hello! class is done and I am now requesting to know everything your willing to share on your thoughts abt your oc with rabbit symbolism please? thank you
okay, so i’m still planning a lot about her out because i’ve been in a creative slump lately. her name is sohee kim. she’s a lil bit pygmalion and galatea, a lil bit rpg mad father, a lil bit run rabbit by mollie elizabeth and the disappearing girl by mollie elizabeth and marble arch by erin lecourt.
i don’t know if she’s going to stay fandomless or get adapted into an oc for a show/movie. she’s a revamp of an old(-ish) oc, seri han, who’s overall idea i think would make for a fun powered/mutant au.
i’ve got three ideas for her father’s experiments:
1. her father experimented on her to slow and then stop her aging.
2. the above + she’s a ‘successful’ clone created from her mother’s stolen dna. her father experimented first on the other clones before using the perfected serum on her. (in the solely-above version, he experimented first on kidnapped homeless women).
3. she was a regular girl, then her father turned her into a cyborg ‘doll’ to keep her ‘young and beautiful’. (think bjds or battle angel alita's movie doll body when not being 'concealed').
either way, sohee doesn’t know about these experiments.
now for the stuff i have figured out about sohee:
her paternal family runs a major conglomerate, but her father is the ‘black sheep’ of the family. he’s the third of four children. his parents didn’t want to give him a major role in their companies, so he has a role more in title only. when sohee was old enough, she started part-time modelling for their cosmetic+fashion division but she doesn't have a real passion for it.
she’s never met her mother. her father lied and told sohee that her mother didn’t want her and she had no reason not to believe him. in reality, her father tried to kill her mother, but was unsuccessful (which he doesn't know and thinks she's dead). her mother has been trying to reach her and also expose her father, but hasn't had any luck yet.
her father was very strict with her growing up. she wasn’t allowed to do certain things and her diet was extremely regulated. as a result, she grew up fairly sheltered, but she's not naive, she's smarter than people give her credit for. her father also insisted on humility; he is obsessed with her beauty, but he doesn't want her to be vain. she is a bit of a snob though when not preforming for and around her father.
she wanted to do ballet when she was younger but her father said ‘ballerinas have ugly feet’ and wouldn’t allow it. she eventually wore him down into letting her do figure skating.
her father doesn’t care much if she’s smart, he only cares about her physical looks and showing her off. he practically never acknowledges her achievements unless someone else brings them up first, and even then he’s dismissive.
she’s very good at chess. she also enjoys logic puzzle games like minesweeper and nonograms and tetris, and rhythm games. she plays mainly phone games, but i think she’d also get a lot of use out of a handheld system like a switch or a steamdeck. she'd probably make a good streamer, using GALAT3A as her username.
her favourite sanrio character is marroncream, quickly followed by my melody and bonbonribbon. she loves pink and red.
she doesn't have any real friends. she was quite popular in school, but her 'friends' were more interested in her for the prestige than actually interested in who she was as a person, and the boys were only attracted to her looks. the closest person she has to a friend is her only female cousin, but she doesn't get along as well with her male cousins.
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post-borderland niramaki~ dropping my ‘maki calling niragi ‘su’ when they’re dating’ agenda~~
wordcount: ~1500
It’s late in the night and only getting later.
Maki rolls one way, then the other. Ruffles the sheets around, kicking her feet against the folds of the blankets, feeling the cooler parts slide over her ankles and chill her toes. It would be annoying - if there was anyone else in the bed to be annoyed by her moving around. She flops over onto her back, slipping into the middle of the bed as she stretches her arms out either side of her. Blinking, she stares up at the ceiling. It should be completely dark, but there’s a sliver of light shining under the door, making the shadows stretch, slinking beneath the bed.
The sheets are expensive and soft. Maki knows why, because Niragi’s been sensitive ever since the meteor. She’d listen to him complain once, on one of his bad days, about how shitty and scratchy the sheets at the hospital had been, that they’d been almost worse than the hospital gowns and how he’d wanted to claw his skin off every day he’d been there. He’d been curled up on the couch, his head laid in her lap, the closest he could stand to get to her with how oversensitive his scars were. She’d gently run her fingers through his hair, watched his hands as he massaged his thumbs over his palms.
