#nickelsdrocs

[the-ultimate-muses]

@nickelsdrocs enabled some Violence >:3 (X)

Getting under Gundham's skin, really under his skin, wasn't always easy to do. Sure, certain topics could set him off without fail every time (such as anything with animals being mistreated), but there were several that he was well accustomed to, enough to the point he could keep his temper mostly in check and avoid a fight unless pressed. Insults about who he was as a person, how he liked to live, it was a common target. It was normal, happening at least once a week, words of varying venom being thrown haphazardly for so much as walking past someone. Unless confronted face to face, he just ignored them and kept on with his own business. That was what happened the most, people like that not really wanting a fight if their target was keen on fighting back.

Every so often, though, there were times where he just...shut down. It only ever happened when around someone he considered a close friend, someone that he knew would protect him more than his Overlord persona ever could.

His day had been more than a little stressful; non-stop running about tending to his animals, being dragged to class despite vehemently protesting while right in the middle of tending to a new litter of kitten under his care, and then back to his animals with even more needing his attention thanks to being pulled away when he was.

He was tired, he was stressed, and he was most definetly not in the mood to be taunted by a group of boys intent on bolstering their own egos. So, he ignored them, kept on walking even as they shouted more, until one had grabbed his shoulder and spun him around. He had been ready for a fight-

But then Ari had come to his defense before he could even say a word, the breeder simply shutting down in that mind-numbing way in an attempt for mental comfort. The very thought of speaking made his tongue feel odd, like it would cause physical pain should he have to speak. So, he let Ari do all the talking, still watching the group of boys just in case it came to blows, but now a step behind his partner as she tore into the bullies.

[not-bcring]

"Hey! You're b-back!" Seto cheered upon seeing a familiar cap peek through the tent's curtain. Hiding lashes that had yet to heal behind the wall of his tank, the merman just barely poked over. "I th-thought Ikuto would've scared you off for good." ( Some Mer!Seto for MerMay! ) - ✧ ˖ ˙ 「 @nickelsdrocs 」 ˙ ˖ ✧

「 ☆ 」 Shuichi had been skeptical of the circus's claims, as any self-respecting scientist would be. How else could he respond to boisterous claims of a ❛ real ❜ mermaid on display? However, despite this disbelief, Shuichi couldn't pass up the opportunity to investigate for himself. Because an openness to the unknown— to the unbelievable —is crucial for one of make advances in their field. He wouldn't have gotten as far as he has if it weren't for his insatiable thirst for knowledge, and his uncanny ability to shed personal bias in favor of unfiltered truths.

So, expecting nothing and hoping for everything, he had snooped around a bit more than most guests would or are allowed to. Stumbling across one of the greatest discoveries of his life... and one of the nicest. Unfortunately, their conversation— ripe with curiosity and information to share on BOTH ends —had been unceremoniously cut short. Dragged away by a man who was NOT pleased by him bothering the mermaid... and had left some nasty bruises on Shuichi's arm thanks to the harshness of his grip. A small price to pay ( and hardly the worst he's experienced ) .

A lesser man would have taken the blatant threat that followed hint and stayed away... But curiosity is a powerful thing. As is that strange sense of right that had struck when he started conversing with the mermaid. An ease and acceptance he's been robbed in life. Could anyone really blame Shuichi for wanting to experience it again? Besides, he was concerned about the other male's well-being. After getting roughly handled by Ikuto, he needed to know the extent of trouble Seto had gotten into thanks to his snooping... Hopefully it wasn't too much.

Shushing Seto with a finger to his lips, he quickly looks around to ensure no one else is aware of his arrival. He can't risk being caught again. Satisfied that the coast is clear, he hastily makes his way over to the tank with a relieved smile. Part of him had thought Seto might not be there anymore. ❝ I don't blame you. Ikuto is a rather- intimidating man... ❞ He replies with a light chuckle, a bit of lingering nervousness tinging what was meant to be a casual sound. Marks on his arm throb as if in agreement, hidden beneath his long sleeve. ❝ But I couldn't resist the opportunity to see you again. ❞ It's not as though the circus will be here forever...

