#3 piece sectional living room set

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[mostly-imagines]

Guard Dog vol. II

jason todd x fem!reader

aka don’t fuck with jason’s gf pt. II

3 in 1 blurbs

warnings: mild standard gotham violence, in the 3rd section: attempted sexual assault and panicky thoughts afterwards from reader

“Sweetheart, this is…not good.”

You turn your head over to him, where he’s frowning, hands on his hips as he inspects your bedroom window.

You tilt your head, looking it over from your place on the couch. “What’s wrong with it?”

He sighs, “Well for one, the lock is broken. But even if it weren’t, this thing would be so easy to break.”

“It’s the lock the place came with.” You shrug. At least it has a lock. In Gotham that’s kind of asking a lot.

“Yeah, I can tell.” He frowns at the window once again, moving over to stand behind the couch. “I’m getting you better locks.” He looks to you, “I can install them tomorrow?”

You tilt your head up to look at him, “You don’t need to get me new locks, Jay…”

“Okay.” He kisses your head, “I’m getting them.”

You sigh in defeat, though your smile makes it lose its credibility. “Tomorrow’s fine. I assume you’re staying the night, then?”

He makes his way to the kitchen as he says, “Well, I’m not leaving you alone here with this piece of shit the only thing between you and Gotham.”

“I’ve lived here for two years.” You say flatly.

“Don’t remind me.” He mumbles as he moves behind the counter. “Actually, your door chain’s broken too, isn’t it?” It is, but that’s his own fault.

You had a long day a couple weeks ago and had a very long, very hot shower the second you got home. Unfortunately, it had slipped your mind to text him that you were home safe and he’d broken through the chain in one try to make sure you were okay.

You hum, “It wasn’t doing much anyways.” Clearly.

He grimaces as he heats up the stove for dinner.

You laugh lightly, “What?”

He looks back at you with a frankly adorable frown, “I don’t like that.”

You’d never thought much of it. You hadn’t had any—well, many—problems living here before, and you still had your deadbolt and handle lock.

“It’s okay. I’m safe here.”

He looks like he strongly disagrees. He comes back over, sitting next to you, taking your face in his hands. “Will you please let me set up some security measures around here?”

“Did Jason Todd just say please?” You say in faux-shock.

He rolls his eyes at you, “I’m serious.”

You sigh, contemplatively. “I don’t want my apartment looking like the Home Alone set.”

He laughs at that, “It’s not going to. You won’t even notice most of them. Just do it for me, please?”

“I’ll agree, but only because I know you’re going to do it anyways and I’d like to pretend I have control over this.” That’s not true, you’d agree to literally anything if he said please that sweetly again, but that’s your business.

“Fair enough.” He smiles, kissing your cheek.

No, it’s not fair at all.

It’s late. You’re not even sure how late but the city has calmed from its usual noises, indicating that your boyfriend will be home soon.

You’re coming up heavy on cramps tonight and according to the mockingly empty spot in your medicine cabinet, you’re out of ibuprofen. Yeah, it’s late, but the store on the corner is a three minute walk and fuck your stomach hurts. Jason wouldn’t like it if you went out without telling him though, so maybe you should wait until—

The sound of the living room window sliding open breaks you away from your thoughts, followed by a clatter of something hitting the ground.

You walk back into the dimly lit room, finding your boyfriend sliding the window shut again, holsters abandoned on the ground. He turns and collapses onto the couch face first, body immediately gone limp.

“Hey, baby.” You bite back a laugh, coming over to rub his muscled back from behind the couch. He groans into the cushion in response. “Why don’t you go get in bed?”

He hums almost imperceptibly, sitting up and rubbing his eyes roughly with his palms.

He stands and takes your hand in his as he passes by, tugging you towards the bedroom. The deep ache in your abdomen reminds you of your earlier train of thought. You pull your hand back, stopping in your tracks.

He turns back to you with a frown, wanting to know what could possibly be getting in his way of falling asleep, holding you close.

“I gotta go pick up some ibuprofen. I’ll be right back.” You say quietly, not wanting to disturb the quietness of the night for him. His frown deepens as you head towards the door, watching you.

You’ve got your purse in hand and are reaching for the handle when you hear his footsteps following in suit. “Hey, it’s okay. Stay here, I’m just going to the 24 hour store on the corner.”

He shakes his head, “You’re not going out in Gotham alone at two in the morning. Put your coat on, it’s cold.”

You do as you’re told, shrugging the coat on as you glance over at him. “Jason, it’s okay. You’re exhausted, go to sleep.”

He ignores you, throwing a sweatshirt on to cover up his armor, and follows you out the door; albeit far more sluggish than usual.

He was right though, the night air is bitter and slaps your face with every step forward you take. He lingers a few steps behind you, honest to god almost falling asleep mid step a couple times.

Frankly, you’re not even sure what kind of fight he’d be able to put up in this state. Though, he’s surprised you plenty of times before. In any case, his head snaps up every time there’s any sign of movement around, instantly on alert.

He trails behind you as you browse through the narrow aisles, hands stuffed in his sweatshirt.

As you’re standing at the store counter paying, his neck is craned forward, resting on your shoulder. You rub soothing circles into his hand with your thumb, though you’re sure it’s not doing anything to help his exhaustion.

You’re walking back home, the bite of the air a bit more forgiving in this direction. There’s another man walking down the sidewalk approaching, hands in pocket.

Jason’s too tired to bother with subtlety, glaring directly at the passerby before he could even think of trying anything. And it works, because the guy averts his gaze real quick and speeds up past you.

He continues working at his post from just behind you all the way until you’re back inside your apartment.

He takes the medicine container out of his pocket and cracks it open for you, wordlessly filling up a glass of water after. You gulp down a couple of the pills, and he takes the glass and bottle out of your hand the second you’re done, setting them on the counter.

He turns to you, eyes barely open, mumbling, “Can we sleep now?”

You smile at his fatigued state and take his hand, leading him to the bedroom.

Your neighbor likes you. You know it, Jason knows it.

The worst he’d done was flirt with you, badly, and shut his mouth real quick whenever your boyfriend emerged from your apartment.

And Jason let that go; he knows better than anybody that you’re heavenly and sweet and clever, of course this fucking guy likes you. Jason set an unspoken rule with himself, that he won’t get violent with any guys unless they put their hands on you. Something he knows for absolute fact your neighbor has not done.

At least he hadn’t until a couple of hours ago. You’d been in the hallway at the mailslots, your boyfriend nowhere in sight, when he decided it was the perfect time to make a move. Make several moves, actually.

You’re sitting on the couch, knees to chest, still trying to wrap your mind wround what had happened when Jason sees you. You stopped crying a while ago and you’ve entered the phase of…well. That happened.

Your hear keys jingling outside the door, followed by your boyfriend's entrance. He’s carrying some grocery bags and has a book tucked under his chin.

He lets the bags slide off his arms, and sets the book on the counter with them, beaming, “You’re never gonna guess what b—“ His smile drops when he sees you. “What’s wrong?”

You shake your head, “Nothing.” But your blinking feels off all of a sudden, and you can’t remember what you usually do with your face when you’re not lying. It doesn’t matter though, you could be an academy award winning actress and you’re still sure Jason would be able to see right through you with a single glance.

He frowns, “Don’t lie to me.” He moves towards you, kneeling down in front of you. “Please. What’s wrong?” His eyes are worried now, more than usual.

You don’t want him to worry about this. He already worries about you too much and he’s got all his vigilante stuff and…you just want to believe that this is a manageable situation and not a problem. Not something that affected you.

“It’s just…it’s not a big deal, okay? I can handle it—”

His posture stiffens and his voice suddenly goes low and serious, “What happened?”

You know where this is going. “Jason. Promise me you won’t do anything.”

His brow furrows, and his frown turns to something closer to anger. “Did someone put their hands on you? Who?”

“Jason—”

“Who did it?”

“The neighbor, b—” he immediately snaps to a stand and starts towards the door. You hurry to grab onto his hand before he can escape your proximity, “Jason. Please don’t.”

The break in your voice is enough to make his rage falter and turn back around to face you.

“Baby, if he touched you—” His eyes are pleading, begging you to let him go take care of this. If not for you, then for him.

“It wasn’t—he didn’t do anything. He didn’t get to. I hit him and he backed off.” Which is…sort of true.

He stares at you. “In the hallway?”

You blink. “…Yeah?”

He takes off towards the bedroom wordlessly. You follow quickly on his tail, watching him sit on the edge of your bed, opening his computer and clicking through it quickly.

You slide over next to him, and see that he's pulling up a file under the name of your building and today’s date. It takes you two seconds too long to realize what he’s doing, the thought only sinking in right as you see the hallway security camera footage on the screen.

“Jason—” you try to close the computer but he bats your hand away.

He forwards through the footage, as you scramble trying and failing to reach past him, various building occupants coming in and out of frame rapidly.

“—please just listen to me.” But he did listen to you, and he heard that someone tried to hurt you. That was all he needed to hear.

He stops when he sees you enter the frame, watching closely. He sees you flipping through the mail. He sees your neighbor slither out of his apartment and stand far too close to you. You take a step back only to be met with two steps forward by him. He says something to you, probably asking where your boyfriend is.

The angle doesn’t show his face, but it does see yours, and you look incredibly uncomfortable. You don’t answer him, which evidently was enough of an answer in itself.

Your neighbor tries to brush some of your hair out of your face but you snap your head away, stumbling back a little. He uses your lack of balance as an “excuse” to grab onto your waist, pulling you close to him.

Your hands are out in front of you and you’re shaking your head as he pushes towards you. His lips land on your neck and you try to move backwards, but he grabs your wrists and holds you in place.

You fight against his grip, and upon realizing that your struggling doesn’t matter to him at all, you dig your nails into his wrists so hard you draw blood. He groans in pain and his grip on you loosens.

