#and then just try to cram a bunch of that into the show when some get canceled

[tigirl-and-co]

being a writer is a fucking nothingburger. had an awesome idea for an au/fancontinuity but I'm not super interested in making a full Thing out of it. and like artists can do doodles and shit to get the point across but I can't even do THAT much

[loversandantiheroes]

Thought about Mando and went through like twelve stages of grief again.

[itgirlgyu]

HOW TO GET BACK AT MIDDLE-SCHOOLERS.

₍ sum.₎ after experiencing some bullying from middle schoolers, and getting swindled out of the last bit of his money, he instills your help, his best friend, to get back his money as well as honour. but you soon find out that he was not telling the entire truth... would you still find him despite finding his dirty little secret? yeonjun x fem!reader. ft! cashier!soobin. warning!!! some cussing, mean kids, weird adults, age shaming. :( WC! 3.9k+.

“how the fuck do you get scammed by middle schoolers?” you spat the words with the contempt to bruise whatever ego yeonjun had left—if any—after getting deceived by a bunch of school going kids and instead of taking action by himself to sleep better at night with the assurance that he wasn't such a major pushover, he had come crying to you; begging you to avenge him whilst you were busy trying to prepare to crack the examination of your recent job interview.

“aren't they like 12?!”

“15!” yeonjun, suddenly growing a backbone corrected the little error in your data, “they are in their third year!”

“you look like you are in your third reincarnation!” she shot back, “the bags under your eyes could hold up to 15 kgs of your own bullshit so just own up to your carelessness”.

yeonjun opened his mouth to defend himself, controlling the urge to take out his phone to check out the state of the durable eye bags he was carrying under his eyes,”i thought this concealer was ultra coverage with skin like finish,” yeonjun murmured to himself.

yeonjun and you were huddled together under a shrub in the afternoon–when you should be cramming down job questionnaires–waiting for the group of kids who had mercilessly robbed your friend of his last 50 dollars of the week and seek the revenge; the barely legal sort, kissing the lethal of edge of ‘if it ever got out–neither of you would be able to show face in the community for a while. not glossing over the fact that you two were hiding into the shadow like a pair of perverts waiting to spring forth and scar the futures of the nation irrevocably. “quit yapping to yourself’ you snarled, quickly snapping your neck to check up on yeonjun, “ so what's the plan”

you both were blinking at each other for a good few seconds before it all registered in his head and he managed to face without lifting his butt even once. despite his pitiful morality to be fooled at the drop of a hat, if there was one thing he didn’t disappoint in–it was his core strength. you sometimes wish the same could have been said for his mental strength. all it took for you was to let out a sigh for him to remember the plan that he had crafted all weekend long.

“we confront them,’ he began before the expression in his face to display the crucial detail which he was failing to recall had finally graced the lacking department of his memory, “you confront them.”

you could have seen this coming from a mile away and that is exactly why you had arrived at the rendezvous for the reprisal against the middle schoolers that had wronged yeonjun.

“deal with your own shit.”

it took yeonjun less than a second to almost throw himself at your feet to stop you from abandoning him. you hadn’t even gotten to fully straighten your back before he came to his senses and decided to follow your version of the plan; the rational kind.

“we throw water at them and then we run.”

“thats your rational plan?” yeonjun retaliated, the glimmer of hope swimming in his head drowning as soon as the rational plan you had come up with was verbalized.

“i thought of it all day yesterday after you told me.”

bare-faced lies; you didn’t spare a single thought on his matter, and you were not even guilty about it. rather than keeping the promise you had been thrown into haphazardly. yeonjun, in fact, had to wake you up from a nap to come out with him to execute the little mission to reclaim his honor back.

“no we can't do that,” yeonjun spoke solemnly. the wrinkle of consequences settling deep within his non-existent pores as he averted his gaze rather shamefully. his footsteps taking like steps to aid him in facing away in his rather compact position, “my cousin is one of them.”

yeonjun added the last bit of the sentence timidly; his teeth were almost chattering out of fear.

amidst all these elaborate ruse to gain one's honor back, yeonjun had forgotten to relay one tiny crucial piece of information to you; it was his cousin and his annoying friend group who had swindled the money out of him, and the only reason he wants revenge, or something like that, was to gain back the authority one must possess as one of the eldest sons in the family: a position that he accidentally let stumble, also the money.

“why can't we do that?” you repeated your question, the annoyance slipping back through the crevice of the words letting yeonjun know of your irritation and the lack of willingness to be there any longer.

yeonjun thanked his stars for your poor sense of hearing, and his soft vocals to keep the secret remain as one, because god forbid you catch the whiff of it—yeonjun would not contemplate much to figure out the amount of money you'd extort out of him for wasting your time over a topic that could be solved in a family function. even if he does not gain back the respect he deserves, he can not let you figure out the truth if he wishes to carry on his life without a nose revision job.

“jail!” yeonjun blurted out, “we might end up in jail for harassing minors.”

“wait yeah,” you concurred, the repercussions of having hands on punishment over quite literally children finally dawning into your foggy alley of judgment, “you're right.”

“so we confront them.” yeonjun revised his earlier plan, at last deciding to go with you version, he had just to make sure his cousin does not get a word in and end up spilling water over the entire bit he had planned out—in the moment right now. if he had realized this in that time when he was overwhelmed with the humiliation and fear leading him to vent to his best friend—you—and convince you to partake in his zany revenge on children; one of which is his actual cousin. whilst this all may seem juvenile he did want to gain back the respect over the younglings in the family so perhaps this little mission was not that of a bad idea as yeonjun might have concluded it to be as it approached closer.

“i didn't think you'd be actually smart enough to foresee the consequences,” you ended up complimenting yeonjun, despite not wanting to. you hadn't always gotten a sense of caution and logic from him but at times when he did excel your set expectations of him you couldn't help but praise the man.

whilst the two of you were busy commemorating the acute common sense yeonjun possessed and decided to marvel at time of need, there was a sudden disruption into the bush you two were inhabiting. it was a football and a toddler; followed by a teenager who had come to collect both the ball and the toddler and had been very verbally freaked out to see two adults crouching down whilst having a heart to heart conversation. the look of shock and mild disgust etched on the face of the teenager had you springing up to your feet and trying to come up with a good enough reason that would not result in both of you spending a night in the jail cell.

“it's not what it looks like!”

“su-” the boy dragged his words, with his eyes glued to you as he snatched the balls and the toddler, making sure you didn't get any time to surprise attack them. without providing any time to put forth any semblance of appeal from your side the boy has scurried away, leaving you to be the epitome of “stranger danger” as well as the weird person to steer clear away from.

“this is all because of you!” the rage taking over you upon the realization that you had just ruined your perception on some random people that you will never meet again and manifesting in the kick that you had bestowed upon yeonjun's knees causing him to tumble on the side like a singular pin in the bowling alley.

“how is it because of me?” yeonjun hissed in pain, his hands quickly reaching out to grab the knee you had slightly grazed over—the real reason why he had fell over was of course his poor posture and the need to incorporate dramatics in every aspect of his life but he did not need to tell you that, and you did not need to know it either—you were already aware of this peculiar aspect of his personality as a result of the long-standing friendship, “my knees! my knees!”

you rolled your eyes and stepped away; and kept stepping away until you were almost out of the bush and he alone looked like a man who had done too much day drinking.

“when the hell are they coming?” you squint your eyes in displeasure from waiting, letting the sobriety clutch your shoulders and shake you into remembering that you are two adults waiting to ambush a bunch of kids—albeit the kids stole from your friend first, so the guilt did ease itself a little.

yeonjun shook the dust off his pants, “right about now?” scanning through the myriad of teenagers bunched together getting out of after school classes looking for the familiar faces within them, “there!” yeonjun pointed his finger towards them, pinpointing the lil posse of delinquents. your eyes followed suit and stopped at a group of three boys and two girls at a feasible distance, seemingly heading towards the convenience store.

“It's game time,” you cracked your neck, readying yourself to not get fatally wounded by the expected brashness of those brats—skillfully ignoring the look of adoration from yeonjun that followed after the declaration of gusto. strengthening the spirits as adrenaline began to rush through your veins, providing you with enough bravery to whizz out at the kids and come out as victorious if it ended within fifteen minutes: the chances of this going very wrong after the set time was dangling somewhere around 90 to 98%. if you were going to do it, you shall do it with your all.

“welcome!” the part time behind the counter greeted you and yeonjun with a sort of monotone that itself felt like it was forced out of the larynx of the unwilling worker, but you weren't here to critique the work ethic of a barely paid man; or to reciprocate the forced etiquettes. instead you let your hawk gaze zero on the pesky group that you both had followed into the store blissfully, and noisily loitering around the ramen isle.

“and i said that peanut flavored ramen would give you gyatt issues.”

“you mean gut issue—”

“hey you peanuts!”

confronting a bunch of teenagers was no easy feat, and with the so-called victim slowly stepping back with the means of becoming one with the various packets of chips was another thing but the war had been waged. in simpler words, it would be very embarrassing to not get through to the end of it.

“you bullied my friend over here,” you moved your head vaguely to point at yeonjun’s disintegrating presence, “and stole from him didn't you all?”

“what friend are you talking about?” one of the kids spoke up, “ and who you calling bullies ahjumma?”

“ahjumma?” you patience had already started strip away, pulling your facial muscles tighter, and freezing your face into an expression would make anyone's blood run cold with one glance, the only sign of life left within your eyebrows as they twitched due to the time bomb whose reverse countdown had began since the utterance of the forsaken word.

“please, any battery assault on minors if intended must be carried outside this property!” the cashier sprung into action faster than anyone, deftfully stepping up to protect his minimum wage job but the apathy had still been seeping out of his words without a hitch, sneaking stealing a glance at the cctv overlooking the entire situation to make sure his warning had been captured into the camera to ensure his participation in making sure whatever that would transpire, he had indeed tried to stop it.

perhaps, it was soobin, the cashier who had brought yeonjun back to the reality and the really ugly scenario that was about to take place if he put himself first and ran off, bidding adieu to his self respect, the money and the friendship or he could see the anger that happened to be radiating off your body because he had appeared instantaneously from the lucrative hiding spot he had found for himself within the layers of jellies, “are you okay?” the worry was evident in his voice although anyone would be a fool to not recognize the undertone of fear layered underneath the cadence of his voice.

“hyung?!”

yeonjun stiffened up—his gig was up. it happened sooner than he had expected, honestly but the little humiliation was miles better than you getting into an actual physical altercation with the kids where one of them was the son of his aunt. he was willing to sacrifice as much—amazingly enough forgetting that he was the one to rope you into this mess in the first place.

“hyung what are you doing here?” the kid queried once again, inching closer to get a better look at yeonjun’s guilty ass that even his full coverage concealer couldn't cover up.

“i-”

“hyung?” you repeated incredulously, gazing back and forth between the accused and the accuser; the so-called victim and the perpetrator, “why is he calling you hyung?”

“that's cause he is my cousin,” the accused #4 deadpanned, “wait was it because we asked for money from you like yesterday?!”

“asked? more like you guys surrounded me and wouldn't stop peer pressing me into giving you the money, so you did bully it out of me and that's not cool. “ yeonjun sighed, confessing what he had truly felt, “ so i want you to give me the money back and never do this again, that is not how you were raised.”

“wait a fucking second!” you spoke up interrupting the life lesson from older brother to younger brother, fanning away the smoke that was coming out of your nostrils at the utter betrayal from the man you had been foolishly calling your best friend for all these years, “your cousin took the money from you not some random middle schoolers?!?”

accused #4 who had been shamefully hanging his head low—proof of the choi genes aren't as rotten as yeonjun had thought it to be because once publicly shamed and given the right lesson, they do indeed listen like real men!—sensed the upcoming tsunami, and backed away, letting his cousin take the blow which he rightfully deserved.

yeonjun opened his mouth to defend himself but decided not to dig himself a deeper hole, and nodded. his new game plan was to take the verbal beating and then speak up once the physical one begins, “but you see this was needed.”

of course he couldn't help himself but speak out the truth regardless of his decision to stick to taking it instead of sticking up for himself. it is not like he has stood up with any of his choices through and through and he wasn't going to start today as well; every plan could be revised according to the situation and yeonjun quite prides himself in his flexibility. although his regard about himself might just be a little skewed to himself according to on-lookers.

“please, any attempted murder should be carried outside!” soobin the cashier intervened once more.

“dude!” yeonjun cried out, snapping his head around to find the name tag on the cashier's chest to build a closer relationship to stop him from giving his already furious best-friend—now steaming like an overheated engine—ideas on how to handle the situation. yeonjun could very well buy a new nose but how would he buy his life out from a grim reaper?

“soobin please!” the cashier, soobin, shrugged with an utmost look of languor before going back to doing nothing behind the counter, yet appearing very unavailable to be involved in further chumminess with a bunch of unpaying and troublesome customer in the store.

accused #4, who was better at reading the room than his obtuse cousin,had been quietly gathering his friends to take a run from the painful showdown that was taking place at an excruciating pace. in spite of the skilled attempt to make a run, they were stopped when you raised your voice after you finished analyzing the situation and what to do in a stupid situation like this. murder was still somewhere in the mental notepad, although not right now. you could somehow make out why yeonjun would instill your help after getting bullied by his own cousin and friends. more than his money, he wanted the respect back and you were still willing to help the man—who betrayed your trust, ruined your evening, made you seem like a pervert in the park, got you to hear a bunch of middle schoolers refer to you as an old woman and made you appear like a homicidal freak to the cashier—because he was your best friend. not for long though.

“you heard him,” you crossed your arms against your chest, the cold stealth back in your voice to scare the kids, “cough of the money and apologize to your cousin. “

yeonjun was touched; he could cry in that moment; unaware that the tears had already started to pathetically stream down his cheeks until soobin, the cashier with whom he now built a closer relationship with once he figured out that no potential crime is going to be committed in his work place, passed him the tissue to dab away the tears.

after the initial moaning and groaning, with the kids huddled in a circle to gather cash for the rightful return. they came up with 25 dollars and a few cents, the first installment as they had called it smugly.

