No matter how hard he works, no matter how hard he tries, there has always been this insurmountable wall.
An obstacle that he just cannot overcome.
He attends every practice.
He polishes his skills with intense, hard work.
He pushes through the pain, through the straining muscles and heavy lungs.
He refuses to give up, even when they lose year after year.
Every year there is the hope - next year, we’ll get them.
There’s always a next year.
A next time…
This loss is final. The end. Their last chance, in their last year of high school, to finally snag victory-
But they couldn’t do it.
And Hajime, as the ace?
He has his chance, his opportunity to score the winning point - but he can’t do it.
His spike is picked up and Seijou ultimately loses.
The knowledge that he has held them back is almost more than he can take.
He keeps his brave face up. He barely lets himself feel - forcing himself to dry his eyes and stand next to his team while they shake hands. It feels robotic, it feels forced, but he can’t lose it here.
Not in front of his teammates. He just can’t.
It isn’t until he’s finally alone in the privacy of his room that he really allows himself to feel.
He can’t even bring himself to take off his uniform. He just collapses on his bed, breathes in deep, and cries.
No, he doesn’t cry - he bawls. He shakes, trembling, curling himself up into the tiniest ball imaginable. He can’t even remember the last time he’s cried like this. Everything hurts.
He chokes down sobs, trying to quiet himself, but it’s to no avail. He vaguely remembers that it doesn’t matter - his parents are out of town, so nobody is gonna come and find him - but it’s only a fleeting thought. He cries until his vision is fuzzy, his head hurts and his throat burns, heavy from the effort of trying to force in breaths. He’s still trembling, but he doesn’t register any of it.
All he’s thinking about are the plays.
The plays he failed to make that day.
Did he play alright? Maybe. But he can’t help himself; he sees all the ways in which he could have jumped higher, hit harder, been better-
It’s frustrating. He’s angry, he’s sad - he’s a complicated mess of emotions, none of which he can begin to understand while focusing so hard on where he’s sure he has failed.
He has no idea how much time has passed before the throbbing in his head starts to alleviate. His body starts to relax and he sighs, quietly, feeling a warmth settling into his face.
He hears a voice, but it sounds far away.
It sounds kind of like his name, but he can’t really be bothered to listen. He feels pressure on his temples, small but firm, rubbing away the tension there.
He feels like he can finally, breathe, finally move, so he cracks his eyes open. His vision is hazy, but he recognizes the person sitting on the edge of his bed almost immediately. A heavy weight settles in his stomach as he realizes he’s been caught.
He tries to sit up but his whole body rejects that idea, pain seeping through his muscles. He winces, and those hands massaging his forehead move to his chest, pushing him back down.
Hajime chances a look up and he doesn’t see Tooru looking at him with pity. No, rather, it’s something else entirely… something gentle. Something vulnerable.
Tooru bites his lip; he presses himself a little closer, a hand running through Hajime’s hair, pushing the dark strands out of his face. His thumb brushes against his forehead, before he leans in and presses a slow, gentle kiss right in that spot.
“It’s okay,” he says, and his voice is so soft. “It’s okay, Hajime. I’m here. I’ve got you…” He huffs a breath, his hand continuing to move through Hajime’s hair, massaging his scalp. The action is soothing, and Hajime finds himself relaxing, body slowly uncurling from where he’d been tightly wound on his side.
Tooru doesn’t stop there. He continues massaging his scalp, but his other hand continues his ministrations on his temples. Once he’s satisfied there, he lets his fingers continue their exploration, searching out the tense muscles in Hajime’s neck and shoulders, pressing into them until Hajime heaves out a sigh of relief.
The trembling stops. He stops thinking about what he’s done wrong. Instead, he focuses on the warm feeling of Tooru touching him. It’s the same warm feeling as he feels when they’re out there, together, on the court-
“Hajime,” Tooru’s voice breaks him out of his thoughts, “You know, it’s like you always say. There are six people out there on that court. We all played together. We win together… and we lose together.” He feels the hands halt their movements. The bed dips, and Tooru climbs in, settling in behind Hajime.
“You made me so proud today,” Tooru tells him, his breath hot against the back of Hajime’s neck. “You’re strong. You’re capable. You’re the best damn ace we could have ever asked for.”
Hajime doesn’t have to ask for it; Tooru just knows. He wraps his arm around Hajime’s waist, pressing their bodies flush together.
“Don’t ever think otherwise, and don’t try and hide from me, okay?” Tooru punctuates this with a kiss to the back of his neck. “I love you.”
Hajime’s vision blurs again, but this time he’s not alone.
He lets Tooru stay, brushing away his tears, kissing him, holding him. Loving him.
He lets Tooru stay and he lets himself feel everything that he needs to.
And the next morning, as Hajime wakes up, the warm weight at his back and the fingers tangled with his remind him that he’s not alone.
These obstacles might be a challenge, but they’re not one that he’s facing alone.
