#he's so earnest and sweet and she's a bubbling sparkling glass of joy

[iristial]

Something about Sachika's name (幸果) and the kanji for "happiness" (幸) being the first new kanji Shouma learned to write on Earth and the implication that he carefully copied the kanji Sachika first wrote in his sweets diary so he could use it in his episodic farewell letter warms my battered, bruised heart. It's like there's an overlap between Shouma wanting to make other people happy and finding happiness in his human friends. He can't have one without the other, which is further reason for him to stay at Hapipare in the future

[artdecosupernova-writing]

Find the Word Game VI

tagged by: @oh-no-another-idea!! my words: explanation, people, lightbulb, time tagging: @sleepy-night-child and @drippingmoon and @oh-no-another-idea right back! also anyone who wants to lol your words: read, live, lead, close, wound, present

explanation (Rebirth)—

Thrive clinked his mug against Warren's. "Would you like an explanation?"

"You know, I'd love one," Warren said, taking a hearty gulp of the champagne. The bubbles tickled his nose but he enjoyed the overall sweetness. "But feel free to leave me in the dark some more if you'd like."

Though the words were passive-aggressive, the tone was anything but. To make this clear, he waggled his eyebrows over the rim of the mug.

people (Warpath)—

When Warren looked back, Cascidi was making his way over to them, finishing off the drink in his hand and dropping the empty glass onto a tray passing through the crowd. Scot gave Warren a purposeful lift of his eyebrows and stepped away, blending into the river of people flowing around them.

"The Great and Powerful Jasper Cascidi," Warren said warmly once Cascidi got close enough to hear him. "Man, I never thought I would enjoy a circus show so much."

When Cascidi's smile widened, his dimples deepened, and his eyes sparkled with pride. "Yeah? I'm flattered."

lightbulb (Eternal)—

[Thrive] made his way to a central room with a large table standing in the middle. The glass on the surface was cracked but still intact, and he placed his palm down onto it to repair it. The cracks filled in and the lights inside rose to full power. He lifted his hand and a stuttering projection spread into the air, the colors of sunsets and oceans, illuminating the entire area with an eerie bloom.

"Give me a few moments to find the Watcher network."

"Sure."

Thrive worked in silence, occasionally slapping the side of the machine to get it to come back on.

"Bet it's weird using those after all this time," Warren said.

"You haven't the faintest idea," Thrive murmured, distracted.

time (Aurora)—

"I've just received word from DeCosta," [Thrive] said when Warren entered the bridge after a fitful sleep. "She would like us to look over the commander's strategy and give any input before they arrive from Earth."

"Sure," Warren said, dropping himself into a chair. "Whatever they want."

Thrive glanced at him. "...Would you like to go out on a date with me?"

Brows knotting in confusion, Warren tapped the console to lift the lights on the bridge. "I'd like nothing more but you're a little late with the proposal, aren't you?"

"Not if we accomplish two things at once." Thrive set the tablet on his lap. "I'll admit it gives me no joy to use quality time with you for another purpose as well, however..."

"I understand," Warren said in earnest. "Honestly, any time at all with you would be great."

[yoolee]

Samurai Lee Ballad: PARTY

Yesterday, after being INSPIRED by @dear-mrs-otome​ I tried to write in first person. I abandoned it quickly because 1) it is hard, and, 2) if you read my nonsensical rambles you will probably notice that I shove parenthetical asides in right, left, and sideways? That gets so much worse without the filter of using a not-me voice. First person defaults to me-voice and, um, me-voice is…irreverent. Among other questionable adjectives.

Yesterday was also a day of discussing self-insert versus MC-as-her-own-character-we-relate-to (I am very much the latter, but I understand the games were designed to support the former!) but that led to a ‘what if Lee were a self-insert’ and me laughing hysterically because IRL I’m an awful love interest. I am an utterly unromantic, self-absorbed mess and I would much rather spar than smooch.

So, thanks discord and @wonky-glass-ornament​ for being the enabling, wonderful influence that she is. 

HERE YA GO, HAVE SOME TRAIN WRECKS. They are not actually in first person but, this is as literal self-insert as it is possible for me to get. I’m not sorry. I should be, but hey, you don’t have to read it!!!

