#anmitsu writes

[jellyheadwriting]

UHM THIS IS MY FIRST EVER REQ SO I HOPE I'M DOING THIS RIGHT. I loved your Shinji writing sm. I would love it if you could write [g/n] reader making a midnight snack with Shinji. No more stresses of school or tartarus for now just happily munching on stuff together before it's time to hit the sack. And maybe he tucks you in bc you nagged him THANKS MATE 👍

Hi!!! Thank you so much, I am honored to be your first request!!!! ( ´ ▽ ` ) I hope you like it...!!!

anmitsu (shinjiro x GN reader)

It was a warm June night.

All of your dormmates were fast asleep in their rooms, with all the gentleness of a baby who tuckered itself out from crying. An era of peace rested with you and your teammates… By some miracle, you are all happy and healthy.

Yes, everyone was snoozing away - Aside from Shinjiro and yourself. At this time of night, Midnight, you enjoyed time alone together.

Shinji sat upright on one of the lounge area’s couches, while you laid your head on his lap. Your eyes were on the TV, and his eyes were on you, his hand petting your head as you watched the cooking show he put on intently.

“Are… Are you sure you’re fine with watching this?”

He spoke quietly, with a slightly dry throat causing his voice to come out hoarse. Naturally, you looked up at him and reassured him that you liked watching this show with him.

“Hm,” He smiled, caressing your cheek with the backside of his hand. It felt like a feather tickling you.

Both of you looked at the screen now - The dish from earlier had finished being prepared, and they moved onto the next. Now they had begun to prepare a bowl of Anmitsu, a traditional dessert from the Meiji Era. Some example photos popped up on the screen, it looked so refreshing… Your stomach loudly growled.Shinji turned his attention back to you, and you hid your face with your hands, embarrassed that your emotions portrayed themselves so easily. He snickered at you, petting you again, offering reassurance.

“Hungry?” He asked you simply, since he already knew the answer.

“Anmitsu,” you repeated. “I’ve never had it…”

“ ‘S That so…”

A moment of silence passed. He scratched his cheek, eyes wandering to the front door as he thought.

“You wanna try it?”

You looked at him in happy disbelief, sitting up a little. You excitedly asked if he knew how to make it.

“Course I do,” he said, looking back at the screen to watch as they prepared it on the television. “Not like it’s hard. And, we have a couple of the ingredients here. Hm…”

He lightly tapped your shoulder, queuing you to let him stand up. After stretching a little, he looked back at you and gave you another small, yet warm smile. He grabbed his wallet off of the coffee table, and began to walk towards the entrance.

“Wait, are you going to the store? Let me go with you,” you said, suddenly feeling a bit guilty.

“No, you stay here,” He told you while slipping his shoes on. “I’m not gonna let you walk around at this hour. I won’t take long, promise.”

You weren’t feeling particularly stubborn tonight, so you decided to let him go. Not before telling him to be safe, though. He smiled, and you felt like you had ascended to heaven, seeing him smile so much in one night. When the door closed, indicating his departure, you turned your head back to the TV. About 20 minutes passed, and just as you were about to nod off, the front door opened again. You stumbled up from the couch to greet him, smiling with a sleepy face. He chuckled at your expression, reaching out to ruffle your hair.

“Sorry… That took a little longer than I thought. I had to stop by another store on the way home.”

You shook your head, telling him that it was okay. He thanked you, and took off his shoes again, heading for the kitchen. You followed him giddily, shaking away your drowsiness.

He wasted no time in preparing everything in the kitchen he would be using to prepare the Anmitsu. Curiously, he only brought out one serving bowl… You guessed that maybe he didn’t want any, and your heart hurt as you realized he was doing all of this just for you. You tugged his shirt, asking him if there was anything you could do to help.

“Hmm… You can stir the water and agar-agar powder while I prepare the fruit.. Just gimme a sec to get it going.”

You watched him with admiration as he filled a pot with water, mixing the ingredients together. You knew that he didn’t want you to do anything. He was probably just letting you stir so that you wouldn’t feel bad. Eventually you were in front of the pot, stirring as Shinjiro got out the store-bought dango. He stepped in between you and the pot before you knew it, telling you that you did a good job before pouring the hot mixture into a baking dish. He stuck that into the fridge, urging you to take a seat for a moment.

You did as you were told again, wishing to soak up his kindness like a sponge.

He brought out the cutting board, and turned to face you. “What kinda fruit do you want in it? We have a couple fruits in the fridge right now.”

You told him your preferences and he nodded, retrieving your selection.

The rest happened in a flash, he cut the agar-agar jelly into cubes, sliding them into the bowl he set out earlier. Next came the red-bean paste, the dango, the fruit, the Kuromitsu syrup, and finally a scoop of vanilla ice cream. Shinjo brought the bowl over, gently setting it in front of you. Your eyes sparkled with amazement, and he handed you your spoon, with a surprising amount of smugness, small as it was.

You thanked him for the food, and dug in. It was just as delicious as you imagined… He watched you eat it with a warm expression.

“Here Shinji,” you said, “Please have some.”

He hesitated, but after you gave him puppy eyes, he opened his mouth for you. You gave him the best spoonful you could manage, and fed him.

His cheeks warmed as he accepted.

“Isn’t it yummy,” you inquired.

He got a little more embarrassed at your praise, but he nodded.

As you finished the bowl, you gave him more spoonfuls, and he bashfully accepted all of them. Once you got to your last bite, you began to feel sleepy again, hazily setting your spoon down…You thanked him again, reaching out to hold one of his hands.

“I think it’s time to go to bed,” he got up from his chair, moving closer to you to help you out of yours. You agreed, rubbing your eyes as you stood up, holding onto him. You felt a little sad to be parting ways, even if you were both just going back to your rooms. You pleaded with him, asking if he would sleep with you in your bed.

“Huh?” he choked, looking surprised at you. “Do you know what you’re saying?”

You grumbled, and he sighed with restraint. As the two of you ascended upstairs, you spoke up again with another request.

“Can you at least tuck me in?”

He studied you, sighing again, but with a softness this time. “Alright, alright… Do you know how hard it is to say no to you…?”

While in your room, he helped you into bed, pulling back your blankets, and letting them fall gently back over you once you laid down. He smoothed your comforter out, and switched off the lights.

“Goodnight,” he said, and then attempted to exit.

You whined, and he turned around, shyly approaching you again. You asked him where your kiss was. He sighed his deepest sigh of the night, and leaned down, his lips ever so lightly brushing your cheek.

You finally told him goodnight, and fell asleep before you could memorize the cute face he was making.

#shinjiro aragaki x reader #thank you so much!!!!!!!! #my first request couldnt have been more cute #gn reader #i love shinjiro please come again #fluff

[soleilnomoon]

Hi again! Still absolutely adore your Kid fic from your last event 💜 Never got around to asking for a Sanji one, so here I am again😅 But seriously, congrats on over 550 followers!! Love seeing your blog grow, cause you’re really talented and deserve them all and legit can’t wait til you hit 1k+ 🥰

For the event order, may I please ask for a #1 with my boi Sanji, with anmitsu, konpeito, and keylime pie and with honey, please? 🥹 i hate this but need some sanji angst 😭

I also dunno if these three would work particularly well together for a prompt, so you can choose whatever! just really feeling angst and sanji rn and maybe comfort if you’d like 🥰

Thank you for all your works you’ve done so far 💜💜

hiiii omg haha i loved that fic fr (i'm obsessed w that man!!!) also ily for requesting sanji i don't write him nearly enough 🥰️ but thank you sm!! 😭 making me all soft and i am so so sorry this took forever, as u know i am so slow but!!! i had fun tormenting sanji w the angst ngl 💓💓💓💓 also those were great choices for the prompt, i wanted to write more but it would've been 8k words before i finished and who has time for that (i do, but listen... that's besides the point) ✨

2k words, fem reader (honestly gn too now that i think abt it), sfw (SHOCKING i know), 18+ mdni, a lil bit suggestive but nothing wild, angst angst angst city babey, fluff if you squint, also i gave u comfort bc u deserve it bb 💗(and sanji does too); feat. sanji being in denial forever and ever, mutual pining, fake unrequited love, reader is determined and sanji is a coward; also i made myself sad writing this but a good sad bc sanji deserves happiness and i'll fight oda if he doesn't get it i s2g... (if u see grammar mistakes/spelling errors... no u didn't 💗)

“loving each other began this way: threading / loneliness into loneliness / patiently, our hands trembling and precise.” — yehuda amichai

STEP 01:

what does it take to kill a soul? —

a question that’s posed unironically, without a hint of remorse or tact, the words precise and venomous, slicing through the thick veneer that he’s carefully crafted. he’s never been able to answer that question — not at six years old, not twelve or fifteen, and not at twenty-one. his siblings took pleasure in taunting him with seemingly philosophical questions, ones that clamped down onto his thoughts with heavy shackles.

even after he’s extracted himself from that life, he can’t scrub those memories from his mind — no matter how hard he tries. they sit, still raw and bloody, giving rise to unpleasant emotions that make his stomach churn from so many things left unsaid. he never set out to be a pirate, but piracy has given him the sort of freedom that he could only wish for as a child.

it’s with tender hands, with nimble yet graceful fingers, and with a fastidiousness that puts him in a category of his own, that he creates and creates and creates —

he’s told he’s an artist, which only pushes him to work harder, to be better. and when he asks himself why, he doesn’t have an answer. or, rather, the answer he does have only serves as a punishing reminder that he’ll never be good enough. no matter how many times his crew mates thank him — their emphatic, genuine praise a soft, warm breeze against his heart, gentle caresses that he commits to memory — despair still manages to infiltrate, a darkness choking out what little light he has left inside of him.

STEP 02:

how far are you willing to go to reach the truth? —

when you join the crew, he’s unnerved by your presence, which is wholly unlike him. usually, he’s able to put on his façade of the flirtatious cook, one that’s jovial and sociable, that lives to serve and please those around him. his first conversation with you ends in disaster; he spills the drink he tried to pour for you, despite your insistence that you are perfectly capable of pouring your own drink — and he knows it’s not out of malice, but it cuts into him all the same.

he tries again and again, bringing you little treats that you only agree to eating if he sits and eats with you; confusion eats away at his mind, and when he opens his mouth to decline, you pat the seat next to you and he acquiesces. he sits stiffly, at first, unsure of why he always feels on edge around you — an irritating need to impress you in a way he’s never wanted to for others grows stronger by the day.

you think it’s cute that he always seems flustered around you — that he stumbles over his words, refuses to hold eye contact with you for longer than thirty seconds — you also think it’s cute that the false bravado that he puts on for the world, diminishes immediately the second you come close to him. if he’s skittish, it’s because you always catch him staring at you; despite his quick reflexes, his reactions around you are slow but pure — childish, almost.

lately he’s clumsier and scatterbrained, nearly burning dinner when you decide to keep him company. you lean against the countertop, a teasing smile on your face — the same one that that caused him to bump his forehead against the cabinet door earlier — as you prattle on about a dream you had. he can barely keep up, his eyes drifting from the skillet to your face, gliding around the curve of your cheek, dipping lower in a slow descent along your neck.

he blinks repeatedly when he reaches your clavicle, stunned at his restraint; and it’s only when you call his name loudly that he realizes he’s left the heat on for too long.

“are you okay?” you ask when you see that he’s fussing over how best to save the dish, mouth moving as he quietly mutters to himself. he barely registers your voice, as an insidious one whispers harshly into his ears about his perpetual incompetence and lack of talent.

you can see that he’s retreated even further into his mind, a feat that also leaves you frustrated. you want to shake him but refrain and grab his hand instead. he snaps out of whatever stupor that held him captive just moments ago, lips parting as he sighs softly before glancing down at you.

“thank you.”

the words are quiet, but impactful, as he didn’t think he’d be able to get them out. you let go of his hand too soon, but he doesn’t say anything else, choosing to focus on cooking than embarrassing himself again in front of you.

you take his silence as a silent dismissal, but you don’t fight him on it — it’s bitter, that sort of rejection, and you swallow back your argument with great difficulty.

STEP 03:

what’s the difference between cowardice and self-preservation? —

frustration bubbles underneath his skin when he can’t find where he placed his lighter; he runs a hand through his hair and tugs on impulse, accidentally ripping a few strands from his scalp. they swirl and tumble onto the ground, pathetic in a way — just like me, but he never really says that out loud. he doesn’t hear your footsteps, although you did your best to remain as quiet as possible.

a cigarette sits in between his lips, and he has half a mind to toss it over the railing of the ship, but a warmth suddenly appears in front of him in the form of a flame. you found his lighter on the floor earlier and meant to give it to him, but every time you got closer, he found every excuse to leave. you don’t realize the impact you have on him — not really, anyway — because he’s genuinely surprised that you can’t hear the heavy beats of his heart that grow more intolerable the longer he hangs around you.

always afraid of being found out, he opts to keep his distance. it’s easier this way, he tells himself, better. but he doesn’t quite believe that; the evidence is plain as day when his tongue feels like its grown three sizes in the span of seconds, where his words get lost and forgotten. it’s all your fault, he reasons; you who insists on talking candidly with him, who insists on listening to him ramble about his dreams, who absolutely insists on stubbornly tearing down his walls, steadily chipping away without a care in the world. he looks at you as if you are the source of all his problems, but he also looks at you as if you’re the solution.

the intensity behind his stare makes your hands tremble slightly, it’s a miracle you’ve managed to keep yourself composed for this long. you light the end of his cigarette with ease, as if you’ve done this for him hundreds of times —and place the lighter into his pants pocket afterwards. if he wasn’t so used to you getting in his personal space all the time, he’d retreat immediately. the proximity is almost too much for him, but he doesn’t step back; you take that as a good sign and keep him company for a few minutes.

you don’t care for the smell of smoke, but on him it smells good. you almost tell him that, but instead bite down on your lip and keep your comment at bay, nerves getting the best of you as you nearly choke on the possibility that your feelings won’t be reciprocated.

another time, maybe. cheeks flushed, you turn your face to look elsewhere. although, you wonder if there ever will be another time. with him, you never know.

he’s still trying to figure you out and why he feels a different sort of calm around you; it’s alarming and new, drumming up an irrational fear within him. he doesn’t think he’s deserving of your attention or affection, and he’s convinced himself that you don’t harbor any romantic feelings for him. and why would you?

one by one, his thoughts pummel into him, acerbic and overwhelming. he exhales a sliver of smoke and puts the cigarette out. he gives you a quick, apologetic look before telling you goodnight, the smile on his face is melancholic and barely existent. you don’t dare say a word, keep your lips pressed together stubbornly; exasperated and dejected, you don’t know what’s worse — his inability to lower his guard around you for longer than ten minutes, or your inability to stop yourself from trying to carve pieces of yourself to give to him.

maybe if you helped him fill the gaping holes in his heart, he’d truly understand how you feel.

