#slightly angsty(?)

[goldenamaranthe-blog]

The Battered Dragon

Buckle up, buttercups. This is a long one.

Jaune: Soooo... (continues looking around at the "forest" around him) where do you guys think we are?

Ruby: I don't know. I honestly didn't think I'd find anyone that quickly. Even if half of the group was tied up my a village of mice.

Weiss: (plucking a thorn out of her sleeve)They were... craftier than I would have thought.

Blake: (ears wilt) It makes me wonder where Yang is, or if she's okay.

Weiss: (places a hand on Blake's shoulder comfortingly) I'm sure we'll find Yang. You have to remember that this is Yang we're talking about. If anyone can manage surviving in an unknown world filled with random dangers, I'd place the charred remains of the Schnee fortune on it.

Blake: (ears perk up slightly) Yeah, you're right.

Weiss: (watches as Ruby and Jaune discuss what steps they should take next) You know. When we find her, it might be a good idea to have a bit of a heart-to-heart with Yang.

Blake: (ears spring skyward) I-I don't know what you're talking about.

Weiss: Blake, you almost jumped off the platform after Yang. I dragged you off the literal brink, and you immediately went feral on Neo afterwards.

Blake: I'm that obvious, huh?

Weiss: To everyone except Yang herself... (watches as Ruby trips over a random tree root and pulls Jaune down to the ground with her) And maybe those two.

Blake: (chuckles softly)

Jaune: Hey! Do you guys think we'll see the Lively Carpenter or the Battered Dragon???

Ruby: The Battered Dragon? I don't remember that character from the story.

Blake: The Battered Dragon was a strong warrior that fought back the night in a fiery blaze, but was always warm and kind towards the people in the book.

Weiss: We're not in a storybook. But! If we were, I wouldn't mind meeting the Lively Carpenter. They were so sweet in the story.

Jaune: I remember the Battered Dragon was like a barbarian of sorts. Super cool and strong who fought with her fists.

Ruby: I don't remember Yang ever reading that character. Actually, I don't remember her reading me that story at all.

Jaune: Huh... That's odd. I would have though- (draws sword) INCOMIIIIIING!!!

Jabberwalker: (bounds through the canopy into the clearing and slashes at Jaune)

Ruby: Jaune! (pulls Jaune out of the way)

Blake: Ruby! (throws Gambol Shroud, wraps the ribbon around Ruby, and yanks her back)

Weiss: (glyph attacks Jabberwalker and blasts it back)

Jabberwalker: Seeking - Searching - Contacting - DEVOURING!!! (leaps towards the group and slashes at the group wildly)

RWBJ: (get tossed to the ground)

Jabberwalker: (tail whips Blake to pin her down and leaps onto her)

Blake: (blocks claws with her sword and struggles to keep the claw from her face)

RWJ: Blake!

??? : I said I wasn't done with you yet!!!

-Burning fireball of stone barrels in and slams against the Jabberwalker's head, shattering into a million smoldering pieces as molten rock oozes over spiral horns-

??? : (rugged, dark brown leather adorned with intricate patterns and fur trims, well-worn trousers and boots, tanned leather tank top with tatters at the hem where the bottom has been torn off, revealing muscular abs and a few battle scars, and a blazing heart tattoo on a well-endowed chest. Scarred left arm is on display, muscles rippling as powerful hands grab the Jabberwalker's horns, while a paint chipped, slightly rusted metallic right arm glints dully in the sunshine. A purple bandana tied off where the metal meets flesh. Black and brown leather hand armor and pauldron adorn the left shoulder and hand with golden brown/grey whisps of fur protrude from under the plates. Burning golden hair burn out in a long trail behind a scorched, wooden dragon mask)

??? : Did you honestly think I'd let you hurt anyone here? (punches Jabberwalker a few times in the face) Then you're crazier than I thought! (throws Jabberwalker over to the next acre)

RWBJ: (stare in shock)

Jaune: (gasps like an excited child) Oh, my gosh! It's the Battered Dragon!!!

Blake: The Battered Dragon! In PERSON!

Weiss: We're actually in a fairytale....

Battered Dragon: (panting before squaring her shoulders and turning to RWBJ) Dammit! (takes off her mask, revealing one lilac and one crimson eye and three scars on her jaw) You guys weren't supposed to be here.

Jaune: Is that...?

Weiss: Yang?

Ruby: (walks up to the Battered Dragon) Yang?

Battered Dragon: (shakes her head, dislodging the tears in her eyes before nodding firmly) Yeah, Rubes. It's me. And you guys weren't supposed to-

Ruby: (grabs Yang's hand tightly) If you didn't think we'd come looking for you, then you must have forgotten who raised me.

Battered Dragon Yang: (sniffs and holds Ruby's hand) Right. I'm just... glad to see you guys again after all this ti- PUAH!!!

Blake: (tackles BDY to the ground and hugs her tight) Yang~

Battered Dragon Yang: (shocked eyes glance at Blake briefly before tears slip from her eyes, her nose wrinkles in an attempt to keep from crying, and she breaks. Arms wrap around Blake like a lifeline) It's actually you....

Weiss: (after a few minutes) Yang, what happened to you?

Battered Dragon Yang: It's... a long story...

[sgt-bell]

🍑

@sgt-legrant

OC's Background Relationship Ask Game

🍑 - Notable flings

Oh, askin' the juicy questions I see... Fair dinkum. Er... Lets see.

This girl back home, Chloe. Beautiful girl, stunning. She's a barmaid at the local watering hole. We hook up when I'm home - I am PUNCHING above my weight.

Nah, yeah, I like the girl, I really do, but... She wants to settle down and have a family back in Orange, and me? I'm not really interested in staying out in the middle of bum-fuck nowhere my whole life. So it's best I don't pursue that.

I do hope she gets what she wants. She deserves it.

