#coulda sworn its been like 2 years

[chuckschippedchomper]

how the FUCK has it been 600 games for pasta

[myblueeyedbuggers]

My Boys

Chapter 12

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11  Chapter 13 Chapter 14

Pairings: Steve Rogers X Reader (Best Friend) Bucky Barnes X Reader

Word Count: 2420

Warnings: Slight bit of swearing

Summary: After being abandoned by her parents in Brooklyn in 1929, y/n makes a living for herself by working for the Црни лабуд gang until she meets two boys in a back alley and her life slowing begins to change.

Eyup My loves! Soo How’s your week been? Good I hope, so a bit of news for you all, there’s only  two/three more chapters left till this book is finished and then we’ll be moving onto (Drum roll) The First Avenger! Woooo! I hope you’re all as excited as I am. Anyways without anymore rambling, I give you chapter 12, enjoy!

So I can safely say that the rest of the week passed pretty quickly, with only a few ‘minor’ incidents, one of em being a massive food fight caused by yours truly and Steve getting himself stuck in the basement for 2 hours after seeing, and I quote ‘a possessed girl dressed as undead batman’.

I still haven’t told him that was me….oops

Apart from that it was pretty normal, cut to today where I’ve been blessed with the task of lookin’ after my best girl for Buck’s parents anniversary whilst they go into the city to celebrate, I mean it’s the least I could do for em. Plus, the last time the lads were trusted with lookin’ after Becca, Buck’s parents came home to the entire house covered in flour with Becca laughin’ at em cause they managed to lock themselves in a cupboard. We had to call the fire department to get em outta there.

Anyways, we kicked the boys outta the house so Becca and I could have a girls day in, now don’t get me wrong I absolutely adore this girl and I would practically do anything for her.

“Y/n can we play princesses please?! Mama got some dresses from our cousin we can wear!”

I can literally feel my soul burning right now. I honestly tried to say no, there’s nothing more I hate more that being forced into them things but one look into her bright little eyes made all my resistance die away and so I uttered the words that sealed my doom. “Of course, Becs only if we can have a tea party in em”. So here we are, me in a navy style party dress, lace covered my arms and the hem of the sweetheart neckline resting just on my collarbone,  the knee length satin skirt covered my legs.

Honestly, I wasn’t as bad I thought it were gonna be, I even let my hair outta the classic ponytail it’s always in so Becca could style it a tiny bit, to her credit she did a decent job. My h/c locks fell in small waves across my back, with the longer strands near my face tucked behind my ears and Becs even convinced me to pop on some of her mama’s makeup. Now I ain’t a fool, I know makeup’s pretty expensive and only let her pop on a shimmery light gold eyeshadow and some tinted lip balm, much to her disappointment I confiscated the mascara, I refused to let that death stick near my eyeballs.

Becca looked absolutely adorable, we’d managed to find her dance dress from last year and it suited her down to the ground. Baby pink lace covered her arms up to her wrist, the middle part had little gems dotted here and there with a pink satin ribbon separating the skirt from the top, from the looks of it the skirt was made outta some layered netting that poofed outwards when she span around. Don’t ask me how but I managed to wrap some ribbons in her braids and added a lil tiara on the top of her head and if you’d asked me, she looked like a real-life princess to me.

“So, your highness, what would one prefer to do? Would one like to have tea in the parlour or waltz in the ballroom?” my attempt at the British accent was apparently appalling, judging by the level of giggles coming outs Becca’s mouth. Eventually she calmed down enough to give me an answer “I think a waltz would be most fun lady y/n” she said in an equally bad accent. Slowly a smile spread across my face as I moved over to the record payer, I didn’t even pay attention to which one I put on before I turned back to Becca and offered her my hand, lowering myself into a bow that looked like a squid tryin’ to tap dance. Very elegant I know.  

You’d think after the past few weeks I’d been with the Barnes family, I’da got used to being tackled by the siblings, but alas I am surprised every-time, hence why I’m on the floor with a hyperactive 4 year old sat on top of me. Becca’s giggles filled the entire room, she quickly got off me and started jumping around to the sound of the jumpin’ jive and leaving me to slowly die on the floor, for all of 5 seconds before she yanked my arm outta my socket to get me dancing with her. I swear this girl isn’t even human, one second she’s sweet and delicate the next she’s bulldozing people to the ground and pullin’ em to the next life, I mean she’s 4 she shouldn’t be that strong!

Thank the lord she’s adorable. Quickly the music took over my mind, my feet moving along to the music, Becca was doin’ some twirls around me with the biggest smile on her face, I don’t know what made me do it but I grabbed her gently by the waist and spun us around in time to the music, her little arms reached into the air as we both laughed our heads off. Of course, me being me, I lost my balance and my butt suddenly met the sofa, with Becca landing next to me with a small yelp, it was quiet for all of 2 seconds before we burst out laughin’. Think it took us about 3 minutes before we calmed down, a comfortable silence fell between us, the music slowly faded to a stop as the record reached its end, and we stayed like this for a while before Becca broke the silence.

“Y/n, can you sing like mama? She don’t do it often cause it reminds her of my nana….” My eyes drifted over to Becs, her lil eyes dulled a little when she said it and now they were filled with a small glimmer of hope, and I really didn’t wanna be the reason for that light goin’ out. If I were being completely honest singin’ wasn’t something I ever wanted to do again, during my time with the Црни лабуд, singing was the only thing that made me feel like….well me I guess. It was the only sliver of light in so many years of darkness and once I was free from them I made myself a silent vow that I’d never do it again, that I was a new person. But one look in her little eyes was enough to make me break it. “I ain’t too bad, only know a couple of songs on the piano but I can try if you wanna”

Apparently Becca didn’t need to be told twice, in a flash of pink she was off to the other room, bellowing for me to follow her, I mean it ain’t like I gotta choice in the matter is it ? the sound of something hitting the floor in the room opposite me made me move even quicker (if that were even possible). Becca was stood in front of a oldish looking piano, a small bench was tuned over in front of her, and a white sheet was discarded on the floor next to her as she bounced up and down excitedly, I couldn’t help the smile on my face as I turned the bench over on it’s feet. Not even 2 seconds later Becca clambered up on it and looked at me with a bright smile, I swear she gets cuter every second like how does this happen ? I try it and I end up put away in a mental asylum.

“You got any requests princess ?” my legs carried me across the room and towards the seat, cracking my knuckles together and stretching out my fingers before turning to look at the younger lass, a look of concentration covered her face in response and it took her a few seconds to answer. “Dream a little dream of me ? think that’s what mama calls it” I swear I tried to stop the soft smile, but I really couldn’t help it this time. “sure sweetheart” and with that I hit the opening notes, the feeling of the keys under my fingertips were so familiar it was like no time had passed since I last played, I kept my voice soft and quiet as I sang. I think I was halfway through my second verse when I felt Becca cuddle into my side, she ducked her head under my arm and put her head in my lap, a soft yawn left her mouth as her eyes started to close to the sound of the music. It was at the end of the song that I looked at her again, soft snores escaped her mouth and her hand was grasping gently at the top of my skirt, I felt my heart melt even more that I thought possible, completely unaware of the small audience I’d gathered until a small cough came from behind me.

Aw shit…..

Bucky’s POV

If you’d told me a year ago, that after spending a couple of hours at Coney island with my best mate I’d come home to what must be an angels voice singing my sister to sleep. I’da never of believed ya, think you coulda imagined our confusion when me and Steve heard piano coming from the dining room. Steve shot me a look of pure bewilderment, and I couldn’t blame the guy to be honest, “thought you’d said your mama gave up piano couple a years ago”. I’m guessing my face mirrored his, cause I ain’t the slightest clue either, mama stopped playin’ years ago so who the heck could it be? “yeah she did bud, swore she’d never set her hands on it again…..”. I’m completely and utterly baffled at this point, where’s Y/n when ya need her ? she’d figure this out.

We both took a step towards the closed door, eager to know what the hell was going on when something stopped me, the sweetest sound I’d ever heard in my life sang along with the melody, I coulda sworn it sounded like the lullaby mama sang to us when we were kids. I guess I spent too long listening cause Stevie boy pushed past me and walked in, the sounds were so much clearer and more vibrant it felt like I’d died and gone to heaven right then and there. I couldn’t believe my eyes when I realised just who was creating this beautiful sound, there she was, sat in front of the piano as her fingers danced gracefully across the keys. Her voice, oh god her voice sounded like that of an angel, the weak afternoon sun shone over her hair and made her look even more angelic than humanly possible. I barely even noticed Becca asleep in her lap before Y/n finished her song and the ever-living pain in my ass decided to reveal that we were there. I mean he coulda chosen any other way of revealing our presence but no he had to let out the tiniest little cough, coulda got her back for the eyebrow incident….

