#KKF
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009 dziś w klubie KKF przepalamy prezent od teściowej #366 #366dniwobiektywie #fajka #faja #pipe #smoke #smokepipe #KKF #klub #klubkolekcjonerówfajek #slavicman #tytoń #tobacco #macbaren
#366#366dniwobiektywie#KKF#fajka#faja#pipe#smoke#smokepipe#klub#klubkolekcjonerówfajek#spłacić#tytoń#tobacco#machałem
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drunk at the camp fire (many nights)
#Shadowheart#Karlach#bg3#when karlach is tipsy she has chat. she has banter. banter out of her fuckin eyeballs#next day shes like Um I you're fit do you want to kiss sometime again maybe ?? that'd be nice I thikknfgh - KKF kf sor- choked on.. my spi#art
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I’ll be honest, some of these are probably only gonna make sense to me but I did it. I made an Isamira Playlist.
omg you have so many great songs there 👀👀👀👀👀
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Local Football Fixtures For May 13/14.
Local Football Fixtures For May 13/14.
By Richard Beale….
The main two football leagues of the TRNC have now finished, we are now starting the “nitty gritty” end of season promotion and relegation play offs.
The bottom tier of TRNC football the BTM League 2, mostly involving teams from villages start weekend May 28/29, the Football Federation has not released details yet.
(more…)
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kkf yipee
#kokofei#yanfei x kokomi#yanfei#yanfei gi#yanfei fanart#kokomi#sangonomiya kokomi#kokomi gi#kokomi fanart#genshin impact#genshin impact fanart#genshin fanart
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FUCK MY LIOIIFFEEECFEFEEEEEE FUU UUCKCKKKKK HRUVKC FUCKF CUKK KKF CUIK FUCKKME
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uhuhuhuumh hi its me again opinion on uhm uhm ihm uh m uhrncmeckkekfkekckrkckdkkckck kkf uhm uhm croisstring (i want you to ramble pretty please /nfnf
HOOHOOHEE. OKAY!! so small hc. the reason string smiles so much in his costume
is becasue croi would always comment on how prette his smile is:3 so rhen he started smiling mor just for them !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
also before directoer died. they gave him their goggles from when they were present croi as a gift,,,
when rhey were younger and frens with croi. croi would make string a bunch of bracelets + she taught him how to make them too:3
sorruy for not rhat much hcs prettybusy rn 💔💔
#croisstring#cookie run#cookie run ovenbreak#time balance department#croissant cookie#string gummy cookie
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Can you explain to me some differences between how Pantoja approached Brandon and how Fig approached Brandon? I feel like Brandon fought a fight he didn't have to but was sucked into by some mental hangup or just Pantoja forcing it on him..... but I'm not sure. Also, I guess Dana wants them to rematch again, so what do you think about that? Should Brandon just get another title shot or should he fight amir albazi while Pantoja defends it against Royval?
I'd have to go back and watch the whole series again to be 100% sure but the only time Figs fought Moreno like Pantoja fought Moreno this time was their 1st fight. From the 2nd fight on, he was trying to be more "technical" and economical with his striking and ended up conceding wide swaths (or the entirety) of the following three fights. And had it not been for the foul, Figs would have won the first fight.
It's reductionist, but the primary difference between Figs-Moreno 1 and Pantoja-Moreno 3 is that Pantoja came to grapple. We can talk about how Figs is a better combo puncher, how Moreno has developed a solid range weapon with his fantastic jab, and how Figs was a more physically imposing fighter but at the heart of it - Pantoja saw many of the same sequences Figs saw in their first fight and instead of allowing Moreno to have a pocket boxing match (the entire time), Pantoja used the shortening of range to take Moreno down and/or get his back. Either Moreno would hang around in the pocket looking exchange hooks or he'd shell up as Pantoja to stepped into the pocket behind some offense allowing Pantoja to basically get to his hips with no resistance.
The first takedown in the third round came as Pantoja clipped Moreno, forcing him back. But the 2nd one? Pantoja, after a previous attempt, is just allowed to march into the pocket as Moreno shells up. Pantoja uses that to get the underhook and shove Moreno to the fence before turning him to the mat. First takedown in the 4th comes when Moreno catches Pantoja trying to close the pocket and Moreno pops him with a left hook. Instead of using that instance to frame and create space or initiate his own clinch exchange so that he can avoid Pantoja just bowling him over, Moreno just throws another short left hook with Pantoja's head in his chest already. Then he spends the next three minutes trying to get back up. Figs got a lot of the same looks Pantoja did in his 1st fight with Moreno, but he didn't try for takedowns. Instead Figs pushed exchanges so hard looking for the KO that he allowed Moreno (who is a savvy pocket boxer) to claw his way back into the fight by closing exchanges on strongly with Figs. So Moreno might have eaten a handful of really hard shots in the beginning of the exchange but he'd close landing one or two of those left hooks and make it look competitive.
