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peacockstop2024-04-15 09:00 pm
goldmods) wrote in peacockstop2024-04-15 09:00 pm
TDM 03
【 Hello, dearest guests. We hope you have been enjoying your time in the Golden Peacock and utilizing our many amenities.
Reception would like all guests to be aware that some new arrivals have been misplaced. Due to the nature of the resort, new arrivals may have been misplaced in unexpected locations. This includes your personal suites. We are very sorry for this inconvenience.
Please do not be alarmed if you come across a misplaced new arrival. We kindly request that any guests that find a misplaced new arrival escort them to the main hub, where we have arranged a central meetup where all new arrivals can claim their complimentary robes and welcome baskets.
All guests are invited to come mingle at the main hub and meet new arrivals. As always, we hope you have a pleasant day! 】
DEALER'S CHOICE
STEVE, WHERE DID YOU PUT THE NEW ARRIVALS?
The Golden Peacock has swept away the hues of winter and welcomed vibrant pops of color for a change of pace. Gone are the snow whites and cool golds. Vases of bright florals have been staged all throughout the general hubs and hallways. Statues have been cheekily decorated with bright clothes, such as charming hats and billowing dresses with cheerful prints. This peacock has cleaned up nicely, its brilliant feathers shaking with a warm palette to please the senses.
Staff are bustling during the decor turnover. While some diligent employees are steadfastly decorating the hallways with sprawling vines and spectacular blooms, others are darting back and forth in search of something. Or rather — someone. Several someones. Front reception is in an outright panic while flying over the phones and furiously slamming their hands on keyboards.
"Steve, I know you're new, but you can't just press any button that pops up on the computer screen! The new arrivals are supposed to go into temporary suites." Deborah, the head receptionist, sighs, "Now who knows where they are. I hope they're okay... I'm sure they're quite confused, wherever they wound up. Steve, stop crying. The house won't fire you for this. Probably. How's your resume looking?"
In the end, Steve didn't get fired. But he did get reassigned to trash duty.
FLORAL RIOT
A STRIKE OF COLOR
【 🌸🌸🌸 Come experience new floral delights! Prepare to be ravished by a symphony of color and aroma. Romance, love, and pleasure all await within corridors of beauty. 🌸 🌸 🌸 】
Days before the grand unveiling, the gardeners of the Cloud Dwelling Garden distribute flyers announcing that their special floral exhibition is now ready for guests to enjoy. Long-standing guests vibrate in anticipation, eagerly stomping around the gardens until the ribbon is cut and the newest resort amenity has been revealed. The gardeners make a point to approach new guests and encourage them to join in on the fun, explaining that the house likes to create a new floral experience for guests every few years or so.
Exhibition opening is set for mid-month. On the 15th precisely, the gardeners line up in front of the white sheet hiding the project, each taking a turn to bow and say a few short words about how grand and generous the house is for giving them such rewarding jobs.
The curtains fall away to a wall of shockingly bright florals. Guests ooh and aahh at not only the array of shades but at the luxurious meld of so many different kinds of flowers. Wisteria and roses, lilies and carnations. Lilacs, peonies, daisies, daffodils, sunflowers. More and more and more and more. The staff explain that this flower maze is perhaps their most intricate piece of work yet and that there is grand surprise waiting at the heart. Additionally, as part of the festivities, several prizes have been hidden around the maze at dead-ends. Long-standing guests clap and cheer before charging inside.
The flower maze will only last as long as the most fleeting flowers do. The flower maze will remain open to the public for several weeks, after which it will close for further remodeling.
"We'll be open again with another complex arrangement," one of the gardeners explains cheerfully. "A maze isn't fun once you've learned the layout. We'll open again after creating a whole new design for guests to enjoy. Maybe even some new flowers, too. A lot of the ones on the lawn got funky after guests came all over them..."