You snap your hands away and push yourself away, locking yourself in your apartment. Your neighbor lingers for a moment, shouting something at the door before trudging back into his apartment and slamming the door.

Jason snaps the laptop shut, coming to a stand once again. His fists clinch at his sides. “That was not nothing.”

No, it wasn’t. But you feel so helpless right now. You sure as hell felt it in the hallway, and it keeps lingering in you and you’re not sure why. You couldn’t do anything then, you can’t do anything now…it feels like all the bad things in the world are closing in on you and you just have to let it happen.

“I…I don’t want anyone to die because of me…” your words aren’t quite matching your thoughts, but this is the closest you can get right now.

He pulls back to look at you, brows furrowed. “It’s—it’s not because of you. It’s because of him. Baby, if I were on patrol and saw him grab some other girl like that I’d do the same thing.”

You know that. You know that. But communication seems impossible right now even though it’s the only tool you have to stop things from closing in.

“No, I know that. I know…it’s just…” Things are closing in anyways. Alright, this is happening now. Your eyes start watering and your voice trembles.

“Fuck, baby.” His hand flies to the back of your head, other arm wrapping around your middle, pulling you to him.

You feel a bit silly, crying over the potential death of someone who tried to hurt you, in front of the Red Hood of all people.

“I’m sorry, I—I don’t know. It’s—it’s too many bad things. I can’t…”

“Okay. Okay. It’s okay. I’ll stay here. I’m staying here with you, okay?” You nod into his chest, tears dampening his shirt.

This is a temporary solution, you know that even now. But you think once it expires, it might be easier to accept whatever Jason’s going to do later.

He’s quiet for a few minutes, holding you in his arms as you sway back and forth lightly.

“Will you forgive me if I kill him?” He whispers into your hair.

You roll your eyes but smile nonetheless. “Don’t.”

“Is that a yes?”

You pull back to look him in the eyes, face setting. “I’m getting the feeling you’re going to do something regardless of how this conversation ends.” He says nothing. “Just, please, don’t kill him.”

He holds you tighter and you do the same, laying your head against his chest again. You feel him press a kiss to your head as he takes a deep breath.

You think on it for a moment, figuring it needs saying, “And don’t get in trouble.”

Your neighbor comes home late that night, trudging through the front door with a perpetual frown. He opens the door to his notably unlocked apartment. He drops his bag on the ground with a thump and flicks on the lamp next to the door. He shuts the door and turns the lock when the red elephant in the room pipes up.

“Hey, bud.”

He jumps, spinning around, “Who the fuck—oh, shit.” He freezes the second he sees him, sitting in the armchair across the room. The Red Hood nods, loading the gun in his hand.

Your neighbor stutters, “What—what are you doing here?”

He looks up at him, cocking the gun. “You put your hands on your neighbor, yeah?”

He looks fake-shocked at the accusation. “What? No, I would ne—which neighbor?”

He can’t see it, but Hood’s face drops into a deadpan. “That is really not helping your case.”

Your neighbor eyes the gun nervously.

Hood sighs, “I’m not going to kill you. I’ve been told it’s bad manners to execute someone the first time you meet.” He glances down the nail marks on his arm and steels his jaw. “No. What’s going to happen is you’re going to break your lease and move out. Within the next week.”

The neighbors eyes widen, “A week? Are you insane?”

Hood tilts his head a bit before shaking it, “Nah, you’re right. By tomorrow night.”

“This is my apartment. I live here, I’m not going anywhere. And unless you’re secretly Saul the landlord under there, you can’t do anything about it.” He crosses his arms, clearly feeling very proud of himself. Well, killing him isn’t the only option, is it?

Hood stands, making his way across the room casually. “Yeah, I thought you’d say that.” He clocks him hard on the head with the frame of his gun. He goes down quickly and loudly, clutching his head, groaning. “The alternative is getting beaten half to death and hoping whatever hospital you end up at knows what they’re doing.”

Honestly, neighbor boy is pressing his luck as is. Maybe it was a bad idea for Jason to bring the gun.

“Fuck! Fine! I’ll go!” He wails.

Hood kicks his abdomen with the side of his boot, though not nearly as hard as he wanted to. “Shut up. You’ll disturb the neighbors.”

The neighbor groans again, quieter. He mumbles something about Hood being crazy but it gets lost under the grunts of pain.

Hood crouches down next to him, patting him on the head with the barrel of his gun. “Don’t worry, bud. I’ll check up on you. And if I ever see you so much as look in the general direction of another girl I’ll put a bullet in your head. Sound good?”

Your former neighbor drops his head to the ground, hand still clutching the growing swell on his forehead.

[em1e]

ᶻz feat. draken + mikey + ran !!

tokyo revengers && haircare

☓ they let u touch their hair !! ran's is a lil suggestive :3

ᶻz・ken ryuguji ‘draken’

⠀ ⬤ and helping upkeep his dark dye job.

“your roots are coming in.” you hum out with a tap to his forehead. 

draken swats your hand away with a grimace, standing from his kneeling position in front of the bike he was fixing while wiping his hands on the rag he keeps in his belt loop, “yeah? ‘ve been meaning to get some dye.” 

you smile, “can i do it?” 

“you gotta dying degree?, his eyes narrow to slits, quick to ask. 

“cosmetology degree,” you correct, unwavering, “and how hard can it be? you seem to do just fine.” 

“i’ve been doing it for a couple years.” he rolls his eyes, “and it’s so dark, i dunno how good of a job you’ll do.” 

“tomato, tomato.” you wave off, “what brand do you get? i’ll stop by the store and grab a box before you’re home.”  

he doesn’t have it in him to argue - not when you’re giving him such a big grin and those puppy-dog eyes - he can’t say no. 

“revlon,” he relents, “but if you mess up you’re never doin’ it again.” 

“aye aye captain.” you giggle, standing on your toes to press a quick kiss to his lips before you’re practically skipping out of the garage.

when he comes back to your shared home, you’re sitting in the living room, a towel in the middle of the floor with one of the dining room chairs set in the center of it. he raises an eyebrow at it, and you hold up the box with a smile. 

“ready?”

draken changes from his work clothes while you mix the bowl of dye. he ends up sitting in the chair while you drape an old hand towel around his neck and press a kiss to his nose when you’re satisfied with the placement. 

“try not to get it in my scalp, yeah?” he grimaces at how dark the color is, suddenly very aware of each stroke you put onto his head despite you being mindful of each part you section off before moving to the next. it takes you maybe thirty minutes before you’re satisfied, making sure to use what dye remains to blend it in with the rest of his hair. you give another kiss to his forehead when you’re finished, and grimace when your nose presses into the still very wet dye. 

draken wipes away the little dot smeared on the tip of your nose with the corner of the hand towel, smiling at how you perk up at such a little interaction. 

“‘kay, it has to stay on for 25 minutes and then you can rinse it out.” 

“i know,” he laughs, “i do this like once a month.” 

you pinch his shoulder with a huff, “i was just reminding you.” 

draken stays in the chair as the 25 minutes pass, worried about dripping dye on your brand new carpet, and lets you help him wash it out when the time comes, leaning over the edge of the bathtub while you run water and shampoo and conditioner over his hair. 

you towel it try while he sits on the toilet, pressing a kiss to his forehead when you’re finished and smiling at how well of a job you’ve done. 

“none on your scalp.” you hum out, stepping back when he stands to look at himself in the mirror. you adore him like this, hair down and falling over his shoulders. he runs a hand through the still slightly damp hair, examining with the critique of a college professor.

then he gives you a toothy grin, brushing some fallen pieces out of his face, “you did good. might have to make this a habit.” 

ᶻz・manjiro sano ‘mikey’ 

⠀ ⬤ and letting you put his hair into different styles.

mikey was practically purring while you ran your fingers through his messy blond hair. 

the sensation of your fingertips against his scalp was magical, leaving him to bonelessly slumping against you while you part and section as you please, and despite you tapping his shoulder multiple times and mumble something about him needing to stay sitting up straight so you can properly fix his hair, he always ends up in the same position. 

it makes your job twenty times harder, tying up his pretty locks at an awkward angle and having to redo it multiple times when it’s uneven, and part of you suspects maybe he’s doing it on purpose - the need to have your fingers in his hair ever present with the sighs that fall from his lips. 

still, you do as well as you can, and press a soft kiss to the top of his head when you’re finished. 

he doesn’t have to look in the mirror to know you’ve done a good job. his body goes even limper to lean his full weight against you, sighing softly as you wrap your arms around his waist and hook your head over his shoulder. 

“how’s it look?” he asks more out of courtesy, since you did just spend the last twenty minutes doing whatever it is you’ve decided to do to his head. 

“cute.” you answer with a smile, “wanna see?” 

he hums, eyes closing when the warmth that radiates from you seeps into his back. he really doesn’t want to move.

and it’s as if you can see into the future - having already brought over a small hand mirror for him to look into when you grabbed the various hair ties and clips that are currently in his hair. you offer it to him gently, and he takes it with one eye open, head tilting as he takes in his new style. 

it is cute, he can admit. small colorful butterfly clips sat mixed into the usual half-up hairdo he normally wears. 

“you did good.” he turns his head slightly to give you a small peck on the cheek, smiling when he sees the blush that flares from the spot as if he’s burned you. 

“thanks.” your voice is quiet, but giddy. happy he’s happy. 

he sets the mirror face down onto his stomach, closing his eyes and letting himself relax in your embrace. some stray clips poke into the back of his head, but he can’t really find it in himself to care when the air around you brings such peace. 

he thinks he could stay like this forever, laying with whatever silly decorations in his hair if it means you’ll stay there, too. 

ᶻz・ran haitani

⠀ ⬤ and braiding his stupidly dyed hair.

