#Hopefully we get more eclipse in the future somehow | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

komahinasecretexchange · 5 years ago

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Title: Limit Break

Author: @magioftheseas

For: @yndr4hope / @ahvia

Rating/Warnings: E (it’s smutty and overly complicated; some mentions of blood being drawn on accident)

Prompt: komaeda has newly been accepted to hopes peak and is still unsure of his talent’s worth to the school. he decides to test its limits by fooling around in a public space with the reserve course boy who’s always looking at him when they pass each other in the courtyard.

Author’s notes: I really meant to pick the fluffier prompt but I ended up with this instead likely in part due to me wanting to revisit Scum’s Wish. Arghhhhhh. I still tried my best. These two definitely have that kind of relationship that’s both pretty good all things considered while still not being…all that great. If I continued it, it would’ve gotten really depressing. Probably. Hopefully you like it. I’m always up for these two disasters in disastrous love so I definitely enjoyed writing this, at least.

“You say you don’t deserve to be here, but you don’t exactly see yourself as the same as everyone else, do you? Your luck, despite how you downplay it, still sets you apart from others. Am I wrong?”

“I…”

“Komaeda-kun, there isn’t a doubt in my mind that there’s something special about you.”

“But… I…”

“Because of that—you match the qualifications. And we would be honored if you allowed yourself this.”

Honored. What a funny word to use.

Right now, the former class president was giving much the same speech as before. About how they would shape the future, about how they were the seeds of hope. About how they had a shining path before them, about how they would lead the world—and about how their own selves would be irrevocably changed for the more splendid. More sublime.

“With all that said… Welcome to Hope’s Peak Academy!”

There was the round of applause, Komaeda joining in as he trembled, hands so clammy that even his claps didn’t sound quite right.

Wrong. Wrong.

There was so much talent, so much hope surrounding him that he could’ve drowned then and there.

I don’t belong here. There’s just no way.

He was still quivering as the other students dispersed. Several of them were striking up conversations with one another. Others were laughing. Someone barreled into Komaeda’s back and knocked him down. Whoever it was kept skipping on ahead, and he was left ignored. That was better.

“Oh my! Are you alright?”

Komaeda flinched, eyes wide and skittish as they rose to meet the worried gaze of someone so dazzling that he could barely keep himself from scuttling away like the cockroach he was.

“I… I’m fine. Please, someone like me doesn’t deserve…” He waved his hand, denying the one offered to him. Oh he couldn’t even dare—especially when his own was so disgusting, so sweaty. “I’m really fine, haha…!”

He hurriedly pushed himself up.

“Please, um…” He tugs up the hood of his well-worn green jacket. It does not provide nearly as much shelter from such brilliance as he had hoped. “Please don’t mind me.”

“If you say so… Please do be more careful from now on.”

The beautiful person turns on her heel and heads forward. Then and there, Komaeda realizes who he spoke to was an actual princess, and he nearly collapses again.

An insignificant speck like me…in a place like this…

He felt like abject filth.

–

Even standing before the gate, he feels at a complete loss. Other students are brushing past him, and even the slightest brush of contact is causing him to shiver.

Disgusting. Disgusting. Disgusting. Someone like me… Someone like me…

Enough people have filtered by that he stands there alone. His knees are shaking. He swallows, staring past the gate, eyes wide.

Someone like me…stepping into such a distinguished place…

“Are you…alright?”

Komaeda nearly jumped but once he turned, his expression shifted into something strange. He blinks, once twice, at the frowning person before him. That frown deepened, twitching and twisting.

“It’s just,” the words are spoken slowly. “You look like…you’re about to faint…”

There’s a slight breeze. It’s bright out. But any and all light is sucked away into that pure black uniform.

“Oh.” Komaeda blinks again, once, twice. “You’re from the reserve course, aren’t you?”

The reserve stiffens, head quickly ducking as if to avoid Komaeda’s inquiring eyes.

Is he ashamed? I suppose he should be. Still… He…

“Hey…”

“I see you’re fine.” He’s cut off quick enough to experience whiplash. The reserve isn’t looking at him directly, but he’s tense. All over. “That’s good. That’s great. You should hurry on ahead, then. Bye.”

And just like that, the reserve scurried off. Like a scared rodent.

No—more akin to a mere bug. Someone like this at Hope’s Peak Academy… Haaah.

Well, he can’t really let himself be bested by a reserve while wearing the Hope’s Peak uniform, so Komaeda does step forward. He nearly stumbles but somehow, someway, he does retain his balance.

Haha.

–

The first day goes in a blur. His classmates give their introductions with varying levels of enthusiasm. When Komaeda spoke, stammering and rambling about what it honor it was, how wonderful it was, how incredible—he received discomfited stares that were all too familiar. He sits down, laughs self-deprecatingly, and tries not to divert his gaze from the emitting annoyance of certain classmates.

The teacher isn’t terribly invested in his fumbling, unsurprisingly. And once the air settles, it’s not long before the class disbands to go do their own varied activities. Some of them remain to chat, one of them just so happens to be the one who had checked on him before—but thankfully, she’s distracted by the other girls.

Komaeda sits, he watches, but when one gives him a look of utter disgust, he ends up standing and quickly leaving.

I really, really am a blight on this place. Aah, what to do.

He ends up going for a stroll. As undeserving as he is, he can’t help but at least want to indulge in getting to tour the school that held the world’s admiration.

The campus size is considerable, and had increased even more recently. Supposedly due to the funding provided by the newly established reserve course.

The reserve course.

The reserve course existed on the other side of campus. The west district, specifically. He had no real interest in going there, even as he did see the building, acknowledging it with his lips pulled into a straight line.

Those who think they can compensate for greatness with funds are pathetic, for lack of a better word. But if that funding is to Hope’s Peak benefit…can I really complain that much? Especially when someone like me is allowed to be here due to meager lowly luck.

He shakes his head, turning his gaze back to the main building as he continues walking. It stands tall and proud, eclipsing the sun. Such radiance. He really wasn’t worthy at all.

What can someone like me even provide at all? Ah, if I am to be a stepping stone, then…shouldn’t I push the others further?

He passes by the statue honoring Kamukura Izuru, the school’s founder. He stares upon it, admires it, and can’t help but smile.

“Aha… Haha… I really shouldn’t bother them. Someone like me—in this kind of setting—I really would only get in the way.”

He sighs, turning on his heel to head the other direction.

“What am I even doing…seriously…?”

He walks and he walks. His legs are starting to hurt considerably so he needs to find a place to sit. He makes his way to the courtyard to take shelter under the trees, off the beaten path so that he wouldn’t be too much of an eyesore. His feet are throbbing so he squeezes them thoughtlessly.

It’s calm. It’s serene. A bird is making its nest. It’s so peaceful that he could fall asleep and never wake up. How unlucky that would be.

He finds his eyes starting to droop anyway.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

“…uh?”

Komaeda’s eyes flicker open. A familiar frowning face greets him.

How truly unlucky.

“Reserve-san,” Komaeda greeted drearily. “You again.”

“I have a name,” the reserve retorts, unimpressed. “What are you doing? You’re hiding—almost in the bushes. It’s weird.”

“I fail to see how that concerns you,” Komaeda yawns. “I’ve been walking around…so I’m tired. That’s all it is.” He rubs at his eyes. “Hey, why are you bothering me? Are reserves so desperate for attention that they’ll bother main course students minding their own business? I’m not much of an elite, I’ll have you know.”

“T-That’s not…!” The reserve got flustered. A steaming chestnut, with sharp, shimmering hazel eyes. Actually rather good-looking, if a bit unbearably average. Komaeda blinked up at him innocently and those cheeks only burned hotter. “I was just curious! You look weird! And what do you mean not much of an elite anyway?”

Before Komaeda could answer, the reserve grumbled to himself, clearly agitated.

“If you have a talent, shouldn’t you just be happy about that?”

Ah. So that’s how it is.

“You really are so presumptuous!” He sprung to his feet. “My happiness is as insignificant as it can be! More to that—those with talent shine because of their promise. The hope that they’re sure to bring. To diminish such splendor into mere matters of selfish sentimentalities of satisfaction and gratification—so simple-minded! But what can I expect from a reserve?”

Someone riding on the coattails of Hope’s Peak in order to solidify their own menial successes…if not to partake in a farce of self-aggrandizement… Yes, someone like this isn’t worth even my time.

And yet, he just shuffles his feet uncomfortably, and he notes that the reserve looks both stung and frustrated.

“I… That’s not what I…”

Someone like this isn’t worth even my time.

“Someone like me doesn’t even deserve to be here,” he ends up saying. “I didn’t pay anything, and here I am, using up their resources and breathing their air… How could I possibly be happy about that?”

“E… Excuse me?”

Of course the reserve didn’t understand.

Of course the presumptuous, impertinent reserve didn’t understand.

“Never mind. I shouldn’t have said all that. Ha. Ha. Anyway. If you want to approach elites in the future, well, I most certainly would prefer that you didn’t do that, but… You should at least be drawn to those who are worthy. When it’s someone like me, it’s just a pathetic look for both of us.”

“I… I don’t understand,” the reserve stammers. “You, uh, you just—started rambling and I have no idea what you’re on about…”

Of course you don’t.

Exhausted, Komaeda plopped back down and wrapped his arms around his knees.

“You’re so tiring. Leave me alone. Or is that too complicated, too?”

The reserve clicked his tongue in annoyance.

“Geez, you don’t need to be a pompous jerk about it. Fine. I’ll go. I can get that much.”

Pompous… Komaeda peeked to watch the other turn and walk away. What a word to say…

The other does turn back briefly, and he hurriedly snaps his eyes forward before Komaeda could blink.

What a strange, strange person.

–

He ends up skipping class. It’s better that way because his classmates are surely more comfortable in his absence, and well—truth be told, it’s an old habit of his anyway. Back then, with his luck and with everyone else’s disdain, skipping was an obvious choice.

But he still feels deeply unfitting no matter where it goes and it’s starting to make him itch as is bugs were crawling all over his skin.

Filthy. Filthy.

He reads in the library for a bit. There’s not much else to do. He definitely enjoys being there. There are all sorts of novels written by past Ultimates, several of them feel so weighty that he nearly drops them on his foot. He reads and they bring him to so many tears that he ends up exhausted.

This should be like a dream…but it really is terrifying…

He gets flashes of the shelves toppling over. Of windows breaking. Of people crying out. He decides against checking anything out because he would hate it if something happened.

Disgusting. Disgusting.

He rubs at his arms, and he feels—frustrated. Unbelievably frustrated. So much so that a vile idea strikes him.

Seriously?

Seriously.

He’s crossing through the main plaza. There are a couple of other people here. He recognizes one of his classmates in fact. He’s quick to duck somewhere unseen. The last thing he wants is to spoil such a shining face. Especially when he’s in such a wretched mood.

The dorms aren’t far from here. Even someone as weak and worthless as you can make it.

And yet, he remains where he is as if entrapped.

What are you going to do if someone sees you? Aren’t you despicable enough with just your presence?

His mind was racing with such thoughts and he still couldn’t bring himself to budge. He sucks in his breath. He shakily inhales. He feels itchy. Frustrated.

Wound up.

He’s trembling.

As much as I’m disgustingly tempted to… If my classmate’s there�� I can’t…

Except, he glances back. And his classmate is getting up, dusting off her skirt and going on her way, continuing to chat amicably as she does. Komaeda’s eyes go wide as everyone else is gone from view.

Rotten, dirty luck.

Rotten, dirty him.

He can’t help it now, fingers trailing down. He’s still trembling, but he still manages to unzip his pants and pulls it out. It’s disgustingly hard. Disgustingly warm. His palm is clammy and a little cold. It’s unpleasant but for someone as rotten-minded as him, it’s not a deterrence.

Someone could still come back.

His palm slides against the length, he twists his wrist in the way he bitterly knows he likes.

Just because there’s no one here now doesn’t make the act less shameful. Less disgusting. Less tainting of such a holy ground.

But if it’s so holy then why was I allowed access?

He doesn’t understand that. He doesn’t understand it at all and that’s why it’s so stressful.e dHJ

Do they just really not know? Really not see? Just how—how wretched and dull I really am? Aha. Maybe this could work as clarification. Maybe this would set things straight. Haha. Hahaha.

He still bites on his hand to muffle any sounds. What comes out is a keen. His thighs are trembling, and he squirms and jolts to meet his own sloppy strokes.

“Ah… Ahh… Hh…”

It’s warm. Humid. His open panting mouth. The perspiration on his heated skin. His hand slick with sweat and precum as it strokes and squeezes. Coiling, dizzying heat.

“Ah…ah…!”

It’s not really what one would call sexy but—but, but, but, for trash like him it’s enough.

I don’t deserve to be here, I don’t deserve to be here, I don’t, I don’t, I don’t, I don’t…

His eyes sting and then, they roll back as he comes. He can taste blood. Ah. Because he bit his hand too hard. That just makes things more unsightly, to have on bloodied hand and the other slick from catching his cum among other things. It’s unlucky. Unfortunate. Decadent.

He licks up his spill, and it’s quite bitter. He doesn’t mind it too much. He’s thorough, of course in swirling his tongue around his fingers. He hums.

Poor impulse control was something I was warned about… Hah.

Komaeda sighs as he carefully pulls out his handkerchief, wincing as he does. He wipes his hands clean but ties it around his injured one, using his teeth to tighten the knot. It should work fine until he got back to his dorm. He has a first aid kit there.

It should be fine. He’s more concerned with worrying other people unnecessarily.

Especially about something related to such a disgraceful act.

Komaeda scoffs before finally tucking himself back in. He zips up and manages to stand. His legs wobble a little and his mind still buzzes. He stumbles but manages to catch himself on one of the trees. But through his blurring vision, there’s a blight blocking out the vibrant colors.

Komaeda blinks, realizing as his gaze wanders up a black uniform to a very familiar face.

“…you again. Are you a stalker?”

The reserve stood frightfully still, eyes wide and—were his cheeks flushed? They definitely were. The bright red of his face made the green of those bugging eyes vibrate. Komaeda feels his own cheeks warm.

Ah. Oh.

“You saw,” he mumbled, rather lamely. “That’s…embarrassing?”

The reserve made a strangled sound.

“Y-You couldn’t have done that in your dorm?”

Komaeda just stared.

“Obviously? But I didn’t. So.” He shrugs almost helplessly. “I’m not sure what you expect me to do about it now. Besides head back to my dorm. Which I was doing. You’re in my way.”

“You injured yourself?” The reserve flinched after his gaze flickered to Komaeda’s wrapped up hand. “I… You should have been more careful.”

Ah. Huh. Careful.

He was getting annoyed but at the same time, he was curious. Woefully inept he was at understanding social norms—even he could tell that there was something off about how the reserve was acting. The way the reserve avoided his gaze, the way the reserve tugged at his uniform collar. Komaeda’s eyes flickered downwards, and he could tell.

“It probably would have gone better if I had someone cover my mouth,” he found himself saying. “Or…if I just had someone else…”

The reserve jumped at that.

“I-I…wouldn’t know about that…” he stammers, still evading his stare. “I, um… I-I should probably…”

As cute as the shy act was, Komaeda was not in a very patient mood.

“Reserve-san.”

“I have a name,” the reserve grumbled. “It’s Hinata. Hinata Hajime.”

“Hinata-kun.”

The name had a light taste. Warm but light. Like sunshine. Under the glowing sun, Hinata Hajime’s blush intensified. When Komaeda steps closer, he can almost feel the heat given from the other’s body.

“U-Uh?” Hinata swallowed, stiffening. “What’s…up?”

“Are you interested in me, Hinata-kun?” He takes Hinata’s hand with his injured one out of courtesy. Hinata’s hand is clammy and hot. He can’t help but squeeze as Hinata’s pupils dilate. “Is that why we keep running into each other? Is that why you watched me?”

“I… It’s just…coincidences…” Hinata does lean back a little but he doesn’t pull his hand away. “Y-You do catch my eye a little, but…”

He’s honest…but also so drearily indirect.

“Only a little?”

“A-A little!” he squeaked. “I-I mean—you look—distinct! That’s it! A-And you’re an elite…with bizarre behavior… Like now…”

Hinata’s squirming under his stare, weakly tugging at his grip.

“I really don’t get you at all…”

You say that almost as if you want to. But, I’m not so needy that I’d expect more than vague curiosity from a mere reserve.

With a sigh, Komaeda lets go of that hand.

“Well. Truth be told, I’m not sure where my mind is.” It doesn’t belong here. I had never even dared to dream. “What doesn’t make sense is everything else. It’s so frustrating that I feel like I’m going crazy. Just look at me. Unpacking on a reserve. You couldn’t even understand what I’m talking about.”

“I…” Hinata frowned. “I definitely won’t understand if you’re so vague about it. But, uh…” He clears his throat, coughing a few times. “Y-You should…probably go to the nurse or something… F-For your hand. It must hurt a lot.”

Actually, he could barely feel it at all. With how much he had been through, he was numb to a lot of pain. It stung when he pressed against it, but that was the extent of it.

Still.

“I guess I should. Well. Then I’ll be seeing you, Hinata-kun?” His head tilts. “Later?”

“Y-Yeah, sure. Later… Later… Uh? U-Uh…?!”

Komaeda turns on his heel and scampers off before Hinata can finish that thought.

“W-Wait…!”

He only quickens his pace.

What the hell was that about?

By the time he gets to his room, all he can do is throw himself onto the bed and scream.

–

I really don’t know what I’m doing.

His hand is bandaged, mind still bustling with static and nonsense, and he feels sick but antsy. So much so that the idea of staying inside as he should is making his stomach flip.

It’s one thing to masturbate out in the open but to be so open with some reserve kid is just… Am I really that pitiful and lonely? And for what? Just because that reserve actually thought to talk to me? Someone like that who just wants to rub up against the talented—even I’m not that pathetic.

Still. Hinata Hajime was strange. Bizarre. Any other person would at least be mortified or too annoyed to approach him. But Hinata Hajime—come to think of it, Hinata Hajime glanced at him a lot, didn’t he?

At him.

When no one else even liked to look at him.

His parents. His classmates. The staff. The normal worthless bystanders.

Hinata watched him. He just stood there. Like a creep. A stalker.

Well.

He certainly wasn’t bad to look at, that Hinata Hajime. The reserve uniform, of course, was wretched and hideous, but outside of that… If Hinata Hajime wore something, anything else…

Maybe the uniform at my last school?

He tries to imagine it. Soft gray likely didn’t suit Hinata Hajime but it was better than black, surely. The buttoned up blazer wouldn’t really work either, something loose, perhaps even discarded. Hinata Hajime sighing, tugging at his tie, undoing a few buttons so that he could breathe a little.

Eyes half-lidded. Long, dark lashes over hazel. A deepening blush. The unsteady bob of his throat, and just—oh.

Oh. He would be much cuter, then.

What a funny thought. Ha. Haha.

“Hinata Hajime-kun. Hinata-kun, Hinata-kun. Hi-na-ta-kun.” Warm and light. Sunshine. “Hinata-kun, huh?”

He’s pretty average but—if I think about him like that, he’s charming. He has that boy next door kind of vibe, doesn’t he?

Of course, he was a reserve. A reserve who was weirdly drawn to him. Someone like him.

Just because I’m an Ultimate? Even though I don’t belong here at all?

He couldn’t help but wonder and wonder.

–

Even the gate of the reserve district exuded such gloomy energy it was suffocating. Komaeda stands before it, dazed yet pensive.

It’s audacious. Utterly audacious, to make a place for yourself somewhere you don’t belong. And, yet, here we are.

He doesn’t doubt that many of them are currently in class. He wonders what class was like.

Studying to what end, heads ducked, with only the light from the unreachable illuminating the room. It must have been such a miserable existence. He almost feels bad for them.

Almost.

He doesn’t have a phone but he knows that it should be lunchtime soon. He doesn’t have to enter such a depressing, hopeless place because his luck will surely bring that person. Or, perhaps, that person will have already seen him by now.

Komaeda squints but, of course, it’s impossible to see anyone in those dull windows.

He doesn’t need to wait much longer. Students begin to filter out of the building, and while he’s certainly given quite a few odd stares, he only perks when that certain someone makes a beeline for him. He’s tense, he’s flustered, he’s giving Komaeda quite the complicated stare.

“Is there a reason you’re here?”

“Hello to you, too, Hinata-kun,” Komaeda greets simply. “I take it you’re not gracious to see me?”

Hinata’s expression is positively weathered.

“I… You probably shouldn’t be here. The others can be—severe. You know the people here are serious about getting into the main course, right?”

“Are you saying I might be killed?” He can’t help but laugh at the idea. “That’s never going to happen. But I likely won’t be treated kindly, all the same. So before we’re smothered, let’s go on our own way, Hinata-kun.”

“Let’s…?” Hinata blinked several times. It’s as if his mouth went dry. His voice is strangely raspy. “E-Excuse me?”

“I was thinking the main plaza?” Komaeda tilts his head, eyes wide and inquisitive. “Are you completely uninterested?”

I couldn’t have misunderstood, right?

“W… Why?”

I don’t understand why he’s drawing this out. Like the peeling of a chestnut, this is tedious.

“If you don’t want to go, just say so. I came all this way, the least you can do is give me a straight answer.”

Hinata shivered, swallowed, and then he quickly nodded.

“Uh. Fine. Sure. Let’s…go, then.”

There. Was that so difficult?

“Ehe. Hehe. Let’s, let’s.”

What a complicated one this reserve is.

–

For all his shillyshallying and beating around the bush, Komaeda felt the reserve’s eyes on him as they walked. It was an odd sensation, different from the stares he’s used to, but not too different. There’s something charged in the air, and Komaeda fantasizes about whirling on his heel to meet that intense gaze, just to see Hinata jump.

He wonders what Hinata is thinking, staring at his back like this. It’s strangely thrilling. He should feel guilty, not just for general unworthiness but also for bringing an even unworthier reserve into the mix.

“Hey…”

Instead, he’s just a little disappointed. Be it because Hinata didn’t speak up sooner or because he didn’t remain quiet. He wasn’t quite sure.

“Yes, Hinata-kun?”

“I don’t know your name.”

The words are blunt enough to be harsh, but there’s a clumsiness to them as well. It’s endearing, so Komaeda chuckles.

