#I did however knack my wrist colouring this

[onehundredfallenpetals]

A new deal - something soft for early February since everyone will be sad on this shuake holiday

[yael-things]

oooo you drew mer passione! what are their outfits like and what color are their tails

OK HELLO FIRST OF ALL. BRUNO'S HAIRCLIPS ARE CHITONS .

if u want an actually good mermaid design that r BEAUTIFUL, look at this !!!

i did my own little design things, but tbh i didnt think that much abt color and also im nit that much of a mermaid connoscieur or however u spell that .

also my apologies i dont rly Know anything abt these kinds of algaes i put down, i just know what they look like. as far as i was able to find theyre not poisonous so the gang Should be fine !

abbacchio

- little purple thing on his head? starfish !! yeah its weird . but it looks cute

- honestly shouldve thought more abt the clothing, just came up with tightly roped together dark algae !

mista

- his hat is just an actual hat he found

- his sweater is like a mesh shirt made of algae !! i forgor the type but uh dark green / blue with red algae accents by the wrists

- his little choker thing is also red algae

fugo

- red algae necklace !! sometimes he ties little pretty pieces of coral to some of the necklaces he made (pls excuse this if its absolute nonsense mermaid enjoyers)

- knitted sea grass suit, mostly tied together . he still managed to keep his little suit holes

narancia

- macro cystis algae bandana macro cystis algae bandana !!!!

- his hip thingies (the pieces of the skirt that stick out on top of the belt) are little parts of corals he plucked out and wrapped together with dark green algae, then added macro cystis and red algae accents

- starfish instead of belt buckle on his shirt !! ik that starfishes are a weird animal to wear (arent they crawing heads that use their lips to move) but pls excuse that !

- his arm warmer thingies are a mixture of red algae of various kinds (thinner)

bruno

- his lingerie is made of braided filamentous algae

- his hair pins are chitons (couldnt find a specific species ...)

- instead of zippers, i ended up caving in an adding shells that are braided together by algae

- his little bracelet is of small pieces of shells braided together with algae

- the things on top of his head were going to be sea dollars but that is straight up a living thing. or a carcass. which ohhhh no . so i'll just leave it as either those flatter shells or just a braid !

i rly didnt think abt the colors and tail designs ... i dont have a knack or enough experience !! i hope u enjoy this though :))

[stonebreakerseries]

Day3: Youth + “You did this?”

Day 3 of @oc-growth-and-development​​’s OC-tober challenge and the @fictober-event​!

Series: Stonebreaker (Original Fiction) Characters: Tellene & Re’an

If the knock at her door had been any more timid, Tellene might have mistaken it for a trick of the wind. Well, it’s about time. Huffing, she reached down, sliding the key around her wrist into a small hole in her desk. With a twist, the door at the far side of the room clicked open. “Come in,” she said, taking a brief moment to check the state of her robes, making sure the red lapel lay flat and creaseless. Appearances were important business in Tel Shival. Almost as important as one’s skill, although the two seemed closer in competition now than they used to be. It was difficult to stand out in a place so overflowing with talent. Both the Allied Kingdoms and Khathi Empire only ever sent their best, and even then, most were turned away.

Luckily, Tellene, First of the Weavers, never had a problem making a name for herself.

It had been quite some time since she last dealt with an accolt. Being the youngest and least capable among their ranks, Tellene never had the patience to hold their hands as they trembled their way through basic glyphstrings. In fact, it was a testament to her dislike of instructing that she only spent a year as a Leirah before seeking - and gaining - a place among the Maesars. Now, Tellene folded her hands in front of her and fixed her narrowed gaze on the door as it tentatively inched open.

Oh Divider’s Own...

“Quickly, accolt. My time is precious. I will not have it wasted.” 

That seemed to do the trick. By the drawing of her next breath, a nervous youth stood in her study, the door swinging shut behind him, his hands worrying the white sash around his waist. Like many from the western-most regions of the Empire, Re’an was slight in stature, his grey-brown skin reminding Tellene of the ashewoods that bordered her childhood home. While his entry record placed him at nineteen, he looked at least three years younger, with wide brown eyes and an almost frenetic disposition. Although, she conceded that could be circumstantial, given her reputation. Not to worry. The rigours of study and the intellectual warren of academia would age him soon enough.

However, and most interestingly, this young man had already found a way to stand out from the herd.

“M-Maeser Tellene,” Re’an stammered. Then, like a panicked afterthought, he raised two fingers to his throat and bowed his head reverently. Or it would have been reverent, if he didn’t appear moments away from fainting. “I, um… y-you sent for me?”

Tellene arched a brow. Rather than state the obvious, she simply cleared her throat and raised a small bundle of papers, bound together by a red string. Holding them aloft for Re’an to see, it was hard not to feel a little sympathy as the colour drained from his skin. “You did this?” she asked. 

Funny, how simple questions rarely received simple answers.

“No,” he replied immediately, almost instinctively, then hesitated. “I mean, I-I’m not… I’m not sure if… I don’t---”

---“Let me make this easier,” Tellene interjected. She flipped the papers over and inspected the cover page. “Is your name Re’an?”

He cringed, but nodded, some of the nervous energy bleeding out as he resigned himself to his fate. “Yes, Maesar.”

“And you are a third year accolt?”

“Yes, Maesar.”

“And you recently sat an exam for Leirah Sonoval’s class on...” She glanced at the paper again, barely concealing a frown. “Thaumic Rhetoric: A History of Dissent?”

What in the Divider’s name were they teaching these days?

With her opinions carefully hidden behind painfully endured etiquette training, Tellene simply returned her attention to Re’an. Again, he nodded, apparently having lost the ability to use his voice. Sighing, Tellene was about to press on, but an errant thought stopped her in her tracks. This could be an interesting moment to gauge his mettle. In fact, with what she intended, she would be remiss not to seize such an organic opportunity.

“I imagine,” she continued slowly, setting the papers down and turning to the first page, “you have some theories as to why you are here?”

To her surprise, Re’an didn’t hesitate, equivocate, or attempt any other twist of rhetoric he had so clearly studied. 

“I cheated.”

Good. So, he was reasonably honest, despite evidence to the contrary. That or he was clever enough to know that lying would serve him poorly. Either way, Tellene approved. If nothing else, it showed he could assess a situation quickly and with some accuracy, even while shaking hard enough she swore she could hear his bones clicking together. 

Folding her hands on her desk, Tellene flicked her gaze to the wooden chair at the side of the room, nestled between stacks of books. Hesitantly, Re’an followed her silent instruction, picking it up and carrying it over. Once he set it down, he stood awkwardly by its side, unsure of how to proceed. I love that my reputation still precedes me, Tellene thought, before making an acquiescing motion.

“Sit, and tell me exactly how you cheated.”

Even though Re’an perched on its edge, chair seemed to swallow him, his arms drawn close, heel bouncing agitatedly against the carpeted floor. But then, much to her surprise, his brown eyes flicked up, meeting her gaze. Holding it. 

Interesting. 

“You don’t already know?”

A faint smile threatened the corner of Tellene’s lips. She fended it off. “It is clear to anyone with a set of eyes that you copied entire sentences - sometimes paragraphs - from a variety of seminal texts.” She leaned forward, chair creaking slightly beneath her. “I asked how you did it, in an exam hall, under the watchful eye of three supervising Leirah. And do not lie to me. This is important.”

Re’an shifted, wiping his palms on his robes. It was though his skin was too tight and he wanted nothing more than to be rid of it. “I, ah…” The words stuck like glue to the back of his throat. “I... have a bane, Maesar.”

Tellene regarded him flatly. “A bane.” With a suffering sigh, she reached up, massaging her forehead with her fingertips. Unfortunately, it took time to overcome a youth spent surrounded by misinformed superstition; nonsense like banes and knacks and the old gods. It was yet another process she lacked patience for. “Oh, very well. What kind of bane, then?”

Clearly sensing her irritation - mostly because she never bothered to conceal it - Re’an refused to meet her gaze, chin down, fists pressed to the tops of his thighs. “I-I remember things well. Too well. Mostly things I read, like words, pictures, symbols...” He pulled in a breath, then mustered the courage to look up again. “Maeser Tellene, I read every text Leirah Sonoval set, then a few more outside the curriculum. The Maeser Librarian recommended some papers as well, and I read those too. Exams, they… they make me nervous. It gets hard to think, so I always over-prepare.”

“Many accolts feel the same way, and compensate similarly.” She tapped his paper with her nail, the sound sharp, ringing through the room. “That does not explain what you did here.”

Re’an hesitated. “I know what I need to say, most of the time. But when I start changing the words it just…” He wrinkled his nose, and Tellene saw an old frustration in the expression. This was not a recent struggle for him. “It just doesn’t sound right anymore. It’s like the way it was written the first time was how it was meant to go, and when I change it, something always gets lost. This time, when I saw the question, I panicked. So I just took the parts of what I read that seemed relevant and wrote them down. I didn’t even think about---”

Tellene held up a finger, silencing Re’an mid-sentence. “I did not ask for excuses. You are not here to beg forgiveness.”

The comment seemed to surprise him. “I’m not?” A genuine look of confusion swept across his face, followed closely by an even more surprising emotion. One that straightened his spine and brightened his eyes with something alarmingly familiar. “Then... why am I here?”

Curiosity.

Tellene leaned back in her chair, folding her hands over her stomach. “I have met many thaumists with incredible memories. In truth, as a Maesar Weaver, I consider myself among them. But even in the best of circumstances, none of us can transcribe entire passages of relevant information - from multiple resources - with perfect accuracy. Not the way you have. It is highly unusual.”

Some of the young man’s self-consciousness returned. “Yeah, I know.” He caught himself, stiffening. “Ah, I mean: yes, Maesar Tellene.”

