, gazed upon his eyes, then his nose, mouth, chin, little mole on his cheek, and imagined his body under the jacket, trying to recreate the memories he had from the 1000 degree knife video, where Niall let see part of his torso and abdomen.

Unfortunately, Roman’s social awareness was coming back and the people staring at him, felt like being shot right in the confidence and the dignity. But he couldn’t let this opportunity go away, so he stared back at the people who looked at him with a rapey face and they just turned away.

However, the stares became more and more unbearable. Niall was just closing his eyes, resting his head on Roman’s shoulder. The Russian moved his arms away from Niall. Niall asked “what is wrong?” with childish, shiny eyes. Roman glanced over his shoulder and sighed. He thought, with a tie in his throat “это не будет работать” (this is not going to work). He sighed again, louder.

“Roman, Roman, are you alright?” Niall grabbed his face by the cheeks and made him face him. Roman exhaled with tears in his eyes…

“I can’t do it” he cried, not yet sobbing, but his jaws already tense, his eyelids strongly pressed to each other. “I’m sorry”.

Niall let go of him and stared at the opposite block.      

    “I acted compulsively” tears finally dropped out and drew little spots as they fell through the snow. “The moment was so perfect. I organized everything just to get to this moment” Roman did frenetic gestures with his hands. His face was red because of the cold and the crying.

“What am I going to do with Ksenia?” those words were a bit of a tough slap for Niall, but the Brit handled it and said optimistically “well, dump her” as he put his arms around him.

Roman glared at Niall “I-I-I can’t. I do love her, I mean, I can’t tell her this”

“But Roman, who do you love the most?”

That question *uffff* it was tough. Roman was really confused. What did his heart tell him? That heart was stupid, for sure. And his brain, what did it think about the situation? Well, you couldn’t even count with that organ of doubtful presence.

Roman looked at Niall, who soon released his hand and started walking away.

“You”

Niall turned back.

“You, I prefer you” Roman’s sobbing intensified and he ran towards Niall “I prefer you! You and only you!” shouted him as he strongly hugged Niall.

“Ello blazers, no fkez ee” sweetly pronounced Niall.

“Our love is of the Major Love Gaming” Roman whispered in Niall’s ear.

“Well, no, that’s just cringey” Niall hugged Roman tighter.

[lisatelramor]

Lay In the Atmosphere ch 3

Chapter 3 The Fall 

(This ch title brought to you by Imagine Dragons’ “The Fall” Actually all of smoke and mirrors album has a lyric or five that fits this universe more or less. I just took a few songs to use as chapter titles. Do rec listening to the album with this fic in mind ^_~ Some minor sexual content ahead folks. And of course more angst.

Kaito wasn’t sure what he was going to do about Kudo’s invitation until he was halfway back to Kudo’s home three days after the heist. He’d had a million doubts run through his mind in that time, a thousand reasons why he shouldn’t paired against a short list of why it was a good idea. When it came down to it, he just... Kaito needed something to hold onto. Human contact, feeling wanted, the illusion of affection, any of it. And most of all he needed a chance to stop thinking, and the only ways he’d ever found to make that happen were to get blackout drunk, stay awake for so long that the room spun and his entire body hurt, or have sex. Kaito’d tried the first two already. He was willing to try the last since it was up for offer with someone he had an emotional connection to.

He was down to minimal prosthetics and gel-coated fingertips to keep his identity secret as he scaled the Kudo home. Not in Kid gear, not even in stealth gear, dressed in his usual jogging gear. It felt like being stripped bare, down to just a few pieces of latex and willing blindness keeping Kudo from picking apart what he looked like. Soon, if things went the way Kaito thought they’d go, he’d be literally naked too and that... was also daunting. He took a deep breath of night air, dew damp and green with the surrounding garden. The lights were off, but when Kaito neared the master bedroom window, it was open a crack. That was practically an invitation.

The window opened soundlessly. On the sill was a glass of water, Kaito’s roses set in it at full bloom. He paused there, touched that they’d kept them. That meant something, right? But then Aoko kept the flowers he sent her every year on her birthday too. Kaito slid cat-footed into the room.

Five steps away from the bed, Kudo shifted, his unnatural ability to sense when he was watched apparently extending to his sleeping hours. Kaito froze as Kudo gave a full bodied jerk that Kaito knew too well from being abruptly startled awake by his own paranoid senses. There was a dazed moment where Kudo’s mind caught up with his body before he looked around, skimming over Kaito before catching on his shape in the dark.

“Kid?” he whispered.

Kaito stepped closer, glad for the dim light and its many shadows for the extra cover they gave his features, one more layer to pick apart to get to him. “I can come back another time,” Kaito said quietly. Of course they’d be sleeping. Had he expected them to be waiting?

“Stay,” Kudo said, reaching out. Kaito let him catch his wrist. Let him tug Kaito those last few steps forward to the bed. Kudo’s thumb brushed the soft skin of his inner wrist, hot as Kudo’s eyes glinting in the dark. Kaito shivered. “Stay,” Kudo repeated, softer.

Kaito let out a breath. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.” He let Kudo tug him closer, kneeling on the edge of the bed so they could kiss. It was just as gentle as last time and he felt as pinned in place by it as if he was caught in a net. It was easy to surrender to it. All that worrying and it melted away at first contact. This close, Kaito noticed a few faint scars on Kudo’s face from some case or another. Kudo had both the best and worst luck of anyone he knew.

“Come to bed,” Kudo said.

Kaito opened his mouth to ask where in the bed he’d fit, but there was Ran watching them, already moving to give him space between them. She was half awake, but she reached for him all the same. Kaito took her hand and between her and Kudo, he found himself pulled into warm blankets and a warmer embrace.

Ran was slightly warmer than Kudo, her lips shockingly hot against his night-cool forehead. “I wondered if you’d come,” she murmured against his hairline. She curled close, relaxed and sleepy. Behind him, Kudo did the same. It was simultaneously too much contact, claustrophobic and stifling, and not nearly enough contact at all. Too much clothing in the way, too little hands claiming his body. Ran fell back asleep quickly, but Kaito couldn’t escape the part of his brain that said it was a trap.

“Sleep,” Kudo mumbled, and okay, they were parents with a toddler who both had jobs; of course they were tired. Remembering that helped him relax.

They didn’t mind him here. It wasn’t just a whim and sex, it was...whatever this was.

Kaito was warm and the press of bodies against his didn’t feel like a trap. The touch was too gentle, the grasp too loose. The sheets smelled like Kudo and Ran, clean and intimate and calming. He closed his eyes and let himself drift.

***

Kaito woke to a press of lips on the back of his neck and a thumb tracing along the bump of his wrist in slow strokes. It felt like a dream, unreal and golden, just soft wand warm surrounding him. He couldn’t remember when he last woke to something like this. At peace and rested instead of to his brain latching onto the next dozen things that needed done. Right now, he couldn’t think of any of the things he inevitably needed to do. It was a bubble of peace that would either prove to be a dream or vanish once his mind caught up with reality.

“He’s awake,” a woman’s voice said. The thumb stroking his wrist pressed a bit harder. His arm, Kaito realized, was slung over someone’s waist. Ran, he thought.

“Good,” a male voice said behind him. Kudo. The word tickled the back of Kaito’s neck.

He was cradled between two warm bodies. Ran was in front of him, her knees tangling with Kaito’s, and Kudo was a solid presence behind him. Kudo shifted and Kaito felt him half-hard against his lower back. Breath stuttered in his chest and his eyes flew open.

“Good morning,” Ran said, smiling across the half a pillow of space between their faces. She had dawn sunlight giving her reddish-brown highlights in her hair where it fell across her face in messy waves.

“Morning,” Kaito echoed, a bit more breathlessly than intended. Ran’s lips curled up a fraction higher. “This is a nice way to wake up.”

“Is it?” Kudo said, mouth shifting to the stretch of skin where neck met shoulder. Kaito tipped his head to the side for better access, breath catching again. Just like that, he was wide awake and hyper-sensitive. The soft, wet press of lips shot through him like an electric jolt.

“Very.” Kaito licked his lips, unable to look away from Ran watching him even as most of his attention was preoccupied with Kudo at his back. “I’ll admit I expected a lot rougher treatment considering some of our chases, Meitantei.”

Kudo snorted. “What happens at heists and what happens in the bedroom are two very separate things.”

“No really? I thought they were the same.” Ran laughed and Kudo nipped at his shoulder for that. Kaito’s eyes fluttered shut. Ah. A hand on his face turning him—Ran’s face, Ran’s lips on his, pulling him in. Hand in his hair, a well-muscled thigh beneath his hand, Kudo at his back. He pressed the kiss deeper, hungry for intimacy, needing it even as it overwhelmed him.

Ran and Kudo’s hands lingered at the edge of his shirt, playing with the hem. “Is this okay?” Kudo asked, fingers brushing up Kaito’s abs in a way that would have tickled if he wasn’t turned on at the moment.

“Yes,” Kaito said. “I’m here aren’t I? Touch me, fuck me, do whatever you want—” Ran cut him off with another kiss.

“We need to know what you’re okay with,” she said when she pulled away.

Kaito made a tiny frustrated sound in his throat. He didn’t want to talk. He didn’t want time to second guess or worry or let doubts creep back up on him. What he wanted was for them to take what they wanted, to give what they could give. He wanted their attention on him until he couldn’t stand it anymore. What he said was, “I don’t want to think.” Too raw, too open, he pulled on his masks, closing off, pulling inward and he could see a flash of concern on Ran’s face—too slow. He couldn’t seem to find his balance anymore. “Nothing too painful, nothing...nothing demeaning.” He didn’t think they were the type to be into that, but you never knew. “Just touch me.”

“Okay,” Ran said, too gentle like he was something breakable and not the thief that had bothered her and her husband for years. She brushed hair back from his face, searching his eyes. “Okay. We have you.”

Her lips pressed against his again, and Kaito let her lead in this, surrendered to her willingly at least. A tug had him craning back to catch Kudo’s lips as well, the angle awkward but no less satisfying, especially how it made Kudo press his whole body against Kaito to reach. Hands slid under his shirt and he didn’t try to keep track of who touched where, just let the feeling of skin against skin build in him.

They broke apart, Kudo tugging up Kaito’s shirt and Kaito wiggled free of it and his pants while he was at it, one less layer between them and in the same level of undress as his bedfellows. He took a moment to admire Ran’s curves and the muscle that showed beneath the first glimpse of softness. Kudo had nice legs, still as strong as ever despite leaving sports behind. They looked good, looked even better beside each other and Kaito was overly conscious about his own appearance next to them.

Kaito had no illusions that he wasn’t equally attractive, and he knew he was fit, if a bit on the thin side at the moment from not taking as good of care of himself as he should, but while Kudo had a few scars here and there, one on his abdomen and a few on his arms, Kaito knew he was a mess of scar tissue in comparison. There were multiple scars around his heart, bullets hitting gems in his pocket and driving them into his chest, old bullet scars from near misses, scars from shrapnel and his own wires and razor cards and burns from pyrotechnics gone awry.

He felt Ran brush a hand against his back, an abrasive scar from a glider crash. Kudo took in the scars with sharp eyes that left Kaito feeling naked in more ways than one. Kaito didn’t let his expression show anything, just waited until Kudo moved close again and accepted the kiss when he offered it. These scars could be proof to his identity even more than his true face if Kudo chose to use that against him.

They pressed up against him, too gentle all over again, and Kaito tried to speed things up, make things rougher, but they pulled him back to their pace, not letting him hurl himself off the edge into this but pulling him there slowly, bit by aching bit. Hands on his sides, lower. Kaito let it happen, silent. Any words he had frozen in his throat. One wrong word, and this could end.

He didn’t want it to end.

It was torture, killing with kindness, but he didn’t want it to end.

A hand, Kudo’s, fumbling a condom onto Kaito from somewhere. Aching, soft, warm, pulling him in—Ran, surrounding him, holding him in her, and Kudo pressing close and hard from behind—Kaito gasped. The world was arms, bodies press, push, pull, press, push, pull, warm warm warm, kisses and gentle, half-spoken words lost between them, and Kaito was breaking, falling apart at their touch. Too much. Too much.

