Hi, hi! I've had a writeblr before, but left after remaking my entire Tumblr account. Got a bit busy, but missed the community so much that I wanted back in <3
-About me-
Korka or Corky - whichever you prefer
adult
BAs in two foreign languages and their respective literature, working towards my MAs! :>
I've been writing for about as long as I've known of myself, but only started taking it seriously in the last 5-6 years, and only in the past year or two did I really start figuring out what I want to write, so my style is still unpolished and I still consider myself in my "finding myself" era
major procrastinator and experiencer of what I think is executive dysfunction; I will try my bestest to be active on here, but I might take a week or seven to read a single excerpt, though not for lack of interest or trying!! Nevertheless, please tag me in your works so I won't lose them in the dash :3
you can support me by following me here and/or by buying me a ko-fi
-What I write-
prose, short story lover, but I'm also working on some longer projects with the goal of eventually self-publishing!
literary movements I draw inspiration from the most are the romantic period (especially gothic) and symbolist movement, as well as the spirit of avant-garde's experimentation and pushing boundaries
my biggest role model is Charles Baudelaire :>
genres I like to stick to: fantasy, horror, horror/dark fantasy, recently tried experimenting with social satire, but we'll see how that goes
I feel most comfortable in fantasy and historical, but I love writing horror the most
I love worldbuilding and writing body horror/gore the most, but describing body language and appearance is something I desperately need to work on
I'm a planner and a perfectionist, so it might take some time for me to intro my WIPs properly, but I'm more than happy to talk about my OCs in the meantime :>
-Some links-
WIP intro - MeetCute: Oliver
OC intro - Oliver Borghese
-What I'd love to read-
genres: horror (especially dark fantasy!!), fantasy, "cheesy" romances, historical!!!!! I'm not too picky on genres, but if you mix horror in it, I'll love it even more
details: ngl those hyper-specific fantasy academy settings in coming-of-age stories hit different, detailed worldbuilding is everything to me, best-friends-to-lovers? chef's kiss. enemies-to-lovers? even louder chef's kiss. Morally ambiguous characters, morally questionable protagonists, I just love when the cast is formed of imperfect characters where you can't with 100% certainty say "x is evil" or "y is good". Make me think !
I also love reading poetry, though I'm not the best at analysing it and understanding particularly deep analogies, I love poetry that deals with abstract feelings, interpersonal relationships and personal philosophies <3
-I don't know how to end this :> -
A bit more about what i love writing/reading:
I'm from a Slavic country and dislike the way Slavic characters get written in western media, so most of my OCs are Slavic and I love to see a fleshed out Slavic character
I love body horror as an allegory for bodily autonomy and beauty standards. It's fun as horror, too, but as an allegory - very fun to explore
In general, I'm weak for a good symbol
And on me:
I spent most of my time in the last few years writing fanfiction, but so eager to focus on original fiction, too
I tend to write on-and-off, I'm either busy or tired, and sadly can go months without any progress :< I hope this changes as I get more settled into life
But! I've taken a recent liking to just making OCs without any particular WIP attached to them, so I'll probs talk about them if nothing else :)
I just missed the community of a writeblr a lot, so I'm hoping to make friends on here ! ^_^
being a female knight fucking sucks. every squire boy i get turns out to be an adult woman with short hair who's just in it to sensually strap my armor to me. CHOP CHOP bitch the French are trying to sack our castle!
Hey, hey! Friendly reminder to make sure your supposedly âfearlessâ character gets their darkest fear revealed in the worst way possible so they break down into a vulnerable shaking mess in front of all the people they care aboutÂ
Anyone say fake dating to real dating? A Visual Novel WIP I've been working on for the last few months - or since the job advertisement I replied to with this concept rejected me after telling me they want their writers to use Al and I decided I don't need them to make the concept into a game, anyway.
Synopsis: You were just trying to do some work and maybe have a little drink when when you met him - an up-and-coming actor with an odd sense of humour. Following a pretend date orchestrated to "mess with" the paparazzi, you agree to meet with him as friends and, bit by bit, you get to know Oliver for who he is when he's not scrutinised by cameras or hiding behind humour. Whether your relationship remains friendly, goes cold, or blossoms into romance remains up to you.
Genre: slice-of-life romance
Form: visual novel made using Ren'py
Themes: fame and its impact on the psyche, familial bonds, slowburn romance growing from friendship, rivalries and friendships and how they mix for industry coworkers
Status: demo (first two chapters) in progress, hopefully finished by July.
Characters:
Oliver, the LI (intro post)
Freddy, Oliver's frenemy and fellow actor (intro post coming soon)
You :)
MeetCute: Oliver is a visual novel that follows you in the adventure that is getting to know another person. The MC is gender neutral, you can input the name you wish to use, but, if left empty, Alex is the default name. As a visual novel with only one LI, it is extremely character-driven, with emphasis placed more so on the character of Oliver than the plot itself. Or, rather, Oliver is the plot.
Throughout the game, Oliver will reveal more and more of himself to you as he starts to feel more comfortable around you. He will start confiding in you, sharing his hopes, dreams and fears with you, inviting you on more and more intimate hang-outs until they turn into dates. His jokes will turn into candid comments and observations, he'll start looking at you as something more than just a person who's surprisingly willing to pull a prank in collaboration with someone they'd just met.
As this is the project I've decided to dip my toes into visual novel making with, it's incredibly inoffensive and - dare I say - basic. But, to be honest, I kinda wanted to write cute little basic romance anyway. It's nothing radical or revolutionary, but I want to think of it as a test project. Hence, the fact that Oliver is a subtitle. I'm having a lot of fun using Ren'py, so the project after this one might be something more my usual style, but I don't think there's anything wrong with deciding to finish Oliver's story first. It's a way to practice, to get my head around what makes a "good" visual novel, and to not waste a perfectly okay concept I had already made anyway.
And also I kinda grew attached to him now.
Although I'll be doing all the writing for MeetCute (hence why I'm posting it in Writeblr tags), I am so happy to say that the rest of the resources all come from free-to-use sources (happy to say in the sense that I am, once again, making a jab at the fact that the programmer who rejected my job application is attempting to use Al for every creative step of his process). Pixabay and Unsplash for background images and music, picrew for character art, Google fonts, Ren'py's program, etc.
It's been a while since I was active on Writeblr, can't remember if there's anything else that needs to be added. Ask to be added onto the taglist for this :]
Anyone say fake dating to real dating? A Visual Novel WIP I've been working on for the last few months - or since the job advertisement I replied to with this concept rejected me after telling me they want their writers to use Al and I decided I don't need them to make the concept into a game, anyway.
Synopsis: You were just trying to do some work and maybe have a little drink when when you met him - an up-and-coming actor with an odd sense of humour. Following a pretend date orchestrated to "mess with" the paparazzi, you agree to meet with him as friends and, bit by bit, you get to know Oliver for who he is when he's not scrutinised by cameras or hiding behind humour. Whether your relationship remains friendly, goes cold, or blossoms into romance remains up to you.
Genre: slice-of-life romance
Form: visual novel made using Ren'py
Themes: fame and its impact on the psyche, familial bonds, slowburn romance growing from friendship, rivalries and friendships and how they mix for industry coworkers
Status: demo (first two chapters) in progress, hopefully finished by July.
Characters:
Oliver, the LI (intro post)
Freddy, Oliver's frenemy and fellow actor (intro post coming soon)
You :)
MeetCute: Oliver is a visual novel that follows you in the adventure that is getting to know another person. The MC is gender neutral, you can input the name you wish to use, but, if left empty, Alex is the default name. As a visual novel with only one LI, it is extremely character-driven, with emphasis placed more so on the character of Oliver than the plot itself. Or, rather, Oliver is the plot.
Throughout the game, Oliver will reveal more and more of himself to you as he starts to feel more comfortable around you. He will start confiding in you, sharing his hopes, dreams and fears with you, inviting you on more and more intimate hang-outs until they turn into dates. His jokes will turn into candid comments and observations, he'll start looking at you as something more than just a person who's surprisingly willing to pull a prank in collaboration with someone they'd just met.
As this is the project I've decided to dip my toes into visual novel making with, it's incredibly inoffensive and - dare I say - basic. But, to be honest, I kinda wanted to write cute little basic romance anyway. It's nothing radical or revolutionary, but I want to think of it as a test project. Hence, the fact that Oliver is a subtitle. I'm having a lot of fun using Ren'py, so the project after this one might be something more my usual style, but I don't think there's anything wrong with deciding to finish Oliver's story first. It's a way to practice, to get my head around what makes a "good" visual novel, and to not waste a perfectly okay concept I had already made anyway.
And also I kinda grew attached to him now.
Although I'll be doing all the writing for MeetCute (hence why I'm posting it in Writeblr tags), I am so happy to say that the rest of the resources all come from free-to-use sources (happy to say in the sense that I am, once again, making a jab at the fact that the programmer who rejected my job application is attempting to use Al for every creative step of his process). Pixabay and Unsplash for background images and music, picrew for character art, Google fonts, Ren'py's program, etc.
It's been a while since I was active on Writeblr, can't remember if there's anything else that needs to be added. Ask to be added onto the taglist for this :]
"Working in the film industry is my dream, always has been, but I never expected I'd have to sacrifice so much of my privacy for it. I get that that's what happens when you become famous, but, you know, all of my past projects were... not exactly mainstream. Then, last year, that bigshot director cast me in the lead role, saying he saw something in me, ha ha... ... I would have told him to kick rocks if I'd known this would have happened after the release."
(Love interest of MeetCute, a visual novel WIP)
Description:
Oliver is a 25-year-old Anglo-Italian man of average height and slim build. His black, slightly wavy hair is about as thick as his eyebrows, and contrasts his pale skin in a way that makes him look a bit ghostly under certain light. His downturned green eyes and aquiline nose give him a refined air that is complemented by his usual choice of clothing; lots of layering and jewellery. His accent is hard to place as it most closely resembles SSB, yet sounds somewhat forced.
