#I apologize for any misspellings

[grimms-gone]

Polyamory marrage

(loa art rq)

As soon as I saw this request I knew what I had to do cause honestly there the definition of polyamory plus bitsy and also fuck you jean Paul I’m not drawing a rooster

[tenchikotheartist]

Frick it, we ball

KISMET HEADCANNONS for some future fan stuff I wanna make... Goes with this post kinda

Under a cut because it's LONG (the fixation has been REAL)

Gen

They band was formed shortly after the events of Trolls 1. It's the only way they make sense in my mind's timeline.

Branch was trying to get more involved with Troll village without relying on Poppy to connect him with people. He formed his own group of friends, and they became Kismet after realizing how much they enjoyed harmonizing/performing together.

These guys give me frat boy energy for some reason. They just collectively become more chaotic when they're around each other. Yes, even Branch. He and Hype play hot potato with the braincell because otherwise, nothing would get done in this group.

As they got to know one another, teasing one another became their primary love language. Lots of jabs and quips will fly among them when they're together, but they each know it's all in good fun.

Branch

Branch kept his involvement in the band a secret because, well...y'know. He has complicated history with being in a boyband, so he wanted to explore his feelings about Kismet without being bombarded with input from people outside the group.

He's fond of his friends and genuinely enjoys being a part of the band though! He just wants to be sure he's a part of this boy band because he's happy being with them and not because he's trying to recapture something he'd lost 20 years ago.

At first, the others were (understandably) hurt by Branch's desire to keep his place in the band a secret, but after he explained his reasons, they were willing to support him.

They were absolutely thrilled when he finally becomes open about the band though!

During the secrecy period, when he performs in Pop Village, he hides his identity behind a disguise that somehow works (Branch, every time it works: "wtf????"), and he goes by a stage name.

Hype

Officially the group leader, but he's more of a mediator than anything. He relies on the rest of the group to give their input for any big band decisions, but he coordinates band meetings, schedules gigs, and works out compromises if there's any group conflicts.

He and Branch had been childhood friends before The Incident(s) estranged them. Back in the Troll Tree, they'd been neighbors whose parents (Branch's grandma; Hype's mom) set up on frequent playdates, so they'd been really close.

They reconnected after the events of movie 1, Hype introduced Branch to Trickee and later Boom. Trickee brought in Ablaze and the rest was history.

Hype is a social butterly but he's otherwise one of the more calm personalities in the group. He feeds off of other people's energy and is a bit of a people-pleaser. Luckily, he's pretty good at finding the right crowd to run with, otherwise he'd probably land in so much trouble.

Boom

Hype's cousin, and a big party person! Before the band took off, he DJ'd at a party venue in Pop Village. That same place was also where Kismet got their first gig!

He loves loud music and flashy parties where he can shine on the dance floor and make memories people he may only know for a night.

Peak ADHD Energy™. He's a chatterbox. He has no volume control. He tunnel visions so hard, he becomes that B99 headphones meme. The man has cool guy syndrome, no doubt about it!

For the creation of the Band earliest albums, Boom took charge as the producer. He loves messing with music, mixing and remixing sounds on his free time and experimenting with the genre.

Trickee

A thrill-seeking menace to society. He's adventurous and loves taking huge risks for the adrenaline rush. He's the type of guy who would go down a waterfall in a barrel or ski down a dangerous mountain just to see if he survives it.

Everyone in the band is in agreement about protecting Trickee from his own shenanigans. They are 70% of his self-preservation senses.

He also loves a party scene and can often be found with Boom leading the charge towards any good time.

You know that sense of dread before performing in front of a crowd? The way your belly flips and your heart races and you're sure you're shaking hard enough for everyone to see? Trickee lives for that shit when he's in the band. The jitters can get to him, for sure, but afterwards, the man is LIVING from coming out alive on the other side, and he's sharing that thrill with everyone else in the band!

Ablaze

A Rock Troll who has lived among the Pop Trolls since he was a teenager. He stumbled across them while looking for a place to belong, and despite what he was raised to believe about Pop Trolls, he came to love their warmth and friendliness. So he moved in and let everyone assume he was just an odd-looking Pop Troll.

He an Trickee are housemates (podmates?)--not for romantic reasons but because they're longtime friends. When Trickee moved out of his family's home, Ablaze invited him over, and they liked the living arrangement enough to keep it permanent.

At first, Ablaze isn't open about his identity as a Rock Troll, but as he grew closer with the other members of Kismet, he came out to them. By the events of Trolls 2, he's open about being a Rock Troll.

Ablaze's personality sits somewhere in the realm of both chaotic and laid back. On the outside, he's usually pretty chill, but if Boom or Trickee have trouble afoot, Ablaze is usually there egging them on in the background, much to Branch's dismay.

He becomes extremely energetic when he's performing. The more exciting the song, the more vibrant he becomes! The energy is one of the reasons he loves pop music so much, but he can also get hyped from performing rock music. He gets kinda intense though lmao.

The first time the rest of Kismet sees him jamming to rock, they're like "OH. He's definitely a rock troll O_O" They support their rock-n-roll brethren 🤟😔

He has a special interest in fire, particularly fireworks. Back in Pop Village, he even made a business of it, making small rockets, sparklers, and other celebratory items for all your Pop party needs.

Anyway that's all the headcannon stuff I'll share for now. Hope y'all liked reading xD I'm really hoping my attention span will stick around long enough for me to share more in the future, because this fixation has been A Time™/pos

[immagrosscandy]

i'm scrolling through my old art and i got the feelings 😭

i can't believe how far i've come in terms of artstyle and drawing and painting and making content- like I start reading my own stuff and i'm like "aw yeah it's all coming together" "i peaked here for sure this is so good"

and now here i am studying goddamn ANIMATION. I HAVE A STOPMOTION CLASS. GOD DIGGITY DAMN.

i think that posting stuff here really helped me with my confidence. and that people were giving me positive feedback, and really liked the things i did!? that's awesome i feel so proud of myself!

like it was the first time i'e interacted with a fandom ever in my life. like i entered tumblr at the age of what, 17? and i got to learn lots of amazing things, i got to interact with the lgbt community for the first time, too, and learned lots of cool stuff about others... and maybe about myself as well

(i'm still unsure, but i'm figuring myself out 😅)

most importantly, i got the chance to meet some amazing people on the journey! with some of them i still interact with, and some other don't, but i still had lots of fun and created some fun memories i still think to this day.

there were some bad moments, of course, i still remember that time i got told off about not drawing an afro and a hijab correctly, i've never drawn them before so, of course i don't. but hey, i'm glad it kind of happened since it made me persevere and learn some more

so yeah! i want to think positively about my first time in a fandom ever, i learned a lot, yet i think i haven't learned enough, so let's keep going! now i'm deep into ace attorney but i still like this stupid hp mobile game (i haven't finished year 7 and THERE'S MORE THERE’S A YEAR 8 WHY?! LET MC REST) so when i got some spare time i'll drop new content :D

(I haven't even talked about my MCs lore it's been 4 YEARS)

so now i'm gonna do homework bye! :D

[raynavan]

heavy spoilers for chapter 23 of Always by your side by @ingo-ingoing-ingone!! this chapter was so fantastic i. didnt have words for it. ended up doing 6 (nearly 7) drawings for it instead. i think this is my record- it took me roughly 7 hours. a fair warning! this is both art and a comment to the fic in one. so its rather long!

ok i had an Unreasonable amount of fun doing the background on this one. ended up looking up a lot of the celestial bodies mentioned in the fic, man are they cool! it was implied that Emmet didn't really have a body so! stars instead. the colors were fun- i dont often let myself just. color like this haha! this one was... reall amazing. a fantastic opener! i immediately latched onto the visuals and painted a picture in my mind. it was just so... astronomical?

i actually struggled with how i was going to position these two for a while. at first it was just them coloring in a clearing- then i made them watching pokemon, and then. this! idk- there just something sweet in how Ingo turns around to look at Emmet and... lighting was funky for this one- how a forest shades the things beneath it will always hold a special place in my heart. these two interacting is always so wonderful to read. the gentle ribbing and teasing and... just them chilling and talking was so nice. the fact that it was dragons was even better! dragons are the best. i felt a very sweet and gentle moment needed an equally sweet and gentle drawing. if i could, i might have gone for line less on Ingo and Emmet here as well.

