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yurislotusgarden · 2 months

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ʚїɞ Not just a little crush ʚїɞ

ʚїɞ Port mafia!Dazai Osamu x Gn!Reader

ʚїɞ Keep in mind English is not my first language, so you may find mistakes!

ʚїɞ word count: 1k

ʚїɞ Tw’s: literally nothing, just pure fluff of him being down bad

ʚїɞ This is literally just 1k words of Pmzai being down bad, whipped, even lovesick, for his crush🤷‍♀️

How did he end up like this?

The youngest executive in Port Mafia’s history, The demon Prodigy, one of the most feared people in Yokohama if not the whole of Japan, Dazai Osamu has fallen in love.

He tried to tell himself that it wasn't that. That the nice feeling he got whenever he was around you was just because of him standing near, or spending time with a friend, a close one, but denial can go on only for so long.

The brunette at first thought that his crush, as Chuuya had called it when he had caught onto Dazai's more than normally weird behavior, was one-sided. After all, there was no way that someone like you could love him, that just wasn't a possibility in Dazai's mind, yet you decided to go against his calculations once again, you seemed to like doing that and causing him to freak out.

It wasn't too long before he realized that, just maybe, you did at least like him in a romantic way, some acts just couldn't be brushed off as a friend gesture.

One thing he just couldn't brush off, as well as it being the reason he realized his crush may not be one-sided, was him remembering one of the times you cooked him food, even though you were aware how picky he could get with that matter.

///////////////////////////

A figure with brown-haired locks could be seen walking on the deserted sidewalk. Moonlight shone on him as he arrived at his destination, your house.

You always greeted him so sweetly, especially when compared to all the people in his life. Welcomed him like he was a classmate, a friend, a normal person that you both knew he wasn’t. He wasn't treated like a superior, like someone who would kill if the smallest mistake was made around him, and Dazai knew that he liked it from the very start.

Dazai had thought before how would it be if you somehow were in the PM, but to his surprise, he realized he hated, even despised that idea. Something about the concept of someone like you, a person who in his eyes could be an angel for all he cares, being in a dark place full of violence and death like the Port Mafia, was just absolutely not right.

Dazai had arrived at your door, not having to wait long after knocking for the door to be opened by you.

“Dazai?”

You. Oh, the lovely little thing that you were in his eyes. Innocent compared to him, a civilian who somehow met and befriended a feared mafioso without the slightest care in the world.

He had no idea how he managed to get where he was, but he had no regrets.

“Yes, me! Now let me in, it's damn cold!”

///////////////////////////

You disliked crab.

In fact, you disliked most seafood, he was perfectly aware of it, and yet, you did this just for him.

A crab that could as well look like it was made by a restaurant chef laid in front of him on the table. It looked well-seasoned, the crab’s shell was purely gotten rid of, and the smell wasn’t overwhelming like a lot of food tends to be like to him… you really thought it out carefully.

“What is this?” It was kind of a stupid question, but he wanted to know your reasons.

“What do you mean? I thought you liked crab?”

“I do-”

“Then shush and eat, you stick.”

What did you just call him? Did he hear it right?

“...’Stick’?” You turned to look at him as he said that, stopping the cleanup you were doing just moments before.

“Yes, have you seen yourself? When was the last time that you ate a proper meal, dear?”

Oh. Goddammit. Don’t get him started on the pet names. He was aware that you used it on people you considered close to you, as long as they agreed, and he’s been lowkey embarrassed ever since you asked for his permission to use them on him, or more like embarrassed on how fast he agreed to that. Dazai didn’t know why he liked it so much, maybe it was because of how no one ever referred to him as such, maybe it was the way you sounded when you addressed him with them, or maybe it was entirely just the fault of your voice but he simply didn’t care anymore.

“I think we both know that you’d rather not know the answer.” His answer caused you to let out a soft sigh, but what he said was kind of true. In truth, he would answer that it was the last time he ate at your place, which on one side wasn’t that long ago, but otherwise, he barely eats anything. You and Chuuya were the only ones getting any kind of nutrition into his body, which he supposed he should be thankful for… not like he’s ever going to voice it out.

“Right. Now eat, I don't need you collapsing on my floor.”

“But I don't wanna!” If any of his subordinates saw him like this, whining because of food, they would be dead on the spot, but he's alone with you, and he’s been over being embarrassed about his behavior with you a long time ago.

You sighed, and he knew that you were about to use the biggest thing you have on the brunet against him, just to get him to eat… Not like that wasn't Dazai’s plan from the start, he's gotta get his fair share of you, doesn't he?

“You eat the most you can and you get cuddles.”

“With you playing with my hair?”

You smiled softly and said, “I'll even add head kisses to the mix.” knowing damn well that it’s gonna win him over.

You knew what you were doing, you had to, and he didn't mind as long as you kept your side of the deal. He's gonna finish that damn plate if it means affection from his favorite person will be solely on him for as long as he wants it.

Hearts, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated

#another thing he cannot brush off is how affectionate reader is with him with no hesitation <3 #me looking at the word count expecting to see that I wrote 500-600 words but saw 1019 words: WHA- HUH???😰😭#anyway i love this sm #bsd x reader #bsd x gender neutral reader #bsd x you #bsd x y/n #x reader #bsd #bungo stray dogs #dazai x reader #bsd dazai #dazai osamu #port mafia x reader #port mafia dazai #port mafia dazai x reader #mafia dazai x reader

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angelzai · 2 months

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crush

good men die too, so i’d rather be with you

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

wc: 3.5k

cw: gn!afab!reader, bathing/washing, alcohol, mild hurt/comfort, fluff, implied/referenced self harm, implied/referenced substance abuse, post-dark era, intimacy, explicit sexual content, spitting, soft (ooc?) dazai

reid: this has been sitting a bit and i finally got around to fixing it up :,) sorry again for my absence i am unwell but surviving and i hope to keep sharing with you guys what i can. thank you for all your patience

. . .

