#This makes me think about how i misheard that he called the small bananas i picked oht cute... Then found out

[mrfoox]

Oliver keeps laughing at things I share and im 😭 please.... Why.... Im insecure, you need to tell me excatly why you're laughing or I'm freaking out

Me: uh, I have a limit of talking to people after 9pm if I need to go anywhere the next day.

Oliver:???? Why??? Lol, why does it matter??

Me: b... Because I need two hours to calm down after talking with someone so I can fall asleep?

Oliver: w... What why?

Me: idk bc I'm... Excited? I like talking with people i like so I need to lay and go through all we have talk about before I can sleep?

Oliver: -chuckling-so you... Youre saying you get so excited about talking with Fabian you-

Me: NO! Its that way about everyone I talk with! I can't fall asleep right after speaking, I need time to calm down

Oliver: -barely containing laughter-o... Okay that's... That's nice/sweet

[justleaf]

Summary

Roche and Iorveth go on a date with Geralt as their chaperone (not the hat).

Content Background

This one is especially painful to yeet because it was already completed, together with 50% of the next chapter that was the smutty bits. It was finished right about the time I posted Chapter 5 and would have fit in as Chapter 11, but it just didn't make sense with all the additional plot points I'd shoved in.

I've redacted the parts that could potentially get my tumblr banned btw please donut laugh when you see it.

Original Fic

It Took Years

Length

2,300 words

_____________

“Geralt, remember when I released you from prison and saved you from the Nilfgaardians a year ago?”

The white wolf raised his eyebrows in surprise. Roche had never called in a favour for him, and he could tell that Geralt knew it was going to be quite significant. He had thought about it too many times and despite the embarrassment and possibly never being able to look the witcher in the eye, he simply had no other choice.

“Look, I just need you to help Iorveth and I create an alibi.”

“... Uh-huh?”

“We have a meeting with Dijkstra in Novigrad in a week's time, and I plan to…” he swallowed hard when the words became momentarily stuck in his throat. It took another second for him to gather his courage to speak, and the slight tremble in his voice was immediately noticeable.

“I plan to spend the night with Iorveth in one of the inns the night before. But we need someone to cover us.”

The white wolf seemed to grow even paler and his lips pressed together in contemplation.

“You know that I have enhanced senses.”

“I know, but I need to make sure that no one catches us. Not the Scoia'tael, Blue Stripes, Dijkstra’s spies, Redanian spies, any Nilfgaardian-”

“Alright, alright, I get it. You just need to make sure that everyone thinks that I invited you two for a drink and make sure that no one is listening in.”

“I know I’m asking a lot of you, but you’re the only one I can trust in this situation. I haven’t… Iorveth and I don’t have any other opportunities. I can’t even hold his hand without worrying that someone is watching.”

Geralt stared blankly at him and Roche’s heart began to pump harder. His worry must have shown on his face, for the witcher immediately sighed and shook his head.

“Come to the Chameleon. I’ll get you guys a suite. With a wall to separate the living area and the bedroom.”

Roche looked up at him and down a few times, wondering first if Geralt had misspoke, and then if he had misheard. When the witcher said nothing and shrugged, Roche finally accepted it with a nod.

“Thanks, Geralt. Drinks are on me,” he muttered and hung his head a little. Embarrassment was beginning to burn his cheeks.

“Don’t mention it. I’ll see you soon.”

<center>_________________________</center>

“Why are we here so early when Geralt only wanted to see us after sundown,” Iorveth whispered as they passed the guards that almost ripped their papers in half. Roche had smooth-talked his way in and Iorveth was impressed, even though he didn't let it show.

They had set aside their armour and entered the city dressed as merchants: Roche in a nondescript outfit that let him blend in with the rest of the nobles, and Iorveth draped in a cloak that obscured his elven features.

The sun was nowhere near setting when they arrived in the city. Roche had intended to take him on a date around the city, but didn’t want to admit it.

“I didn’t want to disappoint Geralt by being late.”

“Gwynbleidd would have understood.”

“Well, since we’re already here, we might as well explore the city. I heard of a tavern along the docks with an elven cook. Would you like to go there?”

The mention of food changed Iorveth’s expression immediately and Roche suppressed his laughter.

They dined at the Golden Sturgeon, where Iorveth immediately received preferential treatment from a redhead with freckles (it's Bea btw). She made sure to seat them in a relatively hidden corner and Roche could see the elf progressively relax as his shoulders began to sag. He even spotted the hints of a smile dancing on his lips when she put some strange fish dish in front of him.

Just when Roche thought that Iorveth was incapable of enjoying himself even more, he became increasingly pliant when they sat down at the Chameleon for a pint while a band played in the background. Roche didn't understand the first thing about music, but his two mugs of ale were enough to get him to keep his reservations.

Besides, he had something really cute to look at.

The elf's cloak was finally down and he could see the tips of his pointed ears twitch with every beat of the drum. He thought about how nice it would have been to pin him down to the bed and toy with his ears. His eyes trailed across the elf’s neck. If they didn’t have anywhere to be tomorrow, he would have left bite marks across that smooth skin.

<em>Mine,</em> he thought, and he wanted the world to know once all this was over.

“You play the recorder don’t you,” Roche asked out of the blue. Their eyes met and Iorveth was slightly startled by the intensity of his gaze, but he didn’t back down.

“Yeah. There’s been too much going on recently and I haven’t had the chance to though.”

“You can practice with mine tonight.”

“Vernon,” Iorveth warned with a glare, and then quickly glanced around the room to see if anyone was within earshot. There wasn’t, but the tension in his body didn’t leave.

“I could polish yours all night too, you know.”

The elf flinched and could see the pink develop along the tops of Iorveth’s high cheekbones and the tips of his ear. Past his flustered expression however, there was a particular heat blossoming in his eyes. Roche didn’t let up, his curiosity driving him to see just how much he could take it.

“My carrying case is a bit small, but I’m sure yours will fit in with a bit of a shove."

This time, Iorveth couldn't resist the urge to push back. Dandelion's tavern was filled with his regulars who were deep in their own conversations, and they were just talking about music, right?

"So you admit that my instrument is bigger."

"Well the quality of the instrument doesn't matter if the musician has no idea how to handle it."

"I think we've proven that I'm the better player though."

"Our last few encounters haven't exactly been skewed in my favour and I still managed."

"There is no fairness in music and in battle. You should know this, <em>Commander</em>."

The way Iorveth said the word made his mouth go dry.

Now <em>that</em> was truly unfair, and his [banana] agreed. He was seconds away from tugging Iorveth upstairs when the doors swung open and in stepped the white wolf.

"Geralt!" he called out and waved a hand.

"Nice to see you both. I hope you didn't wait long."

The witcher took a few steps towards them, sniffed the air and wrinkled his nose. He had this resigned look about him and Roche immediately knew that he could smell their arousal.

"Let's drink in my room," Geralt suggested and grabbed four mugs of ale from a passing waitress. She protested at first, but nodded and flashed him a huge smile when she saw who he was.

They headed up the stairs and Roche had to try very hard not to openly stare at Iorveth's ass. It [eggplant] and he had no choice but to stare ruefully at the ground.

As soon as he saw that the second floor was empty, he reached out and pinched the elf's behind. Iorveth jumped at the touch and almost spilled his own mug of ale, and Roche was treated to one of those embarrassed glares. They quietly ascended another flight of stairs and neared the room, and Roche could feel his heart race and his breathing grow ragged.

Finally, after two weeks of planning and trying to fit all the pieces together, it was happening. It had been a year since Dol Blathanna and months since they started seeing each other, and Roche was raring to go.

Geralt opened the door to a suite on the top floor that was exactly as he described: a small living area with a table for four and a few sparse furnishings, though it was far more comfortable than the arrangements he was used to. Partitioned off by a wall and door was a bedroom mostly occupied by a sizable bed and more pillows than he could count. A decision made by the bard, no doubt.

As soon as the door closed behind them and they set down their mugs, Roche grabbed Iorveth’s collar and shoved him towards the bedroom. The elf looked mortified and nearly lost his footing, but he recovered within the span of a few steps. He grabbed Roche’s arms and plucked them off him, then tried to shove him backwards but Roche held his ground.