“you are so annoying,” you groan out, undoing the entirety of the braid you’ve just done when ran turns his head to face you with a grin. 

“what?” he asks innocently, as if he hasn’t been the reason you’ve spent thirty minutes on his hair and still haven’t gotten a single braid finished. 

you replace the hair tie on your wrist, twisting him to face forward by his cheeks to restart, “we were supposed to leave twenty minutes ago. rindou is gonna kill me if we’re late to this stupid dinner.” 

his grin falters at the mention of his brother’s name, turning to face you fully despite your protests, “who cares ‘bout him. you ‘nd i can have plenty of fun without goin’ to that dinner with him.”

the look you set him with would send any normal person running, but ran haitani has seen it all. death doesn’t scare him as much as it probably should, and neither does the way your eyes are scanning over his face. 

“it’s his birthday.” you settle for instead, forcing him to turn back around so you can start over with a frustrated sigh. 

“he ‘nd i already celebrated.” he says dismissively, turning back around despite you clicking your tongue and dropping your hands into your lap with another sigh. 

your aggravation is palpable, clear with the crease in your brows, “ran, i’m serious. i still need to get dressed and the reservation is five minutes from now and the place is almost fifteen if we speed-” 

he shuts you up with a kiss, pulling you towards him with a desperation that has your eyes fluttering closed and returning it as if it’s something as natural as breathing. your hands come up to tangle in his hair, fingertips meeting the hair tie still separating the half of it from the rest, and you pull. far harder than necessary, and it has him pulling away from you with a groan. 

it’s enough to tug the hair tie out completely, and you’re satisfied with the way his mixed colors fall over his shoulders and frame his face. 

the grin he gives you is sharp, all teeth and teasing, and your eyebrows raise with a pointed finger, “no ran. you are going to this dinner with your hair down and i am going to get dressed.” you slide out from behind him as quickly as your body will allow, already in the process of stripping off your shirt to put on the clothes you’ve set out previously. 

“c’mon babe, we’re already gonna be late.” his arms wrap around your bare torso, teeth pressing into your shoulder from how hard he’s grinning, “what’s a few extra minutes? s’not like he’ll be alone, izana ‘nd the others’ll be there to keep him company.” 

“ran.” your voice is warning, but you’re letting him pull you towards the bed and your resolve falters with each second he’s holding you. you are already late anyways. what’s twenty more minutes?

[cupidsdolll]

Hey! 17 & 28 if possible please!!! x

Valentine’s Gifts and Surprises

hii here you go ! <3

talk to me • masterlist • request a valentine's prompt

- - - -

17- roses

28 - ribbons

- - - - 

Y/N’s never been on the giving side of all of Valentine's activities. She’s always been the one receiving the flowers, chocolates and cards from her past lovers. But this year, she wants to do something different, step outside of her comfort zones and do something nice. She stares at the variety of flowers lining the shelves and walls of the flower shop she stands in. They’ve never discussed their favorite flowers and how they want to celebrate Valentine’s, it’s not that they don’t want to celebrate it, it’s just not that big of a deal for the two of them. 

But she wants to do something for Harry, to try to show just how much she appreciates him. So here she is, standing in the flower shop trying to figure out which flower to get him. Her eyes scan over the walls until she comes across a beautiful bouquet of red and blue tulips and immediately she knows that these are the perfect ones for him. She doesn’t want to be basic and give him roses, although she did think about it simply because she knows he’ll be over the moon anyway. She quickly walks over to where they’re sitting and grabs them and not long after she’s heading to the checkout section and buying them. Y/N smiles as she thanks the lady and walks out. The flowers were the last thing she needed to complete his gift. 

She didn’t want to go all out for him, she knows he’s not that kind of person. He wants something intimate whenever it’s a holiday or something for the two of them. She had intended on spending the day at home, to share their love and just be with each other. He’s never been one to indulge in all of the big public displays of affection, he prefers moments to be shared privately. So she knew he’d prefer to keep their love just between them, no cameras or loud noises, crowded spaces and no awkwardness. 

She drives to their shared apartment and sits in the parking lot, sending a quick text message to let him know that she’s home and not to come outside so she can put his present together (she left his present part out but she’s almost positive that he knows what she’s been out doing.) Almost immediately she gets a text back with a thumbs up and him saying he’s glad she’s made it home safe and that he can’t wait to see her. She smiles to herself before she begins to assemble it. She places the medium sized wooden basket on her lap and sets the small red shaved pieces inside of them of the basket and begins to set his gifts inside.She sets the folded sweatshirt that has a picture of them together on the front in first, then she sets the heart shaped box of chocolates in, then a couple bottles of his favorite drink and then sprinkles some other snacks in as well. After all that is set, she puts a couple face masks in and the valentine’s card she’s written for him. 

She admires it for a couple of minutes before she sends him another text saying she’s coming in, she grabs the basket and gets out of the car; she makes sure to close and lock the doors before she begins to make her way to their apartment. She quickly unlocks the door and she immediately gasps at what she sees. There’s rose petals scattered all over the floor and ribbons in her favorite colors tied around their smaller chairs and hanging from the ceiling. There’s soft jazz coming from the speaker in the living room and candles lit everywhere. The whole scenery is directly from her pinterest board, something she wouldn’t tell Harry about because she knew he’d try his best on recreating it and she just wants him to do whatever he wants.

She can’t help but to smile lovingly at the effort he’s put into this. She makes her way inside and follows the trail of rose petal leaves on the floor, leading her into their bedroom. The door is opened and allows her to see the inside, more rose petals leading up to the bed and stops in the shape of a big  heart and Harry stands beside it. He’s holding a bouquet of roses, all of them in different colors, with several pink ribbons wrapped around them and a bright smile on his face. He’s dressed handsomely, a white button down shirt with the first three buttons undone to showcase a bit of his chest and his swallow tattoos, a pair of black pants and his hair beautifully styled. 

“Hi, my love.” He says and she smiles at him, soft and lovingly. 

“Hi, baby. What’s all this?” She asks and he shrugs. 

“It’s Valentine’s. Did you think I wouldn’t do anything for my girl?” He says as he walks over to her. She can’t help the heat that runs to her cheeks as she watches him. He softly takes the basket from her hands and kisses her forehead softly. 

“What’s this?” He asks and she smiles shyly. 

“Your valentine’s day gift.” She says and he shakes his head as he continues to smile brightly.

“Thank you, baby, but you didn’t have to. I appreciate you thinking of me, but you will always be my present for every holiday. You’re all I need.”

[vixstarria]

Kinktober Day 21 - Free Use

For every day of the month of October I will be posting a little snippet following prompts listed in this post. Most of these will not be full fics, but rather short snippets, set-ups, and, in a few cases, copied bits and pieces of fics I have already published. But, if there is a lot of interest and feedback on any of the snippets, they might just evolve into full fics, so keep that in mind.

Disclaimer / TW: Sex club shenanigans. And yes, yes, I know I'm late... It did take me a full 3 weeks to fall behind, at least.

The masquerade masks were, of course, completely inadequate for concealing anyone’s identity. However, they served a different purpose: acknowledging mask-clad acquaintances as such within the mansion, as well as mentioning their presence at the party outside the manor grounds was an unthinkable taboo, and would result in the irrevocable banishment of the offender and their immediate connections. Attendance at the events was a great privilege, one not to be squandered.

Astarion and Asmodea had been invited to the soiree by the owner of the establishment herself. They were encouraged to peruse and, if they so wished, partake, though the actual purpose of their visit was business, not pleasure: they were exploring the possibility of forging business ties between their cabaret theatre and the Scarlet Veil.

“Why this is even more strange than being on the paying end of a brothel,” Astarion murmured to Asmodea upon their emerging from the cloakroom.

"Are you sure you want to be here?" she frowned. "I'm happy to deal with the owner myself."

He waved a hand dismissively before responding.

“I will only ask two things of you: make no assumptions, and ask no questions you do not want to know the answers to.” Not waiting for her to respond, and likewise not giving her a chance to voice any more concerns, he sauntered towards a nearby room, sectioned off by a velvet drape.

"The Burrow," he read a plaque at the entrance. "Hmm, let me guess..."

Asmodea had no choice but to follow him as he disappeared behind the curtain.

Her eyes widened as she was immediately greeted by the sight of a splayed pair of legs protruding from a nearby wall at about hip height. The ankles were in restraints, bound to the wall. The rest of the body disappeared behind a window cut-out, concealed by strip curtains. The figure, or at least the visible part of it, wore absolutely nothing but a pair of torn silk stockings.

"...Ah," Asmodea blinked. "Gloryholes. ...Of a kind."

There was an entire row of these holes further along the wall, she now realised, most of them occupied by grunting, thrusting masked men, their trousers gathered unceremoniously at their ankles.

"Harengon holes, they're called," Astarion corrected. "Because harengons-"

"...live in burrows and fuck like rabbits, yes, I've gathered."

Despite herself, she glanced up at Astarion, and, perhaps reading the unasked question in her eyes, he elaborated further.

"If the manor events are run the way I think they are, the participants here are all thrill-seeking guests, not paid staff. Concealed attendants should be keeping an eye on things on both sides, in case anyone doesn't know how to behave."

They passed further along the wall, observing the activities around them. A halfling, scorning a nearby stepladder which must have been provided for those of their stature, simply stood with their face buried between the disembodied legs. A chorus of muffled moans and howls sounded from somewhere beyond the wall.

The scene appeared increasingly more comical the longer Asmodea observed it, and she bit her lip to hold back a titter.

"Shall we move on before we're kicked out..?" Astarion asked, seeing her reaction. "I don't believe this is intended as a comedy show."

They continued on to the next room.