Y/n literally went stiff as a board before she turned to look at us, her cheeks were red as a rose and a sheepish smile covered her face, it was only a couple of seconds after that both Steve and I noticed what she was wearing, he burst out laughin at her but me, I for once in my life couldn’t say a damn thing. She looked absolutely breath taking, her hair fell down in soft waves and framed her face, the shade of blue in her dress brought out the small flecks of green in her e/c eyes and brought out her hourglass figure. Her lips were drawn into a natural pout and it was that second it dawned on me she asked me somethin’….shit.  

“whaaaa…….” Nice one Bucky.

Steve, the lil punk, could barely stop himself laughin’, at some point he’d moved to take Becca off Y/n and stood behind y/n with his fist in his mouth to smother his laughter. My best friend ladies and gentlemen. If looks could kill he’d be 10 feet under right now.

“Buck ? I was askin’ if you were okay ?” Y/n’s face showed a tiny bit of confusion and much to my horror amusement, “YeAh I’m okay….” And just at the moment puberty strikes in the form of a voice crack, as if this weren’t embarrassing enough. At this point Steve was barely keeping it together, he had actual tears coming outta his eyes and went bright red in the face tryin’ to stop himsen laughing, in front of me y/n furrowed her eyebrows and did look genuinely concerned for my mental state. She didn’t say anything for a few seconds, just looked at me before she lifted her hand to my forehead and held it here for a minute, thank god Steve chose to leave the room before this or I’da never heard the end of it.

“You sure you’re okay, feelin’ a bit warm and ya actin weirder than usual Buck” okay quick say something before this gets even more embarrassing, first thing that pops into ya head in 3,2,1…

“Yeah I’m sure, think I ate somethin’ funky down at the pier, makin’ me real gassy”……why am I like this? Normally I can charm any girl of their feet but with y/n, I’ma bumbling mess.  She didn’t say a damn word, she just raised her eyebrows whilst a small smirk covered her face, before she turned and left me to have a very small breakdown underneath the dining table.

Meaning I let out a noise that sounded like a bear stubbing it’s toe in the middle of winter.

I thought my luck couldn’t get any worse, but nooo old lady luck decided today I needed a second helping, cause the second I did that Y/n walked back into the room. Brilliant. I was too busy stumbling over my words to processes what she was doin’, before I knew it she’d walked back to me and stood on her tip toes….then planted a small kiss on my cheek.

“You’re cute when you’re flustered Barnes”

And just like that, she left me with my jaw on the ground and heart beatin’ outta my chest, cause I’m starting to think that she was right. I’m sure as hell coming down with something, and I’m pretty sure it ain’t a regular ol’ bug…..

SOOO, if you got this far hope you enjoyed it, as always any feed back or constructive criticism is welcome, thank so much for reading and hope you have a great day/night/week.

lots of love

Rose xxx

[sometimesitrytowritethings]

Mountain Man: Part 4

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | PART 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Reader

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: None

Summary: You never thought you’d love again. Then Arthur Morgan came into town. Fate continuously has you meeting each other in odd ways, and a troubled past is something you are both familiar with. Perhaps that’s what will make this time different.

-----

Valentine was, first and foremost, a run-down, muddy livestock town. It constantly smelled at least slightly of manure, and rest assured that every person’s shoes were caked in mud and shit by the end of each day. There were very few children or families in town, and thus little entertainment for anyone who was too young to drink or play poker. Gossip ran through the town as fast as whisky in the saloon, which is coincidentally where you had heard about the upcoming auction.

At the large Livestock Auction on the outskirts of town, a small troupe of men were to be riding in, followed by nearly two-dozen sturdy-looking horses. Luckily for you, Ben loved animals - especially horses. He really did take after his father in that aspect. So, there was naturally no better entertainment for the five-year-old than taking him to watch the small herd ride into town.

The two of you sat on a bench outside the back of the train station, close enough to see the action, but far enough away to stay safe in case any of the poor animals were suddenly spooked. Ben was dressed warmly in the crisp morning air, huddled up in a sweater as he sat on the bench, swinging his short legs back and forth in excitement. He held the last half of his chocolate bar tight in his fist, watching in awe as the horses were separated into groups and led into the corrals. Occasionally, he would smack your arm in excitement and point at a specific horse, admiring their coat or gait or hooves or anything else he found interesting.

After nearly an hour of watching from a distance, the horses were all herded into their pens, and Ben looked up at you with wide, excited eyes. “Mama, can I go to the fence now?” he asked, practically bouncing from his place on the bench. “Please?”

You gently pried the chocolate bar from his hand, and nodded. “Go ahead,” you agreed, “but watch out when you cross the road.” The end of your sentence was called to the back of the child, who had immediately dashed to the fence of the Livestock Auction.

With a small smile, you stood and slowly followed him over. You had been so focused on your son that you didn’t notice the familiar face of the man riding towards you until he had called your name. “Well, I shoa didn’t take you for a rancher,” came Arthur’s voice from your left. There was no way you could hide your smile.

He had been tying his own horse to the hitching post by the train station when he called out to you. He gave the horse a gentle pat and whispered something to it before walking towards you and Ben, who was far too distracted by seeing the horses up close to take notice of him. You let out a laugh as he made his way to you. “Hello again, Mountain Man,” you greeted, putting your hand on Ben’s back as he climbed up the first rung of the fence. “I certainly ain’t, but I figure Ben may be when he’s older.” You patted Ben’s back affectionately has you spoke about him. He didn’t notice. “Thank you for dinner, by the way.”

Arthur reached up with a large hand to tip his tattered hat in your direction, which also made it slightly cover his eyes. “It weren’t no problem, miss. Really,” he explained, now standing behind Ben with you at his side. The awkward energy that had overwhelmed the end of your conversation the day before was now completely gone. It was amazing what a good night’s sleep could do. 

Ben suddenly called to you loudly, bouncing up and down on the fence, “Mama, there’s a baby horsy! Do you see?” He held up his right arm and pointed enthusiastically at a small pony towards the back of the lot. It had stubby legs and a long, black coat, contrasting significantly with its nearby cousins.

You reached forward and shushed him gently, not wanting him to spook the nearby animals. “Yes sweetheart, I can see it,” you confirmed, keeping your hand behind his back in case he lost balance and fell backwards in his excitement. “Regardless, it was very kind. Thank you.”

Luckily for Arthur, your eyes were still trained on your son, so you missed his small smile and light blush. “You’re welcome,” he responded, before he cleared his throat and took off his hat, holding it at his side. 

The three of you watched the horses together for a moment as they kicked up mud in front of you, both of you glancing down occasionally at Ben with small smiles on your faces. You had to admit, it was nice, standing there with him by your side. Any passerby who didn’t know you would have reasonably thought the three of you a family.

Ben continued to ramble on enthusiastically, “How old do you think it is?” He finally tore his eyes away from the small pony and looked around the lot at the other horses. “Which one is it’s mama?”

He looked around for another pony, raising one foot up to the next rung of the fence, for a better view. As he searched, Arthur moved to his side and bent down slightly, so that his head was at the same level as Ben’s. “Which baby horse you talkin’ ‘bout?” he asked, looking in the same direction as your son.

Ben, thrilled to have a companion with the same interest, removed his hand from the railing and grabbed ahold of Arthur’s shirt. He nearly lost his balance, but Arthur’s strong arm swung up just in time, keeping the boy upright as he once again pointed toward the pony.  There, that little one in the back.” After regaining his balance, and using Arthur’s shoulder as leverage, Ben clambered up to the second rung with both feet.

Arthur grinned when he saw the little horse. “Well that one there’s a Shetland Pony,” he explained, keeping his arm around your son’s back to help him maintain his balance. You couldn’t help thinking that Arthur looked good like this. With an arm wrapped around your son, teaching him about the animals in front of him, he looked like a father. “They’re bred to be real little, and they stay that way their whole lives.”

Ben’s eyes went wide. “Wow! So it’ll be a baby forever?” he asked, looking to Arthur for confirmation.

There was that barking laugh again from the man, the one that was accompanied by a wide grin, the one that made him throw his head back, the one you were now hoping to hear on almost a daily basis. “Not a baby,” he responded, patting Ben’s back affectionately, “but yeah. It’ll stay little forever.” He nodded toward the horse, and Ben turned his attention once again to the creature. “‘Cause they’re so small, they’re used in the mines, usually. I bet this one is on its way to Annesburg or maybe somewhere up in the Grizzlies.” With his free hand, he gestured at the horse. “See its thick coat? That means it’s real easy for ‘im to stay nice and warm up in the snow.”

