#⭒ ˙ ˖ ✧ — ˗ˏˋ ❝ ᴅɪɴɢ ᴅᴏɴɢ; ʙɪɴɢ ʙᴏɴɢ: ᴀ ʙᴏᴅʏ ʜᴀꜱ ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴅɪꜱᴄᴏᴠᴇʀᴇᴅ! ❞ ¦ 「 Queue 」

[not-bcring]

(For Nico, from you know who~🧡🐴) He still didn't like those stupid minnows. At the same time, though, the relaxation room was the last place anyone would look for him at the moment. The rest of them were all busy on the first floor with Levi—Ace felt his insides twist at the thought—and while he knew they'd probably come looking for him at some point once Teruko spilled the beans to them, he wasn't in any hurry to be found if he could help it. More twisting of his insides brought a hand to his chest with a sharp inhale. He had no idea how it happened; probably some of Teruko's bullshit luck. All he knew is that one second he was on death's door from a heart attack, and then the next he had bolted back to life and everyone besides Teruko had managed to finally leave the trial grounds and get Levi to safety. He and Teruko hadn't spoken in the elevator; probably more of her discomfort about riding with another person. Especially one who had, by all definitions of the word, died. Probably why she didn't complain when he'd bolted out on the second floor and barreled straight for the only room that didn't dredge up any bad memories. Gym was no good, playground was worse— His hand fell as he exhaled a shudder. After everything that'd happened, after everything he'd done, he was still here. Still alive. He should've been relieved. And yet he couldn't stop his entire body from shaking as he stared hard, furiously at those stupid, stupid minnows—flashes of his failed execution pounding at the inside of his skull. It was over. He'd survived. So why was he more terrified than ever, reliving every horrible fakout, over and over again, until— The sound of footsteps approaching the room jolted him to his feet, fists instinctively balling and breath hitched as he waited for whoever it was to finally enter the room. "What the fuck do you want?!" The growl in his town was more aggressive than ever, like that of a cornered dog or other beast. Just go away, just go away, just— And then a familiar sight of dark blue and a mop of hair so eerily similar to that of a cat's ears had him retreating further until his back hit the wall. God fucking damn it. Why did it have to be them? Why now? - ✧ ˖ ˙ 「 @hayleysmuses 」 ˙ ˖ ✧  

「 ☆ 」 Soon as they started to leave the room where the others were huddled— worriedly waiting as Arturo performed what was to either be a miracle or a futile grab to prevent tragedy —Nico had begun to feel better. Able to breathe air that wasn’t tainted by worried murmurings or thick with suffocating tension. To shed the uncomfortable tingling in the back of their neck, as if a million eyes were upon them despite there being none of the sort. Stomach churning from the discomfort of sitting in such close quarters to people. Let alone people who would have been DEAD if they weren’t a failure… They’re glad to have failed. Mostly.

But still, it’s a shift in perspective not easily shaken. Maybe never.

Selfish as it is, concern for Levi couldn’t outweigh the desire to leave. Provably because there wasn’t much to begin with. Frankly, Nico can’t fully understand the others’ plight. Which doesn’t help with their growing suspicion that they’re a terrible person. Even Ace, who makes a point of establishing hatred for everyone, had been frantic when Levi’s life was in peril. Perhaps guilt played a big factor in that, but it feels unfair to use that as an excuse to dismiss the jockey’s sacrifice. Ironically, the one who would understand Nico’s detachment from the situation would be Levi. He wouldn’t judge them for fleeing the situation in favor of solitude. Hell, he had admitted to being fine if ANY of them died.

Nico can understand that as well, from a logical position. Even if they can’t exactly relate. Plenty of animals work under similar circumstances. Loyal to those who are around but quick to move on when death claims a loved one. It’s the natural order of things, with Levi simply prone to a more extreme version of such tendencies.

Making their way to the relaxation room, Nico grimaces at the sight they know awaits. Arei wasn't the only victim, insignificant as the other lives may be considered in comparison. To their peers. But Nico figures they have no place to judge. After being prepared to throw away the lives of their classmates, it'd be hypocritical to condemn someone over the casualties of fish. Maybe there's a balance to it... The others can shoulder the concern for human life, while Nico is burdened with worrying about the animals sharing their imprisonment. Everyone is cared for.

Whether people think it matters or not.

"What the fuck do you want?!"

Skidding to a halt— nearly stumbling forward from the action —breath hitches at the sound of... his voice. But that couldn't be. As far as Nico is aware, Ace had perished. Struck down as a means of getting Levi the medical attention he needed. More or less. Swallowing thickly, Nico takes a tentative step forward. Shoulders raise as if that'd stave off the chill creeping up their spine, shaky hands moving in tandem to cover their mouth. Trying to stifle the shallow sound of their breath, chest pushes in quick bursts to match their rapid heart. Convinced it must be a trick of the mind. A guilt-laden apparition after the events of the Trial. After so much was revealed; all of the accusations... the bloodshed...