STEP 04:

if you had to do it all over again, would you do anything differently? —

sleep evades you after that night, and the night after that, and so forth; it gets so bad that you’re yawning in the middle of the day, falling asleep before you can have a cup of coffee or tea. this does not go unnoticed by the others, and after talking with nami, you feel less out of your element and finally can see the parts of sanji that he wants to keep hidden. her advice is simple: approach slowly and with intent; corner him and don’t let him escape.

you bide your time, full confident that you can find a moment to sit down with him and talk this all out. it doesn’t come easy, but franky mysteriously swaps sanji for the night’s watch — something that should strike you as odd, but it’s a small opening that you take without thinking as you hurriedly climb up to the crow’s nest with a renewed sort of energy.

even with his eyes closed, as he sits lazily on the bench with head tilted back against the wall, he knows it’s you.

“go back to bed,” he says firmly, refusing to look at you.

your stubbornness, unfortunately, wins out. “i’m staying.” at that he sits up, his attention completely on you as his eyes widen at your words. he wants to ask you why, but cowardice wins out — again. as his features soften, a flush crawls along his face, lightly painting his cheeks pink. he closes his eyes again, tries to steady his breathing as he counts backwards, only for his efforts to be obliterated with ease the moment you sit next to him.

as your thigh presses against his, you take his hand and on impulse you trace your fingertip along the lines on his palm. he watches you with a morbid fascination that scares him; but then you start to say things like, “you will live a very long life,” and “you are courageous, and you have a big heart.”

a small part of him wants to pull his hand away, so you won’t say anything else — but he remains put, so still that you almost think he’s stopped breathing. your voice is sweet and disarming, even when you carry on this charade of reading his palm. a belated realization hits him forcefully, making him blink several times; it dawns on him that you’ve always been so kind and gentle with him, even when you teased him. he’s spent all this time overthinking and hiding behind his past, that it never occurred to him that he could have simply let you in. you’ve never given him reason to believe that you’d betray or harm him intentionally.

he takes a deep breath, voice a little uneven, “i—”

you lean in close, adoration dripping onto your words as you interrupt him. “hey, have i told you?” the question glides along his skin, the words seeping into him as you continue, the lilt in your voice a honeyed, melodic spell. “you remind me of starlight and the mysteries of space.” your lips brush against his when you tell him that, and a warmth settles into the middle of his chest, makes it hard to focus. he doesn’t think when he curls his fingers around yours and doesn’t think when heleans down to kiss you — tender yet electrifying all the same.

the move disarms you in a way that doesn’t quite make sense to you, so you simply hum in approval and lean your head against his shoulder. a comfortable silence settles around you both, but you don’t mind that at all; it’s nice, not having to tip-toe around him anymore, and the demons that plagued him for so long don’t seem so intimidating with you by his side.

#fic request #milestone event #500+ followers event #🍭✨🍨sticky & sweet event🧁✨🍭 #one piece angst #one piece fluff #one piece x reader #one piece x y/n #vinsmoke sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji x y/n #sanji x reader #sanji x y/n #sanji angst #sanji fluff #i love sanji a normal amt as u can tell

[choconanime]

💕💕Twisted Wonderland Au💕💕

Wanted to draw my favorite OCS in twisted now that I been slowly coming back to it hahaha reblog appreciated🥺but Anyways profile under just so i don't hog anyone screen LOLOLOL

*•°* Kanae🐶 *°•*

Year: 1 year

Dorm: stagrove (fandorm belonging to @prometheanglory )

Birthday: 05/04

Age: 18

Height: 190 cm/6.2 ft

Dominant hand: Right

Origin: ------

Club: Track and Field

Best subject: PE/ defense magic

Hobby: cooking and hiking

Bad with: studying, formalities, keeping her voice low

Favorite food: Anmitsu with a butt load of syrup but steak sandwich also good

Disliked food: none

Special skill: Can cook something out of anything

Special magic: intimidate

Will paralyze the target after a command or scream, however it works best with animal's than humans as duration for it is lesser especially if they see it coming.

Kanae comes from the big city,often she even forgets formalities and will call people by familiar tittles like: big bro,big sis,lil bro,etc even uncle when referring to teachers. Despite her lack of formalities she does her best to keep up with the other's.

*•*Iogyoku👑*•*

Year: Year 3

Dorm: Pomefiore

Birthday: 09/19

Age: 19

Height: 173 cm/5.8 ft

Dominant hand: Right

Origin: -------

Club: Band but rarely shows up

Best subject: Magical potions/swimming

Hobby: Partying, breaking the rules at this point, lazy-ing around at monstro cafe

Bad at: keeping up appearances

Favorite food: Chicken nuggets

Disliked food: Pork

Special skills: Good at bargaining

Special magic: n/a

Despite being in Pomefiore, Io is well know by many in her dorm to be the one of the popular slacker's that "ruin" the dorm image and yet despite the many naggings she had heard of Vil, that hasn't stop her from acting wild and free, wanting to prove Vil theirs beauty in even the most "wildest" of people.

π°*• Kinjo Ritsuki 🦊•*°π

Year: 2 year

Dorm: Ignihyde

Birthday: 05/31

Age: 18

Height: 152 cm/4.11 ft

Dominant: Right

Origin: Land of Woe

Club: Band but only appears using her fox robot

Best subject: Ancient cursed/conjuration/Magic analyst

Hobby: Magic music, playing video games, playing with her robot fox

Bad with: Crowded area's/Defense magic

Favorite food: Oatmeal cookie Ice cream sandwiches

Disliked food: Garlic

Special skill: Can figure out what song you most likely like by hearing a few examples.

Special magic: n/a

Even in her own dorm she's only been seen once or twice out of her room, at least physically...people only interact with her via her Robot fox, "Kiri" that's connected to her via magic technology. Is unknown why she never leaves but people assume is related to the first day she came to Night Raven.

_°-_-°Mari Adami🗒️°-_-°_

Year: 3 year

Dorm: Heartslabyul

Birthday: 08/23

Age: 19

Height: 160 cm/5.3 ft

Dominant: ambidextrous

Origin: Queendom of Roses

Club: Horse-Riding club

Best subject: Magic analysis| Biology| Practical Magic | Mathematics |art

Hobby: Writing events in her journal

Bad with: Unplanned situations

Favorite food: Cinnamon rolls with coffe

Disliked food: tea

Special skill: Finding lost things

Special magic: n/a

Adami is known for her rather plain life style,good grades and boring Sence of fashion yet despite all that she does enjoys competing with others and once she's serious there's no coming back from it. It's rumored she escapes at night time to party with a certain, popular slacker in Pomefiore but she hasn't been caught in the act so not many are sure if that's true.

Brr ik i put a few in magic subject but i just couldn't decide just one so take it as best->medium best clases

#twisted wonderland oc #twisted wonderland #my art #art box #twst oc #Kiri #Adami #zinnia #io

[fieryanmitsu]

Intertwined Roots | ch. 10 - “colours” | A3! AU

Ahhh!! It’s been a loooong time since I updated Intertwined Roots, but I’m happy to be back!!

Now that things have died down with my fanzine projects, and work has calmed down (for now…), I’m really hoping to get back to writing regularly!!

Anyway, I’ve had the idea for this chapter in my head for a long time now so I’m excited to finally get this out! Hope you’ll enjoy!!

Tag List: @godlyazami @astryia

((I know it’s hard to track new posts on Tumblr, so if anyone wants to be on my tag list for this fic for updates, just let me know!! If you don’t want to be on the tag list anymore, just let me know as well! No pressure! 🙂))

“Intertwined Roots” is an A3! alternate universe series where Izumi, Itaru, Tsumugi and Tasuku grow up as childhood friends.

For the summary, background and notes about the “Intertwined Roots” universe, along with more chapters, please refer to the “Intertwined Roots” Masterpost.

Masterpost for my other fanfiction: here

AO3: Link in my Blog Menu!

INTERTWINED ROOTS – ch. 10

“colours” | summer | Tsumugi (age 7), Tasuku (age 6), Itaru (age 6) & Izumi (age 6)

“Hey, hey, what are we playing today?” Itaru asked. The four of them were currently gathered in Tasuku’s backyard.

“Since we’re all here, let’s play Robotranger!” Tasuku replied.

Itaru’s eyes lit up immediately. Both he and Tasuku were huge Robotranger fans. Tsumugi and Izumi didn’t watch as religiously as the other two, but had no objections.

“So, what colours are we gonna be?” Itaru prodded.

“I’m gonna be Black!” Tasuku exclaimed. “It’s the coolest colour.”

“Ummm, I guess I’ll be Blue?” Tsumugi replied after some thought.

“Taru, do you wanna be Red, Green or Yellow?” Tasuku asked, listing the remaining colours he could think of.

“I don’t wanna be the leader, so I’ll be Yellow,” Itaru answered.

“Oooh, then I’ll be—” Izumi started to say excitedly but was interrupted by Tasuku.

“Then, Zumi can be Pink.”

“WHAT?!” Izumi exclaimed indignantly, her cheeks flushing. “NO! I wanna be Red!”

Tasuku looked at her like she’d grown a second head.

“You’re a girl, so you’re Pink.”

“No way—that’s stupid! Red’s my favourite colour! I wanna be Red!!” Izumi huffed.

“Red’s the leader! You’re not a leader!” Tasuku retorted with a snort, crossing his arms.

“Nuh-uh! I am SO a leader!” she yelled back, glaring at the taller boy, her chin jutted out stubbornly. “Right, Taru?!”

“Yeah,” Itaru responded without hesitation. It was questionable if he actually meant what he said, but Izumi either didn’t notice or didn’t care.

“SEE?!”

“Stop agreeing with her all the time!” Tasuku snapped. Itaru just shrugged in response. He had an older sister—he knew where to pick his battles.

“C’mon, Tachan, why does it matter? No one else is Red, anyway,” Tsumugi said, trying to mediate. “Let’s just play.”

“Ugh, fine, whatever.”

“YAAAAY!”

“So, what’re we gonna do?” Tsumugi asked now that they’d settled their colour assignment.

“Hmmm, we’re about to meet up ‘cause we just got a signal on our bracelets that there’s danger!” Tasuku responded, shoving his arm out and tapping a spot on his wrist, pretending that there was a special bracelet there. “See, it’s flashing.”

The others nodded and fell into their roles.

“HEY! Black, you’re late!” Izumi immediately exclaimed.

“What?! I’m not late!” Tasuku retorted angrily.

“Yes, you are! You’re five seconds late! So, that means you’re late!”

“That’s not late at all! What about Yellow?! He’s behind me, so isn’t he late, too?!” Tasuku demanded, pointing at Itaru, who was several steps behind him.

“Actually, I’m not Yellow, anymore,” Itaru said suddenly.

“Huh? What do you mean you’re not Yellow?” Tsumugi asked, confused.

“I’m actually… Gold, now,” Itaru said in a low voice, trying to sound mysterious.

“What? But there’s no Gold Ranger,” Tasuku responded, completely breaking out of character at Itaru’s response.

“But Gold is a way cooler colour, don’tcha think?” Itaru replied. “I was thinking that I turn into the Gold Ranger ‘cause I was beaten by the enemy and then I trained super hard and gained new powers. So now I’m Gold ‘cause I leveled up.”

“What?! When did you get beaten by the enemy? We just started playing!” Izumi asked, trying to keep up with the sudden change in plot.

“Earlier, before we met up! It happened already!”

“Oooh! Oooh! If Taru’s Gold now, then can I be Silver?!” Tsumugi asked excitedly. Itaru’s new storyline sounded so neat, he wanted to join in, too. The sandy-haired boy turned towards Tsumugi and grinned in response.

“Yeah! Tsumu, you took a hit trying to protect me from the Evil Overlord!”

“It woulda been like—” Tsumugi jumped in front of Itaru, crossing his arms in an ‘X’ in front of his face. “YELLOOOOOOW!! I WON’T LET YOU DIEEEEE!”

“NOOOOOO! BLUE! IT’S TOO STRONG!!” Itaru cried out, gripping Tsumugi’s shoulders and shaking him. “IT’S GONNA… GET… US!!!”