Personality:
Oliver is, at his core, a jokester. He tries to appear mature and calm most of the time, but he can't help his nature. Cracking jokes and coming up with little pranks is one of his favourite past-times. But make no mistake: that doesn't mean he is an unserious person. He grew up in precarity, which helped instil the values of hard work into him, and he always puts his all into every project he starts. Even though he made a name for himself as an actor, he's somewhat of an introvert. Oliver's idea of an evening well spent is as cliche as it gets: curled up with a good book and a hot cup of tea.
Background:
As the only child of a single mother, Oliver grew up aware of financial insecurity from an early age. He was working odd jobs to help his mother since he was a tween, and got a part-time job early on in high school. When his mother was offered a secure full-time job when he was a junior, she, noticing her son had turned into a workaholic, all but ordered him to find an extracurricular he liked and have fun while he was still in school. That was when he joined the drama club and realised acting was his passion.
In college, he hung out in creative crowds, with people who wrote, who wanted to film, who wanted to produce, who wanted to act, people like himself. They made many short films and played them at events organised by themselves. When he was 22, one of their films was nominated for an award at a mid-sized film festival. Although they didn't win, it gave them all an opportunity to network and grow their opportunities.
It took one bigger name to hire him on for Oliver's name to start carrying weight, and he quickly grew his career from being an extra, to small supporting roles, to landing the lead role in a few films. Nevertheless, Oliver never forgot where he came from: he keeps in touch with the people with whom he started his career, and he makes sure his mother is well taken care of now that he can support her without worries.
One fun fact:
He's been reading more and more romantasy lately. Maybe he wants to experience a cheesy romance story himself...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
If you want to support me, consider visiting my ko-fi page <3
"Working in the film industry is my dream, always has been, but I never expected I'd have to sacrifice so much of my privacy for it. I get that that's what happens when you become famous, but, you know, all of my past projects were... not exactly mainstream. Then, last year, that bigshot director cast me in the lead role, saying he saw something in me, ha ha... ... I would have told him to kick rocks if I'd known this would have happened after the release."
(Love interest of MeetCute, a visual novel WIP)
Description:
Oliver is a 25-year-old Anglo-Italian man of average height and slim build. His black, slightly wavy hair is about as thick as his eyebrows, and contrasts his pale skin in a way that makes him look a bit ghostly under certain light. His downturned green eyes and aquiline nose give him a refined air that is complemented by his usual choice of clothing; lots of layering and jewellery. His accent is hard to place as it most closely resembles SSB, yet sounds somewhat forced.
Personality:
Oliver is, at his core, a jokester. He tries to appear mature and calm most of the time, but he can't help his nature. Cracking jokes and coming up with little pranks is one of his favourite past-times. But make no mistake: that doesn't mean he is an unserious person. He grew up in precarity, which helped instil the values of hard work into him, and he always puts his all into every project he starts. Even though he made a name for himself as an actor, he's somewhat of an introvert. Oliver's idea of an evening well spent is as cliche as it gets: curled up with a good book and a hot cup of tea.
Background:
As the only child of a single mother, Oliver grew up aware of financial insecurity from an early age. He was working odd jobs to help his mother since he was a tween, and got a part-time job early on in high school. When his mother was offered a secure full-time job when he was a junior, she, noticing her son had turned into a workaholic, all but ordered him to find an extracurricular he liked and have fun while he was still in school. That was when he joined the drama club and realised acting was his passion.
In college, he hung out in creative crowds, with people who wrote, who wanted to film, who wanted to produce, who wanted to act, people like himself. They made many short films and played them at events organised by themselves. When he was 22, one of their films was nominated for an award at a mid-sized film festival. Although they didn't win, it gave them all an opportunity to network and grow their opportunities.
It took one bigger name to hire him on for Oliver's name to start carrying weight, and he quickly grew his career from being an extra, to small supporting roles, to landing the lead role in a few films. Nevertheless, Oliver never forgot where he came from: he keeps in touch with the people with whom he started his career, and he makes sure his mother is well taken care of now that he can support her without worries.
One fun fact:
He's been reading more and more romantasy lately. Maybe he wants to experience a cheesy romance story himself...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
If you want to support me, consider visiting my ko-fi page <3
Dedicated to: my mali smiĹĄni @meowyoi mwah mwah happy late Valentine's Day, king <3
Fandom: Ensemble Stars!!
Ship: RinneShu
Word count: 1153
Summary: They should have been keeping their dating a secret, but Rinne just can't help himself sometimes.
Notes: minimally proofread, minimal plot, but they do make out
It's hard to really say what went through Rinne's head when he did what he did. Whether he did it on impulse, or because he just wanted to stir the pot. Were you to ask him, he would tell you that none of it was even his fault, of course, but that they should have known not to interview him on live television. Who "they" is, would be left unsaid. The truth was that he thought only for a moment before getting distracted.
Because Shu was working overtime trying to make everyone believe that he hated Rinne. That he hated Crazy:B, and that he especially despised Rinne Amagi. None of this was hard to believe, as Shu's particularities were well-known, and the idea of him holding no affection for such troublemakers was hardly an impossible concept. Except - it was untrue. And Shu was well aware of the fact that he didn't hate Rinne, but that's how he wanted it to seem. However, he went too far in this attempt, and now the public was convinced that Shu and Rinne had something going on between them.
Not like they were wrong. That's what Rinne was thinking about when the interviewer asked him what the deal was with him and Itsuki. He was thinking about that something that was going on between them. Trying his best to remember that warning Shu had tried to emphasise so many times, but coming up short.
Because all he could remember was Shu's fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer. Until he had to lean his knee on the sofa cushion, right by Shu's side, leaning in as much as Shu pulled him. Their lips meeting, engulfing one another, until he couldn't even think of anything except his make out partner. Rinne's hands wrapped around that annoyingly skinny waist, pinching until his companion all but squeaked. He couldn't help but smile into the kiss, biting Shu's lip just to provoke him further. Just to tease. Only to be met with Shu's fingers giving his hair a quick tug, and feeling the tables turn on him alongside the tongue that caressed his lower lip, begging to join his own. And Rinne allowed it, of course he did. He had no choice, he preferred to believe, but to kiss back with as much fervour, to let Shu's hands pull him in, as if trapping him in the kiss. It took all their strength to pull away as they ran out of air. Rinne leaned his forehead on Shu's, keeping eye contact as if hypnotised by the sight of him. Out of breath, face flushed, spit in the corner of his mouth. Shu looked like a miracle, but Rinne was certain he looked no better; he could feel his heart pounding in his throat, moments away from bursting out.
"You⌠Nobody can know of this," Shu warned, his hands trailing down, from Rinne's hair to his shoulders, lingering over his arms. "You mustn't tell anyone about this."
"Yeah, sure, babe." Rinne wrapped his arms around his waist fully, continuing to pepper kisses all over his face, from the corners of his lips to his nose, cheeks, forehead.
"I'm serious," Shu protested, though he made no attempt to push him away.
"And I'm taking you seriously." The kisses never stopped. And the moment his lungs felt full again, Rinne leaned in for another round. Shu did little to fight it.
But he didn't take him as seriously as he ought to have. What's the deal with you and Valkyrie's Itsuki Shu, the interviewer asked. Rinne was warned by Shu of what to do at that moment, when asked those questions, wasn't he? He was. But it's not his fault.
"The deal?" He asked, chin leaned into his hand, ankle propped up on his knee.
"Itsuki talks about Crazy:B, and you specifically, as if you did something to him personally. Is there some sort of drama going on between you?"
Interviewing Rinne on live television - a mistake made by the company. Giving him instructions right before sucking on his tongue - a mistake made by Shu.
"Nah, he's just a bit of a primadonna. I'm his boyfriend, there's no beef between us. Well, unless ya count the-"
He knew he screwed up. The moment that crude joke, no, the moment the word boyfriend left his mouth, he knew he screwed up. And he knew well what was waiting for him when he got back to the shared dorms.
Indeed, there was the man of the hour, Itsuki himself, sitting cross-legged on the couch as if waiting for him. The door shut closed, and Shu stood up. There was something dragon-like about his appearance, brows furrowed, that gaze full of malice. It would make Rinne meow and purr at him if he had a little less sense in him, but he knew better than to provoke in this moment.
"You said we're dating on live television?!"
"I know it seems bad right now, but, look, it'll be okay, we just-"
"Last week I called you a degenerate parasite of the idol industry, and you let slip that we're DATING?!"
"I know, I know, but it ainât that bad! Wasn't it hard keepin' it under wraps? Now we can just date like a normal couple!"
"Are you out of your mind?! We are in the middle of a scandal right now, did you even check your socials since you went and blew up our reputations?"
"Oh, c'mon, it ain't the end of the world, bro, chill, we'll be fine!"
A pause. "Did you just call me 'bro'?"
"... I'm sorry, honeybun."
Shu sighed, rubbing his temple with his fingers, as if trying to alleviate a migraine. "Just get out of my sight."
"You mad at me?" Rinne pouted
"YES, I'M MAD AT YOU!"
"You're not gonna break up with me, are you? Babe, I'm sorry, I'll never call you 'bro' again, I promise. Rinne-chan loves ya." He spoke in a quiet voice, trying his best to endear himself to his pissed off boyfriend. And Shu's eyebrow twitched as it, unfortunately, worked surprisingly well.
"You had better fix this."
After Rinne had successfully mooched another kiss off him, one he leaned into fully despite how begrudgingly he seemed to give it, Shu left the dorms. Apparently, he had business elsewhere. Though it left Rinne pouty and in a sour mood, given he wanted to hang out more, it did give him a chance to see what Shu meant when he asked him if he'd even seen what was happening on social media.
Not like he had a chance to get far beyond unlocking his phone. With sixteen missed calls from Saegusa, and many more emails flooding his notifications, he knew that his headaches were just beginning.
But it'll be worth it when he finally gets to parade around freely with Shu on his arm.
Fandom: Ensemble Stars!!