She waved a dismissive hand. “How long have you been in Tel Shival, Re’an?”

“Three years.”

“Do you lack ambition?”

He blinked, startled. “No? Maesar, I---”

---“Then why have you hidden this skill for so long?”

Still rattled by her previous question, he answered this one with far less hesitation, hands shaking. “Because I didn’t want people treating me like I’m---”

Tellene raised her brows as Re’an bit off his sentence, his jaw physically clenching from the strain of it. “Like an anomaly?” she offered. Re’an huffed, a rueful smile tinging his lips that made him appear much closer to his age. Maybe even a little older.

“That is a... nicer way of putting it than I’m used to, Maesar.”

Ah. There it is. He had been hurt before. Treated like an oddity at best, an aberration at worst. She would have to tread more carefully than she thought. “Re’an,” she said, and her tone pulled him out of his mind and back into the room. “You are aware that what you are capable of is in no way a ‘bane’, are you not?” 

“I…” He looked down. “Yes, Maesar.”

Not so honest, then.

As much as Tellene lacked patience for most accolts, this one tugged at her. It spurred something almost protective; an instinct she thought she had fed to the sharks years ago. Perhaps being faced by a unique mind, still young enough to doubt its own capacity, had struck a chord she thought severed. Or perhaps she had simply uncovered some long-buried empathy.

Either way, she had made her decision.

“Cheating on a final exam is grounds for severe censure, depending on the Leirah. You are aware of this?”

Re’an squeezed his eyes shut. “Yes, Maesar.”

“And you are aware, being in your third year, that any censures on your record will severely jeopardise your opportunities when selecting a discipline?”

He sounded almost feverish. Defeated. “Yes, Maesar.” He swallowed tightly. “I… I want to apologise. I made a mistake. I will accept whatever punishment Leirah Sonoval sees fit.”

“Leirah Sonoval would have you expelled.”

Wide brown eyes fixed on her, horrified. ”He---what?” Re’an bolted to his feet, breaths coming in short bursts. It was as though he was unsure of whether to stay, run, or faint. “Maesar, please, I won’t do it again - I swear I won’t. It was one time - the only one in the three years I’ve been here. I can retake the exam, a harder one even, I don’t care. I’ll do anything, but please, please…”

Part of Tellene thought this moment would be somehow satisfying. It was an important moment - one she could not avoid if she was to make sure she got what she needed. But instead, as she watched Re’an blink back tears, frantic and terrified, all she felt was pity. Maybe even guilt.

Divider, what was happening to her lately? She was losing her touch. It was a good thing she rarely left her studies, or maintaining her reputation would be significantly more difficult.

“What discipline did you plan to join, Re’an?”

The change of subject - possibly even her change in tone - managed to shake him from his panic. Somewhat. “I… I couldn’t decide between the Augists and the Weavers.”

For the first time, Tellene allowed a smile to tinge her lips. “Well... perhaps I can help you reach a decision.”

This time, when he looked at her, there was no more fear. No more self-consciousness. No more dread. There was simply hope, pure and reckless. 

“Y-You would let me join the Weavers?” Re’an swiped his eyes hurriedly with his sleeve, clearly embarrassed. “But Leirah Sonoval---”

---“Has no power over a Maesar’s charge.” She met his gaze. “I will allow him to assign you some texts on academic ethics to appease his wounded pride, but should you accept, that will be the end of the matter.” She paused, then added, “Provided you do not do it again.” Unless instructed.

She gave him a moment to let her offer sink in. It was an extremely rare thing for an accolt to be taken on as a charge, yet alone by a Maesar. In her twelve years as First of the Weavers, Tellene had never even considered taking a charge. Even from among the Leirah, who had petitioned her incessantly for a good ten of them. It was too much work for too little return. Too much like mentoring, which she had gone to great lengths to avoid.

Yet... here she was.

“You won’t regret this,” Re’an said suddenly, as though reading her mind. He seemed to have collected himself, and while he still trembled, there was something else about him now. Something charged and determined, if not to prove himself, then to prove others wrong. That was good - he would have to do a lot of that. No one takes kindly to someone pulling ahead of the pack. Divider, he reminded her of another man she knew. All he needed was red hair and about ten times the stubbornness. “Maesar Tellene,” Re’an continued, “I don’t know how to thank you.”

At that, Tellene snorted, arching a brow. “If you think you will be thanking me for this, you clearly have not been paying attention. I suspect your dormmates have already reallocated your bed and said their farewells to their fallen friend.” When Re’an actually smiled, Tellene struggled against the urge to immediately scare it away. No, that would not do - not if he was to be her charge for the foreseeable future. She could not bear timidity for any length of time. “You will meet me here every morning, directly after first meal. I am beginning your lessons in advanced glyphwork early.”

Re’an nodded frantically, swept along by the moment and all of its promise. 

Then he stopped.

“Um... Maesar?”

“Yes?”

“I have Leirah Pelona’s class after first meal tomorrow.”

“I see.” Tellene leaned back, chair creaking beneath her weight. “Have you read the works of Djenovir?

“Yes, Maesar.”

“And you can recite them?”

“Yes.”

“Then you have already completed the class.” With that, she turned the key in her desk, and the door on the far side of the room clicked open. “Don’t be late.”

[shadowphoenixrider]

Firestarter

(Technically a continuation of this little fic I wrote, this fic is actually a mashed together RP me and @den-of-tigers did together, featuring my OC Katla having her Grand Trial versus Den’s excellent Nanu - seriously I can’t take credit for 98% of Nanu here, it’s all her!

We merged anime and game rules together for this and did dice rolls for certain outcomes. The dice apparently had a sense of drama. Hope you enjoy!)

"Aww shit." Katla cursed. There it was, in black and white - the latest boat to Melemele Island had set sail ten minutes ago, and the next wasn't for an hour. "I knew I should have just beaned my ass down here instead of getting breakfast."

The trainer huffed softly to herself, folding her arms. She had been hoping to go and explore Poni Island for more Pokemon, but the endorsements of the three previous island’s Kahunas were needed, and Ula’Ula’s was missing. And was staying missing.

Turned out that the Kahuna had been the police officer who let her into Po Town in the first place, like she had been suspecting. If he'd not mentioned his status, Katla assumed it was for a very good reason, and she would leave him alone. That is, if she could get a boat back to Melemele...

"Well, I guess I can chill in the gardens for a while." She mused to herself. "Find a quiet spot and do some meditation. It'll pass the time, at least." She turned away from the postings and began to walk back into the city, her mind turning inward as she strode quickly through the streets.

"Hey, missy - thinking of heading back to Melemele?”

It took a minute for her to realize someone was speaking to her, and when she did, Katla froze, one foot swinging uselessly above the ground for a second. That voice!

The young woman shifted her weight, pivoting on her heel to face the police officer now formally known as Nanu, Kahuna of Ula’Ula. He seemed slightly less intimidating in the bright light of day, leaning against a malasada shop wall with one in his hand, but so did a lone Wishiwashi.

“I was,” she said evenly. “Kahuna.”

“Ah, so you caught on.” Nanu commented. “I figured you would eventually - usually Acerola pulls some stunt, hides my kendama and won’t give it back until I cave. She thinks it's just a toy... then again, she's a kid.” His crimson eyes came to rest on her, a glint within them. “You're not."

Katla wasn’t exactly sure to make of this turn of personality, but she wasn’t going to look a Mudsdale in the mouth.

“I...had an inkling, what with your Z crystal and ring and all,” she gestured. “But it was Acerola who confirmed it for me.”

“Hmm. So, we come to the million-pokédollar question, missy,” one of Nanu’s thick eyebrows arched upwards. “You think you're ready for my Grand Trial?"

Katla chewed her lip. Her gut churned warily, and it hadn’t led her astray yet. However...

“I don’t think you’d be asking me if you didn’t think I was at least passable.” She replied, choosing her words with care. “I dare say I can give it a fair shot.” It’s either that or sit in Malie’s gardens for an hour.

“You’re not wrong on either of those counts.” Nanu replied, after having taken a sizeable bite of his malasada, chewing and swallowing.

"Lots of responsibilities being Ula'ula's Kahuna and its head security officer, besides. I'm sure you can understand why I'd appreciate a nap or being left the hell alone now and then," he added. Another bite of malasada, then another, and it was gone.

"Maybe I'm a little too lazy sometimes. Depends on who you ask," Nanu chuckled, shrugging one shoulder. "Regardless, you did a damn fine job in Po Town, and those kids are thrilled to have their stolen Pokemon back.”

Katla smiled weakly, lifting a shoulder.

“Ah, heh, I’m glad. Least I could do for them.”

“In my Trial, it's one of your Pokemon against three of mine, in turn. If you're not serious about it, don't waste my time." Those dark red eyes were indeed serious, his gruff tone equally so.

The trainer’s eyebrow arched.

“That’s...different.” She commented, feeling a part of her balk at it. We're not gonna get through this are you nuts? And yet...Katla's eyes traced over the Kahuna, sizing him up. What's the worst that could happen? We lose? Big woop. At least Kukui's not gonna bother you with an excuse like that.

"I like a bit of a change," she said, a smile pulling at the corner of her lips. "I accept, on the condition I get a chance to choose my Pokemon, and we find a better place for a scrap away from an audience."

Nanu snorted, crumpling the empty bag between both hands and tossing it into a nearby trash receptacle.

"Of course you get to choose which Pokemon you use, what did you think I was gonna do?  Make you juggle the balls and use the first one dropped? Although..." He looked to be thinking that suggestion over intensely, then laughed under his breath. "As for a better place to do things, I think I know one."  A 'follow-me' gesture with one hand, and the Kahuna began to walk off, shoving both hands in his pockets.

