not at all volleyball

megadere  asked:

So we know Akaashi is very intelligent, cognizant, and very patient XD so do you have any headcanons of the thoughts that go around in his head? Maybe because of more Bokuto antics, or his S/O, or the rest of his team? Thank you as always~

  • Akaashi is very aware of his surroundings, although his analyzing usually happens in his subconscious, unless there is a suspect or situation that intrigues him clearly
  • The prime example for the latter fact is Bokuto, Akaashi has created numerous categories for his dejected mode, having developed solutions that can potentially pull him out of his moody behaviour
  • Although his focus is mainly on Bokuto, it is not illogical to assume that he does the same with people he is close with
  • Thankfully the rest of his teammates are rather stable, meaning they do not have all that many mood-swings that affect their ability to play volleyball too much
  • It seems like Akaashi knows exactly how to utilize each members’ strength to get through a game without Bokuto, or at least until he has calmed down and is ready to be his usual self again
  • He even has influenced his team’s managers and teammates into treating Bokuto in  a way that allows his confidence to grow before or during a match
  • Knowing that it would be way too difficult to motivate Bokuto all on his own, Akaashi probably has done some work “behind the scenes”, giving everyone a prep talk about what to do when a certain case happens
  • Perhaps he has such solutions for his everyday life as well, using them whenever a situation that he already has experienced, occurs
  • Although Akaashi likes to be prepared, the thrill of experiencing something unknown is even more satisfying to him, because that means that he can gain even more knowledge about a certain situation and use this accordingly to get out of it
  • He definitely has a mischievous side to him, tempted to trick people into thinking that he has no sly side to his character, unable to hide his cheeky smirk whenever they do fall victim to his traps

Very rough, unedited thing about Pickles and Tony. How did we get here! The world may never know.

I’m still trying to dig myself out of this creative rut. Maybe I’ll try to write something every day this week! Except I have volleyball tomorrow. And a meeting explaining all the traditions and events for my Indian friend’s wedding. And another friend’s wedding on Friday. And I’m running the Firecracker Four Mile Race on the Fourth of July okay you know what this was a bad idea sorry I brought it up. 

It was raining when they reached the motel. There’d been a screw-up with the booking; only two rooms had been reserved. While their manager argued with a tired-looking front desk clerk, Pickles swiped one of the available keys. He’d earned it, goddamn it. The concert was a shitshow. Sammy threw up blood all over his drum kit. Bullets was so hammered he fell off stage. Tony may as well not even shown up. Pickles was the only one with even an ounce of sobriety. Not that he was sober. Far from it. But he didn’t have to be sober play the fucking hits.

He trudged up the steps two at a time, the railing slick beneath his palm. He was done. Done with this tour, done with this band, done with all of it. Every show was worse than the last, a haze of discord and booze and weed and pills and more booze and even more drugs. And Tony. God, Tony. He couldn’t even look at him anymore, his eyes like hollowed cicada shells.

“Heyyyyyyy.”

Of fucking course.

He was noodly and pliant from the heroin, tumbling into the room with his hands on Pickles’ hips. He moved for Pickles’ belt.

“C’mahn, dood,” he said. “I just wanna go ta bed.”

“We share that goal, love,” he slurred, nuzzling his cheek into Pickles shoulder. Pickles tried to shift out of the touch, but for a junkie Tony’s grip was surprisingly strong. His arms wound around Pickles waist and tugged him into a too-forceful embrace. “Roger still hasn’t squared away the rooms.”

“Tony…”

“Looks like we’re gonna be roomiiiiiiies.”

“Yer fuckin’ high as shit.”

Tony laughed as he snaked his hand up Pickles’ shirt. Pickles batted him away.

“Ya can sleep in here, I guess if ya need to–”

He closed his eyes as Tony pressed wet, sloppy kisses to his jaw.

“Can you not–”

“Whyyyyy?”

