#frozen facemask

[stealingyourbones]

Submitted Prompts #99

Jazz went to Gotham to finish her degree away from her parents, as their obsession with Ghosts started becoming dangerous to everyone. So, of course, she brought Danny with her, so he's also far away from them and the GIW.

Danny held out a whole year without going out on patrol, just establishing his haunt in the new city. Lady Gotham was very happy to be able to show them to their new place, almost giddy that the little King and his Queen Mother have come to live in her beloved city.

Of course, the first time Phantom floats out of his window and into the night, he has a new suit, made of padded black leather, and a fluffy white cape with a hood (imagine the Lightkin Cloak from Destiny2, but snow white, rather than black and grey), along with a facemask engraved with a fanged design. New haunt, new look, and the new look fit right in with the viciousness of Gotham City.

And, as luck would have it, his first Gotham Rogue was Poison Ivy. Thinking back to his fight against Undergrowth, Pantom opened with his ice, forming a double-sided axe to better cleave her vines apart, and locking Ivy herself down with ice.

To further distance himself from his identity as Phantom, in case the GIW somehow became smart at some point, instead of blasting ice like most ghosts fire ectoblasts, Danny asked Pandora for lessons on fighting with weapons, and Frosbite taught his how to channel his element as an aura, or a freezing breath. He even sat down to listen to Nocturne speak as they wove spells and ectoplasm, and the Personification of Dreams softly taught him how to use his powers through objects acting as catalysts, or as manifestations of his will, rather than throwing his affinities around by brute force.

With his new abilities and look, rather than fight like a feral raccoon, Danny took to fighting more like a spellblade, slinging around ice shard and spells to enhance his physical strikes, controlling the pace of a fight to get the upper hand on his enemies.

Suffice to say, Poison Ivy hadn't expected the Avatar of Icy Vengeance to lock her in a pillar of ice up to her neck while her vines withered into frosty sculptures.

Gotham's newest hero got awarded a new name by the news the next day: Ymir, Frozen Progenitor.

Danny thinks it's too pretentious for a random ghost, or random halfa, like him. Joke's on him, the perception of Gotham's people slowly starts empowering him, slowly enough that the only reason he notices his oncoming Ascension to myth as a Protector Spirit is when a terrified kid begs for his help, and he hears them loud and clear out of nowhere.

The Bats are confused by this Entity. Constantine stepped one foot in Gotham, felt it's cleaner air, the sharp bite of ice in his nose and lungs, and the overwhelming pressure of the new Godling training under Gotham herself to control his new powers, and ran out screaming about not getting paid enough to deal with divine beings. Zatanna is trying to contact Ymir to ask them to join the Justice League Dark.

Jason is vibing with the tall redhead Amazon he's met at Babs' library, and her feral little brother who cured his Pit Rage by biting his arm when they first met. One time Jason is in a pinch after a stakeout gone wrong, Bellona (Ancient Roman Goddess of War) takes the fight to his captors to free him, dressed in golden armor and wielding a spear Pandora and Firght Knight made for her. Nocturne and her brother worked together to imbue a spell into her back to give her wings she can use to fly or fight with. The fact it left a badass tattoo on her back, is just another way Jazz rebels against her parents. It also has Jason weak in the knees when he first sees it.

[dxckgrxsonx]

soo… can we get more dickpic storyline?? IM ON MY KNEES BEGGING YOU 🙏🙏🙏😩😩

okay. so this took longer than i wanted. on the upside, i've got about seven different scenes half written out because this fought me every step of the way.

Jason gets a little jealous in this one which i will explore in the next part ;)

MASTERLIST // SERIES MASTERLIST

**

“Do you have to go?”

Panic snaps tight like an elastic band around your chest and you whirl a full hundred-and-eighty degrees to face Jason, breath still frozen solid in your throat.

There’s a pout settled on his face, bottom lip pushed out just slightly, eyes downcast. He looks almost…pathetic really for someone who has the potential to be dangerous. A mean looking bruise grabs at his jaw and annoyingly, it almost makes you cave right there and then.

“Will you stop doing that!” You snap, pitching a tube of lipgloss in his direction. “The idea of dying from a heart attack is so embarrassing. I either die in an epic shoot-out, or I simply just do not die.”

Catching the tube with one hand Jason grumbles and flops face-first onto your bed, “I can’t believe you’re leaving me.” He whines, voice muffled by the duvet. “I bought us facemasks. You’re denying me beautifully moisturised skin. This is the worst thing you’ve ever done.”

“Aw, poor baby.” You mock, standing up from your dresser and draping yourself across his well muscled back. “Is this worse than the time I blew up your microwave? Or the time you asked me to look after your plants and I accidentally killed them?”

Grabbing a pillow, Jason reaches behind him and wacks you with it, “You’re a horrible person and you’re going directly to hell.”

Sniggering, you balance on your knees as Jason shifts underneath you. Once he’s settled so he’s facing upwards you seat yourself comfortably on his stomach. Jason looks at you with nothing but disappointment when you request his attention by sticking a finger in his mouth, but you ignore him and ask, “Will you be there?”

“Get your fucking finger out of my mouth before I bite it off.” He garbles.

“What was that? I can’t understand you.” Grinning to yourself, Jason rolls his eyes and sinks his teeth into your finger. He bites down hard enough for it to fucking hurt and you yell whilst yanking it free. “That was attempted murder. You’re definitely going to hell with me.”

Jason doesn’t reply and you feel the pause in the air. It makes you nervous and you can’t decide if it’s in a good way or not.

“You look really nice.” He suddenly blurts out, and you pause in your anxious examination of your now injured finger. He swallows thickly when you look at him like he’s grown another head, pink splotching clumsily across his cheeks. “But you’re missing something.”

“Yeah.” You agree, trying to control your voice without letting him know that your heart is shaking at the bars of your ribs. “A finger without teeth marks.”

The pink starts dipping to caress his throat and you shift just slightly on his lap, getting worked up about just how far down that colour could reach if you pushed him a little more.

Opening his palm, Jason reveals your lipgloss and he twists it open. You expect him to hand it over to you so you can apply it yourself, but Jason–forever full of surprises–reaches out his steady hand and goes to apply it for you.

His swipes with the wand applicator are precise and you rub your lips together to get them evenly coated, but you end up smudging a small blob of gloss at the corner of your mouth.

Jason’s lips quirk up at the edge and he silently wipes the excess away with the pad of his thumb before you get a chance to even raise your hand.

“There you go.” He says, and his voice is thicker than normal, heavier. “Now you look perfect.”

You find yourself lost for words.

It doesn’t happen often. But sometimes you find yourself grasping at thin air, letters slipping between your fingers like sand.

Well, that's not entirely true.

The right letters are there, but you just don’t know how to hold them yet. And you don’t know what would happen if you stopped hoarding them behind your teeth.

How strange that the fear of something unknown can keep you from being happy; how unbelievably human that is.

Touching the tips of your fingers to the bruise on Jason's jaw you sigh, almost like it’s causing you pain. The colour is dark–recent–not yet starting to heal. Jason exhales and tips his head to the side, baring his throat and letting you explore the edges of the bruising. His eyes slip closed and there's a yearning throb inside you swelling up at just how much trust Jason has in you to be vulnerable.

His hands come to rest on your thighs, thumbs digging into the soft flesh. Sweeping your fingers at the very bottom of the discolouration something catches your eye.

A thin white line stretching across his jugular.

It looks like he’s had this throat sliced open.

Pulling your hand back you say Jason’s name in a near horrified whisper and he turns his head to look at you. There’s something there, written in the lines of his face and the way he looks at you–like you’re everything–but neither of you say a word.

A sudden smile lights up your face despite the sharp wedge of something like grief in your chest and you plant a sticky kiss across Jason’s cheek, “Mwah!”

“Fuck you so much.” Jason says, shoving your head away and wiping the lipgloss from his cheek, but he smiles back at you, Lazarus eyes glittering. “For the record–”

“Oh no you don’t. If the next words out of your mouth are something stupid like, ‘for the record I know you ate the leftover pizza in my fridge last night’ then I’m not listening.”

“For. The. Record…” Jason starts again, “If you’re with me in hell. Then it’s not hell.”

“You’re such a fucking sap, Todd.” Shoving your entire palm in his face he makes a disgruntled noise in the back of his throat and swats at your thigh. “Sweet talk isn’t going to make me stay home tonight. I’m going out and it’s going to be fun!”

**

You’ve got seven messages to say your friends are waiting outside and you wrestle open your door with a growl then turn to face Jason who’s sprawled out on your couch.

“If I don’t text you by one–”

“I’ll come look for you.” Jason finishes. He’s got a mug of tea in his hands and he picks up the book he left on your coffee table the last time he was at your apartment. “Have fun! Don’t do anything stupid.”

“Pfft. I’ve never been stupid a day in my life.”

“Hey! Remember that time when you–”

“Nope!” You interject loudly whilst Jason laughs. “I’m leaving now.”

**

Your shoes keep sticking to the floor.

Resting with one elbow on the bar you sip at your drink and throw a glance around the crowded club. Bodies are jammed together on the dancefloor and as the music swells the crowd rises to match. The entire atmosphere is electric, the push and pull of thrumming bass and alcohol making your hips sway easily to the beat.

“Well hello there, pretty thing. Can I buy you a drink?”

Pointedly glancing down at the glass in your hand with a slight quirk of your mouth you look up and make eye contact with the guy standing beside you. The first thing you notice is that he looks completely out of place; like he would be more at home somewhere quiet. He fiddles with the sleeve of his shirt and you quickly realise that he’s nervous.

It’s almost endearing if not for the whole ‘pretty thing’ thing.

“God.” He says, laughing to himself and rubbing the back of his neck. “That was absolutely horrible–there’s literally a drink in your hand. I’m so sorry. I must admit, this isn’t usually something I do.”

Across the club you watch as your friends zero in on you, waiting for any sign you need intervention–or an escape. Just the knowledge that they’ve got your back is enough for you to loosen your shoulders slightly.

The air around you twists and swells. Someone else has your back too.

“I agree. That was horrible. I mean, pretty thing? Really?” Someone says from behind you, their voice eerily familiar and sharp. A firm arm snakes around your middle and the memory of having that same thick arm wrapped around you whilst you slept flashes bright behind your eyes. “She’s not interested.”

You've never heard Jason sound like that before. He sounds almost possessive, maybe even jealous and it feels like someone just jammed a taser into your ribs and shot you full of fifty-thousand volts.

“The fuck are you doing here?” You ask, leaning back against his chest, skin warm and buzzing. “But also, thank fuck you’re here. Did you hear that guy? Pretty thing? Seriously? I’ve never felt more objectified.”

Jason laughs and rests his head on your shoulder, “It was boring waiting for you to get back and I didn’t feel like doing facemasks on my own. What are you drinking?”

“Something fruity.” Comes your response and you lift the glass so Jason can take the straw between his teeth. “Are you sure you didn’t just miss me?”

Humming as he takes a sip Jason lets the straw go and turns so he can press his mouth against the shell of your ear, “And if I did miss you?”

Your whole body shudders at the tone of his voice and you just barely manage to stop the whine from coming out of your mouth. His arm tightens around your waist and you can’t deny just how good it feels to have him close like this.

“You could have just called. I would’ve come home, you know?”

“I did call.” Jason rumbles, and you pull out your phone to check. “See. I called you twice and you didn’t answer. You’ve really hurt my feelings.”

“Oh here we go again. You’re always talking about your feelings.” Jamming your elbow backwards and into his ribs, Jason recoils in offence. “I hurt your feelings when I stole all your socks. I hurt them when I burnt that cake in your oven. I even hurt them that one time I laughed when you fell down the stairs.”

“I can’t help that I’m sensitive!” Jason defends, the pitch of his voice touching the roof. He shifts to pinch your waist and you smack the back of his hand.

Patting his arm you spin around to face him, and when you glance up at him you suddenly turn thoughtful–emotional.

“You’ve just got a big heart.” You say softly, reaching up to brush your fingers through the white streak in his hair. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”

Jason pauses, and you let your hand drop back to your side.