Katla rolled her eyes, falling into step with the older man.

"Yeah, the reason I said that, Kahuna, is because I have more than six. And if you're gonna make me run a gauntlet like that, I'm damn well gonna pick my best shot," she said. "You can watch me pick 'em out if you want, but all that it will do is make me fall down in your estimations. I'm not hiding Rayquaza up my sleeve or anything." She arched her eyebrow. "Not like I was exactly prepared for you to come to me."

"I might have the knack for showing up when it's least expected." He flashed her a grin.

"Yeah, I noticed that." Katla replied dryly.

After a brief stop off at the Pokemon Centre, trainer and Kahuna reached their destination in Route 11 without much small talk. It was an area of plenty of space, hard ground and no tall grass to worry about. Nodding in satisfaction, the Kahuna reached to his back pocket and pulled out his Rotom-phone, glancing over to Katla as she strolled over to her side of the ‘arena’.

"One of your Pokemon, versus three of mine. You ready?" 

"Yup. We keep going until one of us has no usable Pokemon remaining." She lifted up the hem of her hoodie, reaching to her belt to undo the straps that attached her colourful assortment of Pokeballs to it. "And to make sure I won't even have a sliver of temptation..." She took the first Pokeball out, and walked several paces away to set the others down. She knew that they could come to her if called, but Katla didn't want them too close, just in case. Just stay in there, please. 

She returned to her original position, single ball in hand, feeling almost naked without the comforting weight of the rest of her team around her waist. She pressed the button, the Pokeball swelling to fill her hand. "Ready when you are, Kahuna." As ready as I'll ever be.

He nodded, content with her response.

"Rotom, gonna need you on live recording mode," he said, at which the phone Pokemon buzzed to life, neon-blue eyes glowing brightly.

"Affirmative, Nanu!  Switching to live recording mode... begin recording, now!" 

A quick, short clearing of his throat, and Nanu addressed the 'audience', speaking at a slightly louder volume than usual. 

"This is Officer Nanu, Kahuna of Ula'ula Island.  Today, just off of route 11 - on the outskirts of Malie City, I'll be officiating and conducting a Grand Trial. My challenger is Trainer Katla, from the Galar region." His Rotom zoomed over to the young woman.  "Say hello, Trainer Katla!"

Oh shit. Katla had reckoned that he would be recording as soon as she saw the phone appear, but this? She was as tense as a broom handle when the Rotom swept over to her, and it took every ounce of effort to try and not look like she was supremely uncomfortable.

"Hi." She managed, flatly. Suddenly she felt an overwhelming urge to go back and pick the rest of her team up again, if only so she didn't feel so terribly exposed, but managed to hold her ground.

"Best of luck to you, Katla!" the Rotom chirped in electronic positivity, before returning to its owner, the trainer almost breathed a sigh of relief. Calm down, it’s just you and him, she tried to remind herself.

"Tapu Bulu - with your approval, let this Grand Trial begin!" Nanu exclaimed, crossing both wrists overhead and looking to the sky. Seconds later, a loud, echoing gong sounded - the bronze bell of Ula'ula's deity, raising goosebumps across Katla’s skin and making the scars under her hoodie sleeves prickle slightly. Lowering his arms and fixing his gaze on her - those crimson eyes had a different shine to them now - the Kahuna reached behind with one hand, suddenly moving forward into a full-bodied throw of his first Pokeball.

"Sableye! Let's go!"

Katla took a steeling breath, trying to pull herself back into her previous mindset when the Kahuna's first Pokemon came tumbling out. Her eyebrow arched at the sight of the Darkness Pokemon. Ohh, you sneaky bastard. Force trainers to run a gauntlet, then trip them up at the starting line with a Pokemon with only one weakness. Clever. Looks like I got lucky with my choice.

She raised her own Pokeball up to her forehead, closing her eyes for a moment. When she opened them again, they were brighter.

"Alright, little one, let's go! Rimbombee, I choose you!" She slung the ball down, and it bounced open to release the diminutive Bee Fly Pokemon.

Nanu raised his own eyebrow, then shook his head and chuckled.

"A Ribombee? Really? What a shame, figured you might have something a little more... tomboyish up the sleeves of that hoodie," he called out, motioning to Sableye. As if the Darkness Pokemon had eyes in the back of its head, it spread clawed fingers and hissed in obvious agreement with the Kahuna.

Katla shrugged, nonplussed. Trying to get under my skin, are you? Alright.

"My apologies, Kahuna, but I have it on good authority that I have far too many Gyarados for my own good.” She replied. “That and the rest of my more 'tomboyish' Pokemon are in another PokeCentre."

The older man was equally as unbothered that his barb had glanced off.

"Hmm. Doesn't matter though. Can't sting like a bee if you're swatted like a fly - Sableye! Shadow Sneak!"

Sableye hissed again, a streak of darkness extending from its feet all the way to where Ribombee hovered. The Bee Fly’s placid smile turned into a determined frown, but despite the little bug’s attempts to get away from it, an amorphous shape materialized from behind her, the Darkness Pokemon suddenly re-taking its physical form and slashing with wicked, shadowy claws. Katla winced at the blow, recovering quickly.

"Hmph. Gotta admit, slightly disappointed in you, Kahuna.” She commented. “Surely you of all people know not to judge by appearances alone." Especially against a Pokemon your type is doubly weak to. She blinked, suddenly all business. "Rimbombee, Dazzling Gleam!"

The Bee Fly thrilled loudly, the scales of its wings glowing brighter, and brighter, and then brighter still, Sableye snarling loudly and both Kahuna and trainer having to avert their gaze. Nanu’s Rotom moved quickly to capture all the action, providing commentary in lieu of a referee.

"Ribombee's Dazzling Gleam is super effective - Sableye takes some serious damage!" the Plasma Pokemon exclaimed excitedly, and a determined half-grin grew across Katla’s lips. Alright, now we’re talking.

The Kahuna shoved both hands into his pockets.

"Shake it off, Sableye - you're not down for the count yet. Give that bug a Shadow Claw!"

Katla’s grin vanished, discarding the expression with ease.

“Ri! Get out of there and banish this darkness with another Dazzling Gleam!”

The Darkness Pokemon let go a high-pitched shriek and lunged for Ribombee again, and whilst the little bug was fast, she wasn’t fast enough, the ghostly claws connecting with her slim legs as she tried to dance out of the way. Katla grimaced in solidarity, hoping that it was quick enough to escape the Kahuna’s notice.

Facing down the Sableye, Ribombee repeated the same trick again, the brightness coming faster and perhaps more intensely, if you could stand to look at it in the first place.

"Another Dazzling Gleam! It's super effective!” Rotom announced as Sableye hissed loudly, before slowly crumpling to the ground, the light in its jewel eyes dimming. “Sableye has fainted and can no longer battle! That's one victory, two to go!"

The trainer allowed the grin to move over her lips for a moment as Ribombee fluttered back to her. Good start.

Nanu frowned, recalling the Darkness Pokemon with a surge of red energy.

"Turning into a one-trick Mudbray, are we? Let's keep things interesting at the very least," he sighed.

“Depends what your next Pokemon is, Kahuna.” Katla replied, shoving her hands in her hoodie pockets.

If her snark was rankling him, the Kahuna wasn’t showing it, and reached back to pull a fresh ball from his belt, tossing and catching it a few times in his hand.

"All right, Krookodile... you're up!"

As soon as the Intimidation Pokemon emerged, the massive red-and-black bipedal reptilian raised both clawed hands, then tossed its head back with a threatening roar, its innate ability quickly becoming apparent.

The Galar woman’s eyes widened, a genuine smile moving across her face.

"Oh yeah, now we're talking!" She bounced on her heels, thinking fondly of her previous Krookodile partner. He'd taken her far, almost to the very top- She shook her head quickly. Stop that! Focus.

Ribombee fluttered back nervously, unable to resist the other Pokemon's ability. Katla, on the other hand, was not fazed. Nice ability. Shame that it's utterly wasted, she noted, trying not to smirk. "Alright Ribombee, let's bore the Kahuna with something else - use Pollen Puff!"

The Bee Fly shook her head, much the same way her trainer had, and then the rest of its body. Yellow flakes of pollen poured off its wings and body, the Pokemon collecting it all up into a neat little package in its tiny hands. It looked at Krookodile with its normal cute little smile...and then threw the pollen as hard as it could.

Krookodile snapped and snarled in aggravation at the yellow cloud, whipping its head back and forth, both arms flailing as Rotom noted the super effective attack. Nanu waved away the pollen that had headed his way, his expression either grimly determined or rather annoyed.

“Hmph. That little bug of yours can't take much more, I'll bet...” A sudden malevolent smile. “Krookodile! It's Crunch time!" the Kahuna shouted, and the Intimidation Pokemon suddenly surged forward with a speed and agility that was surprising for such a large reptile.

"Ri!" Katla cried out, unable to help herself.

The Ribombee did its valiant best, but already battered by Sableye, it wasn't quick enough to avoid the powerful jaws clamping down around its abdomen with a terrifying sound, the Bug Pokemon crying out in pain.

Kat clenched her fists and teeth together, a snarl curling her lips that she couldn’t suppress.

"Ri!” She yelled. “Another Pollen Puff! Go straight for the eyes!"

The little bee squirmed its way free onto Krookodile's nose, gathering up another collection of pollen from its body, all nicety gone from its face. The bug suddenly hurled itself straight at the Intimidation Pokemon's eyes, only to arc away at the last second, dumping its collection there instead, Krookodile hissing loudly. Ribombee flew back to her trainer, much less gracefully than when they’d begun the bout.

Nanu's crimson eyes flashed, his teeth bared in a grin.

