welcome-wagon

Hello!

This is a new Naruto themed blog, dedicated to fixing the timeline of the series.

Here we shall be,

  • Answering your thoughts and questions on what may or may not have happened.
  • Fixing up the timeline by dissecting it and giving better details as to what had possibly happened. None of this Hashimara was around long enough to have a child AND be around to see his grandchildren business.
  • Expanding on the ideas and cultures of the different villages (Large and possibly small) and the clans within them. 
  • Possibly touching a little on the economics and civilian lifestyles within.
  • As well we may reblog certain fanfictions we feel fit our criteria and may even post our own.
  • There may also be art that we make and post or art we reblog that we feel fit the criteria.

This blog is primarily for fun but it should mostly be staying prior to the Naruto generation with slight dabs into the main portion here and there. So it is mainly fixated around Minato’s and Kushina’s time and all those before them.

If you have any questions please ask!

Welcome Wagon (Flashback) || Flora & Meredith

@mersoldsoul

When Flora realized her youngest sister was going to be arriving home, she freaked out. The house was an absolute wreck, she was hungover, and she wanted to do more for her sisters arrival home. She had been on such a bender lately that beer bottles scattered the floor, the tables, everything. She wanted to throw up.

Originally, when Meredith arrived home, Flora had a completely different plan in mind. There was going to be a cake, a banner, small fireworks, and maybe even a clean house. Flora was sure there wasn’t enough time for her to do everything she planned on doing for Mer, but she was determined to get as much done as possible. How hard could it be to bake a cake and clean the house at the same time? She whipped out her wand and started working her way into the kitchen, trying to put together the cake ingredients as quick as possible. She liked marble cake and while Flora would love to try to make that from scratch, she needed to use the baking stuff she already had stored away. Once she had that being mixed, she started to use her free hand to start throwing away beer bottles. It felt like there were thousands, but she needed to get them in as quick as possible. She almost over-mixed the batter and sighed, dropping a beer bottle on the ground by accident but managed to save the batter. She cursed under her breath, putting the cake batter in the pan and in the oven as quick as possible before focusing on the bigger mess at hand. It was getting to be a little harder than expected, but Flora was determined.

She spent the next hour cleaning the house and trying to hang the banner she quickly painted on the front of the house. She forgot about the cake completely and was so determined to finish everything, that she didn’t notice her sister approaching the house.

Welcome Wagon - Bellamy & Lara

[txt] Hey, this is Lara. Just a heads up - I’m on my way over to see the empty apartment.

Lara had been invited to check out one of the empty apartments. As a potential resident, she was eager to see what kind of person this landlord was. Lara made her way out of the dinky hotel she’d been staying in and started toward Pyewacket, phone in pocket and headphones playing the walking directions as she went.

“In 300 feet, your destination is on your right.” Siri warned Lara as she was approaching the fairly tall brick building. She took a moment to admire the porches of the building… she could definitely see herself living here. 

[txt] Aaand I’m here!

She sent the text as she was approaching the front doors of the building.

@thisbrutalbelle

3

Three Eli’s…LMAO :D! I just can’t get enough of this boy ;v; <33!

Top: Eli with a cowboy hat…🤠 

Bottom Left: Ensign Eli Vanto (The way i see him…with tame hair when he’s with the empire)

Bottom Right: Eli Vanto from The Welcome Wagon by @white-rainbowff

I like to believe Eli has a beauty mark on the top his lip and one by his eye.

Nerd in the City: The Welcome Wagon Debacle

What the hell happened to me?!? What are these damn things on my neck!

The last thing I definitely remember was the landlord inviting me to join a Welcome Wagon commitee for one of her new tenants.  I was bored so I figured what the heck, I’ll try and be a good neighbor. After that things get kind of blurry.

I do remember saying hello to some people, and eating some fruitcake, but then everything just sort of went blank. Next thing I know I’m standing in the middle of my  own apartment in my boxers with these strange marks on my neck.  I can’t remember who we held the Welcome Wagon for, or even what apartment it was in.

I called the landlord to find out what the hell was going on,  and she said the same thing happened to her. She also said she was getting inundated with calls from other tenants who were on the committee with the same problem. And here’s the real kicker; the Landlord said there aren’t even supposed to be any new tenants in the building for another three days.   What the heck is going on?!? Who the hell was this Welcome Wagon for?!?

No way Max is going to buy this story. Heck,  I probably wouldn’t believe it either.  She’s gonna think I’m stepping out on her, and this mark is some kind of Hickey gone bad. 

What the hell am I gonna do? I’ll tell you one thing,  I’m never joining another Welcome Wagon committee ever again!

Ask Rules!!

