#but i still want to try udon from the source :””(((((

[the4humours]

want to travel :( but first i have to pursue career :(((

#saph is mumbling again #it's fine i want to be a polymath biich & i will be a polymath biich (if it was written for me) step out of my way #but i still want to try udon from the source :””((((( #thoughts&aspirationsofthelowerclass #hate how education = financial status #UDON though #from the kagawa prefecture¡!

[goddessonstage]

i noticed your requests are open, so im passing by to leave a little note ♪

what do you think about the kamado siblings seeing an older sibling figure in reader? theres not enough platonic and familial works !!

(you can put this request at the back of yor priorities, feel free to discard it if you dont like it)

family again !

∘ incl. tanjiro kamado, nezuko kamado

∘ reader: gender-neutral, no pronouns specified

∘ content: platonic, fluff, slight angst, headcanons, reader knew the kamado family prior to the start of the story, reader is a bit older than them

∘ note: i love platonic/familial works sm omg 😭 there fr needs to be more of them

btw, i'm very sorry that this work came out later than anticipated! school had me drained but spring break starts so i'll be much more active :)

∘ you knew tanjiro and nezuko back when they lived in the mountains with their family. you were a bit older than them, but you liked spending time with them nonetheless. you lived in the village with most of the others, but you often climbed up the snowy mountains to see them and the rest of their family. you would usually help kie, their mother, with her work and help with taking care of her children. and when tanjuro died, you spent most of your time with the rest of the kamados.

∘ during the time when most of the kamado family passed, you were on a trip to visit your family, who lived a couple towns away. upon visiting the kamado family again, you didn't see them. you only saw 5 graves. the house you once used to visit frequently was completely tidy, but you noticed a splatter of dried up blood. you had no clue what had happened, and you could only leave with mixed thoughts in your head.

∘ you eventually moved out from the village and moved to a different one, nearby the bustling streets of asakusa. as the years passed, you eventually moved on from whatever had happened with the kamado family, but you couldn't help thinking about them every now and then.

∘ you walked down the streets of asakusa. it was night, but the streets were still extremely busy and crowded. you noticed commotion going on, and as you walked to the source of it, interest piqued, you recognized the cause of the commotion being tanjiro himself.

∘ after the streets settled down and people resumed with their night, you slowly approached tanjiro with a concerned look on your face. he would almost immediately recognize you, but he would urge you to follow him so he can go check up on nezuko.

∘ as you two walked back to the udon stand he left nezuko at, you two managed to catch up on most of what happened. hearing that the rest of his family passed was devastating, but you didn't want to press on the matter in case it was still a sensitive topic for him. you weren't well informed on the topics of "demons", as most of your family didn't believe in them. it was a bit difficult to believe that nezuko was a demon at first, anyway. she seemed less hostile and more calm around you, leaning her head on your shoulder as tanjiro continues to fill in on what you had missed while he and nezuko were slaying demons.

∘ TANJIRO is extremely respectful towards you, trying to help you with your duties. if you are asked to do something for another person, he'd insist on completing it for you, no matter how easy or difficult the task is. he isn't the most opposed to bringing nezuko on missions, but if he's given a mission nearby your place, he might consider dropping her off at your place, knowing that she'll be safe under your care.

∘ if he has to stay at the butterfly mansion, he'll most likely invite you there so you can help take care of nezuko. as time passes by and he recovers, he'll treat you to a nice meal or anything else you might want in return for taking care of his younger sister. he'll constantly thank you for your good deeds, no matter how much you tell him that you don't need to thank him. he's very grateful for your help.

∘ although he's taken the role as sort of the "mother" of his friend group, he realizes that it's nice to depend on someone every once in a while. you helped him realize that, with your "motherly/fatherly" personality and your instinct to help and protect the people you care about. because you aren't well knowledgeable on demons, he likes to tell you about them so you are more cautious about them and stay safe.

∘ NEZUKO would most likely see you as kie or tanjuro -- probably kie since she was more present in her life. she adores your company, and likes to play with your hair when tanjiro drops her off at your place. she can't really communicate with the bamboo in her mouth, but she tries to communicate with you with hand gestures, body language, or things like that.

∘ if you have longer hair, she likes to play with your hair and style it into different hairstyles. if you keep a specific hairstyle, or if you had a specific hairstyle back when she was human, she may want you to style her hair into that hairstyle. "for old times", tanjiro says.

∘ she doesn't really eat much, nor does she complain, so she's quite easy to take care of -- just watch her for a bit and keep her company so she doesn't feel lonely.

∘ she likes to hug you or just be by your side in general, clinging onto you like a baby koala occasionally. if you're doing something as simple as making a snack, she'll want to watch your every move with sparkling eyes.

∘ she might pick up on some of your traits, as well!

#demon slayer #demon slayer x reader #kimetsu no yaiba #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #kny #kny x reader #tanjiro kamado #tanjiro #nezuko #nezuko kamado #💌 aurora's works

[ericmun]

2022.11.20 Shinhwa’s Eric’s Update from Fullerton, California + Liveworks’ CEO Lee Jang Eon + Comments

WDJ fire🔥🔥🔥 #wdj #WooDongJin #JinDongWoo #DongJinWoo #WooJinDong #JinWooDong #DongWooJin #Preview at 6pm #I get the preview faster #Thank you Jangeon hyung #Kyaaa 👍

Eric still have Hyemi’s photo as his display pic for the group chat since 2021 💞

Lee Jang Eon’s IG:

Leader Eric's support gives great strength!!!

Other texts in the chat:

LJE:  Good morning Eric^^ LJE: The song that is better than MIROTICㅎㅎㅎ Please monitor it^^ LJE:  It’ll be released on December 6th LJE:  This pre-released song will be released at 6pm today LJE:  We'll see you soon… I’ll meet Andy when I finish mastering ERIC:  Oh it’s classy and neat~ Hyung, you did a great job ㅎㅎ

COMMENTS & REPLIES:

lworkspd0127: Thank you!!! Our leader is a promotional fairy^^

OP: If Eric hyung says so, then it is (fire) 👍 ERIC: yup

OP : After WooDongJin, let’s do RicSyungDy 🔥 Oppa you’re doing well right? What is the baby’s nickname? I’m curious 😮 ERIC: It’s Moon mochi

OP: Ha I’m jealous. Please send it to me too I want to listen to it right nowㅠ Is there no way to speed up time.....? ERIC: Do something fun, time will go fast. If you hold your breath, time will go slowly~

OP: Can you guys promote as RicWooDongJin for awhile 😮 ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ ERIC: nope

OP: Oppa are you happy right now? I’m not happy right now ㅠ😢 How can I become happy? ERIC: Think about what's worse than the present, and be thankful for the little things we took for granted. I hope this small reply will be a small happiness~❤️

OP1: Is it not possible to do WooDongRicJin? When can we see RicWoo RicDong RicJin Ric? 😢 ERIC: Syung and Ric? OP1: muneric Really? I’ll wait for anything with open arms. 😍 OP2: muneric I'm so excited, my nostrils are getting bigger ㄷㄷㄷㄷㄷㄷㄷ ERIC: Narrow your nostrils again OP: Wow! It’s oppa!! I’m so jealous you get a preview.... I want to listen quickly too!! Let me ask you a question, if Jin Udon comes out following Jin Ramen and Jin Jjambbong, do you plan to try it? ERIC: nope (T/N: Jin Udon, Jin Ramen and Jin Jjambbong are the ramen flavors from OTTOGI brand)

OP: Oppa are you doing well? I'm an ordinary 36-year-old lady who has been an orange princess since Haegyeolsa. I had a hard time having twins through vitro fertilization. Of which, one child suffered a miscarriage due to cardiac arrest at 17 weeks. I gave birth to the other child at 25 weeks, and he's been in incubator for 115 days now. I'm having a hard time these days. I found out that WooDongJin's album is coming out and Hyemi is pregnant. I sincerely wish you good health and if you see my comment, please pray for my son's health. I'm a long-time fan. I just came back to Instagram after a long time. I'm rambling about my upset feelings because your post came up. ERIC:  I pray for you. Lovely Gunwoo, please get well, grow up strong and healthy and protect your mom! Power!!!🔥

Source: muneric & Liveworks’s CEO Lee Jang Eon Translation: EricMun.tumblr

#Shinhwa #Eric #Eric Mun #Eric Moon #Na Hyemi #Munstagram #Eric is an adorable husband #신화 #에릭 #문정혁 #에릭문 #나혜미

[cmrosens]

#MonstrousMay Day 3: Hypnotised

An extract from Chapter 9 of THE DAY WE ATE GRANDAD

“You look nervous,” Jem Foreman observed, and Theo tried not to blush. Nerves were natural, he told himself, and not at all a sign of doubt. It was the thrill of it, being so close to ultimate power, the source of their family’s glory.

Of course, Jem was never nervous. He was as stoic as usual, defying the warmth of the late spring evening with a plain grey golf jacket to hide the ooze seeping through his shirt. They were in the car park of an abandoned warehouse, where Japanese knotweed and nettle patches had fought the concrete and won. The warehouse was one of David Wend’s, but Theo wasn’t sure if he knew his relations had commandeered it.

Uncle David hadn’t used it for a while, probably not since the people trafficking thing. Theo had heard rumours that had ended badly. He wondered why Uncle David was still alive.

Theo shook his head. “I’m fine.”

“You better be.”

“I told you I wouldn’t let you down,” Theo said, trying to keep his voice level, “And I won’t.”

Jem eyed him. “I hope that’s the collective ‘you’, not me personally, because this isn’t about me. And it’s not about us, either. You know that, right?”

Theo wanted to know what the fuck ‘us’ meant if it didn’t mean dinner and a bottle of red wine in front of the television and screwing whenever Jem felt like it. If that wasn’t enough, he’d hoped being part of this greater cause would at least make Jem see he was boyfriend material.

“Of course I do.” Theo licked his lips. “Am I in trouble? For running away yesterday?”

Jem shook his head, giving him a soft smile of reassurance. “No. You’re not in trouble. Her glory has come in handy, though. We’re making use of that in the ritual today.”

He turned and beckoned Theo to follow him.

“Her glory?” Theo picked his way carefully around the potholes and headed to the heavy metal side door.

“Such as it is. Wend-McVeys aren’t exactly prime specimens. But the shrine wants what it wants, and it wants someone’s glory for this ritual. Why cut one of ours off when hers was lying there?”

Theo tried to act nonchalant. “Granny Shaw used to say—”

“With the greatest respect,” Jem said, cutting him off, “If it wasn’t for Olive Shaw, we’d have already Ascended. Neither Beverley Wend nor Olive Shaw had the sense to see Granny Foreman was right. It’s our time. That’s why we’re here. Right, Theo?”

Theo stopped, cheeks burning. He made himself nod.

“Right, Theo?” Jem repeated.

“Yes, Jem,” Theo said.

“Are you ready?”

Beyond Jem was the darkness of the warehouse. It was all very straightforward, nothing to worry about. Theo licked his lips.

“Sure.”

Jem handed him a robe and a mask from just inside the door. Theo slipped them on, letting his eyes adjust to the gloom.

The light was steadily fading over the tarmac and concrete beyond the car park fence, the sky bleeding reds and oranges in sickly bands that made him feel empty inside. Sunsets always made him feel weirdly anxious, balanced on the edge of the definite velvet energy of nightfall on one hand and the clear rush of day on the other.

He didn’t like the weak amber of the dying sunlight, refusing to give up for far longer than it should. It was a nothing time, a nowhere time, and Theo hated it.

The warehouse swallowed them in shadow, and it was a relief when the door closed and left him safe in the dark.

The Remnant were gathered, robed and Changed, and Theo allowed his proboscis to slide out of his throat to demonstrate his own glory, such as it was. It unfurled hesitantly, hard slim casing pressing on his tongue, a reedy thing next to all the crustaceous limbs and anemone fronds like udon noodles cased in aspic, the thick octopodid arms and needle-mouthed suckers, the tight, thick coils, strong as snakes, tough as tree roots.

Theo rubbed the back of his neck beneath his hood and nearly knocked it down again, jostled by the press of relatives.

He had managed to hunker down in his pew when the family fled the church, but bruises were starting to form on his sensitive skin, marks of sensible heels and just-in-case umbrellas as his aunts clambered over him to flee their Death God. Theo had fled too, once he’d stopped being trampled.

The jostling reminded him of where the bruises were, and he whimpered, scuttling through the crowd to find somewhere he wouldn’t be elbowed in his tender ribs.

He didn’t know what had happened to Layla, but he prayed to Grandad that she was all right. He’d always liked her.

The shrine was in the middle of the derelict space, containing pieces from the Wend shrine salvaged from Wundorwick and articles from the Foreman shrine used by the last head of the family. With the devouring of Uncle Marcus and Aunty Ida, the family were rudderless, and there had been no time to call another election. The other shrines lay silent and abandoned.

