#no surströmming please

[avspol]

43 and 15 now or you get more surströmming

43. funniest jojo moment?

THE SCENE IN VENTO AUREO WHEN MISTA AND NARANCIA ARE KICKING THAT GUY AND ABBACCHIO IS WATCHING SO CALMLY AND THEN IT CUTS TO HIM JOINING IN. also every time polnareffs on screen hes like my personal clown <3

15. top 3 side characters?

holly kujo because she is lovely. sherry polnareff because although we hardly see her she is very important to me and i wish we knew more about her. and tonio because well i love gay italians

[worlds-worst-ships]

Do you ship it?

Well? Whaddya say? I've always thought you were cute ;)

(I know very few of you are that stupid, but I'm not serious, please tell me everyone will read this far)

[not-quite-there-myself]

BRAIDING HAIR—GIRLS COMPILATION

Small drabbles on a master attendant who wants to braid their Food Soul's hair. How do the girls react?

Feat. Milk, White Truffle, Surströmming, Maple Syrup, Chrysanthemum Wine

Boys version here!

Reblogs are greatly appreciated!

Milk

" You want to braid my hair, Master Attendant? Of course, I don't mind at all. "

Ever the sweetheart, she has definitely let others braid her hair—of course, that includes her master attendant, too! Her hair is soft and silky, it feels like running your hands through milky goodness. It also smells faintly sweet, like vanilla. Milk sometimes offers her hair to you to play with and experiment on, as she knows that you like to braid hair. She happens to enjoy the process as much as you do, the feeling of having her hair parted and styled making her relax into your touch. She encourages you to do whatever you please, whenever you'd like. She never minds a calm moment with her dear attendant, no matter how brief.

" Have you come to see me again, Master Attendant? I'm glad, any moment with you always makes me feel happy. "

White Truffle

" Is that Master Attendant? Oh! I've never been asked that before... Please do! "

Being a researcher of science, White Truffle doesn't often encounter people who are interested in interacting much with her outside of academic affairs. Now that you are her attendant however, she's glad that that has changed. Something as intimate as touching her hair isn't something she's exactly used to, but she's open to letting you style it as she hasn't had others do it much before. Your hands, regardless of skill, weave her hair with such care that she can't help but focus on the way it feels. She finds herself smiling a little. She might work on something herself while you're there, and she might get too invested in the peace that she doesn't realize you've already finished braiding.

" Master Attendant, what you did to my hair... Thank you. In the future, could you try styling a different kind of braid for me? "

Surströmming

She has to contain her excitement and eagerness when you ask. Surströmming absolutely adores your hands in her hair, your fingers coming through the strands and weaving them together. Her hair is easy to comb through, like moving your hand through water. She doesn't care about how long it takes you to braid—her hair is quite long after all. In fact, she welcomes any chance to spend time with you, even if it's for something as small as styling hair. She loves whatever you do, really. Even clumsily strewn braids will earn a compliment from her.

" Ahh, you've braided my hair so lovingly… wait, please don't go just yet. Can I... ask you to do another? "

Maple Syrup

" If that's your wish, Master Attendant, I will accept your request without fail! Huh? It's nothing so serious? E-Even so! "

Any time you ask something of her, she's quick to accept right away, treating it like a noble quest for a knight in training. Even for something small like braiding her hair, she does whatever she can to fulfill your request; yes, even if it just means sitting still. Maple Syrup is very encouraging even if you aren't starting out. She trusts you completely and loves sneaking peeks and waiting through the process. Whatever you end up doing, she'll be happy with because she knows you took time on it and tried your best. She genuinely does not think you could disappoint her—she probably can't get disappointed by anything if it comes from you.

" Oh, Attendant! I think the braid you made turned out so cute! If you're not satisfied, please trust in your knight to sit still when you try again! "

Chrysanthemum Wine

" You want to braid my hair? I'm not someone who usually gets that sort of request... Hehe, do not fret, Master Attendant. That's not a 'no.' "

For someone who travels and fights often, it's a wonder how her long hair doesn't get in the way of her actions. Pointing this out as a guise for your real intentions, Chrysanthemum Wine gets an inkling that you want to do something about it. You hesitate when asking outright, worried that she'd say no. But to your surprise, she doesn't mind it at all. Keeping a straight posture and taking off her hat, she waits for you to start braiding. As she doesn't keep hair ties on her, you end up giving her one that stands out in comparison with her dark hair. The braid falls behind her in an elegant way, and she thanks you as she examines your handy work with a satisfied smile.