[call-me-strega]

I was listening to to Proud Corazón from Coco and I was suddenly struck with the image of a soft Hispanic!Jason Todd singing this song to his family:

With Catherine on one of her good days

To Bruce, Alfred and Dick on a holiday

Under his breath on the plane to Ethiopia

Humming it with great difficulty, trying to comfort himself as his vision goes black

Serenading a baby Damian while in the League

Hauntingly in alleyways to taunt Batman

Forging bonds with the new members of his family when they make up

Teaching it to a kid/kids he either adopts or has with a partner

~

We’ll dang I made myself sad. I didn’t think this stream of thought would get so angsty but I can’t forget it now.

[beyondthegame]

Hi Mila!! "immediately looking at the other after telling/doing something funny in hope to see their smile" for Milan?? I hope you have a wonderful day btw, love u!

Your life is a little different now. You remember the day you signed for Inter City, the day that very literally changed your life. The media are much more interested in your life now, both on and off the pitch.

“What are you doing after training tomorrow?” you ask Milan.

The two of you are walking from your home to your local supermarket. Though you’ve thrown the question in Milan’s direction, you have a brief idea of the answer.

“Um, to the airport and then a flight to New York,” they answer before glancing over at you. “Are you going to miss me?”

You hum a little. “You know I will.”

The response breaks Milan’s heart a little. It’s bittersweet. It’s nice to hear, but whenever that question is asked by either of you there’s usually a joke attached to it.

But when the two of you are serious like this it means something. Your careers are putting a strain on the two of you.

“Hey,” Milan says softly, bringing you to a stop. They slip a hand into yours. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

Your eyes stay locked on your tangled fingers. It’s not like this is the first time you’ve held each other’s hands. It’s not the first time you’ve stood so closely to one another.

So why is your heart racing? Why do you suddenly feel like keeping Milan as close possible?

You quickly clear your throat. “I know.” You smile a little. “What do you want me to say? That I’ll be counting down the days to see you?” you tease.

Milan squeezes your hand. “Well, I definitely will.” They let go before taking a little step back, as if they’ve just realised that they may have stepped past the territory of being friends.

“Oh my gosh! You’re Milan St. Clair!” a random voice calls out. The two of you turn and find someone who looks like a teenager running towards you. “And you! You play for Inter City.”

They’ve ruined the moment between you and Milan a little. You can feel it, but the smile on the teenager’s face is evident.

“Uh, yes,” you say, “to both.”

The teenager practically bounces from foot to foot. “I hope you win the US Open, Milan!” they say, causing the tennis player to grin.

“I hope so too.” Milan’s gentle hand suddenly ends up on the small of your back. That goddamn comforting feeling again. “I can’t take my good luck charm with me though.”

They mean you.

You turn to them, seeing that they’re already looking at you. “You think I’m your good luck charm?”

Milan’s dark brown eyes shine a little. “Course I do. You’re my partner after all.”

[chucklee118]

I've had this headcanon for a while about Iruma's absolute dodging ability.

I know it's generally not the sort of manga where it'd happen, but I predict that the first time Iruma takes on serious or possibly even lasting damage will be because he takes on a hit that would have otherwise hurt one of his friends.

[honmyoseagull]

(My shoulder is still killing me when I type, so, late and probably only offer for the Monthly Minekura Christmas challenge. Too bad, Seemed like such a nice challenge @monthlyminekura was offering. I loved when it crossed my dash.)

Obviously late for Day 1: Bells

Fanfic - Saiyuki Gaiden.

Jingle in Paradise

Sekai, down below, is a messy place, a chaotic place. This is why dreams exist, some divinities surmise, to allow the pathetic creatures living there to try and make sense of their absurd world and meaningless lives in their sleep…

Whereas Tenkai? Beautiful. Quiet. Orderly and perfect. Souls are blessed and untroubled, there.

Therefore, kamis don’t dream.

(Usually.)

For a while, Kenren-taishou hadn’t even had the words for this fake reality invading his sleep and leaving behind a strange taste to his waking hours…

Always the same images.

The overpowering sound of the falling rain, its cold hitting his bare shoulders as he walks. Darkness, the road, the man on the ground. Lying there, face down. Bleeding. He knows who it is. At once. Kenren just… knows. And when the wounded man reveals his face, and smiles… It’s even worse to be proven right.

Waking up, heart pounding, breathing hard. Reaching for the pack of cigarettes to chase the smell of wet earth and metallic blood still very present in his nostrils… It’s his morning routine, now…

Yume. He’s found the word in one of Tenpou’s beloved books. Dream.

But having a name to put on the phenomena doesn’t really help. So he distracts himself some other ways, accepts to run ridiculous errands for Tenpou on Earth below to fill his days between military missions and duties. So he forgets to sleep. (After all, kamis don’t really need to.)

That day, when he comes back home, with a small stock of Tenpou’s favourite cigarette’s brand, he’s in a reasonably high mood. Doesn’t even knock before making his way into Tenpou’s library. Still stops dead, though.

Obviously a tree standing in Tenpou’s office is not the weirdest thing Kenren-taishou has seen in his superior officer’s place. Plus he’s the one who got ropped into dragging it in here a few days ago, so, there’s that. (Yes, Tenpou had tried to explain. No, Kenren is still not sure he gets this Sekai “Chrissmass” thing and the point of it. Though he kinda liked the way the word had curled the marshal’s lips, so unfamiliar on his tongue, and the twinkle of delight it created in the man’s green eyes.) What’s more incongruous is the treatment Goku is inflicting on it. He must have zoned out when Tenpou explained, because he can’t fathom why the gaki is basically dressing the poor piece of vegetation in tinsel and adorning it with shiny stuff…

While the kid, back to him and still unaware of his presence, chatters his heart out to his Ten-chaaaaan!, asking of him his thoughts on his efforts, Tenpou stands right there, a faint contented smile floating on his lips and curling around an unlit cigarette.