“hyung! you have to give me a family discount!* accused #4 pleaded to your surprise, and to much bigger surprise (not really), yeonjun gave in to the entitled demand. disgracefully accepting the measly twenty five dollars and the few cents of the whole fifty that was taken away from him with an ear to ear proud grin plastered on his face, watching the presumptuous entourage of middle schoolers.

“im so glad you decided to forgive me. “ you wanted to snap in middle and shove his little gesture into his own bottoms but you resisted; clenching your teeths, your lips were pulled into a tight line to to ensure no harsh words just magically slip past and ruin the beautiful tension you were building up before you hit him with the news after he was done yapping.

“i would forgive you if you were my best friend,” you smiled, ignoring the smile that slowly disappeared off his face, “that's why you're no longer my friend. “

“consider that twenty five dollars your parting gift.” you added. your expression still taut on your face whilst yeonjun’s facial muscles started to twitch like the tectonic plates under earth's crust as he processed the sudden break up. opening his mouth like a fish coming out of water before sinking back in with the visual representation of his beak obvious in the way he appeared, clutching the twenty five dollars and the few cents in his sweaty palm.

“what?” yeonjun finally found his voice. you nodded, reiterating what you had just expressed to him, “ but you helped me out there”

“parting gift!” you called out just as soon, your attention now used to pick out the flavor of ramen you wanted to eat since you had come to the store anyway, “and for our parting dinner, pay this off” you held up the cup that you had chosen before going back to

“can't I just just pay for this and call it even?” yeonjun pleaded, hurriedly picking up the flavor he preferred and tailed you to the microwave. the impatience reflecting in the restless in his foot as he waited for your reply like a little child, making an unfair deal.

“nope!” you replied, closing the microwave and turning to look him in the eyes as you say it, “you humiliated me.”

yeonjun appeared apologetic. he was no selfish person who would put other people in such positions and derive joy from it. he wouldn't even think of asking of such favors from other than you but you felt a rage sail within you because of the fact that he had hidden the real motive beneath the silly request he made, and you had come with it despite how juvenile it might have sounded; along with the consequences if it were to turn ugly in some way

“i know i'm sorry, but you were the only one who could have helped me,” yeonjun apologized once more,“and you see how well that went. “

“no can do, grow a backbone.”

yeonjun placed his bowl after you took yours out as you were occupying the only working one.

“please!”

“nope!”

“well… “ yeonjun was growing even more restless; the rhythm of his foot tapping against the ground relaying the disorder of the folders of his mind as he fished for a suitable reason to keep the friendship,“ you don't even have other friends.”

the gasp that followed was involuntary as you sealed the packet with the wooden chopsticks with a renewed flash of anger coursing through your veins, “I'll make new!”

yeonjun finally eased a little. the smirk was slowly beginning to appear back on his face and it was looking quite smug to be owned by a man who was to be abandoned by a friend, and was supposed to be apologetic.

“hey…” you looked at the cashier, catching his attention before reading the tag on his vest, “soobin will you be my friend? ill make this convenience store my regular”

“this is already your go-to convenience store.“

your enticing smile faltered at the embarrassing attempt to make your first friend after the fall out with the best friend five minutes ago, and worse—it happened in front of him!

“oh… you must be new then?” you narrowed your eyes to analyze his features to figure out any other time you had seen him at this store, although the face felt unfamiliar but the attitude he was giving did not seem to support the conclusion you were coming to, “you're not.”

“exactly.” soobin smiled, taunting a dimple at you before putting on his deadpan expression back on.

“your best bet is me,” yeonjun, now with his hot ramen in his hand, sat next to you in front. of the window, blocking the view of soobin with his big head which had grown a few more sizes after watching you get rejected in real time,“we are the only ones who can handle each other. say if we are 30 and have a hard time finding a spouse we settle together.”

“shut the fuck up and eat your ramen.” you sulk, blowing onto the portion that was wrapped around your chopsticks before shoving it into your mouth.

“does this mean you forgave me?” the child-like lilt was back into voice and you couldn't help but roll your eyes and leave him. hanging. the silence—save for the slurps of the noodles—giving the answer he needed to feel at ease and gleefully chomp onto his sausage.

©ITGIRLGYU 2022-24. ₍ finally a proper comeback yay! ₎

PERM' TAGLIST: @bamtorin @ox1-lovesick @jisungsdaydreamer @wonioml @1921choi @forever-in-the-sky2 @beoms-sugar @gyuletters

[seat-safety-switch]

I love my fireworks, say all my neighbours as they cram a flimsy plastic tube full of low-yield explosives. Surely everyone in my community will also appreciate them. If not, they are some kind of Grumpy Gus and are not invited to the block party cookout. Friends, I can tell you this right now: I am not going to that barbecue.

As you might have imagined, the residents of my area of the world like to shoot off a bunch of Roman candles when they feel like it. Sure, fireworks are fun and all, but I feel like if you're burning three or four hundred dollars worth of illegal noise-and-light generators every couple of weeks, you might as well just take up smoking again.

At first, it was a lot of fun. Very festive. It helped the community spirit, even if all the dogs were constantly terrified and kept trying to chew through a fence to escape. Ol' Ray down the block lost a finger trying to grab onto what he called a "Winky Sprinkler," though, and then everything changed.

Once there was a scent of blood in the air, it became a competition. Ray needed to "make it worth" his sacrifice, so he started amping up his production. Bigger shows. Coordinated by electronics. More frequently. This drew the ire of another rich asshole (Bob Winsome, who used to own the Ford dealership) with poor impulse disorder, and soon the two of them were getting up to a night-time artillery show that the police were not equipped to stop, mostly because they were at the doughnut store or trying to knock over a casino for some quick cash in the retirement fund at the time.

Nearly every night became a terror of pop-pop-pop. although I am very good at ignoring troublesome noises, those noises are usually generated by my own car while I'm driving them. Not constantly happening while I'm trying to focus on my usual problems: things like "why is this bolt stripped," and "where did this pile of wires I just cut through go to?"

As the Constitution says, though: "fuck 'em if they can't take a joke." After one particularly rough night of having exploding munitions going off directly over my head while I was trying to find the origin of some faint valve clatter, I decided to respond in kind. A friend of mine, who will be called Millie Teri for reasons that are about to become clear, loaned me a couple pieces from her private collection. I had myself a patriotic parade that night. Courtesy, of course, of some army bases didn't really pay too close attention to what they listed on eBay. That's what they call "taxpayer value," even if I did have to technically buy the low-shrapnel M107 flash shells twice.

I had expected to draw a truce after demonstrating my superior firepower, much like how French tourists can shut down any discussion of cheese. After bombarding both rich pricks' homes, however, it soon became apparent that the dickheads blamed each other for the massive destruction wrought on their properties, and refused to believe that a belligerent third party could have done such a thing to them just for "several months of sleepless nights courtesy of constant 120dB outside noise."

After the mutually-assured destruction finished, though, I never saw or heard another fireworks display from Ol' Ray or Bob Winsome. If they ever find an identifiable chunk of either of their bodies, we'll probably have a pretty cool tribute at the funeral using up whatever unexploded fireworks they have still left in the scorched remnants of their family homes.

[floating-mid-air]

The Princess of all Saiyans

-

Masterlist

-

I'm back yet again. Tbh, this chapter was pushed out entirely by just trying to occupy myself. Boe, my childhood cat of 16 years, just recently passed away. So, this chapter is entirely dedicated to her. I've had Boe practically my entire life, so it's def been rough. But I'm glad to finally get a chapter out for you all! This chapter is also a bit shorter than usual due to how I wanna start the next chapter. As always, DM's/Comments are always open if you have any comments, questions, or concerns. Thanks for all the support!

-

Chapter 17

-

You glide through the air, observing the destruction of the planet beneath you. Demolishing a planet was always your favorite part of the job when you were working under Frieza. It was always the most exciting part. Though, watching a planet burn is not as fun when your life is in imminent danger. Who knew?

This entire situation is difficult for you. This retreat is tactical, for sure. But... running away with your tail between your legs... to Earth of all planets. It's sickening. It goes against every single one of your instincts and every lesson you've ever been taught. Daily life would be much simpler without the damn Saiyan pride flowing through your veins. At points, it feels more like an anchor weighing you down. 

You spot a familiar figure in the distance, with a much larger one slung over his shoulders. You pick up speed, quickly outpacing him. "Huh?" The boy looks up, calling out your name. "You're safe!"

"Yeah, yeah. No need to throw a party." You scoff. "This planet is still a ticking time bomb." The two of you keep flying, not saying much to each other as you travel the distance. Before you speak up again. "Any idea how far this damn ship is?" Gohan shrugs, so the brat's as clueless as you are. "Great. Just great." You mumble sarcastically, blowing a strand of hair out of your face. 

Now you're on a wild goose chase of Kakarot's making. Some coordinates would've been nice. Not far from here isn't precisely quality directions. You'd take a simple cardinal direction at this point. And with the way this planet is crumbling, the ship might not even be functioning by now. 

"Hey!" Gohan calls out to you. "Look down there!" Your gaze trails downward. You make a subtle landing, dropping in front of the ship's doors. Wow, it's actually in one piece. It also has the same logo from that cave where you visited Raditz to inform him about the true fate of your people. Must be some sort of brand. 

"How the hell do you even open this thing?" You stare at the doors of the dome-shaped ship. Times like this, you miss the technology you've grown accustomed to under Frieza's command. Gohan moves over to you; he pushes a camouflage button, the door spinning open immediately. You enter the vessel first. It's small but larger than what you're used to. You still have nightmares about those damn pods you were crammed into. Sardines in a can have more room than you did. 

Gohan places the Namekian on the ground before turning to you. "Stay here with Piccolo. I'll go out and find Bulma."

"Do you really need to? Like, would anyone miss her?" From your brief encounters, you know two things about the Earth woman. She's incredibly irritating and she has awful taste in men.

"She's our... well, she's my friend. Of course, we can't leave her behind…" Gohan trails. Memories of when Vegeta ruthlessly killed Nappa flood his brain. He remembers the aloof expression on your face. The way your lips met in a thin line, not even showing an ounce of empathy. It still sends a shiver down his spine when he thinks about it. "So maybe you wouldn't exactly get it." He laughs nervously. "But it's the right thing to do."

"How do you know the Earth woman is even alive?" From what you've noticed, earthlings aren't the most durable creatures. And your knowledge stems from the strongest of the bunch.  So it's a reasonable question.

"Well, I have to try! I can't just leave her out there." He takes a deep breath, collecting himself before continuing. "And I'm the only one who can. Piccolo is out of it. And you're pretty banged up, Y/N. I'll be back as soon as possible. Promise." He extends his arm out to you, holding out his pinky.

Your face scrunches up in confusion. "What the hell are you doing?"

"It's a pinky promise." You look at the boy as if he has two heads. To be honest, a two-headed creature would probably be less peculiar to you. Gohan sighs. "It's just another way to make a promise... like a handshake, only with your pinkies.

"You earthlings and your bizarre customs." You shake your head in disbelief, but Gohan doesn't move an inch, still extending the digit to you. "Fine, Fine." You interlock your pinky with his briefly before pulling away. Gohan smiles brightly at you. You place your hands on your hips, sighing quite loudly. "If you're not back within thirty minutes. I'm leaving the Namekian and dragging you back by force. Understand?"

The boy gulps before nodding rapidly. And with that, he takes off. His small frame disappears from your view. Well, at least things are quiet... with the amount of irritation you've been subjected to, you forgot how much you dread silence. You slide down against what you can only assume is the navigation system. You bang your head against the cool metal. Taking in the situation before you. Everything will get worse before it gets better. You just know it. 

---

The ground beneath you shakes violently. "Fucking low-class Earth machinery." You quickly come to realize that the ship itself isn't moving… it's the planet's surface. You spring to your feet, the rocking pushing you back and forth as you make your way to the entrance. You peek your head out, a luminous beam of light coming from the direction you just came from. "Well, that can't be good…" With another violent rumble, you lose your footing, sending you tumbling. Your back slams against the ship's walls with a notable thud. 

You groan, picking yourself up off the floor. What the hell just happened? Your balance has changed; it's like gravity has significantly altered. You shift your gaze around the ship, looking for irregularities. The foundation now has an arch to it. You can still feel the ground underneath you slipping. Oh shit, the land underneath you must be concaving. 

With your remaining energy, you fly up into the air, picking up the Namekian with a scowl crossing your features. You can't believe you're fucking doing this. You don't save the weak… and you don't spare the injured. So what the hell are you doing? You could just take this damn ship, toss the Namekian out, and leave the boy and the Earth woman for dead. Or at least you could've let the Namekian plummet and slam into the wall. Sure, it could've killed him, but that's not your problem. You don't give a damn about the Dragon Balls or the lives of the pathetic deceased earthlings. All you care about now is spiting Frieza. You're losing your edge. The longer you spend with these people, the softer you get. It's vile. 

Before your subconscious can voice any more displeasure, the lights flicker, the entire ship going dim. The only light coming from the entrance. Great, just great; now you can barely see shit. What else could possibly go wrong? Once the ship has suspended, you place the Namekian back on the floor. The gravity is a bit off due to the angle you're on, but he should be fine. You find a new place to sit, one that's less sunken into the ground. You slide on the wall right beside the opening of the ship. You're getting far too soft for your liking.

After a bit more time passes, you can hear voices approaching. Two distinct voices, to be exact. You open your eyes, knowing immediately that it's them. Much to your surprise, the Earth woman somehow survived. Good thing you didn't bet money on it. Gohan enters the ship first, a big grin on his face. "Fucking finally," You stand back up, crossing your arms. 

