#eeyyyyyyy

[esseastri]

Things you can do at the library:

•borrow books

•read books

•research

•attend events with authors and other speakers

•get engaged!

[beaglesinbowties]

@yotoob wanted lighthearted fun -  Debbie and Ruth (GLOW) getting trashed together and fighting over who does a better Russian accent.

There’s a moment before Debbie accepts the first drink from Melrose where her eyes want to travel to the last place she’d seen Ruth—but then Debbie shakes herself and reaches for the glass.

Three successful matches in as many weeks is cause for celebration. The network likes what they’re doing… loves it, even. Debbie is a huge hit.

Ruth is a huge hit, too.

Nearly the entire group is settled around the pool on lounge chairs, a few bottles of vodka donated courtesy of Bash. Either that or Melrose and taken some from his place. Debbie doesn’t care either way.

She winces as the drink burns a fiery trail down her throat. No matter how many times she gets drunk, she always forgets how bad the initial burn is.

But Mark has Randy and she’s earned this.

Her mind turns to countless hours spent practicing with Ruth, slamming into each other and gripping hair and any other number of things that she thought might actually be satisfying once. And maybe it is a little satisfying, tossing Ruth around the ring. Often as not, though, she finds herself scared of truly hurting Ruth.

She’ll never say that out loud. Ever.

The first drink is gone after several long gulps.

“You might wanna slow down,” Cherry drawls from the lounge chair several spots down.

If Debbie wasn’t a little terrified of Cherry she might raise her middle finger up in a salute. Maybe after more drinks.

She definitely needs more drinks.

“Let me get that for you,” she hears as she’s making a beeline for the vodka and orange juice.

Debbie remains still as Ruth carefully tugs the glass free of her grip, making sure not to come into direct contact with her skin.

Three weeks of training and matches has only helped so much with that. Debbie can’t say she’s no longer mad at Ruth anymore but, maybe, she’s getting used to it. Sometimes, she even finds herself laughing at some of Ruth’s dumbass ploys.

“There you go,” Ruth says with a cheerful smile as the refilled glass is returned to her hand.

Debbie’s face twitches, maybe her body’s old attempt at something like a smile she might have once tried offering. Her lips are stiff and manages something that might be a “thanks.”

She hadn’t meant to say that. What-fucking-ever. Stupid Ruth.

The trek back to her seat is quick; she mumbles something that might be interpreted as friendly as she passes the other girls.

Tammé takes the seat adjacent to hers, and for a while she has something akin to a normal conversation about Tammé’s son and all his achievements.

Her glass is taken and refilled three more times as the night wears on, and Debbie doesn’t have to look to know it’s Ruth. She isn’t sure why Ruth is bothering—alcohol usually makes her meaner, less likely to hold back on all the things she knows she’s already said many times to Ruth.

Debbie blinks once. Twice. Her eyebrows slowly rise. Does Ruth like being… she doesn’t finish the thought, not quite liking the warm tingles she feels sparking in unimaginable places.

“That’s not fucking awkward at all,” she mutters under her breath. She’s glad Tammé’s turned in for the night. As she looks around she realizes most of the other girls have already turned to their rooms, save—Debbie squints as she tries to make the blurry figures across the pool come into focus.

Rhonda is sitting in Reggie’s lap and, oh. Well. Rhonda is very flexible, apparently.

“Come on,” Ruth declares in her Zoya voice, “we take vodka back to room, leave sapphic lovers to little Isle of Lesbos.”

Debbie snorts and allows herself to be pulled up by the arm. Whoo, the floor seems to be moving a little underneath her. “I’m going to need a hell of a lot more vodka to be willing to go back to your room.” She frowns at herself, not liking how suggestive that might sound.

The Zoya act drops for a moment, Ruth’s brow furrowed and her mouth pinched. “Oh, um, where do you want to go, then? I don’t think staying out here is a good idea.”