“What the fuck, Roche?!”

Roche took a step back and considered Iorveth’s anger. The elf's gaze had grown sharp and alert, but he was mostly just shocked at the audacity of his actions. He just flashed him a devious smile and was returned a twitch of confusion.

“What? Didn’t you always like roughhousing me on the forest floor?”

“Not in front of Gwyn-”

Roche barely gave Iorveth a chance to answer. He charged forward, wrapped an arm around the elf’s waist, and threw him straight into bed. Iorveth went flying into the mattress with a groan and Roche climbed straight into his lap. Heavy footsteps thudded behind them and stopped by the door.

“Oil’s on the nightstand. Don’t get the sheets dirty and take your shoes off before you get in bed dammit. I can’t afford to pay for new sheets too.”

“Gwynbleidd, what is the meaning of this.”

“Just a little gift from me to the both of you. Have fun, Iorveth. Just try not to make too much noise.”

The door behind them closed and Iorveth just stared blankly at Roche, who was already taking off his top. No words came out of the elf’s gaping mouth, so Roche blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

“Enjoying the date so far?”

“Explain yourself Roche, I’m not-”

The elf had to pause when Roche began grinding in his lap. It worked until it didn't, and Iorveth grabbed onto his hips to still them. Roche just wanted to get to the fucking already, but the elf refused to be distracted no matter how much he tried.

“Did you plan all this? Coming to my camp to pick me up. Picking flowers for me along the path. Bringing me to the tavern for dinner. Having drinks. This fake meeting with Gwynbleidd.”

“Of course. When else was I going to get the opportunity to take you out on a date?”

Something in Iorveth cracked visibly and Roche went dead still with nervousness. The other lowered his gaze and Roche cupped his face in his hands, desperate for his elf to be okay. He stroked his cheek gently and tilted his head up to try and get a better look at that unreadable expression. This was the opposite of what he hoped would happen and worry began to pool in his stomach.

“Hey, hey. What’s wrong. Talk to me,” he urged and placed a peck on the scarred cheek. There was no answer, so he continued fluttering kisses along his jawline. He felt like his world might come crashing down at any moment and resisted the urge to salvage the situation before he knew what was going on.

It felt like Iorveth was cycling through a thousand and one emotions. He cupped the elf's face in his hands and pulled back, where he was greeted by a vulnerability he had never seen before. The other had this dazed and awed look in his eyes, and if Roche wasn't so flustered by the sudden change of pace, he might he caught his surrender.

“Vernon…”

“I’m here. What is it? You can tell me.”

“It’s just...overwhelming.”

“In a good way or bad way?”

“Good way.”

Roche released the breath he didn’t realise he had been holding. It was nice that the reaction was somewhat positive, but Roche’s poor heart couldn’t take the anticipation. Surprising Iorveth was turning out to be quite bad for his health.

“Well. Have you enjoyed yourself?”

“Mmn.”

“It's okay. We'll take it at your pace.”

“I just... need some time to process this. I’ve never been treated like this before. It's overwhelming.”

“Well you deserve it. Take the time you need, it’s okay,” Roche encouraged again and placed another peck on his nose as he undid the bandanna that obscured half his face.

This really wasn’t how he thought the evening would go, but he had to admit that it was nice. At the core of it, all he really wanted was to be able to kiss and hold Iorveth intimately without fear of someone catching them. Now they were in bed and there was someone trustworthy to watch their backs, he supposed he had achieved his goal. Maybe they could just hold off the fucking for a while more.

“Do you want to take a nap with me,” Roche offered after they'd sat in silence for a while.

“Yeah… I would like that very much.”

Iorveth tried to take off his cloak, but Roche shushed him and pushed his hands aside. The elf had a blank look on his face and hurt momentarily flashed across his eye.

"Let me," Roche rushed to salvage as he pulled loose the strings on his cloak.

“I can undress myself you know.”

“I know you can, but just let me pamper you a bit more.”

The tips of Iorveth's ears were bright red and Roche suppressed the urge to tease him about it. Slowly, he helped the elf strip down to his underwear and slipped him beneath the sheets. Then he took off his own garments and joined him, snuggling up to that warm and slender body that seemed to fit so perfectly with his.

Yeah, he could wait.

[codewordpumpkin]

A Very Denny Christmas

Merry Christmas, @heart4hawkeye​ !! I’m so sorry I couldn’t post this sooner! I don’t even know if you’ve ever watched Boston Legal before, but hopefully, you’ll enjoy this little fic nonetheless!!

“Really, Reddington? Your Blacklister couldn’t wait until after the holidays? It’s Christmas Eve, for god’s sake.”

“I’m sorry, Donald, did you have something better planned? Well, don’t pout or shout just yet. If you’ve been a particularly good boy this year, you may just find a gift from Santa waiting for you at home… or on your doorstep if you’d prefer the illusion of security—I know the FBI loves that.”

Cooper’s brows furrowed as his temples began to throb. “Reddington.”

Red was adept at picking his battles.

“Denny Crane,” he said, as if the name alone was explanation enough.

“The CEO of Flamingo Corp.?” Elizabeth asked.

“The one and only.”

“I still don’t get how he thought that’d be a good name for an arms company,” Aram said from his spot behind his computer.

“Don’t try to get into the head of Denny Crane—it’ll only make yours ache.”

Hands on his hips, Ressler asked, “Is he the next person on the Blacklist?”

“Heavens, no! Denny is a dear associate of mine, and he is to remain untouched by you ham-fisted lot.”

“Get on with it, Red.”

“Relax, Harold. I was, as you so eloquently put it, getting there.” Brushing imaginary lint off his pristine vest, the infuriating man smiled blandly, reveling in the glares burning holes in his suit as he took his sweet time to elaborate. “The man has a memory of a goldfish, hence why he carries around a voice recorder everywhere he goes. That is the key to our next Blacklister.”

“Are you going to tell us who this Blacklister is?”

“All in due time, Samar. All in due time.”

“How are we going to get our hands on this recorder?”

“You mean, your hands. Really, Elizabeth, modesty doesn’t become you.” Before she could snap a retort, he continued, “Denny is hosting a Christmas party this evening. I am invited, as is my plus one, and I have no doubt we’ll have at least one server slipping on banana peels tonight.”

“All right, then,” Cooper exhaled slowly, “brief Agent Keen on her cover, and—”

“Actually, Harold, I was thinking Agent Navabi should accompany me this time.”

That caught everyone’s attention.

“And why is that?”

“Ah, well, I know how much Elizabeth loathes dressing up for these things, so I thought, why not give her a little break—”

“I’ll take a break once we get this over with, Reddington,” Liz said, trying to will down the flush spreading across her cheeks. She hoped the tinge of hurt in her voice had gone undetected.

Cooper turned to Red, an expectant look on his weary face.

“Well, then,” he nodded, clearly displeased, “you’ll need a dress.”

***

“Raymond!”

“Denny!”

Elizabeth watched with mild amusement as the two men exchanged an enthusiastic bear hug. With sparkling eyes and stretched cheeks, they greeted each other rather boisterously, falling into a chatter as if they had never been apart. She was certain they were speaking English, but for the life of her, couldn’t understand what in the world they were actually saying.

“Well, well, well, well, well, and who might this goddess be?”

The stout, rosy-faced man openly leered at her, scrutinizing her from the toes of her strappy heels to the top of her styled head, then dipping back down to gaze at her modest curves. She, too, took the time to scan his appearance, glancing at his expensive tux only fleetingly before zeroing in on the ridiculous headband that held a conspicuously tall sprig of mistletoe.

“Ah,” Red acted as though he had forgotten her very existence, “Denny, meet Elizabeth. Elizabeth, meet Denny.”

Smiling politely, she reached out her hand—which Denny immediately grasped, stamping a kiss just beneath her knuckles. “I’m sure it’s a pleasure to meet me, Lizzie,” he said so smoothly that, for a second, she thought she had misheard him. She also had to apply considerable force to tug her hand out of his stubborn grip. “Denny Crane.”

She wasn’t sure whether Red’s twitch was a result of Crane calling her Lizzie, or if it was because of his overly friendly touch. Either way, his reaction didn’t bother her. In fact, she could admit to herself, she rather liked it.

“Of course,” she finally responded.

