#anyway why in the world would you do that to a cucumber. cucumbers are so fucking good

[incorrect-hs-quotes]

DAVE: just found out pickles are cucumbers i cant fucking breathe

JOHN: this is how i felt when i figured out raisins.

DAVE: ...............what about raisins

[brayneworms]

prompt: l lawliet + food play + pink

wc. 2.8k. gn!reader, foodplay, virgin!l, handjobs, sliiiight come eating, reader is a wet cat in a cardboard box kinda, safe sane and consensual, no real power dynamics.

L contextualises things in the way he sees the world.

Strings of numbers, statistics, behavioural patterns that he's memorised to a 'T' until he can tell guilt from the aversion of an eye or fury from the remnants of nails pressed into the palm of someone's hand. It's why maybe something like sex or desire is a struggle for him. It's not that he doesn't understand it, it's more like he doesn't see the—the need for it, or whatever. You chalk it up to him being extremely busy and also probably totally asexual and don't think about it.

(Don't think about it much.)

It sort of surprises you that it's you he corners with his questions about. Maybe he's more embarrassed than he lets on—as it is, he looks cool as a cucumber save for the faintest shade of pink across his cheekbones. There's no way he would escape a conversation about it from anyone on the squad without a degree of ragging. Misa would squeal like a pig if L dared to broach the topic with her, you're sure. Matsuda would blush bright red and trip over all his words, and Aizawa would probably stare at him like he'd set his firstborn on fire.

And Light is Light. He probably knows little more than L, for all the airs he puts on.

So it's you he comes to. When it first starts, you think it has something to do with a case or lead he's hunting. Tell me, have you had sex before?

Perched like a frog, licking whipped cream off his finger. You don't know if he's doing to be provocative or not; don't know which is worse, that he's aware of what he's doing or not.

"This isn't exactly proper workplace conversation L."

A flicker of a smile. Cheeky, omniscient. "Feel free to report me to HR, in that case."

You do answer—honestly and concisely, if not with a shade of awkwardness. He's essentially your boss. But L seems so far removed from the worlds of sexuality and desire that it seems harmless, occupational, and eventually it stops feeling embarrassing. Out of nowhere—what is the purpose of restrains in an intimate context? Why do you think some people like to feel as though they have no control in the bedroom? Would you say that visual pornography has given watchers unrealistic expectations of actual intercourse?

One night, the two of you alone in front of a big glowing screen, turning to him and asking. "Why do you ask me this stuff, anyway? Is it for a case?"

"No," he says neutrally. A quick glance from his dark eyes you could almost describe as coy. "I'm just... curious."

"Curious," you echo, deadpan. "You?"

"Does that surprise you?" he murmurs. You almost feel that your honest answer—yes—would be insulting now, so instead you just shrug and mumble something incoherent under your breath. "You're not completely wrong. I thought having a better understanding of things like sex and power dynamics would be beneficial in the long run. Most people have a greater knowledge of it than me, which—puts me at a disadvantage." He says these last words with an air of revulsion, as though the very concept of knowing less than someone sours in his mouth, and you chuckle at his childishness.

"That makes sense." You pause. Wonder if you're reading this all wrong, then barrel ahead anyway. "Wouldn't actually experiencing it for yourself lend a better understanding than anything else, though?"

L's eyebrow raises. His smile has vanished, leaving him bug-eyed and unreadable. "What are you suggesting?"

He's not stupid, and you're not subtle. He knows exactly what you were suggesting. The fact that he's trying to get you to go into more detail rather than firing you on the spot is probably a good sign, and further than you expected to get. You squirm in your seat.

"You know. It's like being told about how something feels rather than knowing," you say awkwardly. "I'm just—can I ask—"

"It only seems fair," L says slowly. "After I've been badgering you with my own questions for so long." His chair spins; he rests his wrists on his rucked-up knees, fingers steepled in front of him. "Please."

Hot-faced, you spin your chair aimlessly. "Okay, well, uh—have you? I mean, before?"

L hesitates before he shakes his head, an almost imperceptible twitch that has his dark hair floating. You swallow the sudden large dry lump in your throat.

"Okay. So. Probably somewhere to start," you mumble.

L seems to consider this. "Would you be willing?"

You don't have the right to be surprised, with all the dancing around the subject, but you are, still. You choke on your spit and fly around to look at him, which is a mistake. His gaze is so dark and intense, and you think he can see right through you before you even open your mouth to answer.

"I'm not—" you stammer, with no idea what you're going to say. "I mean—"

"I had assumed you would be," L goes on calmly, but you catch the slight flicker of his eyes, a ghost of uncertainty that makes your chest squeeze. "If I have read your responses incorrectly, though, feel free to forget I asked. I can guarantee no awkwardness tomorrow."

"It's not that," you blurt. L blinks at you, go on. "It's just... do you have any idea what you're, you know. Into? Where to start?"

L's eyes flicker, the barest furrow knitted between his brows. You can tell he hasn't thought too hard about it. "What would you suggest?" he asks, curling his long fingers over his knees.

You swallow. "Well... anything you like the idea of, I guess. Something familiar, to ease you into it."

L's eyes roll over to his desk, where a perfectly glistening slice of strawberry cake waits for him. Pink sponge and halved red berries, topped with pale pink cream. "Familiar," he echoes. "I may have a suggestion."

-

So you feed L a strawberry just to get started.

Hold it up. It's distinctly awkward; L just stares at it for a moment, the berry dusted with frosting that glistens between your fingers. You tell him, "If you're not comfortable with this, sex is probably going to be—"

He leans forward and plucks the fruit from between your fingers; you feel the barest ghosting of teeth, the sweep of his tongue sharp and curious against the pads of your fingers before he leans back again. You watch the motions of his jaw and throat as he chews and swallows. Pins you with his headlamp stare, wide and dark.

You deconstruct the strawberry cake carefully, removing the berries and setting them to the side. Cast a look over at him. "Take off your shirt?"

L twists the hem of this shirt for a few moments before removing it. It feels so strange to see him devoid of clothing, like a knight removing their armour. Pale ribs, pinched waist. He's not whipcord-thin like you had imagined—there's lean muscle packed under the skin, his stomach flat and somewhat soft. It flexes almost nervously when you look at it. He reclines back on his bed without being told, bracing his weight onto his elbows, legs dangling off the side.

"You sure about all this?" you ask, glancing from the smooth planes of his white skin—shit—to the plate of crumbling pink dessert. "Didn't think you'd be into, you know. All the mess."

"I have a shower," L says reflexively.

You take that as permission to approach with the plate. You place the strawberry halves in a red dotted line, starting at his clavicle, watching him shiver and flex at the cold touch. Down—one at the bottom of his ribs, one above his bellybutton, one at his naval just above the low sling of his jeans. He's started to flush, prettily pink down his chest. It makes you slightly dizzy.

"Okay. So. Okay." You try not to feel so nervous, but it's more like you feel out of place, or time, or space. It feels surreal, basically. Standing between L's legs with your fingers stained pink from fruit and frosting. Him looking up at you like that, all big dark round eyes and slightly parted lips. Damn it. You take a deep, steadying breath. "Okay, so, I'll start now if you're okay. And just say if you don't want—if you want to stop, or if you don't like anything, just say, okay?"

"I understand the basic premises of consent, if that's what you're trying to affirm." The words are all L, but there's an element of breathlessness to them.

"Just making sure we're clear," you mutter. You lean forward and smooth a palm over his collarbones. They're sharp, they jut up to meet your hand like cut diamond, and you hear and see his breath hitch, which is slightly intoxicating. His skin is warmer and softer than you thought it would be. You run your hands over his shoulders and neck, which he squirms away from with a wrinkled nose.

"No neck?" you ask.

He shakes his head. So no neck.

Once you're done exploring this part of his body, you lean forward, close your lips around the strawberry and bite the end of it, sinking your teeth into the flesh. Pink juice runs down your chin; L's eyes follow it, transfixed, as you tilt your head forward and push your mouthful against his lips. They part unquestioningly, and you push the strawberry into his mouth with your tongue. Your lips brush together, tantalising and sweet with sugar. A mimic of a kiss, a palimpsest of intimacy. You don't want to overwhelm him, anyway.

This goes on; your hands over his chest next, the soft pectorals. An experimental brush of your thumb over his left nipple that makes his whole body shudder. He's so sensitive, reacting to every prod and touch and tweak with a jerk and a shiver. Gooseflesh blooms up his skin, pebbling his nipples, and when you tweak the other one gently he lets out a choked sound.

Finding the strawberry nestled under his ribs. Taking it between your teeth and passing it to him. His face gets pinker with each one. Stomach, concave, flexing with every hard breath. A ticklish spot over his belly button. Strawberry, bite, pass. The flex of his jaw as he chews.

Fingers over his waist, indenting the skin as much as you dare. You try not to think of how easily he would bruise. Brushing your touch over his lower abdomen makes his breath catch again. You find the strawberry, hold it between your lips. L cranes his neck, searching this time—he thinks he knows the game, has memorised the steps, found the pattern, the sequence. He doesn't know that the best sex is the unpredictable kind. This time, you press your lips against him and when your tongue pushes the strawberry into his mouth it stays there. His lips part, slack against yours, either in shock or inexperience. You allow yourself the briefest twirl of your tongue against his before pulling back with a wet pop.

L stares at you as you retreat. The strawberries leave pale pink residue on his skin. Pulling back fully reveals the hardness between his legs, pushing up against the dark denim of his jeans. He grunts when your eyes land on it, either out of embarrassment or frustration. You swallow and its like sandpaper.

"Still want me to...?"

"I have not changed my mind," he replies, slightly hoarsely and a beat slower than usual. You shrug, smooth your hands over the tent at his crotch, and he whines. It's the most searing noise you've pulled from him yet, and all from some halfhearted palming over the jeans. It sends a thrill zipping through you, hot and addicting. His arms shake with the weight of holding himself up, neck craning to follow as you sink to your knees between his legs.

You unzip him, pop the button, and he groans slightly at the freedom from the constraints of his clothes. He's fully hard, straining against his dark underwear. You experiment, rubbing at the tip, feeling for the wet spot, and he keens and thrashes, losing his stability and crashing to the mattress. He makes a frustrated noise just after, as though cursing himself for his own lack of control.

"That—" he swallows hard, breathes shakily. "That feels..."

Your hand hovers. "Am I stopping?"

"No, I don't..." He scrambles. L scrambles over his words. "Please, continue."

You stroke him over his underwear for a few concentrated minutes, mostly enjoying the way he twitches and huffs and occasionally makes soft, whiny noises, the way he starts to rut his hips against your hand. No technique, no rhythm, just some sort of baseless desire that you find incredibly hot. There's almost a frustration to it that makes you want to laugh—of course there would be nothing more agonising to someone like L than seeing what he wanted so close to him but being unable to accomplish it himself.

When he starts gritting his teeth, you pull his boxers down to his thighs and he makes a choking, embarrassed sound. When you wrap your fingers around his cock for the first time, finding it velvety-soft and leaking, his eyes roll back and his hips arch into the loose wet tunnel of your hand. "Oh," is all he says. Small and soft like he's surprised. His neck twists and his mouth presses into the starched white sheets. "Oh," he says again as your fist moves slowly, stroking with intent, up and down. He's not overly big, fits nicely in your hand, makes swiping over the head where the pre beads with your thumb nice and convenient. And you love the way he shudders and thrashes when you do it.

"How does that feel?" Your voice is lower than you remember it being. L cracks a bleary eye open; his face is flushed bright pink now, a flush that bleeds all the way down his chest, blending in with the strawberry stains.

"It feels," he starts, before his brow pinches. "I—I am not sure how to—how to describe..."

"It's okay," you tell him. His thighs shake, flexing against the edge of the mattress. When he tips his head back the cords in his pretty throat bulge, so biteable. "You can come whenever."

"I wasn't—oh," he gasps, squirming. "I wasn't aware I n-needed your—permission, oh."

"Yeah, well," you say intelligently, a little struck dumb by the sight before you. "Just making sure we're on the same page."

"A-and what page is that?" he pants, thrusting his hips messily into your hand. He's so fucking sensitive that you swear you can see his eyes growing shiny.

"The one where I help you out, so don't be a brat," you murmur. L laughs breathlessly, trying, you think, to summon some retort. You twist your fist around him and it died, half-formed in his brain, his eyes rolling back and fingers flexing hard in the sheets.

After another minute, he reaches out and grabs your wrist hard enough to bruise. He doesn't say it—can't, maybe. But you know. Your pace speeds up just a touch and he honest to god moans, spilling out of him soft and breathy before he comes, streaking over his stomach in pearly arcs. You watch him flinch at the contact, fingers slipping on your wrist. His chest flexes—in, out, in, out.

You collect a big scoop of pink frosting on your finger and dip it in the come starting to cool between his pecs before pressing it to his lips. L's brow wrinkles, startled—but he opens his lips and lets your fingers pass into the hot cavern of his mouth. Like a cat he licks your finger clean, pointed pink tongue prodding with no technique or flourish, just something steadfast, something stubborn.

You do him the dignity of tucking his softened cock back into his underwear and zipping up his jeans. Unsure how to proceed until L sits up rather abruptly. His hair is even more tousled from his tossing and turning as he reaches for a tissue to wipe himself down.

He looks at you. "I understand it's customary to offer some sort of equivalent exchange in these circumstances." A pause whilst he gathers his breath. "You'll have to forgive me. I'm not quite feeling up to the task."

His tone is normal, if a little shaky. You rock back on your heels. "Did you like it?"

L blinks at you. "My curiosity has been sated," he says, carefully. "Yes, I believe I did enjoy it."

Well, that's a relief if nothing else. The pink remnants of the strawberry cake it on the plate; the shade matches his blush.

[patheticpeoplesupreme]

TW// Panic Attack// Derealisation /Derealization //

Multiple names used interchangeably// ambiguous ending

read the side notes at the end!//

Sometimes, this world feels fake. Sometimes, he doesn’t feel like he lives in it.

