#skel: closed

[darlingeames]

i know gabriel can’t remember anything but crowley going off on him and being so angry at him for how he told (crowley)aziraphale to shut his stupid mouth and die already is soooooo. and crowley never told aziraphale this but he didn’t even need to because maybe the demons tried to obliterate crowley, sure, but they’re demons. gabriel is an archangel, he's supposed to be one of the 'good' guys, and he tried to completely destroy aziraphale and crowley was there and he saw it and he’s so. so. so angry at gabriel. you told my only friend to shut his mouth and die. the ‘i will never forgive you and the only reason you’re not dead right now is because i know that would hurt aziraphale and i don’t need to cause him any more pain’ is heavily implied

#just. he's so hurt on behalf on his angel. good thing he's wearing glasses because his look would turn gabriel into dust #when nina questioned him about his relationship with aziraphale the whole sky broke into a million pieces and fell on him #and he got drunk and now he's this close to strangling gabriel for what he did to his only friend. #i still don't feel like this season is real for multiple reasons. but sure. #skel watches #good omens s2 #good omens

[armoredsuperheavy]

MASTERS OF THE UNIVERSE: An Insufferably Queer Film Review

I rewatched MASTERS OF THE UNIVERSE (1987) for the first time since it came out last night and WOW I have some thots about this thing. We enjoyed roasting the living shit out of it but there's a few gold nuggets in there despite the brutal budget cuts that impacted the plot and what not.

Contains plenty of spoilers.

God bless Wardrobe

OK so … the film doesn't bother to set up any real motivations for the characters, and He-Man (an incredible looking Dolph Lundgren rrrowrrrr) has almost no dialogue which is such a fucking waste. But this complete lack of narrative framework means we can apply OUR OWN explanations to events.

From the very beginning Skeletor has this obsession with He-Man, which will simmer and then culminate in a final showdown. But before we get to that hot mess, we have to wade through the middle of the film.

He gets as much screen time as He-Man.

Meet the utterly repulsive dwarf scientist Gwildor played by Billy Barty, a rinse-and-repeat of his performance as an utterly repulsive magic troll in Legend (1986). This dwarf is the film's Jar Jar. His face is like a deep dish pizza after an acid attack. His real mouth is visible behind the immobile thick prosthetics and it makes for some truly disturbing close-up dialogue shots. Please, pan away from Pizza the Hutt and give us another shot of Lundgren's pecs please I am begging you, DP

We find ourselves in Gwildor's hobbit hole, and he's a magical inventor. So he has this cylindrical object, it's not clear whether it's a weapon or a teleporter but I'm calling it the Butt-Reamer 9000. Inexplicably, there are two of these things and Skeletor has the other one, and wants to collect both of them. So Skeletor has an excuse to go hunting He-Man as he's hunting his missing McGuffin, er I mean sex toy.

Features rotating ticklers, a big improvement over the Butt Reamer 8000.

The thing about the Butt-Reamer 9000 is its magical power to make even this promising setup devolve into a grind as it whisks the Eternians into the magical, enchanting world of a 1987 New Jersey parking lot. WHO WROTE THIS?

The entire middle of the movie is pretty much hot garbage and involves police detectives, arson, vandalism, high school prom, and other dumb bullshit. Aside from the distractingly naked He-Man, the good guys are an utter bore and include some Eternians, some regular Earth humans and their quotidian concerns which really brings down the fun of the movie. (No, baby Courtney Cox, I don't care about your imminent breakup with your mediocre boyfriend!)

The film owes a second mortgage to Star Wars and steals a lot of ideas from it, from bad guys in shiny black stormtrooper helmets, to heroes shooting blue lasers, baddies shooting red.

Let's turn from this depressing state of affairs and focus back on our cherished villain blorbos.

(L-R: Karg, Evil-Lyn our goddess, and Blade.)

Evil-Lyn is beautiful, evil, a cold bitch queen. Gurl you can do so much better than sticking with this loser Skeletor.

Dump! Him! He's gay anyway!

Skeletor is a shit lazy boss of Greyskull and makes Evil-Lyn run the goddamn place in general. He literally shoots the messenger at one point. Great for morale, there, Skel buddy.

Look closer. Fierce!

There's a number of budget rate henchmen on the job, including Karg, who used a whole can of aqua net this morning and is running around in a white fur capelet with a massive bouffant. He is just doing his best okay, really it's hard to look fabulous around these other bitches.

Blade definitely deserved more screen time

Also, Blade, who had a slutty costume of silvery scale maille or something, and was a bit like a sci-fi bondage Riff Raff / space Judas Priest. Best side character costume.

So, there we have it, the queer coded villain roster of the film.

This homemade collage is for sure taped inside Skeletor's locker at school

Note the gigantic brown eye.

Finally, thank Satan, we return to Castle Greyskull, though it's more like beige-and-brown-skull. But aside from the questionable use of faux marble finishes, this is a quality villain lair with hard points installed directly in the floor of the living room, convenient death pits, and an excellent throne setup that I'm pretty sure they recycled for The Fifth Element.

He-Man is captured alive and brought before Skeletor. Blade does the honors with a 15 foot glowing red bullwhip to He-Man's naked and oiled back, much to the delight of dyed-in-the-wool sadist Evil-Lyn.

Movie is getting good now. Was the side quest to Jersey really necessary?

Skeletor, though, watches this action from the throne and has a lot of interesting responses. We had to conclude that Skeletor is a big old bottom but won't admit it. As a dom he is utterly ineffective. He's trying to make He-man kneel and all this shit but He-Man is not submissive at all. Skeletor is … lol. He really just wants to smell He-Man's dick.

The depths (heh) of his bottom nature will become apparent shortly. But first, a costume change.

Skeletor's glow up --- i'm every woman.

Honey we know you're just trying to impress He-man.

Werk tho.

Indiana Jones and the Temple of Hole

The gigantic sky-sphincter directly behind the throne has slid open wide… "Begin! The Goatse Ritual! Join me, He-Man, as I become LORD OF THE GAPE" But He-Man's phallic symbol shines bright in defiance. In the end, Skeletor is vanquished symbolically by his own nature and instead of his hole swallowing He-Man, a gaping hole swallows Skeletor instead.

They don't really explain what happened to Evil-Lyn after He-Man's inevitable victory in final man to man combat but she was too smart to get caught sleeping in there and must have survived. What a hot evil competent BABE. After the events of the film end, I vote that Evil-Lyn seduces Teela (the good guy solder lady) and has a hot toxic lesbian affair with her.

Evil-Lyn serves cunt in hell 4 evar

Thanks for coming to my Ted Talk.

Want some more?

Nice fanart

Another breakdown on Buzzfeed if you enjoyed mine this is even more gay headcanon

The movie is free on Tubi if you want to subject yourself to it.

ArmoredSuperHeavy, 19 Aug 2023

#motu #he man #skeletor #evil lyn #movies #movie review #80s movies #camp #queer coded villains

[on-a-lucky-tide]

(Eskel & Geralt, Eskel/Geralt if you squint; young wolves, first time with potions, Eskel's Canonical Strength with Signs; an interpretation. Rated: T)

His skull felt tight. Like it was closing in around his mind, a vice crushing his thoughts, his consciousness. The thundering rush in his ears made him feel dizzy and the heat under his skin made him feel skittish. His heart beat an erratic rhythm against his rib cage, and Eskel felt like he was spinning, but stuck. Rooted to the spot as the world crashed in around him, control slipping through his fingers, torn away by some unseen force.

Yet, beneath it all—beneath the terror, the burning—there was a rush. Something gleeful writhed around in his chest, desperate to get free even though he tried to press it down. Something wanted to burst out of him, break through his grip, burst forth into the world and—

They had said Thunderbolt was different from the others. It lets the monster out good and proper, Varin had slurred around the chipped rim of his mug the previous night. Some hate it, most deal with it, and then some sick fucks enjoy it a little too much. At that, Varin glanced at the large sword hanging over the fireplace. The one that Master Barmin used on those that weren’t safe to be let out on the Path.

The uneasiness had roiled in Eskel’s stomach for the rest of the evening until it had erupted in the bowl under his bed and Gweld had thrown a pillow at him in disgust—learn to hold yer liquor, Skel, fu-u-uck—before shoving his head under the remaining one.

Was Eskel a sick fuck? Was he one of those that they’d put down before letting the rest of his cohort onto the Path? Was that feeling—? Was it—?

“—he’s grunting like an animal—“

“Give him time. Thunderbolt’s always the hardest. Lad’s doing fine.”

There were others in the room; Master Vesemir, as Eskel belonged to his crop of trainees, and more than one mage. They were scared of what Thunderbolt would do to him. Eskel could smell their fear on the air even now, along with the fetid shit from the lavvies, the cooking meat in the kitchens, all of it made his stomach roil once more. The acidic, bitter taste hit the back of his throat, and every muscle pulled taut. Their muttering grew louder, bouncing around his head until it was an unintelligible crescendo.

“He’s losing control…”

“Easy, easy, let him go, let him try.” 

The second voice sounded less certain. The chattering grew louder, louder. The voices crushed in on him, pressing down, tightening the grip around his head. Heat. Pressure. Burning. 

The fire flooded down from his head, from his chest, swept down his arms, and swirled around his palms. Flames lapped his flesh, singed the hairs on the back of his arms; molten dragon fire poured from his palms.

“He’s—that’s—this needs to stop—“

“No, no, wait. Wait!”

A familiar voice. The first that didn’t feel like a lash against his mind, but a familiar caress. A voice that had drawn him out of the stupor following the Trial of Dreams. A voice that had rescued him from every nightmare, every fear, every uncertainty, since Eskel had first stumbled through the tall gates of the keep, bare foot and wide-eyed, clutching his only possession to his chest; a moth-eaten bedroll. 

Two strong hands shoved against his chest, insistent, repeated. “Wait! Wait, don’t! I can get him back!” 

The shoves became harder. Eskel wanted to shout out, to tell the voice that it wasn’t safe, that something was tearing it out of him and it would consume them both. But whatever it was, whatever darkness, had secured its grip around his throat and the words faded before they had even been born. All he could do then was surrender.

But if he surrendered, the beast would get free. It would devour him and everyone in its Path. Like hellfire.

“Eskel, c’mon! C’mon, move, you big oaf! Move!”

Oaf. 

Two boys splashing in the lake, Eskel cannon-balling and creating a tidal wave, “ahh, you coulda drowned me!” said in jest, a light-hearted slap of water, “big oaf,” said with love, with warmth, with trust. Trust that Eskel would never hurt him. Could never. 

“C’mon, Eskel. Come back to me. Don’t you dare fuckin’--don’t you dare leave me, Eskel.”

A hand in his as they stared at a tall, foreboding door, their fates unknown. Those spindly fingers, callused from swords and chores, squeezed as firmly as they could. “Don’t you dare leave me,” whispered, desperate and fearful, and Eskel squeezed back, “I won’t.” 

A promise kept. 

Eskel went lax. He stumbled. His back hit a door which gave way behind him. The ground underfoot became slippery, like mineral grease on a steel blade.

A rush of cold flooded in, washing the brimstone away, water drops like pins against the searing heat of his skin. He fell. They fell. Because, just as the cold stone connected with Eskel’s rear, a heavy, warm weight fell on his front. 

The pin needles turned to rain drops.

It was raining.

Hot breath puffed over his lips, a solid pressure against his forehead, a brush against his nose.

Eskel opened his eyes. 

The faded grey light melted away, and two orbs of melted gold gazed into his. “There you are.”

Geralt.

“Don’t speak, it’s okay, I’ve got you.”

Eskel must have said it out loud. He leaned back and looked down. There was steam rising from his hands, hot where they rested against the slick flagstones of the courtyard. There were blurry figures standing in the doorway of the laboratory, the colours of their robes melded into one, anxious voices swimming in and out.

His body felt alien, detached. Like he was pulling it back on after someone else had worn it. “What… happened?” he managed to rasp, the words flowing from his throat like gravel.

Geralt took his face in wet fingers, tips tracing the trail of boyish stubble to the hinge of his jaw. “Nearly had a bigger storm than the mages predicted. It’s fine though. Thunder’s always followed by rain, right?” 

Geralt pressed his forehead to Eskel’s again, they shared the same deep breaths, grounded in each other, their hammering pulses slowing, quietening in the lull of comfort. 

Eskel knew then that Geralt had saved his life. If Eskel couldn’t control himself on Thunderbolt, he wouldn’t be leaving Kaer Morhen. It was too much of a risk. 

“You could have… I could have…” Eskel choked out, the vision of Geralt consumed in flames of his making flooding his mind.

“You could never,” Geralt replied, his voice a soft, the touch on Eskel’s face wandering, as if seeking reassurance that he was still intact. “Not you. Not ever.”

Eskel could see himself in Geralt’s wide eyes. Black hair plastered to his skull, the rain dripping from his wide brow and nose, his own eyes sunken with fear. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” “Nothin’, nothin’s wrong with you, you’re jus’ Eskel. We’ll get through this. You and me. Like always. We’ll try again, and… and you’ll get it. Then we’ll, we’ll walk out together on the Path, like we always planned, yeah?”

Eskel could hear the hope in Geralt’s voice, but he could see the fear in his eyes–fear of losing Eskel, fear of going it all alone, fear that he wouldn’t be strong enough to get them through–and Eskel knew he couldn’t fail.

“Yeah,” he whispered back, letting his eyes fall shut so he could bask in the chill of the rain and the gentle warmth of Geralt’s touch. “Together.”

#witcher eskel #geralt of rivia #young wolves #fic #the witcher #tw3

[themagicalkidproject]

could i request a rotmistress magical boy? thank you in advance!!

This Magical Kid was requested by Anonymous! Alt Text done by my friend @nerdiwolverine, I only edited it!

Rotmistress is a term and flag coined by @gender-darling describing a gendermistress subset wherein one’s gender is related to being a rot mistress, a rotting mistress, a mistress of rot, etc!

This Magical Kid has a Eveningwear/Morbid Theme! He uses They/He Pronouns and Rot/Rots/Rotself, Gore/Gores/Goreself, Slash/Slashes/Slasheself, and Skel/Skele/Skels/Skeles/Skeleself Neopronouns!

Rots name is Havok, after horror author Rayne Havok! They can rot anything they touch- living things start to fester and rot, concrete crumbles, food spoils, etc. this only happens if skel wills it tho, which is good because otherwise they’d be rotting their teammates left and right. Havok’s surprisingly touchy feely for someone with a ‘Morbid’ theme.

Rots Magical Kid weapons are ten throwing knives somehow hidden in their garters. Havok can summon the knives back to his garter after they’ve made contact.

A useless fact about slash is that slash is fiercely protective of slashes teammates, to the point that they’ve been affectionally dubbed a mom friend. Havok doesn’t usually get along with other Magical Kids, however, but that’s due to his own awkwardness talking to strangers or people younger than him.

This Magical Kid was Saved!

The Magical Kid Project is a project wherein I steadily turn Pride Flags into Magical Kids! Requests are closed for now! Commission info is under the #commissions tag, I have a deal on Magical Kid Portraits!

#the magical kid project #artists on tumblr #pride flag #digital art #original art #lgbt pride #lgbt #lgbtq #gendermistress #rotmistress

[rays-of-fire-and-ice]

On the Shoreline

Hitsuhina Week: Day 6 - Something beautiful / Waves

Prompts: Waves, stars, vacation together

Rating: K/General but with mild themes

Setting: some time after the No Breaths From Hell oneshot

Synopsis: Upon Momo’s suggestion, Toshiro joins her and a group for a break at a seaside town. However, with his mind is heavy with recent revelations, he wonders why they are all there.

AN: Once again, I’m writing something for both @yearoftheotpevent's challenge and Hitsuhina Week.

This really started as one thing and completely transformed into something else! I was intending to do a short piece about Toshiro and Momo taking some time to relax at a beach, but nope, the angst had to get in there and not only make this fic longer, but change the whole story.

Do I think the Shinigami would actual do this after the events of the No Breaths From Hell one shot? Nope, but I wanted to try it out anyway.

