longestnight · 1 year ago
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i have looked into the dark, seen the bottom of this pit, touched its ground til it turned unhallowed and dry.
& my hands came off bloody, but that part comes after. the red streaks follow when i, and my knifesharp, blackened eye, tear open the sky.
& no one will see, but everyone will ache, every light will break, every dog and man will cry.
& you will greet the brief flash of heaven, it's the only one you'll glimpse, then quickly say just one goodbye.
(tip/support)
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formosusiniquis · 1 year ago
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today is a new day to find you - ch2
A feral tomcat, that’s what's off about Steve Harrington. Eddie has had the worst day known to man but midst all the shit and the bulls has been Steve Harrington, jumpy and skittish and skirting around Nancy Wheeler like he’s a junior again. With nothing to do at lunch but watch, Eddie thinks of Bombadil. Half-feral and half-starved, the grey tomcat that lurks around the trash cans at the trailer park has the same sideways walk and puffed up swagger that Harrington is making his way over to Wheeler with. He’s short the flicking tail but if the way he ignores the knifesharp glare being leveraged his way is any indication Harrington is definitely hiding the same giant balls in those pressed khakis.
Wheeler’s table is too far to eavesdrop on. It doesn’t stop everyone in the cafeteria from watching him and her and Byers.
The tables close enough to hear are already buzzing with the drama of it all. He’s sure at least six different versions of the conversation will be circling the school by the time the next tardy bell rings.
He said he wants her back. It's so romantic.
He called Byers a fag and told Wheeler she should get with a real man
He told her he was still lifeguard certified, god I’d let him give me mouth to mouth.
He said Barb is fine and really doesn’t get what the big deal is.
And that was before Nancy Wheeler slapped him in front of God and the Hawkins High cafeteria.
The overstuffed band table ripples like they were smacked too. They are the closest to the action, maybe the hit cleaved through Harrington and the swarm of nerds took the rest. He knows most of them, has dealt to most of them, can see the bloodlust in their eyes that they were close enough to the vicious attack on Steve Harrington. But Buckley is there, in the middle and somehow all by herself. He doesn’t know her well, but he knows they’re family. He can just tell they have certain friends in common, but then it’s written all over her shoes. She watches the scene with detached interest, there’s no thirst for violence but he can see the way she tracks the scene with a scholar’s gaze.
Steve stands stock still as Nancy flees the cafeteria. He’s not sure who he feels worse for, depending on what was actually said, he feels like it’s probably Nancy.
He’ll ask Buckley, he feels like she’ll know.
Read the rest on AO3
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jeezypetes · 1 year ago
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Everyone thinks squirrels are so good at climbing but im not that impressed. If i had tiny knifesharp claws and a big fluffy tail for balance I’d scurry up a tree and leap from branch to branch like nobody’s business
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manstoolbox · 4 years ago
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(via About Us)
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knifevendorstore · 4 years ago
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AVAILABLE FOR SALE Hello Here is handmade Damascus steel skinner knife Handle is rosewood and Damascus steel bolster if anyone wants to buy then pm me Can also make it in bulk just let me know the quantity #huntingknife #skinnerknife #knifeparty #knifeaddict #knifeshop #knifeworld #knifecommunitiy #bowieknife #knifethrowingskills #knifedepot #knifesales #knifenut #knifesharpeing #knifedesign #knifesheath #knifefight #knifehandmade #knifecollector #knifecollections #knifeforsales #knifeporn #knifegiveaway #knifeskills https://www.instagram.com/p/CMcgd3cFVSW/?igshid=q9xfx9xrjzt6
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agknives · 6 years ago
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#agknives #damascusSteel #Razor #knifeSharp #knifeSale https://www.instagram.com/p/BqlhQY4BgF0/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=c0fe4kvv8cn5
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cookingispassio · 4 years ago
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10 Best Knife Sharpener For Beginners |Top-rated Sharpener of 2021
Cutting with a sharp knife is very satisfying and easy, but picking the right sharpener isn’t. You cannot just pick one that comes first and looks good. What matters is the sharpening quality and longevity of the sharpener. To make sure you pick the ideal sharpener, there is a lot you will have to consider while purchasing one.
If you have never purchased a sharpener before, then this guide is going to help you greatly. We have come up with the 10 best knife sharpeners for beginners. High-quality sharpening, good look, and long-lasting performance, these 10 knife sharpeners offer all of these.
Editor’s Recommendation: Top 5 Knife Sharpener for Beginners from the list.
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femtopulsed · 4 years ago
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Celery V Cane Analysis: Pt 4
Last part in this series.
Pt 1
Pt 2
Pt 3
You can also read my rant about how s/jm failed with poisons here
deep inhale
Cain’s black eyes met with hers for a moment before his other arm lashed out and connected with her shoulder. She heard the crack before she felt the pain, and Celaena screamed, dropping to her knees as her shoulder dislocated. His foot met with the shoulder, and she went flying backward, falling so hard that her shoulder relocated with a sickening crunch. The agony blinded her; the world went in and out of focus. Things were so slow . .
At this point I just want to catalogue her injuries. She’s been poisoned, concussed, probably has spinal cord damage, a dislocated shoulder and soft tissue damage around that area. The fact that there is a crunch also means the shoulder has been broken another time by his kick, and her position means he probably stamped on her shoulder hard.
If you take a look at this image of the arteries in the shoulder, you can clearly see there are several major arteries around the area. The brachial artery is probably damaged or severed. Cane probably hit her clavicle or upper ribs rather than the shoulder because it’s a hard place to land a hit and not very effective, and the force of that kick combined with the force of her fall would result in the damage of all those soft tissues. This would create a hematoma and she would die of blood loss.
Cain swung his sword at Celaena, who threw herself backward—but not fast enough. She yelped as the blade sliced across her thigh, clothing and flesh ripping. Blood colored her pants. Despite it, she stood again, her face set in defiant rage.
Oh look, another potentially lethal wound. He could have potentially cut the femoral and even if he didn’t, she cannot stand up now. His blade is also embedded into her leg so he would need to pull it out of her before using it. Again there is a lack of fluidity between movements, both of them need to follow up with more attacks after they’ve landed a hit.
So he watched, in growing horror and despair, as Cain’s fist slammed into her jaw. Her knees twisted as she fell.
That comma is unnecessary, and now Celery has a fractured mandible. She’s probably upset her shoulder even more now she’s fell. 
Anyway there’s this long bit where Cane starts taunting her and she gets angry, I’ll skip that.
She let out a wordless scream that shattered through the frozen wind as she scrambled to her feet. Her pain lost in her fury, she swung at his blade with the remnant of the staff. “Good,” Cain panted, pressing her staff so hard that his blade sank into the wood. “But not good enough.” He shoved her, and as she staggered back a step, he brought up his leg and kicked her in the ribs. She went flying. 
