feu-ardent

[feu-ardent]

Sandpaper Tongue

Notes : It is my first time doing a commission/request (whichever it is according to my definition), so beware potential wonky text and layout issues. This one-shot was a request for @mekoo-san, whose prompt was, in a nutshell, Munetaku with "Fever, Nursing, Kiss in the neck", so I hope it will be to your taste!

Title : Sandpaper Tongue

Relationship : Munetaku (Shindou Takuto / Ibuki Munemasa)

Summary : It had to happen, of course. Of all time to happen and of all people to go down, it had to be him. 

It had to come up, it was logical. It was common sense, really. Ibuki knew that, Shindou knew that.

Didn’t mean the latter wasn’t going to be insufferable with it, apparently.

OR

Shindou falls sick, as it is the norm when leaving everything your body has known for an unexpected trip in the unknown. Thankfully, Ibuki is there to pick him up.

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Shindou felt hot.

Scratch that, he was sweltering.

His body swayed as if it was baked alive in an oven and, for all that matter, the gamemaker could not put it on the desert map he was currently training in with Ibuki. The zone, used for its movement-restricting ground and lack of overall footing, lacked the heat that would come up with an artificial sun glaring down a barren spread of sand.

Ah, yes. Training. And Ibuki. Can’t forget about that.

But this sluggish torpor, coupled with a faint ringing Shindou identified as a forthcoming headache, was not helping him focus and be at his best. At. All.

Come on, Takuto… Stay focused, keep your eyes on the ball…

“..!”

Don’t trip and slip… Get yourself together, for soccer’s sake!

“...dou..!”

Why was it so hard to aim and kick this darn ball!? By now, even this newcomer team knew the motion by heart and could perform such a simple move sleeping with their arms tied! It came to him as natural as breathing, as it had been the case for years! He should be able to do that while dead and stuck as a spirit!

“Shindou..!”

Mmh..? Huh? What- Was calling him?

“Earth to Shindou! Hey, are you listening!?”

Grounding and stable, the voice pulled him back from his hazing mind. The midfielder lifted his head, tearing his stare away from the ball resting at his feet.

(It was ridiculous. Of course, he needed to keep his eyes on his target, but this was getting ludicrous : his eyes practically bore holes into the floor, as if its mere existence was a great offense to sanity.)

Truthful to his position, Ibuki stood in the goal, with a defying gaze directed toward Shindou, betraying impatience and annoyance at his partner’s unmoving state. Their eyes crossed and locked into each other, a pair waiting for a comeback, and another scrambling to respond.

A few moments had passed before the glove-wearer sighed and left the net he was defending. The one with eyes of lavender, plum and rose thorns might not be the brightest star in the wide void, but he knew his companion with hair of earthly soil was lightyears away from his usual quick-witted shrewdness.

“Let’s take a break.” The taller human drawled as he strolled towards a box resting close, hands in his pocket in an act of provocation. His tone left no room for takeback, and an average teammate would struggle to oppose his decision.

However, Shindou was no ordinary partner, even in his dizzy state.

Though, as unordinary a teammate as Shindou was, his state still left him hazy and lightheaded.

“What… are you doing?” The one with irises of beechwood frowned at the one dressed in forest leaves, expressing both discontent and confusion. Sure, a break was never time wasted, but to decide on one without consulting his partner was uncouth.

And yet, the curl-haver dragged his feet toward the resting place. As rough and graceless as the headband-wearer was, he was far from dim, and his fire sheltered clumsy care mixed with an ardent desire to prove himself fundamental to the team.

Whatever his reasons, they could not be mindless.

“Hydrating myself,” was Ibuki’s sole answer. The chalk-haired paid no mind to the disgruntled pout drilled on his back, instead shuffling with the latch and clicking the box open. “Come, take some water. Moisturize yourself or something.” The claps release in a soft snap, revealing an array of bottles, enough to quench the thirst of half a dozen individuals.

