Tumgik
#those marbled backgrounds are papers i marbled myself :]!! the green and orange one was made Specifically bc i was thinking of de LOL
concord-and-cliches · 4 months
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they're just two normal guys, probably
(you can find them over at my bigcartel [x] if you're interested!!)
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honeyatsu · 3 years
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Loner (Junpei x F!Reader)
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Reader implied POC! but ofc anyone can read <3
warnings: none that I can think of
Summary: 
Junpei was suspicious of you. He always felt the world was filled with people who were naturally evil in some way, until you came into his life and challenged his theory.
masterlist
Spotify playlist - all the songs I listened to helping me write this story. lmao and songs that helped inspire some parts. Think of it as an unorganized soundtrack. 
AO3
a/n: Hiii. He deserved better. I was rewatching and got mad all over again. The first time I saw his character arch I almost threw the whole show away lmfao but I can’t wait to continue the manga during summer! There wasn’t enough content so I decided to make some. 
The familiar dark marble floors were all Junpei would keep his eyes on as he walked to his next class, the chatter of his fellow classmates bouncing around the walls acting as background noise he would attempt to mentally cancel out. Junpei didn’t bother to look anyone in the eye, it’s not as if he had anyone to look forward to seeing anyways truthfully. High school was supposed to be a place where the best memories were made, but Junpei couldn’t relate to those empty promises of those being his best years. Everyday feeling as if there was a target on his back for his unfriendly peers; he would do his best to hide within the shadows he felt comfortable in, doing his best to make himself as invisible as possible. His only goal was being to survive the day without being bothersome to others.
Just as before, staring at the ground and ignoring the chatter going on in the classroom he made his way to the conjoined desk in the back of the room. He sat on the desk and began pulling out the material, his first time raising his head during the day to scan the room, everyone but one other person having a sitting partner. It didn’t sting him that he was sitting alone, that’s how things usually went for him. He was either alone or ostracized, finding being alone the better option of the two.
As the teacher began to lecture about the importance of being prepared for the advanced chemistry class, Junpei began to scribble down in his notebook taking notes already. His eyes didn’t leave his notepad until he heard the large bang of the classroom door hitting the wall.
“I’m sorry for being late!” you screamed while bowing to the class, panting and catching your breath with your hands now holding on to your knees. It was easy to tell that you ran to class and still managed to be notably late.
The teachers rolled her eyes at you, unfazed by your obnoxious entrance in the classroom. “Just choose a seat.” She scowled before returning to the beginnings of her lecture.
Your eyes scanned the room before you noticed the empty spot in the combined desk in the back, you didn’t even look at the person who would be sitting beside you, you just knew you wanted the desk farthest away from the front to prevent being called on during class.
Junpei on the other hand cursed himself as he saw you rush to the seat next to him; he knew that the seat was your target as soon as he noticed your eyes land on it. He recognized who you were, he knew who your friends were. Why would you sit next to him? What was your plan, to mock him? His heart was beating rapidly the closer you got, his palms began sweating. He doesn’t know if he can manage being picked on in class, he has never had a personal interaction with you but what made you different from your friends?
You rushed your way to your seat and began to drag the items from your bag onto the desk. Your elbow accidentally bumped into the classmate next to you, the physical action causing a small yelp from the boy. You finally turn to see him, the first thing you noticed were his eyes, they were the kind of green that would kiss over the ground during the beginning of spring time, probably the prettiest green eyes you’ve ever seen. His hair was brown and reached his shoulders, with one bang large enough to cover the right side of his face. You were too enchanted by his appearance that it took you a while to see how uncomfortable he was. His body was slightly trembling as your elbow was still making physical contact with him, his eyes slightly widened, he wasn’t even trying to hide how uncomfortable he was with the accidental physical reaction along with you staring at him as if he had three heads.
“Sorry.” You whispered to him removing your elbow from his side and looking down at your stationary materials, organizing them on the desk. From the corner of your eyes you can see him looking down at his desk, his body was stiff, and you could tell he was still uncomfortable. “If me sitting here bothers you, I’ll move…. it’s just this is a hard class and I don’t want to be called on all the time and embarrass myself.” You turn to face him and see that he still isn’t looking at you. “But please put up with me. I promise I won’t distract you.”