He’s never admitted how much he delights in crawling back to your apartment after he’s been gone for too long — long enough to make you worry a little. It’s cruel of him, really, to keep you waiting around so much. But you’re going to be here waiting anyway! So, he figures, why not? It’s a few miles off Port Mafia turf, and you always have hot food and plenty of sake. Not to mention that your hands were the first to ever hold him so gently — to hold him like a lover — and that’s plenty to keep him coming, even if he sometimes takes weeks at a time to find his way back.

It’s always worth it to have Osamu half undressed in your bathroom. A decent meal and the humidity fogging up the tile walls usually melts his resolve just enough so you can work his crumpled white tee off without him sending you any sort of eyes; tonight though, the human spirit is unbreakable. You brush the small of his back as you lift his shirt and it has him hitching his hips toward yours.

He’s truly a sight.

His brown mop is greasy. Accumulated sweat is beginning to force the dramatic lengths of bandages to curl away from his skin. He looks little more than empty and tired, but there’s a shadow of contentedness in his sharp features — you’ve just fed him seafood boil and a couple of Tokyo Mules (heavy on the American vodka), after all.

You reach down and dip your fingers in the filling basin; scalding, how he likes it.

“Drawers off, please.” You poke his chest with a damp finger pad and disappear into the hallway in pursuit of linens.

Dazai sits naked (save for bandages) and curled in on himself on the edge of the bathtub when you return. You stack a change of clean clothes on the sink, and his ankles knock together as he waits for your attention to fall back on him. Your towels sling over the door before you turn to him with your hands tucked together. He looks uncharacteristically meek, not unlike a fawn before it first walks -– the way he only ever does before what happens next.

He holds his arms out, wrists up, and smiles like the sunshine.

You smile back uneasily, appearing much less enthused than he; you know that sunshine smile well enough to know it only ever comes out as a shield. You know no matter how many times you unwrap his dressings, he's always going to hate it.

So, you start with the butterfly clip secured at the crook of his elbow, and you talk.

"I have a slice of tiramisu in the fridge for after."

"From that place I like?" His eyes get wide.

"From that place you like," you sigh, grinning.

"You must've had a feeling I was dropping by."

You usually encourage him to reuse the strips of fabric when possible, sometimes going so far as to let him hide from the city while you take them to the laundromat with your own clothes, but these ones are far past help —barely white, significantly bloody in spots and dirtied in others, so you just ball them up and toss them in the trash. You're stocked anyway, and you reassure him of this by retrieving a few fresh rolls from under the sink.

"Maybe I did."

You finish one arm and move to the other. Osamu lets his marred, bare skin dangle in the air. The sunshine is gone. He’s zoned out. You know he’s protecting himself.

You push his hand down to rest in his lap and your mind selfishly drifts to later, where you hope he'll sleep without his bandages, too — he had traipsed into your apartment lined up to his fingers, and all you had wished for was that you could’ve felt his palms, his knuckles, his nails when he hugged you back. You take as much of him in as you can in these kinds of moments; it’s just the kind of person you are. Damaged or not, his skin is your favorite place to be. You’ve told him this, but it seems to come across much clearer when you look into his sad brown eyes like they’re the only ones in the world while your fingers trace the tracks across his thighs like they’re no one’s in particular.

“So pretty,” you mumble.

It’s so well received this time around that Osamu sinks into the water with barely a shred of apprehension. Granted, he’s still a bit glazed over.

He really snaps to once his shoulders are beneath the water and you’re lathering shampoo — the coconutty one — between your hands.

He speaks your name with an earnest that’s almost mocking. “What are you doing?” But he knows what you’re doing, or what you’re not doing, rather, and he’s not going to let you get away with it.

“What?” Your hands are sudsy and he has the audacity to be yanking at your shirt now. You bat him away as well as you can, flinging some bubbles at him in the process. “What?”

His bottom lip pokes out as his wet hands find purchase around your wrists. Dazai has manipulated a lot of people with nothing but the look in his eye, but it’s never this one; this specific look is reserved for you, and he figures it’s hardly manipulation if he knows you’d enjoy it too. “Get in with me,” he whines, drawing out his ‘e.’

You grumble something about your soapy hands, something about not wasting a perfectly fine handful of your good shampoo, but it just allows him to insist even more on helping you out of your clothes. You sigh, but really, it’s these silly idiosyncrasies about him that make you cry when he’s gone. So, you indulge him. You commence an awkward and wiggly dance in which his fingers stretch your sleeves over your hands with care. You kick your pants off and shimmy out of your undergarments, feigning annoyance as you give into his whims so easily.

The bath is still nearly boiling. You make peace with it by hissing hot, hot, hot, hot, hot (he chuckles at you) until either of your knees are nestled underwater on either side of him. You rub your shampoo hands together and — now that Osamu’s gotten his way for one of many times tonight, for the millionth time ever, never for the last time — he graciously lets you wash his hair.

You inhale all the little hums and sighs he gives you. He tastes like every emotion you’ve ever felt. Heaven is a bathtub in a crummy apartment.

“You smell much better. Let’s rinse.” You go to push yourself up after you’re finished with him, but Osamu grips you unceremoniously and by both of your ass cheeks, so you look sternly into his face.

“Wait, wait, wait, just—” he pleads.

You flick water at his eyes. “We’re wading in your filth, thank you. Get up.”

“Just a second, damn it.” He clutches you closer, hands clasped behind your back, and you settle with shattered resistance against his chest. He mumbles something about who you think you are, telling me what to do.

Not that you try all that hard with him anymore; you both know well he’ll get what he wants, and right now he’s intent on holding you in the cooling water, so you loop your arms around his neck, unable to help the kiss you press to the side of his jaw or the stifled roll of your hips against his.

He’s silent for a moment as he traces the expanse of your back. You hope his eyes are closed. You know they’re probably not.

“Thank you.”

