awashlogs | https://i.imgur.com/W2TqBCP.png

[ Caramia did quite love this season. Really, he loved making treats, and seeing kids happy with them. So really, is it any surprise he's fussing over this? Even if it wasn't a quest, he'd still be sitting in the room contemplating... everything. This would be so easy if he weren't so limited. He could make parfaits or pies or tarts or cookies or little pudding cups or pumpkin bread!

But he was lacking way too much to make any of that. Ugh. He couldn't just not make something. It had to be something nice. Something that would make people happy. Especially with it getting cold. People could really do with something hot- ]

Chocolate...! [ Right! He still had that container of hot chocolate lying about! That... should work, right? Hell, he could even steal a pumpkin to make a fine puree. Pumpkin hot chocolate sounded fucking amazing right about now.

So, hey, anyone who's drawn to the smell of something hot and delicious, or just drawn to the sight of some idiot trying to juggle two old kettles in one hand and a dozen mugs in the other, wanna hit said idiot up? Maybe, just maybe he'd be willing to share.

(Spoilers: he's totally willing to share. That doofy smile on his face should tell as much!) ]

[ It sucked that the colder weather was rolling in, since that meant he had to smuggle in another blanket and tuck himself against any warmth in the middle of the night, which in this instance just so happened to be Kyrie! (Yaaay.)

But wasn't it nice to have him around, regardless? Most people might've said no, but damn it, Caramia loved this boy's company. Which is why when he opened his eyes and his sight was immediately assaulted with one abhorrent looking hat, he didn't laugh. Not... completely, anyway. There was definitely a snort, but... he swallowed it back as much as he could, struggling to stifle a smile. ]

Kyrie? [ He nudged his consigliere. He knew Kyrie hated to be woken up, but... this seemed kind of important. ] Kyrie, what... um, happened?

[ Pull off the fucking covers, Kyrie. Do it. ]

Edited 2018-10-19 05:43 (UTC)

He really does hate to be woken up, you know. Especially now that he's been all but absolved of any mafia responsibilities and can let himself sleep in as often as he'd like, rather than whenever he can get away with it. Which... to be fair, was still essentially as often as he'd like? But hey, details aren't important.

At first he only squeezes his eyes tightly shut with some soft noise of displeasure, as if he might return to his undisturbed sleep by just turning his face further into the pillow beneath him. But he's a light sleeper, and that's not happening, so it's only a beat later that he starts the dreadful process of Waking Up by blinking blearily towards the moron who woke him.

"Caramia..." Even with exhaustion clinging heavy to his voice, there's unmistakable irritation kindled neatly beneath even just his name. He shifts again to push himself up a bit with one arm. His other hand goes to rub at his eye (and habitually brush his bangs into place) but he goes still at the sound of... straw? Is that straw??

That sure is straw tied right around his wrists like it has any business being there! And--is it around his neck, too? Seriously?? Suddenly Caramia's like, the last of his concerns. He's too busy taking stock of what kind of bullshit he's found himself in the middle of this morning. Hey, it won't come untied! Great! And the big, obnoxious hat, the brim of which seems so keen on dipping into his line of sight, won't come off either.

He can sort of see where this is going, because of course he can, but also because the more he's startled awake, the more aware he becomes of the unfamiliar fabric he's... undoubtedly going to be stuck in, just the same. He's only got his top half exposed with how he's sitting, but he can absolutely tell he won't want to stand up any time soon.

"What the hell..."

If Caramia knows what's good for him, he'll keep his mouth shut.

Unfortunately for Kyrie, he doesn’t know what’s good for him. So that’s where we’re at. At first, he seemed really worried. How did he manage to just change outfits over night? How did he manage to not pull anything off? How was it stuck? And furthermore, was having it on going to cause any bad side effects?

However, his concern abruptly halted the moment Kyrie sat up and uttered his “what the hell”. It’s one thing to be worried about your boyfriend stuck in a magic costume, but another to see him in the goofiest thing Caramia has ever fucking seen. Without any prior warning, there is a sharp snort from Caramia, breaking the floodgates of pure, unabashed laughter. He wasn’t sure what got him the most. The way his shirt fell from his clear lack of chest, the puffy sleeves, or the way this was clearly tailored to someone far more feminine than Kyrie.

