「DAYS」を含む日記

■anond:20240715135518

7 Days to End with You

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■[稀ドメインはてブ]2024年6月滅多にホットエントリを出さないドメインからのホットエントリ

ここ1年で初めてはてなブックマーク日毎の総合人気エントリ入りしたドメインからのホットエントリ、ブクマ数順トップ30

Permalink | 記事への反応(0) | 22:04

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■anond:20240628000543

記事でもサイトでもないけど漫画アプリ一式

漫画ワン、ぜブラック、コミックDays、ライン漫画、サンデー、ジャンプ+

サイトはtwitch、YouTubeでゲーム配信見てたら時間溶ける

Permalink | 記事への反応(0) | 23:38

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■anond:20240627132102

ゼルダの7 Days to Die🧟

Permalink | 記事への反応(0) | 13:42

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■anond:20240625184341

BookWalkerが開発してるカドコミがはてな製になってコミックDAYSみたいな感じになってたかもしれないだろ！

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■ジャンプ・サンデー・ジャンプ＋辺りに載っただけで「次にくる」候補作とはね

﹁新人タレントの伸びしろは本人のスペックじゃなくて事務所のバックアップで決まる﹂みたいな話についてよ、俺はまあそれが個人に限るならしゃーないと思ってんだ。ミュージシャンにしろアーティストにしろよ。でも既に作品として完成しているものがあるのに、それの伸びしろが作品の質じゃなくて掲載場所の知名度で決めるってのは流石にどうなんだろうな。
﹁新しいレストランが生き延びるかは、立地条件と噛み合っているかで決まる﹂みたいな話もあるけどよ、今はもうWEB掲載で最初の3話ぐらいは無料で読めるもんだろ？そしたらもう一発話題になりさえすればそこがどんな場末だろうとネット中からアクセスが来るってもんだ。そもそも一つの場所に限定されることなくマガポケにもニコニコにもDaysにも掲載されてるってタイプの作品だっていくらでもあらあよ。元々がどこの連載かなんてのは、今の時代は些細な話だろ？違うか？
いやマジでよ。そういった立地条件的な理由で﹁次にくる﹂と思われるのは作者側もしんどいんじゃねえか。作家なら自分の作品が業界全体でどのレベルかぐらい漠然と分かるだろうに。コネみたいなもんで祭り上げられ、そんで期待外れだとあーだこーだ言われて、そりゃ作家の為にはならんだろ。デカイ井戸に住んでることのメリットは、急いでその井戸を抜けなくてもいいことなんじゃねえかと思うわけよ。狭い井戸に居るならさっさと海を目指すべきだが、井戸が広いならある程度デカく育つまではそこに囲ってもらえてていいんじゃないかね？つまりだね。スケールメリットの使い方が逆なんじゃねえかって話よ。
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■anond:20240611201817

PERFECT DAYSキモイよね

Permalink | 記事への反応(0) | 15:46

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■

Betsy and Solomon lived happily through that winter and spring, and before summer came we had made up our minds to return to the East. What should we do with the owls? They would be a great deal of trouble to some one. They required an immense amount of petting, and a frequent supply of perfectly fresh meat. No matter how busy we were, one of us had to go to the butcher every other day.

We began to inquire among our friends who would like a nice, affectionate pair of owls? There seemed no great eagerness on the part of any one to(23) take the pets we so much valued. Plans for their future worried me so much that at last I said to my sister, “We will take them East with us.”

The owls, who were to take so long a journey, became objects of interest to our friends, and at a farewell tea given to us, a smartly dressed young man vowed that he must take leave of Solomon and Betsy. Calling for a broom, he slowly passed it to and fro over the carpet before them, while they sat looking at him with lifted ear tufts that betrayed great interest in his movements.

We trembled a little in view of our past moving experiences, but we were devoted to the little creatures and, when the time came, we cheerfully boarded the overland train at Oakland.

We had with us Betsy and Solomon in their large cage, and in a little cage a pair of strawberry finches, so called because their breasts are dotted like a strawberry. A friend had requested us to bring them East for her. We had also a dog—not Teddy, that had only been lent to us; but our own Irish setter Nita, one of the most lovable and interesting animals that I have ever owned.