Turning to Red, he said in a stage whisper, “You sly dog, still got the touch, eh? But, say… isn’t she a bit old for you? What say I take—”

“Keep your pants where they are, Denny,” Red cut him off, his smile no longer reaching his eyes. “Did I mention Elizabeth’s a vegan?”

She blinked.

Denny blinked.

“What the hell is that?” his associate asked, genuinely confused. “Listen, there aren’t many kinks I don’t know about, but kids today—”

“It means, she not only doesn’t eat meat,” he continued to lie, “she doesn’t consume any animal products at all.”

Gasping, Denny snapped, “Now why the hell would you do that? What, is she anti-gun, too?”

“Careful, Denny,” he warned gravely, “just the word g-u-n is enough to get her shaking in her heels. Point a water-gun in her face, and she’ll scream bloody murder.”

Where the hell was he going with this?

“A veggie and a communist! Where’d you pick this one up, Red? Los Angeles?” Before Red could respond, he waved a dismissive hand. “Well, whatever. You must keep her around for a reason…” He waggled his brows, then winked as if she wasn’t right there. Straightening his bow, he offered her his hand. “Care for a dance, sweetheart? I’ll show you just how well my body moves… Denny Crane.”

“Actually—”

“Sure,” she shot Red a meaningful look, hoping he understood what she was trying to convey, “I’d love to.”

Just before they left for the dance floor, Denny again stage-whispered, “There’s a g-u-n in my pants I’d bet my life she—”

“Denny—”

By then, the egotistical, borderline-predator flirt was too far away for him to strangle. Or gut. Or maim.

Trying not to let Raymond’s withering glare distract her from her task, she brought one of her hands up to rest on Denny’s puffed chest. “So, how did you meet Raymond?” she casually asked, doing her best to maintain a respectable distance between them—which was easier said than done, considering he was doing his best to plaster their bodies together. On the bright side, that meant he was too preoccupied to notice her wandering fingers.

“Why talk about that fat cat when we can talk about Denny Crane? Go ahead, ask me anything.” He continued before she could. “Why, yes, I’m very giving in bed. I’ll go down—”

“To the bar,” Red said, appearing from out of nowhere just as Denny was about to grope her ass. “There was a leggy blonde looking for you.”

“Leggy, you say? How many legs are we talking here? You know, my father once said that the best sex—”

“She won’t be waiting all night, Denny. I’d run as fast as I can if I were you.”

Was she imagining the threat laced in his words?

“We’ll have to continue this later, Lizzie.” Dropping her like a hot potato, he licked his lips and turned to dash. Looking over his shoulder, he bid, “Keep her warm for me, Ray.”  

Luckily for him, he was surprisingly fast.

“I got the recorder,” she quietly confirmed to Red, assuming that was the reason he had interrupted her dance with Denny. “I’ll just pass it to Ressler or Samar—”

“The song isn’t over yet, Lizzie,” he said, reclaiming his nickname for her with a glint of… something in his eyes, his voice.

With one hand in hers and the other low on her back, he encouraged her to fall into step with him, their movements easy and natural. But even when the song ended and changed, they didn’t stop, instead slowing further and sinking into the lulling rhythm of the music.

She wasn’t aware of when or how it had happened, but she belatedly realized just how close their faces were. A mere inch forward would allow her to graze her nose against his smooth skin, inhale the clean, unique scent of him. A little closer, and she would be able to taste the champagne on his lips. With a gentle pressure, a slight gasp, she could so easily—

They jumped apart at the sound of a loud crash.

It didn’t take long for them to discern where the commotion was coming from, as there was already a loose crowd forming near the bar—and at the very center of it was none other than Denny Crane.

He was standing across from a scowling man and a tall blonde woman…

Raymond and Elizabeth both had a feeling they knew what had started this mess.

“I didn’t proposition her. I just asked her to have sex with me,” Denny announced, as if that was a perfectly acceptable thing to say.

The man’s face flushed with a worrisome shade of crimson, and to everyone’s horror, revealed that he was seriously armed. Before he could do anything with it, however, a loud bang shocked everyone still.

On his previously unblemished pants, right in the middle of his thigh, was a bright blob of yellow… paint?

“Oops. Wrong one.” Bending down, Denny retrieved a small gun that had been strapped to his ankle. “Denny Crane doesn’t get shot at,” he yelled, aiming at the man’s other thigh and pulling the trigger without hesitation. “Denny Crane shoots!”

Chaos commenced as the two literally engaged in a gun fight. Bullets whizzed, screams erupted, glass shattered. People ran this way and that, tripping over dresses, abandoning stilettos, and doing their best to escape with their flesh in tact.

“I was a sniper in the Navy!… Or was I a helicopter pilot?” Now with a gun in each hand, Denny shot bullet after bullet, shouting as he ducked and spun. “I have an erection. Lock and load, baby! Denny Crane!”

“That’s our cue to leave,” Red said in her ear, practically dragging her by the elbow. On their way out, he released her briefly to stop Ressler from getting involved. Something on the ground caught her eye, and she used the few seconds she had to take it, attempting not to get trampled on in the process. “Lizzie. Now.”

This time, they didn’t stop walking until they were safely encased in the back of his car, Dembe driving them out into the night.

Keeping her stolen object carefully hidden, she turned to Red and smirked. “Well, that was interesting.”

“That’s one way of saying it,” he said, chuckling.

He leaned back, settling into the seat and closing his eyes. Knowing an opportunity when she saw one, she gripped the accessory from beside her hip and placed it on his head, refusing to move away as he jerked and snapped his eyes back open.

She didn’t give him a chance to question her.

She didn’t give herself the chance.

Not wanting to waste another second, she pressed her mouth to his.

The kiss was chaste, but it lingered—long enough for her to notice just how soft his lips were. And although she had always been more of a wine girl, she reveled in the fact that she really could taste the remnants of champagne, the crisp flavor blending with subtle, intoxicating notes that could only be described as him.

Finally, after seconds or minutes—time was irrelevant to her at that moment—she pulled back, still close enough to feel his radiating heat and sense his racing pulse. Just as his thumb had stroked the small of her back, she used hers to brush his lips, his jaw, before reaching up to flick the mistletoe hanging above them.

“Merry Christmas, Red,” she said, just as softly as her smile.

Pushing his tongue against the inside of his cheek, slowly gathering his wits, he tentatively reached for her hand and tangled their fingers together. “Merry Christmas, Lizzie.”

Neither of them spoke for the rest of the ride, but both knew that they didn’t need to.

Words could wait.

For now, they had each other.

Finally.

[courage-a-word-of-justice]

Sarazanmai 3 - 6 | Fruits Basket 2 - 7 | OPM 2 2 - 7 | BSD 3 3 - 6 | Demon Slayer 4 - 7 | Shield Hero 17 - 20

I’ll be rolling out the tags around about the time of this post.

Sarazanmai 3

Kisu = kissu (kiss). Update: Or kisu (on the right side of my equation). You do you, subbers.

Goma-ae.

Gomennassara! (Oh, I get it…!)

It never occurred to me that a “micanga” was a bead or small pierced round object of some sort. I thought it was a race track sort of thing, but for soccer. Update: It’s a bracelet/anklet thing.

Wait, so what brought on this change of heart from Kazuki??? Is it like the 1st episode, where it was a daydream that was cleverly presented as real? Update: Yep.

Oh…have you noticed all the victims of Reo and Mabu’s scheme are men of the NEET/freeter age, or approaching that?

Notably, the signature pose of the Sarazanmai seems to be similar to the one Kazuki and Enta did in the soccer team.

I find it interesting that Enta is now the initiator of the Sarazanmai and thus the one to steal the shirikodama. I mean, he used to be the one with the least stakes in the Dish of Hope scenario…and now look at him!

Ooh, Toi is sharpening his ruler! (Or whatever you do in Touken Ranbu with that lil’ beater of his.)

Oh wait, I forgot Ikuhara always has a last-minute twist! Go back, go back!

It seems like Haruka has some kind of illness…hmm. Update: Oh, it’s not an illness per se…spoke too soon.

Haruka’s talking about the Little Prince…hmm. Last time I really bothered to engage with that story in any form was Star Driver.