Suddenly, the two yelled out in mock pain and promptly fell backwards onto the ground with a ‘thud’.

“Go… on… without us… Red… Black…” Itaru groaned feebly.

“Guuuuh,” Tsumugi moaned, sticking his tongue out and pretending to be dead(?).

Before Tasuku or Izumi could even respond, Itaru pushed himself upright and hauled Tsumugi up.

“And then, you two think we’re dead, but me and Blue actually go train in the mountains and perfect a super secret technique and then we become…” Itaru strikes a pose. “GOLD!”

“And… SILVER!” Tsumugi yells, joining in with his own pose.

“Wait! You guys have an adventure without us?!” Izumi exclaimed with a pout. “That’s not fair! I want a cool level-up!”

“Yeah, you guys can’t just make up something like that!” Tasuku agreed, putting his hands on his hips.

Suddenly, the back door slid open, and Fuyuki popped his upper body out. He was holding a plate of watermelon slices.

“Hey, you guys want some watermelon?”

Four pairs of eyes focused in on Fuyuki, startled by his abrupt entrance. Then, despite having been arguing with each other mere moments ago, they moved in sync and assembled into a staggered line, facing the back door. They each struck a pose and yelled out.

“How dare you steal the sacred watermelon!”

“You won’t get away with this!”

“Prepare yourself, Evil Overlord!”

“The Robotrangers are here to defeat you!!”

((I commissioned some artwork for this chapter of the fic, you can check it out HERE!))

Yes, this is definitely the start of chuuni Itaru and Tsumugi, haha. The funniest part about this is that… this wasn’t meant to happen. I was just meaning to write them arguing about their colour assignments, and it was just supposed to end with Fuyuki telling them not to argue. But, Itaru and Tsumugi took on a mind of their own and here we are.

Anyway, the inspiration for this chapter with the kiddos playing at being Power Rangers/Super Sentai was definitely inspired by both Tasuku’s Mankai Ranger card (did anyone catch the reference I made, haha?) and my own memories of playing Power Rangers when I was a kid. I had an absolute blast writing this chapter, so I hope you enjoyed it as well!

Thanks for reading!! Feel free to leave a comment and reblogs are always appreciated!

-Anmitsu

#a3! #a3! game #a3! act! addict! actors! #a3! act addict actors #act addict actors #act! addict! actors! #A3 #tsumugi tsukioka #itaru chigasaki #tasuku takato #izumi tachibana #a3! intertwined roots #anmitsu writes

[tl-notes]

Kobayashi’s Maid Dragon S2 Episode 10 Notes

I’m extremely not an expert in birds, but I tried to look these up to see if they were a species native to New York (since they’re similar to the sparrows we usually see around Kobayashi’s place). Apparently there are few similar-looking species in New York? My totally uninformed guess is that they may be house sparrows.

The sun sets in Japan relatively early (probably around 6:30pm when this episode takes place), which would make it entirely plausible that if she just flew east (with a slight northward angle) she’d find herself over New York in the early morning while most of the rest of the country is still dark.

These bumpy grey pads at the pedestrian part of the intersection here are known as (among other things) tactile paving; they’re to assist people who can’t fully rely on eyesight to get around.

Interestingly (imo), they were actually invented in Japan in the 60s (by a Miyake Seiichi), where today they’re extremely ubiquitous. They even show up later this episode!

They’re often referred to in Japan as 点字ブロック, tenji (Braille) blocks, and they tend to come in two types: the “dot” design, which indicates a place to stop (or an angle change, or more generally “caution”), and the “line” design which indicates you can safely keep going. They’re generally colored yellow in Japan, ideally making them stand out more to help people with impaired vision find them, and are mandated by law in most places public transport can be found (among others).

Not really a translation note, but “deer cola” felt especially funny in the context of all the horse medicine stuff. 

I guess “[animal] [drink]” is a common branding device in-universe, given the crab beer Kobayashi’s always drinking.

Also not really a translation note, but the difference between how “hard” Kanna and Chloe are running to be at the same speed was a nice animation touch.

遊んだ遊んだ！ asonda asonda!

One feature of the Japanese language is a very heavy use of repetition. This includes “reduplication,” a linguistic term for creating words by repeating a root (e.g. a “boo-boo” in English or the dara-dara example below in Japanese), but also just like… saying the same word multiple times, as Chloe does here.

Typically this is done for emphasis or to help increase clarity: if you’ve worked in a Japanese office, you’ve likely heard someone in a phone conversation say desu desu in response to someone asking for confirmation. 

This acceptance of repetition sort of extends beyond the obvious uses like this as well: for example, personal pronouns are much less common; instead (if the subject isn’t dropped) you’ll often just use the person’s name again. You’ll notice similar trends with other types of words as well.

Not to mention the ubiquity of things like otsukare.

This often ends up being a challenge for translators, because reusing words in English (when it’s not for an obvious reason) tends to stick out rather unflatteringly, even if they aren’t that close together. 

(Like when I overuse “hence” in these notes.)

This “Christ” in the Japanese was “ったく” (short for 全く mattaku, but just used as a semi-generic exclamation). I mostly bring this up because it’s a good example of a word that doesn’t work out of its cultural context; e.g. it wouldn’t make any sense for a fantasy character to say “Christ,” but since this is an American speaker it works just fine (and helps distinguish that fact, even). 

I think I’ve mentioned this before, but English uses a lot of “explicit reference” words like this, that can break immersion if put in the mouths of characters who wouldn’t have exposure to said reference—which can be annoyingly limiting when trying to write dialogue sometimes.

As a bit of a culture shock for a lot of Americans I’ve met, most Japanese homes tend to have wall mounted air conditioning units, like this one, that are only for heating/cooling the one room they’re in. (Many also have a “Dry” setting that makes them act kind of like a dehumidifier as well.) It’s common to not have them in every room, like bedrooms, however.

This is in contrast to the central air conditioning system used by a majority of homes in the US (though type/use of AC in the US varies a lot by region; less common in the north for example)—and places like the UK where apparently residential AC units of any kind are quite rare.

You may have noticed that the doors between rooms always seem closed in Kobayashi’s apartment. That’s not just to make the backgrounds simpler, it’s also a good habit to keep if you’re going to be running the AC!

“Kobayashi, are you お休み today?” 

“Yeah, お休み.”

お休み o-yasumi, is a noun form of the 休む yasumu, to rest. The word has a variety of applications, as we see here. A day off work/school, i.e. a rest day? お休み. Want to say “good night” to someone before bed? Also お休み.

In this case, it’s not even necessarily clear it’s being said as a pun; as mentioned earlier, repetition is a common feature of the language, so despite the yawn there wouldn’t really be any reason for Kanna to think Kobayashi was about to go to nap or anything.

“Laze about” here is だらだら dara-dara, another phenomime (擬態語 gitaigo in Japanese)—one of those words that mimics the “sound” of an idea/concept/state, which don’t actually make a sound per se.

These phrases aren’t necessarily childish or anything (overuse of them can be, but you can find them even in news articles and political speeches for example). They are, however, used frequently by children, and by adults talking to children, as they’re very “easy” words: they’re expressive, they capture useful daily-life concepts, and they usually roll off the tongue. You’ll notice, for example, that Kanna uses them a lot.

Kanna has a very interesting way of talking actually, which I’ll touch on a bit more later.

Kobayashi’s “bean jam” here is あんみつ anmitsu, a traditional Japanese dessert (technically a spinoff of mitsumame). It typically is a mix of red beans (and/or red peas), agar (an algae-based gelatin equivalent), some fruit, some variety of rice flour product (shiratama in this case, similar to mochi), and a syrup (often black sugar based).

You can find it year-round, but it has a strong summer association and is even used as a summer season word. (It’s typically chilled and you can often get it with ice cream as an ingredient.)

It’s also sometimes paired with a green-tea flavored something as well (e.g. ice cream, agar, or syrup). The trinity of green tea, red beans (aka azuki), and shiratama makes what I like to think of as the “Japanese S’mores Flavor (for Adults)”. No I will not elaborate on this.

I will though point out the shaved ice flavor Kobayashi ordered later in the episode:

え？今スイカ様子あった？

A word of note here for language learners is 様子 yousu, which has a lot of definitions, but in cases like this where it’s attached to a noun or phrase means roughly “the appearance of __” or “an indication of ___” etc. In actual use, it typically means something that makes you think of whatever ___ is—or the lack of something that would make you think ___.

For example here, it’s like “Watermelon? Where’d that come from?” (since the TV was talking about a different dessert-y food entirely). 

Or an unrelated example: “I think that guy is hiding something” → “Really? I haven’t seen any yousu of that.” In other words, it can be a lot like “sign,” as in “I’ve seen no sign of ___.”

These color-bordered envelopes (originally colored based on the flag of the country of origin) used to be the standard for air mail, domestic or international, though they haven’t been required for several decades.

That said, they’re still popular for that “ooh, international mail!” feel (at least in Japan) and you can buy them at most places that sell stuff like envelopes. As here, they’re often used in media to immediately convey that a letter came from outside Japan.

Kanna (and Kobayashi) says エアメール, lit. “air mail” in English, which is used colloquially for international mail specifically, rather than “mail sent by plane.”

They’re having what’s called 冷やしそうめん hiyashi soumen, chilled/cold soumen for lunch here. (Soumen being a thin wheat noodle; udon but thinner.) As Kanna says, it’s very easy to make!

Basically you just boil it, wash it in cold water, add ice, get some sort of sauce to dip it in, and you’re done! It’s a popular quick meal in summer, and much easier than the more involved nagashi soumen setups you may have seen elsewhere, where they slide the noodles down a chute for you to try to grab and eat. (It’s basically the same meal aside from that though.)

(You can of course add more to it, but as we see here, you don’t really have to.)

The type of tea here, for the curious, is 麦茶 mugicha, barley tea. Mugi is the general name for cereals/grains including wheat (komugi), barley (oomugi), rye (kuromugi or rye mugi), and oats (enbaku or oat mugi). It’s incredibly common in Japan (and much of East Asia), where it's the household summer drink.

It has no caffeine like many other teas, and has a bunch of various nutritional benefits, so it’s considered a good way to stay hydrated as you’re sweating buckets in the muggy Japanese summer weather.

帽子した？  boushi shita? した！ shita!

I thought this was a cute way of phrasing this question/answer, and a good example of the “parent and their young child” way these two talk.

The suru (past tense shita) verb used here is the ultimate in “generic verb,” and it basically doesn’t get any simpler grammar-wise to phrase something as “noun+suru” like Kobayashi does here (even the particles are dropped). 

Kanna, for her part, doesn’t respond with a “yes” or etc, but instead just repeats back the verb itself in confirmation.

Just to note another one of those words like dara-dara: bura-bura, used for things like wandering around, doing something (or nothing) casually/aimlessly, or (with one bura) for something dangling/swinging in a more literal sense, like a spider, slack yo-yo, or wind chime.

These booklets are a common homework assignment for practicing kanji; you can see along the left side there it shows the stroke order, with the first block giving an example to trace over & showing where to start each stroke.

Each character is made up of radicals (e.g. “hot” above: 日 and 耂), which each have a standard way to write them. There’s 214 such radicals (though many are pretty niche; only about ~50 of them are needed to make most characters), and once you get a hang of them it makes learning new characters much easier (not too different from learning word spellings in English imo).

Kanna is repeating out loud the reading for the “hot” character as she writes it.

In addition to the above workbooks (which usually involve both kanji and math problems at Kanna’s grade), elementary school summer homework in Japan typically involves doing an illustrated diary (not a daily one necessarily) and some sort of research project about a subject of your choice. (Think kind of like a small science fair project).

The “research” project part is pretty expansive, and you can typically even do something more arts & craftsy for it.

Manhole covers in a lot of Japanese municipalities feature art representative of the area. For example, the city of Chofu, where the author of GeGeGe no Kitaro lived most of his life, has several with art of that series.

(Photo from https://www.gotokyo.org/jp/spot/1734/index.html)

I mentioned earlier that Kanna has an interesting way of speaking. Probably a better way to put it is that she has a pretty convincingly childish way of speaking (despite the monotone). That is, she uses simple grammar and “easy” words most of the time, but then throws out random big words and fancy idioms from time to time that make you go “...where did you learn that?”

In this case, the phrase she uses is 巷で人気 chimata de ninki. Chimata originally means like a fork (in the road), and since those are often places with lots of people passing through, it expanded to mean “the undefined place where people talk about ~stuff~.” So it’s used for “many people are saying~” or “word on the street is~” types of situations (or “talk of the town,” as here).  

It’s kind of an “adult” word though; for example the character for it isn’t included in the jouyou kanji (the 2000+ that are taught in elementary through high school). Hence Kobayashi’s reaction here.

The word she uses for “protected” here is 死守 shishu. The word is the combination of the characters for “death” and “protect,” ~meaning to protect something even at risk to one’s life (to the death, as it were).

It's a word that you learn in third grade in the Japanese education system—the same grade Kanna is in!

Both of these types of signs are common sights in residential areas like this: depending on where you live, it can feel like there’s always some sort of construction project going on, and Japan’s many family/individually-owned businesses like this tend to be closed on various extra days during the summer (and certain other times) to allow for time off.  

In this case, them being closed August 12th~16th implies they’re taking off for Obon (and probably leaving town to visit family).

The word Kobayashi uses here is 風物詩 fuubutsu-shi. Fuubutsu refers to something that makes up part of the “scenery” of a place or season, in a pretty broad sense. This shi typically means “poem.”

