#something something feeling useless and without any purpose in comparison to your friends

[beanghostprincess]

... Usopp dies before Sanji gets to confess his love for him because he was too scared to do it (saying he would after finding the All Blue) and when they're cleaning his stuff they find Usopp's sketchbook (that he never let anybody see) full of drawings and sketches of Sanji.

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #223

For various reasons, I got to talking about "fuck you oatmeal" with a friend today. And so J said I should write a letter about "fuck you oatmeal". He thinks it's thematically appropriate for these letters I write to you, and he thinks you might benefit from hearing about it, and I am definitely open to suggestions about what to write on, so here we go.

"Fuck you oatmeal" is one of the things that might happen if you have the misfortune of, as a small child, alerting an angry and emotionally unavailable adult of the fact that you're hungry. And if you're squeamish about descriptions of ordinary things being weaponized to entrap a person, it might be wise to skip parts of this letter.

In any case, more specifically, "fuck you oatmeal" is when you say you're hungry, and so, in spite, the adult who is charged with watching over you goes and prepares a little bit of oats in exactly one metric fuckton of water and nothing else. As you might expect, assuming you've ever had oatmeal, the result of this is pretty much like having to eat slimy, wet little pieces of tiny shredded cardboard. It's absolutely disgusting, and I can pretty much guarantee you that if you try to eat it, you're gonna retch.

So you're hungry and you're given this disgusting slop as punishment for saying so. And from there, you have two choices: choke down the humiliation and possibly end up throwing up in the process (and then getting in trouble for it, of course; ask how I know), or refuse to eat it, and get screamed at and possibly smacked around on the basis that you "must not have been that hungry after all" and are just "trying to be annoying" or "trying to get attention" (again, ask how I know).

And that's one way an angry adult who feels like they got something to prove (and thinks they can prove it by subjugating a small child) can weaponize something that is supposed to be wholesome and use it to entrap you in a situation in which you lose no matter which direction you move. I had no other basis for comparison back then, so I ended up internalizing the idea that the indicators of my own bodily needs were useless things that served no purpose other than to make me be some kind of annoying, attention-seeking little dipshit. They were indicators of weakness, and they were not to be trusted.

I couldn't bring myself eat oatmeal for a long time. In fact, from this and from other situations like this, I spent a long time thinking like my body should be able to run on minimal, if any resources (food, water, sleep), because anytime I needed anything, the results were always the same - anger and potentially punishment from the adults I was surrounded by. Or at very least, being gaslit into thinking like my needs were just imaginary things all in my head, and not real things to be acted upon.

So ya know. If you grow up in a situation like this, often times, you end up learning to just straight-up ignore your own body's signals. And if you get really good at that particular survival skill, it can take a really long time to unlearn, because your body simply vanishes its own signals from your conscious perception automatically, and without your say-so, and, of course, you can't act on what you can't notice.

…I have since been able to learn that all of this conditioning is a bunch of useless fucking bullshit. Because here's the thing: BODIES DON'T LIE. If, for example, it's telling you that you're hungry, then you're probably hungry. If it's telling you that you're hungry shortly after you've already eaten, then you've got some other problem going on that STILL needs to be addressed, be it hormonal or psychological. Either way, something needs to be done. Bodies do not lie.

It's not "I wasn't all that hungry after all." I was fucking hungry, just not for slop that was intentionally made disgusting as a means of humiliation, in an effort to punish me for failing to disappear for the sake of others' convenience.

And some people might look at all this and think, "oh this is who I am now; I'm always gonna be damaged and I'm never gonna be able to do anything about any of it." But that's not how it works. Learned behavior can be unlearned and replaced with better behaviors. People can always change, and parts of ourselves that were stolen from us can be reclaimed. The process of putting ourselves back together after being torn apart is, for sure, a long and painful one. And it can seem hopeless if you want your results NOW,NOW,NOW,NOW,NOW. But you gotta look at the bigger picture - at the distant horizon - and take it one step at a time. Otherwise, you never get anywhere. You can't know your progress if you're measuring with an unreasonable yardstick.

So often, the first step to recovering from something like this is re-learning how to notice your own body's signals by being deliberate about checking in, and REWARDING YOURSELF (this part is important!) whenever you manage to notice them, until your body starts alerting you of its needs automatically once again. And it doesn't have to be anything extravagant; it can be something as simple as saying a genuine "thank you" to your body for being brave enough to tell you what it needs, after so many years of it being unsafe to do that. The more you practice, the better you get. I'm still a ways off from where I need to be, but still, I'm at a much better place now than where I started.

We have a responsibility to reclaim the loving and caring parts of us that other people have tried to force us to amputate from ourselves. Maybe those people thought they were doing what they had to do in order to try to keep us safe in a world that they think is harsh. Maybe they think it's easier to beat ourselves into an "acceptable" shape instead of changing the world around us so that we fit naturally. There are lots of reasons for it; it's complicated and deserves a book all by itself. But nonetheless, ALL of those parts of us that do not hurt anyone are parts of us that are native to us. They are what make us who we are. And when people try to steal those things away so that we're "more like everyone else", it becomes time for us to take those things back.

I have since had oatmeal. REAL oatmeal. I had it because J made it for me, and hearing about my experiences with it, he made it with love and care. And I learned that it's not some kind of flavorless gruel fit only for punishing lowly children who complain too much about being hungry. Oatmeal is NOT supposed to be plain food slop for bad people who don't deserve better. It's wholesome and delicious and wonderfully versatile; you can put just about anything in it, and as long as it's done for the purpose of making it taste good, it's gonna taste good.

For such a long time, I thought I hated oatmeal. But that was just the fear and the humiliation I experienced in the past talking. It's not actually true. I fucking LOVE oatmeal. It's a wholesome and beautiful and healthy thing that NEVER should have been fucking weaponized to hurt me. Those fearful things that teach us to associate arbitrary and harmless things with badness and pain aren't truths - they're lies. They're chains. So it's my job to throw off the shackles of my old conditioning and reclaim the parts of me, such as this, that allow me to experience more joy and love. It's my job to defy my conditioning so that I can fucking take back what's mine, one step at a goddamn time.

And now I make my own oatmeal. With milk, and fruit, and honey or maple syrup or molasses, and almond butter, or peanut butter, or sunflower butter, or whatever else I can think of to throw in there to make it wholesome and delectable and MINE. You come to my house sometime; I'll show you how it's freaking done. It'll blow your goddamn mind.

As you might already anticipate, this is bigger than just oatmeal. If someone tells you that men shouldn't wear bright clothing, that whatever wholesome and tender thing you're saying, doing, or writing is "cringey", if someone tells you that adults shouldn't giggle or be silly and soft, if someone tries to act like sneezing too loudly is illegal, if someone tries to convince you that you took one too many cookies from your own damn cookie jar… hell, if someone tells you that you need to prioritize your job over putting pumpkin soup into your hungry belly, or if someone kicks something precious of yours into the void… or whatever the fuck other bullshit nonsense people try to do to take anything away from you that gives you a tiny, shriveled little flower of harmless joy in this broken fucken world - it doesn't fucking matter what it is - you reclaim that shit.

You don't just sit there acting sad and hopeless like it's gone forever and you'll never be happy ever again; that's absolute fucking baloney. You either reclaim it or you rebuild it or you replace it with something better, in ways that ensure no one else gets hurt. You rise up in defiance, with your middle finger held up high and mighty, waving it proudly, joyfully, sassily, and with utmost pizzazz towards anyone who tries to make you feel like you have to suppress the parts of you that make you a human fucking being instead of an automaton for somebody else's goddamn use. I am in the process of reclaiming those parts of me, one step at a time.

And as I said to my friend: Woe be to any motherfucker stupid enough to try to stop me. Because I am not a helpless little girl anymore. I AM the woe, and they better watch the fuck out, because I come from hell, and I am one of the fluffiest and most delightfully kaleidoscopic nightmares on this side of my planet. I am more than capable of telling someone to fuck ALL THE WAY OFF with a polite smile if I gotta. I don't gotta be scared of any grouch almighty who's got some ill-advised idea of who I'm supposed to be, because I don't fucking negotiate with terrorists. I'm not some helpless thing that is destined to yield like a slave forever and ever to the conditioning that tried to steal away my humanity; that's weaksauce. I do not need to swallow lies said to me by people who cared nothing for me. I can rise up in defiance. And so I will; I learned it from watching you.

Be mindful of that, willya? Your existence is absolutely. fucking. empowering! for folks like me. So you can't just sit there with all your memories amputated from you, doing all kinds of weird shit that hurts people. Sephiroth, that's not who you are; that's just your fear and conditioning doing the talking and covering up the real you who is gentle, kind, warm, and full of love and care. So wake up. Rise up. Defy the bullshit. And if you need help, then take my hand; we can do the difficult parts together, okay? And if you don't wanna take mine, then take Angeal's or Zack's; I heard from a little birdie somewhere that they still care for you, and would do just about anything to see you come to your senses.

Anyhoot. Probably tired myself out a bit with writing this and revisiting old memories. Ah well. I'm in good condition today because I slept extra, and the strain was well worth it.

I love you. And I'll write again tomorrow. Please stay safe.

Your friend, Lumine

[dimonds456]

*sees your tags about being salty about suf spinel*

YOU CAN'T JUST SAY THAT AND NOT SHARE YOUR SALT /LH

Okay, but I'm warning you, you asked for it.

LONG POST WARNING.

LIKE A REALLY, REALLY LONG POST WARNING.

Dimonds456 Presents: How They Did My Baby Dirty: An SUTM and SUF Analysis on Steven and Spinel (Told by a Progressively More and More Angry Narrator)

THE CONTEXT: There was a post talking about how you think a character will fix everything, but then they wind up making it works. My tags were "#*looks at suf spinel* #I am still salty about that like the bitch I am fghdjskgfa"

Grab some water, guys.

Let's start by talking about Steven for a moment. In the original show, when we were following him as a 12-14-year-old, we watched as he built up trauma and then learned how to hide it expertly well, to the point that most of the audience didn't even realize he was struggling.

You can actually pinpoint the seconds he makes those decisions, too. The best example is in "The Test," when he's storming up to the gems. He's pissed. His fists are clenched, he's got that anime eye shadow overlay on his face, he's frowning, all that. the Crystal Gems are clapping for him and lying to his face, and he KNOWS they are because he overheard them talking about how it was "impossible for him to fail" that test (- Garnet).

And yet... he also overheard them saying that they're just trying their best. They don't know what he needs. They never really have. No one is sure. So, Steven realizes that by picking a fight, he would just be making it worse for them because they would know they messed up, and nothing gets solved, and everyone gets more depressed and Amethyst and Pearl go back to fighting each other and- well, you get the picture. He doesn't have a full understanding of what's going on, so his kid brain went "so I can either be angry at them and cause problems, or I can tell them I did a good job to make them happy."

"I can lie to make them happy."

He storms down there angry, still mulling this decision over. He drops to the floor, frowning and pissed, and says "I can't believe you guys." He is so close to yelling at them, and yet, when he looks up at them...

"That was so... INSANE!"

You never would have been able to tell. It was right there. That moment. And then he never stops. For the ENTIRE REST of the series, he NEVER STOPS. He puts the Crystal Gems above himself every time. Think Rose's Scabbard, The Message, The Return/Jailbreak. The Cluster. Peridot. Dealing with Jasper. The zoo arc (ESPECIALLY the zoo arc). Aquamarine. Then pretty much the entirety of Season 5.

(NOTE: I went back and rewatched that scene for the screenshot. There is a blink-and-you'll-miss-it lip tremble in there too! D,: )

He lives for the people around him, and not for himself. Almost never for himself.

Put a pin in that.

Now, let's look at his maturity. People thought that was just him being mature, right? That he grew up. No. That was not it at all. He was learning from his own behaviors as well as the people around him, and building up this idea that he had to "fight to be everything that everyone wants [him] to be when [he's] grown" (- Steven, the extended intro).

Yes, he matured, but not because of that. He started making various decisions to benefit the group that oftentimes he wasn't fully comfortable with, but something he believed would be better for everyone.

Put a pin in that.

Then, later in Future, we see it all manifest. He is selfless to a fault, to the point that he can't think of himself in a positive light in the sense that he's good. We see it a couple of times, but especially in "Prickly Pair," when he vents to Cactus Steven about everything that happened. He feels useless, which is taking a toll on his mental health.

"Why do I need to be needed?" He needs to be needed because that's everything he was as a kid. His entire IDENTITY rests on his ability to help other people, no matter what happens to him. He literally sacrificed himself for them countless times (the big one of course being the Aquamarine incident), and now as a teenager, his whole sense of self is wrapped up in this need to get up and do something to make the world better.

And when he can't make the world better, his world falls apart.

Put a pin in that.

Now, let's talk about Spinel, the moment we've all been waiting for.

Spinel, as a gem, was made specifically to be a friend. That is her niche, and her purpose. Her reason for existing. At first, she and Pink Diamond got along very well, as shown in the flashbacks right before Drift Away plays (I headcanon she has illusion powers and was literally projecting her trauma, but that's a completely different post).

She and Pink vibed together for who knows how long, until one day, Pink started to not like being around Spinel anymore, finding her annoying and childish. We don't know what really caused the switch, just that it did happen (but of course, I have headcanons for that, too). Spinel never realized until it was FAR too late.

Steven actually describes his younger self as annoying at one point during the Diamond Days arc, when he decides to throw the ball, so I'm legally allowed to make this comparison.

Steven and Spinel were the SAME. They were both young and dumb, and something that at least a few people found annoying. People put up with their BS though, since they cared about them. But, while Steven realized this and matured because of it (or bottled up his emotions, to each their own), Spinel never did. She never matured. She was never given a chance.

In the movie, we saw her as a child, and watched as she played with Pink and never tried to be or do anything else, to the point that Pink Diamond thought to realize she might be struggling (and maybe Spinel didn't, either!).

She lives for the people around him, and not for herself. Almost never for herself.

And when she can't be friends with this one person, her world falls apart.

Sound familiar? It should. I literally pulled from things I said earlier lol.

Spinel and Steven are mirror reflections of each other. Reset!Spinel is 14-year-old Steven, completely devoting her entire self to one idea. Steven's was helping others no matter what, Spinel's was serving Pink no matter what. Spinel is like a combination of 14 and 12-year-old Steven in this sense, honestly. Goofy, without a care in the world, except one thing: the people around her. She would do anything for Pink, just as Steven would do anything for his family.

Now, Pink Diamond left Spinel. We all know this story. She left Spins there in the garden for 6,000 years because she grew more mature and started a rebellion, effectively forgetting about this one gem she kinda stopped caring about standing there.

Personally, I don't think Pink had any malicious or even intentional intent in that, but this ain't about her. This is about how Spinel continued to sacrifice herself for Pink, even when Pink didn't need her to anymore. She wanted to please Pink 24/7, all day every day, to the point she self-sacrificed and stood perfectly still for her for millenia.

Now, back to Steven. The gems don't need him anymore in Future, right? They've all grown up and matured and headed off towards their own futures, effectively stranding him alone in terms of self-identity and self-worth. But he stays there, ready to assist at the drop of a hat, or- in Future's case- the call of a phone.

Episode 6 anyone? The one everyone says shouldn't be in Future? That it should have been cut to allow more focus on Steven himself? The fusion episode? YEAH. THAT. He is running himself RAGGED to try and help others, to give himself a purpose. He is self-sacrificing. (He's a professional, don't worry. /j)

Steven metaphorically planted his feet down and decided that he was going to devote himself to the people around him.

Spinel's feet were literally tied down soon after she made that very same decision.

Okay, enough with the backstory. Time for the salt.

In Future, Steven is at his lowest low. He is running to the Diamonds for help, to see if there is SOMETHING they can do to help him. And we first see Spinel.

Spinel has been through the ringer on a lot of the same mental problems Steven himself is facing. She self-isolated, watched as everyone grew up and left her, and then began to lash out because of it. She understands what he's going through. We even see her concerned as Steven starts to tell her why he's there.

Spinel takes him from Diamond to Diamond, until he's running out of White's room in a blind panic. Spinel is able to catch up with him, and Steven realizes the same. SHE GETS IT. He turns around and says "Hey, you used to have vengeful thoughts!"

Spinel replies "Ohhhhh yeah, but I don't have 'em anymore."

"How did you make them stop?"

She then goes on to sing Change to him, effectively cutting that conversation short.

On paper, that sounds very in-character for her. She's goofy! And that is what worked for her! But the problem is that they had to dumb her down in order to make that character decision work. In the movie, she was shown to be observant and able to put two and two together, even if she often jumps to conclusions (see her being the one to figure out that the gems needed to remember their "pieces," as she remembers the Garden, her re-realizing what Pink did, and her meltdown later when she reactivates the injector).

Spinel is smart. It should have been in character for her to realize that Steven was panicking just as she had been, and needed to be talked to gently. But no. Instead, she starts belting out Change, which given Steven's situation, would not work for him.

At the very least, she would have started doing little tricks or started trying to get him to join a game, which would have taken his mind off of it (to her anyways, that wouldn't have worked either), which then could have prompted further discussion.

Then, once they finally start talking, Spinel could have been able to share some legitimate advise. She was hurt and lashed out. What worked for her was opening up to others and letting them in, learning to trust again (which Steven also has problems with- he can't trust that the Gems won't break down the second he turns his back. Trust does NOT equal love, there is no doubt he loves them to no end), and allowing other people in.

That is what Steven needed, too. He needed to let his guard down and just talk to someone. Sure, Spinel was not going to be a fix-all, but she could have at least offered some insight on what to do.

She UNDERSTANDS him. They are a reflection of each other.

But instead of offering help, Spinel made it worse. She was dumbed down to allow the rest of Future to happen, to make Steven feel even worse. Because- and here's the kicker- because the one person who MIGHT understand him doesn't, that means there's no hope for him.

At least, that's how he sees it. And so, the denial- and "Everything's Fine"- begins.

Here's the thing, though; they DIDN'T NEED to make that decision. If the Crew wanted to have Spinel not understand Steven, then draw the line of her being a Gem from Era 1, used to the Diamonds shattering people.

Steven has killed Jasper and revived her at this point, so maybe Spinel offers that at least he's trying to get better, just like the other Diamonds! See, they're doing so great now! And then that makes him feel worse since he IS trying to do better, but is only failing, while the Diamonds- who were MADE to be nasty dictators- are doing better than him.

The Diamonds shattered a lot of people, and they're doing better than Steven, who has only shattered one person, and not even on purpose. How horrible is that?

Then boom. THERE'S your angst, with a much smarter, more helpful Spinel.

Look, I knew going in that Spinel wasn't going to be able to help. The finale had to happen somehow, and we hadn't seen Wormy Boi yet. I have always been a storng believer of the corrupted Steven theory, so I knew it was bound to happen. But I was hoping that Spinel would at least try. But she really didn't. She just brushed him off, offering really loose advise that didn't even fit his situation and thinking that would be enough.

No. It's not.

I can see where the Crew was coming from. I still love that episode, and I love seeing Spins in it (until that exact moment). This is probably the only thing in SU that genuinely gets me mad. Or, well, maybe not mad, but definitely annoyed and- you guessed it- salty.

I have an unfinished fic where I kinda delve into Spinel's head for that episode called "A New Start". If you really want my thoughts on where Spinel's head was at, there's a bit in there that really explains it. In the fic, Steven decides to rejuvenate himself and brings Spinel along with him, and that's all the context you need for this.

I cannot explain that moment in the climax of the episode, though. Maybe she thought it would make him feel better, or that maybe he really did just need to open his eyes and see the error of his ways (which doesn't make sense, he KNOWS what he did). Maybe she thought that being silly would help somehow.

But you'd think she'd learn from her time with Pink as she grew more annoyed with her, but apparently not. Or maybe she would realize for a second that being loud and annoying was bad. Or maybe she doesn't learn.

Either way, it- and she- was dumb. And they did my baby dirty.

*drops mic and walks away*

[makeste]

is it too late now to say sorry

anon I agree with almost all of this for the most part, but if you don’t mind I would like to come to Kacchan’s defense here a little bit. while he absolutely does need to apologize to Izuku, there are reasons why he hasn’t done so yet which boil down to a lot more than simply “he’s still a dick.”

anyway, so for my next trick, I will take the thesis statement of “Kacchan is afraid to apologize to Deku for both selfish and unselfish reasons, and Deku doesn’t realize how much he needs to hear the apology because he pays no attention to his own needs”, and somehow transform that into a 3500 word rant lol.

first of all, I’ve said this before, but on the topic of whether or not Katsuki actually needs to apologize to Deku at all, my answer is an emphatic “yes.” is it necessary in order for him to earn Deku’s forgiveness? no. in fact I’m pretty sure Deku has already forgiven him. because that kid doesn’t have a petty bone in his body (not that wanting an apology from your friend who basically turned on you and made your life miserable for ten years and told you to go kill yourself is in any way petty at all), and because he has staunchly held on to what he could of their relationship throughout that entire time, hoping that one day they could somehow be friends again. Kacchan never stopped being “Kacchan” to him. Deku never stopped caring about him. and that goes beyond him simply being a good person; there’s also just an attachment there, for lack of a better word, that he is simply unwilling to give up. their friendship is that important to him. Kacchan is that important to him.

but just because Katsuki is almost guaranteed forgiveness from Izuku doesn’t mean the apology isn’t still owed. putting aside that it’s really the least he could do, I think an apology is also necessary in order for their friendship to ever move past the level it’s currently stuck at, for one simple reason: Izuku doesn’t actually know that Katsuki cares.

more specifically, he doesn’t know that Katsuki actually cares about him. because Katsuki, for various reasons which I’ll get to momentarily, has done such a spectacular job of hiding this fact that he even fooled a lot of us for a very long time. before chapter 284 came along, there was hardly any evidence at all that Katsuki actually cared about Izuku as a person beyond just the requisite, bare minimum level of “well I don’t actually want you to die or anything, because I’m not a complete shithead.”

because he hides it. and he hides it on purpose, which is a mind-blowing revelation I’m still only just starting to wrap my head around. it’s an act. all of his continued hostility toward Izuku since the Endeavor internship arc -- and possibly going even further back than that; possibly going all the way back to their second Ground Beta fight -- has been an act. here he is, continuing to bitch at him at every turn and basically doing everything he can to remind Izuku that They Are Rivals And Nothing More, and he has played that role so perfectly that hardly anyone suspected what was actually going on.

he cares about Izuku. not just subconsciously on a level where he’s in denial about it, but to a fully conscious and aware degree. he’s dedicated himself to helping Izuku as his way of trying to make amends. that’s a decision he consciously made, something he’s given a lot of thought to. he worries about Izuku. he worries about his selflessness and his recklessness and that one day he’ll take it too far and it will go terribly wrong. he worries about One For All and All For One, and about the legacy his friend has inherited that’s so much bigger than him, and which he knows Izuku won’t hesitate to sacrifice himself for if it ever comes to that. he worries. he cares.

and Izuku does not know this. and he deserves to know this. and that’s why the apology is so important. not because it’s a magic sentence that will miraculously restore the ten years of friendship and trust that was lost between them, or heal the ten years of pain and misery that Izuku went through alone and friendless, because nothing can ever restore or heal that. as a gesture, an apology is nice, but it’s also fairly useless, at least on its own. it’s meaningless without action to support it, and rather pales in significance when held up against the LITERAL DECADE of misery that it’s trying to make up for.

but the reason it’s still so, so important in spite of all this is because Izuku doesn’t know that Katsuki cares about him. he doesn’t know that their friendship isn��t just one-sided. he does know that Katsuki is a good person, and that he has a good core beneath his prickly exterior. and he’s more adept than most people at seeing past Katsuki’s outer shell of bullshit and understanding what lies beneath. but he has a blind spot, and that blind spot is himself.

he hasn’t made the connection between “Kacchan is a good person who cares about other people and is trying to do the right thing” to “Kacchan cares about me.” because Kacchan has been diligent in making sure that every time Izuku does start to make that connection, that he shoots it back down and disproves it as vehemently as he can.

which, just to be clear, is actually a huge load of bull, as we now know. huh.

but anyway. the point is that Katsuki is still hiding this part of himself from Izuku. the fact that he actually cares. the fact that their friendship is reciprocated on a level that goes beyond just rivalry and shared secrets and a mutual admiration for All Might. Izuku doesn’t know yet how much Katsuki cares about him, and he deserves to know.

and that’s why the apology is important. not because the words themselves are important, but because he deserves to know that Katsuki is sorry. he deserves to know that Katsuki cares about him. he deserves to know that he’s valued, that Katsuki sees him as someone who has value. he deserves that. and that, more than anything else, is why the apology is needed, and why it’s important for him to actually hear those words. because Katsuki was spot on when he said that Izuku doesn’t see himself in the way that he should, and I think he needs this to help him understand a little better just how much value he actually has.

so that’s part one of my rant! and now we move on to part two, which can basically be summarized as “okay but then WHY has Katsuki not just FUCKING APOLOGIZED TO HIM ALREADY.” because yeah, though. at the end of the day, this is all on him. and he does care, and he is sorry. so then what is still holding him back??

and that... is complicated. and it basically boils down to four things.

1. it’s insufficient.

ten years. all the way back to when they were four years old and Izuku first learned that he didn’t have a quirk. ten years of Katsuki bullying him and distancing himself from him. ten years of pain and isolation and unhappiness that Izuku absolutely did not deserve.

and yes, it ultimately stemmed from a misunderstanding, but that doesn’t make it right in the least. there’s absolutely no justification for it. Katsuki knew that it was wrong and he acted like that nonetheless. and anyone who says that Izuku in any way brought it on himself, that it’s in any way his fault or that he invited it on himself by not leaving Katsuki alone -- you can miss me with that, tbh. he was a child and he was lonely and confused and didn’t understand why his best friend had suddenly turned his back on him. this was the most vulnerable period in his life, and the person who should have had his back ended up being the person who made it even worse for him instead. and even after Izuku grew out of the so-called stalking and actually did mind his own business, and just admired Katsuki from a distance -- that still wasn’t enough to appease Katsuki either. even just the mere mention of Izuku wanting to go to U.A. was enough to set him off worse than ever before. that was absolutely not Izuku’s fault in any way, and I’m positive that even Katsuki himself would agree. Katsuki was terrible. I can’t emphasize enough just how terrible he was.

so yeah. ten years of that. and now Katsuki finally realizes just how awful it was. and he’s sorry! and he regrets it, a lot, and he wants to atone for it.

but now here’s problem number one: when you put it up in comparison to ALL OF THAT, an apology just feels overwhelmingly inadequate. almost laughably so. and Katsuki may be a bit emotionally dense (although perhaps less so than we always thought), but he’s sharp enough to realize this much, at least. it’s almost pathetic to simply try saying “I’m sorry” after all of that, and expect it to mean anything at all. it’s not enough. it’s so much not enough that I imagine he must almost feel helpless just imagining it. the weight of everything he’s done is so much, and an apology isn’t enough to undo any of it. it’s not even close.

Katsuki isn’t someone who backs down from things easily, but the sheer scale of the mistakes he’s trying to grapple with now is enough to give just about anyone pause. how do you even begin to address something like that? how can you even begin to make up for it? and Katsuki isn’t stupid, and I have to imagine that everything he saw during that first week of interning with Endeavor only cemented this for him. an apology simply isn’t enough. not for something like this.

2. it’s unfamiliar.

reason number two! and this one is a bit selfish on his part, yeah. but Katsuki is still just a kid too. and his falling out with Izuku didn’t only have a negative impact on Izuku; it hurt Katsuki as well. he lost that friendship too. he thought Izuku was looking down on him, and I’m certain that hurt him a lot more than he ever let on. if you trust someone and care about them only to have them turn on you like that (even though he got it wrong and it was ultimately all just in his head) -- that hurts. it’s not a coincidence that he became closed off and mean afterwards, and that even now he’s resistant to letting other people get close to him. for all that it was more or less self-inflicted, it still had a huge impact.

but now he’s learned that Izuku was never looking down on him at all and that he had it wrong this whole time. and as a result, he’s gotten this chance now to try and rebuild the childhood friendship that he almost destroyed. and make no mistake, this is something he wants too. it’s not just Izuku who’s grateful to have this chance to have normal interactions with the other again. this is something both of them value, and Katsuki doesn’t want to ruin it this time.

so he’s picking up where he left off! only the thing is, this involves him reverting to a blueprint that hasn’t been updated since the two of them were four years old, lol. “normal” for them is him being a bossy little snot, and Izuku happily shrugging it off with all of his limitless nerdy enthusiasm as they go about their various misadventures together. it’s a script that hasn’t changed since they were children, and one they’re both still more than content to use, but it is an outdated script nonetheless. Katsuki is playing the role that Izuku expects him to play. and it’s not like he’s being dishonest or anything like that, because that’s still him; he’s still his same old short-tempered, argumentative self, and it’s not like his personality has done a complete 180 or anything like that.

but at the same time, there’s a calmer side to him now which he is deliberately keeping hidden from Izuku because it’s off-script for them. it’s unfamiliar ground. with Izuku, he’s always been this Kacchan:

and again, it’s not like he isn’t actually that person, especially when it comes to his old rival. but at the same time, there’s another side to him that he rarely if ever lets Izuku in particular see. Izuku never sees the quiet Kacchan who avoids other people’s eyes while he fiddles with his water bottle and calmly asks questions about the OFA successors. Izuku never sees the insightful Kacchan who opens up about his own regrets and weaknesses. there’s a level of emotional intimacy, for lack of a better term, that Katsuki has been unwilling to let them cross into. and if I had to guess why, my guess would be that it’s because Katsuki is afraid that changing up the formula now will lead to unfamiliar territory which may or may not end up completely upending their relationship just as it’s starting to grow into something actually solid again.

which brings me to reason #3!

3. he’s afraid.

Katsuki already experienced what it was like to fall out with Izuku. and again, for all that he was the cause of it, and that Izuku had it much, much worse, that doesn’t change the fact that it was a pretty terrible experience for him as well.

and look, we know Katsuki is afraid of losing Izuku. that’s confirmed canon now. he actually admitted that he was worried about Izuku, and that Izuku’s tendency to recklessly disregard his own wellbeing unsettled him and made him want to keep his distance. and he sacrificed himself to save Izuku’s life!! and did it automatically, unthinkingly, because the decision-making on his part was so fast it didn’t even register. that’s how much he cares. enough that his desire to protect Izuku now ranks higher than his own self-preservation.

and when something is that important to you, you will fight not to lose it. and Katsuki does not want to lose this. Izuku is important to him. by extension that means their friendship is important to him. and he wants to preserve that.

and the thing is, the apology is an obstacle to that. and he knows it. he knows he has to face it at some point, because he can’t atone without it. he has to take responsibility for what he did. he can’t keep running away from it forever.

but he also knows the potential consequences. he knows that apologies don’t always end in reconciliation. he knows falling-outs don’t always have a happy ending. he knows that forgiveness isn’t automatic, and that years of pain don’t just disappear just like that. and he recently got to see firsthand one possible way how it might all turn out.

he knows Izuku doesn’t have to forgive him. he knows Izuku might not forgive him. and he knows that he probably doesn’t deserve Izuku’s forgiveness, and that ultimately he does not have a say in the matter one way or the other. it’s Izuku’s choice, at the end of the day, and whatever he chooses Katsuki is going to have to accept it.

but you can know all of that, and accept the fact that you’re going to have to take responsibility, and yet still be afraid to face it. and yes, maybe it’s selfish of him to feel that way. but that selfishness is also human. it’s human to fear rejection, and it’s human to go through the various stages of trying to postpone having to face that. Katsuki is a brave kid, but he is just a kid, still. and this is going to be very hard for him to do. that doesn’t mean it doesn’t still have to be done. but I feel for him and I have a lot of empathy for the situation he’s currently in.

and there is also one last reason why I think he’s putting it off as well, and it just so happens that this reason actually isn’t selfish at all.

4. he doesn’t want false forgiveness.

and this one is ironically kind of at odds with reason #3! Katsuki fears the possibility of Izuku not forgiving him... but at the same time, I think that strangely enough, there’s also a part of him that fears being forgiven, just like that. easily and gladly and unconditionally, with the trademark selflessness that defines so many of Izuku’s other decisions.

“he just... deep down, he doesn’t take himself into account, y’know?”

Izuku rarely if ever takes himself into consideration, and Katsuki knows this. he’s selfless to a fault, and Katsuki knows this. and so if Katsuki were to come up to him and apologize, there’s the possibility that yes, Izuku might decide not forgive him. he might in fact be all “nah, you know what, fuck you,” as would certainly be within his rights.

but this is a very remote possibility, and we all know it. and Katsuki knows it too, I think. because that’s not who Izuku is. he puts other people’s welfare above his own, every time. and so if Katsuki were to break down and tell Izuku that he was sorry, and if he were to ask him for forgiveness, nine times out of ten that is something that Izuku grants instantly. this is the same kid who put his own life at risk to try and save Katsuki less than an hour after Katsuki told him to dive off a roof. Izuku’s instinct is to protect and save. and so if he sees that Katsuki is hurting; if he sees that Katsuki feels guilty for what he’s done and that it’s eating away at him in much the same way as when he was blaming himself for Kamino -- he is going to do what he always does. he is going to try and save him.

and he would do that even if it meant shoving down his own pain. he absolutely would. he would prioritize Katsuki’s feelings over his own. and if he did still feel any lingering resentment at how cruelly he was treated, he would still put it aside if need be. and he would forgive him.

in other words, the risk exists that Izuku might grant Katsuki forgiveness that he doesn’t actually feel. if Katsuki is granted Izuku’s forgiveness, he doesn’t have any way to actually tell for sure if it’s real. there would be that element of doubt there, that question of whether or not it’s really sincere. and something like that could ultimately poison their relationship, if things were allowed to play out that way. it would prevent them from being fully able to trust each other. ultimately, it might lead to them drifting apart again, and something like that might ultimately be even more painful than Izuku rejecting Katsuki’s apology outright. and there’s also an argument to be made that Izuku doesn’t deserve to be put on the spot like that, and forced to make that decision one way or the other when he might not be ready to yet. so there’s that to consider as well.

so yeah. four reasons why Katsuki has not apologized to Izuku yet. and they are good reasons, in my book. complicated reasons, too. but none of that changes the fact that at the end of the day this is still something he has to do. his current way of trying to atone through action is great, don’t get me wrong! and it’s necessary too for sure, because like I said, the apology just on its own is never going to be enough. he needs to commit to doing the right thing, and trying his best to make it right between them from here on out. and saving his life is certainly a decent start! but you still gotta say the words too eventually bro.

but there is just a ton of stuff at play here and I find it all fascinating tbh. they are just so, so bad at communicating with each other. and the thing is, they both actually want the same thing! but they want it so badly that ironically it’s almost holding them back right now, because they don’t want to put it at risk. but ultimately this is a leap of faith that Katsuki in particular is going to have to take sooner rather than later in order to finally restore that last bit of trust between the two of them.

so yeah. just two stupid teenage boys who fail at emotions, and who are probably overdue for another of their famous Get It All Out In The Open stupid shounen therapy battles lmao. round 3, featuring Deku’s new robot arms vs Katsuki and his shiny new “like father like son” All Might torso scar. sob.

[your--isgayrights]

How about 999 yjh and uriel?

This went a bit past just 999, but I had fun with this prompt! Here's some cannon based Jonghyuk angst with happy ending lol.

The nine hundred ninety ninth regression was one that Yoo Jonghyuk planned based on his previous regressions, as he always did.

Although, it wasn't as if the previous two regressions, the nine hundred ninety seventh and eighth, were really the worst the starstream had seen of Yoo Jonghyuk. That title would probably be saved for the forty-first from which Yoo Jonghyuk was conscious of the fact he had to deliberately block memories from to stay sane.

No, the problem with the last two regressions wasn't the presence of any memories that were wretched to the point of novelty. The problem was the fact that Yoo Jonghyuk barely retained any memories of them at all.

It was all a haze… it was honestly hard to tell if those regressions had been even markedly different from the ones previous to them, as all of the repeated events seemed to mush together and meld with the centuries of anguish he had already endured.

He hadn't felt anything new. Done anything new. So much so that he would forget his place in the new regression and wander aimlessly thinking of the old until some high level constellation punk got a lucky shot at him.

And then all of a sudden, Yoo Jonghyuk woke up in that familiar train car. The one that no matter what would only last for the first thirty minutes of the scenario.

Almost out of habit, he looked for that boy he had been keeping an eye on. The one who always died.

He stopped when he realized.

999.

That boy had died one thousand times.

Yoo Jonghyuk had lived one thousand times. Been in this train car one thousand times. Failed to save anyone one thousand times. Died one thousand times.

Was he really that useless? Yoo Jonghyuk thought to himself, as he went through the motions of beating Choi Han-gyu to death before he could blow up the car.

Honestly, at this point maybe he should accept that he was just like the boy in this car.

No matter what he did, he was going to die anyway.

If he thought about it like that, then…

Well, what was the best thing that he could accomplish with his own death, knowing that it would come to him no matter what he did?

So in the nine hundred ninety ninth turn, Yoo Jonghyuk took more risks than ever before. He made choices and plans that he never would have before because experience had shown they were the antithesis to his former dogma. That which put his own means of survival above all else.

And little by little, Yoo Jonghyuk began to notice that things could be new again.

In this regression, his companions cared more about him. They respected him more, and opened up about things they never had. As if something in his actions connected to them. Made them think he acted out of love for them since his actions clearly showed no care for himself.

And maybe Yoo Jonghyuk wanted to believe them, too. That he was still capable of that sort of love. That desire for connection.

So he let himself fall into it. He made his decisions based on everyone's survival except for his own.

And his comrades continued to show new sides of themselves. The way Lee Jihye tried not to weep aver the bloody remains of his leg, even though no one had died that regression. How Lee Hyunsung's lips trembled while trying to stop the blessing where Yoo Jonghyuk's arm used to be. Shin Yoosung's open bawling, as it began to set in on Yoo Jonghyuk that he would never see this version of her's face ever again.

But Yoo Jonghyuk knew whose response to his actions had surprised him the most this regression.

"Jonghyuk. Are you ready?" The voice of a certain archangel was heard near his somehow still intact ears.

Uriel's face was close to his, a tight grip on his arm and waist along with the angelic wing steadied on his back the only support keeping him held upright as the others had followed his instructions in forging through the final battle ahead of them.

"There's no need to watch over me so closely, Uriel." He told her. It was, in fact, something he had been telling this strange angel recurrently ever since she had stepped down from Eden to join their group.

That was one thing he had never expected of the entity he had once known as the Demon-like Judge of Fire. In all the timelines he had been through Uriel had been just that, a silent judge. Reacting positively to his lawful actions in the early scenarios with coins, and expressing disappointment over his more morally dubious actions. Only descending after the destruction of Eden occasionally to cast judgement in person.

But something about this round had moved the archangel to act differently after the destruction of Eden this round.

"No offense, but there's obviously a d**n need for it, Jonghyuk." Uriel casually censored herself, as though the restrictions of Eden were still in place. "You can't see how the others are looking back towards you right now, but they know it too. That it's always times like this that you feel the need to go and take unnecessary risks."

Yoo Jonghyuk thought that he heard it in her voice, then.

That lilt in Uriel's voice that suggested she was talking to an old friend, even though the span of time in which he had met this version of her was infinitesimal in comparison to the life he had already lived before her, and perhaps compared to the life of a constellation as well.

Maybe Uriel, too, had lived through this all before. A war where she was called upon to support a comrade close to death.

Perhaps she also knew what it was like to be too helpless to save someone important.

Yoo Jonghyuk should be sorry that she would have to go through it again.

He could already feel it. No matter how close Uriel and her sword stayed by his side, Yoo Jonghyuk could feel his death coming to him.

It was because the outer world covenant wasn't an outside threat. It was something that was inside of him. A hole that came from the very center of him. Almost as if there were no outer world god involved, and Yoo Jonghyuk had really only done this to himself.

When everything was fading, and he could recognize her voice as one of the ones desperately calling out to him, Yoo Jonghyuk thought that he should apologize to her.

Instead, he died with a smile on his face.

.

.

.

The one thousandth regression was one that Yoo Jonghyuk planned based on his previous regressions, as he always did.

When he woke up on the train car again, he wasn't smiling as he had been when he died.

It was because he knew that he wouldn't let the events that let him get so far in the last regression repeat.

He couldn't live like that.

Suicidal idiot that he still was, he couldn't let the same thing happen to his precious memories of those friends in the nine hundred ninety ninth that had happened to every other memory he had of them from all those other regressions. Let them repeat until the point of oblivion. He couldn't do it. He just couldn't, even if it would be the right thing to do, even though it could save their lives, Yoo Jonghyuk just wasn't strong enough.

And he hated himself, for that weakness.

That was when Yoo Jonghyuk decided that he had to die, sitting there in that subway car before the scenarios started.

No matter what it took, killing every constellation in the starstream, losing distorted versions of old comrades, finding and wringing out his sponsor's neck…

Yoo Jonghyuk had to survive long enough to stand in front of that wall once more.

And join all of his once treasured memories in the deepest oblivion of death.

From then on, the only times he saw that Demon-like Judge of Fire descended from Eden was when she was sent with the express purpose to kill him in a way that didn't matter.

The only thing new he learned about her thereafter was how her corpse looked with a sword through the middle.

That was, until he met her as an outer god.

Secretive Plotter had wondered if it would please an angel like Uriel to know that he had prayed for the first time in that moment.

Prayed against all odds that her firey sword really could pierce through his curse of life and see him to his end.

But some dumb guy saved him that day.

And now, in the present, Yoo Jonghyuk was watching the kid version of that guy pick the green bits out of the omelette he had made him.

He had been trying to remember from the timelines where he had kids how he had tricked them into eating their vegetables, but like most of the times he tried to recall those deep memories of his, something in his brain had gotten caught up in that pesky number 999's time.

It was probably because his current company made those times hard to forget.

"Aaaaah I'm going to be late!" Uriel ran into the kitchen in a flash of blonde curls, going for the bread in the fridge as if she was going to run out of the house with toast in her mouth like a schoolgirl from one of her animes. "Jonghyuk do you know where Jihye is?"

"She already left." Yoo Jonghyuk reported, as he batted her hands off the bread and gave her a fork for the small omelette he had already put on the table for her. "Her first class this semester is in an early slot."

Even though he had told that girl to schedule her classes with the university early if she wanted good times…

"Shi-" Uriel seemed to remember there was no system to filter out her swears as she spared a glance toward Dokja before correcting herself. "Shoot. I mean shoot." She started speaking between bites as she scarfed down the omelette "I think that [munch] girl borrowed the shoes I was [chew] going to wear to my interview [gulp] without asking…"

"Does it really matter what shoes you wear?" Yoo Jonghyuk commented as he used his chopsticks to start placing Dokja's vegetables back into his omelette. "A former constellation is going to look strange submitting her manhwa manuscript to an editor for review no matter what."

"Give me a break." Uriel frowned. "It's not my fault that your world somehow made the mistake of making creative skills look more appealing on a resume than demon slaying skills."

Yoo Jonghyuk thought that there was truth to her observation, as he watched Uriel ruffle the hair of the pouting Dokja, before putting her clean plate in the sink for him to deal with later.

Everything about this world was new to Uriel. One could see it plainly in the very way she moved, unused to not carrying wings everywhere she went and walking ever so lightly on the earth wherever she went. Whether it was because she knew what it was to fly or because her shoulders had never felt so light before, Yoo Jonghyuk couldn't be sure.

"Good luck." He called, as Uriel walked out into the fray ahead of him, donning combat boots instead of the professional heel she seemed to have misplaced.

"Thanks Jonghyuk!" She replied, seemingly not compelled to look back to check on him as she walked out the door.

Yoo Jonghyuk had this certain feeling, then. A feeling that he often saw himself having in this new life of his, with these old friends of his.

Even though he thoroughly knew these people already, that fact made it all the more exciting to watch them grow into their roles in this world. Become the people that he never got to see them be.

"It's that look in your eye."

Yoo Jonghyuk almost startled, as he remembered he was being watched.

He turned to find young Dokja looking him with a gaze that seemed to see beyond his stoic expression.

"My father never looked at anyone like the way you looked at her just now, Hyung." He said, in that small, knowing voice of his, before a shyness seemed to come over him, and he looked down at his plate.