My Kinktober masterlist and prompts post

[heybrine]

Jessie Livin' Pack - Part I

Hiii everyone! This is my first ever CC Pack that I made myself from zero, and I hope you enjoy it! ❤️

So this is the first part of this pack, which focuses on the living room. This set is the base of the living room and has everything you need, from sofa to fireplace with 22 items.

In a few weeks I'll be finishing the Part II of this pack focused in clutter/decor items.

Items include:

Sectional Sofa (all pieces)

Sectional Lounge Chair

3 Curtains for All Wall Height (Left, Right and Middle)

Curtain Rod (from EA)

Round Coffee Table (normal and smaller size)

Console Table

Circular End Table

Round Ottoman

Stucco Fireplace

Stucco Wall with baseboard

2 Bookshelves (Left and Right)

Ceiling Light

Early Access Now Available On Patreon

Public Release: 13th February 2023

[psycheetamore]

Preparing for a Giedi Prime Party - Kinktober

Nr 1 / 3 of my little contribution to @lady-phasma's guidance for Kinktober/Fangtober for day 3 (ejaculation)

Tags: MDNI, Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen Is His Own Warning, explicit smut, Feyd-Rautha is phyiscially imposing, teasing, vaginal everything (f in v, t in v, p in v), oral (f receiving), multiple orgasms, power dynamics, domination (m), implied non-consensual drug use, dubious consent, spoilers, and of course: ejaculation - the author regrets nothing

Summary: Feyd-Rautha has been enraptured by the fearless Fremen leader (f) while fighting on Arrakis. After she decided not to kill him, he has managed to capture her as he decided to make her his. After some initial struggles on both sides (as he understands she will never truly become his if he forces her), she is starting to be more comfortable in his presence, and is rising in Giedi Prime ranks. He is set on unlocking parts of her she did not know existed, and showing her everything (... this is as suggestive as you can interpret it - see the tags) his planet has to offer. This section shows part of their journey (again: meant in the most suggestive way possible - tags).

Word count: 2.1k

Based on chapter 17 of Choosing to Follow Destiny, Pre-Party Excitement:

After she came back from yet another day studying, she found a gift in her chambers: a beautifully crafted box, covered with dark leather, holding a pair of well-balanced daggers. Brown handles with beige veins to her surprise, almost as if he knew.

They fit her hands perfectly. It contained a handwritten note: “Dearest, I promised to have you experience all that Giedi Prime has to offer. Tonight, you are invited to attend a small get-together as my esteemed guest. You will receive appropriate attire. Please ensure you take this gift wherever you go, as I trust you will keep yourself well. FR”

After she read the note, trolleys were brought in by her servant girls bringing the attire mentioned.

One of her servants explained that the small get-together referred to, was actually an annual fête organised by the na-Baron. With only in-crowd present, invites were heavily coveted and a token of benevolence from leadership bestowed upon one. As dictated by Harkonnen culture, also this fête would erupt into pandemonium, a drug laced orgy that claimed lives every year. The girls have not witnessed it before, and spoke based on gossip only. It was stressed that receiving an invite, and especially as the guest of the na-Baron himself, was a special honour. This was the one party to attend, organised by the Harkonnen playboy himself.

She considered that this was perhaps one of the parties mentioned during a seemingly boring meeting she was dragged into.

The other servant offered her a piece of candy, explaining it was tradition to eat this before attending the event. With thoughts of caution, she ate it.

[…]

The attire consisted of a black overlay skirt to be hanged on her hips, a white see through wrapped blouse consisting of two parts starting from her neck and to be wrapped over her breasts, leaving her mid-rift exposed, an a-symmetrical harness to hold her new daggers to her sides, a fire red silk cape that touched the ground, closed black heels with straps to cover the calve, a broad black leather choker with a metal ring at the front, two wrist and two ankle bands identical to the choker, an eye covering mask made of black feathers and black lace underwear. Not the typical outfit she was used to, and she could only imagine what he was planning.

The girls started working on her hair. The typical low braid was removed. Her flowy black hair was put in a tight high bun and braided.

While she started to remove her clothes to settle in this new outfit, Feyd-Rautha entered the room. He was already dressed in his outfit for the night.

He wore clothing made of a thin, flowy and black fabric, covering his entire body. A wide shirt that was tucked into high wasted trousers, that seemed to be tied together by a broad belt of the same material also holding his ceremonial daggers. The broadness of his shoulders and the narrowness of his waist were accentuated. Through the tailoring of the shirt, that was tied together with hidden buttons, it gave the impression that he was even broader than he was. The neck being covered with the fabric tightly tied, nearly up to where the head started. The legs of the pants were wide, while consisting of overlaying parts - they could be mistaken for a skirt. His pants were tucked into black boots. A cape was attached to his shoulders, laced with red fabric on the inside to complement her cape.

After she had taken this sight in, she taunted: “the girls you allocated to me can help me get dressed”, knowing that Feyd-Rautha came in to either witness or participate, and would not remove himself from her room anytime soon.

He smirked and set himself on her couch, making himself comfortable. He raised his finger in the slightest way and pointed to the doors. Within seconds they were gone. “I don't see them here, pet. And someone needs to help you” he said with an intense voice.

She thought he probably expected her to refuse his offer, or try get him out of the room. She wouldn't be giving him that pleasure. As sense of playfulness took hold of her.

She walked over to him, sat on the couch next to him, held her arms up high and said with a high-pitched voice, pouting lips and doe eyes: “please be so kind to remove my breast band, lord Harkonnen. I cannot do this without help.” Although it took him off-guard, he obliged to the mocking request with a muted moan he couldn't prevent from escaping, placing his hands on her hips and gliding them along her flanks to the height of the band. He moved his hands to her back, smelling her scent, pushing his fingers under the band and having them flow over her skin to her breasts. While cupping her breasts, he released his thumbs from under the band and shifted it over her head while having his mouth helping her nipples acclimatise to the newer colder surroundings. His hands slid the band over her arms, holding them straight up while his mouth travelled to her neck.

With her band removed, and noticing how he indulged her in her mocking play, she stood up to stand between his legs, turned around and asked with the same voice and eyes, while looking over her shoulder: “oh, lord Harkonnen, I need your help again. Can you please help me take off my panties? I can’t do this by myself”, while having difficulty in containing her laughter. Despite the wideness of his clothing, his bulge couldn't be hidden anymore. “Woman, you will be my death” he responded with a deep sound, as he grabbed her hips, pushed her to step forwards, fell on his knees and tore this last piece of wardrobe covering her modesty down as far as possible using his teeth. He pushed her to lean over the nearby cabinet, spread her legs as far as possible considering the still present undergarment, and started tasting the source of sweetness to which he had found himself addicted.

This wasn’t entirely how she thought this would have played out, but it was pleasing all the same. Soon, tasting became slurping, as her body decided to prepare her for what it desired to come. She pushed herself towards him as far as her balance allowed her, removing one leg from her underwear to give him better access. The positioning on the cabinet and his support of her legs allowed her to indulge fully. His long tongue entering her repeatedly caused a new sensation, bringing her to newfound heights.

He couldn’t just have his mouth experience the pleasures presented to him. He stood up behind her, while pressing on the small of her back to keep her bend over. Before he could enter, something broader was required. As he uncovered himself, he pushed his fingers in her. As his longing needed to come to an end, it did not take long before she was taking three of his digits. He removed them a few times, to moisture himself. There was only so much this man could watch passively. Once he felt that she was ready to receive him, he removed his wet fingers and pushed himself in her cautiously, noticing she went to stand on her tiptoes to welcome him.

He heard her gasp. They always do. Even if prepared, even if they have encountered him more than once, no-one ever got fully adapted to take the volume of his presence from the very first entry. While her gasp was replaced with moans, and she became more accommodating to him, he started to thrust into her, holding her hips to exert more force in the process.

Considering this must be a dream again, as this was completely out of character for her, she decided to see how it would play out if she would vocalise her inner thoughts: “lord Harkonnen, you are peerless. My god” while throwing her arm back, and driving her nails in in whatever pale flesh she could grab.

“Don’t refer to me as lord while I fuck you. Use my name. You know better” he said punishing, pushing her legs further apart and pushing his fingers deeper into her flesh.

“Whatever pleases you, lord Harkonnen” she responded playfully, as if she was drunk. He responded less playfully, pulling her deeper onto him and grabbing her throat with one hand: “I don’t like to repeat myself, pet” he growled near her ear. She was contemplating yet another sassy response, but his continuous thrusts prevented her from responding in any other way than moaning in his ear. She wanted to have her upper body fall on the commode, but could not as he continued to hold her. In that position she could not do anything else than come again, completely under his spell.

After he felt that she had road out that wave, he removed himself, turned her around and picked her up to put her on the cabinet. As she sat before him with her legs wide open, placing a finger in her mouth and covering herself with her other hand – more to recover than anything else, he tried prying his trousers off. “Don’t do that. Don’t block my view darling” he growled, as he wouldn’t have this appetising sight be taken from him.

But she did not listen. His clothing wasn’t coming off quick enough and he needed to enforce his ignored instruction. No other options was left than to use his hand to push hers away and allow his fingers to explore the environment that had grown even moister since they deserted this dessert. With his other hand he continued to struggle until his pants lay on his feet.

Entering her again, he needily moaned: “you feel so good, your pussy fits so well over my cock, it longs to hold me” as he let one of his hands wander over the sight in front of him of him entering her, thrusting in her, burying himself in her. Seeing himself claiming her, a deadly woman, reduced to a girl, his girl. Feeling himself while his fingers touched where their bodies merged, it was breath-taking. Feeling her quiver around him and pulled apart repeatedly at his touch, it was intoxicating. He knew how to render her helpless, the power he had over her was addictive. He grabbed one of her hands and had her experience the this feeling he knew was new to her. He slid in and out of her with very low speed so she could observe how he was making her his, one push at the time. She spread her legs wider to welcome him deeper, in anticipation if what was to come. Her hair getting undone, breathing rapid and narrow as he felt by touching her chest, there was no need for her to repeat that message. He felt she was ready to die for yet another time.