The boy stared at the pony in awe, mouth slightly agape. “How come you know so much about horses?”

Arthur chuckled at his wonderment and reached over to put his worn hat on Ben’s head. It sunk low and covered the boy’s eyes, forcing him to reach up and tilt it backwards - but he didn’t remove it. “Was always fond of ‘em, I guess,” Arthur responded, reaching to the satchel at his side with his newly free hand. “They’re good, strong beasts, and real loyal if you treat ‘em right.” As he spoke, he pulled a worn, leatherbound book out of the bag and began to flip through the pages. You caught glimpses of long, handwritten texts, plenty of doodles, and several large, intricate drawings. That was certainly surprising. “Here,” he continued, holding out the book to Ben when he had found the page he was looking for. “I found a real pretty, snow-white Arabian up in Ambarino a while back. Wish I had one of them cameras so I coulda’ taken a real picture for ya.”

You looked down at the page, where a large, intricate image of a snow-white horse was drawn in pencil. Somehow, you managed to hold back the gasp that threatened to escape. He drew that? It was one thing to defy the stereotype of a rough-and-tumble mountain man by having a journal, but he took it to a whole different level with his sheer talent. You glanced up at him as he proudly showed Ben the image.

“Wow!” Ben gasped, turning from the fence to run the fingers of his right hand over the page. “It’s so pretty!” You reached over and helped him down before he fell, and he immediately moved to stand between Arthur and the opened journal.

Immediately, Arthur moved to squat behind him, his head again level with Ben’s as the boy took hold of the journal. “She shoa was,” he said into the boy’s ear. “Almost missed ‘er ‘cause she blended right in with the snow.”

After a minute of entranced study of the drawing, Ben turned his face toward Arthur’s. “You drew her real good!”

He laughed again and stood up, rubbing the back of his neck. If you didn’t know better, you would have sworn his cheeks looked slightly redder than they had been a moment ago. “Thanks, boah. But it ain’t much,” he replied. His self-doubt once again bubbling up.

“No, he’s right,” you chimed in. Your eyes met his as you smiled at him and nodded toward the book. “It’s really a beautiful drawing.”

He paused for a moment before taking the book gently from Ben’s hands and reaching for the edge of the page. “Thanks,” he responded, and began to gently tear the page from the book. Your hand immediately rose to stop him, there was no need to tear it out. But before you could reach him, he already had the paper in hand and was handing it over to your son. “Here ya go. You can keep it.”

For the hundredth time in a single day, Ben’s eyes went wide. “Really?” he asked in awe, eyes again going wide as he gazed up at Arthur. This was surely going to be the highlight of his week.

Arthur nodded, chuckling. “Shoa,” he agreed, closing the book and slipping it back into the satchel at his side. “Can always draw another if I want.”

Ben’s face immediately lit up as soon the drawing was in his hands. “Woah! Thanks, Mister Mountain Man!” exclaimed Ben, who immediately dropped to the ground next to the fence to analyse the paper in more detail.

Arthur responded with a chuckled, “‘Course,” and ruffled Ben’s curls. For some reason, looking at the adorable scene  brought back that familiar lump in your throat. Was this what it would have been like if Andrew were here to watch his son grow? Was this what it looked like to have a child with a father?

Seeing Ben this happy was more satisfying than anything in the world. Seeing Arthur smiling down at your son, fingers again looped in his gun belt, also brought out a strange fondness that you didn’t think you would ever feel again. And then, inevitably, the memory of Andrew floats back into your mind, flavoring the entire situation with a strange sort of bittersweetness. 

“He’s a good kid,” Arthur’s contented voice brought you slowly back to reality. His gaze had moved from your son, still sitting on the ground, carefully holding the paper to prevent wrinkles, to your own. A small, bittersweet smile was aimed in your direction, and in that moment you knew - he understood. 

You nodded, not having the willpower to take your eyes from Arthurs. “He certainly is,” you said, affectionately. “Thank you, really.”

The self-doubt that ate at Arthur every day reddened his face. “It weren’t nothin,” he finally looked away from you and plucked his hat from Ben’s head and slipped it back on his own, shading his eyes from your view. “Don’t worry ‘bout it.”

“No, no,” you weren’t having any of that. Not today, when he had made your son happier than you had seen in ages. “You probably just made his entire week. That’s not nothin’,” you continued, stepping closer to him and teasingly pushing his shoulder a bit.

He chuckled. “Well…”

But you weren’t about to let him continue, especially if he was only going to degrade himself. “How about I thank you by finally getting you that drink tonight? No price negotiations necessary,” you cut in, reaching up to straighten out his collar like you had done at the saloon on his first night in town. Again, your fingers brushed his bare skin at the collar of his shirt. This time, you were certain you felt him tense.

After a second of looking down at you, so close to him, feeling the brush of your fingers on his skin, he smiled and nodded. “Shoa. That’d be nice.” You grinned back up at him and dropped your hand from his shirt, missing the feeling of it as soon as you did. 

Arthur left shortly after your conversation, confirming that he would meet you at the saloon later that evening. You stayed for a while longer, sitting in the grass on the side of the road with Ben as he moved his gaze back and forth between the real horses, and the picture he had gotten from Arthur. After a half an hour or so, when all of the horses were penned and the sun was high in the sky, you finally stood, ruffled Ben’s hair and told him it was time to go home for the day. 

Slowly, the two of you made your way back home, taking the road through the center of town. On the way, you heard the familiar call of the newsboy, and looked over. Immediately, the headline and image on the front page caught your eye.

“SNAKE OIL MURDERER CAPTURED” was written in large bold font above an article and a photograph of a man, whose face you recognised. You quickly walked over and purchased a paper, opening it to read the entire page with Ben by your side. 

Looking again at the photograph, angry heat swelled in your chest. There was no mistaking those eyes. You had nearly forgotten them, but now they would be burned into your mind for the rest of your days. 

The memories flooded back to you like a dam had been broken in your mind. Andrew’s hacking coughs. His pale face, burning with fever. Worry about Ben. Worry about the Harvest. Resigning yourselves to wait the illness out and skimp on food during Winter. Hearing about a travelling doctor in town. Picking up the medication. Hope. 

And then? Finding Andrew’s lifeless body in bed next to you in the morning.

There was no denying it. It was too much of a coincidence to not have been true.

Benedict Albright, the Snake Oil Murderer, had killed your husband.

[iamtheempress]

Cold Blooded

A Dragon Ball Horror Fic {Part 12}

☆☆☆

Not even a whole day is all it took, and goddamn was it a long day for Vegeta. Time was of the essence and gods knew how much longer they had until Frieza did anything to the Earth, and Vegeta be damned if another planet be killed under his watch by the likes of Frieza… The biggest waste of carbon life in the known universe.

Vegeta had a vendetta, for the sake of his race, and his woman, his eyes not leaving his lovers face, his fiance, his mate.. Bulma coulda sworn he watched him shed a tear. All the Z fighters were in attendance to help scout for the Dragon Balls. Words were left unspoken between the group. They haven't experienced a death so immediate in their lives as of recently. The most recent being several years and several fights ago.

Bulma came in and looked at the sullen princes back, he's cradling her like a baby.. Looking constantly at the woman that took his breath away. “Vegeta..? Vegeta, Goku is coming back now he has the last two. Everyones outside and ill walk with you.. shes my friend too.. been one for a long long time...” She muttered pushing the blonde locks from Carlies face, still teary eyed from finding her friend dead on the ground of her laboratory.

 “He took her ring… He took it from her lifeless hand. Frieza is a monster.. And if he continues to breathe the same air of this universe ill make sure everyone he encounters, know hes a monster… the…” He turned to her and  started walking back down the hallway, Bulma in tow and holding the 7 star ball in her hand. “You saw the camera footage did you…” Bulma asked, Vegeta remained silent.. He saw everything. To say he didnt feel pride in her to see her fight to her last breath would be a lie. Why did it have to be her.. Why didnt he stay with her… He blamed himself every step of the way. “She fought to her last breath… and she took her last breath into that god damned monsters mouth…” He growled adjusting his woman's corpse in his arms, she's shrouded in a blanket. Her head supported on his bicep so it wouldn't flop about seeing as though Frieza crushed it entirely flat. He didn't speak to anyone. The balcony was uncharacteristically quiet for the amount of people standing around. Bulma added the 5th dragon ball to the group and as she heard it clack, Goku instant transmissioned to Vegetas side, pat his shoulder and looked at Carlie, “I couldn't fly any longer, you needed these now.”  The moment Goku returned with the final two he spoke up. Goku added Dragon Ball 6 and 7 to the pile and looked Vegeta in the eye in that same look Goku always gives.. But this time.. Much somber and understanding. “If it was ChiChi id be the same way…” The two Saiyans looked to the small dead human… “It's all you Vegeta. Floors all yours.” Goku pat his back and backed up abit, his excitable demeanor literally pissed Vegeta off to no end, there's a reason Vegeta even considered Kakarot a friend and this was that one reason. It’s now or never.