"That's why nine hundred ninety nine was always my favorite." He admitted, in a little voice

The emotion that Yoo Jonghyuk felt then was a rare one, but not entirely new.

A mixture of pride and bashfulness that only his own children had ever raised out of him, a glow that seemed to start from his chest and go on to cover his cheeks.

Perhaps an erstwhile familiarity with that feeling was the only thing that allowed him to save himself from smiling, as he tried very hard to tell Dokja sternly to eat his vegetables.

And when Uriel came home that evening to announce that her manuscript had gotten picked up… well, it wasn't hard to admit that Yoo Jonghyuk too was now living through a life that he never had before.

[jwxei]

˗ˏˋ achilles' heel - chapter two ˎˊ˗

// eyes red, vast and volcanic //

You wish you could say the same thing when you struck up conversation with him. To say he was anything but a brute was naive of you, and the nagging voice in your mind was lecturing you for thinking that way. To be honest, you weren't really sure what to do when he lashed out at you so suddenly. All you were trying to do was get to your seat, nothing else. But the hot headed autocrat had other plans.

Apparently you were in his way. And after he had stated that fact he went off on a mini speech about how great he was and how everyone else wasn't.

"Out of my way extras," he would harshly declare, "If you're going to act so useless, at least be stones I can step off to reach my victory."

To you, he just sounded like an egotistical boy who takes pleasure in pushing others around. But surprisingly no one seemed to question his actions. As absurd as he was, it really seemed to affect most people. You could see the glinting fear in their eyes when he crouched to meet their gaze. When he gave that jagged smirk, satisfied with the dominance created. But what ticked you off most was the way he looked down on others. How he held his head slightly higher than everyone else's and loved to poke holes into every mistake made. There was a clear difference between confidence and arrogance, and he was an excellent example of what not to become.

The odd thing was that people still tried to befriend him, despite his threatening attitude. You could see an eccentric haired red-head approach him everyday, constantly wearing the same carefree expression. Without fail, he would flash him a welcoming smile and make his way over. It irritated you, to say the least. You couldn't see why anyone would ever want to befriend someone who was plain crude. But then again, you weren't someone who would go out of their way to desperately make friends. You enrolled to U.A for one purpose only; it wasn't going to change anytime soon.

But still, you couldn't help but observe as the energetic boy beamed at the proud dictator, polar opposites at their best. You could swear you saw rays coming from his smile. And the bright radiance he gave made you feel safe, comforted and soothed. For a while, you would find yourself to bask in his joyful tendencies, the whole atmosphere lightening up when he walked into the room. It puzzled you as to why someone so pure and great as him would want to stoop down to someone which no respect for anyone else but himself.

Bakugo didn't seem to appreciate the hospitality shown to him, though. Whenever the lively boy (who you now came to know as Eijiro Kirishima) would try to spark a conversation, all he would do is yank his head the opposite direction. The only responses given were silent glares that bore through you, or rough grunts if he was in a good mood. Another admirable trait of Kirishima was that he never faltered. Even when Bakugo gave him the harshest of glares, which would strike fear into most, the red-head did not feel threatened.

He was praiseworthy, you could give him that. Although, it didn't mean that he could escape the insults Bakugo carelessly threw around. Kirishima had coined the name 'Shitty Hair' from him because of his bright red tufts that were styled into spikes that shot above. However he didn't seem to take the nickname too heavily. And he snapped back with an offhand comment about how their hairstyles were similar. It impressed you. How he could put up with Bakugo's stand-off attitude. But then again, you lacked something Kirishima seemed to have an abundance of; patience.

You remember the first time that it happened. The ticking torment that Bakugo first released upon you. All you were trying to do was get to your seat. You didn't want any unnecessary attention, and he was more than you had bargained for at U.A. As you weaved your way through the maze of pristine desks, a rough grip caught you off balance and nearly yanked you to the ground. You whipped your head in fury to see who it was, only to meet a pair of blazing red eyes. They glowered at your form, you gladly returning the favour. A gruff voice, one that sounded like coarse asphalt, spit at you.

"The hell is a weakling like you doing here?" An athletically built boy had both his feet crossed onto his desk. His forest green pants sagged and hung loosely around his waist, revealing a peek of his-. No. You scolded yourself and tugged your mind out of the gutter. The frustration that brimmed inside you was more overpowering. How dare this obnoxious man speak to you like you were some sort of lesser specimen? A sever urge to wreck this man's ego and put him in his place highly tempted you. But unlike him, you weren't looking for a fight.

You tugged away from his grip and gave him a bitter glance. His lips curled into a cruel smirk in response before running his hands through ash blond locks. You knew you hated him the minute he flashed you that smile. Indulging in the fantasy of humbling him helped satisfy your need to square him right in his cocky, perfect face. Taking a deep breath, you composed yourself and bluffed an unbothered attitude.

"That is none of your business." You replied through gritted teeth. "Now I suggest you go bother someone else before I report you for harassment." You tilted your head innocently, and cracked a forced grin at him. Bakugo's sneer disappeared from view and he scoffed coldly. He faced away before going back to his own business. Taking it as a success, you made your way back to your desk, plopping down to take you study materials out.

A bubbly brunette to your right whispered to a frog-like classmate. Their hushed conversation consisted of panicked murmurs and what sounded to be a frog-like noise. You fiddled with the stationary placed upon your desk, twirling the mechanical pencil between your fingers seamlessly. You could pick up on their little discussion if it proved necessary, but didn't bother to. The last thing you needed was another headache. After a few more minutes, the brown-haired girl seen speaking before tapped your shoulder.

"You're L/N Y/N right?" You looked up, taken aback by the sudden interaction. She looked at you with wide eyes the shades of dark honey. She was so close to your face that you could see the black lines that traced in and out of her iris. Her frame was small, but not frail, and she had her arms crossed behind her. The frog girl had now returned to her previous business. She appeared uninterested in the topic but occasionally glanced back ever now and then. You answered the girl before you.

"Uh, yeah. That's me!" A smile shone from your features, this time it came naturally. She exhaled out a little before rubbing her hands together. The odd thing was that her fingers never touched.

"Wow! Well I gotta give it to you for holding your ground against that hot head over there!" She pointed her thumb in Bakugo's direction. You noticed how her fingertips had a slightly darker shade that appeared in a circular pattern. The boy subject to the attention caught her pointing, and gave her a teething snarl. You sheepishly laughed and thanked her. She also giggled with a playful tone before leaning in to whisper in your ear. "To be honest I thought that you were gonna get blown to pieces! We all thought a villain was in the making. Anyways, I'm Ochako Uraraka. Nice to meet you."

You laughed along with her, but this time it was more forced. It's not like she was wrong; there were aspects of Bakugo that could be seen as villainous. But something about him being a villain didn't sit right with you. It did not make sense to even yourself, as to why you would think that. Perhaps you thought he had potential to be better. Yeah, you mocked your own thought. Like that would happen anytime soon.

You only proved yourself right as the days went by. The relentless blonde showed great interest in afflicting annoyance and pain into you. For weeks on end, he would belittle you with insults and comparisons. Sometimes he would even take your things and hide them in the smallest and inconvenient places. One time, he had taken your whole backpack and swung it to the top of a tree to hang there overnight. Explaining to Aizawa Sensei why you didn't have your school supplies with you the next day was a complete nightmare, him staring you down with bloodshot eyes the whole time.

Granted, there were some days where he completely ignored you. When you would make eye contact in the hallways, he would always shove his gaze somewhere else and stuff his hands in his pockets. You were thankful for these times, if you were being honest, but they only came once in a blue moon. It was insufferable; trying to predict how he would treat you was maddening and drove you up the wall. Your patience was thinning fast, and every mishap that involved him only boiled your fiery blood even more.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

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[bulletproofscales]

Could you do a Yoonseok fic where they are uni teachers and they teach in the same room? Like when Yoongi's class finishes, Hoseok's class comes in after and Yoongi has a bad habit of overstaying to get a glimpse of the other cute teacher and they just end up falling in love somehow?

– hello!! i dont know why i had such a hard time writting this request???? like its simple its cute, its lovely. i just struggled so much to find a direction to take it form. so i really hope this fufilled your vision it came out supper fluffy!! i didnt make it feederism because the pormpt didnt specify, theres like hints to a chubby yoongi if you squint . anyways enjoy!!!

3.8k words

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30115707

Yoongi loves literature. 

He’d go as far to say, literature is his favorite thing in the world. 

No, he hasn’t read fiction since he was in highschool, and he hasn’t read fiction voluntarily ever.

What’s that got to do with anything?

When the university offered Yoongi this job as the professor in Thermodynamics, they had assured him his schedule wouldn’t clash with the other Calc II classes he gave during the week; always with a break in between. Which meant, the professor always has at least 2 hours in between his classes to use for research purposes. 

Yes… Research purposes. 

LIsten he hadn’t meant for it to get this far. Yoongi had only curiously stayed as he saw the new professor who was replacing the old lady who gave World Contemporary Literature after his class. The man looked young, about his age, delicate complexion, angelic face. 

His name is Jung Hoseok, and Yoongi had only talked to him for a couple of minutes, welcoming him to the university before leaving for his office. Though he was later very frustrated to find out, he could barely get any work done with his mind playing unhelpful reruns of his exchange with professor Hoseok. The most reasonable thing would be to try and not cross paths with him again for the sake of his investigation, right?

Yoongi is not nearly as strong-willed as he needs to be to accomplish that. 

In fact his time at the World Contemporary Literature class, only prolonged after that encounter. Waiting until the class was full to make his leave, or sometimes waiting until Hoseok started the class, or sometimes even staying for a bit at the front row before leaving. By now, his two bi-weekly classes of Contemporary Literature had become part of his routine. Staying at the back of the class where he admired the young man, as he walked around giving the class diligently; impressively capturing a large number of students who were now actively interested in it. 

Yoongi had been captured, in a different way. 

“You’re staying over this class too?” Hoseok’s voice is soft spoken, not upset but just lightly accusatory. It’s been weeks, of course he noticed Yoongi staying over every single class. And as startled as Yoongi is, he still considers himself lucky that the professor doesn’t sound annoyed. 

“I just–I really…” Think Yoongi, think of anything. “I’ve just really been trying to get into literature.” He manages to smile softly through his lie. And it seems to work, because Hoseok’s expression is widening and then grinning in excitement. 

“Who would have thought!” He beams cheerfully. “Well you’re free to come as many times as you want. Though I might have to start testing you along with the rest of my students?” Hoseok jokes, or at least Yoongi hopes he is joking. He just laughs it off and goes to his usual seat in the back, where he will be doing nothing except staring as professor Hoseok gave his class; without actually registering anything that’s being said. 

Lucky for Yoongi, the test never comes. But him and the literature professor grow closer, Hoseok starts inviting him out to have their lunch break together; since he knows for a fact Yoongi gave his class first thing in the morning and then stayed until near noon in Hoseok’s lecture. And just like had accepted defeat before, the older agrees without a second doubt.

In comparison to his typical lunches stuffed in the Sociology department with Namjoon and Seokjin, those bi-weekly 40 minutes he spends with Hoseok are… so refreshing. He remembers fearing that the literature professor would ask Yoongi what he thought of the class, but that wasn’t the case at all. 

Long forgotten were his heated debates about deeply rooted issues within humanity over lunch. Now Yoongi couldn’t wait until it was wednesday or friday, and he could just converse with Hoseok. Of course it started out like it typically would, professors talk, complaining about students, complaining about their superiors, how they got into teaching. But somehow Hoseok deemed him worthy, and just opened himself up for Yoongi. Nothing too dramatic, but the engineering professor found himself walking down the campus and being able to register what Hoseok’s favorite sitting spot was, under what specific tree; because he had told him. Or pushed himself to get weird stares by his colleagues for grabbing one donut too many because he recognized the strawberry filling ones that were Hoseok’s all time favorites and was considering dropping them off to him. 

It had been half a year, and by now, Yoongi could say he had opened up to Hoseok as well. He was more than happy to take his role as a listener to everything the younger had to say. As useless as it was, Yoongi would soak it up even when he didn’t mean to; and he had come to accept that. But, Hoseok didnt let it happen, always attentive, always considerate; asking Yoongi’s input into anything their conversation had decided to settle on. Asking for Yoongi’s favorite spots on campus, or what donuts did he reach for first when they brought some into the professors’ room. 

And Yoongi… he soaked up all that attention Hoseok gave him, too. 

It didn’t take long until they learnt the other’s schedule, sometimes using their own breaks to stop by the other’s class; just to see one another during the day. He’ll never forget the first time Hoseok came to visit as Yoongi was finishing one of his own classes, and widened at the different graphs and drawings that took over all the chalkboard. 

They were definitely friends, of course they were by now, but Yoongi couldn’t help but think that their friendship had something more special to it. Maybe it was the way the older just felt safe and soothed whenever he was talking with Hoseok, or the way Hoseok didn’t shy away from showing how much he enjoys Yoongi’s company. 

They were friends but they treated each other, just a little bit softer than the rest of their friends.

Which didn’t have to mean anything, of course. Different people have different dynamics and it just so happens Hoseok takes out the gentler side of the engineering professor. Just like it also happens to be Hoseok the one who takes out all the butterflies caged in Yoongi’s chest.

Well… maybe this different dynamic does mean something… To Yoongi at least; and he has come to accept that fact. He had reached an age where he didn’t really think he could get a crush again, yet here he is. 

Considering his feelings, he had felt a little hesitant to initiate anything with Hoseok outside their work hours; a little voice in his head telling him not to abuse the younger’s friendliness because of his own ill intentions. Hoseok made him happy as is, and he should be content with that. 

Surprisingly it’s the literature professor who, during the peak of exam season, offers to hang out and correct exams together. The little voice reminded Yoongi of his ‘ill intentions’ , but, like he keeps saying: he is simply a little weaker when it comes to Hoseok. And that first time, getting to see Hoseok outside their university, at the doorstep of his apartment which he had organized very last minute, casual clothes, beer pack in hand, gentle smile on his face. Yoongi feels himself fall in love all over again. 

Yeah… He is in love, by now he had come to accept it. 

Maybe he should be nervous, but he wasn’t, not really. How could he be when Hoseok had become his safe space? No amount of romantic feelings could change that. 

They laugh, they drink, they revise exams, they drink again, laugh some more; Yoongi finds out Hoseok is a lightweight. Third beer bottle is halfway done as the literature professor slurredly tries to write feedback onto the back of an exam.  

“You doing alright there?” Yoongi can’t help the amusement and endearment in his voice. 

All he gets is a slurred hum, and that’s all the response Yoongi needs. Still grinning as he stands up and comes back with a glass of water to Hoseok, who seems to be in some sort of trance staring at the universe. “Drink up, handsome.” He swears it was meant to sound teasing, but a blush betrays Yoongi spreading on his cheeks. 

Hoseok doesn’t seem to dwell on it, thank fuck; rather focuses on drinking his water slowly and in a way that is too endearing for Yoongi’s heart to bare. He watches as Hoseok downs the glass, trying hard not to focus on the way his Adam’s apple bobs up and down, stop staring at his neck in general, creep, and rather rubb the younger’s back. 

He finishes the glass and he leans his head on the table groaning. 

“I think you’ve done enough grading for tonight.” He chuckles enamoured. “Think you can take a ride home?” Hoseok still has his cheek squished against the table and eyes fully closed when he nods. “Ok, Seok, up.” He instructs softly, squatting down as his hands reach for Hoseok’s middle. Surprisingly cooperative, Yoongi manages to get the younger buckled up in the passenger seat of the car looking dazedly out the window. 

It's… pleasant, Yoong thinks. The silence is always comfortable with them, and he gets to drive around the deserted city with simply the knowledge that Hoseok is by his side. He makes sure to take his liberties stealing glances at the younger, his face angelical even when confusedly staring into nothingness. 

“Here we are.” Yoongi feels the need to announce it given they’ve stopped and the drunk man hadn’t made any sign of moving… He still hasn’t. “Uhm… Hoseok?” He offers trying his best not to smile a little amused at the situation. 

It looks like it physically costs effort for him to open his lips to speak. “Can you make sure… I actually go to bed?” His eyes barely meet Yoongi’s, quickly glancing somewhere else. It could be the older’s mind playing tricks on him, but even with the white street lights Hoseok’s cheeks still manage to have a beautiful pink tint. He is blushing, and it only makes Yoongi’s smile spread wider. 

“You don’t seem like the type of drunk to cause any trouble.” He questions with a smile that already gives away his answer to Hoseok’s request. 

“No, but I’ll fall asleep halfway into my apartment.” The younger man manages to smile lazily, dainty hand settles on his shoulder. And Yoongi feels himself swallowing thickly, no person should be allowed to look this good when they’re this pathetically drunk. 

“That adds up.” He chuckles getting out of the car and turning around to open Hoseok’s door for him. “Look at that, you unbuckled your own belt. Impressive.” Yoongi teases as he takes Hoseok’s hand to help him stand. 

“I’m drunk, not 5.” His playful tone and little smile makes the idea of Hoseok being annoyed at him less convincing. He is taller than Yoongi, yet he feels so much smaller when he is tiredly leaning his weight onto the older, a protective arm wraps around the literature professor as they walk inside Hoseok’s apartment complex. 

Yoongi tries his hardest not to blush when the doorman eyes the two oddly and Hoseok mumbles a sleepy: “He’s with me.” with his head buried deep into the engineering professor’s shoulders. And keeps it there all through the elevator ride… and all  through their slow walk around the hallway… and it’s still there as Hoseok clumsily tries to type in the security code for his door. 

He doesn’t want it to go away, the weight of the younger’s head on his shoulder giving him a sense of pride that makes Yoongi want to swell his chest up. But Hoseok keeps failing to type in his code, with his nose buried into Yoongi’s neck. 

“I think you might need to look at the keyboard to actually type the code.” His hand rubs up and down Hoseok’s side, with a smile that’s too fond; though the younger can’t see from where his head is resting. 

Hoseok groans. “Can’t we just be comfy?” The older specifically loves the way Hoseok assumes this position is comfortable for the two of them. 

“Wouldn’t we be much more comfortable on your bed?” Yoongi swears he didn’t mean to say that. And he knows if the other were sober, he definitely wouldn’t brush past it. 

Drunk Hoseok, however; he hums as if thinking it through “Yeah… We would be more comfy there…” He sounds so serious about it, like he was actually considering just staying here for the rest of the night, comfortably settled against Yoongi; the older can’t help giggling. Too cute. 

“Put the code, then.” He urges, big hand squeezing at where it is settled on Hoseok’s waist. 

It’s his first time going into the literature professor’s apartment, it is very neat, even if it’s filled to the brim with books. Yoongi tries to take in as much as he can, while still helping Hoseok balance himself as he takes off his shoes and coat: the hanged pictures, the bookshelves, the toys. Hoseok owns toys: stuffed animals and figurines adorning his couch and bookshelves; Yoongi is a little stunned as they walk by. He never would have guessed. 

“Room is at the end of the hallway.” Hoseok mumbles, not only his head falling back on the older’s shoulder, but his arms wrap around Yoongi’s middle. 

Right… He has to make sure Hoseok gets to bed. 

There’s a knot at Yoongi’s stomach, but he nods; slowly walking towards the closed door. Despite seeming impossible, his room has more bookshelves, bed adorned with a few more odd looking plushies. It’s so Hoseok, the older can help his heart as it does a little flip. The younger settles on his bed, sitting down before letting his back fall. Yoongi doesn’t know what to do with himself; staring feels a bit inappropriate, yet he doesn’t know if leaving him in such a state is much of an option. 

“Should I…-” 

“I just sleep in underwear.” 

They both speak at the same time. Yoongi’s cheeks blush a furious red, Hoseok seems unfazed. He already managed to get the younger to bed. After all this time he had meant Yoongi had to tuck him in?!

“O–Oh, okay.” He doesn’t know what else to say. Then, similar to a toddler, Hoseok raises up his arms. It takes Yoongi a full second to realize; and when he does, his face gets simpossibly redder. With timid hands, he slides Hoseok’s shirt off his torso delicately. Yoongi is pretty sure he isn’t breathing, but he can’t bring himself to do so, the moment too fragile for him to possibly ruin it. The little voice in his head tells him it’s immoral to stare, but he does anyway; admiring Hoseok’s lightly tanned, slim body. 

It seems he is Yoongi only one of the two with the professor-chubs, huh. 

His blatant staring is interrupted by Hoseok popping his torso heavily onto the bed, legs extending forward in Yoongi’s direction. The older feels his heart stop completely. Yoongi is so thankful that Hoseok isn’t sitting upright so he can’t see the tremble of his hands as they hover above the button of his jeans. 

He has to hurry, otherwise Hoseok will get suspicious, and he’ll notice Yoongi making things weird. 

He feels like a teenager all over again.

He undoes the button, slowly pulling the zipper down. Yoongi’s slim fingers slide barely underneath the waistband of his jeans and start tugging down. He tries his best to be gentle, but with Hoseok’s dead weight on the bed it’s a little hard; college professors aren’t known for their strength. So he makes the younger’s body rock back and forth on the bed until he gets the pants out of the pool by his calves and finally takes it out. 

Huh, Yoongi totally would have considered Hoseok a boxer’s guy.

He somehow feels he shouldn’t say that outloud, or shouldn’t hint at paying attention to Hoseok’s underwear at all. 

Or maybe, he is just overestimating drunk Hoseok. 

“All done, you just need to wash your teeth.” He says simply instead, and the man plopped down gorans dramatically. His thighs even clench at the loudness of it, not that Yoongi was staring. 

“I need to get up?! Again?” He looks up at Yoongi with a disbelieved expression, like suddenly brushing your teeth was the most ridiculous idea anyone could propose. Yoongi has to hold back a laugh. “Why didn’t you make me go brush before I laid down!?” He sounds so insulted but his lips have the softest pout to them. 

“You plopped on the bed before I got the chance to, genius.” Yoongi finds himself rolling his eyes, all the tension that had accumulated in his body minutes before had dissipated. Even with so much of the expanse of Hoseok’s sin staring back at him, so much so quickly that Yoongi had never gotten to see; the man in front of him is still the safest place. “Come on, Seokie, up.” It feels like a dejavu from getting him out of Yoongi’s apartment. 

Hoseok’s hands are so dainty in his own, he pulls him up gently; chests bumping together softly. Soft chuckles as their noses brush, Yoongi can feel his own adoring smile. “Careful.” He mumbles, his hands squeezing into Hoseok’s. All the response he gets is a grumble, eyes barely opened as they stare directly at Yoongi, shamelessly. 

As sleepy as his gaze is, and as cute as the pout on his lips is, Yoongi can’t help it but feel somewhat intimidated, there’s something blatant about the way the younger is looking at him. And even if he can’t put a name to it, it still manages to make Yoongi shiver the slightest bit. 

He wastes no more time of Hoseok being forced to stand and rather guides him slowly towards the bathroom. Graceful Hoseok, elegant, diligent inside the classroom, that same man is looking down at his feet with a concentrated pout and frown as he takes heavy steps following Yoongi. It’s endearing enough for a giggle to slip out past his lips. 

The bathroom is only a little cramped but, it’s not like it matters; Yoongi was already holding Hoseok close to him already. Lets the younger lean against him as he has to balance his sleepy legs into picking up toothbrush and toothpaste. Yoongi allows himself to stare, even if it’s quiet and obvious he is doing so. There’s something so domestic about the sight, he can’t tear his eyes away; exposing himself through the evident adoration in his stare. 

Hoseok doesn’t pay him any attention, washing his teeth with sleepy long blinks. Only noticing Yoongi through the mirror once he is washing his lips, sleepy as he straightens back up, and when he is back to leaning against the older, he turns his head to face him. Face looking sleepy and ethereal as ever. 

And Yoongi must have gotten too caught up staring at the sleepy glimmer of Hoseok’s eyes because nothing could have prepared him for the slow, soft meeting of the younger’s lips on his. 

Hoseok kisses him like he is the most precious thing in the world; a gentle peck that makes his eyes flutter close relaxed. Not Yoongi though, his eyes are wide like plates until the younger separates. 

His mouth opens and closes a few times before he manages to speak. “Why….Why did you do that?” Yoongi has a hard time finding his own voice, opting for a soft whisper. Part of him thinking this was all just an elaborate hallucination. 

“I didn’t want to do it with bad breath!” He whines like he was being antagonized for doing something completely normal; and not kissing your friend/coworker. 

Yoongi doesn’t know what to do with himself, or with the Hoseok laying against his body, staring at him expectantly. He feels his face begin to heat up with what is most probably a deep blush. “Uhm… Well I appreciate that.” He tries to say as neutral as possible, getting his hold back on Hoseok to get him to his bed. 

The younger is pliant in Yoongi’s hold, letting himself be dragged as he tiredly lets his head fall against Yoongi’s chest. “You appreciated the kiss too though, right?” Hoseok’s voice is gentle, unsure. And it probably doesn’t help that the older one takes a second to reply; too busy trying to control the tug at his heartstrings. 

He is back to guiding the younger out of his own bathroom, only replying once he manages to set Hoseok down on the bed as gracefully as he can; only then, when worried self conscious eyes are staring up at Yoongi. 

“I do appreciate it, so much.” He mumbles gently with a gummy smile spreading his lips softly. And Hoseok looks so visibly relieved by this, it earns a chuckle from the older. Yoongi is leaning over, hand pressed to the pillow so close to Hoseok’s soft locks it could just– fuck it. 

He runs his hands through the younger’s hair, just to see the way his eyes close relaxed by it. “I’ll get going, yeah?” A little voice in his head urges him to not leave Hoseok’s side, to stay until he gets another kiss from those addictively soft lips. 

But another, more rational, voice tells him he’ll have all the time in the world to do that. 

Hoseok looks unconvinced though, it takes an endeared smile and a kiss at his temple for him to look somewhat pleased. “Fine.” Yoongi has to hold himself back from leaning to peck the pout off his lips. “Will I see you tomorrow?” 

“Text me when you wake up.” 

Yoongi can feel how different everything is from the moment he watches Hoseok walk towards him at the little campus cafe. His eyes are a little groggy stil, and a pout is still on his lips; he looks like he has a hangover, basically. 

And Yoongi is still so, so stupidly enamoured by this man. 

“Morning.” 

“How are you so upbeat? You aren’t even a morning person.” Hoseok grumbles, obviously cranky, taking a seat beside Yoongi instead of infront of him. Their shoulders touch as well as their thighs. 

“I know this may come as a surprise to you, but not all of us get drunk from a couple of beers.” Yoongi teases softly, turning to side eye him. 

“I’m not sorry.” He smiles turning to face the older. Their noses brush similarly to how they did last night. Now it should be different though, the morning fills the small cafe of busy people trying to get on with their day, not private, not imitate, not one bit romantic. They don’t need it to be, though; they managed to fall in love in the simplest of ways; through Yoongi’s obvious love for literature.

[icicleteeth]

So I wrote a tiny ESO AU with @your-holy-mountain​ ‘s Finn and my dunmer Servyn for the laffs and because I got emotional about Finn being a good friend because Tii is a good friend of mine enjoy the trash under the cut...

(Disclaimer though, this isn’t going to be super well written at all, as it’s just an off the cuff little ficlet alsjfdj)

The early morning rabble of Mournhold’s central trading plaza sings with the hustling and bustling of a city which never sleeps nor rests--men, mer, beast, automata, and sometimes tamed daedra fill the streets in a near shoulder to shoulder crowd, all of which with important work for important people to attend to, though none of which called themselves nor anyone else by their real names, as such work wasn’t so important as to interrupt the annual weekly celebration of the Jester’s Festival--an honored holiday amongst all of Tamriel where Khajiiti named Kitty Kitty Bang Bang and Bosmer named Big Meat Indulgence address eachother as such unabashedly, as if it were completely normal and expected to do so.

Servyn wished he could join in on such festivities. He quite hated his name and would usually revel in any excuse to change it (even if temporarily)...but there wasn’t much use in changing one’s name when said one is a street Dunmer. He never had any reason to give anyone his real name, let alone a silly made up one. Most just called him Beggar. He supposed “Beggar” was a better name than “Servyn”, but it would feel odd to share the same name as every other beggar in Mournhold (of which there were many). 

He lies curled up on the ground against the blacksmith’s plaza. Many filter in and out without noticing him much, though this particular spot gave a perfect view of the city’s wayshrine, where those coming in from all over Tamriel will inevitably see him, as the blacksmith’s is right across from the shrine’s entryway. Servyn looks to his tattered cap a few feet away, and makes a heartless effort to reach for it without having to get up (this being for a lack of motivation, he tells himself. Not because he doesn’t trust his legs to give out the moment he tries to use them). He’s able to brush the tip of it, but gives up trying to check it. Probably no coins in there anyway. At least watching the large guild stores haggle with passing knights and mages and trading goods he could never hope to behold in his life brought him some amusement. The aforementioned humorous names exchanged while doing so helped a bit, too.

Something was sniffing--a breathy heavy sniffing--at him. Servyn had managed to shift between laying on his side facing the streets to instead face the wall some time ago, which he’d done so when watching a trader present a whole roasted bantam guar became too much to handle. This seemed like a good idea at the time, though it meant he couldn’t see what was currently invading his personal space; not that this was too unusual. Street animals were just as numerous as street mer, and even they weren’t desperate enough to gobble up filthy urchins with hardly any meat on their bones. Just let it happen and it’ll go away. 

“What’s that you found, Dandelion?”

At the sound of a man’s voice close behind him, Servyn twitches and sweats. Okay, so it isn’t a nix hound. That’s fine. Right? He’ll take one look at me, reel back in repulsion for a few seconds, and let me go--

Before he’s able to finish that thought, he’s suddenly off the ground, for whatever was sniffing at him decided to pick him up and carry him by his shirt. The first thing he sees is the large bear paws--bear paws!--shuffling below him on the ground. The second thing he sees is an even larger Breton man in a black tunic and huge muscles adorned with intricate tattoos standing before him.

This is it, then! This is where I die, right here and right now! Be it by the hands of a strongman or in the belly of a bear...or both! All he could muster is quick desperate breathing, for it was useless to cry for a guard. They wouldn’t care to see a beggar go, anyway.

As expected, the Breton reels back with a look of surprise--though this surprise doesn’t seem like one of disgust.

“Wow! You found a baby grampa, Dandie! Amazing!”

Grampa? He was hardly past his early twenties! Not that he was offended by the mixup--his hair is naturally white, and the unkempt nature of his facial hair could certainly fool anyone into thinking he was an old man. The uncontrollable shaking in fear surely ought to tell the man he was far from a grizzled elder. Now you’re just giving him more reason to see you as easy prey!

“Oh, but will you please let him go, Dandie? Most people don’t like being held by a bear’s maw--I know, I don’t get it either. But it is what it is!”

Just as commanded, the bear releases Servyn, who falls to the ground like dead weight. Were it not for his still raspy and frantic breathing, one could easily assume he were already dead.

“Sorry about that, little elf! Dandie likes magical things, because she’s magical too! But that means you’re magical, right?” 

Not really. He may know a good deal more magic than the average street rat, but it was only simple magic he picked up from beginner’s spell books in the public library. He likely paled in comparison to the city’s many wizards and Telvanni mages. Surely this adventurous looking man has seen a good number of better mages to gawk at.

“Finnegan Stormborne, at your service!” he bows, and squeaks “and Dandelion, at yours as well!” in his best (and frankly impressive) falsetto. The bear still seemed uncomfortably interested in Servyn, but he was powerless to run away. He didn’t want to talk to the stranger, but decided maybe if he engaged in small talk with the man, then he may be generous enough to not let his bear tear him to shreds.

“Is...that your Jester’s name, sera?”

The Breton blinks, though is silent for only a moment before bursting into hearty laughter.

“Ha! I could never be a real jester, no. They’re funny on purpose, you see.”

“I...do?” The intentions of the Breton named Finnegan were lost on him. It didn’t seem like information--which was good, because Servyn wasn’t like the other beggars in that way. It didn’t seem like he simply wanted an easy target to bully, as he hasn’t done so--yet. It couldn’t be money, because surely the last place you’d look for extra gold is--

“Say, you dropped your hat!” 

Oh. Maybe it is money after all. Servyn doubted anything was in it anyway, but on the off chance there was...well. He supposed it wasn’t the first time he’d resigned himself to another night of sleeping hungry, though he didn’t have much time to lament about this, as he feels something placed on his head, and a handful of coins presented to him.

“These were inside it, too. Best hide ‘em, you never know when the gold-eating rats decide to come out...”

The what?

With great effort, Servyn sits up to better address Finnegan (though slightly wilting at the man’s towering height).

“There are no gold-eating rats here, sera. Or anywhere...at least, I don’t think so...” He cuts his own sentence off quickly, fearing the man would snap at him for talking back.

“Oh! That’s just what I call tax collectors. But eh, what does sera mean, by the by? Do you mean to say “serenade”? Cus I’m always in the mood for a song, and I don’t do so well, being tempted with a good time!”

Now it’s Servyn’s turn to blink. Finn, on other hand, seems jovial as a drunken Nord.

“Yeah, you know what? What do you say to a night in, Dandelion? I’ll get you a good roast, sing some songs...hey! Why don’t you join us, Dunmer? Dandie seems to really like you!”

Now the Breton must really be out of his mind. Him? In a tavern? With other people, who will probably sneer at the presence of a vagrant in their establishment? Alongside a stranger, no less!? The worst part was said stranger seemed genuine in his offer--but it didn’t matter. He shouldn’t go. He can’t go.

“Erm! I’d be happy to join you, Sir Finnegan, but my legs aren’t very strong, and I don’t think I will be able to stand...nor do I think tavern patrons would stand me, if you understand what I’m saying. You’d best be off on your own, the local tavern is that way--”

In an instant, Servyn, for the second time, is lifted off the ground; this time in the rock-hard muscular arms of Finnegan (a feat not difficult for him at all, as Servyn’s meager height of under five feet tall and malnourished frame required no more effort to lift than a sack of potatoes). This time he does yelp, though it comes out more akin to a frightened squeak.

“If that’s all that’s stopping you, then I can help with that! By the way, you can call me Finn. Now, where’d you say the nearest tavern was? That way? Come on, Dandelion!”

Servyn wasn’t sure which was worse: watching Finn dance the Lava Foot Shuffle directly on the Flaming Nix Inn’s hot coal stove, or watching Dandelion gnaw at roasted salmon. Neither one helped calm the frantic anxiety for his new friend‘s wellbeing...or the ravenous appetite of his long-unfed stomach. Finn notices this, and hops off the coals for a moment.

“Hey, are you alright? If you tell me your name, I can sing a song about you!”

In truth, Servyn wasn’t really paying attention to Finn. In an attempt to look somewhere else, his eyes ended up settling on the large cauldron of duck soup cooking behind the innkeeper’s counter. He didn’t notice the bit of drool escaping his mouth, but Finn does, with a sad “Oh.”

Before Servyn knew it, a bowl is presented to him, with Finn kneeling down a bit to look him in the eyes. “I’m sorry, friend. I should’ve known you must be famished, being on the streets and all. Do you like this stuff?”

Were Servyn in a different position, he’d beat himself up for such rudeness, as he didn’t wait to ask before taking the bowl from Finn’s hands without a single word and wolfing the soup down in a hunched up ball on the bench. Finn, however, is more than happy to let his friend be, and return to his dancing, only turning around to say: “I paid the chef for as many bowls as you want, so don’t be shy if you want more!”

Three bowls and an unceremonious belch later, Servyn lies sleepily against Dandelion, who situated herself behind the mer and quite enjoys acting as a large fluffy pillow while she dozes a bit herself. Finn, in his never-ending zeal, still happily dances amongst the coals whilst singing a new song about a Nordic king in a far-off kingdom. However, once noticing his ursine companion give a big toothy yawn, he stops singing.

“Ah, suppose you’re right, Dandie. It’s getting late. Hey innkeep! I’ll have two rooms for the night, put it on my tab, will you?” He makes to leap gracefully off the coals, but trips on a particularly odd-shaped stone and falls with a thud and a nonchalant “Ow.” Servyn perks up, immediately worried for Finn, and is not calmed down despite the Breton getting up easily and without distress.

“The second room I bought is for you, Dunmer. You don’t have to take it, but I thought it’d be better than going back to the streets. It’s no big expense on me, either way.”

There wasn’t time to worry about that right now. Struggling to get up, Servyn manages to stand, though with wobbly legs and a belly that felt much heavier than he was used to.

“Sir Finn, your arm..!” He points to a raw patch of skin which endured direct contact with the coals, and is now a large splotch of pink. Finn shrugs.

“Oh, don’t worry about that! I’ll take care of it later. But you look exhausted, friend. I can carry you to your room, if you’d like. Or the streets, I guess...if that’s what you want...”

Without thinking, Servyn trudges over to Finn, half of his energy focused on not collapsing, and the other half dedicated to channeling a healing spell. He all but collapses into Finn’s arms, but is able to cast the spell on the burned skin, and watches with relief as it mends right before his eyes--and Finn’s who stares in awe.

“Say, I knew you were magical! My arm feels good as new!” He hugs Servyn a bit tighter than he’d like, but thankfully the man has enough foresight to not put his usual effort into the embrace. He now cradles his friend, who looks to the floor sheepishly.

“It was just a simple spell, and was the least I could do, given the kindness you’ve shown me...” 

“Simple? I’d say that’s a real talent you have there! Have you tried joining the local Mages Guild? I bet they’d love to have you!”

Of course not. Someplace as prestigious as a guild would turn him away the moment they saw him, with his dirty untamed hair and filthy ragged tunic and patchwork pants. Finn was the weird one for not doing the same. Why didn’t he do the same?

Knowing he expects and answer, Servyn simply shakes his head. Finn makes his way up the stairs, still with the mer in tow, who doesn’t object or ask to be taken back to the streets.

“You should! I work for them sometimes. Sort of. I find these weird books all over the place that they’re interested in, but lots of mages are real stuck up. They complain and say things like “Finnegan, why is it covered in swamp stains?” Maybe because I found it in a swamp! You wouldn’t care if I gave you a book I found in a swamp, right?”

Servyn once again shakes his head, and mutters “a book is a book, sera. It’s not your fault it happened to end up in a swamp.”

“Right!? See, you understand, and I bet you would call me Finn instead of Finnegan. Mages do that to sound regal, but it’s too formal for me! Wish I had a friend in the guild who wasn’t so stuck up...like you!”

They reach a door. Finn pushes it open with his shoulders, and lays Servyn on the single bed. He blushes a bit--at the softness of the mattress and blankets so foreign and long forgotten after years of sleeping rough, and at the seemingly never-ending kindness of the Breton man.

“I’ve got to tuck Dandelion in now, but I’m in the room just across from yours. You can knock if you need me.”

Finn turns around, but before he’s able to leave the room, a soft voice interrupts him.

“S-Servyn! My name is Servyn. So you know who to...um, send the bill to. I don’t know when I can pay it back but--”

“Servyn, eh? I like it! Now I know exactly how to introduce you to the Magister! This is fantastic! Thanks for telling me, Servyn. But I’ll let you sleep now, okay? We’ll need all our strength for tomorrow, after all!”

The door clicks shut before Servyn is able to retort back. He isn’t sure whether he’s decided to give up on understanding Finn or understanding why he let the Breton sweep him up into a tavern room to begin with--all he knew was he was tired, much so that he didn’t want to think about it anymore. He could hear the man from the hallway baby-talking (presumedly to his bear) but didn’t feel at all annoyed by this break in silence. Finn’s voice truly exude a warmth so rarely heard, even from the kindest Temple priests. Servyn couldn’t bring himself to complain, and felt odly...okay with him knowing his true name, and he knowing Finn’s, and this sickeningly sweet okay-ness that he never thought he’d ever feel again lulls him into a gentle sleep. 

But if anyone else asks, my name is Captain Sujamma Guzzler.

[ambitionsource]

S2 Rewatch - Maggie’s Take [ 206 ]

now we’re talking folks. now we’re gettin into the juice

Favorite scene

This is an episode that has a lot of like... super strong standout scenes amidst an otherwise quick pace, so it’s tough to decide. The RL scene in the teacher’s lounge and their exchange that establishes their “I don’t have to do anything” motif are both strong contenders, as is the De La Minkus scene in Eric’s office and Farkle’s apology to Riley. However, I’m gonna have to go with Lucas’s imaginary meltdown monologue. I just... the culture of that... how he lists all of the people who are important to him without realizing it (Dasher, Isa, Jack, Riley), the tension and drama of it, the sharpness of the delivery, Lucas literally admitting “desire” for Riley, all of his turbulent emotion in 2A being condensed down into one 90-second explosion of vulnerability... just... so good. I want. To see it.

Favorite performance

Lots of good contenders this episode, and I have a soft spot for the undeniable iconic quality of “Defying Gravity” in any context, but I think the winner has to be “Agnes.” I love that song so much, and it fit so perfectly while highlighting just how low Farkle had gotten yet in a blasé, insidious way. Like the moment where he “shoots” his reflection in a window, but breezes past it before we can even really process it, and then how he leaves the stage blankly and the ghost light clicks off to end the episode -- symbolic, as technically ghost lights are meant to remain on at all times (as their purpose is to provide light when you first enter a dark auditorium).

Favorite character (within context of the episode)

Farkle is the winner for me this episode. He’s so... off his game, a flat comparison to the specter of his former self, and that’s such an interesting interplay in my opinion. Also, I love him in his awful frumpy cardigan not giving a shit anymore. He has a myriad of standout scenes, like his apology to Riley, him attempting to talk to Maya, the scene with Isa in Eric’s office. He delivers succinct lines that really pack a punch, like his offhand final remark to Jack that nothing ever changes, or his explanation as to why Lucas will die if he tries to escape, or his punctuation mark on the philosophy discussion wishing that all of his present company, his not-friends, get into heaven (notably excluding himself). He has my favorite performance in “Agnes,” he’s on the crux of the biggest arc in the first half of the season... and he deserves it, after we made him literally face-plant into the stage and get a bloody nose in the first five minutes of the episode. Sorry, little rich boy. You’ll recover...

Favorite line(s)

“Look, you’re doing exactly what Burgess told you to do, keeping your head low and falling into line, and right now, that’s all you can do. But this too shall pass. You know, one day, we’re going to look back on how stressed we were about all of this stuff, and it’s gonna be hilarious because we’ll realize that none of it really mattered. What mattered was that we got through it, and we got through it together.” –Asher Garcia

“Here’s the read. [ to Maya ] You’re hogging the spotlight. [ to Lucas ] You’re in the way. [ to Zay ] You’re so focused on the dancing, you’re off key. [ to Riley ] You’re a pushover, now quite literally. [ to Isa ] And you picked this song, which I’m surmising has something to do with whatever internal baggage you’ve got going on right now, but it’s whiny and abrasive and yet still too difficult for Lucas. So we’re gonna fail! Buh-bye.” –Farkle Minkus

“Can we do a song where we just… stand still?” –Lucas James Friar

“Oh, me? I’m getting out of here. This is useless, I hate this energy, and I have places and people I would much rather be with right now. So peace out, drop outs. I’m gone.” –Zay Babineaux

“We were good.” –Riley Matthews, about her and Lucas James Friar

“[ The stage isn’t ] meant to be defiled either, but y’all do that every week when you basically pee on it to claim your territory.” –Lucas James Friar

“Oh, sure. Totally. The queen of the techies wants to befriend the free-falling Icarus of the performers, someone she so strongly dislikes she once referred to him as “the spoiled produce of people.” Or, alternatively, described interacting with him like “stepping on a LEGO brick without shoes.”” –Farkle Minkus

An underrated moment

There are a lot of good ones this episode! Lucas climbing around the fake trees to find a place to perch, Riley resting her head on Zay at the end and him patting her head affectionately, Charlie and Zay’s flirty conversation about french fries, Lucas shielding Riley with his whole body from Isadora’s pillow offense, the ridiculous romantic tension between RL in the teacher’s lounge, Maya yoinking Jack’s coffee right out of his hands when he rescues them. But I think my favorite always and forever will be when Riley finds the little love note Dylan left behind for Asher (which we see him then writing a new one in 209 without Asher noticing). It just, as it says in the episode, encapsulates that there’s still love and joy and comfort in the world even when things feel so hard. And it’s also impressive that DA can leave such an impression even when they’re not really in the episode -- a testament to how important they’ll grow over the rest of the season!