right- this was the last one i did. i think its the only one that i didn't get specifically from what was written. i just... wanted to give Emmet cuddles alright? /lh i had another sketch exploring exactly what Emmet might look, but i think ill revisit that when i... haven't been drawing for 7 hours straight hgfireohgope. the one in this is more simplified. the horror of having your face show one emotion- not even the one your most known for... your voice is toneless and the only was you can show even a fraction of what you feel is by copying what you (supposedly) dead brother used to do. there is a quiet horror in that- and yet Emmet still goes on. he cant feel texture and yet... he deserves many nice things.

this one!!! was originally going to be an Entire piece with a more "realistic" drawing of Ingo sitting behind a fire just like this. when i sketched this out (in the middle of reading it) that was the plan. Jedi saved me by making Emmet draw it like this. you saved me probably an hour ghirepoghpeirh. i... still might draw it how i wanted at some point. also the lighting was added last minute! i thought it would look... more messy with the light of the fire shining on it. i think it looks nice. the scene was sweet and, like Emmet mentioned he did, i put emphasis (or uh... thicker more defined lines) around peoples faces to better define their happiness. it made me happy to read them being happy and then draw them being happy <3

them!!!!!! i do not think it is a secret at All how much i love this au. i was More than happy to draw them again. and!!! being happy!!! perfect. i remembered this was a dream, and decided to blur the background quite a bit of this one- lopsided like its not really being thought about. adored this one. them!! teasing each other!! just!! going through a day!! perfect. amazing. it was really fun the way the small details of their routine was captured. from Ingo just. turning to goop so he doesn't have to pick up his clothes to Emmet just. accepting everything that happened from the mental connection to the shared feelings.

DRAMATIC FORESHORTENING!!!! i almost wanted to play it up More but then i might lose Ingo's expression. the background for this was fun to do- emphasis! strong colors!! looks like something broke. like something was torn away. this whole bit is just. exactly what Emmet fears and its just. ough. Ingo would never do this- we know this, Emmet knows this two- he knows how ridiculous Ingo was being here. and then the climax with Emmet just... falling off... amazing. Ingo's horrified expression is what caught my attention here, though i had a few more ideas depicting Ingo leaning over Emmet. i figured a dramatic drawing here would fit.

so! there ya go. i had. so much fun doing this and! thank you so much for writing this and sharing with us Jedi. if you keep this up, ill just have to keep making more drawings!! i don't think words are enough- not even sure if these can properly express how i felt reading it all (i actual had to get up and pace around bc i got so excited) but! i think that your art inspired my own art is a very beautiful thing.

lets all keep making art with one another forever.

[theunkn0wn-0]

The Gift of Immortality DRAGON BALL STORY: Insert Reader

GENDER-NEUTRAL READER ✕ DRAGON BALL CHARACTERS

╰➤ ⌈ 𝑰𝑵𝑭𝑶𝑹𝑴𝑨𝑻𝑰𝑶𝑵… ⌋ ╰┈┈➤ This is a FIRST PERSON POV story for the reader, Y/N, M/C. ╰┈┈➤ Instead of (Y/N), I use [First Name] for your name. ╰┈┈➤ Enjoy the story, have fun.

PREVIOUS CHAPTER: 002 | 𝑩𝑬𝑻𝑹𝑨𝒀𝑨𝑳���� 𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑾𝑨𝑲𝑬𝑵𝑰𝑵𝑮 FIRST CHAPTER: 𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑳𝑶𝑮𝑼𝑬 — 𝑩𝑰𝑹𝑻𝑯 | 1

WARNINGS: Mentions of SWEARING!!!

003 | Fate's Gamble

❝Faith is a gamble, and against the odds, I'll bet on hope every time.❞

•◉◓☆◓◉•

In the suffocating silence, with only the looming presence of Junior at my back. It took every ounce of willpower to break free from the paralysis of fear and turn on my heel, determined to escape the suffocating weight of his gaze. My path was abruptly blocked by Junior. I refused to meet his eyes, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of my fear. His voice, deep and rough-hewn, resonated through the building.

"Where do you think you're going?" His words cut through the silence like a knife, dripping with amusement. I clenched my jaw, refusing to dignify his question with a response; I remained silent, my lips pressed into a thin line of defiance against his taunts, but he persisted.

"Are you planning to run?" His voice danced with a twisted sense of pleasure, laced with bitterness, relishing in my discomfort. "I know how much you value these fragile humans. It won't be long before I snuff out their pathetic lives, for your sake. Or..." His voice trailed off; I met his gaze, a flicker of dread igniting within me. And then, the final blow, the revelation that sent a chill down my spine.

"Would you like me to reveal your secret to the world?"

My heart is pounding with a mixture of fear and fury. "You wouldn't dare," I retorted, my voice barely above a whisper, as I dared him to cross that line. Junior's smirk widened, a grotesque display of his power and arrogance.

"Oh, but I will," he ridiculed, a reminder of the chains that bound me to him, forged in the fires of past traumas and shared histories; he may be King Piccolo's son, but he was still him. I stood my ground, refusing to back down and let him see the cracks in my facade.

"Get to the point," I demanded. "What are you even here for, and what do you want from me?" His response was simple. "Revenge," he declared, his words dripping with harshness.

"But there's more. Son Goku is an obstacle in my path, and you... you are simply collateral damage. And perhaps a bit of sport. What's more entertaining than watching your enemies fall at your feet?"

His black eyes bore into mine; I listened, my brow furrowing in contemplation, as he outlined his reasons. As Junior mentioned Goku, a spark of intrigue ignited within me. If Goku stood in his way, then perhaps he was the key to defeating this tyrant permanently.

I could use that to my advantage.

I could glean valuable insight into his strengths and weaknesses. It was a risky gambit, but one—I was willing to take for my survival. I kept my expression neutral, refusing to betray any hint of amusement.

"I see you're still the same King Piccolo the last time we met," I spoke, my voice steady despite the turmoil brewing within me. "Still chasing after the same old dreams of world domination?"

"I am the reincarnation of him, of course, I'm him. And this time, you or that bastard Goku and his allies won't stop me." His reply dripped with arrogance; each word was a reminder of his insatiable thirst for power.

Reincarnation? Is... King Piccolo dead?

The revelation of his reincarnation sent a jolt of disbelief through me, quickly overshadowed by the grim realization of the threat he posed. If anything, Junior would be much stronger than the old demon himself centuries ago. But I couldn't dwell on the implications as Junior's presence here, in this tournament, indicated a more profound purpose. I probed, my tone measured.

"You're here to assess the fighters, aren't you? To see if they are a threat or not. Correct?"

A brief twitch of irritation crossed Junior's features, confirming my suspicions. But he quickly regained his demeanor, his tone laced with thinly veiled disdain. "You're smart enough to figure that out, always been quick on the uptake, for a mere human. But don't think for a moment that you can fool me."

I squared my shoulders. "So, how do you intend to defeat me then? You know well enough how difficult it is for me to stay down..."

My words were a challenge, a subtle ploy to glean information from him. I needed to know his strategy, to understand his next move, even if it meant playing into his ego. Junior maintained his smug demeanor, a smirk playing at his lips as he let out a derisive snort.

"As if I'd divulge my plans to you," he scoffed, his arrogance palpable.

"Unless, of course, you have no plan at all," I countered, hoping to exploit his overconfidence. But Junior remained resolute, refusing to yield to my manipulation, unlike King Piccolo, who had fallen into that tactic.

"Don't try to play games with me. Let's not forget, traitor or not, I own you. You're my weapon I have created to be."

Suppressing the rising ripple of emotion, I maintained my calm facade, pushing back against his words that struck a nerve; I swallowed hard, forcing the lump in my throat down. It fueled my determination to stand my ground.

"Very well," I replied coolly. "I'll take a stroll if you don't mind. Just exploring the surroundings, nothing more."

Junior's smirk faltered, replaced by a frown as he crossed his arms. "Is that so? I don't believe you. I'll keep watch. So you won't pull any tricks," he warned, stepping aside to let me pass. I hesitated, wary of the potential trap, but the need for space outweighed my caution. With a silent prayer for luck, I strode past him.

I wanted to be alone and think.

The sun enveloped me like a comforting embrace with its warmness as I emerged into the open air. The gentle breeze carried with it the faint scent of blooming flowers. I allowed myself to meander through the festival grounds, taking in the vibrant sights and sounds.

Laughter and chatter mingled with the melodic strains of music with the tantalizing aroma of street food. Yet, I couldn't shake the feeling of Junior's watchful gaze burning into my back. Paranoia gnawed at the edges of my mind, urging me to remain vigilant.

Think, [First Name].

My thoughts raced, a whirlwind of doubt and uncertainty swirling within me. Goku, Junior's supposed enemy, offered hope, a potential pawn in my desperate game of survival. My mind raced with possibilities.