Sighing, she rolls further onto Niragi’s side of the bed. She could never justify buying something like this, soft silky sheets with matching pillow cases. Her money always had other places to go; the rent, the things that needed fixing around her’s and Morizono’s place, food, Nori had only added to the expenses too with vet bills and her own food; the only small pleasures she allows herself is her books and the occasional treat, sometimes a slightly-pricey perfume that smells like jasmine when her bottle runs out. Niragi’s bed is a luxury in comparison to her own.
She presses her face into his pillow and breathes in deeply. His scent lingers there, clinging. The subtle whisper of his cologne - something black cherry and nutty - and his shampoo. She wraps her arms around the pillow, pulling it closer to her, hugging it to her chest, her face still buried in it. A quiet sigh leaves her, huffed into the smooth fabric. It’s not enough, a cheap imitation for what she could have.
Niragi’s working. He’s been working since she came over this afternoon. She’d barely been able to drag him away from his computer for long enough to eat dinner with her. Other days, she’d admire his focus and drive, but tonight all she can think is that she’s lonely in this bed. If she strains her ears, she thinks she’d be able to hear the tip-tap of his keyboard. The rapid frustrated tap-tap-tap of the backspace when something is wrong and needs to be fixed.
She pulls down the pillow, peering over it at the clock on the bedside table.
It’s far too late for him to still be working, she thinks. He’s still got to go into work tomorrow. So does she. At this rate, they’ll both be overtired come morning. He needs sleep more than she does. She can slack off at work in a way that he can’t. She doesn’t have pains that get exacerbated by exhaustion like he does. Even with his medication, she knows he’s pushing it, running himself thin.
Dropping the pillow back into place, she rolls out of bed, flinching slightly as her bare feet touch the cold floor. She brushes her hair back from her face, padding towards the door and pulling it open, stepping out into the hallway. Her steps are quiet on the floor as she heads towards where Niragi is working. She pulls the edge of her shirt over her bare thighs. It’s one of Niragi’s. Silky and soft and smelling like him just like his bed does. It hangs too big on her, the sleeves long and hanging over her hands where she curls her fingers in the unbuttoned cuffs.
Niragi sits hunched over at his desk. His long fingers move quickly over the keys, the room aloud with the sound of the constant tapping and the shush of the mouse across the desk. She stands and just stares him for a moment. His dark hair has been pulled up, gathered in a knot, some strands falling loose. His jaw is tight and his glasses have slipped down his nose, the glow of the laptop glints of the lenses. His eyes intense in their focus on the screen. He’s still pretty, even now. He’s always pretty.
She steps closer to him, stops behind his chair. Reaching out, she runs her fingers along the tense line of his shoulders, trailing over his chest as she wraps her arms around him. She leans in, presses a kiss to the back of his neck, feeling the bumps of his spine against her lips. He shifts, sitting up a little straighter, his hands finally pausing on the keys.
“Maki? I thought you were sleeping,” he says. His voice sounds a little rough from lack of use. No doubt he hasn’t been drinking anything either all this time, probably hasn’t since she slipped a water glass onto his desk before she’d gone to bed.
She hums quietly against his neck. He leans back against her, reaching a hand up to brush his fingers over the back of her hand. She tucks her face against his neck, a quiet whine escaping her. He leans his temple against her crown. His thumb smooths against her knuckles, his touch is slightly cool.
“Su,” she mumbles, “Come to bed.”
He sighs, squeezes her hands.
‘I’ve got to get this finished.”
She whinges against his neck, curling her fingers into his shirt, the buttons digging into her palm. Pulling back, she sets her chin on his shoulder, meeting his gaze. There’s a pout on her mouth. His hand moves to brush the backs of his fingers against her freckled cheek.
“Don’t make me sleep alone.”
“I won’t be that much longer.”
“It’s past midnight, Su.”
He blinks, seeming surprised by that fact.
