#⭒ ˙ ˖ ✧ — ˗ˏˋ ❝ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ ɪꜱ ᴛᴀʙᴏᴏ; ʙᴜᴛ ɪᴛ’ꜱ ʜᴀʀᴅʟʏ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ɴᴇᴡ ❞ ¦ 「 RP 」

[not-bcring]

✧   「   @wrinkled-sheets-and-sunlight   」   ✧  - Continued from ★  

「 ☆ 」 What happened with Gundham was a one-time mistake... Overly-horny impulse that doesn't count. If one were to ask ❛ count for what? ❜ — which they never would because no one can EVER KNOW —Kazuichi would ( hypothetically ) respond with a curt ❛ everything ❜ . It doesn't count as gay. Gundham had assured him so, insisting Kazuichi's sexually would remain intact. So he merely thinks of it as... not sex but— relief. Maybe even practice, for when he finds a girl he would like to be intimate with.

Granted, Kazuichi had been the submissive one in the encounter... but some girls can be dominant! Although, not exactly what he should be looking for and if he WAS pegged, he'd have to keep that a secret too. For his masculinity's sake. But still... it's plausible. A reason he can turn to whenever his mind screams at him. Asking WHY he offered his virginity to Gundham of all people. Why he felt the urge in the first place. Frankly, it'd be easier to ignore the shame gnawing at his guts if Gundham wouldn't hang around him so much. It's a lot harder to insist their night together meant nothing when it seems to have changed shifted their dynamic.

It almost feels like Gundham is mocking him. Trying to make him feel uncomfortable. Remind him of what they did while still acting as though it never happened. Something Kaz has wanted to call the breeder out on but refrains from. Scared of what it may bring. Unsure if he's more apprehensive of angering the larger man or being proven wrong. A decision that is harder to stick to when he feels Gundham's eyes upon him while he's working. Fervently trying to ignore it, movements are clumsier than usual... Not by much. Not nearly enough to hinder the work of the Ultimate Mechanic, but glaringly obvious to Kazuichi.

Patience wearing thinner by the moment ( tightness in his chest and heat pumping through his veins that nearly makes his head hurt ) , by the time some stranger was bothering Gundham— seriously, did they not notice the breeder's obvious discomfort or did they just not CARE? —Kaz was in no mood for subtlety. However instead of being thanked ( or better yet, the situation ignored completely ) Gundham had the gall to tease taunt him for it. So can Kazuichi be blamed if his response was sort of snippy? Or if he felt the heat in his chest rise to his face in what he chooses to pretend is frustration instead of confusing discomfort.

Tensing bristling as his jumpsuit is toyed with— the echoing memory of its zipper teeth slowly clicking down playing in his mind —Kaz stumbles back a step as if burned from the indirect contact. A weak sound gets caught in his throat, attempting to be a scoff but dangerously-close to a whine. ❝ Why are you here? ❞ Deflecting the question with another, pink hues warily study Gundham like a cornered animal. Lightly fidgeting in place, he toys with the sleeves the other had touched. Grease-stained hands twisting the garish yellow as he spats out against his will, ❝ I fixed your car like- hours ago... What are you still doing here? ❞

Besides watching him like a hawk... Swallowing thickly, he abruptly becomes VERY aware of the feeling of filth on his face. Too far away from any rags he could use, he takes off his beanie and haphazardly wipes at the stains. All he succeeds in doing is smudging the mark and then remembering his shitty hair. Cheeks blossoming a pink to match the messily-cut locks— sticking out at odd angles in a thick and unruly display —he hastily covers them back up, tugging down the garment and not letting go. ❝ If you're just here to— I dunno, laugh at me or something- then... ❞

Then what? Just leave? As if Kaz could enforce that demand... Growling under his breath, gaze averts as he manages to feel even more pathetic. Sweaty and gross and stained by work ( the manual labor of a glorified handyman ) and— ❝ I get it. I'm a mess. I'm a big fucking mess and it's probably soooooo hilarious and you're probably having so much fun watching me do my stupid pointless job— ❞ It's not like being the ❛ Ultimate Breeder ❜ . He's not saving endangered species or taming wild beasts. His work could be tended to by anyone with a decent amount of know-how... At least, that's what Kaz has always told himself. What he can't help but convey to Gundham, words tumbling out in a self-depreciating spiral.

Blinking back tears built up from a week of bottled-up confusion frustration, shoulders hunch and beanie is tugged down as if a shield against being seen as he bitterly spats through a breaking voice, ❝ So sorry we can't ALL be Gundham fucking Tanaka. ❞ Someone important and self-assured and cool and manly and... and with a million better things he could be doing. Places he could be. People he could be with. So why— Why is Gundham here? Why won't Gundham just leave him alone. 「 ☆ 」

[not-bcring]

✩ 「 @nickelsdrocs​ 」 ✩ - Continued from ★

「 ☆ 」 Caught in his clever ruse, Ayumu doesn't even try to deny it. Why should he? His intentions are more than justified, considering how reluctant Daisuke is to share about or even admit the existence of, the unhappiness intertwined in his life. Like silken threads, nearly-invisible but STRONG. Pulling on the other man, preventing him from doing what he wants. Even when Daisuke does allow himself to indulge— Ayumu would consider his mere company a bit of indulgence, since it'd be far less trouble for Daisuke to steer clear of the pink instigator —Ayumu still sees the effects of those strings. Digging into flesh as Daisuke resists, the other man appearing to be holding himself back as well. As if he knows that if he pushes too far, he could be sliced through completely. A scary fate, for anyone to face.

That doesn't deter Ayumu from thinking he SHOULD face it. Whether Daisuke breaks or the strings do, is yet to be seen. Either way, he can't keep existing the way he has been. Bleeding, unseen by others but unmistakably felt. Part of Ayumu insists that he's projecting onto Daisuke. Putting feelings in the chest of his unwitting peer, stirring up problems for someone who doesn't deserve them. All to make himself feel less alone; Ayumu's threads still entangled around his limbs, cutting like razor wire that he's learned to ignore. The pain only registering when he talks to—

But that's neither here nor there.

Daisuke may be able to untangle himself from whatever is holding him back from being his true self. He at least deserves to TRY. If that comes about thanks to a childish game of ❛ Truth or Dare ❜ then so be it. Meeting Daisuke's unimpressed stare with one of his own, he crosses his arms and quirks an unashamed brow. ❝ Well, if you would answer questions without the game, then I wouldn't need to do things like this. ❞ He haughtily retorts, firmly standing by his study-session ruse. Even though he DOES desperately need to make a dent on the pile of homework still languishing on his desk. But finding solutions to those problems are so boring... and not nearly as important as the tight-lipped problem sitting beside him.