The chipmunk was no longer with us. He had not seemed happy in the aviary—indeed, he lay down in it and threw me a cunning look, as if to say, “I will die if you don’t let me out of this.” So I gave him the freedom of the house. That pleased him, and for a few days he was very diligent in assisting us with our housekeeping by picking(24) all the crumbs off the floors and eating them. Then he disappeared, and I hope was happy ever after among the superb oak trees of the university grounds close to us.

When we started for the East, the pets, of course, had to go into the baggage car, and I must say here for the benefit of those persons who wish to travel with animals and birds, that there is good accommodation for them on overland trains. Sometimes we bought tickets for them, sometimes they had to go in an express car, sometimes we tipped the baggagemasters, but the sums spent were not exorbitant, and we found everywhere provision made for pets. You cannot take them in your rooms in hotels, but there is a place for them somewhere, and they will be brought to you whenever you wish to see them, or to give them exercise. We were on several different railway lines, and visited eight different cities, and the dog and birds, upon arriving in eastern Canada, seemed none the worse for their trip.

However, I would not by any means encourage the transportation of animals. Indeed, my feelings on the subject, since I understand the horrors animals and birds endure while being whirled from one place to another, are rather too strong for utterance. I would only say that in a case like mine, where separation between an owner and pets would mean unhappiness, it is better for both to endure a few days or weeks of travel. Then the case of animals(25) and birds traveling with some one who sees and encourages them every day is different from the case of unfortunate creatures sent off alone.

Our Nita was taken out of the car at every station where it was possible to exercise her, and one of us would run into restaurants along the route to obtain fresh meat for the owls. Their cage was closely covered, but whenever they heard us coming they hooted, and as no one seemed to guess what they were, they created a great deal of interest. My sister and I were amused one evening in Salt Lake City to see a man bending over the cage with an air of perplexity.

“They must be pollies,” he said at last, and yet his face showed that he did not think those were parrot noises issuing from within.

I remember one evening on arriving in Albany, New York, causing slight consternation in the hotel by a demand for raw meat. We hastened to explain that we did not want it for ourselves, and finally obtained what we wished.

As soon as we arrived home in Halifax, Nova Scotia, the owls were put downstairs in a nice, dry basement. They soon found their way upstairs, where the whole family was prepared to welcome them on account of their pretty ways and their love for caresses.

Strange to say, they took a liking to my father, who did not notice them particularly, and a mischievous dislike to my mother, who was disposed to(26) pet them. They used to fly on her head whenever they saw her. Their little claws were sharp and unpleasant to her scalp. We could not imagine why they selected her head unless it was that her gray hair attracted them. However, we had a French Acadian maid called Lizzie, whose hair was jet black, and they disliked her even more than they did my mother.

Lizzie, to get to her storeroom, had to cross the furnace-room where the owls usually were, and she soon began to complain bitterly of them.

“Dey watch me,” she said indignantly, “dey fly on my head, dey scratch me, an’ pull out my hairpins, an’ make my head sore.”

“Why don’t you push them off, Lizzie?” I asked, “they are only tiny things.”

“Dey won’t go—dey hold on an’ beat me,” she replied, and soon the poor girl had to arm herself with a switch when she went near them.

Lizzie was a descendant of the veritable Acadians mentioned in Longfellow’s “Evangeline,” of whom there are several thousand in Nova Scotia. My mother was attached to her, and at last she said, “I will not have Lizzie worried. Bring the owls up in my bathroom.”

There they seemed perfectly happy, sitting watching the sparrows from the window and teasing my long-suffering mother, who was obliged to give up using gas in this bathroom, for very often the owls put it out by flying at it.

(27)

One never heard them coming. I did not before this realize how noiseless the flight of an owl is. One did not dream they were near till there was a breath of air fanning one’s cheek. After we gave up the gas, for fear they would burn themselves, we decided to use a candle. It was absolutely necessary to have an unshaded light, for they would perch on any globe shading a flame, and would burn their feet.