Tilting his head, brim of his hat angles to allow a peek of a golden eye. A bit of brightness shining through the shield and curtains of dark... Not much, but more than most get from the anxious male. ❝ I uh... I also wanted to apologize. I didn't intend to cause you any trouble. ❞ Slim brows furrow, smile slipping as he worriedly inquires, ❝ Was he... upset with you? ❞ There's an unwitting heaviness in those words. The concern of someone who has experienced witnessed what people are capable of when ❛ upset ❜ with someone... and who isn't naive enough to believe that cruelty wouldn't extend to the ones under a person's care. 「 ☆ 」

[canon-fcdder]

After getting a drink or two or three from the bar, Seto sat down next to Eiland as his group started their little game of pretend. That first Friday night in town, they had invited him to play as well, but he declined, stating he much preferred to watch than participate. Really, he just thought they might catch on to his illiteracy. So, instead, he listened to their story, finding their creativity remarkable. But after the long day he had and the help of the booze, he found himself being lulled to sleep by their voices, especially Eiland's. He kept fighting against the pull on his eyelids and head until he softly slumped over on the other, head resting against the other's shoulder. (Have a sleepy Seto.) -  ✧  ˖  ˙   「  @nickelsdrocs   」   ˙  ˖  ✧   

「 ☆ 」 Seto's reaction to the invite was honestly better than Eiland had expected, even if it wasn't an agreement. But it wasn't admonishing either. In fact, despite Seto's apparent lack of interest in participating, he still wanted to be around for the merriment. So it became habit for the newcomer to sit at the table, drinking and observing while Eiland spun a tale for his friends.

Having an extra audience member spurred the noble to become even more theatrical with his approach. Feeling as though there was more on the line. Not that he didn't always bring his BEST during campaigns, but there was undoubtedly something different about a fresh face. Especially one that appeared so entranced by the story the table managed to weave, Eiland feeling a fresh swell of pride not only in himself but his players each time he noticed the sparkle in Seto's eyes.

Tonight, however, the session was a notably tamer one. Not every second can be overrun with peril and plot points. Characters and the story itself needs room to breathe, and poignant moments would be dulled if there was nothing to compare them to. It's no wonder Seto is unable to beat back the merciless pull of sleep... and Eiland has no qualms with letting it happen; voice catches at the sudden weight against him, Eiland blinking with surprise as he looks down at the other.

Oh...

Not wanting to keep the others waiting, Eiland only allows himself a second to enjoy the sight. Smile soft and expression even more so ( spurring some snickers from his party as they share looks and a silent secret that even Eiland isn't aware of yet ) he turns back to the others, with flushed features and a hasty embarrassed shush. The last thing Seto needs is to be woken up when he seems so comfortable. Trying but failing to appear annoyed at their childish expressions, Eiland good-naturedly rolls his eyes before delving back into the narrative.

His gestures are hindered now that he only has the use of one arm, but it's a small price to pay for Seto getting decent rest. Especially after all the help he been giving the town. 「 ☆ 」

[burning-fcols]

Upon waking in a certain moth's bed, Peter would find a brown tabby cat lying soundly in the middle of his chest, moving his head from where it was lying on his paws to stare back at the angel. He looked almost identical to the furry cats you might find in heaven except a few key differences. His eyes were completely white with no iris or pupil to be seen, and about halfway down his tail, it split in two as if it had attempted to duplicate itself and gave up. Seto, the bakeneko currently using the Angel as a pillow, had overheard Peter's activities with his keeper last night from his hiding spot in the vents, and once the cost was clear, he came down to see what the fuss was about. He was always ever so curious, after all. ( Little Kitty man has another awkward tol to romance. ) - ✧ ˖ ˙ 「 @ɴɪᴄᴋᴇʟꜱᴅʀᴏᴄꜱ 」 ˙ ˖ ✧

「 ☆ 」 Groaning as he shifts from where he's been left on the bed, bleary eyes slowly blink open as his mind drags itself from the haze of deep slumber and back to reality... Along with the aches and pains that accompany it. Hissing as he attempts to sit upright, body tenses and forces him to lie still for a labored breath longer. Needing a moment to come to terms with its battered state. To say it's been a while since he's been in such sorry shape would be an understatement, and it was certainly never because of the activities he partook in last night.