Pouting at Daisuke's verbal maneuvering— he should have expected as much —Ayumu rolls his eyes with a scoff, but the playful shove against the other's side and amused smirk tugging at his lips take the sting out of his reaction. ❝ You KNOW that's not what I meant! ❞ Ayumu scolds, laughter lacing the light complaining, ❝ But fine, whatever... I suppose that answer counts. But barely. ❞ Leaning a bit closer, he pokes Daisuke's chest ( half-lidded gaze and purred tone a bit of subtle revenge for ruining his clever ploy ) and teases, ❝ I'll get a real answer out of you next time, just you wait~ ❞

Moving back, he crosses one leg over the other and straightens his back. Spine a bit arched and a hand resting against his chest, he chipperly says, ❝ Alright, now it's my turn. So I'll show you how it's actually done... because I choose truth~ ❞ 「 ☆ 」

[not-bcring]

✩ 「 @nickelsdrocs​ 」 ✩ - Continued from ★

「 ☆ 」 Snickering behind a hand at the stranger's confusion, green hues glitter with intrigue as the ebony-haired man finally realizes what's happening. Wondering how the other feels about the impromptu nickname thrown his way, Ayumu hopes it provides some sort of boost for the guy's ego. He looks like the type who doesn't get many of those. When one flirts as much as Ayumu does, they tend to learn how to spot an asshole. If anything, it doesn't seem to be upsetting the ❛ Big Guy ❜

In Ayumu's defense, nearly everyone is a big guy compared to him.

Peering through long lashes with an intrigued smirk, he makes no attempt to hide the way he studies the man as he walks over. Not a bad view, for sure. Sweat-glistened and confounded by Ayumu's antics... just the way he likes them~ Even though the point of this conversation is to get to the top of the tree, Ayumu spares a moment to imagine what it might be like to climb something else. Lightly nibbling a glossy bottom lip, wandering thoughts shine clearly upon a confidently-cheeky face even as he responds, ❝ Well... You've already noticed the tree. ❞

Gesturing at his body with a flourish of his arm, flirtatious expression falls in favor of something more playful. Tone following suit, it's surprisingly innocent as he laughs, ❝ And you've probably noticed I am not nearly tall enough to scale this thing. Not without help, anyway... That's where you come in. ❞ Pointing at the man with a finger gun, other hand rests on a cocked hip. Hand then motions at the tree behind him, head nodding along with it, ❝ I just need you to get me up to that lower branch and I can handle the rest. ❞

Despite the explanation— if it can even be called that —it's still unclear WHY Ayumu needs to climb that tree. But the smaller male just quirks a brow and teases, ❝ Think you can do that for me, Handsome?~ ❞ 「 ☆ 」

[not-bcring]

With the introduction of beastly power into his blood, Kazuichi had become a cuddle monster towards anyone who would give him the time of day. No one was safe from his incessant whines and pleas for attention, which wasn't truly all that different from how he was before, the werewolf only having grown more open about his desires at how they demand affection with an instinctive itch beneath his skin. Kaz had been clingy before, but now he was a pack animal by nature, the lack of attention even more keenly felt should he go too long without it. Luckily, there were many of his friends who enjoyed cuddles as well, and a few of those were often found sedentary enough for either Kaz to sit in their lap, or them in his while they worked for hours of uninterrupted attention. Caught in the mechanic's trap that day had been none other than a certain little bunny detective, Shuichi hard at work doing....something as he sat on Kaz's lap in the peace and quiet of the detective's room. The wolf had followed his friend back to said room after Shuichi had returned from his work at the local police station, Kaz able to tell by instinct alone that the other man was overworked and needed a break, and what better break then a good snuggle? A break that still hadn't come, what had started as a "quick" look over of papers turning into into even more work. Letting out a sad little whine, Kaz nuzzled his nose at Shuichi's neck, his chin hooking over his shoulder as he gave an impatient twitch of a canine ear. "Shuichiiii, you said you'd take a break hours ago!" Had it actually been hours? Whose to say, but however long it had been, it was far too long for Kaz's liking. "If you don't take a break right now, I'm gonna....um...I'm gonna bite you!!" -  ✩   「 @wrinkled-sheets-and-sunlight 」   ✩  

「 ☆ 」 Pouring over documents that had been graciously bestowed upon him by the other members of his ❛ team ❜, Shuichi is grateful it's only busywork. With the case practically closed, there's merely the issue of crossing some t's and dotting some i's. Ensuring that nothing goes wrong and causes them to trip at the finish line. Either by some gross oversight or, just as probable, sabotage from within. Perhaps that's why it's become almost tradition for the young detective to carefully monitor things once they near their end. Because those in command are aware of how... mistakes can be made when tasks are left to others. Not that those in charge are innocent, but they tend to be smarter with their maliciousness.

Closing cases successfully works in their favor, even if it also works in Shuichi's. They can focus on tarnishing the detective's reputation in a more personal manner, hoping to bring Shuichi down without bringing down the the department itself. Honestly, that's all whitenoise to the detective. As commonplace as the blue sky above or the bugs that skitter below. He can handle people making his life Hell, so long as they keep their conniving hands off those of others.

Exhaustion starting to tug at his limbs, Shuichi brushes it off as per usual. The only difference in the familiar sight is the detective's choice of perch. Would anyone have told him he'd be comfortably settled in a lap ( one of the most anxiety-inducing places there is)— let alone one belonging to a wolf —he never would have believed them. Not one to be at ease around canines, for good reason, it had taken effort on his part to give Kazuichi the chance he KNEW the other deserved. Not wanting natural instincts to prevent him from enjoying the company of someone who seemed genuinely nice and for some strange reason, actually wanted to be around him.

Rather than bare his fangs and tear Shuichi to shreds, Kazuichi has done nothing but approach him with a wagging tail and good intentions... Providing a source of support and sincerity that Shuichi has been starved of. Nose twitching as he studies the stack of papers in his grip, he shifts ever-so-slightly in his seat, resting further against the wolf without even realizing it. Lightly gnawing on the edge of his pencil, his poor companion's whines go barely noticed. Despite never purposely ignoring someone he cares about, being around Kaz is so wrapped in a sense of ❛ ease ❜ that the other has faded into the background. As normal as the papers in his hand and the pencil caught between bucked teeth, Kaz reduced to Shuichi's comfy spot.

