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ashknife · 2 years

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The Firewall

This is my entry to the 2022 Inklings Challenge (@inklings-challenge). Although I keep it fade-to-black, the story contains elements of violence and prostitution. Feel free to point out errors and nitpick. I'm out of time to spend on this during the challenge (yay library school), but I can make corrections as needed.

I'm on Team Lewis. This is a portal fantasy that starts in a computer simulation. Transition to the real world happens through a wall of fire, hence the title. Fire plays a role in separation and new birth, while water (primarily through tears) speaks of redemption and forgiveness. Story after the break.

The Firewall

“Bernie. Yo, Bernie!”

Bernie drew a sharp breath as he faced his interruption: a man dressed in a suit just like he was, sporting shades, a gold watch, slick hair, handgun hidden under the coat. The only difference was that this man had blonde hair, while Bernie’s was a solid brown.

“What’s the matter, buddy? Did ya forget to breathe?” Bernie shook his head as if to clear…something. He wasn’t sure what, but it was something.

“I…maybe.” He looked back at the object of his fascination. Just inside an abandoned building, on the outskirts of Pleasure Circle, a wall of fire divided an empty room, but it seemed to not harm its surroundings. The flames danced with steady energy, forming patterns, shapes, and designs that were quickly consumed and replaced with others. The man gripped Bernie’s shoulder and silently observed the fire with him for a few moments.

“That is mesmerizing, isn’t it?” he finally said.

“Yeah. I don’t think I’ve seen the firewall here before, or this close. What do you think, Pat?”

“It ain’t causing us problems, just as long as nobody gets the dumb idea to get close. It’ll burn them up.”

“Shouldn’t it, you know, burn the building or something?”

“Eh, I don’t know. That’s too much mystery for me.” Pat tightened his grip on Bernie’s shoulder. “Too many questions make for uncomfortably sleepless nights. If I’m to have one of those, it should be with some good drinks, ya know what I mean?”

Bernie smirked half to himself.

“Speaking of which, our shift is nearly up, and I do believe we have some appointments to keep after.”

“Yeah. Let’s finish our patrol.”

Pleasure Circle. That’s what people call this city. It’s been around for as long as anyone can remember. The people who live here indulge day in and day out in whatever pleases them. Whether it is entertainment, booze, sex, drugs, or even just a plate of bacon and eggs with a cup of coffee, the Circle has it all, and it’s available all the time. The lights never dim, the energy is always high (or low, if that’s your thing), and there’s never a dull moment.

Even with all this play and indulgence, some find pleasure in work, and they, too, are catered to by staffing the various business and operations within the city. After all, someone has to cook the food, pour the drinks, and perform the entertainment. Sometimes there’s overindulgence, and people get unruly. That’s where folks like Bernie and Pat come in. They’re Enforcers, the security outfit of the Circle. They provide just enough order in this unruly place to keep it running smoothly. Enforcers are highly respected. Even the shadiest denizen finds their work reasonable, and it’s a crazy person who tries to openly challenge them.

Bernie and Pat rounded a corner at the outskirts and now walked toward the livelier parts of the Circle. Pat made a show of stretching.

“As expected, ain’t nobody out here,” he said.

“I wish that was always the case,” Bernie said. Pat winced.

“Hey, man, I drank three bottles of whiskey the night after we found that kid. Now I’m going to have to drink another to forget again.”

“Sorry,” Bernie said as he scratched the back of his head. “He was just eighteen, thought he’d already seen it all.”

“There’s so much to do here! How could he have already seen it all? He just became an adult. A whole new world had just opened up to him. Bah, now I’m going to need two bottles to forget.”

They were silent for several blocks.

“Hey,” Bernie said.

“Don’t,” Pat replied.

“But, really, what if…what if that kid had a point?”

Pat stopped, and Bernie with him. Pat leveled a serious look at his partner.

“Looks like I’m not the only one who needs to forget.”

Bernie tried to reply, but he looked around as if looking for the right words.

“I’ve never seen anyone jump through a firewall, either. That was grisly. Even in a place where everything is provided for us, we sometimes have to pay a price for our work. You know, for the good of the city.”

Bernie nodded slowly.

“Hey, our shift’s over, and your appointment is right over there, isn’t it?”

Bernie looked. Just a block down and across the street was one of his favorites, Castle Comforts, where everyone feels like royalty.

“We’re already here?”

“Lost sense of time, did you? Too much thinking will do that to you, buddy. Come on, I’ll walk ya there. There’s a bar not much further.”

Pat practically yanked Bernie down the street.

“Look, we’re security. Hired muscle. We keep people from hurting themselves and each other. Not a lot of time to be considering things like, ‘Why,’ and ‘How.’ That’s for them brainy types at the university over there. Lord knows how they find any of that fun.”

He spat.

“Of course, some people just don’t see why we like doing constructive things with our hands. I guess there are all types, eh? Okay, here we are, and I see there are a few ladies ready to do some work of their own.”

Castle Comforts was a hotel built like a castle that did a poor job of hiding that it was a hotel. . The giant stones of the castle wall were plastic. The English oak doors were plastic. The gold finery was also plastic. The heraldry and tapestries were more paper than cloth. However, nobody came here to reenact medieval history. A door to one of the fancier suites lay open, and surrounding it were five princesses in various states of dress. As soon as Pat dragged Bernie into the parking lot, the ladies waved and begged for an audience with their lord.

“Well, time to forget your troubles, pal.” Pat pushed Bernie forward. “Got get ‘em, Your Majesty! I’ll be at the Apollo if you need anything.”

------

Bernie lay in bed and stared at the ceiling. The blinking neon sign outside occasionally broke through the blinds to wash his room with its indistinct, insufficient glow. The princesses left some time ago, but not before giving him the royal treatment promised. He endured the most exciting night he ever had and struggled now to think of any other time he had it this good. In this room, he was king. After hours of consideration, he finally made his grave decree.

“What am I doing?”

Day after day, for weeks, months, years, he worked, indulged, slept, and got up to work again. He carried drunkards, staunched wounds, directed people around the dead, and more. People were victims of their pleasure. Yet for all he had seen, he went to his dens of delight to forget. The only difference between himself and Pat? Their drug of choice. Pat thought women were exhausting. Bernie didn’t like hangovers.

The kid they found last week. Pat and Bernie stopped him from running into the firewall, but the kid fought them off with animal ferocity. He had enough of the Circle. He wanted to know what was on the other side of the firewall.

“This is pointless. Pointless,” he repeated as the Enforcers tried to wrestle him down. Eventually, the kid won, and he jumped into the firewall only to burn to death.

Bernie got up and vomited into the sink. Even the memory of burnt flesh in his nostrils was too much. He turned the faucet on, tried to clean up the sink, and rinsed his mouth out. He splashed his face with the tepid water and rubbed it through a towel before staring at it in the mirror. Empty eyes stared back at him. He shook his head. The lost couldn’t help the lost. He put his clothes on and stepped out into the night.

------

Lifeless lights blinked throughout the city. Light fog and some drizzle dampened the streets and buildings with a reflective coating that bathed everything in a ghostly glow. Bernie barely noticed as he shuffled down the street. The glamour surrounding him could distract him no longer. A familiar voice, on the other hand, could.

“Heeeey, buddy!” Pat slurred from nearby. Bernie looked up. Somehow, he walked himself right to the Apollo. Pat stood just outside, surrounded by several people who laughed at his half-told jokes as he tried very hard to introduce the crowd to Bernie.

‘Thish…thish iz…” Pat cleared his throat and focused really hard on enunciating his next few words, his mouth exaggerating each syllable. “Bernie! This is hish royal majeshty, Bernie, my beshtest buddy EVER.” Pat’s adoring crowd flashed Bernie smiles as bright as the surrounding lights.

“How’d it go, man,” Pat said as he stumbled to Bernie. He tripped over his own feet in the attempt, but Bernie caught him almost out of instinct. The jostling did not sit well with Pat, who promptly vomited all over Bernie’s sleeve. Bernie shook it off, and a well-timed shower replaced the drizzle and slowly washed the sidewalk clean.

“It was…great,” Bernie said. “Are you ok?”

“Yeah! Yeah,” Pat said as he regained some semblance of balance. “You wanna join us? It’sh great fun right now!”

“No, I think I just need to have a walk,” Bernie said.

“A walk in the rain! That’s a great idea! Man, it’s weird how we don’t get wet, huh?”

Bernie’s eyes opened wide for a moment. He looked at himself, at Pat, and his crowd. Not a single inch of clothing got soaked in the rain. They were all dry. Come to think of it, none of Pat’s vomit stuck to his suit. That didn’t seem normal. He shook his head and regained his composure.

“Yeah, I guess it is. I never noticed,” Bernie said. Pat laughed.

A new man in a suit stepped out from behind the crowd and casually worked through and around Pat’s exaggerated movements until Pat leaned on his shoulder and the man’s arm wrapped around the drunk’s waist. Bernie recognized him at once.

“Enrique,” Bernie said as he nodded in greeting.

“Hey, Bernie, you day shift guys sure have something rough going on if I have to keep hauling his sorry butt back home like this,” Enrique said.

“I’m sorry,” Bernie said.

“Heeeey, Ernie, good to see ya, buddy!” Pat declared to the delight of his crowd.

“Don’t be sorry. It’s what we’re here for, right? I’ll take care of him since you’re still off-duty,” Enrique said. “Let’s go, Pat. Say goodbye to everyone.”

“Bye-bye, everybody! I love you all,” Pat said as Enrique guided him down the street. His crowd hustled back into the bar. Bernie shook his head once again and walked the opposite way as Pat’s drunken serenade drifted into the distance.

------

Bernie continued aimlessly through the streets, lost in his thoughts. Eventually, he stopped in front of an abandoned building. Perhaps those steps weren’t so aimless after all. He stared into the door at the firewall that mesmerized him so earlier. He squinted at the sight as if trying to discern its secrets. The firewall could burn that kid, but it did nothing to this building. Why did the water from the sink feel wet, but the rain did not? How was his suit clean?

“Is any of this real?” he muttered.

He gasped. No, it couldn’t be. He looked harder at the firewall. No, not there. Behind it. Surely it was behind the flames. It was. No, not it. She was. Is. Staring back at Bernie, through the flames, was a woman with dark, curly hair, wearing a simple robe.

“Hello?” Bernie called out, waving his hand in greeting. The woman simply stared back.

“Can you hear me?” he said, waving harder. She continued to stare. No, stare wasn’t the right word. Staring seemed like such a passive thing. Her face held an expression, something he only heard of before, maybe read about or seen in a picture. Her “stare” communicated something. It was…it was…pity? Yes, it was pity. She pitied him.

This realization stunned Bernie. He stood there for a moment with his mouth agape. Then he felt another unusual emotion: anger. Why was he to be pitied? What was wrong with him? Clearly, she knew something, and he was going to find out.

He approached the firewall but stopped just short of it. He could feel its heat. These really were dangerous. They killed that kid. They could kill him. But somehow that woman existed on the other side. There was something beyond Pleasure Circle. He had to know. He had to know what was out there, and why he should be pitied, and why she wasn’t a part of the city. He had to know. He charged through the fire.

Never in his life had he felt such pain. Never had heat burned so hot. Never had his skin seared so bad. Never had he felt such resistance. The firewall pushed back against his advance. He cried in agony. He wasn’t going to make it. But then his face broke through, and he could see the woman clearly. She no longer pitied him, but now she reached out her hand. He had to reach out to her. He burned hotter the harder he pushed, and his screams reached a fevered pitch until his hand broke through and joined with hers.

Bright white engulfed him in pain not meant for mortal men.

------

The white turned into a confusing array of browns. He felt the weight of fresh air as it burned into his lungs. He felt the hand of the woman pull him, and he stumbled forward as if he forgot to walk. He fell to his knees, and in a quick, fluid motion, she spun him around so that he lay on his back with his head resting on her lap. He felt things stuck in his arms and legs. His bare skin felt the cool breeze blow over it, and he shivered. Where was his suit? He could only feel his skin against the hard floor and the rough fabric of her robe. Pain jolted with every movement, every breeze, every breath, It hurt to scream. It hurt to live, but he couldn’t bear the thought of dying. He couldn’t help but cry out.

“In here!” the woman yelled with a tremble in her voice. Was she scared? Was she scared of him? Was she scared for him? He tried to take deep breaths to calm down.

“Yes,” she said to him as she wiped the sweat pouring from his brow. “That’s right, deep breaths. Shh…” She breathed deep with him, and he tried to match her rhythm. He jumped at the sound of deep footsteps entering the room.

“Deep breaths,” she repeated. He fought the urge to panic and resumed the routine. Slowly, he calmed down, and the pain partially subsided. His vision came into focus. Immediately above him was the woman he saw through the firewall. She held a damp rag over his brow. Past her was the wall and ceiling of a room long unused. The tiles and brickwork were faded and cracked as if they had seen nothing but countless years of weather and sun. There were a couple of men, also in earthen robes, who were bent over and rummaging through some boxes.

“What’s his name?” one of them asked.

“I didn’t see,” the woman said.

“Okay,” the man replied. He stood up and walked to what appeared to be a chair. It was clearly more advanced than what these people appeared to be. It looked like an elaborate, futuristic recliner. The seat had white cushions, and surrounding it were all kinds of pads attached to cords that somehow met under the base of the chair. Several of the pads looked burnt, and some of the cords did not go to those pads, but instead led straight to Bernie’s nude body, where they were attached with large needles. Bernie whimpered.

“It’s okay,” the woman whispered.

“Aha!” The man inspecting the chair saw something on the back. “Bernard.”

“B-Bernie,” Bernie eked out. The man at the chair nodded.

“Okay. Bernie.” He returned to his box to look for more things in it.

“Hi, Bernie. I’m Bob. I see you noticed those tubes, there,” the other man said. He put on a face mask and tossed one to the woman, who put it on. Bernie nodded nervously. He knew where this was going.

“Yeah, it’s gonna hurt. I’m sorry. You’re gonna be ok, but we need to do this if you’re gonna be free.”

“O-okay,” Bernie said.

“That man over there, Mike, he’s going to put another, smaller tube in you. It’s called an I.V. It doesn’t do quite as much as these big tubes, but it can go with us, and we can use it to put medicine in you.” Mike looked up, waved with a half-gloved hand, and continued his rummaging.

“You listen to Grace. You newbies aren’t used to pain when you leave the Circle. She will coach you on getting through these bumps. It won’t be as bad as getting out, but you’re not going to like it.”

Bernie nodded again. Grace set aside the soaked cloth she was using to wipe Bernie’s brow. She brought out a fresh, clean one and applied it to his forehead.

The prick from the I.V. was hard, but nothing like what he endured going through the firewall. Each tube they pulled left large, pencil-sized holes in his body, but they too didn’t feel anything like what he just endured. But Mike was right. It was nearly unbearable. He listened to Grace’s coaching and complied the best he could, but he filled the rest of his time sobbing. It wasn’t just the pain. It was also from shame. She looked upon him with pity again, and he knew she was right to do so.

------

Several days passed since Bernie crossed the firewall. The medics who rescued him removed all the tubes implanted into him and bandaged him up. In a few weeks, they would be scars. Parts of his head, chest, arms, and legs endured burns from the console (what they called the chair he woke up in) mimicking the heat of the firewall, thus the burnt pads. The world outside was wide, desolate, and terrifying. There weren’t a lot of convenient amenities. Many places were in ruin. Yet, there was some semblance of technology and civilization. It was difficult to comprehend.

For now, his world was this tiny room in a hospital. There was an actual night and day cycle, whereas Pleasure Circle cycled between twilight and night. When did the night get to be so cold? Why was the day hot? Why was it so hard to see during the day? There were so many new sensations he wasn’t used to.

At the sink, he filled a cup with water, and slowly he shuffled to the window, which overlooked a small garden. There were some bushes of different types, a lawn with a large tree in the center, a walking path that weaved through it all, and various flowers that bordered the path. It was nothing exciting, but there was something peaceful about it. He looked down on the window sill, at the plant he was given the day after he was admitted. It had long, thin, green needles. A spider plant, they told him. Give it some sun and a little water every day. It seemed an easy enough task. He noticed it didn’t look well when he gave it a lot of water, but it seemed to flourish with half of the cup each day. The other half he drank.

A gentle knock at the door interrupted his reverie, and an old man walked in. His face resembled a shriveled raisin, but there was twinkle in his eyes and a joy in his smile that defied his age. With one hand, he steadied himself with a cane someone had whittled from a tree branch. With the other, he extended toward Bernie. Bernie shook it.

“Are you an elder here?” Bernie asked.

“Yes, yes,” the man said. “I think that’s the right word. I am Deontae, and I am one of the leaders of this community. I know this world is a bit of a shock, but it is so good of you to join us.”

“I didn’t think there was an outside world, or that it was in such ruin. And yet…” Bernie waved his hands around. “How does all this technology still function?”

“We don’t have the manpower to build much of anything, but we can scavenge, repurpose, and repair. If everyone could leave their consoles, we’d have enough to start rebuilding.”

“What are these consoles?”

“We don’t really know, only that people are born in them, live in them, and die in them. We can’t just pull them out, either. Those die…horrifically. They have to leave on their own volition. Even that isn’t guaranteed. There was a kid who tried to leave the Circle group a week before you, but he burned up in his console.”

“He didn’t…I…” Bernie choked up. Deontae’s raised an eyebrow.