"I told you I'd find her." The boy boasts.

"I'm so overjoyed." You reply with a deadpan look on your features.

"Gohan?" Bulma, on shaky legs, enters the ship. "Where are you-" As soon as her eyes land on you, she shrieks. "What is she doing here?"

"It's alright, Bulma. She's with us." Gohan assures her.

"But she's insane! You saw what she did to---" You clear your throat, reminding her of your presence. She looks at you, fear evident in her eyes. "Well, you know what. The more the merrier." She laughs nervously. Once Bulma calms herself down, she looks around the ship. "Hmm? It's so dark in here. I wonder if there was some sort of malfunction."

"That's weird." Gohan's brows furrow. "The lights were on when I left." The pair turn to you.

"The ship slid a bit." You shrug nonchalantly. 

"Well, why didn't you---" You cut the woman off. 

"I'm not familiar with your low-class Earth machinery. I could have just made everything worse!" Before Bulma can retort, she slips, plunging right into the control panel. You let out a brash chuckle, watching her struggle. 

She stands back up, finding her footing. She leans over the panel, fiddling with the buttons. "I'm not familiar with this machine model." She continues to mess with the controls.

After a few more seconds, the lights turn on. Maybe the Earth woman is more competent than she lets on. Cause she fixed that rather fast. "Phew. All better." She takes a few steps back before stepping on something squishy. Unbeknownst to her, she just tripped up on the Namekian. Bulma's eyes dart downward; as soon as she sees the green man, she somehow shrieks even louder than when she noticed you. You're almost offended. She jumps into the air before scurrying behind Gohan. "Is that Piccolo, or am I losing it?" Her voice shakes.

Gohan nods. "Yep, that's him, alright."

She extends her neck, taking a second glimpse at the Namekian. "What's he even doing here? Bulma observes the man carefully, taking a mental note that he still hasn't risen. There's something clearly wrong with him. The gears turn in her brain, briskly making an educated guess that Piccolo is injured. Well, it's that, along with his grueling appearance. "Look at him. He's a mess! Does he really have to tag along?" Gohan turns to her, shooting the woman a disapproving look. "I mean, this is his home planet after all…" 

That's odd. From what you've understood, the Namekian is a part of the band of buffoons. He helped kill Cado. He trained the half-breed. He was there when you invaded Earth. And showed up here to get himself killed. Sounds like he's a core member of Kakarot's idiots to you. But from the Earth woman's reaction, you have to second guess that theory. Maybe they aren't allies after all? Possibly, they just share common goals? You've been in several situations similar to that in the past.

"We can't just leave him! He saved us. I owe him. We all do! So he's coming back to Earth with us no matter what!"

"That's sweet of you…" Bulma places her hand on Gohan's shoulder. "But we don't know if he would've wanted that." You raise an eyebrow. The man is clearly breathing. So why is she talking in the past tense like you have a corpse aboard? Aren't these humans supposed to be selfless and empathetic? Or have you only met the irritating ones? If the Earth woman keeps this behavior up, you could be more on board with her. "I think he would've wanted to be buried here, on his home planet."

Gohan's brows furrow, looking at the woman with a frown. You roll your eyes. "He's not dead, you lunatic…." You say as if you weren't just making the same argument for the Earth woman only a short while ago. Maybe we should leave her. It would make the journey back more tolerable. "But, hey, if you're so insistent. You wanna bury him here… you dig the hole."

"Fine." Bulma huffs. "He can come with us."

"How generous of you." You scoff. Before you can make another snarky comment, the aircraft shifts again, sinking further inwards towards the planet's core. A few more cracks in the surface of this planet and the four of you are going to die a very excruciating death.  

"This entire place is falling apart!" The woman exclaims. "We need to take off. Now!" You can't believe you're saying this, but you're actually in agreement with the Earth woman. Talk about a plot twist. Bulma rushes back to the panel and starts fiddling with the buttons again. 

"Wait!" Gohan shouts, stopping the woman dead in her tracks. "We can't leave yet! We have to wait for my dad!"

"He'll be okay, Gohan." Bulma's eyes soften. "If anyone can find a way out of here, it's Goku… he always does." She stares off into the distance as if having some sort of dream sequence. It's mildly disturbing. 

"No, we can't!" The boy starts to tear up. "There's still time, lots of it." Considering you have a high level of expertise in the destruction of planets. You know, this rock has maybe an hour left maximum. And that's being incredibly generous.

 You groan. "I hate to agree with the Earth woman, but she's right. I've seen the destruction of more planets than you could probably imagine. Now, most of them were by my own hands, but that's irrelevant. The point is, your father wants you off this planet. And I think you should adhere to his wishes."

"Please…" Gohan looks between the two of you with big eyes. "Just a few more minutes."

"Gohan…" Bulma smiles weekly at him. "I think-" She's cut off. By the ship once again sinking further into the ground.

You rub your temples, your frustration growing rapidly. You can't believe this is even a discussion. What needs to happen is clear. Maybe to everyone but the brat. "I've had enough! This isn't the time to play selfless hero like your moronic father. Let me put this in the simplest terms I can. If we don't get the Namekian off this planet, everyone dies! There's no second chances. There's no more wishes. And that means-" You cut yourself off. Stopping yourself from saying something unnecessarily cruel. You're trying to persuade him, not make him weep.

The planet's destruction continues to form around you. This discussion is clearly going nowhere. You don't see why a child should decide all of your fates. "This is bad!" Bulma struggles to maintain balance due to the quaking beneath her. "We only have a few minutes left before planet Namek is nothing but dust!" Gohan isn't even paying attention to anything other than the direction of the battle. It's like everything both you and Bulma say goes in one ear and out the other. You're seconds away from knocking the boy out, so you can descend with no hiccups. 

Gohan's face falls before you can even set a plan in motion. You focus your energy in the direction of the battle. And you sense exactly the same thing. You sigh, feeling slight empathy for the boy. You know how that feels. You've lived through that experience. It's certainly not a positive one. "Dad's energy." He chokes up. "It's just… gone." Bulma gasps. 

"Does that mean?" Gohan nods, his sad expression quickly evolving into one of determination. 

"Start preparing the ship for launch. And take Piccolo back to Earth with you. I'm staying here." Perfect, just what you need. A loose cannon on your hands. The option of knocking him out is growing more appealing by the second. The boy moves to the door, standing right in front of it.

"Woah! Hey there! Slow down!" Panic rises in Bulma's voice. "Gohan! No! You can't just go back out there!" Gohan presses a button, causing the door to slowly open. "Gohan, don't do this."

"I'm my father's son, Bulma." Well, that's clear to you. He clearly got his lack of preservation from somewhere. Moron must be genetic. "I have to finish what he started. It's my duty."

"Gohan…" Bulma rushes over to him. "You can't. It's too dangerous." 

The boy shakes his head. "I have to try. Piccolo would understand." From your brief interactions with the Namekian, you doubt that's true. "It's what he and dad would've wanted." And now you know for a fact that it's untrue. Your hypothesis has to be correct. Moron is undoubtedly genetic.

It's time for some intervention. You know for a fact the Earth woman is no match for the half-breed. Words can only get you so far. You slowly walk over to them, your boots making a notable clink against the metal floor, the sound growing closer with each step. Right until you're standing directly in front of Gohan. The last barricade between him and the outside world. You chuckle mischievously. "Absolutely not, brat."

 "I have to do this, Y/N." He looks you dead in the eyes, not even displaying an ounce of fear.

"Why's that? So Frieza can slaughter three generations of your bloodline rather than two?" You roll your eyes. "Your father asked me to look out for you, and I intend to. No matter how aggravating it is."

"But…"

"But nothing! Were we even on the same battlefield?" You place your hands on your hips, your eyes narrowing into slits. "You genuinely think this is what your father would've wanted? He was screaming at you to leave. He basically ordered you to. A father looks out for their child… he doesn't throw them into the lion's den!"

"I can do this. I can't just let Frieza get away with this!" Gohans' attempts at persuasion are futile. You could easily out-stubborn him any day of the week.

"Think about this logically! If you go out there. Frieza will kill you. It'll be quick. You're no match for him. He'll probably be insulted that you'd even try. The battle doesn't just end… the entire fight will! If we return to Earth, you can rest up… prepare a bit. I know Frieza. And I assure you he will be gunning for Earth next. He wants that wish. And what Frieza wants, he tends to get it." 

Now, you're doing some logical thinking of your own. If the Namekian dies… there's no more wishes. You could step on his neck right now. End his pathetic life. You'd put a stop to Frieza's mission. He'd never be able to get his hands on immortality. Sure, there'd be a few unhappy faces, but it would be the wise thing to do. You can't believe this thought hasn't crossed your mind before. You quickly shake that idea out of your head. It's a fantastic plan. It's far more logical than your current one. You'll keep it in your pocket. "If you care about your planet… your people. You'll stay on this ship and go home."

You're running out of ways to convince him. If only he hadn't inherited a stubborn Saiyan nature. This is the first time you've wished he behaved more like an Earthling and less like a Saiyan. "I have to do this!"

You know what. You're done arguing with him. It's time to use something that works much better. Threats. "Oh, you wanna go out there?" You extend your hand outwards toward the outside. "Be my guest… but you'll have to go through me first."

Gohan's hands ball up into fists. "That's not fair!"

You scoff. "Please, if you think you can face Frieza, then I should be a piece of cake." You're about to take it even further. But before you can, you feel a familiar powerful level in the distance… and then another. Your head darts in that direction. What the hell? That's not possible. Are you imagining things again? As you're distracted, the brat runs past you, making a break for it. He takes off before you can even move a muscle. "God damn it!"

Huh. There are chunks of energy everywhere. Small and pathetic levels, but they exist. There's life… how the hell is there life? Wait… does that mean. You weren't imagining things. You really did sense Vegeta and Raditz. But… how? You quite vividly remember their deaths. You see it every time you close your eyes. There's a serious mind fuck going on. Your brain is scrambling.

The Earth woman shakes her head, snapping out of her dazed expression. "Why'd you let him get away?" She shouts at you. 

"I–" You're at a loss for words. You don't understand how this is happening. "There's energy levels all over this planet."

"I don't know what the hell that means!" Her brows furrow. "I don't speak fighter."

You roll your eyes. "Let me dumb it down for you. Before, there was no life left on this planet. Now, there's a lot. I'm assuming there was somehow a mass resurrection of some kind… I just don't know how."

Bulmas ears perk up. "The Dragon Balls. The Earth ones! Someone back home must've made a wish!" That makes sense… and with the Namekian alive, the set on Earth is intact. But that's so many people. The limit must not be as small as you were led to believe. Because that many lives is a massive job. But wait. What's the point?

"Well, why the hell would they do that? This planet is about to blow. Everyone here will just die again. What a waste of a wish." You know the earthlings lack brain cells, but this is a new level. Unless there's another aspect of it that you're just not regarding. Before you can say anything else the sky grows dark. "What the hell?" You poke your head outside. This planet doesn't have a night. There's something about this that's oddly familiar. A strong sense of deja vu flooding your mind. You just can't quite place it.

"Wait." The woman moves closer to you, poking her head out the other side of the door. "I know what's happening. This same thing happens back on Earth when you make a wish." That's it. The Dragon Balls. That must mean the Grand Elder is alive. All that energy you were sensing is the people of Namek, including the elderly one. That must be the plan. To make a second, even larger wish with the Namek ones. But who's even gonna make that wish?

Oh fuck. Frieza can easily take that for himself. All he'd need is one Namekian, which would now be incredibly easy to attain. He only needs a singular feeble hostage to gain his greatest desire. Damn. You turn to the Earth Woman. "I have to go."

"What happened to thinking about things logically?"

"I am. If Frieza gets his wish for immortality, then everything is over." 

"But…You can't just leave me here all--" Without a word, you take off, leaving the Earth woman in your dust. "Why does everyone always abandon me on strange planets!"

Okay, all you have to do is get there before Frieza can. Or do you go to Vegeta and Raditz first? No, wish first, reunions second. You soar, picking up the pace; you don't think you've ever flown this fast. This is the only thing that matters to you. You detest Frieza with every bone in your body. You'll ruin this for him. Just like he ruined everything for you. You'll do whatever it takes. As you formulate a strategy, a bright light surrounds your body. "What the fuck?" You slowly fade out before disappearing entirely.

[luveline]

Hi! Could you please write a daddy-daughter day with Roan and Eddie? Like Eddie and Roan listening to Eddie's music, going to Wayne's, and just doing cute things like when Reader went out with her friends please?

hi sweetheart yes I can, I loved this idea, tyty! dad!eddie x fem!reader, 3k (cw reader is tipsy at the end)

"Okie-smokie," you say, standing at the door with two options. "Ro, pink or silver?" 

You show Roan your earrings. Eddie crams his foot into his sneaker and ties the laces, listening as Roan deliberates your two choices. "I think you should wear the pink ones because you have pink gems on your bracelet." 

He can hear your smile. "I think so too. Thank you, lovely girl." 

"Roan, you have your shoes on still?" Eddie asks, toeing into his second shoe. He stands tall when he's done and brushes down his jeans. "Coat?" 

"I don't know where my coat is," she says. 

"I'll get it," you say. "It's in our room." 

"Okay. You have your purse?" Eddie asks. 

You laugh as you run up the stairs. "Stop doing your dad checklist! We have everything." 

Roan waits by the door in what Eddie believes to be her nicest outfit ever. He's been experimenting with elaborate hairstyles, and this one takes the cake. 

He'd woken her up early for a shower and washed her hair, some tactile bonding to start what's looking to be a great day. She'd nearly fallen back asleep, and again when he was drying it with the cold diffuser. After that he sectioned it and pulled two triangular sections from the front backward, and with the help of four rubber bands and a little bit of hair mousse, he secured it out of her face, curled and pretty. 