... Holy shit.

Wide eyes stare at the ceiling, teal hues flashing with broken memories of a series of events that makes his pale face flush. Trembling limbs fight to push him upright yet again, Peter noticing the furry lump resting on his chest. Easing himself up while disturbing the cat as little as possible, hands carefully move the feline from his chest down to his blanket-covered lap. One remaining on his back, the other gingerly pets its head with a friendly, ❝ Aww... Hello, little friend. I didn't expect to have company. ❞ Looking around, it's abundantly clear the cat is the only other living creature around. Peter left to his own devices in Valentino's bed, the moth having skillfully slipped out to— Peter can only assume —attend to the day's work.

Gaze flits from a furry face to his arm, grimacing at the vibrant bruises littering it from where hands had grabbed him. Hand moves to run slim fingers up it, breath hitching at the pain that arises. Moving to touch at his neck, he shivers at the divots where fangs had sunk into him. Still stained by pink and gold, now dried upon a heavenly canvas... Bringing his finger back, he gives it an experimental sniff, the intoxicating scent of ❛ Valentino ❜ faintly clinging to the mess left behind.

His scent isn't the only thing clinging to the angel.

❝ Wow. Okay. Um... Yeah. ❞ Peter barks out a nervous laugh, hand running through his messy golden locks. So much for ❛ observing ❜ when it came to his secret trip to Hell. Nervous gaze looks back at the strange cat, hands cupping its furry face, thumbs rubbing its cheeks as he muses out loud, ❝ So, I made a... big mistake last night. Huge, actually. Enormous. ❞ He hadn't intended for things to escalate to such an extent. Can hardly remember HOW it happened... Only that it did, silken feathers decorating the bed serving as proof. ❝ And now, I don't know what to do. ❞

❝ Because, if I'm being honest... I really, really want to do it again. ❞

But what does that say about him as a person? No, as an angel. As a SAINT. As someone who wasn't supposed to be down here. Let alone waking up in a demon's bed, contemplating sinning again simply because it'd been some of the best sex he's experienced in all his years of existence. No wonder humans are driven to sin; temptation is pretty hard to shake. But that's why Heaven is such a paradise. It's a reward for defying such evils... For repenting. For proving oneself. Once someone makes it there, they no longer have to fear such blasphemy. They're ABOVE it.

Right?

❝ I... I should leave. Before I mess up again. ❞ Peter reluctantly says, sighing as he tries to ignore the spike of frustration arising in his gut. 「 ☆ 」

[hells-fvry]

"Bartender's Choice" ( Emi next! nickelsdrocs )

send me "bartender's choice" for husk to make your muse a cocktail he deems fitting for them (X) @nickelsdrocs

A frankly startling amount of alcohol went into this round: gin, vodka, tequila, rum and Blue Curaçao topped off with sprite, a wedge of lemon and a dainty little umbrella before it was passed over.

"Adios, Motherfucker. Oh, and watch out for that guy over there, he tried to slip something into Angel's drink earlier. Don't have any proof though, so I can't kick him out, but what can ya do." He had an idea or two, and no doubt the archer was right there with him...

[mudskip-muses]

@nickelsdrocs cont. from (X)

“Why would I need you to cook for me when I got a perfectly good shaker of  sprinkles right here?” Kaz asked with a wiggle of said shaker, the only reason he hesitated in saying yes right off was that he felt bad asking people to cook for him, no matter how much they didn’t seem to mind. But...Ritsu had offered, and they seemed rather distressed about the sprinkles...