“You saw that on your end, too, huh? What did you do in Pleasure Circle?”

“I was an Enforcer.”

“Oh!” Deontae laughed. The old man’s face livened up even more. “I never expected to meet one! I’ve heard of you Enforcers, but I think you’re the first to come out! How exciting!”

“Huh…” Bernie slumped.

“Now, now, son, don’t let that get you down. There are others from Pleasure Circle here if you need a place to start connecting. You are not alone here.” Deontae lifted his cane and lightly jabbed Bernie’s chest. “You are now part of our community.”

Bernie nodded.

“I know it’s a lot to take in, but you’ll get the hang of it. You’re one of the quicker ones. And what’s this?” Deontae herded Bernie to the side with his cane and approached the plant on the window sill. “Well, well, well. You did good, son. Most people stare at the plant or have no idea what to do with the simple instructions we gave them. They said you started to drown it, but it seems now you figured out how to care for it. Look at those leaves. Mm!”

“That was a test?”

“Yes, it was a test. Most people coming out of a console have no idea how to do anything in real life. We tell them to water the plant and give it some sunlight, but they find all kinds of ways to kill it. Some water too much and don’t understand what’s going on. Some give it too much sunlight. Some think the light in the room is enough. Some don’t water it because they don’t understand where we’re getting it from. But you, you’re one of the few that figured it out. We don’t have to train you much, just a little education to get you up to speed.”

Bernie scratched the back of his head.

“You said earlier that the Circle was a group,” he said.

“Yes. Pleasure Circle is what you would call a simulation. It’s a reality created by machines like this.” Deontae pointed to a computer. “As far as we know, there are twenty different simulations going. Some have people swinging swords and killing monsters. Some have people running from monsters. Some are just recreations of real life. Pleasure Circle is a hedonist paradise, we hear.”

“Hedonist?”

“We have some books for you to read. You’ll get what I mean later. For now, I want you to know that after you’ve finished healing up, we’ll put you to work. You were a kind of policeman in your simulation, but we have enough security. How would you feel about keeping a garden?”

“Like, growing flowers and plants?”

“Yes. We need more food than flowers, but cultivating a few of the latter wouldn’t be out of the question. I have some of my boys breaking up the ground by a chapel. When it’s time, we’ll move you there. We’ll have a room in there prepared for you. It’ll have some basic amenities, and there is some space for reading and such. Consider it a welcoming gift for your new life.”

“I don’t know what to think. Thank you, I guess.”

Deontae pat Bernie’s arm.

“I’ll take my leave. Let me know if you need something. We’ll do everything we can to get you on your feet, Bernie.”

“I…”

“Hm?”

“Bernard. It’s Bernard.”

“Of course. Welcome home, Bernard.”

Bernard nodded and watched the raisin man leave.

------

A few days passed. Bernard was cleared for discharge. Deontae delivered a fresh set of robes, and the hospital, after training him one grooming, provided some toiletries for his personal use. After he showered, he wrapped a towel around himself and stepped out to find Grace waiting for him.

“I am here to show you how to put these on,” she said, pointing to the robes.

“Oh, right. That would be helpful,” Bernard replied.

“Have a seat,” she said.

He sat on the bed and watched her demonstrate how to don a robe and the different ways it could be adjusted. It was only slightly more complicated than the hospital gowns he wore thus far, but it was surprisingly versatile.

“Now you do it,” she said.

He took off his towel and donned his robe with all the care and attention to detail of a child learning to dress themselves for the first time. When he was done, he looked in the mirror. The garment fit perfectly. He did some of the adjustments that he remembered.

“Good,” Grace said. “You learn quick.”

Bernie scratched the back of his head.

“You’re…uh…different…” he begun.

“Than the women in your simulation?”

“Yeah,” he muttered.

“I’m alive, with feelings, thoughts, and dreams of my own. My work isn’t for someone else’s pleasure,” she responded matter-of-factly.

“I don’t understand,” he said, trying to find something else to look at. He finally chose the arms of his robe, which were surprisingly soft given how rough they looked. But then he saw his hands. Alive, with feelings, thoughts, and dreams of my own. She was a person. The ladies at Castle Comforts were simulations, but they were simulations of actual people, like he was. He used a lot of people. His hands were dirty. He rushed to the sink, turned the water on, covered his hands in soap, and tried to wash the filth off, but none of it came off. He scrubbed harder and harder, but if anything, his hands grew dirtier. A gentle touch on his elbow startled him.

“You can’t wash that kind off like real dirt,” Grace said.

Bernard looked at her and back at his hands. The dirt wasn’t actually there, but somehow it was. He teared up.

“What have I done?”

“Time, Bernard. You need time to think about everything. It will be ok.” Grace grabbed a tissue and wiped his eyes dry. “One step at a time. It’s time to go to your new home.”

“Okay,” he said, looking back and forth between his hands and the sink.

------

Months passed. Bernard was given a room in a small cathedral. People came and went in the chapel, where people prayed to whomever at the pews, but the back areas containing office space were sealed off to the public and turned into living quarters. Bernie was the first to take up residence. Next to his room was a small library of old books on many topics. He read everything he could about gardening and tried to make what he had work, mostly to good effect. Within a couple of months, he managed small crops of tomatoes, beans, and squash, enough to feed himself and several others until the next harvest. He kept a small plot of colorful chrysanthemums for his own diversion.

He read other works by other authors, some of which he heard about and quoted out of context while in the Circle. Philosophers, thinkers, stories, matters of faith, the topics that made people stay up at night questioning their existence. The kinds of things people don’t like to think about in the Circle.

Life was hard. The work was hard. The learning was hard. But there was a satisfaction in learning new things, making things work, and wrestling out the questions that burned within him. Pleasure Circle constantly pleased him, but in this life in the real world, in this unnamed community, he found fulfillment. He grew. He understood.

But the more he understood, the dirtier his hands became.

He sought out other people who came from the Circle. He didn’t recognize any of them, but the younger ones recognized him and told him of times he helped people recover from their overindulgence. With all the puke, the blood, the harsh words, and more, they knew what a difficult job the Enforcers had, and they respected him all the more for his new work as a gardener. But their hands weren’t dirty like his.

He scoured the library for help, but nothing seemed to deal with these stains. He looked through titles left and right. He looked around and behind the shelves for anything. He looked between books to see if there was anything hidden behind them. All the jostling caused a single, old book to plop onto the ground. He picked it up, dusted it off, and inspected its worn cover. If there were any lettering on it, it had since faded. Unlike the cardboard or paper coverings of the other books, this one seemed to be leather. He opened it, felt its thin, seemingly fragile pages, thumbed through them, and stopped when he noticed some red text. He read one of the red lines.

“‘Come to me, all who are weary, and I will give you rest,’” it said.

It struck a chord deep within him, and for several days he read through the book, sometimes while in the middle of his duties. When he finished, he looked around him. The ruin somehow made sense. The cathedral made sense. All of the images within it that survived the ravages of time made sense. He ran into the sanctuary, and for the first time in his life, he prayed.

His hands looked a little less dirty.

And now he found a purpose.

------

“What do you mean, ‘Is there anyone who can watch this garden?’” Deontae looked incredulous. “Have you lost your mind?”

“No,” Bernard said. “No. I think I found it, actually.” He held the Bible out to his mentor, who took and thumbed through it.

“Well, I’ll be. I didn’t think I’d see one of these again. Was this in that little library?”

“Yeah.”

Deontae’s brow furrowed.

“You want to go back.”

Bernard nodded once.

“You want to be a missionary.”

Bernard nodded once again. Deontae smiled.

“That’s crazy, Bernard. Crazy. But if I remember this book, that’s the kind of people we need sometimes. I’ll go find Grace and have her guide you back to your console.”

“That’s it? I thought you’d actually protest.”

“Look, son, I’ve seen and heard all kinds of crazy things. I’ve gotten a nose for when something is the wrong kind of crazy. This don’t seem like the wrong kind.”

“I don’t get it.”

“Faith, son. You have it believing what this book said. Now I have it agreeing with your crazy idea. Just don’t prove me wrong, okay?”

“I…may not come back.”

Deontae raised an eyebrow, and then he bowed his head for a moment. He looked back up with tears in his eyes.

“Would it really come to that?” he asked.

“Probably. Order 51, it’s called. It’s the only one with a punishment,” Bernard replied

“I’ll tell them you went on a journey of discovery. I think it might be easier for people to digest.”

“It wouldn’t be wrong.”

“Good-bye, Bernard,” Deontae said as he walked away. “Grace will meet you at the cathedral.”

------

Grace led Bernard through the settled parts of the community to the ruins of tall buildings. At one time, they were called apartments, and they housed many families. Now, they still house people, but in each of the ruined rooms is a single person attached to a console powered by who knows what.

They weaved through several broken-up streets to one of the smaller buildings, this one only eight stories tall. They climbed stairs up to the fifth floor, and then they down three doors to the room where Bernard first came into the world. Both of them gasped. When they left, the pads were burnt and the tubes stuck into him were left in disarray. The chair now looked pristine, as if nothing had ever happened to it. It was open and ready to receive Bernard once again. He looked at the back to see a nameplate. Engraved on it was the name, “Bernard Jones,” and according to the date on there, he was around 45 years old.

“My birthday was a week ago,” he said.

“Happy birthday,” Grace said.

“Thank you,” he said with a little smile.

“Do you have to do this?”

“Yeah. I need to tell the people in there what’s out here. They’re living a lie.”

“I have watched you grow so much. Why can’t you counsel the people who come out, just as I have done for you?” Since Bernard moved into the cathedral, Grace had visited him each week to teach him and help him adjust to normal life.

“It would take too long. I would die before many of them did. This is the better way. It might get enough people out to start rebuilding.”

Grace nodded.

“I have enjoyed our weekly meetings. The many hours we have talked have been the best part of being out here. You have been a dear friend to me, Grace.”

“I don’t want to lose you, Bernard.” Her eyes watered. He stepped forward, and they embraced as they wept. He wiped their tears with his hand, and the dirt on them seemed to fall off.

“I think I understand,” he mused. She nodded and stepped back to the door.

“Sit in the console. It should do everything else,” she said.

He did so, and it immediately came to life. The pads clasped all over his body. The needled tried helplessly to break through his robes.

“I won’t be needing those,” he said to himself.

“Bye, Ber–” Grace started before everything was replaced with a loud, bright light.

------

Bernard stood outside the abandoned building, right where he jumped through the firewall. He looked back in and saw that it was still there, its flames just as mesmerizing as ever. He laughed to himself and walked purposefully toward the middle of the city. Remembering conversations with people who came from the game simulations, he had an idea.

“Time,” he said. A display came up in front of him showing the time within Pleasure Circle…and the time outside. He didn’t expect it to work, but it did, and it confirmed for him that he was in a simulation. He considered the time, thought for a moment, and then tried something else.

“Take me to Pleasure Fountain.” Yes, this is where he should be at this time. At the command, Bernard’s surroundings warped and bent until he stood next to the fountain that was the center of the Circle. People around jumped at the sight of him suddenly appearing with a brief flash of light. They talked among themselves and pointed at him and his simple robes.

“What kind of trick was that?” a familiar voice called out. Pat ran up to investigate, and his jaw dropped when he saw Bernard.

“Bernie? Is that you? Bernie!!”

“Hello, Pat,” Bernard said.

“Eloquent as ever, buddy. Where have you been? You’ve been gone for years!”

“It’s only been about seven months.”

“What? No, no, no, it’s been seven years. What are you talking about? And what’s with this getup?”

“I’ve been outside.”

The crowd that formed jumped back as if Bernard carried a deadly plague. Some people screamed in terror and ran.

“Outside? What do you mean outside? There’s nothing past the firewalls,” Pat said.

“Not here, no. But outside this…simulation, there’s a whole new world out there. There’s sunlight. There’s pain. There’s fresh air. There’s rain that makes you wet when it falls. There’s–” A click from a handgun interrupted him. Pat stared wide-eyed at Bernard, his gun pointed at his old partner.

“Bernie, what kind of crazy talk is this?”

“It’s Bernard, Pat.”

“Bernie, Bernard, whatever. What are you playing at?” A tear streamed down his face.

“Nothing, Pat. This world isn’t real. It’s a hedonist paradise created by a computer to hold us captive. It’s all fa–”

“Stop it. This is nothing like you! You need to suit up and go and enjoy the ladies at Castle Comforts and…and…”

“Come with me, Pat,” Bernard said.

“I can’t. I can’t. The firewall is supposed to protect us from anything out there. Man, just get changed and get back to normal life. Don’t make me invoke Order 51.”

“‘Terminate all outside interference,’” Bernard quoted. Streams covered Pat’s face.

“Please don’t make me do this,” Pat pleaded.

“I came back to do what I must. You need to do what you must,” Bernard said. His calm, resolute manner seemed to agitate Pat all the more.

“Bernie!”

Pat sobbed as he pulled the trigger.

------

“Daddy, look!” A little girl placed an old book on her father’s lap. It was open to the picture of a large dog carrying a small cask tied to its neck.

“Oh, what a big dog. What kind is it, sweetie?”

“It’s called a St. Bernard!”

Daddy shifted uncomfortably.

“Is that so?” he said.

“Yeah! They would go and find people in trouble and rescue them. Aren’t they great? It’s just like that guy people talk about.”

“Yeah. I guess you’re right.”

“This dog should be happy to be named after Saint Bernard.”

“You’re right, sweetie. Hey, why don’t you go show your brothers down in the field? It looks like they’re taking a break.”

“Okay!” She grabbed the book and scampered off.

Daddy buried his face into his hands. From behind, his wife circled her arms around him.

“Grace,” he said. The man shuddered. He pulled his hands back. For twenty years, he never could figure out how to wash the blood off of them.

“I…I killed him. Shot him in the street. Because I didn’t want to listen to him. I wanted to stay where I was comfortable. How many people suffered because we wouldn’t listen? He was my best friend, and I killed him!” Patrick clenched his fists. Grace held him tighter.

“I know, love. He left knowing he would die, and you were the only one carrying that kind of guilt. But know this: your bullet killed one and saved thousands.” After Bernard’s death, many people in the Circle questioned what they were doing, Patrick among them. He dropped the bottle and followed in his friend’s footsteps. The resulting exodus was almost too much for the community to handle, but now there were enough people to rebuild. Patrick and Grace, with their children, resided in one of the first new houses built.

“Shouldn’t you be angry with me?”

“You took something from me, but you repaid your debt many times over. You are not the man you were. Let it go.”

“I’m sorry,” he wept. As the tears fell, some of the blood began to wash off.

#inklingschallenge #team lewis #genre: portal fantasy #imagery: fire #imagery: water #story: complete

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chidoroki · 1 year

Text

Hell’s Paradise EP1

aka: gabimaru the hollow soft. he’s a good boy.

The fact this gave me Dororo vibes and is also produced by MAPPA means I’m in for a good time.. although nothing says “happy new series day” like starting off with an execution. Hurray death?

“Furthermore, beheading a person with a single blow is next to impossible. In most cases, several blows are required to behead a person, which makes executions a horrific spectacle.” Seeing how Gabimaru has scars on the back of his neck already I assume it ain’t easy to kill this man.

Can he like.. not actually die? His neck broke that sword in half..

Let’s goooo OP! The little bit we heard from trailers has literally been stuck in my head for weeks now.

Oohh it’s all so pretty.. the song was as good as expected too!

Okay watching it over again and noticing a whole lot of flowers, Gabimaru blazing like an infernal, Tenza badly injured, the blonde chick with the eye scar possibly Gabimaru’s wife? and an unexpected sweet smile from Chobei. Oh I’m so excited to see everyone.

Our man is from the hidden rock village hm? Do ya know Deidara?.. Is that how he broke the blade. Are you made out of stone my guy?

“For someone from Iwagakure, breaking a blade with your own flesh is a simple task.” “Well, yeah. Someone that shitty with a sword can’t hurt me.” Pfft not even four minutes in and he’s won me over.

People have tried stabbing him with a spear to kill him and once said spear breaks, all he can say is “sorry.” No, I’m sorry, I love him so much already.

They even tried burning him alive to no avail. Sweetie are you cursed or something?

This guy holding baby Gabimaru really just killed his parents in front of him?

He can’t even be pulled apart by two bulls.. why does death always escape you sir if you wish for it so bad?

“I had the chief’s recognition and married his daughter. But his daughter was a real idiot.” Wow Gabimaru, tell me how you really feel.

Dude you said you would give up on life yet here you are yet again surviving another execution, which this time is nonchalantly walking out of burning oil like it’s no big deal.

Okay I’ve been hearing a small bell chime whenever Sagiri was onscreen but I couldn’t figure out where the hell the actually bell was til now.

Oh shit, he’s actually scared she could kill him! That vision sliced his head clean off.

“Do I not want to die?” Apparently not! Heaven knows why though.

“To you, is she not your reason to live?” Aw he does care for wifey. But aaah look at the smile and blush of his in the flashback!

Bro he spoke softly this whole time but hearing him yell out now against Sagiri to try and convince himself he has no attachments feels so raw and real. His voice actor is nailing it.

Ah I was right, the lady in the OP with the scar was his wife. Ma’am what is your name? You’re being so sweet to our main man.

Wait, her own father burned her face? What a bastard.

Gabimaru got so flustered from just a simple kiss. He is so precious!