She's wearing a short-sleeved white t-shirt under stiff black dungarees with black sneakers. You suggested white sneakers, but Eddie joked that he wouldn't make her look too perfect (her white sneakers are full of mud from when they went looking for frogs last weekend, and he hasn't told you yet). 

"Hey, can you get her, uh, her blue jacket? The navy one? I think her vinyl coat will be too uncomfortable with the short sleeves." 

You appear on the top step already holding it. "I'm psychic." 

Once Roan has been helped into her coat and Eddie's made sure you both have money and water, he locks the door to your (his) house with his key. It took him a long time to start calling it his house. Not that he ever thought you'd shoot him out of it. So far, there hasn't been a day since you got together where he worried it wouldn't last. 

And here the kissing begins. 

You might pretend otherwise, but Eddie knows you're jealous of today. Not in a cruel way, the envy isn't eating you alive or anything, but he knows you wishes you could come, and he also knows you know that's not how these kinds of days work. If you're with them, Eddie would have to share his attention. Alone with Roan, he can pour it all in. You're not so codependent as to resent that, and you're happy for them. But again, you're jealous. 

"Why did I make plans?" you ask him, your hands bunched in his t-shirt. 

"Because you'll have fun," he says, dipping his head down to kiss you. 

You smile and lift one shoulder. "I will. You have fun too, okay?" You bend at the waist to kiss Roan's cheek. After a moment, you kiss the other. "My big girl, you look so grown up today, we should've taken more photos." 

"I think ten was enough," Roan says.

"It wasn't," you and Eddie say at the same time. You sigh morosely, though it's not entirely genuine. 

"Okay, I love you both. Say hi to Uncle Wayne for me." 

"We love you," Eddie says. You pout and get in your car. You've parked behind him, so they stand waving at you as you leave. "She loves you so much," Eddie says to Roan. 

Roan shrugs her shoulders, pleased and trying to be humble about it. "Dad," she grumbles. 

He puts Roan in her car seat and they drive to Uncle Wayne's for lunch. It's not far, but it's enough to listen to Roan's tape, featuring her current favourite song, a nonsensical rock song called 'She Don't Use Jelly' by The Flaming Lips. It's not Eddie's taste but it's worth it just to listen to Roan shouting along to the song, her building excitement before she gets to sing, "He uses maaaa-gazines!" 

After that is Sheryl Crow. Eddie wants to switch the tape to something harder but Roan's already singing, and it's so funny to hear her sing 'All I Wanna Do' that he can't make himself change it. He rolls down the windows so she can feel the wind on her face and she dances in her seat, tripping over the words with gusto. 

Sheryl Crow is all your influence. As soon as the song ends he pops the tape and drives the car at a crawl. He's had Roan's favourite, and then yours, but now it's time for real music. He isn't raising no prep. 

Roan is more than used to rock music. She loves it most of the time, though her taste complicates as she ages. Eddie puts on a tape you made him painstakingly at Christmastime full of ripped live performances, the sort of music you can't find on CD yet. The very first song is 'Sad But True', Metallica live from Mexico, '93. Roan bobs her head up and down with the beat. Eddie literally could not be more proud, better when she pulls out her air guitar and challenges him on who's best. 

After almost crashing the car into the picnic bench on Wayne's front yard, Eddie pulls Roan out, and grins as she races up the steps to the door. She doesn't knock —Wayne's home is Eddie's home is her home. 

"Uncle Wayne!" she bellows. 

The smell of sausages and fried onions is inescapable. Eddie loves Wayne, and he loves his extra special hotdogs, but he can already sense the mess Roan's about to make. Ketchup stains have defeated half her wardrobe over the years. 

Wayne's turning from the stove with a huge grin. He wipes his hands on a rag and chucks it at the counter, bending down with his arms opening to catch Roan as she sprints at him. 

"Oh," he groans, "Hi, Roanie. Where have you been? I told your dad eleven thirty, and it's almost twelve." 

"We had to help Y/N find her nice pants," she says, wrapping her arms around Wayne's neck. 

Wayne gives her a grandfatherly squeeze, adoring but nonchalant. 

"We didn't have to help," Eddie says, "but she made breakfast, so it would've been mean to not help." 

"Still sounds like dad's fault," Wayne says. "Yeah?" 

"Yes," Roan says, turning in Wayne's arms to beam at her betrayed father. 

Wayne kisses her head and puts her down. He asks how you are, to which Eddie can answer honestly. You're good, and you're very happy lately making wedding arrangements even though you don't know what you're doing for lots of it. Roan is still torn on whether she wants to be the best man or the maid of honour. You'd been winning, until Eddie told her she could still wear a dress as best man. 

The hotdogs are ready for eating straight away. Unlike Eddie, Wayne is prepared for Roan's mess. He pins a bib around her that he's had since she was two with a rabbit on the front. It should've been trashed a while ago, but in a show of quiet love, Wayne scrubs it spotless every single time she wears it. The white background is still a bright white. 

They eat hot dogs and talk about nothing. Wayne and Eddie see each other every single day, but Wayne and Roan definitely don't. Now that she's getting older, there's been talks of consistent sleepovers. Eddie doesn't want Wayne to spend all week in work and then have her on the weekend because, while she is an absolute delight, Roan is also hard work, and especially on Fridays when she's tired. But Wayne wants to have her, and Roan loves him more than anything, so sooner or later Eddie's going to have to say yes. 

He won't lie, he could use the break. But not tonight. 

"Dad," Roan says, fried onions and bread falling down her front and back onto her plate.

"Yes, my rude girl?" 

She licks her lips. Wayne tilts her head back to wipe her mouth clean with a paper towel. "Thank you, Uncle Wayne. Dad, can we get a movie tonight?" 

"Yeah, babe, we can get a movie, but I thought you wanted to go to the Hawk?" 

"There's no space for talking in the Hawk." 

"And you want to talk to me," he summarises. 

"Duh. Wayne, can I have more smustard, please?" she asks through chews. 

Wayne meets Eddie's eyes as he squirts mustard on her hotdog. It's a look Eddie didn't know he wanted to see until Wayne started giving it, a mixture of she's funny and you're raising a good one, kid. 

Eddie cleans up the hotdog mess before Wayne can stop him and they dawdle, not wanting to leave but with things to do. They're ten minutes late for their manicure appointments. 

The Hawkins manicurists are slightly judgemental middle-aged women who love Roan. They've seen her a couple of times, once when Eddie had been on a few dates with you but was far from your boyfriend, and Roan wanted, "Pretty nails, like Y/N," after she'd seen your painted nails for a wedding, and then a couple of times after with you, but it's been a while since he was here, and the new young nail technician surprises Eddie. 

"Hi," she says, smiling at Roan, "I know you, don't I? You and your mom came in a couple of weeks ago. How did your gems last?" 

"They came off when we went waterfall walking," Roan says, sounding exuberantly pleased by this. 

"Wow, waterfall walking, that sounds fun!"

"Yes!" 

Eddie grabs Roan under the armpits to help her into the tall chair. "It was fun until her wellies split. She had cold feet." 

"Oh no. What do we want today, miss adventurer? The same as last time, or are we trying something new?" 

Roan looks up at Eddie. He takes a seat beside her, her coat in his lap. "Whatever you want, Ro. No, um, extensions though." 

"No, I wouldn't suggest it," says the nail tech. "Maybe I can show you some pictures and you can see if you like something? I can do whatever you want me to." 

Roan ends up asking for nails that look like the ocean. The nail technician is an artist, creating a beautiful illusion of real water on her nails, and colourful sea creatures on the nails big enough to accommodate them. 

"Are you bringing your wife back soon?" the nail tech asks, covering Roan's skin with her hand as her nails cure under a UV lamp. 

"She's not married, yet," Roan says. 

"She's my fiancé," Eddie says mildly. He kind of liked wife better. "And she doesn't let me spoil her often, so probably not." 

"She couldn't stop talking about you," the nail tech says. "And you," —she nods at Roan— "I was kind of jealous. I'm still jealous. I hope my baby comes out as pretty as you." 

"You're having a baby?" Roan asks, gasping, almost knocking over the UV lamp. 

"I am! Yeah, I am, she's not coming anytime soon though. But by Christmas I'll have her." The nail tech brings a buffing file to Roan's pinky finger and sands against the edge gently. "She better be as nice as you, miss adventurer." 

"I think Ro might be one of a kind," Eddie says. 

Roan smiles at him as though he's hung the moon. 

They visit the video store after the nail salon, hand in hand. Roan is more than ecstatic at the aquarium on her nails, and it's making her sweet. She walks as close to Eddie as she can without stepping on his shoes, and doesn't let go for anything. Or, almost anything. 

"Steve!" she shouts when she sees him, Harrington himself bent over the kids aisle arranging movies. 

"Oh, no," he groans. Roan runs full pelt at him and he pretends to almost fall over. Roan laughs and tugs him back up, and he says thank you with a short hug. "Hi, Roan." He looks up to see Eddie, and glares with a mock disdain. "You. Where's my spirit level?" 

"Your–" Eddie's lips part, and then snap shut. "My bad, Stevie. I still have it, I swear."

"Well give it back, I want to mount my new TV on the wall and I can't because you never answer the phone." 

"I do," Eddie protests. 

"No, you don't, I think I've spoken more to Y/N since you moved in with her than I've spoken to you. Which, actually, I prefer her. And I want you to invite her to my housewarming party next week." 

"Am I invited, too?" Roan asks. 

Steve smiles at her, putting his hand on her shoulder. "Of course you are. Robin's going to bring Mr. Stink too." 

Mr. Stink is Robin's big fat tabby cat. Roan loves him so much she cries every time she has to say goodbye to him.

Eddie and Steve hug and only pat each other on the back once, which is progress. Having guessed why they're there, Steve pulls them into the backroom to show her all the new kids movies, and lets Roan pick as many as she wants to put on his account. Despite his hug and his party invitation, Of course you're invited too, Steve glares at Eddie fiercely from across the checkout counter. "Do not bring them back late, Munson. You cost me six dollars, last time." 

"And I tried to give it back to you," Eddie says, the bag of movies hanging from his elbow, Roan the other. 

"Don't insult me. Bye, my favourite Munson, make sure you bring me a nice drawing for my new fridge," Steve says. He speaks much more kindly to Roan than he does Eddie, but Eddie doesn't think for a moment that Steve doesn't like him. They've just always been like this. 

"Okay! Tell Robin I miss her, please, and Mr. Stinky." 

"Anything for you. Bye, bye," he calls. 

Eddie waves at him and they stroll out of the video store like kings, Eddie with all their movies and Roan with one of the huge bags of ready popped popcorn. She's walking on sunshine with every step, nearly skipping by the time they reach the car. 

He doesn't understand it. Eddie's just Eddie. He doesn't get it, but he has a moment when he's strapping her back into her third car seat, knowing one day she's gonna be so tall they can get away with a booster seat. One day she won't need a car seat at all. He just loves her so much he can’t handle it. 

"Show me those nails again, babe," he says. 

She pulls her wrist up, her fingers hanging down, and says, "Lookit." 

He loves her. She learned it from you. You'd done it as a joke, Roan does it because it makes her feel cool. 

"Gorgeous." He pulls her hands into his. "What else do you want to do today?" 

She shrugs. Eddie strokes down a crop of windblown baby hairs with a licked thumb, waiting for her to decide, but she must get distracted. She reaches out to do the same to him, moving his hair behind his ear. 

"That's for me," she says, looking at the little 'R' behind his ear. 

"Yeah, that's for you. I was going to get your full name, but I couldn't take the pain," he lies. 

Her nose wrinkles in amusement. "Then how did you get the big ones on your arms?" 

"I was less of a crybaby when I had those ones." 

"You're not a crybaby, dad," Roan says, giggling.

He pouts and sniffles at her. "You really mean that?" he asks tearfully. 

Roan pushes his shoulder lightly. 

"Did you decide what you want to do?" 

She nods vehemently. When she tells him what she wants, Eddie really could burst into tears. 

You're a little tiny bit tipsy when you come home that night. You try not to show it, but Eddie knows you better than he knows the back of his own hand, and as soon as you sit down he's taking big sniffs of you to make sure you know you've been found out. 

"Stop, you're like a puppy," you grumble fondly. "Wait, where's my Ro?" 

"Bathroom. Come here, let me take your shoes off." 

You lift a tired foot into his lap. "I had, uh, a margarita. And a cosmo, too. It was happy hour!" 

"Sweetheart, I couldn't care less what hour it was as long as you had fun." 

You preen, your face swinging into his shoulder. One of your earrings jabs his bicep. "Did you have a good day with Roan?" 

"We had a great day." He struggles to get your shoe off as you slide down his arm. "Maybe my favourite day with her I've ever had that wasn't with you." 

"Really? I'm so happy. Oh, wow, what? Nice nails, handsome." 

You pull his hands into your lap. They're painted in a uniform black, but there's a clownfish painted on his thumbnail. "They're super goth," you say. 

"You think so?" 

"The clownfish is a choice. Can I get one too?" 

Eddie kisses your flushed cheek. "Yeah, babe. The nail tech tried to get me to have a seahorse–" 

"Bit on the nose." 

"Exactly," he laughs. "Exactly. But our day was awesome. She was such an angel, and she must've made everyone smile everywhere we went, she–" Eddie sits up, speaking with pride in every word. "We went to Wayne's, and the nail salon, and the video store because she said the movies aren't good for talking and she wanted to talk to me, and I asked her if she wanted to do anything else, and she said," —Eddie squeezes your thigh— "she'd do anything as long as we could have a hug." 

"She has you in the palm of her hand," you laugh, looking up at him with eyes nearly closed. 

Roan skips into the room, hands dripping water, and catapults herself over the armrest back into Eddie's lap. Without asking, she dries her hands on his t-shirt. 

