#one significantly more rowdy than the other

[plutoswritingplanet]

Hand That Feeds (Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Female!Reader)

a/n: as promised, here's the full chapter. as a person who's only played skyrim and oblivion, writing for fallout is like throwing a hot dog into an empty corridor (i will not elaborate)

Warnings: Suggestive Themes, Attempted Kidnapping, Medical Malpractice, Cooper is a mean old man with a boner. Takes place before the events of the TV series.

Summary: The Ghoul takes up a bounty that has been gathering dust for quite some time. You, bored out of your mind, decide getting kidnapped might be the perfect way to entertain yourself. Both of you bite off more than you can chew. Cross-Posted on AO3

PT. 2

Copper knows this job will be different, before he even decides to take it up. 

Scribbled with flaky charcoal, your face looks at him from the notice board every time he delivers a bounty. For months now, a humble title of "The Healer" hangs without change, between criminals, raiders, and people who were in the wrong place, at the wrong time. 

Cooper hasn't considered going for you, it was never his first choice. The bounty on your head was moderately low, in comparison to your notice board neighbors.  He had other priorities, bigger than a smeared over pretty face, for half his usual reward.

Until one day, as he stomped his way through the dusty floor, his eyes caught onto your wanted poster yet again. 

Well, to be frank, his eyes strayed towards your portrait almost every time he crossed the threshold, but he would never admit it to anyone, let alone himself. Like a constant companion, overlooking all his accomplishments since he decided to stick around the place, your empty gaze followed every transaction, every head delivered onto the table. Some semblance of a routine, he supposed, looking over the board. 

 There, under the regular information, freshly painted numbers stared back at him. A new bounty, significantly bigger than any reward on the board. The red paint was still dripping down the yellowed paper, the addition must've been made quite recently. 

A hefty price. One, that would supply him with enough chems to last for half a year at least. Tempting. Especially now, that he's down to only a couple of vials, his coughing fits becoming longer and closer between. So tempting, in fact, that he tears your wanted poster from the board, finally getting a closer look, a deliberate one. 

Booker gives him a raised eyebrow, all the commentary needed, encapsulated in this simple gesture, and Cooper shoots him a nasty look. There aren't many requirements regarding the job, except one, annoying detail. 

You have to be alive and in good condition. 

Now, alive Cooper could do. Alive is easy. Good condition, however, opened a whole shitbag of problems, which he would be a fool to overlook. Still, the prospect of such money couldn't be ignored. And, he'd be damned to admit it, but he was curious. Who were you? Why haven't you been caught for such a long time? What caused this sudden raise in bounty?

- Did you piss someone off that bad, little lady? - he asks the yellowed paper, and gets no answer, as expected. 

***

The bar is filled with patrons, all tripping over themselves to loose as many caps on cheap alcohol and chems from under the table. It's not as rowdy, as one would expect. This settlement must be one of the few more civilized ones, for the Wasteland's standards at least. Farmers, mechanics, shopkeepers, they all clam together, smelling of smoke, sweat, and alcohol. 

You're here too, hunched over your drink with a sour expression. Your shoulders are slumped, covered by a piece of cloth, that used to be a shawl, but currently looks more like a rag used to wipe down countertops. Despite that, Cooper sees in the way your body is poised, taunt and graceful, that you're neither a naive Vault Dweller, nor a scruffy raider. A skinny scarf is tied around your neck in a fashion, that reminds Cooper of the old westerns he used to star in. 

The sudden influx of memories is neither wanted, nor useful, and he clicks his teeth in annoyance at his own betraying mind.

The Healer, he thinks to himself, making his way through the crowds, until he reaches the side of the bar, one seat from you. Not a glance is spared in his direction. The townsfolk must be used to seeing Ghouls run around the place. Still, when he orders a glass of moonshine, out of the corner of his eye, he can see you peaking at him with curiosity. There's a intelligent glint in your eye, and Cooper feels a shiver of curiosity climbing up his back. He scolds himself for being too old imediately after.��

By all that's holy, you look tired. And not the kind of tired, that sticks to a person living in the Wastelands, no. It's the exhaustion of a shitty day, dragging your eyelids down to flutter against creeping up sleep. The alcohol can't be helping your state, however, it will most definitely help Cooper. He almost feels sorry for you, but if your dumb enough to leave yourself in the open like that, while being hunted, there's nothing more he can do but take advantage. 

Cooper turns his face ever so slightly towards you, looking over your expression for any signs of recognition. He sees none, more than that, there is no emotion at all, not even a blink at his fucked up face. Raising his hand, he touches the rim of his hat in a wordless greeting. 

That finally wrenches some resemblance of a reaction out of you, and with a blink, you tip your glass towards him, before downing its contents. Your cheeks are flushed, lips wet with remnants of moonshine and there's a lock of hair falling out of place, and damn it, Cooper suddenly feels so old.

Ordering drinks while in your current state wasn't the most intelligent thing you could've done. The harsh taste of alcohol burned your throat in a way that was less than pleasant, and for a moment you consider turning to some good old chems for help with... Well everything really. 

It started with Old Lady Sal. 

You've replaced her hip a while back with some scrap metal and a fuckload of reused body parts. Now, every other day she demands you check it out, make sure it's in working order. Which it always is. This isn't your first replaced hip, you know what you're doing.

Then, you had to sit through the insanely uncomfortable marriage offer from Old Lady Sal's grandson, who is not only dumb as a bag of rocks, but also fourteen. 

And to top it all off, suddenly everyone needs you to solve their particular pains of the day. There must be an epidemic of aching heads sweeping through the town, because as soon, as you flee from Old Lady Sal's home, you're being hounded by everyone and their mother, looking to you for help. You were in town for two hours, and your herbs reserve went down to one fucking leaf. 

The Ghoul keeps looking at you from under his hat, and at this point it's gotten from uncomfortable, to straight up creepy. You were not about to pretend this stranger's interest in your particular person didn't unnerve you. Although, thanks to your mother's efforts, and later your own, the town practically worshipped the ground you walked on, the same could not be said about the rest of the Wasteland. 

You had enemies. You had people, who would love to get their hands on you. You were also deeply aware of the bounty placed on your person. Last you checked, it was quite small, but Ghouls don't have it easy out there, and if there's anyone looking like a bounty hunter in this fine establishment, it's the shady guy giving you a shameless once-over. 

So, you place a couple of caps on the counter, and gather yourself best you can. 

Perhaps drinking on an empty stomach was not the best idea, because as soon as you slide off the barstool, your head does a flip. Your balance completely off, you trip over your own feet, already accepting the floor, as your soon-to-be companion. 

That's when something strangely warm wraps itself around your waist, hoisting you up against the counter. The Ghoul smells just about as pleasant as one would expect, but moonshine is a powerful sedative, and instinctually, you lean into the warm embrace. Eyelids flutter, as you look up into the sunken eyes of your savior, and you can see his throat move, as he swallows thickly. 

- Careful now, sweetheart - the voice is low and reminds you of wind whistling through leaves - Gotta keep you in good condition.

Now, if you were completely sober, or at least less drunk, those words would fire an orchestra of alarm bells in your head. Instead, you smile, teeth on full display, as you reach up, to undo a tattered scarf from around your neck. 

- Mmm - you sigh, throwing the piece of cloth across the Ghoul's shoulders - My hero. 

Then, you grab onto his arm, still holding a tight grip around your waist, and lift it up by the sleeve of his coat. Despite your drunken disposition, you duck under the limb gracefully, and shoot the Ghoul a nasty, fully aware smirk. Realization flickers across his face, but before he can move to catch you, a series of body-wrecking coughs shakes his entire frame. 

You hesitate just for a second. The instinct to help is ingrained into your very being, passed down like a mantle from your angel of a mother. But then, self-preservation kicks in, and as the strager reaches into the pocket of his coat, to find his inhaler, you're already out the door, throwing yourself into a mad dash towards your cabin.

You were drunk, not stupid. 

***

The sun has barely had time to rise, when you're rudely awoken by the sound of a fist, pounding desperately on your front door. Hard enough to make the hinges squeak and shake. 

It tears you from your already light sleep, and you scramble to your feet, hastily pulling a shirt over your head, as you make your way towards the entrance. Hand on your pistol, you look out through the small space between two planks, which make up your door. 

It's not hard to understand what is happening. You remember one of the men standing outside your door from the nearby town. Benny or something like that, you were never good at remembering names. Hanging on his arm was another, barely breathing man, who was currently bleeding out right onto your porch. Pete. This one you recognize as a farmer and a hunter. You've treated multiple bites and scratches on him. So did your mother. 

Cursing under your breath, you undid all the makeshift locks with record speed, throwing the door open.

- I'm sorry to bother your so early in the morning Healer - you wince at the title, already making a beeline for the table in your kitchen - Pete and I were just...

Both men follow you closely behind, Pete's boots making a disgusting, sloshing noise. 

- Put him here, face up - you command, throwing a couple of papers to the floor.

- ...Coming back from a night hunt, and this fucking Ghoul was asking around town about you...

- Cut his shirt - another command, thrown over your shoulder, as you begin to rummage through a cabinet filled with chemicals and various herbs, barely registering the words. 

- ...And when we started asking questions back at him, he just shot Peter, right then and there...

You pluck a couple of twisted, dried herbs into your trusty, stone mortar, spitting into it, to gather some moisture. Throwing a semi-clean rag at the man, your voice cuts through his rambling.

- Put pressure on it.

There is no exit wound, and you almost sigh with annoyance at the prospect of fishing out a bullet. It had to be done, however, putting your sleep depriation and a building headache aside, you scoop out some of the herbal paste with your fingers, before pushing past the man.

- Hold his legs down - you mutter, taking a blink-and-you-miss-it moment to check Pete's temperature.

- ...Thankfully, he didn't kill Pete on the spot, so I brought him here straight away.

Pete flinches on the table, as you apply the paste to the wound. That's about as big of a reaction he's capable of, given the amount of blood he just spilled onto your porch. Another thing to clean up, after you take care of the table. What a way to start a fucking day. You can see his eyes follow your movements, barely conscious, but still alive. Sweat beads and gathers at his brow, and you reach out with a clean rag, to dab it off his skin.

Then, as if coming out of a stupor, your eyebrows scrunch together. The story of this faithful encounter finally registering in your brain. 

- A man was asking about me? - you ask, despite already knowing the answer. 

- Well, kinda. A Ghoul. 

You knew which Ghoul, it was not difficult to piece together. 

- And he didn't kill Pete, just injured him - you can feel another headache brewing just behind your eyes, as the sheer stupidity of the man in front of you finally comes to the surface.

They led him to you. 

Three, steady knocks to your door, smug and confident, interrupt the conversation, and deep down you can see the future of every person present in this cabin. As if you've developed some magical powers. 

Stilling your suddenly trembing hands, you settle the mortar back on the table. Thenyou instruct the man to keep pressure once more. Covering yourself with a robe you got as payment for stitching up a sliced finger, you make your way to the door. Fabric flows around your feet, shuffling like the wings of a moth. 

Your eyes flicker to the side, where, placed against a wall, stands a small end table. Under it, you've hidden a rather large kitchen knife, and for a second you debate, whether going for it now would be the best course of action. Call it dumb optimism, but deep down, you pray this is some big misunderstanding, and you'll be allowed to go back to your patient, preferably sooner than later. 

There's no need to bother with a gun, no time too. Pete is bleeding out faster than a stuck pig, and you were not one to leave your customers unsatisfied. Or, in this particular line of work, dead. 

The door opens with a slam. There's a small indent in the wooden wall, where the door handle has hit the surface.  The cabin is slowly entering the state of ruin, although, some places are more taken care of than others. Still, it has a roof, a semi intact entrance and even a window with actual glass in it. Quite the luxury in the Wastelands. 

Cooper didn't know what to expect, not really. Seeing you for the first time gave him a mixture of varying feelings, as well as a rather uncomfortable throbbing in the nether regions. Who could blame him, really? Your wanted poster gave you no favors, and although he was able to recognize you almost immediately, he still felt slightly short of breath.

He scolds himself for getting distracted by his thoughts, and as your eyes lock down on him, he lifts the barrel of his gun, touching the rim of his hat. Your eyes shift like little sparkling gems onto the weapon, before your jaw locks.

- Salutations Ma'am - his voice is rough from lack of use, the southern twang even more prominent, than usual. - I believe our introduction was cut short.

Yellowed teeth flash in a mirthless smirk, and then his expression tightens.

Cooper is used to people reacting, let's say, negatively towards him. Fear is the most common, and he can't blame the masses, he really can't. Disgust, as well, happens quite often. But as he looks over your feverish gaze, he can't really see either one of the emotions. 

No, what you give him is an annoyed roll of your eyes, and he's surprised to say, it bothers him more than he'd be comfortable admitting. He's a goddamned bounty hunter, a ruthless one at that, and a fucking Ghoul. Fuck you mean, you're annoyed by his presence?

- Look - you're already turning away from him, shooting a look towards your kitchen, where he can see a leg twitch in a spasm on top of your table - I ain't got time for whatever this is - your hands wave around in Cooper's general direction. - You'll have to wait your turn.

- Ah, well, I'm not the patient kind.

A squeak of surprise leaves you, as the Ghoul pushes past your body, entering your house gun first, murder clear in his deep set eyes. His steps take him through your living room, dangerously close to your kitchen. You know exactly, what's going to happen, and your arms shoot out on instinct. His body is unnaturally warm, even through layers of clothing, as you wrap yourself around his waist, tugging him back with all your might.

 He looks down on you, more bothered by the sudden contact, than the fact you're trying to stop him. It gives you a small leverage, and you push him back a couple of steps, settling yourself between the entrance to the kitchen, and the bounty hunter, raising your hands and getting ready to fight. 

- I don't have time for this kinda bullshit. Git. - Cooper snarls at you, his gun-free hand coming up to grab at your hair.

Before you have time to react, five fingers twist hard into your roots, and you stifle a scream, as the Ghoul pushes you off of him. On instinct, your hands come up to tug against his wrist, nails digging into the leathery skin. He lets you go with a hiss, and you use that second, to throw yourself towards the end-table. 

Your fingers find the handle with a practiced ease. Then, your body twists like a radioactive viper, and all Cooper sees is a flash of metal. The blade is rusty and chipped, but it could still do some damage. Especially now, that it's pressed against Cooper's jugular, the dull, cold presence halting all his movements. Your eyebrows raise in small recognition at the thin fabric tied around his neck. The scarf. Your mouth goes dry.

- Everything okay back there? - Benny asks from the kitchen, you can hear his approaching footsteps.

- All's well, kee pressure on the wound - your voice is tight with nerves, but the man obeys. 

Cooper watches your face carefully, his gun tucked neatly into the meat of your stomach, ready to fire, should the situation escalate. You can feel it, pressed right into the hollow space under your spleen, a good place to be shot, if you could even say that. You're dealing with a professional, apparently. 

- We seem to have a bit of a conundrum on our hands, little lady - Cooper drawls, voice bordering on a whisper, his eyes follow the way your tongue darts out to lick your chapped lips. 

- I have a patient, he needs help - you explain in an even tone, breathing shallow - After that, I'll deal with you.

Despite being at a loosing position, you refuse to back down, your eyes glued to the Ghoul in front of you. You're bracing yourself for the imminent pain, should he decide shooting you would be easier, but it never comes. Instead, the barrel of the gun presses further into your flesh, before lightly retracting. The cold metal is dragged up, across the expanse of your stomach. You bite the inside of your cheek, and surpress a shiver, when it travels between the swell of your breast, and settles into the dip of your collarbones. 

You swallow thickly, Cooper's eyes catching the movements of your trachea like a hungry vulture. The tip of the gun touches the underside of your chin, pushing your head to one side, then the other, as if the bounty hunter is taking inventory in a butcher's shop. Once he's had his fill, he lifts the gun completely, raising his hands as a peace offering.

- Git - you whisper back at him, and a flash of something rushes through his mangled expression. 

You take a step back, chest rising in falling rapidly, blade still in front of you, just in case. Then another step, and the bounty hunter dusts off his coat, before sitting down on a stool in your cluttered living room. You don't like the way he looks at you, eyes shining from under his hat, as he occupies your space like it belongs to him. Long legs apread in front of him, and you try very hard not to sneak a peak between them. Finally, you cross the entrance to the kitchen, and the knife is tucked under the leather belt of your pants. 

A sigh, a roll of shoulders, and you're off.

Cooper watches with curiosity, as you immediately start to work on the poor bastard stuck on your table. Your back is taunt, hands bloodied but steady, as you lean down to take the metal bullet out of the wound. The herbal paste you've provided earlier has dried up, and is currently working wonders for the bleeding, while you reach inside with not-so-sterile pliers. 

- Hold him down - he hears you say, as the legs on the table start to twitch again. 

Finally, a metallic sound of the bullet hitting a dish is heard, and you stand up, making your way towards the cabinet filled with chems. There is a grace to your movements Cooper wasn't expecting. Reminds him of dancers, ballet ones. 

Back in the day, his ex-wife would drag him to all those ballet shows, ones that made him feel stupid and uncultured. He swallows around the memory, willing it to die down, as you shoot him a cautious look over your shoulders. 

He wiggles his gun at you lightly, a reminder, that all this is happening because of his good humor. You scoff. 

Pete starts screaming as soon, as you begin to dress the wound properly. Chemical smell fills the air, and although Cooper lacks the nose to feel it, his eyes water all the same. You seem to be unbothered, years of doing this exact job must've hardened your senses. Finally, it's done. There's nothing more you can do for the man, and you wipe your hand on your forehead, leaving a large smear of red.

- He'll be fine - you mutter towards the other man in the kitchen - He needs rest, and a loads of it too. 

A couple of small bottles and dried herbs land onto a checkered cloth, and you tie it closed, like a small care package. 