So fuubutsu-shi is originally a type of poem celebrating a season or a scene of natural beauty, that sort of thing. From that, it’s also now (more popularly) used to describe things that are representative of a season; the kind of stuff you say “it’s not winter until…” about, or “you know it’s summer when…” (It can also be used for places + seasons, like the ice sculptures of Hokkaido winters, or even summer Comiket in Tokyo.)

They’re very similar to the season words I’ve mentioned previously, though they’re far less strict about what counts as one. Here, Kobayashi’s could be referring to the whole package experience of “having to take cover and wait out a sudden heavy rain, despite it being mostly clear skies a few minutes ago,” which you could call fuubutsu-shi (summed up probably as like 夏の雨宿り etc.)

In contrast the relevant season word here would probably be yuudachi (or niwaka-ame), a word referring to the short, sudden bouts of rain that tend to fall (from cumulonimbus clouds, the makings of which are noticeable in the backgrounds before this) on summer evenings.

Feels like in season one she woulda eaten it. Three cheers for character growth!

The parentheticals there are just the “English” in hiragana/katakana.

Kobayashi’s comment (nihongo de ok, roughly “you can just use Japanese”) is an internet-born term people originally would use to reply to someone who said something that didn’t make any sense, had terrible grammar, or was so full of katakana loanwords it was hard to read etc.

Kanna says this line in English, and while I have no proof at all, my guess is that the specific choice of “wicked” was taken from the translation of “maji yabakune?” used in season one.

#maidragon #Miss Kobayashi's Dragon Maid #kobayashi-san chi no maid dragon #translation notes #anime

[pseudofaux]

even an injured hand grasps at grace

A lonnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnng time ago I did a follower celebration with short fictions and promised a longer story to the winner. That (incredibly patient) winner was @fieryanmitsu, who asked for a story set after Mitsuhide’s Act II. Holidays, family stuff, a global pandemic, more family stuff, a crisis of creative drive, MORE holidays and MORE time later... Here, at last, it is. Anmitsu, thank you so much for participating in that follower celebration, for being so kind about the mortifying amount of time this has taken, and for being a fellow Cat Daddy fangirl. I am very, very grateful for your grace! M, 6000 words, SLBP Mitsuhide. CWs: obvious but unnamed depression, brief discussion of death by weapons. (But mostly it is happy-thinky-poetic wife worship and baby fever.)

Sometimes when she is exhausted she speaks in this silly way. His love for her makes him warm to his toes. Adorable, his wife is adorable. He will never again allow any other duty to shove her out of the place she deserves in the center of his heart.

He will never hold a sword again. The discovery that there is still any strength in the arm once so mighty, enough that he can use it to work: a cause for gratitude and relief. A gift. He can attend to the responsibilities of his new life. He has a new life. Master Tenkai knows better than most men what death looks like when it bears down in a flash of metal. Sword death is the smooth silver of steel, spear death is the sluggish brown of mud that will cradle a dying man, and death by bullet is the black of blood that comes out so thick it is purple before it is red. Weapon deaths are cold, as though to compensate for the heat of their forging. There is a depth of balance in this that he cannot yet name, a mystery of the heavens like the others he spends so much time thinking about and helping the mountain villagers understand.

This new life is mostly keeping up their modest home (half residence, half tiny temple), and sharing knowledge with the villagers and their children. Of course he still thinks of Sakamoto when he sees the children growing... but his entire life he has been too much in his own head, and since they came to the mountain he has gotten better at leaving memories alone. He does not forget, and he hopes this makes him a decent man. Like any decent monk, he allows the thoughts of Sakamoto their due, which is to rest and flow over him as water flows over every side of a fish. It is right that it surrounds him. He could not and cannot do anything for Sakamoto, or address the irreparable harm he caused. He can consider it, meditate on it, and live with what he has done. And he will. Because he can live.

Swordwork’s precision and steadiness are forever gone from him, he believes. But he still has his arm and still has his life, even after he made peace with losing much more before Hideyoshi’s sword came down. He can pet the cats that congregate around the little temple, and he can twirl bits of string and stalks of grass for them. He can still write, his characters more calligraphic than they were before. He has to work hard to make clear strokes when he teaches the village children, and he feels that is a just requirement. When the house needs repairs, he can make them, and he can draw air into his lungs and live with his failures and successes both, or at least live with his failures and the grace he has been given. He has the brush, and he has the strong walking stick that his wife has helped him cut to the right height. The staff is smooth in his hand after only a few months’ use, a little extra oil applied when they have it. He wonders if he is allowed this easy comfort, but will not allow a walking stick to be a thing that trips his thoughts. His watchword now is moderation, not abnegation. If a fallen tree limb comes to him he will be grateful, and if the wood breaks he will let it go. He is willing, now, to let so much go.

There is only one exception, and she sleeps easy these days, when the cold of night on the mountain curls them together as though they are rabbits in a burrow. They wake slowly to this dream life. The part of him that is a decent monk cannot help but wonder how different their lives might be if it had been this for them all along. He did not want to rule; he had only ever wanted to spare others the hardships of ruling, and allow all good people the comfort of safety, from most divine ruler to most helpless child. These thoughts are in his head. Here in their tiny room in the building that is their home and the village’s temple, she is in his arms. In his heart and his bones, he knows that fact is grander than any man’s attempt at divinity.

He never has to force smiles at the children who come to the temple to learn. They are rowdy, eager, and completely charming. He is comfortably grinning at a group of them when he catches sight of her at the bend in the path that leads to their home. She is smiling, too, and there are tall leafy greens sticking out of the pack behind her shoulders that remind him of the folded wings of a fine hawk, the kind favored by samurai and nature alike. What would they do, if not for her hawklike competence and gentle ferocity?

Likely starve, he tells himself, on both melancholy days and happy ones. It is only the truth. He has learned a few things, but cannot match her, and while he is always available to the villagers, he stays near the temple unless he is asked for in the town. She does their shopping, she is their face. No one of quality can resist being won over by the warmth of her smile.

The children are thrilled to see her, and it reminds him of a dream he has had several times now, something he has kept to himself because it is so precious and he still does not want to ask anything of her. He is not sure if the slips of dream come from the peace of their life or the torment they left behind them, whether the dream is reward or recompense. But the cheers of the children take hold of his heart and make a tapestry of the scraps of his happiest dreams, weaving them tightly with what he is truly seeing. His thoughts nearly take him to his knees-- or perhaps that is an insistent little person, tugging at the edge of his sleeve.

“Master Tenkai!” chirps the village child. “Hana is home, so it is time for our lesson!”

They teach the children together in the afternoon’s warm, clean light, and only send them home when it is time for her to prepare their evening meal and him to complete the evening sweeping of the temple floor. Later that night, she seems relaxed and sleepy next to him, full of food, full of love. She asks, “Do you remember when I asked you to bring me a stone, so I could make you pickles?”

That is a pleasant memory from their life before, a luminescent pearl floating through silt that suffocated so much happiness. But the memory itself is light. So his smile is easy and does not feel like punishment, and he nods and strokes the space between her shoulders.

“On this mountain I have all the stones I need,” she declares, pressing her cheek to his chest. The smoothness of her face is finer to him than any pearl, a marvel of sensation that settles him, instantly and completely. “And I will make you pickles every week, if you want them,” she adds.

Sometimes when she is exhausted she speaks in this silly way. His love for her makes him warm to his toes. Adorable, his wife is adorable. He will never again allow any other duty to shove her out of the place she deserves in the center of his heart.

“Only whenever you are inclined,” he says, drumming his fingertips to tickle her.

Her giggle is sleepy. “There’s not time to make them every day,” she quips, snuggling closer and sliding an ankle between his calves. He has only the one dream that is sweeter than his actual life, and he is keeping it close to his chest for now. But he will not keep anything closer to his chest than she is. They squeeze one another, and he expects they do not fully relax their arms until they fall asleep.

A winter has passed, and a spring. This is their first summer on the mountain, so they are learning the cycle of invigorating mornings, sweltering afternoons, and unpredictable nights. They have already learned from kind villagers how to best coax food from the pebbly soil of their garden, and their efforts in the summer are devoted to this every day until the air grows too hot and they retreat to the shade of the temple to fan themselves with their hands and drink water that (they hope) has managed to hold some of the chill of the night before.  

Every morning he braids her hair, and in these summer days a few strands always escape and stick to the back of her neck, temptations that coax him to bare her shoulders and murmur along the skin he worships. She often swats him away, because even after tending the garden there is plenty of work to do. But sometimes she does not swat him away at all, and some days she draws closer with a magnificent, confident need. He cannot determine if it is need for him or need to show him something, but each time, their bodies become hotter still, sweat running like streams and stinging their eyes even as it makes moving together easier.

There is a day at midsummer when they cannot help themselves, resting on the step to their home. They are covered from the relentless sun by the good new roof of the temple. He is vulnerable to melancholy in the heavy air that precedes a storm. She knows this. By the time the thunder and rain seem to be on every side of them, heaven’s own veil around the little holy place where they live, their hands are in each other’s hair, she is straddling him, and he is kissing her so deeply he can taste their midmorning snack. The last time she went to town she came back with karashi seeds, and their food this week has been bright in their mouths, cleansing and flavorful. He is hungry for it.

“Mitsuhide,” she pants quietly. The rain around them is so dense no one would hear her, but that name is never spoken above the softest whisper. Her other sounds are louder, even louder than the roar of the rain, and he loosens his hold on himself to match her. He groans as he tilts his hips up toward hers, everything that he is straining for her. They are so warm that even though the air is cooling around them, the rain may as well be steam. One of her hands slides from his hair to his neck and then down his chest, between their bodies, until she palms his insistence and he gasps for her until she squeezes. They moan together, unbearably hot in the sweet agony before they join.

“Now? Here?” he asks. They’re alone, but he craves her comfort as much as her indulgence. There is always a point where he stops asking, but before that he needs permission. She gives it in a nod and shuffles off his lap onto the floor, still stroking him through his clothing. Her clothes are already loose from their embrace, and she puts her other hand inside her collar and tugs down until she is cupping her breast. His blood in his ears is louder than rain or crashing waves or the war chorus of a hundred desperate men. He lunges at her, one hand in her hair and another at the back of her neck to soften her landing. When he is over her, he snarls at her temple before kissing the space with the beastliness that is revealed by these stormy days. It is a wet kiss, and because his tongue cannot taste enough of her he ends up licking from her cheek to her hairline. He savors her, salt and spice and earth and somehow his, as he pushes into her hand. She does not let go of him. He never wants to let go of her.

His hand slips from her neck into the heaven of her opened collar, and his thumb finds her nipple between her fingers. She lets go, gives herself to him, and he pants adoration into her ear as he rolls the peak, beautifully strong, until she moans. He knows this is right, that nothing else in the world is anything next to the truth of how right it feels to cage her in, make her tremble, and soothe her, serve her.

So he doesn’t hold back. He tells her she is the most wonderful, beautiful, desirable, beloved. His mind makes poetry for her and he licks the words onto skin he pinches delicately between his teeth. You are rainfall to a dying man, you are here, you feel better than breezes, you are mine. After all he has done, he remains a man, and a man is an animal, as any man who has gone to war can say with certainty.

The thin clothes he wears for gardening are sticking to his body, and he swears he can feel the drag of each thread against his skin as he moves with her, friction enough to spark a fire through their sweat. Her hand on him is maddening kindling.

“You are flames,” he declares as he ruts down into her hand. “You are burning me.” A man is an animal, a gasping creature not sophisticated enough to express all she makes him feel.

She slows her hand and hums, pleased by they way he gives himself over. That is the way they play. “It is too wet for flames,” she murmurs, as though she is consoling him instead of throwing tinder on the fire she has made. “Drown in me instead of burning, my love.”

The affection in her words soothes his amorous madness and spreads the familiar, comfortable warmth to all the tips of his body as the power shifts between them again. He loves her so much. Could any man convey so much feeling? To be an animal is not bad, but it is base, and she is made of heaven and still chooses to be with him. He smiles at her in wonder of all her beauty and bravery. He will focus on giving her anything that he can.

“Gladly,” he whispers, smiling wider. He takes her wrist and pulls her away from her work. When she complies and settles her hand against the floor by her head, he unties the rope of faded jute braids that hold her kosode closed at her hips. She is worthy of finery but dressed in these threadbare rags with him instead, and still her eyes say she has what she desires. As he drops the thick cord beside their bodies, he thinks he will try to find her a pretty bead, or even a nice smooth stone from the stream, something to adorn her middle and give her pleasure when she sees it. She gives him so much pleasure.

Their clothes as temple keepers are very humble, but they are much easier to remove than their daily wear of only a year ago. Sacrilegious but sincere, he mutters his gratitude at the simplicity of baring her body to his eyes. Her slopes are gorgeous, winding like the gentlest river against the air. She reminds him of a war map he saw years ago, illustrated with hills and pools so lovely he mourned as war was planned against the unarmed ground.

He shakes away that memory to construct another of the way she looks right now, sensual and receptive, womanly in the way she came to be when they started their lives here. Back in control of herself, of both of them, she parts her lips and breathes his new name. He undoes the scrap of old kimono that serves for his sash, and peels away his own sweaty robe. When he comes back down to her, she has freed her arms from her sleeves and their hands find each other, fingers dancing warm and worn as they wrap together.