For starters, he shouldn’t let her back up, and it would be more effective for Celery to stab at Cane instead of wasting the little energy she has left on a swing. Again, more upsetment of her previous wounds, with broken ribs as well. At this point I’m just cataloguing the damage she’s taking.
The next part there’s no combat, she just takes two more concussive blows and starts hallucinating. Oh and she gets cured from the poison by mystic spirit magic. She somehow manages to get up once again after all her injuries as well.
Cain growled as he swung his sword, making to behead her. Celaena shot forward, as fast as an arrow of Deanna. Cain’s eyes went wide as she buried the jagged end of the staff in his right side, exactly where Chaol had said he would be unguarded. Blood poured onto her hands as she yanked it out, and Cain staggered back, clutching his ribs.
A decapitation? Really? Like I know she’s damaged and should be dead but it’s so easy to dodge and duck a strike like that. Celery actually made the right move here, but she doesn’t follow up with a hit to immobilise or even kill him.
She forgot pain, forgot fear, forgot the tyrant who stared at the burning mark on her head with dark eyes. She leapt back a step and sliced open Cain’s arm with the broken end of the staff, ripping through muscle and sinew. He swatted at her with his other arm, but she moved aside, cutting the limb as well.
She should be on the offensive, and I’m not sure how effective that staff would be at ripping muscle and sinew. Cane is incredibly strong and a lot of swords have trouble ripping through heavy muscle, and Celery has only been gaining more muscle for a few weeks. He also keeps his body completely open for an attack when he’s swatting at her.
He lunged, but she dashed away. Cain sprawled upon the ground. She slammed her foot into his back, and as he lifted his head, he found the knifesharp remnant of the staff pressed against his neck.
I’m not sure what he’s using to attack if both arms are heavily damaged, and I’m unsure of how he fell over. It’s a decent ending other than that. 
So this “series” is finally over. Yay. 
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fenlock · 4 years ago
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Dream fragment: a deep red mare with a muzzle like an alligator and glowing yellow-green eyes. The moon behind her, not quite full. An open field covered in swamp night, dark green and murky. The mare pins her ears, hisses, and the scene fades.
Wake up. Remember a life, a world, shaped of and by war. Dark urban streets, even darker apartment. Window sliding open, Jag silhouetted against the cityscape. He shouldn't be here, they'll kill us both(Partners, though carefully picked and tailored to each other, can never be too close. Loyalty to the overlords, to the battlefield, must never be overridden by loyalty to another person), but he slips inside anyway and I do nothing to stop him. Skip. Walking down the streets at night, a thin disguise of patrol. He knows all of the blindspots, somehow, pulls me through alleyways and into hidden doorways under the pretense of checking for illegal activity. Never staying there long enough to cause suspicion, but stealing as many moments as we possibly can.
Skip. Walking downstairs, Aoya strolling behind with hands in his pockets. Jag further back, eye sharp. He doesn't remember the war the way that I do, but he kept the instincts. Has seen his fair share of it in this life as well. Knows a threat when he sees it. Conversation. "Are you really just here for the food?" Shrug. "Of course." Blue eyes narrowing, reflecting nonexistent flame. "Did you think there was more?" I tell myself he's just being an asshole.
Overhear later. "I think you'd better take your breakfast and head out." Jovial tone, but knifesharp smile on Jag's face, the faintest scent of ozone and almonds as space threatens to tear. "I don't like other people using my stuff." Translation: I don't like when people use my partner. Walk away.
He finds me sitting on the couch a few minutes later, munching cold pizza. Quick arm around my shoulders, a kiss on my head, as he drops beside me. "Hot Topic had places to be. Hope you aren't too disappointed." I'm really not.
Think of the red mare. Think of bible passages about red horses and those who ride them. Think about the two veiled promises of violence to happen in the past half hour.
Today may be interesting.
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meta-squash · 4 years ago
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I wrote a (non-fanfiction) short story tonight for the first time in a very long time, maybe years? I don’t know. But I’m rusty on original stories so uhhh don’t judge too harshly, I guess?
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It came to him in the night, this impossible heir to a fortune he could never understand or afford. Seventeen years old and father downstairs smoking cigars with his buddies asking loud enough to be heard over the radiator rattle, “What is that boy doing with his life and when is he going to get some sense, some street smarts, that sharpknife spark in his eye like his older brothers?”
It came to him in the dark, lying on his back in bed, staring out at the grease-yellow streetlamp slowly dimming in the sweaty haze. No sharpknife spark had ever pierced through into his gaze; it remained soft smouldering coals and he felt the hotiron glare of his father when he spoke so gentle --but-- he had felt that spark last Saturday night hopping getaway fences with brothers and their friends. Leapt a wooden wall and found himself short-breathed and staring at a dew-glittered rose garden. The shouts of men being boys rose around him but for the first time in his life he understood what the word beauty meant, felt its thorns pierce his eyes and his eyes pierce right back. If he couldn’t be sharp like his brothers, too young to be heir to his father’s crooked fortune, he’d go his own way. Steal riches in beauty instead of violence never raw enough to satisfy.
Smog-thawed lights barely noticed him in the alley as he walked a four AM wander towards that square of soft dewy beauty. Barely noticed had his life always been, curtained behind older, louder boys-growing-into-men and brushed aside by flying fists or the cold, heavy, silent gavel of his father’s gaze. The wooden wall barely felt his hands as he vaulted over and found himself again panting to touch the velveteen petals, the sandpaper-splintered leaves, the solidly mobile stem, the gently smiling threat of the thorns.
He felt every anatomical part in his fingers like a child exploring the world for the first time, eyes wide in the darkness and heart so loud in his ears he almost didn’t hear the wind rustle the laden stems or the cherry tree only a few paces away. Only something in the breeze whispered and he looked around himself, spark-eyes wild and frantic thinking somebody’s here! only it was just the wind and the devil in a single tree.
No scissors, not even a knife--god his father would be ashamed--he twisted and ripped at the supple-strong stems, hemorrhaging petals on the dirt below, sprinkling drops of blood and clots of sweet green sap across the mangled stalks. Then up and over the wall again, holding in some wild joyous laughter, stumbling home to hide the shambolic bouquet under his bed. His room smelled like roses and blood and the sickly green scent of dying flowers.
Every night for weeks, even after jobs well done, his father’s voice lamenting the warm amber state of his youngest son. Every night the slowly drooping petals under his bed saying, “Jesse boy, you’ve got a spark, he just can’t see it.”
Three times now he’d gone back to that garden, three times now in the thick darkness, eyes only for the soft petals on their impossibly thin, impossibly strong stems. Never noticing the windows of the dark house. Never noticing the slowly lightening sky.
Now there were scissors, rusted and dull from the garage and he didn’t want to think about whatever else might be dulling the once gleaming metal. Quiet, barely noticed, he leapt into the garden and into the warm accusing arms of light spilling from the open back door.
“I’ve seen you,” said the girl with the brazen hip leaning in the doorway. “Wait, don’t go. My mom’s mad. I didn’t think I’d see a boy like you stealing roses.”
