Blake and Yang were sat in the kitchen awaiting their dinner guest. Yang is staring at the clock with a irritated fold of her arms. 

Yang: Well…your guest is late.

Blake: C’mon Yang she’ll be here…and she’s our guest - remember?

Yang: I don’t care…she’s seen you naked. *huffing and turning away*

Blake: Yang stop! I told you it’s in the past now. We’ve both moved on.

Yang: …

Blake:  *sighing*

*knock knock*

Blake: *looking at Yang pleadingly* Please try to be nice. Please 

Blake opens the door and lets the girl in. Ilya gives her pink and purple flowers as a gift.

Blake: Oh thanks. *quickly putting them down on the side* come in. Yang this is Ily-

Yang got up and rushed over to square herself up to the smaller faunus, they stood there making eye contact for what felt like hours.

Blake: !

Yang: So you’re my kitten’s ex? Heh aintcha a little small?

Ilya: So you must be Yang. Nice to meet you and why yes - big things usually come in smaller packages *gesturing to her flowers* 

Yang: *eyes flashing red* 

Ilya: *transforming red* 

Blake: “No!” *jumping between them both*

Yang and Ilya noticing each other’s colours

Yang: Wow cool a chameleon faunus! Sweet skin there.

Ilya: Your eyes are burning fire red……with resolve. I’d like to know more about them.

Blake: ?

Yang: *putting her arm round her shoulder * C’mon come sit and tell me all about your White Fang days. Blake never talks about them. Always got her head in a book.

Ilya: I know that feeling all too well but I managed to catch her attention with colourful shows I used to put on for her. 

Yang: Haha!

Blake: *shaking her head in her hands*  Now I’m about to turn red..

rbssns  asked:

What would happen if SF Papyrus found out another monster was trying for your affection while hes still trying to win you over as well? What would he do?


He’s a pretty chill, cheery guy, but it doesn’t mean he’s a nice one 100% of the time. He won’t waste his energy doing it if he doesn’t have to. That goes double for anyone thinking they can get in on his turf. He makes it very clear that you’re the one he’s after, & he’s not very big on sharing. It’s just a bunch of empty threats, with a few back-handed compliments sprinkled in to get his point made. You’re nothing compared him, pal, might as well give up before things get ugly. Then again, you’re a tough one to beat in that department, aintcha?

East Texas Gothic

There’s a hidden cemetery on the road to the park. There’s a hidden cemetery behind the Community Center. There’s a hidden cemetery in your backyard.

“It’s a dry heat,” the grocery store clerk reminds you as you buy your 6th bag of ice. “It’s a dry heat,” your second grade school teacher says as she refuels her SUV, white hair tangled with sweat. “It’s a dry heat,” the old man on the corner says as he rolls up the sleeves of his poplin shirt. “It’s a dry heat,” you repeat. The humidity is only 97% today. 

“You’re Ol’ Mike’s granddaughter, aintcha?” you hear. You are. You have no other name. You don’t know who Old Mike is. You’re his granddaughter.

Mr. Miller owns a soda shop on the town square. From the window you can see the courthouse in the center. It burned down in 1937. 

The night sky is vast with no streetlights. Buck Hooten disappeared last year after he got a telescope for Christmas. You don’t look up for fear it will swallow you.

“Watch for coyotes,” they say. You live in town. You have no pets. Still, you lock your door at dark and listen. You can hear them howling. You pray for coyotes.

The Pink Mansion is haunted. You ride your bike past every day, tar sticking to your Keds. The “For Sale” sign sways gently. The July air is still. 

It rains for three hours. The forest weeps for joy. The sun drinks up its tears, leaving it parched again. 

The house next door is abandoned. The house across the street is abandoned. The house catty-corner to yours is abandoned. The house you live in is abandoned. 

There are cracks in the soil. Some of them have marks from scrabbling hands at the edges. You scuff them with the sole of your shoe.

There is a church across the street from another church. The stained glass is red like blood, and when the doors open you can hear the choir. No one attends on Sunday morning.

The football stadium fills with the entire town on Friday night. “Budge over,” a third cousin says. “We need more room. There’s not enough room. Gotta see them boys play!” Outside, people crush at the gates, trampling one another to get into the stadium. Their screams sound like the Fight Song. We need more room. There’s not enough room. Gotta see them boys play.