When he was Houhua, he tries wave the fog away and picks up his brush and does his duties. He makes way too many mistakes in those days but no one pays any mind to him. No one pays any mind to his bruises anyway.

No one would care to find out. Why would they?

He was just a pathetic, puny little mouse, scurrying to survive. Canon fodder destined to die and return to the earth below for his sins.

This was his world. His story brought to life.

When the sun glimmers through his window, he wonders if the glow is artificial, like the failing bulbs he used to change when he was falling behind in his rent.

He opens his eyes, trying to blink away the fog, trying to bring back clarity , but to no avail, time slips by again. It’s warmer now, so he forces his limbs to move.

Stumbling into the bathroom, he takes a deep breath and reaches out for a hair tie before locking eyes with himself in the mirror.

Distantly he thinks, ‘this isn’t who I am.’

The colour of his hair was as bright as a chestnut, different from what it should be, shorter dark curls floating in the wind instead of being in a bun. His eyes glaze over— his bright amber compared to the hazelnut shade— scanning himself in the mirror.

His height—the body’s height was shorter by a few inches. He tries to breathe. It only serves to tighten the space in his chest. Finally, with his clumsy fingers, he wrangles his messy, unbrushed hair into a low bun, having no energy to do his usual high bun.

He wished he could cut it.

His hand lifts up to touch the body’s face . Shang Qinghua’s face. Shang… Houhua…?

He tries to think about true name.

He remembers projecting himself into his story, the story that he loved so much, even if it devolved into horrible cliché plots that never went anywhere. Even if the stories were left buried under, he still loved this world.

洛梅花

Luò Méihuā

A plum blossom. Blooming in the midst of winter.

Haa…

He feels like he’s wilting. He steps outside of his room, dizzily fumbling with his accessories, the buttons, the sashes messily wrapped around him

He thinks he smells smoke, a Pringly feeling rubbing against his fingers. He remembers the day he dies, the currents and volts electrocuting him. The sound of thunder never used to scare him.

Now he trembles at the sight of a storm. The percentage of getting hit by lighting is low, but it still terrifies him. To die. To feel that excruciating pain, to feel that excruciating loneliness at the same time, it was unbearable.

~~

Feiji blinks, suddenly standing right infront of his office door, a disciple of his holding the side of his shoulder. He remembers watching her stumble around as a young student, her name being on the tip of his tongue. He didn’t write her, he knew this, yet he couldn’t stop the wave of unease.

“Shizun?” She frowned in concern. He tries to smile and pat her head. Her frown doesn’t disappear, but she does scatter out the front gate.

Feiji wonders if Gua-xiong (Cucumber bro) feels like this sometimes. Like the world is floating away against his will.

“Shang-shidi?” He blinks again. A different person steadying the body— he didn’t even know the body was swaying.

Hm… Yue Qingyuan should be pretty and likeable… but no one likes a one-dimensional character. Though, they really don’t care as long as the protag gets their wives huh… hm…

Maybe I can scrap the Xiao Jiu storyline? The sect leader is gonna die anyway… it’ll be super bittersweet.



Yue Qingyuan’s brow was furrowed as he stared at the body. Shang—Hua flinched, remembering the descriptions that he’d thought of to make the pair suffer even more.

“All you do is apologise, and for what!? You left me behind!” Meihua laughed slightly as he wrote Xiao Jiu’s lines, thinking to himself, this will surely satisfy the readers angsty desires!

Meihua grinned with the artist he had commissioned to make official art of the peak lords, “this is exactly what i think they look like in my head, thanks!”

Shang Qinghua opens his mouth—

and chokes on a sob, “S—“

he gasps as his knees buckle beneath him, “Sorry.”

Fortunately, Yue Qingyuan jumps in quickly and reaches out to steady him, lowering him slowly instead of plunging to the ground. “Shang-shidi? What’s wrong? Your disciple ran into me and told me that you were acting weird—“

His eyes go wide though he’s not quite sure why and his hearing suddenly shuts down, muffling everything the worried man is saying.

Feiji is sorry, Yue Qingyuan— he’s sorry—he’s so incredibly sorry—!

—

“Are you sure there’s nothing that could’ve possibly sent him into such a severe qi deviation?” Mu Qifang questioned once more, desperate to get any answers on how to help his patient.

Yue Qingyuan shakes his head, grimacing, “No, the disciple I saw told me that he’s been that quiet since the start of the day.”

He paused thinking for a little longer before sighing, “She did not mention if Lord Mobei had visited either… there was nothing that could have triggered it. And nothing is calming him down.”

Mu Qingfang gazed over to the sobbing man boy, “I wish I knew how to help him.”

“Perhaps we should ask Shen-shidi for assistance. He…”

Yue Qingyuan’s expression closed as he thinks about it, “The two of them has been quite close in the recent years.” He reminds himself to calm down.

Shang Qinghua to him, is like having a younger brother, he could feel totally at ease with the oddly anxious peak lord. Despite that, it’s hard to let go of one’s protective instincts. One day, he hopes his instincts will protect the younger as well.

—

“Hey,” a familiar voice called out from the darkness, “Bro?”

Feiji opens his eyes—he didn’t even know he had closed them— and sees the Scum Villain he had created. His breath hitched, thoughts running at a million miles per hour.

The—The backstory that he had scrapped in order to chase the trends and feed into popular tropes—

“Sh—Shen—“ Feiji stuttered out. Shen Qingqiu softened (!???) his expression, before holding his hand out.

“Hey, it’s okay, it’s just me, Shang-shidi. Mu-shixiong told me that you have—“

shangshidishangshidishangshidi

In a burst of weird emotions, He swats his hand away from him, his voice almost going to a shrieking level, shocking everyone in the room.

“STOP—! That’s not my name—! Please! Shen—Shen—Shidi.”

The two names were fluttering in his mind.

Yuan. Jiu.

He didn’t know what to do anymore. He didn’t understand what was happening anymore.

“Yu—Yuan—xiong please—! That’s— that’s not my name!” He pleaded, “N—Not Shang Qinghua, not Houhua! That’s not me!”

He remembers vaguely the destiny of the body he’s residing in. “He’s not me—“

The two peak lords behind him blink in shock and panic, both frozen, not knowing what to do or say. ‘Yuan…?’

“Okay, I’m sorry, I know you’re not, you’re not him,” Shen Qingqiu nodded comfortingly, “It’s okay, Feiji—ge Gua—xiong is here.”

Feiji shudders at the nickname, one that would usually make him feel safe when it’s Shen Yuan uttering it, yet— all the name does is remind him that he had written all of these characters, all of their suffering, caused by him.

He shakes his head desperately.

Luckily, the man understands. “Alright, this master won’t call you by that name, it’s okay. Can you tell me what you want me to call you?”

It takes a very long time for his mind to catch on, for his mind to send signals on how to respond, he shivers, bowing his head, he grasps at the strings, pulling the cord that would finally make his voice work.

“Meihua— L—Luo Meihua! That’s—“ He sobbed, cutting himself off and desperately clinging to the one person he knew was real. “This one—Gua—Xiong.”

Despite not being good with physical touch, Shen Qingqiu allows the mousy man to grab on as a crutch, he nods along to his mumbles, gesturing Mu Qingfang to help put the panicked and stressed man to rest. “Okay, thank you for telling me Meihua, This one won’t leave you.”

—

“Please. We will explain it all, but please just trust us.” Shen Yuan whispers as the author in his arms falls quiet with his breathing at ease.

—

Blue =Airplane(Feiji)/Meihua(my Airplane’s original name) / & Shen Yuan / Gua-Xiong (cucumber bro)

Green=Shang Qinghua /Shang Houhua( Sqh’s original name?)’s body and original self (or what he perceives to be the original)

also, green refers to SVSSS characters in general and differentiates from real people

It’s honestly super cool I can do this on tumblr

Also side note:

PIDW to Shen yuan feels like Miraculous Ladybug to a lot of fans

it’s so funny

In general, a lot of mlb fans absolutely hate the way Chat and Ladybug is written and I just can’t help but think of Shen Yuan. But at least here, Airplane is likeable haha

[upon-a-starry-night]