Anyone would be feeling unsettled. Right?

But enough to hear a voice from the recently deceased—?

Peeking their head into the room like a wary animal, a choked sound catches in their throat when wide eyes fixate upon none other than— ❝ B-But... you're dead. ❞ They weakly croak, words barely audible past the fabric of their hoodie. A shiver notably courses through their body, ebony hair fluffing as if the fur of a cat. Blinking back tears, fogged vision does nothing to aid their mind in wrapping around the ghostly visage before them. One made of flesh and blood and unmistakable LIFE... which is somehow far more terrifying a concept. ❝ We all saw you die. ❞

Tone sounds accusatory, panic coming across as confrontation as Nico voices their confusion in an unfortunate way, ❝ Why aren't you dead?? ❞ 「 ☆ 」

[not-bcring]

「 ☆ 」 The solution feels obvious as soon as Braidyn says it and part of Kanade feels like kicking herself for not considering that. Of course he'd share with her. He's Braidyn, and it's not like it's uncommon for friends to do. Another part of her, far more empathetic to the plight tangling her thoughts and causing her to spew stupid concerns about a forgotten bag, understands why she hadn't considered it. Because she simply couldn't. Not without being faced with the unfortunate truth that borrowing Braidyn's clothes makes her stomach knot in a way it hadn't before.

Back when their friendship was simpler. Still odd to have another person to rely on who WASN'T bound to her by the blood unwantingly flowing through their veins. But Kanade could come to terms with this strangeness. Grow to accept it as an unforeseen change but one she can navigate. It was the discovery that friendship wasn't where the feelings stopped— at least for her —that abruptly made everything feel far more precarious. Outwardly, NOTHING had changed... But hidden from sight, everything was suddenly unfamiliar again. Even coming to terms with why her own body never felt quite right only brought about more concerns.

Kanade knows there's no choice but to borrow her friend's pajamas. But to act normal while vividly aware of how they feel against her skin, of how they mimic a sense of closeness to Braidyn that can ironically only be found in the escape of sleep. It's a Hell of her own making, she supposes. Punishment for letting her emotions get the better of her. Whether she means forgetting her own clothes or these pesky desires in general, she isn't sure... She hasn't been sure of a lot lately.

But she IS certain about one thing, at least.

❝ Let's go get some ice-cream. ❞ Kanade runs a hand through her hair, moving aside dyed strands so she can better see Braidyn. She's been experimenting with letting it grow out, testing the waters to see how it looks. It hasn't gotten long enough to raise many eyebrows, still considered a length some ❛ boys ❜ could prefer. But it's still thrilling to feel it touch her shoulders. To think about it someday flowing down her back, long enough to style however she pleases. Braidyn would probably like it if she did. Not that HE'S the reason for the choice... but it's a nice perk, nonetheless.

❝ Maybe I'll even get two scoops... ❞ She adds, a tinge of bitterness to her tone as she briefly looks to the side. Twirling a strand of hair around her finger, she doesn't elaborate any further, but it shouldn't be too difficult to guess. Not for someone who has been around the twins and food at least once. Hibiki is hardly subtle about her opinions when it comes to what Kanade eats, how much she eats, that she's ❛ morbidly obese ❜ because of it. Insults that are difficult to shake off, however much Kanade tries to rebel against them... when around Braidyn. And never her sister.

❝ Come on, we can race there. ❞ Kanade adds in an attempt to shake-off her earlier slip in composure, forcing a lighter tinge to her tone. It's easy enough for someone like her, so accustomed to masking her true emotions in favor of what is needed. With a teasing grin, she flips her hair and rests a hand on her hip, ❝ I'm so confident that I'll get there first, I'll even let you decide what the stakes are. ❞ Unlike before with the basketball, she's determined to know for sure that she gave it her all... If she bikes hard enough, maybe she'll even treat herself to a third scoop. 「 ☆ 」

“You’re fine, Knockout. Don’t worry about it. You can always just use my stuff.”

The offer is thoughtless, obvious. Of course Braidyn will share with Kanade. Why wouldn’t he? If it ends up meaning that later his stomach knots at the sight of Kanade in his pajamas, he’ll live. He doesn’t even think of that for now. Just like he doesn’t think of how the nickname, which comes from Kanade’s initials, K.O., might sound flirtatious to outsiders. He has a nickname for everyone. Even if Kanade is just Kanade in his head, it would feel way too intimate to use his first name out loud all the time.