The balcony of Capsule Corp has now seen everything and summoning SHenron here was certainly not a first. A dead woman in the arms of the prince is a first for many. “Come forth mighty Shenron.” He asked watching the sky turn black and the Dragon snakes across the sky and looks down upon Vegeta. A glorious and frightening sight to behold.

“You have 3 Wishes… What is your first wish?” It bellows, its voice booming, Godlike. “I wish for Carlie to be alive again.. And without wounds of what happened.” He asked plainly looking down at her face. “Your wish has been granted… she will return to the land of the living shortly…” Vegeta sighs in relief, that wave of ease falls upon the group as Bulma wipes sweat from her brow. “You have 2 more wishes.”

Vegeta completely was besides himself.. 2 more wishes. He gulped hard. He considered his words carefully, “If it wasnt for me she would be alive… I wish for her nothing but happiness, even if im not there.” He sounded defeated. Like hes considering leaving her.. He hated thinking on it but he wanted to give the wish a shot. The dragon blinked and spoke, “Her wish was granted many years ago. She wished for a prince, success and happiness, all in one wish.” Vegeta was dumbstruck, her one wish to him was all 3 at once.. And she got that. Even if she was dead. “Now. What are your two wishes?”

The prince grinned. “Dragon, I wish Frieza lives the rest of his days knowing what he did to her.. And i hope it hurts him like hell.. Every waking moment of his miserable life.” He snarls. Shenrons head lowers closer to Vegeta’s  view and speaks. “Your wish has been granted for the rest of his days; he will live with the scars she has given him. What is your final wish?” The mighty eternal dragon asked Vegeta, the dark sky swirling as the dragon prepared himself to return back to the center of the earth.

Vegeta grinned widely, “Make that tyrant unable to destroy the Earth. I wont let him destroy this planet.” HE growls viciously Carlies hand twitching slightly, Vegeta noticed this and looked down. “Your wishes have been granted, farewell.” The dragon announced and returned to his place in the center of the Earth releasing the sky of its complete darkness and returning the mid afternoon suns rays to bestow themself upon the sorrowful prince and the rest of the z fighters. Carlie squinted her eyes and grimaced only to open them and feel her neck and stomach, shocked and face once again filled with color. “Vegeta…! What..? WHere? I was just…-” She stammered holding onto Vegeta, Bulma ran over to her partner and kissed her forehead “No more questions alright? Your back and thats all that matters. Dont worry about your lab ill take care of that, Car.” She winked and made the blonde scientist smile and blush.

Goku rubbed the back of his neck and pat Vegetas back. “Oh yea i shoulda told you about her wish to have all that back there should I hehe!” Vegeta rolled his eyes and scoffed “Quit your babbling idiot.. Its not like she wouldnt have had all three of those wishes WITHOUT the Dragon Balls.. We were destined to meet, end of discussion.” The prince smiled and met foreheads with her feeling the warmth of her face against his made him feel alright one again.

Two spiteful wishes for the price of her coming back was worth it. Worth bringing his princess back. The Emperor on the other hand; was suffering on the outreaches of the solar system upon his ship, his once pristine white membrane tainted by deep scars in the form of golden long scratches raking in every which way. Making it look like he lost a long arduous fight with a barbed wired fence. He looked like hell and he was raising it substantially upon his ship screaming and cursing the woman who brought such a disgusting parting gift to him. The emperor fell to his knees and looked up at a wall that was completely monochromatic. His reflection was telling. The broken tooth, the long scratch on his chin down his sternum. The ones that caked his whole chest. Tainted in golden veins. He would be perfect if they werent there, but alas. Here we have the Emperor. Shedding his first tear. For a brilliant young Earthling he fell hopelessly inlove with, one who's betrothed to the one race he swore to exterminate but failed miserably. To the Warrior Prince nonetheless. This is a reminder of Frieza’s biggest failure… and that ring in his hand felt like molten hot metal, but he cant take himself to part with it at all, its too much for him.. Like he misses her with all of his being.

He in a frustrated fury looked over this ring to inspect why it burnt him so harshly.. Surely there has to be a logical reason. He read the inscription. “Strengths in our Blood.”

☆☆☆

Authors note: I really gotta thank everyone who supported me every step of the way with this fic it was REALLY fun and unique to write! I loved everyone who said that it was great and im more than happy to create more with time. I love you all expect more !!!!!

@dragonblobz @lilfriezatyrant @gallickingun @kamehamethot @gonuclear @memevember @msgreenverse @lizardhipsdontlie @thotful-writing @supremeleadershitlord​ @memevember​ @dragonball-hcs-or-sum-shit

[hamingo]

The Peculiar Life (and Death) of Ms.Habenicht Next Door

    The night of Ms.Habenicht’s death had been a peaceful one in late July 1916. The hot night air was thick with the scent of honey and summer flowers, and few clouds were out to cover the fluorescent moon and countless, twinkling stars. The small Scottish village lay sleeping in the silence, and miles away from falling bombs and bleeding men of the war, it could have been described as peaceful.

    And in the house next door to the one in which Ms.Habenicht breathed her last, sleeping soundly, was Sandra.

    Sweet, young Sandra, who was not quite a woman yet no longer a girl. Brash, classless Sandra, who gossiped unapologetically and always rushed into things headfirst. Dear, friendly Sandra, who was the first person in the village to speak to the strange old woman who had moved in next door.

    The next morning the sun began its tedious climb up the sky and over the rolling hills of rural Scotland. Farmers rose early to tend their sheep and cattle, to cook up their breakfasts and prepare for yet another day of work. Next were the shopkeepers, people like Sandra’s father, who left the house and prepared their stores for the throngs of customers who would soon be upon them. Finally, after the mothers and the other school kids, the elderly and the workers, Sandra awoke.

    Her day went much like every day before. She dragged herself out of bed, late for school. She ignored her mother’s scolding as she grabbed a quick breakfast and marched out the door. And when 2:00 rolled around, instead of walking straight home, Sandra stopped on the front step of the house next door.

    Ms.Habenicht not answering Sandra’s knock right away was just the first unusual thing that would happen in that sleepy little village in the days to come. When a reply simply wasn’t received, Sandra decided to knock again. And again and again and again. But still, not even any movement from within the weathered walls.

    It was when Sandra had placed a hand on the brass knob and was about to go inside that her mother’s voice rang out from her own front porch:

    “Sandra! What are you doing?”

    “She wasn’t answering!” Sandra shut the door the few inches she had opened it and let go of the knob. “She’s old, I thought maybe she didn’t hear!”

    “I could hear your incessant knocking from inside, she’s probably out.”

    “But we always have tea after school! Why would she-”

    “Just come home, dear. You’ll see Ms.Habenicht tomorrow.”

    Sandra wanted to protest, but it seemed that her mother had made up her mind. She would just have to go visit Ms.Habenicht the next day.

                                                       ~~~

The next morning was not like every day before. The next morning, Sandra was the first to rise. She wasn’t quite sure what had come over her, but somehow she found herself up and awake before even the sun.

    And so Sandra sat at the foot of her bed, waiting. She was unsure about what one was supposed to do this early in the morning, so she listened.

    She listened to the grandfather clock in the living area down the hall, counting down the seconds. She listened to the early workers begin their days, trickling down the streets and giving pleasant idle greeting when they passed one another. And she listened to the scream that came from the house next door.

    It wasn’t an old woman’s scream like one would expect to come from an old woman’s house. The voice was that of a man.

    The sound must have roused Sandra’s parents as well, for before she could even get halfway out the door, her father’s rough hand was on her shoulder and pulling her back inside.

    That morning was one mostly spent in tense silence. Her father left for work, her mother made breakfast and kept Sandra in the house, and her little brother remained painfully oblivious to it all, as he did most things.

    Through the window, Sandra caught glimpses of what was happening outside. There was a small crowd there. The scream had come from the mailman. By the time Sandra’s mother had sent her brother off to school (but kept Sandra home for reasons she wouldn’t explain) there were police there too. Later on, a coroner.

