#Amitie🔆

[ringoando]

welcome!

Hi i’m @ado-renu and this is simply my puyo side account, i’ve had this url for a couple years now so why don’t i just use it haha anyways the tags i’m going to use are down below!, have fun!!

[massivechildtidalwave]

Again for the Skull Danny au

Does Tsuna being adopted mean he gets hugs from his sibling at least weekly ? Maybe Tsuna has his own apartment in Amity because he feels safer there , and without his mother who is willing to use insults when referring to him .

Also it's obvious what Ryohei favorite place is . Because getting both a run and a fight in the same hour ? He would love that extremely much .

But also magine Reborn's face when he meets Tsuna who was raised mainly by Amity Parkers , the kid is ready to throw hands especially with someone who reeks of death in this specific way yet isn't dead as of yet . It smells like a killer . Also Tsuna is probably also liminal as most of Amity is so super strength on the help to beat Reborn .

And while Amity is hiding Danny from the Arco he is definitely helping as much as he can

Danny wasn’t really thinking when he grabbed the Tiny Child and brought them to FrostBite.

Provided that Tsuna hadn’t gained that “seal” at his home, Danny was more than willing to give him back to his parents with an apology note and family Fudge…..

Tsuna had “felt cold constantly since his father and his father’s boss came to visit” Fuck

Danny went to the kids house to try and explain Tsunas stay in the Yetis care as a play date (can’t tell people about Yeti healers without them looking at you sideways) and Nana called her son fucking stupid right in front of Danny…. Danny, the son of geniuses that often neglected him and his sister for their work and was constantly made to feel dumber than he was even if it was unintentional, dislikes the image he sees.

Last he checked the apartment right across from Tucker and Sam’s wasn’t being used by anyone, and with it being Amity Park the prices are dirt cheap too! Not like Tsuna would be the one paying for it but details.

It’s relatively easy to get the kid to stay, and it is both aggravating and rewarding that no one fights the slow removal of personal items from the house and into the new homes.

🔆

Namimori is used to weirdness, it doesn’t mean they throw themselves directly into it. Any contact with Amity Park is slow going, but that’s fine for both groups.

It’s actually Tsuna who introduces Ryohei into the world of Amity Park Fighting.

With an actual support group of older friends, Sam, Tucker and the rest of the group was almost permanently sixteen or seventeen , Tsunas puppy crush on Kiyoko had died out and was instead replaced with a rather weird fascination with her brother. he’d been weirded out a bit by it until he read the packet on Dyling Will Flames given to him by Skull.

The Seal left him freezing to the touch from the inside out, a Sun, generating warmth and energy without pause, would attract his Flames like a lizard to a warm rock. Not Harmonizing, not yet, but closer than normal.

That attraction combined with new Liminal instincts, lead Tsuna to pull Ryohei off his normal running path and into Amity on one forge few afternoons Skull didn’t have an adventure planned for Family Bonding.

needless to say, the with constant noise and fighting and energy zapping movements, Ryohei fit right in with the rest of the Parkers.

Now if only he could find a way to drag Yamamoto into the Park. Takeshi hadn’t seemed to be doing as bright as usual and almost all of Amity was convinced he would fit in better with them then the Sports team he stood with.

🔆

Reborn expected many things going into Namimori. He had not expected the Sky he was called to tutor to be a half feral little shit, with Skull as an older brother figure. This is the closest any of the Arcobaleno have been to making contact with Skull.

Reborn had to watch in a corner as Gokudera and Tsuna worked together to build bombs in the kitchen of his mothers house. The first time he has threatened Tsuna with his gun, he had been defenestrated without a single thought of hesitation.

Reborn had become rightfully cautious of getting within grabbing range of Tsuna since.

