Here is the sneak peak of my submission for the Cursed Moons: @meroniazine! The story will be accompanied by phenomenal art provided by the absolutely lovely Ivi (Ivibugg on Insta)
This Zine is set to be published in only two days!
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âIâve got a case for you.â Mello says quietly. From where heâs sitting on his own at their dining room table he readjusts the morning newspaper in his hands, a lightly steaming mug of earl gray tea and plate of half eaten eggs utterly forgotten between where his elbows were propped on the tabletop.
âA case?â Near remarks from his spot on the floor nearby, his tone ticking upward with just the slightest hint of interest.
âYeahâŠâ Azure eyes scan the headline once more: Urgent Manhunt Underway⊠He can feel the way Nearâs eyes slide up to him from his toys, full of silent questions and confusion. Never had Mello asked the younger detective to take a case of his choosing. And why should he? Near had the entire force of the worldâs police agencies behind him, but Mello had the beck and call of every sector of the worldâs underworld at his fingertips. What could Mello ever possibly ask of Near that he couldnât track down uncover for himself?
âŠfind suspect in shooting of 5 homeless men⊠Melloâs features are somber as he finishes the headline and lets his gaze slide down to the lead: Five shootings targeting sleeping homeless men in New York City were carried out by a single suspect. A familiar sting of ice touches his fingertips, seeping ever upward through the digits to his hands until he had only to grasp the paper tighter to fight off its encroachment. The bristling wind whips through empty, slumbering city streets screaming past his ears, lashing at the back of his neck.
âYou need money?âThe rough voice of a man suddenly whispers beside the blondeâs ear. Mello could hear the conniving glint in the manâs eye through only the sick, humorous tinge laden in his gruff voice.
âWhat do you need?â Nearâs voice comes out lower, determined. Mello has his full attention, now, yet his ever-present inquisitiveness lingers like a shadow behind his person.
A single momentâs pause extends between them, a pensive silence between the two successors before Near finally takes charge to break it. He moves from his secure spot surrounded by his own toys to venture out across the expanse to Melloâs isolated island.
Mello folds the newspaper in half, tossing it to the wood tabletop as Near comes to stand before him. âThis.â The reply is muttered so simply, and so certain. But thereâs a heat of annoyance in him, too. Blue eyes are trail up Nearâs being, watching and gauging him.
Gray eyes, dark as the ink printed upon the paper, scan the article which had so intently held Melloâs attention; his features betray absolutely nothing to the blonde. Slender, pale fingers reach out to gently trail over the words, giving just the slightest hint at the path the detectiveâs mind is taking in absorbing the information. âThis?â Near suddenly asks. âWhy would this be of any interest to me?â
âIâve got something you could doâŠâ The gruff voice whispers in Melloâs ear. âIf moneyâs really all you need. What are you willing to do for it?â The man chuckles, and suddenly the mix of icy air reminds Mello of just how frigid the streets had been, while the warmth from this manâs breath toyed with a new kind of hell⊠He smells the alcohol lingering on the manâs breath, and the gunpowder burned into his skin⊠Bile bubbles in Melloâs stomach, working its way up his throat.
âTake it.â Mello forces out, his stare cemented on nothing but Near. The detectiveâs presence existed as the single entity connecting him to any semblance of reality while the printed words of the article strove the drag him back to all those years ago⊠To the nightmares heâd endured on those same city streets.
Nearâs expression shifts momentarily upward to Mello before again refocusing down to the newspaper page, trying to see through the words to what exactly Mello was seeing in it. But he couldnât⊠heâd never be able to understand what Mello saw, and Mello wasnât sure he could ever formulate the words to explain it to him, either.
Nearâs brows knit eventually together in confusion, âThis isnât the type of case that L would get involved in.â Dark eyes slide back to the blonde, âIf Iâm being honest, Mello, this seems far more like something your realm would be interested in.â His words were quiet, careful with the delicate blonde in front of him, and likewise ever conscientious not to cause any unnecessary damage to the pieces of the puzzle Mello had suddenly laid out before him to solve.
