#＊ 💥 𝐯.one，今：another one bites the dust！！

[quirofiliac]

@desuetmort

a-yeong, over a speaker: GO TO THERAPY

"Hmm-- the pot calling the kettle black, it seems..."

#desuetmort #＊ 💥 持味：in character. #＊ 💥 𝐯.one，今：another one bites the dust！！ #u need some new material a-yeong no offense </3

[sniitest]

test tag replacement

＊ 💥     𝐯.one，今：another one bites the dust！！

＊ 💥     𝐯.two，前：all i want is a peaceful life…

＊ 💥     𝐯.three，神：this is the life i deserve！！

#＊ 💥 摘発：out of character. #＊ 💥 𝐊𝐘，quirofiliac：it's just that it's in my nature to kill… #＊ 💥 𝐯.one，今：another one bites the dust！！ #＊ 💥 𝐯.two，前：all i want is a peaceful life… #＊ 💥 𝐯.three，神：this is the life i deserve！！

[quirofiliac]

@etcnnante: nijimura keicho ／💣

"Hmm... Keicho, if I may?" his request for an audience was both calm and light, tone retaining a certain (how unbecoming. it reminds him of a woman... he won't do it again.) softness. Head canted, unveiling a pair of distant eyes from behind his newspaper. Along came a raise of an eyebrow, too. "I've noticed that you seem... "happier" as of late," he remarked after wards, the same brow from before sinking as he proceeded. A small smirk (as smug as he wants, he makes this one act out of jest.) soon tugged across his lips, voice taking on a bit of a... well-humored... concern. "Usually, in my experience... that means you've found someone you like "hanging out" with."

#etcnnante #etcnnante: nijimura keicho #＊ 💥 𝐯.one，今：another one bites the dust！！ #＊ 💥 持味：in character. #* points THREATENINGLY at you *

[quirofiliac]

@ristorantebar ／💣

"Ah. You must be..." he paused, taking the time to scan over the youth with a quick, but brief, glance. Both of his eyebrows remained in place, though a bit of pressure persisted-- teetering on the edge of furrowing, Kira wondered if it was simply "fate" for him to come into contact with those who might've recognized him. "... Hm, you're one of Giorno's friends, are you not?" came the inquiry after, head tilting a bit to the left with one hand moving to (ugh. he looks like he smells.) brush aside a loose tuft of blond hair. "We have a bit of..." he pauses again, pressing his tongue into teeth before proceeding, "ahem... history together."

#ristorantebar #＊ 💥 𝐯.one，今：another one bites the dust！！ #＊ 💥 持味：in character. #victoria........ my beloved (platonic)......... hello........ #kira's adventures in italy... begin NOW.

[quirofiliac]

@determinazione ／💣

"Giorno." Boy's name was spoken with the utmost clarity, practically stabbing through the near silence. An hour's gone by since Rohan's departure from the residence (he wagers it'll be at least two more hours. that's ample time.) with nothing but the television -- showing a rerun of Iron Chef -- as the only background noise. One leg moves, crossing itself over its opposite as he turns his head. "... Would you say--" head tilts then, eyes glossing over the youth at first before focusing, "--that you hate your father?"

#determinazione #＊ 💥 持味：in character. #＊ 💥 𝐯.one，今：another one bites the dust！！ #* points at you decisively *

[quirofiliac]

@epitaffia: solido naso ／💣

"Pardon me," Kira piped up after a minute (the seconds ticked by in his head, counted slowly and meticulously.) of time passed, turning ever so slightly to avoid bumping shoulders with another. His eyes, hovering around the horizon line, didn't move nor did he think to grab a glance at the other making their exit. "I couldn't help but notice that... man?" A toss of head allowed him to glance over his shoulder (judging from the size of his footprints, left behind in the sand, he was about the same height as kira. how interesting.) before glancing away. "Ahem, my apologies, I meant to say: was he--" eyes squint, an eyebrow rising in tandem, "--harassing you?"