What if my plan backfired? What if I somehow ended in the finals? What if I can't find anyone to match Junior's strength?

I weighed the risks and consequences, grappling with the uncertainty of what lay ahead. The mere thought of facing Junior that he may have found a way to defeat me filled me with a primal fear, a gnawing dread that threatened to consume me.

I wrestled with the dilemma, torn between the desire for self-preservation and the fear of facing Junior, not knowing what he planned to end me. As I settled my options, I couldn't afford to make a wrong move.

To kill Junior would be to condemn myself to a life of infamy, branded a murderer by society and begin hunted down by authorities and the issue with the government along BioThera Corporation.

To emerge victorious in the tournament would only invite unwanted attention, drawing the government's watch ever closer.

And to feign defeat, to hold back in the face of Junior's onslaught—no doubt he would kill me for fun—would risk exposing the truth of my immortality, branding me a monster in the eyes of the world.

There has to be a way. Something, anything!

I knew I couldn't afford to let my emotions cloud my judgment. I needed clarity. I passed by food stalls, the laughter of children ringing in my ears, each moment a fleeting distraction from the weight of my burdens. I forced myself to let go of my worries if only for a moment, to bask in the simple joys of the present.

But fate, it seemed, had other plans in store for me.

As I turned a corner, my path collided with that of a familiar face. The woman from the Preliminary Rounds, her black hair cascading in a neat ponytail, and her vibrant blue cheongsam. Our eyes met, a silent exchange of recognition.

Before I could utter an apology, her voice sliced through the air, sharp and accusatory, laced with pent-up anger. "It's you! You," she exclaimed, her finger jabbing in my direction with pointed accusation. My brow furrowed in confusion as she unleashed her frustration upon me; I cocked my head, struggling to comprehend the source of her ire.

"Me?"

"Why are you here? Shouldn't you be preparing to face Goku instead of wandering around like an idiot? I should have been the one facing him, not you!" She spat, her words dripping with resentment.

Ah, so that was it.

It was evident the woman harbored a grudge against Goku, and our encounter in the Preliminary Rounds had only fueled her ire. I sighed inwardly as I gently deflected her pointed finger, attempting to diffuse the escalating confrontation.

"And what of it, ma'am? I'm just trying to clear my head before the match," I spoke bluntly, but my words only seemed to stoke the flames of her anger, igniting a fierce blaze in her eyes, yet a glimmer of vulnerability shone through.

"Do you have any idea how long I've waited for this moment? I just want to make him pay after what he did to me!" she yelled, her voice cracking with emotion and her fists clenched at her sides.

"Revenge, is it?" I replied, my words tinged with bitter understanding. Her expression softened briefly, a flicker of vulnerability crossing her features.

"I just want to knock some sense into him! After everything he's done to me, after the promise he made... He didn't even recognize me when he saw me. I just want to make him see, to make him understand the pain he's caused."

Her words struck a chord deep within me, stirring memories buried beneath the weight of my struggles. Promises. The word echoed in the recesses of my mind, dredging up memories of vows made and broken, of obligations unfulfilled. As she poured out her anguish, I couldn't help but wonder if she, like me, sought solace in the echoes of past grievances.

The longing for closure, for retribution, resonated within her words. But I pushed aside the swell of emotions, adopting a facade of indifference to shield myself from my emotions and feelings raging within. With a dismissive scoff, I attempted to offer solace in my detached manner.

"Look, I get where you're coming from, but this isn't my issue. Holding onto that anger won't do you any favors and will only consume you. Dwelling on the past won't change a thing. You have to straighten up, take a deep breath, and clear that head of yours."

My words came out cool and detached, a stark reflection of the emotional walls I had erected over years of solitude. It had been ages since I engaged in anything resembling a normal conversation, yet here I was, dispensing advice like some reluctant sage.

"If you're hell-bent on confronting Goku, then talk to him. Maybe there's a reason he didn't recognize you. Not everyone has a memory like an elephant, you know. People forget stuff all the time; it's human nature. Promises are often broken, whether intentionally or not. Sometimes shit happens, people forget, or they mess up. It's life."

Despite my usual aloof or stoic demeanor, I couldn't help but intervene, offering what morsels of advice I could muster.

"Just... try to think things through before you go charging in. A brawl ain't always the answer. I want you to take a step back, assess the situation, and approach him like a rational human being. Have a damn conversation."

The woman bristled at my blunt words, her fiery glare softened, replaced by a flicker of pain and understanding at my harsh words. She stumbled over her response, caught between indignation and begrudging acceptance of the truth.

But to my surprise, she took a deep breath, her shoulders sagging as she exhaled, a newfound calm settling over her. Her voice, once sharp with fury, softened into something more measured, tinged with uncertainty.

"Yeah, you're... right," she finally conceded. "Maybe talking to Goku wouldn't be such a bad idea."

As she spoke, a small sense of relief washed over me. Maybe she'd heed my advice and avoid unnecessary trouble. With a nod of approval, I sidestepped her, eager to distance myself from her turmoil and collect my thoughts.

But before I could make my escape, a tap on my shoulder brought me to a halt. I turned to find the woman, her expression softened, guilt evident in her eyes.

"Hey, I'm sorry for dragging you into my mess. But at least stick around while I apologize!"

Her tone held a hint of irritation, though she quickly composed herself. I fought the urge to roll my eyes, silently accepting her apology. "No worries," I muttered, my tone gruff and steady but not unkind.

"Thanks for the advice. I'm Chi-chi, by the way. And you?"

I made a mental note of her name, though I doubted I'd remember it for long. After all, I was just a passing stranger in her world. When she asked for my name in return, I hesitated for a moment.

"Just... [First Name]."

I replied, a tinge of resignation coloring my words. It had been a long time since anyone had bothered to ask my name, and I knew it was unlikely she would remember it for long. After all this, the tournament, I would retreat to the solitude of my hidden base in the woods, fading into obscurity once more.

For me, anonymity was a comfort, a shield against the world; I wanted to be forgotten, to be left alone, so no one would even hurt me or even find me. No longer being hunted down, maybe if I lived in a world without fear, I would no longer hear those voices in my mind.

Although, that was a mere fantasy. I had to accept my harsh reality, whether I like it or not.

"Well, I should probably head out now," I muttered as I edged away; she didn't pursue me, which was a relief. After all, who in their right mind would chase down a stranger? But her brief distraction did wonders for easing the weight on my mind.

With renewed determination, I set about formulating a plan, a contingency for the worst-case scenario if things took a turn for the worse with Junior. As I mulled over options, a memory sparked to life in the pits of my mind.

The Containment Wave!

But as quickly as joy bloomed, a shadow of doubt crept in. I lacked the necessary components for the technique, and my recollection of it was hazy at best. I had no vessel for containment and no ink for the marking.

Still, I refused to be deterred.

With Junior's watchful gaze lingering on me, I scanned the festival grounds, searching for a solution, drifting towards a nearby food stand where colorful drinks were displayed.

Perhaps a bottle could serve as the vessel.

I mused to myself, my mind racing with possibilities. It was a gamble, but one worth taking. But I couldn't afford to raise Junior's suspicions. So, I decided to indulge my craving for food as well, opting for a bite to eat. It was a calculated move, just buying a snack and drink; it was nothing more.

As I approached the bustling food stands, a figure caught my eye. An average-height man that was quite overweight with his black hair disheveled cascading around his face, stood in line. His attire was a sleeveless yukata adorned with black stripes, a black obi, and black wristbands.

“Darn it…” His grumble cut through the chatter of the crowd; his voice was rough, scratchy, and tinged with a tone of frustration and fatigue. His hands fumbled in his pockets, searching for a few measly money to pay for his meal. But it seemed luck was not on his side today.

I paid him little heed as I focused on the dishes displayed before me. It had been too long since I indulged in a proper meal, my diet restricted to the bare essentials of sustenance.

"Damn... I don't think I have any money left." His words were a testament to his hunger and desperation. Despite my reserved demeanor, a pang of empathy stirred within me. Beneath the veneer of detachment, I was still human.

Stepping forward, I placed my order, selecting a dish that promised to delight my senses along with a drink that was suitable to be the vessel and another named Takoyaki. With a nod to the worker, I paid for the order; it was a small gesture.

Perhaps, in this sea of competition and rivalry, I could afford to extend a helping hand to remind myself of the humanity that is hanging by a thread within me. I stepped aside, waiting patiently for the meal to be prepared.