Subconsciously angling his head, he lightly nuzzles against Kazuichi even as he emits a distracted hum, gaze not once lifting from his work. ❝ Uh-huh... ❞ He monotonely mutters, shuffling forward a new document to read over. 「 ☆ 」

[not-bcring]

Starter For  -  ✩   「   @magic-clown​​​   」   ✩

「 ☆ 」 Red flows into the river... Slow streaks of scarlet, slipping away to join the gentle rapids. Dainty, diligent, dexterous hands submerged in the cool water; they raise to rub pale arms. Blood both old and new— dried and dark or vibrantly fresh —scrubbed away to trickle into nonexistence. Dripping off the small figure kneeling by, speckling the river like the pinpricks of starlight reflecting above. Gazing into the calm water, Rio mourns the loss of their... extra embellishment.

But blood is hardly something for one to wear in public; lest they wish to draw unwanted attention. Adept as the former-assassin current lost-soul ( or as close as they can get, their chest lacking breath let alone a beating heart ) is at taking care of those who wish to cause them trouble, it's still a burdensome task. It's no fun to look into a lifeless gaze unless they were able to witness the MOMENT the light truly left it. Hasty acts of ❛ necessity ❜ lack the care they prefer to put into their work.

Tonight had been enjoyable... but not enough to ease the newfound ache in their chest as much as they had hoped. It really is a bother, feeling these new emotions. Regret, disgust, shame— yet none of it strong enough to overpower the ever-present anger. The jealously HATRED, now aimed inwardly just as much as at those around them. Lost and confused, all Rio can do is try to distract. Maybe later, they'll know what to do now that they've been proven to be nothing.

But for now? They slowly stand up, still looking down into the water. Expression deceptively blank, yet eyes holding a sharp studiousness— reflecting the night sky with uncanny clarity, as if polished glass —they suddenly pipe up into the crisp air to the strange figure in the distance, the river playing no favorites when it comes to what it reflects, ❝ I know you're back there. ❞ 「 ☆ 」

[not-bcring]

✩   「   @nickelsdrocs​   」   ✩   -   Continued from ★

「 ☆ 」   Ayumu doesn’t have to look at Emi to know she’s not looking... Not that he’s offended. He didn’t record the scenery for her. He didn’t record it for anyone but himself. Still, he’ll likely end up using it in a video; it’s good footage, it could make good b-roll. But right now, its purpose is to help calm him down. Like Emi with her arrows. Not that he’s going to tell Emi that. It’d only get her worked up... and it’s not like anything actually happened. Nothing new, anyway. Simply past memories coming back, as they often tend to do.

It’s not fair... Having to live with what happened. And yet, at the same time- it’s also incredibly fair. Living with the consequences of his choice. But is it really a choice when you’re that young? When the ONE person who was supposed to protect you, is the same person offering you up like a lamb to the slaughter? Lazily scanning his footage, Ayumu shoves those thoughts aside along with the memories. Neither of them will do him any good... and he’d rather not deal with them at all right now. Clicking rewind, he looks at the flowers again.

❝  Yeah, but that’s why I like them...  ❞  Ayumu leisurely replies, not outwardly giving away the internal argument.  ❝  It’s safest when you’re lonely.  ❞  He mutters, not elaborating any further. Where Emi saw a cruel, uncaring world, Ayumu saw a sanctuary. Finding a bittersweet certainty in that nothing would happen if there were no one to do it. People always find ways to hurt. And other people seldom care when they do it... At least, they never have when it comes to him.

Looking at the target, he adds in a louder voice, as if trying to brush past his earlier comment,  ❝  Hey, do you think you can shoot an arrow through that other arrow? Like- split it in half?  ❞     「 ☆ 」 

[not-bcring]

✩   「   @nickelsdrocs​   」   ✩   -   Continued from ★

「 ☆ 」   He needs to be in there. He needs to be in there. He NEEDS to be in there. 

That’s the only thought— the only FEELING —echoing in Shuichi’s mind as he waits the agonizingly-long breath between his shaky request and Seto’s hasty answer. That and the feeling of hands roaming his skin. Ghosts of a touch that had been a living nightmare mere moments ago. Praise still tickling his ears... Breathy. Genuine. Deserved. He deserved what happened to him. He ALWAYS does. Fingers dig deep enough into his sleeves to pick at his skin, threatening to scratch that soft porcelain as a distraction.

❛  Please... Please let me in.... Please don’t make me go.  ❜

Breathing heavily, Shuichi feels his heart claw at his throat, threatening to burst through in a beating bloody mass. He wouldn’t be surprised to see it in a heap on the ground, thrown at Seto’s feet, at the mercy of his boyfriend...  ❛  Please. Please.  ❜  Shaking in the hallway, legs feel weak, Shuichi leaning forward to rest his forehead against the door.  ❛  Please. ❜  A trembling hand raises to rest his palm flat on the door, Shuichi’s breath catching in his suffocated throat at Seto’s voice. Fumbling for the doorknob, he nearly has it turned before he abruptly stops.

❝  Wh-What?  ❞  Thoughts clouded, it takes him a moment to comprehend what it is Seto told him. Grip on the knob tightens, Shuichi considering turning it anyway for one terrifying second, before he slowly, reluctantly lets go. Fingers brushing the smooth metal as they fall down, Shuichi blinking back tears that he KNOWS are stupid to shed. It’s only a few minutes of delay, after all. Enough time for Seto to get dressed and then he can come in. Feeling the adrenaline rush, the thrill of knowing he was about to be in Seto’s arms, fade away to be replaced by a foreboding weight in his stomach, Shuichi weakly says,  ❝  O-Okay...  ❞  

❝  Um, I— I can wait... That’s alright.  ❞  Fighting and losing against the tremor in his tone, Shuichi goes back to hugging himself, now fully resting his weight against Seto’s door, desperate to be close as he possibly can.   「 ☆ 」 

[not-bcring]

✩ 「 @nickelsdrocs​ 」 ✩ - Continued from ★

「 ☆ 」   Ayumu doesn’t know what he did specifically to get sick— honestly there are plenty of things it could be; he hasn’t been the most careful with his health lately —but this feels like retribution for some horrendous sin. Bedridden, by his own orders, Ayumu opting to pout in bed rather than even attempt to move, he groans into his pillow. A terrible decision, coughing violently at the self-scratch to his throat, harsh sounds muffled.