#epitaffia #＊ 💥 持味：in character. #＊ 💥 𝐯.one，今：another one bites the dust！！ #hiiii leaf. <3 #are u ready for solido to get accused of criminal acts at the beach.........

[quirofiliac]

@thusspoke ／ 💣

"Dear..." he spoke up, moving left hand up to his lips to gently lick its thumb before flipping to the next page (he doesn't retain anything. he's read this thing more times than he can count.) in his book. Eyes blinked up from its contents, flicking to the mangaka only to avert seconds later. His tone, smooth as butter, took precedence over just about everything else-- were it not for that pesky, rapid tapping of his right foot. "What would it take for you to, ah, "look the other way" if I did something... heh, bad?"

#thusspoke #＊ 💥 持味：in character. #＊ 💥 𝐯.one，今：another one bites the dust！！ #* smashes a pie in your face * hi.

[quirofiliac]

@coollyinterferes​ ／↪️ moved.

Kira suffered from a certain "pet peeve" (but so did everyone. it was normal to have that one thing that got on your last nerve-- even his own mother had a few.) and it was simple: when people couldn't take "no" for an answer. As his conversation -- hostage situation, more like it... -- with Robert progressed, that knot within his stomach continued growing in size. It felt almost like it was collecting more of that metaphorical rope (his own intestines the supply, endless and boundless.) and bunching it all up into one tight, compact ball of meaty and bloody cord. What made it worse that he knew it wasn't Robert's fault... not exactly, anyway.

Common sense dictated it impossible for everybody to be on the "same page" all at once; there would always be that one bad apple that'd ruin it see things another way. Generally speaking, that wasn't bad. If you're lenient, anyway. Nonetheless, however, it'd be ridiculous of him to expect such a thing (to show some consideration, to have some goddamn compassion.) of a borderline stranger.

"I will... keep that in mind then."

His response was canned, a phrase he's been forced to repeat time and time again. Robert insisting on "returning the favor" wasn't new (it makes him want to scream.) nor was it presenting him with any sort of impasse. This was a situation he's somewhat familiar with, partly in due to his multitude of years stuck in customer service. Many would say that customers could be the absolute worst brand of human and, while Kira agreed, that was only a half-truth.

Could be was the key phrase in this whole thing. Now, why was that? How could that be?

Well... have you ever had the displeasure of having a coworker so bad, so useless, so meticulously awful that you'd rather blow your fucking brains out than have to work with them? Yes? No? Maybe?

Or, perhaps, all of that was a little too on the nose. Whatever. It really doesn't matter.

What kind of coworkers a job offers could make or break a job. That was the true essence; it was a core fundamental, almost. Depending on who was on the schedule (if your boss was anywhere near competent, that is.) that day meant that that shift was one of three things. It could range anywhere from fantastic all the way to downright horrible. There was always that "healthy medium", too, of so-so, but there's a reason why no one ever really talks about those. They were just too humdrum, too samey, too plain to make particular note of.

For Kira, though, those were the best kinds of days. He preferred when nothing of import happened. That meant less anticipation and less anxiety (is it going to be as good... or as bad as the day prior? he hates that sort of worry. he doesn't care nor does he want to care.) regarding both the upcoming and faraway future. If he came home from a day of work feeling, well, about the same he did when waking up and driving the way up then that was a positive.

Having a good day wasn't necessarily a negative, keep in mind, but the high and then the inevitable comedown was. Even if he wasn't one to personally suffer from such an affliction, there's always something else to plague him. In his case, it specifically was the fatigue and exhaustion from "enjoying himself"-- in those cases, it was unavoidable. A few of his coworkers would always try and include him (their way of being nice, hosting a sort of... friendly or familial environment.) in their outings, insisting on taking pictures with him in frame and actually cognizant.

To their credit, they never tried to convince him to smile (was it worth anything to applaud the bare minimum, however?) for those photos. He supposed that that was... or had to be... worth something, at least.