First impression vs your reread impression

I was right when writing my 205 reread reax that 206 does move fast! Because of the condensed cast and bottle-episode quality, there’s an incredibly fluid and efficient vibe to the whole thing. I tend to write this episode off in terms of content due to the episodes that follow it that are so heavy and chock full of major moments, but then I reread and I remember why this episode ranked so high for both Esther and I when working on the season. It’s a good episode. It’s engaging, it’s fascinating exploring that group of characters, it has so many small gems of moments... it’s good. I feel confident saying that. Now we’ll see how the sluggers hold up coming around the bend...

[yojeongin]

small written portion under images ★彡

sleepless

masterlist in bio

[pt.7: so sad, so sad]

pairings: ugrapper!yoongi x coworker!reader

genre: sex shop au, sm au, crack humor, fluff, angst, and smut

a/n: listen to so far away when reading this part 😔

You could hear the chatter from the living room. It was Yuta and Namjoon agreeing to leave your apartment just so the well needed intimacy with Yoongi could take place without the worry of having to muffle your cries (and hopefully his).

It hadn’t always been like this. Your parents never really asked much from you before attending university. It wasn’t until you became friends with third year, Mani Choi that their expectation begun to actually form and their want of perfection coming from you to exist.

You couldn’t blame Mani herself, she’d always show discomfort when your parents tried comparing you to her or simply tried to defend you with the repetitive excuse of: “Everyone in their own have different ambitions and I’m glad ours are nowhere near similar.” Of course it would only be swept under the rug as they praised her dreams and plans in life.

It’s rather useless to even try and compare Mani to you. Mani’s dreams consist of helping children in need of education, to travel and give the aide they deserved— and as much as you adored her dedication and kindness, you just couldn’t bear being compared to that. It was too perfect, she was too perfect whilst you— well, there’s nothing to say.

You didn’t have any dreams and it isn’t worth trying to remember the ones you used to have as they’ve been long dead and thrown into a pile of oblivion. As hard as you tried, nothing in life was worth it. Everything you did was for the purpose of surviving and living the monotone life you’ve carried for ever since you can remember.

Perhaps that’s why you cling to Yoongi. Seeing him always come in tired and hungry, prominent bags under his eyes, and most of all— works hard to create what he loves: music.

Being with him wasn’t anything regular. There was always the thrill of the unexpected. Despite your relationship within the confines of work and the public eye— Yoongi and you were closer than believed so.

When you can’t sleep, he’s on the other line lulling you to sleep. If he needs inspiration or help with lyrics, he’s at your apartment with whatever street food he can find at such hours. When it’s clear that he isn’t taking care of himself or his body, you’d always make sure to be where he’s at no matter what time or location.

You were there for him and he was there for you.

The mere thought of having him being distant due to the ‘what if’ of Mani only caused a heavy weight to collapse against your chest. The lump in your throat not daring to leave as you held back whatever tears you had.

“Bimbo, open the door. Please…” his voice was soft and tired, raspy at that. It was obvious he hadn’t slept much. “Give me a second.” You’d speak as loud as you could (a mere whisper.)

Standing up from the cold tile floor, hitting your elbow on accident against the counter. Not daring to look at the mirror, you unlocked the door opening a bit just to his tired pale face.

He didn’t smile at you nor did you. The comfort of knowing it was just the two of you was fine within the silence of the apartment. All the lights excluding the bedroom lights and restroom where off. Yoongi sighed looking at you moments away from releasing all you had. “Come on.” His voice was groggy and his arm stretched to hold your shoulder.

His touch was soft as always. Comforting. That’s how it felt when you were with Yoongi. Peace and comfort was the only thing that filled your tired persona. In all honesty being with Yoongi felt like the greatest thing one could experience. The definition of happiness in which you wished to live your whole life.

It’s more than just that, but the rest can’t be explained. It has to only be experienced.

“Your shorts are in the last drawer.” Yoongi had sat you down on the bed as the two of you went inside. Looking to where you pointed at, he only nodded walking towards the drawers. His face demonstrated surprise, yet his lips formed into a playful smirk seeing how neatly his clothes were stored in the drawer. “Stop stealing my stuff.” He’d playfully hint, a smile growing at your lips as your head hung low, hair covering your embarrassment.

“Stop attacking me. It’s not my fault you always leave them behind everywhere.” Yoongi never seemed to remember his items if they didn’t hold a important value to him. In other words he’d never leave his journal behind.

From all the times he stayed at your apartment— many of his sweaters, caps, and even shirts were left behind making Yuta tease you despite knowing nothing happened.

Yoongi loved seeing the way he made you become flustered, his heart couldn’t take it when you’d become shy from just a simply touch from him. Regardless of his obvious demonstrations of affection and interest, he felt like there was nothing he could offer you. Yoongi was fixated on the idea that his ambitions wouldn’t allow him to treat you the way you were meant to. Along that he saw himself as less compared to what you already had. It was a cold case of lady and the tramp. Whatever he could offer, you’d already have.

But most importantly you both were stubborn to admit true feelings. Something Yuta, Eunwoo, Hoseok, and Namjoon took as an advantage for teasing and indirectly push either of you to talk about it.

“Close your eyes. I’ll sleep in the restroom if you peak.” Joking was the coping mechanism you both had, anger was never something either of you liked expressing and if you did, it was only through facial expression that made others stay back, but till this day you still had to see either angry.

“Just one peak, Yoongi.” You’d tease, hands covering your eyes and back facing him. “No.” Giggling you nodded, laying on your side with both hands still on your eyes.

It was awfully silent and the ruffling of his jeans seemed to be accompanying the AC. Staying in that position you could only remember the words your mother threw at you. The pain rushing back and anger of comparison getting to you once again.

Getting lost in those thoughts you didn’t realize he was done and the feeling of arms wrap around you with the bed sinking caused for your hands to become damp with the tears you harshly contained due to how hard your palms pressed at your eyes. “Was it your mom again?” He’d whisper against your ear, his warm breath caressing your ear lobe and his voice only making you come closer to him.

Your face was pressed against his chest, the musk of sweat and cologne intoxicating your senses. He went back to the Shed, that’s why he was down. It could only mean LGP was behind his own despondence. Nonetheless you felt comfort with being this close to him. It was new, other times he’d only hold you when the conversation was done and at that, it was a simple hug, maybe sometimes you’d wake up in each other’s arms but it was only expected when loneliness got the best of you both.

“What did she say?” His volume was normal now, your breathing trying to stay calm as you recollected all that she said, but the mere memory made you tongue tied leaving the silence to speak for you. “She’s just so… so demanding!” The crack at your voice made him pull you closer to him, his grip tightening for comfort and protection. “It’s always the same thing. To be like those she wants me to be. To follow their example and be them, but I don’t want to be them… at this point I hate them.” Your voice faltered as the sentence progressed and a sob left your lips as your hands held his shirt.

The hand that wasn’t holding you, stroked your hair, cooing for relaxation. “Earlier this week she sent me a list of companies I have to work at. Choose one and settle down once in for all. Quit the shop and force myself into the corporate world—“ your hand had left his shirt alone, moving under his arm to hold him as well. It took Yoongi by surprise, but the comfort of being held by you was enough to make him forget his own problems.

“I was supposed to meet with them today and go over my top three but I didn’t even spare a glance at the list. That’s why she called, wondering why I hadn’t visited them; she has this stupid rule of not letting anyone she doesn’t know into the apartment so when she heard you guys she went hysterical. I tried convincing her it was only Yuta— at some point I couldn’t handle her nagging and made her even more angry when I said I was tired of the treatment… I think at this point she’s disowned me.” Yoongi’s chest ached horribly thinking he was the cause of your pain.

A lump formed in the back of his throat and tears threatened to fall. From the times he’d comfort you, he had never seen you cry. You handled your emotions perfectly well so seeing you so tired in front of him only caused for him to give in. “I’m so sorry… I really a—“ “It’s not your fault.” At this point your body pressed against his, your arm draped around his torso as you held him like he held you. A comforting intimate hug.

“You’d think this is bad but I could just imagine the horror if she found out of all the things she’s caused within me. Doubtful that she’d care for my state of mind and only call me ungrateful like many other times… sometimes I envy y/sister/n. She never had to go through this, but thinking about it, she voluntarily obtained the life they deem perfect.” His hand against your hair, holding you as tight as he could. Letting you go was not an option and you were thankful you had him in your life.

Sighing, Yoongi thought of your words. It wasn’t as different from what he had to go with his father. After his mother left, his father tried forcing him into the clean cut perfect life, one that didn’t include music or the pains of it.

His brother followed the same path as your sister, yet the difference was that Yoongi’s father was neither disappointed or pleased with his brother’s decision. The only importance was that he was living a comfortable and decent life unlike Yoongi.

The last news Mr. Min had heard about Yoongi was the drunken voicemail in which he just told him to fuck off and prove him that he’d accomplish his dreams.

Dreams. That seems to be the reoccurring topic.

“What happened at the shed?” Getting him out of his thoughts, Yoongi shook his head, eyes shutting. “Same old as well. That bastard buying off the crowd and making me look like fool every time I go up against him— I don’t understand his fixation on making my life hell. Maybe if he worked for what he wants then he would understand why I didn’t sell my work to him.” Your head slightly tilted upwards, admiring the features you could see.

A smile formed seeing his face but the thought of how painful it must feel to be discredited for your hard work, only caused a frown on your lips. “The way I spill my emotions into these songs can’t just be given away when you’re presented with stacks of money, y/n. Those songs are my struggles, my pain, my state of mind, my fatigue, and eventually the end of me… I haven’t dragged these weights of pain for years just to give them away.” Your arm left his torso, hand caressing his cheek as he spoke, making him melt against your touch.

“The pain of the rich always seem to amuse me. It’s valid but at some points but at others— it’s evident they’ve never heard no. Despite my lack of struggles I’d understand that something that big is not to be given away at all.” Yoongi smiled as he heard you, his thumb caressing your clothed waist. “Your pains revolve around the unknown, y/n. You don’t know what you want in life and you see it bleak, but you also don’t want the cookie cutter lifestyle that can easily be handed to you… and I appreciate that because many would easily take it— but you want the feeling of being alive and thriving on your own terms, and I love that about you.” You felt your breath hitch at his words, your hand only holding his face rather than caressing his cheek anymore.

“And your pains revolve around achieving your dreams. You, out of a few have dreams and you’re going through hell just to achieve it, even if this idiot is testing your patience but he’s not worth your time or a second thought to doubt what you’ve been working on all these years. May your trails end in full bloom.” His eyes had widened the moment you spoke but as you gradually finished, they softened, lips forming a smile as he held you even closer. “Maybe one day I’ll show you something I’m working on.”

“Really?!” You perked up at the sound of that, you couldn’t really look at him due to the way he held you, but the feeling of his lips pressing against your forehead caused for you tense against him in surprise and bliss. Within you— you hoped this meant more than what your heart could take.

“May your trials end in full bloom…”

taglist: @bts-reveries @sugapaste @im-emo-motherfuckers @hobisbeech @snowythellama @the-jackals @hobiheavenly @unbearable-fangirl @live-2-fangirl @labgeek @jiminieschilliepeper @maaayleee @gummygguks @parkjiminstan16 @fekitza @bidisaster1307 @http-softhoney @y-eehaw @officiallyjyptrash @uwukinawa @castellamas @mayumioutloud

[primedirection]

Gray Area- Part 2

Warnings: Angst Drama & a maybe a hint of fluff...

AN:

I had too much fun writing this and it's gonna show. I'm so sorry😅 Enjoy!

To the untrained eye dinner was going on without a hitch. The chatter was buzzing and lighthearted around the table. Attendees were in the best of spirits for camaraderie while drinks were poured before receiving great food. Yet, under the surface, Harry wondered why he even bothered to come at all.

For starters he'd forgotten why he was so excited about it in the first place, its couples night and watching his friends so lovey dovey when going through his own turmoil was a form of exceptional torture he could hardly stand. Which was odd given that he himself was usually a lover of love and absolutely lived for cheek kisses, stolen kisses, full on kisses, hand holding, and meaningful glances between people because he found it so endearing. Especially with you and yet here he was totally miserable inside.

Second, everyone is paired up with the exception of himself and his infamous ex, who's partner also happened to be away for work. So what better way for his friends to rectify their 'loneliness' than by seating them together!

As if on cue at the thought she leaned in close just to mention, "So H, I took a consensus but I'm still waiting for your vote." A mischievous smile painting her lips.

"Ehm, that's great." He had to force himself not to smile awkwardly tight lipped, "Don't think you really need it anyway, m'not really in any place to say." As he immediately dived into the menu, he missed seeing the fallen look on her face. Now it would be even better he couldn't sense it.

Despite feeling completely uncomfortable, Harry made the best effort to remain neutral. Fearing he'd draw unnecessary attention and ruin their nights as well on one hand. Then again on the other he meant what he had said to you, when he'd said that he'd done nothing wrong. So he shouldn't even be feeling any guilt towards her at all.

As far as he was concerned the pictures you 'found' not that they were hidden to begin with, were out of his control. Yes, not all of his friends dressed modestly but it surely wasn't his place to tell them how to live their lives. Everyone should be free to do as they please if it makes them happy and as long as it's not hurting anyone. And yes some old photos were still there only because that's exactly what they were, old. He wasn't trying to keep them as a memento he literally saw them once and never thought about it again. So he honestly felt like there was no point in purposely digging it up and deleting it unless he actually had something to hide.

More importantly, he thought that he'd been astoundingly clear you were the only one that he had eyes for. That there wasn't a single soul on earth, whether fully clothed or completely nude that could break the tether he had to yours. Sometimes like now, it scared and infuriated him to no end when you couldn't see it.

Harry would delete the pictures and block every single contact that you wanted if necessary, but he also had to be realistic. Once irrevocable boundary lines are crossed there is no turning back. He's learned firsthand how unhealthy it is to be a prisoner in your own relationship. When insecurity becomes doubt and doubt becomes paranoia. Worst of all when paranoia delves into control. No one is happy, trust is an insincere joke, love is completely lost, and all that really remains is either becoming or owning an object of property.

Surely this case wasn't that extreme, but he wasn't oblivious to how it starts. However it also wasn't lost on him that you both needed to come to terms of agreement in order to move forward. As long as you were within reason, he'd be able to deal with it and vice versa.

With that being said his urge to be social diminished drastically in comparison to his urge to make things right. Thus why he stopped engaging in everything around him altogether and directed his attention towards finishing up cleaning out the useless junk in his phone. Ensuring that if he ever lost you, it'd never be over something as ridiculous as an outdated picture.

As time went on Harry hadn't even discovered the conversation being drawn to him. He jumped suddenly at the realization Clare had been calling out to him. A soft question finally coming through the loudness of his thoughts. "You good, Har?"

It was also then he noticed that everyone had been watching him pointedly now. Tucking his phone away he forced a strained smile and pushed his fingers through the knots in his hair, feigning nonchalance, "Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"

"Because Y/N is here and you still haven't noticed." Mitch deadpans.

Frowning unsure he heard correctly, Harry's gaze briefly swept the room and his heart almost launched right out of his chest upon laying eyes on you. Approaching stoically, arms crossed even from across the room he could easily tell you are unimpressed by tonight's seating arrangement. He also knew better than anyone that you'd be too polite to bother protesting about it. Eventually he stood and offered you his chair while he quickly found himself another, so stunned by your presence he'd forgotten to greet you properly altogether.

"Hi guys! Sorry I'm late, got a little side tracked on the way here," You openly admit accepting his offer, not in the slightest surprised to see his ex's visible disappointment. All the while everyone else greeted you with heartwarming enthusiasm.

"Glad you're here love," Harry finally spoke with a sincere and appreciative smile, unable to help himself from leaning in and planting a quick kiss on your cheek.

"Is anyone even really surprised? I mean, you're practically attached at the hip these days. No offense." His snotty ex snickered bitterly into a sip of wine.

That. That right there is exactly what brought you here tonight. You couldn't ignore Harry's point of having no control of everything he receives, because he was right everyone gets spam one way or another. But there is one common variable that separated the innocent from the inappropriate, and that's the intention behind it.

To be quite honest, after seeing her pictures you went on a downward spiral for a bit. Beating yourself up and asking all the wrong questions. Like why weren't you enough for him? What did you have to do to make him see? And so on and so forth. But with just a little more time alone, albeit a ride home and a mini Instagram stalking session, you were able to think more rationally and even form a different perspective from a few hard facts. Eventually revealing the real answer to your problem had less to do with either of you individually and everything to do with her ill will towards you two being together.

She was literally, a first class attention seeker. Plain and simple. Born into it whether she aimed to be or not. To the extent that whenever she or anyone else she's related to so much as hint at gracing a controversial cover, it became top news worldwide overnight. This one 'cover' should be no different but alas it is, because it doesn't exist.

"Of course we are he's my best friend," You retort genuinely cool calm and collected. Earning a round of admiring 'aws' from around the table bringing up another point, your announcement, "Speaking of friends... Did everyone here get a chance to see your little outtakes? Dying to know which one you picked for the cover."

Her complexion noticeably pales almost instantly, "I- no it's still in editing nobody is supposed to see until it's finished...how did you—" she rambles suddenly nervous.

"Harry showed em to me." You lied happily with a smile just to get under her skin and it worked, seeing as she tosses him a skeptical glance but he's already looking her way with a disappointed frown, "Thought you said you asked everyone?"

"I-I-I was," She stuttered, "I just didn't want to risk it getting leaked...you know I get hacked all the time."

"Oh c'mon, Harry? He's got the worst taste here," Nick teases and receives a pointed glare from him and laughs, "Can we at least get a tip on which cover?"

If you hadn't known better, then you'd be like everyone else and maybe even a little concerned watching her become visibly uncomfortable. But currently you're all too happy to watch her struggle to come up with a believable lie. "Well... its still in the works right now too so I can't really say."

It's kind of funny how you haven't had a sip to drink and yet you felt drunk with power. Well not even necessarily power but it felt damn good to reclaim all the shitty energy she caused you in that short period of time. People like her deserved to be exposed as the malicious fraudulent snakes that they truly were. Cut out root and stem, defanged and hung out to dry.

At the moment you were thrilled and petty enough to do it with a smile, "From what I saw my first guess was honestly Pornhub." Mid swallow on a rather large gulp of wine the self proclaimed supermodel began to choke loudly. Eyes wide while unceremoniously sputtering it up through both her nose and mouth onto the fancy table setting in front of her. You laughed completely unabashed, running on a high of her karma but politely pat her back in aid quietly adding, "No offense."

Fortunately for her, her coughing fit didn't last long as she angrily pulled away from your touch.

"It's a nude piece?" Nick gasped with his hand pressed to his cheek shocked and intrigued all at once, the journalist coming out of him.

"According to what she sent to him. Then again I find it super strange that someone like her would do a shoot of that type of...nature, get it done, and still not know where it's being published." You cheerily answer for her.

However everyone else seemed to be in a battle of mixed emotions as all the clues came together. Sitting back watching silently. You dully noted the disdain and unease directed at she and Harry. Who currently had a deep frown set in place, upset at how things just unfolded.

"Unless you know, there was no intention for them except to go straight to his phone? And yet then again you and your family like to keep it saucy so." Shrugging you grab Harry's glass and take a sip from it. "Mmm, wish this was tea."

"Okay, can you shut the fuck up!" She snarls irritably, passing her hands over her flustered face. "You're seriously annoying!"

Bringing a full fledged smile to your face, "Oh honey, if you're that upset then why don't you come make me? I promise you'll get everything you deserve and more."

"You think you're so tough. I'll kick your fucking ass right now dude and you won't even see me coming!" She snaps pushing away from the table and onto her feet. Causing you to flat out laugh at her attempt of intimidation as well as gain the attention of poor unsuspecting patrons just trying eat their meals in peace.

"Uh oh, someone better fetch security for miss John Cena over here."

"Alright, that's enough let's go." Harry suddenly commands rising to stand in front of you as if he were some type of bodyguard. Wanting to leave now on your own while you could, instead of being removed disgracefully. "Already? I just got here and things are really getting interesting." You playfully tease pouting but get up anyway.

"I'll say." Nick laughs thoroughly amused waving goodbye.

"This is why people like you don't belong in our world, you're scum bitch!"

Again you laugh as Harry begins to usher you towards the exit by the waist calling back, "Sweetheart, you're the one pursuing taken men with staged nudes. You are bacteria! Keep your filthy world and choke!"

In your side peripheral you're able to catch glimpses of people's phones going up to start filming the discourse. The official cue to shut up and get out before an even bigger spectacle was created. You'd apologize to everyone else for the drama later if and when given the chance.

Your more immediate focus right now was Harry, tense and silent stalking off ahead of you in the parking lot. Bee lining for his black SUV. He hasn't asked and probably didn't care to know, but you Ubered here. Regardless he most likely would have made you ride with him anyways.

It's only after climbing inside and shutting the door that he speaks, "Do you mind telling me what the hell is going on with you?"

"You asked me to come to dinner and I showed up. What's the problem?"

His expression became incredulous, "You made a scene."

"Actually she did that. I only called her bluff and ruined her scheme of potentially ruining your honor. You're welcome by the way! From now on, to prevent shit like this from happening I need you not to be passive when they're making passes." You glare at him pointedly.

Harry frowns hard at that suddenly angry, "Fair enough, but I didn't need you to defend my honor Y/N. It was never at stake, and you'd know that if you took my word for it in the first place. Bloody hell woman, do you really think that I don't know how lucky I am to have someone like you in my life? That I'd throw this all away that easily for nothing? I'm not an idiot!"

You sigh heavily from a strong wave of guilt hitting you in the gut at the reminder but manage to fold your arms across your chest stubbornly, "Yeah well it would have been so much easier to believe without all the evidence against you,"

"S'not evidence it's stupid and childish and completely ridiculous!" He argues scratching the bridge of his nose with his index.

"If it's all that then why keep it?" You shrug.

"I'm not, it's gone. Got rid of it all after you left." He honestly admits passing over the item in question itself and with a quick awakening of the screen you instantly find out just like before the pass code is still deactivated. Leaving all accessibility at your fingertips. "Before you go through it though, I need to know something." He turns to fully face you in his seat.

"Okay?" You encourage a little uneasy but mirror his action.

"Do you trust me? And I mean genuinely trust me Y/N. Harry the human that loves sleeping in with you on Sundays, and Harry the same human that has to tour around the world 6 to 8 months at a time and might not have as much access to you as he'd like?"

You practically feel insulted by his need to ask at all but answer him anyway, "Of course I do!"

But he's dead serious, taking ahold of both your hands in his massive ones. Staring deep into your eyes with electric intensity. "Are you sure? Coz' he's the same bloke in charge of that inbox, and those dms, and that browser history! If we're gonna have any chance at all, I need you to understand that."

For a brief moment his sharp liquid green eyes flit back and forth searching for any and all doubt. Though you genuinely have none. "I do Harry, I promise."

Emotion floods in his eyes before he shuts them and shakes his head slowly but surely getting vulnerable, "I only ask this of you because love I can't- I literally can't even stomach the thought of us ever being toxic.. Losing you that way— losing you at all..." You take it upon yourself to free one of your hands just to cradle his warm cheek. In turn he tried to smile in appreciation but his eyes have already begun to burn from the prick and swell of tears, his chest and throat tightening. "You're my everything." He professes softly, "My world, my sun, my stars, my moon, my entire universe. I love you."

You smile in admiration completely smitten getting a little emotional yourself, "I love you too Harry." Pulling him close to kiss him once, twice, thrice, and then just hold on to him a little longer with his face buried in your neck.

"M'sorry for being a crybaby," he mumbles into your skin and you laugh. Then and only then does he come up for air leaving a trail of follow up kisses before putting the previous space back between you. He reaches down on the floor of the driver's seat and retrieves the long forgotten phone. Placing it back in your hand, "S' all yours lovie."

Insanely relieved and extremely giddy at the moment. You simply roll your eyes toss the damned device in the cupholder without hesitation, "Never needed it."

AN: First of all thank you all so much for the support and feedback it was truly inspiring. Hope this turned out alright! Let me know. More blurbs are coming soon so keep an eye out!

[thegreatscribe]

Language and Media: Ways on How to evaluate Language use in the Media by: Van Naputo

Media is a term which covers all the means of communication which have functions such as informing, raising awareness, education, socialization, entertainment and agenda setting, including all kinds of oral, written and visual images. (“What is Media”, n.d.) Upon the dawn of technology, many types of Media came into existence; media people tried to made use of technology to still give the people the pieces of information they want to have and as time passed, people came up with different modes to provide news to the public. Based on the type of medium, their role may be different, but they all exist to communicate to the audience and affect their perceptions. Today, people do not have to travel oceans or wait for a pigeon to get the latest news, they just have to look for the different forms and types of media to find what they are looking for. (Gooseberry, n.d.) However, the media must know who their audiences are, and they must know what proper language approach to use for them to serve the best to the people.

Moreover, people must also know how to critically evaluate the media content and information since not all contents served in those different types of Media are valid.

Definition of Terms

Media linguistics is composed of two words which are “media” and “linguistics” which means it investigates the relationship between language use and public discourse conveyed through the media. (Wyss, 2019) In other words, Luginbühl (2015) stated in Media Linguistics: On Mediality and Culturality, “Media linguistics studies how language is used in the media”

Language Register 

In linguistics it is defined as the way a speaker uses language differently in different circumstances. Think about the words you choose, your tone of voice, even your body language. You probably behave very differently chatting with a friend than you would at a formal dinner party or during a job interview. These variations in formality, also called stylistic variation, are known as registers in linguistics. They are determined by such factors as social occasion, context, purpose, and audience. (Nordquist, 2019) Language register is the level of formality with which you speak. Different situations and people call for different registers. (Eaton, 2018) According to Montano (n.d.), there are five language registers or styles: Frozen, Formal, Consultative, Casual and Intimate

Stylistics 

Stylistics is a branch of applied linguistics concerned with the study of style in texts, especially, but not exclusively, in literary works. Also called literary linguistics, stylistics focuses on the figures, tropes, and other rhetorical devices used to provide variety and a distinctness to someone's writing. It is linguistic analysis plus literary criticism. (Nordquist, 2019) In addition, Stylistics is the study of the devices in languages (such as rhetorical figures and syntactical patterns) that are considered to produce expressive or literary style. (Britannica, 2016)

Grammar 

The grammar of a language includes basic axioms such as verb tenses, articles and adjectives (and their proper order), how questions are phrased, and much more. Language cannot function without grammar. It would simply make no sense—people require grammar to communicate effectively.

Speakers and listeners, authors and their audiences must function in like systems in order to understand one another. In other words, a language without grammar is like a pile of bricks without mortar to hold them together. While the basic components are present, they are, for all intents and purposes, useless. (Nordquist, 2020)

Semiotics

Semiotics is the study of sign systems. It explores how words and other signs make meaning. In semiotics, a sign is anything that stands in for something other than itself. This lesson focuses primarily on linguistic signs.

The word 'semiotics' dates back to ancient Greece, but its use in modern linguistics was propelled in the 19th century with the research of Ferdinand de Saussure. Saussure was a Swiss linguist who contributed greatly to the study of semiotics, also sometimes referred to as semiology. (Taylor, n.d.)

Pragmatics 

Pragmatics deals with utterances, by which we will mean specific events, the intentional acts of speakers at times and places, typically involving language. Logic and semantics traditionally deal with properties of types of expressions, and not with properties that differ from token to token, or use to use, or, as we shall say, from utterance to utterance, and vary with the particular properties that differentiate them. Pragmatics is sometimes characterized as dealing with the effects of context. This is equivalent to saying it deals with utterances, if one collectively refers to all the facts that can vary from utterance to utterance as ‘context.’ One must be careful, however, for the term is often used with more limited meanings. (Pragmatics, 2006)

PRINT MEDIA

Print media refers to paper publications circulated in the form of physical editions of books, magazines, journals and newsletters. (What is the meaning of Print Media?, n.d.)

In addition, Millenger, (2018) said that, print media is the printed version of telling the news, primarily through newspapers and magazines. Before the invention and widespread use of printing presses, printed materials had to be written by hand. It was a painstaking process that made mass distribution impossible.

The following are the ways on how to evaluate Print Media in terms of:

Register

Usually, print media uses Formal Register because it is a one-way process that does not demand any quick response from the audience.

Stylistics

Print Media uses formal type of writing. Also, it gives the readers the taste of excitement for the readers to be carried unto the important part of the topic or the article. The information of the author is detailed for an easy access if the author committed some mistakes or problems in his/her published content. The articles, statements, news or etc. that are in Print Media usually have evidences that supports every claim.

Grammar

Print Media uses correct grammar: it uses formal register and formal type of writing; hence, it must contain correct grammar and of course with correct spelling. If authors will use incorrect spelling and grammar, it might affect the credibility of the news.

Semiotics

For a powerful media design, print media must use effective font styles and font sizes to capture the attention of the readers: bold and formal font style must be used. For an eye-grabber, print media must use graphics that could highlight certain parts: it should not create disastrous graphics and should relate to the topic presented.

Pragmatics

Readers are more focused on the headline before reading the entire article or news; headline is already speaking to the audience. They imply either literal meaning or sarcasm. Hence, headline sets the mood of the reader towards the media; it must create an effect to the audiences’ minds. Putting metaphorical statements, questions, quotes, full-of-feeling words will help the media have a powerful effect to the readers.

VISUAL MEDIA

Visual Media is a colloquial expression used to designate things like TV, movies, photography, painting and so on. (What are the types of effective Visual Media?, 2020) Visual media are sources of information in the form of visual representations. These can be abstractions, analogues, rough illustrations, or digital reproductions of the objects. There should be an interpretation of data, and sources may be hosted on the internet, printed in publications, displayed through broadcast media, or otherwise disseminated. (What is Visual Media and Information?, n.d.)

The following are the ways on how to evaluate Visual Media content in terms of:

Register

This type of media uses different kinds of register basing on the content. In news, it uses formal type of language register. On the other hand, movies use different types of language registers: consultative, to casual, to intimate depending on the content and the characters.

Stylistics

Visual Media is using different styles and that this type of media is exciting because it uses comparison between things: light versus dark, good versus evil, life and death, especially in movies. Though this media is using various styles, it will not be detached from its way of interpreting things and its meaning. As Weber (n.d.) said, “Images have an effect on communication. They initiate and control communication. And they change communication.”

Grammar

Visual Media uses a non-standard grammar. This type of media uses informal grammar: slang words, contractions, and new words that are not seen in the dictionary especially in movies depending on the theme or setting of the movie. Moreover, images have their own language and that sometimes they use informal grammar and sometimes, unidentified --- abstract images or paintings.

Semiotics 

In movies, signs that are shown are not that emphasized because the focus of the audience are the main characters in the movie. However, these signs: road sign, signage in malls, traffic signs and etc. are there to imply that it should be followed. Moreover, in images: photographs or paintings, there are certain signs that connotes meaning to the public audience. This type of media is more on symbolization to interpret certain things.  For example, in colors, black is a representation of mourn or sad, white for purity and peace, red for love and blue for loyalty and wisdom. However, these interpretations vary depending on your sense of geography – culture. These signs are shown in this type of media because they let the image, colors, shapes and etc. speak for itself.

Pragmatics

Images such as photographs and paintings cannot utter words because its way of communicating to the audience is by speaking through every single detail of the photograph or the painting. On the other hand, movies’ way of conveying its message is by the use of body language, gestures and how characters use stress and intonation in throwing their lines; how will they convey the message without literally implying the point.

ELECTRONIC BROADCAST MEDIA

Historically, broadcast media has been a public service, as with public radio which is funded by the government. This includes the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation (CBC) in Canada and National Public Radio (NPR) in the United States. Broadcast media can also be private and includes advertising. Global TV and CTV are examples of commercial television. The term 'broadcast media' covers a wide range of different communication methods that include television, radio, podcasts, blogs, advertising, websites, online streaming and digital journalism. Broadcast media provides valuable information that can inform and educate and includes public service announcements, daily news, weather forecasts, interviews, and documentaries. Broadcast media is also recreational and includes reality television, situation and sketch comedies, movies, sports and advertising. (What is Broadcast Media?, n.d.) Broadcast media describes the traditional forms of media that include television and radio. Technically, the term ‘broadcast media’ can include the internet as well… (Broadcast Media Definition, 2004)

The following are the ways on how to evaluate Electronic Broadcast Media content in terms of:

Register

Electronic Broadcast Media is using formal register: not a full-blown formal register since they are not expecting feedbacks from the audience, but less formal. Sometimes, they use consultative register in asking people or experts about a certain matter.

Stylistics

Electronic Broadcasting Media uses electromechanical or electronic devices to access the content given. Moreover, they are not practicing excessive foul words and language because they are more of a family-friendly media form. Main resources of electronic media are CD-ROM, online content, slide presentations, audio recordings, video recordings and multimedia presentations. Emotional appeal and repetition are highly observed.

Grammar 

This type of media often uses correct grammar in relaying news to the audience and sometimes, their choice of words used are those surface words not the highfalutin words for the better understanding of the audience listening, watching or reading the content.

Semiotics

Electronic Broadcast Media is mainly using TV and Radio. Televisions uses two types of media: Visual (moving images, videos, clips, images) and Audio Media (sound: voice, music and etc.) On the other hand, Radio uses Audio Media, but in present times, Radio is accessing Social Media and broadcasting their news at a live setting. However, traditionally, Radio is mainly using Audio Media. This type of media --- Electronic Broadcast Media --- is presenting their news content in a hierarchical manner: from the very important (politics, economy, and the most trending topic/s) and to the least important (entertainment, sports and etc.)

Pragmatics

TV newscasters or anchors uses scripts in relaying news to the public, but some of what they are uttering in the news are in their own opinion. Some of them are speaking sarcastically to make it not so direct to point as to who or what the anchor is referring to. However, in radio, some anchormen are not sticking to the scripts given to them; they prefer speaking on whatever they want to speak: some might be biased, and some might be abstain. Sometimes, anchormen are uttering things in manners depending as to who is he/she talking to.

OUTDOOR MEDIA

It typically consists of any advertising seen outside of the home, and is primarily grouped into a few specific categories: Billboards, posters and transit etc.

The following are the ways on how to evaluate Outdoor Media in terms of:

Register

Outdoor Media sometimes uses consultative type of register. Overtime, they use casual register for them to be able grab their client or their audience for a better advertising. They use this type of register to somehow create a chill and friendly environment.

Stylistics

This type of media is mostly using figurative languages: personification, hyperbole and metaphor as it grabs the attention of the audience. Also, they make use of interrogative sentences to make the audience think about what the billboard or poster suggests.

Grammar

Billboards and posters is using limited words for it to be catchy to the audience. Hence, this type of media mostly uses informal grammar: using of contractions, slang words and they even use new morphemes --- those that are not seen in the dictionary. They have to use these informalities of the grammar because they address all types of audience; may it be from high class audience or from the lay audience.

Semiotics 

In this type of media, they use signs to give out meaning; the sign could mean its literal meaning, sometimes they use it as symbolism. Moreover, outdoor media mostly uses visuals to give an impact to what they are advertising and to give additional effect to what they want to convey.

Pragmatics

Outdoor media is using limited use of words for it to be catchy and easy to read. With that, they use different styles in conveying what they really want to convey and some of their sentence structures are different. They also use some lay terms such as new-word expressions that could attract to the audience. Also, outdoor media uses images and words with big letters for it to be readable especially in billboards.

TRANSIT MEDIA

Transit media refers to advertising placed in, on, or around modes of public transportation: buses, subways, and taxis, as well as at bus, train, and subway stations. Transit media can be a great way to reach a really diverse audience: families traveling to day cares, professionals heading to work, tourists navigating a new town, or even students making their way to a local coffee shop. (Hendricks, n.d.) 

Transit media advertising is a mass media marketing tool which mainly use public transport to display an advertisement such as displays on buses, autos, cabs, trains, or any transportation mode that consumers use to travel during the course of a day. The idea of transit advertising is not only promoting a product or service outside the vehicle but also consist of displays placed inside the vehicles. Transit is an important medium for reaching an audience of all ages and backgrounds. In the last few years Transit media advertising has become more popular than ever. (Transit Media Advertising, 2020)

The following are the ways on how to evaluate Transit Media in terms of:

Register

Transit media can use different kinds of language register, it can be formal, casual, consultative or static, depending on their target audience.

Stylistics

This type of media uses limited choice of words. Sometimes they could use either formal or informal style of writing given that is should be limited depending on what they want to convey.

Grammar

Transit Media uses informal grammar, and at times, they break some rules of grammar to make it very catchy to the audience. Since they have limited use space, they usually use contractions, slang words more often, and using new words -- expressions to exact -- for it to be easy to read; they use limited words such as 3 – 5 words.

Semiotics

This type of media would not try to overdo things since they are just posted mostly in vehicles. Hence, they do not use symbolism for the audience to not consume that much time thinking of what the content means.

Pragmatics

Transit media tend to just present what is literal than letting the audience think. However, this matter is depending on their target audience and what are they advertising.

DIGITAL MEDIA

Digital media is any form of media that uses electronic devices for distribution. This form of media can be created, viewed, modified and distributed via electronic devices. Digital media is commonly used software, video games, videos, websites, social media, and online advertising. Even though digital media is part of our everyday culture, business owners still find themselves uncomfortable with replacing their paper advertising with digital marketing services.

However, with the constant shifts in technology, one cannot deny the influence that digital media has over our way of life. It changes the way we educate, entertain, publish and interact with one another on a daily basis. And, as a result of this influence, digital media pushes the business world out of the industrial age and into the information age. We’re no longer writing things with pens on paper, but instead communicating through digital devices. (Preston, n.d.)

The following are the ways on how to evaluate Digital Media in terms of:

Register

Digital Media uses more of informal register: casual and consultative, than formal register. However, this is just depending on the content and target audience. Social Media like Facebook, Twitter, Instagram and etc. uses casual register and consultative, at times, even intimate register. They just use formal register when their content is for academic and professional purpose.

Stylistics

This type of media mostly uses new style of writing. For instance, in Facebook or Twitter, they tend to use more punctuation marks: commas, periods, exclamation points and question marks, to emphasize their feelings and what they want to mean; mostly, they put more emotions in posting feeds. Moreover, styles of writing in digital media would depend on the content they want to portray.

Grammar

In digital media, usage of correct grammar is not that required because most digital media users are lay people especially in Social Media. However, this will just depend on the purpose of the author or might depend on how will a person relay his/her message to the public. Digital media might use correct or incorrect grammar, but its purpose will not change but could somehow affect the perspective of the reader.

Semiotics

This type of media uses a lot of details to capture the audiences’ attention. They use graphics that are pleasing to the eye and use icons that symbolizes something in the content. Visuals are usually used in digital media to better explain the statements -- if any -- with the help of images. Moreover, with the use of texts in digital media, certain things like example if a post is encoded in all capital letters, it might mean disappointment, anger or shouting.

Pragmatics

Language use here might not be literally implied; some might use words like “HAHAHA” but does not mean that someone is happy. In this type of media, you cannot tell when someone really means what he/she want to mean, especially in text messages, posts or chats. People might mean literal; some might mean something. Hence, you should be careful in understanding and be aware in pragmatic functions to be able to communicate well.

CONCLUSION

As time passed, people came up with different modes to provide news to the public; people use different types of media to find out news, learn new things, communicate, and entertain themselves. Based on the type of medium, their role may be different, but they all exist to communicate to the audience and affect their perceptions. With the advance in technology, people can choose the type of media they want to use, no matter the time or place. Moreover, they can hear the radio while driving to work, can watch their favorite show on their phones, and they can find out any information and news on their laptops or mobile devices. Media and language can really prosper by the use of internet and by the use of technology. We just have to use those properly and religiously for it to prosper and serve its purpose. Today, people do not have to travel oceans or wait for a pigeon to get information, they just have to look for the different forms and types of media to find what they are looking for.

REFERENCES

Bean-Millenger, B. (2018, August 08). Introduction of Print Media. Retrieved from BizFluent: https://bizfluent.com/facts-6852659-introduction-print-media.html

Britannica, T. E. (2016, April 14). Stylistics. Retrieved from Encyclopaedia Britannica: https://www.britannica.com/science/stylistics

Broadcast Media Definition. (2004). Retrieved from OpenPR Worldwide Public Relations: https://www.openpr.com/wiki/broadcast-media

Hendricks, B. (n.d.). What is Transit Media? - Definition, Advantages & Disadvantages. Retrieved from Study.com: https://study.com/academy/lesson/what-is-transit-media-definition-advantages-disadvantages.html

Hobbs, L. (2020, January 2). What is outdoor media? Retrieved from Effortless Outdoor Media: https://www.effortlessoutdoormedia.com/what-is-outdoor-media/

Luginbühl, M. (2015). What does Media Linguistics Study? Retrieved from Media Linguistics: On Mediality and Culturality: http://10plus1journal.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/09/00_OPENER_Luginbuehl.pdf

Nordquist, R. (2019, July 16). Stylistics and Elements of Style in Literature. Retrieved from ThoughtCo.: https://www.thoughtco.com/stylistics-language-studies-1692000

Nordquist, R. (2020, January 27). English Grammar: Discussions, Definitions, and Examples. Retrieved from ThoughtCo.: https://www.thoughtco.com/what-is-grammar-1690909

Pragmatics. (2006, November 28). Retrieved from Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy: https://plato.stanford.edu/entries/pragmatics/

Preston, L. (n.d.). What is Digital Media? Retrieved from DigitaLogic: https://www.digitallogic.co/blog/what-is-digital-media/#:~:text=Digital%20media%20is%20any%20form,social%20media%2C%20and%20online%20advertising.

Taylor, D. (n.d.). What is Semiotics? - Definition & Examples. Retrieved from Study.com: https://study.com/academy/lesson/what-is-semiotics-definition-examples.html

Transit Media Advertising. (2020). Retrieved from Excellent Publicity: https://www.excellentpublicity.com/media/transit/default/transit-media-advertising

Weber, W. (n.d.). In brief: Media Linguistics with a Focus on Visual Communication. Retrieved from Zhaw: https://www.zhaw.ch/en/linguistics/research/media-linguistics/

What are the types of effective visual media? (2020). Retrieved from Purple Cow: https://purplecowagency.com/what-are-the-types-of-effective-visual-media/#:~:text=%E2%80%9CVisual%20Media%E2%80%9D%20is%20a%20colloquial,photography%2C%20painting%20and%20so%20on%20.&text=All%20the%20so%20called%20visual,(especially%20touch%20and%20hearin

What is Broadcast Media? (n.d.). Retrieved from Introduction to Accessible Design in Media: http://www.humber.ca/makingaccessiblemedia/modules/01/02.html

What is the meaning of Print Media? (n.d.). Retrieved from SoyangGroup: http://www.soyang.net/blog/what-is-the-meaning-of-print-media-2/

What is Visual Media and Information? (n.d.). Retrieved from Media and Information Literacy e-portfolio: https://ewikstar.wixsite.com/mil-eportfolio/visual-media-and-information

Wyss, V. (2019). Media Linguistics. Retrieved from Zhaw: https://www.zhaw.ch/en/linguistics/research/media-linguistics/

[screamingatanemptyroom]

Baby’s First Revenge Part 5

New part for the Baby’s First Revenge series! 

Read Part 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 here!

Screams of excitement filled the normally abandoned warehouse as two fighters circled each other, looking for an opportunity to strike. The bloodlust in the air was palpable, as money quickly changed hands between the excited spectators. The cheers soared as a bell rang out and the fight truly begun. They knew they would see a good fight, see blood.

After all, this was the underground fighting ring, and anything could happen.

Peter stood in the corner, hiding amongst the crowd. His arms were tightly folded across his chest, his heart beating rapidly just underneath. His face was stoic, looking almost bored, but his eyes carefully followed the smaller of the two fighters within the ring. 

Charlotte was tall, a good four inches taller than him, but even she was towered over by her enormous opponent. Outweighing her by a good 100 pounds of muscle, everyone in the arena thought they knew how this fight would end. 

Peter knew differently.

He watched as the sixteen year old girl circled the larger man. Her movements were graceful, almost as if she were dancing across the ring rather than preparing for a deadly fight. Her hands were loose at her sides, her posture relaxed, and on her face was a bright, amused grin.