Fruits Basket 2

I don’t think I ever really chose a side on the Kyo vs Yuki debate, but I guess I always subtly sided with Yuki (even though the end pairing is Tohru and *bleep*). <- sorry, had to censor myself

“It’s important for me to get to school every day!”

Kabedon! Eeeeee! (LOL, I really am a squealy person at heart, aren’t I?)

The writing says “she misheard [what Yuki said] as ‘being sick’”, so it was quite lucky that the word “sickened” worked in context.

Yuki has some mad ninja skills…LOL.

Shigure in a suit looks goooooooooood, man (<- gender neutral use of “man”).

“…the days ahead will be fun.” – Oh, Tohru, you don’t know how wrong you are…(says someone who completed the manga)

Fruits Basket 3

I’m hearing the OP for the first time…and it sounds like an ED. (Probably because I read some impressions that said the same thing earlier today.)

“…included in the zodiac?”

Ooh! Momiji! Wait, er…I didn’t expect him to be so high-pitched…

Lookit the tiny cat icon on the side! It’s cute!!!

*yells* It’s Kagura!!!!!!!! She ain’t my favourite, but man, is it great to see another familiar face!

I’ve been wondering what the title meant when it said “what year is she?” It means “year of the zodiac”.

Fruits Basket 4

“Shii-chan”…?

Kyo-kun ran away before Kagura even started making dinner…

Was Kyo’s katsudon a joke…? (Cats-udon, geddit?...No?)

“…marriage is a girl’s greatest dream.” – That used to be so, Tohru…nowadays, it ain’t.

Lookit how Kyo’s eyes lit up when he talks about his teacher!

OPM 2 2

That title’s…even more counterintuitive than “OPM 2 1”…hmm.

It’s…kind of dark right now.

I think there was bourbon on the counter. Someone likes to drink around here…

I guess with the mass animation exodus, OPM seems kinda…monologue-y. And cheap…

…nope, I take back my words. They were merely saving up for this action scene.

BSD 28 (S3 Ep 3)

Seriously, what are those metal things Dazai was wearing? Anyways, I like how it’s absolutely the norm that Chuuya swears now and I was part of forming that. Because I don’t swear a lot, I think Chuuya makes a nice outlet for my own frustrations...that’s what could be said, anyway.

D’aww. Someone acknowledges Chuuya’s identity. Ain’t that grand? (Now you see why I like Chuuya more than Dazai these days, huh?)

Come to think of it…a person hasn’t died in this show for a while, have they? It just goes to show you that despite one of its major stars being a guy obsessed with shinjuu (double suicide), the creators seem to be emphasising the sanctity of life itself.

Oh, I never thought they had an explanation for Dazai’s coat…

What is the age difference between Chuuya and Dazai anyway??? They’re both 15 during the LN that’s called that, but the exact difference…what is it? Update: Dazai’s birthday is June 19th and Chuuya’s is April 29th, so the difference is 1 month and 21 days (using the idea that 7 days = a week and May is 30 days, that’s 51 days in all).

Ooh, we’re getting Fyodor, Ace and the unnamed kid soon, aren’t we? That also means we’re in unknown territory for myself, too…hmm.  

OPM 2 3

When did Saitama last meet Charanko anyway? Charanko is voiced by Toshiki Masuda, so I would’ve kept an eye out for him, but the art shift and the years between seasons mean I don’t remember anymore.

Oof, “justice crashed Mumen Rider’s head” is more like it.

CGI banana…Just saying “CGI banana” is funny.

Kimetsu no Yaiba 4

Headpats, headpats all around!

Hooo…boy. I already knew Sabito and Makomo were dead because Crow and Irina’s collab post was called “The Names of Dead Children”, but how it was delivered…was such a powerful move.

I saw the blonde boy who’s in the OP…hmm. Update: His name is Zenitsu, according to the next-ep preview.

OPM 2 4

When comparing this dissection of monsters against Mob Psycho…the biggest monster Mob has is himself…hmm.

I didn’t expect Saitama to actually enter under Charanko’s name with that wig he got…

“…name as a martial artist.”

Mojo for the dojo, it seems this man wants.

I think the centipede senpai is CGI. Hmm…

It’s been years…I’ve forgotten what Ponytail Head’s name is! (And I call OPM one of my favourite series in anime…!)

Sarazanmai 4

“Writers exist between life and death.” – …is Ikuhara expressing his own thoughts on how anime writers are treated…?

I anticipate a soba pun (soba = noodles and soba = beside [someone]).

“…gives a s***…” – Says you, Toi, with the “Golden Poop” in the background. Then again, that’s just an English pun. Don’t mind me.

Comic Sans…you can’t escape it, even in this day and age…

Yude = to boil, soba…is the noodles. (The “o” on the end of the Monster of the Week’s first name means “man”.) Ikuhara uses Monster of the Week names in service of symbolism, while Takamatsu uses inconsistency for the sake of humour.

Intetestingly, there’s a spiralling blue thing in the background of the dance number and it says “soba” (katakana) and “desire” (yokubou, in kanji).

The headline translates to “Tragedy! It was next to me, but then…” (Kigeki! Sakki made soba ni ita noni…) The subbers had to accommodate the soba pun though, so they went with “so bar away”.

Hmm…now Toi takes centre stage…

2007, huh? How old are Kazuki and co. again?

This is probably the least surprising secret of all, y’know. Also, I think Keppi and Kazuki have cucumbers in their mouths.

They have subs for Stand By Me now!!! Oh mai globbb!

W-Wuh?! I can see why he’d hate Haruka (feelings of “why don’t my parents look at me the way they look at him anymore?”), but…this really turns this entire story on its head!

Kimetsu no Yaiba 5

Interestingly, the “My” in the episode title is Onore (an “I” indicating professionalism).Come to think of it…what is Tanjiro’s pronoun of choice?

Aww…the fact Tanjiro kinda looks like the demon’s (previous body’s…?) bro made the scene kinda cute. Possibly, it could be even enough to drive someone to tears…not that I was driven to tears, of course.

Well, here’s Zenitsu.

This angry kid reminds me of Mike Teevee (from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory). He seems like a rival, but he’ll disappear soon enough. Also, LOL, a sparrow instead of a crow.

“…my whole body hurts.” – Welp, that’s what happens when you lose sleep fighting demons for 7 days straight…

Why the obvious names? (re: Haganezuka – that is, hagane means “steel”…also, Nichirin contains the character for “sun” (at least, I think so…?) and Yoko can be understood to be/homophonous to the word for “sunlight”)

Tanjiro, son of Tanjuro…LOL. That was probably deliberate – it means the first son follows in the father’s footsteps.

For some reason, I wanted Haganezuka to pop out of the comic for the next-ep preview…aww.

Shield Hero 17

How many times did Fitoria say “I’m going to kill the heroes” and Naofumi say variants of “no”? Because of that, I had half a mind to jump ship and head to RobiHachi instead…but keep going.

That cowlick stuff was probably the most fun I’ve had with this show in a while…heh.

Oh great…Naofumi expanded his pseudo-harem to two bird waifus…then again, I had a stupid grin on my face seeing Fitoria’s old master, so maybe it’s not all bad, y’know?

Post-credits scene…keep watching!

Wah-wait…what the heck was that explosion???!!!

BSD 29 (S3 Ep 4)

That’s…Topaz (unofficial name)…ohhhhhhhh dear…

Oooh, Katai! Katai! Yay!!! (As you can tell, I had a very small thing for Katai. He reminds me of En-chan, y’see.)

The CGI in this OP…you can tell there’s quite a bit of it, huh?

It’s Deadmau5 (as the fandom used to joke)!

Fyodor’s eyes of disgust as Topaz dries his hair…hmm.

Older Topaz looks surprisingly like Oda…I don’t remember that exact shot, but it might’ve been in the manga. His background also reminds me of Chuuya’s.

OPM 2 Ep 4 (OPM 18)

“Irksome insect”…says the giant insect.

I think I saw a 7-11 pastiche in the background.

Why does the bird have a human hand in his belly? What??? (LOL)

This tournament arc don’t feel so hype, now that MHA’s is over…

Someone likes Donkey Kong… (referring to Marshal Gorilla and the other Kong guy (Heavy Kong))

Sarazanmai 5

…oh wow. Y’mean Kazuki is adopted???