" As a swordswoman, my movements allow me not to be hindered by my hair or clothes in battle... But your braid certainly makes it easier. "

____________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ Please do not copy, repost, or translate, thank you !

[ask-agent-rapzutin-vodello]

What is the most grossest thing that any of you ever done?

[Norma] Willingly eaten one of Sam's 'culinary experiments'.

[Sam] Hey!

[Lizzie] There was that one time, when I tried this new skin scrub, and - nah, also Sam's cooking.

[Sam] Hey!

[Lizzie] Hey yourself, didn't see you there.

[Sam] Will anyone say something else, besides my cooking?

[Adam] Sorry Sam.

[Morris] Es la verdad, hermosa.

[Raz] I'll queasily remind you of the pizza with Vodka-and-Surströmming-infused sauce incident.

[Sam] Okay, I'll give you that one. But can any of you weak-stomached ingrates please say something besides my adventurous cooking.

[Gisu] I'll say something else.

[Sam] Thank you.

[Gisu] I mean, it's one the number 2 spot, but ...we can't all say Sam's cooking.

[Sam] HEY!

[Gisu] Couple a years ago, I participated in a friendly improvised competition in some farmland area I don't remember the name of. Long story short, I took a massive face-first wipeout in some freshly laid cow pie.

(Various sounds of disgust)

[Raz] Is that some sort dish?

[Norma] No, Raz, it's ...(Gestures for Raz to come closer, and whispers something into his ear).

[Raz] (Expression turns from curious to disgusted in a snap) EW!

[Gisu] (Jokingly) Still better than Sam's cooking. (Quickly runs away)

[Sam] (Knows Gisu was joking) That's it's, I'm getting out my good rolling pin and whooping some butts! (Runs after her)

[alchemisland]

Virgo Season

I’m wilding out on the dancefloor But something’s rotten in the state of Denmark That Surströmming doesn’t smell too upmarket I’ve got bats in my belfry, no cash in my attic Attic tragedies performed at Athens to please Apollo and Dionysus Blue eyes dancing like lapis Multisyllabic Tight black paints, the outline’s priapic I take off my belt like a retiring champion Like Broughton had…

[electric-sympathy]

The fact that I haven’t seen Sam fans having problems with this is the true mystery for me. The show may be treating Dean like a heavily ballooned can of Surströmming, but they’re also making Sam dumber and dumber and less and less like a human being capable of growth and rational thought too. He’s always repeating the same mistakes he learned from 5+ seasons ago and shifting wildly between stances because the writers just don’t seem to care about what’s actually in Sam’s head-- He’s just a pawn to move the soap opera forward.

And yet the Sam fans I’ve come in contact with still seem to be supporting this...? I don’t understand? All I see is people defending Sam’s current choices-- I never see them questioning why he’s been written this way in the first place in relation to previous characterization.

Have all the mature, semi-intelligent ones just packed up and left in the night already? Are we still feeling the effects of the fabled S8 mass exodus?

This is the kind of blase, I-just-watch-this-to-veg-on-the-couch-and-not-think-too-hard attitude I would expect out of the fans of a sitcom, not something people care about that they use to inform their entire online identity.

[rxdpyramidthxng]

Anonymous asked

Pyramid Head, I challenge you to try one of the world's most awful smelling foods. - gives him an opened can of surströmming -

He stares at the can for a long moment....before he uses his tongue to scoop out the contents. The food is brought into his maw and rumbles in a pleased manner.

He’s eaten far worse that makes this look like a delicacy.