“And yet you laugh at me when I fall down the stairs.”

“Of course.” You deadpan. “Because it’s really fucking funny.”

**

You took your shoes off a few blocks back and they’re hanging from your fingers as Jason gives you a piggy-back ride home. You were fine until you stepped one foot outside the club and then the hit of somewhat fresh air sent your head spinning.

“I really hope my ass isn’t out.” You mumble, head resting on his shoulder. “No one needs to see what underwear I’ve got on.” Jason sighs like every word out of your mouth causes him physical pain. “At least I hope I’ve got underwear on.”

“You are a goddamn disaster.” He says, mostly to himself. Shifting you further up his back when you start to slide down he grumbles, “For fucks sake you’re not making this easy.”

“I live to please.”

“I think I might actually hate you just a little bit.”

“Rude. Now you’ve hurt my feelings.”

“Now, now, pretty thing.” Jason mocks. “Having your feelings hurt is my thing, not yours. So shut up.”

Breaking out into giggles you tuck your face into Jason’s neck and sigh, “The only person I want to call me pretty is you, Jay.”

“Well I’m not going to do it now.”

Without thinking you sink your teeth into his neck and bite down hard enough for it to bruise. Jason stops dead in the middle of the street, his rough hands flex around your thighs and you honest to god hear him moan.

It sounds almost exactly the same as it does on the videos and you shiver.

“Y’make such pretty noises, Jason.” You praise, and run your tongue along the indents of your teeth in his skin. Goosebumps flare up his forearms and you feel him swallow. You wonder for a split second if he’s blushing again. You wonder how far down it goes this time. “My sensitive boy.”

Yawning loudly, you slump your head back against his shoulder, and Jason starts walking forwards again, his pace uneven.

“M’tired.” You slur, half asleep.

“Almost there.” Jason reassures, “My pretty girl.”

**

[jellybelly-may]

‎‧₊˚✧[a twin's promise]✧˚₊‧

sanzu x twin!reader [platonic!]

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3]

cw: panic attack, slight angst?, family tension, emotional distress, abandonment and estrangement, slight ooc sanzu at the end maybe?, takeomi

Years had passed since you and Haruchiyo left behind the chaotic household of your childhood. The small apartment you now shared had become your sanctuary, a place where you could both finally breathe. Life was quieter now, simpler—though the past still lingered like a shadow you couldn’t fully shake.

It was a sunny afternoon when you decided to head out for some grocery shopping, a routine task that had become a comforting ritual in your new life. After gathering the essentials, you found yourself wandering into a nearby shopping mall, tempted by the thought of treating yourself to a new set of clothes.

As you browsed through the shops, your mind was blissfully blank—until a voice, soft and hesitant, called out from behind you.

“Name-nee?”

You froze, the familiar nickname sending a jolt of panic through your body.

Slowly, you turned around, and there she was.

Senju.

Your younger sister, the one you’d never been close to, stood before you, looking uncertain but determined.

At the same time, the unmistakable scent of cigarettes reached your nose, a scent you knew all too well. It was Takeomi’s favourite brand, the one that clung to his clothes and permeated the air during those endless scoldings.

The memories hit you like a freight train—Takeomi’s angry voice, the way he loomed over you and Haruchiyo, how Senju would hide away, leaving the two of you to bear the brunt of his frustration alone.

Your chest tightened, vision blurred, and before you knew it, the groceries slipped from your hands, scattering across the floor.

Senju’s eyes widened, and she stepped forward to help, her expression worried. But before she could reach you, a tall figure intervened, blocking her path.

Haruchiyo.

He wore a black facemask, but his eyes were unmistakable, narrowed and filled with barely restrained anger.

“Haru-nii,” Senju whispered, but he didn’t let her finish.

“Back off,” Haruchiyo snapped, his voice low and dangerous.

“We don’t want to see you.”

His words were a cold slap, and Senju flinched, taking a step back. Haruchiyo didn’t spare her another glance as he crouched down to gather the fallen groceries, his movements sharp and efficient. Gently, he helped you to your feet, keeping a protective arm around you as he steered you away from the scene as quickly as possible.

Senju stood frozen, watching as the two of you disappeared into the crowd. A moment later, Takeomi appeared beside her, his familiar, heavy presence almost making her shrink back.

“What’s wrong?” Takeomi asked, his voice gruff but tinged with concern.

Senju hesitated, her eyes still on the spot where you and Haruchiyo had vanished. “Nothing,” she finally said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Just… thought I saw someone I knew.”

Takeomi raised an eyebrow but didn’t press further. As the two of them walked away, Senju kept her thoughts to herself, a deep, unresolved sadness settling in her chest.

The ride back to your apartment was silent, Haruchiyo’s hand never leaving yours. When you arrived, he guided you to the sofa, carefully helping you sit down before heading to the kitchen to make you a cup of tea.

You watched him work, the familiar motions calming you somewhat, though your heart was still pounding in your chest. After a few moments, he returned with the tea, handing it to you before sitting down beside you.

“Are you okay?” he asked quietly.

You nodded, your voice a little shaky as you replied, “Yes.”

The two of you sat in silence, the warmth of the tea seeping into your hands, the weight of Haruchiyo’s arm around you grounding you. The memories were still there, but they didn’t seem as overwhelming now, not with Haruchiyo by your side.

As the minutes passed, the quiet between you became a comfort, a shared understanding that words couldn’t fully express. Whatever the world outside held, whatever ghosts from your past might haunt you, you knew you wouldn’t face them alone.

And for now, that was enough. ‧₊˚✧ Bonus Scene ✧˚₊‧

You were still feeling a bit shaken, but the warmth of the tea Haruchiyo made for you and the familiar comfort of being home helped soothe your nerves.

As the two of you sat together on the couch, Haruchiyo suddenly let out a small chuckle, catching you off guard.

“What’s so funny?” you asked, glancing up at him curiously.

He grinned, the kind of grin that told you he was about to say something ridiculous. “I just remembered how you dropped all the groceries when you freaked out back there. It’s kind of impressive how far that bag of rice flew.”

You blinked at him, momentarily stunned by the unexpected comment. Then, to your surprise, a small laugh bubbled up from your chest. “Oh my god, Haru! That’s what you’re thinking about right now?”

He shrugged, trying and failing to keep a straight face. “Hey, I’m just saying, it was pretty impressive. I didn’t know you had that kind of strength in you.”

You rolled your eyes, a smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. “Well, maybe if someone had warned me we might run into someone I didn't want to see after all these years, I wouldn’t have had a panic attack and sent our groceries flying.”

Haruchiyo winced, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Yeah… sorry about that.”

You sighed, leaning into him. “It’s okay, Haru. But seriously, next time, you’re carrying the rice.”

He chuckled, wrapping an arm around you. “Deal. But if we run into anyone else, you’re in charge of the escape plan.”

You snorted, giving him a playful nudge. “Only if you promise not to laugh at me when I inevitably trip over something.”

“Promise,” he said with a grin, squeezing you a little tighter. “And if you do trip, I’ll make sure to pick up the groceries before they hit the ground.”

“Now that’s a plan I can get behind,” you replied, feeling a little lighter as the two of you settled back into the comforting rhythm of your shared life.

[crushedsweets]

What was Toby like during middle school?

kind of obnoxious. he was already being homeschooled by this point, so he wasn't experiencing constant bullying by peers. but he also wasnt getting socialized

around middle school he started getting kinda mean to lyra, snapping at her and calling her names and telling her all her clothes look stupid and whatnot - as well as backtalk to his parents, locking himself in his room, etc

BUT he had so much freetime all the time that he just spend forever googling random shit. knows how to do a rubiks cubes, tons of rando technology and engineering videos, plays the guitar, video game strategies, random shit. so some days, when his mood is better and nobody is pissing him off (aka breathing wrong), he'd sit and talk to lyra about the stuff he's into. and then they'd be alright. she'd start making him watch some of her favorite movies. force him to do a facemask for fun. they'd cook with their mom. lyra and toby played a ton of soccer when toby was in elementary school, so they might get back into that on warmer days. he hated going to the mall with lyra cuz lyra would make him talk to the cashier if he wanted to buy smth. then if he got awkward she's be annoying and go 'ooohhh did you think she was pretty' and he'd tell her to shut up. then they'd go get frozen yogurt or something. but it was a rare occurrence cuz some people were still mean, even adults treating him like a pest who needs to get out of every store

so in general. he's just a moody little smartass. and of course, very awkward.

[abarbaricyalp]

hi! if you're still taking emojis for the sambucky prompt game: 🃏 (if you like!)

🃏 - Are you joking right now? CW: Mention of injury, macabre jokes, cold weather and related concerns

"Are you joking right now?" Sam asked, staring down at the sheer drop and swirling snow below them.

"Well, I know you're not getting the deja vu that I'm getting," Bucky said as he strapped his grappling line to Sam's. "Get on my back and please keep your arms inside the ride at all times. The replacement merch is cool, but not recommended."

Sam glared at him. Bucky didn't need to be able to see through the snow goggles to tell when Sam was glaring at him. As if this was Bucky's idea of a good time. It wasn't his fault there was one way down right now and they didn't have the supplies, or the body heat, to argue about it.

Sam tried to fire up his jetpack again, but the thing was completely frozen over, just like it had been five minutes ago. When Sam had tried to leave it on a low simmer earlier, the whole thing had started to smoke, so they'd nixed that defrosting idea.

"You cannot climb down this cliff," Sam insisted again. "And especially not while you're carrying me."

"You can't climb down it at all," Bucky said. "So this is our only option. We don't have to get all the way down, just below this weather system and back to the foot path."

Which, really, he should keep climbing after that. They really didn't have the provisions to finish the hike down the long way.

"You can't climb through a blizzard!" Sam insisted.

"That is hardly a blizzard. Louisiana mindsets, I swear to God. You know, there was one winter in Brooklyn where it didn't get above--"

Sam smacked a gloved hand over Bucky's mouth. Bucky held up two climbing axes instead of trying to speak. He started in on his shit again when Sam dropped his hand though.

"I didn't ask you to tackle me out of the helicopter." It was how they ended up in the middle of a snow storm two miles high. It was about the same time they realized the wings weren't working.

"Oh, should I have let the knife finish sinking into your face?" Sam asked. Okay, the helicopters had been full of bad guys who also didn't want Sam and Bucky on their ride.

"I was fine. I would've stopped him."

"You would not have. That guy was over powering you."

"Ice got in the plates," Bucky said. He was pretty sure that wasn't possible. His core temperature should've melted any errant intrusions. "I wasn't functioning at my highest. I would've figured it out. Now we're on top of a mountain and about to become ice sculptures. Please get on my back."

He put his facemask on, as if that would stop him from arguing. It hadn't at any other point in this mission. Sam mimicked, pointedly.

"We're going to fall to our deaths," he continued to argue, muffled through layers of protective warmth.

"I'm not going to let you fall," Bucky insisted. Assuming his lines held (and he was the fucking Winter Soldier, his lines were going to hold) neither of them were going to fall. If they slipped, they may be dashed against the side of the mountain, but that wasn't falling. As someone with experience in both things, Bucky had opinions on what was more survivable.

He aligned himself with his first foothold and sank the axe into the ice with a sharp crack. Sam stared at him, irritated, but eventually relented when Bucky continued to cling to the cliff's edge stubbornly.

"Don't drop me," he ordered.

"You'll have to connect your harness to mine," Bucky said as Sam began to climb over his shoulders and onto his back. "They're heavy-duty, so one on each shoulder and one by your waist."

"Bucky, this is a very dumb idea," Sam repeated one more time.

"Your complaints have been received and noted. If this all goes very wrong, you'll be highly vindicated in the history books."

As soon as Sam's weight was settled across his back, Bucky began to climb down. This was a very stupid idea, indeed.

"Hey, just in case these are my last words 'cause my vocal cords froze over or something, I really liked everything we did together. Even the shit I hated. Like this."