Near was right. It was far more within the realm of the criminal underworld to be concerned with the happenings of people without homes. But, âThereâs not that kind of time.â Melloâs words are tight as they exit his lips, far more so than he would have otherwise meant for them to be. Then, he leans forward, tapping hard on the table, âThe police are already involved, thereâs already evidence, suspect images.â All things Near could easily get access to. If he wanted to. Why did any of this case need to be a manhunt when with Lâs technology and Nearâs mind the murderer could be caught in record time? Before anyone elseâŠ
âThe Mafia-â
âIâm not asking the Mafia, Near, Iâm asking youâŠâ Mello cut in. âThese are⊠people.â He cuts himself off before his words get the better of him. It is perfectly within his nature to let his feelings get in the way, to let his heart step in and say more than he objectively needs to, or should.
Arguably, Near was the only person on Earth who deserved to hear him say it⊠to extrapolate on his own experiences on the same streets where people were now being murdered while they slept. But saying any of it didnât always mean that Near would understand⊠How could he? How could the chosen descendant of justice ever understand the constant war of the street or why heâd still feel connected to it despite how different things were now? And yet⊠âIf L is truly justice, then he should be looking out for people, especially for those who already have nothing. It canât just be about the cases that interest him.â The way Nearâs eyes narrowed spoke of his internal protest to such an assertion. âWho looks out for the people who are forgotten? ⊠Other than themselves.â
âMan, if you donât leave him alone!â Another voice appeared in Melloâs opposite ear, âLook, heâs just a kid! If youâre gonna fuck with someone, itâs not going to be a kid. Thatâs fucked upâŠâ The presence of the first man, with his gruff, predatory voice and stench of alcohol was slowly beginning to dissipate. âC'mon, kid. What are you doing out here? Itâs freezing⊠You run away from home or somethinâ?â A heaviness was draped over his shoulders, warmth against the bracing wind, âCome on, your parents canât be worse than the streetsâŠâ Then lower, heâd added, âThese streets will eat you alive⊠Theyâre no place for a kid like you to be.â
Soft, warm hands cupping his face suddenly pull Mello back to himself, and to their present moment, the flakes of snow that had surrounded his head and the voice of the man who had saved him that night receding back.
Now, there was no one but Near standing in front of him, concern written into his every feature. âWhat is this to you?â He whispered to him quietly, unable to read for himself past the careful construction of Melloâs façade. When he didnât immediately answer, Near added, âWill solving this case help in assuaging your demons?â
Melloâs eyes closed, surrounded not by the ice and fear heâd known then, but instead by the warmth of Nearâs hands on his cheeks. He melted into the other, kissing his soft, secure palms. âNo⊠it wonât.â He muttered against him. âTake the case. Not because Iâm asking you to⊠But because the fates of these people are not what you would have wanted to see for me, were I still in their place.â His surprise could be read in only the subtle tensing of Nearâs muscles against his lips. âTake the case. Show me what the power of L can really do.â This time, when azure orbs slid open, they smoldered with the embers of a newfound challenge.
A directory to where else you can find me, my Meronica fanfics, as well as a (hopefully) comprehensive list of the pieces that Iâve published to Tumblr and Twitter over the years. If you happen to know of any piece that I left off, please let me know so I can add them!Â
Directory
Twitter: @forbiddensoul56Â
AO3: Forbiddensoul562
Fanfiction.net: Forbiddensoul562
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Started: Sept. 9, 2021
Last Update: May 1, 2023
Access the free Meronia Zine
(Checkout my collab piece starting on pg 90)
Cursed Moons: A Meronia Fanzine vol 1
(Ask-based) Minific Prompts
Mello calls Matt over to help bake Near a birthday cake
Near researching sex, Mello discovers his search history - NSFWÂ
Melloâs zipper pants getting in the way... - slightly NSFW
Bad breakup
Mello joining Near in the bath
âFancy seeing you here, acting like you werenât expecting me at all.â
Choosing and adopting a pet
âIs it supposed to look like that?â
âWhat am I doing wrong?â
Near finds a human head in their closet
Gets lost in IKEA
âI may have accidentally said something and now my whole family kind of thinks weâre dating. Oops.â
âIs there any part of you that isnât bruised?â
Finding the other wearing their clothes
Having their hair washed by the other
âDid you just go throw up?â and âCan you hear me?â
âIâm alive... I can tell because of the painâ
Mello becomes sick
Near becomes sick
Near gives Mello chocolate
Mourning Mattâs death
âI love youâ
Everything about him was... lovable
Watching Near sleep
Feelings of loneliness
(Self-Created) Prompts
âYou know, thatâs the first time youâve said you loved me.â
10 Sentence Fic: First kiss
Itâs Just A Game - NSFW
Asking Near to take a case
Untitled Goose Game Near
Based on other fics
From The Art of Isolation/The Topology of Compassion
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@meroniaeventâ Themes included: Tea, Kiss, Morning, Bye, Ice, Home
(Bingo card is at the end of the post)
This idea and submission sounded much better in my head, I swear...Â
I also did not have the patience to edit this because I was so disgusted, so please be gentle with it
The gentle chiming of Nearâs alarm from his phone rang at exactly 5:00am. Far too early than either occupant of the room would have preferred, verbalized at once by the grunt of displeasure from the far side of the bed and the rustling of thick, warm blankets.