Theo slipped to the front, letting the conversations wash over him.

The body of this shrine was an antique apothecary cabinet that had belonged to Olive Shaw. There was an engorged heart pierced with a large hatpin on the flat top. The drawers were open in a pattern forming a rough spiral, and in each one a strange stone phosphoresced. A ring of candles encircled it, more for the aesthetic, Theo supposed, but also because there was no electricity in the warehouse, and it was getting dark.

His proboscis throbbed with his quickened pulse and flicked involuntarily around before he could retract it.

Jem oozed over to his brothers Gavin and Brandon, laconic Gavin fresh from his latest hike across the Andes with his close-cropped beard and chestnut man-bun perched high on his head, bully-boy Brandon standing to attention like a militarised slab of beef.

The three of them entered the circle of candles, and a hush descended on the gathering.

“Are you ready to see yourselves for what you are?” Gavin asked, taking the lead.

“We are,” Theo said with the others, sucking in his proboscis to speak clearly.

“Are you ready to see what awaits us?”

Theo was less sure of this, but he answered appropriately, and in unison. “We are.”

“Tonight, we open the portal,” Gavin said, and a thrill chased up Theo’s back. There was a hiss of anticipation, and Theo stopped listening.

Gavin was giving it the hard sell, the way Theo tried to sell waistcoats to the guy who came into his shop every Wednesday to buy another tie, but it was the shine in his eyes that held Theo’s attention.

Gavin had never looked twice at Theo, but the few words they’d exchanged over the cold buffet last Yule had been pretty great.

Theo huddled in the safety of his hood and robe, burning with guilt over Jem’s brother, desperate for Gavin to look his way, while wondering if Jem even cared where he was. The more impassioned Gavin got, hood down, candle flames throwing sharp shadows across his strong cheekbones and chiselled jaw, the more Theo throbbed with shame and longing.

It was when he missed a crucial part of the speech that prompted liturgical responses, too tongue-tied to get a word out, that he realised his heart wasn’t in the future of the family the way it ought to be.

He wasn’t ready.

The three Foreman brothers began to chant. Layla’s severed glory was unwrapped by Brandon and placed alongside the heart. The mouth at its tip fastened onto the oversized organ like a leech, the severed end jerking into life.

Theo flinched as Jem cut his arm and oozed over it.

It was always about sacrifice, about pain, about blood.

Doubts prickled in the back of his mind. Would it ever be anything else? When Grandad rose, when his priests swarmed and covered the earth, what would they get at the end? What would be left?

Until then he had imagined a new world order, the kind of hedonistic utopia of legend and myth.

Gavin was waxing lyrical about conservation and eco-spirituality and how they were really saving the planet, how nature would find a balance and the Remnant would be transcendent, Ascended, the true gods ruling over lesser species. That didn’t sit well with Theo.

Jem had always emphasised the physical changes, the attaining of godhood, the power they would wield as their birthright and reward. Now, he wasn’t sure what sort of reward that would be, but he was starting to think the image he had in his head – an image Jem had encouraged – wasn’t quite what would happen.

The ritual began.

Theo hadn’t been part of one like this since his own Changes, drawn into Great-Aunt Beverley’s cellar with his siblings and parents, trying not to cry.

He quivered, wishing he hadn’t pushed his way so close to the shrine, and realising the press of family at his back meant he was stuck there.

The stones glowed; the heart began to pulse.

Reality tore in front of him, a white-hot flash ripped through the air in an arc within the circle of candles. Theo couldn’t catch his breath, air rushing by him in a rollercoaster of spinning fractals while he knew he was standing still.

The light was bright as lightning, and then it was daylight. A blinding sun lighting a wasteland of obsidian and jet, reflecting into the warehouse. Theo stared into the desolation of Grandad’s domain, eyes aching and dry, and saw things that might once have been trees, stunted and fossilised on a headland of rotting fish thrown up in low tide. This was no utopia.

The chanting of the Remnant reminded him he should be chanting too.

Jem was shifting shape in front of his eyes, twisting into something elastic and indescribable, something fluid and solid at the same time, something alien and erotic and wonderful. Theo felt a tug in his own throat and let his proboscis free.

His throat expanded around it as it uncoiled, not the reedy little thing of a few moments ago, but something that the rest of his body burgeoned from like a fruit, his whole sentience and senses bound up in the length of star-grey, rippling power arcing from his mouth. His lips stretched wide, then wider, his teeth sank into his own flesh and his skull cracked and split.

Everything that was Theo was falling away, limbs nothing but stumps, extremities discarded. He was only his glory, his glory was him. He arced through the air, hungry for assimilation.

LET ME THROUGH!

The Voice filled Theo with ecstatic terror. It brought him down from his flight of glory and flung him back to his eighteenth birthday, the day he’d Changed. He remembered the pain, the needle in his neck that pushed through and strangled his vocal chords, the blindfold that itched, the way the cellar floor had become hot black sand…

He shrank back into nothing at the irresistible demand and realised how small he was compared to the Voice, the power in it reverberating through every fibre of his body.

His proboscis withdrew, all its glory illusory.

Theo would have fallen if it weren’t for the family pressing around him, keeping him on his feet.

His doubts crystallised in cold certainty.

He didn’t want to meet the Voice at all.

There was no way to close the portal now that it had opened; or if there was, Theo couldn’t think of one. He couldn’t move, the candles now an impassable ring of brilliant fire that was somehow a solid wall of glittering air. Nothing made any sense. The warehouse was twisting out of shape, and Theo was sure he was upside down.

Then he heard it.

Not the Voice.

Worse.

The rustling of insects, wings beating in sync, a swarm of something terrible, massing over the volcanic crags and filling the alien air. The swarm grew louder, and Theo saw them masking a shape, something that moved in impossible angles, something vast and horrible, coming for them with frightening speed.

Panic seized him. His chest turned to ice.

He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. Someone pushed him, desperate to get closer, and Theo fell into the candles. He bounced back, singed, and knew even if he ran away it wouldn’t help.

Joining an apocalyptic death cult solely for someone he was screwing to finally admit they were together was the worst choice he’d ever made, and it was also going to be his last.

Theo braced himself, a sob of horror escaping his dry mouth, waiting for the swarm.

Something twinkled in the wasteland between the rocks. It grew and glittered, a second portal of light drawing energy from this one.

Theo felt a tug in his head, a strange itch behind his eyes.

He saw a face.

It burst into his head with sudden clarity and it was not a face he had ever seen before, but it had a strange air of familiarity as if it had always been lodged in his brain somewhere.

It was not a human face, but it wore one like a mask.

It had too many dimensions, too many layers, too many sides. It had human features, but even they weren’t right, as if the Face had heard about human eyes and noses and mouths when making its copy, but had never seen them before. The Face defied description, eating away at his attempts to make sense of it, feeding from his confusion.

The Face was the only True Face he would ever see.

Theo prayed to the Face to save him from the swarm, offering his strength and soul to the Face if it would close the portal.

The True Face stared through him, now all that he could see, all that he was aware of. Its not-human eyes glittered darkly, a myriad of others trapped behind them, making up the fractured colours of the irises.

It saw him, saw straight through him, saw him naked and exposed and raw, a grub of slime and quivering terror, and its lips peeled back from too many molars into a wide, stretched smile.

Theo’s strength leached out of him.

Something cracked. He heard it, a sonic boom somewhere in the Outside. The shrine exploded in shards of stone and painted wood. The portal closed.

Theo fell back as the candles were extinguished.

He lifted his head from the blood-splashed concrete.

Jem, Brandon and Gavin Foreman were dead.

He was coated with them.

The warehouse echoed with the Remnant’s moans, mutterings and wails of dismay.

“Did you see that?” Theo hissed, grabbing a cousin’s arm. “The Face! Did you see it?”

But the cousin shook her head. “I don’t – what happened?”

“The Face,” Theo whispered, too stunned to process the fact that bits of his lover were all over the fucking walls. Weirdly, he didn’t care. The Face stuck in his mind, sharp as a cravat stud. “Did anyone see it? Anyone else?”

Only a few looked at him as if they knew what he meant. The others had glazed expressions, as if waking from bad dreams.

“The Face,” Theo whispered, his head buzzing.

He stayed on the floor, coated in blood and scraps of Foreman flesh, as the screaming finally started.

#monstrous may #writeblr #eldritch horror #cosmic horror #cosmic horror but sexy

[missguomeiyun]

Homecooking [Feb ed]

Another month has gone by. I think it’s bcos it was a short month, time went by even faster. Literally.

The highlight of this month was definitely doing an Acanthamoeba stain at work for an eye specimen. The procedure is so .. annoying to perform. Acanthamoeba is a single-celled organism that causes rare but REALLY BAAAAAD infections of eyes (most commonly isolated site) & generally skin. It can be found everywhere in water & soil (ie: environmental source). Ppl usually ‘get’ it via dirty water & unsanitary conditions in swimming pools or putting in/removing contact lens. Protect your eyes, ppl!

In any case, my 1st time doing the stain & wetmount for this at work. It’s very involved - from setting up to cleaning the bench after. Apparently it can ‘crawl away’ O_O but you can’t see it with naked eye obviously so you CLEAN the heck out of everywhere. Anyway, it took me a long to complete, & I hope I won’t have to do it again any time soon lol

Alright, onto the food :D

Gailan + squid fish cake bar + egg + thick rice noodles. I used a simple chicken broth.

I transformed some of my leftover HelloFresh food into this breakfast bowl. This contained sweet potato, potatoes, cheese, meatball, cocktail sausages (from Costco), & the gravy. I liked this better than what the recipe gave me lol Honestly, this was like diner restaurant food.

Pasta with eggplant + tomato with some cocktail sausages. I just used a cheese + olive oil ‘sauce’.

Braised beef noodles~ This was so goooood! I loved the daikon bcos it soaked up all the flavours. Pls disregard the singular wonton haha it was a leftover wonton from my niece’s lunch.

Instant noodles with leftover braised beef & daikon. Yes, that is a raw egg :P I don’t know. .. just decided to try something diff. It was neither a hit nor a miss.

Vegetarian cheonggukjang :D  again & again, I keep saying the same thing.. . once you’ve tried cheonggukjang (the strong, more fermented version of deonjang), you won’t be able to go back haha

So hearty~ Edmonton had a few days of like severe cold weather around the 3rd week of Feb., where it felt like -40 with the windchill. I made this for lunch for one of those days.

Here is the other half of the cheonggukjang. 1 package of this brand of cheonggukjang base is too much for 1 person. It’s VERY salty. I personally use it for 2 meals (or 2 servings). It really does serve 2 haha I don’t usually add noodles to my cheonggukjang but wanted it in noodle soup form that day. .. equally good no matter what.

Bokchoy & pork belly with udon noodles, in miso soup.

I like the Six Fortune brand fat/circular udon.

McD’s DELIVERY  wooooooOOOt! Ordered it for no reason, really. Just felt like it. I have plenty of coffee at home haha 1st time trying the iced caramel coffee. It was soooo bland! I actually ended up adding my own coffee to me. Just the instant coffee. Like I made a super saturated/concentrated instant coffee with Nescafe powder, & then just poured it into the iced coffee after some cooling. THAT made it so much better.

*Note to self: just don’t order the iced coffee with no cream + half syrup + extra iced. 

On sale beef at Hmart. I would’ve wanted a little more fat but . .. still good! I love beef haha

A loooot of beef + flat rice noodles. Don’t worry- I always have veggies. It’s just that my parents & I were going for the “carb of your choice” dinner so we all had a diff carb, while sharing the veggie stir-fry.

Cute, huh? The same beef with my homemade garlic stem banchan.

Pasta for work lunch~

Perilla seed powder sujebi with bokchoy & (Costco) chicken. 

Finished this book :D

Guess the noodle (brand/kind/flavour!). Prize? Nothing.