Days before the grand unveiling, the gardeners of the Cloud Dwelling Garden distribute flyers announcing that their special floral exhibition is now ready for guests to enjoy. Long-standing guests vibrate in anticipation, eagerly stomping around the gardens until the ribbon is cut and the newest resort amenity has been revealed. The gardeners make a point to approach new guests and encourage them to join in on the fun, explaining that the house likes to create a new floral experience for guests every few years or so.
Exhibition opening is set for mid-month. On the 15th precisely, the gardeners line up in front of the white sheet hiding the project, each taking a turn to bow and say a few short words about how grand and generous the house is for giving them such rewarding jobs.
The curtains fall away to a wall of shockingly bright florals. Guests ooh and aahh at not only the array of shades but at the luxurious meld of so many different kinds of flowers. Wisteria and roses, lilies and carnations. Lilacs, peonies, daisies, daffodils, sunflowers. More and more and more and more. The staff explain that this flower maze is perhaps their most intricate piece of work yet and that there is grand surprise waiting at the heart. Additionally, as part of the festivities, several prizes have been hidden around the maze at dead-ends. Long-standing guests clap and cheer before charging inside.
The flower maze will only last as long as the most fleeting flowers do. The flower maze will remain open to the public for several weeks, after which it will close for further remodeling.
"We'll be open again with another complex arrangement," one of the gardeners explains cheerfully. "A maze isn't fun once you've learned the layout. We'll open again after creating a whole new design for guests to enjoy. Maybe even some new flowers, too. A lot of the ones on the lawn got funky after guests came all over them..."
SMOKY NECTAR
DRIBBLE OF SWEETNESS
The conservatory is even busier than the gardens. Unlike the easygoing staff in the garden, employees in the conservatory are busy zooming to and fro with brooms while trying to get a handle on the unexpectedly huge amount of pollen. From flowers, from trees — so much pollen. The ground is coated and the air is thick. Several long-standing guests visiting the area have fallen into sneezing fits. Even with cleaning efforts to mitigate the build-up, the pollen becomes thicker as the weeks go on. Staff eventually give up on trying to sweep it away.
This pollen is not standard. Guests that inhale this pollen will begin to feel feverish and strange. Continued exposure to this pollen will heighten a desire for sex to the point of all-encompassing need. Orgasms become much more intense. Nipples are constantly hard. Guests may also be overwhelmed with the urge to "fertilize or become fertilized" — to aggressively deliver or receive cumshots. Gardeners soon realize that normal pollen has been tainted by the cross-breeding of their new spectacular fruits, resulting in an extremely potent sex pollen that affects people and animals. This sex pollen is stronger than any of the current aphrodisiacs in the resort, baffling the gardeners. They weren't even trying to make horny fruit!
The effects of the sex pollen will ease after a few days unless exposure is continued. Guests with too much exposure to the sex pollen may find themselves passing out from violently intense successive orgasms. Any guests found unconscious post-orgasm will be delivered to the Broken Wing clinic for recovery.
The sex pollen will fade out within a few weeks, when the new breeds of fruit have all been harvested and delivered to restaurants. The gardeners collectively agree to be more careful when engineering new breeds in the future. "I do think," reports one worker in the conservatory, "the house will be impressed that we've managed to engineer an even stronger aphrodisiac. Great things happen on accident!"
This pollen is not standard. Guests that inhale this pollen will begin to feel feverish and strange. Continued exposure to this pollen will heighten a desire for sex to the point of all-encompassing need. Orgasms become much more intense. Nipples are constantly hard. Guests may also be overwhelmed with the urge to "fertilize or become fertilized" — to aggressively deliver or receive cumshots. Gardeners soon realize that normal pollen has been tainted by the cross-breeding of their new spectacular fruits, resulting in an extremely potent sex pollen that affects people and animals. This sex pollen is stronger than any of the current aphrodisiacs in the resort, baffling the gardeners. They weren't even trying to make horny fruit!
The effects of the sex pollen will ease after a few days unless exposure is continued. Guests with too much exposure to the sex pollen may find themselves passing out from violently intense successive orgasms. Any guests found unconscious post-orgasm will be delivered to the Broken Wing clinic for recovery.