“Someone like you couldn’t possibly be hollow.” Such a pleasant surprise to see he’s not actually emotionless. I didn’t expect him to act this way at all but I love it.

Humans become flowers in the underworld place? Suddenly the OP doesn’t seem very beautiful..

“Traveling to a mysterious island with heinous criminals condemned to death and competing with them for a pardon is the only way for you to be reunited with her.” So I assume just one criminal, whomever returns with the elixir of life, will be spared, while the others will be killed hm? Which is a shame because despite not seeing anyone else yet I’m quite curious to meet the others we’ve saw glimpses of in trailers! And I’m not ready to get attached to them like I already have to Gabimaru if they’re all gonna die!

Ooohh he’s finally using some ninjutsu!

He can be so fierce yet so laid back, how impressive.

I was about to comment on how calming the ending song is focusing on Sagiri til it gives us flashes of Gabimaru going crazy, most likely killing enemies. Oops.

MMHHMM overall a real strong start! Gabimaru is already such a joy to watch and the animation is nice so far too.

#hell's paradise #episode reaction

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criticalcrux · 1 year

Text

cont'd [x]

@Viciousvizard

Hiyori also helped herself to some of Love’s jagabee crisps before perching down beside him and animatedly explaining what and how she wanted to bring about romance in her friends’ lives. As well as, perhaps her own. Love was named after Love, he must know a few things.

“They absolutely want the help,” she nodded stoicly. “I mean… if they come to ME for advice, they’re pretty damn desperate.”

After all, she had only dated 1 guy and married that 1 guy. Her experience was based on this 1 person she has loved her entire life. And even that love… was not faring so well right now. She tried not to squirm in guilt about it and instead, zeroed in with what he was saying.

“Yeah… I mean, it ain’t like my friends don’t know each other. But yer right. I s'pose the most I can do right now is just, reassure and cheer 'em on. Though… Love, what does gentling handling look like? What sorta words would ya say?”

He relaxed a little once he noticed his friend taking to sharing snacks, he didn't mind one bit, there was more than enough and it signaled to him that she was feeling comfortable, plus they were damn good so he couldn't blame her. Instead he took to grabbing another handful for himself, snacking while listening.

A noticeable smirk formed at her remarks.

"I see, guess you got a point there." He added through a light laugh.

"Sounds like they'd actually be open to some suggestions and advice. In that case, guess I better explain what I meant by handle gently."

He wasn't sure how this next part would go over with the rambuncious, haste-prone blonde but he was about to do what he could to help out. Her friends were his friends, afterall.

"Gentle handling, that's when you apply a lot of attention and care to something that you wouldn't want to break. Y'see, the same way something physical can be fragile, it can also be that way when it comes to situations between people. Especially when emotions get involved."

Thinking about it now, emotions sort of reminded him of kido training. The energies seem like some invisible and often elusive force but once that balance is found things flow with ease. If it came to it, he'd use that analogy later.

"As long as we take some precaution and understand how delicate things might be, I think we can get some of those sparks flying, for sure." He nodded and chomped another crisp.

"I'd say it'd be best to take it slow. Instead of bringing up the past right away maybe allow things like memories to rise organically as they begin to spend more time together. And I wouldn't recommend that they go on dates to places that hold bad memories right away. Could spell disaster! Saw it happen in a romance manga once."

#viciousvizard #muse!love #[ooc: Help is on the waaaay!]

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todoroki-waifu · 3 years

Text

Atsumu x F! Reader

Scenario: When you try to subtly confess to Atsumu.

Word Count: 1,970

Genre: Fluff and humor.

Warnings: Cursing, female reader, and some OOC-ness (maybe?). My first time writing for Atsumu and the rest of the Inarizaki team.

————

“I get that she’s the most beautiful here, but we are here to check out the art, too.” Atsumu jumps slightly at a voice and hand on his shoulder.

“‘Samu!"

"Could you be any more obvious?"

"I-I wasn’t doing anything!” Atsumu huffs, a blush attacking his face as he shakes off his brother’s hand.

“Why don’t you ask her out already before someone else does?"

"I’m working on it!"

"Hey, who’s that with __(y/n)?” Suna chimes into their conversation, nodding to where you had been standing and admiring a portrait. The two see a man conversing with you, both of you very engaged in whatever topic that was being discussed. He brought out a small electronic device, looking a bit nervous as he showed you the screen.

“He’s probably going to ask for her number.” Osamu replies indifferently, but did a quick glance at his sibling.

“What?!” Atsumu immediately leaves the group.

“Wait, but doesn’t that guy-” Aran questions, but Kita cuts him off while the others hold in their chuckles.

“Let him figure it out."

——-

"So if you put your-” While you were listening to the young man who approached you, a familiar face made himself known.

“Hey, buddy, is there a problem over here?” Atsumu suddenly inserts himself in between you and the stranger. He stands tall, looming over the shorter male.

“N-no, there is no problem.”

“Atsumu-kun, he was just-” You placed a hand on his arm and tried to explain the situation.

“Don’t worry, __(y/n)-chan. I got this.” Atsumu gently pushes you behind him to hide you.

“Was there something you needed from her?” He continues.

“No, si-sir. I-I was only trying to-”

“Well, if you ain’t got any business with her, I suggest you beat it.” The blonde twin glares at the male hiding behind his black device. He smirks victoriously, watching the scared stranger run away. He turns around to find you with your arms crossed and an incredulous look.

“Why were you so mean to him?”

“Mean? What do you mean? Wasn’t he trying to hit on you?”

“What? No! He works here! He’s a staff member."

"But didn’t he have his phone out to get your number?”

“Get my..-you mean his Ipad? He wasn’t trying to get my number, he was asking for my email so he could send a survey for us to fill out on how satisfied we were with the staff and the place."

Atsumu had no answer, processing what he did to the innocent and diligent worker and to you. You must think he’s a crazy idiot for sure.

"As funny and adorable that was, you’re coming with me to apologize.” You grabbed his hand, dragging Atsumu to find the man who he wrongly yelled at.

“Yes..” He pouts, but obeys. You’re zipping through the crowd until you finally spot your target.

“He’s with someone else, but we’re waiting until he’s finished and I’m not letting go until you do."

"I-I wasn’t gonna run away.” His cheeks heat up at your clasped hands, avoiding your gaze.

“Just in case.” You continued to look forward, __(e/c) eyes too shy to meet his brown ones.

“Thank you though,” You break the short pause, “I know it was a misunderstanding, but it’s nice to know that someone has my back.”

Atsumu directs his head to you, but is unable to see your face since it’s turned away with your finger busying itself with a strand of your hair.

“Of course. Always.” Your heart skips at his soft reply. You feel a gentle squeeze on your hand and respond similarly, fighting back the smile that was eager to present itself.

“Oh look! He’s done. Let’s go.” You gently pull him towards the staff worker once he has finished speaking to the other customers. You’re about to release his hand, but Atsumu keeps a tight grip. Probably he’s nervous about admitting to his mistake, you assume.

So you hold his hand just as tight, figuring he needs the support. You knew how much of a big baby he was.

But really, Atsumu was using this as an excuse to hold you just a bit longer. His fingers felt right in between yours.

——-

You managed to take some great pictures wherever it was allowed, but the artwork that forbade photos, you captured in your memory. After touring around the entire museum, you and the boys were starting to feel hungry, so everyone agreed to eat at the nearest restaurant.

You saw a few people scattered outside and you volunteered to ask the host how long the wait would be. Osamu steps behind his brother and lightly taps the back of his knees with his.

“Remember, that guy works here."

"Shut up, 'samu! I know that.” Atsumu huffs, red cheeks puffing out slightly as his friends laugh loudly. They stop as soon as you near them, telling the boys that there was a table open that could accommodate your party.

You sat in between the Miya twins which made you both nervous and happy. Your crush on Atsumu was getting worse every day yet you didn’t hate the feeling. You distracted yourself by looking through the menu, all of you deciding to share a couple appetizers before choosing your individual meals.

“What are you getting, __(y/n)-chan?” Atsumu asks, brown eyes looking at you as he lowers his menu.

“Hmmmm, I’m not sure yet. I’m caught between number 8 and 9.” You point to the items on the main course list.

“Oh! I was going to get the number 8. How about I get 8 and you get the 9 and we can just share? That way, we can get a taste of both. I’m curious about number 9 also.”

“Really? You wouldn’t mind?"

"Yea, of course I wouldn’t mind!” He grins, folding the menu before placing it on the table. You copy him and wait for the server to collect your orders.

You then bring out your phone, taking pictures of the boys and the restaurant’s interesting decor. Despite your school’s motto, you liked to keep the memories.

“Ne, Atsumu-kun, mind if I borrow your phone? Your camera is better than mine.” Your cell phone was a few years old, but Atsumu just replaced his and you were waiting to upgrade yours. Part of you was glad that you hadn't yet because you were going to use this opportunity to see how he feels about you.

“Sure. Here ya go.” He hands you his phone.

“Thanks!” You start taking pictures of yourself, really impressed with the photo quality.

“Take a selfie with me.” You change the camera view as you hold out your hand in front of you and Atsumu.

“You’re so far! Get close to me like you actually like me.” You say jokingly as you hear a few, muffled snickers around the table. Atsumu stutters a response, but you interrupt him when you start counting from three.

“Ready? Smile!” You take a few shots before looking at each one closely.

“Yeck, I’m deleting that one. I look gross in there.” You weren’t satisfied with how you smiled and your eyes looked like they were in mid blink.

“What? Don’t say that. You’re gorgeous!” Atsumu looks up at you after he watches you remove one of the many pictures. You blush at his statement, dodging his stare.

“Oh, ummm. ..t-thank you."

"You don’t gotta thank me. It’s the truth.” Atsumu murmurs, but it’s coherent enough where you could understand him.

“Get ready with your orders. The waiter is coming.” Kita sees the server walking towards your table. You went first and while everyone else was focused on the waiter, you quickly dragged your finger around on the phone screen. You immediately closed what you were doing and handed Atsumu back his phone.

Your heart was beating fast, but you kept a calm smile on your face as you casually made conversation with the volleyball team. None of the guys knew about your crush, afraid that they would make fun of you. Not that you believed they would, but you weren’t comfortable telling anyone yet.

Except for today.

You finally were going to tell one person about your crush and that person was Atsumu. You planned everything out for a while, thinking of every possible situation that could happen and how you would approach it. You were surprised at how smoothly your idea was going, but that made you even more uneasy.

But you already made your move and hoped that he would notice the little message in his phone.

———

Dinner was both fun yet stressful. Every time Atsumu would check his phone, your heart would jump at the thought of him seeing what you put. But he made no reaction so you assumed he had yet to see it.

And you were fine with that. You’d prefer if he read it at home instead of in a public place.

Everyone went their separate ways after the restaurant except you and the Miya twins. Your house wasn’t too far from theirs so they walked most of the way with you. Once you were close enough, you waved goodbye to the brothers.

“Bye! See you soon! And don’t forget to send me those pictures later, okay, Atsumu-kun?"

"Yeah, I will! Bye, __(y/n)-chan!” Atsumu waved back before turning away with Osamu.

——–

Unfortunately, he never sent those pictures. He must have forgotten, but with how many days has passed, you believed he probably felt awkward with the little note you put.

If he saw it. He never acted any differently when you saw him at school.

Maybe he never did see it? But you were too afraid to ask so you were just going to live quietly with your heartache.

——-

“Oh, shoot! I forgot to send those pics to __(y/n)-chan!” Atsumu says loudly while he and Osamu walk home from practice.

“You haven’t sent them yet? It’s been a week.” Osamu shakes his head.

“I forgot! I was too busy thinking of a way to tell her I like her. I gotta make sure it’s perfect.” The setter takes out his phone and taps on the photo album icon. As he selects and scrolls through the photos, his eyes become rounded at one particular image.

It was a selfie of you and him, sitting close, cheek to cheek as you both smile happily. What made him pause was the heart drawn over the two of you with the words ’yes or no?’ written at the bottom.

“Ahh! ’s-samu! Look, look!” He shows his phone to his brother. “I think __(y/n)-chan likes me back! She put this on our picture!”

As soon as Osamu sees what’s on the screen, his eyes also widen slightly then suddenly smacks his brother at the back of his head. “Dumbass! That photo has been sitting there for that long already?”

“I told you already, I forgot! And she never said anything! Other than to send the pictures after we ate- Oh my God, 'samu, I really am a dumbass!” Realization hit Atsumu harder than his brother’s slap.

“I knew that a long time ago. Now, why are you still here talking to me? Shouldn’t you be talking to __(y/n) instead?"

"You’re right! I gotta text her!” Atsumu’s hands were working fast in trying to find your text message conversation. Before Osamu could even make a snide comment, Atsumu becomes aware of a better alternative to communicate with you.

———

On your way home, you received multiple texts from Atsumu, all saying the same thing.

Yes!

Yes!!

Yes!

Yes!!!!

’The hell? Yes to what?’ Right when you were about to reply, you saw an incoming call from the setter who made your heart skip a beat daily.

“Hello?” You answer.

“Yes! __(y/n), yes! I want to be your boyfriend!”

#haikyuu!!#haikyū!!#haikyuu #hq #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu drabbles #one shot #haikyuu one shot #hq oneshots #atsumu fluff #atsumu x reader #atsumu miya x reader #atsumu reader insert #atsumu x you #atsumu drabble #atsumu oneshot #atsumu imagines #submission

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aineryeo · 3 years

Text

Sweet Tea ௹ OSAMU

Sweet Hibiscus Tea — Better Twin. 🍵

SYNOPSIS: You are not a protagonist but your best friend definitely is. When will you ever be, sweet little side-character? » 6.2k Words

THEME: A li'l bit of a slow burn love story, angst, just a treat as my first fic in a year. | Bit of profanity, cussin', teen drama. And use of dialogue references!

NOTE: Low-key felt like this was crap, rip. I still love you so much ‘Samu :( I may have not written this the best

If you were to think of what your role in life was, you were sure you were a comic relief character, and your screen time was just cut short because the viewers in the show you call, “Life” are not giving you the best reviews. With the amount of times you felt like you were cycling through all your days the same, waking up… Waking.. Up.. Wake— Yeah, that was about it.

Everything else was an objective agenda. You were a sufficient klutz, whatever that paper was. You ponder, in your inner monologue while you’re tapping your push-pen on your school desk in Inarizaki.

“— And we’ll be designing our own living rooms as part of the Course Outline for Interior Studies in the general subject.”

You had a best friend, continuing to ignore the incessant babbles, you say as you write a little note to remind yourself to think of a living room design to finish the work quickly later. You had a best friend, who you can easily say is the main character of life. You swear, as she sat close to the window, and how she wasn’t mean, she was charming; it was so hard not to like her. But she’s also insecure, keeps to herself enough, having you by her side.

“Hear that ‘Samu?”

“What now, ‘Sumu?”

“Interior Designin’! Weren’t ya listenin’ ya scrub.” Bleach-blonde hair.“What about it?” Disinterest; Bleached hair too, but ash-grey.

“Ain’t Kori-Kori real good at stuff like this?”

You observed the two famed twins of Inarizaki High. Actually no, you were forced to; how? Well, you sat between them, not like that ever stopped anyone, nor did it ever interfere with your boring experience of being a 2nd mid-year Senior. You just wanted to get up, and leave, get a job or something; not going to lie.

“Is there anyone talking at the back right there? Anything the class would like to hear, pretty sure.” Professor said, which immediately shut the two up, the other was blatant and oblivious, even whistling.

“Guessed so.” Your professor went on right after.

Your chin was resting on the heel of your palm now, but you felt someone roughly, no really, they roughly tapped your shoulder, the touch was from a clearly heavy hand. It came from your right, which was…

“Hey missy, pass this on to my brother, will ‘ya?” He grinned widely, his other hand that held the pen used to write a note in the torn paper from his notebook that most likely didn’t have any notes despite it being mid-year. You let out a bit of a grunt, not moving from your position, but you did use your hand that was tapping your table to pass it on to the other Miya without sparing a glance.

“...”

Your arm was about to die.

You turned to the other Miya, a small frown on your face as he ignored your outstretched hand, his eyes were closed, arms crossed but he was definitely not sleeping, it was obvious enough. So you tried to aggressively wave your arm that held the letter while keeping an eye on the doting teacher upfront, trying not to be obvious. His brother had noticed that he was ignoring you as well, shrugging when your frown deepened, back straightening on your desk, your free hand now tapping on your table instead of being a rest for your head.

“Hey ‘Samu ‘ya jerk…!” Atsumu whispered, a volume tad higher, to his brother who proceeded to ignore him; and technically, you too.

You groaned and ignored the two, equally annoying twins that are involving you into a situation you don’t want to get involved in. So you just slammed, actually no, not slammed exactly but you did harshly place the torn paper that contained some unnamed letter from Atsumu directed to Osamu. Wistfully, this was noticed by your professor.

“Y/N. I believe it’s been made clear that passing notes is not allowed in my class, rather, on any occasion that involves other subjects as well.” They scolded.

You sucked a breath in between your teeth, your hand ran through your hair in an attempt to calm you down. “Switch seats with Yokori. This seating will last ‘till the end of the year, ‘lest you misbehave again. This applies to everyone else who has been swapped constantly.”