He dribbles the ball idly, comfortably, less as a game and more as something to do with his hands. Kanade could probably steal it back. Braidyn doesn’t think he will. 

It occurs to Braidyn that the days are only going to get shorter from here, and the two of them should probably do something with their daylight. Especially since the TV has been picker lately about what it means to hit it “just right” and make it work, and the gas stations are stricter about their loitering policies once school is in session. Not that Braidyn is gonna invite Kanade to the gas station, even if it is a kinda nice bike ride and you can get sodas for less than a dollar. No, it’s not impressive enough.

He likes impressing Kanade a lot. Makes him feel all proud in his chest, like he did something right for once, like he won. Plus something else, something he hasn’t placed yet. 

“You wanna do something before the sun sets? Kale left his bike behind, so I’ve got two until he comes back for it. We could head down to the skate park or the ice cream stand or whatever. I’m game for anything.”

[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]

"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. 「 ☆ 」

[not-bcring]

「 ☆ 」 It hadn't taken much pestering for Kyle to take out the guitar... None, in fact, aside from a purred question and pleading eyes. Having waited until the place was clear— as much as Nico loves their partners, there are still times when they'd like the serenity of a calm room ( which can sometimes be difficult to achieve, which is why moments like this HAVE to be acted upon ) —they are now reaping the rewards of their patience. With more bound to come as the moment stretches on.

Pair upon the bed, one sitting with a guitar and the other laying on their side, air is filled with the albeit clumsy but pleasing sound of Kyle's music. Languid upon the blanket, cheek smushed on the arm it rests upon and eyes heavily-lidded in a picturesque embodiment of calm, soft rumbles drift from their chest. Intermingling with the gentle notes and voice, offering unintended accompaniment to the others performance... To Nico's private performance.

Honestly, Nico always had a fondness for music... and an undeniable appreciation for those who create it. They hadn't considered it an attraction until learning they were capable of such emotions. A feeling that remains exclusive to their partners, Nico not experiencing this... warmth when it comes to other musicians. Admiration is still there, Nico awestruck at the ability to pursue the creative avenue. But it doesn't make their heart pound in this manner. Blood rush to their face, painting pale complexion a fond rose. Eyes shine as though gazing up at the one who invented the concept of music. Rather than someone who used to be in a band as a child.

When the song drifts to its inevitable close, Nico deeply sighs into the silence. A soft, drawn-out, lovestruck sound from the depths of their chest. Basking in the afterglow of having a song played for them— simple acts never failing to have immense impact upon the starved catthey —Nico slowly blinks ( trust radiating from the gesture ) as they gaze up at Kyle, overhead light of the room enveloping the tall man's head in an ethereal glow. ❝ ... That was beautiful. ❞ 「 ☆ 」

Open RP - Kyle Villanueva

Looks like someone remembered he knew how to play guitar, Kyle a bit unpracticed seeing as he hadn't played nor sung in half a decade, but the underlying skill bleeds through regradless.

[not-bcring]

Daisuke pulled Ayumu into his lap as soon as they were in the secrecy of Ayumu's own room. Kissing his cheeks, lips, ears, and everywhere he could reach, he said, "I'm sorry I couldn't give you the attention you deserved during game night. I wanted to so badly... I just couldn't. You're not mad at me, are you?" ( Time for some wreckage to make up for not giving him attention earlier. ) - ✧ ˖ ˙ 「 @ncughty-uwu 」 ˙ ˖ ✧

「 ☆ 」 As soon as they were away from prying eyes, Ayumu knew that his boyfriend's demeanor would change... One of the realities of being in a secret relationship, affection not able to be easily given. However, this time, he wasn't sure if the switch would be for the better. Not that he thought Daisuke would ever be CRUEL or dangerous toward him. But no one is immune to frustration and it wouldn't be outside of Daisuke's rights to snap at him for the events of the day.

So imagine Ayumu's surprise when he's tugged onto his partner's lap and covered with an abundance of kisses... and an apology.

Relief battles with guilt, weighing heavily in his stomach as he cups Daisuke's face in his hands and offers a smile. Genuine in that his boyfriend deserves it but hiding an underlying worry, no matter how much Ayumu tries to mask it. ❝ Of course I'm not mad at you, honey... I understand why you couldn't and— you didn't need to. You're not required to shower me with attention all the time. ❞ Even if their games oftentimes beg to differ. ❝ And especially not when there's other people around. ❞

Not until Daisuke is ready.