[celestialvexation-arch]

✨ | 💘 | 💘 💘 | 💘 | 💘 💘 | 💘 | 🔆           ↳ ship ( the owl house ): amity blight / hunter                  ↳ for @thestrange-princess

[weareteamrocket]

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[eternasci]

ミ☆ ⦙  NORI. ﹙ accursedfortune ﹚

         It’s impossible not to suspect. The transcendence, divine aura, and reluctance to give a true name––––––who could he possibly be if not some sort of god? Unworthiness weighs on Tsurya’s shoulders and curiosity calls him to observe the male’s dainty hand. Would the briefest touch purify and banish his demonic blood? Could one of the heavens accept him then? 

         As he speaks, Tsurya watches, lowering his menu. An inkling of disappointment easing into his eyes. Is it too late to change his mind or is he cursed to hide behind Makoto’s name forever? The fantasy of his real identity spoken from this one’s lips is frightening, in an odd form. He desires it as much as the human body desires air.

          “Lucien.” His accent drips, bangs shifting with a reflective tilt. A fitting similarity to the restaurant. “Preference? …Norinaga is the name I was born with.” A second of silence. “If it counts as a ‘pet name’, my comrades called me Nori. No honorifics necessary.” 

          He’d nearly forgotten, fondness of a far past warming his eyes. “Makoto is inside, dormant, while I serve out my contract. Someone will collect his soul when it’s time for him to reincarnate. As for my presence, well, I am here to right the sins of my past and protect my descendants, Makoto included. I’m trying to preserve his integrity as much as possible, so I would appreciate it if you continued to act like we’re familiar with one another.”

          As the waiter arrives, pen at the ready, Tsurya gives his order and nods toward his ‘date’. “Naturally, you may have what you like. I’ll take care of your bill.”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ 🔆┊      HEARING HIS NAME sung so sweetly summons a smile upon his visage. To think he'd be blessed by dessert so soon! Pearly whites break apart plush lips, rising rosy cheeks squishing sleepy golds between lowering lids. Loving irises manifest the sun, twinkling with a similar gentle warmth, as they gaze upon that familiar face. Though faint disappointment weaves within his companion's mien, extended amity hopes to enrich and energize that weary glance.

Lucien knows not of the conflict stirring in the mind of his host. Never could he anticipate such, either—in a life prior, he'd been placed upon pedestals for his brilliance, but he'd often eagerly step down, wishing to lift another up in his stead. He'd heard tales of their kind butting heads, yet he has come to meet only the most intriguing and soft of demonic souls. Call it what you will—naïveté or wishful thinking—but the angel truly believed in the best of others. This was no different, no matter how this man came to be.

❝ Nori... ❞   He whispers softly, the utterance akin to saccharine caramel seeping slowly, pooling upon one's tongue. As his hands clasp just beneath his chin, tilted ever so slightly to the right, he speaks it once more with a dream-like beam teasing the edges of his mouth.   ❝ I like that. Nori... All right. It is a name I shall say when we've a time more private together. I wish not to ruin what you've made for yourself and Makoto, so I will treasure the moments when I can call you such, and leave things... "as they are" for now. ❞  

So be it. In Makoto's absence, he would assist Tsurya—no, assist Nori—in his place. If what was said is true, then was he not helping him in the long run? Not only that, but... for all intents and purposes, though he wore his newfound humanity like a shawl, this man still harbored a kindness that need not be offered to those he knew little of. For someone of   ( supposedly diabolical )   ilk to take time to feed a stranger, but don the title of "monster" as his holy relatives above would claim... it just didn't feel right.

But it wouldn't be the first time they had lied to him about those of demonic nature.

For a moment, the sun in those eyes grows eclipsed. Pressure threatens the knuckles of still clasped hands, released with a quiet gasp upon the waiter's arrival.   ❝ You are always so kind, ❞   Lucien sighs, separating a forceful grip upon his own hands to tuck a strand of his lengthy hair behind his ear.   ❝ I would like pollo alla parmigiana with pasta and garlic bread, please. ❞   Upon the waiter's absence, he speaks once more.   ❝ If it helps... I think I know how it feels, being... ❞   A pause; his head falls, tresses pouring down his shoulder amidst thought.   ❝ A foreigner of sorts. I hope you have been fairing better than I? ❞  

[massivechildtidalwave]

Skulls escape attempts.