“Pardon me,” he says. “We never did formal introductions. That’s terribly rude, isn’t it?”

“It’s just weird to agree to go somewhere with a person whose name I don’t know,” Hinata replies. “So—what is it?”

“Komaeda Nagito. Class 77-B.” A pause. Komaeda feels his smile twist. “Ultimate Luck.”

“Luck?”

“Yeah. Luck.”

The fountain is now fully in sight, so Komaeda strides ahead to take his seat on the bench. He pats the spot beside him, and to his delight, Hinata takes it after a moment’s hesitation. Eyes bright, Komaeda smiles as Hinata looks away.

Now he can see Hinata’s face pinch up, twist a little, before it smooths over into something more neutral.

“You won the lottery, then. I envy you. Your luck must be something special.”

Headmaster Kirigiri had said as much before. That it was something special. That it was deserving of being called a talent. But. But, but, but.

“It’s not really a talent.” Even now, he can’t imagine thinking differently. “Something like luck. Fickle, erratic, uncontrollable. How could that ever be called a talent?”

If I was just to be an experiment, that’d be one thing, but I’m seriously expected to walk among and mingle with the others as if nothing’s amiss? How?

“It’s frustrating,” he finds himself saying. “So frustrating I want to scream.”

Hinata looks at him oddly. Of course he does. Of course. Of course.

“I’m sorry,” Komaeda whispers now. “I’m not very good at talking to people.”

“No, it’s…fine?” Hinata hesitates. “I’m just surprised. You really—seem perturbed? Even though everyone in the reserve course would kill to take your place.”

“Does that apply to you?” he asks darkly.

“O-Of course not! No way! I just—!” Hinata rubs furiously at his nape. “I would like to be talented…”

“And I’m sure penguins would like to fly.”

Hinata groaned.

“God, you’re such a prick… Why did you approach me again?” The question is clearly rhetorical, with Hinata’s eyes narrowing and sardonic tone lowering. “Did you just want someone to vent to? Is this building up to a threat…?”

Vent. A threat?

“I—actually it was because I thought you were interested in me.”

The blue sky shone above them. There’s a light spray from the fountain. Despite the beauty of this place, the two wretched creatures present weren’t in any mood to appreciate it. How despairing that was. How sad.

“Was I wrong? I apologize. I must have been confused. Perhaps you’re disgusted by me, then?”

He’s not always sure how he comes across to people—except that it never seems to be positive. When he tries to smile or encourage, it always has the opposite effect. There’s something truly despicable about him. Something truly repulsive. It must be inherent. It must be inevitable.

But, truth be told—that idea hurts a little.

“I-I’m not.” Hinata’s words are stammered and hesitant, but because of what the words are, Komaeda has to physically keep himself from clinging to them. Even as Hinata keeps talking, still not looking at him. “I mean, you do interest me, yeah. You’re…bizarre. And eccentric. In both mannerisms and…appearance.”

His eyes finally slide over towards his, and Komaeda can see now the way Hinata looks at him. How his stare sweeps up and down, how his lips press together, how his tan cheeks color. Hinata Hajime doesn’t look at him like a bug scuttling on the ground. Hinata Hajime looks at him as if he were something else.

“Are you attracted to me?”

Hinata’s blush is prominent and inarguable.

“…what kind of question is that?”

“Do you desire me in some way?”

“W-What kind of question is that?!”

Hinata does yelp when Komaeda finally leans in. He hasn’t even taken to pinning Hinata to the bench, and Hinata already looks beyond overwhelmed. It’s cute, really, so much so that Komaeda really should feel guilty. Apologetic. Disgusted with himself.

Except this was a particularly annoying reserve. So he can’t help but want to bully him a little.

I don’t deserve to be here, yet I am—you’re the same way, aren’t you? Except…

“It must have been a lot,” Komaeda murmurs. “The tuition. The stress. The demand. I imagine you’re frustrated with all of it.”

Hinata’s eyes are wide, but the face he makes is almost distorted. For someone so ordinary, Hinata Hajime really made quite the complicated expressions. Puzzling. Weirdly inviting in that puzzling way.

“I don’t… I actually…” There are so many words that flutter to Hinata’s lips only to dissipate in the air. So many things that Hinata seems wanting to say—but doesn’t. “It’s frustrating. Yeah.”

Hinata has relaxed a little, and the way he looks at Komaeda is now so painstakingly vulnerable that it causes his very skin to prickle.

“It wouldn’t get better—even if I had a talent, huh… So, why am I here…?”

It’s a strange question. An absolutely incomprehensible one—but Hinata meets his gaze searchingly.

“Hey, Komaeda. If you really, truly, don’t believe you belong here—then why are you?”

“Ah, huh?” Huh, huh, huh, huh, huh, huh, huh? “I… Um…”

Isn’t it obvious?

“Because for some ridiculous reason or another, I’m wanted here by certain people.” Ba-dump. Ba-dump. “I wouldn’t be here if I was completely unwanted.”

“Unwanted, huh?” Hinata’s lips twist, the corners quirking in what wasn’t quite a smile or a frown. “I see. I get ya. They gave you the means—so you just took it. But you’re hoping for more, right?”

More… I wonder…

Without thinking, he touches Hinata’s face. His defined jawline. It’s so warm to the touch and yet, his cheek is soft. Idly, Komaeda can’t help but be reminded of mochi.

“It’s beyond impertinent to hope or aspire,” he said, nearly biting his tongue. “But I still want to test the limits. Because this is such a sanctified place, isn’t it? And yet, here I am. Here we are. It bothers me. It really does.”

I don’t expect to be understood—and I don’t think I’ll ever be understood, but…truth be told, I’m tired of mulling. I want to vent.

“It bothers me, too, I guess,” Hinata huffs. “Even though I should be gracious and honored, I instead feel uneasy and unsure. I wonder if you…get that…”

He somewhat did, he supposed. But right now—he stared intently at Hinata’s pursing lips. How they press together, how they part for a sigh. How red and dark they are, to the point where Komaeda almost considers picking at them with his teeth.

He gulps.

“You know,” Hinata speaks so conversationally that it’s parodical. “I actually didn’t have to pay to be here, either. I just got lucky.”

At just those words, just like that, something fragile inside of him snapped.

–

It’s—difficult to explain what happened next because Komaeda Nagito, rotten-brained, stupid, worthless, heedless Komaeda Nagito hadn’t really been thinking.

He can, however, pick up on a few things once he regained some semblance of reason, despite how withered and fragmented said reasoning was.

His first thought was that his mouth hurt. When he kissed Hinata Hajime, it had been less the tender linking of lips and more—abrasive.

That he didn’t headbutt the other by accident was dumb luck, even if their teeth still clanged in a most unpleasant way. Hinata probably cried out—or maybe Komaeda did, or maybe they both did—but it didn’t stop there.

Instead, Komaeda’s arms locked around the reserve’s neck, and the reserve kissed him back desperately.

It was rough. It was awkward. Hinata’s tongue flicks against his, and he gave a pleasant shiver in response.

“A-Aah… Mm…”

He nips playfully at Hinata’s lower lip, curious of the soft swell, taken in deeper as careful fingers run through his hair. They also skid along his jawline and cheekbones, curious in the way Komaeda himself had been—except being on the receiving end was a decidedly different sensation.

“H-Hah… Ah…”

When Hinata pulls him closer, the kiss deepens further and it’s dizzying.

“W… Wai…”

They part with a wet smack, and his face feels unnaturally warm, especially when cupped in Hinata’s hands.

“…shit,” Hinata utters. “That’s…actually…”

Komaeda’s eyelashes flutter helplessly, and rather than continuing that sentence, Hinata resumes kissing him.

Ah. Aha. Wow. He’s really into this.

How very, very lucky.

–

He wasn’t sure how much time they spent kissing. Except that it was enough time that when Hinata idly checked his watch, it was cut abruptly short.

“Shit! Class!”

“Oh, class.”

He was disappointed, but merely kissed Hinata’s cheek, murmuring into his ear a promise, “Later, then?”

“Ah… Yeah.” Hinata nodded. “Later. Uh. Komaeda.”

Komaeda smiled at him brightly, but that just made him more flustered. Was it because of how swollen his lips were? How flushed his face? The glimmer in his watery gaze?

He wasn’t sure, but the nervous way Hinata waved him off and how ruffled the reserve was—he found it surprisingly cute.

“Bye-bye, Hinata-kun. See you soon.”

“S-See you.”

With every quickened step Hinata took, Komaeda wondered if his own heart was racing with him.

–

Hinata Hajime-kun is—difficult to pinpoint.

The more he thought about this seemingly unobtrusive and unremarkable reserve, the more of an actual enigma he seemed to be.

He’s so utterly hopeless that he had to cheat his way even into the backup course.

He doesn’t know more than that and frankly, he’s not terribly curious about it. But when Hinata Hajime had said he just got lucky, it really struck him as…odd.

Hinata, at least, had the awareness to be pretty ashamed about it.

“You’re not, uh…” He wasn’t even looking at him at the time, head ducked and eyes downcast. “You’re not—going to tell anyone, right? Because I really, really shouldn’t have just blurted that out.”

As odd as it was, Komaeda kisses his cheek all the same.

“I don’t have anyone to tell,” he chirps. “Really, no one likes it when I even breathe. And who can blame them?”

Flushing, Hinata gave him a pained look.

“Surely that’s an exaggeration.”

“No, it’s not!” He shook his head furiously. “You don’t understand because you’re a reserve—but I’m really, truly detestable, Hinata-kun! It’s how things are!”

“It’s true you can be…difficult, but…detestable…? That’s such a strong word…”

Hinata Hajime-kun—is quite dumb. But also surprisingly sweet.

When Komaeda kisses him impulsively then, Hinata’s gentle in returning the gesture. His eyes even flutter shut, like this is the start of a romantic scene. It’s silly, but endearing.

Even when Hinata inevitably sucked on his tongue.

Hinata Hajime-kun is still normal. Which means he has hormonal needs, desires, and frustrations.

“Goodness… So much tissue…”

“M-Most of those are from my allergies!”

“Mmhmm…”

“You’re the one who just bullied your way into my room in the first place!”

“Ahaha! Still, it’s a bit filthy, Hinata-kun… But I won’t judge!”

“You said that…very judgingly.”

Despite being so normal, Komaeda did find himself astounded by the incredible lack of personality in Hinata Hajime’s dorm room. The only thing hanging on the wall was a calendar—the very same one that Komaeda also owned, in fact. There was a bit of a mess with crumbled up clothes strewn about the floor and a wastebasket that so desperately needed to be dumped. Aside from the laptop tucked in the corner, it was a room with very little.

The bed wasn’t terribly comfortable, either, but Komaeda settled onto it anyway, to Hinata’s chagrin.

“I’d let you into my room,” he tells him innocently, watching blankly as Hinata’s cheeks color. “But you’d get into trouble if you were found in the main district.”

Hinata can only sigh.

“Yeah… I know…” He trails off. “And I guess we might as well be dating…”

Dating. Is that what this is?

He really, truly doubted it, but he smiled at Hinata anyway.

“I can help you save on tissue if you want,” he chirps. “I don’t mind.”

“What? Are you going to give me extra packets or something? I can already get them free at the…student…building…” Hinata trails off, realizing what he meant. If his face was burning red before, it was scorching now. “O-Oh. You don’t mind?”

It’s not until Komaeda beckons him that Hinata plops down on the spot beside him. Komaeda’s smile broadens, never breaking contact with Hinata’s wide-eyed stare as he slips off the bed and pushes his knees apart so that he can settle in-between. Playfully, he tugs down Hinata’s zipper with his teeth, eyes glimmering as Hinata inhales sharply.

His hands settle on Komaeda’s head, light enough to be negligible.

“Don’t pull,” Komaeda says simply. “The strands are pretty fragile—and I don’t want bald spots.”

“O-Okay.” Instead, Hinata clumsily pats him. “U… Uh…”

When Komaeda tugs out his cock, Hinata’s head lolls back.

“Shit.”

Hinata Hajime-kun, being a reserve…has such simplicity to him. I can’t help but find that charming.

He’s not exactly talented in this area. It goes without saying. He’s not very well-liked, so he’s largely unfamiliar with the intricacies of intimacy.

But even though he drools a lot as he sucks him off, even though he’s not quite sure what to do with his teeth—he can’t say it isn’t weirdly enjoyable.

Hinata still moans and curses colorfully, blush darkening as Komaeda hollows out his cheeks. It hurts his mouth a little, but he really, truly doesn’t mind when it evokes such sounds from a mewling Hinata Hajime.

The scent is strong and heady, the taste quite bitter, but—it’s satisfying having such weight on his tongue. And there’s something about how it twitches and thickens. On a base level, it’s fascinating.

On a baser level, it’s thrilling. Especially with how Hinata strokes his hair and praises him.

“Shit, fuck, K-Komaeda… That… That’s really good… So good… Komaeda, Komaeda…”

When his balls tighten and his toes curl, Hinata Hajime makes such a charming sight. It really was so simple. So cute.

It also made him so much easier to use.

“U-Uh… Uh…! You don’t have to…!”

Hinata cringes as Komaeda swallows it down, pinching his nose as he does.

“Thicker than I expected,” is all he has to say afterwards. Hinata just gapes.

“I… Uh… Hey, Komaeda…?”

“Hmm?”

“I should…at least return the favor, right?”

“You don’t have to.”

“But… I should.”

“Mm. Okay.”

Hinata Hajime really was strange—but there was a lot to like. And a lot to take advantage of, especially with how eager he was.

Someone like this is similar to someone like me.

–

Hinata Hajime really does remind him of himself sometimes. Enthusiastic and eager to please—utterly pathetic and pitiful at the same time. But, Komaeda doesn’t think he’s a bad person. Of course not.

He’s just a reserve.

A reserve who liked to mouth at his thighs, suck on his chest, and bite on his shoulder. A reserve who definitely took pride in making him squirm, which was a bit annoying.

We’re similar—so it wouldn’t be surprising if Hinata-kun wanted to use me too. Just for kicks. Just to see how much I’d allow. How far things will go.

He’s not annoyed by that idea. He’s not quite that hypocritical. Besides, this was easier on both of them.

Right now, he’s tucked away into Hinata’s embrace. Hinata still shuffles a bit awkwardly when holding him, like it’s embarrassing. It’s funny, but Komaeda’s rather sheepish about it, too.

He only relaxes a little when Hinata kisses his ear, both the shell and the hollow beneath. He relaxes more when he feels Hinata smile against his neck when he squirms from the sensuality of it all.

Sunlight filters through the leaves clustered above. They’ve already finished their lunch. They’re like this—because it had been so bright that Komaeda wanted to sit somewhere with shade. Komaeda sees a bird hop from one branch to the next.

Hinata kisses his neck.

“It’s not a big deal if you leave marks,” Komaeda murmurs, still looking at the fluttering bird. “No one’s going to care. I don’t go to class.”

“It’s basic human decency to not do that,” Hinata retorts, taking his hand and squeezing. “Besides, you bruise easily. Look.” His thumb runs over a discolored patch of skin. “Your hand is still yellowing.”

“It always looks more serious than it actually is.” He sighs, entwining their fingers. “But—how chivalrous of you all the same. I suppose.”

Hinata kisses each knuckle of his finger. Somehow that’s the most embarrassing thing. He wonders just how in love with the image of romanticism the other is. Another similarity they’d have, in that case.

But I’m not quite so naïve.

Still, it’s nice to pretend.

“What do you think would happen if we were caught?” Komaeda asks, squeezing Hinata’s hand. “Would we get in trouble? Scolded?”

“I… Well, if not by the staff…” Hinata trails off. “I think the worst case scenario is being seen by another student. The rumors afterwards…”

“Rumors? Aha! When I was in middle school, I was rumored to be a god of death! And a demon!” He snickers at the memory. “I used to get things thrown at me, kids yelling ‘begone, begone’! I think rumors of a steamy affair would at least make my life more interesting.”

“That…sounds awful?” Hinata frowned at him. “Are you okay?”

“Not really. I never have been.” Ah. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to chatter about that. It’s not like those assumptions were…” He stops himself and shakes his head quickly. His body twists so that it rests more comfortably against Hinata’s warm body. Their fingers were still interlaced, and the sight of it was almost withering. Komaeda sighed out. “I don’t really see anything happening if the staff sees.”

“…yeah?” Hinata still sounds worried, but that he doesn’t press it really is something to be appreciated.

“My classmates, bless their hearts, are a very rowdy bunch,” he said. “The staff really keeps an eye on them, and it’s just as well! They really are incredible! So full of promise! Me, on the other hand… They’d rather not pay me much if any mind. After all.” He kisses Hinata’s ear. “Did you know? A lot of the staff doesn’t think I deserve to be here, either.”

“That’s not fair.” Hinata bristled. “You won the lottery. That gives you the right.”

“You’re so nice,” Komaeda can’t help but lament. “You’re an impudent reserve, but—you’re so kind. I think it would’ve been better for everyone if we switched places. My classmates would like you, I’m sure of it.”

Neither of us deserve to be here, but… I in particular… I really don’t have the right at all. I’m unremarkable, detestable, and an embarrassment.

“I’m no that nice,” Hinata huffs, cupping his face. He swallows as Komaeda nuzzles into his hand. “I’m definitely—not that nice.”

If you were better behaved, you wouldn’t be in this situation. That much is true. But.

“Hinata-kun, I’m bored with this conversation.”

It doesn’t change anything. It’s just venting. I’d like to vent a different way.

“What would you rather do, Komaeda?”

“Mm…” He nips at the protruding bone of Hinata’s wrist. “You must be hot in that uniform. Let’s relieve some of that heat.”

Hinata snorts as Komaeda leans forward, undoing the buttons to his blazer. Hinata’s remarkably pliant otherwise, sliding the material down his shoulders, leaving behind the white dress shirt and tie.

“You’re wearing a sweater vest,” Hinata pointed out, tugging down Komaeda’s own open blazer. “Aren’t you hotter?”

Komaeda simply shook his head.

“It doesn’t bother me. Actually, I don’t even feel the heat.”

“No?” Hands run over his shoulder blades and back. He’s pulled closer into Hinata’s lap. “Not even like this?”

Hinata’s gaze burns into his own. His body heat, too, is burning. There must already be sweat on his brow and nape—that intense expression glittering under filtered sunlight also looks so nervous. It really is endearing. More so with that rosy shade.

I want to push him further.

“Not really.”

“No?”

Fingertips hover on his lower back, barely brushing against the top of his rump. Hinata stiffens, face pinching up as Komaeda smiles down at him easily.

“I feel the hesitation,” he says, settling his own hands atop Hinata’s broad shoulders. Even though they’re about the same height, Hinata Hajime is much, much more built. With less unflattering layers, he could see that. Licking his lips, he adds. “It’s alright. I’m lucky. No one will see this.”

Except I want to push things further and further to the point where I actually am threatened.

He wonders if Hinata felt that way, too. After all, what was thrill without the risk?

But instead of squeezing, Hinata just places a hand on his nape and draws him in even closer. Still radiating such warm, Hinata��s arms wrap around him, and he’s embraced like one would a lover.

Komaeda’s the one that flinches even as he hurriedly forced himself to relax. His heart’s definitely pounding, but so is Hinata’s. Hinata is also—clearly—aroused.

With his legs hooked around the other’s waist, it’s obvious. He’s not just hot against him, he’s hard, the front of his uniform slacks straining. Without really thinking, Komaeda rocks his hips and the effect is immediate. Hinata groans lowly into his ear.

“Komaeda…”

He does shiver at that. When Hinata kisses him, it’s less the melding of lips and more Hinata nibbling at the swollen seam. He’s compliant, even with Hinata’s tongue swipes at him.

Wet smacks. Soft sucks. Building warmth. He shivers again, wondering if he’ll end up dying for this. Surely not, but…

Good luck—bad luck—I don’t even know which it is.

“Wa… Wait, wait…” Hinata kisses along his jaw. “Wouldn’t it—be easier if I turned around or something…? I don’t know…”

Hinata hums into his ear, and squeezes his ass, earning a squeal. Hinata immediately covers his mouth, blush darkening as he nods.

“Yeah… Probably. I like this position too, but…”

“Just let me…”

They both speak at the same time, words blurring together as they move. Hinata scoots so that his back is flat against a tree, and when Komaeda manages to twist himself around, it’s not long after that Hinata pulls him back into his lap. It’s flustering, having someone’s arousal pressing into his bottom, but it’s not the most uncomfortable position he’s ever been in.

It’s warm. More so when Hinata’s arms encircle him again, keeping them flushed together. And then, and then, Hinata’s hand runs down his stomach.

“Hey, what does reserve-san think he’s doing?” he asks breathily, eyes narrowed. Hinata kisses the corner of his mouth, but rather than provide any answers, he undoes the front of his slacks. Komaeda trembles, and Hinata covers his mouth.

“A…h…”

“You said it yourself back then,” Hinata murmurs as his tentative fingers run over his groin. He goes on as Komaeda groans. “If you just had someone else…”

It really is something else, being touched like this by another person.

Hinata’s motions were careful as they always were. Up, down, up, down, up, down—then finally the flat of his palm, pressing against his straining arousal. A sharp whine escaped Komaeda’s throat, muffled against Hinata’s other hand, and Hinata hissed softly.

“Shit,” he swallows as Komaeda is left trembling and wanting. “You’re…so fucking cute.”

Cute?

There’s nothing endearing about being a depraved, lustful mess. There’s nothing adorable about desperately jerking hips as Hinata pulls out his cock. There’s nothing charming about any of this. Hinata licking his lips as he strokes his length, murmuring into Komaeda’s ear about how rosy it is, how it’s as red as his face and how cute that is. Especially with how Komaeda moans from the sensations and the heat thrumming in his body. And how, without even thinking, he takes Hinata’s fingers into his mouth and sucks, his tongue wrapping around and rubbing against the digits.

“Mm… Hm…”

“So cute,” Hinata whispers, chuckling. “It’s incredible. An Ultimate like this—because of me.”

Because of a reserve, Komaeda thinks dully, distantly, purring around those fingers as Hinata thumbs at the head of his cock. Shivering pleasantly at Hinata peeling and teasing his foreskin. Eyes squeezing shut as Hinata rolls and fondles his balls. I’m really reducing myself to such a state—on the breeding ground of hope.

