#ishiyxn

[bibibicicletta]

Pretty Boy & Pretty Girl | Fem/Yakuza!AU

@ishiyxn

Being semi-involved in this usually was a bad thing; that applied for the Yakuza as well. 

Yasuhiro was not in charge of any department, really -- he could’ve been if he wanted to, but he meant to be humble about it, therefore stayed in the shadows. The easiest work to do was to take care of the money laundering. Though, their boss made sure that he wasn’t actually doing anything, merely giving orders here and there for some low-end criminals. Figuratively speaking, he could’ve put himself on the same level as Tsuji or Arakita... but he refrained from doing so. It was a dangerous game to play. Everyone was competitive of one another. While he had seen the fair share of family-bonding among the Mafia that had paid them a visit, that was nowhere near the case with the Japanese men. They were out for blood on each other, really. And Kazu just didn’t have it in him to compete under such circumstances. 

Though, it would not stop him from feeling somewhat anxious -- especially when the boss’s daughter was paying him a visit in his apartment.

“Ishigaki---- san...!?!?!” 

Was she sent out to spy on him? Was she sent out to kill him? No, no, she wouldn’t do the dirty work -- there must’ve been some assassin in the vicinity. Kuroda?!?! Closing the door a little bit, he merely peeked out with one eye, trying to smile at her though seeming nervous.

“How come such a pretty girl is paying me a visit this late? D-Did your dad send you?”

Either way, he’d be in trouble: if her father sent her, he’d probably wanna talk to him... and if she was here on her own accord... hell... someone might think something of the two of them... he’d be a dead man.

[bepsibae]

Nostalgia | Fem/Bōsōzoku!AU

@ishiyxn

He was rarely around in the traditional areas of this town, let alone during broad daylight. It would be a suicide mission, being seen by others like that -- people would take the smallest mistake in order to rub it under his nose and make him a noose out of the situation, really. People were ruthless, no matter what they said about people like him -- gangsters, and such -- humans were disgusting.

For some reason, however, Yasutomo really had the urge to see this very ‘back-to-the-roots’ kind of area of town, almost feeling like a child again when he saw some women clad in kimonos for an upcoming festival, heading to the Tori and Shrine in order to make their wishes. He remembered going there with his family -- mom, dad, his two younger sisters -- it was really... a nice time, no matter how much he rebelled against all of them, it was a good time. And no matter how much he told his parents how much he hated them, and no matter how many times him and hid sisters got into fights that were borderline verbally abusive, he loved them. And they probably loved him, too. As proud as he was to be a gang leader, to be a free spirit among dead office-zombies who had a daily routine that was soul crushing and life crippling, it sure was a privilege in his eyes, not a curse. But sometimes ---- he was wondering if his family was really that proud of him, if they could meet him eye-to-eye or if they were shying away from him in shame. He wouldn’t have dared asking them face-to-face, he rather shied away himself; no matter how confronting of a personality he was, this was his family.

That soupçon of nostalgia practically carried him to the same Tori where all the girls and boys were heading. Despite him being unfitting to present himself in front of the Gods. As he looked up to the bright red Tori, gazing left and right to the school girls who passed him, some were mumbling about him (he just knew by the way they were looking at him, though he was not so sure if they admired him or were frightened), he decided to walk up the stairs and towards the Ema himself. ‘Wishes, huh...’ He thought to himself as he looked over the wooden plaques ---- sure, he had wishes. Things that his position as a gang leader couldn’t just give him. Affection, love; but he deemed these things rather... irrelevant to put on a wooden plaque, really. God, he really wanted to kick himself for even coming here now!!! It was just too sentimental.

As he turned to look around, that’s when it really stroke him: a woman in a kimono, she seemed a few years younger than him, but perhaps it was just her size? The long black hair, the bow on the back of her head... that was exactly the way one of his sisters would dress. Was that fate after all? Was he meant to come here and meet her? Was he supposed to be guided here only to see her and... start a conversation? For some reason his heart picked up pace, racing behind his ribcage ---- what if she really did not want to be seen with him?!