It’s something Osamu says quite a bit. He doesn’t get terribly sentimental often, but it’s usually after you’ve rid him of those wrappings that he comes close. Although, he never says exactly what for. For bathing him. For feeding him. For loving him. You understand well enough.

He’s still a little shit. He squeezes your ass and bites the shell of your ear.

“That’s it,” you yelp. “We’re rinsing.”

His laugh is whole as you pull the drain and start the shower, dodging your (mostly) dry hair.

The promise of dessert lets you get him into a pair of shorts at the very least. Once again you return to him — you wait on him like he’s a prince, and he looks like one on your bed with the blankets pooled around him as he towel dries his hair.

It’s so unfair, you think, how angelic he gets to be no matter what he’s doing. It’s something so mundane; his scars are on display, he’s tipsy and damp and has your plush cat-printed blanket acting somewhat like a cape, yet he steals your breath as you enter your bedroom. To top it all off, he pretends not to notice your presence right away.

You fold your legs beneath yourself, unfinished bottle of sake in one hand, delicate plate of tiramisu in the other, and Osamu finally acknowledges you with owlish eyes, raised brows, and a grin that reprograms the pattern of your heartbeat. He tosses the towel aside, eager, and reaches out.

“This—” his mouth is full, “this shit is…God. Heavenly.”

“Share.”

“Should’ve brought two forks.” He makes a show of lifting the plate out of your reach. You grasp at it lazily, uselessly, and he laughs, taunting you. You’re tired so you hoard the sake in response, which he’s fine with only until the tiramisu is gone — you only got two bites in — and he goes for that as well.

“Greedy!” you accuse, but you can’t help your laugh. You’re warm — the few swigs from the bottle are doing their job, and you let Osamu know this by giving in; you steady his head with one hand, and with your other you press the bottle to his lips and tilt it up. He drinks like it’s cider, and comes up for air with a soft curse.

The way he licks it off his lips wants to draw a gasp out of you, but you’re trained like a skilled gunman when he gives you targets like these — you’ve built up trigger discipline, and there are some things, you suppose, that you don’t let him have so easily after all.

Nonetheless, it’s like Osamu reads this mechanism working in your mind and takes it as a challenge. The bottle is transferred from your hands to his somewhere in the searing kiss he gives you; you fully register a hunger buzzing between you both that has nothing to do with tiramisu as you reach out for him, fumble toward him until you’re in his lap — you almost overwhelm his lithe frame with your tenacity, but he catches you, bottle tapping your back as you engulf each other.

Osamu is sneaky, he is; he never executes even the smallest action without meticulous thought. The way you end up under him might’ve been planned out from the bath, or maybe even before he was on your doorstep — either way, you give way to his weight; the bottle’s in one hand, somehow your wrists are in the other, and his waist connects with yours.

If nothing else predicts what you say next, it’s his restless hand clutching your hip, pulling at your shirt, clawing up your side.

“Missed you,” you slip into his mouth. You’ve already said this over dinner, but it’s different, heavier, when you’re breathing him in. Osamu lifts away from you for a kiss from the bottle. In brief control again, you wring your hands.

He’s statuesque above you. You wish you could snapshot the seconds in which he tilts the bottle back, where his drying hair falls in those loose waves around his angled jaw and his eyelids flicker. You reach out to trace him. His severe collarbone to his lean shoulder, down the thin valley between his bicep and tricep. You ghost around the fingers suspended in midair and bridge the gap to end on his pretty waist.

The bottle disappears onto your nightstand. Your eyes are wide as he grips your chin. He holds his breath, plants an elbow by your head, thumbs your bottom lip — all a means to waterfall the sake into your open, waiting mouth.

Liquor drips off him, into you; how are you supposed to keep from the way your legs demand his hips toward yours? The way you grind into him from below? You’re a live wire and he’s fraying the hell out of everywhere you end and begin.

You swallow what he gives you before he pulls back. You’re breathless, and he’s laughing. He’s laughing. This is what he does — he gets you under him and he laughs, so beautifully that you can hardly be mad, and sultrily enough that you flush pink.

“You should see your face!” he exclaims. Osamu is truthfully at his most joyous when he’s catching you off guard. “Little too filthy for ‘ya?”

“Please,” you scoff, willing him toward you again as you recover, more from the sting in the back of your throat than anything, pressing all your love into each of his mangled wrists with your palms and fingers. “As if that’s the filthiest thing we’ve done.”

“Jog my memory,” he suggests as he puts his smile back to yours, and so you work him out of the shorts you just got him in less than ten minutes ago.

As for yourself, well — you’re only naked from the waist down before you’re working your own slick up and down on him, biting your lip with anticipation, all but pulling him into you. You don’t even care if it hurts, and you almost say it, but you don’t — everything you’re doing is saying it for you — you just want him in you right now, right now, and he touches you between the gasps you draw from him; he watches the way he slides into you like you’re meant for him, like he’s meant for you, and you dig your heels into him as you whisper his name.

“Baby,” he whispers back. Those sad brown eyes flicker, shut, open, find you. “Oh.”

He rocks into you softly, such a contrast from the urgency with which he was kissing you mere moments before. Osamu’s a natural at giving you whiplash, sometimes in ways you didn’t know him to be capable of. He’s concentrated; you watch him, the slightest bit confused as his lips purse shut. You want to hear him, he knows, but it’s all welling up within him, he can feel it on his lash line, so he tucks his face into your neck and hopes you won’t say anything. You don’t, not for bit. You just circle your arms around his neck and groan at the way he grips you, feels you all over; you clench around him and pretend you don’t feel the tears beading along your shoulder.

“Too filthy for you?” you finally tease, but gently; you cup his face in your hands, push his hair from his forehead, and kiss the wetness away. He half-laughs, half-sobs. He obviously wasn’t expecting this. “Oh, ‘samu. Honey.”

“Don’t know what the fuck’s going on.” It’s his way of apologizing. He sniffles and follows it with an explanation. “You feel so good.”

