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((ooc: continued from here))
it was beautiful, but still a little unnecessarily judgmental i think
it wasn't even a walk of shame i just couldnt find my shoes
it was beautiful, but still a little unnecessarily judgmental i think
it wasn't even a walk of shame i just couldnt find my shoes
Edited 2021-03-23 02:33 (UTC)
((ooc: continued from here))
youre like 16 dude im not sending you a pick with my dick in view
[He did say inner thigh, Tobio.]
youre like 16 dude im not sending you a pick with my dick in view
[He did say inner thigh, Tobio.]
Edited 2021-03-23 02:35 (UTC)
I found one of them.
Would have spent a little more time looking, but. You know. The violin solo.
Would have spent a little more time looking, but. You know. The violin solo.
yeah I'm not doing that
just use your imagination about the tattoo
checked again it might be a drunk duck
just use your imagination about the tattoo
checked again it might be a drunk duck
probably best ur not sitting around thinking about my inner thighs then
also im not mad at u
jsyk
[Why even add that? Something about the way Kageyama defends himself makes Dera feel like he was harsh. Was he harsh? He might have been a little harsh.]
also im not mad at u
jsyk
[Why even add that? Something about the way Kageyama defends himself makes Dera feel like he was harsh. Was he harsh? He might have been a little harsh.]
[He doesn't think that either, but it did kind of sound that way.]
ok good
[This is awkward.]
this is awkward
ok good
[This is awkward.]
this is awkward
[It's kind of Dera's fault this time, but Tobio isn't helping.]
its not a big deal it just is
what are you up to
its not a big deal it just is
what are you up to
i did but getting tattoos removed is expensive as hell and hurts like a bitch
this happens all the time its nbd
this happens all the time its nbd
i mean theres not much point in regretting them
they happened and theyre permanent so
not really
they happened and theyre permanent so
not really
[He is the least chill person in the universe, but he makes sure no one knows that, and tattoos are the least of his worries.]
intentional or unintentional
intentional or unintentional
((ooc: continued from here))
[For as anxious of a person as Dera is, he can sometimes be careless. Maybe it's just another subtle form of self-harm to be heading out to a stranger's place like this. He was kidding about the D.A.R.E. thing, but he does recall them saying something about not taking drugs from strangers. Still, you can only sit in your studio apartment drinking alone for so long before you start to go a little crazy, and it's not as if he hasn't facilitated random hook-ups before.
[Still, he's nervous. But he can't exactly show that. Luckily for Dera, emotion of any kind rarely shows on his face at all. He's gotten pretty good at keeping it statue still 90% of the time until he's home alone and a particularly sad song comes on his playlist.
[He knocks on the door, but then lights a cigarette and steps off to the side a bit. Some people are weird about smoking indoors, and it's better to get it out of the way now instead of having to step out immediately upon entering the house.
[As for his appearance, he didn't exactly try to clean up much, but he is wearing a clean t-shirt and some clean jeans that don't have holes in them. He would have thrown a lazy flannel on top, but it's kind of hot outside today. His faded blue hair is, as usual, hanging in his face, and his bare arms are covered in randomly slapped on tattoos that have no real rhyme, reason, or artistic placement to them. None of them look very good.]
[For as anxious of a person as Dera is, he can sometimes be careless. Maybe it's just another subtle form of self-harm to be heading out to a stranger's place like this. He was kidding about the D.A.R.E. thing, but he does recall them saying something about not taking drugs from strangers. Still, you can only sit in your studio apartment drinking alone for so long before you start to go a little crazy, and it's not as if he hasn't facilitated random hook-ups before.
[Still, he's nervous. But he can't exactly show that. Luckily for Dera, emotion of any kind rarely shows on his face at all. He's gotten pretty good at keeping it statue still 90% of the time until he's home alone and a particularly sad song comes on his playlist.
[He knocks on the door, but then lights a cigarette and steps off to the side a bit. Some people are weird about smoking indoors, and it's better to get it out of the way now instead of having to step out immediately upon entering the house.