The sex pollen will fade out within a few weeks, when the new breeds of fruit have all been harvested and delivered to restaurants. The gardeners collectively agree to be more careful when engineering new breeds in the future. "I do think," reports one worker in the conservatory, "the house will be impressed that we've managed to engineer an even stronger aphrodisiac. Great things happen on accident!"
PETAL-STAINED LIPS
A BLOOMING DISEASE
👩🦰 "Hack hack, hack hack... what do you mean, 'please cover my mouth when I cough'? I'm a rank nine. Nine! You can't tell me what to do. Now, clean up this mess. I've been coughing up flower petals all day." 👩🦰
Wet, smudged petals scatter across the floors of the Peacock. The source is initially unclear, since the perfectly groomed flowers in their decorative vases are in perfect condition. Soon the number of guests coughing into their fists begins to rise and more soggy plants plague the hallways.
After the garden and conservatory unveil their Spring additions the clinic will begin to over-run with guests complaining of various symptoms. There aren't enough beds and there certainly aren't enough doctors and nurses to meet rising demand. Guests continue to visit the clinic complaining of some sort of flower cold while spitting up petals and leaves. Advanced cases involve a deeper spread of vines through the patient's body.
Though this illness manifests in many different ways, the head doctor in charge is quick to clock that it's the Blooming Disease working its way through the resort's population. Not an especially dangerous disease. More troublesome than anything and a mess to clean up. Luckily, there are extensive notes in their files about this particular disease and how to treat it.
The height of the disease will hit toward the end of the month. Thanks to the hard work of the doctors and nurses in the clinic, cases will begin to decrease as the days pile on, with the majority of the affected guests treated and sent on their way by the beginning of May. Activity in the clinic will begin to decline as patients fuck it out and cure the disease, with only a handful of scattered cases heading past the first week of May.
Wet, smudged petals scatter across the floors of the Peacock. The source is initially unclear, since the perfectly groomed flowers in their decorative vases are in perfect condition. Soon the number of guests coughing into their fists begins to rise and more soggy plants plague the hallways.
After the garden and conservatory unveil their Spring additions the clinic will begin to over-run with guests complaining of various symptoms. There aren't enough beds and there certainly aren't enough doctors and nurses to meet rising demand. Guests continue to visit the clinic complaining of some sort of flower cold while spitting up petals and leaves. Advanced cases involve a deeper spread of vines through the patient's body.
Though this illness manifests in many different ways, the head doctor in charge is quick to clock that it's the Blooming Disease working its way through the resort's population. Not an especially dangerous disease. More troublesome than anything and a mess to clean up. Luckily, there are extensive notes in their files about this particular disease and how to treat it.
The height of the disease will hit toward the end of the month. Thanks to the hard work of the doctors and nurses in the clinic, cases will begin to decrease as the days pile on, with the majority of the affected guests treated and sent on their way by the beginning of May. Activity in the clinic will begin to decline as patients fuck it out and cure the disease, with only a handful of scattered cases heading past the first week of May.
PROMPT NOTES
PROMPT NOTES
▶ Arrival, The Bathroom Button: Multiple versions of arrival are possible. Characters may be flushed down the toilet or tub to wake up in several different locations across the resort.
▶ Gardens, The Flower Maze: While players are welcome to imagine whatever they like in these chests, we do ask there be some limits. Characters should not find their special awesome sword or other personal items that were taken away by the resort upon arrival, for example. Items that would generally be available within resort stores or without regains are fine.
▶ Conservatory, General: While this location is currently being influenced by sex pollen, players that do not enjoy this kink may have their character immune to its effects. This will not affect engaging in the hanahaki prompt.
▶ Conservatory, The Orchard: Players are encouraged to get creative with effects from these fruits. While we've offered a couple suggestions, any of the affiliated suit's effects are available to tap into. For example, consumption of Orangeberry, aka the Diamonds fruit, can cause any Diamond-adjacent physical effects.