Putting aside his worries and fears, he did what he was best at -- head-on action without thinking it through too much. He just had to grab that chance as it was, and sure he did. Once he caught up to that petite woman, he reached for her shoulder and tried to turn her around, but instead decided to walk around her. “Yui-chan?” The taller blurted out before he could get a look of her face -- only then realising that this was not his sister but just a girl who bore a similar hair style -- gulping hard, he really felt embarrassed about this, instantly letting go of her shoulder as he stepped back. “Yo, I’m sorry... I thought you were someone else...” Clearly, he did not want her to start a ruckus for getting touched on the shoulder ---- the last thing he needed was the cops being called on his ass for mixing up a stranger for his sister, really.

[tsxji]

Karoushi | Office!AU

@ishiyxn

‘As of today, I, Tsuji Akihisa, am going to resign from this position as an accountant. Thank you very much for taking care of me.’

A stereotypical phrasing, nothing personal, nothing too flat, just necessarily polite as it was. Tsuji was not a man of big, emotional words; as long as it was enough, it was good enough. It had been a year that he worked at this office, one hell of a year; people really loved to take advantage of him and his sturdy, yet responsible nature. When someone was not in the mood for their job and whined about overworking, he was loaded up with more and more, overtime was a normality for him by now -- no private life, no girlfriend, no friends outside of work, if any, really. It was a circle that got closer and closer to karoushi -- death by overworking. Not uncommon nowadays in Japan (or rather the bigger cities with the bigger companies and such), however, he really did not want to become one of these victims.

As he glanced at his resignation letter, looking up and over, around to all his colleagues, it was not as if he would miss this place. Being an accountant was not his dream job, really; it was a stable and responsible profession, something his parents wanted him to do in order to have a stable salary and whatnot. Surely, parents always wanted the best for their children -- he didn’t doubt that -- but sometimes, parents just didn’t understand that the best they imagine is not the healthy option for their offspring. 

Looking over to the office space of his superior, glancing back and forth ---- the moment the meeting was over in there, he would just walk in and hand it over to him, right? He could always help his parents in their store for the meantime, until he found something he rather wanted to do with his life. It was a triste repetitive routine: get up, get ready, go to the train, work, go to the train, go to the store, go home, sleep. On repeat, like a broken record, it drained him ---- which was quite visible on the dark circles underneath his eyes. A colleague told him that he should start wearing fake glasses to cover up the look of them, ‘cause (in her words) he looked more and more creepy. But he really did not care for the way he looked, as long as he was properly clothed for his job and had the results anyone wanted him to have, that’s fine. No need to look like a model.

“Tsuji-san.” A female’s voice -- the staff manager to be more precise -- he looked up and shoved the resignation underneath his keyboard to hide it, doing so in a manner that nobody would catch on. “We have a new accountant as of today: Ishigaki Koutarou-kun. He is going to be under your supervision, please work well together.” And with these words, she merely pointed her hand towards the man with slicked back hair and a rather dazzling smile. He looked more energetic than Akihisa ever was, almost as if he was excited to be in such an dead-end job. Naive. Tsuji being Tsuji, he nodded his head slowly in an half-assed bow as he blinked at the other, waiting for him to introduce himself ---- he did not look like an accountant, the way he smiled, anyone on the phone could hear his charisma. A cutout salesman. Weird... but either way, getting someone assigned to him on the day he wanted to resign was really the worst timing. Almost like fate wanted to mock him thoroughly.

[metokiba-blog]

@ishiyxn

“Huh? Could it be----?!?!”

Lowering his torso a little bit to be somewhat eye-to-eye with his counterpart, only to rush upwards quickly and squealing.

“Oh-- oh, oh, oh! I got it, I got it!!! You’re that guy from that movie ‘Grease’!!! Woah, such a celebrity around here?! I’m getting nervous--!!”

Ashikiba was really not good with remembering faces and names, and so on and so forth.

[yuutxs]

Dangerous Flirt | Fem/Yakuza/Mafia!AU

@ishiyxn

As much as the semi-Italian had been around, he was still not understanding the concept of this Yakuza entirely yet. Who was whose boss and so on and so forth, it was all under layers beneath layers beneath more layers and he was simply not caring too much to dig this deep. He would listen to the tasks given to him, he would do them as a necessity and the rest was his leisure time, to enjoy himself and the vast Japanese cities, the people and everything that came with it. It was so much more colourful and thrilling than Italy ---- the neon signs, the heavy traffic, the clocked mentality that reigned -- it wasn’t as chaotic as any Italian city he had been to, even though so much more people lived here. That was impressive to Yuuto, and if anything, it was mesmerising. 

