#Sprouting - Good Food for Emergencies

[phightingheadcanons]

Trying out the blog, call me emergency response kit

Anyway, thieves den headcanons (may or may not be my fave faction)

thieves den has seasonal phestivals with lots of bright lights and street markets, everything is organic and fresh

Street food there is amazing, but older folks dislike that stuff.

I picture thieve's den elders to be kinda strict about manners, and katana has picked up some of these things and wants vine, Shuri and sling to follow through

Vine is the most polite and courteous of the three. Sling is okay at it but prefers to be a little more comfortable, Shuri straight out speaks in abbreviations and is unintentionally rude sometimes. He means no harm though.

^headcanon that Shuri has audhd ( but somehow became friends with skate and boombox)

eats random stuff off the ground

collects bug pelts and pretty rocks as a hobby.

likes perching on high spots like his unc hyperlaser

He struggles to talk to new people

Hates rough scratchy textures in contact with anywhere on his body ( totally not self projecting )

Probably watches teenage mutant ninja turtles

Hyperactive at wrong times of the day

Is very impulsive when he's angry

Completely opposite when he's a vigilante because he's so focused

Vine headcanons!!!

worried for Shuri everytime he gets hurt because she thinks she's gonna turn into a tree soon and not be able to protect him anymore.

She isn't going to the tree curse only stays in one half of her body and doesn't spread any further

vine has insomnia and can barely sleep

She can make stuff like breakfast pancakes but can literally burn water when she's making dinner.

reads alot and frequently visits ghosdeeri to chat

Sometimes tags along with sling when he goes to hangout with his playground buddies

Met medkit when exploring crossroads and they exchanged some small talk.

Has mixed feelings about subspace.

Sling headcanons!

Used to be similarly as polite as vine but he lived in playground for a few years to pitch his Cafe project and came back totally different.

He also met skate, boombox and coil during this time.

After he set up the Cafe in crossroads he found a bunch of stray cats and fed them, long story short they accompany visitors in his cafe now (there are 5 of them)

makes really good pastries and taught Shuri how to make stuffed croissants. Shuri sometimes bakes them for family and himself, although they turn out wonky sometimes.

Takes grudges very seriously.

all 3 of them live in the same apartment in crossroads (that looks more like a treehouse now) and visit katana in thieves den on weekends.

Also they don't sleep in normal beds. Shuriken sleeps in a hammock he made for himself that hangs from a tree protruding out of their apartment (vine accidentally grew out her sprout hehde)

Vine sleeps in a pillow pile in the mid section of the tree

And sling sleeps in a giant cardboard box which was once the packaging for their refrigerator.

/silly

.

[paperclipps7]

RANDOM QUESTION: what were the toons favorite foods pre-dead end? ( Because I know they can't have favourites in the dead end. They eat what they can get right? )

This one is a tricky one. Both because its a lot of information to list and also because I do not have a very expansive diet. I am a simple critter who likes simple foods and dosnt try new things, so forgive me if I accidently project my own sub-par tastes onto them.

I can see Dandy enjoying stuffed peppers. Cant really explain my reasoning.

Astro seems like the kind of guy to have a croissant every morning with his coffee. Assuming he wakes up at all.

Bobette, all things considered, dosnt have too different of a life now compared to pre-dead end (yknow, minus the horrible monsters). I think she'd be used to venison given her life in the woods, dosnt matter how its prepped. Dont tell Rudie.

Shelly just strikes me as the type to like a big bowl of beef stew. Plenty of meat for a carnivore, and its like a tar pit. Idk why I thought of that last part.

Sprout, despite being a butcher, I dont think would be too fond of eating large amounts of meat. Dude's constantly surrounded by the stuff. So this is an odd one, but personally, I think fried rice. A good mix of flavors and food groups.

Vee cant eat. Sad. Electricity is her food.

Boxten would definetly be a classic bacon and eggs kinda guy. Although I think he'd prefer it all in an omelette. More efficient that way.

Cosmo, as a chef, dosnt like to limit himself to one specific favorite food, he likes a wide array of different advanced cuisine and- peach pie. He really, really likes peach pie.

Looey likes apples. Why? I dunno, he just likes apples.

I think Poppy liked pasta, but specifically with pesto sauce.

Rudie liked sandwiches. Not so much anymore, since they are a remindo of his boring as shit life pre-Dead End, but they were basically his only rest from his job.

Shrimpo really loves spicy sushi rolls. Even better if theyve got shrimp in em.

Tisha, ironically, really liked sautéed mushrooms.

Yatta is obvious: Anything with sugar. Though if she had to be more specific... Jello. She really likes jello.

I imagine Brightney would enjoy udon, but I dont have the slightest idea why.

Connie cant really eat or digest, but I do think she could taste stuff, so she still counts for the list. I think she'd like deep dish pizza specifically.

Finn definetly loves fish and chips. He just has to make sure to not let the fish he caught stare at him while he preps it or he might feel bad and just end up with chips.

I think Ginger would be the type to like an affogato while she paints.

I think Razzle & Dazzle would like street hot dogs. The kind that you find in new york with a ton of toppings that might actually be pidgeon meat (for legal reasons this is a joke0.

Rodger likes coffee. Nothing added, just straight coffee. He's a freak of nature.

Teagan is pretty obvious, tea, but I think similar to how she is in game she'd specifically like sweet tea, helps contradict her from the rest of her steriotypical posh family.

Toodles probably likes mint chip ice cream. Helps her remember earlier in life.

Blot would be a fan of macarons. Specifically chocolate. I think he'd enjoy chocolate.

Flutter seems like the type to unironically enjoy trail mix. And not just picking out little bits of it no she eats every last crumb in the bag.

I think Gigi would like a slider burger. Also shed definetly be the type to wrap up fast food in her head as emergency snacks.

Glisten, without a doubt, is the type to swindle for weeks so he can afford his mega fancy lobster tail, then go the rest of the month eating chips and gas station hot pockets.

Goob likes ramen, with or without toppings, dosnt matter, the noodles are the best part! Took him years to manage the chopsticks.

Scraps loves sashimi, specifically salmon.

Bassie would just really like salads. Wonder why.

Cocoa, for literally no reason at all, genuinely I dont know why this is just my gut telling me, really likes tomato soup.

Flyte strikes me as the type to really like dragon fruit. A more exotic fruit with a nice mild flavor. He just like me fr!

[hummingbird24220]

Chapter Thirteen: Snap Out of It

You spent the rest of the day in a dazed, semi-catatonic state, curled up against Sanji while the crew thoroughly enjoyed your sudden and hilarious vulnerability.

Zoro, of course, never stopped smirking.

Luffy, naturally, found the whole thing amazing.

And Sanji?

Sanji was suffering in real time.

Because even though you were dazed beyond reason, you were still clinging to him—and he had no idea how to process it.

By the time dinner rolled around, you had started to recover.

Somewhat.

You were still zoned out, eyes slightly hollow, moving on autopilot as you poked at your food. The crew, of course, was still keeping an eye on you, thoroughly entertained by your state.

Then—your ears perked up.

Because across the table, Nami and Robin were talking about strength.

“I should probably train more.”

That was Nami, sighing as she swirled her drink.

Robin hummed. “It wouldn’t hurt. Our crew is full of monsters, after all.”

Nami scoffed. “Yeah, and I’m not one of them.”

Robin smirked. “Yet.”

That was all you needed to snap out of it.

Your head jerked up so fast that Usopp nearly fell off his chair.

"YOU WANNA TRAIN?!"

The entire table froze.

Sanji blinked. "Wait. You’re—you’re back?"

You ignored him, eyes gleaming with renewed energy as you focused entirely on Nami and Robin.

Nami raised an eyebrow. "…Yeah? What about it?"

You grinned.

And just like that, your dazed state was officially gone.

“Hit Me.”

A few minutes later, you were standing in the middle of the deck, stretching your arms as Nami and Robin stared at you.

You smirked. "Go on. Hit me."

Nami blinked. "Excuse me?"

You gestured to yourself, grinning. "If you wanna get stronger, you need to practice. And I can take it. So—hit me."

Usopp immediately looked horrified. "THIS IS A BAD IDEA."

Zoro, grinning, crossed his arms. "No, this is a great idea."

Sanji was torn between being worried and deeply fascinated.

Luffy, of course, was loving every second of this.

Robin smirked. "Well… if you insist."

And then—without warning—she flicked her wrist.

Instantly, two ghostly hands sprouted from your shoulders and flicked your forehead.

You barely felt it. "Aw, c’mon, Robin. You can do better than that."

Robin smiled. "Hmm. Alright."

Suddenly, ten arms emerged from the deck, grabbing you.

Before you could react, they lifted you off your feet and flipped you onto your back.

The crew winced collectively.

You blinked up at the sky. "…Okay. That was good."

Robin chuckled, sipping her tea. "Satisfied?"

You grinned. "Not even close."

Then you sprung to your feet and turned to Nami. "Alright, sweetheart. Your turn."

Nami frowned. "I don’t have freaky flower arms."

"Yeah," you smirked. "But you do have a staff. And a mean right hook. Use ‘em."

Nami squinted at you. "Are you sure about this?"

You grinned wider. "I love bad ideas."

Sanji groaned. "This is gonna be painful to watch."

Zoro chuckled. "Not for us."

Luffy bounced excitedly. "DO IT, NAMI!"

Nami sighed. Then—she swung her Clima-Tact.

WHACK.

The sound echoed across the deck.

You staggered back slightly, blinking. "Oh-ho. Now we’re talkin’."

Usopp gaped. "SHE JUST ATE THAT HIT."

Robin chuckled. "I think she enjoyed it."

Nami grinned. "You’re nuts, you know that?"

You rolled your shoulders, eyes gleaming. "Oh, honey. You have no idea."

And just like that, training had begun.

…Much to Sanji’s absolute despair.

__________________________________________

The deck of the Thousand Sunny had officially been turned into a training ground—and you were the designated target.

Nami, rolling her shoulders, was already regretting agreeing to this. Robin was amused, watching with a knowing smile. The rest of the crew?

Loving every second of it.

Chopper, however, was freaking out.

"Y-You guys need to be careful!" he cried, hooves clenched as he stood at the sidelines. "She’s strong, but she’s still a human!"

Usopp scoffed. "I seriously doubt that at this point."

Zoro smirked. "She can take it."

Sanji, arms crossed, muttered, "She’s an idiot, but yeah, she’ll be fine."

Luffy? Absolutely vibrating with excitement. "HIT HER AGAIN!"

And so, they did.

Round One: Nami’s Beating

You barely moved as Nami continued laying into you—smacking you with her Clima-Tact, landing direct punches, even delivering a well-aimed kick to your ribs.

The result?

You stood there, completely unfazed.

Nami, however? Panting. Sweating. Hands shaking.

The vibrations from hitting you so many times had started to hurt her.

She took a step back, shaking out her sore hands. "Okay—okay. I need a break."

You smirked, stretching. "Aw, already? You were just warming up, sweetheart."

Nami gaped at you. "HOW ARE YOU NOT EVEN A LITTLE SORE?!"

You flexed your fingers, rolling your neck with a satisfied sigh. "I dunno, honey. But damn, that felt nice."

The entire crew stared.

Usopp threw his hands up. "She’s not human. Nope. No way."

Franky wiped a fake tear. "A true powerhouse!"

Sanji sighed heavily, muttering something about ‘absolute insanity’.

Robin, still calm, smiled. "Well, I suppose it’s my turn."

You grinned. "Oh? Finally pulling out the big guns, love?"

Robin smirked. "Something like that."

Round Two: Robin’s Ultimate Move

Robin lifted a hand—and instantly, dozens of arms sprouted from the deck, the mast, the railings, even from yourself.

You barely had time to react before they grabbed you.

You let it happen.

You let her bend your limbs, twist your back, pull your arms into uncomfortable angles—things that should’ve been painful or at least impossible to escape.

The crew watched in stunned silence as Robin bent your body in unnatural ways.

And then—

Instead of crying out in pain…

You let out a delighted noise.

A happy, almost giddy sound.

Like someone had just given you the world’s best back stretch.

Robin paused. "…You enjoyed that."

You grinned. "Robin, love, that was the best thing I’ve felt in weeks."

Robin blinked, actually startled for the first time. "…Interesting."

Sanji clutched his chest. "I—what is she—?"

Zoro groaned. "Of course she’s into that."

Nami, still shaking out her hands, gawked at you. "You’re actually insane."

Robin tilted her head. "I suppose there’s no point in continuing, then." She elegantly retracted her arms, letting you stand back up like nothing happened.

You stretched, cracking your neck. "That was amazing. We should do that again sometime."

Robin chuckled. "I’ll keep that in mind."

Chopper had steam coming out of his ears. "STOP ENJOYING YOUR OWN TRAINING DAMAGE!"