He’s even eagerly rocking into Hinata’s hand, damn near fucking it with abandon if he just had the stamina and strength to do so. He already feels exhausted but he’s—he’s close.

It’s dizzying, body twitching and he almost feels like he’s being suffocated. The rippling pleasure, the rising heat, and Hinata’s gentle sweet nothings now being murmured into his ear. He couldn’t make out a word through the pleasurable static, but Hinata does nip at his ear, and he does lick his neck.

“…mae…”

Mine?

Then and there, Komaeda nearly blacks out, hips buckling as he comes, and gasping sharply and biting Hinata’s fingers. Hinata doesn’t even flinch, he just holds him close, strokes him through ejaculation, and Komaeda tastes bitter iron. He sucks almost mournfully.

He’s still dizzy, mind fuzzy and vibrating, but his body can’t help itself from moving. Even with a gelatinous awareness, he can still feel heat burrowing into his squirming bottom. Hinata’s groaning lowly, and then, those fingers are pulled from his mouth so that they can squeeze his hip.

“Fuck… K-Komaeda… Don’t you want to take a break? You’re…”

Filthy. Deprived. Disgusting. A complete blight on the academy, dirtying the very ground with seed. Aha. Haha.

He trembled with delight and desperation.

I feel like I haven’t gone far enough.

“Surely the reserve wants to come as well?” he asks, touching the underside of Hinata’s chin. He feels the other’s swallow this time as he nuzzles into his jaw. “After all, I know you’re not just indulging me out of the goodness of your heart.”

“I… No, I’m definitely not.”

So blunt. Komaeda thinks almost fondly, kissing his jawline. “I don’t see myself easily getting it up again, but… As an act of courtesy, you can do whatever you want with me. You’re so privileged already, reserve-san.”

“I…” Hinata growled. “I have a name.”

“Mm…” He twists around so that he can more easily tease him, tugging at his tie and unbuttoning his uniform. “Reserve-san, reserve-san. Hinata-kun, Hinata-kun. I think both suit you.”

In agitated response, Hinata tugged at his pants.

“I won’t be a reserve forever, you know!”

“So you’ll be Hinata-kun forever?” he asks cheekily.

Strangely, Hinata does pause. And with surprising strength, he maneuvers Komaeda so that he’s more comfortably in his lap. With the usual carefulness, he tucks his cock back inside. Komaeda blinks a few times, but then Hinata smears cum on his face.

He squeaks in protest at first, but he quickly calms, watching blankly as Hinata’s stare intensifies. More so when upon offered that dirtied hand, Komaeda instinctively moves to lick it clean.

It’s bitter—but it’s better than blood, he can’t help but think, making a soft sound of approval. “Mm…”

“Hey, Komaeda.”

Komaeda blinks up at him innocently.

“Mmmm? Do your fingers hurt, Hinata-kun?”

“You didn’t bite that hard,” Hinata says lowly, showing him his other hand. There are small, reddened indents around the knuckles but not much else.

“That’s good…” He nods drearily. “But, Hinata-kun, your expression is strange. It really is strange. And you’re still…” He scoots, pressing against that still thrumming heat. “Mm? Don’t tell me you lost your confidence?”

“It’s…” Hinata’s thumb swipes at his lower lip. “I just…”

It’s strange, Komaeda can’t help but think. That expression is one of such abject uncertainty. You really don’t understand your place at all, do you?

…

That’s alright.

He kisses Hinata tenderly.

I don’t understand mine, either.

Now that he thinks about it—he really is exhausted. Of this, that, and everything else. It’s all so frustrating that it’s exhausting. And he really does just want to relax and indulge a little.

Even is he has to do so messily, with damp, deepening kisses and melting, molding lips.

“Ah… Hah…” When Hinata does pull back for breath, it’s in hot puffs against his panting mouth. There’s still a sheen of saliva connecting them. “Komaeda…”

When did he start straddling him? Aah, heat really was radiating off of Hinata, all that said. Mind-numbing and almost enthralling. Then and there, Komaeda wondered if just letting Hinata dryly rut against him would be enough. If even sucking the other off would be enough.

He wondered, really wondered if he should go even further than that.

For Hinata’s sake.

Of course.

Hinata, who wiped a line of drool from his chin. Hinata with his glittering hazel gaze, brilliant blush, and trembling red lips. Komaeda thinks about sunlight beaming down on both of them, on this shameful display—the same radiance that made Hope’s Peak Academy too bright to look at directly.

And here they were.

“…m-my…my room.”

Hinata seemed to realize it, too, and just like that—he falters and crumbles like decay in the wind.

“Let’s…continue this…i-in my room.”

It’s too much in the end, huh? But—I suppose having an Ultimate in your room still pushes something. Something, something, something—

“Are you going to fuck me, reserve-san?”

Hinata stiffens. His pupils are blown wide, dark in the midst of that glisten.

“I wonder what gave you the confidence?”

Hinata blinks. He inhales. Exhales.

“Can—I do that?”

Have confidence? How am I supposed to answer that? How would I even know?

“Sure. If you want. You just have to clean off my face first. Obviously.”

When Hinata embraces him then, it’s almost as if he had said something that made the other so happy it brought him to tears.

��

He wonders if this is still testing his luck. The dorms are on such the far side of campus that it’s almost difficult to tell where they truly are. Hinata’s windows show nothing remarkable as they’re on the side faced away from Hope’s Peak Academy.

It’s getting late. It’s getting dark. There’s no point in worrying about getting ready for tomorrow because there’s no reason to even go anywhere or do anything. He’s the Ultimate Luck and a detestable, despicable, lowly human being with no redeeming qualities. The staff would rather pretend he didn’t exist. His class, too, would rather pretend he didn’t exist.

He doesn’t deserve to be there. And he doesn’t belong.

Especially not when he’s undressing for a mere reserve, even when it’s a reserve as adorably sheepish as Hinata. So adorable. Hinata looks at him with wide eyes as he tugs down his underwear and discards it with the rest of his uniform. The Hope’s Peak Academy uniform, tossed onto a reserve’s dirty floor as though it were garbage.

I really am terrible.

“Sakura pattern…cute.”

“H-Hush.”

The reserve is now naked, too, and he really isn’t half-bad to look at. Tanned skin, healthy sinew, defined muscles and bone structure. He really does look thinner without clothes but—compared to Komaeda, the difference is like cotton and timber.

“You’re handsome, Hinata-kun,” he says earnestly.

Hinata’s cheeks burn darker before he inhales deeply.

“Thanks… You, uh, too. You’re…handsome.”

It’s such a clumsy, awkward response. The kind that’s clearly more courtesy than sincerity. Komaeda smiles anyway, laying back and bending his knees, spreading his legs so that Hinata can settle between them more comfortably.

“Um… Um.”

For the first time, Komaeda wonders what the reserve must be thinking. How this whole affair could be considered. Eyes rolling back to the dreary ceiling, Komaeda could only hear Hinata Hajime’s fretting and fumbling.

“I-I’ve never…”

“It’s basic human nature,” he finds himself saying, still staring at nothing. “You’ll figure it out, Hinata-kun.”

“You really think so…?”

Hinata looms over him, unsure and insecure, looking towards him for—validation? Confidence? Relief?

Even though we’re doing this just to vent… How pitiful.

It really is pitiful. But he smiles reassuringly all the same, fingers digging into the sheets.

“It’s going to be fine. Just fine.”

Even if it hurts, it’ll be fine.

There is a burn when he’s stretched, when he’s spread open from the reserve’s fingers. It’s slight and almost negligible, but he still makes sounds of encouragement and enthusiasm.

My luck will always smooth things over. There’s no point in worrying. No point at all.

He doesn’t have anything to worry about. Not at all. Especially when Hinata’s thrusting fingers were—so careful. Awkward, but careful.

“It’s fine,” he repeated, over and over. “It’s fine, it’s fine, it’s fine… Hinata-kun, Hinata-kun…”

“I-If you really say so…” When those fingers curl inside of him, he shivers at the sensation. He rocks his hips a little, but not much, and it still has Hinata’s eyes darkening. “Have you done this before?”

“That’s a secret,” he says because he really doesn’t want to think about it. The fact that this is the most intimate he’s been with a person—physically and emotionally—is honestly embarrassing. “Would it bother you if I had? Surely you’re not that arrogant.”

“It’s…not a big deal. I was just curious. I guess I should stop worrying.” Hinata huffed but his steaming cheeks give him away. “You’re just—fine. With all of this.”

“I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t,” Komaeda answers sincerely, shifting ever so slightly under him, gripping a handful of the sheet with one hand as he licked his lips. “What about you?”

“I…”

When Hinata pulls out his fingers, he rather sloppily wipes them clean. They’ll definitely need to do some laundry together later. Hinata then moves so that he’s positioned a bit more properly, and there’s such heat coming off already that it’s dizzying. Thrumming with excitement, Komaeda’s smile widens.

“I think…”

Hinata swallows before finally, finally, slicking himself up. Had this reserve ever imagined this? Had he ever dared to dream?

“I think it’s the same for me.”

Ahahaha. Honestly I’m surprised I haven’t done this sooner.

Especially with the way Hinata pulls him close, pushes inside, and both of them tremble from it. It’s hot, significant, and positively wicked.

Hinata curses, but when Komaeda moans into his ear, that’s all the further encouragement he needs.

Neither of us deserve to be here. It’s only natural we come together like this.

That didn’t keep the bed from protesting the wonder of it.

What would others think? Would they even care? I doubt it. I really do. But, but…

Hinata does give both of them time to adjust, panting and pressed up against him. He does kiss him, briefly and wetly, before pulling back so that he can move. He’s still cursing, muttering about how hot his insides are and how tightly they squeeze him. There is the slapping of skin, other slick sounds, and honestly, honestly—it feels too good to even think.

Somehow, Hinata’s fingers are laced with his own, the grip almost more painful than the intercourse itself.

We might as well be lovers. Even though this is just to vent. Just to push boundaries. Limits. Working out frustrations. All of that…

“Komaeda,” Hinata murmurs, eyes hazed over with lust. “You look good like this.”

“Ah, ah, Hinata-kun…”

When Hinata kisses him again, this time it muffles a high-pitched moan. He squirms helplessly, somewhere between trying to keep up with the thrusts and pull the other in even closer.

“Fuck, fuck,” Hinata hisses as Komaeda’s fingers dig into his back, their joined hands squeezing even harder. “A-Already…!”

All of that and I’m already…

It’s funny how much of an empty person like him gets filled to the brim like this.

“K-Komaeda… Komaeda…!”

Except, it’s too hot to even think. He can barely even breathe as Hinata shudders. His own toes curl, and maybe he draws blood again, but he can’t hear anything except a sharp, piercing cry of pleasure.

I’m already…

When he tumbles over that edge, he does do with the grace of a collapsing marionette with its strings cut.

I’m already so much lower than before.

He slumps afterwards, gasping and wheezing, so overwhelmed that his eyes were stinging. Despite how shattered everything was, he could only jolt when Hinata brushed his hair back.

“Komaeda…?”

Komaeda desperately yanks him back into a kiss.

I had expected this, of course. Because… Because…

He clings to him as before.

“Mm…”

–

“When Headmaster Kirigiri said such kind things about me… I had wanted to believe him, as shameful as that was… But…”

“There isn’t a doubt in my mind that there’s something special about you.”

“There’s no way he really meant any of that… So was it a mere act of pity, perhaps?” He really didn’t know. He just didn’t know. “Even if they were to study luck, what could they hope to find? It’s impossible to control one’s luck. I’ve tried. Over. And over. But, maybe I’m just that much of an abject failure… Who knows, who knows.”

“If you stay in the water like that, you’ll end up wrinkly like an old man.”

“My hair is already white, what difference would it make?”

Hinata rolls his eyes, but he remains beside the tub where Komaeda slumped over the edge, head buried in his folded arms.

“Mmgh…” He lets out a low groan. “Hey, next time, why don’t you fuck me until my hips break or something? You were shockingly reserved for your first time.”

“I know this is venting—and it’s probably not exactly healthy either, but I’d rather not hurt anyone,” Hinata replies, almost irritably. “I think—that would do the opposite of help or something…”

“Are you even tempted? You’re not resentful, even a little?” Drearily, Komaeda frowns at him. “I’d let you strangle me, even. If you wanted to.”

“Do you want to be hurt?” Hinata grimaces at the thought. “If you really feel that way—that’s all the more reason to not…do that. I’m pretty sure.”

You’re pretty sure, huh. Ah. Aha. Haha.

“You really are kind,” Komaeda mutters tiredly, smile strained. “I’m lucky to have caught the eye of someone kind, even if it breaks my heart a little.”

For a few moments, Hinata doesn’t say anything. He just sits there as Komaeda sighs, resting his cheek against the edge as he remains soaking in the warm water. Earlier, Hinata had washed him off. He had been gentle about it. When Komaeda expressed an interest in simply soaking afterwards, Hinata had allowed it.

With cleaner water, of course. He wasn’t that gross.

All the same—Hinata-kun really is accommodating. Someone like this…if I were to live life normally, there’s no doubt in my mind I’d fall for him.

“…can I ask you something?”

Hinata twitched a little but nodded.

“What does Hope’s Peak Academy even want from you?”

Hinata flinches now, everything about him rigid as stone, before the words came, low and almost dulled.

“Everything. They want everything.” A pause. “And I’ll do anything for them.”

“Oh, me too. We have that in common.” Komaeda laughed, just a little. “But so many of them don’t want anything to do with me. Haha.”

“Maybe it’s because luck isn’t really a talent,” Hinata said softly.

“Probably, yeah.” He let his eyes fall shut. “But you’re the one with nothing to offer. Unless that’s what they’re looking for. Nothing. Nothing at all.”

There wasn’t an answer to that. He didn’t really want one, anyway.

“…I’m sorry.” He apologizes, shoulders hunching even as his breath doesn’t hitch and his eyes remain dry. But he does feel a layer of slick from the heat and warmth of the water. Almost dizzy. But it’s not like before. Instead of intimate, he feels almost encased from everyone and everything. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

Despite all that, Hinata squeezes his hand.

“Don’t worry about it.” And, then. “Let’s get you out of there, Komaeda. You might end up fainting otherwise and that—would probably be bad.”

“You don’t say,” he slurs, squeezing back. “What an impressively average level of foresight.”

“Come on.” Hinata sounds more stern than exasperated. “Up, up.”

Komaeda whines, but when Hinata pulls him up with ease, he clings to him. As before.

–

At some point, he really did faint. When he finally came back to, he was alone in a reserve’s room, tucked into the reserve’s bed, with a note on the bedside table. Komaeda blinks at the ceiling, noting that it’s a lot brighter out.

It was morning. Morning—and a school day. Meaning that Hinata had likely already gone to class and that’s what the note was about. That among other things. He wondered what else Hinata would write. Gentle scolding? Well wishes? Reassurances? Gratitude?

Cynically, he thought about this situation if it were romantic. With Hinata kissing his sleeping forehead and leaving behind a message that said I love you.

Ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous.

And yet, he was too snug to move despite the bed still being on the stiffer side. The more he thought about it, the more flustered he got about just—passing out.

I don’t even know if Hinata-kun shared the bed with me or not!

But now that he was in this situation, what was he to do? Class wasn’t mandatory and no one on the main campus even wanted to see him. If he got hungry, Hinata kept snacks in his dorm that he could eat. Hell, Hinata even had a few microwavable packages if he wanted. He could always pay Hinata back in spades.

Ah. Maybe I should at least take him out to dinner. Haha. The average reserve having dinner with someone like me. If I did that, Hinata-kun might end up dropping a knife onto his foot. Or with a fly in his food. Or even worse.

There were other options. Like bringing Hinata food. Maybe? He could probably earn favors if he wanted.

I didn’t seek Hinata-kun out for this. But it would be a nice gesture. Right?

Finally, Komaeda pushed himself up. It was a bit chilled despite the sunny sky, so he kept the blanket wrapped around him, still warm likely from shared body heat. He shivers.

The courteous thing to do would be to gather my clothes and leave. Except I don’t want to go quite yet.

The room was cleaner than before with even the calendar properly marked up. There still wasn’t much else of note except the evidence of last night. And the folded up message that Komaeda finally plucked up.

This is the room of someone of also questionable worth to Hope’s Peak. It’s only natural we were drawn together and that we’ll test the limits further.

He felt a little predictably sore, obviously, but he hadn’t a doubt in his mind that they’ll do more of this soon. The anticipation—makes him squirm a bit.

“…ehe. Hehe.” Giggling, he unfolds the paper. “Well, I should at least see what Hinata-kun wrote.”

It started off expectably.

Hey, sorry. I ended up oversleeping so I had to hurry to class. If you want to eat anything, you’re free to my pantry. It’s no big deal.

“Hinata-kun’s so kind, ahaha… Ah… Huh?

We should probably do this again, even if I’m not sure for how much longer we’ll be able to.

There were a couple of lines so viciously scribbled out that Komaeda couldn’t decipher them at all.

If you decided you’re done, that’s fine too. You can forget all about me.

I think things would be better that way.

Komaeda frowns, refolding it.

“What a worrying and unfortunate remark to make.” Still. “I’m not done quite yet. Let’s keep pushing until we get bored, Hinata-kun.”

He should write that down in a message of his own, but he doubts his handwriting would be legible enough so he’ll just tell Hinata Hajime that to his face.

Whatever will happen, if someone like me really is going to remain here and if our relationship really is going to continue, I want to see where it all leads up. It won’t be hope or despair, I’m sure, it’ll be something else.

And he can’t help but be curious about what.

Later, when he did talk to Hinata, he was sure that brief flicker of intensity in that hazel gaze suggested he felt the same.

#komahina #komahina secret exchange #fanfiction

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minyoongijjangjjangmanboongboong · 5 years ago

Text

Sweet Dreams Chapter Three

Lucid dreaming: The process of being aware that one is dreaming. Some researchers believe that in lucid dreaming, the individual may be able to change the outcome of the dream or control their degree of participation in the imaginary (dream) environment.

Description: Lee Eunbyul has been plagued with hellish nightmares since she was a child. Not the sort of nightmares you may be familiar with. There are no monsters to evade, no serial killers to outrun, no auditoriums of classmates in front of whom to stand naked. Instead there is just…darkness. Endless darkness. With professional help, the dreams come less frequently. But after moving away from home to live with her sister, Eunbyul’s nightmare returns, only this time it’s different. This time…she’s not alone.

What would you do if you had the chance to change the outcome of not only your dreams, but your life?

Genre: Romance, Drama, Fluff, Angst, Slow Burn

Pairing: Namjoon x (f) OC

Word Count: 8.4k

Tags: Non-Idol!Au, Producer!Namjoon, Bookstore Clerk!Seokjin, Potter!Jimin, Producer!Yoongi, Dancer!Hoseok

Warnings: Frequent mentions of mental illness, infrequent swearing and mentions of alcohol

A/N: Hey guys! Here we go again haha. I hope you all enjoy the chapter! I’ve been a little bit absent online these days just because I’ve gotten pretty busy with my classes, but I hope you guys are all doing well! Please don’t be shy and send feedback, critique, questions, theories, and comments my way. I’ll be sure to respond to all asks I receive within a day of receiving them!

And again, if you want to follow my Twitter, my username is @/plzpunchmebts. I’m super active over there and hopefully in the future I’ll do some livestreams/chats with you all!

- Mercury

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Masterlist

Weekly updates: Sunday, 1PM (PST)

Eunbyul

“How was therapy?” asked Gaeul as I wandered out into the living room. She held in one slender, tan hand a dry paintbrush, staring with crossed arms at the mural outside my bedroom wall.

She hadn’t seen me home since I left the day before, too busy at work. When I’d arrived home, I’d gone straight to my room anyway and lie on my stomach for as many hours as it took to fall asleep.

“Tell me how you’ve been,” said Doctor Kim the day before, lacing his fingers and resting his stubbled chin atop them.

He was a tall, slender man with a hairline receding into grey and dark brown eyes bespectacled with thin silver frames. Those were the eyes that saw through me, no matter what, since I was eight. We were sitting opposite one another: him with crossed legs on his leather recliner and me on the plush sofa, knees against my chest.

I cleared my throat and glanced out the window beside me, at the swaying trees and the buildings that eclipsed the horizon line. I hadn't been in the city since moving in with Gaeul, not willing to brave the long train ride. But that morning I’d awoken bright and early, making my way to the city bus so I could get to the train station in time.

“I bumped into an old lady this morning,” I said, thinking aloud.

He chuckled, but stopped when I turned wide eyes toward him. “Hm,” he said, more thoughtfully than before as he consulted the clipboard he always held on his lap.

I’d stolen glances at it a few times over the years, but his handwriting was illegible chicken scratch to me. Was that some sort of rule for doctors or something?

“I felt bad, but I felt like the bus driver was waiting for me to move, so I kept going. But I’m still thinking about it,” I said with a nod, letting my eyes wander around his bright, third-story office.

“Why is that, do you think?”

“Because she got off and I never got the chance to say sorry.”

“You wanted to apologize, didn’t you?” he asked, eyeing me over his glasses. “But you didn’t want to inconvenience the bus driver.”

“I guess,” I said, picking at the skin around my nails. I sighed. “I’ve been having a weird feeling these days.”

He cocked a furry brow. “What sort of feeling?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know.” I folded and unfolded my hands. “Like when you’re at the top of a really high place. Like there’s no railing.”

He hummed. “Does that have to do with your move?”

“Maybe,” I said softly as I lowered my legs to sit criss-cross. “But it doesn’t feel like that’s the reason. It feels like something more. Makes me feel really…uneasy. Unfulfilled.”

“Maybe you need to think on it a little more then,” he said with a clinical nod.

I swallowed hard and nodded. “Ah…yeah, maybe.”

He nodded. “And your family? They’re doing well?”

I smiled a little. “I’m seeing Mom today. Dad’s working, but he’s gonna come out for dinner, so…”

“Good!” he said, tapping his pen against the arm of his chair. “And friends? Have you made any yet?”

An image of that potter flashed through my mind. Capable hands at the wheel. Cherubic smile. Park Jimin.

I cleared my throat. “Uh, no. Not really,” I began, then sighed. “But I have a few places where I’m starting to feel comfortable. A bookstore and…maybe this pottery shop.”