He felt tears in his eyes, lost in Ran’s hair, gasps and pleas he barely recognized as coming from his own throat caught in mouths that were not his own. It coiled tighter and tighter in him, almost hurting when it finally peaked, and Kudo and Ran caught him between them.

Kaito clung to them as tension left his body, sweat sticking his skin against theirs. The prosthetics felt looser on his face, the makeup on him undoubtedly smudged and lacking. A kitten’s sneeze could have crumpled him to the floor, but so long as he was caught in the circle of their arms it was okay to be weak for the moment.

Kudo reached around him, coaxing Ran into completion before following. Kaito felt the shiver of aftershocks run through him as Ran’s body gripped him tight one last time and Kudo shuddered against him. He screwed his eyes up tight as the tangle of them became a loose cuddle. He didn’t want this to end.

It had to end.

He breathed in Ran’s scent, her hair tinged with sweat and strawberry shampoo. Finger by finger, he uncurled his fists where they’d clenched into whatever he could hold onto—Ran’s hair and the bedsheets mostly. The sun was rising higher in the sky, the light less golden now. He shifted to disconnect their bodies, Ran making a soft sound at the change.

It was Kudo’s hand stroking his side, face still pressed against the back of his neck. It was Ran’s knee currently fitting itself between his legs. There wasn’t a way to leave without breaking the languid atmosphere. Regret was already starting to set in.

“I should go,” he said out loud. Some of the sleepy relaxation left them, Kudo’s hand pausing at Kaito’s hip.

“You could stay for breakfast,” Ran offered.

Kaito pictured it, sitting down at the Kudos’ breakfast table as they went about their daily routine, their daughter on Kudo’s hip as Ran prepared food for four. Either things would begin to feel awkward between them the longer he sat there, or it would feel like just another day with Kaito accepted into this domestic moment like he belonged there and no, he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t sit there if it went the latter route because it would break him all over again not to keep that. And this couldn’t last.

“I need to go,” he said instead.

Kudo shifted back to give him space and Kaito couldn’t help the small whine that came from his throat. His back felt cold. Kaito sat up and away from Ran and all of him felt cold. There were tear tracks on his face. He couldn’t hide that or how he’d reacted in their arms. He looked away, searching for where he’d tossed his clothes. They hadn’t made it far, hanging half off a chair by the window. Actually, he wasn’t sure where his underwear had gone at all... He slid on his pants without them.

On the bed, Ran sat watching him. She wasn’t saying a word to keep him, but the concern from earlier was back on her face. Kudo stood a bit to the side, unreadable and still very, very naked. Kaito couldn’t help giving him another once over. ...he’d slept with that. Wow. His face felt a bit warm. On the bed was the condom Kaito had had on, a bit of a mess on the sheets. It had fallen off when he pulled away. Leave it or don’t...? He’d probably gotten enough of his DNA scattered around the room anyway. He settled on politely throwing it away instead.

“Kid,” Kudo said as Kaito pulled on his shirt.

Kaito took a moment to pull his mess of a self together before he turned to him with a smile. “One night,” Kaito said. “That’s what I asked for. So thank you.”

“You don’t need to—”

“But it would be rude to outstay my welcome,” Kaito said, talking over whatever Kudo intended to say. Kudo scowled at him. It was such a familiar expression that Kaito’s smile felt a bit more real on his face. He opened his mouth to say more, but caught the faint sound of tiny feet on wooden floors. Kaito tilted his head. “Sounds like someone is awake.” He faked a dramatic sigh. “Ah, the spell of a moment, broken by a child. What a familiar feeling.”

Kudo’s eyebrows shot up at the implication. That, along with needing to find some sort of clothing before their daughter burst into the room, was more than enough distraction for Kaito to get the rest of his clothing on and be half out the windowsill before Kudo made one last attempt at talking. Struggling to pull on a pair of underwear that Ran threw his way, Kudo said, “This doesn’t have to be a one-time thing!”

“Hmm,” Kaito hummed, eyes following Kudo’s skin getting covered up bit by bit as a robe followed the underwear. Kudo’s hands tied the belt into a knot and Kaito shivered a bit internally, the memory of those hands on his skin recent enough he could still feel phantom touches.

“Do we look like the one night stand kind of type?” Ran asked, hands on her hips, frustration on her face making her passing resemblance to Aoko suddenly that much more noticeable. God, what was wrong with him, seeking out comfort in his and Aoko’s doppelgangers like he was living vicariously through them.

Kaito was a mess, but they didn’t know how much of one. He gave her a wan smile. “Not at all, Ran-hime.” They’d kept his flowers and they were open so full they probably would lose petals if he bumped them in the cup near his knee. They’d kept them and they’d held Kaito and let him break between them and held him until he put himself together again. No, this wasn’t a casual act on either of their parts.

Toddler hands rattled at the doorknob just out of easy reach. Kaito leaned out the window. “You’re good people,” Kaito said. And far too good for me.

After weeks of veritable stalking it was easy to drop from the window and climb out of view in a matter of seconds. He went around the side and up; they’d expect him to go down and away.

“Damn it,” Kudo said from the window.

“Well, at least we got out that he could come back,” Ran said with a sigh.

“Even when I like him he annoys the heck out of me,” Kudo grumbled. “...I don’t think he’s okay right now.”

“No... We can’t do anything unless he lets us though.”

“Hmm. I still owe him.”

“And we’ll pay him back if he ever needs it,” Ran said.

The door rattled louder, a small voice shouting, “Kaa-chan, Tou-chan! Wake up! Wake up!”

“Our daughter calls,” Kudo said with humor.

“I’ll start breakfast and coffee, you run interference.”

Kaito stopped listening as they opened the door, their daughter giving a happy shriek about something. “Owe me, hmm?” he murmured. Kudo did owe Kaito for all Kid did to help ‘Conan’ take down his dark organization. Had this been about owing? Or was that debt the reason Kudo would look away when Kaito wasn’t at a heist? It left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Somehow it wasn’t fair that this was the most rested he’d felt in a long time. Not fair at all.

***

There was a distinct, heavy rock of guilt in Kaito’s stomach. It had less to do with having sex with a married couple and everything to do with the way that sex tied into the ache in his chest as he watched Aoko walk Takumi to school. Well, no, the fact that he had wedged himself into another couple’s happily married lives was a thing that weighed on him; there was a tiny worry that doing so would ruin their relationship even though it was probably conceited to picture it. But the fact that a good part of why he’d done it was because he wanted their reality to be his own was...more than a bit depressing and concerning.

Kaito did not seek out alcohol when confronted by this thought. It was some tiny achievement, the pride of which was immediately swamped under the press of negative emotions that seemed to fill every waking moment.

Well, almost every moment. He’d taken Takumi and Shiemi to the park the other day and both children had been in a good mood and it had all been so great and normal that for a good six hours Kaito had forgotten his problems existed.

If only he could trick his mind into that state of being more often, maybe things would get easier. They’d certainly be better if he could find a way back to the optimist’s look on life. For now he’d have to settle for faking it. If he pretended long enough, maybe it would come back around again as genuine. A shell of joy over his depression.

Aoko and Takumi parted ways at the school gates, him to his class, her to work. He was old enough that he could have gotten away with walking on his own or with classmates going the same direction like Kaito did growing up. It was good that Aoko walked him though. Takumi needed her around in his life as much as possible and Aoko tried to carve as much time outside of work for him as she could.

And Kaito got what was left over. Fair was fair when he was the one to break everything apart.

“This doesn’t have to be a one-time thing,” Kudo said, but then they didn’t know what went on in Kaito’s head or what secrets he held. They’d want to know more if Kaito sought them out again. Eventually it being on Kaito’s terms wouldn’t be enough...

And yet he still wanted.

Aoko was right those times she called him selfish.

***

Adrenaline and the fierce joy that came with a successful theft sung in Kaito’s veins, Nakamori dodging his heels. Too slow, Keibu, Kaito’s inner Kid voice thought with half-mocking amusement. Kaito vaulted over stair railing to the mass of officers below—Aoko was there in them somewhere, there by the window, moving—and joined them in disguise, one more officer in Tackle-Kid.

The poor soul he’d put a Kid uniform on was mobbed instantly. It would only take a few seconds to figure out what had happened, but a few seconds were all he needed.

Kaito slipped into the shadows, going for the other set of stairs on the far side of the building now that everyone had been drawn to this side. For all that they learned, the task force held on to bad habits twice as hard, but since that worked to his advantage, Kaito was hardly going to be the one to point that out.

Upstairs, left, right, slip into a room to dodge one of the few officers still patrolling, up, up to the rooftop and the heavy winds that made his glider useless, but would be perfect in swiftly carrying away decoy balloons-turned-escape. Kaito burst onto the rooftop, breath burning in his lungs in the good way of a long run not a nightmare driven terror.

Kudo Shinichi stepped around an air unit.

The high of a good heist crashed as fast as he would if he tried to bring his glider out.

“I thought you’d come here,” Kudo said just loud enough to hear above the wind. It was dark up here, even with the lights added to the roof after years of Kid heists, dark enough that Kaito couldn’t see his expression well to gauge his mood. Body language was ready for reacting—attack or defense—weight more on one foot than the other. Kudo didn’t have the experimental gun from the other day or his sleep darts. He did have a soccer ball, which Kaito knew was as much of a weapon in Kudo’s hands—or feet rather—than any of his other preferred criminal capture methods.

“Detective,” Kaito said, Kid mask intact, “you know me so well.” Was that a blush? Ah, he hadn’t actually intended for that to be an insinuation, but he could more than roll with it. “And you went to the trouble of making this personal. I feel touched.”

“You don’t have to phrase it like that!” Kudo blustered. “This isn’t the place to—” He cut himself off, flustered and irritated.

It would have been cute if Kaito didn’t want to pretend nothing had ever happened between them. “Well, we know how this plays out,” Kaito said, all dramatics, for all appearance a walking target in white with his arms spread out. “You make threats, I make banter, you make your capture attempt, and I fly away free. How about we cut to the chase. Let me go, and I’ll give back the jewel tomorrow night, hmm?”

Kudo squared his jaw. “I can’t do that, Kid.”

Of course he couldn’t. Kaito sighed internally. He gave a theatrical bow, “Well than you can take your sho—” His hat fell off his head, a bullet hole through its top. Across from him, Kudo hissed as the shot winged his arm, miraculously missing killing either of them. Kaito’s blood froze and words died in his throat. Kudo, shot, possible shots to follow—

He dived forward, grabbing Kudo and dragging him bodily into a more sheltered position. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. Kudo injured because he was at a Kid heist because Kaito kept inviting him, because Kaito all but ensured he’d be there tonight because of course he’d want to talk, and if Kudo died this would all be on Kaito’s damn shoulders just like Jii.

“Kid?” Kudo asked through gritted teeth. He tried to pry Kaito’s hand off his good arm so he could apply pressure to his wounded one and after a belated moment, Kaito let go. Wordlessly, he pulled out a scarf for Kudo to use on his wound. “Having another sniper problem?” Kudo asked, all the clarity of someone who was used to injury in this moment. Of course. He got shot at as often as Kaito did after all.

“Something like that,” Kaito said. They weren’t after Kudo, they were after him, he just had to—

“You’re planning something stupid,” Kudo accused, catching Kaito’s elbow.

Kaito looked at him. He had a wife and daughter to go home to tonight, and Kaito knew what that face looked like caught up in passion as well as pain, joy and fury, fear and sadness and love for his wife. Kaito couldn’t let Kudo be a target like Kaito was. “Kudo-tantei,” he said, keeping his voice deceptively light, “it might be better for you to stay home for a while.”

“Kid—!” Kudo grabbed for him, but Kaito was moving and Kudo was smart enough to stay where it was safe. Good.

The balloons were out and he couldn’t go back down, but he could get down from the roof to the streets, so that’s what he did. There was at least one other shot, pinging off the metal air units right by his head as he ran past them, but they didn’t hit Kaito so that was fine, fine, get off the roof and hide.

Kaito locked away the thought that Jii had died on the ground in an alley; the ground still had better coverage than the open rooftop.

He rappelled down the side of the building so fast he got friction burns on his palms through his gloves, but he made it down without being shot. From there, there were police to dodge and hidey holes to find, and Kaito let his brain run on instinct, all his focus on finding the next place, then the next, then the next until he’d gone through four disguise changes and doubled around so many times that he’d be shaking if not for his rigid self-control.