"What's the matter, missy? Can't stand to see your Pokemon take a hit?” He taunted. “You’re too soft - you’ll never complete the Island Challenge if you don’t toughen up!”

Katla knew he was barbing her on purpose, but this one managed to strike home, her nostrils flaring and eyes flashing with pure fury. How the fuck did you think I made it this far, then?! She snarled internally, his nails starting to dig into the palms of her hands.

The older man balled one hand into a fist, extending the other sharply towards the Pokemon.

"Krookodile, there's blood in the water... go for the kill with another--" 

The sudden reverberation of a sonorous bronze bell interrupted the Kahuna, and startled Katla out of her red haze, both of them looking up.

Ula’ula’s deity loomed about fifty feet overhead, the unmistakable smell of loamy earth and undergrowth filling the air, sobering the Galar trainer in seconds. She’d heard of the Tapu (how could she have not), but to see one in the flesh was deeply humbling, all her anger and rage draining out of her in a rush. Dimly, she could hear her other Pokeballs rustle behind her, as if they sensed what was taking place.

“--eh?  Tapu Bulu? What're you...?” Nanu asked, the confusion in his voice as clear as what Katla felt.

The Guardian deity shifted, fixing its stare on the young woman, making the twisted skin on her arms crawl uncomfortably before it dropped something. Krookodile, having been ready for his owner's next command, took several steps back as something small and yellow fell to the ground near Ribombee. She fluttered back for a second, before she recognised the Sitrus berry that had settled beside her - not waiting for a command from anyone, not even her trainer, she quickly landed next to it, greedily devouring it.

It only took a couple of seconds first for the berry to disappear into the diminutive bug’s mouth and then to take effect, but the Bee Fly's colour seemed to brighten, becoming more vibrant and her 'fur' fluffing back up. When she took off once more, her wing-beats were strong and fast, and she gave an excited cry - she was ready for more.

Katla’s heart soared to see her companion rejuvenated, and she looked back up at Tapu Bulu hovering above them, still watching her. She thumped her chest with her fist, bowing her head.

"Thank you, Tapu," she said reverently. "I am honoured by your kindness."

"Buuuuuluu!" the Guardian deity responded, sounding another ring of its bell before taking its leave. 

"What a rare and amazing interruption by the deity of Ula'ula Island itself! The Tapu's favour has been shown, what will happen now?" Rotom inquired, and for a brief moment Nanu shot the Plasma Pokemon a withering glare.

The Tapu's favour? Katla thought, her eyebrow arching slightly. Surely not. Island Trials are performances to please the guardians - I guess I'm just putting up a good enough fight that it wants to see me go a little further. She was under no illusions as to what would be next after Krookodile - every Kahuna had followed the same pattern, even if Nanu had thrown her a curve ball with his.

"Ri?" The bug Pokemon chirped, reminding her trainer that she was waiting for instruction. Katla shook her head quickly.

"Oh. Well, uh, lemme think - Pollen Puff!"

Where exactly Ribombee was getting its pollen now was anyone's guess, but it still managed to gather up enough into its hands for a payload. This time the Bee Fly hesitated, flitting to and fro before lobbing the projectile into Krookodile's side without warning.

Nanu smirked, putting both hands on his hips.

"As a Kahuna I'll be the last one to question a Tapu's decision,” he said, as the red-and-black Intimidation Pokemon cleared the pollen off itself. “As for this keep-away tactic you're utilizing... two can play at that game, and some of us play dirty. Krookodile! Mud Slap!"

With a snarling growl, Krookodile lashed its thick tail in an overhead arc, sending a large, wet ball of mud in Ribombee's direction.

"Ri, get out of there!"

Too late, as the clump of mud struck the bug Pokemon square on, sending her reeling and obscuring her vision.

"Son of a-!" Katla bit out reflexively, just managing to stop the curse from fully passing her lips - no no no we can't lose accuracy, not now! "Come on, Ri, shake it off!"

The Bee Fly scrubbed at its face and body as her trainer fought for a solution. Shit, he's matted down her Pollen and dampened her Gleam. Her brows furrowed. But she still has one other move.

"Bold of you to assume I wouldn't have a back-up plan!” She yelled. “Ribombee, use Absorb!"

The bug Pokemon shook off the last of the mud, before making an almost malevolent humming sound, raising its hands. Two red beams shot from it, connecting with Krookodile, sapping its energy, the Intimidation Pokemon weakening as Ribombee strengthened, almost rendering the prior attack null and void.

"Ribombee's Absorb is super effective!” Rotom announced loudly as Krookodile slumped to the ground. “ Krookodile has fainted, and can no longer battle!  Another victory for Trainer Katla, one more to go!" It almost caused some feedback with its excitement.

The young Galar woman lifted her chin defiantly, eyes flashing like flames were igniting within them.

"You want to dance, Kahuna?” She asked. “Then let's dance."

Nanu let go a dramatic sigh as he reclaimed the fainted red reptile.

"Sorry, I can't dance - two left feet," he retorted, lowering his head for a moment and pulling the final ball from his belt. Katla’s confident demeanour cooled then. Alright, here come the big guns. She took a steeling breath, trying to calm herself down to think a bit more clearly. Damn this guy, he's getting to me like no-one’s business!

"I'm getting tired... time to put this Trial to bed. Persian! Let's go!"

Nanu’s Persian was much larger than the trainer had anticipated, almost on a par with the Totem Pokemon she’d faced. The huge Classy Cat Pokemon swished her tail slowly back and forth, fixing a narrowed gaze onto Katla and Ribombee.

The trainer uttered a low, appreciative whistle.

"Big, beautiful and deadly." She commented, her eyes taking in the feline admiringly, until her eyes reached the teal coloured stone in the Persian's forehead. The same type as in her own, much smaller Alolan Persian. The Alolan Persian who knew- Katla's eyes widened, unable to hide the sudden dawning realization that spread across her face. Oh no. Oh, NO!

It was a similar realization that the Ula’Ula Kahuna had already made, and he and his Persian had taken a similar stance - predatory, hungry for the winning blow. A curious sort of density had grown in the air, ominous and crushing, and both Katla and Ribombee sensed it, the trainer’s cockiness all but fleeing and her heart beginning a quick rhythm in her chest.

The feeling was sickeningly familiar, and she reached down self-consciously to touch her Pokemon for comfort. Her heart leapt into her throat when she was reminded that they were lying a foot away from her, inaccessible, and she had to swallow down the sudden rising panic. It's okay, we're on Alola. Solid earth. Bright sky. No sea. Breathe. Breathe. The Bee Fly glanced back at her trainer briefly, looking worried for her.

"The kid gloves are coming off... we're going straight for the throat," Nanu said, staring Katla down from across the 'battlefield', a bone-chilling edge creeping into that rough voice - if he noticed her internal conflict, there was no evidence of it. "Your passion is admirable, although you have no sense of respect for your elders... you're burning the candle at both ends, and I'm going to snuff it."

Nanu raised a hand. "Persian... POWER GEM!"

Persian let go a high-pitched cry, raising her head as the gem flashed warningly, releasing a sizeable blue bolt of energy in Ribombee's direction.

"Ri! Get out of there, now!" Katla yelled.

She tried, bless the little bug's wings, but a hit was a hit, and it was a super effective one, Ribombee wailing loudly. The trainer cringed as if she'd been dealt the blow instead, teeth clenched tight together. The Bee Fly was still upright, but for how long? Katla decided to risk it, digging into her pocket.

"Ri! Catch!" She tossed a Sitrus berry out to her Pokemon, who gladly devoured it, regaining some energy. Katla chewed her lip, feeling her Z ring weigh heavy on her arm. If he hits her like that twice more, she's a goner. Her brows furrowed. But I do still have one card up my sleeve, if luck actually smiles upon me this time...

"Trying to buy yourself some time?  I'll allow it," Nanu remarked, that predatory gleam still in his crimson eyes. Both hands on his hips, he looked to his Persian.  "Some trainers and Pokemon would sacrifice themselves for the other.  Admirable as that is... it's useless.  Letting emotions control your actions on the battlefield?  Ridiculous!" He added, shrugging one shoulder.  "You take chances, regardless of the outcome, and you play the cards you're dealt - even if that means losing, and starting all over again."

His comments flared Katla’s rage again, despite it all, her jaws clicking from the force behind her clenched teeth. How dare you! You have no idea what I’ve been through! If it wasn’t for my Pokemon, my bones would be scattered across the ocean floor!

She pulled a breath in, closing her eyes and forcing her fists to uncurl - she was both annoyed and ashamed that he was exploiting her weaknesses with such contemptible ease. Katla should have just accepted that she was staring down the barrel of defeat - she’d been out-manoeuvred and out-played, and she should just go through the motions, let the Kahuna have his victory.

And yet...a part of her didn’t want to give the smug bastard the satisfaction. If he wanted his victory, he was going to have to beat it out them.

Persian didn't move a muscle, waiting for her next command from the Kahuna.  Her whiskers twitched eagerly, forehead gem shining in the afternoon sunlight. 

"Persian - another Power Gem!" 

Another raspy cry, another blue bolt of energy streaking across the distance, this one striking considerably harder. Katla didn't cry out for her Pokemon that time, not that Ribombee really needed a reminder to dodge the bolt of awful heading her way. And she looked like she was going to do it, until the Persian turned to track the Bee Fly's movements, blasting the Pokemon onto the ground. Katla's foot jerked as she restrained the urge to run to her friend's aid.

"No! Ri!" She cried, fighting back the sudden burning in her eyes. No no no not now, not now!

"Ri...bombee." The little bug was as stubborn as its owner, pushing itself up and taking flight again, but looking very worse for wear, barely able to hover steadily.

"Alright 'Bee!" Katla smiled weakly, taking a breath and swallowing back the tightness that had started to form in her throat. "Guess I am gonna be taking a chance then. Ribombee! Stun Spore!"