“Alright, fine.” He relented as he pocketed the sprinkles for later. “Whatcha have in mind?”

[the-ultimate-muses]

"So it's just a fuckin' soda, then."

"What am I drinking?" Yusuke echoed, eyebrow raising. Taking a sip, a faint smirk graced his features before replying, "It's a virgin Cuba Libre, though I prefer lemon to the usual lime."

[hayleysmuses]

@nickelsdrocs asked:

Lying on top of the piano, Seto hardly weighed enough to matter. So, it shouldn't hurt Kaede's performance that he was doing so. What would hurt her performance was when his curiosity got the better of him about how the little buttons made the sounds and how Kaede knew which one to press, so he would reach over the side to press a random one. ( I love the Mettaton vibes Seto has here, lying sexily on the piano.)

It had only mildly bothered Kaede the first time Seto had randomly pressed a key during one of her performances. She knew he was a bit of a trickster, and a brief break in her concentration was bothersome, but easy to overlook as she shifted her focus back to the song.

But after the dozenth or so time her practice of Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata First Movement was interrupted by an incorrectly-placed key, it was...Well, she didn't want to outright label it annoying; she enjoyed Seto's presence while she played and was always happy to answer any questions he had for her about the music! But perhaps it was a sign she needed to find some other way to distract his hands.

Well, what better way to do that then to actually teach him about the keys he kept pressing?

"You know, Seto...I could teach you how to play, if you want!" she offered, shifting to one side of the piano bench in order to free up the other.

[not-bcring]

"I already told you. I didn't steal your phone, so I don't have it," Seto called down as he heard footsteps approaching the tree he was lounging in, not even bothering to open his eyes. He probably should have, as he would've seen that the other was not the Aikido girl come to badger him about her missing phone. (First meeting between Seto and Shuichi, go!) - ✧ ˖ ˙ 「 @ɴɪᴄᴋᴇʟꜱᴅʀᴏᴄꜱ 」 ˙ ˖ ✧

「 ☆ 」 Shuichi is accustomed to being dragged into whatever mysteries— or more often ❛ squabbles ❜ —plague his classmates. Not that he minds it, mostly. It’s flattering they put so much trust into his skills, viewing him as their best chance of getting answers or justice. Being literally strong-armed into assisting Tenko with her phone problem is proof that she sees him as capable. Even if her comment about how she’d prefer to have Kyoko Kirigiri handling matters lessened the sentiment. As did the offhanded remark about how unfortunately, she could never force another girl to have to ❛ deal with that insufferable headache ❜ .

The headache in question apparently referring to the Ultimate Phantom Thief. A bit obvious of a suspect but Shuichi refuses to let himself be biased. Reality doesn’t follow the tropes of mystery novels, after all. Even if it can adhere to a surprising amount. Not willing to lean towards guilt OR innocence before he could gather all the facts, Shuichi had asked for all the relevant information Tenko could give in regards to her missing phone. No detail was too small.

❛ No detail ❜ ended up being the theme of the interrogation.

Eventually growing tired of his classmate’s repeated insistence that Seto was to blame and utter refusal to offer anything else, Shuichi had wearily thanked her for her… cooperation before going to find the only other lead he had. It wasn’t difficult to track down the notorious thief, onlookers more than happy to offer the last place they had seen him. It seemed like everyone was waiting with baited breath for his alleged reign of terror to catch up to him… Stuffing down the twinge of unease at how disappointed everyone would undoubtedly be if they knew he was looking for a statement and not confession— let alone retribution —Shuichi said his thanks yet again, before arriving at the tree.

