case in point.
A habitual rule-breaker. But coming from you, that means a lot. Thanks.
I appreciate the feedback.
As for the stories, part of me digs the mundane-ness but it’s also a weakness. Sometimes I feel like the flow just lingers on. My dislike of over-exhaustive plotting (and the word plot itself) doesn’t help. But thank you.
Guess I’ll have to get to those pre-P3 Shinjiro drabbles sooner rather than later. Mucho gracyass.
Right back at you, darling.
SOMEONE GET THIS HOTHEAD OUTTA HERE!
I try not to inundate the blog with too many images, as I want the writing/interactions to be the sole focus. But drabbles? That I can do.
What would you like to see more of on my blog? Send me the symbol!
You’d like to see more..
▼ - …-more canon images
▲ - …fanart
♒ - …roleplay posts
✎ - …drabbles/fanfictions
✉ - …asks&answers
☁ - …headcanons
☼ - …OOC-ness
♡ - …about the mun
✔ - You’re doing fine: I like your blog the way it is
( ojou-sama )
Making her frustrations known, it was a very rare sight indeed to see a flustered Mitsuru. Thankfully everyone sans Shinjiro and Koromaru had stayed behind for the group outing. The red-head having an excuse to avoid the group with plenty of time to sort out things personally and education with a little side of SEES responsibilities—it was hectic to say the least. This time was far from relaxing.
Exhaustion and fatigue were getting to her, despite her outer appearance being impeccable as always. A trait whether or not she wanted to uphold had a standard to meet and it was her duty to achieve such—along with help of a maid or two. For days on end, thoughts of a certain brown-haired man who kept coming back into her mind.
Why? This simple question was one that she could not answer. She couldn’t understand it herself. As analytical as Mitsuru Kirijo was, she couldn’t find a solution to a seemingly easy question and she hated that. All thoughts of anything else would be overshadowed by him and throw her off. Her major frustration was named Shinjiro Aragaki.
The tea that had accompanied her grew cold over the dining table—undrinkable and unappealing. Papers were neatly ordered in stacks in front of her but her mind clearly in another place. Shinjiro had walked in seemingly uninterested in her work and it just happened. A decent ‘glare’ with ruby red lips uttering the frustrations to the unknowing man who responded appropriately. Confusion. This was something that was very uncharacteristical to Mitsuru. She wouldn’t just do this—there is always a first.
Her gaze lasted but just a few more seconds before looking down at her papers—visibly more distraught than what she had wanted to demonstrate. “…Please excuse me Aragaki—I wished to test myself. For a moment, I thought I might have lost my French.” Because giving the lamest excuse ever would be enough to get him to leave.
Losing your French? Like, words sprouting legs and taking a red-eye flight? Where would they go? A cozy enclave on the outskirts of Paris? But her French isn’t like Frenchy French. Only French. The kind of French people speak to come off as bookish. Rudimentary, fragmented French. Dinner party French. Trying to get a promotion French. The list went on inside his head.
She should’ve been thankful. After all, he was the one that found her missing language, dangling in the doldrums of their conversation. Of course, knowing exactly who he was dealing with, any forms of gratitude would consist of little more than a nod and a terse thank you.
In other words, typical Mitsuru.
“I suppose that makes me your subject, then.” He took a sip of his chamomile tea, made from scratch. Hot sugar and honey seared down his throat, coagulating his stomach with a warm, fuzzy feeling like an abandoned sweater redolent with mothball residue. Perhaps his stomach wasn’t the only thing running amok.
It began in the not-so-distant past. The juniors and Akihiko were out, haven taken Koromaru for a walk at the shrine. Why all of them decided to go together was beyond him. He didn’t particularly care. They did steal him from spending time with the dog, but he got over it in quick succession as Mitsuru also remained at the dorm. She was leafing through a booklet of test questions—she and Akihiko were graduating soon. Two out of three wasn’t so bad, Shinjiro mused, staying mum as to avoid interrupting her studies. She insisted that it wasn’t problematic, that the Kirijo Group owned the school, that she could offer an ear to an old friend.
Silence then lapsed over their brief exchange, realizing the mistake of giving the other too much rope. Wordlessly they vowed never to do it again.
Any interactions since were limited to sparse words, maintaining their defenses, as they were castles of the most fortified degree. Their walls contained water, warm water surrounded by a membrane in the form of bricks. They needed that kind of safeguard from the world, set in its ways to harm them, to buckle their souls in eternal submission. But on that evening, similar to the one not-so-distantly before, their walls came tumbling down.
And that frustrated him.
“…what else were you going to say?” In French he meant to add, mind like a television on the fritz. He was completely pathetic.
is there one event or happening your character would like to erase from their past? why?
October 4, 2007. The still image of a mangled body will haunt him for several lifetimes to come. And the son that loved what used to be his mother, his cries the aria which puncture away at his soul. Reversing the flow of time on that moment, he couldn’t; he wouldn’t. Misery builds character and his angst, oceans deep, defines him more than words ever could.
A far less traumatizing moment (though still an episode itself) was his first execution. He forgets why Mitsuru felt the need to encase Akihiko and himself in blocks of ice, but she did and years later, he can still feel the bitter cold shivering down his spine. Akihiko spent the next month having nightmares: a gargantuan Mitsuru impaling him with icicles the size of Antarctica. Naturally, he slept with Shinjiro until the dreams subsided.
“She wouldn’t stop coming” indeed.