Why Ibuki brought so many with him was a mystery…

“...y...”

Moreso that, every so often, he would make it a contest, as if lugging several pounds of water would prove his superior strength and constitution…

“...empty...”

Just as an example, Shindou had to carry it today. Not that it was that heavy, but the hustle was still there.

“...come on…”

Sure, hydration is important…

“... again!?”

But no one would be expected to drink that much in a single training session.

“Tsk… For Gurdon’s sake, is that a-”

*PLONK!* *CLACK!* *CRASH!* “YEOWCH!”

“H-huh?” What was that?

“Argh…” Wait, that sound… “Ibuki, are you hurt?”

Constantly spacing out was already bad as it was. However, if the lack of attention led him to miss on teammates’ injuries, then it was not only a bother, but a genuine concern.

Said companion was nursing his hand through his glove, hissing over his knuckles with a mix of frustration, irritation and embarrassment.

This scene was the only cue the two humans needed to devolve into one of their signature banter, with each repost more heated and cockier than the last.

“What have your lumbering manners done again, you oaf?”

“It’s nothing. My hand slipped and the lid dropped on me. ‘Got surprised, that’s all.”

“How are you even our goalkeeper, let alone a basketball player, astounds me. Let me see.”

“‘Ts nothing, I told you.”

“I don’t care. Show me your hand.”

Pink lines dotted Ibuki’s base knuckles, no brighter than ones gained from scratching an itch.

Really, it was nothing to fret about.

“Ha, you worried about me? It’s just a plastic box, not as if I got attacked by an angry coop of chickens.”

“If I truly was concerned for your safety, you wouldn’t even be in space. If anything, I fear your already second-rate performance will worsen and impede our victory.” (Especially since his contribution was so, so vital, supporting the play from afar without even partaking in the brawl. A pillar for the team and its trust.)

“Then swap me with Shinsuke. You have the perfect opportunity to do it.”

“We are not putting this burden on Shinsuke’s shoulders just because of your butterfingers and appalling gracelessness.”

“If I’ve got butter for hands and no grace, then how about heating them up and re-shaping them nice and handsome? What do you say, Mr Music? You and your genius fingers should know how to carve a pretty hand, shouldn't you?”

The taunt took Shindou’s composure away like a bomb. The musician felt heat spreading, taking over his face, from his nose to his ears, and felt his brain click and his teeth clench in anger, thrill and bliss.

Eyes awash in amusement and abandon, skin aflame with mirth and fever, mind filled with ecstasy and frenzy, the wavy-locked bit his cheek hard, only for a chuckle and a bark to escape.

His thumbs kneaded the creases and folds on Ibuki’s hand, spreading his fingers and treading his palm.

“I’d mold them into shovels. It would be better to catch shots.”

“Not even buckets or baseball gloves? Feels like a downgrade.”

“Your massive frame would be even more cumbersome with limbs like that.”

“Ho? And why not long and swift fingers like yours? Tell me, wouldn’t I look good with pianist hands?”

“What use would delicate fingers be to you? You are the very picture of gaucheness.”

“Dunno, make me more like you, since I’m a big burly nuisance? Hehehe, how about transforming myself into another Shindou?”

“The gap would be uncanny. You would terrify all those you would come across. Stay the hulking brawn-brained you are, it is for the best.”

“Haha, right. ‘Cause we don’t need a half-baked idiot like me to lose my muscles, huh? That’s my only saving grace.”

“Maybe so, but even if you knew how to make use of daintier hands, I would fail to see the appeal.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m already here, and I won’t leave. Not as long as you need crafty hands to compensate for your gorilla limbs.”

Silence fell, neither awkward nor relaxing. Rubbing knuckles and peaceful discussions did not help clear out the fog plaguing Shindou’s thoughts, but it made its presence bearable. Worries not dissipated, but drowned in the mist of small talk.

