b i t t e r s w e e t

Hey guys! Uhh, I’m mainly going to be on my Pokemon RP blog for a while, due to lack of muse, lack of activity, and honestly a lot of sudden anxiety. DR is very difficult for me atm, so I’m going to be focusing on things that make me happy and less stressed, like my Pokemon RP blog! 

If I get inboxes or some replies are done for me, I may come back to answer em, but for the most part I will be over there! You’re absolutely welcome to follow, but I will most likely only follow back if we’re really close friends, just for the sake of my health. I hope you can understand! 

I’ll be offline from my blog more often, but if you have my Discord hmu there! And ah, if you want my Discord, you can message me on my Pokemon RP blog!

what would you like…?💐 - my muse gives a gift

“Sachio, you heap of hat wearing garbage, get over here.” Meant in an endearing way of course, although with Hoshi’s tone of voice that may have been hard to tell. It wasn’t really easy to hide this little surprise, considering it was pretty much almost as tall as he was, but the former athlete was thankful for once that his fat legs were finally useful for something other than taking up space. Not that he wrapped it to begin with, wrapping something like this would have just been a nightmare.

Now that Sachio and his stupid hat were in eye shot, Hoshi signaled the sap to get lower. “Can’t give your gift if we can’t see eye to eye, you know.” Which was a bit of a lie, he absolutely could, but where was the fun in just handing something over? And with a snide remark the bastard did. Astonishing, Hoshi figured he’d have to use the new gift to break Sachio’s knees for that to happen. 

With a smile that can only be described as devilish, our lovely gift bearer snagged the grip of the baseball bat, whipping it from behind his back and pointing the end right at the other’s stupid throat. There was a glimmer of fear- or maybe it was something else entirely, but it definitely had Hoshi the slightest bit excited. But nonetheless, the bat is removed from anywhere near Seiji’s fugly mug. “So, Master Batter.”

There’s a bit of a giggle as he says that, low and brief whilst the bat is twirled into the air. Not that it stays for very long, for soon Hoshi is holding the barrel and pointing the grip at perhaps the first person in a long while he could consider close.

my sweet affection

The cup nearly falls from his hands from the initial shock- he hadn’t expected Saihara (or anyone really) to be awake at this time of night. Sure, Hoshi hadn’t looked at a clock in a fair while, but it was certainly still late into the night. Technically speaking, no one was supposed to have been in the dining hall at that time, but such a sentiment was lost on the former tennis pro’s mind. His hands are red and no matter how often he scrubs his skin the smell won’t go away.

“…~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~…” he mumbles, although it comes as nothing but a bumbling mess to anyone that isn’t himself. He’s tired, he wants to sleep (even if a part of him wishes he never wakes up), and Saihara’s room is just closer. Slippers drag on the carpet- there weren’t guards to stop him, pants slightly dragging behind in followed suit (slightly too big- the investment that Saihara had made out of good intentions). The milk tastes sour due to nothing besides the evergrowing guilt in his innards that threatens to escape his lips. What a selfish person he is.There’s the temptation to slam his head into the wall until it cracks. Maybe then his head will stop thinking. Maybe then he can finally sleep.

....What an awful thing to think.The door clicks ever softly, a revolver’s safety being bypassed by steady hands, and the door is opened for him to enter. It’s lively in the room, organized messes here and there- but still holding that higher quality of standard that shows through even Saihara’s former school clothes. Expensive, but in the dulled drab that Hoshi often equates to the detective in his head. It’s a room that feels lived in and loved- a home, something the prisoner’s own never is. 

Slippers are kicked off near the door, his cup set on the nightstand right after, and soon he’s being hoisted onto the bed, Loving and caring hands that grip with a desire to care, yet soft and smooth to the touch. Hoshi doesn’t deserve any of it. There aren’t any words spoken, but the prisoner can practically hear what Saihara’s stare is saying. ‘Do you need anything?’

❛   dang.   ❜

          a   gentle   curse   escaping   her   as   she   switches   through   a   few   of   the   other   titles.   her   japanese   was   passable,   but   an   accent   was   more   than   likely   well   placed   there.   fingers   gently   sweep   across   the   titles,   glancing   back   toward   the   other,   and   flashing   a   smile.   venus   wasn’t   exactly   someone   who   ventured   to   the   library   of   hope’s   peak   too   much.   the   transfer   student   didn’t   want   to   embarrass   herself.  

          ❛   you   wouldn’t   have   a   title   that   you   would   recommend,   do   you   ?   ❜  

          while   songs   were   playing   on   the   radio   of   her   station,   maybe   she   could   get   a   few   chapters   in.  

“Can’t say that I do, not without knowing what you prefer at least.” He could fair to make an educated guess on the matter, be it due to the interest of one book that he kind of, sort of understood, but such a thing would be nothing more than an assumption. Making an ass out of you and me, as it has been said- he’d rather not do that to the girl. She looked kind of lost to begin with, and embarrassing himself for no reason just wasn’t cool.

Everything was a bit too.... glitzy, for Hoshi’s taste.  Not that he wasn’t familiar with the ideas of bustling city life, but it could get mighty loud. Forests were a lot nicer in that aspect. The most he had to worry about there was a reckless ‘mon or two coming around his area, although never escalating further. 

“You certainly stick out like a sore thumb.” White, while certainly not a color as nearly jarring compared to certain others, definitely stood in contrast to the darker hues of the woods currently resided in. The sucker is taken from his mouth for a moment, the pecha pink contrasting heavily to the others skin (how pale was this guy?), before going back to his mouth.  Whatever. It wasn’t really his business. It’s not like he owned this forest anyways.