Yokori gave you a solemn smile, knowing you hated this, she gathered her belongings and quickly sat to avoid any more trouble; even opting to give you a pat on your shoulder on the way to her desk near the window, though not quite beside. One classmate separated you from being directly beside the scenery of school grounds that held the gym where your schools’ famous volleyball team resides for practices. Actually, this classmate was one of their players, Suna Rintaro? Your impression on him was that he was quiet… Enough, if not provoked or talked to at all, which you guessed was part of your luck. Because you were definitely not going to talk to him, less it required you to by any of your classes together.

So you sat, your professor continued, and your eyes landed on your best friend that sat on your previous seat, since your first year of middle school. Bored expression on once again, your thoughts dialed back, and you noticed a quick interaction from Atsumu towards your best friend who flushed slightly from the two’s attention, noticing that even the twin who ignored you earlier began perking up, just a little bit. And the feeling was slight but you felt a tinge of annoyance, proceeding to push it to the back of your mind, not letting the feelings against your best friend surface. Because she was good, and undeserving of it, obviously.

The bell rang, it was time for lunch!

Lunch is a happy time, because you can buy yourself chocolate, and you can, well, eat lunch. What else is there for? You were bored out of your mind at home after doing your homework, and studying enough for the day so you practiced cooking. Which you admit, was very enjoyable, especially when you finish. Today was tuna sushi rolls, seaweed-strapped spam meat, seasoned rice, and hot tamarind soup in your insulating tumbler. You didn’t notice light gray irisess eyeing you in your little daydream about your lunch for today.

“Y/N, you good?” Yokori, said best friend went next to you, who had just finished gathering your lunch bag. You nodded, smile small. “Yep, let’s go.”

The class dispersed quickly, you two walked side-by-side as she timidly told you a story about her situation earlier.

“So Atsumu-san was passing notes to his brother Osamu, right? T’was so weird because they kept asking me questions, but Atsumu-san was nice, he wanted help with that Interior Designing project we have going on.” She laughed, scratching her cheek. You nodded along to her story, she was used to your rather quiet demeanor, she knew you were still listening. “They said it’d be cool to attend their after-school volleyball practice.”

“Mmh. Really? They’re annoying though.” You humored her, to which she chuckled.

“I mean… It shouldn’t be bad to try it, right?” She said with a big grin, bright.

You jutted your lips forward as you bobbed your head in agreement, already taking your chopsticks and lunch out when you found a free table. “I guess so.” You said, mouth chewing on a roll.

You pour a portion of soup to get the food down your throat onto your tumbler’s cap that serves as the cup, and drank, “So I told them you’re coming with me, I’d be too nervous by myself… Hehe..” and spat.

“Kori, what?”

“Come with me…” She looked at you, nervously smiling with her eyebrows raised in mock questioning, “-please.”

“Okay.”

“I promise, I’ll ask you next ti— wait, really? Holy shit, Y/N, thank you! I’ll pay you back, for sure. I didn’t expect you to agree quickly, d’you have a crush on any of the VBC members, perhaps?” She teased.

You were eating continually, mouth full of rice as you pointed your metal chopsticks toward her. Speaking with your mouth full, “I don’t think there was any point trying to say no if I’d say yes in the end anyway. It already happened, what can I really do?”

She nodded in understanding, you were always like this, relaxed about what happened around. It was worth idolizing, at least. Your head felt like it was burning, the back, you mean. Was someone staring?

You were now sitting outside of the gym, deciding to hang around outside instead of watching sweaty boys play for hours. Kori became more relaxed, so you took the go-mark and asked to leave when you noticed that she was. The team was fond of her, you note, Shinsuke Kita the Captain even thanking her for thinking of buying them snacks and helping them around with their manager to fill up the boys’ water bottles. The team gave her attention and copied their captain in terms of providing gratification for her deeds. You heard her ‘lax conversation next to the banter with the twins that was a normal recurrence.

You were simply a drifting particle, a bystander.

Actually wait, you remembered that you had packed yourself a little snack in case you had to stay in school for some surprise activity you forgot about, or situations like this exactly. So you took out your little box of homemade onigiris, not noticing the figure looming at the door. It was their break, and you were about to bite.

“Hey, that yours?” You hear, stopping your bite mid-way, turning your head to see ash-grey.

“Huh.”

“Ya deaf or what, missy?” The nerve.

You looked at him, and bit on the prism-shaped rice, then looked forward once again, closing your eyes even. ‘Till you heard shuffling and a sleazy figure sitting next to yours. That was when you opened your eyes, mouth slightly agape. Osamu Miya, sat next to you, his legs spread, and his arms were holding his whole posture as his head faced yours.

“If yer gonna look at me like that, the least ya could do is gimme one, little miss.”

You shook your head and swallowed. “Stop calling me little miss, old man.”

“Hoho, old man?” He says, humoring you, you can smell his cologne from here, mixed with sweat from his practice. He leaned forward, his arms now intertwining, resting on his knees, he was facing you with a small smile.

“Yeah, I’d call you shit hair but your hair ain’t the color.” You shrugged, but it was the type of shrug where you slightly move your hands outward. So when you did, the hand that held your bitten snack was when the big fox ate his fill. “Mm, tastes good.”

“Fucki-” You screeched. His eyes went wide when you just shoved the onigiri in his mouth, “It has your germs now, better not choke, gran’pa.”

Osamu was trying to give you a snide reply back but he couldn’t, with the rice stuck in, he just kept chewing. As you stood up and yelled to Kori that you were leaving. You were a side character, nothing more, you thought; as you walked away from the boy who had tried reaching to you, but you failed to notice.

“So… He invited me to their house to hang out.” Yokori said happily on the phone, you were trying to sketch a few designs you felt like doing so hummed, already quite satisfied, spinning on your chair right after. “So…”

“No.”

“But I haven’t said anything yet!”

“You were about to ask me if I can come with you because you’re nervous to go alone, the usual, hm?”

“...”

“Hm?”

“...Yes.”

“No.”

“Please?”

“N-”

“I’ll order you takeout pizza!”

“...Okay.”

You heard her cheering yes! On the other line, to which you just slumped in your chair to. And so, the day came and you were right behind Kori, who was knocking on the Miya residence as of the moment. The one who greeted the both of you was Osamu Miya, you internally groaned, their parents were off, you heard.

“Tsumu!” Your best friend smiles, greeting the other twin brightly; and smiling so wide at the twin at the door. “Hello ‘Samu!” She said, before the blonde had pushed past the door to beam at her.

“Brought your li’l friend along, cutie?” Atsumu jokes, rustling your friend’s hair before beckoning the two of you to come in. You walk past Osamu who you had mild grudges with. Your friend turned to you, “I’ll be helping Atsumu with some plates for the project, we’ll be up in his room!” She said, innocently.

“Mmh, okay. I’ll stay here?” You asked, more to yourself, you didn’t really know where to stay. This wasn’t your place.

“Accommodate the guest ‘Samu, I need’a do important school stuff.” Atsumu waved off as the two walked up the stairs on the way to the boy’s room, pretty sure. You stood there in the middle for a couple minutes, unsure. The renowned ‘less annoying’ Miya was sitting on one of their kitchen stools, his cheek digging into his palm, just staring at you. You stared back. He stared back. You were both staring.

You broke. “Not gonna let me sit, or anything?”

“Sit anywhere or something.” He droned, still looking at you. He was enjoying it.

So you looked at the couch beside you, then spared a glance at him, about to sit until he spoke again, “Hmm, not there.” He said in his low voice that contained an underline of mockery, you were sure. Though to him, it was simply amusing, to watch you that is. If anyone outside the two of your observing based gazes, he was actually sporting a noticeable smile. A small triangle smile, as if he was shy to make it any bigger, in hopes of hiding something.

You tried the two other chairs, the floor, leaning on a wall, but it was all a reject. You were embarrassed every time. Did you really have to go through all this just to get takeout pizza? You’d have to ask more later, that's for sure. So you tried for a last option, there was a tall stool right beside his, and well, three others far from him. So you tried the farthest tall stool from him, which was the far left. He shook his head no, you furrowed your eyebrows, you moved to the second stool, still no? Every move made your head wrinkle further down ‘till you reached the last seat, right next to him. To which he finally said, “Got it, pretty girl.” with a big boyish grin.

You didn’t have time to react to the nickname before finally letting out a sigh as you stretched your arms, and legs before laying your head on your arms that were resting on the table in front. That whole interaction probably took at least half an hour, you didn’t really know, you didn’t have a watch. “Pretty, my ass.”

He hummed, resting his head on his arms as well, though he was facing you. “Yer ass is.”

“The fuck.”

“Ya got a bad mouth.”

You groaned, and buried your face in your arms. Wanting to escape this. But you were lying to yourself if you said that you didn’t subconsciously enjoy his attention. You weren’t used to it, you weren’t supposed to feel this, right? It wasn’t, it just, it’s not you. Right? You shook your head to which the boy watched you do, getting your head up, posture straight and looking at him. He looked back, like he always seems to do.

“What do you want from me?” You say.

Osamu kept his mouth shut, still looking into you, thinking of what to say. Unwilling himself to tell you what he’d rather. So he asked a question, “D’ya cook?”

“Yeah, I make my own lunch and snacks.” You said, wary. Already feeling suspicious, you raise both your brows.

“Let’s cook.” He suggests.

Here’s the thing, you can’t do anything right if someone’s watching you too intently. It feels awkward, who in their right mind is able to do this right when he’s gripping your wrist that was stirring the batter for what the both of you decided to make, muffins.

“Ya gotta put in the right amount of strength.” He instructed.

“I’m starting to regret mentioning that I don’t bake often.” You thought, you thought you just thought that it was only in your thoughts. Oh no, you were becoming redundant, was it always this hot?

“Yer burnin’ figuratively, and literally. By that, your eyeballs are wide as fuck.” Osamu pointed out, he was biting his lip, to keep from a wide smile. “Tryna bake with yer hot gaze?”

What? “Huh.”

Now Osamu had wide eyes, I think it came off more sultry than intended. So he moved away from you as if you were burning his skin, though technically, you really were. Playing it cool. “What?”

“My what.”

“Yer… What?”

You were staring at him with a confused expression, about to open your mouth when, “Hey scrub! Make me a snack, I’m starvin’ over here.” Atsumu yelled from the room, you heard Kori’s small laugh and a faint, “Don’t be so mean, ‘Tsum.”

“Right. Let’s put ‘em in the tray then straight to the oven, yeah?” Osamu started, standing next to you, his face was not quite visible due to his wide shoulders, if you knew better, he might be obstructing your vision to not see the steaming heat from his ears. Spoiler, you did. But you chose not to poke at a sleeping bear.

“You sick? Got red ears?” You poked at a sleeping bear.

Actually, you were expecting a snark reply, it was easier that way. Just be sarcastic back. It was when the both of you were done, and placed the tray containing the muffin batter in the oven to bake, did Osamu dip his index finger in the bowl of slightly empty batter, facing you, and licking it off his finger. You really tried, you did; you tried not to look at the way he did that so unabashed. Dipping the same finger on the last remaining batter before menacingly leaning closer to you, inches from your face. If you could measure it exactly, 2.8 inches? So close.

Your weight moved from the heel of your foot to the front, again and again, what was he doing?

“What are you—?” You began before you got cut off by his finger wiping the batter on your lips, it made it look like you had a mustache. You stood there surprised for a few seconds, not knowing how to react, and hated how you expected something so different. It was until you heard a click of a camera and a low chuckle vibrate from the boy in front of you that you took the few remaining flour that was right in your reach to throw it in front of his face, making a huge fog of flour. He coughed for a bit, his eyes were glistening as he took the bowl next to him, using his whole hand to wipe leftover batter, getting ready to chase you.

You noticed. So you ran, but not without screaming, the leftover flour bag in your hand.

“No, please,”

“You asked for it, pretty girl.” He replied breathily, both of you were circling the kitchen island.

It took a good ten minutes before he decided to jump the island, and ran to quickly get hold of you with both of his arms, his hair tickling the side of your neck which made you laugh too hard, flour was all over his hair and apron, you failed to notice the handprint of batter right on your chest because you were struggling so hard to get off his grip. He was laughing too, you put on your scowling face, though not really mad, to face him, who in turn faced you as well. You didn’t notice the distance between the two of you was nearly non-existent; I repeat, nearly.

“Hey ‘Samu! I’m starvin’ and I smell yer bakin way over in my room.” You heard quick footsteps down the stairs, which made you jump in your skin. But even with that speed, you were still caught. Because Atsumu had an unreadable expression, “This place is a mess! Did we interrupt too early, hm?” Kori taking a peek right behind Atsumu.

You heard a dry cough from the other twin, facing the other direction, you facing the other as well. None of you spoke in time, so you took it. “No, uh, we weren’t, nothing was happening.”

“The scene of the crime is proof!” Atsumu pushed, teasing, as he continued his way down next to Kori.

“Shut it ‘ya scrub.”

“Yer the scrub, scrub.” They started bickering, real easy like that, trying to beat each other up. You noticed Kori walking down the stairs as well, first with an expression you couldn’t quite place, as if she was thinking deeply. But when she noticed you looking, she quickly changed into a bright smile, even sporting a blush, ready to tell a story about what happened behind the closed doors of Atsumu’s bedroom.

The day ended quickly after that, Osamu forced Atsumu to help the both of you to clean the kitchen while Kori volunteered to. It continued on like that, Kori dragging you into one of her meetings with Atsumu, you complaining but coming anyway, and you end up stuck with Osamu as she goes to her rendezvous with Atsumu that at this point, you have no idea what they’re doing. You just tag along.

Right now, you were beside Osamu in the gym during their break from training. Near the door, his teammates a good few distance away as he sat on a bench with his usual posture. Slumped back, his arms arching, one behind you that you fail to think of anything. Just as a general position. You were voicing out a thought you had in a while, seriously.

“So I was balls deep into ghosts way back—”

He looked at you, disgusted. “GROSS,” Shoving you lightly, “God, please never, ever say ‘balls deep in ghosts’ to anyone ever again. I feel like washin’ my mouth having to repeat that.” He even added this mild shudder that was just an exaggeration.

“What? What’s wrong with it?”

“I don’t really want to think about anyone having sex with a ghost.”

“Huh, who said anything about ghost sex?”

“You did, Y/N! Just now!”

“I didn’t—Oh, holy shit. No. Oh no.”

“What?”

“Does ‘balls deep’ not mean you’re standing in, like, the shallow end of the pool, metaphorically. Like up to your balls or something.”

“No! Balls deep is—It’s…”

“Balls deep is…”

“Why are you two talking about balls?” Suna interjected, acting as if he was just hearing about your conversation now. He was actually listening since the start, noticing the short distance between the both of you, interest hiding behind his eyes. “Balls, as in, dick or something? That’s wild.”

“Suna, no!” You screeched.

Osamu was biting back a laugh. The team was watching the three of you converse, getting used to the sight of you with their teammate. Assuming other things up the clouds. Atsumu was watching his brother with hawk eyes, and so was the girl next to him, Kori, though she was looking at you. If Suna was being honest, he didn’t notice any form of chemistry between your friend and the piss haired twin. They were all smiles and bright, but they always looked like they were thinking of something different. Though he doesn’t know anything about it.

Practice ended. It’s been months, and your interactions with Osamu have gotten more laxed. Your thoughts about being nothing more than a side-character was starting to change, because with him, you felt that you were a number one choice. You felt that you were a main character. Osamu felt the same, being with you felt like time was moving too fast and he wanted to spend it more with you, he was becoming insatiable. With you, he didn’t feel second to his brother for once. Lingering touches, his hand forgetting to unhook from yours, and his arm slinking around your shoulders as he yawns and asks for one of your homemade snacks as he starts to make some after-school snacks to give back to you.

You were invading his mind as much as he was invading yours. Sitting next to you during lunch, asking what’s in your bento, vice versa. Why was everything sailing so smooth? It was like it was just him and you. You heard rumors from the Miya fans that they were thinking you were Osamu Miya’s girlfriend. Forgetting your inferiority, sometimes the universe was just cruel, so it had to humble you.

“Atsumu and I broke up.” Kori sobbed.

Not to you, but to Osamu. You gripped your bag’s strap tightly. You peeled your lip with your teeth until the middle bled, so you sucked in the pain. No, you were not the protagonist. You weren’t, you never will be, and you never are in the past, present, and future. So you sucked in a breath to collect yourself, seeing Osamu pat the girl to attempt and comfort her, badmouthing his brother. “Sorry,” Her first gripped his shirt tighter.

“Osamu, please. It’s—I always liked you. It was just you.”

She wasn’t a bad person. She wasn’t, but why? You wanted to hit her, that, or jump off a building and die. None of them noticed you yet, at least that’s what you thought, but the sobbing girl had already seen you before she started bawling, and the other twin was forced to give her a tight, but awkward hug.

“Yokori… I liked you.”

You were about to walk to them normally after licking your lips from the blood, wanting to appear as a third party, to not let this happen. It just can’t. but you were pulled back by your collar. Who—

“Atsumu?”

He put his index finger in front of his lips to silence you, “Shh.”

So you followed him confused, he held your hand away from the scene. Leading you to the gates, the school half-empty, their practice about to start in half an hour or so. “Atsumu, why?” You croaked.