No more bullets. No sign of being tailed. Kaito let himself sink to the ground outside some family apartment complex between bags of burnable trash. Fuck. Kudo’s pained expression, the splash of blood on his sleeve, the round hole in Kid’s hat as it rolled on the roof’s cement repeated over and over in his brain. Hat, blood, pain, hat, blood, pain, hat—Kaito shot in the back, bullet passing through his right lung—blood—Kudo just a bit to the right of where he’d stood, light leaving his eyes at the fatal shot—pain—dead, dying, a pool of blood on concrete, sprawled out body, no dignity in death, no chance to make amends, no apologies, one more object to scar someone’s psyche, alone. Kaito’s breath caught in his throat. The world went a bit sideways for a moment, too much, too bright-dark-pressing before it righted itself. His hands were bleeding red, soaking through black fabric gloves he must have put on sometime. The white ones had holes in the palms now, bits of them stuck in the raw mess of his skin. He flexed stiff fingers. The pain was distant, foggy like it belonged to someone else.

That should be alarming; usually he was constantly grounded in himself, had to be to pull off half of what he did, but even feeling alarmed was too far off to have any impact.

He flexed his hands again before shoving them into the pockets of a dark purple hoodie he’d had stashed in one of his many bolt holes. He needed to go home—where?

There was the still-half-empty apartment or the house, and the house had most of the medical supplies but the house was the last place he wanted to be these days. His feet chose the apartment before his conscious mind could decide. At some point, the storm finally broke, rain pelting down in giant icy drops that almost broke through the haziness of the world. With the rain, even sound was muted, just rushing white noise in all directions.

The key stuck in the lock. Kaito’s hands shook too hard to get it back out of the door the first two tries and it was the horror at how little control he had that finally pushed him back into the real state of the world. He felt chilled to the bone and he was shaking from the cold. His hands were a mass of throbbing pain. The key finally unstuck itself and Kaito let himself into his apartment, dripping water all over the genkan. It left a damp trail all the way to the bathroom where he stripped out of his clothes one painful movement at a time.

The warm shower water felt like needles, a shock on his icy skin, then a secondary shock on his abused hands. Kaito stayed under the spray until the shaking stopped and the water was starting to go cool again before shutting it off and grabbing the only towel he had here. He’d bought it at a discount store, not wanting anything from the house in here for reasons only his ridiculous whims knew. It was thin and a bit scratchy, not what he needed after a long day at all, but it was enough. His palms left bloody streaks on the pale blue terrycloth; moving them kept reopening the wounds.

Wrapping hand wounds was a pain in the ass, but it was hardly the first time. Work was going to be hell.

Kaito flopped back onto the bare mattress he’d set in the corner of the main room. Rain drummed against the window, a true summer storm setting in outside. Kudo had better have made it home safely... All this for a gem that probably wasn’t even what he was looking for. Dammit.

He pulled out his cell phone from the depths of his pockets, a secondary phone with references instead of proper contact names. Currently Kudo was under Sherrinford for his cell phone and Mrs. Hudson for the home line. The phone rang a half dozen times before Kudo picked up, sounding distracted and a bit wary.

“Hello?”

Kaito hung up. If Kudo could answer his phone that was proof enough that he was okay. Kaito slipped the battery out of the phone. He’d have to ditch the phone now on the off chance Kudo realized it was him and tried to trace it back. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. No one died tonight. Things would be okay.

***

Kaito didn’t return the gem to Kudo this time. Instead it showed up in the police break room with no one the wiser for how it got there (funny how a food delivery person got overlooked so easily).

The only problem Kaito had at the moment was the vague feeling of being watched.

This wasn’t the first time he’d been watched over the years; Kaito was sure that a few of his shadows suspected Kuroba Kaito of being Kid, but since Snake had died, none of them had outright attempted to make the parallel, and Kaito’s careful partitioning of his life had kept the others at bay.

This time felt different. Maybe it was that this time they’d killed Jii, confirmed some connection to Kaito’s civilian life, but he didn’t know for sure. A phone conversation with Aoko had confirmed that she was being tailed too and that had Kaito’s core filling with icy dread. The jaws of a trap a long time coming were slowly easing shut, clamping down around Kaito and his family. If he was really unlucky, they’d be closing around Kudo’s family too because he’d been stupid enough to actively seek Kudo out lately, drawing a target on him too. Only long practice kept him from panicking.  

If there was one thing he had promised himself in all of this, it was that he would never, ever let the shadows try to use his family against him. And if that meant drawing them out into the open somewhere as far away as possible...

Kaito made plans for a heist on the other side of Japan, targeted at a trio of stones connected to a Russian diplomat. They were smaller than his usual targets, the venue was a university affiliated museum that had a traveling exhibit on Japan-Russia relations in history, and it was someplace that would be easy for his shadows to get in and out of. A perfect trap for Kid, one they wouldn’t pass up. If he thought they’d bite, he’d hold one in another country.

Kaito made plans with work for a vacation day and smiled bitterly to himself. Kid was bait, had always been bait, but the longer he was Kid, the more he wondered what the trap was catching anymore. More often than not, he was the one getting hit by it than the people he was trying to catch.

Outwardly, Kaito pulled his mask on tighter, acted like nothing was wrong. That he was getting over Jii, that he wasn’t a mess inside. The scary part was that when he fully committed to the act, sometimes it was impossible to remember that he was acting until his audience left and it came crashing back down.

***

At mid-September, the city of Asahikawa in Hokkaido was moving toward autumnal chill steadily. It was Kaito’s misfortune that he’d managed to arrive during an abnormally cold spell, the temperatures dipping just a few degrees above freezing at night. Compared to the much warmer Tokyo weather, it was a bit of a slap to the face. It made as good an excuse as any to buy canned hot chocolate from a vending machine as he did his last bit of casing the scene before his heist.

The museum was tiny. If Kaito didn’t have himself immersed in news on museum exhibits across Japan, he wouldn’t have even noticed this one, a two room exhibit set up in the Tokai University’s exhibit space. His target, a set of jeweled pins, were the only gems in the entire setup, most of it taken up with replica documents, photos of historic figures, and informative placards with a few miscellaneous artifacts of Japanese and Russian origin (he could have done without the replicas of fishing equipment). As it stood, there wasn’t much for ways in or out—one door, closed rooms with a single glass wall up front near the exit. A back room with collection storage space for whoever the curator was, but no windows, no vents he could climb through. Just one small space and an academic building to figure a way out of if he was lucky enough to make it in and out of the museum space itself.

On the one hand, it was a logistical nightmare. And on the other, there was very little in security systems set up, the local police seemed to be of the opinion that the whole thing was a hoax despite the division of the Kid task force sent out here to assist them assuring that Kid had stolen stranger things than a jeweled pin.

Kaito warmed his hands on the aluminum hot chocolate can, sipping it as he watched Nakamori throw his hands up in frustration as campus security and police officers failed to meet his standards of discipline. The itch of being watched that had followed him since his last heist burned on him despite his disguise as a university student.

It could be anyone; there were plenty of people around between the school campus and the police sticking out like a sore thumb. Plus Kid enthusiasts would be in the area. There were always a few diehard fans that popped up at any announced heist location to stake out in hopes of candid photos and something new to add to fan blog sites. (Kaito followed the main ones mostly so he knew what rumors were circulating and what photos were out there. There were a few theories that brushed uncomfortably close to the truth.) Not for the first time he wished he had Kudo’s uncanny accuracy in knowing when and in what direction he was being watched from.

He drained the hot chocolate can, tossing it in a recycling bin before heading back toward his hotel. There was no chance of getting closer at the moment without catching attention. He’d infiltrated a worker earlier installing the upgraded security on the building, but that had been a close scrape with Nakamori on edge. Enough to plant a few fail-safes and distractions, and get an idea of the layout. The glass wall would be the biggest asset and weakness of the layout—easy escape but high visibility and no cover.

Kaito hated just about the entire setup.

Let this work, he thought. Let this work. He didn’t want to have to leave Japan to draw the attention away from his family. He didn’t even know if that would be enough. If he could just pull off another miracle and throw off the suspicion a bit longer...

The feeling of being watched spiked again and Kaito shuddered. This was closer. Where...? A woman in a knit hat and scarf and big, oversized sunglasses watched him from a café across the street. Who was outside at a café in this weather? She didn’t even try to hide that she was watching him. Kaito really should keep walking... He walked toward her.

There was no subtlety, no pretenses that he didn’t get that anxious feeling like his mystery stalkers gave him. The woman took a sip of her drink as Kaito slid into the seat across from her. “Pardon me,” he said in a modified voice to match his modified appearance, “but I can’t help noticing you watching. I don’t think we’ve ever met.”

“Haven’t we?” the woman said, voice familiar. She propped the sunglasses up and tugged the scarf down enough to reveal her face. Kaito gaped, Koizumi Akako being the last person he would have expected to see here and now. “You must have a very short memory, Kuroba.”

“Koizumi...san,” Kaito said.

She looked different. Shorter hair under that hat, a more angular face; mature in the somehow ageless way that movie stars seemed to have. It made her look alluring, he was sure, though there was no attraction in him toward her, and it made her feel twice as dangerous as high school. This was a Koizumi who had come into her own.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Koizumi said with a tiny chuckle. “Don’t tell me you actually forgot about me.”

Kaito pulled his expression back into order. “Of course not, Koizumi-san, it would be pretty hard to forget you.” Not with the attempts on his life and free will over the years. ...Or the occasional help. But after school, Koizumi had vanished. She hadn’t kept in touch with any of their classmates and Kaito had figured she’d just gone wherever she came from, a bit like the demonic creatures she communed with. “What are you doing here?” He didn’t bother asking how she knew it was him; she seemed to be able to tell by some supernatural means or another that he’d never really figured out.

Koizumi smiled, red-painted lips curling up at the edges and making Kaito’s paranoia kick in. “I’ve noticed you have a problem, Kuroba.”

“Everyone has problems,” Kaito said airily.

“Hmmm,” Koizumi hummed, drawing it out unnervingly. “But you do seem to have the interesting ones. Gerou,” she said with a firm tone, not addressing Kaito at all. At the other side of the street there was a sudden scuffle before the servant Kaito vaguely remembered seeing around Koizumi before stepped across the road with a man at his side. The man had a glazed expression, moving like he wasn’t quite in control of his limbs. The hairs on the back of Kaito’s neck stood on end.

“Akako-sama,” Gerou said, still holding onto the man’s arm. He bowed slightly to her and ignored Kaito altogether.

“One of your watchers,” Koizumi said, sipping daintily at her tea like this was a summer garden party instead of an intimidation tactic.

“What did you do to him?” Kaito asked.

“You know exactly what I did to him,” Koizumi said. “I’m sure you remember when I did it to you.” There, on his clothes, a piece of paper hidden in the bulk of a heavy coat. A charm of control. Kaito shivered. He still remembered the terrifying feeling of not having control of his own body. Koizumi had never said back then why she let him go. He didn’t think the man in front of him would have the same luck. “I can keep him from bothering you ever again.”

Kaito didn’t need to have a lifetime dodging traps to sense the one closing around him. He stared Koizumi down. “Why?”

“You have a problem,” Koizumi said, setting down her teacup. “And you have something I need. I propose a deal.”

Kaito glanced around them. Somehow no one was within close earshot to their table, probably another or Koizumi’s manipulations. “How do I even know that this guy is one of my watchers?” Kaito asked.

Koizumi rolled her eyes. “Gerou?”

The servant removed the charm and the man tensed, blinking out of his daze with a horrified expression. His eyes latched onto Kaito and Kaito saw his hand go for something in his pocket—a lump, a shape Kaito knew intimately as a gun by this point. The servant slapped the charm on again and the man’s expression went vague and dream-like. Terrifying. Still, that did seem to support her claims.

Kaito swallowed uncomfortably. “A deal you said?”

“Yes.” She set down her cup of tea, steepling her fingers together. Koizumi’s index fingers tapped her lips for a moment before she seemed to decide on something. “Here’s what I have to offer. To start, I have ways of getting information that others do not. These methods include how I found you today.” Kaito nodded. He had vague memories of seeing Koizumi do questionable-looking spells the few times he’d dared trying to spy on her. “I could also use these methods to help watch your back since you no longer have someone doing that.”

