Standing In The Yard, Dressed Like A Kid. The House Is White And The Lawn Is Dead. The Lawn Is Dead,

Standing in the yard, dressed like a kid. The house is white and the lawn is dead. The lawn is dead, the lawn is dead.

Synopsis : timeskip!Kita could only wish things turned out differently, so you and him could sit by the porch, watching the wheat grows together. Although, sometimes, things doesn't last long.

wc : 584

-> timeskip!Kita x reader

-> a loss of reader due to terminal illness, reader in the hospital. kita grieving over reader's death. angst w no happy ending.

A/N : i honestly do not remember who made the divider, but credit to them! Also thanks c.ai, for giving me ideas!!

Gentle hugs and hand-holding while cackling together is something Kita Shinsuke values very much, especially when it comes to you, his lover. Whenever you would get out from the door to the porch just to give him a helping hand, he refuses most of the time. But knowing how stubborn you are, he will let you do your thing, under his instructions, of course.

Besides, Kita Shinsuke loves the smiles and the giggles that you both share while helping him out on his farm, a quiet and peaceful life that he wouldn't trade for anything.

You are his world, forever.

But sometimes things do not go our way, including Kita.

...

Is it your soul laying by his side, or just your body? Long awaiting for you to wake up, to escape from this nightmare. Yet, eventually, you'll wave him goodbye. Either it be a short goodbye or none, but it's better than nothing.

The sounds of your unstable breathing, the coldness of the hospital—or is it just him feeling numb and the way your body doesn't radiate warmth anymore?

If only, maybe once again, you would squeeze his hand when he keeps your cold hand in his. Within the warmth Kita used to give, as you initiated too, was replaced by an emptiness, loneliness, and numbness that he dislikes, hates. At least, give him some pity, would you? On his knees, praying to God to give you some time so he could just see the smile he craved for before replacing it with a lifeless expression of yours.

Kita had known your lifespan was short since the doctor had informed him about it. But can't God put mercy on you? Can't he hear your voice once again? To see your grin, to savor the sweetness of you giving all of your affection towards him.

In addition, it wasn't getting any better, and Kita is aware of that. By your side, he had sat on the chair, leaning against the side of your body—while you kept laying on the hospital bed. The railing of the bed was cold, an unwelcoming coldness, merely to remind Kita that you won't be with him. In the end, you'll be buried, and he could only sit by your grave, hoping things turned out differently.

The pleading, begging, holding you close to him so you will hear him. So you wouldn't leave him, so you would just tease him that you will stay by his side. Yet, your soul wasn't there anymore. It was long gone.

As he quietened down his cries, knowing that it'd be pointless. Because at last, he couldn't do anything expect to accept the grief.

A reminder for him to stop trying, to let you go.

...

Rummaging, or more like cleaning your things out. If you were there, he'd probably tell you to put your things in order, and you'd give him an "I'll do it later, Shin!" expression. Although this time, it's him doing it for you, like always.

Yet, there are no more sounds of whining and telling him not to throw away the old belongings of yours that you find oddly valuable; he never gets why. But he supposes he'll keep it safe and sound, just for you.

Putting your things in a few boxes. Since it would be safer, he wouldn't want to damage them. Hanging a picture of Kita and you together on the table, decorating it with your pictures and his. Dedicated to you, Shinsuke's lover.

Maybe in another universe, Kita wishes to hear your "I love you, Shin!" or perhaps that you'll stick by his side forever, mentally and physically.

And when the rice finally blooms. Usually, you and Kita makes rice cakes together; playful banter and all. But now, Kita supposedly he'll make it alone, in the kitchen that filled with silence.in somewhat way, he wishes you'll come behind his back and maybe cheer him up, like you always do.

Yet, it'll stay as a bittersweet memories.

Making rice cakes alone wasn't fun, especially when the tears shedding from Kita's eyes, as he sobs quietly.

mumbling 'I miss you.' between his sobs.

Hello

I hope my message finds you safe

I would be really grateful if you could help me by donating to save me and my family from the dangers of war and death in Gaza and escape to a safe place.

We can't bear this injustice and fear. We have endured 10 months of suffering, humiliation, destruction and escaping death. No one asks about us. We are dying here in public, and there is nothing now to survive.

Please share, repost or donate to my family 🙏

https://gofund.me/b60fb34d

^^

we fly together | kageyama tobio x reader

in which kageyama tobio is born for several things: the court, his team, and you. and he really, really wants to marry you.

wc: 766 | gn reader | little glimpses of your relationship with tobio over the years

There are several givens in Kageyama Tobio’s life. 

There’s volleyball. It’s in his blood. Volleyball is shoes squeaking on floors, the shrill of a whistle, Nikuman after practice, and that sweet, sweet feeling of connection– fingers brushing yellow and blue leather and palms aching after a serve. Kageyama Tobio was born for the court and born to fly. 