"Oh, ah..." he's already begun to reply, mouth hanging halfway open as he took a brief pause to consider his next, few words. Eyes kept themselves focused on the horizon ahead, the sea's breeze admittedly a welcome change compared to the stale, stagnant air of Morioh otherwise. "It's... It's been a few years, so... It's fine. I do appreciate the sentiment."

A small bow of the head was given (why was that sad? people die all the time. he doesn't get it.) as a show of gratitude. Whether Robert actually witnessed it didn't matter much to him-- at this point, it's more-so a force of habit. As heartfelt as the other blond was, there remained this perpetual pang of aggravation in the back of Kira's skull. Much like a rat with any sort of food scraps, it scratched and gnawed at the bone. He expected a headache was going to spawn any second and send him down a mildly bumpy road with zero prep. Admittedly, he thought about patting himself down in search of spare aspirin, wondering if it was "preemptive" enough.

He would always carry some sort of medication on his person (a small bottle was more than enough. it wasn't required daily nor ever reached that capability but, rather, it's there if the situation called for it.) back at his previous job. Picked up as a piece of advice from the various magazines and radio shows he's bore witness to, he's come to understand that it was better to come overly prepared than not at all. If he wasn't in need of those minor pick-me-ups then, at least, one or two of his colleagues would be. There was always that one person that tried reliving their glory days, pulling an all-nighter from a wild bender only for reality to crash into them headfirst the morning after.

It's a tale as old as time, and he's never found it all that fascinating to begin with. Part of that was due to repetition, watching it happen over and over with the same person and rarely with anyone new. He supposed that was a good thing, all things considering... but it's still so boring and so iterative that it's been melded into the routine of a life that no longer exists.

In truth, he's still able to recollect the last time he's been in need of some additional "help". Pills were always that potential vice he'd try to avoid, reluctant towards the idea of accidentally having to rely on something entirely brand new. They weren't on the same level as drugs (but they could be, if people huffing paint and foraging for mushrooms out in the wild were any hint.) of course, but their close enough proximity nonetheless was more than enough cause for him to keep away.

Part of why the other man's condolences felt so strange to Kira was, truth be told, because of this evasion. Whereas he's able to envision Robert at a funeral service, head low and expression contorted (pussy. you're a man, aren't you? act like one. men don't cry.) into one of sorrow, he's off to the side away from the rest of the rabble. He's seated in a chair, one branching furthest off from the crowd in spite of the rites now being read out and drawing more unwanted attention onto him. To this day, he can still recall the looks everyone gave him (why do they look so sad? they all look so ugly. stop that. it's unsightly.) while he's made to stave off the creeping feeling of discomfort within his gut.

His knuckles were as pale and white as a ghost that day, all from gripping his chair and biting back (am i supposed to feel sad, too? i don't get it. i don't get it! i don't, i don't, i don't, i don't--) any outward shows of concern. He could only put on a thin, fragile mask of grief. Eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly, lips downturned in a meek frown, eyes red and irritated from too much rubbing tears that didn't seem to come-- it's all done in a pattern, a type of rhythm Kira's learned from watching others and understanding that timing was everything.

However, as consequence of all of that practice and all of that studying, he's been backed into a metaphorical (or was it literal?) corner. No one told him that expressing yourself was so exhausting, so borderline taxing that it rendered you an empty shell of who you might've been for the next few hours. He expected it to be mildly tiring. Everyone he's seen cry always seemed tired, anyway, so that was to be expected.

What he didn't expect, though, was having to explain himself. He was under the impression (misguided, misled, misinterpreted. he's been lied to and that pisses him off.) that no one would bother a grieving man. That was wrong. In fact, it was the exact opposite.