"Hello, princess," you say. 

Roan drags the half-eaten bag of popcorn over to your side. "Hi. I saved you some." 

You take a handful of popcorn and promptly spill it down the front of your shirt. Roan helps you by picking them off of you and eating them, cramming her mouth until her cheeks have chipmunked. 

"Don't do that, you'll choke," Eddie says.

"I won't," she says, little bits of popcorn spraying him. 

"Ro," he laughs, his hand held over her mouth, laughing so hard it wobbles her in his lap. 

[katnissmellarkkk]

as per @rosegardeninwinter’s request that “someone (@katnissmellarkkk) needs to make a bookcomb of all the times Peeta feeds Katniss or orchestrates food being given to her or gives her direction on when to eat because reasons” 🤗

-

The boy never even glanced my way, but I was watching him. Because of the bread, because of the red weal that stood out on his cheekbone. What had she hit him with? My parents never hit us. I couldn’t even imagine it. The boy took one look back to the bakery as if checking that the coast was clear, then his attention back on the pig, he threw a loaf of bread in my direction. The second quickly followed, and he sloshed back to the bakery, closing the kitchen door tightly behind him.

-

I gingerly lift my hand to my head and find it bandaged. This simple gesture leaves me weak and dizzy. Peeta holds a bottle to my lips and I drink thirstily.

-

“No, it’s good. You need to eat. I’ll go hunting soon,” I say.

“Not too soon, all right?” he says. “You just let me take care of you for a while.”

I don’t really seem to have much choice. Peeta feeds me bites of groosling and raisins and makes me drink plenty of water. He rubs some warmth back into my feet and wraps them in his jacket before tucking the sleeping bag back up around my chin.

-

Every cell in my body wants me to dig into the stew and cram it, handful by handful into my mouth. But Peeta’s voice stops me. “We better take it slow on that stew. Remember the first night on the train? The rich food made me sick and I wasn’t even starving then.”

“You’re right. And I could just inhale the whole thing!” I say regretfully. But I don’t. We are quite sensible. We each have a roll, half an apple, and an egg-size serving of stew and rice. I make myself eat the stew in tiny spoonfuls — they even sent us silverware and plates — savoring each bite. When we finish, I stare longingly at the dish. “I want more.”

“Me too. Tell you what. We wait an hour, if it stays down, then we get another serving,” Peeta says.

-

“It’s just . . . if we didn’t win . . . I wanted Thresh to. Because he let me go. And because of Rue.”

“Yeah, I know,” says Peeta. “But this means we’re one step closer to District Twelve.” He nudges a plate of food into my hands. “Eat. It’s still warm.”

I take a bite of the stew to show I don’t really care, but it’s like glue in my mouth and takes a lot of effort to swallow.

-

When Peeta wakes me later, the first thing I register is the smell of goat cheese. He’s holding out half a roll spread with the creamy white stuff and topped with apple slices. “Don’t be mad,” he says. “I had to eat again. Here’s your half.”

-

Peeta smiles and douses Haymitch’s knife in white liquor from a bottle on the floor. He wipes the blade clean on his shirttail and slices the bread. Peeta keeps all of us in fresh baked goods. I hunt. He bakes. Haymitch drinks. We have our own ways to stay busy, to keep thoughts of our time as contestants in the Hunger Games at bay. It’s not until he’s handed Haymitch the heel that he even looks at me for the first time. “Would you like a piece?”

-

He picks up one of the flowered cookies and examines it. “Lovely. Your mother made these?”

“Peeta.” And for the first time, I find I can’t hold his gaze. I reach for my tea but set it back down when I hear the cup rattling against the saucer. To cover I quickly take a cookie.

“Peeta. How is the love of your life?” he asks.

“Good,” I say.

-

“I want to taste everything in the room,” I tell Peeta.

I can see him trying to read my expression, to figure out my transformation. Since he doesn’t know that President Snow thinks I have failed, he can only assume that I think we have succeeded. Perhaps even that I have some genuine happiness at our engagement. His eyes reflect his puzzlement but only briefly, because we’re on camera. “Then you’d better pace yourself,” he says.

“Okay, no more than one bite of each dish,” I say.

-

Since Mags seems to have no ill effects from the nuts, Peeta collects bunches of them and fries them by bouncing them off the force field. He methodically peels off the shells, piling the meats on a leaf. I stand guard, fidgety and hot and raw with the emotions of the day.

[…]

Mags has also plaited several bowls that Peeta has filled with roasted nuts.

-

“Can we eat [the 🐀]?” Peeta asks.

“I don’t know for sure. But his meat doesn’t look that different from a squirrel’s. He ought to be cooked. . . .” […]

Peeta has another idea. He takes a cube of rodent meat, skewers it on the tip of a pointed stick, and lets it fall into the force field. There’s a sharp sizzle and the stick flies back. The chunk of meat is blackened on the outside but well cooked inside. We give him a round of applause, then quickly stop, remembering where we are.

-

I poke around in the pile, about to settle on some cod chowder, when Peeta holds out a can to me. “Here.”

I take it, not knowing what to expect. The label reads LAMB STEW.

I press my lips together at the memories of rain dripping through stones, my inept attempts at flirting, and the aroma of my favorite Capitol dish in the chilly air. So some part of it must still be in his head, too. How happy, how hungry, how close we were when that picnic basket arrived outside our cave. “Thanks.” I pop open the top. “It even has dried plums.” I bend the lid and use it as a makeshift spoon, scooping a bit into my mouth. Now this place tastes like the arena, too.

-

Peeta, bearing a warm loaf of bread, shows up with Greasy Sae. She makes us breakfast and I feed all my bacon to Buttercup.

-

[flower-boi16]

Helluva Boss: A Show For "Mature" Audiences That Isn't Very Mature

Something that's very funny to me is how Helluva Boss is an adult show, meaning that its supposed to be mature, and more mature than a kids show. However, the show really isn't that mature when you really think about it; sure, it's supposed to be viewed for mature audiences, and It by no means is for kids at all but...HB is really just the superficial version of mature. The show constantly crams in gore, swears and sex jokes all the damn time as a way to just appear edgy. It's not mature as in "it has mature and deep messages and themes" its the superficial version of mature, the type of mature that's just "let's shove in a bunch of swears and sex jokes into this show so people can KNOW its for adults!".

The show feels like its trying so damn hard to be edgy and crams swears and sex jokes into its dialogue because its an "adult" show. 70% of the dialogue in this show is awful because of the amount times it feels the need to shove in swears and sex jokes into every single line the characters say. It feels like the show is just..trying to be edgy with no substance to it. The only really mature theme HB has is Stolas's sexual desires for Blitz...but now its just completely dropped as Stolitz is suppoused to be seen as a healthy reletionship for some reason.

A majority of the villains are very one-dimensional Saturday morning cartoon villains too. HB feels like a show that's just overly obsessed with being edgy so it can come across as "mature". And while you can technically say that HB is mature as the show isn't exactly for kids and is aimed towards adults, again, its only the superficial version of mature, the show isn't really that mature in terms of its actual writing.

But here's the REAL kicker here; the shows I primarily enjoy watching are kids shows on Disney Channel, and...well, lets take a look at the themes and messages of these shows aimed towards kids that I've seen, shall we?

Gravity Falls: Tells a story about growing up, and how, while growing up may seem hard, you don't have to grow up alone, and that even when you grow up, that doesn't mean you have to let go

Amphibia: Tells a story about three girls who are all heavily flawed people in a toxic friendship. Ends with a message about change and how while it may be hard, sometimes; things change, and you need to accept that.

The Owl House: Tells a story about a girl who was ostracized for her whole life who was able to make real connections with others and find a place where she truely belongs.

Ducktales: Has an old man rediscover the value of family after pushing away his loved ones after losing his niece

Moon Girl and Devil Dinosaur: Has an episode where the main message is that you should stand up for your community, and how you can make your voice be heard no matter what.

The Ghost and Molly Mcgee (SPOILERS FOR THE FINALE): Final episode has a beautiful and mature message about how you should spend your life to the fullest, take risks and not be afraid or play it safe, and has a character go and spend his life to the fullest when he becomes human again

These "kids shows" have more mature and thoughtful messages and themes as well as better writing than this "adult" show. Helluva Boss has me groaning and getting frustrated at all the bad writing and wasted potential in its second season. Meanwhile, Amphibia's second season almost gets me to cry not once, but twice. These shows have more compelling and nuanced characters than HB, they don't constantly try to coddle them and absolve them of their mistakes, rather for some of them, they make the characters actually grow as people, something HB has NOT done at all.

Helluva Boss is an adult show, yet these kids' shows not only have more nuanced characters than it, but they are also unironically more mature than HB despite being shows targeted towards a younger audience. Its extremely funny to me how Viv said that HB is "Bojack Horseman with demons" when HB is less mature than kids' shows that aired on the Disney Channel.

Helluva Boss isn't a mature show, it's just an overly edgy one.

[shegxox]

unsaid | lookism

getting used to being alone until you met your newfound friends at J high.

notes: hella long, unedited e.e fluff, vasco moments bc i love him, friendship moments, and some '👀' moments as well towards the end.

wc:

a.n: decided to turn this into a series with a scattered plot as well, meaning the timeline wouldn't flow in proper order,

previous : next

SOMETHING was off.

It was oddly peaceful today.

Your hand stopped sketching on your canvas, squinting your eyes in suspicion from the sudden realization. Ever since you got here in J high– specifically after meeting your friends here– there was rarely a normal day.

Rare mostly because of Vasco.

There's no such thing as a quiet day when you're friends with that guy.

He usually bursts through the doors of your classroom every morning just to greet you, or whenever lunchtime draws near he'd suddenly pop out of nowhere and invite you to eat with him together with a bunch of burn knuckles members faithfully trailing behind him.

That's just the fifty percent, the other half goes to the guys at the fashion department.

But today, it seemed like world peace has come and touched today's date for a moment.

No loud greetings from the morning nor lunch invites, you didn't even see Daniel, Mira, Zack– or even Jay with his striking blond hair.

It was definitely odd, you thought to yourself.

Perhaps today is a specially busy day? Exams are drawing near too, so that could be the reason. Then again you barely came out of your classroom today as well. You used your lunchtime to cram your deadlines and have barely eaten much, honestly whenever you start working you just go on and on until someone calls you to pause.

Yeah, that's right.

It really must be a busy day today.

Shrugging to yourself with your formed conclusion, you continued on with your sketch.

"Um, [Name]?" You felt a light tap on your shoulder.

"Hm?"

"This handsome guy from outside wanted me to give this to you. . ."

Handsome?

You finally turned to look at the person talking to you and found them with their hand out and holding a piece of paper.

Was it Daniel? You looked over at your classmate and to the door, but there was no one there. It's either him or Vasco that often visits your classroom

You flashed your classmate a kind smile, taking the paper.

"Thank you, Yeji."

With that, they left your side and went on with their respective work.

Unfolding the paper, your quirked an eyebrow from the message.

It was merely an address of some location and a time specified– 6:00 p.m

It looked shady, but your trust in the message was validated as soon as you recognized Daniel's handwriting and signature at the bottom.

"Ya," you called out to your seatmate, "Do you know what place this is?"

Your classmate turned to you as you showed the paper, subtly covering Daniel's sign with your thumb.

"Ah, that place." They nodded in familiarity. "That's actually a pretty sweet karaoke place."

Question marks immediately formed on top of your head.

"Karaoke?"

"Oh–! if you ever go there they also serve some steaks as well. You have to try the–"

Your classmate's words faded through the background as you started to question yourself.

'Why would they want me to go there?' You wondered as you finish up on your sketch before pulling out your painting materials. 'A special occasion perhaps?'

Sighing, you tried to put the thought at the back of your mind, shifting your focus once again on your project. Though you have to admit, it perfectly played around with your curiosity a tad bit, catching yourself wondering about it every now and then.

"Alright, that's it for today." Your teacher announced. "You are all dismissed– cleaners for today, you know what to do."

"Bye, miss!"

"Thank you, miss!"

You checked the time, there's still an hour and a half before the designated time of the note, what should you do for now?

"I'll stay a bit behind," You told your friend– who was the assigned cleaner for today. "You guys go, I'll clean up after."

"Ah, [Name], you're an angel!" Your friend exclaimed, giving you a quick hug and a playful smooch on the side of your head making you laugh.

"Ya!"

"I owe you one!"

With that, they were out of the room as you continued with your painting. You thought it'd be better to finish it now so you wouldn't have to do much tomorrow since it's the weekend.

"I'll go at 5:30," you uttered to yourself, "Takes 30 minutes to go there anyway. . ."

It was a good plan, except you forgot one thing.

You suck at directions.

And here's one more–

The street where the Karaoke place is?

You've never been there before.

"Fuck." Your eyebrows scrunched together as you look at the GPS on your phone, you're supposed to be facing some shop right now but instead you're facing a dark alleyway.

Timecheck, it's already 5:55. If you don't figure out where you're at right now, you're definitely gonna be late for. . .whatever this is.

"Dammit," You clicked your tongue in annoyance. "How hard is it to find a Karaoke hub with literal neon lights flashing at the front???"

You scratched your head aggressively in irritation, "Where the fuck am I??"

Looking around, the street looked like some scary setting for a horror movie, even worse– it's already getting dark.

You sighed, prompting to call Daniel about your whereabouts. What's the best thing to do when you're lost? Inform your friends, they'll definitely come and find you. . .hopefully.

As you punched in Daniel's number and place the phone on your ear, you just so happen to look up to the skies. Your left eyebrow quirks up from the uncommon sight that you see: balloons.

To be precise, a couple of pink ballons tied together at the end floating away in space.

'Man,' you thought pitifully. 'Whoever kid that let that slip must be crying right now.'

Just as those thoughts came to your mind, you suddenly heard distant cries coming up behind you

"NO! THE BALLOONS!"

