#haruka is soft spoken but silly?

[kurov1864]

Milgram idol au (pt.2)

001 Haruka:

He has that insecure, soft-spoken boy image. Usually dressed in very large, oversized and soft clothing, and rarely is his hair styled. Basically very soft and natural. It's only amplified by his kind and timid personality.

Fans love him because he's humble and gives loads of attention to them. He always thanks them a lot, posts hugging and (platonic) kissing gifs, and basically makes sure that no matter how much he stutters they know he loves and appreciates all of them.

His fans are also very protective of him. Like, if somebody tries to point out his stutter or make fun of him online, they would ruin their life. Sometimes it gets too out of hand though, like when somebody tried to give Haruka tips/questioned why he did a certain thing, they would try to cancel them too. And because Haruka is so appreciative of his fans, he feels really bad trying to stop or warn them. Usually Muu has to step in and scold them for him.

His fanbase and Muu has a sort of joking love-hate relationship. They're split on whether they love or hate Muu, because on one hand Muu really helps Haruka whenever he's having trouble expressing himself. On the other, Muu diverts attention from them to her. It's become a sort of silly competition at this point.

Vocalist. His voice is soft and delicate, slightly breathy as well. More on the higher-pitched side, he sings with a slight quiver in his voice. Usually has a lot of lines in more emotional songs, as well as those quiet parts since his voice can be strangely intense at times.

He doesn't dance. Like, at all. The most he does is some basic moves, but he generally does not dance. I mean, he can't even tie his shoelaces correctly, how'd you expect him to do all that choreography? He tries his best but he just can't seem to get his feet and hands to cooperate with him sometimes, and he forgets routines pretty easily.

Has gotten into a dating scandal with Muu, and there still are dating rumours surrounding them. People saw him and Muu, multiple times, with linked hands. But they mostly bother Muu about it since they didn't want to deal with Haruka's fans. Muu always gives them vague answers and Haruka doesn't help.

Signature move is putting one finger to his cheek and smiling at the camera. Yes I know this is a traditionally feminine move. Do I care? No. This is the best I can come up with using only one finger and still maintaining that innocence in his image. Also one finger because he's 01 :D

[docholligay]

Time and Tide

@amberlilly requested “Michiru realizing she loves Haruka.” This is me INTENSELY on my bullshit, and I hope you enjoy grabbing your closest dictionary, i got to use so many words I rarely get an opportunity to use, I love you Michiru. 

It is terribly odd how one’s life can change, and how you believe it to be in a single moment. But that isn’t how things happen, not really. It is only that in one single moment, you realize what has been true for some time. Love is not a strike of lighting, that is only true of fools and children. Love is the tide coming in, so slow and so sure that it hardly seems different from the last moment, and then you are underwater, awakened to the knowledge that the world is not as you last left it. That this harmless thing has come in and covered everything you knew. 

There is a fortress in France, where the tide runs in, and separates it from everything, and island unto itself, and this has been my experience of love. Perhaps a better person might be as a dock or some seaside restaurant, the water only filling the space that it was always meant to, and making it lovelier, but for me it has surrounded me fully. Such it is with all things that do not prepare for love to come, I suppose. 

Rest assured that any long philippic you might offer about the nature of my heart and all its empty and cavernous spaces is already quite known to me. I reflect on that now, so desperately loving her, knowing I do not deserve her. I look at her in the long, thin blades of moonlight that cross her body and know that I am owed every ounce of pain that my heart is served.

It wasn’t always this way. In the beginning, things were so much simpler. I am a spoilt child, and this has always been true, and I wanted her as one wants a doll or a pony. I am not accustomed to being defied, and I don't care for it. The moon had already given me my twenty lashes, and so it owed me a reward. If I was trapped in this fate, at least there would be a lovely bauble to call mine and mine alone. She was handsome, and she was tall, and she was bound to me whether she wanted to be or no. 

That was enough, then. I seduced her as I have plenty of other women, thinking only that she would be a lovely mark on my record, that her low breeding and total lack of polish would annoy my parents and give my friends a good laugh. She was slow to warm to me, of course, so shy and unsure in the ways of romance and seduction, even as she puffed her chest and played the big butch. 

Maybe that was the first moment, that first gentle lap of the tide, when she took off her shirt, and she trembled, and I saw how very inexperienced she was. Haruka. I knew I had said her name, before then, but that was the first time I had tasted it on my lips. Sweet as cream, delicate as rosewater. Unburdened of the layers she put on to protect herself form the world, she looked so vulnerable, so thin and bright, a string of spun sugar catching the light. I might have loved her in the first moment then. 