Kenren sighs indulgently (he sometimes suspects Tenpou would forget his head weren’t it attached to his body), drops his package on a low table and draws closer to his superior officer in order to offer him his lighter.

Tenpou, after bending his neck a little to meet the flame, smiles his thanks, expression for once uncomplicated and somewhat almost blinding for it.

Kenren reflexively smiles back.

“Tadaima,” the general says, a tad too soft.

“Okaeri,” Tenpou replies, oddly solemn, and oh-so warm…

And sometimes, they just don’t need more words. Both lapse into silence, watching Goku have his fun.

There’s a soft sound, then, that comes from a corner of the room. The one of a page turned.

Oh, the blond grouch his there, too.

Curled on Tenpou’s office chair, his long legs tucked under him in a slightly bizarre way, at Tenpou’s desk, nose deep in one of Tenpou’s books. Kenren can’t help but think he’s out of place here. But where would Konzen-douji be if not far from his little charge, right?

Must have felt the weight of the general’s gaze, too, because the blond sourpuss raises his eyes after a few seconds.

His nose does this frowning thing, and Konzen glares a bit, too, as if he objected to the just lit cigarettes: he has a vague gesture of the hand as if to chase the delicate smoke that hasn’t even reached him yet, Kenren is sure.

Heaven forbid Konzen would look like he was enjoying himself being here, right, once he’d noticed he was watched…

But Kenren had seen.

For once there’d been this inabitual bubble of calm around Kanzeon-bosatsu’s nephew, very unlike this ever present buzz of irritation surrounding the man at any given time that often gets under Kenren’s skin.

The general could go at it, needle the man a bit. Changes his mind, though, and turns his attention back to Tenpou.

“Hey,” he simply calls, reaching for something tiny in his leather coat’s pocket and throwing it in the marshal’s direction.

He brings back little odd things from down below Tenpou hasn’t asked for, sometimes. Can’t help it, the marshal is so easily delighted…

The marshal snatches it from mid-air without much effort, in spite of his sloppy appearance. People forget, sometimes, that Tenpou is a soldier, a very good fighter at that, with the good reflexes it entails.

In his palm, a little sphere, something golden and delicately inlaid, with only a tiny slit on the metal and a tiny little ring to hang it, probably. Tenpou grabs it with two fingers to raise it closer to his eyes.

And they have drawn the kid’s attention too, now :

“A new christmas ornament? How did you know!” Goku exclaims, already reaching for the little thing.

But Kenren grabs him by the scruff of his scrawny neck. He loves the kid. To pieces. Still… and it feels ridiculous to say it out loud, but :

“It was for you,” he tells the marshal who was about to let the itan child have the gift. “It sings,” he awkwardly adds, then.

With his chibi saru-free hand, the general sends a finger nudge the thing in Tenpou’s grasp, and as he knew it would, the little ball hidden inside the golden shell moves, eliciting a delicate little sound.

“Yes, it would be wasted, just hanging still on a branch,” the marshal eventually acquiesces, brows already furrowed in reflexion, eyes invisible behind the harsh reflexion off his glasses. And without warning, he’s a flurry of activity. In three strides, he’s near a startled Konzen, reaching over him for a drawer, fishing into it, of all things, for a little ball of thin but solid wire and a little pincer.

It takes him hardly three seconds to figure out a way to fasten the sphere on the wire and create a little hook at the other end. Then, the marshal’s hands fly to the side of his head.

Not even a hint of hesitation, and he’s piercing skin and flesh pushing the metal through the little round part, till the gold orb hangs at his ear.

Kenren stays stunned for a full second. He hadn’t seen this one coming. But in the little things like the big, Tenpou is sometimes reckless to a point that could scare a lesser man than the general. (Who he is he kidding? Totally and indubitably scares him when he ventures to think about it.)

“What do you think? You said it was for me, right?” Tenpou says, smiling a bit like a proud loon around this cigarette he has managed to keep between his lips all along. He turns his head a little on his slender neck to show off, and a little ringing sound comes out the little sphere as if to gently underline the gesture.

It allows for Kenren’s hand to find the side of this face, on the pretence of angling it for a better sight.

A pearl of redness gathers at the puncture wound and collapses on itself, truly miniscule rivulet down the abused lobe.

It’s  nothing, but it’s like a jolt to Kenren…

And the familiar images come, unbidden, while he’s still wide awake this time.

The overpowering sound of the falling rain, its cold hitting his bare shoulders—

Gravity makes its office, and the scarlet drop hits the shoulder of Tenpou’s labcoat. (Shocking) little flower.

“Chi.” Goku says, his little face raised to them. Tone odd.

There’s something in the way the kid’s nostril flare. Something flinty, for a second, obscures his golden gaze, suddenly metallic instead of warm. He’s like a different being for a second, one who could could inspire terror.

But the flash on the gaki’s features is so brief it feels like Kenren has just imagined this, that he can blame his already frayed nerves…

And the general doesn’t know what takes over him. He gathers the marshal to him by way of grabbing his labcoat, and leans in, on an impulse, towards the man. Till his lips are on Tenpou’s earlobe. The iron-y salt of blood and the tiniest hint of a real metal’s taste mingle on his tongue. He feels his officer still. And tense. Tenpou’s hand is suddenly on his arm, its message unclear. Stop. Or… Don’t you dare stop. Kenren wouldn’t know. Maybe Tenpou doesn’t either.

Goku, oblivious anew, saves them from public awkwardness, dragging his Ten-chan back to their tree… Since they are not conversing anymore, it must be alright for him to get back his friend to keep him to himself.

Kenren decides not to acknowledge how suddenly bereft he feels.

Also, now it’s on his tongue that the taste of blood lingers.