Before gray eyes even opened his hand reached out and dismissed the alarm, casting the room back into its residual, peaceful silence. He gently hummed, allowing for only the briefest of moments to pass where he could stay beneath the sheets, warmed by not only them, but the presence beside him.
Mello was a furnace when he slept⊠as though the walls guarding the world from the first of his own ambition during the day were lowered in his unconscious state. It was familiar, comforting, wholly different from the cool sheets Near had fallen asleep beneath the night before.
He turned on his side towards the middle of the bed, reaching out through the darkness to find a golden thread of Melloâs hair. Beneath his touch he could feel the older successor relax. âWhen did you get home last night?â Near whispered to the air, weight just how likely it was that Mello would even deign to answer such a question.
Working in such polar spheres of the justice system necessitated a bit of secrecy of eachâs actions⊠It was not that each didnât believe the other couldnât hold the weight of their daily actions. It was more like an armor of protection against the threats wrought by the outside world. Someday they would need to broach it all⊠but each day Near awoke hoping that that day would not be it.
âLate.â Melloâs rough voice grumbled back in response. âWere already asleep.â From the sound of it, the older blonde would be asleep once more were Near to let him.
âShould have woken me up, dear Mello.â Near mumbled to him as he spun a lock of hair around his finger.
âNo.â Mello said definitively, even in his drowsy state. He shifted, turning to lie on his back, âYou were tired. If you didnât wake when I get in bed, youâre exhausted.â He had a point⊠but if only he realized that part of what made Near exhausted was due to the time he spent worried over the blondeâs well-being.
Near gently hummed, leaning in and pressing a kiss to Melloâs temple. âItâs still very early. Sleep a bit longer.â There was no need to venture back out into the cruelty of the world so soon.
In response, Mello turned on his side again, towards the younger successor, then shifted a bit closer to him. âOught to just call me out of work.â
Nearâs lips pulled upwards, his fingers more completely threading through Melloâs hair. âGladly, dear Mello. Simply tell me who to call⊠Some names and phone numbers should suffice well enough.â
Finally, icy blue eyes dared to open halfway merely to glare at the detective before closing again. âYou know I canât do thatâŠâ But oh how Near wished he could⊠Were Mello to give him just a bit more information⊠some names, phone numbers or even some vague idea of where Mello even reported every day, he could have the Mafia whereabouts snuffed out completely. It wouldnât free Mello from the shackles of their organization⊠but at least it could buy him some breathing time.
âI know.â He sighed, carding his fingers through the soft locks. âI knowâŠâ SomedayâŠ
Near gave himself just a few moments longer to stay next to the blonde, cherishing their shared moment of peace before returning to the controlled chaos of their lives. Each morning Near tried to take a second to appreciate such calm moments. Anything could happen throughout the hours of the day⊠Anything could cause these times to be ripped away from them.