Concept: an exploration of Mika's past and his growing inner psychology as presented through the celebrations of his 15th, 16th and 18th birthday (or, during his final year before Yumenosaki, first year in Yumenosaki/pre-War era, and 3rd year in Yumenosaki/!!time as calculated by the person who almost failed maths in years 11 and 12)
Total word count: 5955
Warnings: implied child neglect, exploitation of child labour, restricted eating and not eating at all, canon-compliant cruel pre-War era Shu, angst-focused look at Mika's past
AO3 link (tumblr links below the cut)
Notes and ramblings: I wanted to, for Mika's birthday, write about his past. I talk a lot about the fact that he seems to have been parentified, and it's just intriguing to me - his life before Yumenosaki. We only know that he grew up in a home and that he was "in charge of" taking care of the younger kids, to the point that he'd have felt guilty if he were adopted himself (even though it seems like a part of him still craved acceptance and a family). I just wanted to expand on that <3 And so, this three-parter was born.
"An exploration of Mika's past and his growing inner psychology as presented through the celebrations of his 15th, 16th and 18th birthday", or, in other words, a fic that is supposed to expand on what little we know of Mika's past. That is supposed to showcase more of Mika's psychology, of the various mindsets he has internalised and others he adopted as a way of coping, and further how his mind and psychological state evolved and grew, dare I say, kinda sorta a-little-bit healed with time, in the simplest way:
Part 1 - Forgotten: His 15th birthday, which he himself had forgotten because he was too caught up in work, his mind always preoccupied with the other kids' living conditions to even remember his own birthday. Despite that, the kids love him as a brother, and wanted to show him their appreciation.
Part 2 - Discarded: His 16th birthday, after he was accepted into Yumenosaki and Valkyrie. Although he remembers his birthday this time, he fruitlessly hoped Shu and Nazuna would celebrate it with him. When that falls apart, he hopes Shu merely forgot, wanting to give him the benefit of doubt, wanting to believe Shu would have celebrated with him if he knew - only for Shu to tell him that there are simply more important things to care about than birthdays.
Part 3 - Celebrated: His 18th birthday, celebrated properly, and all that led up to Mika allowing himself be celebrated. The culmination of his personal growth, his coming out of his shell and making honest connections with others.
SHU REQUEST HO!! ily korka i will wait as long as this takes you needn't fret at all <3
Could you write Shu making an outfit for his partner? Maybe there's some miscommunication because Shu wants it to be a surprise, so his partner ends up wondering if something's wrong, and wondering just what Shu's keeping from them... With a cute fluffy ending where it's revealed all he was hiding was a new outfit as a gift for his beloved partner!
Sighs. Shu Itsuki. I'm just a tiny bit in love with him. Thank you for requesting and giving me an excuse to write him :')
Also, @mayoiayasep, I remember you mentioned wanting to be tagged when I was talking ab wanting to write smth with a similar concept to this so <3
Word count: 1603
Summary: After weeks of not hearing from Shu, his partner grows worried that something may be wrong. But, upon finally getting a hold of him (by letting themself into his home), their expectations are flipped on their head as Shu hands them his gift.
Warnings: it's implied Shu hasn't been eating properly </3
Notes: they/them pronouns, a singular use of (y/n), a hint of an angst as result of a misunderstanding, but with a happy, fluffy ending :>
Shu has been avoiding them for a while now. Them, his beloved muse, his significant other. The one he promised his loyalty and love to. Now, it was as if heâd forgotten of their existence. Worse, actually, he has been actively negating their existence by ignoring and avoiding them. And the people around them have noticed, and the people around them started whispering, and then they themselves noticed it, too. How could they not, hearing the other students pitying them so openly. âDid you hear?â they whispered, as if the object of their rumours wasnât standing just a few steps in front of them. âIt seems like Itsukiâs lost interest in them⌠They say itâs only a matter of time before they break up. If Itsuki doesnât just ghost them!â Laughter. Venomous, hurtful laughter. Shu wouldnât do that, they assured themself. He was⌠a lot of things, but he wasnât the type to just ghost someone. They were sure he simply got engrossed in his work once more. They shook their head to free themself of the negative thoughts, deciding to visit Shu in the coming week. Theyâd bring him some food, check in on him. Hopefully, get the answer as to why heâs been avoiding them. Itâs been long enough, and theyâve found themself sick of all the rumours that flew around them.
And so they stood, about three days later - three days of unanswered texts and missed calls later - by the front door of Shu's home. A bag hanging from the grove of their elbow, croissants fresh from that bakery they remembered Shu praising once in it, they knocked on the door. Only to receive no response. They shifted their weight from one foot to the other, gritting their teeth together. Truth be told, they were becoming quite frustrated with his behaviour. Nothing was wrong that they could tell, in fact, their relationship was only becoming stronger in the days preceding his disappearance. And then suddenly⌠he just goes radio-silent. They were worried, yes, but they wouldn't deny that they had feelings, too, and regardless of what Shu was going through, he was their boyfriend. Didn't they at least deserve an excuse? An explanation?
Theyâve rung the bell twice by now. They called him once more - voicemail. They even called Mika at one point, who was about as helpful as Shu himself, only hanging up with sorries and, worst of all, telling them to just go home. That Shu was fine. But, being Shu's partner for as long as they were, they had a spare key. They didn't want to use it, knowing it was only given to them for emergencies, but for all they knew Shu was lying passed out on the floor and it might have been an emergency. They were worried, after all, even more so when that particular thought ran through their head.
"Shu! I've let myself in!" they said upon unlocking the door. Looking around, the home didn't seem to be in a disarray - that much. There was some settled dust on the shelves, and stale bread left out on the counter. No dishes in the sink. Either he was at least making sure he had something to eat off of, or heâs been neglecting to eat again. The dining room table was covered in papers, on which some seemingly unfinished sketches were hastily drawn. It looked like he was making something again, which made his partner breathe out in relief. Relief at knowing he was, after all, just engrossed in his work again. Relief that was soon replaced with an even stronger worry. They were thankful they came to check in on him, he was probably overworking himself if he hadnât even the energy to answer their calls.
So, they went straight to his workroom. They knocked on it, still keeping their manners. âI know youâre in there, I can hear your machine,â they said upon getting no response. âCome on, itâs me! Iâm giving you two minutes, and then Iâm coming in.â
âNon!â The first word theyâve heard from him in weeks. In what felt like years. His voice was hoarse, as if he hadnât even spoken at all in those weeks. âDonât come in yet! Give me ten- twenty more minutes and Iâll come out.â
âShu, Iâm worried about you!â
âFifteen more minutes! Just wait in the-â a whispered curse, â... in the kitchen!â
And what else could they do? Theyâve waited this much, fifteen more minutes wonât kill them. And if Shu collapses, well, theyâll at least hear it and be able to help. So, to pass the time faster, they tidied up the papers from the table, placing them all on one stack in the corner. And sneaking a peek at a few of them. It looked like a full outfit this time, quite the attractive one, too. They left the bag of croissants on the table, and proceeded to wait the remaining time. Soon enough, Shu stumbled out of the room, as if in a daze. The dark bags under his eyes told the entire story.
âWhat date is it?â He asked.
They took a glance at him, looking him over. His fingers were sloppily bandaged. âYouâve hurt yourself. Come on, Iâll properly bandage that for you.â He dodged their attempt at taking hold of his hand.
âThe date. What date is it, (y/n)?â Upon getting an answer (and a worried look from his partner who now knew just how badly he was out of it), he nodded. âPerfect. Perfect timing. Actually, scratch that. You were too early. Work on that.â He was rambling.
âWork on what? Never mind. Sit down, whenâs the last time you slept?â
âUnimportant. Come with me.â
âNo. Iâve been so worried! At least eat first and-â
âWith me, now.â
He grabbed their wrist, pulling them over to the workroom. Truthfully, he wasnât very strong, but theyâve decided to humour him just a little more. The sooner they comply, the sooner they can shove carbohydrates down his throat and forcefully tuck him in.
âFine, fine, stop pulling!â
Immediately upon entering the workroom, he laid a bunch of cloth in their arms. A full outfit. Was this what he was working on? âGo put this on. I will turn around, rest assured.â
âThatâs not the problem⌠Surely, playing dress-up can wait until after you eat something?â
âItâs not playing, darling, itâs a fitting. Go on. Call for me if you need my help.â
A few minutes later, they were both situated in the dimly lit workroom, standing in front of a wall-length mirror that, frankly, could have been cleaner. âStand up straight,â Shu mumbled, patting down their waist and pulling on the cloth here and there to straighten it out. âGive me your hand.â He took hold of the sleeves, folding them inwards a few times, shaking his head, and unfolding them again. The sleeves were a perfect length. He walked a circle around them, his piercing gaze boring holes into every part and detail of their body. But it seemed like everything was just right, and not even he, ever the perfectionist, had any complaints. Once more, he stood behind them, this time kneeling to check the hems. Once more - âPerfect. Exactly as I envisioned it.â And he finally sighed out.Â
Shu stood up, patting down their shoulders for one last time. He let his hands trail down their arms, and back up, before he gently took hold of their shoulders. And they caught his eyes in the mirror. He held their gaze. âI told you to stand up straight. Youâre wearing the Itsuki Shuâs work. Wear it proudly.â They took a moment to properly take those words in. They were wearing an outfit made especially for them by Shu. They marvelled at their reflection for a moment. The outfit truly looked perfect, not to mention it was tailored exactly to their tastes. Shu must have been quite the listener, even if he acted uninterested so often, there was not a single detail that wasnât precisely to their tastes. From the silhouette to the colours, nothing was less than perfect. And as they stood there in awe, Shuâs hands started travelling once more. Down their back, and around their waist, he wrapped them into a hug, one rather uncharacteristic. He must have truly been tired. He buried his face into the crook of their neck, as if hiding, before whispering into their skin, âIâm taking you out for dinner⌠Tomorrow. Make sure you wear this.â
âTomorrow? Did you make this for-â
âOur anniversary, yes. Iâm⌠not proud of the fact that I made you worry. I can assure you I will try my best that it doesnât happen again. But I wonât apologise for wanting to keep your gift a surprise.â
âFine. Thank you.â They placed their hands on top of Shuâs, who was still keeping his wrapped around their waist. Well, right up until that moment. He retracted his hands the moment theirs touched him, as if he was burnt by the contact.