- Dress his wounds twice a day - you press the package into the other man's hands while he helps his partner off the table - Good luck. 

Cooper glares at the men, as they stagger out the front door. They don't seem to pay him any mind. Well, the shot one definitely doesn't, he can barely walk on his own. His friend is too preoccupied with keeping him on his arm, to even acknowledge that this whole situation was orchestrated by Cooper himself. Or perhaps, he's to stupid to connect the dots. It's hard to tell these days. 

The door closes with a click, and Cooper stands up from his stool, sauntering over to the kitchen. 

You're currently trying to wash blood off of your hands, which are stained crimson almost up to your elbows. It goes about as well as expected, and as you dry your arms with a rag, there's still a pinkish stain to your skin. 

The table is a mess, blood and herbs seeping into the wooden planks which make up the surface. Cooper leans against the doorframe, as he watches you splash some chemicals onto the wood. It bubbles up in a disgusting mixture of red, green and yellow. You let it sizzle for a moment, before taking that same bowl of water you've been using to clean up, and dumping it all onto the table. The mixture flows down to the floor, the residing surface looking much cleaner. 

- Now, as much as I'd love to sit around and play house with you, honey - Cooper starts, and has to clear his throat, when you look up at him wordlessly, blood on your face and fire in your eyes - I have a bounty to collect.

Sighing, you push your hair back from your forehead, exhaustion, which is synonymous with living in the Wastelands seeping off of you like a tidal wave. 

- Do you have a name? - you ask, reaching for a leather bag sitting on one of the chairs. 

- I do - he says, and you roll your eyes at the deliberate lack of information his answer has given you. 

You mutter something that sounds scarily close to "asshole", and begin to chuck a couple of vials into the bag, then some herbs, then a water canteen. It's like you're ready to move out at any time, and a sneaking suspicion arises in Cooper's mind. This isn't the first time you're in this situation, if your calm demeanor is anything to go by. Suspicious, highly so, and as you turn around to face him, Cooper raises his hand ever so slightly. 

Your eyes fall onto the bundle of rope in his grip, eyebrow raising in annoyance. 

- You serious? 

- As a funeral, sweetheart - he sways the bundle lighty, his other hand pointing the gun at your abdoment - Now, are you going to be good, and come over here? Or should I come over there and make it unpleasant for us both?

- You're already making it unpleasant - you mutter, but cross the kitchen towards him, raising your hands, palms up. 

- Wait. 

Confusion hits you, when the Ghoul reaches into his pocket, producing a small piece of torn cloth. Your entire body goes still, as he grabs onto your chin, cold metal of his gun digging into your cheek, the barrel settling into the juncture between your neck and your shoulder. Then, despite your best efforts at freeing yourself from his grip, he brings the cloth to his lips, wetting the fabric with his tongue. 

The bloody smear on your forehead is wiped down rather roughly, and you twist in place like an impatient toddler, when Cooper leans his head back, to look at his handywork. You shiver with disgust, at the feeling of his drying saliva on your skin, and as soon, as he lets you go, you begin to rub at your forehead with the sleeve of your robe. 

- Good condition - he rasps, and if looks could kill, he'd be six feet under.

He gives you a nasty smirk, settling his gun down for just a moment, and grabbing your wrists together, so he can tie them up. Which is all the time you need to make a decision, and kick out your knee, nailing him right in the crotch. He doubles over, cursing loudly, hands shooting out to grab you, but all he catches is your tattered robe, which you slide out of easily. 

Fater than he would've anticipated, you grab at your bag, and bolt to the back of the kitchen, where he watches you jump over the table and all but slide out of the house through an open window. It's like a choreographed dance, the way you move out of his grasp. When he reaches the window himself, there's no sight of you, other than the rustling of tree branches somewhere in the woods behind your cabin. 

- Fucking women. - Cooper whistles.

He can't deny the shiver of excitement running down his back, as he secures the hat over his eyes.  If that's how you want to play, he would oblidge. It's been far too long since he could actually enjoy a more challenging bounty. Cooper slowly walks out of your cabin, looking over all the little trinkets you've gathered inside. Then, almost lazily, he lifts the robe you've left him to his nose. He feels nothing, of course, but he has quite a vivid imagination. Vivid enough to supply him with a memory of a scent from his past life. Lavender, he'd bet you smell like lavender. 

Your tracks are deep and visible across the ground, and so, the hunt begins. 

[helloescapist]

The Hashiras with a Family | Gyomei Himejima

Word Count: 5665

Setting: Gyomei x gn!reader [established, developed relationship]

Content Warning(s): contains spoilers to Gyomei’s background friend, family discussion, brief mentions of pregnancy, and/or carrying a child.

Summary: headcanons as to what Gyomei Himejima would be like with a family, whether he ever wanted kids, why or why not, what it was that determined he would have a child with you, what he would be like as a parent, and a partner.

There was never a question of whether Gyomei Himejima desired a family. He has always had a natural disposition towards children, towards nurturing the next generation. As though a moth to the flame, he has no will to resist the calling, the gentle pull upon his heart. To care for others comes as naturally as breathing for the Stone Hashira.

Though, it may not have always been his intention to have children of his own. Yet, one cannot deny that he has always gravitated towards a caretaker position.

While other little boys set to work amongst their pretend occupations, the occasional farmer and merchant amongst the would be samurais with sticks at their belt, Gyomei was more than content to accept the duty of caring for the dollies. The warmth of his voice, young and soothed into hummed lullabies, satisfied to rock the playthings to sleep.

Discovered delight in forming little onigiris composed of mud and wild berries for his imaginary family, to greet his pretend spouse from their busy day defending a make-believe castle. Content to live a life of domesticated bliss, to scrub laundry in the rivers, and dry them upon hung lines. Callous of fingers that knew honest work, back that knew labor and the till of the land, and children’s laughter.

It was a desire the Stone Hashira captivated, long before the meaning had proper merit. A dream painted in long nights, in joy of small victories, of first steps, and shoes waiting at the door. Gyomei has never been one to shy away from little ones, such as the way he immediately accepted care for the Kocho sisters upon the loss of their parents, always one to insist in assisting exhausted mothers, and corral rowdy toddlers. Shinobu was a terror as a child, I just know it.

The small press of a smile to his lips, guided only by the sound of their jostled amusement, and the warmth of their tiny hands as the fold into his own, significantly larger palms as though he could hold the entire world his hands and perhaps because to Gyomei, they are the entire world.

As a partner, Himejima is in tune with your needs, with your hopes, and your dreams. He is able to detect from the tone in your voice if he should cook a home cook meal, or just pick up dinner. The Stone Hashira can foresee if there is a need for tea, or if you need something stronger.

There is so much to be said as how overconsiderate of a spouse he is, and because of this, Gyomei was well aware of your desire for a family before it had properly taken form. It was a small smile that had blossomed on your lips on your usual outings. The small coos of an infant during a trip to a grocer that had captivated your attention, drew your eyes in admiration.

Another instance in which a child had been separated from its mother during your tea shop visit, the slight blush met at the touch of realization of how naturally the little one’s hand fits into your palm. The small whisper of hope was the very moment that Himejima became painfully aware of how your gaze lingered for the chubby fingers that bid you farewell when reunited with its mother; the absence of warmth that shattered his own.

The daydreams of a little boy that gave way to the realities of the world as well as the loss of his family, of survival, and little joys of mending ragged clothes, bundled blankets in a rundown temple. A life of blood, sweat, tears, and an empty belly with only the laughter of children to bring meaning to his other wise colorless world. A makeshift family of his own, and for but only a moment, Himejima knew peace. Drew life to his bones, and in the next moment, suffocated him.

Shattered pasts, blistered scars, drudged in planted doubts, insecurities, and the loss of his little ones.

His fault.

To bare witness to the blossom of yearning in your heart… No, no it’s not that the Stone Hashira does not wish for a family. Every aspect of him, has always pined for such a life, dedicated to domesticated bliss, but to dare to dream means to open himself up for the ghost of his pasts.

To face phantoms of those he loved, and those he believed he had damned would only poison his present, corrupt his future. The distant daydream that slipped between his fingers, all too aware of the specters that clasp his heart, and threaten to drag him to the pits of despair. Every time he allows himself to consider the possibility…

The Stone Hashira needs time, and he is all too aware of the scars he bears. As steady as the breath that falls from his lips, the words uttered in quiet shame, asked of your patience. Your understanding. Forgiveness, as he seeks to heal wounds that have only been left to fester. The

To greet the embrace of domesticity, to retire his duties, to know the warmth of children laughter once more. To swallow the guilt of lost lives, of robbed futures to parade upon his own.

No, no Himejima is all too aware of the small fingers that clasped his heart, and now drags him to the pits of despair every time the thought blossoms within his heart. The flow of time to sort out his own feelings, to accept the sorrows of his past, embrace the spirits of the lost to rest with his soul. That to accept that which the Stone Pillar cannot change, the loss of all the love he had captivated, of dreams he had fostered for each of his children, to acknowledge who they were, who they could have been, and what will never be.

To forgive himself.

Grief, loss, and carrying on is never an easy road, and as a partner, you cannot expect him to overcome such devastation with ease. Regardless of how many years have come to pass, and those that will follow, the reality is that they will always be a part of the Stone Pillar’s foundation.

Pieces of his heart, shattered to the night, and even when the time for your family to start, Gyomei will still think of them.

He will hear them in your little one’s laugh, reminiscent of mischief in the middle of the night upon hearing your child’s toes creep against aged wood panels. Danced in wishes across flower petals, childhood games that meet his ears, he will yearn for their hands when your little one folds their fingers of his own. New to the world, and far too small to understand the warmth of love that surrounds it, but it is in these moments, that Himejima can finally… breathe.

Because, you never asked him to forget his children.

If you can find the patience, and compassion for the unique aspect of the man before you, bound to your heart, and tended to scars, you will be more than rewarded. You see, Himejima has no preference for the delivery of your children, or the way that they fall into your lives.

Rather, his only desire is for your children to be healthy. The axe wielder is a patient man, and more than accepting of the world. Over considerate of your needs, he’s just pleased that you both have come to the place in which you are ready to start a family.

In whichever way that may be.

If you are one for the concept of pregnancy, and childbirth, you are in for a pampering, and fretful experience. Gyomei would delight at the round of your belly, his hands naturally drawn to it regardless of the size. Easily captivated between his large hands, one to whisper affection and praise, self-assured that the baby can hear him despite what the taisho era midwives may claim.

In terms of pregnancy, Himejima is perhaps the perfect partner to enter this stage of life with. Bare in mind how in tune he is with your needs, he will be quick to tend to the growing pains of pregnancy. So much so that, you may find it a bit more of a pleasurable experience than others—though you will still have your share of burdens.

You may find yourself frustrated how rigid he can be when it comes to childrearing. Gyomei will take the utmost care to ensure that you are well fed. All midnight cravings satisfied in appropriate quantities, even if it means he must hunt down the tea house owner at 2am to procure your coveted anmitsu with side of pickled plums and steamed silkworms—no he does not understand this by any means, but if it brings you joy, who is he one to question your needs.

Gyomei cannot rearrange the bedding enough to ensure that he has shooed away any of your discomfort, and there will never be enough time to tend to your swollen feet. Fretting, and murmuring over small scoldings to take this delicate time with ease rather than remain steadfast. The early months would only greet the tip of the iceberg. His mother hen ways have only just begun, spent holding your hair, and spending hours dedicated to making porridge. The removal of all potential hazards I know he takes baby proofing very seriously. He’ll remove any potential nausea triggers from your sights and go to extremes to ensure you know comfort.

You will discover all of your original house chores laid to the side, completed without your attendance. Attention to detail has always been a strength of the Stone Pillar, and he will utilize this to provide you with a breezy pregnancy.

If anything, you’re likely to grow bored, and even agitated at how pampered you’ve become. Insisting that pregnancy has not robbed you of your ability to hang laundry.

The second trimester, will only press upon superstitions, the having the joy of sharing your good news amongst the village, and the Demon Slayer Corps. Frequent visits to the shrines, pressed days of Inu no hi, and the insistence that you wear a hara-obi. Fretting over the comfort, and warmth of the baby. He has hunted down the elusive retiree shinobi, requesting locations of recommended onsen—he has heard of the health benefits.

He will shuffle through every Shinobu has supplied him with, and he will delight in any recipes that Shinazugawa recommends, taking extra care of the nutritional value. He is gushing to anyone who will listen about your pending bundle of joy.

The utter devastation upon Mitsuri inquiring if—you would perhaps return to your parent’s home nearing the end of your pregnancy. H-he forgot about that part. His worries, have only just begun, and by the third trimester he is a fretful ball of nerves. Because in the Taisho era, fathers would not have been welcome to be involved in the birth, or the early weeks as they are in the present.

But I mean, is anyone really capable of stopping Gyomei? I mean… bruh.

Should you have zero desires to bear a child no one here blames you, or the inability to do so. Do not worry over your relationship, it is not something that Gyomei would ever be distraught over, nor feel the need to doubt his partner. If anything, it would likely break his heart for you to have ever believed it a deal breaker in your relationship.

It’s true, he would be delighted to see life greet you, but the same joy would be expressed regardless of how your family has begun. He has never placed a high importance upon gender, nor the path to parenting you undertake.

An adoptive child, foster family, all it would suit him just fine. Ultimately, the arrival of your children is only partly determined by you. Should you desire to carry your child, well, the little one will have just as much of his heart and love as the children he adopts. No matter what, you’re adopting some kiddos.

Full disclosure, Gyomei adores children, and it’s only natural that he would welcome as many as could ever need him. Because of this, you will need to be up front, and communicative if you have an aversion to raising, well a horde.

He has always had an open heart as well as an open home policy, and it’s completely okay if you do not. The Stone Hashira favors a bond with his spouse, so much that I imagine he would be wiling to accept the one or two children max policy you have. As long as you are willing to accept that, he will never turn those away in need.

Himejima spent a long, long time selecting a name for your child(ren). Time agonizing over the name, despite the fact that he has a preference for more traditional names.

He adores the nostalgia, the comfort, and would be prone to opting for old school names. I imagine that he would give your little one the same name that the little granny at the grocer has. At the same time, I believe that he would be very intentional with his selection. It would be something with akin to a wish for your child. Something like

Tenmu—heaven, sky, imperial, celestial Kiyomoto – holy, sacred Yoshiko—fragrant, virtuous, beautiful child.

It would be a name that carries so much weight, and adoration, but distant to the touch. A whisper of a name, one that draws a smile to the elder’s faces as it slips from their lips. Reminds them of someone, they used to know, a long, long time ago, and memories that may have been forgotten.

There are those who will struggle with parenting. I mean, most everyone will in some form or fashion. Those who cannot grasp the concept of having someone entirely dependent on them like Shinobu, those who will battle their inner monologues like Obanai, and those who will down right, never have a grasp on disciplining their children in an appropriate way Mitsuri.

However, there are few obstacles that the Stone Hashira would grapple with in parenting. Truthfully, he has faced a few challenges in the past, and in the present raising Genya. He has endured late nights rocking a child inflicted by colic, potty training willful toddlers, navigating the emotional needs of developing children, and the ever-sharp tongues of teenagers.

There is little that will knock the giant from his stance or shake his foundation. If there was ever a parent who soaked in the newborn stage, thrived on the sleep deprivation, and glowed in the early days of parenting, it’s Gyomei. It would greet him well, and verify that this is the very moment, he has waited his whole life for.

The resignation of his loud, thundering heartbeat as comforting as waves coddled n his large arms accompanied by his natural pace falling into a sway that soothes even the restless. Safe, secure. Just imagine snuggling in those arms. In many ways, I believe that if given the opportunity, Himejima would seize the opportunity to be the primary caregiver—to stay home with the little ones.

Delighted to be surrounded by little ones, the sounds of laughter, and wipe away tears. Cuddle the hours away, sooth hair ends, and snub the snot from little rounded noses. To consol and comfort. A stay-at-home parent would suit him well, he is content to remain home and care for the children, to prepare meals, and tend to the laundering.

On the same coin, he is just as willing to ensure the financial well-being of his home, but leaving you is not in his nature, and because of this, he will have to try extra hard to remain steadfast to his cause. He never faltered on his beliefs until your little one entered the home. Yet, he is more than aware that he has a duty, and owes your family dedication as well. Though, the first day Himejima is apart from you, he will fret over every little thing.

Worry over if you have had a moment of peace, if the little one has slept well, if you have had a meal, did he pack enough nappies for the day—all of it? As a father, worrying is his pastime.

Though, he’s not the sort to be a helicopter parent. Rather it’s that he is well aware that looming over their every step will not grant them a happy life. Every aspect of the Stone Hashira desires to become his children’s shadows. To follow their lead, to remain within fingers grasp. To snatch them from certain stumbles, heart ache, and tragedies of lost dollies, but he won’t.

His worries often burden his heart, and his mind, they weigh to him like anchors are always present. However, Himejima is aware that the scars of his past cannot impact his parent. He cannot permit its place amongst his presence. While it may pain the ax wielder to do so, he will relinquish control gradually, allowing them the room for growth, and failure.

To wander from his grasp, to explore their worlds, their identities, to make their own missteps, and discover their destines. Away from you. Away from him. They will scrap knees, they will know heart ache, and failure.

Himejima is the sort of father to accept the agony of his children as his own. To adopt their burdens, and devastation, to welcome them into his arms as they sob into his kimono though they may never realize the depths his heart aches for them. The soothing pat of his large hand gently tending to their tears, offering only the faintest vibration of a hum in the  depths of his throat as he chokes back the pain of a father.

Their pain is his own.

In many ways, he is a natural parent. Himejima is warm, and comforting. The shelter against the rain, and the wind that whispers against the wind, he is firm, and protective. He guides and nurtures; the Stone Hashira remains where others would flee.

