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melody || open

"Hnnnnnng..." Tsumiki groaned as she looked at the simple gears and cogs made of brass that she had laid next to her as she looked at the small music box in front of her. It was another find in the scrapyard that she visited in order to get things that she thought she could salvage. Parts that were often overlooked since the whole was broken.... To be rebuilt and reused, and sometimes, she found treasures such as this one.

"Let's see..... this goes here.... along with this...."

A light half-turn with the screwdriver told her that she had it wrong. This wasn't how it was supposed to turn out. Did she mess up at some point? How fast was this thing supposed to turn? Sure, the revolving cylinder was damaged along with the steel comb, and she had been trying to fix the darned thing, but with Tsumiki's lack of talent with music made her impossible to know how she should fix this one music box.

The last one she had fixed only had to have a replaced key and cogs. This one, the fundamental pieces had been scraped off, and that just made it an impossible task. Perhaps that was why she brought it to school in the first place, fixing it there instead of her workshop... Perhaps to ask a teacher, or someone who has talent for music... Or anyone, really.

Another attempt, letting out some off-key tinkling of the steel comb resounding against the quickly mended cylinder.... "Do I have to redo this again...?"

#ic;#shsltsopen

little lotte || open

--> A walk. That was what xe needed. Staying cramped up in xyr room more than xe usually does would be bad. Fresh air could help the thoughts and ideas cirulate. Maybe xe would even find some inspiration from something xe sees. That's probably unlikely, though. ||

--> Somehow Fukawa had ended up getting more and more fans. The mere idea of it baffled xem. No one could truly like someone like xem. Someone so disgusting, someone so inferior, someone so vile; how could someone like someone as undesirable as xem? It was definitely a mystery. ||

>> "...I-It's probably because they don't know what I'm really like..."

>> "That m-must be it..! No one in their right mind would t-tolerate me!"

--> The artist mumbled these words under xyr breath. Xe wrapped xyr hands around xyr arms, holding onto them tightly. Grey irises were linked with the floor tiles, staring aimlessly at them as they progressed. Walks usually turned out like this. The girl would let xyr thoughts wander and xe would end up hating xemself more. Maybe walks weren't such a good idea. ||

--> Fukawa's thoughts wandered back to xyr fans. They all wanted more and more of All the Reasons Why, and sadly that coming to a close. Perhaps a sequel was in order. However, this sequel would have to be good. Xe thought that xe was a disappointment, so xe didn't want to make anyone lower their expectations even further. ||

>> "...A new protagonist. A young woman."

>> "Something like a...a succubus..."

--> The words seemed to flow past xyr lips. Inspiration had struck! Xe had to write all this down! Then sketch it all out! This was absolutely great! Xyr fans wouldn't hate xem with this new material! Xe had to get back to xyr room right away! ||

--> Against better judgement, xe began to run. Fukawa wasn't fast at all, nor were xe good at running, but the actions just came without xem thinking about it at all. Xe went to turn a corner, and smacked right into a wall. Xe stumbled back before falling backwards. ||

>> "Gyaa..!"

--> Everything was spinning at this point. That was a really hard hit. Was Fukawa seeing stars, even? Surely whoever saw xem would make fun of xem. Of course. On xyr first day, something like this had to happen. Great, xe's already made a laughing stock of xemself. Good job. |☆|

#ic ;;#shsltsopen #little lotte thread #guess who's been listening to the phantom of the opera ost

The halls of the academy at night are ghostly, conspicuous in the absence of noise. Exit signs above doors leap out in the dark; trailing red, they burn brightly for no one.

But a single light remains on in a corner of the library. Secluded in the towering books, Tanaka flips a page in his notebook and begins a fresh line, pen scratching across the paper. He can't remember when the lights shut off, or how long he's been sitting here. The librarian hadn't thought to check for hidden students before shutting the door.