Kojuro

They sat side-by-side. Quiet. It was very unusual for Lee, at least, to be quiet, but this was one of those conversations she generally preferred to avoid like the plague itself. (It occurred to her that, in this era, the plague was really only a few generations back, for all that it was to the west of her present location, and therefore it could literally  be reasonable considered as something to avoid, but considering such things was just more procrastination from the uncomfortable truth). Kojuro was, you know, a good guy. Heck, he was a great guy. That’s why this was so darn hard.

Lee squirmed.

Kojuro, being patient, said nothing. But they wore similar expressions of unease, as they stared at the scene in front of them.

One of the piles moved.

Lee took a deep, long breath.

Inhale.

Exhale.

“Look, Kojuro…” Obligingly, he gave her his attention, and she puffed her cheeks and repeated the exercise of a sigh. “It’s not you.”  

Though he had never, in his entire life, been graced with the phrase known to so many others, he understood inherently what it meant, and nodded as she continued. “It’s not me, either, mind you, it’s…it’s us. It’s—” Looking profoundly uncomfortable, she flapped her hands at the room. The mess. “It’s this. That. I mean, what if there’s a fire?” What had been bad with Kojuro alone had become grotesque with Lee’s added slobbiness. “We would die. We would literally die. Smothered by our own smoldering shit. What would Masamune do then, you know?”

Kojuro, sad expression still etched on his graceful features, did not uncross his arms. “No…you are right.”

But Lee was on a roll, word-vomiting in the high-pitched, borderline hysterical manner she was wont to adopt when doing things she didn’t like—like cleaning, but, that was also neither here nor there. “You buy three copies of a book, I buy three copies of a book, thank the stars neither of us have more than two or three changes of clothing in this era because the laundry…” She shuddered, gulping inadvertently in recoiling horror. “Or takeout my God Kojuro I just…” She took a deep breath. Shoved out her hand. Oh lord this was awkward.

“I think we should see other spaces.”

Smiling at last at the truth of it, wry humor in his lovely green gaze, Kojuro accepted her handshake with a firm grip of his own. “Other spaces.” He agreed.

Mitsunari

Finished.

Lee beamed at her creation. Perfection. Excellence. First-rate, gourmet cuisine. See? She could pull off this cook-stuff. Just needed the motivation of it being something she loved.

She scooped a heaping bowlful and slapped the dish onto the table before Mitsunari. “Ta-daaaa!”

Hideyoshi, peering over his vassal’s shoulder in curiosity, looked as though he might want to poke it. “What is it?”

Affronted—but not surprise—a hand fluttered over Lee’s heart. Poor, deprived Hideyoshi! “This,” she began, in the serious intonation of a great storyteller, imparting history upon the chosen, “Is only the greatest meal to ever be invented. This is the quintessential comfort food of my home, the primo, cream-of-crop, best, top option for stomach satisfaction and warm, cozy heart-fullness.”

Mitsunari looked irritated. “Food doesn’t work that wa—”

Pretending he did not exist, Lee wiggled shush fingers and kept going, undeterred by interruptions through virtue of just being louder. “This is nirvana in noodle form. This is bliss in a bowl. Edible ecstasy. Palatable paradise. Delight in the form of a delicacy. This is hope. This is joy. This is—“

“Macaroni and cheese.” Mitsunari intoned flatly.

“—this is macaroni and cheese. Yes.” Lee nodded, beaming.

Hideyoshi slid into a seat, and held out his hands in hcheerful request. Obligingly, Lee provided a bowl. He laughed, “Kinda looks like Ieyasu’s hair.”

Mitsunari’s entire face spasmed in abject revulsion. Lee frowned at Hideyoshi and snatched back the bowl, scowling in the face of the puppy dog pout that met her. “No mac-and-cheese for you.”

“Pleeeease?”

She relented, and got her own bowl besides.

“And what do you expect me to do with this?” Mitsunari’s spine was ramrod straight.

Fussy, fussy, Lee thought. Her spoon froze mid-bite. “Well I certainly don’t suggest stirring it.” She murmured.

“What?”

Her eyebrows arched, “What?”

Mitsunari frowned.

Hideyoshi gamefully tried not to choke on his combination swallow of food and laugh.

“Nothing, don’t think about it.” Lee tried to smile innocently. It didn’t work very well. She looked like a stepford wife who would hold a butcher knife behind her back with one hand while offering you cookies with the other. Luckily for Mitsunari, both hands were visible at the moment, as she started scarfing her own bowl, admonishing over mouthfuls and gesturing with her spoon. “Jubst eabt it.”