Ribombee's wings whirred, kicking up a cloud of orange spores around them, before with one large wing-beat, she blew them over to the Persian, who hissed as they were blown about her, her tail lashing angrily.

A hit, yes! Katla's lips twitched into a grin as she saw the spores hit home, just about managing to stop herself from fist-pumping. Of course, now they've got to work.

Nanu's sharp black eyebrows furrowed, but if he was concerned, his poker face didn't slip one iota.

"I was almost hoping I wouldn't have to use this," he says, one hand reaching up to grab hold of the Darkinium-Z crystal around his neck. “But you have been quite the nuisance.” A sharp tug, and the leather thong snapped easily, slipping to the ground. That sensation of dread doubled in its intensity, the young trainer’s stomach plummeting into the bottom of her feet. "I didn't get where I am by not taking chances..." Nanu added, snapping the stone into the slot of his Z-ring.

Katla swallowed hard. Oh, fuck.

Ula'ula's Kahuna did a short series of arm movements, before leaning forward at the hips... pausing for a moment, then straightening up and raising both arms in a fearful display, the activated Z-Ring shining brilliantly.

"Now... allow yourself to be enveloped by the Darkness... haaaaaaaah!” Nanu hissed, a swell of purplish energy arcing from his form to Persian's. The feline Pokemon echoed that hiss from her trainer, infused with energy. Katla's hair stood on end, scars itching up her arms, her heart beating so hard she was afraid Nanu could hear it.

"Use... Black Hole Eclipse!" Nanu commanded, before turning his back to Katla and her Ribombee. Persian raised her head, the purple energy flaring brightly around her that seemed to suck the light from around them, plunging them from afternoon to almost night.

"Arceus, Ri, please hold on." Katla spoke, the little bug shrinking back, sharing her trainer's fear. The trainer braced herself, closing her eyes and hoping at least whatever happened was brutally quick.

Suddenly, a strangled yowl of surprise split the air, startling everyone and making Katla’s eyes pop back open.

Persian was still in the position she’d assumed earlier, head and tail high, her body twitched and spasming as she tried to move, the tell-tale yellow flickers flashing over her. She uttered another, almost piteous yowl as she tried to struggle through her condition, but her attempts were futile. She was paralyzed.

As quickly as the shadows drew in, they drew away again, the surroundings brightening up and the dark energy extinguishing like a candle in the breeze.

Nanu was silent, his jaw and fists clenched in utter disbelief. Katla was equally dumbfounded.

"That...That worked?" She breathed. "That worked! Holy shit! Holy-"

She didn't know what suddenly seized her - adrenaline, a bout of madness, maybe something else, but the Galar trainer burst out laughing. Enough that she bent double, hands on her knees, thick curly hair obscuring her face as she tried to get a hold of herself. Even Ribombee turned to look at her, and would have raised an eyebrow had she possessed one.

But she did manage to reign herself back in, laughter fading. Then slowly she rose back up to standing, lifting her head to meet the Kahuna’s gaze. Only this time, she was the one wearing the dark, feral grin.

“My turn.”

She slipped her hand into her pocket, pulling out a Z crystal of her own - light-ish green, almost khaki in colour, the symbol of a beetle visible within.

"How fortuitous of you to sow the seeds of your own downfall, Kahuna.” Katla spoke, turning the crystal over in her fingers. “Guzma might like to hoard his Z crystals away from use, but unfortunately for you, I'm not Guzma." She placed it into her Z ring, goosebumps erupting up her body as it activated. "I'm far worse!"

Katla closed her eyes for a moment, basking for a moment in the power that poured into her body - she'd felt power similar to this before, and she welcomed it like a friend. The energy swirled around Ribombee as well, and even as battered she was, she seemed to get a new lease of life. Katla began her moves, at first mimicking Nanu's, before she dragged her arms up and around like she was a zombie, followed through with a wave motion with her right hand, like a Sharpedo breaching the water's surface.

When Katla spoke again, her voice thrummed like the roar of a swarm’s thousands of wings. "Ribombee, let's rock the Kahuna's world! Savage Spin-Out!"

Surging with power, Ribombee released thick threads of silk from her hands, attaching to Persian and quickly encasing the cat Pokemon entirely within a fibrous cocoon in quick, deft motions. Taking hold of the sole trailing strand, the Bug Pokemon shot up into the air, carrying the cocoon with it, before she began to swing it around its entire body. Once, twice...

On the third swing, Ribombee uttered a loud cry and hurled the cocoon down as hard as possible. In a burst of Z Power induced speed, the Bee Fly shot down after its payload, striking the cocoon just as it impacted the ground, shattering the earth underneath with a load roar.

As the dust cleared, Katla surveyed the damage, her bravado fading as she saw Ribombee fluttering away from the limp cocoon she’d left lying in a shallow crater. That...might have been a bit excessive, she thought to herself, her gazing lifting up to her opponent.

"Katla and Ribombee's Savage Spin-Out has secured a victory!  Trainer Katla has won the Grand Trial!" Rotom called out, only to be shut down mid-hover by Nanu's sharp command, dropping to the ground as a regular phone. The Kahuna watched Persian's unmoving form for a few moments, his expression soon shifting from patient to concerned.

“Persian! Get yourself free, now!” He called, dread starting to sink into the bottom of Katla’s stomach as the seconds ticked by. No movement. “Persian!”

The Kahuna moved faster than the Galar trainer had thought him capable of, and immediately her first thought was to aid him, hand dropping to her belt to remind her that she’d discarded her other Pokemon. She looked back.

“Incine-” She began to call, the name halting in her chest as Katla glanced back to see Nanu had freed his Persian, and was cradling her close, head bowed over her. Guilt - thick, cloying and cold - poured over her shoulders, and it brought shame in its wake. It had all been an act, words specifically to get under her skin, and she’d not only brought them all hook, line and sinker, she’d let her anger get the better of her.

Ribombee fluttered close, looking up at her with concern. She glanced away from the scene, rubbing her hand over the Bee Fly’s head.

“Thank you, Ri.” She whispered. “You did so well, I’m so proud of you. Time to rest now.” She pressed a kiss to the top of her Pokemon’s head, before she returned the bug to her Pokeball. Katla kept her gaze averted, going instead to pick up her remaining Pokemon from where she left him, ignoring the few that quivered at her touch.

“Well congratulations, Katla.” Nanu’s voice sounded out behind her. “You passed my Grand Trial. You’re clear to go to Poni Island.” When she didn’t reply or turn around, he made a short chuffing sound that could have been a laugh. “Hey, it’s fine,” he said, his voice gentler than she’d ever heard it before. “Persian will be fine. She’s gone through Z moves like that before.”

The young woman looked over her shoulder to see him approaching, and despite his usual apathetic expression, he seemed sincere.

“You’re sure? It...seemed a little excessive.” Katla sighed, unable to hold his gaze. “I’m sorry, Kahuna. My temper got the better of me.”

“Certainly did.” And in a second, the gentle veneer was gone. “Excessive is all what Z moves are, I’m sure you’ve noticed by now. You were very lucky - Black Hole Eclipse is as frightening as it sounds. Speaking of which,” Nanu took the Z crystal from his Z ring, holding it out to her. “A Darkinium Z, for your victory.”

Katla blinked.

“Oh, thank you!” She turned it over in her fingers, glimpsing the strange symbol deep inside its dark confines, like the outstretched cloak of, well, darkness. “Considering I was shitting myself at the mere thought of it, I’m gonna take your word on it.”

“That’d be a first.” Nanu commented wryly. “Now pay attention, I’m only going to do this once.”

The movements of the Dark Z move were a lot less scary when done in the light of day, and especially with the Kahuna’s deadpan face, even as he loomed over her in the final pose. “Got it?”

Katla didn’t reply, deciding instead to mimic him. She hunched over, swinging her hands down to the ground with her fingers curled into claws, before she straightened up again, throwing her hands forward and arching her body up as best as she could for a diminutive woman.

“That about right?” She asked. Nanu’s red eyes looked over her, one of his thick eyebrows arching up slightly.

“Not bad for a first go,” he said, pausing for a second. It was difficult to see what he was thinking, but he was certainly mulling something over. “You’re not in any hurry to go back to Melemele, are you?”

“Well, I was only heading back there because I thought I couldn’t get further in the Trials, so I guess not.” Katla said, tilting her head. “Why?”

“Meet me at High Roller Sushi tonight, just after sundown.” Nanu replied, stepping away from her. “My treat.”

Katla just blinked at him, his words taking a moment to parse in her head.

“Oh, okay, yeah!” Heat rose into her face in embarrassment. “Yeah, sure, I’ll be there.”

“Good. Don’t keep me waiting.” Were his last parting words to her, the Kahuna raising a hand before he trudged away, leaving the trainer alone with her thoughts and many more questions.

Katla ran a hand through her thick curly hair, uttering a long sigh through her nose.

Well, alright then.

[littleredroseonthevalley]

Marred

Summary: Riley reflects on the dark happenings of the last New Year’s party, as storms ravage the palace.

Rating: M -  Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16 with non-explicit suggestive adult themes, references to some violence, or coarse language.

Mentions of murder and non-consensual sex. Reader discretion is highly advised.

Words: 1915

Notes: I do not know why I bother to make calls for action, as they are usually ignored, but here we go.

I had a rather... unpleasant experience this New Year’s night, and this is my way of dealing with it. Drop me a line if you want to talk about it, mine or your own.

Furthermore, this is dark. This is horribly dark. Read at your peril.

To mar [mahr]

Transitive Verb

Middle English merren, Old English merran; with Old Saxon merrian, Old High German merren, Old Norse merja, Gothic marzjan.