After he headed back to the diner where he was supposed to meet everyone else, he saw a girl sitting alone by a huge table that seemed to be reserved for a party or something. He did not make the connection that this was their table and she was part of the meeting. Instead, when looking around and not finding any familiar face, he thought he could kill some time practising his Italian flirting per usual. It wouldn’t hurt, right? 

But again... due to his lack of knowledge upon the system of the Yakuza and how everyone was working and situated, it flew right over his head that he was approaching the head boss’s daughter just now. For some, that was intimidating, but even if he had said knowledge upon it, Yuuto would not hesitate to court her. 

“Ciao bella~!” The man sing-songed as he bluntly sat down beside her, not giving her any room, he grabbed for her small hand and pressed his lips to the back of it gingerly. “Your beauty surely is breath-taking, I hope you know that you make mens’ hearts flutter with both delight and pain whenever they look at you, for they can only do as much as to steal a glance, but nobody will be able to call you theirs... a bittersweet present, don’t you agree, bambina?” Toying with her hand in his, he massaged her palm with his thumb, chuckling sweetly. “I sure hope you’re not sitting alone here waiting on your date. In that case, I could be your date instead...? I won’t make you wait, mio tesoro...” Another peck to her hand, aiming it a little higher, almost as if he was ready to cover her entire arm with kisses and slowly seduce her.

[bepsibae]

continued // @ishiyxn

                                “ Fine, fine, you can choose the movie this time. “

“Alright, I’ll be over soon.” Hanging up the phone call then, Yasutomo left the bar he hung out at -- which wasn’t too far away from the Lizard Hell base -- paying his drinks and then heading towards said location, pondering if he should’ve clarified first whether or not their new gang leader was at the base right now or not -- but even so, he would beat him up to a pulp if needed. Arakita had his acquaintances with some of the old members -- mostly Ishigaki and Tsuji -- so, he didn’t see how he should be hiding or shying away.

Once he was at the base, he knocked at their door three times, looking at the spy hole until he heard someone approaching the door, unsure if it was Koutarou or someone else. “I come in peace...” The tall Lone Wolves leader babbled in his usual mocking sound, clicking his tongue as he leaned forward. “Ishigaki-san awaits my visit.” He declared then, not wanting to start some kind of street fight by standing in front of a rivaling gang’s base.

[tsxji]

家族 | Fem/Yakuza!AU

@ishiyxn

Born and raised in Kyoto, it had always been such a prideful thing to return, even if it was for the gatherings with his boss and the other upperhand-men of the clan. Each and every one of them had their speciality, of course: drugs, money laundering, blackmailing, danegeld and -- last but not least -- prostitution. The ladder being one of the biggest, without a doubt, therefore, being on of the more profitable ones (aside from the money laundering, but it was also less dangerous). Was Akihisa proud of his division? No. But he took great pride in being trusted upon such a big task by his boss. It meant a lot to him, it meant that he was trusted deeply. 

As he walked down the ancient paths of Kyoto, red lanterns decorating each side of the pavement, far up, he stooped by one of the old-fashioned, traditional restaurants, entering after he shoved aside the cloths to mark the entrance/exit, taking off his business shoes at the Genkan, before walked in further. Surely, it would’ve been more suiting to arrive in a kimono, but the man had to get over with some business before travelling all the way to Kyoto from Tokyo. 

It was not hard to spot the group of ‘business’ men sitting at a gathering of multiple tables, his boss clad in a yukata and a girl, maybe a few years younger than Akihisa himself, sat next to him in a kimono. Surely, this was not his wife. It more so looked like his daughter ---- whom he heard of before, but never met. 

