#Yeah again

[divyasoup]

first blood

[flyingwargle]

“coach! i brought keiji with me!”

akaashi steps out from behind bokuto, a familiar sight to the black jackals. they gather around him with greetings and waves, and he replies with his usual formality. foster joins the huddle and gives him a warm smile. “welcome back, keiji. it’s always a pleasure to see you.”

“thank you for letting me stay.” he bows.

“we welcome family, friends, and significant others. isn’t that right, boys?” foster shoots a look at his players. meian and barnes whistle innocently, and hinata scratches the back of his head. “i always appreciate your observations.” he turns his heel. “koutarou, can i have a word with you? shugo, get started on warm-ups, please.”

“sure, coach.” meian gestures for his teammates to head to the court while bokuto walks with his coach to the side. akaashi is about to take his spot on the bench when an arm slings around his shoulder.

“hey, ‘kaashi, i gotta ask for yer advice,” miya says. “ya got a minute?”

“i’ll do my best to help. what is it?”

 “i need ta see ya set. bokkun keeps sayin’ my tosses are second-best an’ i ain’t settlin’ for that.”

akaashi glances over his shoulder. “i’m afraid you’re out of luck. i haven’t set a ball since high school.”

“bokkun tells me ya still play,” miya points out, raising an eyebrow. “casually.”

“yes, as a form of exercise. i’m sure he only says you’re second-best because of our relationship.”

“that man needs ta keep romance off the court,” miya grumbles. “yer here anyway, might as well play fer a bit. i know ya got a pair of court shoes in his apartment.”

“i’m not dressed for volleyball, if you haven’t noticed.”

“miya!” meian calls out. “get over here!”

“just think of how happy bokkun would be if he could hit yer tosses,” miya says, sliding toward his teammates. “ain’t nothin’ better than seein’ yer partner shine their brightest, y’know?” he jogs away, leaving akaashi to stare after him, stupefied.

if he thinks about it, there isn't anything special about his tosses. each spiker has their own preferences, from the ball’s height, distance from the net or antenna, and speed. bokuto never had any specifications; right from the start, he simply told akaashi, “just give me a toss! any toss!” later, he learned that the third-year setter didn’t toss to bokuto often because of how streaky his performance was, and it wasn’t until after he retired that bokuto’s full potential was realized.

no, that isn’t accurate. akaashi was never able to draw out his full strength, but with someone as talented as miya, he could definitely raise bokuto to greater heights. if bokuto had gone to a different school, had someone better as his setter, would he have taken victory home? but that implies a future where they’d never meet, one that akaashi doesn’t want to think about.

“keiji?”

akaashi startles. bokuto is in front of him, hands in his, concern in his eyes. “you’re overthinking again. is something on your mind?”

noise filters in and blocks out the rest of his thoughts. akaashi shakes himself, looks up at him. “no, everything is fine. if you don’t mind, i need to head back to the apartment for something. i’ll be right back.” he kisses his check in farewell and hurries off. he should have a spare t-shirt and shorts somewhere.

when he returns, practice is underway. he sits on a bench, chats with the assistant managers, who relay any observations he makes. afterwards, foster thanks him for his advice before heading out, and bokuto approaches. akaashi stands. “why don’t we play for a bit?”

“you want to play volleyball?” bokuto gasps. “but–“

“miya told me that you said his tosses are second-best, and he wants to know why. it appears he won’t take anything short of a live demonstration.” akaashi takes his jacket off, reveals the faded fukurodani gym strip that he once wore daily. “so why don’t we show him?”

“nice ta have ya join us, ‘kaashi,” miya says, standing between hinata and sakusa. “i’m ready ta see what yer tosses are like.”

“akaashi-san’s tosses are great!” hinata chirps. “they’re super easy to hit!”

“that was before. as for now…” akaashi stands at the net where the setter is positioned. “it…has been quite a while since i last did this.” he can’t even remember the last casual game he played, anywhere from last month to last year. the days tend to blur together, lost in the monotony of adulthood.

after he warms up and declares himself ready, bokuto marches forward to go first, but miya holds him off. “gotta save the best fer last, y’know?”

“i’ll go, then!” hinata stands at the end line, ball in hand. “any toss you’re comfortable with is fine, akaashi-san!” he throws his ball and makes his approach.

hinata’s contact point is much higher than before. he’s in the air longer, similar to hoshiumi-san. so the toss should be… akaashi jumps, sets the ball. hinata spikes it effortlessly, cheering as he lands. “nice toss!”

“nice kill!” bokuto cheers.

sakusa is next. “i prefer if it’s close to the net.” akaashi nods, watching the ball as it arches through the air. sakusa’s jumps aren’t as powerful, his main strength being the snap of his wrist. he sets it slightly lower, close to the net. his spike is parallel to the sideline.

“sharp!” hinata comments.

“not bad,” miya remarks.

bokuto is last. their eyes meet, his golden eyes radiating with nothing but love. akaashi smiles, simply raises his hands as the ball arches toward him. he sets it, and bokuto meets it in midair, arm pulled back, slamming the ball down with enough force that it bounces off the wall. when he lands, he pivots and picks akaashi up in his arms. “yup, your tosses are still the best!”

“bokkun,” miya whines, “ya gotta explain why! what makes my tosses second-best?”