When my meal was ready, I accepted it with gratitude, exchanging a nod of thanks with the worker before turning to face the man beside me. I offered him a container of his dish, my voice betraying a hint of monotony despite my best efforts.

"Here, I thought you might enjoy this dish. I recommend it."

He looked up, surprised, painting his chubby features. His beady, black eyes widened with curiosity and skepticism as he accepted the offering with cautious gratitude. "Why... Why did you give this to me?" His voice, rough around the edges, betrayed his confusion as he searched for an explanation behind my gesture.

"Just wanted to help. No need for anything in return. Enjoy the dish," I replied with a calm demeanor; my words tinged with sincerity. He then took the dish of Takoyaki out of its container as he examined the food; his curiosity was piqued.

It was a dish made by deep-frying dough-like slices of octopus into small balls, which were then sprinkled with a sweet and savory sauce. The savory aroma teased his senses, drawing him in. With a hesitant glance in my direction, he took the first bite, savoring the burst of flavors that danced upon his palate.

I watched silently, a faint smile tugging at the corners of my lips behind my facemask as he savored the dish. With a small, imperceptible sigh, I turned to leave, knowing he enjoyed the food I had ordered for him. As I walked away, the weight of his gaze lingered on my back, but I decided to ignore it.

Making my way behind a nearby building, I retrieved the food container from my bag; my fingers lifted the lid of the food container. I removed my facemask, relishing the cool caress of the breeze against my skin as the captivating aroma of the dish enveloped me.

It was a moment of simple pleasure taking the first bite; I savored the familiar taste, finding solace in the familiar flavors. But my moment of comfort was short-lived, shattered by the booming announcement that echoed across the festival grounds.

“Tien emerges victorious and advances to the semi-finals! Next up, we have an exciting match between Goku, who nearly won the last championship, and a mysterious warrior known only as Anonymous!”

So much for enjoying my meal.

I hastily swallowed the last bite of my meal, the urgency of the upcoming match propelling me forward, overriding my desire for relaxation. With a quick adjustment of my face mask and hood, I hurried towards the arena, my steps quickening with each passing moment.

Junior's presence weighed heavily on my mind as I strategized. Holding back my true strength would be crucial, keeping Junior in the dark about my full potential while measuring Goku's abilities. It was a delicate balance, a tightrope walk between restraint and assertion. 

As I strode into the auditorium, anticipation rippled through my veins, mixing with the steady thrum of being agitated. I felt the weight of the moment bearing down upon me and my resolve unwavering in the face of uncertainty of the outcome of this match would be.

I squared my shoulders, my chin held high, and my footsteps echoed against the polished floor as I made my way to the entrance. The sun greeted me with its warm embrace as I stepped into the arena, the sky a vast expanse of azure splendor.

The atmosphere crackled with excitement, a symphony of eager murmurs, roars, and restless shuffling from the audience. As I entered the ring, the ground beneath my feet felt solid and sure, anchoring me to the present moment.

My gaze swept over the audience, a sea of expectant faces blurred by the haze of trepidation that clouded my vision. Despite the multitude of eyes fixed upon me, I found reassurance no cameras were recording this live on TV.

Across the expanse of the arena, Goku stood, his gaze locked with mine, his eyes shimmered with purity and excitement, a stark contrast to the storm raging within my own heart. The traditional tenor drums, their rhythmic beats echoing through the arena, added to the tension that coiled in the pit of my stomach. Each thump resonated with the pounding of my heart.

In that silent exchange, I glimpsed the raw power of his spirit. The referee's voice announced the commencement of the match, a gong chimed, its metallic echoed, signaling us to begin. As the crowd erupted into a frenzy of excitement, Goku and I stood there, our minds focused and our bodies primed for action.

With every fiber of my being, I remained alert, searching for any sign of weakness in my opponent's stance. But Goku kept his defenses tight. For moments that stretched into eternity, we remained locked in a silent standoff, each waiting for the other to make the first move.

During our silent standoff, I felt Junior's presence looming in the shadows, a silent observer of our impending clash, feeling the weight of Junior and Goku's gaze, I couldn't afford to hesitate. I needed to determine Goku's power and find a weakness to exploit.

I had to treat this battle fairly as much as I could.

Let’s get this over with.

•◉◒☆◒◉•

Finished: April 03, 2024

PREVIOUS CHAPTER: 002 | 𝑩𝑬𝑻𝑹𝑨𝒀𝑨𝑳𝑺 𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑾𝑨𝑲𝑬𝑵𝑰𝑵𝑮 NEXT CHAPTER: 004 | 𝑬𝑷𝑰𝑷𝑯𝑨𝑵𝒀

LINK TO THE BOOK [WATTPAD]: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐢𝐟𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐈𝐦𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 — 𝙳𝚛𝚊𝚐𝚘𝚗 𝙱𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚂𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢 If you're interested in stories like these, here is my 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

[supersuperdupersecretnerd]

I may have some concepts of a H*zbin H*tel rewrite (nothing really set in stone, just some ideas). Let me know what you think!

(Context/Trigger Warning; Mentions of animal death, decay, discrimination against sex workers, religious trauma, abuse, and cannibalism/gore. Depictions of eye injury and of a character in lingerie)

You may have to zoom in to be able to read (unsure posting from mobile can't see how it looks on desktop rn). Let me know if any clarifications are needed!

Some related & unrelated notes

-Jay Jay gets attacked cause the angels that go down during exterminations don't really pay too close attention to who's who. It's just a mad rush of perma-killing and adrenaline, no time to think.

-I'm considering making the reason why everything in the show is so fucked be from the Holy Trinity just randomly vanished one day; no one knows how or why. Heaven blamed Hell for it (they weren't involved) and that in part is why the exterminations happen; although without guidance, things start to fall apart and heaven gets corrupted (not sure if I'm going with this yet or not, just an idea).

-V didn't know angelic weapons could hurt angels because she was just a human that got into heaven, not created an angel.

-Kee Kee (the cat) just ceases to exist based upon the concept that animals were made for humans and cannot go into heaven (recall first hearing about it as a kid from Old Yeller)

-Yeah Lucifer does not really care about Charlie. He just doesn't want the public to know that he made her because he is embarrassed he couldn't outdo God's creations. (although maybe he used the knowledge from this to help Mammon create those Fiz bots) (oh also- all of the seven deadly sins are complete assholes, through and through) (Dunno what to do with Lilith yet)

-Charlie wants to help sinners sometime after letting V stay with her; she grew to care for her, and through this care & love, she starts to sympathize with sinners in general and wants to make things better for them (mainly for V tho). However, even with the portion Jay Jay's soul Charlie's sense of morality is a little fucked... (Basically she believes in the eye for an eye, or an eye for a limb/maybe even two limbs/ if the situation is severe enough).

- V supports Charlie's plan and helps her out whenever she can (and with better understanding morality); she does have a life outside of the hotel though (she works as a waitress at a restaurant, she also does babysitting for hell born children on the side/not uncommon for her to bring the kids she's watching back to the hotel)

- Charlie tried to work at a fast food joint, but got hired due to unnerving the customers (she's still upset by that). She eventually got a job as an art model at some art place.

- Jay Jay grows a soft spot for Angel Dust after overhearing how he found and adopted Nugget. Thinks their a cool dude, the cat body often comes over to her purring.

- Also I do want to have a scene where Valentino comes over, Jay Jay overhears the abuse (verbal & emotional in this instance) behind closed doors and just absolutely starts wrecking his shit. Like, the floor just collapses right underneath where Valentino was, when he gets out parts of the ceiling starts falling on top of him, when he runs out shit from the wall starts getting tossed towards him, and the cat body just jumps up and starts scratching the hell out of his face. (Also Jay Jay feels the pain of the house coming undone, she does it anyways cause fuck Val) (Angel is terrified after that, just stares at the scene before going to lock himself in his room for awhile)

-The hotel is covered in Jay Jay's eyes, however she closes them whenever people walk into rooms outta respect and privacy. The house also can't hear (can feel tho), only the cat body can hear. Also due to sharing apart of her soul with Charlie, the two can talk to each other telepathically.

-I'm removing Rosie having the 'energy of a Jewish mother', I'm not making the leader of a cannibal town into a Jewish caricature fuck that. (Dunno what type of personality I want her to have, but I'm definitely removing the motherly relationship she has with Charlie) (Also in Cannibal town they just take turns eating each other; they eat everything but the head, and from that head the eaten person will slowly grow back; Cannibal town is a pay to get in and experience sorta deal, it has both permanent residents and those who just paid for a day; Rosie is making bank off this place)

[inkyucu]

~ On a scale from one to ten my friend you're ✨fucked✨~

[spyderschaos]

Just finished chap 2 of gold-silk: origins but I want my friend to read it before I post it incase smth doesn’t make sense and to spell check and shit but it’s almost 11pm so I have to wait till tomorrow

[nemesis-21]

Laws of Attraction was quite the journey.

