#⭒ ˙ ˖ ✧ — ˗ˏˋ ❝ ᴀᴍ ɪ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴛʜᴀɴ ʏᴏᴜ ʙᴀʀɢᴀɪɴᴇᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ʏᴇᴛ? ❞ ¦ 「 Takemichi IC 」

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✩     「   @wrinkled-sheets-and-sunlight​​​​   」    ✩   -   Continued from ★

「 ☆ 」   Takemichi should have probably knocked... He usually DID. Why now of all times he hadn't, the little biker isn't sure. Maybe it was due to the excitement overwhelming him as he rushed in to tell Mondo the latest news. Having learned of the existence of a DIAMOND FRUITCAKE— the dessert made by a fellow Japanese pastry chef, taking 6 months to bake and costing over 1.65 million —he had to tell the fellow Crazy Diamond. It was too perfect of a name NOT to.

Standing in the doorway, having blurted out something related to a Diamond Fruitcake but not the right sort, Takemichi decides to blame this turn of events on homophobic fate. Because nothing aside from a vengeful, gay-bashing deity could possibly hate Michi THIS much...

Face flushed red at the sight of Mondo poorly pleasuring himself ( for reasons Takemichi has an idea about ) entire body stiffens, including a troublesome little friend in his own pants, as his brain fights to remember how to breathe. With AIR being a difficulty, it's a miracle he manages to duck in time to avoid being smacked in the face. Especially since his gaze had unwittingly roamed from Mondo's glistening fingers to his bulging muscles instead. Yelping as he avoids the pillow projectile, shrill sound sends a fresh shudder of shame through his body.

❝ Fuck! Yeah, I can fuckin' TELL! ❞ Michi irritably retorts to Mondo's complaint, gaze snapping from the pillow back to Mondo to further bitch him out. Apparently having forgotten the ISSUE with that, cheeks heat up further with a strained— ❝ Shit. ❞ —as Michi hastily turns on his heel to try and give Mondo some semblance of privacy. If that's even possible to have between them after what Takemichi wandered into. Realizing that the door is still ajar, he mutters profanities and SLAMS it shut before anyone else can catch a glimpse of what they shouldn't.

... With him still standing on this side of the door.

❝ Oh, you've got to be fuckin' kiddin' me. ❞ Michi groans, resting his forehead against the door with a thud. Sucking in a sharp and not-thought-through breath, he spins around again and snaps, ❝ Y'know what? No. Okay— No. This is NOT my fault! And I'm not gonna be th' only one makin' an ass of myself over it! ❞ Not sure why he's even still talking instead of racing down the hallway and into traffic, Michi rests a hand over his chest and yaps with all the intimidation of a small dog, ❝ 'Cause I do want somethin'! I can't exactly remember what it WAS anymore, but I did have somethin' to tell ya! ❞

❝ So— So, whatever it was— I'm sure it would have been worth me bargin' in unannounced! Which wouldn't have even been an issue if you weren't busy gettin' your rocks off! ❞ Unsure what the point of this self-righteous speech is, Michi wonders if he's arguing for the sake of getting Mondo to say something— ANYTHING —or whether he just... doesn't want to leave. As if staying here any longer will accomplish anything other than making a fool of himself. 「 ☆ 」

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Despite being in no shape to be in a kitchen, Mondo pushed his way through the cafeteria to where he had no doubt in his mind Takemichi would be found, every student giving the biker a wide berth as the scent of blood and dirt mixed with the pleasant scent emitting from the ovens. "Michi! I need your help, those bastards from the Tunnel Snakes tried jumpin' me again, 'n y'know how bad I am with all that medicine shit." Shouted without a care in the world, Mondo made to toss a bag onto the counter before thinking better of it, it instead being set down with surprising care from a man so big. "They busted up th' eggs you asked me t' get too, had to go back t' get knew ones. Gave me a chance to get bandages 'n shit though, so I guess it worked out fine." -  ✩   「 @the-ultimate-muses 」   ✩  

「 ☆ 」 Engrossed in his baking, the entire kitchen permeates the rich smell of fresh goods in the midst of creation. Having taken over the space— he hadn't forced anyone to step aside, that just tends to happen when a member of the Crazy Diamonds enters a room —ingredients of all kinds dirty the counters, floor, even the walls from where Takemichi had become a bit clumsily-enthusiastic. Perfectly capable of keeping things clean when cooking, Takemichi doesn't spare the extra thought or energy today. It'd been a hectic one and he's actually looking forward to the therapy of cleaning up a destroyed space once he's finished.