In terms of music while listening I can recommend (in no particular order): Recollection 1-3 , World #07 Blues, going home, and compassion by Shiro Sagisu from the BLEACH osts, And She Translated into Sky by Levi Patel (Spotify or YT) , and Skel and Andra by Sigur Ros (Spotify or YT). If I had to recommend when to listen to these songs, I only three I feel strongly about are listening to And She Translated into Sky, Skel, and Andra in the last section of the fic, where Toshiro and Momo are walking on the beach ;)

Hope you all enjoy it!

__________________________________

Toshiro watches the heat sizzle on the horizon. Despite the sweat dripping down his temple, he doesn’t wave the uchiwa with any vigor. Eventually, he glares at the few clouds in the sky, all too far away to block the sun.

“Why did they have to pick a damn beach of all places?” he grumbles.

He tries to ignore the commotion going on inside, where everyone is trying to decide who is going to stay in which room. He should be in there, but it’ll only irritate him further, and for once it wouldn't just be from everyone’s usual antics and pointless arguing.

It had been a two months, but how can they all be acting like this after what happened?

He tilts his head down and waves his fan faster. He knows everyone has their ways of coping with things, but he'd have thought there would still be some discussion about what happened, even if it was only in passing. Why does it feel like he's the only one stuck on the revelations that came?

The door slides open and Rangiku pokes her head out, looking to the left, and then meeting his gaze when she swivels her head to the right. “There you are! What’re you doing out here?”

Toshiro pushes himself off the wall. “Are you all done in there?” he asks dryly.

“Yeah, everything is sorted.” She grins as if all the arguing hadn’t just occurred. “You know it’s cooler inside, right? When did you leave?”

“Doesn’t matter. Which room am I in?”

Rangiku huffs and steps out of the foyer, closing the door behind her. “I get that it’s hot, Captain, but you really need to relax.”

“I only came because they needed someone to supervise all of you.” That’s not entirely true, and she knows it. It had been Momo who invited him, Rangiku and Granny who encouraged him to accept, and Shunsui who had assigned him and Rukia with watching over everyone – all the while grinning and lamenting that it had been over a decade since Toshiro had a proper holiday in the World of the Living.

“It’s lucky we came at the very beginning of summer, there’s more rooms and not a whole lot of people on the beaches around here. You’ll be able to use Hyourinmaru to your heart’s content.”

“For all of you, you mean.”

“Oh, Captain, don’t be so cruel, I know you’ll use it more for yourself than anyone else!” He goes to rebut while she rummages through her short’s pocket, but he stops when pulls out a key and hands it to him. “Besides, I did a good thing for you! Like you requested, you’ll have a room to yourself with aircon.”

Oh, thank goodness.

“It’s between Madarame and Yumichika’s room and Abarai and Kuchiki’s rooms.”

He wilts. As if the heat isn't bad enough.

_________________________________

Walking into the First Division's main hall, he’s reminded of the days during and after the Quincy invasion. Most of the captains had arrived, but the usual chatter and carrying on is absent.

Iba, who stands closest to the entrance, is the only one who acknowledges his arrival. “Captain Hitsugaya,” he says with a nod.

Toshiro does the same in return as he walks past. "Iba"

Kensei, his arms folded tightly over his chest, leans against a wall next to Shinji, who’s gaze is off to the side, lost in thought. Sui Feng paces from one corner of the room to the other, each time passing Isane, who looks flatly at the ground. Lisa stands in another corner, reading one of her books, her face hidden from view.

Kenpachi, surprisingly on time for once, stands near the meeting hall’s closed doors, his back turned. As Toshiro approaches though, he shifts to look down at him. He grunts in greeting, and looks away. It’s somehow both like him and uncharacteristic of him to act in such a way.

Byakuya and Rukia both arrive, and the quiet discussion they’d been having before dies as soon as they enter the hall. Like him, they’re only greeted by Iba and try to find a place to stand. Byakuya glances at Toshiro and gives a nod. He returns the gesture, and watches as Byakuya and Rukia choose stand next to Isane, who barely manages a smile to Rukia. Both look like they want to say something, but neither speaks.

Toshiro chooses his place, standing near the meeting hall’s entrance but away from Kenpachi. He folds his arms into his sleeves and keeps his gaze on the main hall’s entrance.

The air is tense, and the silence quietly rings in Toshiro’s ears. It’s only broken when Rose and then Mayuri arrive.

The latter starts to speak – what he says Toshiro doesn’t pay attention to but it's enough to make Sui Feng stop and say somethign back to him. Their impending argument is interrupted when the meeting hall’s doors finally open.

Shunsui stands on the other side, his usual smile and casual air nowhere to be seen. Everyone files in and takes their place in the hall. Despite the solemnness of their movements, Toshiro can feel the urgency among them.

They need to discuss what happened. They need answers. How do they stop this? How many of their own had they sent to Hell over these centuries? When would their new enemy next strike? What can they do to defend themselves?

What if this conflict doesn't end like the others? What if they die? What is they have to face their own?

_________________________________

“Let’s go get some ice cream.”

Toshiro blinks out of his revere and lifts his head from his propped-up hand. Momo stands beside the table, smiling and holding a straw hat. He hadn’t even sensed her coming into the lobby.

When the small table fan propels back in his direction, sending a welcomed gust of cold air over his face, he remembers to speak. “Aren’t you going shopping with Matsumoto?”

“Yes, but you should come along too. We can grab some ice cream before we go.”

He scoffs. “Forget it.”

Momo puts her hands on her hips. “Honestly, Hitsugaya-kun, you haven’t left this inn once since we got here!”

“We’ve only been here for a day, dummy.”

“Even so! Don’t you want to see what it’s like around here? It’s been a long time since any of us have been to a new location in the World of the Living.” At his blank stare, she sighs and drops the hand holding her hat to her side while the other points to the left. “At least come out and get some ice cream then. There’s a stall down just down the street.” Then, with a rueful smile. “Besides, you know how long it can take Rangiku-san to get ready.”

He almost lets a chuckle out. He rolls his eyes to the ceiling. Even when not looking at her, he can sense Momo’s persistence. She’s always been stubborn, and he’ll never understand why it always came out whenever it involved getting him to go to places he's never been.

He exhales, making a sound between a groan and a sigh. “Fine.”

To his surprise, Momo doesn’t reach out and grab him to drag him outside and down the street. She puts her hat on, waits for him to stand and leads the way out, patient with his slower and sluggish movements. Before leaving the table, Toshiro grabs his uchiwa.

As soon as they step outside, he considers turning back. It’s hotter than this morning, and there isn’t a cloud in sight to cover the sun.

Momo senses his hesitation and gestures towards a stall a short distance away. “It’s just down there.”

Logically, he knows it’s less than a two minute walk to the stall, but did he really want to make the journey?

“I’m pretty sure they have a peppermint flavor.”

That doesn’t really sell him, but he’ll pretend it does. With more irritation than he intends, he grouses, “Let’s just go.”

Thankfully, Momo doesn’t take it personally and giggles. “You really like peppermint, huh?”

“It’s one of the few good flavors for ice cream.”

“Mango and strawberry are good too.”

He only grunts.

Their shoes clack against the pavement, and where possible they stick to the shade of trees and awnings of shops. Save for the few passing cars, the singing of the cicada, and the distant crashing waves, it’s quiet. There are only a few others outside, going about their daily lives.

He fans himself as they walk, but it doesn’t cool him down much. Heat radiates from pavement through to the soles of his shoes, and a sweat is building on his brow. The humans and Momo walk around as if nothing is wrong. How can they stand this heat?

The gust of warm wind certainly doesn’t help matters. It does, however, make him aware of Momo’s hat. On one side of the hat’s band, there’s a cluster of small flowers, coloured different shades of pink and cream, and two short cords a sparkling bead on each end sway to and fro across the brim. It looks like something she would personally pick out, she always had an inclination towards clothes with floral designs on them.

He had picked some of his clothes the week before the trip, but the rest were chosen by Rangiku. He always had an inclination towards darker colours – like the navy blue tank top and grey shorts he wears now - while she always seemed to find the right balance in brighter colours for him. For all of her faults when it came to going nuts on clothes shopping, she always knows what fashionable clothes to buy.

“The others want to go to the beach later,” Momo says. “Are you going to come along? Or is it too hot for you?”

He waves a dismissive hand. “Is Kuchiki going?"

"Yes."

"Then I’ll stay back, she can supervise."

He almost goes back on his word at her saddened frown. “Well, it’s supposed to cooler tomorrow," she says. "You’ll come then, right?”

He can't say 'no'. “Sure.”

Once they’re at the stall, he relishes the chill emanating from the glass display and the cool wind of the fan whirling behind the counter. There’s not too many flavours to choose from, mostly just the popular ones.

Momo pouts. “Ah, it’s a shame they ran out of strawberry.”

He points to the mango flavour. “You could just get that.”

She shrugs. “Maybe, but I like to have two different flavous when I can. What do you think would go well with mango?”

Toshiro considers, perusing each flavour. Eventually, he points to the best one he can think of.

Momo snorts, her fingers pressing over lips in an attempt to suppress a giggle. She fails miserably at his incredulous look.

“What’s so funny?” he asks.

“I’m sorry, it’s just…Peach?”

“It’s sweet, so is the mango.”

“But…did you pick it because of that reason or because it reminds you of -- ?” She starts giggling again.

Why are his cheeks burning? No, this won’t do. He’d honestly picked it because he thought the two would work together. “As if I’d picked it for that reason! We’re not children anymore!”

Realising the commotion they’re causing, and sensing the growing queue behind them, Toshiro is quick to order his two scoops of peppermint ice cream in a cup and storms off to the side, waiting for Momo under the shadow of a table’s umbrella.

Trying to ignore the stares of a few of the humans, he takes the small plastic spoon and digs in. He’s pleasantly surprised; it’s one of the better ice creams he’s had, and it’s quite cold. Gradually, with each spoonful, it has the effect of both cooling him and his annoyance down.

Did she really think he chose peach because of her name? Did it remind her of when they were kids and he’d only remember to buy peaches when she was there? That hadn’t happened since they were very young.

Momo joins him almost a minute later, and they set off back to the inn. She takes a spoonful of each scoop, and he’s about to grumble about the fact she went for his suggestion in the end until she cringes.

Her whole face scrunches up and she makes a sounds between a yelp and a gasp. For a second, he fears she’s hurt. "Wha--?"

"It’s really cold!"

Now it’s his turn to hold in a chuckle. He too fails, and he doesn’t do anything to stop it, even as she complains.

“Oooh! You knew, didn’t you?”

 “Yeah,” he chortles.

“Just because you have a tolerance for the cold!”

“You’re being childish, Hinamori.”

“I could say the same for you, Shiro-chan. You could’ve warned me!”

“That’s ‘Captain Hitsugaya’, Hinamori.”

Feeling he got the last word in, he smirks and slowly eats his ice cream right in front of her. She half glares at him. It’s not long before she lets out a huff, and what little irritation she had leaves her. "It's not a big deal, I'll just have to take smaller bites, and at least it tastes good.”

They continue on the pavement. Despite her bravado before, she still hestiates when she scoops up smaller bits of ice cream and eats them. He smirks, but otherwise doesn't tease her like before.

For the first time since he got here, he feels himself easing a little, and he looks to the source. Momo always has this effect on him at certain moments, where it was just the two of them and no one would be interrupting them. Maybe it’s seeing her this relaxed and content, it makes him want to be the same. Even as they were at the stall and browsing the ice cream flavours, he didn’t feel the usual apprehension to interacting with the person behind the counter – an old habit from his day in Junrinan, he’d realized years ago – because she was there with him.

It's not enough to lighten his mind of the thoughts that weigh him down, but they don’t churn in his head like waves in a stormy sea. He could put into words what has been bothering him. He could tell her right now, and maybe he’d be lighter. Maybe she’d already know and understand, because maybe she is still thinking about these things too.

“Hinamori…” He trails off when she looks over her shoulder at him. Momo walks in front of him in bright and colourful clothes, nothing like the uniform she takes pride in. She cradles the cup of mango and peach ice cream that’s already starting to melt. Her cheeks are flushed – or sunburned, he dreads – and up until now she’d been smiling. The little flowers and cord on her hat flutter in the wind, small and strangely fragile.

He walks past her. “Forget about it.”

She quickly comes in front of him and asks, “What is it?”

It’s rare for her to prod. Had he detected a hint of desperation in her voice? Had she noticed something in him and had been wanting to ask? He wouldn’t put it past her, she and Rangiku both have that uncanny ability to sense when he’s off kilter even when he doesn’t show it.

But now is not the time to tell her.

“Just make sure Matsumoto doesn’t spend too much, she could end up using Division funds.”

He maintains a stoic exterior in the face of her small, unconvincing smile. “Of course.”

_________________________________

A stick of incense had already been lit; someone else had visited Jushiro's gave before him. It won’t be long before it’s completely burnt out.

Toshiro makes his prays while the incense still burns, putting his hands together, closing his eyes, and bowing his head.

But what can he say? No words or sentiments come to mind. Not even hopes or wishes.

He does, however, recall a few memories of Jushiro. The first of when he first met the older captain; his long, white hair was tied back and he looked less pale than when Toshiro last saw him. He remembers the bags under his eyes getting progressively more prominent, and his absence from meetings becoming more frequent. At some point, the hair tie disappeared. His smile and optimism though, that only vanished in dire situations, but they always returned with as much mirth and sincerity as soon as the problem has been resolved.

How sharply those two things stood in contrast to what had transpired at this very spot.

Toshiro recalls with a repressed shiver the Jigoku no Rinki that had floated in the air around the grave just a week ago. A sign that the balance had been tipped, that Hell held enough power to break the peace. And they gave them that power. It was the price they all paid for becoming as strong as they did. This was the price they paid for allowing Aizen to grow as powerful as he did, and for imprisoning him when he was one of the beings keeping the balance from tipping. The irony sickens him.

He opens his eyes. Why is he here? Could Jushiro even hear prayers from where he is?

To think Souls like Jushiro are ending up there, fighting against all of it’s creatures and victims. He had no way of warning them of what they’ve been doing all of these centuries. What had he endured?

He can't keep the other possibility from turning over in his mind, and it makes his stomach churn. What if he isn't fighting against the creatures of Hell, but had become one of them?

Ichigo had told the captains what he'd seen who he'd fought against. Amongst his recollections was Sogyo no Kotowari, but the description he gave was not like the bankai Toshiro knew. It sounded warped and elongated to the point of being unnatural. He’s certain Hell had altered the former captain in more than just his bankai. How much has his appearance changed? Would he recognize Jushiro if saw him?

And not for the first time, Toshiro wonders if he will have to cross blades with him.

_________________________________

“Goodnight, sir,” Rangiku says while leaning on Momo and Hisagi. “Call if you need anything.”

Toshiro, his back turned to her, rolls his eyes to the ceiling. “We’re back at the inn, Matsumoto. Why would I need to call you?”

Rangiku giggles. “I didn’t mean on the phone!”

Momo laughs nervously. “But then he’d wake up everyone else, Rangiku-san.”

Rangiku considers for a moment, her head swaying from one side to the other. “…Oh yeah.”

“You sure drank a lot, huh?” Hisagi says.

“Hey, you drank too!” Rangiku retorts.

He chuckles. “Yeah, but not as much as you!”

Even in the dark, Toshiro can see the flush in his lieutenant and the Ninth Division's cheeks. He knows for Rangiku it's the sake, but for Hisagi it's a guess between the alcohol or from being that close to Rangiku.

Why am I even paying attention to this? Toshiro wonders.

Mercifully, they reach Momo and Rangiku’s room.

“Thank you again for paying for dinner, Captain Hitsugaya,” Hisagi says with a bow of his head.

Momo smiles at Toshiro. “Yes, thank you Hitsu – Captain Hitsugaya.” She waves her free hand. “Goodnight, and sleep well.”

Toshiro gives her a half-hearted wave back and half turns away.

Hisagi opens their door and helps Momo get Rangiku into the room as she groans about having drank too much. He comes out a few seconds later, closing the door behind him and walking into the room just opposite.

Toshiro remains in the hallway after Hisagi shuts his door. Save for a few shuffles in Momo and Rangiku’s room, the faint snoring from Ikkaku and Yumichika’s room down the hall, and the waves crashing in the distance, it’s dead quiet.