He looked ridiculous either way, though. How could he not laugh?

One second Kyrie's busy tugging at mysteriously unyielding knot at his wrist as if any amount of effort might make a difference; the next, his attention is pulled sharply back to Caramia, who has officially just earned the title of 'Kyrie's Soon-To-Be Ex'. Congratulations! He's the worst.

Kyrie can already feel heat creeping its way onto his face, which is probably why he doesn't immediately turn to snap at Caramia for laughing. Instead, his shoulders tense, his hands go still, and for just a moment, he squeezes his eyes stubbornly closed as he draws in a steadying breath through his nose. He needs to be rational here!! It's clear that Caramia didn't have anything to do with this, which means it has to be the town's doing. So... is it really worth killing the man he loves just because he has the gall to laugh at him like this?

...Maybe not. Probably. But rational thought still helpfully suggests that, while murder might not be the answer, hitting him would still definitely make him feel better.

So he does! Hope the enjoyment Caramia got was worth it, because the second Kyrie's eyes open again he's moving to throw an absolutely devastating blow RIGHT into Caramia's chest... which is hard enough to bruise, and at an angle intended to shut him up by force, but like. Still not strong enough to pose any legitimate threat on its own. Boo.

"You're lucky I don't shoot you dead, you stupid, shitty lion." He certainly sounds like he means it, and the threat behind his glare is enough to back it up. Too bad the costume detracts from his intimidation factor... and so does the unmistakable blush. "You think this is funny?"

[ His laughter didn't subside, even despite the new pain in his chest. Yeah, thanks for that, asshole. As if you wouldn't have laughed in his position... Caramia knew better than to say that, or really even think that himself, however. He did feel a little bad he was basically just laughing at his boyfriend like this, but he felt like maybe this was one of those things he couldn't really help. But...

...Oh? Oh no. Oh no, was he actually upset? A pang of guilt shoots across his features for a moment. Hey? Don't do that. An overwhelming urge to reach out and protect Kyrie made Caramia's hand twitch uncertainly towards him. Shit sucked when that thing that made Kyrie like that was Caramia himself.

Still, an urge is an urge, and Caramia isn't one to ever really ignore those. So, despite the pain in his chest, and the clear signs of danger that Kyrie was giving off, Caramia braved the waters anyway and nestled Kyrie into a protective hold that Caramia's all but mastered at this point. His fingers traced his 'I'm sorry's into his side as he gently grazed the cheaply made fabric. ]

You don't? I mean... [ He reaches for the front of the shirt that draped so low because of the clear lack of anything there to support it, picking at the cloth with his fingers. ] It's... a little funny.

[ A beat. He nestles his face under the awful hat right against Kyrie's cheek and nuzzles him without any hesitation. ] That get-up is, anyway. I'm not mocking you any, mio caro.

Honestly... Kyrie's had some rude awakenings in his lifetime, but this is a whole new level. His glare isn't lowered even as Caramia reaches for him, and the only reason he doesn't shove him away right then and there is because he'd have to put himself somewhere else to really drive the point home, and he is NOT going to storm off like this. He'd like to maintain some semblance of pride, thanks.

Still, he's very obviously tense, and his face still feels uncomfortably warm. An irritated sigh escapes between them in one sharp burst of air.

"It isn't funny," he snaps, but he sort of just ends up sounding the way a kid stomping his foot looks. And don't tug at it like that?? Kyrie swats at his hand so he doesn't somehow make it worse. "How would you like to wake up in something like this? You wouldn't, would you?"

Actually, he probably wouldn't even mind it, but not everyone has a magical source of courage, asshole. Plus, the straw is just adding insult to injury... Even if Caramia isn't mocking him, the town obviously is. That's bad enough.

Anyway, before Caramia can say anything he starts pushing himself away just enough to start trying to shift the dress off. It's not that he expects anything different, really... he just wants to confirm that, yep, he sure is stuck! But it's not as if the fabric won't move--as a matter of fact he manages to slip one of the shoulders until it's hanging scandalously loose on his arm easily enough, which probably just looks even more ridiculous--but it definitely refuses to let him pull himself free of it properly. He wants to avoid trying to pull it over his head, since he's... still doing his best to keep the skirt hidden. Just for now. Until he knows the hand he's playing with.