This was their reality; this was the existence they chose to reside in. And what could Near really do to change that right now? If he pushed too hard, it would cause Mello to move away from him. There was a delicate balance between executing his own will, and granting Mello the freedom to make his own choicesâŠ
He finally pulled away from the blonde, pulling the blankets back and meeting the cool air of their penthouse bedroom. In front of him, the wide windows looked out at the rest of the New York cityscape. âItâs snowingâŠâ He murmured to the darkness, watching the white flakes peacefully fall from the heavens. When they were younger, he didnât at all care for winter⊠the ice, slush, the unending jokes comparing him to the frozen precipitation. But now, he could appreciate the way it seemed to slow the world downâŠ
He pushed himself up, proceeding through his morning routines. First, a hot shower to relax his muscles wound tight in knots from the residual worry in the back of his mind. Next, he would go across the living space to the second bedroom in their home, where he had a makeshift investigation room set up. The computers and televisions whirring to life brought a mechanical type of life to the otherwise frozen space. He took out a few toys, and flipped through some of the evidence files heâd brought with him. A wry smile crossed his features as he looked over the words without really reading them. Were Mello to see the papers, heâd chastise him about bringing work home. They each had their individual secrets, he supposed.
On any other day, working on cases would be where his morning would begin, and indeed his thoughts were already bubbling to begin. But his heart was stuck in the other room⊠back in bed with Mello, wanting to press him for just a bit more information. What about whatever task heâd been tasked with had caused him to need to be out so late? What was he feeling about the job? But those werenât the kinds of questions Mello was willing to answer, and so Near wasnât willing to rustle the peace of the morning to ask.
Instead, he decided to take another approach.
Going into the kitchen, Near rustled through the cabinets, locating a seldom used electric kettle. He plugged it into a wall outlet and took the kettle to the sink to clean out. As he filled it with fresh water, he heard the sound of the water for the shower turn on. Gray eyes flicked over to the clock on the wall. âNot even six yetâŠâ Which meant Mello wasnât deciding to stay home longer, or even take the morning off after the strenuous night previously. âThings must be rough for the Mafia right now.â His eyes narrowed on the door leading to their room. âWhat exactly is going on?â He made a note to do a bit of investigating into the matter⊠His resources and contacts were slim, in that realm of the criminal underworld. But perhaps he could figure something out.
He flicked the kettle on to boil, then went to the cabinet to find a thermos, and some tea they had stashed away for when one of them got sick. âA good, black tea⊠Earl Grey.â His lips ticked up in a small smile. One of the most popular teas in England. A harkening to a much different, simpler time for both of them⊠Even if Mello wasnât so quick to agree.
But then, there was a problem, Near realized as he set a tea packet in the thermos. How, exactly, did Mello prefer his tea? When he was sick, he added honey and lemon⊠But when he was well⊠Nearâs lips pulled into a thin line as he looked around the kitchen. âSugar.â Of course⊠He grabbed their container of sugar and a spoon.
One spoonfulâŠ
TwoâŠ
ThreeâŠ
FourâŠ
One more couldnât hurt for someone who was so obsessed with consuming chocolate, right?Â
Perfect
Now, what about milk? Mello certainly liked milk chocolate, so would he want a creamier kind of tea, as well? Near shook his head, deciding against it⊠the idea of combining milk with the scalding, boiling water as well as sugar turned his stomach. Although, he couldnât shake the feeling that perhaps he was incorrect⊠So, he pulled the milk carton from the fridge and set it beside the kettle. Just in caseâŠ
It was about twenty minutes later when the door to their bedroom was pulled further open and Mello appeared, his expression solemn as he adjusted his vest on his shoulders. Nearâs brow furrowed, âMello, itâs freezing outsideâŠâ He chided quietly, knowing in the back of his head that nothing he said would really change the blondeâs mind. He glanced to the kettle of boiled water. It may get some more use soon enough, if Mello continued to wear such inappropriate clothing for the weather.
âIâll have a jacket, itâll be fine.â
âCertainly not a day to be taking your motorcycle.â Near added. âThere will be ice on the roads, anyway.â It was a quiet request for Mello to heed his warning and make the choice to further keep himself safe.
