friends' trunks

Your Dragon Ball Z Best Friend~


Originally posted by neogohann

Taurus:Chi Chi

Originally posted by controversialdb


Originally posted by konketsuu


Originally posted by rains-hand19


Originally posted by vgeta


Originally posted by roronoa


Originally posted by renemustaine

Scorpio:Android 18

Originally posted by princexvegeta


Originally posted by ii3oobs


Originally posted by z-fighter7

Aquarius:Android 17

Originally posted by hanamiyaslips


Originally posted by enzodbzgifs

Her Boys

It was a stormy night. Ravaging winds and eviscerating rain had swept in from the West, following a summer of nothing but eternal sunshine and hot spells. The skies were dark and swirling, and the road shone slick with water.

The old manor house stood largely unaffected, solid and unwavering in the face of such an onslaught. The trees groaned, shifting with the weight of the wind ploughing into their trunks, and there was a little broom shed that’s foundations looked as though they would be pulled from the earth and the wooden panels of the walls would go splintering. Other than that, there was nothing.

Until a figure appeared out of nowhere.

It was largely unremarkable, for the wind made one’s eyes hard to trust, but one minute there was solitude and silence, and with the next bout of storm, a boy stood in its place.

He was relatively tall, though his body was racked, and he was shivering violently. He ran with fear lacing his strides, clutching tightly at the thick cloak wrapped around him and lugging after his heels an old leather trunk.

The boy stopped only when he got to the house, collapsing against the doorway, gasping sharply for air. He knocked desperately.

There was no answer. Nobody even stirred.

But then, a light flickered on above him. And another. It was like a game of dominos, each light lit quicker than the last, until the door was flung open and a yellow warmth devoured him.


James Potter stood in the house, glasses shoved onto his nose, tired eyes slowly widening. His hair was stuck up in all possible directions.

Sirius tried to smile, but he could taste blood and knew it was more of a grimace.

“Dear Merlin,” James whispered.

“I didn’t know where else to go,” Sirius offered quietly.

It was only then that James noticed the trunk behind him. He didn’t waste another second, throwing the door wider and ushering his friend inside, taking the trunk from his cold and clammy hands and hauling it into the entryway. The door slammed shut behind them.

James had seen many things in the five years he’d spent being friends with Sirius Black. He had seen him thrash around in the dead of night, pleading to an invisible man to stop, flinching and crying out when they didn’t. He had seen him determined and loving ferociously, stopping at nothing to make sure that Remus Lupin was not alone when the rest of society seemed to believe he should be. He had seen him cold, when the hatred burned through him, black as his namesake and eyes. He had seen him euphoric and free, laughing like nothing in the world could touch him and at one time, James had believed that to be true.

He had never seen him like this.

Sirius’ eye was swollen, purple and bulging, protruding from his ashen face like a stone from water. His lip was bust, still oozing blood, and there was a bruise blossoming on his cheekbone, ugly and grey and pink. James knew that if he lifted Sirius’ shirt, even a fraction, he’d see identical bruises, like a meadow spreading up his skin.

He was shaking, trembling so vigorously, James was sure he would burst. He was convinced that Sirius would explode and everything he’d ever felt, everything he’d held inside of him, would come ricocheting out, all the red and gold and black traversing through his veins.

Sirius,” whispered James, and he felt his throat close up. Without saying another word (he wasn’t sure he could), he pulled the smaller boy into his arms, hugging him so closely, so tightly, as if this embrace would make all of Sirius’ broken parts fit back together. But then James wondered if he wasn’t whole to begin with.

The two boys stood there, clutching onto one another so firmly they left marks. Sirius sobbed into James’ shoulder, fingers clenched around the material of his pyjamas and James didn’t mind that he was now as drenched and cold as the storm outside. His brother was safe in here, in his arms, and if it meant he had to hold him for an eternity, James would do so in a heartbeat.

“James, darling, what-?”