Too many questions (are you okay? do you need anything? do you want to talk? do you think--) with seemingly no "best" answer in sight. Everyone hounded him incessantly, hammering in on him with looks of concern (why are you looking at me like that? is there something on my face?) and queries they'd never ask him otherwise. At that point of time, Kira could clearly recall how overwhelming it all felt-- he was given no time to prepare, no time to think, no time to observe. All at once, they all swarmed him like a bunch of roaches (he doesn't know who they all are. he didn't think his parents had any friends.) with no end in sight.

None of them ever took "no" for an answer.

Exit was his only option in that circumstance and, as such, that's what he did. He remembers excusing himself (his voice a stammer, a stutter... embarrassing. they think he's trying not to cry so, at least, they back off slightly.) and taking a poor man's refuge within the restroom. His hands had gripped the sink's edge so tightly that day, and the way his fingernails scraped -- nearly cracking and breaking off into tiny, little pieces onto fake marble floor -- against the base still lingered in the back of his skull.

It's so annoying. Why was it all such a big deal? They're dead. That's all. End of story.

"You weren't kidding," he remarked, wedging a brick wall between his thoughts (he drags himself out of it by himself, fingers digging into and ripping dirt out from the earth itself.) and the him that's residing in the present. It should've been a comment made in jest with, perhaps, a bit of well-humored envy spliced in. They should've intermingled seamlessly like whiskey and ginger. "I think my parents might've, ah... gone to America once."

Eyes rolled, simulating meager contemplation as he appeared to ponder. His parents weren't as well-traveled as the man next to him (thank god. he doesn't think he'd be able to handle it, never finding the time to simply enjoy being at home and staying home.) but there was the occasional story he remembered his father regaling. None of them particularly caught Kira's attention, but there were a few details (an artifact... egypt... some old crone...) that stuck out like a sore thumb.

With his gaze still facing forward, Kira rubbed his lips together and canted his head mildly to the left. One hand revealed itself shortly after, moving to rub at the now exposed area of his neck. Lips furled in a modest grimace, as if he's only been made aware of this sudden ache (this is how people fidget without being rude, right?) mere seconds beforehand. He doesn't think to comment on the discovery via dialogue nor a noise that, otherwise, would've been involuntary.

"My father more-so," came the correction moments later, but Kira's polite (fuck. why did he have to do everything?) in the addition. His tone's light and soft, mixing in with the waves rolling in and out. "He, ah... used to travel when I was younger; he liked going to Egypt. My mother wasn't--"

It's then that the words snag on something (did he say too much?) sharp, and it's enough to bring him to an abrupt stop. Fingers clenched down on his neck (tell him the truth: did he say too much?) and gave one, hefty squeeze. He doesn't feel anything so he keeps squeezing and... nothing. He still feels nothing.

Was it his turn to speak? He doesn't recall. Were there any rules in the first place? He thinks there might've been. A conversation was always between, at least, two people. They took "turns". Kira knew that much. He had to have known that much!

"--... much for traveling, I..."

His grip releases (it leaves behind a pale spot that soon blemishes into an angry red.) and removes itself entirely. Moving his hand back into its designated pocket, Kira turned his head away from the other and shut his eyes. Clearing his throat, he mumbled an apology under his breath before proceeding.

"My apologies. I interrupted you," he offered as an explanation without yet turning his head. A scowl was gradually working itself across his features, and he's all-too familiar with the feeling. "It does seem, um..."

(i don't fucking care.)

"...like you've been all over the world."

#coollyinterferes #＊ 💥 持味：in character. #＊ 💥 𝐯.one，今：another one bites the dust！！ #ummmm < / 3 #😭 for some reason the post trimmer won't let me... trim the Original Thread anymore? im suspecting mayhaps it's bc of how old it could be #but otherwise i dont know and i am So Sorry that i had to do this omg JNDKMFKMDDKM 🙇🙇🙇 #anyway. AJFJGKMFFKMFKM #kira @ speedwagon: do you mind if i politely manipulate you into thinking i'm overly considerate. do you mind if i do that. huh. do you-- #long post for ts /

[quirofiliac]

@steavia ／ 💥

"Excuse me, ah-- ma'am..." he pipes up, voice low enough to get "lost" within the ambiance of Morioh (birds chirping, cars speeding by, chatter of passersby... all of it makes kira want to take a shotgun and jam it in his mouth.) but meeting the bare minimum of, hopefully, reaching the other's ear regardless. "Have those men..."