Now it is still raining, but the roar of it has quieted to a loving hiss. The light is gray and blue, so she looks like nighttime. She pulls him to her with the power of dusk closing flowers, and their kiss is moon-soft, full of promise instead of frenzy. Her lip is a marvel between his and he loves pressing it with his own lips and teeth and sucking gently to make it swell. He wants to touch it with his thumb while he’s inside her and then kiss her again, maybe kiss her while he touches her with his thumb.

The chill at his back cannot last when there is so much heat between them, no matter what she says of drowning instead of burning. A man can drown in the bubbles of a hot spring as well as he can in winter’s water. He sucks in a breath and breathes it out into her mouth, and when she does the same with more force he shudders. His hands slide to her hips, where her curves fit into his palms as though he were a farmer and she were a ripe stalk of rice. She is at least as crucial and nourishing.

He is so hard he doesn’t need to take himself in hand. The head of his cock slides (with a sureness he would never claim aloud) between her folds, against the spot that makes her thighs flex. The movement is easy, a slip if not for his control. They are always so eager for one another.

“How?” he asks, and kisses the chin she is offering as her head is thrown back. “Here? This? Just outside the reach of the rain?” A demon is in him, to tease her like this, but the demon wants her pleasure as surely as he does because this is what she wants, for everything to be drawn out until their tension snaps. “Do you want the air on all your skin?” he continues. “I will give you anything. Just tell me.”

She hums the thoughtful sound that means she’s thought of some way to drive him insane. Thunder cracks with an ominous sharpness in the distance, and when she tilts her head and looks at him there is lightning and mischief in her eyes. He squeezes her but still she wriggles out from beneath him... and she goes to one of the beams that holds up the roof, safe from the rain thanks to the overhang. She moves her feet back and bends at her waist and he can do nothing but feel blessed and aroused, so aroused he is stupid. The warmth she put in him turns to tingles, like she has displaced the lightning from her gaze and made his skin the sky and his bones the bare, vulnerable earth. Within himself he feels a frighteningly intense buzzing.

“This first,” she declares. “Just watch for now, darling. Stay where you are.” Her thighs and calves are so defined from the ways she has to toil in this new life that he feels a shadow of guilt for enjoying the sight of her so much. It vanishes when he sees her fingertips between her legs, right at his eye level. She is pulling his mind apart, but her method for that is giving him this gift, and in this life he takes what he is given.

“Yes,” he rasps, and swallows before the dryness in his though makes him cough. “Yes, of course.”

The movement of her arm slides her loosened braid along a shoulder like a brushstroke. Her touches are sure-- she told him months ago that she learned to do this when he made her sleep alone for nights on end. He curses his foolishness even as he is grateful for it. She is always turning the most miserable ingredients into feasts, his wife.

Her sure fingers make circles and dip into her folds to smear her arousal. She likes it a little messy sometimes, another thing she has revealed in the safety of their seclusion. He loves what she loves, and he wants to put his mouth on her, put his cock in her, so badly that he fears his voice will scar his throat in a mad escape if he has to stay apart from her much longer. But he will die of idiocy alone if he interrupts. So he watches, the cool air of isolation doing nothing to keep his belly from tightening when she coos. Her hips begin to drop forward to meet her hand and he bites the flesh of his palm to stave off insanity as long as he may. She is a cat, he realizes, playing with all his many frayed ends. When she glances back, whatever she sees on his face-- he must be flushed, he feels terribly hot-- makes her laugh, dark and sweet. She keeps going and keeps her eyes on him. There is that gentle command so uniquely her in the way she looks at him. It makes him feel like he is blooming frantically, too fast, a blossom pummeled by rain and completely out of control... and she keeps looking, keeps smiling, draws the moment into moments until he thinks he might sob.

And then she curls her fingers against herself to beckon him and says “Come here.” The way her voice puts the words somewhere between request and demand is flattering, but he has no time to be flattered. Rain-cooled air yields against his arms and legs as he rushes to her. Immediately, he is there behind her legs, positioning himself, and the heat of her backside would burn him were he not already so ruined. Against her at last, he can appreciate the way the weak light on her sweat-slicked back is more beautiful than the finest inkwash, the ways she smells competent and domestic and alluring, like the precious sweet scent of soil that hides between mountain pebbles. She is all these things, and she is so calm as his mind whirls in its delirium of adoration and arousal.

He doesn’t mean to tremble, but his hold on himself has been too tight, and the spaces where his teeth dug into his hand throb. Like the mongrel pet to a noble lady, he has little other purpose but to love her. He sees that she can sense it. There is a grace to her certainty when he grits his teeth, even though she is wound so tightly that when the head of his cock finally presses inside her, he must push. Slick, soft, smooth, she feels, somehow, despite the pressure. As he pushes fully inside, their groans are wanton to the point of inhumanity, more like the sound of creatures in the night than of a man and his wife. His wife, his wife. He pulls back and groans again at the way her body fights to keep him. He swipes the braid off her back and kisses her shoulder, pushing back in slowly as her soft, strong body welcomes him.

“More,” she cries, her first sound of vulnerability, and he is eager to take care of her. He knows to move steady and powerfully but keep it slow at first. She comes better around him, but needs to be allowed to focus, so he is quiet as he focuses on her and the way the muscles of his back stretch and roll to please her. He is still a fit man, and he hopes his body thrills her as hers thrills him.

She makes a needy noise between her teeth and moves faster, shaking just a little. She hisses “keep going,” and of course he does. The tension he felt a moment ago is so unimportant now he is not sure if it was real. In the time when things shift between them he no longer needs permission, and he feels the magic calm settling over him-- it is his turn. All he needs to do is what she needs from him, it’s so simple. And he would do anything she asked, for the chance to be so near her when she finds bliss. It is already rising up his legs, like a snake squeezing and sliding, like ripples... and her sighs are like waves. Maybe she is too wet to be flames because she is water itself. The way into her is blissful enough, a slick heavy pressure around him where she is swollen from all their kisses and touching. The challenge of it makes him grin with a ferality he usually keeps well out of sight, and he presses on, pulls back, kisses her shoulder again and calls her his beloved. His voice doesn’t shake.

Hers does. “Again,” she pleads, grasping back for his hand. “I want it again.” She guides his fingers in circles until he knows where she is and what she needs, and then she lets him give it to her. Trust is such a sacred thing.

When he touches her she laughs, and he laughs too, and fucks her with a great deal of joy. They find their pattern: her hips push back to meet his thrusts, so when he presses in, deeply, they fit as cleanly as a carpenter’s masterwork. The storm has truly cooled the air but all it does is chill the fresh sweat on their skin as they move. It invigorates him, makes his spirit shout with a freedom he cannot contemplate at the time. His wife is using the beam that holds up their roof to push back against him, allowing the tender space between her breasts to be abraded by the wood. There is room for nothing but happiness here, nothing to do but honor her sacrifice and make her feel more pleasure.

“Yes,” she rewards him with her voice for a particular thrust, dragging out the sound at a pitch that registers inside him while he is inside her. So he moves himself even faster to try and repeat it, then relishes the sweetness of her soft whine. It makes him feel like he is surprising her with his love for once, instead of the constant way she graces him with her own.

He leans over her a little more. “I want nothing as much as I want your happiness,” he tells her, the croon of his voice broken by the intense way their bodies are connecting. Her hand comes back over his, keeping him in place. Magnificent. “Go on,” he tells her. “Again, love. Just like you want. Just like I want. Again.”

She shudders and stops moving her hips (she clings adorably to the support beam, her arm as tense as her hand on his). He keeps going, because he knows that is what she expects. At the end, what she needs is to be filled, to be given something to clench around, and he needs to be that for her. He is so driven, from inside and out, to fuck her, that he cannot do anything else until he feels it, not think or breathe, only move into her as though he can shove bliss into her body. So he tries, until he feels the shaking of her legs as perfection alights, and then he takes one great breath before it hits them both as she squeezes tighter still. They gasp together again as her clenching and soft sounds pull his warmth to fill her. Abundantly. Deeply. The air comes out of his lungs onto her shoulders, then touches his cheeks with the softness of a cloud.

She is breathing heavily, and slowly she puts her weight against the wood and becomes still. There’s a gentle press against his hand before she drops her arm. He’s tempted to catch it and kiss her knuckles, but he does not want to move from being curled around her back. He does move his hand away and puts the arm around her belly instead, holding her that much closer. She feels exactly as warm and soft as a cat who has fallen asleep in the sun.

There is a slick, sticky feeling all around his cock, but there’s nothing unpleasant about it-- something in him actually relishes it, loves the thought of mixing, loves the thought of there being too much, it makes him want to take her to the floor and have her again-- and she does not ask him to move, so he stays until he softens. “Darling,” he whispers then. “I’m going to get us a cloth.” He has desires, but he has mastered himself.

But she mumbles “No. Hold me.”

So when he pulls out as not to slip from her, he simply sits down and pulls her with him, right down into his messy lap. There’s not a breath between the time they land and her turning so she can snuggle his chest. He strokes her hair and kisses her cheeks and nose and tells her what a marvel she is. She is all pliant affection, touching his arms, kissing his jaw, raising a love welt on his shoulder... reaching to stroke him gently, experimentally, just like she did when they were on the steps.

He has mastered himself, but not as well or fully as she has.

He pulls over their clothes and lays her out on top of them on the temple floor so he can join their bodies yet again, unhurried. They have the time for slow lovemaking in this life, and the grace. Her knees frame him as he moves and he cannot help but kiss one and then the other, reveling in her laughter (when he tickles her ribs, she tightens deliciously around him) as much as in her love. They lay together for a long time after that, cool and lazy in the quiet. When the rain is replaced by the first note of tentative birdsong, they know they should move in case someone comes to the temple. Despite the afternoon, they are a cautious couple by nature.

He attempts to clean her with their clothes, and carries her to their room to rest more comfortably. Her hair clings to the idea of a braid, but much of it is loose and floats about his arms in the sodden air. There is a satisfied tilt to her mouth when he helps her sit, and as he moves behind her the last he sees of her face is her smile curving deeper. He settles his robe over her shoulders and combs his fingers through her hair to ward off tangles. When he is finished, he replaits her hair and kisses the ribbon, then her mouth. She shakes her head, hiding her mouth and making him chase it. His rewards are sleepy giggles, enchantingly low, every time he catches her.

Several kisses later, he redresses and leaves for the kitchen to make them a simple meal. He delights in feeding her by hand as soon as he returns, because their closeness makes him feel whole and doting on her feels right. They stay near as they bathe, and then they go back to bed. It is early, but they will need to start early tomorrow to make up for the time they spent not working this afternoon. They have earned their sleep. He wonders if he will have the dream again.

Tucked into their bedding, she is in his arms, not yet dreaming herself. “Darling,” he says quietly into her hair, and murmurs love until she turns to kiss him sweetly and tells him to go to sleep.

He does have the dream. It is the most wonderful dream yet.

“Chichi-ue!” The voice is high and happy. It is coming from behind him, so he must turn away from the sight of his wife with a baby at her breast. Before he can see the little one who called him-- called him chichi-ue, his child-- the dream shifts and his wife is with an older child, tasting broth and listening patiently as the child recites ingredients. Then his wife is with two children, each holding one of her hands as they turn on the bend of the path to their home, and the smallest lets go of her to run to him. Their faces are all obscured by a sudden cloud of mountain dandelion seeds borne on the wind... all he can see are healthy little legs and feet in clean sandals, slapping against the ground as fast as they possibly can. The movement becomes a child’s hand with a brush, marvelously steady and precise. The same hand around a cluster of flower stems. Scraped knees and palms and little puffs of breath between shrieks and giggles as tears are soothed away. Two voices laughing over the plunking sound of skipped river stones ending their flights, and he recognizes the stream where they stand. The face and voice of the herbalist in the village, kindly telling them to be patient and then whispering something they might try. Four simple bowls, mismatched but meant to be together, set around a table. He can see this scene over his own shoulder, hears those same two voices dutifully expressing gratitude for their meal. The sounds change as his dream gives him the voices at different pitches through time, thankful for their rice, fish, vegetables; the bowls stay on the table, the food in them changing in dizzying whirls of color until he wakes.

“Good morning,” says his wife, in the voice she can only use for the first words of the day. Quiet and deep as a hidden pool. “I love you.”

He reaches to stroke her cheek, and tells her about the dream at last. She tells him her dreams, too.

Exhausted but awake, awed and unsure, he holds his son for the first time in the crook of his better arm. All of him shakes, because he is weeping at the perfect newness of this child. The baby, so unhappy with the village woman who came to help with the birth, settles into his father like poetry, and closes sweet dark eyes, and yawns flawlessly. They way the baby’s tongue trembles reminds him of a stretching cat. Master Tenkai of the mountain cannot look away. There is so much to see, and there is something about gazing at this tiny face, shifting magically from pinched to peaceful, that shows him the virtue of disregarding time completely. He should know it for what it is: another effort by man to control what he cannot. Everything that marks time in a human way can be broken. The sun rises no matter what people do in the night.

One of the temple cats senses a fellow creature and leans up to sniff at the baby. The baby’s father is happy to share the sight. The cat noses at the baby’s plumpness and then slinks off, but Tenkai stays where he sits, holding his son beside the bedding where the baby’s mother is gazing at them both with a tired, happy expression on her beautiful face. Her hair has all come loose from its ribbon. The woman from the village said it was an easy birth, but it certainly took its time. At the end, they have their perfect son, and she is alright. Everything is alright. The greatest challenge facing them at the moment is that he will have to learn to braid one-handed. He chuckles to himself and the baby blinks, then settles.