"Well, now we have to survive because those were terrible last words," Sam said, even more muffled now that his face was pressed to Bucky's neck. Well, as close to Bucky's neck as he could get through the winter layers. "Thanks, though. Y'know. For not leaving me on top of a mountain."

"Well, if I couldn't pass the time by arguing with you, it'd be a much longer descent."

"So much for your last words."

The snow picked up suddenly and Bucky found himself pressing into the rock face. He was going to lose his holding and certainly his footing if he tried to move right then. The wind howled, something deep and mechanical and rhythmic.

Oh, what the hell? The universe was laughing at him.

"Hey, you two need a ride?" Torres asked over a loud speaker, coming out of the storm in some stealthy little thing. "Or is this some kind of new intense couple's bonding thing?"

"You're joking right now?" Bucky called, though Torres definitely couldn't hear him.

They made quick work of cutting the lines and getting into Torres's little hovercraft. Sam laid on the floor, panting and squeezing his eyes shut like he kept expecting to open them and be outside again.

"I could've totally gone at least another mile down," Bucky insisted to no one at all.

"Are you kidding right now?" Torres asked.

Sam threw a balled up coat at him. And then laughed.

[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: 007 | 𝑼𝑵𝑭𝑰𝑵𝑰𝑺𝑯𝑬𝑫 𝑩𝑼𝑺𝑰𝑵𝑬𝑺𝑺 FIRST CHAPTER: 𝑷𝒓𝒐𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒖𝒆 — 𝑩𝑰𝑹𝑻𝑯 | 1

TRIGGER | CONTENT WARNINGS: COMPREHENSIVE & GRAPHIC DESCRIPTION WRITING OF VIOLENCE, GORE, BLOOD, and SCARIFICATION!!! Mentions of DEATH & PROFANITY!!!

008 | Catharsis

❝I endured for the flames within me burn brighter. In the crucible of adversity. I emerged unscathed. For the blaze of my inner strength, outshone the inferno that sought to consume me.❞

•◉◓☆◓◉•

Every sound and shift in the air around me became crucial, as my eyesight returned. The debris and lingering smoke obscured my view, forcing me to rely on my heightened senses. I rose from the ground, the bruises on my body already healing, though the pain remained. The stench of burning energy and scorched earth mixed with the coppery scent of blood and sweat made the air thick and heavy in my lungs.

The smoke dissipated the area, revealing the aftermath of the chaos as my breath hitched, the reality became clearer. I could finally make out the figure of Piccolo, battered but still standing, his hulking frame staggered slightly. Blood ran from his wounds, but the damage I had inflicted was already mending, his regeneration kicking in to mend the fresh slashes and punctures. His outstretched hand glowed with that all-too-familiar green light.

My heart skipped a beat and my eyes widened.

That light—that sickening green glow—I recognized it immediately. The Evil Containment Wave.

The realization hit me like a freight train, as the dust cleared, revealing the extent of the carnage. Time seemed to slow as I grasped the implications. Piccolo, standing there, battered and bruised, but smiling, as he prepared to use one of the most dangerous techniques in existence. 

The same technique that had been used to imprison his father. My breath caught in my throat as if gripped by an invisible hand, my chest felt tight and the rapid pounding of my heart echoed in my ears, drowning out all other sounds.

No... not again. Not me.

My lips curled into a snarl behind my facemask, a feeble attempt to hide the sheer panic across my features. The memories flooded in, unbidden and relentless. Being trapped, bound in a prison that defied time, tortured for what felt like eternity, and the maddening silence. My hands began to tremble, and I felt the old familiar panic clawing my body.

My breathing quickened, shallow gasps as if the air around me had thickened, refusing to fill my lungs. I took a step back, instinctively retreating, my vision narrowed, focusing entirely on the orb in Piccolo's hand. He noticed the dread in my eyes, his lips curling into a wide, vicious grin. He reveled in my reaction, savoring every moment of distress when I realized the tables had turned, and I was the one at his mercy.

Bastard...

The cold sweat that drenched my skin made my movements sluggish, my limbs heavy. I couldn't go back to that—I wouldn't. I wanted to scream, but no sound escaped my lips. My throat was tight, my body frozen between fight and flight, and I couldn't decide which to choose. My gaze flickered between Piccolo and the rapidly growing sphere of energy in his hand. It grew larger, and the air crackled with its ominous power.

If I didn't move, if I didn't act—

An explosion rang out, and the world snapped back into focus.

"I won't allow it, Piccolo!" A blast of ki struck Piccolo from behind, sending him staggering forward, his concentration shattered and a hiss escaped from his lips. The green orb fizzled out, the threat momentarily diffused.

Who?

My eyes darted toward the source of the attack who had so boldly interfered in our bloodshed while my heart was still racing in my chest. A figure—a blur of speed—rushed toward Piccolo and engaged him in a fierce clash. I blinked, my mind struggling to process the sudden shift in the battlefield. The intruder moved with breathtaking speed, slowly I examined the stranger, and my heart sank to my core.

Despite the aged and frail form, I could see the undeniable resemblance to King Piccolo. The two warriors grappled, their hands locked in a deadly struggle for power. The intruder—a green-skinned, elderly demon—had halted Piccolo's attack, saving me from the brink of entrapment. His grip on Piccolo's wrist was unyielding, he pulled downward with all his might, preventing him from launching the Evil Containment Wave. The technique, which had seemed so imminent, was now thwarted.

For now.

Piccolo snarled in frustration, his eyes blazing with fury at the old individual interference. He struggled against the stranger's grip, his muscles straining with the effort. "You dare interfere, old man?" Piccolo spat, his voice laced with venom.

The old demon's expression was grim, his eyes filled with a mixture of determination and sorrow. "I cannot allow you to continue down this path of destruction, Piccolo," he said, his voice steady despite the exertion. "Your father's evil ends here."

My knees felt weak, the weight of what almost happened still pressing on my ribcage. The relief that washed over me was brief, quickly replaced by dread. My heart still throbbed painfully in my chest, but my mind was starting to catch up.

Two King Piccolos.

Whether they were incarnated or born, whatever history these two shared, it was irrelevant now. But my goal remained unchanged—to eliminate the dangers before me. My chance to slaughter them stood before me, and I couldn't waste it. My hands flexed, the ki crackling around my fingers as I summoned power to my palms. The orbs formed quickly, pulsating with raw energy, their heat radiating against my skin.

"I don't know what's going on," I muttered, my voice hoarse from the lingering panic. The adrenaline coursing through my veins burned away the shock, replacing it with a feral, unhinged desperation. Both Piccolo and his elder counterpart turned toward me, their eyes locking onto mine.

"But I do know one thing..." I felt the weight of the energy in my hands, the growing power ready to be unleashed as they absorbed the vast reserves of potency within me, growing in size. My lips twisted into an erratic smirk, a callous expression devoid of hesitation behind my mask.

"You're both meant to die."

With a savage cry, I hurled the two orbs of energy at the clashing demons. The spheres screamed through the air, hurtling toward their targets with a force that shook the crumbling foundations beneath my feet. As they barreled toward their marks, the power was overwhelming, the heat intense enough to sear the air around them.

I stood there, heart thumping, I watched the two demons react to the incoming attack, their movements quick yet frantic. Piccolo, slowed by the earlier onslaught, tried to evade, but it struck him squarely in the chest, sending him hurtling back, his roar of pain swallowed by the explosion's deafening echo.

The elder demon fared no better.

The sound of his body slamming into the cracked ground reverberated through the arena, a sickening crunch followed by an eerie stillness. Dust swirled in the wake of the impact, the tremors still rippling through the fractured earth. I could see Piccolo now, sprawled in the rubble, his face twisted in discomfort as he struggled to push himself up, battered and bloodied.

His breath came in ragged bursts, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth, the sharp and iron scent of blood barely noticeable in the smoke-filled air. His gaze shifted to the elder demon crumpled in the rubble, struggling to rise. The impact cratered the floor where he landed.

Piccolo glared at me, eyes burning with a fury so intense it sent a shiver down my spine. His snarl cut through the haze of smoke and noise like a blade. "You'll pay for that, cockroach!"

"Don't tell me you care for him?" The words escaped before I could stop them, driven by a wild, reckless impulse. There was no logic left, only instinct, only survival.

His response came as a thunderous yell, "You know nothing of what I feel!" The earth quaked violently, cracks forming beneath our feet, snaking outwards as his energy swelled. I could feel my ki rising in response, surging like fire, burning away the last vestiges of sanity.

Piccolo's hands crackled with fierce, golden ki, an aura surrounding his frame as if his wrath had taken physical form. He leveled a piercing glare in my direction. "I will make you pay for everything you've done!" His voice was guttural and raw with anger.

I flexed my hands at my sides, feeling the energy pulse and ignite, barely restrained beneath my fingertips. A sharp, shaky breath escaped me as I forced every ounce of power into my hand, a blazing sphere of ki forming, coiling around my fingers with electric intensity. It grew, fiery tendrils snapping through the air, casting jagged light across the broken landscape.

"Then come at me brute!" I spat, my voice shaky with desperation.

Instantly, I propelled myself forward, hovering above the cracked ground, closing the gap between us. I swung hard, my ki-infused fist aimed with deadly precision at his face. But as my ki-infused punch was about to connect, his form shimmered, flickered, and vanished—an afterimage.

My eyes widened as I swung through empty air, my momentum sending me off balance, my body turning to face behind me. My mind barely registered what was happening before pain exploded across my face. His clasped hands smashed into me, sending my body plummeting to the floor with bone-jarring force.

The impact rattled my skull, a crunch filling my ears as agony radiated from my nose down through my spine. I tasted copper and felt my blood warmth dribble down my lips. Piccolo's assault didn't stop there. As I lay defenseless on the ground, he brought his clasped hands down upon me again with devastating force, pulverizing my body and burying me in the broken ground.

A choked, gurgling scream tore from my throat as the ground crumbled, and shockwaves of pain coursed through my battered face. The ki orb around my hand sputtered out, its energy fading, slipping through my fingers like water. I lay there, broken, my vision dimming, the edges of my sight darkening as consciousness began to slip away.

No, no.. keep... goi.....

My mind screamed, but the darkness was closing in, pulling me down. I could feel the warmth draining from my limb; the last sensory details faded into black. I don't know how long I was out. Seconds? Minutes? The moment I gasped in air, the ache crashed back into my awareness, every throb sharp and immediate yet gradually fading away.

I blinked, forcing my eyes to focus. Through a hazy fog, I saw him: the elder demon, looming over me, bruised but resolute, his breaths uneven. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth as he spoke, though his words sounded like echoes in a tunnel.

"Good, you're—"

I didn't let him finish.

Instinct overtook me, a surge of power rushed through me, primal and unrestrained. I hurled myself upward, my fingers igniting with ki as I launched a frantic volley of blasts toward him, an attempt to tear him apart before he could finish me. His eyes widened as he stumbled back, caught off guard by the fury of my assault. One of the blasts clipped his shoulder, leaving a shallow wound. But the way his eyes narrowed, I could tell he wasn't only taken aback by my attack—he saw something more.

"[First Name], I'm trying to help you!" he shouted, discomfort evident in his voice. "I'm on your side!"

But reason had evaporated. His words became meaningless, drowned in a torrent of rage and desperation that blurred all else. My pulse thundered, every instinct urging me to rip, tear, destroy. I fired another blast, a cruel grin creeping onto my lips as he deflected it with a grunt of exertion.

In my mind, everything around me was an enemy, a threat. They all wanted me subdued, silenced. My gaze settled on his injured arm, a chink in his defenses. With a swift kick, I sprang to my feet and closed the gap, unleashing another flurry of strikes.

His body battered and bruised, could only defend himself as best he could. His defensive movements grew frantic, his body moving with the practiced agility of a seasoned warrior but strained under the onslaught. My savage smirk only widened, savoring his struggle.

"Please!" he called, his voice cracking under the strain. "You must listen to me! I'm not your enemy!"