So instead, he sighs again, and glances over.

"Caramia. You try." Yeah, Caramia, you try! Strip your boyfriend before he really does shoot you. Or, you know, give it your best shot, anyway. He just?? Needs to see if there isn't some loophole out of this, before he can properly resign himself to his fate.

Yeeeaaah, Caramia's not answering that. Mostly because if he woke up in something like that, he'd promptly point out that Kyrie would absolutely laugh at him, because it would, in fact, be funny. That, and he'd probably just roll with it? Until he realized it was fucking cold, in which case, he'd suffer inside all the time under the blankets because he didn't want to catch anything. But that's besides the point.

He seemed fairly skeptical about trying to get it off, however. Did Kyrie honestly think it was going to make much of a difference if Caramia did anything? Besides, Caramia was more liable to use force that might hurt Kyrie in the end, and that idea wasn't exactly thrilling for him in the slightest. But... sure, he'll try.

He reached for the hat first, tugging on it, only to have to slide to the side of Kyrie's head, but not making any effort to come off. Oookay. Sure. That's how hats work now, he guessed. He reached for the back of the dress next, sliding his fingers under the jean-like fabric and digging his sharp nails against it. He gave a few rough tugs, but ultimately, beyond a couple new tears, it wasn't coming as undone as he would've liked. For being so flimsy, it certainly did have an easy time enduring Caramia's claws. Unfortunate.

Edited 2018-10-25 02:10 (UTC)

Well he's pretty confident in the fact Caramia's not the type to try just. Ripping it off of him. And he doesn't really expect anything to change... but at the same time, if it had ended up that all he'd needed to do to get it off was have someone else do it, and he hadn't tried? He really would be an idiot, then.

No such luck, in any case. The costume might act and feel like normal fabric, but there's clearly something irregular keeping it from coming off. Cool! That's fine. This is his life then, he guesses. He clicks his tongue and twists so he can discourage Caramia from trying any further, one hand reaching up to shove the hat back into place at the same time.

"Well don't tear it, idiot." It would probably still cling to him even if they did manage to get it in tatters... "Even a wild animal ought to know when to apply some restraint. Or do you intend to claw me in two in the process?"

There's not even a single scratch on him. What he probably means is, 'Thanks, but that isn't working.' Oh well!! At least he can't be disappointed when he hadn't expected anything in the first place. And he hasn't noticed any adverse effects yet, so he should be able to just... wait this out. Ugh.

"This town has an awful sense of humor..."

He removed his nails, flicking some stray fabric off of his nails and tugged Kyrie back in to settle him where he belonged. He's not surprised he couldn't help, but he's not any less disappointed that he couldn't, anyway.

"It's not coming off any other way, I thought it'd help. Don't tell me you've already grown attached to it." You know, more attached than just it being literally attached to him, that is. "Of course not. I'd prefer to use my teeth for that."

Under any other circumstances, that might have come off as fairly passionate of him. Not necessarily a rarity, but certainly of him initiating anything of the sort so suddenly. But, unfortunately, there are no tender kisses or general closeness to follow this up. Rather, he's got a doofy smile on his face and laughter in his eyes that threatened to spill from his mouth.

"Though, maybe not right now."

Edited 2018-10-25 06:17 (UTC)

"Hardly."

He doesn't offer any resistance as he's pulled back in, now that the risk of being stuck in a ratty costume has been avoided, and even goes so far as to rest his head against him. It's fortunate that the hat is as pliable as it is--it just sort of folds with the pressure, which is infinitely better than pressing uncomfortably between them. He doesn't know how long he'll be stuck like this, so he should probably be mindful that nothing gets horribly wrinkled or deformed... Just because everyone else seems to have abandoned the societal pressure to dress well doesn't mean he has.

Of course he doesn't get to muse over that thought for very long, because Caramia has to be awful. Maybe not as awful as he COULD be, but Kyrie's not an idiot, he sees you. Sure he's only teasing, the tone of his voice a dead giveaway even if he didn't have that ridiculous grin on his face, but that's... probably what spurs Kyrie to act, honestly. If he wants to play like that, then he'll take it at face value.