“That’s great,” he said with a smile. “It sounds like this move was exactly what you needed.”

My heart leapt. Was that it after all? That feeling of wobbling on the precipice? I swallowed hard and gave Doctor Kim a smile. “Yeah,” I said with a nod. “I feel…a little bit freer there.”

“Like you got some distance?”

“Mhm.”

“And coming back? Has that made you feel any anxiety?”

I recalled the morning with that woman, how I was already on edge about coming back, about braving the streets of this city once more after finally leaving it behind. But now, sitting in Doctor Kim’s bright white, sterile office… “I feel…okay,” I said with a small nod.

His eyes lit up by a small measure and he smiled, just a little. “Really?”

I nodded. “I’m as shocked as you are.”

He chuckled. “Well…that’s great news,” he said with a nod. “Really great.”

I sighed and patted my knees. “I still feel really bad about that old woman.” I rubbed my forehead with a cringe as I remembered the events at Hyejin’s Books. “I also broke a flowerpot at the bookstore I like.”

He raised his brows. “Oh dear.”

“It caused a scene,” I said, shaking my head. “Everyone was looking at me and the worker said the pot was expensive and…” I paused my quick rambling and took a steadying breath.

“Remember, that was just one event. That’s not gonna happen every time to go back,” he said with a careful nod. “I know it might be hard, but I hope you go back to the store sometime soon. Sometimes we make things bigger than they are in our heads, you know? But you need to have places that make you feel safe.”

I raised my brows. “Oh…uh, I already went back. The day after it happened.”

“Really?” he asked, smiling again.

I nodded. “I replaced the pot.”

“You did!”

“Yeah.”

He gave me a full grin and nodded, eager. “That’s great to hear!”

I smiled a little. I guess that was a step forward, huh? “Yeah…”

“So,” he said, fixing me with a soft, knowing look. He leaned forward just a little. “Tell me about this bookstore.”

Gaeul eyed me expectantly, her attention assuaged from her previous staring match with the wall. Her long hair was restrained in a sloppy ponytail at the nape of her neck and her eyes, downward turning and too similar to mine to look at too long, were narrowed on me.

She raised her brows, paintbrush trapped between two fingers. “Byul?”

I smiled and nodded. “It was good.”

“And Mom and Dad?” she asked, still watching me as I sauntered toward the kitchen.

I yawned, giving my lower back a scratch. “They’re good.”

“And you?” she asked, scanning me from top to bottom. “Looks like you didn’t sleep much.”

I shrugged and poured a cup of coffee from the pot she left on the counter. “Woke up at four again and forced myself back asleep, but I’m still tired.”

She clicked her tongue and waved her brush at me. “Ask Doctor Kim to prescribe you with some sleeping pills or something!” she called, turning back to the mural with pursed lips. “What good is a therapist if he can’t give you pills,” she said under her breath.

I sighed, resting a hip against the doorframe between the kitchen and living room. “You know I don’t wanna medicate.” She mumbled something unintelligible and continued stewing over her piece. “You working on the mural again?” I asked.

She sighed. “Trying,” she said. “But Bob Ross works really fast…”

“Maybe you’re just a shitty artist,” I teased with a smirk.

She turned to me with her tongue stuck out and rolled her eyes. “Says you.”

“I’m gonna go to the bookstore,” I said, stretching my arms above my head as I sauntered barefoot toward my bedroom once more.

She watched me and popped her hip to the side. “Try finding a job while you’re at it.”

I meant to go to Hyejin’s.

Really, I did.

But somehow I found myself perched at the window of Park’s Pottery, my hands forming a shelf for my chin to rest upon as I watched Jimin work at the throwing table. It was mesmerizing, the subtle motion of his thumbs against the wet clay, the gentle sliding of his palms. I only intended to take a small look. It was still early anyway, and I figured he wouldn’t be open anyway. But it had been several minutes and still there I was, peering inside an open shop window on a busy street, eyes trained on the clay.

“You coming in?” he asked, and I jumped, nearly screamed. I saw a smirk on his lips from his profile as his eyes remained pinned to his work. “Or are you just gonna watch from the window?”

I swallowed hard and cleared my throat. I prepared to leave, turning on my heel and never looking back, but Doctor Kim’s words returned to me. Sometimes we make things bigger than they are in our heads, he’d said. But you need to have places that make you feel safe.

So I lingered there in the window, biting the inside of my cheek as I wavered between inside and outside. Likely sensing my indecision, Jimin turned around and raised his brows at me as the wheel slowed down. I clamped my mouth shut and let my head drop. Quickly, I shuffled to the front door and slipped inside, shutting it behind me with a click.

He chuckled and turned his music down just slightly, returning his attention to the clay bowl he was turning. Without a word, he continued his work and I slowly inched toward that lit corner of the shop, careful not to let the toes of my shoes catch on the rugs underfoot.

“Extra stool over there,” he said, sticking out his tongue and furrowing his brow as he focused. He jerked his chin toward the side of the display racks.

I grabbed the wooden stool and set it down on the side of the table, too close now to look anywhere else. “Is it slimy?” I asked, unable to contain myself as he reached his nimble fingers into a bowl of water and clay.

He chuckled. “It’s called slip for a reason,” he said with a soft smile, cheeks rosy from concentration.

“What’s it do?” I asked.

“Helps you form it.”

“What kind of clay is this?”

He laughed, loudly this time as he tipped his head back. He finally met my eyes, though his were half-closed from smiling. “I thought you were supposed to be quiet.”

I stiffened and glanced away, laying my hands flat on my lap and clearing my throat. “Sorry.”

He chuckled and again focused on his clay. “It’s china clay,” he said softly, eyes tender as they scanned his work. “Used for porcelain.”

“And you’re making a bowl?” I asked, watching him.

The small circle of off-white clay, no more than a few inches tall, seemed pliable beneath the weight of his fingers, like it could be anything he wanted it to be with the right pressure. He was laboring over the rim, pinching it between two fingers as he widened the opening.

“Mhm.”

“Are you gonna paint it?”

“Yeah, later.”

“How long does it take to-,”

“Eunbyul, right?” he asked, turning only his eyes up to meet mine. He was still smiling.

I nodded. “Mhm.”

“If you’re gonna watch me, you’ve gotta hold back a little on the questions,” he said with a nod. “I can answer them all when I’m not working.”

I swallowed hard and nodded, recoiling like a scolded child. I took to just watching him silently, but it seemed from the way he began glancing at me out the corner of his eye that that was also going to be a problem. He coughed a little, brows knit as he struggled to refocus on the clay. But I leaned in for a closer look, eyes wide as I watched him mold the base of the bowl beneath his fingertips.

Suddenly, the wheel slowed to a stop and Jimin was looking at me with soft eyes and messy hands. “Alright, I can’t focus with you watching like that.”

My eyes went wide. “Sorry! I didn’t realize,” I said, waving my hands as if I was surrendering.

He chuckled and shook his head. “Just…you’re a little intense,” he said with a gentle smile.

I flushed and turned away, picking at the skin around my thumb. “Sorry.”

Again, he laughed. “How about this,” he suggested, turning to me properly and leaning on his spread knees. “You reorganize my pottery rack and I’ll keep working. Once I’m done with five bowls, I’ll come get you and we can fire the ones I made yesterday.”

My heart raced and I sat up straight, nodding vehemently. “Sure! I can totally do that,” I said.

He smiled. “And you can still watch, just…not so closely,” he said with a laugh. “Feels like my dad’s watching.”

I nodded and rushed to my feet, wandering over to the racks as Jimin fired up the wheel once more and began smoothing a sponge over the inside of the bowl. I inhaled quick, preparing to ask what that was, but stopped and instead focused on the disorganized array of pottery splayed out on the countless shelves.

“Messy, huh?” asked Jimin from the wheel.

I glanced over my shoulder and caught a glimpse of his bowl through the spaces in the rack that separated us. He had finished the first bowl and set it aside on a table on his right. It looked perfect.

I pushed the stray hairs that had fallen behind my ear with a sigh. Cutting off all that hair made it harder to restrain it. “Not as bad as my room,” I said with a hum as I began organizing a few haphazardly places flowerpots.

He laughed. “You’re messy? Don’t strike me as the messy type.”

I shook my head. “I…I’m not really. Not at home anyway. I actually just moved here a few weeks ago so…”

“Ah,” he said softly as the lofi music bumped around the shop. “Why’d you move?”

“My sister lives here and I figured I needed…a change of scenery,” I said with a nod. How was I supposed to tell a stranger about all the events that led me to running off?

“You like it?” he asked.

I smiled a little as I grabbed for a misplaced cup, setting it on the shelf above with the others. “I’m starting to.”

He chuckled and with that, conversation quieted to nothing as he formed art and I put it in its proper home.

After a while with only lofi and the whirring of the potter’s wheel for noise, Jimin punctured the peaceful quiet with a loud, “Done!” and a long, loud exhale.

I jumped and rushed out of the racks to see Jimin sitting with a satisfied grin, leaning back against the wall, a set of five identical, unblemished white bowls to his side. His eyes were shut as he sighed heavily, apron and face and hands a mess with clay in various stages of dryness.

“You did it!” I exclaimed with a grin. I clapped my hands and he joined me. “Was it hard?”

He smiled and walked toward the sink across from the wheel, running his hands under the water. “Not so bad today,” he said, then glanced at the clock on the wall. “I needed to get done before nine-thirty so I had time to fire the other ones before opening.” He glanced at me with a conspiratorial smirk. “You ready to see it?”

I nodded. “Yes,” I said, serious as he scanned me.

But he broke the tension with a laugh and shook the water from his hands, turning toward the back door as I trailed eagerly behind. He led the way into the backroom where I stood astounded in the doorway for a few thoughtless moments. Bigger than the store itself, the backroom featured stairs that likely led upstairs to an apartment, several massive kilns, two separate spinning wheels, and a full studio of paintbrushes, dyes, and other decorating materials. It was grand, spacious, windowed with plenty of natural light, practically overflowing with unfinished pottery, and dead hot.

“Cool, right?” he asked with a grin.

I nodded, mouth agape, and followed him through the maze of benches and workspaces to one of the kilns in the back. There sat five dried bowls on a table beside the kiln, off-white and slightly dusty.

“I just sanded these this morning, so they’re ready for the bisque firing.”

“Bisque?” I asked, squinting at the clay as my glasses slipped down my nose a little from the heat. “Like soup?”

“No…it’s the initial firing so that the it becomes more durable and-,”

“Jimin,” I interrupted and he paused, eyes round. “I was joking that time.”

He opened and shut his mouth before eventually settling for a big laugh and a pat on my shoulder, like an uncle. “Funny,” he said, then rested his palms against the kiln. “Anyway, do you wanna do it with me?”

I blinked at him. “You sure you can trust me with that?”

He laughed. “I trusted you with my wares out there, I’m pretty sure I can trust you with this.”

I hummed, mulling it over, and eventually just offered a nod and timidly took the space beside him, nearest the pottery. “What do you want me to do?” I asked, meeting his eyes.

He smiled. “Dust them off and hand them to me so I can put them in the kiln,” he said with a nod. Then stiffened and looked down at me with wide eyes. “Carefully!” he added.

I chuckled and nodded, grabbing one of the bowls and dusting it off with the rag that lay beside it. “You’re really talented,” I said quietly as I worked on removing the dust.

Jimin smiled gently. “I was taught by a master anyway.”

“Your dad?”

“Mhm,” he said. “At a time in my life when I felt really…out of touch, he helped me understand that there are things even I can control in this world. Things that I can shape and change with my own hands.”

I felt my stomach flip and my heart kicked up. Something I can control… “Ah,” I said, realizing my hands had stopped moving. “Here.” I handed him the first bowl and he smiled in response. “You went through a time like that?” I asked, voice small.

He hummed a little. “Yeah. Everyone does, I think. Where you feel like you’re just being dragged along through life without any say.”

I blinked at him as he delicately placed the bowl in the kiln, still smiling. “And pottery helped you get out of it?”

“Well…to a certain extent. It taught me valuable lessons. Like…the fact that nothing’s permanent. If I don’t like a design while I’m throwing it, I can just stop and change it. Made me realize I’ve got more power than I think I do,” he said, pensive, as I began dusting the next bowl.

“That sounds wonderful,” I said with a sigh as I handed him the bowl.

He paused for a moment, staring down at me with a furrowed brow. “You say sad things sometimes,” he said with a nod.

I stiffened. “S-Sorry…”

He shook his head and placed the bowl beside its sister. “No, don’t be,” he said, leaning over the lip of the kiln. “Just…you remind me of myself a little.”

“Really?” I asked, and I couldn’t stop the swelling of pride that rushed through me. To be compared to someone like him…

He returned from the kiln with a smile. “Mhm,” he said, then jerked his chin toward the bowls. “Keep ‘em coming.”

“Ah,” said Jimin once the bowls were settled and the kiln was firing up, wiping his brow a little and glancing my way.

“So what now? How long until they’re done?” I asked, eager as I peered down at the round top of the kiln, still cool to the touch.

Jimin chuckled, patting dust from his hands onto his smock. “A few more days, unfortunately.”

My eyes went round. “Wait, so that’s not the end?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head and leading me out toward the main storefront. “The bisque firing is only the first round. Then they’re decorated and glazed and put back in.”

My shoulders fell as we entered the store. “For real?” I asked, dejected.

He grinned. “Well, if you-,” his thought was cut short by the ding of the front door bell.

A throng of people entered, all grinning as they began to peruse his wares. “Sorry, we were waiting for you to open since it’s five after,” said a woman, likely in her forties, with a tight-lipped smile.

I furrowed my brow. “Sorry, I was firing,” said Jimin with a pleasant grin, like the woman’s comment hadn’t made a single dent in his mood.

She bowed her head a little as she ducked into the racks and I glanced up at Jimin with a frown. “Kinda rude,” he whispered to me with a chuckle. “Business is business anyway.” He wandered toward the front door where he gently flipped over the sign, declaring Park’s Pottery open for business.

“You know her?” I asked, following closely behind as he walked back to the register and untied his smock, slinging it over the side of the counter. I stood beside him.

“Yeah. I get a lot of rich regulars who like to buy statement pieces,” he said with an easy shrug. “Don’t bite the hand that feeds you.”

I nodded. Even though I understood, something about the entitled attitude left a bitter taste on my tongue. I crossed my arms and watched as the woman turned a pastel blue vase over in her hands, showing it to one of the people who had stormed in with her. The group spent a few minutes wandering about as Jimin and I watched from the register, Jimin smiling and me squinting through the haze of my lenses to see the woman properly.

“You’re gonna scare her away,” whispered Jimin out the corner of his mouth.

I flushed and sat up straight, letting my eyes wander away, towards the front door and the open window. The city and the ocean just beyond. I sighed, arms still crossed, as someone called out from the stacks.

“I have a question!”

Jimin jumped a little before pasting on a bright smile and rushing toward the customer, leaving me to stew by myself at the register. Sighing, I leaned back against the counter behind me, shutting my eyes for a moment. Gaeul was right, anyway. I hadn’t been getting enough sleep the last few days. And, what’s more, I couldn’t remember my dreams. Normally, with the sort of dreams I had, it was impossible to forget them. Especially the bad one. The black room one.

I shook my head and rubbed my temples. If I didn’t remember my dreams, it was probably for the best. And besides, that meant I wasn’t having nightmares anyway.

“Excuse me?”

I opened my eyes and they locked onto that woman, the customer from before. With her dark hair restrained with a stylish pin, she eyes me with a stiff grin, eyebrows high as she held the blue vase on her hip like a child. I glanced around me, hoping perhaps she was talking to somebody else, but she was just…standing there on the other side of the counter. Watching me with pencil-thin brows knitting in concern.

“Did you not hear me, dear?” she asked, saccharine.

I wetted my lips and cleared my throat. “Um, yeah. Sorry,” I said, taking two steps toward her.

“I was hoping you’d ring me up. Seems Little Mister Park is a little busy,” she said with a chuckle.

I glanced over her shoulder to find Jimin talking, all animated hand motions and bright expressions, to two customers in the aisle between the racks, gesturing toward his pottery every few moments.

“Ah…,” I began. Don’t bite the hand that feeds you. I sighed and nodded once. I’d worked at a grocery store in high school anyway. I knew how to work a simple cash register. I could do at least that much. “Sure,” I said, opening my hands to take the vase.

She handed it over with a little hesitance, and watched with a wince as I set it down on the counter beside the register. I turned it over to find the price tag, handwritten by Jimin himself, stuck to the bottom. $20. I frowned at the beautiful thing. Long, slender neck good for holding flowers. A subtle gradient that lightened at the spout. Careful, delicate decorations in white at the bottom.

$20?

“Thirty,” I said with a nod, handing it back to her and punching in the amount on the register’s well-worn number pad.

She blinked at me, eyes wide. “I…it’s twenty, dear.”

I raised my eyes to meet hers and cocked a brow. “It’s thirty.”

She furrowed her brows and touched the gold necklace on her clavicle. “Gosh, I think that’s a little pricey,” she said with a pout. “It says twenty on the bottom.”

I nodded. “Yeah, but this is a one-of-a-kind vase. Like a collector’s item,” I said, then hummed and grabbed the vase, holding it against my side. “It’s okay if you wanna browse some more for something cheaper,” I said, raising my brows and staring at her without breaking.

She opened and closed her mouth a few times. “I…well, I guess I can afford it,” she said with a laugh. “Go ahead with the transaction, dear.”

I nodded and slid the vase back toward her as Jimin returned to the register, eyes wide as he watched me taking the woman’s bills and placing them inside the proper compartments. “Oh, that’s-,” began Jimin and I silenced him with an upward glance. He shut his mouth and I handed the woman her change.

“Oh, keep it sweetie,” she said with that same tight-lipped smile from before.

I returned it and placed the leftover change back in the register. “Thanks,” I said, waving as she headed for the exit, corralling her friends behind her.

Jimin peered down at me with a smirk. “You upsold her.”

I shrugged and shut the register. “I didn’t bite,” I said with a nod.

He laughed, crossing his arms with a nod. “Good.”

I glanced up at him and snapped my fingers. “Oh yeah,” I said. “About the bowls…what are they gonna look like when you take them out? Like, do they change color or something? And what’s in the glaze-,”

He laughed and, instead of responding, simply opened the register and pulled out a $10 bill. He slipped it into my hand with a smile. “Here,” he said.

I furrowed my brow. “What for?”

“For helping me out today,” he said. “No free labor at Park’s Pottery.”

“Huh,” I said, smiling softly at the bill. It felt…fulfilling to make my own money again. Even if it was small. “Thanks.”

He smiled. “How about you come back tomorrow,” he said, and my eyes snapped up to meet his. He chuckled. “So you can see the bowls. I don’t wanna explain everything to you.”

Slowly, a smile spread across my face and I pocketed the bill. “Alright,” I said, nodding.

“See you tomorrow then,” he said, ushering me to the front door. “For now, I’ve gotta get to work on some more bowls.”

I blinked at him. “But who’s gonna run the register?”

He laughed, the sound bouncing off the stout walls, as we stepped out onto the sidewalk. “Starting tomorrow, how about you?” he asked, cocking his brow.

I reclined against the creaky wooden chair I always occupied at Hyejin’s Bookstore, watching the water and the building windows glitter in the sunlight. Seokjin was the only employee in today, and he looked as nice as ever. Perhaps there was some small comfort in liking someone I knew I’d never be with, because just watching him as he rang up customers or shelved old books was enough to make me feel warm inside.

But as I sat there idly watching the scenery or watching Seokjin which were, honestly, interchangeable in their beauty, he seemed to take notice of me for the first time that day. And, quietly, he meandered over. He smiled down at me, without his teeth but it touched his eyes anyway. And my heart kicked up like a racehorse.

“Ah, uh…,” I said, unsure why I’d opened my mouth in the first place. I let my gaze fall to the table.

He chuckled and sat across from me. “I know you’re the one who left that flowerpot,” he said.

I stiffened and swallowed hard, glancing out the window. “Well…”

“Why?”

I was quiet for a moment. I’d been found out, hadn’t I? Sighing, I let my eyes fall to the table between us. “I’m…also the one who broke the first flowerpot.”

Seokjin laughed, a little too loud for so quiet a bookstore, and grinned at me like I was some sort of character. “So you left it behind and pretended not to?”

I shrugged. “Kinda.”

He smiled. “Cute,” he said softly before standing up.

My heart was really racing now, thumping in my ears like a heavy bass. I could feel myself heating up, and I was sure my cheeks were flaming red by now. And, judging by the way Seokjin was smiling, mischievous, he saw it too. I blinked at him for a long moment, a moment almost too long for my heart to handle, and he broke into another laugh.

“I’m Kim Seokjin,” he said, then tilted his head to the side with a smile. “But if you want, you can just call me Jin.”

“O-Okay…,” I said, avoiding his eyes and busying my hands with random tasks like straightening the hem of my shirt or adjusting where my coffee sat on the table.

He laughed again. “Here’s where most people would introduce themselves back.”

I stiffened. “Ah! Um, I’m Lee Eunbyul,” I said, nodding once.

He smiled and nodded, leaning back to examine me. “Nice to meet you,” he said. “I hope I get to see you around more.”

What more could he possibly mean? I already came in nearly every day…

“Um…yeah,” I said, nodding.

He laughed and gave me a wave over his shoulder and, once I was sure he couldn’t see me, I made a break for the bathroom. Silently, I turned on the water and set it to the coldest setting. I cupped a handful of water and splashed it on my horribly red face, desperate to cool myself down. Cute, he’d said, hope I get to see you around more. What the hell did that mean? Despite the rapid thumping of my heart and the redness that was spreading like paint across my cheeks and down my neck, I couldn’t help but smile, just a little.

And that’s when I heard it.

A sniffle. Just like the other day.

I stiffened and, as quietly as I could manage, I tiptoed down the row of toilets. There, at the furthest stall, the same sneakers on the same linoleum floor. I felt my throat constrict. Being here and hearing it once was forgivable. I could write it off as an isolated moment and walk away without guilt.

