#abt food and drink? so i’ll have to chug my coffee

[fappellmoan]

trying to find somewhere to sit and do work on this stupid fucking campus has me feeling like the joker

[slugmanslime]

Postcard to the Past

so way back in ye ole yonder day (september) the lovely and amazing @frauleinpflaume drew my OC aspara (and not to mention aspara and RONAN whomst i still dream abt) and ive been trying to buss it open in writing for her ever since

well guess what

it has been bussed

merry early christmas Ippy! I hope you like it-- I look forward to writing more for you!

(ill spare you the fanfic formatting lol but here’s the link to those few foriegn words-- https://www.fanfiction.net/s/9338368/1/Saiyan-Language-Dictionary-Glossary MegaKat has some cool stuff!)

“If I were one to judge, I would say it was a rather hearty drink. Tastes terrible, but in a homey kind of way.”

“It’s revolting, and that is the end of it.”

“Hey, hey, Nappa—Vegeta, you guys tried this shit yet?”

The elder duo groaned as Raditz chugged his third half-gallon of eggnog, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and effectively smearing the creamy concoction halfway across his cheek.

“My mate was kind enough to invite you two to this… event. Could you please keep the stupidity levels to a minimum?” The Prince inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly, his nerves already grating a mere hour into the Christmas party. It had been months since the option to revive his late team members had become a reality, and it was taking some major getting used to for Vegeta. It seemed that death and 20+ years in hell had only significantly sobered his cohorts. Nappa was that much more outspoken and contemplative while his unwavering loyalty to his Prince had become rather tarnished; Raditz was simply happy to be alive again, making the most of his existence by eating good food, having good laughs, and attempting life on Earth. Sipping on his finger of whiskey (a Briefs distilled recipe), Vegeta absently wondered if the disappearance of his influence somehow caused a cataclysmic event inside Nappa and Raditz’s brains.

“… had too much booze.” Raditz chuckled, elbowing Nappa sloppily in the ribs. Nappa snorted in response, shaking his head and stroking his mustache like they shared a secret that Vegeta wasn’t in on. The shorter Saiyan sneered, tossing back his drink before setting the glass delicately on the coffee table. Technically, it was the fourth coffee table, and the first to be made from reinforced carbon fiber. Saiyan toddlerhood can be quite destructive, especially when the Saiyan father shares his son’s same mental capacity for rules.

“You two haven’t even been back a year and here you are, insulting me in my very home. Distasteful, disgraceful, and dangerous.” His eyes glinted with a spark of malicious design before it was extinguished once he remembered his company. Yes, perhaps many years ago when he was young, foolish, and bursting with pride, an insult would have been all it took to get his engines revving. But death and 20+ years changed Vegeta as well, it seemed.

“Lighten up, Vegeta!” Raditz clapped him on the back with a little more force than intended, driving the breath from him. He glared up at the foolish oaf of a warrior, who beamed down at him. The resemblance between he and his brother was striking from this angle, and Vegeta huffed, averting his gaze.

“I don’t… enjoy events. Too many people, not enough food.” So, what if this was just a party between friends and family? Bulma thrived on playing hostess during the holidays—the theme of it all was infectious to her. Oh yes, infecting every part of her life… their life… their sex life… Hazily, the Prince cleared his throat and caught Nappa’s eye. The twinkling lights were glinting weakly off of Nappa’s polished dome as he gazed up at a bundle of leaves and berries dangling in the door frame above the trio. “Bulma calls it ‘mistletoe’. Attempts to maul my face any time we’re near it, attempting to call it a Christmas tradition, the vulgar... Raditz, what in seven hells are you doing?”

Towering over him, thick locks of dark hair blotting out the light like a malevolent cloud of locust descending upon a ripe field of crops, Raditz grinned. In his left hand he grasped the bundle of mistletoe, snatched from the ceiling; in the other, miraculously, a full half-gallon of eggnog. “Didnya say it was tradition, ve’ho? Heeeyyy!” He couldn’t help but chortle at the blatantly affronted look plastered on Vegeta’s face. “Kot’tooorr, fri’va, it was a joke!” Raditz leaned even closer, squinting through his predatory grin. “Or was it?”

Two massive, calloused hands found their way to either of the two’s foreheads, separating them forcefully, but not with enough strength to injure or anger them. Nappa withdrew his hands sedately, plucking the mistletoe from Raditz’s fingers and delicately replacing it on it’s hook. “The Prince is mated, you randy moron.” As if to emphasize his point, Nappa swiped the eggnog from Raditz’s other stunned hand, taking a swill and immediately pulling a face. “But I hear that nice young lady with the blonde hair and large weapon is fair game.” As if on que, Lunch sneezed delicately into her cocoa in the next room, inciting a round of groans from its other inhabitants.

Raditz lit up like the one of the numerous, ornately decorated trees displayed around the compound, stumbling around the corner with a cheer and a hoop for more eggnog. The elder Saiyans watched him go, the air of mirth settling onto their spirits like a thick afghan, blocking out the cold respites of the past. Wordlessly, Vegeta reached for his empty glass, proffering it to Nappa who filled it with his smirched alcohol.

After a moment of silent contemplation on their own parts, Nappa tilted his carton towards Vegeta, managed to appear somber and immensely sentimental all in the same glance. “Merry Christmas from Vegeta-sei.”

Vegeta’s chest squirmed, the same way a worm does when it finds its way back into the muck, but for once it didn’t seem to bother him so badly.

“… I’ll drink to that.”