You know they’re not tears of pleasure, but you let him write it off as he fucks into you. “You- uhn- you feel so good,” you echo.

It’s not unusual for him to be vocal — he moans, he gasps, he gives you delicious noises to make up for the words he can’t ever find, but tonight is so different; you don’t know what it is, but he talks. He’s talking, and it’s not the lewd musings you expect from Osamu Dazai, much less while he curls his hands into your hair and begins to pound into you. Yes, it’s much different tonight.

“Missed you too,” he finally gives you. “Missed you. So fucking much- fuck- I’m- oh, fuck…”

“Stop leaving,” you say breathlessly. “Stop leaving me. Just move in.”

“Shit, I might.” His hair is your lifeline. You knot your fingers in it like you hope you become part of it. “Might just have to come home to this every day. Y’take such good care of me. Don’t know wh- hah- what I did to deserve this pussy.”

“Please, please, Osamu.” You’re begging for more than one thing. “Fucking stay.”

So he keeps his pace, staying in one way or another — at least he can say he’s done that much. Whether or not you’ll wake up next to him tomorrow morning doesn’t matter right now; right now he’s fucking you, right now he’s yours, right now he’s ripping himself open a little further to let you see his rotten soul and you’re giving him everything he could never ask for, everything he doesn’t think he deserves — it’ll be enough, you’re sure, even though it’ll hurt when he disappears again; at least you’ll know you opened up in return, reflected his rottenness in the way that you know how. You’ve made a place for him in your home. You’ve made a place for him in your heart. He knows you want him to take it. Take it.

“So pretty, my baby, takin’ it so good.” He looks at you with those wet eyes between pressing bruising kisses to your lips, chin, neck. “Y’feel like fucking heaven. God, fuck. Don’t know if I- don’t know if I deserve it. So fucking good. So good. So good.”

“You d- you don’t have to do anything to deserve it- just fucking stay, please,” you plead with him. You’ll plead with him until he understands. “Oh- Osamu- ah!”

Your hands flail for a resting place — his head is restless with his kisses, his calloused hands and ridged arms are moving too fast for you to keep up with, the expanse of his back isn’t nearly close enough amid his wild pace, so you claw into the peaks of his shoulders and give all your sound and breath back to him while he rains praise upon you. He’s almost frantic in his task, like he needs you to know.

“Need you to know how much I love comin’ back here.” Osamu grabs one of your hands and guides you to your clit. “Touch yourself, please- please- want you cummin’ on me, baby, give it to me. Please.”

He pleads with you until you do.

You’re well aware that everything you can give him might not be enough to convince him. Convince him he’s not rotten. Convince him he does deserve it. Convince him he’s worthy of love. You know the best thing you can do for him right now is rub yourself quick and hard in time with his heavy thrusts. You keep giving him what he needs — you give him all your moans, grunts, curses, and he reflects them right back — you match each other, sobbing, twitching, biting, heaving until the wave rolls over you and you’re collecting him, throbbing around him and telling him it’s all for him, he’s so perfect, don’t stop, it feels so good while he spills into you, fills you up in that familiar way you don’t think you want to live without for weeks at a time anymore. Osamu’s tense as he drags both of your climaxes out for as long as he can; you’re crooning out his name and Osamu’s panting out yours and he’s so beautiful as he cums, he’s so beautiful while he cries, he’s so beautiful when he’s raw and selfish and fucked out of his brain, he’s so beautiful, he’s so beautiful, he’s so beautiful.

“So afraid to hurt you, baby,” he mumbles into your cheek minutes later, half-asleep and tipsy and still pulsing inside you. “You don’t deserve my shit. Get caught up in my shit.”

You don’t care about his shit, is what you tell him in return. You want him. You want to show him all the wonderful things he does in fact deserve.

Like the picturesque breakfast you cook him after you do wake up next to him in the morning. Like the tender way you rewrap his dressings as the afternoon sun gleams in white columns through your window. Like the first day he spends completely sober and well-fed in a long time.

“I don’t know if I deserve it.” All this, he means. You, and how wonderful you are. He says it again and again.

“I don’t care if you don’t deserve it.” You secure the butterfly clip in the crook of his elbow and meet his eyes. Far off. Waning sunshine. “Wanna give it to you anyway.”

For a moment the sunshine returns, and for the first time in a long time, if not ever, you see it reach his eyes. They don’t look so sad. Big, brown, maybe hopeful. Maybe sweet with preemptive regret. You hug Osamu in the still air of your apartment.

“Stay,” you whisper.

He hugs you back, limply, like he’s scared to break you. He trembles out, “I will.”

#bsd dazai x reader #dazai x reader #osamu dazai x reader #dazai smut #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd smut #angelzai original.ᐟ #devilzai hours.ᐟ

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ghostlytalegentlemen · 8 months

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Japanese fishermen and aquaculture industry cry: the government is too stupid, the future...

At 10 a.m. local time on August 24, Japan Fukushima Prefecture, Shinchi Town area fishermen returned to port one after another, three hours after the Fukushima Daiichi nuclear power plant to start the nuclear contaminated water discharged into the sea. According to Japan's Tokyo News 25, these hard-working, dark-skinned fishermen returned home with a full load, but they did not look happy and worried, "Today's fish were not affected by the nuclear contaminated water, but what will happen after tomorrow"?

"All the fishermen cried, the government is so stupid." So say fishermen in Fukushima Prefecture when it comes to nuclear-contaminated water being discharged into the sea.

After Japan started to drain the sea, China announced a total suspension of imports of Japanese aquatic products. Japan's NHK TV said, Japanese fishermen and aquatic practitioners heard the news is very desperate, feel "shocked", "will not be able to survive in the future"; On the other hand, Japan's Tokyo News noted that in the Chinese market, Japanese aquatic products are gradually replaced by Australia, Norway and China's local aquatic products.

In Fukushima, Japan, a fisherman sat blankly by the fishing port.