But being here twice and hearing it again…

But then again, if they were hiding in the furthest stall…didn’t that mean they really did want to be left alone? What if they shouted at me? What if it caused another scene? What if I couldn’t come to the bookstore anymore? Doctor Kim said it was important to have places where I felt comfortable…

But was my comfort worth more than this stranger’s safety?

I swallowed hard, cast one more look over my shoulder at the sneakers on the floor, and hated myself as I walked out into the hallway, resolving that I’d just pretend I hadn’t seen anything at all. It was probably what they wanted anyway…

I slammed my palm on the table beside where Gaeul sat, munching on a bag of chips. She jumped, eyes going round, and let out a little scream before realizing it was me and clutching her chest. She pulled her earbuds from her ears and lowered her laptop screen, giving me a glare. Smiling, I lifted my hand and revealed the $10 bill Jimin had given me.

“I didn’t even know you were home,” she mumbled, then eyes the bill, raising her brows. “Where’d you get this?”

“Earned it,” I said, grinning as I took the seat beside her.

She scoffed. “Doing what?” she asked.

“I’m gonna work for the pottery shop a few blocks down,” I said, pulling my knees to my chest and watching her face for a reaction.

To my surprise, she broke into a pleased smile and examined the bill between her two hands. “Wow, Byulie,” she said gently, still smiling.

“I don’t know how much he’s gonna pay me,” I said, poking my nail beneath a loose flake in the wood table with a sigh. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to contribute much to the rent-,”

“Shut up,” she said, waving her hand and sliding the bill back to me. “I was never gonna charge you anyway.”

I glanced up at her, fluffing her thick hair out behind her with shut eyes as she fanned the skin her loose white shirt left exposed. “You…why not?” I asked.

She opened her eyes and sighed, shrugging. “I dunno, Byul. With everything that’s happened…I don’t think it’d be right.”

I stiffened a little, eyeing her. “What do you mean?”

“Like…when we were kids, I could write off what happened because I was young and stupid, but after high school I was supposed to be there…anyway, I feel bad, alright? Let’s not dwell on it,” she said, waving her hand and glancing away toward the open window.

I furrowed my brow. “Isn’t that what we always do anyway?” I asked quietly, watching the gaps between my toes as they pushed into the dark wood chair beneath them.

Gaeul sighed, gripping the bridge of her nose. “Byul-,”

“Sorry,” I said, shaking my head. “I shouldn’t have said that. Just…forget it, okay?”

Her expression wasn’t good. Like all those times Doctor Kim insisted she come to therapy with me. Like she was having those thoughts I didn’t like. Gently, I stood to my feet and handed her the bill once more. She stared at it for a long time, at my hand extending toward her, before slowly, hesitantly, she took it from my fingers and met my eyes.

“I’m sorry,” I said with a nod. “But…I want you to treat me how you always do. Treat me normal. That way I can get back to normal.”

She blinked up at me, working her lower lip between her teeth with knit brows, before sighing and shrugging her shoulders. “Alright,” she said, then folded the bill and gave me a tiny smirk. “Although ten bucks isn’t gonna cut it for rent.”

I chuckled and nodded. “I’ll make more. I promise.”

“I’ll hold you to it.”

“Please do, Gaeul,” I said, smiling down at her. “Please.”

I awoke on the floor. Or…what should be the floor. For a long, disoriented moment, I didn’t realize I was dreaming. I remembered falling asleep on the couch to old TV shows, but nothing else. Gently, I rubbed my eyes and sighed. But as I did, I noticed someone sitting beside me. It took me only a moment to recognize him and, as I did, the memories returned like a rush to my body. He was already looking at me, smiling softly with his hands between his legs.

“Figured I should wait for you before going anywhere,” he said with a warm chuckle.

I smiled. “Thanks,” I said, taking his hand as he offered it to help me up. “How long were you here before I showed up?”

“Only a few seconds,” Namjoon said, running a hand through his messy blonde hair.

“It’s weird…are we falling asleep at the same time then?” I asked.

He shrugged. “Maybe,” he said with a yawn.

“Shit,” I said, fighting my own yawn. “I forgot me not getting enough sleep means you aren’t getting enough either.”

He chuckled and took a quiet step forward. “I don’t sleep much to begin with,” he said, clasping his hands behind his back.

Tonight he was dressed in a pair of black sleep shorts and a loose tee. I chuckled, noting how pale his thighs were compared to the rest of him. “Hot tonight?” I asked.

He glanced back at me, puzzled, but it only took a moment for the pieces to connect and he cleared his throat, pulling his shorts down a little to cover more skin. “I, uh…I didn’t know I’d have company.”

I laughed. “Hey, me either,” I said, gesturing to my own sad attire: a pair of pilling leggings and a sweater that itched in the placed not marred by holes.

He smiled. “Where to tonight?” he asked, glancing around the darkness.

I thought a moment, slowing my pace to a stop and letting my fingers tangle in front of me. I sighed at my shoeless feet. “There’s a place I kinda wanna see tonight.”

He raised his dark brows. “Oh, sure.”

I nodded and shut my eyes. I focused on every minute detail, every yellowing floor tile, every fluorescent light, every window overlooking the sports field, every tree that waved in the springtime wind, every door that sometimes creaked, every desk. And when I opened my eyes, there it was. I exhaled and leaned back against the desk behind me, staring at the blackboard, recently cleaned with half-circles of white dust arcing across the green.

The room was exactly as I remembered it. The windows, starting at hip-height and extending nearly to the ceiling, the podium at the front of the room, the short desks set equidistant, the polished floor. It was a perfect replica. The only thing missing was the people…

“High school?” asked Namjoon, examining the room.

“My class during my last year.”

Namjoon chuckled and nodded as he came to settle in the desk beside me. “I would have gone here too,” he said.

I smiled softly. “Why didn’t you?”

He hummed. “Moved away,” he said. “I was around nine.”

“Hm,” I said, sighing as I rested my chin on the desk like I used to in school. Always sleeping.

He smiled and joined me, draping on arm over the front of the desk and resting his cheek atop it. He met my eyes gently. “Why’d you wanna come here?”

“Don’t you ever just have the urge to go back to high school?” I teased with a smile.

He chuckled. “Never.”

“Me either,” I said, letting my forehead connect with the wood. I exhaled long and slow. “Just got thinking about some things today.”

“Mm,” he said. He didn’t pry. I was thankful for that. Instead, he gave me a smile. “Tell me about yourself in high school. Would we have been friends?”

I raised my brows and scoffed. “The real question is would you have wanted to be friends with me?”

He chuckled and sat upright, clearing his throat. “I would have.”

I felt my cheeks warm with his words and stiffened, sitting properly and pressing my fingertips together on my desk. “Well…,” I began, then smiled a little. “I had hair to here,” I said, pointing at the small of my back.

His eyes went wide. “Really? I can’t even imagine it.”

I nodded. “Big and fluffy too. Like my sister.”

He smiled fondly and nodded. “Tell me more. Did you do any sports? Clubs?”

I shook my head, still flushed, and glanced out the window at the perpetual blue of the sky, the unchanging tops of green trees. I rubbed my forearm. “Uh, no. I was pretty aimless. Still am, I guess.”

“Hm…”

“I had a few good friends. It was hard at first, but eventually…I trusted them a lot,” I said with a nod. I sighed and ran a hand through my hair, expecting it to keep going past where the ends brushed the tops of my hands. I cleared my throat and crossed my arms. “Anyway, I was quiet. Like now.” I sighed. “I guess I haven’t changed much.”

He shook his head. “I’m sure that’s not true.”

I shrugged. “I guess something did change,” I said, nodding once. “I’d been going to therapy since I was young, so in high school I was finally starting to feel a little normal. Now…I guess I don’t feel that so much anymore.”

“You’re normal, Eunbyul,” he said, then laughed. “More normal than most people I know, at any rate.”

I smiled a little, unable to fight it. “Ah, how’s that ex?” I asked, turning toward him.

He met my eyes with an uneasy chuckle. “Well, uh…,” he began, then sighed and let his head dip a little, sighing long and quiet. He rubbed the back of his neck with one big tan hand and I glanced away, toward the blackboard. “She stayed over with me last night.”

Something heavy in my chest dropped to my stomach and it was a sensation that was defiant and nameless. I turned only my eyes to him and found him still looking at the floor, at his feet. I scanned him from honey-blonde head to big toe. Hunched over at the back with his head lolled forward just a little, chin tucked, hooded eyes low…

He looked like a kid.

I sighed and reached out a hand, giving his broad shoulder a pat. “Don’t worry,” I said with a nod. “Nothing’s permanent anyway. You can still set your boundaries.”

He lifted his eyes to meet mine. “Are you sure?” he asked.

I forced a smile and nodded, letting my hand fall. “Mhm,” I said. “Positive.” I thought a moment, pursing my lips and guiding my glasses back up the bridge of my nose. “You can always go back, I think. Even when you mess something up,” I said, and an image of that broken pot from Hyejin’s surfaced in my mind. I smiled a little and played with my hands. “Even if it makes you feel uncomfortable or scared.”

He watched me carefully and, wordlessly, he reached out a hand toward my face. His fingertips ghosted over the skin of my cheek, brushing against it just enough to send a chill down my spine. My body heated up and my heart thumped in an unsteady rhythm. Eyes wide, I watched him as his own eyes focused singularly on something on my face. What was he going to do?

And furthermore…why was I going to let him do it?

Slowly, his fingers closed around the frames of my thin glasses and he slowly slid them off my face. Smiling, he pulled away and I felt like I could finally catch my breath. He stared at the glasses in his hand, lashes dusting against his cheeks as he focused. He set his lips thin and began pressing the nose pads closer together. So gently I wondered if he was doing anything at all, he pushed them from both sides without bending the frames.

“I wish I knew you in real life,” he said softly as he fiddled with the pads.

I felt too hot, like I needed a minute in the cool air outside. But I couldn’t bring myself to look away. His skin was like amber in the fresh sunlight, hair sitting in little imperfect waves, his features looked sculpted and his hands looked too big, clumsy as he struggled with the glasses. He was equal parts devastatingly handsome and charmingly human.

He returned his attention to me with a smile and carefully placed the glasses back along my nose bridge, pausing to release any hair he had trapped beneath the frames. Still smiling, he pulled away and left my flushed, staring at him with wide eyes.

“Sorry, I just noticed they keep sliding. I told you last time it was the nose pads, right?” he asked.

I blinked. “We don’t remember anything in the morning,” I said, unable to stop myself. “I forgot.”

He chuckled and nodded. “I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said, then smiled at me once more. “Thank you, Eunbyul.”

“What for?”

He shook his head. “For listening to me.”

I glanced away and scratched my forearm with a shrug. “I mean, I’m not just gonna ignore you in here.”

He laughed. “You know what I mean.”

I nodded. “Yeah,” I said. “Thank you too. For, you know…being here. Helping me.”

He shook his head. “Don’t mention it,” he said, then smiled. “For the record, I think we definitely would have been friends in high school.”

Eager to change the subject, I sunk my teeth into the opportunity he left open. “What were you like in high school?” I asked, staring up at him through perfectly stable glasses.

He laughed. “Take a guess.”

“Popular.”

He laughed again, louder this time, and waved his hands. “No! No, definitely not.”

“Then…?” I urged.

He smiled and turned away so he could recline in his desk. I joined him, but kept my eyes right on his face. It was almost like we were classmates. I allowed myself a moment to revel in it before I had to say goodbye. “I was quiet too.”

I raised my brows. “Huh.”

“Hard to believe?” he asked, eyeing me.

I nodded. “A little.”

He chuckled. “My sister used to tease me for it a lot,” he said with a sigh.

“You had a sister?” I asked, then shook my head. “And she teased you?”

“Well, I was artsy. I liked music,” he said, then smiled. “That’s what I do now. Make music.”

“Really?” I asked, leaning toward him to listen closer.

“Not as cool as it sounds, I promise,” he said with a laugh. “But, uh…yeah. I liked to write lyrics and make little beats on my laptop. So I was usually buried in my notebook.”

“How could we have been friends then?” I asked, thinking aloud. “Neither of us would have approached the other.”

He laughed, and this time it was unbridled, a dimpled smile lingering in its place as he settled back into his seat. “That’s a good point-whoa,” he said, lurching up in his seat.

He didn’t need to say anything. I felt it too. That unmistakable tugging at the chest, like something was yanking me from the inside. I stared at him with wide eyes. “Why was it so fast tonight?” I asked.

He shook his head, eyes darting around the rapidly darkening room. “I-I don’t know,” he said, brows knitting.

“Time…,” I began, fighting the pull. “Probably works different here, right?” I asked, desperate to know who had cut our time so short.

He nodded, obviously resisting too. “Yeah,” he said, then met my eyes and offered a tense smile. “Wish we could’ve stayed longer.”

“Me too.”

There was a wistfulness in his eyes, a tenderness too. He kept smiling. “Tomorrow night I’ll show you something nice, okay?” he asked, nodding once.

I returned it. “Okay.”

“Bye, Eunbyul,” he said, waving.

“Bye, Namjoon.”

4:03. I stared at the clock on the living room coffee table with a frown. 4:03, 4:03, always 4:03. Frustrated, I rolled onto my stomach and buried my face in the couch below me, kicking the blanket onto the floor where it crinkles against the plastic Gaeul refused to remove. I spread my arms and legs and let my face sink into the plush of the couch cushion. God. Between not remembering my dreams and waking up at this stupid time every morning, I was starting to wonder if I should schedule a supplementary appointment with Doctor Kim…

I sniffled and rolled onto my side, expecting my glasses to slide off like they always did in that position. But, somehow, they stayed perfectly in place against my nose. Gently, I poked the frames, trying to coax them into moving, but it felt as if the fit had changed. Maybe because I’d been sleeping in them lately.

I sighed and shut my eyes. Didn’t matter anyway. I shut off the TV and curled my legs against my chest, bargaining with the god of rest to give me even an hour more.

I arrived at Park’s Pottery at 8:55, standing at the open window for a moment as Jimin worked. I figured 9:00 was the right time to arrive, and coming early might make Jimin uncomfortable. So, instead, I took to watching him like usual, the surety of his movements. I understood, in a brief flash of clarity, what he meant about pottery teaching him that he’s in control. Indeed, it did look that way to me.

A loud honk roused me from my daydream and I turned to see what had caused it. A jaywalking teen in a school uniform was rushing across the street, right across the front of a city bus who gave another honk as they slowed down so as not to hit him. I winced as the kid kept running, throwing apologetic waves over his shoulder at the bus driver.

Thankfully, they made it across okay. I breathed a sigh of relief and adjusted my baseball cap against the glare of the morning sun. Slowly, the bus rolled past me, still gaining speed after braking for the student, and I watched all the passengers in the window as they passed. A young girl and what looked like her mother. An old man with his cheek pressed against the glass, chest rising and falling with sleep. And, in the second-to-last row, a young man whose face was a blur as he passed. The bus was going too fast for me to get a proper look at him. But I’d seen the ends of his honey-blonde hair.

And it was…unsettlingly familiar.

That feeling, the one I’d told Doctor Kim about, returned. Like I was standing at the top of a very high place.

“Eunbyul?”

I jumped and turned to see Jimin standing in the doorway, brows raised and hands a gloopy mess of wet clay. “Ah, hi,” I said, bowing my head.

He smiled and jerked his head toward the shop. “You coming in or what?”

I took one last glance over my shoulder at the bus that was rapidly retreating down the winding street. I could just see its square silhouette. “Yeah,” I said, turning on my heel and jogging toward him.

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outlyingthoughts · 5 years ago

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Portrait of Livia: Summer 19

Livia;

There are millions of babies born each year, on a planet rotating on itself in an ever expanding universe, an ever expanding population on a pressure-cooker-like planet. Infinitely small on the human scale, and yet our daily interactions, anxieties, priorities remain overwhelming. Weirdly sometimes all things and concepts stop making sense, like words you repeat a little too much, syllables and letters mashed up seem irrationally meaningless when we give them too much attention. In the same way, all the things and concepts that makes us, all those pains and losses sometimes lose sense when we overthink them, millions of breaths and tears shed but when laying mind clouded, nothing makes sense anymore.

When our minds trip on reality, the game is to wonder what is more irrational: giving up on years of socialization and society overall because nothing really matters or pouring too much meaning and fear in a life and future that is infinitely smaller than all things around us? Atoms, on their own, mean so much more than us, tiny pieces of matter that constitute the universe, far more significant than all the thoughts that will ever cross our lost neurons. Because life and things of the nature will irremediably travel across ages and spaces without me, you, us: humanity and what we give meaning to, society and expectations don’t really mean anything.

Obsessed by our irrelevance, we kill our souls over our empty meanings and fill our brains with more worries. As irrelevant as we are, the pain and wounds of being a living mortal remain the most vivid reality of our lives. One occurrence in an infinite number of realities and hypothetic dimensions, we end up here. Silver lining in the elevator, the higher we get, the more my heart presses against my chest, the fear of height and breath-taking view leave me at loss of words. Far away from home, in a city that goes too fast, we take a break from our priorities, gaping at the Tokyo view.

There are moments in our everyday life, where we just stay silent, either scrolling aimlessly and endlessly or lost in our own mental universes. In any case, I know I could remain in this floating in between. Alone and yet you’re here because with time you became an extended part of my brain. Seating in that in between, I watch the busy night from a rooftop and you’re tensely silent.

Night views make me happy, they used to remind me of lonely yet blissful nights on my balcony back in middle school, now they remind me of our first year at uni and falling asleep to the peaceful Den Haag skyline . For years, I dreamt of bigger and farther away city escapes, cutting shapes of metal in the neon darkness of megacities. One common dream of living in New York and I adopted yours of visiting Tokyo: You have a special bond with Japan, it ties you to the music you love, to love in general and million memories.

There’s a kanji on your shirt and your heart on your sleeve when you tell me about the things that make you happy. In this massive universe you’re drowning into, you absorb its darkness and exhale soft words that make us all feel okay, there is a nostalgic tint in the way you love nature that evoke great forests and empty spaces, magnificence of the Nature and how tiny we are. A recurring theme that darkens your mind is how insignificant we are, how manipulative are the things around us, tricking us into believe things, walking on eggs unsure of how truthful is our understanding of our surrounding; afraid of our own conspiracy theories, you smoke to forget but it drives the doubts further. Another friends of us once said: “what if weed is controlled and taboo within our societies because governments know it brings people to enlightenment or at least allows them to see the wider truths?”. I don’t want to know for sure as it’d either mean that we’re sickening our brains or current governments are sickening, or maybe both are true? See? tripping and overlapping realities, maybe the Matrix is the reality ? And while I try to flee from my own mind games and thoughts labyrinth, you dive deeper on a trip to the truth, as aching as it is, a desire for fairness and justice powering you.

No matter what, you find a way to escape, there is a distance in your eyes and a thousand kilometers in your silences, road trips to yourself because we’re too aware of the current climatic crisis to afford actual trips to peaceful northern landscapes. Still, from the Hague or Tokyo, we can distinguish the stars, trap their shapes into constellations that we don’t really want to believe impact our lives and shape our beings. Yet in a mystical search for meaning, looking at the stars to decipher our nonsense existence actually provides a bit of cohesion; us so small and useless and celestial bodies so big and widely stretched out yet still useless, one maybe guiding another, at least did: didn’t the great explorers use the sky as a map to walk or sail the earth? Ask Christopher Columbus, maybe we should blame our current US “world domination” on the stars that guided him to the Americas. Still, maybe we can’t afford to put all the fault “in our stars, but in ourselves, that we are underlings”. Maybe that’s why the world around us is so fucked up, maybe we all escape somehow, us from shitty environments we were brought up in, our world leaders escaping from their responsibilities and the heritage of past centuries’ rise of capitalism, ruins of colonialism, rejection of minorities and normative discourse preventing us all from seeing larger truths, starting from the Western centered way we were taught in school to the coming crises challenging to our generation and ignored by current leaders.

Apart from the miracles of Nature, art also connects you to the rest of your world, tears bled into ink then sung in studios: music; proving you that other people feel such ways. I relate to this feeling, but this is not about me. The primal surge that music creates in most humans makes it hard to not add a layer of personal thoughts to its discussion. And you know how personal it can be, as you make playlists for every single one of us, like a teenage lover in the 80s, you pour your love onto us, one carefully chosen song at a time. Playlists as effective coping system. Memories roll before your eyes, just like the modern Japan landscape before ours right now. Sometimes, you’ll venture to tell me how music makes you feel and it’s probably even more elevated that how high we are, on the rooftop of a skyscraper; just like music, architecture is an art you are sensible to, and soon this manmade landscape will make you ache with nostalgia, it’s odd to think that for years, you’ve dreamt of visiting this country, blissful waves of hope and bright future where you can move freely and visit this place for the first time. Now your first time here is almost over and like a song attached to a person about to eclipse from your life, a twinge in your chest shuts you out of our world, deep into yours. Calm and peaceful because there’s nothing we can do against time flying faster than our hearts, you surrender and try to envision what artists think when they write those sad songs you add into our playlists, your curiosity in people’s thought is another escape from your own racking brain.

Sometimes, I’ve felt lost in time and spaces, consumed by the fear that no one’d ever feel nor understand that aching pressure in my chest and pinches in my guts: empathy and intense feelings due to my surroundings and people I love. Yet one day you told me you knew how I felt because you felt the same way, overwhelming pain that seizes one’s soul and tears it down with nostalgia and empathy.

It was a suffocating but clear night back in my old room, in my old life, on a summer break that felt like a too-long pause on the sideline of the highway I’m living on now. We were on the phone and gazing out, I was trying to collect in my head memories dripping of bliss, epiphany of why I’m so much happier now, because I know I have you all and you told me: “I get my happiness through you all”. Told me that your parents don’t understand why you keep talking about your friends but it’s because you live through them. I’ve rarely felt this happy in my life, because never had anyone phrased something i relate this much too. And I knew staring into the dark, that as far as I was from our new home, as hard as being surrounded by the ghost of my past was, the bond that we had created over the nine past months was an everlasting one, if you will, full of sisterhood, care for each other and faith in friendships. As much as it’s hard for you to believe in and trust people, we have a lifetime to work on our insecurities.