With the new and improved Amity Park safe Danny is now free to do what he wants.

Since their parents are crazy I can totally see Jazz and Tucker working together to get their names changed leading to

🔆 Jazz Nightengale and Danny Nightengale 🔆

however Danny is exploring and when you explore and run the risk of getting your name on the news it should never be your legal name.

they are already making new names, while they are there might as well just make a full new identity to keep him safe. Tucker had already broken into the government files why make him do it again?

you know how Tucker loves puns? Danny is half dead and now that they are a little older the trio have discovered *adult jokes*. By older I mean they are fifteen-sixteen.

boom

Skull DeMort.

it’s beautiful,

Ignore Lancer looking about ready to kill himself in the background.

———————————————————————

When Skull got invited to this Strongest Seven thing he was a little hesitant however after dealing with Vlad for years and getting forcefully cloned, he was pretty sure there wasn’t anything in the meeting that could cause him issues. As long as there was no FrootLoops in the meeting he would be just fine.

Which is of course why there were only Frootloops in the meeting when he stepped in. Fuck Fenton Luck he wasn’t even legally a Fenton anymore.

While he had gotten used to the idea of murder being necessary in some cases due to the GIWs unhinged practices he didn’t particularly like doing it.

His core was protection people! He would do it if he needed to protect others however murdering for the sake of murder doesn’t do it for him and the lady glowing Orange feeling sorry-it-needs-to-happen is acting weird. Hell everyone is acting weird.

Yellow kept trying to shoot him, which normally wouldn’t have been an issue except he was trying to be a normal human without ghostly powers and he couldn’t just turn himself intangible to escape the bullets. He associated the sound of guns with his parents.

Fon had been nice enough to inform him about Flames. He was now slowly experimenting with it in the room he was given. (Not his room, his room was in his haunt at Amity Park, speaking of Amity Park Skull needed to figure out where on earth it was so he could run there after he escapes the mansion)

Miss. Lal kept treating him like a subordinate and while he appreciated the target practice, he did not ask for it. She kind of reminded him of Jazz with the whole ‘I’m going to give you advice you never asked for thing’ the difference was that Jazz was his sister and more focused on the mind.

The Green FrootLoop was like if his parents started following research protocol and with his power being fucking Electric! He was getting Portal PTSD but slightly worse.

The worst thing about them was that they were observant. He couldn’t leave the building and with his core singing the songs of freedom in the wind, it was starting to bug him. His room had no windows after his first escape attempt failed so he couldn’t see the stars, he couldn’t go outside so no stars that way, there was no one to protect and no freedom or adventure for him to find. His core was starting to hurt.

Skull is a Nightingale however, he escaped much worse!

out the windows didn’t work, neither did just walking or running out or ditching during a mission….

hey… didn’t the garage have a lot of spare parts in it? They were probably meant for Verde or someone else to use but Orange said everyone could use anything in the mansions so as long as no one is using it. Couldn’t he take them?

For all their observations the adults only checked his room once or twice. They never looked in his closet…. His entire family was geniuses he could probably make a Fenton Portal there.

Just close the doors and hide the machine if anyone does come looking, they only ever stopped to make sure he was actually in the room when they told him to be. This… this could actually work!

[eternasci]

ミ☆ ⦙  SWEETHEART. ﹙ kamipyre ﹚

Oh thank goodness, he’s not standoffish or mocking or anything of that nature. Looks are deceptive after all and sometimes the most attractive looking individuals also happen to be the worst people Suki has had to deal with. Deal with in terms of haughtiness and condescension. Although she tends to receive more pity stares if anything. She wonders how it must feel to be completely and utterly comfortable in one’s own skin regardless of who is watching.