I can't remember the last time I got so attached to this many side characters from one show. (Like can I please be besties with Grandma, Maya, Rose, and Nawin?) And despite knowing Tin and Charn get married before starting the series, I cried my eyes out still. (My only complaint is that it would have been nice to get more substance with Thee and Tai's relationship development.)

I was surprised too how this series was able to have me laughing, shocked, giggling and kicking my feet, crying, cringing, and confused the entire time.

It was camp. It was delightful. And revenge is sweet justice was served.

10/10 Highly recommend

[leenesomewhatdraws]

Novembmas, Day 16: Trade / Receiding Hairline !

Granitas are the best, what can I say <3

Transcription: (1) [E] "Ooh can I have some of your granita ?" / (2) [I] "Sure, try it"

(3) [E] "Thanks, here, you can have some of my ice cream in exchange"

(The stuff under their eyes is tear tracks lol)

Transcription:

First image: (After being back from getting eeby-deebied) (E) "Lmaoo you're bald" / [arrow pointing Ingo moving his right hand to touch his hair] (E) "!"

Second image: (E) "..." / (E) "Nooooo-"

"Receiding hairline" idea explanation under the cut

Sooo, I assume that lots of people will get the sibling culture I'm referencing in the "Receiding hairline" submission but anyway- just to be safe- :

Inspired by something I did to my youngest sister when I first got acne. At the time she made comments about it that could have brought down people sensible about it.

I don't remember being hurt by them, mostly because she was young, but I didn't want her to say the same to our other siblings (who would start to have acne soon) and have them take it more to heart.

So, I'd touch my forehead/face, then touch hers before saying "Okay, now you'll also get it" as a way to say,, like,,, "Sure but it's not something you can control on the spot, and since you have to go through it, it's kinder not to make remarks/jokes like that"

That ans I also wanted to pretend like I cursed her lol

I dunno honestly 😅 but anywau, basically : Ingo cursed Emmet with the baldness inevitability curse(tm) lol

[dedummekrakene]

welp. bruins game was something! next game! my arbitrary decision is im supporting the stars! pls treat me nicely stars lb

[conscriptur]

@hvbris said "there's nothing you can do for me now."

He despised the fact the girl was right. What was there for Peeta to do as the girl was being sent off to fight to the death just as he did before the whole rebellion. It angered the blond that this new government still agreed with decision to create a new games that in the time of discussing it with the other Victors and Coin herself, he disagreed with the idea. His vote of no did not stand a chance against those that approved—Haymitch and Katniss, who inevitably had more sway than he could ever had based solely on the fact he was trapped in the Capitol whilst they spent their time working hand in hand with the rebels.

It may have been unfair, but the announcement after the induction of the new President had been enough for Peeta to throw distasteful words at the two other District Twelve victors. If they had chosen to turn down the idea of the Freedom Games, as they put it, then maybe it would have fallen just as Alma Coin did on the day of assassination. Matters only became worse with the decision to make the previous Victors that were left mentors for these new Games. It was just like the Hunger Games, they were now to be controlled into reliving everything through mentorship and watching the Capitol children murder each other. Peeta was sick at the thought.

The weeks leading up to the Reaping, Peeta had made himself sick nearly every day and outbursts in his home had become even more frequent. It was as if the sliver of peace that he had found after his hijacking had flown away like the dying wisps of smoke from a fire. There was no aid or comfort in Katniss or Haymitch, he blamed them whole-heartedly, far more than the other Victors. Did this all not begin to save the children forced to be slaughtered like pigs?

Due to the mentors now being for the Capitol children, Victors travelled to the remnants of the once pristene and beautiful place to sit as the names were called out and matched with a Victor accordingly. Peeta’s face had paled at the name called in accordance with his name. Cassia Snow! Not only had he spent months with the girl in the Snow mansion but he was sure she would be the number one target for all the other kids when they decided they were no longer scared and could fight. As it was, her family caused this all to happen.

Peeta was slow to meet with his tribute terrorized by the idea of sitting down with Cassia and prepare her for—for what? Death? Just as Haymitch had done for him. Though, he finally sat with her in this quieted room, alone from the other tributes and Victors. A good thing too as he would have had his hands around Katniss’s neck, the itch clawing at him as certain aspects of the room brought him back to his captivity. He had been well immersed in his dread until the silence between them was cut. And the initial anger of her words being correct was a throb against his temple.

Cassia’s words hit him with the pressure of guilt. She had to have know she was the desirable one to fall victim to death first. What her grandfather did to him, unreedemable, and yet he was tugged by something inside him to attempt to save her. “I can help get you out alive.” Peeta offered before further thinking of the difficulty of it. If sponsors were to be part of the Freedom Games like the games before, he could not picture her receiving any due to the extended hatred. “I’ll do what I can to give you an advantage in there.”

[ladyshandioftheendless]

Aw shit! Here we go again! I absolutely HAD to write a story like this one for Jamie too! I swear these two are growing on me like fungus! Enjoy!

Jamie x your World Tour OC (any gender/sexuality you like~)

You're looking forward to training with Luke tomorrow. Maybe he'll kiss you again. Maybe you can even shower together. That thought excites you beyond belief. So much so that you don't even notice that you've caught the attention of some...unsavory individuals. One person alone walking the dangerous streets of China Town by themselves? At night? Easy target. They stay close behind until they find the perfect place to ambush you. As they surround you, you have to keep yourself from laughing. They look absolutely ridiculous. Just a bunch of punks with boxes on their heads. But when they had numbers..like they did now, they could easily overpower one person. Thanks to your training you could take on one or two..maybe three. Definitely not twenty. They close in, laughing like idiots. Thinking they're going to get a quick score. That's what they think.

"Really don't think I'm likin' these odds!"

You freeze. So does everyone else.

Who the hell said that?

You see nothing but a blur of yellow streak past you. You're struck speechless as you watch this guy start laying out the box heads. Try as they might to attack him, none of them can touch him. He's swift. Light on his feet. He dances around them, effortlessly dodging their attacks. You stifle a laugh when you see his long braid smack a few of his attackers in their boxy faces. He has the moves of a break dancer, easily dropping onto his side and spinning around, his legs knocking anyone who tries to get close to him off their feet and sending them crashing to the ground. Clearly they've had enough humiliation. They scramble off the ground and run away. He laughs. "So much for the mighty Canary Crate Gang! Can't even take out one guy!"

You can't help but snort. Maybe one regular guy. This guy was on a whole other level. He was...very impressive, as was that crop top of his showing off those very impressive abs. You shake your head. Why is your mind wandering like this? He straightens himself and takes a drink from the gourd tied to his waist. "Damn losers. You okay?"

"Huh..?" You then realize that he's talking to you. "Oh..yes, I'm fine."

"Shaken up, huh? Not surprised. Those bozos are good at that."

"I appreciate what you did. I could never take on that many."

"You a fighter?"

"I mean..I just started training a few days ago. I know some basics..that's about it."

"So you haven't discovered your own style yet. don't you worry..I'm sure a cutie like you can come up with one in no time~"

You haven't been confident in your own abilities lately, so his compliment is nice to hear. "T-thank you~"

"In the meantime, you can count on me, Jamie Siu, for protection~"

Now that he's right next to you, you can finally get a good look at him. He has a very handsome face. Beautiful, dark eyes, with red lined lids. A confident smile. Confidence that was well founded from what you just witnessed. He's obviously studying you as much as you're studying him. "Hm..with someone as adorable as you, I'm gonna have my work cut out for me~"

"Sounds like you think I'm not gonna be an easy job."

He shrugs. "Doesn't bother me. I'm not afraid of hard work~"

His wink makes your heart flutter.

"Why don't I start off with bein' your escort home?"

"You'd really do that? What a gentleman~"

"Nobody knows this town better than me, plus with me around..no attacks~"

That did sound like a major plus, and having a guide as good looking as Jamie didn't seem like a bad thing either. Living in China Town would be a lot more exciting with him around~

~END~

[draculas-husband]

16. Do they enjoy dancing? / Do they have dances they can teach each other? 38. Thoughts on each other’s friends? 58. Do they have similar taste in movies? / Live theatre? Music? 77. Do either of them have secrets even the other doesn’t know?