He will never hold a sword again. Whatever time may be, it feels like he made his peace with a more important truth a very long time ago, perhaps in another life entirely, and had only to relearn it. To hold his woman, and child, and the other he believes will join then... that is more than enough for the warrior who was once Mitsuhide, who became Master Tenkai of the mountain. All else may come and go. He will treat everything with respect, and allow all that is temporary to leave his hand like water. His family, permanent and indescribably precious, is the only thing that he will never, ever give up.

#slbp mitsuhide #slbp fanfic #slbp fanfiction #samurai love ballad party #fieryanmitsu

[sokka-with-his-hair-down]

Strange Sightings in Strange Settings

(draft)

(Details on this at the bottom)

**********

“Don’t look now, but… I think that’s the Fire Lord sitting behind us.”

Midori giggled and rolled her eyes. “Chiyo, I’m not falling for one of your dumb tricks again.”

“No!” Chiyo leaned forward earnestly, eyes flickering between Midori and the two young men at the table behind her. “I’m serious right now. That’s him.”

“Chiyo—”

“I’m serious!”

Midori huffed. “Well, if you’re so sure—” she began to turn to look, but was stopped when Chiyo abruptly gripped her shoulders.

“I said don’t look now!”

“Why do you get to see and I don’t then, hmm?” Midori asked dubiously, skepticism resurfacing.

“I swear I’m not lying. Just… wait a minute.”

“I know this is a trick, Chiyo. I’m gonna look and prove you wrong this one time.”

“Don’t—!”

Midori, devious smile on her face, spun in her chair and glanced over and holy spirits is—

She spun back around abruptly. “Sweet Agni above.”

“I told you!”

“Ever hear of the boy who cried snake-wolf? How was I supposed to know you were being serious!”

“Maybe if you just trusted me—”

“Excuse me, ladies?”

Midori and Chiyo looked up to see their waitress, lips pressed into a small, awkward smile.

“Hello.”

“Yes?”

“Would you like me to take your plates?”

“Oh.” Midori looked down at her plate, now empty, and Chiyo’s, scraped clean. “Yes, please.”

“Thank you,” Chiyo chided as the waitress—Shu, Chiyo thinks she introduced herself as earlier—took the plates and left them to themselves once again.

As soon as she was out of hearing range, Chiyo spoke again. “Who’s that sitting with him?”

“I don’t know,” Midori confessed, “I didn’t really look at him.”

“He must be important, if he’s eating with the Fire Lord.”

“I can check.”

“Do not check!

“I’m gonna check.”

Chiyo groaned in embarrassment as Midori risked another glance behind her, more subtle this time, then scrambled to face her friend. “It’s Sokka of the Water Tribe!”

Chiyo tilted her head and squinted, as if trying to remember where she’d heard that name before. “Who is he again?”

“You know!” Midori whisper-yelled. “Ambassador! Friend of the Avatar! He took down dozens of airships when the war ended!”

Chiyo thought for a moment before her eyes copied Midori’s—widened in surprise. “Isn’t his sister married to Avatar Aang?”

“Yes!”

Chiyo gaped and looked over again, briefly, to see the picture in all its glory now. Ambassador Sokka sat across from Fire Lord Zuko, hand atop his (?) and laughing at something one of them said.

She looked away.

“Midori. They’re holding hands.”

“They are?”

“Yes! Th—no, don’t—!”

Too late. Midori was looking for the third time this evening. Chiyo watched with great anxiety, and her heart rate only increased when she saw Ambassador Sokka notice Midori’s staring with a surprised expression.

Midori jerked her head back into position. “Oh no. He saw me. The ambassador saw me.”

“Nice going! Honestly, I can’t believe you sometimes!”

Midori didn’t turn to look again, but Chiyo still risked the occasional peek over Midori’s shoulder to see Ambassador Sokka and Fire Lord Zuko whisper in each other’s ears and giggle.

Chiyo cleared her throat. “We should be going.”

“We have to pay.”

“Is my embarrassment not payment enough?” Chiyo whined.

Still flushed red in embarrassment, Midori shrunk in her seat and stayed silent until the waitress approached them again.

“Hello,” Shu greeted.

Chiyo smiled a little and nodded, but was quickly off-put when Shu set two bowls of anmitsu onto the table.

“Sorry, I don’t… think we ordered dessert.”

“I know,” Shu said, smiling. She leaned down and lowered her voice to a whisper. “But his majesty and the ambassador thought you looked like you could use some.”

Chiyo and Midori looked at each other, cheeks pink in surprise, then turned to see the Fire Lord and ambassador standing up, still talking and smiling to one another, then shooting a glance and a couple of knowing smiles their way before taking their leave.

The random men who’d been casually perched against the walls stood to their full height and followed the ambassador and Fire Lord out. Guards. Of course.

Shu giggled. “Enjoy, ladies.”

She left. The two girls stared at one another.

“The Fire Lord just bought us dessert.”

**********

Hey there! So this is a snippet of a little something I’m writing. It can be read as a stand-alone, but I think I’m gonna make it into a full on fic. I’ll let you guys know if it ever gets uploaded to Ao3 (I am still working on that Zukka airport AU though, so idk which one will come out first).

Also, please forgive any typos! I didn’t really have the energy to edit this more than a simple revision. It’s been a long day.

Let me know your thoughts, feedback is a big inspiration for me. Love you all! <3

#atla #avatar the last airbender #zuko #sokka #zukka #zukka fic #zukka fanfic #l’oreal sokka writes #atla fanfic #atla fic #avatar #avatar fic #avatar fanfic

[teacup-set]

Dear Author,

💡and 📒 please!

Hi friend!

💡 what inspires your fic ideas?

Aaah, I wish I had a linear answer for this. But mostly, I am just a serial, aimless daydreamer, and every now and then I'll daydream about something that I feel like adapting into a story. I also get a lot of inspiration from other works! This includes stories, fanfiction, poems etc., and also art pieces. Most of the time my brain will just latch on to a line or visual and then cook up a story around it, which is why nothing I write ever has a plot.

📒 any fics planned?

Oh boy. There is a lot of stuff planned, but I am not sure if I have the discipline to finish it all. But maybe putting it out into the universe will help me stick to them? My main priorities right now are working on two prompts, one from @disquieted who requested a your-name-esque modern AU (which I have made decent progress with so hopefully I can share it soon!) and one from you (❤️) to write something with anmitsu (which I have to sit and get creative with because I do not want to follow up your cute SSS family cooking interaction).

Among personal projects, I am sorta working on a Sakura!Hokage multi chaptered fic that I have written around 3 chapters for, but my track record with long fics is pathetic so I only plan to share it if/when it is finished.

Thank you for asking and humouring my talk-show fantasies!

#nice mutuals #answering asks

[hypmic-writings]

This might sound weird but what kind of snacks do you think the boys would be? You can pick any division or if you can all of them.

I put way too much time into research for this. I’m choosing all Japanese snacks, so I’ll put small descriptions and pics for each! Let me know if you vehemently agree or disagree. I don’t have too much knowledge about every Japanese snack, so go easy on me please! Hope this was kind of what you wanted~

--

Ichiro: Kakigori - shaved ice dessert; I feel like Ichiro has a sweet tooth and would like to go to cafes with his brothers in the summer to eat this

Jiro: Red Bean Daifuku - Sweet rice cakes with red bean filling; I feel like Jiro would like the texture and the fact that it’s sweet but not overbearing. Also, that you can make it at home!

Saburo: Pocky - Chocolate covered biscuits; Saburo is still a kid and he would never admit to his brothers but he always sneaks Pocky. He would probably nibble on it when he’s tense or nervous 

Samatoki: Nikuman - steamed pork buns; It’s canon that Samatoki likes pork buns (because they remind him of happy times with his friends) so I can definitely see him getting some whenever he wants a snack

Juto: Senbai - Rice Crackers; they’re simple, portable, and I can 100% imagine Juto having a bag of these at his desk and refusing to share with anyone

Riou: Taiyaki - fish-shaped cake; Riou would love how cute these little cakes are, and the fact that they come in multiple fillings means you can have different tastes with the same treat!

Ramuda: Konpeito (and lollipops, of course) - Sugar candy; Ramuda would like how colorful these are, and how easy/clean they area to eat. We already know he likes lollipops, so I can imagine him enjoying sucking on konpeito pieces as well.

Gentaro: Melon Pan - Sweet Bread; I can imagine Gentaro enjoying this during his writing breaks. Especially if he’s writing something sad, I can see him liking the crunchy exterior and the warm, soft interior to cheer himself up a bit.

Dice: Dango - Mochi Dumplings; Street food that would be right up Dice’s alley since they’re pretty cheap, filling, and they’re easily portable!

Jakurai: Castella - Sponge Cake; I can imagine Jakurai liking to eat this cake with his morning coffee, and since he has a bit of a sweet tooth, snacking on it during the day as well since it’s light and gives him the sweet taste without being too unhealthy

Hifumi: Anmitsu - Fruit in Jelly; It’s colorful, fruity, and unique...just like Hifumi! I can imagine him liking all of the different ingredients, eating each of them separately despite being yelled at to mix it all together by Doppo

Doppo: Imagawayaki - Stuffed Pancake; I think Doppo would like the fact that this snack has a softer texture, and also really like the sweet filling. I’m imagining him buying one on the way to work and looking forward to eating it all day.

Kuko: Hi-Chew/Kasugai - Gummy Candy; Is it canon that he chews gum? He seems like the type to always be chewing on something since he’s always in ‘go mode’. That’s why I think hi-chews and gummy candies would be great for him!

Jyushi: Popin Cookin - DIY Candy Kits; I’m sorry but you can’t tell me that Jyushi doesn’t love making tiny little candies from a kit and then gets sad once there’s no more left before begging Hitoya to please go get him more.

Hitoya: Doryaki - Red Bean Pancake; Wanna get meta? Hitoya would like these because they’re a bit sweet and easy to eat whenever he’s in between court cases. The pancake patties are also made from castella...so he would think it’s like he’s one-upping Jakurai even in the snack department

Sasara: Karinto - Fried Dough with Brown Sugar; I feel like Sasara would also like sweet things, and that karinto would be his go-to midnight snack. He wouldn’t eat it too often since it’s deep-fried but he likes it as a way to treat himself.

Rosho: Arare - Rice Crackers with Soy Sauce (and seaweed); Similar to Juto, these are easy to eat throughout the day so I can imagine Rosho keeping some at his desk and eating it in between classes. I can see him liking the savory flavor rather than anything too sweet

Rei: Wasabi Peas - ...wasabi peas...; It’s spicy, it’s easy to eat, and he likes the way it burns on his tongue to make him feel literally anything. 

#hypmic #hypnosis mic #snacks #imagines #hypmic imagines #ichiro #jiro #saburo #samatoki #juto #riou #ramuda #gentaro #dice #jakurai #hifumi #doppo #kuko #jyushi #hitoya #sasara #rosho #rei

[cherry-writings]

Always love a new writing blog, your stuffs been good so far :) how about headcanons for taichi and juza being asked out by a girl they barely know who seems cold and distant?

author note: you're so sweet agsjdk 😭😭 this was a pretty cute request. i hope you enjoy reading the headcanons! and if you don't mind, i'd love for you to come by and request more. or we can just talk! i don't mind either :>

-ˏˋ nanao taichi and hyodo juza being confessed to by a seemingly cold & distant s/o headcanons ˊˎ-

♡―NANAO TAICHI.

you were familiar with him from school.

it wasn't as if the two of you were close or anything, but that hadn't stopped you from developing a crush on the hyperactive boy

it all started on the day he had spoken to you for the first time

a shoulder crashed into yours, the contact startling you. fortunately, neither of you were hurt. however nonetheless, you shot a sharp glare the person's way

and that's when you saw him

"ah, i'm sorry―"

bright blue eyes met yours, leaving you breathless. unbeknownst to you, your expression softened

"―you aren't hurt, are you?"

the exchange was brief―and short―and yet it still sent your heart soaring

for once, someone had talked to you like you were a normal person

and he didn't look frightened at all whilst speaking to you. huh, that was new

the image of his apologetic smile remained on your mind even at the latest hours of the night

one day, after giving yourself one of the biggest pep talks ever―you decided to ask him out.

and though he was practically the ever-so-shining sun and you were the mysterious moon―you knew it was worth a try

so once school ended for the day, you walked straight up to his shoe locker―right where he was―and cleared your throat

you stood tall and confident, yet you were scared on the inside

but you knew that you had to get the truth off your chest

it didn't take him long to turn towards you, a look of curiosity on his face

"what is it, [name]-san?"

he knows my name

you felt butterflies all over again at the fact

discreetly gripping at the end of your skirt, you opened your mouth and the words flew out

"please go out with me"

silence

"h-huh?"

taichi couldn't believe it

[name] [last name] was really asking him out?

the girl who stayed to herself?

the girl who never bothered with anyone else?

she was going for someone like him?

he was in disbelief

before he could even answer, you turned away rather quickly, the slightest hint of a blush on your face

oh but he wasn't going to let you go. not that easily.

"wait! [name]-chan.. i'm really sorry for reacting that way"

he reached out and gently wrapped his hand around your wrist, a smile on his that you couldn't see

"i like you too..! how about we go on a date?"

♡―HYODO JUZA.

you saw him at usagi's bakery―a cute little pastry shop that had opened up a few weeks ago

aching to try the anmitsu from there, you set a nice date to go and eagerly awaited the day

when the time came, you were beyond ecstatic. (though it didn't show on your face)

soon as you walked inside, the aroma of cakes and fruits hit your nose. you practically salivated alone at the smell

patiently standing in line, you awaited your turn to order

"may i take your order?"

the lady at the cashier asked kindly

"yes, how much is your anmitsu?"