The fresh grief of Jii’s death stung; Kaito couldn’t have completely hidden his flinch at those words if he’d tried. “And my watcher problem?”

Koizumi’s smirk had teeth in a way that reminded him of a dog right before it snapped its jaws shut on some unsuspecting creature. “There are things I could do to take care of that too.”

“And what do you get out of it?”

“That depends.”

“Depends on what?”

Koizumi’s fingers tapped her lips again, teeth still bared in a facsimile of a smile. “On what you’re willing to pay, Kuroba.”

She seemed so sure he’d pay whatever price she stated and Kaito felt a flicker of anger. He’d never cared for Koizumi, but he didn’t like her any more for showing up out of nowhere holding vaguely threatening sounding bargains above his head.

Koizumi must have read that irritation in his posture because she changed tracks. “Look, Kuroba. You’ve had an increasingly large number of close calls at heists. In your last one, you could have easily ended up dead, or if not you, that Kudo detective could have died instead. You’ve been followed on a daily basis since then, and your family home is under surveillance. If I’m not wrong, so is Nakamori-chan, hmm? Your leads are falling through and the last person you managed to turn over to the police was dead within the hour. It looks like your infamous luck is nearing its end. But I could see your watchers and know when each escalation was coming. I could even give that luck of yours a boost.”

There was a catch, there was always a catch, like making deals with a devil. A witch couldn’t be that much better to make a trade with. But Koizumi was right and Kaito certainly was running out of ways to delay what felt inevitable. He didn’t want to die for this cause. He’d never wanted to die for it.

But there was only one thing she hadn’t included in that little sales pitch, one that he’d give a lot to make happen. “You know magic,” he said because this was fact, experienced by his own self without any other reasonable explanation for. “What would it take to erase the connection between Kaitou Kid and all things Kuroba?”

He caught a flash of triumph in her eyes. She knew she had him and Kaito would have to grit his teeth for whatever demands came if he wanted anything from her; she had the upper hand in the bargain. Still. Koizumi made a show of giving it thought. “All things Kuroba? I don’t think I could manage to erase all things Kuroba, not with how my magic doesn’t like to work on you. But if I had someone else as the focus for the spell... I know I could cut the connection from your family.”

Takumi, Kaito thought. She could use Takumi as a focus. “Would it work for all blood relation to this person?”

“The closer the relation, the stronger the effect,” Koizumi said.

So it could shield Aoko and Kaito, and maybe even Kaito’s mother and Nakamori-keibu to some extent.

“I could erase the connection to ‘Kuroba Kaito’ entirely from their perception,” Koizumi said, “though obviously I wouldn’t be able to completely erase Nakamori-chan from her connection to Kid.”

No, not while she chased Kid... “And what would this cost me?”

“A child,” Koizumi said, her smile cold.

Kaito’s emotions locked down, his face blank. “Excuse me?”

Koizumi had the gall to look annoyed at his response. “No, you idiot, I don’t mean sacrificing your son or some random child to a ritual. What sort of magic do you think I work with? I mean that my price for you is a child of your bloodline. With me.” She gave him a once over and Kaito empathized with mice getting eyed by cats. “My family has always sought to improve our bloodline each generation. What better choice that someone who is able to resist my sway?”

A child. Koizumi wanted to have his child. What the hell? All those years of her trying to bend his will to hers in high school took a very different note in his memory all of a sudden. A baby. What was he supposed to feel about something like that? It was a struggle to keep his face straight and voice even as he asked, “Why now?”

“You’re at the point where you’ll consider it,” Koizumi said. And damn it if she wasn’t right. If Kaito hadn’t lost Jii... If he wasn’t on edge from being stalked... If he was still married and happy with Aoko... Well, he wouldn’t have listened even this long. He’d have cut and run as soon as he realized it was Koizumi Akako and she wanted something from him and wouldn’t take no for an answer. “Besides,” she added with an airy wave, “I am finally at the right point in my life to consider children. I’m in my prime child bearing years with that window closing and have everything I want in my life exactly how I want it. It’s time for a child.”

Kaito felt a lurch in his stomach, a little sick as he realized he was considering it, seriously considering if cutting the ties between Kuroba and Kid were worth it. He’d always wanted nothing to do with Koizumi’s attraction to him. At least, he supposed, Koizumi wasn’t unattractive just...not the sort of woman Kaito would seek out. Her personality was what made her less attractive to him. He looked at Koizumi again and tried to picture making this deal and found his brain skipping whenever he tried to imagine going through with anything.

Koizumi narrowed her eyes. “Kuroba, I need your sperm, not your dick.”

He flinched. “Wow, you’ve gotten blunt.”

Koizumi raised one eyebrow, imperious. “I have the world ready to throw itself at my feet; I have no reason to play by social mores when it doesn’t suit me. Although...” Her toothy smirk returned. “If you’d rather seal the deal the old fashioned way, I wouldn’t object.”

“No!” Kaito said firmly. “No thank you!”

Koizumi laughed, so much more carefree than her old haughty laugh. It washed away some of the elite persona she’d been sporting since Kaito sat down. “You’re lucky I find your horror amusing instead of insulting,” she said, grinning.

“Ugh.” Yeah, he really didn’t want to sleep with Koizumi Akako, deal or no deal. (Thank god she wasn’t making that part of the stipulations.)

“So. Let me have your child and I will cut ties between ‘Kid’ and ‘Kuroba.’ And that will mean no more of this.” She waved a hand at the man still under her thrall. “At least not outside of your life as Kid. Plus one boost of luck for as long as it can hold out. I’ll even throw in being your informant for free.”

For free when it had been her original deal pitch and therefor implied as standing part of the deal. Well, Kaito could let that slide. “One condition; I get to know about the child. What their life is like, their personality, things about them. I... I’m not comfortable with the idea of having a child I know nothing about.”

Koizumi nodded, probably already having taken that possibility into consideration. “I can give you regular updates. I’ll even let you meet her eventually.”

How generous, Kaito thought wryly. Koizumi held out a hand, a Westernized symbolic sealing of the deal. Kaito took it hoping he wasn’t making a huge mistake. “Fine. I accept.”

“Wonderful,” Koizumi said with her predatory smile. “I’ll have to contact you with the details of this arrangement later.”

He didn’t really want to think about the how of it at the moment. It would be worth it to protect his family though. It had to be.

“I will need a hair or some item belonging to your son. Since he’ll be the focal point of the spell.”

“Right.” Giving Koizumi anything of Takumi’s seemed like a bad idea, but honestly it did make a certain amount of sense that she’d need it. He let his eyes stray back to the person who had been watching him earlier. The dazed expression hadn’t changed, the man still staring right through the scene in front of him. “What are you going to do with him?”

“I could turn him over to the police,” Koizumi mused, “but they wouldn’t have much to keep him on. I could have him commit a crime I suppose.”

Another chill went down Kaito’s spine. She could do that to anyone at any time. How many people had she done something like that to in order to get where she was today? There were questions he probably should put out of his mind as things he didn’t actually want to know.

“Or I could keep him...” Koizumi continued with a disturbingly thoughtful tone.

“Will he remember this conversation?” Kaito cut in.

“He’ll only remember what I want him to when I’m through,” Koizumi said.

Wonderful. Fantastic. Kaito had to leave before she decided that deal aside, she’d rather give it another shot with mind control on him. He had a heist to worry about anyway. “This has been a lovely chat, but I think it’s time I left,” Kaito said, standing up.

Koizumi sent him an amused look that said she knew exactly what was running through his mind. “Best of luck with your heist tonight, Kuroba. And word of advice, don’t try breaking the glass wall. It’s bulletproof reinforced ever since someone broke it a few years ago.”

“Well there goes half of my plans,” Kaito muttered.

Koizumi snorted. “Relax. We made a deal, correct? In a show of good faith, I can give you a bit of a boost. Consider it an advanced payment ensuring you keep your end of the bargain.”

Kaito blinked at her. Sure she’d saved him before but...

“Don’t give me that look. And don’t get complacent. I might be able to boost your luck, but that doesn’t mean you don’t need to still put in your best effort.” She tossed her head and he had the distinct memory of her doing the exact motion in high school, hair flaring out behind her. The dramatics of it were a bit lost with the hat and scarf.

“Of course.” He’d never assume otherwise. “Goodbye, Koizumi-san.”

“I’ll be in touch,” she said.

***

It was the inexperience of the local police and security guards that work in Kaito’s favor. Even with Nakamori constantly checking faces and doing rounds, it didn’t take much effort to slide into the lineup of officers. Kaito was glad that Nakamori hadn’t been able to bring his whole task force. He was glad Aoko wasn’t there. Then there was the trigger for the smoke machine, hidden up in the air vents, and everything was covered in gray haze.

Internally, Kaito winced a bit, hoping it didn’t damage the collection; he knew now how easy it was to do unintentional damage. Still, he shed his disguise with the appropriate amount of drama and held the pins up in triumph.

“Wow, Nakamori-keibu,” Kaito—Kid—drawled, watching the officers stuffed into the tiny exhibit space all but fall over themselves in reaction to his appearance. “I choose a practically closed room space and I still get in. But then there was that time with the actual safe, so I should stop being surprised.”

Nakamori leaped forward only to crumple slightly, a baffled look on his face.

Kaito smiled. “A mild paralytic in the gas,” he said. Kaito had held his breath, knowing it was coming. “Don’t worry, it will wear off in an hour or so.”

“Damn you Kid!” Nakamori growled, trying to get his limbs to react properly as he slid to the floor. Around the room, other officers were similarly shaking and finding it impossible to do more than move a few centimeters at a time.

“Ah, better luck next time, Keibu~!” Kid said, striding toward the door. The gas had been released in the hallway too, so it should mean that way was clear as well. He took three strides before pausing at some trickle of instinct. There was a sharp crack and a bullet embedded in the glass wall. Kaito traced the trajectory back to one of the local officers, steely determination in the man’s gaze as he held a gun in shaking hands. Not a local officer—or maybe not just a local officer.

Nakamori started swearing and Kaito moved as another shot rang out, cracks spider-webbing out from the impact site on the glass.

He dove for the door, glad for the glass now as it kept a third shot from hitting him.

There was another person in the hallway trying to get a gun up and aimed at him. Kaito spritzed knock-out gas in his face as he ran by. Useless in the long run as even if the would-be-killer was arrested, they always seemed to end up dead. And it technically wasn’t illegal for the officers to be shooting at him in the first place.

There weren’t any snipers waiting for him outside, no gunshots to dodge at any rate as Kaito ghosted past oblivious police officers and a couple of campus guards. Luck—or Koizumi’s brand of interference, acting on a watcher like she had on the man this morning. He shivered, doubling around and losing himself in the complexities of the campus until he exited it far from the museum, Kid’s clothing changed out for the appearance of yet another student.

He played up slight inebriation, hoping Nakamori and his men hadn’t ended up injured. He’d left them in a room with an armed gunman, paralyzed. It would weigh on his shoulders if anyone was injured, but Kaito got away. Nakamori’s attention should be awake now though, he thought. Maybe, just maybe, they’d catch some of the watchers. That was the point after all.

No sniper meant no one to lead police attention to though, so the gunmen from the heist would have to be enough.

Kaito rolled the pins in the palm of his hand, back in his hotel room and safe again. They were so small and so clearly not what he was looking for. A blind he’d only half hoped he’d get something out of. Where did Koizumi’s deal fall on this? Could he trust it? The pins stilled and he curled fingers around them. Well, he’d find out. Koizumi never turned him over to the police at any rate.

A baby.

That couldn’t be all of it, there had to be a catch. That was something else he’d have to find out...

***

Things settled. The shadows watching them vanished almost overnight—Kaito wasn’t questioning how, it probably wasn’t something he wanted to know—though they never really vanished from Kid. But that had been the deal; hide the Kuroba family involvement, not shield Kid in his entirety. Kaito had passed off Takumi’s hairs to Akako and kept up his side of the deal, uncomfortable as it was to wrap his head around. So far she was keeping her end of the bargain.