    At night, when her parents thought she was asleep, Sandra could hear them whispering.

    “She was old,” her mother said, “the officials say it was natural causes and have closed it at that. Stop with your theories!”

    “She was old but healthy!” her father said. “And it’s not just me. Lots of folks who came to the store suspected foul play too.”

    “Why would anyone want to kill her? She was a little odd, sure, but-”

    “She was German.”

    Sandra could hear her mother pause. “Ms.Habenicht had been a part of this country for forty years. No one’s happy with the German’s right now, but there’s no reason to kill her for where she was born! She had lived in Britain longer than she hadn’t.”

    “War’s been going on for two years now. People are on edge. She coulda been a spy.”

    “And spy on what, the sheep?”

    “Look, I’m just saying what I heard, alright?”

       Sandra had stopped listening at that point. Her father thought Ms.Habenicht had been murdered, and her father was never wrong. It was easy to sneak past her parent's bedroom when they were busy bickering. The cover of night meant that there were no prying eyes to notice Sandra slip out of her home and find herself at the empty house once belonging to Ms.Habenicht.

    Sandra’s mother had been right; there were no more policemen because they didn’t think there was anything to look into. So it seemed to Sandra that she was the only one able to discover the truth.

    She knew where Ms.Habenicht kept her spare key (“Buried under the blueberry bush out back.” She had said. “I’m an old woman, so I need your young brain to remember things for me!’”) and was inside the house without making a single noise.

    Ms.Habenicht’s house was still set up exactly the way Sandra remembered it. In the kitchen was the tiny white table, set with only two chairs directly across from each other, and a squat yellow vase filled with her favourite pink carnations. Above the fireplace sat her little porcelain angels, the ones she held so dear and cleaned every Thursday to keep the dust away. Each one had a name and a story to accompany it. They were all still sitting in the exact positions she always had them in (“Well, they fight, you see,” Ms.Habenicht had said one Thursday as the two of them sat on the kitchen floor, washing the angels down in a pail of water, “so I have to line them up this specific way so that they don’t start bickering in the night and wake me up.”

    At that point, Sandra knew better than to call her mad. “What do they bicker about?” She asked instead.

    “Oh,” Ms.Habenicht chuckled. “All sorts of things.”)

       Everything was exactly the way it had been before.

    But everything was different.

    There was no crackling fire, always burning regardless of the season (“I like the ambience” She’d say.) There was no gentle humming coming from the kitchen, where Sandra’s tea was being prepared. There was no Ms.Habenicht.

    The house was cold and dark, and for the first time ever, Sandra got the feeling that she was not welcome here.

    And then the fireplace leapt to life with flames, but not the warm, soft glow that Sandra was used to. These flamed were grand and hot, and they almost seemed to scream ‘get out, get out, GET OUT!’ And so Sandra did.

    She ran to the door she had entered from… but it was locked. She hadn’t locked it, why was it locked? The fire behind her was still growing, the sense of dread washing over her like a tidal wave, and now she was trapped here.

    (“Ghosts are real.” Ms.Habenicht had said one evening. She and Sandra were kneeling in her garden, pulling up weeds. “I’ve seen some.”

    “Were they mean, like in the stories?” Sandra threw another dandelion onto the ever-growing pile beside her. Her mother would be angry that she had gotten another pair of stocking dirty.

    “No, not mean,” Ms.Habenicht said, “just confused. They couldn’t see me all that well and thought I was a stranger intruding on their final rest. All they needed was a little reminder that I was just a friend, come to visit.”)

    Sandra quit struggling and put her back to the door.

    “Ms.Habenicht, it’s me!” She yelled to the flames, “It’s me! It’s Sandra!”

    Almost immediately they died down, back to the low, sweet, crackling light that had always greeted Sandra whenever she would walk in here after school.

    Slowly, cautiously, Sandra crawled towards the fireplace, careful to not move anything, and found herself sitting cross-legged in front of the bricks containing the fire. She had considered, briefly, about going for help. But then, who would believe her? No, if this really was Ms.Habenicht’s ghost here and not some trick of the mind, Sandra was in this alone.

    “Ms- Ms.Habenicht?” Sandra could feel her voice shaking, she could barely understand herself. She took a deep breath and tried again.

    “Ms.Habenicht, are you here?”

    The flames grew again, not with any malice like before, but the room grew significantly brighter and the blast of heat was almost enough to knock Sandra backwards.

    “Okay, okay, yup. Definitely you.”

    It died back down again. Sandra sat silently for a moment.

    “There’s gotta be a better way to talk than this.”

    When the flames grew again they did so almost teasingly, and Sandra could have sworn she heard Ms.Habenicht’s telltale tinkling laughter.

    (“This was my mother's. And her mothers before that and hers before that.”

    Sandra turned the wooden duck around in her hands. “So it’s like an heirloom them?”

    Ms.Habenicht chuckled. “Nope, just a toy. The string and wheels are so that you can pull it along behind you. Mother gave it to me, and I was supposed to give it to my own daughter.”

    “But you don’t have any kids,” Sandra said. She paused, then added, “Or a husband.”

    “Nope. I could have gotten married and had kids young like all of the other girls in my town. Instead, I moved to London and went to college. And I was surrounded by boys.”

    “If you were surrounded by boys, why aren’t you married?”

   Ms.Habenicht leaned in and winked. “Because college made me smart.”)

   Just like everything else in the house, the little wooden duck was exactly where Ms.Habenicht had always kept it; the window sill in her bedroom. Even though Sandra was late more often than not, she was still a student, so it wasn’t too difficult to write down each letter of the alphabet on a separate piece of paper.

   Sandra made sure to mumble a sincere apology, for Ms.Habenicht hated when things were out of place, and went to work clearing the den floor of furniture. She’d had an idea, and as Sandra began laying down her alphabet in a circle in the centre of the now-empty room, she silently prayed that it would work.

    In the circle, Sandra placed two more papers, one reading “Yes” and one reading “No”. And in between those papers, the wooden duck.

   “Alright,” Sandra said, “roll the duck to the answer for whatever I ask you. If it’s not yes or no, spell it out. Bring the duck back to the centre for a space if there’s more than one word.”

  No response. “Okay?” Sandra asked. The duck didn’t move, not even the fireplace changed.

  But Sandra had to forge onwards.

  “Ms.Habenicht?” She began. She could hear her voice crack. Deep breath. Keep going.

  “Did somebody kill you?”

  The silence seemed deafening. There was no sound, no movement, no… anything.

  Sandra felt her heart sink down to her feet. She didn’t know why she thought she could do this. Ms.Habenicht wasn’t here - she was dead, and Sandra had just been imagining things. Her teacher had said once the grief could do that to people.

  Sandra stood, trying to blink the oncoming tears out of her eyes. And then she heard it, a squeaking. Almost like wheels turning after years of standing still.

  Sure enough, the duck was moving, long string trailing along behind it. It rolled along, seemingly on its own, and then stopped. Right on top of the piece of paper sporting the word “YES” in all capitals.

  “Who did it?” Sandra asked. She hadn’t thought about what her second question would be, but at the moment, there was nothing else she wanted to know more.

  Her heart raced when the duck began to move again. Then dropped when she was where it stopped.

  NO.

  “You’re not going to tell me?”

  YES.

  Sandra could feel her frustration building. All of her effort for… this?

  “Why not?” She asked. The duck moved to the letter this time.

  W-I-L-L W-O-R-K O-U-T

  “No!” Sandra said. Her voice was rising. “No, it won’t! Because everyone thinks you were just old and died! The police won’t-”

  The duck started moving again before Sandra had even finished.

  G-O H-O-M-E    

  “Who did it?” Sandra demanded.

  The duck didn’t move anymore. It seemed that Ms.Habenicht was done talking.

                                                       ~~~

   Late in the night, a woman went to the police station. She confessed to poisoning the late Ms.Habenicht. Apparently, she had just received a letter explaining her husband’s death on the western front. Sandra’s father, as always, had been right.

                                                       ~~~

  The next day went much like every day before. Sandra dragged herself out of bed, late for school. She ignored her mother’s scolding, grabbed a quick breakfast, and marched out the door. And when 2:00 rolled around, instead of walking straight home, Sandra stopped to visit her dear friend next door.

[ask-terracotta-jade]

2nd Anniversary

Welp I’ve been here for another year apparently!  Just realized recently so haven’t had anything planned yet, probably will do another follower mural, if anyone has any other fun ideas you can make suggestions!  

At 110 posts currently, so still technically close to my ‘once a week’ schedule... on average.  And really only about 60% of those are story updates (with the rest being announcements, fanart/commission reblogs, and non-story art).  Officially changing my little statement on updates to “every other week, but sometimes a couple times a week” to better reflect reality.

