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meme overflow, psls, game aus, silly text threads, fake jamjars. whatever strikes our fancy, toss it in here. no need for plotting,
this is a lawless land.
before tagging me here, please make sure that you:
- have already read all of Akira's permissions,
- mark any persona 5 spoilers or nsfw in the subject line,
- contact me first (
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Thankfully Akira is a fine host. A weird one, considering his cat speaks, but a fine host all the same until they can figure out whatever the hell it is that's going on.
Right now? Morgana is missing, likely tired of getting his face squished by Kazuya and receiving a far too eager petting. He's probably at Haru's face, if Kazuya can remember Akira's social circle well enough. Which leaves him alone, with his would-be saviour as he sits upside down on the couch, slamming buttons on his gracious hosts ancient console and controller to try and play some kind of video game.]
Not enough money for a newer system, huh?
[Too bad. He's curious what kind of games they apparently have in the future. It's not even that far into the future, but far enough that nothing he knows is correct anymore! He's even gotten made fun of for his dated memes....]
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[That, and... Well. Akira will always buy the thing that he can get a better deal for. That part he isn't going to say, though.
It's funny, really, how natural it's become for them to sit together during evenings and afternoons like this. If he didn't come home from school and see Kazuya in his room at some point, it would feel... strange. Like something's missing. He shouldn't feel that way, probably, about Kazuya in particular. The mysterious boy from the depths of Mementos, whose memories don't match the Tokyo that Akira knows... There's no telling what that could mean for them, and as the season is changing, he also knows that his time to uncover the truth is running out.
But it doesn't change how living together with him in this room feels right. It feels like a friend he didn't know he was missing.]
If you ever wanted to try something newer, we could always visit Futaba. Most of her stuff is for computers, but I wouldn't be surprised if she had a console sitting around somewhere.
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[ More buttons pressed. Quick, precise. And yet Kazuya is still met with a Game Over screen only a few scant seconds later. If he thinks about it, he's pretty sure that these older games were rigged to be unbearably hard, aren't they? Something about wanting to increase the length of time someone spent playing....
And even if that's not right, that's the story he's sticking to. ]
I'd hate to impose on her just to play a video game. She's not technically my friend, after all.
[ Rather, it feels strangely like there's still a wall of mistrust. He doesn't blame Akira's friends for it. He knows that they also trust Akira and his judgement and therefore will tolerate and make nice, but there's just something that's preventing him from really becoming part of "the group", so to speak.
It's likely due to Mementos, and what it means to them. From his understanding, it's not as if good things had happened there. Quite a fight, from what Akira has told him.
He hums, relaxes a little too hard, and lets his head make a soft thunk from where it his the floor as he casts his gaze over to Akira.
Akira, who absolutely could (and should have, in his opinion) thrown him out on his ass once more questions than answers started popping up. It'd have at least made him feel better about hiding certain things from him... ]
Hey, tell me what Mementos is again? I keep trying to think about why I might have ended up trapped in an isekai, but I keep coming up blank. Far as I'm aware, I definitely didn't have a near death experience.
you take responsibility for your actions right this second
I'm dying.
I can feel it, these are my last moments on earth. There's still so much I wanna see and wanna do, but...
I'm sooooooo hungryyyyy......
and what if i DO. what THEN.
I can make something for you if you want, too, but that'll take longer. I haven't gone grocery shopping in a bit.
(◡‿◡✿) (ʘ‿ʘ✿)
If that's okay.
You do need your groceries for you, man.
(╯✧▽✧)╯
What do you feel like eating? Don't hold back, I can take it.
sneaks back in here to bite u
[ As if that's an actual question. Oh, yeah, also, ]
Of course we're gonna be chowing together, man! Easiest way to make it taste even better.
YAY!!!
[It's a line that could be casual, could be teasing. It's one that can easily cloak the burst of warmth in his chest.]
Let me take a guess. Tonkatsu broth for you?
[Maybe he can't guess at coffee preferences for Ryuji, but this is practically the next best thing.]
open up yama...
And so, he hadn't been particularly surprised to hear the alphas there decided to steer clear. He'd been all but prepared to collect his belongings and head back home, resigned to weathering his oncoming heat alone. But then the door to his room creaked open; in stepped someone without the distinct scent of an alpha -- a beta, one with tousled dark hair. He must have drawn the short straw, or perhaps he was simply strapped for extra cash.