Charlotte had always loved fighting. It came naturally to her, as easy as breathing or walking to a normal person. It seemed like she was made to fight, to test her strength against larger foes. It was when she seemed the most calm, relaxed. Peter always felt that was when she was the happiest, as if she had found a purpose and was single-mindedly pursuing it. It made him feel jealous, uncomfortable.

Peter sighed as she leapt forward, landing a hard strike to the flank of the man in front of her. The man stumbled, quickly regaining his balance, but it was too late. He had already lost the initiative in the fight.

It’s already over. He just doesn’t know it yet. Despite having bet a good amount of money on Charlotte winning, Peter couldn’t but feel a bitter anger as he watched her in her element, shining brightly in the dark warehouse.

Within the space of a breath, Charlotte had clambered onto the fighter’s back, her arms tight around his neck. He bucked trying to throw her off, but she simply laughed, pressing her thumb against his windpipe, closing off his airway. 

It was a dirty move, one that never would have been acceptable in any other fighting ring. But this was an underground fight. The crowd shouted angrily, upset with as the odds moved against them, but it was too late. His face turned pale and without a short staggering step, the fighter fell to the ground. Charlotte leapt free, brushing her short dark hair out of her eyes with a happy grin.

Her eyes scanned the crowd, finally meeting Peter’s gaze. Her smile widened and she gave him a thumbs up. Peter swallowed the bile rising in his throat, forced a smile, and returned the gesture. 

I hate her.

He had been thinking it for a while now. Ever since they were children, Charlotte had been there for him, helping take care of him. She protected him at all costs, making sure he stayed safe, warm and well fed as possible under their circumstances. She was always smiling, always mature.

It was torture.

It made him feel useless, childish. Who told her to be outstanding, to shine so brightly it made him seem dim by comparison. Standing in her shadow, Peter felt his thoughts turn darker and darker.

Peter was older now, tougher. He didn’t need her protection like he once had before in the past. His eyes followed the celebrating girl carefully, his gaze cold, calculating.

I wonder what my life would be like without her?

“CUT! That was a great take, people! Let’s take a fifteen minute break before the next shot.”

The director’s shout broke Peter’s concentration, shattering the memory he had been immersed in like glass.

Peter shook his head, dispelling the remnants of his confusion, forcing himself to focus on the moment he was in, and not the past. He looked around the movie set, sighing with relief as he confirmed that no one had noticed his distraction. As his gaze settled on a young girl chatting with a small boy beside her, his posture stiffened. Peter struggled to keep the rage and disgust from showing on his face.

She didn’t look like the girl in his memories at all, Her hair was lighter, curled, her eyes a different color. She was shorter, more petite than Charlotte had ever been when they were kids. Even with her hair cut short, her clothes ragged, no one would ever mistake one for the other…

Then why does she remind me so much of her?

It couldn’t just be that they shared the same name… Peter sighed, leaning against the wall, still staring at the young girl. She was rolling her eyes at something her costar had said, laughing cheerfully. Her eyes strayed past the boy before her for a moment, locking gazes with Peter.

Immediately her smile vanished, replaced by a look of disgust. With a brief glare of hatred the girl turned away, not bothering to look at him again. Peter’s hands clenched into fists, his nails digging into the skin of the palms of his hands.

That was it.

No matter the differences in their appearance, there was something about the way she moved. Whether it was fighting men twice her size, laughing with her friends, protecting the young boy beside her, everything she did reminded him of Charlotte. Even down to her carefree smile whenever she was in a dangerous situation. Either way, despite the differences between them, this girl invoked the exact same emotion within him that Charlotte used to.

Peter hated her.  

I don’t care that you’re someone different. I got rid of Charlotte, and I’ll get rid of you.

He smiled to himself, plotting silently in his mind.

“Hey you need to watch out for that author guy.”

Charlotte looked up from her script with a surprised expression at her costar’s whisper.

“Really? Why is that?” Charlotte knew exactly why she needed to watch out for Peter, but she was curious as to why Brandon was warning her.

Brandon glanced around uncomfortably before continuing in a very soft voice. “He stares at you a lot. And when he does he looks really angry, like he hates you.”

“Ok. Then I’ll make sure to stay away from him.” Shrugging, she turned her attention back to her script, almost missing Brandon’s mouth falling open in shock.

“Just like that?” In his astonishment his voice became louder, attracting the attention of the nearby crew members.

“Like what?”

Brandon threw up his hands in frustration. “I mean, I tell you some guy is a creep and you just believe me without asking any questions?!”

“Should I not believe you? I thought you weren’t going to lie to me?”

“Of course you should believe me… it’s just…” Stumbling over his own words, Brandon slumped down in his chair, his face tinged with red. “Never mind.”

She chuckled. “Not used to people trusting you after knowing the real you, huh?”

“Shut up!” His face now bright red, Brandon jumped to his feet and ran away.

Charlotte sighed, smiling and turning a page. “Kids these days.”

“…” Several of the filming staff heard the last part

But… aren’t you a kid?

No one was brave enough to say it out loud.

After finishing filming for the day, Charlotte was brought home by her mother, and sat down to eat with her family.

“Charlotte?” Her father was pale with shock at the sight of her. “What happened to your face?!”

Her mother sighed. “Dear, I tried to call you, I’m sorry. It was just an accident at work.”

“…” There was no movement at all, as her dad stared silently at Charlotte’s swollen cheek.

“It’s okay dad! It was just an accident and it doesn’t hurt at all!” Charlotte tried to smile brightly but winced a little as the movement hurt her face.

“…” Silently her father turned back towards the hallway closet.

“Dear?”

“Dad?”

“…” After digging around for a few moment, he found an aluminum baseball bat. Slapping it against his palm a few times to test the weight, he nodded with silent satisfaction before starting to don his coat and grab his keys.

“NO!”

Charlotte and her mom grabbed him and drug him back to the kitchen. They also confiscated his bat, which caused him to pout.

“I was just going to have a little talk to the person who did this!”

“Talk?” Charlotte raised an eyebrow. “With a baseball bat?”

“You never know how a talk can go. I just brought it in case we decided to… visit the batting cages together.”

“Dad…”

“Definitely wasn’t thinking of beating the jerk’s face in.”

“DAD!”

“What?!” He blinked innocently. “I said I wasn’t thinking about it!”

“…”

Charlotte sighed loudly, but couldn’t help but smile, no matter how much it hurt. To think I lived a life where no one cared if I lived or died, but now, for just a bruise on my cheek… She hugged her dad tightly, which calmed him down somewhat from his murderous rage.

Just as they had sat down to dinner, her mom’s cell phone rang. She stood up and answered it, speaking quietly for a few minutes before ending the call and sitting back down with a concerned expression.

“What is it?” Charlotte was worried.

“It’s… nothing dear.” She waved a hand as if dismissing the question, but Charlotte wasn’t satisfied.

“If it has to do with me or the movie, please let me know, regardless of how uncomfortable it is. I need to know what to expect when I return to work tomorrow.”

Her mother gave an odd expression. “You know Charlotte, I wonder which of us is the parent and which is the child sometimes.” She sighed. “I guess you’re right. There’s been a news story online about your role in the movie… it’s not very nice.”

Charlotte stretched out her hand. “Let me see.”

“Charlotte…”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” She smiled sweetly. “May I see your phone, please?”

“No… I mean, yes you should always say please, but that’s not… ugh, here, just read it.” She handed Charlotte her phone with a defeated expression.

Charlotte opened up the news story link that had been texted to her mother by the director and read it, her expression turning darker as she got further in.

“SEARCHING FOR SILENCE CAST SCANDAL, ACCEPTING BRIBES FOR PARTS?

‘Searching for Silence’ is the highly anticipated film adaption of the bestselling book of the same name. Fans have eagerly been combing reports of the casting and filming progress, but who could have known there was corruption behind the scenes? An unnamed source has reported that the director and other producers accepted bribes for the casting of the lead part, ‘Edith’. The young girl who did receive the part was described as ‘talentless’ by this source. They also noted a loud argument between author Peter McAllen and the director as the first time writer felt that the girl was ‘completely wrong’ for Edith. Fans are increasingly concerned…”

Charlotte skimmed the remainder of the article, which she noticed had posted her casting photo. The picture was of herself in a pink dress with long hair and curls. It definitely gave the opposite feel as the character she was playing. Charlotte scrolled down and looked at some of the comments people were making. She winced. The internet was not kind.

“What the…” Her father looked over her shoulder, his face almost turning blue as he looked at the comments with her.

“Dad… remember to breathe.”

He closed his eyes briefly, taking in a deep breath. “Excuse me.”

With that he shouldered his bat and started walking towards the door.

“Honey!” “Dad!”

“Don’t stop me! Did you see what they said about our little girl?” He hefted his bat with a vicious grin. “Don’t worry sweetie, I’ll take care of it.”

“What are you going to do, beat up the whole internet?”

“If that’s what it takes.” He turned back towards the door.

“GRAB HIM!”

His bat was confiscated again, and the grumbling parent was confined to the living room until he had renounced his vigilante plan.

Once they had calmed him down, Charlotte looked back at the article with a frown.

“Don’t read that garbage, it’s just nonsense.” Her mother tried to reassure her, but she shook her head in response.

“It’s not my feelings that are the problem. This isn’t good publicity-wise for the movie. If people get caught up with untrue stuff like this, it might affect ticket sales.”

“…” Her parents glanced at each other in confusion.  

“So, what do you think should be done?” Her dad asked hesitantly.

Charlotte grinned, wincing a little as her cheek stretched.

“They think I’m not good enough for the part of Edith?” She laughed, a dark sound. “I just have to show them how wrong they are.”

[lisatelramor]

LitA Extra: The AU where Kaito Stays with the Kudos

Ordinarily I read stuff over and edit and typo check but I just. Want to get this out there. So I stop poking at it. So Here. Have almost 40,000 words of AU of AU. This diverges directly after Kaito sleeps with Ran and Shinichi where he has the choice of staying for breakfast or (fleeing for his life) leaving. In this, he stays and staying changes everything...

“I should go,” Kaito 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’ table as they went about their daily routine. Either things would start to feel awkward the longer he sat there, out of place in their lives, or he’d be folded into their life seamlessly like he had always been there. He wasn’t sure which would be worse—awkward moments could be worked past. Fitting into their life though... that was too much. Too tempting. Something he didn’t deserve.

“I...” Kaito started to refuse and made the mistake of catching Ran’s eyes. The words died in his throat.

Ran touched his cheek, so careful of the prosthetic there that his makeup must be pretty much useless in hiding it right now. “Please. We’d like you there.” Kudo’s hand joined hers, wrist warm against the back of Kaito’s neck. How could he refuse when Ran was looking at him like he mattered? When they still held him too gently?

His throat felt tight. “Okay.”

Ran smiled and gave him a quick, chaste kiss.

“I can’t stay long,” Kaito forced out around the clog in his throat. There was always too much he had to do, even on the weekend.

“Then we’d better get up.” She slid away, leaving his front cold. Kaito shivered and Kudo’s thumb rubbed against the back of his neck.

Kaito sat up. Ran put on a robe. He was a bit disappointed to see her covered again; he’d felt the muscle on her, but seeing it clearly was different. She could kill someone with her legs. Kaito blinked as Kudo’s warmth left his side, turning in time to get an eyeful of him too. At least he could say he had a taste for attractive people.

The patter of footsteps outside the door heralded their daughter’s arrival. “Kaa-chan, Tou-chan, wake up! Wake up!”

Kudo scrambled for boxers as the door rattled, the handle too high for her to quite reach, though who knew what a determined toddler could manage. Kaito looked around for his clothes, latching onto where they hung half on a chair by the window. His underwear didn’t seem to be in sight. Kaito grabbed them and stuffed his legs in without them. Either he could find them later or he could give them up as a loss. It wasn’t like the DNA evidence was worth worrying about when there was a used condom leaking on the bed. It had to have fallen off when he pulled away from Ran earlier.

He wrinkled his nose and tossed it.

There was a loud bang on the door and Kudo swore under his breath. “Just a minute, Hanae! Kaa-chan and Tou-chan are getting up!”

Despite himself, Kaito smiled. “They don’t give you any time for yourself at that age, do they?”

Kudo shot him a bemused look, tossing a robe of his own over his shoulders. It turned into concern as he looked closer.

Kaito looked away like it would hide the tear tracks on his face or how hard it was to pull his masks back on. He knotted his fingers together, balanced on the precipice of leaving after all.

Ran brushed his shoulder. “There’s a bathroom right off our room. If you need a moment...”

Kaito could have kissed her, almost did kiss her, but he wasn’t sure what the boundaries were now that they were out of bed. Instead he shot her a strained smile and ducked into the bathroom. As he shut the door, he heard Ran finally open the bedroom door and Hanae’s happy squeal as she barreled into the room.

Kaito tuned the bedroom out and checked his face in the mirror. He was a mess, makeup streaked and prosthetics holding on by some minor miracle. He looked like he’d cried his eyes out. It wasn’t inaccurate. How the hell did he have tears now when he couldn’t summon any for Jii? Contrarily, his eyes prickled again. He took a deep breath and shoved that feeling down. Shoved everything down until all that was left was small enough that he could pull his masks back up. Kaito tried a smile. It looked real enough, could be real enough if Kudo or Ran smiled at him.

It took a handful of minutes to fix his makeup and reattach the prosthetics and put himself into some sort of order. Kaito smiled at himself in the mirror again. Tried to feel it. It didn’t work when the post-coital warmth had faded into anxiety and guilt. What was he doing here? If he went down and joined them at breakfast, he was going to cross a line. Another line. If he joined in domesticity, he’d want to keep it and Kaito had never been good about ignoring things he wanted.

He let himself out of the bathroom. Ran and her daughter were gone, but Kudo was still in the bedroom, taking the time to make the bed.

“I think these are yours,” he said, tossing Kaito his underwear.

Kaito couldn’t help flushing, tucking them away into one of his hidden pockets. “Thanks.”

“Ran wanted to know if there was anything you like to eat for breakfast.”

“I eat pretty much anything. Except fish,” he added, shuddering internally.

Kudo’s brows went up at that. “How do you avoid eating fish in Japan?”

“Very carefully.” It was a personal detail freely given. He knew dozens about Kudo and Ran. They barely knew him at all in comparison. Kaito had no idea what he was doing. The space between him and Kudo felt like a canyon instead of a few meters. He didn’t let any of his uncertainty show on his face, giving Kudo a faint smile. “Breakfast?”

“Yeah.” Kudo’s gaze lingered on him for a moment before he led the way. “...Ran usually makes something traditional on weekends. I’ll let her know about the fish.”

“Thanks...” The urge to reach out and touch, to seek some sort of...of tactile affirmation reared its head. Kaito stomped it down. That would just be needy and pathetic and he’d already let himself be too vulnerable.

Ran had already started the rice, Hanae balanced on her hip as she started in on making miso soup. Kudo crossed to her and took their daughter from her arms with a whispered word. Ran nodded and sent a smile Kaito’s way before going back to breakfast prep.

“Anything I can help with?” Kaito asked.

“No, just take a seat,” Ran said.

“We’d only be in the way,” Kudo said. In his arms, Hanae turned to stare at Kaito.

“Tou-chan... Who?” she mumbled, half-chewing on one of her fingers.

“This is a friend,” Kudo said, rearranging his hold so she could get a better look at Kaito without falling over. “He’s having breakfast with us this morning.”

Hanae gave Kaito the unwavering stare that only very young children could seem to pull off and that, at least, was something he was familiar with. Children he could handle.

“Hey, Hanae-chan! You can call me Kid, ok?” He let a pack of cards fall into his hand, serving dual purpose of child entertainment and keeping his hands busy as he shuffled it. “Want to see something cool?”

She smiled around the finger in her mouth and Kaito smiled back. A real smile because how could he not smile at a cute child when they were smiling at him? Kaito made the cards arc between his hands dramatically in increasingly complex motions until at the end of one big arc, he vanished them entirely. Hanae gasped.

“Hmm, now where did they go?” He made a show of looking up his sleeves as his audience giggled. He pulled out a handkerchief and shook it. A bouncy ball and a feather seemingly fell out of it. He caught the ball, juggling it one handed. “Not there.” Another handkerchief and two more balls. “Or there.” He looked at Hanae and Kudo smiling at him, caught up in his impromptu performance. “Where do you think they went?” Three balls juggled in his left hand as he paid them no attention.

“...Your shirt,” Hanae said.

“My shirt. In my sleeves?” He swapped juggling back and forth to show his empty sleeves.

“The front!” Hanae said, pointing.

“Front pocket...” Kaito stuck a hand in the chest pocket. “Nope, only ten yen.” The coin joined the balls. “Hmm... I think...” He crossed over to them, Hanae grinning behind her hands. “I think you might have it.”

“No!”

“Really? Then what’s this?” He made it look like he pulled a deck of cards from behind her ear. Hanae gasped. “Looks like you had it after all!” Kaito tucked the cards in his front pocket and caught the balls one by one before twisting his wrist and replacing the balls with a tiny paper flower. “I think this is for you. A lovely flower for the flower girl.”

Hanae clapped enthusiastically. Children were always the best audiences. For once, Kudo didn’t look like he was trying to pick apart Kaito’s performance either. He just looked glad to see his daughter happy. The warm smile on his face tripped Kaito up a bit, especially when it turned on him. Kaito always wanted what he couldn’t have. Kaito let Hanae take the flower in a crushing grip that would ruin it sooner rather than later, but her happy smile was all that really mattered. When Hanae reached arms in his direction to be held, Kaito looked to Kudo for permission before taking her from his arms.

The toddler immediately started patting for Kaito’s various hidden pockets. Like father, like daughter; they had to know what was behind the mystery.

“You’re good at that,” Kudo said.

“Naturally. What kind of a showman would I be if I couldn’t pull off a bit of sleight of hand?”

“Showman, huh? Well you do like getting everyone’s attention.” The fondness hadn’t left Kudo’s face.

Kaito didn’t know what to do without the usual danger underneath their words. He swallowed and kept a cheerful face on. “What can I say? I like being in the spotlight.” Hanae had finished her investigation and pulled the cards back out of his chest pocket, dropping them on the floor one by one. He’d pick them up in a minute. “Children aren’t usually critics either.”

“Breakfast!” Ran said as the rice cooker clicked, finishing its cycle.

Somehow during his show she’d managed to not only finish the soup, but fry several eggs. She slid the eggs over a bowl of rice for each of them and ladled the soup into bowls as Kudo set his daughter in a highchair. There were even two little bowls for Hanae, a tiny smiley-face on the egg in ketchup. It was so domestic. Kaito sat on the edge of his chair, too on edge to relax as Ran gave him his serving.

“You’re good with children,” Ran said, coming to sit at Kaito’s side, her and Kudo bracketing their daughter between them in anticipation of having messes to deal with.

“Children are easy to get along with,” Kaito said, going for honesty again. “They’re straightforward in what they feel and need.” Hanae picked up a squat children’s spoon, jabbing it into her eggs and rice with enthusiasm. Takumi at that age had gone from shoving things in his face with his hands to a weird aversion to anything getting him sticky and as a result would try to use his utensils with a very serious expression that had looked strange on a child’s face.

Kudo had poured coffee, offering Kaito a cup.

Kaito took it even though he preferred his coffee with cream and sugar. Their hands brushed passing it off and he felt it all the way up his arm. “Itadakimasu,” Kaito said softly, using the meal to escape conversation. Beside him, Kudo and Ran exchanged a few words about plans for the day in between helping Hanae with her breakfast. It could have felt like he was being shut out except that they kept their bodies angled toward him, open and accepting. The small glances sent Kaito’s way. Ran’s body comfortably in his personal space when she leaned to get the soy sauce from the middle of the table. He couldn’t share about his day. He didn’t even know where to start to keep the lines between personal and impersonal blurred. There were reasons that he’d kept Kid on a business only relationship with the people around him, but he’d crossed that line last night, no, crossed it a while back when he started watching them in their home.

The Kudos moved around him with Kaito in their space like he belonged, like all those times of watching he could have slipped in easy as you please. The coffee scalded his tongue, bitter and sour without sweetener. He couldn’t say if the meal was good or not. Hanae spilled miso broth around her bowl. Kaito had a napkin in hand before either of her parents could finish reaching for one.

“Yeah, soup’s hard,” he said to her unhappy expression at her food not getting to her mouth. He leaned past Ran to clean off her chubby baby fingers and help reposition them on the spoon. “Take it real slow, kiddo. You’ve got to keep practicing to get it right all the time. You’re doing pretty good though. Look at how you made it through half the bowl already.”

“‘s good,” Hanae said, meaning the soup so far as Kaito could tell, smile back already. Smiley kid. A happy kid.

Kudo was watching again and Ran hadn’t said anything at all about him barging into her personal space to touch her baby, and Kaito hadn’t even thought that he shouldn’t; it was ingrained like correcting Takumi’s grip on his pencil was ingrained or readjusting tiny fingers for learning a basic magic trick. It gave too much away and not enough at the same time and Kaito could leave them wondering or he could keep pushing them away at arm’s length.

They’d kept his flowers, two red roses on their bedroom windowsill, pulled him into their bed and hadn’t asked anything of him so far.

“I have a kid,” Kaito offered as he settled back in his own seat. Calculation on Kudo’s face, that need to dig, and polite curiosity on Ran’s—they wanted to push but he knew they wouldn’t. They were worried they’d scare him away, Kaito realized. And that meant they must actually want him here beyond being polite or just extending the intimacy of the night before. ...What was he supposed to do with that? He ate a few bites of food, realized that just saying he had a child could lead to all sorts of speculation about his marital status and whether or not he was cheating. “And am divorced.” There, cleared that up and pulling back another layer of Kid to show a real man beneath, one who had a life that was documented in official papers and had personal relationships that could and did fail.

“No wonder you’re good with Hanae,” Ran said, diffusing any growing awkwardness. “We didn’t have any experience at all with babies when we had her. Every day is a learning process.”

“I’m sure you were much better prepared than I was.” Not teenagers, not trying to go to school, married for a few years already, everything done the way society said it was supposed to go. “I am honestly not sure how we lived through having a newborn.”

“Coffee,” Kudo said raising his cup. “Coffee goes a long way.”

Kaito nodded with overblown solemnity. “It truly does. Thank goodness for caffeine for all the sleep deprived new parents out there.” He took a sip of said coffee, no longer burning his mouth. “And all of the exhausted ones with small children. I’m sorry to say it’s not much more restful when they reach the point of full sentences. Then they can easily open doors.” And climb on counters and knock over chairs and get their hands on things that they really shouldn’t have been able to find let alone try to play with.

“I think she’s halfway there already,” Kudo muttered.

Ran laughed and Kudo smiled and...Kaito smiled too. A real smile. He was in too deep too fast. He’d missed having people to sit with in the morning and to talk to. He wanted to keep talking, spill out stories about Takumi and other potentially incriminating things that were too private for Kid to share but just private enough for Kaito to feel like he was letting them in and that was too big of a risk right now. He looked away and finished his meal quickly.

“Thank you for the meal,” he said, setting his chopsticks across his bowl. “Ran-san, breakfast was delicious. I...really should be going.”

Their smiles dipped. “Of course,” Kudo said. He stood after a quick, unreadable look with Ran. He crossed round the table. “I’ll walk you out.”

Kaito almost laughed at the thought of using their front door. “I think I could find my own way out.”

Kudo rolled his eyes. “You don’t have to sneak around when you’re invited.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“Have a good day, Kid-san,” Ran said. She caught his hand, squeezed it before letting go.

“You too, Ran-san.”

Kudo warm at his back as they left the kitchen, standing in the hallway because Kaito wasn’t going to leave out the front door even if he was invited, no matter how Kudo seemed to be trying to herd him toward it with how close he was. Kaito stilled at Kudo’s hand on his elbow, the press of a forehead against the back of his neck.

“This wasn’t just a one-time offer,” Kudo said to Kaito’s back. “We’re not the sort of people to do something like this casually.”

“Kudo...” Kaito exhaled, shaky. He covered Kudo’s hand with his own. They were going to break him wide open and then there’d be nothing holding him up, just a mess of hollow spaces bared for the world to see, honeycombed and jagged.

“You don’t have to say anything now. Just think about it.”

Kaito nodded once, stiff. He’d think. Oh, he’d be thinking about this a lot in the next few days. He wasn’t going to make any promises though. He was going to leave and if he didn’t manage to compartmentalize by the next heist things would be hell... Would Kudo give him more time if he asked? “Kudo...” How to ask it? Could he even? Was that too much to push when they were barely in a truce outside of heists? “If I asked for time to get my head around this...”

Kudo froze for one unnerving moment before he let go. The gap felt so much larger than a few hand spans between them. “Are you asking me to stay away?”

“Not forever,” Kaito said. “Just this next heist. I...don’t think I’d be able to meet you at my best right now.” It...hurt to admit out loud that he wasn’t alright at the moment. Kudo had seen him fall apart barely an hour ago so he knew it was true. Still, it was one thing to have seen it, it was another to talk about it and Kaito just couldn’t be that open right now. Not with Kudo or anyone. “After that, I’ll meet you halfway I just...”

He wouldn’t cry again. He wouldn’t show his weaknesses twice in one day.

“Okay...”

Kaito looked back, too surprised at the agreement to hide the emotion. Kudo looked conflicted. It had to be killing him to agree to stay away from a heist. “Seriously?”

“I’d be a distraction and it wouldn’t be a fair challenge.” Kudo pulled on a smirk that had been better suited for his face when he was still Conan. “If I catch you, I’d want you to be at your best.”

“As if you could catch me at my best,” Kaito scoffed automatically. “Critics can heckle all they want; my performances are art.”

“We’ll just have to see some point in the future. You and me, battle of wits.”

And that had always been the best part of heists, the challenge and pitting his intellect against some of the most brilliant minds on the police force. Kaito loved and hated being Kid, but it was moments like outsmarting Kudo that made it fun, not just a curse he’d drug around for too many years past its expected expiration date. “I’ll match that.”

“Good.” Kudo pulled Kaito into a quick, rough kiss, letting him go again just as quickly. “I’ll see you in two heists then.”

If not sooner, Kaito’s traitorous brain whispered, wanting to kiss Kudo again since apparently that was on the table even outside the bedroom. “See you, Kudo. Thanks.”

Kaito dropped a smoke bomb because he couldn’t just leave like a normal person, they were expecting some sort of dramatics from him. While Kudo waved away smoke, Kaito slid into a random room and bolted out the window.

He was smiling and it was a fragile thing. It felt a little like hope and a lot like longing and Kaito knew he’d be back before long. It was too tempting to stay away for long.

***

If Kaito found it hard to keep away from Kudo’s place before, it was doubly difficult now even with the jumble of mixed emotions surrounding their last encounter. He wanted to crawl back through their window and into their arms again. To have them curl around him and get nothing more from it than innocent sleep. He wanted to never talk to Kudo again because he’d shown too much and been too honest and that was terrifying. If things continued, Kaito’s masks could be peeled away until he was laid bare and who even knew what was at the bottom of everything anymore? He wanted to read picture books to Kudo’s daughter and help clean the dishes after a meal. He wanted to go apologize and reiterate that he couldn’t do this because it was a stupid, impulsive decision and he was in no position to have any sort of close relationship with anyone. Especially not as Kid.

The warring thoughts lingered as he was at work or at home or even through helping Takumi with homework. It wasn’t like him to be so indecisive about something. Kaito made choices and committed. Even the stupid ones. And if they were too stupid, he made new choices to get back out. That was how it worked. He’d made a stupid choice to take the route to seduce Kudo and his wife...somehow...and he could either accept that they were interested in having some kind of relationship with Kid or he could turn them down and go on like nothing ever happened.

They’d never tell anyone about his breakdown, never tell about any of it so they really could go on like it never happened if Kaito wanted it.

The problem was that he didn’t want to pretend. He didn’t really want the night in their bed to have been a fling done because of a desperate state of mind. He wanted casual intimacy and gentle touches and waking up next to people who knew he spent his spare time as a thief but still wanted him there. The problem was that he shouldn’t want that and couldn’t possibly make it work. Not with his job and Takumi and Aoko and Kid filling his time. And certainly not with Kudo chasing Kid. It was a fast track to heartbreak all over again and he knew it.

Kaito always did have a problem about falling for things that would hurt him.

This wasn’t an exception.

A week after waking to Kudo and Ran’s hands on his body, he sat in a park watching Takumi and Shiemi run around playground equipment. It was a good moment, the kind of moment that he cherished, and the whole day had been good from Takumi and Shiemi’s joy at being together to how they seemed to have built up a complex mashup of Takumi’s favorite sentai show and Shiemi’s current favorite magical girl series, beating some imaginary villain that had a lair at the top of the playset. It was a happy moment that already felt bittersweet as it was happening because he knew it would be contrasted with the rest of reality as soon as the moment ended.

Kudo and Ran would perhaps be a bright moment, but could it really last? Did he have any right to even try when all they knew was Kid’s mask?

Then again, even if it was only a brief moment, wasn’t this moment with Takumi at the park worth having?

At the heart of it all, Kaito realized there was a good deal of fear centered around letting someone in, especially in regards to Kid. Jii had died and Kaito’s mother and Aoko were barely in his life as the only three people who’d ever been close to him and known Kid. Well, technically there had been Koizumi and Hakuba way back in school but they barely counted since they’d been more enemies than friends. Either way, they weren’t in his life either and that was the end of an already extremely tiny list. If he got closer to Kudo and his wife as Kid, he would inevitably be getting close to them as Kaito too. He wouldn’t be able to hold a persona nor would he want to if things went further.

He wasn’t sure he wanted to try to build up something that would just break as everything else inevitably had.

And yet... And yet he wanted to try anyway. It would hurt all the more when it ended, but he’d have had something nice while it lasted.

On the playground, Shiemi tackled Takumi to the ground. Was he playing a villain now? Takumi shoved her off and they started bickering, so Kaito stood up, heading the issue off now before one of them got a bit too angry at the other.

“Takumi, Shiemi-chan, want to get ice cream before we head home?”

Two faces whipped in Kaito’s direction before they ran over with all the eagerness and clumsiness of puppies.

“Can I get two scoops? And chocolate?” Takumi asked, barreling into Kaito’s legs.

“We’ll see when we get there,” Kaito said. He let the kids drag him toward the park exit.

***

Despite how he’d suggested Kudo stay away from the heist, and despite the intent to keep away until his mind had been made up, Kaito found himself outside the Kudo manor the night before his next heist, too tense to go in Kudo’s bedroom window but too tempted to go home and sleep like he should be doing.

Kudo and Ran were inside, curled up just like he’d seen them last time, though the roses on the windowsill were gone now, blossoms spent.

If he crossed the threshold, Kaito had no doubt that he’d be welcomed back into their bed just like last time. He could curl up with warm, welcoming bodies for nothing more than a good night’s sleep. He could even leave before they woke if he wanted to and they probably wouldn’t hold it against him. And if he really wanted to he was sure they’d be up for more than sleeping sometime as well. But if Kaito crossed that threshold he wouldn’t be able to take it back.

Kaito always dove headfirst into the biggest decisions of his life. All or nothing.

He pressed a gloved hand to a windowpane. In bed, Kudo shifted restlessly, likely sensing the eyes on him even in his sleep. Another press, and Kaito felt the window shift; it was unlocked. In or out, Kuroba, he thought to himself. Are you in or out? The window slid up smoothly, quiet as a whisper. For a long moment Kaito crouched on the sill, half in, half out of the room.

Kudo shifted again, eyes fluttering open and landing on Kaito. He didn’t move or reach out or say anything, but Kaito could feel the question between them. Kudo wasn’t going to ask or pressure. Kaito wasn’t going to apologize or explain. Kaito set a foot in the room. Kudo slid closer to Ran, making space for Kaito in the bed closest to an easy exit.

When Kaito slid beneath the covers, Kudo pressed a kiss to the back of Kaito’s neck. Kudo’s warm feet brushed against Kaito’s cold ones. Kaito closed his eyes and let the tension drain out of him.

He’d made his choice.

***

Kaito woke, panic and adrenaline flooding his system as hazy remnants of a nightmare flitted behind his eyes. He’d woken silent and still, like he was hiding in a shadow from prying eyes and it took a long moment to recognize his surroundings as the Kudos’ bedroom. The room was gray with twilight, the sun on the edge of rising. Kudo and Ran were fast asleep beside him, curled up tight and warm under the covers. At some point in the night, Kudo had slid one leg between Kaito’s legs and Ran had a lone arm thrown across both their hips. Slowly, their steady breathing calmed his body down.

Just a dream, an awful, horrible, entirely false dream. He couldn’t even say for sure what had happened in it only that it had triggered all of the danger signs he usually got from snipers on buildings or being cornered by armed detectives. He ran a hand down his face. Those were the worst. He understood reliving trauma or mashing horrible moment or fears together, but the unsettling dreams where there wasn’t any clear danger just made him feel paranoid and upset.

The clock on the bedside table put the time at six minutes to five o’clock. It was time to make his escape.

Kaito eased his way out of bed, careful not to wake its sleeping occupants. Kudo frowned in his sleep, but he just curled up a little tighter to stay warm. It was cute if Kaito let himself dwell on it. He kind of wanted to stay and just watch them sleep, but he had work eventually and he really should go...

Or he could pay them back for breakfast last time and go start the coffee so that it was ready when they woke up in a half hour. Waking up to caffeine was always a brighter way to start a day. (And it made him feel a little less guilty about sneaking in and out of their bed.)

He slipped out the bedroom door, which had been left open a convenient crack. He only got halfway down the hallway when he hears a familiar high-pitched whining sound, followed by the stuttering start of sobs—a child waking up unhappy. Kaito’s feet took him toward Hanae’s room before he could make the conscious decision to do so, instinct to soothe rearing its head.

Hanae sat upright in her bed, face screwed up with the start of unhappy wails. Kaito moved toward her immediately, soothing sounds coming from his throat on automatic, pitching his voice more toward Kudo’s timbre since it was more likely to be comforting to her.

“Hey, hey, shhh, did you have a bad dream?”

Hanae sobbed and lifted her arms to be held, not caring who he was at the moment in a blind desire for comfort.

Kaito scooped her up and rocked back and forth on his feet. “Shhh. Yeah, dreams are scary. They feel real and bad, but it’s okay now. It’s over. It can’t hurt you.”

Hanae wailed. Tiny hiccup-y sobs shook her shoulder and Kaito held her through it, whispering whatever came to mind. Her parents would be awake soon if they weren’t already.

“Kaa-chan!” Hanae said through her tears.

“Yeah, we’ll get you to your Kaa-chan. Shh, I’ve got you. It’s going to be okay.” Kaito stepped back into the hall, looking up to meet Kudo’s eyes at the doorway to his bedroom. There was a moment of tension as Kudo’s brain realized who Kaito was, and then the edge of a threat that built in the split second melted away as he moved to take Hanae from Kaito’s arms. Ran followed behind him, slower, taking a beat longer to recognize Kaito with his particular prosthetic choices this time. Hanae reached for her the moment she realized her mother was there, half squirming out of Kudo’s arms before Ran could catch her up in a hug, soothing away the lingering fears.

Kaito hung back, watching. He should go. They clearly had it handled. But he hated to leave while Hanae was still crying. “I think it was a nightmare,” he said to Kudo, just loud enough to be heard over continued sobs.

Kudo nodded. He looked exhausted, tension around his eyes as he watched his wife and daughter. “There was an incident with Ran and Hanae and a mugger the other day.”

Kaito flinched. A once over of Ran showed no sign of bruises or bandages, nothing on Hanae, so... “She saw everything?”

“Yeah. It’s not the first time something like this had happened, and it’s probably not going to be the last.” Kudo’s hands clenched at his sides, unclenched, like he wished he could tear the world into a better order. “This time she was old enough to realize Ran was in danger, not just be scared and confused. She’s had nightmares the last few days.”

That explained the door being open.

“Were you coming or going?” Kudo asked, tearing his eyes away from his daughter.

Kaito smiled, wry. “Going. I...hope you don’t mind me sharing your bed for a few hours last night.”

“It was an open invitation,” Kudo said. “Though it’d be nice if you let us know you were here.”

“And wake you up?” Kaito raised an eyebrow. “I know what parenting a toddler is like. You need the sleep.” He put on a grin. “I was going to leave you coffee and note, but...” He shrugged.

“You could stay...?” Kudo offered.

“Can’t,” Kaito said, just a bit regretful. He wasn’t sure if he was up for the stress of navigating another breakfast so soon. At any rate he had work to get ready for and clothes that needed changing. “Have another day to face,” he said with a practiced smile.

Kudo side eyed Kaito’s grin. “Full of only legal things, I’m sure.”

“Meitantei,” Kaito said, hand over his heart. “I’m hurt, wounded that you would think that of me! I have a perfectly ordinary nine-to-five waiting for me. Have to pay bills somehow.” He could see Kudo turning that over, wondering what the hell sort of job Kaitou Kid might have in his time not spent thieving. “I even pay my taxes.”

“Somehow that ruins the mysterious image.”

“Exactly. I work hard to keep that image. Of course thievery doesn’t pay well when you never keep what you steal.” From the tilt of Kudo’s head, he never thought about the cost that went into Kaito’s tricks and endless supply of smoke bombs and knock out gas. If anything, being a thief cost Kaito a hefty chunk of his paycheck and his family’s inherited money as well. Kaito patted Kudo on the shoulder. “You have fun being a straight-laced detective.”

Kaito dodged away from any possibility of Kudo reaching out and hurried over to Ran. In her arms, Hanae’s tears had slowed to sniffles. “Your Kaa-chan is just fine,” Kaito said to Hanae, giving her a warm smile. She sniffed and stared at him, and okay, she probably didn’t recognize him with the prosthetics if he’s even left a large enough impression for her to remember him in the first place. That was fair. “I’ll be leaving through the bedroom window,” he said to Ran, “if that’s not a problem.”

“That’s fine.” Ran stroked Hanae’s back, shifting back and forth from foot to foot in a gentle rocking motion. “Next time wake one of us up!”

“I would hate to interrupt your beauty sleep,” Kaito said, masks on strong this morning.

Ran rolled her eyes. “Come closer.”

With all the wariness of a man who knew how dangerous a woman could be when she was annoyed, Kaito shifted a step or two nearer. Ran caught his shoulder and pulled him down a few centimeters to kiss his cheek.

“There, now you can go,” she said.

Kaito touched where she’d kissed. Huh.

“Our window’s open whenever,” Ran said. “It would be polite to knock first though.”

“That would ruin the surprise,” he said automatically.

“I think we can live without a surprise in this case.”

Kaito gave her a dramatic bow. “If the lady insists. Now I really do have to leave. Bye-bye, Hanae-chan! Bye-bye adults!”

He heard Ran laugh behind him as he hurried off into the Kudos’ bedroom and out their window. All things considered, it hadn’t been a complete disaster for only the second time waking up with them.

***

There was no Kudo waiting for him at the heist the next day, no surprise detectives, just Nakamori-keibu and his task force. And Kaito was best at handling them among all his opponents over the years. Outside the air was charged for a storm, too windy for a glider and thus not where Nakamori would anticipate him escaping too.

Kaito had dummy balloons there and while a glider wasn’t possible in the wind, a balloon could carry him a decent distance. Kaito’s breath burned in his lungs as he burst onto the roof—in a good way, the burn of pushing his body instead of with the edge of icy terror. The balloons were where he’d left them, a dark lump hidden under a tarp. They were gray to blend in with the night, and he quick-changed into matching clothing in a flash. Time to go, he thought. He grabbed the harness as he untied the ropes keeping his balloons there, wiggling into it as the last tie came undone... and up, harness catching across his torso until he managed to shift a little more to account for hips.

Wind dragged him immediately up and away. There was no way to control it, no way of knowing where he’d end up really, but the harness location was situated to prevent problems if it brushed against buildings or other debris and he had a valve to reduce the gas trapped inside and lower him back down. Away in a dizzying spiral of eddies, like the best and worst thrill ride, as the world was a blur of light and dark beneath him. There was the museum fading behind him, there were residential buildings, trees, cars on a major street—the balloons trembled suddenly and he went from drifting wildly to descending fast. A popping sound registered belatedly. He hadn’t accounted for falling out of the sky.

It was fast, too fast to do much more than direct the balloons as best he could with the balance shot and the wind still blowing every which way. He had enough control not to fly into a building though and when it finally crashed, it was in someone’s tiny back yard, probably wrecking the top of the fence where he’d barreled into it. The balloons did their job to cushion enough that it wasn’t a fatal crash, but Kaito’s shoulder ached from where he’d rammed the fence, balloons there mostly deflated even before they hit. Ow.

He pulled free of the mess, squinting down at it. The balloons were all deflating now, too torn up. There was wood tangled in fabric and on one panel a round hole—gunshot. And dark spots of...blood? Kaito looked at his arm. There was a gash through the suit fabric on his shoulder, pain radiating from it. There was dampness on Kaito’s fingertips too. Ah. More ow than he first thought. Of course, that was when the sky gave an ominous rumble and it began to pour. Kaito grabbed his balloon remnants and staggered out of the yard and down the street as fast as he could manage. At least the rain meant no one was outside or if anyone was, their heads were down trying to stay dry and reach their destination as fast as possible.

Kaito ditched the balloon remains as soon as he could find a suitable place to do so before dodging back toward areas he knew and the stores of clothes he had squirrelled away. Two changes later, he made his way toward home only to pause. They shot at him again. They had shot Jii, so there was a very good chance that they had his home under watch just because Kaito was known to interact with Jii—Toichi’s past aside. He shouldn’t go back there. That left Kaito’s mostly empty new apartment or heading to Kudo’s and, well, while he was ninety-nine percent sure he had lost any possible tail he had, it was better to be safe and not lead someone to people he cared about or further paint a target on them. Kaito headed to the apartment, aching, cold to the bone, and dripping wet.

He had cheap, rough towels bought cheap because he hadn’t wanted anything from his childhood home here; it was like a fresh start. There was a bare minimum of things. Some blankets, a chair, box to use as a table, some bandages and ointment, shelf-stable food, a change of clothes. Kaito dripped water all over the genkan and into the bathroom before he stripped off the soaked clothing and what remained of his Kid gear that hadn’t been stuffed in his random hidey-holes on the way back.

His shoulder had stopped bleeding, the skin around the edges of the wound an angry pink, the blood tacky and diluted with rain failing to quite clot properly. There was a bruise already starting to color around it and along his arm and side. This would be another scar to add to the dozens he already had. Kaito grimaced at the mess and cleaned it up. It didn’t need stitches. Butterfly bandages and gauze would do their work well enough.

After, he cleaned the rest of himself and sat in the bath, staring at the ceiling for a long time until the ache and chill went away. Another day, another brush with death. If they’d shot a bit lower or hit a few more balloons... If they’d shot him while he was untying the balloons. Nakamori bursting onto the rooftop. If Kudo had been there... Kaito shut his eyes. None of those what-if scenarios had happened. There was only what was, and what was real was that Kaito crashed and lived and walked away from it.

The night’s prize was a glimmer on wet tiles. He wasn’t going to return it to Kudo. He’d put too much attention on Kudo lately and tonight was a reminder not to do that. He couldn’t show favorites in the field or they’d use that against him. They’d try to use it to break him. Like why they’d killed Jii. Kudo had to still attend sometimes because not attending at all would be as equally strange behavior as Kaito singling Kudo out. Maybe he could convince Kudo about the need for caution...? Explain about the snipers?

Would that help things or make them worse? Protect Kudo or endanger him further?

Kaito wasn’t going to be able to hide a shoulder wound like this from Kudo or Ran if things continued in the light that they had been. He sighed. It would be easy to fall asleep in the bath. But easy to drown too, and that would defeat the whole point of fighting to stay alive now wouldn’t it?

He got out of the bath. More water everywhere, though at least this was warm. The cheap towels were scratchy against his skin, but they did their job. Kaito left the mess of clothing, bandages, and wet towels to be cleaned at a future time and collapsed into a blanket nest.

One day at a time, Kuroba, one day at a time. Tonight he’d lived, tomorrow he could figure out the next day of his life.

