Headcanon: When Party Poison and Kobra Kid die, because of their devotion to the Zones and spiritual connections, they take the Phoenix Witch’s place and shepherd souls to the afterlife. Poison collects souls during the day and is associated with the sun, while Kobra collects souls during the night and is associated with the moon. Some say that just before dawn, you can see them wandering the plains together.
I don’t have a great visualization for this, but I imagine them having tribal outfits like the Witch. Poison wears a deer skull that covers the top half of his face, and Kobra wears a goat’s. People paint altars/holy places with plant-made dyes and leave out small toys for them.
Headcanon: Since infertility is an issue both in Battery City and the Zones, having siblings is a big deal. Everyone in the city was impressed that Poison and Kobra’s parents had two children, especially only a few years apart. As a kid, Poison heard a lot of people talk about how special his brother was. He wasn’t sure why, but he just assumed it was true.
>> oops sorry this probably isn’t what we all had in mind but I really wanted to write this please bear with this or send in another one if you want! The alternative was Kaito winning the track and field race on sports day = 3 =
“There he is—“
Saguru doesn’t need to be told twice, shoving his phone into his pocket and running on ahead. Behind him, he can hear Hattori shouting for him to wait, yelling something about it being dangerous, that backup is arriving soon, and it only spurs him on faster, leaping over the railings down into the muck of the river bank. His shoes sink into the mud immediately with a loud squelch, Saguru gagging at the thick smell of rotting, putrefying fish and organic matter underfoot, but then he sees the bedraggled, staggering figure in the distance and nothing matters more than getting over there to where he is, the stretching metres in between them a source of annoyance, an inconvenience.
As he nears, he can see that KID’s suit is no longer pristine, the white of it soiled and bogged down with mud and what seems to be blood in thick smears that goes over his clothes onto his skin. Ten paces away, KID stumbles, tripped by a stray branch or some odd debris in the mud, and Saguru shouts, prompting him to look up, surprise flashing sharp and bright across his young face.
“There you are,” KID says, exhaustion writ in the way he holds himself, knees sunk deep into the rotting wet and hat missing. There’s blood, streaking across his pale face and down his neck, and Saguru is taken aback by how vicious and white-hot his anger flares at the sight of KID’s right arm, held tight and close to himself and bent at an odd angle. “Detective Hakuba.”
“You’re hurt.” He can barely hear anything over the sound of his pounding, rabbit heart in his ears, not the sound of splashing and shouting drawing closer by the minute, KID’s laughter like smoke spreading in the small space they have in between them.
“Yes,” KID says. “But look.”
He holds out something in his fist for Saguru to take. Saguru doesn’t want to look away from how bright and cutting KID’s grin is, how his eyes are still fiercely bright beneath the thick layer of mud and blood and pain he wears with such familiarity, but KID wants him to look, so reluctantly, he holds out his hand. Carefully, KID presses half a shard of metal into the palm of his hand, one half of the missing crest they had all been looking for to cinch the case. When he looks up again, the smile on KID’s face is all Kaito, young and fierce and triumphant.
“Case closed,” he says.
“KID!” A hand closes tight over Saguru’s shoulder, KID’s attention immediately shifting towards Hattori. “Did you get it? Are you alright? What happened to the car?”
“Detective Hakuba is holding onto it as we speak. Not that I’m unappreciative of the crowd, but I fancy not being arrested after such a trying day.” KID shifts, as though to stand up, Hattori immediately realising he’s stepping on a corner of his tattered cape and backing off with an apology. “If you could—“
Saguru thinks that if he had allowed KID to finish his sentence, it would probably have been KID bidding his goodbyes, or a request for the gathered detectives to kindly leave him alone. Whichever it is, before KID manages to finish, Saguru had reached out with his trembling hands and grabbed a hold of the thief, bodily hauling him up for a kiss.
Behind him, he hears someone gasps, someone else muttering a low “Really?”, but Saguru cannot bring himself to care about the kind of damage he’s doing to his reputation, his own standing. The kiss is hungry, wild, the kind that goes unchecked and guts him messily. Saguru presses on forward when KID gasps, the hand on his waist tightening as he licks into KID’s mouth, KID leaning into him even as he shivers, cold and wet and injured. Unexpectedly, there’s a sharp pain on his bottom lip, and then KID’s grinning unrepentantly at him with the taste of blood on his tongue when he jerks back, hissing.
“Rude,” KID says, voice pitched low even as Hattori mutters something to Kudou. “I’m still waiting for your long overdue confession to me.”
“In due time,” Saguru says, prompting a fond smile from him. “Leave the rest to me. I’m going to have a stern word with Kudou.”
“Don’t be too harsh on my cousin.” KID slants a look over his shoulder, then takes a step back, Saguru’s hands closing on empty air, the wind rushing in cold back in between. “Don’t keep me waiting, meitantei.”
Hattori looks extremely awkward when Saguru turns back to him, Kudou watching KID leave with a knowing look on his face, both of them as mud splattered as Saguru is.