“Is it?” He looks back to his screen, squinting as he checks the tiny clock in the bottom corner. “I didn’t … it’s that late already?”
“Yes.” Her fingers fiddle with one of the buttons of his shirt, “So come to bed with me.”
His gaze flickers over the screen of his computer. The glow shines on his face. His eyes are stinging from overuse, they have been for at least the last hour - maybe longer, since he hadn’t even realised the time. He hadn’t been planning to work so long. It’s different from how it was then. Before the meteor incident, he’d spend full nights working into the dawn only to chug coffee before working all day. He’d been the best worker in his office, not that anyone cared or even thought to acknowledge it.
Now … now, Maki is here. Her arms around him. Asking him to come to bed.
He stares at the line of code, the light of the screen burning into his bleary eyes. The muddied vision of his right eye is worsening by the minute, and his wrists and fingers are both stiff and throbbing with dull aches. He’s sure he’ll wake up in a world of pain that not even his meds will properly numb. He can’t work like he used to, not with the injuries he’d sustained, not with how those same injuries are still affecting him.
It’s just busy work. Scraps tossed his way after all his own projects had been given away to coworkers in his medical absence. He doesn’t even want to think about how they’re likely messing it up.
He reaches up, saving the work he’s done that night and shutting down his work computer, closing the screen over the keyboard. Maki’s leaned her face back against her neck. He can feel the curve of her smile, the cat that got the cream.
She steps aside to let him push his chair back from the desk, her fingers trailing up and over his shoulders. He turns the chair towards her and finds her offering her hand out to him. Her expression is soft, her gaze warm, but she looks tired.
With a tired smile, he takes her hand, lets her pull him up from his chair.
They leave the office together, Niragi clicks the light off. As if she’d always lived there with him, Maki finds her way easily through the dark to his room.
There’s only the dim glow from the bedside clock as they finally get into bed. Shuffling the blankets around as they get comfortable, Maki cuddles up against his side, her arm falling across his stomach, her fingers curling against his hip. Laid on his back, he wraps an arm around her shoulder, tracing his fingertips over the soft curve of her shoulder and down her bicep. She’s brings with her a familiar warmth that seeps into him.
Within minutes, he finds himself drifting off. They breathe together, the pulses of their heartbeats a rhythmic thumping, keeping time with each other.
[ 09 ] sender comes to receiver with an injury in a location they cannot easily reach. + dreaming in blue!
time for pre-relationship niramaki with the pining~~
wordcount: ~2000
Niragi feels like the air has been knocked out of him.
Probably because it has. He’s lying flat on his back, staring at the sky full of twinkling stars, the bright hazy glow of the lights from the game shining in his periphery. The other player who had smashed right into him and toppled them both down this solid concrete-and-gravel-stone slope is lying beside him in the underpass, breathing heavily. Niragi wheezes a pained breath.
There’s the sound of a few tumbling stones as someone steps to edge of the slope above him.
“Niragi,” calls the familiar monotone voice.
“Ugh,” Niragi groans, “Fuck you. That tackle was so meant for you.”
“You should’ve dodged,” Last Boss replies, his voice raspy.
Another figure steps up to the edge of the scarp beside Last Boss, tall and broad-shouldered. Niragi doesn’t need to be able to see his face to know he’s irritated, if not also disappointed.
“If you’re not dead, hurry up and get back up here,” Aguni orders, “The game’s almost over.”
Niragi groans again, pressing a stinging hand to his face. So much for ever impressing Aguni. Slowly, he sits up, his body aching. He feels a chill against his shoulder and frowns. Reaching a hand over, he can feel the torn edge of his shirt, the upper part of back panel ripped at the seam-line. He curses under his breath.
Shifting, he feels the familiar feeling of gravel prickling at his skin, sticking in shallow wounds. Fuck. Gravel rash. It had been bad enough when it was just in his hands and knees when he was getting shoved around by his bullies, he has no clue how he’s going to deal with it on his back.