Moreno has a great range tool with that jab and a fantastic lead hook/pivot series of attacks he can go for. But at his heart, he has a lot of Renan Barao in him. Meaning if you try to step in the pocket with him, he will meet you with a brawl. A technical/strategic brawl with good technique. But still a brawl. Unlike Barao, who was both a huge BW and an *athlete*, Moreno can't stop the takedown. His pocket game is so boxing-centric that he's there to be taken down. This was a fight he COULD have won. But, because of who he is as a fighter, he made a lot of bad decisions that cost him rounds. As a Moreno fan, I was hoping we'd see more kicks. Both to the legs and head. I thought that was going to be a way to really cut off Pantoja's momentum. But it never materialized.
Nah on the rematch. Pantoja is up 3-0 on Moreno. Do Pantoja vs Amir Albazi and have Moreno should headline a fight night against some other flyweight. Get some of these other guys high profile fights. There are basically three guys at flyweight right now with any type of cache: Pantoja (only brazilian champ atm), Moreno (biggest star), and KKF (headlined an event before, KOed popular former BW champ). And they've all fought one another. Mix and match.
Something like:
Pantoja-Albazi
Moreno-Royval 2 (sell it on the freakishness of how the first one ended)
Kape-KKF (apparently this one is booked)
Mokaev-Elliott/Schnell/Nicolau
Erceg-Elliott/Schnell
Ulanbekov-Sumudaerji/Erceg/Schnell
Also, bring back Dustin Ortiz, damnit.
I'm sure Dana is going to do Pantoja-Moreno 4 though.
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Flicker
—a short story centered around a spark—
Pairing: platonic!mattsun x reader// timeskip!kyotani x reader
Word count: 4.5-4.7k
Rating: MIA-> KKF (mattsun angst(?) to kyotani fluff)
Warnings: talks of resolving unrequited love; confessions; suggestive ending; young adult love
Pyrotechnics is not really in your wheelhouse. To be frank, it shouldn’t be in anyone’s wheelhouse considering your everyday jobs outside of this safe haven of a hotel by the sea consists of a hodgepodge of volleyball nets, clipboards, timers, and other tools of the sport. Funnily enough when your phone vibrates with group chat notifications, you realize you’re sort of looking forward to seeing the lads once more. Apparently, thanks to the randomizer, you were the one who had to procure the vehicle rental permit (and said car) to pick up the first set of travelers at the train station; someone left Iwazumi in charge of groceries because of course the one task he felt the most confident in outside of training was the food intake for everyone; Mattsukawa tag-teamed (read forced) with Hanamaki to procure the lodgings with one of Oikawa’s many, generously gifted, credit cards; as for the rest of the former team, those four, plus yourself, sent out invitations for those who would be interested in spending a few days away from the hustle of young adult life. One such response caught you off guard when you see his name (that you’ve been meaning to change since your graduation day) being added by Iwazumi on the iMessage app on your phone.
“Oh shit,” you smirk at your phone. Your fingers tap on the back of your hard plastic case when one ellipsis from Kyotani Kentaro makes its appearance known. Thinking back to the spring break of your third year, you bump into the hot-head at the beauty salon your aunt worked at. She was a colorist and at the time, you were helping keep the business up to code, but also you were used as a model for the different hair balming treatments you get done there. Kyotani walks in with his older sister while their father is busy speaking on the phone with a member of his workforce. You acknowledge the sister when the chimes go off and when she is whisked away by your aunt’s second for an ‘all around trim’, you’re left making silent conversation with the boy whose buzzcut is due for another match against the barber clippers. He stares at you, bewildered, like he’s in some spaghetti western duel to the death. You toss your head to the side, indicating the waiting area was right by the cash register. His father had politely stepped outside for a short while to handle the more intricate parts of his job. The boy is kept company by you, like he’s a toddler, yet in the quiet ambiance of a salon he feels a bit out of place. You take a piece of receipt paper and a spare pen from the register stationary deck and hand it over to him. Somehow he misses the swift work of your hands as you plop the paper on his lap.
[[Hi. :)]]
Kyotani, whose story is roughly brushed underneath the perfection of his older sibling’s bright light, is seen with hints of softened pinks emerging to the surface of the corners of his eye. He studies you like one would a work of a genius, yet he simply bites back a smile when he hears your aunt shuffle through the back area to the main floor of her shop making a mention of your name. You perk up from where you were doing a bit of restocking, a hopeful glint surrounds you when you’re tasked with taking your new friend (more like not-so-random stranger) for a cup of tea. She hands you her card along with the order for the closers who were coming in about a half hour later. Perhaps your relative could smell the start of something new, she’s always been good at that. Her track record for matches made by a first-meet are par to none, which is why when you tell her now that you’re grown about this trip, she makes a wisecrack saying, ‘be careful with soaring with the wings of Icarus lovely girl.’ Her warning was more out of a good natured place, but when she mentions the ill-fated wings, your heart wavers. Maybe at the school you both attend, Aoba Josai, you should have been more lenient with Kyotani when you found out your friends from the volleyball club would help control the nasty (in a good way) he plays.