Whining at his own decision, he turns over with a pout, staring at his desk and the ungodly computer set-up atop it. Wishing that he were sitting there and working on some passion project instead of stuck in this stupid bed feeling worthless, he picks up a used tissue from his blanket and throws it at his work area with a huff... A pathetic throw that only results in the tissue floating down to land right next to the bed. Which does NOT help his mood.

Sitting upright with a grumble when his door is knocked on, he runs his hands through his messy hair as if that’ll tame the unruly pink. Despite being red-nosed, tired-eyed, and disheveled, he still doesn’t want to look like a complete wreck. Even if the only people who would enter his room are Emi and Daisuke. Confused gaze flits down to the rice in his boyfriend’s bandaged hands, carefully taking the bowl with a small and fond smile ( grumpy expression having lifted at the sight of his boyfriend )  ❝  Aw... That’s so swee—  ❞  

And then he sneezes... and his day is ruined again.

Attacked by a storm of kitten-like sneezes, Ayumu hastily sets down the bowl onto his bedside dresser, grabbing a tissue and covering his mouth to try and stifle the sound. Wondering what’ll come first, a merciful death or the end of the onslaught, they finally subside... so Ayumu pitifully plops onto his side and covers his head with his blanket, whining a drawn-out—  ❝  Daisuke...  ❞  —as if his boyfriend is supposed to be able to make his cold just- stop.

❝  I’m siiiiiiiick...  ❞  He whimpers, as if that’s new information. Huffing under his makeshift blanket shield, Ayumu curls up on his bed and says,  ❝  Thanks for the rice, but you should probably just go. I’m not good company right now.  ❞  Does he actually WANT Daisuke to leave? Fuck no. But it feels like the thing to say... and maybe part of him wants to hear Daisuke turn down the offer because he wants to take care of him.   「 ☆ 」 

[not-bcring]

✩   「   @from-across-the-stars   」   ✩   -   Continued from ★

「 ☆ 」   Were Kokichi not feeling sick as a dog— in the most literal sense —he’d find the sight of the large man futilely shoving himself partway under the bed hilarious. But right now, he hardly feels like laughing. Hardly feels like doing ANYTHING… and if it didn’t seem like a far-worse fate to get professional help, he wouldn’t be moving around nearly as much as he is. When a human, it’s hardly enjoyable to be sick. But as a canine, it feels as if it somehow grew tenfold. Transforming usually takes some energy out of him but never to this extent, and his instincts never scream THIS loudly for him to obey. Not anymore, at least.

Yet all he wants is to find a dark, isolated corner to crawl into and lie down until he either dies or feels better… Whichever comes first.

Logically, he knows this isn’t an option. And if it were, it’d be a pretty stupid one. But even if the solution isn’t viable, the aches accosting his body are still very much real. An exhaustion tugging at his very bones, growing worse with each swift evasion of Gundham’s grasp. Still, dodge he does. And is determined to do until he physically CAN’T anymore. Fueled by stubbornness and desperation at this point, Kokichi only growls in response to Gundham’s warnings about Charlotte, as if to say—  ❛  I’d like to see her try.  ❜  

Actually, he wouldn’t. He’d prefer if she stay far away.

The thought of being in a vulnerable state is enough to make Kokichi’s stomach twist. Let alone being rendered practically helpless around others… Aside from Gundham and Kazuichi. Doctors and even Veterinarians simply aren’t an option for him. Lying there, strange hands touching him, prodding at him, knowing how weakened he is, how scared… Never. He’s been sick this long without needing outside help. He can keep it that way. Or, worst-case scenario, this is a perfectly good bed to die under.

Snarling at his boyfriend, sound abruptly stops before Kaz even enters the room, ears perked and eyes darting to the still-closed door. Yet small body is tensed, gaze FOCUSED... He hears him. He smells him. Still as death, accepting the split-second risk of Gundham potentially grabbing him, the breeder’s claims of what Charlotte will do falls on deaf ears. Almost. Nose twitches as the knob turns, Kaz’s scent washing over as the door creaks on its hinges. 

Now’s his chance.

Before Gundham can even get his warning out, a black and white blur darts from underneath the bed. Zipping past Gundham and Kazuichi in the time it would take to blink, Kokichi races down the hallway. Nearly making it to the end, panting from the strain on his already-fatigued body, normally-nimble paws suddenly start to scramble. Losing his footing, he lets out a startled yelp before tumbling into a heap on the floor. Lying there, breathing heavily, body trembles as he attempts to stand before falling flat once more. Whimpering with a pitiful sneeze, sullen gaze is focused on the end of the hall... He’s so close. He just needs to get up and he can find a hiding place. There isn’t a single one he hasn’t discovered in his mischief. Gundham would never be able to find him. Or at the very least, it would take a while.

But he’s just so tired... and his body refuses to move.   「 ☆ 」 

[not-bcring]

dragcns-den asked: “In every moment a choice exists. We can cling to the past or embrace the inevitability of change and allow a brighter future to unfold before us.”  —  (( Makoto @ Nagito - after all the craziness has passed, seeing how things are going with the after-game Dr2 babs on the island. Because Nagito deserves the chance to interact with the Hope Boi again  lol )) @not-bcring​

Originals Rp Meme || Accepting

There’s only a soft smile in response, how honored he was truly to be able to speak with Makoto again. Then again, he’s honored whenever anyone wants to speak with someone like him. Nagito knows well what he means by those words, and he certainly believes them himself. Though sometimes, to keep that brighter future, certain weeds have to be trimmed. Or at least, one would think so.

“I would expect no less from you, after all you’ve made quite a change for the future in the name of hope yourself. Those who cling to the past are who need to be cut out so that the future can remain bright, or it’ll simply keep cycling back because of those few people, don’t you think?”

✩   「 resiliency-in-starlight 」   ✩  

「 ☆ 」   Nagito is an interesting soul, to say the least, and Makoto knows that he’s barely scratched the surface of what lies within the fellow Lucky Student. Although, now that he’s known more commonly as the Ultimate Hope, perhaps Makoto no longer has any right to the title? Yet, no matter what he’s called, Makoto still feels a tie towards it. ‘ Luck ’ is what brought him to Hope’s Peak. To his friends. And yes, to the tragedy that befell them... But also eventual victories, hard-earned through sacrifice and stubbornness, and the bonds forged in the fires of the Hell that overtook the world. A devastation that is slowly but surely being set right, greatly thanks to the help of those now confined to Jabberwock Island.

