#necrosin

[spirestar]

@necrosin : akira & makoto!

Makoto is not an impulsive person. She's had to iron out impulse and temper her heart in the face of her sister's expectations. The expectations of her school. Her father's memory. And she hates to be a burden -- To draw more attention than she should / than she deserves and worry the people she ( has left ) loves. For all intents and purposes, this is not a place she should ever be: Winded and fearful from running for her life, even after at least half an hour has passed. She's sure she's hiding it well, or as well as she can, hands folded in her lap as she stares down at them, fingertips twitching to press her nails into her palms every time she begins to dwell on how stupid she is / WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT?

“Did they hurt you?” Akira asks her quietly, dropping onto the step beside her. He promised to walk her home from the station -- It took long enough to get everyone else home and she refused to be the first to get off at their stop, to go sit at home alone with only her reflection for company -- and she's nearly mortified enough to believe not even his asking now can make it worse. He's very kind for someone she's threatened to ruin the life of. He can't deserve that. For a second, she wants to shake him by the lapels. How can Akira be so calm??? But that's just another impulse, too. "I'm sorry," she breathes, ducking her head slightly. He's not the one who ran away to play bait for mobsters / Who refuses to acknowledge how empty life is as a tool of rotten bullshit. She'd be nothing with Sae. Will be nothing all alone.

"N-no." Makoto shakes her head, amending, placating, always careful and forcing herself to conscious of her responses. She lifts her head and offers a weak smile. Almost looks a little sick. Adrenaline, she prepares as an answer to a question he hasn't even asked. "They didn't, not really--I'm fine," a little uncomfortable laugh. She doesn't like being vulnerable. It feels dangerous. Like standing over a grave. Makoto waves a hand casually as if to dissuade him from worrying, shaking her head, too, as she chuckles to herself. "I'm, I'm more--embarrassed than anything, don't. Don't worry--"

[heartslight]

a letter from @necrosin that reads don't mind her, just nams brushing some sand out of sora's hair

peace settles upon battle - scarred heart the way ocean waves lap at the shoreline; that’s to say, it comes to him almost naturally! it’s in the way the fabric of her dress tickles the base of his neck whenever the seaside breeze passes them by, it’s in the way gentle fingers tug at his hair with a foreign sort of delicacy not often seen throughout his journeys. every brush works to soothe whatever worry might still linger within his shadow / places to bed any fear that’s haunted him ever since returning to the realm of light. naminé continues to work carefully, threads their fingers in his hair as if he was something to be treasured, and sora can only sink deeper into the repose they bring out. a sigh leaves when nails brush across the scalp and ( not for the first time since she graciously let him settle on her lap! ) sora wonders if it’d be rude of him to fall asleep right there and then.

it wouldn’t be very polite of him. knowing naminé, they wouldn’t complain or make much of a fuss.. but having his dead weight on her lap? after a while, that’s going to cramp! really bad!

eyes flutter open at the conclusion that he simply must stay awake, if to ensure the well - being of her legs! the smile in place has yet to falter, and only manages to grow in radiance at glancing up to meet their gaze. sitting in the shade, against the blue green backdrop of the trees and sky.. naminé really did look angelic! ❛ was my hair that bad? you can tell me if it was — it’s always a bit of a mess! ❜

[heartinhands]

@necrosin starter for cc + lelouch

Lelouch should be surprised when he enters his room to see C.C. sitting on the couch, holding that plushie to her chest like she always does -- she's been MIA for two weeks after all -- but all he feels is the vague cocktail of relief and irritation. She's like a stray cat. A stray cat who eats only Pizza Hut. To the chagrin of the student council's budget. Milly was beginning to give him an earful about it, too...

He gives her a cursory glance from the corner of his eyes and sighs, shrugs, and rolls his eyes all at once. "You were gone for a while this time, C.C.. Were you doing some soul searching, or what? Remember, I'm the only one who can grant your wish." Lelouch loosens the collar of his school uniform and exhales, finally letting go of the remaining tension in his body. A little nicer, because they both know that he doesn't want her to just stay gone: "Welcome back."