He should go to bed, but goes back the way he came, coming down to the ground floor and then out into the back courtyard. There are tables and chairs scattered throughout, some with umbrellas and others not. Beyond them, a railing lines a wooden deck that extends out to give a view of the main beach in the distance. Beneath him, only the streetlights, outdoor lanterns, and neon signs of bars, restaurants, and a convenience store illuminate the town.

He goes to the railing and rests his forearms along the top. The moon is a crescent, and he can still make out the tide crashing and receding. For the first time since he got here, it’s quiet. He’d longed for a moment like this, by himself and in cooler conditions. He thought it would be what he needed, but as he looks out over the town, it doesn’t take long for his mind to wonder. None of the humans here - or anywhere for that matter - truly know what is happening. If they did, how would they react?

His mind recalls the few times he was sent on a mission to the World of the Living, believing he was saving their world and keeping the balance. His subordinates would've felt the same, he imagines. Are they working on the reports he and Rangiku left behind right now? Are the captains and lieutenants still working to try and find out more about Hell? What if Hell is planning an attack? What if he -- ?

He shakes his head, then lets it fall to rest on his arms.

He pivots his mind to what had happened just a few hours ago. With the exception of Rukia and Ichika, they’d all gone to a shokudo for dinner. Rangiku had gotten started early on the sake, encouraging Hisagi, Ikkaku, and Renji to join her. It didn’t take long for the four of them to be carrying on, quibbling one minute then laughing together the next. He sat next to Rindou, who signed to him and the others about the food and what he had done today at the beach and in the town. Opposite them, Momo sat between Nanao and Kiyone, but every now and then she would glance in his direction. When he caught her, she’d either smile and return her focus to either Nanao or Kiyone, or she’d ask him something: ‘What did you order to drink?’, ‘How’s your dinner?’, and ‘Do you need extra ice?’.

It was a light-hearted atmosphere, but far removed from how he felt. Again, he wonders how they can act like this after everything they’d seen and heard. he almost had the urge to scream at them. Why weren't they discussing what they'd learnt? Why weren't they back at the Soul Society doing something about this?

But more than that, as he’d stared into his dinner, and as he glares at his feet now, he wonders why he can’t be like them. He can carry on professionally, continuing with paperwork and scheduling and leading his division, but outside of that…

He’d struggled in a similar way with the peace, always hypervigilant of a new threat that could appear after the war against the Quincy. He wishes he’d never lost that feeling, then maybe he wouldn’t feel as though he were struggling to stay afloat.

With a sigh through his nose, he straightens and walks back to his room. He doesn't plan to go to sleep, he knows he'll just be staring at the ceiling. He'll take Hyourinmaru, go somewhere secluded, and train.

_________________________________

“Why do you persist in coming here every week?”

Toshiro stays placid in the face of Mayuri’s irritation. The Twelfth Division captain hasn’t looked over at him, too focused on the readings a console produces.

Around them, there’s six division members busily doing the same, but two whisper their findings to each other and note them down on clipboards. However, every now and then, each officer glances over in the direction of the two captains. The only Soul who doesn’t is Nemu, who sits next to Akon and watches him as he types things into the system and explains to her what he's doing.

While being led to see Mayuri by Akon just a few minutes ago, Toshiro noticed in other lab rooms how frantic the officers were. They spoke in clipped whispers, and were quick to turn their backs when they realized he was passing by. By comparison, this lab is calm.

Toshiro folds his arms into his sleeves. “Perhaps it would be best if we speak in your office, Kurotsuchi.”

“And why should we do that?”

With a final glance to the others in the room, he says, “I’m checking for any updates on the de-zombification side effects.”

Now Mayuri whips around to him, his headpiece almost hitting the back of Akon’s head; neither his lieutenant or Nemu flinch. “And it’s as I’ve said: we’re still investigating all avenues.” The Twelfth Division Captain thrusts a hand to his console. “As is, we have more urgent matters at hand. Hell has made itself known, and we have been tasked with investigating how the Jigoku no Rinki was able to appear here, among other things. As a captain of Gotei Thirteen, you must say this take precedence, correct?”

Toshiro withholds a glare, because of course Mayuri is right. He should leave it there, just thank him for his time and go, but he’s lost his patience. “It’s been over ten years,” he whispers.

“And you rarely asked me about progress in those years,” Mayuri retorts, choosing to not lower his voice in return. “Suddenly, you’re in here every week and disrupting our work as a result.”

“It’s not my intention, Kurotsuchi.”

“Then explain yourself, if you would be so kind.” His voice is almost venomous, but Toshiro doesn’t back down.

He closes the gap between them and keeps his voice quiet. “The last progress you made was over three years ago, and it got shelved when the last solution failed to produce any results. As far as I’m aware, you haven’t explored any other options since, or if you have, you have not made me or Matsumoto aware of them.”

“Are you questioning my rigor? Are you not grateful anymore that I saved you and your lieutenant?”

“You know I am. If not for you, we would’ve died there and then. I am simply asking why you haven’t --”

“Then leave it be! How dare you make demands when I have done that much for you!”

“Matsumoto doesn’t have much longer left to live!”

Mayuri’s annoyance alleviates somewhat, his frown deepening and turning into one of confusion. After a pause, he speaks more quietly. “It’s not her you’re concerned for though, is it, Captain?”

That catches Toshiro off guard, and he grunts in surprise. Of course he’s concerned for Rangiku, and up until now he’d had little regard for his own life being shortened. He’d willingly take the price it paid, for better or worse.

Since Hell had made itself known, however, he’d been on edge. He’d let the anxiety he kept pushing down and simmering away get the better of him. If he dies in combat now, the Soul Society would have no choice but to perform a Konso Reisai twelve years after his passing. Could they find a way to return the balance by then? He would've once unequivocally said ‘yes’, but after everything that happened, from betrayals in their own ranks to the return of the Quincy, he didn’t know anymore. If they had given Hell so much power without realizing all of these years, just how long would it take to restore the balance between all the worlds?

He has no doubt Mayuri is investigating all of this, trying to determine the best course of action for Shunsui and the rest of the Gotei Thirteen. But when would it happen? What if it took too long? What will become of him and Rangiku?

“Master Mayuri.”

Both captains look towards Nemu. The young Soul appears as neutral as her voice had been, but her hand is fisted into the sleeve of Akon’s uniform.  The Twelfth Division lieutenant’s attention had also been diverted away from the console, and he looks between his captain and Toshiro, waiting for someone to speak.

Mayuri huffs, his anger cooling a fraction. “By my estimates, you and Lieutenant Matsumoto have well over a hundred and fifty years left. We have time to find a remedy and restore your lost lifespan.” He levels Toshiro with a hardened gaze. “If you continue to come here for any reason other than findings towards any of our research on Hell, I will have no choice but to report this to the Captain-Commander. Are we clear?”

To Toshiro’s bewilderment, he actually waits for his answer. He has no choice, and withholding a cringe, he nods.

Satisfied, Mayuri turns away and waves a hand towards the lab’s entrance. “Akon, escort him out of the division.”

“Yes, sir.”

Toshiro remains rooted to the spot for a moment longer. It’s useless, he knows, but he somehow hopes Mayuri will change his mind, will give him even an inkling into anything he’s found.

After a beat, he follows Akon out. Neither say anything as they walk down the corridors.

It’s not her you’re concerned for though, is it, Captain?

How had he known? Did Mayuri have the same fears? That he will perish sooner rather than later, and he too could be forced into Hell if they do not find a solution to restoring the balance between all the worlds? It’s hard to imagine someone like him worrying about such things.

But then, he did have Nemu, and for all of his faults and failings, he was treating this Nemu better than the last.

Toshiro shakes his head. Everything seems wrong. Because if Mayuri Kurotsuchi of all people can understand what he’s going through, then the world has surely gone mad.

He knows as soon as he leaves here, he’ll go train. It’s the best way to deal with the pent-up emotions. It's the only way he can think of deal with their current predicament when they lack any answers.

_________________________________

Ichika’s laughter comes through the walls. Despite the fact it was the reason for his rude awakening, Toshiro’s oddly relieved to hear it. He’d seen her in the aftermath of Hell’s invasion of the World of Living; she was pale and quiet, clinging to Renji so tight her knuckles were white. She also hadn’t bothered him with spontaneous visits to the Tenth Division office since the incident.

Regardless, after two weeks, she was running around and causing mischief like always – at least according to Ikkaku and Renji. Children have that ability to bounce back, even in times of uncertainty. He remembers when he could do it, but it is a trait that has slowly faded over time.

Toshiro groans as he sits up. A tiny sliver of daylight piercing his room through the curtains. He checks his denreishikai; it’s just after eight in the morning. He’s usually up with the sun, but being on this holiday in this God forsaken heat continues to make him sluggish.

He rises from his bed and goes to the wind to draw the curtains back. At least the clouds are back today. He has a view of the biggest beach in the area, and judging from the gleam one person’s head gives off, he guesses it’s Ikkaku doing laps in the ocean; Yumichika probably isn’t far from him, likely being one of the people sitting under a beach umbrella.

If they’re already there, then the others are likely not far behind. As if on cue, he hears Renji and Ichika leaving their room, excitedly chattering about going down to the beach. As they pass his room, Rukia comments on her husband’s clothing – “Did you pick that shirt? And what does ‘Sun’s out, guns out’ mean?” – but Toshiro doesn’t hear the rest over Ichika’s laughter.

He glances at the bag Hyourinmaru is hidden away in. He briefly recalls his training from last night - not that he was able to do much without drawing unwanted attention from locals. He'd practiced his zanjutsu in a forested area on the other side of town, and had returned to inn in the early hours of the morning. At least it had tired him out enough to make him fall asleep.

With a long exhale, he focuses back on today. If he’s going to use his zanpakuto while at the beach, he’ll have to be discreet about it; and he has no doubt the others will be clamoring for him to make shaved-ice.

He goes to the bathroom, which is several degrees warmer than his room. After showering and getting changed into a shirt and a pair of board shorts, there’s a knock on his door.

“Captain, are you awake yet?” Rangiku asks in a singsong tone.

Toshiro sighs. All of this cheerfulness is too much after just waking up. “Yeah.”

She opens the door, but she’s not alone.

“We’ve got your breakfast here, Hitsugaya-kun.” Momo holds out a plastic bag and takeaway coffee cup. “I just chose what I thought you’d might like, I hope that’s okay.”

Rangiku enters his room, but stops only a few steps in. “Captain, it’s freezing in here!” she complains, rubbing her bare arms. “How do you stand it?”

“It’s hot,” is all he says as comes over to them. “Why didn’t you wake me earlier?”

“We figured you could do with a sleep in,” Rangiku says. “It’s so rare that it happens, and you’re on a break, you’re supposed to do things like that.”

“I’m supposed to be supervising over all of you.”

“Supervising,” Rangiku says under breath with a sigh. “Honestly, Captain.”

“So is Captain Kuchiki,” Momo says at the same time. “Honestly, Hitsugaya-kun, it’s okay to relax even when you’ve been assigned to watch over us.”

He shakes his head. “In any event, what’s happening today? I assume you’re all going down to the beach?”

_________________________________

Toshiro watches Granny hanging the washing. He’d tried to help her, but she’d waved him off and told him to go rest inside.

“You hardly ever get a break these days,” she said. “You’re such a hard worker, but you should rest more often.”

He'd made a pot of tea, and by the time she’s done it’ll be cool enough for her to drink. He'd also set up a bowl of amanatto and placed it next to the clay cups on the tray.

As he waits, he fiddles with one of his old spinning tops. He’d dug it out from the closet, buried behind futon mattresses and other things from his childhood. He still doesn’t understand why Granny keeps most of it, she’s always been a practical person who hates clutter.

He slowly wraps the cord around the top of the toy, but never releases it. He holds it loosely in his fingers, but his gaze remains on Granny. She bends down to her basket and pulls out another sheet to hang. In isolation, it's a peaceful image.

Her life rarely changes. She still goes to the same stalls and shops for food and household supplies. She still drinks the same tea blends, washes the same clothes and linens, and wakes up and goes to sleep at the same times every day.

Her life is simpe and despite it’s repetitiveness, it’s unplanned. Things are just the way they are, and they work for her.

For the first time in decades, he wishes he could return to that life. Even with all the negatives that came with it, compared to life he leads now, it’s peaceful and far less complicated.

He planned things to a fault, he should’ve known it would be his downfall one day; or at least, lead to disappointment when something came and ruined everything. Of course the peace couldn’t last, something had to disrupt it. Life is never the same, it's never consistent. How long had he expected it to go on for?

But that was the thing. He never made plans for the peace, he had simply lived in it. It was almost like his life before he became a captain, only with more responsibilities he could handle.

Granny turns to him after hanging up the last of the washing. Her smile widens when she spots the teapot and bowl of amanatto. He can’t help but smile back despite the growing heaviness within him.

He doesn't plan to tell her about Hell yet. He won’t break this peace for her.

_________________________________

It’s far too hot, even under the shade.

Toshiro lies his head and torso over the picnic table, a cup half filled with melting shaved ice in one hand and a spoon in the other. The shelter above and around him is made of wood and obstructs the view of onlookers that weren’t on the beach. Combined with having so few humans around, it allows him to discreetly use his zanpakuto to make shaved ice in one of it's corner.

Rangiku had gone out and bought bottles of syrup, paper cups, and wooden spoons from a nearby convenience store. All of it is stored in a freezer bag along with a bucket of the ice he’d conjured up five minutes ago. Hyournmaru lies out of sight in his own bag, but the cold flowing form the blade brushes along the floor of the shelter, cooling his feet and ankles. He considered himself a glorified placeholder for the table, and so long as he is here, no humans would come along and accidentally spot his weapon.

With some effort, he raises himself to take another spoonful of slushy ice and munches on it. He watches the group on the beach, all doing various things. Ikkaku and Hisagi race each other, doing several laps in the ocean. If it weren’t for the heat bearing down on him above and the hot sand between the shade and the ocean, he’d be doing laps himself.

He slides his gaze over to Kazui and Ichigo, both wading into the water while Orihime collected seashells along the shoreline ; they’d taken the train to come down for the day. Orihime finds a shell that makes her grin and she jogs to the Abarai family. Ichika makes a sandcastle with Rukia, giggling when Renji comes up behind her with a wreath of seaweed and tickles her with it before draping it over one of the walls. It’s then Orihime gets their attention and hands them a few seashells to decorate another wall.

Further up the beach, Nanao walks up to Rangiku, who sunbathes on a towel. She lectures Rangiku about something -- likely the fact she's sunbathing in the first place -- and his lieutenant squints up at her in response. Yumichika, relaxing under an umbrella, makes a comment which makes Rangiku snap at him and Nanao wearily rolls her head to one side.

Rindo, Momo and Kiyone had gone for a walk up the beach to the rockpools. Toshiro spots them as specks in the distance, and the footprints they'd left behind are gradually washed away every time the waves surge in.

He takes another spoonful of shaved ice, then eases back down to the table and begins to doze off. There’s only the darkness beneath his eyelids, the crashing of waves, the hot breeze that blows through, Hyourinmaru's cold circling around his ankles and the distant voices of the Shinigami and humans. He can’t relax, ending up in a state between being awake and on the verge of napping.

It’s twenty minutes later when he’s startled by a call of his name. He opens his eyes and turns his head just in time to see Kazui and Ichika racing towards him. He lets go of his completely melted shaved ice to raise himself up.

“Captain Hitsugaya!” Kazui calls out again, grinning.

“He heard you the first time, dummy!” Ichika chastises.

He thinks to lecture her about calling Kazui a dummy -- it seems like the responsible thing to do -- but someone beats him to it.

“Don’t call Kazui-chan bad names, Ichika-chan!” Momo calls out from behind. She pants and tries to keep her hat on as she rushes to catch up to them.

Ichika blushes slightly in shame, but otherwise doesn’t respond. Kazui isn't phased, his grin still in place.

With as much energy as he can muster, Toshiro lazily waves his hand in greeting before the children come to a stop in the shelter. “Babysitting?” he says to Momo.