âThe⌠The clothes will get creased.â He came up with an excuse quickly, but the words did little to hide his reddening face. He coughed, stepping back and putting some distance between them.Â
âYou mentioned you brought food, is that right? I could eat⌠As long as you agree to keep me company.â
âOf course. Come on, I bought your favourites.â
âThank youâŚâ And though he merely mumbled it, too proud to say out loud, they heard it anyway: the smallest of apologies for having worried them.
thank you for enabling me korka ily. your writing is amazing <3
idea number one! numero uno! silly little Mika fluff!!
How about Mika realizing he has a crush on someone; and his idea of a confession is to make them a plushie! But Arashi tells him he needs a little more flare than that to make his feelings clear.
So, perhaps some cute little Mika shenanigans, trying to plan the 'perfect' confession and make the best plushie for his potential partner~?
I told you this was the first fic I'm gonna write in the new city, and I think I kept my promise. I thought about scheduling this for your bday, but~ Instead of a late request, consider this an early bday gift <3 and I hope I'll get your second request finished in time, but I can't make any promises
Title: Operation: Score Mika a Date
Word count: 3576
Summary: Arashi does her best to make Mika finally, finally confess to his crush. But when nothing she suggests works, maybe it's best to trust Mika do to it his way...
Notes: Less of a focus on the "making the best plushie" part, but I hope I made up with it with the shenanigans. Arashi turned out to be a major character lol and Mika and Naru being besties <3
âNa~ru-cha~n!â Cries reverberated throughout the common room. Mika, the originator of said cries, laid draped across the aforementioned Naru-chanâs lap, whining all the while. "I dunno what to do!" he drawled out, groaning into her thighs.
And Arashi, who tried her best to comfort him by petting his hair, sighed. "Well, they seem to like you, don't they? You're always telling me about how they give you compliments and like talking to you, right?" Of course, the âtheyâ she was talking about was Mikaâs crush. The person heâs been going on and on about for ages. He was absolutely in love, and it was obvious from how he alternated between crying and giggling about them every day. Today â it was crying.
"But what if I'm misunderstandin'? What if they don't like me like that? UuwhâŚâ he cradled his head in his hands. âIt makes my head hurtâŚ"
"You'll never know if you don't just tell them how you feel."
"But what if⌠How do I even do that? I can't just tell 'em - I l-love yaâŚ"
"Oh, Mika-chanâŚ" Arashi truly didn't know what to do about him anymore. "Just speak from your heart!"
Mika paused, pondering it for a moment. He seemed to really give it some thought, his brows furrowing as Arashi continued twisting his hair around her fingers. Ultimately, however - "That ain't helpful at all!"
This has become their routine by now. Mika, the silly guy, managed to fall in love. No, rather, he tripped into love. Faceplanted straight into it before he was even aware of what had happened. Arashi was thrilled to find this out; she always aspired to live out a teen drama and if there was one thing missing from her checklist, it was helping her best friend woo their crush. Now her best friend, Mika, has finally fallen in love, and she, as knowledgeable as she is about matters of the heart, can help him! But Mika was not very open to her ideas. Every "Confess to them!" was met with "What if they reject me?", every "They were flirting!" with "They were just bein' polite" and every "Just ask if you can kiss them" with "Are ya crazy?! They'll start hatin' me!" It was as if he was working directly against her and himself, rejecting every idea in its conception, not even entertaining the idea of a happy ending. Yet, Arashi never gave up.
Like many best friends, they frequently had sleepovers together. When HiMERU and Tetora had work or other plans, Arashi would often invite Mika to sleep over in her dorm, and Mika would do the same whenever Ritsu was gone for the night. The beds were big enough, and they were close enough to share them without any awkwardness - not to mention that it was fun. And this time, too, Mika was sitting criss-cross on Arashi's bed, who was sitting on her legs next to him, peering at his phone while eating cucumber slices. "So, youâll confess to them in person, right?" she inquired. âHow are you going to ask them to meet up?â
"I sent âem, ⌠um, hey - are ya free this weekend?"
"Oh, sweetie, that makes you sound too shy. Just ask if they want to hang out this weekend."
"Ain't that too direct?"
"Everybody likes direct men. You have to show youâre confident! You know what you want and youâre not afraid to ask for it!"
Mika flinched. "Read!" he exclaimed. "They left me on read! N'aghâŚ!! This is too stressful!" He hugged the pillow in his lap, burying his face into it. "Bein' in love sucks for real!"
"Alright, alright, it's not the end of the world, maybe they're busy! Put the phone down, come on, I'll do your nails." He hesitated letting go of his phone, hoping heâll see them typing any second now, but ultimately doing as he was told. He watched Arashi grab her kit before setting his hands on a magazine. To be used as a pad; to avoid getting product on the bed sheets. It was a magazine targeted towards girls, one of Arashiâs older ones. A few seconds passed in silence, but, as she started prepping his nails for the new paintjob, she began speaking, "Talk to me, Mika-chan. How are you planning on confessing, anyway?"
"âM not. I mean, I am, but I ainât got a plan. I was just gonna wing it."
"Wing it?! Oh, dear⌠Well, fine, think about it now. What do you think you could do? Iâm sooo curious, and you never talk with me about your plans on seducing them."
"Se-seducinâ?" His face burnt red. "I dunno⌠They mentioned they liked the plushies I made once. Maybe I can make 'em a plushie andâŚ"
"I'm sure that'd be cute, but for a confession," she tsked, "you'd need a bit more pizazz!"
He tilted his head, not unlike a confused puppy.
"Pizazz! Flair! Everybody loves a grand gesture of love. Hmm, actually-" She set her tools down, raising his hands and grabbing the magazine that was under them. As she showed its cover to Mika, she beamed, "Look! Read what's written here!"
"Um⌠I dun think knowin' trends from four years ago will impress 'em."
A groan. "No, silly, here." She pressed her finger against a box of text in the corner. "The 10 best ways to confess to your crush! You can even do their 'Do they like you back?' quiz if youâre so worried!"
When Mika's nails were painted and dried, he helped Arashi dye her hair. Rather, he was dying her hair while she read him out the questions in the magazineâs quiz, marking all his answers to count up later. "Do they go out of their way to talk to you? A: they only talk to me when they have to, B: no, they tend to avoid me, C: sometimes, but they stick to small talk, or D: yes, they talk to me about almost every topic there is."
He huffed. "Well, I guess D�"
"Alright⌠Do they find excuses to touch you while talking to you?"
"N'ah⌠I dunno. They touch my arm when I make 'em laugh and⌠Sometimes they bump their knee against mine when we sit next'ta each other?"
"That's a yes!" As she tallied up his answers, he was finishing up with her undercut. Absentmindedly playing with her hair as his thoughts trailed off.
Mika knew he had to confess to them someday. Being around them started becoming painful recently (he's been pining for some months, and being friends with your crush can sometimes be a curse as much as a blessing), and he felt guilty over how much his heart hurt every time they made plans with somebody else instead of with him. They've become friends and, he was certain because of how much of a catch they are, it was only a matter of time before they end up telling him about a significant other. His heart would break. He had to confess, otherwise he was always going to wonder. Especially if they start dating someone else, especially if it turns serious. He can pretend to be happy for them, butâŚ
"Great news, Mika-chan! Listen, it says: Sparks are flying! You are your crush's crush! If they not only like being around you, but also initiate conversation often, if they hold eye contact and smile easily at you, if they can't help laughing at your every joke (no matter how bad) and touching your shoulder when you talk - they like-like you! Confessing is not only safe, but highly encouraged. A romance is already blooming between you, and you need to make sure you lock it in." She closed the magazine, leaving it on the desk and spinning around in her chair to meet Mika's wide-eyed stare. "See? Just as I told you! They li~ke you, Mika-chan, you have to tell them how you feel! As your best friend," she placed a hand over her heart, as if swearing, "it is my duty to make sure you two end up on at least one successful date."
He bit his lip. Truthfully, he felt like crying, both out of happiness, but also out of anxiety. He was afraid to raise his expectations, but if Arashi was that confident⌠"Alright. What's it say 'bout those ways of confessin'?"
"That's my bestie!! So-" she grabbed the magazine again, jumping from the chair to the bed again. But a ping interrupted them. Mika's phone. He immediately grabbed it, checking the new notification. Arashi looked at him worriedly as he started trembling, but his huge smile quickly made those worries dissipate.
"They replied!" he all but squealed.
"They replied?!"
"They replied!!"
It was easier to convince Mika to go with the magazine's advice when Arashi had managed to convince him he had a chance. Usually, he would stay away from grand gestures - he was shy himself and didn't like the pressure of it all - but the seductive sparkle of the possibility of a date with his crush was too tempting to turn down. And so, method one: asking them out directly. Per Arashi's instructions, Mika was to talk to his crush, and ask them if they wanted to get coffee with him after work. Something casual enough, but obvious as a date. Unfortunately for Mika, his crush responded with, "Oh, cool! Should we invite the others, too?" ⌠Arashi bought him ice cream and promised they were just a little oblivious. It can't be helped, since he was too chicken to say, "As a date".
Method two: leaving them a note. They both decided that would be a good next step. He can write out a proper confession, and not worry about stuttering or chickening out. All he has to do is write out his thoughts, leave the note somewhere where they'd see it, and then wait for them to bring it up. Mika poured his soul into that note, he didn't even want Arashi to give him advice on it - he wanted it to be all his own words. He mentioned how long he's liked them and how shy he feels around them, the excuse for why he's writing a note. How he really wants to take them out on a date. How he just wants that single chance, one date! But that he'll respect their wishes if they don't feel the same way, not even enough to give it a shot. He ends it all with a scribble of a flower. But in the adrenaline rush of "Oh, shit, I'm actually doing this, I'm actually leaving my heart out in the open," signing the note escaped his mind entirely. He just slipped it into their pocket when they weren't looking, and ran off.