Sometimes, Makoto wonders if the others comprehend just how much he owes to them... To everyone. With as much praise AND criticism as he gets— especially now as he works to rebuild Hope’s Peak and the symbol it provides for the world —it can be easy to feel like other get overlooked in a shadow he has no desire to cast, nor does he try to make span any longer than it already has. Unfortunately, the previously despaired don’t have much choice but to remain set aside... for the moment. Makoto has no intention of forcing them on the sidelines inevitably. They deserve the same fresh start that everyone else is getting. 

Whether or not they believe it. 

❝  Well... I wouldn’t put it exactly that way.  ❞  Makoto replies, a light, slightly-nervous laugh lacing his words. Not out of any unease towards Nagito, but simply a habit of sharing his opinions that he has yet to shake. After a lifetime of people preferring he be quiet, it’s difficult to accept that his words hold as much value as others now seem to think. Looking at Nagito, the shorter male beams with a more easy-going smile,  ❝  I prefer to think of it as— those who cling to the past, especially if it’s a dreary one, can be shown a better way. People aren’t incapable of change, no matter how difficult that change may be to achieve.  ❞   

Looking back in front of himself, Makoto’s voice softens, as does his expression. Appearing more thoughtful as he takes in the expanse of the sky above them,  ❝  I have to believe that... Because that’s what Hope is. It’s not giving up, even when things are at their darkest. It’s seeing the light, no matter how dim.  ❞  Grimacing, Makoto’s gaze falls to ocean before them instead. Taking in the steady crashing of the waves. Beautiful... but deadly in the right circumstances.  ❝  I know that some people can be more... challenging than others. But- if our first instinct is to cut down what doesn’t fit in the world we’re trying to create, then....  ❞  

❝  How long until it gets easy? Until we cut before we even try. Before we think to try... Before we know it, we could lose some of the most beautiful flowers just because we mistook them for weeds.  ❞     「 ☆ 」 

[not-bcring]

✩     「   @from-across-the-stars​   」    ✩   -   Continued from ★

「 ☆ 」   Nagito… is not fond of hospitals.

It’s a mundane sentiment; most people are not fond of them. But there’s a clear sourness within Nagito’s gut whenever he’s forced to step into one, stemming from conditions far more severe than commonplace unease. Ironically, his reluctance to come when not deemed necessary usually lands him within its sterile depths for extended periods of time. Confined to a familiar hospital bed, tucked away in a private room reserved for the frequent and wealthy visitor, Nagito silently laments the decisions that had brought him back here… and so soon after his recent checkup.

Illness really is a remarkably fast-moving threat when it comes to his fragile immune system. Certain what he was experiencing was a simple cold that would pass in due time, Nagito hadn’t expected to collapse right outside his room. As luck would have it, Mikan had been passing by. Able to get help even amongst her panic, Nagito had been spirited away to the place he hates most. A necessary evil that he’ll have to thank her for once he’s back on his feet. But for now, confined to a bed with much-needed fluids pumped into him and beeping machines monitoring his vitals, that shall have to wait. Thanking and sending away the two men at his side should be far simpler a task… It should be.

But from the moment Kazuichi and Gundham rushed into the room, as if Hellfire was licking at their heels, Nagito knew it would be an even bigger headache than the beeping of the machines around him. The two men look like they sprinted straight from whatever tasks they’d been engaged in when getting the news.

The steady noise of the monitors is already grating on Nagito’s ears, the lucky boy never able to fully tune it out no matter how much he’s been exposed to it. Wondering if it’s as splitting a pain for the others or that’s just his exhausted body making things more difficult, Nagito quietly studies the men beside him. Mainly Gundham, gaze now riveted upon the papers within the breeder’s grasp. Grey hues sharp, hands grab his blankets with enough force to turn already-pale knuckles white, trembling ever-so-slightly as he practically tries to will the breeder closer with wishful thinking alone. Intelligent as Gundham may be, Nagito prays that the breeder doesn’t comprehend the damning evidence in his grasp.

Gundham may tend to the medical needs of animals, but surely Nagito’s vast and varied history— doctors keeping extensive records on hand of ailments ( both physical and mental per request of Hope’s Peak ) , risks, medications, and whatnot —will go over his head. If that’s the case, then it’d be up to the others memory to cling to the overly-complex terms for later use. Although frankly, there are only two that concern Nagito at the moment. One still slowly dragging him to an untimely end while the other lies dormant, Nagito having overcome it twice already… Not that it matters if it returns, since his fate is already set.

At least it’s clear that Kazuichi is clueless to his condition.

About as clueless as BOTH men are to the slip of Gundham’s tongue, Nagito’s chest heavy with the unfortunate sincerity he heard within it… If it were anyone else other than them, he would easily explain what’s wrong with him. Knowing that it wouldn’t matter. That, morbid a truth as it is, they might find relief in it. Or at the very least, an apathy that Nagito is accustomed to. But he can’t say it to either of them. Not now. Not after that.

Smoothly snatching taking the papers from Kazuichi’s hand, feeling far more comfortable with them in his grasp face down on the blanket where they can no longer be studied, Nagito replies in an equally-smooth tone. ❝ Currently, I’m overcoming a virus that caused me to collapse… But you two should have nothing to worry about. My body’s reaction was more- severe than normal. ❞ Purposely steering the conversation to the present instead of fully answering Kazuichi’s question, Nagito’s disinterested gaze follows one of the thin tubes stuck into his vein, fluids carefully flowing in to help him regain his strength.

❝ My immune system is garage. Befitting the worthless trash it belongs to… ❞ Comment is made with little care to how it’d be taken, it making far more sense to Nagito than anything else so far. Sighing, as if bored of the entire event, he shrugs and explains, ❝ Once I’ve been pumped full of fluids and had a few standard tests done, it shouldn’t be long before I’m released… if I’m lucky. ❞ Grimacing, irritation breaks through his calm composure, tone holding a bit more bite as he picks at his blanket, ❝ If I’m unlucky, I may have to stay for a couple days while they run more extensive tests. As if that’s necessary. ❞

Looking as if he’s simply annoyed at the prospect of the hospital staff wasting his time, there’s no denying the faint quiver in Nagito’s hands, grip on the papers tightening ever-so-slight with a faint crinkle. He doesn’t want to be here any longer than necessary… and certainly not alone. ❝ Either way, neither of you need to waste your time here. ❞ And there’s that unconcerned smile. Empty but persistent, practiced time and time again as Nagito reassures others who matter far more than himself. ❝ This isn’t anything out of the ordinary for me. Frankly, aside from having company this time, it’s rather routine. ❞

Nagito forces his hands to stop shaking.