“Yeah, yeah, thank you… You know, you ain’t wrong. At least, my brute hands can tank a heavy lid without big harm.”

“Did you really drop the lid on yourself? If you were more careful, it wouldn’t even fall in the first place.”

“It slipped, I told you! I was busy looking at the bottles…”

“And why that?”

The taller boy stood up, his untaken hand seeking support and finding a brace in his knee. Slow and lazy, the motion made the two teenagers’ hands slide and separate.

“They’re all empty,” Ibuki grunted as he dusted the virtual sand hanging on the fabric of his pants. At this statement, Shindou raised his eyebrows, confused and quizzical. “Is that so?”

A shrug and a suspicious gaze turned toward him. “Yeah. You took the box. Didn’t you notice?”

The weight seemed no different than usual, as far as the gamemaker recalled. Was he that tired to miss a clue as obvious? “It is unlikely. We must have drunk them a while ago…” Yes, that must be-

“Bullcrap.”

A shadow loomed over the sitting form, overpowering any light from the simulation and shielding the tactician from the glare of the artificial rays.

Now that he was standing, the goalkeeper glowering from a meter above him looked more ominous than he had the habit of witnessing. His amethyst eyes shone and burned with blatant anger and vexation.

“I haven’t seen you pick a single one.” The frown intensified, morphing into a furious scowl. “We’ve been here for Captain-knows-how-long and I haven’t seen a single bottle touch your lips. Not. Even. Once.” To emphasize his argument, Ibuki jabbed a finger in Shindou’s overall direction, the vagueness and fake disinterest barely masking the rage roaring from his throat.

The brown-eyed knew the long-armed teen saw through his lie. Through the multiple shared breaks, Shindou did grab a bottle, entertaining the idea of drinking, but the simple act of gulping made his throat tighten like a bird constricted by a snake made of razor blades.

Consequently, he never went past unscrewing the cap and glaring at the water container as if the contact would transfer the liquid into his system.

A surrendering grumble cut the dispute short. “Well, won’t change the fact we don’t have water,” the case slung over Ibuki’s shoulder before he headed to the exit, “I’ll go refill the bottles.” The teen paused, before leaving. “Be back soon.”

And he left the illusion in a flurry of pixels.

So Shindou was alone, waiting for Ibuki to come back…

What do you mean, merely “waiting”? Like heck I will wait! I shall train!

And so he trained.

Or at least he tried.

Getting back on his feet was already a trial. Shooting himself upward afflicted him with excruciating vertigo, so severe it nearly sent him to bite the dust.

Getting his legs to move was an ordeal greater than it should ever be. Each twitch was preceded and followed by overwhelming nausea and searing cold racking his frame.

Yet, he persisted.

Painstakingly gathering himself together, digging clawing and scrambling out of the blankness of his mind, pulling his eyes from the void to the scenery, he willed a soccer ball and started a few rounds of shots, dribbles and strategizing. 

His entire body weighed him down, getting heavier and heavier. It pulled him, sinking into the ground, chaining him in restraints.

But he kept on walking.

But he kept on dragging his feet forward..

But he kept on shuffling his thoughts onward...

But he kept on-

But he kept-

He kept

Bringing his body down the drain.

So his own flesh, fed up, responded in a manner that was understandable without language or complexity.

It shut down, cut the strings and turned off the fuel.

*PLAF!*

Any determination that held his bones and muscles upright like tape and staples gave up in a split second, with an unheard snap and a stifled cry as the structure crumbled into a shapeless heap, limp and unmoving as a severed doll surrendered to the rain.

The collapsed man ignored how much time passed since his fall.

He couldn’t count or measure. Think or elaborate. He was floating in an abyss of ringing quakes, trapped in shivering buzz and-

“SHINDOU!”

There were three things Shindou got from that sound.

One, Ibuki had returned.

Two, his shout actually pierced the darkness engulfing him, wrenching open a breach with light pouring in like rapids.

