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last online Jul 13, 2020 22:23:46 GMT
The Maddened Royals
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Dec 19, 2018 16:08:14 GMT
Post by Kimura Kyoryoku on Dec 19, 2018 16:08:14 GMT
"PARTY PEOPLE! YOUR DREAMS HAVE NOW BEEN FULFILLED!
NOW GET OUT YOUR SEATS & LET'S GET ILL!"
The club was really bumping tonight, people out here living their best life! At least that's the lie one tells themselves through the heavy use of alcohol and drugs, with the dream of creating an unforgettable experience. Yet some of these degenerates are here day in and day out. What are they expecting to find? Love? What a joke. You really think that girl you met in the club ain't gonna go right back to it when she's bored of you? Better be bringing something amazing to the table if you plan on getting cuffed here.
Which only leads to the better question of what is someone as magnificent as King Kimura doing up in this club tonight? Just celebrating one of his friend's birthdays, popping bottles, getting a little too deep into the sauce. It wasn't something he'd indulge in every day, so it was a lot easier for him to enjoy. Just let loose, drink as much as you want, wake up with several texts, notifications on the insta, rewatch those snap stories to remember what happened, and nurse that headache. That would be tomorrow morning, right now they were just leaving before the club fully shut down. Only the desperate stay until they kick you out, no body wants to stay once all the beautiful people have left.
Walking around Odaiba, it seemed like the pretentious Royals leader was barely able to stumble throughout Tokyo. Maybe a bit too much had gotten into his system tonight, he could barely see the screen of his phone as he started texting. This is where the fun began, exactly what would these people say back? What would they reply if they weren't given much of a choice of how the evening would proceed? Such as one Yūjin Inazuma , what would he say to a simple text of 'I'm coming'? There was no room for debate, just like everything else that Kimura had said in the passed years. They were declarations of what would happen, not what could.
With his mind made, it was easy to bumble through the streets and make it to the apartment complexes that lined Odaiba. One might be surprised at the ease in which he directed himself to Inazuma's own home, he's probably done this quite a few times. There weren't even that many clubs in Odaiba, but after every time he'd been to one, he's also ended up on the same futon. For some reason, Kimura just won't order a cab home. Maybe there's just something really nice about passing out around someone whose life you can just easily torment? Was he not tired from all the drinking.
Every time he's gotten to the front doors of the complex, he's forgotten the one big flaw in his plan. The complex uses a magnetic lock, which means he can't just burst in unless someone willingly opens the door. Not that this bothers Kimura, he just straight and away picks up his phone and dials. Resting his head against the door as the tone continued, he already knew the first things to say if it was picked up. Or went to voicemail, not like this grown man is paying any attention at the moment. He's barely propped on his feet with his forehead pressed against a glass door, hips still swaying like he's supposed to be dancing. "Aii, Yujinae, open up, faggot." What pleasant words to use when asking someone to sleep over their house.
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played by Sriracha
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last online Dec 31, 2018 22:00:16 GMT
The No-Namers
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Dec 19, 2018 17:36:17 GMT
Post by Yūjin Inazuma on Dec 19, 2018 17:36:17 GMT
can't fix this, i'm hopeless. my sanity is spent, just tell me where my time went ▼  | Due to how recently they were developed over the past decade or so, Odaiba only had a small handful of apartments available for anybody with the means to live a modest and comfortable life, and it was fortunate for Yūjin Inazuma that his needs were minimal enough to sustain a quaint single-bedroom for both himself and his Digimon friend Abel.
It was here that the duo had spent the final hours of the evening upon having returned from being nearly smothered by the attendees at Akihabara's annual GameCon, a situation which greatly pleased Yūjin, for he had been unwittingly pressured against his better interests by Abel into taking in some of the sights and sounds, only to have his physical senses be woefully strained to the point of complete emotional burnout because of the convention's sheer scope and intensity. And while he might have returned back to the safety of his domain empty-handed, as he was wanting to buy groceries earlier, the young Tamer reasoned he could always go out while Abel slept the morning away. It'll give him some much-needed space, for sure.