Number Neighbors Pt.8

Natasha Romanoff x Fem! reader

Natasha Masterlist Series Masterlist

Word Count: 1.6k

Summary:  When you catch sight of the newest trend going around you know you’re all but bound to at least try it, it was harmless anyway. What could possibly stem from something so little?

~~~~

After four months of texting, you’d decided Nat was officially your new best friend of all time. You wondered if she’d ever be open to the option of meeting up but considering her initial hesitancy to even text you in the first place you figured that option was faaar off of the table…at least for now anyway.

You’d grown used to texting her at least once a day, and spamming her on days she’d go silent.

 You didn’t know what she did for work but you understood a lot of jobs didn’t allow you to be on your phones, although she sometimes wouldn’t even respond during the night and it made you wonder if she worked some kind of occasional night job. It only helped solidify your theory that Nat was an FBI agent- or maybe a super spy. 

It would give you exponential bragging rights if you got to say your best friend was a super spy- although she’d probably have to assassinate you for spilling her secret and that would not bode well for you considering you had plans to travel the world before you died. 

Still- you had to admit the two of you were getting closer, and your conversations had become a wide range of you spilling your nonsensical thoughts and Nat growing increasingly more concerned for your mental health. 

       Nat🔪:

Y/n🍦:

Do you think because humans are full of water the same as cucumbers that we also have the potential to become pickled?

Nat🔪:

Your brain terrifies me

Y/n🍦:

When I die I don’t want to be cremated

I want to be pickled

Nat🔪:

Wow.

That’s…concerning

How have you survived this long?

You’d screenshotted the conversation and posted it on your story, to which your mother replied with apid curiosity about who you’d been texting. After explaining to your mother about your new budding friendship (leaving out the part where Nat was a complete and total stranger -your mother would freak) she expressed how excited she was for you to finally be reaching out and finding new friends. 

She also expressed her relief that there was someone else in the world willing to put up with your otherworldly intrusive thoughts. So Nat was now mother-approved, you outwardly fist pumped the air in the middle of your kitchen, 'best friend status' has been upgraded

—----

        Nat🔪:

Y/n🍦: 

Natalee

I have a theory

Nat🔪:

If it’s about my name I’m

just going to debunk it right now

Y/n🍦: 

What if the shit-tauri from the

Battle of shitstorm didn’t die

and they actually turned into the freakishly large

rats that live on the NYC subways?

Nat🔪:

Solid theory.

Any proof?

Y/n🍦:

Oh, lots.

But ya gotta earn it

Nat🔪:

…how so?

Y/n🍦: 

Truth or dare…

Nat🔪:

No.

Y/n🍦:

To THE DEATH

Nat🔪:

I’m in.

Y/n🍦:

I’m just joking.

I knew you would enjoy that part

My cynical little raincloud friend

Nat🔪:

Oh I'm yours now am I?

Y/n🍦:

The thing is- I am also almost

Certain you are a result of my delusional &

Lonely mind- thus you are My delusional imaginary friend

Since no one else can experience MY delusions :)

Nat🔪:

I’m very real Y/n.

Y/n🍦:

I believe you delusional Nat

Nat🔪:

That implies you are calling ME delusion.

Y/n🍦: 

maybe you are

Maybe I’M not even real!

Nat🔪:

How much have you had to drink?

Y/n🍦:

Nothing, why?

Nat🔪:

….

Seek professional help

Y/n🍦:

You should meet my therapist I think

you’d share the same sentiments.

Nat🔪:

Your therapist wants you

to seek professional help?

Y/n🍦:

My therapist needs a therapist because of me.

Anyways- do you want to earn the rat 

theory proof or are you too soft for it

Nat🔪:

I don’t think anyone has ever called me

“Soft” before

Y/n🍦:

Pfft

Okay “The Rock”

Truth or dare?

Nat🔪:

…

dare

You took a second to think of a dare, getting up from the couch to make yourself a cup of your favorite tea. As you stirred the honey into the steaming liquid you thought of what you could suggest given you knew nothing about her environment. Finally, an idea came into your head and you snickered as you quickly typed out the message. 

Y/n🍦:

I dare you to wear colors

Her response was immediate, a reaction you’d begun to get used to when texting Nat, it was a far cry from the hesitant hour-apart replies she used to give you. 

Nat🔪:

What is with you and judging my 

Choice of attire?

Y/n🍦:

The human eye can see 10 million colors

And you choose to wear black every day.

It’s absolutely outrageous.

I will not stand for it.

Nat🔪:

Jokes on you.

*image attached*

Much to your surprise the image Nat sent consisted of her viewpoint- the camera angled downwards- to show off the dark red t-shirt that Nat was pulling out to display to you to prove that she was in fact wearing color today.

The rest of the image only consisted of her black jeans, black sneakers, and a very boring glossy black flooring- unfortunately for you, it wasn’t shiny enough to give off any reflection of your online friend's face. 

However, this was the first time Nat had sent you a photo of herself- and you felt honored that she’d grown comfortable enough to show you a glimpse of her skin along with her outfit.

You beamed at the photo even after staring at it for 5 minutes- the fact that she was sharing this part of herself and also wearing color did things to your stomach. 

And maybe you made a little mental note in your head that she was wearing the color you said suited her best but you weren’t going to dive into that right now. 

You got up and did a little pace around your small living room, biting your thumbnail and wondering if you should comment on it before deciding you’d be more likely to get more photos the less you pointed them out.

Eventually, you sat back down on your couch, tucked your feet under you, and tried to formulate a response that didn't show how much you were internally freaking out. 

Y/n🍦:

God is real.

Nat🔪:

Ha ha.

Y/n🍦:

Wow It’s not even my birthday 

But this is a gift.

Truly.

Nat🔪:

You’re overdoing it.

Y/n🍦:

I’m actually crying.

Nat🔪:

Finally some good news.

Y/n🍦:

Hey!

Fuck you darth vader

Nat🔪:

these attempts at guessing

My name are getting worse

Y/n🍦:

I’m beginning to think

You frustrate me

on purpose sometimes

Nat🔪:

Everything I do is on purpose.

Y/n🍦:

I wasn’t.

You blushed at the accidental insinuation that Nat had ‘done’ you and quickly changed the subject.

Y/n🍦:

Your turn smartass

Nat🔪: 

Truth or dare Y/n?

After a few rounds of the two of you going back and forth daring each other to do ridiculous shit that may or may not have led to you chugging two full gulps of hot sauce (before and after evidence was provided) and you daring Nat to flirt with a random person in her contacts (Sorry to whoever ‘very old ice cube’ was in her phone, they seemed very flustered from the screenshots you received, another thing you were excited about but didn’t comment on). After all those dares you finally received the first truth proposition of the evening

Y/n🍦:

Truth or dare?

Nat🔪:

I think I’ve had enough of your

Unhinged dares.

Truth.

Y/n🍦:

You loved them-

Okay um…

Tell me something you’ve never told anyone before.

Nat didn’t respond for a while, whether she was thinking or busy you weren’t sure, you just watched as the typing bubble popped up and disappeared over and over again. You bit your thumbnail in anticipation. You thought it was an innocent enough question but the longer it took her to respond the more it felt like maybe such a simple question was more loaded than you’d anticipated

Maybe you should backtrack and ask another question… 

Just as you were about to call off your previous message Nat’s response came through. It was shorter than you’d been expecting it to be after she’d taken so long.

Nat🔪:

I used to do Ballet… and there was a time when I guess I didn’t hate doing it even though I was forced to.

With a confession like that you have a feeling there’s more to it- most people were forced to do some kind of extracurricular in their youth, plenty of your coworkers were former band kids. You knew that a lot of the time though, those activities could lead to a lot of trauma, some underlying family trauma, some mommy issues, or ruined confidence but you don’t ask. It feels like she’s shared something deeply personal although it might not sound like it to most people. 

And you’ll take anything new you can learn about her. 

The more you learn about her the more you’re fascinated by her. Even the little crumbs of info she gives you- a film she watched the other night, her waffle topping preferences. You think if it were any other person you probably wouldn’t care that much. 

But it’s Nat. 

So you make a notes tab and you start keeping track of the little things she tells you about herself. 

Because it’s Nat. 

And fuck if that wasn’t the most obvious shit in the world. 

You quickly shook your head and picked up your tea to take a sip, you weren’t going to let yourself think like that about someone you’ve never even met- and might never meet- you reminded yourself. You made a quiet noise of contemplation and shifted slightly on the couch before settling on a humorous response you hoped she understood as you acknowledging her loaded admission.

Y/n🍦:

Shit man, I used to do piano lessons

Nat sent back an unimpressed emoji and you barked out a laugh, having successfully eased whatever tension hung in the air- at least on your side. 

Nat was a mystery that was slowly coming unraveled, a puzzle that revealed its pieces little by little. The more you learned about her the more you liked her.

You just wished you could really see her.

Pt.9

A/n: Y/n's personality is based on my shower thoughts~Starry

------

Taglist:

@marvelwomen-simp @cd-4848 @wandanatlov3r @rebeltombraider @ctrlamira @fxckmiup @aliherreraaa @natsxwife @la-douler-ne-finite-jamais @romanoffsgal @moistblobfish

[asukaskerian]

peddling svsss (spoilers abound)

lovingthatofficeyfeel: ok. Now try to sell me on SVSSS because I read the summary and go 'nope, nope, nope icky power dynamics do not want, nooooope' because if it is not that I am also amenable (Book summary: "Half-demon Luo Binghe rose from humble beginnings and a tortured past to become unrivaled in strength and beauty. With his harem of over three hundred wives, and dominion over both the human and demonic realms, he is truly the most powerful protagonist—in a trashy web novel series!

At least, that's what Shen Yuan, online alias "Peerless Cucumber," believes as he finishes reading the final chapter in Proud Immortal Demon Way. But when a combination of rage and a poor meal choice leads to his death, Shen Yuan finds himself reborn into the world of the web novel, in the body of Shen Qingqiu—the beautiful but cruel teacher to a young Luo Binghe.

Although as Shen Qingqiu, he now has incredible power and abilities as a cultivator, he’s destined to be horrifically punished for crimes against the protagonist, so this new Shen Qingqiu has only one course of action: get into Luo Binghe’s good graces before the young man’s rise to power. That’s the only way he’ll escape the awful fate of a true scum villain!")

lovingthatofficeyfeel: ^ like based on that summary, I would never read that light novel on my own

Askerian: oh man yeah it makes it sound like grooming as fuck Askerian: grooosssss

lovingthatofficeyfeel: exactly! lovingthatofficeyfeel: its like this for most of the danmei!

Askerian: it's not like that at ALL

lovingthatofficeyfeel: which is why I want to know why people like it so much

Askerian: ok first of all, the guy he's stuck inside of is a high ranking ice bitch, so he has to speak that way too, BUT! he's a huge nerd inside! Askerian: the contrast between the speech and the narration is sometimes completely hilarious Askerian: also. his screen name peerless cucumber is a dick joke. and the book author's airplane shooting toward the sky is also a dick joke Askerian: this guy is the kind of oblivious demisexual who will read a 600+ chapters harem story for the worldbuilding

Askerian: and the protagonist! he LOVES the main character, so he also looks favorably upon him getting everything life owes him including sex, he supposes, but! none of his wives LOVE HIM PROPERLY. hm. let's flame the author over that. Askerian: anyway so then he lands himself in the body of a teacher to a 14 year old abused kid. who is a kid! and a very adorable kid. yeee time to spoil the shit out of him Askerian: the issue there is that there's a system/game manager forcing plot points and assigning quests and no matter what he does some things must happen, such as his betraying his poor clingy baby student so that he can rise magnificently from a hell dimension and take his place as a demon king Askerian: so when his adorable little student comes back Pissed and starts doing things that look very similar to what happened in the book just before murdering his evil teacher, he starts running. but he also really wants to help his student survive and even thrive! but also, not die in the process PLEASE.

Askerian: meanwhile luo binghe went from abused by sensei to spoiled by sensei to "i will marry sensei when i grow up" to "STOP RUNNING FROM ME AND EXPLAIN"

Askerian: main character can't explain, btw. he'd die.

lovingthatofficeyfeel: ahahahahahahah OMG lovingthatofficeyfeel: see THIS, this is my shit lovingthatofficeyfeel: this sounds freaking God Tier hijinks humour

Askerian: it's so damn fun XD

lovingthatofficeyfeel: you should write the summaries for seven seas' danmei books

Askerian: also the System sells "small scenario pushers" for points Askerian: guy "what's that, ok, let's buy, maybe it'l save my life" => WHY DID I END UP HALF NAKED AND DRENCHED Askerian: luo binghe : hhhhhhh 🍆

lovingthatofficeyfeel: ahahahaha omg, wet hanfu Saves Lives XD

Askerian: shen yuan: idk what distracted him but time to run Askerian: luo binghe: D:< wAIT STOP BEING NAKED AROUND MY LOVE RIVALS shen yuan: oh no he wants to kill me twice as much Askerian: he's Oblivious (tm)

lovingthatofficeyfeel: omg. 'oblivious demi-sexual keeps running away from future-demon-king trying to seduce him'

Askerian: yiss

lovingthatofficeyfeel: this is a fanfic plot in the best way

Askerian: YISS. Askerian: i kinda love luo binghe's character too tbh. he's so nice! but he's such a yandere sometimes Askerian: i mean, nice. :X Askerian: "my fantasy life is to be my master's little housewife and i will burn down the world to make it happen" dude :X

lovingthatofficeyfeel: honestly, good on him for having balanced life goals XD

Askerian: as a kid he's adorable but also already "i hear what you said! i understand it! gonna do what i felt was right tho" Askerian: after he's been given unconditional love by sensei!!!!! but also betrayed by sensei!!! he doesnt know which way is up anymore. it's kinda clear that in the book he was from, his original version was using "seduction and sex with this random new girl that will disappear from the plot in five chapters" to paper the holes Askerian: like, couldn't trust anybody's love because he never had any, but desperately needed it. Askerian: this one's had a taste before, and doesn't know what he must have done to lose it, but he will fix it!! but only sensei will do Askerian: main character keeps expecting him to hook up with dozens of girls and it never happens and he's ?? while also totally missing all the admirers HE is gathering Askerian: also issues because he's a half demon, and sensei said he thought good demons must exist, but he was still rejected on reveal, so does that mean "there can be good demons but you're not one" Askerian: and since he's naturally smooth and it easily goes into manipulation, everything he does or say, sensei takes it as some underhanded threat or plot! he was a demon king in the book ok?! Askerian: book him was NOT nice Askerian: anyway a REALLY fun read

Askerian: though don't expect the sex scene to be good because it's a half-feral "fixing you via magic sex" and he canonically has huge meat :X Askerian: and since he has ZERO experience it uh, goes badly Askerian: tbh the author's gift does not lie with sexy porn

but tbf the point of the scene was NOT to be sexy, soooo...

[sunfiltersthroughwillowleaves]

had a tgcf and svsss crossover idea

ok so xie lian and hua cheng find this book (or whatever a book is in that universe) by an author named "airplane". wtf is an airplane anyways? so they start reading and its about a world a gajillion years in the future where there's paper that's made out of metal and it can change its image on will? and metal birds that carry people like swords except they're called airplanes and they're designed for the usage of many people at once??? why would the author name himself after that? chunks of metal with wheels that don't need horses???

"why dont they use cultivation" you ask, because there is none! so weird, right? anyways, they keep reading and there's so much stuff they call technology that's basically just magic. it's about an overpressured author who eats food that only needs water to be edible and sends his writing over an invisible spiderweb that covers the entire world. tbh, the author did a really bad job explaining all the "tech". overall a really stupid idea for a novel. xie lian honestly sorta likes it, but it's just wierd. the most odd part? these things keep coming out regularly. they're ridiculously long, and unlike other works from the same author, there's no sex scenes.