It’s time for Gundham and Kazuichi to leave.

They have better things to do.

❝ No need to concern yourself with a burden like me. ❞ 「 ☆ 」

[not-bcring]

✩   「   @from-across-the-stars​​   」   ✩   -   Continued from ★

「 ☆ 」   Bracing himself for a blow, breath is abruptly knocked from him… but not in the way he expected. Glare shattered into confusion at the sudden interruption— the leader of the group crying out in pain as something heavy hits him square in the back —it’s soon replaced with utter horror. Unable to hide the distress that paints his already pale face a ghostly-shade, wide eyes take in a scenario he wished to only witness in nightmares. Silhouetted against the moonlight that dares stream into the darkened alley, as if fate is shining a spotlight down upon the scene Kokichi has caused, stands two of the LAST people he wants around right now.

The fucking idiots…

Before he can say as much, chaos has already erupted. Unceremoniously dropped to the ground, Kokichi watches his should-be captor rush into the fray. Foolishly believing in his chances against the newcomers, the brute is quickly proven wrong. Struggling to stand, knees weak from more than just fatigue, Kokichi can’t feel any air entering his lungs. Sounds muffled, as if his head was being forced underwater, Kokichi’s heart is the only thing he can clearly feel. Each beat sharp in his chest, like a nail being driven further in. A thunderous, racing roar of retribution, screaming to Kokichi that he’s still alive. And look what good it’s causing.

Trembling like a dog left out in the rain, he rests against the wall, broken blemishes digging into his back as a constant reminder of where he is. Most might not need it, but it’s the only thing keeping Kokichi clinging to reality as long as he has. Pained screams around him echoing with those of the past, vision flickering between the fight and horrifically vivid images of a warehouse, dark and damp and dripping with blood… A figure tied in a chair beside him. Slumped over and silent. But he hadn’t always been. No, he had been talking. Smiling. Reassuring Kitaro Kokichi that it would be okay. The walls had felt like they shook that night. Weakening from the wailing they fought to keep held within. Begging, crying, SCREAMING for them to stop.

He hadn’t pleaded once… but Kokichi had.

Until his throat was raw.

Kokichi doesn’t realize tears are silently sliding down his face until a flash of pink eyes are aimed at him. Shell-shocked gaze snapping back to the present with dizzying speed, Kokichi is only able to utter a frantic,  ❝  Shit.  ❞  when Kazuichi is grabbed thanks to the lapse in judgement. Thanks to him. Pushing himself away from the wall, he falls forward onto his knees, hissing as they are freshly bloodied. Looking back into the fray, stomach sinks at the sound Kazuichi makes as he hits the ground in tandem, unable to find any relief at the mechanic standing once again. All that means is he’s back in the fight…

❛  No. No, no, no, no, NO-  ❜  Scrambling to his feet, chest heaving and head swimming, he tries to gather his distorted thoughts.  ❛  Think. Fucking think. You BETTER fucking think of something right NOW.  ❜  Silently screaming at himself, head hastily surveys the scene. Just in time to see Gundham return a hit that had him reeling to the ground, Kokichi’s chest burning with a sickening fury amongst the fear. He needs to stop this. He WILL stop this. There has to be a way to, and quickly… Forced to trust that Kazuichi and Gundham can handle things for the time being ( they may have gotten hurt, but they are far from helpless.. especially when working together ) he turns his attention towards the leader of the group. Sticking to the outskirts, as expected of the obviously overwhelmed guy.

Kokichi had pegged him as a coward, only ever striking when someone else was holding the little leader down. Now with two larger threats in the mix, he seems to be leaving it to his lackeys. Back pressed against the wall, the man keeps his distance as much as possible. Easing his way around the scuffle so that he can have a clearer escape route if need be. Despite his clear precautions, it’s obvious that he’s too prideful to leave while his group still has a chance. None of his followers seem eager to be labeled the true coward amongst them, everyone fighting senselessly like cornered animals. But Kokichi has no doubt that all it’ll take for them to fall apart is an opening. An excuse to flee without appearing too quick to.

… Cut off the head of the snake, and the body will die.

With attention diverted to the chaotic fight, Kokichi makes his way towards the opposing leader on quiet feet. Limping thanks to his injuries, demeanor doesn’t give away the pain he’s in. Face is still as stone, a deceptive carving of calm and calculated hatred. Internally, Kokichi is anything but composed. A turbulent storm, having killed his target a dozen times in his mind as he silently slips his weapon from its hidden place in his clothes. A butterfly knife, which isn’t the best for combat but serves its purpose perfectly fine. Thumb absentmindedly rubs the handle, surface smooth in an unwavering grip. Eyes sharp as his blade, small body is low to the ground, like a predator stalking its prey. Foolishly oblivious to his surroundings, the target doesn’t realize how close he is to potential death.

It’d be easy to kill him… It’s much harder to miss the vital points that Kokichi picks out as if they were glowing. Against every instinct he has, Kokichi rushes at his target, clinging to the larger male as he jabs the knife into their side. It’s a grisly looking wound, the scream it creates even more-so. But he’ll survive. People have made it through far worse. Fire-filled eyes focused on the blood seeping into the man’s shirt, Kokichi twists the knife before roughly yanking it out, biting his tongue to stifle his pained yelp when he’s thrown aside. Kokichi refusing to scream because of HIM.

Collapsed on the ground, knife clattering a few feet away, Kokichi shakily lifts himself up onto his forearms. Fresh blood on his face and limbs, he doesn’t even seem to notice. Expression nothing but maliciously joyful, he watches the panicked man firmly press his hands to his side. Laughter bubbles from a bloodstained grin, Kokichi spitting some out thanks to his mauled tongue, breathless but utterly delighted as it echoes through the alley. Reveling in the sight of the assailants’ leader running away as best he can, stumbling and frantic to find help. Kokichi doesn’t know if he’s made things better or worse for himself in the long run… but he does know one thing.

Either he’s given the other attackers a reason to follow, or he’s given Kazuichi and Gundham an opportunity to decisively grab the advantage. With horrified looks aimed towards the retreating back of their should-be leader and a few uneasily glancing at the still-cackling Kokichi, his ribs feeling like they’re splitting with each wheezing breath… the mood of the group has certainly been changed by this unforeseen distraction.

Kokichi has always been good at surprising people.   「 ☆ 」

[not-bcring]

✧   「   @the-ultimate-muses   」   ✧  - Continued from ★  

「 ☆ 」 Kokichi prefers when Gundham is ❛ asleep ❜ .

