#but those teacups are fucking TINY

[thepurplewombat]

This also came today. Well, part of it anyway - the top room, I already had, but Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji now have their own room to moon at each other in. I'm sure we're all joining Lan Xichen and Jin Guangyao in breathing a sigh of relief.

[iplayghoul]

𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞

pairing:: onyankopon x reader

wc:: 2.6k

warnings:: umm starts off as soft sex, they get a lil crazy (my fault), tongue sucking, squirting, cunnilingus all that. nothing too crazy. using 'mama' and 'ma', reader has braids and acrylics.

note:: heyy.. how yall doin 😅 work below the cut.. dont beat my ass

“You remind me of the sun, ony’,” you mumble, cheek pressed against his bare bicep with your head resting soft against the picnic blanket as you look up at the night sky. He's like the sun to you. “mm, yeah What– does that mean, pretty?” His voice is deep… just above a whisper and in your peripheral vision you see him looking at you but your eyes are fixated on the stars above. “I dunno, your skin is always so warm when I feel cold but– I gravitate towards you all the time. Like all the other stars do. You exude something… mmph, what m’ I saying rightnow.” You fumble, chuckling lightly at your lack of words.

“do you believe in destiny? like ‘written in the stars’ n’ shit? Hm?” Onyankopon speaks up, you feel an emotion behind his tone you can't quite describe. It sounded like… uncertainty, insecurity. “Well, you know how my exes were… I'd like to think those were just unfortunate circumstances that I'm tryna grow from, baby. I don't wanna think the universe puts us through that on purpose… y'know?” You sit up, pretty little night dress falling down to cover your thighs. Your hands holding you up as you look around the night sky. The full moon tonight facilitated an impromptu shoving of a picnic blanket onto the balcony, warm glasses of chai tea emptied and hot in your bellies as you laid together to watch the moon.

Onyankopon rests his head with his hands behind his head, admiring you. He clears his throat, “I love you. Y'know that?”, “I do know that, you know I love you too?” You look at him over your shoulder before turning over and pressing your palms onto his stomach, he groans in faux pain. “Mhm,” He purrs, sitting up to clasp your hands in his own, tugging you onto his lap. “I know that, mama,” the moon was so bright. It illuminated the darkness around you both on the balcony and glimmered in his eyes. You stare. His moistened lips glistening in the light, you scoot closer to him. Chest pressed against your breasts and he sits handsomely, basking in your gaze and touch. Pretty white french tip acrylic nails with bow decor caresses his neck, scratching the back his neck and playing with his ears. Ony’ shivers lightly.

“Why you touchin’ on me like that, hm?” He bites back a smile when u tug at his earlobe. “Gimme a kiss,” You murmur, lips sealed by the clasp of his against yours. He pecks your lips several more times, Onyankopon really liked the texture of your lip gloss on his lips. Hands drag down his chest, following the tiny lines of his wife-beater: twirling the drawstring of his sweats.

“Do you wanna–”

“No,” Your eyes meet his, and Ony’ watches you as kind as ever, with his stupid handsome face. “No, baby,” He kisses his teeth, “Not g'na fuck you out here. Not on the balcony,” his cheeks deepen with dimples as he offers you a low chuckle.

“‘M not asking you to fuck me.” You roll your eyes teasingly,”And what's wrong with out here . . . we got blankets and pillows, s'comfy baby,” He's offered a sweet smile, the lavender rubber bands on your braces reminded him of the colours of the night, so he looks up at the sky.

The moon colours dusted blue and purple hues onto the clouds that bordered it. Reflecting and sparkling in your eyes and your face. Shit . . .

“What I'm asking, is that you make love to me, Ony’,” You whisper, resting your head in his neck. Onyankopon sucks a deep breath in between his teeth. “Grab some f'them pillows.” He uttered.

Ony’ scoots forward, shamelessly staring at your ass as you bunched up the pillows scattered across the balcony and stuffing them behind where he previously sat, blankets included and teacups pushed far aside. “Lay back right there,” , “Mkay . . . ,” You whisper, eyes flickering to his position while he only eyes you, fixing your braids behind your ears and tucking yourself comfortably back into the mound of pillows and blankets. “Mhm, pull it up,” Onyankopon turned to you and gave your night dress a light tug, eyes still focused everywhere else but your own.

You shuffled, clutching the little thing up above your hips, pretty panties scrunched up between your legs . . . you wore some random ones with rainbows on it. “Take it off, ma’,” Onyankopon ordered, his mouth muffled by the hand on his chin, finger pressing into his lips while he watched you. Gingerly, you hook your acrylics beneath the band slipping the panties off. Flustered, your legs remained snapped shut, though your puffy cunt still pushed itself out, feeling tickled and tingly at the touch of the cold air. It was the type of wind that blew before a cozy storm. And you nibble on your bottom lip. Ony’ grabs your knees, prying them apart. He watched how the moonshine glistened against your pussy.

He pushed your legs back ‘till your knees brushed the blankets behind you, “Ony’ don't stare,” a grumble escaped you, body warm. He hummed. Leaning down, Ony’ spread your pussy further with his thumbs before offering your clit a kiss. You gasp softly, expecting the upcoming stimulation anxiously, wishing he could just skip this part n’ pull his dick out. You drop your head back into the pillows, eyes to the stars and moon when you feel Onyankopon's tongue swirl over your hole before dipping in gently. He likes to take his time. He does this a few more times and you whine, eyes falling shut when you feel him drag his tongue over your clit. Then, he's going in; he's licking up n’ down your cunt, sucking your clit into his mouth n’ tugging it to let it snap back into your pussy. You moan freely, thick into the air. The clouds above moved with the wind and suddenly the moon sent glows onto your face, so much so that you opened your teary eyes to see what was so bright on your face.

Onyankopon groans vibrations into your pussy when he sees your face, overcome with pleasure under the moonshine. He dips his face into you, licking circles about your cunt, kissing and suckling, and spitting, and slipping his tongue deep in you. “Ony’, Ony’ c'mon,” You whine, hands dancing behind his neck, pushing his face deeper into your cunt when you feel your clit throb hard. He makes circles around your clit, kissing it and once sucking it into his mouth. “Right there, right there,” You ache when he tilts his head and tongues a spot of your clit and you start grinding your body into his face. He thinks he might suffocate in the best way possible. Little glossy pearls of tears glide down the sides of your cheeks and tickle your ear. Head pressing back into the pillows when the rest of your body arches forward to Ony's mouth. You spread your legs so wide and they stiffened, all you feel is his tongue around your clit now pushing out undisturbed by your folds and you grab your braids tight. He stuffs two fingers inside you while maintaining his motions on your clit, sloppily fucking them into you, twisting them with each stroke and you think your ears are actually ringing. With it, you let out a sob and squeal, “Fuck! Fuck, oh-my-god, Ony–,” then it was silence, “Breath, mama, breathe,” Ony groaned, and suddenly you were gasping for air, cumming hard.

Your lips were quivering, feeling somewhat numb while Ony’ offered you some slow calming strokes with his fingers as you mellowed down. “Shit, you still want s’m cock after that?” He gave your clit a final kiss, seeing your bleary eyes as you sniffle and sigh. Your legs ached when you tried to move, closing them slowly. “Gimme a minute,” you pout and flop your head back down into the pillows, collecting yourself a bit, eyes blinking wearily. “S’ sensitive, m’ sorry,” Ony’ only re-fluffs some of the blankets and pillows that were now pushed askew, lifting your lower body by your legs while he pushed them back beneath you.

“Chill out,” He whispered, shifting to lay beside you and look at the sky. “S’ finna rain soon,” He announced,”Mhm, yeah,” You push your legs out, throwing your arms above you for a big stretch, squeezing your thighs tight to block your exposed pussy from the cold air. “Want head?” you peep at Ony’ who rests his hands behind his head. He shakes his head ‘no’ and stretches. You observe him and openly stare at his hard dick printing out of his sweats. Leaning forward, you rub, ever so gently, along the shaft while he watched you.

“‘Kay, get over right here,” Ony’ sat up moving from his spot, gesturing for you to situate yourself there with a quickness and brushing your hand off him. You huff, teasing, and pull your night dress back down as you crawl on your hands and knees to the pillows. Lay on your back and braids adjusted, Ony grabs your night dress, tugging it back up your body and kissing his teeth. “Keep playin’,” He gives your ass a playful smack and you giggle.

Grabbing your ankles, Onyankopon pushes your legs all the way back. What you'd like to call, ‘knee headphones’ the way they were in line with your ears. Some traces of creamy white release cooled under the air, clit puffing out and hole aching to be stimulated again. Ony’ adjusts himself above you, leaning close and tugging his sweats down, letting his pretty, dark dick fall out and slap your thigh. Fuck, you might cry. Little beads of pre-cum dripped from the tip, he was already girthy, yet his cock got thicker and meatier towards the center of the shaft. “Y'gonna go slow?” Ony lines up, pressing his tip into you and smiles,”Yea, mama, i’mma go slow,” He sinks and drawls out a long, ”Fuck.”

