#battle of the garbage heap

[mygeekcorner]

『劇場版ハイキュー!! ゴミ捨て場の決戦』予告／2024年2月16日(金)公開

Haikyuu trailer

[fanwarrior321]

HAIKYU MOVIE TEASERRRRRRRRRRRRRR

[ella390-the-potato]

New Key Visual for Haikyuu!!: Battle at the Garbage Dump

[leoppipi]

Congrats on movie release!!!

[rayofsun936]

love seeing all the posts about haikyuu movie now that it is out internationally, i am once again reminded on the hows and whys haikyuu is so loved. the overall consensus that the movie was a phenomenal movie between the soundtrack and animation and sound design and camera work the movie was stunning and gorgeous and got the love it deserved. the way everyone enjoyed it to the fullest and still laments the could have beens if it was a season, but still very happy with what we got through the movie. its just such pleasant feeling reading everyone else's posts about the movie in how great it was and how that one scene in the end blew everyone away, be sad about the coach backstory missing and other bits-and-bobs and their favorite parts of the manga being cut out or given little to no screen time, but still very thoroughly enjoy the movie and wanting to see it again and are excited for it to be available for purchase or streaming. seeing how people took their non-haikyuu friends to the movie and how the movie peaked their interest in the show and manga. i just love seeing everyones excited posts about finally having their ticket to see the movie. the follow up posts after they do see the movie. its such a joyous expression of love of our shared interest and i am overjoyed in getting to be apart of it. in conclusion, Thank You Haikyuu, Thank you Furudate, Thank You Haikyuu Fans for such a Wonderful and Fantastical experience

[hammerhai]

#haikyuubookclubweek7 - battle decided!!

i love love love kenma's intensity during the last couple of points scored but nothing gets me more than this:

it's not really about who wins or loses (even though that means the end of high school volleyball for the third years) but about playing together and having fun 💕

although they're all hyped to compete in an official match against each other, they play exactly like they would if it wasn't in some huge arena and just at their local gym. because if it's those guys, they always go all out. to both teams, it's not about the outcome of the game but more about the actual process I think 🙈 love that for them ❤️❤️❤️

kenma 👀👀👀 and classic fukunaga 😂

i don't know what it is about this panel but hinata not realising the game has come to an end and needing to actually look at the scoreboard, to take a minute and grasp that they have won, they get to move ahead, they'll be able to play more volleyball,,, just not against nekoma anymore,,, yeah. i'd guess he might be a little sad, too.

alright okay one of these wasn't in the actual chapter and just a ""bonus"" but i'd like to not only focus on the obvious similarities ofc (which were undoubtedly intended), most notably the almost identical composition and the way they're kind of mirroring each other, but also on one being in bold (is that the right term?) and the other just a sketch feels like it's symbolism for the ones who get to keep on playing and the ones who have to retire... lmk if this doesn't make any sense haha

one of the best games fr 💖

[thenewgirl76]

It's In My Blood

Okay, random idea centered around halfas that I just had to share.

What if besides death followed by resurrection via a source of ectoplasm, a human-ghost hybrid could also be created She Hulk style. And by that I mean the old school comics. Not that spiteful heap of garbage masquerading as a tv adaptation made by that toxically bitter hack Jessica Gao.

This can be applied to whatever hero/villain you choose, I'm going with Batman. Mostly because I haven't seen many half ghost Bruce Wayne posts.

Anyway, the scenario starts off with Alfred finding Danny roaming the streets in search of food due to running away from foster care. (Jack and Maddy left him there in the hopes of keeping him safe from the GIW after Wes finally succeeded in outing him to all of Amity) And through lots of gentle coaxing convinces him to let Alfred take him home.

Eventually Danny gets so attached he readily agrees to being adopted into the Wayne family by Alfred. Once enough trust has been built overtime to share identities Gotham automatically gains a new protector.

Then the further establishment of new relationships is suddenly interrupted by a full-scale alien invasion, requiring all hands on deck. Though all the heroes manage to hold their own for the most part it quickly becomes clear they may not win this battle if they don't find something to turn the tide in their favor.