She loved me, certainly. Haruka would call it a curse, that she can give her love so easily, that affection touches her so deeply, that kind words write themselves upon the sand of her soul and struggle to stay as the waves of her own self-regard wash over them. She finds herself silly, I know, for her softness. I found her silly as well, I suppose, when she became besotted with me, while trying to hold herself at a distance, a dance for which she had neither the training nor the skill. I saw her immediately for what she was. 

I wish I could say this tempered me, that I found some humanity within myself where I did not wish to hurt her. It would be a lie, and I endeavor not, at the least, to lie to myself. I was pleased. Being raised in such penury, she would need me as much as she wanted me, once she became accustomed to all those finer things, I assured myself. I wanted her to be my lapdog, my toy, the clay upon which I could mold a splendid little thing for my own decoration and delight. 

I laugh at that girl, now. How foolish she was to believe she could be so near Haruka, and feel the weight of her love, and remain dry, and safe, and in control. You have never known a girl like this one, I would tell her. She is a beauty, and she will transform you, beast that you are, into something that can almost be called human. Something that can feel fear and pain, the very heart of love. 

Perhaps the tide of love came in at my ankles when she accompanied me to a gala, when she asked me to dance and waltzed, her frame beautiful, her feet light. When she beamed and told me she had found someone to teach her, and she’d been fixing up their car in exchange, and how she wanted to surprise me. She could learn how to be classy, she whispered into my ear, and she would do her best. Flowers slipped into a tiny bud vase, served alongside an evening glass of wine. Lovingly written billets-doux describing my hair and eyes and hands, artless and plain-spoken. That earnestness. What a cruel thing. 

But I was blind even then, to how I would come to love her. I have always thought myself intelligent, and perhaps this is a sign of my greater folly, to think myself so logical against the flood that comes for so many. Perhaps I can blame the moon even for this, for bringing me this vulnerability I for so long saw as peccant. 

Even now, it frightens me, to see how I love her. What a perfect little fool I’ve become, to love something that can be taken away. 

I am often asked, what made me love her, now that we have been together these few years, and I find myself ever at a ramble. I suppose I have not done much better here. I have outlined so many small things that drew me to her, little laps of water growing higher and higher, and I could outline a dozen more at the least, all in very florid and unnecessarily embellished prose. I am almost a Rococo caricature of myself, at times, and I suppose this is cross anyone who cares to read this will be forced to bear. 

But I can tell you when I realized that love. When I realized that life slips like water through one’s fingers, and that I could know fear. 

We were in some manner of battle. This, I know, begins so many of my stories, but it is impossible to take into account how many battles I have been in and chide me overmuch on the subject. We were in battle, and it was heated and difficult. Mina was on the ropes herself, and certainly you must know how irregular a moment it was for us all. She wanted to regroup, to rethink. She did not declare us beaten, for I cannot believe that Mina would ever draw breath and consider a battle she had not won finished, but we needed to take a moment and find our footing. 

Haruka hated herself nearly as much as she loved me. I am not certain this is the venue to describe all the ways in which she has struggled over the course of her life, trying to find a reason she was born. Perhaps it is enough to tell you that her own mother was unkind on the subject of her birth, and there was little in the way of anyone to dissuade her that it was true, and the improvident moon did not consider that such a girl might be the wrong one to put into danger. Handing her something to die for, to prove her goodness and worth by her willingness to be hurt, was always a foolish gamble. 

She did not wait. 

Haruka ran toward the enemy, even as Mina yelled her sign, and I was caught quite flat-footed. Haruka did little without my go-along, you must understand, and I was so arrogant as to assume that would always be true. That even in the heat of the moment, her deference  to me could overwhelm her desire to play the hero. None of us could catch her. She was determined to have the moment of surprise. 

I remember seeing her fall to the floor. I am, despite even my own protestations, not an unfeeling creature, and perhaps any of my comrades at arms, falling in such obvious pain, might have pulled at my heartstring. But I assure you it would not have caused the immediate flash of fear and pain, so like a dagger in my chest, sharp and cold, the very breath stolen from my lungs. For a few brief moments, I could not move. I was chilled by the knowledge of which I now had possession. 

I would die for her. Worse than that, I would kill for her, I would let every single soldier beside me, all the world, crumble to ash if it could spare her life. Haruka had found something to die for, but the moon had given me something to destroy for, and if it played the fool with Haruka it had done oh so much worse with me. 