Kudo stopped coming to heists again. Takumi started asking about magic tricks again. Aoko argued with him in a harsh whisper whenever she picked up Takumi again. And Momoi was running Jii’s bar unofficially despite how she kept saying she was going to pass it off to someone else. Kaito moved into his new apartment properly, and his mother finally finally came home. She hadn’t pressed him for details on why he moved out, but then maybe she understood too well why he left. After all she’d spent most of Kaito’s teen years and beyond finding excuses not to be there at every turn.

Life wasn’t any less hollow feeling, but it wasn’t spiraling down deeper anymore either, so Kaito would take what he could get. The frantic energy filling him after Jii’s death had tapered out into weary routine and he’d just have to keep going through the motions until the smiles he pasted on his face in his day to day life were more than masks again. It was a little easier every day. Eventually he’d get there.

As life moved back toward the pattern it had been in before Jii’s death, Kaito knew he had to tie up a few loose ends.

Kudo and his wife were first among them.

The Kudo mansion hadn’t changed in the month Kaito had avoided it. The same security, the same worn paint that needed a new coating, the same piles of paper around Kudo’s desk with him frowning at some case or another in the late hours of the evening.

Ran sung their daughter to sleep in the upstairs hallway, her voice carrying through windows left open a crack for cool night air. Kaito hummed along, recognizing it as one that he used to sing to Takumi when Takumi was still an infant. It was a song about a moonlit night, appropriate for the half-moon big and bright in the sky. He let one last note hang in the night air before he slid into the study window.

Kudo, to his credit, noticed a beat after Kaito entered the room that he was there. Kaito sat on top of one of the lower bookshelves and waited patiently for Kudo’s gaze to find him. The tension in Kudo’s shoulders relaxed instantly when he realized who it was; it was a bit flattering that Kudo apparently still held some trust despite everything.

“Kid,” Kudo said.

“Hey.” Kaito gave a little wave and a tired smile. Kudo sat straighter in his chair as Kaito approached. There wasn’t any stiffness in his posture, no favoring of his arm, nor had there been while he was working; the injury from Kaito’s heist had to have healed cleanly or not been too bad to begin with.

“I thought you’d decided not to come back here,” Kudo said.

“I did,” Kaito said, letting himself be vulnerable and open. He owed Kudo that much. And Kudo had seen him far more vulnerable than this at any rate. “It didn’t seem right to just...leave things without any sort of resolution.”

“I didn’t expect to get any,” Kudo said. There wasn’t any judgment there. No anger or great sadness. A bit of regret, a bit of concern, but Kudo hadn’t been losing sleep over Kaito. Good. That was...good, even if it did make Kaito feel a little wistful. Don’t have emotions over this when you’ve already decided the path you’re taking, he reminded himself.

“It deserves some,” Kaito said finally. “I wasn’t trying to play around or be misleading with...with what happened.” Somehow he couldn’t just spit out the words and be frank about it.

“I get that,” Kudo said. “You’re a flirt, but you’re not a player. I can make some guesses about what’s going on in your life, but I don’t think you’d appreciate what I have to say.”

Kaito shivered. No, being picked apart by Kudo’s sharp mind was not anything he enjoyed. It left him feeling vulnerable and like his masks were being stripped away one by one and that was a terrible thing. “I think I’ll skip being dissected, Meitantei,” Kaito said. He took a breath and let it out slowly. Kudo was content to wait for Kaito to find his words, relaxing back into his desk chair. “Heists aren’t safe. Not for me, not to detectives that follow me on them, not for bystanders or anyone involved in them. You were injured. I regret that.”

“I’m fine now—”

Kaito held up a hand and Kudo’s words cut off. “Fine or not, you came and you were hurt. I know you face murderers all the time, but you shouldn’t have to face my shadows on top of your own.”

“Isn’t that my choice?” Kudo muttered.

Kaito frowned at him. Yes, it was Kudo’s choice. He could chase Kid if he wanted and Kaito couldn’t stop him. “You have a family,” Kaito said simply. “You don’t need one more danger on top of your daily life. And in the end, if you caught me at a heist, what would you do?”

There was no mistaking the conflict that flashed across Kudo’s face.

Kaito smiled humorlessly. “Right. You have your morals and they’re somewhat flexible, but we both know where they fall in the end. You and Ran. I genuinely like you both,” Kaito admitted, for he owed them that much, “but I have the bad habit of liking things that end badly.” Case in point; Aoko. Hell, even his persona as Kid counted to an extent. “Who this would end badly for, well. It could be me, but most of the time it’s everyone else. You have more important things to focus on.”

“...We respect you, you know that, right?” Kudo said.

The words filled Kaito with a brief warmth. Respect wasn’t love, but from someone like Kudo, respect meant a lot.

“You’re crazy,” Kudo went on with a wry twist of his lips, “But you’re also brave and caring. I’ve seen you help people when it put you in danger, and you care about the officers chasing you even though they want to destroy everything you built yourself to be.”

“For every two people I’ve saved, there’s been someone I couldn’t,” Kaito said. “For every good, someone has lost something. For every moment I care, I’ve been twice as selfish. I’m not a good person, Kudo, not by the standards of the world, and not by my own standards. I can’t give you anything concrete or real and some things aren’t meant to be taken. I can’t be anything but Kid to you, and in the end investing half of myself isn’t enough. I like you, Kudo, but I can’t trust myself to you. And I can’t trust myself to be good and not drag you deeper into my own messes if I pursued something between us.”

Kudo nodded slowly, not like he agreed, but like he understood where Kaito was coming from. “I wasn’t going to ask more than you were willing to give,” Kudo said softly.

Kaito huffed a laugh, chest tight with emotions he didn’t want to have over this. “I’ve tried giving half of myself to someone. It doesn’t work out.”

“Where does that leave us?”

Rivals? Something like friends? Almost strangers—but no, they had too much history for that. “A thief and a detective,” Kaito said finally. “A showman and his critic, no more no less.” A blank slate.

“I am sure we’ve passed that point.” Kudo shook his head. “But fine. I’ll chase you if I end up at a heist but I won’t try to look for you. Put on a show; I’ll be watching even if I’m not in the audience.”

Good. They were in agreement to go back to how things were. Kaito could live with that. He hadn’t given Kudo or Ran his heart enough for it to break by turning back. “Tell Ran I’m sorry. She’s free to try and punch me the next time we’re in the same room.”

Kudo rolled his eyes. “She’s not going to try and kill you.”

“I’d hope not. I like living.” Well, he liked being alive at any rate. Living had its ups and downs. Kaito took a step back. It was time to go.

“Kid,” Kudo said before Kaito could get more than a few steps away. “Are you going to be okay?”

Kaito debated pasting on one of his ‘sincere’ smiles and dismissed it as fast as the thought occurred. Kudo would know it was fake. Instead, he gave Kudo a smile that showed all the exhaustion in him, a smile he meant because the concern was touching, but not the smile of someone who was okay. They both knew he wasn’t, so why pretend? “I’m getting there,” he said. Kaito turned away again with a wave of his hand. “You go back to bringing people to justice, Meitantei. I can see myself out.”

“Through the window or the door?”

“The exit of choice, obviously,” Kaito said, climbing onto the windowsill. “Doors are so predictable and lackluster.”

Behind him Kudo was probably rolling his eyes at the ceiling. Kaito held in a laugh picturing it. He didn’t look back to check though. Make a clean exit, a clean break.

“Stay safe, Kudo,” Kaito said. He thought Kudo might have said something back, but he was too busy climbing to make out the words. Upstairs, Ran had tucked in their daughter and was laying out clothes for the morning on a chest at the end of the bed.

It didn’t feel right to leave her without anything.

When she walked into the bathroom to brush her teeth, Kaito took a moment to place two flowers on the bed. A striped carnation and a cluster of sweet pea blossoms, a sorry, thank you and goodbye all wrapped up together. Whether she would look up the meanings or just appreciate the flowers, it was enough. Kudo could fill in the rest.

He left before Ran could return, down the side of the house and out past the gate in the space of a few breaths.

***

Two months later, Kaito sat on a roof, post heist. It had gone smoothly—almost too smoothly considering how life had been lately. So far, the deal he made with Akako was holding. At the end of the day, that was worth the price paid he supposed. Things with Aoko were a bit less strained for the moment. They’d had a civil evening together watching Takumi in a school play. Takumi had bounced back, dragging Kaito into his latest obsessions...which unfortunately included marine life. Kaito’s time with him was a bit...stressful...because of that, and Kaito was starting to think a random activity generator would be a great way to get them to try new things and bond at the same time. And contain less fish. He wished Takumi the best with his interest, really, but he could do without the pictures.

Kaito had spent those months moving into his new apartment properly. There was a room set up for Takumi now, furniture and bookshelves in the main room, and all the daily things he needed shoved into the tiny bedroom he’d claimed for his own. The neighbor next door was an older woman, half-deaf, but very friendly. Kaito made sure to give her a smile when he came and went, and sometimes picked up an extra pastry for her on weekends. It worked out perfectly coming and going as Kid too, which was a convenient happenstance that had him sending lady luck his fervent thanks.

Keiko was still all but running Jii’s bar, and frankly he was starting to wonder if he should just hand the whole thing over to her because he certainly didn’t have the time and she could use the business. It was still too soon to say if she’d accept if he offered though.

His emotions over Jii had...settled. Not vanished or worn away exactly, but the grief was easier to tuck away now, like how he could do the same for his father. He missed Jii a ton, but it wasn’t a stab to the heart every time he thought of him. That was enough.

Kaito sighed and laid out on the cold concrete rooftop, staring up at the blank night sky. Tokyo’s light pollution made seeing the stars all but impossible; it was just the blinking lights of planes visible beside the three-quarter moon. And so the earth kept turning.

It felt like it shouldn’t sometimes.

Somewhere far below a car horn blared. It wasn’t quite enough to cover the squeaking hinges of the roof door opening. Kaito didn’t bother moving; he wasn’t in Kid regalia anymore. He could be anyone up on a rooftop staring at the sky.

The newcomer wandered closer, noticing Kaito surprisingly fast considering he was in dark clothing and there was limited lighting here. Scuffed up sneakers stopped about a meter away.

“Come here often?” they said.

Kaito finally turned his head, not all that surprised to find Kudo Shinichi standing with a neutral expression on his face. Probably wondering if he’d guessed right. “Meitantei,” Kaito said, giving him a break. Kaito had been avoiding him the last few months after all. “How’d you find me?”

“I guessed,” Kudo said. His shoulders relaxed when Kaito confirmed his identity, and a moment later he sat down on the concrete by Kaito’s side.

“Are you supposed to admit things like that?” Kaito joked, his attention focused on the detective next to him even as he turned back to watching the moon. “Doesn’t that destroy your detective mystique?”

“What mystique? I just draw conclusions from fact.”

“You put yourself in roles in your head and follow things to their conclusion,” Kaito corrected. He got a small scoff in return. They were never going to agree with each other when it came to their respective abilities. It had annoyed him once, but Kaito only felt a flicker of fondness at the moment. Kudo was still Kudo, regardless of how things had and had not changed between them. “You were looking for me?”

“I won’t be coming to heists for a while,” Kudo said.

Kaito waited because Kudo already wasn’t coming to heists, hadn’t been since he was shot at.

“Officially won’t be, I suppose,” Kudo said. “I didn’t want to seem like I dropped off the map.”

“The courtesy is touching, but unnecessary,” Kaito said. “It’s not like you have a way to look into me if I dropped off the map.”

“This is me letting you know so you won’t just pop in unannounced like you do,” Kudo said. More softly he added, “Ran’s going to have another baby.”

Kaito held very still for a moment; he hadn’t expected Kudo to have more children. Few people had more than one and both Kudo and Ran had busy lifestyles that made raising one child hard enough. “Congratulations,” Kaito said because that was the expected response for that sort of news.

Kudo waved the word away. “It was a surprise,” he said. “We weren’t trying to have more, but...” He smiled. It captured the same emotions Kaito had felt when Aoko turned out to be pregnant; a little bit overwhelmed, a little bit worried, but happy.

“Congratulations,” Kaito said again, this time with full sincerity. “You seem to be pretty good parents so far. I’m sure you’ll do fine with this one too.”

“Of course,” Kudo said. “I will be cutting back with a lot of things the next year, especially once the baby comes. It’s going to be busy for a while.”