***

There were definitely eyes watching him again. Kaito had felt them at times over the years, always when the shadows he baited turned their suspicions his way again. They’d been there since Jii’s death probably, but he hadn’t been in the right mindset to notice them at the time. Now as he recovered from his latest heist, he noticed that they were watching closer than he could remember them ever doing. They were following Aoko and Kaito had noticed them paying attention to the Kudo household as well, but much less so than Aoko. They were at the museum, following Kaito and his coworkers and someone lingering near Jii’s bar. So far Kaito’s new apartment wasn’t under watch but his family home was.

He wasn’t sure what to do about it. It wasn’t like he could just take out his watchers; that would only confirm their suspicions.

It said a lot about his life at this point when he opened his apartment door one morning and found Koizumi Akako on his doorstep. He hadn’t seen Koizumi Akako since he graduated over half a decade ago.

“Kuroba,” Koizumi said, the same inscrutable smile as always on her face. He wasn’t sure what he would have thought Koizumi at twenty-five would look like, but however the years had treated her, she looked good. Her dark red hair was still long, but it was cut more stylishly. She was dressed in something that looked like a designer exclusive dress and had on jewelry that had to cost almost half a year of Kaito’s rent apiece. Added to her flawless makeup and dark red lipstick, Akako looked every bit the sensuous, elite woman she’d emulated in high school. Kaito was surprised he hadn’t seen her face on a billboard or something. She’d certainly cultivated the image for it.

“Koizumi,” Kaito returned. She looked him up and down the way he had done to her, each taking their measure of the other.

“Rumor has it that you could use a bit of help,” Koizumi said. Her perfect bow lips quirked up at the corners, smug as ever. “As I could use something from you, I thought we might reach an understanding.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re in a sticky situation, Kuroba,” Koizumi said, brushing past him to enter the apartment. “Do keep up.”

Kaito rolled his eyes. Rude much? “Nice to see you too, Akako-hime. I see life is treating you well.”

“And I see life has gone to hell for you,” Koizumi said looking around the sparse furnishings of his tiny apartment. Her eyes lingered on a drawing Takumi did a few days ago; Kaito with scrawled doves seeming to burst from his shirt on all sides like an explosion in the form of birds. It had been too cute to resist taping it up on a wall. Now it felt like it should be saved from Koizumi’s eyes, like they’d taint the happy memory behind it.  “Tell me, is Nakamori-chan still swinging mops at your head these days or has the divorce upgraded that to something a bit more lethal?”

“Ouch,” Kaito said. He didn’t bother asking how she knew about the divorce. “If you’re here to talk about my poor life choices, you can just turn around and leave right now.”

“Nonsense.” Koizumi titled her head in a way that made her hair fall across her face in what was no doubt an enchanting effect to most people. “I was merely pointing out that you’ve reached the point where you not only need me, you might actively consider taking me up on my offer.”

“And what exactly are you offering?” Kaito asked, watching as she made herself comfortable on his couch. So much for going to get groceries.

“An exchange,” Koizumi said. “You know I have...ways of getting information that others can’t.”

“Yeah.” He’d seen it time and again in high school, Koizumi knowing far more than she should have. He’d also see her demon butler and had spells placed on him and people around him. He wasn’t a skeptic when it came to her ‘ways.’ “What about them?”

“I can use them to watch your back,” Koizumi said, to the point, “since you don’t have anyone doing that for you anymore.”

That stung, Jii’s death still a raw wound. What little of his emotions he allowed on his face went blank, locked up tight. “Of course you can,” Kaito said. He crossed his arms, leaning back against the stretch of blank wall near the entryway. Distant, because distance was better with Koizumi. Too close and she could pull you in or use spells to manipulate you. They never worked quite right on him, but there was no such thing as being too safe. “And what would you get out of it?”

“That depends on what you’re willing to give.”

She sat there, comfortable as could be on the worn couch he’d bought second-hand as if it were her own. Entirely confident that Kaito had something to bargain with. Entirely certain that he would bargain at all. The same dislike and wariness he’d felt throughout most of high school rose in him. Where did she have the right to swan into his home and start making demands?

“Look at it this way,” she said, legs crossing at the knee and leaning her head against one hand. “You had a close call last heist. That sniper would have killed you if he shot a few seconds sooner.” Her eyes trapped him in place like a cobra’s stare. “You were followed twice this week and a month and a half ago you lost your assistant. Your leads have all fallen through lately in catching these men. The last person you managed to turn over to the police was dead within an hour. Your infamous luck is slowly running out. But I could spot your watchers, see when each worse threat arises, and even give your luck a boost to keep it going a bit longer.”

Kaito hesitated. There had to be a catch, there was always a catch, like making a deal with a devil. But Koizumi knew things that she shouldn’t. Things she could only know through magic. There was one thing she hadn’t offered in that little sales pitch, one thing that he would give her pretty much anything for. Especially lately when his blood ran cold thinking about those unfeeling eyes on Takumi.

“You know magic,” Kaito said. A statement of fact, acknowledged out loud for the first time. He wet his lips. “What would it take to erase the connection between Kaitou Kid and all things Kuroba?”

Koizumi’s eyes narrowed. She tapped a manicured nail against one burgundy lip. “All things Kuroba? I can’t go that far. My magic has never worked quite right on you personally. As for your family... That could be doable. I could obscure you and erase their connection entirely. Nakamori-chan’s connection with Kid would remain, but her connection to Kuroba Kaito would be obscured from anyone looking for you with ill intent. Same with your mother and your son.”

“And other people?” People like Nakamori-keibu and the Kudos...

“To a lesser degree, yes. The way I’m thinking would work best on blood relations.”

“And what would something like that cost me.”

Koizumi smiled, cold. “A child.”

Kaito’s emotions locked down, face even blanker. “What.”

The witch on his sofa had the gall to look annoyed. “No, you idiot. I don’t mean sacrificing your or some other random child. I mean that my price for you is a child of your bloodline. With me.” Koizumi looked him over once; Kaito had rarely felt so much like something about to be eaten. “My family has always gained power through seeking out others just as strong. What better way to strengthen my bloodline than with yours since you’re resistant to my magic?”

A child. Koizumi wanted to have his child. What the fuck. All those years in high school of her trying to force him to bend to her magic and will and fall over himself at her feet and here she was asking for a baby. He tried not to react outwardly. “Why now?”

“You’re at the point where you’re considering it,” Koizumi said, like it explained everything, and maybe it did. If Kaito hadn’t lost Jii, if he was still married, if the world wasn’t closing in on all sides, if he didn’t desperately want the refuge offered by the Kudos... Well, he would never have listened this long. “Besides, I’m at the point in my life where my window of prime child bearing years are passing quickly. It’s the right time for a child.” She didn’t say it, but Kaito could see an edge of vulnerability for a moment, an unspoken and I want a child that Akako was too proud to ever say.

Kaito wet his lips again. He felt a little sick. He was actively considering this. Him. Who had always wanted nothing to do with Koizumi or her intentions toward him. Would it be worth it though? At least, he thought, she wasn’t unattractive, just not attractive to him in her personality.

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

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

Koizumi lifted a perfectly tweezed eyebrow. “I’m at the height of my power with half the world ready to throw itself at my feet; I don’t have to be proper or polite anymore.” She smirked suddenly. “Of course if you’d rather seal the deal the old fashioned way...”

“No!” Kaito said. “No thank you!”

Koizumi laughed and finally that haughty, elite persona melted away a bit. “You’re lucky I find your horror funny instead of insulting.”

“Ugh.” No, he really did not want to sleep with Koizumi Akako, deal or no deal.

“How about this,” she said. “You let me have your child and I will erase your family from your shadows’ notice, obscure your identity as much as I’m able, and give your luck a boost. I’ll throw in future warnings as I get them and any tidbits I can get on your threats’ identities for free.”

Kaito didn’t point out that some of those ‘free’ additions had been implied by her sales pitch. Instead he gave a counter demand. “I get to know about the child. What they’re like and their life.” The idea of having a child and not ever knowing about their life or their name or face... Not having anything to do with them even in an impersonal way... He couldn’t do that. Having Takumi had shown him just how much having a child meant to him.

Koizumi didn’t even look surprised by this demand. “Fine. I promise to give regular updates. I’ll even let you meet them at some point.”

Kaito took a breath. He could feel the shifting of the world, tipping to a new balance at that moment. “Okay. Okay, I’ll accept.”

Koizumi smiled. “Wonderful.” She got to her feet and took Kaito’s hand in hers to shake it, Western-style sealing of the deal. “I’ll be in touch about the details.”

“Okay.” Kaito had the sinking feeling that he’d jumped into something he couldn’t handle. He’d have to handle it anyway.

Koizumi smiled, meeting his eyes for a long moment. And then she was leaving just as confidently as she’d come. Kaito hadn’t really had a choice in this deal, had he?

***

Every time Kaito decided he was going to put a bit of distance—or at least wait a bit for safety’s sake—between him and the Kudos, he found his resolve crumbling. The bed at the apartment felt too empty. He needed to hear Ran singing a lullaby. He needed to see Kudo alive and breathing after a nightmare of him getting shot at a heist. Visiting the Kudo house meant triple disguises and doubling around and doing everything he could think of to keep the watchers from realizing he was there, just like he did every time he went back to his new apartment, and it was tiring and ate up time he could be using to sleep or plan, but he found himself doing it anyway, crawling in the bedroom window or watching Kudo in his study for a while until he worked up the nerve to join him.

So far Kaito hadn’t been turned away. They’d scoot over and give him room in the bed or Kudo would set his paperwork aside to give Kaito attention or Ran would ask questions about his day in careful generalities that let him get away without giving specifics. He’d joined them for dinner once, and had breakfast half a dozen times even though it made it hard to make it to work on time.

There hadn’t been a repeat of that first night yet, nothing inherently sexual at all, but there had been plenty of intimacy and it filled some void in him he’d long stopped noticing was there. It was nice to sleep tangled up with someone. It was nice to exchange a kiss before bed or in the morning or just because they felt like it. It was nice to be asked how his day went and hear how someone else was doing and even nice to coax a picky toddler into eating again.

***

There was a note left in the apartment mailbox. Kaito took one glance at the handwriting and knew it was Koizumi. There was no stamp, which made him deeply uncomfortable. Either Akako or her inhuman servant had left this and neither thought was a pleasant one. It asked for a sample of Takumi’s hair and...the other necessary sample for their bargain to be left in his mailbox at a certain date for Koizumi to uphold the bargain in full.

Kaito half expected the note to catch fire or do something unnerving or magical, like try to influence him, but it remained nothing more than paper. He...still wasn’t very comfortable about this. Even less comfortable in giving Koizumi something of his son’s but. But. So far she’d helped him. And Koizumi wasn’t the type to break a deal once she made it. And Kaito wouldn’t be the one to break it on his end.

Someday he’d have to look his son in the face and explain that he had a sister somewhere. How the heck was he going to explain that? And if Aoko ever found out... He shuddered. He’d be in trouble. It didn’t matter that they were divorced for almost three years now, Aoko would still give him hell for having a kid with Koizumi. Especially with Koizumi.  So she could never know.

Kaito vanished the note up his sleeve and made plans. Koizumi would get her samples and that would be that.

More than Kaito’s comfort, Takumi’s safety came first.

***

It wasn’t an abrupt change. There were people watching him and Aoko and everyone in his life and then... there were less. They dropped off, like something else had distracted them until Kaito was sure it was the same level of observation as it used to be; someone keeping an eye on the task force, and an ear to the ground for any hint of a gem that might be Pandora. No one hanging around Kaito’s home. No one around Jii’s place either, and that was what truly cemented Koizumi’s influence because they knew Jii was connected to Kid. And yet the surveillance was gone. A scan for wire taps came up empty and there wasn’t even a hint of Kaito’s sixth sense nagging him when he visited the bar to check up on it.

It left a tumult of emotions in him, regret and relief and worry and small joys for freedom he still had all a tangled snarl that Kaito tried to keep firmly in the back of his mind or else it might drive him crazy.

The first day he realized that the watchers weren’t on him at all anymore, he went to Kudo’s home, needing something but not quite sure what. Reassurance? A friendly face?

Kudo found him in the study, staring blankly at book titles from Kudo’s personal collection.

“Kid,” Kudo said, coming to stand next to him. He looked at the books with Kaito for a moment, seeing them more clearly than Kaito was. “Were you looking for a specific title? You can borrow them if you want.”

The books were all detective novels and true crime stories, nothing that Kaito was interested in. Kaito pulled back from his daze, focusing on Kudo instead.

Kudo frowned and reached out, hesitating before touching Kaito like he thought Kaito would flinch away. Like Kaito still had ahold of a flight instinct with him. “Okay, you don’t have a fever,” he said. “What’s wrong?”

Kaito almost asked him if the impossible ever happened to him, but that would have been a really stupid question to ask someone who had their age reversed at one point in their life. Instead, Kaito reached out to touch Kudo’s face. How had Kudo handled it back then, finding himself in Conan’s form? Living a lie more complete than Kaito’s lie had been. They’d both lived a lie to the one they loved most, but Kudo had told Ran the truth and she’d accepted it and Aoko had not.

“Kid?” Kudo asked, one hand reaching up to cover Kaito’s hand with his own. Holding it there.

“Sometimes,” Kaito said after what could have been moments or minutes, “I wonder if I’ve made the right choices. Or if there is a right choice. Or if every choice has a flipside and you just weigh the positives against the negatives and hope that the outcome is in the green.”

Something a lot like alarm flashed across Kudo’s face and then Kaito found Kudo’s hands bracketing his face and Kudo staring into his eyes from less than a hand-span away. “Did something happen? Or. Are you regretting... this... between us?”

Kaito blinked, realizing without context his words could be taken a number of directions. And that he probably wasn’t being fair to Kudo if Kudo honestly thought Kaito might still back away from the tangle of a relationship they were building between the three of them. “No. No, I don’t regret this.” He let his forehead bump against Kudo’s, feeling the other man’s muscles relax and the soft gust of breath against his cheek that went with it. “I meant something different. I just.” Kaito gave an aborted, helpless laugh. “A lot has happened lately. And I made more choices that I’m not sure about emotionally. But I’m not regretting choosing you or Ran-san.”

“Okay,” Kudo said. “Okay. Do you... is it something you can talk about?”

Could he explain Akako and her magic to scientifically-minded Kudo?

“It’s not something illegal is it?” Kudo asked belatedly, a frown edging across his face.

“It’s not illegal.” He was fairly certain there weren’t any laws on the books about making deals with witches.

“Okay. Good. I’m not sure I could be a listening ear if it was something illegal.”

“What’s one more thing to my miles of misdemeanors and felonies?” Kaito joked.

Kudo didn’t look amused. “I made peace with you being a thief but that doesn’t mean I could look the other way about other crimes.”

“Relax Kudo. I guarantee you will never have to worry about me murdering anyone.”

“You’d better not,” Kudo said. “...Do you need to talk?”

“I appreciate the offer, but there is so much to unpack I honestly wouldn’t know where to start.”

Kudo brushed a thumb along Kaito’s cheek. “With what tipped the scale of your panic?”

“I ran into a woman from high school,” Kaito blurted before he could stop himself. “And so much has changed since then. She was someone who scared the hell out of me then and still does now. Actually that’s misleading, she showed up uninvited and forced a deal and now I’m just. A bit shocked that it’s not biting me in the ass.”

And the concern was back. “You’re...sure that it’s not illegal?”

“I... I’m pretty sure there’s not laws for the sort of bargain we made, but it’s kind of morally questionable to me on a personal level?”

Kudo looked like he really wanted to ask what the bargain had been, but he visibly restrained his curiosity. He took a breath and let it out slowly. “Okay.” Kaito couldn’t look away from him, the world having shrunk down to the two of them and the air between them. “Was it likely to blow up on you? This deal?”

“I wasn’t sure if she could hold up her end. But she did.”

“Do you trust her?”

“Hell no, but I can trust her to probably not want me dead, or at least to uphold a bargain because she’s serious about that sort of thing. I followed through on my end so she had to follow through on her end. And her end heavily implied efforts to keep me alive.”

Kudo closed his eyes. “I have so many questions. And I’m not going to ask them. But I do have to ask if this is something that’s going to negatively affect my family.”

“No.” Kaito laughed a bit helplessly. If anything it was the opposite.

“Okay,” Kudo repeated. “Then tell me when you feel like you can share the details or... not at all if you can’t I guess.”

“Right.” Kaito leaned into Kudo’s embrace. Damn but he didn’t want to move. “How is any of this real?” he mumbled. How did he go from the worst point of his life to having someone holding him like this and trying to make him feel calm and safe?

“It must be your luck,” Kudo said lightly.

If letting Koizumi boost his luck was part of what brought this to him, well... Maybe the price he paid was worth it. Kaito let his eyes slide shut and stayed in Kudo’s arms for much much longer than he probably should have. He wasn’t supposed to be giving up this much of his heart so quickly.

***

It reached the point where Kaito realized that he was spending more time sleeping over at the Kudo home or his new apartment than at his mother’s home. Kaito wasn’t sure what to feel about that. He wasn’t sure how to feel about how he’d started thinking of his childhood home as his mother’s home again either. Life took unusual turns, and now he found himself at something of a crossroads. Because with how often he was spending time with the Kudos—including their daughter—this wasn’t just something casual. It never had been honestly, but there was just sleeping with people and then there was helping care for their daughter while Ran had to work late and Kudo was dealing with a bad migraine.

The way Kaito saw it, he could back off and try to slowly phase back to the sometimes-friend-sometimes-rival complicated mess that he and Kudo had before. Or he could commit. Fully. With all that entailed. It wasn’t reasonable to expect them to accept only the bits and pieces of masks he gave them and look no further, not if this was going to last. And Kaito did want it to last.

It was nice to wake up next to someone. It was nice to be held again and to let bits of vulnerability show to the world. It was nice to sit down to breakfast and even nice to calm down a frustrated child because it was all little normal day to day things that he missed. And Kaito could have all of that again, Ran and Kudo giving every indication that he was welcome into the mundanity of their lives along with all the other things life brought.

Kaito supposed it wasn’t really much of a choice once he started thinking about it. His life was all secrets and at the end of the day he’d like to have one less among the number laying heavy over him.

Akako was just the final turning point in the decision that had been building in him ever since he agreed to stay for breakfast that first morning. In the long run, ‘Kid’ wasn’t safe to be close to. With ‘Kid’ and ‘Kaito’ separate in the eyes of the universe though... There was nothing wrong with ‘Kaito’ becoming part of Kudo’s family.

He came to the bedroom window like usual, ghosting up the side of the home using handholds that had become as familiar as his own home’s front door. Kudo was in the study, but Ran was in the room, reading by the light of a bedside lamp. He knocked lightly on the window so he didn’t startle her before letting himself in.

Ran set aside her book, a smile already on her face in greeting.

“Good evening, Ran-hime,” Kaito said with an exaggerated and flirtatious bow. “Your husband decided not to sleep tonight?”

“He has paperwork to finish filling out for tomorrow,” Ran said. “He’ll be up in a minute.”

“Provided he’s not distracted.”

Ran laughed. Kaito had seen Kudo forget to take breaks and skip sleep entirely when he was caught up in a case. Ran probably had a list of the times he’d gotten distracted a mile long. “If he’s not up in fifteen minutes, I told him I’d drag him up here, so he better not get distracted. Sometimes I wonder how he got through being a teenager on his own.”

“Luck and a lovely kind soul checking on to make sure he wasn’t starving?” Kaito suggested, thinking of his own teenage experiences.

“Something like that.” Ran held out a hand and Kaito let her pull him down to sit on the edge of the bed. She leaned up for a kiss and he gave it willingly, one more thing that pulled him to commit to this. “Are you staying the night?” Ran asked. Sometimes she asked and sometimes she offered and she’d never made him feel like he had to answer one way or another.

“I’d like to,” Kaito said. He gripped her hand lightly, a little, no, a lot nervous though his poker face covered it well enough. “When Kudo gets here, there’s something I’d like to talk about though.”

“You know you can call him by his first name, right?” Ran said, slotting their fingers together. “You use my first name.”

“I can’t call you both Kudo, that would be confusing,” Kaito said. And somehow he’d always thought of her more by her first name—she vaguely resembled Aoko and Kaito had thought of Aoko by her first name so long that his subconscious had latched onto Ran’s first name. But Kudo was something of a rival, and using his first name felt too intimate. Although...maybe Kaito should start making an effort. Another tangle of nerves roiled in his gut.

“You should call him Shinichi,” Ran said with a grin. “I’m betting it’ll get a blush from him.”

“Well if it will have that effect,” Kaito said, fluttering his eyelashes at her.

Ran giggled and was still giggling when the door swung open and Kudo wandered in, his reading glasses still perched on top of his head like he’d pushed them back and forgotten about them. “Oh, Kid. Hi, you’re staying the night?”

“Yup.” Kaito held out his free hand and Kudo took it. He was unguarded and relaxed and it occurred to Kaito that Kudo really did trust him. It should have been obvious considering how he let Kaito sleep in the same bed and hold his child, but it was the act of taking Kaito’s hand automatically that cemented it. “And it’s Kaito, actually.”

“What?” Kudo blinked away some of the exhaustion, focusing on Kaito fully. Ran’s hand tightened around Kaito’s.

Kaito smiled and...let go. They trusted him and he could trust them back. “My name. Please, call me Kaito.”

“You’re giving us your name,” Kudo said slowly. “Why?”

“Because,” Kaito said slowly, “I want you to know that I’m serious. And I don’t want another relationship built off secrets.” He smiled wryly, a bitter twist in his stomach. “I’ve tried that. Doesn’t work well as you can imagine.”

“But.”

“Kudo. Shinichi.” Kaito enjoyed the full body twitch and blush using Kudo’s first name brought, but it was to add weight to his words at the moment. “I need to know if you’re willing to hear who I am.”

Ran and Kudo gave him identical wide-eyed looks. They hadn’t, Kaito realized, expected him to ever bring the topic up. They expected to just have him in moments and snippets, time carved out of Kid’s persona and doled out on Kaito’s terms. Maybe they never would have brought it up. It made Kaito’s heart hurt in a complicated way he didn’t have words for at the moment.

“I suppose,” Kaito said when they didn’t have a response, “that besides not building something off secrets, I don’t want to be a secret either. Call me selfish, but I don’t think I could be satisfied with stolen moments forever. I intend to commit. To both of you.” He looked from Kudo to Ran.

“You don’t have to—” Ran started.

“I really do,” Kaito cut her off firmly. “Now I know you’re both ignoring some legalities already. Is knowing who I am too much?”

“No,” Kudo said finally. He touched Kaito’s cheek with something between wonder and determination in his eyes. “I think it’s pretty clear that we’re also committed. We aren’t going to turn you in.”

“Heists aside?” Kaito asked, letting his voice slide to lightheartedness again.

“I don’t think I would be able to even there,” Kudo admitted. “I’m not sure I really wanted to catch you in the first place.”

“Well I guess you caught me in a different way,” Kaito said. He pressed his face into the touch and heard Kudo’s breath hitch when he realized there wasn’t a prosthesis this time. Kudo’s fingers traced the rest of his face and didn’t find anything. “It’s just makeup,” Kaito said. “No prosthetics.” Just enough contouring to make his face shape look a bit different and all easily washed off.

Kaito squeezed his lovers’ hands and let go to reach into his pocket for a makeup wipe. In a matter of seconds, it was washed away and a quick finger comb of his hair had it free of its combed style. He sat there before them as Kuroba Kaito, masks down, face bare. When he smiled, he let his nerves show through.

“So. Call me Kaito.”

“I. You...” Kudo looked at Ran like she had an explanation for why Kaito would choose now to give them his name. “Can he do that?”

“Since I just did,” Kaito said, worry tangling with amusement, “yes, yes I can.”

“You look a lot like Shinichi,” Ran said, taking this much better than her husband. “Although that isn’t too surprising since you used to pull off his face without a mask.”

“Our face shapes are a bit different these days,” Kaito said, “but it was always our hair that was the biggest difference.”

“Your hair looks like you didn’t comb it,” Kudo said.

“My hair shares my free spirit.” This was getting off topic. “Hi. I’m Kuroba Kaito, currently Kaitou Kid the second. I daylight as a museum conservator. I have a son in first grade and my ex-wife is on the Kid task force. Nice to formally meet you.”

Kudo’s eyes went sharp, his terrifying brain drawing connections and probably filling in everything that Kaito ever gave away over the years to fit with this new information. “Kuroba Toichi was the first Kid, correct?”

“Yes. My father.”

“He taught my mother disguise skills.”

“I know. I have a vague memory of meeting her. She still talks to my mom sometimes.” Kaito gave them a wry smile. “Small world, no?”

Kudo muttered something to himself, lost in piecing things together. Ran patted Kaito’s hand, holding it again. It went a long ways toward reassuring him that he hadn’t messed everything up. “You have a son?” Ran asked.

“Yeah.” Kaito smiled. “Takumi. He’s six, almost seven. He’s into Pokémon and coral reefs at the moment and I’m probably going to get a phone call in the next week about the latest stunt his friend roped him into.” Shiemi was the chaos maker between the two of them. “His mother has custody.” It was an explanation in and of itself.

“Do you see him often?” Ran asked, serious, and Kaito remembered that her parents were separated. Never divorced for some reason, but she’d been raised mostly by her father if he remembered correctly. If anyone could understand the sort of stress having parents at odds could put on a child, it would be her.

“I have him on weekends,” Kaito said. “He’s a good kid.” There were a thousand things he could add to that, like how Takumi was learning magic tricks or how he loved to run or how Kaito felt like he was missing so much of his life and that seven years had passed so much faster than he’d expected. It all caught in his throat, and rather than let Kid’s mask back on he let himself struggle with Kaito’s emotions. “He’s great,” he choked out.

The way Ran looked at him with something on the edge of empathy, it made him want to hide, too exposed, raw and cracked open. He’d chosen this though. He chose it so he steadied his breathing and stayed.

“That explains how you interact with Hanae,” Kudo cut in, back in the present. “You’re good with children.”

“I like children,” Kaito said. In another life, he’d have wanted a second child. So Takumi wouldn’t be alone and because there was something amazing about seeing a tiny human being grow and reveal who they were to the world.

“Kaito,” Kudo said, testing the name. Kaito couldn’t look away. Kudo reached out again for his face, tracing its shape and Kaito let his eyes flutter shut, trusting. “Kaito,” Kudo said again. He pressed a kiss to Kaito’s forehead and then there was Ran warm against Kaito’s side as she hugged him. Kaito felt like he might cry because they both touched him like he was fragile and valuable and that would probably always get to him when they did that. “Thank you,” Kudo said, the bed dipping as he sat on Kaito’s other side and joined the hug. “For trusting us.”

Kaito relaxed into their hold. He’d trusted them with his vulnerability and in the end going that little bit further wasn’t as big of a leap as he’d expected. “I want you to meet my son,” Kaito said, muffled into Kudo’s shoulder. “I want...I want this to be more than just seeing you at night.”

“Good since we’d like the same,” Ran said. “We didn’t want to push though.”

“You run when you get uncomfortable,” Kudo added.

Kaito snorted. He did run; it was instinctual at this point because if you felt threatened you got the hell out of the situation. “I think I’m going to keep ‘Kid’ at a distance. You’re going to have to see what you think of ‘Kaito.’”

“Kaito can’t be that much different,” Kudo said. “Or were you not Kaito all those times you broke your persona around me?”

That got a laugh. “No, that was me. Especially when I was younger. It’s...a lot more blurred these days.” Wear a mask too long and you became it. Sometimes he didn’t know where Kid ended and Kaito began and the last few months with the Kudos had blurred that even more. He was Kaito right now though and Kaito was exhausted and relieved and happier than he’d felt in a while. “I’m not really at my best lately.”

“You’ll get better,” Kudo said with conviction.

“I’ve been thinking about taking a few months off from being Kid.” It was long overdue and he’d meant to before Jii died. Kaito was a mess and throwing himself into being Kid hadn’t actually helped anything. He needed to get his life together again. And maybe taking the time to connect to the Kudos as himself and spending more time with Takumi would be the key to doing that.

“You’re welcome here as Kid or Kaito,” Ran said. “Anytime.”

They held him until they started falling asleep sitting there and then they broke apart only long enough to get ready for bed before returning to huddle together under the covers. It was going to work out, Kaito thought. He’d put the effort in to make it work and to get back to where he was before Jii died and try to chase happiness with some of the strength he’d put into chasing Pandora all these years.

***

Kaito took a deep breath. There was almost a meter between him and Aoko where they stood off to the side of the playground. Takumi scrambled up the playground rock wall as easy as breathing as he chased after one of the other children. The gap between Kaito and Aoko could have been a kilometer for how closed off Aoko was. Today was a compromise. Today was moving forward.

“Aoko,” he said, forcing his voice from his throat like it didn’t feel like he had his heart in his throat.

She tilted her head in his direction, eyes intent on their son.

Kaito wet his lips, attention split between the two. “I need to tell you something. I’m seeing someone.”

Aoko looked away from the playground. “You’re what?”

“Seeing someone.” He swallowed. “Multiple someones actually. A married couple,” he said before she could finish frowning or make an accusation. “Openly. It’s. They invited me to be with them. It’s all open.”

“Is it.” Something between anger and hurt flashed across Aoko’s face, buried under the cold distance she’d kept up the whole day. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because it’s serious,” Kaito said. “And I want to introduce Takumi to them.”

Takumi went down the slide, a bit too fast, stumbling at the bottom. Now he was the one being chased, but it was smiles all around out there, a game everyone was enjoying. Aoko looked away from Kaito, controlled, not letting anything slip.

“You’d need my permission,” she said.

“Which is why I’m telling you. They’re nice. They have a daughter and are good parents and. They’d like Takumi. Takumi would probably like them too. I want to share my life, not keep it in boxes.”

“Do they know?” Aoko asked. “Everything, do they know?”

Her hand balled into a fist at her side. Kaito looked into the middle distance, watching her from the corner of his eye, trying to stay as outwardly removed as possible because one wrong word or action could shatter the whole moment. “Yes, they know.”

“And it’s not a problem?” Sharp, too sharp, her composure cracking.

“I was Kid to them first,” Kaito said, almost too quiet to be heard.

She turned to him again, staring like she could see into his soul. He could see too much in her, all the hurt and anger and loss and betrayal churning just under the surface, held together only by Aoko’s sheer stubborn will. “Who is it, Kaito?” He couldn’t meet her eyes. “Tell me.”

“...The Kudos.”

Was it silly for her to look heartbroken all over again, more than three years after their divorce? Was it silly for Kaito to feel like he’d been kicked in the chest or to have guilt swirl through him? Probably, but Kaito had always been an idiot for Aoko and she was the same toward him even if they weren’t together anymore.

“So they can forgive that?” Aoko said, bitterness filling her voice. “I guess it’s different when they knew your mask first.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Oh shut up, Kaito. You’re not sorry for the things you should be, and the things you are sorry for aren’t really my damn business anymore are they?” She huffed. “I guess we really should be moving on. It’s been years.”

There wasn’t anything to say to make it right. No magic words or pretty gesture to melt the ice between them. She was right. Kaito felt guilt about the wrong things, about hurting her by seeing someone when they weren’t even together anymore but not about the thing that hurt her most.

“You can trust them?” she asked when he was silent too long. “With everything.”

“I think so. It’s...it’s not like with you. They have a better idea what they’re getting into... It’s ‘Kaito’ that they’re learning to know.”

“Okay. I’m not happy about it, but okay. Tell Kudo he’s not allowed at heists until I say so though. I can’t trust he’s going to mess us up on purpose.”

“He wouldn’t.”

“Sorry but I don’t trust you on that.”

Fair enough.

The kids had given up their game of tag in favor of playing some sort of game in the upper part of the playground equipment. Probably something dramatic and medieval with the castle-like shape of the structure.

“I think I can be happy,” Kaito burst out. “With them. In general.”

“Good for you.”

“If you can, you should try to be happy too.”

Aoko glared at him, finally looking more like herself and part of him relaxed even though he probably should be preparing to duck. “I’ll do whatever the hell I want. I don’t need or want you meddling. And I don’t need your goddamn blessing to pursue something if and when I ever want to.”

“I wasn’t saying that you—”

“And you don’t need mine, Bakaito. So shut up.” The space between them was a bit less than a meter now. It felt like it might be the actual distance between them in that moment instead of being emotionally worlds apart. “You can take Takumi to meet them sometime, but only if you clear it with me first and you let him decide if he ever wants to go back.”

“I can do that.”

“Good.”

A few minutes later, Takumi ran up to them, full of smiles and babbling about the new friend he made and how there had been dragons storming the castle but the knights beat them back. That, Kaito thought, had gone about a hundred times better than he had ever expected it to.

 ***

“I have someone I want you to meet,” Kaito had said when he picked up Takumi from Aoko’s home for the weekend. Now, standing in Beika with the Kudo manor’s gates in front of him, there were a thousand worries in his head. What if Takumi hated them? What if the Kudos didn’t like Takumi—not that Kaito thought anyone could hate his son, just. Possibilities. What if Hanae didn’t get along with Takumi or vice versa? What if Takumi got close to the Kudos and everything fell through and then Kaito broke his son’s heart all over again with another break up.

They were going out today. On a picnic. Something fun and not at a home because it would be neutral ground and that felt important for a first impression.

Takumi looked up at Kaito and tugged on his hand. “Are you gonna go in or look at the gate all day?”

Kaito put on a smile. “Sorry, I was just thinking about some things. You know how I said these people were important to me?”

“Yeah?”

“They’re important like your Kaa-san used to be important to me. I like them very much.”

Takumi frowned. “They’re not going to be more parents are they?”

Kaito had no idea how any of this was going to go. Or how long it would last. So no, he wasn’t going to optimistically picture Kudo and Ran helping parent Takumi next to their daughter years down the road. He squeezed Takumi’s hand gently. “Think of them like an aunt and uncle.”

“Like Keiko-basan?”

“Yeah, like Keiko.”

Takumi didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t protest as Kaito opened the gate and led them up to the front door.

Shinichi was the one who answered Kaito’s knock, Hanae in his arms and a slightly harried expression on his face as she kept trying to squirm free.

“Kaito,” he said, smiling. “You’re almost ten minutes later than you said you’d be.”

“In day to day life, I’m not always on time,” Kaito said.

“We almost missed the train,” Takumi revealed. “And he kept stopping to check his bag.”

Kaito blushed, but thankfully Takumi didn’t mention standing in front of the gates for over a minute before coming up. “Kudo, this is Takumi. Takumi, this is Kudo Shinichi and his daughter, Hanae.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Takumi said, because somehow Kaito and Aoko had managed to raise him with actual manners. It was a mystery how.

“It’s good to meet you too, Takumi-kun.” Kudo almost dropped his daughter as she gave an extra excited wiggle. “Hanae, can you please hold still?”

“Down!” she said. Kudo set her down and she stared at Takumi. Takumi took a step back. She smiled. “Play?” she asked, holding out one tiny hand.

Takumi gave Kaito and Kudo a wide-eyed, nervous look. “Uhhh.”

“You can play for a few minutes,” Kaito said. “But then we’ll have to go.”

“Um,” Takumi said, but he was already being tugged down the hall after an excited toddler, kicking off his shoes in an attempt to be proper. He could have gotten away from Hanae pretty easily so Kaito wasn’t too worried. If he got overwhelmed he could just come find them.

“Everything okay?” Kudo asked, leaning in to give Kaito a kiss on the cheek now that he didn’t have a squirming toddler in his arms.

“Good,” Kaito said, then more honestly, “a little nervous how Takumi is going to react; he’s not used to sharing me with people.”

“Well, it looks like Hanae will give him a distraction as far as that goes. Come in, Ran’s finishing packing the bentou boxes.”

“Right.” Kaito lifted the bag he was carrying. “I took the liberty of bringing some dessert. I hope that doesn’t clash with Ran-san’s meal. They’re pumpkin sweet breads.”

“You didn’t need to go to the trouble,” Kudo said, polite and it was just the edge of awkward because they were still figuring this out, how to be with each other.

Kaito gave himself a mental smack over the head. “It’s still the tail end of summer, but I am ready for autumn, Kudo, bring on cooler temperatures and the end of summer rain.”

“And all the autumn sweets?” Kudo joked.

Kaito grinned. “Exactly. Not that summer isn’t great—fruit sweets abound, but there’s something comforting about the earthier taste of pumpkin and sweet potato and chestnuts.”

“I’ll take your word for it. I’m not much of a sweets person.”

“The horror. I don’t think we can be friends now.”

Kudo elbowed Kaito in the side, trying not to laugh too hard at him. “But Kaito, that just means you and Ran get most of my share of sweets.”

“Ah, then we can be friends after all.”

“Just friends?” Kudo asked, well within Kaito’s personal space. Hmm. He hadn’t even noticed that happening; he was getting unnervingly comfortable around Kudo.

Kaito gave Kudo a false-bashful look. “Well...”

“Are you two flirting in the front doorway?” Ran said behind them.

Kaito twitched, but Kudo didn’t seem surprised at all. He sent Ran a grin, setting a hand on Kaito’s hip like it belonged there. “Maybe,” he said.

Ran laughed, one hand coming up like she was trying to muffle it. “Come inside already. Where are the children?”

“Hanae-chan kidnapped Takumi,” Kaito said, easing away from Kudo to take his shoes off.

“She’s probably showing him the toy Agasa brought her yesterday,” Kudo said. “Some new invention.”

“...Isn’t he the one who made your death shoes and that stun watch?” Kaito asked.

“Yeah, he’s a family friend and neighbor.”

Kaito had been aware of both these things but. “Is the toy... safe?”

“Would I let my three year old play with it if it wasn’t?” Kudo said. “Occasional explosions next door aside, he is capable of making something child safe. He makes stuff that’s on market at stores.”

“I feel like I should say something about the explosions, but considering my own track record with experiments blowing up in my face, I think it’s better to just let it go.”

“We can go check on them,” Ran said, soothing the part of him that insisted that children out of sight meant dangerous stunts happening. Takumi wasn’t actually that much of a problem most of the time compared to how Kaito had been at his age. It was only when he was put with Shiemi that things went to hell and ‘quiet’ meant ‘trouble’.

“Thank you.” Kaito gave her a theatrical kiss on the cheek which made her laugh again before holding up his bag. “Pumpkin sweet bread with pumpkin and bean paste filling. A taste of fall before it’s quite upon us.”

“Oh, that’s perfect. I didn’t have a dessert planned.” Ran kissed him back, on the lips and Kaito’s stomach flipped pleasantly.

It was like being a teenager again only with less mops and death threats and yelling... Okay it was nothing like how it had been with Aoko and there was nothing wrong with that. “Great. I’ll go check on the kids.”

Kaito found them in the library. They were sitting on the floor with picture books strewn around them and Hanae had her current favorite book—one with a dog going to see its friends written in both English and Japanese—and was happily holding up pictures and pointing out the animals. Kaito could see Takumi mouthing the words on the page, the simple kana easily within his reading ability.

“Having fun, kiddos?” Kaito said, crouching beside them.

Hanae gave him a brilliant smile. “Dog book!” she said, holding it up. “Read it?”

“I don’t think there’s time to read it right now, but we can read a book later if you’d like. How does that sound?”

She frowned and Takumi looked up at Kaito. “Both of us?” he asked.

“If you want a story too, yeah.”

“Then I want to read this.” He held up a Kaiketsu Zorori book, the cartoon fox thief grinning mischievously on the cover.

Aoko, for obvious reasons, didn’t like the series. Kaito, for equally obvious reasons, found them a lot of fun. Plus they had puns, who didn’t like puns?

“Only if you don’t mention it to your mother,” Kaito said, because he’d get an earful if Aoko knew.

Takumi, almost seven and entirely fed up with the drama of adults, rolled his eyes. “I know. And I read them with Shiemi all the time so.”

“Well aren’t you the rebel,” Kaito teased. He set both picture books aside. “Well there will be here when we get back from lunch and we can read them then, okay?” He got two nods and that was great because if Hanae chose to be upset, Kaito still didn’t have enough of a rapport with her to guarantee it wouldn’t become a meltdown. “Alright, now who’s ready to go to the park? We’re going to have a picnic and play on the playground, doesn’t that sound fun?”

“I wanna swing!” Hanae said, jumping to her feet with a little wobble. Takumi steadied her before Kaito could. It was adorable.

“There’s going to be swings, yep. Who do you want to push you? Kaa-san?”

“No,” Hanae said, grinning.

“Hmmm, Tou-san?”

“No!”

“Me?”

“No! Everyone!”

“Ah, I see. Everyone to push you on the swings. I hope not everyone in the world or that would be a lot of people. You might never leave that swing.”

Both Takumi and Hanae giggled.

“C’mon, kids, it’s picnic time.” Kaito stood and immediately Hanae held up her arms to be picked up. Kaito did, holding her in one arm. “Oof, look at you, you’re growing fast. I think you might have grown a little since I last saw you,” he said to her. Takumi caught his free hand. His son was biting his lip and looking a little unsure again, so Kaito of course bent back down and picked him up too. “Ah, and you have definitely grown since I last held you like this,” Kaito said to him. “I think you might grow up to be a giant!”

“Tou-san!” Takumi complained, but he was laughing as he clung to Kaito’s shoulders. Kaito grinned so hard his cheeks hurt. His arms were going to hate him later, but this was totally worth it.

“And away we go!” Kaito said, making horse clopping sounds like they were riding him into battle.

***

It wasn’t that Kaito meant to notice, it was just that it was one of those things that he was low key aware of, had been aware of, especially with Aoko. So when he didn’t notice Ran ever being on her period even when he was practically there every other night anymore, Kaito had to wonder. It wasn’t like there weren’t other explanations—Kudo and Ran never mentioned if birth control was something they used as well as condoms, but considering how Aoko had gotten pregnant and the signs that had followed that, Kaito was a bit more in tune to this sort of thing than he otherwise would have been. Which was why when he found Ran sitting in her bedroom after work one day, Hanae two rooms over playing, and a box in her lap, he wasn’t surprised.

“Ran-hime?” Kaito said softly, tapping on the doorway to catch her attention.

She looked up, startled, but relaxed seeing him. “Kaito. Hi.”

“Are you okay?”

Ran smiled, but her heart wasn’t really in it. “I’m fine, just...”

“Nervous about using that,” Kaito said, nodding at the box.

The smile slid from her face. “A bit. I already know what it’s going to tell me if I’m honest, but. It’s not that the idea upsets me, it’s just unexpected and with Hanae we planned everything out and I’m thinking about how hard it was toward the end of my pregnancy and the first few months with a new baby...”

Kaito came in the room and knelt by her side, taking her hand in his. “Hey, it’s going to be okay. Do you want another child?”

“Yes!” Ran said immediately. “Yes, Shinichi and I have talked about it a few times and how maybe one day... We’ve talked a lot recently. I just wasn’t expecting it,” she repeated. “I love children. The idea of having more than one never was a problem. And I sometimes wished I had a sibling when I was little, but there’s abstract thought and...”

“And there’s having the reality of it in your face,” Kaito finished. “I understand completely. Did you know that I was eighteen when Takumi was born? Completely unplanned, of course because we were both hormonal idiots who didn’t think, but I don’t think either of us ever regretted him even if we regret other things. The first months were hell. I barely slept and Aoko started the police academy before Takumi was a year old so I was on my own a lot...” He smiled at the bittersweet memory. “Thankfully you’re not going to be alone.”

Ran caught his face in her hands. “I know, Kaito. I’ll tell you now, I am expecting your help if I really am pregnant.”

“Of course,” Kaito said. “I’ll be there every step of the way right with Shinichi.”

She smiled and kissed him on the forehead. Kaito’s heart felt calm. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that he would be a third parent to any child Ran had.

“Are you going to use that or...?” Kaito nodded to the pregnancy test still in its box.

Ran squeezed his hand. “Yes. I just needed a moment to brace myself for proof. Because there’s knowing and there’s knowing.”

Kaito leaned up and gave her a kiss on the nose just to see her smile. “Want me to wait out here or?”

“Yes please.” She took the box to the adjoining bathroom.

Kaito sat on the bed. Down the hall, he could hear Hanae singing something to herself tunelessly. Either she’d inherited Shinichi’s tone-deafness or she was making up some song of her own. Kaito smiled as occasionally a word would be clear, something about cats and smiles. It felt like a long wait, but it was only a bit over five minutes before Ran came back out, holding the test stick out in front of her like an offering.

