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Ship: Hakuba/Hattori Heiji (Meitanteiosaka)

Mun’s Theories:

who cooks normally?: Hakuba. He’s been trained, is good at, and enjoys it, though I believe Heiji would learn to cook his Osakan favorites because he thinks Hakuba can’t do it right for some reason.

how often do they fight?: Every. Single. Day. Usually nothing serious, though. I think the constant bantering keeps the pressure fairly low. 

what do they do when they’re away from each other?: Work, probably. I bet they both do a lot of work. All the time. Together, not together, just working. Heiji keeps up Kendou, though, and Hakuba probably has some sort of stupid hobby… 

nicknames for each other?: Heiji’d call Hakuba “Damn Prat” and Hakuba would call Heiji “Savage Brute” — hey these aren’t very nice, are they? 

who is more likely to pay for dinner?: They fight over it because they’re both spoiled rich kids with hearts of gold. 

who steals the covers at night?: HEIJI. THAT BASTARD. 

what would they get each other for gifts?: Books. When they get their own place it’s almost nothing but bookshelves. 

who remembers things?: Hakuba, definitely.

who cusses more?: It’s about equal, at least when they’re alone together. Otherwise, Heiji. 

what would they do if the other one was hurt?: Freak out and transform into the Mamma Bear or Mother Hen that they are. All of the cuddling and gentleness. 

who kissed who first?: Heiji kissed Hakuba first, while they were drunk. Probably because Hakuba was saying that Heiji’d never do it. 

who made the first move?: Once the kiss happened it was all over and Hakuba ATTACKED~ 

who started the relationship?: Heiji, since Hakuba was too shy to, oddly enough.

Hakuba’s Thoughts: 

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“Hattori-kun? Well… I suppose he is rather attractive, and we do have much in common… I’m not certain that it would be the healthiest relationship ever, though, given my tendency to bait him.”

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More NaNo (oocic)

Hakuba: Oh, good! You’re at work. Ready for another day of listening to nothing but Selena Gomez?
Me: …are you /sure/ that you’re not secretly a preteen girl?
Hakuba: Yes, very certain. Oh! Put that song on repeat, please.
Me: love you like a love song… well okay then…
Hakuba: and I keep hitting repeat-peat-pea-
Me: I’m trying to work, Hakuba.
Hakuba: Fine. Instead, I will tell you more about the amazingly attractive thief character who steals my main character’s heart and-
Me: ohgodstop I already have to listen to you talk about Kaitos all day!
Hakuba: He wears a red hoodie. And steals a kiss in a way that will make all of my readers /swoon/~
Me: letting you participate in NaNoWriMo was one of my worst ideas, I swear
Hakuba: It’s especially funny that it seems I’ve recently been followed by some other blogs that, tee hee, enhance his character…
Me: pleasestoptalking
Hakuba: He also wears a red, leopard-print cat suit yes.
Me: woaaahh I did /not/ need that mental imagery rhjekdijnfjke
Hakuba: :3!

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Domesticity Meme -Edited-

camiechan:

If you can think of a ship for my muse and another RPr’s muse I will answer these questions about them.

who cooks normally?:

how often do they fight?:

what do they do when they’re away from each other?:

nicknames for each other?:

who is more likely to pay for dinner?:

who steals the covers at night?:

what would they get each other for gifts?:

who remembers things?:

who cusses more?:

what would they do if the other one was hurt?:

who kissed who first?:

who made the first move?:

who started the relationship?:

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Shadows || themoonlightthief / camiechan

camiechan:

He shook his head, breathing through his nose as he tried to push the nausea down, away, because throwing up – again – was not on the list of things he wanted to do right now. He didn’t have time for it. Not when—

Eyes once more snapping open, he quickly scanned the area, gaze carefully darting over the floor, the walls, and every visible object and surface. Movement in the corner of his eye made the magician’s breath catch in his throat, but when he turned his head to look, there was nothing there. Imagination? Possibly. But then again, maybe not.

“N-no, no ambulance, I—” Kaito swallowed, attention returning to Hakuba. It hurt to speak and he was still feeling disoriented and dizzy – more so than he was comfortable with – but he still managed a small grin, forcing any hints of pain away as he pushed himself up to a sitting position. “I’m fine. I just had a bit of an accident with a…a new trick. Sorry for worrying you.”

Alright. Maybe he was more out of it than he thought. 

For a moment, Hakuba’s hand had looked almost transparent. But that, if anything, had to be his imagination. Right?

The terror on the thief’s face was enough to move the shadow into action once again. Lusting for more screams of agony it closes upon the two, quietly snaking behind the blonde. More memories surfaced, more desire to see the horror on it’s target, more hunger.

The shadow coiled the half brit’s leg, silently and barely visible it moved upward. Then shadowy hands materialize around its victim’s neck, repeating the same burning sensation it had with the other. Bubbling darkness burning like acid over skin and it drags him to the floor; choking him of the oxygen he needed to breathe.