The candle was more fun for them than the gas, for it had a smaller flame, and was more easily extinguished, and usually on entering the room, away would go the light, and we would hear in the corner a laughing voice, saying “Too, who, who, who, who!”

The best joke of all for the owls was to put out the candle when one was taking a bath, and I must say I heard considerable grumbling from the family on the subject. It seemed impossible to shade the light from them, and to find one’s self in the dark in the midst of a good splash, to have to emerge from the tub, dripping and cross, and search for matches, was certainly not calculated to add to one’s affection for Solomon and Betsy. However, they were members of the family, and as George Eliot says, “The members of your family are like the nose on your face—you have got to put up with it, seeing you can’t get rid of it.”

Alas! the time soon came when we had to lament the death of one of our troublesome but beloved pets.

Betsy one day partook heartily of a raw fish head,(28) and in spite of remedies applied, sickened rapidly and sank into a dying condition.

I was surprised to find what a hold the little thing had taken on my affection. When her soft, gray body became cold, I held her in my hand close to the fire and, with tears in my eyes, wished for a miracle to restore her to health.

She lay quietly until just before she died. Then she opened her eyes and I called to the other members of the family to come and see their strange expression. They became luminous and beautiful, and dilated in a peculiar way. We hear of the eyes of dying persons lighting up wonderfully, and this strange illumination of little Betsy’s eyes reminded me of such cases.

Even after death she lay with those wide-open eyes, and feeling that I had lost a friend, I put down her little dead body. It was impossible for me to conceal my emotion, and my mother, who had quite forgotten Betsy’s hostility to her, generously took the little feathered creature to a taxidermist.

I may say that Betsy was the first and last bird I shall ever have stuffed. I dare say the man did the work as well as it could be done, but I gazed in dismay at my Betsy when she came home. That stiff little creature sitting on a stick, with glazed eyes and motionless body, could not be the pretty little bird whose every motion was grace. Ever since the day of Betsy’s death, I can feel no admiration for a dead bird. Indeed, I turn sometimes with a shudder(29) from the agonized postures, the horrible eyes of birds in my sister women’s hats—and yet I used to wear them myself. My present conviction shows what education will do. If you like and study live birds, you won’t want to wear dead ones.

After Betsy’s death Solomon seemed so lonely that I resolved to buy him a companion. I chose a robin, and bought him for two dollars from a woman who kept a small shop. A naturalist friend warned me that I would have trouble, but I said remonstratingly, “My owl is not like other owls. He has been brought up like a baby. He does not know that his ancestors killed little birds.”

Alas! When my robin had got beautifully tame, when he would hop about after me, and put his pretty head on one side while I dug in the earth for worms for him, when he was apparently on the best of terms with Sollie, I came home one day to a dreadful discovery. Sollie was flying about with the robin’s body firmly clutched in one claw. He had killed and partly eaten him. I caught him, took the robin away from him, and upbraided him severely.

“Too, who, who, who who,” he said—apologetically, it seemed to me, “instinct was too strong for me. I got tired of playing with him, and thought I would see what he tasted like.”

I could not say too much to him. What about the innocent lambs and calves, of which Sollie’s owners had partaken?

(30)

I had a fine large place in the basement for keeping pets, with an earth floor, and a number of windows, and I did not propose to have Sollie murder all the birds I might acquire. So, one end of this room was wired off for him. He had a window in this cage overlooking the garden, and it was large enough for me to go in and walk about, while talking to him. He seemed happy enough there, and while gazing into the garden or watching the rabbits, guineapigs, and other pets in the large part of the room, often indulged in long, contented spells of cooing—not hooting.

In 1902 I was obliged to leave him for a six months’ trip to Europe. He was much petted by my sister, and I think spent most of his time upstairs with the family. When I returned home I brought, among other birds, a handsome Brazil cardinal. I stood admiring him as he stepped out of his traveling cage and flew around the aviary. Unfortunately, instead of choosing a perch, he flattened himself against the wire netting in Sollie’s corner.