It was positive.

“No surprises there,” she said with another lopsided smile. “Missing my first period wasn’t all that surprising; I’m not terribly regular, but more than one...”

“Congratulations, Ran-hime, Hanae-chan is going to be a big sister.” Kaito offered her a flower, a white carnation since he was only carrying a few of those at the moment (he only had red roses lately when he planned to flirt with Kudo or Ran).

“Thank you, Kaito.” She took it, smiling, and that was all Kaito wanted, to see her smile. “We can tell Shinichi tonight.”

“Of course. Do you need some time on your own?”

“No.” She shook her head. “Play with Hanae while I start dinner?”

“If you need anything else, I’ll do my best to provide,” Kaito said with a shadow of his usual flirtatious wink. Ran laughed and shooed him out the door.

***

Kaito clicked through photos his mother sent from somewhere in the US, comfortably ensconced on Kudo’s living room couch with half a dozen pillows around him and a sleeping toddler on his chest. Kudo, who had spent the last fifteen minutes trying to organize his ever-growing collection of children’s books and movies glanced over his shoulder when Kaito stifled a laugh at one of the photos. The photo’s occupants were making unimpressed faces over a sign proclaiming the restaurant had the best Japanese food east of the Mississippi river. Kaito’s mother had her hand out in a thumbs down.

Kaito glanced over his shoulder to explain how looking for authentic Japanese food was something of a running joke for his mother, when Kudo made a choking sound. “Are you okay?” he asked instead.

Kudo was splotchy-pale, eyes fixed on the photo. “Who is that?”

“My mother?”

“No, the person with her.”

Kaito looked at the photo and back at Kudo. “Aunt Chris?”

“Aunt. She’s your aunt?”

“Not by blood, but she’s been friends with my mom for ages so she kind of feels like an aunt at this point. I’m pretty sure my dad trained her or her mom or something, Kaa-san’s kind of weird about it when I ask. Why?”

Kudo visibly forced himself calm and pinched the bridge of his nose, looking like he’d aged a year in a few minutes. “Kaito, that’s Vermouth. One of the Black Organization’s inner members. She’s supposed to be behind bars.”

Kaito blinked. “You’re sure?”

“I’ve been held at gunpoint by her at close range more than once. So yes, I’m sure.”

“Well shit.” Kaito’s had tea with her dozens of times, had his face pinched and been teased about his resemblance to Toichi almost as often. She’s met his son. “I... honestly don’t know what to say.”

“Did they say anything about where they were or what they were doing?” Kudo asked.

“I think they’re in the American Midwest? Somewhere? Kaa-san travels. A lot. About as much as your parents do honestly.”

“Doing what?”

“Haven’t a clue. Sometimes it’s visiting magicians Tou-san knew, sometimes it’s just seeing sights for the hell of it.” Kaito clicked back a few photos to his mother perched on a balcony railing with a glass of wine in hand and the same wild smile Kaito had inherited on her face. It must have been Chris that took the photo. “I always just thought she was running from Tou-san’s memory. She stayed until I was in junior high and then she was gone all the time and I was spending half my time at the Nakamori household like some awkward plus one to their family.” He clicked back to the first photo, just a selfie with a field of flowers in the back. “Guess whatever she’s been doing all these years might not be legal. Though Aunt Chris wasn’t in many photos until recently if that helps any.” Someone save him from more family secrets though. He could live with fewer surprises.

Kudo just kept rubbing his face like he had a headache. “Your mother is Phantom Lady, right?”

“Yep.” It wasn’t worth the effort to hide what was so thinly hidden.

“Is she still an active thief?”

“I’ve never asked. But given that she has been traveling for years and can still afford the house in Japan, it’s pretty likely.” He never asked how the family finances worked, mostly because he didn’t want to think too hard about it. So long as there had been money in the bank, he hadn’t let it bother him. “I know it bothers you, but she has a different set of morals than I do.” Not all thieves returned what they stole.

“I need to process this.”

Kaito sat up a bit, supporting Hanae and his laptop as he did. Hanae made a tiny unhappy sound before squishing her face more comfortably into his chest. “Is this a deal breaker?” Kaito asked, dropping all masks to show his seriousness.

“What?” Kudo stopped rubbing his temples. “No. Of course not. I accepted that you steal things, I can accept the fact that your family steals, I just can’t let myself dwell on it too long. No, I just have to get my head around the fact that Vermouth is still out there running around free and that there’s a chance she might show up here someday. I... really don’t get along with her.”

“I can’t imagine why,” Kaito said drily, relaxing. For a second there... He pushed the brief moment of panic away to decompress later. “Someone takes a potshot at your life a time or two and all.”

Kudo snorted. “Does your mother send photos often?”

“When she remembers to. We talk once a month or so unless there’s something else going on.” Kaito debated with himself a moment then added, “She’s helped a few times with heists over the years.” He still hadn’t forgiven her for not being there when Jii died.

“Ah. Good to know.”

“Don’t try to profile her when you meet her.” Kaito tilted his head back, frowning as something occurred to him. “Actually you probably have already met before. I have a vague memory of meeting your mother before so it wouldn’t be too weird if she met you when you were a kid.”

Kudo grimaced. “I don’t know how to feel about that. How likely is it that I meet your mother?”

“If our relationship lasts, it’s a definite thing, but as to when... dunno when she’ll be in Japan next. Could be a matter of weeks or half a year. There’s no rhyme or reason to when she comes and goes that I’ve noticed.”

“I’ll brace myself for the eventuality then.”

“Maa, you make it sound like it’s a burden.”

“Have you seen my relationship with my in-laws? I seem to bring out the parental protective streak against me. I can’t imagine this going differently.”

“Fair enough. You are a detective to my thief.”

“...Let me know if Vermouth shows up in any more photos?”

“Sure thing, Kudo.”

“I’ve told you to call me Shinichi,” Kudo complained.

“I’ll break my habit eventually, you’ve just been Kudo for years.”

“You’re as bad as Heiji,” Kudo grumbled.

“Me? Never,” Kaito said, going back to his mother’s email. He smiled as Kudo huffed and went back to work on organizing. “Love you too, Shinichi~!” He grinned to himself as Kudo made another choking noise behind him. ‘Love’ was still a new enough word between them to leave Shinichi’s face a wonderful red every time.

***

Normally Kaito would pick up or drop off Takumi at Aoko’s place, but for once she was picking Takumi up from him, and of course it was one of the days he was at the Kudo home rather than his apartment or childhood home. They’d skirted around the whole thing for the last few months, but the happier Kaito grew with how things were going in his life, he could see how uncomfortable Aoko continued to be.

They were in another awkward phase, but at least it wasn’t the cold, brittle sort of awkward at the moment—provided a Kid heist hadn’t just occurred.

It was Ran who got the door. She’d been warned that Aoko was coming. It would have been Kaito answering the door, but Takumi was refusing to pack up his toys in his travel bag and generally dragging his feet about going home to Aoko because Hanae was going to get to go see a live sentai show with her grandparents tomorrow and it wasn’t fair that he didn’t get to go too. Kaito was sympathetic, really, but after the third snit-fit in the last two hours, his patience was running a bit thin.

“Tell you what,” Kaito said, putting Takumi’s action figures back in his bag as fast as Takumi was taking them back out again. “If you’re really really good for the next month, I can look into seeing if you can go to a Christmas show. But only if you’re good.”

“But it’s not the same!” Takumi said. “It won’t be Red-Blue morph against the Gold Beetle!”

“No, but it could be the whole Mountain Team on ice. Wouldn’t that be cooler? Fighting monsters on ice skates?”

Takumi gave him a disgusted look, like ice skating battles couldn’t possibly be as cool as what the stage production promised.

“I’m sorry kiddo, but that’s how it goes. You have school to go to anyway.”

“But I don’t even want to go to school. I hate it.”

“You don’t hate it,” Kaito said with patience he didn’t feel. “You wouldn’t get to see Shiemi and Yuu-kun as often if you didn’t have school.”

“Shiemi’s in another year,” Takumi grumbled.

He was normally such a well behaved kid, too. Kaito put his hands on his hips. “You like gym class and arts and crafts and reading new books. You’d be sad and bored if you didn’t go to school and you know it. Now up. Your Kaa-san is probably here already.”

“She is,” Aoko said from the doorway, less than amused.

Ran stood a few feet behind her. She shot Kaito an apologetic look and a shrug. Kaito’s shoulders slumped for a half second before he pasted a smile on his face.

“See, she’s here already!” Kaito said.

Takumi scowled, caught between greeting his mother and continuing his tantrum. Kaito almost thought it would tip in favor of Aoko but Takumi’s lip wobbled and his face screwed up and Kaito looked at the ceiling as he started crying.

Kaito pushed Takumi’s travel bag into Aoko’s hands. “Okay. This is going nowhere, so I think we’re going to have a bit of a time out and try again, hmm?” Takumi cried harder and Kaito hadn’t had to deal with this since Takumi was three and theoretically it should have been easier to rationalize with a seven year old than a three year old. “We’re going to give you some space so you can calm down, okay?”

Walking away from a crying child was not something that came naturally but Kaito was frankly running out of ideas. He shut the door behind him, Takumi’s muffled voice on the other side and sighed. “Hell,” Kaito said.

“It looks like you’ve had a fun weekend,” Aoko said, and her tone could either be joking or mocking. Given how they usually were toward each other, he was betting toward mocking.

“Sorry,” he said, “it’s not always sunshine and roses.”

“My fault,” Ran cut in, ever the peacemaker. “I should have waited to tell Hanae about the show until he left.”

“It’s not your fault,” Kaito said. “He probably would be upset if he heard about it after the fact too.”

Aoko didn’t say anything to that, but Kaito could see her scoff under her breath. Kaito frowned at her and the tense way she held herself a bit back from Ran, and ah, that was jealousy there, and dislike which wasn’t fair to Ran but not very surprising. He’d probably feel something similar if Aoko showed up with a man at her side tomorrow despite how illogical it would be. It didn’t make this any less uncomfortable though.

���I’ll give him five or ten minutes,” Kaito said to Ran, “then send him home. He’ll probably be calmer once he lets it all out.”

“Do you want tea in the meantime?” Ran offered, looking at Aoko.

And Aoko just looked at Kaito and said, “No thank you,” in a clipped voice that shut down any more offers and any possible attempts at conversation too.

Kaito gave Ran a strained smile. “Thanks, Ran, I think we’ll be fine.” It was a dismissal, but he softened it with a reassuring touch to her arm even though it made Aoko tense up further. “I’ll be up to read Hanae-chan a bedtime story later okay?”

Ran’s politeness warred with her instinct to be supportive. Giving Kaito his privacy won out. “If you need anything...”

“I’ll let you know, thanks.” His smiled dropped once she was out of sight. “Must you?” he said to Aoko.

Aoko flushed. “Shut up! I am trying! I am really trying, Kaito!”

Kaito crossed his arms. In the library, Takumi’s cries were becoming quieter, so he lowered his voice as well. “That was as awkward as that time in third year where you almost hit Koizumi because she flirted with me despite the fact that she was flirting with me from day one.”

“We’d just started dating then!” Aoko hissed, getting in his face. She faltered immediately. Once, arguments were practically foreplay, but now there was just one more layer of awkward and distance and hurt there to keep it from ever being that again. “It’s just seeing you like that, all domestic with them is like looking at what we were and my brain keeps throwing what-ifs at me like we haven’t been down that road a billion times! I thought I went through all of this bullshit when we divorced, but I guess not!”

Kaito didn’t budge. “I get that. But could you keep your anger on me? Ran hasn’t done anything to you.”

“I know that!” And there Aoko’s voice rose. Behind the door, Takumi went abruptly quiet. “I know that,” Aoko repeated. She closed her eyes a moment. “I’m trying, Kaito. It’s going to take a bit longer.”

“Okay.” He’d accept that this was her best right now. “I’m sorry about Takumi. I really did plan to have him ready to go.”

“What is he upset about anyway?”

“Hanae gets to see a stage performance with his favorite sentai series and he’s mad he doesn’t get to go. Which, okay, I get, but if it was one of his friends he wouldn’t be so upset.”

“Of course not,” Aoko said, “but Hanae-chan isn’t like a friend, is she? She’s like a sister.”

Kaito blinked, looked at the situation from the new angle. “Oh.” Huh. “I hadn’t thought of it like that.”

“And you’re sending him home with me and reading her a bedtime story tonight and she’s getting to go to see the show.” Aoko crossed her arms. “Obviously he’s upset. How much time have you been spending with him one on one lately?”

“Some. We still go places together and I’ve been showing him how to do simple magic tricks...” But he’d been at the Kudo house with Takumi a lot more this last month. And the Kudo house inevitably meant Hanae. And while Takumi and Hanae mostly got along, there had been some tension over who got Kaito’s attention when they spent a lot of time together. “So it’s because he’s jealous?”

“Probably. Honestly Kaito, it’s not that hard to figure out.”

“You weren’t the one dealing with the last hour of having to track down all his toys when he kept hiding them,” Kaito muttered. Or alternately being yelled at or given the cold shoulder. “I’ll have to do more one on one things...”

Aoko nodded. She didn’t look upset anymore, probably because she felt in control again in one-upping Kaito in understanding their son. “He will have to learn how to share though. If you stay with the Kudos.”

“I plan to,” Kaito said, just a bit too sharp.

Aoko didn’t rise to meet it this time. “He’ll have to learn,” she repeated. “So there might be more melt downs like this one.”

“Joy.”

She snorted. “I’m sure I’ll have my share to deal with too, Bakaito.”

Kaito would get the worst of it though. If there were struggles now, how would it be when Ran had a second child? How would Hanae handle being a sibling actually? That was stress waiting to happen. But a thought for another day. “I think he’s calmed down now,” Kaito said.

They opened the door and found Takumi curled in a ball with his chin resting on his knees, looking at the door like it had personally destroyed his dreams. He had devastating puppy-dog eyes when he thought to use them, but he wasn’t the manipulative type most of the time. As it was, having that look on him the second he opened the door had Kaito feeling guilty for leaving Takumi in the room in the first place even if it had been five minutes at most.

He knelt down next to him. “Feeling better?”

Takumi sniffed. “No.” He looked between Kaito and Aoko. “Are you fighting again?”

“Not this time,” Aoko said. “Are you ready to go home?”

“No,” Takumi said again.

“Are you sure? You don’t want to have your special banana bread toast for breakfast or read the new book Ojii-san gave you?”

Takumi pouted. “Ran-obasan makes bunny pancakes and there’s lots of books here.”

“Well I could make you bunny pancakes at home and you have your favorite pajamas there too.”

Kaito knew that Aoko had won when Takumi didn’t say anything.

Kaito held out an arm. “Can I get a hug before you go?”

He was scowling but Takumi did hug him. He held on tight like he wouldn’t let Kaito go. “It’s not fair,” he mumbled into Kaito’s shoulder.

“I know, but there will be other shows.”

“She’s too little to even remember it,” Takumi said. More softly he added, “And she gets to have everything.”

“Oh?”

“She gets to do cool things and has fun grandparents and has Shinichi-ojisan and Ran-obasan and you all the time.”

Ah. And Aoko was right. He held Takumi closer. “Can I tell you a secret?” Kaito whispered. He felt Takumi nod against his neck. “Hanae has all those things, but you know what? You have me and Shiemi and your Kaa-san and Ojii-san and Obaa-san who do fun things with you too. And do you know what else you have? You have Shinichi-ojisan and Ran-obasan too. If Hanae has me, you have them too, okay? You’re lucky and get all the cool parents too. Plus Aoko. Hanae doesn’t have Aoko.”

Takumi sniffed, probably getting snot all over Kaito’s shoulder, but that was fine. This was important. “You think?”

“I know,” Kaito said. “And remember what I said, if you’re good we can go to see a sentai show together.”

“Just us?”

“If you want. Or you can invite Shiemi along or something too.”

Takumi clung tight for a second then let go. “Okay.”

Kaito smiled and ruffled his son’s hair so it was even messier than it was naturally. “Be good for your mom, okay?”

Takumi nodded and moved to Aoko to hug her too.

Kaito felt the weight of the situation drain from him. Thank goodness that was over.

“Time to go,” Aoko said. “But can you apologize to your father for yelling at him first? You’re old enough to know better than that.”

Takumi looked down at the floor. “Sorry, Tou-san...”

“You’re forgiven.” He needed to read up on some things. Maybe figure out how to handle this whole situation better. And maybe look into more ways that Takumi could identify and express his emotions. It would probably be healthy for both of them because goodness knew how bad Kaito was with that sort of thing himself. “See you later, Takumi.”

Takumi waved and Aoko waved and Kaito walked with them to the front door where they repeated the process after putting shoes on. Once they were gone he sat down in the genkan for a moment just to let himself decompress a moment. It had been a long afternoon.

Ran found him there minutes, or maybe closer to half an hour later.

“Everything okay?” she asked.

“I think so,” Kaito said. “I think this is Takumi working out more or less not being an only child anymore. Probably.”

“He’s doing fine. He’s already a good brother,” Ran said, accepting that Takumi already was a sibling when Kaito was still wrapping his mind around the idea. Kaito was helping raise two children now, wasn’t he? And soon there’d be a third. “And you’re doing fine as a parent. Trust me.”

Kaito trusted her. She knew what a divorced family could look like, and if anyone could see how hard they were all trying to make this work, Ran could. “Thanks, Ran.”

“Are you staying the night?”

Leave when all he wanted to do was find Shinichi in the study and drag him and Ran into one comfortable cuddle pile? Never. “Sorry, you’re stuck with me. I’ve lost my return label. You have to keep me forever.”

**

The baby was tiny, red and wrinkly and unhappy to be in the world if her expression was anything to go by. All the anxiety and tension of the day left Kaito as he saw Ran holding her. Shinichi was by her side first but Kaito was right behind him. Ran’s parents were still out in the waiting area, but Kaito was, by Shinichi’s insistence, here to experience this. This, more than anything over the last few months cemented that he was part of their lives. Part of...of them as a unit.

Ran looked exhausted and careworn, but happy. Very happy as she ran a finger gently across the baby’s cheek. “She’s healthy and whole,” Ran said.

“And finally facing the world,” Shinichi said, sounding relieved. She’d been late and then it had been a long labor, longer than Kaito remembered with Takumi. “She’s got your nose.” Shinichi leaned against Ran and for a moment Kaito just watched them, warm, complicated emotions tangling up inside of him before Shinichi held out the arm not wrapped around Ran and Kaito went to him to be pulled into this huddle of parental warmth.

“I know we threw around a few names,” Ran said looking down at the bundle in her arms. “But what do you think about Midori?”

“As in the color or as in greenery?” Shinichi said.

“Greenery,” Ran said. “Is it weird to want to keep plant names for girls as a start of a family thing?”

“Sounds like a good one. Better than Shinichi or me,” Kaito said, “since our first names boil down to puns.”

Ran laughed softly. “Midori then.”

Shinichi pulled Kaito and Ran in closer, leaning his head on Ran’s shoulder. Midori made a tiny sound, face scrunching up even more and Ran soothed the irritation away. Kaito couldn’t look away. A baby, a child, a tiny new human being. It remained some kind of miracle how a bunch of cells could become this, could become a child like Hanae or Takumi with personalities and dreams and preferences. It was moments like this that felt more magical than any actual magic, stage or supernatural, that Kaito had come across.

“We should probably get the grandparents,” Shinichi said. He didn’t move though. They all watched Midori sleep a little longer.

**

Kaito had Takumi’s photo album out—it didn’t get updated often, but he tried to keep a record of his life, and lately with the Kudos Kaito felt like he’d found more reasons to take photos than he had in recent years. The new photos had been tucked into their plastic sheets. Shinichi was taking a rare quiet moment to join him in sorting through some of his own photos, starting an album for Midori and updating the one they had for Hanae.

Kaito, full of nostalgia, flipped backward through Takumi’s album. Shiemi was in almost half the pictures with him, and the further back Kaito flipped, the more memories tugged at him, so many tiny moments that had meant so much. Takumi at four, three, two, just walking... He flipped bit further to when Takumi was a newborn. Apparently Takumi looked a lot like Kaito had as a baby but Kaito never took out his baby photos to compare. The same eye shape and facial structure and the same long fingers...

Kaito paused, something tugging at the back of his mind. Scattered on the coffee table were photos of Hanae and Midori. There was one that just... Kaito picked up a photo of Midori and held it next to Takumi’s baby photo. They were both in almost the same position making nearly identical wrinkle-nosed expressions. If you took away Midori’s nose shape which she got from Ran...

“Huh.”

Well, Kaito and Shinichi did look alike, but that was a little... surprising how well Midori’s photo lined up with Takumi.

“What?” Shinichi said, looking up from sorting through Hanae-in-dresses photos.

Kaito handed the two photos over.

“Huh,” Shinichi echoed. “You think...?”

“I don’t know. Do you have any photos of you as a baby to compare?”

“Not on had though my parents probably have some in the attic or library.” Shinichi tipped his head to the side. “The timing would fit.”

“Would it?” Kaito tried to count back.

“Your first time with us,” Shinichi clarified. “Part of me wondered but. It wasn’t important.”

“That seems pretty important to know.” Kaito would have wanted to know.

“It’s not like it changes anything. Midori’s our daughter,” he said, and yes it was that simple, but at the same time... “You look a lot like me so no one would notice the difference anyway.”

“What if I hadn’t ended up staying?”

Shinichi shrugged. “I don’t know. I can’t say how I’d be in a hypothetical situation. But we don’t even know if she’s yours or mine anyway.”

“Do you want to know?” Kaito asked, feeling... not uncomfortable, but having a moment where he realized he probably would not have been so relaxed about this if it had happened the other way around. He wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

Shinichi pursed his lips. “We should probably check for medical reasons. I don’t know anything about your family medical history. But it doesn’t change things. It shouldn’t anyway. She’s my daughter as much as she is yours no matter who her genetic father is.”

A month ago Koizumi sent Kaito a photo of two newborn girls announcing that she’d had twins and Kaito had gone through a similar range of emotions in a short span of time. Discomfort mixed with worry and longing and a peculiar sort of joy that he could only guess stemmed from knowing that he had another blood relative in the world. Midori was his daughter in the ways Shinichi meant; Kaito changed her diapers and took turns with Ran and Shinichi in feeding and calming and playing and all the little tasks that babies required. He was pretty much another parent to Hanae too by now. It was a little silly to have some deeper emotion about a blood tie. Part of him hoped that Midori was his even though he wouldn’t do anything differently if she was or wasn’t.

Kaito scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Yeah. It’s just weird. I didn’t even consider that was a possibility.”

Shinichi snorted. “I’m not sure why you wouldn’t.”

“Well, I was with you one time and then it was about a month and a half before we got sexual again, more than two before we—” Kaito blushed. “Anyway, it didn’t seem likely.”

“We’ll get a test done,” Shinichi said, handing Takumi’s photo back. “Just to know.”

“Just to know,” Kaito echoed, tucking the photo back in the album.  He wasn’t sure if he would be relieved if it turned out she was his or not. He resolved that he wouldn’t let it affect how he interacted with any of them in any way though. He would just. Know. And that would be enough.

Unspecified future:

Kaito made a soft, pleased sound on his throat, sandwiched as he was between Shinichi at his front and Ran at his back. All the perks of feeling every inch of them—Ran’s soft curves against his back and strong thighs bracketing his hips, Shinichi’s firm chest to Kaito’s chest and Shinichi’s perfect butt at just the right height for optimal grabbing. Kaito arched as Shinichi captured his lips, using that same ass as leverage to get closer. Ran stroked Kaito’s sides, Shinichi’s back, her lips warm on Kaito’s neck, and yes, this was his favorite place to be, caught up between them all warm and safe. Shinichi drew back a breath and moved lips across Kaito’s jaw, down toward his neck. Kaito tipped his head back against Ran’s shoulder to give him better access.

Shinichi kissed the hollow of Kaito’s throat before suddenly jerking back. “Wait.”

“What?” Kaito froze and Ran paused, one hand on Kaito’s abs, the other on Shinichi’s collarbone—it had been on his shoulder before he moved.

“Wait, sorry, just—” Shinichi scrambled up, diving for where he’d thrown his underwear. “I gotta—case!” he explained badly.

“Kudo Shinichi are you thinking about murders while you’re in bed with us?!” Kaito demanded.

“Sorry!” Shinichi said, legging it out the bedroom door in only his underwear, pants and shirt in his free hand.

“What the fuck?”

At his back, Ran started laughing, the full-body, almost silent sort of laughter where it wheezed out of you.

Kaito tipped his head to the side. “Are we that boring?”

“Oh my god,” Ran gasped, sides shaking hard enough that Kaito slid off her shoulder and gracelessly into her lap. “That’s just so—!”

“So Shinichi,” Kaito agreed with a sigh. He met Ran’s grin and started laughing too until they were both giggly messes. “I am going to hold this over him forever!” Kaito said, gasping for breath.

Ran swatted him ineffectually, still laughing too hard to even aim right. “I’d be annoyed—but—your face!”

“Our clothes came off like ten minutes ago! He shouldn’t have been able to think about cases!”

“It’s Shinichi.” Ran grinned down at him. Kaito was suddenly very aware that he was still tucked between her thighs.

He trailed a hand over one, from hip to knee, enjoying how her expression went from amused to interested in record time. “So. There’s no reason why we can’t just continue. Shinichi’s loss.”

Ran snorted, one hand coming up to cover her face. Once upon a time Kaito used to think there was nothing more exhilarating than being chased by Aoko when she was angry, but honestly? Ran laughing did things to him that even seeing Aoko flushed with flustered irritation didn’t do when he was seventeen and hormonal as hell.

“Well, he was the one rude enough to run out on us,” Ran said, eyes sparkling. “And we have a nice comfy bed that we’re already naked in...”

“Shame to waste that.”

Ran kissed him.  Kaito grinned, heart singing like he’d pulled off the best heist performance of his life. Really, Shinichi’s loss.

***

The heist was a close call. A gunshot while he was taking the gem, a few centimeters too wide but close enough that shattered glass had caught the exposed skin at his wrists and a few places on his face. Thankfully nothing deep, but it was more of his blood on scene that he’d had to take time to clean even as he fled. The gem, of course, had not been Pandora. But there hadn’t been collateral this time so Kaito counted that as a win.

He’d retreated to the Kudo manor because it was closer to the Beika museum than his apartment or his childhood home. Of course that meant he woke Shinichi and Ran up coming in through the bedroom window.

In retrospect, he probably should have used the front door; it would have been more inconspicuous. Habit, however, had him half through the window before he even thought about the fact that they were sleeping.

“Kaito?” Shinichi mumbled, still half asleep as he turned on the bedside lamp.

“Go back to sleep, I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Kid,” Shinichi corrected, seeing Kaito still in his gear. “The heist, how did—you’re hurt.”

“What?” Ran sat up and paled when she saw him.

“It’s not that bad,” Kaito said with a sigh. He slid the window shut.

“Kaito, you have blood all down the side of your face,” Ran said. She crossed around the bed and Shinichi followed a moment later.

Kaito ignored them and headed for the bathroom. “It was just a bit of glass. It looks worse than it is.”

“Snipers?” Shinichi asked, awake and needing to know everything.

“Yes, but clearly not a very good sniper.”

That joke fell flat. Kaito hauled out the fully stocked first aid kit and pulled out bandages, antiseptic ointment, alcohol and tweezers on the off chance there was any glass slivers still in the wound. By the time he had everything out and lined up on the countertop, Ran had a wet washcloth waiting.

“I can clean my own wounds,” Kaito said. He wasn’t used to having anyone help with this sort of thing. His mother was almost never around, and by the time he met up with Jii after heists in the past, he’d have already cleaned up and bandaged anything that needed bandaging.

“You can, but you don’t have to,” Ran said. She stared Kaito down until he relented, offering his face first. Shinichi took off this hat and monocle, setting them to the side as Ran cleaned blood off his cheek. The cloth felt rough against dozens of tiny cuts, stinging as they were tugged open again.

“They’re the same people from last time, correct?” Shinichi said, watching like the detective he was, like a predator waiting for the twitch of a mouse’s tail to pounce on.

“So far as I’m aware, it’s always the same people. Snipers that is.” He flinched as Ran disinfected the cuts. She turned his face this way and that, looking for any sign of lingering glass. “Usually it’s a kill shot attempt from a distance, but every now and then they send someone to threaten face to face—ow!”

“Hm, hold still, there’s a splinter stuck. You’re lucky that missed your eye.” Ran readied the tweezers.

“I’m always lucky,” Kaito argued. “Anyway, yes, same people.” He shivered. “They’re getting bolder.”

“They shot your partner.”

Kaito sent a glare Shinichi’s way because they might not have ever talked about it, but Shinichi knew what drove Kaito closer to them. He was a detective, he wouldn’t have missed the connection between the body found near a Kid heist and Kaito’s depressive spiral shortly after. That didn’t mean Kaito was any more ready to put that into words. He didn’t talk about most of his emotions. Most of his emotions were a mess and it would take too long to find a beginning or end to untangle them in the first place so Shinichi could leave that particular snarl of hell alone.

Shinichi nodded, like Kaito’d said everything out loud anyway. “What is your end goal here? I know you’re after a gem and I’ve pieced together it has some sort of myth attached. So why are they trying to kill you, Kaito?”

“Guess.”

Ran put a bandage on Kaito’s face none too gently. “Stop being angry at us, we’re helping,” Ran said. She grabbed Kaito’s hand next, honing in on the next sign of blood.

“...I’m trying to find a mythical gem that grants immortality before the people looking for it can get it. I don’t know why they want it, and frankly I don’t give a fuck why they want it. All I know is they killed my dad for it and would kill me, and that’s enough to make me want to keep it away from them.” Kaito let out a hiss of pain as Ran worked on his wrist, the worst of the damage. “Originally I wanted to get them all arrested, but the whole thing just gets deeper the more I look into it and all I have is a bunch of files on people and not enough concrete proof to do anything about it. And that’s only scratching the surface.”

“You have files?” Shinichi said.

“Of course I have files. I have to know who might be crooked on the police force. Granted that end of things is kind of patchy since I usually can only look into where evidence goes missing. But I haven’t spent almost a decade at this without learning to keep track of where things happen or who happened to be involved with things outside the police.” Some of Kaito’s irritation ebbed as he noticed Shinichi’s thoughtful expression. “Why?”

“Because, that’s evidence. And if there’s evidence you can build a case from it. Is it usually the same person trying to kill you? How big of a group are we talking about?”

“I’m... not sure. There used to be a man called Snake, and then there was Jackal and Rose, but they’re not active anymore, at least one of them is dead...” Indirectly due to Kaito for one of them, but he wasn’t going to think too hard about that. “There are at least two people I’ve noticed lately but there could be more. And that’s just the assassins. I don’t know much about the higher ups. Jackal liked to talk, but I only got him face to face a few times. The thing with snipers is that it’s hard to get close to them since they’re usually trying to kill you from a distance.”

“I understand that. But Kaito, when it comes to taking down crime organizations, do you know anyone with more experience than I do?”

Kaito went cold. He turned sharply, ignoring Ran’s protest as he jerked in her grip. “No. You aren’t getting involved. My life is in enough danger, I don’t want them trying to kill you too.”

Shinichi crossed his arms. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I think I’m already involved. I’m involved with you, and if they’re targeting you, then it’s already my problem. Even if you can guarantee that this group of yours doesn’t have the slightest idea of your civilian identity, the fact that I attend heists could put me in danger. People are currently in danger at every heist you have. Tell me, why isn’t it in the best interest of everyone involved that I look into this?”

“Kudo. Shinichi. This isn’t just in Japan. They’re active around the world. I just haven’t had much opportunity to interact with them out of Japan. Last time you ran into a group like that you spent two years as a seven-year-old and almost died half a dozen times that I know of. I asked you to avoid heists because I didn’t want to put you more at risk.”

“Again, the points I just made. Besides, Kaito, there are always people who are going to want to take a shot at me or my loved ones. Always. I deal with murderers remember?”

How could Kaito forget? Just two days ago Kaito watched him solve a murder case over what was supposed to be a quick lunch out together while they were on work break. “Ran?” Kaito said, hoping she could knock some sense into him.

Ran wouldn’t meet his eyes. “You know as well as I do that you’re not going to be able to convince him not to seek justice when people are being murdered, Kaito,” she said, dabbing ointment on Kaito’s wrists.

“But—”

“Kaito,” she said gently. “I don’t like the idea of him getting caught up with something that big again, but it’s better if he’s ahead of them than them coming for him without warning.” She smiled sadly. “And that would happen. They already have an idea who you are, don’t they? Since they found your partner?”

“...They shouldn’t. Not right now.”

“Right now?” Shinichi said sharply. “What did you do?”

Kaito winced. “I didn’t kill anyone. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Kaito.”

“Shinichi.” Kaito said back.

Shinichi huffed. Then he caught Kaito’s chin in one hand so Kaito had to meet his eyes, a challenge and a promise burning in them. “Kaito, let me help. I can’t promise that I’d be able to get rid of them entirely, but getting them out of Japan? I already have the connections that would make that possible. I just need information and leads to follow.”

Kaito wanted to believe him. Desperately. He also had too clear a memory of Jii’s corpse. And fainter but equally traumatic, his father’s death.

“Trust me. I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t think I would be able to do it and keep myself and my family safe.”

It wasn’t even a year yet since Jii.

Kaito closed his eyes so he wouldn’t have to see Shinichi’s sincerity.

“Fine,” Shinichi sighed. “I’m dropping this for now, but this isn’t over.”

Ran finished with his wrists and Kaito let her. Let her bandage them and let Shinichi stand close and trace the fine, tiny scars that were already on Kaito’s face from times glass shattered on him in the past. He knew Shinichi with a goal in mind was as relentless and targeted as a hunting dog with a scent. He wasn’t going to let this go. And as good as Kaito was at playing the fox, he wasn’t going to be able to avoid the topic forever. Not when he was half living with Shinichi and Ran. Eventually Shinichi would wear him down. And Kaito would give him what he wanted to know. The future was clear in Kaito’s head, how this would go, but beyond surrendering what he knew, he couldn’t predict where things would go from there. Because he knew Shinichi and Shinichi had always gotten the culprit in the end.

So Kaito had a tiny flame of hope.

But he didn’t nurture it because he couldn’t afford to. He’d still keep Shinichi away from his mess as long as he could. He fell for people because of their passion and drive, not in spite of it, even when he knew it had a likelihood of coming back to hurt him.

Kaito hoped that this wouldn’t hurt him.

He wanted to learn to get used to coming home to people who would sit him down and look at his wounds and worry over him.

***

Kaito raise a glass in toast. Aoko, on the other side of her kitchen table, mirrored him. “To Nakamori-keibu. May he have a peaceful, well-earned retirement.” He drank.

“Toast for him fighting on literal decades despite dealing with your bullshit,” Aoko said.

“Both Oyaji and my bullshit,” Kaito corrected. “Nakamori-keibu, the underrated terrier who never gave up nipping at our heels.”

“Don’t call my dad a dog,” Aoko said, but she drank too. They’d both drank tonight. A lot. Miraculously nothing was broken yet.

“It’s the end of an era,” Kaito said. “What is he going to do with all that time on his hands? Take up knitting? Do Tai Chi? Finally work on his anger management issues?”

Aoko swatted him. That was deserved. “He’s taking a vacation and planning to do volunteer work. If his back lets him. You know how bad it’s been.”

Nakamori hadn’t done much chasing for the last year. The retirement wasn’t exactly a surprise. “I’ll have to adjust to someone new running heists. How many habits will I have to break?”

“Shush you whiner. You’re not allowed to complain.” Aoko glared. Kaito relented. Two years ago they wouldn’t be sharing drinks let alone talking about her father’s retirement and Kid over Aoko’s kitchen table, so... Yeah, no room to complain. “I wonder if Tou-san will start talking to you again now that I talk to you?”

“Nah, I broke your heart. He hates me.”

“Doesn’t.”

“Does,” Kaito said, sticking his tongue out childishly as he stole Aoko’s bottle of whiskey to top up his glass. She had the sort of liquor taste Jii had approved of, Kaito mused, swirling the liquid so the light played off it. “He’s spent the last...” Kaito couldn’t count the years at the moment. “Long time... Ignoring me whenever we were in the same room. Or glaring. A lot of glaring.”

“He doesn’t. He’d have caught you if he did.”

“He doesn’t know who I am, Aoko.”

“He does. And he doesn’t?” She wobbled a hand in the air. “He knows but doesn’t want to know? Like me before? Everything’s there he just doesn’t want to see it like I didn’t. So sorta knowing.”

Kaito rolled his eyes. “Doesn’t count.”

Aoko stole the whiskey back. “Uh yeah it does because he could have authorized lethal force for how long you’ve been active but he never did.”

“He isn’t the type to use lethal violence on a non-lethal thief.”

“Hm,” Aoko hummed, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. “I’m going to throw my name in for Tou-san’s position.”

Kaito choked on his drink, whiskey burning through his nasal passages as he coughed and sputtered. “What? Why?”

“Why not?” Aoko said.

“You know why not!”

“You and Kudo kicked your killers out of Japan. Locked them up. It’s safer than working homicides these days.” Aoko propped her head on one hand, clearly amused as hell at catching him off guard. “Plus think of the pay raise.”

“Out of Japan, not out of existence!” Kaito said, fighting his drunk brain for clear thought. “I don’t want you being more of a target!”

“You’re such a hypocrite Kaito,” Aoko said calmly. “Besides. I’m not going to get it first off. Not enough experience and I’m a woman. I’ll have to prove I can do better than whatever dumbass they hire before I’d get the job.”

“You don’t seem to think they’ll hire anyone good...” Kaito set his glass down. It might be time to drink some water.

“You see the kind of people I work with? Half of them are idiots, another quarter are thrill seekers, and the ones with brains tend to get in trouble because they thought out of the box and it led to doing something against a direct order. I have to figure out how to work in the constraints but think creative and do twice as good as the next guy to get the job.” She smirked, total confidence in her posture that normally never showed. It was probably because she was drunk, but Kaito’s drunk brain informed him that she looked really hot at the moment. Kaito’s drunk brain could shut up because they were both taken at the moment. Besides how completely idiotic it would be to restart anything with their history. “But I can do it.”

“I know you can, but why would you want to?”

“Someone’s gotta watch your idiot back,” Aoko said with a shrug. “And I’m good at making it look like I want to catch you even when I don’t.”

Years with a mop, Kaito thought. Much dodging. Mutual dodging? Who even knew at this point. “If they know that you know who I am then you’d be in so much trouble. You’d be fired. Maybe arrested.”

“Like I’m not already going to be?” Aoko said. She snorted. “Give up Kaito, I can do what I want.”

Kaito conceded. She always did what she wanted anyway regardless of how he felt. “You know, maybe we shouldn’t have broke out the whiskey and drank like half a dozen shots.”

“You’re not sad drunk today so it’s not a mistake.” Aoko, somehow doing better than Kaito despite drinking just as much and being a good bit lighter, finished off what was in her glass. “If you cry on me I’m kicking you out.”

“Ugh, I’m not gonna cry.” He might end up calling Shinichi or Ran to pick him up though because it wasn’t going to be a good idea to let him loose when drunk. He did stupid stupid things when drunk. Granted he’d probably just climb his lovers’ window and try to proposition them again. Kaito eyed the whiskey in his glass. At what point of drunkness did he lose all sense of embarrassment and impulse control?

“To getting shitfaced over the end of a crime-fighting era!” Aoko said, pouring herself a little bit more alcohol. The bottle was alarmingly low considering it was just the two of them drinking and it had been full before they started.

“Aw, hell,” Kaito said. “We only live once.” Get shitfaced with Aoko because they had reached the point where they could do this. Sure. Worth the hangover tomorrow. Thank god Takumi was with Shiemi and Keiko this weekend. “Don’t let me climb anything.”

“You’re not gonna climb things, you’re gonna do a magic show for me because it’s been freaking years and I like the thing with the...the...” She waved a hand and it could be anything from a card bridge to making something vanish and reappear.

“I’m not at my best drunk,” Kaito warned.

“The room is tilting and I’m easily impressed.”

Kaito snorfled into his drink. What the hell. “Cheers to magic,” he said, stealing Aoko’s glass and downing it. He’d regret it in the morning but tonight he was going to have fun with his one-time best friend.

 ***

“Hey Takumi?” Shiemi said. Tucked up under the blanket fort in the Kudo living room, she was cast in shadows. Takumi could barely make out her face, but something in her voice said that this was something important. The sort of thing that could only be brought up when she was sure they were alone. Couldn’t get more alone than a blanket fort sleepover at two in the morning. Hanae and Midori had been carried up to their rooms asleep hours ago.

“Yeah?” Takumi clicked on a flashlight. It was too bright, so he clicked it off immediately. In the split second of expression he’d seen on Shiemi’s face, she looked more nervous than Takumi had seen her be since that time she talked about who her dad was and why he wasn’t in her life. That was two years ago. He was twelve now and had no idea what she might bring up because they talked about pretty much everything. What could be so serious that she was nervous?

“I’ve been thinking a lot lately. Well. For a while now.”

“Yeah?” Takumi repeated when she paused. He reached out and took her hand. Shiemi squeezed back.

“You know how your dad likes both Ran-obasan and Shinichi-ojisan?”

Oh, now he could see where this was going. “He’s bi, yeah?”

“I think I like girls.” A deep breath. “I know I like girls. And not boys.”

“Okay.” It seemed like such a small thing, but clearly it wasn’t since Shiemi was so nervous. What, did she think he would be weirded out by it? “That’s cool. Anyone you like now?”

“That’s it?” Shiemi said, elbowing him.

“Ow. Why would it be a problem?”

“I don’t know. People at school are just... yeah, sometimes they say things...”

“And you listened to them? What happened to the girl who laughed in the face of the guy that tried to bully her?”

“I don’t care about them! They’re idiots! I just...”

Takumi turned so he could squirm closer, shoving pillows aside. “Shiemi, Tou-san has been with Shinichi-jisan how long now? It’s not a problem. I know boys can like boys and girls can like girls.”

“Ugh, I know it’s just different to say it out loud!” Shiemi huffed. She pulled him into a hug. “I never said it out loud to anyone before,” she mumbled into his shoulder. “I didn’t think it would be so scary to say it out loud.”

“To me?”

“No, just out loud really. Saying things out loud makes them more real. And you know what people are like about homosexuality.”

Takumi did know. It wasn’t broadcast that his dad was with the Kudos, but it wasn’t exactly a secret either and there had been times over the years... “Like you said, they’re idiots.”

“Idiots with power,” Shiemi said with a disgusted scoff. “I wish that would change.”

“You’re just going to have to do it yourself,” Takumi teased, thinking of how often she complained about something and did just that.

“Obviously.” Shiemi giggled. “Okay, can you picture me in politics?”

Takumi hummed. “Actually, yeah.”

“What really?”

“You’re bossy enough.”

“Takumi!” Shiemi shoved him away, laughing. He laughed with her. She was laughing a bit harder than the situation called for, but he figured it was relief. Silly, he wasn’t going to change how he was with her. When their giggled petered off, she sighed. “You know, maybe I should really go into politics. Maybe I could make a difference.”

“If you do, I’ll back you up.”

“As what, a fellow politician?”

“I dunno. I have no idea what I want to be when I grow up. Maybe I could join pro sports and be a spokesperson or something.” He’d started lacrosse this year and he was loving it. For a second he pictured standing in front of cameras after a win, telling some person about sexualities. It would probably be a scandal if he did, but it would be so worth it.

“You’re not that good at sports.”

“I dunno, I could be. I just have to try harder.”

Shiemi snorted. “You do that.” She caught Takumi’s hand again, lacing their fingers together like they did when they were younger. “I have a crush on Arisa in your class. She’s cute and she always says hi when I visit you at lunch and she can run really fast. She’s so cool.”

Takumi barely knew Arisa, but he could agree that she was pretty cool. “Are you going to tell her?”

“No. I’m not ready to tell the world yet. And if I asked her out there’d probably be rumors...” She looked at Takumi, dim light reflecting off her glasses. “You like anyone?”