1.    to damage or spoil to a certain extent; render less perfect, attractive, useful, etc.; impair or spoil;

2.    to disfigure, deface, or scar.

It was late in the day, it was the New Years’ Eve. The night was chilly but it did not snow, in true Cordonian fashion. The celebration, as was tradition, was being held on the Beaumont Residence, and it was just rambunctious as expected.

Maxwell had brought moderately famous Pop singers from Greece and Kosovo to perform exclusively to the guests, and seemed to be running around, chasing the skirt of one of them, if not in his room with her.

Drake was lying, face down, in some couch around the house. He overindulged in alcohol and would not be a part of the countdown that year. Olivia and Hana were in the music room, playing the night away to their hearts’ content.

As for Liam, her husband, he was off with a few noblemen and selected guests, sharing cigars and brandy, discussing the Parliament’s agenda for the coming Spring.

It was rare for them to spend the New Year’s together, Riley conceded. Not only the events on the social season usually got in the way, and they would have January off, so the royals, especially the sovereign, usually dedicated the last days in December to making sure all was up and running while they rested secluded on a castle far away.

Having been systematically abandoned by her closest friends, Riley then spent the last moments before midnight, swaying around in the dance floor, holding a flute of house sparkling wine.

One could argue she had a little too much of it so far, but Bertrand was stingy as ever with invitations, and so it was unlikely anyone with ill intent to have made it inside the manor.

In her haze, she swung one side to the other, giggling as she twirled dizzily through the ample room.

With a lousy dance step, she tumbles with him.

The glass on the window was shaking with the heavy rain pouring from the milky black sky and wind hitting against it. The trees outside lost quite a few branches for the unforgivable weather that evening, and she feared electricity would be cut off that night.

She had a couple of candlesticks and some matches stored on her bedside table drawer, should she need some light in an emergency. She dreaded the use of them, as she was very afraid of damaging the finely engraved wooden surfaces of her bedroom furniture.

It was very late, but she did not seem to be able to sleep. Perhaps she would not rest, either way, due to her loneliness and the weather, after tonight, it would not surprise her if she were to acquire a distinct distaste for storms.

She tried to read, but the story, for once, could not hold on to her attention for very long, neither could television or music. Her mind was away and adrift, a single thought circled her head again and again.

It has been such for weeks, but tonight… Tonight, it was worse.

The nobleman helped Riley to steady herself, placing both of his hands underneath her upper arms, allowing her to lean into them, so she could stand up straight.

“Whoa, Your Majesty,” He says, an amused smirk on his face. “I cannot say I dislike the attention, but you could just come out and say it.”

The monarch-consort laughs the awkwardness off. “Oh, milord, you know how it is, two flutes of champagne and you forget yourself. Thank you, though, for your assistance.”

“It is my own pleasure, Your Majesty. A service to the sovereign is on public interest, after all.” He responded, shooting her an easy smile.

“I do not suppose they have in mind helping a poor woman who overindulged when they say such things.” The Queen tattled in amusement. “Tell me, milord, are you enjoying tonight’s celebrations?”

“I find them most agreeable, Your Majesty. The Beaumonts have a knack for entertaining.” The man responds, soft.

“That it is, milord.” She agrees. “I have always felt as if they were my own family, and, as such, as if their parties were my own parties. A little forward of me, I usually consider, as I lack that… green thumb, if you must, of theirs.”

He chuckles. “I recall quite a few soirées at the palace that were equally, if not more, enjoyable than tonight.”

“Be certain it was Maxwell the one you owe your praises. I hardly ever get involved with any of the planning.” She said, humorously. “I did not think I would find any noblemen around this time of evening, though. Tell me, milord, would you not prefer to be in audience with the King? My husband is hearing complaints in the parlour, and I daresay he is in a giving mood tonight.”

“I have most that I want.” It was his response. “And what I do not, I should find ways to acquire.”

“It seems conscientious of you, milord.” She conceded. “If I am to take the hordes one surely would find in the parlour right about now, I am to infer you are a minority amongst your peers.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty, but I do not suppose conscience has anything to do with it. I merely find more pleasure in the struggle.” He dismisses the compliment offhandedly.

“In America, we tend to celebrate those who achieve by their own merits, rather than by birth or favour, but I suppose you are entitled to your own assessment, unflattering as it is.” She points out.

“That I am, Your Majesty, that I am.” He smirks, haughtily.

As he finishes his statement, the clock strikes 11:59.

The guests still lingering around the dining room start cheering the countdown to the new year, while the nobleman leads the woman to a quieter corner of the room, at a mezzanine overlooking the ballroom.

As the seconds go by and they come closer to the new year, so the body of the nobleman close the distance between him and the monarch.

The hairs on the back of her head shiver in alarm, and her arm is covered in goose bumps. She tries to get away from him, but his hand holds her wrist firmly in place.

As the fireworks go out on the lawn, as the night-time sky is coloured with the overt glow, the nobleman tugs her arm and forces her to kiss him.

It was always eerie to her, the dissonance between the hustle-bustle of the palace during the day and the dead silence of the night.

Liam always found it relaxing, the poor man, so deeply traumatized from a tumultuous childhood, could not even nap if not in absolute quietness. Riley, however, used to a life in the metropolis, slept better when in hearing distance of the white noise of motors in a busy avenue.

Her husband more than once offered her the use of a white noise machine, and she has resisted. The King’s restful sleep was more important than the Queen’s, after all, and so their conjoined bedroom was to be tailored to his preferences to perfection.

After more than a few sleepless nights on her part, he brought the white noise machine once again, alongside a change in mattresses and cable television extensions for the room, but she once again refused. It was not going to lull her to any sleep, either way.

Tonight… tonight, the cause for her insomnia was very different and specific. Her shoulders were slumped and aching from the tension she was under, her ears rung painfully, her head was about to explode.

Her ears perk at the sound of heavy footsteps on the staircase near the bedroom, she takes it as a good sign. None of the servants would walk so noisily, not that any would be up at this time anyways.

Perhaps, when all it is said and done, she ought to get a decent night’s sleep.

When he was done with her, he adjusted his trousers, facing away from her and towards the ballroom beneath them. For a split second, his softening, slick member was for all to see, but no-one did.

Not a single person raised their sights towards the mezzanine that night.

“I believe that we are done here.” He turns back to her and raises her face to a small peck on her lips, one she had no strength to fight against.

“Why did you do it?” She asks, weakly.

He chuckles and faces the stairway down. “I thought I told you, I like the struggle to get what I want.”

“You know you won’t get away with that.” She threatened.

“I think I just did.” Without looking back, the blue-blood said, “Thanks for the evening, Your Majesty. It has been great.”

Liam sits down on an armchair opposite to his wife, taking off his shoes, stained in hues of brown and red.

“The maid will burn these in the morning.” The woman says, taking the pair away, to the side of the fireplace.

“Thank you.” He said, rather absent. A moment of silence follows, before he breaks with a, “I did it. I did it myself.”

“I thought you would.” Was the response. “Do you regret it?”

“No.” He countered, almost instantaneously. “I hated that man for what he did with you. I will never forgive him, and I will never think he did not deserve it.”

Riley hummed her understanding, and busied herself on preparing the bed for the night.

“Unless…” He says, slow and dour, profoundly dreading the scenario he built on his head. She stops what she was doing and looks deep into his eyes, as he starts again to speak, “Unless you see me differently for what I did.”

She sighed. “There is nothing anyone can do that will erase what happened. If you did it for me, then you wasted your efforts.”

“I understand.” It was his answer. He knew the truth, that he did it to appease his own anger and frustration, most of it towards himself, but he would have preferred to kid himself a little longer to the cold tell-off.

However, looking at her swelling stomach, he had to concede she was on a difficult position, to say the absolute least.

How could he phrase it not to feel an absolute understatement?

“I still love you, though. I will always love you. It’s just that…” She breathed out and nothing she planned to say made any sense, communicated any of the things she wanted to say.

I was worried about you. I am worried about you. I want to be free of it. I want you to be free of me.

“Let’s just sleep.” She said, instead. “It all should look better in the morning.”

They lay down in bed side by side, Liam making every effort not to touch his wife, as she finds it rather disturbing for the time being.

Riley could not help to let a few tears spill from her eyes, as it usually happens that time of night. She had acquired the rather nasty habit of crying herself to sleep. The morning would bring no good, as no other day since then has never did, nor ever will.

For, from now until forever, she was marred.

Taglist: @boneandfur; @cora-nova; @mfackenthal; @theroyalweisme; @zilch3

[honestsycrets]

Red Little Shoes III

Masterlist

Warnings

Smut

Dub!Con

Gif credits: bonniebirdsgifcentre

A few days later, your phone was trilling along the hard wood of your desk. It prattles against the desktop, reverberating and though you hadn’t flipped it over, you knew who it would be. Ivar wouldn’t be off until at least six in the evening which meant this was…

Sigurd Lothbrok.

You glared at the photo of him in the cutest of floral crowns, budding with white and gold flowers. Christ you thought, you weren’t sure why you hadn’t done like other women. Put a sassy, bitchy name on his contact or even delete the number that was burned into your brain.

Zzz, zzz…

The first call hung up. Less than ten minutes later, another began to trill. At least once a day, he began to bother you since your final recital. You didn’t blame Ivar. He faced pressure from all sides to supply Sigurd with him with a way back into his wife’s life. After all, the white stack of divorce papers sat there on your desk. They were still crisp as they were the first day you filled them out. But they were married to the white wood of your desk.

Zzz… zzz… zzz… You were so going to regret this.

“Hello?” You pluck up your phone, bringing the cherry red case to your ear.

“Can I come over?” His voice-- shuddering.

“You don’t even know where I live. We should keep it that way.” You mumble, finding he would grunt.