▶ Broken Wing Clinic: Players are allowed to get as delicate or grotesque with the presentation of the Blooming Disease as they’d like; you can even use this as an opportunity to engage in some vine-y bondage play. From the medical perspective, feel free to envision access to any sort of equipment you’d like, so long as it makes sense within a (sexy) clinical setting.
▶ Gardens, The Flower Maze: While players are welcome to imagine whatever they like in these chests, we do ask there be some limits. Characters should not find their special awesome sword or other personal items that were taken away by the resort upon arrival, for example. Items that would generally be available within resort stores or without regains are fine.
▶ Conservatory, General: While this location is currently being influenced by sex pollen, players that do not enjoy this kink may have their character immune to its effects. This will not affect engaging in the hanahaki prompt.
▶ Conservatory, The Orchard: Players are encouraged to get creative with effects from these fruits. While we've offered a couple suggestions, any of the affiliated suit's effects are available to tap into. For example, consumption of Orangeberry, aka the Diamonds fruit, can cause any Diamond-adjacent physical effects.
▶ Broken Wing Clinic: Players are allowed to get as delicate or grotesque with the presentation of the Blooming Disease as they’d like; you can even use this as an opportunity to engage in some vine-y bondage play. From the medical perspective, feel free to envision access to any sort of equipment you’d like, so long as it makes sense within a (sexy) clinical setting.
OOC NOTES
BLANKET CW: Altered States; Aphrodisiacs; Body Horror (potential); Dubcon; Illnesses; Medical Play; NSFW Language; Paranormal; Somnophilia; Sex Pollen; Sex Toys
▶ All new characters on the TDM are WILDCARDS, which means they have not yet been assigned a card value. Rank and suits are assigned upon acceptance. Your new character's suit will not manifest until they are accepted into the game.
▶ All TDMs are game canon. This TDM acts as the game's April event.
▶ Current characters may top level on the TDM. Current characters posting to the TDM should note they are currently in-game in the subject line.
▶ The top level directory is for new characters only.
▶ If you aren't satisfied with the prompts on this TDM please feel free to check out our LOCATIONS to explore more of the resort.
▶ Smut threads that take place on this TDM can be used for rewards. If both parties in the smut thread join the game, you may retroactively apply the character's initial card values to your 52 bank. If one character does not join the game, the thread will not be applicable toward rewards as that character would not have a card value.
▶ We ask you to kindly add content warnings to your threads as appropriate.
▶ If you do not currently have permissions and kinks listed in your character’s journal we suggest leaving a note in your top level of any limits or boundaries for other players to reference.
no subject
Even so, Kajiyama really is jumpy. He wonders if this is what attracted Dabi to the other in the first place, this reactive, indignant nature that makes him step back even as he tries to argue Tomura's points. That stance, defiance on a thin thread, makes him look like he's waiting for the right cue to run away, and Tomura's seen this before, in nervous animals that tried to stand their ground before inevitably giving in to the meaner, more vicious one. If Tomura lunged at him, would he take off?
It's tempting, but he holds back on testing that theory. For now, he stays where he is and starts shaking the pollen out of his hair, creating a new, smaller dust cloud that makes him sneeze in the direction of open grass. Upon recovery, he eyes Kajiyama with some weariness in the middle of his next phase of grumbling. For now, he disregards the second part, retorting to the first in exasperation: ]
You're the weird one. You don't even agree with yourself. Dabi's a smoker, you know, do you complain to him?
[ Maybe he shouldn't have said that, because he's potentially just made things very annoying for Dabi. Tomura will consider making it up to him later, but right now, he's more interested in watching Kajiyama's reaction to this small detail, dropped like a piece of bait into the river. Really, this whole thing is inconsequential, the kind of petty prodding and arguing that holds no stakes, that would gain Tomura nothing in the long run, only some temporary entertainment. ]
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That's -- whatever. It's not like he smokes around me. Then I would. Or just leave. [ It's probably just a coincidence that he's never been around Dabi while he still reeks, anyway. There's a moment's hesitation before he grits his teeth and forges on. ] -- and that's not even the point! What're you taking all that seriously for, huh? You go around taking everything personally like that?