Blue eyes rolled, âYou donât even drive, but youâŠâ He paused as he looked at the younger successor who still stood in the kitchen. âWhat are you doing?â He asked, suspicion dripping from his words, and his gaze investigating every subtle clue the detective could be giving off.
Near turned to where heâd gathered everything for the tea, âIâm justâŠâ He pulled the kettle off the stand, carefully pouring it into the thermos, making sure the string from the tea packet stayed hanging over the edge. âI made tea.â Theyâd been living together for months, and yet Mello had such a way of speaking to him in such a manner that cut him down to every nervous, sensitive instinct he harbored deep within himself. âItâs in a thermos. Something you can take with you.â
Mello rounded the space, standing in the entrance to the open kitchen, âTea?â
âItâs freezing outside.â Near repeated once more, taking a spoon and stirring the boiled water to mix the tea and sugar together before placing the cap on it. âItâll help keep you warm; keep your body temperature from decreasing as fast while youâre out there, especially if youâre insistent about wearing clothing that exposes you to the elements. Besides, who knows how insulated whatever headquarters the Mafia-â
Nearâs words, quickened and rife with a hidden nervousness, were ceased the moment Mello stepped closer and pressed his lips to the youngerâs. Everything seeped away from Near, in that moment, his worry for the other would always be rooted deeply within his being, but rather than being grown from the waters of his uncertainty, instead Melloâs kiss rained within him a sort of confidence⊠a question of trust in the other to know what he was doing and how to handle what came his way. Near reached out, gently grasping Melloâs sides, using his solid stance to reassure himself in Mello, and even his own abilities.
âYou didnât have to do that.â Mello told him as they parted, their foreheads pressed together gently.
âI did. Who else on this planet could ever look out for you better than I?â
âI can look out for myself.â Mello told him, slowly pulling a bit further away and taking the thermos and cap.
âOf course you can, dear Mello.â Near murmured, a warm contentedness taking over him from their kiss.
He watched as Mello brought the rim of the thermos to his lips, blowing on the contents. âItâs just going to be a few hours.â He assured him. âJust some things I need to clear up⊠it has to be taken care of before I can actually be off for a day.â He shook his head in an obvious frustration with the organization as he finally let himself sip the brown tea. At once, his lips pulled down, âNear, what the fuck? How much sugar did you put in this?â He held the thermos away slightly, âWho the hell lives in England their entire lives and still canât make a simple cup of tea?!â
âI could remake it.â Near told him, even as he watched Mello putting the cap on the top and twisting it shut.
âNo, noâŠâ Mello shook his head once more, exhaling a quick breath and with it the immediacy of his frustration; a quick venting of heat before he could more appropriately handle the situation. âNo, you donât have to do that. This is fine.â
âBut it-â
âItâs fine, I said.â Mello was already pulling away from him, âItâs fine just the way it is. You made it, so Iâm going to drink it.â He told him, leaving no room for questions as he went to the front door of their home, pulling his boots on.
Near reached up to grab a strand of hair. âAlrightâŠâ As he watched him get ready to leave, finalized by pulling his red jacket on and grabbing his keys from a hook next to the door. âJust a few hours.â Near repeated to him.
âMaybe four hours, then Iâll come home⊠It all depends on how long it takes for me to get someone to talk.â
So, an interrogation, then, Near wondered to himself, eyes narrowed on him. âFour hours seems like an over assumption if youâre the one interrogating the person. I suppose, though, that your skills may be getting somewhat rusty.â Mello shot him a glare that didnât quite meet his eyes. âBe safe, Mello.â
âIâm always safe.â Mello assured quieter, stepping in front of Near once more.
âNot as safe as you are when youâre here.â Not as safe as when they were together.
âFour hours.â Mello told him, pressing their foreheads together again. âIf Iâm not home after that, you can start combing the city for me.â
âFine, four hours. Thatâs all Iâm giving you. Go, then, so I can start the timer.â Near told him, pressing his chest as though to push him towards the door, but leaning in momentarily to kiss him before doing so. This time, as Mello left him⊠he was still worried, still concerned that anything might happen. But at least he had something to hold onto, something to focus on while he waited with his breath held. âI love you.â He whispered to the empty space only once the door had clicked closed.