You walk into the woods to get out of the heat. The woods are hushed and still around you, a sea of green and brown the doesn’t end. When you turn back toward home, you only see more trees. The woods have you now.

Bad Date AU

Pairing: Speeding Bullet (SniperScout)

Rating: PG-13, SFW

Summary: Inspired by an Au I saw that said something along the lines of “Person A has a bad date and person B is their waiter”. Scout has a name since I felt it’d be weird just referring to him as Scout while Sniper has a name uvu;;

(Dedicated to the bIGGEST BABY NERD EVER)

—   —   —

He could, at least, say this: She hadn’t left yet.

Mundy gave the most convincing faux-smile he could manage as the girl returned, apologizing for the umpteenth visit to the bathroom. At this point he was sure that she either had major intestinal issues…or she was making phone calls. And considering she hadn’t mentioned anything prior to the date, and that she’d ordered just about as much deep-fried food as was offered, he was banking on the latter.

He tried to make conversation where he could, though. He’d been raised to be polite. And she hadn’t really…been rude, per-say. She just wasn’t paying attention to, well, anything that wasn’t her. She went on and on about work, about how she felt threatened about the new girl there being ‘more attractive’, about how her last boyfriend had left. It was fine and dandy to talk about work, but her ex? Really?

As she excused herself once more to clamber off to the ‘restroom’, Mundy sighed and wiped a hand over his face. His eyes hurt from the dim lights they used. Apparently, ‘Romantic Lighting’ meant dimming the lights so low that all you could see was smoke and the vague outline of your date.

“Hey, how’s it going over here?” Their waiter came around after a few minutes with a wide smile. “The girl you were with was real cute. She your girlfriend?”

Mundy looked up, mildly confused. “Nah, I don’t think we’re done. She might want dessert when she gets back…I don’t think there will be more than this date, honestly.”

The waiters smile faltered for a moment, glancing back behind him.

“You…uh. You sure about that? She kinda, well…I dunno how else to say this, buddy. She left.” He sheepishly bit his lip, looking apologetically at the Aussie.

Mundy stared at him, blinked, and sighed. Well, he couldn’t say he was surprised.

“…Well, then. I’d like a beer. And then the bill, please.” He sat up and rolled his shoulders, staring wistfully out the window.

“Alright. Heineken okay for you?” The waiter was speaking gently. It kind of pissed Mundy off, but he ignored it.

“It’s fine.” He waved the waiter away and rubbed at his eyes again, lusting for a beer and for this awful escapade to just be done. He was tired of pretending that a life with a sweet young lady would work. Lord knows he’d tried. As far as he could tell, he just wasn’t cut out for married life. Or dating life, for that matter.

It was a few self-pitying  minutes later when the Waiter returned, no longer in his normal attire, carrying two beers and no bill.

“This…is for you, man.” He handed one beer to Mundy, who took it with a wary eye. The waiter, who introduced himself as Buck, sat down across from him and opened up his own.

Mundy squinted at the man in front of him. “What’s all this, then? I hope you didn’t add that to my bill.” He gestured to the second beer.

Buck chuckled, shaking his head. “No, not after the night you had, man. I footed the bill. Think of it as an apology for you havin’ to deal with that horrible date.” He sat forward and leaned on the table, hands tapping against the neck of his bottle. “I saw her goin’ back and forth. I was thinkin’ maybe she just had relatives in the hospital or something, but she just kept bouncing from the table to the phones in the back…It’s hard not to overhear things. I thought maybe you knew.”

Mundy rolled his eyes. “Oh, of course.”

“So. How on earth did you get stuck with the flighty broad? You seem, I dunno…disinterested.” The way he smiled made Mundy unfurl, just a little, and he returned the smile with his own little sneer.

“That would be my mums doing. She’s a lovely woman herself, but she has terrible taste in ladies. I haven’t met a one I’d actually want to settle down with, but my parents are old and impatient. If you want believe it, this is the third one this week.”

Buck laughed at that, a staccato of amusement. It wasn’t long before they were chatting about nothing in particular. Words came easy, and the air was incredibly relaxed. Eventually, they headed to a bar once closing time hit. Once there, they sat at a table of their own, away from the ladies who had eyed them as they walked in, away from the groups of people drinking. They sat, talked, drank a little, and laughed. Sometimes one would get up to change the song, and they’d dance a little, separately, together, to the song. Then they’d laugh, sit down, order a drink and talk about nothing again.