xie lian kinda likes it, and reads it every now and then cuddled up with hua cheng. hua cheng loves being next to xie lian, who giggles occasionally while reading, but hates the novel. somehow, shi qingxuan finds it, and shows it to ming yi, (shush leave me with my beefleaf) ming yi claims he doesn't like it but reads shi qingxuan's copy of that day's update every night. knows literally every detail, understands teh worldbuilding the best of anyone. feng xin and mu qing don't bother to read it, but they know a little about it.

one day, the next update is about someone who does something called a comment on his work. apparently, they do it a lot. and the character’s name is cucumber. who would name a character cucumber!? this author is weird. anyways the cucumber does a comment about a bunch of mean stuff critiquing the work and stuff. there are more than 3 pages of just mean commentings. the next page is about his metal paper. apparentlu, the metal paper can’t touch water, or else it poisons the water??? this makes no sense. not even ming yi can explain how it works. and then the main character touches the poison water? what a dumb character, remarks hua cheng.

main character wakes up in a cultivation world. apparentlhy main character was writing a story about this world? how dumb. hualien and beefleaf are crossing a road while reading this when a reckless cart driver is about to crash into them. hua cheng, obviously, obliterated the cart and its driver. problem solved! 

later that evening, when the four fall asleep, they don’t awaken (in those bodies, anyways). fengqing finds them, starts yelling their heads off, eventually brings their comatose bodies to ling wen, who shrugs and puts them in a drawer. 

meanwhile, hualien and beefleaf are reeling. they didn't get transferred into different bodies, but they are at a hospital. someone who looks vaguely like ling wen tells them that they were found half-dead under the seats of a funeral of some guy named shen jiu. weird. the nurse tries to charge them but, upon finding the only currency they have is merits, groans and lets them leave.  hua cheng rolls dice. nothing happens. 

xie lian asks where hua cheng’s butterflies are. hua cheng shrugs, but seems visibly on-edge. none of them are able to do cultivation when they try. people are looking at them weird. who the hell does cosplay in the middle of the street? some guy compliments xie lian and hua cheng on their tgcf cosplay. none of the four understand any of those words. someone asks to take a picture of them. take a picture? she pulls out a chunk of metal, holds it in front of their faces, presses next to them. oh, is it a mirror? but she clicks a white circle at the right of the rectangilar mirror, and it flashes bright white. hua cheng begins threatening her for daring to harm xie lian’s eyes, but xie lian apologetically gets him to back off.

the woman apologises and asks if they’re new to the area. shi qingxuan says yes, and she offers the four a place to stay. ming yi holds up his shovel, arguing that he could just dig a hole in the ground and sleep there. he has to be reminded that cultivation doesn’t work here.

back in the danmei world, airplane is no longer making money from his latest series, “an author without cultivation”! there were a few people buying it, but not anymore. they also tended to overpay wildly. airplane somehow pieces it together; (idk) ohhh they transferred to the human world. he convinces the system to let him and cucumber return to their world, but lbh protests. “where are you going shizun shizun dont leave me let me come with you shizun shizun come onnnnn shizunnnnnn” eventually they let him come too. mobei jun is ok with it as long as shang qinghua returns eventually. they transfer back to the human world, where cucumber finds himself in a coffin, at his own funeral. everyone is shocked when shen yuan sits up in his original body. people scream and shout and everyone is very happy, but cucumber barely remembers any of them. it’s been, like, twenty years. he can hardly remember his parents’ names. he smiles, laughs a little, rpetrends to know everyone, and then lbh arrives. through the window. pulls out an enormous sword. people then start screaming, because omg shen yuan’s enormous murder boyfriend is here. his parents scold him a little “why didn't you tell us you got a murder boyfriend” before getting yeeted into a wall. mmkay that’s happening now. luo bignhe and shen qingqiu spend their first day in the modern world in jail.

shang qinghua pays for their bail. apparently, they all arrived back to the modern world a day after sqq’s death, and a day before sqh’s. time travel? they don’t even know at this point. they manage to track down the other four by following a police report on a man in a red tunic and butterfly jewelry threatening a poor tgcf fan, witnesses report. (the woman wasnt even the one who ratted them out, it was the ugy who complimented them on their cosplays haha.) sqq and sqh share a look. that sounds like hua cheng, from tian guan ci fu! isn’t that a really popular danmei? lbh is just sitting next to them like a lost puppy, following them around, reminding shizun that he can tear anyone who dares question his authority to pieces. anyways they find the four. their conversation kinda goes like this.

sqq: hey are you xie lian?

hua cheng: who are you (the four are very concerned as they have never seen metal birds that make loud noises before)

lbh: how dare you threaten my husband

sqq and xie lian: binghe/san lang, calm down

sqq and xie lian make uncomfortable eye contact. woah. that guy also has an overprotective but lovable husband. neat. homosexuality.

xie lian:  yeah im xie lian, this is san lang, ming yi, and shi qingxuan

sqh: *looks at the other, nods* mmkay and are you familiar with the undiscovered gem of a series called “an author without cultivation”?

hua cheng and ming yi roll their eyes, the other two nod

sqx: yeah, what about it?

sqh: yeah, i’m the author! *waits for applause that never comes*

ming yi: so you know why we’re here?

sqq: well did you read it and hate it or somehting?

*lbh is still glaring at hua cheng. hua cheng is still glaring at lbh*

hua cheng: it was very easy to hate

sqh: *sqq laughs* shut up cucumber

ming yi: *snaps to attention* that was the name of one of your characters! peerless cucumber.

sqq: *laughing, elbows sqh* guess someone doesn’t hate it so much after all

*ming yi smacks him on the head with a shovel. lbh smacks ming yi on the head with his fist. they both pass out.*

sqx, catching ming yi: sorry about him, he can be a bit… (doesn’t finish)

sqh: yeah, no problem. my husband’s the same.

hua cheng: what?

sqh: *completely ignores him and moves on* okay so here’s what’s happening; i come from this world. i teleported to your world to do things accidentally after i died. then i stayed in your world and got a husband and started writing again and stuff.

xie lian: what things? and also you havent told us what you mena by we’re all gay. also why are giant metal birds your namesake?

sqh, swallowing: this is gonna take a while

they explain to the tgcf crew and stuff, and they end up grabbing an apartment. turns out, none of them know how to transfer htemselves back. also, they all appear to be human now. they appear the same, they’re all just human. sqh gets them a flat, and they all sleep on the floor.

ok i might update this later but who knows haha

[rarespawnwrites]

WIP Wednesday

A loud clatter and an ominous change in the room’s orientation brought Danny’s attention back to his surroundings. His body had been harshly throwing itself against its bindings, and the gurney had knocked into a mobile medical cart placed too close to it. Something had fallen on him—a tray, spilling medical tools as it fell—and the way his body had thrown its weight, the bed he was strapped to was now tilting in the opposite direction from where the tray had come from.

Danny had better not be about to die ag—WHOA!

One hand had twisted in its restraint to catch a scalpel as everything fell. After his rough landing, Danny found himself hanging sideways from his restraints. He stared at the scattered tools and fallen tray in front of him while the hand with the scalpel worked to cut through the wrist cuff.

Was… was that intentional? Was this body really just working off instincts? What the hell were these instincts?!

Of course it chose to be hypercompetent now instead of earlier, in the middle of traffic, in the scenario that would have prevented any of this. Well… at least his body was taking care of the restraints; Danny just had to figure out things on his end.

After scanning his system for options, he saw that he’d missed system messages. One was from a sender he’d never seen before. These names were all overlapping, though. Nothing about this afterlife game could be convenient. “System Support,” huh? Right.

So, there was a “Transmigrator Support System”, which he accessed with his screen. That seemed automated by comparison to the email-looking message he’d gotten from Peerless Cucumber. This “System Support” was probably… like customer service? Support for users having issues with the system itself. That was promising.

Danny read the message. His account was no longer under review, so he could actually buy things from the system store now! He really needed to find something that could remove the debuff.

【System Message】 Your preferences have context-sensitive advertisements set to “off”. You can change this setting in the options menu.

And now the system was giving him attitude. Great. Well, it was also hinting that it had a solution, which would be actually great. Since his body was doggedly sawing through his restraints, he should probably find something sooner rather than later.

Actually… why had no one come to check on him? That had made an incredible amount of noise. Why was everything so quiet? Someone had strapped him down and just… left him here? With a bunch of tools?

Danny was pretty sure you didn’t need restraints on people you thought were dead. If most dead people were in his place, the restraints would do nothing because their corpse wouldn’t try to escape. In Danny’s case, the restraints would have done nothing because he was dead. Well. If this irritating system weren’t so fixated on nerfing him, anyway.

Danny’s body thumped to the floor as his mind browsed through pages of items in the system store. His body finished freeing itself and stood. It shivered in his hospital scrubs, and his eyes fixed on the sheet covering the table on the other side of the room. He found himself ambling toward it, and refocused his attention on the world around him.

‘No,’ he thought at his body. ‘Bad! Do NOT take the sheet off a corpse! I don’t care how cold we are!’

The good news was that Danny did not have to wear a sheet plucked off a corpse in the morgue.

The bad news was that it was because whatever was under the sheet started moving before he could get all the way across the room.

But hey, there was more good news! Danny couldn’t control his body, so he didn’t let loose with a high-pitched squeal of terror when presented with this horror movie development! You really had to appreciate the little things when the big things were all terrible.

For instance: his human body was always cold from the way his unreleased ice powers cooled his core temperature, and it wasn’t helped by the cool air of the morgue. That was a terrible, big part of his reality. The small bright spot? Apparently, the chill that ran down his spine at the unexpected movement was even worse than the overall cold, because instead of continuing toward the sheet to warm him up, his body instantly changed course to sprint for the exit.

He couldn’t see whatever was going on behind him, but from the scrabbling noises and soft thumps, he didn’t think that whoever that was had been restrained. Because of course they hadn’t. Why would you put restraints on a corpse?

Danny wished he could punch just like, one thing. For, uh… survival purposes.

[ineffectualdemon]

Hi...if you don't mind, can I ask something from SVSSS? What do you think are Shang Qinghua and Mobei-Jun’s greatest personality strengths and weaknesses? Why? What do you love about their dynamic? Sorry if you've answered these questions before.....Thanks.

Sorry for the delay! I first read this half asleep and was waiting to answer when I was more awake and then forgot but I really wanted to answer this

Shang Qinghua's biggest weakness is his self loathing

You get more perspective on that when you know Bingge was a self insert power fantasy and that Shen Qingqiu was meant to be very like Bingge as well.

The dude hates himself because of trauma and doesn't see anyway to change his miserable life partly because deep down he doesn't think he deserves a good one. That's why he's fundamentally unable to change the book on his own.

He hides his self loathing under a mask of not caring and only caring about himself (similar to a certain OG scum villian) because that's the only way he can live with what he did to survive and the people he hurt and his own hurt. By diminishing it

His greatest strength is he is actually extremely loyal. Like Binghe if you pour the slightest kindness on him he blossoms. Even when Mobei Jun was beating him three times a day he also protected him. And let's be fair how much did writing about Mobei save him in his first life? The only thing he created for himself.

The second greatest strength is his adaptability/flexibility. He can adapt and change to new circumstances like lightening (ha!). It served him well as an author who relied on his novel to eat and as Peak Lord of An Ding and surviving Cucumber's affect on the plot

Mobei Jun's biggest weakness by contrast is lack of adaptability. Yes he can adapt quickly in battle by using his shadows but he doesn't bother to learn about human customs until almost too late. He demands and doesn't know what to do when his demands aren't met.bHe is used to getting his way and just stone walls until he gets it. He's spoiled (by airplane) and it shows. He just moves in a metaphorical straight line and makes Shang Qinghua move shit out of his way

His greatest strength however much like Shang Qinghua is his unwavering loyalty. Once he is loyal he is loyal until you betray him. He is utterly devoted to Shang Qinghua and has been for decades. Unwilling to let anything happen to him.

His second biggest strength is well he is slow to adapt on his own he does pay attention and listen. He listens to Shang Qinghua tell Binghe that the way to a man's heart is being pathetic. He listens to his rant even as he yells back at the Ascension. He even picked up what Shang Qinghua was muttering to himself. He doesn't always understand or agree with Shang Qinghua but he listens to him.

What I love about their dynamic is the fact that it has the intensity that you would expect of a god and a king who have sworn undying loyalty to each other. But also has idiot to idiot communication AND old married couple vibes

They are intense but they have been together for decades but they were on completely different pages for most of it while also kinda being on the same page. They are the most unhealthy dynamic in the book and the most well adjusted ship in the book. They are such layered contradictions and I love how on the surface it's kinda fucked up because the power imbalance in that Mobei is a powerful demon king and Shang Qinghua is his servant BUT Shang Qinghua is literally this world's creator and made Mobei Jun specially as his ideal man so that kinda flips it

I also like that at the end of the Airplane extras you see Mobei Jun trying to be softer and kinder and give back to Shang Qinghua and you see Shang Qinghua being more confident and happy and asking for things. it shows how their dynamic can improve

They're just so interesting

This was fun :)

[tresapes]

Short Mary & Matthew ficlet #4

Prompt: Matthew recognises how much Mary supported him during his injury (with a lot some pushing from Isobel)

This one is Long. It took him a while.

Isobel was standing by the window in the library, a cup of tea in her hands, watching Matthew and Lavinia in the gardens below. Lavinia's mouth was forming words, gesturing excitedly, but Matthew was still and silent. He turned his face up towards the sky, and closed his eyes when Lavinia was looking the other way.

It was a sunny day. Maybe the sun would do him good. Shine through the shadows in his mind.

She felt someone stand next to her, and turned to see Mary with her own cup, looking out at the scene below. She found Mary to be a hard person, when she first met her. Now she knew the only thing hard about the young woman was the shell around her heart. It only made her wonder how much she hurt, how many wounds the world had inflicted on her before she shut herself away from it.

------------------------------------------

"Why don't I ask Carson to get us some sandwiches? You didn't eat much at lunch, did you not like it?"

"It was perfectly pleasant."

Lavinia frowned, but seemed to come to a quick decision. "Well. I'll ring for the sandwiches all the same."

Matthew didn't reply.

Carson was very prompt.

Cheese crackers with orange mascarpone and cucumber salmon squares. Matthew bit into one impassively. Lavinia looked on encouragingly.

Isobel frowned. He always preferred a sweet scone with afternoon tea. Maybe he preferred something lighter now.