Still sitting, he picks a particularly sharp rock out of the heel of his hand, then tosses it aside. His palms are bleeding from various pinprick-sized wounds and a pretty bad scrape on his left hand. Getting to his feet, his body pangs with pain. As he wrings out his arm, he feels a twinge in his elbow. He takes a look, finding his shirt ripped there too, his elbow weeping blood. On top of being ripped, the fabric is now stained too.
With a huff, he glances around, trying to see where his rifle had skittered off to. As he’s stepping around the attacking player, a red laser strikes down, zapping through the man’s skull. Niragi grimaces, looking at him. The game must be over then, and his own team has won. He kicks at the body while passing by, snatching his rifle up from the ground.
Finding his way back up, he slumps his way back towards the car. The rest of his team - Aguni, Last Boss, and a trio of other militants - are always waiting there for him. One of the other militants snickers.
“Jeez, Niragi. Was that hill made of barbed wire?” he jokes.
“Fuck off, Kanaya,” Niragi snaps back.
Kanaya huffs another short laugh, stepping quickly out of the way as Niragi stomps towards the car. He yanks open the passenger side door, slamming it shut after he hops in, ignoring the way his body aches and stings.
Niragi feels no better as they finally pull into a car park in the Beach’s garage. Stepping out of the car, he trudges on towards the doors inside, following after Aguni. The 'militant leader' doesn’t wait in line, of course, so the other returned teams step aside as they approach. Maki sits behind her usual desk, head perking up as she notices the line halting and shifting.
She looks tired, as she often does nowadays, but she smiles as her brother approaches. Then her gaze shifts past him to Niragi and concern flickers into her eyes.
“Niragi, what happened?” she asks as she takes the cards from Aguni.
“It’s noth—”
“He fell down an underpass,” Last Boss answers.
“Come on, man,” Niragi grumbles, shooting a sharp glare at him. He looks back at Maki, “I was tackled down an underpass.”
“That’s not better,” she replies, disconcert still lining her features.
“It’s fine. I just need a shower.”
Maki frowns at him.
“Well, if you’re sure …”
He just nods, stepping away from the desk to head towards the nearest elevator. Taking it up to the ninth floor, he stretches his neck one way then the other, trying to ease the aching. Walking down the executive floor’s hall, he heads to his room, putting his rifle aside onto a chest of drawers. He kick his shoes off at the end of the short entry hall, then turns around to head into his bathroom.
Flipping on the bathroom light, he steps in front of the mirror and finally gets a chance to look at himself. He’s a mess. Blood and dirt covered. His shirt’s ripped. Dark strands of his hair has slipped from his hairtie, hanging stringily around his face.
He huffs, pulling the hairband out and running his fingers through his hair.
Getting in the shower, he spends minutes trying the angle the water just the right way to dislodge any stray stones still stuck in his back where he can’t reach them himself. Eventually he gives up, at least assured that he hasn’t got any blood or dirt still on him.
Stepping out of the shower, he dries himself off and wraps the towel around his hips. Turning, he tries to look at his back in the steamed-up mirror. There’s no way he’ll be able to patch up the worse parts by himself. If he just puts on another shirt or lays down in bed, he’s just going to end up spreading blood around or getting stuck to his shirt or sheets. Like hell is going to go see Ann and ask for her help, but Maki …
If Maki is in her room now, maybe he can ask her.
It’s at least a good excuse to see her.
Dressing his lower half, he pulls the towel around his shoulders and grabs a new shirt out of his closet. He cracks his door open, peeking out to see if anyone is around. When he sees no one, he steps out, walking to Maki’s door, the room beside his own. He brushes his hair back from his face, then knocks on the door.
There’s a quiet rustling side, then the sound of softly padding footsteps as she approaches the door. Maki opens the door. She’s got a book in hand, using her thumb as a temporary bookmark. As her eyes land on him and the bareness of his skin that show through the part in his towel, he sees her quickly blink then redirect her gaze towards his face.
“Niragi, is everything okay?” she asks.
“It’s my back. It got scraped up in the whole …” He makes a motion with his hand, grimacing. “Could you take a look at it for me?”
“Of course, come in.”