The overpowering sound of the falling rain, its cold hitting his bare shoulders, the darkness the road and the dying man, bleeding and smi—

Stop, the general tells himself, feeling uneasy. Now the dark thoughts hunt him even awake… What the hell is happening to him?

He feels a gaze on him and, whip-sharp, his head turns on his neck, catching Konzen’s eyes.

It’s a frown subtly different from the usual scowl, on the blond’s face. More considering. Almost… worried. And directed at him.

How odd, Kenren thinks.

But already the divine bureaucrat is averting his eyes. He has surprised Konzen’s eyes on him, and the blond god is probably as embarrassed at having been caught looking as Kenren himself is by his own lapse of attention, by how he has let his own discomfort show…

But he’s a soldier. He knows tactics. He knows… diversion.

He pastes his patented shit-eating grin on his face, and with a jerk of his chin, indicates Tenpou.

“Ever told you how I met him, Goldie?” And Konzen frowns a little, not entirely duped but curious nonetheless. “Came into his office and found him buried under piles of his own books.”

The great Konzen-douji can’t help a particularly unelegant snort.

“That would have been such a stupid way to lose him,” Konzen manages to offer. His book is definitively forgotten on his crossed legs.

“Heh. There an intelligent way?” Kenren needles.

It’s a just glance, that’s thrown his way. A flash of violet. But with a might and a steel you wouldn’t be used to, thinking of the spoiled nephew of the great Kanzeon-bosatsu. Surpringly, it cows Kenren the tiniest little bit.

“Yeah, no way we’re losing Tenpou,” the general weakly agrees, hardly above a whisper. Because the alternative is unthinkable. “Not that this itan kid of yours is better anyway at staying out of trouble,” he still feels the need to retaliate.

Over there near the tree, the marshal is giving a boost to the heretic child in question so he can reach the higher branches. Tenpou’s move makes the little sphere at his ear tinkle again.

It derails them both a little:

“Like a bell on a cat,” Konzen unexpectedly comments, and there’s something speculative in his gaze as it then flies to his charge, like it gives him an idea, and in a way, Kenren gets why. How tempting it would be to be able to always know where the kid is, be sure to be able not to lose him.

Kenren has spoken about this with Tenpou more than once. They’re just like Konzen. The three of them feel it, that unclear menace gathering around this kid. Even in this perfect place Heaven is supposed to be.

When has Paradise stopped being Paradise?

But then Goku says something that unexpectedly wrenches a surprised laugh out of Tenpou, and as the marshal’s body shakes in delighted mirth and he throws his head back, the little bell once again jingles.

And for a second, Kenren is able to forget the disturbing thoughts. He just drinks the sight.

Tenkai is paradise once again. A place where souls are supposed to be blessed and untroubled.

The End

[asukamood]

School Supplies (fmaa2)

***

It is almost time for me to go back to the terrestrial hell that we call school. I thought that I might as well write something about it before I disappear.

This is going to be about the Creepypasta Squad again, Bobby is 15 in this au much like Bunny in Fatal Flaws. The new school year is approaching, and he will now be entering high school.

***

Warnings: Strong language

Synopsis: “... By the way Bobby, did you remember to take your list of supplies?” Bobby rolled his eyes as he held up the sheet of paper for his brother Hacker to see.

“Of course, I did, who do you take me fo--”

“And did you remember to take a pen with you to cross out the things we already bought?”

Silence.

“Joy.” Hacker grumbled as Randy merely smiled in amusement.

***

They have not even stepped foot outside of the house that Bobby had already opened the rant floods about what he called ‘juvenile prison.’ His rants had gotten so frequent in fact that Randy was starting to wonder if he should make Bobby change schools.

Though, when he introduced the idea to Hacker, the latter only waved the remark back with the back of his hand. He said not to tire themselves out trying to find a school that might fit Bobby’s taste.

“All schools are the same.” He had said, half-amused and half-annoyed. “He’ll never be happy in any of them.” The way he said it concerned him, but he supposed he could not force him to say anything he wanted to.

Though, that still did not fix the current issue he was having.

“Middle school sucked balls!” The teenager fumed; aura murderous as he completely ignored Randy’s small sigh at the profanity. “There is no way that high school is going to be any better! Hell, I bet that people are going to be even bigger bitches!”

Hacker was absolutely dying to give him reason as his years in high school were one of the worst ones he had ever gone through, second only to being kidnapped by a criminal gang, but for all their sake, he did his best to swallow that urge.

“Who knows?” He said instead of vigorous agreement. “Perhaps, by some miracle, age would make them more mature.” Bobby scoffed at that.

“Yeah, and surely I’ll grow wings when I turn 18.” He crossed his arms around his chest as he walked in front of the two others, ignoring people's weirded out looks as he kept on rambling loudly about how infuriating his classmates have been thus far.

“Son, please. Do not speak so loudly, you are disturbing the other people.” Randy lightly scolded. Bobby rolled his eyes at the remark but still seemed to listen as his voice quieted down.

“They wouldn’t understand my suffering.” Frankly speaking, having never gone to school Randy had no idea if Bobby was being totally genuine or being totally dramatic.

It was not like Britney ever complained about it.

Randy shook his head as the thought passed through his head.

He could think of them another day, he had to focus on his two boys first.

Thankfully for both Randy and Hacker, the car soon came into view.

“Hey, Bobby’s going to be able to get his driving license soon, right?” Hacker suddenly remarked, the door to the front seat opened. “Why don’t we let him ride in that seat for now? From my experience, you learn quite a lot by just observing what is going on.”

Randy thought about it for a few minutes before finally nodding in agreement. “You have a point, does that bother you son?”

“Not at all!” Bobby responded happily before quickly jumping into the seat, slamming the door on Hacker. The latter gave him an unamused glare before sitting down in the other seat.