She opened her eyes and looked at him. His face spoke volumes of the emotions running through him. His jaws clenching together. Eyes rapidly searching. Greed, possession, aggressiveness. His body spoke of passion, a distorted form of gentleness and consideration. Seeing him labouring hard above her, autonomously within his own world, sweat forming on his pale bold body, his blue yet dark eyes, his composure, his clothed physic that exemplified a perfect as a triangle a male torso could achieve to be. His knowledge of the ways of the female body. He was trained in everything. He was allowing her to get to learn her body in ways she never expected were possible. “Fucking hell... Feyd-R...” as her head crashed to back to take in another wave.

He decided this was an excellent moment to join her in her high, to reward her for doing, or at least trying to do, what he had demanded from her. He spilled himself deep in her during his last and deepest push.

+++

After a long moment to recollect themselves, Feyd-Rautha removed himself from her. She wanted to stand up, but he prevented her. While walking away to collect her clothes, he informed her: “I truly came here to help you dress, despite your distractions.” While she was still sitting on the low cupboard, he fitted her new panties designated for the party. Only after these were in place, he helped her back on her feet again and kissed her earlobe: “I want you to smell me the entire night. I want you to feel me the entire night, think about me. I want to smell myself the entire night. That I claimed you, you delicious creature.”

She knew that this was how he showed his affection, in his very own peculiar way.

[cloudyeventss]

141 x female assistant Part 3

Y/n POV

Laswell is helping me settle into the unit. She said the team was in the middle of training so I'll get the chance to meet them later. I don't have much just some clothes and books I brought with me. This place somewhat resembles a dormitory. At least what I'd think one would look like. I had my own apartment in college so i have been lucky to never have to have a roommate. As soon as I walk in I see the common area it's nothing much just a flat screen maybe 55in and a grey sectional couch. There's a coffee table in the center that has seen better days. Connected to the living area is a small kitchen. Kate shows me to my room down the hall. I walk inside setting my bags on the twin size bed .There's a dresser across from it and a bedside table. I sigh with relief when I notice the private bathroom attached to my room. " the boys should be done within the next hour. I'll give you some time to settle in before we go meet them" turning back to face Kate. " thank you, Laswell". She gives me a soft smile and closes the door behind her.

.....

I spent the next hour putting my things away and getting dressed. I decided on a short sleeve black shirt with black pants paired with a white belt and white kitten heels. I kept my makeup light today only applying some blush and mascara. I'm already starting to jitter, my nerves are trying to get the best of me, but I'm determined to make this job work.

.....

                        Ghost's POV

"Ghost, ghost are ye listenin"

I ignore johnny, I'm already pissed. We've just finished running drills with the recruits, when Price called everyone into his office. He hasn't told us why we're here yet and I'm starting to get restless. I lean forward in my chair resting my elbows on my thighs when a soft knock comes grabbing our attention. Johnny and Gaz's conversation falls short when Laswell and someone else walks in . My back immediately straightens turning my spine to steel. My eyes meeting the woman standing behind Laswell. Her hair is tied back in a bun with two pieces framing her face. She's fidgeting with her hands looking down, clearly nervous. It's cute really such a pretty bird. I smile underneath my balaclava. She's going to be trouble. 

   Laswell greets the team " Boys, this is Ms. (Y/L/N), she'll be working closely with the team. Call on her for any work needs. Her office will be just down the hall"

  Captain reaches to shake her hand 

"Pleasure to 'ave you Ms.(Y/L/N)"

      The little thing brushes down her pants, wiping her palms before grabbing Caps hand. " please call me y/n" . Prices hand practically engulfs her smaller one. Soap jumped from his seat to introduce himself next. The bloke is acting like a puppy who finally found a friend. Grinning ear to ear, no doubt waiting to make a cheeky comment about how great her ass looks. The man couldn't stop staring at it while she was speaking with Price. Gaz saves her from Johnny's ramblings, telling her he would be happy to show her around. Then all eyes turn towards me waiting for me to say something, some formal introduction.. she's not going to get that from me. Not today.. I stand up and walk out, I need to clear my head.

[t34-mt]

maanul colony, a rough idea of how the build against the cliff parts looks like, the rest of the village is on top of the cliff. These are flexible plant fiber that creates platforms/structures, and there are also tunnel systems. also, black sand! More text and information under ->

this is a western colony (maak'thao), other colonies have that same similar structure but have regional differences in architecture/ the way of making certain things. This is just one side, id imagines it expanding widely on the side cliffs. Maybe kilometers long for the largest colony of each wind? (west, north, south, and East all have a "main colony" which is just the biggest of the region. Cardinal directions are called "the 4 winds" for maanuls.)

while a portion is on the side of the cliff, build against roots or just on the top of the cliffs as regular houses, a part of the structures is hidden. And is directly carved into the rock, as tunnel systems to access some specific parts easier. Carved storage rooms, small gathering places, rooms for religious practices like wall painting, and so on. this is roughly how the tunnel stuff would look like ->

id also imagine some tunnels being decorated with shells, sadly the examples I found are not the exact color I imagined because i think they would pick stupidly colorful ones since they are very fond of shiny things with color(like a magpie!). And once they start losing their color for x reason they would repaint the shells. A main tunnel leading to an important place would be highly decorated, while smaller narrow tunnels would have just a little bit of shells on the sides if none.

now with specific details id like to point out from the bottom part!

First, the statues (in yellow). The statues are placed all around in front of the habitations, they are deeply set in-ground and are lightly carved in, enough to tell a specific shape but still retain a square figure. here's a closer look at them, with additional text!

Now onto the roots (red) and the bottom platforms (white), these root-like structures are actually a sort of tree that grows down to the cliffs, not every colony has that these are mostly found in west and south. Colonies that don't have these growing around will have bottom platforms made out of wood and will be raised up from the sand floor.

The bottom platforms here are also made out of somewhat flexible but strong plant fiber. These large platforms are not made to live but more for some community gatherings. like for example teaching young ones about sea navigation! Down there is used to store some fishing equipment and boats. And when I say boats you should think of canoe-like ones, used for fishing.

And last is that large fish-net decoration in blue, that thing is used to attach many things, like sand down glass pieces that with the light give a fun colorful reflection effect around. But that fishnet thing can also be used to mourn. By that, I mean in the West if they lost a loved one to the ocean they can take a personal shiny belonging and attach it there. So they will always be remembered by everyone even if they didn't have a body and couldn't do the usual way of mourning.

now for the middle section, starting with these "flags"

the enormous "flag", takes decades to make and are a thing you find in each "main colony" of the 4 winds, the immense rope will harbor at least 3 of those and the things represented in it can sometimes be related to a local folkloric tale, symbolic drawings that each bring a good thing to the colony. Like for example one drawing of fish and waves to bring good luck to fishermen! these are much more like tapestries than flags.

extra images about the nest-like structures, id think of them being made out of leather, various plant fiber, and a bit of wood for support.

and a bit about the top layer, which extends much more but on this drawing you only see the beginning of it.

now with the high tide, there it does not get high enough to swim but still enough to take off to the sea with a canoe, id say it arrives at waist level for an adult maanul. Not every village/large colony have the tide flooding around like this, sometimes it might stops where the statues are placed. since altuyur has 2 moons (maanuls and kyhuines say 3 moons but in really the third, or also called "the infant" is an asteroid caught in the first moon, also called "night mother") i was thinking it would affect the tide cycle tho im not sure yet how it does that since im not that good at astrology.

thank you for reading!

[homestuckreplay]

kill them with bladekindness

(page 575-586)

9/3/2009 Wheel Spin: Parent Bad :( Verdict: It’s The Background Texture

9/4/2009 Wheel Spin: Long Pesterlog Verdict: Dave Should Pester John About This

Not much actually happens in these pages, just picking things up and putting them down, so I re-read all Dave’s POV sections so far to experience his uninterrupted slow descent into puppet madness. And it was actually very enlightening and is probably a good way of re-reading for character development/analysis now that character switches are happening so regularly.

But today I was just trying to figure out how the fuck hash map works.

Dave brags to John a couple times about being a super hardcore genius sylladex user, and he’s exaggerating, but not totally lying. As well as already having his strife specibus allocated, on p.576 he does a smooth box catch after seeing the fireworks ejected out the corner of his eye, and on p.579 he shows off by intentionally ejecting and then dodging about ten shurikens. Even though there’s way easier ways he could have accomplished that – such as GENTLY GATHERING (5) the shurikens to free up card 5, then taking the box.

Except, it makes sense if we assume Dave is practicing. In the past we’ve seen Dave mess with his sylladex in his room and in the bathroom, but this is the first time he’s used it in the public areas of the house – and with the Dude Dodge and demonstrations of using different words for the same item and dealing with collisions, it’s almost like he’s putting on a performance. On p.386, he tells John: ‘you should look into weaponizing your sylladex. my bro is always getting on my case about it but man its not as easy as it sounds.’

We’ve now learned that Dave’s bro stocks the kitchen with weapons, which could be there specifically for sylladex practice. Dave’s bro, who it’s been implied also uses hash map, could have been practicing the shuriken-dodge maneuver for years, to use if he ever gets into a real fight. (Or is there a league? Is sylladex usage a sport and Dave’s bro is like a former high school football player who’s trying to train up a younger family member to relive their glory days)?

These kitchen violence pages pair well with Dave reading the Midnight Crew on p.329-331. ‘A familiar feeling stirs. That feeling is overwhelming, soul-blackening rage. It's the sort of rage that'll make a man feel totally justified in sporting an unnecessarily elaborate assortment of fancy blades’ is a line referring to Spades Slick, but Dave lives with a man who sports an unnecessarily elaborate assortment of fancy blades, so I wonder what soul-blackening rage Bro is feeling and why. It makes me think about how a hyperviolent character in a piece of media can be very fun and likeable, but that same trait in a real person, especially one you live with, is terrifying, and certainly gets different reactions from Dave.

