#starchiko

[noctalaethra]

ㅤㅤ. ݁₊ ⊹ .𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔 ݁ ㅤ 「ㅤ@starchikoㅤ」ㅤㅤpresented a perspective: ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ⤷ㅤYou need to eat. I don't care if you're not hungry.

The command evokes a blinking of butterfly lashes.ㅤPausing midway through removing the gloves fitting her hands,ㅤgaze lifting slowly towards the other beneath dim lightningㅤ—ㅤa countenance unreadable at first,ㅤthough something stirs beneath the surface once realization settles in.ㅤWorry.ㅤUnfortunate.

❛❛ㅤㅤDo you think I have a bad habit of forgettingㅤ.ᐣㅤㅤ❜❜ㅤㅤA murmur,ㅤthough the defense lacks any real sharpness behind it.ㅤThe untouched tea gone cold beside scattered paperwork already betrays the femme of rosé hair.ㅤExhaustion has long replaced appetite more nights than she cares to admit.ㅤCrystal's fingertips still in the blink of an eye against the dark fabric before she exhales,ㅤthe smallest trace of reluctant amusement touching the features of her expression once ended.ㅤㅤ❛❛ㅤㅤThough I suppose we both know you would not be saying otherwise.ㅤㅤ❜❜​​​​​​ㅤㅤThere's a mixture of something strange,ㅤintimate,ㅤabout being cared for in such ordinary way.ㅤSomeone noticing the slow neglect of basic needs,ㅤrefusing to permit it all.ㅤViolence has been a better understanding than tenderness,ㅤwhich perhaps explains why concern like this always unsettles the young woman more deeply than threats ever would.

❛❛ㅤㅤFine.ㅤI'll eat something.ㅤThough you hovering nearby like an irritated guarding spirit while I do so feels unnecessarily humiliatingㅤㅤ...ㅤㅤThank you.ㅤㅤ❜❜ㅤㅤ

[rosewiltd]

❛   ▌┊𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑 :   sachiko ( @starchiko ) .

❝ i-i am not sure i could do it. i do not like having my picture taken... ❞

[crimestruck]

"can you remember who you were?" / this one for mr aoki!

pinterest prompts / accepting !

🗡          — it wasn't a question of if he remembered , for his mind never let him forget. even after decades his memory remained crystal clear , never once clouded by doubt or confusion. both a blessing and a curse. though , the real question was whether his body remembered. there was something unshakeable about aoki and his nature , his consistent position to care for those at the centre of his orbit. ever changing , yet always the same. it was only his reflexes that shifted , his ability to do more and to what extent. as a child he m=, nor anyone , would have pegged him as someone who would grow into having such blood on their hands. the military had been a gateway to violence , no matter how controlled the damage was still the same. especially once he ended up in Ichiro's hands.

“ i never changed , sachiko. just my circumstances. ” he replies calmly , a minor smile curling at the corner of his lips as he watched the curiosity shine in her eyes. “ but that's nothing for you to concern yourself about. ” he was naturally dismissive as he wasn't the one to be cared for , always the other way around. he understood why ichiro was so drawn to her and why he had clung to the ghost of her for all these years.

@starchiko ; sachiko !

[undvine]

practice was on - going on the field, though at this very moment the players could free - form it, meaning the coach wasn't watching their every move with dedicated precision. a simple warm - up, some playfighting, some joking around before they'd have to commit once again to their rigorous training schedule. matteo was silently stretching, the chatter of his teammembers a pleasant buzz but not one that could sufficiently distract him. until ... the buzz seemed to pick up, some low chuckles and somewhere he could hear: there's matteo's biggest fan.

it was almost comical the way the athlete snapped his head upwards, loose bangs dancing along with the sudden movement until they rested easily against temple. like a bright light becoming even brighter does the appearance of sachiko make itself known, she stands close to the bleachers, far enough that she wouldn't disturb the field but close enough for matteo to see that familiar sparkle in her eyes. he feels one of his friends pat him on the back before pushing him forward. go on, she's here for you, you know. go before coach gets annoying about it. matteo rolls his eyes at them but starts to jog towards @starchiko regardless. as if he could ignore her. as if.

when he finally comes to a stop, gloved hand runs through pale locks, trying to slick them back one more. gaze is lowered, towering body looming over her and casting his shadow across the brightness of her sun. ❝ ... you know how coach is and you know-- ❞ that's all that slips from lips because she doesn't wait, seemingly too excited to see him and show him something. which is why the athlete merely sighs, brows furrowed slightly, playing with his helmet. dark eyes follow the journey of her hand, frown becoming deeper until the 'surprise gift' was presented to him: that earned a slow blink of his eyes. huh ? oh. oh. and there it was, the soft groan and hand came up towards face to hide the embarrassed expression that soon spread along it, like waves kissing the sand. ❝ you're insufferable. ❞ is eventually muttered but he does give her a playful tap upon the tip of her nose.

❝ if you want to watch me practice go sit at your favorite spot. ❞ another tap on her nose before fingers grab her chin, tilting her head further upwards. ❝ but don't distract me, kojima. ❞ he lowers own face towards her but whatever he was planning to do is thwarted for the impatient voice of his coach is booming across the field. another time. with one last look at her does he turn around, a half - smile is offered ( or something close to it ) before he runs back on the field. it was going to be a good practice. he could feel it.

a letter, send unprompted, ready to be opened: “ mattie, mattieeeee, look … i have something for you! ” lithe fingers theatrically dug deep into the pocket of her coat and then ever so slowly, she slowly brought them out. at the end of her hand were two digits slightly overlapped with each other, while the others were folded inwards, forming a finger heart for the athlete ♡ / matteo college verse 🥹

[wantdawn]

♡

incoming message ... @starchiko. accepted!

