Naive Sweetheart

Independent rp blog for Makoto Tachibana of Free! Multi-ship / Multi-verse, 18, Single. Naive Sweetheart

[pangeapanic-blog]

Blood & Snow

[pangeapanic-blog]

Garlic; he had never noticed the overly pungent smell, or the way it permeated the air like raw onion. It was maddening, this stench, and Makoto’s stomach churned as his roommate forked a helping onto his plate, garnishing warm pasta with a slice of dreaded bread. He tried to smile as he sat, worried peridot settling uncomfortably on the mass of food that waited– so innocently, to be eaten. “It looks… delicious.” He swallowed nervously, twisting cooked noodles around a silver fork in drawn out, languid twirls. Despite the desperate attempt at stalling he knew he had to eat it. Had to pretend to be somewhat normal. Had to, or Sousuke would know. And he was never very good at fooling Sousuke. Creamy cardboard, that was the only way to describe it. Alfredo, butter and parmesan cheese were no longer appetizing (no longer food, for that matter), and Makoto couldn’t help the protestant whine that escaped him through bits of forced chewing. There was absolutely no way in hell he would be able to stomach the entire plate and the thought of feigning illness to escape dinner was sounding more and more appealing. “Do we, um.. have any wine?” Oh yes, wine. If he was drunk enough he could probably eat anything.

[soudevoted-deactivated20221106]

Twirling soft noodles around his own fork, Sousuke inhaled the wonderfully pleasing aroma of what he’d made.  He was actually quite proud of it.  Since he’d come to college and he had a full kitchen at his disposal, he’d become quite the chef, in fact. He didn’t make this particular meal often, preferring things that were a bit healthier and were a bit lazier and a bit more Japanese, but he loved it.  Just the right blend of spices in the sauce and cooking the noodles for just the right amount of time, plus the perfect bread he picked out at the store and then the garlic spread he liked best, all put together made a wondrous masterpiece.

Judging by the look on Makoto’s face, though, it seemed it might need improvement?  Either that or he was sick and his taste buds were going haywire.  Sousuke stuck a forkful into his own mouth to try it himself and chewed, pleased with the taste, personally, so what was up?  Hell, Makoto was actually whining.

“Oh, yeah, I think so,” Sousuke replied, though he frowned to himself as he stood and wandered back to the fridge where he found a half-full bottle of wine. The food wasn’t bad and Makoto had liked it when he made this before, he was sure… He grabbed two clean wine glasses and set them on the table, then filled each glass generously.  “You sick?” he asked as he sat back down, leaving the bottle on the table.  “If you want something else to eat, just say so.”

[pangeapanic-blog]

As Sousuke moved green eyes followed: to the fridge to get the wine, to the cabinet to retrieve the glasses then to the table once more. Like a hunter stalking prey he searched for weakness, pulse points. Veins. As the wine was poured its distinct aroma drowned out the unpleasant food. Bright notes of aged merlot filled his heightened senses with a potent bouquet. “Well, I haven’t been feeling like myself.” He admitted, unwilling to lie yet still answering truthfully. He reached a shaky hand to the long stemmed glass then raised it quickly to his lips. He had never liked wine, even Sousuke knew, and yet he couldn’t restrain himself from gulping it greedily. Delicious and rich. Liquid garnet. It was better than pasta yet still not enough, not nearly as satisfying as the thing his body yearned for, pleaded, begged to taste. 'If you want something else to eat, just say so.’

Blood.

He dropped the glass. The empty cup hit hard linoleum and shattered on impact, snapping Makoto from his daze. “I.. didn’t mean to--” The brunet stood, staring hopelessly at the mess that now tainted Sousuke’s beautiful kitchen. “I’m sorry!”