He had his eyes widened a bit, why? Actually, why did he pull you from that scene? His other hand that didn’t hold yours, which you didn’t bother to remove with the energy seeping out of your body quickly; it was taking everything in you not to break down. It went to his nape, rubbing it in question to himself, why? It was just that, seeing you staring at a scene when he knew you liked his brother, at a scene too painful, for a best friend who was just trying to do their paper, he knew. So his arms safely wrapped around you as you stared dead into his eyes, looking at his features that resembled the other who had unknowingly captured your heart.

Your bleeding lip trembled, your eyes turned glossy of the tears held back, Atsumu looked at you, empathetic. He broke up with your best friend because he couldn’t see it happen, every time he saw you with his brother, that wasn’t what they both had. They were simply not meant to be, and he was fine, he just didn’t know, but he was glad that because of it, he found out that she liked his brother more than she did him. He’d be angry, he should be, for his sake, but he wasn’t angry for him, he was angry for you.

He hid your face into his chest instead. You didn’t sob, solely because you thought you didn’t deserve to. But you cried, you let your tears soak in, “You look like him too much.”

“Shhh, I know—” Sigh. “It’s okay. You don’t have to look at me.” He said, trying his best to comfort you, caressing your hair. As a pair of grey eyes watched the scene from a distance, unable to hear, but able to see. Maybe he saw too much as he grimaced.

Osamu tried his best not to punch his brother right in the jaw, or push him away so he could yell everything he’d kept cooped up inside before you came running along, turning monochrome into a saturated-vision of the world. His teeth were pressing down on each other hard enough, he thought it might break, and shatter, just like his heart did. Of course, you chose his brother. Everyone always does. Every time he thinks he’s got it all, it’s all swiped underneath by his twin. Everyone says that it wasn’t their talents, or skills in volleyball that was the greatest gift they had ever received in life. It was their twin. But right now, he just thinks he was a curse he had to always deal with.

He jolted as he felt a hand on his shoulder. It was Suna.

“Practice. Kita’s calling. Call your brother.” The ever-observant boy runs over as he scans the scene, and hisses as he sees you wrapped in his brother’s arms. Though he knew more than that, he had first-class seats to this theatrical after all. But he’d rather not be part of the act club, it wasn’t his forte.

“Yeah, yeah. Okay.” Osamu replied, briefly. A bit tense, still.

He looked back to Atsumu who had let you go, and you who were walking away already. On the way to your home, he was sure. But he can’t help but cringe, thinking of it as your way of walking away from him.

“Practice! ‘Sumu!” He yelled, devoid of anything.

You jolted, you were a bit far but he yelled really loud you could still hear it. This didn’t go unnoticed by him, but you were both overcome by swirling emotions that stopped both of you to do the bare minimum, smile and wave, no after-school snacks. Atsumu jogged towards them, not noticing his brother’s attempt at hiding his huge frown. Practice was hell for Osamu, he didn’t want to see his brother right now, not when he still thinks of your precious little form hugging his brother’s, not his.

When his brother accidentally served a ball hitting Osamu behind the head, it was more of a switch for his anger; his rage.

“Fucking hell.” He said, turning viciously towards his brother who was uttering lighthearted apologies. It wasn’t until he started stalking towards Atsumu did the team start watching them like hawks, Aran thinking it’s just another one of their silly fights. But that thought was cut off when Osamu suddenly launched a fist towards Atsumu. “Ya just get off on this, huh? Ya get off on giving me bullshit every time.”

“Woah, ‘Samu I said I was sorry. What the fuck.” Atsumu said, brows furrowed, voice starting to get scratchy at his brother’s tight grip on the collar of his shirt. His hand quickly gripped his brother’s wrist tied to his shirt, attempting to get it off him, starting to get riled up from getting hit out of nowhere. “What’s your fuckin’ problem?” He said, about to kick his brother off of him.

“You. You just took everything from me, ‘Sumu. You took them.”

Osamu breathed heavily as Kita instructed the team to peel the twins away from each other as this wasn’t one of their silly fights at all. It held other issues. The captain knew that practice wouldn’t be able to continue like this, so he made them do drills before allowing them to go home. Looking pointedly at the Miya’s. The two brothers did what they were told to, going off to do their drills, and getting ready to go home.

They were walking silently side-by-side, both faces covered with a frown, Atsumu’s face having a bruise by the jaw whilst Samu didn’t have a scratch, only because Atsumu was realizing where it all came from.

“Did ya see?”

“Fuck you.”

“Look— It’s not what ya think, ya idiot.” Atsumu started, Osamu raised his brow at his brother. “I don’t want to say anything. Figure things out yourself, scrub.” Then the blonde started walking faster, leaving his brother behind to ponder.

The next day came by, he tried calling you but it never got through. Did you block him? What did he do? Did you really get repulsed by him to avoid him to that extent? That involved his texts getting left unanswered. You didn’t come to school today, he asked Kori, who he had rejected yesterday, and who was supposed to know about you more than he did. Though he was aware that you often felt inferior to her, as he told you the same about his brother, it was a feeling that you two were all too familiar with.

“I don’t know where she is, I’m sorry. She’s not talking to me either.”

Osamu stayed quiet at that, he thought you just needed time. So he let it go, looking forward to talking to you the following days. But that was the problem, you weren’t there in the following days either. He knew where you lived but he didn’t want to impose as your family didn’t know him very well yet either. He stopped himself from visiting until it hit the second week of your absence. Where were you? Why have you disappeared as if you never existed in the first place? He was growing worried, he wanted you to exist. He loved existing when you were around. And he wanted to clear everything up after getting multiple clues from Suna, and his brother, obviously.

It was until the class of the second week you were gone, when Osamu promised to visit your house after school, did their teacher tell them news that tore Osamu in half.

“One of our students Y/N L/N has transferred schools. The administration just finished filing her transfer after her visit yesterday, she didn’t get to say goodbye as her family moved out the same day. That’s about it, the first class is Physics. Have a nice day ahead, students.”

His ears were ringing. You were gone. Gone like the liquid that slipped past his hold. Atsumu looked at his brother in pity, knowing how much he had lost at that time. And he’d be lying if he said he didn’t hear Osamu crying in the shower when they got home. Or when he tried to not get his snot on his pillows, sniffling in the night. His heart ached for his brother.

It’s been years since 2nd year in High School, and Osamu has just opened up Onigiri Miya. His brother had gone pro on Volleyball, and he couldn’t be more proud. He still finds himself thinking back to a few months of pure bliss in highschool, and he tried dating a fair share as well, in hopes that he’ll get what he had with you. He didn’t. So he dedicated himself to his work, and his passion: cooking. A few more years and his business was a success, to which was hell for the first few months, having no investors, and all. He was wiping down his counter, black cap on, his hair not having the same old bleached-grey hair. Instead, it was back to his natural dark hair.

“What is this place, really?”

“The name reminds me of someone from my highschool days. But I only heard about it now, is it really good?”

“Yeah, totally! We should bring our superiors here, and see if we get a few favors, hmm? The onigiri here is a star-choice.” Osamu sees someone turned around, laughing prettily, smiling all-wide, they were bright. Until the same eyes he used to look at in such a close distance, caught his own. His heart skipped two beats, or maybe skipped beating this whole time, maybe he died because god, did he finally send his angel back to him?

It was when you uttered his name under your breath, from the entrance that rang the bell prior to the conversation he overheard earlier did he confirm it. “Hey pretty girl,” he says, as he takes off his cap, ruffles his hair, chuckling deeply, and looking directly back at you; your heart spasms. “Where have you been?”

Bonus:

“Yeah, he was a real bitch when I first talked to him in high school.” You badmouthed him loudly from your table, which made him yell from the kitchen, “I was trying to see if you’ll take my hand and put the note there, okay!” Laughing, you didn’t notice him stalking behind you until he placed a kiss on your cheek. “Grumpy-ass.”

Living with 'Samu! ⁆ End Credits

#miya osamu #Miya #Osamu #Haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #Haikyuu!!#Inarizaki #miya atsumu #Atsumu #Osamu x Reader #Osamu x you #suna rintarou #Slow burn #Angst

96 notes · View notes

kj-1130 · 3 years

Text

Surprise

Uswnt x Reader

Binoe x teen!reader

⚠️t/w a perverted boy touching a minor. ya nasty⚠️

Main Masterlist

It was time for another camp. All the ladies had gathered in the conference room, where a meeting was being held. Everyone was seated and chatting until Vlatko called for their attention.

The meeting was going smooth until it was interrupted by the ringing of a phone.

“Sorry.” Pinoe steps out of the room and looks at the number. It was unknown, but a feeling told her to answer it.

Vlatko continued the meeting despite her absence but didn’t get very far when yelling was heard just outisde.

“What do you mean you’re at the police station!?

You were outside playing basketball at a court that wasn’t too far from the hotel. Your moms trusted that you were responsible enough to take care of yourself and call if you need help.

You were currently dribbling the ball just working on free throws when a group of five guys came over. They looked like they were about 18. You had been on the court by yourself all day so someone coming over somewhat distracted you.

“Ooh! Would you look at that, boys? A hot girl shooting some hoops!”

You rolled your eyes and minded your business, hoping they would get the hint and leave you alone. But that wasn’t the case.

“C’mon sweetheart, don’t ignore us.”

You looked over your shoulders, then at them. “I’m 14.”

One of the guys in the back came next to and started sliding his hand down your back to your ass. “Age ain’t nothing but a number.”

In response, you grabbed his hand, turned around and kneed him in the nuts.

An officer came over when he saw violence and you were almost relieved, but he was walking towards you.

A different person in the group spoke up. “Thank god you were here, officer. We were just trying to help this girl with her shooting but she just started getting violent.”

You scoffed as the officer started to lead you to his car and drove you to the station.

“If you’re going to take me to the station, when do I get my phone call?”

He rolled his eyes and ignored you for the rest of the ride.

Man your parents were going to be pissed.

You were sitting at the station when you saw Megan storm in. Despite the fact that she was quite short, it was still a scary sight to you.

“Come on.”

You got up and followed her to the car, trying your hardest to keep up with her cause damn she was walking fast. Turns out she was so pissed, she didn’t even bring a car. Just ran straight towards the station. Hopefully the walk to the hotel wasn’t too long.

She was silent the entire way. Megan didn’t ask what happened or anything, but frankly you were grateful for the awkward silence. Being scolded by a famous soccer player in public did not seem ideal to you at all.

The walk back was no more than 15 minutes, but it felt longer to you. The team was still in the conference room, having the meeting.

Your mom stopped abruptly, which scared you, and turned around. “Do you want to tell me why you were in the police station? Why did I get a call saying you were arrested?!”

Your eyes widened and you took a step back, just wanting a hole to open in the ground and swallow you.

You clear your throat and look anywhere but at her.You were absolutely positive that all her teammates had heard her yell and probably would be as nosy as your mom described them. Your theory was confirmed when you saw heads peek out the door, but disappeared as soon as you caught the eyes with your gaze.

“I asked you a question, I expect you to answer it!”

Eyes widening once again, you took a deep breath trying to calm down.

“Look, I was just defending myself.”

“From what?”

Oh goodness gracious, you were embarrassed; you didn't even know why. You know what? Fuck. You just did what you do best; be blunt.

“A guy touched my ass so I kicked his dick.”

There was that awkward silence you were looking for. If you’re embarrassed then everyone else has to be too. You cleared your throat and rocked back and forth. The only sound that filled the hotel lobby was your horrible whistling and the rattling air condition.

“Who touched you?”

“I don’t know. Some blonde kid probably named Chad.”

It was quiet until someone let out an obnoxious snort. Looking over at the conference room, Megan saw it was Kelley. Then she saw that all of her teammates were watching the whole situation unfold.

She sighed and ran a hand down face. “I need to call Sue.”

“No! No, no, no, no, no. Don’t call mom! Don’t call mom.”

The team’s eyes widen as they hear the m-word come out of your mouth.

“Mom?!”

Everyone was gathered into Megan and Kelley’s room(whoever roomed them together must’ve been crazy).

It was silent which was quite weird considering they were usually so loud and energetic.

“Your room’s a hot mess,” you said which broke the silence. “Mom would kill you if she was here.”

Your mama rolled her eyes playfully at you and scoffed. “You’re lucky I’m not calling her right now. Don’t push your luck.” Yeah that shut you up real quick.

Mal looked at Megan and cleared her throat. “So...mom?”

She sighed and began to talk. “We adopted (y/n) after fostering her for quite a few months.”

Alex looked at you then at your mama. “Were you ever going to tell anyone?”

She shrugged, “That’s not important right now. What is important, is that somebody touched my daughter and now they need their ass whooped.”

With her mentioning that, all eyes were on you.

“Look, I kicked him in his nuts pretty hard. He may not be able to have children anymore. I consider his pain punishment enough for now. But if you think about it, I'm doing his future wife a favor. I’m pretty sure nobody wants a smaller version of him running around.”

The whole team chuckled. Everyone got to know you and they seemed nice.

Megan’s phone pinged and this time her eyes widened. “Sue texted. How did she find out.”

You shrugged. “Mother’s intuition?”

This time your phone dinged and you saw it was your mom. “Oh. Both our asses are dead.”

#uswnt #uswnt imagines #uswnt x reader #uswnt imagine #woso imagines #woso imagine #binoe #binoe x teen!reader #teen!reader #megan rapinoe #sue bird

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jayeray-hq · 3 years

Text

How He Shows You Affection: Miya Osamu

Hey guys, this one also really hurts to re-post, but I’m really hopeful that since the Kuroo one did so well, this one will too. It was my first request and from the amazing rice-hime too, which is probably the only reason it did so well, so big shout out to her for being amazing! Notes: 84

If you want to know why I’m re-posting check here

Post Time Skip/Manga Ending Spoilers!

Warnings: None all fluff!

How He Shows You Affection Masterlist - Character Masterlist

He Makes Time for You

You waited patiently at your table, quietly sipping your drink as you waited for the store to close. It was date night, so you’d dressed up in one of your cutest outfits and while you could’ve waited patiently at home for Osamu to come get you you’d decided to surprise him at work instead. The way his whole face had lit up when he spotted you and the appreciative look in his eyes as he spotted what you were wearing made it more than worth it.

You didn’t get to talk to him for long, the restaurant was too busy for that, only managing to exchange quick greetings, and affectionate brush of the hands before he was forced to move on to the next customer but it was more than enough to tide you over. After all in just a short while you’d be able to have him all to yourself, so it was more than enough.

More than one patron had wondered why Onigiri Miya closed early on Tuesdays. It was a strange day for such a thing after all. Most people thought it was a restocking thing, or a cleaning day, only those closest to you knew it was because your boyfriend had decided early on when he’d started his business that no matter how busy he got he was always going to set aside one evening a week that he could devote wholly to you. Thus the shop closed at four o’clock on Tuesdays and anyone who wanted to have their Onigiri had to come early or miss out.

He’d had more than a few complaints about it too, but he’d never cared about that at all, waving them off and telling anyone who complained that it was their own fault if they missed out. After all the store was open regular hours all the other days of the week, and even stayed open late on Fridays and Saturdays, so there was no point in whining about one day.

Once you’d tried to suggest that it might be okay if he didn’t, that you would be okay with him putting his restaurant first, as you knew it was his dream job, but he’d been very quick to shut that down. He’d insisted that yes, the restaurant was his dream, but you were part of his dream too, and part of his future and having time with you, just for you was important to him. You hadn’t been able to argue with him after that, and just gratefully accepted what he’d offered your heart full to the bursting for the incredibly man who had somehow fallen in love with you.

A few years in and most of the patrons were used to the Tuesday closures, and knew to come early, but there was still the occasional late comer, who refused to be budged, and it seemed tonight was one of those nights. He’d come in at four on the dot, pushing his way through the door and nearly knocking over the poor employee who’d been trying to shut and lock it, the open sign already flipped to closed, and hadn’t even apologized. Instead he’d marched right up to the counter and rattled off his order right into your boyfriend’s extremely unimpressed face.

“We’re closed,” Osamu informed the clearly self-important business man in a bored drawl. “The door says you close at four!” the man blustered clearly angry.

“And by my count it’s now exactly,” he paused for a minute to check the watch you’d given him for your last anniversary that he wore faithfully every day, “4:01 sir, which means we’re closed.”

“Well that’s a ridiculous hour to close anyway,” he informed your boyfriend flushed but not backing down, “Not even dinner time! Besides I came all the way here, the least you can do is give me my meal. I’m a paying customer.”

“We’re closed,” Osamu repeated slowly for the man as if he were a petulant toddler than needed things explained very slowly and in small words, his tone making you hide a smile behind your drink, “That means everythin’ is turned off, and we’re all packin’ up to leave. I couldn’t make yer order even if I wanted to.” “Well then what is she doing here huh?” the man demanded pointing an accusing finger in your direction, startling you enough you nearly spilled your drink, “I demand to be served too!”

“She ain’t a customer,” your boyfriend informed the man, a clearly warning edge to his voice, “That’s my girlfriend, and she’s waitin’ there fer me ta be finished so if ya could please vacate the premises so we can get goin’ I’d appreciate it.” “How unprofessional,” the man scoffed derisively, “Having your girlfriend here. I demand to speak to your manager.”

“Yer lookin’ at the manager,” Osamu countered with a bored sigh, “And he’s tellin’ you to please leave so we can close.”

The man blustered a bit more, but in the end he did concede, stomping out of the door and shouting how he was going to be in contact with the owner, and would be leaving a very poor review, which made you frown turning to look at your boyfriend in concern, though as per usual with him he looked completely unruffled by the whole thing.