#food #homecooking #homemade #lunch #dinner #healthy #sort of #i cook #cooking #noodles #pasta #steak #mcd

[floatingstage]

i survived my first week of grad school!!  (!!!!!!!!!!!!)  moments:

scenic design is super technical and part of me knew that and factored that into why i decided to go to school for it BUT all this dealing with “real life” is making me miss animation lol so i’m trying to reengage that part of mahself

my roommate is definitely an ST and it’s influencing how i organize my thoughts...

on the other hand my cohort-mates are super N so that helps recalibrate me

my department head is like Kirk from Gilmore Girls, he works every job and taught almost all of my classes this week to make up for one lost professor and one very-far-away professor

the Invisible Cities assignment made me realize i’m very into the concept of “thin” designs, like spaces that are elementally sparse

scenic painting is separate from scenic tech (revelation 1), and it is SUPER badass (revelation 2)

did you know that the really good paint bristles used to be made with Russian boar hide, which was (more?) ethical because Russian boars naturally shed their hair? but during the Bolshevik Revolution they were killed off for their meat, and now we get our bristles from boars that are factory farmed

need to look up: whether conserving water in one state actually helps those who are experiencing drought in other states since idt states necessarily share water sources??

money still weighs heavy on my mind but i need to remember to contain that anxiety cuz i want to fully flood the senses with this art school experience

but i also gotta figure out how to have a life outside of school, too, since i used to do art things in my free time and now my regular time is art...

there are abundant film screenings and performances to be seen at school and i can go to all of them for free (T_T)

i think i need to learn how to work more slowly and thoughtfully, i kind of rushed through my lettering assignment

we’ve been really making our studio space suitable for those intensive all-nighters; J ordered a dog bed for the space under her work desk and is going to hang up curtains and string lights for ~max coziness~

i ordered udon and cup noodles and aromas and Milkis to sweeten my little corner, which is positioned so perfectly that i can’t really see anyone in my periphery unless i actively try

i very thirstily reached out to meet with my advisor and i don’t feel bad about it...yet

i had some really nice FaceTimes this week and it made me remember that i’ve got to work hard to maintain the connections i’ve made because they make me happy and fulfilled and more ready to take on this new life here

i’m really enjoying so much of it so far (>.<) *knock on wood*

#diary

[sirthisisa-wendys]

i just dreamed about keizo being a perv and now im very much distracted

perv!keizo who keeps stealing your panties when he comes over

perv!keizo who's hands grope your ass when you go to hug him

perv!keizo who places your things in high places so he can watch your tits bounce when you try and jump for them

just keizo being a perv

(there was also perv! takeomi but that's a different thing)

Biggest Fan: Keizo Arashi x Fem!Reader

wc: 686

tw: NSFW

masterlist

song recommendation:

The deep inhale of your scent is the only thing that keeps Keizo going in the mornings.

In his fist is a set of your panties, the blush-colored fabric lacy and precious. He'd sent them to your house - all nice and packaged up with the bags still on them - from SavageX, like a good little perv.

If he was asked, he'd deny ever knowing what the brand was. The hours spent scrolling through the inventory when the first of the month came around were all a source of fiction! He'd never leave that on his browsing history! (Although, he did have fun swiping over the newest arrivals posted to the Instagram page and saving his favorite looks for later).

Again, if ever interrogated without a lie detector, he'd lie straight through his teeth.

Keizo stole more than just a pair of underwear while pretending to be at your house for just your monthly "friends-dinner". While Takeomi, Waka, and Senju were chatting it up over udon and soggy corndogs, he'd sneak away to the "bathroom" before dipping right into your room to rifle through your underwear drawer.

It took him some time in the darkness, but as his hand dug through the treasure trove, they hit something beautiful and soft. Bingo. And now that same pair sits underneath his sock drawer, tightly packed into a vacuum seal bag that's hidden with four other pairs.

But after he stole your underwear, he stole a hug and a long sniff. Keizo loves how you squeak when his hands drift too low, or how your breasts feel against his chest. They smash so neatly into his body like they were the soulmates to his own pecs. And when your chest is bare underneath your shirt - as if he can't notice when your nipples are less "up" and almost turned up ever so slightly when pebbled - he holds on especially tight. Or he'd make you jump for things. You always holler and scream that he's playing "dirty, no-good tricks" on you to make you feel small.

Oh, he knows you're small. He just wants to see your breasts leap with you as you try to reach the top shelf.

Sometimes his hands have a mind of their own when he hugs you, the old callouses playing dirty tricks on his mind while he runs them over the soft flesh of your ass.

It's then Keizo wants to whisper, "let me taste you," so Waka and Takeomi can't hear him, their eyes focused on their phones or other things.

Keizo likes it that way, though.

As he wraps the fabric around his length, he moans and grunts.

"So good for daddy," he breathes, as if you were actually there, cunt rubbing over his cock. He sends his hips right up into the crotch of your stolen lingerie, closing his eyes and pretending with everything in him that it's you. You're the one sucking him in with your greedy, sloppy hole. You're the one teasing him to the brink and allowing his fingers to roam while you caress his nipples with your own.

You're the one telling him to cum inside of you like the good little girl you are.

You're such a good girl.

You want him to fuck your cunt; to use his length to punish you for some fake offense, something you did while he wasn't looking.

You're the one who wants him to suck your tits because they're so round and need to b--

Keizo's white, thick cum leaks down his fingertips, coating them liberally. He quickly unwraps your underwear with his other hand, careful not to get a single drop of the white liquid on it. And it was difficult, seeing as he still jerked a little in his palm; more cum than the last time slipping down to his balls.

Yes, Keizo loves being the thief in the night. Stealing these things and using them are tributes - the only way he can actually be close to you. It's the only way he can really have you.

He's your biggest fan, after all.

#keizo arashi x reader #keizo arashi #keizo arashi smut #arashi keizo x reader #benkei tokyo revengers #benkei x reader #benkei smut

[howisavedtheworld]

enough | hanamaki takahiro

genre: heavy angst to fluff, a *lil* bittersweet lmao, timeskip!hanamaki takahiro x fem!reader/gn!reader, established relationship

warnings pls pls read: money problems, cursing littered in a lot of places, mentions of feelings like depression, exhaustion, loneliness, crying, etc., blood mentioned *once* (it’s from a callus, it is nothing extreme but i want to state it explicitly anyways) if there’s anything else brought to my attention ill fix accordingly

a/n: hi!!!! it’s been like two weeks since i’ve posted, i’ve been in a slump, but i’m going to genuinely try to be more consistent and kind to myself abt wat i create! also every thing i’ve ever written on here is ib my personal experiences

heads up tho, i havent read the manga and this is just my dramatized take on his life post-time skip and certain things may be inaccurate 

enjoy!

also proofread at 4 am lol

wc: 1385

PLS GIVE THIS FIC A CHANCE ITS NOT ALL SAD I PROMISE

                                               -

if hanamaki takahiro were to say he’s “tired,” one would deem it a grave understatement.

he’s not just tired.

he’s drained.

for starters, he’s worked three back to back shifts and it was barely reaching wednesday. monday at the deli was tough, considering he spent twelve straight hours packaging and stocking prosciutto and mozzarella sandwiches and arranging bags of kettle-cooked chips by flavor across the aisles of the store.

tuesday was even harder, the double shift at the restaurant hitting his already fatigued body like a brick. it was tiring enough to run around speedily clearing dishes and wiping down tables for six hours but it was absolute overkill to then spend the entire night cleaning the restaurant and prepping it for the morning crew.

6:39 am.

that was when takahiro finally left the restaurant, forcing his sluggish sore limbs to make the trek to the train station for the long ride back home.

in truth, the word “tired” barely even scratched the surface.

but he needed the money.

he needed it badly.

bills were always lingering on the brim of takahiro’s mind: the rent, the light bill, the water, the electricity. it left with him the constant urge to move, to work, to always be on the lookout for his next paycheck.

and of course, this wasn’t the best arrangement nor was it the life he’d hoped for.

of course, regret encompassed him, bound itself to his very being.

he wished he went pro after his glory days at aoba johsai, that he’d tried a little harder to be something. maybe then he’d have the opportunity to play in argentina, to travel the world, or to get signed by a sports brand just for the sake of it.

of course, he always felt a pang of jealousy for the ones that made it big.

even the ones who didn’t.

the ones with stable incomes, who could sustain themselves with only one job, who owned compact sized cars, who could actually save a single dime with hopes of eventually going on vacation.

deep down, he was jealous of them, too.

and he wondered, as he finally stepped foot on the train heading north, feeling the ache in his heels settle, if this would ever feel like enough.

if working two jobs back to back would ever amount to any feeling of satisfaction, if it was okay that he would only ever be remembered as the guy who didn’t go pro, who never got his degree, who was barely getting by.

he really didn’t think so.

because how could it be enough?

how could he have nothing to show for the life he lived?

sometimes, takahiro felt almost as if he was cursed. that life had dealt him the worst of cards just to see him crack underneath the pressure.

a lot of times, he did.

he had his fair share of low moments: the time he found himself shedding tears in the back of the deli, hiding behind loaves of rye bread and cold cuts hoping nobody would catch him.

or the time he bandaged his own bleeding foot by himself at the restaurant because his calluses broke open and everyone else was simply too busy to help.

in these moments, hanamaki felt so alone.

as if the world had forgotten him, had continued to spin on its axis, leaving him alone to figure out its rotation.

in these moments, he really just wanted to run away from it all.

to quit his jobs and just disappear for some time.

but he couldn’t.

because hanamaki takahiro had also learned that in every shitty day or moment, there was a flip side.

there had to be a sliver of hope in the midst of darkness.

7:32 am. 

that was when hanamaki got home.

he stood for a moment, fumbling with various receipts and trinkets in his pocket before he finding his keys and opening the door.

it was quiet. 

he could only hear the whirr of the shaky air conditioner and the hum of morning birds outside the bay windows of the living room. he took one step inside, wincing at the ache in his legs and sharp jab of pain up his spine.

locking the door behind him, he slipped off his shoes before the silence was broken.

“baby?” your soft sleepy voice rang through the apartment, making his body jump.

he was sure you’d be sleeping by now.

“hey, babe.” he let out a exhale of relief that you were the source of noise. “sorry if i woke you.” 

you sat up from your position laying on the couch, shaking your head incessantly while wiping the grog from your eyes.

“no,” you quickly spoke. “i was waiting for you.”

his heart skipped a beat looking at you, your eyes half-lidded from exhaustion with dark circles underneath them, your hair completely disheveled from your awkward sleeping position on the couch, and you wore his old seijoh jersey that was too large and slipped down your shoulders, the hem falling just above your knees.

you looked at him, offering a soft smile before beckoning him over to you. “work must’ve fucking sucked, c’mere.”

and you were so right.

it was awful.

he took lengthy strides over to you before dropping onto the couch, his head finding its way to your lap.

your fingers instinctively reached to stroke his soft locks and he sighed, leaning into your touch.

“are you hungry?” you murmured. “i made udon earlier. it’s cold now so you’ll have to warm it up.”

he was hungry, desperately so after not having a moment to get even a small snack in at work, but he wanted to stay here for just a little longer, pressed into you, feeling the pads of your fingers against his scalp, smelling your conditioner and listening to the softness of your voice.

he shook his head, and you laughed, knowingly nodding. “okay, you can eat it later.”

“how was work for you?” he questioned, eyes fluttering closed at serenity of the moment.

you hummed, fingers still locked into his hair. “shitty. you know, usual bullshit with customers. but i think with my next paycheck, we’ll make the rent.”

his eyes snapped open to look up at you, and you were staring down at him, an excited smile on your face when you locked eyes.

and takahiro knew you had hopes and dreams, that you wanted to go back to school and get your degree and have a normal job, and eventually buy a house and car, and maybe have kids, but you always said that part wearily, claiming you both should start off the family off with a pet first.

he knew you wanted something different. you’d told him.

but even now, in this moment as he stared up at you, saddened by the fact that the future you hoped for was nowhere in sight, there was no inkling of disappointment in your eyes, no what-if, no questioning of if it was enough.

you looked at him like the life you had was all you’d ever asked for.

as if of course it was enough.

before he knew it, a single tear rolled down his cheek.

your eyes widened and you moved a hand to his cheek, wiping the tear away.

“i love you.” he stated, a few more lone tears sliding down his face.

your face softened before you squeezed his cheek with your hand.

“hey.” you beckoned him to sit up.

he followed, sitting up to face your frame on the couch. “don’t cry ‘cus we made the rent. there’s always other bills you can pay. if that’s what you’re worried about.”

and he laughed, nodding while tears spilled over his irises and he watched you through bleary eyes, wipe each one away and pull him into an embrace.

“i love you. you know that, right? i’ll always love you.”

hanamaki takahiro realized that in this lifetime, he doesn’t need a sports deal, or a compact car, or trips to argentina. even if life were to always be this hard, if he was always teetering on the in-between, if this was all the universe had to offer him, that was okay.

because it had granted him you.

and you, alone, were more than enough.

#hanamaki takahiro x reader #hanamaki takahiro fluff #hanamaki takahiro angst #haikyuu! x reader #hanamaki fluff #hanamaki angst #no bc its almost 5 am and im working tmrw

[ohshitmomitsawritingblog]

Yay I found another blog that does headcanons for naruto!! I’m so excited I hope this is an okay ask but can I have headcanons on what it’s like to be sasuke’s twin sister? It’s okay if you don’t want to

You know I was going to delete this but this got my brain cranking along like the rusty little train that it is, so—

What it’s like to be Sasuke’s twin sister?

One word: exhausting

I think having a sister would’ve totally changed the trajectory of Sasuke’s life - that is to say, especially if she survived the massacre, but I’m getting ahead of myself.

Sasuke’s twin would’ve been inherently integrated into shinobi life and inundated with expectations of what it is to be a Uchiha without actually being apart of it like her brothers.