"YA! DON'T CHASE THEM, THEY'RE SO FAR UP ALREADY!"

Two voices– the first one sounded so distraught while the other sounded more panicked. They're probably the owners of the balloons that you just saw floating away.

But. . . why do they sound like grown men–

"I CAN'T!" Their voice were getting nearer, they must be right behind you. "THOSE WERE FOR [NAME]!"

Instantly, your eyebrows shot upwards and eyes widened upon hearing your name.

'[Name]?'

Now that you think about it, their voices sound familiar. . .

You whipped your head in their direction, only to be caught in surprise.

"Vasco??"

He was running in your direction as you ended the call on your phone.

"[Name]??" The person behind Vasco cried out your name in surprise.

"Jace??"

"Balloons!" Vasco yelled tearfully as he stretched out his hand–as if doing so would make him able to reach them. Jace finally grabs a hold of his friend's tanktop, making him stop.

"Vasco, [Name]'s here!" He hissed in a hushed tone. "Stop it!"

"But–" Vasco turned to you with a tearful look, pointing at the distant balloons flying higher and higher. "The balloons. . ."

You raised an eyebrow as you placed your hands on his shoulders in an attempt to calm him down.

"Hey, hey– it's just balloons," You assured, soothing his arms with your thumbs. "It's okay. . ?"

"[N-Name], what are you doing here??" Jace intervened. "You're supposed to be at the Ka–"

"But the balloons are for you." Vasco suddenly revealed, tears falling down his face, "And I let them slip away–"

By now, Jace's mouth fell and his eyes turned white from Vasco's words.

"What?" You huffed a laugh, "For me? Why?"

"Cause–"

"AHAHAHA–" Jace slapped a hand over his friend's mouth harshly. "Oh, Vasco! You know him, he has a little crush on you and wanted to get you some!"

You gave Jace a look, ". . .Really? You could do better than that. . ."

"It was supposed to be a surprise." Vasco sulked. "I remembered you saying you wanted them. . ."

Ah.

Your lips parted as realization slowly started to dawn on you.

Surprise. . .

Balloons as something you wanted. . .

But that's for–

You hastily checked your phone and felt your heart pound heavily against your chest.

"You. . ." You uttered under your breath as you gaze at Vasco with wide eyes.

"My birthday. . ."

Jace facepalmed at the background.

Vasco's eyebrows furrowed as he stood up straight, taking your hands with his.

"I'm sorry, [Name]." He says sincerely. "I'll get you more balloons later."

You were still in disbelief from what was happening, "What– When did you–"

"We were supposed to surprise you." Jace sighed, finally deciding to reveal everything. "You said that you never celebrated your birthday so we came up with this."

"Why. . ?"

Why would they ever do this to you? Is your relationship with them even qualified for something like this–

"Why? Cause you're our friend!" Jace said, scoffing a laugh.

A friend.

They consider you as. . . their friend.

Huh.

Your heart throbbed painfully against your chest.

All those years of being alone and being treated like some product instead of a normal human being– they're suddenly flashing in a fast forward motion in your head.

Why now?

Vasco released your hands before taking out something from his pocket.

"Here, these are for you–" Vasco held out a couple of hibiscus in his palms. "The flowers at the store were expensive, so I uh– I just picked these off the street. . ."

Jace sweatdropped, "Vasco. . ."

Weakly lifting your hands in a cupping position, Vasco then placed the flowers on your palm. Most of their petals looked squished–probably because he stored them in his pockets, nevertheless, still beautiful.

You could feel a lump in your throat starting to form, suddenly finding it hard to swallow.

Is it proper to feel like this?

Are you allowed to?

You looked up to Vasco, eyebrows furrowed.

"Vasco. . ."

The man's eyes widened.

"H-Hey, [Name], are you okay?" He asked worriedly, noticing how your eyes suddenly turned glassy. "Do you not. . .like them?"

Jace looked at you as well, concern wrapping his expression.

"[Name]?"

Vasco started to panic, his hands hovering over your form, not knowing what to do.

"S-Sorry! If you dont like them I could just–"

The man's words were cut off as soon as you suddenly threw yourself to him. Wrapping your arms around him, engulfing him in your embrace. You stood on your tiptoes with your face buried on his chest.

For the first time in your life. . .

Are you allowed to feel this happy?

"Thank you." You uttered, before pulling away to look at him once again.

"[Name], you're–"

"This is my first time receiving a gift." You smiled brightly. "The first gift I ever had."

Vasco's eyes soften as he gazed at you, tears flowing down your cheeks.

"So this is what it feels like," You laughed. "I feel so happy."

The two men shared a look before mirroring your smile.

"I'm glad you're happy," Vasco said, placing his big hand on your head, patting it gently.

"I love your gift." You added, holding the flowers close to your chest. "I will treasure it forever."

After all that event, Jace gave Daniel a call and updated him of what happened. Shame that the surprise party was kind of ruined, but even so, it continued.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, [NAME]!" Your friends screamed happily as soon as the door to the karaoke room opened.

Almost everyone was there, giving you bright smiles and genuine expressions on their faces, you could feel butterflies fluttering around your stomach.

"You guys. . ." Your lips curved into a downturned smile, feeling like crying again.

Is this what it really feels like to have others care for you?

You cry either way like before but this time, they were tears of joy.

"Awe, [Name]." Mira approached you with open arms. "Come here."

"Oh, let me join in!" Joy chimed bouncing on her heels before aproaching the two of you.

Daniel stepped forward as well.

"Everyone deserves to be celebrated every once in a while." He smiled. "Thank you for being here, [Name]."

Your lips quivered at his words.

"Ah–" Zoe playfully hit Daniel. "You made her cry!"

"E-Eh???"

"Oh cut the emotional shit!" Zack cried out, standing up on his sit with a mic in hand, smirking.

"Let's get this party started!"

To say that you're happy with today would be an understatement. You're way happier than happy. If you were to describe what you were feeling, it would probably be a mix of all the synonyms of the words happy to form one great word.

You were over the moon.

You felt like you're the sun itself.

It felt too good to be true.

This happiness you feel is something you will hold on to for a long time.

To be surrounded by people who actually care about you makes your heart swell. You've never felt this way before.

"Don't mess this up, you got this." Zack coached you from the side

Jace started to hover his hands on his ears, "Oh god, it's coming."

"Sing from your stomach!" Daniel advised with an excited grin.

"You can do this, [Name]!"

You readied your voice as you held onto the mic tighter.

One, Two–

"–I'M IN MY DREAAAM!"

"WOOO!!"

"LET'S GOOO!"

Chorus of laughter and cheers filled the room, even Jay was dramatically clapping along with the group.

"IU WHO?"

"That was amazing!" Vasco excitedly exclaimed before repeatedly pointing at the songbook. "Let's duet this next!"

"Huh??" Zack made a face. "You can't take that, Mira and I will sing that!"

"Eh? Then just chose another song?"

"No, I can't just do that, it has to be that!"

"Zack. . ."

"Mira, that's our song, right??"

The door to the room suddenly opened and revealed Jay.

"Oh, Jay–" Daniel greeted with an endearing smile. "You're back!"

Jay had stepped out for a moment earlier and has finally returned. The blond gave a small smile and a nod.

He then turned to you, grabbing your attention.

"What is it, Jay."

Suddenly taking something from his side that was out of view, he then held out something and revealed–

"OH MY GOSH!"

You exclaimed, your mouth dropping as you fanned yourself slightly before eagerly making your way to Jay.

"Is this for me??"

The blond nodded.

In his hands, he held a big Alpaca plushie dressed in Gucci that was literally half your size.

"Thank you so much, Jay!" Wrapping your arms around him, you gave him a big hug with the plushie in between the two of you.

"That's so adorable!" Zoe commented, coming in as you pulled away and Jay handed you your gift.

Joy had a look of realization in her face, "So that's what you've been making calls for last night."

"Is this custom-made?" Daniel asked and Jay nodded in reply.

"Ugh, it's so soft!" You exclaimed, hugging the plushie tight.

"Since you're not singing, Mira and I will sing our song!" Zack announced, snatching the mic from Vasco.

"YA!"

The night went on for a few more hours and you're just in complete bliss. Your first birthday celebration is definitely something to remember.

You didn't want it to end, but, alas– some good things come to an end.

As soon as the party was over, half of the people were already drunk–of course, you're one of them.

You didn't know exactly how you even managed to get into your apartment when everything went like a blur to you, you just woke up in your room bedroom and. . .

"What the hell. . ." You murmured to yourself, eyes squinting from the sunlight that was seeping through the window. The hangover– you expected, but your room to be filled with pink balloons floating on your ceiling? You had to check if you were still drunk or dreaming.

Did they do this?

Definitely not, no one can acces your apartment but you.

They can't just decorate your room so suddenly like this?

". . ."

There's only one person you could think of.

As you looked to your side, a large bouquet of roses sat neatly on your nightstand with a black card sticking out in the midst of reds.

Suddenly, you heard a noise just outside your room, and it sounded like someone. . . cooking?

Your eyes widened, hastily getting up from your bed– stumbling on the floor as you did so, you went for the door and almost ripped the hinges from opening it so aggressively.

Your heart dropped to your stomach as soon as you saw the person in your kitchen.

"I see you're awake." They said aloud through the sizzling noises of the pan, not even bothering to look up from their work.

"Did you like the balloons? I remember you liking them like an idiot as a kid."

Your face fell blank. He just had to find you after your birthday huh?

"The roses weren't as fresh as they were yesterday, but they should still be good."

Ah. . .

Since yesterday, huh?

If you your friend's hadn't planned out your party then. . .

"What are you doing here, Gun."

[slylock-syl]

Hey Syllll! Long time, no chat! I just wanted to get this off my chest before i go ham trying to figure out what i wanna commission from you soon.

I have been reading Undersource for years now, and i think we've both come a long way since then! God, that feels weird to say, i'm not even old enough to drink yet lmao. But! I am old enough to spend my money responsibly now, which is nuts given that my responsible spending is now aimed at getting art of my blorbos LOL.

You've grown as an artist so much since i first started reading- i think that was around... the pirate arc? Not sure! But i do remember the early days of me having discord, during the EKD server category era. But anyways, i know the way you drew our favorite skeletons was different back then, and it's all gotten so much smoother in that time. You're also (at least seemingly) taking way better care of yourself! You've set boundaries, you've set more time for yourself and not the blog, and you're still happily chugging along, after all these years. Not to mention you're working on this side story now, which i'm fairly certain you've been looking forward to for a while.

How's that sleeping though? Do you still have the sleep cycle of an austalian? Can't say i'm any better, im slowly becoming nocturnal again lol. Some things NEVER change.

Anyways. All this to say: im really proud to have been part of this little community for so long. To see the comic and its artist come so far. Even if im not a diehard fan anymore, im glad i can still take a little time every weekend to realize "OH, U/S shoulda updated!" and run over here. Thanks for giving me a good starting point of community on this god damned hellsite.

(Here's to sleepy 5 am "you're great" asks LMAO)

sjksdhLKSDJFHG THIS IS SUCH A SWEET MESSAGE OMG-

Hi Azzy! :D I'm glad you still like my work even after all this time! Thank you for sticking around! :D

I have been taking better care of myself these days! I'm (only sometimes begrudgingly XD) going on daily walks (Pikmin Bloom is really helping with that, I love Pikmin they're so cute), and made some new friends! When I first started this blog I was convinced I had to constantly/frequently produce content, and I time went on I slowly realized that wasn't really viable, so I slowly trimmed down the workloads for better manageability, I'd say it's helped a lot! Even if it may not look like it sometimes XD

There was a point before I adjusted my work schedule where I figured out that I may have been riding a creative burnout for a long while, as when I looked back it felt like my work had begun to visually stagnate. I think at the time I was cramming working on the comic update across only 3 or 4 days (Wednesday/Thursday to Saturday mornings, sometimes down to the wire), with several hours of just constant work (plus any distractions and 3 daily asks) because I was procrastinating so badly X'D I'm still recovering from the visual stagnation, but I'm definitely trying to experiment where I can! I may not be the best at it but I hope I'm improving at least ksjdghLSDGH My current schedule is MUCH more spaced out and much more manageable, spanning Sunday to Friday and broken down into stages for each day, and Saturdays are my designated day off~

As for the side story, it's one I've had around for quite a while and have been excited to finally show off! There were a few people who were interested in it when it was first teased, though I've no idea if they're still around, if they are I hope they're enjoying the story so far as well! 💜

Oddly enough my sleep schedule is no longer on Cthulhu Standard Time SKSDJGHDLG We had a TON of construction going on in the house the past few months and it was way too awkward to sleep with a bunch of strangers either being in or near my room, as well as making a LOT of noise sjkdhgLKSDJG There was a brief section of time where I'd actually go to bed at a "normal" time and get up at like, 9 or 10 am X'D Though it's slowly sneaking it's way into afternoons to 3 or 4 AM after I feed the kitties, kinda like my old college schedule XD

Thank you again for liking my work and sticking around! I really appreciate it!! :D

I may not be anywhere near whatever my "peak" was a few years ago, but I'm still happy to keep going for those who still come around! 💜

[duhragonball]

Dragon Ball Super Manga Ch. 94-96

We're still reading the Super Hero adaptation! It's not great!

Things continue pretty much like they did in the movie, although it's a little awkward how Chapter 94 opens with Pan waiting to get picked up from school, just like she was in Chapter 91, because Toyotaro wanted to show Piccolo doing a "normal" kindergarten pickup as a prelude to the story. And that might have seemed like a good idea on paper. You know, contrast a routine encounter with the zany scene we got in the movie. The problem is that it undermines the zany scene when we finally get to it. The whole point is that a "normal" version isn't that interesting to see, which is why they didn't show Gohan cooking breakfast or Dr. Hedo brushing his teeth in the movie.