“Why don’t you say anything, even though you know about me now?” (from Toi) – Probably because Kazuki is as f***ed up as you are, if not worse.

What are those sparkles coming off Sara’s face…? Not sure if they’re a shoujo thing or just…gratuitous sparkles.

LOL, Nioino Fukuro. Basically “pouch of scent” when you insert a space between the second I and the second N and change the first name kanji, plus change the “no” to hiragana.

I know the title of the song is Kawausoiya (translates to “awful otters” or something like that), but “soiya” doesn’t make much sense on its lonesome.

Wait…does that mean Sara is the creature? Or there are two Saras that can look the same, but one looks like the human and one is more kappa-like???

For some reason, I’m getting changeling vibes here…that Kazuki wants to look different to the rest of his family because he knows he’s different.

Hey…there’s this thing called the tourist gaze. It argues that because people create notions of reality differently, people have different ideas of what makes a trip “good” and “authentic”. In the same sense, Haruka’s “false” connection with Kazuki!Sara has become his reality, so it’s not wrong to say this Sara is real for him.

Oh…I just realised some kanji that appar early in the OP are the kanji for “extraction”.

So, uh…in a sense…can I interpret Kazuki’s love for his real mother a Fruedian thing? It seems all men’s love can be interpreted to be Freudian in some way or another…also, Sara kind of looks like his mother in a very “surface” kind of way. That is, they have a very passing resemblance to each other. Update: I’ve been reading some Stephen King lately and if I took anything away from that experience, it would be that everything is Freudian when it comes to men’s experiences. That’s why I say that.

Kimetsu no Yaiba 6

…*remembers something from the collab that was along the lines of “Astral doesn’t like Tanjiro’s green jacket”* Astral’s not gonna like this, then. (For those who don’t know the context, “Astral” is AstralGemini of the Zodiac Room.)

*Tanjiro is told he might not go very far with his demon slaying* *Tanjiro reacts with happiness that he’s on his way to get Nezuko human again* - Uh…I know I’ve watched my share of shonen, but I kind of didn’t expect that and yet also did.

Ugh…it’s the return of CGI Tanjiro…the vegie patch looks good in CGI though, for some reason.

Lemme guess…with a title like that (Swordsman Accompanying a Demon), could it be that Kazumi is a demon???

“I don’t get it at all.” – LOL…that was unintentionally funny (for the second time in this show, the first being Hand Demon).

BSD 30 (S3 Ep 5)

Moby Dick crashing into Yokohama? It was literally years ago for us!

I’m pretty sure these Park guys didn’t exist in the manga. Update: Nope, they did. I’ve read the corresponding chapter, it’s just that that was also 2 years ago…just like the last we saw of the anime.

I love how the “gyaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” ended in blood splatter, literally.

The Park guys apparently come from ch. 44 but Katai comes from ch. forty…what? One? Two? It’s not 40 (Hitori Ayumu), that’s all I know.

Katai is a good boy. You’ll see why in…oh, a few seconds.

Oh, I love the ending of this story. I already know the ending, but seeing it again will be a whole new bag of laughs!

Uh…I forgot how much of an interruption the anime’s humour is. My dream of a “whole new bag of laughs” is at least half dashed…*shoulders slump*

Apparently Atsushi cut his hair himself…not sure if that’ll be a spoiler for later, but it’s still something cool to know.

“So it’s your letter?”

Katai is basically me when it comes to my husbandos. See why I love him???

Come to think of it…I haven’t properly listened to the ED yet! Better do that while I still have the chance.

Fruits Basket 5

Shigure is such a troll…just like I remember him.

Fruits Basket 6

Hatori! Ooh! He’s hottttttt! Sizzling!...Okay, I think you get my point already…

I think someone else (Amelia from A Girl and Her Anime…?) pointed this out…but I don’t understand a speck of German outside 1 – 10 (I remembered the German word for “six” way too well when I was younger). So it would help if they bothered to make the German English as well.

For some reason, the stick figure was both obviously a cost-cutting measure and also elevated the hilarity of that scene…!

I don’t quite know what the Japanese equivalent of the “macaroni and cheese” thing was, but it conveys the same idea in the two languages and makes people laugh along the way, so…*shrugs shoulders* Makes sense, I guess.

Tohru is kandou about meeting an author. Kandou means to be deeply moved (noun form).

LOL, Hanajima reading the book.

…Oh my goodness. I just realised Fruits Basket has a lot of characters with fringes. 90s fringes for everyone!

“…a cartoon about a cat and a rat that are always fighting…” - Come to think of it, Tom and Jerry is popular in Japan.

Shield Hero 18

I think this episode title ends in inbou, which means “intrigue”.

This show is clearly trying to play the same cards over and over again…

Shield Hero 19

Hypocrites! Hypocrites everywhere! *does Buzz Lightyear hand gesture from the meme*

OPM 19 (S2 Ep 6)

The reason the fat guy is called Dave is not just because of B/V confusion, but because debu (without the line in the middle) is a slang word for…wait for it…”fatty”.

Interestingly, Murata previously worked on a oneshot called Gokiburi Buster. I wonder if this Cockroach Boi is from there…?

Did you notice the guys behind the umpire, who had a stretcher at the ready…?

“Mr Saynuthin” seems to be “Nanmoien-san” in Japanese.

“Waganma” seems to be a play on wagamama, or selfish. However, I can’t pin down the pun in the father’s name...

Well, well, well…at least someone acknowledges Speed of Sound Sanic (the ninja, not the CGI abomination or the monkey) is hecka-speedy.

Charanko (the real one)…he has ashi no ura (the back of the foot) written on his bandages…LOL.

Sarazanmai 6

Apparently Kazuki’s (foster) family all wear the same kind of stripes…which is what Kazuki means when he doesn’t want to wear the same kind of clothes as his family.

Okay…so the first set of kanji that appear in the OP are the one for “desire” and the ones after that are “extraction”…geddit? (LOL)

Oh my glob…how in the name of Iyami does Osomatsu-san get so popular that after I watched the first season of that show, it starts appearing in other places as well????

I saw a translation of the Reo and Mabu tweets and apparently at least one of them can make ningyoyaki (a type of cake you can make in all sorts of shapes – scroll down a bit on that page and you’ll find the description of ningyoyaki there).

Uhh…ghh…Keppi pole dancing was disturbing…*soul floats out of body temporarily*

Reo (I think that’s Reo, at least) has ningyoyaki…Update: Yup, that’s Reo.

“Headdress”, huh?

Why does this episode 6 feel like ending material…?

Wait…you’re saying Reo and Mabu are princes of the otter kingdom??? Wuh???

BSD 31 (S3 Ep 6)

(Lucy blushes) Wow…now there’s an option for a het ship right there…not that anyone will take it.

I saw a GIF of Atsushi floating naked and face down in the water (because Irina), but…I forgot exactly how the scenario before it went, so I LOLled.

Oh yeah…this chapter had a tie-in with Mizuki Tsujimura, because Mizuki knew Kyoka’s mother. Also, it shows you can inherit Abilities…

It’s Truck-kun and the curse of the isekai!...Okay, I’m kidding.

Oh yeah…this is the chapter about the Headmaster…

I haven’t been in a good place mentally for the past few years or so, due to my world basically fragmenting around me, so the words “don’t hate yourself” are strong ones coming from a place both nostalgic and new.

Dazai inherits a particularly interesting space in Atsushi’s life. He’s like a brother and father wrapped up into one (Kunikida is the nagging mother in that analogy, LOL), but also obsessed with suicide to the point he can also be a liability.

“…didn’t tell anyone…”

It’s also interesting to compare Tohru (of Fruits Basket) and Atsushi. They’re both selfless, but Tohru’s selflessness is shown to be a double-edged sword while Atsushi’s gives him a lot of resentment but is overall a positive thing.

Aww…seeing Atsushi slowly tear up almost made me tear up too…

Fitzgerald Rising…that’s the name of the chapter where…oh, sorry. It’s been years, so I’ll let it all play out for you and me again without mentioning any spoilers until they happen in (close to) real time in the show, okay?

Fruits Basket 7

This is the first time there’s been English lyrics on the OP for this show…I think.