The irritation is smoothed from his expression as easily as putting on a mask, and he tilts his head gently to the side, away from Caramia's shoulder.

"Hmm?" He reaches one hand up to draw his fingers lightly along Caramia's jaw, guiding him to look more fully towards him. If your boyfriend doesn't supply tender kisses and closeness for you to weaponize, storebought is fine. "Is that right..."

On the one hand, the total shift in mood is a pretty obvious clue he's not serious, but on the other... well he's also just Like This sometimes, isn't he? Maybe he's into that sexy scarecrow aesthetic. ~~(Ha. He's not.)~~ But regardless, he's quick to turn himself so he's more or less kneeling over Caramia's lap, movements smooth and calculated like he actually is trying to seduce him. The blanket is henceforth abandoned, since... there's no point in trying to hide anything if he's gonna be stuck like this indefinitely. Enjoy the rest of the costume...?

"And why not now?"

He's not quite close enough to kiss him, but he's hovering near enough that it's a possibility. But, hey, maybe do everyone a favor and don't fall for such an obvious trick.

It didn't take much for Caramia to find time to slide in his own kisses on Kyrie's face. If he was going to pull his attention that way, it's what he was going to get, regardless of the topic at hand. They could've been arguing and would've gotten the same treatment.

But these kisses halt the moment the covers are no longer obscuring the rest of Kyrie's... "outfit". And that's when this hideous costume goes from "funny" to "outright hysterical". He wasn't even looking at Kyrie at this point, just that horribly short skirt that was probably supposed to be a cover, and probably would've done a poor job of it were it on someone who actually had an ass to speak of.

"...Kyrie," He managed, through giggles of amusement. "Are you... wearing panties?"

HE HAS TO BE, RIGHT? There's no explanation as to why he can't see anything under that very, very short skirt, because he damn well knows what kind of underwear Kyrie wears, and those boys would be showing like that. But they're not. So that means...

Caramia, again, without any restraint in mind, just loses it. He laughs so hard a gust of wind would knock him onto the bed. To which he'll probably still laugh, because this was the best thing that could possibly happen. He'd say "sorry", Kyrie, but the moment you tried to be seductive in that get-up, you were honestly asking for this, and more.

Hey. Hey. Who asked? Who fucking asked, Caramia??

It's almost comical how quickly his expression shifts again, annoyance etching itself back into the crease of his brow and murder dancing its way back into his eyes. Hell, the color in his cheeks hasn't even properly faded yet--and by the looks of things, it won't happen any time soon, either. Thanks! This is the worst.

Caramia has approximately two whole seconds after he gets his question out before he's promptly shoved backwards.

"Honestly." Kyrie rocks back in a huff to drop himself over his own legs, his hands smoothing the skirt down in the process. This costume was definitely not meant to be knelt in, no matter who ended up wearing it... "You've got some nerve to ask me a question like that..."

That sure isn't an answer, but it's all he's getting!!

Caramia asked, actually. And that's why they're here.

He falls back into the back in a fit of laughter, trying to pull Kyrie down with him with general tugs as if to say "I'm sorry, please don't be mad". He comes bearing the promise of cuddles and kisses, even if he can't promise he'll stop laughing anytime soon.

"It slipped out, admittedly. It's the first thing I noticed," he pointed out. 'What color are they?' came to mind, not as a serious question, but just something to embarrass Kyrie more. He wondered just how red he could get his consigliere's face today?

Alas... he decided against that.

"Are they comfortable, at least?"

Caramia can tug on him all he likes, but he'll avoid any damning holds so he can stay right here, thank you!! And what the hell is this 'it's the first thing I noticed' bullshit??

"Ohh, so that's it then!" At least this sounds more like his usual, playful(?) insults, the overdramatic fury of it coming as naturally as breathing. "Caramia. Are you saying the first thing you think when you see a skirt is of what's underneath?" He sort of walked himself into that one. But, hey, it's easier for Kyrie to latch onto this habitual banter than address the fact he's become the target of bullying.