[mochifei]

some of you asked me what the rest of my headcanons were for the part 5 characters (i got so many happy messages about korean bruno- i wasn’t expecting that wHAT) so decided to make a list! so here you all go! sorry if i typed these out wrong, please correct me if I did!

bucci gang:

bruno bucciarati: korean-italian

—korean name is kim won-shik (김원식)

leone abbacchio: italian/jewish

guido mista: afro-latino (mexican)

narancia ghirga: thai

pannacotta fugo: russian/ukrainian

trish una: italian

giorno giovanna: british/japanese (duh lmao)

la squadra di esecuzione

risotto nero: eritrean/italian

prosciutto: german/Italian

pesci: german (he and prosci are stepsiblings)

melone: swedish (he keeps a can of surströmming “for science”)

ghiaccio: malaysian-chinese

illuso: hawaiian-japanese-filipino

formaggio: afro-latino (cuban)

sorbet: korean

—korean name is geun seong-su (근성수)

gelato: dutch

unita speciale

diavolo: italian

doppio: italian

squalo: irish as FUCK

tiziano: dougla (indo-trinidadian)

cioccolata: haitian (you can’t tell me ya boi doesn’t practice that voodoo shit on the side.)

secco: mexican

carne: british

sale: irish as FUCK (squalo is his baby brother)

zucchero: jamaican

[ask-the-ff-rossi-family]

Asks are now open!

Months of planning have come to fruition. I’d like to introduce you all to the Rossi family, a human version of the Pasta Platoon and B52.

Family Members:

Angelo Rossi - Spaghetti Age: 50

Viktoria Rossi - Borscht Age: 48

Oliver Rossi - Oyster Age: 19

Benjamin (Benjji) Rossi - B52 Age: 17(18)

Ingrid Rossi - Surströmming Age: 16(17)

Sadie Rossi - Stargazy Pie Age: 15

Kimberly Rossi - Margarita Age: 14(15)

Vanessa (Vanny) Rossi - Black Forest Cake Age: 13(14)

Ask Rules:

1. Please no NSFW or inappropriate asks, a lot of characters in the au are minors. I have final say over which asks get answered, any that I find fall into those categories will be deleted.

2. If needed, comment, ask or DM me any trigger tags you’d like on posts.

3. M!A’s are allowed for max 5 posts.

4. Ship asks are fine, the only established couple at this point is Borscht X Spaghetti.

5. There is an established cannon for this AU, so keep that in mind when sending asks.

6. You can send asks for other characters not listed in the family or that haven’t already been mentioned. 

7. This blog is meant to be a safe space, so any asks or comments that contain homophobia, transphobia, racism or any other types of bigotry will be deleted,

Additional notes:

- Blood Pudding does exist in the AU, she’s just not a part of the family. I made this choice since I’ve seen some people ship her with Stargazy.

- B52 is still a part of the Dessert Delight Squad and they exist in the universe.

- Oyster is currently the only sibling in college.

- Other characters will be introduced with time just with general interactions with the family.

[askclaypollier]

CLAY PLEASE TRY CANNED RATTLESNAKE AND SURSTRÖMMING

*Clay's brow furrows in thought*

I don't know about the rattlesnake, but isn't the surströmming the-

*Klavier bursts into the room*

NEIN! NEIN! You are NOT bringing that Scheiße into this house! We won't be able to get the smell out for weeks!

*Clay blinks in surprise at the intrusion*

I uh, guess that answers my question. I thought I had seen a bunch of YouTubers trying to eat it for views and vomiting from the smell alone.

[feely-touchy]

I've made myself into a teeter-totter

An unstable scale

Unevenly planted on the countertop

Able to be toppled by a lone tator tot

Or turned into a mummy with a juice cleanse

I heard that people used to eat those too

How they were lauded for health benefits

In opposition to me

An edible death vs my sickly sweet

My need to please

When I promise that you could waterboard your fries in my tears

Taste the sugar in my grease

You could make your milkshake jealous

Bitterly

I could be your side

If you ever wanted me

Craving those empty calories

Tasting of cayenne and gunpowder

Spicy, if that's how you're feeling

Or you could keep me in the pantry

Tucked in with the Del Monte

Strange bedfellows with tuna fish and collard greens

Bookended by canned milk and black-eyed peas

Behind the cornbread

Packed in with the donation cans

Labeled "refrigerate after opening"