His eyes perked up while hearing your last sentence, he didn’t expect you to have such a kind and sincere tone. He finally brought his head up, slighting turning his head to face you. He couldn’t point out where he’s seen eyes like yours before, and he saw the small smile formed on your lips. People have smiled at him before and he can usually tell how people are feeling by looking at their eyes. He was good at reading people, he had to be just to survive. But he couldn’t read you, he couldn’t tell how you were feeling towards him. He doesn’t remember the last time someone showed him any sort of sincerity.
“No…it’s fine. You can sit here.” He managed to whisper out while looking back down scribbling down some notes.
Fifteen minutes went by, the class slowly dragging out and it being harder to focus. Junpei’s head was starting to feel heavy, he didn’t regain complete focus until he noticed the ink getting lighter on his notebook. He scribbled fast and hard, trying to get ink out before realizing it was completely dry. He cursed himself in his head, his day just starting and already something had to go wrong. Hearing the sound of rough scribbling on the paper your eyes darted to his side, seeing the pen drag only putting scratches on the sheet.
His head turned towards you out of curiosity, hearing the aggressive rustling from you digging in your bag. Your eyes focused and face scrunched up in concentration, your tongue slightly sticking out. He wanted to think you were cute, but he knew who your friends were, and that group was anything but cute. While he was deep in thought about how unfortunate it was that he already knew the type of person you were by your crowd, he almost missed the sense of accomplishment displayed on your face as you pulled out a packet of glitter pens. Your smile grew as you turned to him, realizing he was already looking at you. You were satisfied with the first instance of eye contact with your desk mate. He felt the heat rise to his cheeks; he didn’t need a mirror to know the red hues were forming on his face embarrassed with getting caught staring at you.
“These are my favorite pens.” You whispered to him, still looking at him not caring that he looked away for a second. “I only share these with my friends.” His eyes grew wide, were you going to rub in his face that his pen went out on him? What kind of teasing was this, for you to make fun of something so small? He was appalled that he knew he was right, you sat next to him just to -
“So, lets be good friends, okay?” You cut off his train of thought as you placed a dark blue glitter pen on his desk. He slowly turned to you, seeing the same smile on your face from earlier, the same smile he couldn’t quite read.
He nodded back at you nervously, his hands shaking as he grabbed the pen you placed onto his side of the desk. You nodded to him as you returned to focusing on the lesson, knowing his nod was his way of saying ‘thank you’ without speaking.
Junpei had trouble focusing on the rest of the lesson, hands still shaking while using the pen you let him borrow.
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Your body ached as you dragged yourself out of the school grounds. Cheer club just ended, and you were exhausted from learning the basics of it considering this would be your first time being in the cheer club. The sun was out still, slowly going down making the sky a mix of yellow, orange and red. The only thing you could think about was going home and hoping that your mom had left over food from the dinner the other day.
While walking to the direction of your house you noticed a boy with a slender build a few feet away from you, and once you saw the long bang you grew excited, recognizing him as the boy you sat next to in class. All the energy you lost regained quickly as you ran up to your new friend. “Hey!” You screamed as you ran into his back, tripping on the cracked ground while making your way towards him. You held on to his sides to prevent you from falling, his body tensed up at the sudden contact and you screaming at him.
His heart dropped, he thought he was able to go an entire day without being picked on. He was confused, he didn’t think you’d bother him too. He made sure to not get in anyways way today, he just wanted a day where he could be in the background and be left alone, but at the last moment of him being on his way home you appeared out of nowhere and ran into him. Were you trying to push him down? Did you get angry he never gave the pen back? Were you being kind to trick him before you finally got to pick on him like the rest of your friends?
“I’m sorry!” You squealed out. You removed your hands from his back and walked towards him, giving him a tired smile.
You apologized for hitting him, why did you apologize?
“Didn’t mean to run into you! I just left my club and saw you walking, I wanted to say hi. I’m sorry for making you uncomfortable, again.” You laughed out awkwardly. Junpei gave you a confused look. He was suspicious of you, what did you want from him for you to constantly acknowledge him unprovoked? Sure, he’ll let go of the class interaction. You guys were desk mates, you were probably being cordial. You lend him your pen because you noticed his ran out, unlike your friends you at least had common decency. But why would you come up to him outside of class? What could you possibly gain from talking to him outside of having to?
The pen. Once he remembered he never gave it back, he retrieved it from his pocket and brought it out, extending his hand out to give it to you. “I-I never said thank you. Here, you can have it back.”
Once you saw what he was trying to do you laughed at his actions, “I gave it to you silly. It’s yours to keep! I mean we’re friends after all, right?”
His breathe got caught in his throat, he felt unable to respond. He tried to find any signs of malice in your face but couldn’t find anything.