Luffy was in tears from laughing. "THAT WAS SO COOL!"

Nami collapsed onto a nearby crate. "I give up. She’s unbreakable."

Zoro crossed his arms. "Not yet, she’s not."

You turned to him with a smirk. "Oh? You volunteering for the next round, honey?"

Zoro’s eye twitched. "Tch. Don’t push your luck."

Sanji dragged a hand down his face. "This crew gets weirder every day."

Robin, sipping her tea, smiled. "Yes… but it’s so entertaining."

And just like that, the training session came to an end—with you completely unscathed and the crew questioning their entire reality.

[yourlocaltreesimp]

Once upon a dream

The 1st place raffle prize for @violetregrets1837

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The blackness that swallowed your limbs gave way to a soft light. Your body was suspended in time, floating atop its waters.Your eyes opened and that soft light opened to a world. You were floating atop water, it lapped at your limbs as you floated. The current guided you to the nearest edge, and you sat upon the lip of the pool. It looked much similar to a blossoming flower, lush pink petals folding out from the bubbling water in the centre. Little balls of light danced in the air, each a different colour. You could hear them laughing among themselves, little wings fluttering about. The whole scene was nothing short of enchanting, soft piano and violin accompanying your amazement. The water began to bubble, and before you could fully skitter back, there was a woman. Her hair was long and fell in loose curls, her face was decorated with ornate makeup and gems, her clothes here finer than any human tailor could make. But perhaps most captivating of all -aside from the fact she was giant and just emerged from the water- were the wings that sprouted out from in front of her pointed ears.

“I see you are awake little one” Her voice was soft and warm, your nerves were put to rest “Your soul was embroidered with quite a bit of dark magic, but worry not, I fixed it” You stood slowly, unsure of what to do. She held out a large hand, asking for you to step on. You do so carefully, and she smiles kindly. “You are far from home little one” You sit down on the palm of her hand, and she brings you to eye level “I will allow you refuge if you can offer us anything” Your nerves set back in, all you could really do was sing, and your parents had already spent enough time explaining why it would never get you anywhere.

“I’m sorry ma’am, i’m afraid all I can do is sing” She laughs, it’s light and airy, her eyes lighting.

“That is just perfect my dear. Us faeries love music” She set you back down gently as a small light grew from your chest and enveloped your form. “Worry not, little one, I'm simply ensuring your safety while you stay with us. I’m sure you’ve heard the stories of our enchantments”

And so bagan your new reality, sworn protection by the fae in return for your singing. The little fairies took some time to trust you, but soon you always had one on your shoulder or another asleep in your hair. You were safe here, free to roam the heart of the forest. You learned what to forage, what plants made good food and what flowers made for good tea. It was on one such trip foraging that you heard footsteps. He waded through the tall grasses and wove through the trees. You watched from the branches as he made his way through the forest, directly towards its heart. You’ll admit that something about him struck you, his careful steps avoiding the ruin of the forest, the hopeful gleam in his eyes as he wandered, you were captivated. But no person comes out this far, no people seek the help of great fairies anymore, not unless it’s to steal and bottle the young fairies. Your path back to the Great fairy and her fountain was quite simple now you had it memorised, but it would’ve been challenging for anyone who was unfamiliar. As soon as you stood on the lip of the fountain she appeared, examining your worried expression.

“What troubles you, my dear” She cupped both of her hands and let you crawl in.

“There’s a boy in the forest- he’s coming here” Your voice shook, and for the first time you’d been awake in this unfamiliar land, you felt scared. She smiled that knowing grin and pressed you to her cheek.

“He has no ill intent little one, there is no need for your worry.” She sets you back down and leans on the edge of the fountain with her forearms, most of her submerged in the water. “Now, how about a song? Those always calm you down, do they not?” Her suggestion was gentle, redirecting your worry towards something else. You hummed, trying to warm up your voice as you thought of a song. One sprang to mind, looking around at the magic that surrounded you.

“I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream” You made sure to feel the slow sway and swell of the music as you remembered it. “I know you, that look in your eyes is so familiar a gleam” The fairy in front of you smiled and closed her eyes as she enjoyed your singing more than you parents ever did. “And I know it's true that visions are seldom all they seem. But if I know you, I know what you'll do” The smaller fairies gathered to listen, some settling on your shoulders. “You'll love me at once, the way you did once upon a dream” You finished there and the great fairy opened her eyes. She smiled, her eyes searching your face before glancing behind you.

“My, that was certainly a wonderful performance. Wouldn’t you agree?” Her eyes looked expectantly at the boy behind you, the same from before. He stared at you as if he were enchanted by your voice, large eyes staring at you in awe. When he noticed you staring back, his eyes widened.

“Beautiful” He managed to stammer out.

“Thank you” You smiled, knowing that the great fairy was right, he was harmless.

Hyrule was nothing short of bewitched. Your voice held no magic and yet it wrapped around his mind for the days to follow. Your face, lit with the soft glow of the fairies resting on your shoulders was finer than that of any statue or painting. He thought he was lying when his sisters back home told him that he would find someone who would complete him, filling in the cracks of his soul. And yet standing there, hearing you sing, seeing your smile, that’s the most complete he’s ever been in his whole life. The magic in his blood yearned for your voice, for your touch, for you. The great fairy before him raised him much like a son, and judging by the knowing smile on her face, she knew.

[ravilenn]

Asian!reader in Hogwarts (headcanons)

pt.1 - food shenanigans

this is mostly written for the jokes lol

_____________________________________________

. . .

• One week.

• It took one week for the Great Hall menu to grow unbearable for you after days of eating boiled vegetables and bland casseroles.

• And by the gods were you tired of it. You don't know how people can eat this for 7 years straight. And it gets even worse because Hogwarts doesn't have rice. No rice??? That's one way to give you a heart attack.

• It was at that moment when you decided to take matters into your own hands.

• So yeah, hence why you currently have a rice cooker in front of you on the table. Courtesy of your parents sending you one after hearing they didn't have rice over there (?!)

• Anyway, back to the present, where a few students are now eyeing you curiously.

• "What is this?"

- "That," you say, pointing at the perfectly ordinary looking device, "...is a rice cooker."

- Still met with confusion, you add, “You put rice in it. Press a button. Boom. Rice.”

• By this point, half the table is staring at you like you just told them Dumbledore did a cartwheel in the courtyard.

• “And why, do you need a... machine to do that-?”

- “Do you need a wand to do magic? No? Then don't question my rice cooker.”

• Flashforward the rice cooker is now declared a sacred artifact. Hogwarts finally has rice. The world is at peace.

.

.

.

• Well... that is until you decided to spice up the Hogwarts menu itself this time. Literally. Because this bland food has 'no soul'.

• According to who? You.

• Seriously, you'd think the British would've at least taken a cooking book when they colonized the world, but no-!

• You took your emergency stash of peppers and herbs and snuck into the kitchen.

• Too bad the house-elves caught you just as you were about to drop a peppercorn into one of their pots.

• “Miss, what’s this?” one of them asked, sniffing the spicy broth.

- “Freedom.”

(leaves dramatically)

• And since they didn't have time left to remake the food, they decided to serve it anyway and hope no one dies of food poisoning.

• Let's just say that they ran out of servings at record speed.

• Oh, and you now have several elves begging you to teach them the art of seasoning.

.

• So naturally by now, you're (kind of) well-known for your food shenanigans. Many of the house-elves and students are practically worshipping you ever since you introduced them to a plethora of new snacks.

• But of course there’s still a small group of skeptical people.

• A certain blonde from Slytherin named Draco Malfoy initially accused you of trying to poison him with your spices, but you could've sworn you saw him sneaking in a spring roll once.

• You also may have asked a house-elf to put wasabi in his mashed potatoes that evening, saying it would 'enhance the flavour'.

#revenge

.

Now, if you're in Gryffindor, you will dare your fellow housemates to eat some of your spiciest food.

#spicyfoodchallenge@gryffindor

• Dean Thomas for example once tried your chili-covered dried mango and immediately turned red. You could practically see the smoke coming out of his ears.

• Everyone cheered as he downed 3 goblets of pumpkin juice.

• And Thomas called you insane. (you were casually eating one of the snacks as if it wasn't the spiciest thing he's ever eaten right in front of him)

• You also may have sent Ron to the Hospital Wing once for feeding him spicy chili.

• Can no one here handle a little bit of spice?

.

In the meantime, the Hufflepuff now has weekly ramen parties at night.

• That's when you pull out your secret-not-so-secret stash of noodles and broth and prepare them in your cauldron for everyone.

• It's very cozy and calm, y'all just a happy bunch of Hufflepuffs enjoying some good ol' ramen.

• Professor Sprout pretends not to notice because she’s secretly a fan of your shrimp tempura ramen.

• You're thinking of introducing them to hotpot.

.

As for Ravenclaw, you introduced them to 'matcha mochi', because the green tea flavor is ideal for staying awake. You know they're night owls.

• They love you for that.

• It's a godsend during midterms.

.

Half of Slytherin probably owes you favors by now. And that's because you started a 'black market snack trade' where you trade various snacks for favors.

- "You help me with my Herbology homework, and I’ll give you a batch of my family’s special sweet soy sauce.”

• "Deal."

- “If you get the secret potion recipe from Snape’s personal notes, I’ll give you a month’s worth of homemade dumplings.” ...

.

You may have abused used this method several times to sweet-talk your way out of detention.

• “I’ll give you some of my homemade miso soup if you let me off with just a warning, Professor.”

• And surprisingly they agree too??? Most of the time. Snape still resists, but you could've sworn you saw him contemplating for a split second when you mentioned mochi.

• Isn't this bribery?

• You also accept gossip as payment btw 👍👍

.

• I honestly don't know where you get all of that food from. Must be the Asian power.

.

• By your fifth year, Asian cuisine pretty much became a standard during meals.

• So obviously, the first thing Umbridge does when she gets the authority is banning any 'non-tradidional' foods at Hogwarts, claiming it's to 'preserve the purity of the British cuisine', and because the spices and techniques are 'too disruptive' for a safe learning environment.

• You think she just can't handle anything spicier than salt.

• Hence why you teamed up with Fred and George to develop a secret line of 'banned snacks', like dumplings that explode into fireworks to get back at her.

• And it wouldn't be Fred and George if they didn't make anything funny like fortune cookies that make fun of Umbridge and her decrees.

• Which is, unsurprisingly, their most popular one.

• When you were eventually caught and interrogated by Umbridge, you just shrugged. “Asian cuisine has been perfected over centuries. You can’t just erase it with a decree, Professor. That’s like trying to ban magic itself!"

You're really passionate about your food, huh.

[natsuki-bakery]

⁎˚ ఎ Dunmeshi Agere HCs ໒ ˚⁎

could you do senshi cg head cannons?

•Senshi is deeply committed to providing nourishment, ensuring everyone in his care is well-fed with balanced meals. He’s always experimenting with dungeon ingredients to create delicious, healthy food that keeps his companions in top condition. He believes that good food is the foundation of good health and morale, often saying, "A well-fed party is a happy party"

•With years of dungeon experience, Senshi has picked up basic medical skills. He knows how to dress wounds, treat minor injuries, and concoct basic potions or remedies using dungeon plants. His knowledge of various monster parts also allows him to create improvised healing aids

•Senshi is nurturing but doesn’t coddle. If someone is injured or feeling down, he’ll offer support through practical means rather than emotional pampering. He’ll encourage his companions to push through difficulties but will always have a hearty meal or warm drink ready for them afterward

•Sense of Routine : Senshi maintains a strict sense of routine, which he believes is vital for survival in dangerous environments. He ensures everyone sticks to a schedule for meals, rest, and even personal hygiene, especially when dungeon crawling. This routine helps keep morale high and prevents accidents born from fatigue or carelessness

•Senshi’s calm and steady demeanor often diffuses tension within the group. When things go wrong, he’s the one who reminds everyone to breathe, regroup, and think things through. His reassuring presence often makes others feel safe, even in the face of the most terrifying monsters

•Senshi often takes on a mentoring role, particularly towards younger or less experienced adventurers. He’s always ready to teach cooking techniques, survival skills, or the value of patience and preparation. He’s patient with explanations, though he won’t hesitate to correct mistakes

•Senshi is a walking survival kit. He always carries essentials like first aid supplies, emergency rations, and tools for unexpected challenges. His bag is meticulously organized, and he frequently checks and restocks his supplies, knowing the importance of being prepared

•Senshi’s creativity in using dungeon resources extends beyond cooking. He can improvise a shelter, build a fire in harsh conditions, or craft tools out of seemingly useless materials. His adaptability makes him invaluable as a caregiver in unpredictable dungeon environments