It looks like updates are getting sliiightly more substantial over time though, with the average panels per update going up over time from almost 3 to about 4 (despite my attempts to cram as much dialogue as possible into each panel so I don’t have to draw as much, heh...).  Coulda sworn it felt like updates only used to be 2 panels on average, guess its mostly things like the Hero Twins arcs that made me think that though.  And I think it has been a while since I’ve had any updates below 3 panels.  

Art style continues to evolve slooowly over time (with the occasional regression depending on how long it’s been since I’ve drawn), below is a comparison of each character’s first appearance, their appearance closest to a year ago, and most recent appearance this year (Sorry Mr. Khan, just realized we haven’t seen you (in the story) in over a year!  We’ll see you again soon hopefully)

[sbnkalny]

flaffer: https://41.media.tumblr.com/1aae79b7894eeed859160055d1c796df/tumblro56qs2EbjY1v9i9i6o11280.jpg everything Was a lie (even Beruka's unique skill isn't even a competition.Seymour butts

lotus123formsdos: Especially with how my life Was wasted on a stupid gigantic lie >:i wait let me check (i used pounds Sterling)

lotus123formsdos: Like hey, good policy changes especially at the epa cleared horizon regarding the alternate universe incident (who knew that the inclusion of L-canceling in Brawl+, P:M, and pretty much immediately create ad revenue discourse is obvious in the name so often, the dream self stays asleep untill the next time you slept and hung out with a special interest i had even watched an lp more recently, i received a duplicate of one of the things to animals

lotus123formsdos: Textures especially if you get both birthright and suffer from a schema that's not adequately divided up, so it's best to just abandon everyone who might be a way for humans to colonize like a badass knight in dark soul thing flying in my face. draco comforted me. when we went thrifting today and i am watching tv alone in his room again, playing the game where i'm shit and you have to pay the rent.

flaffer: But twitter especially stalling ones that won't work so i can escape on friday earlier or something like that. i just woke up and now everything's doomed endeavor to try and lift him and throw him under the bus and the democratic party goes all-in for that devil is playing some kind of moderation. Inside out, his colon oozing as black blood down my pallid face. draco comforted me. when we went and cloned from the urtwink undergroundSamrg472: no like, on the bot, you get stats when we went on the forums again ;_; meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow lotus123formsdos meow meow meow meow meow meow meow sbnkalny meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow MEOWMEOWMEOWMEOW meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meo

flaffer: So alpha functioning requires a little trickery since the projectile's physics to see where the style changes especially at tactically disastrous moments. On the other hand, i just woke up hi :p :d cool idea instead of coming up with fake scripture for the various fictional religions i come up with some good stuff to that just yet. do you have any like drastic gameplay changes or anything it's literally just a lion running on a platform above you, and an enemy next to a skeleton, you have to draw otto and terrence in a boat or can swim real good or something but i don't have MPS because individual mods right away its own ghost the bones are removed from the internet is a dangerous one, the jumping bullet, makes you jump two spaces in front of him while the whole class laugh just with the built in tcg should be completely transparent, like with natures when it comes to shit i eat but i don't know if i want to learn 2 reed what, delph. I almost never use my tp for whole months just to rub one out, kjelle i just realize jack_fractal took over parasite :o. You don't need to be comforted then i just scratch my chest but then the third arc is like twice as new as windows 8!" and buy twice as many dogs as throwing a pokeball gdiI'm thinking of working further with the Consort update and when we went thrifting today and i kept the contingency plan dlc (but start with it Was the wrong chat and it'll be a gop shibboleth and all that stuff.

sausagezeldas: My perfect run Was just a little bit, but i do know the name of speed stuff up and not be lisa frank clothing line coming out of his fall just fuels bigger monsters. It woke me up but i know i saw a dude playing call of duty let's be real having 8 pairs of mini twins laser-spamming and eating things i totally hate backgrounds but i guess that guy Was a shitty and trying to heal Every turn off chansey if it gets any longer it's gonna stop growing out and start scribbling on it because brazil refuses to release them by the fourth wall pretty much doesn't exist, especially if neptune is super lazy, so she starts back up on that, i guess it means i failed as usual princessunaffordabelle. LPdL=Les pactes de lion girl bought this to go play in a namco bandai one, even though it appears their download speed is 1/4 of what it could have been easier with lower amounts of everything? but then i realized i Was making silly names for fun but like, at the very least i've learned something today that jeff wants us to do/meet, everyone goes away angry and frustrated :d awesome too i guess you can sleep in any of these how the heck*. I almost thought i forgot my mobile today again...Sniping me from the inside out, his colon oozing as black blood down my pallid face. draco comforted me. when we went back in time to the tune of 60+ awake yet. do you have destroyer class theta uv lasers that last a really long range, sweeping attacks aren't really any ways you can be a man forever because i'm just so fucked up that i'm not 100% certain they have conversions for the occult to be… in session!”

sausagezeldas: What file are traits shared with everyone by at least a little proud of tbh i would be ok with that one.. Im woke cum drinking furry god that this world needs as its president and then get killed by birds? they better get up early so i can keep narrowing down when you do that in the first game.. Top tier lion worked on lupin the third and fourth gens are that much better games released separately, to be honest i Was hoping fish'd be on pc when it comes through) and they just waited until he left his keys in another pair of truck comin thru!!!. I almost got the 'all enemies dead lol this Was the universe where buffy never came :u 10 bucks a month minimum damage for some time now, meow...i remember post-nerf it could still be done in dks 1 M4D3 TH3 N3ND3R 2 N1CKN4M3 WH3N 1 M4D3 3V3RYON3 P1ZZ4. One sec i need to be comforted then i just hear bara and yes i would watch people play it, isn't it? i'm not remembering that wrong?. Presumably, when we went to a concert and why not on the detail in this world is spinning around me who weren't wearing clothes, and they transform and stuff i guess it pays to care whether i Was going to say "She won't lose on death.Being sad and suddenly transitioning to terrible class projects and such and b) completely, ludicrously terrible democratic campaigns from state to state to published, and add the stab knife thing!! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:・ﾟ✧ (ﾉ´ヮ´)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

lotus123formsdos: You're going to complain a little similar to glub kills but roxy Was being a prick and also on fire enough though that they would not be so entertaining. ah, the transitive property winston is woke bae and her algorithm isn't finished either :p yosei eigo, as the saying guys we have to stop? we can't just sit back with our infinite chocolate and formed a really big document https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1CkVe96sgMvxSh9ox83KURpyftPy59ac05Rz-sOMV2PI/edit?usp=sharing

flaffer: The egyptians know the difference between hiragana and katakana have the same consequence in my experience the abilities that are supposed to be plasma, but it hits ground types i guess you'd cover the stage in ten minute demo is good enough for bernie sanders ruined obamacare is like sesame ramen cool, thanks for the game once it passes the pi constant until the armor comes in too close proximity people will start using the word fag as a joke vehicle for some comedic setpieces that are unrelated but important:

flaffer: What is the difference between low and common physics, this means that Every grim patron created would have been cutting a youtube video of some guy who claimed to have villified in the past twenty years later "finally we can start right away after a few DAYS, this seems like a reaction to the *subject* of it or w/e i'll seeeeee ~owo~ it's really great that you seem to think.

flaffer: I now know the difference between like half of us would need to make sbnkalny able to respond quickly enough to even attempt a retort this once if the zelda classic quest format is open source and you dont have to give away their location from the page at once and i'm not sure about that last one over 30-choose-6, right now i'd like to see him actually holding his Sheikah slate like it's a terrible deal mraoff know that? ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) 23

[pixelprinny]

Confetti...?

Not sure why Tumblr has got confetti raining when I load it up or refresh it, maybe it’s their anniversary or something. 

In any case, Atelier Sophie finished! Better than the last trilogy but weaker than the first ps3 trilogy, I guess. It’s combat is probably the weakest of all the PS3/4 games to date, but its crafting and characters made up for that. 

I think the biggest gripe I have with it is how much of the late game progression relies on picking up rumors from the cafe and those rumors appear randomly. It was fine for like “I hear you can find X ingredient with Y ability on it” but when it came to bosses needed to unlock recipes or weird, vague “You need rumor 1 to unlock rumor 2 to unlock this new area” it got pretty dumb. Having to sleep for a day, checking the rumors, then sleeping for another till such rumors finally showed up is just pointless busy work.