[heartinhands]

@necrosin said: ❛ i don’t think i’ve ever seen you smile. ❜ —— just a bit of fakir being a bitch to rue for no reason SDKJGNSDKJN

Slender fingers curl long wavy strands of hair around and around -- Rue tilts her head to the side to assess Fakir's demeanor, see how much bite is really in his words. He acts gruff and mean but Rue knows well enough by now that it's just a front. Fakir hasn't tried to actually hurt her, just push her away. Well...that's fine too. Rue is used to isolation in one way or another. At first she'd tried to befriend the other girls in the ballet class, but they'd quickly ascribed her as a queen and so she'd become that: drifting endlessly to the top, her calm demeanor always setting her a peg above the rest. And princesses, per the people in town, have no need to befriend the common folk. So Rue had become a princess for her prince, as the fairy tale demanded. Isolation is comforting. And loving a prince without a heart makes that even easier.

"I have no reason to smile at someone like you," she muses loftily, words edging on a kinder joke, one not at Fakir's expense, "All you do is bare your teeth at me like you're some sort of guard dog." They're protecting Mytho, the two of them, both in their own way -- they don't need to understand the other's ways...Rue knows just how kind Mytho really is, and she'd rather die than let anything happen to that feeble, emotionless heart. If his first instinct is to throw himself in harm's way for the safety of the weak, it's likely better if he feels nothing at all so he can live a long life. And that is what's most important to the two of them. Looking after and protecting their glass-hearted prince.

[spirestar]

1, 2, 3 —— Then three more turns for the end of the set, fifth position, demi-plié, glissade assemblé, fifth, demi and pas de cheval —— Mytho doesn't count them, doesn't know how long he has been going already, and yet the movement flow through his limbs like water. No, blood. He knows that much about his body: He is mortal, no matter how unchanging his existence remains. Whatever makes his bones sing in step and squeezes his almost-empty heart back to life when he dances is beyond him. But he knows he needs to do it. Sometimes he forgets to breathe. Sometimes his feet go purple and ache in his shoes before he can find a way to stop. Without feeling, why should he ever have to? How many times has he woken up in a pile on the floor, bleary and thoughtless as he's peeled from it jerkily?

Oh. There's a hand on his raised arm now, pressing firmly into his skin. Someone else might be surprised, but Mytho can't be. Not yet. "Fakir," he breathes, blinking slowly as he lowers his hand so Fakir won't have to raise his own arm to keep a hold of it. His back leg stays poised in arabesque. It doesn't hurt. Still, his fingers twitch. He swallows a breath winces as it wheezes from his lungs immediately. It doesn't hurt, but he winces like he's been punched.

Too much again, his mind supplies. Mytho considers whether he'll ever understand his own limits. They feel nonexistent when he is by himself because everything feels like nothing. Fakir always makes him remember that doesn't make things less real. Mytho fumbles to take hold of his friend's blazer as he doubles over, gasping to catch his breath, and lands awkwardly on both feet. Fakir doesn't let him fall. Fakir always says things like ——

"Here, I'll take care of that," as he takes Mytho's elbows in his hands and lowers him so they can both sit on the floor / Busies those same hands with undoing the ties on Mytho's shoes that he's shaking too much to do himself. Mytho focuses on inhaling like he's been told to before and doesn't let the piercing strangeness in his chest flutter. It wants him to see something in himself that he cannot understand. "Fakir," he tries again, his eyes somehow sad even though he cannot be. Perhaps the performance of sadness is also part of his human body's response to emptiness. Or, perhaps, with loneliness now returned to him, Mytho cannot escape the awful strings tying him to every other feeling he once called his own. Inescapable and futilely denied. "Is it cold?" Mytho wonders if Fakir would take his hand again if it was. He is staring down at them, still trembling where they lay in his lap now.