He has always stood against aversity, and breaths through the storm. Attentive, and quick to rise from slumber upon detecting a small skip in the newborn’s breathing in the dead of night. Adjusting space by the needs of the children simply at the drop of your teenager’s tone. Through puppy love, and heartbreak, Gyomei enjoys observing and noticing all of your little one’s unique traits and strengths.

The small wiggle of their nose when they are upset, the way your youngest’s gaze naturally drifts to the left when they are thinking. The way your middle rocks on their heels when they have a surprise in store, or the way your oldest always tucks a little bite of rice in with his side.

The Stone Pillar notices every little thing, and because of this, he is the first to pick up on change, on growth, and accomplishments. The bend of your infant’s knee, revealing its upcoming crawling days, the dexterity in your toddler’s fingers as they grow capable of feeding themselves.

He’s nostalgic; Gyomei is often easily a victim of reflecting upon his children’s accomplishments, and reflections of their lives. The way your oldest brought home a snake, begging to keep it. How you screamed. At times, his reminiscence are embracing the individuality of your children; other times, it is easy for him to be swept away by prior days and mourn the ones to come.

Easily swept away by memories, and likely to dedicate too much time flipping through old family albums. He will desperately need you during these times. In some of the most bone crushing hugs you can imagine.

Sir has grandpa vibes.

The reality is, the majority of parenting comes easily to him. Almost effortlessly that you may find yourself frustrated with your own lacking in certain areas. His eagerness to care for and teach your children the ways of the world, may grow the tense feelings that perhaps you are not doing enough as their other parent.

He’s dedicated, to ensuring that they are well rounded adults, and far to willing to dedicate his life to the endeavor. His patience with the kids when you are at your wits end; Himejima’s natural ability to swoop end cease tears in their tracks. To remain calm despite the situation, or serious injuries, all of it is easy to feel inadequate next too, and it’s easy to run the risk of feeling a bit bitter at his approach to parenting.

However, if you are open with him about your struggling, the Stone Pillar is quick to search out ways to assist you, even if there just little small things throughout the day such as having your lunch packed, or little sweets hidden for you in your belongings on stressful days.

On one hand, it’s wonderful markings of a father, on the other, it’s easy to feel swept under the rug when he spends all of his time tending to the littles. So much so that he likely struggles to juggle date night, either because he finds reasons to stay home with your kiddos, or because he is fretting over them during your time together and plunging the date down the toilet.

It’s not that the axe wielder intends for this to happen, it is in a sense the occupational hazard of being the primary parent, and you will have to work hard with him to ensure your relationship bonds are secure as ever.

In parenting, Gyomei is the definition of present. He will move mountains to ensure that he is at every recital, every PTO meeting, even the most minor of scrapped knees, he will find the way to be at your side. He is tender, and open to accepting your child’s feelings as they come. Even if at times, they are especially scathing. Kids words cut the deepest.

Ultimately, this is all because he believes that in displaying sincerity in his relationship as a father, that the same trait may be passed down to his children. He wants to foster the sort of relationship in which they know they are free to discuss, whatever their little heart desires from the mundane chasing butterflies to the heavy depths of emerging youth he said, she said.

He is prepared for any scrap, and boo boo alike with a plethora of cutesy bandages at his disposal, and even the accommodations should your child find bandaging discomforting. The home is always well stock prior to alignment, the touch of allergies approaching, he is already pushing all the remedies into your systems.

Himejima is quick to offer affections, although it is true that it may not always be verbal. Let’s be clear that it does not mean that he will lack verbal affirmations for your children, but rather that the physical tending to comes far easier to him, but he is the sort to make the extra effort even if it feels a touch foreign.

He is fiercely protective of his children who can blame him,  and because of this you will find that he puts extreme care into his environment. All furniture will likely remain secure well into the formative years.

The bright side, if grandkids should be in your future, you’ll never have to babyproof. It’s still present from your childbearing years. You will likely have to petition him from time to time to scale it back as there is no real reason as to why a seven year old needs a baby proofed toilet.

No, parenting is a natural component of Gyomei’s DNA, and it all comes painfully naturally to him on instinctual levels. Coded in the depths of his gene pool, and because of this, you will find that it is in fact, society norms that plague him.

The knitting of old ladies that share their experience, despite how dated their approaches are, to the societal norms in corporal punishments will have him doubting his natural abilities. Causing him to question his abilities as a father, if perhaps he is not stern enough with his children wellbeing. As though an extra pudding will send them to jail.

The little buzzing of influence in his ears will have him grappling with every decision, debating if it is in fact a good idea. The mass majority of societies expect a father to be stern, to be firm, and forceful, a disciplinary and provider, words that do not coincide with his identity, and will easily be confused as shortcomings as a parent.

As a man, he is far more content to stay home with his children rather than seek a paycheck, and if you yourself are pleased by your career, he is the first to offer to relinquish his for raising children.

There in lies a flaw in the societal pressures exerted on him, whispers if he is truly a capable father, a man, or head of the household. He will need your reassurance that gender norms have no place in your home, and you are very pleased with the order of things, but know that every now and then it will seep in.

The doubts, the worries, and often finds it rears its ugly head when it comes to disciplining.

Gyomei hates criticizing his children. To inflict any sort of sadness, no matter how necessary, will inflict inner turmoil and anxiety. Quick to dote, and likely to let more things slide than he should, in a power dynamic with children, he hopes that his children will remain steadfast to their teachings, and he will crumble when they give to peer pressure.

You may find yourself as the one to reprimand misbehaviors, but given enough time, he will strike a balance between discipline and love. Though you may have to suffer in the meantime as he is quick to fold with the smallest of lip trembles.

As a parent, and a partner, it is true that he will initially struggle to find a balance between tending to the children and your relationship.  Grapple with letting go of anxieties and worries, and acknowledge that you will still need him as your partner. This will become expedited as he really, and truly cares for you in all aspects, and while it may slip from time to time, he is quick to find his way back to you.

Himejima views his treatment of you, as his partner, as what his children will seek out in their own mates, and because of this, you will find that there may be times where he is pushing himself more to meet some figment of his imagination.

Grand gestures are not his strong suit, yet he will attempt to compete with Uzui levels of displays, and will just need some reassurance that you love him, and things as they are.

[lee-laurent]

The Past - John Marino

Summary: The timeline of John and Tori's relationship

notes: This is like a prequel to 'Done Trying!' You don't have to read this part, but it gives background on John and Tori's relationship. How they got to where they are in the fic now. The part after this will be a continuation of 'Done Trying' so look for that in the next few days. Also, I do not want to hear any negative criticism about how I've written her depression. I have depression myself and this is how it manifests for me. It's different for everyone, so I don't want to see any hate. Your experience may be different than mine, but every mental health experience is valid.

content: angst, fluff, unplanned pregnancy, break ups, anxiety issues, arguments, birth (not super graphic), mentions of sex but no actual smut, depressive episode, body image issues, mentions of abortion

2019

Tori wasn't drunk by any means, just a bit tipsy. Her fake ID had worked and she was enjoying her night out with her friends. The bar wasn't particularly busy, but the girls were managing to make it feel like a party.

The group of girls all turned to look at the door as a group of rowdy men entered. They were all cheering loudly and patting each other on the back.

"Was there a hockey game tonight?" one of Tori's friends asked.

"I think so," she shrugged, downing the rest of her rum and coke. "I'm going to get another one."

"We'll be here!" one of the other girls giggled.

"Hi, could I have another rum and coke, please?" she grinned at the bartender.

"Sure thing," the man returned with the drink a few minutes later, placing it in front of her, "That'll be 6 dollars."

She reached into her back pocket, when a voice beside her stopped her, "I've got it."

She turned, looking at the man next to her. He was significantly taller than her five foot frame, with tan skin and unruly, dark curls he brushed from his eyes.

"Oh! Thank you," she grinned, taking her drink from the counter.

"I'm John."

"Tori."

"You come here often? Sorry, I know that's cliche as fuck."

"Ha! No worries, my friends and I come here some weeks. It seems your group of friends is making it a bit more lively."

"Hope we're not interrupting your night."

"Not at all. We were the only ones making noise before you guys showed up. You from around here?"

"I'm from Massachusetts. But I moved here for work. You?"

"Pittsburgh born and raised," she smiled, raising her glass up before taking a sip.

The couple continued talking for the rest of the night. Tori wasn't the hookup type though, so instead of going home with him, she gave him her number. Leading to a long line of dates, until he finally asked her out officially.

2020

The world had locked down. No more hockey. No more school. No more work. Tori had subsequently moved into John's apartment so that they would be able to spend time together during the pandemic.

"What're you making?" John asked, wrapping his arms around Tori's waist, tucking his face in the crook of her neck.

"Oatmeal cookies."

"Smells good, baby."

"How was your nap?"

"Relaxing. Would've been better if you were there."

"You know naps make me feel like shit."

"I know... but the bed feels so empty without you."

"God, you're cheesy," she grinned, lifting her hand up to run through his mop of curls. "You want me to trim these?"

"Mmm, not today. I like them long. Why? Do you not like them?"

"I love your curls, Johnny. So sexy."

He grinned, pressing a kiss to her neck.

"I'm going to play 'chel with the boys. Call if you need anything."

She nodded, turning back to rolling the cookie dough into perfect balls. She'd taken up baking during the lockdown. John kept telling her he was going to be out of shape for the next season if she kept it up, but he continued to taste test everything for her nonetheless.

Another month into the lockdown and Tori wasn't herself. She wouldn't leave bed, she was taking naps, and John could barely get her to eat. She claimed she was fine, but he didn't believe her in the slightest.

"Come on, baby. I made mac and cheese, your favourite," he tempted, sitting on the bed and running a hand through her matted hair.

"Not hungry."

"You've gotta be hungry. You haven't eaten since yesterday morning. And all you had then was a couple crackers."

"I'm not hungry. Let me sleep."

"You've been sleeping all day. Can you get up and take a shower for me?"

"Too tired."

"Tori, baby..."

She just rolled over, hiding her face in the duvet. He sighed, leaving the bedroom and going to eat the food he'd made... why let it go to waste.

"How's Victoria doing, love?" John's mom asked through the phone, worry lacing her voice.

"I can't get her to do anything except sleep. I'm trying, Mom. She just..."

"Do you know if she has a history of depressive episodes?"

"Yeah, one when she was in high school. But she said she learned skills to cope."

"Just be there for her, John. That's all I can suggest."

"Thanks, Mom."

Two hours later, Tori emerged from the bedroom. She was wearing the same clothes she had been for days and her hair desperately needed a wash to rid it of grease.

"Hi, baby," John smiled softly.

"Hi. Will you come take a shower with me?" she whispered.

"Sure, but first can you just eat a few bites of the food I made?"

"I... I don't know."

"Please, Tori. Just so I know you're eating."

"Okay."

She sat on his lap, picking at the bowl of pasta in front of them.

"Five bites and we can take a shower."

"Okay."

It took her 20 minutes to take those five bites, but she did it. The couple stood under the hot water of the shower, embracing the time together outside of their room. John helped her wash her hair and brush out all the knots. She forgot how nice it felt to feel clean. She turned in his arms, squishing her face into his torso.

"I've got you, baby. I've always got you. I love you so much."

"I'm sorry, John," she sobbed, "I've been a terrible girlfriend."

"Shh, no you haven't. You're just struggling right now. It's okay. We'll get through his together."

"I love you. I'm sorry."

"No need to be sorry. I just want what's best for you. And rotting in bed isn't."

She leaned up and pressed a soft, loving kiss against his lips. When she went in for another one, he turned his head, her lips landing on his cheek.

"Did I do something wrong? I'm sorry," she cried again.

"No, no. I just... I'd feel like I was taking advantage of you. I love you so much, but I can't... do anything until you're yourself again. Okay?"

"Okay."

The next day, John helped Tori find a therapist online. Even going as far as to join sessions to learn how he could help her to help herself.

2021

Now that lockdown restrictions had been lifted slightly, Tori was thriving. She was going on daily walks and working on new coping skills to use when she felt that numbness creeping back in.

John was back to playing hockey and finally their lives had back some normalcy. A normalcy that had formed itself into a very... intimate love life for the two. There didn't seem to be a day that the two weren't having sex. Tori was pretty sure roadies were the only days they weren't falling asleep naked.

It was amazing, until it all came crashing down at the end of December. Tori had been feeling like shit for almost a week now. She felt sluggish and the sent of John before he showered after practice had her sick to her stomach. The idea of being pregnant though wasn't even a thought that crossed her mind. She had an IUD. They were safe. Surely it couldn't be...

"Do you want me to pick up a test, just in case? I know you said it's like almost impossible," John asked as he walked to his car at the arena.

"Sure, if it'll make you feel better. Pick up two, just in case one is faulty."

"Sounds good, babe. Be home in 20. Love you."

"Love you too, Johnny."

The couple stood in the bathroom, re-reading the instructions for the tests.

"I think it's self explanatory, John."

"I just want to make sure you're doing it right!" he swatted her hand away as she tried to grab the paper from him.

"Whatever," she rolled her eyes, sitting on the toilet with the stick.

"Yeah, just piss on it. Then we've gotta wait 5 minutes."

"Sounds good. You stayin' in here while I pee?" she giggled.

"I'll be right outside."

Peeing on the test was harder than she thought. It was like she couldn't get herself to pee, she was so nervous. After a couple minutes though, she'd put the caps back on and placed them on the counter.

"Come in, John. But I'm telling you, I'm not pregnant. Trusty old IUD keeps your sperm outta there."

"Maybe I've got really persistant sperm."

"I-" the timer rang. "You ready?"

"Yep."

At the same time, they flipped the tests, the plastic clattering against the sink as Tori dropped it.

"They- They must be faulty. False positive, right? Right, John?"

"I- is that a common occurance? I'll google it," he typed on his phone quickly, spelling half the words wrong, "There's less than a 1% chance of that, Tori."

"So? Maybe we're in that percentage. Did you even get good ones?"

"They were the most expensive ones! I just grabbed them!"

"They're wrong."

"Victoria..."

"Don't 'Victoria' me! They're wrong! I'm not pregnant! It's just a cold."

John rolled his eyes, "Can you at least go to the doctor? Get meds for your cold then."

"Fine! I'll make an appointment right now!"

"Perfect. I'm going to make dinner."

"I'm not pregnant," she whispered to herself as she typed in the number for her doctor.

"Is there any chance you're pregnant?" the doctor asked, staring into Tori's eyes.

"I have an IUD."

"I've seen it happen. Would you mind giving us a urine sample?"

Yay. Peeing into more things.

It didn't take long for the results to come back. The doctor entered the room holding a stack of paperwork.

"So, the urine sample came back positive for high levels of hCG. Which means you are pregnant."

"That's not possible."

"I know this is probably a lot to take in right now. I've written down some suggestions for a few OBs I reccomend. As well as some supplements we reccomend for the early stages of pregnancy. From the test, I'd say you're about three weeks."

"Shit. Um, sorry. Thank you. I'll, uh, call these numbers," Tori forced a smile, rushing off to get home.

"So? You are pregnant?" John asked, his eyebrow quirked.

"Yes. I just-"

"Okay."

"Okay? That's all you have to say?"

"What do you want me to say, Tori? 'Yay! I'm so excited to be a dad at 24!' Cause that'd be a lie."

"Stop acting like this is all my fault!"

"I never said that! I just... we've never even talked about having kids! This is all very sudden."

"How do you think I feel?! I'm the pregnant one! Now I have to tell all my friends and family that I got knocked up at 22!" she threw her purse down on the counter.

"You told me the IUD would work fine."

"Why are you blaming me? God, John! Grow up!"

"I should grow up?! You're the one yelling at me!"

"You're fucking infuriating!" she shouted, stomping off to their room. The door shut with a harsh slam, making the pictures on the wall swing.

"Fuck me," John muttered, grasping at his hair.

John slept on the couch that night, not wanting to deal with being yelled at again.

"We should talk about this, Tori," he offered at breakfast.

"Why? I'll just get the pregnancy terminated. You don't it."

"Tori... can we think about this? Make a rational decision."

"Why? Is getting an abortion not rational?"

"Not what I said. I just think you're still angry about yesterday, so you're not think rationally. We need to make a decision together here."

She rolled her eyes, "You made it clear how you feel."

"Did I?"

"Yeah, I think your words were 'I'm not excited to be a dad at 24!' So, there's our answer. You won't have to be," she sassed.

"Victoria, sit down."

"You're not my fucking dad."

"Stop acting like a child! Sit down!"

John rarely yelled at Tori, so the tone of his voice had her sitting right back down.

"Thank you. Listen, I'm not thrilled to be a dad right now, but I'm not telling you to end the pregnancy. I- we can make this work. I want you to make the final decision, but I won't be leaving if you decide this is what we're doing. I love you. And I support whatever decision you make. I will love that baby unconditionally."

"I... I need time to think about everything," she nodded, her lips pursed.

"I understand. But I really don't want to continue this arguing. I want us to enjoy our trip to Massachusetts. Not dwell on this and see our family."

"Okay, I have another appointment in January. You can come... if you'd like. I don't want to tell our families yet."

"Of course... I love you."

She sighed, "I love you too. No more fighting?"

"No more fighting," he nodded.

2022

Tori knew that nobody in the waiting area was judging her, but she felt judged. Her leg was bouncing, her nerves getting the best of her. She was filling out the paperwork that they'd given her. John placed a comforting hand on her thigh, trying to calm her.

"They're removing the IUD today. I don't know if you wanna be in there when they do it."

"I'll stay for moral support."

"Are you sure?"

"Why not," he shrugged.

Tori opened her mouth to respond when her name was called.

"Is your boyfriend coming with us today?" the nurse smiled.