No matter the dozens of atrocities we see, whether they are corrupted leaders showing you the worst of humanity or couples fighting their ways to hatred, making me fail to understand love, somehow an intuitive faith for the future convinces me that we’ll be alright as long as we have faith in our friends and loved ones. You swiftly swing from one side to other on your seat deep in your thoughts as deep as I am in my fears of loveless life. Sharing and caring, as hard as it gets, is the only cure we found so far. You’re a sponge and hopefully we, your friends, provide the sun you need to cast a brighter light on your life, because we all care about you, all of us that have stuck around, here to stay as long as the stars and pressing global warming will allow us to.

Still swinging on the metallic chair of the rooftop bar, eyes deep into to the dark, you sip a peach flavored tea, small reminders of home. The wheels turn fast and hard behind your eyes, they calculate, divide and jump into conclusion by the minute, and I wonder what is dividing your Libra soul again. There’s guilt in your aura, it’s in the weight crushing your shoulder, in the way you carry your pains around. Under pressure, we all want to pop the champagne bottle that you are, release the bubbles, let you be bubbly and pure like this foamy and rich liquid instead of the tame version of Livia you serve us because you’re afraid of the million powers you hold in. Being so intense in a world empty of meaning makes you absorb the surrounding’s emptiness, only confusion appears to cloud what the world sees in you, full of light and brightness: dark only because of the world we live in. A paradox you say it yourself.

In the thousands lives and adventures that we’ll have, I know there’ll be this question hanging out from your eyes, one that questions what you are and what world we are in. Unsettling in my small certitudes, we know there is still a whole world we have to tear down to make room for our vision. The struggle is the path, the hardened way to our glistening futures, and as you reflect all the energy of Tokyo, boiling under your skin, I know there are neon lights to film, pavements to run onto and lyrics to shout from the top of my lungs. And stories to tell my kids on how “your mom and aunties Livia & Zeineb went to blah blah or used to make random ass movies” or whatever is our next adventure, we’ll tell them.

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toasttz · 6 years ago

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How to make games: MMORPGs

Hey, you! Does your current job not fill enough of your life with soul-crushing misery? Have you ever stopped to consider 'man, I wish I could get into a line of work that involved me wasting more time away from home and friends but I would have to pay infinity dollars for the experience'? I have to say that's a very particular set of tastes, but I play Mei in Overwatch too, so I understand having a weird sadist/masochist relationship with our gaming experiences. I'd also say that it sounds like you're in the market for an MMORPG, which is good because that's what we'll be talking about today! Making an MMORPG is easy, since it requires literally less effort than the last two genres we've covered: no one actually expects you to innovate past the good-old WoW standard of gameplay. So steal the most generic Tolkien stereotypes you can bring together, but leave out all that "Jesus" and "patriotism" stuff that accompanied Tolkien's work, because our primary market is going to be east-Asian countries and 13 year olds with money burning holes in their pockets. Making a character creator is as easy as going through the process of making one yourself, as you start with the obvious stuff like species. Species should include, but never exceed: Humans who are neither good nor bad at anything (but called some kind of stupid fantasy name), Elves for sissy magic users, Dwarves for your tanks, some kind of dragon hybrid for the fucking furry degenerates, and the obligatory Sexy Race which you'll slap all over your ads that show up on the sides and bottoms of webpages when viewed by morons who don't know what AdBlock is for. If the above doesn't address it, you should also pick a class, so just steal them from early D&D: Fighter, Mage, Cleric, Thief, etc. No more than that - gotta save room for those sweet, sweet expansion packs so you can fleece your players for "Monthly Server Maintenance Fees" in addition to the price of the game. Never mind that 'sever maintenance' is just ripping out old HDDs and putting in new ones and that HDDs are dirt-fucking cheap, you need to fleece these fuckers for gold like your name was Jason. (That's a smart joke.) Your art style should revolve around the most generic mono-themes you can steal assets for, preferably in the Unity engine since that won't make it look like unabashed shit or anything. For music, just hit royalty free music websites, because everyone's just gonna put Youtube in the background when they play anyways, so fuck it. We got money to earn and gameplay to digest, so let's get what your players can expect. Remember, making each class distinct is important as all members of a given party operate like different members of a family unit. For instance: DPS Roles are the family dog. They get excited easily and rush into situations without regard for life or limb, usually making way more noise than they have earned any right to make. They think they're the leader of the party since they insist on being front and center of every encounter even though they are not. Tank Roles are the Asian helicopter moms. They feel the need to live vicariously through their DPS compatriots because the damage they dish out is, frankly, paltry and any time the situation isn't about them - they make it about them somehow. They believe they are the leaders of the party, though they obviously rarely have control over the most immediate threats, let alone the entire party of sociopaths. Support Roles are the stern fathers. They can't immediately intervene on the behalves of the above roles no matter how much they want to, so they stand back and grant all the help they can muster and, at best, will be largely ignored despite the fact that their movements will dictate the pace, flow, and results of combat above all others. They will only be recognized for what they do when they fail in their tasks, which makes this metaphor hit a bit too close to home for most. Just remember: Supports who aren't active in their party are every Raid Boss's future wingman. Don't come crying to me when your DPS Daughteru comes home dating one of those degenerate dragon-people! Anyways, the pacing of the game is paramount, since making an "end" of an MMORPG is essentially illegal, so you need to make it so it's easy to get to somewhere between levels 30-50 before you just start scaling things on a logarithmic basis. For those who don't math good like what I do: your first three level ups should happen more or less instantly upon completion of the tutorial and the players should be able to make good progress over the next few dozen levels as they play with their friends and make larger parties for stronger instances. However, you're not gonna be wringing any monthly server fees out of these plebs if you make it that easy on them, so around level 40-ish or so, just start slapping higher multiplier values on the Exp. required to level up to the point where solar eclipses happen with greater regularity than the "LEVEL UP" chime. By the time players hit this wall, they'll make one of three choices: that they will persist through the grind because the game is literally all they do outside of work now, they will ragequit (and hopefully forget to cancel their credit card subscription to the game with some luck!), or they'll resort to the premium cash shop. What, you didn't know your MMO needed a premium cash shop? Well it does, wake up and smell the lack of ethics, game dev! For some paltry sum between 1 and infinity bucks, your players can buy some kind of in-game premium currency, as mentioned in my gacha explanation. In fact the comparisons here are apt as this, too, is morally dubious and really is for trying to wrench even more money out of your players for something that they can rest more or less assured that you aren't gonna update meaningfully until Halley's Comet passes through the solar system again. However, for some amount of this premium currency, they should be allowed super powerful weapons and armors that completely invalidate any sense of pacing up until the low 70s level range. This will help them play further into the mindless grind until they are playing at least for a few months (worth of fees) time. Once hopelessly addicted, they'll slog through the remaining 30 levels or so of grind, ideally. All other premium currency items should be cosmetics - preferably cosmetics with expiration dates so you can fleece them for their fashionista tendencies repeatedly. If you have any pangs that make you think this might be "not exactly on-the-level", hey, you're right! You're really getting the hang of modern game design! After that, it's time make expansion packs! The beauty of this is that not only have they paid for the base game and monthly fees, but now they get to buy the game ALL OVER AGAIN! Slap on a few extra islands and some quests to populate them and sometimes raise the level cap. The design is the easy part. The name is where you will likely struggle. However, using our advanced scientific algorithms, we have deduced that the ideal title should follow the template: "Adjective Noun Adjective" plus or minus a definitive article and a couple of "Of"s. Do you not know what those are? That probably means you're at the right IQ level to actively make MMOs! Or to play them! Oh yeah, every second expansion pack you should add an additional class - preferably one that invalidates the classes of an earlier build, so as to subtly 'encourage' making a new character. But the prereqs for getting these should be difficult to the point of patent absurdity. After all, you can't class change to a "Bumtickler" until you get that level 85 Pirate! Congrats! You're a soulless monster who cares naught for their fellow man. You are now a living example of gaining the world and losing your soul. I hope the Faustian bargain was worth it. You're welcome.

#satire #video games #games #MMORPG

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greyias · 7 years ago

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FIC: Dance with the Devil (7/7)

Title: Dance with the Devil Fandom: SWTOR Pairing: Theron Shan/f!Jedi Knight Genre: Angst, H/C, Action, Fluff Synopsis: Like everything in his life, Theron's biggest problems were somehow of his own creation. Warnings: See Part 1

It was the scent of her close by that roused him.

Usually it was a faint clean smell of Trillium soap, a lingering scent of metal polish from the pristine maintenance of her lightsabers, combined with something fresh and sharp — almost like the fresh cut grass on an Alderaanian summer day. All of those were there, but the scent of the soap was hardly detectable, almost drowned out by the tang of sweat, grime, and the antiseptic and sterile smell of the medbay. The warmth of a body pressed close was almost enough to lull him back to sleep, but he found himself cracking his eyes open anyway.

The sight that greeted him was not an unwelcome one. A smaller lithe body was firmly snuggled into him, with her blond head pillowed on his arms. So close he could feel every exhale of the heavy breaths of deep sleep combined with the uncomfortable sensation of a thin line of drool dripping down from her mouth onto his bicep.

Approaching a year in to their time on Odessen, it was an increasingly familiar sight for him to wake up to, but one that had yet to lose its charm completely. Although he did find the image a bit more adorable when the drool was puddling on a pillow rather than his arm, but considering the circumstances, it was a small price to pay. He wasn’t sure the last time he had seen her resting quite so comfortable, certainly not since Valkorion had made his reappearance. That she was doing so now, despite the events of the past few days, lit a fire deep within his belly.

Her pallor had improved some since the last time he was awake, a hint of her normal color starting to surface beneath the unhealthy gray that had taken up residence. Apparently her prediction about Valkorion’s dedication to preserving the health of the body he had taken up residence in was proving accurate. A fact he was both comforted and still very disconcerted by. He hated that the monster that had nearly broken her once before was free to continue poking at her mind on a daily basis — but Theron couldn’t help but find the smallest bit of relief in the fact that there was a power out there beyond himself trying to keep her on this plane of existence. At least for now.

Theron had no delusions that the evil presence that had devoured every soul on Ziost had suddenly turned over a new leaf out in the depths of Wild Space. Whatever the malevolent spirit was up to, it definitely didn’t have the best intentions in mind for the woman that was resting peacefully in his arms. Every single thing that Theron had been able to unearth about the Sith once known as Vitiate had led him to believe that every action taken was to further his own goals. That, combined with Dirai’s mad ramblings about the spirit’s future plans for his current host, had Theron forcing himself to keep from pulling her tighter into his embrace.

Ever since he had first set foot on Odessen, there had been an almost queer sense of belonging for the former spy. Prior to his time with the Alliance, the SIS had been the closest that he’d ever felt like he had been a part of something bigger than himself, like he had been making a difference in the galaxy at large. If he didn’t quite have the words for how that simple act of acceptance from the odd collection of individuals that made up the organization they were both now leading, then the definition for what he felt for the woman next to him eclipsed even that. He’d never had the normal family life growing up, but ever since he’d found himself drawn into her orbit, he’d finally found something that started to resemble that stability that had always eluded him his entire life.

He was content to watch for now, the slow rise and fall of her chest, the slight twitch under her eyelids that let him know she was dreaming. Hopefully it was one of the more pleasant dreams, if her neutral expression was anything to go by. The nightmares hadn’t revisited him since she had performed whatever Force mojo to pull the dark corruption out of his body and into her — and so far, it looked like she had been spared that at least.

It was still beyond him how he’d gotten someone quite like her to fall for him, and was still waiting for the day when he would wake up to realize that all of this had been some elaborate, cruel dream his mind had conjured up. The fact that he kept waking up to this reality was still something he was trying to get used to, something he wasn’t sure he would ever quite be able to wrap his mind around. They were nearing the one year mark and the novelty had yet to wear off. Surely it would at some point and reality would set in. Every day that this stretched on, even if it wasn’t completely perfect in every way, leant some credence to the fact that maybe he’d found something nearing permanent. Or at least it would be, if they could find some way to wrest her free from the devil from inside of her.

Theron wanted to give a name to the feeling that bubbled up inside him in quiet moments such as these. Sometimes the thought of saying it aloud made him break out in a cold sweat while a numb sense of panic gnawed from some part of him that he couldn’t quite shut out. Other times it felt like a giant weight hanging from his shoulders, and if he could just get out that innocuously simple phrase, maybe everything would feel lighter. And all of that was just his own baggage, before he even factored in their unwanted third wheel. The one they couldn’t show any weakness to lest he pounce on the opportunity to snatch her away for good.

“You’re thinking too loud,” she murmured quietly into his arm, words muffled.

“What?”

Grey’s eyes cracked open a slit, sleep still obviously weighing her down. One hand lightly ran up his chest as she gingerly shifted her position on the cot. “I can practically hear you brooding. Makes it hard to sleep.”

“I do not brood.”

“Yeah, right.” She let out a small huff of laughter, the cracked eyes sliding back shut. “Pull the other one.”

“I’m just quietly contemplating.”

“There’s nothing quiet about that frown.” She murmured, hand sliding up his chest to wrap around his neck. “You don’t have to say anything aloud for me to see that you’re worrying about something.”

“Your eyes are literally shut right now.”

“Would you believe me if I said I used the Force to tell?”

“No.”

“How will you ever know if you don’t believe?” She murmured softly, looking like she might fall back to sleep as she settled against his chest.

He let one of his hands drift down to her hip, softly tracing the curve of it with his palm. “I’m more of a tactile guy.”

Her lips twitched, obviously suppressing a smile. “You are at that.”

Theron decided to lean into the moment, curling around her as much as their cramped position on the cot would allow. He buried his face into hair, still soft and silky despite the fact that she likely hadn’t seen a shower in about as long as he had. As heavenly as getting clean sounded, it was hard to justify moving from his current position. For a long time they just lay like that, and he might have thought she’d fallen back asleep if it wasn’t for her fingers idly playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Did you have any dreams?” His question was nearly lost to the quiet, but he felt her still for a moment, before her fingers resumed their rhythmic motions.

“No,” she said softly, “at least none that I can remember. I suppose I should be grateful. I know yours were not very pleasant.”

“How?”

“You were quite delirious. I tried talking, but I don’t think you heard me.”

“I don’t know… it’s all fuzzy.” Snatches of the nightmares came back, and he tightened his hold ever so slightly. “But I think maybe I did? A little at least.”

Pulled in so close, he couldn’t actually see her smile, but he felt the soft exhale of her breath on his chest, and felt her cheek twitch upwards where it was pressed against him. “I am glad.”

That strange warmth that only she could bring filled his chest, and he found himself speaking without even really realizing it. “You’re amazing, you know that, right?”

“Theron…”

“No, you are,” he continued, quietly, “what you did, I… how can I even begin to repay—”

“We are partners,” she said firmly, pushing against his chest until there was enough distance to catch his eye, “and we do not keep a tally on such things.”

“Probably for the best. Pretty sure I’d never catch up at this rate.”

“You are too hard on yourself.”

“Am I? How are you feeling right now?”

“I am,” she hesitated for a moment, “okay. It is nothing to worry about.”

“I’m pretty sure I’m incapable of that at this point,” he shot back. “This is my fault, I should be the one dealing with the fallout of that. Not you.”

“This is not all your fault, Theron. Please do not beat yourself up over it.”

“Pretty sure I skipped that day in SIS training.”

“I am not blameless either.” Her fingers twitched against his neck, tugging lightly at the hairs she had woven her fingers through. “I know I have been… distant lately.”

“Don’t take that on too.” He leveled her with a serious look. “I was the one who screwed up here. All of this is on me.”

“Your decision to go to Skeressa to try and find a way to help me was your own, yes. But why did you feel compelled to make it?”

He pressed his lips together tightly, looking away. His reasoning for this sidetrip into hell was a jumble of everything that had been building up, and at this point he wasn’t really sure where one excuse began and another ended. But each one had a common thread, and they all led back to the unwanted presence in her head. The one who had been conspicuously silent ever since Theron had woken up from his nightmares.

Out of habit, he loosened his tight hold on her so he could start slowly tracing the shell of his ear — their private little signal — but she seized his hand, stopping him before he could finish the motion.

“No,” she said firmly, “don’t.”

“But he’ll hear—”

“I don’t care.” Her eyes began to shimmer and she clamped them shut, trying to shove the emotion away. “I had time to think, Theron. I had nothing but that while you were slipping away.”

“I know, and I’m sorry—”

“No, you don’t know,” she insisted, “because I stopped talking. Ever since he came back, I’ve been so focused on trying to put up this front so he could not see any weakness to exploit.”

“Stars, I know that.” Even if it felt like a kick to the gut sometimes being cut out, he wouldn’t deny her any means to deal with that daily torture. “I understand why too.”

“Was it fair for me to ask that of you?”

“You never have to ask,” he insisted.

“As romantic as that is, it’s not very practical,” she whispered. “Did you feel like you were free to bring any concerns to me? Or did you feel like you too had to hide things for fear of him listening?”

“I…” He was glad that she wasn’t looking at him right now, because he was pretty sure that his face was showing how close she was hitting with that question. “I just want to help. And would never ask you to do anything to risk giving him control. I know what that monster did to you.”

“But am I not still hiding if I do that?”

He didn’t have an answer for that. At least, not one he wanted to say aloud.

“In trying to put up an invincible front and pushing away those that matter the most, am I not just letting fear of what he might do with that information isolate me? Am I not just letting him dictate my actions in a different way?” The shimmer gathered on her lashes, the collected moisture threatening to spill over on her cheeks.

Theron couldn’t stop himself from reaching out, brushing the unshed tears away. “What are you saying?”

She opened her eyes, still watery with intense emotion, but she graced him with a confident and bright smile that he had not seen in what felt like an eternity. “I refuse to let that monster control me any more.”

A fresh burst of pride swelled up in Theron’s chest, filling him until it almost felt like he might burst. He couldn’t stop himself as he surged forward, capturing her lips in a deep, heartfelt kiss that he hoped could express one-tenth of the emotions surging through him. Her fingers tangled further in his hair as she pulled him in, eagerly, almost clumsily, returning the action in kind. They were both nearly breathless, but unmistakably grinning by the time they came up for air, noses bumping as they tried to settle back into place.

His thumb brushed across her cheek, still slightly warm to the touch, but noticeably cooler and full of more color than earlier. Theron didn’t care if he looked like the biggest dope in the world, he couldn’t stop himself from marveling in wonder at the reappearance of the woman who he’d almost thought gone. “That’s my girl.”

Somehow that just made her beam brighter, although he wasn’t sure how it was possible.

And beyond that smile, he could see a much deeper, nearly unquantifiable emotion shining in her eyes. Something that made his throat constrict a little as three small words tried to bubble up from his chest. It seemed like maybe this was a proper moment to actually give voice to them, but try as he might, he couldn’t seem to work them past the lump in his throat.

She seemed to sense his struggle, as the bright smile faded to something gentle and knowing, her breath catching a little. Sometimes he wondered if she could read his emotions through the Force, or if he had just gotten that bad at hiding his true feelings where she was concerned. It probably didn’t matter either way, as this wasn’t something he wanted to hold back on anymore.

“I…”

He trailed off as she looked at him expectantly, possibly even suspecting what the rest of that sentence was supposed to be. It should have been easy to finish, but it seemed like his tongue had grown thick again, his chest feeling suddenly tight as panic closed around him like a vice. Theron Shan had faced down countless horrors, routinely laughed in the face of danger, but when suddenly freed to utter three simple words he found himself frozen in terror.

Not to be deterred, he tried again, but he couldn’t even get the first word to form. The phrase was so innocuous when he’d heard other people utter it, usually in holos or in passing, but try as he might, he couldn’t get his tongue to wrap around it. He squeezed his eyes shut in frustration, the feelings of warmth and joy chased away by the bitterness of self loathing.

Damn it. How was he so bad at this?

Her expectant look faded, but the smile didn’t as her fingers untangled themselves from his hair so they could gently cup his cheek. He reluctantly cracked his eyes open, wishing he didn’t look so miserable for being unable to give voice to torrent of emotions rushing through him.

“You can tell me anything,” she whispered, “but only if you want to. And it’s always all right if you don’t.”

But he wanted to, that was the problem. He’d wanted to for a very long time, and he’d thought that the biggest obstacle in the way of that was their third wheel using that against her. Her bold declaration had removed that roadblock, and with it, his last excuse to cling to. There was only one thing preventing him from saying it now — the same thing that had always been. Like everything in his life, Theron's biggest problems were somehow of his own creation.

“I do,” he finally choked out, “I just… what I mean is… I want to. It’s not you, but I… I’m not good at this part.”

She silenced him with a gentle peck to his lips. “You’re better than you think.”

It was a nice gesture for his ego, but that had never needed any pampering. Unfortunately the moment had passed, chased away by his embarrassing fumbling. Maybe if he just changed the subject, the awkwardness he’d brought on would fade without any further comment.

“I stink.”

She let out a heavy sigh. “Theron, that’s a bit of an overreaction.”

“No, I mean I smell. I definitely wouldn’t say no to a shower.”

If she was disappointed in his obvious redirection, she didn’t show it. “Don’t you think you should attempt just standing and walking first?”

“Why crawl when you can run?”

“No running,” she said firmly.

“You could always join me in there.”

“Are you saying I stink?”

“Never. At least not to your face.”

“I’m not sure if I should feel insulted.”

“Hey, I’m just saying if you’re worried, you could always join me — make sure I don’t try anything too strenuous.”

“You’re incorrigible.” She rolled her eyes. “And my refresher is all the way on the other side of the ship. Unless you want to chance Guss walking in.”

“Fine, you win. We’ll just stink for a little while longer.”

“Small victories,” she muttered sarcastically. “But we probably should change your bandage before anything else.”

“Probably,” he admitted somewhat reluctantly, “although that does require moving.”

“I’ll move,” she protested, “in a second.”

He let his hand drift up and down her back, the warmth of her skin seeping through the thin material of her undershirt. “No need to rush on my account.”

“Theron…”

“Hmm?”

“You’re going to put me back to sleep if you keep that up.”

“You make that sound like a bad thing.”

“I should be taking care of you,” she mumbled, “not napping.”

“It can wait a little longer.”

His fingers drifted under the thin material of the shirt, gently kneading the taught muscles of her back. The feeble protests seemed to die away as she leaned into the motion, eyes drifting shut. It was a testament to how exhausted she was that she didn’t try to keep up her typical veneer of propriety. He was used to gently cajoling her a little more before the half-hearted protests dried up.