Hakuba sat back at Kaito’s reassurance, though he was utterly unconvinced. Looking over the other boy again, the foreign detective frowned and sighed, watching him sit up straight. That was certainly better than before, he reasoned, so he couldn’t have been that badly off, right? 

Still yet unaware of the creeping shadow that moved up his leg and body, Hakuba cracked a smile of his own, brow raising to give him a quizzical appearance, as if he were preparing to give the thief a lecture.

“It’s nothing, really… I’m, ah, honored that you thought to come to me.” The admission came with a bit of a creeping blush and a small, shy smile. “Are you certain that you’re all right? You know, I’ve heard that practicing new magic tricks on your own is a good way to get ki-”

The words cut off abruptly with a strangled cry of surprise and pain. “Wh-what is-?!” Hands reached for his throat to pull of whatever had him, but while his right hand recoiled immediately from the burning, his left hand went right through his throat.

He barely had time to process this before he was forced backward, tumbling from his position on the floor to press with back against the hard, polished marble with a smack. With the wind already knocked out of him from the fall, the choking quickly filled him with fiery panic. All attempts to pry the hands from himself were met, again, with nothing but frustration and blistering heat.

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bookshop: seraphica: This is a set of chocolates made to look (and somewhat act) like a set of paints. Alas, this limited-edition set is only available in Japan, and it’ll run you 4,200 yen (around $43 US). That’s probably for the best, though, because I would refuse to ever actually eat something that perfect. CARAMEL […]

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[Don’t chase the rabbit!!]

And now, a random memory from Hakuba’s past… 

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Once upon a time, when Hakuba was just a little four year-old Ickleba, he lived in Japan with both his mother and his father. They were negotiating moving back to London at the time, and decided to get some of the more tourist-y activities out of the way first. After all, they were certain that they would never return to Japan, and wanted to give their little Saguru a chance to experience all that he could of the culture that would undoubtedly shun him if they stayed.

So off they went to a festival. OBON FESTIVAL! 

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Hakuba Sr and Marion put little Saguru in the outfit and got him the traditional snacks and all of that good stuff, most of which he only vaguely remembers. This is because, as wonderful and exciting and colorful as everything was, the boy noticed a turtle in one of the ponds when they first arrived and… he kept wandering back to look for it, time and time again.

Slipping out of his parents’ hands was a skill that he had mastered by then, and made ample use when something caught his eye. You’d think that the Hakubas would have an easy time finding their OBVIOUSLY foreign son, but alas, he was too small and quick. Being pale and blonde did them no good when there were too many people in bulky, colorful attire, balloons, lanterns, and so on. 

They eventually did find him, though, standing in the middle of the pond barefoot, water up to his knees, searching in the dark for the turtle. Singing, of all things, for it to come and let him take it home. 

Fireworks were great and all, but had nothing on that turtle, which had long since hidden from the splashing, wild movements of the boy. Oops. 

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…it was much relieved when he was unceremoniously dragged out and home over his father’s shoulder, as you might imagine. 

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A Tale of Rifles and Silver Bullets

okiya-subaru:

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Drinking tea again? Goodness, this boy was British. “…It’s best to keep calling me Subaru. Anyway, there was a reason why we initially came to Japan. We were hunting for an operative that goes by the name of Vermouth. She did quite a bit in the US and headed off to Japan.

“We got clearance to work within the country to track her down and bring her back to be tried in the US. Unfortunately, she’s eluded our grasp at every turn. She’s a cunning one, though I did manage to deal with her lackey, Calvados. Broke his legs, but he killed himself to avoid being captured… That’s a recurring motif with the Black Organization. Everyone in it, when they know that they’re going to be captured and cannot weasel their way out, commits suicide.”

He could go into details about why that was the case, but he figured he shouldn’t overload his student’s brain even more just yet. [Namely a mixture of a cult-like brainwashing practice and terrifying people about the consequences of snitching to the police, federal agents, and so forth.]

“Anyway, though the FBI are still in Japan to deal with the Black Organization, I am not sure about if they have any other agents as their targets. I don’t have access to that sort of information and, though Kudou may hear a bit more, I doubt they’d just tell him, unless he explained everything to them, which is something he’d almost never do.”

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The detective paused momentarily at the mention of ‘Vermouth,’ eyes narrowing ever so slightly before he continued to sip his tea. When it was finished, he leaned forward to set the cup on the table, then leaned back to continue soaking in every detail dispensed by his bat sensei. This he did while forcing himself to avoid the temptation of making playful references to him truly being the night and so on. It was difficult, but he managed. 

In the end, he nodded, lips pressed into a thin, thoughtful line. 

"I must admit that I’m incredibly curious about this ‘Vermouth’ that you speak of, as well as the other intricacies of your work with the FBI… however, before I ask for more details about that, I do need to ask. Do you prefer your blood from the hospital or black market?"