His words fell upon deaf ears. I watched as his movements slowed, as weariness began to weigh down his steps. My pulse quickened, and the exhilaration of watching him falter felt intoxicating. I lunged, drawing back my arm to deliver a brutal blow to his injured shoulder. My fist connected, sending shockwaves through him.

He cried out, collapsing onto his knees, his arm hanging uselessly at his side, the bones shattered, and flesh torn. For a moment, he looked up at me, his eyes hollow with a haunting mix of fear and resignation. I read his gaze—he had accepted whatever fate I had for him.

My foot swung back, positioned to deliver a devastating blow to his face when a furious shout shattered through the air, causing me to halt my actions mid-swing. I turned, and my gaze locked onto Piccolo, his form was blazing with renewed energy and a crescent-shaped ki attack, charging between his fingers, pulsing with deadly intent. His sharp-like nails glistened in the blood-red hue of the setting sun.

Acting on reflex, I flicked my wrist, summoning a barrier just in time. His ki blast collided with the wall, detonating in a shockwave that rattled the floor, forcing me back. I raised my arms in a futile attempt to protect myself from the blast wave. Dust and debris filled the air, and I stumbled, feeling my hood fall back, my hair tangling as I fought to keep my footing.

The light from his attack dissipated; it was a brief moment of respite as the barrier disappeared, and I stood there, lowering my hands, my body tensed for the next attack. Piccolo stumbled back, his eyes wide with surprise at my sudden defense. His gaze shifted between the elder demon and me, his jaw clenched, and his expression hardening with steely resolve. His eyes burned with outrage and determination, likely his pride wounded.

"You're just like him," Piccolo remarked, his voice hostile. His hands trembled, fingers clenched so tightly that his green skin split, letting droplets of blood seep through. "Stubborn, defiant, incapable of submitting to anyone's will but your own."

He took a step forward, his towering frame shuddering with the rage that vibrated through every muscle, every inch of his being. His words felt like a spiteful reminder of the cycle of retaliation and hatred that bound us. "You should have been the one stuck in that containment! You should have suffered like my father did, rotting away for centuries!"

Without thinking, the words escaped my lips, seething with bitterness. "Oh, yeah?" I spat back, my voice barely a hiss, yet laced with raw hatred. "I should've killed your father instead of trapping him." My words, thrown like a weapon, struck him. I took a step forward, my muscles tensed, my vision sharp and tunneled onto Piccolo's twisted expression.

"Maybe I should've taken his life so you wouldn't have been born!"

Piccolo's eyes widened at the words, shocked before his gaze hardened into something darker. I could see the war raging inside him, a flicker of disbelief, a hint of uncertainty, but mostly a blazing unbridled rage, his muscles coiled and ready to strike.

"You..." His voice dropped into a feral snarl, unable to form anything more articulate. Without warning, he lunged at me, faster than my eyes could track. His fist struck forward, aimed with lethal intent, the sheer momentum rending through the still air.

However, I was ready, and as his fist cut through, I moved my own, channeling energy from my hands as I parried the strike. The impact was a thunderous collision of power, a shockwave rippling outward from our clash, and the force of it drove us both back, our balance challenged, our bodies straining against the recoil.

"You want to take responsibility for my existence?" he taunted. "Then you should be prepared to face the consequences of your actions."

Before his words could sink in, I surged forward, harnessing my speed to disappear from his line of sight. I appeared behind him in a flash. He spun around, his movements fueled by reflex, his elbow hurled and aimed directly at me. But his blow passed harmlessly through the space where I should have been—just an afterimage I left behind and reappeared behind him once more.

Taking the opening, I drove my elbow into his back with all the force I could muster, feeling it connect solidly against his spine. For a frozen moment, time seemed to halt as the repulsive crunch of bone breaking filled my ears of my brutal strike. His scream echoed through the barren landscape as he was flung forward, his body wracked by the impact.

He hit the ground with a vibrant thud, breath heaving, hands clawing at his back, fingers slick with blood and sweat as he assessed the jagged shards of his broken bones beneath his flesh and tissue. Though his regenerative power began to mend his wounds, he was weakening. Every second his body knitted itself back together, his reserves of energy diminished, sapping the vitality that fueled his stubborn ferocity.

Struggling, Piccolo pushed himself to his feet, his movements slow, his back crooked as he forced himself upright. The pain was etched on his face, his eyes watering and each gasping for a struggle. Even in misery, his gaze remained fixed on me, unwavering and defiant.

I mirrored his stare, neither of us breaking eye contact as he stepped forward, his movements awkward and unsteady. A tense silence settled, interrupted only by the raw sound of our breaths. The acrid scent of sweat and smoke, mingling with the distinct tang of burnt flesh, seeped into the air, as the horizon burned crimson and gold with the setting sun, casting a fierce, bloodied light over our battered forms.

I steadily walked towards him, my shoes crunching against the ground. My clothes are clad in dried blood and scarcely tattered by the force of our attacks. We advanced, closing the distance until, with an unspoken signal, we pounced at each other. Our bodies clashed and every movement was a blur of power and agility.

His fist streaked toward me, and I ducked, my hand connecting with his ribs in a shock of energy. Piccolo staggered back, grunting in pain, but countered with a swing of his own, his knuckles splitting the skin above my left eye. The sting was sharp, though it only fueled my determination. The fight stretched, our blows shaking the earth, sending cracks, spidering across the rocky ground.

Sweat poured down my face, his swings and charging ki was sluggish, his steps heavier as he pushed his body to its limits. Unlike him, my own body healed, a blessing, and a curse, allowing me to push past the broken bones and torn flesh without faltering. My endurance had become my prison—an eternity of fighting, of healing, of watching everyone else grow weary while I remained, bound to this cycle and this damn planet.

Every time Piccolo attacks, I meet his moves with precision, slipping past his guard, striking, retreating, and wearing him down. His determination was fierce, while desperation had crept into his gaze. Piccolo lashed out, his leg blurring through the air with a vicious kick, and I anticipated the move, ducking beneath the strike. Moving instinctively, I threw myself forward, grabbing him with every ounce of strength.

My arms enveloped his leg and waist, and together we crashed against the rocky floor, fracturing profoundly. Dust swirled up around us in a storm of grit, I had him for a moment—until he retaliated with a punch to my face, a brutal blow that sent a spike of pain shooting through my skull. I gritted my teeth against the searing ache, refusing to let go. I tightened my grip, reckless with my actions mixing with the thrill of the struggle.

We rolled across the busted ground and thrashed to gain control. Piccolo wrenched free, flipping me beneath him, his clawed nails digging into my shoulders, attempting to pin me down; I felt the agonizing prick of skin breaking from his grip.

"Get off!"

I brought my knees to my chest and energy surged within my legs. I shot them forward in a powerful double kick, launching Piccolo through the air. His claws raking across my shoulders tore pieces of flesh as he was flung away. My body cried in anguish, the wounds burning, but I could feel them already beginning to heal, the pain receding.

I forced myself to my feet and looked up into the night, the stars were twinkling brightly like diamonds in the vast darkness. The air carried the faintest hint of smoke mingling with the oppressive quiet that followed. There was no calm, no peace; only the electric tension thrumming between us.

Hovering above, Piccolo raised his hands, gathering the last reserves of his power into a ball of scorching ki that expanded, its heat washing over me like a furnace. My heartbeat thundered in my chest, sensing its intensity even from where I stood. The pale glow bathed the landscape, illuminating every detail.

My lips pressed together firmly and I extended my hand, concentrating as the energy pool within my palm sparkled and crackled once it took form. I dropped low, muscles coiling, then surged forward, launching toward him with everything I had. The wind tore against my skin, shrieking past, yet all I could see was Piccolo's face—unhinged, resolute, a mirror of my grim perseverance.

He roared, his ki blazing in his hands, and with a thrust, he unleashed the massive ball of energy toward me, a searing wave of heat that threatened to swallow me whole. Whereas I met it head-on, my own orb of energy blazing with an intensity that matched his. It streaked through the air, a comet of raw power aimed directly at his ki blast.

For a heartbeat, the world fell silent, each fraction of a second stretching into eternity as the two attacks barreled toward one another, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. The lights grew brighter, two orbs that pulsed with the heat of a dying star.

Then they collided.

The explosion was cataclysmic, with a deafening boom that shook the heavens. The sky split by a flash that swallowed the world whole. Debris scattered like shrapnel and jagged stones pelting me as I tumbled backward. The world spun around me, colors blending together, my senses dulled by the sheer violence of the collision.

The energy ripped at my body, the scorching heat burning my skin, the sheer velocity knocking the air from my lungs as I plummeted back to earth. Pain bloomed in every nerve, sharp and brutal, as my body crashed into the ground with bone-breaking force.

I couldn't let out a cry.

●

●

●

My body convulses as I gasp for air sharply, every breath labored, choking on the dust and grit that coated my mouth and lungs. I coughed violently, spitting out clumps of dirt as my vision spun, the world around me was a haze. Then my body screamed in excruciation, every jolt of pain tearing through my nerves, as though they were being set on fire one by one. I wailed out in misery that echoed in the silence of the night.

The unnatural pulse of my regenerative abilities fighting against my own mangled flesh. The torment grew as my bones knit back together, tissue fusing back into place with a fiery sting that was both a curse and my only salvation. I could hear the sticky flesh shifting and the sound of bones crunching.

The dried blood on my clothes mixes with the sweat and grime that coats my burned skin. I writhed on the jagged rocks, grating against my exposed wounds, I didn't even want to move, yet my body involuntarily shifted to lay on my stomach. Through the suffering, one thought crystallized in my mind...

Where is Piccolo?

I focused, straining every sense to detect even the faintest of energy. Gritting my teeth, I pushed my battered form onward, muscles trembling as my legs dragged behind me, barely functional as they struggled to heal. I pulled myself forward, inch by gurgling inch.

My path was marked by a trail of blood, smeared against the ground. Finally, I caught it—a faint pulse of ki emanating from the rubble nearby. My eyes narrowed, and I staggered to my feet, unsteady and weak but driven by locating Piccolo as I stumbled forward, my eyes locked on a familiar figure.

In the distance, Piccolo's prone form lay half-buried in debris, his chest barely rising and falling in shallow, ragged breaths. I pressed onward, my vision tunneling on him, the fallen monster, who, despite everything, clung to life. The silence was defending like the calm before a storm.

Each step sends shockwaves of discomfort through my mending bones and burned flesh, but the adrenaline coursing through my veins helps to dull the edge. I loom over him, my gaze fixed on his unconscious body. "Just die already," I hissed, the words escaping my lips like a prayer for his demise.

My hand rose, the remnants of my power surging within me, forming a crackling orb of energy around my fingers. With focused concentration, I shape the energy into a razor-sharp blade, enveloping my hand. I raised it, ki flaring, and felt the weight of this moment settle over me — I was his executioner, and he was powerless to stop me.

But then, out of nowhere, a force blindsided me, tackling me with enough strength to send me hurtling through the air and crashing onto the unforgiving ground. The impact jarred me so completely that I could feel my bones splinter beneath the strain.

A scream tore through me as white-hot pain blossomed in one of my arms, the stranger twisted and bent my arm in unnatural angles. I could feel the sickening pop as my bone tore free from the muscle and tissue, protruding grotesquely from my skin. My vision blurred, the agony swelling until it was the only thing I knew.

"Stop this now!" a voice commanded, the authority in his tone cutting through the fog of misery that clouded my mind. The stranger's weight pressed down on me forcing my spine to arch painfully, and then the sickening crack reverberated through my body as my vertebrae snapped.

My thoughts scrambled, snapping me out of my unhinged state and forcing me to confront the reality of my situation. My breaths came in short, desperate gasps, reduced to little more than broken whimpers. Summoning what little strong will remained to push back my anguish, I craned my neck to look up, my eyes focusing through the searing ache.

It was Goku.