•While he’s not one for deep heart-to-heart talks, Senshi supports your emotional resilience by sharing his own stories and lessons from his long years of adventuring. He subtly teaches the value of perseverance, resilience, and the importance of not giving up, no matter how dire the situation

•Senshi is a firm believer in proper rest and recovery. He’ll be the first to set up camp and insist that everyone gets enough sleep, even if it means standing guard himself. He’s quick to notice signs of exhaustion and will adjust plans to ensure the team isn’t pushing themselves too hard

•Petanmes : Care Giver Senshi would use endearing, nature-inspired pet names that reflect his connection to the wilderness and his caring nature. He might call you : little sprout, Pebble, Mushroom, or Cinnamon Bun ! These names reflect both his warmth and the cozy, earthy feel of his cooking and lifestyle, adding a layer of gentle affection

•Senshi knows that age regressors often seek comfort and security. He’d frequently remind you, "You’re safe with me" or "I’ve got you, little sprout" He would use a calm and steady tone to soothe anxieties, always reinforcing a sense of safety and stability

•If you're non-verbal, Senshi would be incredibly attentive to your body language, expressions, and other non-verbal cues. He would communicate through simple gestures, like thumbs up, soft pats on the back, or offering them your favorite snacks. He would never pressure you to speak and would instead focus on making you comfortable and understood

•Senshi understands that predictability can be comforting, especially for an age regressor. He would establish gentle routines, like preparing favorite foods or consistent rest times, which would help you feel secure. He might incorporate simple rituals like a shared cup of warm tea or a quiet storytelling session before sleep, creating a comforting rhythm to your day

•When faced with moments of frustration or difficulty, especially when the regressor struggles to communicate, Senshi would be endlessly patient. He might sit down beside you, waiting quietly until you're ready to interact or offer comfort. His approach would be slow and gentle, always allowing you to set the pace of their interactions

If you're in the basic criteria , are DSMP fans, vivziep0p fans , h0tel/h3lluva b0ss fans, Owl h0use fans, St4r butterfly fans, Ghibli fans, ddlg/abdl blogs, nsfw/k!nk blogs, anti-agere blogs, or anti Christians/Christianity blogs : just dont interact !

[aerbiscuit]

So, this may be a super silly idea, but bear with me.

Giants are intriguing fantasy creatures. Depending on how big they are, their existence has massive implications for wherever they live. What do they eat, and how much/often do they have to do so? What is their population size? Where do they live that has enough room for them all? How does their waste not make large stretches of land filthy?

And, most importantly… do they fart?

No, for real, I’ve often thought about this. As a kid, I was taught that cow burps and farts contain huge amounts of methane that could threaten the atmosphere. Now, of course, I know that there are a ton of factors at play in this claim, all of which turn this glimmer of a fact into a misleading claim. (While cow farts, and especially burps, do contain a large amount of methane, the largest contributions to climate change are still human pollution and fossil fuel usage. Cow gas is remarkably small in comparison and we can change their diets to decrease their methane production anyway.)

Still, this has always made me wonder about the gas output of giants. How would their flatulence affect smaller creatures and the world around them?

… well, I now have a gassy mythology about giants. Read on for a peculiar fairy tale.

In my fantasy AU, giants exist. However, they all live on a small continent (which to them is a large island) far in the middle of a distant sea. This land is perfectly suited for their needs. A few large races of animals exist for them to eat meat from time to time, and certain quickly-growing species of fauna provide them with continuous sources of vegetation. They also eat bugs by breeding, collecting, and chowing down on them at once, kinda like how whales can subsist off large amounts of krill. The land is also large enough for them to handle the subject of their waste, which they’ve developed systems to dispose, reuse, and/or filter. They’re a smart race of beings and can live sustainably in their home country. However, they largely stay where they are, and any giant who attempts to travel to the smaller lands is seen as foolhardy and asking for trouble.

Legends say that the reason for the giants' isolation (stories which both the giants and the smaller folk tell) come from a time when lots of giants travelled around the world. Giants were friendly, and even set up homes in smaller lands to learn from the tiny races. There are still a few stories of friendly giants, and the good that they can do.

Unfortunately, many of the smaller races saw the giants as a threat. If a giant didn’t have the time or resources to set up food sources (bug farming, bringing livestock, etc.), they’d need to eat from the small folks’ land, which the small folk saw as decimating their resources. Giants also had to do a LOT of research into where they could piss or shit, unless they didn’t mind accidentally flooding or burying valuable land. As thoughtful as most giants are, you couldn’t help the occasional emergency, or just the handful of people who weren’t as considerate as the others.

And of course, there was the gas. Giants need to break wind too. It’s hard to stay around someone when one of their farts sounds like a thunderclap and produces clouds of smog that take up to an hour or so to fully dissipate. And if a giant strayed too far from a majority bug-based diet, those farts could get numerous and gnarly.

Finally, one cruel and bigoted wizard devised a plan to make enough small folk hate the giants to banish them. He used the entire freshwater lake that a group of traveling giants had claimed for their water supply to make an eternal potion of flatulence, one that was so strong, it altered your very biology into making you sensitive to most food sources. Any meal of standard meat or veggies would turn into a night full of farts, and that’s not counting eating the standard fart fare like beans, broccoli, sprouts, dairy, etc. He cast the spell, complicating it so that only he could possibly undo it, and waited.

Soon, the damage was done, and all the giants in the area turned into giant gasbags. Even if they stayed near their camps, neighboring villages could hear choruses of belching in the distance, or smell the results of dinner on the wind. Finally, enough people got so fed up that they passed official mandates of banishment. All giants, even the ones who didn’t drink from the lake, were sent away, and threatened with war if they returned.

The giants, who are peaceful folk and newly embarrassed by their tremendous eruptions of gas, didn’t put up a fight. They all packed their bags and sailed home.

Upon their return, the giant’s cycle of reproduction showed that the spell was more permanent than expected. Any offspring of a newly gassy giant with an unmodified person became half as gassy. If two gassy giants mated, then the offspring had full fart power. After enough generations of mating, all giants became gasbags to some extent. While the giants grew used to, and even happy with, their new powers, they knew this was the last nail in the coffin of their diplomacy. Now, no giant could try to live peacefully with the smaller races. Barely any giants visit the small lands even now.

The end.

… but, of course, the world goes on after “The End,” doesn’t it?

First, there were the unintentional side effects of the lake. After the expulsion of the giants, the wizard quickly used the last of his remaining power to neutralize the water. However, some damage was already done. While humans were the majority of the small races to hold issue with giants, most of the demi-humans (goat-mans, centaurs, satyrs, etc.) had no issue with giants and were happy to hang out with them, share meals with them…. and drink with them. This is the theory of why these races are flatulent even beyond their animal counterparts’ abilities. Their guts have been forever tainted by the same brew that doomed the giants.

Some of the demi-humans who liked the permanent changes to their digestive tracts acted quickly, bottling some of the water before the wizard neutralized his work. These potions of flatulence are incredibly rare, and possibly no more than legends, but people search for them to this day.

Then there are the members of the small races who don’t mind venturing out to visit the giants. After all, no rule was set up that they couldn’t visit, although some years had to pass before the giants were in a good enough mood to be visited. This is how the small amount of giant-to-small-person communication and research still persists.

And who knows? Maybe in enough time, relations will improve enough to reach the level that they used to be.

Until then, most giants will stay at home, entertaining only the most friendly (or peculiarly inclined) members of the races who banished them.

[igetthedisneybox]

Héctor Madrigal

Inspired by @hannahhook7744's Encanto AU, and her own character headcanons.

Third image made using https://picrew.me/en/image_maker/1558575

Fourth image made using https://www.dolldivine.com/la-colombiana

Fifth image is a model of one of the Encanto kids I edited.

Héctor’s full name is Héctor Gregorio Madrigal.

His first name means “hold fast”, and his middle name means “watchful”. 

He is the third adopted child of Camilo Madrigal and Marcos Vasquez.

He has straight dark brown hair, light brown skin, and brown eyes. 

He is six years old.

He has two biological brothers, Hugo, older by eight years, and Héctor, older by three. 

He is currently uninterested in romance and sex.

His gift is the ability to turn into animals. His powers work similarly to Camilo’s, and he can only hold a shape for so long. He’s in love with his powers, and uses them mostly to turn into different types of birds, so he can fly.

His door portrays him smiling, with his right arm turning into a wing, and his left turning into a furry, clawed arm, while his forehead sprouts horns.

His room can change sizes, depending on what type of animal he becomes. Similar to Antonio’s room, it has a jungle theme, but instead of there being one big tree, it's almost an entire jungle. His bed and other amenities are at the front of the jungle, by a small pond.

His symbol is a jackalope.

Camilo tries to get Héctor out of his shell more than Marcos, and get him involved in theater and helping the community.

Marcos lets him be more shy, believing that he’d be more social when he was ready. Héctor likes to turn into various animals and sleep in Marcos’ lap.

His birth parents died when he was just a baby, so he has no memory of them. According to his brothers, they were very neglectful, so he has a negative opinion of them.

He and Hugo are both quiet, and get along well. Héctor sometimes feels overprotected by him, but that only happens as he gets older.

José is very loud and hyper compared to him, and so they don’t spend a lot of time together. When they do, José tries to parent him like Hugo and their actual parents do. 

He hangs out with Avila, Amada, Tomás, Rómulo, Mariana, and Zoe. He also stays glued to Miranda quite a lot.

He gets along best with Julieta, Antonio, and Miranda.

He and Miranda love to fly together.

Hugo’s service animal, Pepito the toucan, loves Héctor, and will hang out with him when Hugo doesn’t need him.

He loves fútbol, and is very good at it. He and the other Encanto children will play games literally all day.

He always carries a little backpack on him, full of all sorts of different animal food for emergencies.

He’s naturally very good at swimming, even in human form. He and Amada like to swim together.

His favorite colors are light blue, gray, turquoise, and brown.

[eri-pl]

Silm Advent calendar 10: Grass

With special dedication / thank you for @erendur (you will see, why :) )

“Why are they digging up the soil?” asked Finrod.

Balan smiled. “It's not just soil, it's hyacinth bulbs.”

They sat on a log. The wind brought smells of decomposing leaves and early frost. Balan’s wife and two sisters worked with shovels in a distance, singing a simple work song about the sun setting and rising.

“You eat hyacinths?” For the Eldar they were one of the many plants of Beleriand that proved somewhat toxic, but maybe the Men reacted differently?

Now his friend outright laughed. “Do we look like fools? They are for growing. To have some color in the winter.”

“But they're dead.” The bulbs were dark and lifeless, with nothing green to them.

Balan glanced at him with knotted brows, as if suspecting Finrod of joking at his expense (he had done this a couple times, and despite it being always friendly, he probably shouldn't have).

“I am not jesting. I genuinely do not know how to grow anything from a dead bulb.”

Balan sat silent for a while, then his face relaxed. “You don't have winters, do you?”

“Yes and no—” Finrod ignored the usual sigh. Despite what Men said, ‘yes and no’ was often a good answer to questions. “We— Aman does have snow, but the plants don't die, unless they're needed to.”

“Our plants have some tricks… But you'll see.”

The snow fell silently outside and Finrod warmed his hands on the …Men would probably call this unshapely thing a vase. It was filled with warm water and stood near the heath, but not too near. On the top of the vase sat a pale purplish bulb, and on the top of the bulb emerged a tiny green sprout.

Balan entered the room with a bundle of wood, dropping snow everywhere. “See? I told you they have some tricks.”

Mid-winter passed and days grew longer, but not yet warmer. The Men barely had enough food., But they had flowers. There was something both foolish and beautiful in this. 

In the four containers — Finrod still couldn't force himself to call them vases — purple hyacinths bloomed, filling the tiny room with their spring-like smell.

Balan whittled a wooden creature for his nephew and hummed. 

“Shouldn't they be growing in the ground?” Finrod asked him. Outside the snow was patchy after a short-lived thawing.

“Yes, but it's still too cold. We'll plant them back in the spring when the high frost stops coming, and then they'll bloom even better, and in more colors.”

“And then in autumn you'll dig them out again?”

“If we're still here. We move a lot, you know.”

Finrod turned from the window back to Balan. “I wonder… would you like to move to Nargothrond for some time?”

“I— But—”

“If you don't want to, I understand! Please, don't feel as if I demand anything from you. It was just a thought, I didn't mean to offend you.”

“Offend me? I'd love to. But I'm just a man.” Balan looked down at his whittling, uneasy.

“And I'm just an Elf. And I'm inviting you for a visit, as long as you wish. You can bring some of those hyacinths with you. They’ll remind you of home.”