[ This is extremely rich coming from such a confrontational, easily-affronted little shit like him, but ... he knows he has a point. He knows he does! (Does he?) Fuuta's delivery is huffy and indignant, each word barked out with feigned confidence, though his tense body language betrays the fact that he doesn't particularly want to be having this argument; a part of him knows that he'd been in the wrong, after all. ]
I didn't say anything wrong then, and I'm not the one bringing it back up when it doesn't have anything to do with what's going on. You're just pissy 'cause you're covered in ... whatever that stuff is, so you're being bitchy at me. S'not like I'm the one saying you can eat shit right now just 'cause you're a smoker or anything, is it? [ In fact -- as the waft of pollen fluffed out from Tomura's hair continues to settle around and over him, Fuuta huffs before snapping, ] S'not like I'd mind helping you if you need proof I'm not the one with a problem here.
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Instead, he just lets Kajiyama argue. He's used to being the villain, real or imagined, and if anyone's been on the internet for any length of time, they would know "I never said that" or "I'm not pissed, dumbass" is the way to fight a losing battle. In the meantime, Tomura just turns his eyes vaguely skyward before taking his shirt by the back of the neck and tugging; he's already a poor candidate to care about partial nudity, and even moreso in the context of this depraved resort.
When the shirt comes off and the ambient air hits his bare torso, it gives him pause. His shirt is thin, but the temperatures don't feel any cooler against his skin, meaning he's probably running too hot to really feel it. That sounds an alarm bell in the back of his mind, but—not fucking again, right? He already had a week straight of this shit.
It'll go away if he just ignores it, probably. He shakes his shirt out somewhere off to the side, the powder rolling off of it in waves. It helps... a little? The yellow is a little less prominent when he inspects it.
And when Kajiyama finally huffs out his concluding remark, Tomura turns eyes back on him. Helping him, huh? ]
What d'you wanna do then? [ he intones drily. The shirt gets chucked in Kajiyama's direction—right in the face if he doesn't catch it. ] Wanna do my laundry for me? [ He steps in again, as close as he can to loom over the shorter man. ] Wanna buy me some new clothes? Or you wanna give me the clothes off your back?
[ Wanna suck me off behind a tree, if this shit's an aphrodisiac? He bites that one back. He's not fucking desperate, and who knows if this will turn out like that anyway. Not to mention he's not exactly looking to take this little spat in that direction; if it's just reaction he wants, any of his other suggestions will probably do the job. ]
no subject
Then the thrown shirt catches him smack in the face.
Fuuta ends up stumbling back a half-step with a startled yip, both hands flying up to claw the fabric off his face; even if the worst of the pollen's been shaken off, it still leaves a fine dusting of yellow in his hair and on his face, and he comes up coughing, trying to blink away a fleck of pollen that's gotten into his good eye. Which just leaves him all the more unguarded when Tomura closes the distance between them -- he stumbles back another half-step, and the only reason he doesn't back off further is because the heel of his sneaker bumps against the raised bricks that mark the edge of the walkway they're on. ]
F-fine! [ It comes out a little squeaky and flustered, but it's not like he doesn't mean it. He growls out each word as firmly as he can, while shoving that crumpled-up shirt back towards Tomura's arms; he's going to drop it on the ground if Tomura doesn't take it, because it's not like he wants it. ] You think I won't? I said I'd do it.
[ 'It' being handing over his own clothes. Not without some reluctance, because he sure doesn't have a surplus of chips to be wasting on replacements, but pride trumps practicality. Fuuta leans back as he grabs the bottom hem of his hoodie to yank up, pulling the garment up and off over his head. The thin T-shirt he's wearing underneath hikes up from the tug of fabric, revealing a blanket of ugly bruises splashed over his right hip and side, but Fuuta's quick to tug his shirt back down as soon as the hoodie's off. ]
Here. Take it.