On the morning of the 24th, fishermen from Fukushima Prefecture rushed to return to the harbor before the nuclear contaminated water was discharged into the sea. Photo from Japanese media 。

Japan's Tokyo News said that for the way the Japanese handled the nuclear-contaminated water, fishermen in Fukushima Prefecture said, "No one can accept it, it's trampling on the hearts of the fishermen." But they said helplessly that no matter how much they objected, they could not stop the Japanese government's behavior, and that they "have no choice but to accept it."

Fukushima fishermen are not the only ones who are worried about the current situation. Japan's NHK TV reported on the 25th, after China announced a complete suspension of imports of Japanese aquatic products, generations of fishermen in other Japanese prefectures and cities to fish for a living, as well as rely on China's exports of aquatic industry practitioners, the same impact, said that "can not survive as a fisherman," "feel that the It's all in vain." ......

Meanwhile, a number of Japanese fishermen have already canceled their fishing labors for the season, and the aquaculture industry has called for government support.

Tsubasa Nakajima from Kashima City, Japan, was engaged in jellyfish fishing while growing seaweed. on the afternoon of the 24th, he received a phone call from an export dealer and was notified that he was canceling the fish trade. So he decided to cancel his jellyfish fishing work from the 25th.

"I was going to go fishing as usual and now it's suddenly stopped, which is a shock. Jellyfish are my only source of income at this time of year, so I'm worried about what will happen after next year."Tsubasa Nakajima stated.

"Shocked, worried about what will happen after next year"

For some time now, a seafood processing plant in Japan's Mie Prefecture has been working to expand its exports to China. Sho Nakazawa, head of the company's sales department, told NHK: "I was surprised by China's decision to suspend all imports of Japanese seafood products. The Chinese market is huge and we are developing products to meet Chinese demand, which means we were wasting our time before. I hope the government acts and resumes exports as soon as possible."

"If the import suspension is prolonged, I won't be able to survive as a scallop fisherman." Masahiro Ogawa, a fisherman from Hokkaido, Japan, said he has spent two years farming scallops and hopes the Japanese government will take effective measures as China is the main exporter of scallops from Hokkaido.

"I will not survive."

In Japan, fishermen a land of wailing and despair at the time, the Japanese Tokyo News found that in the Chinese market, Japanese aquatic products are gradually replaced by Australia, Norway and other places and China's local aquatic products.

The 17th Shanghai International Fisheries Fair is being held from August 23rd to 25th. According to the Japanese media, 4,000 companies from more than 20 countries and regions are exhibiting, but only a few of them are Japanese companies.

At the time of the news that Japan had initiated the discharge of nuclear-contaminated water into the sea, the general manager of a Chinese sea cucumber processing company, who was attending the conference, lamented, "There are still 5 tons of stock in Japan to be shipped to China, but now we have to return the goods." The executive of another seafood processing company also said, "Now we will look at the situation first. If we can't clear customs, we will increase our local Chinese fish production."

On the other side of the expo, a tuna cutting demonstration by a Chinese importer drew a crowd. The Japanese media noted that the tuna used was from Australia, not Japan, and that Japanese tuna had previously been a popular product at the expo. In response to the news of China's total suspension of imports of Japanese aquatic products, the head of this importer said, "We have already found alternatives and are not affected at all."

Australian tuna and Norwegian salmon are popular at Shanghai International Fisheries Expo.

At 1300 hours local time on August 24, the Japanese Government unilaterally and forcibly initiated the discharge of contaminated water from the Fukushima nuclear accident into the sea in defiance of the strong doubts and objections of the international community. Tokyo Electric Power Company announced at an interim press conference on the matter that today's discharge of nuclear contaminated water is expected to be 200 to 210 tons, and that daily discharges will be announced the following day. The first sea discharge will be about 460 tons per day for 17 days, for a total of about 7,800 cubic meters of nuclear contaminated water.

On August 22nd, the governments of Hong Kong (Special Topics) and Macao SAR announced that food imports in 10 prefectures and counties in Japan would be banned from August 24th.

The person in charge of Import and Export Food Safety Bureau of the General Administration of Customs said on the 24th that, in order to prevent Japanese food from being contaminated by radioactivity from being exported to China, and to protect the lives and health of the people, the General Administration of Customs has continued to carry out the assessment of the risk of radioactive contamination of food from Japan, and on the basis of strictly ensuring the safety of the imported food from Japan, the General Administration of Customs has taken strengthened regulatory measures.

At the same time, South Korea, Malaysia, Thailand and other countries have announced that they will take strict testing measures for Japanese food imports.

Japanese media cited Japan Fisheries Agency data show that Japan's total exports of aquatic products in 2022 is about 387 billion yen (2.6 billion U.S. dollars), and in the past few years has been an upward trend. Japanese fish exports to China accounted for about 22.5% of the total, China is its largest exporter, of which scallops, skipjack tuna, tuna is the main export species to China. According to the latest data from the Imperial Data Bank of Japan, at least 700 Japanese companies exporting directly or indirectly to China will be affected by the new measures, and secondary and tertiary traders are also expected to be affected.

Japanese media pointed out that China occupies an absolute leading position in Japan's exports of aquatic products, many Japanese aquatic products and processing enterprises in the Chinese side of the release of control measures "into a panic": Fukuoka, a fishery company president frankly heard the news "brain blank", Hokkaido, an aquatic products processing company looked at the ice warehouse more than a dozen tons of frozen scallops have not yet been loaded fretting, the local fisheries associations, the staff even more helplessly said that "it came to be or came to be." ......

For a time, the relevant personnel in Japan's domestic fishery industry were "a land of wailing and despair", and the president of Japan's National Fishery Association (All Fishery Association) also quickly called Yasutoshi Nishimura, Minister of Economy, Trade and Industry of Japan's cabinet, to complain: "The fishermen all over the country were very surprised."