What Yūjin hadn't accounted for, like so many other things in life that cannot be predicted, was the possibility of having guests over, especially those of an unwelcome nature in particular. And it just so happened that kindly old Ms. Ono on the bottom floor, bless her little heart, happened to shuffle on by the magnetically-sealed glass door keeping one utterly wasted Kimura Kyoryoku quarantined from the rest of the complex. Being half-blind from cataracts but still sharp enough to hear, the elderly Japanese woman politely inches her way over to open the door for the intoxicated leader-in-chief of Tokyo's most prominent Tamer faction after taking notice of his 'colorful' request for Yūjin, whom Ms. Ono got on quite well with.
Perhaps it may have been a stroke in Yūjin's favor, but Kimura would have to actually teeter a couple of paces inside in order to make use of the elevator leading up to the high-rise's eighth floor, where his intended subject of torment dwelled. This would have been the only instance where, had he received that simple two-word text message nay earlier, Yūjin would have forced the prick into taking the stairs due to a 'broken elevator' — but the lack of any 'Out of Order' signs or yellow tape ultimately made such a reality moot to even think about.
Five minutes. That was all the time Yūjin had to prepare for one of but a handful of people that he simply could not tolerate in any set of circumstances, yet felt unable to keep away from. Just as carrion attracts a hungry vulture, somehow Kimura Kyoryoku always knew exactly just when to show up and make his life even more needlessly complicated than it already was. Abel was on standby, just in case things started getting rough.
Once five minutes were up, Yūjin calmly breathes in, and opens the door. This was going to suck.
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played by Ensō
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last online Jul 13, 2020 22:23:46 GMT
The Maddened Royals
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Dec 19, 2018 18:55:16 GMT
Post by Kimura Kyoryoku on Dec 19, 2018 18:55:16 GMT
Was Kimura really gonna make it hard for an old lady to enter her apartment at this time of night? Apparently, yes, he was still plastered right to the door, even to the moments that she opened it. Which is good, really woke him up as he started to lose his sense of gravity by having his upper body throttle forward, only barely caught by the strength of his core and obliques. There he was, still standing in a doorway, legs spread and knees bent to control his physical presence as his shoulders nearly passed his hips. Taking in a deep breath, the man started to straighten his back and rise to his full stature, looking over his shoulder to this grandma and slurring out a quick thanks. It was really hard to seem grateful while drunk, considering just how bad Kimura was unable to keep to his feet.
The second after, he thought nothing of it, although it was hard to know what he was thinking to begin with. All of the thoughts petered out as he lost vision, his brain effectively deciding it's had enough of the substances now controlling his body. Thank god the body it was attached to could simply continue without aid, quickly lumbering to the elevator and waiting for it to come down. The king of madness probably mumbled to himself, swearing at the slow service that the elevator would provide. Punk ass elevator, did you know who was about to step inside of you? I'll have you know that this is the man who, undoubtedly, did the impossible ten years ago! The man whose strength alone lifted victory from the jaws of defeat! And his name is-- KIMUR-- Oh, the elevator doors are open.
Yet another few steps and he was inside, propped up against the nearest wall and hitting that good ole' 8. The doors would close, leaving Kimura to himself and the nauseous feeling of the elevator lifting him from his previous location. Each floor it would momentarily stop at made it feel like his stomach had been stirred and shaken, like some of the drinks he'd had tonight. Although rude and obnoxious, his finger was stuck to the 'close door' button in an attempt to have the lift go faster. Not that many people are gonna be using the elevator at this time of night, but who knew? One time, some guy was in here and he could swear that dude was looking for a fight. He would've never lasted in such an encounter; The space played off of Kimura's natural instincts all too well.
Y'know, if Kimura was conscious, this would really give him a lot to think about. It's as though Kimura was full of hims-- Hey, doors open. Pushing off the wall, the man would slowly take his steps out, being almost cautious in his stupor. Just as he looked around, the digidestined made a break for the door, knowing that if he didn't move fast, he'd drop at some point. He also had to let Yujin know he was hear with a hefty knock; One which was caused by his forehead yet again propping him up against the door. Now he had time to take a break and collect himself-- just as the sound of locks disengaged and the door swung open.