“You can—leave it to us, if you want,” Hattori says, balking when Saguru turns the full force of his glare onto him. “Look, if there’s something you want to say, spit it out. Like if you might want to clarify on all the details of the case you didn’t share with the rest of us, because we’re gonna need something if we have to cover up for you and it ain’t easy when you’ve been kissing him.”
“Just go,” Kudou says firmly, taking the evidence from Saguru with a handkerchief and bagging it. “I’ll take care of it. If you dither any longer, the police are going to catch up and you won’t be able to leave.”
“You are still going to hear about this,” Saguru warns, the pull of KID’s departure harder and harder to ignore in him. “I’m still going to have words with you.”
Kudou shakes his head, smiling, the black cluster of the policemen converging like locusts down towards them in the far distance. “Go.”
Cherri is a v compassionate friend, whenever he sees one of his friends sad he knows just how to cheer them up.
Kobra likes to bring Tommy cool rocks and animal bones he finds in the
zones. Tommy keeps them and sells them to ‘joys with kids.
Sometimes the fab four have to stop at Dr D’s place because
they’ve been running all day and they’re too tired to drive the full way
back. Cherri often comes home to a pile of sleepy killjoys, so he
always makes sure they have enough blankets 😊❤
While Kobra was going through a rough patch of depression the
fab four received an anonymous bag of food and cigarettes and supplies,
with a note explaining that it was “to help them out a bit”. Tommy
swears it wasn’t him (but it totally was)
Show Pony has an ENTIRE PLAYLIST of songs with “cherry” in the title that they love to harass Cherri with (submitted by @pyro-pixie)
He’s lost count now, how many times Kaito had been easily accommodating whenever he’d been a little handsy, a little clingy. Sometimes it happens when Kaito is doing nothing more than playing a game, sometimes when he’d been a bit more busy.
Each time had usually ended with Saguru on his back gasping Kaito’s name like it’s a prayer and a revelation rolled into one, his lover astride his lap skin slick with sweat and cum and wearing the devil’s smile on his lips.
It isn’t that Saguru doesn’t try - is there a sort of timing for it that he hasn’t yet grasped, is he not good enough (though Kaito has agreed to date him, he can’t be not good enough, this he knows at least)? If there’s something, a reason as to why Kaito always shifts back so Saguru’s arms are loose around him, or why he is always looking absent when Saguru sneaks a hand under his clothes, teasing, Saguru would very much like to know.
He hates not reciprocating.
“You’re looking awfully frowny,” Kaito says, leaning over the back of the sofa to wrap arms around his shoulders, pecking a kiss to his cheek before peering at what Saguru has up on his computer screen. “What’s up?”
He thinks of the way Kaito looks apologetic, half shrouded in the dark of the city night, thin blanket tightly clutched in one hand and covering most of him.
“Work, obviously,” Saguru says.
He tries, and by god (or his grandmother’s ear-burning, solid advice), he does try. Each time, he’s left with an excuse, a compromise, Kaito curled up warm in his arms but not the way that he wants it. Saguru presses his mouth to the warm skin of Kaito’s neck, and lowly:
“Why do you always leave me?”
In his arms, Kaito doesn’t move, but pressed chest to ankle as they are, Saguru can feel the way the muscles in his stomach tightens ever so slightly, ankles twitching.
“It’s okay,” Saguru murmurs, softly, rubbing a hand reassuringly along his side. “I still love you either way. I just wish - ”
Kaito doesn’t say a thing.
It all comes to a head in May, on a sunny Tuesday when Saguru is left standing by the foot of their bed, Kaito buttoning up his shirt once more before the mirror, hair just a touch messier than before.
“I don’t understand.” As much as he tries (to be patient , to be good, to be a man worthy of Kaito’s love), Saguru can’t keep the hurt from his voice.
“It’s just - it’s not you.” Kaito’s voice is a half pitch higher than usual, Saguru watching his reflection knot his tie up into a half winsor. “It’s me.”
Classic sentences to end a relationship.
“I’m just not who you think you love. Sometimes.”
Kaito smooths a hand down his slacks, then leaves the room with his head bowed and shoulders hunched with shame.
Saguru doesn’t ask again. None of them bring it up or speak about it, but it lurks in the inch of space between them when they sit on the couch, the way Kaito whispers goodnight when Saguru goes to bed first and he thinks he’s asleep. Kaito grows a little paler, thinner, and Saguru picks up the little quirks of his behavior over the days. The way he doesn’t look at the mirror in days, or talks too much about some odd interest he has but wistfully, firmly says he won’t pursue it.
Saguru sleeps on it, and finally leaves an internet printout on their bed.
He’s back from work, shuffling into their living room, shedding his jacket and the work-related stress as he goes, and Kaito is sitting rigidly before their dark telly, hands clasped together between his knees and staring straight ahead, eyes unseeing.
“I never knew there was a name for it,” he says, quietly, hoarsely, and Saguru crosses the few steps separating them to hold him before he could fall apart. “I thought it was - ”