Only edible under high heat

Until then

Bright pink

The almondy-cyanidey crunch of a dragon millipede

In the middle

Exotic

Yet still out-of-the-tin nasty

Subjected to desperate recipes

Told that folks like all kinds of shit

Actually

Hell, people love Vienna sausages

Yet I'm ever unappetizing

The shock of potted meat

Off-colored

Moon-pale

Sweaty

A real nose pincher

The source of the stomachaches

The stencher

Sour, inarguably

But I want to be eaten

By someone palatable

Because I'm greedy

So I dice, slice, scoop, shape, and spice myself

Pawn off recipes for me to a test kitchen of apathetic students

Told that I should come with a ramen packet

Or thrown out with the rest of the waste water

How I'm surströmming

Capable of clearing any consumer of cuisine

Currating a culinary experience for canines

Even though I'm not even designer-dogfood-good

But I want to be eaten by foodies

Thought about

Discussed

Back for lunch

So I throw myself into hot water sometimes

Sautéing myself with vegetables

Carrots and onions

Couscous

Piles of garnishe

Even if there isn't enough bay leaves in the Garden of Eden to cover my shame

I want to be your guilty pleasure

[itsladykit]

Atypical Edge, if you could do anything to get back at the others for any of the japes or shenanigans they get up. All harmless fun tyoe things, I'm sure they can take it. Feel free to just go for it, I'm sure we can keep the others distracted.

Twist grins, draping himself over Edge’s shoulders. “Heh. Aw, don’ let ‘im fool ya, sweetheart; he’s not above shenanigans.”

Edge wipes his arms off his shoulders, as if wiping off dust. “I have no idea what you mean.”

“so you don’t make a special effort to try out your weirder recipes when you’re annoyed with us?” Rus asks, using his magic to lazily float mid-air.

Cheekbones faintly flushed, Edge lifts his chin. “Don’t be absurd.”

“uh-huh...so the duck blood soup?”

“Is a delicacy in some cultures I’m sure. Besides—Twist liked it.”

“yeah that one kind of backfired on you....”

“No it—! Ugh—I am always pleased when you enjoy my cooking! And I do not use food in petty acts of revenge.”

“yeah. uh-huh. what about the, uh....” His brow-bones wrinkle. “what do you call the smelly canned fish?”

“Surströmming?”

“yeah, that! you’re telling me that wasn’t revenge for anything?”

Edge opens his mouth. Then closes it. “...what’s the next question?”

[ask-agent-rapzutin-vodello]

So does Sam realize some of her dishes are considered War Crimes?

[Sam] People just don't appreciate creative, experimental and risky cooking.

[Lizzie] People don't appreciate food poisoning.

[Sam] Please, when did my food ever-

[Raz] The pizza with vodka-Surströmming-infused tomato sauce?

[Sam] ...I ...will give you that.

[Raz] Please don't! I still get queasy thinking about it.

[Lizzie] I still feel sorry for you and it's been a long time since it happened.

[Frazie] Uhm, do I dare ask?

[Norma] Let's just say that Raz ...had a tough night.

[Lizzie] That's a polite way of saying he spend most of that night hanging his head over the porcelain throne than he did sleeping.

[Sam] And I was with him the entire night. I mean, it was my fault.

[Frazie] ...remind me never to taste any of your 'experimental cooking', Sam. I may be used to the more rougher kind of cuisine, but even the Aquato stomachs have their limits.

[Lizzie] Hey, it's a lesson we all need to learn at one point in our internship here. Her normal cooking is pretty badass though.

[alandofhoneyedfruits]

ocean song [Surströmming/Rum]

summary: she waits for love on a rock in the sea.

POV second person

look i know we have SSF who is definitely a mermaid but like...let me have Surströmming as a mermaid (they call her a siren but i think of sirens as birdlike) with real sharp teeth and a heart like an ocean trench, hidden deep but almost bottomless when found, that's only ever experienced love brought forth by her charmed voice, that only wants to have it for real.

warnings: some blood, shipwrecks, vague references to near death experiences

                                                            ***

The sea always consoles.  

You return to it a forlorn bride - cheeks streaked heavy with salt and a mouth like a storm, your tongue thick with promise - and it swallows you down.  Beneath the waves, you pull the small blue flowers from your veil and let them wash into deeper, darker waters.  The sea shrouds you with thick ribbons of kelp, and you wait.

Sometimes, there is a woman in the deep with you.  She darts to and fro like a minnow, sprightly despite her size.  She peers at you through the murk of the sea, her eyes a pale yellow gleam in the twilight of the ocean, her knifed teeth snapping together like an echo of a laugh.  

