dumbshow | highly new, slightly improved open post

highly new, slightly improved open post

assorted morons

optional prompts/ideas

☆ caught in the rain meme
☆ little steps meme
☆ affectionate physical contact meme
☆ picture prompt also acceptable but link them so it's tidy
☆ AU ideas: soulmates AU, reincarnation AU, Bad End AU, canon divergent/roleswap AU, dorky college AU, crossover AU, super indulgent high fantasy AU
☆ melodrama is ultimate tier
★ SHIPPING AND FUCC:
☆ non-fluffy relationship types I'm down for: codependent, master/servant power imbalance type ships, "we're bad for each other but worse for anyone else," other things I am failing to think of tbh
☆ things I am not into: noncon (includes "dubcon"), incest, tsundere shit if your tsundere is just verbally abusive, gratuitous torture porn, you'll probably have to ask me about harder kinks and they will vary by character
☆ I don't have a kink list so pitch me an idea if u thirsty
☆ if you would prefer a locked post I can also make that happen

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Kakyoin has a memory, whether it really did happen once or it was only written that way, he has it— of someone cutting his hair in a moment like this one. A mother he walked out on, maybe, whether or not that really happened either; regardless, it's the same feeling, quiet and intimate in a way he isn't used to.

And like, that Jotaro guy is still here, but Kakyoin isn't paying him any mind. His eyes are closed, and he's still save for the moments Polnareff needs him to tilt his head this way and that. If only the dye smelled less foul, this would be nicer. Naturally, he can't just let that go.]

It really does smell like the worst possible thing to put in my hair.

Psh, what kind of imagination is that? I bet I can come up with fifty things that would be worse.

[His words are scoffed, but his fingers stay gentle as he keeps working.]

What about a skunk, huh? You'd rather that in your hair?

I don't know what a skunk is.

[Is it American? Regardless! His point stands!]

This is just awful. Your fifty other things aren't here.

Horse shit.

[An immediate retort, even as he tugs lightly at Kakyoin's hair, tipping his head to the left, getting at the underside.]

Burnt onions. Burnt rubber. Burnt . . . anything, we can just say anything, honestly, you can't tell me this smells worse than that.

[Will he die on this hill? Yes.]

[Don't make a list! God! He scoffs, because he's definitely right and Polnareff is making stupid lists for no reason.]

Just hurry up so I can wash it out. You can tell me all your favorite terrible smells some other time.

So I won, is what you're saying. I won and I'm right, ha ha.

[But all right, all right . . . he's nearly done anyway. Just one last comb of his fingers tugging back through his hair, and then he pulls away, peeling off the gloves. He tries to do it without getting anything on his skin, fails, and scowls as he wipes it on his trousers.]

All right, go wash that off as much as you can. Really scrub, get in there. Then I guess we'll just wait for it to dry and then go . . .?

[It lacks a bit of punch, but it's still the best thing they have, so.]

I didn't say anything like that.

[Please, attitude. He both very much wants to know how his hair looks and doesn't want to know at all, so... this is the impasse he's reached. He looks like he might touch it gingerly for a moment, but reconsiders sticking his hand into wet dye and just- gives both of them a nod, before he ducks into an adjacent back room that has a bathtub of tepid water waiting for some reason, who knows.

Give him fifteen minutes before he's satisfied that when he wets his hair, it doesn't drip dye everywhere, then he comes back. It's still wet, but it's not red anymore, so great job.]

...Well, how did you do?

[It covers everything, Jotaro answers, which is both blunt and honest. It's not a great dye-job, in that he'd bought drugstore shit and it shows, but at least there's no red strands peeking out.

He isn't certain how he feels about it. He sort of misses that cherry red explosion, truthfully. Kakyoin looks more ordinary with dyed hair, and it doesn't suit him-- he's anything but ordinary. But it's not bad, and certainly good enough to fool some guards. And it's about that time he realizes he's been staring a few too seconds long, eyes widening fractionally.]

You l-- it looks good.

[He ignores the little glance Jotaro gives him. There's an awkward pause, and then, too brightly:]

I told you not to doubt me.

[No he hadn't, but he hadn't said that in any attempt to be superior. Just an excuse for bullshitting, because that'd been weird.]

[Kakyoin is, admittedly, completely asking Polnareff when he comes back with his new look, so Jotaro actually manages to distract him from all the staring by answering first. Thank you, Giant Man. Giant Accomplice. Kakyoin blinks at him, then nods.

And back to Polnareff, who is being, hmm - odd. They're about to commit a few felonies here, so Kakyoin will delve into that more deeply later.]

Right. I haven't seen it, but it's going to be a long couple weeks.

[With this terrible hair color... no offense, Jotaro.

He glances at the backpack full of mystery clothes.]

I can't exactly walk out of here in those.

You're gonna put em on and then put the robe on top.

[Yukata, Polnareff, come on. Whatever. Leaning forward, he empties it out: jeans first, then a shirt, socks, sneakers . . . he offers the first two to Kakyoin.]

Try em on. It's, uh--

[He thumbs the waistband of the jeans.]