[nethhiri]

Marooned: Chapter 3

Kid x FemReader x Killer

Warnings: None I think

Bull-headed

The wild, red hair that sprouted from the man's head unmistakably belonged to Eustass Kid. Orange eyes aflame with rage glared at you as the man snatched the goggles you had discarded from the ground and placed them on his head. It was all coming together in your head. Of course you didn't recognize Killer. His face was normally hidden behind a shield of blue and white. The thing you had initially identified as a stupid looking colander was what remained of Killer's mask. It, along with Kid's goggles, must have been ripped from the two men in the tumultuous sea. 

You took a step back to put some distance between you and he. This wasn't the first time you had met these two particular pirates. The first time had been a very long time ago, when they were just starting out as pirates and you were just a cadet. For a moment you were nervous that he might recognize you, though with the right half of your face being disfigured since then, it was unlikely. In that brief meeting years ago, you had the upper hand. Sizing him up now though... If you were at your best, you still weren't sure you could take him. He was much smaller the last time you saw him. Well, as small as one Eustass Kid could be. Currently though, he was back up on his feet at his full height of 6'9" and he had a murderous aura about him, which snapped you to the present.

"Wait," you had your hands up in the universal gesture for 'I mean no harm' and I'm stalling for time.  "Without me, he'll die," you said, nodding your head in the direction of the Kid Pirates' first mate. It was sort of a lie. The truth was that he would probably be fine as long as he didn't get an infection and someone sewed him up soon. 

Kid looked at his crewmate and looked back to you. He looked like he was contemplating how true that really was. 

You continued, "I was going to get my first-aid kit when you..." There was a dull ache in your neck. "...pretty rudely attacked me for no reason."

Kid's lip curled. "FI-. Fine." He winced as his voice cracked. Kid massaged his Adam's apple and cleared his throat. "But if he dies, then you die." You could tell he kept his voice low to avoid another crack, but his demeanor didn't change. 

Turning, you wondered if he would use this opportunity to attack you again, but he must have believed you because you weren't being tackled or choked out. You could feel his smirk burning into your back, though, as you went to fetch your things. Wish I still had seastone bullets. What use is an emergency gun if the threat is a magnetic son of a bitch? It was your turn to glare. With narrowed eyes, you gave the middle finger in Mini's general direction. "Thanks for helping, you ass," you muttered. Some twigs snapped in response. 

It only took a minute to grab the things you needed and within 15 minutes you were back. The Red Menace was sitting next to Killer, cross-legged, with a jar tipped back into his mouth. Y/C/E flicked to the other empty jars on the ground next to him and your temper flared. "HEY! What in the hell do you think you're doing, helping yourself to my food?" For just a second, he looked like a boy who got caught with his hands in the cookie jar. 

A look of guilt flashed across his face before it was replaced with a scowl. "I was fucking hungry." 

Tossing your things to the ground next to Killer, you flopped down with a huff. "Yeah well. You better get used to it." Orange eyes watched you intently as you took out some sinew and a needle made from a tiny rib bones. Expertly, you threaded your needle and decided to start on the leg wound. It was still nice and clean under the cloth from earlier. You repositioned the flesh to properly plan your stitches. It was a little jagged, but it wouldn't be difficult. Plenty of time had passed on the island, you had your fair share of injuries with only yourself to fix them. Probably good thing he's out because this is gonna hurt a little. With deft hands, you worked at closing the gash. Your eyes flicked between what you were doing and Kid. His knuckles were white and he was craning his neck to watch what you were doing. "Can you do something other than hover? Something productive?" His scowl deepened at that so you were taking it as a "no". He wasn't making you nervous. Actually he was kind of annoying you. You finished stitching Killer's leg within the next few minutes and bit the excess off. Examining the finished product, you nodded, satisfied. 

A deep sigh left the captain across from you. Was he holding his breath? Is he really that worried? That's actually... Not what you expected. Cute even. Cute wasn't the right word. Refreshing, that even the ruthless Captain Kid seemed to care this much over his partner. For the first time, you noticed that along with the empty food jars, Kid had grabbed his first mate's broken mask too.

You shifted over to move behind Killer's head, gently lifting it to be propped up on your crossed legs and trying to sort through the blond mane to map the entirety of the laceration. God there's so much hair. "I think I might have to cut some of it away." You were talking to yourself, but you felt the giant next to you bristle.

"ABSOLUTELY FUCKING NOT." 

"I am right next to you. You don't have to yell." If your hands weren't occupied separating Killer's hair, you might have thrown them. You looked him up and down, with a scowl to match his own. "Seriously, go make yourself useful. Find something to eat, since you ruined my dinner." Naturally, your voice had authority in it. You did used to have a crew of your own after all. 

Kid must have picked up on it. "Oh? You know who I am and you still think you can give me an order?" His head was cocked to the side. 

You got your needle ready again, only briefly considering stabbing him, before starting to mend Killer's head. So he wants to play this game...  You planning on being nice and helping him, helping them both, by showing him what he could and could not eat. You weren't going to waste precious calories arguing. "Sorry... you're right." You sighed. "I'll finish up here and leave you to it." This island was lush, no doubt, but it took you a long time to figure out which things you could eat without shitting yourself silly the next day. It'll build character to let Eustass Kid struggle. You ignored him until you were done with the last stitches. "All set." 

You stood up and brushed yourself off. "I'll find you later so I can check on him. I don't need you hunting me down because his wounds got infected." You gathered your things into the sled that was still waiting from your excursion this morning. "Not to give you an order or anything, but you can put his clothes back on. I cleaned them." The wet clothes that Kid had been in earlier had long since dried with a thin, salty crust. 

"WHATEVER."

________________

Next

Since this story is based on my OC, here she is so you can have an idea of what reader's scars look like.

AO3 link

[bazpango]

Crack, cont'd: [aka the LightGojoverse, pt 3]

[part 1] [part 2]

Thursday

“Buddy, c’mon. Pencil moving.” 

“They’re still on the weather!”

“Oh,” Satoru says, ducking his head out of the kitchen, “so they are.”

It's not that the kid's a liar, but it just so happens that today is Thursday, December 22nd; Fushiguro Megumi is officially twelve years old. A lot slides in the Gojo house on birthdays, but not homework.

Satoru darts out of the kitchen. Two plates of tamagoyaki balance on one arm, a leather crossbody is tucked under the other. A toothbrush hangs out of his mouth. He looks positively rabid, and the toothpaste foam isn't helping. “Eat up," he orders, tapping the still-blank worksheet, "this is due today, right?”

Megumi answers with a groan. His head thuds into the kotatsu, and yes, so it would seem this is due today. He is still in his pyjamas.

“I’m going to fail. Can’t I just skip?” 

“Not if you want to go to the arcade after school,” Satoru hollers, already running out of the room again.

It's one of those mornings where it feels like the sky is falling. They're only a little late, but those extra thirty minutes—as a treat!—have set them back forty five. When Gojo returns, it is with two slices of birthday cake and a plastic bag.

"This is a lot of food."

"You don't have to finish what you don't want, but make a wish before the wax gets everywhere," Satoru says, passing Megumi his slice of cake, lighting the candle as he goes. He tosses the small plastic bag on the kotatsu, directly on top of Megumi's unfinished assignment. The kid's eyes light up the second he sees it.

"S'that my birthday present?"

"That?" Satoru jokes, acting quizzical, "Better open it and find out."

Like a dog at the races, Megumi snatches the bag and rips it open. The bow, the box, and the manual go flying.

"Holy shit!"

"Language, buddy."

"Sorry," Megumi says, and no he is not sorry one bit. He pulls out a brand new, state-of-the-art, Moto RAZR V3, smiling like, well a kid ought to. He doesn't smile nearly enough, and Satoru remembers why they're having refined sugar so early in the morning.

"Complete with MP3 and MPEG-4 accessibility. Do you like it?"

"What's that?"

Satoru shrugs between bites of Megumi's cake, he finished his already. "Uhh. The kiosk lady said it was good."

"It has games!"

"It does, only a few. Don't download anymore."

"Ok."

"And don't use the internet."

"Ok."

"And I put my number in there for emergencies."

"Ok."

"Do you want me to show you how to find it?"

"Ok."

"Hey," Satoru flips the phone closed, hands enveloping Megumi's. Maybe he should have said this part first. Even though Megumi doesn't much act like one most of the time, he is still a kid. "It's important you know how to reach me, if you ever need me. I'll always answer, and if I can't for whatever reason, it has Nanami's number as well. Okay?"

"Ohkaaaaaaaaay."

Next year Megumi will be a teenager. His body is already hinting at manhood, and Satoru realizes that when they go clothes shopping he'll also have to pick up a set of safety razors for the peach fuzz just sprouting on his bottom lip. It's bittersweet. Satoru takes another bite of cake.

"Hey," he repeats, dropping his hands and squeezing Megumi's shoulders.

"If you want to go to a friend's after school—"

"Ugh, stop."

"—or bring someone to the arcade tonight, just lemme know."

"Gojoooo."

"Okay, okay, s'all good. We're cool, we're cool." Satoru takes his hands off Megumi like he's touched a too-hot pan. Five years he's been negotiating. He knows when not to push, and has pushed already. "Just don't text too much, yeah?"

"Yeah."

The phone is for emergencies. That is what Satoru will tell him on the drive to school. But the lady at the kiosk was so very nice, and when she offered a—frankly, ridiculously expensive—payment package that included unlimited SMS messaging, Satoru grew hopeful and a plan unfolded before his eyes. Megumi's growing into his independent phase, and there's nothing like a little reverse-psychology to invoke a twelve year old to rebel against The Man.

Satoru is smiling wistfully, until the lady on the television throws back from the weather and Megumi's head snaps up. "I need to write this down."

"What, exactly?"

"We have to do a group broadcast at school, like we're on the news. Step 1 is to break down a real one."

"Cool."

"Another attack in Shibuya this week in what the NPA is suspecting to be connected to a series of terrorist attacks."

"Woah." Megumi grabs his pencil. "Cool."

Satoru turns around to face the television. "Not cool."

He doesn't watch the news, or television for the matter, often—more of a movie buff. Crime prevention is an industry that in and of itself is usually corrupt, and therefore there is no need for sorcerers to cooperate with civilian law enforcers. It's a one-sided agreement by sorcerers that everyone stays on their side of the fence.

Now that he thinks about it, his opinions aren't flattering about a lot of civilian systems. The police, the press, the man in the ugly brown suit and orange spray tan, they're all—in their own, rotten little ways—technically making Satoru's job harder. If it bleeds, it leads. Money makes the world go round, and fear makes the money. Etc. They're generating fear, in turn, making more curses. Hurting more people.

For a minute, Satoru thinks maybe it is better to just let the kid fail civics.

The ugly orange man throws to Cindy, a less ugly woman, and she is doing a live hit in some sort of conference room. Satoru, realizing that they're now running quite a bit more late than intended, buttons the last remaining of his shirt in a frenzy.

"We are just waiting for the Chief to take the podium…"

Megumi won't be attending Jujutsu Tech until he's of age, which is another year and a half of civilian school. The change will be disorienting, and there's a fear that Satoru's poisoning the well by letting him watch this stuff. He just had to let the kid's homework slip, and they just had to analyze a terrorist investigation. Maybe his teacher will award points for flair, if she's cool.

"Gojo?"

"Yeah, buddy?"

"Isn't that—"

"Yagami Light, Chief of the NPA is taking the podium now."

Holy shit.

Satoru's hands are stuck, frozen on the top button of his shirt.

"You need to brush your teeth. Get a move on."

"But my assignment?"

"Go brush your teeth," he orders, more stern than is deserved on one's birthday. He makes up for it. "I'll take care of your assignment."

"Fuck yeah."

"Language!"

"Sorry!" Megumi hollers, racing out of the room. Nearly bouncing off the walls with his new phone and newer found freedom. Fortunately, he is seemingly unfazed by the sudden outburst, even though it makes Satoru's chest clench.

He stares. Fixated. The man smiling back is Yagami Light, or someone wearing his skin. His smile is so big and white and foreign in its fakeness. It's fascinating.

He is wearing a dark gray suit (very, very well). His hair is pushed back into something professional and understated. Satoru can't quite believe this is the man who's bruised his prostate.

"What's wrong with the tv?" Megumi asks, brushing in the hallway.

Satoru picks up the remote and flips to another channel and back again, shrugging at Megumi. The more Yagami Light talks, the more pixels die in the operator's camera. He hadn't noticed. It gets so bad they have to cut the live hit short.

So, Yagami is the Chief of the NPA.

Looks like they both got a present.

---

Friday

"Find anything?"

"Light," Matsuda sags into his chair, hands anxiously stroking his thighs. He's wearing blue jeans. "I can't find someone with only one name to go on. I just can't do it."

"Sure you can," he counters, and Matsuda wilts. Eight days a week, he's useless, but it's when Light says he's capable that he really flounders. So much for positive reinforcement.