In the present, you are sitting down with your bags packed on top of your mattress simultaneously pulling the thread that was splintered and tattered. Will it still lead to the boy you saw in the salon that day? Or will it lead to the man he’s become?
“You’re not eighteen anymore, yn,” you sigh, rubbing the back of your hands on closed eyes.
Your brain enjoys fucking with time, so here the clock back rewinds to twenty days ago, the plans for a forced vacation were set into motion by your self-appointed best friend, Mattsukawa Issei.
Why did the guy who had your back since middle school thanks to a home economics course thrusted you into his path choose to have extended an invitation to you? Short answer: “the guys wanted to catch up and hang out with you like the ‘good old days.” Long answer: “Our hot-headed rebel kouhai has had an off and on love affair with you and we’re sick of you two not getting your shit together.”
Quietly, you make your way past the sleeping bodies of the former (and current) athletes. A sea of tangled limbs from training camps you were invited to thanks to being a friend of the middle blocker, you were not that surprised to see the light on the patio. Bottles of flavored sake were piled neatly into the glass receptacle provided on the western side of the area. Against the sliding glass door, you see your reflection there being backlit by the kitchenette light: you wear a black long sleeve shirt with an oil slick design of a checkmark that hides sleeping shorts underneath; your hair is pulled back in a version of a bun you thought looked the most effortless. You mentally high-five yourself since no one else is conscious to do so at the moment. Your phone is left charging in your room (you called the master bedroom thanks to another one of those silly randomizer games online, this time it was courtesy of Mattsukawa [it was a setup and you pretend to not know it]). Unlocking the door, you slide it open with the screeching squeaking at a mid-range and you close it behind you when you step through.
Inside, the phones of the other major players in the hotel room buzz with several notifications ranging from empty threats to good luck and everywhere in between were being received and sent. Whether Kyotani or you liked it or not, this was a conversation that had needed to have transpired long ago, albeit a decade later, two yearners leap at the chance without a safety net.
There is a haze from the fog the sea gives when you carefully walk to the ledge. Your intuition tells you you’re not alone, so you ask if it’s alright with him you share the space for now. The moon shares its light for a brief moment before the clouds from the east begin trekking their way across the heavens.
“You’re still blonde, I see,” you try to make conversation.
“Mm,” he nods. “You’re still wearing black I see.”
Beats of silence go by as the wind begins stirring through the palm trees some nine stories below. You see it the way his shoulders tense from the remnants of the shiver it leaves prickling his body. Extending an arm to him, your fingers graze along the fabric of his shirt. The texture is thin, the logo probably faded some years ago, but you recognize it simply as the shirt he wore in the last known highlight of his life: signing day.
“Y’know, I’ve watched every game,” your voice is calm as you trace over the remaining flecks of white and yellow over his collarbone.
He scoffs, a pout forms on his lips.
“It’s true,” you continue, subconsciously moving your hand higher.
Do you know what you’re doing to him right now? Do you have any idea how intimate this is for him? You’ve come from no place of malice, you did break Mattsukawa once or at least that’s how the story goes (he got into a fight right before classes started the break before starting your second year of junior high–you won that day and you still had to attend detention with him); it’s one of the many reasons of how Kyotani is enamored by you. Whatever you did in the past doesn’t stand a ghost of a chance compared to the way your acts of kindness helps him reel back to his senses of being human with you. He’s still young and hungry for victories, but his quest for acknowledgement slows to a steady beat when he sees you after one heart wrenching loss. Your words uplift an already sour mood when they arrive back to campus and all Kyotani wanted to do was slam spike after spike into a corner. Honestly, if he was told you started distancing yourself away from the team as a whole to prepare for upcoming entry exams, he’d stop loitering around the personal lockers so much with your favorite candies on autumn nights; he’d forgo watching action films with his teammates on Saturdays just to catch a glimpse of you rocking out to a Pat Benetar single EP at the beauty salon. Now that you’re here, in your late mid-twenties with him, it all feels surreal.
“Ask me,” his voice is made of grounded espresso beans, the ones that pairs well with bitter tongues.
His breath is hot when he exhales into your wrist. His russet eyes blink back at you with a hardened finesse to them you haven’t seen in a long time. Truly, this was a hell of his own design and you are a demon if you think he’d just let this slip away. Icarus had his freedom come with a price of his life, what more would a yellowjacket wasp want with the person who sees the threads of divinity retwisting itself into a narrative of young lovers?
“Ky–Kentaro,” you correct yourself mid-sentence, your ministrations continue until you kneel down to where he sits, his back is to the wall. “I won’t ask.”