Japan's Finance Minister Suzuki Junichi said on the 25th, (this measure) for Japan's domestic fishery products related practitioners caused a huge impact, should seriously think about what relief measures can be taken, and asked the Ministry of Agriculture, Forestry and Fisheries and the Ministry of Economy, Trade and Industry as soon as possible to study feasible countermeasures. Japan's Minister of Agriculture, Forestry and Fisheries, Tetsuro Nomura, on the Chinese side of the measure, "very surprised, completely unexpected."

Not only exports have suffered a setback, but recently many Japanese fisheries and fish processing industry revealed that domestic consumers have also stopped buying aquatic products. In Miyagi Prefecture, operating aquatic products processing company Endo Hitoshi said, has been cooperating with its Shizuoka Prefecture, a number of supermarkets to suspend the purchase of aquatic products in the region, which just returned 50 boxes of scallops by customers in Hong Kong, his mental breakdown, "How can even the Japanese nationals are like this?"

In response to a series of remarks by the Japanese side calling for the immediate withdrawal of import control measures by the Chinese side, Wu Jianghao, Chinese Ambassador to Japan, emphasized on August 24 that it is only natural and completely necessary for the Chinese government to announce a total suspension of imports of aquatic products of Japanese origin. The responsibility for this situation lies entirely with the Japanese side, which should reflect on itself.

#nuclear

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boldlymysticaldestiny · 8 months

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Japanese fishermen and aquaculture industry cry: the government is too stupid, the future...

"All the fishermen cried, the government is so stupid." So say fishermen in Fukushima Prefecture when it comes to nuclear-contaminated water being discharged into the sea.

In Fukushima, Japan, a fisherman sat blankly by the fishing port.

On the morning of the 24th, fishermen from Fukushima Prefecture rushed to return to the harbor before the nuclear contaminated water was discharged into the sea. Photo from Japanese media 。

Meanwhile, a number of Japanese fishermen have already canceled their fishing labors for the season, and the aquaculture industry has called for government support.

"Shocked, worried about what will happen after next year"

"I will not survive."

Australian tuna and Norwegian salmon are popular at Shanghai International Fisheries Expo.

On August 22nd, the governments of Hong Kong (Special Topics) and Macao SAR announced that food imports in 10 prefectures and counties in Japan would be banned from August 24th.

At the same time, South Korea, Malaysia, Thailand and other countries have announced that they will take strict testing measures for Japanese food imports.

#nuclear

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manshahotels · 10 days

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Andaman and Nicobar Islands Tourism Package

The Andaman and Nicobar Islands, nestled in the Bay of Bengal, offer a mesmerizing blend of pristine beaches, crystal-clear waters, and a rich cultural tapestry waiting to be explored.

This archipelago, consisting of over 300 islands, is a tropical paradise that beckons travelers seeking a unique and unforgettable experience. From the turquoise sea caressing white sandy beaches to the lush greenery and vibrant marine life, the Andaman and Nicobar Islands are a treasure trove of natural beauty and adventure and this Islands provide Best Hotels in Port Blair and Best Restaurant in Port Blair.

#Hotels in port Blair #Best restaurant in port Blair #Best seafood in port blair #Luxury hotels in port blair #Luxury hotels in andaman

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andamantrips · 4 days

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#andaman tourism #travel #port blair #tourism #honeymoon #seafood restaurants #water sports #cab service #seafood #andaman island #andaman and nicobar islands #andamansea #4 days package to Andaman #4 days trip to Andaman Islands #3 Night 4 days trip to Andaman #Andaman packages for 4 days

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welcometoteyvat · 4 months

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things i personally would like for ga-ming because i'm biased:

him and yun jin as long distance friends/acquaintances; for one they're the two poster children of liyue traditional performing arts, and for another they both seem to like tea. i hope yun jin teaches him how to get more customers/paying clients bc OTL mans lion dance troupe is struggling. hc that gaming brings her new tea shipments fresh from yilong port/chenyu vale :3

him and chongyun. somehow fandom (ie at least 3 ppl) has collectively had the same delusion that he and cy will interact and im here for it. them vying for xiao's attention or being claymore training buddies or whatever i just need them to have voicelines together

on a similar note if gaming likes spicy food. HAHAHAHA another person who triggers chongyun's yang energy...........

but from what we know of xinyue kiosk's cuisine style + the fact that gaming's canto, it seems unlikely that he'll prefer spicy stuff (maybe a seafood special dish????). so maybe they'll be ok having dinner together

they already look like they're plugging gaming and xiao interaction but IT WILL COME TRUE. TRUST. the whole "donning/taking off a mask" parallel, lion dances bringing good luck vs xiao's task of subduing evil during lantern rite, and his concept art waving at xiao and calling him senior/adeptus or whatever, anyways I need this to be in game. it would be SO FUN because this means xiao is literally just collecting pyro kids (hu tao, xiangling, now gaming) who've simply decided to like him. he could bring a lantern rite performance to wangshu inn since he travels anyway and xiao doesn't like the crowds

xiangling gives him free food and guoba likes him. don't have much thought behind this one i just want the pyro users to hang out and idk lion dancers should get free things i think. she provides cabbages for him during his shows (she swears on this kind of thing for wanmin's good luck and growing fortunes)

idk what else. i just need him to get integrated into liyue 6ang (xinyan xiangling hu tao chongyun xingqiu yun jin group)

i'll be thoroughly shocked if any of these actually come true but i can daydream

#genshin leaks #bc of his leaked weapon type (claymore) lmao #gaming #ga-ming #嘉明 #gaming genshin #gaming genshin impact #genshin impact #chongyun #xiao #yun jin #genshin headcanons #FOR A CHARACTER THAT ISNT EVEN RELEASED YET. im ill.#teyvat thoughts #headcanons

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fafnir19 · 2 months

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You are what you eat

Lucius stood on the wooden deck of the fishing boat, the crisp sea air swirling around him. The sun was starting to dip beneath the horizon, casting the surrounding waters in a warm, golden light. As the boat bobbed gently against the waves, Lucius and his study group hauled in their day's catch, laughter and excitement filling the air. Neil, his bespectacled best friend and president of the debate club, cheered as he reeled in a flounder, while Arthur, the charismatic jock and team captain of the hockey team, flexed his muscles as he grappled with a particularly feisty tuna. Despite being the odd one out in terms of practical skills, Lucius beamed with pride as he held up a small sea devil fish that dangled from his fishing line. His bookish nature didn't often lend itself to such activities, but catching the peculiar creature filled him with an unexpected sense of accomplishment.