“Cause I don’t want ya to fuckin’ touch me, alright? Jaysus.”

Tony made a noise like a dying cat. Pickles felt something wet on the back of his neck.

“Tony, naht now.”

“Can you just–”

“Don’t do this.”

“I just need to hear it. Just once.”

Pickles sighed.

“Please, P.”

Outside the motel sign dimmed; the room flickered red with blinking neon. Tony shuddered and quaked behind him. His first night in California he told Tony he’d never seen the ocean. They took a bus to Santa Monica, sharing nips of whiskey from a flask in Tony’s boot. The sea was black and cold but Tony’s hand was warm, and as the foam pooled at Pickles ankles he felt this could be someone he maybe might love.

He said it. There was a time when he meant it. But not now.

bokuto-joutarou  asked:

I HEARD A SUGA CONFERENCE WAS HAPPENING SORRY IM LATE

DON’T WORRY FRIEND IT JUST STARTED

LOL OBVIOUSLY THIS IS AN EXAGGERATION 

victor wouldn’t know that much about volleyball, just the basics, so during games he’d shout out all the wrong stuff and he’s also nekoma’s biggest fanboy

yuri’s first time to nekoma’s match and doesn’t know why he’s shouting out all these things when they’re at a volleyball game 

1 //

anonymous asked:

What do you think about an “i picked up your bag at the airport but i can’t find your number so i’m about to embark on the largest scavenger hunt of all time by using your strange belongings to track you down” au with charmer or nurseydex or zimbits or something??

Well, I don’t know if you expected three mini fics, and I didn’t fully follow the prompt, but here we are.

1. Charmer

Look, Chris knew it was dumb. He knew that everyone on earth had a plain black suitcase, he knew he should have double-checked the luggage tag, he knew it was important to be sure abut these things. But knowing what he should have done couldn’t help him when he finally got his suitcase home and opened it up to find mostly yoga pants and sundresses. 

Fuck.

He zipped the bag back up and flipped open the luggage tag. It was cute, pink with some metallic lettering saying “I’m outta here!” in a handwritten font. Chris blamed jetlag and the redeye flight for making him miss the fact that it wasn’t his Sharks tag. He blamed the bag’s owner for not filling out any of the information on the tag.

Dammit.

Well, sorry random girl, he thought. He opened the suitcase up again to try to see if he could find anything that would give him a clue as to who the suitcase owner was. He moved a makeup bag aside, and hit gold immediately. Well, Samwell red. A Women’s Volleyball tshirt– mystery suitcase girl had to be on the volleyball team.

“Hey Ransom!” he yelled. “You’re facebook friends with all the volleyball team right?”

“He’s friends with everyone on campus!” Holster yelled back.

“Ask their captain if anyone flew in from the Bay Area and lost their luggage!”

_X_

“Is Justin here? My captain said he’s got my suitcase.” Chris overheard her at the door. He grabbed the bag and started hauling it downstairs. As he set it down at the bottom and caught sight of the girl in the doorway, he froze. She was pretty. Like, really pretty. 

“Um, hi,” he said.

“So you’re Justin? Oh my god, I’m so glad it wasn’t some total rando who got my bag.” 

“I’m actually Chris, Justin was just the one who was friends with your captain. Um, I’m sorry, but I kind of had to look through your stuff? Your luggage tag wasn’t filled out.” The girl laughed.

“Yours wasn’t either! Me and my teammates were like one minute away from googling the record holder for most San Jose Sharks merch, but it totally makes sense that you’re on the hockey team.” 

“Since we both forgot to write our numbers down, maybe we should do that now?” Chris suggested. The girl grinned, grabbed his phone out of his hand, and opened up a new contact. She punched in a number, and when she handed it back he saw a text of several random emojis addressed to the new contact of “Caitlin Farmer” with a girl farmer emoji and a volleyball emoji.

“Text me sometime, and maybe we can get dinner?” she said, and she was gone with her suitcase. 