“Thank fuck,” he curses under his breath, yet you hear it.
A short lived, “pfft,” is felt on his cupid’s bow as he pushes himself off the wall a tad to just reach your lips. First kisses elicit a newer electric spark; there is no carillion of sounding off from hollow ground, there is just the winds and the glint of the watery borders near the sandbars. Your body works with him to make you adjust to a more comfortable position for him to keep you steady. Kyotani sitting in a child pose against the back of the wall steadily turned into a compromise of lovers’ language. You’re still harboring the lyrical storm the more you push him to tell you how long; kisses are powerful magic, or so you were warned.
Gooseflesh emerges when you feel his hands graze the exposed skin of your back when he pulls you forward. He has your undivided attention here, under connected lips which have been chapped because the thought of speaking to you creates a biting habit; your hand from before traces impossible constellations from the nape of his neck to the point where when you slightly tilt your head one way, teasing him with the canines of your mouth only to have him perforate your top lip with his. His free hand rises to slide behind your ear to hold your neck as if you’re the most precious one to him. Pristine castles in his mind’s eye were always inclusive of you; you dared him to dream a bit more when you were younger. You’re granted a bit of a reprieve when the breath runs out in your lungs. Ten minutes ago, you decided to come out here and in the next moments after that, you’re face to face with a person who has loved you–
“Ten,” you press a chaste kiss on his brow.
“Thirteen,” he says, wolfish lips turning into a wirely smile.
You’re sort of blindsided enough that you open your eyes and see his stare longingly at you. Your hands press against his chest, when the swish of his sweatpants helps create a rest place for your elbows. Thirteen times he’s wanted to confess, thirteen times he’s been meaning to call you and give you a piece of his mind; compared to your measly ten, you realize the numbers aren’t what’s important. Kyotani Kentaro exudes confidence on the court twenty-four seven; for a lifetime with you he’d gladly put his sword down to expertly show you how to live with your heart on the line.
“Yn,” the moniker given to you nearly knocked the oxygen from your bloodstream; he calls you so deftly you elicit a slight murmured hum when you hide your face on his left shoulder. His hands rub soothing lines up and down your clothed spine and your ear waits for his heartbeat to start a song.
“I’m not afraid anymore,” are the last things you hear before he meets your understanding features.
“Come what may,” you answer with a warmth you share via patting his chest with your palm. One, two, and you raise your head higher to graze your lips against his. Flickering fleeting moments like this infiltrate your senses,
Come the next day, when you pass kyotani on the way to the kitchen, you greet him good morning with a kiss on his jaw. Hanamaki raises a brow at you both before Oikawa drops the mugs on the floor, shattering them all.
“What the hell Tooru?”
Iwazumi’s stern face sees Kyotani place you in front of him, a long arm wrapped around your waist… and you’re not particularly uncomfortable, in fact if he had to guess you looked too comfortable. Mattsukawa and Yahaba run their temples as they hear their former captain and friend clean up the mess he created.
“Careful,” kyotani whispers against the shell of your ear as you begin to try to take a step forward. You hold his freehand when you are guided to step to the side; you feel his lips kiss your temple like an inside joke which came full circle just then.
“Eee!” Yahaba stumbles backwards pointing at you, he clutched his chest. To be fair, Yahaba loves for this kind of reveal, so he pulls himself together with an accusatory finger wavering between both you and Kyotani. “How? When? Really?!”
You glance back at Kyotani who’s turning six shades of flushed right now, as are you. This is not how you had wanted to spend your vacation, yet this was the best possible plausible outcome.
“Yes, they clearly confessed and got together. Can we please move on now?” Mattsukawa surprisingly had the most normal reaction. He shrugs. “Did no one else get yn’s text?”
Mattsukawa pulls out his phone from his sleep shorts to share the photo you took with Kyotani sleeping soundly against your shoulder. You’re resting your cheek against the crown of kyotani’s head and a peaceful chagrined smirk on your lips make the photo of the sunrise that much more telling.
Currently, you garner what resolve you have left, thereby intertwining your hand with Kyotani’s, guiding him outside of the hotel room. You make it a point in saying you wanted to see the boardwalk shops and if the others’ common sense rolls around, they know where to find you. Kyotani, blissfully before you leave, politely raises one finger in the air behind his back at the group. Mattsukawa’s scoffing laughter is heard in between his acknowledgement of the new couple.
Hours later, once everyone else in the hotel room calmed down, Hanamaki corners his fellow middle blocker in the living room. Mattsukawa is playing a mobile game, keeping his mind off a rather daunting circumstance. Iwazumi is on kouhai and Oikawa duty apparently since brunch, luckily leaving his other friends to have a serious chat:
“Mattsun,” Hanamaki decides to approach the couch where the funeral director is with caution. Unfortunately, Hanamaki’s intuition was a bit sharper when he notices Mattsukawa’s not playing a game at all. The phone in Mattsukawa’s hand has the gallery open, and like a bitter tasting tea, the strawberry blonde discovers a life long secret.