Who’s this “he” Tohru’s referring to when examining the woman’s picture? Akito, probably, but I’m not 100% sure…Update: It was Hatori, actually.

“Shii-san”, “Haa-san” etc. is…cute. *cue “O kawaii koto…” from Kaguya-sama*

I get the feeling that Shigure is almost like a prototype Dazai (Bungou Stray Dogs). Or they just have a lot in common.

“Are these my just desserts?”

Demon Slayer 7

Nezuko’s playing whack a mol-er, demon, isn’t she??? (LOL)

Whoa…it must be mighty freaky to be floating in a swamp of dead people’s possessions…

Welp, Tanjiro…that’s one way to say “hands off my sister”. *nods* By cutting the demon’s hands off…

I like the contrast between Tanjiro’s callused hands and Kazumi’s smooth ones.

Hey…why does food always get wasted in movies and other media…? I know I’m applying real-life consumption habits to media, but it always looks quite wasteful, y’know…?

OPM 20 (S2 Ep 7)

I never noticed that shot of Watchdog Man in the OP before…huh.

Pig God’s shirt says DEV. It’s a pun on debu (fatty)…again.

Ooh! I saw him in the OP! Flashy Flash! I’ve never seen him in action outside the OP before, but I know his name and appearance from reading around.

“You all are the strongest swordsmen we have.”

Seriously, Saitama, just get something to stick the wig on and you wouldn’t have gotten into this mess. Maybe superglue…(okay, I’m kidding about the superglue).

OPM got really childish this time… 

[lookatthedawn]

Hong Kong

Finally, we leave Hanoi and quickly land in Hong Kong.  I have decided to leave the airport and visit the city.  In order to do that, I have to go through immigration and require a visa.  However, the huge line is moving rather slowly, it's past 11:30 pm and I've been told that the last bus to Hong Kong leaves at midnight.  I speak to an attendant at the airport who urges me to get in line as soon as possible and try my luck.  I get to the immigration desk with only a couple minutes to spare, and the attendant quickly gives me a visa -- a little piece of paper, really -- allowing me to stay up to 90 days in Hong Kong.  Did you hear that, China?   Hong Kong Internation airport is large and it can be confusing if you, like me, don't know it well.  It takes me a while to pass through customs, as there's another line, and finally, I'm out and looking for ground transportation.  I see signs for buses leaving for the mainland and run to buy a ticket.  It's fortunate that I have exchanged VND into HKD in advance, for I have seconds to make a decision where to go.  I have no idea where I'm going, to be quite frank.  The lady behind the counter explains to me that this bus, leaving now, will go to Port-whatever, is that the one I want?  I have no idea, and what do you say when you have no idea?  "Yes!" She hands me the ticket and charges me 100 HKD.  The information I had was that it would cost me 40 HKD, but I have no time to discuss pricing.  I get the ticket and run in the direction she indicates, where a limovan is waiting with the engine running.  I was expecting a bus, not a limovan, but the driver takes my ticket and rushes me in, as I'm the last passenger of the night.  There are seven more passengers in the van, and as soon as we are seated, the driver asks for our passports.  I have said it before, I do not like to give out my passport since it's my only form of identification in these parts.  Perhaps I have seen one too many movies of people crossing the frontier into the United States, who give their passport to the coyotes, and won't see their document back unless they give them all their current possessions and anything they will ever earn, plus their children's heart and their own. But, in the name of expediency, everyone turns their passport to the driver, and we start to move.  I realize too late that I should have kept the visa -- the little paper -- from inside my passport. Oh, well!   We're moving.  For a long time, I can't see much more than highway and some lights in the distance.  I'm expecting to see more of Hong Kong but about an hour later we arrive at some security post, where our passports are presented, reviewed and thankfully, returned to us.  We ride for about five more minutes and we've arrived.  But where?  I see a plain official-looking building where a lot of people are rushing in, even though this is past one a.m..  I get in too, and only there realize my mistake; this is a port to mainland China, not Hong Kong Island. I approach a friendly guard and ask for help, which consists of 'how do I get to Hong Kong?'  Since he doesn't speak much English, he kindly directs me to an attendant who is busy doing about a hundred things.  At the risk of blunt generalization, I shall say that I have observed in the West that women are better at multitasking than men.  It must be something to do with childrearing and the demand that running a household while taking care of little ones impose on a mother.  What about women who are not mothers?  My theory is that they develop these skills in preparation and imitation, and it's probably genetic too.  This is a long-held view, but now I see that there are actually studies confirming my opinion, as reported by BBC in 2013.  Check it out!

However, while waiting for this agent to help me, I'm amazed at his ability to multitask.  He answers the phone, works on his computer, notices colleagues across the room and informs them or gives them a key or a paper, and he does all that with the grace of a loving and energetic mother.  He turns to me and asks for my passport.  He takes it to the computer and studies it, raising his eyes often to greet someone or solve another problem.  Finally, he comes back to me, shows me my passport open on the page with the Chinese visa and states the obvious.  "This visa only allows one visit to China, and you've already used it." "Yes, I know, I don't want to go to China, I want to go to Hong Kong." "But this is the border to the mainland." "Yes, I understand that. I came here by mistake.  All I want to know is how to get to Hong Kong." "Oh, okay," he says, with the same smile and grace as before.  I wonder what kind of Zen practice he has learned that allows him to be this genuinely polite and cheerful person.  Very different from the attendants on the border with Vietnam and different also from other people behind a counter in, let's say, New York City, with murdering eyes and a plastic smile.   He calls a tall and elegant female officer and asks her to guide me.  She takes me to a bus stop outside, where a small bus is parked.  "How much is the fare?" I ask, to which she replies, "it's free."  As she signals to the driver I think I either misheard or her English is limited.  But it turns out the bus is only taking me across security, to another station, where a handful of buses are parked.   The problem is that there are a couple of booths selling tickets for different parts of Hong Kong, and I have no idea where I want to go.  I talk to one guy working at a liquor store, the only store open at this time.  He doesn't speak English, but we use his cell phone to communicate.  I ask him for suggestions and he asks me if I want a place that's more fun.  I tell him I'm hoping for sights, not exactly fun since I have no idea what kind of fun he has in mind.  He clarifies that he means clubs and dancing.  I repeat I want to see stuff, not really do anything.  He thinks this over.  He tells me that Hong Kong is beautiful and I'll see great sights anywhere I go, but ends up writing a number on a paper.  I buy a ticket for the bus he suggested (for 44 Hong Kong Dollars), which is about to leave.  During all that it dawns on me that I am in mainland China, not Hong Kong, and I have to show my passport a couple of times until I'm on my way to the island.   The bus is fairly full, and I wonder where all these people are going at this hour.  They're talking in a bunch of languages, mostly Asian, but sometimes I hear French, German or English as well.  

Where do you stop when you have no idea where you're going?  Since I'm seeing so much from the bus, I have no hurry to get out.  However, there are some neighborhoods with open restaurants and clubs while other neighborhoods are deserted.  I don't want to stop on those. I end up going to the final station where I try to find out which bus I should take to the airport, even though I still have hours to explore the city. I'm told I must take the bus A21.  Where does it stop?  The gentleman gives me directions, which I hope to remember.  Leaving the station I see two kids, probably in their late teens, hanging out.  I ask if they speak English and both say yes, so I ask them a bunch of questions about Hong Kong, especially in what, if anything, it differs from China.  Just like night and day, they're quick to tell me.  Hong Kong has a different language, currency, and policies.  Hong Kong is extremely open to western business, culture, and values, while mainland China is not.  Also, there are many English-speakers in Hong Kong.  In fact, most signs have an English translation, which makes being here easy and comfortable.  And of course, in their visa processing, mainland China and Hong Kong are completely different.  Two things about these kids strike me as remarkable; how friendly and respectful they are and the fact that they're talking on the street, hanging out as though it's the middle of the afternoon, when in fact is about 2 in the morning.   I quickly find the street where bus A21 stops at several points, and, keeping it in the back of my mind, explore the neighborhood.  Although many shops are closed, there are many people on the streets.  Restaurants, cafes, and clubs are open.  I find a nice park, but that's also closed for the night.  I don't remember ever seeing a closed urban park and I wonder the reason for having gates at all.  I buy a banana at a produce shop, but what I'm really looking for is a place where I can sit with a cup of tea and my laptop.  Not finding anywhere else, I enter the funkiest McDonald's I have ever seen.  However, this McDonald's is divided into two distinct ambiances, one for breakfast, and the other for... liquor?  They do have things like muffins and coffee but that counter won't be open for another five hours.  I look for another place.  There are a lot of street vendors, some of them in the process of closing shop for the night.  I check their merchandise, hoping to find a Hong Kong magnet, but what I see is a great assortment of bongs, lighters and other stuff which I don't know the name or the function.  Stand after stand, they all sell the same products, and not one of them is selling souvenirs.   What I don't understand is that Hong Kong has a zero tolerance policy toward illegal drug use, and still, these vendors are openly selling drug paraphernalia and, considering their number, I'd say business is blooming. However, I don't see any indication of people under the effects of drugs. The Hong Kongers around me are low-key, friendly and cheerful.  Most are walking alone or with a friend, they take the time to greet me with a smile and, if I ask them a question, they're courteous and helpful.  This is the night crowd.  I wonder whether day-timers are any different.  But I won't find that out, not this time.