His heavy hand grips your thighs, pressing you down into the pillows. Onyankopon adjusts himself over you, letting his weight hold you down while he all but throbs in you. Legs now thrown over his shoulders and dark brown eyes staring deep into your own, fighting your weighted eyelids. “Bet’ not run, ma',” Onyankopon observes your face, licking his lips and giving you a quick peck, he resists indulging you when you pout and instead kisses about your damp cheeks and neck. “Oh-my-god,” you squeal when he begins to lift his hips out of you.

Onyankopon's hands cage your head, and the closeness leaves you nowhere to grab; thus your hands are left to mindlessly flop back onto the pillows. Nice and easy . . . proper n’ slow, he begins to rock his hips into you, “Why you suckin’ me in like that, mama?” He groans low. Ony’ let's his forehead rest on yours while the tip of his dick nudges the spongy mound inside you. “Ony’ your fuckin’ dick,” you whimper, “W’ssup wit’ it, huh?”, Onyankopon pressed his lips to yours in a wet kiss, grinning when he sees your pretty little eyes welling with tears. “Deeper–,” a sniffle, “Want it– deeper, shiiiit,” And he gives you just that, digging his fat dick deeper with each antagonizing stroke. Your cleavage bounces beneath your chin with each thwack of his hips into yours, tits having been firmly mushed into Ony's chest and you feel like you're gaping. Thighs burning n’ cunt stretching as he slowly builds the well in your tummy to milk you. “Mhm, watchu’ wanted?” You only groan and bite your lips, eyes screwed shut as you lay limp on the pillows getting fucked. Onyankopon gives your cheek a few slaps, “Answer me ‘fore I stop, don't play,” You force your eyes open and see Ony's eyes locked on yours. Brows furrowed and mouth ajar, that pussy felt fuckin’ good. “Yea, s’ what I wanted– daddy, fuck,” You let out a bratty sob when sloppily fucks into you faster before slowing again.

“Stick y'tongue out,” Onyankopon hums lowly, and you're not sure if you can focus on anything besides the smack of his hips and the squelching coming from his cock. You still comply, tongue lolling out from your mouth with heavy breathes. Ony’s dick throbs inside you, and he slurps your tongue into his mouth, suckling on it before locking your lips to his, tongue massaging yours. “Takin’ that fuckin’ dick, mhm,” His lips glide over your cheeks, fucking into you with fervor. He mumbles a chant of, “Shit, shit, shit,” pummeling you with his cock, reaching depths in your cunt you hadn't even discovered before. Ony’ seemed determined on knocking the fucking wind out of you and stuffing your swollen, little pussy full of dick. “Oh–,” wails escaping your lips, “Ohmygod unh, f– daddy, fuck,” you continue to mewl.

Your hands frantically grasp any and everything, your braids, Onyankopon's back, your ankles, the pillows; entire body gyrating as he fucks you. Onyankopon tongues your neck, licking about your ear, kissing your cheek. Your cunt feels sticky, s’ sloppy and warm and your entire body feels hot all over. Your eyes roll back and he's got you so trapped under him getting pounded that you can't even arch up into him. Cunt remaining spread at just the right angle and makes your legs quiver. Onyankopon let's out a tight groan and you feel the curve of his cock digging you hard. “G'nna make me fuckin’ cum. Squeezin’ on me like that, mama.” His sharp words muttered right into the shell of your ear making you clench hard. “Mu'fuckin’, sloppy pussy,” He lifts off you and pushes your legs above your head, crossing your ankles as he holds them together for leverage.

“N– Oh, no,no,no, Onya–!” you uttered out with gasps at the new angle. “Take it, take it, take it,” Ony’ murmured. Just like that, warmth squirted out of your cunt, dripping down his abdominals and pooling right between you where the hilt of his cock slapped into your folds as he kept drilling himself into you. “Mmmmph,” You can't help but cry and moan, cheeks feeling a bit warm with embarrassment yet it's overcome by the exponential throbbing of your clit. Your hand started tapping the pillows, shaking as you tried to tap out of whatever Ony’ was serving you right now. “C'mon,” He whispered, “I gotchu’.” It's like he senses it, thumbing your clit lightly.

“Need it! Need– it, daddy, shit,” You peer up at him.

“I know you do, baby, give it to me,” His commands echoes in your head, over and over. You're gasping, body jiggling off the pillows and slapping back up into his, “‘M . . . fuck, daddy,” sobbing and failing at formulating your words.

“‘M cumming, I'm cumming, oh my god.”

Your hips stiffen up and with each pelting thrust Ony’ cussed above you; a harsh wind blows and you think the coldness against your hot body makes you gush all over his cock while he cums alot. You blink the tears out of your eyes when Onyankopon fucks your cum mixture back into you a couple more times, before pulling out quick to avoid you being too sore and pained for him to move then plopping beside you on the pillows. Your legs fall carelessly below and all you hear besides silence are his harsh breaths and his deep voice asking you something you can't yet register, your clits throbbing too hard.

The moon really did look pretty tonight. Onyankopon does remind you of the sun. Shit, you felt like you were sitting among the fuckin’ stars.

[blooberrries]

『monday misery』 — yuji

— pairing: yuji x reader — genre: college/university au, slight crack — wc: 1.7k — rated: sfw — notes: when inspiration strikes you gotta follow it ya know. this cracked me up more than it probably should have

prompt: I don't know why you've got a ferret on a leash but at least I've stopped crying on public transportation to watch that lil guy go

The tears are still damp on your cheeks, another set budding and ready to go, when you see it. Something small, something wriggly, something wormy.

Something that has absolutely no business being on the 8AM train into the city central.

Just moments ago it felt like the world could come to a crumbling end around you, and you’d embrace it all while sitting there and doing nothing but emptying your tear ducts of every single drop of moisture they could spare. You literally could not imagine a single event that would have stopped your exhaustion and assignment deadline-fueled weeping. You wouldn’t have been surprised if you just kept on crying, forever. The future was bleak and not set to look up anytime soon with an 8.30AM lecture looming on the horizon.

But this… this is a variable you never could have predicted.

The sheer lunacy of it has stopped your tears in their tracks, and now you’re watching the poor guy sitting across from you like he’s an animal in a zoo. He has noticed, and it has made him sweat. A large hand comes to scratch the back of his neck, fingers ruffling the two-toned hair. The cherry-blossom mop atop his head really only adds to the comedy of what you’re witnessing.

Something is worming around under this man’s clothes. Which, you have to admit, does sound like a poor excuse to be drilling holes into him right now with your eyes – but that’s not it! You saw something poke out earlier. Something furry, with beady eyes and such rapid twitching head movements you’d swear the thing was on crack.

It’s a fucking ferret.

The worst part is, no one else around you has even noticed! Or maybe they don’t care. Truthfully, they seem to be giving this guy a wide berth— and you for that matter, being across from him and all that. Or maybe it was the silent weeping and looking out the window like you’re in your own early 2000s music video. There’s no way to know.

To his credit, cherry guy looks embarrassed. Good. You don’t want him thinking it’s anything normal to tote around a ferret in the quiet carriage, like some noodle-shaped teacup dog. The only way he could get away with it is if he at least had one of those exorbitant handbags he was keeping it in. Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem like any vessel on this green earth, luxury or otherwise, could keep this tiny demon contained.

Your eyes burn in the aftermath of your sleep deprivation and crying spell as you watch the man try and push the ferret’s head back into hiding, and the little mongrel, without even a split-second of hesitation, chomps down on the closest finger. Cherry guy whimpers, eyes slipping closed in something akin to defeat and resignation.

At this point you’re beginning to feel that he didn’t bring the ferret, but instead the ferret brought him.

A few minutes is what it takes for cherry guy to gather the strewn shreds of his pride. When he opens his eyes next, their chocolate hues meet your own. He leans forward a little, as much as he can without the hell noodle slipping loose from his cotton prison, and whispers ever so softly across the space.

“His name is Mahito.”

You frown, and can physically feel your eyebrows scrunching together like it was a crime they had ever been apart. “What, like the drink?”

Apparently you hadn’t asked that as quietly as you’d thought, because you get shushed by someone three seats down right after. Wait– three seats? There’s no way they’ve all moved even further away.

Cherry guy looks like he is seriously contemplating the question, and you wonder if the ferret is even his or just some poor animal he snatched off the streets. “… No. Probably… not.”

You stare at him, sniffling. Your face is almost entirely dry now, skin feeling tight instead of damp. “Uh-huh.”

Steadily, the man’s face begins to flush as mortification warms his sun-kissed skin. Silence beats painfully on between you. Eventually, you break it.

“So, uh. You do this often? Carry around a ferret in your shirt?”

The flush spreads to cherry guy’s ears. “Um, no. That would be weird.”

You incline your head, lips pressed firmly together so you don’t let a laugh slip and make him feel worse. “Indeed.”

“He’s not mine,” he blurts suddenly, and like the ferret has a flourishing vocabulary and outstanding comprehension of the human language, he rips out of the bottom of cherry guy’s shirt and sinks his teeth into the flesh between his thumb and forefinger in retribution. You wince, and the poor man has to cram his fist to his mouth at the speed of light to muffle the slew of profanity that begins to escape.

