#commxnd

“ Morning big guy, & yes, I’d take the exact same as yesterday, & the day before & ... you got it. ”     It had become a routine; a cup of coffee, eggs & bacon, with croissants if he had some. Dinah didn’t care if he took her for some big eater, she would never shy away from food. 

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kyo’s fondest memory is definitely ( pre-fruits basket), the first time he met his master, kazuma . though his memory of the moment is definitely vague, since he was so young , he remembers how is master made him feel , after being rejected by his own parents . he remembers how warm his master was to him, how he never recoiled or treated him as  anyone less. it was the first kindness he had experienced in his entire life, and the years spent training with kazuma helps to only reinforce this bond . even though he comes to learn that kazuma treats him this way out of repentance to his grandfather , kyo can’t find it in his heart to bear a grudge against the man. 

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     his head comes up when the door to his office opens, tired eyes taking a moment to focus on the person as they come in, having been focused on nothing farther than his desk for the last hour or two. when his eyes do focus and he properly sees the older man, Alec permits himself a weary smile as he sets the papers he’d been going through aside. ❛ to what do I owe THIS pleasure? ❜ he asks, rubbing his fingers over his eyes for a moment before looking down at his watch. he can’t stop the groan when he sees what time it is. ❛ actually, scratch that. better question... what are YOU doing awake at this hour? ❜

niko is definitely more the ‘we’ll see where this goes ‘ kind of person . he never sets out into any kind of relationship thinking this is the one , he’s far from a serial monogamist and has a hook up list that’s far longer than it should be , the truth is that he wants someone that will care about him , wants someone to come home to  but to say it’s his endgame at all times is … a stretch . 

𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐄 𝐀 ✖ 𝐈𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐄𝐍𝐉𝐎𝐘 𝐌𝐘 𝐏𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐘𝐀𝐋 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐘 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑.

@commxnd

          at first, there’s no answer. there’s nothing that is spoken, not even a bit of body language to be read. he’s still, holding like a statue where he’s at in the kitchen. there’s no lights, only a bit of milk poured into a glass somewhere on the counter, the last inch or so of it a gleaming white against the backdrop of the otherwise darkened room. a gun sits on the table in front of him, out of his own reach, placed there out of a habit as his breathing remains stable. his eyes are fixated on nothing but the way the outside world flickers in and out of view of shaded windows.

         “ … waiting. ” it’s spoken stiffly. STIFF, rigid in a way only a soldier would answer. his muscles are tense, shoulders curling, and he still doesn’t move. he’s hardly aware of what’s happening either, as lost as he is. “ — is there a mission? ” he questions almost childishly, and it’s more than apparent what he’s done to himself. that he’s subverted himself into what he once was, just to keep himself calm from what is likely a panic he’d had earlier.