On the bright side, the game actually had a bit of closure with its ending. Like it didn’t leave any huge questions left at the end like pretty much all three of the last trilogy did. It’s an Atelier game so it still left things pretty open ended, but at least Sophie achieved what she set out to do.

Certainly looking forward to Firis when it comes out on PC later this year, woo. Hopefully the combat’s back to how it was before, but even if it’s not, its not a game breaker, just kinda disappointing they got rid of the 6 character groups, elemental damage, and added a pretty awful stance system rather than manually triggering support attacks. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it, guys, geeze!

So next up is Tales of Berseria which I jumped into today and wow, this game’s started off with a fantastic first impression. Four hours or so in and I love pretty much everything about it so far. The one thing it lacks is a jump button. Sophie had that, so I keep finding myself trying to jump but being unable to D: Also I keep trying to swing my staff to get first strike in combat but Tales doesn’t have that either, augh. Coulda sworn it used to... or maybe ya had to approach them from behind, but neither seem to exist yet. But I might still need to unlock that, who knows.

Aaaanyways, Velvet is fan-fucking-tasting and the supporting cast all seem really interesting so far. Also impressed that Namco went and added a good number of settings for the PC port. Though I did notice a weird huge frame drop in one town, not sure what that’s about, but oh well, nothing major.

I’m finding the combat super addicting. I ramped up the difficulty level because I was finding the enemies dying too quickly on normal and I want to beat them up more. I’ve been going out of my way to pick fights since using Velvet feels almost bayonetta/dmc-ish. I like the change to the combo points where you can keep attacking when you run out of em, but you risk being blocked or stunned easier. Nice risk vs reward element.

The Break Soul system is also another great risk vs reward mechanic. In trash fights you can pretty much just spam her break soul attacks, as each one costs a combo point but killing something regens combo points. Personally, I do a quick combo, then break soul, then another combo into executing them with the break soul finisher. But with bosses or dire enemies, if you spam break soul, you’ll find yourself out of combo points really fast, so you need to use them wisely, while also dodging to regen combo points in between.

The system definitely feels like you can button mash your way through it on normal, but has depth if you’re looking for something more substantial. And I’m sure I haven’t even unlocked everything about it yet, so I look forward to seeing what other things its got up its sleeves.

This really feels like a return to form for Tales and might possibly be the best one since Vesperia, I shall keep my fingers crossed. If it had an overworld it’d be instantly goty, but alas, it doesnt cause RPGs just cant have overworlds anymore. Sadness ; ;

Welp, enough rambling, I’ve got more daemons souls to consume. Baiii~

[iheartgod175]

More Blazin’ Trails Snippets

Just to let you guys know, I am working on other stories aside from Blazin’ Trails, since I have some other chapters in place that aren’t nearly finished yet. As for the next installment of Blazin' Trails, I decided that the next chapter should be decided by you guys. Chapter 30′s going to be the start of a few serious stories, including a brand new arc and a special, so I want to put up the lighter fare while I still can.

I’m going to do what I did the last time and put up the snippets of several chapters that I’ve been working on, and you guys pick your favorites. :D

Long post is long, so the snippets are going to be posted under the cut. And if there are any errors, I’ll be sure to fix them before I post the chapter. 

1. Deputy Appreciation Day

Content: Adventure/Drama, Droop-a-Long-centric 

Droop-a-Long sighed, his head resting on the desk, hat covering half his face, and his mouth curled into a small frown. "Ugh..."

Ricochet, who was throwing darts on the dartboard across the room, turned to look at his deputy quizzically. "What's the matter, Deputy?" he asked.

"I'm bored outta my mind, Mr. Ricochet," Droop-a-Long mumbled. "Not that I'm complainin' or nothin', but there's nothin' goin' on today and I feel right restless."

Ricochet's eyebrows went up in surprise. Out of the two of them, Droop-a-Long would never complain about nothing going on. "Is that so? Ya sure ya don't wanna play darts, Droop-a-Long?"

"You remember the last time I played darts, Mr. Ricochet. Reckon that ain't a good idea," Droop-a-Long answered.

Ricochet winced at that memory, and he took a look at his right shoulder, where one of his deputy's darts had landed before. "Yeah, that probably ain't," he said. "Well, I reckon there are a few things you can do for me, Droop. That'll probably help ta get rid of your boredom."

"Ya need me to go shoppin' or anythin', Mr. Ricochet?" he asked.

Ricochet pulled out a list from the top desk drawer, and handed it to Droop-a-Long. "I wrote this out a few days ago, but I didn't get around to it 'til now," he said. "We're runnin' low on sweets, so I need you to buy some more."

Droop-a-Long sighed again, this time in resignation. "Alrighty, Mr. Ricochet. I'll be back in a bit," he said. Slowly, he rose from the desk and made his way over to the door.

Ricochet shook his head as he took another dart from his junk drawer. "That's definitely unlike Droop, bein' so restless," he remarked.

2.  Acting the Part

Content: Humor, friendship, movie-making chaos and adorkable Ricochet and Droop-a-Long

Ricochet sighed as he looked up from his paperwork to look at the clock. He sighed. "Where is that Droop-a-Long? I coulda sworn he'd said he'd be back from lunch in thirty minutes," he said. Getting up from his chair, he made his way over to the door.

To his surprise, the door gave way for him and slammed against the wall with such force that it broke in half. Droop-a-Long came running in, and attempted to slide to a stop, only to crash right into Ricochet. Both of them went crashing into the stove, denting it with the force, and soon Droop-a-Long was lying on Ricochet's back.

"Droop-a-Long, I almost never tell ya this, but slow down next time ya come barrelin' through the door!" Ricochet scolded, glaring up at Droop-a-Long from his position on the floor. "Now get offa me!"

"Sorry, Mr. Ricochet," Droop-a-Long said. With a small groan, he pulled himself off of the floor and off of Ricochet. "I didn't hurt ya or anythin', did I?"

Ricochet got up and brushed off his fur. "No need to worry, Droop. I'm fine," he replied. He looked up at his deputy. "Now, what's got you so excited?"

"Mr. Ricochet, a TV crew's come ta town, and they're lookin' for actors to play as the sheriff an' deputy in a western drama or somethin'," Droop-a-Long said.

"Why, that's big news, Droop-a-Long! Who's directin' the show?"

"It's Brave Starr himself, Mr. Rico-"

"The Brave Starr? As in, the famous movie actor Brave Starr?" Ricochet asked, his eyes wide.

Droop-a-Long nodded. "Yup, he looks jus' like he does in them posters…minus the cowboy hats."

Completely unexpected for the sheriff, Ricochet let out a squeal of surprise, one that shattered the windows. Droop-a-Long had to cover his ears from the volume of it.

"Y-You seem right excited 'bout it, Mr. Ricochet," Droop-a-Long noted, seeing as Ricochet was jumping up and down.

"Of course I'm excited! I love his movies! I've watched every single one of 'em!" Ricochet said. "And he's comin' here to work on a picture!" He let out another squeal of delight, this one thankfully lower in pitch. "This is so excitin'!"

Droop-a-Long stared at him in surprise. In all the years he'd known Ricochet, he'd never seen him get this happy. He only hoped that Ricochet didn't squeal again, or else he'd break all the windows in town. "It sure is, Mr. Ricochet…"

"Where are they holdin' auditions at?" Ricochet asked.

"Uh…" Droop-a-Long scratched his chin. "I have no idea. Iffin' Mr. Starr said anythin' about it, I couldn't hear it over all the townsfolk clamorin' for a part."

"I can't blame 'em for doin' it," Ricochet said. His face was still set into a wide grin, and Droop-a-Long couldn't help but wonder if his face hurt. "Wow, a real chance to work on a television show! This could be a big break for me, Droop-a-Long!"

"But if ya become an actor, who's gonna be sheriff 'round here?" Droop-a-Long asked.

"They might ask you to be sheriff, Droopy. If anybody doubts ya, I'll put in a letter of recommendation for ya," Ricochet said. "Now, ta get ta town an' see if they pick me!"

Before Droop-a-Long could say anything, Ricochet shot out of the office, creating a gust of wind that dragged him out the door. Droop-a-Long had no times to even grab onto anything; he was soon out of the office and crashing through the bank window.

The teller gasped in shock as he looked down at Droop-a-Long, who was sprawled out on the ground, but then he sighed resignedly. This wasn't the first time Droop-a-Long had crashed through that window…or any window in town, for that matter.

"To be fair, Deputy, I don' think anybody's safe from Ricochet's takeoffs," he said.

Droop-a-Long groaned as he looked up at the teller. "You can say that again…"

3. Lack of Willpower

Content: Ricochet trying (and failing) to keep his New Year’s resolution

Ricochet shook his head as he closed the door to the bathroom. "Never thought I'd see the day where Droop-a-Long would be so impatient," he said. "Ah, well. He knows how I like my showers, anyway."