A few moments full of deep, meditative breathing later, he lowers his fist and scowls at the ferret that is only now removing his jaw from the tender flesh of his hand. He hisses lowly, shaking out his hand. “You little rat bastard. Just you wait till we get home and Sukuna finds out you snuck into my backpack again. You’re gonna get sent to macaroni prison for sure.”

You raise your brows. Ah, so that’s what must have happened. That actually explains a lot. You can’t help your smile now. “What a darling little angel.”

Cherry guy’s head snaps up to shoot you an incredulous– nay, borderline affronted look. “He’s awful, truly. Actual hellspawn. I have to buy a new gaming headset every other week because the little monster chews through the cords so often. I tried keeping my door locked while I was out but the little bastard just turns his body to liquid or something and worms his way under.”

A strangled sound escapes you when you barely manage to lock down your laugh in time. Cherry guy continues, apparently needing to vent about the foot-long menace more than he’d anticipated.

“My brother actually already replaced his door with one that doesn’t have a big gap at the bottom, but he keeps refusing to do it for mine every time I ask because he thinks it’s funny that his little agent of rat chaos eats through half my stuff on the daily.” He huffs, glaring at the wriggling noodle that he has now trapped in his hold. An older woman gives a very strongly disapproving look from four seats down before returning to her killer sudoku. “I have not known peace since he has entered the house.”

You wince, feeling a little sympathetic. “Damn. How long has your brother had him?”

You expect it to be an awful long time, based on how burdened this man seems to be by the mere existence of this ferret. His answer makes you physically bite down your reaction, your entire body tensing from the effort.

“Uh, a month or two.”

Yikes. You’re scared to think of what the rodent might do once he’s actually settled in.

Silence settles between the two of you once more, broken the chime of the conductor’s voice echoing over the speakers as you come one stop closer to the city. A few people disembark, including the lady that gave the stink eye earlier. She does it again as she steps off, and cherry guy shrinks into his seat. The doors close, and once more silence falls, though more comfortable than the first time.

A while later, the man shifts, a complete contradiction to the tornado of movement that the creature in his hand is doing. The noises escaping the little thing are hard to ignore, and even harder to keep a straight face at.

“What, uh… what were you crying about?”

You blink at him as your gaze returns from the window. You’d actually forgotten you were crying earlier, which is pretty funny considering at the time you were acting like the world was about to end for a solid fifteen minutes at least.

“Oh,” you say. It’s your turn to flush a bit in embarrassment. “Uni assignment, due today. There was a spillage and, um, that doesn’t tend to bode well for artwork on paper.”

Cherry guy winces. “My condolences.”

You nod, allowing a moment of silence for the work of art your assignment could have been, before speaking again. “Thanks… and, well, that’s one good deed your little hellspawn has done. Seeing him wriggling around under there like he was about to burst from your chest definitely distracted me from my existential crisis.”

Cherry guy hums, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Okay. I guess I’ll put in a good word for him when we get home.”

You smile, whatever you were about to say next interrupted by the chime of the conductor announcing your next stop to be the destination you need to get to campus. Out of habit, you gather your things and stand, before pausing and turning your gaze to the pink-haired man still seated and wrangling a chaos being with the viscosity of YouTube slime. After having another look at him, it’s clear he’s a fellow university student. You’re guessing he was on his way to his classes when he discovered the stowaway in his bag. No doubt he now has to head back home and drop the ferret off before doubling back for his own classes.

You have a lecture at 8.30AM, but to be honest… you don’t want to spend the rest of the day miserable and mourning your assignment from the get-go. Talking with this random guy about his ratchet ferret has completely cancelled out your earlier feelings of angst, and it’s… nice. You kind of want to return the favour and help distract him from his misery.

The doors begin to shut, and the pink-haired man looks up in alarm as he notices you’re still here. “Wait, won’t you–“

“Yeah,” you say, swivelling on the spot and plopping down right next to him. You turn your head with a smile. “But that’s okay. Gotta look after my mental health and all, you know?”

He blinks at you for a second, before a warm smile breaks onto his face. He’s handsome, you notice from this close up. Almost painfully so.

“Yuji,” he says, by way of introduction. You return with your own name, and he beams wider. “Wanna hear about the time Mahito got into a fight with my brother’s other ferret Jogo?”

“Absolutely.”

[kragehund-est]

sometimes i relate to those little teacup chihuahuas, the ones that are born fucked up and people aggravate them because they think it's funny. everyone thinks im sooo tiny and my signs of annoyance are sooo hilarious. then they push a little too far and i'm just some "gross little demon rat". sorry im not cute anymore, you aggravated me to the point all my nerves are permanently frayed.

[oddmawd]

THE SIGHT UNSEEN - Chapter 24: "Rei's Nine Lives of Conversation Avoidance"

SUMMARY: Yamato Rei pays the bills by telling fake fortunes to unwitting suckers... or so she thinks. Turns out half her customers are demons and her lying ass has been predicting the future with uncanny accuracy for years. On account of her growing reputation, Rei just landed on the radar of the same demon who murdered her aunt, and her only hope of survival is a mirror haunted by the ghost of an ancient warrior queen, her burgeoning psychic powers, and a certain Spirit Detective and his friends. Specifically the pretty one with red hair who seems to see right through her... Kurama is as mysterious as he is beautiful, and when Rei must stay at Genkai’s temple for protection on the eve of Yusuke and Keiko’s wedding, she finds herself growing closer and closer to the one man who’s sworn to keep everyone at arm’s length. But both Kurama and Rei hide behind high walls of their own creation, and it’ll take more than their eventual friends-with-benefits arrangement to see those walls come crumbling down — provided the demons hunting Rei don’t tear her limb from limb, first.

TAGS & CONTENT WARNINGS

PAIRINGS: Kurama/OC, Yusuke/Keiko

RATING:  E(xplicit) (MDNI, 18+) (but this chapter is T+)

WORD COUNT: 12.3k for chapter 24

GENRE: Supernatural Romance

FANDOM: Yu Yu Hakusho

TAGS: Opposite of a slow burn, friends with benefits, mutual pining until it explodes, mystery, being stalked by demons, fortune telling, supernatural powers, inheritance, hair loss (main character has alopecia and is mostly bald), insecurity, family trauma, found family, new friends, weddings, 

WARNINGS: N/A for chapter 24

This fic is exclusively hosted on Archive of Our Own

CHAPTER 24: "Rei's Nine Lives of Conversation Avoidance" - Excerpt

As soon as Rei ascertained with (somewhat relative) certainty Kurama would no longer be able to see her bright red face, Rei covered her face with her hands and screamed.

Well, sort of. She kind of mimed screaming, if that makes sense, with lots of air rushing up her windpipe and her face contorting into an impressive mimicry of Edvard Munch’s most iconic work, and she was only just a fraction louder than that particular work of art. She whisper-screamed into the void and staggered haphazardly around the unfortunate stretch of porch that bore witness to her dramatics, throwing herself at railings and support poles and sliding down them until she lay in a heap upon the floor. Then, as a bamboo deer scare popped nearby, she rolled around a bit, face still buried in her hands, dragging her fingers down her cheeks as she held back screeches of embarrassment, mortification, and shock at her own goddamn audacity.

Because holy fucking shit, gang — Rei was a bad bitch of the highest order with confidence to spare and an ass that just won’t quit, but propositioning Kurama to his face was bold even by her standards. She was long past her fun party-girl phase and hadn’t been so forward with a potential sexual partner in years. She was pursuing a master’s degree in library sciences, for fuck’s sake! What the hell had gotten into her?

Rei was a confident person, sure. She’d taken her clothes off in front of a crowd, danced in a tiny dress in front of judges without breaking a sweat, and worn a wig in a windstorm for a photo shoot, but even she wasn’t usually that brazen with an overture. She’d all but crafted an engraved invitation beckoning Kurama to waltz his (very fine) ass right back into her bed!

But then again, it was easy to be confident when you had a cheat code. A little inside scoop, if you will. Because a certain very interesting prophetic dream glimpsed in the bottom of Rei's teacup still hadn’t come true. That future moment hadn’t happened yet, and that meant…

Still lying prone upon the porch, Rei shivered. Things were not over between the two of them, she was sure of it.

Eventually she managed to scrape herself off the floor and head indoors. Sooner was better than later for floor-scraping, Rei thought. After all, Kurama had indicated he would follow her inside for a cup of coffee (a literal one, not the metaphorical cup one might use to lure a hookup to your apartment for the evening, but Rei digressed as she was wont to do when held in the grip of slutty panic). Seeing her rolling around like a cat who’d gotten into the nip stash would probably kill any chances she had with the reserved man, anyway. As it stood, despite her inside scoop leading the way, she wasn’t entirely sure if he’d ever want to speak to her again — not with the level of intimacy they’d been sharing up until that point, at least. He’d probably back off a bit now that so many lines had been crossed. Or maybe “playing it cool” meant he’d never speak to her again for as long as they lived.

Either way, she’d follow his lead. That much she could handle.