Euphemia Potter stopped at the foot of the stairs. She breathed in sharply, and her words were lost.

“Sirius, love, is that you? What’s happened? What’s-? Oh my.”

She didn’t wait any longer, rushing over and she bundled both boys into her arms, hugging them to her body as though they were till children in need of a mother’s embrace, and she felt Sirius cling to her, melt into her warmth.

Euphemia realised he had probably never felt the love of a mother’s embrace before. She made sure to hug him tighter.

She patted his back to let her go, pulling away and wiping at her eyes, sniffing resolutely. She cast a drying and warming charm on him, smiling softly, holding his face tenderly in her hands. “Love, we need to get you out of these clothes. You’ll freeze to death if not. James, run and get him some of your pyjamas.”

James seemed hesitant to leave his friend, but his mother’s eyes urged him and he set off at a sprint, returning mere seconds later with a pair of clean Quidditch nightclothes, emblazoned with snitches and Puddlemere United. Sirius hardly had the effort to jab at James’ shocking allegiances.

“Can you walk, dear?” Euphemia asked him, brushing away some hair by his eyes. Though her face didn’t show it, she wanted to flinch at the sight of him. A child. And yet, here he was, beaten and bloody, almost a pulp. She tried to lead him upstairs, but he collapsed in her arms. “No, it’s okay. We’ll get you on the settee for tonight and move you upstairs to your room tomorrow.”

With James’ help, they gently led Sirius over to the settee, and Euphemia procured blankets and pillows to wrap him up with. She flicked her wand and a fire leapt in the hearth, bathing the room immediately in heat.

“I’ll just go and get some balm for his eye, and see if we have any potions for his bruises. I-”

“Mum,” James cut her off.

She fell quiet and the two looked at the broken boy on their settee. He had settled into the cushions, burrowing into their warmth, with the blanket tucked right up to his chin. In the firelight, the purple of his face made him look haunted, nearly dead. James’ throat clenched up at the thought and he cast it away instantly, focusing instead on the steady rise and fall of his brother’s chest.

Euphemia felt her heart melt. A sad smile formed at her lips. “I’ll be right back.”

Luckily, because they had a son as danger prone as James, their medical cupboard was well-stocked, and she was returning in no time with the necessary balms and potions and a warm cloth to wipe away any blood, but as she stepped back into their living room, she stopped in her tracks.

James had climbed under the covers beside Sirius, and was snoring peacefully, the smaller boy tucked against his chest. He had his arm draped over her son’s waist, and every now and then, his hand would seize into a fist and he’d clutch the material of James’ shirt. James absently stroked Sirius’ hair.

Euphemia faltered.

She and Fleamont had always had trouble having children. They had thought, as old as they were, that they might be condemned to live in a big, empty house, happy and in love, though missing something, missing the echoing of laughter and the high-pitched glee that followed it, spiralling out of control, and yelling after ghosts that sprinted down the hallways and slammed doors and made messes in the kitchen, and trailed mud into the house after a day spent dancing in the rain-

The day she found out she was pregnant with James was the happiest of her life, and though he was her blessing and her joy, it had come at a cost, and she was warned that another childbirth would kill her. And so, the dreams of a big family with several children had bubbled down to one child, whom she loved with all her heart.

Now, however, she thought that wasn’t true.

She laid the tray of medicines down on the coffee table, before quietly moving over to her boys. She pressed a lingering kiss to each of their foreheads, and pulled the blanket further up, making sure it covered their feet.

Euphemia stopped in the doorway, looking back once more at her sons.

No, she didn’t have one child. She had two.

Scary Poppins…

  • eren: what's up guys! i have jean's shoes!
  • armin: why do you have jean's shoes?
  • eren: look man it was 1am, he left them in mikasa's trunk, so i assumed they were mine

Consider this a call-out post aimed at anyone who’s drawn Trunks ever.