Soon it's time for me to head to the airport.  I stop at one of the many bus stops along a busy street and in a few minutes, the A21 comes.  It's a nice double-decker equipped with wi-fi.  The fare is 33 HKD.  Compare this amount to the 144 HKD I paid on my way to the mainland and then back to the island.  The old Brazilian adage "in order to avoid taking one step, Brazilians take two" strikes again.  However, blaming my Brazilian heritage doesn't make me feel any better about the 111 HKD I've wasted.  I shall file this experience under "expensive lessons", with a note: check transportation before landing.  

At daybreak, I'm back at the Hong Kong airport, which is pretty empty at this time, with most stories still closed.  Outside daylight is soft, with tones of pink, orange, and grey, and the weather is quite pleasant.  HKIA is well organized and well equipped.  At a charging station, I do some work in my laptop and recharge all my batteries.  After I'm done I look around and realize that the airport is full and every store is open.  I finally buy a Hong Kong magnet and have breakfast at one of the food courts.  Then I call my sister who keeps me company until the time of departure.  I haven't slept in over twenty-four hours and I'm looking for a solid sixteen-hour flight.  Perhaps I can finish Engleby... As we board the plane I see a Buddhist monk.  His haughty demeanor catches my attention.  He is barefoot and carrying absolutely nothing, which is something unusual in an airport.  Traveling with him is a man in regular Western clothes, carrying all the luggage. I wonder about the purpose of that.  What's the spiritual goal of owing nothing, traveling light, if someone else will carry your stuff for you? But maybe my assumptions are all wrong and the guy in regular clothes is actually the big shot, carrying the other's heavy suitcase and documents in other to practice humility.   It could be.  

As we wait for take-off I see in the distance a car going up a cable toward a mountain far away.  It reminds me of Sugar Loaf in Rio de Janeiro and I'm filled with the desire to get to know Hong Kong better.   But not now.  Now I'm homebound.

[shleezaemour]

Yet another 3 days in the infirmary fic!!