And in what was perhaps a bit of cosmic foreshadowing, Himiko had given Rei the silent treatment. After tucking Kurama in for the night, she’d worried the old queen would give her an earful as soon as her head hit the pillow, but nope. Himiko had remained as silent as the grave she had avoided by sealing herself into that ancient mirror. No dream visits had occurred, not even to scold Rei for co-sleeping with the fox demon Himiko loved warning her about. That seemed like a prime moment for a great-great-great-great-grandmotherly lecture. Rei wasn’t entirely sure what the unexpected silence might bode in its stead.

Dreams untroubled, Rei had awoken that morning to find Kurama sleeping soundly at her side. Bastard was pretty even with his hair rumpled and teeth unbrushed, clothes hanging off his toned chest like a model carefully staged to look both elegant and disheveled in the early morning light. God, Kurama was in way better shape than Rei had expected him to be. He had a dancer’s body, by Rei's estimations: lithe and strong with muscles easily hidden beneath tailored slacks and collared shirts. But with his shirt unbuttoned and tits out, so to speak (scratches from her nails still trailing down to his taut abs, she noted), he was positively delicious. It had taken quite a bit of willpower to not wake him then and there and discover how down to clown he was without alcohol flooding his system. Instead she’d left him in her bed and gone to bathe, scrubbing herself from top to bottom with some of the fancy, strongly scented soap Botan had brought with her to the shrine. No telling how good demons’ senses of smell were. She knew Kurama would want privacy, and she had done her best to accommodate his expected anxieties by stripping the lingering scent of roses and earth from her skin.

How she’d kept a straight face in front of Hokushin when she ran into him in the hall just afterward was beyond her. He’d come storming through just as she exited the onsen, the demon clearly panicked about something, and his eyes had bugged when he saw her coming. In his fist he carried an empty bottle of sake — the exact same bottle a furtive Yusuke had asked Keiko to put away somewhere the night before. Rei had gone with Keiko at the time, and they’d placed it on a table with the other liquor. Neither had thought much of it in the moment, but now, seeing the look on Hokushin’s face…

“Yamato-san.” He held the bottle out, beady eyes intent on her face. “Did you see who drank this?”

“Drank…?” She blinked at him innocently, quick mind was already doing some rather unfortunate math. “No, sorry. Was it important?”

While he babbled about precious wedding-night gifts and unbreakable Alaric consummation traditions and mildly aphrodisiacal wines, she’d crunched the appropriate numbers and realized exactly what Kurama must have been sipping on all evening. But while she felt bad for Hokushin, who was even balder than she was and therefore an automatic friend to Rei, she hadn’t told him she suspected Kurama had imbibed the dubious wedding present. Instead she’d directed him toward Chu, wherever he was, in a classic misdirect toward the insatiable drunk.

“Chu?” Hokushin’s brow furrowed. “He prefers his ogre-killer.”

“True,” said Rei sagely, “but he was coming onto me all night, and if that liquor has the effect you claim it does…”

Hook, line, sinker. Hokushin had taken the bait and stormed off with gutting Chu like a fish on his mind, and Rei — feeling accomplished at her subterfuge, and mildly vengeful toward Chu after the evening prior — had gone to the kitchen to make coffee. That’s where Kurama had found her, and then he’d pulled her into the woods, and then she’d propositioned him because oh god oh god oh god, she’d lost her damned mind! 

But dwelling on her lapses in sanity wouldn’t do anyone any good, least of all Rei, so right back into the kitchen she went. She’d made allusions of breakfast to Kurama, after all, and she wasn’t the type to go back on a promise.

This time, however, she found the kitchen occupied by Keiko, who stood over the brewing coffee pot with eyes like a sleepy hawk’s. Botan yawned behind her at the kitchen table, looking in similar need of caffeine. Sleepy though she appeared, Keiko glanced at Rei askance, eyes roving over her in an assessing sweep.

But it was Botan who spoke, smile drowsy and soft. “You’re up awfully early, Yamato.”

Rei laughed as she slipped into the chair beside Botan. “Back atcha.”

Keiko nodded at the coffee maker. “You put the pot on?”

“Yeah.”

“Bless you.” Keiko sighed, relieved. “I need it.”

“Up late?”

“Yes.” Keiko fought back a yawn. “But I’ve got too much to do to be sleeping in.”

“You should let Yusuke know,” Rei said with a slow smile of her own, “before he drags you off for another midnight garden makeout session.”

Keiko gasped. “You saw that!?”

“A good Fixer has eyes and ears everywhere.”

While Keiko grumbled about Yusuke keeping his hands to himself, flushing a pretty shade of pink all the while, Rei busied herself prepping breakfast and pretending she hadn't just intentionally deflected the conversation away from whatever the hell she had been up to last night. Far better to embarrass Keiko into changing the subject herself than have her ask the reciprocal question of “Gee Rei, what did you get up to everyone else was sleeping? Fuck any foxes?” And with Botan sitting right there, this was a question Rei simply could not tolerate. Yes, yes, shift the narrative, Keiko…no one will suspect a thing…

And the tactic appeared to work, because Keiko immediately looked away, cleared her throat, and launched into a monologue. “Anyway. I have a lot of my plate today,” she said, looking anywhere but at Rei. “Mostly just making sure the logistics are in order. Flowers on time, the cake delivery, and of course the guests, more decor…” She stopped counting on her fingers when the dulcet sounds of ‘Fur Elise’ began to play from her pocket on tiny speakers. “Oh, speak of the devil, that’s probably the wedding band. Give me a second…”

Leave it to Keiko to have such a classy ring-tone, Rei thought to herself. She watched with a satisfied (dare I say it, smug) smile as Keiko left the kitchen. The bride-to-be looked quite grateful to have somewhere else to be if Rei was judging the sheepish look on her face accurately…

But Rei had lightly miscalculated the situation, because Botan was definitely still in the kitchen and absolutely gearing up to ask a question of her own, if the serious expression she aimed in Rei’s direction were any indication. Luckily the grim reaper had other things on her mind and asked an innocuous question; privately, Rei’s nerves deflated somewhat.

“Say, Yamato. Keiko and I were talking, and we were wondering — what do you plan to wear to the wedding?” Botan spoke with a degree of hesitation Rei didn't quite understand, as if worried about causing offense. “You packed in an awful hurry, and you didn’t get much warning that you’d be attending a wedding of all things…

Oh, so that was it. “Don’t worry,” Rei said. “I came prepared.”

Botan looked surprised (and Rei felt nearly offended after all). “You did? Really?”

“My friend,” said Rei with grave solemnity, “|I don’t travel anywhere without at least two evening looks in tow.”

“Wait, seriously?”

“Oh yeah.” She had to suppress a laugh; to someone like Rei, the alternative was positively absurd. “Former ballroom dancer, hardcore girl’s girl — I have never traveled light in my entire life, and no amount of homicidal, eyeball-eating demons could hope to cramp my style.” But because Botan still looked adorably skeptical, Rei explained, “I brought three full sized suitcases on this little venture, if that tells you anything. At least two dresses in them ought to work for the wedding. I could even do an outfit change for the reception.”

The I-don’t-want-to-offend-you expression was back in full force. “Keiko will want to see the looks, if you don’t mind. Is that all right?”

“What, it’s not a color-coded dress code or something, is it?”

“No, she’s not that fussy.” Botan hesitated a moment. “But she does want to make a good impression on the demonic dignitaries.” Her eyes dropped, nervous. “So…”

Ah. So that was it. When it came to event attendance, Botan and Keiko had only seen Rei in some of her more egregious outfits: the men's-suit-with-no-shirt-on-underneath-and-a-neon-party-wig ensemble she had worn to the bachelor party, and her truly unfortunate Eastern European fortune teller get-up from the first night they’d all met, neither of which was sure to inspire much confidence in Rei’s ability to dress herself for a formal wedding. But Rei wasn't offended that Botan and Keiko wondered if she had packed wedding-appropriate attire before their madcap rush to reach the temple. Rei had been running around in spandex workout gear while training with Genkai, too, which was also the opposite of good wedding attire. Hell if Rei would ever begrudge a bride for caring about the appearance of her guests, especially if some of them were dignitaries from another dimension.

Another dimension. Jesus tap-dancing Christ. Rei would never get used to that.

“Oh, don't worry,” said Rei. “I have just put the doctor ordered. Or just what the wedding planner ordered. Whatever whoever is in charge ordered, I have, so — ”

The kitchen door burst open. Keiko stormed inside. She paced over to the stove and swiped up a coffee cup before snatching the coffee pot from its cradle. The coffee was still dripping from the filter, but she didn't appear to care, letting precious drops of it spill all over the overflow tray in her haste to get caffeine in her system. As soon as she could, she tossed back a shot with a grimace, face red, but probably not just because she had downed a scalding mouthful of coffee.

Call it a hunch, but when Keiko exclaimed “Oh, this is terrible!” with the expression of a person who’d just slipped and fallen in cow manure, Rei got a feeling her prediction was right on the money.

“Are you OK, Keiko?” Botan said. “Whatever is the matter?”

Keiko’s eyes flashed wild. “The band just canceled!”