❝ Honestly? ❞ He begins, smile faltering... before it slips entirely, ❝ I... thought you might be mad at me. ❞ Hands fall from Daisuke's face to lightly grip his shirt instead, gaze following them. ❝ I know I can be... a lot, and I— ... With my reputation, it's— strange if I don't, y'know... When people offer for me to do things like- sit in their laps or... I just— ❞ Grimacing as he fumbles over his words and the nausea in his stomach, cheeks flush with shame. ❝ I don't like having to ignore you sometimes because others want my attention... ❞

If he wasn't such a— ... If people weren't so quick to hone in on him, he could offer more secret affection to Daisuke. Instead of having to drape himself over other guys so no one would question why Ayumu was turning down the affection he very vocally claims he deserves and clearly WANTED.

Green hues flit up to meet Daisuke's eyes, Ayumu swallowing thickly, ❝ Having a secret relationship is already hard enough... being in one with me must be— ... ❞ Even worse. ❝ ... I'm- sorry. For making things more difficult for you. ❞ 「 ☆ 」

[not-bcring]

「 ☆ 」 Whit patiently waits for Charles to regain his voice, gentle smile unwavering as his hold around the other's hand. It was a similar feeling the first time Whit was privy to Charles's tendency to disassociate because of blood. A secret tension in his frame, expertly hidden behind kind eyes and a calming nature. Tightness in Whit's chest as he wonders how long it may take Charles to come back after what they witnessed for that damn Punishment. If only he had done more instead of just-

No point in lamenting about what he didn't do. Best to spend his energy on what he can do. Right now, that means staying by Charles's side. Keeping him grounded, keeping him safe, providing the other whatever protection he can't supply himself right now. Like in the first trial, when he acted as Charles's voice. Honestly, Whit hadn't expected their relationship to continue past that. Not to this degree. To have shifted the way it did. What was a sense of obligation, from a moral standpoint and amends he had to make, now a true desire.

They're... friends.

A thought that brings a bittersweet warmth to Whit's chest, no matter how weighed down it may be with worry. A sensation he's willing to endure any hardship for. Charles needing to sink to his knees is hardly a surprise, and Whit doesn't draw attention to it. After what they witnessed, he is already beyond proud of Charles managing to even leave the Trial room on such unsteady legs. The others might not realize what a feat was just completed— it's probably best they don't, for the sake of Charles's pride —but Whit does. So he shows as much with a small squeeze around the others hands, a silent show of support for whatever Charles needs to do in order to feel better in the moment.

❝ Heh... Yeah. I don't doubt it. ❞ Chimes a relieved reply, shoulders lightly shaking from the breathy chuckle that laces his words. Good. Charles is talking... Swallowing the instinctive joke that Levi has definitelybeen better, he moves a hand toward Charles. Hesitating, fingers curl inward for a beat, before they gingerly brush a strand of purple from the other's face. That's probably fine... Already lamenting his very much NOT ❛ fine ❜ desire to rest their foreheads together, Whit is forced to make due with what contact feels appropriate.

Tucking the hair behind Charles's ear, his own silken strands fall in a gentle motion when he cocks his head; like a golden-furred retriever, fondly beholding their person as he says, ❝ That's alright. We'll just stay here until things start to feel less... y'know. ❞ Blue hues soft, he huffs out another weak laugh when he realizes that he let his touch linger a bit longer than intended. Hand leaving Charles's hair, he lets it rejoin the other in clasping Charles's hand instead. There. Don't want to risk making Charles uncomfortable when he's already dealing with this.

❝ There's absolutely nooooo rush. I've got all the time in the world~ ❞ Despite how arguably untrue that is— for a number of reasons —Whit seems to mean it. 「 ☆ 」

@not-bcring asked:

In the chaos following the elevator doors finally opening, everyone rushing in and out while seconds passed by with the intensity of a knife slowly pressing against ones neck... there hadn't been opportunity to ask what he wanted. Question brewing in his chest, impatience pricked at the back of his neck as Whit willed events to go quicker. Battling between guilt at where his focus kept shifting and the worry for Levi that managed to break through the noise. Tainted as it may have been. Every frantic step was not fast enough for his liking, every brief glance Charles's way offering no respite to the worry... As soon as Whit is gifted the chance to grab onto Charles's arm— hand trailing down in a careful touch, to hold the others and give it a small squeeze —he wordlessly guides Charles to a less cramped area, seeking some semblance of privacy when in a space full of worried bystanders. Satisfied for the moment, he stands in front of Charles and releases a soft breath he hadn't realized he was keeping. Both hands now holding Charles's, he looks up at the taller male, worry shining in his gaze. Hardly a surprise considering the situation; someone is balancing on the edge of death, after all. With only a unqualified medical professional to help him. Yet Whit's words betray what actually weighs on his mind, ❝ How are you doing? ❞ ❛ Are you okay ❜ is hardly a question worth asking, since the answer is painfully obvious. There's no way Charles is okay... So Whit needs to see how not-okay he is, and do what he can about it. ❝ I know everything was... a lot, in there. ❞ - (( *boops a li'l thing* because Whit be worried rip ))

He desperately wished he had heeded Whit's warning sooner.