This goes around your hips. It's gonna be kinda tight, but that's what it's meant to be.

[Two piece?? Clothing?? Kakyoin looks at the jeans and then the shirt as he's handed them, mostly blankly. This doesn't seem comfortable at all.]

This material is awful. Here- [Denim sucks, but more importantly, if he has to put other things under his yukata then Polnareff has to hold his knife for a minute. It's sheathed, hold this while he just... tries to get into these jeans without actually taking the yukata off first.

Ah, he should have kept the knife in case he's laughed at... The regrets just keep coming.]

[He holds a knife he's fairly certain Kakyoin has considered stabbing him with and tries not to stare too much. He does stare, little stolen glances as Kakyoin wobbles around on one foot and yanks on the jeans, but at least he doesn't do it excessively.]

It'd be easier if you, you know, changed like a normal person.

[He says it to the wall, idly playing with the knife. It's a real knife, he notes as he pricks his finger, hissing softly, and that makes him glad. Hosts can't hurt guests, but at least Kakyoin's got something to defend himself. Licking his finger, he glances back, trying to check on him without actually gawking.]

You got it or you need me to dress you like a five year old?

[Didn't you rip your first yukata? Jotaro comments, less question and more pointed statement, and he pulls a face at him. Shut up?]

I'm-- [staggering--] I'm handling this.

[Polnareff talking to the wall and doing dumb things with his knife would be funny if he weren't being eaten alive by these pants, but give it time. He's still paying enough attention to laugh at Jotaro's casual roast. He's got this... The pants are on.

As an afterthought he even does up the button and, warily, the zipper. This clothing is harrowing. As a bonus to probably just Polnareff, all things considered: they fit, and not that poorly. Not perfectly, but he looks like a person who knows how to size his own jeans, besides the yukata.

And alright, he'll finally take that off and set it aside while he picks up the shirt again. Hmm. Okay...]

I'm starting to understand why some of you spend nearly all of your time here.

Please. Jeans are better. No sweaty thighs, for starter.

[So honestly, what other argument can Kakyoin give? Nothing, that's what, and Polnareff finally turns, spinning on his heel. And it's--

Ah.

Look. It's not that he doesn't know Kakyoin is strong. The guy's a two-bit gangster, a thug who can hold his own in a scrap. Naturally he's got muscles, that's just logical. But he'd never really thought about them, not under that loose yukata, he'd always imagined him slender, and now he's clad in jeans and nothing else, all sharp angles and lean muscle, and--]

[Fuck.]

[Oh, god, he's so hot.]

Uhhh--

[Sorry, give him a minute.]

[Kakyoin, meanwhile, is turning this shirt back to front and front to back over and over, trying to spot the clue of which side is actually the front. It's going to take him a minute to do that, and he spares a glance at Polnareff in the meantime, eyebrow raised.]

What? Am I holding it upside down?

[He's not, he knows that much, the neck end is obviously the little one, but please. It also doesn't take a genius - or, say, a host programmed to read guest responses as accurately as possible - to catch that standing here bare from the waist up is very interesting to Polnareff. Aw.

Well, we must all make sacrifices, and Kakyoin's will be putting on the shirt to spare Polnareff this brief cardiac arrest. He's got the tail end of a smirk on his face when he gets the shirt over his head at last, but he'll delve more deeply into that later, too. Please continue to check him out as he runs his fingers through his hair to put it in some kind of order, still damp, leaning his hips just so--]

Not the shoes. People can see those.

[What a fucking asshole. He's posing, what an asshole, but at least it erases some of the embarrassment and panic from his thoughts. With a scowl he offers the knife back to him.]

Yeah, yeah-- we'll do that when we give the costume back. That you're gonna switch with Jotaro, too, just in case. Stop--

[Waspishly added to Jotaro. He hasn't said a damn thing, but he knows him well enough to know what kind of expression he's probably got on.]

Let's just get this over with, all right?

[Ah, and like that, Kakyoin and Jotaro have found something to bond about without even speaking. Amazing. He chuckles as he takes the knife in one hand and gathers up his yukata over his other arm; it's definitely isn't going to fit Jotaro, but alright...]

Don't worry, if any of us wants to be out of here already, it's me.

[One trade later and they both look, frankly, stupid, but hopefully not stupid enough to be stopped by anyone.]

[He looks . . . uncomfortable, yeah, but more importantly: like he doesn't really belong here. With a pinched expression and tight jeans, he looks like a typical Japanese teenager.

They three of them exit the Lotus Petal quickly. Humans might be easily fooled, but he's pretty sure hosts won't be. Jotaro moves with his head tipped down low, his expression dark, as Polnareff throws a deliberate arm around Kakyoin and yanks him in close. Friendly-like, see? (If he makes note of the slender body beneath his, well, of course he does). And when they approach the exit, Jotaro peels off, turning on his heel to head back to the bar, as Polnareff steers them forward.