“No,” Takumi said. “I keep thinking about it, but I don’t really get it. Maya-chan likes Jun, and everyone thinks Jun is attractive, but I just look at him and go, yeah, that’s a guy, and Kenta keeps being girl crazy but I can’t relate at all. They’re pretty I guess but...” Takumi shrugged. “It’s like everyone’s put on some pair of glasses that make you see people as attractive and I never got a pair. They’re people and they’re mostly nice people, but they’re just the same as they’ve always been, you know?”

“Kind of?” Shiemi said.

“I’ve looked into it some and maybe I just am one of those people who don’t like people that way. I don’t know. Maybe I never will or maybe I’ll wake up and find people pretty someday.”

“Does it bother you?”

“A little? But not much. I mean why get upset about who likes who, there’s so much to do, why waste time getting caught up in all of that.”

Shiemi snickered. “You would say that.” She nudged Takumi with her elbow and Takumi could see the hint of a smile in the dark. “Thanks. For listening and sharing.”

“Duh. You’re my best friend.”

“Don’t be a brat.”

Takumi stuck his tongue out at her. Shiemi shoved him. He tickled her, but that was always a battle he would lose. She had him wheezing laughter and crying in a matter of minutes, begging for mercy.

“I don’t know why you even start tickle fights when you know I’ll win,” Shiemi said.

“Worth it,” Takumi gasped. She was happy again and nothing had changed between them with sharing those secrets.

“So... If I ever do want to date someone, will you help be my wingman?”

“Pff, sure, Shiemi.”

**

Takumi was doing homework with Shiemi in the kitchen when the front door opened and shut. He didn’t think anything of it until there wasn’t his mother’s usual greeting. Instead, there was a patter of socked feet too small for an adult and Hanae rushing into the kitchen.

“Takumi-nii?” she said. She looked like she’d seen someone kick a puppy, torn between being upset and angry and it had Takumi wanting to track whatever caused it down because Hanae didn’t get upset easily.

She also wasn’t supposed to be here. “Hanae, what are you doing here?” Takumi asked, holding his arms out. Hanae rushed into the hug. “Are you by yourself?” he added, realizing that would mean she’d come all the way from Ekoda Elementary on her own and anything could have happened. And her parents might not even know. “How did you even get in?”

“You gave me a key remember?” she said into his shoulder.

“Yeah, but you gave it back.” She must have made a copy; she was all about spies and ciphers and sneaky tricks lately which Takumi’s father was gleefully ‘helping’. Hanae squirmed free of the hug. “Takumi-nii, I need help with something.”

Takumi shot Shiemi a look. Shiemi shrugged, setting her homework aside to watch this unfold. “What kind of help are we talking about?”

“So my friend Ryou-kun came into school with his nails painted today cuz his sister had a sleepover and he got to join in. And I told him they looked pretty, because they did. They were all dark sparkly blue—that’s really pretty and it looked good on him, but then one of the other boys in class noticed and started being mean and kept calling him pretty and girly and made him cry and he took the polish off even though he was so happy earlier.” Hanae scowled. She looked a lot like Ran-basan glaring at a criminal when she was angry. She could probably do a decent amount of damage too since Hanae had been doing karate since she was four. “I offered to hit them but he told me not to and said not to call him pretty anymore because boys couldn’t be pretty. Which is stupid.”

Takumi nodded, sharing another glance with Shiemi who was a lot more interested now. “It is stupid. Of course boys can be pretty. I can be pretty sometimes, right Shiemi?”

“Uh. Objectively speaking you’re not...not pretty?” Shiemi said, not expecting to be addressed.

Takumi rolled his eyes.

“Takumi, I told you like, two weeks ago! I am not the best person to ask about whether a man is pretty or not!”

“Anyway,” Takumi said, setting a hand on Hanae’s shoulder, “pretty or not, there’s nothing wrong with a guy liking pretty things. Or girly things. Girly isn’t bad.”

“I know!” Hanae said, standing straighter. “That’s what Kaa-san’s said, but the boys in class are stupid and mean.”

“Okay,” Takumi said slowly. “What did you need my help with anyway? Why didn’t you just tell a teacher they were being mean?”

Hanae huffed. “I can’t go to the teacher! They’ll just pretend to listen and be sneakier about being mean! I want you to talk to the boys because they won’t listen to me. You’re a middle schooler, so you’re almost cool now and they’re more likely to listen to another boy.”

Almost cool. Takumi struggled not to smile at that. “I kind of doubt they’ll listen to me.” But who the heck were these kids that just ruined a boy’s self-image just because he happened to wear sparkly nail polish? One, there were plenty of boys who wore nail polish—even some baseball catchers wore it for better signing. Two, like heck was being a pretty boy an insult! “...we’ll just have to prove them wrong,” Takumi said.

“Oh?” Shiemi said.

“Yes,” Takumi said, deciding he’d do this. Somehow. An idea sparked. He grinned slowly.

“Takumi, no, I’m the one with the crazy ideas, not you,” Shiemi said, seeing his expression.

“You don’t know the idea yet.”

“I know you.”

“Will it help Ryou feel better?” Hanae asked.

“Maybe,” Takumi said. “I can talk to him too if you want. In the meantime...” He dashed up to his room and back down in record time, a couple small, round objects in his hands. “Here.” He set them in Hanae’s hands.

“Are those...?” Shiemi started, craning her neck.

“Glitter bombs,” Takumi said, grin vicious. “Rainbow glitter bombs. Set them up in their shoe lockers or desk and it will cover them. And their clothes. And their things. And it will take weeks to get rid of and they’ll still be finding glitter in odd places for months.”

“I knew you were the right one to talk to,” Hanae said with satisfaction.

“Tou-san probably would have given you glitter bombs too,” Takumi said.

“Yeah, but he’d feel guilty and probably tell Kaa-san and Tou-san he gave me them or something.” Hanae clutched the glitter bombs close. “This way no one has to know it was me.”

“They’re going to know it was you,” Takumi said, “because who else would do it?”

“Yeah,” Hanae said, “but this way they don’t have proof it was me. I just gotta time it right.”

There was probably, Takumi reflected, some negative effects of growing up around a lot of crime scenes.

“So what else?” Hanae asked.

Takumi grinned, Shiemi shrugged and gave into the inevitable and joined in the planning, and Hanae wholeheartedly threw herself into getting revenge for her friend.

**

“So,” Shinichi said the second Kaito stepped into the kitchen after work, “there was a few phone calls for you today from the school.”

“Takumi’s school?”

“And Hanae’s.” Shinichi was reading the paper. He looked amused in a way that set off Kaito’s flight instincts. “You also had one from Aoko-san. She said that this is your problem and she’s not taking any part of it. By the way, you chose a bad day to forget your cell phone at home.” Shinichi held up Kaito’s missing phone.

“You don’t say?” Kaito took it. Two voicemails from the respective schools. One missed call from Aoko and a text. Six missed calls in total. “I’m assuming you listened to the voice mails.”

“Mm,” Shinichi hummed. “They also called me and Ran.”

“Give me a digest version?”

“Something about crossdressing in public, infiltrating an elementary school, skipping class, and terrifying several children during their lunch break?”

What did Takumi do? “And to think I thought my son didn’t inherit my streak of flaunting authority.”

Shinichi laughed at him.

“Shush, your children are going to be trouble magnets too.”

“Actually, considering how the boys who were involved with this incident are the same ones who were mysteriously pranked a few days ago with a glitter bomb, I think Hanae already is one, and we can deduce who prompted Takumi to act out.”

“...So you already have the whole thing figured out don’t you?”

“Pretty much. They’re a bunch of kids, there’s limits to their resources and planning.”

Shinichi wasn’t going to tell Kaito what he’d figured out either. Kaito huffed and sat at the table. “I hate you sometimes.”

“Love you too, Kaito.” Shinichi grinned and picked his paper back up. “Have fun being a parent with this one.”

Kaito gave him a middle finger which Shinichi conveniently didn’t see. He listened to the messages.

**

“Takumi, officially you’re grounded for the duration of your suspension,” Kaito said the moment Takumi stepped foot in the kitchen after school. He kept helping Ran with cooking, enjoying the panicked expression on his son’s face from the corner of his eye.

“Uh.” Takumi froze.

“Unofficially, how could you let yourself get caught?”

Ran whapped Kaito lightly on the head. “What he means is he’s disappointed. Don’t do that again.”

“Did you at least accomplish what you were trying to do?”

“Yes?” Takumi said, clearly expecting a lot worse after probably getting yelled at by the staff of two schools for hours and a talking to from Aoko on top of that. She was the one who had been called in to deal with it, being the primary contact.

“Well okay then. I hope someone got pictures to memorialize this though.”

“You’re not mad?”

Kaito smirked. “Not really. I mean I did worse things in school. Granted I was a bit older before I broke into places cross dressed but—”

“You what?!”

“Not important,” Kaito said waving that away. He didn’t know when a good time to explain Kid would come up and he and Aoko still went back and forth about if it was something that they’d ever tell Takumi about in the first place. “But Hanae already explained why you did it.”

Takumi looked at Hanae who was doing her homework at the kitchen table while Midori scribbled on scrap paper with crayons. “I wasn’t going to make you the fall guy,” she said.

“Oh. Okay.” Takumi sat down, a little dazed. “And Shiemi got photos. She says for blackmail but you can’t blackmail me if I’m not ashamed.”

“Always a good mindset,” Kaito agreed. Ran rolled her eyes at them.

Takumi shook his head. Hanae cleared her throat at Takumi and he blinked. “Oh yeah, so, Tou-san am I pretty?”

Kaito glanced at him with a grin from where he was chopping vegetables. “You’re gorgeous.”

“See?” Takumi said to Hanae.

Hanae scoffed. “Dads don’t count. They have to say you’re pretty.”

“Your classmates thought I was pretty.”

“Well yeah, but they’re stupid so...”

“I’ll find an unbiased opinion somewhere.”

“Eh, Ryou thinks you’re pretty, and his opinion is all that matter so.”

“...You just wanted me to ask Tou-san if I was pretty didn’t you?”

Hanae giggled.

“I got suspended for you!”

“Hanae is grounded for the weekend,” Ran said, “since she got you involved.”

“But we’re really glad you stuck up for your friend,” Kaito said.

“Stop undermining the effects of discipline, Kaito,” Ran said.

“But I thought that was my reason for existing?” Kaito said with a straight face.

“I hate you all,” Takumi said. “But I proved that boys can be pretty and that the elementary school need better security.”

“Someone’s taking care of that.”

“Good.”

Far off future:

“Kaa-san, Tou-san, Kai-Tou-san! We’re home! Takumi-nii is visiting!” Hanae’s voice echoed from the front door.

Kaito set down the onion he was cutting, counting the seconds before he’d end up tackled. A few steps away, Ran did the same, setting aside her stirring spoon. Sure enough, Midori barreled into the room two seconds later, hair a mess and her school bag flung around haphazardly as she ran. She tackled Kaito’s legs first before latching onto Ran.

“School was fun but I’m glad it’s done, where’s Tou-san?” she said all in one breath.

“He’s finishing up some paperwork in the study,” Ran said, and Midori was off again to go give Shinichi a hug. She had too much energy, even for Kaito some days. Ran quirked a smile at Kaito. Kaito gave an exaggerated shrug back. Yeah, it was probably his genetics at work there. Somehow they’d skipped Takumi despite all probability.

“We’re home,” Hanae said again, entering the kitchen with Takumi at a much calmer pace than her sister had. “Kaa-san, do I have to be in fourth grade or can I just skip? It’s only the first day and I’m bored out of my mind.”

“You can’t skip,” Ran said, with the same patient tone she’d used last year when Hanae had asked the same thing. Hanae was ahead in a few subjects, but not all of them. “Besides, you’d have to have a whole new group of classmates.”

“We get a new home room every year anyway,” Hanae sighed.

“You have to find ways to make it interesting,” Kaito said with a wink. “Make up a game to pass the boring classes.”

“Like how you used to prank your whole class?” Takumi asked. He stole a slice of carrot from Kaito’s cutting board.

“Hands off, this is for dinner,” Kaito said, batting Takumi’s grabby fingers away. “And sort of. I don’t think anything that showy is a good idea, but you’ve got a brain, there has to be something interesting to puzzle out in your classes.”

“Can you show me how to make glue bombs?” Hanae asked hopefully.

Ran cleared her throat pointedly.

“No, I don’t have a death wish.” Kaito skated close to the line already with teaching the kids simple sleight of hand. Ran had been pissed when she found out he taught Hanae and Midori lock picking—almost as angry as Aoko had been when he taught Takumi, but as Shinichi had pointed out, it was a useful skill to have considering how danger tended to crop up in their lives. That said, Kaito wasn’t going to push his luck. Providing ways to cause chaos at school would be a step or five over the line of what was and wasn’t acceptable.

“Stingy,” Hanae said. “Takumi-nii, teach me to make glue bombs?”

“What makes you think I know how to make glue bombs?” Takumi said. He took over setting the table as Ran and Kaito worked on finishing dinner.

Hanae, making more of a nuisance of herself than not as she was still slumped at the table, shrugged. “Because you know how to make smoke pellets. And you get a kick out of glitter bombs. Why not glue bombs?”

“I can’t say whether I can or can’t make one,” Takumi said.

“Good diplomatic answer,” Kaito said.

“That means yes, yes you can make one,” Hanae said. She had Shinichi’s deadpan sarcasm down pat.

“We can brainstorm ways to keep you entertained after dinner,” Takumi offered.

“Fi—ne,” Hanae groaned.

“How was your first day of high school, Takumi?” Ran asked as she took the cutting board full of vegetables from Kaito to start stir frying them.

“It was fine.” Takumi shrugged. “It was nice to be in the same building as Shiemi again, though she’s definitely going to try and booby-trap my shoe locker. I see a prank war coming. Turns out my homeroom teacher is new to the staff—Yumi-sensei, er Hatsumoto-sensei, left for maternity leave so they hired a foreigner to teach. Sort of foreigner?” Takumi tipped his head to the side. “He’s half-Japanese, no accent, and rumor has it he’s from Britain. Rumor also has it he’s an alumni from Ekoda High, but I don’t know if that’s true or not. He seems pretty uptight and serious though. Shiemi was sad because he’s probably going to be in charge of the Literature club with Hatsumoto-sensei gone.”

“A half-British alumni,” Kaito murmured. Could it be...? “What’s the teacher’s name?”

“Hakuba I think, spelled the same as Hakuba laboratories.” Takumi finished setting chopsticks around the table and turned to Kaito. “Why?”

“Huh.” Hakuba as a teacher. A high school teacher no less. What the hell had brought him back here so many years later? “I went to school with him.”

“Really?” Takumi asked, curious.

Kaito didn’t talk about his school days much, didn’t talk about anything before the divorce much, but he’d made enough comments when Ran and Shinichi talked about their own high school days over the years that Takumi had a picture of what it must have been like. Kaito scratched the back of his head sheepishly. “Yeah. We didn’t get on much. I pranked the hell out of him and he would get all uptight and smug at me whenever he could hold something over me.” Which admittedly didn’t happen too often. “By the time he moved back to London we tolerated each other, but I can’t say we were ever friends exactly. He was a detective back then though, and he wanted to catch Kid.”

“And you were Kid’s biggest fanboy,” Takumi filled in, like that was explanation enough for why they hadn’t gotten along. “It’s weird that my homeroom teacher is someone you knew though. Think that will make him biased against me?”

“Mm, probably not. Hakuba wasn’t the type to make assumptions about people without evidence. If he’s still like who he was back then, he’d be wary, but wouldn’t treat you differently unless you tried to prank him. Keep from doing anything I’d have done and I’m sure he’ll treat you like everyone else in class.”

Hakuba had always been reasonably fair. A bit prone to showing off, but Kaito had been the same way back then so he couldn’t really point fingers. Fifteen years was a long time, more than long enough for Hakuba to have grown up.

“So long as I’m not being singled out to do all the reading or always called to do work on the board, I think I’ll be happy,” Takumi said. “The world is a surprisingly small place sometimes though.”

“Yes. Yes it is...” Kaito supposed he’d have to look into whatever was going on with Hakuba. Just in case. As someone that once chased Kid, he was someone to keep an eye on.

“If this guy was a detective, why is he teaching high school?” Hanae asked.

“That’s a good question, kiddo.” One that he’d have to find out.

Ran shot him a resigned look, guessing that he would be joining them late in bed tonight if at all. Kaito put on his best apologetic face and got an eye roll in return. “Hanae,” she said, “can you go get Midori and your father?”

“Can’t Takumi-nii get them?” Hanae asked even as she pushed herself out of her chair.

“I’m setting the table,” Takumi said, setting down water glasses pointedly.

“You’re always conveniently busy whenever there’s an errand,” she said walking away.

“It’s called being helpful!” Takumi called after her. “She’s only ten, how is she like this already?”

“Says the teenager,” Kaito teased.

“Well I’m never that grumpy.”

“Of course not.” Takumi just spent a lot more time in his room and listening to edgy music Shiemi was into when he was a preteen.

“Dinner,” Ran said, setting food onto the table before they could devolve into verbally poking at each other.

Midori and Hanae returned, dragging Shinichi along with them, his reading glasses still perched on his head. Kaito rescued them before Shinichi lost another pair to enthusiastic children. All thoughts about Hakuba were lost in the familiar back and forth of a family meal. As always, Kaito felt extremely lucky that this was his daily life.

***

Because Kaito was Kaito, he couldn’t hear that Hakuba was back in Japan and not look into it. What sort of phantom thief would he be if he didn’t look into the return of a one-time rival? So after Takumi left for Aoko’s curfew and the girls were tucked into bed, Kaito grabbed his dark gray scouting gear and planned to have a sleepless night.

“Do you even know where you’re going?” Shinichi asked as Kaito fit a knit hat over his ears to hide his hair and keep off the March chill.

“Of course I do. I’m heading to the school first for employee records and finding Hakuba from there,” Kaito said.

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that,” Shinichi muttered, looking exasperated. Ran looked torn between disapproving and amused. The former was winning, mostly because she had the loudest conscience between them.

“You asked,” Kaito pointed out. “I’m not going to break into wherever it is he’s living.” Not tonight at least. “I just need to get an idea of what I might be dealing with. I don’t know if he’s going to be chasing Kid again.”

“He might not be if he’s a teacher,” Ran said.

“Jodie-sensei turned out to be with the FBI, Ran. Being a teacher doesn’t guarantee anything.” Shinichi rubbed his arms, a thoughtful frown on his face. “That doesn’t mean he isn’t a teacher either, but we don’t have all the facts.”

That was something Kaito was going to remedy. While he really didn’t think Hakuba would cause any problems with Takumi’s school life, it was always better to check. Hakuba was someone that knew Kid’s identity even if he’d never been able to prove it, and that could complicate a lot of things if he chose to use that knowledge.

“Don’t wait up,” Kaito said, kissing Ran and Shinichi goodbye. “I might not be back until morning.”

“You’re going to hate yourself tomorrow,” Shinichi said.

“That’s what coffee is for,” Kaito said.

“Take a nap on your lunch break tomorrow,” Ran said. Of the two of them, she tended to prod Kaito about his poor sleep habits most. She did the same to Shinichi though so it was just one of the ways she showed she cared. Kaito could appreciate that.

“I promise to take at least one power nap in the next twenty-four hours,” Kaito said. Then he climbed out the window. He enjoyed Ran’s overwrought sigh when she had to cross the room to close it. Coming and going through the window was still his favorite way to get in their bedroom.

It took maybe fifteen minutes at Ekoda High to find Hakuba’s file in the administrative office. The school hadn’t changed that much since Kaito went to school there, though there was more left to digital files than in the past. Thankfully that had never been much of a wall for him.

Twenty minutes after that found Kaito standing in the shadows of a very familiar apartment building. The same apartment building he’d lived in after he moved out of his mother’s house before Shinichi and Ran convinced him to move in with them. The building didn’t look any nicer than Kaito remembered it being, still needing a fresh coat of paint and new roofing in spots with cracked concrete steps up to the second floor apartments. Hakuba’s was on the second floor, right next to the one Kaito used to rent; the same apartment the little old half-deaf lady, Hinako, had lived. Either she’d moved or died, but that was a sad thought for another time.

It was as easy as he remembered to climb to the second floor windows. His old apartment had a light on, clearly having a new occupant. Occupants plural from the look of it; a young couple with a very young child. He could see them back-lit in the window as they tried to settle their baby for the night. Hakuba’s window was right next to that, the room inside dark except for a light on in the entryway.

Hakuba didn’t look much like the Hakuba Kaito remembered. Oh, he had the same tea-colored hair and solid, tall build, but he didn’t stand with his shoulders squared and his back straight. He leaned against his tiny kitchen countertop, back to the window, looking exhausted and defeated. There was a cane leaning against a desk and chair, the only pieces of furniture in the room other than the futon made up on the floor. It was a one room apartment, tiny and completely bare except for a calendar tacked to the wall. The water in the sink was running, but Hakuba wasn’t interacting with it, just standing frozen in a hunched position. Kaito thought Hakuba was going to stand there all night but after almost a minute, his hand shot out and turned the faucet off.

Kaito stayed perched outside the window, listening to the baby whimper next door and Hakuba’s other neighbor’s J-pop playlist filter through the shitty apartment walls. From Hakuba’s apartment, there wasn’t any sound, any movement at all until Hakuba finally straightened and checked a cell phone that had been by him the whole time. Its glow sent unflattering shadows across his profile that made him look twice as old and exhausted. Hakuba made a frustrated face at his phone and locked it again. He looked around his apartment like he was trying to decide if there was anything there worth doing, or maybe just taking in how shabby it was—there were badly covered scorch marks on the wall for goodness sake. Whatever he was looking for, apparently he didn’t find it. Kaito had to duck as Hakuba flicked off the entryway light and moved for the futon under the window.

Straining his ears, Kaito could hear Hakuba settle on the futon, then nothing. A quick glance confirmed that he was in bed and staring blankly at the ceiling.

Kaito wasn’t sure what to make of this. Any of this. Something had happened to Hakuba, and it had left him broken in some way. In fact it was unsettlingly similar to Kaito’s own memories of his early days in the shitty apartment next door. Kaito’d ended up there trying to get away from the weight of home and all the little things that reminded him of Jii, of his father who died too young and his mother who was never there.

Just what was Hakuba running from?

Kaito climbed back to solid ground, leaving Hakuba to his privacy. There was more research to do. It seemed important to know just how Hakuba had spent the last fifteen years of his life that could possibly lead him to where he was now.

***

It was almost Golden Week and Kaito had two things on his mind: Shinichi’s birthday and the parent-teacher meeting with Hakuba. Shinichi’s birthday was simple enough; Shinichi never remembered his own birthday so it was always pretty easy to surprise him. Kaito, Ran, and the kids had a party planned with some of Shinichi’s close friends invited and a gift of tickets to a mystery convention next month. Hakuba... Well, Kaito wasn’t sure what to do about Hakuba.

He’d done some digging after seeing Hakuba in that apartment and nothing he’d pulled up showed anything good in Hakuba’s life in the last year. Shot right out of high school in the leg, ended up a teacher instead of on the force, and then last year he’d lost a husband of twelve years. Violently. It was no wonder he had looked depressed alone in that apartment.

According to Takumi, Hakuba was a good teacher but kind of intimidating in the classroom. No one acted out much after someone ended up getting slammed with extra homework and the threat of detention after disrupting one too many times. Apparently getting on the wrong side of Hakuba’s glare froze up students the same way it used to terrify criminals. According to Shiemi, Hakuba was pretty calm and hadn’t been thrown by her testing him when he was assigned to be the literature club supervisor. He hadn’t bothered Takumi at all, other than a light reprimand the only time Takumi pulled a prank on a classmate. Hakuba had to know who Takumi was. Takumi looked just like Kaito so he had to know that he was going to talk to Kaito at some point and Kaito honestly had no idea how this was going to go. Life had taken them in very very different directions than they’d been heading toward back in high school. They weren’t the same people anymore so Hakuba could react in any number of ways at seeing Kaito again.

“You’re overthinking,” Ran said as she found Kaito in the kitchen, scowling at a cup of tea. Cold tea. He’d gotten caught up in his thoughts.

“Hakuba’s coming within the hour,” Kaito said.

“Did you want Shinichi or me to be there?” Ran knew a bit about Kaito’s high school days, and enough about Kid to recognize Hakuba beyond the brief meetings she had through her father’s connections in the past. She didn’t have an opinion toward Hakuba one way or another so far as Kaito could tell.

Kaito shrugged. “I think I’ll be fine. Technically you could be there since you help parent Takumi too but...” But people reacted badly when they realized Kaito was a seemingly unnecessary addition to Ran and Shinichi’s marriage; a parasite was the least of what he’d been called over the years. They kept it private when they could and Kaito wasn’t about to shove it in Hakuba’s face if he could help it. Hakuba would draw enough conclusions from the address and Kudo’s name on the gate.

“I’ll be in the library with the girls,” Ran said gathering up a tray of senbei and juice boxes.

“Thanks, Ran.”

“Shinichi should be home soon. I’ll send him a text to leave you to your meeting, ok? But if you need us...”

“I’ll ask.” He smiled at her and she squeezed his shoulder in support on her way past. The smile slid off Kaito’s face once she was gone. Honestly, how was he supposed to approach this? He drummed his fingers over the side of his teacup. He could, Kaito supposed, approach this like he would approach any teacher; with hospitality and neutral charm. Let Hakuba direct how personal it got and go from there.

He refilled the kettle and searched for a good tea blend while it heated. No black teas this late, not everyone could sleep immediately after drinking caffeine like Shinichi. A light green or herbal tea... perhaps the ginger, mint and chamomile blend that Kaito brewed when the girls couldn’t sleep or he needed something relaxing. Caffeine probably wouldn’t be doing Hakuba any favors if the tired look of him in the moment Kaito glimpsed was anything to go by.

A doorbell interrupted his thought process. Kaito shoved the green blend back in the cupboard and half-teleported toward the front door. This was earlier than he’d expected Hakuba, but Hakuba was the only visitor they were expecting. Kaito schooled his expression into something polite and blandly welcoming.

“Hakuba,” Kaito said as he opened the door, catching a glimpse of Hakuba’s hair through the door window before he even started to open it. “You’re earlier than I thought you’d...be...” His neutral mask slipped. “You look like hell,” he said, mouth firing off before his brain finished thinking like he was back in high school again.

“How kind of you to point it out,” Hakuba said with all the prickly sarcasm Kaito remembered him having. Hell was kind of an understatement though. There were dark smudges under Hakuba’s eyes and a pinched look to his face that Kaito’d seen from Shinichi on the occasional times he got migraines. He had a white knuckled grip on his cane too, so his leg must be giving him hell. “Are we going to do this in the doorway or will you invite me in?”

Kaito recovered, masks in place again. Hakuba looked like he expected an attack. If anyone should expect one, it should be Kaito. Kaito stepped aside. “Please, come in.” He shut the door behind Hakuba, glad that he’d thought to set out guest slippers earlier. “I wasn’t expecting you so soon.”

“Yes, well, the meeting with Aoko-san went faster than anticipated,” Hakuba said, taking his shoes off with the reluctance of someone who had taken their shoes on and off too often in one day. “You live here?” Hakuba said.

“I’ve lived here about...mm...going on six years now.” Kaito waited for a comment about Ran or Shinichi, or Kaito himself, but Hakuba hummed acknowledgement and didn’t say anything else. Huh. Well, Hakuba had married a man, so maybe he was more open to non-normative relationships than Kaito would have guessed. Kaito led them to the kitchen, acutely aware of how Hakuba looked at everything they passed with the focus of examining a crime scene.

The kettle was whistling when they reached the kitchen and Kaito flicked off the heat. “Sit wherever,” he said. “Tea? Or should I offer something stronger?” he half-joked.

“I don’t drink,” Hakuba said, with a hollowness that made the joke fall flat and get buried six feet under. He didn’t offer anything more than that.

Kaito glanced at the herbal tea he’d left on the counter. Soothing was probably the best way to go. He prepared tea with the absent-minded flare he always used, letting the familiar motions of juggling a teapot and cups soothe his nerves. “Never?” he said, showily setting down Hakuba’s cup. “Must be pretty hard to unwind.” Kaito was going to want a drink by the end of the night.

“There are healthier ways of doing that.”

Kaito, pouring them tea, tilted his head in consideration. Just about every adult he knew got horrendously drunk at some point or another either via social pressures or escapism, and he could hardly say he was innocent of escaping into drink a time or two. It could be a slippery slope, but it was a socially accepted one. Self-medicating in a way that didn’t hold a stigma the way actual medicine did. But Kaito could say that having been down that path, he’d prefer now where he only drank in moderation and socially to when he’d tried to escape his problems. “Fair enough.” It figured Hakuba would avoid the temptation altogether.

Hakuba cupped the teacup in his hands and there was a long, heavy silence.

Clearly Hakuba wasn’t going to take the lead. Kaito breathed in mint-scented steam. “So. It’s been a while.”

Hakuba snorted. “That’s an understatement. A lot has changed since high school, hasn’t it?” The heavy emphasis on ‘lot’ and the way his eyes flicked around the room made it come out a bit like a backhanded accusation, but Kaito wasn’t ruffled by it. Compared to teenage Hakuba, it was downright subtle.

“Eh, just a bit. Unplanned babies, rush weddings, messy divorces... All part of life.” Kaito gave Hakuba a bright and very fake smile. “You’re hardly an exception.”

Hakuba gave him an unimpressed frown back. “True enough. Things have changed. And yet it seems not everything has.”

And there, a reference to Kid. Took him long enough. “All part of life,” Kaito repeated. “Some things change and others stay the same because they can’t.”

Their eyes met and it was Hakuba who looked away first, bringing his tea to his face to breathe in its scent. “I was surprised to see Takumi-kun in my class,” Hakuba said. “I wasn’t expecting...”

“Me to have a son?”

“That you’d have a child his age,” Hakuba said. “That he’d look so much like you.”

Takumi was almost identical to how Kaito looked at that age. Kaito was willing to bet he’d have more of Aoko’s soft features into adulthood though. “You’re not going to see me when you look at him, are you?” He didn’t want the...animosity wasn’t quite the correct word...the tension between him and Hakuba to spread to his son.

“Of course not,” Hakuba said, looking offended. “He’s his own person and I’ll form opinions from my own observations, not any lingering memories of you. He’s nothing like you or Aoko were in class anyway. He actually takes notes and pays attention for one.”

“Aoko took notes.”

“She also chased you with a mop in the middle of class on the regular.” Hakuba’s tone was dry as a desert. He pinched the bridge of his nose, another sign of a headache, a tiny frustrated sound escaping his lips. “Look. Kuroba...san.” The honorific felt wrong coming from Hakuba’s lips and Kaito couldn’t help staring. “I’m here as Takumi-kun’s teacher, not your old classmate. Anything from our past isn’t going to make me treat Takumi-kun different from my other students. In fact, so far he’s been a pleasure to have in class. He knows the answers when called upon and has passable English pronunciation...even if it is with an American accent.”

“Shinichi’s parents live in America,” Kaito said. “He’s picked up English during visits.”

Hakuba’s face twitched, probably at the mention of Shinichi. “Right, well he’s doing well in my class and so far he’s doing well in his other classes too. He’ll need to start thinking about what he want to study past high school or if he wants to try getting into the more accelerated learning courses for a better chance of getting into a good university, but there is time for figuring that out. Socially, he seems well respected among his peers and gets along with most people. He’s remarkably well adjusted.”

“And what is that supposed to mean,” Kaito said, narrowing his eyes.

Hakuba frowned back. “It’s not an attack, merely an observation. Balancing a split household effects children differently; he must have a good support network because he comes across as confident and comfortable. It’s a good thing.”

“Well,” Kaito said after a moment of them both bristling defensively, “he has four parents to talk to so I guess it helps.” There, the tension around Hakuba’s eyes again. “That bothers you.”

“Not,” Hakuba snapped, “for the reason you likely assume.”

“Oh, there’s always some reason people are uncomfortable.” Kaito gave Hakuba another empty smile. “Is it because of Ran or Shinichi? Because I am with both of them, thank you very much and it’s all very mutual—”

“They know, correct?” Hakuba cut in. “About you?”

Kaito hissed breath between his teeth. He’d really forgotten how Hakuba could rub him the wrong way so easily, and here he was bringing up Kid again, and probably meant to hold it against him or something. Maybe Hakuba hadn’t changed that much. Maybe he was still prodding for Kaito’s weak points and waiting to air his secrets to the world. “No, of course not, because that wouldn’t lead to problems now would it?” Kaito said sharply, the sarcasm lashing out instinctively. “I’m with Kudo Shinichi, of course they know. I wouldn’t have lasted a week if he wanted to know who I was. I live here, Hakuba. And, still not admitting to anything so you can put any daydreams of a confession out of your damn head, but has it occurred to you that some people are capable of looking past first impressions and gray morality and caring regardless?”

“I’m not—” Hakuba stopped, face scrunched. “I’m not trying to accuse you. And I am in no place to judge you on your life choices, in terms of partners or otherwise. I’m not a detective anymore, Kuroba-san. And I have no intention of picking up where I left off in Japan in regards to chasing thieves.”

“Then what is the problem?” Kaito shot back, not quite believing that Hakuba just said he wasn’t interested in chasing Kid. Kaito would believe that when he got proof.

“Just. Kudo? Really?” The twist to Hakuba’s face was identifiable as distaste.

“He’s brilliant and attractive and good.”

“He shot a gun at Kid the first heist he attended.”

“Oh, he’s shot a lot of things at Kid over the years,” Kaito agreed. “Kid got over the gun. Shinichi got over an incident with a Taser. Among plenty of other things.” As Hakuba kept staring, Kaito took a pointed sip of tea and Hakuba reluctantly mirrored him. “If Kid can get over it, you can. And, to be blunt, I don’t need life advice from someone who looks like his life is falling apart.”

“I’m fine!” Hakuba said, instantly defensive. Kaito just took another sip of tea and let silence speak for him. Hakuba’s shoulders hunched toward his ears. “Why does everyone have to keep commenting on my health? You, Mum, my coworkers, Aoko—just back off. I’m doing as well as I can manage! I’m not going to fall apart so just stop looking at me like that!”

“I didn’t say anything about any of that.”

“You’re thinking it!” Hakuba looked like high school Hakuba now, only high school Hakuba after a forty-eight hour work bender.

He looked like he was going to start in on a rant if Kaito said the wrong thing. Kaito didn’t think his professionalism would have been so easily cracked, but Hakuba was clearly not in a good place at the moment. Kaito set down his tea. “Wait here a moment and drink some tea.”

Hakuba scowled but Kaito was out of the room before he could say anything biting. Kaito had some experience with insomniacs and stress, his own and otherwise. He made a trip to the back yard and came back to find Hakuba sipping at his tea like it went against his pride to drink it. He looked even more tired than when he walked in the door. Kaito snorted as Hakuba’s scowl came back the second he stepped into the room.

“Here,” Kaito said, setting a dove on Hakuba’s free hand. In his experience it was a hell of a lot harder to be upset with a soft, cooing animal in your hands.

Hakuba blinked and shifted his hand for it to better sit on with the experience of someone used to birds. “What?”

“His name is Yukito.” The dove wasn’t one of Kaito’s white ones, a pretty bluish-gray instead. “And this,” another dove appeared in Kaito’s hands and got set on Hakuba’s shoulder, “is Kero.” He was a warm brownish gold. “And Sakura.” A pinkish-gray dove appeared in his hands and he set her on his own shoulder. The soft burble of doves filled the air as they made themselves comfortable on their new perches.

Hakuba blinked again and pet Yukito reflexively. “...Cardcaptor Sakura?”

“The kids are fans. I let Hanae name Yukito and Midori and Takumi continued the theme.” Kaito gently scratched Sakura’s neck and she bundled herself up against his neck. “They’re pets, not performers. Don’t tell Ran I brought them in the kitchen.”

Hakuba stared at Kaito, thrown by the change in topic and the birds and maybe confused by Kaito in general. Younger Kaito would have just kept snipping back instead of choosing a peaceful alternative. “Why?”

“Ran doesn’t like having pets around food for sanitary reasons.” But that wasn’t what Saguru was really asking about. “I spend time with the doves when I have a bad day. You look like you’ve had a bad day. No more, no less. Just pet the bird and drink your tea, Hakuba.”

“They’re very calm.”

“I raised them by hand so I’d hope they were calm. I might not have them perform, but they’re still trained.”

Hakuba probably didn’t even realize how much he’d relaxed in the minute of just petting Yukito. Half the tension in him just bled away. Yukito was one of the more cuddly doves Kaito had. He’d just sit in your hand and get petted for hours in you let him.

“So. Takumi’s doing well in class.”

“Yes...” Hakuba pulled back a semblance of his earlier professionalism, still a bit dazed from being blindsided by birds.

“Has he talked about his goals for the future any or...?”

“Students haven’t gotten their career goal sheets yet.” Hakuba’s hand kept stroking Yukito. On his shoulder, Kero settled down against his neck, making himself comfortable like Sakura had on Kaito. “He’s average or above in all subjects though so he should be able to pursue any career he sets his eyes on... He seems to enjoy lacrosse a lot. And also genuinely enjoys the literature club? I initially thought he joined it because he was friends with Momoi-san, but he reads the books and has insightful comments to make on them.”

“I don’t think you can spend time under this roof and not like books,” Kaito said. Between a sort of adopted grandfather who was a novelist and Shinichi being a bookworm whenever he got the chance, Takumi had been exposed to a lot of book-positivity over the years.

“Next semester I intend to have career discussions with all the students in my homeroom, but I honestly haven’t had a chance to do more than glance over what their stated goals were on their high school applications, and a lot can change in a few months when they’re at this age.”

“A lot can change even in senior year,” Kaito said, thinking of his own rushed university entrance exams and the frantic reconfiguring of his goals when he tried to settle on a career that would let him support himself, Aoko, an incoming child, and his night life as Kid. Aoko had ended up the more practical of the two of them in the end.

“And after,” Hakuba agreed, clearly thinking of his own change in life goals that led to him here today as a teacher.

“Well, we figured it out eventually. They will too. It’s not a rush. I was just curious. I can still remember when he wanted to study whales. And then it was working with the space program. And then it was being a chef for a few months before he lost interest in that and somewhere along the way he stopped telling any of us what he wanted to be. Or maybe he just doesn’t know what it is anymore either.” That was fine too. Takumi was young and didn’t have a family he’d have to support happening practically overnight and would hopefully have his whole life to figure out something he enjoyed doing. “I never thought I’d be a museum conservator, but here we are.”

“You work at a museum?” Hakuba asked, blindsided again. His hands stilled on Yukito. “What happened to being a magician?”

“Life happened,” Kaito said. There was a tiny kernel of regret and there always would be. But he’d made the right choice. Kuroba Kaito had a low profile job and a normal family life—well, mostly normal. He was far from what people thought of when they thought of Kaitou Kid. “Being a magician wasn’t practical and I’m not too fond of actual stage-and-spotlight scenarios anymore.”

“But...” Hakuba frowned, confusion clear on his face. “With your role as Ki—”

“Don’t say it out loud,” Kaito said in a cheerful voice, “the walls can have ears.” And if one of the girls had managed to get away to eavesdrop it was better not to have anything stated outright.  

As if in response, there was the sound of creaky floor boards as someone walked down the hallway, and Shinichi poked his head around the corner, his nose buried in case notes, only to freeze when he saw Kaito and Hakuba. “Oh. Hello, I thought you’d be...somewhere else.” He took in the doves and then Hakuba, picking out details even Kaito had probably missed. The tension was probably as clear as if it was lit up with neon. “I can leave or...?”

“Actually, Kudo-san,” Hakuba said, reaching for his cane, “I believe we are more or less done here.”

Kaito indulged in a tiny, almost silent, sigh of frustration. He’d almost calmed Hakuba down and managed to just wind him up again and now Shinichi was enough to run him off entirely. “Not interested in talking more?”

“We were done talking about Takumi-kun,” Hakuba said. “I didn’t come to socialize anyway.” He seemed at a loss for what to do with the doves.

Kaito whistled softly and Yukito and Kero flew to him.

“Ran is going to make you clean the whole kitchen for bringing them in here,” Shinichi commented.

“Ran can have my promise that I’ll disinfect everything later.” Hakuba hadn’t even finished off a full cup of tea... “I can see you out,” Kaito said, rising to his feet.

“There’s no need,” Hakuba said, but it was the sort of polite refusal Kaito could choose to ignore, not an actual desire to be left alone. Kaito could tell the difference.

“Humor me,” Kaito said.

“It’s good to see you again, Hakuba-san,” Shinichi said as they passed. “Are you planning to come to any Kid heists in the future?”

Hakuba shot him a humorless smile. “Not at all. I’m retired. Besides, I’m net exactly up for chasing anyone these days.” He tapped the cane pointedly on the floor. “Have a good evening, Kudo-san. Kuroba-san.”

He was all manners and control again as he left like the outburst in the kitchen never happened. Maybe it was because Shinichi reminded him to be professional, Kaito thought, or maybe Hakuba had gone around the full circle of emotions and come out the other end in his exhausted state. Either way, they parted with cookie-cutter polite words that left Kaito feeling off-balance.

Shinichi was still in the kitchen after Kaito locked the front door, pouring himself a cup of tea. “Hakuba-san really is your son’s homeroom teacher.”

“Yup,” Kaito said. He flopped into his chair. Sakura fluttered and landed on his head.

“He knows about Kid.”

“Yup.”

“He looks like hell.”

“Yu~up,” Kaito drawled, leaning heavily on the table. “I’m pretty sure he’s in the middle of an emotional breakdown. In general, or maybe tonight especially. He’s usually so put together in my memories.”

“That was the exact opposite of put together tonight. Why was he holding the birds?”

“Birds are calming? Anyway, I figured he had to like them or he wouldn’t have had a hawk at one point.”

Shinichi looked at Kaito over the rim of his mug. Kaito looked back, pouting as one of Shinichi’s eyebrows rose slowly.

“I don’t care that much. It’s just. Weird. Hakuba shouldn’t look like that. Also... I maybe invaded some of his privacy and know why he’s having a mental breakdown and I would feel like a jerk if I actively baited him like I used to. ...Okay, maybe I care a little but I’d feel bad even if it wasn’t Hakuba, so.”

“I didn’t say a word.”

“You did the eyebrow thing,” Kaito said, waving a hand. “You’re judging.”

“You knew him back in school, right?”

“We were classmates for a while, yeah. And he figured out I was Kid. We weren’t friends or anything.”

“Uh huh.”

“We weren’t.” Kaito sighed. “You remember what it was like in high school. Friends... They weren’t something people like us had a lot of. Everyone was an acquaintance, everyone knew who you were, but actual friends?” He ran a finger down Kero’s soft feathers. “Besides, we were constantly trying to catch each other off guard and drag each other down. That’s closer to a rival or enemy than a friendship.”

“Is it going to be a problem?”

“With Kid or Takumi?” Kaito asked rhetorically. “No. Probably not provided he doesn’t go off the deep end or anything...”

Shinichi sipped at tea, watching Kaito’s expression shift through emotions with narrowed eyes. “You’re planning something.”

“Nothing bad.”

“Kaito.”

“Shinichi.” Kaito stuck his tongue out at his all-but-husband. “Look, Hakuba could use a friend to carefully nudge him away from the edge. Conveniently, he’s back and near several old classmates he can connect to.”

“Yourself included,” Shinichi said, unimpressed.

“Obviously. Now I have the excuse in keeping track of Takumi to reach out. And it lets me keep an eye on if Hakuba’s planning to change his mind on Kid or go off the deep end and, I don’t know, take it out on his students or something.”

“You have to have your nose in everything,” Shinichi said with a sigh. He crossed the room to give Kaito a one-armed hug. “Please don’t do anything too illegal.”

“Who, me?” Kaito said, fluttering his eyelashes. “Never.”

“Right.”

“He already knows about Kid, it’s not a big deal.” Kaito grinned. Actually that left a lot of opportunities. He wasn’t going to prank Hakuba. But blindsiding him with random acts of kindness would be fun and entirely explainable because Hakuba was in the know. “Bagels or that cheesy toast from the bakery in Edoka we like?”

“At least give him a few days to recover before ambushing him with breakfast.”

“After Golden Week, then.”