It's satisfying, seeing something made BETTER than it was. Even if, as per usual, he's the cause of the problem... Speaking of making things better—

Sparing a glance in Mondo's direction, the others ragged appearance doesn't seem to surprise the fellow biker. He smelt the blood. Kneading dough with small but powerful hands, he happily shouts back ( as if they aren't well within hearing range of each other ) ❝ Oh FUCK yeah! Great timing, Mon. 'Cause I just used the last of the eggs I had. ❞ Brushing his hands together in a puff of flour, he wipes them on his apron and heads over to inspect the carefully delivered bag. Checking out the carton with an equally delicate touch, he continues as if the other isn't bleeding beside him, ❝ And these are much better than the shitty ones they had here. ❞

❝ Seriously, you'd think a school this ❛ prestigious ❜ would know the right kind of eggs to get. ❞ He scoffs, rolling his eyes as he takes the carton out of the bag. Grabbing a roll of the bandages that Mondo mentioned, he lightly tosses them to the biker and hastily adds, ❝ Hey, hey— go hang out over there, would ya? I don't want you bleeding by the food. ❞ Snapping his fingers and pointing at a counter designated for empty, batter covered bowls, he doesn't even wait to see if Mondo listens to him. Distracted by the dinging of an alarm, he rushes over to one of the many ovens he's using. Nearly burning his hands before he remembers that he needs oven mitts, he hisses out a curse before putting on a pair made to look like dinosaurs.

Pulling out a large sheet of cupcakes, he sets them down and studies their tops. All perfect... as expected. One doesn't make as many cupcakes as HE has in life without picking up some tricks. Taking off his mitts, he calls out over his shoulder with a cheeky grin, ❝ 'Ey Mondo, you still alive over there or did you bleed out? ❞ Now that his cupcakes are safe to cool down, Takemichi heads over to keep his boss from dying before he has the chance to try one. 「 ☆ 」

[not-bcring]

from-across-the-stars:

Though it sounded like a heavy load, Axel only scoffed at the large order, a hand coming to playfully rest on his hip with a roll of his eyes. “Pssh, yeah I can make that much fucking dick candy, who d’ya think you’re talkin’ to?” The very idea had him giddy, maybe Michi would let him be there when he handed them out too, that would be hilarious. 

Though giving at laugh at the choice of words, Axel couldn’t help the flutter in his chest at it all the same. ‘Jus’ gimme your word, as a man’ He had perhaps been waiting his entire life for a phrase such as that, and here it was in the same sentence as a request for dick candy.

He wouldn’t have it any other way. 

“Fuck yeah, I’ll give you my word! Hell, I can do ya one better!” Sticking a hand into his sweatshirt pocket, Axel pulled free a small baggy of said dick candy, tied up nice and sweet with a little bow and shiny rainbow cellophane. “If we swing by t’ store while we’re out, I’ll even let ya pick out some ribbon for the guys.” He said with a smirk as he tossed the bag Michi’s way. “And I’m down for anything that’ll piss off my parents.” All they saw him as was a meal ticket, a personal slave for their candy store, it would already upset them to learn of his…changes in life, dress and attitude so very different from when he lived at home, but to find out he not only used his talent to make dick candy and traded some for a ride on the back of a gang member’s motorcycle? Oh, he could feel the disappointment already. At least it was something…

「 ☆ 」   Snickering at the others boast, he rests a hand on his hip and cocks a brow. Tone lathered with a returned playfulness, he quickly retorts,  ❝  Hey, I don’t exactly know your track record. Maybe you’re just a lotta talk~  ❞  Frankly, he can tell the other isn’t simply spewing bullshit. There are different types of boasting and Takemichi likes to think that he’s pretty good at deciphering between them. Some people are like small dogs, trembling as they posture by barking loudly and baring what little fangs they have. Trying to seem bigger and more capable than they actually are. Then there are those who just- are.

Who make claims because they know they can live up to them. Simple as that. 

Yeah, maybe this claim is about something as small and stupid as dick candy. But it’s less about the WHAT and more about the sense of ‘ who ’ that Takemichi is getting from this conversation. This guy seems alright and in a world like this one, it’s always a relief to find someone who is actually alright. 