•◉◒☆◒◉•

Finished: November 2, 2024 Published: November 2, 2024

PREVIOUS CHAPTER: 007 | 𝑼𝑵𝑭𝑰𝑵𝑰𝑺𝑯𝑬𝑫 𝑩𝑼𝑺𝑰𝑵𝑬𝑺𝑺 NEXT CHAPTER: 009 | 𝑨𝑻𝑶𝑵𝑬𝑴𝑬𝑵𝑻

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

[ricekirspies]

GOING TO DISNEY WITH AVATAR

Headcannons

*This is what I think they would be like, don't get cranky if you don't agree*

Seating arrangement!

You, Tsireya and Kiri were talking about the mickey ears you would buy, while the boys fought about who would be the most scared ( it was really just Ao'nung and Lo'ak at eachothers throat with the other two holding them back). Tuk is just blasting cookie swirl c in her unicorn headphones.

Jake and Tonowari are also arguing about how Jake missed a turn, and Neytiri and Ronal are actually getting along and gossiping.

Then, Tsireya wips out UNO from nowhere and everyone is alert. Even Tuk who has shockingly turned off her iPad ( she's deffo an iPad kid). Now everyone is glaring at eachother with anger, apart from Rotxo. Ao'nung has to pick up 4 cards, Lo'ak blocks Tuk so she chucks her headphones at him, Neteyam and Kiri sit in silence concentrating, Rotxo is just saying well done at everything (You almost chuck Tuks headphones at him because of it) and you and Tsireya are teaming up against everyone.

Surprisingly enough, Rotxo wins and that causes everyone to start arguing. Eventually the mums come in and break it up, Neytiri stealing Tuk from you, so now you can actually swear and proper fight. But that's quickly dissolved when the caravan stops and you all turn your heads out the window to see a gas stop. And where there's a gas stop there is sweets. Trampling over eachother, everyone runs into the small shop and strips the shelves ( the parents are Dumbfounded with Neteyam forcing everyone to only pick up two things and saying 'we can share').

After your snack break, Ronal announces that you still have about 6 hours left. So everyone except Neteyam and Tsireya use this time as a nap break. Kiri decides to move over to the chair that Tuk was in You rest your head on her shoulder, which soon enough falls down to her lap but she doesn't mind. So she softly strokes your hair while you sleep. 30 minutes later, you wake up to see everyone but Tsireya asleep so you make a devious (😈😈) plan. Grabbing a two pens, you give one to Tsireya and starting on different ends you decorate everybody's face with artistic pieces ( the mums see you doing this but don't care). Ao'nung wakes up first, and startles everyone else awake with his annoying laughter. But he quickly shuts up when Lo'ak tells him to look at himself, stealing Kiris mirror and sliding it down the table to him.

Then you all decide to go into the back bedroom to watch a movie. Neteyam sits on the floor, as do rotxo and Ao'nung (who isn't very happy about that and told everyone on the bed to fuck themselves). Everyone agrees to watch Frozen, although lo'ak and Ao'nung don't look too pleased. Now everyone is screaming at the tv singing 'Let it go'.

Then you guys stop at a hotel bc its gotten too late. So Neteyam,Ao'nung,Rotxo andlo'ak share a room, you, Kiri, Tsireya Tuk share, and the married couples all share a room with their partner.

You and the girls decide to have a girls night, with facemasks and gossiping and everything. So that's what you do. Tuk tells you all the tea from her primary, while you guys tell her all the gossip and shit going on at your school. Then soon enough a knock comes, Tsireya opens it and Rotxo asks if he can come in ( the boys are constantly arguing) so you all look at eachother and nod, because he's just the sweetest ever. Then Neteyam wants to come in, then Lo'ak and finally, Ao'nung. Luckily, you brought extra face masks so you do all the boys.

Afterwards, Ao'nung says something stupid, so you throw a pillow at him, he throws it back, so you grab it and aggressively attack him. And thus starts, the pillow fight. Boys vs Girls. Even though Tuk is dead asleep on a bed, you manage to win a three against 4.

As for sleeping arrangements, you and Tsireya are all cuddled up, Kiri and Tuk sleeping on a different bed, and all the boys on the floor with pillows and blankets. You were woken up 5 times bc Ao'nung wouldn't stop kicking lo'ak in the face.

Before you know it, you've tidied up the room and are back on your way, only 4 hours left now. And you decide that is the perfect amount of time to take insta photos. So you spend the next 30 minutes getting a good lighting and angle, and force everyone to get in.

You stop at McDonald's 2 hours before, and Jake is rushing everyone in and out saying 'we're on a schedule here, Jesus people' and Lo'ak makes things worse by ordering the wrong meal and Neteyam says he somehow takes full responsibility. Now Jake's shoved everyone into the car all moody after sorting it out, so you guys have to literally look everywhere but eachother because if anyone makes eye contact you will all set all laughing.

And finally you've made it into disney, getting out of the caravan everyone is overjoyed and you just rush over to the entrance, Tuk has out down cookie swirlc yet again to join you (Jumping on your back, forcing you to carry her).

Fun facts

Kiri never got her mirror back.

It was actually Neteyams fault that Lo'aks order was messed up

Tsireya is going to ask you to date her a Disneyland (if I make a pt.2)

[visceravalentines]

leaving town for the weekend thank christ

got my frozen facemask and my headphones and I'm ready to cease to exist in the backseat for four hours

[osakanone]

Hello Angel Cellar I am going into battle And I want your most biblically accurate angels

Music: New Mobilesuit Report: Gundam Wing: XXXG 00W0

A skeletal knight. Her armour is comprised of seashells curving like the body-panelling of some futuristic motorcycle. Metallic gold dances over ocean white. Her skeleton beneath is too, metallic shrouded in where light cannot reach of gears, pistons and swirling mechanical systems that make the F22 Air Superiority fighter of the US airforce look like the Wright Brother's flyer. Her shoulders and forearms are mighty pauldrons dressed about a rounded mechanical hub, like miniaturized riot-shields protecting fascists from the wrath of the people. Upon her chest is not breast, but the bonnet of a car, torn open by a hexagonal beak. Within it, a gemstone, an eye of enormous green like, a pearl held clamlike gazing and watching asll it surveys. Cast about are swirling panels like surf-board guitars of wings and winglets in dove-like forms. They branch like veins, arteries, muscular capillaries in incomprehensible forms supported by mechanical trusses of the space-station: wings lashed by rectangular crane-arms. She reaches to her left. She watches, beneath a samurai's gleaming white helmet, of elf-like long pointed winglet like ears and a steely gemstone gaze. Over her mouth, a facemask, studded either side by her helmet crown. Her chin, a bearded like horn. Upon her forehead, a third eye, upon the studed razorsharp twin boomerang of her tiara. Above, a fourth upon a mohawk of metal. This crustacean armour is made machine-like by rhombus and trapezoid like sections connecting flowing lines. Her boots of gold have goats-feet for heels, and forward some strange combination of a sneaker, and a hot iron press.

Her wings give the impression of a lacy white wedding-dress. Of the vapour-trails left by fighter-jets. There is vulnerability here. She looks dainty almost. Like you could hurt her. But you cannot. Upon her throughout are tiny holes, thruster vents which both inhale and exhale through mechanical insets. Bell thruster church bells like the mighty rockets that took humans to the moon in funnels of fuel frozen liquid hydrogen scream with nuclear fire. E equals Emm Cee Squared becomes diamonds of gasseous heat shocking our thick ocean-like atmosphere. Around her orbit rifles shaped like sabres in clusters of three all longways in a triangle together. They orbit her in mighty rings. Upon each hip, half of a strange rifle, a distortion of physics itself in which the very concept matter collapses and dies in its dragon's breath -- where the very particles used to conceal such mighty weapons are petrolium lit by her, as a match. Each, resembling a scientific instrument sit docked as if holstered. As if she is a cowboy ready to draw. Her feathers are like knives. This thing scarsely called robot, this being is filled with love. She will protect you.

Her name is Zero.

[anxiouslyfred]

Avoiding the Expected

Following on from The Unexpected Option

Summary: Virgil's day after his first date with Remus is unexpected, but not always because of his date.

Author's note: I got a comment on this fic on AO3 asking me to continue it and have had fun finding things that wouldn't be expected in situations again

/\

Virgil woke shivering. He remembered confessing and Remus surprising him with a spa night, including cuddling in bed to sleep so he definitely shouldn’t be shivering on a floor now.

“Remus, why is it freezing?” He grumbled, feeling the limbs clinging to him as he opened his eyes, still hoping to see the room they’d fallen asleep in around them.

“Don’t know, did you pick a teatree or mint facemask last night?” The sleepy response got an eyeroll; Of course the masks had secondary effects.

He frowned as the biggest change registered, half surprised he’d taken so long to notice it. “No, but then this tower wasn’t blue last night either.”

“What?” Remus sprang free of him, looking around. “I didn’t do that!”

The confusion explained enough for Virgil. They were in the imagination so if Remus hadn’t done it to show how unexpected he could be there was one person who must have done it.

“ROMAN!” He yelled, standing and storming out of the room. “Mindless, idiotic thoughtless Prince! Get here! NOW!”

He didn’t have to wait long before a grinning Roman came hurrying up the castle stairs. “Yes Virge-” He stopped smiling and slowed down seeing the expression on Virgil’s face.

“Did you check who else was here or just decide everyone you didn’t know was should get hypothermia?” Virgil glared, stalking down the steps.

“I didn’t expect anyone to be-” Roman began to try and explain before glancing at the walls around them. “Why is the ice turning to metal?”

Virgil huffed, crossing his arms and hunching in a little as his anger calmed just enough for shivering to assert itself again. “You expect Remus to counter cold with heat, right?”

He was getting nodded at as Roman replied before remembering who they were talking about. “Well yes, that’s – Ah.”

“Vee!” Remus slid down a banister that hadn’t been there until he was. “Let’s go mining! I’ll get you a fire diamond!”

“I get steel toecaps and we both wear hard hats.” He cautioned with a sharp glance.

Remus nodded rapidly, “They’ll glow in the dark too!” He was already hurrying off so Virgil assumed he was getting the safety equipment he’d requested.

Watching the scene had Roman raising his hands, “So Snow White instead of Frozen?”

“No! We just made plans for this weather. Don’t change it now!” Virgil snapped, hurrying after Remus and assuming Roman would listen to him. Out of the Creative sides he was the most likely too at least.

~

Their mining trip was cut short by Remus declaring Thomas needed to out plastic in the oven and rushing off. Virgil took the time to gather their gems together, including a fire diamond which Remus had formed and safely store the equipment before he felt Thomas getting anxious enough he’d appear. It felt like a frustrated anxiousness though which should be fun; He hadn’t gotten to really argue with everyone in a while.

The fire diamond was still in his hoodie pocket, warming his hands as he hunched in to listen unless he got noticed.

“You’ve been spending a lot of time with Virgil recently,” Logan interrupted the essay of a dozen subjects Remus seemed to be reciting, “Surely you understand the dangers of these actions?”

Virgil wondered if it was still about melting plastic but expected to carry on being ignored until he decided to add his views. He should have known by that that it wouldn’t happen.

“My job is to voice everything troublesome. You and my Black Widow decide how Thomas acts.” Remus countered, vanishing from his spot only to reappear wrapping himself around Virgil. “And I’d love to tell you all the raunchy details of our love but it’s not something my Darkling would like.”

While Virgil was silently thanking Remus for understanding that even if they’d done barely anything yet, Thomas quietly asked Logan, “My sides can date?”

“Yes Thomas you’ve encouraged it before even.” He answered, straightening his glasses, “Though this is unexpected. I’d have thought Virgil would prefer someone less manic.”

Remus tugged them both further up the stairs. “MINE! And I’m the unexpected one.”

“It describes both of you, and we’ve made videos about both too,” Logan stated, holding a notebook up to check that was right, which Virgil guessed it was with his introduction. “Can we focus on the issue at hand now?”

Virgil sunk out to pop up at the bottom of the stairs, “Would if I could but I don’t know it. Melting plastic or burning it is a no from me though.”

“Thomas was deciding between reheating left overs he’s had almost a week or trying to cook something fresh.” Logan stated, glancing over at Remus which basically said the one he was hoping to avoid.