((Hey it’s the Mun! I just wanted to lay down some rules for asks))

1. You can have opinions, but don’t be a jerk.

I’m not a baby, I won’t block you just cuz you said something I don’t like. I believe in respectful disagreement. But if you come on to just flat out bash someone or something, you are being a jerk.

2. No NSFW

Ok….. Slightly dirty jokes are ok. And stuff like that but nothing flat out NSFW. I want to keep this blog relatively fine for younger fans.

3. Nothing to bash other ships

When I say this, I mean it. Yes, Fruk and Prucan and other ships exsist. But I believe (once again) in respectful disagreement. One of my favorite blogs of all time is a Fruk blog. (You probably know who ;) )

4. Any of these AUs are not OK

- Parent x child (romantically, platonically is fine)
- Omegaverse
- Furrys (literally anything having to do with animals, except neckotalia. Guys I can’t draw animals.)
- (but seriously, no omegaverse. It’s a personal thing)

5. The Mun likes questions too.

I don’t bite. I want us to be friends. Tumblr needs more Franada. And who doesn’t love Usuk? I would love to talk to you. Don’t be shy. I’m like the shyest person on this website, so if I can start an askblog, we can make a great community.

6. Franada and Usuk may be the focus but other characters exsist too.

I want to keep FACE the main focus but you can ask about other characters as well.

7. If you have a problem, tell me.

Don’t just get offended if you have a problem. Tell me, maybe we can solve it.

((Anyway guys. I may change these a little or add some stuff but for now this is what I have. I thank you bunches. —Mun Jeanne))

He lifted his head and beamed brightly at Eli. “You can count on me!” he chirped…before realizing just how cheesy that sounded.

Eli’s lips grazed Lyste’s warm cheek in a soft kiss. “I know I can, darlin’.”

The Welcome Wagon: Chapter 3 by @white-rainbowff

Oh these two ;v;! I love my sweet bois very much! Eli and Lyste just having a tender moment is my everything!

📦🤠…….just wait. I have so much to offer. Hahahaha…..thank you ;v; <3!

For the record, I am never going to buy into the narrative that the DCEU “got off to a rocky start” or “somehow turned it around,” no matter what happens going forward. Screw that shit. I’m already tired of hearing it.

I see folks preparing a rationale for appreciating other DCEU films IN SPITE of what Snyder has built (and is still building, ya chuckleheads) and it’s weak and annoying.

In my opinion, you don’t get to praise Wonder Woman and/or Justice League while taking a brief crap on the films that got us here. I’m not gonna be the welcome wagon for that sort of closed-minded elitist fanboy purist shit.

His officer’s cap was a bit askew, his uniform was slightly wrinkled. In his arms was a variety of…things: a portable holoprojector, a bottle of lilac liquor, a basket with a wedge of cheese peeking out from beneath the cloth, three holodiscs wedged between his fingers and a small box balanced atop of it all, held there by Lyste’s chin. It looked as if he had run a marathon to get here.

Those impossibly blue eyes glittered at Eli, his small, narrow lips pulled back into a shy smile, and a rosiness bloomed in those pale cheeks.

“Hi…Eli…May I come in?”

The Welcome Wagon: Chapter 2 by  @white-rainbowff

Rainbow gave me a lil sneak peak so i was able to add a bit more detail like the movies and so on. 

Lil headcannon, Lyste got to nervous/excited that he forgot which way he need to go..lol.

Essays in Existentialism: Doctors

Doctor AU - Clarke works with Peds and Lexa is a career driven heart surgeon. They meet over a case with a sick baby.

“Excuse me, where’s the NICU?” Clarke broke down and asked a nurse after looping back down to the cafeteria once more. She thought it was the second left, but she might have made the fourth right, and she’d ended up in the basement, and she’d ended up in the gift shop, and she’d ended up on psyche. “Thank you.”

The directions were even more complicated, but Clarke was too afraid to ask again so she smiled and started out down the halls, anxiously checking her watch. Her beeper kept buzzing on her hip.

Keep reading

2

me to anon

*sighs* me to

But my thought is Will HATES having to go home and only really does because he doesn’t want to leave his mom alone. He lives in a very small, conservative town where it’s a everyone knows everyone type of deal. And his mom was already the town heathen when she had Will without being married to the father. So there’s not exactly a welcome wagon for him when he gets back.

His mom has learned the “killed or be killed” lifestyle is best when protecting her family while Will has felt its always just been a waste of time and energy to try and reason with them.

Clap of Thunder, Usnavi de la Vega x Reader

Prompt:  Hi there ! I know it’s not really a prompt but could you do a usnavi x reader soulmate au ?

Word-count: 1,933 (Woo, boy I was cutting it close.)