They get that something in the form of Phantom rallying all his ghost allies/frenemies to join the fight. With their added power the entirety of the alien army is thoroughly beaten back. But not before Batman takes a hit hard enough to cause him to bleed out at an alarming rate.

The already dire situation worsens all the more when it's discovered that Batman is a rare blood type and no one in the batclan or even the other human heroes matches. All save for Phantom. Problem is, with all that ecto mixed with his blood a transfusion could possibly poison or worse kill his big brother. Everyone is aware of this. But any other option would take too long and Batman doesn't have much time left.

So with bated breath and reluctance Phantom gives his blood. For a few scary minutes it looks like Batman might be showing signs of rejection. But then he slowly begins to stabilize, giving the medical team much needed breathing room to get him properly tended to.

While Bats may be on the mend no one's relaxing just yet. And not for a lack of trying. It's just a little hard to be chill when Mr. Dark and Broody has started randomly going invisible or intangible, speaking with an echo, levitating over his bed, and overall become creepily unsettling to look at. Especially with that unnatural glow in his eyes.

[rokhal]

Resident Evil 7 Biohazard whatever is an amazing portrait of the impact of methamphetamine in the rural US. Everything from the textures to the design of the environment to the story itself.

I guess, as an American, I should be used to living in a media panopticon where everyone knows how we talk and what our houses look like, but the Baker estate is not like a movie set or an influencer's home. There's real clutter, the kind that accumulates when you haven't moved cross-country in over ten years and your kids have grown up: kennels for cats who've lived and died, tool boxes, riding mowers, plastic bags full of plastic bags, pool toys. The age of the house shows, not just in the dated wallpaper and cupboards, but in the glimpses we get through the crumbling walls of construction techniques that have been obsolete for eighty years. The pegboard as wallboard. The cludged-together, homeowner-grade repairs of railings and staircases. The immersion is total. This could be any rural home I've ever visited whose owners lost the battle against entropy.

Houses on cheap land can get big. Real big. The Bakers appear to have inherited a plantation house, but there's a lot more on the property. It's perfectly normal to build a mother-in-law apartment and park a trailer in your backyard when you've got the land. Code inspector? What code inspector? You don't need no stinkin' permits. You're not gonna sell, and if you do, the buyer can figure out what they want to do with your wobbly deck.

You own the house and you've got no neighbors to complain about their property values. If you've got money, you trick out your garage. Get a lift. Get a hoist. Fuck it, dig an oil pit. You can do it! That's your man shed. Build some racks out of hog panel and hang all your tools in some haphazard arrangement that makes sense only to you. You've got to be your own mechanic if you want to keep your vehicles running.

Then there's the Baker family themselves. They were nice. Normal. Probably voted for Trump, but so did everyone they know. Of course they'd take pity on a nice white woman and a little girl begging for shelter, they're not animals. Jack was ex-military and pushy; Marguerite was socialized to stand by him whether or not he treated her well; Lucas was an amoral genius who couldn't make it in the real world; Zoe was at least prepared to fly the nest but either she'd tried and had to retreat, or she hadn't quite gotten up the nerve.

By the time we meet them, Jack and Marguerite are caricatures of themselves. Violent, paranoid, impulsive, irrational, moody. They can barely even function. Marguerite's kitchen is swarming with cockroaches and flies, and Jack's outbursts destroy the furniture and walls of the home that he was once proud of. The areas where Jack and Marguerite live are heaped with garbage bags, dimly lit, and filthy.

Every time we meet Lucas, he's wired as hell. Lucas seems hyperfunctional, constructing his elaborate traps and escape rooms, except he can't make the details come together. He lines the walls of his areas with white plastic sheeting, but the mold creeps through the seams anyway. He doesn't bother to change the codes on his padlocks. He toys with Ethan and banks on Ethan being too dumb to shove a bomb through a conveniently placed hole in the wall.

Zoe can still be reasoned with, but we see her fears in her diary. We see the tinfoil taped over her window to block the light.

Lucas, Jack, and Marguerite exhibit behavioral changes consistent with early, chronic, and long-term methamphetamine abuse. Their house bears the same marks of frenetic remodeling, ambitious yet ill-conceived design choices, repetitive behaviors, and neglect that scar so many homes occupied by meth addicts.