One hand raises up, slow and remaining steady in keeping itself in her line of sight. A small gesture's done after wards, all of its fingers save for the thumb curling inwards before pointing over his shoulder. Kira doesn't turn to follow the trajectory, judging purely based on where all of the... yelling and shouting (he doesn't know what's worse. when women won't shut the fuck up or when men can't.) was coming from.

"Ah, have they been bothering you?"

Upon his own face was an expression that wasn't too pleased with the situation, either. He's been watching from afar -- he doesn't dare say for how long, at first pondering if it was even worth involving himself in the first place -- for a while about a minute or so, gradually being led to a conclusion. Perhaps, he thought, that the two men had known her (they acted awfully chummy, that's for sure...) but further context clues led him away from that idea in a sharp u-turn.

Shrugging shortly after, Kira lowered his hand and carefully placed it a few arms' lengths away from her and upon neighboring tabletop. Allowing his fingers to drum on top of fake cedar, Kira canted his head. Expression slowly adjusted accordingly, too. One born of concern -- knitted eyebrows, lips pulled up in a frown, and eyes squinting only at their bottom lids.

It's one he's practiced. A lot. But it wasn't his favorite.

"I don't mean to impose--" he never does, "--but it's rather... difficult, I think... for me to see something so unpleasant."

Eyes panned down ("did those nasty men touch you?" is a question that played on his tongue, hanging idly off of his teeth.) towards her hands only to blink away. Gaze rose back up, situating itself on the spot between the body's woman's eyes moments later. One step's taken away from her table (some distance. should do them both some good.) in order to allow an incoming waiter room to pass by.

"I'll leave you to your lunch in... a, um... moment, if that's what you want." Right as he proceeds, he gives a shallow bow (don't chase me away, too. i'll just find another way anyway.) of the head. "I'm just... checking to make sure everything is alright. Usually, they're the sort to go inside and dine... not, um... heh, dine-out, I suppose is the saying."

#steavia #＊ 💥 持味：in character. #＊ 💥 𝐯.one，今：another one bites the dust！！ #hiiiieee victoria <3 #are you ready........... for This(TM). #also im soooo incredibly sorry this took so long to write up for u omg < / 3

[quirofiliac]

@lunarscaled ／ 💣

"It's almost like you want to die..." said under his breath, muffled behind sweat-slicked hand as his head's dipped a few inches down. His eyes, directed down at the toes of his shoes, didn't blink yet remained half-lidded. Face was inclined towards them (he can almost smell them. they smell like piss and shit-- is this what pathos smells like?) with lips slightly pursed. He's tucked both his hands into his pockets after a quick adjusting of tie, back straightening itself in the meanwhile. A sigh's heaved out, and it's one that's long and heavy. Eyes rolled, halting midway in order to peer up at a cloudy sky. "Oh, oops, did I say that out loud?"

#lunarscaled #＊ 💥 持味：in character. #＊ 💥 𝐯.one，今：another one bites the dust！！ #thank u for liking for a starter!! 🫶 :^)

[quirofiliac]

@etcnnante: keicho ／ cont.

For as brief as it was, Kira held onto the thought (he wants to hit something. keicho would be a good stand-in for "something".) of, simply put, ignoring him. After all, there was no reason for the elder to further implicate himself-- it wasn't, as some might say, a "good look" for an adult to involve themself in the matters of a child. That was just common sense.

So, initially, he felt it appropriate to regard the boy with an apathetic stare. He does remind himself to blink (because he has to.) and it's quick... brief. Every single flicker of black was counted, jotted down onto the metaphorical bulletin board with an efficient slash of exacto knife.