Three…

Holy shit, it hurts.

The scream sounded less like a scream and more like a maw of iron nails screeching miles and miles across slate tiles, howling and shrieking and shrilling its sole purpose : to crack skulls and make spirits decay and melt under its gouging claws and-

He didn’t have enough words to describe it.

It.

Was.

Horrible.

A burning hiss echoed in his skull and, only after his gritting teeth screeched alongside, did he realize the sound was torn out his own throat.

Fortunately, his downed mind did not have time to wallow in suffering as it felt threads fluttering near and his physical form lifted from the ground. Strong limbs snaked around his back and legs, carrying him with more care than he could hope from the one this gesture originated from.

It felt nice. Safe, calming, serene-

Am I being carried like a baby?

Never mind his ill mind, this was mortifying.

“What. Are you. Doing?” A feverish breath seethed, part from shame, part from pain, part from anger and part from relief.

“You’re sick.” The muttered reply was not a question, but a plain fact, delivered with a tone as neutral as Ibuki’s running thoughts would muster. “I’m not.” Shindou snapped back. Tired, he might be, but ailing? Not a chance.

“You’re burning hotter than the lava in Gurdon, you haven’t opened your eyes ever since I came back and you’re heaving in and out like a smoker who got his head dunked into a chimney.” The black and green-clad enumerated flatly, as quietly as possible yet too fast for the other to retort. At the frustrated denial and moody huffs coming from his arms, he sighed and made his way to the exit for a second time. “For all your speeches about me being an idiot with a head full of rocks, you’re no better than I am.”

The shorter player burrowed his head in the thick, elastic fabric, too exhausted to keep on barking. “Shut it…”

“‘Kay.” Both were sensible enough to stop arguing when needed.

“And let go of me…”

Well, not on all fronts.

“Are you kidding me? I found you dead on the sand and you think you can manage by yourself?” The carrier scoffed without budging. “I bet my apology that you can’t stand, let alone walk by yourself.”

But the carried was unrepentant. “Let. Me. Go!” He ordered. “Just try, you dumbbutt!” Jabbed Ibuki, more as a knee-jerk reaction than thought-out reflection.

That fling was the only cue. Shindou needed not be asked twice and started wiggling himself out of Ibuki’s grasp. Said grasper soon came to be aware of the consequences of his words.

“Gah-! Okay, okay, I was joking! Can you stop flailing around like that!?” Panic took over the goalkeeper, who grumbled at his mistake. “Listen! The more difficult you’re making this for me- for us, the longer we’ll be stuck like this-” The white-haired teen stumbled out of the Black Room, heading to their rooms while attempting to grapple with the weight in his arms. A rambunctious duo, to say the least. “So-! Either you calm down and we get that done in minutes- whoa- or you keep acting like I’m- ouch- about to eat you and- hey- we embarrass ourselves in the hallway and in front of the team- ugh- do you want that-!?”

Under the absolute logic he was struck with and the headache he was worsening, the sick man finally relented, letting himself go limp against Ibuki’s chest. The latter, unwilling to restart another round of kicks and grabs, tightened his grip around the midfielder’s waist, balancing him until his full weight rested on him.

This.

This is vexing, really.

Now that the rush died down, all the leftover energy from his outburst dwindled until Shindou was left unable to move, overcome by shiver and sweat. He had felt under the weather for days, but it never got this bad. Anytime someone noticed, he would wave it down and pin the blame on a restless night.

Swallowing his pride was hard but he had to accept the truth : he was bested.

And even worse…

He would sooner jump into a pool of magma than admit it, but Ibuki was so comfortable it was almost criminal. Against his own will, his treacherous body nuzzled closer, curling like a small animal would seek the warmth of a sun-spotted corner.

I want to stay here. He’s warm and snug.