[As for his appearance, he didn't exactly try to clean up much, but he is wearing a clean t-shirt and some clean jeans that don't have holes in them. He would have thrown a lazy flannel on top, but it's kind of hot outside today. His faded blue hair is, as usual, hanging in his face, and his bare arms are covered in randomly slapped on tattoos that have no real rhyme, reason, or artistic placement to them. None of them look very good.]
[ Jesse's place is big. Too big for someone of his age who's supposedly self-employed and 'not a drug dealer', but if he's asked about that he'll just make up some bullwinder about inheritance or whatever. It's not that he particularly enjoys lying to people, but out of necessity, it's become easier with time. As of now, he has no particular attachment to Dera, so guilt won't follow his white lies. Sure, he seems like a chill enough guy to hang around, but Jesse doesn't let people in so easily. Letting them in means there's a potential for him to suffer loss and he's had enough of that. More than enough. Still, he's a social being by nature, and being left alone with his own thoughts doesn't normally end well for him. PTSD and all that comes with it. People are a distraction from that.
Jesse perks up from his slouched position when he thinks he hears the crunch of gravel in his driveway and he stands quickly, pushing up the sleeves of his hoodie as he approaches the large living room window and peers out between the curtains. It's a habit to check from a safe distance away from the front door before approaching to let someone in, and when he notices the familiar swath of dyed hair and physique matching the picture he saw online, he's relieved. No catfish today.
His baggy jeans make a subtle sound as he crosses to the front door, the sound of his locks opening clicking in the empty air before he pulls the door open almost right after Dera knocks. Jesse has a half-smoked cigarette pressed between his lips when he greets the other guy, his own shoddy tattoo taking up the back of one hand and sprawling past his wrist. He offers that hand in greeting. Is a handshake too formal? It feels like he's forgotten how to have 'regular' interactions with people. ]
What's up, man? C'mon in.
[ Jesse's voice is deep and gravelly, roughed up by years of smoking. He presses the door closed behind Dera and he's really tempted to turn the lock but that might send red flags flying, so he pushes away that temptation and tries to ignore the creeping anxiety as he heads back towards the futon to offer Dera a seat with a vague gesture. He grabs a glass off his kitchen counter for his guest and sets it on the coffee table with a clink. He doesn't bother with the coasters that sit in a stack in the middle of the table. He's not even sure why he has them. ]
You can pour yourself a drink if you want. Unless you wanna stick with vodka. I got some in the kitchen.
Jesse perks up from his slouched position when he thinks he hears the crunch of gravel in his driveway and he stands quickly, pushing up the sleeves of his hoodie as he approaches the large living room window and peers out between the curtains. It's a habit to check from a safe distance away from the front door before approaching to let someone in, and when he notices the familiar swath of dyed hair and physique matching the picture he saw online, he's relieved. No catfish today.
His baggy jeans make a subtle sound as he crosses to the front door, the sound of his locks opening clicking in the empty air before he pulls the door open almost right after Dera knocks. Jesse has a half-smoked cigarette pressed between his lips when he greets the other guy, his own shoddy tattoo taking up the back of one hand and sprawling past his wrist. He offers that hand in greeting. Is a handshake too formal? It feels like he's forgotten how to have 'regular' interactions with people. ]
What's up, man? C'mon in.
[ Jesse's voice is deep and gravelly, roughed up by years of smoking. He presses the door closed behind Dera and he's really tempted to turn the lock but that might send red flags flying, so he pushes away that temptation and tries to ignore the creeping anxiety as he heads back towards the futon to offer Dera a seat with a vague gesture. He grabs a glass off his kitchen counter for his guest and sets it on the coffee table with a clink. He doesn't bother with the coasters that sit in a stack in the middle of the table. He's not even sure why he has them. ]
You can pour yourself a drink if you want. Unless you wanna stick with vodka. I got some in the kitchen.
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