“Considering you’re having a baby with Ivar, it might be important.” He remarks. A side sweep of his tongue leaves you without words. He must have overheard. You release another long sigh with a nod of your head. Fine, you had said. You gave him the directions to your new rental home and when the knock of the door came, you found yourself cursing yourself for letting him know where you lived. You open the door and stand aside, forcing yourself to ignore his adorable crazy mop of hair that was cropped short to the side of his face. Before with his braids-- you had threatened him with a straightener. Even now, he just had the wild boy hair.  

“How did you find out?” You say as you close the door.

“I overheard.” He explains, dropping his briefcase of sheet music and other knick knacks on your posh wooden floor. “What are you thinking? There are millions of men out there. Ivar? He is crazy.”

You heard this song and dance before. You had been crazy this time, however, because you had taken his sperm.

“It has nothing to do with you anymore, Sigurd. I trust Ivar.” You lean against the cream coloured walls of your home, glaring at the persistent click of a silvery clock.

“He could never be a good father.” Sigurd snaps. All too suddenly, you snap too.

“Ivar actually wants to be a father. He is giving me a baby without conditions. I’ll allow him around. What did you ever have to offer me but lies?” You turn your hands up, leaning out towards him when Sigurd groans. Of course, he couldn’t escape this.

“That was not all of our relationship.” Sigurd’s arms fold one over another.

Maybe so. Maybe one of those very pictures of the day he proposed still sat on your coffee table, unable to tuck it away. Maybe you kept a summer solstice photo in your wallet as well, when he took you to celebrate with others who shared your common belief. But those days were done. It was easy to latch onto those things because they were without hard feelings.

“Who would you have give me children, Sigurd?” You supply, pushing off the wall. You pass through your foyer and through the living room to your kitchen. You would hold the island’s granite countertop as you look for wine.

“Someone that isn’t psychotic.” He supplies as you pour him a glass and hand it to him. “They have sperm banks.”

“A designer baby?” You laugh, bringing your own glass to your plump lips. “Ivar has everything I want. Beautiful blue eyes and a killer smile.”

Sigurd stands quiet, throwing his drink back down his throat quicker than he intended. You lean over the island in one of those cute white spaggheti strap tops-- but he quickly notices your bra is sunshine yellow today, distracting him somewhat off his rage.

“Eyes up here, snake eyes.” You snap at him.

Sigurd stops. “You look beautiful.” He murmurs.

“So now you’re here for sex, Sigurd?” You grumble, much more grouchily than your usual, he makes a note of. That makes you stop at least, shaking your head as you set down your drink with a sharp crack.

“It’s the ovulation inducers they had me on before they injected me. I feel like shit, I’m bloated and my tits hurt.” You grumble about a headache-- but he’s stopped listening. He knows Ivar’s seed is swimming in your uterus, but he doesn’t care.

“You haven’t had sex in a while, have you?” He remarks.

“Why?” You say with your hands finding your hips.

“It is like when you’re hungry-- you get to be a bitch.” He teases as gently as he can and despite your growl at him not to call you that, you know he’s right. You’ve been aching to go out and have sex. But the whole act of having to dress up, drink, find a man, seduce the man and not even know if he would be a good fuck?

Exhausting.

“Shut up Sigurd…” You mumble, pushing your drink away. Slowly, Sigurd treds around the table as if to innocently approach you. You know better, but you can’t convince yourself to move when his arms encircle your waist. You’ve felt disgusting for months and as his jeans scratch against a black little skirt from your long day out, you can’t deny the urge to lean back against him. His cock has swelled to life under those pesky slender jeans.

“I don’t think you really want me to. Aren’t you lonely?” Sigurd suggests in your ear. Sure, you could call Ivar and ask him to fuck you into your mattress. But you hadn’t-- and Sigurd thinks there is a reason for that when his hands cup your hips, grinding his cock against the shortness of your dress. You lean forward over the island, trying just so hard to will away the excitement that moistens your cunt. Sigurd melds his body over your back, muscles melding against yours. You shudder-- knowing that his mop of blonde hair is what is tickling your nape.

“I know you are.” He whispers, beginning yo pull away altogether when your hand shoots out to his wrist, yanking him back.

“Just once.” You murmur in a low whisper, as if Ivar could hear you. “Do you have a condom?”

“Of course I have a condom.” Sigurd leans back, unbuckling his pants and sliding his wallet out from his back pocket. There’s a shuffling of plastic behind you before Sigurd’s tip is pushing in, filling your wet walls full of his cock. The condom feels as bizarre as it usually does deep within you, but the affectionate kissing against your neck rivals the pleasure from his fingers sliding between your legs to rub along your lips as he presses himself in completely.

“Did you miss it?” He husks out in your ear, withdrawing his hips agonizingly slow. He would thrust back in forcefully, a sole thrust filling you up completely. It had only been a year, but it felt so long since he had stretched your walls on his cock and filled you whole like this. With no answer, Sigurd’s rocking hips still.

“Tell me or I’ll take it from you.” Sigurd hisses in your ears, beginning to pull out when you grasp his slender hand massaging your outer lips.

“Please don’t.” You say with cheeks hot in embarrassment. “Of course… I… I want it.” You murmur, gasping when he chuckles, driving himself in with a stutter of his hips.

“Then beg for it like you mean it!” Sigurd teases you with an achingly slow drive forward and back, enough to tease you into the true pleasure he could give you. Like no other man could, not even Ivar, you were sure. If he could, it would be his fat cock you would be bouncing on.

“Please, fuck me Sigurd!” You shriek with a swallow of the pride that said-- fuck Sigurd Lothbrok. Fuck him because you didn’t need him. But you did, fuck you needed him to pound you into a mess against this island and leave you used. “Please, please Sigurd please!”

Not sparing another second of those achingly slow thrusts, Sigurd forced himself deep within your body, ramming thrust after thrust in just the right way. Your body felt hot with embarassment, knowing that just a few hours ago you were injected with Ivar’s spunk, and here you were, gripping and milking Sigurd’s cock. You couldn’t tell Ivar. You could only imagine how he might throw his hands up in irritation and--

“You don’t think of anyone else.” Sigurd shoved your neck forward to the granite tabletop. Your cheek would rub rawly against the granite. His hand shifted around to your front, finding your clit like a map that was cemented in his memory. He curled his fingers against it how he knew you liked and in seconds, you were a moaning mess. Your body ached to take more of his thrusts, but there was only so much you could take.

“Mmmm, Sigurd!” Thoughts whizzing, cunt pulsing Sigurd found your weakness when he gasped out your name in return into your ear in husky puffs. Sigurd’s eyebrows forced together when he felt it. Your velvety walls contracting around him as if they were tugging him off in completion. He knows that you’ve hit that peak-- if not from that, your wonderful screams that finish him off completely. His hips buckle, seed spilling into the condom that gripped him so tightly. Sigurd pants above you, forcing air into his lungs as he slows down a few remaining thrusts then pulls out altogether. Liquid remorse spills through you as you catch your breath feeling almost dirty-- sticky. Almost as if something was seeping out. Impossible, because Sigurd wouldn’t and you’ve never had a man do that to you anyway. He didn’t want babies.. The only other explanation was how much lube he must have used.

“Too much lube or… maybe its me, Sigurd. I’m going to go shower, you can text me.” You murmur while he tucks himself away, the condom disposed in the trash. He walks back to the foyer, picking up his bag. You hold the door open for him this time, and as he gives you a kiss to the cheek, you notice a trace smile beaming on his lips.

Of course, you chalk it up to being laid… but Sigurd knows far better than that.

@igetcarriedawaywithyou, @kylobien, @titty-teetee, @breathlessouls, @nejijjeoroo, @bcat1291, @readsalot73, @mslothbrok (no mix), @romanchronicles, @ateliefloresdaprimavera, @ailucascen, @michaeliskindahot, @concretewaywardangel, @naaladareia, @cbouvier23, @the-geeky-engineer, @dorned, @lisinfleur, @funmadnessandbadassvikings, @tephi101, @akamaiden, @kirah34, @ethereallysimple, @venusloviing, @happylittlepuppydog, @beyond-the-ashes, @slutforrpg, @hipsternoionlylikeunicorns  @float-autumn-leave, @huntingbears, @lisinfleur, @AzmentineDaWinters, @looneytunes20033,  @jtrstp, @rabeccablake,

[adaptnetwork]

This post brought to you by Leatherman. The content and opinions expressed below are that of ADAPT Network.

A travel-friendly wearable multi-tool—that’s the Leatherman Tread in a nutshell. When I was first introduced to the device, I was fascinated by the concept and eager to take it for a test-drive. Will the Tread become another forgotten gadget, or does it have the versatility to be used, as Leatherman puts it, ‘Anytime, Anywhere’?

What is it?

The Leatherman Tread is designed to be a multi-tool that you can take, by wearing it, everywhere you go. That includes on flights—that’s right, the Tread is TSA-friendly!

For Leatherman President and Tread creator, Ben Rivera, the inspiration behind this unique multi-tool originated on a trip to Disneyland with his family. He was stopped by security for carrying a regular multi-tool and had to take it back to his hotel room before being allowed into the park.

Rivera recounts that:

I was stopped at the gate by security for carrying what they thought was a knife, when what they had actually seen was my Leatherman Skeletool. I was unwilling to give it up, so they made me take it all the way back to my hotel room. I knew there had to be another way to carry my tools with me that would be accepted by security.

Taking this experience back to the Leatherman team, Rivera set about designing a bracelet that would carry much of the usefulness of a multi-tool, in a friendlier form. The Leatherman Tread was born.