Meth is like other drugs in that it rewires the brain to promote drug-seeking behavior, but it also over time causes the brain to atrophy. Signs resembling dementia or schizophrenia eventually occur, accompanied by cognitive decline, and much of this is permanent. It becomes harder for the user to fight back against their dependency (against Eveline) the longer they use the drug (the deeper Eveline's mold works into their bodies).

This is an American horror story, it's a familiar American horror story, and it's a love letter to our country from Japan that seems to me to say, "We're so sorry about what you're going through. Here, shoot some mold-monsters about it."

[arendaes]

7!

Ok...in my defense this part is what I thought of first when I read the prompt was "Silent Fury". Unfortunately this led more to fluff than anything else 😅 Mild Dance of Masks spoilers below!

7. Silent Fury (Ariadne/Woljif, 821 words)

See that dent in his horn? That's my work.

The guard’s irksome brag rang in her head as Ariadne watched the crowd form around Woljif's stall. How often had her fingers run over that dent? How many times had she idly wondered which of his many mishaps had been the cause? Now that she knew the truth, she regretted she hadn’t thought to ask. It would’ve been better to hear it from his lips, rather than that horrid little man’s puffed up prideful boasting.

As she stood there, silently fuming, Woljif held up the crux of his con. A simple circle of iron, rusted over and indistinguishable from anything else one might find in a garbage heap. The tale Woljif spun around it was far-fetched, but he had the bravado, and personal history, to back it up. The skeptical looks of the guards - all of whom deserved a good fleecing, in her opinion - were slowly melting into awe as Woljif wove a tale of a magical artifact that could heal all their aches and ease all their woes.

But just as quickly as the grift came together, it all fell apart with a few well-placed words.

“You’re really ready to part with such a thing? To one of us? And to think, I didn’t think you’d change for the better…” It was the former warden, the only one she’d thought might have been slightly sympathetic, though Ariadne had still had to fight back laughter of her lover’s past antics.

“Change? Who? Me?” Woljif blinked at the woman several times. Even from her vantage point, Ariadne could see his fingers tighten around the chain link.

“Haven’t you? You’re offering us this rare and special item instead of keeping it for yourself.” The other guards nodded, though their focus seemed more directed at the artifact and less at the sentiment their fellow was expressing.

“Yeah, of course!” Woljif was trying his hardest to regain his composure, but it seemed to be a losing battle. He couldn’t bring himself to look his targets in the eyes anymore as he continued, “I’ve changed for the better, so I’m offering you this…this…”

He had no problems meeting her eyes across the alley. Damnit…why’d he have to look to her for moral guidance now? This was one of those times she would’ve been glad to see a scheme of his come to fruition, but judging by the look that had settled over his face, Woljif had decided he knew what her answer would be to his unspoken question.

“You know what? I’ll keep it for myself! You guards don’t deserve it!” And with that, Woljif threw the link into one of the many boxes stacked around him, then proceeded to loudly make a show of closing his stall. “Disperse! We’re closed! It’s all for me!”

Three of the guards mumbled discontentedly, glaring daggers at Woljif before wandering off. The warden, however, merely looked on with clear, bright eyes. When she saw Ariadne approach, she gave both of them a small, subtle nod. “You can’t fool me, Woljif Jefto. You’ve changed, for the better.” The ghost of a smile played on her lips as she turned and walked back in the direction of the square.

Woljif huffed, sheepish gaze sliding to her. “I dunno what came over me, Chief. I just…I just realized I didn’t hold a grudge against those fools anymore.”

“That’s good, isn’t it?” Ariadne asked, stepping closer and wrapping her arms around his waist. She felt him bristle slightly, as he always did whenever she or Daeran roped him into a public display of affection. But it only took a moment for him to relax, one arm wrapping loosely around her as his other rubbed at his eyes.

“I guess. It’s just…what a good story I wasted on that piece of iron!”