"Yes, if that's okay."

"No problem! The doctor will be right in. We're going to start with the IUD removal. So if you could just strip from the waist down, she can get started."

"Do you want me to turn around?" John asked, taking a seat on the chair in the corner.

"No? Nothing you haven't seen before."

She sat down, throwing the sheet they'd.given her over her legs.

"Nervous?"

"A bit. It hurt to get in. People say it's worse coming out."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Want me to hold your hand?"

"That'd be nice," she smiled.

There was a knock at the door, "We all ready in here?"

"Yep. Come in."

"Hi, Victoria! I'm Dr. Reese. It's nice to meet you!"

"Hi. This is my boyfriend, John."

"Nice to meet you as well! We're going to start with the IUD removal, then we can start chatting about baby. Sound good?"

"Yeah. Is it okay if John holds my hand?"

"Of course! Alright, scooch, scooch. Perfect. Take a deep breath for me."

Tori inhaled, squeezing John's hand. Her eyes screwed shut. A pained breath escaped her mouth. Even John squinted, watching as the doctor pulled on the little strings.

"And done!"

"Thank God," Tori whispered.

"I'll step out! You can throw your clothes back on and I'll be back in a minute with the ultrasound machine."

"You ready?" Tori asked John, buttoning up her jeans.

"Yeah," he shrugged, sitting back down.

John and Tori had discussed things the day before. They were keeping the baby. It was an emotional discussion. Talking about the logisitcs of the whole thing. Especially with her still in school and John playing hockey.

"Ready to see baby?" the doctor smiled brightly.

"Yeah."

"Mhm."

"Alright. I warmed up the gel, it shouldn't be too bad," Dr. Reese moved the wand over Tori's lower abdomen. "And here is baby."

It looked like a little blob, but it still made John's eyes water.

"So, you're about 6 weeks. Measurements look good. I'll want to see you again around 18-20 weeks. You can schedule that on your way out. Congratulations, again."

"You alright, babe?" Tori asked, noticing how quiet John had gotten.

"Hm, yeah. I just... I didn't think I'd be this emotional. Especially over what looks like an alien."

Tori laughed, "Don't call our baby an alien!"

"I'm sorry," he giggled, wiping his eyes, "But it does look a little like an alien."

"Okay... maybe just a little."

The couple left the doctors' office laughing quietly to themselves, their hands intertwined.

Six Months Pregnant - May 2022

It was three in the morning and Tori was sobbing, "You don't understand, John. We're out of pickles."

"I heard you. I just... I don't understand why you're crying."

"I need pickles, John," she cried.

"I- I don't know where to get you pickles at 3am. Everything is closed."

Tori pulled herself out of bed, storming into the kitchen. She dug through the fridge and freezer, trying to find anything that would help her cravings. She pulled a bowl of watermelon out of the fridge, digging in.

John sluggishly joined her in the kitchen, wiping the sleep from his eyes.

"I'm sorry, baby. I'll get you pickles in the morning."

She just nodded, taking another forkful of melon. It wasn't as fulfilling was a jar of mini dill pickles, but it was helping. She couldn't even count how many jars of pickles she'd gone through during her pregnancy, but this was the first time they'd been out. It felt like the end of the world to her pregnancy hormones.

John loved Tori to bits, but the emotional rollercoaster of pregnancy was beginning to make him tired. He knew it wasn't fair and that she was going through much more, but lord was he exhausted.

"Do you want me to stay here? Or should I go back to bed?"

She shrugged, shovelling more food into her mouth. John sighed, coming around the counter. He placed a hand on her waist and one on her growing stomach.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

"Do you want to go back to bed?"

She hummed, taking one last bite. They shuffled back to the bedroom, Tori hugging onto her pregnancy pillow. John fucking hated the thing, but Tori couldn't sleep without it, so... he'd deal with it for the next three months.

August 2022

John had just been traded from Pittsburgh to New Jersey and now... it was time for their baby to enter the world.

"Ah!" Tori gripped her stomach. She was walking around the hospital room, waiting to be fully dilated. John was being supportive as possible, getting her more ice chips when requested and holding her hand when ever she felt a contraction. "Is it time yet?"

"The nurse said it could be a while, because it's your first."

"It's going to be our only. Holy shit! Why did you do this to me?"

John laughed, "I'm sorry, baby. You're the strongest woman I know. You've got this. Do you want to use the yoga ball again?"

"No! I just want the baby out of me!"

"And they said that the yoga ball will help that."

"Fine," she groaned, squatting down on the blue yoga ball. John smiled, watching as she bounced up and down, her cup of ice chips in her hand.

"They'll be back with the epidural soon. Then it'll be smooth sailing," he comforted.

10 hours later and she was finally pushing. She was squeezing John's hand so tight he thought it might break. But he tried to be supportive nonetheless.

"One more big push, Mama," the doctor smiled.

"I can't do it."

"You've got this, Tori," John whispered.

"I can't do it."

"Just one more push and our baby is here, love."

She braced, feeling the pressure one last time. She pushed and a wail filled the room.

"And here's baby boy."

"It's a boy?" John was smiling so wide, it hurt his cheeks.

"It is. Want to come cut the cord, Dad?"

He nodded excitedly, watching as they gave his son his first bath.

"Here you go, Mama," they placed the baby on her chest.

"Hi, baby," she was too tired to cry, but her son was so beautiful. He had a head of dark hair which explained the heartburn she'd had during the pregnancy.

"We'll be back in a bit to help you get him to latch. And then they'll be in with the name paperwork."

"Here," John smiled, unbuttoning part of her gown so she could do skin to skin.

"Riley."

"Hm?"

"Riley Alexander Marino."

"It's perfect, baby. Here, I'll hold him. You get some rest."

December 2022

Things were falling apart. The couple was arguing almost every day. Tori was struggling. She hated the way she looked and that feeling of numbness was starting to creep back in. But she wouldn't allow it, she needed to be there for Riley.

John was going through the hockey season and adjusting to a new team. He was barely home. And when he was, he was beyond tired. Not being much help at all. Night shifts were nonexisitant. It was always Tori getting up to get their son. John either "slept through it" or "was too tired from hockey."

Everything came crumbling down a week before Christmas.

"You're not any fucking help! Ever!" Tori yelled, throwing the burp cloth down on the counter. "I haven't left the apartment in days! I haven't been able to take a shower in days! All I do is take care of Riley!"

"Your his mom! Did you think you wouldn't have to take care of him?!"

"God! That's not what I meant and you KNOW it! Your his dad! When are you going to step up and actually do some fucking work?"

"I'm providing for us, Victoria! Would you rather I quit and we have no income?!"

"That's it. I'm leaving!"

"You're leaving?! Where are you going?"

"Anywhere that you aren't, John. I can't fucking deal with you right now. Call me when you've grown the fuck up and decide you actually want anything to do with your son," she stormed off to the bedroom, throwing things into a duffle bag.

"Victoria! You can't just leave! Talk to me!"

"I can leave! I can do whatever the fuck I want!"

"You- you can't just leave with Riley!"

"Sure, I can! Not like you parent him at all!"

"Victoria!"

"No! Fuck off!"

The screaming woke Riley from his nap and his wails soon filled the apartment as well.

"Great! Look what you've done!" John threw his hands up in frustration.

"What I did? You're so fucking immature. Stop acting like you're 12 and start acting like the 25-year-old you are!" Tori went to the nursery, grabbing some of Riley's things and putting them in the bag as well. She picked up her son, strapping him into his carrier. John was standing in the door, shell-shocked.

"Please, Tori. Just think about this. Please."

"No. I'll be back for more of our things in a couple days," she shook her head, leaving John all alone in the apartment.

March 2023

It was official. John and Victoria were done. Tori had gotten her own place and Riley went to see John every weekend. Slowly but surely, John and Tori were forming a friendship. They wanted things between them to be good for Riley.

And this friendship leads us to where we are now...

[winged-self-indulgence]

Part 1, Part 2

Tearing her gaze away, Theya waved to flag the bartender down. The older woman glanced her way, then at Leander, before finishing up with her current customer and walking over. “What can I get you?”

“Nothing,” Theya shook her head. “I just need the kitchen. I’ll pay for whatever I use.”

“No need,” Leander leaned in, his broad frame curving over her shoulder and half boxing her against the table. “I’ve got it.”

Theya stiffened and fought the instinctive urge to flinch away. To curl into herself with her hands hidden beneath her cloak. As if sensing her reaction, Leander reached over and placed his hand over her own with unhesitating confidence. Even through the bandages, the heat of his skin made her head spin like she’d chugged one of the mage’s ‘special’ drinks.

The bartender glanced down at the point of contact with a knowing look. “Of course you do,” she muttered. “You get an hour and no more.”

Theya hummed her gratitude. “That’s more than enough.”

“Do you need it now? The stove’s free but I need to clean up a few things.”

“It’s not immediate,” Theya replied. The door of the Wick opened again, letting in a brief burst of cold air. At her waist, the tarot deck hummed. Clinking chains, and The Devil hissed. Something wicked this way comes. “Actually, it is immediate. Urgent even.”

Leander was already looking over his shoulder at the newest entrants. The same welcoming mask covered his face, though Theya was close enough to notice that his gaze had cooled significantly.

Even without Ais’s bulk at his side, Vere’s presence carved a neat path through the Wick’s rowdy denizens. Their eyes followed him, magnetized to the monster's alluring silhouette. Saying he returned their admiring stares with disdain would imply that his attention was in any way on them at all.

“Ugh, what ghastly weather,” Vere complained, uncaring of who heard. His tail flicked, shaking snow and melt from the scarlet fur. “Couldn’t we have found somewhere else to wait out the snow? Other than this stinking cesspit.”

“You say that like I forced you to be here,” Ais replied, his easygoing attitude balancing neatly next to Vere’s scowl. “I’m here for a drink.”

Aside from a thicker cloak drawn over his shoulders, the demon remained clad in nearly the same attire as always. At least he’d made more of an effort than Vere, who was dressed in a variant of his usual skimpy, skintight outfit. Theya wondered if monsters didn’t feel cold the way humans did.

“Watered down dog piss you mean,” Vere muttered venomously, and let his eyes survey the room with the air of an offended deity making do with some meagre offering.

Theya caught the moment Vere's attention fell on her. A predator catching sight of prey. Eyes meeting through the haze of alcohol and candle-smoke. She gritted her teeth when his eyes brightened, pupils dilating into something wide and flat. His initial sneer transformed into a wide, mocking grin, and then Theya spun around to face the bartender with a pleading look.

The woman shrugged helplessly, but Theya caught the twinkle of amusement in her eyes as she glanced at the quickly approaching monster. “Five minutes.”

Five minutes, Theya thought grimly. Sure. If the bar was still standing by then, she would consider that her second winter gift of the night.

[romeoandjulietyouwish]

For as long as the de Rolos have lived, so has their curse. Its roots have long since been forgotten, perhaps a spell from a witch long dead, maybe the genes of someone married in, or maybe it’s just always been that way. No matter how the curse came to be, it’s been passed to every bloodborne de Rolo born as long as memory serves. 

But as much as the curse is known among the immediate family, it is also Whitestone’s best kept secret. None but those bearing the last name de Rolo are privy to what happens to anyone carrying de Rolo blood under the light of the full moon. 

Percy doesn’t remember a time he was told about the curse, it’s just always been part of his life. He didn’t start to change until after his third birthday, a bit early in comparison to his other siblings, something he still holds over their heads as a teenager. 

“Percy, dear,” his mother calls him over with a soft smile and a gentle wave of her hand. With a sigh, Percy does as he’s told and heads the call, sinking into the chair beside her at the dining table. 

Before he’s even properly seated, Johanna starts making him a plate, knowing that he probably won’t eat much unless she forces him too. “You need to eat breakfast,” she chides him. “You have to keep your strength up for tonight.” 

“Tonight?” Percy asks with a frown, stabbing a piece of fruit with his fork.

“The full moon,” Frederick chimes in, already on his second helping of food. 

Percy sighs heavily. It’s bad enough that the full moon interrupts his nights in his workshop, but it also means that he is forced to spend time with all of his family. All of whom become very very annoying in their wolf forms. 

Percy has long since lost the argument of him staying in the castle, in his workshop during the full moon. His mother, though she doesn’t change herself, refuses to let him be alone when he’s as vulnerable as he is in that state. Not to mention that keeping the fact that the Lord de Rolo, along with all his seven children, is a werewolf becomes significantly harder to hide when they remain that close to the castle.

So Percy piles food on his plate under his mother’s watchful eye. He slumps in on himself as he forces himself to eat. All around him, his siblings are rowdy. They always are before a full moon; even his father is playing into the antics more than usual. 

Johanna sighs and leans over to Percy, tucking his hair back. Percy forces himself not to pull away, he knows that makes his mother upset. “It’s just one night, Percival.”

“I know.” He bites into a piece of bacon. His mother sighs again and pulls away. 

When sunset comes, the whole family is waiting in a clearing in the woods. They go there every month, it’s just far enough outside the castle to not arouse suspicion. Percy sits on the grass, tugging his shoes off and setting them to the side. 

Cassandra and Ludwig are already wild, running and chasing each other through the clearing. His mother sits behind Whitney, braiding her hair back. Frederick comes over to Percy with a smile, “Are you ready, Percival?”

He sighs and allows his father to help him to his feet, “I suppose.” Frederick laughs as though Percy made a joke and squeezes the back of his neck. He guides Percy over to the rest of the family just as the sun begins to dip below the horizon.

The shift happens quickly. At his age, it no longer hurts, his bones and muscles move into place. When he blinks, he along with the rest of his family are wolves. Cassandra’s transformation still must hurt because she scampers over to their mother, whining as Johanna runs her fingers through her thick fur. 

continue reading on ao3

[analogwriting]

Childhood Crush

Chapter 12: Stainless

Killer x gn!reader word count: 3.7k a/n: I'M ALIIIIIIVE. anyway, this is a honker and kind of a catch all bc it's gloss over timeskip stuff. i can't tell you how many times i wrote the last part tho sdlkfj next

Settling in was so much easier than you thought it was going to be. You moved into the spare bedroom at Myra’s, Lily excitedly helping you unpack - and by unpack, she just took your things out and went through your stuff before setting it on the ground to grab the next thing to look at.

You didn’t mind though. Going from a rowdy ship to just a house with two other people was definitely a big change - so you welcomed the noise. You just listened as she idly chatted about nothing as kids typically did. It reminded you of your brother when he was younger. He would constantly talk about nothing for hours on end.

There was one day that he talked about Victoria for about four hours. It was a fond memory you had because of the relentless teasing, but it’s long since turned bittersweet because of her untimely demise. 

You didn’t just listen to your brother’s ramblings - since the boys were always at the house, you heard all of them ramble about something at one point or another. Still to this day, actually. Before everything had went downhill, Heat had come into your lab and started talking about a group of cats he had seen on the island you had all stopped at. He told you about how he had given each of them names and what they looked like. How they all even had their own personalities. 

It was rather adorable, honestly. They all still would come to your lab and drone on about something they had seen or just wanted to share with you. Like an excited child telling their parent. Then, usually, you told Killer when the both of you would be making dinner.

Thinking about those things, you were already missing them. You felt terrible with the way you left things off. You wished you could have gone back and just…not have shut down like you did but…it was too late now. 

Settling into work also went pretty smoothly. Everyone was incredibly nice - which it probably helped that Myra was the one that introduced you to everything. She was the head of the island, after all.

You had your own office space, which somewhat ended up as the Kid Pirates Museum. Your space was filled with different newspaper clippings. It didn’t matter who it was or if it was good or bad, all of it went on the walls. You were so proud of your brother for coming so far and making a name for himself.

However, you were worried about him. He seemed to be growing a bit reckless in his endeavors. He was going to end up biting off more than he could chew and that worried you. They all told you not to die on them, but really they needed to not die on you. You honestly wouldn’t forgive them. You already told yourself that you’d figure out a way to bring them back and then kill them yourself. 

It was only fair.

Eventually, you created something that improved your own life significantly. It seemed like a simple arm band that you had around your bicep. It connected with your nerves and you were able to gain full functionality of your arm again. It was something you had worked on the side for a while and now - it was complete.

With the full movements and feeling in your arm back, you started to train at the facility. You wanted to be able to regain your ability to fight. You wanted to be able to protect those you cared about once more. You wanted to feel useful again. You knew, logically, that there was plenty you could do even with your bum arm. You even proved that yourself time and time again, but it was just something that your head couldn’t wrap around.

If it had happened to anyone else, you would’ve told them what your brother and his friends told you. That it was okay, there was plenty of other things. Hell, you probably could’ve even learned how to fight with one arm. You heard that Shanks only had one arm and he fought just fine.

Though, he was a completely different ballgame than you. He didn’t count.

To test out your newly regained ability, you started to go out on field missions. There was a group of combat trained scientists that would sail out to various islands to gather materials and/or research. Some traveled far, some didn’t. You were with the latter. You stayed close to the island, you didn’t want anything that would take up too much time considering that you eventually wanted to go and find your brother again.

You proved to be able to hold your own once more. Fighting became a breeze to you once more, easily taking out several people in one go. Just as you used to be able to. 

When you returned from your most recent voyage, Lily and Myra greeted you at the dock. Lily ran up to you, immediately jumping in your arms. You laughed, holding her. “I missed you!” You grinned. “Missed you too, kiddo.” Fuck, it was going to suck when you had to leave for good.

Myra seemed to be pensive. There was a look of worry in her face. “What’s wrong, My?” you asked, setting Lily down as you walked over to her. She smiled, shaking her head. “We’ll talk later.” You narrowed your eyes at her. Something was wrong and you knew it. You left it for now, assuming that she didn’t want to talk about whatever it was in front of her daughter.