[miyakuli]

** Permission to post it was granted by the artist Please, rate and/or bookmark their works on Pixiv too **

Artist :  ジョウ

Source

[pangeapanic-blog]

Blood & Snow

[pangeapanic-blog]

Makoto was drifting. The hum of the need was no longer deafening as he breathed– half asleep, into his own pillow. Beyond starving, his resolve was drained to the point of defeat and it was in this state that his roommate found him. He hadn’t registered the opening of the door, or the aroma of a dinner he could have once enjoyed. Instead, the allure of something more sinister beckoned him to look up. Sousuke, standing in the frame of his bedroom door. “I-I’m not hungry!” He lied, hoping this shaky excuse would satisfy the other’s concern. Panicked peridot hesitated for a second before flashing back, coveting the warm body near the door. The rush of instinct was inevitable. The ache of baby fangs deepened, alternating between throbs and sharp streaks. He pushed off the bed in a fluid motion, stepping forward in a hypnotic daze. Even beneath the skin he could smell it: the heady scent of blood, decadent and rich, coursing steadily through the whale shark’s veins. “Sousuke-kun…” He practically purred, stepping closer still. A narrowed stare fell upon the swimmer’s neck, settling at the pulse point of his throat. Venom tinged saliva flooded his mouth as a murmur of warning pulsed through him. Too close. It was this room. Closed windows, heater humming, magnifying the scent of his favorite thing. Somewhere in the depths of his subconscious mind Makoto knew they had to leave. Had to go somewhere less dangerous, more open. Somewhere he could control the need. “Maybe I’ll have a slice of bread.” He swallowed again, forcing a smile as he focused his resolve. Stepping past his roommate and into the kitchen was the hardest thing he’d ever done.

[soudevoted-deactivated20221106]

Makoto’s immediate rejection of dinner made the frown on his lips and the crease in his forehead as his eyebrows knit together only deepen in displeasure.  “It wasn’t a suggestion,” he stated very matter-of-factly in his low bass, daring Makoto to try to tell him he wasn’t hungry again in that panicked tone.  He had to be starving, right?

Finally, Makoto moved, to Sousuke’s small delight, but then… It was odd, but he could’ve sworn that Makoto was just staring at his neck.  Suddenly, he looked seductive in a way that made Sousuke’s instinctual alarm bells begin to ring, telling him… something was really wrong.  He was staring just as hard back at Makoto.  Hell, he even forgot to remind Makoto that he’d asked him to just call him “Sousuke,” without the -kun, because he looked so strange.

“Something wrong?” he asked, raising a brow.  He really must’ve been hungry.  Clearly, he was malnourished or something if that was the kind of behavior he was displaying. Bread alone certainly wouldn’t do.

Makoto moved along to the kitchen, finally breaking their intense staring at each other, Sousuke in worry and Makoto… probably because he was out of it from lack of nutrition, and Sousuke followed right behind.  “You’re eating a full meal,” he said, turning a hard look over his shoulder to let Makoto know he wasn’t accepting further arguments.

With dinner prepared, he filled Makoto’s plate with a full helping of pasta and a warm slice of garlic bread and plopped it down at Makoto’s place at the table he’d set.  Then, he fixed a plate for himself as well and sat down at his  own usual place.  “Eat that and I’ll make you brownies,” he promised, trying to sweeten the deal with him a bit.  He wouldn’t say no to freshly-baked brownies, right?

[pangeapanic-blog]

Garlic; he had never noticed the overly pungent smell, or the way it permeated the air like raw onion. It was maddening, this stench, and Makoto’s stomach churned as his roommate forked a helping onto his plate, garnishing warm pasta with a slice of dreaded bread. He tried to smile as he sat, worried peridot settling uncomfortably on the mass of food that waited-- so innocently, to be eaten. “It looks... delicious.” He swallowed nervously, twisting cooked noodles around a silver fork in drawn out, languid twirls. Despite the desperate attempt at stalling he knew he had to eat it. Had to pretend to be somewhat normal. Had to, or Sousuke would know. And he was never very good at fooling Sousuke. Creamy cardboard, that was the only way to describe it. Alfredo, butter and parmesan cheese were no longer appetizing (no longer food, for that matter), and Makoto couldn’t help the protestant whine that escaped him through bits of forced chewing. There was absolutely no way in hell he would be able to stomach the entire plate and the thought of feigning illness to escape dinner was sounding more and more appealing. “Do we, um.. have any wine?” Oh yes, wine. If he was drunk enough he could probably eat anything.