Page 585 shows some different options for hash map point scoring, and I wonder which is most user friendly. Scrabble points is fun, but only helpful if you’ve memorized the Scrabble score system. 2-point consonants and 1-point vowels, which Dave has been using, is pretty easy to calculate numbers for, but certain cards seem like they come up a lot more than others. A short, 3-5 letter word will probably occupy cards 5 through 9, and it gets harder to fill up those low numbered cards when calculating in a hurry. The system where A=1, B=2, C=3, etc, probably solves that issue, but involves working with much bigger numbers, which (if playing TTRPGs has taught me anything) lots of people struggle with. A good hash map needs to be easy to calculate and leave items naturally well distributed among cards.

The most effective hash map, I think, wouldn't depend on function but would have a standard set of 20-30 items that you regularly captchalogue and know the values for, along with ways of retrieving them. So when leaving the house, I could have my KEYS in card 6 and use them to OPEN the front door, plus my WALLET in card 0 to EXCHANGE MONEY for goods and services, but when I go home I can switch them out for a BAKING TRAY (6) that I could use to COOK dinner, and a LAPTOP (0) to easily BROWSE the internet. (If I wanted to leave the house with my laptop, I could captchalogue it as a PORTABLE DEVICE (2) for SURFING THE WEB). Getting to know these items really well, and the ways they might be used as weapons, would probably be way easier than just figuring it out as you go.

Of course, when losing a sylladex battle, you can just hit that eject button for a near guaranteed win. It’s possible this counts as a forfeit or is just bad conduct, but with a sylladex full of shurikens it might just be worth it. ‘detect collisions,’ in this context, feels like using training wheels on a bike or those railings over the bowling lane gutters. You should do it to learn, but some assholes will look down on it, and it’s totally not allowed in competitions.

I also noted on this reread how it’s very common for Dave to have the tiny flashing exclamation point above his head when he gets a sudden shock. This might have happened once or twice with John or Rose, I’d need to reread more to check, but it’s definitely a lot more common with Dave. He could be easily startled, it could be an artistic way of showing his emotion when he wouldn’t show it on his face like other characters do, or this could be where Dave stores his unused exclamation points that he’s too cool to put in chat messages.

Finally. I love the bit on p.581 when the picture of Sweet Bro or Hella Jeff gets knocked off the fridge and slowly floats to the floor.

[bluepotion85]

The Golden Ratio - Chapter 3

(The following story contains male weight gain, food play, BDSM, kidnap, encouragement, and feeder/feedee scenarios. If that's not for you, then go to church or something vanilla dude.

This takes place during and after the events of the One-Piece film GOLD. For a better experience see the film on your local streaming service.

This story is written in collaboration with @bee-wg )

-----------------------------------

Tesoro

We see ourselves as special, separated from the world we live in. When the pirates burn a neighboring island, we don't think of it as our problem, not until they come and burn everything here as well. Then we know the truth, we can all experience despair, slavery, or death. 

I have rid myself of the shackles of the world with the one true power, money. Those too weak to change their realities or too stupid to realize these are the rules of the world; are destined to be used by the powerful. 

And the man dangling from my wall right now is no different. While Roronoa, Zoro tries to keep a strong front, he is getting micro-dose with particles of gold that enter his body with every meal. With every day that he stays here, the pirate hunter and swordsman of the straw hats becomes more of my personal plaything. I’ll transform him in every way so everyone can see that he is nothing but mine.

My pheromone fumes in the room are already firing his head, keeping him aroused at every waking moment. Not to mention the golden rod deep within him, it will edge him until his brain is scrambled with the need for release. While they do their job, I’ll get to destroy the body he so tirelessly worked.

“How is my wall trophy doing? Enjoying your alone time?” I said.

“I’ll get that shit-eating grin off your face when I get down off this wall,”

“It's hard to take that threat seriously when you are about to bust a nut,”

He struggles against his restraints, yelling at me for a “proper fight.”

“There have already been enough fights. You haven't gotten any closer to defeating me, pirate hunter. Admit that you can't win against me,”

“I'm the man who will cut through everything, even you,”

“Mmm, maybe your brain is not getting enough food to see the truth. Let's have breakfast then,”

“I’m not hungry,” he replied.

“I wanted to take you out to a popular restaurant, but if you would rather stay in the wall, suits you right,” 

I wave my hand at him, making the golden rod speed up. The vibrations shook him to his core, he then looked at me for a second before answering “Fine, just get this thing off me,”

It was a bit unexpected to see him accept so easily, in any case, he was following the plan.

“Of course,”

I got him off the wall and gave him a set of clean clothes. Once he changed, we went to the garage, where our ride awaited. 

“Why does anyone need so many cars?” he said.

My garage is filled with multiple models of turtle cars.

“It's about the kachow!”

“What?”

I didn't bother explaining my superior taste in cars to him. My limo arrived anyway. We got in and drove through the city.

“And why so many cars if you make someone else drive for you? It's a waste.” he said, pointing at the driver.

Ugh, peasant.

We arrive at The Gold Pearl. The structure is a massive sphere built into the ship. The center of the sphere has a stage where live performers entertain the customers, with tables taking the sides of the structure. The roof is a rendition of Skypiea from the most renowned artist in the new world.

That's only the general admission section of the restaurant, which takes up to two-thirds of the space, leaving the upper third to the VIP section. Inside it, a group of golden droplets hang from the ceiling moving slowly, giving the illusion of waves in the sea. The sides of the sphere in the VIP section are see-through. Add to that the slowly rotating floors, and you have a great panoramic view of the city. Of course, the ungrateful ass didn’t spare a glance.

The waiting time for a table in the VIP area is over a year, or that's the case for everyone else. I made a call and reserved the whole section. Nobody was allowed to interact with Roronoa but me.                                 

“Get seated pirate hunter. The meal is about to begin,” I added.

He reluctantly sat at a table meters away from me. 

“What the matter, afraid I will bite?”

He looked at me with the utmost rage and resentment before standing up, walking to my table, and sitting across from me.

“Hahaha! You are learning after all!”

The waiter arrived handing me the menu. After inspecting it, I say, “Give me the steak with porcini butter and charred onion, and for him, the Sea King treat, white wine as for the two of us.”

“Of course,” said the waitress before leaving.

“What's the Sea King treat?”

“Since we encounter so many Sea Kings through our voyage, we have lots of their meat. It gets distributed across the restaurants at the Gran Tesoro. With each restaurant offering a full run of their best dishes with that meat, they all name it the Sea King treat,”

“I’m not that hungry. It’s too much for me even if I was,”

“There is no such thing as too much here,”

“I won't eat that much,”

“Once you try it, you will see it differently, one taste and you won't be able to put your fork down,”

“If it's like the rest of the food here, I doubt that,”

We wait for a while and the waiiter came with our drinks. She set both glasses on the table and before she could pour the drinks, Roronoa snap the bottle of wine off her hands. 

With his teeth he remove the cork from the bottle and took big gulps of the wine. The waiter looked with wide eyes as he downed the bottle in front of her. I laughed and asked her to bring more alcohol for the both of us. At least now I know of something he is weak to.

Our food arrived after the third bottle of wine went down Roronoa’s throat. The waiter placed plate after plate of meat at our table.

Roronoa looked puzzled at me before he asked, “You can't possibly expect me to eat all this?!” 

“Bon appetit,” I said.

We started to eat and by the end of his first plate, he looked ready to finish. So I moved my hands and manipulated the gold inside him to my will. Expanding the walls in his stomach, his expression changed as he felt the sudden void inside of him.

“Still hungry? Why not take another cut of meat, there is plenty,”

Before he could reply his stomach rumbled loudly. He evaded my eyes as he took another plate of food. He ate it faster than the last one, and again before he was finished I expanded his stomach capacity. He holds his stomach with a tormented look before taking another plate. Yes, pirate hunter, enjoy the meat, fill your guts to your heart's content, because I will make sure you only leave this place stuffed to the brim!

Zoro

What's going on with this food?

It's been an hour since we got here and no matter how many plates of food I eat, I don't seem to feel satisfied. 

The cuts of meat are savory, rich with grease, and saturated with sauce. They are so tender they melt in my mouth like cotton candy. Maybe that's why they don't fill me. They're all taste and have no substance. 

I finished my third plate with a burp, looking at Tesoro who finished his food. He looks pleased from his meal but that miserable grin of his gave me the creeps.

“Why don't you try the duck a l'orange, It's one of my favorites,” he said, extending me the plate.

I'm about to reject it when my insides churn, a belch comes up from deep within me and my stomach rumbles all over again. The smell of the duck mixed with my appetite makes me swallow my pride. I take the dish and get to work on ripping pieces of flesh and bringing them to my mouth. 

Not a day ago I was making an effort not to eat from this psycho, but my stomach roared like a wild tiger for sustenance. Also, if they wanted to poison me with something the damage is done. 

I pick the bottle of wine and down it in a few gulps, at least this is good. Some good booze is just what I needed to withstand this mess. Once the bottle is empty I ask the waiiter for more and I bring close a plate with sea king brochettes.

My attention is drawn in double-fist them, only stopping to breathe. All concerns besides filling my stomach are now out the window. Sushi, salad, meat, everything passes through my lips with a storm of grunts and burps filling the silence of the room. 

I took one last bite of churrasco when I felt the wave of fullness hit me. As if my brain suddenly realized I was stuffed beyond belief. I lowered my eyes and found my stomach tight and distended, strained against my clothes.

“What the-?”