Given their parent’s dynamics, I imagine she’s given mostly domestic responsibilities and is expected to carry and represent their nuclear family in civilian settings. There’s no real expectation of her becoming a shinobi, but that’s also because Fugaku probably doesn’t think a lot about his daughter. Given what we see with how he treats Sasuke, I just can’t really fathom him valuing any extra children, but especially the ‘youngest’ girl.

This man does not respect women I’m SORRY.

The misogyny is located in the jowls.

If Sasuke is the spare, his sister is the spare’s spare.

Sasuke both scorns his sister (either for her attempts at training without approval or disapproval, or for her being domestically trained, or both) and loves her greatly.

His sister loves him and scolds him ruthlessly - a trait that sours over their lifetime together, but is fostered by her lack of fear and complete awareness of who she is, who her older brother is, and what her twin brother will be.

Despite Sasuke monopolizing much of his time to training from a young age, there’s always some twin time - they eat lunches together, they wade through ponds in the spring to catch frogs, and take walks in the woods surrounding Konoha.

Often in their younger years, they’ll huddle under covers at night and conspire about the future. Travel, fantastical dreams of being some undefined best at something, their secret wants and needs.

There’s the dynamic before and the dynamic after their clan’s demise: Sasuke intermittently snubbing her yet always coming to her defense like the little sweet little boy he was, and then the mutual, slow divorce of anything either could call closeness.

She activates her sharingan less in a fit of rage and more while driven, blindly, by her own fear. A boot that is not Itachi’s digs into her back with a cruel twist. She gurgles and chokes on her own blood and the world washes out and away and yet is a perfect picture in her mind upon recall.

They can’t speak to each other, and they can’t talk. Nights where either tip toes into the other’s room after a nightmare or sleepless silence are ruined by either finding themselves on the knife’s edge of a gut churning memory. Black eyes and black hair repel them both from seeking out comfort. The familiarity is alienating and painful, disconcerting on good nights, terror-rage inducing on the worst.

She stops cooking. Sasuke learns how to clean. Their only interactions are when he stiffly asks her how to make something or how to fix a torn sleeve. Little questions tailored to the end goal of complete independence. She can’t even snark about how ‘these things aren’t silly now, are they?’. They weren’t, but now they don’t have a mother nor a father nor aunt nor uncle to teach them anything else. They rely on her knowledge because, what else do they have?

They both drown, and they can’t save each other. Both are made more aware of their own suffering by seeing it in their perfect mirror image. The companion they’ve always had since the womb is now a source of agony, and yet the empathy they hold for one another is powerful. It causes them to avoid each other unless they are home or at school. They sit on opposite ends of the classroom. They skip or make meals at odd times to avoid the feeling of waiting, or of playing house with all the important toys having gone missing. It’s a sham they both resent.

They want to go home. They don’t believe in building homes out of other people, let alone each other. So where is home?

His sister starts to cook again when they’re ten years old. She realizes that her brother, who is taller and wider and more muscular than her by then, weighs less than her. She cooks him udon and leaves a note that even if he eats it cold, he still needs to eat.

The bowl is empty and washed the next morning.

His sister becomes a shinobi for many reasons, but mainly, she simply refuses to allow her idiot brothers to play at blood sport while she buries her head in the sand.

There’s also the matters of: her idiot brother and his pride that will inevitably get him murdered, the constant implications that she is only good for marriage, and, eventually, the deep knowledge that she doesn’t want her eyeballs ripped out.

Their early ninja days are spent more or less the same to the ones leading up to it. They’re rarely home, with conflicting schedules and assignments that leave them bone tired when they are.

Slowly, though, her brother changes. He smiles more. He cooked for her, once or twice. He gains weight. Like a murky, undefined shadow, she mimics.

I think they start to reconnect. They don’t since at the sight of each other anymore. Sometimes they even hug. They both have a certain kind of hope that is fragile and newborn, stumbling on fresh legs. They try very hard to be the family they need, for a moment.

Sasuke’s stay in the hospital during the chuunin exams is only a hiccup, a way for her to integrate, even a little, into the world of team seven.

Kakashi-sensei is a strange man, but he’s kind, too. Like her brother, she warms to him quietly. Sasuke seems to trust him, and that’s good enough for her to throw her own sense of trust in the pot.

Of course it all comes tumbling down rather soon after, doesn’t it?

#sasuke uchiha #sasuke headcanons #sasuke hc #sasuke imagines #girl I posted this w/o putting anything into it I am SORRY #thanks for new oc material tho #also ‘I love my brother. but I know him.’ vibes

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 139

Day Two of the Food Festival!  This one has a specific request from @baelpenrose, which was fun to play with in the Low-Stim session (always on day 2).

To everyone who has reached out to tell me how much they are enjoying getting to see Sophia actually relax and just have fun for once.... Y’all are the best! It’s been fun writing it, too. 

New reader shout outs go to @corvallis, @penguin--person, @amphibiousuprising, @chip5-0, and I think @lostsoul8822. I think that’s everyone... If I missed you, please DM me, and I’ll add you to the next chapter.

On with the show!

The first day of the Festival, Conor and I ended up staying through not only Maverick’s shift but the one after, just so we could drag him to our favorite spots. Day two, however, Conor was on deck as Support Personnel as well as Maverick, and neither were assigned to me - for the first half of day two, we were in the Low Stim Mode, so I was pretty sure I could brave it on my own with everyone else’s proximity alerts and my own personal hyper-alertness preventing accidental bumps.

For me, the most exciting part was the different foods offered, and the fact that I could focus on just the food. Not having to ignore the other stimuli was a completely relaxing experience. The visual of the mural, with everything present, was still completely different in the even, indirect lighting. The dual nature of it was toned down significantly, leading to the overall feel being softer and overall more pleasant without being distracting.

Halfway through a very good pad thai, I spotted Derek and Sam sitting with Ivan and poking at something that Sam was clearly excited about and Derek was equally doubtful of. I circled around so they could see me approaching, and made a point to wave. “What do you think?” I asked, trying to sign as I spoke but hampered by the food in my hands.

“It was a good try,” Derek confessed, cheeks stuffed with something that had previously been on a plate to his left as a backup plan.

Setting my food down, I grinned mischievously. “Doing my best,” I signed, leading to laughter on all sides.

“You just told him you do him the best,” Ivan murmured, my face immediately flooding red.

“That is NOT what I meant,” I tried to explain out loud, over-enunciating while I clenched my hands in embarrassment.

To his credit, Derek signed what he seemed to understand I meant, emphasizing each sign. It was clear that I had gotten several out of order and added one that changed everything overall.

After repeating the signs and getting confirmation, I shook my head and sighed dramatically. “I tried.”

Ivan was trembling with laughter. “You. You did,” he admitted. “But that was… wow.” His head dropped on his hands as he shook silently.

“Souffle pancakes?” I offered, finger spelling the word souffle since I had no freaking clue how to actually sign it.

“Egg pancake,” Derek explained, poking the one I offered and contemplating the jiggle.

“It’s cinnamon sugar, and not gooey,” I explained.

Apparently I got that one right, because Derek immediately stabbed a piece and shoved it in his mouth.  The only judgement I needed was the fact that he dragged the entire remaining pancake onto his plate.

Sam watched his roommate before contemplating his own sample. Before he could even ask, I held up a cup full of macerated berries. “And fruit topping for you, sir.”

“Are those my berries?” he asked, skeptical.

I shook my head. “Bog standard, from the consoles. Your vegetables and fruits are being used in the other shifts. We didn’t want to give anyone here unexpected tastes.”

He nodded and dumped the entire cup of fruit over his pancake, digging in happily.

Ivan batted his eyes at me until I explained. “Sam’s produce has… unexpected pairings. Tomatoes that pair with cheesecake and wines, strawberries that really go well with steak…”

“The mango that goes with beer but not fish?”

“Yeah, that one. Von soil does strange things to produce, turns out.”

“Those matcha-edamame are amazing though.”

“For ice cream, yes. For tea, less so. They’re like… cooking matcha, almost.” I laughed. They actually worked better for ice cream than matcha did, oddly - reducing the sugar content but still giving the same flavor.

“One vendor on the last day is using nothing but my produce,” Sam announced happily. “They asked my permission.”

“That’s good!” I encouraged him. “They should always ask your permission to do things like that.”

“People ask with requisition forms,” he agreed. “Mona asked in person.”

Note to self: much more patronage at Mona’s normal spot, I swore in my head.  She specialized in vegetarian dishes, and honestly made some of the best fried cabbage I’d had in my life.  Knowing that she was so considerate of Sam cemented her as my new favorite takeaway place.

After a little more chat, I finally waved my goodbyes to everyone and strolled slowly to the next tempting stall. I wasn’t really in any hurry, and did more people-watching than I did eating. Latkes were infinitely more interesting when I could overhear people arguing over family recipes.  A small bowl of udon was delicious, but not nearly as flavorful as the discussion around hot versus cold, what to top them with, egg or no egg… the only thing anyone seemed to agree on was that the smiling vendor ‘obviously’ ground their own flour, because the flour provided by the consoles was the wrong texture.

Another mental note: don’t learn to make udon.  Despite what I had previously believed, it takes a lifetime to make it right, turns out.

Wandering further down, I was delighted by the discovery of something that was very clearly Hannah’s doing: demonstrations of older food prep techniques.  Simon winked at me as he carried on a demonstration of - insanely - how to hand pull toffee. I didn’t know he could do that. Muna was demonstrating the correct way to make chapatis and handing them out as fast as she was making them. Clearly, she had been making them her whole life, because at no point did I actually see her look at them, but every single one was perfect.

Laughter erupted over my shoulder, and I whipped my head around to see the source. After wading through a crowd of smiling faces, I couldn’t help but join in.  There, right in front of the entire Ark, was Maverick trying to flip takoyaki as fast as the person demonstrating, and ending up with just a mess of octopus and batter on his side.  Both Maverick and the person guiding him were smiling, though, and in the end, the vendor handed Maverick four perfectly-round balls and quickly devoured all of the - less shapely, so to speak - ones on my partner’s side.  With an exuberant cheer and extending his arms wide to the crowd, the man exclaimed “The first takoyaki of a new student are always my favorite! Nothing tastes better!”

After bowing to his sensei, Maverick turned and spotted me, face still flushed with laughter.  He offered his food to a smaller man I did not recognize, who must have been the person Maverick was Supporting, before waving to me and continuing on.  Despite the urge to crush him in a hug, I forced my feet to stay in place and reminded myself that he was working.

By the time I trusted myself not to race after him, I realized someone had been trying to get my attention and had resorted to messaging me rather than shouting. “Phee, I don’t know what la-la land you are lost in, but look 100 yards to your four.”

The hell was Arthur doing here? He wasn’t scheduled to work this shift, as far as I was aware.  Craning my neck over my shoulder, I turned to see… Apparently a hallucination. It had to be.  There was no chance in any of the nine hells that Arthur Farro was dishing out spaghetti, much less smiling while doing it.

Almost dreamlike, I found myself drifting over to confirm that I was wrong, only to be startled when he shoved a plate with not only spaghetti but two gorgeous pieces of garlic bread under my nose. “Special plates, you can’t smell anything unless it’s on purpose.”

“You… Spaghetti?” I asked, eloquent as ever.

“Family recipe.”

“Leaning into the stereotype a bit, aren’t you?” I asked carefully before shoving as much of one thick, crusty piece of toast in my mouth as I could.

He shook his head. “Anyone who tells you their family is Italian and denies having a family recipe for anything is a damned liar.”

Skeptically, I took a bite. It was amazing. “Ah ee deh rehahee,” I tried to get out around the heap of pasta I was steadily shoving in my mouth.

“Maverick is a very bad influence on your table manners,” he observed drily, plating more portions and handing them out. “And no. Not happening.”

“You know I can cook.”

“Not the point. I also know that you will fiddle with it until it is unrecognizable, so there’s really no point in giving it to you.”

Defiantly, I took a smaller bite and chewed carefully. “Garlic, onions, obviously. Sausage and minced… Lamb? But that’s probably just for this session, knowing you it’s spicy sausage regularly.  I’m not getting carrot, though, so no soffritto? Unexpected…. Is that thyme, I’m tasting?”

“Rosemary, you heathen. And you’re still wrong.”

I mumbled to myself. “What did I get wrong? It’s gotta be the lamb… maybe he does usually use the lamb? I’m certain it is lamb…”

“It is lamb, and no, I don’t usually use it. But you left several things out.”

I stared at the plate again, confused. “I didn’t think I needed to mention the tomatoes….”

“Basil… oregano….” he drawled.

“Duhhh?” I poked through the last bite on my plate, sniffing it, trying to figure out what I was missing. “Fine, you win, I’m lost.”