One Japanese man enters and one leaves. It'll work. It's gotta work, he thinks, even as he strips off his costume and pulls on his usual clothes. He looks good, he looks normal, just like a student, it's fine, this is fine-- his stomach twists, his nerves singing, but there's nothing but a grin on his face as he comes back towards Kakyoin.]

Bet you anything we can still make it for happy hour, yeah?

[He's painfully aware they're being watched, but there's nothing for it. Either they'll be caught or they won't. Step by step, one foot in front of the other, and then there's the door, and--

And then they're outside, the sun shining brightly, the temperature far too hot. His motorcycle isn't so far from here, and he blinks, stares, and then pulls Kakyoin forward.]

C'mon.

[There's a trick they do when they build a host that's in there to maintain the immersion factor: a blindspot for anything that throws back the veil and shatters the illusion. Kakyoin, awake now, doesn't acknowledge it anymore, but for the others it's like a blank space inserted to block anything that shouldn't be there, like a picture from the outside world, or a guest stating outright that the hosts "aren't real." It works in their favor here, as a guest sweeping what appears to be just another guest out of the park doesn't look like anything special at all.

Not to say that Kakyoin is calm and collected on the way out. No, not at all. It's a relief he won't admit when Polnareff pulls him close and quite literally gives him something to hide his face behind if need be, if anyone looks at them too closely. It's a miracle that they don't, that no one spots Kakyoin in the outer room and pushes him back inside instantaneously—

And then they're out, and Kakyoin squints in the sunlight, and he's uncomfortable in these clothes and terrified that the other shoe will drop at any moment but he still, still thinks the sun on his face feels different out here. He's thinking about that and how much these sneakers pinch when Polnareff tugs him along, and he follows while trying to look less shocked by the simple fact that he's outside.

...Also. What the fuck is a motorcycle.]

You want me to get on that thing?

Yeah. Behind me. Just mount it like a horse.

[Muttered. He doubts they're being watched, but he doesn't want to drop his guard until they're well away from this place. Swinging onto the motorbike, he settles into the seat and jerks his head back behind him.]

Wrap your hands around my waist. It's gonna be really loud, okay? And we're gonna go real fast, but it's safe.

[A beat, and with a little smile:]

You trust me?

Hmm. [Does he trust him, or does he simply want to get out of here? That's a question for Polnareff to ponder while Kakyoin awkwardly climbs onto the seat behind him. So far being outside is just an endless list of things that are physically uncomfortable, huh...

Still. He sits there for a moment, looking back at the door into the park's outer facilities. It hasn't quite sunken in yet that he's out here, that he won't wake up in the Lotus Petal in the morning. There's a strange feeling if he ever knew one.

He scoots forward, wrapping his arms around Polnareff's waist. That is much more comfortable than sitting on this terrible seat, for the record.]

Go ahead. [And of course he's going to wait until the engine is drowning out other sounds before he will actually say,] I do trust you.

[It's faint, soft enough that he thinks he imagined it at first-- but no, he'd really said that, and it's stupid how that makes him smile. Not leeringly, but softly. Happily, because he can't imagine how Kakyoin is feeling, hasn't even really thought about it in depth, but even through all that, he trusts Polnareff.

The engine roars, and it's loud, even to him. But there's nothing for it. Just like there's nothing for the speed with which he pulls out of the parking lot and zips into the road, movements easily graceful despite . . . all of him, and how he usually is.

Traffic is easy to navigate; he zips between cars easily, weaving past this man and that woman, too eager to put as much distance behind him as possible. If he notices Kakyoin reacting at all, he doesn't make noise about it. Just lets him react as he likes, in fear or wonder or dull shock, because honestly, this has to feel like a dream.

Has he ever dreamed? He wonders.

It's half an hour to the Joestar compound, an enormous building that he's pretty sure they just own? Like, there are a bunch of offices beneath a few apartments, and he's pretty sure they just own them all, and keep the penthouse for themselves and just put guests (ie, Polnareff) down below. It's weird knowing rich people. He parks his bike and leads Kakyoin through the front door, into the elevator, watching him slightly anxiously all the while. Only once they reach his apartment (it's so, so nice to know rich people) does he calm down.]

Make yourself at home.

[He says it as he kicks off his boots, trying for a casual tone.]

[The further they get from the park, the stranger Kakyoin feels; a mix of delight and terror and furious victory, he won, he's gone, they did it— it's dizzying, or maybe that's the speed of the bike. He closes his eyes somewhere along the way anyway, keeping them shut until they slow down. One day he'll keep his eyes open, but for now, well - this will do.

He's never seen a building this large in his life. At least he looks just like a small town Japanese tourist, one who made it to America before Tokyo somehow, with the way he boggles at the building before they go in.

—Polnareff's apartment is a better-furnished glass box, just like the one in the park, and Kakyoin takes half a step back before that feels stupid and embarrassing and he marches across the room instead to sit on the couch. Decisively. Ah, but it's softer than he expected, what on earth, but at least that gets his expression to relax-]

You live here.

[He lived on a mat in a tiny room until today! This is insane!!]

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can't believe i had to google this dumb thing

now you've learned more about skunks

i sure have

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