I followed him. It was stupid I know but I followed the stupid blonde to the infirmary. My blue eyed captor smiling his brightest smile luring me into a confined corner. Part of me wanted to be normal. Wanted to enjoy the attention. I wasn't raised that way. Not by my mother and not by myself. Setting me up in a corner of the infirmary, turns out Will had everything all planned out. It was concerning. "Ok so here's your room you will be here for three days minimum until I deem you fit for camp. First we are going to do a routine check up and get a history on you. From what I pulled from your records we don't have anything from the last four years but it seems we still have stuff from when you and your sister first arrived." Bianca. Will knew about Bianca.... "Yeah well not much has changed." "I'll be the judge of that sir. Ok I need you to strip down. First shirt then pants. You may keep your underwear on." "Is this really necessary?" "Yes I need to make sure everything is ok Nico. I promise I'm not just trying to get you naked. " I blushed at the idea. Breathe Nico breathe it's just a doctor exam. I took off my clothes and sat on the white canvas cot all made up for me. The ones here in the back were bigger. Must be for stays longer than a night. Taking his time and moving slowly Will moved around me like I was a feral animal. Must be used to kids with PTSD. Kids who look at their swords a little to long and pull from sheath from the sound of a dinner plate breaking. Coming over he sat on a low wooden stool setting out medical implements in a neat row. The more he organized the more nervous I became. I fought monsters and gods and yet Will Solace lining up reflex testers and swabs made me start shaking. Looking me over I could feel his blue orbs absorbing everything from my body. In all honesty I haven't been this undressed in a very long time especially not with someone looking at me. Long warm fingertips grazed my scars. I had so many from the years. Wordlessly he went to work on the Lycon scratches. Mumbling about taking out the stitches and redoing them. "Nico I need to do something and it's going to hurt a lot. I need you to hold still can you do that?" "Yes of course." "Would you like something to bite on? I have a belt." "No I can take it." "Ok. " Pressing his hands on the marks heat swarmed in the area ripping my skin apart. He was reversing what had already healed to the original state of the scratches. The stitches broke as he did this snapping off, barely noticeable compared to the rest of the pain. I could feel blood running down my back. I didn't scream. I didn't even make noise. Taking a hot pad he staunched the bleeding. Grabbing the tools from the table he prepped the area. "I'm going to put some stuff in these to numb them then I'll redo the stitch work." I nodded silently afraid to open my mouth, who knew what would fly out. Will was so concentrated when he worked like nothing could pull his attention away from what he was doing. I had never seen such focus. Especially not in the ADHD hub of people we were around. "What was it you used to numb it?" "Cocaine" "WHAT!" "Geez deathboy it was a joke. It was powered unicorn horn." "Oh good." "Are you saying you have used cocaine?" I was silent. "Nico, I need to know certain things for medical use and drug use is one of them. I'm a doctor for all intents and purposes I can't and won't talk to anyone about it. I need to know for drug interaction though." Damn him and his using logic against me. "I ugh.. I've used it before. And pain pills the mortal kind." "Like Motrin pain meds or like Percocet?" "Vicodin and Oxy." "Last time you took these?" "Before the Doors of death and right after I boarded the Argo II. I ran out." "Did you go through withdrawals?" He asked calmly. "No I've never really been on them regularly enough to withdrawal." "Are these used recreationally?" "Yes." I admitted pitifully. "Hey stop that!" He held his fingers below my chin not allowing me to look down. "Nico, you are not the first demi God to self medicate. You are also not the last. It's ok. We have all done it. Let's just hope we can make it so you don't have to anymore ok?" "It's just... I'm so tired of being in pain all the time." "I know. I can see that. You have so many marks it's hard to count. I finished your stitches they should be able to come out tomorrow with some ambrosia and nectar. I also want to do a sleeping draught for you. I promise it's dreamless. I made it myself." "You promise?" "Yes. I have some in pill form too for you to take with you when you leave. I think two months worth should do the trick. Let your mind heal for a while." "Why are you being so nice to me?" "Because you are letting me." Once again the smile creeped on his face and I couldn't help but smile too. "Ok question time. How many bones have you broken?" "Around 17 or more." "Ok on a scale of 1-10 how tired would you say you get traveling from here to your cabin. Shadow travel that is?" "Umm wow I've never thought about that I guess a 1?" "Ok so that gives me an idea of how far you can go. Do you have an example for me or can give me any insight on your traveling? No other campers can do it so I need your help on this one." "Ok um... I can cross state lines pretty easily. More than 200 miles at a time I need a nights rest by myself. Taking others is more wary. In and around camp is very easy no fatigue. Zero fatigue in the underworld. I can visit my dad easily. " "Ok so let's put a no travel ban on you for a month until you restore your strength. That includes skeletons and earth fissures." "You say that so calmly like you have heard this all before." "Well you would be surprised at some of the powers we run into here. You, Percy, Thalia, and Jason are he most powerful though." "Wait no Annabeth?" "Nope she's no better off than the rest of her siblings. She just happens to have more clout and experience. Makes her seem more powerful when really it's just the confidence behind it." "Makes sense." "Ok I'm hooking up your IV and you will be sleeping very soon." Taking his time and small pinch later he had me hooked up and feeling... feeling really good. I was getting drowsy pulling the covers over me. "Hey Nico?" Yawn.."yeah" "You are staying right? At camp I mean?" "I'll try. I'll give it a real try." "Ok" And I drifted off with thoughts of blonde curls and lapis blue eyes. Day 2 Waking up I could feel the warm covers soft on my skin. My eyes heavy with sleep practically stuck together. "Wake up deathboy time to do checks!" I felt a swat on my behind. "Whoa dude watch the merchandise!" "Merchandise? Are you for sale?" I blushed. "I'm going to reach for your hand now." Taking my hand he looked like he was reading my pulse and other vitals. "Why did you warn me that you were going to touch me." "Cause I didn't want my hand broken." "You just touched my ass and you warn me about my hand." I drawled with sarcasm. "Yeah well I had to get you moving and I knew you wouldn't see it coming. Tell me who else at this camp would even dare try to touch your backside?" "No one unless they have a death wish." "Yeah well see?" "Do you have a death wish?" "Nah but unlike everyone else, I'm not afraid of you." "Oh yeah why is that?" "Because I carried you across camp on my shoulders dangling like a rag doll. You are about the size of a pack of gum." "Oh yeah, short jokes?" "Well I'm sure you have a nice store of blonde jokes you can battle back at me with." He winked. The wink sent a jolt up my spine and made my face flush. "I'll take your blush as a lack of blonde jokes. No worries I know them all!" "Great." "Well we are going to eat now so sit up." Sitting up he had some fruit and oatmeal for me along with a square of ambrosia. Tossing the ambrosia back first I tasted lemon cello cookies. I tried to eat but found it difficult. The apples felt like glass in my mouth. Will saw me struggling with the food. "Hey uh how about we try something else?" "Sure that would be great." Returning ten minutes later after he took the food, he had a large glass of pinkish purple liquid. "It's called a smoothie. " Taking a sip I could taste blackberries mixed with banana and strawberry. It was heavenly. Perfect texture. " I put protein powder in it. Maybe we should think about doing these to put some weight on you before moving into more solid foods." "How did you know?" "Percy. He told me you went through Tartarus. Chiron said he knew a few guys who went through it. Not many escaped alive. He said there is nothing to eat there. He also said that it tricks you into thinking you have food when you don't and you are not really eating what you think you are eating." "Yeah. Something like that." "So until we can get your stomach straight we will do these. No worries we can switch up flavors." "Thanks Will." "Yeah no problem buddy." He ruffled my hair causing me to curse at him in Italian. "Oh none of that now! You were being so good!" "That was before you started treating me like a Labrador that took his treat nice." "Ok no petting you. I think within a month we can have you filling out those tshirts of yours nice. You have a great body already you just need a little weight." "Is this what our friendship is going to be? You and I bickering and making lewd comments about my body?" "Awww did you just call us friends!" "No no no! That's not what I said!" "You did, you totally did!" "Nope you misheard me, my English isn't great." "Your English is fine. Well except how you say my name but I find it kinda charming." "What's that supposed to mean?" "You don't call me Will you say Weel. It's adorable!" "I am not adorable!" "You bickering about it just makes it's more adorable." "I hate you." "What was that? I didn't hear you?" "Oh so English isn't working here I'll help you! ti odio-Italian Daikirai- Japanese ich hasse dich- German je te deteste- French That enough for you or shall I continue?!" "How many languages do you speak?" "Eleven" "Wow! Where did you learn them?" "I would shadow travel a lot ending up in different countries. You pick things up." "That's actually really cool. Would you be willing to come translate when we get new demigods that don't speak English?" "Oh uh yeah sure that's fine. I didn't really think you would want me in here after I'm discharged. The aura of death isn't great in a place of healing." Will sat on the bed and took my hand. Wills hands were strong and warm. Callused over from training and healing. My heart began to race as he touched me. What was wrong with me!! "Death is a natural part of life Nico. I understand that. I've seen more death than most demigods. I was in the last war. My brothers died. Many died under my hands as I tried to bring them back. I'm roughly the same age as you. If people don't understand that then.. well screw them." Wills face was serious and had this little V that formed when he frowned. "Don't frown Will." "Sorry." He tried for a small smile. It was cute. CUTE!! What was this dude doing to me! I snatched my hand back quickly only leaving him chuckling. The rest of the day Will would come in and out of my room. Jason brought me some clothes from my cabin. Sitting with me on the cot we played cards for most of the afternoon. "So how's the vacation?" "I wouldn't call this a vacation. I can't travel for a month. After that I'm thinking maybe a real one would be nice. Maybe Jamaica. " "You hate the sun." "Yeah well maybe I've been in the dark to long." "Sounds like Goldie locks is rubbing off on you." "I don't know what you are talking about. And you are Goldie locks in my head." "Aww you have a nickname for me in your head!" "Why is everyone doing that!?" "Doing what?" "Doing the Awww Nico likes me bit." "You like me!" "Shut the fuck up Grace!" "Language Nico!" Wills voice chimed in as he walked threw the partition. "I seriously need to rid my life of blondes." "Oh gods Grace what did you say to him." "I did the awww Nico likes me thing." "Yeah I did that when he called us friends." "I did not call us friends we are not friends!" "We are so friends, we are best friends." "Yeah we'll go fish best friend." I said with acid dripping from my mouth. (Later that night...) Wills POV I heard thrashing from the back corner of my infirmary. Running back I realized it was Nico. The IV I had him on came loose in his sleep! Shit! A nightmare! Plugging his IV back in his arm I started to rush his hair back out of his eyes. Nico dreams in Italian it seems from the mumbled words coming from his lips. Soon he started to settle, maybe even waking up a little. "Will..? Is that you." He said sleepily not even opening his eyes. "Yeah it's me. Your IV fell out but I put it back." I whispered. "Oh good... will you stay with me incase he comes back?" " Yeah sweetie I'll stay." I took his hand. I know it seems presumptuous to call him sweetie but I was tired and I was used to scared patients. They like endearments when they are scared. Nico must have been sleep talking because he didn't even budge at my words. I took his hand clasping it in my own. Fingers long and thin like a piano player or a violinist. More scarred and callused than any warrior I've treated. Honestly he is probably the most broken of anyone I've treated. Asleep his name fit him perfectly. Angelic was the only word. He has those big heavy lidded eyes and pouty lips that drive me crazy. I've had it bad for this boy for years now and this may be my only chance to indulge in this kind of contact. Soon I fell asleep still holding his hand. Day three Nicos POV I woke up with something hot in my hand, almost burning compared to my naturally low body temp. Wills hand. I almost snatched it back until I realized he was asleep. Hmmm he's a quiet sleeper even sitting up in the chair? I allowed myself a few moments of daydreaming. Will was really attractive. I hated to admit that but he was. Also he wasn't afraid of me the way others were. I liked that. I pushed him away countless times yet, bam here he is holding my hand. I tried to remember how this could have happened.... the nightmare! My IV fell out that's right! Did I? Did I ask him to stay? I did. Shit! Well to late now. I circled my thumb across his palm. Smooth and even. Not scarred like me. I've seen him with his shirt off at the beach once before too. Will was smooth and unmarked everywhere. Perfection if there is such a thing. Why was I feeling this way it's not like we haven't spent a bunch of time together. We have only really interacted like five or so times before this. Of course that just made me realize how much I have noticed him in the past. Looks like I have a thing for nice tans and light eyes. Never really liked blondes but on someone like him it looks really good. Reminded me of his father but less selfish. Will was upbeat and humble. Qualities that are worth prizing. Will Solace should be shadow boxed and put on display. Damn this is worse than Percy. Stirring in his seat I decided to play possum so I could still hold his hand. Closing my eyes I stayed still listening to his movements. Instead of bringing his hand back he rubbed his thumb over my knuckles. Readjusting his hand he laced our fingers and began rubbing small circles on the tender flesh of my inner wrist. The motion was doing things to me. When I was little I remember this being a very forward gesture. A man would flick the button of s woman's glove open and caress the veins of her wrist. It was the equivalent of putting your hand up a girls blouse in public nowadays. I may be wrong... but I think he might like me.