Warnings: Like, maybe one curse word? I think? Also, angst. The dark blue, silkier kind. 

Note: Lol I’m not at a hundred, although I’m supposed to post this when I reach a hundred. I couldn’t wait. 

This stuff is angsty, I gotta warn you now. It has a happy ending, don’t worry, but don’t expect the regular sunny Usnavi (this functions a bit as a character study in that regard). Hope you enjoy the trash! 

P.S.: I referenced a fic on ao3 for the mantra, thought I would put it out there!


When it all came down to it, Usnavi was practical.

See, people would say differently; his own childish idealism when it came to the distant seas and golden, sun-drenched beaches of his homeland would contrast sharply with his own self-proclamations of pragmatism. But Usnavi rejects the notion that human beings were capable of being either one thing or the other, so he stands in the middle, comfortable if a little tense at times.

(He’d risked the thought that maybe they couldn’t take him all that seriously when he was recklessly awkward and sometimes too sunny, and also a little bit irritating at times. It would fit in with their assumption.) (And not to mention, he was all of those things. But it also happened that he was all of those things and more.)  

If anything, he would say that his pragmatism stemmed from the stiff, black-and-white nature of how he saw things. Quite literally. It was almost ironic, how he could compose soliloquies and sonnets about the beauty of the Dominican Republic (in that he was sure of, never mind the fact that he actually didn’t know what gold or sea foam or crystalline looked like) and the only things he could see on a day to day basis were the endless swatches of gray and coal and white.

He didn’t know which one of his parents bore the deficit, or maybe if it was perhaps both of them, because Abuela Claudia didn’t know, and all the keepsakes his parents had passed on was given to Abuela to filter.

And as much as he liked to believe in the power of things like love and honest goodness and (the reason for his own predicament) soulmates, when you are robbed by loss at such a young age, it’s hard not to keep a reminder around just in case you start selling yourself too hard to whimsical fantasies:

There is more to life than love. There is more to love than joy.

Usnavi kept that reminder close to his chest, and soon it was routine to mutter it to himself, as routine as wiping down the counters of his bodega, as routine as smiling at Vanessa and scolding Sonny as he was, once again, late.

There is more to life than love. There is more to love than joy.


Benny ran to him first when he started seeing color, and Usnavi couldn’t help it, he felt a stab of envy he couldn’t tap down quick enough.

“I see green, man.” Benny breathed, in awe. “And it’s more beautiful than I thought it was going to be.”

“Really?” He couldn’t keep the straight wonder out of his voice.

“It’s almost alive, man. It’s practically breathing.”

“That’s amazing, Benny.” he said, patting his friend on the back. The man barely noticed him, still looking at the overarching planes of grass that stretched before them in the form of Central Park. They were all still varying shades of gray to Usnavi, but undoubtedly they were lush, exuberant hills to Benny now. He took the mantra out of his chest and started again.

There is more to life than love. There is more to love than joy.

Soon enough, the reason for Benny being able to see color was evident in the reappearance of Nina a few weeks later, looking more stressed than anything else but also looking around with wide eyes. She was seeing blue for the first time. On that very same day, their eyes met on the Rosario family dispatch and the burst of color was powerful enough to have them bowl over.


Usnavi wasn’t sure about too many things, but he was sure that he loved Vanessa. Never mind that he’d looked into her eyes and sure enough, he wasn’t able to see color the next second, but at that point, he was used to (and almost content with) living in a monochromatic world, and if he couldn’t have color, he would have Vanessa.

(She ended up finding her soulmate in her next-door neighbor in her new building, a girl named Georgia who owned three cats and had “the nicest pair of eyes I’ve ever seen”, according to Vanessa. Usnavi handled the news, her pitying gaze, with a grain of salt, and the typical repetition:

There is more to life than love. There is more to love than joy.)


He was on his way home from the bodega when it happened.

He had dropped something, a bag of groceries, and he had sighed, looked at the mess and bent down to pick up all that had fallen. He had put away the last carton of milk and was stretching back up to his normal height, but a flash of something stopped him.

The fire hydrant.

Usnavi had to rub at his eyes. There was no way. No.

He waited for the blur in his vision to fade (he had rubbed quite hard) and fixed his gaze on the fire hydrant again. There was no questioning it.

The fire hydrant was no longer gray.

It was angry, and hot, and colored so vividly it stabbed at his eyes. Red, he realized.

How much time he spent staring at that fire hydrant, he didn’t know. It was only when the brilliant light of the sun began to fade that he looked up. God.

There was so much to see.

It was in the middle of October, and almost everything was rendered into differing, varying shades of red. Usnavi stood there for what felt like forever, taking it all in. He recalled what Benny said to him about green.

