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@anirnator​​ (MITARAIKUN!) is here to join the fun—! ...though there really isn’t much “fun” going on yet. — ☼ ☼ ☼

          “mitaraikun, mitaraikun~” she says in a sing-song voice, as if she’s actually in the mood to be acting this playful. it’s been a tiring day, in all honesty, and mitarai’s bored expression does nothing to console her. nevertheless, she’ll give it a go— that’s right, kokone. straighten your spine, put some pep in your step~ anything to get a positive reaction from the recluse boy she shouldn’t even be friends with. we aren’t friends though. —unimportant, unimportant. big smile now, a-one, a-two, and a...

           “i heard hope’s peak is doing its scouting soon! are you excited..?                         rumor has it that you’re in a pretty nifty position! i’m a little envious...!”

the last bit is simply a teasing remark, in case her smile didn’t make it obvious enough. the first bit though, was slightly genuine, but not entirely. he’s talented, it’s undeniable, but ... if hope’s peak really wants an elitist loner than him, she’d be surprised. ah, well. who’s she to judge anyway...? this is just small-talk, after all. just her, his fellow acquaintance, trying to cheer up him, her fellow acquaintance.

                                   innocent, meaningless small-talk.                                                                  ...and yet it feels like such a chore.

**EDITING CREDITS: MAIZNO without her help, i would have brought great shame to my Great Many followers who await my Great Many posts, and my Great Many family of five(5), who all sit besides me as i .. slowly but surely .. type out each roleplay post present on this blog, their eyes following my every move, my every keystroke, waiting—(are you exciting?)

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there is a slight chance that deep down, kokone is an awful person. even now, sitting next to HIM, feeling nothing but pure apprehension swelling within her, she knows the truth is clear: she is awful.

she wishes the air was lighter. it’s chilly, & although winter is her favorite season, this atmosphere is eerie in spring. it is unwelcome, & it does not fit in. it’s just like her.

she tugs her coat ever so slightly, trying to trap in more of its warmth. part of her is longing for the bus to hurry up and reach their stop, but the other part of her wishes it just NEVER COMES. moments of peace like this... quiet moments, no matter how eerie the quiet is... she finds comfort in times like this.

he is a good person. there is no doubt about that; although she is an awful human being, he remains uncorrupted by her ways. she admires him, she really does. she likes how his dark hair sweeps over his forehead, stopping just above his eyelids, and she enjoys seeing him run his hand through them whenever he is stressed. she also likes how his eyebrows knit when he is stressed, how he fidgets with his fingers, and bites at his lower lip. she likes how his eyes darken – as if thinking of brutal, cutting, deep things to say – and how he tries to hide it before anyone can notice. of course, she is the only one to notice.

stress looks good on him; she has thought about this a few times, wondering whether or not such a fascination could be seen as sadistic. it probably could be, but she does not mind. after all, she has already come to terms with her awfulness.

a breeze comes by, & it sends a visible shiver down her spine. she pulls her jacket a little closer; he, on the other hand, doesn’t move at all. he said summer was his favorite time of year, so seeing him unfazed by the weather is a bit perplexing. she had hoped to see his eyebrows knit again – or perhaps see him wince or groan – but he does nothing to indulge her. he’s so still & quiet, and once again, kokone feels as if they are worlds apart.

she can’t read him the way she used to. his eyes are fixated on something that remains naked to her eyes. that’s how it’s been for the past few days: him – full of depth, able to see and feel things that she could never see or feel, a good person through-and-through; her – the shallow nobody.

a few words come to mind, & she contemplates breaking the silence by letting them slip. she could try to say something nice, throw a compliment or two his way to see how he reacts. or her words can be cruel & curt. mundane, too. knowing her, she could think of a number of ordinary things to say – things that would not hold much weight now or ever, things like comments on the weather or his appearance or his hair or his stress or...

“The bus is here.” “Oh.”

                 ...or maybe she can just look forward, & say nothing at all.                  (            deep down, she really is an awful person.            )

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baby came home || the neighbourhood

said she needs time to explore she said i can’t love her no more

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AN arrow of love, straight through the heart, who would have thought this "love" would be painful..?

but darling for you, i'll persevere. i'll be strong, i'll be patient, i'll be everything you want me to be. because darling, for you, i'll persevere.

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a thousand years // christina perri

i have died every day waiting for you darling, don’t be afraid, i have loved you for a thousand years i’ll love you for a thousand more

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「丘で待つわ。」

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...lovesickness, huh?

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everyone please simmer down

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 "…Ah, right. Of course."

        Gold was pretty, yes, but he had a good point. Pink was also a good color. Orange, too. And red. And...—there is a chance that she would go on for days and days thinking about colors, but that would be silly, wouldn't it? A real "waste of a day." How do you know what a waste of a day is anyway though...?

        Standing was being to feel tiresome — well, not tiresome. Just... out of place? If someone was sitting and you wished to converse freely with them, shouldn't you be seated as well...? But it was probably too late to sit now — a waste of a day, a waste of an opportunity, oho.. So many things, all gone to waste——

         She looked at him again. He's ... a pretty thoughtful person, huh? Either that or she was boring him. The latter seemed likely. Most guys didn't seem to like open discussions about flowers. And yet for some reason, she found herself wrapped around his words.

                                 "...I think that would be a nice touch to it. First flower, first place — gold is a first place color." It is a hasty observation — probably irrelevant and baseless, but it felt like something worth saying. It was better than silence, aha... At least this acknowledged his point.

                                                        "...wait, is that a weird thing to say...?"

"Huh…so I see."

An unexpectedly flat response left him abnormally quiet when he returns to the flowers to stare at them yet again. Not a single urge tugged at his side to joke or smile, laugh or stand. His focus had lost track of time; the reality he was wrapped in to him could be flexed and manipulated by his mind. Yet real-time was crude and yields to no one’s favour. The time he had spent thinking to himself had left a long pause between himself and the other. To the point where he had nearly disconnected himself completely from a conversation he should have tended to Len had snapped back just in time. His sudden blinking becoming the key to his partial awakening.              "Purple’s a pretty color, too. So is white. Pink, orange, and peach." It wasn’t really much for additional conversation he’ll admit in retrospect. His train of thoughts had just lost him with questions departing freely at the mouth. Undoubtedly whether he knew them or not the colors he added were also more shades those chrysanthemums would take on.             "Maybe the first flower was gold,               then later developed into plenty others.”

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she is a 'left-brained' & introverted and somewhat bitter about it. her mbti fluctuates a bit, but the most recent result is istj. she isn't too great at personality tests. in fact, she often finds herself resentful about the results, promising herself that they are inaccurate or that she had answered one or two questions incorrectly. she is not the best at understanding herself, but she tries to anyway. most of the time, she just wants to be someone other than herself.

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She is love - Parachute

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kawazu by tyotyorip

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Let’s turn around for our next love, like the way adults would and forget this all together

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she is a fan of k-pop.