to manipulate

This world is filthy, and I am here to cleanse it. #emetephobia

[shsluckarchive]

　A gentle sigh grabs  Komaeda’s attention - as if Hinata didn’t have most of it already. It’s a familiar, disappointed sigh; Komaeda can’t help but feel disappointed himself, in himself. That feeling is familiar as well.

　Their eyes meet and a sharp chill runs down Komaeda’s spine. Unusual though it is, it’s overwhelmed by a sudden feeling of intense disgust. “Of course,” he mutters, half to himself. “I didn’t have a reason to bother you, really. I was only passing by and I noticed your door was open. Mm, but I should have known better than to force my company on you - especially in the privacy of your own room!”

[tractatio]

     Hinata looks at him, his eyes holding nothing but utter mockery with the others presence. He could feel the oncoming feelings of a headache, already his brain pulsing with a familiar tingle of pain. 

     The brunette listened to Komaeda speak, rolling his eyes as he rambled on about bothering him. Honestly, he did not care. There were more important things to him than Komaedas insecurity about talking to him. He pushed himself back, away from his desk and stood up. "Oh please, you're the least disgusting of everyone else here, you know that. You make me the least sick, you should be happy about that." he explained to the boy. 

     "If you're going to talk to me, please shut the door."

[shsluckarchive]

　What seems off…? That’s a good question. It isn’t something Komaeda can name with ease, however clear to him it seems. It isn’t as if Hinata seems ill or unwell, and his tone is only slight different than he might expect… so what it is? Is he simply being oversensitive? Or is he overreacting? He’s sure such a thing wouldn’t be unheard of for him.

　A faint hint of a smile causes the corners of his mouth to wrinkle as he takes his eyes away from the floor and looks back at his companion. “I must be imagining things,” he says simply. “I thought… well, what I thought isn’t important.”

[tractatio]

     Hinata blinked and looked down at the small notebook he had previously closed, almost ready to begin ignoring Komaeda and go back to writing once more. He sighed and moved his hand to push his hair back, breathing in a sigh of air. 

     "So you're imagining things and you bothered me in the middle of my work.. for what?" a slightly disgusted frown is on his face, looking Komaeda straight in the eye now. 

[utsuroh]

…. So. What have you been up to?

[tractatio]

Writing. Lots and lots of writing. I've had to occupy my free time with something. You?

[utsuroh]

And you’re reserve course, so there we go, introduction over. It’s cool to meet you too.

[tractatio]

Cool.. sure let's say that. 

[shsluckarchive]

　"Ah, no, of course not."

　He should have expected to be snapped at. It wasn’t his business and Hinata was right—it really didn’t matter. He was curious, that’s all, and couldn’t help but ask. It’s a bad habit of his to blurt out what on his mind at times. He’ll have to work on that if he wants to continue conversing with others normally.

　As he thinks that, he does it again. “Is something the matter, Hinata-kun?” He asks, as if it’s something he’d ever be allowed to know. “I don’t mean to pry, but something seems… off.”

[tractatio]

     His rooms state of being really had no importance to their conversation, even if it was the area they were taking conversation to. Hinata rolled his eyes as he waited for Komaeda to continue speaking. It was his turn after all, and who would he be to interrupt him had he decided to speak up at the same time as he? 

     "Off? What seems off to you?" he asked, genuinely confused about that. Had something come off as wrong to the other, and if so, could he fix that? Not that he would fix it, but hey he could at least tolerate this guy so he could try to be nice. 

[utsuroh]

Oh - sorry, I thought. Hi. My name is Ikusaba Mukuro. I’m the super blah blah you get the gist soldier.

[tractatio]

Hinata Hajime. It's a pleasure to meet you, I guess.

[utsuroh]

Most people don’t, but, uh. Are you okay?

[tractatio]

I feel pretty okay. 

[utsuroh]

+ tractatio

[utsuroh]

Will you be offended if I randomly drop mentions of my sister’s blog (thejunkoenoshima) into this greeting post? I just really want to get her attention.

[tractatio]

If I remembered correctly, I don't really care about what you say.

[shsluckarchive]

Hinata has never been known to be a terribly organized person. In comparison to other high school students, he is nothing but average in that respect as well. Perhaps that’s why it surprises Komaeda to see his room in a state of disarray. This isn’t the first time he’s been here, but it’s the first he’s seen it like this.

His eyes move from the scene to Hinata himself. There’s something odd about him, or perhaps the way he holds himself. His voice is strange, too, though it isn’t necessarily awful.

"I was passing by, and I thought…" he trails off, confused. "What happened here?"

[tractatio]

     He sighs, his breathing uneven already. It took a lot of self control to keep himself calm around people, he wasn't normally one to converse with others. But he supposed he would have to get better at that, and he would. Soon enough. Hinata swipes a few loose strands of hair behind his ear, and he closed the notebook- a journal, that he had been writing in.

     "I haven't had time to clean yet, does it matter?" his voice is off, still trying to keep the light and happy tone to his vocal chords. It was hard, extremely hard when his enemy was standing right in front of him.

[despairforevermore]

8 have found despair

tractatio

"You’ve got to be fuckin’ kidding me."

[tractatio]

Is there something you need to ask me, or are you talking simply because you like the sound of your voice?

[tractatio]

[ Honey coloured eyes traveled from the door to the newcomer, the new human being had stood completely still in the new room. He was probably taken aback by the complete disarray of his room, papers strewn about the floor. Clothes had been knocked to the floor, his dressers drawers opened slightly. He brushed back his bangs, the scar that served a gruesome reminder slightly visible as the brown locks were pushed to the sides of his forehead. He leaned his head on his right hand, resting his elbow on the desk of his bedroom.

The newcomer was tall, had pale hair and a look of complete surprise. He couldn't help but smirk at his reaction. The presence of this guy was the least disgusting from everyone else, he made him the least sick to his stomach. ]

Hey, Komaeda. What brings you here?

[ His voice is sickly sweet, practically dripping in honey. ]

[poezekop]

Hippocampal neuron receiving excitatory contacts 

(63x), by Dr. Kieran Boyle

[im-not-reall-deactivated2016070]

[catalinalagrande-blog]

[villkanin]

Intolerance… is a thing that causes war, pogroms, crucifixions, lynchings, and makes people cruel to little children and to each other. It is responsible for most of the viciousness, violence, terror and heart and soul breaking of the world.

Betty Smith, A Tree Grows in Brooklyn (via villkanin)

[tractatio]

hi there everybody! if you wanna rp with me you kinda gotta... make a starter for me lmao im sorry that probably sounds so needy but i have no motivation or creativity to wRITE ONE FOR YOU ALL cries im sorry