"Well, maybe I could conduct some interviews and build a profile, but you haven't even told me what kind of crime this guy's committed."

"It's complicated," Light says, "not impossible."

Today is Friday, and Matsuda is wearing blue jeans. Everyone is wearing blue jeans, except for Light. Friday is, by far, the most stressful day of the week, and today is no exception. The Monday-through-Thursday grind always lags until there is a comically large pile of shit to sort through before end of day. Whoever decided to throw Casual into the mix ought to be castrated. There is only so much time in the day to judge the wicked and punish the damned, and adding 'investigate one supposedly uninvestigatable fuck buddy' to the mix is just too tall an order, so he must rely on Matsuda today.

"It started with an S."

"Yes, I know," Matsuda nods, frenzied. Like he ought to get a gold star for listening.

"Can't you get the ball rolling with that?"

"S…Gojo. In law enforcement. Innnn…"

"Tokyo. A private company. Security, maybe." Light waves his hand like he's listing off grocery store ingredients. "Start there."

"There has to be dozens of companies like that, hundreds of emplo-"

"-Well it sounds like you better get a move on, then."

"I dont know, Light…"

"And what's the plan for you and Misa Saturday?" Light taps at his keyboard, copying several files to a thumb drive. The screen is bright, and he didn't sleep well, which is going to set him back even farther than he'd hoped. He's going to have to take his work home with him.

"Light," Matsuda exhales, "that's terrible."

"What?" Light spins in his chair to face Matsuda when he doesn't answer, and he looks like a sad, orphaned dog. To think he's in any place to judge anyone. He's wearing a Timex for God's sake.

"…You're really not going to spend Christmas Eve with Misa?"

"One more thing."

"Light!" Matsuda exclaims, switching gears when it's clear Light isn't going to dignify his asinine question,"we've talked about this."

"Have we?"

“I can't be your assistant."

"Sure you can."

Matsuda exhales, "are you alright?" and with it, the last of his dignity for the day. He might as well clock out so Light can lead the manhunt.

Light is not alright. Light is fucking fantastic; he is the Chief of the NPA, he is wearing a Balmain suitjacket in charcoal, and he got sucked off by his girlfriend before Matsuda even gained consciousness this morning. Perhaps he still hasn't.

"If you don't like our current assistant we can hire a better fit. She is still on probation."

Light scoffs.

"Did someone call for me?" Takada asks, rounding the corner with a tray of coffees in hand like some comic relief in a prime time sitcom.

"Flowers," Light says flatly to Takada, "Saturday. Order flowers for Misa."

Does he have to do everything?

Lunch passes into late afternoon without consequence, and Light works straight through it. The rope of his esophagus whines and he has to physically restrain himself from gagging. His stomach feels like it is eating itself, but minimizing the amount of actual work for the weekend is paramount, here. Work hard. Play hard. Fuck the big dick blonde so hard he goes cross eyed.

"Um, Light?"

He turns in his chair to meet Matsuda. Sheepish thing, he's poking his head through the door like he's expecting a firing squad on the other side.

"Did you eat?"

"No, did you?"

"Yes, um," Matsuda shakes his head, "Listen-"

"-Good," Light says, a stack of manilla envelopes beside him. He gathers them in his hands, and flutters them in the air with emphasis. "These came in an hour ago. You need to sort them before day's end."

"U-um," Matsuda stutters.

"Why do you look so queasy?" Maybe he gambled again on a bad seafood boil at one of the new street vendors. He's always gambling in the name of adventure. Adventure, on a plate? Sad.

"I, um. Well. Gojo-"

Light brightens, rising from his seat. "Oh, you found something-"

"-Is in the lobby."

"What?"

Matsuda creeks the door open until, sure enough.

Lounging on the three seater Corbusier in the task force's lobby is Gojo. He's dressed in a black overcoat and has chosen Cartier sunglasses, a Montblanc briefcase, and a comically large scarf to accessorize. "Hiya," Gojo smiles, teeth blinding, and Light drops the stack of casefiles. "Have you had lunch, yet?"

"Oh no," Matsuda exclaims, darting to the mess. "Sorry Light, I'll sort these right away!"

"Okay," Light hears his mouth say, but he doesn't feel it moving. If he had a nickel for every time an obsessive blonde invaded his personal life, well.

Matsuda stands, a massive unorganized mess in his arms, and whispers, "should I arrest him?"

"What, no?" Light barks. "What are you doing here?" he asks Gojo.

"I owe you a proper lunch," Gojo says, shrugging. Like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"It's four thirty."

"No time like the present, right?"

"…I have a lot of work to get through."

"Oh, work!" Gojo bursts, rising from his seat. "I have a tip for you, regarding the KIRA case."

Matsuda gasps, spinning on his heels. Three sheets of paper flutter to the floor. He drops to pick them up.

"Do you?" Light narrows his gaze, lost.

He doesn't like this, not knowing the rules, or even what game they're playing. Gojo is a loose canon, and there's a not so slim chance he's going to follow Light home. Part of him wants to take Matsuda up on his offer to put the guy in cuffs and throw him in a jail cell. Peace of mind and all that.

"Yeah, I saw you on tv when I was getting Megumi ready for school, he says hi by the way." Sure, Light thinks. "And I have a theory about KIRA that I think really holds water."

"Light, isn't that amazing? It's been months and," Matsuda pants, practically slobbering on the proverbial tennis ball, "we haven't had a lead since Ryuzaki di—"

"Fuck! Matsuda!" Light interrupts, and for fuck's sake, he's losing it. He's fucking shouted in the office and it's all too late. He never shouts in the office.

Gojo's leaning in the doorway to the task force, head tilted curiously.

"That your partner?" Gojo asks, and Light feels like his chest is caving in.

"No, that's Misa-Misa," Matsuda says, and if Light can't find a way to fire him by Monday he'll at least make sure the denim wearing fuck is drowning in General Data Protection and Confidentiality in the Workplace training.

"Oh!" Gojo says, surprised. "Misa-Misa, the idol?"

"Yeah!" Matsuda cheers, and Light might actually die.

"Wow, that's…wow."

It doesn't take a rocket scientist to see all the skeletons falling out of Light's closet in rapid succession. "Did Megumi have a good birthday?" Light redirects, sweating.

"He did, we made onigiri and watched the Saw movies."

"You had something to say about the KIRA case," Matsuda prods, and Light exhales, relieved. He never thought he'd see the day he'd be thankful that Matusda is the one asking the questions.

"Yeah. But I actually just realized I need to be somewhere." Gojo drops his head slightly and his glasses slide down his nose. He makes direct eye contact with Light and his are so pointedly icy blue that Light can feel his blood run cold. "Maybe I can come by tomorrow?"

Light's phone sits heavy in his pocket.

"Oh, it's Christmas Eve, we won't be here." Matsuda explains.

"I'd be willing to make a house call," Gojo volleys. "Any plans tomorrow, Yagami?"

"Well, if it's pertaining to KIRA…" Matsuda considers, looking at Light and tapping at the stack of papers in his arms. He then takes in a sharp breath, and Light knows he's got an idea. "There's no way I'm getting through all of this today. Why don't we take his statement tomorrow, We can do dinner at my place! We'll do KFC!"

"Sure." Light grits his teeth, caught in so many crosshairs. "Great. KFC. Your place."

"Takada can give you my address," Matsuda says, struggling with the loose leafs.

"Sure, it's a date," Gojo says with a wink. "See you Saturday."

 ---

Saturday

"You made it!" Matsuda cheers, opening the door. His apartment complex is painfully ordinary. So is his sweater.

"Don't sound so surprised," Light chides. "Sorry we're late."

"You're right on time! Gojo and Megumi just got here with the chicken."

"G-"

"-We brought chocolates," Misa interrupts, and Matsuda gasps. They're like two kids during Show and Tell.

"Ooh, chocolates!" exclaims the disembodied voice of Gojo, inside Matsuda's apartment, and Light's entire body stiffens. They'd made a plan, albeit a ridiculous one. He shouldn't sound so surprised, even though he is. His phone vibrates in his pocket.

Gojo: so when u said saturday Gojo: this wat u had in mind ?

They make their way into the foyer, and Matsuda seals them in with the heavy thunk of a deadbolt. "Shoes off, please."

Light wants to keep them on just to assert his dominance. Matsuda's never ordered him to do anything before.

"I don't want food to get cold, but, do you guys want a quick tour before we eat?"

"Please! I can't believe Light and I have never been over!"

"He has a life outside of work, Misa," Light says, playfully. Cool as a goddamn cucumber. He takes off his shoes.

"Not really," Matsuda jokes, smiling depricatingly at Misa. Yeah, yeah, get a room, why don't you? "At least not with KIRA out there. Right, Light?"

"Right," Light placates, smiling stiffly.

They take a brief, unnecessary tour of the two bedroom, and then Matsuda and Misa abandon Light with Gojo and the kid in the living room. Light falls into a sofa chair as far away from anyone as he can manage. It is a small apartment.

"Long time, no see," Gojo says with a smirk. "You remember Megumi."

"Megumi," Light acknowledges. Jaw off kilter. He couldn't have gotten a sitter? "Happy belated."

The child plays on a cell phone, gangly legs hanging over the couch.

"Megs," Gojo warns, "someone is talking to you. Be polite."

The kid lowers the cell phone a single half inch, says thanks, flatly, and then resumes whatever game he was playing. So, that's what passes for politeness in the Gojo house. Parent of the year over here.

"How's work been?" Light asks.

"Oh, great."

"Catch a lot of bad guys?"

"Liars, cheats, and scoundrels, it's what I do best."

"Sounds like a lot."

"This month's been pretty slow." Gojo says with a smirk. "I've just caught the one cheater, so far."

Light's cheeks burn. Gojo looks good. He always looks good. It's annoying.

"What's he talking about?" Megumi asks Gojo, and that confusion in is tone makes Light smile.

"Your not-dad, he works in law enforcement."

"What? No he doesn't."

"-Don't worry about it, Megs," Gojo assures, crossing his arms. He's all smiles, too. Not disappointed in the slightest that he's been outed as a liar.

They're both smiling. Then Misa walks in and ruins everything.

"Who's hungry!"

---

Light is dead.

There is simply no other explanation.

It is Christmas Eve, and Light is eating fried chicken with his wine-drunk girlfriend, least favourite coworker, illicit fuck buddy, and his illicit fuck-buddy's bastard kid.

For the last forty minutes, Matsuda has been playing detective while Gojo has been playing footsies under the table.

"Misa," Gojo says, deflecting. "An idol, what's that like? It must be incredible."

"Oh," she hiccups, "I don't want to bore you! It isn't all that glamorous, really." Her other arm is stroking Light's back. Her nails are long and they come to a point at the end. It's something new she's trying out. Light instantly pictures medieval torture devices and wonders how much it would hurt if she tried to claw his eyes out with them.

"Nonsense," Gojo debates with a smug smile, egging her on, and Matsuda steps in to boast about his managerial expertise. He's drunk as well, satisfied with his interrogation of Gojo that yielded, as expected, no new insights into the KIRA case. The more he waxes on about Misa's success and his minimal part in it, the more exaggerated Gojo nods. His foot continues to travel up Light's pant leg as he feigns innocent and curious above table.

Light checks his watch for the umteenth time that hour. If he found a way to get Gojo's wallet, he could have everyone here dead in the next two minutes. Faces slumped into their plates. Death by fried chicken.

Gojo's foot climbs up his leg and settles between them. Light coughs into his wine.

"Are you alright, Light?" Matsuda asks, "do you need a glass of water?"

"Nope, I'm-" Light begins, and then Gojo takes his foot off the gas, only to press even harder on his dick. "M'good," he chokes out, coughing harder. "M'just gonna use the restroom. Excuse me."

The chair makes a sharp sound when Light extricates himself, and he thinks if Matsuda ever gets the balls to woo Misa proper, he'll send him a cheque for the scuffs. No one is the wiser when he leaves the room except for Gojo, smiling like the village idiot he is.

When he makes it to the restroom, he collapses onto the lid of the toilet and exhales, long and shaky. His pulse has quickened and it's making his skin hot. He undoes the top button of his dress shirt.

Knock, knockknock.

"It's me," Gojo whispers, and Light curses under his breath. He wants to run.

"C'mon, lemme in," Gojo asks.

The bathroom feels like a coffin. Everything is telling him not to open the door, but Gojo is knocking again and Light stands, unsure how far the sound of it travels in Matsuda's apartment.

His hand shaking on the doorknob, turnlock heavy under his thumb. He doesn't want to open it at all. "Fuckingfuck," Light mutters. His free hand pulls at his hair. The walls are closing in on him.

"What's going on? You ok?"

You, you're fucking what's going on. Light wants to scream, and he just might if Misa weren't here to run to his rescue.