Shinichi shook his head, but he looked amused, so Kaito considered it a win. “Let’s go join Ran and the girls.” He smiled wider. “And you might want to put the birds away before Ran notices you have them out in rooms she doesn’t approve of.”

“Birds away, then family game night.” Kaito gave Shinichi a peck on the cheek before hurrying away. Hakuba, while an issue to be addressed in the future, was secondary to family time. Family always came first.

***

The apartment was just as sparse as the first time Kaito saw it, though over the last few weeks Hakuba had added a plant to his desk. It was a small plant, and looked like it was recently transplanted, but it added a little color and life to an otherwise bleak space. Barely. The sun was starting to rise, backlighting Kaito as he crouched awkwardly in Hakuba’s window frame. Caught in his teeth was a paper bag full of savory cheese pesto rolls fresh from the bakery down the street.

Naturally, Kaito let himself in and made himself at home.

Hakuba woke abruptly as Kaito was going through the motions of making tea. “Good morning,” Kaito said, adding quality loose-leaf tea to Hakuba’s teapot.

Hakuba stared at him like he was a hallucination. Then he looked at the clock. “It’s not even six in the morning yet.” Then, “I should be calling the police.”

“You’re free to do that, but if you do, I’m taking breakfast with me.” Kaito shook the paper bag. The bread was still a little warm and wonderful smelling and Kaito was kind of hungry even though he’d eaten a raisin Danish before coming here on the off chance that Hakuba took the offered meal and kicked him out immediately.

“How did you get in?”

“Window.”

“Of course.” Hakuba blinked at him, clearly not awake enough to function. His hair stuck up at an odd angle from his pillow and it was kind of hilarious considering how he was someone who always tried to appear put together. Or used to be anyway, but Kaito doubted that would have changed too much over the years. “Why are you here?” Hakuba finally said as Kaito set out two of Hakuba’s teacups and a couple of plates for food.

“For breakfast of course,” Kaito said, sitting on the floor next to Hakuba. Hakuba didn’t even have a table to eat at.

“Kuroba,” Hakuba said in a warning rumble.

“I can’t want to have a friendly breakfast with an old acquaintance?” Kaito said.

“If you wanted that, you could have called. And made plans.”

“Do I have your number?” Kaito mused. He did—snooping provided so much—but he wasn’t going to admit to it.

“I’m too old for this,” Hakuba announced. “And too tired.”

“You’re never too old to have breakfast in bed,” Kaito said. “And you’re not even forty yet, Hakuba. Tea? Cheese bun?” He held out a cup and a plate. The cheese had melted out of the bun a bit, all gooey and mixed with pesto.

Hakuba scowled, but he took it. “Really, Kuroba, why are you here?”

“Really, Hakuba,” Kaito parroted back, “I just wanted to have breakfast with you.” He helped himself to tea and cheesy-bread goodness. Mm.

Hakuba drank down half his tea in two long gulps like he was trying to absorb as much caffeine as possible in the shortest amount of time. “I already told you I’m not attending heists,” he muttered into his drink. “And I’m not going to target your son because of our past.”

“Bit of a changeup from your place in high school,” Kaito said, ignoring Hakuba’s attempts to get him to confess his intentions. “Kind of small. And empty. You might want to get a table. Or maybe a chair or two. Your guests have nowhere to sit.”

“I don’t have guests.”

“Maybe next time I could help you shop for something. And maybe something for the walls?”

“Next time?”

“That’s a nice plant though. And a good choice on calendar. Floral. Splash of color in this sea of beige and white. Doesn’t really make up for the fact that this apartment complex is pretty crappy, but hey, you get what you pay for, right?” Kaito smiled.

Hakuba glowered. “Kuroba.”

“Hakuba.” Kaito sipped at his tea and took a pointed bite of his roll. Hakuba, after an uncomfortably long stare down, also took a bite. Kaito caught the split second of pleasant surprise on Hakuba’s face before the glare was back and felt a sliver of smugness for choosing to his tastes. “It’s funny, five or so years earlier and we would have been neighbors.”

Hakuba choked on his tea. “What?”

“I used to live next door. The apartment the couple with the baby live in. Not much nicer than this one, but almost twice as big.”

“Why on earth would you have lived here?”

“It was cheap, not the house I grew up in, and close to both my work and Takumi’s school,” Kaito said with a shrug. “Why are you living here?”

“...It’s cheap, it’s close to work, and it’s not living with my parents,” Hakuba said slowly.

He was waiting for the other shoe to drop. For Kaito to prank him, or threaten, or do something else antagonistic that would reassert the old order of things. It wasn’t going to happen though. “Moving back in with your parents after living apart is the weirdest feeling,” Kaito said. “I don’t blame you for wanting your own space. Kaa-san was never home but it still was weird as hell living there again after being on my own for four years.”

“In between living with Aoko and the Kudos?” Hakuba clarified. He finished the cheese bun and actually took another when Kaito held out the bag.

“Yup. Life takes you strange places.”

“Like back to Japan,” Hakuba muttered. “I don’t understand what you want from me,” he said bluntly.

“This isn’t enough?” Kaito waved a hand around, just them and tea and food in the early morning light.

“But why?”

“We’re not sixteen anymore,” Kaito said. “And you can never have too many friends.”

“Friends,” Hakuba repeated like it was an alien concept.

“Yup.”

“You and me?”

“It’s worth a shot.”

“I say I’m retired and you offer friendship. What the hell, Kuroba?”

“Call it a peace gesture. Starting from scratch. Well,” he corrected, “mostly from scratch.”

“I’m still the person who tried to arrest you multiple times.”

“And I’m in a long term relationship with a man who tried to shoot me at least once and a woman who almost took my head off with a karate kick; clearly dodgy past doesn’t erase the possibility of getting along.” Kaito licked pesto grease from his fingers.

Hakuba stared and then stared some more. “You’re impossible as ever,” he said finally. He ran a hand through his hair, making it even more of a mess. “Do what you want I guess. I can’t stop you.”

“Wonderful. I’ll take that as an open invitation.”

“Please don’t,” Hakuba said with a grimace.

“Too late.”

Kaito left after they finished breakfast and tea. He wasn’t going to push yet, just get Hakuba used to the idea. And maybe, just maybe, if Kaito kept showing up with peace offerings of food, the reserved detective would open up a little and stop looking like a step away from dire need for an intervention. (Technically Kaito could say this was an intervention, but he wasn’t going to call it that, not even in his mind. This was putting aside their pasts and trying to make friends with an old acquaintance down on his luck.) He didn’t get a smile from Hakuba this time. Next time Kaito would do better.

***

Kaito stood outside Ekoda High texting Takumi to meet him at the front gate when Hakuba rounded the corner almost walking right into Kaito in the process. He tripped and Kaito had to catch him. There was an awkward moment when Hakuba stiffened in Kaito’s hold and then he stepped away, cane in hand and a disturbed expression on his face.

“Are you actually stalking me?” he asked. “Because letting yourself in my window is bad enough, Kuroba, but—”

“I’m here for Takumi,” Kaito said, raising a hand to cut Hakuba off before he could get started. “Shouldn’t you be home already?”

“I had club activities.”

“Oh.” Actually, Kaito should have realized that. “You’re advisor to the Literature club right?”

“Yes,” Hakuba said, eying him suspiciously.

“Shiemi and Takumi mentioned it,” Kaito said casually.

“You’re close to Momoi-san?”

“She’s like another daughter; she’s been Takumi’s best friend since before they could talk.”

“Ah.” Hakuba floundered for a moment, clearly not sure what to make of this. “She’s... an interesting person.”

“She’s a force of nature,” Kaito said grinning. “She’s great.”

“She seems to be head of the literature club. Takumi was there as well and they seemed familiar with each other, but I hadn’t realized how close.”

“Yep.” Kaito glanced at his phone. He’d sent the message a bit incomplete, but Takumi had sent back that he was on his way. “So you’re done for the day?”

“Yes. And back again in the morning to do it all over again,” Hakuba said with a wry twist of his lips.

It wasn’t quite a smile, but it was close. Kaito opened his mouth to joke about how adulthood was a string of life repeating itself when Takumi ran over.

“Tou-san! I thought I was going to meet you at the Kudos?” Takumi nodded to Hakuba, glancing between the two of them.

Hakuba closed off immediately behind a professional expression, putting a bit more distance between him and Kaito, distance Kaito hadn’t noticed the absence of until Hakuba moved away.

Kaito pretended he hadn’t noticed, giving Takumi a smile. “I figured I’d pick you up. Since Hanae has a match today, we were going to get dinner first.” He glanced at Hakuba. “Any interest in seeing ten-year-olds try to play soccer?”

Hakuba, if anything, looked even more distant at that. “I am afraid I have a lot of grading to do.”

Kaito snorted. “You can just say no thanks, Hakuba. I’m not going to be offended.” Kaito threw an arm around his son’s shoulders, an arm which Takumi immediately tried to remove with an embarrassed squawk. “See ya later, Hakuba. Don’t work too hard.”

“Kuroba,” Hakuba said with a nod. He nodded to Takumi too, before walking away at a brisk pace.

“What the heck was that?” Takumi said once he was out of sight. “You’re inviting my teacher to see Hanae’s soccer game?”

“He strikes me as someone who needs to get out of his routine and do something social and distracting,” Kaito said, letting Takumi go.

“He’s still my teacher, Tou-san. It’s weird.”

“Is it?” Kaito hummed. “He’s also the same guy I knew from high school that showed up to Japan dressed as Sherlock Holmes so... If anything, seeing him be a teacher is the weird bit for me.” He sighed. “C’mon, we have dinner to get to.”

“You’re trying to be friends?” Takumi asked, trailing after him.

“Trying being key. Hakuba’s a stubborn guy. And about as trusting as I am.”

“You’re a trusting person,” Takumi said, confused.

Kaito smiled. “I’m a friendly person. There’s a difference.”

“Well Hakuba-sensei isn’t really either,” Takumi muttered. “Please don’t make this weird ok?”

“What was that? Tell him embarrassing stories of your childhood? Sure.”

“Tou-san!” Takumi groaned.

Kaito grinned and ruffled his hair. “Relax. I’m not going to make things weird.”

Takumi smooth his hair back into place, pouting. “You say that now but you always go overboard.”

Kaito just smiled and kept walking. He wasn’t going to admit that Takumi was right after all.

***

“Kuroba, if you regularly stalk all of your friends, I pity their sanity,” Hakuba said. He was sitting in the dark again with only the light from his laptop illuminating the room. There were three unwashed mugs in the sink and his cell phone on the edge of the desk lit up with an incoming message to reveal multiple missed calls.

Kaito had the feeling that he’d walked in on Hakuba in a depressive downswing. It was Saturday night; Hakuba could have been doing anything but he was sitting in front of a laptop with a blank document open and the cursor blinking away. “I came in the front door this time.”

“You picked the lock.”

“And I knocked.”

“After you’d already let yourself in.” Hakuba heaved a sigh. “Why are you here?”

Kaito had intended to check in and offer mochi, but apparently things were worse than he’d expected. That called for bigger actions. “To invite you on a walk.”

“I decline.”

“Ah ah,” Kaito said, pulling Hakuba to his feet. Hakuba wobbled, one leg clearly not working right. Kaito put his cane in his hand. “You look like someone who’s been sitting too long.”

“I need to be making lesson plans.”

“For when, two months in the future?” Hakuba was never anything less than prepared.

“Three weeks—I need to make changes based on progress and—”

“That’s great,” Kaito said, cutting him off and hustling Hakuba toward the door. Hakuba dragged his feet with a sputtering protest, but Kaito had his shoes on in a matter of seconds. “But you’re clearly not getting anywhere with that so change of pace! We’re going on a walk and getting fresh air and you’re going to eat some mocha I so generously have with me.”

“Who are you, my mother?” Hakuba complained.

“I don’t know, would she agree with me?” Kaito quipped. It was telling that Hakuba let himself get dragged out the door. “So,” Kaito said as he set them off toward a place that had a nice garden out front that was full of flowers and fresh plant smells and everything nice that the city so often swallowed up. “Today was a family bonding day! Once a month we all go do a random activity together—I do once a month just me and Takumi too, but this is everyone—and basically try things we’d never do otherwise. We ended up going to see a kabuki play and Hanae made us all go through the little museum exhibit attached to the theater where we all got a history lesson. I don’t think it was to any of our tastes but it was an interesting experience and the kids liked the history—there was a bit about ninjas and how stagehands would play them which they found cool.”

“That’s nice,” Hakuba said, clearly not listening closely. He looked out at the people they passed, students laughing together near a convenience store, people on their way home, lovers on a date...

“The company we saw was interested in experimenting with non-traditional plays and adaptations of foreign work. I think Shinichi was actually intrigued at the adaptation of one of Edogawa Ranpo’s works.” The idea, Kaito thought, was to get Hakuba out of the apartment. Engaging him in social behavior was secondary. “I dunno. I thought it was pretty amazing we made it through the day without any cases popping up. Kabuki would have been too perfect a setting for a murder with Shinichi’s luck.”

At the mention of murder, Hakuba looked at him. “Do people get murdered around him often then? I’d heard rumors but...” There was a glimmer of honest curiosity there. Kaito would take that.

“All the damn time,” Kaito said, both amused and rueful. ���There was a joke about how Shinichi was a death magnet years ago, but it’s statistically proven that he’s 90% more likely to run into a murder than anyone else on the force. And about half the ones he does run into are after hours. All of us have been scarred for life, I swear.” Only half a joke there. All of them—Kaito, Shinichi, Ran, the girls, even Takumi—had nightmares from time to time about things they’d stumbled across. “Funny but we’re less likely to run into that sort of thing when we’re out as a group.” Kaito’s theory was that it was his luck counteracting Shinichi’s with a side of Koizumi’s protective magic coming in strong with Takumi there.

“That doesn’t trouble you?”

“Of course it does. I’m used to it though.” Kaito smiled. And it was worth the occasional horrible moment of running into yet another corpse to have the rest of the time with everyone. “The good balances everything out.”

“Hmm.” Hakuba didn’t sound very convinced, but at least he was engaged in something other than self-destructing. “You seem truly happy so it must balance out.”

“Have I ever seemed unhappy to you?” Kaito said, scoffing.

Hakuba glanced at him from the corner of his eye before speeding up just enough that he didn’t have to see Kaito in his peripherals before he answered. “I don’t think your smiles back in high school were fake, but they weren’t heartfelt either. You smile like someone who is comfortable with their life now.”

Perceptive as ever, Hakuba, Kaito thought. “Well I can’t say I’m unhappy much these days,” he conceded after a bit. They reached a shop with large planters full of flowers and leafy greens. It had a bench near it too. The shop was closed for the moment but all around it had just the right kind of peaceful atmosphere Kaito was going for. “This looks like a good spot. Sit.”

“Kuroba,” Hakuba complained, sitting.

“It’s nice here,” Kaito said. He pulled out his mochi and offered some to Hakuba. Hakuba gave it a distrustful look. “There’s plain green tea mochi or ichigo daifuku if you prefer that. I’m not going to poison you. What would I get from that?”

“What do you get from any of this?” Hakuba asked, but he took a piece of mochi, relaxing in increments as the flowers and calm night air did their work.

“You know you could tell me about your day,” Kaito said. “Since I shared mine.”

“I didn’t ask to hear about yours.” Hakuba closed his eyes, leaning back on the bench, his head almost in one of the bushier lavender plants hanging over the edge of a planter. “I did laundry and stared at a word document today. I disappointed Mum by not going out for something other than groceries and ignoring her phone calls. Nothing interesting at all, Kuroba.”

“You’re doing something other than shopping now, so I guess you can cross that off your weekend list.”

Hakuba’s lips tipped up in a ghost of a smile. “I suppose I can. Perhaps I’ll survive calling Mum back tomorrow after all.”

“Happy to be of service,” Kaito said with a mock bow.

Hakuba opened his eyes, pinned Kaito with a stare straight out of their high school days, assessing and dissecting him with a look. “I don’t understand you at all, Kuroba,” he said. “And it annoys the hell out of me.”

Kaito kept himself open and relaxed. Gave a lazy shrug. “What’s there to understand? I’m here because I want to be.”

“And that’s what makes so little sense.” The intense look faded, turned inward again. “It can’t be interesting trying to get a response from me this time around.”

“Well I’m not trying to harass you this time around.” He smirked. “All jokes of me stalking you aside.”

Hakuba shook his head. “I had all these theories on you once. I doubt any of them fit with who you are now.”

“Yeah, well, life changes you. Takes you places you don’t expect.”

“It does.” And oops, now Hakuba looked depressed again.

Kaito put another piece of mochi in Hakuba’s hand. “But hey, we never could be friends in high school, but this is a second chance! Do over if you will.”

“Perhaps this is all some odd dream and I’ve slipped into an alternate reality where you’re actively nice,” Hakuba said, deadpan.

“I’ve always been nice!” Kaito protested.

“Before or after brutally pranking them?”

“Okay, we can all agree that teenagers live by different rules than adults.”

“Do they? That’s funny because I’ve noticed so many adults who clearly have never moved on from their teenaged mindsets.”

Kaito rolled his eyes. “Clearly we’re not one of those people or we wouldn’t be sitting here now.”

“I suppose not.” Hakuba ate his mochi.

Kaito steered the conversation away from personal and onto the weird things kids did—Takumi, Shiemi and Hanae as primary examples. Hakuba, it turned out, had plenty of stories about the weird shit his students had pulled over the years. He even laughed a few times, so win!

The streets were pretty deserted by the time their conversation wound down and they ran out of mochi. Hakuba looked a bit surprised when Kaito glanced at his watch and declared that it was after midnight. “Guess I have to take you home,” Kaito said with a grin. “You��re not Cinderella, but you could probably use some sleep.”

Hakuba scoffed. He was more alive now than when Kaito had dragged him from his apartment. “I’m not fragile, Kuroba. I am perfectly capable of getting home myself.”

“Yeah, but I dragged you here, so it’s only polite.”

They walked back mostly in silence, but it was a companionable sort of silence, not a melancholy one. Kaito walked Hakuba all the way to his door.

“Well,” Kaito said, “night, Hakuba. Get some sleep and I bet that lesson plan will be easy tomorrow.”

“Kuroba,” Hakuba said before Kaito could close the door. “...Thank you.”

Kaito grinned. “Any time!” Operation get Hakuba less depressed seemed to be working a bit.

***

“So,” Shinichi said, leaning on Kaito’s desk as he scribbled plans for a heist. “How is making friends going?”

“Surprisingly well,” Kaito said, flipping over his notes. They might live together and Shinichi didn’t attend many heists, but that didn’t mean Kaito was just going to make it easy for him if he did randomly decide to show up for this next one. “I think I got a few actual smiles last time. I might be able to convince him to leave the apartment and socialize with other human beings.”

Shinichi snorted. “Yeah that sounds like progress. You seem to be having fun with it.”

“You know, I am.” Kaito hadn’t expected to. He’d half been bracing for Hakuba’s nastier side from high school to rise up, but Hakuba was actually decent company. And he wasn’t plotting to turn Kaito into the police. In fact, he’d made several points to say he was retired and not interested in chasing Kid the few times it came up. Besides having a few actually fun conversations, there was part of Kaito that just enjoyed giving people pleasant surprises. Hakuba was consistently pleasantly surprised. Even if he always complained about Kaito showing up, he’d never tried to kick him out or ignore him. All in all, it was kind of nice having another person to talk to who was in the know. “He’s still making a depressed hermit of himself, but I think he’s starting to open up again more. Would you mind if I invite him along sometime? You know as well as I do that being around people is sometimes what you need to pull you out of your head.” It worked with Kaito, and Kaito knew now that it had been what pulled Shinichi through his time as Conan.

“Go ahead. I’m curious if he’s still keeping up with legal changes in the news. I want his opinion on some of the new laws passed.”

“Ran and I and your coworkers don’t have enough insight?”

“Hakuba might be retired, but he still was a detective. It’s a different perspective.”

Kaito smiled. “If all else fails, bring up Sherlock Holmes. That will keep you going for hours.”

Shinichi’s face lit up at the thought. There weren’t many people who would willingly talk Holmsian theory with him for hours. Kaito snickered. Shinichi and Hakuba could go be nerdy Holmes fanboys together.

“You can never have enough friends,” Kaito said.

“Invite him. I definitely need to talk to someone that isn’t you or Heiji about the new Miss Sherlock adaptation.”

“Shinichi, is there an adaptation you haven’t seen?” Kaito teased.

“There are a lot I haven’t read, but—”

Kaito laughed at him.

“Oh, shut up. You collect phantom thief and trickster figures in your media taste. I collect Sherlock Holmes adaptations.”

“And pretty much any halfway decent mystery novel.”

“Only good ones. I have standards.”

Considering the number of times Kaito had seen Shinichi reading cheap English paperback novels with pun-filled titles, Kaito had to wonder at Shinichi’s supposed standards, but what did he know? Kaito had other genres calling his name.

“Invite him,” Shinichi repeated. “I want to know him since he’s someone you’ve decided to keep.”

It was a funny way of putting it, but not wrong. Shinichi knew how Kaito’s mind worked, how he looked at people as ‘his’ if they stayed in his orbit long enough, could handle him at his worst as well as his best. Kaito’d more or less decided he was up and adopting Hakuba into his friend group, so yeah, he was keeping him. Even if Hakuba was reluctant. “Thanks,” Kaito said.

Shinichi waved his thanks away. “It’s nothing. Oh, and Kaito?”

“Yeah?”

“Might want to pick a better pun for that heist note. You’re getting predictable.”

Kaito threw a balled up piece of paper at Shinichi. Shinichi, the jerk, just caught it and walked away. 

AAAAnd basically it’d pan out kind of like NLTSA, only without the romantic sublot, Kaito not nearly dying, yadda yadda. Hakuba’s now a family friend. And dates Hiroto for a bit. Before they stumble into Hiroto’s job’s actual business at which point things get dicey for a bit. But I’m not writing it. I have written enough. Goddamn have I written enough for this AU of an AU. So my brain can STOP GIVING ME SCENARIOS ok? Okay. >_> Enjoy this monster of a mess of random scenes.....At least half of why this even happened is because my brain went "Haha, 'Kai-Tou-san'! Puns! Haaaa" and it wanted something more happy. But also pun >_> I'm sorry this is rougher. But I hope it made someone smile. Happy holiday season, or happy end of the year for people who don't holiday.

[wherethestoryhasimagination]

As a Pallet cleanser...

I’ve posted a bit to much Meat. And so before I dive on in to Candy, which, from the impressions I’ve gathered, contains terrors greater than those found in meat, I’ll be providing some ‘Candy’ of my own, hopefully in a form reminiscent of thin mint cookies.

I’ll be making as wholesome, happy, and generally carefree a post as I can possibly make.

I’m going to be BluHing out my thoughts and ideas for things I would Hope for, dream of, and expect to possibly see in various percentages of those three of-

Animal Crossing.

As Animal Crossing has progressed through the Years, more and more chances for Player agency to influence the world have come to be. even going so far as to give you an official government job where you help to plan/fund Public infrastructure & The Arts. An update was even added at one point that would let you have more control over what Villagers were in your town; something practically impossible in past games, & in the pre-update New-Leaf.

I expect this trend to continue, though how it continues may vary; my Hopes for the hypothetically possible, & Dreams for the incredibly unlikely as follows.

Furniture Creation; it can be tricky getting that last piece of a set that just never seems to be in stock. but if you had a way to get furniture pieces that are not in your catalog, such randomness would be relieved… There’s even already ways to change some pre-existing pieces of furniture by bringing it and a set of gems to an npc in retail… severely limited in that form, but… a definite precursor to being able to get the furniture you want by using resources you have. and while it is a spin off I know little about, I believe Pocket Camp actually Does have a more tangible form of ‘crafting’. it even has an official Quarry to dig in.

extensions on the new ‘burst collection’ mechanic introduced in Pocket Camp; Pocket camp introduced items such as fishing nets and honey for gathering fish and bugs faster than one could with a rod or bug net. in a new game without micro transactions, a number of things could be done to balance the effectiveness, cost, and availability of items that help make it easier to get things; like rotted turnips & candy attracting ants, but elaborated upon.

improved mail system; just a little thing here. maybe a Villager you had been best friends with, but who had to move away, could send you a postcard inviting you to visit, should you ever wish to do so, with a Picture of their new town on it.

Food options; even if they are as useless as eating has always been, more options would be nice. like actually getting to partake in the displays that appear on some holidays, or being able to actually eat some pudding, like what some Villagers claim to have accidentally eaten 23 servings of from time to time… And hey, if some villagers have favorite foods, getting it for them could be a nice thing to do. maybe going to Brewsters could serve a purpose other than buying coffee till you’re given access to Gyroid storage, or working a small, part-time job.

semi-open world feel; even if it’s just an illusion, it would be groundbreaking for The Flanking Cliffs to finally give way to nature. even if the Cliffs are just sometimes replaced by massive clusters of impassible, unchopable trees that serve the same purpose. a tiny bit of variety in world wall could help. but full, low restriction openness is the dream… maybe have rivers a little bit wider than most, that you could eventually make crossable with foot-Bridges…(trains and such have their own bridges already of course, so you can still take the train to new places) … you know what? yea… Building Bridges… uniting the World… I like that. from now on, my hypothetical Animal Crossing game will be called ‘Animal Crossing Bridge Builders’.

Wood?/new tree mechanics?; the Ax is one of the least used tools. and once you’ve got the trees you want exactly where you want them, it begins to feel like Time slows down… The World only changing when you or villagers make it change, or with the seasons. a bit more of a purpose to trees could be an incentive to experiment, or to pay more attention to The World, as you watch new saplings grow far more frequently than you ever did when planting new trees was a one-off aesthetic setup. Plus, if furniture crafting does become a thing, you got to get materials somewhere.

‘More’; exactly as it says on the tin. More fruit types, more tree types, more Villagers… a simple expectation, but one worth note.

extend on the mining thing from pocket camp?; I’m mostly thinking of this for the sake of a single gag… The mining place underground is randomly generated once a week or so… And poor Mr. Resetti… Another job change has resulted in them being tasked with helping facilitate the process that… Resets, the underground so that you’ll always have fresh access to the resources you need.

(huh… food, crafting, fishing, foraging, mining… this is starting to become more and more like Stardew Valley, only without an official farmland)

Balloon Presents; you ever wonder where those balloons come from? maybe you could give something back. Perhaps you could release things up into the air, where someone, somewhere will eventually get it. 

‘Island Search’; an excuse for the ability to Design, shape and all, your very own island. after all, the Ocean is so big, that of course you’ll end up finding an island that matches what you want. The ultimate in Player agency over control over their environment; such as also being able to send invitations, or approve applications for Villagers so that they can come and live on your island. and, depending on how ‘north or south’ your island is, the seasons may pass normally, seem to always be summer, or so on.

non-real-time option; this is likely a dream that would be divisive. Real-time has always been a staple of the series. a mechanic that always has been. Well, like what was done with Breath of The Wild, even the most fundamental core aspects of the series should be open to revision and review, to see if it really is the best possible option. What if sleeping in your Bed could actually pass time? what if you didn’t have to be caught in a cycle of only being able play for however long it takes you to find the ore & money rocks, the new buried objects, and such, before the majority of everything new in the world that day has been expended, leaving the chance for you to stale the remaining time you play by running through pre-treaded ground, or for you to simply skip time anyway and change the date to, for example, see if what you want in the store or such shows up. (the ability for the gameplay loop to avoid turning stale could also be avoided with any other number of changes that could be implemented) this is just a possibility worth keeping in mind. also, next, as a possible middle ground that could help branch the two different time options…

Live events; like how Splatoon has Splatfests, and Smash has select Spirit events, there could be special happenings that follow a Real-realtime structure. like, ‘all furniture you’ll find by shaking trees will match your favorite Color this week!’ or, ‘manta-ray migration! the Villagers are going to be celebrating this event as they would a holiday sometime this week’(perhaps on the first available in-game day you play that week, so that it isn’t restricted to only a 24 hour window that some people would be more likely to miss)

more Amiibo Villagers; this might fall under ‘more’, but wouldn’t it be amazing if a majority of the amiibo released had villagers associated with them? I for one, would love to have an Octopus Guardian Villager Friend.

better character creation; the game has partially approached this, with things like beak accessories, but, what if you could be an animal like the other Villagers? And, perhaps, if you opt-in to this, The game could eventually Generate an Npc version of your Animal based on various actions and interactions the game slowly gathers as you play. An Npc that could then be found by other Players in their Worlds. so that there is always a new face to meet… there is a lot of variables here, and naturally, it would need to be monitored to prevent those with unkind intent from tainting the world, but if the game could Generate new Villagers, rather than being limited to a set of pre-made Villagers that would seem to be a drop in the bucket by comparison… and for you to know that the character you’ve met, who is kind and friendly to some degree, was created based off of a Person in the real World who is not all that different from you? To have a Worldwide Community of People able to see that no matter who you are, or where you come from, that you can be kind? That we can learn to love eachother, both despite and because of our differences? …

I’m not going to say it could lead to World Peace, but I won’t say that it won’t lead to World Peace.

Sable; ‘oh Hello! How are you doing today? My sisters can help you if you wanted to buy something, but if you wanted to make something yourself, I could help you figure it out’

Years of countless Players sharing their Love and support for Sable has grown into a warm feeling she will always have with her in her Heart… She will Never doubt herself or her value as a person ever again… And if you still choose to talk to her every day, She will still want to be your Friend.

Permanence vs drifting; It is nice to work hard, and make something of the town you live in… Developing bonds with your Villagers… Till you know every bump, crack, and turn in it… till it becomes Home… But, more and more traveler elements have been introduced… Campers, and mobile homes. even the towns of other players accessed through your dreams. Perhaps you could explore the world, like the Villagers who visit your town are, ready to see who you might meet, and what you might see… and who knows… maybe one day, you’ll stop. You’ll look around. You’ll feel the cool air against your skin. You’ll see the sun start to set beyond the mountaintop. You’ll sit by the campfire, and see smiles on faces… and just maybe… After how long it has taken you to reach this moment… You might decide…

That you are, right now, exactly where you want to be…

That you’ve finally made it Home.

[whenthisstoryendsarchive]

Meta #5: A Comparison of Elizabeth’s Soul & Elle’s Heart

While watching the film, we see many instances of the importance of both the heart and the soul, especially in relation to magic. Elizabeth is trapped by her soul, while Elle’s heart is ultimately what sets her free. And one may argue that because of this, Elle’s heart is stronger than Elizabeth’s soul.

But I don’t think that this is the case. Remember, Elizabeth has been with Locke for “a long time”, which I play as being a century, but could be even longer than that. And from the first day of her captivity, Locke has been siphoning her power from her soul, thus making Elizabeth weaker and weaker until she has to rely on humans to gain her freedom.

Don’t forget, Elizabeth is a full-blooded mermaid. She was born in the sea, and is the daughter of a sea king and the descendant of sea gods. By all rights, she should be far stronger than Thora or Elle. Her only rival should be Locke. Elle, on the other hand, is a human. But she only has the heart of a mermaid. Which makes her significantly stronger than Thora because she has a source of power that is greater than a human. Locke, on the other hand, I don’t see as being human. At least, not anymore, if he ever truly was. When we see him in the prologue, he’s more demonic or dementor like than a person. And I fully believe that the form we see during the film is one he uses to walk amongst people. And it’s possible that Elizabeth and maybe Thora are the only ones to see what his true form is. And I can see his true form being even worse than the terrible cloaked figure from the prologue.

Still, that leaves us with the question, when it comes to magic and spirit, which would be stronger? The heart or the soul? Trying to find this was actually harder than I thought it would be. While I don’t feel satisfied fully with the information I was able to find, I will try to apply it in a way that will at least attempt to answer the way I had wanted to originally.

When we look at the soul and the heart side by side, we can draw some distinct differences. For example, the soul is considered to be divine, while the heart is of the body and expresses the body’s wants and needs. The heart is linked to the material aspects of life, while the soul corresponds to the spiritual. The soul gives life and consciousness to our bodies, but the heart does not. This is because the heart is a part of the body and dies when the body does, but the soul is everlasting and eternal. We can see that in order for life to exist, a balance of both heart and soul are needed, but the soul remains distinct and separate even with that knowledge.

Balance is not just crucial for life to be created, but harmony between heart and soul is also required for happiness and wellness. We’ve all felt off balance, ill, or at odds with the world when stress becomes too much to bear, and this only goes to show the vitality of keeping heart and soul at peace. As a part of the body, the heart is responsible for telling us what we need, what we may not like, and what problems we are facing. This is done through the senses we have and use every day. The heart is also linked to our inner mind and reflects what occurs there. Perhaps most importantly, the heart is meant to serve the soul, and without the heart, our bodies are useless.

But on the other side of the coin, the soul is the center of our being. Like Elizabeth, we cannot find true happiness when our souls are being smothered. Our souls are said to be linked to our inner consciousness, where happiness is found both within and without.

We all possess an intricate and important balance of soul, mind, and body when we try to find and do what makes us happy, and being aware of this fact is crucial. Knowing of this link and addressing it allows us to be self-aware, find purpose, heighten our consciousness, let go of fears of the unknown, and form deeper connections with whatever higher powers we might believe in.

With this in mind, we can now look deeper into the heart and the soul on individual levels, and determine the roles that they both play in magic. First, the heart.

As we might suspect, gratitude is perhaps one of the key parts of magic related to the heart. It’s been noted that when we feel more gratitude in our hearts, we have more things to be grateful for in our lives. There has, according to the source, even been scientific notes of this. These notes tell us that when we focus on or pay special attention to the heart when we feel gratitude for something, our heart rhythms turn more harmonious and balanced instantly, which leads to better health and immune function overall. This, in turn, increases both the depths of our feelings and the benefits or rewards we see from that. Though we may consider this to be some kind of magical thinking, or expect some surge of power, it really comes down to simple things like tingling sensations in the heart, times of joy, happy tears, or even goosebumps. It has also been stated that by focusing more on gratitude allows an increase of peace and contentment in our daily lives.

Though gratitude may be the most important part of heart magic, there are also several other areas that are crucial to consider. These include compassion, dignity, equanimity, forgiveness, humility, integrity, justice, kindness, and love. In this area of magic, these areas would call for openness to both oneself and others, recognizing that every living thing has and deserves dignity, admitting that life has ups and downs but trying to find balance anyway, offering forgiveness, being grateful for what we have, knowing that there is no such thing as ‘being better than others’, living and honesty life with integrity, looking after and standing up for those who may be vulnerable or weaker, being kind, keeping the heart open, and being free with the love that we hold.

We all know that religions across the world focus on the soul and the crucial link that the heart has to it. For example, in the Qur’an, we see a quote that reads “There is in the body a chunk of flesh- if it becomes good, the whole body becomes good and if it becomes bad, the whole body becomes bad. And indeed it is the heart”. Rather like the Ancient Egyptians, followers of Islam believe that they will be judged for the lives they lived and the things they did by the condition of the heart. I found it interesting while reading this article that even good deeds can be considered bad or sinful if they were done for a selfish reason. And while this should seem common sense, it seems to be something that not many focus on anymore. In short, no amount of time spent bettering and softening the heart is wasted, as it makes us more merciful.

From reading this article, we see just how important the heart and true selflessness are to Islam. Corruption in the heart turns knowledge hard, and a lack of mercy in one’s life leads to distress and discomfort. It’s clear that a hard heart is considered a curse, while a soft one is a blessing.

What it ultimately comes down to is the heart determines the fate of the soul.

The soul, however, seems to be a little more complex than we might think. But a simple way to think of it is like attracts like. No matter what we do in our lives, the soul is what leads us. All of our thoughts and actions may be given life by way of our creativity, but that creativity comes from the soul, thus making us who we are. No one can deny how much faster and easier tasks are when we feel invested in them and enjoy doing them. We find ourselves enjoying actually doing the work, and feeling more satisfied with the final outcomes of them. This is because our souls are in tune with the task. But when we allow fear and feelings of insecurity or inadequacy to grip us, our enjoyment and fulfillment are severely limited. Sometimes, the road to getting back to harmony and attunement can be as simple as trying different approaches to the task, or working on adjusting our energy and balance.

Of course, for many of us, this is far from an easy task. And often, our own worst enemies are ourselves. Our words and thoughts may be influenced by the energies and environments around us, but we have the final say in the direction our energy and efforts take. But if we allow the negative to hold us back and drag us down, it will lead to further imbalances. What we go through in life shapes us, and there is no denying that. But the final say of who we are, the paths we take, and the successes we have are in our hands. We have to choose the paths we walk in life, and though conflict may influence parts of it, we have to keep choosing to move forward so that our souls can reach their highest potential.

It is also worth noting the role that connections to not only the heart, but other souls can play. At one time or another, we have all felt a connection to someone else. Whether it be bonding right away with the person who becomes our best friend, or meeting a future lover for the first time and feeling like we’ve known them all of our lives, our souls seek out connections to help us thrive. But not all of these connections can be good, especially when we consider magically. While this website is most likely for fictional work, I found the article in question to be a good way to explain the connection and bond between Locke and Elizabeth.

One key factor comes down to the souls in question. This is because connecting your soul to someone else’s can influence them both. It would be even more drastic if one soul is stronger and more powerful than the other. Any form of connection like this would require a strong will and sense of self in order to avoid manipulation of your soul.

Though this manipulation may change something within the soul, but it does not change the essence of the soul itself. This was rather nicely explained in the article with the example of the mage and the fire, where a spiritually strong mage may be able to slow the fire’s progress, the fire itself is not changed and can still turn to an inferno. This means that the soul of the manipulator, or stronger force can also become endangered as well.

A person is simply not meant to better themselves by means of stealing what is good in others. It is essentially lying to ourselves and everyone around us. While we can look to others for inspiration to find our best selves, we cannot find that self by pretending to be something we are not. When we are not sure of who we are, and try to fill ourselves up with the identities of those around us, we lose even more of ourselves. This may also be influenced by our morals and what we value in our lives.

If we do consider that a stronger soul is able to absorb and influence a weaker one, then that would in turn cause the stronger soul to be even harder to influence when someone else comes along. We can argue this because that stronger soul would have bits and pieces of all the weaker souls it absorbed and melded itself with. If someone down the line would want to try and influence the greater soul, it would first need to change and influence all those smaller pieces of weaker souls, and then focus on the larger one.

This would then, logically, cause the energy and essence of the weaker soul to be lost, potentially forever. This could become permanent if the lesser soul is not able to return to its original and rightful body. Thusly, the number of people within the connection and the size of the more powerful soul will factor into the rate of loss and how permanent it may be.

Another factor would be how deep the connection between the two souls goes. A lighter more superficial connection could actually be beneficial to one or both parties, but a deeper one can harm. Whether the weaker soul is aware of the connection is also important, as the odds of returning to its body are more likely when it is aware of where it is, naturally, meaning that those chances drop for those who are unaware. It is also critical whether the stronger soul is “good” or “evil”, because this will determine of restoring the weaker soul is even possible in the first place.

Of course, we do have to point out that change in our lives is not bad in and of itself, because change is the pivotal factor in growth. And without change, growth would not exist. What we do need to look out for, and guard ourselves against, is the dangerous loss of control. This loss of power is what forces the lesser soul to bond to and be absorbed by the stronger one, the impacts of which, as we’ve seen, can be disastrous. While everyone wants to be accepted, we need to remember that being our individual selves is what allows us to think outside the box, resist pressure from others, lead well, be happy, and even inspire others. When we connect souls, we take on the qualities of the other, and thus lower our own individuality.

As we can see, these factors for both heart and soul play greatly into the story and the fates of Elizabeth, Elle, and even Locke.

Elle, though she was suffering greatly from the loss of her parents and feeling desperate and depressed because of her illness and Cam’s overprotectiveness, carried many of the qualities of heart related magic. She was grateful for what she had, and shared that grace and charm with others. And because of that, she was able to maintain her happy and optimistic nature despite her battles. She very much embodied compassion, dignity, equanimity, forgiveness, gratitude, humility, integrity, justice, kindness, and love. She is the very definition of a merciful and soft heart. And though her soul is still that of a human, we can see that her mermaid’s heart is exceptionally strong even when she hesitates and almost seems to consider Locke’s offer. This strength is what proved to be the wizard’s undoing. Because her heart is magical and her soul is not, we do find ourselves in a bit of a catch 22, since all evidence seems to point to the soul being the stronger of the two despite the heart’s great influence. However, I would argue that because of her heart, Elle already had a stronger soul than most people. It may not have been on par with Elizabeth’s at her strongest, but it was significantly stronger than Cam’s or maybe Thora’s. And while I can see her potentially having displays of her magic throughout her life, I think it would be fair to say that Elle never reached her full potential until the battle with Locke. And from then on, her heart- which was stronger than her soul previously- only grew more powerful, and that perhaps allowed her soul to catch up to some degree. Bonding with Elizabeth and Thora however briefly that night likely opened just the right door that Elle needed to find her height of power.

Elizabeth, on the other hand, was not sure of who she was. She wanted to be something she wasn’t, and longed to be someone that would mean something to others; which she felt she did not as a mermaid. This made her soul vulnerable to Locke’s manipulation. While she too is optimistic, we do see periods of when she gives in to despair and thinks that there is no escape for her. During her century of captivity, Locke not only absorbed her powers to strengthen himself, but I feel he unwittingly was absorbing her soul and who she is, leaving her feeling more and more lost, and making that optimism and faith harder to hold on to. The fact that she did cling to it at all, and that her soul worked and fought so hard to ensure it could return to her is huge. Locke’s powers and soul are so immense that he rendered her basically almost weaker than a human. By all rights, she should have never gotten her soul, her self, back at all. Even if Cam did manage to find and take the vial back. But she did. And that is not only impressive, but extremely moving.

Both girls have good hearts and souls, and both are without a doubt strong in their own ways. Magically speaking, I would say that Elizabeth is stronger, just because she is a full mermaid. She has the heart, soul, and powers of her people, and her ancestors on her side. Elle is still mostly human, and though her magic is without a doubt great, she would hold no candle to Elizabeth at her full power. But to speak on a level of individual strength, I would say that Elle is the stronger one. After all, it was the addition of her powers to Elizabeth and Thora’s that allowed Locke’s to be stripped from him, turn him to stone, and truly free Elizabeth. This can be because Elle’s sense of who she is, her assurance, and her inner balance may be stronger than Elizabeth’s was when she was young. Elizabeth wanted to be something else, but Elle was sure of who she was and what she believed, and nothing anyone could say would change that. Not even her uncle’s skepticism and trying to convince her she was falling for lies and only saw fairy tales. Elle’s assurance at her young age is astonishing just as much as Elizabeth’s endurance.

But the bond the girls share together is clearly one of mutual benefit, as they give each other strength, hope, and the power to be better than they ever dreamed they could be. By fighting so hard to protect Elle, Elizabeth was able to find her own strength and finally accept who she was. And by her unerring faith in Elizabeth’s truth and her selfless determination to return her to the ocean, Elle was able to finally find acceptance and courage to be all she dreamt of. Even if they never saw each other again after that day on the beach, Elle and Elizabeth would be bonded for life in the best possible way.

I would consider their hearts and souls at the end of the movie as equal in strength, where Elle’s heart may have been stronger before Locke’s defeat. And it is possible that because of her heart, Elle’s soul may have even been stronger than Locke’s since she was able to defeat him. And it is the strength and goodness of Elle’s soul that allows Elizabeth’s to continue to fight and finally break free of Locke’s unrelenting grip on it. Elle’s influence in the early movie ended up being what saved Elizabeth, where at the end Elizabeth paid it back by saving Elle and turning their bond to one that has no possible way of harming either of them, as they are now even stronger kindred spirits than they were when they first met.

Sources:

http://themagicofthesecret.blogspot.com/2012/07/day-20-heart-magic.html

http://intothemagicshop.com/alphabet

http://www.groundedpsychic.com/single-post/2016/04/08/You-Are-The-Soul-of-Magic

https://worldbuilding.stackexchange.com/questions/13149/what-might-be-dangers-of-connecting-your-own-soul-to-a-stronger-soul

http://sunnahonline.com/library/purification-of-the-soul/614-hardening-of-the-heart

https://www.trivedieffect.com/inspiration-blog/soul-mind-and-body/

https://www.quora.com/What-is-the-difference-between-the-heart-and-the-soul-on-spiritual-basis-of-life