“Tsuji-san... finally... we’ve been waiting for you.” The older man chuckled, gesturing to the spot next to his (for now, presumed) daughter, “Please, please... make yourself comfortable.” Bowing his head to the men, his boss and of course the young female, before he took a seat, he meant to be formal about the delay. “I apologise. I had to get business matters straight. There had been a little bit of a... brawl. And not to mention rush hour from Tokyo to Kyoto.” -- “Please, please...” Waving off the man’s excuses, he was gestured to sit down (which he did), greeting the men in the round before he was asked what he’d like to drink and eat by a waitress.

“As you all know... I wanted to celebrate our business increase together. It’s been a good year, hasn’t it?” The old leader chuckled, receiving a good amount of agreements from the round, Tsuji merely sipping from his cocktail; surely, most of the success had been his work. But he did not mean to come of cocky, therefore he was... silent about it. “I really do have to thank you all. It’s truly like a family gathering here, isn’t it? Therefore, I thought it was time to bring my daughter into this family. She is old enough now to assist me, and -- how knows -- maybe take over her old man’s work? But we shall see. So please, please, introduce yourself, sweetheart.”

Curiously, Akihisa side-eyed the girl then, waiting for her introduction before he’d say any further; certainly, she looked cute and all, but he had no interest getting on the old man’s bad side for talking to his daughter first. After all, she was a higher rank in this family than Tsuji ---- no matter how good of a money maker he was, she was genetically the daughter of his boss. 

[bibibicicletta]

@ishiyxn

“Come on, Ishigaki. You can do better than this.”

Despite his harsh words, he tried to make them sound as kindly as possible. It was true -- he had been a little stricter with Koutarou for the mere reason that he saw ace potential in the man, a leader, a true winner. He had to pass the title of KyoFushi’s victorious captain along, and it was his job to make sure that the boy would follow suit. 

Stopping on his bicycle as he looked behind him to the second year who was still trying his best to catch up, blinking with his eyes a few times -- his expression wouldn’t allow the other to know if he was upset or simply thinking. “10 more kilometers... if you can’t keep up with me, how are you going to outnumber me?” It wasn’t rare that the other third years kept calling Yasuhiro the “endurance demon” whenever they’d see him practice with poor Koutarou. But despite their joking and poking, Kazu was serious about this. 

He wanted the next generation to carry victory as far as he did when he was entering first for the prelims, thus giving KyoFushi the best momentum for the InHigh in Hiroshima. 

[bibibicicletta]

Nanashi-no | Bōsōzoku!AU

@ishiyxn

Moving closer to the smaller male, his bored expression was more than misleading. If anything, he had his prey set right then and there -- wanting to squish him under his grip like a bug, buzzing around and annoying him. It was nothing more than white noise -- nothing more than empty words aimed at him to harm him. No matter how much Koutarou meant to say things like ‘It would be better for you’ or ‘You have to be more considerate’, it couldn’t feel any less than a lie wrapped underneath colourful cloths to make it appear less menacing.

Without any warning, he grabbed the man’s face with one hand, squishing his cheeks tightly, pressing his digits against the ex-leader’s cheekbones to make it as painful as possible, if not even make him bruise up properly.

“I. Shi. Ga. Ki. Kuuuuuuuuuuuunnnnn...”

Dragging out the name as much as he could to seem more intimidating than he was, it was an insult to witness that this guy would not falter under his outbursts, and kept his patience-level up high, preaching about ‘enduring’ and such... what an annoyance. Buzz, buzz, buzz--

“When I say, we keep Phase 10 in our plan, then I really mean that we keep PHASE 10 IN OUR PLAN. Hah... is that really so hard to get into your brain, huh?! Did the zakus rub off on you and make you useless and dumb?! Really?!” 

Sticking out his tongue while he cocked his head in a manner to make his neck crack in multiple places, huge eyes staring right through him while his pupils had gotten smaller and smaller, almost resembling those of a frog or lizard.

“Phase 10: Yamaguchi-kun and Tsuji-kun will get rid of the deadweight, cleaning up the mess and dumping the bodies. This had been a part of Lizard Hell ever since I took over the leadership role. Yamaguchi-kun and Tsuji-kun are cut-out to be Nanashi-no #1 and Nanashi-no #2... bland over bland over bland, buzzing flies and scattering cockroaches, I don’t see why this is bothering you so much Ishigaaaakiiii-kuuuuun...”

