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[conspecifics]

@dogboy*

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open season.

OPEN SEASON

@dogboy
24 / m / straight / 2♠️*

About Photos Questions Personality Compatibility

Details

My Self-Summary

His name is Kirma and he’s illiterate. I’m helping him fill this out, but honestly speaking, it’s a complete waste. Besides that, don’t you think his rank is unfairly high? Even though it’s still in the single digits, it’s not as if he wouldn’t be at home in the basement levels. If someone could send my complaints along to the house, I’d appreciate it.

My Future Plans

Surviving?

My Talents

Chasing sticks. Eating absurd quantities of garbage. Fouling up perfectly nice beds. Trampling flowers.

Favorite Books, Movies, Music, and Food

Meat.

My Ideal Partner

Someone skilled at training dogs.

Height 169cm / ~5’7 Body Type fine Smokes apparently Drinks i think so Drugs maybe Sign ? Education laughable Occupation unemployed Income unpaid Children none? Pets he is one Hobbies cooking

art credit: one. two. three. four. five.

01. WINE OR BEER

BEER

.02 CLOWNS OR MIMES

“WHAT'S A MIME”

.03 SHOWER OR BATH

NEITHER

.04 PIRATES OR NINJAS

PIRATES? WHY ARE THERE SO MANY OF THESE

.05 TITS OR ASS

.06 COFFEE OR TEA

.07 SPICY OR SWEET

.08 SUMMER OR WINTER

.09 LEATHER OR LACE

10. ROUGH SEX OR GENTLE SEX

Personality Type
ISFP-A

ENERGY

73%

introverted

MIND

76%

observant

NATURE

66%

feeling

TACTICS

54%

prospecting

IDENTITY

75%

assertive

personality test. art credit.

hover for rating.

Comments

[relater]

[ Ironic, that his grip is just a hair shy of painful and yet the connection it forges blanches his heart of all the other forces impressed on it. Kizuna's fingers twitch and then go lax as he's hauled through the rows of blinking and blaring machines. Like this, he's an easy passenger: all wiggles, no bones. He answers and it's dim with wonder and a little dread, like the silence of a forest in the presence of a predator. ]

...ah — people. It's people... no ghosts this time.

[ He's trying to feel what he can but it's useless in a place like this, nerves already shot. Only ambient violence remains. ]

Kirma, are you...?

[ like, okay?? ]

[conspecifics]

Am I what, ( comes the snap, clouded with a venom not normally found anywhere near kirma’s vicinity, let alone welling up from within him, specifically. it’s clearly a no, even if the question hasn’t been fully spoken. kirma doesn’t so much as spare him a glance, as they march out of the arcade, steps heavy with the weight of desires unfulfilled. it hasn’t been a complete strikeout of a night, but once the blood was rinsed from his fingers, so too did any satisfaction whirl with it down the drain. and then—

here they are. the halls, quieter, the tinny noises of games and enticements still audible. kirma releases kizuna’s wrist, takes a step onwards without him, and then finally pivots to hold out a slightly less antagonistic paw. a concession he forces himself to make as he tries to choke down the seething currents deep within him, the tension of the struggle filling his body out to the fingertips. )

And what was wrong with the people?

( a bit of small talk will suppress the misplaced urge to savage kizuna like a feral animal, surely. )

1/2. this is a real tag but brb

[relater]

[ WEHHH WHAT HAVE THEY DONE TO HIS DOG ]

2/2. ok im back

[relater]

[ It's a lash of tongue that makes Kizuna flinch and immediately push past the saturation threshold of his senses. He's seeking an outline, an origin point, the disembodied well from which these feelings are being tapped. Whatever's being dredged up... it pours over him, thick and bitter and stinging.

Slowly, Kizuna reaches out for the forbidden beans, less daunted by the threat of violence than he should be. So it goes. ]

It was the Clubs gathering. Turns out, a bunch of the same suit together means it's a lot harder to regulate certain things...

[ His other hand joins the first, sandwiching said paw gratefully through his strain. ]

Where were you?

[conspecifics]

( what are you, his wife



oh right. professionally, yes. )

Hearts.

( a single word that speaks volumes; a suit, but not his own. there might be a connection there, there might not. this is the first time he’s tried to flaunt the casino’s decree, and it feels as though he’s been laced through with tar for his audacity. his fingers curl against kizuna’s palm, at least able to find some appreciation for the cool touch surrounding his paw.

a touch can only go so far, against the weight of a dozen lifetimes’ worth of built resentment, drawn to the surface against its will. it sits under his tongue like a pill forced into his mouth, slowly dissolving and suffusing his body even in his reluctance to swallow. with their hands joined, or something like that, he tugs at kizuna. )

We’re still near. ( as if the arcade is the worst of kizuna’s problems, right now. )

[relater]

[ His feelings simply need a pill pocket, got it. ]

You crashed their party? How unlike you. [ Kizuna distills that single word and wrings the neutrality out of it, a lightness in his tone that's ill-suited to the rasp of his anxiety. He follows easily despite himself, willing to be lead wherever in implicit trust. ] ...It doesn't seem like it went well.

[ Also implicit in his trust is his willingness to say so, to acknowledge that pulse of hostility. ]

[conspecifics]

( unlike him? well. he supposes that much is true. on a normal day, he'd rather clamp down on a desire than pursue it. today has been anything but; there's a dim connection there, between searching out people at parties and the avoidance of his own, but it will take a clearer head to make solid. as things are, one ear turns back, chasing kizuna's observation, and the look he gets as a reward for speaking up is baleful at best.

on the other paw. perhaps there's another hidden desire under all the seethe, the quiet kind of voice that says, i want to be seen. i want to be heard. perhaps that's what makes him pause, in the empty gilded halls, to turn back to kizuna properly. to take his hand. kirma is no more thrilled for it, no less on the verge of something dark, but— he's trying. )

You seem like the type of person that'd easily be taken for granted.

( if it's true, he doesn't know. it's a similarity that he's felt, that's all; something that binds him. and: ) It was something a bit like that.

[relater]

[ There's a familiarity in it. It's folded into the space where he expects to be reprimanded and rebuffed, an expectation that almost brings him some misaligned comfort until it doesn't actually come. The pieces are there, but they don't fit. Kizuna is being a little unfair in the undertow of these emotions, paw in paw. His expression flashes momentarily; he can't argue that point. Instead, he takes a moment to try and break the surface before he suffocates, finding the familiar dog-shaped form against the light. ]

What's worse, do you suppose? Looking for something you can't find, or finding it in the wrong circumstances?

[ They're not idle questions, empathy pressing up from the beneath he pressure of a fellow black suit. That much he's aware of, even if the animosity is unmoored and difficult to pin down. It's not as though the emotions aren't his, but — the suits are funny things, wringing them like iron.

Regardless, it seems as though he's being at least a little rhetorical too. He hefts his paw gently, up and down. ]

Thank you for coming to get me.