I left the girls, then. I drew my dagger as if I were pulling it from my own chest and not the buckler that made up my mirror, and I did not look back. I heard Mina call my planet, too, curse me for my own special brand of cowardice. I cared not. Court-martial me, and put me to my death, but do not ask me to endure the loss of her. I had not known, before that moment, that I was such a fragile thing. That I could so easily be undone, the ice princess in the high tower brought low by the very idea of her plaything being wounded. Knowing that no longer was she the plaything, but the princess, and I her prince, her ardent defender, the Orpheous that would happily walk myself into Hell and Hades to be at her side. 

I may have made a miscalculation, but the enemy had, as well. For you see, I am a great and terrible opponent, when I have something to lose. It seems the enemy was as unknowing as myself, and they paid for it in blood. I never even noticed its death, too busy running to Haruka’s side. 

All’s well that ends well, I suppose. Mina barked something to me about orders, but she could only say so much when my great foolishness had won the day. It matters little how one wins the battle, so long as you win. Haruka was hurt, and angry that I had saved her, and touched that I had wanted to, and afraid that she could never be worthy of that desire. She said none of these things, of course, but she has no gift of emotional legerdemain, and I could read it all so clearly. 

I knew fear. I have never know how to express that fear. To say I am afraid she will die is too simple and easy, for we all hope our nearest ones will live. I am afraid of so much more than than that. I am afraid that she will die, and so will every good thing in me, that the tide of love will recede and all that will be left is the exposed shipwrecks of what I am underneath it all. 

And yet, here in the night, writing this for whoever might care to read when I am gone, I will tell you now: I would make this Faustian bargain again in one beat of my heart. 

Love has made me a fortress, cut off from the land, but it has given the fortress a thing to protect besides itself. It has given me purpose. 

It has made something inside of me alive.

[diedraechin]

Hey what do Alexei and Riku look like?

Ah, my Achilles heel.  Describing people in interesting ways. 

Alexei is just shy of Viktor’s height.  179ish.  So he’s taller than Yuuri, and basically on par with Viktor, though Viktor loves the extra cm he has on Alexei, he’d just never say it because Alexei is and always will be his idol.  Where Viktor is all long lines and slim, Alexei is stockier and broader in the chest.  He was a power skater, known for his jumps, but also had a bit of a flair for the dramatic and his programs were always memorable.   He’s cut his light to medium brown hair shorter now, but when he was skating, it was quite shaggy and distracted from his green-hazel eyes.

As for Riku, she’s incredibly petite.  She’s not much taller than Yuuri’s mother at 155cm (5′1) and much much shorter than her husband.  She’s slight in stature and was always described as a classic Japanese beauty when she was skating with her straight black hair and dark brown eyes.  She was never the most powerful skater, and wasn’t really known for her jumps, but her skating was always considered beautiful.  Her career as a skater was also relatively short.  She retired young, choosing to stop skating competitively so that she could enjoy being on the ice.  Her last couple of years on the ice she battled with immense back pain.

As a treat, have a little backstory on how they met.  (And some photo inspiration)

They both skated at the Salt Lake Olympics in 2002.  It was Alexei’s last Olympics and Riku’s one and only Olympics – they both won gold.  They didn’t really have anything to do with each other during the games, but at the end when all the Olympians were partying, the hockey player that Alexei had been rooming with and the snowboarder that Riku had been rooming with sort of hooked up and took over the room that Alexei was staying in… So he offered to walk Riku back to her room and they started talking and ended up sitting in the hallway outside her door for half the night.  Riku looked delicate and was soft spoken, but she was strong and opinionated and smart and Alexei was a bit smitten.

Alexei retired soon after and decided to go the ice show circuit.  He met Riku again in Tokyo when she came up from Osaka as a last minute replacement for another skater.  (She was attending Kansai Universiity at the time – in fact, just started).  This time, Alexei didn’t hesitate to get her number and asked her out for coffee.  After the ice show finished its international tour, Alexei, completely besotted, went and booked a vacation in Osaka…  The next time he went back to St Petersburg was to pack up all his belongings having already signed a lease on an apartment and found a couple young skaters to coach.  He also started taking Japanese classes.

Riku only found out about his moving when everything was official.  It was also the first time they kissed.  (Yes, he moved to another country for a woman he was only dating and never kissed – these Russian skaters are ridiculous) Oh, and she kissed him. ;)

Riku’s parents completely adore Alexei, and Alexei’s parents just find the whole situation charming and a little silly.  Kinda like their son.

(Alexei is um… Alexei Chadov HA! and Riku is Haruka Ayase)