The sight of Levi diving into the line of fire, followed immediately by the sight of so much blood—so much more than he'd seen in the computer lab—had left Charles in a dissociated state for the entire elevator ride. It was a miracle he hadn't passed out by that point, likely due to the warmth that trails up his arm and through his body at the feeling of someone else's hand on his arm.

He doesn't need to tear his gaze from the wall ahead of him to know exactly who it is, relief blossoming through his chest. Just keep looking ahead, don't look at the blood—so much blood, so much blood—that painted Levi's body like the world's most unfortunate canvas beside him. Whit was there, he was okay. He just needed to—

He barely processes the elevator opening and the other's running out, attention sorely focused on that hand as he slips into his own and guides him in the opposite direction. He can feel his senses slowly returning, and he finally dares to focus his attention on Whit as he cups both hands around his own.

❝How are you doing?❞ He asks, like the completely selfless angel he is. After everything else that had happened, Whit's first concern was for him.

It takes a moment for Charles to find enough of his voice to answer, mostly due to him sinking to his knees with his hands around Whit's for dear life. "I've been better..."

It's more sarcastic than he means, but there's a bitter truth to it as well. But at least he has those hands—those warm, comforting hands to support him.

[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~ ❞ 「 ☆ 」

[not-bcring]

"You know, I always thought I knew wh-what I wanted and that I always got what I wanted. And then, everything I th-th-thought I wanted blew up in my face," Seto said hesitantly, eyes glancing between Shuichi and somewhere in the sky as if the clouds had written what he wanted to say. "N-nothing is like what I thought it was, including you."

"I'm realizing everything I thought I wanted was just what others told me I should want." What Ikuto told him he should want. "It was just what I needed to do to feel safe, feel like I had a home and someone who loved me. And some... some..  some part of me still feels that way. Like my body or my talent is the only reason someone would ever care about me, and that's okay as long as I get what I want!" He can feel the tears welling up in his eye, tears he thought had dried up a long time ago.

"B-b-but I don't even know if I can tell what I want anymore!... Except for one thing." Straightening up, he looked the other directly in the eye now as he took a few steps forward. He took the detective's hands in his. "Through all the confusion and doubt, I know I want one thing. I want you, and I want you to want me just as much. Not just sexually, but more than that."

With that, he took one final step forward into Shuichi's space, leaning to be close enough to feel his breath on his lips but never allowing them to touch, and he whispered teasingly, "But also, very sexually."

(Seto finally has an answer to Shuichi's confession after being freed. nickelsdrcocs or naughtydr depending on where you wanna take this.)

-  ✩   「 @naughtydr​ 」   ✩  

「 ☆ 」   It’s been a taxing few weeks for all of them. Emotionally and mentally draining, Shuichi struggling to keep his head above water while wave upon wave crashed over. People breathing down his neck, clawing at his reputation— rushing at the chance to bring down the renowned detective —and throwing anything they can at him to make things more difficult. They know. He KNOWS they do. At the very least, highly suspect Shuichi hasn’t been entirely forthcoming about the facts of the case and the mysterious massacre involved. 

But he hadn’t budged. If anything, he dug his heels in more firmly. Dirtied his hands further with ‘ information ’ he had tucked away ( precisely for moments like this ) about superiors, fellow investigators, anyone and everyone who posed a risk to him or anyone he was protecting. He wasn’t upfront about it. Never giving specifics. Never giving them anything they could use to incriminate him. Not that he can entirely stop the backlash of blackmail. But he knows. And they know... And no one else has to.

And... it’s worth it. Whatever he has to do is worth is, so long as it helps Seto.

Uncertain why the other man had wanted to meet him, Shuichi’s nerves had been going awry since he first received the message. Wondering what had gone wrong, what he had missed, what he needed to fix... Quick mind had thrown a million scenarios his way, each one more nauseating than the last. But reality was NOTHING like he had expected. Shuichi had tried so hard to keep from dwelling on his confession to Seto— not that it worked —that he hadn’t let himself even consider that he’d ever get a response to it.

But now, with the last lights of day streaming away to welcome the solemn night, he is.