He wasn't going anywhere after all, where would all that sugar go. The bitter thought hit her like a punch in the stomach and she had to ask to be excused.

Matthew didn't return her kiss goodbye.

------------------------------------

"How was he today? I was needed at the hospital, and only got back a few hours ago." Isobel was bone weary and not just from the long day. Watching her child turn into a shadow of himself really took it out of her, it seemed.

"Oh, much the same. We got to take a turn in the gardens but-"

Isobel noticed the girl frown. Oh, maybe, maybe he finally talked to her. "What is it?"

Lavinia shook her head "I think I made Mary rather cross with me."

"Goodness. What happened?"

"I didn't think, I got Matthew a blanket for the cold. But it had snowed and the blanket was long and- he wouldn't know."

Isobel frowned. No. No he wouldn't know if his legs were wet and frozen. Her hands tightened on her cup and she had to leave it back on the tray, her fingers tightening on her lap under the table.

"How was Matthew, was he upset?"

Lavinia smiled then "No! Not at all. He was kind, he didn't say anything, even though it was so stupid of me. I'll know better next time."

Isobel smiled kindly to the girl, even as her heart was breaking for her son. They'd won the war, but he certainly came back from it defeated.

"I'm sure you will, my dear."

Lavinia was still biting her lower lip "I think Mary was really upset."

Isobel didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Certainly, Mary Crawley would be upset. Her attentiveness and skill when she'd been taking care of Matthew would have been the envy of an army hospital.

Molesley came in to take the tea trays, and Isobel offered her future daughter-in-law another smile. "I shouldn't worry too much. I'm sure Mary… kept it all under control. And she forgives. She might bite, but she forgives. Too much like her grandmother, that girl."

She got a laugh out of Lavinia with that comment, and the girl seemed to relax.

Isobel didn't want to but the image came to her mind anyway. Mary with that fury of the Crawley line swirling in her eyes in that contained way of hers, as she took in Matthew's shoulders hunched in shame, Lavinia fumbling with the blanket, a stream of apologies as she waited for a footman to come and sort it out.

Isobel was lost in thought and didn't realise Lavinia was speaking again "… she didn't stay. I don't know if it was because I made her angry or… I think seeing Matthew like that might be upsetting for her. She's always so polite, but she never stays long if we're in a room."

Isobel nodded, absentmindedly. No. Mary wouldn't stand by and watch any of that.

------------------------------------

"I was reading that."

"Well, you took too long, now I'm reading it."

"You must be joking?"

"You can't just monopolise the latest Montgomery, Matthew. Seven years would be insufficient to make some people acquainted with each other and you seem to need as much to make friends with Anne of Green Gables. It might just be that you don't like each other."

Isobel watched from over her needlework. Matthew seemed put out, but his shoulders were relaxed. His index finger lightly tapping the arm of his chair. Like he was thinking.

"Are you friends with her then? Were seven days sufficient for you two?"

Mary lifted an imperious brow, and pointedly turned the page of the book she was holding. "Of a kind. I was a bit too old for it when the first one came out. But Sybil loved them and made me read the whole book to her."

"And now?"

Mary shrugged "It's rude not to greet an old friend when they visit."

Matthew chuckled and Isobel looked up at the sound, her heart pounding, only to see him turn his face down, and cover his eyes with his hand, rubbing his forehead. Tired. She watched Mary also sneak peaks at him from over her book, her dark eyes reading him more than the words on the page. She hid herself behind the book again, before she spoke:

"I can read it to you, if you'd like."

Matthew looked up, peeved. "I'm not a child."

She turned her eyes back to him, the imperious look back. "Of course not. But we must find some compromise, I'm not just handing this over you know."

"God forbid."

Isobel watched as they stared at each other. Matthew's finger was still tapping the arm of his chair.

"How about… I read it to you?"

Mary smirked, and offered him the book. Matthew smiled as he opened it, and Isobel could cry. He turned to the first page-

--------------------------------------------

"How nice, that I finally get you to myself. A rare gift these days!"

Matthew offered her a small smile, and Isobel could live with that.

"Where are they all anyway?" she asked him, trying to engage him in some conversation as she took a sip of her tea.

"Robert has a meeting with the tenants. Edith and Sybil are in Ripon. You know of course Lavinia's gone to London to sort out some errands for Reggie."

Isobel nodded. Of course she knew that. The girl stayed with her after all. "And Mary?"

Matthew looked out the window. They had a lot of rain after days of snow, and the mud was making it very hard for him to go anywhere. Not that he seemed to mind, even if he wouldn't look at her now, a frown on his face as he watched the world outside. "She's over at Haxby. Richard came around he probably… added one horrid thing or other to the place that he wanted to share with her."

Isobel tried to move past the tone of bitterness in his voice, as much as it hurt her to do so. God knew which of all the things mentioned would be making him bitter. She placed her cup back on its saucer. She'd have to drag it out of him, whatever it was, because he wasn't willingly sharing the things that hurt him with her. Not anymore. "She must be somewhat excited, to see the place she'll call home come to life." she pushed on.

"Downton will always be Mary's home."

The answer was immediate. And final.

Isobel wished she could give her son a nice shake. "Of course. But she'll live there, what does she say, what's it like?"

"Big."

She waited, expecting some explanation.

Matthew gave a short laugh then, and turned to her, lifting his eyebrow in perfect imitation of Mary "Really. It's just big."

Isobel watched as he chuckled to himself, his eyes lost in memory.

Goodness. It was perhaps, more complicated than she thought.

-----------------------------------------------

Isobel wept the night she saw her son standing on his own two feet again. She got home, and kneeled next to her bed, and thanked God in prayer like she hadn't done since she had been a little girl. Her son. Her boy would get his life back.

It had been a few weeks since then. Matthew hadn't moved back home yet but it was only a matter of time. Isobel visited every day, even though it was a flurry of activity there, and the kind of activity that tended to be tiresome.

Some of it was inescapable, like the wedding preparations, but then a maid was hired, or one of the old footmen wouldn't leave and there was a baby in the dining room but nobody seemed to know how he got there or what to do about it, and Isobel couldn't wait to get back to the village where people had normal problems.

She had thought, now that Matthew's whole life was ahead of him once again, and his brooding moods had returned, so would his assertiveness and confidence.

Instead he was often lost in thought, plastering on a smile when he caught someone watching him. More alarming still, he was quite withdrawn as they sat in the drawing room, to discuss some wedding plans, putting on that same smile whenever Lavinia or anyone else asked a question, but always answering with some variation of "Whatever you think is best, I truly don't mind."

Isobel listened to the girl, and made as many contributions as she could, along with Cora and Edith, who had been taking tea with them and discussing plans, Lavinia's excitement being quite nice to see.

They were talking about flower arrangements when she turned to Cora "Do you think Mary could help me pick the bouquets for the bridesmaids? I'm not sure which flowers to choose from, and she knew quite a lot about them when we walked about the garden a few times."

Cora looked lost for words for a moment "Oh… perhaps, why don't you ask her? I know she's got a lot on now, with Haxby, and her own wedding to plan-"

"Plus Mary won't lift a finger for things that don't involve her - like someone else's wedding" added Edith.

Isobel heard Cora's tut at the comment, but she felt a strong, almost maternal, urge to defend the girl. "Well. I for one am incredibly grateful to her, for how she cared for Matthew when he first came back, and I wasn't here to look after him. Even though it didn't involve her."

She watched Lavinia's puzzled expression, and wanted to tut at her own son who was focusing on staring at the carpet, his face pale.

"Did Mary really look after you, back then?" Lavinia asked, very kindly.

Matthew tightened his hand on his walking stick, and swallowed visibly, all the women staring at him intently. Eventually he shook his head a rough smirk on his face, his eyes troubled "You know Mary. She won't miss a chance to push someone around."

He got a chuckle out of Edith for that comment, and Isobel was about to reprimand him when she caught movement out of the corner of her eye, and looked up to see Mary standing at the other end of the room, having walked through the open door, unobserved.

Isobel's hands tightened on her tea cup as Cora greeted her eldest daughter, who was walking towards them, handbag still clutched in her hands in front of her stomach, like a physical shield.

Isobel saw whatever colour was on Matthew's face leave it as he whipped his head around to stare at the object of their conversation.

Mary spoke before anyone could utter another word "Please. Don't let me disturb you I just wanted to say hello. I'm quite dusty from the trip, I think I should like to change."

Cora nodded, eagerly agreeing "Why don't you ask Anna to run you a bath darling? It's been a long day."

"Yes, I think I shall."

Isobel saw her look at Matthew, very fleetingly, before she steeled her spine and turned, walking out of the room through the same door.

Isobel did not need to wonder why Matthew didn't speak another word for the rest of the visit.

-------------------------------------------

Matthew's foul mood persisted. For days. He'd finally moved back to Crawley House, but it didn't make any difference.

Isobel watched him stew in his misery and for once, she let him stew. He deserved it. Mary was being perfectly polite at dinners and visits. But Isobel doubted he managed to have even a moment alone with her. Maybe he finally realised that Mary Crawley did not just spend hours on end keeping a man company to lift his spirits because she had nothing better to do.

Lavinia had gone up to London for some wedding shopping, and Isobel was having breakfast with her son, as normal, for the first time in almost a year. It would have been perfect if he hadn't spent most of his time huffing behind his newspaper.

"You could just apologise, you know."

"Mother…"

"Don't "mother" me. I'm tired of your moping. Surely you can give the woman an apology, it can't be that hard. She's your friend-"

This time, a pained laughter came from behind the newspaper, and Isobel looked up. Matthew dropped the newspaper and got up, grabbing his walking stick and pacing to the window.

"If I start apologising to Mary I shall be at it for days."

"Why is that?"

"Please, mother, stop pushing. You wouldn't understand."

"Won't I? Might it have anything to do with your distinct lack of enthusiasm for your own wedding?"

Matthew turned to her, a frightened expression on his face.

"Or might it have to do with the amount of care Mary showed you, above and beyond that of even a dedicated nurse? Washing you, with Sybil. Sitting by your bedside throughout your stay at the hospital. Being there through your examinations. Being the one to break the news of you injury, of William's death. You think Dr Clarkson wouldn't give me all the details of your stay? That I wouldn't ask?"

She watched him pace in misery, and she let him wallow as she continued "… Or do you think I'd forget finding her cleaning your vomit and telling you everything would be alright? Perhaps you thought that was normal behaviour for a distant relation, I'm surprised you didn't expect Edith or Cora to do the same."

"Stop. Enough. I know this, of course I know."

"Good. Then maybe go and tell her why you told none of this to Lavinia. Or why you told Lavinia nothing of your retracted proposal to Mary, all those years ago, something that should be old history by now, shouldn't it? Instead letting Lavinia expect the poor woman to help plan your wedding."

Matthew shook his head "I wouldn't- I didn't expect-"

Isobel didn't let him misdirect her "… Or perhaps you'd like to not talk about Mary, and focus on you a little more."

Matthew covered his face with one hand, but Isobel had had enough. "Lets talk about why you only felt safe to take out your anger on Mary, and be so beastly to her, because Mary will forgive you anything, won't she? And she will put up with the moods you won't share with Lavinia. Lavinia who you will let mother you more than you've ever allowed anyone, even me, since you left the nursery. And I don't know if that should make me worry, or make me happy- that you'd allow that kind of care."

Her son's face was stricken. Isobel persisted. "But I do worry. Because it's not Lavinia that you can laugh with. Or laugh for. Even in your darkest moments. Is it? And I know you normally like an argument, my boy. So tell me. What are you doing?"

She could see his eyes flood with tears, and it broke her heart all over again. "I'm just trying to do the right thing, mother. That's all I ever wanted to do."

Isobel nodded. She knew this already. "But what is the right thing to do in this situation, Matthew?"

He shook his head, and dropped back on the chair heavily. "I'll go to the Abbey after breakfast. I'll apologise."

Isobel let out a breath. It was a start.

-----------------------------------------

He did go to the Abbey after breakfast. But he didn't apologise.

Isobel watched him find the courage to talk every morning, and then come back empty handed. Either saying that Mary was out, or nothing at all, just shutting himself in the library and not coming out until dinner.

She had to go to the Abbey herself a few days later, hoping to discuss some hospital matters with Cora. Carson informed her that lady Grantham was visiting the dowager countess, but she'd be back soon, so Isobel found herself sat in the library, with a cup of tea, when she heard footsteps behind her.

"… time to stop harassing Carson, I doubt there's anything that significant you wish to speak to me about."

"Stop punishing me Mary, you know there is."

Isobel found herself frozen still. They hadn't seen her, the back of the armchair covering her perfectly. If she made herself known it was possible that they would postpone the conversation to the next century. But if they saw her later… Isobel decided it was a risk she was willing to take.

"Fine. Tell me now, what is it."

Isobel heard her son huff, and could practically picture the annoyance mixing with guilt in his expression "I want to apologise. For what you overheard. It wasn't true."

"I know. It's fine. There's no need for you to apologise."

"It's not fine! Mary-"

"I didn't do anything expecting thanks, Matthew. I don't care what anyone thinks about it. Including you. All I wanted was for you to get better, and you did, so stop with your moping."

Mary sounded tired. Incredibly so. Isobel frowned, and wondered for a moment if she had anyone in her corner. Isobel had finally managed to get through to Matthew, to try and help him untangle his life. She thought of Mary and Sir Richard, and wondered.

Matthew might have seen the same weariness, because he spoke more calmly "I'm still sorry for what I said. You didn't deserve it."

"Fine. Apology accepted. Happy now?"

"…happi-er. Does that count?"

Isobel heard Mary chuckle "I'm the wrong person to ask."

Cora's voice came in through the hall then, and they seemed to find themselves out of time, walking out to greet her.

Isobel quickly picked up her cup and moved across the room, going through the door to the small library. If Carson found her transfer strange as he led Cora to her a moment later, he didn't mention anything about it.

---------------------------------------

"So. Did you make things right?"

Matthew looked up from his book as she walked into the drawing room at Crawley House that evening. Her talk with Cora took longer than expected.

"It's not like you to gossip this much mother."

"I don't think of my care for your wellbeing as gossip."

Matthew looked at her, shaking his head and rolling his eyes before he turned back to his book without another word.

Well. That was an improvement. "Any words of wisdom from your readings?" She said, dropping the topic for now as she took a seat across from him. He was healthy, and he was here. Everything else would sort itself out.

Matthew didn't miss a beat, turning a page and offering a quote "My life is a perfect graveyard of buried hopes."

Oh dear. There was so much more work to be done.

[joys-of-everyday]

SVSSS’s women and MXTX’s commentary on sexism

Every time someone starts with ‘MXTX is great but her women…’, I feel conflicted. I think the way she writes women is secretly brilliant, but that was a conclusion I came to after a long hard think about SVSSS (which was the third series I got into). I absolutely went through the 'MXTX is great but her women...' phase.