“What?!”

“The band, the wedding band — they canceled!” Keiko threw up her hands, coffee sloshing over her bare wrist. She cursed and said, “They just played some festival and they all came down with the flu. The singer could barely even talk on the phone, he was so sick.”

Botan put a hand to her cheek “That’s terrible!”

“The wedding is the day after tomorrow.” Keiko moaned, cradling her singed wrist. “What am I going to do?”

“He didn’t have a replacement for you?” Rei asked with a frown.

“No. Should he have?”

“Most bands have friends in the community they can call if something like this happens." She had worked with enough of them in her day to know that much for sure. “And most contracts have a cancellation clause, too.”

“Well, he didn’t mention it, and I don’t remember what the contract said.” Keiko wrenched out her phone, fingers tapping franticly at the screen. “Do I have a copy handy? Oh, what am I going to do?”

“Could we call Koto, Juri and Ruka?” Botan asked. “They’re attending the wedding, so maybe their contacts — "

“Wait.” Rei stared at Botan in rapidly mounting shock. “Not that Koto, Juri and Ruka, right?”

The Demon Trio — an idol group that had debuted some years prior and reached meteoric heights in the Japanese entertainment world, whose fame and notoriety soon went international, cementing them as bonafide superstars all over the world. Their whole schtick was that they wore fake ears and tails (Juri and Koto) and did magic on stage as part of their act (Ruka), staying strictly in-character as supernatural beings while singing, dancing, and performing their very pretty asses off. Hell, their first album was called ‘Sirens,’ and it goes without saying they’d leaned into the gimmick whole hog.

At least, Rei had assumed it was all a gimmick. Like the rest of the world, Rei had chalked up their anatomical accoutrement to some kind of bizarre costuming choice. But with everything Rei had learned about the world (or worlds, to be more precise) over the past few days, she got the sense the Demon Trio’s little act may not have been an ‘act’ at all.

And like a guillotine coming down to sever Rei’s perception at the neck, Botan looked at her, sighed, and admitted: “Yes, that Koto, Juri and Ruka.”

“Oh my god,” said Rei.

“They’re old friends of ours,” said Keiko.

“Oh my god.”

“And they’re an instrumental part of the integration of demons into the world of humans,” added Botan.

“Oh my god!”

Botan smiled sympathetically at Rei, who had begun staring at the wall with the expression of a particularly stressed-out lobotomy patient. “You doing OK there, Yamato?”

“Oh, y’know. Just recalibrating my view of society and reality at large. Again.” Rei draped her arm over her eyes, head tipping backward over the back of her chair. “Every day at Genkai’s shrine is a new revelation for me, ya boy.”

Keiko hummed under her breath. “That’s not a bad idea to reach out to them, though. They have to know someone, right? At least a DJ…” She let out a groan. “And the band was supposed to play the wedding march!”

Keiko left the room in a hurry to make the call, Botan looking appropriately horrified on her behalf. Rei felt terrible for her too, of course. The wedding was the day after tomorrow, and here they were without a band for the reception. Sure, Rei could offer to DJ the party with her phone hooked up to a speaker (she certainly had an extensive enough music library for the job), but that was hardly the same thing as having a live band. Certainly less impressive, and it lacked the ambiance Keiko no doubt wanted to provide her royal guests. This was, without a doubt, an absolutely awful turn of events…

A pang of guilt speared her, cold and cutting. She squashed it down, though, ignoring the nagging voice in the back of her head as it struggled to be heard — and either Botan had eats like a bat or was a little psychic herself, because she looked at Rei and brought up the exact damn thing Rei was trying very hard not to think about. Rei often thought of herself as a cat with nine lives, but it seemed she’d used up all her subject-avoidance chances for the day in her earlier preemptive deflection with Keiko. Fuck.

“Well, Fixer.” Botan’s magenta eyes opened wide and plaintive. “Any ideas Keiko knows the Demon Trio, but you know some entertainers of your own, don’t you? Maybe your burlesque friends have connections we could leverage?”

“Yeah.” Rei swallowed, studying her coffee cup. “Maybe.”

But ‘maybe’ was a damn lie, because Rei did have connections she could leverage. One in particular she had no doubt would come through for her in a flash, in fact. In spite of that certainty and her loyalty to Keiko both screaming at her to make the call, Rei did not get her phone out of her pocket. Instead she waited, sipping her coffee in silence while Botan fretted, until Keiko returned to the kitchen looking equal parts panicked and morose.

“Koto and the others are so busy, I can’t get a hold of them,” she said, slumping into a seat and putting her forehead on the table. “Their manager couldn’t even get them on the phone.”

“Oh no!” Botan turned to Rei again, looking more plaintive than ever. “Yamato? You said you maybe had something?”

Rei sucked in a breath. “Well — “

She started to say no, because dammit, that’s what she wanted to say, what she needed to say. But then Keiko swung hopeful eyes her way, and the words died on Rei’s lips.

“Yamato? Do you have an idea?” she asked.

And Rei's willpower crumbled like a sand castle on an angry shore, because Keiko’s tentative smile and pleading eyes cut to the heart and dissolved her defenses in one heavy wave. Rei sighed and patted her wig, slowly getting up from the table as a hollow formed in the pit of her belly.

“It’s not a sure thing, but yeah,” Rei said, every word heavy on her tongue. “There’s a call I can make.”

CLICK HERE TO READ THE REST OF CHAPTER 24 ON AO3!

[neednothavehappenedtobetrue]

I am in the tiniest teacup fandom that only has like twelve fics on AO3 (I’m not naming show/character names on here because the creators are on here and I’m shy, but it’s a tabletop actual play podcast that ran the same campaign for ten years)

and of those twelve fics, two are mistagged fics from a much larger fandom, three are about the one canon lesbian couple and the rest are all about Dude #1/Dude #2.

zero of the fanfics are about Dude #3/ Dude #4, and that is a travesty, because the fanfic very nearly writes itself.

like, details extremely redacted because I don’t want to make the cast uncomfortable

and as much as I’ve written some high fucking nonsense fanfic in the past before, I’m not writing a(nother) fanfic for an audience of almost nobody/nobody I know because that’s lonely

and I have a novel to revise and twenty+ other projects in the queue including, yes, the sequel to my last tiny-fandom fanfic, so I will not be writing the fanfic that has sprung fully-formed into my brain,

but rest assured that if I did it would write itself!!!!!

[vivianbernadetteaurora]

The OG of beauty and when it goes too far

This is all these women in their prime, obviously, but what about when plastic surgery takes it to too far in some cases, when you’ve had too much lip filler too much Botox changed your face about too much it looks completely different, I was watching Robbie Williams documentary and how they used to call him in the 90s and I literally couldn’t believe it when he was just a normal size man, the same size as my father who was just a normal normal size man tiny bit of a belly but not ridiculously fat not fat at all.

I can’t even imagine what it would be like Hollywood or any kind of media outlet and celebrities from England say that the British pressure is definitely the worst, some Americans would say it’s the other way round don’t Americans don’t Courtney Love say that she was treated really well in the British media because of her love of teacup and other things English, I don’t know really but I’ve seen pretty bad, you don’t get blind items over here. I’ve tried to look for some English celebrities because they’re just not famous in America and it’s one big thing for English artist to crack America.

But some of these women and people get really annoyed when I say I prefer Bobby Jean Brown to Pamela Anderson, just love her personality and I love her style and I don’t like the way that she knew that Tommy had a girlfriend and got with him anyway, anyway it’s Tommy’s fault really because he’s the one who is in a relationship.

But I look at Megan Fox now who is stunning in the mid 2000 and I feel like she’s turned herself into something Genzie like because even Holly Madison and Bridget Marquette, was saying that you can’t be beautiful enough for nowadays. Everything has to have a filter those pictures of like Gwyneth Paltrow with a filter over her face from the 90s.

I’m sorry these kids from this generation don’t seem to think they are attractive but they were fucking stunning, I know they love Pam but they need to love these other women too because they’ve given so much of their life to us😍 they deserve some sort of love.

I guess you can’t have enough beauty in this industry, like plastic surgery drugs and all the other things become very addictive, and they have all the money and the resources to do so, I mean look at the Kardashians when they started, they were a rich family growing up, but they have changed over the years Kim Kardashian, especially and Khloe, khloe was always told that she was the ugly one out of the sisters, she was just a normal Armenian and a woman, beautiful but natural, but that’s not enough even they move growing up around it, actually makes it worse, and Kylie Jenner not forgetting having her lips done and it just being a huge thing because she was so young that’s a sad part.

[kurominiiiz]

Black porcelain dolls still looked black and any dolls older than that were/are blackface dolls so I’m going to need you to check your anti blackness regardless of your race don’t call out other people if you not gonna check your own ignorance

First of all, lose the attitude if you're remaining on anon. I was being as kind as I could be because I did NOT understand!

"Anti blackness" bc I'm talking about dolls? Are you obtuse? It's always the anons that don't wanna check themselves. I turned anon back on for those too scared to post asks, but now people like you are gonna be why I turn them back off.

Before accusing me of racism, read my post you illiterate harlot.