By the end of the night, Mundy was captivated. Buck had a way with speaking—animated, cheerful, and maybe a little cocky. It was funny listening to his stories about his brothers, and his own failed romantic escapades. It was refreshing. He couldn’t count how many years it had been since he’d had a chance to just talk, with a friend, family, anyone. Though Buck was obviously accustomed to speaking for more than one, and while he did dominate the conversations, he still, somehow, let Mundy have room to talk and lead the conversations.

And he listened, with reverence. As soon as Mundy opened his mouth to speak, Buck stopped, sometimes mid-sentence, and let his hands fall, no matter what spastic gesture he was portraying. At one point he even apologized,

“Look, uh. I know I get carried away talkin’ sometimes, and My boss has been on me about it, so if I need to, don’t hesitate in tellin’ me to shut up okay? I won’t mind.” He smiled sheepishly, shrugging. “I’ve been getting better about it, I think.”

“If you hadn’t mentioned it, I wouldn’t have known there was a problem. You’re eager to point out your faults, aintcha?” Mundy snorted, sipping from his drink. “Now go on with your story, I was interested—if you couldn’t tell. I think you were talking about your brother Randy making snow angels in the nude?”

More and more, Mundy found himself drawn to the guy. He’d never met anyone with such immediate magnetism—and if Buck was to be believed, with how he was acting, as if they’d been pals for years—the feeling was mutual.  What the feeling was, he couldn’t really identify.

Did he want to be friends? Yeah, that sounded reasonable. But it didn’t seem to fit. His mind wandered from the story, and he thought deeper.

Did he want to maybe be more than just ‘friends’? He’d never considered that before, not with a man. He had to look at Buck again, who was none-the-wiser to his apparent revelation.  He was chattering away, laughing, grinning, and then he looked Mundy directly in the eyes and tried to explain what happens to a man’s genitals when they’re in the cold.

While it certainly wasn’t the most flattering thing to say when someone was considering whether they would date you or not, somehow, it didn’t really put Mundy off. He cackled as the story concluded and thought, Yeah, maybe he wouldn’t mind dating Buck. Hell, maybe he’d enjoy dating a man for a change.

This thought pervaded his thoughts more and more as the night drawled on. A couple times he excused himself to go outside to smoke, preferring clean air to blow into rather than the smog of a smokers-inclusive bar. Buck would follow him, he’d be given a smoke, and he’d light his on Mundy’s already lit one.

With their faces that close, it wasn’t hard for Mundy’s mind to wander into untested waters. As they sat there in comfortable silence, smoking away, he imagined what it would be like to date a man. Date Buck, specifically.

Again, he couldn’t find much protest. Not on his part, anyhow. He still wasn’t sure how Buck felt about it, and he wasn’t going to broach the subject. Not tonight. He felt that would be too soon. Maybe in a couple weeks—a month, maybe. He’d hope that by then their bond would be strong enough not to break if he was turned down. When he was turned down.

His mood took a sour turn. He nudged Buck, signaling he was ready to go back inside, and ordered them both a couple of mixed drinks.

“A toast, to the ladies who don’t know what they got when they see it!” Buck clinked their glasses together, sneering.

A couple hours later, and even the bar was closing up. They’d been out all night, and it showed. The both of them were tipsy, tired, and ready to depart.

“Where do you live, man? I can walk ya.” Buck was an affectionate drunk. He had his arm around Mundy’s opposing shoulder, who had to lean down a little to allow him to do so. He leaned his head on Mundy’s nearest shoulder, humming a song they’d danced to earlier.

“I can get there on my own, but it’s nice of you to offer. What about you?” Mundy, on the other hand, hadn’t been as affected. Sure, he was tipsy, and quite giggly, but there was little marked differences.

“Mm, okay, uh…” Buck looked around, squinted at the street sign, and pointed to the left. “I live out uh, down that way, near the edge of town. Not very far, I think…”

He licked his lips and smacked them, yawning. “Man, I’m tired. And my muscles hurt.”

“Yeah, maybe if you hadn’t back pedaled your arse against the wall while you were dancing, it wouldn’t hurt so much.” Mundy snickered and ruffled his companion’s hair.