“I like them,” he snapped. Sounded like his brothers before a punch-up.
“Your girlfriend might appreciate something from the store a little more, y’know.”
“They’re not for my girlfriend. I just like them.”
“Alright, don’t get worked up. C’mere, I clipped some for you.” She grinned, and it had the teeth of an animal that had only barely been tamed.
“How did you--”
“You come every week and a half. I was ready. Don’t bring those nasty things inside.”
Jesse put the rusted scissors down on the top step. Half a dozen flowers in a jar sat under the stained glass kitchen lamp. He ran a thumb across a cluster of petals.
“A boy who steals flowers,” she startled him out of the quiet, “in this neighborhood?”
“I like them.” He’s a broken record. He’s a thorn-spark sharpness thrown bare and strange in the soft peach-yellow kitchen light.
“I collected butterflies for a while. I’d unfold them and pin them to a board. Grandma said they were like living roses.” She looked up at him with a gaze half-feral, half-sweet. “How old are you, anyway?”
“Seventeen. My name’s Jesse. I’ll stop if you want.”
“No, don’t. I think it’s fun. I’m Vic. I’ll just clip them for you from now on. Less blood. More petals.”
She let him out through the front door, tiptoe whispering about the sadistic joy of her mother’s fury. Jesse felt like he’d found a bulldog with a lipstick print on her forehead, frightening and tough and lovable at once. He forgot the old scissors on the back stairs. Already a middling spectre of doom. But things get forgotten in romance, in haste.
And roses don’t last forever. Six weeks she met him at his leap over the wall. This week there are no roses left to give.
“You can kiss me instead,” she says, knowing he has wanted to, seeing every night that under his eyes are red hearts of love.
Six more weeks he plucks roses from her lips instead of her fingers. Sometimes the kitchen light rings her holy and haloed in the yard. Sometimes the moon glints wild and doglike in her eyes and off her wide white smile. A bulldog with his heart in her mouth.
He wishes he could be something more solid, like those impossibly-small, impossibly-strong stems that hold the most beautiful parts of the rose aloft.
And downstairs he can hear his father planning something, some damnation for a lost trust.
And in the night she holds up something silhouetted in black. “These are yours. Dad put them in the shed and I found them. You left them here that first night, remember?”
And downstairs they’ve got a proper skeleton of a crew. Just Jesse and his brothers. “If you can’t trust anybody else to do the job right,” Dad says, “At least you can trust family. Right?”
Saturday night, he’s short-breathed in the gloom in the back of a car driving circles through half-familiar streets. Never been on a serious job before, not like this, not with corner-blind fury like this.
“Time to scrape the velvet off ya,” Dad had said, “Start butting heads with the rest.”
He puts a hand in his pocket. Gun. Scissors. Cash. A butterfly Vic had unfolded and given to him, its wings stiff and fragile and nearly as soft as the roses. He puts a hand to his forehead and feels the gleaming sweat that darkens his hairline and shines the hearts under his eyes. He looks forward into the night but all he can see are smears on the glass. Someone switches on the radio. Someone else switches it off.
They park and get out. Main road, long row of houses lit by punctuations of streetlights in the soggy dark. The boulevard at night has the look of murder.
That’s because it knows, Jesse things, absently, dreamily, a little wild.
Someone’s pounding on the door. “Open up!” Jesse joins his brothers on the step. “We know you’re in there, open up!”
Door swings open ghostly silent on old greasy hinges. “Oh, hello sweetheart, we just need to pay your father a little visit. Mind letting us inside?”
Clocked eyes locked over silhouetted heads and shoulders, wide-eyed shock bewilderment fear, and that feral grin turned more than saccharine sweet. “Come on in.” There’s a jar of roses on the coffee table. Passing by, he can’t help but reach out and stroke the soft pink petals. Only they’re strange, flat where they should be velvety, too smooth where they should be rough. Fake.
“Sweetheart, where’s your father? We need to speak with him.”
A glance, knowing, feral, accusing, sweet. “He’s upstairs. Don’t call me sweetheart.”
Fingers grip her face but the bulldog doesn’t back down. Holds the gaze. “I call you what I like.”
Is that lipstick on her teeth, or blood?
Jesse caught in the sweep of an up-the-stairs wave, trapped between brothers each step feels like a gauntlet, a guilt trip, thorns in his palms and round his head. Something crushing into the temples of his skull. In the crowded hallway he reaches into his pocket--whatever his fingers land on first, that’ll be what he wants. At the bottom is some sort of powdery, papery fragments, sticking to the sweat of his grip. The butterfly, crumbled in the crush of bodies on the doorstep. He blinks and pulls his hand away.
“Two each to a door.” In the dark, bodies rustle shuffling shifting movement sorting out who goes where and then silence, waiting.
Vic stands at the top of the landing. A gestured conversation, making a cruel mockery of mime. Jesse’s eyes follow the pointing brother finger to his own door. She stares. Feral, frozen, and everyone knows. Viper smile, sneer, nod, that condescending ‘go on’ gesture like she’s a schoolchild that needs prompting. Four steps forward.
Her head just under his nose she smells sweet. Vanilla and jasmine and rotting flowers and old blood. She doesn’t look at him. He wants to cover his eyes.
The latch releasing sounds like a gunshot. The door swings open. One step into the room, two, and in the dim suggestion of the sickly yellow street lamp outside, her shoulders go up, maybe about to sigh, maybe about to speak up, maybe nothing. Slender shoulders, brash and feral-sweet like her hips and her eyes and her smile and he wants to reach out and grab them, pull her back and hold her close in the dark. Hide her under the bed like he hid his old stolen roses, protecting their beauty from knifesharp eyes of everyone-- everyone else. But these scissors weigh him down in his pockets, feeling small enough to fit inside his own pockets, smaller than a clot of blood or sap, smaller than a crushed butterfly.
Her shoulders go up, and someone else steps forward, two someones, one on each distant end of the distant end of the room. Two someones swing arms up black with silhouette, black with the near-silent brush of sleeve sliding subtly back, the white hint of a wrist not the right place to look for white but it’s good enough and then the entire world is flashing, crashing, the crack-boom of half a dozen guns ringing out blinding his ears deafening his sight the grating metal harsh of half a dozen knifeblade eyes staring down the sight of each perfectly manicured steel barrel, the heavy, empty thud of two bodies making the interminable-instant journey to the floor.
Someone finds a light switch in the hallway. A car alarm is screaming down the street. Jesse has not moved, one hip still leaning in the doorway, one hand still tucked inside his pocket.
He feels his eyes go all rustybladed and sore. There’s no one there, he thinks with desperation, just the holes in the doors and wounds in the floor.
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manjuhitorie · 5 years ago
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Hitorie’s various antics + bonus bursts of trivia - Mid June-July 2019
I’ll begin this long digest with news of ygarshy’s recent involvements! Because he has been dipping his toes into a few pools of waters and his bass is *chef’s kiss* precious.