“I know!” Ariadne giggled, debating if she should voice her next thought. Deciding to throw caution to the wind, she added, “I was actually enjoying watching you swindle them, if I’m being honest. I wouldn’t have minded if you’d gone through with it. They deserved it.” She leaned back far enough to see his horns, running her fingers lightly along the dent there. She wondered if he even remembered it was one of the guards he’d just been talking to that gave it to him, or if that memory was lost in the sea of injustices big and small he’d faced at the hands of Kenabres’ city guard.

“Wait, seriously?” Feverish excitement lit up his eyes. “Well, let’s get ‘em back here! That old geezer was rubbing his back somethin’ fierce, and -”

“Moment’s passed. Let it go and accept you’re a better man for it.” Before he could protest, she leaned up, pressing a kiss to his lips. He melted into her, pulling her closer to him, all thoughts of cons and righteous retribution forgotten for the time being.

[kimbapisnotsushi]

it's the fact that kageyama apologized to hinata for that very last toss during the interhigh match with seijoh. the fact that it wasn't the first last toss kageyama probably wanted to apologize for. the fact that whatever kageyama wanted to say both times was denied, rejected, cut off, shoved back down his throat without mercy, without kindness and consideration — they won't let him look back and linger, they won't let him regret, they won't let him bear the burden of being the one at fault if it means he thinks trusting them was a mistake.

and so kageyama swears to make a toss he won't have to say sorry for, he swears to make a toss fitting of his position as a setter, a toss that shows how much he's grown and how much he's learned and how much he trusts and loves his team, and then battle of the garbage heap happens and the lights are bright and sweat soaks his skin and each breath comes hard and fast and stabs his chest like a knife with every rise and fall but finally — finally, he thinks — the opening is right there, a sun breaking through the clouds, a moment of clarity he cannot possibly miss, so he raises his hands —

— and hinata jumps with a sonic boom that makes the ground shake, or maybe it's just kageyama's heart seeing a promise fulfilled, and kageyama, for all the things he had to carry and for all the things others carried for him, knows that he will never apologize for having faith ever again.

[meara-eldestofthemall]

Hello again bat-gran 👋

I appreciated your answer on the Robins situation, it intrigued me.

How would you have written Damian/where would you like his writing to go?

Poor Damian is simultaneously the Batfamily character with the most potential and the worst possible character development. If you go all the way back to his introduction it was fairly clear that readers were supposed to loathe him. He was an arrogant and rude little princeling with a chip on his shoulder the size of Cleveland.

Damian was such a brat that he even managed to exhaust Alfred's patience, which is a real feat considering the man raised Bruce.

Everyone knows that in his later interaction with Tim in this issue (Batman #657) Damian proves what a superior person he is by killing the first criminal he came across. He then tossed the decapitated head, (with a grenade in it's mouth) at Tim to make a point.

The most important thing to take away from this is that Damian has been raised in a cult that operates on the same upward mobility scheme as the Klingon Empire. In order to get ahead, you kill the person in your way. That' s exactly what Damian tried to do.

Damian was originally conceived as an anti-hero at least and a full blown villain at worst. He was supposed to be a great source of angst for Batman to darkly brood over for years. The only problem was that about half of the fandom loved hyper-violent, rude and nasty Damian. DC now had to figure out how to redeem him enough to work with Batman.

They actually did come up with a method that worked. During Battle For The Cowl Damian saved Tim's life in a very Damian way.

This was the moment that could have changed everything. This is where I would have had Damian reluctantly (very reluctantly) allow the idea that maybe his father's way of doing things had a tiny bit of merit after all. To be honest, I wouldn't have changed much of the Dick Grayson Batman and Damian Wayne Robin arc. You had a much sunnier Batman with Robin as the grim dark little gremlin a lot of people loved. Damian actually showed some positive character development without losing the edge that made him popular.

What would I have changed? This...

All the progress Damian made was unceremoniously tossed onto the garbage heap. The moment the kid got angry with Tim he went right into assassin mode and tried to kill him - again. Worst of all, there were no real consequences for his actions. Instead we're supposed to sympathize with the fact that Damian's feelings were hurt.

The impression left with the reader is that Damian maybe got a stern to talking to from Dick but that was about it. It does not help the conversation above seems to lay the blame on Tim for not having a stronger password.