His pocket vibrates.

Gojo: lemme in :P Gojo: plz ?

He's sweating and it's ruining his shirt. There's no way out. Bested, he unlocks the door and silently ushers Gojo into the bathroom.

"You're actually a stalker," Light chides, and Gojo laughs. "What's so funny about that?"

He has to argue at a reduced volume, but the disdain is there. He hasn't drank much tonight—a lesson learned from their first meeting that he can't trust himself when he does. Still, his cheeks burn like he'd raided Matsuda's liquor cabinet.

Gojo is smiling like he's won something, and says "you and Misa make a cute couple." L was a sore loser, but Gojo's a sore winner, and Light hates that far more. His jaw tenses.

"I like her." Snide bastard, he's smiling like he actually does.

"No you fucking don't," Light seethes.

Gojo chuckles, and it's a laugh he hasn't heard before. "You're really one to talk, Light."

"I don't know what you think you-"

"-Does it ever get tiring, lying all the time?"

"I haven't lied to you once."

"You have a fucking girlfriend," and finally, finally there's some grit in his voice, too. Light can work with that. Gojo's favourite toy has been taken away; it's understandable that he's lashing out. Light is everyone's favourite.

"Oh, I'm sorry? I didn't think it bothered you," Light barks, "seeing as how you were foot-fucking me under the goddamn table."

"You loved it."

"I-"

"You love making her look stupid. It's mean." Gojo steps forward and his hand swiftly goes between Light's legs. They can both feel the half hardness in his pants that Light can't explain. "See? You're a bad person," Gojo says under his breath, eyes searching.

"…Why did you come to my work?"

"Well, funny story. Someone made Christmas Eve plans with me and then cancelled. So."

"Rescheduled," Light corrects.

"It isn't rescheduling if you don't follow up with the person."

"I was going to."

"I don't believe you."

"So instead of, oh, I don't know, taking the hint, ygh-" Light looks for the words, which is hard to do when your balls are in a vice grip. He gestures wildly to the kitchen. "You decided this is how you wanted to spend your Christmas Eve?"

"Well, not exactly," Gojo admits, tilting his head. "But I think Megs is having a good time."

Light's voice drops low. They need to get out of the restroom. "I just needed to tie up a few loose ends. I was going to call. I really was." He isn't sure if he's lying.

The loose end scream-laughs in the dining room and the sound travels all the way to the bathroom. Matsuda's own laughter chases it.

"I'm sorry I, I didn't explain my situation," Light placates, musturing his most sincere, apologetic tone. Mercifully, Gojo's grip on his sack loosens. Hook, line, and sinker. "I couldn't have you over."

"No shit," Gojo grits.

"I was going to book us a place."

"Book us a place?" He sounds insulted. "That's just sad."

It isn't sad. It is discreet. At least it was going to be, but now everything is far more messy than it was twenty four hours ago. "What do you want from me?" Light scoffs.

"I w-"

"-A boyfriend?"

"Please," Gojo laughs, proper, and doesn't that just make Light furious. He crosses his arms, and Light is, truthfully, a little insulted himself the assault hasn't turned into him facefucking Gojo to tears.

"I…" Gojo thinks, aloud, "I just wanted something fun."

"We're having fun-"

"-No, we're not. This isn't fun for me."

"So why are you here?" And the way Light asks it makes him sick. He doesn't know why his tone has softened so much.

"I…like you, I think. I hate it."

"Wow, thanks."

"I feel like, like I'm going to insane lengths to get to know you."

"What if I don't want you to?"

"Why?" Gojo asks.

"Because," Light says, soft, "this is easy. This is working. Isn't it? We both get what we want, don't we?"

"What do I want, Light?" Gojo asks like he's on a full on soap opera. All big doe eyes and melodrama.

He thinks about the day they met, the way he waxed on and on about Suguru. Suguru, who he still has a chance with. Who's still alive and breathing.

"Your kid doesn't need a step-dad," Light cooes, something small and hateful and heavy in his gut. The indignation in his voice is completely invisible. He brushes the hair from Gojo's eyes. "This doesn't have to get any more complicated, right?"

"It already is complicated," Gojo says, quietly.

There's a silence, then, in the small bathroom, so big it feels like Light's eardrums might shatter. Gojo's head drops and for a second Light thinks he's going to attempt to hold hands.

"That's a nice watch," Gojo says, deflecting.

"It was a gift," Light submits, too unsure of where they're going to take pride in it. "My Dad bought it."

The room is tense and he doesn't want to give Gojo a tenth of what he is asking for. His eyes are sad and sullen and he feels like he is so far away. Light supposes he is.

A part of him is jealous of the very air that surrounds Gojo. Another part is afraid he'll be followed home and killed in his sleep tonight.

"He's gone now."

"How do you know that?" Light whispers.

"Death follows you, Light Yagami."

And then something truly frightening happens.

Gojo grabs his wrist, gently. His thumb swipes over the watch face, slow, and then hovers on the quick release mechanism. Light holds his breath. A piece of the Death Note is millimeters away, hidden in the watch's false bottom, and Gojo's looking right at it like he has x-ray vision.

Gojo is not an idiot. Not by a long shot. He knows far more about Light than he's letting on, and it's like Light's been walking around blindfolded all this time, completely unaware. If Gojo isn't a PI, he's some sort of cosmic karmic stalker sent from beyond L's grave to give Light his comeuppance. He's sure of it.

"What do you actually do for work," Light, voice shaky, asks. Desperate to know.

"Law enforcem-"

"Don't fucking lie to me," Light snarls, hands coming up to shove Gojo. But his hands don't even reach him in time to deliver their first blow. In a split second, Light's body is thrust into the wall and the wind is knocked from his chest.

He's sandwiched there, his little rabbit heart beats thin. Trapped in the gaping maw of a wolfhound, his ribs feel like they might break.

For a second, this is the first time he's ever felt close to death, and then he coughs and Gojo immediately lets up.

"Stop running from me," Gojo pleads, his breath hot on Light's ear.

He imagines his corpse splayed out on Matsuda's bathroom mat in a pool of his own blood. Misa, on hand and knee, wailing incoherently. He doesn't want her scream to be the last thing he hears.

"Gonna," Light heaves, "hear us."

"And that would be just terrible for you, wouldn't it?" Gojo taunts. Light coughs, and Gojo seems to ease up a bit. "She loves you, you know. You don't even care."

Light says nothing—not like he could—and Gojo shoves off of him, sickened. When Light turns around to face him, Gojo looks at him like he's killed a litter of kittens. His eyes are darting between his chest, the watch, and the dinner table. "There's something wrong with you, Light."

Light still says nothing.

"Well?"

"Well, what?" Light says. "You'll have to be a little more fucking specific."

Gojo shakes his head, and leaves the bathroom. Light is finally alone. His head is swimming, sick from lack of oxygen, and he tries to wretch into the sink but nothing comes out. When he looks in the mirror, he looks the same as he did when he entered. But everything feels off, now. He's been staring at this face for too long, a word on a page that's lost it's meaning.

When he thoroughly dusts himself off and finds himself back in his seat, Gojo is telling a story that has everyone belly laughing except for the creepy kid. He always looks at Light like he's seen a ghost.

Misa wipes a tear from her prettily made up eye with a talon. "I'm sorry you don't have a special someone to spend Christmas Eve with," she says to Gojo, and apparently it's up to Light to use context clues to figure out what they're talking about since no one wants to fill him in. "I feel like I don't know any of Light's friends at all."

"Well now we're friends, too," Gojo says to her, and he smiles. It's such a sad, pathetic little thing. "How did you and Light meet, anyway? I'd love to hear the story."

She shrieks, elated, and Gojo flashes a quick look to Light, as if to rub the salt in.

"It isn't very noteworthy," she jests to Light, all teeth and smeared lipstick. This isn't the first time she's tried to display her cunning. He could fucking strangle her. She knows he hates puns.

But he keeps his mouth shut and waits for this absurd conversation to run its course while he fills his mouth with sawdust.

"Are the potatoes alright?" Gojo asks Light.

"Perfect," Light says, "thank you."

"You just made a face is all."

Light wants to punch him in the face. He didn't make a face. Like everything, he is far too in control to ever let that happen.

But Gojo tries. He takes every opportunity to draw attention to Light every time Misa makes a particularly sappy comment about their romance. The conversation flows like bad wine and, after a bottle of it, things should feel easier, should they not? Misa hangs off Light's shoulder, and every single sentence that comes out of her mouth seems to make Matsuda shoot wine from his nose.

Matsuda excuses himself to the kitchen to clean up, and when he returns, he's brought dessert with him. Great, another course.

It's angel food cake. Decorated with strawberries and drizzled honey. Matsuda serves up a plate for everyone, saving the biggest for the kid, who actually smiles when he sees it. Light didn't know him capable.

There's a brief moment of silence as everyone takes their first bites. "Is it okay?" Matsuda asks, "I'm taking classes."

"Fantastic," Gojo cheers. "Could you teach me, sometime?"

"I'd love to!" Matsuda sings, forgetting his allegiances, and Gojo beams at Light. Yes, everyone fucking loves Gojo. He plucks a strawberry off his plate with his thumb and forefinger and brings it to his lips and Light wonders what Matsuda would do if he flipped the table.

“Light," Gojo asks.

"Yes?"

"How do you like your cake. Didn't Matsuda do a great job?"

It tastes like sandpaper. But he wasn't going to say anything. That would be rude.

“Oh no! Is it not alright? I thought it was your favourite.” Matsuda asks, and Light can't understand for the life of him why Matsuda would think that-

“Or was that Ryuzaki?” 

“You keep mentioning him," Gojo notes, "who is he?"

From the uptick of Gojo's smirk, the colour has definitely drained Light's face. Strangely, the kid's head snaps up, then. He looks scared. What the fuck is going on?

“Oh, Ryuzaki's just an old friend of ours, he worked down at the station with us. Um, he," Matsuda explains, poorly, “he's no longer with us. We lost him in the KIRA case.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. My condolences.”

“Aww, that’s so sweet of you,” Misa assures, reaching a claw over the table to pat Gojo's hand. "Don't worry. It was a long time ago."

"Were you close?"

Matsuda waits for Light to offer an answer, and when he doesn't, steps in again. "Uhh, well. Light knew him better than the rest of us, but…But he was an all around great guy. Smartest I've ever met. Like, suuuuper smart. Amazing at tennis and chess and hacking and stuff. Just like, great at everything."

"Hmm," Gojo says, holding his dessert fork to his teeth. Light can't feel his fingers. "You guys play a lot of tennis?"

“Light doesn’t like tennis," Misa interrupts. Paranoid for God knows what reason. It isn't like L can just pop out of the grave and sweep him off to Wimbledon.

"Really?" Gojo asks, pivoting. "I thought you mentioned-"

“-I’m too busy for games," Light says, flatly.

"Are you now?" He says with more emphasis, suppressing a laugh. Eyes darting from left to right, thinking he's being subtle, or maybe not. It's good fortune everyone's had their fill of wine.

“I’ll say!" Misa steps in again, "now that Ryuzaki’s gone it’s like you live at the station.” She pours herself another glass.

“Misa."

“Yes, Light?”

The kid is looking at Light, no, looking at Light's watch, and something clicks. He doesn't know how, but he knows they know. It isn't paranoia. It's clarity. There is something very wrong with this family.

"Something isn't agreeing with me," Light announces, "I think it's time for us to go. Thank you for hosting us, Matsuda." He feels so sick. 

"Oh no! Sorry I can't finish the story," she squawks, halting her pour. "I'll get the keys. Um, can you drive? I've had a couple glasses."

---

Streetlamps paint his face in burnt orange as he makes the thirteen minute drive home. Misa is curled up in a ball, sitting in a way that would have her killed if they got into an accident. The seatbelt would take her head clean off, emergency brake locking it in place and potentially severing her at the torso, too. It wouldn't hurt her, though. It would all be over far too quickly. Her nerve endings wouldn't have even a full second to sprint to her brain in warning.

"You seem off tonight."

"I'm fine," Light mumbles.

"Okay."

A few minutes pass in almost silence.

"Gojo is nice."

"Yeah."

"I invited him over next week," she utters, softly. Her voice is sad. Like she's waiting to see if she's in trouble. Light supposes if he had the energy, she would be.

"That's nice."

"Yeah, I thought it could be nice. The three of us."

The whirring of the road makes him feel like he's floating. She won't stop looking at him.

"Are you okay?" Light asks.

"Yeah."

"Okay."

He contemplates turning on the radio. The silence is awkward in a way it usually isn't, ever. He's probably imagining it. She's had a lot to drink.

"I'm sorry we talked so much about Ryuzaki."

"That's okay."

"…Do you miss him?"

"No."