“Rare for you to be so nice. Though, I’d prefer anything but warm and snug, so maybe that’s an insult actually.” An absent-minded voice came into light, though the tone showed that the basketball player was muttering to himself, unaware that the earth-eyed was still cognizant enough to listen. The former mumbled, a deep pout into his voice and face, though Shindou was unable to see it. “Warm and snug, really? Couldn’t it be something like strong and muscular and cool?”

What Ibuki would not miss, however, was the harsh flinch, followed by a tremor erupting from the depth of Shindou’s core.

“You ok? Is that the fever? Are you cold?”

Deaf to the questions, the musician could practically feel steam emanating from his skin, billowing above like a taunt.

This is the end. Kill me. End your job, wretched illness.

Unfortunately, the long-awaited finishing blow never came, and Shindou had to live with the knowledge that Ibuki heard that and that no, denying will bear no result, own it because there is no other choice.

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

Finally (finally!), the pair reached Shindou’s room. In a series of swift, well-practiced moves, a foot unlocked the door, slid it open, closed it down, led the two toward the bed and plopped both onto the mattress.

A sigh wrenched itself out of the depth of Ibuki’s trachea, his taut muscles finally relaxing against the bedding. “You’re the worst… You know that? Making me carry you like that…”

A weak, weak groan answered his monologue. Seemed like the sick boy wasn’t out cold yet. “I never asked…”

“Oh, do you hear that!” The goalkeeper jolted, instantly regretting as Shindou winced under him. He lowered his voice and shifted to let the midfielder fall on his bed, but the gamemaker’s fists quickly found their way to his uniform, fingers bundling and gripping the threads. “You never asked,” a smug grin lazily crept below lavender eyes as it parroted the last sentence, “Sure, and who’s clinging to me like a koala?”

A trembling head found its way into the crook of a tanned neck, hiding both face and voice and directing them to the wall behind. “I’m… cold…” The earth-haired choked out, contrasting with the sweltering heat muddling his face.

“Geez,” a gloved hand burrowed itself in the messy clay mane and slowly began to stroke through the locks, “you’re like a cat.”

Shindou instantly stiffened when Ibuki’s fingers found their way into his hair, a full-body shiver rippling through his muscles at the contact. The goalkeeper froze at the motion, wondering if he had gone too far and overstepped his boundaries. His hand hastily removed itself, awkwardly hanging near yet never resting anywhere.

Stiff muscles slowly relaxed, and breathing deepened, gradually morphing into an even, shaky cycle of inhales and exhales.

“You owe me,” Ibuki swore under his breath at no one but himself, though the thought was directed at both him and the other boy. Gazing at the ceiling, he dared not raise his voice for fear of shattering the fragile truce. “If I ever fall sick, you owe me so much.”

A ruffle broke the stillness.

“Idiots… don’t fall sick…” mumbled a bleary voice, so quiet Ibuki was unsure whether Shindou was still awake or asleep. The increased breathing and tightening grip around his chest soon answered his wondering.

A shift on the right. “You woke up?” A shuffle to the left. “You stopped…” A hand near the shoulder. “Stopped what?” A leg over another. “The hand…” A back to the wall. “Ah. Sorry for that.” Two feet dangling on the edge. “...stop.”

A blushing face. “I stopped, I stopped!” And a bashful look. “Shouldn’t have tried, anyway.”

“No.” A meek whisper. “... don’t stop.” An emotion-laden breath. “Want me to start again?”

They both sensed Shindou’s struggle for control, the teen straining to move or even free himself from his locked posture. And yet, his raspy voice communicated desire. “No… I’ll be up… soon…”

A hard (or as hard as his body could take) tap on his skull jostled the gamemaker’s train of thought. A hand covered in thick latex quickly found its way near the area it struck, supporting the head and preventing it from slipping away. “No way. Call me dumb all you want, but you’re not leaving this bed, even if I have to wrestle you in the mattress.”

“Tell that to your hand…” The illness did wonder picking mental walls apart, leaving the delicate musician grasping at straws, scrambling at any cues to salvage his flickering pride.