It’s almost alive, man. It’s practically breathing.”

Perhaps it could apply to others?

He finally started moving, his hands going to his face and feeling a slight jolt at the wetness he found on his cheeks. With a great sniff, he wiped his nose on the sleeve of his shirt and departed to his apartment. He had a hell of a lot to tell Sonny.


There was apparently a new girl in town. Usnavi would be more curious about her if she wasn’t moving into Vanessa’s old apartment. (It was still a relatively fresh wound, and even if the telltale sign that his soulmate was near was literally right before his eyes, he had loved Vanessa, and that mattered.)

Sonny had delivered the news to him as he walked in the bodega one morning, as late as he ever was. He had talked to her, because he was Sonny and that was what he did.

“Really pretty,” Sonny said, hopping onto the counter Usnavi just wiped. “Really friendly. Also, single.”

Usnavi rolled his eyes. “I’ll consider it then,” he said, not really meaning it.

The next day however, he was at the doorstep of the aforementioned new girl, holding a cup of coffee and a pastry, hoping to be some kind of welcome wagon. He pressed the buzzer multiple times but to no avail. Instead, he dropped off the to-go cup and the pastry (it was in a bag anyway,) on the doormat.

He looked at the cup again, thinking. Before he could second-guess himself, he picked it back up, fumbled for the Sharpie he always kept in his pocket, and scrawled on the cup:

Hi there!

Consider this a Welcome to the Neighborhood gift.

From:
The bodega across the street
.

He walked back, waving to anyone who stopped and said hello. The bell above the door tinkled as he made his entrance.

Sonny’s head popped up from behind the counter.

“Any luck?”

Usnavi shook his head. Sonny bit down on his bottom lip, but did not press the issue.

He’s only been seeing red recently. Benny said that he was supposed to be seeing more by now. Usnavi paid it no mind. The old mantra was still being put to use, although it was starting to rust a little.

There is more to life than love. There is more to love than joy.


He heard you before he saw you.

“Yeah, hi, is this, um, ‘the bodega across the street’? Okay, wow that was dumb. It’s just that, um, someone left coffee and a donut on my doorstep and it said it was from the bodega across the street and I checked and this was the bodega across the street and anyway—“

“Yes, we are indeed the, uh, ‘bodega across the street’.” Sonny said, amused. “Excuse the mystery, my cousin wrote that on your cup.”

“Oh.” There was a pause. “Can you tell your cousin ‘Thank you’? He didn’t have to do that, and it was honestly really nice that he did.”

Usnavi, all the while, was making another cup of coffee completely identical to the one he left on the doormat. He couldn’t understand what suddenly came over him, but he had heard you, and you sounded lovely, and all he knew was that he wanted to hear more. He was hastily pouring on foam when he heard Sonny say:

“Will that be all?”

“Yeah, that’d be all.”

Without thinking, he burst out of the back of the shop.

“Wait!”

Sonny was smirking, and the cash register was open, the money already half-way into it, but his eyes sought out yours.

It was as sudden as a clap of thunder.

One minute, all was as it normally was, if for the stray shocks of red that stood out from the bleak backdrop of gray and black and white he was for so long accustomed to. He had so long settled himself into that world, had so long contented himself to that world completely devoid of color save for a scant handful. He had convinced himself, after all, that things like the promise of soulmates were seductive but seemed more distant than the Dominican Republic ever was. He had made peace with that didn’t he?

What was that old epithet he had attached to his heart the minute he understood that things like love and honest goodness and soulmates had the potential to turn on you as easily as they could welcome you with open arms?

“It’s you,”

And then the curse is broken, and he is looking at you, and the world is awash with life and renewed and reborn, and you are at the very center of it, with your eyes and your hair and your skin.

He stepped forward, slipped, because he had dropped the coffee the minute his eyes met yours and also because he is Usnavi and this kind of shit always happened. Sonny caught him around the waist and hauled him up, and when he felt himself stable enough, he planted his hands on the counter for extra leverage, and looked at you again.

There were tears in your (wonderful, wonderful) eyes as you looked back at him, and you were shaky on your feet (although you were certainly much more balanced than he was).

“It’s you,” you said. He nodded, trying to get rid of the molasses sticking the sides of his throat together.

He stuck his hand out, remembering to pass it along his pant leg to take off the sheen of cold sweat, cleared his throat. “Usnavi,” he said.

Your smile was bright, as bright as the yellow dress you wore. “Y/N,” you said, your hand slipping into his and a shock of pure, undiluted fire passed through him.

The laugh of absolute jubilation that escaped him was as irrepressible as the tears streaming down his face.

“Wonderful,” he said, ignoring Sonny and hopping over the counter. He grabbed your other hand.

Wonderful,”