text, un: gautier, cw: some references to alcohol use and sexual content

[laidtocrest]

[Specifics tbd, but there's a drunk Midnight involved and he doesn't have a shirt and might've lost his pants. he's fucking naked.

But for now.]

a guy lost his clothes to the washer. anybody saw a pink shirt?

[Attached is a picture of Midnight. I have no fanart, so you must imagine this guy: no shirt, Jojo-posing, wearing a pink feathery thing, drunk, fly open.]

and here's the guy who lost his stuff

Comments

[zangetsu]

NOTHING ABOUT WHAT YOU'RE DOING IS CREATIVE.

put your phone down and drink a glass of water. or ten.

helps with the hangover.

[unrequite]

I do hompe you know that is an opinion. Bles syou

Sylvain brought me water. fine lad. hav eyou ever met him? you should, he really is a lovely fellow

[zangetsu]

ask him to put you to bed next.

[laidtocrest]

please stop asking him to ask me things.

[zangetsu]

you volunteered yourself. are you gonna see it through or not?

[laidtocrest]

yeah but there's a difference between seeing it through and having some guy ask me to put him to bed. it would feel weird if he just said 'hey put me to bed'

and he says no, so

[zangetsu]

it's only weird if you make it weird, man.

knock him over the head with a lamp first if it bugs you that much.

（ is this not how normal people solve problems??? ）

[laidtocrest]

wow that sounds like something one of my friends would tell me. you don't wave around a sword and get into fights all the time do you?

1/?

[zangetsu]

[zangetsu]

（ is it.

is it that obvious. ）

[zangetsu]

（ is he talking to a witch. is that it. is this witchcraft. ）

[zangetsu]

（ no, it is the children fire emblems who are wrong. ）

[zangetsu]

no.

（ nice. smooth. he's so good at this. ）

do you?

[laidtocrest]

nah. definitely not a sword, usually try to avoid fights, and he trains all the time and i usually try to avoid that sort of thing? i love the guy but it's not like i feel like i need to get stronger all the time.

anyway, he also would've told me to just hit my problems and hope it goes away, probably.

[zangetsu]

（ basically just your average twelfth division member then, cool. cool cool. ）

technically i told you to hit your problem and put it to bed.

[laidtocrest]

technically you did say that. and if i hit my problem and knock him unconscious, he doesn't go away. he just becomes a heavier sort of problem.

clearly, the big takeaway is that you have a better idea of what's going on than i do.

[It's not, but why not roll with it?]

[zangetsu]

a heavier problem you can leave in a bed.

he seems sturdy. he'll be fine.

and i really don't think that's the case here.

[ action ]

[unrequite]

I wouldn't ask you to put me to bed. You wouldn't tuck me in. I can tell. I'd feel very bad for asking.

[laidtocrest]

I'll find you a bed, but yeah...I wouldn't tuck you in. Sorry. But look, we can go out drinking some other time and make up for it.

[What is this conversation.]

[unrequite]

Good lad.

[ Midnight grins and ruffles his hair. I don't know. He's very fond of Sylvain already. He's stupid. He's so stupid. ]

[laidtocrest]

[Why does everyone seem to think he's a good kid he's not a good kid, he's merely behaving because he doesn't have the luxury of acting out and losing his shit.]

Uh.

[This is so weird. Taking a polite step to the side and...]

Thanks? You don't do this when you're sober, do you?

[unrequite]

[ Good is a verb, not an adjective. (This is semantically false but spiritually true, and also something Midnight would say.) ]

I don't think about myself much, sober or no. [ ... ] I do apologize. That was a lie. I think about myself so much.

[laidtocrest]

[Unaware that he's fucking himself over all the more, Sylvain ignores his better judgment and bridges the distance again to gently-yet-dramatically (and not intentionally dramatically, it's an accidental dramatic) clasp Midnight by the arm.]

Yeah, I kinda got that impression, don't worry. [He says this in a reassuring way, even if it's not that reassuring now that it's escaped his mouth. All of this positive reassurance and fond feelings is going to make him squirm.]

[unrequite]

[ Sylvain, you fool. You dense motherfucker. You absolute stale, butt end slices of clearance aisle Wonderbread. Midnight hums in agreement, then takes this dramatic arm clasp as a green light to pull his new friend into a nice hug. He's a very good hugger. Very cuddly. Sylvain, retreat now or Midnight is not going to let go. ]

[laidtocrest]

[Hugs??? It should be noted, this isn't a hug. He does not hug back, with emphasis and decisiveness. He doesn't firmly Hug. back. No. This is a hug??? back. That uneasy moment where he's not sure if he should hold on, let go, if Midnight's about to break into tears or something and this hug??? is the only thing keeping him from becoming a sobbing drunk.]

Uh.

[The moment should be over, right.]

You okay?