It’s been disclosed that he played for the song ‘Shadow Tag’ on Ken Kamikita’s new album! Kamikita is a singer songwriter, also once known as KK, who belches out vivid vocals from his diaphragm while the substructure of skilled technique is there as instrumentals, holding it together sturdy. His songs are very thought-provoking alone, yet music isn’t his only reign as he writes scripts for his shows, he puts careful consideration into his visuals: and abracadabra! ygarshy is continuing to be supporting Wasureranne yo with concerts for the summer.Concurrent reports consist of ygarshy smiling, poker facing to hide his smile, yet his smile seeping out because of Shibata’s noble passion for music. Shibata will do risqué shouts or gatling release the word "sex" out of his mouth, when which yg will subtly sip his water in a means to dodge, or just knifesharp glare at him. I love these drunken bards. Wasureranee yo's twitter posts clips of them performing after ever show also!
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Also Wasurerannee yo with The 50 Kaitenz↑ good. June 8th was the Kankaku Pierrot x Hitorie concert, which was originally meant to be a joint show for their tour, yet was now turned into a jamboree of respects and thunder... Rie themselves were unable to attend yet Kan-ero nevertheless performed a cover of Ao, Polaris, and clenched a spiritual presence...! The cover of Ao is a tear trenchcoat I'm a trench of water... Kan-ero so good...
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I was finally able to tell Shinoda-san that “These lyrics are way too long.”. For the sake of today I had to spend the whole week sleeping on the couch, as my bed is practically buried by all the alphabet He wrote, yet still I simply want to thank him for leaving us with so many words. They’re really all so cool. I’m sorry for being unable to sing them well. Let’s meet up again soon. The photo shows a large cloth-covered bed-like surface strewn with printout papers of World End Dancehall, Montage Girl, Imperfection, and Senseless Wonder lyrics.... Because..... The setlist for Village Man’s Store’s concert on 6/13 went like this. 1. Senseless Wonder 5. Montage Girl 7. Imperfection 13. Ao Encore 1: World’s End Dancehall
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Thanks for coming to our show, “The Holy Land Pilgrimage - Village Man’s Store VS Hitorie”! Utmost love and gratitude goes out to Hitorie and all of you who made this day possible. P.S. Hitorie, cheers to doing even more with you in the future. From vocalist: Mizuno Gii. Mizugi “I sent Shinoda-san a LINE message reading “I'm going to be playing this song and this song and this song and~~... at the next show”. And normally right, you’d think someone’d reply “Sorry ‘bout making you do this” right? Yet Shinoda replied “Why’re you doin’ that many lololol” Han (drummer): “He laughed at you" After all is said and done, have y'all properly purchased 'Tsuiraku, Kurushiku wa Lucky Strike’ yet or what. It’s fire isn’t it
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((I hate(love) how Mizugi has (14 years old pun) in his profile, (63 years old) in this MV while dressing up as a slanky old man, and is actually 31 years old.)
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When is the rain going to stoppp
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There's a lot of people who dislike Weezer's Green Album but I like Green Album Is it cause the music takes such a different turn? Reply from Saito Shinya, the vocalist and producer of ONIGAWARA: The drums suddenly neatened up so it hit by surprise. Also Matt Sharp left. SND: Ahhh so it’s because of Matt Saito: Fans of their first-second album’s more squishy sound went into denial I think
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I can’t believe 'Sayonara Dake ga Jinsei da' isn’t here *The late 90's band 'Eastern Youth’ has uploaded the majority of their discography unto music streaming sites. Except for the niche EP which SND is fond of, but all their albums are cool so zipper your lips and open your eyes shuuush!
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Is Tanktop Shoutai's new video out yet They're a posse of blurred out faces with burlesque bases. Their current series is one where they dress up as Yugioh characters, roleplay them with accurate voices and cult-like enthusiasm, before the instigation of the series’ famous ~Shadow Games~ together. Which are all uhh, epic card games, yeah, like tabletop Jenga or  or Mariomaker or electric Russian roulette, pick them up like they’re Kuribos. It’s a riot.
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 I’m sure I’ve said this for the umpteenth time now but, my favorite album from syrup16g is “delayed" syrup16g are an indie band who began in 1993 and keep resurging again to pop off. With performances in Budoukan and high Oricon points on their back. This pivotal album of theres is mellow with whimpering instruments and ephemeral sounding visuals and it's really nice, thank you SND.
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Media outlets have been making misleading headlines like “A manga opposing the legalization of euthanasia”, and I bet there’s a lot of people are blindly dissing Death Harassment now Death Harassment is a comic written by Yoshida Yori, challenging the problems which could come with euthanasia, and a society which might pressure departure unto the unwilling. Euthanasia has been becoming a uproarious subject in Japan, ever since a woman fled to Sweden because she suffered brain diseases, and wanted to die while still preserving her sanity and dignity. People are now starting to welcome the prospect and yearn for a mercy fate but, please consider the demerits and the demoralization also, is the message. I translated the comic for fun also here.
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This evening as I was eating soba alone, in front of me were a middle-aged couple throwing curses at each other with sullied mouths, but by the time I finished my soba they were smiling together. I think that’s perfectly peachy. That reminds me, I ate 4 whole eggs today. I think I ate too much.
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My habit of getting the urge to play with people only at this time of the day, is really bad.  Posted at 3 AM JST.
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Yumao, also at 3~ AM JST.  Bubble milk tea for sensible people has been gaining traction on twitter but, the fact that it's not Chinese tea milk tea is the nonsense to me. There was a post about purchasing uncooked tapioca pearls at a Seijou Ishii (an exotic super market chain), and putting them inside of a convenience store bought bottle of cheap tea. Budget bubble tea.  In regards to Yumao’s comment, the Chinese oolong tea is such a standard I’m assuming he’s referring to that. Is this more flavor wars, the civil wars over various flavors of integrated foods from equal or same brands is rampant throughout Japan’s domestic history. It’s kinoko VS. takenoko etc. Why such fervor over flavor YUMA
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I gotta buy toothpaste I can’t sleep whatsoever so I thought if I drank I would get sleepy but I drank and it’s somehow backfired by revitalizing me so now I got no idea what the fuck to do, I’m screwed I’m screwed I know that feeling when your stomach is in a frenzy, too well
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I haven’t heard the term “moe” used in a while I kinda want to go heavy on it now Replies: "Shinoda you’re moe” “Shimoeda” “Your expression when you got kicked was so moe" (He was kicked by yg during SLEEPWALK ref: the 6/1 report)” “The term moe technically d- (*The definition copypasta-ed from wikipedia*).” Within a split second replies have already turned into hell so I’m putting the lid back on moe, please forgive me Damn it’s hot.