Anyway, you read chapter 91 and it feels like they skipped to the middle of the movie because Pan's waiting at kindergarten. Then you get to Chapter 94 and you see Pan waiting at kindergarten again and think the story is starting over. Or was it preschool? The manga version has a sign over the property that reads "kindergarten", but Pan's only three so I don't know. Piccolo knocked her into a bunch of rocks earlier in the day, and now he's taking her home with a layover at Red Ribbon HQ, so the point of all of this is that nothing is really ever "normal" with Dragon Ball.

Back to the manga, Toyotaro drags out this scene by having a cop take notice of the Red Ribbon aircraft, but he immediately decides it's okay once he finds out it's for Mr. Satan's granddaughter. This might be the same cop who helped Goku find Bulma's house for the first time in the original Red Ribbon Army Saga, but I'm not interested in looking it up.

So once again, Toyotaro seems determined to cram in new material to this story, but it's always designed to be as dull as possible, answering questions no one asked. Why didn't Piccolo get a ticket for the aircraft being parked on the street? For the zero people who were concerned about this, Toyotaro heroically includes a traffic cop whose sole purpose is to remind us that it doesn't actually matter.

Chapter 94 continues up to the first leg of the Gohan/Gamma 1 fight. There's some changes to the fight choreography, but I'm not gonna do a side-by-side analysis or anything. It pretty much has to be different because of the medium involved. I'm pretty sure Gohan firing a Kamehameha is new, as is Gamma 1 shooting at him to counterattack. But I could be wrong.

While Gohan powers up to his Ultimate/Mystic/Elder Kai Unlock form, Krillin's family is just getting out of the movie theater where they watched Cleangod 2. I mentioned this scene before, but now that we're here, this is Teen Marron's only appearance in Dragon Ball Super, and here's the big pitch for the character: She's a huge fan of Cleangod. Just like Goten! And Trunks. And... Dr. Hedo. I'm not impressed.

Krillin senses Gohan fighting, then he gets a call from Police HQ.

For some reason, Krillin runs off and hides while he takes the call? Are people not supposed to know he's a cop? Everyone keeps staring at him the whole time, so if he's trying to keep this a secret, he's doing a lousy job of it. Also, when 18 asks him who he's talking to, she doesn't seem to believe his answer, so she insists on tagging along with him. Does... 18 not know Krillin's a cop? What is going on here?

The dumbest part of all of this is that Nutz is calling Krillin to tell him about the battle at the Red Ribbon Army base. Remember how she had Krillin follow Magenta and Hedo in Chapter 91? Because they knew Magenta had a secret base but they didn't know where it was? And then Krillin lost them before he could find it?

Okay, so apparently the police had suspected that it was in that crater lake, camouflaged by a hologram. In fact, they've suspected this for so long that they've been monitoring the lake with cameras, and when Gohan went ultimate he disrupted the hologram and revealed the base. Now they want Krillin to reconnoiter the area before they send in a bunch of guys.

This is just really dumb. I mean, if the police suspected the base was inside the lake, why didn't they just send Krillin to check it out in the first place? He could have gone there months ago, and if it was just a lake, the worst thing that would have happened is he'd get wet. But if it was a secret mercenary base, he could have just snuck in and out as easily as Piccolo did in this story. It would have been even easier, since Krillin's less conspicuous than Piccolo, and the Red Ribbon wouldn't have had Hedo's androids for support. Hell, Krillin could have taken out the entire base by himself, and all they had to do was send him to the lake that they were already monitoring.

Also, why is it the West City Police Department's job to bust the Red Ribbon Army? Isn't that a job for the Royal Military? None of this makes any sense. I mean, the purpose is to add more Krillin content to the story, but it's so forced that it becomes nonsensical. The movie makes so much more sense without the police involved at all. Again, it's another question that no one asked. "Why didn't the police find the Red Ribbon Army's hidden base?" Because it's a hidden base, that's why not!

Toyotaro seems almost desperate to give these fictional cops a chance to save face. Well they were trying very hard to locate the base, but they just couldn't find it before Piccolo did. Except his depiction of their efforts just makes them look worse. Sergeant Nutz seems to know everything about the Red Ribbon Army. She knew Magenta was secretly rebuilding it, she knew he was planning to contact Dr. Hedo, and when he would do it. She was even pretty sure where the Red Ribbon base was. Yet despite all this inside information, she still couldn't figure out how to respond to it.

All of this makes it look like a set up to explain Krillin showing up at the end of the movie, except, no, that's not what happens. He shows up at the end because Bulma calls him and tells him what's happening. Toyotaro saw the movie and thought: "No! That's not enough! We need three reasons for Krillin to go to the lake!"

1. He senses Gohan's ki from the battle. 2. Sgt. Nutz calls him and tells him to go check out the base. 3. Bulma calls him and tells him Piccolo is at the base.

Is that enough? Does Krillin have sufficient motivation to go yet? I'm not sure, let's throw in some more reasons.

4. Krillin is visited by the ghost of the pirates from that underwater cave. The ghost tells him that the Red Ribbon stole his treasure and hid it in the lake, so he pleads with Krillin to recover it so the pirates can rest in peace. 5. Marron really wants to check out the crater lake, becuase Cleangod 2 had a scene that was filmed there. 6. Vegeta briefly pops in using his manga-only Instant Transmission. He asks Krillin to check on a three-layer cake he ordered from the bakery, but Krillin mishears him and thinks he said "crater lake". 7. The Supreme Kai of Time deputizes Krillin into the Time Patrol and informs him of a temporal anomaly at the crater lake. 8. Krillin was going there anyway because it's on his way home.

Back to the fight, not much is different, although there's a brief moment where Piccolo coaches Gohan before they resume fighting their respective opponents. This is kind of redundant, because they both already understood they were fighting androids, and they're already in their strongest forms (as far as they know), so Piccolo is just stating the obvious here. At least he isn't telepathically summoning Krillin to get his butt over here. Piccolo actually trusts the plot of this movie.

The Gammas aren't quite as powerful in this version, so 2 has to give a little assist to 1, then they consider double-teaming Piccolo to improve their chances. This doesn't last long, though, since it's not like Gohan was just going to stand there and let Piccolo get beat down.

At Capsule Corp, Bulma starts assembling a squad to help Piccolo, and is surprised to learn that Trunks already knows about Dr. Hedo. She asks him why he never mentioned any of this before, and finally, finally, Toyotaro has come up with a question someone might have actually asked. Why didn't Trunks tell Bulma about all of this? Because he would have gotten in trouble for playing superhero, and also because Bulma wouldn't have taken his story seriously even if he had said anything.

So Bulma admits that she goofed, but now she ungrounds Trunks (and Goten, since he just showed up), and she wants them to join Piccolo in battle.

But she immediately regrets it, because Goten and Trunks can't pinpoint Piccolo's location with their ki senses. And this is Big Goten in a nutshell. The boys are eager to get in on the action, but they lack the skill and focus to be effective. They're basically the opposite of what Gohan was in his childhood. Gohan was constantly caught between adventure and study, and he ended up excelling in both things. But Goten and Trunks really don't get pushed hard in either direction. They don't have much motivation to study, and they're not very good at adventure stuff either. Bulma's giving them a chance to be heroes and they're blowing it.

Anyway, she calls Piccolo, and when he doesn't answer, she calls Krillin, which is the canonical reason they all show up together at the end of the story.

Oh, and here's an awesome shot of Cell Max. I can't stress this enough: The art in this thing is tremendous, but the writing is just dull as can be. Everything's either a rerun or a pointless filler scene.

When Cell Max crawls out to fight all the good guys, Goten and Trunks offer to give Piccolo and Gohan a breather, and they switch to their Saiyaman X-1 and X-2 suits. Pan's into it, but everyone else find it dumb. I guess Marron should have come along and maybe she'd enjoy this...

[mysticdragon3art]

Faebruary 2024, days 1-9. Experiments in learning to draw chibi Ballister Boldheart fairy.

2 days ago, I finally remembered the Faebruary drawing challenge, which I always look forward to (because I like drawing butterfly fairies), but I always forget (because it's February). So I tried to cram in a bunch of catch-up drawings.

Every Faebruary, I draw chibi butterfly fairies of my current OTPs. This year, it's Goldenheart.

But I still need to learn to draw both Ballister and Ambrosius. And I'm still testing out which of my Copic colors to use for them. I'm especially having trouble drawing Ballister's hair, from a front point of view. I keep wanting to draw the upturn at the back of his hair, even though it's not visible when he is facing directly straight ahead. It's really hard to not draw the upturn, after those years of drawing Claude von Riegan.

This time, I've chosen real life butterfly wings to base theirs off of, instead of making up my own designs. Because Ballister's comic book name is "Blackheart", I'm basing his wings off the "Uranothauma nubifer" or "black heart" butterfly. Ambrosius Goldenloin's wings will be based on the "Wallace's golden birdwing" butterfly, because that was the first butterfly with the word "golden" in its name that appeared in Google search.

The problem is that I think I might have referenced the wrong pictures for the "black heart" butterfly. A Google search shows many different looking "black heart" butterflies. It's difficult to know which pic to reference. I initially went with Wikispecies's pic, since it was specifically labelled "Uranothauma nubifer". But it's also labelled "Uranotauma nubifer, as Lycaena nubifer Trimen", so it might be a different variation of that butterfly. Maybe??? I went with the mostly solid brown wing from Wikispecies's reference, since that would be easier to draw/color. But I later found several other websites specifically labelling photos of the "black heart" butterfly, which look completely different from Wikispecies's mostly solid brown wings. They're mostly gray and tan speckles on white. So I tried to stylize a design based on the more speckled "black heart" butterfly wings. I'm still trying to simplify it in a way that is easy to draw. And I'm still trying to figure out colors that don't get confusing when juxtaposed by Ballister's skin or clothing.

I usually draw my fairies without shoes, but I wanted to practice drawing Ballister's (and Ambrosius's) full outfits, since I'm just starting to learn to draw them. Also, their regular clothes are close enough to the "medieval fantasy"-inspired fashion that I usually draw my fairies in.

I was unsure about adding Ballister's cybernetic arm. How would a fairy get a tiny cybernetic arm? Does their hidden fairy society in the woods, have a whole system of technological equipment and supplies? Does a human use magnifying glass spectacles and miniature cybernetics to make a tiny robot arm for him??? So I skipped the whole subject by not drawing his robot arm.

2/8-10/2024. No pencil underdrawings. Platinum Preppy fountain pen, using Noodler's Ink. Colored with Copic markers and a Daiso Fluently marker. Some corrections made with white-out, Gelly Roll white gel pen, and digitally with Krita.

[hyugaruma]

House Party (Nakagoshi x Reader)

♡

re: you have a bit of a crush on your friend…

me and my headcanon that nakaoka would have an average businessman older brother

♡

The reverberations of the deep bass shuttered the old, wooden infrastructure of the house, frames creaking as if in protest. The music was too loud to decipher what song was playing; you had to wonder if the neighbors wouldn’t have something to say about it. When Nakaoka went around inviting a bunch of Oya High’s first- and second-years to a party over the weekend, you hadn’t expected to find yourself crammed shoulder-to-shoulder in a traditional Japanese minka house of all places.

“It’s my older brother’s,” Nakaoka explained when you’d first arrived. “He’s a businessman.”

Now, you found yourself hovering at the edge of the room, trying your best to slink as far into the shadows and away from the drunk, dancing crowds as possible. When Nakaoka had mentioned the party to you, you were expecting something small, likely consisting of Nakaoka and Nakagoshi’s closest Oya goons. But this far exceeded your expectations. There was a fair number of women there too, which came as a surprise to you because it seemed that the brawlers of Oya High were far more interested in fighting than courting. Nakagoshi, of course, had been the one to talk you into going to Nakaoka’s “little” party. Otherwise, you would have been perfectly content spending your Saturday night catching up on your shows and snacking on junk food in the comfort of your home. But no, “It’ll be fun,” Nakagoshi had sworn to you. And now, said male was nowhere to be found, and you were left alone hiding at the fray of the party. You could’ve strangled him.

In desperate need for some personal space, you squeezed your way through the crowd of partygoers, somehow managing to navigate yourself out onto the veranda. The cool night air was a welcome reprieve from the heat of the bodies inside the home. However, it seemed a plethora of other people had had the same idea as you; the backyard was nearly just as noisy as inside. A group of guys took turns batting a baseball into the wooden fence surrounding the garden, guffawing loudly at every thunk it made. Scads of people milled about on the porch, swaying to the beat of the music echoing from beyond the walls. Several of them toked on cigarettes, plumes of smoke suffocating the air. Just on the lawn was a table where another group was playing an alcohol party game that seemingly had no discernible rules from which you could tell. Somebody bumped your shoulder as they squeezed past you to join the others on the lawn. You huffed, and contemplated just heading home to your pajamas and bed.

Just as the thought tempted you, you felt an arm snake its way over your shoulders. You turned to see that damned smiling face, if only it wasn’t so charming. Nakagoshi.

“Come out here for the fresh air?” He asked.

You squinted your eyes at him. You had half the mind of telling him off for making you think this was some sort of “small” get-together, but you couldn’t. You never could, not with that smile he’d send your way. “Something like that,” you replied, eyes scanning over the people spread out over the backyard. “It’s not really much better, though.”

Another drunken body knocked into yours as they ambled down the veranda. As you tried to glare after the guy who had just bumped you, your eyes caught a couple making out, dimly illuminated by the porch lights. Your eyes widened, and you averted them.

Nakagoshi turned to look, catching sight of what you had noticed. He chuckled at your fluster, giving you a little shake with his hand on your shoulder. You tried to nudge him off, but he didn’t budge. “Come on,” he said. “I think the front is a little quieter.”