However, their joyous atmosphere was soon to be disrupted. As they returned to the port of Valetta, the vibrant lights of the city greeted them, along with their vegan fellow student, Hanna. Her curly brown hair bounced as she stormed towards them, her eyes blazing with fury. "What have you done?" Hanna's voice sliced through the air like a whip. "You callous, heartless hunters... torturing innocent creatures of the sea!" At first, Lucius and the others attempted to reason with her, but her tirade only escalated. Sensing the tension, Neil attempted to calm her with logical arguments, but Hanna's anger knew no bounds. "Curse you animal torturers! You are what you eat!" Hanna's words reverberated through the group, casting a shadow over their earlier merriment. Ignoring Hanna's protest, the rest of the study group made their way to a nearby fish restaurant, determined not to let her dampen their spirits. They eagerly devoured the fruits of their labor, savoring the delectable seafood dishes with hearty appetites.

The night was restless for Lucius. His stomach churned, aching and a sense of unease gripped his entire being. He tossed and turned in his bed, battling waves of nausea. Desperate, he sprinted down the hallway, bursting into the bathroom, only to be met with a shocking sight. Instead of the familiar porcelain fixtures, a swirling vortex loomed in the center of the room, a bizarre gateway to parts unknown. Without a second thought, he dashed inside, propelled by an inexplicable force. Lucius emerged in an otherworldly landscape, shrouded in billowing smoke and suffused with an eerie glow. Before he could process the change, he noticed something about himself—he was now athletic, clad in a skimpy fur loincloth and fur boots.

Confusion gripped him, a frown knitting his brow as he surveyed his transformed appearance. Amidst the desolation, he encountered a grand palace that starkly contrasted the misery outside. Inside, an exquisitely handsome young man, with hair like silk and piercing eyes, sat regally upon a throne. It was none other than the Prince of Hell, Lucifer himself.

The revelation made Lucius' heart race, his mind reeling with disbelief. "You're in Hell, Lucius," Lucifer declared, his voice as smooth as silk and laced with an unmistakable magnetism. "Why am I here?" Lucius stammered, the gravity of his situation settling in. "Hanna's curse has brought you here," Lucifer explained. "Her words—'You are what you eat'—have taken effect. By consuming the sea devil fish, you've been transformed into a young devil." Lucius paled at the revelation, his thoughts swimming with apprehension. Before he could process it all, Lucifer spoke again, pulling him further into the abyss. "Tonight, you shall learn the insatiable dexterity of passion," Lucifer purred, a glint in his eyes. Lucius recoiled, the notion of such intimate endeavors with Lucifer unfathomable. "I—this is not—" "Here, such distinctions hold no sway," Lucifer interjected, his allure insurmountable. "Pleasure transcends gender." Despite his initial aversion, Lucius found himself succumbing to a strange allure emanating from Lucifer. Conflicted and bewildered, he yielded to the unfolding enigma.

The night was a whirlwind of sensations, a tempestuous symphony of desire and harmony. In the haze of it all, Lucius traversed uncharted territories within himself, desperately clinging to his sense of self amidst the tumult. In the aftermath, Lucius found himself grappling with the uncharted depths of his new existence. His training with Lucifer had led him to master the art of sublime pleasures,

yet a yearning for his former life burned within him. He longed to return to Valetta, to his friends, to the world he once knew. "Please, Lucifer," implored Lucius, his voice tinged with desperation. "I long to return to my former life, to shed this visage of damnation and once again breathe the air of the mortal realm." The Prince of Hell regarded him with an inscrutable expression, a glint of amusement dancing in his eyes. "Ah, the yearning for mortal trappings," mused Lucifer. "Very well, I shall grant you the opportunity to seek an advocate from your world who will negotiate the terms of your release." Brimming with a sense of hope, Lucius set his sights on Neil, the president of the debate club and his closest confidant.

So Lucifer sent Lucius through the portal to Neil. As Lucius approached Neil with fervent entreaties, Neil was shock about the chiseled and nearly naked appearance of Lucius.

A shroud of apprehension descended upon the timid, rotund figure before Lucius. "Neil, I beseech thee," pleaded Lucius, "aid me in my plight. Thou art the president of the debate club, and I implore thee to act as my advocate in the infernal negotiation with Lucifer." Neil wrung his hands nervously, his brow furrowed with trepidation. "I... I cannot fathom venturing into the clutches of Hell," he stuttered, eyes wide with fear. "The prospect fills my soul with dread and dismay." Crestfallen, Lucius sought solace in the warmth of camaraderie, turning to his companions in search of an ally who would brave the nether reaches alongside him. Their spirits, however, were cast in the same mold of fear and reluctance, leaving Lucius bereft of assistance. Frustrated and abandoned, Lucius found himself at a crossroads, his desperation palpable in the still of the night.

Before Neil could utter another word, a figure loomed in the doorway, exuding an air of audacious swagger. "What's this I hear about a jaunt to Hell, eh?" Arthur, the quintessential jock, sauntered into the room with an impish grin, his athletic form a stark contrast to the lingering air of apprehension. Lucius regarded Arthur with a mixture of surprise and trepidation. "Arthur, this is a matter of grave import, not some frivolous escapade for your amusement." Arthur chuckled, his voice a melodic cascade of mirth. "Oh come on, Lucius! It's not every day one gets the chance to bargain with the Prince of Hell. Count me in—I'm ready for a bit of devilish negotiation." Neil quivered in evident discomfort, his apprehension palpable as he gazed upon Arthur's daring countenance. "B-but Arthur, the perils of such a venture—" Arthur waved away Neil's concerns with a dismissive flick of his hand. "Ah, stop your worrying, old chap! Adventure awaits, and who better than me truly to accompany Lucius on this bold journey?" Thus, with a mixture of reluctance and resigned acceptance, Lucius found himself entrusting his fate to the exuberant spirit of Arthur, their pact sealed in the crucible of necessity and the enigmatic allure of the unknown.