“’Spose it’s a bit too late to tell him I’m the owner too huh?” he asked when he saw you looking at him, his mouth curling into a smile.

“Is it really okay?” you asked hesitantly, “I could’ve waited a little longer for you to make his food. I wouldn’t have minded.”

“Well I woulda minded,” he countered casually pulling his hat off and ruffling a hand through his dark hair, making it fall across his forehead rather appealingly, “Sides, even if I wanted too, everythin’s pretty much put away anyway. I wouldn’t have had the ingredients.”

“But what if he does leave a bad review?” you asked with a frown, concerned for his business.

“It’s just one review sweets,” he assured you, “An if he does I’ll be sure to respond to it, if it’ll make ya feel better and explain the situation, though I don’t think it’ll matter much.”

“Alright,” you agreed, feeling a bit better at his reassurance, “If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure,” he told you firmly, “Besides I wouldn’t have wanted to keep my favorite girl waitin’ any longer than she has ta be, just let me wipe everythin’ down, do one final check and get changed and we can get goin’ on our date.”

“Let me help,” you told him, quickly finishing your drink and tossing the disposable cup away moving toward the counter to grab one of the rags he kept there to help wipe down the tables.

“Ya don’t have ta sweets, me n the rest can handle it,” he told you grabbing hold of the other end of the rag to hold you in place.

“I know,” you told him with a smile, giving a quick glance around the shop to ensure no one could see before leaning over the counter to give him a light peck on the lips and explaining, “But we’ll finish faster if I help, and the sooner we finish the sooner I get you all to myself.”

“Alright,” he agreed a playful smile on his lips, and a soft look on his face that he only ever shared with you, “Have it your way then.”

“I will,” you told him with a grin, before bouncing off to do as you’d said you would a cheerful spring in your step as you contemplated how very lucky you were to have your man who loved you enough to set aside the time for you even if it meant dealing with angry customers just to spend a little extra time with you.

He Tugs at Your Ear

You stared out the window contemplatively watching the rain hit the glass. It was kind of a dreary day today and while you could sometimes enjoy the rain today it was making you feel a bit out of it. Frankly you had a lot to get done, but you couldn’t seem to drum up the motivation to do it.

You were so spaced out you didn’t even notice your boyfriend sliding a plate of food in front of you, and gently nudging your laptop away too distracted by watching the path the raindrops carved down the shop window. You probably would’ve continued with your daze, not even noticing the delicious smelling food just waiting to be consumed if not for the gentle tug at your ear.

The touch was a familiar one but even so you jerked slightly in surprise, your eyes turning to your boyfriend who had the lobe of your ear caught gently between his thumb and forefinger. It was a gesture he used a lot when he wanted to get your attention, a leftover remnant from his childhood with his twin, where Osamu would be forced to grab hold of him somehow to get him to shut up and pay attention.

Though you had to admit he was a lot sweeter with you than he was with Atsumu, probably because unlike his brother he had no particular desire to cause you pain when he was trying to catch your attention. He never twisted or yanked, just gently tugged on you, a disparity the blonde twin had noticed and liked to complain about loudly to anyone who would listen.

It was a rather sweet gesture honestly and an intimate touch you’d gotten used to after dating him for so long, even if it did still make you jump a bit from time to time, when he startled you, like he had just then.

“Looks like yer thinkin’ some pretty hefty thoughts there sweets,” he pointed out, his voice gentle with concern as he released your ear to gently cup your jaw running his thumb affectionately over your cheekbone, “Somethin’ botherin’ ya?”

“Nothing in particular,” you admitted with a wry smile, “Just feeling a little down I guess.”

“Well maybe this will cheer ya up,” he urged, nudging the plate of onigiri toward you, “Or at the very least fill yer belly.”

You couldn’t help the slight smile that crept over your face as you looked at the food he’d brought you. He’d shaped them into cute little pandas, no doubt especially for you and you didn’t doubt they were full of your favorite flavored fillings too.

Honestly you were pretty sure Osamu thought food was the answer for everything, and in some cases he was right, but this time just the gentle tug of his fingers on your ear had already lifted your mood a bit. The gesture more than enough to remind you just how much he cared about you.

He Cooks for You

The sound of your alarm woke you from a deep sleep, and you groaned quietly to yourself. It was morning again, and you really didn’t want to get up, but you had to work, so you slowly forced yourself to sit up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes and heaving a tired sigh.

You couldn’t help the sad glance you cast at the other side of the bed, which was already empty, the sheets cold, the owner gone a long time ago, no doubt already hard at work at his store. These days you didn’t get to wake up with Osamu in your arms or him in yours very often the way you had when you were in college. Not when he had a store to run, food prep to do, and employees to supervise.

You understood even if it did suck somedays to not find him beside you when you woke. Especially the mornings when you woke up and would’ve given almost anything to hold and be held by him just for a little while. Still needs must, and you were sure if you asked he’d be more than happy to cuddle you all evening if you asked it of him. He was incredibly accommodating that way.

With a tired sigh you pulled yourself from the bed and got ready for the day, doing your morning ablutions, picking out the clothes you’d need to wear, and trudging to the kitchen. You yawned as you glanced blearily around the room only to have the whiteboard on the fridge catch your eye.

You and Osamu had agreed to get the thing so the two of you could let one another know if you ran out of things and start a grocery list, since your boyfriend got a little cranky sometimes when he didn’t have the ingredients he needed. However you also used it to pass notes to one another, and it seemed he’d left one for you.

His handwriting was fairly neat though judging from the way it was a little sloppier than usual he’d either been in a hurry or too tired to really concentrate on what he was doing when he wrote it. However, you couldn’t help the fond smile that touched your lips when you read it.

Mornin’ Sweets,

Made yer favorite fer ya. It’s in the oven. Don’t forget to turn it off when ya take it out. Have a good day. Love ya.

-Samu

Curious you turned to the oven, which was indeed on, though set at a very low temperature, just enough to keep the food inside warm without cooking it further. You followed his instruction and turned the oven off before pulling the foil covered plate out, peeling the wrap back to see what he’d left you.

You weren’t able to stop the tender grin that spread across your face as you saw what he’d left you. He had actually made you your favorite breakfast, along with a couple side dishes he no doubt thought you’d like, including little sausages cut like octopi. It must’ve taken him forever, and no doubt forced him to wake up even earlier than he needed to be.

Your lip trembled slightly your heart feeling so full it almost hurt, touched at the clear care and thought your boyfriend had put into this for you. You honestly couldn’t help tearing up slightly even as you smiled so wide your cheeks hurt. Eventually you managed to get your emotions under control and eat your breakfast feeling like you could almost taste how very much he loved you with each bite.

Before you left for work you made sure to leave him a voicemail, knowing he wouldn’t see it until later, but wanting to express your appreciation all the same in the best way you could for the moment.

It seemed he liked being able to hear your voice and your enjoyed your messages because it was the start of a new tradition. One where he cooked you breakfast every morning and you messaged him in some way in return to express your love and appreciation for your wonderful boyfriend.

#JayeRayWrites #how he shows you affection #miya osamu #osamu miya #osamu #miya osamu x reader #miya osamu x y/n #miya osamu x you #osamu miya x reader #miya osamu fluff #miya osamu fic #miya osamu scenarios #Osamu fluff #haikyuu!!#haikyu imagines #haikyū!!#haikyu fluff #JayeRayReplies

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lilixloveswriting · 3 years

Text

Oasis

Summary: Late, wet from the rain, and with all her friends back home in Inaba, the reader's first day at Shujin Academy was far less than ideal. Prepared to eat her lunch alone, she'd soon realize she wouldn't after to after being approached by the school punk. Ryuji Sakamoto x F!Reader (she wears a skirt, but that's really the only gendery thing going on)

Word Count: 1386

TW: swearing, ryuji says fuck, sad reader, angst with a happy ending

A/N: I wrote this at 2 am as a distraction after crying over kpop yet again. This is incredibly self-indulgent, but hopefully someone else can read it for the same reason. Enjoy!

You dropped your bag and sat down beside it, opening up your lunchbox and unwrapping your sandwich, staring at it emptily before breaking down into tears. Today was your first day at Shujin and, well, things weren’t going great. You’d gotten lost on the way; couldn’t seem to find the damn gate for the connecting train. By the time you did, you knew you were definitely going to be late for class. People weren’t nearly as friendly in the city as they were in Inaba, and nobody seemed to want to stop and help you. The same could be said for the actual students at your school, except instead of completely ignoring you, they were quick to pass judgment, snickering as you walked into the classroom sopping wet from the sudden rain, which you had sworn wasn’t in the forecast.

Your homeroom teacher didn’t take nicely to you being late and gave you a stern scolding, muttering something about always being stuck with the delinquents before leaving for his lunch. So here you were: wet, cold, and hungry, sobbing over your quickly sogging sandwich as you sat alone in a patch of poorly grown grass promptly turning into a puddle of mud as your tears mixed with the rain. You thought about maybe calling your mom, but dismissed the idea realizing she’d only tell you to suck it up, and that the first day was always the worst. Encourage you to try and make some friends...yeah, right. Even if the other students did seem friendly, they all seemed like gossip junkies and would probably turn on you to spread a new exciting rumor given the chance. You’d rather be alone than befriend people like that.

Despite this, you weren’t fooling anyone as the thought only made you cry harder. The tears fell faster as you realized the days at Junes and the floodplain were over, they’d fade into distant memories as your friends back home carried on with their lives, soon forgetting all about you. You never understood the hype about the big city. Sure, there were more things to do, but what was the point if there was no one to share it with? It was the very definition of being alone in a crowded room.

“Oh, fuck.”

You stalled your crying with a gasp, snapping your head up and looking around. You listened intently for footsteps or a voice, but couldn’t distinguish anything between your sniffles and rain pattering on the foliage. “Hello?” You hiccuped, more embarrassing sobs leaving your throat as you grimaced at how pitiful you sounded. “Anyone...is anyone there?” You fumbled to your knees, setting your uneaten sandwich down in your bento before leaning out from behind the wall you’d picked to shelter yourself.

“Uh…” The voice came again, and just as you rounded the corner out stepped a sheepish looking boy, gritting his teeth as his hand rubbed at the back of his blond head. You recognized him from your class. His features were kind of hard to forget, plus, he’d been the only one who didn’t give you a dirty or snarky look when you burst through the door. “Yeah, sorry. I...didn’t know anybody was over here.” He slouched, sticking his hands in his pockets as he pursed his lips, avoiding eye contact with you. Not that you could blame him, you were a mess. “Umm, are...you okay?”

You snorted. Did you look okay? You didn’t have a good answer for his stupid question, so you ignored it, instead asking one of your own. “Am I in your way?”

“Ah...nahh.” He shook his head kicking at the ground. “It’s cool, I was just gonna do some...stuff.”

You scrunched up one side of your face, eyes drifting from his face to the grass outside of your hiding spot. If you were judging just based on his hair, his posture, and the way he’d phrased that last sentence, you wouldn’t be able to think it was anything but drugs. But that was probably how everyone at this school thought, and you were different from them.

“N-nothin shady or anythin!” He said, raising his voice and taking an assertive step forward.

Yeah, no, never mind. It was definitely drugs. “Okay, well, sorry. I’ll get out of your way.” You wiped your face with your sleeve, kneeling back down to pack up your bag.

“Uh, no! I mean, you can stay. Uh…” He toed the ground some more, a frown on face. “It didn’t look like you were done with your food, so.”

You shook your head and cleared your throat with a sniffle. “I’m not that hungry.”

He somehow managed to slouch more as he watched you zip up your bag. “So, you’re new, huh?” He asked and you faltered, glancing up at him and brushing the raindrops off of your forehead.

“How’d you tell?” You scoffed, your own joke only making you feel more embarrassed.

He shrugged and you laughed a bit, shaking your head. “Pack an umbrella in your bag,” He said. “It’s saved my ass about a million times.”

“Oh,” You blinked up at him and nodded. “Thanks for the tip.”

“Uh-huh.” He said, then bent over, bracing his palm on the ground and he lowered himself onto the wet grass. “So, why are you eatin in the rain? There are covered spots you can eat, ya know?”

“And let everyone witness my breakdown? No thanks.” You laughed beside yourself, hands resting on top of your backpack.

“Heh,” He smiled, “Well sorry, you probably won’t gain any popularity points talkin to me.” He said, placing both of his hands in the grass and leaning back, lifting his head to look at the sky.

“Why not?” You watched him a moment before following his gaze. “You seem nice enough.”

He shook his head. “I’m trouble, haven’t you heard?” He glanced at you. “Thought teach woulda toldja.”

“Hmph,” You snickered, “Well by his standards, I’m pretty sure I’m trouble too.” You told him and felt some of your anxiety melt away when succeeding to make him chuckle. “Um, I’m Y/N.” You introduced yourself quietly, still feeling a little shy, but this was the only person who had bothered to even offer up a conversation all day, and you were kind of starving for human interaction.

“Ryuji.” He said, and lifted his hand when he saw you’d outstretched yours, but faltered when it came off if the ground caked with grass and dirt. Ryuji apologized, rubbing away the muck carelessly onto his pants. “Eh, it’s not so bad here. I mean, it’s shit cuz it’s school, but it ain’t awful once you make some friends.”

You gazed at him and sighed, eyes rolling down to the floor. “Yeah…I’ve kinda been struggling with that part.”

The bell rang and Ryuji heaved a sigh, rolling his weight onto his left hand and pushing himself back to his feet. “Welp, if you don’t mind a few rumors, me and my friends are always lookin for more people!” He beamed, offering you a hand, which you gratefully took.

You brushed off your butt, sure your skirt was probably stained, but you didn’t care so much at this point. You needed to get out of these wet clothes anyway, you could probably just change into your gym uniform.

“Here you go.” You looked back up to see Ryuji shoving something at you eagerly, taking it into your hands to realize it was an umbrella.

“Oh, no.” You quickly shook your head, holding it back out for him to take, but of course he refused. “Please, I can’t take this-”

“Then just use it ‘till you get your own.” He said zipping his bag back up and readjusting it on his shoulder. “You’ll get sick if you don’t use one, and then how will you make friends?”

You snorted, breaking into the first true smile you’ve made since moving to Tokyo. “Thank you, Ryuji.”

“Uh-huh!” He nodded with a grin, then turned away and began walking back to the building. “You better hurry up, if you show up late to class with me you’ll be blacklisted.”

You giggled, jogging to catch up to your new friend. To you, being blacklisted with Ryuji definitely didn’t sound like the worst case scenario.

#persona 5 #persona 5 royal #ryuji sakamoto #p5 #ryuji x reader #persona 5 fanfiction #skull persona 5 #my writing #fanfiction #x reader #reader insert #persona 5 imagines #angst #persona 5 angst #hurt/comfort #fluff #angst and fluff #no beta we die like the persona 3 protagonist #lilixloveswriting

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musehyacinthus · 3 years

Text

Shoot Your Shot: Part 1

This is my first published work in over a decade, and I'm so excited to share it with everyone! Dash is my oldest and most treasured oc, and I'm so happy that I finally have the confidence to allow everyone else a peek into her life. This was originally supposed to be a short one shot, but is now going to be a 2(?) part series. I will hopefully be posting more work in the future that explores more of her background, as well as introducing some of my other oc's.

It was June, and the air was warm and sticky, which wasn’t ideal; the humidity made Dash’s hair all frizzy, and it always seemed to happen on a day when she wanted to make meringue.

This morning in particular, her eyes snapped open, bolting upright in her bed with a gasp. She had been having the most amazing dream, in which she was about to take a bite of the biggest, most beautiful lemon meringue pie she had ever seen. However, just as the fork reached her mouth, she woke up, returning to the sad reality where she did not have a mouth watering dessert in front of her. She smacked her lips, trying to recall what the pie had tasted like, but it was already gone. Tragic.

It was then that it dawned on her that she had the ingredients to bring that beautiful pie to life in the kitchen. In an instant, she rushed to her bedroom window. Maybe, if she was lucky, the weather would be on her side today. She pried open the window, a warm, thick breeze blowing against her skin. She groaned. No good; meringue wouldn’t peak in the humidity. No matter how good at baking someone is, they’re no match for mother nature. Pursing her lips, she pulled the latch shut, deciding to settle for banana bread muffins instead.

A couple of hours later, the muffins were nestled in her bag as she hopped off the trolley that crossed the Brooklyn Bridge.

“Thanks!” Dash chirped to the driver, exchanging waves with the man before she bounced away, not noticing the large, gray clouds looming on the horizon.

She clicked her tongue rhythmically as she walked, matching the beat to her steps and scanning the docks for her friend, Twitchy. The purpose of her trip had been to return a book he lent her, but he was nowhere to be seen.

A group of four other teenagers had gathered nearby at the edge of the docks, crouching in a large circle on the ground. Curious, she inched forward, craning her neck to see what was going on.

As she approached, she could see they were surrounding a long piece of brown string that was tied in a circle, surrounding a cluster of marbles.

Her heart skipped a beat. She was fantastic at marbles! She always kept her own pouch on her in case of a marble emergency, which happened more often than one might think.