That being said, the person is quite beautiful. Model gorgeous even with the white ruffles of the dress, the see-thru velvet gloves, and the appendages attached to the back giving him an angelic appearance. And then heels. Wow, Suki couldn’t even imagine being able to pull those off. But it then occurs to her that he’s complimenting her. Her with the visible burn scars. And comparing to flowers she never even knew existed. In comparison to her knowledge of the human body, chemistry, and other gruesome things of that general nature, her knowledge of nature is woefully minimal. She scratches the unburnt side of her face. “I figured warm colors would work best.” With the discolorations, she decides not to tack on at the end.

But then he mentions how the yellow is attention catching and she frowns. The attention is literally the last thing she’s looking for. Cute but invisible- yeah, that’s what she’s going for. “Maybe a more muted color then, huh…” In that case, the white dress might suit her purposes a little better.

She tilts her head. His eyes are light brown…gold in the light? Gold in the light because it is scientifically not possible to naturally have golden eyes. “I…I wish I could do that. But I bet yellow would look really good on you too. White does already- your dress is really pretty! I didn’t know this store let the employees wear their own dresses.”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ 🔆┊      FOR A BEAT, his heart skips, tripped up by such a contemplative gaze. Despite an empyrean appearance, Lucien is not without worldly worries—had his words missed their mark, or had he been caught out amidst white lie? He harbored his fair share of disdain for the act, no matter the necessity, and his brain scrambled quickly to cover, only to relax upon realizing that she was merely ruminating upon his comments. Eclipsing bright, sunny irises with closing lids—an action brought about to obscure the pain of brief anxiety—Lucien offers another beam, albeit entwined with a pang of empathy.

❝ Perhaps it's my bias, ❞   he offers, eyebrows arching downward.   ❝ I look forward to warmth in my life. To the cheer that I can bring others, and the cheer that they bring me. That's the issue with seeking opinions, right? It's coming from someone else's perspective. ❞   And though he had nothing but amity for someone he just met, he could hazard a guess as to how her self-image manifested. Hearing her desire to fade into the background by deluminating her attire... oh, how hard his heart sinks and shatters. 'Twas not his place to push someone into the spotlight should they not desire it, but even he could not ignore the likely cause of her dismay.

Not that he wanted to—a person was not to be divided into parts "good" and "bad", but accepted by their sum. He had a feeling she wished otherwise, though—he could imagine the agony of her mark, both mentally and physically. Normalcy likely felt... falsified, whether she partook in it or others made a blatant attempt to do so. While it manifested only within his mental woes, he could relate with ease. He shook his head briefly, then, realizing the timing, cleared his throat.   ❝ Ah, if you would prefer muted, then we can definitely find you something of that nature. White is always a good shade—it goes well with everything. As does black. ❞  

His smile waxes as quickly as it wans. Yet again, that beat stumbles, butterflies tickling their many feet along the rims of his stomach. Tucking a strand of his hair behind his ear, he glances away.   ❝ Oh—it's... my dress, actually. ❞   How he hated to lie! Speckling truths in... it at least made it less guilt-laden.   ❝ I just got back from... a display. A, uh— ❞   Shit, what else would you call a fashion show?! There's no real way to disguise that. Come on, father would say I could do better than this!   ❝ —The store is contemplating a new line, a... and they were thinking about emulating the style of some model. I was fortunate enough to... nab the original. ❞  

Because he owned it. But you know what? Close enough. However...   ❝ Ah! Were you thinking of getting a dress like this? Sans the wings, of course, you seem not fond of the limelight. Perhaps I could find you a lengthier dress, too, if you don't care for showing skin? ❞  

[eternasci]

ミ☆ ⦙  TSURYA. ﹙ accursedfortune ﹚

          And the accommodation begins, as if fate flipped a switch. Sharing a shifting air of amiability, Tsurya watches this peculiar companion of sorts from his peripheral as they stroll. In truth, it’s difficult not to behold such a presence, from his gleaming dark skin and luminous eyes of gold. He’s too pretty; confusingly, overwhelmingly, and impossibly pretty. Irritation builds in his chest, and he exhales to release it. Better to ignore any curiosity. For all he knows, this is damage control; he’s not here to befriend someone who can send him back to Jigoku with a wave of his adorned hand. 