I was looking right at him and the owl, and I never saw anything but lightning equal the celerity of Sollie’s flight, as he precipitated himself against the netting and caught at my cardinal’s showy red crest. The cardinal screamed like a baby, and I ran to release him, marveling that the owl could so insinuate his little claws through the fine mesh of the wire. However, he could do it, and he gripped the struggling cardinal by the long, hair-like(31) topknot, until I uncurled the wicked little claws. A bunch of red feathers fell to the ground, and the dismayed cardinal flew into a corner.

“Sollie,” I said, going into his cage and taking him in my hand, “how could you be so cruel to that new bird?”

“Oh, coo, coo, coo, coo,” he replied in a delightfully soft little voice, and gently resting his naughty little beak against my face. “You had better come upstairs,” I said, “I am afraid to leave you down here with that poor cardinal. You will be catching him again.”

He cooed once more. This just suited him, and he spent the rest of his life in regions above. I knew that he would probably not live as long in captivity as he would have done if his lot had been cast in the California foothills. His life was too unnatural. In their native state, owls eat their prey whole, and after a time disgorge pellets of bones, feathers, hairs, and scales, the remnants of food that cannot be digested.

My owls, on account of their upbringing, wanted their food cleaned for them. Betsy, one day, after much persuasion, swallowed a mouse to oblige me, but she was such a dismal picture as she sat for a long time with the tail hanging out of her beak that I never offered her another.

I tried to keep Solomon in condition by giving him, or forcing him to take, foreign substances, but my plan only worked for a time.

(32)

I always dreaded the inevitable, and one winter day in 1903 I looked sharply at him, as he called to me when I entered the house after being away for a few hours. “That bird is ill!” I said.

No other member of the family saw any change in him, but when one keeps birds and becomes familiar with the appearance of each one, they all have different facial and bodily expressions, and one becomes extremely susceptible to the slightest change. As I examined Sollie, my heart sank within me, and I began to inquire what he had been eating. He had partaken freely of boiled egg, meat, and charcoal. I gave him a dose of olive oil, and I must say that the best bird or beast to take medicine is an owl. Neither he nor Betsy ever objected in the l

Permalink | 記事への反応(0) | 00:35

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■anond:20240611003300

peace and quietness of the night after the turmoil of the day, were hooting persistently and melodiously.

“The landlady and the boarders,” gasped my sister; “they will hear and wake up. Can’t you stop the little wretches?”

I sprang out of bed, and addressed a solemn remonstrance to Solomon and Betsy. They were exceedingly glad to see me, and distending their little throats, continued to hoot, their clear, sweet young voices carrying only too well on the still Californian night air.

Then the chipmunk woke up and began to slide up and down an inclined piece of wood in his part of the cage. We were in despair. We could not sleep, until I had the happy thought of giving the owls a bath. I seized Betsy, held her in a basin of water, and wet her feathers considerably. Then I served Solomon in the same way, and for the rest of the night the tiny little things occupied themselves in smoothing their wet plumage. The chipmunk quieted down, and we had peace.

(19)

When we got into the cottage I had a carpenter build a small aviary at the back of it, with a box for rainy weather. The nights were not too cold for my hardy birds. Indeed, they were not too cold for many semi-tropical ones. I found a bird fancier not far from me, who had built a good-sized, open-air aviary, where he kept canaries and foreign finches all the year round, with only a partly open, glass shelter for the birds to use when it rained.

My sparrowhawk did not seem unhappy in my aviary, but he never had the contented, comfortable expression that the owls had. His apathy was pathetic, and the expression of his beautiful, cruel eyes was an unsatisfied one. In time, I should have allowed him to go, but suddenly he fell ill. I think I overfed him, for I got him into the habit of taking a late supper, always leaning out the window and handing him a piece of meat on the end of a stick before I went to bed.

I brought him into the warm kitchen, where he moped about for a few days. Just before he died he came hopping toward the parlor, where I sat entertaining a friend. I often took him in there on the broad windowsill and talked to him as I sat sewing.

He stood in the doorway, gave me a peculiar look, as if to say, “I would come in if you were alone,” hopped back to the kitchen, and in a short time was no more.