They do indeed enjoy dancing. Although it takes them a while before they even try. Edmont is the one who asks Drac if he knows how to dance and if Drac would like him to teach him any Ishgardian dances. Naturally Drac accepts and it ends up being a rather intimate experience for them. Eventually they get rather good at it too. Sure they're not Morticia and Gomez good but that is an impossible standard haha. At least the passion is there! 😂💖

Firmien appears to be Edmont's closest friend and Drac absolutely adores him. He has been serving the Fortemps for 50+ years and Drac can't help but ask him constantly about what Edmont was like growing up. And considering how happy Drac makes Edmont, Firmien in turn cannot help but share all sorts of information about the former count. Drac of course also just loves talking to Firmien in general and gets to know him pretty quickly. They sometimes hang out together, the three of them when time permits. Although he is still the steward and mainly serves Artoirel at this point. Edmont and Drac will gladly have him along for lunch or a walk and the like whenever Firmien gets time off.

As for Edmont's thoughts on Drac's friends... I mean the scions he have met he enjoyed meeting. They're all a rather colorful bunch. And Tataru has come to mean a lot to him just as she does to Drac. Tataru is after all Drac's best friend. While Drac was on the first he asked her to deliver updates and letters to the manor for him and she was happy to do so. While there, she offered to come over to chat with Edmont should he feel the need and want to. Mentioning that she too understands what it is like to miss Drac even if their relationship is of a different nature. He accepted her offer and they had a couple of conversations over tea. One time they even had a proper drink when Drac had shared in a letter that he was unsure if he'd make it back alive... So again he has come to value his own friendship with her.

There are also the many friends that Drac has made along the way. Edmont can attest to; that there has never been a dull moment with Drac around. Overall he likes the people Drac befriends and is happy Drac has them. Even though he may not always have the energy to spend time with them himself. He is very happy they make Drac happy. And that is what truly matters to him in the end.

This is a very interesting question. (Are movies even a thing?) Drac hasn't experienced live theatre for the longest time before he meets Edmont. But after the events of heavensward I'd like to think they start seeing plays together. Drac is willing to watch whatever as long as he gets to spend time with Edmont. He usually ends up focusing on the costumes even if the play itself bores him. And if they are not to his liking either he can always just look at his beloved instead. So technically there is always something nice to look at. But genuinely Drac does enjoy theater and is open to most kinds of stories. He is a drama kid after all haha. I'd like to think his favorite play is one that some ishgardian kids set up in the firmament based on the events described in Edmont's book "Heavensward". In fact he loves it so much that helps make their costumes and set more accurate and even gets to play himself during one of their performances. Naturally the kids and Edmont adores it. Afterwards they surprise the kids with cookies and signed copies of the book. (Sorry got off topic there!) I would like to think that Edmont prefers the kids play over some fancy grandeur performance that was mainly set up for the nobility. In part because he associates it with a must rather than a want.

As for music I think Edmont surprises Drac with his taste. While he enjoys a good classic piano piece as much as the next noble he also used to be bit more "wild" in his youth. So he can definitely enjoy something more on the metal or rock side of things. A good knightly workout cannot be done to the sound of classic piano music after all.

Drac on the other hand listens to everything. And enjoys anything with a good enough melody. But naturally he has his favorites and Edmont doesn't mind them even though they're not always his cup of tea.

Drac tries as much as possible to be an open book with Edmont. But even he is uncomfortable with the amount of death his actions has caused and does avoid talking about it more than he probably should. He also hasn't told Edmont about Emet yet. In fact he hasn't told Edmont many details about the first at all. He intends to though. He isn't super comfortable sharing information about things that could be traced back to Edmont and potentially cause him harm so there are definitely things Drac keeps a secret for such reasons. He is however open about the fact that, that is the case and that should he feel safe enough to share it, he will. Edmont isn't actively keeping any secrets from Drac but there are things he too doesn't like like to talk about. But he will answer anything truthfully if Drac asks.

They do have a long conversation about both their previous experiences with relationships and Drac makes himself very clear about how he feels about loyalty and how important it is to him. Edmont knows full well that there is nowhere he could hide from the scions or any of Drac's friends if he actively tried to hurt Drac. Thancred made that very clear to the former count once he found out that him and Drac were an item. Which is in fact a secret Edmont is keeping from Drac. Not that he ever intends to hurt Drac anyway but ya know. (I must however be clear that Thancred does not have anything against Edmont overall. I think loyalty is just something he feels very strongly about too and would hate for one of his best friends to get hurt.)

[theunkn0wn-0]

The Gift of Immortality DRAGON BALL STORY: Insert Reader

GENDER-NEUTRAL READER ✕ DRAGON BALL CHARACTERS

╰➤ ⌈ 𝑰𝑵𝑭𝑶𝑹𝑴𝑨𝑻𝑰𝑶𝑵… ⌋ ╰┈┈➤ This is a FIRST PERSON POV story for the reader, Y/N, M/C. ╰┈┈➤ Instead of (Y/N), I use [First Name] for your name. ╰┈┈➤ Enjoy the story, have fun.

PREVIOUS CHAPTER: 006 | 𝑹𝑬𝑪𝑲𝑶𝑵𝑰𝑵𝑮 FIRST CHAPTER: 𝑷𝒓𝒐𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒖𝒆 — 𝑩𝑰𝑹𝑻𝑯 | 1

TRIGGER WARNINGS: GRAPHIC DESCRIPTION OF GORE, BLOOD, VIOLENCE, and SCARIFICATION!!! Mentions of MURDER and SWEARING!!!

007 | Unfinished Business

❝Revenge is a kind of wild justice.❞

•◉◓☆◓◉•

        Junior's teeth were bared, his face twisted in a malevolent grin. With a sudden twist of his wrist, my head jerked to the side, and pain shot through my neck with an audible crack, momentarily blacking out my senses. My body, limp and unresisting, was hurled like a projectile towards the wall behind him. The momentum sent me reeling through the flimsy wall, smashing into the cold, unforgiving concrete, creating a dent.

"Ack!" The sound escaped my lips involuntarily, each breath a labor against the agony rippling from my shattered windpipe. As consciousness returned in fragments, I struggled against the shockwaves coursing through me, forcing me to stay awake. Strands of hair tumbled loose from my hood, bloodshot eyes wide from the lack of oxygen.

I slumped to the floor, the echo of ragged breathing mingling with the taste of blood in my mouth, coughing out as my windpipe healed. Through blurred vision, I looked up, Junior loomed over me, a haunting reminder of King Piccolo's dominance — not merely in height, but in the crushing weight of suffering endured.

"Is that all you've got left, [First Name]? Watching your life seep away, knowing your miserable fate? We haven't even started to fight."

Junior's voice dripped with disdain, the sneer etched into his features. Summoning every ounce of will, I propped myself up on an elbow with a ragged huff as my body began to heal, listening to each word that left his green lips.

"Why..." I uttered, my voice barely above a whisper, weakened as my windpipe gradually mended. "Why do you have to be here, out of all places?"

It was a foolish question, but at that moment, distress and anger took control of me. I couldn't help but question fate, the universe, or even a higher being. Were they mocking me, or did they have a twisted sense of humor to bring me such misfortune in my eternal fucking life?

Junior's eyes narrowed at my rhetorical question, and he let out a harsh, dry laugh. "Didn't I tell you before? But I'll remind you again, [First Name]," he spat my name with disdain, "my father gave me a mission, a purpose. However," Junior paused, his killer's grin returning, "I want you to remember that you caused this. And I'm going to drag out your demise to the very end. You will scream. You will bleed. And I will revel in it."

Gritting my teeth; I met his gaze defiantly. Memories of King Piccolo flooded back, reminding me of the times I had failed his missions and the severe punishments that followed. He had excelled at making me regret my immortality. Junior's sadistic demeanor mirrored his King Piccolo's cruelty in ways that cut deep.

"You're just like your father," I scoffed, the word 'father' tasting bitter on my tongue. Although he was an incarnation of King Piccolo, Junior wasn't the same demon I had met before. He was worse, more unstable.

"And you're just like you were, stubborn, aren't you, [First Name]?" Junior matched my defiance with his own, his teeth gleaming as he spoke my name. "But you cannot expect this to end the same way. Emotions blinded my father, but I am not. This time, I'll make sure you're properly punished. I had my fun here; I'll get our revenge."

I swallowed hard, the knot in my throat tightening. "I should have known you're smart enough to figure out how to get rid of me," I said, my emotions roiling. I knew what he was planning. He was going to make me suffer before trapping me by using the Evil Containment Wave.

