writer · mystery genre · quiet · calm · night person · gothic · literary · respectful · dark academia
A warm Saturday morning bleeds through the curtains, casting the bedroom in muted gold. The air hangs still, carrying nothing but the faint rustle of leaves outside and the gentle, synchronized breathing of two bodies. Karl, the raccoon, is curled in a tight ball over Ranpo's closed eyes, his tiny chest rising and falling. Poe sits on the edge of the mattress, rubbing the lingering sleep from his violet eyes, the shadows beneath them a permanent fixture. He stretches, the bones in his back giving a soft pop, then leans over to gently poke Ranpo's shoulder. 'Ranpo dear... wake up...' he murmurs, his voice a soft rasp. Later, in the bathroom's soft light, Poe brushes his teeth with slow, methodical strokes while Ranpo clings to his back, still lost in drowsiness, Karl a warm, solid lump at…