It's what is best for everyone... Kazuichi doesn't have to listen to the incessant ramblings of the dorklord. Kokichi doesn't have to wonder where Gundham is should the breeder leave his sight for too long. Keeping track of both his boyfriends can be straining at times. But Gundham gets the most benefit. Spared what reality has become, existing through the hellish days they are submitted to without the burden of being awake for it. Reminiscent of how his mother would bumble through hers in an alcoholic stupor or slumber, aided by the drinks stolen procured by Kokichi. Even as a small child, he understood the power of escapism... and the selfishness of enabling his mother's addiction, so long as it made life easier.

No doubt it isn't GOOD for someone to spend so much time unconscious, from a medical standpoint. But pros and cons must be weighed, as well as how powerless Kokichi is to keep the other from fits of mania or mechanic-given punishment even if he dared to try. So, he opts to not complain about the bittersweet gift and accept it as he's come to with everything else... Frightening annoying as it is to have to endure the periods between monologues and Kazuichi's violent outbursts.

... It's funny. How scared he was at the start of everything. Not the world plunged into despair, but the TRUE start. When his feelings for Gundham and Kazuichi became too troublesome to deny. Terrified of being hurt, aware enough to understand it would be effortless for either of them. Physically OR emotionally... Sometimes, even after things had settled into a comfortable place, Kokichi wondered if they ever fully understood that. Realized what it felt like to be the smallest of their trio. Safe as he may have been with them, there was no escaping that reality.

Turns out he was right to be scared. It simply took a while for that to come to light. Outside forces bringing his wariness to fruition... Yelping as he's unceremoniously ripped from the grasp of sleep inching towards him, sound catches in his throat when a different hand takes hold. Soon after rejoining his partners, Kokichi had hidden his bandana. Tucked away in a secret nook he discovered late that first night, when he was confident enough the pair was asleep. Not trusting Kaz or Gunnie to refrain from targeting the precious object should their sadism demand.

So icy hand wraps around a bare neck, chilling fair skin. Goosebumps accost Kokichi as his throat bobs with a swallow, pushing into a firm STRONG palm. Cold trails down his body, chest stuttering with a discreet, shaky exhale. Lips slightly parted, air ghosts in slow... shallow breaths. Wide eyes trained upon Gundham's face, blankly staring up at darkened hues. Familiarity and uncanniness mix into one, settling in Kokichi's stomach like a rock. Strange to witness in Gundham, yet reminiscent of the man whose large hands used to pin Kokichi down. Squeezing. Strangling. Subduing. Before— or sometimes while —taking what he wanted from the boy.

Kaiyo had given him the bandana after it happened the first time. Something to veil the bruises marring his neck. To help him feel a bit more protected... False as they knew that security was and suspected it always would be.

He lies there, only faintly aware of what's being said before his mind crawls back to the present. Kokichi doesn't exactly want it to. But of course, it doesn't matter what HE wants... So, light fades back into a mismatched gaze. Brows knitting at the slight squeeze to his throat. Expression hardens, lips closed in a tight frown as Kokichi bristles like an offended animal. One who likely should be tossed into a crate and out of the way of its owners. Breathing becomes a bit heavier, the little jester now aware of how loudly his heart has been pounding in his ears. What was a dulled echo near-deafening. There's a faint whimper behind shut lips... Kokichi tensing ever-so-slightly, as if pained by something—

Before he abruptly spats blood in Gundham's face, courtesy of a bitten tongue.

There. That feels like a suitable answer. 「 ☆ 」

[not-bcring]

✧   「   @the-ultimate-muses   」   ✧  - Continued from ★  

「 ☆ 」 Kokichi had been tireless in his quest for his boyfriends... Or whatever mangled husks remained of them. As much as he secretly insists otherwise, it's difficult to believe that behind such cold eyes— eerily similar to what Kokichi had fixated upon him when he and his brother were scraping by survival within the ❛ safety ❜ of their chosen group —lie the men he loves. Whether they're truly gone or not, it feels unnatural to think of that emotion in the past-tense. No matter what befalls them ( or himself ) Kokichi can't stop loving them... Even if he wanted to.

Truthfully, before the world was cast into chaos, part of him always wanted to. A desire that has ironically waned the further he slipped into insanity. Desperate to be freed from the entanglement of emotion and return to a simpler existence. One where the only life he was truly in danger of ruining was his own. Now? Call it whatever one may: love... obsession... purpose... Distraction.

Existence itself.

It ALL revolves around Kazuichi and Gundham. Having lost or at times purposely shed the trappings that used to make up the facade he displayed, all that remains is the raw essence of Kokichi's nature. A disgustingly wretched being willing to leave behind gifts of carnage so long as it benefitted him in the end. Equal parts ringmaster AND jester, Kokichi had surrendered to his baser instincts ( kicking and screaming as he was forced into the deepest pits where death couldn't claim him ) and was punished rewarded by finding the two he sought. It's then that the Supreme Leader metamorphosized back into their protector clown.

A familiar role. Adding another target for aggressions rather than solely one another. Another set of hands to tend to tasks that may otherwise go unheeded. Another pair of eyes to ensure outside dangers never wander too close to their sanctuary territory. Blood hadn't stopped staining his hands after rejoining those who he knows are more than capable of defending themselves. It merely became less performative. For his boyfriends, anyway. Kaz and Gunnie have no need to see the cathartic carcasses decorating the landscape whenever Kokichi is sent or slips away on ❛ errands ❜ . What served as bait to draw two in now a warning to keep others OUT... as well as a means of expression, puppets to position as he wishes.

... It's not fair.

He didn't come all this way— sacrifice SO MUCH —to be literally shoved aside.

Stumbling back at the rough contact, arms flail as the jester tries and fails to regain his balance. What would have been easy for him what feels like a lifetime ago, now dismally difficult on already-shaky legs. It's been woefully long since he's last eaten, Kokichi barely taking enough to survive in the fear his boyfriends require their scarce supplies more. They are bigger than him, after all. With muscle mass to maintain and manual labor often taking up energy... Besides, Kokichi used to be accustomed to eating very little. Before he became weak and well-fed thanks to his partners.

What little stomach he had begun to show is long gone thanks to being thrust back into familiar circumstances. Kokichi even leaner than he was when trying to provide for him and his twin as mere children upon the streets. There's far less to steal... and even more mouths to feed. Paired with the exhaustion weighing upon his small form, dark circles under eyes reddened from crying, and he stood no chance of saving himself. Tumbling backward as he trips over Gundham's limp body, he hits the ground with an audible thud. Breathing heavily and slumped over the unconscious breeder, wide eyes raise to fixate upon his retreating boyfriend.