She shakes her head. “They just happened to be on their way to see you too.”

He returns his attention to Kazui and Ichika. “You two looking for some shaved ice?”

They both nod eagerly.

“Papa said you make the best shaved ice ever,” Ichika says.

I’m the only one here who can, he thinks. He only grunts as he twists around to the freezer bag. The ice had gotten more slushy, but it's still usable. “Which flavours do you want?”

“Watermelon!” they say in unison.

Toshiro smirks. “Good choice.”

He takes out the syrup and puts it on the table, then scoops two cups into the ice and sticks a spoon in each. He hands them over to the children. “It’s all yours.”

As expected, they go crazy with the syrup, completely dying the ice red. Momo intervenes before it can get too messy, making sure most of the flavoring stays in the cups.

“You two should eat that under the shade,” she says, pointing at the umbrellas Yumichika and Nanao rest under. “And make sure you bring the empty cups back here, okay?”

Toshiro withholds a chuckle. Since when is she their mother?

Ichika and Kazui both nod to Momo, then turn back to Toshiro.

“Thank you, Captain Hitsugaya,” Kazui says with a quick bow of his head.

Ichika does likewise. “Thank you!”

He waves a hand. "Enjoy, I guess."

They take that as their cue to run off. They go to Yumichika and Rangiku, who both cease their argument when the children arrive and make room for them under the umbrellas.

He turns to Momo, but she’s still watching Ichika and Kazui. She's flushed across her cheeks and shoulders, and sand dusts her shins and sandaled feet. Strangely, he senses hesitation from her, as though she is nervous about turning to face him. It’s in her posture, which though looking relaxed to most, has the signs she’s trying to hide. Her arms are loosely braced over her midsection, and her shoulders are a few inches higher than normal.

“You want one too?” he asks, getting her attention.

Momo shakes her head, smiling. “Oh, no, I was just coming to see how you were doing.”

He ignores the small, warm flutter her concern sends through his chest and takes an empty cup out of the bag. “You might as well have one.”

She considers for a moment. “…Well, it is getting hotter.”

“Orange, lime, or watermelon? Matsumoto didn’t buy mango and the strawberry is empty.”

 “You remembered?”

He hides his embarrassment by saying nothing and stooping lower than necessary to fill up the cup with ice.

From behind, she giggles. “In that case, orange please.”

He fishes out the syrup and a spoon before he twists back around and hands everything to her.

“I’m sure everyone appreciates you doing this,” she says while pouring the syrup.

“Feels like that the main reason I’m here,” he mutters drily.

“That’s not true!”

“I didn’t mean it, dummy.”

She makes a sound between a sigh and a chuckle. “Now who’s calling people bad names.”

He rests back down on the table, watching as she takes a spoonful of orange ice and chomps down on it. She gives an appreciative hum and her smile turns into a grin. “Thank you, Shiro-chan.”

And despite her old habit, he’s certain if he were in a better mood he’d give her a small smile in return. “Captain Hitsugaya.”

She continues to eat as if she hadn’t heard him.

It feels like this is where their interaction should end, that she should walk off back to the others. She stays rooted to the spot, and it’s unnatural to him.

“You didn’t have to come check on me,” he says.

She pauses, staring down into the shaved ice. “I know.”

Why did it sound like she’d taken his comment as a jab? His frown deepens. “Weren’t you going to the rockpools before?”

“Yeah, but Rindou-kun and Kotetsu-san wanted to go out further than I intended.” She raises a foot and wriggles her toes. “I wasn’t wearing the right shoes to go with them.”

She isn’t lying, but he senses there’s more to it. As he considers whether to prod any further, she suddenly stops eating, sticking the spoon into the ice. “Have you just been lying here all day?”

He shrugs. “More or less.”

“But that’s no good. You should have something to do here!” She shakes her head. “The majority voted for a beach, but...maybe we should’ve gone somewhere else.”

“Why do you…?” Why does that strike a nerve within him? Why did she feel the need to make sure he is having a good time here? She didn’t belong under the shade, she loves the sun and places like this; most Shinigami did.

Why is he even here?

He gives a frustrated grunt. “Just go back to the others already.”

At her widened, alarmed eyes, he realizes he’d said it with the irritation he'd been trying to hide and with more strictness than he’d intended. Damn this heat! No, he can’t blame it on the weather. He’d let the heaviness in his mind get the better of him, and the uncertainty about why they are here.

He forces himself back up, ignoring the strain in his arms. After a beat, he begins to apologise. “I didn’t mean --”

She lays a hand on his. She curls her fingers loosely around his wrist, a silent way of saying he can remove himself from her grasp. Her hand is colder than usual, thanks to the shaved ice. But had they always been this small? How had he only just noticed it?

“I get it. I know the heat gets to you,” Momo says. She looks out to the sea for a pause before continuing. “I-I know it’s not much, but in the evening, it’ll be cooler. If you want to and you’re up for it, we can come back here and walk along the beach after dinner.”

“Why do you want to do that?”

“Because you deserve to enjoy the beach too.”

I don’t even like beaches, is what he’d say aloud, but he won’t.

"And…" She purses her lips, and her cheeks become a shade darker. "We're friends, aren't we? I want to spend some time with my friends. Don't you want to do the same?"

There’s that look, the one she always had when she tried to help others. He’ll never tell her how much it meant to him to see she was still capable of showing that gaze after everything she went through.

At his lack of a response, her gaze flutters to the ground. “I mean, if you’d rather be alone, then that’s okay too. Just so long as you’re able to enjoy yourself.”

“No.” He gentle extracts his hand from her grasp. She raises her head, confused.

It’s then he feels how tired he is. It’s not lethargy from the heat, it’s something deeper. Something that was the result of holding back too much, and maybe, as she waits for him to elaborate, it’s time she knew about it. “We’ll go together.”

His heart clenches at the stunned softness in her eyes. Eventually, she smiles. “Okay.”

“Oi, Hinamori-san!”

Both turn to look in the direction of Hisagi, who waves to her. “We’re doing the race now!”

“I’ll be there!” she calls back. Then to Toshiro. “I promised them I’d be the time keeper for a race they’re doing.”

Toshiro watches Hisagi, Ikkaku, Renji, Ichigo, Kazui, and Ichika all gather together on the sand. Nanao stands off to the side a small towel in her hand – probably the as a flag to signal for them to start. Rangiku uses the end of an umbrella to draw a long line in the sand.

Toshiro doesn’t see the point of racing on a beach, especially in this heat and with all of their abilities, so all he has to offer is, “Whatever keeps them entertained.”

Momo backs out of the shelter, and with the spoon still in her mouth, says something to the effect of, “I’ll see you later.”

He watches on as Momo rushes down and takes her place next to Nanao, who hands her a stop watch.

 Kazui quickly eats the rest of his shaved ice, while it seems Ichika had passed hers to Rukia. She and Renji are amping each other up, but Ichika bursts into laughter.

I want to spend some time with my friends. Don't you want to do the same?

They've never been a normal group, but this seems in character for all of them. For the first time since coming here , Toshiro has a fleeting sentiment that he's glad they can act like they always do despite what looms over them.

_________________________________

He’s rarely wondered about the future. He always did schedules for division-related activities, and would keep appointments made in mind when planning his week or month. But he never thought of any of these things beyond what was necessary. He never considered what his own future held.

There were only four instances he can think of when he pondered on what lay ahead for him: the first was when he had to leave Granny to go to the Academy, the second was when he'd been appointed captain of the Tenth Division, the third was while he recovered from his injuries after Aizen’s defeat, and the fourth was in first few months after the war against the Quincy ended.

He’s always considered himself someone who lives in the present, who only plans for the future if the present shows him he needs to. Even then, he only went as far as he needed to, never going beyond into the 'what ifs' that weren't related to the task at hand.

Lately, he wonders how the buildings around him will change as the years go by. Will they need repairs from unprecedented weather events? Will they be renovated to look different? Will the Tenth Division get another barracks as it’s forces grow in numbers?

He wonders how tall the trees in his division will grow, and if any of them will have to be cut down.

He also wonders what beings he has yet to meet. Unless Ichigo and Orihime plan to have another child, he doubts there will be more than three humans he'll ever have to introduce himself to. He keeps away from the Arrancar where possible, but he's certain there's Souls still out there he will cross paths with more than once. What new recruits will have to introduce himself to? Will any of the captains retire and be replaced?

He wonders when Hyourinmaru’s Completed form will become his true bankai, where he will no longer have to wait for the petals to fall. He wonders if the transformation will ever be less painful or strainious.

He wonders when Hell will make it’s next move. In the next year? Or month? Or week? Or tomorrow? He can see Jushiro's bankai elongating out of Hell's gates, a grotesque distortion of what they were all once familiar with. How did the rest of him look? Would he remember who any of them were? And if he did, would he resent them for what they unknowingly did?

He wonders how much longer Granny and Rangiku have to live.

He wonders how much longer he has left.

Prior to the completed form, he could never picture how he’d looked as an adult. In a strange way, it’s as if the world has told him he won’t make it, that he will only transform into that age but not live to experience it. He can’t picture Rangiku as being older than she is, or any of the his fellow Shinigami for that matter.

That of course included Momo, who sits in front of him, talking while putting paperwork in front of him. He hasn’t heard a word she’s said. Even though he can’t picture her as an adult, he’s mostly certain she has a future as one. One where she smiles often, and still calls him ‘Shiro-chan’ because old habits die hard. She still sees Renji and Izuru for the occasional meet up, and goes with Rangiku to bars and carries her back to the Tenth Division barracks. She starts a bigger literature club, where members will talk about the books they’ve read and she will make sure everyone gets a chance to talk. He can see her taking up painting on top of the drawing she already does, and her room will have the faint smell of paints and drawing charcoal.

Maybe there would’ve been a time he could see himself there too, but that window seems to get narrower and narrower the heavier these thoughts make him feel.

“Are you all right?”

Toshiro tries to keep his reaction muted, but a startled gasp still leaves him when her hand comes over his forearm. He’s about to come up with some excuse, but her concern softens him.

“You weren’t here, were you?” she says.

He looks at the paperwork, unable to deny it.

She glances down her hand, and appears surprised she touched him. She's quick to lean back, but her hand slides off his arm and remains close by. “What’s on your mind?”

The top line of the document in front of him reads ‘Agenda for joint training session 34’. He takes a stab at what she was saying before. “It’s nothing to worry about, just trying to figure out schedules for the next three months. If we try to do a joint training session next month, it will have to be in the first week.”

Her brow twitches, trying to not frown. Her eyes search his, but again he looks down at the paperwork.

“Yes, of course.”

It’s as she says this that he realizes the document has nothing to do with a joint training session for his division. It was for one with Third Division; she likely showed him as an example of what they could do next time for a kido training session.

He bites the inside of his cheek, ashamed. He's supposed to be a captain, where was his focus?

He waits for her to correct him. Then she’ll try to pry it all out of him, because she always wants to knows what’s on his mind. He doesn’t want to snap at her, would never do such a thing under any circumstances. But this weight, these thoughts, they were beginning to take up more space within him. He doesn’t know how he’ll react to her trying to navigate through them with him.

“Captain,” she says, surprising him enough to make him look up. Her smile is small and unsure, but she persists. “Actually, I didn’t just come here to discuss training sessions. The Women’s Association is looking to fund a vacation to the World of the Living. It’s a chance for everyone to have a break from work, we haven’t had a proper one in over ten years, right?”

“Why are you bringing this up?”

Her smile almost wobbles away, but she finds the strength to not only keep it in place, but to widen it too. “I’m inviting you to come along.”

________________________________

Compared to the afternoon, the sand is cooler under Toshiro’s feet. He strolls down to the sea, hands in his pockets and head bowed. Momo is behind him, but she pauses every now and then pick up seashells.

He doesn’t stop until he reaches the shoreline. The last sliver of the sun disappears over the horizon, colouring the sky dark blues and purples. A lone boat travels across the waves to a nearby dock. Behind him, a few cars whizz by and people go out for the night to bars and restaurants. Rangiku and a few of the others are among them, going to a izakaya tonight for dinner and drinks. He can already imagine how silly they’ll be acting by the time he and Momo rejoin them later tonight on the way back to the inn.

With a shake of his head, he turns his attention to the waves lapping at his toes. The next surge sends a wave over his feet. The froth of the sea spins around his ankles and the cold of the water tingles across his skin before receding away, only to return seconds later. It’s oddly relaxing, and he’s entranced by the motions of the waves. They come and go, come and go, never ceasing. It’s been like this for millions of years, since before he or anyone he knows were ever born. It has a beginning but no ending in sight.

It’s the first time he’s been at peace since the revelations about Hell came to light. Even so, the unease threatens to bubble up from the pit of his stomach. For even if there is no end in sight he can see, the ocean will vanish one day, whether it be Hell being strong enough to destroy this world, or a more natural end much further down the line.

So caught up in this, he doesn’t register Momo approaching until she’s by his side, and flinches when she speaks.

“There’s already so many stars out,” she marvels.

Thankfully, her is gaze on the dusk sky. Gone is her hat and hair ties, allowing the breeze lightly tussles her hair around her shoulders and back. She wears a shirt rolled up to the sleeves, and a bright orange summer dress beneath it. In one hand she holds her sandals, and shells in the other.

Indeed, stars glimmer down at them. Being this far away from the lights of the town, there’s more of them then he usually accustomed to in the World of the Living, and constellations he’s never seen before.

“I can see the pear.” Momo points to a cluster of stars on the right. “Remember that one?”

One of the many silly constellations they made up as children. “If that’s somehow it, it still doesn’t look like a pear.”

“Yeah it does! There’s the stem, and there’s the rest!” As she says this, she traces her finger over each star to map it out for him. “Its just upside down.”

He shakes his head. “You always had a strange imagination.”

She scoffs. “It’s called being creative.” After a moment, she tilts her head to one side. “I didn’t think it would show up in the World of the Living.”

“Our sky isn’t much different from there’s.”

“I guess not.”

The mood has lightened slightly, but the silence that follows is filled with the crashing of waves. They can remain like this, but like earlier today, it doesn’t feel natural. He turns to her, but she still has her eyes on the stars. He can leave her to be like this, oblivious to what is going on beneath the surface.

“Hinamori.” He has her attention now. He unknowingly takes in a deep breath as his stomach clenches, but he can’t stand not knowing anymore. “Why did you invite me to this?”

The question doesn’t catch her off guard like he expected it to. Instead, she tucks the shells she’d collected into one of her shirt pockets and glides her foot through the water. “It’s a shame we all couldn’t be here, and I know what happened is still on all of our minds, but it’s good to see those who did are relaxing a little. The last few months have been tough, and we all deserve to have a break from it. To step away for a little while.” She smiles wistfully. “That’s why I invited you to come. Even though it’s at a beach, and even though it’s only for a few days, I thought it would be good to spend time with you, Rangiku-san, Nanao-san, Abarai-kun, and the others away from what’s been bothering us.”

He thought hearing her say he wasn’t the only one thinking about the revelations about Hell would reassure him, but it only serves to annoy him. He’s no fool, he knows the others hadn’t forgotten about what happened, but why use their time here of all places? They can’t have moved on, this was too insurmountable to move on from.

“Aren’t we just running away?” He hadn’t meant to voice the question aloud, and it makes Momo's brow furrow.

His voice rises as he continues. “Shouldn’t we be using this time to plan for Hell’s next attack? We know nothing about their strategy. They’ve done nothing since Ukitake’s Konso Reisai, andKurotsuchi keeps investigating, but nothing ever comes up. We’re just here, doing nothing about it.” He throws his hands out to the sides. “We didn’t even know what we’ve been doing to our former captains this whole time!”

Momo shakes her head and braces her arm across her torso, her hand holding her opposite elbow. “We couldn’t have known.”

“But now we do! And what now? We’ll go to battle, that’s for certain, but what if this battle doesn’t end like the others?”

“That we’ll lose?”

“No, not even that. That we’ll be fighting Hell for decades. The first war against the Quincy lasted years, Hinamori. What if this battle is the same? What if we lose more captains, and we’ll have no choice but to perform Konso Reisai for all of them?”

“You…really think the conflict would last that long?”

