#without conceding any kindness or fairness

[bluespring864]

Grigor Dimitrov defeats Holger Rune 7-6 (5), 6-4 to win the Brisbane International 2024

[ddarker-dreams]

Scarlet ribbons but she is the one telling the boys how she thinks they are super pretty/handsome/etc.

(Ps love your writing sm, it cheered me up alot after i had a rough day yesterday uwu)

WAHH WHAT AN ADORABLE IDEA.... it's what they deserve tbh... my favs from part 5 are like the only people who get to be happy on this blog hrjktmger and i'm so glad that my writing helped cheer you up, i hope that the past few days have been treating you better!!

Reader is referred to as girlfriend here!

[Scarlet Ribbons index]

Giorno

He gets the cutest blush that he tries to hide by covering his face with his hand and clearing his throat. Passione's Don, who remains unwavering in the face of death, can't handle his beloved heaping praises upon him. No matter how suave he may act, your relationship is his first foray into romance. There's a slight shakiness to his voice when he returns your compliment. It doesn't help that there's this glint in your eye that tells him you'll be using this newfound knowledge to your advantage. He supposes it's only fair, considering his penchant for teasing you whenever possible, but maybe he'll go easy on you after learning how it feels. That isn't to say he dislikes your kind words — more so that the temporary loss in his composure is a strange sensation. Strange, yet not unwelcome.

Bruno

Your serious Capo melts on the spot at such ardent praise — he can feel Cupid's arrow piercing him in real time. He takes a moment to recollect himself, before wondering aloud what brought this on. When you point out that he compliments you all the time without any real reason, he puts his hands up in defense, conceding to your argument. If you're in public, he'll limit his response to a warm thank you. Should you be away from prying eyes, however, he'll pull you into an embrace. It serves a dual purpose. You won't be able to see the pink dusting his cheeks and he gets to wrap you up in his arms. You really are the light of his life, he'll tell you. As unconventional as the lifestyle you both lead is, it's moments like this where he delights in a shred of normalcy.

Fugo

His overactive brain temporarily short circuits. Fugo is the type to blush up to his ears, no matter how vehemently he denies it. This poor guy considers you infinitely out of his league and immediately assumes you broke the espresso machine or something and want to soften the blow by using flattery. He sputters for a few moments before his tongue recalls how to properly form coherent words. He'll downright ask what angle you're trying to use here. He isn't used to receiving compliments without the other person having an end goal in mind. Once it's clear you just felt like letting him know, he takes deep breaths to calm his heart, which he can hear thumping loudly. Fugo then starts saying that objectively speaking, you are far more aesthetically pleasing, and starts lifting off some mathematical terms that fly over your head.

Mista

Mista points at himself and says "Me?" just to make sure he heard you right. This is a big moment for him. It isn't that he doubts your physical attraction to him, but hearing it confirmed out loud in your sweet voice is a real treat. He'll sling an arm around your shoulder and drops the line, "You're not so bad yourself", because he thinks it sounds cool. Mista wants to maintain his laidback air, but when you say stuff like that, his stomach does soumersalts and his hands start sweating. He has this big goofy grin and confident gait the remainder of the day. The one trade off (in his opinion) is that the Pistols start swarming about, insisting that you pay them equal praise. Chaos ensues until you appease their neediness for your validation. It is his soul made manifest, after all.

Narancia

Narancia does a little fist pump and starts cheering internally. Although, if you called him pretty, he might pause and get petulant. He totally exudes machismo, he'll insist. He'll warm up to the compliment eventually, though, but he won't admit it. Regardless, he's hype about it. His energy skyrockets the rest of the day. He's all over you, peppering your face with kisses, picking you up and twirling you around, he's on cloud nine. He considers it his personal mission to shower you in praise and this only reaffirms the creed. He'll go up to random people in public, point at you, and say stuff like, "Isn't she so cute? That's my girlfriend, yeah, that pretty lady over there. Do you see her? Just look at her, she's amazing, the coolest ever, did you know she—" and on and on he'll go.

Abbacchio

Similar to Fugo, he initially assumes that you're trying to butter him up. He'll wryly ask what you intend to cajole him into doing. When you huff and insist that this is a no strings attached compliment, he'll study you, since he knows the many tells that signify you're lying. Upon realizing you're being genuine, he'll grumble a few words of gratitude and leave it at that. Don't let his composure fool you — his heart is pounding away like he's a hormonal teenager again. He will lie awake that night, your words repeating on a loop without his Stand's assistance, floating in this warm and fuzzy sensation. Abbacchio might not be the best with his words, but he swears an oath to compliment you properly the next time he sees you.

[notsoattractivearenti]

Frustration (Christian Pulisic x Fem!Reader) 🔞

(gif by me)

WC: 1.4K

Warnings: SMUT, dom(m), nipple play, clit stimulation, penetration. MINORS DNI

A/N: i wrote this as fast as i could (cuz i didn't wanna make any major changes if i couldn't finish it before the ucl game!) so idk if this is decent or not lol. if i miss anything on the warnings pls lmk! hope you guys enjoy and i’d love to hear your thoughts thru ask/reply/reblog 💗 this was not proofread so apologies for any errors! feedbacks are highly appreciated 🤍

—

The first match of the season between AC Milan and Juventus didn’t go well for the home team, especially for Christian. One of Milan’s defenders got a red card in the first half and the team had to finish the match with 10 men left. Then, shortly before halftime, Christian got subbed off for another defender – it was the first change for the team. He was visibly upset because he still wanted to play and it felt way too soon to bring him to the bench. Not only that, Milan also lost by 0-1 so the day couldn’t have gone any worse for Christian.

I saw what happened and I could already tell that he would be in a very bad mood until the day ended. I wanted to give him a hug right away and let him know I’m here for him but of course I couldn’t, so I had to impatiently wait until the match was over to do so. On our way to the car, he didn’t say a word – he didn’t have to, his facial expression said it all. I tried to console him but he didn’t respond, so I waited until we got into the car to continue talking to him.