Inching even closer, his expression had gotten even more menacing. “Is it because you want to protect your precious friends, want to save that little sentiment left between you and the rest? What have I told you, Ishigaki-kun, hah? Abandon unnecessary feelings. You could’ve been a mediocre leader, if you weren’t so sentimental, blech!!!”

With that sound of disgust, he pushed the man to the ground, wiping the hand he had used to grab his face in place on his jeans. “If you keep on interrupting this, I might as well stop doing these meetings with you and just hang all the plans on a blackboard for everyone to read themselves. You’re really just wasting my time, pfff--pupuuu...”

[tsxji]

White like the snow in my heart | Model/Designer!AU

@ishiyxn

After his college years, the last thing Akihisa thought he would do with his fashion design degree was to create wedding dresses. Honestly, all of his college work was rather grotesque: heavy on leather and latex, darker than black, artistically speaking they were all masterpieces that could’ve been worn on any catwalk. But the true (and harsh) reality hit him of course when he was thinking about ‘What am I going to do with my degree? What will I create and make money with?’ and the man really had to think long and hard about it.

One night it just hit him ---- wedding dresses, yes. They were a necessity to any woman’s life (as long as they did not go for the butch look in a tuxedo, but that’s another story), any woman wanted to own a wedding dress and wear it with just unique and pristine elegance that nobody else could. It would be a niche for him, certainly, and he was not too opposed to creating these dresses. The only thing that bored him eventually was the colour white, but he would always make a little twist here and there: some women did not want to marry in white, thankfully. He could go a little more ‘crazy’ then, but usually, it was... kind of dull.

That was until he met a model by the name Ishigaki Koutarou who was supposed to advertise his pieces for magazines and such. Each and every time he knew that he could work with her and create a wedding dress for her petite body, it was a pleasure to create again. Quite cheesy, wasn’t it?

“You moved again.” He mumbled under his breath, with pins stuck between his lips as he walked around her to fix the size of the fabric here and there, imagining how the folds would hug her curves the way they should, therefore getting the fabrics in place before he could work without her. That’s what he had mannequins for, but it would not be a mistake to check every now and then. “I need to re-pin...” Grazing his hand over her waist to look for the pin that he used there, he fixed the whole thing according to her body. 

“You know...” Tsuji started as he was still thinking about his words, knowing that this may be a really blunt thing to say, but then again -- he was a blunt man. “...all the wedding dresses I created with you as my mannequin, you have plenty of selection for your own wedding, don’t you think?” The man couldn’t deny his infatuation for her; and it wasn’t just about her looks, sure, she was stunningly beautiful and just a pearl, but her personality was something he really admired her the most for. He was not nearly as patient as her, and usually fashion designers had to keep a cool head in stressful situations. Moving around her to check the front view, he lifted her face up by gently touching her chin, taking a few steps back to take in the full view as the pieces were put together inside his brain, imagining the end result already and knowing where and how to work in order to make his imagination reality. “Thank you. Let me open the zipper on the back and then you can move -- and breathe -- again...” He joked, walking around her to open the zipper of the work-in-progress-dress. 

Each and every time they’d work together, he meant to ask her during small talk -- ask her out on a date, really ---- but Tsuji just didn’t have it in him. He may have been good at speaking his mind, but he was not one to wear his heart on the sleeve. One could only wonder about such a beautiful girl -- she probably already had a boyfriend, or fiancé... wouldn’t that be ironic? To create her wedding dress, one after another, only to watch her marry another guy? “It... is always a pleasure working with you, Ishigaki-san.” Bowing to her after he took the dress, moving to place it neatly one of his mannequins, zipping it so nothing would move or slide ---- he had the deadline breathing down his neck, there was not much room for messing up, really. 

As she got dressed again (sure, she had her underwear and whatnot, but she couldn’t really wear an outfit underneath a wedding dress while he took measurements), he was not turning to look out of respect and decency. Tsuji was simply thankful to have such a generously spaced loft with lots of flooding light, it was always better than the artificial kind -- mostly for make up and fashion, of course. 

[tsxji]

continued // @ishiyxn

          Blabbering on and on about his problems, he hadn’t even considered that he may have been boring the man or anything of the sort. It felt a bit silly; telling the other what was on his mind, leaving nothing sugar-coated as he would had he been talking to Mizuta or the others. Tsuji was someone he expected could handle his issues without making them sound more pleasant than they were, so he assumed it was fine to spill out his feelings right there for the man. 