"You're never gonna believe it, Mika!" they laughed, fishing for something in their pocket. "Look! I have a secret admirer~!" They waved the note in front of his face. His note. Did they recognise his handwriting? Were they making fun of him? He blushed, the very tips of his ears burning up, ready to deny and defend himself, but they spoke first. "What, are you jealous? Come on, you're an idol, I know you get love letters all the time, too, let me have this. You're no fun!" They joked.
"O-oh, you dunno who it's from?" His heart was about to explode, he could feel it beating in his throat.
"How could I? There's no signature. Whoever it is uses a really cute dialect, though."
"Cute?" There it was. They were making fun of him.
"Yeah, I think it's very attractive, actually. Well, I hope this person will actually ask me if I got their note, I'm dying of curiosity."
"... Y'think it's attractiveâŚ" Mika has stopped listening. And functioning.
"Hey? Mika? Do I need to take you to the infirmary? You're looking a bit feverish."
"N'gah!" He got startled, hand clasping over his chest. "No, no, âm fine, I just suddenly remembered I have some, uh, work to do. See ya later!" It was a step closer, but he was still unhappy with the result. At least he could be comforted knowing they thought his dialect was cute. Attractive, even.
Method three: spreading a rumour. This one sounded counterproductive to Mika, but Arashi found merit in it. She was going to be the gossip, to "wing woman" him, as she put it.
"Hey, did you hear," she whispered to whoever would listen, "that Kagehira has a crush on (y/n). He's head over heels in love. Do you think he has a chance?" All Mika had to do was gauge his crush's reaction to hearing the rumour, and decide whether it's a good enough reaction to mention that the rumour is true. It travelled across town fairly quickly (and Mika was scolded by Ibara over it, as it escaped the confinement of ES, but those were the sacrifices they had to make) and soon enoughâŚ
"I heard a weird rumour, Mika - you'll laugh, I promise - people are saying you have a crush on me." They laughed, but he had trouble discerning whether they were laughing at the absurdity, or out of their own shyness.
"Yeah, thatâs⌠weird. And what do you think about it?" He stuffed a candy in his mouth the moment the sentence dripped off his tongue. Where did he get the courage for such direct questions?
"I don't know. We're friends, aren't we? People often confuse close friends' behaviour with that of lovers. Maybe they thought you were into me because we always hang out alone. Like now!"
"Right. That is funny." He never laughed in a more forced way. They'd already changed the subject, and he was left with no information on how to proceed.
"Mika-chan, I'll be honest," Arashi was lying on her stomach on Mika's bed, leafing through a fashion magazine. "I think we're running out of methods."
Mika was sitting on the floor, back to his bed's frame, head leaned into his palms. "I know."
"You're going to have to ask them out directly. I mean more directly than last time. Youâre going to have to tell them you want to take them on a date, in those words exactly."
"... I know. It's just!" He groaned, hitting the floor with a hand and leaning his head on the mattress. "This sucks, this sucks so bad! Whyâs it so hard?! I'm always tellin' ya how I feel 'bout them, I can write it all out, I can talk to anyone else 'bout it, but in front of 'em, I just⌠I freeze up, like an idiot! Like a stupid, worthless coward! I hate it so much!" He sniffled, quickly wiping his eyes before the tears could fall. "It ain't fair at all! And nothin' I do is workin'... Naru-chan, I think they just don't like me and're pretendin' they don't get it. I'm probably embarrassin' myself badly 'n they're just too nice to say anythin'."
"That's not true!" She flipped closed the magazine, shifting into a sitting position. "You're not an idiot or a coward! I don't want you to talk like that about yourself."
"I am⌠I'm so stupid to think they'd even like me back." He hid his face in his hands. His shoulders were trembling, and Arashi felt bad. She felt guilty, as if her pushing him was to blame.
"Are you crying...?"
"... No."
"Mika-chan, you're my best friend. I know when you're crying. Do you want a hug?"
He just sobbed into his hands and nodded. And she got down, kneeled beside him, and hugged him close to her chest.
He cried into her shoulder for a minute or two. Shaking and sniffling, squeezing her for comfort. When his sobs died down, she took the chance to speak up, "Hey, Mika-chan, I had an idea."
"Please, no more ideas⌠It ain't gonna work, nothinâ will."
"No, hear me out. Please? You don't have to do it, just think about it." When she was met with silence, she decided to continue speaking. "Remember what you told me when we started Operation: Score Mika a Date? About the plushies? I was thinkingâŚ"
It took weeks of hard work. A big chunk of his savings for the materials, too. And a lot of patience. But it was finished. He'd already called his crush and asked them to meet up in their usual hangout spot, one that he knew wasn't going to be crowded. And he arrived early, enough that he can take a moment to calm down and steel his nerves. Even Arashi came with him, hoping to give him a last-minute pep talk.
"You have it with you?" She asked rubbing his shoulder.
"I do, 's here."
"You got this, okay? If they reject you, just nod and say-"
"'S okay, I hope we can still be friends - I know."
"And don't be pushy."
"Mhm."
"Oh, I think I see them⌠I'll be a bit further away if you'll need me. Text me how it goes, okay?"
"Y-yeah."
Arashi left, and a few minutes later, his crush stood in front of him.
"Hey! You said you wanted to see me because you had something to tell me? It's not something bad, I hope?"
He stood silently. Gulped. He was holding his gift behind his back, and he could feel his palms getting sweatier. It was now or never. "(Y/n)-chan," he didn't stutter yet, "I wanted to give ya somethin'. You said ya liked my plushies, soâŚ" He slowly brought his hand in front of him. He was holding a classical teddy bear, with dark green fur and mismatched yellow-blue button eyes. Though the craftsmanship was definitely a bit unprofessional, the amount of care and love that went into it was truly visible. The bear was holding a heart, sewn into its paws, with embroidered lettering. Shaky, but obviously something that was worked very hard on. A simple message on it: I love ya.
Mika's hands were shaking as he outstretched them, offering them the plush bear. "Ac-accept it, please." And he bit his tongue for that stutter. "And⌠Accept my feelings⌠(Y/n)-chan, I wanna be yer boyfriend." Did he sound confident enough? He hoped he did. He was certain he didn't look confident, what with the blushing and the avoiding eye contact, but he said it loudly, clearly⌠"Dâya wanna go out with me?" He really couldnât look them in the eye, instead he stared down, fiddling with his sleeves, while waiting for the answer. Seconds felt like hours. He looked up timidly, curious on why they were silent. He was afraid they were creeped out. But they were⌠staring at the teddy bear.
"It's really cute. I love it⌠Thank you, Mika!" They smiled at him. His heart skipped a beat and his knees nearly buckled. He didn't want to press them for an answer to his confession, but he couldn't deny that not even that praise was enough to distract him. He just wanted to hear an answer.
"And⌠So, will ya�"
"The rumour was true, then?" They smirked at him. Mika was truly going to die if they kept looking at him like that. But he nodded. All his cards were now thrown face-up on the table.
"The note⌠The note, too. Tha' was meâŚ"
"I knew it," they laughed. "It was so hard trying to give you hints to just ask me out already. But it was cute watching you struggle."
"N'ah? Ya wanted me toâŚ? Is that a yes? You'll go out with me?" His vision was getting blurry, and if his legs don't actually give out, he'll consider it a miracle. Mika was barely breathing, his heart beating out of his chest from the excitement. And his eyes just sparkled as he leaned in closer to them, eager and excited. If he had a tail, itâd certainly be wagging.
"Of course I will! Let's make this our date, then. Where do you want to go?"
When he arrived home that day, he was running on autopilot. He texted his crush, no, his significant other (he's getting giddy just thinking about it!) he had fun today. He asked them if they want to go on another date sometime soon. He took a shower, changed into his pyjamas, and he just⌠lied in his bed, staring at the ceiling. Before flipping over and screaming into his pillow. Memories of their first date still fresh in his mind. They walked holding hands, they shared cotton candy⌠When they were sitting on a bench, they even leaned their head on his shoulder. They did all the things couples do on dates⌠They were a couple now! He held the pillow closer. When the sun set, he walked them home and they⌠He kissed them.
Mika was still high off the excitement of that day. He wasn't going to get any sleep that night, but he's happy. He's as happy as he was when he was accepted into Yumenosaki, when Shu allowed him to become a part of Valkyrie. He just wanted to call them, to hear their voice again, but instead he called Arashi. He wasn't going to bother them so late in the evening, and Arashi was dying to hear the details, anyway. One thing is certain, however: Mika cannot wait for their next date.
You know how Mika has a very high pain tolerance? How it's mentioned in reminisce of marionette when arashi finds him sawing and he pricks himself with the needle and even bleed and he's like "no it's fine I actually don't feel it much" what if one day he just... Decided to experiment with it for a bit? See until what point it is too much for him to handle? It starts with little cuts, but as he does it more his body gets used to it and he needs more and more to feel it (and he likes to feel it... It becomes addictive... It inspires him for his art even) until he's taking chunks out of himself, not even due to the pain of the cut itself but how much the medicine stings when he has to treat it again
I won't lie to you. Between Mika having a very high pain tolerance and all the lines where he's just casually dropping the fact that he's a masochist, I have had the same thoughtâŚ
PLEASE read the note and warnings carefully before reading below the readmore.
Word count: 1037
Summary: Mika is incapable of feeling loved unless he feels pain. Mika craves to be loved, so much that he inflicts pain on himself every day, hoping it would help. But it's so easy to get used to a sensation you feel every day, so easy to want to escalate...
Warnings: self-harm and self-mutilation for masochistic reasons, using a sewing needle and a boxcutter, description of gore (hypothetical, regarding Mika's art). Please, please do NOT read ahead if that sort of topic makes you uncomfortable. Curate your own experience, I am not responsible for anything that happens after you click "read more". If there is anything that needs specific warnings, that I haven't added, let me know.