“Ey! You’re the one who told me to do it! I was just followin’ orders, ‘Yer Highness’.”

They both paused, looking at each other. Moments passed, then each of their faces broke into a grin, and they hollered and barked their laughter. Someone turned on a light and shouted at them to ‘Shut the fuck up’.

Buck puffed up his chest, barking back at him. “No, YOU, ya chuckleheaded dingus!”

They stumbled away, out of breath from laughter.

It wasn’t as close as Buck had promised it was. While the walk didn’t take hours, it did take a good 20 to 30 minutes sober. So around 40 to 50 minutes drunk. As they walked, Buck’s little talking problem began to show. He’d start talking and talking and talking, and only stop if Mundy nudged him more than once.

Eventually, he slid his arm down around Mundy’s and they linked arms as they walked. Mundy smiled a little at the close contact, but knew that Buck was using him for help with walking.

They eventually made it to Bucks place, where all the lights were off. The neighborhood was the type that appeared safe enough at day, but at night the shadows became sinister. Mundy sobered a little, but Buck assured him he’d be safe.

“Otherwise,” he swayed his finger, pointing it into Mundy’s nose. “Me an’ my brothers will kick some ass for ya.”

He smiled, not in the least reassured, and helped Buck up the rickety porch stairs to his house.

“It’s been fun, Mate. We should do this again sometime…Yeah?” Mundy smiled, offering his hand for a shake. He was surprised when Buck wrapped him in one of the tightest hugs he’d had in his life.

He was further surprised by the small peck on the cheek, and the slip of paper slid into his back pocket.

“Don’t be a stranger, man! Come by the restaurant any time, man. Or call. Callin’ is good too, just—er. Make sure it’s ME you’re talking to.” He winked, grinning.

 Mundy was left speechless, a little flustered, and holding his cheek as Buck unlocked and stumbled into his house. The Aussie stood, stunned for the several minutes it took Buck to knock something down, break it, and wake everyone in the house up.

Well. Guess he didn’t have to worry about Buck being interested after all.

posing as a limb-robbed clownyouth, the marotte called Evil delights in tailing Bastards, begging them for eyes, aww giveus a few mister, dont be stingy guv, youve got loads aintcha. when they raise their hand to curse the child, as Bastards love to do (and forgetting in their fervour the traditional lack of children in the clownrealms), Evil leaps into that hand, so as to take their eyes by force. it takes their teeth, too, if they have any on hand, out of spite.

CLASS: Marotte

DIET: Ocular

anonymous asked:

You can win with Neji if you fought anyone however with Hinata lmao, hell no. Y'all know every fight she's ever been in she ends up getting fucked up I mean that's a fact. "Hamura chakra" you mean the OP SP gave her, wasn't her lion blue chakra why'd they give her purple ? Hinata can't win against anyone face it, she's not in Neji's level or Hanabi's they're powerhouses elite Hinata ain't shit. I like her but her hype is BS, a rock defeated her Pein did too, manga she didn't last 2 mins lmao.


You’re really pressed by this shit aintcha?

Yes, Hinata was defeated as a genin by her genius jounin level cousin who was better at her own style than she was after showcasing a level of taijutsu no other rookie was capable of.

Yes, Hinata was taken out as now a chuunin by a pseudo God who took out Jiraiya, the fifth Hokage, future sixth Hokage, and had the future seventh Hokage dead to rights until she interfered. This totally means she hasn’t grown in ability at all since Kurenai took her under her wing when Hiashi believed the then self conscious Hinata to be lower in ability than her younger sister. Nevermind the same Hiashi declared Hinata Neji’s equal on the battlefield and she then proceeded to outclass him in stamina and byakugan range, and combined her own jutsu with his strongest to amplify its power exponentially.

And lol at you so confidently declaring Hamura’s power up SP’s creation when Kishimoto created him specifically as the link between the Hyuuga and Kaguya and the script of the movie was heavily edited by the man himself and he stated with his own voice to me that its a power upgrade. But stay salty.

“Country girls make do”: (Korn AU)

It was a humid day in the Canadian countryside. The Canadian birds had taken refuge under Canadian trees, to avoid the Canadian heat. Kane, a young journalist for BuzzFeed, had made the long journey from the city for his next article.

“Country girls make do,” the words, echoed in his ears. He didn’t understand what it meant. What was a “country girl?” Why are they “making do?” He had so many unanswered questions.