“Stupid Ruth,” Debbie mumbles with a wavering glare. Of course the innuendo had gone over the idiot’s head, anyway. Whatever.

“You like Zoya, better, da?”

If the floor weren’t still moving, Debbie might try pushing Ruth into the pool. It’s tempting still, even though she knows she’ll probably end up in the damn thing as well.

She straightens. Why is Ruth so goddamn stupid? Her mind fumbles as she sucks on her lower lip. She’s done the accent before. Several times, in fact, to make fun of Stupid Ruth. “No, comrade, I hate both. You like sad Russian girl with matchsticks that I happily kick in face.”

Ruth snorts, both her eyebrows rising at the challenge. It’s easier to ignore the moan coming from the other side of the pool if Debbie makes a point to glare at her stupid face.

“You think you match for Zoya? I laugh at you pitiful attempts to talk like true professional!” Ruth’s accent is even heavier than normal.

Debbie smirks, not needing to think of her retort. “I’ve seen naked bears at circus too drunk to stand that are more professional!”

Ruth’s eyes go wide, only to narrow again as she drops her Zoya posture. “Okay, time out. We know the Russian bit is mine. I’m better at it because I’ve had way more practice—”

“I’m better at everything, ever. Let’s just get that out of the way right now.” Debbie lifts her chin and snatches the bottle of vodka from Ruth and tilts it up to her lips.

Terrible idea, she thinks as her eyes burn, but she resolutely keeps her face impassive.

“Oh, please,” Ruth says with a roll of her eyes. She brightens. “I know how to settle this! Gregory!”

Debbie curses how much she’s had to drink when Ruth bolts for the motel office, lugging the bottle behind at a slower pace and cursing more under her breath as she unsteadily follows.

“Please, no,” Gregory says as he pinches the bridge of his nose. “I don’t want one, I don’t want two. I have woman—”

“Sometimes,” Ruth finishes in her Zoya voice.

“Hey.” Gregory frowns at her, pointing a warning finger.

“Gregory,” Debbie affects her own idea of a Russian accent, “we just need one think from you— confirm what we all know: I sound better than this shriveled-up potato.”

“Gregory! Ignore this dried up sausage’s poor attempts!” Ruth grins and turns to snatch the bottle from a protesting Debbie. “Look, I bring mother’s milk to share with dear friend!”

Gregory looks at Ruth, and then down at the bottle. Quicker than both definitely-drunk women can react, he’s grabbed the vodka and disappeared into his private office.

The lock makes an audible click before either Ruth or Debbie have time to round the counter.

“Well, shit.” Ruth crosses her arms and fidgets. “I’m already starting to sober up. What are we gonna do now?”

Debbie licks her lips, thinking about what’s going on back at the pool despite her best wishes not to. “We could always make out,” she says as casually as possible.

Ruth squawks, eyes wide and hands bracing on either side of the counter. “What?!”

“What?” Debbie licks her lips again and shrugs. “It’s been a while. Don’t be a fucking baby about it.”

When Ruth doesn’t respond, Debbie heaves a put-upon sigh. “Whatever,” she says with a dismissive wave. With no booze she might as well head back to her room.

She’s nearly at her door when she hears Ruth scrambling behind her. “Wait!”

Debbie smirks and pushes the door to her room open.

[cosassthings]

Here, have some art

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[sweenyalice]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Chapters: 10/? Fandom: Naruto Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Hyuuga Hinata/Kankurou, Gaara/Hyuuga Hinata, Gaara/Hyuuga Hinata/Kankurou, Nara Shikamaru/Temari Characters: Hyuuga Hinata, Gaara (Naruto), Kankurou (Naruto), Temari (Naruto), Hyuuga Hanabi, Suna no Sankyoudai | Sand Siblings Additional Tags: OCs owned by sweenyalice on tumblr, This was requested Summary:

Can a cheesy political ploy to increase the power of the Hyuuga Clan tear apart the friendship between Hinata and the Sand Siblings?