She opens the door wider and he steps in. Her room is tidy, with small touches that make it her own, like the button-up shirt she’s taken off hanging over the back of the armchair and the small stack of books on her bedside table and the stash of chocolates on her coffee table. She closes the door behind him, motioning him further into the room. Her scuffed shoes are on the ground at the end of her bed. She steps past him to pick a small rectangular scrap of paper off the bedside table, tucking it into her book and putting it down on the stack.
“Here, sit down, let me have a look,” she says.
He sits sidesaddle on the couch, sliding the towel off and folding it in his lap along with his shirt. She steps up behind him, taking a seat on the arm of her touch. Carefully, she reaches out, her fingertips touching to his spine, running along the edge of a patch of gravel rash. Her hands are warm.
She tuts quietly, then stands, stepping aside to grab something. He glances back as she sits down, seeing her setting a small medical kit in her lap and unzipping it. Her gaze is downturned and focused as she picks through it, pulling things out and balancing them on her thigh. The kit is familiar, it’s the one from her office. A small smile tugs at his mouth. Had she been expecting him? Or just hoping he would ask for her help?
He turns his gaze away again as she looks up, gently dabbing something onto the scrapes. There’s a slight sting, but he’s had worse so he just sits patiently as she works. She lays down pads over what she must consider the worst of the grazes, paper-taping the edges down and smoothing the tape with soft strokes of her thumb.
“There,” she says, tracing a fingertip along the edge of the gauze, “If it starts feeling hot or hurting any worse, come see me - or, you know, Ann.”
“Right. Thanks,” he replies, feeling a tingle down his spine at her touch.
He feels her hand touch his bicep just above his scraped elbow, then she’s moving around, getting up to sit down in front of him on the couch. She sets the kit between them and holds her hands out to him, her palms up. He looks at her hands for a moment, then looks back to her face.
“Show me your hands. You hurt them too, right? And your elbow?”
He nods, then sets his hands into her’s, the points of his knuckles cradled in her warm palms. Lifting his hands closer to her face, she hums quietly as she examines them. Softly, she rubs her thumb against his palm, next to the raw graze. His gaze is focused on her, the small pout on her lips, the concerned little scrunch of her brows. She’s cute.
Her eyes flick up to meet his. Her expression lightens.
“Haven’t I told you to be careful?” she says, a touch joking.
He huffs lightly, a smile quirking to his mouth.
“It was supposed to be Last Boss getting tackled,” he replies, “I didn’t know he was going to dodge it.”
She just shakes her head, looking back down to his hands, dabbing ointment onto the scrape. His fingers twitch against the sting. She sticks a plaster over the wound, smoothing down the edges. Lifting his hand, she turns it one way then the other, checking it. Pausing, a small smile twitches onto her face and she sets their hands back onto her lap. Gaze still downturned, she runs her fingertip over the beaded bracelet on his wrist.
“You’re still wearing this,” she says softly.
“Of course,” he replies.
That promise, it’s something worth holding on to. The only true hope worth clinging to around here. If there was any chance they could get home, whether through Hatter’s plan or something else, then he’d wear it until then. Until he could see her again in reality, without the lingering cloak of death looming over them.
Her fingers trace over his palm, drawing mindless nonsense spiralling nothing. There’s a tingling left in the wake of her featherlight touch. He stares at her, at the way the light catches on her face, the spray of freckles on her cheeks, the softness of her expression. He could kiss her now, couldn’t he? Why shouldn’t he, when she looks so sweet, when she’s so close?
Her gaze is still down on their hands. He starts to leans in —
“You should go get some sleep,” she says.
Right. She’s not his, even if he wants her to be.
At least it doesn’t seem like she’d noticed him leaning in. She looks up to meet his gaze, smiles lightly with a small tilt of her head, then takes her hands back to herself. He catches her prodding at her ring with her thumb. That nervous little habit of her’s.
“Try sleeping on your front or your side. To keep pressure off your back, you know?” she suggests.