So thoughts for my fellow travelers on this journey of enlightenment or whatever. I’m focusing on SVSSS here, because otherwise the post would be more than three times as long. I'm also not... idk how to phrase it... 'starting at the basics' since I think there's plenty already out there on MXTX's strong/not strong presence of female characters. (There’s this for advertisement. Then a somewhat more involved post on Su Xiyan which is brilliant btw. defo recommend.) This is more like... side notes, of things I have yet to see discussed. (maybe someone has discussed them and I've yet to find it.)

1. Ning Yingying, Institutionalised Sexism, and Growth

There were also some incredible female cultivators, but on the whole, these girls’ strength and mental fortitude was lacking, and they often required help… they spent their time playing around instead of actually working. Basically they looked quite hopeless.

What I really have to appreciate about SVSSS is that it slaps you around the face with a giant cucumber so you really can't miss it. This was the passage that made me put down the book and think. Why is this here? What is the point? Idk it just stuck out to me.

So there's a lot to say here about SY's stunning narration, what that says about his internalised beliefs, as well as the portrayal of women in certain genres and how frustrating it can be as a reader/viewer (looking at you, shonen), but I wanted to divest for a second to mention implicit sexism (for no other reason than I happen to care).

In SVSSS, there isn’t much explicit sexism aimed at female characters in world. By this, I mean there is no point at which a character in the world of SVSSS says sexist things to a female character, nor are there moments were female characters are specifically barred from doing anything because of their gender. Of course, it could in part be due to SQQ’s blindness to such issues, but there’s also another facet to this – the abundance of implicit sexism.

The Little Palace Mistress was the Old Palace Master’s beloved daughter. Her martial skills were the product of his hands-on teaching… Meanwhile, Ning Yingying was the beloved youngest shimei who was pampered by the entirety of Qing Jing Peak; she very rarely encountered danger and had virtually no real battle experience.

Ning Yingying is never pushed. She’s loved and cared for, but not expected to excel. The thing with implicit/institutionalised anything is that it’s hard to point to any specific case and go ‘that’s sexist’ or whatever. The effect is only clear when taken over a larger group. Returning to the Immortal Alliance Conference, what do our female participants look like? We have LMY doing her thing, ofc. But QWY? QWR? Their immediate reaction to danger is to cling to the nearest strong person and rely on them for protection. It feels like they’ve never learnt to stand for themselves.

MXTX’s later works often get the ‘there aren’t enough female characters in positions of power’ or ‘all the female characters die’ kind of remarks, but I think there’s something deeper to be said about the kind of commentary it's making on society. Anyway, I won't go deeper here, but the subversion of NYY’s stereotypical role (and so arguably the whole point of her character thematically) is that she doesn’t continue to be the loli icon with IQ 40. When NYY is forced to fend for herself and given the space to grow, she does grow. And isn’t that a nice message?

2. LMY, the Daoist Nuns, and Sex Positivity

Because her face was excessively beautiful, capable of stealing souls, she had to hide it behind a veil all year round, rendering her like unto a flower on a high cliff, unattainable and out of reach.

The women of SVSSS are all about subversions of troupes, and the subversion of LMY’s troupe is twofold. At first, she is introduced as the ‘pure’ one, in contrast to SHL’s ‘sexy’ (commentary on the ‘two types of women: frigid and slut’ narrative). Then she’s the ‘not like other girls’. She’s beautiful but doesn’t care for her looks. She doesn’t care for men but they fall at her feet. She’s stoic and competent, the ideal of a ‘strong independent woman’. And then, right at the end, we learn that she writes very kinky gay porn.

I think there's a lot of disappointment around for LMY's potential not being fulfilled, and while I agree SVSSS on the whole wrapped things up very quickly, honestly? I think this is the funniest twist ever.

LMY a fanfic writer, a shipper, a BL enthusiast. The kind of woman whose literature has always been regarded with something between confusion, denial, and disgust: from the rise of shonen ai and Yaoi of the 60s-80s, or slash fiction in 70s, to the popularity of danmei in China. The CP fan, in all its bravery and ugliness. She's not a hero, she doesn't particularly do anything, other than pursue her hobbies. She's neither ‘pure’ nor ‘strong’, but touchingly realistic.

And even better, she’s not alone. There’s the Daoist nuns, who (hilariously) are nuns who in an apparently life-or-death situations suggest dual cultivation??? (Now celibacy was necessary in some Daoist schools but not all, but since Shen Jiu mentions specifically that there’s nothing strictly wrong with him sleeping with prostitutes because they’re not a Daoist sect, it feels like there’s a subversion lurking there.) (idk they have Catholic girl school vibes.)

ngl, I just love LMY. She's very sexy.

3. LPM, QWY, and Breaking Down the Mean Girl

If LMY is ‘not like other girls’ then the LPM is the ‘mean girl’. Also, the ‘girl who tries to break up the MLs’ of a BL. The two troupes are in the same ballpark. Rich, pretty, privileged. Also petty, stupid, and unnecessarily cruel. More generally, the Huan Hua trio - LPM, QWY, QWR all take different elements of the 'unlikable girl'.

I don’t have many deep thoughts about this, other than their abject failure to make a dent on LBH’s devotion to SQQ being really funny (and an excellent post on QWY which breaks down her character and her relationship to og!LBH), but something that snagged with me is the comparison between these extracts.

Why did he act like one of those bitter courtyard complex concubines with too much time on their hands?

This is about Shen Jiu. Ya know, Shen abuses children Jiu.

He very much did not enjoy the sight of a sixty-year-old coot and a young girl in her teens cooing at each other right in front of him.

This is one of two (?) times that svsss mentions a young girl being married to an old coot (the second being SJ's mysterious jiejie). If you didn't know, the situation of women in much of Chinese history is... not great.

The Little Palace Mistress: Bitter, locked-up woman. She herself says that Luo Binghe treats her like a kept pig.

Also, the existence of Wang Lingjiao in MDZS, servant turned lover, who everyone hates (she’s the one stuck to Wen Chao if you’re like me and forgot her name most the time).

There’s condemnation there (none of these characters are portrayed in a sympathetic light) but there’s a hint of pity there too. LPM has lost a father. QWY a sister. And in MDZS, WLJ is plagued by the anxiety of an unfaithful lover who she relies on entirely for her power.

(Someone (irl!) mentioned Beauvoir to me in a (not svsss!) conversation (lol the brain rot is real but not 100% yet) and now I feel like maybe I should go back to the Second Sex for svsss reasons (so maybe the brain rot is real 🤔). Beauvoir writes a lot about 'bad women'.)

Anyway, this is not particularly organised and doesn't really have a point. I might expand some more on something at some point, but that requires me having coherent thoughts, which probably requires me having actual conversations to get a few things straight, so no guarantees. Whatever. Have a great day :)

[d1s1ntegrated]

hi guys

its my birthday!

send me money cause im hot

IM KIDDING IM KIDDING.

however i did wanna say as i start to pick this back up from my slump, i made a ko-fi! (i promise im not a sellout im just in fucking poverty). i'm still working on the setup but i decided (and this is completely optional. my inbox here is always open) that i wanted to offer a few commission-based fics/writing if anyone wants to show support! it would mean the absolute world to me if even just a few people wanted to even check out the page itself :,) again, not at all a requirement. i figured id just shoot my shot anyways cause i see a few very beautiful and talented writers doing this as well, and maybe im being a bit overzealous but again, it never hurts to try!

also; i've been slacking a lot and i apologize greatly. if you guys didn't know already, ive had a fuck of a month. the ao3 writers curse? it's real! i got sliced and diced like a cucumber in a mandoline and recovery was lowkey ass. not to mention i've just had a super duper busy month; birthday, work, family matters, health issues, and a bachelorette weekend at the end of this month. basically, im running on E. it's a partial reason why i started the ko-fi: im fucking so broke and my job sucks and AGH! being an adult is hard. LOL!

but ANEEWAYZ

enough of my pity party! it's my birthday and i don't wanna ruin the vibes :3 thank u guys for your continuous love and support. just know how much i appreciate all of you. knowing i have....nearly 400 followers now...is fucking wild and keeps me going. genuinely. my mental health has increased tenfold. i cannot thank you all enough.

bai bai for now my loves <3 !!!!!!!!!!

[nazuna-tunnel-vision]

Kohaku analysis

Hi anon, sorry for taking more than 5 months to reply. Kohaku just has so many things going on that I really didn't have a firm understanding of his character and don't know where to start. Still don't actually, but I'll give it my best shot.

Kohaku's main appeal imo is his numerous gaps. There’s a ridiculous amount of them, but the main ones are that he's pink, he's 160cm, he's the youngest character at 15, and yet he has no qualms about killing a man.

He could kill a man and yet was locked in his house until just this year. He could kill a man and yet he's terrified of zombies and wouldn't be able to kill them.

He talks like he has his things together (and he sort of really does), and yet he is still the youngest in the cast and so many people around him nurture him and watch his growth with warm and loving eyes.

Everyone who lays their eyes on him immediately treats him like their cute little bro, and yet he seems to be the more emotionally stable and mature one in Double Face - where his partner is literally the self-proclaimed Mama in the series.

I think the most confusing part about Kohaku is his maturity and simulataneous lack thereof. How he manages to be emotionally mature in DF, and yet is still the baby in Crazy:B. So for this post I'm going to delve into how and why Kohaku manages to do this.

---

(Please bear in mind that I haven't read the !! main stories and the stories for No Name Yet and Ariadne, so i might be missing important characterisation.

Also be warned that I will be referencing events in Dark Night's Passing, Secret Service and Sudden Death. Spoiler warning!)

I feel like most people get really blown away by the shock factor of Kohaku being trained as an assassin. And together with the way Kohaku carries himself, a lot of fans forget that there is a lot he doesn't know about the world.

He grew up in isolation and could only physically step foot into the rest of civilisation at the end of the ! era. And then he promptly got lost. (He asks Anzu for directions to ES in his first character story.) He doesn't know how to choose his own modern clothes either. The clothes we see him wearing were picked out by the salesperson, and for his Feature Outfit he chose traditional wear similar to what he wore growing up.  

Kohaku is honestly very similar to Hiiro in this respect. I think it's just not as obvious to non-KohakuPs because:

Kohaku has less questions. This can be explained by how he grew up on the internet, so he had the advantage of familiarity with technology.

Screentime differences:

Hiiro’s ignorance was emphasised throughout the novel that was !! Main Story 1

Kohaku had one (1) introductory chapter that highlighted his ignorance. The rest was sprinkled in mini-talks and event stories.

Differences in other characters' responses to their questions:

Hiiro gets Aira loudly yelling, without fail, that he's stupid and ignorant. And then Hiiro yells his apologies in response. The whole exchange is very noisy and impossible to ignore. (It also happens multiple times.)

Kohaku’s interactions, however, tend to go very smoothly. They’re always along the line of, "Oh, what is this? Ohh so that's it. Thanks for teaching me!". Clean and simple, no jabs and just question > answer > thanks. Or he'll say, "I've only known about this through the internet! I'm looking forward to experiencing this myself this year." And no one comments on it, except for maybe a “Fufu I hope you have a good experience.” It’s all very short and pleasant. Nothing you would take note of unless you’re a KohakuP and realised you’ve seen them lots of times

So anyway, in contrast to Kohaku’s general cool and judgemental "Madara/Rinne-han you’re so stupid” vibe, he really is not that wise in the ways of the world. To be frank, I think his cool-as-a-cucumber behaviour is very boyish of him. You know, when you're a teen and pretend to be more grown-up than you actually are.

And Kohaku is acutely aware of how little he knows. Kohaku has low confidence in making his way through the world, even though he generally acts very capable. This low confidence is the focus of the Honey Bee scout story. It's a very, very cute story where Crazy:B finds ways to push him out of his comfort zone while still respecting his 15 year-old pride. Basically Kohaku was going to shy away from something and Rinne goes "Ha bet you can't do this!" Kohaku reacts very much like a kid by immediately biting the bait. So cute! Another point for the KohakuPs who love the cute and child-like Kohaku. I wouldn’t call Kohaku immature, but he sure isn’t a mature adult either. He has a lot of growing left to do!

Kohaku just generally exudes this little brother energy as easily as breathing.

I think part of it is his size and pink hair colour and baby fat.

Another is probably how open he is about how little he knows. Like Hiiro, he’s not shy about asking for clarification. If you hang around him for long enough, you probably come to expect and accommodate the gaps in his experience.

He’s also super forthcoming and genuine with his praise, admiration and gratitude. The instant he thinks of something nice, like "wow this person sure is skilled!" he'll just let the person in question know. (Unless you're Rinne - you tease him too much for him to want to praise you genuinely to the face orz.) I think people just like being around him and being nice to him because of this habit, and they become nicer and better people in his presence. ((I am looking at HiMERU in particular.))

And despite what I said about his teenage pride, Kohaku's also very gracious and accepting of being consistently assigned the little bro. His attitude to realising that people adopted him is just "huh? well okay I guess. Thank you for your help." He doesn't see it as being patronising; he recognises that people just want to be nice to him and lets them + is grateful for it. (Again, Rinne is an exception because his modus operandi is to bully Kohaku and Kohaku Knows This.)

I think these factors form the basis of his relationships with everyone (minus Madara and his family) where he’s the little baby Kohaku-chan that everyone loves to dote on. And he lets them, and also lets them know that he is grateful for their care! It's super wholesome and cute. Ra*bits-esque, even.

---

But despite all these child-like parts of him (especially him not knowing a lot of common knowledge), he also has a lot of. I don’t know what to call it, I guess emotional maturity in his interactions with others. He's always very genuine and sincere and respectful, and this doesn't ever change unless you're deliberately fucking with him (Rinne).

It's most obvious when you look at Double Face and his interactions with Cagiest Bastard in the Whole Series, Mikejima Madara.

This part requires a good deal of understanding about Mama's issues and Oh Boy Is It A Lot! But what you need to know is that Madara's family is involved with the police and the Shinkai Cult and Madara was been elbows deep in that world from birth. He beats people up off screen and sends the mafia after them and doesn't blink. And his emotional walls reach stratospheric heights. He calls himself Mama and is extremely friendly, but he never really lets anyone close. Headcanon that it's bc he wants to be as close to others as a Mama, but is purposely assigning himself a role that most ppl reject bc he is afraid of actually being that close to people. He's been in a solo unit for the whole of the ! era and was acting alone even before then. Talking about his issues and true feelings are simply not something he does. He buries it under layers of Wasshoi Wasshoi Festival Man Mama. Sometimes he alludes to how estranged he feels but before anyone can meaningfully respond, he jets off to another part of Japan/the world and is uncontactable for a few months.