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I saw Tokyo Syoki Syodo in concert for my first time today. It was the best. I seriously thought I was gonna burst into tears. It might be a long time since I was last this excited to see a band live - it's been a long time since I even saw a concert live but still,,, I was surprised by how much of the lyrics to Saisei Button I subconsciously remembered. It just shows that Tokyo Syoki Syodo's songs are that good. They are a group who indulge in the typicality of cutesy culture, instagram filters, sparkling make-up, and all while flexing the power to whack you with whamming hard rock. He mentioned them again in his June 9th twitcast also, calling them natural and epiphanic to how bands can just be just as they are. I have no doubts that this is my top-played song these past few months. This is my anthem. -Saisei Rock, their most recent music video, check it out! I don’t even know how many years I’ve lived at this point but it’s not commonplace to find a song this great. 
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This example will only be understood by super like-minded folk, but I haven’t felt this way since I got obsessed with Sakasama Cider. 
He’s expressed countless times how much he likes this song and the artist, Gucha Gucha's, Though the story behind SND’s partiality may be ultimately uncertain, it can be easily understood from one listen. The guitarist and cofounder of the Gucha Gucha’s, Shimoyaka, borrowed Shinoda’s guitar for their first live. Chikyuu Monogatari chapter 3 uses Shimoyaka as a model.  Shimoyaka has posted porn on forums, getting banned from youtube, he was on a team with infamous Shotacon Kurage, here’s SND’s cover of Sakasama Cider playing over the team, nowadays he does retro~modern gaming livestreams or his own cooking episodes because he got kicked off a cooking show, he slipped at the Niconico Douga Game Party, he’s videos are quite civil now though Shinoda even joined him for a stream and is watching them often.  Shinoda on the July 9th live said not verbatim “When I heard Sakasama Cider and ‘Sad Delay-chan’’ live, I was amazed by Shimoyaka that he can actually make good songs. Justice doesn’t have to be one-sided~ Gucha Gucha’s are unrefined and shitty and helpless, but then they bounce back up with a sudden good song and it’s irresistible. I’m always yearning to meet those sort of exciting experiences. 
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We are people who clench our fists until our palms are red with blood, and we keep going on singing. Though we tend to forget it
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Happy birthday ygarshy!! ygarshy's birthday is on June 17th and I hope you celebrated. SND’s birthday is also on June 6th. And I Hope. If not they can still be celebrated 365/24. Because even SND had proceeded to tweet these words of celebration at…. 12 o’ clock AM June 18th. Right when the clock changed!!
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Look at this simultaneous trickery. Then Yumao RT-ed them both. I love you Rie… I love you so much...
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I liked when Brocken Jr. was hit by Prisman's rainbow shower and super fucking glowed. (Timestamp 1:38) Also Mariposa’s victory pose was freakish-, ly cool (Timestamp 3:14) Kinnikuman is branded as Ultimate Muscle foreignly, if you recognize it! This youtube video is is a short promo reel celebrating the 40th anniversary of the series, Yudetamago has been in it for the long haul and is well honored by the lords of the wrestlers.
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Wooooooooooah
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I wanna eat a negitoro bowl Raw tuna and scallions plomped on top of a bowl of rice The special issue of Kinnikuman, I didn’t think it would put me on the verge of tears like this. Chairman takes way too many goods to the table. Plus everyone is cheerfully chit-chatting about how absolutely maniacal of a character Robin Mask is. Robin Mask really is one loony mister. Most characters are weirdos on thin ice but Robin Mask is in a whole different league of weirdo so,,, Also for the 40th anniversary, an original episode was spotlighted in the 29th issue of Shounen Jump magazine. and taken for another spin! Chairman, AKA Harabote Muscle, had an emotional arc in it too. Robin Mask I'm guessing is as rambunctiously malicious as ever in it.
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The final episode of Sarazanmai had me bawling like a baby.
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A photo of the possession of Kinnikuman -Supermen Dictionary-.
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futurrrrrrrreee funnnnnnnnnnnk
I spent about 4 hours dancing alone in the club I am a party person Party people(パリピ is just ENG articulated into JP)* is a slang which means just that. It’s believed to have been originally popularized by a song called Let’s Party People from Illmania. Since then it’s curved to hold different nuances for all kinds of different people also. It can indicate ‘avid partygoers' or ’normies’ or it can just be for people who’re having a good time.
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Puuuuuuussssshhhh! An issue of 100M, an upcoming shounen manga by the author Uoto. It's bout a runner who’s world revolves around his sport and nothing other, who then meets a boy who runs only to forget the troubles of the rest of the world. The story spurts off from there. 笑顔いっぱい! https://youtu.be/QXuGweSMxUI @YouTubeさんから ときめきメモリアル キャラソング【おサカナになりたい~1000wに願いを~】~虹野沙希~(TokimekiMemorial music) https://youtu.be/rV16KgKKUi8 @YouTubeさんから YUNG BAE - Fly With Me https://youtu.be/BWgQvj0Nd_U @YouTubeさんから TenmaTenma - September https://youtu.be/6VsJgk5Qw6s @YouTubeさんから ~~~A slew of various song recommendations~~~
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People that're posting pics of ramen while talking about being on a vegan diet, and people who gang up on them both, aren't they all becoming a clusterfuck of boringness without even heed to their actions
People who were peacefully posting their favorite music until suddenly bursting blustery onto the net, ain’t that the definition of emotional instability SND are you heeding your own actions Seven-eleven when are you gonna sell microwavable mugimeshi (rice with boiled barley mixed in) Task-san (a trusty companion of all of Rie’s, and an even more lovable animator who runs most of Minaken): *Replied to SND with a photo of Seveneleven brand microwavable mugimeshi*  SND: So they do have it
As I was frying some fried eggs, it hit me, people who heedlessly throw heavy words at other people tend not to let anyone else complain about the heavy weights they themselves may put onto other people huh.. But actually that’s not necessarily true so whatever
I just recently caught up with Murata-sensei’s version of One-Punch Man but, thanks to the insanity of the quality level, Tatsumaki has gotten so sexy I burst out laughing See: ONE VS. Yusuke Murata 
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Clever folks, I’m positive you could figure out who my favorite One Punch Man characters are. There’s two of them.  The answer is King and Unlicensed Rider Oops there’s Zombieman too