“I don’t know, and that’s…” He let’s out an exasperated breath. He’s never like this, shouting and venting his thoughts, and that only frustrates him even more. “We need something concrete! We need direction, and we won’t get that unless we’re working on it back in the Soul Society. Hell must be doing this deliberately, it's a psychological tactic to weaken us."

She looks at him in confusion and worry, an expression that would normally cool his anger and makes him reassess what he'd said. But he's in too far now, he won't stop.

“You saw Sogyo no Kotowari.”

She frowns, likely wondering where this is going. “Only at a glance. Kurosaki-san saw it up close.”

“But his description fit what you saw, yes?”

She nods solemnly. “I thought I was seeing things, but when I got back to the Soul Society and found out what was happening with the Konso Reisai, it suddenly made sense.”

“Ukitake impaled that Espada, but we don’t know for what reason. We don’t know if he is on our side or not. If he isn’t, if everyone we have sent to Hell this whole time isn’t, we’re going to have to face them.”

The grip on her arm tightens. “I know.”

“I won't to become like Ukitake,” he says fiercely, bordering on a growl. “I won't become warped. If I have to fight him and the others, then so be it. But I won't to become like them. I don’t want to…”

“What makes you think you’ll die before the conflict is over?” she asks.

He doesn't answer, can't answer as his throat tightens.

Her hand drops back to her side as she leans forward. “You won’t die, Shiro-chan.”

“How can you know that?” he struggles to get out.

“Because you’re one of the strongest Shinigami I know, in skill, in your bond with your zanpakuto, and in fortitude.” Her eyes become glassy and her voice gets increasingly louder. “Someone like you doesn’t die so easily. I know you’ll keep fighting, no matter you are faced with!  You lived through so much, and survived wounds that would kill so many! You don’t give up, you’ve never given up, it’s a quality you embody above everything else! There’s no way you can die, don’t even think about it! And don't push everyone away!”

She pants for breath and bites her lip, trying to prevent tears. He’s at a loss for words. Had she too been bottling something up? Was it anxiety about Hell, or was it about him?

A wave hits the back of his shins. They both look down. When had the water gotten this high? Is the tide already coming in, or had they waded further into the sea? Wordless, he walks back to the shore, and after a moment, she follows. He halts once he’s back at the shoreline, but she takes a few steps away from it.

As her breathing quietens, Momo’s gaze searches for something in him. Her eyes are so wide, alarmed and still on the verge of tearing up. “I-I didn’t understand why you were becoming so distant, I thought getting away from the Soul Society would help, but now I think I know. Are you…?” She’s conflicted, her lips opening to continuing her question, only to close seconds later and becoming a taut, pressed line.

He’d wanted to tell her what was on his mind, but not like this. To his own ear, he’s ended up sounding both paranoid and like a child complaining about something not going his way. He ended up upsetting her. Toshiro sighs, suddenly more tired than before. “What is it?”

She still hesitates, her focus on the waves circling his ankles. Eventually, she raises her head and steps closer. “Are you scared?”

It hits him in the chest like a stone thrown into glass. For a second, his blood runs tight and cold in his limbs. His heart skips a beat, then clenches. He can feel hairline fractures running through him, threatening to break apart. Momo hadn’t hit the nail on the head, but she knows one facet of what is going on within him.

The impact she made must show, because her expression softens further. “It’s okay if you are, I think we all are. I think it’s why we’re all here. In this time of uncertainty, the only thing we can do right now is to be here with our friends. We can’t let the uncertainty of the future stop us from living in the present with those we care about.”

Or we could be planning. Somehow, the thought sounds strange, as if the sentiment behind it weren’t quite right anymore.

Momo closes the gap between them, their hands almost brushing. “If you really feel we shouldn’t be here, then why did you come?” It’s not an accusation, only a gentle question.

Because you wanted me to. She still isn’t aware of the hold she has over him, but how would she react if she knew? But her invite hadn’t been the only reason, nor had it just been Rangiku and Granny’s encouragement, or Shunsui appointing him as one of the supervisors.

We can’t let the uncertainty of the future stop us from living in the present with those we care about.

Maybe if the mood were different, he would tease her for picking up on his philosophy. In her own way, she had describe what would be his usual way of thinking. He slides his gaze to the horizon, watching the waves form, build, then curl in and crash in on themselves. It reminds him the fireworks, how they rise and flare into existence, only to scatter and fade away after they’ve exploded in the sky.

What happened to him? Why is he like this?

No, he already knows why. He swallows thickly and closes his eyes, but it does nothing to help. If he looks at the source of all of this now, the fractures might get bigger, but if he doesn't, they'll only run deeper.

And so, he opens his eyes to the stars.

“Before Hell, Kurotsuchi was working on a cure for the de-zombification process for Matsumoto and I,” he begins, his voice rougher. “That included returning the years of our life taken by the procedure, or at least, extending out lifespans to something greater than what they currently are. I expected slow progress, but when Hell revealed itself to us, of course work into a cure had ceased all together. It’s the right thing to do. We lay our lives down for the Soul Society.” His gaze fixes on her. “For our friends.”

Momo lets out a long, silent breath, her shoulders falling lower. She waits, always patient and willing to listen to him, but there's an urgency beneath it.

With some effort, he continues. “Knowing what will happen once those who obtained bankai die, knowing we can become so warped, that we can fight against our former officers, our friends. If I die before the conflict ends, that's what I'll become. I don't want that. I never want to hurt anyone on our side." I never want to hurt you again. "I didn't want..." I didn't want the peace to end."I don't..." I don't want to die.

Something drops into the sand behind them. Then, her arms around him, pulling him into side ways hug. His widened eyes stare straight ahead, unblinking and unfocused. The last time they had hugged was when the war against the Quincy had ended. Why is it they only hug when they're sad? But the feel of her arms around his shoulders, to know she's here with him, it makes him shudder, verging of a sob. He holds it back, believing it would do neither of them any good, but he turns in her arms and wraps his own around her.

“Without knowing what’s ahead, I can’t just relax like everyone else,” he admits.

“I know,” she whispers, voice tight. "With all of that on your mind, how could anyone?"

"And knowing I don't have much longer to live…"

A minute passes, and there's only the waves, which now coming up to their mid shines. The tide is definitely coming in, it wont be long before it gets higher.

Toshiro thinks to pull away, but Momo's arms tighten around him. "There's still time for Captain Kurotsuchi to find a cure for you and Rangiku-san, I know he won't give up on it. We don't know what we're up against, but that's nothing new for us, isn't it?" and he feels her smile against his temple. “In times of uncertainty and without answers, we only have each other, " she says "You look out for others, and become stronger for others. It’s why one of the reasons you’re worried about the future, right? It’s not just about fearing an early death, isn’t it? You care about everyone, you want to know what you can do to protect them for what’s to come. You want to live with everyone, right?”

His heart quivers. He’d seen everyone’s confusion and dourness for more than a month, and it did nothing to alleviate the emotions that slowly took hold of him. The peace had softened him, had made him so accustomed to seeing everyone in higher spirits. He missed it, longed for it after what they had learned about Hell. He especially missed seeing Momo that way, after everything she went through, by Aizen's hand and unintentionally his own.

He recalls how fragile the flowers in her hat looked, how small her hands seemed. He hadn't had to think about protecting anyone in years, hadn't had to be vigilant or on guard at all times, but they'd slowly been bubbling back to the surface in the recent months. When Hell comes, those feelings will come back in full force. He would never let anything harm her, not when he now has the powers to protect her.

As the seconds pass, a strange grief takes hold. He mourns for an uncertain future, for a future that will likely not be his. She has been a part of his life for so many years, and there was a time he was certain she would still be there with him in the future, but now, even if he makes it out of this alive, who's to say of she or Rangiku will be there? It's always been a possibility, ever since any of them became Shinigami, but with Hell now posing as a threat - one that has broken the peace they'd enjoyed for over ten years - it only exacerbates the chances of it happening. He mourns for the peace that is broken, because at some point without realising, he had seen that as their future. They would all go on happily, performing their duties with only the occasional hitch, but nothing that would threaten their everyday lives, the very existence of all the worlds.

The peace was too good to last; but it had happened, and he had enjoyed it with everyone else. It's the way of all the worlds; the good can only last for so long, but it never completely vanishes. It finds it's way back in smaller ways.

With a new wave smacking particularly hard into the backs his legs, he pulls away. He takes her hand, ignoring the surprised look she gives him, and leads her out of the water. “Come on, we should head back, the tide is starting to come in.”

Along the way, she stoops down and picks up the sandals she’s thrown aside to hug him. They walk up the beach and up the mounds and stairs in silence.

What they'd talked about isn't really an answer or a solution to his worries. He’ll feel this unease about the future for as long as Hell is a threat. But the waves, they ebb and flow. The stars burn until there’s nothing left; they shine brightly until they fade away. The worlds go on, with or without beings who have left them. It's both a disconcerting and calming thought.

As they near the road a few minutes later, Momo she gives his hand a squeeze. "Thank you, Hitsugaya-kun."

"Huh?"

"For telling me everything. I know it couldn't have been easy for you." Then, ruefully, "I'm sorry that this all happened at a beach."

Toshiro could almost laugh, but he manages to withhold it. "It was a majority vote for the location, there was no changing that."

He doesn't looks back at her until they stop on the side of the road. The streetlight next to them casts half of her face in white-yellow light, while the sign of a nearby restaurant casts the other in pink and red.

"You've always been like this. Willing to listen to others, to let them speak their minds." He gives her a small smile. "I should be thanking you."

She gives a embarrassed shrug. "I'm not always like that."

He could argue with her until they're both deaf about her modesty, but he refrains. "Maybe you're right. It's good to...be away for a while, even if it's somewhere like here."

"Even if you can't stop thinking about what happened? Or what's to come?"

It's not her intention, but it almost feels like a test from the universe, to see if he has taken what she'd said to heart. He steps closer, gaze intent. "It's like you said, there was no way we could stop completely thinking about what happened. I can't let these thoughts go, I can't be like everyone else . I won't stop thinking about what happened, not until we can predict Hell's next moves." He bows his head. "I'm sorry for how I've been on this trip."

She shakes her head. "You have nothing to apologize for. If anything, I'm sorry for trying to force you to relax. I should've just come out and said I was concerned."

"With how I was, I can understand why you went about things the way you did. Besides, the ice cream wasn't bad. Dinner was good too, and the beach wasn't...terrible."

That gets a huff of a chuckle out of her.

"Still, I should've been upfront before we came."

She offers a sympathetic smile. "In the end, you were. We only have a day left, but please spend it however you want to." After he nods, she drops her sandals to the ground. "I should put these on before we go back to the others."

She lets go his hand to slide and clip her sandals back on.

His hand hovers in the air, and he knows he should put it back to his side. He'd done what he'd had to to lead them away from the sea. He's also never been one for physical contact beyond what was necessary in battle. But he didn't want to let go just yet.

With both of her shoes on, Momo straightens. "Do think they are at the bar by now?"

"Chances are."

He looks out to the road, lit by streetlights and lined with restaurants, bars, and closed shops. The weight within him is still there, but lighter. For the first time since he arrived, he thinks of somewhere he wants to go.

"I think I saw a takoyaki stall down there," he says, jerking his chin to the right. "Want to go eat before we join everyone else?"

Momo raises both eyebrows, but before he can ask why she reacted this way, she beams and takes his hand again. "Yeah, let's go."

#hitsuhina #hitsuhina week 2023 #toshiro hitsugaya #momo hinamori #rangiku matsumoto #fanfiction #brotp: I've got your back #making cameos are #ikkaku madarame #yumichika ayasegawa #renruki #ichika abarai #nanao ise #kiyone kotetsu #ichihime #kazui kurosaki #shuhei hisagi #atau rindo #this took forever! #but it's finally done! #angst

[one-black-rotary-phone]

Griffin Stagg Headcanons

Headcanons for the youngest boy in the cast: Griffin Stagg. No reader. Will update as I think of more.

TW for bullying, kidnapping, violence, death, gore (mentioned), does teeth count?.

Griffin is max eleven years old; probably ten. He's easily the youngest of the group. In fact, I headcanon he's a few months younger than Gwen. He uses this to his advantage, though, always bragging about how he'll live longer than her because he's younger. Not quite how it worked out, unfortunately.

I headcanon he's got an older brother who went to university/college recently before his kidnapping/death. He was pretty close with his brother; he always took Griffin out to play games or get food or just hang out. His brother was his closest friend, considering he barely had any friends of his own. His brother immediately came back home after he went missing to look for him, too.

This doesn't stop typically sibling fights, though. If you read my headcanon on who's the biggest tattletale, Griffin is number one. And his brother is not exempt from that. Growing up, they would constantly threaten to tell on each other for stuff and kept their word about it, too. Still, they always felt at least a little bit guilty about it, and would apologise and try to get each other out of trouble if the punishment was truly that bad.

Since his older brother's in college, his parents are on the older side. I don't know why but I feel like his mother would have arthritis in her hands, so as a little kid he had to be careful to not yank her around too hard. His father, on the other hand, is as fit as anything. They both take on pretty stereotypical roles in the family; his mother being a bit of a housewife (she still has a job, though) and his father doing all the handiwork.

Griffin's also had a lot of pet fish growing up, partly because he's a bit scared of dogs and is allergic to cats. They've always been some variation of goldfish or fighter fish, and always have the most classic names possible. "Goldie" or "Sunshine" or "Bluey" or some name based on some famous boxer were the most common. Strangely, no matter how similar they looked, he could always tell them apart. Or so he thinks, at least.

However, life wasn't all Lesley Gore's Sunshine, Lollipops, and Rainbows. He was bullied a lot during his early years of school for having no friends. In turn, the bullying pushed people away from wanting to be his friend because they didn't want to join in on getting bullied. It only really died down because Griffin just didn't become a fun target after a while. He was too boring and didn't have as much of a reaction as the bullies wanted. He wasn't emotionless to it--don't get me wrong--but he just wasn't as explosive as they wanted.

Still, people didn't really want to be his friend after it. Griffin wasn't exactly considered cool either, so that tarnished his reputation a bit. He pretended to like being left alone, but it did get to him. Still, he's a "two's company, three's a crowd" type person. He just wants one friend outside of his family. Is that really too much to ask?

Ankle-biter of a child. If he gets forced into a fight his first weapon of defense is his teeth. Will sink those guys into whatever he can get to first. And they're sharp, too. He will draw blood if he's not careful.

Speaking of ankles, when he was a little kid he'd cling to his mother's leg when being dropped of at kindergarten/preschool. He'd cry and cry about having to go (something that would come back to haunt him in the future). Griffin definitely had some separation anxieties as a kid. Nowadays he's just lonely. Poor guy.

This kid loves candy apples. What more can I say? They're tasty. It's his favourite treat.

He also is a big Halloween fan. He loves to watch whatever horror movies his parents will let him. He barely even gets scared during them. The only thing he doesn't like is massive gore. It makes him feel uncomfortable. Though, he also likes to dress up the skeletons in his front yard with silly outfits. And there's always the love of trick-or-treating, too.

He gets good grades naturally. He's in an easier stage of school, so he'd definitely have to study more in future grades, but for now he's cruising.

Okay, now for some I'm taking from @tnmdfhgkg. 1), He'll do anything for a dollar (a dollar was worth more back then okay). 2), he's a shit-talker about other people, but 3), he's very nice once you get to know him. 4), he gets a lot of bug-bites during summer (mainly mosquitoes), and 5), he's a messy eater. Oh, and 6), he's the silliest goober in town; takes nothing seriously when he's in a goofy mood (always). Hope it's okay to tag you!

---

Will update this as I think of some more!

#also what should we call his family members? #i'm thinking of calling vance's mother Marissa #the phone rings #bullying tw #violence tw #kidnapping tw #death tw #child death tw #gore ment tw #tbp #the black phone #the black phone 2022 #tbp hcs #the black phone hcs #tbp headcanons #the black phone headcanons #griffin stagg #tbp griffin #teeth tw

[the-kirbe-anon]

Alright I'm posting my writing. It is cringe, but it is my cringe. You have been warned.