When we got into the car, he slammed the door so hard it startled me for a second. Holy shit, he really is fucking frustrated, I thought to myself. He was looking all grumpy and still didn’t say anything as he started to drive.

—

Finally leaving San Siro, he took a deep breath before he started to talk.

“Sorry, Y/N, I’m just not happy with the way things were.” He admitted.

“Yeah, I know,” I rubbed his shoulder, ”I’m sorry you had to go through this shit.”

He slightly smiled.

“Mmhm. Ugh, I should’ve had more time on the field…” He sighed.

Even though I had assumed that the reason behind the decision was to maintain the defensive structure of the team, it didn’t feel fair to take Christian off that early. 

“I’m with you, baby. But what’s done is done. Pioli might have thought it was the best decision, but in the end one goal was still conceded. Let’s just focus on the PSG game and give your best as always, okay?” I tried to encourage him.

“Okay… But sorry Y/N I can’t help but think the game could’ve gone better…” He grunted.

“Hey,” I kissed his hand, then continued consoling him, “don’t beat yourself up. That was not your fault! Tonight’s not your night. Nor Milan’s. Trust me, you guys will do better on the next one.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right…” He hesitantly agreed.

“Thank you, my dearest. I’m so glad you’re here.” This time, he was being genuine.

—

Now at home, Christian didn’t waste a second to find the couch and laid on it. He drowned his face onto the pillow and screamed his heart out. I love that man so much but he is so used to bottling his emotions – which kind of bothers me, if I’m being honest – and seeing him screaming like that, I just knew he truly felt hurt and couldn’t contain it anymore. So I thought of a way to release his emotions – what I had in mind could actually be fun and beneficial for us both.

“You know, if you want to fuck your frustration away, I’m down.”

He immediately sat up, then turned his head right away and looked at me all confused.

“Say what now?”

“Yeah, I mean… I’m kind of in the mood, so… If you want.” I teased him.

He still wasn’t convinced.

“Are you messing with me?” He pouted.

“I’m serious, Chris, I’m not playing.” I smirked. “Do what you want to me.”

Without a word, Christian roughly picked me up and started kissing me. He threw my body on the couch and positioned himself on top of me. He took off all of his clothes right away, and when I was about to do the same thing, he stopped me.

“Don’t. I’ll take them off myself.” He demanded.

I nodded in response.

“Did I not hear a ‘yes, Christian’?”

“Yes, Christian.” I repeated his words.

“Mmm, good girl.”

I bit my lip and moaned when he called me a good girl. Those two little words never failed to drive me crazy. As he said that, I could feel my pussy starting to get wet.

I was wearing his jersey at the moment. He wanted me to keep wearing it, so he took off everything I had on my body except the shirt.

“Fucking hell,” he gulped, “you look insanely sexy wearing my shirt.”

His hands began tracing my body starting from my chest. He rubbed and squeezed my breasts tightly then moved his fingers over my nipples, gently twisting and pinching them. It felt so good I closed my eyes and quivered.

“Do you like it when I play with your titties, baby?”

“Yes…” I whimpered.

“Tell me how good it is.”

“So fucking good…”

Before I knew it, I felt one of my nipples was already inside his mouth – he swirled his tongue around then sucked it. I gasped at such a pleasant sensation.

“Oh!”

When he heard my gasp, he gave a little bite and it successfully got me moaning so loud. My hand was grasping the cushion while the other was holding on to Christian’s arm – and when he bit my nipple, I squeezed his arm so hard it turned slightly red.

After he finished sucking one nipple, his mouth moved onto the other and did everything all over again. By then, my naked pussy was already dripping wet.

His hands continued wandering around my body, feeling every inch of the curves. When he found his way to my pussy, he started rubbing my clit with two fingers.

“Oh, so slippery already?”

“Mmhm…” I bit back a moan. “Please don’t stop…”

He rubbed my clit faster and my thighs started to clench.

“Ohh… Mmm… Yeahh… Faster!” I sputtered.

“Are you gonna cum, baby?” He asked.

“Y-y-e-esss…” I hissed.

He kept rubbing.

“Then cum for me now.” He demanded.

“I- Ahh…”

My entire body was trembling – my eyes rolled back and I stopped breathing for a moment.

“Holy fuck…” I moaned.

“Ah, that’s my good girl. But we’re not done,” He said as he put on a condom.

I took a glance at his hard cock and all I could think of was having it within my pussy.

“Get inside me now, please…” I begged him.

He then roughly pushed his cock into my wet pussy.

“I’m gonna fuck you harder than I’ve ever been tonight.”

He really meant what he said – he started pounding me really hard, deeper and so rough than he usually did.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so wet.” He moaned.

The sound of our skins slapping against each other was so loud even the other noises we made couldn't cover it. His hands were strongly gripping my thighs while he was thrusting his cock deeper and faster by the second.

“I- oh you feel so good… Ohh sh-shit…” His breath hitched.

“Faster!” 

He immediately went full speed to the point where it felt like he was about to destroy my pussy. I could clearly feel his pulse inside me. Suddenly, my brain stopped working and I couldn’t say anything but moaned loudly.

“Hhh… Good fu-uck…” he panted.

His face was moving closer to mine and my lips immediately met his. I broke our kiss by biting his bottom lip then we heavily breathed each other’s air. When his neck was across my face, I started sucking it and left a mark. He moaned even harder when I sucked his Adam’s apple – it kind of tickled when it moved.

“Fuck… I’m close…” He whimpered. “Cum with me princess…”

And in an instant, the earth stopped spinning. The waves of pleasure just left my body, and at the same time I could feel his entire body quivering – his cock was still inside me.