[ He buys his tops a little baggy in the first place, so it should fit Tomura just fine, he thinks, as he holds the garment out with one hand. His other hand is raised so he can turn his head away to sneeze into the shoulder of his T-shirt. Ugh. He totally got a big whiff of this shit from getting that shirt thrown in his face. His eye feels a little watery, and his skin's starting to feel weirdly itchy and a little hot. It better not be something he's allergic to, he thinks. He's got enough bullshit going on without having to deal with hay fever on top of it all. ]
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It is a bit unanticipated that Kajiyama actually takes his suggestion seriously. There's a slight widening of his eyes in interest as he takes his own shirt back, then follows the path of Kajiyama's hands back to the edge of his hoodie. Oh—he's really gonna do it. An amused exhale rushes through his nose as he watches Kajiyama pull off that hoodie—it's only because he finds it funny that he's paying enough attention to note the smattering of bruises that a brief lift of the undershirt reveals. At the moment, Tomura thinks nothing of it: he's seen enough people sore and bruised from their idea of "play" that it doesn't immediately seem remarkable. ]
Huh. [ In that mild, amused tone before he takes the hoodie. Stylistically, he doesn't object to a fairly comfortable, nondescript piece of clothing, and since Kajiyama had gone into all the trouble, he'll put it on, even if he doesn't need it. One arm and his head go through their respective holes first, then a transferring of his T-shirt, then the other arm. It fits, more or less. His sturdier build fills out the arms and torso area a little more, and the ends of the hoodie stop around his waistband, when it's probably meant to fall lower. He stuffs his shed tee into the pocket of the hoodie and proceeds to scoop his hair out from the neckline—even so, it's warm. Jeez, the guy had really worn something like this to a place that feels like a greenhouse. ]
More to your liking, mister? [ he asks in a dry, sarcastic drawl as he turns his head to face Kajiyama again. ] Do you usually get that bothered by some flower pollen? Or are you embarrassed to see someone shirtless?
[ No word of thanks, unfortunately—as far as he was concerned though, the avalanche of pollen hadn't been a big deal in the first place. ]
no subject
Case in point, he ends up shifting a bit restlessly even as Tomura adjusts the hoodie -- rubbing at his arms where they feel kind of itchy, and tugging at the neck of his T-shirt to keep the thin fabric from sticking to his skin. Even the T-shirt hangs a bit loose off him, his arms scrawny and pale under the baggy hang of fabric, and it's partly just that he feels a little self-conscious about it. Though -- huh. Weird, how he's feeling kind of sweaty and clammy for no real reason. Fuuta frowns as he rubs at his arms again, feeling his skin rise up with goosebumps.
Oh, this fucking better not be ... ]
Huh? [ There's definitely a note of unease creeping into his expression as he looks back to Tomura. First of all -- ] Don't call me that. [ 'Mister?' What the hell. ] And I'm not bothered. Or embarrassed.
[ He sure looks it, though, his cheeks starting to flush hot. His face feels a little hot. Fuuta bites his lip nervously as he scuffs a hand through his hair, fidgeting to try and ease some of the restless energy crawling through his nerves. -- surely, this is just that he's feeling awkward about talking to this guy. Yeah, surely that's all. He is not going to think about alternative explanations. ]
It's just ... I dunno. I might be a little allergic to this stuff. [ That's gotta be why his breaths are coming a little shallower. Surely. ] -- look, whatever, that's not the point. You don't gotta give the hoodie back or anything, but now you can't give me any shit over what I said to you online, alright? [ Clearly, that's been bothering him this whole time, and Fuuta tries to ignore the heat in his face as he points at Tomura. ] You're the one who misunderstood what I was saying anyway, but ... -- now we're even, right! Since I'm lending you a hand, even after all that shit!
no subject
This time, it's by chance more than anything that he notices Kajiyama's fidgeting, the way he rubs his arms and tugs the T-shirt away from his skin. The moment Tomura catches on is one he has to just... sort of stare blankly. If anything, this little act of generosity seems to have caused more trouble for both of them. Tomura would've been fine walking around shirtless or covered in pollen (grinding levels in a mountain against a miniboss that barely slept? not a whole lot of time to worry about laundry), and instead of doing what's most comfortable for both of them, they're like this: him in this stuffy sweatshirt in a greenhouse too hot for him, Kajiyama either some flavor of cold or uncomfortable.