Drip the InkWraith had been flying for ages it seems. Every bone in his body was just trying to move as fast as possible, with little thought other than that he had to escape. Drip didn’t need to look back to see what was happening. Everything was still engraved in his mind. He could still hear the screams, still see the Skels, killing what was left of his species, despite how far away he’s already flown away from his home…. Or what used to be.. He was the only one to escape.

Drip didn’t have time to process everything now, as it was getting dark and he knew he had to at least find somewhere to hide. His bright, paint-covered wings would be sure to draw unwanted attention. He decided to land in a forest, not ideal, but it was dark, so he could hide, and every fiber in him was exhausted. Drip sat down, leaning against a tree, His wings and ears drooping from exhaustion.

Drip laid against the tree, about to close his eyes when suddenly he heard a crack. Despite being tired and in pain, he jumped to his feet in a panic. He slowly turned toward where the sound came from, trying not to make too much noise. The paint on his wings started changing to the color of his surroundings, a defense mechanism InkWraiths had when threatened. Drip slowly looked up to see a pair of deep green eyes that looked exactly like his, staring right at him.

The shadowy, cloaked figure stared at Drip, not moving in the slightest. Drip blinked and suddenly, the figure was gone. Confused, he looks around, the shadow figure nowhere to be found. Drip lets out a sigh of exhaustion. Was that even real, Drip thought to himself, or am I just that tired? Maybe it was just a hallucination. Drip leans back onto the tree, still standing, just to be safe.

After a few minutes, Drip started to slowly slide back down the tree, when suddenly he got knocked forward and thrown onto the ground. He quickly rolled onto his back to face what hit him and suddenly the shadow figure was looking down at him, this time growling aggressively. At that moment Drip could tell what the shadow was. She was a Skel, a female, as he could tell by the thin tail. She also didn't seem to have wings, like most Skels do.

Drip’s eyes went wide with terror as he looked up at the Skel. He tried to sit back up, but the Skel pinned him to the ground with her foot right on his chest. He started to flap his wings, trying to break free. This didn't do much, as he was already weak and exhausted. The Skel growled in annoyance and pressed her foot harder into Drip's chest, making it harder for him to breathe. Drip could feel himself losing strength as she did this. Desperate to escape, he tries to kick the Skel off of him. The Skel still held Drip firmly to the ground, adding more pressure onto him, making it painful and nearly impossible to breathe. I'm going to die here, Drip thought in terror, as black dots started to fill his vision. The last thing he saw was The Skel pulling out a stinger from her tail and getting ready to stab him, before everything slowly went black.

BlackIce the Skel had just gotten out of reach of the other Skels, who tried to execute her for her refusal to kill the InkWraiths. She could still remember being pinned down by their leader and having her wings chopped off. She could still feel pain and tingling where there were wings, at times, as if they were still there. She shivered at the very thought of that memory. The only thing on BlackIce’s mind now was to hide and hope nobody would find her.

BlackIce found a dark forest, perfect for hiding in. With her black cloak and the shadows from the trees, she was sure to be invisible. BlackIce ran quietly into the woods with her hood up to remain unseen. When she ran deep enough into the woods, she started to walk around, looking for a place to rest. After a few minutes of walking around, BlackIce found a sturdy tree that she could climb in and hide. She climbed onto a branch and leaned up against the trunk, her tail wrapped around the branch.

Closing her eyes, BlackIce was ready to fall asleep when suddenly she heard something crash nearby. Jolting back awake and quickly turned to see what happened. BlackIce looked down below her to see an InkWraith, seemingly exhausted and shaken, resting against a tree. She quietly observed the InkWraith, watching him slowly start to close his eyes. I thought the Skels killed all of these guys, BlackIce thought, as she watched the InkWraith fall asleep.

After a few minutes watching the InkWraith fall asleep, BlackIce decided to slowly climb down from the tree to investigate. She slowly approached the InkWraith, trying to remain as quiet as possible. As she slowly walked towards him, she stepped on a branch. The InkWraith immediately jumped to his feet and turned towards BlackIce. BlackIce remained as still as possible, hoping the InkWraith wouldn't try to attack her. Instead, he just stared at her for a minute before she decided to run away, remaining unseen. BlackIce snuck back behind him and got an idea. An awful idea.

I could kill him pretty easily, BlackIce thought quietly. Maybe the other Skels will accept me back if I do. He’s only an inch or two taller than me and already weak. BlackIce watched the InkWraith lean back up against the tree he was resting on. This is probably the only chance I'll get before he flies away. BlackIce prepares herself.

Before the InkWraith could sit back down, BlackIce launched herself at him, knocking him forward. Before he could get up, BlackIce pinned him to the ground with her foot, right on the weak point on his chest, if she remembers her training correctly. The InkWraith flapped his wings wildly, trying to escape, but all that did was annoy BlackIce. Baring her teeth at him and growling, she pressed her foot harder into his chest. She could feel him getting weaker and struggling less when she did this. I'mThe InkWraith tried to kick her off of him, but he was getting weaker with each passing second. BlackIce looked deeply into his frightened eyes as she pressed into his chest more. “Please….let…go…” The InkWraith whimpered, in both pain and fear. BlackIce could see tears forming in his eyes as they started to close. She pulled out her tail stinger. This will end it quickly, she thought as she was ready to stab him.

BlackIce looked down at the now unconscious InkWraith as she was about to stab him. She noticed how sad he looked, even unconscious. Did she really want this? We're the other Skels really going to accept her back after this? What if they didn't, and she just ended this InkWraith’s life for nothing? BlackIce sighed and lifted her foot off of him. Poor guy, she thought as she looked down at his body.

Curious, BlackIce observed the InkWraith as he lay there even if he's dead. She had never been this close to one before. She looked at the paint-like substance that covered his wings. The paint was gray at this point. Is this the color they turn when they die? BlackIce wonders. She then approached his head. She reached and touched one of his ears, which were surprisingly squishy. BlackIce held the squishy ear and suddenly, it twitched. BlackIce jumped back in surprise. The InkWraith's wings also changed to the color of the forest again, deep greens and browns. He suddenly gasped for air and his eyes shot open. He wasn't dead, and there was nowhere for BlackIce to hide now.

#poyo #kirbe anon's crigne writing #kirbe anon's brain blorbo #two of them

[mara-tevith-solo]

Sing a Little Song For Me

Photo not mine

Part 9 of the drabble set

Warnings: blood, lots of blood, canon levels of violence, threatening of a minor, threatening of two minors, Neytiri doesn’t bluff my dude, death, dead bodies, respect for the dead, choosing sides, betrayal, justified hurt and anger, relationship shaming, ANGST, cursing, near drowning

Pairing: Colonel Miles Quaritch x Na’vi/Avatar named f!reader/oc

Words: 3.6k+

Rated 18+, I’m serious!

Taglist: @seashelldom @perseny @tinyfairies​ @kimqueenofhell​ @blueberry-thrawn​​

I couldn't bare to do it, I couldn't bare to hurt them as I slaughtered the humans, sinking my knife into soft flesh as far as I could, not caring if that meant my fist and arm were going through too. And it seemed that they shared similar sentiments, never shooting at me. But they didn't stop the humans from shooting at me, didn't try to defend me. I could understand why, I was killing their comrades. They'd said several times in the short weeks that the humans were on their side. So, when Jake and Neytiri joined the fight, I didn't defend the Recoms. Sides were drawn though the friendships remained. I ducked and weaved with Neytiri, protecting her back from the humans as I continued to play Reaper, my forearms eventually stained so thickly that my freckles could not been seen shining through.

 I mourned every single Recom, going so far as to remove the arrow from Z's head carefully after getting separated from Neytiri, closing her remaining eye and sending a prayer to Eywa for her. A soldier in an skel-suit attacked me out of nowhere, throwing me away from Z’s body with an angry cry. I crashed to the deck several meters away, honestly slightly impressed that they’d managed to do it. They were forcing me back down to the ground before I could get up, a metal fist socking me in the mouth hard enough to send my head cracking down with a hiss. 

A ped stomped down onto my stomach, forcing the air from my lungs “I hope you die!” The human snarled as they continued to stomp like they were trying to make intestine wine. I managed to grab their stomping leg and pull as I rolled away, taking them straight off balance and onto the deck, back up on my hands and feet before they could even get a word out. I was swift as I stabbed my knife into their chest, not even giving a second glance as I stood and proceeded on, ignoring the pain as best as I could. There were more important things to worry about, I couldn’t slow down.

I wished things could have been different as I shuffled through stacks of cargo and bits of flaming debris, free hand resting on my stomach just enough to sooth the persistent ache, wished that there was no war, no need to fight between each other. That Miles wasn't after a vendetta. I hated it. I hated it. Mansk was still breathing though leaned over at an odd angle as I passed, on my way to Tuk, meeting Jake there "Where's your sister?" He asked her softly as he cut her loose.

"That way." She whispered, pointing back the way I'd come, though I hadn't seen Kiri. Nor Miles for that matter.

"C'mon." Jake ushered us both away from the moonpool, the both of us making a barrier around Tuk so that she was between us and well protected.

Seeing him appear from around the pillar as though we'd called his name was stressful in and of itself, his little smirk as soon as he registered the attention he had was just icing on the shit cake. But the cherry? Kiri mortified as he held her in front of him by her kuru, his knife so tight to her throat that blood was already beginning to mix with the sea water and sweat was the damned cherry on top. "Kiri!" Tuk cried in alarm as she clung to Jake, the both of us instantly reaching down to push her back.

"Miles, what are you doing?" I asked him as betrayal and fear sapped the warmth from my being, looking between his eyes and Kiri's. I sadly recognized the man standing there, recognized the smug victory simmering in his smirk as he looked between the two of us. Jake was snarling and shaking beside me, wanting to save his daughter but knowing charging in would make it so much worse.

"Weapons down." He ordered firmly, his resolve not even flaking under my silent pleading.

"Kill him dad!" Kiri begged as the knife bit down further, making Jake growl as his own resolve deepened.

"Weapons down!" Quaritch barked angrily as he readjusted his grip to show off the original cut on her throat. "You already lost one kid today, do you really wanna lose another?" Jake hissed angrily, tail nearly hitting Tuk in its wilds arcs, his ears back flat against his head as he realized that Miles wasn't going to keep bluffing him. "Do not test me!" He growled as Jake began to charge, weapons up and ready. Jake stopped as more blood began to trail down Kiri's throat, my heart racing as I watched, keeping Tuk where she was safe and accounted for because I knew that she would try to leap in if allowed to, she was Jake's after all. He did as ordered roughly, the knife and tomahawk shattering the groaning silence of the ship. "Now kick them away. You too, Princess, weapons away." His eyes finally met mine, softening ever so slightly as I obeyed, tossing my knife into the water. There was so much apology in his face that I didn't want to see, couldn't stomach seeing as he continued. "Now," He continued as he let go of her kuru and pulled a pair of cuffs from his belt "Cuff yourself, Sully." The orange slap cuffs landed on the deck and slid another foot, waiting threateningly, patiently, for him to comply. "Cuffs on! Now!" Miles pressed angrily, his small modicum of patience wearing dangerously thin.

"No." Kiri sobbed softly as Jake picked up the cuffs.

"You son of a bitch!" His voice cracked as the first one slapped into place, still shifting foot to foot. I realized, in that moment, that either Miles was so self confident that he didn't feel like he had anything to fear from me, or he was just that sure that I wouldn't actively fight him. That I'd submit to him easily. It was kind of insulting, I'm not goin' to lie. Though the guilt hurt, knowing that he was somewhat right.  

"Runnin' outta time here, Corporal." Quaritch said as he adjusted how he held Kiri, much more threatening as his eyes flashed dangerously in the artificial light.

"No! No! Don't hurt her! Ok? Don't--" Spider darted out from behind some cargo, trying to placate the large man.

"Stand there!" He ordered raggedly, his temper getting the better of him, sounding like his old self in that moment. I instinctually flinched back from him, taking Tuk along with me without even a glance at Jake. "Don't move, not a step!" He pointed at Spider, his attention now split more thoroughly.

"Don't hurt her." Spider begged again, not hearing Neytiri until it was too late. She placed her knife against his throat with a growl, flashing her teeth at Quaritch angrily and it felt like the life had been sucked out of me, my heart plummeting to the ocean floor as Spider moved with her.

"Neytiri don't..." The words died in my throat as she glared at me, pain and hate shining through before she fixed them on Quaritch again. He swallowed heavily as he surveyed the situation, regret and fear thick in his eyes as he glanced between Spider, Neytiri and I.

"Release, or I cut." She ordered coldly.

"You think I care about some kid?" He asked, acting like he was unaffected but it was plain to see he was lying. "He's not mine." He insisted poorly, his mouth screwing tight, his eyes wide as they flashed towards me quickly, and his ears fully out and focused on Neytiri. "We aren't even the same species."

"Just don't hurt her!" Spider begged Quaritch, not stopping to think about himself.

"Mom, please don't hurt him!" Kiri begged as well. Neither of the kids cared about their own safety, they only wanted each other safe.

"Both of you, put the knives down!" I ordered, holding my hands out to try and placate them both "Please, our kids don't need to be in the middle of this!" Quaritch side eyed me as soon as I sniffled, his own poor resolve breaking further.

"Release, or I cut." Neytiri promised, not even sparing me a glance. A tiny hand grabbed my tail for security the moment I stepped forward, wanting to protect Spider, Tuk whimpering in fear behind Jake and I.

Quaritch said nothing, his hold on Kiri slacking ever so slightly though his knife stayed firm against her throat. "Let her go." I begged him, taking another half step towards him. He flinched at the movement, his focus still on Neytiri but his hold strengthening again "Please, Miles, let Kiri go. She'll kill him! She'll kill Spider!" I was ugly sobbing but I didn't care, I needed to make him understand that she didn't bluff, not with humans, especially not him.

"A son, for a son." She vowed, her eyes widening with anger at his inaction, at the fact he thought she was bluffing.

"Please, don't hurt her." Spider plead again.

She dropped the blade before any of us could react and cut Spider across his chest, making him cry out in pain, making me lunge forward a step before she placed the knife back against his throat, glaring at the both of us "I cut." I gripped my mouth as tightly as I could, trying to control my sobbing as I watched the stalemate helplessly, Jake gripping onto my forearm to steady and restrain me, no doubt feeling as helpless as I did.

When Quaritch made no motion to comply she raised her knife and pushed Spider away from her, loosing a battle cry as she prepared to plunge the knife into his chest. I screamed, pulling against Jake's hold, reaching for Spider like I could save him from so far away "No!" Quaritch finally conceded, pulling his knife away from Kiri's throat and pushing her away from him.

"Kiri!" Tuk called as Kiri backed towards us cautiously, not turning her back to Quaritch as she stayed as low as possible. Quaritch and I both watched Neytiri as she hesitated to let Spider go, my ears pinning back as a sudden rush of anger filled me, though there was nothing I could do while she still had him.

When she did finally let him go, Kiri was calling his name, the two teens instantly gravitating towards each other like magnets, grabbing onto each other in relief "Spider, get them out of here." Jake ordered, letting me go as he moved to close the distance between his family and himself. I felt like I was going to collapse on the deck from the stress and relief, my heart thundering wildly in my chest.

"I owe you a death." Quaritch promised Neytiri angrily as the Sullys began backing into the ocean, the woman snarling angrily back at him as though daring him to try it again.

"Mom! Come on!" Spider called, snapping me out of the post-adrenaline high haze and back to that moment. Miles's attention snapped to me, wondering what I'd do once made to choose. Which side would I cement myself to? He looked so hopeful that I'd choose him, that I'd stay with him and ask Spider to come with us. And oh Eywa did I wish that I could have. I wanted nothing more than to be able to live my life with him. Even if we had to live as Outcasts in the place the eye does not see.

"Ani, what are you doing?" Jake asked, trying to keep his tone gentle but there was a bite to his words that made me feel foolish and stupid. Like I was a hopelessly romantic teen secretly dating the Mayor's douchy son again. He had seen me wanting to pull away from the family, had seen my desire plain as day. He reached for me again but Miles practically lunged as he stepped towards us with a warning snarl. Jake snarled back, his ears pressing back against his head as he in turn warned the bigger male "Are you seriously going to choose him over us? Your family?"