Startled but honestly grateful at Seto breaking the silence before he was forced to, Shuichi makes a mental note on a the thief’s assumption as well as this body language. So, Tenko hadn’t been exaggerating about how she already prodded at Seto for the phone. Nor about how dismissive the other was... Interesting. Pulling down the brim of his hat, golden hues trail up the length of the trunk until they see a leg dangling over a branch. Easing his way a bit higher, he stops just shy of Seto’s face. Allowing the brim to obscure the theif, Shuichi knows that he’s losing valuable insight one can only get by observing someone’s face. But considering the low-stakes of the case— this is a missing phone not a murder investigation —he figures he can try to avoid unnecessary additional stressors.

❝ Actually, I’m here on behalf of Miss Tenko Chabashira. ❞ He begins, slipping into his professional demeanor. Tone steadier than it would be were this a casual visit, Shuichi gives a small, polite nod; still discreetly avoiding eye contact, his own face veiled by ebony bangs and his hat, ❝ My name is Shuichi Saihara, and I was hoping you could provide some insight on the Missing Phone Case. The information I currently have is... limited, and I was told you may be able to tell me more about the incident. ❞ Even if he can't or refuses to, Shuichi can still get a feel for whether he knows more than he's willing to let on. 「 ☆ 」

[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~ ❞ 「 ☆ 」

[the-ultimate-muses]

@nickelsdrocs cont. from (X)

A scoff attempted to leave the yakuza at that, only to turn into a sneezing fit that ended with a few weak coughs to the side. "Yeah, I'm not fucking doing that. I have shit to do, and no way in hell I'm staying in bed all day. I can handle it." It's what he was trained to do, after all. Which was the exact reason why he was wary to take the offered medicine... "If it makes you feel better, I'll take the damn soup with me, alright?" Holding out a hand for the thermos after he finished buttoning up his dress shirt, Fuyu not only looked a bit unsteady on his feet, but he had also done up his shirt lopsided.

[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]

One could hear a hiccuping sob from the kitchen in the dining area. Sitting on top of the cabinets that lined the back wall, Seto was wrapped around a bottle of sake like a baby sloth holding onto its mother. Empty beer cans littered the area around him, even some having been knocked onto the floor.  It would be clear to anyone that he was beyond drunk; he was completely smashed.

(Shuichi, come get your black-out drunk crush who's sad he has to blackmail you.)

-  ✩   「 @nickelsdrocs​​ 」   ✩  

「 ☆ 」   There are two reactions one could have when faced with unknown sobbing… Most in Hope’s Peak would go with the first one. Continuing along their not-so merry way and pretending they never heard another’s sorrow. For good reason, self-serving as it may be. Things don’t tend to go well for people when they stick their nose into others business at the prestigious if somewhat perilous school.  With such a vast array of eccentric and often confrontational personalities, it makes sense that sticking to oneself is a popular decision.

Shuichi, chooses the less popular reaction.

Carefully peeking his head into the kitchen, brim of his hat— previously pulled down low to conceal his face ( as is the norm when the detective is by himself ) —is eased upward just enough for golden hues to peek out. Thin brows furrowed, silent lips are pulled back in a concerned grimace. Gaze scanning the mostly abandoned area, the kitchen looks desolate in the dim lighting, mimicking the shroud of night that’s already fallen outside. In the eerie quiet of a slumbering Hope’s Peak, devastated sobs seem to echo off the walls. Certain that’s a trick of his imagination— surely this would be more of a spectacle if it was truly overwhelming the dark room ��Shuichi’s steps are still light as he hurries forward, as if hesitant to add even the slightest noise to the already deafening despair.  

He better hurry and get Seto… If he knows the thief, and he’d like to think he does, he wouldn’t want anyone stumbling across this show of vulnerability. Shuichi can only hope he won’t be too upset with the audience of one he’s already amassed.

Stepping over scattered cans, Shuichi’s eyes linger on them for an uneasy moment. He’s never had alcohol touch his lips, but he’s seen its affect on other people. Family, co-workers, peers ( of legal drinking age and otherwise ) and it’s seldom pretty. His Uncle always warned him of those temptations; making sure Shuichi knew he was too pure for sinful substances. That if Shuichi let it enter his body, it’d taint something he worked so hard to protect. He could never betray his Uncle like that. Nauseous from the smell, he hastens his movements, wanting to leave the can graveyard as soon as possible. For both of their sakes.