“See, once you have one bite, you can't have enough of them,” he said. 

He stood from his seat and started to walk towards the exit.

“Come on, we wasted enough time here,”

“Give me a minute. I can barely breathe.”

“It's not my fault you made a pig of yourself. Unless you want someone else catching you like this, I suggest you get going,” he replied beside my ear.

Selfish prick, he is the one that orders enough food to feed an army. It's not my fault they were so light, except for that last dish. Trying to stand up I managed to see the rest of my body with more attention, grease, sauce, and pieces of food were scattered over my clothes. Fuck- I did let myself go. At least whatever got into me here won't happen again.

I accepted Tesoro’s invitation to get out of the room and its awful smell. But if that means eating like a pig for over an hour I’ll stay at his office. I'm already messing up my training schedule, I don't want to add fatass to my list of problems.

“What do you say? Do you want to do the same for dinner? I know you loved it.”

“I would rather die.”

The probe made itself known, vibrating deep inside me. It must have stayed there even after Tesoro got me off the wall. But after twenty four hours of it inside me, I must have gotten used to it. Now back to shaking my inside, I try to keep myself together.

“Fine, I will, just make it stop,”

“I don't know what you mean, but I'm sure you made the right choice,”

While we made our way back to the office, I could only nurse my complaining stomach and wonder if the walk to the Limo would offset the meal I just had.

We got into the car and drove back to Tesoro´s main building. When he opens the door, we are met by a pitch-black room,”

I thought we were going to this office. Where are we? 

“Don't lag, you don't want to get lost, do you?” he said.

“I can make my way back without your help.” 

With a sigh, I walk into the room. The door closes behind me, and I catch up to him. He snaps his fingers, and the space is illuminated, revealing a long white corridor. A tiny door on the wall opened with a Lemur coming out of it. His big, colorful eyes focused on Tesoro before he said, “Project Scenario 1.” 

The creature quickly got back into the hole, we waited for a few seconds. Then the white walls of the corridor changed into a rainbow of twirling colors. 

“What is this place?”

“It's a Lounge,"

“That answers nothing.”

The walls of the corridor start to change, now showing a deep cave. The image is so clear I would believe we teleported. I even stretched my arm to where the wall should be to make sure it was still there.

Tesoro continued to walk through the now cave-like corridor, and I followed his steps. 

“There are cast lemurs behind the walls. In the wild, they can project images from their eyes to scare predators. Here, they are great for making this augmented reality experience,” he said.

We continued to walk. The corridor changed into views of Fishman Island, Skypiea, Dressrosa, The Goa Kingdom, Alabasta, and even a land made of sweets.

“A candy land? They are imaginative,” I mumbled.

“Oh, all these places are real. We took the lemurs to memorize the landscapes and use them here,” he replied.

“To the candy land? You can't expect me to believe that.”

“It's Whole Cake Island. What? Would you like to go there even after that meal?” he said mockingly.

“Of course not! It's hard to believe something like that exists, more people would talk about it,”

“It’s the territory of Big Mom, no pirate in their right mind would go there. Don't blame me for your ignorance pirate hunter,”

I was about to try and strangle him when he suddenly stopped walking, and I crashed into his massive back.

“Oi, Why did you stop?”

“We are here. I told you this is a Lounge,"

He moved to the side and revealed a circular room. The walls looked like a night sky filled with stars. Inside, a group of beanbags filled the room. 

Tesoro sat in one of the beanbags at the center of the room, and I followed suit, knowing he wouldn't let me sit anywhere else. 

“Why are we in a Lounge anyway?”

“Just Shut up and enjoy it,” he said, closing his eyes and laying back against the bean bag.

I look into the different projections, trying to relax, but my stuffed stomach keeps groaning in pain. While I clutched it, Tesoro looked at me and said, “The bean bags have a massage setting. There is one mode that could ease your belly,”

“I do not have a belly! I'm just bloated from all that trashy food you pushed on me,”

“If it was so bad, why did you eat it all? I didn't tell you to do it. That was all you,”

“I-”

He cut me up and said, “Do you want the message or not? I wanted to come here and relax, not hearing your gut groan the entire day,”

The idea of the chair starting to massage me like the table brought mixed thoughts. I don't want to give Tesoro more opportunities to mess with me, not to mention If it starts going inside of me like the table I will die. But anything that could help me with the pain is worth trying.

“Fine,” I replied.

The beanbag sprouts two arms from its sides and starts massaging my shoulders. The gold bastard’s beanbag also starts massaging him, and I calm down for a second. The arms move to my chest and neck, the tension from the day leaving me slowly. Finally going to my stomach, they make circles over it, applying pressure now and then. I would burp occasionally, releasing some space, and before long the pain had subsided. 

They continue like this for a while, the feeling soothing alongside the images of the walls. I started to feel drowsy when images of Whole Cake Island started to show again. I could almost swear the smell of the sweets was real.

“Hey, wake up. I didn't bring you here to sleep all day,” said the golden jackass slapping in the face.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!”

That's when I noticed the smell of all kinds of food filling the atmosphere. The room now looks like a jungle of food, with donuts sprouting from trees and spaghetti waterfalls.

“So, is this place also real?”

“Yes, the Boin Archipelago has a series of islands that flourish food from their plants,”

“I owe an apology to Usopp. I thought this was another one of his lies,”

He looked at me with curiosity, and I added, “A crewmate said he went there, but he is the king of lying, so nobody believed him,”

His laugh thundered around the room “Not that many people go there and come out to tell the tale, he managed to do it and nobody believes him? That's just perfect” he said.

“Enough off time. You had your rest,” he added.

“Wait, can't we stay for longer?” I asked, not wanting to go back to the wall. 

“You are the one who fell asleep. Next time, try to enjoy the few seconds you have off the wall with your eyes open,” he said before walking towards the exit.

After fighting to get up from the cursed beanbag, I caught up to him. The corridor keeps playing images of the Boin islands with their respective scent. I guess the room also produces artificial smells to match the images. 

My stomach roars out of a sudden, and Tesoro looks back at me with a sinister grin.

“Hungry already, Roronoa?” he said.

How am I hungry? When I fell asleep, I was still so full I felt like a stuffed turkey. How long did I sleep?

“You are in luck, food is almost ready, and we can have an early dinner,” he added.

While I think of rejecting the offer, the images of the food and the enticing aroma make my mouth water. 

“Just this one time,” I say reluctantly.

<< First Chapter / <Previous Chapter /

[allgeek-sims]

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[gojo-enthusiast]

Chapter Three: New Home

mlist<3

My Serial Killer — Suguru Geto Series

It had been 2 months since you moved into Geto’s estate, despite the both of you sharing a bedroom, which also meant you both shared his king size bed, he had not taken advantage of you. He would graze his hands around your waist when he passed by you, or when he went to grab something that you were standing in front of, at those times you would mutter; "Do you have to stand so close?" With a scoff. You were natrually shy, but the tall broad man was calloused, and sweet in speech, yet you would ask yourself— “why would he deserve such pretty words and a timid attitude from me?” Despite all the time and little grazes, he did not touch you more than that.

"Don't be so sour." He growled into your ear. "Ah! Get out of my ear." You waved him off. You heard him chuckle to himself, as he grabbed a cup and walked away. "Fucking asshole." You thought to yourself, rolling your eyes. You began to see this silly side of him, he would come home covered in blood, or his face would look disgusted, or tired. Yet when you appeared in front of him, he would smile, and jokingly play with you, like as if you had become comfortable with him.

You were not.

Later on the day you were sitting on his big sectional, watching some tv show, eating ice cream. You spent a lot of your days doing that, all these shows you never had time to watch, you zombied yourself to the couch. "Hey pretty girl." One of Suguru’s new followers said to you. He was not allowed in the living room, you knew that for sure. "You're not allowed in here." You said plainly, but your hands began to shake. "I had to come see the nice piece of ass Sensai picked up. Are you as innocent as you look?" He smirks. "Please leave me be." You said standing up, to leave the room. "Hey hey hey, it's just me and you. I can take you away from here, let me just taste that pretty pus-" The man said, but was cut off by Geto slamming him down to the ground. "You like messing with what's mine? You know what I did to the last guy who touched my bride?" He growled. "I slit his throat, cut off his dick, and stuffed it into his mouth as he was chocking on his own blood." Geto muttered into his ear. "Now should I cut your tongue out, or cut your hands and feet off? You won't be able to take her anywhere with no feet and hands" Geto questioned. "Please no, I won't mess with her." The man cried. "Choose." He hissed. The man cried, and begged for mercy.

"Y/n, you get to choose. Tongue or limbs?" Geto peered up at you. You stood there frozen, you were not going to influence this behavior, you understood why he did what he did, but taking it to this extreme was beyond wrong. "Let him go. Please Suguru." You huffed out, trying control your tears. "Let's make a compromise, he touched your shoulder with his index finger. I get to cut it off, and the tip of his tongue." Geto eyed you. "Please please let me go!" The man cried out. Suguru stuck the knife into his mouth. "Shut the fuck up!" He hissed. "What about it y/n?" He asked again. You stood there frozen, you couldn't be apart of this. "Please just let him go." You looked away, trying to hide the fear. Geto stiffened up, the last thing he wanted was for you to fear him. Removing the knife from the mans mouth, he lifted the man up from his shirt. "Quit your crying, if it weren't for y/n kindness, I would have gutted you. Today you will walk out here with 9 toes and 9 fingers." Geto scoffed as he drug him out the living room, and disappearing to god knows where.