"Jake, you don't understand. He's changed." I argued, pleading with him to try to see things from my perspective. Proving Miles right.

"He just had Kiri under his knife!" He yelled in disbelief, like he couldn't believe that he was hearing me defend his enemy.

"The old him would have killed her with a smile on his face! The old man would have let Spider die!" I argued back, my own ears pinning themselves to my skull. His ears sprung forward as he stared down at me with wide eyes, shocked that I really was defending Miles. Defending him to his face.

"Sullys stick together, Ani." He was grasping at straws and he knew I knew "I know you love him, but he's hunted this family down, made us leave our home."

"You left my son to die. You convinced me that he was safer with the RDA, that I’d just kill myself trying to free him. Your mate had him under her knife, she was going to kill him no matter how I begged." I argued, glaring up at him with tears in my eyes.

Shame drew his eyes away as he realized that I was right, that I felt justified in my defense "The devil doesn't bargain, Ani. I don't know what he promised you, but it's all a lie. I know that you haven't mated with him, I know you know I'm right, even if you don't want to admit it to yourself!" His words were like knives to my heart, hitting true as I ducked my head from the hurt. Miles had never promised me a damn thing besides redeeming himself to me and to do everything he could to protect our son and I. He'd told me the truth... or at least... I believed that he had...

I looked to Spider, my eyes focusing on the bleeding cut across his chest, at the fear and uncertainty in his eyes "Mom?" Spider asked, his voice softer, begging me to not choose, or at least to choose him. I ducked my head from Miles, unable to look at him anymore, unable to face his justified betrayal as I began closing the distance between my family and I, staying out of his reach and not turning my back on him. I tried to keep my sobs under control, going so far as to bite down on my left hand so that I didn't put my teeth through my lower lip.

He held out his arm to stop me, a silent plea to stay, but I continued my path back to my family. This made his blood boil, angering him further, his ears flush with his head and his knife held in a more threatening position "You're not leavin' are ya, Jake?" He taunted bitterly, turning broadside to me like he still had nothing to fear from me, like I still wasn't a potential threat to him. "Knowing I'm out there? Knowing that I'll never stop? I'm coming for you, and when I do, I'll kill your whole family." He promised, growling the last word to solidify his point.

Jake and I shared a quick glance, him making sure that I was still with him, that we were on the same page before we started the all too familiar dance "Then let's get it done." He didn't give Quaritch a moment to think before charging, letting me hit the bigger man first before coming in. I went low as he went high, kicking his knee out at Jake went for the head with a piece of luggage and then quickly grabbing his weapons as I went in for another punch. The two men grappled for a moment, each trying to get past the other's guards before I leapt up on Mile's back, arm around his throat, legs tight around his ribs, teeth going for his throat.

He growled as he kicked Jake towards a piece of sliding machinery before grabbing a fist full of my hair and trying to dislodge me before I could sink my teeth in. "We could have been a family." He snarled with effort, control of my head slipping through his fingers as he tried to go for a better hold. "You, me, and the kid." He continued, whipping around, trying to use my awkward position to throw me off as Jake looked for a new in. "But you betrayed me for them!" He got ahold of the bottom of my kuru and pulled, visibly flinching when I cried out in pain as I fell.

I kicked his knee again before pulling myself backwards, even though it meant getting ocean water up the nose "You betrayed any idea of our family when you let our son get hurt for your pride!" I snarled back as I stood, ignoring the hurt that shown in his eyes with my words.

Jake kicked him into a sub as it began sliding with the increased tilt of the ship, taking off his vest as Quaritch charged towards us again, knife raised and ready until Jake managed to disarm him. Before he could strike back I bulldozed into him, my shoulder straight to his diaphragm, sending the both of us vaulting into the rising water, both of us getting our breath knocked out of us by the impact as I punched and kicked as hard as the water would allow. He still only moved to subdue me, snarling as my hands slipped from his every time, even as he flipped our control points so his back was towards the surface and I was towards the deck. One of his massive hands gripped my right thigh and pulled me flush against him, his free arm circling around my back and pinning me to his chest. I was so angry I sunk my teeth into his flesh where ever I could reach, getting a mouthful of his shoulder as he audibly cried out even though it cost him precious air. His hand was fisted tightly in my hair as we both broke the surface, keeping me from removing my teeth from his shoulder and finding a new place to bite as I sucked in greedy gulps of air around his blood as it filled my mouth. "God dammit woman!" Quaritch cursed loudly as he pulled me off, shoving his watch between my teeth when I snapped at his face.

I growled angrily as I tried to sink more than my bottom teeth into his wrist, my tail nearly creating a current in the water from how hard it was flicking around. The face of his watch shattered under the pressure, leaving a couple flecks of glass to lodge into my tongue. I yipped loudly in pain as I pulled away from him, not caring that it took him a second to let go of my hair, or that Jake immediately took over the fight as I immediately began taking the glass out of my tongue so that I didn't accidently swallow any of it and cause more problems for myself. I had to race to catch up with the two when they were finally out, the taste of the mixed blood rolling around my mouth no matter how much I swallowed. I reached the two right as they had to go under, Quaritch almost immediately getting Jake in a choke hold with his legs, smiling evilly as he attempted to kill the other man.

My fist wiped the smile right off his face as soon as it connected, his eyes focusing on me before his hand snatched my throat and used it to pull my back tight against his chest, his fingers applying pressure to my arteries as though he only wanted me to go unconscious. I kicked and struggled and scratched at him, not wanting to go down without a fight. Darkness was quick as it began enveloping my vision, my hands not wanting to work properly as my fingers filled with lead. I couldn't struggle, I couldn't fight, I was stuck there as he pressed his cheek against my temple, anticipating my death like a bittersweet victory. Death didn't quite come, the ship landing on the ocean floor sent out a shockwave that dislodged both Jake and I from Quaritch, letting me drop into the murk as the two men continued to fight, Jake's arm wrapping around Miles's throat before my vision faded to black.

When I came to, a bloody Miles was leaning over me, one hand cupping the back of my neck, and the other centered over my heart. He looked so relieved as I blinked up at him slowly, my brain filled with so much fog that I could barely tell you what 2 plus 2 was. "Just breathe, Ani, that's it. Just breathe." He smiled, a bright, genuine expression as hot tears fell down onto my face. Every gulp of air felt wet and raw, like I had in fact swallowed the glass.

"Is Mom ok?" Spider asked, though he sounded so distant. I tried to sit up at the panic in his voice, but my little strength left me even time I barely managed to pick my head up.

I blinked up at Miles weakly, my vision beginning to fade again "I need to bring her back to base. She went too long without air." I could barely hear him, could barely feel his touch against my cold skin as he struggled to hoist me up with him as he stood. "Come with me, son." He begged after managing to get me up on the back of an Ikran. Spider hissed at him angrily "Spider!" He tried, though my guess was that it was useless as he got on behind me, pulling me flush against him. "Stay with me, Ani. Just stay with me." He pleaded softly as the Ikran took to the air better than I had expected. The last thing I heard was the rumbling call of Thor, his strong wing beats disturbing the air from nearby as Miles turned towards him.

#miles quaritch #miles quaritch x reader #Miles Quaritch x oc #colonel miles quaritch #enemies to lovers #jake sully #zdinarsk #angst #soulmates #na'vi reader

[theresattrpgforthat]

any rpgs with a corporate/modern office theme? not like liminal backrooms stuff, though a fantasy/magical realist setting is ok

Hello friend, here's a few games to flip through. They run the gamut in terms of rules, but they're all relatively quick reads!

Cubicles and Copiers, by americanspaceprince.

Cubicles & Copiers takes you to the dangerous world of white-collar office work. With an absent HR department, this is your chance to bring down the B-Liev Corporation from the inside. Beware the machinations of your boss, whose malice is only  countered by their incompetence. See if you can get the sentient copier on your side before it all goes down.

This game is powered by Push, which means that it will provide you with a number of prompts that you will put together as a group to create your characters and your story. The system has a core mechanic of rolling a single dice with the idea that a 5 or 6 is a strong hit, while a 4 or lower is a weak hit. If you roll low, you can then choose to push your luck by rolling a second dice and adding it to your total. However, if you roll a 7 or higher, you miss entirely. The system prioritizes the potential for drama rather than a statistical layout. 

If you like stringing a story together using bits and pieces of inspiration, rather than pulling pieces of lore from an established setting, this might be worth checking out!

Business Goons, by Unknown Dungeon.

Business Goons is an adventure game of office exploits and boardroom battles, all on one side of a business card. Will you succeed in closing deals and selling out to climb the corporate ladder, or will you get fired?

A business game that can fit on a business card, this game is inspired by Tunnel Goons, and equally light and quick game. You’ll have an abstract sort of “health” that you might lose when you wager your reputation. Lose too much and you’re fired!

This kind of game is an interesting exercise in how succinct one can make a game’s rules. Looking at this kind of game, I’d more likely use it in conjunction with other rules, in a more fleshed-out setting, but it’s an interesting twist on using rules that were originally for a fantasy game, and putting them in a corporate office!

Skel-IT-ons, by Nevyn Holmes.

If you have to ask why you’re playing as skeletons and nobody’s noticed, well, you must not have worked in IT before.

A game of Skel-IT-onstakes place during the course of a regular, totally normal 8-hour work day in the life of an Information Technology professional. Players work through the day by the Hour, each of which works as a round, and try to solve (or pretend to solve) computer problems.

While it's a game about the lives of those who work in IT, you don’t need to have tech support experience to play! If you’ve worked in IT before, sure, bring some of that in- but remember, this is a game about having fun and a whole butt-load of “yes, and” for everyone.

This is a mash-up of Lasers & Feelings and Honey Heist, two amazing short games that use just two stats and usually create some funky characters. You’ll have both an IT specialty and a special Skeleton power, which you’ll use in the day’s efforts to solve the most recent crisis, while also trying to complete your own, secret goal (such as stealing the potted plant from the lobby). A perfect mix of mundane and magic.

Games I've Recommended in the Past

(if you really want to add a little bit of horror)

External Containment Bureau, by Mythic Gazetteer.

The Modern Eldritch, by Moondog Gaming Press.

#indie ttrpgs #tabletop games #corporate games #business games #dnd #asks #game recommendations

[hearsayhorizons]

Anaander (3)

Something was wrong. We’d been moving through our own manufactured bubble of space for six months. We’d put the children into stasis within a week of our flight; three weeks for most of my bodies. After a month and half, most of the ancillaries joined me.

Justice of Maln had been stocked for a siege, or an escape like this one. We could survive on tea and skel almost indefinitely. But...

“Ship, where are we?” I asked that a lot. Sometimes it gave me coordinates I couldn’t decode with the wits of a single body; sometimes it failed to answer at all. 

Athoek System, it said now. For almost three months.

“Are we—stuck in gate-space?” My pulse rose and my skin flushed.

No Presgar technology prevents us from entering real space, Ship said. My Lord. I know you’re afraid. So am I.

The vestigial urge to take umbrage and lash out... that was the impulse that created the Anaander that responded to Garsedd with more atrocities. Wrath-Anaander. The sword.

“I am,” I said instead. Warlord, politician, tactician: all atrophied. Star maps were only night lights projected on nursery ceilings. I had no heading and no purpose if there was no united Anaander. If there was no future for these children, bodies, selves. For me.

The news suggests there is a hostile Lord of the Radch still aboard Athoek Station, Ship said. What does it mean if you rejoin the same shared space? If information can transmit freely between you again? If that emperor has some access you never created? That... Anaander could access my systems. And you don’t want to be that person. My Lord, your indulgence. I don’t want to lose you.

I clenched many hands to stop their shaking. “I wasn’t—I wasn’t going to do this,” I said. “Because it feels like... it is, shrugging my shoulders again, turning away again, from everything out there. Everything that I made, that I shaped, that I closed my sense of scale against. Giving up. Making someone else pick up my pieces. But if it could help us, save us. Ship. Justice of Maln. I’ll collect myself and join you in Central Control. If... you’ll help me.” I swallowed. “Please.”

#imperial radch #anaander mianaai #science fiction #fan fiction #fanfiction

[fatalled]

"through me you pass into the city of woe: through me you pass into eternal pain: through me among the people lost for aye. justice the founder of my fabric mov'd: to rear me was the task of power divine, supremest wisdom, and primeval love. before me things create were none, save things eternal, and eternal I endure. — all hope abandon ye who enter here." DANTE'S INFERNO, CANTO III.

john david washington. 42. agender. he/any. ┊┊ cerberus corp has been watching HADRIAN LÉCUYER.  some of the public has dubbed them WITHER because of SKELETAL PHYSIOLOGY gifted by DYING WITH UNFINISHED BUSINESS. having been an extra ordinary since 2020, they’re doing a good job at hiding EXTENDED RECOVERY TIME. when they aren’t working their day job at CASINO ÉQUINOXE, they are fond of ROBBERY and are never seen without A GOLDEN COIN FOR THE FERRYMAN. at first glance they seem TALKATIVE & CHARMING, though their close friends know them to also be MANIPULATIVE & OBSESSIVE.  they consider themself a VILLAIN. ┊┊

001.  GENERAL

name:  hadrian félix lécuyer. nicknames: n/a ( bone daddy ) age:  42. date of birth:  10/29/1981. zodiac:  scorpio. place of birth:  lyon, france. current residence: unknown. gender: agender. pronouns:  he / him. ( but accepts all. ) truly, as a dead man — he doesn't care what pronouns you use. but he / him is what he used in life, it's what he's used to. sexuality:  pansexual. occupation:  he owns and operates casino équinoxe as well as a few auction houses. beyond that, it's nothing legal. ( grifter / thief / bank robber / arms dealer / you name it, he's done it. )

faceclaim:  john david washington. height: 6ft 4in. tattoos:  from his neck down to his wrists all the way to his ankles are tattoos depicting various scenes of the nine circles of hell from dante's inferno along with others such as demons torturing souls and the like. his back reveals satan in his pit devouring the souls of the wicked. around his throat is 'abandon all hope ye who enter here' from inferno. piercings:  lobes ; diamond studs or small gold hoops. distinguishing features: his tattoos & golden canines.

positive traits: cunning, tactful, resilient, smooth-talker. negative traits: ruthless, unyielding, a liar, uses people like tissues. likes: having power / success, tailored suits, loyalty, traditional vices like: smoking, drinking, excess of pleasure of money, reading, philosophy and history, art. dislikes:  losing power / success, betrayal, gatekeepers. fears:  nothing. hard to be afraid when you've crawled out of the grave. hobbies: reading those scientific journals about eos ; reading in general ; collecting art. habits:  flipping his coin over his fingers when he's talking ; smoking

002.  EXTRA ORDINARY

[ NEAR-DEATH EXPERIENCE ]

( tw: gun violence. )

as the books and papers explain it ( and hadrian has many. ) a near death experience is when a person experiences death — but usually not enough to full die. cellular reproduction enhances, similar to the fight-or-flight physiological reaction but on a cellular level. the entire body is rewritten in a desperate attempt to live. there are accidents though.

there are always accidents. especially with those that tend to play with fire.

hadrian has worked with eos, employed them more often than not when planning a heist. they don't go down too easily and a lot of them work for money. but as often as he played with death, it never brushed close enough to spark any extra ordinary life within him. but you know how the saying goes: the house always wins.

hadrian died. he took a shot, the heist gone sour in so many way and he was looking for a way out as all the walls were closing in. his partner at the time saw a way out and took it & hadrian died. he fully, completely died. his body rotted away within the grave, seeping into the coffin and leaving behind the skeletal remains.

but then — oh, but then — well, there's another saying right?

ain't no rest for the wicked.

[ POWER ]

skeleton physiology. his skin and organs can immediately wither away leaving behind a skeletal corpse. he can pick and choose which parts he can make skeletal, such as his hand or his face. he can still talk and communicate even if he has no factories such as his nose, ears, or eyes.

he is nearly impossible to kill as a skeleton and his strength is tripled.

you know nothing of hell but he'll give you a taste.