“it’s because his tosses remind me of the best time in my life.” bokuto’s grin is wide, eyes on his boyfriend, a spark in its depths. “i have fun playing volleyball every day with you guys, but nothing beats playing with keiji. i’d never want to trade it for anything.”

akaashi feels his chest throb with adoration. all his overthinking was for nothing. “thank you, kou. i feel the same way.” his cheeks warm as bokuto leans forward to kiss him, his teammates making comments in mock disgust. he laughs, happy to be in his arms, watching him shine the brightest he has ever been.

[toesuckersplaining]

vreacts

[stgosupremacy]

i just dont know how the poor girl copes 🥺

[justaneedle]

My mind just wants to write something dark.

And while I have the great idea for this, aka a mermaid-siren Luke that drowning Thalia. But. It is precisely because this topic is about a water mythical creature that my brain cannot imagine it normally.

I gotta go read some horror stories about water-folk so get the idea.

Like, I kinda get the idea of open water being terrifying, but I don't have this fear myself, and I just need to get the feeling.

[loremaster]

coping with bad irl situations by creating bad fictional situations. time to put blorbo in the time loop!

[kuromipuzzles2000]

tbh guys...i don't think i'll draw today or neither the next days...i am so...bad mentally that i right now had lost the motivation to draw...to grab the mouse and do a trace in paint...if i ever come to something tonight would be a miracle...but for now...no

[bylersboy]

yearning

i'll go to sleep thinking about what it would feel like to be loved in a way I haven't felt before. to be loved for my mind, body, and soul. loved in a way that feels whole and genuine. loved in a way that feels safe. by a boy that is safe.

oh how he will love me.

[toastthewolfie]

tw: death (extras in the tags btw :3)

Astrid is constantly haunted by memories of Emily.

Memories of running on the beach, with the sun framing Emily, making her appear surreal with the light forming a angelic ring around her. Memories of getting dragged out of bed at 2am to go stargaze, making her appear like a child who’s wonder knows no bounds. Memories of sitting in a safehouse with their backs pressed together while one of them naps and the other keeps watch.

Memories of messing with the drill sergeants together and laugh-crying through the harsh consequences of their shenanigans. Memories of disassembling and reassembling weapons together. Memories of secretly treating small scrapes in their barracks.

The memory of that fucking expression right as she pushed Astrid out of the line of fire. That expression before the bullets hit. The memory of the way the life drained from her eyes. The horrid stench of iron as Astrid tried so desperately to keep Emily alive while mumbling reassuring nothings.

The memory of watching the small things that made Emily’s bed Emily’s disappear. The memory of secretly nabbing one of the small pins and one of her sweatshirts to just try and keep a piece of her best friend with her. To just try and keep a small piece of the ride or die friend she knew so well. It doesn’t matter to her that every single time she sees that pin or wears that sweatshirt, she has to fight the urge to crumple to the ground and cry because she would fight god if it meant getting her friend back, but she cant do that, so keeping small pieces of Emily with her is the next best thing.

[vermary]

She beated the shit out of the Warden

[oulkheir]

It was 4 in the morning, there was no light, no one outside and the silence sounded terrifying, but Ritsuka wasn’t afraid at all. He already knew who was waiting behind the door. Without looking through the peephole, he made sure to clench his jaws to their maximum capacity before opening the entry door.

“Hi Mafu… Ah, it’s you.”

Hiiragi lost all his enthusiasm at the sight of his bandmate rather than his precious childhood friend. Going all his way downstairs only to meet Ritsuka, who he was hanging out with enough during his work, felt like a waste of time.

“Yeah, it’s me. Did you already forget that I live together with him ?”

“Hm, that’s right.”

“And more importantly, what the hell do you need at 4 am ? Flour ? Salt ? Eggs ?”

Ritsuka looked desperate by Hiiragi’s break in. Of course, it was not the first time that his bandmate was showing his ass here at his door at a sleeping time to ask for something urgent only according to his definition.

“Don’t be stupid, who would need flour at 4 am ?”

[sweet-tragedys-stuff]

It's amazing what occurs to me in the middle of class (The headless waltz, It doesn't look good because I had no references)

[hydoutdubstep]

been a while since i last posted, but in that time i've developed my art style a little bit. figured i should update here since i'm beyond tired of twitter and it couldn't hurt to post again

[annicaax]

toa's book 2 is here which means I have to abandon Rio book 2 again. sorry rio. I love you as my best friend and I would rather read Thoma's path than yours... that said it's purely time constraint that am switching paths (also bc the plot in rio book 2 is a bit boring? yea boring it may be I see myself in rio, like we are a lot similar. trying to pursue our goals/passions, always giving ourselves to a cause/to our loved ones, not caring/realizing it's battering our body and mind, the health constraints the struggle the anguish, I love rio book in a totally different way and can relate to him so much ah) that said toa isn't my top fave but I like him and am super curious about his story, he deserves happiness an freedom from his suffocating family politics

[slaughterlmao]

[notthatgoodofaperson]

... how could i refuse this?

You're about to close on your very own, suspiciously affordable and comfortable house. Just before you sign the contract, the realtor shows you the required legal disclosure: your new house is haunted by the type of presence you'll get from this spinner wheel.

Of course it is.