#sidrae

[vctyrea]

“     hey,     keiji─     can  you  hold  this?      ”     it’s  her  hand.     isn’t  she  so  clever.         /        @sidrae​

[disrupht]

              “   AKAASHI-SAAAAAAN!    ”                   just listen to that vocal rebound!         it’s the unmistakable carry of shoyo’s hollering,  hitting all the bare spots on the walls   &     bouncing around  like…            like…           echo-something-something-whatever!        it doesn’t matter!         the loud,  unabashed exclamation of his excitement is important,   so to those that were covering their ears against the screech of his call,          well━━

they could just get over it!          shoyo has a mission,   a really super important big-big-big mission that really could make or break his future as  the  greatest  volleyball  player  to  ever  exist   &━━           it all starts with fukurodani’s setter,  of course.       (if every other volleyball player had a brain,  or were on par with shoyo’s overabundant genius-ness,  they would start there too!)           “   AKAASHI-SAN,   AKAASHI-SAN,  CAN  YOU  COME  OVER  HERE  FOR  A  MOMENT!     ”        @sidrae​​​​   !

[disrupht]

        “    ehhhhh?!     ”       oh man,   akaashi’s saying something,   wasn’t he?                 probably saying something suuuuuuuper important,   probably something so important that kotaro oughta look like he was listening,   right?       (RIGHT!)      because practice had started like,  maybe,  five minutes ago,   (who knows,  not him,  because he wasn’t paying any attention…  legs itching to get on the court   and   feet slipping this way and that way and this way again with the urge to jump,   like really high,   he could definitely jump the highest he’s ever jumped today.     he can feel it!      so,   yeah,   sue him for not giving any focus),   and    he knows that akaashi always has something to say that makes practice go smoothly.       he’s so━━     cool and smart like that! 

        but!        that’s just not right.         it’s really bad that he hasn’t heard anything he’s been saying,   feels bad about it,   because akaashi’s nice,   and patient,   and kotaro likes that he’s nice and patient and barely lets his frustrations out when kotaro does things unlike others on the court.       (he tries to glare at konoha over his shoulder but his excitement gets ahead of him   and  now there’s a twinge in his neck instead…)       massaging at the now sore spot near his shoulder,   kotaro attempts to pull his concentration back to his nice-smart-patient vice captain.       “    um,   sorry aka’shi,   can you repeat that?       i was for sure listening,   promise!       i just forgot to…   hear you,   yeah!!   ”       @sidrae​

[deckofclubs]

daichi normally can handle the chaos of when multiple teams getting together, having to wrangle his own team mates and keep them in line. he tended to have to bet the voice of reason of the group, and stop some of the more rambunctious members from getting into fights or offending other teams too much. but every once in a while he needs a little pocket of air to breathe and cool off, and clear his head. he has a lot of appreciation for some of the more chill, less loud members of the other teams. he can appreciate akaashi’s demeanor. he knows that he gets what it feels like having to reign in larger personalities. 

he’s just taking a moment of reprieve, finding himself in a quieter corner and seeking akaashi out for some different energy levels. ‘ they’re so noisy, aren’t they ? ‘ he gives a good natured smile, rubbing the back of his neck. ‘ do you ever lose your patience like i do ? ‘ 

@sidrae​

[pridewon]

@sidrae​ said:  " nodding off... " haru and agnès thank u very much (sleepy meme)

For somebody who likes to swim so little, Agnès has always found a peculiar charm to water. When conjuring memories of her childhood home in Miyagi, she recalls her father’s workshop, and the hills behind it, and the clear water streams running in sinews at the foot of the trees whose company she’d keep. She remembers dipping her bare feet in the current, looking at the distortion of flesh and rocks and soil beneath through the water and staring for hours without ever getting bored.

The sea is a new companion she has yet to tame, but that she finds equally compelling. In the turmoil of new life, new places, new people, she has grown fond of the new experience that comes with observing the current, instead of steady streams; of the glitter of shards of mirror when the sunlight hits the waves as they break or roll onto the shore. If she were to reach out into the water, perhaps she could grasp at one of them; seize it in the cusp of her palm. For now, though, it is in the lens of her camera that she is trying to catch it; the apparatus resting on in her lap after a few first attempts, guided by Haru’s quiet pointers (this is the best point // this is where the water looks best).

They sit on a bench by the beach, facing the endless sea stretching to the horizon, and Agnès has lost track of when either she or Haru have said a word. He is a quiet one, that boy; full of silent murmurs and absent gazes -- until he absorbs himself in his latest artistic adventure, she gathers. Agnès likes to watch all things, and she likes to watch Haru, whenever he stops by the shop. From behind her counter, grey eyes follow and peek as he peruses through whatever it is that he needs this time, or when he sits and slouches over the workbench to try out something new. He never says much, and that is fine by her - she has never been much of a talker either, but there is something of a language, maybe, in the muted spark that lights up when he busies his hands with wood sculpture or whatever else takes his fancy. 

He doesn’t say much now either - and a light weight suddenly pressing down on her shoulder soon explains why, Agnès blinking out of her thought to glance at the shock of raven hair spilling over her coat. See. Haru is so quiet, she hadn’t even realised he was falling asleep. For a moment, she hesitates; should she move, would she wake him up, startle him like a bird from rattled branch? 

No - that wouldn’t do at all. She values her own tranquility too much to ruin that of another; especially that of someone who, she has sometimes caught herself thinking, never seems... quite at home, quite settled, quite attached, like an anchor set loose. Grey eyes fall to his hands, to the sketchbook threatening to slip from his laxed grip; slowly (veeery slowly) she reaches and takes the precious sketchpad to secure it in her own lap, under the camera; and, after checking that he is still breathing peacefully, lets her head tilt to the side, her cheek press light against his hair.

They can stay here a little while longer, under high blues skies and open space. There is no rush for anyone to go anywhere.

[godefineda]

      i face the stars           and       seek brotherhood .  lost and sea cast with currents mistaken for love.  leaving a moth filled tongue to fight its way through the light . and i find that    there are  missing parts inside of me .  an entire system   void of comfort ,    eating at a                FAIRY   TALE           and  i  cut the  image of him from  my  eyes    for tonight and  i think  to           grab the stars between my fingers    and for a moment i forget where i am .          and  i find myself  asleep  washed of  the cool night air and grabbed    in between           prayer and  salvation.             eating  myself down to  coded  vocable   making the night     a processed                   SAVE HAVEN.     *    @sidrae​       

[seai]

                                “        time is still on our side,     so i don't want you to say,       ‘   someday,     we'll forget about today.    ‘       “                  aoi shiori,         @sidrae