Mitsuhide

And so, Lee and her would-be suitor stood in front of the setting sun, awash in warm golds and glowing, scattered reds. He was so pretty. And so serious. Lee sighed, and managed a grin. “Well. It’s been nice.” It had been. Perfectly, pleasantly nice. “I’m…you know. I’m really sorry about your nose.” It had been an accident. It really had been. “I am. I am so sorry, but…if it’s any consolation, the fact it’s a little, um, crooked now kinda suits you? Very…rakish. Charming. Adds a nice edge to the…you know. Nice. Some doll will be delighted.

Mitsuhide gave her a wary—but polite—stare (which she thought was rather impressive to pull off, but classically Mitsuhide) as though he wasn’t entirely convinced that the danger to his once-flawless face had truly passed. “Think nothing of it.” He offered magnanimously. “Good luck, on your journey.”

“Thanks!” Lee beamed, “And, you know, we’ll always have the kittens.” Something fond softened his smile, and Lee smiled to see it, turning to leave. But then she remembered something, and turned, seizing Mitsuhide’s hands with earnest insistence. “Oh, hey, wait—listen. Sh— here in Owari? It’s gonna go south. Like, real south. Like Australian hand-sized-venomous-spider-territory south. And you…just hang on in there, okay?” Her hands dropped from his to clap his cheeks in an utter invasion of his personal bubble. Somewhat surprised by the whole thing, Mitsuhide just froze. Lee squeezed his squishy cheeks. “You are loved, important, precious, and usually right. So don’t you get down on yourself, and don’t you die.” She dropped her hands in favor of settling them on her hips. “I’d miss you.”

With the small, thoughtful smile she loved, Mitsuhide’s head tilted just a bit. “I imagine I would miss you as well, Miss Lee.” In a faint, mischievous moment of candidness, he added, “Maybe.”

Lee snickered—hey, she got it, the nose, remember?—“You got this, boo. So…hang in there, sweet Mitsugoose.”

“…Mitsu…goose?”

Lee ducked in to press a kiss to his cheek. “Don’t worry about it.” But then it was time to leave, and like an overdramatic warrior in a tropey, clichéd action flick, she set down the road towards the setting sun, calling over her shoulder, “Catch you on the flipside, sweetie!”

Saizo & Yukimura

“God he is…just. So. F%*@ing pretty, isn’t he?” Lee sighed dreamily from her perch on the porch. Saizo eyed her flatly, exasperation evident to those he knew him, though those who did not would perhaps suggest he only looked bored.

“You’ve mentioned as much.”

“You think so too, don’t you? I mean come on, the guy’s got shoulders for days. And those eyes.” Lee, who had never actually swooned in her life, did her best impression of a Gaston fangirl from Beauty in the Beast.

“Sparkling pools of limpid sapphires, was it, now?”

“Sparkling pools of limpid sapphires.” Lee agreed through multiple repeats of dreamy sighs, “Or maybe more of an aquamarine? Hmm…” She rested her chin on her hands, own eyes alight in admiration. “Yeah. Aquamarine.”

Saizo said nothing.

“Not that your eyes aren’t lovely too, Saizo.” She offered consolingly, expression serious as she tore her eyes away from Yukimura. “They’re a very nice garnet and they offset quite dreamily with the spiky silver hair and navy getup. Which is my favorite, you should know.” Knowing he was completely immune—in fact, because she knew he was completely immune—Lee fluttered her eyelashes, “I’d love to see it on me.”

Saizo deigned to smile, razor wire. “Try again in a hundred years, little lady.” He leaned down and over, and Lee knew she was supposed to blush and stutter but instead clapped her hands together in appreciative consideration.

“Ooooh look at those garnet flecks.”

Saizo withdrew. “Limpid and sparkling.”

“More…mysterious and speckled with tragic backstory.” Lee surged to her feet and flung herself at the would-rather-not-be-flung at ninja. “Saizo, baby, sweetie, you get to be happy. I am cheering for you.” She released him from the squish to clasp his forearms in brotherhood solidarity. He allowed it out, but she could tell the acquiescence was temporary. “Yukimura is cheering for you. An entire fanbase with the exception of some outliers who would prefer you communicate more openly—I think you’re fine, but, I like cats and they are similarly contradictory and secretive—and let your MC have some edge, are cheering for you. You kick some village ass. You tell those elders to shove it, you hear me?  And then you and Yukimura, you live happily ever after, you hear me?”

Saizo sighed, and looked long-suffering.