“Oh, right. I sound funny declaring friendship when I don’t even think I’ve given you my name! I’m y/n.” You said with a smile.
For the first time, he returned it back to you softly. “Junpei.”
You opened your mouth to say something back, but your next sentence was disrupted with a loud growl from your stomach. Your eyes widened in embarrassment as your squealed and brought your arms to your side, squeezing your stomach.
“Sorry!” you said quickly, “I just left my club. It was a lot of work today, my body is exhausted and I’m starved.”
Junpei laughed at your reaction, you smiled realizing you got another first from him today.
“Hey Junpei, are you busy?”
“Uhm, I was just going to walk home now…” he replied back to you softly.
“How about we get some ramen! I know this great place not too far from school. I was gonna eat at home, but there probably isn’t food anyways. And you’re here so I don’t gotta go alone! You’ll love it I promise, it’s so good.” You continued to ramble on. You didn’t even give Junpei a chance to respond to you before you grabbed his wrist and dragged him along to the direction of the ramen restaurant. You were walking in front of him as he was being dragged behind you, you were holding onto his wrist the entire way there. He was glad you didn’t get a chance to see his flustered face the entire way there.
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“You’re seriously not going to finish?” Your voice was muffled due to your cheeks being stuffed with the food in your mouth. It was hard not to stare at you while you were eating, he’s never seen a girl eat so aggressively or fast. You took a big swallow of the remaining food in your mouth, his eyes grew wide noticing your bowl, completely empty. “How embarrassing, I’m done already.” You whined out noticing his bowl looking as if its barley been touched.
“I don’t eat much.”
“I guess I should have asked if you had an appetite before I invited you. All I did was embarrass myself.” You sighed as you leaned back in your booth, rubbing your bloated stomach for comfort.
“I-it’s okay! Um, I’m…sorry?”
You couldn’t help but laugh at his flustered expression, “You’re real funny, you know?” You took out your phone and whined as you noticed how late it was getting. “It’s getting so late and I totally forgot I had chores! My moms gonna kill me!” You hurriedly got up and grabbed your school bag.
Before you walked away you turned to Junpei, “I hope we do something like this again one day.” And with that being the last thing you said, you ran out of the restaurant and headed your way home.
Junpei was in his head the entire way home. This by far had to be the most confusing school day he’s had. He tried not so hard to think about the classroom interaction, but then you basically forced him to hang out with you after school hours. Friends weren’t something Junpei had a lot of, he grew up being bullied and it followed him even at the age of seventeen. Outside of his few club members, he didn’t really talk to anyone let alone see them after school.
He’s seen you around before, you were pretty popular. You were always surrounded by friends; he can’t say he was fond of any of them. You declared him as your friend, but didn’t you know what your friends did to him? He couldn’t tell if you were genuine, and he wasn’t ready to let his guard down yet. This was too suspicious for him.
All he had on you so far was:
You were very peculiar, your aura screamed kindness but it could be too good to be true. He had just met you after all.
You had a problem with being on time.
Him being in his head made his walk home seem quicker than it usually was, time flew by as he was mentally theorizing who you were as a person and what was your plan with him. He didn’t even hear his mother greet him as he walked in, asking if he was hungry and ready to eat.
“Junpei? Are you not going to eat?”
“Hm?” He finally looked up from the ground facing his mom. “Oh, no. Sorry. I didn’t tell you I went out to eat after school. With a….friend.”
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netmaddy-blog · 7 years
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Old Country Home
New Post has been published on https://netmaddy.com/old-country-home/
Old Country Home
When we were just tiny toddlers, my older brother and I hopped into our parent’s old Nash automobile so excited about visiting our grandparents in the country. The drive from Corpus Christi to San Antonio brings back some of the most yearned for memories of my life; a simpler, less complicated time in life that I can go back to and take refuge.
My dad, always thinking ahead, had prepared child-sized, home-made “facilities” for use on our road trip. Since gas stations were few and far between, he handed me a small red Folger’s coffee can with a lid and my brother a small glass coke bottle. This little accommodation became a family tradition for road trips back in those days.
Mom packed a large brown grocery bag full of sandwiches and cookies wrapped in waxed paper along with a gallon of iced tea in a clear glass milk jug. Ice chests were still a decade away and so was the technology for plastic baggies. There was no air conditioner in the old Nash so we traveled with the windows open, heads and hands flailing in the breeze (seatbelts hadn’t been invented yet). Dad filled up at a “full-service gas station” for twenty-two cents a gallon (which is sadly extinct now, along with glass gallon milk jugs.)