Honestly speaking, he could not care less about all that driving license stuff, he just wanted to sit in the front seats.

Randy probably saw right through him, but he did not comment as he started the car. The vehicle vibrated as it woke up before leaving the parking lot in silence.

“... By the way Bobby, did you remember to take your list of supplies?” Bobby rolled his eyes as he held up the sheet of paper for his brother Hacker to see.

“Of course, I did, who do you take me fo--”

“And did you remember to take a pen with you to cross out the things we already bought?”

Silence.

“Joy.” Hacker grumbled as Randy merely smiled in amusement.

***

Finally, after numerous distractions of Randy asking if the boys were hungry and trying to buy them some snacks, they arrived at the target aisle. Shelves beyond sight stood, filled with numerous items one dreaded to look at the prices of lied way beyond what a wallet liked to see.

School bags, pencils, pencil sharpeners, ink pens, art supplies, textbooks... they were everywhere, taunting Bobby and reminding him that he had in fact, less than two weeks before he was back in the land of no return if we do not count the holidays as one.

Posters of supposed sales framed the aisles, the logo of the store plastered on the banners in big font as a dumb quote “We make your purchases for school supplies easier!” gazed down upon them, a –30% or –50% sticker glued to the banner under several pictures of myriad items.

God, it made him sick.

Randy gazed upon the shelves and held his head with one hand as he sighed. “We may do this every year, but it sure feels like this gets more overwhelming as the time goes by.”

“It’s not just you.” Hacker raised an eyebrow as his eyes swept over the list. “Looks like it’s the same as when I went to high school, there isn’t really a list, it’s just like, three sentences basically telling you to go fuck yourself and do it on your own.”

“Huh?” Bobby, who had been debating between two Minecraft planners turned toward Hacker, an eyebrow raised. “What are you talking about? There is a list, it’s right under.”

“Bobby, that’s the list for 8th graders.”

“...Oh.” Hacker facepalmed. “Agh, whatever! Which one do you guys think I should pick? The Creeper one or the Enderman one?”

Randy tapped his chin in thought as he looked back and forth between the two. After a few seconds, he finally made his choice and pointed toward the Creeper one. “I think these colors match you.”

Bobby nodded. “Okay, thanks!” He dumped it in the cart, the first of many items to come. Even if he was not the one paying, Hacker was already dreading to see the exorbitant price that all those items will cost.

“What do we have to get next?” Hacker folded the ‘list’ before letting it fall in the cart alongside the planner like the long-lost forgotten feather of an ill bird. He crossed his arms.

“You’re the one who will tell us. In high school, you’re your own boss when it comes to supply. If you use folders, a document organizer or textbooks is all up to you. Personally, I always used document organizers because it was most practical for me, but we are different so really, you do you.” As Hacker’s words left his lips, Bobby frowned as he tried to visualize himself using all the items the former enumerated.

Randy scratched his neck, not quite knowing what to do.

“Well, we can think about that stuff later, right? There were still a few items listed on the paper if I remember correctly.” Hacker nodded.

“Yeah, there was that new calculator and all the basic stuff like ink and paper sheets.”

“Great, we can look for them first before we get to the complicated stuff then! What do you think about that son?” He turned toward Bobby, who nodded.

“Yeah sure, I’ll still try to think about it though.” Randy clasped his hands together as he walked blindly to another aisle.

“Great, let’s get going then!” An awkward Hacker called out to him.

“Uh, Randy, you’re walking to the gardening aisle.”

He looked at the shelves in front of him and sure enough, there were a few watering cans displayed with various price tags hanging above them. “... Oops!”

***

“God! We finally found it!” Bobby snatched the carefully wrapped calculator from the shelf aggressively, glaring daggers into it as if it had personally offended him and insulted his father. “We’ve been looking for this for so long!”

“I feel like you may be overreacting, son.” Randy calmly pointed out as he took the calculator from Bobby’s hands and examined its appearance. “It looks more polished than your last one and more complicated to use as well.”

“That’s because the one he was using in middle school was strictly limited to straight forward calculations, but this little baby can draw curves or even let you write programs with it.” Hacker explained as he looked over Randy’s elbow. “That also explains the rather high price.”

“The price?” Bobby raised an eyebrow as he looked at the price tag displayed on the shelf. “HOLY SHIT ALMOST NINETY EUROS FOR THIS CALCULATOR ALONE?”

Randy winced. “Not so loud, son.”

“My bad.” He quickly apologized, trying to get over what he had just read.

“It’s expensive but it’s so worth it.” He straightened up again. “I would have given you mine, but the old hag dumped it who knows where. I can still teach you how to use it.”

Bobby stuck his tongue out. “As if I would want to be taught anything that has to do with mathematics.”

“Well, with this calculator you can use cheat sheets--” Hacker began before Randy clicked his tongue in warning. A stern look on his face. Hacker sighed. “You can play Minecraft on it.”

Bobby’s eyes suddenly seemed to turn into stars. “Really?!”

Hacker nodded in confirmation. “Yeah, the controls are a bit more complicated, but you can.”

“When we go back home, you must teach me how to! No question asked and I don’t care if you have work!” Bobby excitedly and Hacker shook his head in amusement, a small smile twitching on his lips.

“Fine, since I have no choice but to.”

Randy looked at his two children with a small smile before his gaze dropped to the calculator still in his hands.

Britney would have been delighted to hear that as well.