“Not a word,” Mattsukawa’s voice is dry and absolute.
“You should have told—” Hanamaki glances at the image of you in a party dress hugging your best friend, smears of coloring cake frosting on your noses were indicative of the house party held for his birthday two years ago.
“I couldn’t,” (compete) is the last two words Mattsukawa bluntly states.
If there is one thing Hanamaki is good at, it is comforting an old friend who’s burrowing his heart for the same person who’s side he’s been on since they were young. Unrequited love is a cruel fate, yet for you, Mattsukawa’s resolve will be tested every hour this supposed relaxing weekend would bring and he only had himself to blame. If he had spoken up sooner, would he be the one to see you smile like the nearest star? Maybe. Would his lips be the one you wait to greet you all hours of the day? Yes. This was dangerous for him and bless Hanamaki for listening to him ramble on about how fatal his love for you is.
“How many did you write Issei?”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” he sighs, leaning back into the couch’s soft and firm cushions.
The confessional letters he wrote to you time and again are stuck sitting in his luggage bag collecting dust and turning a bit more yellow from age once more.
“I know what I should do, but why would I shit on someone’s happiness like that?” Mattsukawa’s face goes sour.
“Because love makes you do some seriously fucked up things,” Hanamaki grips his friend’s shoulders shaking sense back into him. “… and I think you need to let this run its course, Mattsun. Confess on your time, but for now let’s try to make it through the weekend. Yeah?”
Mattsukawa groans before agreeing to this. Hanamaki takes his phone away before standing up, saying the others were waiting for them at the shoreline.
On the night where the weather the mostly fair, everyone has decided to have one last go at lighting sparklers. The weather has cleared up since the foggy morning, so when you choose to go with Mattsukawa into the town to pick up some fireworks and beers, you figure now is the time to ask—Hanamaki has been acting a little off, but that’s to be expected since the strawberry blonde had been failing at throwing off your scent. However, you’ve must have forgotten you were a bloodhound in another life since you say the most damning thing at the checkout line:
“Mattsukawa Issei, are you really gonna stand there and lie?”
You see how fast his shoulders squared up. His entire lax posture is rigid. Last night, you stayed awake until the early dawn with kyotani again on the balcony. You stood away from the glass doors like before, a dejavu of a few nights ago played on a loop in your head. Kyotani isn’t afraid of hearing you speak your mind, yet in between the languid meeting of your lips, he could tell something is bothering you. It wasn’t just him, the others could pick up the discordance between the other set of childhood friends that weren’t Iwazumi and Oikawa. Kyotani, whose hands are warm against your cheeks when he tilts your face up, encourages you meekly to make amends. You hug him tighter when you feel your own confidence waver. He whispers a proverb in your ear before you stand on your toes to pepper kisses unilaterally along his face.
“What makes you say that?” Both of you make a step forward after the person ahead of you conveniently walks past with a receipt.
“Because,” you help empty the shopping basket. “I’ve known you long enough to know something is eating at you, ‘sei.”
A few minutes later you and Mattsukawa are walking out of the store with the plastic bags being held in your hands respectively, he stops abruptly. A passing cat hides what he says, yet you heart him clear as day. You freeze not because of what your best friend says. You freeze because you’re not ready to hear those words from him just yet. He breaks the eye contact you have, glossy eyes turn to stare at the contents of the bag he holds. You have the sparklers and the extra lighters and he has the alcohol, but that paled in comparison to what he admits.
“Don’t apologize,” your voice is turbulent, navigating your brain and heart through this. “Never apologize for loving someone as strongly as you do Mattsukawa.”
His head snaps up to see how the distance grows shorter.
“I’ll still be on your side regardless of who I’m with, but right now,” he readies hoss mind and theoretical heart for you to deliver the soul crushing blow. “Right now, I still love my best friend for telling me how he feels… even if the timing is god awful.”
He bows his head like a child getting scolded by grandparent for reaching the sweets jar; you’re not planning on giving him the false hope he might cling on to.
“You’re going to be loved ruthlessly by me whether it or not,” you punch his chest, cursing his infernal gym routine to high hell.
“You’re not going to beat me up?” his head tilts with a sinister playful look cast at you.
“I refuse to,” You stick your tongue out at him. “Because that’s too cruel.”
“Mmhm,” you begin walking again when you feel him learning to loosen his strings on your person. The ruby ones tying your pinkies together turned into a shade of honest cobalt. And even when you return back to the hotel lobby, you sigh when Mattsukawa stands in front of kyotani like an older sibling threatening to send the blonde with one warning glance to the crematorium if you’re hurt (in any way shape or form).