         His words stopped the moment he felt the other’s gentle touches, leaving him with a red-face, and rendered him unable to think about whatever negative thing he had been rambling about. By the time he heard Tsuji’s words, telling him to stop being upset, he had already forgotten the problem at hand, and focused on the man’s lips on his fingers. 

          “ Sorry…I didn’t mean to be so negative. “ He breathed out, feeling guilty about pushing all of his worry onto Tsuji like he had.��“ It just helps to tell you about it. I don’t mind whether you listen to me or not, it just gives me some relief. “ Ishigaki admitted, giving a short laugh. 

Quite the contrary -- Tsuji didn’t mind to listen to the other -- or help him by being a good listener. It was just really sad to see how upset he would get over these things around him, about their team, questioning himself as a captain, questioning his abilities, questioning the friendship between him and the teammates, it quite literally was heart-breaking to Akihisa. Pressing his lips onto the knuckles of his hand, he held it into his own as if he were a princess, brushing his thumb over his soft skin.

“Don’t apologise, it’s not like I don’t like listening to you -- we all need to vent sometimes, and we all need a shoulder to lean on. It’s just that I get upset, when you’re upset. I respect you for keeping up that facade in front of the team, Ishiyan. I wish, we all were as strong as you are. Maybe that way, we wouldn’t be so lousy at what we do...”

It was always so quiet in the locker room without anyone there ---- usually, Midousuji would stay the longest for practice, so there was always someone there. But not in this situation. Ever since their harsh training regime, it wore down on everyone’s bodies, really. Hence why they were all labelled zakus by their new ace. Akihisa hit it the hardest though ---- having an injured knee was no joke for a climber, it was all about the cadence, all about the the legs, less about aerodynamics and whatnot. Climbers could not hide behind teammates, they had to make the effort. It was only thanks to Koutarou that he was able to rest in the locker room, leaning his cheek on the man’s thigh, something glazing over his eyes that nobody ever dreamt of seeing on him: defeat.

“It makes me feel like you only get so upset lately because none of us can keep up... Yama and Nobu are at their limits... Ihara and I are barely coping... you’re one of the only ones, really. We are failing you not only as friends but also as teammates, that’s why you’re so mad, right?” Did he dare saying that Koutarou was getting sick of him, emotionally? That the man he loved the most was pushing him out of the picture, gradually? Closing his eyes, he moved from the spot and tried to stand up, not wanting to be a pest near the captain, the thick air already felt as if there was pesticides sprayed everywhere to get rid of the so-called small fries.

[tsxji]

Red Rope of Fate | Shibari!AU

@ishiyxn

Being an artist was already a rocky choice of employment, if you can call it that. Employment would suggest that there was enough work to do. However, an artist as a freelancer had always struggles with finding some form of occupation. Tsuji dropped out of art school two years ago, thinking that he wasn’t taught to unfold his passion for art as much as he wanted to. And honestly, that was the only form of passion he could deliver. Art school only taught him that being an artist meant to be out of the ordinary -- how was it out of the ordinary to do exactly what everyone else wanted, to do as everyone else pleased? Commissioned artists? Painting on command? Sculpturing faces of people he did not care about whatsoever? That did not tickle his fancy at all. Perhaps because he had a more sinister way of expressing his artistic side, or perhaps he wanted to do exactly that: expressing himself, and not expressing another person’s desire for sheer payment. Therefore, those hipster artists were nothing but a scam to him.

He doesn’t need to paint, to sculpt -- he was always fascinated in the art of ropes, tying limbs, leaving streaks and marks of silky red ropes on milky skin, said streaks leaving similar colours on the flesh, red and warm, until they turn colder and change shades of purple and blue, to green and yellow, exposing a body teasingly, playfully, innocently with the touch of macabre and pure lust; ropes were his brushes, while humans and their flesh were his canvas. There was something absurdly erotic about simply restricting another being, having their trust put into his hands solely, to do whatever he pleased and yet keeping his composure, no matter how heated the situation. That is art. The art of rejection and power of the own body and will, the power of the mind being stronger than the body’s urges.