There's no time to really go into what Madara's issues actually are, but basically Anzu (and the enstars writer Akira) created DF because she wanted Madara to have a friend. Kohaku as an assassin and Madara as the kid of a mafialord just Get Each Other the way others don't. Just look at Dark Night's Passing. It's about feeling too dirty with sin to truly assimilate with the bright sparkling world of Ryuseitai/Tsukasa. It's about not being able to talk about their feelings about their involvement with the underworld because they don't want to sully their friends. Madara sort of talks about it with Kuro, but Kuro is an ex-delinquent and beating other misguised youths up is nothing compared to what Madara is still involved in. Kohaku is probably more comfortable with Crazy:B than any other unit because of their themes of being rejects and rulebreakers, but that's still not the same as assassination. I don't think Kohaku ever came clean to them about his family. Kohaku & Madara just truly do understand each other in a way no one else can.

And despite all that, Madara still tries to distance himself from Kohaku. 😡👎👎. Kohaku has to chase this mf ""unit leader"" down to get updates of their shared unit's work. Kohaku has to call Madara and gets sent to voicemail every time. He has to call up everyone he can think of who could be in contact with Madara and then fly his ass across Japan to beat up Madara up. (He doesn't actually beat Madara up because he's a good kid. He just joins Madara in whatever he was working on and helps him and reminds him that he is no longer alone.)

Anyone in Kohaku's place would be completely justified in thinking that Madara's more effort than he's worth and give up or lash out at him. Just the way Madara likes it! With people so far away from him that he can't hurt them or vice versa (Madara ignores the fact that the act of pushing others away is in itself hurtful.)

But Kohaku doesn't abandon Madara. He takes things pretty damn well imo.

---

Kohaku re: dirty jobs & the Underworld is just so. He's so hopeful even while being born in and knowing the shit side of the world. It breaks my heart and fills me with awe with how disillusioned and yet hopeful he is with the world.

Kohaku in the early stories constantly talks about how the world & people's hearts are dirty. And yet, whenever he receives help (...often, bc of his politeness and little bro energy) he also always comments that kindness still exists in this world. Kohaku, especially in Dark Night's Passing, is a very jaded child. He thinks that his family's line of work is pretty dirty and hates being born into it, but still says he is okay with sacrificing himself for the Suou's. He thinks the world is rotten, that injustice will always exist, and that sacrificing himself is okay, but does whatever he can to ensure that the good people in his life don't suffer.

Kohaku doesn't roll over and give up. He finally has freedom after 15 years and he is so excited to experience all the good things the world has to offer. He knows it comes with bad things too, and accepts it like a champ! Takes it as a foregone conclusion.

It contrasts so sharply with Madara that I just gnnh. Madara is tired. He has given up. He's just floating along trying to help his loved ones while fighting a war in his head and heart against the instinct to also push them far away.

Madara and Kohaku initially connected over their shared understanding of the rotten world and their roles in it, but their attitudes towards living in such a world and with such a role couldn't be more different. Madara believes that he never belongs in the sparkling world everyone else inhabits, and he tries not to "sully" it by never entering it. Kohaku accepts the world, both its rotten and good parts, with an almost zen-like countenance that you really wouldn't expect from a 15 year-old freshly entering the world. Kohaku is excited and accepting and open-minded of all the world has to offer (as long as he doesn't look stupid, because he is 15 and freshly interacting with people irl, he cares about appearances.) Kohaku uses his assassin role to protect himself and those he cares about; it's not something that he even conceives as holding him back.

This really uniquely positions him to set Madara back on the path to heal, because he shares a similar background and yet offers perspective that Madara would not have accepted from any other person. Yes this turned into a DF dynamic analysis but Kohaku was literally created to be a Madara foil, so. That probably just means I'm doing my Kohaku analysis right.

---

Explaining Kohaku's emotional maturity

From a meta perspective, Kohaku's emotional maturity can be attributed to the fact that he was explictly written to be Madara's friend and confidant. He had to be a character that could make Madara feel comfortable enough to let his walls down. He also had to be a character that didn't have the same trauma response and who could handle Madara's.

Lorewise, I think Kohaku's emotional maturity when it comes to relationships (being so open, honest and respectful) can also be explained by his upbringing.

The fact that Kohaku is so open and honest and respectful can be a bit surprising, considering how he was, y'know, locked up for 15 years and all. You expect him to have some very tragic backstory, where he was abused and went through grueling and traumatic assasin training like Killua from Hunter x Hunter or something. You expect him to be cagey and defensive, like Madara or worse. Then you read Sudden Death and it becomes apparent that the chances of Kohaku having been abused are abysmally low. Kohaku is very, very loved by his family. There are still things that don't add up, like Kohaku still having been locked up in a dimly-lit room for 15 years and speaking of his growing up years so negatively. But I'm inclined to think that against all odds, his family treated him very respectfully as a little man and he was raised well. Maybe his distaste for his upbringing was because his family never really tried to justify it or gaslight him into thinking that it was normal and okay. The Oukawas are pretty cool!

---

TLDR for this whole post; Kohaku is very accepting, genuine and forthcoming. He can put even the most guarded people around him at ease and inspires them to be better people just by being himself around them. He was written perfectly to bounce off Madara (and Rinne).

He is also very small and cute. People can't help but dote on him. He is also so excited to finally participate in the world, but feels the tiniest bit of trepidation. He is growing bit by bit every day! Basically he would belong at Ra*bits is what I'm saying. If you ignore the whole assassin thing.

[kayakoto-enterprises]

The Poisonousness [1/2]

Cats are afraid of cucumbers. Read this like an issue. Sorry if the tone is off or out of character. Part 1 of 2!

tw for self harm or drug use mention. not explicit.

Tldr; when you wake up in a house next to a murderer, what would you do.

The feline eyesight is typically nearsighted. It helps that their sense of smell and sight work exceptionally well in the wild. A cat jumps in fear when it sees a cucumber, or any elongated colorful item really. "A snake" it yelps as it runs to avoid being bitten. As much as it is possible that a cat can come out alive of a quarrel like that animals prefer to avoid conflict. So they stay far, far, far away.

Julianne woke up before me this morning. She shook me awake when she realized we overslept. It was 9 in the morning yet I was not in a particular rush to go open the store. I woke up expecting that the dread would wash away soon. There was nothing signaling that the world would end again today. I should have taken care of her when I had it. Silenced it before it could cry for help in the streets. But this morning she was there in my kitchen eating cold spaghetti. On my spot was the cranberry pie I promised I would get to last night. She didn't have a sense of urgency in her face like she was fighting to keep herself together. It was like a morning before Thursday. "How fake" I thought.

Still I reached for a fork and sat across her. Her eyes laser focused on a sketchpad mapping out thumbnails. I began eating not saying a word. What else is she thinking? What else are you planning? What was she drawing? Was she discribing on paper what she saw?

She looks up to me from her lashes.

"Hi honey, not going to work?" Julianne smiled, yawning in between before her teeth instinctually chattered. The ice melted. I snort.

"Is there a bird outside?"

"No." She also laughed "Tic. It just happens. You going today?"

My mind weighed on whether I should come to work. I contemplated looking after her, observe every move, corner her with a question, or run to the forest. If I did go to the shop, would she make a run for it? Tell the police, tell her neighbors, tell the first person she saw? I imagined that morning the area around the block was taped off. Murmurs that were heard from the end of town. His. Fucking. Smile.

I had a moment to calm down. My eyes focused back to Julianne who was anticipating an answer. Her eyes furrowed with concern. We're still acting, aren't we?

"Are you okay, Sam?" She placed down her pencil to pick up her cup.

"I-- I will. Nobody is in a rush around here, anyway. Besides, I've gone to the shop at 12 pm when Charlie was around." I lied, quickly putting on a straight face. It was believable enough for her to shrug. She passed to me the tissue holder when she noticed a cranberry smear on my lower lip.

"Exactly why I chose to move here. It can be 1 pm right now and I wouldn't be so worried about wasting my time."

Her waning manners were easily detectable. She did not remain eye contact, her voice grew softer, and she ate quickly as if to be in a hurry. She stood up and quickly swept my clean plate to wash.

"Hey, there's still coffee if you like."

"No." I replied, void of emotion. "You can keep it."

It ate away in my brain. I kissed Julianne goodbye before heading out if the house. I turned on the engine and drove to the next street. Crawling back to the rear of the house I held my breath watching her clean the coffee maker. The mask came off. She was frowning, somber and deep in thought. Scraping the coffee grounds with her ears pulled back. Her tail slowly swaying. There was a timer above her head. She mentally counted the hours, minutes, the seconds before I came home. There's a murderer in this house. There's a snake next to me.

"It should come in a week. I'll call the sister store at Copper Shore to have it delivered next week." I jot down a reminder on my journal "Need anything else, Liv?"

The kangaroo looked back to the giraffe behind her. They both shook their heads before she proceeded to pay.

"How have you been feeling? It's unusual for you to open so late." Liv asked. She set what seems like dozens of bangles on the cashier top then continued writing her details down.

"Overslept. Had too much fun in bed." I joked "You two must've experienced the same most days, yeah?"

The kangaroo hid behind Kaku who was laughing along with me. He opened his backpack to look for something.

"How are you and Julianne lately?" He started after I put down the telephone.

"Great. Honestly she's the sleepyhead between the both of us."

"Can't believe it's gonna be a year until you two started dating!" Liv chimed in "Usually around this time a couple start bickering or they start growing resentment.."

"So far, nothing thankfully." I gritted. Kaku interrupted the awkward air as he handed out a white and blue envelope.

"Didn't you and Lola last 40 years? All it takes is communication and a lot of patience." "Honestly, all my other girlfriends were short term. I do have a better feeling about her." From the window of the door I spotted from across the street Julianne strolling by. She had a canvas bag and wearing white like a saint. I gulped.

"We're sorry for soliciting advice for your relationship. It's much more different than ours" Liv waved "by the way, RSVP for two!"

They exited the store as my eyes followed the cat as she walked out of sight. I locked the door and sprinted to the next corner.

Why do people creep themselves close to danger? They step into landmines, risking their time, their fortunes, their lives. Is it fun? Is it pleasurable? Do you really have nothing to lose? Disabling your senses. Ignoring the warning signs. Letting it consume them. Lesser vices, bad habits, horrid relationships- let the poisonousness inside. It strangles and sickens you 'til it kills you. Some sick indivuduals love the poisonousness. I have a sick girlfriend.

I found her at a craft store swatching inks. She kneeled looking at the color names, whispering them to herself. She settled on the rose ink, like usual. It was a rare color to find in a shop so niche but ever since she came around they've stocked at least 5 boxes a month. I took a closer look through the door. Julianne did not look at all tired or worried. She was...fine. Nothing indicated that she was going to go to the police. Nothing indicated she was gossiping about it to the shopkeeper. It was just a regular afternoon.

I finished a half day of business today. I breathed in as I came into the truck, hands shaky as the image of a year ago played in my mind. The town lit up tonight. At least there were families going out again. Couples huddling together into the theatre. Friends laughing to bars. I'm thankful that at least my home's heart is still beating, breathing and still sleeping.

The house lights were open. The living room was dim and there was nobody in the kitchen. Julianne's shoes were tucked on the side of the doormat, her spare keys laid on the ceramic plate. I called out for her but there was no reply. Shower. She must've come home just minutes ago. I switched the kitchen lights open and next to me was her sketchbook. The rubber bound the buldging contents. She opened up her new bottle of ink, swatching it on the receipt on top of it. I slowly took the rubber off and flipped through the pages, stickers and sticky notes flying to the chairs. I fought the temptation to savor each page, intent on a target but I still could not help but be enamoured by her talent. I arrived at a page full of rose ink, with shaky handwritten notes and water spillage. It looked recent. I bent down to read it clearly.

"OH GOD OH GOD OH FUCK" "SAM IS A KILLER!" "GOD I HOPE I'M DREAMING" "WHY DIDN'T SHE TELL ME? SHOULD I TELL HER? HOW WILL SHE REACT?" "AM I DREAMING? DRUNK? HIGH?" "SHOULD I CALL SOMEONE?"

"Is she a serial killer? Is she coming for me next?" "..Why didn't she just kill me?"

Next to these thoughts were little rectangles with what appeared to be incomplete triangles and a stick figure in the middle of it. Blank pages later there was an illustration of the crucifix she saw in pink and black. I could feel my breath picking up reading the note at the side: "Piece of Cake". A small hand rested on my side.

"Sam, what are you doing?" Came out like an exclaimation more than a question. Her tail puffed up and eyes shot wide open. I took a step forward to hold her hand but she jumped back. "Just looking at your art. You left it open." "You opened it." She sighed "Do you want to talk about it?" "What is It?" I was swimming back to the act. Julianne slumped back on the couch, crossing her arms and looking away. "Then let's talk about It."

I scooted next to her, tilting my head to meet her eyes. She frowned.

"Sam, I didn't mean to walk in on you..killing someone." "You have no business knowing if I kill something." I insisted, placing my foot down as early as now "I do what I like whether you like it or not." "Someone! That was someone, Sam." Julianne hissed "God but that's not it, I didn't go looking for you knowing you kill, I just innocently..saw you on the other side of that stream. I..I just wanted to ask you if we can eat together. Eat lunch together.."

I wanted to retort back why would she eat in a forest but I kept my mouth shut. She covered her face in disappointment.

"Why do you do it?"

"It centers me. Like a stress reliever. In the same vein as perhaps drugs or self harm. But this just works for me. It's natural."

She just nods. She frowns looking at her own scars and looks back to me. She's thinking I should get a therapist. What does she know about me?

"...Well. You know what I do now. What are you feeling?" She leaned back on my arm. We both looked into our blurry reflections on the television. We waited minutes until an answer came. "Sad. Mad. Confused. And..sort of relieved." That last answer shocked me. I looked back to her to make sure I was not next to another rodent. "Holy shit, why are you RELIEVED?" I raised my voice. "I wanna talk about something else. A secret." "What is it, Honey? You fucking kill people too? You wanna impress me with your body count?" "NO! No, I mean, partially but I don't kill people. I just wanted to share that I KILLED SOMEONE!" I instinctively covered her mouth, sitting her back down on the couch and shushing whatever she was yapping out next.

"Come on, now. Calm down. Let's talk like adults about this. I don't want you to get caught too, fine?" She placed her hand over mine as she attempted to calm herself down, looking at me before her voice drew into a whisper.

"Fine..yes, I've killed someone before. In my defense it's because I was friends with a..toxic friend. She belittled me, talked over me, just exploded her anger on me. I..I will admit that I hurt her too but she was just so unpleasant it drove me mad. I was so tired of being so small and worse than her that in a heated fight we..we..." Her eyes welled with tears thinking about the moment she secured it. The gentle paws I brushed knew the thickness of an artery. Those claws could be deadly if not handled right.

