#mizukos

i rly love you guys for this one!  -► development meme: accepting!!!

1. how does your character think of their father? what do they hate and love about him? what influence - literal or imagined - did the father have? as a young lad he grew up with the knowledge that his father was a great man, and that’s about it. he was a great man—had curly hair and a lovely smile. knew how to make everyone around him happy. he was quite like you. the orphanage director told him in a sweet, slow voice. and so that’s how he pictures him. a likable character. what olly doesn’t know (aside from why he left him) is that his father’s a lot more like him than he thinks. and he’s out there somewhere, still. growing up without a father didn’t have much of an influence on him. that’s what he thinks. but it’s impacted a lot of things in his life. like self esteem issues (a psychological thing—not knowing if he’s considered manly enough) and relationship issues (staying in toxic situations too long, having mostly female friends). 

2. their mother? how do they think of her? what do they hate? love? what influence - literal or imagined - did the mother have?he’s never met his real mum, and isn’t aware that she passed away due to some drug related incident. he thinks she’s just “missing” like his father. because her death isn’t exactly something to tell a young boy, right?  he was raised in a special sort of orphanage until he was ten years old, in which he called the director “ma”. this woman set the foundation of what he is today, basically, and trained him in piano. a small part of him believes that she’s his real mother. anyway, he was adopted by a piano teacher who filed through the children in search of one with musical talent. she’s a fairly strict woman, but not considered evil by any means. this woman taught him to be mannerly. and to correct his posture (which he only really does around her). 

3. brothers, sisters? who do they like? why? what do they despise about their siblings?not applicable.

4. what type of discipline was your character subjected to at home? strict? lenient?as i said before, his mother’s parenting approach was authoritarian. he was taught that obedience=love, so he’d always respect his mother’s wishes unconditionally. even if it meant that he’d have to practice piano for three hours before playing outside with his friends. because if his mother smiled, then he could be happy, too. and being adopted is a privilege, so he has to show that he’s the best boy he can be around her. again, he hasn’t thought about how this has affected him but its clearly made more shy with a significantly low self-esteem. these days, though, away from home he’s grown a bit more rebellious. being away from her makes him feel free. but he can’t shake the guilt that wracks his bones. 

Deep ass sentence starters

It was strange for Takeshi to intake alcohol. He never found it exciting or arousing to do. It was something that only happened on rare occasions like when he had to attend an ally’s dinner party or when Gokudera dragged him and Tsuna to the bars. He was always careful around alcohol. He found it displeasing to do. He was perpetually a carefree kind of guy. He didn’t need alcohol to make him feel braver. but when he did intake alcohol, he found himself drowned in thoughts that were a bit too profound for his tastes. 

by V.S. Naipaul (pg 153) mizukos​

Sitting beneath a tree while bent over a text book seemed to be a common theme for the college student as finals quickly approached and he was left studying beneath the shade. The heat had cause pinpricks of sweat to appear at the collar of his shirt and his temples, but he didn’t mind it. It was relaxing to find himself away from the claustrophobic clutter of his mother’s shop and the buzzing coffee shops he tended to visit. He didn’t need the internet to drill math facts into his head, he just needed the quiet calm of nature and the sweet breeze that sifted its fingers through his hair and brought him relief. 

After sitting bent over for far too long, the young man decided it was a time for a break as he leaned back against the trunk of his tree, looking up long enough to see a woman coming through with a camera, pausing at the flowering bushes to take pictures. The thought brought a smile to Hyuk’s lips but it twitched away as he looked past her towards the shadows that seemed to linger a bit longer behind her, a tiny bit darker. After living with his gift for years, he knew not to ignore such signs, but most people knew of their demons, especially when they were thicker and denser than most. Whoever that woman was, she was dangerous or different. 

One year, six months and five days.

One year, six months and five days had gone by ever since she had been _appointed _to Korea in search for the branch of the biggest Japanese yakuza in Seoul and yet she still had little to no clue with her. She had found a number of illegal immigrants from Japan, most of them wielding guns and had ended a few lives interrogating them yet much to her dismay, none of them talked about the gang, or claimed that they knew no thing about them. 

Bodies buried in the mountains, hand soaked with their blood and clothes coated with mud, Sayaka knew that killing criminals instead of simply putting them behind bars was against the law as well, but she was just doing her job -- protecting people from despicable Japanese lawbreakers. Korean criminals, although they are all around her as she’s currently in Seoul, Sayaka had no care of. She was only in the country for one thing, and one thing only: to find the biggest Japanese crime syndicate there and that, she swore to do.

Someday, all of her sins will catch up with her, she knew and if not put in death row, then she would be the one standing behind metallic bars instead, put in prison for her whole life but until then, she sees no reason to stop. She needed to move faster now, however. To think further as to how she was supposed to catch the darn yakuza lest she wished to get caught before she could even shoot the branch’s leader and end their legacy in Korea.

Two o’clock in the afternoon, in a fairly deserted park filled with green grass and colorful flower, she took a break from her search; cigarette already lit, hanging between her lips as she looked around the place while ignoring all the other people there. Or so she tried, until a flash forces her to squint her eyes and furrow her brows, only making her look all the more grumpier than she already does. She moved the stick in her mouth with her teeth, waving it up and down as she turned to the artificial light’s source to find a girl there, standing with a camera in her hand. 

( sms : 312-5624 ) I should be asking the same. I think our phones have been switched.

( sms : 312-5624 ) I’m sorry.. Who is this?

[ sms to : 312-3456 ] This is Kim Jongin? 

ℳ : A Playlist Inspired By You

His cell phone is the only bright spot in the darkness of his room. It vibrates incessantly, demanding to be heard. And he ignores it. The number that flashes is one he’s only recently gotten to know, but he already dislikes it.

Once the movement ceases, there’s a short followup vibration to let him know that he has a voicemail. Well.

The recording is of a woman’s voice, confident but perhaps a little begrudging. A snapshot of this afternoon flashes in his mind and he frowns. Funny - he hadn’t expected anything to come of the exchange.

He catches the word “sorry” and it strikes a chord. The light dims as he deletes the message and closes the app. Sure you are. Sorry is a platitude that he’s grown far too tired of. If you were really sorry...

Lips almost form a scowl as his attention turns to the window and he tries to figure out what he’s going to do with this information. He’s going to have to see her eventually, now that she’s returned. But he could put it off indefinitely if he wanted to.

His thumbs slide over the screen.

Retrieving a slim mobile device from his book bag, a sequence of numbers, known all too well, were punched in and within a split second the send key as well. 

Ring .. ring .. ring .. voice mail. 

“Ah yes, the usual scenario.” Such a comment was muffled just below a whisper, enough to conceal it from those surrounding. Over the past semester it’d become custom for Theo to be in charge of waking up Jade, as alarm clocks never seemed to cut it - needless to say it was a difficult task. Alas the phone call amounted to nothing and after placing an order for two tall drinks accompanied by muffins, he opted for text messaging.