"Her face and arms are made mainly of wax, like a candle. Her legs are made of china – like a plate or a teacup. Her body is made of cotton stuffed with wood shavings."

Another thing that old dolls had was glazed or unglazed porcelain. Where did porcelain come from and how did it spread? The silk roads! They came from china!

Grazed porcelain is what a lot of dolls are made of, which means they come from China. Chinese beauty standards back then were "pale and tiny", which is why dolls looked the way they did. THAT is what I picture.

Plus, most "vintage" dolls are pale. Please do your research. Look up any antique doll and you will see they're mostly pale. The fact you're trying to get on me and accuse me of racism bc of a fic is ridiculous. Are you like 14?

Also, I'm blasian. I'm black and I'm from China. Back the fuck up before calling me anti black LOL. "Regardless of your race" hun this IS my race. These are the mfs that are white and tryna act like they the shit ☠️☠️☠️

[hotnsteamyfanfic]

My Hottest Fanfic: Luffy Doesn't Post Fanfiction for 3 Months and Gets Deported to Adopt Me 😈⛓️🔞🥵

It’s been three months since my last fanfic, and you haven’t been waiting for no reason.  😈⛓ They say to live life on the edge but this will make you finish at lightning speed ⚡💦🌊

Luffy yawned as he awoke at sea in his bedchamber. He stretched his limbs until he could feel the ceiling and then pulled himself out of bed. Last night he’d partied a bit too hard and crashed into his bed without changing into pajamas. There weren’t many options on the ship, so he decided to stick with the same clothes. He opened up the rugged wooden door to his room, but was shocked by a girl standing there. “Who the hell are you?!” he loudly shrieked. He heard a soft chuckle coming from Zoro at the other side of the ship.

“I’m whatever that girl’s name was from middle school. Like Alistair but I think I got that spelling wrong. I’m here to remind you that you haven’t posted a fanfiction in three months,” she said.

“But… I thought you’d forgotten about this whole joke profile. It’s not that big of a deal that I just haven’t posted in a while,” Luffy responded.

“It is that big of a fucking deal, you hear me?!”

“No.”

“If you’ve ever heard about the story of Arachne from Greek mythology you’ll know to not mess with those in higher power, or face consequences.”

“You’re literally just some girl that broke into the ship, how are you of higher power?”

“You know what? fuck you; you’re going to the world of Adopt Me. Say goodbye to your silly adventures!” she said in a joyous tone.

Luffy suddenly fell through the floorboards of the ship and almost immediately landed into a tiny home with nothing but a bed and a few boxes in front of him. He’d only taken a tiny fall. A small bird from inside the house fluttered around him and said—with a very high-pitched voice—”Welcome to Adopt Me!”

“What the fuck?! The tutorial is supposed to be a fucking textbox, not a bird! The only fucking birds in Adopt Me are those dumb little idiots that ask to eat food sometimes and beg to go to school every, like, 20 days; that is if they even have bird pets in this dumb world.”

The bird angrily replied, “If you’re gonna be such a bitch to me then you might as well just play this game without any tutorial.”

“I’ve always wanted to skip this fucking thing, so thank you very much,” he responded.

Luffy turned around and opened his door, revealing the outside world. He walked the road to the tunnel nearby, basking in the bright houses around him, and went through to the other side.

“Woah, I’m going to act like this is the best thing I’ve ever seen to make this story more epic,” he said to himself. “I want to compliment these buildings to add more words to the story to make it look cooler, but these buildings are fucking stupid. Like, a teacup for a tea shop? A giant slice of pizza as a pizza place? You even got a fucking car on top of the dealership!”

He walked his way to the main plaza directly in front of him surrounding the nursery and was met by screams of people constantly saying phrases along the lines of, “ABC to trust trade dream pet!” Luffy sighed at the repetitive and frankly stupid nature of their speech. He walked over to one that wasn’t yelling and tried to spark a conversation, hoping that someone was able to speak normally.

“Hey, what’s your name?” Luffy asked.

The man responded, “Hi, my name is Jake / DP FR Golden Penguin / Trade unwanted pets / Nice guy / Trying to get neon FR golden unicorn / neon maker / pet is NFT until fully grown / trade for free–”

Luffy cut him off by walking away in an attempt to not go insane from these nonsensical words. He walked inside of the nursery and walked to the section labeled ‘pets’. He was greeted by a dog in fancy clothing and thought, damn, dressing up for the French revolution, huh?

“Greetings, what mayhap bring thou on this fine evening?” the dog asked.

“Egg,” he simply replied.

“Ah, so thine quest is to find a pet, mayhap I interest thou in a starter egg?”

“Yeah.”

“Make sure thy take good care of thine new pet, for it contains thine companion for life, until you abandon it for a new one.” The dog then handed Luffy a giant egg.

Luffy walked back and out the door to the nursery, weaved through the crowd of braindead merchants, through the tunnel, and back home.

He opened the door to his home and went to the room to the front-right: the kitchen. He activated the burner and cracked his massive egg onto the pan, where it immediately started smoking. The heat was way too high and there was no oil in the pan. Luffy started coughing as his whole house quickly filled up with smoke, the sound of his smoke alarm only adding further chaos to the situation. The egg was stuck to the pan and he couldn’t do anything to stop it.

Zoro looked down into the hole Luffy had fallen throug—watching Luffy as some of the smoke escaped it—and said, “Gyatt damn, he can’t even fry an egg. Shit’s smoking like a black blunt. Dumbass bitch can’t even use a stove. Thought that gum-gum fruit only made him bad at swimming, not cooking. Hey, bitch, I think you forgot the salt. I’d love to start smoking you, but the egg is already doing that. My mom could cook better than that, and she’s dead! I don’t even care if that’s lore accurate, I just know that you being a dumbass is. I bet you tried to fry an egg with baby oil one time. I bet you think that baby oil came from babies. You can’t even operate a microwave without burning the food. When you try to boil pasta you light the water on fire. When you turn on an empty oven you burn the metal grates.”

[quicktimeeventfull]

zooms in here. fic prompt: matsulight with light being pissed that hes attracted to matsuda because he's pretentious about being a self-identified sapiosexual

thank you!!! i was so excited to see this, i adore matsulight so much but can never think of anything to write about them haha. reading this over again i may have gotten slightly off-track fdfjlsd but i hope you enjoy this anyway!

Light had always prided himself on his excellent taste. Appearances had never mattered much to him — what he liked were people smart enough to keep up with him. People with minds like like complicated locks which only he would be clever enough to pick.

He’d never been interested in anyone, particularly. This was because he was — if he should be allowed to set down his considerable modesty, for a moment — smarter than nearly everyone he’d met in his life.

And so it was very deeply irritating that he found himself flustered every single time Matsuda was in the room.

Matsuda. Of all fucking people.

Matsuda had many good qualities. He really did. Light had never quite understood why everyone else on the task force batted him around as much as he did — he was pleasant, and he was humble, and he worked hard. He was the sort of person Light often pretended to be. But he wasn’t smart, not really, not the way Light was, and not the way the sort of person he was determined to want needed to be. He thought with his heart and not his mind. If it came right down to it, Matsuda would always flinch in the final moments and that was why Light could never lower himself to love him. 

It was past dawn, but barely. Light had arrived at the hotel early, hoping to get as much as he could finished before the rest of the task force arrived, but Matsuda was the only one there. He was sitting cross-legged on the floor, pages of documents spread out in a circle around him. 

Matsuda, he noted, was always the one who wanted to stay latest, and apparently he was the one who came earliest, too.

“Oh!” he said, as Light walked in. “Up and at ‘em, right?” 

Light stared at him. This was one of the stupidest things he’d ever heard in his life and so it was deeply aggravating that he could feel his face growing hot. He hoped it didn’t show. “Where’s L? Doesn’t he live here?” 

Matsuda pointed to a closed door by the back of the hotel. “Asleep. I guess even he has to do that sometimes?” He sprung up. “Why don’t I make you a coffee?” 

“No, I should — we should get to work.” 

“No one else is here,” Matsuda said. “Come on.” He beamed at Light, then walked over to the hotel’s little kitchenette. Light, seeing no sensible path of resistance, followed.

Light didn’t like to think about how much this hotel must cost every night. Presumably, it was a lot. It had its own sitting area, and its own glass table, and a somewhat tacky chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Still, it was just a hotel, and the kitchenette was just a counter with a tiny sink, a kettle and four mugs on it, sitting face-down on a white hand-towel. The mugs were very clearly not provided by the hotel. Two of them said I <3 JAPAN on them, in English, and another said GANBATTE!! in huge pink katakana, with an off-brand Hatsune Miku cheering behind the words. 

“We bought them from the gift shop,” Matsuda said apologetically, as he flicked on the kettle. “No one could figure out where L — sorry, Ryuuzaki — keeps all those teacups. But it’s, you know. Encouraging. The cups.” 

“Right,” said Light. They were in L’s bedroom. Light felt this was fairly obvious — there weren’t actually any alternatives. The one time they’d picked a hotel that didn’t have a separate room in which L could sleep, they’d been sitting out on the table even when they weren’t being used. If Matsuda were a partner fit for Light, Light reminded himself, he would already have known this. 