As for the letters Mattsukawa’s written for you, the first ones are post marked as of December that year. Kyotani steps out of your room, asking you what you’re reading. It’s been a whirlwind off season in Sendai with him— his teammates come to know you on the nights you’re included in the family dinners. The lovers of the athletes welcomed you with open arms mostly because they’ve finally put a face to the name instead of just saying, ‘kyo’s love’ or something equally as sweet; sure enough on days where practice ends early and your job in the data entry company is done, you and him enjoy each other’s company. There are dates with flowers, sprinkled with food outings here and there if the weather is kind. Lately though, like tonight, you’re home with him coming back after an away practice match.
Kyotani leans against the awning facing you with a small grin on his face. He sees the envelope and the downturned contents. You were always a quick reader, so with a swift move of your hands, you store the envelope in the silver box behind you. Kyotani approaches with an intent to meet you halfway before picking you up in his arms. You have it ingrained in your love language with him the physical part of his love had been uplifting you after not seeing you for long periods of time. You laugh at his grumbled, “miss you”, draping your arm across his shoulders. Your legs hang off his hips where he supports you with one arm against the small of your back, the other under, behind your knees.
“Want to show me how much?” your other arm loosely rests at your side as he readjusts your position. You steal a kiss, nipping the corner of his bottom lip this time. His eyes darken supremely as his lips move away from your face to kiss your pulse points murmuring an iron forged, “mine,” into your skin. You groan tilting your head back imploring him to move this along because you just mopped the floor this morning, trying to upkeep the cleanliness of your home.
Kyotani is a man of his word. Your top is discarded along this trail to your bedroom, his mouth and teeth bruise the underside of your chest like he’s been craving this neediness from you all week.
“Room, Kentaro,” you growl into his ear before messily having your mouth covered by his.
“Not yet,” he pushes aside the loose strands of hair over your shoulder with his hand before biting you cheekily under the deep purple mark from last time. Your eyes open and close, and the grip you have leaves behind crescent moons on his shoulder, but the short lived pain is replaced with an apology on your tongue when you rest your head against his chest. His lips turn from aggressive love to softer ones little by little and though you drive him absolutely mad, he’s willing to grant you some much needed reprieve—
The hinges of your door creak a bit, but you’re too busy swallowing the moans of your name from your lover’s tongue. He tastes of airline coffee and biscotti snacks and you of an afternoon pink chai. The dinner you had made was still wrapped up in the kitchen, but you both were hungry for something more enticing. Figuring out your challenging words were about to be taken seriously, you feel him smile against your lips more.
“Still with me?” He whispers the unholy words while you are panting to keep the air circulating in your lungs.
“Always,” you rest your forehead against his.
Chuckling, he kisses the tip of your nose, causing you to scrunch your face a bit. You’re allowed this break because once you’ve picked up from where you left off, you’re pretty sure your shrewd neighbor’s would file another noise complaint. (An officer was slightly embarrassed when you answered your door in nothing but a hoodie that never hid the bruising kiss marks on your inner thighs as you turned around to lock the deadbolt again. When you told kyotani, he asked you if you wanted to frame the warning paperwork. You gave it to him for his birthday as a joke). You didn’t mean to be so loud, but when you are enlightened to how Kyotani is ruthlessly in love with you, you’re driven past the point of no return. He’s convinced (at least twice), that while with you, he’d set a couple million yen aside for new furniture for you and him because at the rate you’re both going, you’re bound to either break the bed frame or, at its most innocuous technical tenancity, you’re going to bind him to you—he stumbled across the web series you’ve been reading lately and boy did he burn the image of you conversing with a store owner about the various ropes for practice. You wink at him and Kyotani has the decency to kiss you with a rueful grin splitting his face.
Your hands tickle and prick against his hair that you’ve come to admire whether he’d be buried between your thighs or above you when he has ruined you in his own place. Kyotani does eventually remember to kick the door to your room close, eliciting a breathy, ‘behave yourself,’ branded across your brow thus setting the tentative pace for you and him.
#🌻— flying around collecting pollen—queue#sora after hours#haikyuu x reader#sora scribbles 2022#timeskip!kyotani x reader#platonic mattsun x reader
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Santokhi bewijst oud-vicepresident Ajodhia de laatste eer
Gewezen vicepresident van de Republiek Suriname en tot zijn heengaan Adviseur van de President van de Republiek Suriname, Mr. Jules Rattankoemar Ajodhia, heeft op vrijdag 29 maart het tijdige met het eeuwige verwisseld.
In verband met het heengaan van deze bijzondere Surinamer, heeft president Santokhi op 2 april het condoleanceregister getekend op het Presidentieel Paleis. Voor de oud Vicepresident was er op woensdag 3 april een staatsuitvaart georganiseerd. Er was gelegenheid tot het nemen van afscheid bij het huis van de overledene.