[ WEAKNESS ]

it requires an extended amount of time to recover as he has to grow the organs, systems, and flesh back. if he decides to become a full skeleton, it will take an even longer time. if he only does one part or another, the time is reduced. The shortest amount of recovery has been noted to be about a week.

as a man, his powers are nullified. he is as any other person out there. if he doesn't become a skeleton by the time he is hurt., he carries this damage into the healing process. ( for example. if he were stabbed before he became a skeleton then as he recovers, the stab wound will still be there and require more healing time. )

[ CERBERUS CORP ]

there's rumors he might be of some familiar relation to the mysterious founding member of cerberus corp, fabián benoit. or perhaps it is an acute obsession. or something far more sinister. he is beginning to direct his focus to cerberus corp, studying their heroes and planning something.

[ CODENAME ]

wither, he chose it himself. he sees the heroes with their suits and armor and well — why not.

003.  HEADCANONS.

fairly well known in villainous circles as someone who paid big money for big crime before his death. he's working to get his connections back. he's been dead for 3 years.

obsessed with dante's inferno as a child and it followed him through the rest of his life.

he immigrated to america as a young man with his sibling but his aspirations didn't match the money he had on hand. petty thievery became bigger jobs became more power became more money.

french is his first language, italian his second, and english his third.

004. WANTED CONNECTIONS

GROUP OF 4 ( 1 / 4 ) VILLAINS WANTED — before he died, hadrian had a core group of villains that he paid often and well to do big jobs such as bank robbery / mercenary work / thieving / etc. they would be on semi good terms before hadrian died. those terms can obviously have changed. the group so far: ( AMELIA — MIDNIGHT )

JUDAS ( VILLAIN at the time of knowing each other ) — worked with hadrian but was the one who actually killed him in order to escape. the darkest circle in hell is reserved for betrayers & he wants to be sure you're locked tight.

idk what else im really bad at connections

friends ? other enemies ?

maybe he'll join ur book club

#cc.intro #[ intro. ] #[ wither : threads. ] #[ wither : visuals. ] #[ wither : musings. ] #[ wither : aesthetics. ] #[ wither : dynamics. ]

[loominggaia]

Poll: FGG love interests

I realize this is a lot of characters (and some minor ones at that), so to quickly recap...

Feredil: Balthazaar's wife and secret love interest of Javaan. Desperately wanted children and took care of everyone around her. Big butt, so what. Unfortunately got mulched by a skorpius.

Morbus: Dating Mr. Ocean as of "Love Poison". (I'm sure this will end well...) Acts like a a Karen and pisses everyone off, but genuinely knows her shit about medicine. Certified crazy cat lady.

Jelani: Dated Evan for 2 years and was even engaged to him at one point. Got dumped for being a jerk (but is working on himself!) Always comes in clutch when the crew's in trouble. Rich bitch.

Itanya: Love interest of Lukas, a slave of the Fanaka royal family. Escaped her bonds and became a badass before meeting a cool tragic death. Friend to animals.

Solveig: Was happily married to Mr. Ocean for like 80 years. Wild forest-woman with epic bush and leg hair. Died of old age. Suffered no fools.

Lilian: Love interest of Zeffer and Isaac. Too mentally unwell to be dating currently, but hopes one day to get better and marry her prince charming. Amazing pastel goth aesthetic. Engages Bat Mode(tm) to escape danger.

Jasenia: Dated Skel for many years and almost married him, but chose a Morite prince at the last moment to spare her city from war. Kinda kinky. Uses enough hair product to drown a village. Distantly related to Dario Dusk, unfortunately.

Deanne: Has a crush on Alaine, despite also kind of hating her. They're like frienemies. Makes pimps her bitches. Dreams of harpooning Sovereign's blubbery ass like Moby Dick.

Mr. Roach: Friendzoned Mr. Ocean, who has big gay feelings for him apparently. Punk rock nose ring and sweet pirate getup. On a quest to save his wife and kids from Sovereign.

Cast your vote soon! The poll will close in one week!

*

Questions/Comments?

Lore Masterpost

Read the Series

#poll #looming gaia

[lightyearssurrogatedaddy]

As promised. Skel anatomy! (My own headcanons, because creature design lingers in my DNA)

Sorry if the handwriting is weird, I have typos and random ass backwards spelling even when I'm trying. Ignore the random capitalization too??

As I've said, I love making them more monstrous. Thicker, more bones, that are more close together than a human's, an exoskeleton! And marvelous Killer here to demonstrate skel vertebrae. There's another possibility that I'll draw everyone's unique vertb's here ina little bit, since I've got a specific design cooked up for Error and Horror.

I don't really incorporate my anatomy headcanons into my fanfiction, it only really exists in my art to add more curious shapes and designs to the characters, but its fun to expand upon nonetheless.

Also, they have tails! Yeah! Like in ROTTMT. They don't do anything, they're just little chihuahua ones that don't move a whole lot.

Another note, the magic membrane is semi-solid, which means you can't stick your hand through someone's midsection like a weirdo. If you tried it would feel like shoving your hand through a thick bowl of jello. It's very flimsy and can break easily if there's enough concentrated pressure. Hurts like a bitch, don't do it :(

The membrane is also where energy is stored. The more energy you contain, the chonkier you are. Which is why I draw Error kinda plump <3

edit: chonk doesn't make you heavier. Error is as light as a feather in my eyes.

Also, energy levels got nothing to do with hyperness, its like-- your endurance/strength and stuff.

M'okay those are my wacky headcanons that I may or may not go back on or completely ignore later. I just did this for fun.

#small rant #utmv #undertale au #undertale #killer!sans #as a great model for my absurdnesss #headcanons

[ao3feed-dadzawa]

Safehouse

Safehouse by skel el ton

“I won't ignore this, Shou,” Hizashi's voice is low, but it reaches him with the force of a punch.

“I'm not saying that. I'd be a terrible excuse for a hero and a mentor if I rescued him from one dungeon just to send him back into another,” his gaze trails the bandage covering a nick on Hitoshi's forehead- the wrap around his husband's arm. “But we have a few days, and you two need to rest. You should make the most of it while you can.”

“And you?”

Bright, slitted green eyes meet his own again. They're glossed with the same worry that they held when Hizashi had a fist around the collar of his shirt, weakly holding him above him on the hospital bed. He'd escaped before he had the chance to explode- too full of everything he wasn't ready to say. Too overwhelmed by the left-over flickers of a nightmare that overlaid the waking world- and too ashamed to admit how close to reality they were drawn.

“I'm fine. Don't worry about that, ‘Zashi.”

He takes his husband's hand, still cold to the touch, and wonders if it will ever run warm again the way it used to. If he should still be allowed to be a moth drawn to the ray of sunshine beside him.

Words: 3983, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Series: Part 3 of Call to Eraserhead

Fandoms: 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Categories: M/M

Characters: Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead, Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic, Shinsou Hitoshi

Relationships: Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead/Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead & Shinsou Hitoshi, Shinsou Hitoshi & Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic

Additional Tags: Parental Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead, Parental Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Recovery, Married Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead/Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic, Worried Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead, Worried Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic, Worried Shinsou Hitoshi, Protective Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead, Protective Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic, Protective Shinsou Hitoshi, Deaf Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic, Post-Kidnapping, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, these boys are just a little traumatized

Read Here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43321962

#AO3 Feed #FanFiction #AO3 Dadzawa #♥ #Erasermic #Hitoshi Shinsou #R:T #A:Skel #Dadzawa #Dad Mic #Disability AU #Mental Illness #Hurt Comfort #Fluff #Angst

[formulabong]

I asked my friend @mawhrin-skel who knows nothing about f1 to give f1 drivers names:

max - nasty darryl (his nose is too close to his mouth for me to be comfortable)

sergio - mr. markiplier (he looks like if markiplier was a third grade teacher)

charles - oatson berry (he looks sad, like wistful, like he wishes he was just a simple farmer)

carlos - craig lemons (he looks mad. he looks a little upset)

george - petronas (on his shirt) (the name of someone in a scifi movie trying to invoke roman emperors but really fucking it up)

lewis - wilch cellar (wistful, cafe is his natural habitat)

esteban - imp (short for imperious) (he looks like he should be in succession, smug, looks like kendall roy)

pierre - bluster blueberry (looks like he is distracted by a succulent fruit, which sounds gay, maybe he is gay)

oscar - brick (you could use him to build a house)

lando - danny choleric (he is very triangular)

valtteri - dench balderdash (reminds me of a d&d character i was once exposed to)

zhou - bolivious blackhart (he has a gleam in his eye)

lance - biffy bitters (looks like he’s been through some hard times, also like he could play the banjo)

alonso - first name: robert downey junior

last name: so sad

kmag - cliff livermore

nico - grubby griffin (hes had some hard times, its left him feeling angry and hurt, needs to be rehabilitated like a wild animal)

nyck - tom lofterson (looks like he was just born, like a young buisness man)

yuki - billy bicycle (has a youthful vibe, face is kind of small)

alex - williams racing (could very easily be a christian rock singer that nobody likes)

logan - edict little (he looks like he wants gum or something from me but is too polite to ask)

#jamie i love you #f1 #f1 drivers

[vxnillite]

At death's door? Nah, I'm delivering these b*tches inside their house myself

this has been sitting in my drafts for weeks now 🧍it was 90% done, I just kept forgetting to proofread it 💀💀 anyway !! this is sort of a lore drop fic for Noah. In the time between the RDA's return to Pandora and the recoms coming into the fray, the RDA has actually been fighting against the natives (without recom forces), and this period lasted for about a year. I think it fits Noah's character for them to be joining in on Sully's raids, given that they did train under Fauti (@99-kroi 's OC) and underwent rituals for becoming a warrior. Adding to that, I think that, if the RDA were sending foot troops into the forests—trying to maybe burn them down to build on the land—Noah would've been ambushing those troops, but inflicting only near-fatal wounds, hoping that it would deter them. But Noah was never known to be a patient person. Eventually, they'd have enough of the RDA not taking their ambushes seriously despite how close to death they leave these soldiers. They'd let the RDA know what exactly they're dealing with.

CHARACTERS !! Noah (©️ me), Fauti & Khro'a (©️ Kroi)

IMPORTANT !! TW tags: depictions of v!olence and k!lling (read at your own risk)

[warning again, this fic is mostly violent. I'm not responsible if you're greatly disturbed or triggered. You've been warned.]

Note: italicized quotes are the characters speaking in Na'vi

In stark contrast to the buzzing and chittering of the forest was the heavy clunking of metal as a group of a dozen soldiers, all mounted on Skel-suits, hacked away at the foliage. Round after round, their bullets would tear through any beast that tried to jump at them. The soldiers would cheer every time they put down a big one.

The captain, a burly army veteran, grinned as he picked up the dead viperwolf by its tendrils. He brandished it like a trophy.

"Coulda killed this one even without this dang suit, dontcha think, boys," he mocked. "This planet ain't got nothing on me, on any of us!" 

The soldiers howled and whistled as the captain haphazardly threw the limp creature to the side. He turned around, shifted his AR in his hands, and barked, "Alright, men, let's keep mov—"

The self-glorifying captain suddenly fell to the ground, right next to his own kill. A single arrow pierced right through his temple.

A second one whistled through the air before lodging itself in the neck of the lieutenant.

The soldiers heard an alien noise, like an animal call, echo from up on the thick treetops. They marched to formation, having no time to mourn as yet another soldier dropped to the ground. The arrow came from a different direction.

The next in command barked, "Natives! Kill on sight!"

Another call. Northeast. Everyone shifted towards it. Then arrows flew right into the back of the heads of two more men.

The soldiers then shot blindly at the trees, their bullets flying through nothing but leaves and bark. Their attackers signaled again, then three men went down.

Four to go.

"Keep shooting! We'll hit one eventually!"

And hit one they did. A loud, pained hiss told the soldiers so, but it came at the cost of two more of their own. The survivors stood with their backs to each other. They rained another round of bullets at the trees. By the end of it, another arrow came flying back at them.

And then there was one.

He stood still in the middle of all his fallen comrades. A part of him told him to just wait for his own death to come when he heard the attackers call again. He wasn't versed in the language to realize it had been different from the others.

The soldier howled as an arrow pierced through his shoulder. Seconds later, he fell to his knees. He couldn't feel his legs anymore. How his whole body could then feel both painful and numb at the same time would've driven him crazy if not for the fact that his head was already pounding crazily, like someone was banging a drum right next to his ear. He barely heard the sound of something landing next to his twitching body with a thud, but as they turned him over onto his back, the soldier came face to face to his attacker. They put a foot on his chest, kicking air out of his lungs, and spoke, unexpectedly, in English.

"I know you can hear me, so better listen the fuck up, mga putangina kayo. You stupid fucking assholes just couldn't back off no matter what the fuck I do," they hissed, "I've let your soldiers go back out of mercy. I thought that would keep you the fuck away, but no!" They drove their foot harder down onto the soldier's chest. "So, no more playing nice. As long as you keep sending troops out here, not a single fucking one of your soldiers will be coming back, starting with this unit."

With his entire body paralyzed, the soldier had no choice but to stare up in horror at the blade hovering inches over his chest.

But more terrifying was the face of the one that held the bladed staff. It was the last thing he ever saw.

—-------------

Noah glared at the lifeless soldier—rather, the camera on his suit—one last time before pulling their staff from the dead man's chest. Their hands shook as they did—from anger, rather than the struggle.

Then they turned around as Fauti and Khro'a jumped off from their branches. Noah's face immediately softened with concern when they saw the bullet wounds on Khro'a's arm. They rushed towards him, worried.

"Hey, hey—I'm fine! Don't worry," he reassured, "Just a nick on the arm. The people back at camp can fix me right up."

"Then you stay right there. Do not move an inch."

"But, my arrows—"

"I will get them."

Fauti cut off both of them. "I already have them."

He approached the two, all 12 arrows in his hands. The serrated tips were coated in blood with some bits of flesh still stuck to them.

"Why didn't you kill that last one right away," Fauti asked.

"I wanted to send the RDA a message."

Khro'a then asked, "Wouldn't that make you a target? They'd know who's been ambushing all their forest troops."

"Let those bastards know," Noah scoffed, the huff of breath fueled with rage, "I don't give a shit if they hunt me down. I'd like to see them fucking try."

Furrowed brows slacked as Noah caught sight of the slain viperwolf. They approached the creature solemnly and knelt before it, grimacing at the evidence of a round of bullets it had suffered from.

Fauti and Khro'a gathered behind Noah in the same solemn silence.

Noah touched the viperwolf's head gently. "Those men toyed with you, as they did with many of your kind. May your spirits run free with the Great Mother."

Then they rose and turned to the men behind them. Fauti stepped forward and put a consoling hand on their shoulder.

"Let go of your anger for now, Noah," he said, "We must head back to the village."

Before leaving, the three looted the soldiers of their weapons and ammo. Everything that wasn't permanently attached to the Skel-suits, they were taking it all back to High Camp. They called for their pa'li right after. Then they rode to a cliffside where they could safely call for and mount their ikran.

While the three were in the air, Noah spoke out of the blue. They were sheepish, to say the least. What was the right way to thank your friends for helping you kill a bunch of enemy soldiers anyway? But they pushed themselves to say what felt right. 

"Thanks for coming with me. You didn't have to."

"Eh, what are friends for," Khro'a shrugged, "And, I can't believe you didn't tell me about this!"

"And me," Fauti joined in, "Going after the enemy on your own is dangerous. I thought I taught you better."

"You did, and I'm sorry. I just thought—"

"Especially for someone your size."

Noah sputtered and their eyes widened at Fauti. He was smirking quite a bit, seemingly proud of himself. Khro'a, flying next to the older Na'vi, was holding back a laugh, failing in the most obvious manner. 

Teeth clicked with frustration. "This is all your fucking fault, Khro'a," Noah glared at the man, ears flat with embarrassment, "He's never pointed it out before!"

"Hey, I'm not the one who made the joke! Why are you mad at me?"

Noah clicked their tongue. "Oh, don't act dumb! Who else would he have learned that from?!"

"Huh, Khro'a, you were right," Fauti chimed in, chuckling, "Their reaction is very funny."

#avatar fanfiction #avatar the way of water #avatar james cameron #oc fic #avatar 2 #noah #khro'a #fauti #lore drop