“Anyway,” Matsuda said. He pulled out one of the drawers and fished out a little plastic bag of stick coffee. “Do you want … hm. We have regular black, milk, melted milk … oh, there’s an ume in here. Do you like ume?” 

“I —“ He did. “Not really.” It seemed childish, somehow. He didn’t want to draw too much attention to the fact that he was still, technically speaking, a university student. 

Matsuda looked up at him, his expression strangely curious, then shrugged. “Why don’t you try it? Maybe you’ll be surprised.”

“I — fine. Okay.” 

Matsuda smiled at him, then spun around as the kettle began to hiss. He took one of the I <3 JAPAN mugs and the copyright-friendly Miku one off the towel, then poured hot water onto them. He shook an ume stick into the Ganbatte mug and a melted milk stick into the other, then, bewilderingly, stuck the empty plastic into his pocket instead of literally anywhere else. Light guessed he didn’t know where the garbage was — Watari usually cleaned up for them. Light didn’t either, actually, but that didn’t mean he’d go around stashing trash in his pockets. He was very annoyed to find that he was endeared by this.

Matsuda took a stir stick from the ziploc bag, then stirred the coffee — Light’s first, and then his own — then handed Light the Ganbatte mug. 

Light took a sip. It was very sweet, and very warm. He took another. 

“You know,” Matsuda said. His voice was strangely contemplative. Light looked up. Matsuda was looking carefully away from him, staring towards the corner of the room. “You don’t, actually, have to pick the more difficult option all of the time. Or the coolest one. You could, also, pick the one you want.” 

Light could feel his face flaring, suddenly, hot. He was really extremely sure that this showed. He took another long drink from his mug. He was sure that Matsuda was looking away on purpose, but he hoped this nonetheless meant that Matsuda couldn’t see. “Yeah,” he said. “I know.” 

Matsuda turned, and smiled at him. “Okay. Well. Just something to think about.” He clapped Light on the shoulder. “Right. Well. Let’s get to work?” 

Light nodded, mutely, and followed him out to the documents, the mug warm in his hands. 

[earhartsease]

what's the most autistic achievement you've ever made? we'll start (sorry bit of a long story coming now - read on if you want a small heap of casual woodwind instrument knowledge)

it's spring of 1985, we're *counts* 22 years old and in our first year of an intense af course learning to make and repair woodwind instruments (which we will a year later tumble out of due to getting ME/CFS, as it turned out)

anyway, one of our old friends (well we'd known each other since we were 11 so) asked us to service her father's bass clarinet - if you're not familiar with those, they look thus

and they're played almost exactly like your normal Bb clarinet that you might have seen or played in a school band, but all an octave lower

the important part here is all that keywork

like there's just a lot of it - and the keywork was what brought the instrument to our tiny college workshop desk

because what happened was this was a pretty nice bass clarinet, and it had silver plated keys (often on the more basic/cheaper instruments the keys will be nickel-plated), and he'd put one of those classic yellow duster cloths you get in the case to wipe the instrument down with, and the cloth had come from china and had some kind of chemical in it that basically took some of the silver off the keywork it was pressed against

we showed the instrument to our repairing tutor and he was keen for us to do the work on it - which meant not only giving the thing a full service and repadding the keys (they have little pads under the cups which press against the edges of the holes underneath to make a seal - on standard clarinets back then they were either synthetic or handmade with fish bladder skin of all things, but on posher ones or bass clarinets they used white leather pads sorry long parenthesis) but also to strip off all of the keywork and get it replated

bloody hell this is getting long

anyway we did this, so before tweaking everything that needed tweaking we took off all the keys, and unscrewed all the pillars that are set into the wood (african blackwood, dalbergia melanoxylon) of the instrument's body, and strung them carefully in order on a steel wire to send off for replating

we were off college for a couple of weeks because of the fucking fatigue, and when we got back the guy who'd sent the metalwork off for us for replating looked sombre and handed us a box - the plating had come back beautifully done, but "I'm afraid the wire broke" and all of the pillars and posts were just in a jumble in the box - and there's two of these things for each key or lever or whatever, it's like over 50 of them (from the top and bottom halves of the instrument, which comes apart for storage) - and they're each unique, each can only go in one specific place because they're all different heights and so on

and we looked at them, and they looked at us - and then we cried havoc and let slip the dogs of autism, and worked out by means of jigsawlike logic and memory and sense and got it all back together - this took us three weeks, and when we showed our tutor and the class we got a huge round of applause, and he admitted he didn't think it could be done

now we feel a bit stupid writing about this, but can you imagine the fucking satisfaction involved in this?! like putting together a watch that someone else had taken apart and handed you in a teacup

so, we also want to introduce you to the bass clarinet sound if you're not familiar - first the godsdamn king, Eric Dolphy

and here's it being played beautifully and lyrically with some Bach originally for cello - we literally just found this and are in love

thank you for indulging our autism, we hope you learned new things you enjoyed learning - now tell us yours if you want to?

[aiscapades]

touchstarved m5 as tgwdlm songs

more starkid x touchstarved !! npmd here

leander — what do you want, paul?, you tied up my heart

vere — not your seed, let it out

ais — cup of poisoned coffee, join us (and die)

mhin — the guy who didn't like musicals, inevitable

kuras — show stoppin' number, america is great again

brief explanations:

leander

what do you want, paul?: this song makes me think of leander & mc's first meeting, him asking why mc is in eridia, probing them for answers but keeping his own secrets safe. "so, what do you want, paul? / a man so vague can't be trusted." leander also wants to convince mc there's hope if they stick with him, just like how paul's boss is trying to get him on the hivemind's side. also the "i want you to choke me" part. i'm not going to further explain lol you tied up my heart: once again, a song with sex stuff relating to leander ("you can tie me up if you want to") because of course. but even without that, this song has leander written all over it. your half-dead, shitty boyfriend manipulating you into freeing him? that's him alright! "i'm tied up / tied up with you / you understand me / now hand me those keys." there are also some lines that can read as leander dismissing all his escapades in an attempt to make you feel special. "all the booze and harlots / they didn't count / they couldn't break me / you're the one who caged me" + "will you ever forgive me? / i'll crawl on my hands and knees." we know you will, leander. whore.

vere

not your seed: this song makes me think of vere for very particular reasons. firstly, it's a song of rebellion. "it's not my fault anymore / no more curfews to be late for" + "not your seed / i'm not your perfect teen." no, vere isn't literally a rebellious teenage girl, but maybe metaphorically.... okay listen. he certainly doesn't like his position with the senobium. their relationship is like a parent-child dynamic in an extra fucked up kinda way. that kind of "we own you" parenting some of us know all too well (me; i'm projecting). "you left me out of your sight for one second / and look what happens / nightmare time!" this is absolutely vere finally rebelling against the senobium; i can totally see him singing this as he corners his handler, intent on giving them what they deserve. let it out: toying with, torturing someone and asking them to reveal their deepest desires is sooo vere. "what's in your soul? / is your heart so damp and bleak / that you won't give us a peak of your soul?" he likes to play with his food.

ais

cup of poisoned coffee: firstly, i know ais drinks tea, but i have this headcanon in the back of my brain that he also serves the seaspring's red water in teacups to people desperate for help. the seaspring tea/blue goo coffee parallel is a huge reason why i love this song for ais specifically. "get your cup of poisoned coffee, your toxic cup of joey / we'll make a twisted cup of java" the voices in ais's head totally sing this jingle way too often. join us (and die): this is super obvious. whether you're drinking from the seaspring or the blue goo coffee, you will die and join the hivemind. you will no longer be an individual, merely one of many. "we tried to convince you with soliloquy / but now we'll kill you with more than harmony" this gives me "well, we tried to get you to drink by convincing you it'll cure your life-threatening illness/injury... but since that didn't work, guess we'll just have to use brute force!" like ocudeus!ais forcing mc to drink from the seaspring. "we're gonna kick your ass / then we're gonna / fucking kick your ass!" this line has ais written all over it lol. he's going to beat your ass man! my guy's gonna fight you!!!!

mhin

the guy who didn't like musicals: mhin could sub in for paul for this entire musical and it would still work. they're both matter-of-fact, grouchy, buzzkills (affectionate). "in the tiny town of hatchetfield / lived an awful grinch named paul / ... not singing and dancing with us all / should we kill him? should we kill him?" i imagine this is vere's train of thought when it comes to mhin, like "they're no fun. should i just kill them? :3c" next, the lines "the words will come to you / we swear we will teach you / what it means to love / what it means to obey" read to me like the senobium's power over eridia, and specifically over mhin if they become enslaved much like vere. inevitable: all the ts love interests are capable of betraying mc, but i love thinking of the implications of mhin betraying mc. they are a monster like everyone else, but they are trying so hard to hold on to their humanity. giving in to their true self is the last thing they want to do, so mhin in particular is very interesting to think about in this lens. this song is the "after everything, after all your efforts to survive and save the world, to save the person you love, you have LOST" message that rounds up the musical. "what if i told you i made it / and this is the life that i chose? / would you even believe it?" this gives mhin's bad ending vibes!!! also the juxtaposition of these two songs for mhin (tgwdlm + inevitable) is just perfect. they are total opposites, and given mhin's very black-and-white thinking (monsters BAD!), i think it's extra fitting.