Lucius and Arthur made their way through the portal once more, Arthur's easy smile never faltering. As they traversed into the unknown, an unmistakable metamorphosis took hold, their attire shifting to match the infernal landscape. In contrast to his apprehension, Arthur was exuberant, delighting in the swift transformation. "Look at this outfit!" Arthur remarked, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "It accentuates my—ahem—assets quite nicely."

Lucius couldn't help but shake his head, a semblance of amusement tugging at the corners of his lips. Amidst the slate-grey environs, their journey led them to Lucifer’s presence once more, and they began their arduous negotiations. As Lucius awaited his turn outside, each moment stretched into an eternity, the weight of his fate bearing down on him. When summoned inside, Lucifer's offer was delivered with an air of finality—Arthur would remain in Hell for a month, and only then would Lucius find his deliverance. Though taken aback by the stipulations, Lucius held tight to hope, a vow etched in his heart that they would emerge from this infernal ordeal unscathed.

Arthur settled into his newfound surroundings with ease, his exuberant charisma illuminating the bleak corners of hell. Engaging Lucius in conversation one day, he couldn't help but notice the lingering discontent etched across Lucius' features.

"Lucius, why so glum?" Arthur queried, his tone carrying an air of affable curiosity. "This place isn't half bad for us young devils. The pleasures that adorn our grasp are unparalleled, and freedom unfurls without consequence. Let's savor our time here." Lucius averted his gaze, grappling with the dissonance that warred within him. "I cannot find solace in a realm suffused with torment and despair, Arthur. This isn't who I am, nor who I wish to be." Arthur nudged a discarded skull, a veil of mischief coloring his features as he spoke. "Indeed, the lost souls stagnate within a dismal shroud, but it does not define us. We can escape this fate and return to the mortal realm. Let us cherish our reprieve." With a cheerful grin, Arthur nudged the nearby skull and proposed a whimsical game of field hockey, the sound of jovial laughter echoing in the desolate expanse.

As the days melded into nights, Lucius found an unexpected reprieve in the evenings spent with Arthur, their camaraderie breathing a newfound sense of exhilaration into the grim far reaches of hell. In a surprising turn of events, Hell seemed to shed its formidable visage as the duo whiled away the hours with their impromptu hockey games, the resounding echoes of their laughter weaving through the otherwise desolate halls.

Upon their return to the human world, to Lucius' astonishment, his appearance remained unchanged. It was a jarring realization, and he couldn't stifle his disbelief as he uttered a baffled exclamation into the lingering portal. "Lucifer, you've neglected to release me!" Lucius bellowed forth, a bewildered fervor coloring his words. To his surprise, a poignant rejoinder wafted through the portal, spoken with a suave, unrestrained mirth. "I hold no responsibility in this matter, Lucius," Lucifer's voice carried forth, resonating with unbridled amusement. "You have willingly and ardently embraced your time with Arthur, solidifying your transformation into a jock. And as for you, Arthur, our previous agreement stands, now binding Lucius as well." Beside him, Arthur stood with a mixture of reluctance and dawning comprehension etched across his features, a solemn nod of acknowledgement punctuating his silent acceptance of the pact.

"Lucius, there's something I must divulge," Arthur began, his voice laden with deep-seated trepidation. "I made a pact with Lucifer regarding your release from Hell." Perplexed, Lucius regarded Arthur with a furrowed brow, a ripple of uncertainty coursing through him. "What pact?" he inquired, his voice tinged with a burgeoning unease. "I struck a deal with Lucifer that a jock who emerges from Hell should continue to serve him. Seduce, corrupt, and delight in the souls of the young, all for the pleasure of Lucifer," Arthur revealed, his words exuding an aura of solemn resolve. "I had no inkling that it would ensnare you as well."

Lucius exhaled a heavy sigh, grappling with the weight of his impending destiny. "I wanted to return home, Arthur, but not like this," he confided, his gaze laced with a tempest of emotions. "Yet, you're the only one who's had stood by me." With a solemn resolve, he draped his arm over Arthur's shoulder, a newfound camaraderie binding them in unforeseen solidarity. "Now," Lucius declared, a glint of unwavering determination glittering in his eyes, "you're my jock brother. Let's navigate this uncertain path together." Perplexed, Arthur sought clarity, his expression a canvas of swirling emotions. "What do you plan to do, Lucius?" he inquired, his voice edged with a tentative resolve. "Let's beat up that craven coward Neil," Lucius proclaimed, a fervent zeal infusing his words. "Are you in?" An impish grin played at the corners of Arthur's lips, an air of unyielding mischief enveloping him. "Neil is no longer of concern," he divulged, an undertone of satisfaction weaving through his words. "He's part of my pact with Lucifer — an ensnared soul. I had intended to pledge Hanna to Lucifer, but he demurred, deeming her veganism is self-made Hell on Earth already."

Neil's incredulous protests echoed into the night as the earth split asunder, a vortex spiriting him into the inky abyss.

Lucius, now at the helm of the debating club and vice-captain of the hockey team, reveling in his newfound athletic prowess both on the field and in his amorous escapades.

Time churned forward, paving the way for Arthur's and Lucius' shared triumphs and conquests, their lives intertwined in unanticipated tumult and unyielding satisfaction. Amidst the frenzied whirlwind of their newfound existence, Lucius had come to embrace the heady thrill of vanity and conceit, relishing in the unabashed freedom that crested upon their newfound paths.

#male tf #male transformation #personality change #nerd to jock #devil

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