You decided not to pry, instead engaging in whatever Lily was prattling on about as you walked towards your temporary home with the two. You caught them up on your most recent mission and they caught you up on what you missed on the island - which wasn’t exactly much.

The entire day, Myra seemed on edge. Sure, she laughed and joked like normal, but you had a knack for reading people. You knew something was up, but you never said anything. At least not while Lily was awake.

Currently, it was after dinner and you were sitting on the couch, Lily fast asleep in your lap. Myra was sitting in an armchair adjacent to the couch. “So, you going to tell me what’s going on, My?” You looked at her and she seemed to stiffen. She looked at you for a moment before glancing down at Lily. She sighed softly, pulling a newspaper from the inside of her coat.

“Read this.” 

With a scrunch of your eyebrows, you took the paper, careful not to wake the little one. You read the headline and your heart immediately sank. You felt your blood run cold. Your brother had lost to Shanks and seemed to sustain grave, life threatening injuries. Panic began to rise in your chest as your grip on the paper tightened.

You felt yourself relax once you reached the end of the article. Eustass was in stable condition, going back to his usual antics. However, you did notice something. “He fucking lost his arm?” You stared at the paper before you started falling into silent laughter - mostly so you didn’t wake up Lily.

Myra looked at you - completely startled by your reaction. “I- Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. That’s just funny.” She looked at you like you had grown an extra head.

You set the paper down, looking at Myra. “I mean, he lost his arm and temporarily, so did I. Technically, without the bracelet, I still don’t have a fully functioning arm.” You chuckled. “Guess having two arms doesn’t run in the family. But at least between the two of us we have one good pair of arms.” Honestly, it was hysterical. 

“Oh man, I wonder which one it is. Because it would be so funny if it was the opposite of mine. Then we really do only have one good pair of arms.” You slowly calmed down, your laughter dying down as well. You took a deep breath. 

“I thought you’d be more upset,” Myra said slowly, still unsure how to gauge your reaction. You looked at her with a small smile. “Well, my brother is strong and can hold his own. Especially if his crew is with him. He’s going to be just fine. The article said he was stable and sailing again, so I’m sure he’s going to heal up just fine.” Sure, you were still worried about him.

���However.” Your face soured. “I am absolutely going to tear him a new one for fighting Shanks. I love my brother, yes, but that was the dumbest fucking move he could’ve made. He’s nowhere near ready to fight him.” What you wanted to know was why he tried to fight him. Did it just end up happening? Or did he seek him out? You had so many questions swimming through your head.

Myra let out a small laugh and you looked over at her. “Guess I was stressed about nothing. I was worried that the news would upset you.”

“Eh. My brother and I have been through our fair share of shit - I know him well enough to know he’ll be just fine.” Your expression changed to a deadpan one. “Until I get to him, I tell ya. I’m going to kick his ass.”

After that, you two fell back into normal conversation, eventually turning in for the night.

--

“You’re telling me I have to do fucking what?” 

Myra winced at your word choice. She still wasn’t accustomed to you cursing despite having lived with her the last year or so. You did well to not swear in front of Lily and other children, but adults were free game. You were a pirate, after all. Those words didn’t really hold meaning to you.

“You’re the only one fit for the job, y/n.”

You just stare at her from the chair you’re in. You’re currently in her office, her having called you in. There was apparently some really important plant they needed for some breakthrough but getting it was next to impossible. 

“You’re asking me to go on a suicide mission, Myra.” 

She sighed, shaking her head. “I think you’re more than capable. Besides, if you decide it’s too much, you can come back.”

“Can’t come back if I’m head.”

“Oh, come on.”

“No, you come on.” You groaned, putting your face in your hands. Were you ready for a mission like this? It was risky, but deep down, you knew you could do it.

“Besides, I heard your brother was last seen somewhere over there, so you can just send the flower back to us and go with your brother.” You looked at her, blinking. Eustass? 

“Eustass is around there?”

Myra nodded. “We all know that this place is not your home, y/n. You were going to go back eventually. It’s probably time.”

“Kicking me out?” You smirked and she rolled her eyes. “Oh shut it. You know what I mean.”

You laugh, sighing after a bit. “Fine. I’ll do it.” She grinned, nodding. “Good.”

Hoo boy, nothing could’ve prepared you for what you’d end up discovering, however.

--

“I got you something, y/n.” You looked up from checking your inventory. You were currently on the dock, getting things ready for departure. “It’s from me, too!” Lily chimed from beside her, holding up a box. You blinked, tucking your clipboard under your arm and taking the box.

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” you said with a small laugh.

“We know, but we wanted you to have something to remember us by,” Myra said with a small smile. She was never one to express large emotions. Quite the opposite of her own child who was currently beaming ear to ear. 

“You act like I’m never going to come back.” You shake your head as you open the box, missing the sad look on Myra’s face. 

When you open the box, you’re taken aback. You figured it would be some kind of book or something for taking notes, but it wasn’t anything studious at all. It was a large knife, like the one your crew had gifted to you. You carefully took it out of the box, admiring it. “Oh wow…”

It was a lot like the one you had already, only instead of the Kid Pirates’ jolly roger on it, it had the lab’s emblem on it. A soft, fond smile spread across your face and you felt tears welling up in your eyes.

“Y/n! Do you not like it?” Lily frowned, looking up at you. “We didn’t mean to make you cry!” You looked at Lily and laughed softly, shaking your head, ruffling her hair. “No, no. I love it. I’m just happy.” You attached it to your belt on the opposite side before picking up Lily and hugging her tightly. “Thanks, kiddo.”

Lily laughed and hugged you tightly. You looked at Myra over her shoulder and smiled. “Thank you, too, Myra.” The scientist just nodded, her own sad smile on her face. There was something she seemed to know that she wasn’t telling you, but you were going to leave it be for now.

--

Nothing about this mission was going to be easy. Get in Wano - already hard enough. Blend in - could be easy, could be hard. Somehow sneak into fucking Kaido’s castle - practically impossible. Get the flower - depending on where it is, could be impossible. Send it back or come back - that part could be easy.

You have no idea why you let Myra talk you into this, but you ended up agreeing to it. Saying goodbye fucking sucked. Since this was possibly the last time you would see anyone for a long time, it was a hard goodbye. Lily almost broke your heart in two when you said goodbye. She didn’t want you to leave in the slightest. You were like another parent to her now. You told her that you’d come see her again - that you’d write and call when you could.

This whole island was like your second family, but Myra was right. It was home to go home. You missed everyone. Not a day went by that you didn’t think about them.

You also had some unfinished business with a certain someone. You had some hands to throw.

Getting into Wano was pretty difficult, but you persisted. Going upstream was absolutely insane. Everything settled down after that. It completely wiped you out, trying to navigate all that. You narrowly avoided a whirlpool. Next thing you knew, you were on a beach.

You hid your boat, knowing that the people of Wano didn’t really take visitors. Which brought you to your next issue. Blending in. You made sure to keep hidden for the most part. After all, you stuck out like a sore thumb. You did at the lab too, but they didn’t care as much. It’s not like you were trying to blend in there.

You reached a small village, quickly spotting some clothes on a clothesline. Wasting no time, you snagged them off the line and changed. After, you continued forward, eventually ending up somewhere full of snow. Great. You were just glad that the clothes you had come across had a cloak that came with a hood and a mask you would wrap around the lower half of your face. 

How much more lost could you get? Why did you agree to this again? All for a flower? 

Ugh. Fuck.

It was cold - too cold. Snow began to fall and, soon enough, visibility was also shit. It was just warm not too long ago; what the hell was going on? And now you’re all turned around because everything looks the same due to the snow. You needed to find shelter - and soon. You didn’t realize you’d end up this lost in a winter hellscape or you would have prepared a bit better.

A sound suddenly tore through the air. It was enough to make you jump a bit. It sounded like some maniacal laugh from a bad guy - though a bit more haunting. It sent a shiver down your spine. Whatever the fuck that was - you wanted nothing to do with it. You were here for one thing and one thing only: that stupid fucking flower that you were really debating on whether or not it was worth it at this point.

As you were walking, you lost your footing, immediately taking a tumble and falling down some hillside. When your body decided to stop moving finally, after what was way too long and now you were way too cold, you found yourself in front of some woman and a child. They looked at you with fear in their eyes, both of them also sitting in the snow.

“Wh-” Before you could ask what was wrong, you felt someone behind you. You turned just in time to block the on coming attack with your own daggers. One from your brother and friends, the other from Myra. 

The assailant was a very large man with two very large scythes. Though, that’s not what startled you in the least. It was the cackle that erupted from him paired with the unnatural stretch of a hollow smile across his face. It sent a shiver down your spine.  That was definitely the laugh you heard - the one you wanted nothing to do with.

How the hell did you get into this situation again?

You pushed the swordsman off of you, sending him back a bit. “I’d get out of my way if I were you,” he warned. There was a familiar ring to his voice, but it was too distorted for you to place it. Besides, the damn guy wouldn’t really stop laughing either. That was also getting on your nerves. You already didn’t like the haunting sound of it.

You said nothing, only solidifying your stance to protect the woman and small child. You couldn’t help but be reminded of Myra and Lily when you saw them. “You guys get out of here,” you told them, glancing at them for a moment.

A moment too long because he used that to attack you. Your movements were delayed as you tried to block him again, only to fumble and he gave you quite the cut on your arm. If you lost another arm, you were going to lose it. Though, after pushing him back, you realized it just looked worse than it was. Nothing some clean up and stitches couldn’t help.

He seemed surprised that, even with your distraction, you were able to recover quite quickly. You ran at him this time, initiating an attack, surprising him further. You were able to knick him in the side and knock him backwards - you were on top of him, basically competing for strength at this point as you pressed your blades against his, trying to break his defense.

From this angle, you had a better look at his face. Or you would have had there not been bandages covering his features. His eyes though, they pierced right through your soul despite themselves looking soulless. They were a shade of blue that made them familiar, but the lack of life made it hard to pinpoint who it reminded you of. 

They did tell you everything you needed to know. This guy wasn’t in his right mind at all. Clearly some kind of brainwash of some kind. That didn’t explain the unnatural smile that didn’t reach the rest of his features, like his eyes, or the haunting and hollow cackle that erupted from him every once and a while.

Everything about this was weird.

Your thoughts were interrupted as he suddenly gained the upper hand. He had you pinned to the ground this time, his blade dangerously close to your neck. Fuck, you needed to out of this. You didn’t even want anything to do with this guy to begin with. He was clearly a level of unhinged that you didn’t want to mess with. With a quick glance around, you noticed the other two were gone. That was one less thing to worry about. It also didn’t help that your arm was currently throbbing from the laceration. Ugh.

You look back up at your assailant, noticing the look on his face seemed to change. Well, the look in his eyes. They faltered for a moment as they fell on your blade. The one your brother had gifted you. You used this moment to push him back, sending him off of you at least. It was, unfortunately, enough to knock him out of the trance it was in and he ran at you again.

What was that about? Why would your own knife make him falter like that? Though, his eyes lost that hollow look and…hold on. No fucking shot. There was no fucking shot that this was Killer. Contrary to his name, he wasn’t a complete mindless killing machine. He had least held some kind of emotion in his eyes, but…he also wasn’t really one to smile and laugh. Especially not like this.

Besides, your brother was nowhere to be found. This was just an uncanny valley and this was nothing more than a ghost - a glint of someone you missed. Nothing more.

But what if?

Fuck, now you wouldn’t be able to kill him even if you wanted to. Not with the possibility in your mind. After all, Myra did say your brother was reportedly in the area. But…what would Killer be doing here? Like that? Without Eustass? Ugh, your head was hurting from thinking about it.

The man in question was advancing on you once more and you solidified your stance - only to lose your footing and fall down yet another large hill. You descended rapidly, trying to stop yourself. You grabbed on to anything and everything, but nothing was strong enough to hold you or slow you down. 

When you reached the bottom, you groaned, slowly rolling over. You heard that laugh in the distance, echoing through the snow. Visibility was impossible at this point, so you had to make your escape now. You didn’t want to deal with the situation anymore. 

You stood up, heading off, finding a large log and crawling inside. You collapsed, completely winded. Your head was spinning and you felt yourself slowly losing consciousness. 

[machiot]

pas seul

“Child, why do you not frolic and dance with the other children?” 

A gaggle of children, making their own fun while their parents pray indoors, roughhouse with each other in the clearing in front of the church. Snow falls gently, creating clumps here and there, but it does little to distract the children from their games. If anything, it only excites them further. Childish voices squeal and giggle as snowflakes dissolve against their chilled skin. Holding hands, they spin in circles fast enough to make even onlookers dizzy. With their hands in one another's hands, they hardly seem to feel the cold at all even though they’ve been shut out from the warm church.

The question spoken by the priest is not directed toward them, though. It’s meant for the young girl sitting on the steps by herself. She is a pretty little thing, with big doll-like eyes and blonde hair that hangs over her shoulders as coiled ringlets. She sits alone at a distance from the other children, kicking her legs back and forth to keep herself warm on a frigid winter morning. Her frock, provided by the priests for the orphan under their charge, is speckled with blood; remnants of some sort of scuffle.

None of it is her own blood, of course. 

The girl jumps to her feet, tucking her freezing hands behind her back. Like a dog waiting for a treat, she looks up with sparkling eyes and barks out a line as if she’d been waiting to say it. 

“I’m not gonna waste my time with those pathetic weaklings, Father!” 

The priest smiles, eyes crinkling. He’d known the answer before he asked the question aloud, but to hear it is always satisfactory. He places his hand gently on the girl’s head and she giggles. Compared to how withdrawn she had been when she first arrived, it’s hard to tell this lively child had ever been anything but animated. Like a lone ballerina on an abandoned music box, she just needed to be taken in and have her crank wound up by someone who knew her value.

“Good girl,” the priest praises, patting the girl’s head. “Lord Sombron will surely reward your devotion once He is returned to us. You need not pay the other children any mind. They do not understand His intentions as well as you do.”

Rather than playing with the other children, the girl is much prettier when she dances alone. Putting her hand in another’s is a waste of her talents, a distraction from what could be. The twirl of an axe, the spray of crimson blood on snow, blonde ringlets bouncing with her steps; all of it is more beautiful when she’s dancing by herself. If someone else needs to be on stage with her, it should only be to wind her back up so that she may go longer. 

Faster. 

More brutal. 

Around and around, again and again until even onlookers are dizzy.

When the music finally stops, the only person whose approval she needs is the person who taught her the steps.

That is the whole reason she’d been asked to stand outside of mass today rather than join in like usual, after all. A reminder to an abandoned little girl that she’s different from all of those children that would return home with their parents after mass ends. When the crowds thin, all that will remain is the clergy and the girl under their care. It is pointless to desire more when everything she needs is right here. The other children will not welcome a rowdy and violent brat into their throngs, but the priests will welcome her with open arms. When her legs shake from the cold and the tips of her fingers begin to turn blue, they’ll open the doors wide and bring her back into the warmth.

“Marni,” the priest says. He puts his hand on her back, escorting her back through the grand doors of the chapel. “It is still early, but come, there is someone who wishes to be introduced to you. Be on your best behavior; she is favored by Lord Sombron. If all goes well, your position will rise significantly.”

The heavy door creaks shut behind the young girl and the priest walking hand in hand, drowning out the sound of children outside collapsing in a pile of giggles and claps.

Class Mastered: Dancer

[arcanaapprenticecatherine]

Something Lost, Something Gained

Part 5

Bast, my long lost familiar, my life friend, the magic shape-shifting black cat house pantheress. I was finally holding her, in the form of a small kitten, cradled in my one arm as I held back the onslaught of the demon courtiers with my energetic shield.

Asra and those who I assume to be his parents joined my force to protect the rest of our group. My Bast licked my hand clean of the Devil's goat blood. I willed my power into her and her magic responded to mine like joyful tidal waves crashing. Her fur glowed with the symbols of her origins, only she knows the meanings behind.

When she finished grooming my arm of the last bit of blood, she pawed at my chest and kissed my face, nibbling my jaw. Just like times of old. Tears weld up in my eyes. Asra and his parents had a look in their eyes as they knew how joyful coming back to your familiar is.

The inner circle of our group present, being Muriel, Julian, and Nadia, had looked at me with terror before but seeing me and Bast their faces changed. I imagine they all wanted to pet the cute kitten in my arms, not totally prepared for what she could do.

"Bast! Bast my darling! I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry..." I sobbed into her fur. She swatted me on the forehead to cut it out.

We have to save the others first!

Her mind connection with mine was significantly stronger and more sophisticated than my connection with Faust.

I bit my lip and nodded.

The floor beneath me began to shift, I looked down and realized to my horror we were falling through sand. All of us! All the banquet victims and the courtiers.

I looked over my shoulder to see the Devil still on the ground, still mortally wounded, but he had shifted and turned his hands like turning a sand timer.

The shield sank with us as everyone screamed and grabbed for each other. I trudged toward my friends, holding onto Bast for dear life. Not that I needed to, she had sunk her claws into my armor and skin.

We had just managed to reach each other as we dropped through.

Everything was dark, I felt the sand suffocating us.

"Not again. I will not yield."

I summoned all my power back to me and sent magic bursting forth, willing it to shape the sand as it will.

I was clinging to Bast when I realized I was sitting and the feeling of sand was just what was stuck to my skin. I felt the sun beating down on my back.

I opened my eyes. I was in the arena.

No, not I. We.

Bast was in my arms. She looked up and smiled at me with her golden eyes.

"We've got this," she started swishing her tail, ready to get rowdy.

I looked into the audience chairs in horror. All the banquet victims were locked in seats. I was on one end of the arena and I looked down at the other end.

The Devil, the Courtiers in their demon forms, and Lucio stood at the other end.