Then and there went Kimura's footing, yet again barreling forward with his upper body only to have his feet follow. From his usual height, he dipped about seven inches downward, forehead colliding with his compatriots shoulder with quite some force. "Ohhiyujin," was all that accompanied this action, as if to make it seem a little less ridiculous. Yeah, see, he knew what he was doing-- He greeted you and said your name! It wasn't all that bad, especially if you consider all the other times he'd done this. Sometimes, he would go to his house like this and call Yujin by the wrong name. Even worse when its someone they both knew who was dead. Kimura's memory is not subtle.
Y'know, if he had like. . . a quarter of a liter less alcohol, he'd probably have been fine. His hands almost caught himself, wingspan spread to hold onto the walls of the hallway. He could totally just lift his head and walk straight through the homeowner with no issues-- which is exactly what he did. Kimura really did not care where he was, his body knew he was safe, so it was the same as being home. That's why he started to discard his shirt with no second thoughts, just throwing it on the floor as he entered the 'living room'. No matter how many times he's been here, the thought remains; Yujin lives in a shithole.
Not a real shithole, mind you, just not anything nearly as good as what Kimura could honestly buy at the moment. He could probably rent several apartments hear without problem, but why would he want to do that? The fiscal progress one could make selling rooms out to the growing population of Japan? Please, he had better ways to make money. Before Kimura could remove his pants, dude basically toppled onto the couch, almost flipping over it as he did. "Yo, fuck up! I'll fucking fight you, couch!" Such a weird level of irritation, it left as quick as it came. He literally just dipped his body over the armrest and calmed down without the thought of fighting the inanimate object.
Everything was pretty quiet without Kimura talking, which is to be expected. It was the dead of night after all. As the man continued to remove his trousers, he decided to tease Yujin, just like old times. "Yo, Yujinae! You still suck dick? I know a couple of guys who'd probably think you're cute." Yes, this grown man was halfway laying over your couch, still assuming your sexual orientation to be of the homosexual origin. While half naked. Nothing about this seemed right.
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played by Sriracha
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last online Dec 31, 2018 22:00:16 GMT
The No-Namers
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Dec 19, 2018 21:39:22 GMT
Post by Yūjin Inazuma on Dec 19, 2018 21:39:22 GMT
can't fix this, i'm hopeless. my sanity is spent, just tell me where my time went ▼ | A face redder than any radish Yūjin has ever seen before comes pressing into his shoulder with an intensity the autistic man was ill-prepared for. He staggers backwards with a grunt and brushes himself loose of Kimura's toxic influence as though it could be touched with his fingers, then expresses his annoyance with a deadpan glare, "Kyoryoku-san."
Before Yūjin could make any objections whatsoever, he found the rest of his frame casually shoved aside as a consequence of being that much smaller than Kimura's, unable to prevent the Royals' leader from making a complete drunken ass of himself against the domicile owner's wishes.
Then, he started pulling his goddamned clothes off. "Hey! You can't just—!" Yūjin tries to protest, but cannot bring himself to finish his statement, as Kimura has already toppled into the futon with the graceful elegance of a seven-legged cow in his attempt to wrestle the pants off of his legs, just barely missing Abel as the pudgy orange Digimon had to dive out of the obnoxious human's way to avoid unwanted collision.
Zero to pissed in less than thirty seconds. If nothing else, Kimura had talent.
"Sorry, but I'm not interested in your sloppy seconds," Yūjin bites back sarcastically upon having his preferences questioned by Kimura for the umpteenth-and-a-half time, closing his apartment door to avoid drawing the ire of his neighbors living adjacently to him. After having his identity picked apart and scrutinized by this prick for so long, it seemed natural for Yūjin to develop a bit of an acidic edge when it came time to actually deal with Kimura. "God damn it, Kyoryoku-san, you can't just fucking waltz in here whenever you're too drunk to take the damn cab."
Gingerly moving his way through the mess of clothes that Kimura scattered around the premises, the Patamon looks up to his Tamer with sincere confusion, "Hey, Yūjin, uh... What are sloppy seconds?"
"Nothing that has any relevance to a Digimon," Yūjin replies faster than the drunkard can interject, glaring bloody daggers at him as if looks alone could kill a man.
He keeps this shit up, and the odds of him walking away from this complex with a manslaughter charge are about to go up exponentially...
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played by Ensō
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