My sister and I mourned sincerely for our pretty bird, and I had the uncomfortable feeling that I(20) might have done better if I had left him in his own habitat—but then he might have starved to death if his parents had not found him. Would death by starvation have been any more painful than his death with me? Possibly some larger creature might have killed him swiftly and mercifully—it was a puzzling case, and I resolved to give up worrying about it. I had done what I considered was best, and I tried to console myself for his death in petting the dear little owls that had become so tame that they called to my sister and me whenever they saw us, and loved to have us take them in our hands and caress them.

About them I had no misgivings. They would certainly have died if I had not adopted them, and there was no question about their happiness. They were satisfied with a state of captivity. They had so far lost one of their owl habits, for they kept awake nearly all day, and slept nearly all night—and they could see quite well in the most brilliant Californian sunlight, and that is pretty brilliant. A cat or a dog many yards distant would cause them to raise excitedly the queer little ear tufts that play so prominent a part in the facial expression of some owls, and they would crack their beaks together and hiss angrily if the enemy came too near.

Cats and dogs frightened them, and a broom merely excited them. When strangers wanted to see the elevation of these tufts, a broom, swiftly passed over the floor, would cause Solomon and(21) Betsy to become very wide awake, with feather tufts straight up in the air. I never saw them abjectly and horribly frightened but once. A lady had brought her handsome parrot into the room where the owls were. The poor little mites put up their ear tufts, swayed to and fro on their perch, and instead of packing their feathers and becoming thin and elongated in appearance, as they did for cats and dogs, they puffed themselves out, snapped their beaks, and uttered the loudest hissing noise I had ever heard from them.

From their extremity of fear I concluded that their instinct told them this danger was so imminent that they must make themselves as formidable as possible.

The parrot was of course quickly removed, and I took care that they should never again see another one.

Permalink | 記事への反応(0) | 00:33

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■anond:20240528172840

どのウェブ漫画か？だと言われると困るけど主要じゃウェブ漫画サイトの大体ははてなが握ってると言えるのではないかな
▽ マンガビューワ﹁GigaViewer﹂とは
Webマンガサイトやマンガアプリなどのサービスを使って、ユーザーがマンガ作品︵電子コミック︶を閲覧する際に必要なソフトウェアが﹁ビューワ﹂です。マンガサービスにおける読書体験の質を決定的に左右する核心的な機能であるため、高品質なビューワの重要性が高まっています。
当社では﹁はてなブログ﹂や﹁はてなブックマーク﹂などの個人向けWebサービスの提供で培った技術力を活かし、2017年にWebサイトとしての魅力を引き出せるマンガビューワである﹁GigaViewer︵現在の﹁GigaViewer for Web﹂︶﹂を開発しました。ユーザーが快適にマンガ作品を楽しむための各種機能に加え、サービス提供者の運用コストを削減する管理機能、広告によるマネタイズ支援など、機能とサービスの拡充に継続的に取り組んでいます。2021年11月より、Webマンガサービス向けビューワに加えて、マンガアプリに対応したビューワである﹁GigaViewer for Apps﹂の提供を開始しました。
﹁GigaViewer﹂は、以下15社・19サービスにて採用されています。
＜﹁GigaViewer for Web﹂が採用されたWebマンガサイト＞
﹁少年ジャンプ＋﹂﹁となりのヤングジャンプ﹂︵株式会社集英社︶／﹁マガジンポケット﹂﹁コミックDAYS﹂﹁&Sofa﹂︵株式会社講談社︶／﹁くらげバンチ﹂︵株式会社新潮社︶／﹁コミプレ﹂︵株式会社ヒーローズ︶／﹁コミックボーダー﹂︵株式会社リイド社︶／﹁コミックガルド﹂︵株式会社オーバーラップ︶／﹁ゼノン編集部﹂︵株式会社コアミックス︶／﹁MAGCOMI﹂︵株式会社マッグガーデン︶／﹁webアクション﹂︵株式会社双葉社︶／﹁コミックトレイル﹂︵株式会社芳文社︶／﹁コミックブシロードWEB﹂︵株式会社ブシロードメディア︶／﹁FEEL web﹂︵株式会社祥伝社︶／﹁サンデーうぇぶり﹂﹁コロコロオンライン﹂︵株式会社小学館︶／﹁COMIC OGYAAA!!﹂︵株式会社ホーム社︶
＜﹁GigaViewer for Apps﹂が採用されたマンガアプリ＞
﹁コミックガルド＋﹂︵株式会社オーバーラップ・プラス︶
当社では今後も、自社サービスで培ってきた技術力とマネタイズを含む運営ノウハウを活用し、企業のサービス開発・運営・収益化を支援してまいります。
Permalink | 記事への反応(0) | 09:15 
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■コミックDAYSの漫画って物凄い追いにくいけど皆どうしてるの？