This is the crux of the problem that followed Damian for years. DC seemed to actively undo any positive character development to keep him static. Damian was not allowed to be anything other than rude, arrogant and hyper-violent. He worked abysmally with Bruce's Batman, so much so that it set in stone the idea that Bruce was incapable of being a good Dad to Damian. Damian's character waffled between hero, anti-hero and kind-of-sort-of villain repeatedly. Not too long ago they were setting him up to be a bad guy yet again. Remember when Damian had his own private prison and then resigned from being Robin?

Why would DC continually do that to a character with so much potential?

What I would do with Damian is what we're now seeing. He went off and had his obligatory Robin-right-of-passage adventure on a mysterious island. Damian came back a better character. His relationship with Tim is improved enough that they still bicker dreadfully but are actually more like brothers.

I really like what I'm seeing in Batman and Robin. This is how Damian should be written. He's still got his edge and doesn't suffer fools well but he's working towards a positive future.

So, if you'll forgive this pedantic old Bat-Gran, my point is that what I want to see, what I as a writer would do, is keep him more on the path of the current Batman and Robin series and less of what we see in the current Batman series.

Most of all I would write Damian consistently, not vary the basics of his personality from book to book. That is the cardinal flaw that has always plagued DC.

Who I want Damian to be is a young man who is just beginning to discover that he can choose his own future. My version of Damian can honor his heritage but still move forward into the best version of himself. He can be someone who, perhaps like many teens, has no idea what he'll be in ten years but does know that it's a path he chooses for himself, not one forced on him by either the Waynes or the Al Ghuls.

I just hope I live long enough to see that. I'm already 67 so I hope DC stops messing around gets to it, please.

So, are you sorry you asked?

[lola-la-cava]

May The Best Bass Player Win

gif not mine !

Bass Player Reader x Kyle Scheible

Warning: Smoking and Language

_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

“But we already have a set list!” Stevie exclaimed as I stood back, tired of their shit.

It had been weeks of arguing over the set list, the outfits and the tuning of the instruments. Honestly who could blame them? It was the Battle of the Bands.

Your average person from Sacramento wouldn’t give two shits about it, but to the kids who would collect Classic Rock records and CDs, taught themselves how to play the keyboard or guitar, and snuck out to watch local bands play at bars? It was everything.

I was one of those kids. Well, I am.

The battle of the bands was an opportunity to be seen, to be heard particularly by a big shot producer. We’d been working towards it since we formed the band. A lot of hours, blood, sweat and tears had been put into practicing, getting gigs, writing, revising, you name it.

And now we were here. It hadn’t even been five minutes and Ziggy and Stevie were already at each other’s throats. If you asked my opinion, I would rather they stuck their tongues down each other’s throats. It was crystal fucking clear this wasn’t about the setlist.

“Look, if we want to impress the judges and a producer that is bound to be in the audience we should sing Annotated Book” Ziggy said as he rubbed his forehead out of frustration. “It isn’t ready yet! How many times do I have to fucking tell you!” She fought. At this point, everyone backstage was staring at us. Well, them.

I sighed, “You know what, you guys figure this out. I need a smoke break”. “Really? Again?” Layla, our drummer, whined. ‘Don’t leave me here with them’ she mouthed as I pushed the heavy backdoors.

The exit lead out to a seedy alley where there were puddles from the rain and the pipes (and other mysterious liquids) and heaps of garbage bags thrown carelessly against the wall which stunk to high heavens. This will have to do for now.

My calloused fingers reached for the lighter and loose cigarette in my pocket. Automatically lighting with ease as I have done before.

“Nice coat”

“Thanks. I was really going for that Penny Lane vibe”, I chuckled. The figure got closer to me as they hummed. I felt their side touch mine, “You got anymore of that?”. “Mhm.”, I nodded reaching into my pocket again.

He hummed once more. I chuckled, “What’s so funny?”. “You know you should really start rolling your own. It’s better that way”. I looked up at him. For the first time. My breath hitched.

Wow.

He looked like he came straight out of a painting. His curly hair was covering his face, but the moonlight cast down on him; making his jawline and cheekbone seen. The boy looked like he was carved carefully by the gods, they sure took their time with this one.