"Why won't he just be mean to me so I can hate him." You thought to yourself. You felt yourself become soft overtime for the man. By month 5, when everyone thought you were dead, and stopped looking for you. You became used to living at the estate. You loved gardening, so Geto built you a green house, and helped you set up different pots, and beds for your growing plants and foods. You baked like you did back when you ran the bakery. You cooked new things, enjoying having a huge kitchen to move around and cook foreign foods. "Try this." You held the spoon with a homemade sauce you made. Suguru opened his mouth, letting the sauce sit on his tongue. "Good, spicy." He swallowed, and smiling softly. You could see the way he was softer around you, and kept his violent ways, away from your sight. One day especially, one of the guards had started a fight with the other, over money to be exact. And Suguru snapped his neck the moment you were out of sight. You heard a yelp, then silence. You didn't ask, he didn't tell.

"What are you making?" He questioned. "Hehe." You giggled. "Ramen." You chuckled. "Ramen?" He questioned. "Yep, it's my comfort food." You smiled. You were making it the way your mom made it. "My mom used to make it for me when I was living at home. Anytime I had a long day, or just not feeling my best, she would make me this receipe and it cheered me up." You smiled from the thought of your mom. "You wanna see her?" He questioned. You perked up, "What do you mean?" You asked. "Do you... Want to... See Her, your mom?” He chuckled from his emphasizing. "I mean of course." You said. "Okay." He said plainly. That was the end of that conversation and you both sat there, eating ramen in silence, but you were convinced your heart was beating so loud that Suguru had to hear it. You felt the pulsating in your eyes, you were growing soft and drawn to this criminal, yet he seemed to love you in a way that made you feel like you would always be safe.

[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."

[thenationaltreasuregazette]

I'm In: Abigail's Arc, pt 3

Part 1 | Part 2

First, we looked at what Abigail's arc in the first National Treasure movie actually is, and how it compares to Elizabeth Swann's in Pirates of the Caribbean: Curse of the Black Pearl.

Then we followed both our ladies into the alluring peril and chaos that comprised their respective adventures.

Now, the epic conclusion!

I was gonna feel bad about this being three parts, but it actually parallels the three acts of each movie pretty well so...neat.

Part 8: From Bad to Worse

Elizabeth promises herself to Norrington to save Will, and Abigail promises the treasure to Ian in order to save Ben.

Both of these are pretty big sacrifices.

Said third parties hold up their end of the bargain, at least for the moment: Ian's crew orchestrates Ben's escape and the British Navy mounts a rescue attempt for Will.

And then, the double crossing begins!

Ian double crosses Ben! Everyone in POTC double crosses everyone!

The plans our ladies have orchestrated to get their guys out of a jam has led, temporarily, to a bigger jam.

Ian has kidnapped Patrick (and Abigail and Riley) to use as leverage to force Ben to find the treasure.

While the British Navy is waiting to ambush the pirates, Barbossa's crew goes on a curse-fueled fantastically badass undersea march to wreck what's left of the Navy ship.

Elizabeth frees the pirate crew with the aim of rescuing Will and Jack, and when they refuse, she sets off alone to get the job done.

Abigail is a little more just along for the ride at this point, but into the third act battle they go.

Something significant happens here in both arcs: I think I'll call it the, umm, Values Sync Battle Time?

Part 9: Values Sync Battle

In POTC this is a literal battle. As Jack duels with Barbossa, Will and Elizabeth work together to fend off the rest of the cursed pirates remaining in the cave. And not just, like, both fight at the same time, they are fighting together. They are passing weapons back and forth and teaming up to outsmart their enemies without even having to talk about it.

They are in sync. They are on the same page. They make a great team.

In NatTreas it's not a battles against an antagonist, but it is a fight for their lives. I am referring of course to the stair sequence.

Abigail pulls Ben onto a stable section of the staircase and then they both board the second elevator. The pully mechanism gives way and the elevator swings dangerously over the pit with Abigail hanging over the edge. And the Declaration is about to fall off the side.

ABIGAIL The Declaration. BEN Do you trust me? ABIGAIL Yes.

They may be two of the only people in the world who would make this choice drop/be dropped in order to save a piece of parchment but damn do they both want to do this. Talk about being in sync and sharing the same values.

Riley, obviously, had other thoughts.

RILEY I would have dropped you both. Freaks.

Part 10: Rock Bottom

Now, both parties outsmart their antagonist and earn...a huge loss and near-certain death.

The treasure room is empty and there's no other way out; the Black Pearl is gone and Jack is sentenced to the gallows.

Ben and Jack resign themselves to this loss.

But Patrick and Will step in to say no, we keep fighting. Patrick encourages Ben to keep searching for the treasure—which is a huge character turn from where he started—and Will rescues Jack, which is an act of piracy. Also a major character turn, although one that's been building steadily throughout the film.

Then our ladies get to announce that they've made the same turns themselves.

Elizabeth steps in front of Will and Jack, defending them from the British Navy and rejecting Norrington's proposal in the process.

NORRINGTON So this is where your heart truly lies, then? ELIZABETH It is.

Elizabeth is finally declaring her loyalties, which honestly she's held since the start of the film; she's always been pining for Will and infatuated with pirates, but she could never say so out loud before. Now she can:

GOVERNOR SWANN After all, he is a blacksmith. ELIZABETH (lovingly) No. He's a pirate.

And by extension, so is she.

Elizabeth will have two more movies to complete her transformation into the pirate king, but her position for now is clear: yay pirates.

Abigail, similarly, completes her character arc with two simple words.

ABIGAIL I'm in.

Part 11: I'm in

Admittedly, when I was first into National Treasure as a kid, this line didn't really register with me. I don't even think I liked Abigail all that much as a character?

But now I find this one of the most interesting character lines in the film.

Sure there are lots of more iconic, more quotable lines:

I'm gonna steal it. I'm gonna steal the Declaration of Independence

Who do you have? Him??

If you're not a steak you don't belong here.

Sir, it's the Hudson. Nothing is visible.

Look. Stairs.

Just to name a few.

But I find "I'm in" so fascinating because she doesn't really need to say this, right? Patrick is helping a rather despondent Ben get back on the proverbial treasure hunt horse.

PATRICK Okay. So we keep looking.

Abigail doesn't have to follow this up with "I'm in." She could say something the ensures Ben she believes in him without directly involving herself in the future of the treasure hunt. But instead, when presented with the opportunity, she jumps in.

Just like the lemon juice.

Just like calling Ian.

There is a part of Abigail Chase that has always been fascinated by the idea of treasure hunting. That curiosity kept her indulging Ben's claims back in her office, up to a point, and inquiring more about the pipe at the gala. It drove her to be the one to put lemon juice on the Declaration and get excited about the result.

Again, there are lots of ways out of this scene without her promising she's going to continue searching for the treasure. She could even be considering the idea of dating Ben and not being directly involved in any more treasure hunting herself. She could say, "wow what a crazy weekend, glad that's over," but she doesn't.

Instead, when the demands of the life she's built for herself are removed—she thinks she's long past lost her job at this point, not to mention they've been left for dead in a giant pit—when she has no obligation to be any specific kind of person and nothing left to lose, she chooses treasure hunting. She wants to stay involved in this. She likes treasure hunting. Other than the life or death peril, who wouldn't?

It must be so exciting for someone whose spent most of her life studying American history to suddenly have that history come to life. To be tangible, to be interconnected, and to be affecting the present in such concrete ways. Abigail has an office full of revolutionary era artifacts; she works with antique documents for a living. But she has never used them. Not in the vibrant way the treasure hunt demands.

Conclusion

Through the treasure hunt Abigail finds freedom. Maybe a freedom she didn't even realize she was looking for.

Like Elizabeth, she had been going about her respectable, if perhaps slightly narrow, life until something—and someone—calls to her.

Pirate gold.

Freemason pipes.

Throwing off the confines of your socially acceptable life in order to chase the freedom and adventure that had been whispering at you through the seams of your high status existence.

Something, something, two nickels.

[lynketa]

A Draft of a HXH fanfic I wanted to accomplish when I was at my lowest

,,, THE stench of isopropyl mixed with all kinds of medicine sprouted through the air. An abnormal combination of life and death; Of sickness and recovering. Neophytes like yourself scamper to and fro, following the instructors orders as newly-fledged nurses. Hurrying their pens akin to the construction of a symphony, constituted one by one to file the piece of artistic value; a piece deemed important for years to uphold. From the composer’s heartache, ready to define themselves– to the world– as an archetypal musician, the change of a generation’s harmony.

Or in this case… to file the pieces of notable knowledge for future usage. For the future of lives, saved by your hands. A fruitful thought. One that makes you smile despite the stoicness you present. You and the assiduous bunch listened attentively, adorned with dark bags under their eye lids, foretold the signs of diligence throughout the four-years of training. To the passage of your licensure exam.

As a fledged nurse, you were able to obtain employment– along with some classmates– to practice professionally in a healthcare setting. (Name) carried their notes, a sense of solitude against the stressful environment. Touring the place, the instructor went into details about each work room, storage, and nurses that can help neophytes when necessary.

“No blood thinners, right?” A snippet of life. “Nope. He’s fine– “ A patient no more than 40, lays on the rustled sheets of white. A cannula for the nose, and an IV bag to maintain blood pressure.

Phew, I remembered.

“Now everyone–” Gaining your attention, you shift your gaze upfront. The instructor, a man with a bright smile. A comforting warmth. “Never give up, no matter the hardships you face.” his voice laced with a tinge of longing… an emotion you can’t decipher.

Desperation perhaps?

"Good luck." He hands out papers, filled with schedules and tips. As you come forward, his expression—in a breezing second — seemed pitiful. Why?

Through silence, (Name) realized his pity look. You were gonna regret this, huh?

"... Should've gone for pharmacist..." You murmur, a vow to the unknown.

I never got to finish it because of my self-confidence and just kept it in my unpublished section for 2-3 ish years.

I don't know how the fuck I got to write like I was possessed by a shakesperean puppet writing a self-insert between me and an overly-white, hot, ahh vampire.

But I ain't complaining