13の雑誌がバッラバラな更新間隔で掲載されていて結局どれをどこまで読んでるのかまるで分からなくなるんだよね。
マガポケで隔週更新やってる漫画とかでさえ見落としそうになるのに、あんなグチャグチャに更新されたらどう追えと言うのかと。
結果としてアプリ使ってチケット読みして追いつける作品以外は歯抜けになって放置することになる。
皆はどうやって解決してるん？

課金するって答はなしね。
俺お金ないから
Permalink | 記事への反応(0) | 02:00 
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■anond:20240524124255

Whores in this house

There’s some whores in this house

There’s some whores in this house

There’s some whores in this house

ビッチがいるぞ

この家にはビッチがいる

この家にはビッチがいる

この家にはビッチがいる

I said certified freak, seven days a week

Wet and gushy, make that pullout game weak, woo

イカれた女って認められてるの　週7日稼働してる

濡れたマンコ　あなたは抜くのも嫌になるわ

Yeah, you dealin’ with some wet and gushy

Bring a bucket and a mop for this wet and gushy

Give me everything you got for this wet and gushy

あなたはびしょ濡れのマンコに入れたいのよね

バケツとモップを持ってきてよ

マンコのためなら何でもくれるよね

Beat it up, baby, catch a charge

Extra large and extra hard

Put this cookie right in your face

Swipe your nose like a credit card

Hop on top, I wanna ride

I do a kegel, I’m kinda wild

Look at my mouth, look at my thighs

This water is wet, come take a dive

激しく突いて　違法なくらいに

大きさも硬さも普通じゃないわね

マンコをあなたの顔へ乗せたら

あなたの鼻をクレジットカードみたいにスワイプして

上に乗ってあげる

中に入れてる時は　ケーゲル体操するの

口に唾を吐いて　私を見つめて

マンコは濡れてるからダイブしてよ

Permalink | 記事への反応(2) | 15:45

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■anond:20240523104641

Hundred Daysとかサクナヒメとか？

Permalink | 記事への反応(0) | 11:09

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■コミックDAYSのすべてを知りたい

コミックDAYSを長く使っているのに、未だに面白い漫画を発見してしまう

今まで知らなかったのがもったいない、コミックDAYSの面白い漫画を全部把握しておきたい

全知全能になりてえよなーこういう時

Permalink | 記事への反応(0) | 17:44

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■anond:20240425094946

オープニング見て映像と音楽演出が気に入ったならアニメ

ちょっとわからんなと思ったらいったん漫画

漫画はコミックDAYSで割と読めるから無料で読みたかったらそっちからでもいい

Permalink | 記事への反応(0) | 09:57

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■anond:20200804152152

ブコメの『宝石の国』読みたくなった人へ

COMIC DAYSで4/29まで最終話以外全話無料やってるよ！

https://comic-days.com/episode/13932016480029605220

Permalink | 記事への反応(0) | 20:34

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■anond:20240424181020

seven days war、戦うよ…

Permalink | 記事への反応(0) | 18:14

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■

マイホームヒーロー、コミックDAYSで最新話まで追い付いた

まとりがピークだったなまじで

どんどん魅力のない、お前誰だっけみたいな奴が敵になって

部数の話してる奴がいるが、これは現在24巻で300万部らしい

まあ、そんなもんかという内容ではあるが、いろいろメディアミックスとかしてもこんなもんかという思いもあり

ほんと漫画売れてないんだなあ一部以外

Permalink | 記事への反応(0) | 10:49

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■スカのプレイリストが100曲になったので