"Well..you understand, right? You kill, I've...killed. I won't kill again but you do get why I did, right?" The same bitter medicine. The same excuse. My eyes narrowed, pushing her into the couch.

"Don't patronize me. Don't fucking use me as an excuse. You tell me what animal you killed right NOW." I couldn't help it. Her eyes widened even more, ears pulled back and whiskers shaky.

"Sam. Sam she..she was a jackal. She's a jackal. A bigger animal. Sam, she could have killed me." "THAT'S NOT HOW IT WORKS!"

I slumped from the couch, laying down on the floor after yelling my throat out. I have never felt so afraid but so furious. I shut my eyes recollecting myself. Meanwhile Julianne stood from the couch, her feet shaking as she ran back upstairs. I curled up into a fetal position as the air got colder and the silence deafened. I felt a shake on my shoulder. I tossed back to look up. Her eyes were swollen, fur patched up illuminated by the faint warm light.

"I..I think I'll sleep at my apartment tonight. Thanks for having me here."

She gently shut the door after whispering goodbye. The only person who loved you in this whole world. How could you do that to her?

Oh well.

[anticomedygarden]

how do they feel about the idea that the tomato is a fruit?

Tbh any hoo character that comes to mind strongest but if you need a specific idea I choose Hazel

I love this prompt! tysm 😍

y'all I did research on this one

-

Hazel had never given much thought to the tomato debate. They weren't her favorite to begin with, but she also just didn't have much opportunity to be around them. Growing up Black in the South in the Depression between two world wars with a mother only willing to spend her money on the finest of fineries didn't leave much room for tomatoes. Living in Alaska during wartime? Hell, no. She preferred to leave produce arguments to farmers, anyways.

Until she became a praetor.

"It's a vegetable!" a red faced son of Apollo, Thomas, yelled, standing guard in front of the Tiber.

"It's a fruit!" the brown haired daughter of Ceres screamed back. Hazel thought her name might be Molly.

Both teens were completely decked out in armor and weapons having come off guard patrol a few minutes ago, already fuming over the red food, long enough for Bailey, Camp Jupiter's newest recruit, to come get Hazel. She had been slogging away at a stack of paperwork, so she wasn't complaining.

By the time they'd returned to Thomas and Molly, the argument had escalated to a full on stand off.

The son of Apollo raised his spear. "Vegetable!"

The daughter of Ceres gripped her sword. "Fruit!"

"Okay!" Hazel said, finally stepping forward, her own gladius held out in front of her. "What is going on?" There was not a world or time Hazel thought she would ever exist in in which two people could have such strong opinions on tomatoes.

Unfortunately, that world and time did exist, and she was currently standing in it. Both Thomas and Molly erupted into bitter accusations, voices pitched so high Hazel had no hope of understanding them.

She closed her eyes and thought of a simpler, quieter time, years away from this weird tomato hell. Sadly, when she opened her eyes, she wasn't ethereal.

"One at a time," she said.

Thomas waved a hand at Molly, apparently ceding first speaker rights. She took a deep breath and began, "We were doing guard duty and somehow got on the topic of food, and he-" she pointed "-said tomato is a vegetable. Obviously, that's wrong, which I told him, and he went insane."

"I did not 'go insane,'" Thomas said, putting air quotes around 'go insane.' "I explained why tomatoes are a vegetable, and she told me to 'stop being stupid, stupid.'"

Now, Hazel was a reasonable young demigod. She knew that in matters of agriculture, she should trust the child of Ceres. She also knew that these two in particular had been getting into a lot of fights lately despite having been close friends for a while. That meant either something had happened between them or it was the teenage version of hair pulling. However, since it seemed that Molly had said the inciting line this time (and Hazel kinda wanted to see where this was going now), she couldn't in good faith just declare that Molly was right.

Hazel calmly turned to Molly. "Molly, why do you think tomatoes are a fruit?"

The other girl crossed her arms. "'Cause they are."

"Ha!" Thomas exclaimed. "She can't come up with anything."

Before Hazel could give him a thorough admonishing, Molly smirked. "Oh, I can come up with plenty, but I wouldn't want to make you look stupid."

Thomas' face somehow got even redder. "Come on-"

"For starters, fruit come from the flowering part of the plant-"

"We don't eat flowers-"

"Of course, the flower just serves as attraction. The actual fruit comes from the plant's ovaries, which is what a tomato is."

Hazel was watching the fight so intently that she completely missed the mention of the reproductive organ, though she did glance around to make sure there were no kids anywhere.

Thomas stared. "Then what are vegetables?"

Molly rolled her eyes. "Any other part of the plant."

"What about pumpkin?"

"Fruit."

"Cucumber?"

"Fruit."

Thomas threw his hands up in the air, disturbingly mindless of the spear in his right hand. "Oh my gods!"

Hazel had to admit that this was starting to get a bit ridiculous.

Molly levelled a glare at Thomas. "Got something to say?"

The son of Apollo shifted. "Nutritionists and culinary-"

"Ha!" Molly scoffed. "Cause nutritionists and culinary artists know so much about botany."

Hazel continued to stand in between the two, quickly becoming less and less sure of herself. This was so far out of her depth, yet somehow seemed so high stakes. It wasn't just the tomatoes' fate she had to decide, but pumpkin, cucumber, and presumably all other juicy, seedy vegetable/fruit.

She tried to imagine what her friends would say.

"Listen to the child of Ceres," Annabeth would say. "Fruit is ovary, and tomato is fruit."

"It's squishy and seedy," Percy would say. "It's a fruit."

"There's no real taste," Frank would say. "Vegetable."

"It's low in sugar," Will would say. "It's a vegetable, and a good source of lycopene and vitamin C."

"I don't care," Nico would say. "Leave me alone."

She took too long. Without her noticing, Molly had managed to grow a medium beefsteak tomato in her hand not holding the dagger, and in one smooth motion, lobbed the thing at Thomas' head. "Eat ovary, dumbass!"

Mesmerized, Hazel watched the tomato sail through the air and land on Thomas' face. Molly should be proud of herself; the firm fruit didn't burst on impact, but instead slid to the ground where it sat, vibrantly innocent.

She decided now was the time to be a Praetor. "Seriously, guys, come on." She looked at Thomas. "Go to the infirmary and get an ice pack." Then, she turned to Molly. "And you're on stable cleaning duty for two weeks. And both of you, apologize."

Molly and Thomas both looked at her, and she sighed. "Does it matter?"

"Yes!"

She barely restrained herself from rolling her eyes. Ultimately, the decision was easy. Rare memories of biting into the sweet, rubbery food, juice and seeds filling her mouth, spilling out the corners and running down her chin in the summer heat of New Orleans and later under the gentle Alaska sun, filled her mind.

"It's a fruit," she said.

"Yes!" Molly clapped at the same time Thomas said, "Aw, come on."

Later, when Frank found the paperwork for the tomato incident (as Hazel had taken to calling it), she had to laugh at the confusion that covered his face as he held it up for her to see. "Um, what?"

She took his hand in what she hoped was a comforting gesture. "You don't want to know."

[chiangyorange]

more rottmnt game changer thoughts: i like the idea of them switching off who plays sam so they all have versions of The Suit™ because i fully believe they are all capable of being the most unhinged hosts ever

anyway heres my reasons why i chose who i did for the escape room and literally its because

leo: youre not getting a fucking joke out of me until im put of this room! cassandra, directed at cards: lets go baby lets go leo: you want BITS?? leo: YOU LET ME OUT OF THE ROOM FOR BITS, MOTHER FUCKER!

and

cjj: you can go ahead and take your podiums. raph: PODIUMS?? cassandra: im sorry were not done? leo: yeah now were doing a fucking episode of 'junior says'

(more episode ideas under the cut)

yes or no - mikey is hosting (for psychologial warfare reasons)

cjj as zac (him creeping up behind cassandra with a goofy crown is a HILARIOUS mental image)

cassandra as brennan (monologue intensity)

april as ally (her fucking up the rules even tho shes the first one to figure it out is really good)

sound impression challenge (aka noise boys series) - april is hosting

donnie as josh (THE GIANT BOSS IN A CONFERENCE MEETING.)

raph as zac (imagine him doing the moose. IMAGINE. “ muuuuuuu,,,? moooooorr?? mooouuuuuur???!!”)

leo as brennan (AUSTRALIAN SPANISH TEACHER CMON ITS RIGHT THERE)

as a cucumber - donnie is hosting

splinter as katie ([gets blind folded in front of a knife throwing board] "dont tickle me.")

april as brennan ("once the phone left, i was no longer participating in this world. whose phone? april? that's made up.")

mikey as carolyn ([holding a snake] "this is a moment for me. i dont care about your little comedy show. i'm communing with nature.")

sam says (1) - cjj is hosting

leo as brennan (remembering the virtuous economic cycle after like 1 min of staring at it)

april as izzy (after recieving an air horn after the 'dont flinch' challenge and uses it immediately)

cassandra as lou ("oj simpson is [REDACTED]")

a sponsored episode - cjj is hosting (hey junior where ya from? recurring bit is so fucking funny come ON now)

april as trapp (parmesan lemon biter)

splinter as grant (starter of the "hey junior? where you from?" AND "would you take a bite?" [of parmesan covered lemon])

raph as rekha ("would you take another bite?" [of parmesan lemon])

filmed before a live studio audience - leo is hosting

sunita as becca ("hi grandgoogly! no! im being embarrased publically!")

april as izzy ([climbs into the fridge] "im not getting back in the fridge. im a GROWN woman")

cassandra as erika ([breaks potted plant] "of course the one i figured out is the one where you have to smash something.")

[promptsforyourwhumpfic]

WT #5: "It's Broken"

Summary: Spy AU. r/AITA post from a throwaway account asking if they're the asshole for accidentally torturing their best friend.

WC: 1363

Am I the asshole for torturing my best friend, despite him not knowing it was me? [UPDATED] + Poll

Throwaway account for obvious reasons. 

So I work for a… company with enemies. Lots of enemies. And my job is to make sure those who come prying, don’t get off easy when they get a little too nosey. Seven of these enemies come in the form of branded assassins, and they’ve been on our asses for a while. I won’t use their name as I don’t want any hate/harassment to go towards them, but If you didn’t know, they’re the UK’s legion of puppies - legal assassins and infiltrators who are conditioned to think they’re doing good, but truthfully they’re just nuisances. Like, really annoying. Why can’t we be chased by the French ones? They’d put up a much better fight…

Ugh. Anyway, the pups got in the way of several shipments that stopped the boys getting paid, they nearly got my brother arrested and they killed a dozen higher-ups - you wanna know how hard they are to replace? They do all this for clout and money; bigger enemies pay the small enemies to try and take us out, and for what? We’re a family business, for christ's sake! All we do is move shit around and own a few stores, what’s so threatening about that? Nothing I’ll say! I’m just trying to put food on the table and these assholes are trying to stop that. Not all of us belong to institutions who feed us cucumber sandwiches and lobster at the drop of a hat. 

He’s probably there right now, swaddled in a private hospital with a team of doctors putting him back together. 

I’m not looking for sympathy, but I guess I hate them so much because one of them killed my dad. I was a wreck! 

So yeah, I fucking hate them. They took everything and continue to take - my brother had to step in and take over dads role and it hasn’t been easy for him! For any of us! And those bastards got away with a pat on the back and a warm bed while we had to relocate a warehouse for the millionth time. My dad was just sitting in his office holding his gun as he usually does - so what if it happened to be pointing in the direction of the pup? Those  guys are so insecure they see anything as a threat. ‘Shoot on sight’. Hah. That mentality will get them killed if they weren’t so damn hard to catch. 

But imagine the satisfaction when we finally managed to get our hands on one - a live one. The small one with the blonde hair, is probably about 5 '5 and built like a stick insect. (I’m practically six foot, well-built and can bench about 200lbs) 

They’d gotten sloppy - too egotistical. Their mums had probably told them they’re the best in the world and they ran with it. We cornered the rat in one of our warehouses, and he relented when he realized he wasn’t enough to beat over a dozen armed men when all he had on him was knives. What, is he just old enough to graduate from safety scissors? No guns? Fucking amateur. 

He didn’t go down without a fight, and it was quite a show, too. Bastard managed to nick my arm, but my brother managed to crack the back of his head with a pipe and he was out cold… Well, we assumed so anyway because of those damn masks -  If you hadn’t been living under a rock, then you’d know the pups have these masks practically glued to their face. They all have their own ‘looks’, the blonde one’s is molded into a frown with those soulless, black eyes. The reason we didn’t take it off there and then is because… well, last time someone did, everyone in the room went missing, and I don’t know about you guys but I’m quite comfortable here. We play a very dangerous game - luckily I’m always one step ahead. 

I’ve had six years to think about this - to wonder what It would be like to get one of them. My brother called me crazy, but I could hardly wait as they took his headpiece and tracker from his uniform. Look, I know it wasn’t the short one that killed my dad but he was close enough, but who wouldn't want to enact revenge on the closest thing to their fathers killer? Granted it wasn’t the short one that killed my dad, but it was close enough to send a message and I only had forty minutes before the fanfare arrived. So that gave me about thirty minutes to do whatever I wanted… 

I wasted no time in getting my hands dirty. Just seeing his stupid mask made me feel all kinds of stuff, but mostly rage at what one of his teammates had done to my life. I saw red. 

So I cut every limb deep enough to see bone. I broke several fingers, his leg, and carved him a new six pack after I’d rearranged his ribs. I ripped his clothes enough to see the pale flesh they hide beneath layers of tactical gear. I took his gloves so I could at least have a trophy - a reminder of the time I beat up a ‘Sin. 

I almost feel guilty for loving it, but I hated how he made no noise. He was conscious, I knew this because of the heavy breathing but he didn’t say a single word. Not one. Not even a whimper.

So I hit harder. And I kept on hitting until my knuckles bled because the smug bastard didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve to be silent, but I’m also not sure he deserved the beating. I know, what a plot twist. 

I guess I should explain the title now, because how do I know I just tortured my best friend? Well. I think I did. Because only one person I know has a very specific scar between his pointer and thumb - right in the fleshy part. It stretches across his palm as well as down the back of his hand towards the wrist. It’s barely visible now, but I’ve known him for years, so even beneath all the blood I can still trace the faint line. I’m so used to seeing his hands and the scar… and that mop of blond hair that I know it had to be him. He’s also the only person I know that bites his nails down to the cuticles. 

I saw the scar when I raised the bar I was using above his hand - he’d been strapped to a chair, with his arms tied to the armrests. His fingers were broken for sure, but at the time I wasn’t done… the irrational anger I had had blinded me, but the sight of the scar swung me back to my senses. I paused for a solid minute, the pipe I was using poised above his hand. 

“It’s broken.” He finally rasped. 

And I stopped. 

I stopped. Like, I physically recoiled because despite the fact that he was hiding behind that stupid mask he actually spoke. I could put a voice to a body and for some reason I felt so sick I nearly threw up because it was so unmistakably him. 

So I dragged his body back to the spot and left him. I had time to spare but I couldn’t face it. If it was him, then he must have known it was me. I mean, I was wearing a pretty good disguise - a hoodie, sunglasses and bandanna - but I’m worried y’know, I don’t want this to affect our friendship going forward. 

I’m sitting in my car typing this and wondering AITA for torturing him? Because it was just to teach him a lesson but on the other hand… he’s my best friend and I genuinely didn't know? Like, I stopped right away! On the other hand, he is part of something that actively ruins the family business so I don't know. 

UPDATE: He does know it was me. 

I think we’re still friends.