This is going so well..? ]
Would you prefer something else? Like "young master"?
[ "Mister" is just easier, shorter, but really it's spoiled lordling the energy Kajiyama's giving: fussy, demanding, indignant. The impropriety of smoking and walking around with some flower dust, good heavens! Whatever. Tomura intends on mostly ignoring Kajiyama's friendly advice, as he has been doing, evidently marked in the way he turns on his heels and starts following the path out of the orchard. He's so ready to let it drop, write this petty bickering off as hopeless, a lost cause, like a heavy stone released four stories up. So it's unexpected, a little, when the guy walks it back slightly.
Tomura stops in his tracks just for a second to stare back at Kajiyama. ]
Why say it in the first place if it makes you feel like you owe someone?
[ Hell, he's not sure if that's better or worse. Not like it doesn't give him a little flash in the pan feeling of victory to have Kajiyama sort of, begrudgingly and indirectly, concede that his opinion wasn't needed; at the same time he doesn't get it, how someone would boldly open his mouth only to falter in conviction. He's not surprised, but he doesn't get it; at least when he gives some canned bullshit response he didn't believe in, he does so unapologetically. He's unapologetic about the truthful responses too.
In the end, the first reaction seems to win out, even if just by a bit, because if Kajiyama doesn't follow, he calls back a curt "Oi, come here." He's headed toward the Conservatory exit so he can get back down to his room and change. Maybe shower. Probably give back the hoodie, because he's bulky enough this doesn't exactly fit him as loose as he prefers. Anything, really. If he noticed Kajiyama's restlessness earlier, it's like it hits him tenfold all of a sudden now that he's started moving. That unsettling feeling crawling up his legs, down his chest, toward his center. Fuck. It's too hot. ]
no subject
What -- no. Don't call me that. Why do so many people here use stupid nicknames. [ Even setting aside people who still insist on calling him dumb rabbit-related bullshit weeks and weeks after that stupid game, too many people here seem allergic to just using names. Like normal, functional people. ] You're supposed to call people by their name. Kajiyama. I'm Kajiyama.
[ Whatever, though. It's not like he thinks this guy actually cares, or is going to remember his name. That's fine, that's not the point, anyway.
What's much more important is that he 'win' this not-quite-argument.
He'd jolted to a stop a half-beat after Tomura had, expression hardening and shoulders tensing at that pointed comment. And though it looks for a moment like he's about to hang back, that curt call for him to come along ends up being redundant -- Fuuta stomps after Tomura soon enough, shoulders squared and a sliver of jagged teeth bared as he snaps out his response. ]
Haa?! It's not like I said anything wrong! [ His sneaker-soles squeak off the flooring as he speed-walks to catch up to Tomura, blustering the whole way. ] It's not like I said anything unreasonable! It's just ... you're the one who started getting pissy about it? It's not like it's my fault ...
[ There's a sharp disconnect there, between what he's saying and how he's saying it. For as pointed and provocative as his word choice is, his delivery wobbles a bit at the edges, like he's trying to convince himself of what he's saying it even as the words are leaving him. (Funny, that. They would have come easier, without any hesitation, a few years ago.) Fuuta's steps briefly falter before he swallows thickly and catches up once more. ]
It just bothered me, alright. I don't owe you anything, I didn't do anything wrong. You get it?
sorry for the delay, rl kicked my ass
What's an exchange of names when they could bicker about some meaningless nonsense instead?
