kosy
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As a teenager, Ruby collected bullet casings like prayer beads.
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The first thing Kim did after returning to his dorm was take a long shower. It took five full minutes for sensation to return to the tips of his ears even under the hottest water he could bear without wincing; the rain still hammering down outside is far colder than it has any right to be in Central California’s early April. By the time he’d made it back to the relative shelter of campus, which at least has broad awnings to walk beneath, he was shivering uncontrollably. Even the advertised water-resistant fabric of his gym bag had soaked through, and his clothes—both the ones on his body and the ones in the backpack—were drenched, gone heavy with rainwater.
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Harry, on the pitching mound, gives no indication of noticing the deluge. His curls are stuck to the side of his neck with a mixture of rainwater and sweat, and his shirt clings to him, and his pitching hand is streaked with mud and grit to match the cowhide ball it holds. His pitches, which were mechanical even at the start of practice, have tipped over the edge into sloppiness. It is silent in the dugout and on the field. Everyone is watching and everyone is pretending to look away.
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"To answer your earlier question—no, I don’t think we’ll win. I also don’t think it matters that much.”
“How dare you,” Harry says, grinning, and draws himself up for another pitch, which finds its home in Kim’s glove with a satisfying muffled thunk. “How dare you defame the fucking sanctity of intramural community college ball, Kitsuragi. You’ve let the league down. You’ve let the team down. And, most importantly, you’ve let me down.”
“Uh huh," he intones, dry as ever. "Honestly, I’m just surprised that you managed to use the word ‘defame’ correctly in a sentence there."
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YOU - Do you really think they're trying to threaten me?
HUNT - Of course they are.
CONNECTION [Medium: Success] - Hot Mess? No, at least not intentionally.
YOU - What about his friend?
CONNECTION [Impossible: Failure] - You really can't tell. You're no mind reader, mon cœur.
YOU - Oh, I wouldn't write me off so fast. I have my days.
Recent bookmarks
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Chad is shorter than she expected, and she’s taller than he clearly thought, so there’s an awkward pause at the doorway as she looks over his head and he looks down at her chin, his brow twitching slightly as they mentally adjust to being the same height. He’s wearing a trench coat, which he unbuttons but does not take off, and his clothes underneath are fitted and dark, bland yet expensive. Alexa has been wearing the same pajamas for three days now, and there’s an eviction notice stapled to her door. His palm is cool and dry in hers as they shake hands, his grip too firm. “It’s good to meet you,” Chad says. “Lovely place you have.” He glances around as she leads him into the living room at his gesture, his eyes landing on the dishes piled in the sink, the withered flowers on the counter, the blanket and pillow she has on the couch, crumpled from her sleeping there. The bed has become too large for just herself to fall asleep in.
“Thank you,” she says, and wonders if she could actually kill him.
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Alexa, in the time between Melody's disappearance and their reunion.Bookmarked by kosy
26 Dec 2021
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Human thoughts and its effects: A second person cryptozoological narrative OR I thought the phasmid needed a character study and felt fit to provide.
Bookmarked by kosy
12 Dec 2021