Work Text:
It was mid-day, and Poe was just getting back to his mansion after taking a stroll in the park.
Earlier that morning, Poe had been having a bit of trouble with a novella he was attempting to write. The burgundy haired, 22 year old man, doesn't tend to suffer from lack of motivation, but when he does he has found that going for a walk in his favorite park can really help him get into the writing mood, and considering this idea of a story had been marinating in his head for a few days now, but he just couldn't seem to fully capture his thoughts in ink, he decided going for one of these walks would be the best thing to help him.
So, Poe eventually got to the park, and then began walking through it for about 30 minutes or so, long enough to where he felt his brain would explode if he didn't turn these ideas of tale into a physical item.
The tall, slender man began to dart home, needing to get these glorious thoughts from his mind, to his fingers, and finally rested on a piece of parchment. This would be his best work yet, he thought to himself. It would take his rival, Ranpo, days to get through it, and the ending would surely shock him.
Poe dreamt to create a piece of fiction that had a conclusion Ranpo didn't see right from the beginning, that was his goal in life, to be a step ahead of Ranpo, even if it was just once. He had vowed that he would get his revenge against Ranpo, and this novella would give the burgundy haired man just that.
The two front doors of the tall man's mansion flung open as he dashed inside, almost tripping over one of his many statues he collected as decoration, needing to get to his desk and begin writing immediately. In Poe's rush, he forgot one important thing - to close the doors that he nearly broke off of their hinges.
As he ran up a flight of stairs, and through a long hallway, he had gotten a feeling that something odd was happening below him, but never mind that now, he thought, this has much more priority than his overthinking. Poe entered his study, out of breath from all the running, and sat down in his emerald green, suede chair, that was settled at his wooden desk he used to write the majority of his stories at.
The desk wasn't very tidy, balled up pieces of parchment and broken quills cluttered it, and there were a few ink stains on it as well, presumably from all the times a bottle had been tipped over in a rush to get his quill back to parchment. This desk of his held many memories of a tremendous amount of novelettes, and is bound to gain many more.
Poe hastily pushed things that were on the middle of his desk to the side, and, not so gracefully, spread out some parchment. He grabbed a quill from the maroon cup he used to store the variety of them, and dipped the feather into a vial of black ink.
As the pen hit parchment, it was as if fireworks went off in his brain. The pale man, so passionate about his writing, in that moment was able to, figuratively, travel into the world that the story he is in control of takes place in, welcomed by the fact he can turn this into anything he wants. Poe was determined to turn it into the thing that gets him his well deserved vengeance against the short, emerald eyed man that he hates oh, so dearly.
The burgundy haired man had been writing up a storm for a hour now, and went to dip his quill into ink once more, when he suddenly could have sworn he heard a rustling of some sort outside of his study. Whatever, he thought, it's probably just… the wind?
"No, that doesn't make sense, all of my windows should be closed." Poe muttered to himself, gingerly setting his quill down, first tapping off some of the dark ink pooling at the bottom of it back into the vial, as to not waste a drop of the liquid gold that allowed him to get all his marvelous thoughts out of his head.
It's not like Poe doesn't have the money to go buy more ink, in fact he has the money to buy one hundred bottles of the stuff if he so wished; it's more so the fact he rather not leave his mansion unless necessary.
The slender man can get quite uncomfortable when having to be at a store. The thought of having to make awkward small talk with a stranger as they ring up all the items he is purchasing, the idea that said stranger could be silently judging his taste of fashion, the foods he savors, his preferred brands of parchment and ink… it all really ruffled his feathers, as you could say.
Poe stretched his arms and cracked his back, then he slowly got out of his suede seat, and lazily started walking out of his study. The rustling at this point has stopped, but by now the ravenette's stomach began to growl, so he decided to head down to his kitchen and make himself a late lunch.
When he arrived at the steps and was about to go down them, Poe heard that strange rustling noise. It sounded like someone opening a chip bag, or at least attempting to, anyway.