kuras

show stoppin' number: okay HEAR ME OUT. kuras as professor hidgens. this guy who has been waiting for the end times, planning for it. giving in to the apocalypse. using it to serve his own purpose. in a way, hidgens and kuras are similar in their guilt; hidgens has survivor's guilt (workin' boys) and kuras is repenting for whatever fucked-up humanity-wrecking shit he did once upon a time. only, kuras helps humans as a doctor, and hidgens... writes a very homoerotic musical. "a ditty to make the chorus girls swoon / it'll unify humanity in a thundering chorus" + "an aria to rule them all / the world will come crumblin' down" it's really giving biblical apocalypse. angel trumpets or whatever. america is great again: much like show stoppin' number, this song makes me think of kuras being complicit in & enjoying the apocalypse, though instead of just going along with the ride, kuras is actively causing it. "there's only room for right and wrong / it's me or you or you or me" + "it's a charted course at the whim of our own evolution / singularity had through a pre-destined self-destruction / so that we may rebuild and experience a new construction" definitely gives god's great flood to rid the earth of sinners, only kuras is the god in this case.

bonus: la dee dah dah day this is all of us dancing n singing together <3

[moonyslesbian]

HI!! for the weird ask game 98, 62 & 1

98. favorite historical era?

OOHHH that is a lovely question!! i'm a bit of a nerd, actually.... so i'll be cheating a bit and naming two instead of just one :P first one is, ofc, the one and only, love of my life... the french revolution. THE HOLD that this specific historical event had on 12yo alice.. oh it changed eveything. something shifted in the universe. there's just something about the splendor and magnificence of versailles and the nobles put in juxtaposition with the poor starving country.. AND HOW COOL IT WAS!! THE WAY THEY REVOLTED AGAINST THEM!!! french revolution my beloved... OK second one is more of like. an exact period of time in a particular place. i'm talking about the austrian empire in the middle of the 19th century. ok yes i'm talking about princess sissi. LISTEN.... i'm honestly more attracted to her as a person than to the historical period like yeah sure classical music was fire those days, and the dresses were amazing, and they would have cool balls in castles, and schonbrunn is stunning... BUT SISSI!!!!! i've had a bit of an hyperfixation on her during my last year of high school like she was not made to be empress.. she was kind and sensitive and she'd fuck off to her garden and she would always be alone in that big ass place and she always felt misunderstood OHHH i love her i love her

62. seven characters you relate to?

GOD that's hard...... alright in no particular order

remus lupin - ive always been a remus girlie like sorry but i just have this unexplainable spiritual connection to him. joker voice You wouldnt get it

james potter - always showing people your best but never your worst is sooo crazy haha.. thinking you're not allowed to have negative feelings is sooooo crazy...... ahaha... being the therapist friend and always trying your best and not telling people how you really feel is sooo crazy..... hahahaha... like who would do that!!

leo valdez (percy jackson) - oh funny guy!! Oh there's trauma there

fleabag (fleabag lol) - no words needed for this one

chidi anagonye (the good place) - if someone asked me to choose between two different hats i, too, would have a mental breakdown

nick (new girl) - hes just like me fr

is it silly to say rory from doctor who - LIKEEEE... dude is just there.. not really that importat to the plot.. thinks he's always the second choice and doesn't deserve stuff... He Speaks To Me

1. coffee mugs, teacups, wine glasses, water bottles, or soda cans?

listen. LISTEN!!! you can't tell me holding a wine glass in your hand doesn't suddenly make you feel powerful and important. i could be drinking an energy drink from a wine glass and i'd still be swirling it around and taking tiny tiny sips to be elegant

[halfblackwolfdemon]

Those last lines actually made me tear up, oh fuck.

But yes, this is a Danny that's seen it all, done it all, and is, in a sense, an old man here watching over his kids/grandkids.

When he does eventually meet Alfred, they nod and understand each other on such a deep and emotional level. They've seen some shit and came out better for it. They're exasperated grandpa's to too many kids/grandkids. Cause you know that Alfred sees all of the young heroes and he has at least a tiny mental "my kids" to all that he meshes with, like Clark and Diana (even though he knows, logically, that she's centuries older than him, she's still learning the World of Man and he can help with that). Maybe Barry, too.

They meet up for tea and just lament their children and how they need to be more open, how they love how strong they are and the like.

And then Danny gets a ding on his phone that's connected to the Watchtower (how he did it, Bruce is still trying to puzzle out, damnit!) And he sighs, sets his teacup down and is like, "Same time next week, dude?"

Alfred gives him a nod and starts to gather their dishes, blue eyes flashing red momentarily, "Right on time."

(It's another aspect of Clockwork, living here and being mortal-adjacent to keep a watch over his own protégé son)

Hero EMT/Field Medic Danny Au

Like maybe due to all his scraps and bumps as Phantom, Danny ends up getting EMT and Field Medic training or starts studying to be one. Cause hey this will be helpful later he just knows it. Plus he could go into medical engineering (or what ever the field is called that invents medical devices) with hi Fenton Mad Scientist smarts and hyoerfocusing on healing others instead of hunting Ghosts.

A few decades or centuries down the line, Danny is now ghost king and retired from Phantom. His advisors believe he needs a vacation. And ooh look what Clockwork found- a universe with heroes. So off he goes to DC universe.

Except, his core is demanding he help some way..but there are so many heroes. Perhaps instead of being a hero, he could help the heroes.

Que Danny slapping on domino mask, tying his hair back, grabbing his old modified Fenton field medic uniform and the Patented Fenton Medical Bag (which is like the Mary Poppins bag but for medical supplies). And h doesn't even bother going Ghost. He can use his powers in human form but he does so sparingly- like lifting a building off a trapped hero or civilian, icing a wound to stop the bleeding until h can get them some where safe and duplicating himself to help in disaster relief. Suddenly there are reports of a mysterious masked meta field medic showing up at big villain battles or the aftermath of another invasion and running disaster relief and helping civilian and hero alike. Many young heroes tell their mentors of a masked medic who helped patch them up. So on ad so forth.

[rooney2nes]

the transmasc urge to have a tea party

[winslowat3am]

WINSLOW! 😃😁😄 If Winnie the pooh did cottagecore things what would it look like? House decor, hobbies, cooking, and stuff like that what stuff would he like and the visuals?

Oh my fuck, I love this question! So glad you asked. 😏🐻

If Winnie was a cottagecore king, he would live in a small, wooden style cottage, similar to his own, but maybe he has a little rose/flower bush outside his bedroom window where he tends to his flowers in the morning. Maybe some small fruit & veggie bushes & trees too (strawberries 🍓, grapes 🍇, squash, bananas 🍌, carrots 🥕 etc) that he uses to prepare food for his other animal friends. 🐷🐯🐴

I'm thinking the interior would have wallpaper since he has a happy personality. He would love floral or any kind of bright vintage wallpaper to add some color. I can definitely see him wearing a little garden hat that Piglet made for him & maybe he hangs it on a wall like this when he's done picking berries & veggies. Lol. He'd also have pictures of his friends/family hung on the walls & bits of nature photography hung that he took himself.

Bedroom! Same as before, it would be colorful & bright, florals, vintage, handmade items by himself & his friends. Quilts. He would LOVE quilts! Warm colored afghans & quilts would replace the summery thin sheets during the colder months. Various fabrics & designs. Some stuffed plushies to make it more cozy & homey. A hand painted dresser that's chipping because he's had it for eons, but refuses to replace it. On the walls is where he keeps more framed photos of art they made, & on top of the dresser is a lamp, journal & vintage knickknacks.

In the kitchen he has wooden furniture, those old school curtains that you hang up by hand, he collects teacups, table cloths & honey jars, flower vases (that he actually uses), decorative plates, maybe some china, & pots from hand-me-down thrift stores. The curtains are always drawn to allow sunlight in for the flowers. He kind of has kind of, like, a grandmacore vibe going. I could see him being hella into grandmacore, art, sewing, scented candles & interior design, lmao. Perhaps he's sewn more cute belly shirts all in different colors for when his iconic red one gets dirty. He totally still wears pajamas & sits next to the fireplace during the winter, btw. Everything is a little mix & match, but pleasing & to his liking. He has small rugs here & there, & in his bathroom is probably a bowl sink, more wallpaper, with acorn designs, too. There's an old couch, coffee table, display tables in corners, tall glass cabinets for his china display & tv set in the living room that connects to the kitchen.

& yeah! I think that's about it for our tour. Unless I forgot something? I don't think I did. His hobbies would be handmade art of sorts, cooking, gardening, nature walks, sleeping, eating honey & enjoying time with his friends.

Edit: Oh, & he uses the veggies he harvested to make pot pie in his tiny old style kitchen, eeee! ❤️

It's old, it's vintage, it's home. ☺️🏡🌿