“Mushrooms, Sophia. There’s mushrooms. Jeezus. It was an easy one, too.”  He showed me a bowl full of what looked like cooked and crumbled sausage, only for me to realize it was the tiniest diced mushrooms I had ever seen in my life.

“I am dying to know how you got them that small.”

“With a knife?” He arched an eyebrow at me as he turned to start another batch of sauce.

“Yeah, no shit, Arthur.”

“Correct, there is no shit in the spaghetti,” he confirmed cheekily as the vegetables started sizzling.

“Asshole,” I laughed, scraping the remaining sauce from my plate with the piece of bread I saved just for that purpose. Just as I was frowning at the sauce-less plate and remaining half-piece of bread, a scalding hot dollop of fresh sauce invaded my vision.

“You love me, because I won’t let you frown at your bread like that.”

Fiiiinnnne I sighed in my head as I shoved a piece of saucy, saucy bread into my cheeks and waggled my fingers to let him get back to work.

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#the miys #found family #humans are weird #science fiction #aliens #apocalypse #humans are space orcs #humans are space fae #earth is space australia #post apocalypse #post post apocalypse #original science fiction #original sci fi #original writing

[putschki1969]

H-el-ical// Q&A Corner（Vol#1）

Today at 20:00* (JST) the first episode of H-el-ical//’s new video project "H-el-ical// Q&A Corner” will be broadcast on the official YouTube Channel. Please look forward to it! (Twitter source)

[Note: In her tweet, Hikaru says the video is airing at 22:00 in English. Please note that it is 20:00]

VIDEO LINK

SUBSCRIBE to Hikaru’s YouTube Channel!

H-el-ical// Official

Summary

Hikaru is answering questions which she received in the comment section of THIS video. I agree with @chibalein and @concretebadger, the BGM sounds like something we haven’t heard before so we could get a new release pretty soon.

Anyways, this is part 1 of the Q&A Corner. She will answer the other questions in a second part. Without further ado, let’s get to the questions:

Team udon, team soba, team ramen or team something else? When it comes to udon and soba, she prefers udon. Even thoug h you traditionally eat soba for New Year’s Eve in Japan, Hikaru always eats udon :P  As for ramen, she really loves it, especially miso ramen. Hikaru wonders what could be meant by something else...maybe pasta? She loves that too.

How about selling postcards, calendars and clearfiles with her photo as merch? Hikaru is kinda shy so she hasn’t sold any of those visual goods so far. But if the opportunity arises in the future, she will do it. Please have some more patience.

Favourite character in Kimetsu no Yaiba? I think she says Tamayo. [Don’t know any of the characterts]

These days everyone worries about their immune system and how to strengthen it. Anything particular she does to take care of her health? She can’t really go to the gym anymore because of corona so she does her best to do ?? every day.

A question referring to the chicken tatsuta burger which is sold in Japanese Mc Donalds. This year there was a collaboration between the tatsuta burger and the popular song Touch ( タッチ ), the opening song of the anime of the same name. Hikaru posted this tweet back in February. Since this is very nostalgic Hikaru is supposed to share an anecdote from her student days. Something about her school being big and at a sports festival they were split into four groups and her group was in charge of supoort...[not really sure on this one]

Favourite type of flower? She loves baby’s breath.

Would she ever take on the challenge of singing enka? It’s super difficult so probably not. She is not sure that opportunity will arise for her any time soon.

Would she ever like to do a narration job in the future? She doesn’t wanna rule it out so it might be a possibility. But since she is from a rural area in Japan, her dialect and her intonation might not be what is wanted for a narration job. She would have to work really hard to talk in what’s considered to be standard Japanese or whatever.

Will her backpack ever be available in other colours? And will there be a second series of the Gachi backpack? Many fans said that they would totally buy different colours if the price was cheaper HOWEVER black is actually the cheapest colour to produce so it’s a little difficult. Eventually there will be a questionnaire though. As for a second series, she is definitely taking it into consideration.

What kind of child was Hikaru? Has she always loved singing? She was a super open and social child at age 3~4. To the point where she would befriend total strangers at the park for which she would usually be scolded by her parents. Now as an adult she is much more reserved and an indoor person. And yes, she has ALWAYS loved singing.

Any power meal she has? Not really. She doesn’t really eat a lot before singing. But after an event/recording etc she always feels like she deserves some sort of reward meal. For example, after finishing that shoot she will probably go an have a hamburger. She loves junk food so she will typically gravitate towards that.

Any plans for future videos? Anything she would like to try? At the beginning of the year, she posted her first cover which was quite the challenge for her. But she would like to continue doing stuff like that and challenge herself further.

Where is her recommended power spot? When she does sight-seeing, she likes to visit temples, shrines and castles. But honestly, her bed is the place that provides the most comfort and strength.

Any game she has recently been into? Her younger sister recently bought some Switch game called Bokujou Monogatari so Hikaru has been borrowing her sister’s Switch to play from time to time. She has also played older versions of the game.

How was it to sing “stone cold” at ANIMAX MUSIX? She was super nervous, it was like her heart was beating out of her chest. Still, it was a lot of fun and she is glad for that opportunity because otherwise she probaby wouldn’t have had a chance to sing it.

#kalafina #news #hikaru #helical #helical video series #ahhh #excited #but damn it #I have a workshop at at that T_T #h-el-ical// #hikaru// #helical QA corner #summary #my summary

[chayacat]

Devil’s Sweet Star (38)

Fandom: Dead by Daylight

Ghostface x Female Reader  

Rated M for Violence, Language and Smut  

***

Soon. Soon, death will strike with its vengeful and saving scythe. Soon the blood will flow, in a golden setting. soon... Danny will kill Hoggins. After tomorrow, in the evening, to be more precise. But before that, the festival. Tomorrow, Danny will have to do everything possible to stay focused for article on the Roseville Festival. Mattew and Melina will be there to support him, but he is the one who will take the pictures. And he will have to take a lot of them. He will not really have time to enjoy it unfortunately. Especially since they will not be the only journalists on the spot, newspapers from other cities will be there too. It will be an opportunity to see new faces... and if possible, to have an exit door. Because if he can impress these journalists, maybe they'll offer Danny to come and work with them? Maybe.

The police will also be present to monitor the central square. Wilhelm too, unless he was too busy with Hoggins. But there will be at least one inspector, that's for sure. It remains to be seen who it will be. And you will be there, holding your stand, selling your pastries with your two employees. Just like Danny, you won't be able to enjoy the festival fully but it doesn't matter, you can always have a little party... in private.

Besides, Danny thinks back to last night. He appreciated that you were more playful, more enterprising with him. It amused him a lot. A sneaky smile stretched on his face; he already imagined all the little "games" that you could both play. But he will start slowly, he would not want to destroy everything. Mattew comes to rest next to him, sighing completely exhausted.

“Did you get up on the wrong foot?” asks Danny.  

“No, the boss wanted to see me for tomorrow... he told me to focus on the festival and not on the stands to eat. But if there is the pastry stand of (Y/N) I will not be able to resist! He knows it! I would like to see him in my place, I am sure he would do the same!” responds Mattew sulking.  

“Haha it's clear, but he's not wrong especially that other journalists will be there as well, we have to look good in front of them. But don't worry, I'm sure (Y/N) will still have a lot of cakes for us. And then you can taste his famous cake. I can't wait to see what it will look like in the end.”

“Besides, how does it work in your new apartment? doesn't that make you weird all this space?” replied Mattew.

“Very well, very well... it’s true that at the beginning it was strange to live together when we used to live each on our own. But we get used to it. And then... we have several opportunities to... test the resistance of the bed, if you know what I mean.” responds Danny, smiling jokingly.

Mattew looked at Danny with big eyes while Melina who was passing by at the same time started laughing. Danny also laughed as he patted the shoulder on his colleague who was still shocked. All three took a coffee break to chat a little, while enjoying the fresh air... of the air conditioner. It was a little hot today and, in the offices, even more. So, the air conditioner was welcome. They meet Nancy, the newcomer of the team. The poor woman was lost, until now she had only done odd cleaning jobs despite her diploma as a journalist. She wore small round glasses, her black hair tied in a ponytail gave her a little schoolgirl side or the cliché of shy and clumsy women. Afterwards, the poor woman was really clumsy. How many times has she dropped her coffee? too many times to remember. And it had only been a week since she was there.

“Have you heard the latest news about Hoggins? Apparently other former collaborators are ready to testify against him if there is ever a trial. From what some have said, Hoggins has been manipulating people for years and years to get them to invest in his business and mysteriously they have all sunk. He even did it with foreign collaborators. What a son of a bitch.” Said Melina.  

“He really fucked the whole world this guy it's not possible. Let him be fucked up in prison once and for all! The prisoners will take care of him! If you see what I mean...” responds Mattew.  

“The famous trick of the soap?”

“I would rather say the famous Swiss army knife trick. It's very easy to get one in without being noticed in prison... I've seen that before.” Replied Danny, sipping his coffee.  

“What? have you ever been to prison?” asks Melina shocked

“Yes. When I started my job as a journalist, me and my superior at the time went to a prison to interview a prisoner who was wrongly accused. And we took the opportunity to write about what was happening in prison. At one point I turned my head towards one of the cells, and I saw one of the prisoners pull out a knife that he had had hidden in a banana bread.”

“A great classic that. I am still amazed to see that the prison guards are not more on their guard than that...”

Danny shrugged his shoulders; he was not surprised. As it did not surprise him if these same prisoners managed to escape. But because they are idiots, they end up in prison again for the same crime. Dumbass. Danny never got caught at least. At the same time, he did everything to never get noticed or arrested. And yet he left from afar! He learned on his own... and he was lucky. And he intends to keep his chance with him... Oh, yes.  

Observing through the window, Danny noticed that the city was adorned with a thousand colours. The last banners were hung, the leaflets distributed, the posters glued. Tomorrow, Roseville would have been in existence for exactly 32 years. And Mayor Tallis is the one who runs this city... This man is truly an impressive person. And respectable. It’s perhaps the only one that is respectable in this city.  After you.

Our trio went back to work, each on their article, Danny on Hoggins' article. So, he's hated all over the world... In a sense it wouldn't be so bad if Hoggins stayed alive. it could be the scoop of the century! the case that could boost his career! Imagine how sensational a trial article could be. Especially if it's Danny who writes it. Even if he is a murderer, this is not a reason to abandon those why he spent his youth and his studies. He has to work hard, very hard even to get to this point! While Danny was working, his phone rang. A hidden number? That's not a good sign... unless it’s still these sellers who are trying to bait you with their stupid products.

“Roseville’s Gazette, Jed Olsen on the phone, what can I do for you?” said Danny.

“Hi..."Olsen".” responds a man voice.

“Hoggins. How did you get my number?”

“I have my sources as well. But you suspect that I am not calling you out of pure courtesy.”

“Gets straight to the point. What do you want?” replied Danny.  

“Leave this girl. Otherwise, you'll regret it bitterly little asshole. You don't realize who you're dealing with...” responds Hoggins.

“No, I think it's YOU who don't know who you're dealing with. And believe me I intend to make you pay for it. The prisoners will take good care of you, when the court will sentence you to jail for fraud, plus a voluntary homicide... You are cooked Hoggins. You can hide, you can lie as much as you want, you will not be able to escape your destiny. If Ghostface does not decide to kill you for copying its modus operandi. Because he attacked poor people for a few days... because of you. He can't stand being robbed of the show. Now if you excuse me... I have a job to do. Oh, and one last thing...” said Danny Before taking on a more menacing tone: “If you dare to threaten MY girlfriend again... it’s not her who will have an accident. But you.”

Danny hung up dryly, leaving Hoggins no time to say anything. This guy doesn't lack grit decidedly... he will have been a strong opponent, Danny must admit. But not enough to survive any longer. He sent an email to Wilhelm where he explained everything that was said in the conversation between him and Hoggins. Like that, it will make one more ball at the foot of this son of a bitch.  

The rest of the day went smoothly. Mr. Hembrook had summoned Danny to set up tomorrow's day. There will be a total of 4 newspapers, including them, at the festival. It will therefore be necessary to look good! It will also be necessary to take good photos, and to transcribe the speech of Mayor Tallis. Unfortunately, not everyone will be able to come tomorrow. The Gazette must therefore allow these poor people to know what the mayor said for this year's festival.

He worked another hour or two before returning to the apartment. It was quite late, and he had sent you a message to warn you to not wait for him to eat if you were too hungry and he apologized. To which you replied that it didn’t matter, and that you would put a plate aside for him. He parked, entered the building, and went up to the apartment. When he opened the front door, it was dark. no sign of life from you... Until he sees something moving on the couch. When he turned on the light, he sighed as he saw you asleep and, in your pyjama, his coat on you.

“Honey? Honey... Wake up... I'm home.” said Danny.  

“Hm... Jed? Sorry I fell asleep... I'm going to make you warm up your plate... I hope you like Udons...” you respond rubbing your eyes.