Her natural tendency to try and take care of everyone around her sometimes drowned out her own needs. That was where Theron usually had to step in. He might still have been tired and sore from his own ordeal, but he was more than happy to do his part to take care of his girl. Even if that was as simple as convincing her to take a well-earned rest.

Her breathing had just started to even out, when a sudden shout from the door had them both nearly jumping out of their skin.

“Commander, I know you said not to disturb—oh, is this some sort of new Force healing technique?”

Grey’s cheeks flamed bright red as she buried her face deep into Theron’s chest, unable to completely muffle her embarrassed groan. From his position on the cot, Theron could just catch Guss’s eye, and gave the Mon Calamari a withering glare that was promptly ignored.

“It seems very complicated if you ask me,” Guss continued on. “Don’t you think kolto would work better?”

Theron dropped his voice low to a conspiratorial whisper. “You give me back my blasters and I’ll shoot him for you.”

“Don’t you dare.” Her protest was muffled by the fact that she was still hiding her face in his chest.

“Not even a tiny blaster bolt?”

“No.”

She let out a heavy sigh before reluctantly pulling herself out of his embrace and struggled to sit upright.

“I’m sorry, Guss,” she said tiredly, “what was it that you needed?”

“Darth Eyeliner is on the holo waiting for an update.”

“Lana better not hear you calling her that,” Grey cautioned.

Theron couldn’t help but arch an eyebrow at the moniker, unable to completely smother his mirth despite his lingering annoyance at the rude intrusion.

“She can’t Force Choke me over the holo.”

“Guss.” She gave him a stern look.

“Fine, fine. I can tell Lord Beniko you’ll call her back.” The last bit he muttered under his breath. “Again.”

“No, I can talk to her.” She scrubbed a tired hand across her face. “I’ll be there in a moment.”

The Mon Cal looked skeptical, but reluctantly trudged back out towards the common area where the Defender’s main holo-comm lived. It was unclear if that was because of his teacher’s fatigue and shortness with him, or possibly just having to deal with an impatient Lana Beniko. Not that Theron blamed him on the latter part. When Lana reached the end of her patience, it was generally a good idea to find somewhere else to be. Not that he had extensive experience on that particular subject.

Grey took in several deep breaths to steady herself and gather her strength. Theron gently grasped her hand, feeling her stiffen for a moment before she relaxed again.

“You okay?”

She nodded. “Just a little tired.”

“You can call her back later.”

“She’s just worried,” Grey said quietly. “Last time we spoke, things weren’t… it wasn’t good. I should let her know everything is okay now.”

That seemed like a bit of a stretch of the truth, but they were probably closer to it than the last time the two had spoken. In her current state, the Jedi would probably raise a few concerns, or at the very least a few eyebrows. Almost half of her hair had fallen from the normally perfect ponytail, and several more stray hairs poked out from the leatheris wrap that usually held it all in place. Had he not been still on the mend, the sight might have lit a fire of completely different type inside of Theron.

As it was, he found himself giving her hand a soft squeeze, gaining a curious look.

“I just want you to know that I…” His throat still felt a little tight, so he swallowed, trying to force something—anything—out in the vicinity of what he wanted to say. “I’m glad it was you who came for me. You’re always there for me and… that means a lot.”

Her lips twitched up into the ghost of a smile.

“You mean a lot to me.” His voice sounded a bit hoarse, but he forced himself to continue on before they dried up again. “Hells… do you know what I’m trying to say?”

The words might not quite have been right, still clumsy and awkward as it always was for him when it came to this sort of thing. But at least the sentiment was there. And she’d heard it.

“I know.” She dipped down, lips brushing against his forehead. “And I feel the same.”

In the end, that was all that really mattered.

#swtor fanfiction #fanfic #theron shan x jedi knight #Theron Shan #Jedi Knight/Hero of Tython #otp: adorkable #oc: greyias highwind #theronangstywhumpfest2k17 #IT'S FINALLY DONE #I CAN SLEEP NOW #super schmoopy and schmaltzy #warning: you might get a cavity #sorrynotsorry #hopefully this ending works and wraps things up satisfactorily #i was trying to keep things fairly canon so...#swtor #greyfic

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survivorgalaxysedge · 4 years ago

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Episode 6 | Your Social Game Is On 0! - MJ

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WHOOPS I KINDA DID THAT, SORRY KEEGAN, YOU DID ABSOLUTELY NOTHING WRONG I JUST NEED EVERYONE ON THIS TEAM TO BE BFFS WITH ME

also just realized that at final 13 i know well over half of the people in the game..... love that for me!! -close with ali, jonathan, and zoe over here both separately & together -mj obvs -cindi and jay are known quantities -jules is great too -so only ones i don’t know.... silver, zach, asya, nathan & jessie i know i can work with at least half of the ones i know, probably more - only real question mark is cindi cuz she was a little sus originally, and jay i hope is still good but i think he and keegan were close so might have to work on explaining that one. but overall, i feel pretty well set for merge whenever it gets here, and hopefully the next couple votes can get rid of some of those ones i don’t know. onward and upward! we’ll see!!!

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I don't really do much text confessionals but I just ranted in my host chat so I'm sending it here. ~~This Round~~ this round is gonna be fun, so much fun, and I won't have to do like any gameplay because I think regardless the trian tribe is going to tribal and I wanna see how that plays out, and then if my tribe goes to tribal I'm gonna dip out using my safety without power and let silver kill an og circi since he's gonna pull out that extra vote however, if asya or jules have an advantage / if mj flips that's fine with me too. I'm still debating playing the solar eclipse. I want to cause chaos, and for what? For no reason. *Moments Later* I spun a wheel to determine what I will do this round, and it landed on not playing the solar eclipse and noping out. that's what I'm doing. now you may ask for the strategic value of letting a circi die? Well, if a Circi goes (or two circis go if it's an andro/circi tribal), I'm suddenly 1/2 of my OG tribe left. People may want to pick me up and use me as a number since I will have no allegiance to anyone. This puts me in a lowkey kind of decent position if I lie and say I was gonna be voted out if I didn't safety w/o power. Also playing a safety without power and claiming the magnet would statistically mean I am less likely to have other advantages since other people had searches stockpiled for the swap I'll probably test the waters for a bit after immunity results and then play the magnet to make it look like it wasn't planned and I just got a bad feeling. In other words: I'm turning the crackhead dial-up, it's time for fun! I swear to god if we don't merge after this round I will scream. ~~Planning for the Future~~ oh my god it could be a 10 person merge. because the merge episode is usually episode 8. we're on 6 but that wouldn't make sense to prevent a 5 > 1 person tribe from occurring and 5 votes in a swap seems like a bit much. I feel like at this point I know I probably won't win this game but I'm gonna give them hell while I'm here playing well is boring People on this cast that will probably try to kill me: Cindi, Jay, Nathan, Maybe Jesse? I haven't really spoken much to MJ or Silver, chances are my closest ally is going home this round, Zoe Jonathan and Ari may pick me up if I'm from a minority tribe but dump me very quickly. From my POV the cards are not in my favor, all I have are my advantages so the path of chaos is more beneficial plus I'm sure it's spread I'm pretty good at immunities in merge so they're gonna try to take me out early on like round 1 or 2, So if I want any chance I need to play the following way Since I cannot depend on social connections as much as I normally would 1. Make sure my existing social connections are voted out so that I am not in the group where I don't have the best social connections but I have enough that it is worrisome 2. Play my advantages early in merge if I don't win immunity, cementing myself as a big target 3. Convince people that nobody will take me deep into the game because I have placed myself in the position of a big target 4. Try to get the people that would be 100% against me voted out, while also watching Andro tribe majority. Basically making Andro and Trian fight each other 5. Win immunities near the end and somehow make it deep??? That's my best case scenario at this point in my opinion.

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So like we won immunity . Wow see what happens when we actually try? Isn’t that nice . Idc who goes really I can make new bonds or whatever with people if silver goes but in the ideal scenario he will stay. But tbh I have no power over what happens tonight so I don’t care. Hoping merge happens next

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ok so i have a little cute vote chat for me jules and mj. mj is spilling EVERYTHING abt his OG tribe including how they blindsided my wife pippa... rude. also abt his idol searches. he's a smart cookie and one to watch for but i also like him and need friends so<3

THIS SUCKS SO MUCHHHHHH ALI I AM SO SORRY

Having to remind myself that is entirely okay to be vengeful and even be blinded by revenge in these games. I've become way too soft for these things in the past couple of years. As of right now, tonight's tribal council should be 2-1-1, since Zach is skipping -- 2 votes for Silver (Asya, Jules), 1 vote Jules (Silver), and 1 vote Asya (me). If Silver's 50/50 coin lands on SAFE, the it’ll tie between Aysa and Jules and I think I’ll get auto-eliminated if it’s rocks instead of a 1v1 tiebreaker, and I’m OK with that I think! If it lands on NOT SAFE then Silver is leaving, period! And Silver deserves to leave, and I shouldn't feel nervous about taking this shot, no matter if it backfires or not. It makes me feel icky to think that Nathan, Jessie, and Silver were in cahoots from the very start and I didn't care enough to control my own game because I've become too accustomed to jellyfishing my way through ORGs to avoid being pinpointed as a leader or strategist. I'm putting my foot down tonight. I'm taking this shot and if it works, then it's merely the beginning of the end for half of the remaining cast as far as I'm concerned. If it backfires, then oh well, at least I tried something here. NO REGRETS! Anyway, just had the first alliance call with Aysa and Jules and it was great! Good vibes! We just chit-chatted and discussed strategy and previous dynamics. It will be a shame if we don’t get to push forward together after tonight. I’m also telling Silver right now not to play the 50/50 befcause if it doesn’t land on safe then the vote will be 3-2 if Aysa is lying; and if Aysa is telling the truth then he’s wasting a power that he could have later on. It kinda makes no sense for him to use the 50/50 considering the information he’s being told. I’m fine with pitching this to him because he said he was 100% gonna use it anyway, so me telling him not to will either leave things the same or result in him not using it at all. There’s no losing there. The only way to lose is if it lands on safe. The savage in me is saying, no MJ don’t let yourself get auto-eliminated if things go south, CUT JULES! And I realize that that’s exactly how I should be thinking given the first two lines of this confessional!!! But I wanna be a risk taker. I’m fine with this blowing up because the potential reward is greater than me being auto-eliminated. + Jack was rocked out last season so it would be cute to match that if it comes down to it! I hope it doesn’t, but it’s fine either way. I feel like this game owes me. Silver's 50/50 will not land on safe.

ALSO on this alliance call, I was informed that the adventure reset?!?!?!?! AND I HAVEN'T DONE THEM IN A WEEK???? LMFAOOOOO anyway.

AHHHH why did I volunteer to go first in the challenge ugh I remembered the wrong shit lol. But this tribal I dont think I have to use my 50/50 since asya doesn't wanna go to rock so she'll vote Jules with us. So yeah I think I'll be ok. Asya told me Jules is voting MJ. I'm just hoping this isnt gonna be a big blindside towards me but yeah wish me luck

okay, here's the plan. silver has the glowing orb 50/50 coin thing. i expect him to play it. silver's voting me. im voting silver and so is asya. mj is king of the key here. if mj votes silver and the orb makes him safe, then im gone. if mj votes asya (hang on, ive just had a realization and just had to sit in silence for a while whilst i process it.) okay. if mj votes asya and the coin makes silver safe, it'll be 2-1-1, with a tie between me and asya. which im just now realizing could send it to rocks where mj would be the one leaving............. boy howdy, sure wish i knew how to count. okay, yeah. we'll just hope that the coin lands on NOT SAFE -or- he doesnt play it at all. mj and asya are telling him that they're voting me out, so maybe he'll feel comfy enough not to use it. i dont WANT asya to be voted out, but it's better than me or mj being the vote. if mj gets rocked out by default because i didnt realize how to count....... oops!!! but silver has a bunch of advantages, so him getting voted out would flush those out. asya has an immunity shard and id like to think that she'd will it to me if she gets voted out, but eye dee kay!

AHHH sorry this is coming so late but I've had a busy busy few days, and luckily I've avoided tribal during this time lol So before I was feeling a bit shaky on this tribe, I felt like everyone was more connected to each other than to me. But as it turns out, that's completely untrue and I feel very at the center of this tribe. Nathan and I have had multiple long talks recently where we've decided that we want to stick together deep into this game, and he's given me some info about how he and Silver gave up their immunity shards to Jessie, so she has an idol now. Cindi and I have a connection from our original tribe too and I've been keeping up on that relationship too. I gave her a clue I found during an expedition but nothing really came of it since it's, as far as I can tell, impossible to decipher. If we did end up going to tribal, I would have made a push to take out Jessie TBH, even though she has the idol. I feel like even if Nathan wasn't for it, they'd go for Cindi and not me. But luckily that doesn't matter because we're immune and likely heading for a merge in the next 30 minutes. And if not a merge, than another swap bc I think y'all hosts anticipated that one tribe could have lost all of the last 3 immunities and I don't think you want a 2 person tribe at the f11. But yeah I feel really good about my place in the game, I want Nathan to be my shield for the time being bc he's so vocal and strategic that he will always be a target ahead of me.

I have put so much work in to stay

I BETTER STAY

All this fighting for nothing smh <3 it is not looking good

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#toinfinityandsurvive

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countryole · 7 years ago

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Light Ahead

The Gifted fanfic! A John and Lorna one-shot. One of a million scenarios about how they began running refugees to Mexico with Marcos. Read it here or at fanfic.net! I apologize for any mistakes, it’s late and I am lazy. (I haven’t written anything in literally almost a year wtf.)

"Lorna, look. Lights."

Lorna shifted from her half-asleep position against the passenger seat window. She turned her head, blinking out into the midnight shadow, ignoring the pain in her neck from the weird angle. The gloom was illuminated by their run down car's bleary headlights. In the drivers seat John sat stone faced, the only hint of worry was the way his jaw seemed to tighten with every mile that spun under the tires. They topped the rise of one last foothill of what felt like hundreds, the old junker car groaning at the effort, and began their final descent into the valley.

It was the edge of one world and another; in the distance the city lights of El Paso began to dance in the darkness.

"You're still sure about this?" John glanced at her, his ex-marine, grown-out, messy buzz cut making his face seem harder than it normally was. Or maybe it was his eyes, the edgy, uncertain stare that he leveled her with for a split second before turning back to the road where the highway lines were nothing but blurs, leading them to their destination.

Or doom. Lorna pushed the heavy thought from her mind. Now was no time for second thoughts. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, grounded herself, reminding the voices in her head to stay centered in the moment she existed in.

"You were standing there and heard every word Sonia said, just like me," she reminded him, green eyes opening to level him with a calm stare, "if we don't get Ella out of the states, not only is she as good as dead, but we will be too when Sentinel Services sends out their full forces to find her."

"It's just…"

"Just what?"

John frowned in the dark.

"You know I don't like fighting enemies I can't see. It's not what I would have done before."

That word, before. Lorna could feel the involuntary swell of sympathy in her chest for the man sitting next to her. A marine unfairly discharged for dishonorable conduct, an apache Indian disowned by his family, a mutant fighting for a cause that so little supported or believed in. Before was a hopeless word of simpler times they would never get back. There was only the now, and hopefully, the after.

"This is how we fight back," Lorna reached across the center console, grabbing John's arm with gentle fingers, fingers that were usually used to create damage and chaos, not sooth, "Sure, the frontline is different, and we don't wear uniforms, but every life we save makes a difference. One by one, every mutant we keep out of Sentinel Services hands, every link we break in their chains, is one step closing to making this world better for all of us. You have to believe in that. I know you do."

"I believe in you," John grinned, a flash of boyish kindness amidst the grave persona of the soldier he portrayed, before his brow furrowed again, "I just want us all to make it home, and this… well, it's not our usual area of expertise."

Home was thousands of miles away in Atlanta, back at headquarters were the other refugees and militia would wait for their safe return. The mutant underground was all John and Lorna had, the only family they had, and now they were risking all of it to save the life of one of their own. They had to try, because if they didn't, the rest of the lives that depended on the mutant underground would also be at stake.

"I believe in you too, and we will make it home." It wasn't a question, but a statement of fact. John might have had foresight, but she was speaking their future into existence. Lorna would allow nothing else.

"Ella could have made it a little easier," John muttered, "roasting an entire fleet of patrol cars and sentinel agents wasn't the best idea, not that I blame her."

No mutant would blame her, not when Sentinel Services murdered her husband and teenage daughter in front of her, in cold blood. Their senseless deaths were not the first, and they wouldn't be the last, but Ella's violent retaliation and her well known reputation for harboring mutant refugees had earned her a death sentence of her own. Human blood on mutant hands was the highest crime; she'd melted their cars to liquid ore and their men to ash in the blink of an eye. Mexico would be the only safe place for her now, where she could disappear, and become a ghost.

"And this Eclipse guy?" John glanced at her again, pulling her from her thoughts, "I know you trust Ella, but he's a stranger Lorna, and I don't like it."

"Trust is all we have, John," Lorna looked back out her window, the inside of the car suddenly felt very small, "We have to try."

John was ever the solider, looking out for everyone but himself. He was fiercely protective of his friends, and even more so of Lorna. She was the only sister he'd every really had, and though his generosity knew no bounds in the mutant underground, the loses they had suffered in the past made him wary of outsiders and the unknown.

The truth was Lorna didn't know if Marcos Diaz could be trusted or not. He was an old friend of Ella's family, but with hands deep in in the cartel drug trade along the border. Lorna couldn't imagine how a man who's life revolved around blood money and murder could have any sort of interest in helping a wanted mutant fugitive when the price on her head would be more than he'd make in a lifetime. That is, until Ella had explained, he was one of them. One of us.

Her brief conversation with this man, on the shoddy static-filled satellite phone back at HQ, was as clear in her mind as if it had just happened. John pulled the car off onto the shoulder, into what little cover the rugged Texas terrain had to offer, for one last stop before they made the rest of their way to the city where he would be waiting for them. She pushed open the passenger side door and it squealed in protest, and she made her way to the trunk that John was already opening.

Lorna replayed Marcos's voice in her head, the question she had asked, and his answer.

"Why are you doing this?"

John reached down into the trunk, and gently lifted a sleeping child, a four-year old boy, from the arms of his mother and onto his shoulder. Ella climbed out behind him, exhausted and shaken. Lorna helped the woman to her feet, handed her the bottle of water she'd been holding. The El Paso skyline glittered in the distance.

"He's just a little boy, and they need help, why wouldn't I?"

Somehow Lorna knew that because of Marcos, this suicide mission wouldn't be in vain. Just as she could feel the threads of the magnetic field against her fingertips, she felt in her heart that they had made the right choice. She knew. They couldn't save Ella's husband or daughter, but they could give her and her son a second chance, because of him. People like Marcos were a reminder that there was still good in this world. They were embers of a fire that couldn't be put out, a bright light in a dark place.

Little did she know…

#The Gifted #fanfic #fanfic: mine #fanfic: the gifted #Lorna Dane #John Proudstar #Marcos Diaz #I need sleep #writing

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kingtoyourwarlock · 7 years ago

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OMfGGGG after 10.000 years on this site I was tagged again, by @dollopheadsandclotpoles :) Thanks!!

Rules! 1. Post these rules 2. Answer the questions given by the tagger 3. Write 11 questions of your own 4. Tag 11 people!

What are you currently reading? I’m reading Eclipse, like the trash I am.

What is something you’re excited about that is going to happen in the near future? Hopefully I’ll be graduating from my Bachelor course soon... If I try really hard and not manage to break down.

If you could get any writer in the world to write something, who would it be and what would you have them write? I would probably ask Oscar Wilde to write this beautiful, queer story with different types of queer people and you don’t know if it is happening in this world or some fantastical realm <3

If you write fic, what is the ship or the fandom you’ve written for most? Merthur :) That’s the only ship I’ve written for. However, if the made up scenarios in my head count, there are a lot more fandoms and it’s usually me paired up with my favourite character.

What toppings do you put on your pizza? AALLL THE CHEESE and salami/pepperoni

Did you ever go through a Twilight phase? As I am trash and I re-read the entire Twilight saga in one week, two weeks ago, after not having read it in almost 10 years, my answer would have to be yes... (Honestly though I was such a huge fan from ages 13 to 15/16 and it’s how I met my friend group at secondary school so I’m not even mad about it anymore).

If you could marry a fictional character, which one would it be? Merlin, or Neville Longbottom, or Edward Cullen because I’m trash (also book Edward really isn’t so bad), or Jane Eyre or Lizzie Bennet (gotta have some girls on the list).

What is a book you loved as a child that not many people know about? We have a Dutch book at home with fairytales. They’re not really conventional fairytales, but I really liked them and the illustrations in that book are beautiful.

Name a celebrity you’ve met in real life Colin Morgan <3 I saw him in the Tempest, Mojo, The Living and the Dead screening and in Gloria. I also saw Rupert Grint in Mojo of course (I almost cried when he got on stage cause jesus christ that’s my childhood...).

If you wrote your own TV show, who would you like to cast in it? Myself and Colin Morgan, we’d be lovers (of course) and then somehow it would also become an off-screen thing because of my alure :)

What song has been stuck in your head a lot recently? Stupid Bitch, from the show Crazy Ex-Girlfriend. It’s freaking brilliant. xD The line: “You’re a poopy little slut who doesn’t think and deceives the people she loves”, is everything to me.

My questions: 1.Do you have any tattoos and if yes, what are they of. If no, do you want any? 2.What does your favourite outfit look like? 3.What would be your dream job in an ideal world? 4.What was your first fandom and how did you get into it? 5.What is your favourite character thrope? 6.Do you have any pets? If yes, tell me about them. If no, do you want any? 7.Who was/ is the best teacher you’ve ever had? 8.Are you still friends with the people from secondary school? 9.Where do you want to be five years from now? 10.Put your playlist on shuffle, the first song is your funeral song. What is it? 11. What is the last book you read? What is it about?