He tries to keep his disappointment from seeming evident, just smiles and nods, wetting his tongue across his bottom lip. Moving to stand, he pulls his shirt on, doing a few of the buttons up. He picks up his towel, hanging it over his uninjured shoulder.
[ 02 ] sender comes to receiver for help with a wound they swore they could take care of alone. + dreaming in blue!
i got inspired for teen!maki and young adult!mori so … this. also technically an injury and not a ‘wound’, but anyway~~ all of these were supposed to be super short drabble-y length but instead i’m getting back into the art of the 1-2k word shortfic.
word count: ~1500.
Limping her way home, her school bag hanging off her shoulder, Maki can’t help but feel defeated.
Every step on her left foot sends a thrum of pain up her calf. The bus stop isn’t close to home and she has no choice but to walk the rest of the way after slumping her way off the afternoon bus. Well, there is one other option, but she refuses to call her brother. It’s bad enough that she’ll be walking into the belly of the beast of his worry as soon as she gets home and he sees her limping.
She grits her teeth against a particularly sharp twinge of pain as she steps on an uneven part of the sidewalk, her ankle turning. Stopping for a moment, she leans down to pluck at the hem of her sock, tugging it up over the swelling. Since tripping, she hasn’t looked too closely at it. She’s never broken a bone, but she’s sure it’s not that bad. It’s likely she wouldn’t be able to walk on it if it was. She’ll wait until she’s home and can take her shoe off.
Turning, she limps up the short path up to home’s front door.
It’s late in the afternoon, she can see through the window that the lights are on in the living room. So she’s got no chance of sneaking in without Morizono noticing her. Taking a breath, she pushes open the door, stopping in the genkan to sit and take her shoes off. She drops her bag to the side, the tugs on the laces off her shoes. Her right one is easy to push off and toss into the space in the row of other removed shoes.
The left shoe is not as easy.
It’s obvious before she even removes her shoe that her ankle is quite badly swollen. She grimaces. Carefully wiggling her shoe off, she tosses it over to join the other, then stands, stretching an hand out to the wall and keeping her weight on the toes of her left foot.
She has to pass by the doorway to the living room to get to her room. Quietly huffing, she starts to move. She doesn’t get more than a step past the middle of the doorway before she hears her brother’s voice.
“Maki?”
She looks sideways through the doorway, not quite meeting his gaze as she glances around the room instead. Danma sits on the couch with Morizono. There’s a wad of cash on the coffee table, along with some empty take-out food containers, dirtied plates and glasses, and a couple empty cans of beer that she knows are Danma’s and not her brother’s.
Morizono’s brow creases in concern.
“What happened? Are you okay?” he asks, moving to stand.
She holds up a hand to stop him from getting up, but she’s sure she must look like a mess. Her hair’s loosened in her ponytail from both her running and the fall, one of her elbows has been stinging so she guesses she must’ve scraped it like she has the heel of her palm.
“I’m fine,” she replies.
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
He doesn’t seem convinced but she just keeps walking, heading down the hall to her room and closing the door behind her.
Flipping the light on, she moves to sit on the edge of her bed, exhaling quietly in relief. Pulling her socks off, she winces. Her ankle is red and bruised and swollen, veins spiderwebbing over her foot. She prods a thumb at the point of her ankle and hisses through her teeth.
Suddenly struck by the realisation that she doesn’t know what she’s supposed to do, she just sits there, her foot hovering off the side of her bed.
Back when it was her brother in high school and getting into fights, he’d been a real 'rub some dirt on it' type of guy - at least for himself, he always took it more seriously when it was her. He’d shrug off bruises, just wash cuts and leave them until they scabbed over.
Well, if she doesn’t know what to do about her ankle, she can at least clean herself up. Slipping out of her room, she plods carefully down the hall to the bathroom. She close the door and sits herself down on the edge of the tub. Stretching out, she flicks the tap on, a gush of water splashing into the sink. She grabs a cloth hanging by the sink and wets it. Wiping over her scraped palm, she bites back pained sounds, her expression twitching. Elbow ‘s next. It’s bloody, and the scrape’s been dripping down the backside of her forearm apparently her entire bus ride and walk home.