“You should go to bed instead... you barely stand. You must have had a big day. I'll take care of everything don't worry about it... I join you after eating and after a good shower.”  

You nod by yawning, which made Danny laugh. He placed a kiss on your forehead before letting you go to your room. Poor of you.... you are exhausted. He warmed up his dish of Udons and moved to his office to work. He worked for an hour, then he left his office by locked it, made the dish, took clean clothes and went to shower. He changed, and walked into the room, to find you asleep in bed, Danny's cushion in your arm like a stuffed animal. You're so cute... He gently regained his cushion, putting himself in the place of the latter in your arms. He laughed lightly when he saw your arms tighten around his waist, and he placed a kiss on your cheek before turning and stalling in bed.

He looked at his phone for about ten minutes, just to find sleep, which eventually happened. He thought back to the conversation with Hoggins. If only he knew what awaited him... if only he knew... But that would spoil the surprise. 2 Days... it's going to be a long time. But the most amusing thing will not be hoggins' death. The most fun will be your reaction. And whatever your reaction, he's ready to react. For good and for worse. A little conversation between Danny and Jed is in order.

“Everything is ready for your little massacre?” said Jed calmly.

“You don't seem to object to it this time... Jed.” Responds Danny.

“Don't claim victory too quickly, I'm not for that kind of thing... But here Hoggins touches on something precious. Or rather someone. As much for me as for you. And I'm not going to let him do it.���

“No, it's ME who's not going to let him do it. Believe me... you'll enjoy the show too.”

“What's next? What will happen?” replied Jed.  

“I don’t know. We shall see how things develop. In the meantime, we must prepare... as much for tomorrow. That for the day after tomorrow.” responds Jed.  

Yes... we have to be prepared. Because these next two days are going to be intense.

But really delicious.

***

(Phew! this week has been just as busy as the previous one! But I managed to finish this chapter! As for the RE8 fanfic I'm progressing pretty well! I may do a little teaser post to give you an overview! As for the title... I'm stuck. I have three ideas in mind and I can't make up my mind... Help me XD I hope you’ll like this chapter like the others ones! Well, it's time for my brain to rest! Have a great weekend to you all!  See ya!)

#dbd fanfic #dbd #dead by daylight #ghostface #danny johnson #jed olsen

[bakuhoes-slut234]

Aizawa x reader smut - Birthday part 2

Y/N and Aizawa walked down the sidewalk toward the beach, hand in hand.

Aizawa was still sulking while staying silent.

Y/N really felt bad about making him think that she forgot his birthday but she needed to for the plan to work.

The sun was down, the only light was from the street lights above them.

They got to the beach, no one else was around.

Aizawa let Y/N drag him in whichever direction she wanted.

He just wanted to go home and sleep.

Soon, a small trail of lights came into view bit he didn't think much of it. Often couples would have dates on the beach so he wasn't surprised to see it.

As they got closer to the light source, he began to wonder why it was there since he couldn't see anyone else around.

They got to the start of the candle lit path and began to walk down it.

"Y/N, what are you doing, this probably was set up by someone for a date?" He asked.

Y/N just ignored his question and continued to pull him down the path.

He looked down at the pathway, noticing small rose petals scattered on the ground, both the petals and candles leading to the gazebo.

His eyes widened as they got to the gazebo where a candle lit table stood with two plates covered by metal lids were placed.

She led him to the tabled and pulled out a chair for him.

"Sit down babe" she said.

He say down and she pushed the chair under the table and moved to sit across from him.

She poured two glasses of chilled red wine into the glasses that sat empty upon the table.

She uncovered the plates to show the meal that she had cooked, still steaming.

"Happy birthday Sho" she said softly, a smile graving her features.

"You... Didn't... Forget..." He mumbled

"No, I didn't. "

"I'm sorry for shouting at you" he said, looking down at his lap.

"Don't worry about it." She smiled.

Aizawa looked up at her with guilty eyes and saw the smiled that she was wearing. She didn't seem to be bothered by his outburst earlier.

"Did you do this all yourself?" He asked.

"No, I had some help. I asked Mic to keep you busy" she said and that earned a growl.

"Then I got a certain feathery hero to help with the final touches while you got dressed" she said.

Aizawa stayed silent for a while, just looking around to really appreciate all that she had done fore him.

"Thank you" he whispered and Y/N smiled

"Now eat before it gets cold" she beamed and ate a mouthful of food.

Aizawa took a bites and hummed at the taste.

He knew this taste, it was Y/N's special Udon.

As he was about to take a second bite, Y/N jumped and began to dig in her handbag.

"And now?" He raised a brow.

"I have something else for you" she said and pulled something out of her bag.

Aizawa looked at her with curious eyes.

She held out a closed hand, looking down at her lap.

He reached out and opened his palm.

A small, smooth object was placed in his hand as Y/N's pulled away.

He looked at what she gave him.

"What's this?" He asked.

"Push any button and find out" she said, still not looking up at him.

He hesitated for a moment before hitting the second button.

A small buzzing sound made itself known and Aizawa looked up at Y/N in shock. The buzzing sound was coming from her.

She was biting her lip and squirming in her chair.

"You didn't" he smirked, small tracing of him holding back a laugh came through in his voice.

"Maybe I did" she mumbled.

"Look at me" he said but Y/N still refused to.

He smirked, looking down to see there was a totals of 5 buttons on the small remote.

He clicked on the third one and looked up to see her reaction.

She bit harder onto her lip as she unsuccessfully contained her whimpers, some leaking past her lips.

He was going to have fun with this new toy.

"I must say, very daring. I was shocked to know you were planning on this... But in public as well..." He teased.

Sure there was no one around, but that was just Y/N's pure luck.

Aizawa turned off the small device, seeing Y/N relax again and turned to her food.

They ate a little bit before her pushed another button, not bothering to see which one.

She squirmed more as she struggled to get a mouthful of food to her mouth.

Aizawa was enjoying this.

For the rest of dinner, he was continuously turning the device in and off until they were done.

They got up and began to walk back home. He continued the torture the whole way there.

Once they got home, Y/N practically ran to the bedroom.

"I need to get changed. I'll call you when I'm done" she said as she sprinted to the room.

Even once she was gone, he still pushed more buttons. Sure, he couldn't see her reactions but has a satisfactory smile when he heard a soft whimper come from the bedroom.

~

Y/N got to the bedroom and pulled off the dress, leaving her in just the sexy lingerie. She put on the cat ears and looked at herself in the mirror, nodding.

She lay down on the bed, getting comfortable but still trying to look sexy.

"Shota~" she called

She heard shuffling around and footsteps coming close.

The door opened and presented Aizawa with a smirk, holding the small remote.

That was until he saw what was waiting for him.

He dropped the remote on the floor, accidentally clicking a button, making Y/N whimper more.

He quickly pulled off his shirt, shoes, socks and pants. Leaving him in just his boxers.

He gently lowered himself onto her, holding himself up with his elbows.

"So this was your plan all along?" He asked with a smirk. Y/N nodded

"If you wanted this so badly, you could've just asked Kitten~" he coed.

"I wanted to make you feel special" she mumbled

"Well, you definitely did"

He leaned down, placing his lips onto hers in a hungry kiss.

Y/N kissed back with just as much hunger as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

His tongue slid over her bottom lip, asking for access which she gladly gave him.

His tongue immediately dominating hers as she didn't put up a fight.

Their tongues danced together, mixing saliva.

Aizawa pulled away from the kiss and moved down her neck, immediately attacking her sweet spot, coaxing a few soft moans out of her and leaving marks in his wake.

He made quick work of her clothes, wanting them gone as soon as possible.

"As sexy as you look in these, I think they would look better on the floor" he said against her neck and began to strip her and then rid himself of his boxers.

He trailed kisses from her neck, between her boob, down her stomach.

He then pushed her legs apart and settled between them.

"My, my. So wet?" He teased.

"Shut up" she grumbled, making him laugh.

His tongue ran over her clit while the small vibrator was still on inside her.

She visibly shivered and then roughly tugged him back up to eye level.

"No, no more teasing" she said.

"But it's my birthday."

"Please Shota" she whimpered

"Beg kitten"

"Please Shota, no more teasing. I want- need you" she begged

"That's not good enough" he husked.

She huffed before continuing

"Please fuck me Shota. Fuck me until I can't walk"

"Good girl"

His lips connected with hers again as his fingers circled her clit. He wanted to make her whimper just a little bit more, the device still going.

Her hands found their way into his hair and tugged gently, making him groan.

His fingers moved faster and he could feel Y/N's legs start to shake.

"Close... Please" she begged

His fingers sped up and just as she was about to cum, he pulled out the small device.

Y/N whined but was cut off by a loud moan.

Her legs wrapped around his waist tightly and she threw her head back.

He stilled for a moment to give her time to adjust.

Once she nodded, he didn't waste any time.

His hips snapped quickly into hers, the sound of skin against skin filling the room.

"F-fuck. Shota~" she moaned.

"Say it again" he said through gritted teeth.

"Shota~"

His thrusts sped up, becoming more powerful.

Y/N was already growing close to her release from all that happened up until now.

Her legs began to shake again, walls starting to tighten.

"Fuck, kitten. Keep squeezing me like that and I won't last" he growled.

"Sorry" she said between pants.

"Shota~ C-Close. Very close-"

"Me too"

He moved at an inhuman speed. Moans filling the room.

Y/N's nails dug into his back, then clawing down, leaving small cuts in their wake.

Aizawa groaned and put his face at the crook of her neck, kissing and sucking.

Y/N's legs tightened around his waist, squeezing him. He knew she was really close.

Suddenly, he bit down on her neck, hard enough to leave a bruise.

That pushed Y/N over the edge as she clamped down around him, moaning his name loudly.

It was too much for him. He moaned out and gave one last thrust before stilling.

They both stayed like that, catching their breath.

Aizawa gently pulled out and went to get a damp cloth.

He cleaned them both up and lay down next to the half asleep Y/N.

"Happy birthday" she smiled.

"Thank you. Goodnight my love"

"Goodnight"

[belliesandburps]

(Not My Writing) De-Stressing Story (Bakugou post-stuffing fic)

Heyo! So, with all the chaos and everything going on, I thought you might want a way to de-stress and unwind, ya know? And erm, what better way to do that than with a post-stuff fic? 😅 I know my writing isn’t as good as yours, but hopefully it won’t suck too much ass. 😌

Just a lovely lil quick fic written by the same rising fan who wrote up that last fic with Bakugou.  They wrote this a while back and for reasons unknown, I forgot to share it simply because things HAVE been incredibly hectic on my end.  But I absolutely loved this and was incredibly grateful that they were so kind as to actually take the time to write something up for me.  So the least I can do is share it with y’all so you can enjoy a fellow fan’s great stuff!

And to the writer in question, I loved this one and appreciate that you took the time to create it big time!  ^^

“Damn Shitty Hair! Fuckin’ feedin’ me all that motherfucking food… Fucker better be glad I’m too fuckin’ stuffed to chase after him… Damn asking me for fucking critiques… Fucking fucker … Fuck!”

There's only one person who swears so much in a few sentences, Deku thought as he made his way out of the bathroom. Oddly enough, for once, he wasn’t the source of incessant mumbling. His classmates would probably have commented on that if they weren’t out doing their own thing on a sunny Saturday.

Well, everyone except for Todoroki, who scrolled through his phone at the kitchen table, and -

“Kacchan? Are you - woah. W-what the heck happened?”

“Fuckin’ Shitty Hair happened, ya damn nerd.” Todoroki glanced up from his phone.

“If I recall correctly, you made no move to stop the plates of food Kirishima asked you to critique. In hindsight, you over-ate because you were hungry from your morning run-”

“Don’t tell me what I did, Half-and-Half bastard!”

Izuku sighed before his eyes widened. Bakugou’s stomach currently stuck out a good foot, hiking his black tank top up and exposing his aching organ. Fortunately, his black sweatpants had no buttons to lose. The stomach churned away, eagerly processing spicy udon, katsudon, beef strips, calzones (he told Shitty Hair to use fuckin’ pepper jack next time), iced tea, and a crisp Coke.

GWwWooOOoorn…

Bakugou flipped Todoroki off (he was too busy hearting Momo’s Instagram page to notice) before tenderly caressing his bloated stomach. Deku came over.

“Are you okay, Kacchan?”

“Tch! Do I look like I’m okay, ya fuckin ner-”

GWwLOURP!

His stomach gurgled angrily. Bakugou felt a pocket of air dislodge and make its way up his throat.

“Kacchan, that sounded bad. Do you think we should -”

BUHuuUuuUUUUUUUuUUuUUURP!

The boy in question threw his head back and unleashed a loud, chunky belch. He grunted when it ended.

“Tch, still feel more in there…” Deku scratched the back of his neck.

“What did you eat to make you so… bloated?”