"Oh, I'm smart enough." He said in a mocking tone, his wicked grin never wavering. "Smart enough to anticipate your every move and futile attempts to escape. Like that bottle you got 'em from the food stance for my entrapment? I'm aware, [First Name], and I'm prepared. While your mind is quick, mine is faster, and my foresight is sharper."

That son of a bastard! If he hadn't shown his abilities, I would have been in the same situation as Hero.

Each word he spoke amplified my paranoia, my blood pounding in my veins, my heart hammering against my chest. He could hear it, surely—the panic, the fear, every emotion I tried to bury. The demon's confidence seemed unshakable, despite the clear knowledge that even death wouldn't stop me.

Only eternal confinement could.

"You see, while your loyalty may have swayed my father, I am immune to such flattery. You will not worm your way out of this. You will not survive this." He said as Junior leaned slightly towards me.

"You're about to face hell. And I'm going to be your personal tour guide."

With his final words, a surge of rage propelled me forward, but the booming voice of the announcer cut through the tension like a sharp blade. "Ladies and gentlemen! The final round of the tournament is about to begin! Who will become the next world champion: Anonymous or Junior? Will the two fighters step into the arena!"

The sudden announcement halted my advance, but my eyes betrayed my continued fury. The urge to murder Junior was overpowering, and only the circumstances held me back for the moment. As the loudspeakers heralded our showdown, Junior and I shared an unspoken understanding that the championship title held little significance, it was clear neither of us cared about the tournament.

The distant cheer of the crowd outside was a stark contrast to the tension and true intentions. I glanced towards the exit, envisioning the oblivious spectators eagerly anticipating a display of martial arts battle, unaware of the bloodthirsty grudge match about to unfold before their eyes.

"Well," Junior's dark chuckle pierced the air, drawing my narrowed gaze back to him, a smirk of amusement dancing across his features, "it seems the timing couldn't be more perfect. Let's give 'em a show."

With that, he spun on his heel and marched towards the exit, knowing I had little choice but to follow. Internally, I sighed, emotions roiling within me, already losing all rational thought. He knew I cared about people, about innocence—something King Piccolo had always assumed, leading to my betrayal.

But I betrayed him for my own selfish reasons. I could use it to my advantage, making him underestimate me further. In that moment of desperate survival; I didn't truly care about others. I acknowledged a grim truth: perhaps I was more callous than I dared to admit.

But none of it mattered now.

With my wounds healed and the blood that had trickled down my neck dried, I moved forward purposefully, each step echoing through the cavernous hall with calculated resolve. I adjusted my hood and secured my face mask, steeling myself for what lay ahead as I trailed behind Junior. Stepping outside, the horizon bathed us in a warm wash of golden-orange sunlight, and a brief serenity before nightfall descended upon us.

"Here are the combatants now!!! Who will emerge victorious!?"

I glanced at Junior entering the arena, then darted to the other fighters. Some met my gaze, while others focused on their thoughts. My attention lingered on an old man among them, his appearance unfamiliar, but I quickly dismissed the person, refocusing on Junior. He stood waiting, his eyes filled with murderous intent.

I walked confidently towards the center, keeping a calculated distance from Junior. Standing firm, I adjusted my stance, my muscles coiling with tension. The announcer's voice boomed through the microphone, amplifying the already charged atmosphere.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the moment you've all been waiting for! The final match of the 23rd World Martial Arts Tournament!"

The crowd began chanting, their voices merging into a deafening roar. But I barely registered any of it — all my focus was on Junior. His eyes met mine with unwavering intensity as he discarded his mantle, the heavy fabric hitting the ground with a definitive thud.

Weighted clothing...

I thought, recalling Goku's similar tactic, shedding weight to unleash his full power. The realization that Junior had trained for this moment only heightened my anxiety and wrath. My hands trembled slightly, but I clenched into fists tightly, adrenaline already coursing through my veins.

Fear mingled with resolve, every nerve was electrified, and my senses heightened to the nuances of our impending clash. The announcer's voice, filled with excitement, echoed through the arena, "And without further delay, get ready!"

The rhythmic beats of traditional tenor drums reverberated, adding to the mounting tension. Their tempo quickened, mirroring the accelerated pace of my heart. "Let the final match of the tournament..." The sound of the gong reverberated like a shot across the arena.

"Begin!"

My mind slipped back into a familiar state I had tried for so long to suppress — a dark place filled with violence and aggression, the desperation of survival. Junior launched himself at me, ki blazing from his fingertips, the air crackling with energy as he barreled toward me and shot out a ki blast.

The speed of his assault was staggering, a blur of motion intended to leave me bewildered and reeling. Or even taking in the attack as Junior had always believed I would save and protect innocent people.

But he was mistaken.

I instinctively dodged to the side, narrowly avoiding his initial blast as it streaked past dangerously close, crackling with destructive power. Junior's expression shifted from predatory zeal to disappointment, his attack wasted as it hurtled toward the crowd.

A sneer tugged at his lips as he realized I had no compunction about risking the spectators' lives as he regained his composure quickly. It only fueled his desire for revenge, anger, and the thirst for blood. The spectators, initially in awe, now began to realize the gravity of the situation. Taken aback by the sudden change of events, they scrambled to escape the incoming blast.

As I found myself lunging forward. The deafening eruption rang in my ears, the ground trembled as the explosion from Junior's missed attack echoed, the force of the shockwave nearly pushing me forward. Junior and I moved simultaneously, a blur of motion as we closed the distance for brutal hand-to-hand combat.

The world narrowed to the space between us, every sense heightened. I could hear the rustle of fabric, the crunch of our feet against the ground, the sharp intake of breath. His reflexes were swift, and he initiated the first strike without hesitation. His powerful leg cocked back, ready to deliver a vicious kick aimed at my torso. Ki channeled into that single leg, the blow-packed devastating force as he swung his leg.

Instinctively, I evaded the attack. Junior's disappointment turned into a snarl of aggression. His eyes flashed, and his hand darted forward again, razor-sharp nails extended to inflict a deep cut on my visage.

Quick reflexes and expert flexibility allowed me to dodge his claws by arching my back. The close shave left me breathless, the tension in the air almost palpable. The burgeoning ki between us grew while the sound of the explosion faded. The smell of blood, sweat, burning concrete and flesh assaulted our nostrils.

The screams of the crowd, the distant cries for help, and the panicked scramble for safety added to the symphony of violence playing out in the arena.

Junior's fists were a flurry of speed and strength, each strike aimed with precision, attempting to exploit any opening. I counter-attacked with a brutal assault, my strikes fueled by a primal need to prevail against an opponent bent on destruction.

His movements are fluid and aggressive, seething with rage. The air trembled with the sheer impacts, the arena seemingly shaking with each blow. Neither of us held back, both of our attacks fierce and ruthless, each strike designed to tear the other apart.

Our combat intensified, each blow reverberating through the arena. The ground beneath us cracked and trembled, unable to withstand the force of our clash. The air was thick with the smell of ozone and burning debris, every sense overwhelmed by the chaos surrounding us.

His elbow found its mark, crunching into my jaw with a sickening thud. A sharp yelp broke my reserve as my head snapped back from the power behind the blow. The pain sent waves that threatened to distract me; I quickly overcame the haze of discomfort, using it to my advantage to mislead Junior.

Swift as a viper, I wrapped my arms around his muscular arm, my grip tight, and my leg shot forward with a swift swoop. The force of my momentum and grip propelled him into the air and crushed him to the ground's unforgiving surface. The force of the impact left Junior sprawled.

A groan of pain and frustration escaped his lips, and the wind knocked out of him temporarily. Now in a vulnerable position, I did not allow him to get a break. I hurled my left hand towards his neck, aimed at his larynx, my fingers pressed together like a blade.

He recognized the attack at the last second—one he had seen used on King Piccolo. He rolled out of harm's way, narrowly averting the attack. My hand pierced the cement floor, and the pain shot up my arm, the impact leaving a crater that attested to the raw might I had. I yanked my hand back as the adrenaline numbed the dull throb. There was no time for distractions. I whip my head back.

Junior returned to his feet, dusting the concrete remnants from his clothing fabric. The anger in his eyes was evident, but unlike his father, he didn't let it consume him. With a snarl, he launched forward, determination etched on his features. His hand shot out.

Another wave of ki pulsed from his fingertips, forming a crescent-shaped aura that bore down on me. My eyes widened as the realization hit me like a freight train that Junior’s– no, Piccolo– new attack would obliterate whatever it hit.

“Piccolo!”