@necrosin

[ruinedheart-a]

it's tempting to stay in bed —— when isn't it is the real question —— and frankly miraculous to begin with that yuki managed to wake up before momo ( aided and abetted by the excess of power naps he had taken the day before, of course ) and the idea of getting out of bed is HARROWING ENOUGH on a normal day BUT !! today is a special day, so even yuki can muster the will and energy to extricate himself from momo's arms ( awful, terrible, miserable every time / the world is much better when viewed from the point of view of momo's lovely, lovely arms ) and stumble, somewhat asleep into the kitchen, narrowly avoiding crashing into the couch, and momo's apartment is compact enough that he has no hope of being truly quiet preparing breakfast, but he can try, can't he? and he does : making all of momo's favorite breakfast meats, fluffy pancakes, too, apartment still dark and cool, since he doesn't dare turn on the overhead light —— he already knows where everything is, after all, knows these cabinets as well as his own / and when momo awakens yuki is ready with a smile and adoration and a kiss, sealed with a quiet "happy birthday, momo." and, really, who cares if it's far too early to exist? it's his beloved's day, after all.

it was hard to stay in bed once awake, especially for momo! even before the cramped idol scheduling, he’d always been so used to an early rise ( because once upon a time, there was nothing momo had loved more than soccer! and any excuse found to practice would always be taken! ) even when his world had lost its meaning, he couldn’t bring himself to stay in bed any longer than a few minutes ( because if momo woke up earlier than the members of his household, they couldn’t stop him from trying to practice soccer even if he knew that dream was as broken as his leg. ) and then re:vale had gathered all the pieces and created a new momo with their songs, one who would wake up early in order to sneakily listen to the ruri’s albums / who would wake up early to purchase tickets whenever they became available / one who would wake up early due to the thrill of an upcoming event keeping him from returning to sleep. the habit truly cemented itself upon joining @necrosin on that stage, with thoughts so horrifically disgusting haunting him that the only thing momo could do was attempt to run away from them altogether! it had been easy at first, with an overloaded plate keeping him so busy that there wasn’t ever time to think about how selfishly good it felt to be standing beside yuki. but then the re:vale name continued to grow and with it came more vivid visualizations of banri propped against different backdrops of red, with momo’s hands always tinted the same shade —— and it got near impossible to stay in bed after that.

it’s only more recently that he’s begun to take a page out of his partner’s book and try to stay a few minutes longer in bed ( only on day offs, where their schedule was completely cleared of any previous responsibility, and only when yuki stayed over, where he could latch on and stubbornly keep momo in bed for longer periods of time! ) except there weren’t a pair of arms around him to ensure momo didn’t get out of bed when he woke up, which was surprising enough to have him wake up completely. a day where yuki wakes up before him? it must be his birthday! ( he knew it was, since his grandfather had called him the day before to offer early birthday wishes! ) a day to be justifiably selfish, to give voice to the more self - seeking desires.. and with yuki, all to himself! at least, for now — for there was no doubt that friends and colleagues would be continuously trying to take his attention away from his beloved today! ( they couldn’t be blamed, the point of a birthday was to celebrate the person in question.. but momo just wanted yuki for his birthday! ) and so, the motivation for another early rise is found as momo shoves the blankets aside to swing his legs over the bedside. bedside slippers are right where he left them last night and it only takes a few steps before he’s standing in the kitchen with everything he could ever want, all cramped inside four walls. birthday breakfast cools on the table as the worn out soccer ball rests beside the couch as the phone begins to ding with incoming notifications as arms reach out to bring yuki closer and in the early hours of the morning, it all selfishly belonged to him.

[strawnav]

@necrosin liked! / yugi & nami!

"Oh, damn," the navigator says, eyes wide, looking down at the card game she'd just lost. That never happens! Granted, she does often cheat; she hadn't bothered this time, they're not playing for money and Nami had been confident she could win even without cheating, as she almost always does. ( she'd learned without much of a choice, and any skill you master under threat of torture or starvation is bound to be sharper than the same skill in your neighbor. ) This kid is GOOD.

Her eyes raise, glittering, and a smirk plays across her mouth. What are the odds she can recruit this kid for a scam. "I can't remember the last time I got beat at cards. You're really talented — Yugi, was it?"