"420 yen"

nodding your head, you reached for your wallet in your jacket pocket. that was definitely affordable

uh oh―

the look on your face seemed to sullen even more

you left your wallet at home

after all that preparing―you just had to pick to leave your wallet?

standing there feeling somewhat embarrassed, you looked back towards the female

"excuse me―"

suddenly, an arm reached over you―dropping some money on the counter, startling both, you and the woman

"i'll pay for her. make that two bowls of anmitsu."

you hadn't know right at that moment―but that was hyodo juza―a well-known delinquent around ouka high and an actor for MANKAI company

and ever since then, your eyes have been on him

he looked intimidating on the outside―scary, even―but you knew it was more to him than that

especially after seeing him act

perhaps that's why you thought that the two of you were kind of similar

people saw you as cold and emotionless. they were scared to even be next to you―it made you sad to think that juza also went through the same thing

so you made a promise that you'd reveal your true feelings the next time you saw him again at usagi's bakery

a week later, you saw him sitting at a table by the window

swallowing thickly, you went up to the cashier, putting your plan into action

not even ten minutes later, you were walking up to juza with a small cake in your hands

sitting at his table―making sure to be directly across from him―you coolly pushed the cake over his way

glaring at you in an almost questionable manner, he directed his gaze towards the cake

"do you want to go out some time?" was written in frosting

he looked back at you and you swore that you saw a bit of red on his cheeks

"...sure." he mumbled, averting his gaze to glance at the scenery outside

#a3! #a3! headcanons #act! addict! actors! #taichi nanao #nanao taichi #a3! taichi #juza hyodo #hyodo juza #a3! juza #a3! x reader #autumn troupe

[sailorfailures]

September 10th is Ami Mizuno/Sailor Mercury’s birthday!

So how can you celebrate?

☿ Rewatch or reread your favourite Mercury-centric chapter, episode, or musical! As the second Sailor Soldier introduced after Sailor Moon, she’s a main character throughout every season; try episode 008, her introduction episode; episodes 027 and 041, where Ami meets and later reunites with an apparent genius boy to whom she is both his rival and role-model; episode 062, where Ami gets the opportunity to fulfil her dream of studying abroad, but at the cost of leaving the Sailor Team; episode 071, where Ami faces off against Berthier in a chess match; episode 080, where a Droid manipulates Ami into hallucinating her friends have turned against her; episode 097, where Ami begins to feel like she’s a nuisance to the other Sailors, and is targeted for her Pure Heart; episode 151, where she is so moved by a music piece she finds online that she writes lyrics for it and endeavours to deliver them to its composer personally; and episode 191, where the Sailor Soldiers find themselves embroiled in a very different fight - a video game tournament, and it’s up to Ami to win first place. The plot of episode 062 was expanded on slightly in the musical Shin / Henshin - Super Senshi e no Michi - Last Dracul Jokyoku, making Ami a more prominent character in that musical. Lastly, she is, most notably, the main character in the animated short Ami-chan no Hatsukoi [“Ami’s First Love"], based on the manga special of the same name.

☿ Sailor Mercury has several official image songs across different canons you can play for her big day:

90s anime: Someday... Somebody...; Onaji Namida wo Wakeatte [“Sharing the Same Tears”]; Koibito ni wa Narenai Kedo [“Though We Can’t Be Together...”]; Ashita mo Mata Jitensha [“I’ll Cycle Again Tomorrow”] Live Action: Mi Amor; Yakusoku [“Promise”]; Crystal: a touch of rain Musicals: Drive Me The Mercury She was also given a new song in Dic’s English dub of episode 062 to replace Onaji Namida wo Wakeatte; Only A Memory Away.

Here’s a playlist of all these songs and other Sailor Mercury BGM cues!

☿ Fix yourself Ami’s favourite food, sandwiches! Ami herself has stated she loves them because she can eat them with one hand while reading/typing/studying with the other. So you could probably apply this logic to any one-handed finger-food. She seems particularly fond of cucumber sandwiches, but any filling would suffice - just steer clear of yellow-tail tuna, her least favourite food.

For sweets, another favourite food of hers is anmitsu, a combination of agar jelly, fruit, red bean paste, and “kuromitsu” treacle. And if you’re in the mood to bake, then here’s a tip Ami learned from her mother - use the engraved base of a drinking glass to pattern some sugar cookies.

☿ Ami’s hobbies are all befitting of a cold-seeming but warm-hearted genius schoolgirl; Why not relax in a bubble bath with that book you’ve been meaning to finish? If you’re already an avid reader, why not try something in the non-fiction genre, which Ami seems to prefer?

She’s also proficient at chess. Beginner or master, why not see if there’s a chess club in your area you could visit for the day, play a round online, or visit a park frequented by those looking for a match?

Ami is, of course, known for her talent at studying, but it’s not just to assure she gets into a good high school (and later, university). She is passionate about studying for self-improvement, including proficiency in multiple languages; teach yourself something new today in her honour. Go on a random-page wiki walk or watch a documentary or two. If you have a new hobby, or a hobby you’ve been neglecting for a while, now’s the time to do that boring practice or study you’ve been putting off that you know will help you improve in the long-run.

For sports, Ami is a talented swimmer. She prefers the pool to the beach, but you could visit either today for a dip in her name.

Ami’s most surprising hobby is video games, for which she has a competitive edge. Pick up a new title or host a casual competition online or with friends (if you throw a blue shell you’re dead to me). Why not play one of the many, many Sailor Moon titles for the Nintendo or other systems?

☿ Dress like Ami for the day! Ami’s style fits firmly in the “preppy” category, occasionally veering into vintage and couture, probably thanks to her rich doctor mother who drops diamond rings like it’s nothing. Common articles of clothing include cardigans, oversized coats with shorter skirts/shorts, and dresses. She typically dresses modestly, but does occasionally show off her legs. She doesn’t often wear trousers, but sometimes likes to dress down, showing a casual, sporty side. As expected, she wears a lot of blue, but also a lot of red, soft pinks, yellows, and pastel minty greens. Common accessories include jewelled brooches, belts, and headbands.

As Sailor Mercury, she wears simple blue studs that later turn into triple-studs, which she can press to summon her iconic “VR” goggles (though they are better described as augmented-reality). Anyone still have Google Glass?

☿ Troll somebody.

☿ Fav and read some Sailor Mercury fanart and fanfic on sites like Pixiv, Twitter, and AO3 - or contribute your own new content! Don’t forget to tag!

Feel free to reply and reblog with your own ideas of how you’re going to celebrate Ami’s day!

Happy Birthday, Ami!

#long post #Sailor Moon #Sailor Mercury #Ami Mizuno #Amy #these just keep getting longer and longer #Ami has so many episodes bc she was such a studio darling LMAO #these aren't even all of the episodes she was featured in they're just the better ones #I can't believe I spent all day doing this #but you know what? that's very ami of me to be so thorough #as always this post will be queued up two more times over the course of the next day or so along with other Mercury content #birthday

[each-uisge-enthusiast]

sum tired writing for y’all

——————

suga would be lying if he said he wasn’t tired. he hadn’t slept properly since exam season rolled around.

the amount of extra studying he was forcing into his schedule, combined with practice and trying to control the first and second years, seemed to have simply sucked his will to work.

“seemed to” was the wrong terminology. it definitely had. he’d been staring at the same page of this stupid math book for an hour. he’d reread the first line about twenty times, and so far hadn’t managed to get half way down said page without realising, his brain had been elsewhere, and having to start from the top again.

so yeah, he was pretty tired. suga was pretty damn worn out.

honestly, if he hadn’t seen that it was daichi’s name glowing out from his phone screen, he wouldn’t have picked it up. but, it was daichi, and suga was more than aware that if he didn’t pick up, daichi would be hammering down his door within the hour.

he took a split second to compose his voice. if he sounded as dead as he felt he’d be yelled at for not sleeping enough.

“hi daichi!” the chirpy tone to his voice didn’t sound forced in his mind.

“hey suga,” daichi said, in such a way that suga knew daichi knew he was sleep deprived.

suga’s eyes moved toward the alarm clock that was glowing beside his bed, the bright green numbers burned his eyes.

23:45, which was an entire hour later than he’d thought.

“what are you even doing up at this hour daichi?” suga asked, leaning forward on the table, carefully propping his head up on one hand, the other hand holding the phone to his ear.

daichi laughed, rather stupidly, before responding. “you know, i actually rung you to ask that same question.”

suga’s tired brain wasn’t quite sure it fully understood what daichi had said. “how did you even know i’m awake? what, do you have cameras in my room?”

“what, no-”

“oh my god! you’ve been stalking me! daichi how could you?”

“no! it’s nothing like that!” even through the phone, daichi sounded flustered. “and keep it down, you’ll wake your parents up.”

suga rolled his eyes. “yeah yeah, but, seriously, how did you know i was still up?”

“went on a stress jog.”

“at quarter to midnight?”

“shut up, like you haven’t rung me at this hour whining about tv shows.”

suga huffed. “okay, fair, but may i ask if there was a purpose for this call, other than insulting me?”

“yeah, i’m still outside your house, i figured if neither of us are sleeping we might as well do something.”

“oh? what on earth might you be suggesting daichi?” suga purred, adding a teasingly lilt to his voice.

“get your brain out of the gutter, suga,” daichi snapped, suga only snickered in reply. “i was just thinking, i don’t know, we could go see if that twenty four hour ice cream shop is open.”

“repeat that sentence to yourself a couple times,” suga said, flicking his eyes back to the alarm clock, before letting out a light sigh. “i’ll be down in a minute, just let me get a jacket.”

he didn’t let daichi get a response in before he hung up, shoving his phone into his pocket as he stood up.

he paused to glance in a mirror. he looked like a lunatic. there were seriously heavy shadows under his eyes, and his hair looked like a bird nest. eh, he was pretty sure he was rocking the look.

despite that, he did pause to try shove his hair into place. he told himself it was because he didn’t want to walk around in public like that, even though he knew it was far from the truth.

he snatched up a pale yellow jacket off his bed, as well as an equally pale grey scarf, tugging them both on before slipping out of his room and down to the front door.

“daichi!” he hissed into the cold air, white clouds forming in the air when he spoke.

“wow you really haven’t been sleeping huh?”

suga pulled a face as he turned to look at his friend. “you aren’t any better,” he said, a hand snapping out to hit daichi in the side. daichi shifted to dodge, successfully.

that was a lie. daichi looked, well, suga’s drowsy mind couldn’t really pull the right words. handsome? pretty? somewhere in between?

he was hardly dressed to the nines, but as usual he looked drop dead gorgeous in that stupid all black jogging outfit. suga would have been jealous, had he not enjoyed looking at daichi as much as he did.

daichi rolled his eyes at the comment, letting out a vaguely unamused huff. “i’m sure,” he drawled, before grabbing suga’s hand and dragging him forward. “come on, then, i’m craving cream anmitsu.”

“i don’t understand how you like the chestnuts so much,” suga mutter in reply, his tone hardly matching the bouncing steps he was taking as he followed after daichi.

daichi rolled his eyes rather dramatically. “says the one who always steals them.”

suga huffed, and his free hand swung out to smack daichi’s ribs, this time daichi failed to dodge, and let out a grunt as suga made solid contact.

“i’m not apologising,” daichi snickered. “hitting me is not going to help.”

“blah whatever. i stand by the fact that chestnuts are gross.”

“yet you eat more of them than i do.”

a puff of white air was all daichi got in response.

the bantering continued most the way to the store, though at some point their positions had shifted, suga’s arms ended up wrapped around daichi’s waist, and daichi’s arm was slung over the silver haired boy’s shoulders.

the girl sitting behind the counter gave them a grin as the bell rung. suga thought it looked a little more genuine than most customer service smiles, and he wondered if they were the first customers she’d had.

“hey boys!” suga decided they were definitely her first customers. her tone was too chirpy.

“it’s a bit late for ice cream is it not? you’re the first not-drunk customers i’ve had since i took up night shifts,” she continued.

the poor kid can’t have spoken to anyone for awhile, because the minute daichi responded, and gave their orders, she was off. didn’t shut up. not that suga minded all that much, she was friendly, mainly groaning about trying to keep up with sleep while she worked night shifts and spent six hours at school. then about how she didn’t have much choice because she had to get money somehow.

suga, who was very much used to his teammates ramblings, ended up droning her out while he sat at a tiny table, daichi seemed torn between doing the same or entertaining her, suga was pretty sure she was just using them as an excuse to talk. he honestly doubted she’d care much if they didn’t listen.

quite honestly, suga was rather distracted watching daichi’s expressions. the way his lips twisted into a smile every time he tried to not laugh at the employee’s struggles, the roll of his eyes as he got caught up in her stories. she seemed to notice suga’s eyes, a quiet quirk of her eyebrow snitched on her for watching him just a little too closely.

“anyway, i just haven’t spoken to anyone outside of classes in, like, two weeks.”

suga snickered as he heard daichi’s terrible attempt at stifling a sigh of relief.

“so thanks for not telling me to shut up! enjoy your ice cream boys! and uh, might i recommend getting home soon? it‘s a friday,” she paused to look at a clock, “a saturday morning. there’s gonna be drunk idiots running around and believe me, they aren’t fun to deal with, particularly when, well,” she flicked a hand towards the pair. something in the movement made suga wonder if she played volleyball.

daichi turned to say something to her, but she’d already disappeared out back. suga took advantage of his distraction and snatched a chestnut out of his bowl.