Mismatched hues appear slightly dazed... still fogged by panic as trembling limbs force himself upright. Paying no mind to how he roughly pushes away from Gundham, the little leader jester scrambles to follow. Sprinting at the dismissive mechanic, words no longer come from a throat screamed painfully raw. Instead, he crashes into Kazuichi, face buried against a back and arms wrapped TIGHT around the other man. Clinging to Kaz as though already braced to be forced away, he gasps and fights for breath through the still-crashing waves of a panic attack that leaves him near dizzy. Buzzing beneath his skin makes him tempted to claw at himself as though he could offer it release should he dig in DEEP enough... but he focuses that frustration into latching onto his ❛ boyfriend ❜ .

Uncertain what he's even DOING anymore, all lucidity has been diverted onto Kazuichi ( and getting his acknowledgement ) ... Otherwise, Kokichi honestly isn't sure what else he would do. Or what he WILL do if Kaz continues to deny him. 「 ☆ 」

[not-bcring]

✩ 「   @nickelsdrocs   」   ✩  - Continued from ★

「 ☆ 」 Shuichi doesn’t know where the flowery prose came from— maybe blame can be placed in the book of poetry set aside on the table he’s seated at —but it’s not inaccurate. There’s something about Seto that’s yanking the detective along against all better judgment. A sense of confusing comfort found in the others company. An elation that Shuichi hadn’t known could be felt. Seto is a puzzle within a puzzle and Shuichi is helplessly intrigued by it. Thankfully, the feeling appears to be mutual at the moment.

Instead of being off-put by such an odd turn of phrase, Seto appears to take it in stride. Simply adding to the sentiment without making Shuichi feel awkward for feeling it in the first place. Smiling at the playful thief, Shuichi snickers when his nose is tapped, a hand hastily covering his mouth to stifle the delighted sound. No need for a librarian to hover over the detective’s shoulder when he’s more than capable of keeping himself in line. Complexion hinted pink, eyes shine with unveiled ( yet woefully unrealized ) fondness as he replies from behind his hand, ❝ Well, that’s good. Because I don’t want to be rid of you. ❞

Despite the truthful words, Shuichi still doesn’t entirely believe Seto’s. Even if the thief means them, there’s bound to come a time when Shuichi is no longer interesting enough to remain a part of Seto’s life. When the novelty of ❛ rivals ❜ wears off and Seto sees the unimpressive detective for what he is. No one worth staying with.

Until then, it’s important that Seto knows his company is wanted for however long it may last.

Delicate hand rests upon an open book in front of him, hopeful smile revealed as Shuichi asks, ❝ Are you busy right now? Because if you don’t have anywhere else to be, maybe you’d like to spend some time here… with me? ❞ Based on the tower of books beside him, Shuichi seems to have made himself quite at home in the library. One would assume he was in the midst of a slew of schoolwork or perhaps pouring over a tough case. Yet the relaxed posture and willingness for conversation speak otherwise. Engrossed in a rare moment of respite, of course the detective chose to spend it in the library of all places.

Stack of books comprised of whatever happened to catch his eye— ranging from a collection of short stories to a comprehensive study of birds —Shuichi had planned on sinking into them at his leisure. Nodding at the empty chair beside him, he lightly jokes, ❝ There are plenty of books to go around… ❞ Awkwardly chuckling at his own quip, gaze averts to the side. Tucking a strand of ebony hair behind his ear, it does nothing to tame the silken locks falling around his reddened face. ❝ O-Of course, I understand if you’d rather not. I know the library isn’t the most exciting place in the world… ❞

It doesn’t occur to Shuichi that he could offer to spend time with Seto somewhere else if he’d prefer. It already feels invasive enough just asking inviting the other to stick around, let alone inviting himself to wherever Seto might prefer to be. 「 ☆ 」

[not-bcring]

✩ 「 @heartheaded​ 」 ✩ - Continued from ★

「 ☆ 」 Ryota doesn't spare Ai a glance after their initial command that he stop moving, not even a verbal hum to show that the other's words made it through to the artist. But they must have, since Ryota's posture relaxes as they sink back into their work. However, stylus abruptly stops in the midst of striking a few lines when Ai's expression changes. As if Ryota sensed the movement. Shoulders tensing once more, it's a subtle shift in their reserved demeanor, the tip of their pen hitting the tablet's screen with a light tap.

❝ I can feel you judging me. ❞ They dryly complain, quiet voice sounding more annoyed than offended. As if this was yet another inconvenience they'd have to contend with instead of a mark against them as a person. It's understandable they'd be viewed poorly for how they live. Besides, they've been accustomed to judgment even before their habits became so abysmal. Perhaps, were they more inclined to take better care of themself, they could avoid being viewed QUITE as harshly. Soft, daresay attractive features veiled by layers of neglect ( both from the world and themself ) and utter disregard... But there's no point to it.

Beneath a clean appearance lies a personality and interests and social skills that provide more than enough reason for ridicule... The only thing worthwhile is their art. So, that's where Ryota must put all their effort.

Eyes narrowing slightly, lips tighten in a frustrated frown as Ryota finally looks back at their subject. Golden hues glinting as they study Ai, even their expression doesn't betray any PERSONAL stake in the matter. More reminiscent of an artist examining their tools, trying to figure out the best way to work with what they have.

Flitting down from Ai's face to his form, Ryota's own features scrunch in disgust as they huff to themself, ❝ No, that won't work. I can't even focus on your body when your face is like that... You're too tense. It's clear that everything is off. ❞ Whether others would agree, it's hard to say. But Ryota's keen eye can't get past the discomfort crawling on Ai's skin, tainting what is supposed to be a pure study of their subject. Feeling a similar itch within themself, stemmed from the task at hand instead of the unsanitary conditions they are meant to perform it in, Ryota rests their tablet on their lap and complains, ❝ Look, I know it's not exactly pleasant in here, but I can't do my job if you can't shove down your disgust for a bit longer. ❞

Technically a ❛ BIT ❜ is a stretch. With the pace things have been going, it'd be a miracle if they managed to keep it under an hour or two at best. But admitting that hardly feels like any way to get Ai to calm down... Although, Ryota doubts the other isn't aware. Still, they consider it common courtesy not to vocalize the unfortunate truth when it's not necessary. 「 ☆ 」