Queen Conch watches you, but you pay her no mind.  She is not capable of love.  Not the way you are.

You wait.

You know the sea always provides.

The moon swells, heavy with light.  As it rises over the thin line of the horizon, the tenderhearted touch of the rays illuminate the gathering swells.  You can taste the storm coming.

You have cradled yourself in a hollowed out divot of a seaside boulder, far past the edges of the tidal pools. The sea water is flowing thicker now, swirling at the base of the boulder, a hulking mass of stone cushioned with soft beds of plush, verdant green algae.  It is slick beneath you.  You curl your fingers into it and it squelches.  You draw in a sobbing breath.

You pillow your cheek on your arm and nestle down into the hollow of the stone.  The waves crash upon it, their pattern edging towards frantic, and the kiss of the salt spray makes your lips sting.  It is the most faithful lover you’ve ever had.  

Water gurgles around you, the deluge of the rising tide.  

The moon climbs higher into the night sky, drowning out the stars in a steady halo of light.  The sea sings to you, the chill water flowing around your fingertips.  

You are half in dreams (juice bursting across your tongue as you bite into the fruit’s flesh, dripping down your chin, a thumb nudging at your lips as it wipes the residue away - a choked off breath - the golden glow of a summertime smile - slender fingers tracing soft lines of fire up your thigh - skin slippery with blood and quickly cooling) when the ship slices through the last dregs of moonlight to cast a shadow upon the horizon.  It sways with the rolling sea.  Pinpricks of light flicker on the deck.

You prop yourself up on your elbows.

For a moment, you watch as the ship passes, the white sails full-bellied with wind, gleaming starkly against the void of the sea.   It’s a fast-moving vessel despite its size.

The sea roils beneath your perch, ever-hungry.  

You sing.

The notes pour out of you like warm honey, each one flickering like a homecoming lantern, dancing across the water to reach the deckhands.   The hush falls over them quickly.  You sing, you sing, you sing, you call your suitors home to you with the melody embossed on your very bones.  

They answer - they always do, you always become their Polaris, their magnetic north - and the ship starts to turn.  

You croon to them, spilling your aching heart into the ocean’s depths.  It spreads to them like oil, glistening black on the backs of the waves. Please, you beg them, heat gathering at your cheeks as your vision blurs with tears.  Please, won’t you love me?  Won’t you let me love you?

There’s fire spreading in your lungs, but you’ve felt it before, this wildfire of pain licking through your chest, and you’ve yet to succumb to it.  The sound of your song does not break; it falls from your lips like pearls, plinking into the ocean.

The ship creaks as it draws near.  The deckhands shower you with affection, and you drink it in, letting their words soak into your skin and your poor, poor, aching heart.  

Somewhere, just under the blindfold of your song, you hear a woman’s voice snap out a command.  

The ship drifts closer, and your eyes flicker to the shadowed sea where the gravemaker rocks wait.  Their mother the sea has whittled the gravemakers into a fine weapon, one that feeds the sea’s endless hunger.  The deckhands have grown quiet, something like horror slithering across their faces.

The spell ends, and you know they will never truly love you.

You hide your face in a pillow of algae as your song twists into a wail. The fury of your tongue has the bitter taste of a curse, and the gravemaker rocks oblige. The ship tears open against them, the barnacled stones spearing deep through the hull.

That voice - her voice - comes again, and this time, it carries over the water.

It rumbles like thunder, growled low over the ship’s groaning aria of shattering bones.   The ocean sinks its teeth into the ship, sinks them in deep, deep, deep.

But you see her and you remember love.

Her hair is the color of sunshine but her eyes are the darker blue of a glacier.  Blue like cornflowers, blue like the sea on a midsummer’s day, but with unmistakable ice.   She moves like an ocean’s riptide, pulling people into the wake of her stride, her sword clinking at her side, and you have never wanted so much in your life.  She has a mouth that you are made to drink from, you are sure of it.

And like so many before her, you know that you will lose her.

You love like waves against the sand: greedy, grasping, slinking higher against a heated body and dragging them into the salt cradle of your mouth, eroding them with your undulating kisses.  You love, you love, you love, but they always seem to slip through your fingers like seafoam, to break apart in your arms like a ship succumbing to a storm.