Christian rested his face over my shoulder and heavily breathed into my ear. I kissed his ear and whispered, “feeling better now?”

He nodded, couldn’t say a word as he was still trying to catch his breath.

When he was finally able to speak he said to you, “Y/N, you sure know how to turn a bad day into a better one.”

—

taglist: @pulisicsgirl @neverinadream @swimmingismywholelife @chilwellspulisic @bracedes @lovelynikol16 @thoseboysinblue @lizzypotter14 @masonsrem @landoslover

[ajulisz]

Someone is trying to sell pets to our Lady

Relationship type: You're Alcinas pet

MC Pronouns: They/Them

CW: Slavery (trade, chained - but not you), mention of death, mention of cannibalism, chocking, pet names, collar, some petting for you at the end because you deserve it :)

A/N: Do I still need to mention that you have a dom/sub dynamics outside the bedroom even after all this warnings?

*Althought me and my gf re-read this, good to remind that English is not our first language so there's still probably some typos*

With an eyebrow raise your Lady's eyes snapped from you to the merchant in front of her, it was normal this time of the year for some travelers to request meetings with her, normally she doesn't even look at them, too bored with fiddling with the strings of your collar or amusing herself with their fear to find anything of theirs interesting. But the bare mention of her pets always caused a reaction on her, a kind of possessiveness always took control.

- Hello my Lady, I'm a mere trader, I came from far away because I heard that your... pets, are the most behaved ones.

- Yes, they are. Go straight to the point, what do you have.

- Oh, simply other 'pets', I travel the world collecting and selling them to the best leaders.

She liked the flattering, the immortals trying their best, getting on their knees bowing and begging her for the mercy that only she could concede because it was genuine coming from their fear and admiration. But adulation was out of question, and it was the first and last strike to make her lose interest.

Making them believe that she still cares was simply a fun way to keep them in line while crushing their hope and making it seem like it was their fault.

- Is that so? Why don't you show me then, let me see what you have.

From the chain in the merchants hand he pulled four men in front of him, hitting them on the knees to make them stay on the floor. Moving around he started to point to what clearly once was a muscular man, now was malnourished and had an ugly face which made the Lady's insides move with disgust.

- This is one of my strongest, he-

- Oh please, show me the women and the non binaries, not the men. And let me be the judge, no need for your stained percipience.

With a flush on his face he tugged again with his chain bringing three other people on their knees.

-Yes, I'm sorry my lady. These are the ones that I have.

Your mistress eyes slowly scanned their bodies, not only the men but all the other where in a clearly state of bad care.

- Look at their faces, it looks skinnier than a healthy person should, what kind of master are you?

You were put out of the picture when she was talking, sitting on the floor on the side of her chair like a dog would sit next to its owner.

You never cared to listen to the traders that came much less dared to speak without Dimitrescu's permission. It was how you were trained to do, "don't talk, don't move, don't look, sit still until I give you an order" and she tugged your collar which meant for you to get up.

- Do they know any tricks? Or at least are they obedient? Even my current pet, as you can see, is in a better shape than your strongest man.

The man's mouth opened to say something but he stopped at the moment she raised her eyebrow again with a glare. Your eyes were faithfully looking at her hands, just waiting for the minimum order that always seemed unnoticed to others "that's what makes it magical my pet, don't you think it's more enjoyable to see their shaking knees when you obey me without me using a single word? For them is like I took control of your mind, a fair warning that I could and will the same to them if it pleases me". The lady started speaking.

- You see... pets are mere reflexes of their owners, be a good owner and they will be a good pet, be a sharp owner and they will be submissive and agile. My pet is both of this things, they went through a rough training and made a lot of mistakes in the beginning, but you have to reward them for good behavior and provide their basic needs or they will stop obeying you at certain point... because they will be dead.

There it was, a different movement of hand when she started speaking and you got closer. Her hand was passing through your body tentatively, fingers and pointy nails poking the betweens of your ribbs and finally stopped around you neck.

- Isn't it better when they die for you? When you say just one word and, while they excitedly obey, you are able to see the life fading from their eyes and feel their pulse slowly stopping around your hands?

She said and looked deep in your eyes supporting her face on her hand on the chair arm while a smirk appeared and she started squeezing your neck.

The mans eyes got bigger, he was clearly scared but you couldn't even care enough about him or the others, all you could feel at the moment was your mistress full and overwhelming presence. The lack of air, the control she had on you, all of that made your head dizzy, your fingers slowly crawling up to hers, squeezing it, begging for more.

- I- I'm sorry my lady, it was not my intention to offend you. Bu-but my pets are really obedient, they're just like that because of the extensive travel-

- Shush

The Lady's eyes rolled in annoyance, she have forgotten that the man was still standing there, lost in your breathless lust sounds that kept her in a trance. She stopped holding your neck making you fall to your knees with the weakness and struggle of recovering the air that was denied to you and motioned for you to sit on the floor in front of her. Which you obeyed, crawling to your place.

- I do not see a world where your... slaves, would be a good suit for me, maybe try to make some other fool buy them because a thing in such state is not worth a penny.

- But my la-

- Goodbye.

Her hand slowly moved to your head, and she started scratching the behind of your ear which meant that you could relax, you backed a bit and rested your head on her leg with a satisfied smile and closing your eyes when she got back to petting the top of your head for her own comfort giving a tired sigh.

- Man things get even more imbecile with the years, don't you think little one? Girls! Come here!

A smoke of flies took the whole space around you and your mistress, making three heads peak out of it.

- Yes mother?

- In our path there will be a group of humans, you may hunt and kill the leader but bring back the chained ones, put them in the maids wing, ask the maids to provide them food, water and call Monique so she can attend to their medical needs.

- Consider it done mother.