Either way, those three days spent with that beta were enough to satisfy his heat, cutting it shorter than however long it would take without any company. He can't deny that it was far better than being alone. And so he's back, ushered into a room with nothing more than a bed and a couple of shelves. One is stocked with light snacks and bottles of water; the other contains boxes of toys. Minato wanders over to the bed and tugs his scarf off, glancing up as he hears the door creak open again.
It's -- oh. The same beta from last time? ]
...Kurusu, right?
[ Though he's trying to remain measured, there's already a light flush within his cheeks as he starts tugging his shirt off as well. They both know why they're here. There's no need to delay. Akira will be here for however many nights necessary; Minato will compensate him for his time. It's merely an arrangement of convenience. ]
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[ Bro...bro, that's the secret love language. ]
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[Ah...
Akira usually isn't that direct about it, but he already sent it...]
happy 3am
Like how it made us really like cheese and other mouse stuff?
i'm cooked. there's no better time to do this.
Sometimes I wonder if it made me like cheese more than I used to.
What about you?
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But I dunno I was just thinking about if something super weird happened and we got stuck like that out in the real world too.
Would we still be the same?
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We still had our masks, right? That means it's still us, no matter what.
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Yeah.
I'll always have your back. Doesn't matter what we are.
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We could help each other up to get to all the good cheese!
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[It'll always warm him through to hear, even if it's for something silly like this.
Though this begs the question-]
If we go out for cheese, is that like going out for ramen?
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Cause ramen's a special really good meal, right? But so is cheese, but mice eat cheese like an everyday thing so it's not the same.
Maybe a special kind of cheese?
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Different flavors could end up equaling different things. A side of rice with mackerel, a comfort plate of curry, an expensive wagyu steak... Something like that.
bursts in here with shukita (NSFW we know what we are here for (and maybe P5R spoilers))
The initial proposal had been to have Akira over to one of his school's studios to model. They hadn't gotten far in the attempt, what with Yusuke hemming and hawing over how much tension was in Akira's body and how he needed him to "act natural" for the painting. It hadn't helped that Yusuke himself couldn't really settle at the canvas as the idea that someone could walk in and see his friend even partially naked gnawed at him. Something like that has never bothered him before and yet before Akira could even remove his pants, Yusuke was calling it off.
So they have settled back in a familiar place- the attic of LeBlanc, a place of comfort for both of them. Morgana has taken his leave despite Yusuke's invitation for him to stay. The odd look his friend had given him at his offering and the Nah, I'm good tone of his words as he had jumped up onto the windowsill and then out into the neighborhood proper left Yusuke wondering if perhaps he had missed some social context somewhere. Maybe he can ask Morgana about that later.
Right now, the lighting in the room is perfect, his canvas and supplies at the ready, and the artist sits a little ways away from his model partially blocked from view. He hasn't looked up as he has assembled his paints to see if Akira has already stripped or not.]
Do let me know if there is anything I can do to help you feel more at ease. You are doing me a wonderful favor by modeling for me, so do not hesitate to ask for anything.
KICKS DOWN THE DOOR
If anything, I feel like I should apologize. I didn't realize I was that tense, but I don't know what's gotten into me.
[He's said it so many times, but maybe actually doing it... Maybe that's where the tension is coming from. It isn't like he's never been naked in front of Yusuke before, or usually cares about being seen, either...
Something flutters in his stomach, regardless. He tries to make a joke to lighten the atmosphere before a hole can be poked in it.]
We could always do what I usually do if I'm worn out. At least, if you don't mind an impromptu trip to the bathhouse, or me calling in a favor for a massage.
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[He says that with a little more fervor than originally intended but he means it all the same.]
Being the subject of a painting is already a rather intimate request and asking you to bare it all for the purposes of beauty is a vulnerable state to be in. Your comfort is priority over all else.
[He had had these similar thoughts when originally trying to paint Ann. Though, if he was truly honest with himself, he wasn't as concerned with her comfort as he really should have been. Spending time with her and the other thieves has taught him a lot about how to interpret people. Even if getting to know Ann means he is much less inclined to want to paint her in that fashion. Funny, then, that getting to know Akira made that desire grow.
With his paints now set aside perfectly and his current favorite palette propped up next to him, Yusuke can spare a glance towards his friend.
Akira's long and slender fingers linger on the buttons of his shirt, with fingertips barely grazing the skin underneath. It's a little open from the top, a peek at his chest, and that sight in and of itself gets Yusuke's mind racing with his hand already reaching for his pencil. He stills just before gripping it.]