His team is one of them. There’s Sugawara, who still treats him to yakitori and an Asahi Dry (or three) whenever he’s back in Miyagi. Daichi sends him assorted nuts from Sendai every once in a while and Nishinoya mass e-mails him slightly blurry pictures of his life abroad on New Years. Ushijima buys electrolytes for him and Kourai. Shouyou is, well, Shouyou, and Kageyama counts him as two givens. 

There’s the small things too: he takes a little too long to read Kanji, he buys a new face wash every month, he will always avoid rush hour. 

And then, he thinks, there’s you. 

It hits him in full force in the middle of the street on a Tuesday evening as he holds a plastic bag of groceries. It also, consequently, renders him immobile for ten minutes, because Tobio had never been one to dwell on the givens. But as he stands on the pavement and his bag carries the burden of hashi for two, yogurt for two, two packs of sandwiches and four bags of gummies,

 ( because you really like those gummies: and Tobio had thought, if you like the grape flavor, then you should also try the strawberry. And if you wanted to try something new, you might crave the fizzy Cola ones. And if you liked the Cola ones, then he had to buy the Ramune flavored ones, too ) 

Tobio gets the urge to buy a ring. And an urge, no, a craving to marry you. 

Tobio remembers study sessions in high school and desperate makeouts in Karasuno’s dusty storage closet. He remembers the firsts: first conversation, first fight, first kiss, first date. Sprinting on beaches before the sun kissed the horizon and laying underneath the stars. He remembers graduation under cherry blossoms and pressing his second button into your palm with red cheeks and shaking hands. 

There were tears, too. Anger as he realized he couldn’t, for once, be selfish and have both you and professional volleyball. Anger as you had cried and cried and cried in his arms because you were getting your degree in Miyagi and he was moving to Tokyo. Anger as you had suggested breaking things off because you knew that Kageyama was born for the court. To fly. 

And you had said, between tears, that Tokyo was his potential. Because you knew him, and you knew that he didn’t like texting and that he wasn’t good at communicating, but you somehow underestimated how much you meant to him. Then: you had stopped crying because Kageyama was crying. And you had never seen Kageyama cry. 

You were there when Kageyama started on the National Team, standing in the bleachers with the biggest smile he had ever seen, jumping as you turned to show him the Kageyama embroidered on the back of your jersey. You were there when he accepted his position on the Adlers, and watched their broadcasted games behind textbooks and journals and pencils from your dorm in Sendai. 

Kageyama was there when you called him sobbing because the pipes in your dorm leaked. He was there when you got fired from your part time job for slapping a customer. Begrudgingly, he was there when you asked him to have Oikawa Tooru sign twelve jerseys for your friends at university. And then, he was there when you graduated college, diploma in hand and a blush on your cheeks as you pressed your button into his palm even though you really weren’t supposed to do that. 

Now you’re in Tokyo, having accepted his slightly bashful request for you to move in with him– in a nice apartment on the fourteenth floor overlooking the city; because even though he didn’t really like heights, he knew you loved city lights and people-watching. And if he had to cover his face when he saw the nameplate next to your shared apartment that read Kageyama, well. You didn’t have to know that. 

He’s still on the street, and he’s still holding his grocery bag, but his eyes are firm because he really wants to make your last name Kageyama. 

So he makes a phone call. 

“Tanaka-san,” He says before his former upperclassman can react. “Where did you buy Shimizu’s ring?” 

how do u write so clearly and simple yet so beautiful? genuinely asking

OMG STOPPP tysm for enjoying my writing !!! bro actually i’ve been hearing a lot of comments and reblogs saying my writing style is simple yet detailed (?) which is such a compliment but also like i lowkey had no idea bcuz i don’t really know what my writing comes off as to other people ???? if that makes sense ??? ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

but here’s some tips/habits i’ve noticed i use when i’m writing:

keep it simple !! when i first started writing i was so obsessed with trying to make my writing “better” than it actually was — the absolute tip top tier of perfection that looked like this — google searching pretty and fancy words as well as synonyms for simple words. my search history would be all synonyms for laugh or synonyms for happy and the piece would just end up feeling so stiff and devoid of any writing style or voice

reading back on my old writing, sometimes it’s so obvious i had no fucking clue what those words meant !! so trust yourself- trust that what you already know works great— and sometimes less is more

speaking of less is more— a lot of times, i tend to glaze over a lot of minute details n stuff in my fics. this is obviously just preference: some authors describe everything and it turns out great. but i kinda like focusing less on the constant details and more on the overarching ideas??

for example, something like this:

osamu wakes up and blinks at the ceiling blah blah blah and rubs his eyes. he gets out of bed and pulls his shirt on blah blah and leaves the house to walk to the corner store with an umbrella. on the way he looks at the purple flowers and his shoes. when he gets in the store he thinks about buying some bread and butter

would actually look like this:

when osamu wakes up, the only thing on his mind is sweet bread and butter from that corner store down the street— the one with the purple flowers.

lmk if u guys want more ??? tips ? i was about to write some more but Idk if u all want that LMFAOOAOA

I'm smitten for sunshine and positive vibes guys, no one can tell me otherwise bc i melt on the spot seeing those bright smile babes.