The girls said giggling and flying to the exit in the same direction of the man which made you open your eyes and you look up at your mistress with a questioning face

- Oh please sweet thing, don't look at me like that, did I not promise you that I would not dispose of you? There ain't no way that Mistress is going to train a human again, too much trouble when I have you in a perfect shape, but at least the girls can have a feast in some months and we can produce new scarecrows for the vineyard with them.

[randomwriteronline]

Not in a million years would Melli have meant to slip it out like that, so naturally, so nonchalantly. He would rather have kept it to himself for the rest of eternity, or if he'd ever changed his mind he would have liked it to have the appropriate amount of flare and stone cold stalwartness as it deserved - though anything that wouldn't have been a broken whisper would have done.

But instead, because Ingo had held out a hand to catch his own as he helped him down a steeper step down the mountainside, and the gesture had been kind despite the fact they were arguing, he simply conceded with a frown: "At least you know how to treat a lady."

Then he bit his tongue; but the damage was already done.

Ingo looked at him, stone faced as always if with a glint of surprise in his eyes.

"Ah," he noted simply, with a slight apprehension: "Pardon me, I am worried my memory might have once again failed me. Have you shared this information with me beforehand?"

Melli shook his head.

"I see! That's a relief. I feared you might have mentioned that already and unbeknownst to myself I had kept on employing wrong terms when speaking of you."

The words made the Diamond's danger sense perk up, and he hastily asked: "What wrong terms?"

"Mister, sir, man, he, him, and the such," Ingo helpfully replied.

Oh.

General terms.

Still, Melli gave him a deep, haughty frown: "I never said I wasn't ‘him’," he hissed, "For your information."

"I understand! I do agree I should have asked instead of assumed. Thank you for correcting me," the other responded without even a flinch, or a gawk, or a doubtful grimace, or a shake his head in disbelief, or a few hasty blinks as he had to do a double take just to make sure he had heard him correctly.

His tranquility somehow only worsened the antsy mood Electrode's warden found himself trapped in. He lifted his chin high with as scornful a look as he could muster: "I wasn't planning on telling you either way," he scoffed: "But since you tricked me into doing so I better hope you won't have the bright idea of sharing that with any of your folk, or I'll have my Lord zap the breath out of your lungs!"

"I had no intention of pushing you to reveal such a vulnerable part of yourself," Ingo replied apologetically, "But do not fret: I shall endeavor to protect your privacy and keep it to myself."

Melli's solemn nod branded his response with a seal of approval.

Of course, Sneasler’s warden had to ruin that by adding: “Much like I would like you to endeavor not to undo my hard work and keep yourself from snuffing out my torches.”

The tentative calm was shattered in an instant as the woman angrily replied: “Well! Maybe I wouldn’t bother you so much if you just stopped doing that! The Pokémon don’t like the light, I’ve told you!”

“Yes, and you are perfectly right in saying so, Miss Melli!” (and in a moment the animosity was once again blown up with a loud poof!, leaving the lilac haired head to be gently swarmed with a pleasant shapeless feeling very similar to euphoric joy) “But while the species residing in such an environment have long developed methods to orient themselves in the dark, humans can only count on their sight to do so, which is greatly impeded by the lack of any light source. I understand the sudden change might be jarring for the Pokémon themselves, but in the long run it might be safer for them as well as ourselves if passing commuters do not stumble directly into their jaws because they could not see them.”

The side effect of having a mind unclouded by petty hatred was that this time Melli actually did listen to whatever was being said to him instead of automatically deciding against it.

That strange positive feeling still had him ensnared in its gentle grip, causing him to twirl the tips of his silky hair as a kinder mood had him twist his mouth and admit: “That’s… A fair point. But then how would you suppose to fix that, hm?”

“Through a collaboration, perhaps.” Ingo offered: “I unfortunately lack the additional years of experience on the territory that you have, since you’ve been a warden longer than I have. If you would agree to work with me, I’m certain we would have little trouble devising effective routes through the various caves in the Highlands that would both guide commuters safely out of them and make sure the wellbeing and comfort of resident Pokémon is maintained.”

“An acceptable proposal,” Melli nodded, his good mood slowly passing but still unclouding his pompous mind enough to actually hear the man out.

“I’m glad you think so! Perhaps we could start right away, tomorrow morning.”

“Not a chance,” the woman quickly stopped him: “I need to leave the Highlands for a couple of days. You people Pearls love your space, I get it, but I cannot be in two places at once, now can I? And don’t you even try putting up torches while I’m gone! I’ll take it all back!”

Ingo hummed thoughtfully: “By when would you plan to be back, Miss?”

A smile lit the other warden’s face right up: “In two days,” he replied much more amiably, giddy once again, “I’ll be here by midday.”

“Then I suppose your request to keep the caves unlit is reasonable, though it pains me to leave them lacking proper lighting,” the man nodded. “If your return had been delayed for even just a day longer, I fear I would have had to disobey your orders to ensure the safety of potential passengers. I shall simply accompany them through instead.”

“Hm! I guess it would have been fair,” Melli conceded.

It took maybe less than a moment to properly realize he had just agreed with the other, but even despite the minuscule amount of time that had passed the damage had been done; so he stiffened slightly again, shook his head, held his chin high so he wouldn’t have to look at Ingo’s shit-eating grin (or at least at what he was certain was a shit-eating grin, which it wasn’t, because Ingo was not a man who made such faces due to his struggling expressivity, plus he was honestly just glad they had gotten an agreement) and huffed.

“I better go!” he announced. “Lord Electrode needs me before I leave. Don’t slow me down.”

“I would hate to do so,” Sneasler’s warden reassured him, and kindly tipped his hat: “Have a safe trip, Miss Melli.”

He could not see Melli’s face as he left, since he turned away very quickly and marched off as fast as he could; but if he had, he would have seen the biggest smile on the woman’s face, and he probably would have even heard the joyful thundering beat of his heart as it hammered away in his chest with pure mirth.