"This ends now," the Devil said calmly, despite his mortal wound on his throat.

The courtiers, except for Death, began to make their way towards us.

Their mistake.

I geared up in a matter of seconds, and Bast grew to her fullest form. The size of a Clydesdale horse, she allowed me up and on her back.

I raised my hands to the sky, asking my ancestors for help.

They sent the spear, carried down through the paternal side, and the double ax passed through the maternal side. I felt the ancient energies in the weapons in either hand.

I was riding Bast into battle with the ancient weapons of my people. I could only guess what face she was wearing. The glorious spear and the often surprisingly useful double ax spoke to me.

Kornag & Figeer.

The name of the double ax and spear, respectively.

"Thank you, my friends, for coming to my aid." I thanked them and nodded as a tiny bow in appreciation for them.

They gleamed. A trick of the light? No, more like an eye wink.

I noticed one of the courtiers scurry off. She looked like a hairless mole, she was shaking. I noticed the chains around her body.

"We'll spare her," I said aloud to my team.

I also noticed Lucio hanging back, his head lowered. The fuck is that about?

My eyes narrowed on the worm creature and the crab/lobster looking creature.

"No mercy," I breathed.

Old memory came back to my arms as I threw Figeer into the worm, spearing him immediately. He writhed as I flung Kornag, the movement of the ax resembling a boomerang, cutting off one of the crabs claws.

Kornag returned to me, and I summoned the spear back, ripping through the worm.

I heard screeching and "THAT DOES IT!"

I felt the grounds shift beneath Bast again as giant worms with rows and rows of teeth and horns emerged. I held onto the golden collar Bast decided to adorn as she leapt off one and onto the other, sinking her kitty teeth into the neck of one worm.

"MY BABIES!" I heard the worm demon scream. One of the giant worms knocked Bast and I down, me rolling off her. She was up again, with all the energy of a youthful kitten. She looked at me from the corner of her eye.

"I'm fine. Do your thing, Boo," I said as I turned towards the Courtiers themselves. She nodded and went after the giant worms.

No sooner than I had my shield up, using my heart center to power and cast it now, did the crab bring it's remaining appendages down on me.

"Quit hiding behind your shields!" It screamed.

"Alright," I said simply, shutting it off.

Simultaneously the crab brought it's other massive claw down, I brought Kornag up. The momentum of the appendage coming down on top of Kornag, in addition to Kornag's strength and extreme sharpness, severed the other claw.

The creature tumbled back, howling. It looked back, it's eyes aglow. It ran towards me, intending to use what remained of it's body to crush me.

I threw Kornag again, and planted Figreer into the ground, my shield covering myself.

Kornag lodged itself into the massive neck of the beast, not yet killing it. Yet it did spear itself onto Figreer. I watched the blood of the creature trickle down onto my energetic shield.

I heard cheering from the stands. I didn't dare look back to see, I waited. I summoned Kornag back to me, allowing it to pass through the shield seamlessly. I shot the shield and Figreer up to lift the weight of the creature off. Figreer pierced through the creature completely.

I summoned Figreer back to me and watched as the creature continued to wobble. It fell to the sand.

I wasn't convinced, and ran up to it and brought Kornag down on the remainder of it's neck, lopping off the head.

"Hey Bast, you like seafood, right?" I shouted to her.

"Come feast!"

Bast had battered the ferocious worms pretty badly. She didn't have a mark on her I noticed as she pranced up and sank her teeth into the crab or lobster meat. As she ate, I watched the remainder of enemies. They were regrouping as well.

I didn't like that. I heard the worm demon moan and cry on about it's offspring. The Devil looked pissed, but the one taking over Death's form... was painful to look at.

The one I said we would spare scurried over to me.

"Volta is sorry, so very sorry," the creature sobbed, "it was a terrible time of famine when the Devil came to me, offering eternal food -"

"And eternal starvation," I wrinkled my nose. But I knew, I could understand.

I kneeled down to her height.

"Would you like to be freed of your chains?"

"You can free Volta???" She shook with fear, eyeing the Devil.

I nodded, taking one of the chains.

I summoned the heat of the hearth, the heat of the blacksmiths fire to my hands. I winced at the pain, disrupting Bast's meal.

"Keep eating, you need strength!" I shouted to her. She didn't have to be told twice as she sunk her teeth in.

Finally, with the sound of chimes and glass breaking, the chain broke.

The remainder of the chain wrapped around her fell like sand as she reverted back to her human form.

"Volta is happy! So grateful! Thank you!"

"Stay behind us, they may try to target you," I instructed her. She nodded fiercely.

Bast returned, licking her chops. She was so much stronger, I could feel it in her aura.

Volta coward as Bast licked her, giving her approval of my work and of Volta's sincerity.

"Ready for round two, my friend?"

She lowered her body so I could climb back up again. I offered Volta up behind me.

I heard Asra shouting something. I nudged Bast to go up to his seat while I kept an eye on the worms and their friends.

"Your skin! Look! Your body is cracking!"

[startgamc]

Kotone's Pokemon Team [ Expanded ]

PALDEA

Kotone's main team throughout her journey to becoming a champion of Paldea.

✬ Meowscarada ♂

Ability: Overgrow Nature: Lax Tera type: Grass Moveset:

Flower Trick

Night Slash

U-Turn

Seed Bomb

Notes about Meowscarada: Her main partner, and lead of her team. Meowscarada has been with her since the start of her journey when she picked him up as a Sprigatito. He’s a rather mischievous type in the sense that he loves to watch the chaos that ensues after messing with the other Pokémon on her team. He’s very fast and is the first hurdle to really getting through her team. Despite his relaxed demeanor, he's a fierce and loyal partner and Kotone hardly goes anywhere without him. He's quite fond of snacks, and is easily won over with sour treats.

✬ Clodsire ♀

Ability: Water Absorb Nature: Modest Tera type: Ground Moveset:

Earthquake

Toxic Spikes

Amnesia

Sludge Wave

Notes about Clodsire: No thoughts, head empty. Clodsire has been on her team almost as long as Meowscarada has been. Kotone was very excited the first time she’d seen a Paldean Wooper after moving from Hoenn that she snatched her up pretty quickly. Clodsire is very chill and tires pretty quickly, but she’s the sweetest. She’d be a lap dog Pokémon if she could help it. Her high defense and high HP have turned her into a wall. Affectionately referred to by Kotone’s friends as the “War of Attrition”

✬ Lucario ♂

Ability: Inner Focus Nature: Quirky Tera type: Fighting Moveset:

Swords Dance

Meteor Mash

Dragon Pulse

Aura Sphere

Notes about Lucario: Riolu was a Pokémon that came to her rather unexpectedly after getting lost on her way to one of the gyms. He was the only one in the area and was quite lonely, though fairly defiant still. She battled and caught him and he’s been a loyal companion since. He’s the one that tends to keep the other, more rowdy Pokémon on her team in line. He’s quite strong and usually only gets brought out towards the end of a battle if she’s on the ropes (provided he doesn’t have a better type match up earlier). He's pretty un-trusting of other trainers and takes a while to warm up when introduced to strangers. Lucario much prefers the company of Kotone and her team of Pokémon.

✬ Ceruledge ♂

Nature: Lonely Ability: Flashfire Tera type: Fire Moveset:

Lava Plume

Bitter Blade

Shadow Claw

Psycho Cut

Notes about Ceruledge: As a Charcadet, he charged right at Kotone for a battle near the start of her journey and she caught him shortly after. He didn't initially trust her but over time he came around. He’s fiercely loyal and protective of her as his trainer. She evolved him into a Ceruledge about halfway through her journey and has come into his own quite well. He’s another fast fighter, and will drain your Pokemon of their HP before they know what hit them. Ceruledge has a hard outer shell and a soft heart. He has the hardest time getting along with Meowscarada not only due to their opposing types, but their opposing personalities as well.

✬ Espathra ♂

Nature: Naive Ability: Speed Boost Tera type: Psychic Moveset:

Lumina Crash

Psychic

Drill Peck

Dazzling Gleam

Notes about Espathra: Kotone picked up a Flittle after some of her earlier gym battles. Flittle struggled in Pokemon battles, constantly getting sweeped in fights before he had a chance to prove himself. Despite that, Kotone did not give up on the little guy and kept him around in the party, working on boosting his power at his own pace. Once Flittle evolved into an Espathra, he felt renewed confidence in himself and got significantly better at battling. He now more than makes up for his lack of defense with his speed and high special attack. He’s also become a bit of troublemaker, as he will be the first on her team to pick a fight at any opportunity. He doesn't know much about restraint and tends to stare down other trainers and pokemon with an unsettling look in his eyes. It's almost as if he's making up for the times he was bullied by other Pokémon by going for blood...

✬ Baxcalibur ♂

Nature: Timid Ability: Thermal Exchange Tera type: Water Moveset:

Icicle Crash

Dragon Claw

Focus Energy

Ice Beam

Notes about Baxcalibur: This is another Pokémon that she raised from his first evo. Kotone was instantly smitten with the (kinda derpy looking) Frigibax she found on her way to Larry’s gym. She had an instant connection with him and was very impressed by how quickly he wanted to prove himself on the team. She had no idea he would turn into such a big guy, but he’s as sweet as he was when she caught him. A gentle giant outside of battle. Raw strength is what he excels best in. Though he wants to prove himself to Kotone, he's the least interested in battles with other Pokémon. His great size and intimidating stature is enough to keep most others at bay.

KITAKAMI

The Team Kotone trained and raised during her time in Kitakami. They serve as her secondary team when she needs to give her main team a break.

✬ Zoroark ♂

Nature: Rash Ability: Illusion Tera type: Dark Moveset:

Happy Hour

Bitter Malice

Nasty Plot

Tera Blast

Notes about Zoroark: Prior to traveling to Kitakami, Kotone was gifted Zoroark. She made the decision then to focus on raising it in this new region as a challenge to herself and to see what she could do without relying on the team that has already won her a spot among the Paldea champions. Zoroark is a trickster by nature, of course, and can come off rather stand off-ish. However, if it's playing pranks on you, that means that it likes you. Most people are off-put by the appearance of this variant of Zoroark, and maybe that's why Kotone is drawn to him as a partner Pokémon.

✬ Mightyena ♀

Nature: Hardy Ability: Intimidate Tera Type: Dark Moveset:

Ice Fang

Fire Fang

Yawn

Play Rough

Notes about Mightyena: Poochyena was Kotone's first encounter when exploring Kitakami, and her eyes immediately lit up to see such a familiar Pokémon from her home region. Mightyena seems a lot meaner than she is, and when most aren't paying attention, she seeks out love and affection from Kotone. She responds well to positive reinforcement and treats that Kotone is eager to give to her. That said, any negative intention towards her trainer is met with immediate hostility. Watch your ankles because she will bite them.

✬ Quagsire ♂

Nature: Hardy Ability: Damp Tera type: Ground Moveset:

Muddy Water

Amnesia

Sludge Bomb

Earthquake

Notes about Quagsire: Yes Kotone has a Clodsire already. But she simply could not resist the big smile of the Wooper just outside of Mossui. Quagsire is equally as chill as Clodsire, but with a much more vested interest in battling. Though slow, he makes up for his lack of speed in how solidly he's built. He takes hits and hardly budges an inch. When all is said and done, he likes to reward himself with a nap. He's the first to pass out at the end of battle.

✬ Yanmega ♂ [ Shiny ]

Nature: Adamant Ability: Tinted Lens Tera type: Bug Moveset:

Giga Drain

Bug Buzz

Ancient Power

Air Slash

Notes about Yanmega: The shiny Yanma that Kotone encountered within the first hour of being in the Kitakami region seemed like a good sign of how the trip would go. Kotone isn't fussed about finding shiny Pokémon most of the time, so the fact that she stumbled on this was a nice surprise. Yanmega is surprisingly among the most expressive of this team. What he lacks in facial features, he makes up for in body language. Honestly he's a bit of a drama queen and can be quick to anger. He's always up for a good battle.

✬ Furret ♂

Nature: Sassy Ability: Keen Eye Tera type: Normal Moveset:

Amnesia

Thunder Punch

Focus Punch

Hyper Voice

Notes about Furret: Kotone's Furret is all vibes. The moment their eyes locked, Kotone threw her pokéball and Sentrey didn't even put up a fight. Whenever Kotone is out walking, she usually lets Furret out in order to keep her company. Furret is very curious and runs ahead in the grass bringing back all kinds of shiny objects, something Kotone appreciates. Furret is a speedly little pokemon in battle and is usually bale to get a couple hard punches in before retreating back to Kotone's side. He's not the most competitive Pokémon

✬ Mienshao ♀

Nature: Mild Ability: Inner Focus Tera type: Fighting Moveset:

Aura Sphere

Bounce

Calm Mind

High Jump Kick

Notes about Mienshao: When initially caught, Mienfoo was a bit on the shy side, and has maintained that energy into her evolution. She keeps to herself, and doesn't engage much with other Pokémon or trainers. However, when in battle, it's as if she turns into an entirely different mon. She's fierce and powerful and holds nothing back against her opponents, coming into her own when a fight begins. Admittedly Kotone kinda spoils her, because she wants Mienshao to come out of her shell more and engage with the rest of her team. However, she's not going to push it. All good things in time, as they say.

[randomfandomarts]

Chapter 2

Here's Chapter 2 of my fic with Glamrock Freddy which I titled, Lost and Found! Hope you guys like!!

Up above The brightly-lit attraction, Fazer-blast, In a secret room... There stood Vanessa, holding her mask. The dim purple light above, buzzing quietly. She brushed away strands from her messy blonde mane away from her face, as she stood, looking distressed.

"YOU HAD THE GIRL IN YOUR GRASP!! AND YOU LET HER GET AWAY!?`"

Glitchtrap's intense voice shouted through the small room. The shrill of it all sent her afraid, delivering a slight headache. She couldn't seem to have found her voice to speak, and instead was trembling still. Her head ached, and her heart was pounding against her chest. She looked down to the floor, too afraid to look up. Finally she looked up a bit, and spoke, in a frail, yet stern voice.

"I-I tried... But one of the animatronics was coming near. I had no time..."

She frowned. Fear filling her eyes, she looked down to the ground again, fiddling with the mask in her hands. Glitchtrap groaned aloud, slowly becoming angered again.

"You had ENOUGH time to finish it! But instead you STALLED, and by now that girl has probably left!"

His fury echoed across the room. Vanessa idled, still afraid to look up at Glitchtrap.

"Please..." She began pleading, approaching him slowly. "There must be something I can do to fix this... Give me another chance..."

Again Glitchtrap groaned, and then sighed, slightly calming himself. "Perhaps there is another way of how we can get what we want..." Vanessa eyes fixed on Glitchtrap as he strolled towards a old desk, filled with crunched up paper and trash; Dust coating it all.

"To do that, we must first remove all the pieces blocking our way..."

He grabbed a piece of paper from the desk, crunching it in his palm. An evil grin began to grow on his face.

"And by that, I mean one specific IMPORTANT piece..."

Vanessa Frowned.

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

Freddy continued to walk through the cold and musty tunnels with the girl in his arms, the sound of silence filling the place. Small sniffles escaped from her. She seemed to have calm down significantly since he found her, but he could still feel her heart rate was the same. He blinked away the notification from his HUD and glanced at the girl.

"I do not believe I know your name, who are you?"

The little girl looked up at Freddy. "I'm Ella..." Freddy ears wiggled slightly as he smiled gently. "Ella? That is a lovely name dear. Now, do not worry, we will find your mother, alright?"

Ella nods and they soon both exit the utility tunnels and enter Rockstar row. She blinks a few times as she adjusts her eyes to the colorful neon lights around the place. Freddy carefully continues passing through, avoiding the large crowds before some children spot him. He manages to slip through unnoticed.

"Ella, where was the last place you saw your mother?" Freddy asks.

"Near the main stage... It was very crowded, and that's how me and my mother got lost..." A wave of sadness washed over Ella. The thought of that memory made her miss her mother even more.

Freddy seemed to notice this, and gave a warm smile. "Now, we will find her, dear. Do not worry."

After a while, Freddy and Ella finally arrived to the main atrium. The place seemed much more crowded than most other places in the pizzaplex. Children and their parents were scattered all around, and half soon flocked to Freddy. He gently set Ella down, before being surrounded by children. A frazzled staff member soon pushed through the huddle of rowdy children approaching Freddy.

"Freddy, you're due at a birthday party in Party room 2", the staff member informed him, his voice displaying a hint of urgency and exhaustion.

"Oh dear..." Freddy then kneeled down to Ella's eye level. "Ella, I apologize... but I am afraid I am needed somewhere..."

Ella's eyes were filled with concern. "But... what about my mother?" she asked, her voice on the verge of tears. Freddy thought for a moment. His eyes eventually lighted up with an idea. He gently tapped the shoulder of the staff member. "Pardon me, but perhaps you can locate Officer Vanessa to help this young girl locate her mother?" he said with a polite tone.

The staff member lifted up his weary eyes to Freddy's kind smile. He then gave a slow nod.

Freddy knelt down to Ella. "Now Ella, this staff member will find Officer Vanessa, and she will help find your mother, alright?" Freddy said warmly, looking down at Ella with gentle eyes. She nodded in response, and then hugged his leg tightly. "Thank you..." she whispered, which only he was able to hear.

Freddy wrapped his arms around Ella and returned her hug, before eventually leaving and waving goodbye to her. The staff member reached for Ella's hand and grasped it, before dragging her along with him to find Officer Vanessa.

[animeloverskylarmoon]

Minato Namikaze - Short Story AU: Chapter 3

The following week, there was a bit more ease as you continued with your lesson.

Your three trouble makers seemed a lot less rowdy.

Probably due to fear.