[pozzym]

Your nickname is Tonerf. (Do you get the hidden pun;) )

oooooh anon I see whatcha did there ;)

*finger guns*

[matsuosomatsu]

flower language 1/?

This is a story about finding love in between rows of ice cream scoop chrysanthemums and candy colored carnations. 

or, this is a mp100 AU where everything is the same except Reigen is a florist that just happens to attract espers like bees to a flower.

AO3 LINK

this AU is just unabashedly and entirely self-indulgent ims orry i have poor self-control lmfao

Reigen Arataka owns a flower shop that he has named ‘Flowers and Such’ and it stands modestly in a rented out building in one of Seasoning City’s numerous bustling intersections.

Reigen likes managing the small shop even if it is a lot more work compared to the office job he had prior. He likes the work. He likes digging his fingers in cool moist soil when he plants new seedlings at the small garden he has behind the office. He likes the thought that he can nurture and grow bright and colorful things from right under his fingertips and he wonders if the joy and deep-seated accomplishment he feels when he sees the first seedlings sprout is the same feeling parents feel while watching their little children accomplish small things like naming the colors of the rainbow.

Most of all, he likes it because it gives him the chance to see and encounter different kinds of people from various walks of life.  Most people would enter his shop with bright smiles to match their eyes, often times with a winding story or two to keep him company as he packs up their orders. Reigen knows his part in this script. He either has to say “Congratulations, you must be so happy!” or “Here’s an extra bud for good luck!”

Often times, the people that enter his shop have smiles that match their slumped shoulders. Eyes and chins turned towards the ground, like they're beckoning the earth to just open up and swallow them whole. Reigen knows his part in this script, too. All he has to do is talk much more slowly, pack up the customer’s order and wish them a “I hope everything turns out alright” and what he hopes is an encouraging smile. Sometimes the customer smiles back. Sometimes they don’t. But Reigen knows it is all part of the script and that he can do nothing more so he goes back to filling out his order forms and checking the little flower garden he has behind his little store.

Occasionally people would come wandering in and would engage him with flower talk. They’re mostly old charming women with their equally old and charming friends out on a brunch date. Reigen would regale them with techniques and tips and where to get the best quality foam and seeds. They would titter and giggle around him, at how knowledgeable and passionate he is about plants and flowers so unlike the other businessmen his age. He would wave his hands in front of him and plead humility but inwardly he would puff up and smile nonetheless.  

When they would finally leave the shop with a promise of coming back to make a purchase, Reigen would give them a little wave back in return. Sometimes they do. Sometimes they don’t. Reigen knows it is all part of the script.

He is ringing up and finalizing an order of an earlier customer when the man enters his shop.

He is a bit eccentric, Reigen decides as he watches the man's eyes dart to the rack of curling Morning Glories soaking up late afternoon sunlight next to the window display to the row of ice cream scoops of yellow and red chrysanthemums right across from them. Reigen needs to remind Mob to ease off of the ‘mums for a couple of weeks lest they bloom to the size of his fists if he continues to let the boy do whatever he wanted with them.

The man continues scanning the store from top to bottom, particularly eyeballing the red Spider Lilies on display with wide unblinking eyes as if they were large venomous snakes.

Ah, Reigen thinks as the man enters deeper into the shop skittishly, one of those.

Reigen packs up swiftly and hands the customer his receipt. “Good luck, sir.” He says as a parting, and the man shoots him an unsure but hopeful little smile before nodding his thanks and leaving the shop with his bouquet of purple hyacinths and pink geraniums.

By then, the other man has disappeared into the depths of the shop and Reigen comes around the counter to dutifully rescue him.

Reigen finds him scrutinizing his dwindling bucket of tulips when he rounds a corner. “Can I help you, sir?”