Lee continued.  “I don’t necessarily mean that romantically—I mean I wouldn’t complain, whatever makes you two happy, but, I mean you obviously need one another at least platonically. Oh!” Saizo did not look like he wanted her to continue, but she did. “Also! I am adopting Sasuke. He is my son now.”

“Is he now.”

“Yes. We’re going to the beach and building sandcastles next week and I do hope you’ll come.” She turned back to where Yukimura was still training, and imagined beach sun, sandy shores, and skin sparkling from salt water. Her heart fluttered. “Yukkins too.”

Saizo gave her a look.

Lee raised her hands in defense, “Heeey I just look, I don’t touch, okay? Don’t worry. No harassment suits, please. And his heart’s just as pretty and that’s just as important to me too, yeah?”

He didn’t say yes, but Lee saw it in his shoulders, they way they relaxed a half fraction even as his arms crossed. She grinned. “Softie.”

Saizo decided she was doing enough sighing for both of them. “Just pack some dango.”

Lee had no idea how to make them, but by god she would learn. “You got it, sparky.”

Nobunaga

The last, defiant squawk before Nobunaga’s sword hit home rattled off of the castle walls at impressively high-pitched volume.

“THIS IS—” Lee screeched, “SUCH. FU@#)%@ING. BULLSH#)%!”

Inuchiyo (Toshiie)

Lee gripped her trident with the cackling triumph of the damned, eyes wild and grin toothy, “YEAH! LET’S DO THIS! Like, I know that y’all are really just human beings like me and have families and hopes and dreams, and objectively my pursuit of this occupation may ultimately end in the loss of something inherent to my humanity but I am rolling with the times and have always suspected I am kind of awful underneath it all so BRING IT ON, MOTHERF@)$!RS!”

Hideyoshi elbowed Toshiie nervously, “Puppy…is she okay?”

Slightly deranged laughter was all that met the inquiry. Hideyoshi looked troubled. Keiji joined his cackling friend and cousin, crowing in the battlelusty way of the Maeda berserkers. Hideyoshi backed away. Why couldn’t Inuchiyo fall for a nice, sweet, normal girl? This whole getting drunk and wiping out enemy armies was great for the honor of the clan and all, but good grief their livers.

“He could have fallen for such a nice girl, too.” He sighed to himself, talking to no one in particular. “A nice, sweet, normal neighborhood girl. But noooo….”

The terrified—and slightly confused—screams of their foes rattled back to his ears.

Hideyoshi

“Hideyoshi?” Lee slid into a spot next to her beau, reaching over to take his hands, “Honey, we need to talk.” Hideyoshi knew what that meant, or thought he did, and Lee immediately recognized her blunder. “Cr@$p! Not what I meant. Not that. I’m good, you’re good, we’re golden--but, yeah, good is kinda the problem.”

Hideysohi was willing to play along, “Yeah?”

Lee nodded, “Yeah. I want talk to you…” She released one of his hands to shift, doing the hand-rainbow-whoosh people did when talking about big pictures. “…About villainry.” She paused to let that sink in. For effect and such.  Hideyoshi mostly looked amused. “Hear me out. Boo, you’ve got all the potential. Angelic smile! Loyal retainers! Clever mind! People trust you, baby. You could totally rock that into some serious class-A supervillain shit. And like, I’m not talking the subjugation of the masses kind of nonsense, I know you’re not about that life and hey I’m not either, way too much work you know? But like, benign dictator? Shadow master behind the throne? It has you all over it. I mean, I love Yasu but his manipulation game has nothing on your subtlety. Subtlety’s key.”

She could see it, the gentle consideration behind golden eyes, and finally, the small, determined smile. She tried not to cackle in triumph—didn’t go with the benign leader rather than wicked witch image she was pitching here, but hey, she wasn’t one of Japan’s unifiers—and instead squealed with delight. “Well…let’s see, okay?”

Lee applauded. “YES! Exactly! That’s it! That is my jam. Lookout, world! You’re goin’ down!” She caught herself, and coughed awkwardly, adding, “In a good way! Really!”

Masamune

They stood face-to-face, one hand clasped. His other hand rested on her cheek, hers on his heart. They stared at one another, in silence.

From his place hiding on the other side of the door, Shigezane sucked in a breath, “C’mon,” He muttered, “Sha-na-na-na-na kiss the girl, right?”

“Ssh.” Kojuro admonished sternly.

Lee and Masamune ignored them, though they could hear perfectly, of course.