Chris collapsed on the couch, a dreamy look in his eyes.

“Chowder? You get your suitcase back?” Bitty called out from the kitchen.

“Yeah! and I think I’m in love now!”

2. Nurseydex

“Cheryl, I’m telling you, I had a ton of inspiration on the plane and I wrote some great stuff for act three. No. No, it wasn’t just me thinking it’s great because I popped some melatonin and got really sleepy. It’s like, legit. Yeah, I’ll send it over as soon as I get home and–”

Derek slammed into something. If he’d been holding his phone in his hand (bluetooth is a blessing when you drop stuff easily) it would have launched across the airport. As it was, his post-flight latte was soaking through the nice white shirt of the handsome stranger in front of him.

“Shit,” the stranger said, looking down to survey the damage.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have trusted myself to make a phone call and not be clumsy after such a long flight,” Derek said. He set his briefcase down and pulled a wad of napkins out of the outside pocket. The guy took a deep breath, going from murderous to calm in a few seconds. 

“I wasn’t looking where I was going either, it’s not your fault,” the guy said, setting down his own briefcase and accepting the napkins. He blotted at his shirt.

“Let me pay for the dry cleaning. Or a replacement,” Derek offered. The man shook his head.

“It’s fine, it probably needed to go to the cleaners anyways.” He checked his watch. “If I run, I can probably get a new one before my meeting.” He wadded the napkins into one big ball, picked up his briefcase, and walked towards the exit with a terse nod. Derek, feeling terrible about the whole thing, picked up his own briefcase and walked to baggage claim.

By the time he was reunited with his home office, a cozy bookshelf-lined room in his brownstone, he had almost forgotten about the coffee incident. He was focused on sending the manuscript to Cheryl. Unfortunately, that was going to be difficult, considering he pulled a PC laptop out of the bag instead of his Mac.

Derek stared at the computer for a full minute. He almost couldn’t believe that this was happening to him. Hesitantly, he opened the laptop. On one side of the keyboard there was a weird thing that a few seconds of phone googling told him was a fingerprint scanner. Shit. He hit the space bar experimentally. Something flashed on the screen, and then was replaced with just a plain black screen with red text: ACCESS DENIED

Derek swore. He started to look through the rest of what was in the briefcase, but was disappointed to find it empty except for the laptop’s charger, three packs of gum, and receipts from a lobster shack in Maine. Shit. Nothing in here would tell him anything about the redhead he’d launched a latte at. 

He closed the laptop dejectedly, ignored his editor’s text messages, and went into the kitchen to make himself lunch and feel sorry for himself. This was the universe punishing him for covering a cute guy with coffee. If he had just kept his focus and waited to call his editor later, he could have sent the draft along and saved it and not be desperately trying to remember his inspiration.

Just as the self-pity spiral was really taking off, the doorbell rang. Derek sighed, put down his tea, and walked to the door. When he opened it, it wasn’t Girl Scouts or Jehovah’s Witnesses, but the guy from the airport.

“Cancel whatever you’re doing today, I need to teach you the most basic principles of digital security,” the guy said, pushing past Derek into the dining room. He shoved a stack of papers onto a chair and pulled Derek’s laptop out.

“I’m Will, by the way, I make software that’s hopefully a step ahead of viruses.”

“Is the draft still there?”

“The draft of what?” The guy looked confused.

“My third act breakthrough. I’m a novelist, I need to get it to my editor and I couldn’t remember if I saved it,” Derek explained.

“You know you can set up an auto-save every five minutes or so, right?” Will asked.

“This might be surprising to you, but I’ve never had a cute guy storm into my house and yell at me about computers before.” Will looked up from Derek’s computer, blushing.

“I haven’t had a cute guy dump a gallon of coffee all over me and steal my laptop before, either, but here we are.”

“Maybe you can yell about computers over lunch with me?”