“NONE OF YOUR DAMN BUSINESS, SHITTY NERRRRRRRRD!” He belched the last part of his insult before putting a fist to his mouth.

MMMMMMMMMMMMRRRRRPH!

“Guh! I’m gonna murder fucking Shitty Hair when this is over!”

“Kirishima? Now that you mention it… Where is he?”

“If he’s smart, he’s hiding from my raAAAAAAAaaAAaOOOOOURP!”

“Your rage?”

“YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN, FUCKING DEKU!!”

“Kirishima ran off after Bakugou chased him around the kitchen.” Two pairs of eyes faced the Heterochromia-eyed teen, although one pair was flaming with rage.

“Don’t you dare finish that though, IcyHot,” Bakugou seethed. Todoroki glanced at the boy’s stomach.

“Kirishima was trying out several new recipes and asked if Bakugou and I wanted to be his samplers. We agreed.” Deku could hear Kacchan raging internally, not unlike his aggressively churning stomach.

“We said yes, and Bakugou devoured pretty much the whole plate while giving out various insults. ‘Add more heat, Shitty Hair’, 'when I bite this, I want to feel some fucking crunch’, 'just right’, 'give me more…’ This went on until Bakugou rendered himself immobile and threatened to blow Kirishima up, who ran away laughing.” Todoroki shrugged and motioned to Bakugou, who burped deeply into his fist. “That’s why I’m not currently nursing a bloated stomach.”

“Half-and-Half Bastard…!” Bakugou’s eye twitched as he gingerly stood up.

BWOorOoGL!

“I’m gonna make you pay for that…” Unfazed, Todoroki hearted another one of Momo’s pictures before he stood up.

“Guys, wait!” Deku shoved his way between the two of them, bumping into Bakugou’s stomach in the process.

Big mistake.

OWOURGull…!

“Kacchan, if you’re the one who ate a-all that food, then -”

“Get the fuck out my way, Shitty Nerd.”

“No.” Todoroki flexed his right hand.

Oddly enough, Bakugou… relaxed. And shrugged.

“Your loss.”

His shit-eating grin did little to settle Izuku’s nerves.

Bakugou placed a hand on his angry stomach and pushed. HARD.

BLouurWouurgl…

Izuku’s faced paled at the very rich grumble.

“That didn’t sound good.”

Todoroki finally realized why Bakugou wasn’t attacking and tried to warn his friend.

“Midoriya, he’s going to -”

BREEEEeUUUUuuUUUUUuuuUUUuUUUUUAAAAARP!!

“… Burp.”

Poor Midoriya. Too shock to move out the way, he could only take Kacchan’s eight-second belch point blank.

“What the heck, Kacchan?!” He spluttered while coughing and fanning the air to displace the smell of beef and cola.

“Told ya t’ move, Shitty Nerd.”

GurWOL!

HUU-HOOoooooOOOOUUUUUUUUUUURP!!

Todoroki blinked while the bassy, gaseous expulsion erupted out of Bakugou’s mouth. Izuku frowned.

“At least it’s better than trying to blow me up… But it still smells…”

“Oh yeah, speaking of blowing up…” Izuku took several steps back as the explosive blonde wrapped his arms around his stomach and squeezed.

BUUUUOOOOOooOoOOOOWUUUUUUUUUUOOOOOOORP!!

While his stomach-soothing skills could use some work, it was decent enough to unleash a colossal belch that roared on for a whopping ten seconds. Izuku felt sorry for anyone outside the dorms who heard that behemoth (and secretly hoped Aizawa wouldn’t wake up from his nap).

The belch finally came to an end, leaving Bakugou’s stomach relatively deflated. Now only sticking out a good six inches, it didn’t affect the hero-in-training’s mobility as much.

That wasn’t good for a certain redhead.

“Kacchan,” Deku moaned while waving his hand, “quit blowing your burps over here.” To this, Bakugou forced out a chunky afterburp and made sure to blow harder.

“Now it smells like udon…”

“That’s whatcha get fer tellin’ me what to do, Shitty Nerd. Now…” He turned towards the doors leading outside with an eerily gleeful expression.

“I have a certain Shitty Hair bastard to deal with…”

#not my writing #kink fic #gift fic #bakugou #explosions #explosion #post-stuffing #bellyache #bloating #bloated belly #stomach gurgles #burping #lots of burping #midoriya #nerd #todoroki #mixed #seriously thank you once again for taking the time to write this up #you're awesome!

[starswornoaths]

Prompt 16: Lucubration

Moen. Why did you give me this troll ass word. Why did this word, of all of them, give me Immense Emotions.

Have an Academic AU set 600 years after xiv. Do not perceive me.

To say that discovering what had happened to those closest to the Warrior of Light from the Seventh Astral Era, now some six hundred years past, was the culmination of Ciri’s life’s work was a gross overexaggeration, though it was the first project she had been approved for grant money to pursue out of graduate school. It was an interesting enough period in history that there was ample interest in the nitty gritty of it, though the obtuse nature of the way that era was chronicled had made it an intimidating one to approach.

Ciri didn’t know the concept of being intimidated by academic research, however, and had leapt into it headlong, eager to know what had become of the historic figures that had risen up in the wake of the Serella Arcbane of legend.

It had been fairly easy to reverse engineer her path of adventuring, and from there, Ciri had managed to discover so much more than she had thought she could in some case, in others, almost nothing. Which had ultimately led her travels to Ishgard, tucked away in one of the recently restored Scholasticate libraries, pouring over tomes and records by low lamplight to help with her migraine.

It was late enough that everyone else in the building had long since gone home, save for the janitorial staff. It was a common enough occurrence that Ciri made it a habit of buying the lot of them takeout while she was there. Half as a bribe to not kick her out, but mostly so she could continue her work unburdened with the worry that they hadn’t eaten enough in the day. 

There were reasons she was their favorite academic.

“Still here?” A dulcet voice asked from the doorway to the archives.

Emil. She didn’t even have to look up to know. She would know him anywhere.

“As ever.” She called back. “What on earth are you still doing here?”

“You should know me better than that by now.” With the echoing clack of his footsteps approaching her, she was spared being startled when he set a thermos on the table for her. “I couldn’t well enough just abandon my partner in crime.”

She spared him a plain look from over the tome she had been pouring over.

“You just don’t like going through that one street alone, do you?”

“Have you seen the way those dancers leer at me?” He gave an exaggerated shudder. “I can’t tell whether they’re trying to lure me in to seduce me or put me to work.”

“The woes of bountiful beauty.” Ciri sighed, and snapped the book she had been reading shut.

She tossed it to the side of her in half disgust, along with the veritable mountain of other tomes that had proven to be just as uninformative.

“You would know far more than I.” He cooed around a saccharine smile, preening at the way she flushed at the compliment.

“You do this on purpose, I swear it.” She grumbled goodnaturedly.

Though Emile laughed, his eyes scanned the discarded tomes, pursing his lips. “Still having trouble finding him, then?”

“Technically.” She heaved a sigh, her back thumping against her chair as she took a moment to pout in a manner most unbecoming an academic. “I keep running into dead ends. He was a goddamn world leader, how does history lose someone like that?!”

There yet remained one final piece of the mystery she needed before her work was done. She could not leave it to be lost to the annals of history for no other reason than her lack of due diligence, that was for damn certain.

“Quite easily, I assure you.” He replied, and finally held up a bag of takeout he had brought up with him and set it on the table. “Take a break with me, rest your eyes.”

He set out a variety of containers, each more fragrant and savory than the last. Betraying her own neglect, Ciri’s stomach growled loud enough that he paused in divvying up food to arch a brow at her.

“When did you last eat?”

“...Monday…?” She said hesitantly once she had ticked back the hours. 

It was only Tuesday, right? That wasn’t so bad.

“Cirilla Anne Dubois! It’s Wednesday!” Sparing a glance at his watch, he grimaced and amended, “Thursday, by now! Eat!”

He set a large soup container in front of her to punctuate his command, and the scent of beef broth filled her senses. She had to swallow heavily from how her mouth watered.

“Udon…?” She asked hopefully.

“Of course. And a shared order of tempura.” He promised, laying out another container between them.

A ritual for them, to share meal and knowledge alike. Something that had carried over from their days in uni, and even before then. She had been glad for Emil’s constant, comforting presence throughout their travels and research. They could be doing nothing but laughing over a silly video on his tomephone, and sharing bits of food, and still, she would be the happiest woman in the world.

Emil somehow seemed to always know when she needed a break. The food had been exactly what she had needed, she realized the moment that the first bite had settled on her tongue. He had even brewed her tea, she realized when she popped the thermos open and sniffed at the delicate complex and slightly sweet aroma. 

Truly, these were the moments that made her work worthwhile.

“Review with me, like we always do. Something to break up the lucubration by lamplight, if you will.” Emil brought her back, the bright amber of his eyes comforting in the low lamplight. After he chewed around a mouthful of curry and rice, he continued, gesturing with his chopsticks. “Tell me of the other Alliance leaders, and how their stories ended.”

“But you know. You’ve been with me every step of this research trip.” Ciri whined after a long dreg of her tea.

“Sure, but isn’t it important to look again? To make sure you didn’t miss anything?” He encouraged. 

He had a point, even if Ciri didn’t want to admit it.

“Where to start…” She tapped her fingers on the table. “Lyse Hext and Hien Rijin formed a bridge between the Doman and Eorzean Alliances when they were wed, paved the way for current world politics in that regard, though they ultimately focused on adopting refugee children and rebuilding Doma and Ala Mhigo respectively. Admiral Merlwyb Bloefhiswyn adamantly refused to retire until she had found a suitable replacement.”

“Only for her First to ultimately convince her to do so that she might marry the love of her life.” Emil supplied, food all but abandoned to focus his attention solely on her.

“Y’Shtola Rhule, of all people.” Ciri snorted. ““The only woman to keep me honest. I would have no other.” It was so recorded she had said in her wedding vows.”

“Good for them.” He nodded.

“Raubahn Aldynn eventually retired from his position as General of the Ala Mhigan army, and had lived a content life as a hobbyist carpenter and full time grandfather to his son’s children.” She paused to chew on a mouthful of noodles. “For the life of me, I couldn’t confirm who Pipin Tarupin had settled down with, though there is some suggestion that it was eventually Nanamo Ul Namo, having all but disappeared upon successfully dissolving the sultanate of Ul’Dah.”

“It’d be a neat end to several loose threads.” Emil shrugged a shoulder. “Can’t blame popular theory for running with it.”

“I just hate that I don’t know— and I’d asked Kan-E-Senna in that interview, too, lest you wonder.”

Kan-E-Senna didn’t count as a reliable source of information on the whole, the crone. Eternally youthful and blessed by the Twelveswood, Ciri had squared her away with a simple interview. The Elder Seedeer had been a bit of a dead end for damn near everything but Merlwyb and Y’Shtola’s wedding, citing that she had simply not been very close with anyone else, preferring the company of the wood itself.

Ciri still couldn’t tell whether that was the truth, or she was just being an obtuse old bat having a laugh at a young academic’s expense.

“Dead ends, all, for what on earth happened to the last of them.”

She blew a curly bang out of her face with a frustrated huff. Infuriatingly, it sprang right back to where it had hung in her eyes. With an agitated grunt, she sat up and gathered all of her hair to hold back with a head scarf. Plucking a zucchini tempura piece from its container and popping it in her mouth, she went back to the tome she was pouring over when Emil arrived and flipped to the page she had been on. 

“I’ve solved what happened to all the rest. But what happened to him?” She hissed almost under her breath, the blunt end of her pen tapping against a specific portrait of a historic figure depicted in the text.

Inky hair swept over bright eyes, a young man barely in his thirties draped in gilded armor and blue finery. Lord Commander of the Temple Knights of Ishgard during and after the Dragonsong War. Speculated beloved of the Warrior of Light. Aymeric de Borel. 

“I can’t figure out what happened to him after he retired.” Ciri frowned at the portrait of the handsome man. “He was barely thirty-seven, and was in good health, by all accounts. The Borel Manor is still in the family name, even centuries down the line, though none of them are of blood relatives.” She tapped her pen to her bottom lip in thought. “Family trees confirm he adopted his children, though he himself was also an adopted kid, so the Borel bloodline had already died out before he had even retired, in a manner of speaking.”

“But when did he adopt them? Did he have a spouse? And why— and how— in the ever loving fuck did he just vanish from all record?!”

“You keep thinking of him as a historical figure.” Emil noted patiently, setting down his chopsticks and reaching across the table to gently hold her hand. “Think of him as a person. What, considering all of the other people in Ell— the Warrior of Light’s life chose for themselves, what would you think he would want, above all else?”

“...You know something I don’t.” Ciri accused after a moment of scrutiny, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“A rarity, but just this once, yes.” He nodded. “Though for disclosure: I only came about the knowledge tonight.”