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I’ve noticed that washing ashtrays squeaky clean seems to put me in a better mood The Marías - Cariño youtu.be/QHVp9xiUr9U @YouTubeさんから The Marias are soo good The 3 monkies game, the host is so cockeyed that I’m laughing out loud I think he’s talking about サルヂエ(Sarudie), a quiz show about 3 people donned in hyper-realistic monkey attire, overseeing the “homo sapiens” as they try to solve unique questions. Which are usually twists on daily life concepts, find the difference, or digesting puns on pop culture. The word Sarudie(猿知恵) itself refers to something which seems profound but is actually simple and shallow, like monkey business etc, and the hosts are spoofs of The Three Wise Monkeys, while they hooked in a lot of famous figures to be the quiz undertakers. I want the DVDs. Though if SND is talking about a different 3 monkey game then I’m oopsie-doopsie. I heard a voice for the first time in a while
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I can feel my manga-artist muscles crippling
nico.ms/sm35308083?ref… #sm35308083 #ニコニコ動画 It’s here!!!!!!!!!! Ref his tweet from earlier 'Is Tanktop Shoutai's new video out yet’. So if any youtuber works with a band on a music video then everyone’s going to assume they’re Starmie next I guess A recent cause of discourse was the twitter account A Starmie Who Wants to Quit My Band(@shhf9kr)*. It originally was suspected of being the side-account of KANA-BOOM's bassist, Meshida, due to the timing of the account's appearance and the unsettling content. Meshida had gone missing for about a week’s time, much to relief he’s returned home, but upon return he’s now taking a break from the band to heal from pressure/anxiety… Which is a huge worry in itself (On top of Alexandros’ drummer going on hiatus because of physical issues and then MONGOL800.....) though for now we only have the power ease his soul.. BUT ANYWAY - This Starmie twitter account tweeted “I’m so far gone with band work that I’ve devolved into a Starmie. ~~~~ I feel so disgusting.” on the exact same date as the dilemma. As the situation progressed the details Starmie revealed about financial problems and wage didn’t match up with KANA-BOOM, so they’ve continued to suspected to be SEKAI NO OWARI, now signing salient as someone named Ishihidari from BASEMENT TIMES, the writer of a snazzy sassy J-Rock blog and band of that same name. Shinoda here is a direct reaction to Starmie’s recent tweet under the lines of “I hate having to work with a youtuber.” Yeah SND you're 100% right, it's now on the radars of us curious critters. Why is the J-rock scene such a pain hoho. I bought new shorts but it’s chilly out today so I’m in a sort of pickle
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I tried out lo-fi hiphop style for a change of pace and I ended up making songs I get to feel like I’ve done good work as easy as fast-food, lo-fi hiphop is good Maybe this is fine, we have flowers here (The word in the insta video means "to hide from the rain")
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I don’t wanna add screentones
He used a southern accent on this, unlike his usual slurry casual city boy tone. I notice that southern JP seems to simplify the connotation of tone by omitting certain sounds or replacing them with vowels and then they’ll proceed to make the whole phrase more musical, it’s like ending your sentences with a “~” but it’s a whole accent done that way~ vowels are cute, gimme more~ Or maybe not idk It’s a hardship to even work on my manga because of my back pains, people who’ve actually wrecked their back must go through serious hell Kobayashi Doumu (*ref: later in this post): *sends SND a photo of himself hospitalized with crutches and bandages for his back* I was watching Kura-kyun’s stream but, does that guy actually still live in Aichi…? This seems like a rabbit hole I don’t want to dip my toes so I’ll take a step back but… Shotacon Kurage is a long time streamer who seems to get up to a lot of unfavorable antics. のどちんこって呼び名、いくらなんでもメチャクチャ過ぎないか No matter how you put it, isn’t the nickname “throat schlong” just a little too messed up Kids super often call the uvula part of the mouth by that nickname I don’t like the rain because I can’t go out drinking
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ボディメンテナンス怠るべからず
A post shared by シノダ (@snd_vs_snd) on Jun 27, 2019 at 11:14pm PDT
One mustn’t slack off on their self-care The drawing says “Shoulder pains”.
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シノダ「地球物語 35話 – BABYBABYの夢 – 」 | MEETIA After a 2 month break period, the 35th issue has been topped off. It’s full of all the ideas and memes I’ve accumulated over the whole 2 month span, so please if you may, take it easy on me. And please give it a read. Shinoda “Chikyuu Monogatari: Chapter 35 - Dreams of BABYBABY - meetia.net/manga/shinoda-… #meetia 
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Shiohigari, fantastic artist of 1 panel light-heavyhearted gags, girls who share their feelings and a Picasso-esque mascot named after himself. He also happens to share many interests with SND and a decade-long historic friendship with him: That part there, that’s the Robin Mask moment! During the Survivor Match for the Kinniku Throne Arc, the match against Kinnikuman Zebra and Parthenon!  SND: I’ve been exposed Trivia: ●The title "Dreams of BABYBABY” is a reference to the song by TANUKI of the same name. SND’s interest in future funk grows. ●The Chikyuu Monogatari chapter has a parallel to a Kinnikuman scene. When that manga went on hiatus for 3 months due to an illness of the author's, right in the middle of a fight scene's cliffhanger, he returned and doubled-down on it. By making the characters do this:
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And SND’s comic has this parallel:
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“Wake up!” “Please excuse me. How could I not get sleepy after being left here for 2 months….”“Are we allowed to say this stuff, I’m sorry Yudetamago-sensei.” ●Please keep having fun Shinoda-sensei.
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I made 10 lo-fi hiphop songs *They’re magnificent and they’re incoming, check his Instagram for the ongoing bonanza! https://www.instagram.com/snd_vs_snd/  Laundry is so draining  Harassment sentences are going to such extremes that now it’s as if they’re the one’s doing the harassment meow, said the kitten who’s sleeping next to me There’s not actually any kitten sleeping next to me: it’s the imaginary friends in my head
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What an article. Don’t be releasing things like this into the world. Do they have no dignity, mishandling words while trying to write about the subject of words.  Emo, in terms of usage and genre, has especially been through a lot of change. But upholding only the era you lived in and then proceeding to feel nostalgia and begrudging the next generation for being different is amazing in itself, not to mention their absolute subjectivity combined with presumptuous usage of “Us”. 
Or, so had spoke the kitten sleeping next to me... In reference to his retweet of this article: https://letters-to-you.life/emoi It’s a petty, convoluted text rebuking the masses for a simplicity and resisting the implacable evolution of language. The word “emoi” in Japan (which is super equivalent to the English "emo") is transforming from not only the emo band subculture or a descriptive of emotional experiences, but also to mean the likes of an adjective for any emotion-evoker and the author is uhhh conservative. Let us get emotional over things!! wowawa lived through all the evolution also and he’s still an enthusiastic user of all definitions of “emo” too...
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I’ve been cooking nukaduke at home recently and all I have to say is that home-cooked nukaduke is the best. 
Trivia: Yumao lives together with his super duper saikou cool mother, Yurika.
My nukaduke paste is getting better and better, and the pickles I’m making are amazing. I need to consider cutting back on the salt a bit though.