“Babies do bring chaos.” And sleepless nights and anxiety, but also smiles and warmth and more fulfillment than Kaito had felt with anything else. Holding Takumi and knowing he was his... yeah, he knew just how Kudo had to feel. “How far along is Ran-san?”

“Around three and a half months at best guess.”

Kaito hummed, closing his eyes. Aoko’d been two months when they figured it out. That felt like a lifetime ago, but it wasn’t even ten years yet. “You’ll be missed, Kudo.” He pulled of a teasing lilt to his voice perfectly, but Kudo probably saw right through him. “I can’t believe you’re resisting the temptation to unmask me here and now though, I’m not even running away.” He looked back at Kudo just in time to catch him rolling his eyes.

“We’re not at a heist now. The most illegal thing in this moment is being on this roof at all.”

“And yet here you are.”

“Here I am,” Kudo agreed.

Kaito smiled, the quirk of lips hopefully lost in the dark. He could keep this, probably, if he wanted to. Talking with Kudo so long as it was outside of a heist. But that would mean more danger to Kudo, and if Kaito brought that danger, Kudo wouldn’t hesitate to turn Kaito in if it meant protecting his family. And Kaito wouldn’t blame him for it. No, better to leave things like this. Neutral, just shy of friendly, but not quite there. “Have a good break with your family, Kudo. Children grow up fast, so take every moment you can.” He sat up, mirrored Kudo’s posture and positioning. Kaito only had light prostheses modifying his face at the moment; they still could have been cousins, or perhaps slightly warped mirror images. “Maybe I’ll take a break too.” He should follow his own advice.

“Maybe you should.” Kudo watched him with eyes that saw too much as Kaito broke away, stretching and heading for the side of the building with the fire escape in a slow meander. Plenty of time for Kudo to figure out he was leaving. “Kid!” Kudo called after him, just loud enough to carry across the growing space between them.

Kaito paused, waiting.

“Are you going to be okay?”

He’d asked that last time too. Silly detectives caring about people they shouldn’t. A dim memory of Hakuba, hiding Connery’s glove and the way he always wanted to hear the criminal’s perspective. Kudo resolving old hurts and uncovering truths so wounds no longer festered. Aoko taking the time to learn how to say the right words to calm people down so they were less afraid or hurt or angry. They should waste less time on people like Kaito—less time worrying about his emotions at least. “Little by little, Kudo. Things get better little by little.” He flashed a grin over his shoulder. “I’m going to be fine.” He could almost believe he would be, for a certain value of fine.

Kaito disappeared into the night.

Technically that’s the end of the fic, but expect a bonus chapter with an AU of this AU sometime soon because my brain reached a point and went OK, THAT’S ENOUGH ANGST. GIMME SOME HAPPY and I bowed to its whim because I apparently can’t seem to leave this fanfic universe for some reason to the points of doing alternate timelines for it :/

[zukadiary]

ベートー勉、 an illustrated essay

I have, to be perfectly honest, been a bit down about my troupe lately. Chigi’s taidan was crushing. The unfortunate reuse of Dramatic S made Daimon’s long-awaited debut hard for me to watch. I was disappointed in both Robespierre and SUPER VOYAGER. And now the next time I see them, Daimon won’t even have the lead. I am a mopey Yukigumi fan. 

But a few days ago the gods blessed us with the airing of SkyStage College ft. Yukigumi, and it really reiterated how profoundly I adore these potatoes... specifically this chief potato, this matryoshka doll of infinite potatoes. It was deep, multi-layered, pure artistry; a rich, glittering tapestry of awkwardness; distilled, hyper-concentrated, extra-strength essence of Daimon. 

Many people think sure, she has that voice and that face, but offstage she's pretty boring. And to those people I would say

"Well, yes."

…but if they had hours to burn listening to me gush, I would say

"Well, yes… BUT!"

If you observe her closely, just below the surface she is a scintillating drama of buzzing emotions, many of them fiercely relatable.

Daimon decided to approach this special from a ridiculous angle (Carly headcanon: in a whimsical but possibly regrettable moment of inspiration to attempt something outside her usual box). She entered the theater dressed as the music teacher, Beetho Ven (PUN version, replacing the last syllable with the kanji for "study"). She was the only one in the troupe to don this level of character for the program.

We all know Daimon is blessed with magical war-ending vocal chords, but not to be overlooked in her repertoire of talents is her truly formidable ability to whip up complex, artisanal blends of Awkward. Below I've included an infographic on ridiculous characters:

And when we zoom in, we can see how flawlessly Daimon threaded herself into the barely-existent space between the two realms:

Such talent, it's awe-inspiring.

Despite that she was actually fine and not failing by a long shot, she spent the introductory portion so flustered by the uncomfortable situation she put her own damn self in that Manaharu had to shepherd her to her stage markings, and getting her attention was a challenge for everyone. Ultimately, faced with the choice of leaning into the character or abandoning it, Daimon, feeling the walls of her own mental limitations hardening themselves between her and "utterly ridiculous," gave up (same girl, same). Karen made absolutely sure the ghost of her decision would remain visible to all and haunt her throughout the remainder.

What followed was a masterful display of post-embarrassment I’M FINE, DEFLECT AND DISTRACT (a tactic with which those of us who experience anxiety are intimately familiar). A cacophony of screaming, laughing, and LOUDLY teasing her juniors:

BUT THEN, the scenery shifts. It’s very late in the Tokyo run, the troupe is staving off colds, the filming for this thing is at night, they’ve already performed that day and have two shows the next... Daimon melts visibly into exhaustion. But, in my (admittedly limited) firsthand experience, rather than shut down at a certain level of sleepiness, she enters the Witching Hour, like a middle school girl at a sleepover. It’s silly o’clock, those hardened walls dissolve, and in she goes for Round Two, this time with the appropriate amount of reckless abandon.

And this vanilla ice cream cone who would never be caught without her trusty basket of canned responses to questions is now drunk on tired, saying every dumb thing that pops into her head, and instigating the “students” until they’re so rowdy Karen-sensei and Manaharu-sensei have to yell. A precious fleeting glimpse into the calm eye of the whirlwind storm of perfectionism. Of course, she also ties for last place in the game of knowing stuff about her own troupe that she is top of. 

I am such a sucker for gap moe, and how one person manages to be simultaneously so very far above the clouds and so completely relatable never fails to both astound and slay me. I love her very deeply.

[wilma-flintstones-mother]