As Seto speaks, Shuichi feels a weight in his chest, suffocating him with its familiarity. More than aware of what it can be like to not have safety guaranteed. To need to accept certain- realities... just to ensure a home and someone willing to give it to him. To feel cared about, even if it’s in a way that doesn’t feel entirely right. At least it’s SOMETHING. At least they can be considered something. To have people telling them what is best. To believe it. To NEED to. Because if they don’t... That just brings even more confusion and even more pain.

Feeling like their worth lies in what they can provide, and not who they are.

Overcome with an urge to wipe away Seto��s tears, he manages to keep his hands to himself, not wanting to make any unwanted contact. It’s hard though. Resisting the urge to touch him. Hug him. When Seto grabs his hands, Shuichi’s breath catches in his chest, wide eyes glossed over with tears he hadn’t wanted to shed. Trembling, his hands hold onto the other man’s, Shuichi shakily exhaling as he finds himself unable to break away from Seto’s gaze. He wants him... Seto wants him. He actually wants him? Heart pounding in his chest, he can barely hear Seto’s words over its internal racing... but he still hears them.

Tensing at the tease, he should have expected it, gaze briefly flits down to Seto’s lips. So close and yet keeping their distance. Letting Shuichi have that small shred of comfort. Skin flushed with a heat that doesn’t stay on his face where it belongs, Shuichi shakily swallows and tries to speak through light breaths. But words fail... Only able to be forced out when he tears his eyes away, looking to the side, watching the colors that have overtaken the sky,  ❝  I... I know what it’s- like... to feel your only worth comes from what you can- ... give people.  ❞  Hold on Seto’s hands grows a bit tighter, as if reassuring them both that it’s actually there.  ❝  But you... You don’t make me feel that way. You make me feel like- ... I’m enough.  ❞  

❝  Not my talent. Not my looks... Just- me.  ❞

Tongue flits across his lips, Shuichi swallowing a lump in his throat,  ❝  I trust you... and- ... I want you. All of you.  ❞  Colors fading into night, they reflect against ebony hair, illuminating the Detective with the final touches of day. Retreating in on himself, hair starts to further fall across his uncertain expression, a silken curtain that golden hues peek through as Shuichi looks back at Seto. Words quieter, he admits despite the unease settling in his gut,  ❝  And I want you to have me too... In- every way.  ❞  Honestly? He’s scared.

He’s so, so scared... 

But there will also never be a better moment to take this chance. Seto wants him. Really wants him. Than to TRY. If he can’t give himself to Seto- if he can’t... make good on his word. Prove that he trusts him. When will he ever be able to? He has to. Meekly looking at Seto, Shuichi can’t bring himself to say anything else. Gaze pleading for the other man to understand, for him to somehow make things alright, he just waits to see if Seto was serious about his words. Or if it was merely another tease, same as all the others. Did he mess this moment up?

Please, let him not mess this up.   「 ☆ 」 

[not-bcring]

Laying in one of the many trees on campus like a cat taking a nap on its back, Seto caught movement out of the corner of his eye as someone approached. A smirk appeared on his lips upon recognizing the poor soul, and he called down, "Now, what do I, lowly thief I am, owe the pleasure of basking in the presence of the Great Ultimate Detective? Surely, nothing I've done could be worthy of your attention."

As he spoke, he removed the navy cap resting on his head to wave around, the very same cap he had swiped from said detective that morning. (Seto wants to be a drama queen for you and Shuichi.)

-  ✩   「 @nickelsdrocs 」   ✩  

「 ☆ 」   Shuichi... would prefer to have his hat. 

Which might further prove why he shouldn’t have it. Kaede has been trying to encourage him to rely less on his makeshift shield, wanting Shuichi to grow more comfortable looking others in the eye. Having faith that he won’t see disgust or hatred or annoyance or any number of negative emotions he’s CERTAIN are reserved for him. He’s seen them so many times before. But it’s difficult taking that step. Even more-so when the choice is ripped away, the sudden absence of his hat only making Shuichi’s dependance upon it feel stronger than ever.

Still, this is- a good thing... It has to be. He has to look at it in that light, otherwise he might spiral into an even bigger panic than the uncomfortable tightness already in his chest.  ❛  This is good for you. This is good for you. This is good for you... ❜  Seto wouldn’t do this to you if he didn’t think it was good for you. Of course, he also could very easily— and more likely —not fully realize what he’s forced Shuichi to face. Open as Shuichi can be when it comes to certain- coping mechanisms, it’s always a guess whether other people actually understand it. If they did, Kaede wouldn’t be so confident about his ability to shed his hat, he’s certain of it.

Or perhaps, it’s Shuichi who is blind to what he’s capable of.