"It's not that I feel "differently"," came his response, both candid yet unmistakably polite (it's more than the brat deserves.) in its approach. "More-so, I..."

Gaze wandered, averting from Keicho's own as he parsed through his thoughts. Teenagers -- boys, especially -- could be so sensitive nowadays... It's such a pain in the ass. Kira would have to be careful.

"...think that, maybe, a little finesse would be appropriate."

It's then that blue eyes panned back over to the youth, squinting in acknowledgment in spite of the distance put between them. A shrug's given after and it's brief as everything is in nature.

Cracking through an otherwise cold demeanor, however, was a smile. That's one way of helping others feel at ease, wasn't it?

"For instance, ah..." he paused to allow a quick once-over of Keicho's person before proceeding, "...have you ever noticed that your brother slouches? People tend to pick on those that, hm, "look" smaller-- maybe you could try to "look" bigger."

His head's tilted inwards, right towards the other's direction.

"Squaring your shoulders a little bit more would be a good start."

#etcnnante #etcnnante: nijimura keicho #＊ 💥 持味：in character. #＊ 💥 𝐯.one，今：another one bites the dust！！ #* grabs ur head like i would an apple * #hi. <3 #time for kira to be... * i give u a gentle rattle * a Very Bad Not Good At All influence!!

[quirofiliac]

@determinazione ／ 💣

"I don't mean to... intrude, Giorno," he started in a soft (talk how kimiko would speak to him-- gentle and kind, couldn't hurt a fly.) voice, sitting a few feet or so across from the teen with a newspaper (the perfect shield, so they don't have to lock eyes and deal with that wretched, little "social norm".) hiding his face, "but... is everything alright at school?"

#determinazione #＊ 💥 持味：in character. #＊ 💥 𝐯.one，今：another one bites the dust！！ #me being cryptic: the people don't know that kira read giorno's diary. but we're not “people”.

[quirofiliac]

A small, light huff-- that was quite out of character for him, wasn't it?

#＊ 💥 持味：in character. #＊ 💥 𝐯.one，今：another one bites the dust！！ #kira “i love my husband very much and i WILL kill anyone who even looks at him” yoshikage #vs everyone else who is normal #LMAOOOFJNGFKMFKM

[quirofiliac]

"It took forever to break him out of that nast-- er, bad habit of his... and yet? He's still doing it, anyway."

#betrayal. @ rohan still eats instant ramen #travesty. truly. it is. #💔💔💔 #＊ 💥 持味：in character. #＊ 💥 𝐯.one，今：another one bites the dust！！ #＊ 💥 撃力：commentary. #＊ 💥 言及：mentioning，thusspoke.

[quirofiliac]

@etcnnante

it must be tiring being a bitter old man 🤔

"Mm... Yes, I suppose it could be--" a tilt of the head interjects itself into his speech, allowing for him a swift once-over the other's form before raising to "meet" (he swerves by the eyes. the forehead's a nicer... more spacious spot.) opposite gaze, "--if it applied to me, that is."

#etcnnante #AHA! YOU AS WELL! #* grabs you like a claw in a claw machine * #＊ 💥 持味：in character. #＊ 💥 𝐯.one，今：another one bites the dust！！ #kira picking fights at the speed of light? yes. #kira not understanding that he is at fault for said fights? also yes.

[quirofiliac]

@determinazione

🧍

"Ah, Giorno--" (what the fuck are you standing there for?) "--my apologies... I must've been thinking out loud; people these days can, um... get under my skin quite efficiently. However..." A brief fluttering of lashes, gaze averting seconds later. "I know it's my fault for taking issue with it in the first place."

#determinazione #oops! you fell for my trap! #* forces you into another thread with me * #＊ 💥 持味：in character. #＊ 💥 𝐯.one，今：another one bites the dust！！ #“it's not you.” (it could be.) “promise.” (hope the happiness is fleeting actually.)