The Tread packs 29 different tools into its nine links and clasp. These include a pick/sim card tool, a cutting hook, hex (allen) drivers, box wrenches, flat-head and philips screwdrivers, a carbide glass breaker, and a bottle opener (in the clasp). The bracelet also squeezes in a square driver, an oxygen tank wrench and a socket adapter (which forms part of the clasp mechanism and allows the Tread to be used with a socket set).

That’s very impressive, given that this all fits on your wrist. If that’s not enough, you can now add to this tool list with extra links from Leatherman. At the moment, these include more specialised tools like torx drivers, but further links may be added in the future.

First impressions

At first glance, you wouldn’t think that the Leatherman Tread packs so many tools into its design. It looks just like a high quality stainless steel bracelet. High quality is the optimum word here—Leatherman has employed an expensive injection-moulded process to make each individual link from 17-4 stainless steel. The tool feels very tactile, substantial and strong, and each tool-bit looks precision crafted. It needs to stand up to a lot of abuse and high-torque forces, so Leatherman have included their 25-year guarantee. Within that time, they’ll repair or replace it if it breaks.

The Tread comes in two colours, standard stainless steel and anodised black. Both look sleek and stylish and it really comes down to personal preference.

The Tread comes in two colours, standard stainless steel and anodised black. Both look sleek and stylish and it really comes down to personal preference. It’s worth noting that after extended use the black paint will start wearing off of the black version. This will give it a contemporary worn look, which may or may not be your preferred style.

After exploring all of the links, I realised just how much thought has gone into the Tread’s design. Each link has a slight curvature, to improve the comfort and fit of the bracelet. The tool bits are also set at an angle, to their links, to continue this contour. Leatherman have thought carefully about the usability of the multi-tool, as well—the largest box and oxygen tank wrench links have strengthened sides to increase their torsional stiffness.

A nice little detail: the bottle opener icon.

I also really like the moulded engravings, on the underside of each link. These annotate what each tool is, for easier tool selection.

The Leatherman Tread also works perfectly as a watch strap. Combine this with a second complete bracelet for a complete toolkit on the go.

Out of the box, the bracelet is too big for most people’s wrists. Removing links, to fit, is an easy process. Most links are ½”, but the Tread features one ¼” link to allow for further fit refinement. Simply unscrew the pins with a screwdriver, or a coin, and you’re good to go. The hard part is deciding which tools to remove. With a bit of ingenuity, though, you can find ways of carrying these extra links. The small form-factor of each link means that they easily fit in a wallet or attach to a belt. If you purchase extra links, you could even form a second bracelet or a watch strap and wear a complete toolkit—very useful when travelling or going on a micro adventure. The ability to swap the positions of each tool, is also a nice feature—some people may like to order their tools by size or frequency of use, for example.

After removing two ½” links, the Tread fitted nicely. There is also a ¼” link for greater fit refinement.

Mike, from our gear section, joined me for the test. Whilst we had slightly different wrist sizes we both found that removing two ½” links gave the best fit. The clasp works in the same way as many watches, so putting on the Tread is a breeze.  Due to its very secure clasp, removing the bracelet is a little trickier. However, I found that there was a knack to it. After wearing the Tread for a while, I quickly forgot it was there—it felt just as comfortable as a good watch. However, it’s worth noting that the links can catch on arm hair when putting on and taking off the bracelet (potentially not an issue for women).

After wearing the Tread for a few days, it became apparent that this unique multi-tool attracts a lot of attention and is an excellent talking point. Friends have been asking me about the gadget and want to try it out for themselves.

Using the multi-tool

Due to its unique design, using the Leatherman Tread is a bit different to using a standard multi-tool. Instead of pulling out an individual tool piece from a ‘solid’ tool handle, you remove the bracelet and use it as a ‘flexible’ tool handle. This actually increases the versatility of the tool. We found that holding the tool to create a ‘right-angle’ or ‘T-bar’ handle enabled greater torque to be applied on those stubborn screws and bolts.

Day to Day Tasks

The more you wear and use the Tread, the more useful you find it. Firstly, having the tool on me at all times means that I don’t have to go rummaging for my allen key or screwdriver set whenever I need a quick fix around the house or office. Simple adjustments to the radiator or my electric guitar, for example, have previously meant that I had to go into the garage to grab my bike tool.

The cutting tool, capable of cutting through paracord, is also super useful around the house and office. We get lots of letters and packages at ADAPT and the Tread’s cutting tool is perfect for opening envelopes and cutting through parcel tape with ease.

Heavy Duty Tasks

Let’s be fair, the Leatherman Tread is not designed to replace your main toolkit. It was created as a travel-friendly multi-tool to be used on the fly. However, we wanted to test the limits of each tool piece and so put the Tread through its paces with some tougher tasks.

We found that the Tread handles general screwdriver and hex (allen) driver tasks with ease. A selection of hex, flat-head, and philips screwdrivers (with the option of purchasing extra torx links) is enough for most scenarios. However, due to the shallow depth of the tool bits, the Tread cannot reach screws that sit much deeper than flush. Additionally, there are no small precision screwdrivers included, for those sunglasses and laptop screws.

The high build quality is clear—after extended use, the drivers still show no signs of rounding off. The ability to manipulate the handle into different positions is also useful, and enables higher torque to be applied, for stubborn screws and bolts. Impressively, the bracelets’ strong links means that it can handle these high forces.

The ability to remove links, means that you can use a hex or screwdriver link along with a box wrench link, together, to undo and fasten bolts without requiring an additional tool.

The box wrenches are an excellent use of space, sitting within each link. We found that they can be used effectively in most situations that require a wrench/spanner. However, there are some tight spots that the rectangular link won’t fit into and a more specialised tool would be needed.

The ability to remove links, means that you can use a hex or screwdriver link along with a box wrench link, together, to undo and fasten bolts without requiring an additional tool. This is a clear advantage over a traditional multi-tool, where tools pieces are not detachable from the main body. While removing links, in this way, takes a little time—it only requires a coin and would be a real ‘life-saver’ if you didn’t have any other tools with you when travelling or camping.

Outdoor Activities and Adventure

The Leatherman Tread is an ideal companion for outdoor pursuits and activities. Wearing the multi-tool means that it doesn’t get in the way of your activity or sport.

The carbide glass breaker is also a nice addition. While I hope I will never have to use it, I know that I can use the Tread to smash safety glass, if required on an adventure.

Again, the Tread was able to handle most tasks with ease—from securing a camera tripod adapter to adjusting the height of my mountain bike’s front derailleur.

I was able to use the Tread in conjunction with my skate tool, to make the task easier—so it was still useful to have on me.

However, it did have trouble fitting into small spaces and doesn’t come with all the tools I needed for some tasks. When working on my longboard, for example, the Tread’s rectangular links wouldn’t reach the truck bolts and the largest box wrench was too small for the kingpin. To be fair, though, this is a particularly tricky task that most wrenches/spanners would struggle with, and therefore requires a specialised skate tool. In the end, I was actually able to use the Tread in conjunction with my skate tool, to make the task easier—so it was still useful to have on me.

I was even able to use the Tread to attach the fins to my surfboard.

Since the Tread is made from stainless steel, it won’t rust—so the multi-tool can be used in the water, for sports such as surfing and diving. Surprisingly, I was even able to use the Tread to attach the fins to my surfboard. The width of the bracelet means that you can’t screw the fin lock-screws in one continuous motion, but it does the job. I’ve actually had to ask a fellow surfer for a fin key, when I forgot mine at the beach. Now, as long as I have my Tread with me, I know I will always have a backup.

Pros:

Excellent build quality: The strong, hard steel is a great choice—giving you tools that will withstand abuse and high torsional force.

Stylish, wearable form: The Tread looks great and is the perfect talking point among friends. It’s comfortable to wear and doesn’t get in the way of outdoor and sports activities. It’s always with you when you need it.

Well thought out tool set: Every inch of the Tread is useful and packs a good selection of tools. The ability to purchase more specialised links is an added bonus.

Surprisingly versatile: Whilst it does have its limits, the multi-tool can be used for many tasks. The ‘flexible’ handle means that you can adjust your grip depending on the task.

Travel-friendly: The Tread multi-tool is TSA-friendly and, therefore, you can literally take it wherever you go.

The ability to remove links with a coin easily: The ability to use a hex or screwdriver link along with a box wrench link means that you can undo and fasten bolts without requiring an additional tool. If you didn’t have any other tools with you, when travelling or camping, this would prove extremely valuable.

Cons:

Having to give up tools to make the bracelet fit: Having to lose tools when removing links, for fit, is not great. However, with a bit of ingenuity, you can find ways of carrying these extra links.

Doesn’t fit hard to reach places: You may need to resort to a specialised tool for some hard to reach screws and bolts. To be fair, the Tread is not designed for this.

It’s not a traditional multi-tool: Leatherman’s traditional multi-tools may be more effective with hard to reach screws and bolts, and with some heavier-duty tasks. Additional tools, like a knife, pliers and scissors are just useful things to have. Of course, traditional multi-tools are not as travel-friendly.

Overall

Overall the Leatherman Tread is a surprisingly capable and versatile multi-tool that can be adapted to suit your requirements. It’s a completely unique wearable device, that’s extremely well built and looks great.

While it can’t replace your main toolkit, and you will find it hard to use in some situations, the Tread provides a function that nothing else can. The fact that the Tread is TSA-friendly is reason enough to check out this multi-tool bracelet. You can be sure to find plenty of usefulness out of its stylish design and to get plenty of attention from friends, wanting to try it out for themselves.

The Leatherman Tread is definitely a tool I will be wearing during my day-to-day, ready to use ‘Anytime, Anywhere’!

Review: A hands-on look at the Leatherman Tread wearable multi-tool This post brought to you by Leatherman. The content and opinions expressed below are that of ADAPT Network.