Her ship yields to the sea.

It takes her with it.

You vomit up a hurricane of sound, the jagged notes of the song smashing against the sea.  You scream until it feels like your throat will never work again, scream until your shaking legs can’t support you.  You tangle your fingers in the fishtail hem of your gown as you curse the ocean’s greedy mouth.  The sea laps at your ankles as you wade back towards the shore as the sun rises, the orange glow of it reflecting in the outgoing tide.  

The barnacles cut into the tender soles of your feet as you pick your way through the tide pool.  It hurts, you suppose.  She has washed up on the far side of the beach.  You leave a meandering trail of bloodied footsteps through the sand.

It takes you a long, long time to process that she is breathing.

Fuck, you gasp, hands fluttering against the faint rise of her chest.  

It can’t be that bad, she says.  Her long legs shift in the sand; a low groan issues from her throat.  Feels that bad, though.

You hum, the notes rising in your throat unbidden, your fingernails cutting into your palms.

She blinks.  She closes her eyes for a moment to listen, but she doesn’t fall under the spell.  You swallow.

She opens her eyes and smiles at you - golden, gleaming, just a hint of pain tightening the edge of those lips - and you choke on air.

Let me help, you say, scrambling towards her as she attempts to sit up.  You catch her as she collapses.  She is warm and damp against you, her strong back against your soft chest, and you can feel the heat rising in your cheeks.

Thanks, she murmurs, bracing herself on you and leaning forward to rest her forehead against her knees.  There was a ship - I need to -

Rest first, you plead.  Just for a bit.  I can help.

 Just for a bit, she says weakly.  I’m Rum.

 Surströmming.  

 Surströmming, she says, her lips shaping your name like she’s tasting it.   How lovely.

 Her voice is soft, and the sodden ropes of her hair are color of fresh butter in the light of the rising sun, and you know you will love her.

[clouds-of-wings]

Sweden & Finland x Injured!Reader

I read a Hetalia fan fiction with this premise on a different site and thought the characters were pretty hilariously ooc, so I tried to write a more realistic version. Please keep in mind that this is for fun, I don’t even read/watch Hetalia, it’s just an exaggerated version of Swedish and Finnish culture and mindset as I see them. The identity of the country the reader is supposed to be shall remain secret...

Today was another difficult day to be (c/n). The larger nations loved to pick on you and steal your territory. You barely managed to get away with some bruises. You slowly trudged through the snow as you spotted a familiar house: the Nordics.

You knocked on the door and it was Finland who opened. He wasn't wearing pants and had dark rings under his eyes.

"Looks like you got... you know... beat up?" Finland said without flinching or expressing any emotion whatsoever.

"Please help me Finland!" you cried. "It hurts so much!"

"Yes." said Finland in a neutral tone, as if analyzing the situation. "Getting punched hurts. Everything hurts. I know." Silence. You looked at him expectantly. Finally he added: "I have some vodka if you want."

You followed Finland back into the house. Marco Hietala's newest solo project was playing at full volume and a single light bulb illuminated the room. You sat down on the sofa while Finland clinked with some half-empty bottles.

"Listen, could you please be more quiet with the music?" said a slightly irritated voice and Sweden entered the room, wearing pants. "Oh my personal non-universal deity, what happened to you (c/n)?" he added quickly when he saw your bruised face.

“Some bigger countries tried to take more of my land” you sniffled from the cold.

"So shocking! I did not even know that was possible!" said Finland and glared accusingly at Sweden who ignored it and brought you a bit of frozen surströmming which he pressed against your swollen cheek.

"They should not do that, that is rude." said Sweden in a calming voice. "Have you explained at them that the land is yours?" You nodded, fighting back tears.

"Maybe next time should I come with you so that we can explain it better." said Sweden. He sat on the sofa next to you and rubbed your shoulder with his free hand.

"Which country is it?" asked Finland who finally returned with the vodka.

"Russia and Germany want to divide me between them again." you muttered. Sweden gave a sigh of irritation and shook his head.

"I almost think the international law mean nothing to them." he said.

"Sniper rifle and Molotov are good for Russian invasions." opined Finland calmly. "Just bit of drugs and couple crazy Karelians. Kollaa kestää. Germans, don't know. Probably they burn too."