"It's okay if you do. He." Her voice is chalky in the way it gets before she breaks out in tears. "…I think I kind of miss him."

"Misa," Light warns, "rest your eyes a bit. We'll be home soon."

There's a moment where she's pondering, eyes locked on Light's profile. He can always feel it when she's looking at him. She bites on her thumb and Light doesn't know if that's a little jab. Her taking her rebellion in spades and hiding it under a girlish ignorance. Neither of them willing to say the quiet part out loud.

"I love you," she says, and closes her eyes.

"You too."

---

He stares at the ceiling fan, watches it spin around and around and around.

Rise. Judge. Execute. Around and Around and Around.

Misa sleeps soundly next to him, a safe distance away in her own twin bed pushed up against his. Within arms reach, but never reaching.

He could have asked her Gojo's name on the drive home, but then she'd know.

It's a mournful discovery, how much she doesn't let on.

Gojo has to die.

---

thank you @shydroid3000 for being the best beta reader on god's green earth, may santa bring you lots of strawberries and doomed yaoi fics <3

[fizzyxcustard]

💫As a person who’s always loved Christmas, I need to learn to love every time of the year and not wish my life away. 💫

Taking this post of yourself to ask what you love the most on Christmas? And list one thing you like on every other season?

♥️

I love so many things about Christmas, but mainly the excitement and countdown of December. I love the cosiness, going to church and singing carols, watching Christmas films, cheesy Christmas music, decorating everything, and lots of good food. So, unfortunately, I can't give just one answer because I love so many things.

As for the seasons, I try to see beauty in all of them. I love the cosiness of autumn, and all the beautiful colours. Autumn is my favourite season.

Winter, I love the bright winter sun when it shines across the fallen snow and crisp frost. The cold air as it hits your lungs when you step outside.

Spring, I love the emerging plants, the sprouting leaves. The beginning of the world waking up.

Summer, I love the bright mornings and birdsong. I love the happiness in people as they talk about their holidays.

Thank you for this ask, love. Really enjoyed thinking about it. <3

[thestudentfarmer]

Hello and Good day,

Today I wanted to give some garden updates!

⭐️Things that have Sprouted ⭐️

🌱Dill. 🌱Cilantro l

🌱Jerusalem artichokes (sunchokes)

🌱Melons (sugar baby) 🌱 Honeydew (Barnyard mix)

⭐️Planted & Direct seed⭐️

🌻Ginger root. 🌻Gladiolus bulbs

🌻 Swiss chard 🌻Carrots

🌻Green beans (bush variety, Blue lake) 1st planting. (4 planned in total)

I still need to plant a few more things but currently I'm held back by lack of wood, soil and the rising heat coming in. Thankfully the sun's staying out later now too, so that should be useful

Also

my Plans currently for those curious about the beans planting cycle. As I mentioned intentions is 4 total plantings.

When the greens beans 1st planting sprouts and is a little more grown, I'll be seeding the other side of the bed with more beans, same variety. 2nd planting, when they sprout, i intend to direct seed the space around the 1st planting with a few more bush type, with a third planting to try and draw out our homes' fresh harvest. (Plus, if the first doesn't do so well, we'll at least be able to hopefully still see some sort of harvest)

_____________ _______________

Also thought this was pretty cool and wanted to share, as ya'all know I've been growing broccoli and letting it go to seed.

I cut, collected and set aside the branches si thought closest to having usable seed and~

Found ladybugs!

This one's fresh hatched I believe, some of the hatched ones were red, but most seemed a bright orange (like when butterflies emerge and dry out)

I've never seen the stage between the ladybug gator and the ladybug too. Figure most haven't, particularly those in urban and inner city areas.

This one was just resting next to the empty shell.

Some lady gators chilling. They look a bit spooky but at this stage they eat more aphids than in the adult stage. And as I learned from a web search they eat more than just aphids??

Apparently they eat aphids, scale insects, insect eggs, mealy bugs, leaf hoppers and cornworms among others? Which awesome if so!

Even if the great broccoli seed experiment doesn't work this year or next I'll likely leave a few up again, even if solely for the ladygators and future ladybugs and other beneficials in the garden.

We also found what we believe might be a buckmoth caterpillar? We aren't absolutly certain given everytime I've seen 'em, it's on a hollyhock and not what is their usual food sources? It is Possible a bird brought it over for a snack and went blegh too lol.

We know at least bare minimun it's a stinging type of caterpillar so we'll be cautious as we proceed with care of the Hollyhocks.

That's it for now, Thanks for stopping by :)

🌱🍃Happy Homesteading and Gardening🍃🌱

4.29.2024

[witchersmistress]

The Damned and The Damage

Hello Darlings!! can anyone else here this gif or is it just me?? anyway shall we progress with Harper and August?

Trigger warnings: angry, masturbation, rage, lots of it, absolute mindnumbingness. fustration, lack of self love

Word count: 3.8 K

as per usual you do not have permission to use my work, translate my work or copy it, if you do i'll find you a haunt you for the rest of your days

Harper’s POV

I don’t count the days. I know there’s something wrong with me, that this isn’t normal, but I can’t muster enough fucks to do anything about it. When the Phantom hands me a box with a brand-new iPhone, the latest model, and tells me to text whoever, I don't. No one is looking for me. I didn't bother telling him I had a third-hand phone that shut itself off for no reason, couldn’t hold a charge, and had so many cracks in the screen I could barely read an email. It makes no difference what phone I have, if I have one at all. I don’t use it except when he tells me to check in with him while he is gone. Days go by, then weeks. I know work is coming to an end, but it doesn’t matter anymore.

 Mr. D will have pulled my sponsorship, and I wouldn’t be able to face the Walkers and their friends who came back for me that night. work seems trivial and pointless like everything else. It would take effort I can’t give, and so, I don’t. One night, when I wake up mewling like some pathetic, drowning kitten, crying that they’re coming back for me, the Phantom holds me against his warm chest and tells me he’ll keep me safe, that no one will find me here if I don’t go outside. He thinks I’m scared, that I’m hiding like he is, but I’m not. I just don’t have the fight in me to leave. So, I stay. He doesn’t lock me in or even try to convince me not to go. I’m not a prisoner. I could walk out. I even went to the clinic when he told me, the pharmacy where they sent me. I took the antibiotics he handed me each day. But there’s no reason to leave again. I can exist in this neat, orderly space as well as anywhere else. Better. No one demands answers for what’s wrong with me. No one asks for things I can’t give, for me to make impossible choices. The Phantom asks so little in return for this haven in which I can exist in the bubble he’s created, not taking up any space in the world. Maybe we’re both phantoms. He feeds me, putting my food before me and taking it away when he’s done eating, never commenting on how much or little I’ve eaten. After dinner, we go onto the roof where he trims and waters flowers, sprays plants, and admires his garden. Sprouts have grown into plants, and the older ones come alive as if to show them the way—the saw-like leaves of one produce a stalk with clusters of white flowers that hang like bells; orange blossoms like curling starfish emerge from another. I won't go to the edge again. I don’t care enough to jump. I sit in the chair where he tells me to sit, like the good girl he tells me I am. When it’s time to go inside, he brings me back in. He measures me one day, touching my body with possessive thoroughness, detached and entitled, as if I’m a doll and not a human.

He runs his thumb over the silky burn scar on my hip, checks my healed hand, sets my birth control pill on the bedside table each morning. I am another plant to him, a fixture, something to tend. He cuts my fingernails, paints my toenails. He dyes my hair a richer, dark-chocolate brown, irons it straight, and brushes it in front of the only mirror in the house, on the inside of his closet door, while watching a tutorial on how to fix it in different styles. He puts a ring through my belly button and buys me makeup and a bag to keep it in. He calls me his good girl. Soon, among his usual deliveries, more clothes for me arrive—a padded bra with heavy gel inserts that make me more evenly proportioned, skirts and dresses that hug and accentuate my curves without looking trashy. I know they must be expensive, and I’ve never had clothes made for my body that fit me so well. The style is nothing I’d choose for myself, though. They’re rich girl clothes. But then I realize I don’t know what I’d choose anymore. I’m not the girl who liked tiny cut-offs that showed her thigh tattoos, who wore combat boots and hoodies. I don’t know who I am. So I try on this girl the Phantom wants me to be.

He watches with arrogant indulgence, picking out the things he doesn’t like to send back. I look at the straight-haired girl in the mirror with tits that balance her hips, with a tiny waist and red-soled shoes. I wonder if she’ll ever be me again. Every morning and evening, he fucks me quickly and efficiently as I lay there not moving, letting him extract his payment. I’m the whore August always said I was. Once, he slides up on the bed next to me when he’s done. “Want me to finish you off?” he asks. “This isn’t the kind of relationship where I’ll eat you out, but I have a vibrator and a couple clit stimulators.” My stomach clenches with revulsion, almost panic, at a memory I won’t let form. I shake my head quickly. I don’t want or need pleasure. I’d rather just lie here, my body hollow except for what he puts inside me.

August POV

She’s not fucking here. I stand at the base of what I’m pretty sure is the tree where we left her. It’s hard to tell. It’s rained since then, and the water is higher, and judging by the rumbles in the distance, it’s about to get even higher. I bought a pair of thick waders that make me look like I belong on a whaling ship, and I spend the weekends mucking through a fucking swamp, shooting snakes and being drained dry by mosquitos. There is no sign of anyone in the swamp but me. Fuck Harper. She doesn’t fucking matter. She doesn’t deserve this much attention. I should be at the bridge, where someone important died. I should be mourning Crystal, thinking of Crystal. Fuck this shit. I wade out of the swamp, tear off the waders, and hurl them in the back of the Range Rover, not caring if swamp sludge splatters on the back of my seat. I see the blanket there, the one I fucked Harper on so many times. The one I wrapped around her body to keep her warm all through winter. A picture of it hugging her curves rises to my mind, the way it slipped off her thick thighs, showing that fucking tattoo… I climb into the driver’s seat and slam the door, banging my head down on the top of the steering wheel. I’m fucking hard just thinking about her. What the fuck is wrong with me? I peel out, turn around at the next exit, and drive back toward home under the bruise-black sky. Harper doesn’t deserve a place in my memory. What she did goes so far past betrayal, a cut so deep it could never heal. She found a way, and broke the last pieces of my sanity. All along, I thought I was biding my time until I broke her. But she broke me first. I pull up behind a shitty little sedan in her driveway and glance up at the gathering storm clouds.

 Her neighbors are outside, the girl with dingy blue hair and the little kid, who’s prancing around in a hula hoop, wearing shorts and a bikini top that hangs oddly on her flat chest. The doors to their car stand open, and a song that I can only hope the kid doesn’t understand is spilling out from the crackly speakers. I imagine what my mother would say, and I smile at them as I circle my car to grab the box of Harper’s things I bought, as if this were a normal breakup. The blue-haired girl gives me a dirty look, an unlit cigarette drooping from the corner of her mouth. The little kid stops dancing, the hoop clattering to the cracked walkway at her feet. “She ain’t here,” she calls. “So you can go on back home!” The blue-haired girl cuts her eyes at her sister, but she doesn’t say anything. She watches me with sullen eyes and fishes a lighter from her pocket to light up. The low clouds have started spitting rain, and the air is thick and heavy with moisture. The little girl is standing on the roof of the car, dancing in the rain to another song no kid should be listening to. “Yeah, you go on and go home!” Her high voice cuts through the splattering rain. “You ain’t welcome here, on account of you broke Harper’s heart.” Ignoring her, I hurry to get into my Range Rover and climb inside, slamming the door to shut out the rain and the girl and the feeling of that house that clings to me like the skin-crawling sensation of dirt and grime and sweat after a football game. Trash, all of them. Just like Harper. I try to keep that thought in mind instead of feeling like the piece of shit I am, running from them like a guilty conscience. I take a few deep breaths, telling myself I’m imagining the stench of her life lingering around me. Then I shift into drive and take off, back toward the side of town where the rottenness makes sense to me. I don’t go home, though. I keep going, toward old man Darling’s house, the one where we went after I disowned Crystal but before she died.

I pull off at the bridge. This is where I belong. Honoring the memory of a girl who deserves my remorse. The first girl I killed, two and a half years ago. Grey drizzle splatters down on the windshield. It’s not the kind of rain that fell on the night the river took Crystal. It’s the kind that was falling the night Harper came to our house the first time, thinking she’d spy. She was good at finding my hiding spots, the places I go to remember, to prove they don’t hurt me. I have mastered this place the way I mastered Devlin’s balcony. His house is gone now, and Harper can’t haunt his balcony, but she haunts the river. I left her in the swamp, but her ghost is here. It’s in the rain on the windshield, the blanket in the trunk. It’s under the bridge, where we lay and talked and fucked. It’s on the far side of the bridge, where we fought the Darlings, and where I pushed her down and fucked her ass the first time. It’s in the back seat of this car, where I plowed into her and made her scream for me while her cunt choked my cock in its grip. I lean the seat back and slide my hand into my pants. My cock is stiff, my balls ready to dump their contents into her thirsty core. I pull out my phone and thumb it on. I think of what her mother said. I scroll down to her name and read our last OnlyWords messages. 