“Why not tell me sooner?”

“I wanted you to eat, my dear.”

There was something that struck her as deeply familiar about this moment. The dark brown of his skin was stark against the rolled up sleeves of his pale blue shirt, and yes, he was distractingly handsome all the time, and yes, they had always shared food and conversation before, but this…

Ciri had never been to Ishgard before her academic research. Not once. And yet, it felt as though she had been here, with him, having this conversation before.

It might have been a trick of the light, but for a moment, his eyes were a peculiar kyanite blue.

Odd.

“Have you been down to the Vault’s archives?” At her nod, he smiled wider and pushed away from his seat, hand held out in offering. “Come, let me show you something you might have overlooked.”

“Bold of you to imply I’m not thorough in my work, Emil.” She pursed her lips, even as she accepted.

“I would never— I only mean that you didn’t know to look for this.”

His smile widened when she placed her hand in his. As if she would ever refuse him. As if she ever could.

The toe of her boot caught on the ankle of her opposite foot when she made to stand— ah, new boots, damn it all— and she braced for a fall. Emil, always happy to help, had easily braced and caught her before she had truly fallen, and helped right her on her own feet. 

“Falling for me at last, my dear?” He asked with a dazzling smile.

“Fuck’s sakes, you know I fluster easily.” Ciri sputtered around her blushing, though she did use the excuse of wobbly legs to press close to him for a moment. 

Ahh, they never did talk about what they were after that one college party…

“Come on, I promise it isn’t long— and we’ll be back to finish our food, lest you worry.” 

Hand in hand, Ciri and Emil made their way down, down, down the winding steps of the Congregation, deeper and deeper still into the Vault, past the chapel, beyond the stained glass windows, until they were again wrapped in nothing but lamplight. 

How was this so familiar? How did this feel like they had done this before?

“You’re being silly!” The low alto voice of a woman rang in her mind. Ciri almost tripped on the steps.

“And dramatic, lest you forget, but pray allow me this.” She would have almost swore it was Emil that had spoken, had the dialect not been so old. 

What was happening to her? What was in that Udon?

The Archivist waved them through with barely a glance at their badges— they had become familiar faces at that point— and popped a grape in his mouth distractedly, eyes never leaving the book in his hand. With a word of thanks, they continued on their way.

It was in the darkest corner of the archives, one of the last bookshelves, where Emil finally came to a stop. The hand not holding hers thumbed through the volumes until he found an unmarked tome of deepest black and pulled it from the shelf.

“Look at this.” He said quietly.

Ciri studied the cover a moment with trembling fingers. Unable to contain that strange ache in her chest, that sense of longing and...fear? Bracing herself she opened the book.

It was such a worn thing, it practically fell open all its own. She nearly dropped the thing for how her hands trembled. A thoughtful frown marred her face as she read the title, written in neat penmanship. 

“The Last Will and Testament of Aymeric de Borel?” Ciri whispered. “But...I don’t understand—”

“Read it.” Emil whispered, close enough she could feel his warmth, a welcome, gentle hand at the small of her back. “You will, I promise you.”

Its first entry was, perhaps, its most telling. The last piece of the puzzle. The end of her journey— and the beginning of something so much more personal, as she recalled a life she never lived.

"Today I am married to the love of my life. Today, Aymeric de Borel dies. In his place, Aymeric Arcbane will find a thousand different happily ever afters, both here and on the road, as long as her hand is in mine."

In different handwriting, a cheeky remark of, “A bit of a dramatic exit, given we’re only going on an adventure, but it’ll do.”

“He found them.” Emil said softly. When she looked up at him, his bright eyes bore into hers. “Every one of those happily ever afters. He found them all, every time, with her. This was all he ever wanted.”

Ciri remembered being a full fulm taller, broader in shoulder, lighter in skin that was heavy with scars, and having two different eye colors. She remembered feeling her shoulders pulled down with a weight she herself couldn’t fathom. She remembered fighting, over and over and over again.

For him. For his smile.

Her eyes swimming with tears, Ciri gently closed the book, and with the hand not cradling such a precious treasure to her chest, she reached out to him.

Of course she had already loved him. She always had. Of course he had loved her in kind. He had never stopped.

“That’s alright, then.” She said.

They left the Vault together again, for the first time in six hundred years, laughing just as brightly as they had before.

#ffxivwrite2020 #ffxiv #Aymeric de Borel #Serella Arcbane #original characters #future au #plz do not perceive me I am in my Emotions

[tracingdreams]

Daiya no Ace: The Dramas #14 Personal Data

An explanation… To keep my brain from rusting I started a project to translate the drama tracks that came with the character song CDs and other stuff relating to Daiya no Ace (because I love them and they’re all hilarious). My disclaimer - I am not a native speaker of Japanese, but I will do my best!

Character Song CD 06: Takigawa Chris Yuu Drama Track 02 Featuring Chris, Miyuki, Furuya and Eijun

Scene: Miyuki and Chris are planning for the next game and Chris has summoned Eijun and Furuya to discuss tactics. And…other things. Chris’s notebook is, as ever, omnipotent.

Translator’s Note: What is hilarious about this drama, other than the obvious, is how polite Miyuki is to Chris, and how not polite he is to the pitchers xd. And also Chris’s secret evil, which we all know is there, behind that knowing smile.

Chris: Those who are fast runners are the first and second batters, and also the eighth batter, the catcher – he’s surprisingly quick.

Miyuki: (apparently nodding) Mm. Mm.

Chris: Even though I say they’ve got good legs, they’re not at the same level as Kuramochi or Carlos in terms of speed. So long as you can prevent them from getting a good start, with your shoulder…you should be able to take care of them.

Miyuki: I understand. We’ll use pick offs to put them on their guard about running.

Chris: If it’s the left-handed Sawamura, he might be able to do it just by glaring at them. And then…

(enter noise Eijun and not-noise Furuya)

Eijun: Thank you for your hard work so far! As Shishou has so kindly summoned me, this flawed Sawamura Eijun has now arrived!

Chris: Ah, you’re here, huh? Furuya too.

Furuya: Thank you for your hard work.

Eijun: So, what kind of purpose have you summoned me here for on this occasion, Shishou?

Miyuki: Why are you acting so formal and stiff all of a sudden?

Eijun: Because I was personally summoned here by my Shishou!

Chris: Well, the two of you might as well sit down.

Eijun: YES SIR!

Chris: Tomorrow’s practice game – you guys are going to pitch it between you, right? I thought I’d share the information I’ve gleaned about your opponents with you and with Miyuki.

Furuya: Information about the opposing team..?

Eijun: So that notebook is going to lay our opponents bare…Chris-senpai’s notebook, otherwise known as the schoolteacher’s book of Enma from the Realms of Hell? (Translator’s Note: Enma is a big deal demon type figure in Buddhism. I think Eijun may be doing a stupid play on words here as an enmachou is also some kind of teacher’s markbook.)

Miyuki: They don’t call it that, obviously!

Chris: (still impossibly calm): So, about tomorrow’s practice game…this is an opponent you could meet in proper competition. I don’t think there’s any negative side to getting a good hold on their data.

Eijun: I see. “Well prepared people never have regrets”, huh?

Chris: Well, in modern baseball, having a good level of information provision is one means of attack.

Eijun: So, to fool an enemy, start with fooling an ally??

Miyuki: If you’re going to spout sayings, surely ‘knowing your enemy and knowing yourself means no risk in a hundred battles’ would be better? What the hell are you going to do by deceiving your allies?

Eijun: Ah, you could say that as well! (laughs)

Miyuki: Stop trying to laugh it off as a joke! You just wanted to say something that sounded cool, didn’t you?

Furuya: Really annoying…

Chris: (still utterly calm): This team isn’t the kind to have explosive batting power. They’re the kind that, when a runner gets on base, they’ll use bunts to advance him and then rely on the clean up to bring them home. They have a careful line of attack in that kind of style.

Miyuki: I see (he’s back to being utterly polite again).

Chris: In terms of the lineup, the ace, who also plays as the fourth batter…he’s strong with straight balls, but he also has some sneaky breaking balls with unusual traits.

Miyuki: Sneaky breaking balls, huh. You guys should keep this in mind as well!

Eijun: Yes sir!

Furuya: Understood.

Chris: On another note, this fourth batter, last month he confessed to a female kouhai…but was rejected.

Eijun: And again, to that depth of information?!

Miyuki: I’m always impressed by the level of your data acquisition, Chris-senpai, but where on earth do you get that kind of information from, anyway?

Chris: Heh. I’m not going to so easily reveal my sources.

Eijun: It can’t be…Shishou? Are you sneaking into rival schools and spying on them in order to get this data?

Chris: Don’t say such scandalous things. If you go to a match and watch from the stands, you end up accidentally overhearing bits and pieces of people’s conversations – from the parents or guardians, or the former students especially. So I just keep them in mind for later.

Furuya: What other…kind of information..?

Chris: Well, the second batter – the right fielder – and the third batter, the centre – their parents don’t get along at all. The fifth batter, who plays first, his family run an udon restaurant which apparently has a good reputation in the neighbourhood.

Miyuki: Well, but you know, that kind of information is a bit…

Chris: The sixth batter – who plays second – has the nickname ‘Kuri-Bakudan’. Apparently.

Furuya: Kuri…bakudan?

Chris: His name is Kuriyama, and the ‘bakudan’ apparently comes from the fact his hair always looks like an explosion hit it. (Translator note: bakudan is the Japanese word for a bomb).

Eijun: How is that kind of information going to be useful, though? (He’s suddenly not so formal).

Chris: Eh…Well, you shouldn’t make fun of these tiny fragments of data. A famous catcher of the past, Nomura Katsuya, apparently put off batters at the plate by whispering details of their private lives. (Translator note: I have no idea if that is true. But Nomura was a famous catcher).

Furuya: Kuribakudan…(Translator Note: I am not sure if he is fixating on the silly name or the fact that basically this means Chestnut bomb and Furuya is a bit obsessed at times with random food words)

Miyuki: I don’t use whispering as one of my tactics, though. But I guess I have to learn from that ideal of doing whatever it takes to win.

Chris: Yeah. The opposing team will also be as frantic, after all.

Furuya: Kuri…(Chestnut)…

Chris: To put it from the other perspective, our information is as easily available from people talking carelessly in the stands as well, so we really have to be careful.

Eijun: AHHH!

Chris: What’s up, Sawamura?

Eijun: What if…

Miyuki: Yeah, what if what?

Eijun: I thought for a while now that it was weird how much Kuramochi-senpai kept asking about Wakana…

Miyuki: Huh?!

Eijun: What if…he was going to give that information to an opponent team to make me wobble at the plate?

Miyuki: (Hits Eijun): Are you a complete idiot? What kind of benefit could Kuramochi possibly get from doing that? And more to the point, a more fundamental issue is what kind of team needs information to make you distracted at the plate?

Eijun: But!

Miyuki: If there were things we wouldn’t want them to know, it would be something other than that, wouldn’t it?

Eijun: Erm…like Yuuki-senpai is bad at shougi?

Miyuki: No…something else.

Eijun: Tanba-senpai isn’t bald, but shaved his head?

Miyuki: Even if they looked into that, it wouldn’t matter, would it!?

Chris: Mm. It wouldn’t matter.

Miyuki: Er, Chris-senpai, you don’t need to agree with such a serious expression…

Eijun: Then what kind of information would it be bad for the opposition to get hold of?

Miyuki: Well, things like Furuya lacks stamina, for one thing. Other teams could try the strategy Akikawa used to try and break his tempo – that would be a big problem.

Furuya: Stamina…

Eijun: Ah…I see.

Miyuki: Mind you, that kind of weakness, the more games you play, sooner or later it’ll become obvious. Which means you need to fix it before it gets figured out.

Furuya:….Yes…sir.

Eijun: In that case, Miyuki-senpai, I would also need to fix any weak points before they were found out by a rival team, wouldn’t I?

Miyuki: Huh? Oh, well, yeah, that’s true…

Eijun: In that case, I’ll fix it! My weak point! (Pauses) By the way, what is my weak point?

Miyuki: Huh? Everything, of course. EVERYTHING.

Chris: In Sawamura’s case, there are too many things to work on.

Eijun: Don’t say that!

Miyuki: If I were in charge of the opposing team’s information gathering, I would only need to know one thing about you.

Chris: I see. That’s true.

Eijun: Just one thing? What on earth could be written on my page?

Miyuki: IDIOT of course. You need to first fix BEING AN IDIOT. IDIOT!

Eijun: Waaaah! NO WAYYYYY!

#Daiya no Ace #Ace of Diamond #Takigawa Chris Yuu #Sawamura Eijun #Miyuki Kazuya #Furuya Satoru #Drama CDs #Character Song CD #Drama Translation #Translations #Chris has hidden evils #I want to know who that pitching fourth hitter could be...