Standing beneath the cabinets, head angles to look up at the pitiful sight. Chest tight, he tries to speak, only for words to fail. Broken before they can even form, all that comes out is a mix between a croak and a whimper, a red-faced Shuichi hastily clearing his throat before trying again. Barely breaking through the sobbing, gentle words hopefully hit Seto’s senses,  ❝  S-Seto? Are you— ...  ❞  Choking back the stupid question— Shuichi firmly believes there’s no such thing but even he has to admit  ❛  are you alright?  ❜  is one in this context —he tries again,  ❝  It’ll be alright...  ❞  There. That’s better. 

Extending his arms in an offer to catch Seto, he doesn’t make any moves closer, not wanting to risk scaring the fragile man.  ❝  Do you want to come down?  ❞     「 ☆ 」 

[not-bcring]

"I.... was just w-wondering.... I mean, we've been, uh, 'dating' for a while now... but we've never been on an actual date before... And I know! I know that's mostly my fault.. with the keeping it secret and all... but now that it's out in the open, I just thought.... maybe we could..." Daisuke blabbered nervously, looking anywhere but at his boyfriend as he spoke.

Letting out a deep breath to clear his nerves, he stared deep into the other bright green eyes, smile spreading across his lips just getting to see the other. Finally, he mustered up the courage to reveal the flowers he had been hiding behind his back and ask, "Ayumu Arata, would you like to go on a date with me?"

(Daisuke had to be the biggest sap in the world for their first official date. He is soooo in love with Ayumu.)

-  ✩   「 @nickelsdrocs 」   ✩  

「 ☆ 」   Daisuke’s nervousness doesn’t take Ayumu by surprise as much as one might expect, considering how supportive and shameless their relationship is. No matter how close they may be, Daisuke is an anxious sort. Self-confidence being one of the things the more outspoken male tries to assist with. Not that Ayumu judges Daisuke for having reservations even around his partner; people in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones, after all. However, he is curious about what brought about the demure demeanor, head tilting quizzically as Ayumu sets aside his phone so that his boyfriend could have his complete attention.

Nodding with an encouraging—  ❝  Uh-huh...  ❞  —as Daisuke mentions the nature of their relationship, Ayumu does have to agree that their circumstances have been- unique. Despite taking longer to develop a genuine bond with Daisuke than Ayumu has with anyone else he’s ever slept with, they had somehow still managed to sort of speed-run their relationship. Going from mutual pining to a LITERAL fuck-fest of a confession— from a first kiss straight to taking Daisuke’s virginity —Ayumu can recall how the majority of that night, and the next day, had been a confusing and overwhelming whirlwind of uncertainty and yet understanding.

Knowing it was a terrifying prospect, for both of them. Allowing themselves to feel THIS deeply for another person... To take the risks that come with love. And yet also knowing that, as much as either might have wished otherwise ( however much ) there was no living without one another after the connection they experienced. Not just the sex— although it was the best Ayumu ever had —but the genuine comfort that came from simply being around each other. They had gone from admitting they wanted each other to slipping into the roles of boyfriends as naturally as breathing. All without so much as a single date to test the waters.

Frankly, Ayumu thinks they should feel pretty proud of that.

Not that he isn’t still ecstatic at the chance to have his first date now. 

Eyes widening alongside his bright smile at the reveal of flowers— actual first date flowers —green hues sparkle with unrestrained joy at the romantic gesture. With Daisuke being the only person to feel a desire to treat Ayumu with any shred of sappiness, it’s no wonder the petite male basks in it with an adorable eagerness. Before meeting Daisuke, and even a while after considering the secretive nature of their relationship, being treated to THIS felt like an indulgent fantasy. Not that Ayumu ever held it against Daisuke; he was already being treated far better than he deserves. With a delighted gasp and an unwitting snatch of the flowers, cheeks flush to match the bouquet as the sweet scent washes over his senses. 