“Reheating is easier but I bet you’ve got some lists of what bacteria doesn’t make a food look mouldy when it’s at dangerous levels. Try cooking, keep plastic not on saucepans away from the oven and I’ll keep watch too.” Virgil muttered quickly, narrowing his eyes at the clipboard Logan had swapped his notebook for. “Are you going to try starting a fire, causing knife wounds or just causing general mischief?” He asked turning to Remus who had looked bright when he turned.

With a pout Remus glanced at the kitchen. “That makes the unexpected options boring.”

“Not really, there’s plenty of trouble you could cause without joining us.” Thomas sighed, trying to figure out how that was a way to comfort one of his sides.

“I’m going to set a picnic up by a volcano for me and Virge to have after he’s done helping you!” The excited yell rang through the room though Remus was no longer in it.

For a moment Virgil smirked at the ceiling. He hadn’t expected to get a boyfriend when he confessed his attraction to Remus but was happy with it. As long as he could keep expecting the more dangerous things around Thomas, what happened in the mind-space didn’t need so much concern.

[meeeeeeese]

Back in the old times

A look at Zerek's life as a primus, back before the personal story began. In which Zerek has a sparring session with his most difficult, and most successful student.

(August belongs to @commanderhorncleaver go check him out, I command you)

Zerek stood in the training yard, sword and shield at the ready, looking out through his armoured facemask at his young charge. Across from him his apprentice, a pale yellow furred charr with a flowing reddish-brown mane dressed in a soot grey ash legion uniform, one that had clearly been altered to be far more revealing of his legs and chest. Zerek narrowed his eyes, the cub was showing off, again. His apprentice gave him a cocky smile.

"What are we waiting for old man, let’s get going already"

He stood in a slouched position, playfully leaning on his staff waiting for the sparring to begin.

Zerek growled,

"we're getting started as soon as you assume a proper stance Augustus" Zerek Replied gruffly.

August rolled his eyes,

"Whatever you say old man" and he dropped into a battle stance, staff held in a defensive position. It was sloppy, but if Zerek waited for anything better, they might be there until after dinner. Zerek sighed, better get things started then.

"This match will continue until one of us is at the other's mercy. Use the spells I taught you, and don't involve bystanders. You won't always have weak minded souls around you to fight in your stead."

"Urgh, fine whatever. Let's go then!" And Augustus sprang into action, the tip of his staff blazing with crackling purple light as he swept it along the ground, unleashing a phantasmal wave of energy that swept across the sandy soil like a tidal wave. Zerek took a step forward, holding out his shield, ready to defend himself. Just before it struck, Zerek dashed into the wave, projecting a bubble of frozen time from his shield to break through the torrent of magic. As he emerged from the wave, Zerek called out to August,

"What was that supposed to accomplish? You know damn well such a diffuse attack won't penetrate my defences”.

But as he scanned the battlefield August wasn't anywhere to be seen, a distraction then. Still, wasteful if all he wanted to do was break line of sight, kicking up a cloud of dust would accomplish the same thing. Anticipating an imminent attack, Zerek plunged his sword into the ground and quickly drew a glowing circle into the soil. He concentrated for a moment and the glowing image of a well of precognition formed beneath him, a ticking sound echoed in his ears as time unwound before him. August would attack... -NOW! Zerek dodged to the right as his apprentice appeared from nothing and unleased a blast of telekinetic force that hurtled past the older mesmer, missing him and smashing into the far wall. Zerek quickly spun to face August and leapt at his apprentice, lunging with his blade forward. August quickly teleported backward, leaving a illusory copy behind that was rent in two as Zerek landed and slashed at the clone. At the same time a phantasmal copy of the mesmer emerged and lunged at the real August, who was readying another spell. August deflected the phantasm's blade with a burst of telekinetic power, crushing the illusion in his psychic grip. As the phantasm dissipated, there was a flash of purple and August spun around as Zerek blinked forward, ready to strike. August tried to dodge, but off-balance from the phantasmal assault, he was grazed by his master's blade leaving a bleeding gash in his side. Zerek drew back to land the finishing blow and August snarled as his eyes lit up and power swelled up within him. Just as Zerek's sword was about to find its mark, August unleashed the magic. A swirling vortex of agitated ether erupted from him, a crackling chaos storm of immense power that blasted his master back. As Zerek got back on his feet August growled,

"You're not gonna beat me that easily."

And chaos magic burst from his hands, tendrils of opalescent violet magic streaking from his outstretched paws. But they didn't fly towards Zerek, instead shooting across the yard to where another warband was training. Half a dozen charr froze momentarily as they were struck, then like puppets on a string, they jerkily started charging at Zerek.

He growled; would the cub never learn? Zerek focused for a moment as crackling violet magic enveloped him. Chaos magic was inherently destabilising to the fabric of space-time, and with the proper technique one could- Zerek plunged his mind into the timestream, draining out his power to form a rift, a nigh imperceptible anchor to which he could return. Then, he raced forward towards the oncoming charr, their eyes blank and stained with August's magic. Zerek's form blurred as he ran, splitting off into clones to pursue his errant apprentice.

Projecting another protective etheric shell from his shield as the mindjacked charr mobbed him, savagely battering the shield bubble as they mindlessly attempted to attack Zerek. While the shield held, Zerek quickly performed a small flourish with his blade, swirling it in a small circle that, following the movements of the blade, formed itself on the ground. The well of calamity sprang to life as the hands of an eroding phantasmal clock materialized in the centre of the well.

Temporal energy lashed out at the soldiers, their weapons rusted in their paws and their fur greyed out as the weight of history pressed down on them. But just as the well's power reached its zenith, Zerek's concentration was broken by a luminous barrage of iridescent chaos magic that shattered his shielding and smashed into his arm, burning and shocking and freezing all at once. Glancing at where the blow came from Zerek saw August, keeping easily ahead of the clones in pursuit, his staff ablaze with swirling chaos magic. And as August readied another blast, the mindjacked warband started climbing back onto their feet with awkward, jerky motions, newly aged teeth bared. As August fired another salvo of chaos blasts they lunged, and just before their fangs found their mark, Zerek thrust his sword upwards as the sound of distorted ticking filled the air, and he invoked his ultimate magic. An iridescent bubble formed around Zerek and the charr mobbing him. As the time warp took hold everything seemed to slow down, the mind controlled charr's movements rapidly decelerated, as if they were moving through a sea of molasses. And as their seconds stretched out into minutes, Zerek's was compressed into the milliseconds. He easily weaved out of the way of the charr, as if he were taking a stroll along the riverbank. Giving a thought to August's oncoming barrage, Zerek manifested a shield-wielding phantasm as he moved, ready to deflect the oncoming fire. Outside the bubble of altered time, August turned his attention to the clones on his tail, he knew there was no point trying to attack Zerek during that magic. He sidestepped their attacks as a beam of amethystine energy popped them one after another. No matter, they had done their duty, August was almost in position. Inside the time warp, Zerek knelt down at the now inactive well of calamity, transmuting its function, and reactivating it. The phantasmal image of the eroding clock repaired itself, and good as new, it began to tick backwards, undoing the damage of Zerek's assault and the lingering influence of August's mind control. Satisfied that the charr would suffer no lasting harm, Zerek glanced at his apprentice. August stood a good ten paces away, readying his next attack right next to Zerek's continuum rift. A small smile formed on Zerek's face, "Perfect" he thought to himself as he reached back through time to his anchor point, grasped hold of it with his mind, and tugged. From Zerek's perspective, the world shattered into glass and fell away, and he fell, a disembodied mind tumbling through a kaleidoscopic sea of infinite incomprehensible visions of the possible and the impossible before finally emerging back into reality, his body just as it was, refreshed and standing next to a very surprised looking August. August tried to blink away, but Zerek was faster. Without a moment's hesitation he activated the time warp again, and August's nigh instant spell casting stretched into the minutes. Zerek readied his blade, his form blurred as he struck again and again, cutting grazing wounds in August's side, legs and arms before a final blow went straight for August's neck, stopping mere milliseconds before a skewering could take place. Time returned to normal, but the two charr were still locked in place, Zerek's sword placed firmly against August's neck. After a moment so long, it felt like the time warp as still in place, Zerek sheathed his sword and raised his faceplate. August didn't need visual confirmation to see, but Zerek looked very disappointed in him.

"First, once again you relied solely on the raw magic you can bring to bear, using NONE of the spells I've taught you to your advantage. Secondly you broke one of my ONLY rules and attempted to have your lessers fight for you, and thirdly you were so focused on your own magic you neglected to pay attention to your opponents, you should know to pay attention to my chronomancy now, Augustus. It should be obvious, but you fail."

Behind Zerek the thoroughly dazed charr began to rise to their feet, coming to their senses they focused in on August, a look of fury on their faces.

Zerek continued, "Now, get out of my sight and reflect on what you can do better. I'd suggest you do so fast, I won't be helping if your victims catch up to you”.

August, still battered from the sparring match, opened his mouth to say something but, for once, wisely thought better of it and without a word he teleported away.

[kiaroscuro]

Title: as the world caves in

Warnings: descriptions of violence, major character death

Rating: Mature

Main Pairing: Ren Amamiya / Arsene

Main Tags: post-canon, zombie au, angst, hurt / comfort, road trips

· · ─────── =^.^= ─────── · ·

Arsene goes first, this time, leading Ren towards an apartment complex and then to the higher floors, checking any doors they come across until he finds a locked one. The persona tells Ren to wait, breaks the lock, and disappears inside, and Ren bites his lip in guilt because he knows what Arsene is looking for.

"Everything seems safe," he rasps after the third apartment he's done that, wingtips trembling from where they're winched against his back, and Ren steps forward and hugs him tightly, feeling the tense muscles relax marginally. Ren is allowed to enter the apartment, no sight of any dead around -- the door to what he assumes is the bedroom is tightly locked with a chair placed before it as a warning, and Ren can see from the swirling dust that Arsene was the one to place it there. Ren coughs, once, and Arsene is by his side in an instant, mask lighting up and glancing around in worry.

"I'm fine," Ren mutters, dropping his packs onto the ground next to the couch. The apartment is deceptively normal-looking, no mold and no plant-life intruding into its frozen stillness. Arsene drops down unceremoniously onto the couch itself, dematerializing his heels and jacket until he's left in black slacks and his vest and shirt, groaning and brushing the palm of his hand over his mask, head leaning back and exposing the long line of his neck.

"We should go back-- to the market and get thee a box of facemasks... nonetheless," he rasped, voice cracking dangerously. Ren frowns, steps closer -- unheeding of how dirty he is, because that can't be helped -- and ghosts his fingers over the wire-thin line crossing over Arsene's throat, warmer to the touch than the rest of the persona's body temperature.

"Stop talking out loud, Arsene," Ren murmurs. "You're hurt." He brushes over the reminder of how closely he'd gotten to loosing his persona a second time, lips touching the soft, snake-like skin reverently. They've been dancing around each other like gossamer silk for a few weeks now, tightly-woven as all persona and humans are, dependent on one another unlike they'd been before. Ren doesn't find it in himself to care.

Ah, Arsene sighs, inside their shared mind-space this time. It is not good for thou if thou never hear voices out loud, mon cher. It makes thee feel even lonelier.

I'd rather feel lonely than have you lose your voice, pigeon,Ren remarks, softly. There's not much reason for us to talk out loud surrounded by mutated anyways.

Arsene remains tellingly silent, the fire of his eyes dimming until it disappears, and Ren lets him rest while he glances around the apartment, drawing the curtains shut and finding enough candles to both light their room and stow away some for later use. He examines the signs of life surrounding him, peeks into the kitchen and the bathroom both, finds a baseball bat smeared with blood next to the main entrance. Ren lights a candle and places it on the chair in front of the bedroom, the family picture he'd found next to it, and scribbles down on a piece of paper: here lie Daisuke and Ichigo Morimiya.  May they rest in peace.