Head ducked and gaze flitting around like an animal searching for the closest cover, Shuichi hurries to his target, feeling his unease gradually lift the closer he gets to the tree. Looking at Seto, hat or no hat, hasn’t been difficult for a while now. Usually when his nerves spike because of the other man, it’s due to something the thief says or does. Not merely his company. Sucking in a shaky yet steadying breath, Shuichi aims a smile up at the troublemaker, a bit tired— from the emotional strain of being trapped in class without his hat —but still sincere.

Lightly laughing at Seto’s dramatics, he decides to lean into the game, curious to see what other quips the other man has at the ready. He can wait a bit longer to get his hat, so long as it’s for THIS conversation. Crossing his arms and tilting his head, Shuichi amusedly replies,  ❝  Oh really? Are you sure there’s nothing you could have possibly done to get my attention?  ❞  Seto having unlocked a side of Shuichi that few get to witness, the detective jokes,  ❝  You should give yourself more credit than that.  ❞     「 ☆ 」 

[not-bcring]

"Kokichi; holder of my heart, tamer of darkness, melter of the dreaded ice; did you perhaps borrow one of my sweaters recently? This one, to be percise?" Ducked behind his scarf, Gundham pulled at the front of a black hoodie worn under his usual coat with his bandaged hand before letting the fabric go in a slow deflate as it reconfirmed to its typical baggy state. "And did you perhaps partake in a bit of mischief while wearing it? Such as the theft of someone's keys? Motorcycle keys, to be more exact?" Where was he going with this- //once again kokichi gets to face the consequences of his own actions uwu -  ✩   「 @the-ultimate-muses 」   ✩  

「 ☆ 」 Kokichi is a notorious thief— allegedly notorious, since he’s never actually admitted to his crimes when cornered about them. Unless comedy required it, but even then he’s prone to flaunting his ill-gained trinket while still neglecting to outright say he ❛ stole ❜ it. Having spewed COUNTLESS confessions about fantastical heists that may-or-may-not have happened, people are more inclined to believe in what goes unsaid when it comes to the little troublemaker. So it’s not strange when he’s questioned about some missing keys… What is surprising is GUNDHAM being the one to mention it. Normally his boyfriends don’t so much as bat an eye to low-stakes shenanigans that don’t concern them.

Interest piqued with a near-missable tension in his shoulders, Kokichi buries the split-second of confusion by donning one of his best neutral masks. Perfect when either having some fun or putting up an instinctive barrier, Kokichi figures its vague purposes will help him stay ahead of whichever direction this conversation goes. Buttered up by sweet nicknames, a round-about method of inquiry, no discernible aggravation in his tone or body language…

Gundham doesn’t seem upset with him.

Then why does Kokichi’s stomach feel sour?

❝ No. ❞ He bluntly chimes, covering all of Gundham’s questions with a blanket denial. However, despite his dry response, gaze is still focused upon his boyfriend. Widened, curious eyes silently urging Gundham to continue even if he’s being vocally dismissive. That taut ❛ no ❜ may as well be a yes as far as Kokichi is concerned and he feels confident that Gundham knows as much. They’re usually good at reading one another. No matter how difficult the two seem determined to make it be at times. 「 ☆ 」

[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]

「 ☆ 」 Completely oblivious to Seto's lapse in demeanor and somehow even more-so to the CAUSE for it, clear clues are missed by unconfident eyes, Shuichi's poor view of himself not allowing him to see what's right in front of his face. Accepting the nonchalant facade without question, Shuichi's stomach unwittingly flutters at that familiar smirk. Misdiagnosing the tingling as his usual ingrained nerves despite feeling more at ease than he has all day, the detective pays it no mind. Nor does he acknowledge the warmth glowing in his face; yet another sign misunderstood by the person feeling it. Another string of solidarity, tying the two souls together.

Whether they realize it yet or not.

Eyes widen at the sight of TWO magnifying glasses in Seto's grip, still taken aback at the other. No matter how many times Seto steals from him, it never fails to impress. Perhaps not the mindset a renowned detective should have toward a criminal, but this is all in good fun. Should they run into each other when not in the safe embrace of Hope's Peak grounds, that's a different more emotionally complex story. Thankfully, it has yet to happen and if Seto's skills continue to keep him more figment than actual prospect to throw Shuichi's services at, it never will.

Disgusted as people may be to work with the young detective, their superiors are still vying for Shuichi's assistance. With countless cases offered or forced upon him, it's easy to find excuses to politely turn down requests to chase after a ❛ ghost ❜.