“Again with my hand?” Ibuki bristled, “You know what? If you worry over my hand so much, then… here!” Shoving his palm into Shindou’s own, he forcefully intertwined their fingers and locked the digits together in a fierce grip. “Keep it, nurse it back or whatever.” The goalkeeper sputtered once his actions registered to his brain. “Do that and we’re even but- just-” His annoyed front dropped, revealing worry and exhaustion. He was too tired to care. “Stay and get some rest, stupid strategist. We need you.”

A blanket went to cover them both, the taller one leaning on the wall so he could support the smaller one curled up and shaking. “Wait a minute.” Ibuki carefully let go of Shindou’s head, eliciting a whine and a semblance of struggle. The loss was short-lived, however, after the goalkeeper took their shoes off and removed his dusty gloves, unveiling warm and sweaty hands which quickly returned to their spots. The freed fingers combed through equally sweaty locks, massaging the scalp and sensing the strain recede.

Peacefully slotted, the holder closed his eyes, letting his breath overlap with the one tickling his nape.

Just a minute or two…

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Shindou woke up to snoring.

The rattle was not loud per se, though noisy enough to be the first noticeable sound he picked up when emerging out of slumber.

His first attempt at stretching lit up his brain and made him take on the posture he was currently in. Bent legs stuck by another poking out underneath, back curled up and sagging, only supported by a hand up his nape, arms tangled around a firm hand and a head burrowed into the curve of a collar, forehead kissing the bottom of a chin.

Trying to escape the hold sparkled more awareness of the earlier events. Of past dialogues and previous acts.

Right, he fainted.

Right, he was sick.

Right, Ibuki carried him to his room.

Right, he clung to him for dear life.

Right, they…

Wait.

Did he… stay with him ever since they got to bed?

The pianist craned his neck, carefully ungluing his cheek from the neck whose warmth it leeched, to glimpse at a peaceful sleeping face, with a head lolling backwards and hair brushing the wall.

He was going to have one hell of a sore neck, Shindou thought. The gamemaker could already imagine the painful crack his spine would create at the slightest tweak.

Yet, despite the uncomfortable position, the keeper’s hand remained locked to his wrist tighter than a vice, rough, callous skin staying steadfast and unyielding. The edges of his knuckles were pale, still bearing the reddish lines of his injury.

A good-natured chuckle escaped him before he knew. “You’re such a stubborn mule,” His eyes shone with laughter, a fond curve twitching his lips in two. “Staying like that and making sure I’m not leaving. Would it hurt you to trust me?”

Feelings concealed are never invisible, kept inside but not buried, and ignorance fails to deny. The rhythm weaver was not blind to his own emotions, and the web of thunder coursing through his system, tingling and tickling, supplied flushed red and denied affection.

“Mhhhh…”

Oh, a faint thought followed his comment, he’s waking up.

A series of cracks and pops followed through each of Ibuki’s moves. He yawned, tears pooling in the corner of his eyes, but his body remained still, stuck in the same embrace Shindou bemoaned before.

A few blinks later, and a pair of bleary amethyst orbs peered over his face, squinted and unfocused.

“Shindou…” He slurred, not fully alert yet. “You’re..?”

“Feeling better already.” 

He loved him, that he knew.

He was besotted, that was true.

He was enamored, through and through.

“Good…” The white-haired staggered, dozing on and off. It was pretty warm and snug here, he wouldn’t mind staying there a while longer… “You better get better… C’mon, let’s keep some more-”

Chapped lips met a tan neck. Shindou savored the taste without haste.

“Thank you, Ibuki.”

Awareness was slowly creeping to the guardian, though not fast enough to fully register the event. “What..?”

He did not need to, as the field tactician cut him. “Stay here, I’ll come back soon.”