“I-I’ll keep that in mind next time” I said as I continued to stare at him. He’s probably been stared at his whole life. Hell, he probably thinks staring is looking.

“My name’s Kyle” he said. Oh my god, his voice. I stretched out my hand, “Y/N”. Kyle seemed surprised, “You shake hands, huh?”. I shook my head in embarassment and let out a giggle. “Apparently, I do.”

As the night ran longer and the crowd inside bigger, we talked about bands, recommending some, shit talking others, and the works. He went on about this book he’d been reading called “A People’s History of The United States”. I continued to admire him. Observe him. I observed the way he talks about things he loves so nonchalantly, but there would be that glint in his eyes or smirk on his face that shows how passionate he really is. I observed his hand fidgeting with the bottom of his jacket while his other hands hold the cigarette in between his index and middle fingers. I observed the way his unkempt hair bounces as he turns to look at me.

“So, where are you from”, I asked him; hoping he’ll get the hint. Kyle chuckled and said “I’m from East”. “Well, Kyle from East Sacramento, it just so happens I’m from there too.”, leaning in to his side slowly. What the fuck was I doing? Flirting with him like that? I’ve never done that before.

I mean, in walks this guy practically carved like a statue from the Louvre. I suddenly muster the courage to talk like that, which for the record, I haven’t been able to do with other guys I was infatuated with if that wasn’t already clear. I would hate to have ruined this perfect opportunity. This was the right decision, right? Right.

“Oh really? No shit. Well-“ “Kyle we need you back here!” Someone yelled from the entrance interrupting him.

Well? Well, what?! What was he gonna say?!

“Look, I gotta run. Maybe I’ll catch up with you later?” The curly haired boy said as he put out the cigarette. He looked at me, expecting an answer. “Y-yeah definitely!” I squeaked out.

My thoughts ran wild as I was left in the alley. “Is he really going to talk to me later?” “Was he just being polite?” “God, what I would give to touch those curls of his” “Will I have to make the next move?”

“Y/N, we’re going on in 5! Get your ass in here!”

Shit.

_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

As nerve-wracking the preparation went for the battle of the bands were, the actual thing wasn’t that bad. It went as our average band practices and gigs went. Except for the audience being around 500 people instead of the usual two drunks.

“Are you sure you tuned your bass properly, Y/N? You seemed pretty flat in some parts” Ziggy complained, chasing after me backstage. “You too, Stevie, but that’s a whole ‘nother conversation” he added with a smirk. It was obvious he was only trying to get a rise out of her, but maybe not to the band’s lead singer. My god, just make out already! “I swear to fucking god, I will gut you!” She answered back. I looked back at Layla, giggling.

Luckily, I managed to turn to the front before bumping into another person. But not just any other ordinary one.

“If it isn’t Y/N from East Sacramento” well if it isn’t the same curly haired boy i was drooling over from the alley 30 mins. ago. “Nice to see you again, Kyle” before he could even comprehend, I picked up his hand from his side and gave it a firm shake similar to the one I did before.

“You didn’t tell me you were in a band”, he gestured to the stage. I hummed and then answered “And you didn’t tell me you worked backstage”. “Not actually backstage. I’m here with my band and we’re going on next” Kyle lifted up his bass. “Ain’t that something? I play bass too” I lifted my instrument up putting it side by side with his.

I sighed, “Well, I gotta go tune this before we head back up there. Good luck with your set!”. Getting ready to walk away, he quips “Yeah you should go and do that. I thought I heard something off when you guys went up”.

I didn’t even know what I was doing. I got closer to him as we breathed in each other’s air. My head tilting to the side, next to his ear. “May the best bass player win”. Before pulling away, I made sure to brush my lip against the side of his neck. He sucked in a breath.

That’ll give him something to think about.

And that it did, when he entered late on the first verse of L’Enfance Nue’s set.