Ah nukaduke is emo
Yumao has nowset his location to nukaduke, hunger ensues
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Kobayashi Doom congrats on a good run & Congrats on the new issue #SupportForLet’sMeal
The picture shown is SND’s face was drawn in the background of Meshi ni Shimashou(Let’s have some food!), a manga by Kobayashi Doom. It’s a story which digs into the lives of a a manga artist and her assistant, who bask in the dying embryos of production and then cook meals with crazy twists or gimmicks to restore their “MP”. There’s an official sneak-peak preview of it here! It’s only available in JP though… If you like the look of it please feel free to yell at your local manga provider to officially translate it, Kobayashi Doom is someone SND is so undeniably influenced by. Especially their series Negi nee-san. A webcomic about a surreal girl drowned in surreal antics. It’s usually rooted in nonsense and that’s the grandest appeal. The visuals consist of copy-pasted collages, intricate professional art dynamics, cute girls, to stoic jokes such as “’seven eleven is an integer so seven & I is a complex number” and mostly references to mathematics or science or Jojo. The most parroted one is “Yes” “Not yes”. Also worthy of mention is that things resembling Negi-neesan’s various nameless beasts will show up as backdrop etc. in SND’s manga Chikyuu Monogatari. And most importantly here, there’s even a comic about Shinoda on that link, with the Let’s Meal characters! It reads: Madare ”Who's that?" Omega "From the band 'Hitorie',His name is Shinoda and he seems to be a zealous fan of mine, (sign reads: zealous whatever food hall) He told me he wants me to experience his recent works so he sent me the mp3"Madare “Ooh Isn’t Hitorie that [insert amazing praise here]“. Omega “Look, he’s even wearing a Negi-T (Negi-nee-san’s surreal brand) in this video” (Reference: In the Talkie Dance MV he wears this one) Woah Click-click Omega “So now, I’ve listened to it 100 times but in sheer honesty I don’t know anything about rock besides the band Ningen Isu so I thought I’d use this comic as an equivalent of an answer to him, a sort of "guess my feelings" quiz. Madare “I see you're popping your conman skill again. (You’ve even beaten me with that skill before )” “I’ve been eavesdropping. Time to cook a meal and get together with him” Omega “I like it." *The chorus lyrics to Hitorie's NAI from ai/SOlate are written on the top left corner, Kobayashi Doumu on the right, and the beastly text written next to the youkai-looking Shinoda in slide one I believe is an feisty ateji encrypting ‘For Shinoda’. SND replied to that comic too! Saying “Even insane miracles can happen huh, Doom-sensei thank you so much!! No this is seriously sick, wtf…." Q.E.D. Kobayashi Doom is strangely important for SND’s character development.
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This isn’t specifically concurrent with my current feelings but The text on the video reads “I like you I like you!l I snuck a glance at myself in the mirror and my back has a hunch far worse than I even imagined SND’s RT:  ONE BY ONE RECORDS, the indies label, is hanging up the hat after 12 years of service…. Ahhhh… Congrats and good luck on future ventures oh employees..  Key to this article is the band, JONNY. A Weezer cover/original group of which, a certain familiar chestnut-headed rock hero played for. I’ll save the stories of the explorations into that beloved dark past dungeon for another day but, yes, click that link and you’ll see, that glasses fella is a young Shinoda in the flesh.  I woke up in the middle of the night. Have a listen to this if you plan to go to bed anytime soon. instagram.com/p/BzV23p6HpRl/… Written on the drawing is “Poyashimi”, which simply means “Oyasumi (Good night)". It was originally just a misspell due to “O” and “P” being so close on standard keyboards but, it’s cute so it’s been adopted in it’s own rights. Can been paired with “Pokita (= Okita = I just woke up)” in the morning. Cute. I wanna go to the beach instagram.com/p/BzawsWGHaGg/…
I wrote MUNEYAKE but I myself don’t have any muneyake heartburn, that’s all there is to it I couldn’t make the bubble tea visible without making the emblem on the hat invisible, and just fought a weird-ass battle with this https://www.instagram.com/p/Bzh7fqRnkBQ/?igshid=1hmx49pswt6ns … “Yasumi" means like “take a breather"
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I recorded drums for Sasaki Sayaka’s song, the ending theme for 'Ultraman Taiga’. I used a big and powerful setup for this. The broadcasts start on 7/6. I can’t wait. Also Taro's son is crazy. Ultraman Taro's son is the main character of this new spinoff tokusatsu series! The ending song is called “Hitotsubishi” and will premiere along the first episode, I’ll update this if an official video arrives later, so we can listen to it! I watched the first episode of Taiga, I’m think I’m gonna cry.
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This morning a drunken me slipped while walking down the stairs, and turned into the Kinnikuman side of the Kinniku-Buster. My butt hurts. Smack down on the floor, legs aflight.
colormal’s concert was downright fantastic, everybody listen to colormal https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gJ83BZ_BIHA&feature=youtu.be
colormal, a galvanized nerd who turned his hobby into a hopping constitution for his livelihood, his quest for the alternative rock. He makes music alone and he’s namely even inspired by Shinoda’s past solo project “cakebox”. He’s bound to mention a cakebox song in his interviews, on top of a whopping list of other western or indie bands. His music itself has flows of climaxes into unfluctuating concord and it’s either guitar or guitar with pretty effects and I enjoy it SND. His filling bassist, Matsuyama, was even thrilled! https://twitter.com/mtymJb/status/1147537998898069504
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My body isn’t able to finish even the small size ramen with full toppings. “Mashi” is a trademark menu option of the chain Ramen Jiro. It’s under the lines of “Pile it up”. You can choose to pile up a bit of everything like Shinoda seems to, or you can choose from specific topping such as veggies or meats. If you ever go into such a ramen shop, try shouting “yasai mashi mashi!” or “buta mashi mashi!” for a heap of piggie. 
Tokyo Shoegazer are definite They’re an indies band who had a concert in Shinjuku that day! One of their most recent tweets draws my attention 👀 The wheat and grated yam beef meal at Yoshinoya is delectable but, the sign says the large rice portion and refills are given for free until 11 PM, but when I go there’s a fee on the large portion, how am I supposed to interpret this Reply: I work at Yoshinoya but the free portions and refills is a recent offer, the menus just haven’t been reprinted to represent it… The meal packages generally all have free refills and large rice portions. Shinoda: Thank you. Ref: their ENG menu. Feel free to use this information if you ever get the chance to go to a Yoshidora!!(?) SWEET https://www.instagram.com/p/Bznm6DTH-Gs/ I want to see Siamese Cats live They’re a definite J-rock band who have tinges of psychedelic and a sort of 80’s pop style to their music. They had an outdoor show the day before SND tweeted this, but they also have a 10th Year Anniversary Celebration concert this December. SND GO! Siamese Cats - Escape Eve (Official Video) 2018  シャムキャッツ - 逃亡前夜 https://youtu.be/5Jtd5nmI0Fc
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salad days was on Amazon Prime so I gave it a gander but it was really fucking good. The walking alone Straight Edge scene or at the beginning when everyone was partying together until strange people starting flooding in one by one and the safety of the concert went downhill Or how the terminology “emocore” doesn’t resonate at all with people who were directly associated with it at the outset.