When you asked Sora to share out the papers, you could tell he was a bit reluctant, but he did it anyway. When he brought the remainder to the desk, you smiled, giving him a soft pat on the head.

“Good job, Sora-san.”

His cheeks flushed and he looked away, with a mutter.

“W-Whatever.”

Despite his words, you could tell that the praise had made him happy.

As it turns out, all you needed to do was adjust your teaching style and break down the harder equations carefully.

The following afternoon you were a bit surprised that all three of them were seated when you walked in without your threats of encouragement. Their books were out, and Sora was looking off to the side, avoiding eye contact.

“Hurry up and start our make-up lessons, will ya Senju-Sensei.”

His cheeks were a bit flushed and you squealed happily as you ran to his side hugging him.

“Kya! You’re secretly a Tsundere aren’t you Sora-san!! I love teaching!!”

He spent the better part of five minutes trying to push you off him.

You were more than grateful for the progress.

Over the course of a month, all three of them had improved their grades significantly. Sora had lifted his paper after the return of a quiz wearing a confident smile.

“Keh, look at this! I scored 80 points.”

He was boasting, and both Naruto and Kiba were at his side, praising him as a few other students laughed at the bows and applause the trio did. You were smiling the entire time. There was nothing more fulfilling to you than a student who was proud of his improvements, regardless of how small.

As luck would have it, they’d started to steer clear of after school gang activity.

“Apparently Sora hasn’t gotten into any fights recently. My friend at the neighboring school said it’s been quiet." Asuma informed.

You just grinned.

“No need to thank me, my superior teaching skills have struck again.”

You’re happy to boast and they expect it. It’s funny how it all seemed to work out.

Every day that passed, you could see the increasing improvements. When you heard Sora was in the running with the one of the smartest kids in your class, you couldn’t help but praise him.

“As expected of my star student!!”

You’d spend the better part of the morning session hugging him as he tried to escape.

“L-Let me go you old hag!!”

The entire class laughed at your antics.

It was nice to see your students succeed. One evening you’d been packing up when you ran into Minato. You couldn't help yourself, you needed to talk up your student.

“Did you hear Namikaze-san? Sora is the third smartest in the school.”

You were proud and he just smiled.

“I heard. Good job Senju-san.”

For some reason that made you embarrassed.

“D-Don’t you patronize me!! I'll make him the smartest in the nation, just you watch!!”

You declared pointing at him, taking off in a sprint shortly after. Minato simply watched with a little smile.

Yes, you’d succeeded.

You supposed you should have known it was going a bit too smoothly, because the ruckus in front of the school the next morning was not what you expected.

For a moment you weren’t sure what to think, but when you saw Sora and Naruto standing protectively in front of Hinata, it became clear that something had happened.

The uniforms of the students they were facing off were from a rival school.

“Beat it before we give you something to talk about!!” Sora threatened.

You could tell they wanted to retaliate, but the minute they saw not just you, but a few other teachers begin to come out, they retreated.

“This isn’t over.”

That was all that was said before they were leaving. You moved to Hinata’s side.

“Are you alright?”

She nodded.

“Hai, S-Sora-san and N-Naruto-kun protected me.”

Sora just folded his arms with a huff.

“It’s cowardly to pick on girls.”

You meant to point out that he’d done the same a few weeks back, but decided against it, laughing to yourself. The fact that he was now defending his classmates was nice.

“Kya!! You’re such a good student Sora-san!!”

You were once again smothering him in a hug as he fought to get free.

At this point they were all used to it.

[officevalle]

Breaking Records: Exploring the Highest Views in YouTube in India

In the ever-expanding digital era, YouTube has become more than just a platform for video sharing. It is now a global stage for music, entertainment, and culture. India, with its diverse musical and cinematic heritage, has witnessed several videos achieving astronomical view counts. Songs, trailers, and regional hits have broken records, reaching millions and even billions of views. This article explores the phenomenon of the highest views in YouTube in India and the factors contributing to these milestones.

The Evolution of Indian Content on YouTube

When YouTube first entered the Indian market, its growth was modest. However, the introduction of affordable internet services like Jio revolutionized access, especially in rural areas. This digital transformation made India one of YouTube’s largest consumer bases. The platform quickly became a hub for Bollywood songs, regional music, and independent artists, paving the way for viral sensations.

From romantic melodies to upbeat dance numbers, the diversity of Indian music has always attracted viewers. Music streaming services complemented this trend by integrating YouTube links for popular tracks, further boosting their visibility.

Record-Breaking Songs and Videos

Indian content creators have consistently broken records, with music videos often leading the charge. The 2018 release of “Laung Laachi” was a game-changer, becoming one of the most-watched videos in India. Other hits, such as "Rowdy Baby" from Tamil cinema, captivated audiences across linguistic barriers.

The following are some iconic Indian videos that have achieved record-breaking view counts:

T-Series’ dominance: T-Series, India’s largest music label, consistently produces chart-topping songs that amass billions of views. The company’s focus on quality production and audience engagement has helped it maintain its lead.

Independent artists on the rise: Alongside big production houses, independent creators are also garnering attention. With platforms like YouTube and tools like Shazam music finder, these artists can reach audiences who appreciate unique and experimental music.

Factors Contributing to High View Counts

1. Cultural Relevance

Indian content often resonates deeply with local audiences, thanks to its connection to festivals, weddings, and other celebrations. Songs like “Lungi Dance” and “Why This Kolaveri Di” became instant hits due to their cultural relatability.

2. Technology and Accessibility

The widespread use of smartphones and affordable data plans has brought YouTube to every corner of the country. Even remote areas now have access to the latest music and videos, increasing viewership significantly. Platforms like the Saregama app also contribute by integrating trending songs.

3. Collaborations and Star Power

Indian music videos often feature Bollywood stars, adding to their mass appeal. Collaborations between international and local artists also play a role in attracting diverse audiences.

4. Social Media Virality

YouTube is not an isolated platform; its content thrives on social media shares. Viral challenges, memes, and fan-made videos amplify the reach of songs and trailers, boosting view counts organically.

Sana Music Director: A Rising Star in the Industry

Among the contributors to this digital phenomenon is Sana music director, a name synonymous with fresh and innovative compositions. Sana’s work blends traditional Indian elements with modern beats, appealing to both older and younger generations. The director’s ability to create chartbusters that trend across YouTube highlights the power of creativity in achieving digital success.

YouTube as a Gateway to Global Recognition

While India is a massive market in itself, YouTube also serves as a gateway for Indian content to reach international audiences. Songs from movies like "Baahubali" and "RRR" have crossed cultural and linguistic boundaries, becoming global sensations.

These milestones are not just about numbers—they represent India’s growing influence on the global stage. The recognition of Indian music abroad further emphasizes the importance of platforms like YouTube and music streaming services in promoting local talent worldwide.

The Role of Fans in Setting Records

Fan communities play a significant role in driving view counts. Die-hard fans of celebrities like Shah Rukh Khan, Prabhas, and Deepika Padukone often mobilize to ensure their idols’ content breaks records. Hashtags, watch parties, and dedicated playlists are just a few ways fans contribute to the success of videos.

The Future of Record-Breaking Content

The Indian YouTube scene shows no signs of slowing down. As the platform continues to innovate with features like shorts and live streams, creators have even more opportunities to engage audiences. Moreover, the integration of AI-driven tools like the Shazam music finder ensures that music discovery remains seamless and enjoyable.

With an ever-growing user base and advancements in video production, the potential for Indian content to set new records is limitless.

Conclusion

Indian content has carved a niche for itself in the global digital landscape, with videos achieving record-breaking views on YouTube. The factors driving this success—cultural relevance, technology, and creative talent—highlight the platform’s role in shaping the future of entertainment.

As we celebrate the milestones achieved, one question remains: What’s next? With creators like Sana music director and platforms like the Saregama app leading the way, the possibilities are endless.

What do you think will be the next big hit on YouTube from India? Share your predictions in the comments below!

[mh258258-blog]

The Ivy League Canine Academy: Tailored Dog Training Programs in San Antonio, TX

Dog Training San Antonio TX: Located in the center of Texas, The Ivy League Canine Academy in San is known as the leading area for dog training and behavior improvement. Our focus is on using specialized training programs customized to each dog and owner. Highlighting favorable support and a deep understanding of canine habits, we are firm followers in the idea that any dog can transform into a well-behaved buddy. At The Ivy League Canine Academy, we boast a group of skilled trainers, each bringing a wealth of experience and an enthusiasm for canine education. Our trainers are not only skilled in various training methods but likewise committed to fostering strong bonds in between dogs and their owners. Whether you have a rowdy young puppy in need of standard obedience or a seasoned adult dog dealing with behavioral difficulties, our tailored programs are created to fulfill your particular goals. The training facility we provide is modern and includes innovative training spaces for indoor and outside practice to reproduce real-life scenarios. This interactive method assurances reliable discovering for dogs, all while making the procedure pleasurable. Along with our neighborhood of encouraging dog lovers, we cultivate a favorable environment that motivates both pets and their owners, making the training journey a collective and fulfilling one. Join us at The Ivy League Canine Academy, where your dog's improvement starts with expert assistance, personalized attention, and a dedication to quality. Together, we will open your canine buddy's true capacity and help them prosper as a cherished member of your family.

Why Training Your Dog is Vital

At The Ivy League Canine Academy located in San Antonio, Texas, we dog training is more than simply teaching your furry friend standard commands. It plays an important role in developing a and preserving a peaceful connection in between you and your canine companion. Our focus is on supplying training that enhances your dog's lifestyle and promotes their general joy and health. A trained dog is a happy dog. Training supplies psychological stimulation that assists to reduce boredom and anxiety, which can cause damaging habits if left unattended. Dogs are naturally social creatures, and training helps them find out how to communicate appropriately with humans and other animals. This can significantly improve their self-confidence and security in various environments, from hectic parks to peaceful homes. Furthermore, adequate training is important for preserving security. Advising your dog on basic commands such as "sit," "stay," avoiding prospective risks, whether it involves preventing them from darting into the street or stopping them from jumping on visitors. A trained dog is simpler to deal with and boosts the total experience of having them as a companion, leading to more satisfying family excursions and gatherings for all individuals. At the Ivy League Canine Academy, experienced instructors use positive reinforcement methods to make sure your dog's training is pleasurable. By focusing on both habits correction and improving the relationship between you and your pet, we develop a basis of trust and shared esteem. Throughout our training classes, your dog will obtain crucial capabilities in an entertaining manner, leading to an interactive and effective learning experience. By devoting effort and time to training your dog, you are not only contributing their joy however likewise ensuring your own harmony. With correct direction and devotion, you have the chance to mold your furry friend into a polite and obedient part of your family, prepared to face obstacles alongside you.

Summary of Training Strategies Used at The Ivy League Canine Academy

The training techniques at The Ivy League Canine Academy are diverse and customized to fulfill the specific needs of each dog. Our competent trainers utilize a range of methods to provide a comprehensive and effective training program for our canine good friends. Among the fundamental strategies used at the academy is positive support. This method encourages preferred behaviors by rewarding your dog with treats, appreciation, or playtime, producing a strong association in between etiquette and positive results. This not just improves knowing but likewise enhances the bond in between you and your dog, promoting trust and self-confidence. We use clicker training together with favorable reinforcement in our program. Remote control training involves using a specific sound, the clicker, to indicate when your dog does a desired habits, then rewarding them. This method is great for helping dogs learn new commands and habits, as it allows clear communication with your animal. Socializing is another crucial aspect of our training viewpoint. At The Ivy League Canine Academy, we comprehend that a well-rounded dog is a happy dog. Our socializing exercises expose your pet to different environments, people, and other animals, helping them establish the confidence and abilities essential to browse the world. Whether through group classes or specially developed socialization occasions, we ensure your dog is comfortable and well-adjusted. We supply tailored training programs for people wanting to attend to particular behavioral problems like stress and anxiety, aggression, or extreme barking. Our trainers team up with you to pinpoint the underlying issue and produce a special technique using approaches that encourage favorable change and sustained outcomes. Our main goal at The Ivy League Canine Academy is to assist your dog end up being well-mannered, fearless, and material as a part of your household. Through a mix of favorable reinforcement, clicker training, socialization, and tailored programs, we offer the expert help and encouragement required for you to see lasting improvements. Start the course towards a more tranquil bond with your canine companion today!

Customized Training Programs for Different Breeds

At The Ivy League Canine Academy in San Antonio, TX, we understand that every dog is unique, not only in personality but also in breed attributes and characters. This is why our training programs are diligently customized to fulfill the specific requirements of different breeds, guaranteeing effective interaction and learning. Whether you have a spirited Jack Russell Terrier, a dignified Excellent Dane, or a mild Labrador Retriever, our expert trainers put in the time to examine your canine buddy's traits and design a program that resonates with their natural instincts and habits. Our programs use a mix of workouts and psychological jobs to keep high-energy breeds like Border Collies and Australian Shepherds mindful. We use positive reinforcement approaches that use their intelligence and work drive, guaranteeing training is both efficient and fun. On the other hand, with calmer breeds like Bulldogs and Basset Hounds, we focus on being patient and providing mild instructions, utilizing techniques that match more relaxed nature while still motivating finding out and good behavior. Additionally, our customized training goes beyond teaching fundamental guidelines; we likewise tackle particular behavioral obstacles that can result from type attributes, like persistent barking in Beagles or obstinacy in Dachshunds. Through acknowledging these subtleties, we offer our consumers with the abilities and details required to handle their dogs successfully, promoting a well balanced connection based on trust and appreciation. At The Ivy League Canine Academy, we believe that every dog is worthy of a training experience that honors their individuality. Join us in changing your canine buddy into a well-mannered family member, ready to tackle the world with self-confidence and grace. With our breed-specific approach, you can rest assured that you are providing your furry friend the best training possible.

[gay-for-the-snz]

Day 2: Too Much of a Good Thing/Overindulgence (M, unspecified)

Elliott and co. at their office Christmas party, enjoying the time and company that they've got. This one was really nice to write, and I had a lot of fun with it. People are drunk, if that's something you don't wanna read. Slightly implied cold, but not explicit. 3.3k

⁂

The office Christmas party is in full swing when he swaggers in, a wrapped gift tucked beneath one arm. The invite said it was starting at seven, but here at six forty-five people are already congregated and getting somewhat rowdy with it. Evidently the open bar is the only thing that can get people chronically late to show up early enough to imbibe.

"Captain!"

The man in question is at the center of the throng, dressed in a cabled red sweater that, with the hat and beard, makes him a fairly spitting image of a more casual Santa Claus. "Ah, there you are, son!" The crowd parts enough for him to get through them and pull Elliott into a hug that threatens to take him off his feet from the vigor of it. "You look chilly."

"Oh, this? I'm sure I'll be fine--it's just a short walk to the bus stop, and I thought it looked nice." And he does! At least, he likes to think he does. It's more daring than what he usually wears, a red halter top that plunges to expose most of the curve of his spine, the breadth of his shoulder blades, the graceful length of his arms; he thinks it's rather flattering, even without any cleavage to fill it out in a way that it was designed for.

"You're going to freeze to death, and I'll be sad to see it happen and get the call in the morning that there was a handsome popsicle found outside the bar." He shrugs, emphatically, and takes a sip of his drink. "If you die, they won't let us rent it again next year for our party."

"I'm surprised they let us after last year--"

"Shh!" He pulls him close around the shoulders, hunching him over to speak lowly enough to keep the conversation between them only. "Keep your mouth shut, I think they forgot that that was our group, and I'm not risking them remembering and kicking us out early."

"Oh! Er, right. And, you know, that probably wouldn't happen again anyway, I heard that he and his wife are in a better spot and are working through their differences--"

"Ah ah! What did I say? Zipped."

Elliott mimes the motion and tosses away the key, and this seems to satisfy the Captain enough for him to let him go with a thump on the back.

"Good man!" He glances over Elliott's shoulder, and at the present in his arms. "You came alone?"

"Oh--er, yeah, it's just me this year! Everyone else was working, or busy, and I didn't want to, uh, drag anyone out just to come to a party with my coworkers, you know?"

"I suppose so. You're going to behave with nobody to keep you in line?"

"Oh, Captain! You insult me! I'm not the-the partying type, you know that!"

The Captain gives him a skeptical look, but drops the subject. "Alright, alright. Well, go on and get yourself something. We won't be doing the gift exchange until eight or eight thirty, so make merry until then."

Nothing sounds nicer than a drink and mingling, so he deposits his gift on the table with all the others, each one in a different paper, some wrapped significantly better than others. He politely pretends that the one shaped suspiciously like a bottle of wine escapes his notice. The instructions had been "discreet" packaging, but some were, perhaps, a little more diligent about this aspect than others had been.

But! That doesn't matter when he's got a party to get partying at, and since he's the only person not having any fun yet, and the newest arrival to boot, he finds himself being descended upon by coworkers like a flock of seagulls upon a single french fry in a parking lot. People from other shifts that he recognizes mostly from all company meetings, or from previous years' parties, or from days he's filled in. People from his own shift, who are much happier than the other lot to see him.

Niklas, the great old beast of a man that he is, has no trouble cutting through the little welcome party to just heft him up and affectionately throw him over one shoulder to carry him off across the room. They watch him as he goes, accepting a pleasant, "okay, bye!" with his exit.

He's deposited onto a mostly comfortable armchair next to one of the pool tables, the low loveseat beside it occupied by Niklas's brother. Behind him, Bolormaa and Erdeni are potentially the first two people to ever actually play a game on this table, judging by how pristine the felt looks. He's never been any good at pool, but he's thankful that it doesn't look like they're looking to add a player right now.

"Felix! It's good to see you! What brings you into town?"