          Tsurya points to Luce, a high-end Italian restaurant and unconsciously holds the door open, a frustrating result of his gentlemanly upbringing. He follows inside and sits at his usual table farthest from any windows, opening the menu as a distraction, a place for his eyes to fix. “So, as for your earlier question…”

         Hesitation. He’s never allowed anyone to hear his true name. Hues darken, growing vacant. To what degree of honesty should he allow? Should he give in to his deepest longing for acknowledgement, even as he’s stolen someone else’s body and corrupted his soul? Does he deserve to be seen as not Makoto, nor Tsurya, but Norinaga? A broken spirit driven beyond insanity who hides behind a wall of suffering indifference in this new lonely life? Not knowing when to trust, when to give in, when to hold out. Inches from releasing centuries of anger… 

           The menu stands like a book and he hides behind it, fingers gripping the sides. He’s glaring over the top, but it lacks power, intimidation and anything related. “My name is…Tsurya. Please don’t repeat it. At all. Not even once. I’m…” A sigh. “I’m Makoto’s ancestor. I know it may be difficult to believe, but I mean no harm.” 

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ 🔆┊      HE KNOWS NOT of the frustrations born from his proximity, content to sashay at his companion's side. Though curiosity clouds his thoughts, concocting many a theory from possession to amnesia, it disperses in favor of food. A display of such kindness deserves a willing audience—whatever tale to be spun amidst their meal would at least be granted serious consideration. The exhalation is not missed—merely dismissed. Alas, he indeed must know, so this demon shall endure his presence for a while yet.

Come their arrival, his chivalric debonair begets a gracious curtsy in turn. Heels resound along ground as he trails closely behind his company, sitting opposite Tsurya. Gloved digits daintily graze the menu, hovering just over the pamphlet as parted lips hang ajar. A soft murmur of thought escapes him, shoulders sinking. A light shake brings him back from high, his elbow moving to pillar his right arm as palm cradles cheek. He knows what he'll get—a hint of home, a home lost many centuries ago.

Soft is the chirp of awareness that leaves lips lingering agape upon hearing his "date" speak. Gold irises meet red, Lucien tucking the tresses that trailed along his shoulder behind his ear. While prone to repeat a name oh so generously given, his mouth closes, and a simple nod affirms his attentiveness.   ❝ I see, ❞   is all that is bequeathed, a simple contemplative whisper just barely heard under the natural bustling of preoccupied space. For a beat, that is all that is given—nary an inclination of positive   ( or negative )   reception.

But only amity arrives. He does not retract the warmth bestowed before he knew, nor will he after. A hand gently pushes past his pamphlet, lying idly atop the table in Tsurya's direction.   ❝ No, darling. You needn't fear your name's utterance, for I will not do so. Nor must you fret my doubts—I share faint glimmers of a life before this from time to time. Transcending bodies in such a way does not sound, for me, as farfetched as you may think. ❞   Still, the vivid illumination of his eyes is obscured by a pensive close of colored lids.

❝ Well. It is nice to meet you. My apologies for the familiarity, as you were right: I do not know you. And if I am to presume... he will not be returning, I owe you the kindness of getting to. If you would have me. My name, it's... ❞   With mouth quivering, he hesitates, gaze falling left for a moment before returning.   ❝ Mm... I... I would prefer you call me Lucien; though Luci is fine, too. Have you a preference, then, if not the name you've given? I can continue as normal, too. Ah! And... my apologies, pet names frequent my vocabulary. Shall I stop calling you such? ❞