“hey!”

“you know, she has a point about drunk idiots,” suga mused, glancing out to the dark streets.

“think we’ll run into coach ukai and takeda?”

“hah! they’ll both be in ukai’s house getting wild by now!”

daichi made a face of disgust and threw a scarf at suga’s face. suga simply laughed.

by the time they’d finished their ice cream, and opted to just try and sprint full pace back to daichi’s (which was closest, suga sent a text through to his parents, as he had already decided he was not going to try reach home in the dark), the subject had somehow switched to what school ice cream girl had gone to.

“she had a shiratorizawa look.”

“isn’t it a boarding school? she wouldn’t be able to work a night shift if that was the case. she looks like an oikawa fangirl, seijoh.”

“she was pretty cheery, johzenji?”

“nah she looks like she’d hate the colour yellow.”

“how?” daichi tilted his head, squinting his eyes.

“the shadows under her eyes were too purple for her to be the kind of person who would willingly be near that uniform,” suga shrugged. “seijoh.”

daichi, seemingly unable to argue that, hugged and nodded. “okay you win. for now, we can probably just ask her next time.”

“next time?” suga smirked at daichi. “my my, is Mr. Responsible Team Captain really suggesting he’s going to take me on a second irresponsible midnight date?”

as he spoke, he tilted his head down, staring up at daichi with a jokingly flirtatious face, hoping it would smother the pure joy his heart felt, or at least stop it from shining through on his face.

daichi made a strangled noise, his hands moving to hide his face. suga could see the red colour burning the tips of his ears, even with the miserable lack of lighting.

“don’t say it like that,” he mumbled, sounding less like an intimidating captain and more like an embarrassingly lovestruck teen, which had suga giggling.

“you really are easily flustered daichi,” suga murmured, leaning gently into the other’s shoulder. “it’s cute, really.”

the rest of the night lapsed into a peaceful sort of quiet, the sort that one could only ever really feel with someone they were entirely open and comfortable with. the rare kind that regularly reassured suga that he and daichi would be beside each other forever.

#daisuga #suga x daichi #daichi x suga #uwu #it case it isn’t obvious i wrote it all while half asleep #at like #3am #haikyuu!! #haikyuu #yepppp #pls give me attention #this is the first thing i’ve finished for ages n i need love

[redcameleon]

SSM 2020 Day 24

Prompt: Once in a Blue Moon

Summary: It’s Sakura’s birthday and Sasuke is going out of his way to do something special with her, even when he doesn’t necessarily like it. He’d rarely do it for anyone else, but anything for Sakura.

Rating: K.

A/N: sorry if this is bad lol i wanted to do something fun after writing gloomier themes these past few days.

“Please, Sasuke-kun” Sakura clasps her hand together, batting her eyelashes at him. Sasuke grunts in response.

“It’ll just be this time.” Sasuke has already lost the battle the moment she looks at him with those pleading wide jade eyes, which she completely knows will melt him away.

“Fine.” Sakura leaps and hooks her arms around his.

“Thank you, Sasuke-kun! I’m sure you’re gonna love it!” Today is Sakura’s birthday, and Sasuke told her he’d do anything she wants, just for today. Little did he know, it would include going to a new dessert place in Tokyo to try out their best-selling Anmitsu, and Kami knows how much Sakura loves Anmitsu and how much Sasuke dislikes sweets.

Sakura has been dying to go to this new joint since their soft opening. With work on her way, she had to postpone it until today. Today is the perfect day to try out the new treat. Sasuke and her have the day off, and since it’s her birthday today, she can get another free bowl of dessert. Sasuke figures, since it is her special day, he’ll put aside his preferences and do what pleases her. Her smile means the world to him. He will do anything to make her happy.

They walk together, hands clasped together as Sakura tells him about the new database they’re trying to design for the hospital and Sasuke nodding along amidst her explanation.

They arrive moments later and are seated by the waitress. Sakura tells their orders right away, as if she has memorized their entire menu in her mind. Sasuke can’t help but feel amused.

“What?” Sakura wonders. She catches him staring at her.

“Hn nothing.”

Not long afterwards, their food arrives. Two bowls of Anmitsu sitting right in front of them, glistening with beauty and deliciousness that Sakura had only seen in pictures.

She quickly digs in and her face express contentment and satisfaction that Sasuke had only seen her make in the bedroom.

“Hm! It’s just as good as I had imagined! Try a bite, Sasuke-kun!” Hesitantly, Sasuke eyes the bowl in front of him and looks at Sakura. Sakura gives him a nod and he skittishly scoops some with his spoon and puts it in his mouth.

He has to admit, it isn’t as bad as he thought it would be. A part of him wonders what made him hate it in the first place. Then he remembers why. Too sweet.

Sakura watches his expression turn from a disgusted look, to an okay one, before settling again to a what the fuck look. Sakura can’t help but burst out in laughter.

“Oh my gosh Sasuke-kun you should see the look on your face! I guess you still don’t like sweets after all.” Sasuke sets the spoon on the table in a defeated look.

“It’s okay you don’t have to finish it.” Sakura knows how much he hates sweets, and almost feels guilty for making him eat a whole bowl of it.

Despite all of that, she can’t believe what he does next. He continues to devour the dish, bite after bite. It’s a waste to leave food behind. He can hear his mother’s words in his mind.

Oh the things we do for love.

#ssff #ssfanfiction #sasusaku fanfiction #sasusaku #sasuke #sakura #otp #redcameleon!writes #ssm20 #ssm20d24

[fieryanmitsu]

There's no "I" in "curry" | A3! | “Once More, With Feeling!” Fanzine

“Once More, With Feeling!” is an A3! fanzine that focuses on events that occur in Act 1 of the main story of the game and which revolves around the theme of “growth”.

The zine has over 40 contributors and is packed to the brim with amazing art and stories, so if you want to check it out, the free version of the zine can still be downloaded here!

Like my post for "The Future", this is also a late upload for something I wrote for the "Once More, With Feeling!" Fanzine.

This wasn't an actual official written piece, but was one out of four short "monologues" written by the writing mods that served as section/page dividers within the zine. Each monologue was written from the POV of one of the A3ders and dealt with the theme of "growth of their troupe".

I was assigned to write Tenma's monologue and it was definitely a challenge to write something so short, but with such a specific topic. I spent enough time and effort on it that I wanted to post it, so here we are!

THERE'S NO "I" IN "CURRY"

THEME: Growth of their troupe

CHARACTERS: Tenma Sumeragi, Yuki Rurikawa, Muku Sakisaka, Misumi Ikaruga, Kazunari Miyoshi

My fanfic masterpost: Here

AO3: Link in my Blog Menu

As a team building activity, Summer Troupe decided to make curry together—like at our first training camp. But, compared to back then, everyone is much different now... Even me.

For someone who used to just go along with everyone, Kazunari was surprisingly forceful. He kept saying we absolutely had to make summer vegetable curry, and designed pamphlets with the recipe and everything.

And Muku used to be afraid of saying anything, but he practically lectured Yuki when he was making the roux wrong and totally took charge to fix it.

Speaking of Yuki—I couldn’t believe it, but he asked me to help him to get some spices down from the top shelf when he couldn’t reach. He even thanked me!

Then, when Misumi was making rice, he wasn't distracted once. It was embarrassing, but he said it was ‘cause he was putting his triangle feelings into each grain for his best friends… Of course, it all ended up as onigiri...

As for me… I, uh… messed up and cut all the potatoes unevenly and made them too small… But, I wasn’t afraid to admit to them that I made a mistake. Kazunari even chopped up his nicely-cut veggies into smaller pieces to match mine.

The curry turned out kinda weird-looking, but… it tasted really good. Misumi even made sure there weren't any carrots on my plate. N-Not that it made me happy or anything! But… I guess it’d be nice to do this again.

Hope you enjoyed this little piece! Feel free to drop a comment if you have any thoughts and reblogs are always appreciated! Thanks for reading!

-Anmitsu

#a3! #a3! act! addict! actors! #a3! game #act! addict! actors! #tenma sumeragi #sumeragi tenma #a3! tenma #yuki rurikawa #muku sakisaka #misumi ikaruga #kazunari miyoshi #natsugumi #a3! omwf fanzine #a3! fanzine #anmitsu writes

[chestnut-b]

“Don’t underestimate a life-long teacher, idiot.” Iruka grimaced at the unconscious attacker on the ground as he bent over to pick up his coat. 

A would-be child-snatcher, chasing after a bounty for what was probably one of the last holders of a Sharingan in the shinobi world. They’d sent Sakura off at the gates earlier this morning, and Iruka supposed the hunter thought he’d found a great opportunity as they took their afternoon walk after lunch. What he’d failed to account for was that Iruka didn’t become headmaster of a ninja academy by being a pushover. 

He’d summoned and sent Pakkun off to bring a guard, so he turned his attention to the ward in in his arms. Sarada was just 4 years old, but already showed remarkable steadiness for having been involved in one of her first real battles, even if it was just as a spectator. But she was still a child after all, and Iruka didn’t fail to notice the slight tremble in her grip on him.

“Sarada-chan, were you scared?” 

The toddler shook her head, determined to show her steel. 

“Mommy’s scarier when she gets mad.” 

Iruka laughed softly. He’d restrained himself this fight, unwilling to expose her to more violence than necessary this early in her life. Despite the inevitabilities that lay ahead of her, he already found himself looking forward to the ninja Sarada would become one day. A familiar bark reached his ears. Reinforcements had already arrived. Iruka turned to Sarada. 

“What do you want for a snack today?”

“Anmitsu!” 

-------------------------------------------------------

Author’s notes:

In the Konoha hiden novels, there are multiple mentions of Iruka caring for Sarada while her parents are away. She stays together with him and he teaches her how to cook (among other things I’d guess). When Sarada starts visiting places outside the village as a genin, she brings back souvenirs for Iruka (refer to the last page of the Kakashi hiden novel). I thought it was super sweet and wanted to explore it. :D She seems to be closer to Iruka than even Boruto is (even though he could be considered his grandpa, blame the careless writing maybe?).

We don’t know what Iruka wears under his headmaster’s coat (admittedly a bit more plain than I would have liked) but I think suspenders would make for some spicy contrast, haha! Also, spot the not-so-hidden-maybe kakairu. :P

#naruto #iruka #sarada #kakairu #iruka umino #umino iruka #boruto

[the-currian]

💜✨ This is an Amazing Content Creator Award! Your creations are incredible and they light up every dashboard they land on. Pass this on to eight of your favorite creators to show your appreciation and let them know their art is loved! ✨💜

I got a few of these in my ask box and was like, “fuck it, i’m gonna make an appreciation post”.

Shoutout to all these A3! content creators!! I love this fandom a lot in general, y’all are such sweethearts, but I’m tagging these people specifically bc ((even if we haven’t interacted much)) these people inspired me to make this blog and become more active in the fandom!! Check out their blogs please and show them some love!!

@currywaifu

Nathyaaaaa. I love your works so muchhhh. I think you were one of the first, if not the first A3! blog that I followed? Your aesthetic is on point - love love love your edits. I think the thing that got me really invested in the fandom was your ppt about all the A3! songs lmao. And your writing is so good! Whenever I see your fluffy works - I just - UGH, MY HEART. Remember to take it easy, dear!!

@sugarshiin

uwu Jae, my dear, I love your edits a whole lot. 🥰  When you told me that you liked my bingo edits and that you were inspired to make your own I thought to myself, “huh, so people actually like my silly content?” tysm dear, it rly gave me confidence to post more of my stuff^^

@animaniachan

Literally one of the softest people in this fandom?? huhu seeing how interactive you are with people and their posts made we want to do the same instead of just be a lurker haha. Your edits are sososo cute wahhh 🥺 Also ngl when I first read your camel Tenma fic I was like sighing in relief bc I felt comfortable knowing that other people in the fandom enjoy taking their shitposts seriously

@fieryanmitsu

Anmitsu!! You give me such conflicted emotions when I go through your works bc sometimes they can be 💖 but then your nsfw ones got me like 👀😜 Such a sweetheart!! ty for reblogging my posts with your commentary - u got me so soft 🤗

@derireo

Rouuuu. Okay so this is gonna sound kinda weird but when I read your fics on tumblr I was like “hmm this writing style seems familiar to me” and then when I saw your A3! fics on ao3 I opened up your author page and saw that HOLY SHIT YOU ALSO WROTE THE FE3H FICS I’VE READ BEFORE I LOVE YOUR CLAUDE & SYLVAIN FICS. Love your worldbuilding, and the way you describe things rly make me want to sketch them huhu

@2dmenheaven

Truly a cutiepie with a cute aesthetic and a cute art style, but also... memes 👌 Keep at it, dear!!

@moonsumi

Such a kind person and treats members of the fandom with respect! That commentary on that post about reblogs? We stan 👑 And I just feel that you’re a friendly person in general^^

@meif-wa

I’ve only started following you recently but I went through your A3! masterlist pretty quickly and I love your writing omg it rly makes me want to sketch but I already have so many WIPs waaaahhh 😣

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I’d love to tag more blogs but I’mma stick to 8. But if anyone wants to see more A3! content creators you can always check out Nathya’s content creator masterlist!! (x)

ヾ(≧▽≦*)o have a lovely day, everyone!!

- Jen

#a3! #a3game #ramblings #in this house we stan our content creators #a3! act! addict! actors!