The man startles, shoulders scrunching up to his ears as he fumbles with the large umbrella he held tightly between his hands. He doesn't look up, eyes not straying from the batch of tulips he was studying. “Y-Yes, thank you.” He stutters, putting much effort into lowering his shoulders but the grip he maintains on his umbrella does not loosen. Reigen worries he might break it in half if he doesn’t let up soon. “I’m- afraid I’m a bit… out of my element.”

“That’s alright," Reigen says because it really is. "Most of the people who wander up here always look a little lost and I have no clue why.”

The man unfurls a bit more at that, slowly straightening from the slight hunch he has before turning sideways to address Reigen fully. He opens his mouth, umbrella held to his chest like a shield, when his face freezes, like he just remembered that he left the stove on and it’s been hours since he left the house, only that he’s staring at Reigen and that’s… that’s a bit unsettling.

Reigen just frowns up at him and resists the urge to reach a hand up to his own face. Did he have spring onion stuck to his teeth again?

“Oh,” the man finally breathes. Shoulders relaxing further until he has unfurled himself fully.  The grip he has on his umbrella visibly loosens until he transfers the hold to one hand and finally lowers it to his side.

“Sir?”

“Oh,” the man says again and Reigen thinks he might not be aware that he’s doing it because he’s looking at Reigen like how one might when they see a winning lottery ticket that isn’t theirs. Like you’re happy someone had it but kinda bummed and wistful that it isn’t yours.

Reigen would know.

He can feel the sweat beading on his forehead. “I- uh, How can I help you, sir?”

The man blinks, likes he’s remembering where he is and almost curls into himself again. His eyes slide from side to side before he composes himself, closing his eyes and visibly breathing in and out before he jolts upright so suddenly Reigen almost reels back in shock.

The man puffs his chest up, with his hands on his hips in a poor emulation of the power-pose Reigen sees half the businessmen he knows pull when they’re about to bullshit their way out of a deal or a presentation. "Right," the man says to the air right above Reigen's head, "I need… I NEED FLOWERS!"

And Reigen, Reigen is absolutely enthralled by this man that he forgets this part of the script. “Well, then you've come to the right place, my friend! Today, we have an extra special promotion for the Summer Season! We’ve got an assortment of courses you can avail from catered specifically for your summertime needs! ‘A Course’ allows you to pick from an assorted species of flowers from this aisle coupled with a free floriology consultation from yours truly! B Course-”

"Okay," he says instead, slowly, trying to smother the fond smirk that threatens to split his face in half. "What kind of flowers?"

The man blinks, puzzled, glancing down at Reigen’s expectant face before deflating like a balloon. “I don’t… really know what to get.”

“That’s fine.” Reigen says and the man perks up again. “What’s the occasion? Anniversary? Birthday? A date?”

The man blinks rapidly, reeling from the rapid fire questions before waving a hand in front of his face. “No. No. I’m not- I’m not getting them f- for me. I’m getting them for President.”

Reigen is sure he hears the squealing of car wheels in his head and then a loud crash before his jaw comically drops into a small dumbfounded ‘o’ that the man follows with his eyes.

Wow, they sure aim high these days.

“I’m- I’m getting them for President-“ he man continues. “I’m getting flowers for President because he wants to give them to his wife.”

Reigen closes his mouth and immediately adopts a practiced pokerface because that- there’s a funny feeling in his chest. Like he can breathe deeper now. Like he could breathe deeper now.

“They’re a gift!” The man continues, a small smile dangling meekly on his lips. “A gift for his wife. Something that’ll last in her office. I’m just getting them for him. As- As an errand!”

He turns the full power of that small smile to Reigen, a piece of thick dark curly hair breaking away from the haphazard mess on top of his head to curl right next to a thick dark eyebrow. “Can you help me?”

Ah, shit.

“ABSOLUTELY!” Reigen yells, so unnecessarily loud that the man jumps back a step. Reigen hopes he takes his outburst for rather passionate and enthusiastic yelling. “You’ve come to the right place, my friend!”

His customer brightens. “Really? I would expect nothing less for President!”