The second awful question gets a pillow thrown over Caramia's face, and while Kyrie might not let Caramia pull him down, he uses the opportunity to shift himself forward anyway. He ends up laying half on top of him and half to the side, one arm folded over Caramia's chest (he does drop his weight down with some mild force, sorry buddy) so he can rest his chin there. Don't make him move again, he's... apparently decided this is comfortable? Not that you'd know it for how he's glaring at him.

"You really are the worst of the worst, aren't you?"

"Of course not. Just when I see a skirt on you. There's a big difference there. And unless you start thinking to yourself that wearing skirts is something you want to do more often, it's probably going to always be something I think about."

And boy is he tempted to still ask what color they are!!!

He doesn't, however. Mostly because while Kyrie might be pouting and huffy, he's still put himself in prime position for hugs, so Caramia wrapped his arms around his dumb, grumpy boyfriend the best he could, humming to himself. Hopefully, this wasn't a permanent thing. Not because it would suck that Kyrie was stuck in something like that- which, it was- but mostly because, with the weather getting colder, it was unwise to be wearing something so revealing.

The thought made Caramia quickly find the blankets to drape over Kyrie.

"I certainly don't think so. But if I am, then what does that say about your tastes?"

Alright, that really doesn't make anything better. How often it happens isn't nearly as relevant as the whole 'If I see you in a skirt, I'm going to immediately wonder what you're wearing under it' part. Honestly... And he calls himself a gentleman!

Kyrie lets the subject drop with only a muttered, "Pervert," that directly contrasts with the total lack of resistance to the arms that fold so comfortably around him. Despite all the embarrassment and complaints, it's still a hell of a lot earlier than he would care to be awake. He knows this. Caramia knows this. He even knows that Caramia knows this! It's pretty much a universal fact by now. Just let him lay here and pretend that he can forget any of this ever happened?

"My taste has nothing to do with it. If anything, it's a testament to how drastically my standards have fallen..."

It's hard to lie convincingly when he really just sounds like he's pouting--especially when he ends up looking the part the moment he lets his head tip to the side so his cheek can rest at the crook of his elbow. The straw collar may not be as forgiving as the hat, but... after a moment, between their shared warmth beneath the blanket, and the deep-rooted contentedness that comes with being so close, he does start to relax. His glare softens, then disappears entirely as he lets his eyes fall shut with a sigh.

"...You have absolutely no sense of self-preservation." His free arm reaches up to smack the pillow that Caramia's just... left over his face. Like a moron. "I could suffocate you just like this, and you would never see it coming. You shouldn't leave yourself so vulnerable, stupid lion."

Caramia, admittedly, clearly wasn't thinking when he said that. But? It made sense in his head, so clearly Kyrie could at least understand it! Right? ...Hm. Note to self: Maybe try to phrase things better in the future.

"O~h? Is that you saying I'm in good taste?" he cooed, happily, with a grin on his face akin to a child getting someone to fall for the old "do you have updog" joke. Was he finding the little things Kyrie was saying as ammo against him? Yes. Absolutely. "Grazie. I'm glad you think that."

Fortunately for Kyrie, he doesn't get to see his pout. Not without some kind of X-ray vision, anyway, and he couldn't exactly go ask Superman how he could hook a lion up with that anytime soon. But when Kyrie knocked the pillow off, Caramia's own eyes would've blinked open a few times, unreasonably tired looking for someone who had only been under that for a few seconds tops.

"Hmm... well, that's just not true," He shut his eyes again, adjusting his arms so he could hold Kyrie properly as he settled back down into the bed. "I'm comfortable with you here. You say "vulnerable", but when you're in my arms like this, I feel invincible. No bullet nor blade-- nor pillow-- could part me from you, tesoro."

https://i.imgur.com/W2TqBCP.png

OTA - Treaty McSweety

In Which Kyrie is Mocked

Who hates him more: Chroma or Caramia?

Yes

That's valid

Can't believe this is the thread they break up in

It's about time tbh

Now he can finally be free.

Unlike Kyrie, who will never be freed from this costume

Good. If he was free then they couldn't break up? Let Caramia go.

No. But he deserves it.

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