-

“I’m a miss,” Melli gloated.

Adaman raised an eyebrow at him: “Hm?”

“I’m a miss, now,” his sister repeated. The hand on his chest was full of pride. “Ingo’s called me ‘Miss Melli’.”

“Ingo knows?”

“I didn’t mean to tell him, but I did, and it’s fine either way because he’s been very nice about it. He calls me ‘Miss Melli’, now.”

The leader hummed, smiling slightly: “That’s Galarian, isn’t it?”

Melli nodded.

“And how do you know it’s not an insult?”

At that the warden turned sharply to shoot a venomous glare straight at him: “It’s not!”

“Oh? You know Galarian?”

“I know it’s not an insult! Ingo wouldn’t do that! He’s too nice!”

“And how are you sure? Have you been…” and at that Adaman grinned mischievously, wiggling his eyebrows: “Fraternizing with him?”

Seeing his sister’s face turn beet red was absolutely priceless. He laughed at his fuming anger, shielding his face with an arm when he seemed about to be getting a whole faceful of kindling wood thrown at himself.

“I am not fraternizing!” Melli hissed: “He’s just around all the time!”

“Stop playing!” Mai yelled at them before going back to preparing the pyre for the evening.

Her younger sister whined back at her: “He’s being mean to me!”

It was, however, Iscan who came to his aid - as he always did, of course.

Their cousin’s unmistakable wavy hairline peeked out from beneath a discrete amount of fish he was gutting exceptionally quickly: “Is something wrong?”

“Nothing,” Adaman cackled, “Melli’s just been fraternizing with the weird old man Ingo.”

“I’m not!” Melli shrieked: “He’s just being nice! Unlike you!”

“Calm down now,” Iscan soothed him, “What happened exactly?”

The Highland warden sighed: “My tongue slipped because of his good manners.”

“His good manners?” his brother echoed.

Iscan masterfully redirected the attention back on himself before another squabble could begin: “Oh? You told him?”

“Yes! And now he calls me ‘Miss Melli’,” and he smiled brilliantly for a moment, face lighting up with genuine euphoria, before side-eyeing his grinning brother with piqued disdain as he clarified: “Because he’s being nice, and not because I’m fraternizing with him.”

His cousin smiled at that: “Ah, that’s good to know. He did strike me as a kind fellow.”

“I still think it’s an insult,” Adaman commented.

He ducked to evade a branch smacking his nose right off.

Fed up with his cackling, Melli stormed off stomping his feet to help Mai and Arezu instead, mumbling angrily about how he should have gone with them to begin with, since ladies don’t usually make fools out of fellow ladies - which was wholly untrue, especially in the case of Arezu who had that annoying habit of gossiping about everything and everyone at their expense, but it is worth pointing out that neither of the other female wardens made fun of him as much and as obnoxiously as their leader currently was.

Even Iscan gave him a gently disapproving look as he went right back to deboning Barboach.

His leader raised his shoulders as he still chuckled: “What!” he laughed, “You never know! Maybe he’s calling him a tramp behind his back.”

“Come on now, let him have this,” the warden replied: “You’ve met the man before, right?”

“Yes, yes, I know that warden’s not one to do something as mean as that. Melli’s just too much fun to watch him when he’s angry like that.”

“I bet he thinks the same of you.”

At that, Adaman groaned: “Oh, I know he does. He’s been doing that for years now. I bet he thinks it’s hilarious.”

“And do you want to stoop to that level and bicker like kids until the end of time?”

A huff: “No…”

“Then let that poor girl keep his bubble of happiness just this once,” Iscan concluded, satisfied, and threw away the bones in a neat pile by himself.

The younger man also momentarily dropped the conversation, going back to work to bring the kindling over to the growing bonfire that would have been lit up that night in celebration of the first half of the year passing. He returned after a short while, however, hands empty and steps as quiet as a Leafeon’s, to sit by his cousin again with a conspiratorial air and a smirk that promised nothing good.

He put his hand to the man’s ear and whispered: “I still think they have something going on.”

Iscan sighed and laughed a little bit: “How about you leave the gossiping to Arezu and help me get dinner ready instead?”

Adaman groaned again.

Much to his cousin’s satisfaction, he picked up a Barboach, a knife, and got to work.

-

Working with Ingo, as it turned out, was actually really easy.

He was very receptive to instructions as well as intuitive when it came to finding fallacies and offering solutions, and while he had his own discrete amount of expertise on caves he was also quite happy to listen to Melli’s inputs and follow them if he judged them better than his own ideas.

It was almost as though the Diamond warden could have benefitted from this pleasant cooperation from the start if he had just pulled his pretty head out of his own ass!

He squashed that thought under his boot, of course.

Especially because, after the first few caves, the woman had noticed something that had started worsening his mood.

Ingo was as polite as ever, helping him down steeper ledges, calling him ‘Miss’, thanking him and all; but he kept avoiding ever meeting Melli’s eyes like the plague, and never dared to look at him for too long. As soon as he wasn’t concentrating on the task at hand he would fix his gaze somewhere else entirely, more often than not turning his whole head away even while talking directly to him, sometimes with a low, almost hesitant voice.

The woman’s mind churned around these details, turning them around angrily in his skull as his thoughts worsened, and his mood together with them. A shadow was cast over his fair face as he brooded in silence, ready to explode at the slightest provocation.

It did not help that he felt worse than if it had been anybody else.

Oh, it hurt when somebody treated him like this once they found out, of course it did, and in a way he had always expected one of those blasted Pearls to see him as lesser for it, and had prepared himself so that he could drown their disgust in his roaring assertion of his own exceptionality and myriad of incredible qualities; but when it came to his fellow hermit he could not help but feel like no amount of screaming in a mirror that he was worth just as much as all his sisters and brothers and cousins and clansmen would have soothed the disheartening feeling agitating his chest.