“San-An-Toni, An-Toni-Oh; She hopped upon a pony, and rode away with Tony; If you see her please let me know, And I’ll meet you in San-Antonio!”
Mom taught us all the road songs she knew; i.e., “You Are my Sunshine,” “Hush Little Baby,” “America the Beautiful,” “Texas Our Texas,” “The Yellow Rose of Texas,” “Home on the Range,” and “San-An-Toni-O,” come directly to my mind. We came from a musical family where everyone sang, played instruments, danced and played records. No more songs? No problem! We counted wooden telephone poles and read billboard signs until we fell asleep.
After driving about forty-five to fifty miles per hour, on a two lane road, for what seemed like more hours than telephone poles, dad put his left arm out of the window to signal a turn and then slowly pulled onto a bumpy dirt road named Rockport Road. About five miles away was my grandparent’s small dairy farm-turned-cattle ranch. Dad always referred to his childhood home as “The Ranch.”
Rockport Road (later F.M. 1518) was a busy artery in the early part of the twentieth century; connecting many productive little farming communities in the Oak Island Community area to the city of San Antonio. Today, this road is South Loop 1604 West and the old ranch house is right off the highway, about five miles from Somerset on the south side of San Antonio. Later in life, I was to discover that our family was one of the oldest Texas families to settle here as far back as 1825.
“Souvenirs”
“They’re here!” shouted Grandmother. Coming quickly down the old stone steps, I noticed that her dress was covered with many tiny flowers. There is nothing like the smell of a country grandma, for she smelled like cookies and love. We pulled up to their modest dairy farm house that was on the edge of a hundred and twenty-six acres spread. Dad parked in the sandy soil and red dirt clay since there was no driveway. Their entire front yard was their driveway.
The first thing I noticed was a beautiful, circular rock garden that sparkled in the sunlight. We felt the texture and shapes of the stones in the round structure that glittered with samples of their vacations. (There used to be a time when it was not illegal to take a sample or two of Montana or Yellowstone National Park home with you.)
Several layers of rocks were stacked about three feet high with nothing to hold them together but each other. We discovered petrified wood, iron stone, colored chunks of glass, flat oval stones, really soft, glittery sandstone, open geodes with white crystals, small round pebbles, grey flat slabs and blue geodes. This collection represented ten years worth of “souvenirs” from Texas all the way up to their Montana land.
The tiny purple Verbena and the green and white Chaparral were in full bloom with millions of new flowers. They smelled like musky cologne and lay draped like curtains over the fence in their front yard. Years before, Grandmother had planted an orange tree next to the house to protect it from the cold in winter. Everyone told her that orange trees don’t grow in San Antonio, but as long as she was alive that orange tree produced sweet oranges.
Two purple and two pink Crepe Myrtle trees grew in the front yard alongside the Pomegranate trees that were imported from out of state. Grandmother gave mom some jars of her home made mustang jelly that she had made from the wild mustang grapes that grew on the property. She found wild mulberry bushes and raspberry bushes out on the land, but the wildlife usually quenched their appetite on them first.
If it grew on a vine, a bush, or a tree, she could make it grow, preserve it in mason jars and pass it on to friends, family and the community. She even collected fresh eggs every morning from the chicken coop and Granddad milked his own personal Jersey cow twice daily.
Their old farmhouse kitchen was a slanted, add-on cook porch with a roof that was a full foot shorter than the rest of the house. The oven didn’t cook evenly because it sat on a slope, but cookies were still wonderful in Grandmother’s oven! She had a real “ice box” with a chunk of ice in it for refrigeration and an old timey washing machine; the kind that squeezes the clothes through two rollers. After we settled in comfortably, Grandmother called my brother and me into the kitchen for some home made cookies and store bought vanilla ice cream that she had purchased from Henry Edward Butt (H.E.B. grocery store).
That evening, we snuggled into a soft double bed in what used to be “the girl’s room.” I traced the thick raised pink roses on Grandmother’s hand crocheted blankets with my fingers, as if trying to remember them. The bed was big enough for little children but I couldn’t imagine how my three aunts slept together on it. Life was simple back in the day that my three aunts were young, and they were happy there, for farm life was all they knew.