You know you have a stack where he’s wearing the CC logo don’t lie ;)

  • Marron: Mmmhh, this cake is amazing!
  • Videl: Oh my Kami, get a room.
  • Marron: I would get a room with this cake. I think I could show this cake a good time.
  • Erasa: If you had to, what would you give up? Food or sex?
  • Marron [instantly]: Sex!
  • Trunks: Seriously, answer faster!
  • Marron: Oh, I’m sorry honey, when she said sex I wasn’t thinking about sex with you…
  • Trunks [to the others]: It’s like a giant hug!
  • Erasa: Gohan, how about you? Which would you give up? Sex or Food?
  • Gohan [with conviction]: Food!
  • Erasa: Okay how about… Sex or Books?
  • Gohan: ...
  • Gohan:’s like Sophie’s Choice.
  • Videl: What about you, Sharp? What would you give up? Sex or Food?
  • Sharpner [contemplating]: Uh… Um… I dunno, too hard.
  • Videl: No, you gotta pick one.
  • Sharpner: Uh… Food. ...No, Sex. ...Food! Sex! Food! Se- I dunno! I want both! I want- I want girls on bread!
  • Trunks and Gohan: *nod in agreement*

lingoarchaic  asked:

Hey, it's me Vegetastan ☺. Got a new play along for ya. Trunks: Hey Mom, can I ask you something? Mom: Sure, what is it? Trunks: How did you know you were in love with Papa?

Bulma momentarily stopped spreading the chocolate frosting over the cake she’d just baked for her husband and she looked at her son.

“Why do you ask?” She finally said, resuming her task.

“Well… Today is your wedding anniversary, right?”

“Yeah… And?”

“And… Every year I go to Goten’s place so you two can celebrate together…”

Bulma kept working on her cake, secretly wondering where her child was going with this. It was unlike Trunks to ask a lot of questions about her relationship with Vegeta, particularly about their early rocky years.


“So, every year Goten’s mom asks me about you two. Like… I don’t know… It’s almost like she can’t believe you guys are in love or something…”

The hidden sorrow behind her son’s voice made her heart sink a little, and her anger at her discovery of Chichi’s nosiness didn’t help either.

‘Damn, Chichi…’

She was one to talk about love and romance…  

Her husband only married her in order to keep some stupid childhood promise he’d made without even knowing what marriage was really all about. Thankfully, it’d all worked out in the end for the two of them, but it wasn’t as if it’d been the ‘Romance of the Century’ either, certainly, not at the beginning.

For Dende’s sake! Goku even thought getting married had to do with food!

“Sweetie, come here. Sit down…” Bulma said softly, encouraging the boy to sit by her side. She guessed it was as good a time as any to discuss certain things with Trunks.

She quickly finished her work and she set the finished cake aside, peeking at the large bowl on the table, which still had some melted chocolate left in it.

“Wanna dip?” Bulma offered, playfully wiggling her eyebrows.

Trunks replied enthusiastically, without hesitation. “Yeah!”

Bulma chuckled, shaking her head as she walked to Capsule Corp.’s massive fridge to fetch some fresh strawberries. Living with a couple of Saiyans wasn’t always easy, but at least it wasn’t hard to figure out how to cheer them up: with lots of delicious food.

She set the strawberries on the table, quietly offering them to Trunks, who eagerly grabbed a juicy berry and happily dipped it into the chocolate as Bulma imitated his actions.

“So… Love, uh?”


“Okay… Well…” Bulma started, taking another bite. “I’d say it wasn’t something that happened overnight, you know?”

The little boy scowled. “So, it wasn’t like in the movies?”

“In the movies?”

“Yeah…” Trunks shrugged. “Like, when the girl meets the guy and she knows she’s gonna marry him and stuff…”

The woman smiled knowingly. “You mean ‘love at first sight’, right?”

“I guess…”

“Mmm… No, Trunks. From my experience, love doesn’t really work that way.”

“It doesn’t?” Trunks asked, honestly surprised.