[lillykatt1273]

Have some art I made while feeling angsty ah hell sorry I haven't posted in awhile I was once again busy with life

[strangerstilinski]

𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: eddie in blue jeans. eddie leaking in blue jeans. eddie cumming in blue jeans. that's it, that's the fic. [ 2.9k ]

𝗰𝘄: reader with a vagina & breasts, 1 occurrence where reader refers to themselves as a girl, overuse of italics probably, other than that we just have heaping doses of heavy petting, grinding, and kissing. oh! and a certain someone cumming in his pants ofc

𝗮/𝗻: imo the second half of this is where i reaaally shined, ok? there's just... something so *clenches fist* about eddie who's so turned on by you that he's stupid with it. anyway, thank you for reading! xx and remember to reblog to make eddie cum <3

𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖𝟏𝟖+ 𝙚𝙙𝙙𝙞𝙚 𝙢𝙪𝙣𝙨𝙤𝙣 𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

The curls at the nape of Eddie's neck are damp where they tangle around your fingers. His breath rolls out in hot waves against your tongue, full, spit-slick lips moving eagerly against your own. Eddie is kissing you like he thinks he might die without the taste of you, fervent and hungry and seemingly determined to stake some sort of claim on your mouth. 

You've only been at it for five minutes but, seriously, how in the hell did normal people ever make it through an entire evening without devouring their date? Either they are far stronger than you, or it's the power of something you'd simply dubbed The Eddie Munson Effect.

Regardless, you're feeling beyond desperate. 

Because you'd had to watch every single stumbling step Eddie made throughout the evening as he quite literally tripped over his own feet in a rush to open doors for you. He'd done so with all of his usual awkward charm, arm extended with gentlemanly grandeur — and on one occasion, he'd even bent at the waist into an adorably courteous little bow as he'd waited for you to step through. Each time, his hand found the small of your waist, and while he would linger a second longer than was strictly necessary, his touch always remained polite and comforting, never bleeding into the possessive brand that you'd noticed beneath the hands of men in the past.

Then again, every brush of Eddie's fingers over the course of the evening had sent sparks down your spine. 

There'd been one moment, when the wind had caught the hem of your skirt and sent it billowing up — you'd felt the cool air rush all the way up to the sliver of tummy above your underwear — but Eddie's hands had been quick to find your waist, smoothing the fabric back down over your thighs and holding it there for a beat. Thick fingers and clunky silver rings had hesitated on your hips until the breeze died down, and then Eddie's face had gone red in a way that had little to do with the chill in the air, and entirely more to do with the sudden realization of how close you were, how intimate the brush of his pinky was against the warm skin at the back of your thigh. 

And you absolutely had to take into account the condition in which he'd showed up on your doorstep. With a crisp white tshirt tucked neatly into the waistband of light-wash jeans. His hair shining lightly with gel, curls coiled in slightly neater than usual ringlets. With his jaw shaved smooth, and his skin smelling sharply of a rich, woodsy aftershave or cologne that gave you butterflies every time you breathed in.

Then there was the way each and every hearty chuckle that he'd let out over the course of the evening had curled in your ears and proceeded to pool pleasantly in your gut. The way every dramatic story retelling had left you fully enraptured right from the start. The way  every dimpled grin had practically sucked the air straight from your lungs. And your ever-deepening feelings for him had only solidified with each of his stuttered attempts to accept your compliments.

All evening long, you'd been eager to fast-forward, to get right here. Home, on your couch, thighs splayed wide over the cradle of Eddie's lap, skin flushed with heat, with your skirt rucked up and your sweater steadily slipping down your shoulder. 

And now that you're here, Eddie's hands have undertaken the impossible task of clutching at every part of you at once. Ringed fingers rake down your back only to grab ahold of your ass to drag you more heavily into his lap. Your teeth catch on his lower lip when he forces your hips to roll in a staggered rhythm, shaky thrusts driving his own hips up and slotting the bulge in his jeans just where you needed it to relieve some of the pressure between your thighs. 

You both gasp into the kiss at the friction that the poorly-synchronized movements are making. The rough chafe of his zipper and denim against the cotton of your panties is only just shy of being too much. It's delicious. 

"Y-your roommate-" Eddie pulls away to stutter against your cheek. 

"Out." You supply in a rush before your mouths are crashing together again like magnets. 

Eddie makes a small noise in the back of his throat, a satisfied sort of drawn-out groan that has your head spinning. You can still taste the lingering traces of the cigarette he'd smoked during the short walk back to his van, and the breath mint that he'd popped into his mouth immediately after. The mingling flavors are enough to give you a headrush. As if the combination of mint and nicotine were absorbing straight into your bloodstream merely from licking it from his mouth. But, maybe that has more to do with the way Eddie is kissing you-

Eddie seems to approach kissing with the same over-abundance of heart and enthusiasm that he does with literally everything else. Plush lips work against your own, smoothly encouraging your mouth open for him every time you dare to draw back for a quick breath. It's a perfect give and take, an intoxicating push and pull that you had zero qualms about getting lost in. 

This has always been your favorite part of foreplay. The slow-building desperation. The shared breaths. The wandering hands. The heated teasing that you felt pulsing in your clit and all the way down to your toes. It's something you normally relish in drawing out as long as possible, until your panties are soaked through and your lips are sore, but, fuck-

You can feel how hard Eddie is growing beneath you. The warmth of his cock burns all the way through his jeans until you swear you can feel it against your cunt and inner thighs— Until you swear you can nearly distinguish the sheer heat of the blood swelling his erection from the less-oppressive warmth emanating from his legs. And when his mouth trails down the line of your jaw to kiss and nip at your throat, you can't help but attempt to sneak a peek at the arousal you've drawn out of him.

The sight doesn't disappoint. 

His bulge stretches all the way from the bottom of the zip on his jeans and across the crease of his thigh. The obvious curve of his shaft straining against its tight confines stretches across his left thigh and then tapers out at the head of his cock—Jesus, he’s huge—and if you squint, you think you might even be able to make out a small spot, no more than the size of pea, where the light wash denim looks just a bit, well, wet. And, holy shit. 

It's drool-worthy. It's so hot. Your mouth might genuinely be watering just looking at it-

Oh, god. You really needed to kiss him just a little longer. You were certainly not about to be the girl who drops to their knees to suck a guy's dick within ten measly minutes of getting through the front door on a first goddamn date. That would be ridiculous. 