A ghost peck on his chin and a grazing brush of his collarbone, and a precise maneuver later, Shindou’s feet once again stood on solid ground. He hovered above Ibuki’s stumbling figure, adjusting the fallen duvet to cover the now-empty spot. Then, the musician shuffled off before all the tall boy’s cognitive functions returned and, the former supposed, he would start a ruckus.

The door slid and hit the edge with a sharp clatter, then drowsy legs trudged toward the common room, sluggish and (to the gamemaker’s own opinion) unbecoming of one of his station, but miles better than the miserable crawling which first befell him.

He should get something for Ibuki, a passing thought nagged him as he dragged his feet across the hallway, preparing himself to face their teammates. If he recalled well, the man was not fond of sweets for breakfast, though he would never shy away from them afterwards.

“I’ll ask for two bowls of rice with beef, then.”

Shindou felt warm.

“I’ll get some tea, too.”

[feu-ardent]

Really ! Then I will be gladly to comms you :D don’t worry cause I love your writing style so that why I would like to comms you ^^ I would comms for munetaku if you don’t mind and sorry again for any inconvenience

Do you have a them or prompt you'd rather have? Or any specific request regarding the format or length?

If that's the case (or not), feel free to develop on your commissions or contact me with private messages! Else, I'll see what I can do and attempt to give an estimate for how long I'll take to deliver it!

[feu-ardent]

I'm quite literally a year late to do this but I've been rereading Effective Communication and the last arc's comments urged me to go on and make this

please forgive me for this 😭

ASDFGTYUK-

You know what, this is, like, far from wrong. It’s, actually and unfortunately, kind of right. 

I’ve been witnessing my neurons concatenating words together to make sentences and instead of coloring the page a fun yellow, they dunked salty water blue dye all over the desk and left it to dry overnight.

I can’t remove the paint anymore hahaha-

Or, in meme format (because pictures call for pictures) : 

[feu-ardent]

Thank you for writing 💖I enjoy your fics soo much so did you open comms for fic ?!

Oh, thank you for your kind ask! Glad to see people still remember my works even though I've left the board newsless for almost a year asdfghj-

It's actually the first ask I've ever received, so that's a kind of milestone in my public Internet roaming!

As for your question : to be frank, I don't think I have the right level to take commissions and write something that would be worth some sort of compensation, so I never considered it.

But! Given that I do want to drag myself out of the soupy swamp that is my writer's block, I'd be willing to consider taking requests and commissions!

However, if it's a commission about one of my existing works, like Effective Communication, I fear I'll be reluctant to change whatever plans I could have (if I do have some), so I guess I won't take them, in that case.

Summary of my block of text : Why not? As long as it doesn't imply changing something I already posted on Ao3.

[feu-ardent]

Thank you for the absolutely gorgeous fanart!

I can't believe this ragtag bunch of teenagers are trying to hold a study session to save Mr Bear from failing his last year of junior high. This is heading toward an explosive result with an energy that cannot be denied.

Hey hey @feu-ardent ! I'm your Secret Santa this year! I hope you are having great holidays, and at the time I'm posting this, a very very happy new year!! I almost never draw the members of the Earth Eleven, so it has been fun.

I tried to more or less follow the prompts, this is meant to be a photo taken by Minori in the library while they are trying to help Kusaka with his math homework 💚

Thank you @ina11secretsakka2022 for hosting this!!

[feu-ardent]

And for the final offering on my scroll, I bid my giftee @confettibrain the best I can hope for them!

To this ending, I shall display one last scene of new creation between a log roller and a field sprinter!

Let's send the jovial revelry away and celebrate this end of year together with @ina11secretsakka2022 (and 2023)!

[feu-ardent]

Second-to-last present for giftee @confettibrain! We're almost done with this Advent-like calendar!

Ponds, sea, beach, ocean... Places and places to fish by and plenty of friends and more to feast with! At least, that's what a favourite falcon sprinter would say.