The scuff of shoes on the boardwalk and the rise of that indignant voice tells him he's being followed after all. Whereas Kajiyama is all growing bluster, Tomura's mood is anchored in the sulking and dour, faintly annoyed by his reluctant companion's continued doubling down and the rising temperature of this space. Absently, he draws the sleeve of the borrowed hoodie around his neck, where a thin sheen of sweat has begun to stick between fabric and the long drape of his hair. He's so wrapped up in it—the prickle beneath his skin, the heat creeping into his body, the insistence Kajiyama keeps trying to feed him—he doesn't go out and around. Instead, he unconsciously retraces the steps that had brought him here—into the foliage of the green labyrinth, this particular entrance blending almost seamlessly into the low shrubs scattered around the orchard.
Does he "get it"? ]
Then why bother with all this shit, [ he says, a rough edge of distraction creeping into his voice. The whole "I'll do you a favor so just drop it" song and dance sure sounds like some type of regret, even if not guilt. Unless— ] You're one of those people who butts in with an opinion and gets annoyed when you get an answer, huh? If you can't deal with that, then don't open your mouth in the first place. Didn't anyone teach you that?
[ Like Tomura's one to talk about learning courtesy... At least he stands by the words he speaks (or at least he prefers to think so), although that tendency is probably attributable to equal parts principled resolve and sheer bullheadedness. ]
no problem, sorry for the delay on my end as well, hope you're faring better now!
He'd been distractedly watching Tomura brush his arm through his hair, gaze oddly captured by the cascade of his hair and the faint sheen of sweat against the column of his throat, and Fuuta needs a second to process what he's being told. (Why does his head feel weirdly foggy? There's no reason for him to be feeling this heated when he's surrendered his hoodie.) It's only once his brain catches up that he makes an indignant little bark of a noise, expression hardening in irritation. ]
That's --
[ 'not true,' he starts to say. Except the words catch on his tongue, because it'd be a bald-faced lie. He wants to be right, after all. He wants to run his mouth, and he wants to argue, but more than either of those, he wants to be acknowledged as right. ]
-- w-who said I can't take it, huh?! [ Weak. Even as he says it, he knows this is fucking cringe. ] People can say whatever they want?! It's not like I was saying you ... can't. I’m — just allowed to say I think you’re overreacting! ‘Cause you did! So I didn’t —
[ Of course it all circles back to that insistence that he wasn’t in the wrong, that he wasn’t the one who said anything bad. But before he can repeat himself for the Nth time, he’s interrupted as he stumbles over his own feet; he catches himself before he can fall, but it does jolt him out of his thoughts as he’s abruptly made aware of his condition. ]
… why’s it so hot in here. [ He feels itchy with heat, almost a little dizzy, and even as he gives that low mutter under breath, he’s aware of what the alternative possibility is. That it’s very likely it’s not their surroundings that are heating up, but him . — he doesn’t want to think about it. A nervous swallow as he swipes the back of his hand over his jaw to catch a stray bead of sweat. ] Hey, where’re you even going. You’re the one who said to follow …
ty ty and no worries about any delay!!
What's worse is that he wasn't even trying to wholly disregard Kajiyama's words. He tried to follow the logic, if only to poke holes in it later. And instead of following, he's beset with a distraction that draws his attention elsewhere: to the heat under his skin, the sensitive prickle of it against the brush of fabric, an annoying itch that takes hold with even the slightest bump against his combative accompaniment. Is the path of their debate circular, exactly? He can't tell anymore, but even if Kajiyama is saying something new, they don't exactly seem to be going anywhere.
Unlike their actual, physical pathing, which is at least making progress, although it's not any more straightforward. ]
Where do you think? Back out.
[ He says it like it's obvious. Someone had definitely become way too absorbed in the arguing and the... sudden physical peculiarities besetting him that he's autopiloted back the way he came in. Is there a different route out? If so, the thought to search for it hadn't made it through all the damn noise in his head. ]
To throw this shit in the laundry. It's probably—
[ getting hard to ignore. The heat. The distraction. The ache. He doesn't want to call it what it likely is, or put words to the way his body is reacting to it, as though acknowledging it only makes it more potent, a capitulation to a reality he doesn't particularly want to deal with. But even so, he can guess at one inciting factor. ]
—to blame.