“I know just the thing, don’t worry.” Reigen says, and hopes the wobbly smile he gives is convincing enough before he turns on his heel to stalk back to the shop’s supply room. “I was thinking a smattering of pink camellias, white carnations, maybe some calla lilies and a handful of red daisies. Do you have a vase to put these guys in?”

He hears the man scramble behind him in his haste to follow Reigen’s retreat to the backroom. “I can get one in the shop next door.”

Reigen shakes his head. “No need, we have vases here.” He rummages around the backroom before reappearing with a small artfully crafted vase in his hands. Reigen frowns down at it. “I’m afraid you’ll have to wait. I can give you the shop’s phone number so you can call in beforehand and not have to wait here for your order to be ready should you find yourself in need of our services again. You can just come in and collect it.”

“I’m terribly sorry for the disruption of your business activities.” The man replies, worrying his bottom lip as he turns to follow Reigen out the back of the shop through a narrow pair of wooden French doors to an open circular lot where more  flowers, rows upon rows of colorful, beautiful flowers were stacked, enabling them to bask under the warm mid-morning sunlight. Reigen inhales before wandering off to where he remembers the row of carnations are and he squats down to pluck a few white ones from the pile.

“No really. It’s fine.” Reigen calls out to where the man hovers by the doors. “You can take a seat right there while I get these ready. It will only take a few minutes.” Reigen points to the mint green couch by the counter where the man dutifully sits, not unlike an obedient puppy. Reigen then straightens up and rounds a corner for camellias and daisies.

“I can properly entertain myself for a few minutes; you don’t have to worry about me!” The man yells out, his voice carrying out nicely outside to where Reigen vanishes into the depths of the garden.

When he comes back he retrieves a pair of clippers and a dark plastic bag from the drawer beneath the counter and lowers his bundle of flowers carefully on the dark wood and stuffs the vase with floral foam, making sure it was suitably soaked to sustain the flowers for a few days. He starts clipping flower stems into varying heights, allowing the familiar actions to center him again. He arranges them into the vase while throwing the stems into a dark garbage bag. While he works, the man watches in silence. He snips and trims and after a few minutes his arrangement is complete.

The man stands and walks over, examining the arrangement in awe. “I’m sure she’ll like this very much. They’re very pretty.” He says carefully, like he expects the ensemble to crumble if he spoke too harshly.

“Thank you.” Reigen smiles, and because Reigen is Reigen he says: “That’ll be 2300 yen.”

“Does that include the cost for the vase?” The man inquires, eyes widening marginally in shock, before reaching behind him for his wallet.

“The vase is on me.”

The man blinks bemused eyes back at him. “I didn’t know flowers were so expensive.”

“They usually aren’t. But camellias and calla lilies aren’t supposed to be in season.”

“Oh,” the man blinks. He looks up like he’s about to ask a question but stops himself and just settles for a wistful, “I see”.

Reigen quickly rings up the order. He hands him his change and receipt as the man collects the flowers into his arms.

“Thank you for this.” He says as he shuffles in place and Reigen grins back at him.

It is only after the man is gone for 10 minutes that Reigen realizes he left without the promised number of the flower shop.

It is also another 10 minutes after that does Mob arrive at the shop to witness the rather unusual sight of Reigen staring blankly at a wall.

“Master?”

Reigen, to his credit, does not startle. “Huh? Oh, Mob. You’re in early today.”

“Hm.” He hums distractedly, already gravitating to the batch of ice cream chrysanthemums at one corner of the shop. “Didn’t we have a client today?”

Reigen stops pretending he is wiping down his work counter when he's just resorted to staring at it in lieu of the wall. “What client?”

“Hanako-san.” Mob says, cupping one closed bud in his hand. “The one with a spirit constantly visiting her dreams and giving her nightmares.”

“Ah! Right, that was today. Let me close the shop then. Give me 15 minutes and then we’ll be off.”

Mob nods and straightens, releasing a fully blossomed purple-pink chrysanthemum from his hands.