Now that she was closer, Dash knew the kids to be Newsies like herself from her other visits to the borough. Among the group was a short, round faced girl with glasses and hundreds of freckles who Dash remembered was named Abigail. Her curly, brown hair was pulled back into two braids, her eyebrows knit with frustration as she gazed down at the ring. There was also a pale, skinny boy with sandy, blond hair and brown eyes that Dash didn’t recognize, and a tall boy with broad shoulders and dark hair standing just behind Abigail and watching the game intently. The way he hovered over her, he seemed almost like a bodyguard. What was his name again? Something with a chuh sound…. Chuck? No. Chatter! That was it! She remembered now, she found it funny the first time she learned it because Chatter really didn’t say very much at all. He was a friendly enough guy, but he seemed to like observing and listening more than he liked talking. He and Abigail seemed to always be around one another when Dash saw them, their significant height difference almost comical. Finally, Dash’s eyes rested on the figure closest to her with their back turned. Their brown cap was pulled down low on their face as they knelt on the ground, but she could recognize those bright red suspenders anywhere. He was at an angle where she could just see that was holding a red shooter in his hand, weaving it through his fingertips thoughtfully.

Dash’s feelings toward Spot were… mixed; she could never stop herself from riling him up, and the two would often butt heads due to their wildly different personalities. Spot took himself so seriously, and for the life of her, she couldn’t understand why. It frustrated her that he tried to make himself seem so high and mighty, and she knew the kids in Brooklyn respected him, but as far as she could tell, he was just… some guy. The way he constantly tried to have the attention of those around him was so silly, and just made him come off as a bit of a show off.

She hadn’t seen him do anything particularly intimidating, but the Newsies back in Manhattan would often go on and on about how nervous he made them. She just failed to see any real reason for their apprehension. Then again, she really hadn’t been living in New York all that long; his reputation had been around for a good while. Maybe they all knew something she didn’t.

In any case, as far as she was concerned, he was just a kid who wanted attention. That was fine, of course, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to tease him. It was fun to challenge him, and she found herself getting extremely competitive in his presence. Of course he wasn’t going to back down from a challenge.

Dash would come to Brooklyn every once in a while to exchange books with Twitchy, who she knew was pretty close with Spot. He never seemed to show any signs of being intimidated either, and was an even bigger culprit than she was when it came to pushing Spot’s buttons. He would go to great lengths to make him look silly, like the time he filled Spot’s pockets with bread crumbs and got the neighborhood pigeons to follow him around all day. There was also a time when he dressed up in the same clothes as Spot, and had bribed the other Brooklyn kids with candy to pretend that he was the real Spot for an entire day.

Dash watched as the boy she hadn’t recognized leaned forward, closing one eye and taking a deep breath. He flicked his thumb, his yellow shooter zipping forward and smacking into another large, purple marble. Both marbles rolled over the string, coming to a rest on the other side. The boy whooped with delight, and Abigail let out a cry of astonishment.

“That was a cheap shot, Sonny!” Abigail crossed her arms in front of her chest, staring daggers at the boy. “You know I just got that marble yesterday!”

“It ain’t my fault I got good aim!” Sonny grinned, shrugging and walking over to claim the purple shooter for himself. “Sorry, toots.”

Dash thought Sonny didn’t look all that sorry.

Abigail huffed, sitting back and crossing her legs.

“Fine, whatever. Your turn, Spot.”

Spot, who had been silent the entire time, was already leaning down to shoot his own red marble. He extended his arm, appearing as still as a statue as he aimed the little glass ball toward the center.

At that moment, an idea popped into Dash’s brain. Slowly, without making a sound, she crept up behind him, biting her lip to keep herself from giggling and giving herself away. Finally, just as Spot started to release the shooter, Dash exclaimed “HI, SPOT!”

The boy let out a rather undignified yelp and his hand jerked, the marble rolling into the ring and bouncing gently on one of the mibs. It hardly budged, and Spot’s shooter halted beside it. The other three Brooklyn newsies broke out into laughter, and Spot’s shoulders tensed, turning his head slowly to glare up at Dash.

Dash just smiled, waving down at him.

“Didn’t you hear me? I said hi.”

Spot grunted and rose to his feet, his hazel eyes narrowing at Dash. Despite his intense stare, her expression remained unchanged.

“I heard ya, I heard ya.” He grumbled, glancing her up and down. “You messed me up, y’know.”

“Golly, did I do that?” she feigned surprise, her eyebrows raising. “Whoopsie daisies. Can I play?”

“We’re in the middle of a game.”

“Actually, it’s just endin’!” Sonny chimed in from behind him with a smile. Spot glanced back and shot Sonny a look, who quickly clammed up.

“Aw, that’s okay.” Dash shrugged, adjusting her bag on her shoulder. “It’s no big deal, Spot’s just afraid that I’ll beat him at his own game.” she looked back to Spot, and she swore she saw his eye twitch.

“No. I am not.” He replied firmly.

“Are too.”

“Am. Not.”

“Are tooooo.”

“NO, I am-” Spot’s voice had grown higher pitched in the heat of the moment, but he quickly paused, giving a sideways glance at his Newsies who were all staring at them. He took a deep breath and cleared his throat, his voice now sounding much lower than it had a moment ago.

“Fine.” He said cooly. “Fine, you wanna play? We’ll play. Clear the ring, Sonny.”

In a matter of moments, the ring was reset, thirteen mibs resting in the center in a cross. Dash fished her sack of marbles out from her bag, a little blue pouch that her father had fashioned for her out of some spare fabric. She had about a dozen shooters she had collected over the years, but there was a very special one she wanted to use for this occasion.

She rummaged around in the pouch for a moment before pulling up a shooter that was minty green and blue with little white swirls. Sonny whistled, leaning in to look at it.

“That’s real pretty.” He mused. Dash beamed, tossing it up in the air once and catching it.

“Thanks! It’s the first marble I ever won back when I was younger.”

Abigail raised an eyebrow. “You sure ya wanna use that thing, then? Seems pretty special to be usin’ in a game. Don’t wanna end up like me and have it taken from ya.” She glared pointedly at Sonny, who only grinned back at her innocently with large, doe like eyes.

Dash nodded. “Oh, yeah! This guy is my go-to shooter, he’s real lucky!” She held it up proudly, admiring the way the colorful swirls glistened in the light. “I’ve never lost a match with him!”

Spot was also staring at the marble, a ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Huh. Oh, well, it’s your funeral, girlie.” He stretched his arms over his head, shifting his gaze back to her. “You better say your goodbyes now, ‘cause that thing’s gonna be in my pocket real soon.”

Dash stuck out her tongue at him. She wasn’t nervous; her lucky shooter had never failed her before, and this game would be no different.

The two knelt on opposite ends of the circle, and the others sat off to the side as spectators. Spot motioned his hand toward her.

“Ladies first.”

Dash positioned herself in front of the ring with her shooter. Without any delay, she flung her marble forward, grinning at the satisfying clack it made as it smacked into one of the mibs, sending two of them rolling out of the ring. Dash whooped loudly, and Spot continued to watched in silence with a serious expression.

“Nice!” Abigail grinned.

Her shooter was still within the circle, which meant she was able to shoot her marble again from the inside the ring. She hummed, hopping to the other side and returning to her knees to the left of Spot. As she reached for her shooter, her shoulder briefly brushed against his. Spot jumped as if he had been shocked, scowling and moving a few inches to his right. Dash barely even noticed him, focused on finding the right angle to shoot her marble. She flicked it once more and the marble struck another mib, but it didn’t have as much force as the first hit. It rolled a few inches and stopped just before reaching the edge. Dash shrugged, flopping backward onto her behind. “Oh well. Your turn.”

Spot nodded, adjusting his cap. Dash saw him glance over at the other kids for a fleeting second, then returned his gaze to the marbles. He cracked his knuckles loudly, which Dash found rather unnecessary, and flexed his hands at his sides. He scooped up his red shooter, assuming the position. His eyebrows knit together and he bit his lip.

This was ridiculous; the longer she waited for him to make his move, the more restless she felt. She drummed her hands on her lap as she waited. After what felt like centuries, she couldn’t take it anymore.

“Can’t you go any faster?” She huffed.

“I’m focusin’.”

“Focus faster!” she urged.

Spot’s jaw clenched, still not looking at Dash. He exhaled, finally releasing his marble. It hit two mibs at once, sending them flying out of the circle in opposite directions. Sonny cheered loudly and Abigail nodded with approval while Chatter clapped politely beside her. The marble stopped right where it hit its mark, meaning it was still in play.

Spot grinned, clearly pleased with himself as he turned his attention back to Dash. She clapped, nodding slowly.

“That was great, yeah! Hey, at this rate, maybe we’ll have a winner by Thanksgiving!” she teased. Abigail let out a cough that Dash could have sworn was a laugh.

Spot’s grin snapped back to a scowl, squinting hard at her. Dash smiled back. Sometimes it was just too easy.

Spot closed his eyes briefly, regaining his composure. When he opened his eyes again, the look in his eyes had changed.

“Oh, I ain’t movin’ fast enough for ya?” he asked, stretching out his arms and making a big show of moving into shooting position once more. Slowly, he leaned forward, maintaining eye contact with her the entire time. “That’s no problem. I can go faster.”

He set his eyes on Dash’s lucky shooter, and before she could even process what was happening, he shot his red marble straight for it.

Dash’s eyes widened in horror, and she gasped as the shooter crashed into her minty blue sphere, causing it to roll right out of the ring.

Her heart sank, realizing what he had just done. She looked up at him in dismay and was met with a smug smile.

“Oh, would ya look at that? Seems like ya lucky marble ain’t so lucky no more.” He snickered. “Oopsie daisies.”

The other Brooklyn kids appeared stunned at what their leader had done, exchanging nervous glances with one another. Sure, he had joked about taking the marble, but it didn’t seem like they thought he would actually take it.

“Spot…” Abigail started, but Spot ignored her, plucking the shooter from the ground and rolling it across his palm as he stood.

“You were right, Abby. She shoulda listened to your advice, don’t’cha think?”

For a minute, Dash was speechless. Did that really just happen? Was he being serious right now?

Her shock quickly turned to rage. She rose and stormed up to him, lunging toward the marble.

“No! That’s not fair, you can’t-”

“What exactly ain’t fair here?” Spot interrupted, snatching it away and holding her prized shooter high in the air. “I ain’t no cheater, ask anyone here! I won this here marble fair and square!” He looked over at the others for confirmation, daring any of them to argue. “You all saw it, right? No rules broken, yeah?”

Reluctantly, the three nodded in agreement, which only fueled Dash’s anger. She grunted and jumped toward his raised hand in an attempt to grab it, but he stepped back, barking out a laugh.

“Better luck next time, short stuff!”

Dash grunted, jumping up and down as she tried snatch her marble. “Oh, that’s rich, coming from you! You’re barely three inches taller than me at most!”

“Still, it’s three inches you ain’t got!” he snickered. “I’m playin’ the game the way it’s s’posed to be played! When ya shoot your opponent’s marble outta the ring, you claim it! That’s the rule!”

They danced around one another, Dash hopping up toward his hand and Spot pulling away at the very last second. Dash could feel her cheeks burning. She grit her teeth and let out a loud groan. “Why are you being such a jerk?!” She exclaimed, taking another swing just as he jumped out of the way. “You only shot at my marble to be mean!”

“I’m the jerk?” He scoffed, side stepping when she tried to snatch it again. “You’ve been pickin’ on me this whole time! ”

“Was not!”

“Were too!”

“WAS NOT!”

“WERE TOO!”

“Hey, now,” Chatter spoke up for the first time, stepping forward. His voice was deep and soft. “Maybe we should all calm down…”

But Dash didn’t want to calm down. She was fuming, her hands clenching and unclenching at her sides. Logically, she knew she shouldn’t be getting so worked up over a silly, little marble, but she couldn’t control it; she was livid! How dare he take something from her that he knew was special to her! How dare he hold it over her head and taunt her with it! The way he smirked down at her made her stomach bubble with anger. She wasn’t going to let him get away with this.

She lunged once more, but this time, she wasn’t aiming at his hand.

She reached for his head, plucking off the brown cap from his head in one quick swipe and scurrying backward with a triumphant “HA!”

Spot blinked in surprise, his free hand instinctively moving toward his head. His caramel hair was now in disarray, falling in wisps across his face.

“Ha ha. Very funny, girlie, give it back.”

“No.”

“Seriously? Dash, c’mon.”

Dash was already scooping up her bag of belongings and throwing it over her shoulder, a wild grin on her face. It was juvenile, sure, but it was the only thing she could think to do in the heat of the moment. She offered him a quick salute, then bolted from the scene of the crime, leaving a flabbergasted Spot behind her.

She was already halfway down the block before she heard an enraged bellow behind her:

“DAAAAASH!”

---------------------

End of Part 1

#newsies #newsies fanfic #newsies oc #newsies oc fanfic #hyacinthus writes #newsies original character #dash #spot #pls be kind this is my first fic since i was 12 asdfgdsa #oc x canon #cringe culture is dead oc x canon is cool now

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kuroo-shitsurou · 3 years

Text

Conditioner (Juban)

note: ngl i think i made them a bit ooc here but SDGJAGF pls i just cant they make me so happy

word count: 1.4k

"Yuzo-san was brutal as ever today," Taichi whined as he got out of the bath.

"Good. Somebody needs to remind this troupe to buck-up or else we'll get overshadowed by the others." Sakyo shifted his glasses, eyeing how tired the rest of troupe members seemed to be. His lead role in Ginji wasn't as difficult to play, given that he already had a yakuza background, but he knew how much the others struggled with their roles. Seriously, how the hell are the yakuza related to hotdogs and juicy weenies or whatever the hell Taichi blabbed about earlier?

"It wasn't that hard, really." Banri piped up from the couch.

"Easy for you to fuckin' say." Juza muttered under his breath.

"Try sayin' that to my face, will 'ya?"

"I said-"

"So! Anyone up for some meat skewers tonight? There was a great sale at the market earlier." Omi spoke up to break the tension between the two. It would be a headache dealing with them if they went full-on brawl mode.

"Ooh, that sounds good!" Taichi could already feel his stomach rumbling.

"In that case, I'd better hop in the shower real quick so I can get started on dinner." Omi moved his gaze to where Juza stood, "Come on, Juza."

Juza gave a small grunt of approval, still glaring daggers at Banri.

"Why must you two always act like such children?" Sakyo pinched the bridge of his nose.

"We ain't children. You're just old."

Taichi snickered at this comment from Banri until he saw the menacing aura that Sakyo emitted.

"The hell did you say to me?"

Taichi prayed for Banri's soul.

"What's that, Juza?" Omi eyed the pink bottle Juza was toying with in his hands.

"Muku got this for me earlier today. He said it was conditioner."

"How nice of him. I never really took you for a guy who uses conditioner. No offense."

"Nah, you're right. I normally don't, but it wouldn't hurt to try it once in a while. It'd be a shame if it went to waste anyway."

Omi chuckled as he rinsed the suds out of his hair, "Thoughtful as always."

Juza felt a faint blush form on his cheeks as he massaged the sweet-smelling conditioner through his locks.

"'S whatever."

Juza and Omi finally exited the bathroom to see Banri teaching Taichi how to properly solve a rubiks cube.

"So then you turn it here, then here, then twist this part up, and you got it." Banri's fingers were quick to solve the cube perfectly.

"Banny I asked you to teach me, not solve it for me!" Taichi wept crocodile tears.

"Ah, my bad."

"Omi! Juza! You're finally back! Can't wait to taste those meat skewers." The redhead happily greeted the two who were fresh from the bath.

"I'll get started right away. Come help me out for a bit, Taichi."

"Sir yes sir!" Taichi made a beeline for the kitchen with Omi happily humming behind him.

Banri and Juza felt an awkward pause in the room before Juza moved to sit with Banri on the couch. Not beside him though, he was at the opposite end from where the blond was sitting.

He didn't know why, but Banri shifted in his seat and fidgeted with the rubiks cube in his hands; Messing it up and then reassembling it again.

"'Grats on practice today," Banri was sure that there was still leftover water in his ears.

"What?"

"I said 'grats on practice, you deaf fuckface." Was that a blush on Juza's face? "Yuzo-san barely gave criticism on your part for the yakuza shtick. That doesn't mean you'll be top dog, though. I'm still gonna beat your ass."

Banri snickered, "As if. I'm gonna steal the show and have you eat my dust." He turned his body just enough for him to be facing his roommate, "Thanks, though. Whatever, I guess."

His nose picked up an unfamiliar scent; It was sweet and light, which was surprising, since Omi said he was going to be cooking something far from sweet tonight. His eyes wandered to Juza, who was drying his hair with a towel.

"What're you lookin' at?" Juza scowled.

"N-Nothing," Banri stuttered, and he mentally cursed himself for doing so.

"D-Did you use something?"

"Haa?"

"A new shampoo or something," Banri chose his words carefully to pretend like he didn't give a flying fuck about Juza (which was quite the opposite, actually, but Banri would rather die than admit it).

"Wh-? Yeah. Muku gave me a new conditioner." Juza quickly looked at the pink bottle again, "Bubblegum. Eh."

Banri felt his breath get caught in his throat. How the hell was he so cute and dumb at the same time?!

"I see."

Banri had this incredibly dumb idea. It was going to satisfy the burning desire building in the pit of his stomach, but it was also absolutely dumb. It was going to give him a sense of fulfillment, but it was also unbelievably dumb.

And you know what? Maybe Banri Settsu was dumber than he initially accounted for.

"You're doing it wrong." He spoke up nervously, to which Juza cocked his eyebrow at.