With that done, Ren sends a prayer to anyone willing to listen -- shadow or false god or real god, it doesn't matter -- before he wanders back to the bathroom, eyeing over the bathtub with a critical glance. Everything is western-style, but they're far away from civilization that the possibility of running water is pretty much halfway split. If he's lucky, a dam generates running water for the town, like back home, and a dam can run for longer without human interference than electrical works. Ren tests it out with a quick flick, and rusty water starts running in spurts before it becomes only slightly pinkish, at which point Ren plugs the bathtub and waits for the water to fill it up; he'll take a bit of rust for the chance to properly wash himself, because the last time had been in Konoe's camp a good ten days ago. He foregoes changing clothes because he has no change on him anyways, and while he could raid the closet of the family, that one's in the bedroom and Ren isn't going to go inside after Arsene made sure that he wouldn't see the bodies.

(It is unbelievably worse, seeing the people dead without any obvious signs of struggle, seeing unmarred bodies but for natural decay instead of gaping wounds on flesh. Even the infected and mutated shadows have become able to bleed and decay, the mutagen turning them into something tangible. Ren's run into unaffected shadows, covering from humans and mutated both, had run into people imprisoning shadows and using their natural abilities like fuel, had seen shadows torture humans to death and vice versa, because everyone was afraid of the strange.)

(A slime had stood vigil next to Morgana's grave with Ren, its soft mass deflated in sorrow. It had slinked away into the forest, and Ren doesn't want to know what had happened to it.)

--

Once the bathtub was filled to half, Ren takes off his crusted and matted layers of clothing, carefully and reverently clasps open his choker -- yellow, because it had been Morgana's collar once, before Ren had threaded a little iron chain into one of the bolt holes and the clasp to make it fit his neck -- and sets everything onto a dusty chair. Two candles illuminate him as he carefully wets a towel and wipes the worst of the grime off of himself, scrubbing at his skin until it is pink and raw, and then Ren carefully enters the tub. The water is freezing and smells metallic, but it is otherwise clean in a way that the rivers hadn't really been, and Ren relaxes inside and watches his skin pebble, traces the scars that cover him. Many are from the Metaverse, his skill in phantom thieving translating into his skills of survival for the ongoing apocalypse that they're having, and not for the first time Ren wonders if all of this is happening as a last huzza for Yaldabaoth, the not-god angry enough at its defeat that it would curse humanity. Many more he's acquired ever since the cataclysm, wounds like the five bitemarks, after each of which Arsene begs with him to be more careful, or all of the smaller and larger cuts he's gotten while he figured out how to survive in a wilderness that is trying to kill him.

Fifteen minutes into Ren's soak, Arsene shuffles into the bathroom, mask dimly lit and wings hanging loosely against his back. There's running water? He thinks-asks, surveying everything. Let me wash thine hair, Ren. He murmurs, and Ren blinks at him, at how wrong-footed the persona looks inside the regular bathroom inside of this regular apartment. Okay, Ren says, turning softly, water sloshing, until he can feel Arsene's claws in his hair. The persona scratches over Ren's scalp once, before he finds the shampoo and lathes it into Ren's dark curls, massaging it in until Ren's eyes droop, heavy with fatigue. Arsene doesn't stop his ministrations, slides his clawed fingers over Ren's shoulders and kneads into the flesh there, the only sound apart of the water his heavy breathing and Arsene's feathers shuffling.

You should also soak, Ren says after a while, turning slightly. It'll do you good.

Mh, is Arsene's answer, the persona stepping aside now that he's got no good excuse to keep touching Ren. Finish first, and then we'll see if there's still running water left. With that he's gone, probably to rummage around the apartment as well. Ren sighs, glances at one of the candles for a long moment, before he turns to find the body wash. It takes him about five minutes to feel clean again, and then he washes out all of the shampoo and carefully exits the tub, lets the water drain down before he starts to fill it up again, after which he starts to dry himself with a second towel. That's about when Arsene reappears, clean (if dusty) clothes in hand, and Ren blinks at the persona in surprise. These should be about thy size, he says, softly, and Ren has no words because Arsene had gone back into the bedroom to get those. I made the bed.

"Thank you," Ren murmurs. Arsene puts the clean clothes down, eyes Ren over critically, and then tugs at the towel still in Ren's hands. Ren lets him, watches as Arsene takes it, clutching it between his claws once before he carefully grabs hold of Ren's cauterized arm and gently towels the red skin dry. Ren knows that the persona feels guilty about it, can feel it himself across their bond, and so he lets Arsene do as he pleases. Claws flitter over Ren's skin before the towel follows, up his arm and over his shoulders and towards his other arm. Arsene holds it apart from Ren's body, gently, while he softly pats over Ren's flank and ribs, his stomach, pivoting around the human to dry his back, the pads of his fingers lingering over a nasty cut from a mutated shadow's garudyne that had hit Ren.

A shudder passes through him, a curl of heat low inside of his belly that has Ren's cheeks flush slightly, but he doesn't interrupt Arsene, stands still while the persona carefully patters the towel over Ren's groin, the soft fabric almost ghosting over his cock before Arsene nudges Ren's legs apart to reach at his testes, cupping each gently and continuing. Ren's breathing and heartbeat are picking up, but he doesn't say anything, the towel at his thighs now, Arsene still as careful as before. Only once he reached Ren's calves did Arsene stop, his mask low-lit, fire curling over his horns. "Thank you, Arsene," Ren murmurs as the persona stands up.

"Always," Arsene whispers, and they look at each other for a moment longer, before the persona turns around to put the towel away. The bathtub is full, too, and Ren watches Arsene dematerialize his clothes before he carefully enters the tub, sitting closer to the middle so that his wings don't get crushed by his body. Some of the tenseness in his shoulders leaves while Arsene moves to hug his knees, resting his head on top of them, one wing extended while the other is winched in. He looks tired as well, obsidian skin marred and discolored in patches, specks of white that hadn't been there before. They share the metaphysical scars on Ren's soul, after all, all of the ugly things, and Arsene's own conscience has him become mottled, their shared guilt over having to kill people a heavy weight to bear.

Leave, please, Arsene says, a breath of a thought, and Ren nods after ghosting his fingers along the lines of his flight feathers.

He exits the bathroom, closes the door slightly to allow Arsene more privacy because the persona is vain about his looks and currently ashamed of his appearance and actions, and turns towards the Morimiya's pantry in hopes of finding something edible so that he can stretch his own rations further. Ren's found some slightly stale crackers and beef pâté, both of which would suffice as dinner. He'll have to probably cook something tomorrow, but he doesn't want to disrupt the strange silence of the night. By the time he's eaten his food Arsene emerged, and Ren is staring at the couch -- now with a duvet and two pillows. The chair to the bedroom had been disturbed. "Do you think the couch can be opened?" He asks.

Arsene blinks placidly. Yes. I can also simply dematerialize, though.

Ren knows, but also... Stay. I don't want to be alone tonight.

(They end up huddled together, Arsene on his side and Ren curled into the crook of his elbow, covered in both the duvet and one wing, and it's the best rest he's had in a long while.)

First << >> Next

[2n2n]

What do you think about this art??

What covers tsukasa's mouth ?? 👇👇

Tsukasa is simply wearing a black face mask! I wonder why ... ? secrets under there ... ? I think there are secrets under there

what I think about this art is

porno girl hentai girl tsukasa girl in a porno porno girl slut girl slut tsukasa porno girl tsukasa

but you probably don't want to hear about that ....

I will try to control myself (?)

MAHOU SHOUJO NENE!

lots to unpack here I hope we get. More art of this AU so we can understand Any of it.

It appears as if Tsuchigomori and Yako are kind of power-granting mascots ala the usual for magical girls ? Tsuchigomori is the same colorscheme as Amane's tsueshiro …. purple and red? So… I guess they are in some way … involved … ? The Tsueshiro not being green/red is killing me. It's never changed colors before. It's changed shape (and only in Valentine's event I believe, where the boys are specifically some sort of heart/love demons...), but ....

It is interesting Amane + Tsukasa are paired, and Amane is more or less on the side of the Broadcast Club...? Maybe incidentally, but eh you know ... Bad Guys Side....

Amane is definitely simply The Bad Guy like he typically is in AUs, so charming of him... it feels like Tsukasa giddily stans him and watches him strut his stuff .... ♥

Amane is once again wearing a collar. Why? It's killing me. He wears a collar in Valentine's event, too… please … Amane… what are you trying to represent? In the Ryokan event, AmaTsu wear matching collars, too, though of course, Amane was wearing his first, being a cat …

the symbolism of this … ? the potential ..... shrivels me to dust. I can barely think about it ....

I have no idea what the boys are meant to be, I will leave it up to someone smarter to sus it out ... my first guess was jiāngshī ?? because of the hat ??? being ghosts, and being possible as a result of suicide, and well, Amane's been a vampire and other ghouls, it feels 'on par' with what he becomes in AUs ... but that's a very ignorant guess, doesn't at all touch on the horns or jewels, which I don't recognize ... they could just be ... something made up ....or a bug I don't know about ... i don't know ... ! Ignorance ... Ignorance me....

but ugh, it is making me think about the boys as corpses in different conditions, which I would love... if Tsukasa's facemask was hiding more gruesome mutilation, or something. I love when Tsukasa is visibly more messed up than Amane ... ♥ it's kinda how I feel it 'is' in canon deep down ... and in things like Ghost Hotel, Tsukasa might be missing some fingers ... would really love a Tsukasa with some permanent, frozen-in-time-of-death wounds courtesy of Amane... ♥

Unfortunately though Nene-chan herself is not very interesting to me here visually x''''l me and Aida-sensei have such different tastes WRT magical girl attire ... I don't like any of this look, beyond the asymmetrical socks ... I simply hope Amane manipulates her into feeling like a hero while actually enabling his own destructive plans, just like in canon. Make her destroy some sacred jewels or something....

The uh, Teen School AU with the magic also has a magical girl element and THAT Nene-chan looks so atrocious to me, absolutely the worst look, hate it toe to tip, im SO sorry Aida-sensei ... your idea of 'magical girl' is just so x''''''l no... I hope more art happens so I can see.... normal girl Nene-chan in this AU.... I mean Teen School has such a Bad magical Nene-chan but I LOOOOOOOVE NORMAL CHEERLEADER NENE-CHAN IN THAT AU!!!!! so mnngh h... please ... the twins are so hot I want a hot Nene-chan for them.....

every time Teru/Kou are just cops in AUs it is Funny. Yeah. I need to make a compilation sometime of every AU they just translate into, detectives, or, cops. All these STUPID MINAMOTO ARE . here to ARREST EVERYONE . here to PROFILE!!!!! GOD. so direct with AUs. we just make Amane some sort of monster villain, and the Minamoto cops.

I feel Nothing about Shijima Mei being here I'm sorry girl. Mitsuba I'm also sorry girl I, there's just this major slut happening on the other side of the picture I can't think about anything else. Not sorry to Sakura though she looks like a beautiful unicorn :) thats so nice ... I do have a little room to think about that :D

and lastly. A... AidaIro sensei is this ... is this you?

it's absolutely not black canyon or white inferno who are gray and white respectively .... I .... ?

[hollowedskin]

Tips from a swamp dwelling Australian:

In high humidity an evaporative cooler does nothing. Waste of money. Yes they will still sell them in places that they won't work, and even label them as air conditioners. but if it's not a proper air conditioner it won't work in humidity at all. Avoid anything that uses evaporation to cool, they cool the air by adding humidity, so in high humidity they don't do anything at all. Double check anything that seems surprisingly cheap for an aircon.

Having sweat turn to grease on your skin will make you feel hotter than if your skin is clean, so if it's available jump in the shower and rinse off.

In summer I can take up to 5 quick showers in a day. You don't need to use soap for every one, and if you do you may give yourself dermatitis.

If you're home, you can stick your phone in a ziplock bag and get into the bath. I spend a lot of time in the bath in summer. If you don't have a bath, even sitting in a few cm of water in the shower will help, and will help more if you bring a fan in.