Pressing his face into the smooth petals with a deep breath, he giggles,  ❝  Yes! Yes, yes yes—  ❞  Acting as if he’s accepting a proposal rather than a date, Ayumu jumps up to wrap his arms around Daisuke’s neck, fully expecting his boyfriend to support the surprise shift in weight. Flowers held in one hand as he hugs Daisuke, soft lips crash against his partner’s, Ayumu’s smile slipping into a more comfortable kiss with a happy hum. Thanking Daisuke with the bubblegum-flavored warmth of his kiss, gloss is left behind when Ayumu pulls away, acting as faint proof that he was there... Peppering some more proof across Daisuke’s mouth and cheeks, he then pulls away so he can look Daisuke in the eyes and playfully say,  ❝  I'd love to go on a date with you, Daisuke~  ❞  

❝  And please, feel free to call me Ayumu.  ❞      「 ☆ 」

[not-bcring]

"If you keep hugging that rabbit like that, I'm going to start thinking you like it more than me," Hitoshi commented off-handedly. Despite his complaining, he actually thought Ken'ichi looked especially adorable with the stuffed animal that was almost as big as he was. Even more so than when the boy had first spotted it, and Hitoshi just had to get it for him. Whatever backlash his luck caused after winning it first try would be worth it. At least, that's what he thought until he saw the candle being knocked from its lantern toward the smaller one. Acting before he could even think, he pulled Ken out of the way, blocking him from the blaze with his own body. (Now it's your turn for angst.) -  ✩   「 @nickelsdrocs 」   ✩  

「 ☆ 」 This is Ken's first time at a Festival and he's already excited for the next one. And the next and the next... Part of him— the part that hasn't drowned its common sense in sugary drinks —fervently reminds himself that he doesn't KNOW if there will be a next one; let alone a string of them. He should put all his focus on this date visit ( which, to be fair, he IS ) and not get his hopes too high ( which, unfortunately, he is failing at ). There's no telling when the novelty of showing off for his fuck-toy turned... friend pet lover regular-toy, will wear off and Hitoshi might set his sights to more entertaining places. Although it's hard to think of anything being more entertaining than himself, Ken'ichi can't believe it won't happen.

Squeezing his giant plush as if his life depends on it, giddy smile buried into its soft form, he scoffs at Hitoshi's comment. Rolling his eyes, the playful brattiness doesn't hit quite as hard when paired with his flushed features or the sparkle within green hues. ❝ Well, it is more fun to cuddle with... and Pocket doesn't make smart-ass remarks either~ ❞ He teases, sticking his tongue out at Hitoshi to really drive the point home, his heart-shaped stud— a familiar blue one chosen for today instead of his usual multi-colored —twinkling in the light.

And then that light gets too close.

Abruptly yanked out of harm's way— a stark difference from always being thrust INTO it —Ken doesn't have time to process what's happening until it's already over. Fire taking hold of Hitoshi's clothes as if it has a personal vendetta against him ( from what Ken'ichi knows of the others luck, maybe it does ) Ken utters a panicked, ❝ Shit! ❞ before hastily trying to pat out the flames. Pocket dropped upon the ground out of harm's way, small but quick hands attempt to beat back the fire on their own; Ken paying no heed to the sting in his palms. A blessed moment of clarity, and a bit of luck in his outfit choice, makes Ken shuffle off his oversized jacket; stolen from Hitoshi as ❛ extra payment ❜ earlier in their relationship agreement.