[naughtynagisa]

by 六りく

[drawsbutnotreally]

Makoto no Neko Atsume~

[royaleomens]

[yohao88]

you forgot baseball haru. this one has even the same voice XD

[yohao88]

sorry to interrupt. I’m here to tell you I found the musical haru (same voice as the original one this time too XD)

[akarimarco]

The thief Haru XD

[themultifandomnerd-deactivated2]

petition for the other haru’s to be the haru’s in haru’s mind in 50% off

[soumakofever]

I knew it

[montgomery-rain]

Let’s take a look at this scene again.

I can almost guarantee that Makoto has never been told that he’s good at anything. I think he’s always tacitly understood that he’s a good brother, a good son, a good friend. But simply understanding something doesn’t make a person believe that they have value and I can tell you that Makoto doesn’t value himself. It’s a Steve Rogers Complex. He may be a good amazing man, but he knows all of his flaws acutely and that’s all he can focus on. He’s a scardey-cat. He doesn’t have any special skills. He’s too nice. He’s too boring. He does average in school. He certainly has no idea what he wants to do in life, and he’s a crowd-pleaser. This is how Makoto sees himself. He doesn’t see the wonderful, kind, sweet, selfless, loyal, gentle giant that he is. He assumes that he has no value and this is how he’s seen himself from childhood. 

This is a child who does everything for other people because he doesn’t believe that he himself is worth anything. Now imagine being best friends with a prodigy.

We’ve all had that one friend who is better than us at something. Better at drawing, singing, school, whatever. Remember how shitty you felt when you realized no matter how hard you work that you’ll never reach their level? That’s Mako. Now mix it with an immense guilt-complex and selfless love for Haru. Not only is he feeling like shit about himself, he’s confused, upset, and guilty about his feelings of jealousy because friends aren’t supposed to feel that way about friends. 

Makoto never processed those emotions, he just locked them away until they became unbearable (2 episodes ago). Makoto sees himself as a tool for other’s self-realization, so it’s inconceivable to him that he has talents; that he’s good, really goodat swimming.

Now imagine how he must feel when Rinsits down with him and tells him that he should be getting calls from scouts with his skill level.

Makoto was so focused his entire life on how amazing Haru and Rin were at swimming that he never realized his own talent. Now someone’s telling him that he may have a future, a professional future, that mind you, not everyone can achieve, in something he’s always seen himself as mediocre in. 

Makoto Tachibana is valuable. He is worth something. He is irreplaceable and must be loved within an inch of his life. This has been a PSA and I hope you’re all drowning in your tears like I am. 

[miyakuli]

** Permission to post it was granted by the artist Please, rate and/or bookmark their works on Pixiv too **

Artist :  ジョウ

Source

[roza]

食パンヌ

Posted with Permission

[haridraws]

Sharks sharks sharks, drew some sharks.

[curiousitykilledthelady-blog]

Reblog if your muse has a nice butt.

[pangeapanic-blog]

Blood & Snow

@soudevoted He was sitting near the window, watching the snow outside inch silently higher. A view of moonlit branches garnished with frost shook stiffly in the wind, shadowing a garden of frozen flowers and empty trees. It was all so beautiful. A welcome distraction from the constant need that he tried so hard to ignore. The need. It had started almost a month ago on his eighteenth birthday, subtle at first, in the form of cravings– a craving which no food could satisfy. But he was past that now. He no longer recalled the last time he’d been hungry for normal things. The hollow emptiness in the pit of his stomach had shifted to his teeth, which over the past week had begun to ache. A dull throb pained each incisor like a cavity. Sharp. Ache. Dull. Throb. Tonight had been especially bad so the brunet had retreated to his room, shut the door, and tried desperately not to think about the horrible smell.

That smell. Warm and aromatic, like sweet cloves and honeyed wine. It was rustic and lush, so tangible he could practically taste it, waxing and waning like a summer breeze. He could sense it now from the kitchen, a baited trap with a succulent lure; Sousuke. His mouth salivated at the thought and he licked his lip. Sousuke. His heart raced, droning in his ears like a wild drum. That delicious, forbidden, horrible scent would break him if he wasn’t careful. So he stopped himself, swallowed, then buried his face into a pillow with a muffled groan.