Sighing, she drops the bloodied cloth into the in-desperate-need-of-emptying clothes basket. Maybe a bath would help.
After almost an hour, when she’s all pruny and the water’s getting cold, she finally gets out. Stepping out of the tub, she dries off, then wraps the towel around herself and limps back out of the bathroom to her bedroom. Her ankle’s still aching and throbbing as she sits down on her bed to redress herself. Sliding her glasses back on, she sighs quietly. Her eyes flick towards the door. She wonders if Danma’s still here or if she has her brother back to herself.
Her stomach rumbles. She hasn’t eaten since lunch and after track team training, she’s starving. It’s past dinner time now.
Getting up, she leaves her room, quietly padding down towards the kitchen. She pauses in the doorway, seeing Morizono washing up. The beer cans have been crushed, ready to be tossed in recycling. Seeming to feel being watched, Morizono glances back over his shoulder at her.
“You hungry?” he asks, “Danma brought dinner. There’s yakitori. It’s in the fridge, you’ll have to heat it up.”
She can tell he’s trying hard not to ask again about what had happened, an apparent result of her bid for independence. He pats his hands dry on a cloth, then wrings it in his hands, twisting it over his knuckles. Limping into the room, she props a hand against the table to lean herself on.
Finally, she relents, “Help me?”
He breathes a sigh of relief, turning fully to her.
“What happened?” he asks again.
“I tripped during track,” she replies, “My ankle …”
He ushers her towards the closest chair, hanging up the drying cloth on the hook.
“Sit down, let me see,” he says.
She drops into the seat and Morizono sits across from her, a quick pat on his knee to tell her to kick her foot up. Shuffling on her seat, she lifts her foot and he meets her halfway, carefully cupping her achilles’ heel in his palm. He winces sympathetically.
“You walked home on this? You should’ve called me,” he chastises.
She shrugs, scratching at the old wood of the table, avoiding his eye.
“I didn’t want you to baby me,” she mumbles.
Morizono huffs a laugh.
“You’re my sister. I’m always gonna 'baby' you.”
Maki frowns.
“I’m sixteen, Mori.”
“You’ll always be my little sister, no matter how old you get.”
Maki just goes quiet then. Morizono carefully smooths his fingers over the swelling of her ankle, his thumb sliding in a circle around the point, feeling out the bones. She tries not to flinch away, taking a deep breath. Her toes twitch. He hums quietly, looking down at the swelling.
“It doesn’t seem broken, so you just sit there and we’ll ice it while you eat,” he says, “You’ll need to keep it propped up while you sleep and, if it’s still swollen and hurting by morning, I’ll wrap it for you before school.”
He shifts her foot aside, setting it on the chair as he stands. Walking past her, he leaves out the side doorway to the living room, snagging a cushion from the couch before walking back to her. He lifts her foot, tucking the cushion underneath it. Turning, he heads to the fridge, picking out the yakitori and a bowl of leftover rice. He moves the skewers to a plate, then sticking it in the microwave to heat them up. The microwave quietly hums.
Stepping back toward the fridge-freezer, he opens it and digs around for an ice pack. He crunches the pack in his hands then grabs the drying cloth and wraps it around the pack. Stepping back towards her, he sets the wrapped pack down on her ankle. It’s cold even through the cloth, making her twitch.
She keeps picking at a dented scratch in the wood of the table. Morizono steps back towards the fridge, pulling the door open, grabbing something out and then sliding it across the table to her. She glances up, reaching out for the can of soda.