Instinctively looking down at his pocket where the backup magnifying glass used to be, mirth lights up his eyes and helps clear his worries. A confusing skill of Seto's ( almost as much as why the thief calls him ❛ Bluejay ❜ ) considering most criminals want nothing more than to see Shuichi BREAK rather than laugh. But one Shuichi appreciates. Sputtering out a giggle, clear even behind his raised hand, he returns Seto's smirk with an attempt of his own. Not nearly as well-practiced, it's more of a genuine smile than a suave tease, ❝ Where's the fun in simply telling you? ❞

Meeting the banter with more confidence than most would expect, Shuichi ❛ nonchalantly ❜ shrugs while saying, ❝ If you want to know so badly, you'll just have to find that out yourself... ❞ Looking proud of himself for the added allure of mystery, he crosses his arms and adds with a raised brow, ❝ If I did have a third magnifying glass, I still wouldn't consider it ❛ paranoid ❜. And I don't think you can either... Not when you're standing there holding TWO of mine. ❞

❝ Besides, it's actually incredibly useful to have varying sizes and strengths available at a moment's notice. ❞ He can't help but add, a tinge of genuine excitement hinting his words as he explains. ❝ Smaller ones are the most beneficial, both for the detail they can pick out and ease of concealment. But I still like having a bigger option on me— ❞ He points at the regular glass in Seto's grip, ❝ —for when I need to examine a larger surface area, and efficiency is more important than picking out every tiny detail. So, they're all useful. Even if I might use some more than others. ❞ 「 ☆ 」

not-bcring​:

「 ☆ 」   Laughter was expected. People tend to laugh at Shuichi a lot. But what the detective HADN’T expected was how the laughter made him feel. Instead of the usual malicious mockery, this sound was… joyous. Unapologetically and unintentionally lighthearted as it literally knocked Seto off his feet and knocked the air out of Shuichi’s lungs. Instead of making Shuichi want to crawl under a rock and die, surprised expression softens. Lips upturning into a smile, giggling begins to bubble out, unable to be stifled behind a dainty hand. Turning into peals of laughter, Shuichi is soon grasping his stomach as well; although he manages to remain upright.

Proving to be contagious, Shuichi is caught in the throes of laughter alongside Seto, cheeks growing rosy as his entire body lights up at the unfamiliar bout. Ribs tickling and nerves nonexistent, the attention they could be drawing to themselves doesn’t even cross Shuichi’s mind. Nothing mattering but him and Seto and the joyous waves overwhelming them. Sides ache but Shuichi doesn’t care, the detective doubled-over as he laughs thanks to the sheer joy of the feeling. The sheer delight at seeing Seto so… happy.

It’s nice… laughing like this. FEELING like this.

When it finally fades to sporadic bouts of snickering, Shuichi straightens his spine with a wince, wiping at his eyes as the tickling in his stomach tries to settle. Looking at Seto with a surprising and unintentional fondness that isn’t going to help his reputation around Hope’s Peak, Shuichi tucks his messy hair out of his face, ebony strands stubbornly falling back.  ❝  … Really?  ❞  He responds through a quiet giggle, remnants of giddiness still lingering in bright eyes and a sheepish blush. Unaware of how he further proves Seto’s comment, face grows a deeper shade of pink as he cutely grins and offers a hand to help Seto up,  ❝  That’s the first time someone’s had that reaction… Usually I get called weird.  ❞  Or worse.

❝  Personally, I don’t see what’s so strange about being well-prepared.  ❞  Speaking with far more ease than Shuichi normally shows around others, the socially-awkward detective even takes the risk of trying to banter,  ❝  After all, you never know when some sneaky thief might swipe your magnifying glass…  ❞     「 ☆ 」 

Shuichi really is fucking precious.

Just the sound of his laughter and the look of pure mirth on his face was enough to completely enrapture Seto. It took him by surprise so much that he almost immediately stopped laughing, so shocking that he even stopped breathing. Heat suddenly built up in his cheeks and his pants. Moments like these were why he was so certain that he and Shuichi were Fated Rivals. How else would one explain this inherent attraction to the other? And when his rival brushed hair out of his face, the pure exposure to the cuteness that was the detective’s visage stunned the thief once again, his heart skipping a beat as he stared up from his spot on the ground.

Finally coming back to his senses, he shook his head and sprung back onto his feet. His signature smirk made it’s way back onto his mug, confident and nonchalant facade returning to its rightful place. “Well, there’s a fine line between being prepared and being paranoid,” he replied teasingly. After saying that, he held up two magnifying glasses, one much more smaller than the other. “Well, which one are y-you, Bluejay?”

He had taken the opportunity while Shuichi fit of laughter to pickpocket the second one, just for his reaction and keep their conversation going. That’s when a certain thought crossed his mind. “Y-you don’t happen to have a third, even smaller magnifying glass, do you?” he questioned, one eyebrow slightly raised.

[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]

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. 「 ☆ 」