I tag: @thatonceandfutureprat @samuel-vimes @loyalunicorn @in2fiction @dollopheadsandclotpoles @gaychair @spacekidjosh (That’s not 11 people, but anywayyy :) ) Obviously you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to :)

#tag game #dollopheadsandclotpoles #samuel-vimes #thatonceandfutureprat #loyalunicorn #in2fiction #gaychair #spacekidjosh #I hope I'll get some back again cause I love doing these :)

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whatevarandomlygoes · 7 years ago

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I can't believe I'm doing something like this. But in the end it had to be only because of @looselucy and one of her beautifully crafted and marvelously written stories.

Funnily enough, TFA was the first one I started to read from you, and it's gonna be the fifth one -of many more to come, hopefully- that I read completely and love.

And I was so undecided and dumb, and always procrastinated to get in to read it, until luckily I found a reblog of one of your previews for the latest chapter at the time, I guess it was the 17 or 18, and was then and there when I decided I might be missing something great. I wasn't wrong. It got me from the get go and I binged those chapters, then I learned you had another couple of fics completed, two of them I also binge read them and BB, well, we're going little by little.

The thing is, even when I've loved each and every single thing you write, TFA it's so far in my humble opinion, the best idea and plot you have came with, and even when having such a last chapter made me so happy and gave me that sense of true closure, knowing that there's only the epilogue left, makes me I don't know if sad or more like with some kind of emptiness for not having more of those lovely characters that you created, every week or so. I'm so gonna miss them.

Now, I guess I'll give it a go with the last chapter, which I loved because like I said, it gave me a sense of closure.

For starters, Ren and Beatrice; we agreed earlier on not liking Ren's mom for how she trated her and all that, even when I did kinda understand her reasoning on her behaviour with her daughter, after all she was just projecting herself and it was wrong, but it happens. So I liked to see that she's trying, more than just kinda get along better with Ren, she's trying to be better herself. After all, everything has to start from within ourselves, right? Also, I liked how much Ren understands how difficult it has to be for Beatrice to try those changes, and how she doesn't try to imposse herself to her mom. She's trying to have a relationship with her, but giving her the option, too. With her doubts, and fears that she could say no, but still does it, and that says a lot of Ren and her growing.

Then was the celebratory night at Vocatus -I effin wish there was a bar like that with such kind of beautiful specimens serving drinks and looks-, and I loved that the gang was there, Mo always being his special self, and having his big revelation. And so true, we should celebrate every accomplishment in our lives, even the little ones. Like really, he should be a therapist, he'd be a great one. I just love that he happens to be Ren's best friend, she deserves someone like him in her life. Also, pretty glad that he's getting more into the team. And by the way, poor Niall and his unrequited crush/like or whatever that is with Molly. I want to think that for sure she wasn't aware of that at all, right? So, in that case, I'm gonna imagine that Niall gets over her and finds the right good girl he deserves, right? Right. Then, whatever happened with Zayn and Melissa? Hope everything worked out for them. And special mention to my beloved Louis, for being him, such a special, lovely, gorgeous guy oh, yeah, and friend, and somehow helping Harry to keep tabs on Ren.

Now to the better parts. I'd like to say that I can't believe that she remembered the date, the night it started all, but I can; because after all it was somehow the trigger of it all in their story, and yeah. And obvioulsy he had to be there too.

And then again I get a bit overwhelmed and my thoughts get all jumbled up.

Alright, so when Ren just blurted out that she loved him, was like the best fuckin thing she did without thinking, and it was just so imperfectly perfect everything she said. Our baby totally poured her heart and soul infront of him.

But then that gorgeous little bastard almost kills everyone with the suspense. And of course poor Ren was gonna feel like she had no chance at all. He's such a dramatic hoe, but I love him. And loved him more when he told her he wouldn't let her go again, and her full name? C'mon! Kill me now, won't you? Somehow, at some point, I thought he was about to say "you jump, I jump" since almost everything seemed so along those lines, and Ren loving Titanic and all that.

That was all so perfect, and then this happened,

"I joined him in that bubble he had created, where the outside world didn’t exist, where neither of us could feel the cold or the wind of be in fear of the darkness. We were there, together, locked within a golden light that couldn’t be fragmented."

And hi, I have no words when you create such exquisite descriptions.

Then Moggy made her apparence and at this point I was a total idiotic moron happily smiling to myself, glad of being alone, because I couldn't stop smiling. I mean, not only Moggy that we all love, of course, but the fact that she was again at his flat and noticing the little yet so meaningull changes, like the bursts of blue in the art. It had to be a big step for him, because of what that color used to mean, and instead of keeping it somehow blocked of his life he did the opposite. He makes me so proud of him.

Aaand a good, needed sexy time is always welcome. But, Harry telling her that she doesn't need to hide anything from him, kinda melted me.

And then again, I go speechless and please,

"I felt incredible because he made me feel incredible. Not just then with what he was doing, but always. I had never known a force like it, where his love elevated me into this existence that felt so healthy, and thriving. Of course my natural instinct was to walk away from something as powerful as that. It was completely in my nature to reject something so pure. I never wanted to be that way again."

But then,

"I felt as though I was stepping into summer, bursts of green and gold growing beneath my feet with each step I took into the season. We had both been missing within winter, cold and empty and withholding new beginnings; but being back with Harry, having him love me so intensely, so physically, aided me in my escape of a valley lacking life and wilting before my eyes. Finally, I could feel that the air was gentle. Finally, I could feel that the iron sky was altering into a soft blue. Finally, I could feel the blossoming branches stretch towards the sky and burst with colours that would titter in the wind. Finally, we were summer."

Or when with just little phrases in a dialogue, let us floored. I mean,

“You’re my one and only, sunflower.”

Thank you, Harry, let me bury myself, since I was already dead and almost in a casket.

"We were so achingly happy with one another, and we could clearly see the bright future that we were building together, where the once grey skies were eclipsed by a golden sunrise instead. The moon was shooting silver arrows directly onto us through his window, but I couldn’t see anything other than the yellow hue we created between us. His body was the earth, and I was laying upon a beautiful bed of flowers."

And to end it, the cherry on top,

“A view has never been so beautiful.”

I mean, how do you do that? That, those words, THAT is art. And coming for someone who used to hate descriptions, and/or metaphores within descriptions, or dialogues, I'm guessing I just had to find the right ones, the well written, the real meaningful ones, and with your stories it's what I always find.

So I could go line by line finding something to like and to love, but maybe it'd be a little too much, so all in all, it was just the perfect ending, just closing a perfect circle that oh how I wish it was a never ending one, because I love these characters that feel so real, so bright and so alive that just make you want to keep them close to you.

I guess, no, I know, this, all of this, is what you expect of a good story, no a good fic, more like a great book, a good novel, the ones that get you from the beginning and keep you all the way till the end, with the thrill and then that bittersweet feeling of getting to know a part of someones -even if ficticious- lives, wanting more but at the same time being satisfied with the last words of that last chapter.

Seriously, you've got such a way with words, Lucy, that for all that I care, you could write about the periodic table, and I'd read it as the most fantastic engaging story ever. And I kinda wish I could say that I'm jealous of your talent and gift as a writer, but actually I feel proud and excited about being your reader, an spectator of a part of your imagination.

So thank you so very much for giving us Ren and Harry, and everyone else in their beautiful world. You let me thinking that from now on, instead of wanting a love like Romeo and Juliet, we all be wanting one like Ren and her Harry... it'll last more and nobody dies there! lol!

So yeah, that's about it, I think, for now, I'll be waiting for the epilogue, and then for the hard cover or at least paperback, and that Netflix series that it should happen.

Thank you, thank you, thank you for letting us fall in love with the words and worlds from your beautiful mind!

So much love to you always.

#tfa #for lucy #a review of sorts

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blueyedcas · 8 years ago

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Wings Like Midnight (Ch. 8)

Can also be read here in AO3

Chapter 1 -> Previous Chapter -> Next Chapter

Fandom: Supernatural

Relationships: Gabriel & Other archangels and angels

Warnings: None

Summary:

An angel’s wings are a beautiful and unique thing, their colour supposedly signifying their owners personality and temperament. But when an fledgling is branded an ‘abomination’ the moment he’s created, will Gabriel find it in himself to help the little one? And is it possible that Heaven’s new angel could help him back?

(I promise the story’s better and more complex than the summary)

Hello guys! This is a little shorter than previous chapter so I've posted it sooner :) I really hope you enjoy <3 Sophie xx p.s. again, massive thanks to my beta, Dayna <3

For a few moments, all the sounds that had previously overwhelmed Gabriel fell silent, as if looking into Anna’s face somehow made everything else disappear. The quiet brought him a sense of calm; peace; acceptance. It was as if he were a quiet observer, mildly curious as he watched the emotions dance across the stormy skies of Anna’s eyes.

Curiosity. Confusion. Shock. Anger.

Out the corner of his eye, Gabriel caught the movement of the door swinging shut, eclipsing the rays of light emerging from the nest.

Panic cut through his surrealness like a blade. Like Michael’s blade that had nearly come down, ending the life of a being just created, a being clutched to his chest with large blue eyes and tears streaming from them. This door was just as dangerous, cutting off their last hope and the fledgling’s future in one quick, devastating motion. Was he really going to allow this to happen?

As if a switch had been flicked, all the sounds returned with an alarming, ferocious force, overwhelming the archangel. Instinctively, he closed his eyes, as if shutting off his vision would stop the assault on his senses.

The scraping noise as the door grated along the floor. The fledgling’s wails. The hum of Heaven, consistent and oblivious. A loud bang echoed around him, vibrating through his skull.

The door. It had closed. A crushing sense of failure weighed on Gabriel’s shoulders, diffusing through his body. How was he supposed to raise the fledgling now?

Perhaps he could break the door down?

No. Stupid. As if an archangel battering down her door would help the situation.

Horror bloomed in the pit of his stomach as he realised he had just considered breaking a siblings door down, a sibling with a young fledgling, no less.

Michael was right, archangels were not built for this. They were built to fight, not protect. It was as if a pressure was pushing inwards, squeezing him of any hope, leaving him flat and empty.

Peculiarly, the pressure weighing his body down was felt more astutely in his foot. He cracked open an eye and was met with a sliver of light emerging from the nest. Looking down, he realised his foot lay in between the door and the wall, preventing it from closing.

A wave of relief coursed through his mind for a split second, cooling and soothing him, as if, somehow, his troubles were over.

Stupid. You still need to convince her to let you in, you useless pile of feathers.

“Leave,” Anna hissed, no hint of the softness she’d shown earlier. Only an impassioned grey eye and a few strands of red hair could be seen through the slender gap in the door.

“No can do,” Gabriel tried at a smirk but it fell flat, looking more like a grimace, “I need your help.”

“I said leave,”

“Sister, please-”

“Take that abomination away from my nest,” came her scathing reply. Gabriel felt her words like a punch to the abdomen, knocking him of air, leaving his breath uneven and stuttering.

He thought back to the Anna he knew before. The fledgling with innocence shining in her eyes and a small smile painted on her lips. The young angel who fought for the right to raise a fledgling. The angel he saw just a few minutes before, gently reprimanding, protective and kind. Gabriel refused to believe she could change so much, that anyone could change the goodness so deeply imbedded in their grace.

“Fine,” he said, raising the hand that wasn’t gripped around the fledgling, “I’ll go, and you can shut the door if you want.”

He paused, absorbing the emotions flickering across Anna’s troubled face.

“But don’t you dare call him an abomination. The only crime he’s guilty of is living and if helping him do that makes me an abomination too then I take the title gladly,” he said, passion lighting up his eyes into sparkling golden flames.

“The Archangel Michael said it was a danger to us,” Anna replied, her voice hard.

“Michael talks out of his ass-”

“-He is the most powerful being in Heaven-”

“-Only because everyone follows him blindly!”

“God chose him!”

“Oh, and he’s told you that himself, has he?”

“It is known,” she spat. Gabriel was taken aback by her venom, unused to being spoken to in such a manner, before realising it wasn’t anger that was driving her; it was fear. “I will not endanger my fledgling by bringing such a dangerous creature into my nest.”

Gabriel forced himself to relax, lowering the tone of his voice until it was calm and understanding.

“Look at him, truly look at him, and tell me he’s a danger.”

Anna glared at him for a few moments before her gaze flickered downwards compulsively. It was the first time she had looked at the fledgling, properly, since they’d arrived. The fledgling, whose cries had been growing steadily quieter, was now completely silent, gazing back into Anna’s fierce eyes with a sharp intensity of his own. Blue met grey and the angel was transfixed, lost in the azurite oceans of the little one’s orbs.

“He needs someone to look after him but..” Gabriel sighed, looking downwards, “But I can’t do it alone.”

“Why not?” Anna questioned, finally looking up. Her gaze seemed softer, less harsh, as if the fear was beginning to disappear like ice thawing in the warm rays of the sun.

Gabriel huffed a humourless laugh.

“I know more about acting like a fool than raising a fledgling.”

Anna continued to look at him, unblinking, and his lopsided grin faltered.

“I am trying, I really am,” he said, voice cracking slightly as he tried to reign in the desperate tone corrupting his voice, “but Archangels weren’t meant for this. I haven’t been prepared or taught or trained, I’m completely in the dark… which is where you come in, pink.”

The archangel examined Anna’s unwavering gaze and realised she didn't seem disgusted or fearful. Hope spurred him on, blossoming inside him like a flower, vibrant and full of life.

“You don’t have to become Guardian for two, I wouldn’t make you do that. I just need to know what to do. Are they supposed to sleep? When do they start flying? How powerful are they? Is him pulling my feathers out a sign of affection or does he want to kill me?”

At that, Anna smiled and something seemed to break within her. Gabriel smiled too and he felt an easiness begin to form; a bond.

“You don't have to do anything you don’t want to do. If you think it will endanger you or your fledgling then I respect that but please,” he implored, “We - I - need you.”

With that, he removed his foot from the door and held his breath, spikes of apprehension and doubt shooting through his body.

Please, dad, don't let me have misjudged this.

He pulled the little one closer to his chest and tilted his head forward, burying his nose into the messy nest topping the fledgling’s head. Black strands of hair tickled his face comfortingly, and he felt a strange warmth blooming in his chest. Before he could dissect these new emotions fizzling inside his skull, Anna opened her mouth and panic replaced any other thoughts immediately.

“Fine,” she said simply, widening the door to reveal her pale pink wings, protruding from her back in arches, appearing to glow slightly as light shone through the feathers around her wing’s edges. Gabriel closed his eyes and lifted his head to the sky, releasing the breath he had unknowingly held.

Thank you.

“You better get inside before someone sees you,” she warned, but there was a hint of a smile on her lips. With a jolt, Gabriel realised they were still out in the open; vulnerable; exposed.

With a thankful smile and gratitude sparkling in his eyes, he stepped through the door and into the nest. As they passed Anna in the doorway, a tiny hand stretched out towards her, palm clutching at air. She flinched back, suspicion clouding her grey eyes as she examined the fledgling's stodgy fingers yearning to touch. She looked between the hand and Gabriel, silently asking for an answer, worry creasing her features.

The archangel smiled softly in reply before shuffling the little one closer to her, raising an eyebrow in a silent offer. Hesitantly, she opened her arms and Gabriel passed him along. The fledgling giggled happily, clutching strands of red hair in his little fists and resting his heavy head in the crook of her neck. Gabriel kept a careful hand out, just in case Anna froze in fear, but he needn’t do anything. She handled the fledgling as naturally as the loving adoration that shone from her face. Unconsciously, she ran her thumb down the shiny, black surface of his feathers, much to the archangel’s joy.

With Anna preoccupied, Gabriel closed the door behind them, cocooning him in a sensation of safety and security, and all was well.

Thank you so much for reading, I really really hope you enjoyed it! Please leave a like or an ask telling me if you did or did not like it, and how I can improve. Also, just so you guys know, I've planned out the first half of this story in detail and I cannot wait to show you guys, hopefully it's going to be awesome :D So yeah, I hope you all have a wonderful day/night and I'll see you next time :) Sophie xx

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ryanmeft · 8 years ago

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Movies Coming Up in 2017 for People who go to the movies more than twice a year

Well before 2016 ended, the hype train was already rolling for 2017 CGi-fests like Dunkirk, The Amazing Spider-Man and Pirates of the Caribbean: The Fifth One. I want to see all those, too, but if history prevails they won’t be the ones that really stick in my craw as the year comes to a close. These might not, either, of course, but for those of us who need more in our movie diets than spectacle, I plucked a few promising films that aren’t about superheroes or battles. Note I have relatively little info to draw on for anything beyond spring, not being any kind of insider, so I no doubt missed a ton of promising ones. Maybe I’ll do a second list later.

Song to Song The story of this Terrence Malick movie is about rock 'n' roll...wait a second. It's a Malick thing? Who cares what the story is? Whatever bizarre and lovely fever dream he comes up with isn't gonna fit in a plot description. Formerly called Weightless, it features, like all of the suddenly prolific director's recent efforts, an all-star cast of names like Ryan Gosling, Michael Fassbender, Natalie Portman and Chris Combs as "Roadie (Uncredited)". There's some bands you might know, too. It releases where you live March 17th, as long as you live in New York or L.A. (at least that's usually how this goes).

Wilson Not every comic adaptation involves hitting people, as your friend who hates (pick one: Marvel/DC) will be only too happy to remind you every single damn time you just want to go get some damned popcorn and a damned soda and simply enjoy a few hours of your shuffling, grey, meaningless existence. For the more esoteric comic lover, there's this story of an out-but-not-down loser who discovers he has a teenage daughter. Daniel Clowes also wrote Ghost World, which was made into a perfect movie. Hopefully this one is stewarded half as well. March 24.

It Comes at Night Stop snickering. Stop snickering! Act your age. Where was I? Oh, yes. This horror thriller starring Joel Edgerton features a creepy poster of a cat walking through a dark yard, and for some reason reminds me of those old Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark books, which were responsible for 57.9% of all my childhood nightmares. The director, Trey Edward Shults, was an intern on three Terrence Malick films. I don't want to jump the gun and say this may be as close as we'll ever get to finding out what would happen if Malick ever made a horror movie, but this is probably as close as we'll ever get to finding out what would happen if Malick ever made a horror movie. I threw the "probably" in there to cover my ass. June 9.

The Beguiled Some of us just really love westerns. We love to dream of an era when interstate travel took three years and you had to literally shit in the woods. It can be hard to come up with new ideas in a genre so defined by tropes, so instead Sofia Coppola decided to remake a Clint Eastwood movie you don't remember. With her behind the camera, though, and the likes of Elle Fanning, Colin Farrell and Nicole Kidman in front of it, we know at the very least the style will be there. Coppola's movies are always sumptuous and divisive, making me wonder what will happen when she meets a genre often resistant to change. It might be another Hell or High Water. It could also be The Missing. We'll find out on June 23.

My Cousin Rachel This movie is a strange semi-autobiographical film in the vein of I'm Still Here, starring Rachel Weisz as a version of herself that...that's not what it's about? Then why is someone named Rachel in it? Oh, okay. This sequel to My Cousin Vinny...not that either? Oh, I see, it's actually an adaptation of a Daphne du Maurier novel. Well, that's still kinda cool, since Rebecca, one of Hitchcock's best, was also from du Maurier. Director Roger Michell helmed the forgotten-but-excellent Changing Lanes, so he's got the thriller chops. July 14.

All I See is You Marc Forster directed Finding Neverland, Monster's Ball and Stranger than Fiction. He also directed Quantum of Solace and World War Z. Clearly, character driven work is more his forte, and his latest film, about a blind woman who re-evaluates her life when her sight suddenly returns, seems to skew toward his strengths. Since humanity has somehow decided that who is on the screen is a pretty good indicator of whether a movie is good or not, and the biggest star in it is Blake Lively, it has an uphill battle at the Box Office, but Forster's shown a knack for taking unusual characters and making them interesting. August 4.

Untitled Detroit Project This is the best name ever and it should be kept for the finished film. Kathryn Bigelow's based-on-a-true-story (or, knowing the movies, sort of based on some things that happened during a true story) film takes place during the 1967 Detroit riot. This surpassed the 1943 Detroit riot in chaos and destruction, and itself was not eclipsed until Black Friday 2010, when the Best Buy in Flagdover, Connecticut ran out of the cheap big screen TVs. While I can't see how this subject could possibly relate to the peaceful, inclusive and prosperous times we currently live in, Bigelow's got skills, and this should still be worth watching. August 4.

Victoria and Abdul This one has Oscar bait written all over it, but the good kind, with chocolate chips and peanuts and...look, I don't do a lot of fishing. I assume good bait has chocolate chips. Anyway, it is about Queen Victoria and a Muslim attendant she became close to, and how they secretly rode across Europe hunting werewolves and vampires. It features several things award shows love, like being a historical drama set in England and having the very English Judi Dench and the also very English director of The Queen and Philomena, English movies Oscar loved. Also it is set in England. It has the added benefit that it will almost certainly be ignored by people who went to see Transformers 17 at midnight. It starts a limited run September 22nd, which means if you live pretty much anyplace you can see it a few weeks after that.

The Snowman I'm just going to quote the plot description from Wikipedia here: "Detective Harry Hole investigates the disappearance of a woman whose pink scarf is found wrapped around an ominous-looking snowman." Now that sounds like B-movie greatness. Harry Hole, he's the Hole Deal. When a plague of ominous snowmen...wait, they're serious? This is a for-real major theatrical release with Michael Fassbender, Rebecca Ferguson and J.K. Simmons? But that set-up is so good! You could have had snowmen EATING people! It woulda been like those old Calvin and Hobbes strips brought to life! Apparently they are still filming, so it isn't too late. Sure, Tomas Alfredson also directed horror darling Let The Right One In, so it'll probably be worth seeing, but...killer snowmen! We'll find out if they're willing to make the movie we really want to see on October 13th.

mother! For some reason the title of this Darren Aronofsky film isn't capitalized and has a shout on the end of it. Given the title and Aronofsky's body of work, this is almost certainly a heartwarming film about how a family, once torn apart by tragedy, comes to reconcile with their mother, who left them when they were all 3 1/2 to try and do something noble. Misunderstandings and hankies will flow freely, there will be a heartwarming ending, and absolutely nothing about it will be psychologically unsettling. It stars major talents like Javier Bardem, Michelle Pfeiffer and Ed Harris, as well as someone named Jennifer Lawrence, who I'm told has the potential to be a big deal sometime in the future. October 13th.

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bloginstantmooncollector-blog · 6 years ago

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