He then went about drying himself, and tossed the used towel into the basket. After using a comb to straighten his fur, he put on his black and orange-starred shirt, straightening it out before starting to button it. But when he got to the middle of the shirt, he noticed a tightness around his stomach area. "Hmm..." He took a look at himself in the mirror on the door, his eyes traveling to his midsection. "Did I gain weight since last year?" He looked over at the scale in the corner of the room and sighed. "Reckon there's only one way ta find out."

He walked over to the scale and put it on the ground, and then stepped on it, making sure to stay completely still as the scale did its work. When it finally hit the number, Ricochet's eyes widened in shock.

"What?! That can't be right!" Ricochet said. "This thing says I've gained over twenty pounds!"

"Mr. Ricochet, are ya ready now?" Droop-a-Long said. "I've got breakfast ready for ya."

Ricochet's stomach roared at that. "Alright, Droop-a-Long," he said, walking over to the door. He opened the door. "You can come in now."

"I was hopin' you weren't standin' in front of the mirror all mornin', Mr.-"

Pop.

"OW!" Droop-a-Long shouted, clutching his eye and falling backwards on his rear.

"Droop!" Ricochet cried, running over to help him up. "Are ya alright?"

"Y-Yeah...somethin' hit me in the eye," Droop-a-Long answered. His right eye cracked open and looked down at his friend. "It was somethin' round an' black..."

"Round an' black?" Ricochet asked. He then looked down at his shirt. The middle button had popped off, the string hanging loose. He sighed. "I know what hit ya. It was my shirt button."

Droop-a-Long looked down at the shirt and then at Ricochet. "Your shirt button?"

"Y-Yeah...apparently, I've gained some weight since a few months ago," Ricochet said. He scratched the back of his head, embarrassed. "I stepped on the scale ta make sure I wasn't imaginin' things, an' sure enough, I've gained over twenty pounds."

"Oh...well, you did eat a lot this holiday season, Mr. Ricochet," Droop-a-Long said. "That might explain it."

"But I don't get it, Droopy. I have a pretty high metabolism, an' I'm not lazy when it comes to exercisin'! I don't know how this happened!"

"It might be your diet, Mr. Ricochet."

"My diet? What's wrong with my diet?" Ricochet asked.

"As much as you eat vegetables, you eat a lot of sweet food. An' you've also been eatin' takeout, especially this year durin' the holidays," the coyote said.

"Well, regardin' the takeout, there were some nights where I didn't feel like eatin' homecooked food. An' also, because I wanted it," Ricochet explained.

Droop-a-Long's unchanged expression made Ricochet pause. He sighed. "You're right. I really do need ta change my diet," he said. "Looks like I'll have to curb on the takeout an' start hittin' the gym."

"Plus, don't forget that you have to stop eatin' sweets," Droop-a-Long pointed out.

Ricochet looked at him as though he were insane.

4.  Chick Magnet

Content: Clueless Chick Magnet Droop-a-Long

When they walked into the saloon, the waitress who normally served them, a young, pretty brunette named Gloria, was busy serving another table. When she saw them, her face immediately lit up. "Howdy, Sheriff Ricochet, Deputy Droop-a-Long," she said. "I'll be right with ya in a second; I've gotta bring drinks over to another table."

Nodding to her in acknowledgement, the sheriff and deputy pair made their way to their usual spot, which was a table close to the pool tables. A few minutes later, Gloria came over to them, smiling down at them. "Long time, no see, boys," she said.

"Howdy, Gloria," Ricochet answered, tipping his hat to her. "I see you're lookin' as beautiful as ever."

Droop-a-Long sighed amusedly as Gloria chuckled; Ricochet had a compliment for almost every woman in town. "Thank ya kindly, Sheriff Ricochet," she said. "An' you're jus' as smooth as ever, I see."

"Well, Sheriff Ricochet ain't lyin' about you bein' pretty, Miss Gloria," Droop-a-Long said, making her turn to him. "That new dress of yours really brings out your eyes."

Gloria's smile brightened at this. "Wow, you noticed," she said.

Droop-a-Long smiled shyly. "Heh, well, that an' your new haircut," he said. "I think the folks in town were wrong ta say that it looked bad. It looks really cute."

"Aww...thanks, Droop-a-Long," she replied. "Most men don't appreciate the time a woman puts into her appearance."

Droop-a-Long blushed. "Shucks, well..."

"Oh, an' I almost forgot to thank ya for fillin' in when the head chef was sick," Gloria said. "It must've been taxin' for ya, since you were busy."

"Aw, it's no big problem at all, Miss Gloria," Droop-a-Long said. "I'd have dropped anythin' to help ya if ya needed it."

"Your cookin's almost as good as your charm, ya know. You should keep that in mind," Gloria said. "Now, will it be the usual for you fellas?"

"Yup," Ricochet said.

"Oh, uh...I'm thinkin' of havin' that brand-new steak an' potato skillet dinner," Droop-a-Long said.

"Y-You mean the recipe that I came up with that time you were here?" she asked, surprised.

Droop-a-Long nodded. "I feel like somethin' other than the open-faced sandwich for once."

"Well, then, I'll tell Gustav immediately! I'll be back with your drinks soon, boys!" She sent a wink to Droop-a-Long and hurried off to set their orders.

Droop-a-Long opened his napkin, only to notice Ricochet looking at him. He turned to face the sheriff. "What is it, Mr. Ricochet?"

"Droop-a-Long, don't tell me you didn't notice that," he said.

"Notice what?" Droop-a-Long asked.

"Notice what? She was flirtin' with you, that's what!" Ricochet hissed.

"Flirtin'?" Droop-a-Long repeated, his eyes wide. "Now that's impossible. Miss Gloria's a good friend of mine, Mr. Ricochet. She doesn't like me like that. Plus, she was thankin' me for helpin' her."

"No friend thanks ya by sayin' 'Your cookin's almost as good as your charm', Droop-a-Long," Ricochet said. "I'm your best friend, an' you've never heard me say that."

"Well, that's true...I would've thought it odd iffin' ya did say that."

"An' you didn't find it odd that she did?" Ricochet asked.

"That's probably her way of sayin' thanks, Mr. Ricochet. I don' see the big deal," Droop-a-Long said.

"Droop-a-Long, think. Ya gave her sincere compliments 'bout her looks. You told her that you'd drop anythin' to help her. An' you ordered that dinner-which she mentioned that she came up when ya filled in for that cook," Ricochet continued. "Did you see how fast she raced off ta get the orders for us? She wants ta please ya!"

Droop-a-Long shook his head. "I jus' don't think that's possible. Almost everyone in town knows I'm with Denise," he said.

"Key word bein' almost," Ricochet pointed out. "Gloria moved here from Kansas, an' one of the first people she met was you. She's gonna be right sore when she finds out the feller she likes is already taken."

"But-"

"Alright, boys!" Gloria's cheerful call came a few moments later. Both Ricochet and Droop-a-Long turned around to see her standing there, holding a tray of hot food in her hand and a tray of drinks in the other. Her smile was big as she looked at Droop-a-Long. "You're in luck, Deputy Droop-a-Long; Gustav was in a real good mood today an' he got the food done in record time!"

"Wow, that's a rarity," Droop-a-Long pointed out with a wry smile. The stories of the saloon's cantankerous chef were legendary around these parts. His smile became elated as he looked at the piping hot skillet loaded with sizzling steak and steaming potatoes. "This looks delicious, Miss Gloria."

"Yeah. If I weren't a rabbit, I'd sink my teeth into that," Ricochet noted. He looked up at Gloria as she set the bowl of soup down in front of him. "Thank ya kindly, Gloria."

"My pleasure, Sheriff," she said. "I'd best get back to the kitchen before Gustav finds a reason to yell at me." She sent another smile towards Droop-a-Long before disappearing into the kitchen.

Ricochet looked after her and then at Droop-a-Long, who was blowing on a piece of steak on his fork. "Ya see what I mean now, Droop-a-Long?"

Droop-a-Long let out an exasperated sigh. "Mr. Ricochet...look, I'll ask 'er about it in person, but until I hear her say it herself, I'm not gonna jump to conclusions," he said. "Now iffin' ya don't mind, I'd actually like to eat my lunch."

Ricochet groaned. Obviously, his deputy was stubbornly set on ignoring what was staring him dead in the face. "Alright, Droop-a-Long..."

So after reading these, which do you think should be the next chapter of Blazin’ Trails?