3. Zimbits

Button downs. Tank tops. Slacks. Shorts. Three rolling pins. A pie tin. A half-emptied multipack of sharpies.

No lucky puck. No clothes in his size. No jerseys.

Jack sighed. It would just be too much to ask for anything to go well today. He picked up his phone to call someone with the Falconers, in the hope that they could talk to the airline and sort all this out. At the same time, his phone lit up with Tater’s face.

“Zimmboni! Look on twitter. Small internet baker has your suitcase!” Tater hung up before he could reply, so Jack just opened twitter instead. 

omgcheckplease: A bunch of pucks, some dirty jerseys, and a history textbook. Either I’m back in college or this isn’t my suitcase.

omgcheckplease: .@falcsofficial please tell your #1 player to DM me and come get his shit

omgcheckplease: and @falcsofficial tell him to give me my shit back. my hockey days are in the past, I need rolling pins, not a mouthguard

Jack smiled and laughed in the way a person laughs when they’re alone, just blowing more air than normal out of his nose. He looked through the twitter for a minute– the guy, Eric Bittle, was a Providence-based chef, whose latest tweets were mostly greetings to the various cities he’d been visiting on tour. Jack clicked the media tab on the account, and looked through the pictures. Bittle was cute. He wrote a reply.

zimmboni: .@omgcheckplease how do I send u a DM

omgcheckplease: .@zimmboni you don’t deserve to be verified, oh my god #verifybittle2k17

A few seconds later another notification popped up, and he tapped it to be brought to a DM window.

omgcheckplease: hey! sorry about the mixup. I can only imagine how confused you were to find all my book tour stuff.

zimmboni: Probably as confused as you were finding hockey stuff?

omgcheckplease: I wasn’t joking in my tweets, I did play hockey before I got into the whole cookbook/food show thing

zimmboni: Exactly, I did a book tour last year in the off-season :-)

omgcheckplease: oh my gosh, isn’t it the best and the worst?

zimmboni: I know. It’s great to meet people and talk about your work, but it’s exhausting.

omgcheckplease: that’s why I’m so excited to be back in Providence! at least until the next cookbook.

zimmboni: Well we should probably meet up to trade suitcases. Want to meet somewhere for dinner?

omgcheckplease: don’t trust me to learn where your house is?

zimmboni: I mean, if dinner goes well enough…

omgcheckplease: OH. okay, then, Mr. Zimmermann, it’s a date.

Jack smiled to himself, and got ready for his date.

9

Hyper Projection Engeki Haikyuu - Winners and Losers

Several former cast mates went to go see the press viewing on opening day!  Visitors included Arai Shou (Aone), Kimura Atsushi (Futakuchi), Hirono Ryouta (Sakunami), Hashimoto Zen’itsu (Kamasaki), and Gotou Takeru (Yaku)!  

All of them were impressed by the new show and wish the current cast the best of luck!

@mcl-volleyball @llamakoernchen @irakoy

The moment she walked in, everyone was loath. They´ve all seen the scene on the schoolyard. She didn´t catched the ball. It flew right into her face. The bruise was still visible. But when she walked onto the field she looked poised.
“What the heck is SHE doin here?”, Kim whispered. Chelsea shruged her shoulders. They went to their positions and the game started.
There wasn´t much movement first. Everythign went like always. Chelsea made some kills and the opponent team was already mad.
Suddenly the ball flew staight in Shaes direction. Her teammates held their breath and tear opened their eyes. But Shaelene was serene and with one quick jump she smashed the ball right into the other teams field and it hit the floor directly.
Everyone was shocked.
“NICE SERV!”, shouted Mr. Boris.
“What was THAT?”, asked Irma.
“Never underestimate someone you don´t know”, Shaelene said and blew a kiss to the rival team.

Happy pride month ft A hobi in which The Sketch Was Cute But I Fucked It Up

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I found out that “haikyuu all spikes” was a popular search term so I’m jumping on that now. Share this with people who have half an hour to waste.