[soudevoted-deactivated20221106]

As someone who took his own health and physical fitness very seriously, it was only natural that Sousuke would be concerned with the health of the people he cared about.  Some people said he was like a mom with his nagging at times, but he did it because he cared.

Naturally, when he noticed that Makoto wasn’t eating, didn’t seem interested in eating even things like desserts—and this was the boy who ate at least three helpings of chocolate cake once!—and seemed to be avoiding mealtimes, he was concerned.  He wasn’t sure if this was some body image thing or if he was sick or if maybe Makoto just wasn’t eating around him, but they spent enough time around each other for him to be fairly confident that Makoto hadn’t eaten in days—maybe weeks.

He planned to fix that and give that boy a stern talking to if he tried to argue to the contrary.

“Oi,” he said as he opened the door to Makoto’s room, letting the aroma from the kitchen waft into the room and hopefully draw him out.  He was making pasta and garlic bread. Who could resist that? Maybe he’d even make Makoto something with chocolate for dessert just to fill him up.  “Dinner will be ready in a few minutes. Get up.”

[pangeapanic-blog]

Makoto was drifting. The hum of the need was no longer deafening as he breathed-- half asleep, into his own pillow. Beyond starving, his resolve was drained to the point of defeat and it was in this state that his roommate found him. He hadn’t registered the opening of the door, or the aroma of a dinner he could have once enjoyed. Instead, the allure of something more sinister beckoned him to look up. Sousuke, standing in the frame of his bedroom door. “I-I’m not hungry!” He lied, hoping this shaky excuse would satisfy the other’s concern. Panicked peridot hesitated for a second before flashing back, the rush of instinct was inevitable. The ache of baby fangs deepened, alternating between throbs and sharp streaks. He pushed off the bed in a fluid motion, stepping forward in a hypnotic daze. Even beneath the skin he could smell it: the heady scent of blood, decadent and rich, coursing steadily through the whale shark’s veins. “Sousuke-kun...” He practically purred, stepping closer still. A narrowed stare fell upon the swimmer’s neck, settling at the pulse point of his throat. Venom tinged saliva flooded his mouth as a murmur of warning pulsed through him. Too close. It was this room. Closed windows, heater humming, magnifying the scent of his favorite thing. Somewhere in the depths of his subconscious mind Makoto knew they had to leave. Had to go somewhere less dangerous, more open. Somewhere he could control the need. “Maybe I’ll have a slice of bread.” He swallowed again, forcing a smile as he focused his resolve. Stepping past his roommate and into the kitchen was the hardest thing he’d ever done.

[therealnqsbitches]

Source:

Pixiv ID: 39193124 Member: uhon

[sekaiichiyaoi]

※ Authorized Reprint for Tumblr || artist: みう＠宗百宗 / みう＠宗百宗 ☑  Do not remove source link || edit  illustration|| change caption|| upload to other websites!  

[johanndro]

free time together

[pangeapanic-blog]

Blood & Snow

@soudevoted He was sitting near the window, watching the snow outside inch silently higher. A view of moonlit branches garnished with frost shook stiffly in the wind, shadowing a garden of frozen flowers and empty trees. It was all so beautiful. A welcome distraction from the constant need that he tried so hard to ignore. The need. It had started almost a month ago on his eighteenth birthday, subtle at first, in the form of cravings-- a craving which no food could satisfy. But he was past that now. He no longer recalled the last time he’d been hungry for normal things. The hollow emptiness in the pit of his stomach had shifted to his teeth, which over the past week had begun to ache. A dull throb pained each incisor like a cavity. Sharp. Ache. Dull. Throb. Tonight had been especially bad so the brunet had retreated to his room, shut the door, and tried desperately not to think about the horrible smell.

That smell. Warm and aromatic, like sweet cloves and honeyed wine. It was rustic and lush, so tangible he could practically taste it, waxing and waning like a summer breeze. He could sense it now from the kitchen, a baited trap with a succulent lure; Sousuke. His mouth salivated at the thought and he licked his lip. Sousuke. His heart raced, droning in his ears like a wild drum. That delicious, forbidden, horrible scent would break him if he wasn’t careful. So he stopped himself, swallowed, then buried his face into a pillow with a muffled groan.