The girl’s room had a conservative, black chiffarobe for their dresses and a matching black dresser for their clothes. They also had an old fashioned vanity table to sit at with a mirror. It was peaceful in my aunts’ old bedroom. I wondered how many times they must have sat there and combed their hair, looking into the long mirror. Now I am looking into the same mirror and feeling like a country girl myself.
When Dad was born in 1928, Granddad built a long, porch-room at the back of the house for him. It had a wooden floor and a slanted tin roof that, like the kitchen, was also a foot lower than the rest of the house. Dad lived in that porch-room all the way through college, at Trinity University. Frugality was the operative word back then. But they always had money for the children’s college education, the girl’s singing engagements, and dad’s football games.
When it rained upon that old tin roof, it sounded like little bee bees falling from heaven. The grown-ups didn’t seem bothered by it because they were caught up in a rousing game of Canasta; a card game that took two decks and at least four people. This was Granddad’s favorite pastime and he played it like a champion.
Later on, as the rain stopped and the night grew still, the boisterous voices coming from the dining room turned into soft, muffled conversations of family visiting family. Grandmother was teaching my mother how to crochet raised roses on a granny square blanket just like my aunts had on their old bed. Later, I was to learn the blanket would be for me! All was well at my grandparent’s home.
Rag Rugs, Button Boxes and Granddad’s Marbles
Grandmother had a gift of creating something out of nothing, or very little. She was very imaginative and always kept her crochet needles and a sewing box near her rocking chair. In her leisure time, like an artist with her pallet full of paints, she made from scratch several dozen beautiful rag rugs out of the family’s old, worn out clothing.
My bare feet were never cold at her house because she had covered all of her wooden floors with colorful, knotted, floppy tie rag rugs. When a work shirt or dress became unusable, she took her large pair of sewing scissors and ripped the garments into thousands of equally measured ribbons. Using her iron, she pressed them into biased tape, and using her crochet needle as a hook, she tied the cloth into limitless, colorful, hand-made floppy tie rag rugs.
My brother spent hours playing with Granddad’s boyhood marbles that he had toted around since his own childhood. I was fascinated with Grandmother’s fancy button box and all of the buttons which were placed in it when a garment needed to be turned into a rug. I organized and color-coded them, playing for hours with her large button box. She had the most interesting and unique buttons I’ve ever seen.
Grandmother Beatrice was ahead of her time with recycling. She gave her floppy tie rag rugs away to friends and those “in need of a rug.” Once, she made a long, narrow, white floppy tie rag rug that flowed down the hallway of her favorite niece, Jane McCabe’s hallway, in her lovely home on the north side of San Antonio. Jane was formerly a Parker, like Grandmother, and came from our wealthy Detroit, Michigan relatives who migrated to San Antonio in the early thirties.
Grandmother gracefully wove dark green ties to make the leaves, red ties to make the cherries into the white background. Jane McCabe proudly displayed her Aunt Beatrice’s long cherry rag rug in her large hallway for twenty-five years, until the old rug needed to reitre. It was quite the envy of all of her neighbors and a conversation piece at her bridge parties, too!
King Snakes and Doodle Bugs
My cousin Stevie, who was just a year and a half younger than me, knew all about the difference between rattle snakes and King snakes. “The rattle snake will kill you, but the King snake is harmless and kills the bad snakes” he said.
He also taught me, ever so gently, how to tap a tiny little grain of sand into a Doodle Bug funnel in the barn next to the chicken coop. A Doodle Bug is a black quarter-inch long hard shelled bug with about a hundred tiny legs at the base of its armor.
These little sand creatures dug their funnels with all those little feet in order to bury themselves beneath the cool sand during the day. We tapped one or two grains of sand in their “little tornadoes” in order to confirm if there really was a Doodle Bug inside the funnel or not. If he was home, the Doodle Bug would fast and furiously kick out the sand with his many legs. When in sight, we quickly scooped him up and let him walk on our hands. We meant no malice to nature’s little tornado diggers and always returned them back to the sand, wherein they would immediately begin to feverishly kick sand up in the air and disappear.
My brother and I returned to “The Ranch” several times. Our grandparent’s house even became a refuge during the evacuation of Corpus Christi when Hurricane Carla came ashore. Today, my brother lives about an eighth of a mile from the old homestead in his own “Ranch.”
In 2003, I was actually able to go back to “The Ranch” over fifty years later, to live with my eighty-eight year old aunt Bebe. She had inherited her parent’s old homestead and moved back there after her retirement from teaching. It was through coming back here that I was able to find my roots and remembered that uncomplicated, simple childhood that I had experienced so many years ago.
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