“Thank you, Mori,” she says softly, obviously for more than just the soda.
hello! i would like to hear abt ur tr ocs if you would like to share!
thank you for asking, i love to yap!! okay, so first of all, i'm doing what i did with my dib and mashing together the different mediums, so i'm smooshing together the live action and the anime and maybe the manga if i end up buying it - all that to say, i'm using the live action ages, so takemichi travels back 10 years instead of 12, so they're all two years older than the manga/anime (16/17 instead of 14/15).
first of all, seika chantana thanawat who is a major rehaul of renna. mainly a draken ship, but she has a Thing™ going on with hanma. she's extremely quiet, not talking much at all as a result of the abuse she's been subjected to by her mother. it was her father's choice to move to japan early in his marriage and her mother followed because she was so blindly in love with him; her mother hadn't originally wanted children but had seika because her husband wanted kids. seika's dad died when seika was eight, leaving her mother with a child she hadn't wanted and stuck in a country she hadn't wanted to live in but now couldn't afford to leave. her mother turned to alcohol and eventually the indifference she felt for seika became disdain became physical abuse when seika was ~10.
seika took to staying away from home when she could to avoid her mother. at night, she typically wanders around the city or finds something to do, like buying snacks from convenience stores, going to internet cafes/karaoke bars, or just finding somewhere she can sit alone. she meets the main quintet of the toman gang at the muashi shrine when she's 12. they're initially a little abrasive because they view her as 'imposing on their space', but after running into her a few more times, they start to warm up to her. draken finds out about the abuse and ends up becoming quite protective of her.
seika meets hanma after the august 3rd fight in september, not knowing about his connection to the now-disbanded moebius. she steps in to pay for his late-night-snacks (which he usually would've just stolen but he's trying to stay on the owner's good side because they've always got the best stuff). she thinks nothing of it, just wanting him to get out of the way so she could pay for her own stuff, but he recognises her from the 8/3 fight. he plans to get close to her to try and bleed information about toman, but later gets kind of 'attached'.
she and emma don't really get along. emma has a tad bit of jealousy towards her because of the attention she gets from draken and considers her a 'rival'. seika just ignores it. they get along better in a group setting, but one-on-one, they're awkward to say the least.
quick facts: all of her accessories are star-themed and usually silver. she loves sweets, especially lollipops, konpeito, and ice cream. she can play guitar. singing is the only time she's not borderline mute. she likes making paper stars. she has a lip piercing (labret, wears a ring), it was juria's idea.
juria baji, who is a much-less-major revamp of rumika. still a kazutora ship, it's mainly just a change of faceclaim. she's baji's year-younger sister. when they were younger, he frequently tried to pawn her off on emma because they were the same age. unfortunately, juri always wanted to do whatever her brother was doing. she was a huge crybaby as a little kid but (mostly) grew out of it in her teen years and became a bit of a hothead. kazutora's always had a bit of a soft spot for her, telling baji to take it easier on her, but baji insists he's 'being tricked' and that she's a 'brat'.
when kazutora gets out of juvie, juri wants to see him but he gets caught up in valhalla and baji tells her to stay away. kazutora keeps an eye on her from a distance and she eventually catches him alone. her naivety kind of comes out here because she 'just wants everything to go back to how it was' but kazutora is too caught up in blaming mikey and wanting to kill him. after bloody halloween, she goes to see him in juvie with draken.
after her brother's death and kazutora's getting sent back to juvie, juri starts to spiral out of control, acting out and frequently getting into trouble. she ends up getting close with chifuyu since he feels like he has to protect her in baji's stead.
quick facts: she loves pink, every single shade. seika and juri do their hair together, juri is more skilled at the dyeing. she's a big fashion fan and likes to explore subcultures, her own style is very eccentric. she wants seika, emma, hina, and yuzuha to start a sukeban with her to rival toman but all decline (emma and hina don't fight, seika and yuzuha can fight but aren't interested).
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Each step drags as he walks along, stumbling through the abandoned streets. He trips on cracks in the concrete. His shoulders are hunched in, his arms hanging loosely and swinging at his sides. He pants and huffs, groans of pain wheezing past his dry lips.
— book 2 of dreaming in blue.
for every "🌹" received in my inbox i'll post one random sentence of a random wip i'm currently writing.
He finds Maki by the door, shoes already on, holding his jacket and rubbing the fabric between her fingers. She seems to have a favour for it, he’s caught her trying to wear it before, but it’s huge on her.
— teen!aguni, kid!maki flashback oneshot.
for every "🌹" received in my inbox i'll post one random sentence of a random wip i'm currently writing.