Let's preserve the cheerful mirth of @ina11secretsakka2022 (and 2023)!

[feu-ardent]

Keeping up the rhythm with the fourth member of the series, dear giftee @confettibrain!

As an exercice I am not unfamiliar with, I offer to you grins and laughs with homemade picture from a big-handed mammoth and a dainty photographer!

Let's contribute once again to the merry mood of @ina11secretsakka2022 (and 2023)!

[feu-ardent]

Third story of the batch, giftee @confettibrain! Let's consider it a week-long advent calendar asdfghj.

With the stars above and Christmas lightning up the street, I'll follow the trend with protagonists and their caretaker!

Let's extend the festive joy of @ina11secretsakka2022 (and 2023) together!

[feu-ardent]

Giftee @confettibrain, here is the second (belated) part of your present!

Today, if the weather disagrees with you, I aspire to trace a riveting picture of rain, ground, space and snow!

Let's enjoy the jolly exchanges of @ina11secretsakka2022 (and 2023) !

[feu-ardent]

Esteemed Tumblr users and esteemed giftee @confettibrain, Merry Christmas and here comes the gift !

I have a couple of one-shots for you, and will (desperately try to) post one every two days or so until they all proudly figure in this collection. Today is for a story of snow, dragon and colours!

Let's all bask in the merry atmosphere of @ina11secretsakka2022 (and 2023) !

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I don't know if it's a good meme or not but it wouldn't leave my head after reading the Baku Gaidenshuu manga.

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I think this low-quality Gif took me an hour and a half to make.

Please, feel free to use it so everyone can get their time's worth out of it.

Edit from me and my sibling below :

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How the fandom sees the OG and the GO characters :

Accurately with deep character analysis and well-thought interactions.

How I imagine the OG and the GO casts :

Aki, pointing at a whiteboard with "playing soccer" written on it : There's one thing better than soccer...

Endou, ripping a piece of paper to reveal the full "Kids playing soccer" sentence : Boom.

The OG cast : KIDS!

Endou and Aki : Yeah!

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I don't know if it's me but-

From time to time I wander on the wikia jumping from a page to another and, when I stumbled on the Inazuma Best Eleven one, it just hit me that the team is more or less made of two halves following the same pattern, which is :

Optimistic captain protagonist carrying the team's spirit or morals, depending on the situation (Endou and Tenma)

A-bit-aloof-but-soft-nonetheless ace striker with sibling-related backstory (Gouenji and Tsurugi)

Midfielder gamemaker who just wants things to go his way, which most of the time don't (Kidou and Shindou)

Pretty defender and captain's closest friend doing their utmost best with their character arc (Kazemaru and Kirino)

Time at best is a construct and I have a hammer to smash it and go help friends and family (Kanon and Kinako)

At some point reached the non-100%-organic-human-anymore state (Aphrodi and Shuu)

The mom friend and medic without whom everyone would be dead or missing two limbs and a vital organ (Aki and Aoi)

My square brain and my train of thought are up for stupid shenanigans it seems.

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Uuuuh, I don't know if it is me or if I cannot see my post in the #inazuma eleven tag so I'm trying with a reblog to see if it gets better.

Sorry of it happens to double my post in your dash !

It's my first Tumblr post and I'm not sure how everything works but here I go !

Happy Christmas to all of you and especially my giftee @c7arisse ! Here is your gift, I hope you'll like it !

Let's all bask in the merry atmosphere of @ina11secretsakka2022 !

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Me at you right now.

Thank you so much for this wondrous gift! The soft color palette and the shading are slvnklbdhdebhjdofsgmjdfnlbnlbv me like and enjoy a lot-

@feu-ardent, SURPRISE!I'm your Secret Sakka!

I took advantage of the hug prompt and made Tenma do a little surprise hug at Tsurugi! I hope you like it and have a nice Christmas!!! ^0^

Thanks to @ina11secretsakka2022 for hosting this event!