You'd make it at least twenty, surely — Maybe fifteen. 

In the meantime, more kissing. And that would be all too easy with the way Eddie's hands slip lower along the curve of your ass as he finds your mouth again. His fingers burying deeper into your flesh, rings biting with a sharp pinch that makes you keen and release an encouraging moan. 

There's a fire building behind your clit with every drag of your hips. You feel deranged beneath the haze of your lust, but Eddie only seems to be matching your need every step of the way. 

You've never seen him quite so out of control. So desperate, and God it's a beautiful sight. 

Eddie's spine arches forward from the back of the couch to push his chest to your own. Your hips stutter, driving down against the bulge in his jeans. The hard line of his cock wedges neatly at your center, fighting against the oppressive barrier of your underwear and his jeans. Dull as it is, it gives the barest hint as to what it would be like to have him actually pressing into your aching cunt, stretching you out. 

Just the thought makes your hips buck, little rolls of your hips re-doubling in effort. The pressure against your entrance has you whining pitifully as Eddie's tongue strokes over yours. One of those gorgeous, wide palms of his moves up to your jaw to hold your face steady as he attempts to swallow up your sounds. 

"Eddie." You pant brokenly, a plea. Because you're trying, really, but fuck. If you didn't get him inside of you — in one way or another — in the next few minutes, you very well might lose your mind.

Your fingers wind tighter into his hair, nails scraping against his scalp in that soft way that makes Eddie's cock jump in his pants. 

And the noises you're making.. 

They're better than any song Eddie has ever heard in his entire life, high and needy and so fucking hot. Every little sound has Eddie's thighs flexing beneath you in an attempt to keep his erection pressed snug to your cunt, to push the intoxicating ebb and flow that the two of you have going over into something more. Into a constant, blissful friction. 

Another minute of the heavy grind of your pussy over his lap has Eddie's cock twitching again, his balls tightening up and his brain growing too foggy to hold back the needy whimpers that rise in his own throat. 

“Shit-” Eddie gasps, his voice gone raspy with need. 

You murmur something in response that gets muffled by Eddie's lips and tongue. Something about wanting his cock on your tongue but also possibly inside your pussy — The details are unclear. Eddie has no idea which exactly you're angling toward, but he's ready to bust already and you're both still fully-clothed, so. He's just praying to Ozzy that he'll even make it that far. 

He probably needs to take a breather, and really he's going to, but then your hips stutter and you let out the sweetest little moan and Eddie kind of goes dumb with it.

He's too far gone to hear the telltale rattle of keys against your front door, or the click of the lock that has your own head snapping up toward the doorway in surprise. You stiffen above him, your ass driving down against his cock as your movements come to a halt and your weight drops heavily into his lap. 

And shit, he'd already been fucking throbbing in his jeans. The new pressure on his erection is just too much. 

A small noise of shock and pleasure tears from Eddie's throat, a pathetic sounding thing that makes your cunt clench around absolutely nothing and a rush of arousal soak the cotton of your panties. His lips part beneath your own unmoving ones, his jaw gone slack around the broken moan that falls into the heat of your mouth. 

Eddie's hips buck up sharply, fingers biting meanly into your hips as warmth floods his briefs, cock twitching and eyes rolling back as he shakes through the quick waves of his orgasm. His brain is pure static, ears ringing with such strength that your nervous laugh and stammered greeting sound far off despite you being pressed so close to him. Everything sounded just a bit like he was underwater. 

His head clears a little as you brace your hands on his shoulders and push yourself up, his eyes popping open as the distance between you grows and the warmth of your body disappears altogether. You're smiling awkwardly, laughing despite yourself, with your gaze locked somewhere over his shoulder as you attempt to smooth out the wrinkles in your skirt — and then Eddie finally processes the sound of Robin's voice in the entryway behind him. 

Oh. Oh, fuck. 

Eddie's heart had already been beating heavily, but suddenly he swears he can feel each and every rhythmic pump of the blood in his veins. The strength of it makes his pulse thump so violently in the hollow of his throat that his eye might've been twitching in time with each beat. 

His gaze drops to his lap, where, to his horror, light blue denim is already a few shades darker. His cum is already soaking through his underwear and very, very quickly spreading into a wider, far more noticeable wet patch, and Jesus fucking Christ, this cannot be happening to him-

He tugs at his pant-leg desperately in an attempt to draw the fabric away from where the cum had pooled in the crease of his pelvis and then dripped steadily down the length of his thigh, but it's too late. 

He'd come.. so hard. And so much. His pants are stretched too fucking tight because he's sitting and you'd just rung out every last fucking drop of cum from his balls with your pretty pussy rubbing over his lap again and again and-

Robin's muffled curse breaks through his inner-turmoil, followed by the loud thud of something heavy landing on the kitchen counter behind him. Eddie turns sideways in his seat to find Robin with flushed cheeks and sweat beading on her brow, her arms draped limply around a large television set. She's panting exaggeratedly, mouth running a mile a minute as she regales the story of the older couple on the first floor who had upgraded to a 35-inch and offered up their old console for, quote: “Twenty bucks! A goddamn steal, you guys-!”

The two of you are babbling excitedly back and forth, the front door to your apartment still hanging slightly ajar all the while. Eddie realizes, belatedly, that Robin must've carried the behemoth of a thing all the way upstairs by herself — How the hell had she even managed that? 

“Eddie, would you mind giving her a hand with that while I clear a spot for it over here?” You delegate gleefully as you flutter back into the living room to do just that.

You rush to the console table against the far wall and quickly begin shuffling things around to make space for your new possession, stacking books and knickknacks and sliding the clunky record player as close to the edge as you can manage. 