If you don't have AC but you do have a fan, Buy a bunch of freezer blocks, freeze them, and stick one in front of the fan in a bowl to catch the condensation. It will cool the fan air down by a few degrees when you're in front of it. Replace the freezy bricks as needed.

If you're busty, you want those puppies lifted. They're insulating when they fold over the chest and you can get excruciating heat rash under them. Padded bras will also insulate, your best bet is a mesh bra. Yeah even if it's lingerie. I wear my lingerie in summer with a pair of old shorts, the difference having the titties lifted and with airflow is huge. Elomi make good mesh ones in a huge size range. Second best would be a sports bra, but you want them lifted and separated though, they can hold a lot of heat against your body when they're in monoboob form.

You can get some bad skin infections in high humidity in places where the skin folds and touches, if you're finding you are getting sensitive red patches in like the crease of your crotch, under your boobs, or under your stomach then you should use an antifungal powder before it gets raw. The stuff they make for jock itch/tinea is very good for that and also helps with skin rubbing.

For sleeping, I've got gel cooling pillows and bamboo sheets, as well as a gel facemask that I turn backwards so the cooling part is on the back of my head. You can also use soft cold packs on the back of your head, or rest them on your forehead. When your head and feet are cooler it can help with actually getting sleep, and bamboo sheets dont trap heat. I wouldn't use frozen cold packs on your head, just chilled.

Good luck!

For all of the northerners that stood up for Texas during our freeze and said, "Don't make fun of them, they've never dealt with this before. Their infrastructure isn't made for snow and freezing."

This one is for you.

Where I live 108°F with 80% humidity with no wind is normal.

Pacific North West is dealing historic best waves 35-40°C or 95-105°F.

First of all. Don't make fun of them for bitching about the heat. Just like Texas isn't built for a freeze and our pipes burst, Pacific North West isn't built for heat and a lot of their homes don't have AC.

If you live somewhere with a high humidity like 80+ HUMIDITY IS NOT YOUR FRIEND. The "humidity makes it feel cooler" is a lie once it gets beyond a point.

If you live somewhere with a lower humidity, misters are nice to cool off outside.

Once you get over 90°F (32°C) a fan will not help you. It's just pushing around hot air. (I mean if you can't afford a small AC unit because they're expensive as hell, by all means a fan is better than nothing).

If you have pets, those portable AC units aren't safe. If your pets destroy the outtake thing, it'll leak CO2. Window units are safer.

Window AC units will let mosquitoes or other small bugs in. Sucks, but that's life.

Now is not the time to me modest. If you have to cover for religious reasons, by all means. If you don't, I've seen people wear short shorts and a swim top. It's not trashy if it keeps you from getting heat stroke.

If you do have to cover up for religious reasons, look for elephant pants or something similar. They're made with a breathable material.

Shade is better than no shade, but that shit it just diet sun after some point. Don't think shade will save you from heat stroke.

I know the "drink your water" is a fun meme now, but if you're sweating excessively you need electrolytes. Drink Gatorade, Powerade, or Pedialite PLEASE. I don't care if you're fucking sitting in one spot all day. That shit WILL save you from heat stroke.

Most importantly. RESEARCH THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN HEAT STROKE AND HEAT EXHAUSTION PLEASE!

If you're diabetic and can't drink Gatorade, mix water, fruit juice, and either lite salt or pink salt

If you can afford it, cover windows with thick curtains to insulate the house

If you have tile floors, lay on them with skin to tile contact. If you don't, laying your head on cool counters works too.

If the temperature where you're at is hotter than your body temperature, don't wear heat wicking clothing. Moisture wicking is safe though.

Check your medication labels. Many make you more susceptible to sun and heat

-Room temperature water will get into your body faster. This is something I learned doing marching band in high summer in Georgia, and it saved all of our asses. Sip it, don't gulp it, especially if you're getting into the red; same goes for whatever fluid you're drinking. And just in general drink during the day.

-If you are moving from an air conditioned space to an un-air conditioned space, if at all possible try to make the shift gradual. When my dad and I were working outside and in un-ac houses a few years ago, he'd turn the air down to low in the truck about ten-fifteen minutes before we got where we were going. This way your body doesn't go from low low temps to high temps. S'bad for you.

-If you can, keep your lights off during the day. Light bulbs may not generate a lot of heat, but the difference is noticeable when it gets hot enough. I literally only turn my bedroom light on in the evening when it gets too dark.

Don't be afraid to just like... pour water on yourself if you need to. The evaporation will cool you off.

Put your hand to the cement for 15 seconds. If you can't handle the heat, it'll burn your dog's paws. Don't let them walk on it.

Dogs with flat faces are more prone to heat stroke. Don't leave them out unsupervised.

Frozen fruit is delicious in water.

Wet/Cold hat/handkerchief on your head/neck will help you stay cool.

Pickle juice is great for electrolytes! You can even make pickle juice Popsicles!

Heat exhaustion is more, "drink water and get you cooled off." Heat stroke is more "Oh my god call 911."

Image Description provided by @loveize

[Image description: an infographic showing the difference between heat exhaustion and heat stroke. The graphic is labeled "Heat Dangers: First Warning." Signs of heat exhaustion: faint or dizzy, excessive sweating, cool, pale, clammy skin, rapid, weak pulse, muscle cramps. If you think you or someone else may be experiencing heat exhaustion, get to a cool, air-conditioned place, drink water if conscious, and take a cool shower or use cold compress. Signs of heat stroke: throbbing headache, no sweating, red, hot, dry skin, rapid, strong pulse, may lose consciousness. If you think you or someone else may be experiencing heat stroke, call 911. End description]

Be safe.

-fae

[cymorilcinnamonroll]

Lucifer Makes Minimum Wage at Trader Joe's

Eve forces her Gen Z situationship World of Warcraft addict, Lucifer, to move out of her basement and work at Trader Joe's. Lucifer discovers capitalism, the woes of retail, and tries to implement 401ks in Hell in time for a jolly Easter.

Work Text:

“Lucifer, can you stop molting? I have to study for my dissertation,” Eve said, examining hawk skulls in her makeshift kitchen laboratory as her immortal demon boyfriend was preening.

“I can’t help it, Eveling-

“THAT’S NOT MY NAME.”

Lucifer shot her poison blue irises: “Heh. Well, you see, ‘tis my brother Christ’s time to be Harrowed in Hell, and I must suffer our wager-

“That’s great Lu, but you’re late on our half of rent for our townhouse. Grad school TAing doesn’t pay well, and you keep ordering Chinese takeout.”

“I am paid in blood, Eve.” Lucifer strummed his guitar, his lithe, tall, pale form dressed in ripped, faded acid wash jeans, an old black band tee, and combat boots.

“Could you get a job at Trader Joe’s, Lu?” Eve looked at him under her fringe of blonde bangs. She said it kindly. “You’re kind of a bum.”

He harrumphed, strumming a vibrato. “But Beelzebub and I have band practice,” Lucifer complained, his long, dark black hair a shadowy fringe on his face.

“I’ll let you get a hound finally, if you work.”

“DEAL.”

*

Lucifer had trouble fitting his bat wings under a peppy Trader Joe’s shirt. He grunted, annoyed that his talons kept shredding the Two Buck Chuck he was trying to bag.

“You’re such a handsome young teenager, darling,” a bespectacled elderly Korean auntie said in dulcet tones, handing him some tacos to bag.

“Thanks, but I’m older than God’s Light upon Creation.” He smiled seductively. “Say, Jeihon. How about I give your wastrel son a winning lottery ticket to take care of you in your old age in return for your soul?”

“That’s okay, little boy. I have a 401k and pension.”

Lucifer rang up the tacos. “What is this strange talk? 401k? Pension? I have never heard of such odious languages and portents and omens.”

Jeihon patted his clawed hands. “Yes, child, well, they came with being Postmaster. Have a good day, and maybe cut your hair.”

“Long hair in hell signals virility.”

“Yes, I am sure virility is important to attract girls at your middle school. Here, have this you precious boy. I make them at church.” She slipped a jade bead bracelet onto his wrist with a meditation symbol and bell on it, then left, shuffling off with her tacos.

“Perplexing,” Lucifer said, turned in his timecard, then mounted his Hellbeast and rode the midnight road of sinners and burning souls back to his townhouse in Centreville.

*

“Eve, what is a 401k.”

Eve looked past pinnate feathers from a dissected, frozen toucan after comparing them. “Oh, you know Lu. Retirement.”

Lucifer frowned over cooking ramen. “The woman at Trader Joe’s said the strangest thing: the American government not only provides her contributions to her 401k, but a pension.”

Eve looked up from her calipers. “Oh, well, so does the Smithsonian and my grad department. It’s pretty standard, honey.”

“I would think to implement a “401k” and “pension” with my Prime Minister Beelzebub in Hell.”

Eve gently set her studies down, then went into the kitchen to chop chives for the ramen. “That’s very forward-thinking as Emperor of Hell. I was also very impressed when you stopped torturing souls after I said they could be better put to use at assembly lines for pitchforks.”

“Our pitchfork-to-coal-pipeline rate has done well under your auspices, allowing fire imps supplies to keep the fires of Hell burning.”

She threw the chopped chives into his pot as he stirred in sauce, then kissed him on his pale neck. He burbled with a moan, then pinned her on the floor, had his way with her as much as she devoured him, right there as usual on the tile.

Just in time, they came for the ramen to almost bubble over. Then, Lucifer and Eve did facemasks, ate mint chocolate chip Ben and Jerry’s, and watched Twilight.

*

“What do you mean, a retirement system? You’re beginning to sound like an idiot human,” Beelzebub mused, laughing as they smoked an apple bong in Eve’s garage.

“Pass it, bro,” Lucifer said, and Beelzebub withdrew the apple bong from his mandible and strummed his white Gibson, plucking an arpeggio.

They jammed, then discussed retirement. It wasn’t long until Penemue approved the new system in his Clerical Department, and Lucifer and Beelzebub couldn’t imagine Hell without a guaranteed pension plan for its most valued elderly demon employees.

*

At the Harrowing of Hell, Christ and Lucifer were playing Mario Kart as they both shed their wings and drank Pilsners in Eve’s basement.

“Fuck I hate molting,” Jesus said.

“Yeah no shit,” Lucifer sighed, rubbing his scales on his wings. “Fuck Rainbow Road.”

“Let’s do Peach Beach, dude,” Jesus said, eating some Cheetos. “Fuck the Harrowing.”

Eve wandered in, a kestrel feather in hand, plate of strawberry cake in the other. “Desert, darlings.” She handed it to them.

“Thanks, Chavah,” Jesus said, saluting her. “Say, you’re really humanizing my twin Satan. Seriously. No more torture. A pension system in Hell. Next, he’ll become Christian.”

Lucifer fingered Jiehon’s church-made bracelet, smiling at the cool touch of jade under his talons: “I think I prefer Buddhism, and the faith I find in people working at Trader Joe’s.”

“It was all him, Yesh.” Eve smiled, muttered about bird mating, then left, her glasses askew.

“I kind of like humans, after all,” Lucifer admitted. “But I hate Taylor Swift. Eve won’t shut the fuck up about her.”

“Hell yeah, man. Doom metal all the way.” Jesus fist bumped him, and they ate

Strawberry

Cake.

[healthybestnews]

10 Effective Home Remedies to Clear up Acne Naturally

Tea Tree Oil: • Tea tree oil is a natural antibacterial and anti-inflammatory agent. • Its anti-inflammatory properties can reduce swelling and redness of pimples.

Apple Cider Vinegar: • Although scientific evidence is limited, apple cider vinegar has been used as a natural acne treatment. • The citric acid in apple cider vinegar may help combat P. acnes bacteria when combined with other treatments.

Grapes: • Grapes can be used as a refreshing acne treatment. • Whether eaten plain, halved as a salad topping, or frozen as a healthy dessert, grapes may have beneficial effects on the skin.

Cucumber: • Cucumber can be used in various forms, such as a facemask or face pack. • Its soothing properties may help reduce inflammation and calm acne-prone skin.

Honey:

Read More information Click this link.

https://healthybestnews.blogspot.com