As mentioned, the other warden was very receptive when he wanted to be; so as they both placed the last torch in the path they had both devised, his white eyes turned upwards, towards the scowl darkening in vitriol of his companion, and carefully asked with earnest concern in his voice: “Forgive my indelicacy for asking you so bluntly, Miss, but - may I help with whatever is vexing you?”

His kindness was unfortunately undone as he once again averted Melli’s gaze for a second, and the tall woman snapped at him venomously: “If you were so disgusted by my existence that you couldn’t stomach looking at me, you could have said that earlier!”

Ingo seemed taken aback for a second.

Then he shouted: “AH!” and slapped his face.

He shook his head several times, humming and groaning, playing with his hat as though he was about to smack it on his leg in frustration - a display that confused Melli greatly.

“Forgive me, Miss Melli,” he finally explained guiltily: “I’m afraid my struggle with being visibly expressive has thwarted my relations with others once again. It was not my intention to appear as though I find the sight of you unpleasant – it’s, ah… Forgive me, it is a little embarrassing to bare my thoughts like this. I find it hard to look at you for, well, for the opposite reason, truly.”

“Which would be?”

“I find you to be very beautiful.”

The Diamond stared him down, remaining briefly silent: “I am,” he replied. “You didn’t have any trouble looking at me before.”

“I am very aware of that,” Ingo reassured him, “I did not mean to imply that you were not lovely to behold, that much is very obvious to anybody who is capable of seeing without problems. The matter is simply that, not being attracted to men and mistakenly believing you to be one, I had not been fully exposed to any side effects your looks could have had on me until very recently.”

The harshness in Melli’s expression mellowed slowly, turning his furious frown into a thoughtful neutral look; the tension left his shoulders, his thin hands began playing with the ends of his hair as he reflected on those words. Anger had left him.

In its stead, a slow realization caused a smile to creep onto his face.

He eyed Ingo without a word, fluttering his lashes gently a few times to watch him struggle not to follow his slender finger as he dragged it along his own jaw.

“I see,” he chirped, sweeter than honey: “So it’s because you like me.”

The man looked at him almost in a daze as he slowly processed the words.

His entire face turned completely red in a matter of seconds.

He jerked his head away completely to both pitifully attempt to mask his embarrassment at having his feelings so easily unveiled and avoid deafening the object of his infatuation as he shouted hurriedly: “OH GOODNESS ME WHAT IS THAT MEOWLING SOUND OVER THERE, I DO BELIEVE SNEASLER IS REQUESTING MY PRESENCE POST HASTE I’M AFRAID I MUST ANSWER HER CALL IMMEDIATELY, THANK YOU FOR YOUR HELP AND HAVE A GOOD DAY MISS MELLI!”

Then he speeded away, as fast and stiff as a boat with powerful winds in its sail, followed by the beautiful sound of Melli’s unrestrained laughter.

-

Skuntank hadn’t seen his companion so exuberantly happy in quite a while now.

The woman was still cackling at his admirer’s reaction, recounting over and over his accidental confession and subsequent swift departure as he combed his hair through his fingers – a gesture that betrayed how overwhelmingly pleased he was to have learned what a special opinion of him his fellow warden had.

Ingo might have had him wrapped around his little finger with that ‘Miss’, but Melli had him completely bewitched!

Ah, he could see himself already, Electrode’s warden mused, getting out of an argument by flustering him, convincing him to run some errands for him just by batting his lashes, watching him color red and hide behind his hat at a flirt, teasing him endlessly, making him shake just by offering the slightest glimpse of bare skin!

His trusted partner listened without a care, happy to listen to joyful ramblings instead of whining yet again - though he did quickly notice how the fantasies were slowly veering away from simply taking advantage of the man or delighting themselves with making fun of him… Now where had ideas of sharing food, or baths, or kisses come from? What exactly would his mistress have gained from it in terms of amusement or favors? He wasn’t mentioning any as he spoke of those…

But all Skuntank had to do was take a better look at the woman, and he understood instantly.

Melli stopped laughing just enough to hear the comforting yet thunderous sound of his partner purring knowingly, almost mockingly, with a wide smirk on his already smug muzzle as he laid his chin on one of his large hind legs.

The warden tilted his head: “What’s so funny?” he asked, still cackling.

The Pokémon mewled with a low rumble as if to feign innocence and kneaded a single paw, his right one, in the carpet.

His companion imitated the motion by reflex, tightening his own fingers absentmindedly. Oh? And what was this, now? He’d been playing with something, apparently. He traced the shape and took in the texture while mindlessly running his digits over the mystery object, only vaguely recognizing that he was grazing his own neck as well.

In the end he figured out what Skuntank was trying to bring his attention to: he was just turning the pendant of his necklace around his palm! Such a small thing… Though it had been a while since he’d last done so, hadn’t it?

Yes, he could remember it – the last time he’d played with it like this was when he’d fallen for that annoying boy a few years ago, like a foolish girl, returning all bashful and shy…

He did not make the connection immediately, still so caught up in his own thoughts that he could barely understand the subtext his partner was trying to bring his mind to. But the more he touched the smooth stone, the more he realized the tenderness of the motion was intrinsically linked to his plans regarding Ingo; not only that, but when he tried stopping either the thinking or the caressing he found with growing horrified embarrassment that he could not manage, for in order to cease doing one he would have needed to stop doing the other as well, and the more he thought of stopping the more his mind went right back to the Pearl clansman, to his honesty when he’d confessed himself, his red face, his sweet words, his hands, his eyes, his—

“Oh no,” Melli wheezed at last.

Skuntank gave an intermittent grumble similar to a laugh as his mistress hid his fair face against his knees with a high pitched groan whilst kicking his feet, half mortified, half excited.

Ah, fuck.

It was mutual.