Sputtering at the sight of the candy bag— no. Candy sack; the word sack is funnier in this context. He’s still  laughing as he catches the sack with ease, wiping at his eyes before admiring the cute yet crude item carefully cupped in his palm.  ❝  This is th’ gayest thing I’ve ever seen... and I’ve seen a LOTTA gay shit.  ❞  Clearly a compliment, he pulls off the ribbon so that he can reach the candy inside, shamelessly popping one of the little dicks into his mouth,  ❝  Gayest thing I’ve ever tasted too.  ❞  He says while chewing, a predictable smirk forming as he quips,  ❝  Definitely th’ best dick I’ve had in my mouth.  ❞

Re-wrapping the ribbon so that candy won’t fall out, he shoves the bag into his jacket pocket and nods his head in the direction they need to go to reach his motorcycle. Already turning on his heel to head to where he keeps it, he glances over his shoulder,  ❝  Th’ name’s Takemichi. Takemichi Yukimaru. Figure you oughta know it if you’re gonna be ridin’ my bike...  ❞     「 ☆ 」 

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(( Tag Dump - Takemichi Yukimaru ))

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"Woah, no way! You're that biker guy, right? With the Crazy Diamonds??" Try as he may to look tough, Axel resembled nothing more than a ray of sunshine in this moment, a kid in a...well, candy store. "Hey, how much candy would I have'ta make ya to get you to take me on a ride? I've always wanted to ride a motorcycle, but my parents said they were too dangerous." The complaint is said before a raspberry was blown, the confectioner obviously a bit bitter towards his parents for more than just that. If one could even call them  parents... "Seriously though, I'll make you anything you want. Taffy, peppermints, bubblegum, those little candies shaped like dicks, you name it, I'll make it!" //i offer my confectioner boi for ur diamond boi uwu

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

「 ☆ 」   When someone calls out to him, Takemichi instinctively tenses. Hands, shoved in his jacket pockets, clenched into awaiting fists as he snaps his head in the direction of the unfamiliar voice. Usually when his biker gang is mentioned, it means he has trouble coming his way. In a group as interwoven as theirs, distinction between the members isn’t common with observers. One of their problems is EVERYONE’S problem, blame often spilling from member to member. Especially the more well-known ones, those higher ranked having to take shit on behalf of their underlings.

If Takemichi had a nickel for every time he got thrust into a fight because of something stupid a fellow Diamond did— that he didn’t even know about beforehand —he’d be a rich man. Not that he can complain too much considering the trouble he gets into on his own. Still, it’s annoying to get dragged into a fight he didn’t intend to. Narrowed eyes riveted on the stranger, scarlet hues are strangely cold for their fiery color, only clearing when the newcomer mentions wanting a ride.

Calculating gaze lifting into a more natural one, posture relaxes from cornered animal to merely a confused one. It’s a stark switch, Takemichi quirking his head and resting his weight on his left leg. Hardly positioned to leap into a fight should the stranger be lulling him into a false sense of security. But Takemichi never cared for overly-suspicious types, making damn sure that if he was glaring someone down they had earned it. Or had yet to make a first impression at all, everyone jotted down as a danger by default. But that’s not being overly cautious. That’s just having a desire to live.

Nothing wrong with that.

Sputtering at the raspberry, hand clamps over his mouth to stifle his laughter. Not out of any respect but simply because he didn’t want to interrupt the others interesting spiel. Amusing would be an understatement, Takemichi having known this guy for five seconds and already considering him one of the best conversationalists he’s ever interacted with. He can’t claim to know anyone else who blew a raspberry and mentioned dick candy before even uttering a name. Hell, he can’t think of anyone else who has mentioned dick candy to him at all.

Wondering if his sexuality is common knowledge around Hope’s Peak or if he just looks that obviously gay, Takemichi asks through a smirk,  ❝  Think you could make enough dick candies t’ satisfy an entire biker gang? Because I’ve never thought’a handin’ those out before, but now I think it’d be fuckin’ hilarious.  ❞  Not that the gang has any problem with someone enjoying the taste of dick. Plenty of them do… but he’s willing to bet none of them would expect to be handed one in candy form out of nowhere.

❝  Tell ya what- Jus’ gimme your word, as a man, that you’ll give me an’ th’ guys some tasty dick—  ❞  Yes he knows how that sounds. It’s hilarious and the juvenile laughter that laces it shows that he thinks it’s hilarious,  ❝  —an’ I’ll take you for a ride right fuckin’ now.  ❞  Some might think him stupid for making the deal this way. There’s no guarantee the other will keep to it. But Takemichi prefers things this way. Helps him know who is worth his time and who isn’t worth being kicked with his boots. It’s not like he’s giving up too much anyway.

The guy’s asking for a ride, not his soul.

❝  If you’re int’ it, I’ll even make it extra dangerous... As a personal li’l fuck you t’ your parents.  ❞  That doesn’t mean anything more than going a bit faster than he probably should and popping a few tricks while he’s at it. Takemichi might like the rush of adrenaline, but he isn’t about to start swerving around traffic or jumping things that aren’t meant to be jumped. Not with someone else on his bike, anyway. Confident as he is in his skills, he’s not one to toy with someone else’s life. That’s WAY too much responsibility for a screw-up like him.   「 ☆ 」