Using it to aid in smothering the flames, he makes quick work of the rest. Adrenaline overwhelming his small form, fueled by confusion and fear and gut-wrenching guilt, he tries to steady his breathing. Scent of burnt fabric and flesh not helping the nausea in his knot-addled stomach, he spares a breath to look over Hitoshi to make sure he is still breathing ( of course he is, it was just a little.... fire ) before impulsively shoving the other man before he can think better of it. At least he has sense enough to avoid the singed areas, although Ken's reddened palms aren't happy about the contact, ❝ What the fuck?! Why did you DO that? ❞

Tears brimming in his eyes, there's little comfort in the fact they don't fall. ❝ What kind of idiot purposely lets themself get set on FIRE?? ❞ Never mind that, from Ken'ichi's anger, it's pretty clear he's the kind of idiot who would have preferred to get set ablaze instead. But that's a completely different situation. It wouldn't have mattered if it was him. But with Hitoshi— with his LUCK, it could have gone very differently if fate had decided to be crueler to both of them... 「 ☆ 」

[not-bcring]

"H-Hey.... Angel?... Angel, are you alright?" Daisuke asked, noticing his boyfriend unstable state as soon as he entered the other's dorm. Carefully approaching him to make sure he knew he was there but not so loud as to scare him, he looked in Ayumu's dazed but panicked eyes. "Ayumu, are you with me? You need to take slow, deep breaths." But when that didn't garner a response, Daisuke started to fumble for things to do. He didn't really know how to comfort someone, especially someone in this state. Though maybe, if he couldn't bring Ayumu to the waking world, he could bring him to a better one. Adjusting his voice to the one he uses in his ASMR videos, he said, "Welcome to my Angel Wing Parlor. Is this your first time getting your wings?" -  ✩   「 @nickelsdrocs 」   ✩  

「 ☆ 」 He doesn't know why he answers her calls. Yes he does. Because he owes her for everything she's done for him. Why he puts himself through this on a weekly basis. Because he's scared that she's right and if he lets her slip through his fingers, he'll eventually end up alone when everyone else realizes how horrid he is too. Why he lets her hateful concerned words sink in so deeply. Piercing his chest and latching on as if barbed, gnarled opinions feeling as if they're shredding him to pieces. Because it's true. Terrible as it is to hear, she's RIGHT... She's always been right.

Sitting on his dorm room floor, cellphone lies by the wall he'd thrown it to as soon as he finished uttering bye. Screen cracked, it lies there in blessed quiet. Not due to announce his mother calling for another seven days... and then this can happen all over again. And again. And again and again and again and AGAI—

Hands clasped over his ears, fingers dig into messy pink locks with a vengeance; as if he can still hear the tell-tale ringing. Still hear HER. Eyes stuck open yet seeing nothing, bitter tears cascade down his cheeks; face flushed with anger, with shame. Chest heaving as he fails to catch his breath, to steady the wretched shaking of his body, it only grows WORSE the longer he goes. Fueled by his frustration at not being able to stop. He has to stop. He needs to stop. He can stop.

He can. He can, he can, he can, he can, he can't, he CAN'T STOP—

He needs... He has to— before someone can see him. Before he has to explain. Before he CAN'T explain. Before they get upset with him for it. Fuck, what if Daisuke sees him? What would he think? What would Ayumu say? How could he... He'll see Ayumu for the confused, cowardly cockwhore he is. He'll realize Ayumu is not as strong as he thinks. As Ayumu claims. Every time he looked at the smaller male, he'd remember this. Daisuke is so... nice. So sweet and self-sacrificial. Maybe he'd stick around because he feels sorry for him. For the pretty little pathetic plaything—

... Someone is talking.

A new voice, breaking through the screeching haze. It's familiar... Foggy but familiar. Ayumu can't quite place it but... he wants to. Needs to. It's a good voice. A safe voice. Different from the ones CLAWING at Ayumu's mind, making his brain bleed out his eyes in the form of hot, salty tears. Please don't stop. Don't stop talking. Whoever it is... Don't leave him. Don't leave him, Daisuke. Trembling, he fights to steady his breathing, sporadic gasps easing into something more manageable... Wanting to better hear the voice. To follow it wherever it's going and out of this Hell. 「 ☆ 」