My voice erupted in a guttural shout of a war cry of a blend of rage and defiance. I used my hands as leverage, pushing off the ground with incredible force, the swirling aura of my ki energy growing more potent as I attempted to sweep Piccolo's leg from beneath him as a last-ditch act to disrupt his move. However, his innate agility proved too much as he easily evaded my strike by launching vertically, safe from harm.

My eyes flickered upward, catching Piccolo hovering mid-air, his hand still poised with a crescent of ki energy. He unleashed the pent-up energy, sending the blast hurtling toward me at an alarming speed. With no time to dodge, I raised my arms protectively, forming a shield of ki energy just moments before the explosion reached me.

The explosion resonated through the stadium like a clap of thunder, shaking and shattering the ground beneath me. The sheer force of the blast sent debris flying in all directions, and the once-proud arena transformed into a chaotic maelstrom of destruction.

I shut my eyes against the blinding light; the heat was overwhelming, even with the protective barrier. The roaring explosion assaulted my ears. The heat trickled through my skin and attire as sweat formed on my forehead; I felt like I was going to melt.

Moments after the explosion had died out, feeling the residual heat from the blast, I lowered and dissipated my ki barriers. Through the cloud of dust and debris, I could make out the silhouette of Piccolo floating above the devastation, untouched by the cataclysmic event.

I scanned around. The arena was unrecognizable, a vast expanse of rubble and shattered ground as a wide crater. The air was thick with the acrid scent of burnt energy, charred material, and flesh mingled with the smoke.

Oh shit. Oh fuck, oh no.

I couldn't sense any life energy in the immediate vicinity. Maybe a few survived. Or so? The consequences of my actions, as well as the destruction wrought in this battle, were stark and undeniable. My eyes were wide, and my teeth gritted together, swallowing the guilt.

My gaze redirected to Piccolo, focusing back on the battle as the dust settled and cleared. Piccolo descended slowly, his gaze locked onto mine, the intensity of his gaze almost physical. He landed with a soft thud, his body coiled with tension, ready to pounce at any moment.

“You’re like a cockroach, always managing to survive,” he remarked, his voice low and menacing. “But this time, there's nowhere to run. No one to aid you. No more tricks.”

His words echoed in the desolate arena, amplifying the cold reality of my situation. The words were a bitter truth, cutting deeper than any physical wound. I couldn't run from him; he would still chase me until the end. I had no allies, no one to help me. Not that I could obtain them anyway.

That fact alone pushed me to my limit of maintaining any rational sense within me.

Without warning, Piccolo lunged at me, his movement a blur of speed and precision. His hand, tipped with razor-sharp nails, slashed downward with lethal intent. In that fraction of a second, time seemed to slow, the world narrowing to the deadly glint of his nails and the fierce determination etched on his face. I braced myself, boosting my energy, the air around me crackling with ki.

I met his attack head-on, my body absorbing the initial cut as the pain was sharp and immediate. I gritted my teeth against the pain, pushing through it. I channeled all my fear, anger, and desperation into a single, powerful punch. My fist connected with Piccolo's abdomen, the impact driving the air from his lungs, causing him to double over and his eyes to water in pain.

But I did not halt there.

A fierce war cry tore from my throat, an unbridled expression of the storm raging within me. My fist drove through his defenses, tearing through flesh and muscle and penetrating deep into his torso. I felt the sickening give of tissue and internal organs before my fist emerged from his back, coated in blood and viscera.

Piccolo's breath hitched, a gasp of ache escaping his lips. His body convulsed, and he jerked his hand back. He tried to push me away with his hands clawing at my arm in a desperate and animalistic ferocity. But I held firm, my eyes blazing with a fierce perseverance mingled with a hint of madness.

Even as his body quivered with the shock of injury, I knew he could regenerate. Yet, the victory of wounding him felt intoxicating, an addictive rush. I wasn’t done yet. Not by a long shot.

“You... think you can... defeat me? End me...?”

Piccolo rasped, each word a struggle, accompanied by a coughing spasm that expelled a spray of blood. He heaved, nauseous from the pain and his insides being torn apart. His nails dug into the skin of my upper arm, a futile attempt to wrench himself free from the agony I inflicted. He wanted to throw up, though kept it together, yet that made it worse.

My body began to mend the gashes that he had inflicted across my shoulder to my torso, restoring blood, tissue, and muscle. The pain ebbed, replaced by a cold clarity; I twisted my arm deeper into his wound in response to his words. Piccolo’s nails bit into my skin, his face twisted, the agony clear on his features as he retched, the act a testament to my brutal assault, and I felt a twisted satisfaction, my lips curling into a sadistic grin.

He gagged, barfing from the pain and the nauseating sensation of my arm inside him. Blood dripped from his mouth, splattering onto the ground, and staining the fabric of my clothing. However, what I didn't expect was Piccolo to vomit up a small bottle. It clattered to the ground, rolling away slightly. My eyes widened in recognition.

Was that...?

Before I could fully grasp the significance of the bottle, Piccolo lashed out. With a sudden, vicious swipe, his nails raked a deep slash across my eyes. My once-[Eye Color] eyes now bore gaping slits that oozed blood, staining my face with crimson streaks as my vision was obscured. A guttural shriek of pain and anger burst from my lips at the savagery of his sudden attack.

Instinctively, my free hand flew to my damaged eyes, desperately trying to alleviate the searing pain. Piccolo took advantage of my disorientation, yanking my arm free from his body with a sickening squelch, the wet slap of blood against the ground echoing in my ears.

My other senses heightened in the absence of sight, every sound and sensation amplified. I was tossed aside like a rag doll, my body skidding across the broken floor. The impact jarred every bone; the brutal collision was an unforgiving slap of reality.

I groaned, the discombobulation rendering me susceptible to further attack. My hands fumbled in the darkness, trying to orient myself, my breath coming in ragged gasps as I fought to regain control. The ground beneath me was rough and cold, the texture abrasive against my skin.

The metallic and salty taste of blood lingered on my tongue, mingling with the acrid scent of sweat and the tang of iron from Piccolo's wound. The cold, hard surface of the crumbled floor pressed against my back.

I could hear Piccolo’s labored breaths, a reminder of his presence. In my blinded state, every subtle sound and shift in the air around me became critical. My ruined eyesight began to heal, but I didn't wait passively. I scrambled, using my elbow for support as my body shifted from prone to a seated position.

I listened intently, sensing his energy and my breathing steadied, the pain receding to a dull throb. I angled my arm, tendrils of energy coiling at my fingertips, my resolve unbroken despite the ache and disarray. The energy within me surged, expanding with a furious intensity; I channeled it into my palm, where heat began to coalesce into a deadly sphere before releasing a blast of devastating power.

The sphere of searing energy erupted, spreading across the ground with unstoppable force. The roar of the explosion reverberated through the air, a deafening sound that seemed to crack the very earth beneath us.

As the echoes of the blast faded, I felt the sting of blood drying in my eyes, blurring my vision further. I hastily wiped at them, wincing at the discomfort. The acrid smell of scorched earth and energy hung heavy in the air, mingling with the scent and taste of my blood that dried up.

Despite the chaos and pain, one question lingered in my mind: Did I get him?

•◉◒☆◒◉•

Finished: August 3, 2024 Published: August 4, 2024

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LINK TO THE BOOK [WATTPAD]: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐢𝐟𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐈𝐦𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 — 𝙳𝚛𝚊𝚐𝚘𝚗 𝙱𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚂𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢 If you're interested in stories like these, here is my 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

[lendmyboyfriendahand]

I have now started watching The Guardian, going into it mostly unspoiled. I mean, I read enough of the IMDB page to figure out which thing called "The Guardian" was the tumblr fave. My thoughts on the first episode below the cut.

I feel so much better about my faceblindness that the shadow guy also mixed up the dead girl and Lie Qian.

Calling it now that Professor Ouyang and his private research company will return as an enemy faction.

Zhoa Yunlan, you are petting your agent. You are stroking the butt of one of your subordinates. Yes, I know he's a cat a the moment and Shen Wei started it, but still. (Hopefully there is some Damn Cat/Zhoa Yunlan petplay fic on AO3? I will check when I am a few more episodes in.)

You know what, I think Guo (Newbie) is going to accidentally join Professor Ouyang's research think tank. And then end up spying on the SID.

Oh no, Shen Wei fell off a roof. How will he survive. Surely this is unrelated to the Black Cloaked Envoy who just showed up. And the fact that Shen Wei has memories from hundreds of years ago, and the Black Cloaked Envoy has been doing this for an unknown long while, must be complete coincidence. (I do like that he gets to cause spooky weather when does his off-screen costume change.)