[ohmyamor]

grand theft autumn (where is your boy tonight?) | P.SH

Pairing: Seonghwa x fem!reader

Summary: New towns often mean new beginnings. But for Seonghwa, he’s determined to hate his new home until the end of time. Until you come along. 

w.c.: 3.8k

warnings: humor, some fluff, cursing, angst 

author’s note: I’ve never really written super angsty stuff so this was a little experiment I took on to challenge myself a bit! please feel free to leave feedback of any kind and I hope you all enjoy~

where is your boy tonight? I hope he is a gentleman/maybe he won’t find out what I know, you were the last good thing about this part of town

Park Seonghwa is seven years old when he decides he hates his parents. 

Not literally, but he’s mad enough to pout in the backseat of their little family sedan the entire eight-hour drive it takes to relocate their family from their old home to the middle of nowhere. 

Again, not quite the middle of nowhere, but if seven-year-old Park Seonghwa is anything, it’s dramatic. 

The day his parents had sat him down at their dining table and told him they would be moving was one of the worst days of his life. 

That Saturday had been unlike any other. With both of his parents working full-time, Seonghwa was often left to his own devices. But this particular day, both of his parents had taken the day off. They took him everywhere he wanted, including the county fair that he had been begging to go to for weeks. They even bought him the Lego Star Wars set he had been wanting, but his parents deemed ‘too expensive’. 

Seonghwa had often wondered to himself what the point of working all the time was if his parents never had any money. 

After a busy day of doing nothing but things he wanted to do, Seonghwa was on cloud nine. Nothing could change his mind that this was the best day ever. 

Until suddenly it wasn’t. 

Packing had been a blur. 

His parents had encouraged him to make piles of toys and clothes that he no longer wanted and would donate, claiming that the objects would make other little kids very, very happy. Seonghwa conceded, but not without a few tears. 

After packing their belongings into a few boxes, his parents ushered everyone into the car and next thing he knew, Seonghwa was watching his childhood home grow smaller and smaller through the rearview mirror. 

When they finally arrived to their new home, Seonghwa refused to get out of the car. He sat stubbornly in the backseat, arms crossed and eyebrows furrowed. His mom tried encouraging him to get out, telling him about how big his new room would be while his dad just sighed and stepped out of the car. 

It wasn’t until both of his parents were out of the car and inside the new house that Seonghwa began to get a little freaked out by the unknown and hurriedly unbuckled his seatbelt, bolting out of the car and into the new house. 

As he sat in his new room that was empty and dusty and he’s pretty sure had homed a small family of roaches, Seonghwa vowed to always hate this new town. 

-

Park Seonghwa is nine years old when a new girl arrives in his class. 

Up until this point in his short life, Seonghwa would say he’s done a fairly good job at keeping his promise. His school is small and not many kids attempted to befriend him when he started. The teachers are old and don’t really care about anything other than making it through the day with their sanity still in tact. His mom found a job that allowed her to stay home most days of the week, but she was always more preoccupied with talking to the other moms in the neighborhood, while his dad continues to work all the time. 

Although it was lonely at first, Seonghwa is resourceful, if anything. He knows how to keep himself entertained and he’s grown to appreciate the solitude, even as a nine-year-old. 

It’s the beginning of the school day when his teacher stands up to make an announcement. Which will be difficult considering all the students are practically screaming at the top of their lungs. 

“Class, please quiet down.”

Seonghwa pities the woman. 

“Today, we have a new classmate joining us!” A small girl with short hair and choppy bangs stands next to the teacher, fumbling with her lunchbag. 

“This is (Y/n) and I hope that everyone here does their best to make her feel welcome.” The teacher looks down at the girl and sends her a small smile. 

“Go ahead and take a seat next to Seonghwa, sweetie. Seonghwa, raise your hand please!”

Seonghwa raises his hand and watches alongside the entire class as the new girl makes her way awkwardly down the aisle to her new seat.

Once she sits down, the teacher claps her hands and tells the class to take out their things so they can begin the lesson. Seonghwa says nothing to the new girl who now occupies what used to be his backpack’s seat. 

It isn’t until the girl takes out a sparkly purple pencil alongside a Darth Vader eraser that Seonghwa says something. 

“I like your eraser,” he whispers. 

The girl looks at him through the corner of her eyes. 

“Thanks.”

-

Park Seonghwa is twelve years old when he realizes how annoying people can be.

After your initial introduction in elementary school, Seonghwa had invited you to play with him at recess and lunch. After all, anyone who liked Star Wars was obviously a good choice of friend. 

From then on, you and Seonghwa had become inseparable. Wherever Seonghwa went, (Y/n) followed, and wherever (Y/n) went, Seonghwa followed. 

And although starting middle school was terrifying, Seonghwa found it easier with someone by his side. He had been a little worried that starting middle school would mean he would lose his best friend, but (Y/n)’s angry face and the way she slapped his arm and called him stupid when he voiced these feelings reassured him he had nothing to worry about. 

Seonghwa had grown a little bit, so had (Y/n), and they had found new friends, but no one could ever replace the role they had in each other’s lives. 

He’s sitting with some of the other boys in his class working on a science worksheet when a loud “PSSST” breaks his concentration. Seonghwa looks up, mildly annoyed. 

“What?” he whispers. 

The three boys that sit at his table grin. 

“Is it true you and (Y/n) are dating?”

Seonghwa startles, dropping his pencil on the floor and, in an attempt to pick it up, knocks over his water bottle. The entire class stares at him and Seonghwa feels his neck and ears burn. 

“What?”

One of the boys rolls his eyes. 

“You guys are like, always hanging out together. Obviously you two have to be dating.” 

Seonghwa makes a face. 

“We’re just friends,” he replies, looking back down at his worksheet. 

“uh-huh,” the boys say sarcastically. 

“Besides,” Seonghwa continues. “Girls are gross. Why would I want to date one?” 