As He arrived on the farm, a young farmhand, Chris, met him by the gates.

“Yer’ a gosh dern city boy aintcha?” She drawled.

He didn’t understand, He had never heard this dialect before, yet it felt so.. natural. “Yes, I am,” He confirmed. “Can you show me around the farm? Maybe answer a few questions for my BuzzFeed article?”

She snorted. “We'on gets’ no BuzzFeed out in the Canadian countryside​. I s'pose I might can show you around though.”

Kane nodded his thanks, following the young farmhand around, and asking questions to his hearts content. “What does the phrase,‘Country girls make do’, mean?” He inquired.

Chris turned to him, prodding his chest with her pitchfork. “That there’s somethin’ you gotta answer in yer heart.”

“In my heart? That doesn’t make sense, w-what does that mean? I—” Kane cut himself off, staring at a corn field in the distance. His lips felt chapped, a primal urge growing within him. Everything else seemed to fade, Chris, the Canadian heat, the Canadian farm, everything. All he knew was him, and the cornfield.

He stumbled forward, unable to understand what he was feeling. Attraction? Confusion? Lust? These feelings battled for dominance within him.

“Country girls make do,” the words echoed in his head. His mouth went dry, his throat was burning.

“country girls make do.” He rasped, reaching out for a cornstock.

“Country girls make do..”

revengehunter01  asked:

Hey, if you were given Immortality, would you call it a blessing, or a curse? (personally, I would prefer to steer well clear of death, but that's just me)

Ooh definitely a curse, unless it means I do not need sustenance too then it becomes a blessing! I’d just wander the world, get into all sorts of hijinks, learn everything, watch as the supernova consumes everything within this galaxy, or book a flight to explore the stars.

You’re… you’re drunk again aintcha mate?

@notimeforemotion kinda asked for this.

Ford laughed, waving the bartender back over, tapping the rim of his glass for a refill. “Well, you’re just the CUTEST lil peach when ya got some drink in ya, aintcha?” He turned back to the other man with a grin. “How many more drinks ‘fore ya get up on that there stage with me?” He pointed to the karaoke machine and ran his fingers over his mustache.

OMG Vermin!!!

It’s pronounced “bon” (not BONNNNN) and It’s “mo” not “motts”. It’s French, not tomato paste. Also, yep…..making it about your ladypain, aintcha???

Yep, VD sucks ass…..

Stunned Roscoe could formulate a potential idea like that—–and yes, share it with children, there dude. Professional police work at it’s best….

anonymous asked:

Gerson is a veteran of the war of humans and monsters, so there's no way he DOESN'T know who you are, but he's friendly and happy to see you anyway. I wouldn't be surprised if he was really on point with figuring out Blind!Frisk's problems, and just, taking them in out of the cold moisture of waterfall and sharing stories out of the cold in his cave.

[*don’t worry kiddo, i know what you humans can be with different ones. Always thought that it was unnecessarily cruel. You all are the same race, aintcha?]


“Okay, okay, I’m sleepin’!” He grinned, closing his eyes, and let loose a couple of fake snores. Then he opened one eye. “…You’re here pretty late, aintcha?”

“H - hush, I - I’m leaving when I know you’re sleeping.” Is she stalling? Perhaps. But he didn’t need to know that. She just needed him to lie still and go to bed, so she kept her grip firm on his wrists, though not too hard. “You have a test, so sleep!”

Fanfic: In the Cards

So, while browsing tumblr tags I ran across a head-canon by the second person ever to follow me (who also reblogs my fic like WOAH) and my brain went and short circuited on the idea, so I present this fic for millkywell. Just because I can. XP

Title: In the Cards

Based on the headcanon: •They /knew/ each other when they were in their pokémon phases at like 9 or 10 and like went to the same school for a year but didn’t really remember each other until sock found the charizard card with his name on the back in sharpie in Jon’s stuff that he had traded him because he had a huge crush on him

I wasn’t actually able to work in them going to school together, so I went a slightly different route; but I really hope you like. It’s very… fluffy.

Note: What I know about Pokemon the TCG and tournaments can be counted on the fingers of one hand with five left over. I remember seeing the cartoon a few times while I was babysitting but not much more than that. Any errors are mine and freely owned up to.

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