In Memorium of ALL that was lost 17 years ago and Also Intentionally Slotted Here This Evening Most Thoughtfully to Act as Motivational Fuel for the Fires that will Rage from Within the Very Core of the hearts and minds and conscience of the soon-to-be in Revolt citizenry of these United States of America in one Final, bloody, intense and all too necessary Shoot-em-up Stand-Off to the death against the Evil Spectres of World Domination and specifically to thwart and completely overpower them before they are able to initiate the communications, media, finances, military, government shutdown and beginning of an unspeakably brutal, inhumane, uber-violent and nightmarish new era of civil war, revolution, mass execution, starvation and instantaneously unleash mass catastrophic casualties not only to the populace but also to the environment, the animal kingdom in it’s entirety, the planned destruction of entire continents through previously un-imagined and practically instantaneous destruction of the planet’s protective ozone layer, resulting in the immediate genocide of all of Earth’s indigenous carbon-based life, it’s plentiful flora, wide variety of fauna and also contaminate what hadn’t already evaporated upon impact the small remaining amounts of precious life-sustaining water, through their perfected secret mastery of previously undiscovered directed energy weaponry that is some form of combined nuclear energy, microwave technology, anti-gravitational frequencies, pure dark anti-matter (!!!seriously!!!NO SHIT!!!), weather, climate and tectonic plate manipulated modification turned up to astronomically dangerous, unstable and very likely mass extinction level event status catastrophic disasters and result in essentially prematurely creating and ejaculating another end of the world as we know it holocaust to end all previous civilizations falls and final death knells (but this time, intentionally caused by the control-freakish political, financial, industrial and military combined governing lords over mankind itself) all inclusive planetary die-off and single, solitary jumping off and into the bottomless abyss, resulting in a.) spill over into the pan-dimensional multiverse (which WAS previously thought to have been theoretically an absolute impossibility!) into the ninth, tenth and twelfth dimensions, respectively, but simultaneously also extinguishing out every last vestige of life-force on the planet in less than a tenth of a second and managed to obliterate each and every one of us from a dimension of sight, sound and mind directly into a (imminently far, far greater than simply a mere) other dimensional plane, consisting of layer upon layer upon layer (infinitude) of vehemently dangerous couplings of essentially MATTER  and  ANTI-MATTER  coming in and back out of direct contact with one another, frequently, shockingly silently co-mingling into and between and surrounding and even bridging and exchanging protons and atoms and black matter as well as sub-atomic particles and potentially even communications, emotions, entanglements, relationships, births, deaths, momentary sharing and exchanging  one another’s very fundamental opposite identities and dimensional realities and physics, with the identifying forces of one’s positive matter actually momentarily embracing and becoming the other’s negative anti-matter in a unproven but most undeniably sexual and familiarly interpersonal most extremely noticeably peculiar and identifiable fashion of cosmic similitude and the commonly shared consciousness of which we all are, have been or one day will be a consciously living, breathing and existing extension of and only temporarily branched out from, as we and every other pattern of energy and cosmic memory perpetually re-emerge from as brand new energy patterns of a dangerously unstable and eventually formidably destructive and destroying on all levels of all layers of all dimensions and each and every one of the millions of universes, galaxies, solar systems, planets, continents, countries, cities, neighborhoods, square blocks, autonomous buildings and personal dwellings, individual living spaces with identifying names defining what activity or necessity of everyday life is executed within each specified room and it’s functional purpose, personal effects, family heirlooms, furniture, keepsakes, entertainments, elemental nourishment preparatory appliances and implements,unique individual life forms laying in bed, tossing and turning back and forth, unable to achieve sound sleep, the myriad cacophony of inner voices, fleeting thoughts, obsessions, scheduling of things to accomplish the following day, what they were going to wear, weather or not so-and-so was interested in dating them, worrying that their car might break down again and having to shell out another $500 out of their laughably inconsequential savings account, the linear dream state of human beings, as it continues to develop and move forward and shift from reality to reality and from moment to moment, never actually ceasing in it’s eternal clockworks, weather the unconscious host dreamer is currently wide awake and existing, thinking, acting and forgetting all about what they had experienced within it’s hyper-reality surrealism and meditative, curative phantasmagoria just a few hours previously when they were still fully immersed in it’s calm and collected, REM-activated trappings and grasp, and even then, the dream they had suddenly woken up from unexpectedly as their alarm clock went off at 8:30 am sharp and they ever so slowly, lackadaisically began to forget all about the wild, memourable, erotic, funny, exciting, evocative dream they had been enjoying just prior to waking up, in which they even got to hang out and experience many different kinds of abstractly disjointed variations and totally irrational and illogical combinations of being in their parent’s house/but also at Disneyland/which was also a Bob’s Big Boy Restaurant/and the hospital corridors you would endless walk through at a time when your grandmother was a patient and died there/which was also your place of employment (probably several jobs ago, the one you really liked but that you really did self-sabotage your being  able to remain at) / which also had a little hidden rumpus room on the other side of the wall from your high school cafeteria, where you and another kid you had a crush on disappeared into so you could smoke a bowl together and then engage in sloppy, failed attempt at performing oral sex upon/which also had a really cool roller coaster right outside the main entrance that you could ride for free/ that would also just so happen to make a stop halfway through just outside of your very own bedroom door/ just as you hear the voice of your little brother who died when he was 10 calling your name as if he were lost somewhere and couldn’t find his way/but that’s stupid, because I KNOW and I REMEMBER that HE DIED YEARS AGO, but I’m glad he’s home and I wonder if he’ll want to go see STAR WARS with me and Jill and Kessie later on tonight at the Rialto in South Pas, that is, if I we can find each other... I hope he doesn’t get too scared/so just as you open your bedroom door and are about to walk in/suddenly you are startled by an annoying loud buzz which you can’t comprehend at first but then you/suddenly open up your sleepy eyes and it’s your alarm clock right on buzz-killing schedule as always, and your bedroom ceiling is awash in vibrant hues of yellowish-orange morning sunlight and all of that provocative zaniness was all just a dream...as always....except you never realize it fully until you have wake up and have emerged out of it’s hypnotic and compelling desire-answering and mood-fulfilling magick theatre-isms, it’s so obvious now that that was all only a dream, even though I remember dreaming that I knew it was all just a dream, even though it always more-than suffices as an even-better alternative to waking life and this reality in lieu of living in it... and those faceless character-actor-ish phantasms who you were never privy to the common knowledge of realizing or even imagining that those people and those images of people you know and knew in real waking life actually do just continue on about within the reality and time frame and space and time curvature of which their usually entertaining, carefree, monstrous hybrid of all things, real, imaginary, past, present and future, entertainment fiction real life trauma as experienced from the top hill of a b&w animated roller coaster originally drawn way back in the late 1920′s just as it begins to spill over the rather substantial incline just as the maximum momentum and locomotion has achieved it’s hand-drawn cell-animated maximum velocity, you notice the entire back half of the train of cars is literally lifting feet above the noisy pencil-drawn wooden tracks they’re allegedly connected to, a few of the people in the last two cars even fly out of their seats at the top of the hill, safely settling back into their chosen seats on the coaster by the time it reaches the bottom of the first hill.... the Fleischer Brothers ain’t got nothin’ on the power and limitless freedom of movement, imagination, unlikelihood, a human animals natural-born connected-ness with the psychic and telekinetic energies, patterns and the Earthen natural resources of magnetism and magnitude, unyielding and unrecoverable decimation, the violently opposing layers and volumes and channels and dimensions and and conflicting reams of liquid space, psychic vibratory beings consisting of nothing but pure energy, shadow and darkness ; abject, complete and unimaginable total non-existence, sequencing which would begin the intention of their callously chickenshit and much, much too prematurely arriving at that moment to end all other moments throughout the nights of time, as they safely secure themselves and their self-importance and their loved ones, pets, favourite records, movies and books, computers and internet connectivity, porn, King James versions of the Bible, all of their very  favourite processed, GMO and cloned foodstuffs, wellspring library of alcohols, sodas, sundry recreational drugs, nibbles, snacks, more cases of bottled water than anyone has ever seen in reality EVER and aperitifs... But they also DIDN’T forget to bring along all of their unnecessary baggage and dirty laundry and bad, bad, bad, bad, and I’m talking... fucking detestable, shameful-ass as-a-mother-fucker bad-bad-ass karma (that is so sullied and so soiled and so unrecognizable as still actually being legally able to be referred to tastefully and realistically as `karma’) Oh, as well as their wealth of compassionate and trustworthy and still gainfully much, much better, handsomer and more worthy, deserving and overall just plain better than you, and all of the expected limited intelligence and tunnel vision perceptions, ever having been able to just kick the fuck back worry-free and enjoy life, goddammit, being born into old, white, American money and profitably living his life day to day, year to year, lost decade to shitty new world-ordered decade, far too privileged for far too long and all the while having succeeded in incontestably lying, deceiving, murdering, littering, poisoning, manipulating, cheating, raping, pillaging, warring, creating unnecessary tensions and divisions out of friends and neighbours, guilty by treason for a lifetime consisting of literally absolute and complete incompetency, crimes against humanity coupled with a competently inhumane disregard for any and all creatures and beings and families and communities, ever able to not just survive but perpetrate every last conceivable attribute of nihilism, misanthropy, xenophobia, sexism, conservative republicanism, needlessly controlling power freak and (just short of legally being able to qualify as tangibly having lived your life and carried out your position of power over all others) just two-steps short of having followed closely in the same footsteps as Hitler, Mussolini, the George W. Bush Dynasty and Justin Bieber himself... having acted upon on all of the very worst and lowest common denominational rhetoric, politics of never more than dirty fucking pool at it’s very lowest n-word notches and, now, safely watching the pandemonium and fiery, avalanche of unprecedented 9.4 earthquakes, tsunami that stay quite far inland wracking up even more unbelievable devastation for weeks at a time, volcanic overflows overtake the Hawaiian island which are now nothing but molten lava and bodies and beaches covered in sizzling, razor-sharp newly born land, otherwise, the rest of the whole of the planet’s surface remains awash in uncontrollable fiery flames that give any imaginings of Hell a sincere run for it’s money, all of the major continents, now broken up and in disarray and many no longer connected to any other large square mile footage of land any longer quickly become one endless, suffocating, inferno of unprecedented loss of resources, life, and destruction so thorough in it’s willful desire of finally claiming and bringing to a halt the previous relative peace, tranquility and beauty of all that had been and thrived there for so long, 200 mph winds signalling the arrival of onslaughts of level 5 hurricanes, tornadoes and the tallest, most ominous and terrifying sight of 300 foot tall rogue tidal waves approaching, one after the other after the other, wiping out any and all previous beach and harbour communities ;  scary, violent new chunks of Earth shooting up from far beneath the surface, destroying everything in it’s wake and ripping-to-shreds the very land masses underneath our feet which had been home to our beloved communities, estuaries, park lands, national monuments, farm lands. rivers, forests, family homesteads, hills and valleys ;  molten lava spewing forth robustly, shooting fiery liquid fumes into the air three miles up and then landing hundreds of miles away, volcanic rock, magma, tectonic plates, mountains, hills, valleys, grasslands, rain forests, beaches, deserts, all cities of the world finally united in one overwhelmingly epic fireball burning every last shelter, building and domicile unmercifully to the ground - As the still-believing-themselves-to-be ever-privileged, special, deserving and just higher-class one per-centers, who just minutes previously inherited the title of  and factually became THE REPRESENTATIVE ENTIRETY OF HUMAN BEINGS ALIVE ON THE PLANET EARTH (or more accurately, deep within the labyrinthine caves and tunnelled out miles and miles of underground civilized word, accommodations, diversionary things like big slides, swings, swimming pools and mineral springs, bowling alleys and skating rinks, exacting replicas of their favourite four star eateries of the previous civilized world, subterranean jungles, arboretums and gardens, a n amusement park with all of the most insane and exciting thrill rides and roller coasters anybody could ever wish for,  exacting duplicate versions (all stolen, of course) from Disneyland’s Matterhorn, Pirates of the Caribbean, the Haunted Mansion, Enchanted Tiki Room and Jungle Cruise rides (poetically, they DID have the taste and intuition to not consider also having their own water flume it’s a small world ride, too!  I mean... that was the VERY LEAST they could have NOT done!) Anyway, with them all together having drinks and a small, five-course light luncheon being served to them by their staff (they DID allow a hundred or so select few of the rest of us to survive the pandemic `natural’ wave of cataclysmic destruction that the Earth and it’s surface and it’s 99% of the rest of the civilized populace, as we knew it, had suffered) and they were all assembled in their single most comfortable, cushy, oversized and simply plush movie theatre/dinner theatre/five star restaurant/full bar and pharmaceutical store/hamburger stand/coffee house/art gallery/television stations and they all watched over CCTV which played out, mechanically filming and panning back and forth and then shifting to another CCTV location and the not-so-surprisingly total loss and unrecognizable current appearance of many previously magnificently beautiful famous and beloved locations of historical and personal significance, all of the destruction and decimation on the planets surface miles above them playing out unashamedly just as unapologetically as it had happened in the first place, for all of them to see with their own eyes the trivial, trifling, megalomaniac spoiled conservative republican, unnecessarily one-sided results of their well-planned escape and future subterranean survivalist underground civilization and continuation of the human animal (or, more accurately, of the most minutely small, inconsequential, minor, petty, self-obsessed and inbred of any and all possible cliques of individuals who might ever have possibly been the few select `lucky ones’ to have actually been the only living representatives of all human life on the planet, 99% of which had just recently been violently killed in one freakish manner due to one or another of the extinction level event cataclysmic disasters that had simultaneously murdered off the entire planet itself!  They sat in surprising silence as they interestingly took in all of the devastation they witnessed live on the very large 70mm cinerama dome-like vinyl motion picture screen and, for the very first time, I believe it may have actually been the single only time ever that a group of fascistic, right wing republican conservative born again Christians ever sat together in such an immense and comfortable entertainment center, and did not open their retarded mouths to say not one fucking snide little comment about all of those unlucky one’s above who had just perished...  I believe that even if it may just have been a trick of the light or something, that I may possibly have just witnessed a conservative republican shedding a tear or two over somebody who was neither himself, a member of his family and actually who had been one of those bleeding-heart liberal democrats who ruined our country so thoroughly and ran that shit right into the ground before we did the right thing and saw to it that they finally got WTF they deserved, those stupid fucking N-word  M*%%# F&@#%$......

[oceangl1tter]

Postpone the future

future things i'm itching to write about:// - INFP and unrequited love: name a more iconic duo - past lovers as colors of my nailpolish - sappy fiction in which i write a happy ending - how many  flowers can you stuff in your mouth before you throw up and die of indigestion - new year resolutions: TBD ————————————— First glass://

" HOUSE RULES to keep in mind 1. Do not go into any other rooms except for the restroom and my room 2. Bring enough food to be finished up or you take home whatever is left. 3. Do not open my closet/drawers lol its just my clothes tf? o.O 4. Clean up after yourself.... plS/ run to the damn restroom if u feel like yAK 5. PARTY ENDS 12AM sori pplz mama/papa gots to sleep " As a result of breaking the Golden Rule, the first of rules that had been posted in advance in our private Facebook event, we have been declaratively kicked out. R sneaks in a vomit-session before embarking on our expedition to the nearest boba place that would tolerate the ruckus from 4 hobbling pairs,2 observers, other stragglers lost on the way. It's supposedly a 40 minute walk to TenRen but time doesn't exist when you're trying to stop waddling kids from veering into oncoming traffic.The ranking of most drunk to least goes like this:

S E KC Q R MR DY A M JR, V R, JS, KG

Unfortunately, those burdened with not being shit-faced have been assigned the lovely task of cleaning up spilled drinks (a fizzy coca-cola liter erupts two times, same girl, same stumble, twice the sticky), being a branch for others to hang onto, and emotionally supporting the less-fortunate drunks. 

Breaking down the Hot Mess:

S and E pour up as if the red cups in their hands are the equivalent of shot-glasses—this measurement is obviously incredibly off and perhaps the reason why one of  them surpasses their breaking point (the other will throw up the remaining Malibu/ Smirnoff in a public trashcan in Atlantic Times Square) But for now, they're hyper, happy, laughing drunks, prancing along the host's bedroom and clinging along people in their path and tearing themselves off like pinballs.

S: Everything seems to be funny. Affectionate & eerily giggly. The next moment she's crying into the host's bed, facedown, emitting ugly sobs through convulses of her body. J is at her side telling her she can't cry into the host's bed and that she'll find someone else who will make her happy, but she has to get up first. She replies with," FUCK HIM!! I NEED HIM! HE MADE ME HAPPY!" This must've been inevitable. Don't drink in the same room with your ex. Another moment, she's pounding on the bathroom door because she has to pee. We broke the first rule. The host's mom comes out of her room later to see what the commotion is all about. She enters the room. Girl on bed, facedown, crying. Guy talking her down. R, taking a lazy nap on the side. Me, standing up with tissues stained coke-brown, red-faced, with my dumb nosering on looking into the eyes of someone that has known me since I was 10. She's on the phone and looks around the room. Concern or anger? I can't tell. I say in Cantonese that everything is fine. She is fine. I don't know how to say "she's not drunk! ! she's heartbroken" but the smell of the room betrays any statement. Kick-out ensues. 

E: This happened last time and she always proclaims the day after: "I wasn't that drunk!" The girl has lost all principles of momentum and flops on people's shoulders, anchoring her arm around necks. She drinks the same amount as S + the leftover bottle of Malibu. Her layer of introversion is gone as she lunges around the room with cup in hand. On our way to boba in the dark, she strides in zig zags with confident, imprecise steps. R runs after her. 

KC: Her original state is a high-pitched buzz of energy and it seems like alcohol multiplies that tenfold. She whacks S's left eye with her hand on accident. E whacks S's right eye with her foot on accident. She calls E fat and then apologizes. Later, she cries because she is sad. She loves everyone. She loves you. She loves her friends. She loves everyone, especially you. S, E, and KC are trio drunks. KC and I started out next to eachother drinking Calpico. I can't pinpoint when the trajectory split.