"Um… is someone here?" Poe said aloud, placing his hand on the stairs railing and taking a step. The ghostly man began to be quite put off by this crinkly noise. The noise stopped when he asked this question though, and he chalked it up to a roach in one of his garbage cans.
Poe walked down the steps and into the kitchen, then looked in the fridge and took out the contents to make a sandwich. He then grabbed his loaf of bread and sat everything on the kitchen table. As he untied the twist tie keeping the bag that the bread loaf was stored in closed, the lanky man realized he hadn't washed his hands.
With a sigh, Poe made his way back up the stairs. He didn't have to go back up stairs to wash his hands, as he has a sink in the kitchen and another bathroom on the first floor as well, but Poe prefers his bathroom on the second floor. It's bigger, and there's better control of the temperature of the water in there.
Plus, the tile is different from the tile in the bathroom down stairs, and it's more comfortable against his bare feet. The kitchen has a wooden floor, and he prefers the texture of tile under his feet, but the tile can't be too cold or else he is just uncomfortable.
The pale man reached the top of the steps, and could once again hear that irritating noise. He went towards the bathroom, and realized the door was cracked open… he had closed the door that morning when he exited the bathroom. Strange.
Poe stepped closer to the bathroom, and realized that the annoying noise was coming from the room. "What in the world..." He asked under his breath, a bit of worry in his tone.
As the slender man got to the semi opened bathroom door, he flicked the light on, and heard the crinkly noise stop. He walked into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him, and turned on the sinks cold water, following the hot. Poe reached for his foaming soap and went to pump some into his hand, when he felt the cabinet door under the sink slightly move.
Poe pushed his burgundy side bangs out of his face, and bent over, putting his hand to the white cabinet's golden handle, and held his breath as he opened the cabinet.
When he opened the cabinet, he was shocked when he was met face to face with… a baby raccoon? And, oh, how embarrassing, the burgundy haired man thought as he saw that the kit under his sink was holding a ripped up pad. It seems the crinkly noise he had been hearing was caused by this raccoon attempting to open said pad, but then getting aggravated and ripping the hygiene product up.
As Poe stood there, unsure how to react, the small raccoon dashed out of the cabinet, dropping the pad, and ran towards the bathroom door. It began scratching at the door, attempting to get free, but then dashing to the other side of the bathroom, going face first into the side of the tub. Poe let out a shocked laugh watching the kit as it fell backwards, dramatically.
While the baby raccoon was on its back, the lanky man gently grabbed it, and slowly began to scratch in between its ears.
"Hello, little one. Is it your time of the month? All you had to do was ask for something, I would have given it to you."
Poe let out a chuckle at his own joke, trying to get over his embarrassment. The slender man, still holding the raccoon, walked back down the stairs, towards his front door, and set the kit onto the ground.
"Go on now, head back to your mother." Poe sighed, expecting the raccoon to run out the still open front doors. Instead, the raccoon turned to face the man, and began climbing up his pants. He let out a small gasp, not expecting that the raccoon would do this. The raccoon reached the man's shoulder, and then snuggled up into the nook between his shoulder and neck.
Poe stood there, for a moment, before gently placing one hand on the baby raccoon, and using his free hand to close the two doors.
The ghostly man let out a small sigh, and walked into his living room. He slowly sat down on his sofa, then layed down, his head on one arm of the maroon, suede sofa, and his lower legs dangling off of the other arm. He then, gently, moved the kit from the crook of his neck to on top of his chest, watching it curl up into a ball.
"It's nap time, huh? Ok… I assume the sandwich supplies will be alright, even if they are out of the fridge for a while." Poe whispered to the now nearly asleep raccoon. He watched as it slowly rose and fell with the motions of his own chest. "I never imagined I'd have a pet raccoon. What shall I call you?" The, now tired, man asked himself, his voice almost inaudible.
The slender man thought for a moment, it must be a good, respectable name, he thought to himself. A name that demands respect…
"I shall call you Karl."
Poe smiled at Karl, slowly petting the kit, before falling asleep himself, his hand still on the raccoon.
END.