Ook bij KKF en Stichting de Olifant was het lijk opgebaard waarna de stoet naar het crematieoord te Weg naar Zee vertrok alwaar er met militair eerbetoon gepast afscheid was genomen van deze markante Surinamer. Het staatshoofd sprak zijn oprechte condoleances uit aan alle nabestaanden, families, vrienden en kennissen van mr. Ajodhia en wenste hen veel sterkte toe in deze droevige dagen.
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تقوم شركة تاسك بالتوظيف الفوري بدبي 2024
رواتب عالية
لايشترط خبرة
جميع الجنسيات
مزايات مغرية
التفاصيل والتقديم : https://wp.me/pcz2Eb-kKf
#recruitment #وظائف #jobs #recruiting #توظيف #careers #hr #السعودية #job #search #وظائف_الشرقية #وظيفة_شاغرة #التوظيف #وظيفه #وظائف_اليوم #وظائف_الرياض #hunting #توطين #وظائف_إدارية #الرياض #طاقات #saudi #ساعد_تتساعد #riyadh #الموارد_البشرية #بنك_الرياض #جدة #عاجل #الامارات #عمان #هام #humanresources #قطر #خبر #وظائف_السعودية #الدمام #وظائف_عمان #كلمني_عربي #السلطنة #humanresources #وظيفة #اللغة #qatar #oil #work #banque #petroleum #people #الطب #energy #الطيران #amazon #development #الصحة #markets #hotels #accorhotels #hospital #الأبحاث #egypt #airlines #oilandgas #insurance #microsoft #oilgas #university #power #pwc #middleeast #bank #canada #deloitte #medicine #aviation #الطاقة #health #education #التسويق #إدارة #الهندسة #team #investment #engineer #projects #devops #remotework #engineers #azure #design #india #management #digital #opportunities #engineering #culture #china #microservices #infrastructure #agile #java #kubernetes #software #cloud #python #network #experience #linux #docker #bigdata #softwaredevelopment #programming #sql #reference #finance
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Kindness Begets Kindness: The Inspiring Story of Three Friends - HRA, KKF, THT
Kindness Begets Kindness: The Inspiring Story of Three Friends – HRA, KKF, THT
*On Earth, Every Life Matters: Every Individual Carries a Special Quality*
In a world where kindness often seems in short supply, the heartwarming tale of friendship and altruism shines bright through the endeavours of three remarkable individuals – Hon Rasaq Ajala (HRA), AMB Harish Thavrani (THT) and Ambassador Dr.…
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MIRA ASRININGTYAS & DITO YUWONO
Lundi 29 janvier 2024 à 19h (heure de Paris)
Monday January 29th 2024, 7pm (Paris time)
@ MSH, 16 – 18 RUE SUGER, 75006 (métro Odéon ou St – Michel)
Mira Asriningtyas est curatrice et autrice, Dito Yuwono artiste et curateur. Ensemble ils forment depuis 2011 le collectif curatorial LIR, basé à Yogyakarta—un collectif en perpétuel remaniement au fil de sa réflexion sur la responsabilité curatoriale et dont l’activité se déploie dans toute l’Asie du Sud-Est, aux USA et en Europe. “Curated by LIR”, une suite d’expositions, proposées à Yogyakarta, Jakarta, Kaliurang, New York et Tapei entre 2018 et 2023, retrace ce parcours curatorial que jalonnent "Crossing Ecotones - Mountains Seen; No Mountain Being", "Rhinolophus Sinicus", "Worship to Power » ou "Dream Express: Personalized History of Mysticism"
“Of Hunters and Gatherers“, un projet au long cours associe, à l'occasion d’une exposition, de colloques et d’un site web dédié, plusieurs institutions artistiques du sud-est asiatique situées à Chiang Mai (Thailande), Bandung (Indonésie), Ho Chi Minh City (Vietnam). Le projet s’est constitué à partir d’une marche du collectif avec deux artistes invité·e·s au pied du mont Merapi, et sur les routes qui longent le bas Mekong, à la frontière de la Thailande et du Laos.