Note: I don't wanna make this seem deeper than it is, but, while editing, I got to thinking ab Mika as a character and. Ended up assigning him a fucked up idea of love. Something about him growing up feeling unloved and unwanted, combined with lines like "I want to be touched even if it's so hard that it hurts", his hatred for (his) humanity, and so on. And it made me wonder a bit about Mika as someone who (wrongly) considers love to be painful, who is so desperate to feel wanted and loved that he'd twist being rejected, having pain inflicted on him as a sort of love. Who'd want to feel any sensation given to him, just because it's a sensation given to him. And even that sort of Mika having to give himself those sensations, making him even more desperate, making him feel even more unloveable. I ended up straying a bit from your prompt because of that, and made him think a lot about love, and not just the exploration of pain, but. Well. It was interesting to explore, I think. There's something awfully tragic about characters who would seek out even abuse because they crave "affection" too much. Maybe I could write a better character study for this topic one day... I hope the desperation for love and a sort of touch-starvation comes across well enough, considering this was barely even proofread.
Mika had always been fascinated with pain. He doesn't know how it started, really, but for as long as he'd known himself, he'd been enamoured with the sensation. Pricking his skin with sewing needles, shallowly, carefully, just enough to pierce skin, to draw blood. The pain that made him hiss, that made him breathe out in pain as much as pleasure. The blood droplet that sprung from the wound, sparkling like a ruby, before he would pinch the skin around it, forcing it to burst, to trickle in a rivulet down his skin. He would watch it spill, curve and dribble with a fascination, his pupils blown wide and a pleased smile etched into his face. It was a relaxing hobby for him, a way to pass the time. A way to feel something.
Yet, like with all sensations one does on the daily, one evening he realised that he didn't feel a thing from it anymore. The prick gave neither pleasure nor pain anymore, instead just a dull throbbing in his finger, leaving him on the edge. The droplet seemed small, the blood - unimpressive. What happened? He watched the droplet grow until it burst on its own, flowing down his finger. The same view he'd cooed and panted over so many times before - now dull. Boring. So uninterestingly everyday. He popped his finger into his mouth, licking up the blood from the base to the tip as he wondered what to do. What to do? It was such a beloved pastime of his, he didn't want to end it. But what could he do? Before he knew it, he was addicted to the mixing, melting of pain into pleasure, of the way his own blood glistened in the dim light of his room, illuminated only by the weak, old lamp on his desk. He didn't want to stop now. Mika couldn't stop now.
His gaze fell on the boxcutter sitting on his desk, the one he used to open a package just the day before. Now beckoning him so seductively. The gears in his head whirring as he finally released his finger, wiping the saliva on his shirt.
With shaky hands, he took hold of the boxcutter, pushing the blade from the safety of the plastic guard. He spent a minute just looking at it, adrenaline already picking up, gulping as he wondered whether he should. But then he remembered how good just a needle felt, and he has to - he just has to try it! Just a little cut, just to feel something! He turns over his hand, revealing his palm. The hands rough and calloused from work, always used for such noble tasks, now driven to do something as horrible as this. There was a part of him that was aware of that - naturally. A part of him that understood that he was not exactly normal for deriving pleasure from such acts. That he was somewhat weird for getting excited whenever he would see his own blood. But he couldn't help it.
He is so⌠starved for feeling. For feeling anything, even if it was pain. He wants to be held, touched, embraced, too. Heâs, as much as he hates admitting, human, too. He wants to be shown affection. But Mika did not grow up well. He knows he's wrong to equate love with pain, but he knows nothing else. Even if it hurts, he just wants to feel. And he has to settle for doing even that to himself. Heâs a lost cause, he knows that. Unloveable, a freak with creepy eyes, worthless. Oh, how he wishes he didnât have those feelings, that need to be loved. He would be so much happier as a doll with no thoughts or will of its own, after all.
Mika glided the blade over the lines on his palm that would talk of his fortune, not cutting yet, just tickling himself. He'd heard it mentioned that this was where it hurts the most. Tingles ran down his spine. It's fine, because the gloves he wears when performing cover his palms, anyway. Nobody will know of his weird habits, of his freakish tendencies. Of how he needs pain to feel loved.
With a gasp and a yelp, he pressed the blade into his palm, dragging it across until he's left with a clean, albeit shallow cut. Just enough to draw blood, it's always just enough to draw blood. It's how he justified it to himself. Mika had to squeeze his eyes shut, panting and groaning in pain, his forehead smacking against the desk as he squirmed. It hurt so bad. It hurt so good. He left the boxcutter to the side, turning to lean his cheek against the desk, raising his hand above his head. It was so much more blood. Thick droplets gathering all along the cut, gravity pulling them down until they coursed down his hand, his wrist, dripping onto his face.
In a moment of giddy exhilaration, he brought his hand to his mouth, licking the wound clean. Moaning into his skin as the taste of iron made his head spin. Following that, he used a finger to spread the skin, to force more blood out. And he gasped.
"Memo, where's my memo padâŚ" he mumbled to himself, digging through his messy desk drawers with his clean hand. He was inspired. In bullet points, he wrote down his ideas, biting the pen's cap while considering the concept, unconsciously flexing the hand that was cut, revelling in the sharp stinging. A vertical cut along the stomach, hands forcing the skin apart until a gaping wound is left, revealing organs. It was such a good concept, he almost couldnât wait to get cleaned up so he could start working on it. Oh, what a wonderful hobby he had, one that gave him as much pleasure as it gave him pain, and as much inspiration for his art as he would have ever wanted. He wiped his hand across his face, greatly enjoying inhaling the metallic scent, before leaving the room.
After all, the only thing that felt better than making himself bleed, was cleaning the wound up with the sting of rubbing alcohol. Maybe he could even sew this one up with some pretty green thread. And maybe one day heâll find that special someone whoâd hold his hand and carve beautiful flowers into his skin, who would show him love in the only way he can understand.
you know how some serial killers have calling cards? mika as a serial killer but his calling card is to take the heart of his victims âĄ
Serial killer Mika!! My beloved fr. I love that idea, but also I had to look up anatomy pics for this and ?? Why did I think a liver was like. Much lower and much smaller lmao
Word count: 1517
Summary: Mika has a bit of an unorthodox hobby - he's really found himself in the art of murder. And he always makes sure to take a souvenir with him after each kill <3
Warnings: gore, mucking about inner organs, death
Note: I have no idea what I did to his motivation tbh. You know that part of Human Comedy where he goes off on why humans suck? I just remembered that and went "aye, let's go"
A starless night, dark and cold. Mika clutched his bag closer to himself, seeking the warmth he couldnât get from his light blazer. He forgot to dress up warmly today, not expecting the sudden drop in the temperature. Already dozing off, he barely kept himself on his feet in the train, leaning onto the pole with all his weight. There was still a few more stops until he could get off, he wouldnât be harmed by closing his eyes, just resting them for a minute. The train was empty, anyway. Just him and one older man who was fast asleep on one of the seats. But as he let his guard down, Arashiâs warning from earlier that day echoed in his mind. âBe careful on your way home, today, Mika-chan!â sheâd said. He knows why she told him that, and why there was no need for him to be careful, but heâd feel bad ignoring her advice.
There was a bit of a problem in the city. The news only ever talked about it, everyone seemed to be in a panic, people were spreading truth mixed with lies. Even a mythology of it was born. There was a serial killer on the loose, to keep it short. Nobody knew who they were targeting, why, who they even were and if they worked alone or not. The only thing that was known was that people have been turning up dead. And the theory of a serial killer was brought up when, after a few autopsies, a chilling pattern was noticed. All of them were missing their heart. Or, rather, although they were found dressed, stripping the bodies revealed a sloppily stitched up chest. And taking out the thread - an empty spot where the heart was supposed to be. The killerâs sign, their calling card. It couldnât have been anything other than a sick person, to be able to not only murder someone violently (all the victims showed signs of struggle, strangulation marks, shallow cuts, and bruises. The cause of death was almost always blunt force), but to then cut them open, steal the heart and sew them back up, putting their clothes on and leaving them on the street. It was a wonder how the killer was never caught, considering the bodies were always out in the open. And what on Earth were they doing with the hearts, anyway?
Well, thatâs why Arashi wanted Mika to be safe. He was so thankful to have friends who worry and fuss over him, but she was worried for nothing, really. He couldnât tell her that, but he knows nothing will happen to him. And he sees how fearful she is whenever she has to return home alone, too. He notices how scared she gets whenever the topic is brought up. Mika wishes he could tell her not to worry, nothing will happen to her. But he canât. As much as he trusts her, he just canât tell her why heâs so certain no harm will befall the two of them.
âHah~,â Mika breathed out. Sat on his knees on the hardwood floor, he wiped the sweat off his forehead with his forearm, careful not to touch his face when his hands were so filthy. They always struggled. And he was never able to land a clean cut because of that - not only could he not see in the dark, but then they keep fighting him off⌠As if it would save them. Taking a moment to catch his breath, he fished the little pincushion from his pocket, laying the vibrant red thread and needle on the floor between him and the body. Another person who struggled, another person who will be found with a bruised neck and broken bones. Heâs thankful he had the dresser to bang their head against - he was already so tired, he felt like he might have been overpowered this time. That would have been a tragedy.
It didnât take much effort to strip the shirt off a corpse, and it took even less effort to drive his knife into their chest - right above the sternum and between their clavicles. It took a bit more effort to wedge the knife down, to tear through their skin and flesh, down to their stomach, however. The stench of blood mixed with the horrid stink of death, permeating the air. But all it did was make Mika breathe in deeper. Heâd always liked the scent. He wiggled the knife a bit, trying to pull it free from the body. It gets stuck sometimes, thatâs just how it is, so he had to be forceful. With an âoomphâ, he finally freed the knife, setting it down beside him. He had no qualms digging in, either, shoving his gloved hands into the gaping wound, spreading it further open so he can reach in more freely. Though it was always difficult to reach the heart without taking anything else or breaking the ribs, Mika thought he was getting better. Wiggling his hand below the ribs, past the stomach and the liver, until he could grip the heart. His other hand was leaned on the corpseâs shoulder, to keep himself from falling as he leaned over them, blindly digging around their organs. When he felt the heart unbeating in his hand, he made sure to squeeze it just enough to hold it safely in his hand, not enough to break it, as he tugged. It took one, two, three strong pulls to separate it from the rest of the body, a disgusting sort of squelching sound resulting from his efforts.