●●●●○ | ATTRACTION ●●○○○ | AFFECTION ●●●●● | INTEREST ●●●○○ | LOYALTY ●●●○○ | TRUST

[pexfections]

❛ you know, this isn’t my first time in china. i visited here when i was a teenager with my papa. i recall watching gorgeous ballet performance in this splendid hall with all of these mesmerizing dancers ! but one in particular caught my attention . . . he was a boy who danced with such precision yet moved as graceful as a swan. he had snow white hair and quite the fair height. i thought he was cute and dashing hehe, but i envied him since he was already standing on a grand stage when we were just about the same age! haaa, i wonder how that boy is doing now. ❜ do you still perform like you used to ? i wonder … do you still remember me?

​` 𖥔 ݁₊ 𐔌 . ⋮ with    their    two    countries    in    such    close    proximity,    the    confession    causes    nothing    more    than    a    mere    hum    of    acknowledgment    —    a    quiet    acceptance    rather    than    any    real    surprise.    his    attention    still    partly    fixed    on    the    ongoing    dissembling    of    the    set    they'd    been    posing    on    minutes    ago,    watching    crew    members    weave    between    scattered    equipment    as    the    illusion    is    stripped.    a    day    full    of    work,    like    most    were,    like    they'll    always    be . . .    she's    an    actor,    not    a    model,    but    she's    done    an    excellent    job,    earning    praise    all    day.    even    from    the    photographer    that    had    scolded    nice    last    time,    grumbling    that    he    seems    unauthentic,    picking    apart    every    expression    and    movement . . .   were    it    not    for    miss    juan    quickly    stepping    in    and    ushering    the    man    away,    he'd    have    broken    that    camera    that    man    called    his    life's    pride…    good    thing    that    hadn't    happened,    considering    how    the    brunette    beamed    under    his    broken    japanese    words,    her    smile    bright    enough    to    soften    the    lingering    irritation    still    tucked    beneath    his    skin.

it's    when    she    mentions    the    ballet    that    crystalline    hues    glance    down,    her    own    eyes    still    set    on    lights    being    disassembled.    years    upon    years    poured    into    dance,    recitals    before    school    on    cold    winter    mornings    and    class    after    when    the    scorching    days    seemed    to    stretch    on.    countless    hours    spent    perfecting    movements,    every    ache    and    bruise    felt    as    natural    as    breathing.    a    life    no    longer    his    to    continue.

her    shoulder    bumps    his,    he    smiles    despite    himself.    those    years    truly    felt    like    they    belonged    to    someone    else . . .    were    it    his    parents    or    his    younger    self,    or    perhaps    the    audience    of    hundreds    at    each    show.    nice    was    unsure.

❛❛    must    have    had    very    expensive    seats,    being    able    to    see    him    that    closely    ❜❜    the    words    arrive    as    a    quiet    musing,    touched    by    faint    amusement.    they    were    the    same    back    then    —    two    teens    craving    fame,    wanting    something    more    and    looking    towards    those    that    already    had    it.    standing    at    the    edge    of    their    own    ambitions    and    imagining    the    lives    that    seemed    so    effortlessly    out    of    reach.    now    they    shared    such    similar    spotlights    and    couldn't    be    more    different.    she    still    loved    it    all,    capable    of    basking    in    every    flash    of    attention,    while    nice . . .    he    still    tries    to.    or    at    least    convinces    himself    that    he    does.    ❛❛    they    retire    young,    ballerinas.    i    doubt    anyone    on    that    stage    is    still    performing . . .    so    i'd    say    your    career    aged    better    ❜❜

[sangsorrow]

( @starchiko / s.c. )

he's happy this label didn't do too much of a detailed background check on him. he imagined this would have been more difficult, but given just how corrupt the industry, and the world in general, is, based on past observations, ivan supposes he's not too surprised that skill overshadows the past. they'd called it talent, but— he opted to disagree, and showed that modest, humble persona that spoke of his success being nothing but hard work and honed skill.

technically, he wasn't lying. it was just the delivery that was spiced up for this interaction in specific.

still, it wasn't exactly a locale he was used to or even enjoyed. he remembered his shitty excuse of a father dragging him along to similar-looking events when he was younger. wasn't something like this supposed to be his future? he ran from this. why is he back?

money is the reason.

as he idles around the place, he wonders if the money is worth all this trouble. after all, he was doing just fine on his own. and he's still not fully confident in how to navigate these scenes. but maybe that's exactly why he should stick to this. it'll be good practise for the future.

it's the banquet table that interests him. he looks over the offered food, and, well. is this all really okay to take? anything beyond the bread won't be easy to hide if he needs to upon discovering that it was, in fact, not free for taking. so he opts for the bread that's on the side— one slice, quickly eaten, then another, slower, and a third to keep for later.

[memokeeper]

[TXT] : no really it's fine.

[ TXT » little miss perfect ] (¬_¬)

[ TXT » little miss perfect ] blah blah blah blah

[ TXT » little miss perfect ] assert yourself or i'll do it for you. and i think that producer would probably prefer it from you than me ~