"Th-thank you Finland." you said with a choking voice. Sweden was still rubbing your shoulder, which was nice, but the surströmming was starting to melt. "C-can you lend me some snipers maybe? And Sweden, can you take that away?" Sweden nodded and smiled warmly, then got up to return the surströmming to its airtight box. Finland gave a non-committal "hm."

[osmw1]

Dimension Wave   Chapter 2—Herrings and Gutting

After getting my fishing rod, I headed off towards the blue section of the map.

Whaddya know? It’s water. Well, technically, the sea. I feel a little weird fishing on the sandy shores, so I found a nice bridge to cast my line from.

—10 minutes later

No bites yet. The rod’s description says that fish would be more likely to bite if there were bait on the hook, but it’ll work even without. Unfortunately, I’ve caught squat. But since I’m in a game, I get to daydream while staring off into the blue skies. The smell of the sea is flawlessly realistic. But more importantly, the calm winds and warm temperature makes this a perfect day for fishing. In any other game, the clouds in the sky don’t usually move. Even if they do, they move linearly. Here, though, it seems like everything is affected by the physics engine. The clouds scatter, the grow bigger, and they float with the currents.

“Hello, there. You have a bite.” “Oh? No kidding.”

My fishing rods gently tugs and shakes. I pull it straight up. It didn’t even take much strength to simply lift it out of the water.

—Herring obtained.

The herring went into my inventory. This Shoddy Rod really can get bites without any bait. That’s a game for ya.

“Thanks for lett—oh, you’re gone. Must’ve been in a hurry or something.”

I wanted to say thanks for letting me know, but unfortunately, I was too late. Maybe they were just passing by. In any case, I cast my line into the water again.

“A herring, eh? I think there’s a bit of herring in the cuisine of Kyoto, if I recall correctly.”

The general store had pots and pans in stock. Maybe I can cook up the fish with a cooking skill. If there’s herring, there might be sardines and mackerel too. And if I get better at this, I may even be able to catch me a tuna or seabream. I wonder what kind of tuna they have. Albacore? Bluefin? Or perhaps there’s even a whole bunch of different varieties. You know how picky we Japanese are on tuna. While I was deep in thought, the rod began to tug again.

—Herring obtained.

Another herring? I don’t really mind, but all this herring makes me hungry for one. Maybe I’ll ask Mom to cook some tonight.

… well, I’m staying over at the event hall today, but maybe tomorrow in the real time.

I wonder how much time I have left in the game. I’m sure I have at least another day or two of in-game time. But herring… there’s herring roe, dried herring, herring soba, salted herring, smoked herring. Oh, there’s even surströmming.

Surströmming. I’ve seen it on TV before, but I haven’t tasted the real deal. I heard it smells a lot, so I don’t think I’d try it on my own volition. It’d be nice to learn the cooking skill. But what’s wrong with me? All I can think about in this game is herring. I had a lot of time to think, but in the end, I still didn’t have an answer.

“I got more bites than I expected.”

Two more hours have past. I put the whole herring thing aside and ended up catching quite a bit of fish. Seven herrings, three sardines, and a horse mackerel. I don’t mean to mix game with reality, but it wouldn’t be a bad haul if this were real life. And they’re all edible, too.

“They even vary in size too, huh?”

I only caught the one mackerel, so I don’t have anything to compare it with, but the seven herrings are all different size and shapes. Some are long, some are plump. There’s gotta be rarity, quality, or some sort of standard even for herring, right? It’s gotta be the same as stuff like, say, copper. I think they were selling some at the general store. The stuff out of a mine would likely be graded on how pure it is. The purer the ore is, the better it is for arms and armor, I think. Maybe. Anyway, I’ve got me a gutting knife. Maybe I can try gutting the fish. I reach for the sheathe that’s hanging on my hip, draw the knife, and point it at the herring.

“How do I do this again?”

Honestly, I’ve never prepped a fish before, so I’ll just take a stab at it. I think I’ve gotta get the scales off first. I use the tip of my Novice Gutting Knife to scrape the herring. A few scales fling off the skin of the fish.

—Small Fish Scale ×10 obtained.