And when he held it in his hand, this proof of life, this proof of his taking of a life, he felt an immense exhilaration in his own heart. He felt powerful, in control. This was all it was to him. All those people acting smart, trying to guess his motives - there were no motives. He just did it because he wanted to, because he could. Because it made him feel good to exert his power over others in this way. All of those people asking why he was doing it, if he was antisocial or if he had a personal vendetta against these people. He didnât. He just hated humans, so much. Mika knows all of the people heâs killed have done horrible things, because theyâre humans and thatâs what humans do. So, is he really in the wrong? There is no such thing as innocence in this world, so why does it matter if he takes a few lives? When others are making lives worse, his acts of killing may as well be a mercy.
The sewing, however, was still crude. He cuts too deep, and so his mere thread can never sew them up as well as he would like to. Mika threaded the needle, trying his best to make it look tidy this time. He was improving, he thought. It might take a few more tries to perfect, but there was definitely an improvement compared to his first times. He managed to actually close up the hole this time, tying it off neatly and biting the leftover thread off, giving it a clean finish. At least, in his opinion. He always got angry when watching all those hotshots on TV calling his sewing âsloppyâ â heâd love to see what theyâd manage with nothing but a needle and a thread. The body was clothed once more, and he waited by the entrance to this now resident-less home, peering from behind the curtain for his chance. Although it was already nearing two in the morning, stray cars passed by, some folks returning from an outing here and there. He had to make sure nobody sees him, after all, or else his fun would be cut short.
And when he finally did leave the body in the street, he returned back to the train station, waiting for the late train, as if nothing had happened. The âsouvenirâ he took wrapped in his blazer, which was stuffed in his bag alongside his ruined gloves. To be safe, he remembered to wash his face and forearms in the bathroom at the station. His shoes were still bloodied, but he can pass it off as mud if anyone questions him, or even just say he got a nosebleed he didnât notice. Mikaâs hand gripped the bag closer to him, unconsciously patting at the section where his blazer was placed. And all those folks wondering why he took the hearts and only the hearts⌠What did it matter? It was for him. For his collection, to be placed in a jar and kept. To inspire his art.
And once more, the news will talk about a brutal murder. Once more, heâll have to comfort Arashi. Once more, heâll laugh and assure her nothing will happen to him on his way home. Once more, heâll pretend like heâs oblivious and stupid, making sure that everyone sees him as nothing but a harmless young man, as the least suspicious person in this city.
âConclusion: the other aspects of the pet name kind of go over his head, but he loves it all the same. Take his advice, call him âbaby boyâ in public. Make Liliaâs day.â đ Please I need this scenario in my life now
Ask and you shall receive <3 very late, but you shall receive
Post that the ask is quoting
Word count: 1651
Summary: Lilia and the rest of Diasomnia gang get first row tickets to seeing the heir of Briar Valley get babied.
Warnings: none that come to mind. Hints of angst in the first few paragraphs tho
Note: they/them pronouns used, established relationship. Also, it was a joy writing dialogue for Lilia, but just you wait until I learn Shakespearean English, then I'll truly have fun with him.
Seasons change, years pass, graduation comes and goes, and through all that, Crowley, in the end, never did find a way back home for the new Prefect of Ramshackle. The former Prefect of Ramshackle. Though they left a legacy, in reforming Ramshackle as well as in helping with a record amount of Overblots in such a short timeframe, the fact that it was impossible for them to ever return to their life before Twisted Wonderland weighed down their heart like a heavy rock. Every reminder of their old life, their old home and their old world served as a source of hurt and regret. Even having to think of it as their âoldâ life, and this as their ânewâ life broke their heart in ways that nobody in this world seemed to understand.
But, despite that, they managed to build a life for themselves in this world, in Twisted Wonderland. It wasnât easy and, though fifteen years had passed since, they still sometimes found themselves waking up, expecting the last decade and a half to have been just a vivid dream, and that theyâd open their eyes to their old room, living their old life. That they would awaken thinking it was all just a vivid dream. And, sure, they would feel sad to know all the connections theyâve made were just a figment of their imagination, but⌠Their heart ached for their home. On mornings like that, it was Malleus who was able to bring them some sense of comfort, of ease. His presence and kind words, as well as featherlight touch of support was enough to ground them, to remind them that everything was fine. That he was by their side, that he will always be by their side. That he was their home now.
And what even to say of Malleus and the former Prefect of Ramshackle? Nobody but he himself could say when exactly it happened, but the changes in his behaviour truly started becoming clear around the time of the VDC - even the students that usually took great care to avoid him started noticing it. Whispers and rumours flew around the campus of the Malleus Draconia falling in love, with a magicless human, no less. As if the heir of Briar Valley, a fae with such a dreadful aura and powers â both as a mage and as a figure of authority â that have made him stand above nearly everyone in Night Raven College. A fae as him wouldnât fall for any of his fellow students, least of all one who doesnât even have any powers to compare to his. But, well, those who didnât believe the rumours were probably the ones who got the biggest shock when the two announced their engagement years later.
And though they now lived together in the Briar Valley, awaiting the date of their wedding, not much else has changed. Silver and Sebek were still knights employed by the palace, serving Malleus directly (although the years of service under their belts have promoted them on the orderâs hierarchy), Lilia stuck around as his retainer and, given the Queen was still alive and kicking, Malleus could still enjoy a certain amount of freedom, remaining the heir of the heir. Freedom from responsibility, freedom to move as he pleased, and his betrothed still had time to get used to life in the Briar Valley - and to life as a future monarch well before theyâd have to begin the life of a real monarch. It was a grace period of sorts, for which they were both thankful.
With all that freedom, the group of Night Raven alumni had more than enough time to spend time together, doing nothing but chatting and just hanging out, as they often did back in college. Their favoured way of catching up turned out to be weekly picnics - not taken far from the palace, in fact, oftentimes they just laid out a blanket in the gardens. But the true charm of those picnics was, of course, the informality, the lack of expectations for any of them. Silver and Sebek could sit at the same âtableâ as Lilia, as Malleus and his betrothed. None had to mind their manners or take care to choose their words carefully. They were equals, just a group of adults out for brunch, to catch up. In fact, even the food itself was always to be made by themselves, simple finger foods and sandwiches (though, rest assured, Lilia was still banned from the kitchen; his job was to find a spot and set up the blanket, the plates and whatever decorations he deemed appropriate) to truly make it feel as a moment for themselves, with no connections to their social statuses, to the palace life.
And so, they met up again on a sunny day, with a blue sky clear of clouds hovering above them.
âMaster Lilia chose a wonderful set-up today as well,â Sebek was quick to praise, taking not a second longer than was needed for the aforementioned retainer to set their replacement for a dining table. And with that said, he set down the beverages he was in charge of preparing and bringing that day, three pitchers that were no problem for a knight as himself, as heâd put it, to carry in one trip.
âYou say the same thing every time. Arenât you tired of it?â Silver commented, setting out the small, bite-sized cakes flavoured of various fruits heâs brought on one of Liliaâs decorative platters.
âOf course not! For it is true every time I say it, of course I would not tire of saying it!â Their back-and-forth once more devolved into a tense quarrel, another thing that hasnât changed since their days of college.
âNow, now, calm down, young ones,â Lilia tried his best to stop the argument from escalating. Floating between them, he placed a hand on each knightâs shoulder, gently, yet firmly, squeezing them in a fatherly manner â as a subtle warning. âWeâve come here to enjoy the good food and good ambience together, have we not? Hark, enough squabbling! Malleus and you, dearie, bring forth your offerings and letâs chow down!â
Malleus brought out the heaps of sandwiches, separating them into groups (depending on their ingredients) and placing them on different platters. Each sandwich was wrapped individually, so he made a note to point out which group had which sort. While he was being fed praises by Sebek, and while Silver was then starting another argument with his fellow knight, Malleusâ betrothed set down the foods they were tasked with preparing - which were the salads this time. One of greens, and one of fruit.
âThese look a lot better than last time, Malleus,â Lilia commented upon unwrapping a sandwich.
Malleus hummed, and looked at them who were still preoccupied with setting up their bowls. âIn truth, I received assistance this time.â
âCanât even make a sandwich on your own, huh? A true crown prince you are, little one,â his retainer chuckled, honey-sweet parental affection apparent in his smile.
âRight?â and his betrothed chimed in. âI had to show him how to make them step-by-step. Multiple times, even!â
âIs that so?â
âIt sure is. Iâd even say I deserve to be thanked and lauded. Wouldnât you agree, Malleus?â
And with Sebek too busy arguing with Silver, he had nobody who would defend his honour. So, he accepted, with a laugh, âYouâre right. You have my deepest gratitude, my treasure.â
Lilia burst into laughter, earnestly enjoying the exchange. âMy, my! Dearie, looks like you have him wrapped around-â
âYouâre welcome, baby boy. Now, câmere, let me give you some head pats.â
As Malleus leaned forward, careful to angle his horns away from his betrothedâs face, to accept his promised head pats, Lilia went silent. Not because he no longer found the situation funny, quite the opposite, it was rather that he didnât know if he should laugh at this new turn of events. He quickly turned around, mumbling something about giving the couple privacy, trying to hide his increasingly reddening face. His shoulders shook and he felt like his eyes were going to pop out of their sockets from the force of his held-in giggles, but, still, he did his best to stifle his laughter with a hand firmly covering his mouth.