Bulma finished her strawberry, picking up another one and losing count of how many her son had already eaten.

“Nope. I think you have to get to know a person before you love them. I don’t believe you can really love someone you don’t know too well…”

There was a brief pause, and Trunks realized his mom was now deep in thought.

“I guess I knew I was in love with your dad sometime before I found out I was pregnant with you…” She finally concluded.

“Really?” The child enquired, raising his eyebrows. “So, you didn’t like him at first?”

“Oh, no! That’s not what I meant! If I hadn’t liked him I would have never invited him to live here! No… I guess… I guess what I mean is… You know your dad is a quiet man, right?”

“Uh-huh…” He agreed.

“So, that’s why it took longer for me to get to know him, I guess…”

Trunks swallowed a mouthful of berries before asking again.

“And why is that?”

“Why is what?”

“You know… Why is dad so quiet? Is it because he’s Saiyan?”

Bulma tilted her head to the side a little, knowing she had to be careful with how much information about Vegeta’s past she disclosed to her son. When Trunks was a baby and Vegeta finally agreed to stay on Earth and give their relationship and fatherhood a chance, she knew, even though her man had been too proud to discuss such things, that Vegeta was probably afraid of his son ending up hating him in the future, so she told him he’d only talk about his past with Trunks when the child was older and only if he felt comfortable discussing certain matters with him.

Interestingly enough, Bulma had never been truly scared of Trunks hating Vegeta when he’d finally discover his past. After all, if Mirai Trunks had ended up loving and respecting him so much without having spent a lot of time with him, she knew their Trunks, the one who’d actually been raised by a dad he fiercely admired, would undoubtedly forgive his father’s evil deeds when he was older.

“I think so, Trunks… I think a big part of it has to do with him being Saiyan. And, also… Well, your dad didn’t have a lot of friends growing up, so I guess it was hard for him at first to open up to people…”

“Papa had no friends?”

One look at Trunks’ sad frown told Bulma she’d just perhaps said too much…

“Hey! Come here!” Bulma asked invitingly, offering him a hug with open arms her son accepted greedily. She hugged him tightly and kissed his forehead, realizing that, even though Trunks wasn’t a small child anymore, he’d always be her little boy to her.

“Your dad grew up in Space, and it’s harder to make friends out there, that’s all…” She lied, after all, there’d be enough time for her son to discover how dark the Universe could be sometimes. Until then, she’d protect his innocence as much as she could, not that the child hadn’t already gone through hard times during the battle against Buu.  

“But then he came to Earth and we all welcomed him. And now he has lots of friends, right?”

Trunks smirked, so much like his father the resemblance was uncanny.

“He does…” He agreed.

Bulma held him closer, whispering in his ear. “And we all love him very much, don’t we?”

The boy blushed, embarrassed about disclosing his feelings towards his father in front of his mom.

Oh, yeah…

He was Vegeta’s child, after all…

“Moooom…” He whined as Bulma playfully ruffled his hair.

“We do love him! Now, be a good boy and bring your dad his cake, he’s been in the GR for too long and he needs to take a break anyway.”

Trunks cautiously held the massive chocolate cake his mom had baked for his dad, knowing just how much it must have meant for her since Bulma almost never cooked, always relying on their own private chefs to deal with all the cooking.

“Be careful, baby…” Bulma warned him tenderly.

“Mom?” Trunks asked again, already on his way out of the kitchen.


“Then when did you finally know you were in love with Papa?”

“Oh, right… Um… I guess I knew when I finally realized I’d be really sad if I ever had to live without him; that was also before I got pregnant with you,” she honestly replied.

It was the truth.

Despite the fact that it was their mutual physical attraction towards each other what started their sexual affair so many years ago, at some point around the time she discovered she was pregnant with Trunks, she finally had the courage to admit to herself she’d really fallen in love with the proud Saiyan Prince and, even though Vegeta was still in deep denial about their new, still very fragile relationship, she knew he’d already grown fond of her on some level even then.

