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.

 

[melchi]

 

[J_Chemist]

 

[J_Chemist]

 

[J_Chemist]

 

[Tempokai]

A bedtime story about burger craving:

Spoiler

In the ethereal realm of shadow and light, there exists an interdimensional nexus that serves as a crossroads for all sorts of celestial and nefarious beings. It’s a place not unlike the waiting room of an overpriced dentist, where the glossy magazines are replaced with the fabric of reality, waiting to be thumbed through and occasionally torn. And in this metaphysical bus station, there was one shadow that stood out among the rest - a being of such powerful darkness that light bent around him in sheer terror, or perhaps in an attempt to avoid a conversation. His name was unpronounceable by human tongues, mostly because it sounded like someone trying to beatbox while underwater.

On a day that could only be described as “Thursday-ish” in cosmic terms, our darkly dramatic protagonist decided to step out of his usual haunt for a little snack. A craving had hit him, a longing that not even the eldritch cookbooks of yore could satisfy. He desired… a Whopper.

Materializing from the shadows in a manner that was intended to be terrifying but was about as alarming as a slightly aggressive pigeon, he stepped into the glaring fluorescence of a local Burger King. His presence caused a dramatic gust of wind that blew promotional leaflets all over the linoleum floor, much to the janitor’s dismay.

Standing at a towering height, wings unfurled like a gothic umbrella, he approached the counter. The cashier, a seventeen-year-old named Dave who was more concerned with his rapidly dwindling break time than the manifestation of darkness before him, barely lifted his eyes from the register.

“Welcome to Burger King, can I take your order?” Dave mumbled, the sheer monotony of his voice could lull a caffeinated squirrel to sleep.

“I require sustenance!” boomed the shadowy figure, his voice echoing with the gravitas of a thousand existential crises. “One Whopper, with cheese!”

Dave, unfazed as only a teenager earning minimum wage could be, tapped on the screen and sighed. “Wanna make it a combo meal?”

The shadow-being paused, considering the question with the severity of a chess grandmaster in sudden death overtime. “Yes. A combo meal fit for the voracious void of my being. And… a Diet Coke. I’m watching my figure.”

“As you wish, lord of darkness. That’ll be $6.99, please drive through to the next window,” Dave intoned, with the practiced apathy of someone who had seen too many TikTok trends come and go.

With a flourish of his shadowy cloak, which was really quite unnecessary given the circumstances, the figure reached into the abyss and pulled out a crumpled ten-dollar bill. He handed it over, his fingers brushing Dave’s, imparting a chill that was more effective than the restaurant's malfunctioning air conditioning.

Dave gave him his change, and our protagonist floated regally to the pick-up window. The rest of the patrons watched in a mixture of awe and confusion, questioning whether they had accidentally ingested some of that questionable “new sauce” the establishment was trialing.

Thus, with his royal meal in hand, the shadowy entity returned to his realm, where he proceeded to unwrap his Whopper with the care of a child on Christmas morning. It was just another day in the universe, where even the embodiments of dread have to eat.

And Dave? Well, he just carried on, knowing full well that the realms of darkness offered no tips, and already dreading the tale he’d have to tell his mom when she asked how his day was.

 

[melchi]

 

[melchi]

 

[Detective_Quack]