The fact that controversy which we’re still having today has existed since the 80’s is an astonishment
 Also once the Smells Like~ MV wrought the knowledge of crowd-surfing (stage-diving) upon the world, and then the crowd became a flood of stage-divers so much that Fugazi lost his temper, that scene was so good
The joint show with Trouble Funk, when they were reflecting on what became the final Minor Threat show, everyone was vocalizing the horrors, the turmoil of it, yet I laughed when only Ian said it wasn’t that bad
Not disregarding how these types of issues really did exist those days, ultimately the concerts and their music really are awesome, the energy and thrill everyone held was amazing
Formidable figures such as Thurston Moore and Dave Grohl are shown looking back on the past, and then pops in J Mascis with such batshit indifference that I laughed again 
Why does Ian MacKaye not have a Japanese wiki page If it draws your attention here’s the link!:https://www.amazon.com/Salad-Days-Fred-Armisen/dp/B01MAV0YAH I’m not specifically feeling emo https://www.instagram.com/p/BzqVd4wnaOX/?igshid=nhnyzm9vipdi …“emoi”
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askthecatdemon · 2 years ago
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you mean kitten hissing, which is, incidentally, not intimidating and again cute :)
*Takes a swipe at you with knifesharp claws*
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ari-riot · 3 years ago
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Postcards from Eorzea: Ishgard
[A careworn scrap of paper, nearly a circle. A faceless statue stands at the end of a bridge. The bridge stretches over some eternal void painted in angry purples and reds. Spear in hand, the stature is implacable, protective, cold as Ice. Children scuttle as bugs, hands filled with snow. On the back, in lilting Dalmascan:]
Dear Owyne and Olyffe,
white drips out the sky as so much blinding dandruff—it sears where my clothes don’t cover, trickling rivers of pain running down my bare skin—the Chill burrows deep deep in me with its razor claws—my teeth make to chatter out my skull—
they tell me I should dress less like a Dalmascan, but what, then, should I dress as?
their brume of unwanted, unnamed myste children swells around the Forgotten Knight—a thousand years of war make no people kinder—
the tavern’s fire sings for me—I make for the stairs—
some freezing things spatters with force on the back of my head—a child giggles bright as the sun glinting knifesharp off snow—another handful of cold hits me, splashing across my left shoulder—another peal of childlaughter—
surrounded, suddenly, by this mishmash of hyur & elezen myste children, all with balls of freezing white in their unwanted tiny hands—the melting cold seeps deep into where usually my blood Boils—but I—laugh as they pelt me with more—
in that corner, I see your impish smiles—Come and play, ari—
one of their TempleKnights oversees without interest—for enough coin, he would turn the other way, if I wanted to slice the children open on my blade—who would miss them?—
I scoop snow up into both my hands, packing a perfect ball—it flies at one of the children—
the Game begins—
Love,
Ari
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knifevendorstore · 3 years ago
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Hi Here is handmade 1095 Damascus Steel Chef knives Handle is Wood with brass Bolsters Comes With a leather sheath if anyone wants to buy then pm me #huntingknife #pocketknife #knifeparty #forsale #knifeshop #knifeworld #Dagger #knivesforsales #knifethrowingskills #bowieknife #hunting #knifesales #knifenut #knifesharpeing #knifedesign #knifesheath #knifefight #knifehandmade #knifecollector #leatherworks #handmade #knifeporn #chef #knifeskills #axe #gold #premiumquality #survival https://www.instagram.com/p/CRy7AqmF3ny/?utm_medium=tumblr
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ruinators-blog · 6 years ago
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𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐫  –-  julia. @knifesharpe
while   he's   not   one   for   politics   ,   the   men   he’d   met   through   hidden   secrets   had   often   whispered   of   the   president’s   daughter.   he   never   thought   he’d   actually   meet   the   daughter   of   president   sharpe   ,   but   the   hospital’s   been   bringing   him   faces   and   names   –-   as   if   giving   him   the   opportunity   to   turn   over   a   new   leaf.   it’s   unlike   him   to   make   a   change   though   ,   it’s   not   his   fault   he   was   put   behind   bars.   approaching   the   daughter   ,   he   almost   expects   dozens   of   guards   to   come   swarming   in   –-   but   nobody   comes   and   he’s   given   an   opening.               ❝   any   word   from   washington   ?   ❞
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oceaniagrey · 7 years ago
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He​ ​blinked,​ ​like​ ​a​ ​branch​ ​breaking  Eyelashes​ ​frosted​ ​with​ ​curlicues​ ​of​ ​silver  Nostrils​ ​frozen​ ​flared  Gaze​ ​stuck​ ​to​ ​the​ ​solemn​ ​circular​ ​lake   And​ ​fingers​ ​bunched​ ​like​ ​pocket​ ​fluff  In​ ​denim​ ​jeans​ ​too​ ​thin,​ ​too​ ​old.  A​ ​hood​ ​haloed​ ​his​ ​scalp  But​ ​his​ ​ears​ ​still​ ​rang​ ​with​ ​the​ ​taut​ ​tolling​ ​of​ ​the​ ​breeze  And​ ​his​ ​lips​ ​vetoed​ ​smoking​ ​by​ ​crackling​ ​with​ ​chill.  The​ ​cold​ ​steel​ ​of​ ​a​ ​lighter​ ​was​ ​knifesharp​ ​in​ ​his​ ​palm,  Nestled​ ​next​ ​to​ ​red​ ​skien​ ​veins,​ ​heartbeat​ ​pressing​ ​in​ ​slow. Toes​ ​pressure​ ​points​ ​in​ ​ill​ ​fitting​ ​boots  The​ ​sky​ ​a​ ​clean​ ​bitter​ ​sweep​ ​of​ ​blue  And​ ​dark​ ​skeletal​ ​branches​ ​spreading​ ​in​ ​the​ ​wind  Like​ ​cracks​ ​shooting​ ​across​ ​the​ ​icy​ ​surface​ ​of​ ​the​ ​pond.  Fractals​ ​forming​ ​in​ ​lungs​ ​as​ ​breath​ ​brought​ ​with​ ​it  Paintstripping​ ​numbness,​ ​endless​ ​ache  His​ ​hair​ ​growing​ ​in​ ​the​ ​airs​ ​frigid​ ​embrace  The​ ​tree​ ​sap​ ​pulsing,​ ​the​ ​ice​ ​expanding,  Somewhere​ ​underneath​ ​it​ ​the​ ​water​ ​sleeping​ ​restlessly  The​ ​sun​ ​was​ ​a​ ​pale​ ​eye,​ ​catching​ ​his​ ​own  It​ ​was​ ​low​ ​and​ ​he​ ​was​ ​late, Had​ ​stood​ ​too​ ​long,​ ​frostburned​ ​onto​ ​the​ ​bank.  The​ ​wolves​ ​would​ ​prowl​ ​soon,  Night’s​ ​fog​ ​crystallizing​ ​on​ ​their​ ​fur So​ ​he​ ​would​ ​turn​ ​inside,  Earning​ ​chilblains​ ​and​ ​watching​ ​the​ ​moon. 
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