You and Nakagoshi weaved your way through the throngs of people inside, making it back outside to the front porch this time. You both took a seat on the porch ledge. You pulled your knees to your chest to insulate against the cool, breezy evening air. Nakagoshi let his legs dangle off the edge, leaning back with one hand supporting him from behind. Spring crickets just barely made themselves heard over the sound of the party music, like they decided to play along. You let out a deep breath, finally able to relax amidst the frenzy of the night.

Nakagoshi eyed you from the corner of his eye. “I really did think it’d be something small.” He tugged awkwardly at the headband secured around his head. You could tell by his tone that he felt bad. You and Nakagoshi were close; he knew you well enough to know that this wasn’t your typical scene. Though, knowing that, you weren’t quite sure why he decided to convince you to attend the party in the first place.

You shrugged. “It’s not a big deal. It’s not so bad. Just a bit overwhelming.”

“Think he just got a bit overexcited knowing he had his brother’s place to himself for the whole weekend.” Nakagoshi leaned his shoulder against the support beam he sat next to, turning his body slightly to face you.

You gave a small smile. “Sounds like him.” A lightning bug floated lazily just past your nose, and you watched it as it flickered off into the distance. The music playing from inside abruptly changed to the next song, and you wondered if somebody complained about what was playing.

Nakagoshi stretched his legs out in front of him, looking around to scout out any people hanging around the front porch. The few that had been milling about when you two first walked out had seemingly headed back inside to regroup with the party. It was just the two of you now. Nakagoshi cleared his throat, trying to be casual but clearly failing with the way you cocked an eyebrow at him.

“What?” You asked.

“Nothing,” he laughed, giving a one-shoulder shrug. “Just clearing my throat.”

“You can go back inside to the party,” you offered. You felt bad that you pulled him away from his fun Saturday night. Nakagoshi’s friends were probably looking for him right about now. “I really don’t mind. I came, I saw you. I’ll probably head home soon.”

His response came instantly. “I’ll walk you.”

“You don’t have to do that,” you assured him. “I’m not trying to ruin your fun. I don’t want to be a killjoy.”

Nakagoshi pulled a knee up and rested his arm on it. He had a serious look on his face as he studied you. You could feel your cheeks growing hot with the way he looked so intensely at you. You wondered if it was obvious how he made you feel. It felt obvious, at least, all the little internal and external reactions you had at anything he said or did. Maybe he did notice, and he just didn’t feel the same. That thought made your stomach twist. It wasn’t like you wanted to risk your friendship with him by outing your feelings.

“You’re not a killjoy,” he finally responded after what seemed like some consideration. “I asked you to come because I wanted to spend time with you.”

You felt your heart jump at his words. You stuffed those thoughts and feelings back down. “I just don’t think I’m as fun as your other friends.”

Nakagoshi laughed. You couldn’t help but to admire the way his face crinkled when he laughed, that boyish attraction that seemed to alight his features. It felt magnetic, and you couldn’t help the way you leaned forward ever so slightly towards him. It was like you needed to be closer to him. You swallowed hard. Again, Nakagoshi didn’t seem to notice the effect he had on you. Maybe it was better that way.

“You’re joking?” He pushed his hand through his messy hair, just for it to flop back down over his headband again. “They’re not half as fun to be around than you are.”

“You’re joking,” your brows knitted together disbelievingly at his words. “They like to go out and fight and drink and make music and do things. I like to… stay at home. I’m boring.”

Nakagoshi snorted and rolled his eyes. This time it was his turn to lean in towards you. You felt nervousness creeping up your spine. Your body almost leaned back in panicked response, but you held steady, soaking in any amount of closeness you could get to him. God, if only he knew how crazy he drove you. Damn him. “I don’t think you have any idea…” he said, a challenging smirk hinting at his lips. His eyes looked dark, even in the glow of the moonlight. Your eyes flickered to his lips for all but half a second. All you could think about was kissing him. He plopped a heavy hand on top of your head. “Not any idea about yourself, do you?”

You were taken aback. “Huh? What does that mean?”

“I mean,” he emphasized, pulling his hand back and giving you a grin worth damning. “You’re way too hard on yourself. You think I try so hard to hang out with you all the time, because, what? Because you’re boring?” Nakagoshi shook his head. “I asked you to come because I wanted to see you. Because I like hanging out with you—“

Before he could even finish his sentence, your lips were on his. It happened so fast it took you a second to realize it had happened. And it was over quicker than it started as you pulled yourself away. Nakagoshi’s eyed widened, but yours were wider.

“Oh shit,” you muttered. You could feel your cheeks were on fire. You had really, truly fucked it now. “I’m so sorry,” you started, feeling the words tumbling abashedly from your lips. “I didn’t mean to do that and I am so, so sorry. I wasn’t even thinking and then the stuff you were saying and before I even knew it I just kissed you and, oh fuck, I’m really, really—“

Nakagoshi quickly cut you off by grabbing your face gently between his hands and pulling you back again, this time him initiating the way your lips oh-so-perfectly melded together. You felt your heart swell with all the emotions you had tried so hard to hold back. He was kissing you, Nakagoshi was kissing you. If it was a dream you would have been satisfied with never waking up. But, it wasn’t. And you realized that you should probably kiss him back. Your hands snaked up to grip his black t-shirt like it was the only thing that could tether you to this reality. You tilted your head to deepen the kiss, leaning tenderly into the hand which cupped your cheek. His lips were soft, chapped, sweet, everything you had imagined they’d be. You could’ve gotten drunk through kissing him alone.

Your noses faintly grazed each other as you both pulled back. The distance in which you held was small, but felt monumental in comparison to what you had just shared. His eyes were lidded and glossy, like he could’ve kissed you again… And he did kiss you again. Once. Twice. Three more times, like he, too, couldn’t reach his fill of you. You could feel your heart pound with each kiss, and you briefly wondered if it was possible to keel over from too much bliss.

He finally pulled back, really pulled back this time, much to your dismay. Then, he was sending that damn smile your way again. You smacked him lightly on the chest.

“What was that for?” He laughed.

“You—,” you didn’t even know what to say. “You know why!”

“You kissed me first,” he jokingly defended. “Gotta admit, kind of surprised me.”

You let out a huff of a breath, crossing your arms over your chest in mock indignation. Not that you could have been mad about anything in that moment. You felt like you were soaring above the clouds. But it’s not like you were going to let that get to his head. “Surprised myself.”

“I liked it though.”

“Shut up…”

Without warning, Nakagoshi slung a lazy arm over your shoulders and pulled you against his side. “We should do that again sometime. Like next weekend? What do you say, how ‘bout a ‘boring’ weekend next week? Your place?”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help the way you leaned into his side. A small smile ticked at your lips. “Sounds like my kind of weekend.”

[irkimatsu]

All I can think about is complaining to Husk after you've drank too much that no one eats pussy good these days. He's gotta prove that there are still people that eat pussy like a pro.

Best wishes,

a very sleep deprived

Icarus.

Hee, I love this~

Your relationship with Husk hasn't gone anywhere physical yet, but the two of you have been so flirty that the sexual tension has been driving certain other hotel residents insane. Tonight is more of the same, as a few too many cocktails have driven you to bitch to Husk about your love life with perhaps a little too much information.

"Do you know how long it's been since I've had someone eat me out?" you say before taking another large gulp of your drink. "Guys are so fucking selfish! You let him cram his dick down your throat until you're about to puke, but the instant you ask him to return the favor? 'Nope, sorry, babe, I'm not into that'! Won't even fucking try!" You drain your glass and slam it down onto the counter with an exasperated sigh.

"Sounds like you've been sleeping with a bunch of immature boys," Husk says as he takes your glass and begins mixing you a new drink. "A real man wouldn't see eating out as some sort of favor. Not only should a good partner give a fuck about his lover's pleasure, there are plenty of guys out there who love eating pussy. You just gotta find 'em."

"Yeah?" You take a sip of your drink as soon as Husk hands it over, gazing at him over the rim of the glass for your entire sip. "Wish I knew where to find one... "

Husk returns your gaze, and with a smirk, he leans on the bar top with his arms folded. "What would you do if you found a guy willing to teach you a thing or two?"

Your face is heating, and you're certain it's not just the alcohol. "If he proved he could do it right, I'd do anything he wanted. But where am I going to find such a considerate guy in Hell?" With the way you're returning his gaze, you obviously have a pretty good idea of where you should be looking...

Husk lets out a dark chuckle that shoots straight down to your gut. "Why don't you come up to my room after I close up down here? I'll show you what a real man can do when he actually gives a shit about you..."

(RIP to whoever shares a wall with Husk. They're going to have to put up with your screaming for hours.)

[seat-safety-switch]

I’m a plumber. My father was a plumber, his father was a plumber, maybe his father was a plumber. We don’t know for sure. Grandpa was eaten by a tiger working at the zoo that one fateful afternoon, but this story isn’t about that. Where I work is a little company called Fel-Pro.

Maybe you’ve heard of Fel-Pro. You probably use their products. They’re one of the pre-eminent gasket manufacturers of the 21st century. Wherever there’s two tubes in your car that have to have a nice tight seal against each other, chances are Fel-Pro sells something to replace that seal. Are they as good as factory? Experts employed by Fel-Pro mumble and change the subject. Here’s the important thing: they have money, and some of that money goes to feed my kids by way of me fixing their office plumbing once in awhile.

Now, it’s not all roses. My plumber and custodian buddies who work in other companies, they say that people mostly stay out of their way while they’re working. Maybe once in awhile, they’ll get a Super Dad who chats a bit about power tools, or asks some basic questions about their toilet at home, or doesn’t want to take responsibility for having left a cast-iron shit in the tank and then trying to cram it through the manifold using thirty pounds of toilet paper. The usual stuff, right?

At Fel-Pro, it’s different. These motherfuckers have opinions about plumbing, as you would expect from their careers. As soon as they hear even the smallest pinhole leak, the bathroom is filled wall-to-wall with engineers, trying to figure out if it’s a gasket interface issue. Once they realize it isn’t, they start discussing ways to make it a gasket issue.

Anything that leaks is caused by inferior gasketry, even if the pipe itself has split in the middle. They could solve that by making a sort of very long, pipe-shaped grommet gasket to replace the pipe entirely. Yeah, yeah. And then a bunch of these pencil-necks start climbing over top of me to take measurements with their Mitutoyo digital calipers, and video-chat with the toilet manufacturer’s engineers just to call them rookie-level chumps. All the while, the bathroom is slowly filling with water up to our waists, the water-shutoff valve having been removed years before to prevent these eggheads from being tempted to fuck with it.

As any professional would, I started ignoring them, but it turns out that showed up on my performance review. Everyone at Fel-Pro has to be vigilant against leaks, said my boss, a dour expression on his face. He thrust a diagram on how to apply the proper torque pattern to the wax seal of a toilet.

Don’t get me started on how angry they get when they see me using hardware-store silicone bathroom caulking to solve the problem. That’s not the ideal thermal interface, they moan, and start bringing out all kinds of high-zoot polymer compounds, emblazoned with safety warnings in Chinese. Those make the room spin pretty good, and sometimes they get worryingly hot on application, but I must admit they work a treat. One engineer brought me something he stole from a tour he took of NASA and told me to seal a leaking air conditioner drain with it. Well, mission accomplished, buddy: Jim, the custodian I share an office with, had to use a plasma cutter to remove it last week.

It’s gotten so bad that I’ve started only doing plumbing repairs in the middle of the night, when the engineers are likely to be at home, berating their spouses for daring to bring Scotch tape into their home.

[argumentalist]

I was absolutely hooked the very first time I saw this version of the FA-78 Full Armor Gundam from Mobile Suit Gundam Thunderbolt. It's so ridiculously over-the-top.

Thankfully, both the manga and the ONA are pretty good. It'd be a shame for something this amazing to be stuck in a terrible story.

I'm just building the high grade kit this week.

I don't have a lot of master grade kits under my belt yet and the FA-78 Ver.Ka looks intimidating as all hell. Maybe that's something to work up to one day...

Even though it's just a high grade - there's a lot of plastic in this box. 9 normal runners plus a bunch of polycaps and a couple beam-saber blades. And, oddly enough, no multicolor runner. Each runner is just a single color.

There's a bunch of color-correcting foil stickers, as well as some sticker-style decals.

I decided to use the foil stickers because I didn't want to try to paint all these tiny little details... But I'm not convinced they're actually adding much to the kit. I mean - those big thrusters on the front of the knee obviously look better in color. But the little tiny things on the side? I think those looked just fine without the stickers.

The artwork for the FA-78 shows its joints covered in some kind of protective shroud to keep dust and debris out. The HG kit replicates this with weird, wrinkly-looking molded plastic bits. They look OK, but it's a real pain to panel-line them. I gave up on actually trying to hit the lines and just kind of slopped panel-liner all over the parts and then cleaned it up.

The build is about what I'd expect from an older HG kit. There's lots of polycaps and the armor sections are basically hollow. And it's just purely the "full armor" version of the FA-78. There aren't really any bits you can remove to make it look like a standard/basic RX-78.

Of course it wouldn't be Thunderbolt without a ridiculously-huge backpack and entirely too many shields.

Clearly, there's a lot to this kit. I think about half the build was spent on the accessories.

This kit just looks good. Even without all the accessories. It's a very solid build. Everything feels very tight and stable. I had absolutely no trouble posing it at all.

This kit comes with a weird little stand... And while that's not strictly necessary (the kit can stand up without it, even with the backpack), I can't really see posing this kit without a stand. It's meant to be zooming around in space - not stuck on the ground.

I wish those little sub-arms on the backpack were actually articulated. I had some difficulty getting it posed with the two shields. But I guess that's what you get when trying to cram all of this into an HG kit.

So, clearly, I'm going to have to build the Ver.Ka.

This is such an amazing design... And this little kit is absolutely fantastic, even without the sticker-style decals... I just have to see what the Ver.Ka is like.