August: meet u at ur locker after work 

BadApple: c u then 

It’s so normal. So ordinary. I press the button and shut off my screen. I should delete the whole thread, erase any evidence I ever knew her. Instead, I opened the regular texting app that uses our phone numbers, the one we hardly used. It only takes a minute to scroll back all those months, to the first text she sent. It’s a picture of her in my leather jacket, the pic I asked for over Thanksgiving. My dick jerks in my hand, and I close my eyes and take a breath, as if I can coax the smell of her from these leather seats where she lay so many times. But no. That was a different car. She’s only been in this one once—her last night. When I open my eyes, though, she’s still there. She’s not showing a lot of skin. She never sent nudes. That only makes me want to see more, to peel open the jacket and see her tight little tits with the pale pink nipples poking out at me. She’s not wearing anything under it, but only an inch of skin shows between the buttons of the jacket. An inch of flat stomach, the little dip of her bellybutton like a tease. Below the jacket, she’s wearing tiny athletic shorts, knee socks. Her hair is messy around her shoulders, and she’s smiling into the camera, a sassy smirk that tugs at one corner of her lips. But it’s her eyes that seduced me then, her eyes that entice me now. I stroke myself, but it’s not enough. I need her, need to crush her little body under mine, to pin it and penetrate her and hear her gasping for mercy. I look at her picture, and I scroll through the others, tugging at my dick until my skin is rubbed raw, but I can’t find relief. My balls are so full they ache. I just need one little push, but I can’t close the deal. Finally, I throw my phone across the car and slam my head back against the seat. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I came here as a remembrance of Crystal, not to masturbate to pictures of a girl who used me in her little games, told her sick old man how big my dick was, how I performed, how I licked her cunt until she gushed all over my face, her soft cries a siren song to my ears. I turn on the car and wrench the wheel around, heading back through the colorless, waterlogged evening. Just when I thought I couldn’t sink any lower, I found a new way to surprise myself. Like a fucking serial killer, I just jerked off while looking at pictures of the girl I murdered.

[noloveforned]

welcome to 2024! no love for ned is still here and still on wlur every friday night from 8pm until midnight! i was hoping to have a new theme set to go this week but we're going to stick with our fall 'food songs' for another week.

our last show of the year was the annual look back twenty years ago for our best of 2003 show (now streaming on mixcloud). if you enjoyed the show, you can also check out the previous nine retrospective shows spotlighting 2002, 2001, 2000, 1999, 1998, 1997, 1996, 1995 and 1993 (1994 will be produced later this year as a special a 30th anniversary show).

no love for ned on wlur – december 29th, 2023 from 8pm-midnight

artist // track // album // label the aislers set // languor in the balcony // how i learned to write backwards // slumberland shout out louds // the comeback // howl howl gaff gaff // bud fox matt suggs // calm down // amigo row // merge belle and sebastian // i'm a cuckoo // dear catastrophe waitress // rough trade the rosebuds // kicks in the schoolyard // make out // merge the lucksmiths // midweek midmorning // naturaliste // drive-in sprites // do it yourself // starling, spiders, tiger and sprites // march camera obscura // suspended from class // underachievers please try harder // elefant st. thomas // a long long time // hey harmony // racing junior bishop allen // little black ache // charm school // champagne school herman düne // why would that hurt? (if you never loved me) // mash concrete metal mushroom // shrimper bearsuit // itsuko got married // itsuko got married 7" // bearslut dressy bessy // baby six string // dressy bessy // kindercore the new pornographers // testament to youth in verse // electric version // matador all girl summer fun band // dear mr. and mrs. troublemaker // 2 // k david and the citizens // graycoated morning // until the sadness is gone // adrian saturday looks good to me // alcohol // all your summer songs // polyvinyl the essex green // the late great cassiopia // the long goodbye // merge beulah // landslide baby // yoko // velocette reclinerland // give up your film career (lenny's theme) // the ideal home music library // hush blanket music // hyper-ballad // read: interpreting bjork tribute // hush tobin sprout // doctor #8 // lost planets and phantom voices // mr. whiggs plastic mastery // i fell in love on the way to a funeral // sverige ep // 555 the thermals // no culture icons // more parts per million // sub pop rainer maria // mystery and misery // long knives drawn // polyvinyl joel plaskett emergency // extraordinary // truthfully truthfully // maple music sloan // false alarm // action pact // vik guided by voices // useless inventions // earthquake glue // matador deerhoof // dummy discards a heart // apple o' // kill rock stars lil' hospital // there could be girlfriend // i wanna be well // best friends the national splits // she's my baby and she's alright // fontana // mr. whiggs murder beach // eight great ways // first string teenage high- songs of tullycraft played by people who aren't tribute // bumblebear casiotone for the painfully alone // jeane, if you're ever in portland // twinkle echo // tomlab bobby birdman // i will come again // heart caves ep // states rights

erykah badu // back in the day // worldwide underground // motown the books // take time // the lemon of pink // tomlab nanang tatang // bunny hop hop // muki // tiger style so // a // so // thrill jockey piana // hide and seek // snow bird // happy broken social scene // anthems for a seventeen-year-old girl // you forgot it in people // arts and crafts califone // michigan girls // quicksand/cradlesnakes // thrill jockey the strugglers // the new room // the new room // tract magnolia electric co. // just be simple // the magnolia electric co. // secretly canadian crooked fingers // big darkness // red devil dawn // merge the trouble with sweeney // the break up // i know you destroy // burnt toast vinyl barzin // past all concerns // barzin // where are my azure ray // hold on love // hold on love // saddle creek seekonk // move // for barbara lee // kimchee sun kill moon // carry me ohio // ghosts of the great highway // jetset the american analog set // come home baby julie, come home // promise of love // tiger style the twilight singers // teenage wristband // blackberry belle // birdman spiritualized // she kissed me (it felt like a hit) // amazing grace // sanctuary the postal service // the district sleeps alone tonight // give up // sub pop her space holiday // my girlfriend's boyfriend // the young machines // mush styrofoam // a heart without a mind // i'm what's there to show that something's missing // morr music howard hello // my friend / the parasite // don't drink his blood // temporary residence pernice brothers // one foot in the grave // yours, mine and ours // ashmont the salteens // damn you // let go of your bad days // drive-in the unicorns // i was born (a unicorn) // who will cut our hair when we're gone? // alien8 the hidden cameras // ban marriage // the smell of our own // rough trade yo la tengo // today is the day // today is the day ep // matador

[tinyreviews]

Rabbit Hole: Fiber and Health

The difference between soluble and insoluble fiber

Soluble and insoluble fibers are both essential components of a healthy diet, particularly for gut health, but they differ in their properties and how they function in the digestive system.

Soluble Fiber:

Dissolves in water to form a gel-like substance.

Fermentable by gut bacteria.

Benefits for Gut Health:

Feeds Gut Bacteria: Acts as a prebiotic, promoting the growth of beneficial bacteria in the gut.

Regulates Blood Sugar: Slows down digestion, leading to a more gradual release of glucose into the bloodstream.

Lowers Cholesterol: Binds with bile acids, helping to lower blood cholesterol levels.

Improves Digestion: Softens stool, making it easier to pass and helping to prevent constipation.

Insoluble Fiber:

Does not dissolve in water.

Adds bulk to stool.

Benefits for Gut Health:

Promotes Regularity: Adds bulk to stool and helps it pass more quickly through the intestines, reducing the risk of constipation.

Prevents Diverticulitis: Helps prevent small pouches from forming in the colon, which can become inflamed or infected.

Supports Weight Management: Adds bulk to the diet without adding calories, which can help with feeling full and reducing overall food intake.

What are good common sources of fiber?

Soluble Fiber: Oats, barley, nuts, seeds (e.g., chia seeds, flaxseeds), beans and legumes (e.g., lentils, chickpeas), fruits (e.g., apples, oranges, pears), vegetables (e.g., carrots, Brussels sprouts).

Insoluble Fiber: Whole grains (e.g., whole wheat, brown rice, bulgur), nuts and seeds (e.g., almonds, sunflower seeds), vegetables (e.g., cauliflower, green beans, potatoes with skin), fruits (e.g., apples with skin, berries, bananas), bran (e.g., wheat bran, corn bran).

Do gut bacteria break down fiber to produce beneficial compounds like vitamins? What other beneficial compounds do they produce?

Vitamins

Vitamin K: Certain gut bacteria synthesize vitamin K, which is essential for blood clotting and bone health.

B Vitamins: Some gut bacteria produce B vitamins, such as biotin (B7), folate (B9), and riboflavin (B2), which are crucial for energy metabolism and overall cellular function.

Short-Chain Fatty Acids (SCFAs)

Acetate, Propionate, and Butyrate: These SCFAs are produced when gut bacteria ferment soluble fiber. They have numerous health benefits:

Butyrate: Acts as a primary energy source for colon cells, helps maintain the integrity of the gut barrier, and has anti-inflammatory properties.

Propionate: Metabolized in the liver and can help regulate glucose production.

Acetate: Used in various metabolic processes and can influence fat storage and appetite regulation.

Other Beneficial Compounds

Gases: Such as hydrogen, methane, and carbon dioxide, which are normal byproducts of fermentation and usually harmless.

Phenolic Compounds: Fermentation of polyphenols (a type of antioxidant found in fruits and vegetables) by gut bacteria can produce bioactive phenolic compounds with anti-inflammatory and antioxidant properties.

Conjugated Linoleic Acids (CLAs): Produced from the fermentation of certain fats, CLAs have been shown to have anti-carcinogenic and anti-inflammatory effects.

Health Benefits

Improved Gut Health: SCFAs, particularly butyrate, nourish the cells lining the colon, reducing the risk of gastrointestinal disorders.

Enhanced Immune Function: A healthy gut microbiome can help modulate immune responses, reducing inflammation and protecting against infections.

Metabolic Health: The production of SCFAs can influence metabolic health, helping regulate blood sugar levels and reducing the risk of obesity and type 2 diabetes.

Mental Health: There is emerging evidence that SCFAs and other metabolites produced by gut bacteria can influence brain function and mood, potentially impacting conditions like anxiety and depression.

Specific benefits of SCFAs

Digestive Health

Nourishment of Colonocytes: Butyrate serves as the primary energy source for colonocytes (cells lining the colon), promoting a healthy gut lining and reducing the risk of gastrointestinal disorders.

Gut Barrier Function: SCFAs enhance the integrity of the gut barrier, preventing the leakage of harmful substances from the gut into the bloodstream, which can lead to systemic inflammation.

Anti-inflammatory Effects: Butyrate has potent anti-inflammatory properties, helping to reduce inflammation in the gut, which is beneficial for conditions like inflammatory bowel disease (IBD).

Metabolic Health

Blood Sugar Regulation: Propionate can help regulate blood glucose levels by influencing gluconeogenesis (the production of glucose) in the liver.

Lipid Metabolism: Acetate and propionate are involved in lipid metabolism, which can influence cholesterol levels and reduce the risk of cardiovascular diseases.

Appetite Regulation: SCFAs can influence the release of hormones that regulate appetite and satiety, such as peptide YY (PYY) and glucagon-like peptide-1 (GLP-1), potentially aiding in weight management.

Immune Function

Immune Modulation: SCFAs play a role in modulating the immune system by influencing the activity of various immune cells, including T cells and macrophages, which helps maintain immune balance and reduce chronic inflammation.

Anti-carcinogenic Properties: Butyrate has been shown to induce apoptosis (programmed cell death) in cancerous cells in the colon, reducing the risk of colorectal cancer.

Brain Health and Mental Well-being

Neurotransmitter Production: SCFAs can influence the production of neurotransmitters like serotonin, which is involved in mood regulation.

Blood-brain Barrier Integrity: Butyrate can enhance the integrity of the blood-brain barrier, protecting the brain from harmful substances.

Anti-inflammatory Effects on the Brain: By reducing systemic inflammation, SCFAs can help protect against neuroinflammatory conditions, potentially lowering the risk of neurodegenerative diseases.

General Health Benefits

Reduction of Systemic Inflammation: SCFAs help reduce systemic inflammation, which is linked to numerous chronic diseases, including diabetes, cardiovascular diseases, and obesity.

Bone Health: Propionate may have a role in calcium absorption and bone health, although more research is needed in this area.

The above is the result of my curiosity going down the rabbithole with ChatGPT. I post my rabbithole curiosities to this blog.