"The hell are you-"

Before Juza could even finish his sentence, Banri was already up and behind the sofa, with Juza sitting directly in front of him. He grabbed the towel from Juza's hand and started to twist his damp locks between the fabric.

"Settsu, what in the actual fuck are you doing?" Although Juza's voice was laced with venom and despise for the blond, he made no move to dissuade the other from stopping his actions.

"You're drying your hair wrong and it's annoying me." Banri's reply was quick and quiet. He focused on getting Juza's hair dry.

Banri's mind went blank. There was just one word running through his brain right now.

Soft.

Juza's hair was incredibly fucking soft.

This was the first time that Banri had a feel of Juza's hair right after he got out of the shower, and he hated the fact that it was so soft to the touch. You'd think that his hair would be all rough and dry and spiky with the amount of gel he uses. Maybe it was the conditioner? He silently thanked Muku for that.

The soft texture of his luscious purple locks mixed with the intoxicating scent of bubblegum made Banri's head spin. This was bad.

On the receiving end, Juza was confused and... embarrassed. When was the last time he had someone dry his hair for him? Maybe when he was back in grade school? And for his rival to be the one doing so? This was so weird... and yet, so comforting.

Though he wouldn't admit it, Juza liked how Banri's fingers massaged through his scalp. He liked it how Banri would ruffle his hair with the towel. He liked it how Banri gave his full and undivided attention to him, and him alone.

"There," The male's voice called to him, snapping him out of his daze.

"A-Ah, yeah. Th-Thanks, I guess." Juza coughed to hide the blush on his face.

"Do it right next time. It's annoying when you do it like a dumb kid." Truth be told, there was nothing wrong with how Juza was drying his hair. Banri just wanted to touch his hair. As if he'd ever say that aloud.

"...And what if I don't do it right next time?" Juza's quiet voice ripped the smirk off Banri's face for a split second. It was so fast that Juza's brain didn't even register it happening.

"Guess I'll have to show you how to do it until you get it right." For a brief moment, Juza thought that Banri was smiling at him. A soft, calming smile. Nah. This was Banri Settsu; Annoying, loudmouthed, disgusting, cute (?), calming (???) Banri Settsu. He wouldn't smile at him like that... Right?

"Dinner's almost ready!" Omi called from the kitched.

"Hey! Omi told me that we should call for the others!" Taichi came bounding towards the two, oblivious to the tense atmosphere between them.

"Yeah, I'll call the left wing." Juza stood from where he was seated, annoyed at how wobbly his knees felt.

"I'll go right."

"I'll go with you, Banny! Hey, why do your hands smell like bubblegum?"

"Shut up, Taichi!"

Juza snickered lightly to himself as he went to knock on the dorm rooms.

He needed to thank Muku for the conditioner.

#juza hyodo #banri settsu #a3! game #a3! fanfic #juban #juban fanfic #juza x banri #a3! banri #a3! juza #settsu banri #hyodo juza #a3! one shots #mankai #fuck fuck fuck DOMESTIC JUBAN FUCK

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afterhoursgame · 3 years

Note

so I haven’t dyed my hair in a while because I’m also considering changing it up color and ratio wise, but anyways I had blue streaks for a long time and I wanna give my two cents and give some general tips for having dyed hair, this is basically the timeline:

Also I don’t know how many times you’ve dyed your hair so I’m gonna assume it’s your first time and hopefully I don’t look like an absolute fool and you’re like an expert lmao

for reference: I have very dark brown sometimes wavy, mostly doing its thing hair, wouldn’t describe as curly but it’s not straight either, it’s just existing lmao.

the first time I dyed it my small ass brain didn’t go “Oh! I have natural dark brown hair so if I dye it without ✨bleaching it✨ it wouldn’t show up” because like…science and colors? and it was practically nonexistent despite having been dyed.

then the second time I again didn’t go think about bleaching it because as I told you, I’m very clever and big brained, but instead I did very light blonde dye then did the blue afterwards which actually worked for a while somehow someway but was very faint and the color wasn’t really blue, it was more so dirty ass pond green LMAO?

then I started bleaching then like a normal person then dyeing it which worked and the color was blue this time, and that’s what I’ve done for a while before stoping a while back.

now I’m considering doing full hair dye, with the colors being half-teal half-pink like the absolute mess I am, and i’m kinda keen on my plan till now, just need to figure out how, as for the dye type I honestly just the something new every once in a while to see which is the better one if that makes sense, I used a couple of brands that like had a color on the box that didn’t really look the same irl, but those were uncommon instances in my experience.

Some general tips/notes that I’m just gonna throw out there:

In my experience, when your hair is wet/damp it can stain towels, pillow cases etc. so look it for that lmao

If you’re unsure whether a color would look good or not you can always get temporary dye first, it ain’t gonna look exactly the same but at least it’s close enough and ain’t permanent ya know.

If you have a darker hair color/would need to bleach your hair a lot I think this goes without saying but please be careful when doing it, especially if it’s your first/second time doing it.

Speaking of bleach, after a while of bleaching it could make your hair a tad dry, depending on how much you do it (like I had streaks so it wasn’t really that like damaging) so that’s something to take note of.

In conclusion: first time dyeing was practically invisible because of my dark brown hair, then dirty ass pond green then finally normal blue, dye brands are mostly trail and error for me and experiences with colors not being accurate happened before but are uncommon for the brands local I’ve used, and my general tip is just try different (and well-known) brands every once in a while and see what’s best for you, and just to have fun ya know! :3

Hopefully this all helps and that I haven’t been doing everything wrong all that time, have fun!! :3

Oh babe, what a mess! Okay so I did the same thing first time I dyed my hair. So. I have black hair. As in color, and curl, right? So i was looking for ways to dye my hair w/o bleaching. I did my lil research and all that, and I found you can use developer and tube dye. So I get myself some Lo'real tube dye in this pretty red color and like.. 10 vol. developer.

So I do my thing, "dye" it and I'm all geeked up like ooo I dyed my hair, it's gonna be so pretty..... I washed that shit out and when I say... Oh my god. That shit did NOTHING. It was like, you had to hold the lamp under my damn hair to even SLIGHTLY see some damn color. And I thought I was hot shit!

Anyways. So round 2 right. I go out an I get myself an actual BOX dye like. A bitch was broke so I wasn't about to go out and get myself two or more tubes of dye and developer to try and do this again. SO. I get myself a lil box dye, another red. OOOOO did that take me down a NOTCH baby. That shit turned me orange. Deadass. I slapped some temp dye on or wore some hair wraps. No.

Round three, the most recent!! This came out so good, imma find a pic of it and share it soon, cause that color came out SO GOOD. The only problem was it literally ALL washed out, and it's made the previous orange just a little darker, so it's like a ginger color now. Which everyone says doesn't look bad but like... I'm a brown-skinned woman. Orange has to be done right to match my skin tone, and this, I just feel like it doesnt?

My main thing is just trying to find a dye that doesn't wash out to a color thats muddy or doesn't look right with my skin tone. Which, I mean I can't control what color it fades to I know, but just something a little bit more tolerable? Anyways! Thank you so much for all the tips!!

#shenanigans #Like #I know this has nothing to do with my IF yall #but #this is my blog so #everyone is being so helpful tho like omg

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jjba-hell · 3 years

Text

Repaid

Day 3 and its time for some spaghetti western shenanigans.

Listen... I don’t like Westerns but I did have way too much fun writing this so do with it what you may.

Reader stays gender neutral in this house, no real warnings save for some guns and violence. Enjoy.

The dull ache in your right eye socket is really starting to get you. You’d figured you could sleep it off if not for the scratchy material of the tavern sheets under your skin.

Wait.

How did you get to the tavern again? Last time you checked Miles was a few days behind you and he had the money. The plan was to camp.

Camp... camp... oh right camp! You sat up to look for anyone else awake- someone should be on watch but there’s no dying campfire beside you. There was nothing beside you, not even a horse to say you’d been left behind. All that stretched around you was an infinite amount of desert sand painted pale blue by the full moon above you.

“Shit.” You hiss out between your teeth as you push yourself up on your feet. Not even so much as a sleeping mat was underneath you and god this stupid eye of yours was foggy. Must be some sand caught in your eye- wouldn’t it scratch though?

You didn’t have much time to consider pondering as a shadow- that’s the best you could describe it- pushed its shoulder through you and continued a sluggish walk ahead of you to fuck knows where.

“Where are you going?” You found yourself asking with a voice much too hoarse to be your own. Not only was it hoarse but it brought awareness to just how dry and cracked your mouth and throat were. If you’d been out here since sundown or ever before that your throat was probably bleeding. Might explain the taste.

Without feeling like you had much choice you started walking after the shadow. The longer you walked the worse every annoying itch turned into an ache- the scratchiness in your throat only seemed to get worse the more you huffed a breath to continue walking. If you were following death, honestly you’d just laugh.

After what felt like hours you were no longer alone- a few other figures much like the one you were following seemed to join you in blindly walking after the leader. You couldn’t see much of them either, not that they were close enough to look at anyway. The town’s dull yellow lights seemed to brighten every step you took but it wasn’t enough to convince your body to cooperate. The closer you got, the heavier your limbs, the harder the steps until your knees gave out under you and your face acquainted itself with the dirt.

All you could remember after that was the feeling of hands clasping themselves under your arms and your feet dragging behind you.

“That’s the only memory I have of that night. I had no idea I even spoke to you.” You admitted to the man whose saddle you were slung over. “So unless you plan on selling yourselves out for a little bounty money I don’t see why this is fucking necessary.”

When you’d woken up from that night you found yourself more coddled than you’d ever been in your life- swaddled in soft sheets and even softer pajamas, wrapped up in bandages like you were a porcelain doll.

Didn’t last long and now you owed this gang money for your stay and a doctors visit. You promised you’d pay them back but you didn’t have a fucking penny on you. Their solution? Tying your hands in front of you and slinging you over the saddle of the one with the weird eyes.

“You admitted to being from the McRoys gang- that’s loyalty bonded by blood.” The gruff voice above you commented, not doing anything to qualm the painful pounding your stomach was getting from the horse’s steps.

“My sister married a McRoy for fuck’s sake, those fucks don’t mean shit to me!”

“Swear that on ya daddy’s grave?” Came the question after some audible hooves clambering to get closer to your head.

“I’ll do ya one better- I’ll put ‘em in his grave and THEN swear they ain’t mean shit to me.”

Their boss slowed down to a stop and you’ve never wanted to slide headfirst into the sand more than you did in that moment. “This the place?”

You were hauled off of the horse and onto shakey legs. True as hell you stood at the sign for the McRoy ranch and to even a bigger surprise your goddamn horse stood at the troth drinking water with your saddle on and all.

“Why you fucking- untie me right now.” You held your bound wrists at the giant man that had lifted you off.

He only gave an amused huff of air from his nose as he cut you free so you could stomp through the hot sand on bare feet.

“And you leave me? After hauling you out of your fucking mother all those years ago, I topple off you once and you fucking high-tail it?” You angrily grab the knapsack from its back to rummage through for some clothes- wasting no time to slip over your head and over your ass to replace the pajamas.

“Are you sure you were riding alone?” The brunette with the ponytails asked.

“Yeah. I don’t even remember why I toppled, let alone where or how..” You peered at the team once more. “My boots?”

They all seemed to share a laugh as the blonde coughed it up and you humiliatingly stepped straight in them.

“Right. So now that we’re all on equal footing... what do you really want from me?”

Being an outcast in any group was difficult, LaSquadra was no different. You’d have to risk your skin more than once to finally be able to earn even a bit of trust from their boss specifically and what you’d deem your cut was quickly snatched up by Formaggio for drinks until one day Risotto handed you your cut of coin and instead of quietly handing over the money, pulled a gun at Formaggio’s head- the first right move you’d pulled in weeks.

You’d soon learn each of them held a bounty over their heads- deciding to stick together instead of trying to haul each other’s asses to the nearest sheriff. And with your handiwork all over the McRoy ranch heist (clean as you’d tried to keep it), you’d find yourself with a bounty almost comparable to Risotto’s.

It was only when your place among them was solidified that you found yourself suggesting more and more outlandish schemes for a bigger cash grab.

“But we gotta start thinking logically about this- if we burn down every sheriff’s office there’d be no evidence to incriminate us.” You had jabbed at Illuso as you two ducked under an overturned table. One moment you were offering a stand off in the town square, the next thing you knew the bar was being blown sky high by some awfully desperate lawmen.

Risotto’s bullwhip slid across the shattered glass from the neighboring table and that what all signal you needed. “And all of this because ONE wanted poster showed you having a mole on your upper lip.”

“Did you not see the size of that thing??”

Risotto kicked the overturned table to slide into the crowd- leaving you enough of a gap to between the bullets to crack the whip into a couple hands- those viper venom soaked bone shards woven into the end was doing enough damage to the holder’s hand to knock ‘em out of the game for the count.

You got enough of them down to give Ghiaccio the chance to fire a few shots and Melone to bust open the window where Pesci awaited with your way out.

Risotto slid in behind your table and handed the loaded pistol for your round of shots. Not that you missed half as much as the men your travelled with.

Your right eye never did stop being foggy- Melone suspected cataracts but you saw targets much too easy with your foggy eye to cover it up completely. Maybe you were taking “deadeye” too literally though.

After 5 out of 6 rounds now lodged firmly in some lawmen’s thighs you hopped out the window last and took off after the rest of your team.

“If we have to pay for one more bar’s repairs I swear to god I’ll turn myself in for a hanging.” Formaggio huffed as he dropped onto the dusty floor beside you- fingers outstretched for the bottle of moonshine you were only passing around- that shit was vile.

“They’ve been hot on our trail for a while now- you think the townspeople are sick of us?”

“Somehow I doubt they’re willing to take their chances with Ciocolatta’s cronies, must be something else.” Prosciutto lowered himself to your other side, offering a cigarette which you did accept. “You don’t think it’s the new governor?”

“That little blonde pipsqueak? No, there’s no way- he probably got that job from his daddy and doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing, let alone getting lawmen to run us down this consistently. Illuso, you’re the one making people squeal when we stay in town, no rumors that could have sparked this?”

“Carne’s allegedly dead but he’s not big enough for the people to let their guards down now.”

“Well we might be finding out soon.” All your heads spun to Risotto as he walked back into camp from the first watch. “There’s someone coming this way.”

“I’m guessing you think we can take them?”

“Sick of running. Anyone who’d come this far after us at least deserves an audience.”

You’d packed everything up except the fire in the camp- if it was going to be a shootout, at least you’d be ready to leave. You were about to mount your horse when Risotto stopped you. “I’m gonna let you stand up front-“ he handed you his bullwhip and two more casings of ammo. “If anything goes south, you’re our best shot.”

So you nodded and led your horse to the front, the others waiting behind you as the group- matching your own in numbers- came to a stop.

“You calling the shots?” The one with long white hair cascading under the brim of his hat asked.

“Nah- just the front line. What you come out all this way for? The moonshine’s shit unfortunately.”

“Precaution. We’re not here for any arrests, though.” Mr Black Bob came to his partner’s defense- the rest only seemed to wait.

“No arrests? You say that with a lawman right next to you?” You gave a nod to Mr Moonhair.

The click of a pistol had the hairs on the back of your head stand up. You didn’t know from which side it came from but it was like a cascade of 13 other pistols pulling back their hammers.

“Perhaps we should talk before we jump to conclusions. Name’s Bucciarati.”

“Well Bucciarati it sounded like that pistol cock came from your side first. I don’t know if I can trust a bunch of snakes that lie to my face.”

It was surprisingly not Mr Moonhair that removed his revolver from its holster. It was the one with the bandana over his head.

Another cascade of metal slipping from leather as they all pointed at one another, save for you and Bucciarati. “Got some trigger-happy subordinates there, Bucci. Who do you work for?”

“The governor.” All charm had left his voice and now you were left to the stiff formalities of a man serving.

“Ah. So you ARE lawmen.”

“We have no idea what sinister grip you have over the townspeople but it will not continue like this. We’re here for an ultimatum. Disappear from your business and all bounties will drop- no lawman will arrest you and the warrant for your hangings will be dropped.”

“Mhm and if we’re caught doing our usual business?”

“Then all charges are doubled.”

You couldn’t help but give an earnest laugh as you broke the stare off between you and Bucciarati. You leisurely turned around and mounted your horse. Risotto gave you a knowing look as you did, stealing yourself to look into Bucciarati’s ocean blue eyes.

“Do yourselves a favor- go visit Reaverbrooke. Ask some questions... shit if anyone is still there... and get a feel for the service we provide. Make sure you report all of that to the little blonde boy’s boot you’re lickin’ and maybe then we can talk on ultimatums.”

The barrels lowered as you spoke, watching Bucciarati keep up his attempt at a death stare.

“But since you’re lucky, you’re dealing with the bleeding heart of this gang- we’ll lay low until you come back to us. Same time next week?”

Bucciarati wasn’t given much time to answer as you led your squad out of the camp. Once enough distance was put between you, Risotto came up beside you.

“You’re leading us to their base? What are you mad?”

“Someone’s gotta put that pipsqueak back into his place. Who better than us?”

#jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo no kimyou na bouken #la squadra #jojo part 5 #risotto nero #formaggio #prosciutto #illuso #Ghiaccio #pesci #lasquadraweek2021

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mampysou · 3 years

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Day 11 of Harringrove April.