He isn't quite as tall or broad as his brother, and though he's definitely older by a few years, he still retains a fair amount of red in his hair that hasn't washed out with the rest of the grey. He takes the offered hand to shake. "Elliott! It's good to see, too. I swear you've gotten taller since I saw you last. What was it, a few years ago?"

"Gosh, it's got to have been at least three or four, I think. You were here for Warren's, what, fifth grade commencement? That was four and a half years ago."

"Christ above, was it really that long?"

"I'm the parent of a high schooler, now."

"Oh, stop! You're making me feel old!"

Niklas leans over and elbows him. "That's because you are old."

"Right, and you're still a spring chicken."

Elliott grins at the pair of them, and is surprised by someone nudging his shoulder. The Captain pressed a glass into his hand, warm and sweet smelling. "Mulled wine," he says by way of explanation. "It's good stuff, local grown by some winery or another. There's a little sign next to the bar if you're actually curious. If you'll excuse me, I see empty glasses out there, and that's unacceptable as a host. Eat, drink, be merry, and all that."

"Thank you, Captain!" It's nice and warm in his hands, and he just holds it for a second to savor the feeling of heat seeping into him. He's more chilly than he realized, now that he has the heat of a drink to remind him of it, and finds himself sniffling a bit in response to the steam. "Uhm, Felix, you were saying...?"

"Ahh, no, don't worry about us having our little squabble. Have your drink." Despite bidding him to not participate in the conversation, he addresses a question to him directly just seconds later. "You're still single, then?"

He nearly chokes on his drink, holds a hand under himself in the off chance he actually spills any of it. "Oh!"

He receives two elbows to the back and shoulder and incredulous looks to go with them from Niklas and Bolormaa. "Dude?"

"No, no, it's okay! He can ask! I, uh--sort of. I'm--well, I'm s-sort of seeing someone, and it--uh, I don't know if we want to really put a label on it yet--"

"Ohhh, I see what you're saying. You sly dog, you. What do the kids call it now, a booty call?"

"DUDE?" He's half convinced that Bolormaa is about to actually take up his pool stick in defense of his honor.

He laughs, some startled, breathy thing as all the blood in his body rushes to his face, red clean through to his ears. "Unfortunately for him, the only 'benefit' to our friendship is that sometimes I cook dinner when he's over." He glances at his cup, and opts to drink the rest of it as fast as possible. "I think I'd like to talk about something else."

"Alright, I can take a hint!" Felix leans away from the menacingly raised pool stick, even as Erdeni pries it from her wife's hand.

"We really don't want to be the ones that get us banned from her for real, do we?"

He doesn't, relenting enough to let her take it away from him and set it back in the rack of cues mounted to the wall, but he makes sure to sigh dramatically so that everyone is aware of his displeasure at this.

Niklas hands over his still mostly full glass--though it's cooled nearly to room temp, in comparison to the warmth of the previous one--and Elliott accepts it gratefully as an excuse to not have to talk for a minute. The conversation slowly rolls away from him, and he relaxes in the knowledge that it doesn't require his attention as of yet.

He's vaguely aware that his nose itches, but it's nothing that demands his attention just yet, aside from the increasing frequency of the sniffles as he deals with the new effort from his nose--and the fact that it isn't as warm in here, even with all the bodies, as he'd expect--to start dripping. The cocktail napkin that came with his first drink makes a valiant effort, but it doesn't take a terribly long time before he's starting to think about needing to go grab another. Or, really, to go grab a stack of them, since he knows it'll be an ongoing thing.

Wine always makes him itchy, but there's really nothing to be done for it. And, besides, it gives him an excuse to stand up and stretch his legs. "I'll be right back, does anyone want anything while I'm up?"

A chorus of "I'll take one"s meets him, and so he sets off to grab five drinks. He's carried more before, but he's far from a waiter, and as thankful as he is that that was never one of his past jobs, he kind of wishes it had been to give him an edge in managing an array of glasses tucked into his arms as he navigates his back carefully back towards the group. The stack of napkins he's tucked into his pocket to wait for later are calling to him as he sniffles more aggressively than he'd really like to be doing, drawing looks from coworkers as he passes by them.

He's nearly begging them to take their drinks from him when he gets back, scarcely able to set his own down before he whips aside into steepled hands for what promises to be the first of many sneezes of this evening. "h-hHYISSHHuu! 'SSHHue!"

"Bless you!"

"Uh oh, now that he's started, I don't know that he's going to be stopping."

"Bless you, sweetie."

His cheeks are rosy from more than just the alcohol when he straightens up with a sniffle, and wipes his hands off on his pants, aware of how thin the fabric is when he can feel the heat of his skin--and the moisture on it--through them. "Excuse me, thank you." He sniffs again, takes one of the napkins to dab away the excess, and sniffs again, just for good measure. "Sorry, you know how it is with wine."

"Bolkaa, didn't your aunt react that way?"

"No, she does that with chocolate."

Niklas leans into the conversation from where he'd been lining up a shot, evidently having joined their pool game. "Our roommate years ago used to do that with mints. Felix, do you remember him?"

"Yeah, Andy. Couldn't offer him a breath mint without spending the whole time it dissolved listening to him sneeze from it."

"Okay, well," Elliott laughs, embarrassed that he seems to have sparked such a conversation, "then you know this will be ongoing. So, just, don't worry about it."

Erdeni does worry about it, shrugging off her wrap and draping it around his shoulders. "Here, you still look frigid. You're going to catch a cold like that."

"You're really sweet, but I don't--"

"I'm not taking no for an answer, so don't even waste your breath."

"Er, right." He has to admit, it is somewhat nice, even if satin isn't a particularly warm material. Being wrapped like this is comfortable, the smooth fabric taking his body heat well enough to keep him more or less insulated from the chill of the room, even if no one else seems particularly chilly. That is, admittedly, the downside of being skin and bone--he's the first one to get cold, and the last one to get particularly warm. He knocks back the glass of wine, hoping that the flush of a good buzz will warm him soon enough.

"Is that better?"

He sniffles, and ties it as tastefully as he can manage--the bows he's seen some ladies finagle these into boggle his mind--and smooths it out. "It is. Thank you, Erdeni."

"See? This is why you always need a femme around. That, and she's got anything you could ever want in her purse." Bolormaa's draped around his wife now, pressing kisses along her shoulder and towards her neck. "Doesn't even have to look, she can pull anything you could name out in two seconds flat."

She giggles, pushing him away slightly. "It's always good to be well prepared. Especially," she adds, a knowing glance to her wife, "when you know that you're going out with someone who thinks anything she can't fit on his carabiner is just dead weight."

He wants to just watch them, to enjoy the tenderness of being allowed to witness domesticity between two people who he loves, but his nose has other ideas. The last glass of wine seems to have gone straight to it--or, gosh, maybe it's just a psychosomatic thing because he's expecting it--either way, it's maddeningly itchy now.

"HoldonIm--hh'TSHH'ue! Hih'TSHieww! hiH-! ...hiISSHHyue! hyIISSHHue!" He holds his position, tucked into his elbow like this, until he's absolutely certain that this is the end of it. He straightens with a liquidy sniff, awkwardly wiping his arm against his shirt, and grabs a few napkins from the stack he'd shoved into his pocket earlier. "Excuse me, sorry. I didn't mean to--snf!--to interrupt."

"What they're doing doesn't need your input, you can do whatever you want over there." Niklas has brandished another handful of crumpled napkins from his pocket, and sets them on top of the stack of Elliott's. In turn, everyone else donates a napkin to the pile, whatever was wrapped around their glass or tucked into a pocket or set aside elsewhere.

There's a sizable pile there, now, certainly more than respectable in its proportions.

It won't be enough.

They all know this, seeing the way he's already dripping and sniffling and he isn't even properly buzzing yet. He can feel it creeping in on the edges of his mind, the next glass will probably do it, but as of yet he's still feeling pretty well sober. Too sober for a Christmas party, Niklas decides, because he makes an announcement that he's getting another round for everybody, even if nobody else has finished theirs yet.

He gets the distinct feeling that he will be pouring himself into somebody else's backseat on the way out of here. Tomorrow morning's shift will be somewhat of a hassle, but it's nice to feel like he's still got this chance, brief as it is, to be an adult making bad decisions first, and a parent second.

The gift exchange passes in a haze of wine and laughter and joy as everyone displays what they received, and vie for the more favorable gifts--he's quite satisfied with the pair of socks he ends up with, brightly colored and fuzzy and trimmed with designs of Christmas lights snaking around them--and he discovers, much to his alarm, that the party is ending soon when someone makes a last call for drinks.

He wobbles a bit when he stands, catching hold of Niklas's shoulder for support when his heels threaten to break his ankle--oh, gosh, heels were probably a bad choice if he was planning on drinking--and practically melts into his warm embrace, sinking down enough that he's no longer fully supporting his own weight and can rest his chin comfortably on his shoulder.

"Oh, Niklas, you're so strong. And handsome."

He snorts in response, patting his back. "And much too sober for you to be flirting with me. Come on, let's get you and your socks home."

"Did you--hh-? huH--! hHDSSHHue! 'TSSHHyue!" He manages to angle away from him enough to sneeze openly towards the floor, arms much too occupied clinging to Niklas and his little gift bag to be brought up to attempt to cover. His lashes flutter, chest rising and falling in unsteady intervals as he wavers on the edge of a third sneeze, which finally grants him some clemency and resolves itself with gusto. "Hh'HEESSHHyue!"

"Bless you!" Erdeni's hand on his cheek is warm and soothing, brushing a thumb up over his cheekbone as she cradles his face. He can feel the warmth of her soul through it, a thread running between the two of them, from soul to hand to cheek to soul, warming him up from the inside out like he's glowing like a candle. He can see that faint flush over her skin, the alcohol and affection in equal proportions.

"You're so nice. Bolormaa, your wife is so nice."

He grins. "Yeah, I'm pretty fond of her myself."

"Ohh, are you now? You're going to make them think you like me or something."

Felix coughs to interrupt the way they've taken hold of one another, kissing that's threatening to become something more amorous better reserved for a bedroom or a bathroom stall. "Think that might wait until we get into the car?"

"Prude."

Everything seems so beautiful in the dim light, festive layers shed and altered and shared amongst eachother, smiles on faces that are usually focused on the task at hand. The Captain, at some point this evening, has gained several necklaces with plastic candy canes and trees and ornaments, each one blinking like he imagines the stars must be twinkling if they could see them over the city lights.

Everything is so...so. He doesn't know how to put it beyond that. He pours himself into Niklas's backseat, squished up against Bolormaa and Erdeni who are laughing at some joke that's been too soft for him to catch it, and the streetlights have halos like they're all angels.

The realization creeps up on him slower than the feeling does. His thoughts feel like they're swimming through molasses as they struggle to catch up to him. He's gasping before he realizes that he needs to sneeze, giving him only enough time to turn away from his seatmates.

"hIH--IISSHHue! hyEISSHHuue! Huh-! huUDSSHhue!" He makes a pitiful "nuh" at the end, some itchy, miserable little sound as he sniffles and rubs hard at his nose, not nearly sober enough to be embarrassed by the wet click it produces. The droplets on the window shimmer under the passing streetlamps and what windows are still lit in the office buildings and billboards they pass.

Someone shoves a couple napkins into hands that are still half curled in front of him, never having made it anywhere near covering and returned to their previous position once he finished tending to his nose. He blinks tiredly at them, and then sniffles, the sound getting more congested than he'd really like it to. " 'scuse me. This is--mm--gonna be gross." If anyone is bothered by the sound of him blowing his nose, they don't show it--or at least he thinks they don't. He's suddenly so tired that it's hard to keep his eyes open.

He doesn't want to lay his head directly against the window he just sneezed all over, so instead he leans against Bolormaa, resting their heads together. It's somewhat awkward, given that he's about a million feet taller than he is, but they both shift enough to find a more comfortable arrangement of their bodies, and he lets his eyes drift closed, lulled to sleep by the sounds of soft conversation and the hum of the engine, of the radio melting dreamily from one song to another as the night wraps him into its embrace.

[customaluminium]

Eco-Friendly Advantages of Aluminium Grandstands

Aluminium grandstands are gaining popularity in Australia for various reasons, and one notable aspect that stands out is their eco-friendly nature. As communities and businesses strive to adopt more sustainable practices, the choice of construction materials becomes crucial. 

That’s why it’s important to delve into the eco-friendly advantages of aluminium grandstands. By exploring how this material aligns with Australia's commitment to environmental responsibility, it becomes easier to grasp its role in the heavy construction industry for decades to come.

Recyclability

Aluminium is a highly recyclable material, making it a standout choice for eco-conscious projects such as grandstand construction. Unlike some other materials that degrade during recycling, aluminium retains its quality, and the process requires significantly less energy compared to extracting and refining raw aluminium ore. 

Australia, being a country with a strong focus on recycling, benefits immensely from the use of aluminium in grandstand construction, contributing to the reduction of waste and lowering the environmental impact.

Durability and Longevity

One of the key environmental benefits of aluminium grandstands lies in their durability and longevity. Aluminium is naturally resistant to corrosion, ensuring that structures built with this material withstand the test of time and harsh weather conditions. 

Unlike some traditional materials that degrade quickly, aluminium grandstands require less frequent replacements, reducing the overall environmental footprint associated with constant construction and demolition.

This aspect of the material is even more crucial for events where audiences or participants can get quite rowdy. After all, grandstands are expected to support anywhere from hundreds to thousands of people. Not to mention the equipment and various paraphernalia that might be needed.

Low Maintenance Requirements

Aluminium grandstands also score points for their low maintenance needs. The reduced necessity for ongoing maintenance contributes to a lower environmental impact. 

Unlike structures that demand regular painting or sealing, aluminium grandstands maintain their appearance and structural integrity with minimal intervention. This not only conserves resources but also minimises the need for environmentally taxing maintenance activities.

In addition to that, due to the recyclability of aluminium, replacement parts are a lot more accessible. As such, if there is a need to replace certain parts of the grandstand, there will be fewer delays.

Light Weight and Transportation Efficiency

Aluminium's lightweight nature offers logistical advantages, especially during transportation. The reduced weight of aluminium grandstand components translates to lower fuel consumption during transportation, contributing to a smaller carbon footprint. 

With Australia's vast landscapes and the need for materials to be transported over long distances, the environmental benefits of using lightweight aluminium cannot be overstated.

Energy Efficiency in Production

Aluminium production, although energy-intensive, has become more environmentally friendly over the years. Many aluminium manufacturers are investing in sustainable practices, such as using renewable energy sources and improving overall energy efficiency. 

This shift towards cleaner production methods aligns with Australia's commitment to reducing carbon emissions. As the aluminium industry evolves, the environmental impact of producing aluminium grandstands continues to decrease, making it a more sustainable choice for large-scale construction projects.

Reduction in Heat Island Effect

Aluminium grandstands contribute to mitigating the urban heat island effect, a phenomenon where urban areas experience higher temperatures than their rural counterparts due to human activities and construction materials. 

Aluminium, being highly reflective, helps to bounce sunlight away from the structure, reducing heat absorption. 

This reflective quality contributes to a more comfortable environment for spectators and lessens the overall impact on local microclimates, aligning with Australia's efforts to create sustainable and liveable cities.

Adaptability and Upgradability

The adaptability and upgradability of aluminium grandstands further enhance their eco-friendly credentials. As sporting and entertainment facilities evolve, the ability to modify and upgrade structures without extensive demolition and reconstruction is a significant advantage. 

This adaptability reduces waste and environmental impact associated with constant redevelopment, aligning with Australia's commitment to sustainable urban planning and construction practices.

Conclusion

Aluminium grandstands offer a compelling case for their eco-friendly advantages, aligning with Australia's commitment to sustainability and environmental responsibility. The recyclability, durability, low maintenance requirements, and energy efficiency of aluminium make it a standout choice for large-scale projects. 

As communities and businesses across Australia continue to prioritise environmental considerations, the use of aluminium grandstands exemplifies a practical and responsible approach to construction that minimises environmental impact while providing functional and long-lasting infrastructure.

Need high quality fully custom aluminium products and services? Contact us at Custom Aluminium.

[g0nta-g0kuhara]

I didnt put it in the original post because it's not exactly what I was trying to talk about but I do think part of this sentiment also comes from the DR Fandom in particular's reputation across this site. And like a few people mentioned in the tags, yeah, the DR fandom back at its peak was rowdy and unhinged, but the reality is that the modern fandom has quieted down significantly to the point that it's genuinely more chill than the most popular ones on tumblr at the moment. But because that reputation is still there, people are apprehensive to join and share their benign character takes in case they get flamed as if it was 2017.

I don't want to say "I wish we could just move past that" because the DR fandom was Nuts back then (I say second hand, I was not there) and I do think thats a remarkable thing about it that I don't want to just brush aside. But also, it's just not really true anymore. No one is gonna chew your head off in ship wars more than in any other small fandom in the year 2024. Its ok.

I'm still thinking about that post from earlier because, really, as someone who has been into DR for far too long at this point, it is tiring and disheartening to see new fans embarrassed or nervous to post. I can't tell you how many times Ive seen fan posts couched with captions like "sorry I like DR now" or "this game sucks lol' or "I hated dr but I like x." And like, I get it, I really do. I felt that way too when I first joined the fandom, and obviously there is a lot to criticize about this series. But it is sad to see so much apprehension talking about liking something or a part of something that you feel the need to add negativity like that to an otherwise positive post. And its exhausting to see as a fan when you have to see it over and over and over again.

This isn't even an in-fandom problem which makes it kinda hard to do anything about too? Almost everyone who posts like this is new to the fandom or just passing through. It's just DR's reputation as "completely irredeemable trash media" that makes people feel that way, and its sad. I just wish people who are clearly feeling genuine positive emotions about DR could let themselves feel those things without the fear of being sent to tumblr hell for the sin of liking a piece of media that's not perfect.