RP account for Una Pequeña Muerte, a multi-fandom RP.
[Badou’s gleeful grin couldn’t get any wider even if he lost the gag reflex and extended the jaws like some boys we know, and he practically skipped over to Wolfram, tugging him over by a handful of his shirt over to a group huddle or something, grinning from ear to ear] You’ll join this mostly hard boiled, hard clipboard an now hard Martha Stuart wannabee ragtag group? Really, really? Alriiiiiiiiiiight~ I was a lil worried there, but thank fuck you let down yer hair. Haaaaah fuck ‘m so glad I don’t gotta be stuck with this dickbiter all by myself! [Badou choked out, blessing them both with a mock wibble-y lip and a shimmering eye, though that could have been the shitty light we’ve got to work with, or leftover gas; he really was thrilled though, in the most manliest of ways]
An anyway, if we’re really gonna talk about what we do in our freetime, do we really gotta bring up th’clipboard under yer mattress, or th’calculator you tuck into bed at night, mom? Maybe one of th’princes fer our dazzlin’ services can be a tv, that’ll keep you from makin’ that shit my new stepdad. As long as we don’t gotta watch no soaps…or Walker Texas Ranger…that show gives me bad juju…
[But Kyouya’s mumbo jumbo registered eventually and, taking one of the papers from the teen, Badou scanned the document and cocked an eyebrow] As long as we don’t gotta get matchin’ tattoos of yer face on our asses, I don’t really give a fuck. Ah, no I better read it closely, yer good at squeezin’ into tight spaces, assfan….[With a grumble he read the rest, muttered something about no sick days, supreme sovereignty, required ties on thursdays, as well as the ritual sacrifice of one tiny business corporation once every blue moon, and shrugged] Kayyy what th’fuckever, let’s get this shit done already, ‘m ready ta do this~
Wait, another poor fuckin’ sap? Uuuuuhhhh…[He scratched a mantit in thought] Mayyyybe one guy, but he’s a total dickwad…what about you two, any ideas? What’s step three of this whole shingdig anyhow? Advertisin’? Cause ‘m pretty good at that, better’n yer brainwashin’ tactics mom.
Oh, Shinou, he was going to have to sign his life away to this tycoon? Wolfram had the feeling that, even if they had become decent enough of friends, that Kyouya would be the type to hold whatever was in the contract against him. So, he opted to burn holes into the piece of paper with his gaze, brows drawing together. A dainty little hand reached out to snatch the paper from Badou so he could inspect it himself. Green eyes scanned it thoroughly, quietly.
“Nothing weird, right?” he glanced up at Badou, then turned to look at Kyouya. “I don’t want to do anything weird. Everything has to be done in a business, professional manner. I don’t know about you,” he nodded to Kyouya, “but this guy,” jerks his head towards Badou, “has a knack at turning things into some embarrassing situation I’m going to regret.” Regardless, he’d said he’d do it, right? Ugh, what a pain.
“I don’t know many people,” he admitted, openly. He didn’t care that people knew he had a general aversion to the people here, and that most of his time he’d spent holed up with his former fiance. He rather liked that, actually. But, well, here he was. “So I couldn’t say that I know anyone to recommend.” Insert careless shrug. “We can just go with whoever Badou wants, right? I don’t care.” Anyway, he was just about to sign his life away, to the one Badou insisted on calling ‘mommy.’ Well, he’d come up with weird nicknames before, but the blonde was just a little curious.
“Why does he call you that?” The boy asked pointedly, arching a brow. Naturally, he assumed Kyouya would know what he meant. He seemed sharp enough. That and he couldn’t be bothered to explain much more than that.
[Dickbiter?, Kyouya thought, shaking his head at the creative insults Badou oh-so-lovingly gave his pester-targets, and just what the hell was Badou bringing up this ‘Walker, Texas Ranger’ or ‘soaps’ for? What did any of this have to do with anything? Did clipboards under pillows or calculators tucked into beds mean something suggestive? He’d never heard that sexual innuendo before if it even was such a thing, and just decided it’d be best to ignore it.]
Yes, I’m quite good at placing things in between the lines, so please read carefully.
I’m sure I have no idea what you mean by ‘brainwashing,’ Badou, but whatever you say, I’m sure you can convince someone else just as well as you convinced Wolfram here.
[turns to the huffy blonde]
I can assure you there’s nothing weird - well, at least that we can control - that will happen. We can’t control others but as far as we go, well, it should be pretty cut-and-dry. I’m not really one for ‘weird’ things.
“Why does he call you that?” - [Kyouya blinked for a moment before he realized what Wolfram was referencing]
Oh, I assume you mean ‘Mom,’ or some variation thereof? [Kyouya unconsciously slightly clenched his jaw, thinking of the way Badou whined ‘Mommy’ especially incessantly - but his thoughts were also turned partway to Tamaki and their little name game, and all the things that came with it.]
Mm, well, it’s a nickname my best friend, the president of our host club that we started together, coined back home. He fashioned himself the ‘daddy’ of the newest
blackmailee recruit, a girl you may have met named Haruhi Fujioka, and I was the ‘mommy’ because I handle the finances, profits, et cetera. The nickname just sort of stuck, I suppose, and of course Badou exploits it constantly.
…if you’re thinking about calling me that, too, then I may have to add some debt to your person.
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