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) my ultimate goal here is to make the sappiest and cheesiest cornfest there is this side of the mp100 fandom eyyy lmao bec fluff!! fluff is always good am i right or am i fuckin right

[redwylde]

Tagged by: Nobody, I stole this. Sheeh~ Name: Samantha. Nickname: Oh boy, here we go. Sam, Sammi(hATE), Samsam, Storm, 'Mantha (haven't been called that in years), FD, Fruits, Salsa(an autocorrect that stuck), Samatsu. Gender: Female (Cis) Star Sign: Sagittarius Height: 5′6/7???? Sexual Orientation: Apothi-Asexual (sex-repulsed) Hogwarts House: Ravenclaw Favorite Color: I ADORE pretty much every colour but I associate autumn colours with myself though. Orange is me. Favorite Animal: OH BOY. Foxes, horses, every dog, big cats, dragons, the Loch Ness Monster, bats, bears, sea slugs, birds, hedgehogs, fish - everything. All animals are good. Time Right Now: 11:07 AM Average Hours of Sleep: Lmao what Cat or Dog Person: DOG! Favorite Fictional Character: Jesus Christ, for quickness let's just go with Karamatsu this week. Number of Blankets I Sleep With: Just one. A thick duvet. Favorite Singers/Bands: Crap, ehhhh... I have such a mixed music taste that I rarely listen to more than 2 from one artist. Idk man, I'm more into game/film soundtrack and international language songs. Dream Trip: Japan or to visit and swim in an ocean reef. Dream Job: Illustrator. Whether it's graphic novels, concept art, character art, posters or design, I just want my art to be out there. I want to put ideas in people's heads, inspire them, I want my art to matter. I want it to be the thing I leave behind when I'm long gone. HOWEVER, I would also really love a serious job working in linguistics. Foreign languages are amazing and beautiful and to work using them would be wonderful. I currently speak and write Spanish at a higher level, basic af Swedish and I'm self-teaching Japanese through different media, language apps and the internet. When You Created This Blog: Early 2014. Current Number of Followers: 840!! I'm so happy! What Do You Post: This is a personal misc pile of whatever I find funny, cool, interesting or relevant whenever I can find it. Sometimes art, most times my latest fandom obsession, inspirational quotes, nature, animals, memes, you got it. My blog isn't themed because it's run entirely on my mood and if anything, I just hope to share and create something that'll get someone laughing or smiling. I really appreciate my followers. To keep myself in check to ensure I can be someone they enjoy following keeps me motivated, as weird as it sounds. When Did This Blog Reach Its Peak: When I got into Parappa I formed most of the mutual friendships I still have today. The bulk of my followers came from Sonic fans and Parappa fans but I THINK the peak happened when I started posting OsoSan, and with that I got more involved with my blog and the Tumblr population. The amazing thing is, coincidently, a lot of Oso fans I know were those Parappa fans lmao What Made You Decide to Get a Tumblr: Legit, I wanted somewhere to preserve and hoard posts from the AwkwardSonicPhotos tumblr page xD It all began with Sonic. Why Did You Choose Your URL: In a way, I wanted to be recognisable/individual. I wanted my own trademark on the internet so I thought of a name that sort of reflected who I was. The Dragon part reflected my love for dragons, how they were one of my identifier creatures, how I am connected to fire, my personality in some ways (sharp-tongued, a hoarder, lover of fantasy and magic, sometimes stoic, a little proud etc) and the Fruit part was an addition to that. Fruit is citrusy, zesty, happy, colourful, innocent and fun, and that's sort of how I want to be. I like my usernames to mean something. I tag: @baronxvi @jamminb3ars @toadettegirl @megapostsoflastminuteart @tdm1 @asianlyobsessed @valerianvogue @agenderexorcist @kingofshells @the-avatar you weirdos :D

[frandrawsalot]

Let me tell you about Dan and Phil in kpop fashion (part 2)

Part 1