About a week ago, he had put an ad into a few magazines of choice. He had asked his old friend and nemesis Yasutomo to publish his ad into a few of his magazines. Of course, they weren’t high class prints, but beggars cannot be choosers ---- as long as someone would show up, even if it was one of Arakita’s tattoo shop clients or gang members, it did not matter. As long as Akihisa could get a few recordings and publish them for good money, also cash in some money for those ‘canvases’ showing up at his doorstep, he’d be satisfied. However, there was no one giving him a call up to this day. “Useless...” He grumbled to himself as he tossed one of those magazines he had gotten as evidence from Arakita against the next best wall, huffing. At least that guy didn’t make him pay for a print of each! Most of the content were tattoos or pin ups. Who in their right mind would give him a call, honestly, even artists nowadays aren’t as savage and blunt as they used to ---- as he had witnessed himself at art school, damned hipster kids ---- so, if not a fellow artist, who else? “Great job, Yasutomo.”

[tsxji]

@ishiyxn

“If you were a girl, Ishiyan, you’d have nice tits.”

[tsxji]

ishiyxn replied to your post “OOC; oh shit waddup! here come DAT BOI”

wipes tear what a beautiful boi

OOC;

dj akihisa back in the CLUB

lets thank jesus christ for this blessing amen

[tsxji]

💀

“I’ve killed for you. Who else can say that?”

[tsxji]

continued / @ishiyxn

when tsuji sat on the floor in front of him, he put his head at a perfect height for ishigaki to toy with his hair. normally, the smaller would have to reach up quite a bit to get a reach at the other’s hair, but sitting in this fashion made him able to toy with his hair with ease. he started off only touching a few strands, so lightly that he was almost positive that the other couldn’t even feel it. but as time went on, he’d gotten more brave – burying the length of his fingers in dark brown locks. 

    of course, he was quick to note the other tensing up as he began to openly toy with the other’s hair. ishigaki knew just how the other could get nervous over silly little affections such as this. instead of stopping, he moved at a soft rhythmic pace, as if he were petting an animal rather than a man. with such soothing gestures, he aimed at relaxing the man into it, rather than just stopping at the smallest sign of discomfort. when tsuji spoke up, it was not a request for him to stop the gesture – it was a joke about how he was touching the other as if he were a puppy. smiling, ishigaki laughed. it was an interesting way to look at it, but if joking around about the whole situation is what made it less awkward, he would joke around till the other was sick of him.

“はい、はい you’re a cute little lap dog. you deserves pets for being the goodest boy.” he teased, not once pausing in his affectionate gestures. 

Without a doubt, Koutarou’s intentions were more than successful; the repetitive movements as if the smaller was petting a pet instead of a human, it did soothe the gloomy kid. While he kept his eyes closed, Tsuji was barely even paying attention to the TV or the movie that was playing, he even forgot about his bowl of ramen that was semi-eaten, unconsciously tending his head closer and closer to Ishigaki’s hand. One thing he had gotten wrong however -- Akihisa did take note of the subtle touches to his hair. If anything, he had a high sensory on whenever his body was being touched. It was simply a result of the fact that he hardly had gotten any physical contact with anyone, really. Despite his nickname given by the blond of their team, Akihisa lived the life of a social recluse. Thus, the climber really only could rely on his friends getting close and closer to him. A few coy touches to his hair, brushing against it as weightlessly as a feather, it was still noticeable by the tall man. And even more so now that the contact was supposed to be noticed.

A grin appearing on his face when the smaller returned the joke just as light-heartedly and playful as he himself did; it was really easy-going to be near Koutarou’s presence. He couldn’t make anyone feel uncomfortable, the man just had a talent to turn everything cosy and pleasant, perhaps he should be working at a spa or something... no, he couldn’t suggest that; perhaps that kind of joke would not be deemed funny or hilarious by the greaser. 

“Am I not a little bit too big for a lap dog?” Chuckling in the depth of his throat, he leaned his head back eventually to place it onto Ishiyan’s lap (ironically), there was no sign of tension anymore on both his body language and facial expressions ---- he clearly was enjoying himself. “Maybe you’re just a good masseuse?”