“WINNER exhibited tasteful suits in this collection. The monotone or colorful suits create a classy yet modern look. By choosing suits with different number of buttons, each member contributes to creating a witty ambience to the suits that one could deem dull. TAEHYUN looks young and classy as he fully buttons up his shirt inside the three-button suit while going tieless. JINWOO creates a classic and vintage look by wearing a tie to go with his navy three-button suit. The three-button suit that used to belong to middle-aged men was reborn as a classy one through WINNER. By wearing different colored tinted shirts, SEUNGYOON and MINHO stand on the opposite ends of the spectrum. SEUNGYOON’s green suit is funky while MINHO’s navy one is masculine. The materials stand out as well. SEUNGHOON’s suit jacket that uses different material to the collar makes him powerfully individualistic.”
He smiles a small, warm smile to him as he feels his hair being stroked. He was honestly so happy to be here with Aoba.
Even if they’ve been together for so long, it still felt like the first time because of the new body. They can truly experience new things with one another, new sensations, feelings, and memories. He would cherish every moment spent together, every single one.
“ I’m happy to be here with you Aoba…I’m truly happy to have finally be able to hold you in my arms and spend this time with you. “
He was so happy…so happy just to be here with Aoba. This was all such bliss.
oh, you wanna simply accept us just cause we’ve admitted you? you’ll need to pay the $300 fee even though we know that you’ve paid that $70 fee just to apply to our school
and wait, you trying to submit a housing contract? you’ll have to pay this $300 fee, and wait, are you a freshman? let’s had this extra $50 fee to the pile
are you ready to apply for classes? yeah, let’s go, it’s orientation time! but hey, you know you’ll need to pay $102 right? since you’ll be staying for ONE night and we’ll be feeding you
oh, and for a year at our school, you’ll need $10K for tuition, $10K for room and board, and don’t forget the books, that be another like $1K, and of course you’ll need to eat…that requires money, so good luck!
Pun and Flower had an argument and one of them is trying to stay mad and not cry. You pick. :)
“Ugh! What is this feeling? I hate it…”. Flowey growled and crossed his leaves, the closest things he had to arms.
Sans had been reckless again and again he had blown up at him about it. That was the biggest fight they had ever had and Flowey had been stupid, shouting at him and throwing a glass off the table. He knew he was being foolish but he could’t let it show. He felt like he had to hold onto the idea that he was right, it was a matter of pride.
Then…what was this feeling crawling all over him? Why did he feel like he had a pit in his roots?
He shuddered, tried to swallow, couldn’t get anything down. The world seemed even darker than usual. What was this nagging him?
That look on Sans’ face….before he stormed out of the room….thinking about it made his roots hurt.
He slowly mulled it over, trying to dissect it. Sans was hurt, more hurt than Flowey had ever seen him before. Sans had gone to the bed room, shut the curtain behind him with the definitive force normally used on doors.
What if he was packing up his things?
What if he was leaving out the back of their small home?
Sans….wouldn’t leave him…would he?
The pain worsened, that shuddering was back. This was fear!
More than that, this feeling was remorse and it was heavy and oppressive.
Flowey’s breathing hitched, hiccuped, he was crying.
Stars…why? Why had he been so foolish? Why had he been so violent? He held himself, tears dropping into his planter. He had been so stupid!
“Flowey…?” The flower jerked up, wiping his eyes as fast as he could when. He heard Sans call for him. The little skeleton had a book in his hands and the small red hand broom.
“S-Sans, I-” he tried to explain, apologize, anything.
“Flowey, please. I… I wanted to say I’m sorry. You were right, that was very careless of me, I should have been more careful. I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”
“Sans, no, I should be apologizing! I did so much wrong! I yelled, I threw a cup on the floor! I…I wouldn’t blame you if you left me…” that sinking feeling was back.
“Baby, it’s ok. I forgive you, you were just worried and I escalated things. Can you forgive me for yelling back?” Sans was lifting him gently from his planter and held him close against the warm cream colored sweater the skeleton wore.
“You idiot, of course I forgive you, I’m just pissed at myself….” he nuzzled against his lover’s skull and Sans chuckled at how it tickled.
“Come on, hold the dustpan and help me sweep up this mess.”
you know when your otp is so fucked but you have got that ONE scene were you’re convinced they are totaly in love so you rewatched it over and over again analysing their every move to prove to yourself they are canon like , where is his hand? ohhh totally touching her more-than-her-friend-way, LOOK AT THE EYE CONTACT YOU MIGHT AS WELL LOOK PUT SOME PROTECTION ON RIGHT NOW CAUSE YOU ARE HAVING THE EYE SEX THEIR EYES HAVE BANGED I REPEAT THEIR EYES HAVE HAD THE SEX
“Can you imagine a nicer Christmas present for Heaven than for Dean Martin to enter through the Pearly Gates on Christmas Day?”
I know there are many people out there like myself who today are thinking about this man. And even though it’s Christmas there’s kindof a lingering sadness that we lost such a great man on what’s supposed to be such a joyous day. I know it’s pointless saying don’t cry (there never stopped anyone, did it?) but we must celebrate his life and the fact that he lived and we can enjoy him whenever we please. He means a great deal to me personally and that’s why I’ll toast to his spirit today. To a wonderful man, not exactly perfect but wonderful all the same. We miss you today more than any other. And we love you always.
Dino Paul Crocetti 7th June 1917 - 25th December 1995 +