Q: She is a flirty, artificial drunk and at this point I'm over it. I saw the same thing unfold in Berkeley except with her boyfriend added into the equation. Not fun. Everyone else ignores her. She lays on the bed texting him.

R: R is a sleepy-drunk and he's knocked out first. I'm not sure how he was able to sleep through the loud singing of the national anthem and random indian music someone put on. I tell wide-eyed observers that this is signs of an alcoholic in the making. He pets S's hair as she cries into neatly folded blankets. On our way to boba I've been tasked with handling his inhibition. I am his crutch for the first half. The second half he is pushing me in an abandoned shopping cart and topples it over a bump in the sidewalk. My backpack, thankfully, protects my head from cracking open like an egg. Later on he grips my balled up hand and tries to unfold my fingers forcefully as if he could peel them out of the curled fist position. His hands feel like demands instead of sheepish drunk maneuvers. They don't feel sweaty but they're not warm either. We can't do this. I am shaking my head and curling my mid-sentences up as if I were scolding some dog. I don't let anyone hold my hand! Not even my mom! I say matter-of-factly. After wrestling it for a few moments he gives up.

New Years pt.1 / 11-12:// —————— J KM A S Q D KC R MR KG

New Years I had decided that I was sick of cleaning up after sick people and decided that it was up to me to be the agent of my own shitface-ness.  I arrive an hour before countdown. Early enough to not be missing out on the fun but late enough to have enough of it. I hadn't gone to this point before of not being able to coordinate the joints in my legs and how they are supposed to move together. I feel like a mannequin moving the different wooden blocks of my body. My cruise through the living room is stop-motion movement at 6 frames per second. I ask KG if that means I have meningitis and if that means I will die because I heard from my sister some girl when she was in highschool shared drinks, caught some virus and forgot how to walk afterwards. I took the shots and I also took shots, so do these shots cancel out?? My heart is beating so fast? Will I die? These are fleeting worries as I engage in a heavily regulated sequence of sitting on the floor, mulling on my phone, and sashaying across MR's house to the beat of the music with a cup of water and Soju in my hands for optimal simultaneous intake. I love MR's floor. I could have a ball in here. Loopy thoughts in my head spill out of my drink. I love that drunk words and actions never mean anything. I'm seated next to D in the kitchen under dim lights when I blurt out that I hate f***ots. I'm laughing and laughing and Laughing and Sipping on my Cup. D laughs along in shock and tells me to stop. I lazily say I must be projecting.

Some in-betweeners: (11) I stop KP and KC from having their New Years Kiss because we are NOT changing teams right now while drunk and/or heartbroken and I slice their SIN with my hands. Checkmate, athiests. 

(11 1/2) 

(12) J envelopes me in a big bear hug he has a knack for doing and I don't understand why he is hugging me when he does not even know me. I'm being consoled as I empty my lungs in gasping heaves. I've been made physically immobile at this point and I don't feel like squeaming out from this embrace like I would usually do. It's more of a crumple. D hovers over us. Sons! Sneezed out of her nose! We do a family hug. It's a comforting one. I shake hands with J in a marriage pact that if in 40 years we still haven't found The One we would just call it a day and get married. D wants to join in, but I tell him I'm not down for threesomes. Letalone incestuous ones. I don't think it will happen but in case it does, it wouldn't hurt to fall back on history. 

He tells me a few more things:

The money he spent, the Blitzcrank plush that he ordered that never came in the mail and was too shy to ask for a replacement.

The middle school cringey rejection song sent to him played on repeat as he ran laps to get swol to win the hearts of others and move on https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W9A52UWmmrE ; The cliche line about learning to love yourself before you love someone else and his backburner recognition that the song I sent that apparently "changed his life" like a cop-out of some manic pixie dream girl concept, might not have been for him. Bingo.

The $5 bill he snuck under one of my frontyard rocks because he thought I was broke. He asks if I ever got it. No I did not, but thanks.

My tumblr he tried to find and couldn't; the one Samantha told him I had but wouldn't give him unless they went out together.

(1) Later that night I'm limping J back to his house as he spits out foams of champagne out of his mouth. M kicks him out of his house because he's done with his shit that he dumps on others—shit that he brought about himself. (2)   (3) (4) —————————————————————————————————-

[hangonimevolving]

Camp NOLA

In accordance with a family tradition that appears to have formed over the last 3-4 years, I took the kids on our annual weeklong trip to my beloved hometown of New Orleans last week.  The last few years, I’ve found myself running there every 2nd week of August, in that summertime Black Hole period between the end of the kids’ school-based summer camp, and the start of the new school year.  A week at Ajima and Thatha’s house has become its own little summer camp to our crew: Camp NOLA :)  

This year, I’d be flying there on my own with the two kids, while Dr. Spouse stayed back to complete an on-call week before flying out for the second weekend.  My first experience flying solo with the crazies was on our first official Camp NOLA week in 2015, which I blogged about here - that time we traveled earlier in the summer, between the school year’s end and the start of summer camp.  But same basic idea.  Anyway, since that first brave voyage, I’ve traveled a shitload of times with both kids on my own, and I like to think I’m kind of an old pro at it by now.  It’s gotten significantly easier, in many ways, now that both kids are independently mobile and fairly reliable walking and holding hands in crowded airports, managing security checks expertly, and all that - just earlier this year, we started traveling without a stroller, and it was like the heavens parted and rays of light streamed down around me from the heavens.  Oh, to have the freedom to breeze through security without having to disassemble a stroller and manage all the stuff, only to put it all back together on the other side of the metal detector!  To skip, hop, and sashay directly into the aircraft from the jet bridge, without having to unstrap the kids, bark at them to stand aside so other people can pass while I sweat and heave and disassemble the thing for the cargo hold!  Life has changed.  

The kids are pretty good fliers, but certain people (ahem, DEY) are still a little bit rambunctious and animated in the airplane.... sigh.

Time spent at my parents’ house is always fun for the kids.  Vev frequently, and in great descriptive detail, talks about all the reasons why he likes my parents’ house better than our own.  I am simultaneously touched and miffed by his honesty.  But I know why it is they love the place.  Aside from the obvious, awesome thing that my parents’ house has going for it - MY PARENTS - the kids also just love to sort through all the random crap that they have, most of which dates back to my own childhood.  My pack rat parents have thrown very little away when it comes to my old toys, books, and childhood accoutrement, and this delights the kids to no end.

Take, for example, Vev’s infatuation with my Lego cargo airplane set, which I probably acquired when I was around 8 years old, and managed to preserve in its box still fully assembled (thank god - b/c I likely wouldn’t be able to put it together now!)

Dey had a great time building and demolishing and rebuilding a hospital from one of my sister’s Lego sets:

Another relic of my childhood, which Vev enjoyed creeping me out with on the daily: my childhood rocking chair, which still lives in my bedroom (this is despite the fact that I didn’t not actually grow up in the house where my parents currently live; clearly, they never got rid of the chair, despite them having moved 2 times since I was a kid, the last time when I was in my 20′s).  The chair is the perfect size for Vev, and every morning, early in the wee hours, I’d open my bleary eyes, and immediately see this:

Such a creeper, that kid.

 My dad, in his perpetual hyperness, did a generous (and kind of crazy) thing, and sprung for two expensive mountain bikes for the kids.  I was kind of bewildered that he’d done that, when they’re going to outgrow these bike sizes so fast, and there’s also no easy way for us to transport the bikes back here to Florida... but, he’s an excited grandfather, so I guess he exercised his prerogative to spoil his grandkids rotten.  The kids honestly LOVED their bikes, and went on twice-daily bike rides in the neighborhood park.

Dey had actually never ridden a bike prior to this, and he rapidly gained skill in it over the week - although he picked up the skill of speed far quicker and more easily than he has the skill of steering.  It’s a nerve-wracking situation.  Oh, and he refused to wear a helmet.  So, yeah - he’s all over the place.

One of the kids’ favorite things about stays at Ajima’s house are the relaxed sleeping arrangements and bedtime routine... which is to say, there really wasn’t one.  They were staying up waaaaay past their normal bedtimes at home, and sleeping either with each other or with me in my bed.  Sleep deprivation and bad sleep hygiene are hallmarks of our summer NOLA getaways.  They didn’t really seem to be affected by this, but I was fucking exhausted the entire stay.

NOLA means beignets!!!!!  Hurray for fried carbs and mountains of sugar!!!

This NOLA trip was even more special than usual, because my uncle A and aunt N (father’s youngest brother and his wife) were visiting my parents from India, so we got to catch up with them and spend lots of quality time.  It was also wonderful to have not one, but TWO Ajimas and Thathas around the house for child entertainment, conversation, and feeding.  Glorious!  We spent a few evenings of their stay going through some old home videos that my mom recently had converted to DVD.  The stills below are from a 1994 trip to India that my family took to spend time with relatives.  The weird looking preteen in the awkward head scarf and navy striped get-up is yours truly :)  And the lady in the green sari is my paternal grandmother, Rajalakshmi (nickname Mani).  We lost her very suddenly and heartbreakingly in May 2002, and none of us have quite gotten over how she was yanked out of our lives... it was poignant but wonderful to see her again on film, looking so animated and full of life.  My dad and uncle sat in silence, watching these videos for hours.....

After about six days of being relative homebodys, playing with tons of old but dear toys, hanging out wth Ajima, Thatha, Thatha A and Ajima N, Thursday rolled around and Dr. Spouse arrived.  The kids were happy to see Daddy, and his arrival signaled the chance for us to go out, do some excursions and sightseeing, and visit with friends.

Annual trip to the Riverwalk - a shopping and entertainment plaza along the Mississippi River, affording lots of chances to watch boats and freighters go by...

Dinner out at a Creole restaurant, where clearly our eyes were waaaay bigger than our stomachs!

Something I’ve wanted to do for a super long time - maybe 2-3 years - is to take the kids to a local small, organic farm near my folks’ house called Sugar Roots Farm.  They have open community days on Saturdays, and somehow on our annual trips, we’ve managed to not spend full Saturdays in town, and thus haven’t been able to visit.  But this time, we did - and we got some hands-on learning about sustainable farming, farm-to-table food production, and of course, animals!

This place is literally behind my parents’ house - its so weird!

Excited to see a tractor.... our main frame of reference with tractors are the ones that get cow-tipped in the Disney Pixar movie “Cars.”

Horses were intimidating.

Ponies were more up the alley of certain people.

We bought feed cups for a dollar so we could make friends with the goats, sheep, alpacas, and chickens.... but in the end, apparently my lionhearted sons were terrified of the teeth on most of these animals, so I got to feed them myself, haha :)

Feeding chickens was manageable, I guess.

Dey’s reaction to the rabbits was hilarious.  He ran over to this enclosure, spotted a large white rabbit hopping around, immediately turned around making this face and exclaimed “Look, a bunny!  It’s a bunny!  It’s a GIRL!!!!” then just ran off again.  Uh, what?  Why do you assume its a girl?!!!  It was so weird!!!

A GIANT pig.  A very sleepy giant pig.

Quack quack quack.

Daddice with the boys.

This was an enjoyable way to spend an hour and change one morning!

Later that same day, we took a VERY special day trip to Baton Rouge, to the home of my cousin and bestie, Neets.  She and her hubby B have two daughters, S and M, and they just put a new swimming pool in the yard of the home they’ve lived in for the last 2 years.  We were excited to have a swimming playdate together, so I picked up a special gift for the girls which was immediately put to use: a giant inflatable rainbow cloud.  Cousin bonding time!

I absolutely love this woman <3

Our final evening in New Orleans was spent playing tourist in my hometown.  Ajima and Thatha accompanied us on a mule carriage tour of the French Quarter, where Bonnie the Mule and her driver/guide regaled us on the super-interesting history of the city.  It was a throwback to my elementary and middle school History classes and field trips, where we’d tour historic sites and antebellum homes, write essays and field trip reports and special projects about Louisiana history and the mixed Creole, French, Spanish, and American culture of New Orleans.

Our attempt to recreate one of our iconic wedding pictures.... unfortunately the, er, large gentleman in the background decided to join us for the fun.

Updated family version.... how far we’ve come.

All too soon, it was time to bid goodbye to Ajima and Thatha, and to our delightful Camp NOLA.  And now we’re back to Camp Memmy in our Miami home.... which is significantly less exciting for everyone involved!!!