“Oh, uh..” 

Eddie smacks his lips once, eyes dropping from you to the gargantuan fucking wet patch stretched across his thigh. While he's reluctant to dig his own grave, he fears he has no other choice. 

“-Well.. To that 'm gonna have'ta say..” 

He swallows and gives a nod to himself in resolve, a burst of air pushing past his nose as he snatches his jacket from the floor beside the couch and uses it to shield the focal point of his embarrassment, avoiding looking back toward Robin completely. 

“Shit, uh.. Nope. No, sorry." 

Your movements falter at his response, an amused little smile tugging at the corners of your eyes as you regard him, “No?” 

You laugh, like you're waiting for Eddie to clue you in on the joke.   

Of fucking course Eddie had opted to wear a pair of light wash Levis for your date tonight instead of black. Because now? There is no way in hell you and Robin won't see the evidence of his predicament the moment it's no longer hidden behind his leather jacket. 

If you see the way he'd shot off in his pants like a horny teenager from nothing but a little bit of kissing, Eddie is certain he'll never get a second date — Not to mention the constant ribbing he'd be destined to get for the rest of his Goddamned life from everyone else.

There's no way that Buckley won’t tell Harrington — with the weird and questionably platonic friendship the two of them had fallen into at some point around the time they'd graduated high school. And Harrington will, of course, inevitably spill the beans to Dustin. And then Dustin's loud mouth would manage to somehow tell absolutely everybody else in Eddie's life. 

He is so fucked. 

“Yeah, sorry, I gotta bounce, actually-” Eddie fights back a cringe, bounce-? What the fuck is he even saying? “I, uh, I forgot I have a.. A thing.” 

He can't quite hold back a wince then, at the sound of his own excuse in his ears. He's usually a lot better on his toes than this, but he's fucking floundering all of a sudden. 

It's because of you — it has to be because of you. You and your pretty eyes that are slowly narrowing in confusion and maybe a little bit of hurt. You and your angelic little voice, pushing out with a soft, “Oh.” 

But then you're nodding, a weak smile pasting on your lips to cover that flash of sadness he'd seen. You tell Robin you'll be back to help her in a moment and walk Eddie to the door, arms brushing as your gaze remains focussed on the scuffed floorboards. 

You're being sweet, because of course you are. You thank him for a wonderful date, tell him you'll call him, even lean in to press a delicate little kiss to his cheek that Eddie definitely doesn't feel like he deserves. 

When the door closes behind him, it sends a rush of air hurtling toward Eddie smelling distinctly of you. Like your perfume, and the spice of the candle sitting on your kitchen counter, and the sweetness of your shampoo. The scent makes Eddie's head swim with regret and his cock twitch weakly in his pants. 

Yeah, he's definitely fucked. 

[celestialwrites]

unbothered character dialogue + prompts ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

@celestialwrites for more!!

♡ “breathing air that you contaminate deeply unsettles me.”

♡ constantly putting their feet on their superior’s desk/table.

♡ “please remind me why you are relevant.”

♡ always commenting at the worst moment possible.

♡ “life was far more peaceful when i thought you were dead.”

♡ when someone is yelling at them, the character pulls out a book and just starts reading.

♡ “i gave my last fuck two decades ago, you’re going to need a time machine to find it.”

♡ sees a dead body and just sighs, turns around and goes to the breakfast diner across the street.

♡ “if he opens his mouth again i’m calling the cops for a noise disturbance.”

♡ has one hobby that they get really prickly about if people interrupt or make fun of it.

♡ “when did you finally decide to be helpful?”

♡ sees another character having a panic attack and asks them to quiet down so they can finish their crossword puzzle.

♡ “maybe if you were as tall as your ego you would have seen it.”

♡ other characters having to remind them to either pretend to care or not speak at all during important meetings/situations.

♡ “i could bring the heavens crashing down, remember that the next time you interrupt my coffee break.”

♡ being the key part of the team’s plan but will continuously sleep in.

REBLOG TO SUPPORT YOUR LOCAL WRITERS!!<3

[rouinmeijer]

i'm spreading about this because i'm so tired of the misinfo about him being a flirty playboy just because he likes to give compliments

[elvyn]

Justice

[iwannascreameurekaa]

"oh why don't pjo fans know that Apollo told Jason Leo was alive" probably because most pjo fans refuse to read ToA and actually only nitpick what they want to assume is canon. they'll bitch over Jason's death but refuse to acknowledge Lavinia, or Shelper, or crest, or Lester's growth, or megs trauma, or any of the actual things that stick out when you read the series!

[pastabuilt]

Form over function

Robots, bodies, and tech companies creating life

[hana-str4nge]

Summertime>>>>>

[idorukiss]

Xavier is an extremely jealous person, as you’ve seen countless times- especially when Lumiere is brought up. Wanting you to praise nobody but himself- not even your other coworkers or actors on TV. Wanting your eyes and heart to see him and him alone

Swooping to your side every time some potentially strange man approaches you, even if they were just trying to get directions. It warms your heart every single time. You always feel safe with him around, knowing your very own prince charming is there for you at all times

He will never admit why he particularly dislikes any positivity for Lumiere- sure it’s actually him under the mask, but at the same time they're nothing alike. Lumiere is up on a pedestal being the perfect hero. How can he possibly hold a candle to that? Especially when the him of today is the only version of him that you know

You love seeing the fun expressions he makes and swoon every time you see the affection in his eyes, and he loves to hear you say sweet nothings to him with the goofiest smile on your face. There's no way either of could second guess your feelings for one another, but that won’t stop the jealousy from him or the lighthearted teasing from you

He yearns for the day you can remember the him of yesteryear- from when you first got tangled up in fate and he lost you for the first time. Every time you call his name his heart sings just like back then, and he will hold on to every bit of that time he possibly can even if neither of you are the same person anymore