All in all, Bulma liked to believe there’d been some kind of love involved during Trunks’ conception, and she unquestionably wanted her child to firmly believe that too.

“I see… Thanks Mom!”

“No problem, sweetie… Careful with that cake! And don’t drop the fork!” She cautioned as she saw the boy walking out into the garden in search of his father.

Once he reached his destination, Trunks knocked twice on the heavy gate of his dad’s beloved Gravity Room. Almost instantly, the buzzing noise ceased, signaling Vegeta had switched it off, and a very sweaty Saiyan opened the metal door.

“What is it, boy?” He asked, wiping off some of the sweat from his brow with a white towel and taking a large gulp of ice cold water with his other hand.

“Um, Mom asked to bring you this, she made it for you…”

One look at the sweet delicacy told Vegeta all he needed to know about what day it was.

“I see…” He replied, sitting on the stairs by the door and grabbing the cake, putting it carefully on his lap and picking up the fork his woman had also placed on the large plate. When he raised his gaze, he noticed Trunks still standing right in front of him, staring at him with intrigued eyes.

“Is there anything else you need, boy?”

“Uh? Um, no, that was all… I hope you like it, Papa!”

Vegeta assented in confirmation and just as his son was about to leave, he saw him turn around, asking him one final question.



“You have a lot of friends now, right?”

The Prince stopped chewing on his mouthful of cake for a moment, wondering what the Hell was the kid talking about now. Whatever it was, the expression on his face told him it was a serious question, so he pondered his words for a minute.


What a word…

He knew just how fond those damned earthlings were of their friendships and all of those strange, sentimental attachments and, yet, hadn’t he ended up becoming one of them anyway?

The closest thing to a ‘friend’ he’d had before he landed on Earth were Nappa and Raditz, and they were more like comrades to him, subjects of the Royal Crown, and if he was honest with himself, they basically stuck together because they were the only ones from their kind left.

Then, did he have any friends?

If the definition of a friend was someone who fought by your side and that you could rely on when things got ugly, then, much to his shame, he had to admit all these bizarre, ridiculous people had become his friends, so he assented.

“I do, boy. Now, why don’t you go to the kitchen and help your mother clean up?”

Trunks offered him the brightest smile, and he looked so relieved by his answer that now Vegeta knew he’d definitely have to ask Bulma what that whole friend questioning thing was all about later. He had the feeling she’d had a hand on it.

“Sure!” He yelled, running to the kitchen. “Have fun with Mom tonight!”

Vegeta drank some more water, paying close attention to the scene taking place now in their kitchen through its large glass windows. Trunks was, indeed, helping Bulma place all the dirty dishes in the dishwasher as she sat down, distractedly rubbing her belly. He noticed his wife had been doing that a lot ever since she’d found out she was pregnant again, and even though she wasn’t showing yet, she kept caressing her still flat tummy at all times. It was a miracle no one had noted her strange behavior yet. Bulma had insisted they kept it a secret for as long as they could, concerned about something potentially going wrong during the early stages. She was older now than she was when she conceived Trunks and he’d had a hard time convincing her about having another child.

He smirked, pleased to see his son was growing up to be a responsible young man, obeying him without question, though he knew Bulma had played a big role on Trunks becoming the kind-hearted kid he was. Without his mother’s presence around him, the child would have probably become the grumpy, miserable man he himself had been before the woman came into his life, smashing his barriers down and making him see and explore life in a way he never thought possible.

The warrior savored another bite of the delicious cake, secretly trying to imagine what kind of a surprise his mischievous little minx would have prepared for him tonight, and he wiped off his brow again with the back of his hand, looking at the summer’s bright blue sky and wondering how was it possible that someone like him ended up getting so damn lucky.

Yes, life was good for the Saiyan Prince… 

There you go @lingoarchaic!

Sorry it took me so long to write this one for you!

Now I finally have more free time to write again, I hope you like it!