And it was this that finally got the two knights to stop bickering, with Silver being in a similar state as his father - albeit less theatrical and better trained in his way of hiding his snickering. Sebek, being Sebek, immediately stepped up to defend his lord. âHave you forgotten your place, human?! To think you would dare call our prince such an⌠infantilising term!â
âOh,â Lilia inhaled, his hand resting on his chest as he attempted to calm down from the fit of laughter, âcalm yourself, Sebek, Iâm sure they didnât- I apologise.â He started laughing once more, this time not able to hide it. âKufufu, Sebek, child, you need to chill...â
âItâs just a term of endearment, Sebek,â they defended themselves, as well, âyou know I would never insult Malleus!â
âBesides, itâs a term I like,â Malleus added calmly, but with a hint of sternness to it. âSo, thereâs no reason for you to get so upset on my behalf, is there? I may be your prince, but take care you donât forget that they are your princeâs betrothed.â
Sebek grumbled a bit, but ultimately had nothing else to say.
âCan we start eating? Iâm starving,â Silver interrupted, having laughed his heart out in the shadows of their conversation.
âRight, right!â Lilia was too eager to change the subject by now, still feeling breathless. âLetâs eat, letâs eat⌠whew⌠baby boy,â he let his voice decrease into a whisper with the last words, and a last chuckle. Heâs certain those kids are going to be the death of him some day.
Hihi Korka!!! I bring you another Natsume request because I love your writing and also this has concept has been marinating in my head all night;
A student of the Producer course who decides to produce for Switch, but kind of ends up falling for Natsume; but Natsume seems oblivious to the Producer's attempts at hinting to their crush. But Natsume himself is also harboring a perceived one-sided crush, leading to a bunch of misunderstandings and pining shenanigans~
I hope this all made sense lol. Thank you once again, Korka <3
Whew!! Ay, I'm ngl. I looked at this and went "Oh this would go so hard as a 20k slowburn idiots to idiots-in-love multichapter" but if I were to write multichapters, it'd take literal years, I think, so. Best I can do is implied past pining and a confession scene preceded by a misunderstanding that gets resolved relatively quickly. OTZ
Word count: 1737
Summary: How do you ask out someone who seems to be completely unaware of all your advances? Directly. Be warned: the really oblivious ones won't even get that one.
"KitTEN" count: 2
Notes: they/them pronouns! I hope this is fine, again. I'm always a bit more nervous ab writing for mewchies, I feel like I need to wow you </3
Being in the producer course meant being fought over and for by the various students and units who frequented the idol course. That was simply the natural order in Yumenosaki school â as each year a lot more applicants would apply for the idol course over any of the other courses. And, of course, itâs best to have a producer whoâs only dedicated to your unit. However, that simply isnât possible in a lot of situations, and a single student of the producer course will often have to juggle multiple units â which prompted the cycling method to be implemented. So, instead of a single producer having to split their attention into working with multiple units at the same time, all of the producer students would simply switch who they were producing every once in a while. But, despite that, if a single producer clicks well enough with a unit, and vice-versa, they can claim exclusive rights on one another. This was, naturally, another way to encourage developing professional relationships amongst classmates, as switching units and producers right when theyâd gotten used to each other was generally considered bothersome.
This is the path that the unit Switch decided to walk on when they chose their permanent producer. And this was quite the feat, considering not just Switchâs popularity, but also the fact that their leader was one of the so-called Five Eccentrics. As the name said, he was quite the eccentric young man, and he never really made an effort to become closer to any of the producers. Except for that one. It was as if that one enchanted him. It was obvious to everyone except to him, who thought he was being so cool about his changing feelings. Although, to his credit, thanks to his general odd behaviour, nobody really figured out why he was treating them so specially. It certainly took him a few weeks to realise, too â but Natsume Sakasaki had a crush for, what was probably, the first time in years, if not ever.
It didnât start off that way, of course, at first that Producer was just one of the many who were assigned to Switch. And he didnât even think to bother getting close to them, despite Tsumugi and Sora welcoming them with open hands â as they treated every producer. The Producer was just as professional, seemingly not caring for Natsumeâs cold behaviour towards them one bit. After a few days of that, Natsume realised he was getting frustrated with their behaviour. He just couldnât figure out why it bothered him that they were so unbothered by him ignoring them. But the week passed, and they switched units, and⌠he couldnât forget about them. In fact, he couldnât stop comparing every next producer to them. âThatâs not how they would do THAT,â and âThey were so much more skilled and fasTER,â â most of the student body noticed that heâd somehow gotten even pickier and stricter with the producers.
So, when the cycle closed, and that Producer was assigned Switch again, he changed his behaviour towards them ever so slightly. Instead of ignoring them, he was now watching them almost too closely, as if waiting for a mistake to be made. In part, that was what he was doing. Natsume had noticed that none of the producers were good enough for Switch (for him), except for this specific Producer. But he still wanted to be sure that he wasnât being selfish or centring himself â they were a unit, after all â and so he spent the week carefully observing them. How they planned, how they talked to the higher-ups as well as the members of the unit, how they adapted to sudden changes in plans and how quick they were at coming up with solutions to problems that commonly arise in the business. And he was pleased with the results.
By the end of the week, Natsume had sat down with Tsumugi and Sora to talk the matter of offering the Producer the title of Switchâs producer over. And the offer was made on Friday, accepted on Monday.
But Natsume hadnât realised that he had a crush on them until weeks later, at which point he cursed himself for not trying to cast a spell on them sooner â by then it would have worked â and the fact that he had to start trying to win them over only from when he found out his own feelings. Even though he tried to make his intentions known to their Producer from that moment onward, he was being very charming, and rather subtle about it. Too subtle, maybe even, as the Producer never really noticed his attempts at flirting. Which frustrated him more than the way they shrugged off his behaviour back during their first week as colleagues.
Perhaps, most frustrating of all (or, it would have been frustrating to him had he known) was the fact that his flirting didnât fly over their head for no reason, or even because they werenât interested. Rather the opposite, actually. The Producer never noticed because they were too busy trying to subtly let him know of their own crush on Natsume. So, their back-and-forth attempts at flirting and seducing one another without even realising their love was reciprocated was quite the sight to behold â and one Tsumugi and Sora had fun observing.
âKitTEN,â one of the more obvious methods Natsume employed in his flirting was that pet name for them, âtell ME, whatâs your favourite coLOUR?â Heâd cornered them in their classroom just to ask such a simple question.
âHm,â the Producer thought for a moment, looking deeply into his eyes, as if hypnotised, âYellow. A similar shade to your eyes, actually.â Well, it was possible that the Producer wasnât as subtle as Natsume was oblivious. It was as if he didnât even hear that their favourite colour just so happened to match the colour of his eyes, he was instead thinking of flower language and which yellow bouquet best to buy for his Producer â framed as a gift of gratitude for their support, naturally.
âYelLOWâŚâ he mumbled while dragging a chair over, placing it between their and the desk in front of them so he can sit directly opposite them. âItâs a colour that would really emphasise your beauTY.â
They laughed. âIs that all you came to ask?â
âIt IS.â He made no effort to get up from his seat and leave. His eyes never left theirs.
âYou wonât mind if I ask you something, then?â
âOf course NOT. Ask aWAY.â
It took a moment for the Producer to settle into asking, fidgeting slightly with the textbook that sat on their desk, waiting for the class to start. âI wanna ask this guy out.â Natsume frowned. âWhat do you think is the best way to do that?â
Itâs not that he was in shock. He was just a bit surprised, really. Did they seriously never notice his flirting? He already noticed his magic doesnât work on them, but was he really being too subtle? âWho do you want to ASK? I canât give you advice without knowing any deTAILS.â He quickly pulled himself together. While he wanted to be supportive, he couldnât deny how disappointed he was.
âThatâs not really important, I just want to know your opinion. Do you think I should give him something, like a chocolate or a letter or-â
âKitTEN, youâre being awfully cruel by asking me for advice on asking someone else OUT,â though said like a joke, it was more of a warning. He didnât like the conversation anymore.
âIâm just curious!â
âWell, maybe you should go ask him, then,â Natsume snapped, before he had a chance to stop himself. And though he bit his tongue, it was too late to make a difference. He didnât apologise, however, instead he just lowered his head, yet still keeping an eye on the Producer from the corner of his eye.
They⌠didnât seem to have taken it personally. In fact, they were laughing. âOkay,â they said between giggles, âI didnât know you got jealous so easily. So, how do you want to be asked out?â
It took him a few seconds to realise just what they were trying to say with that. And when it clicked, his face flushed a bright red. Whether it was shame at his outburst or the embarrassment of having confirmation of his feelings being reciprocated shown so suddenly, he wasnât certain. All of the natural charm heâs shown in the past while openly flirting with them seemed to have evaporated in that moment, as he just sat there in total silence, head still turned to his lap, where his hands were folded politely. The Producer called out his name. âWh-what?â
âWell? How do you want to be asked out?â
â⌠Maybe donât start by pretending youâre going to ask out somebody ELSE. Itâs a bit of a mood kiLLER.â
âSure thing!â They laughed again, which eased Natsumeâs nerves as well. He breathed out a bit, trying to hide what was left of his blush with his hand. Once again, a bit too late to make a difference. âDo you want to walk with me to the station after school today?â
âIâd love TO. But Iâm going to take you on a proper date this weekEND.â He tried his best to save face, and whatever was left of his pride, by attempting to appear as assertive as possible with the offer. He was thankful they played along. Seeing them smile in agreement was enough to have Natsume relax.
Truth be told, he never really imagined that his feelings would be reciprocated. Instead, he thought of the Producer as entirely out of his league; a being that floated above him and whom he was really only allowed to gaze at from a distance. And to think it would be them themselves who would end up reaching out their hand to him, that it would be them whoâd be asking him out. Heâd be embarrassed if he wasnât overjoyed. But the clockâs hands nearly overlapped, signalling the start of the lessons for that day, and serving as Natsumeâs cue to leave for his own classroom. With one last promise to meet him for lunch, he bowed out and left as quickly as heâd arrived, still composed on the outside, but nearly screaming of excitement on the inside. He was already anticipating the weekend.