Mais chacun·e a développé une pratique personnelle. Mira, qui a terminé en 2017 (au De Appel Art Center à Amsterdam) un projet de recherche sur les modalités décoloniales et polycentriques des apprentissages et de la connaissance, a été la commissaire de nombreuses expositions et de plusieurs programmes de séminaires et colloques au De Appel Art Center (Amsterdam); Stedelijk Museum (Amsterdam); Fondazione Sandretto Re Rebaudengo (Turin); KKF (Yogyakarta); ISCP (New York); MAIIAM Contemporary Art Museum (Chiang Mai); Our Museum (Taipei) entre autres. Elle a publié de nombreux articles et essais dans des revues, catalogues, magazines internationaux comme PARSE Journal ou comme Stedelijk Studies. En 2017 Mira a lancé le projet “900mdpl“ à Kaliurang, un village situé au pied du Mont Merapi qui aborde dans toute leur complexité les enjeux post-coloniaux, environnementaux, politiques et mémoriels que la fragilité sismique de la région et les éruptions de ce volcan très actif viennent dévoiler sur un mode spectaculaire et dans l’urgence. Dito travaille les mêmes thèmes dans son œuvre d’artiste qui donne une attention prioritaire à la mémoire collective, à l’inscription des vies singulières dans l’histoire, à l’urgence environnementale —une attention toujours ancrée dans des pratiques site -specific. Il a été l’invité de The Northern Centre for Contemporary Art (NCCA) Darwin (Australie), Ruangrupa (Jakarta); Jatiwangi Art Factory (Indonesie); GOLEB & Het Wilde Weten (Pays-Bas); TIFA Working Studios (Inde); et Collectif BONUS (Nantes). Son travail a été exposé dans de nombreux centres d’art aux États-Unis (Herbert F. Johnson Museum of Art), en Europe (Festival de la Photo, Arles, 2017), en Indonésie… Il est depuis 2020 le co-directeur de Ruang MES56 et a été le commissaire du premier Festival International de Photographie à Jogja en 2023, “Mengukur Panjang dan Lebar Sebuah Bingkai” (A Strategy to Measure a Frame).
En 2024 Mira et Dito ont été nommé·e·s directeu·rice·s du CEMETI- Institut for Art and Society.
[EN]
Mira Asriningtyas is a curator and author, Dito Yuwono an artist and curator. Together they have formed the Yogyakarta-based curatorial collective LIR since 2011, a collective that is constantly reshaping itself as they reflect on curatorial responsibility, and whose activity extends throughout Southeast Asia, the USA and Europe. "Curated by LIR", a series of exhibitions proposed in Yogyakarta, Jakarta, Kaliurang, New York and Tapei between 2018 and 2023, retraces this curatorial journey that includes "Crossing Ecotones - Mountains Seen; No Mountain Being", "Rhinolophus Sinicus", "Worship to Power" and "Dream Express: Personalized History of Mysticism".
"Of Hunters and Gatherers" is a long-term project that brings together several Southeast Asian art institutions in Chiang Mai (Thailand), Bandung (Indonesia) and Ho Chi Minh City (Vietnam) for an exhibition, colloquia and a dedicated website. The project grew out of a walk by the collective and two guest artists at the foot of Mount Merapi, and on the roads along the lower Mekong, on the border between Thailand and Laos.
But each has developed a personal practice. Mira, who completed a research project on decolonial and polycentric modalities of learning and knowledge at the De Appel Art Center in Amsterdam in 2017, has curated numerous exhibitions and several seminar and symposium programs at the De Appel Art Center (Amsterdam); Stedelijk Museum (Amsterdam); Fondazione Sandretto Re Rebaudengo (Turin); KKF (Yogyakarta); ISCP (New York); MAIIAM Contemporary Art Museum (Chiang Mai); Our Museum (Taipei) among others. She has published numerous articles and essays in international journals, catalogs and magazines such as PARSE Journal and Stedelijk Studies. In 2017 Mira launched the "900mdpl" project in Kaliurang, a village at the foot of Mount Merapi, which addresses in all their complexity the post-colonial, environmental, political and memorial issues that the region's seismic fragility and the eruptions of this highly active volcano come to reveal in a spectacular mode and in a hurry. Dito works on the same themes in his work as an artist who gives priority attention to collective memory, the inscription of singular lives in history, and environmental urgency, always anchored in site-specific practices. He has been invited by The Northern Centre for Contemporary Art (NCCA) Darwin (Australia), Ruangrupa (Jakarta); Jatiwangi Art Factory (Indonesia); GOLEB & Het Wilde Weten (Netherlands); TIFA Working Studios (India); and Collectif BONUS (Nantes). His work has been exhibited in numerous art centers in the United States (Herbert F. Johnson Museum of Art) in Europe (Festival de la Photo, Arles, 2017), in Indonesia... Since 2020 he has been the co-director of Ruang MES56 and curated the first International Photography Festival in Jogja in 2023, "Mengukur Panjang dan Lebar Sebuah Bingkai" (A Strategy to Measure a Frame).
In 2024 Mira and Dito were appointed directors of CEMETI- Institut for Art and Society.
Programmation et prochains rendez-vous sur ce site ou par abonnement à la newsletter : [email protected]
Pour regarder les séminaires antérieurs : http://www.vimeo.com/sysk/
Séminaire conçu et organisé par Patricia Falguières, Elisabeth Lebovici et Natasa Petresin-Bachelez et soutenu par la Fundación Almine y Bernard Ruiz-Picasso para el Arte
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Watch 'Huge Three' credit standing businesses keep dominance in Europe By Reuters - Investing.com
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continuing to spread my kkf agenda
#kokofei#yanfei x kokomi#yanfei#kokomi#sangonomiya kokomi#yanfei gi#yanfei fanart#kokomi fanart#genshin impact#genshin impact fanart#genshin fanart#genshin rarepair
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