His table is littered with scraps of paper torn from his notebook, splatters of ink on his fingers. Unsure of the time, with only a sensation of it being incredibly late, Tanaka continues to fill the page to the very bottom, with cramped, small writing. He stifles a yawn. Only fools succumb to sleep, he thinks.

#ic;#shsltsopen #nuit;

A Little Warehouse on the Top of a Hill

There was a little warehouse on the top of a hill.... And words alone would give you imagery of a small warehouse in a serene atmosphere surrounded by grass and trees. But no, not Tsumiki Mikan's warehouse. Her little mechanic shop was crammed between many small, homemade warehouses and companies that bought and sold small parts and scrap metal. People rarely walked along the way to sightsee. There wasn't really much to see anyways. The asphalt on the road was the only thing not shabby about the entire district, and one would think, since Tsumiki's warehouse was on top of a hill, people would have difficulty getting up, and it wouldn't be good for business.

And they would be right. In this sort of place, there wasn't really much to commercialise. Large corporations buy parts from factories directly, and small offices wanting to buy small amounts of parts were miniscule. If there were any customers that these people received, they were those who wanted to sell them things, or buy all the scraps they owned to melt them down to nothing.

But, occasionally, there are those who become lost and had no choice but to rely on them, and that's when Tsumiki worked. The others around her acknowledged her to some extent. Her talent, at the very least, rumours of being able to fix literally everything circulating around the shop owners, and that was where such a respect ended, and that was more than enough for Tsumiki. And such a reputation wasn't bad at all. She was different from others. Such a place had no room for delicate machinery or clockwork, but she worked on them anyways. Because she knew, that deep down, they were like people. They could be fragile as glass and she would still work on them, careful not even to create a crack or a dent, and attempt to fix with what she had.

And perhaps, the next customer came to have something like that fixed, or perhaps they were simply passing by to ask about something. Regardless, (after a resounding crash from the back as she clumsily bumped her head on the edge of the table), she heard the bell chiming in front of the warehouse, and headed out to greet her customer the way she did to everyone. "H-Hello! How may I help you?"

#shsltsopen #ic

The Interrogation (open starter)

The detective stood at the window of the interrogation room, peering out above the school grounds pensively. Her silhouetted form was almost statuesque, both in physique and in the confident stillness of its stance. This would be a tough case to crack... Somebody had stolen Asahina Aoi's pencil case. And she sure as hell wasn't going to rest until she got her hands on the perpetrator. She chewed on the pencil in her mouth, her tanned face shining gold in the late afternoon light. Flecks of dust floated lazily through the solid beams of color filtering through the window shades. Here and there, a particle made its landing on her floor-length red trench coat.

The girl gave the space a once over. It wasn't actually an interrogation room, it was a classroom. And for that matter, it smelled somewhat like old, dusty paper. But Asahina liked to keep things on theme. Plus she didn't have access to a real interrogation room. She had even prepared the space for her guest. The worn desks were shoved haphazardly to the edges of the wide room, and the aged wood teacher's desk was positioned in the center, adorned with a desk lamp and accompanied by two rickety chairs. Asahina checked the room more thoroughly now, partially to make sure everything was in order, and partially to check for any bugs that might've been hidden there.

In her time, she had made her fair share of enemies. But she always kept one step ahead. Or she tried to, at least. Some of her enemies were really good at thinking ahead... That's why she kept her water gun close, and her physical fitness closer. Well, she would, if it were possible to judge the spatial positioning of an abstract concept like 'physical fitness'. At the very least she kept her water gun close.

Asahina had had enough run-ins with slack-jawed thugs to know that a good knowledge of how to crack skulls was important, and a good sidearm was perhaps even more so.

At the whine of the door creaking open, Asahina's hand flashed up to the holster under her right arm. She was in a compromising position... Crouched in front of a desk, with her back facing the interloper. She shouldn't have been so careless. In one motion she drew her sidearm, stood up, and spun to face the door.

#shsltsopen #open #ic

Standing in the wreckage of his torn-apart room, Tanaka was forced to conclude that his favourite pen had been sucked to the deepest abyss.