random stuff

[Detective_Quack]

 

[GoodPerson]

 

[GoodPerson]

I'm gonna spam more memes


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[GoodPerson]

 

[GoodPerson]

 

[GoodPerson]

 

[greyblob]

dont stare into the abyss @Detective_Quack

 

[melchi]

 

[GoodPerson]

 

[Detective_Quack]

 

[Detective_Quack]

 

[Tempokai]

A bedtime story about xianxia rivalries:

Spoiler

Once upon a time, or perhaps ten times considering the length of the feast, the renowned Moonlight Caravan Restaurant decided to push the boundaries of culinary indulgence by hosting a feast that would last ten days and nights. This was not just any feast, but a grandiose assembly of xianxia’s finest, most magical dishes. Among them, the star of the show: the Legendary Meadow Crab, a crustacean so divine that it was rumored to be the culinary reincarnation of a celestial dragon.

Now, in the world of Xianxia, where everything is infused with mystical energies and the daily annoyances include dodging flying swords or the occasional rogue beast sect rampaging through your cabbage patch, a ten-day feast was really just another Thursday. But this was no ordinary Thursday. This was a gastronomic extravaganza that had drawn the attention of two particularly notorious inner elders from the same secretive sect—Elder Ping and Elder Pong. No one really remembered their real names; the sect was too ancient and their deeds too numerous to bother with something as mundane as actual names.

Elder Ping and Elder Pong were not only famed for their nearly equivalent cultivation levels, which hovered somewhere between ‘Shockingly Powerful’ and ‘Do Not Poke with a Stick,’ but also for their intense rivalry. Whether it was vying for the last slice of phoenix feather pie or the deepest bow from the sect juniors, these two could make a competition out of breathing.

So, when the fabled Legendary Meadow Crab was placed at the center of the imperial jade dining table, under the soft glow of enchanted moonlight, it was inevitable that chopsticks would clash. The battle commenced without a word, their faces as expressionless as the stone lions guarding the sect library that nobody visited (because who reads when you can just ingest a memory pill?).

For seven days, the elders’ chopsticks danced a ballet of precision and aggression, each move a silent symphony of intent and counter-intent. They hovered over the dish, feinting and parrying like swordsmen, their weapons merely two pairs of elegantly lacquered bamboo sticks. It was a silent battle—so silent, in fact, that the other guests continued to gorge themselves on dishes like the Comet Tail Soup and the Galaxy Noodle without noticing the epic struggle occurring right beside them.

The tension peaked on the seventh day, just as the restaurant was preparing to unveil the dessert course—a simple platter of mooncakes that looked suspiciously like they might contain actual pieces of the moon. In a final, desperate gambit to secure a piece of the Legendary Meadow Crab, both elders lunged with their chopsticks. There was a moment of utter silence, the kind that usually precedes something either miraculous or disastrous.

And then, snap.

Both pairs of chopsticks broke. The crab, untouched and perhaps smugly aware of its status, remained at the center of the table. The sudden sound of snapping bamboo was enough to finally draw the attention of the other diners, just in time to see Elder Ping and Elder Pong staring at each other, each holding half a chopstick.

The restaurant owner, a wizened old gourmet who had seen enough cultivation drama to last several lifetimes, sighed deeply and did what any self-respecting restaurateur would do in the face of property damage: he kicked both elders out. No crab for you, the unspoken message clear as they were unceremoniously shown the exit.

Ejected into the cool night air, with the feast’s laughter echoing behind them, Elder Ping looked at Elder Pong, and Pong at Ping. For the first time in what might have been centuries, they shared a look that wasn’t charged with competitive fire.

“Perhaps we should have just split it,” muttered Elder Ping, staring mournfully at his broken chopstick.

“Next time, we order two crabs,” Elder Pong agreed, and they both nodded, already plotting their return for the next feast. Because if there’s one thing more boundless than the mystic energies of Xianxia, it’s an elder’s appetite for both revenge and legendary seafood.