The bathhouse?
[He perks up.]
That is a wonderful idea! Perhaps its refreshing heat would be a boon for both of our bodies.
[As soon as he says this, his face then immediately falls.]
Ah, but I do not have the funds to accompany you on such an excursion. If going will help you, I will wait here until you return to begin our painting session.
[Yes. He will sit here, alone, in Akira's room for however long it takes.]
hi im here.... dodging captcha
Yes, I just started! It's really cute... and there's so many cats to collect!
@deserumi ; we know what it is.
He's here for one purpose, and one purpose only.
Maybe he should've felt bad for digging. He didn't. At the end of the day, Akira is a Phantom Thief, the leader, and he has no qualms about using every resource at his disposal for his goal. Futaba hadn't understood when he asked her to look, but she had accepted it. Trusted him, and that's always more than he could ever ask for. It had taken a little while to find the location, but it was faster than Akira thought it should've been.
Maybe the info had always been easy to find, but Akira was the only one who chose to look.
A two hour drive out from Tokyo, and he's arrived in a town that's nostalgic for the few things he has left to miss. He's here on a chance, a hope, a prayer - and Akira cannot rest until he determines the truth. His heart can't be at ease without determining this last knot of pain.
They didn't want the same thing. At least not then. But maybe some parts of them will always be terribly alike.
A glance at the paper in his pocket leads him down a narrow street, to a small house tucked away in a tiny corner. It's a row of little houses all alike aside from their colors, their finer details, but it's more peaceful than the rest of the town somehow. He thinks it'll be the one that's somber, but a look at the numbering tells him it's further down. Three. Two.
Akira stops at a small house, just a little brighter than the rest. Its front is decorated with colorful boxed flowers, neatly organized rows. A cute windchime hangs from the top of the open window, kayaributa standing sigil on the sill against mosquito intruders.
There is a pang in his chest, for something he has never had.
It beats just a little faster as a woman makes her way up the hill; he can see her approach from a distance. He has never seen her so full of life before, wearing airy summer clothes and a grocery bag dangling from her fingers, but even from a short distance he recognizes her immediately. Her red hair shines under the sun.
His heart beats faster, but his body is still, calm. The paper with handwritten instructions doesn't shake in his hand as he waits the minutes until she's close enough to speak.]
Excuse me. [Calm and even. Distant but polite, the slightest hints of warmth. She must not know that he recognizes her.] Do you know if there's someone in this neighborhood named Rumi?
[No matter what, Akira will determine the truth.]
scoops u into my arms
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What about you, Kurusu-kun? Did you have a favorite?
bet you thought i forgo about this but it's been pinned the whole TIME (DIO VOICE)
The doctors assumed it was delirium brought on by the dramatic event. Amnesia. False memories. It made sense.
It made sense. The medication doled out to her made sense. The hours spent in a small office with a person meant to coax and work through her fears made sense. The inpatient, outpatient, follow-up visits and care given by her grandparents, extended family - it all made sense.
Takuto's disappearance didn't make sense. Doctors hadn't seen him. Her grandparents didn't mention him. A rock was missing and no one-
No, someone knew and she-
Could ask. Could pull up the text messages numbering thousands. Different threads, different photos, years of phone conversations condensed and ported to new models. She could pull it up. Could text. Demand answers and ask because her grief spills from more than those blood soaked bodies on the ground.
He left, but she doesn't believe it. He needs time, maybe. It was horrible - she can't stand to think about it, even dulled with medication meant to help her sleep.
He needs time. That's all. She loves him, so she can give it. He won't abandon her. He'll be back.
And when he gets back, when he texts, when he reaches out, when she musters up enough courage to hit send on a draft of her address under 'We'll leave first thing tomorrow!'-
She'll let him have it for going this long without speaking. She'll lay into him for spending those moments alone. He was always like that. Always and-
There's a boy. An unknown, young man near the front of her home. It makes her uneasy, for a second. Strangers always do these days, but it doesn't stop her voice from coming out confidant, warm. ]
You found me. [ But he's-
New? People don't move into this town unless they're five generations in it. She would recognize the babies born here, even if they grew up to look entirely different. She's sure of it. ]
...Are you here to make a delivery? You're not the usual guy.
@enteloki ; tfln overflow
And if there's only one chair in the safe room?
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That's a joke.
I'll sleep on the floor of the rest area.