“Masamune,” Lee began, voice soft and unhurried. She took a moment before continuing, but Masamune was a patient sort of person, and did not hurry her, which she appreciated. She leaned into the hand pressing her cheek and smiled. “We don’t have to do this.”

Masamune looked startled, and then unsure. “We don’t?”

“Nope.”

“Thank goodness.” He dropped his hand with a sigh of relief, shoulders relaxing for the first time since this whole business began. Lee did the same.

“Book club buddies?”

“Book club buddies.” He agreed.

The pair of them went back to silently reading on separate cushions, perfectly content. Shigezane threw open the door. “What?! No! No!! Noooo! Masamune, come on! What about…what about an heir?”

Lee was at a really good part of her book, and didn’t care to be interrupted, but Shigezane was a sweetheart and so she didn’t mind (much). “I have an adopted son in Kai.”

“Really?” Masamune looked surprised.

Lee nodded. “Yup. Would that work?”

Kojuro, who had followed Shigezane in with silent reproach, looked like he wanted to say something, but Masamune beat him to it.

“That works for me.”

“Sweet.” Lee gave Shigezane a thumbs up. “Problem solved!”

They went back to their books.

Ieyasu

Lee bit her tongue (barely) because he was the boss and all, but boy did she want to shove her spatula up his stubborn ass. But then she’d have to buy a new one, and the good ones were kind of pricey. She did wonder for a moment if maybe she could expense it, being a casualty of employment under Toku-snob-wa, but then she remembered that several-centuries-ago-Japan warlord organizations did not typically have finance departments and reimbursement accounts.

Well maybe they did, she wasn’t really great at history.

Or finance.

She settled for banging the pots down with more force than the poor pots deserved. Pouty McPoutcurls sneered. She snarled back silently, fingers curling around the handle of her spatula…but, no. Her poor, sweet little spatula did not deserve that fate. It would be brutally unfair of her to call on it for such a sacrifice. Maybe an unfortunate spoon or something, but not her spatula. “Don’t worry little buddy,” she murmured lovingly, completely ignoring Ieyasu as he verbally sulked about something or other related to her existence, “We have many more a soufflé ahead of us.”

“Are you listening, kitchen wench?”

“Saucy kitchen wench, thanks. And nah—I tuned out around when you called me an imbecile. I’ll have you know,” Lee sniffed, affecting a haughty sneer that really came just a bit too easily to her face, “I have three degrees. One of which is chemistry, so, sure I haven’t united a country and whatnot, but I gosh darn well know you oughta be wearing some PPE when you’re mixing up meds.” That had not, in any way, been what they had been talking about (or yelling about, perhaps) but it seemed important to bring up. She squinted at her pan and decided it was done, flopping the contents over onto a plate and shoving at Ieyasu.

He frowned at it.

Lee sighed. Her shriveled, undersized little heart actually ached a little bit. Maybe. Kind of.  “You’ve been here the whole time. It’s not poisoned. You’d have seen me do it.”

Silence.

“The only risk is to your cholesterol levels and really with as much tempura as you eat I don’t see how this will Lee decided with all the pouting he did, she could afford a little one herself, so she pouted, though she was far too old to be engaging in that sort of nonsense. “Come oooon. They’re good. See? Look how fluffy they are—” she prodded at the scrambled eggs—a Lee specialty—on his plate. “A time-honored recipe. A trusted one, a treasured one, passed down from ancestor to ancestor lovingly through the ages, whispered in the ears of great chefs, shared—“

“You got it off of Pinterest.”

“I got it off of Pinterest. Alton Brown. Fluffy in the extreme.” Lee leaned over the counter, placing her hands on both sides of the plate, “The extreeeeme.” Because that was creepy, she laughed, and settled back into her kitchen, hopping up onto the countertop.

“That is appallingly unhygienic.”

“I’ll wash it with bleach. Eat your da—eggs, grumpy gills.”

Kenshin & Shingen

Lee stood at the start of their common route, squinting in horrified dismay at the mountain path. Shit. She was supposed to climb that? F--. The three flights of steps to her apartment were enough to leave her wheezing. She was more, you know, cerebral than athletic. She rubbed her cheeks in hands, and considered.

“Yeah, nope. I’m way too tired for this shit.. Sorry boys.”

Maybe she could sell all that salt in the village for enough to pay off the Magistrate’s cronies.

“Yup,” She nodded to herself. “Good plan, let’s do it.”