[twilightmalachite]

Poltergeist - Garbage Heap Sketch 8

Author: Akira

Characters: Madara, Natsume

Translator: Mika Enstars

Proofreader: Revoltrad

"« What are little boys made of? Frogs and snails, and puppy dog tails. ♪ »"

[Read on my blog for the best viewing experience with Oi~ssu ♪]

Season: Winter

Location: Maizuru House (Exterior)

Ten or so minutes later…

Madara: (Now then—There’s something strange going on here.)

(But first, I’d like to extend a greeting to the kids in the Kaijuu Group I’m in charge ooof!)

(However, they appear to be some seriously troublesome problem children… to the point that the staff at Maizuru House can’t even keep track of their whereabouts.)

(They seem to flat-out ignore the facility’s set schedule—such as meal time, bath time, and singing rehearsals—and instead do as they please.)

(To start, I’d like to find these Kaijuu Group kids, capture them, and then kindly “ask” them if they’d at least be good kids during the shooting period.)

(This miiight turn out to be a battle… Actually, yeah, isn’t this job as a nursery teacher no different than being a Pokémon trainer or a Monster Hunter?)

—Uwoah!?

Madara: (Now what’s this? A flower vase came flying outta nowheeere!)

(I deflected it with a roundhouse kick just in time, so I’m fine—but I could’ve gotten hurt, you knooow!)

Heeeey, what was thaaaat? Wasn’t that a nice greetiiing!

Madara: (…No reply, huh? Still, I can tell that they’re around here.)

(Heheh, no matter how ferocious a child may be, they are still a child. Compared to me, they still lack experience when it comes to combat!)

—Over there! Heeeey, wait a moment nooow! Don’t you ruuuun! Come show your cute faces to your nursery teacher, Mikejima-senpaaai!

(Ugh. They’re sooo quick, always running and hiding—)

(Hm?)

(What’s this here?)

Natsume: —Hm? Oh, Mikejima-senpai?

What happened out heRE? It sounded like something broKE…

Madara: All’s gooood, a vase was just suddenly thrown at meee.

Natsume: AhaHA, alreaDY? This really is a strange facility with strange kiDS, isn’t iT?

Would you like me to help you out with your work heRE? I’m in charge of the Rabbit Group, the most peaceful group of boYS, bUT…

It appears to be nap time nOW, so everyone’s sleeping soundLY. I’ve got nothing on my plaTE, you sEE.

Madara: Hm. If you’d like, a little help would be nice. I can’t find the Kaijuu Group at all, so could you locate them using your fortune-telling skills?

Natsume: I’ve been getting a lot of requests for that lateLY, and while I’m honored to be chosen as your fortune-tellER…

Are there really children out herE? This area all looks like a waste duMP—

It smells horrid and there are even sharp nails scattered across the grouND. You’d think children wouldn’t like that and would instead try to avoid iT, rigHT?

Or, do boys actually like that sort of thiNG?

Natsume: « What are little boys made of? Frogs and snails, and puppy dog tails. ♪ »

—BuT, I guess I didn’t really have a normal boyhoOD, so I’m unfamiliar with the preferences and behaviors of boys that aGE.

Madara: Ah right, because you were raised as a girl when you were little, riiight?

Natsume: Who told you thAT? The mopheAD? I told that guy not to tell anyboDY, what is he doing gossiping about the embarrassments of other peopLE?

Madara: Hmm. Back when I attended Yumenosaki, I think most of the people in my class knew about it. Tsumugi-san would often use it as a topic for small talk.

Natsume: Alrighty thEN, I’ll be extracting that mophead bastard’s liver while he’s still alive and offering it to the devIL. I can just blame it on the dangerous childrEN.

Madara: Hahaha, a nursery teacher who shifts the blame onto their children? That’s the wooorst!

But anyways, Natsume-san, look—What do you think this is?

Natsume: There’s something heRE? Oh nO, did you find something dangeroUS, like a corpse or some industrial wasTE?

Madara: Nah—I wouldn’t say it’s anything dangerous, just something a liiil’ out of place.

Look. There’s a large painting out for display in a place like this.

Natsume: Hm… Ah, you’re rigHT. I wonder wHY? I’m not sure if it’s being displayED, thouGH, it looks like it’s been just thrown away like garbaGE.