Oh, that’s a handy knife. I like it already. I think I can even do the meat and bones at this rate. Alright!

“Agh!”

I got too excited and put a bit too much power into it. I sunk the Novice Gutting Knife into the belly of the herring with all my strength. As I did that, the flesh, the bones—everything vanished without a trace. I’m inside a video game after all. It was so similar to real life up to now, this is actually a little exciting now. Anyway, I gut all of the fish caught today.

In the end, my spoils were 27 Small Fish Scales, 8 Small Fish Bones, 4 Trimmed Herrings, 1 Herring Head, 1 Trimmed Horse Mackerel, 1 Trimmed Sardine. For some reason, the amount I caught doesn’t exactly match up with the meat I got, but oh well. The number of items is nearly four times of the fish. And I’ll have you know that it takes a lot of concentration to cut and trim fish. You mess up a little and the whole thing disappears. It took me nearly 30 minutes to carefully trim the 11 fish. Well, if I acquire the skill, I’ll probably get a buff to it. Speaking of skills, it doesn’t seem like I’ve gained much. I open up my status screen.

Name/ Kizuna†Exceed Race/ Spirit Energy/ 1,300 Mana/ 65 Serin/ 0

Oh, what’s this? My Energy has increased without me doing anything. I wonder why. Ah, it’s probably due to that Energy Production skill. This one, right?

Skills/ Energy Production I, Mana Production I

Energy Production I → Energy Production II Generates 100 Energy per hour → Generates 200 Energy per hour Costs 10 Mana to upgrade

Mana Production I → Mana Production II Generates 5 Mana per hour → Generates 10 Mana per hour Consumes 0 Energy per hour → Consumes 150 Energy per hour Costs 25 Mana to upgrade

Then, I suddenly remember…

“Agh, I’ve wasted three hours already!”

I upgrade both skills to rank II. My Energy drops to 1,150 and my Mana to 30. It seems like it consumed my Energy as soon as I level the skill up. But the more I think about it, the better the fact that my Energy and Mana increases by the hour seems. Perhaps it’d be quicker to level for normal races by hunting? Hmm.

Whatever. I’m a Spirit; no other choice for me. I take a look at my skills section again and noticed that there’s Fishing Mastery I written in greyed out characters. I guess it wasn’t a waste of my time after all. Oh, and it doesn’t seem like I get a Mastery for gutting and trimming the fish. I examine Fishing Mastery I and read its description.

Fishing Mastery I All actions with a fishing rod receives a 10% buff. Consumes 100 Energy per hour Costs 30 Mana to acquire Unlock requirement: Obtain 10 items or more with a fishing rod. Upgrade requirement: Obtain 100 or more items with a fishing rod.

I barely just unlocked that skill. But if I acquire it, my Energy per hour drops down to -50. That won’t do. If I screw up just a little bit, it’s possible that I’ll drop dead. I’ll acquire the skill after I upgrade my Energy Production again. And with that, I cast my line in the water again.

“Hmm?”

The moment I casted the line, an incredible force pulled on it.

“Oh, no! Eep!”

Since it came out of nowhere and I was holding on tight to the rod, my body—this body of a girl—was pulled along. Perhaps it was a simple matter of a lack of STR, or Energy in the case of Spirits, but when I tried planting myself down, I ended up falling off the bridge.

There was a big splash and then the blub blub of bubbles as I fell into the sea. In that instant, I saw a large fish, but it disappeared almost immediately. Damn! If only I had taken Fishing Mastery! That fish that got away was big… well, big enough that I couldn’t fight it. Maybe it’s because I’m in a game, but I’m able to hold my breath underwater for longer than I normally can. I take a good look at my small Kizuna†Exceed body and get back up on the bridge.

“Whew…”

My clothes are wet. I guess that’s a given. Anyway, I looked at my items screen and then my status screen and found out that I lost 30 Energy because of fall damage, I think.

“But more important, it took away my rod…”

I think it’s normal for me to be taken aback. I never would’ve thought that I’d lose my starting money, five potions, and my Shoddy Rod in that little time.

“Hahaha… you sure have got a lot of nerve…”

That’s it.

I’mma catch you and eat you.

previously: /prologue/ /ch001/ /ch002/ /next/

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(check out the other title I’m translating—written by the same author!)