The paint on it is a bit meltED… Perhaps it was damaged in that fiRE. No, if that were the caSE, then it would be more fully burnt and in even worse shaPE…

Hm~… There’s no signatuRE. Judging from the qualiTY, I’d say it’s likely to be the work of some nameless amateUR. Hence why it was trashED.

Madara: Hmm… That might be the case, but something about it’s piqued my interest.

Madara: (What was it? I feel like I recognize the scene it depicts…)

[ ☆ ]

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[pocketseizure]

Best Wells in Tears of the Kingdom #3

The Rikoka Hills Well is located in a ruined village nestled in the foothills south of the Lanayru Wetlands. If you look down onto the flooded plains from the elevated graveyard of Kakariko Village, you can see a column of smoke rising from the well, which is the location of Moza’s Hideaway Restaurant.

The mighty Moza, equipped for battle with a pot lid and a soup ladle, will turn the Dubious Food in Link’s inventory into Monster Stew, a violently purple dish that uses Monster Extract as its key ingredient. Moza’s Monster Stew only restores five hearts, which arguably isn’t worth the ten rupees she charges. The main benefit of the transaction isn’t Moza’s food, however. Rather, it’s the colorful language she uses to express her disdain for Link’s culinary misadventures.

This is ironic, as Moza has no great skill at the cooking pot herself. In Breath of the Wild, the aspiring chef could be found at Ishto Soh Shrine in the foothills of the mountains east of the Gerudo Desert. This shrine was surrounded by towering piles of garbage buzzing with flies. The origin of these heaps of raw organic garbage was a mystery, but they served as a suitable backdrop for Moza’s misguided quest to create the ultimate dish with unsavory ingredients such a wood, rocks, and monster guts.

I have to admit that I go back and forth on how I feel about the main plots of the Legend of Zelda games, which can sometimes feel overblown and silly. What I never fail to appreciate about these games are their smaller stories, which show what Hyrule looks like in the eyes of the people who aren’t trying to save it. Does Moza care about floating castles and missing princesses? Probably not, but that doesn’t stop her from living her best life and enjoying everything Hyrule has to offer an adventurous explorer.

[rayofsun936]

!!!HELLS TO THE YES!!!

ITS FINALLY HERE!!

[yourdorkiness]

rewatching haikyuu until international battle of the garbage heap international date is released - s1ep1

(I'm not sure if I'll say something super deep while rewatching, but I'm mostly just chronicling my rewatch. I'll probably continue this after the international date is released, I just want to see how long it'll take lol.)

Seeing the first match between Kageyama and Hinata, I really appreciate how Furudate writes both deuteragonists to be loveable, compared to other manga where the two main characters start off as totally antagonistic but mellow out as the season progresses. You can see how even if they are rivals (and still are rivals despite being teammates in Karasuno), they share the same passion for volleyball and respect the players that challenge them.

One moment that really stays with me is when Kunimi (I think that's his name? The middle part guy?) doesn't put his full effort into chasing a ball that Hinata managed to get past their blockers since Kitagawa Daichi is clearly ahead and he thinks they don't need to put in their full effort. If the other team wins, it'll be a miracle. In response to that, Kageyama says: "[t]hat last point was no miracle. He scored a genuine point."

You can really tell that he (and Hinata as his foil) doesn't want to lose, that every point is important to them. Kageyama, despite getting the nickname "King of the Court" is still showing a genuine, roundabout kind of sportsmanship.

Some nice foreshadowing that I noticed on rewatch is that when Izumi messes up a set but Hinata uses his innate athleticism to reach the ball, Kageyama says "[h]ow is he there?" Thought it was a nice nod that when put together, Hinata can connect to the quicks that most players find difficult and that he'll be the first one to remind Kageyama after his team gives up on him that Karasuno and Hinata won't give up on him so easily.

Also thought that Hinata was such a good senpai to the three little first years! I thought that it was sweet that Izumi and Koji show up in season three to support Shoyo in the Karasuno vs Shiratorizawa match, but I wonder what it must be like for you to join a volleyball club in middle school as a first year, and then the next year hear that your former captain went to Nationals and is now a volleyball beast. If that doesn't motivate you, I don't know what.