Later that evening, when Seonghwa retells this story to you as you both sit on the grass in his backyard, he honestly should have expected the hard slap you deliver to his shoulder. 

“Girls are not gross!” You shouted. “If anything, boys are gross AND stupid.” 

You stick your tongue out at him and Seonghwa laughs. 

As you two lay down watching the sun fade away and the moon takes its place, Seonghwa decides maybe he won’t always hate this town. 

-

Park Seonghwa is fourteen when he has his first kiss. 

Technically speaking, it’s both of your guys’ first kiss. 

The two of you were older now, both in high school and simultaneously incredibly far away and way too close to being adults. 

Seonghwa sits at your desk, working on his history essay while you lay across your bed groaning over something. You had been talking about something, but most of it had gone straight into one of Seonghwa’s ears and out the other. Not that he didn’t care about your problems, but at the current moment, he kind of didn’t care. 

“So will you help me?” Your voice breaks his concentration. 

“Huh?” Seonghwa doesn’t look away from his paper nor does he stop writing. 

“Will you teach me how to kiss someone?” 

Seonghwa’s heart jumps and now there’s a dark blue line running across half of his paper. 

He turns around slowly and wide-eyed. You’re sitting cross-legged and staring at him expectantly. 

Seonghwa says nothing. 

You sigh and look away, mumbling a “nevermind” under your breath. 

“Wait, no, I’m just-” Seonghwa stumbles over his words. “I’m just-confused? How do you want me to help? Why do you want me to help?”

He stares at you as you look down and fiddle with your hands. Seonghwa’s known you for long enough to recognize your fidgeting as nervousness and discomfort. 

The thought of you being uncomfortable around him makes him frown.

You whisper something and Seonghwa leans forward to try and catch what you’re saying. 

“Dude I can’t hear you-”

“I want you to be my first kiss!” You shout. 

Seonghwa thinks he hears the windows error sound. 

Apparently his silence freaks you out even further because you continue to talk, rushing and stumbling over every other word.

“It’s just, like, embarrassing, yaknow? Everyone else has had their first kiss, and I mean we’re in high school and I haven’t had mine yet and my friends keep asking me and I know they’re going to tease me when I tell them and I just don’t really want my first kiss to be with someone random which is why I figured I would ask you because you’re my best friend and I trust you but I also don’t want to make things weird so if you don’t want to that’s fine I just thought I would ask.” 

“I’ll do it.” 

Seonghwa wants to throw himself out of your window. 

“You will?” 

You look at him with such happiness in your eyes that Seonghwa knows he can’t back out now.

He nods. 

“Thank you!” you beam at him before scooting over and patting the empty space on your bed.

“W-wait, like, right now?” Seonghwa stutters. 

You shrug. 

Seonghwa lets out a small “okay” before getting up from the desk chair. He’s sat on your bed a million times before, but now, it feels like the distance between the chair and your bed is a million miles long. Seonghwa’s suddenly very aware of everything as he awkwardly makes his way over to you. His legs feel too wobbly, his heart is pounding and his hands are sweaty. 

He finally sits down next to you, but refuses to make eye contact. 

“We can’t do this if you don’t look at me,” you remark dryly. 

“Right,” Seonghwa clears his throat. 

He turns to face you and now he’s even more hyper-aware of all the sounds and smells in the room. 

Have you always had a mole next to your nose?

“Just so you know, I haven’t kissed anyone either,” Seonghwa blurts out when you close your eyes. 

He watches as you open them and meet his eyes and shrug. 

“I mean, I don’t care, that’s the whole point of this, right? Practice?”

You furrow your eyebrows. 

“Unless you wanted to wait for someone special, then we don’t have to do this-”

Seonghwa’s head shaking cuts you off. 

“No, I wasn’t waiting for anything. I just wanted you to know that I don’t know what I’m doing either.”

The smile you send Seonghwa makes his stomach feel weird. 

At age fourteen Seonghwa has his first kiss-with you, his best friend. 

It’s clumsy and awkward and the two of you hit your noses more than you would like to admit, but something about it makes Seonghwa feel happy. 

Content.

-

Park Seonghwa is sixteen when he admits he’s in love with you. 

After that night in your bedroom, after a few too many times of the two of you awkwardly bumping noses or teeth or turning your head the wrong way, there was an unspoken agreement to not talk about it. Seonghwa believed it was because you were embarrassed. Maybe he was a bad kisser or maybe his breath smelled bad or maybe you thought kissing him was a mistake. Or maybe, just maybe, it didn’t mean anything other than just that.

Practice. 

But that thought hurt the most. 

See, because while to you it might not have meant anything, just a way to ensure you would never have to undergo the embarrassment of admitting you had never kissed anyone before, it had meant everything to Seonghwa. 

After Seonghwa had gone home that night, he couldn’t stop thinking about it, about you. 

It had been five years since he met you and all it took was one kiss to flip his entire world upside down. True to teen fashion, Seonghwa did his best to ignore these newfound feelings. How cliche, to fall in love with your best friend just because of one kiss. Like many other problems in his life, Seonghwa elected the easy way out. To ignore the problem and hope it goes away. 

Except the problem, his feelings, never did. 

In fact, they continued to grow and grow and grow every single time Seonghwa saw you in person (which was a lot, considering you two are best friends). 

And it seems that ignoring the problem has come back to bite him in the ass as he watches you bounce around in your seat, the harsh lighting of the crappy little diner you two sat in doing nothing to compliment anyone’s features. 

Seonghwa still thinks you’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen, though. 

“What?” he asks, eyes darting away from his chocolate milkshake to meet your eyes. 

“He asked me out!” you squeal, reaching over to dip a french fry in Seonghwa’s milkshake. 

He grumbles, smacking your hand away but not with any real hostility. He decided long ago he would let you dip as many fries as you wanted in his shakes, even if it meant giving up half of it. 

Seonghwa stays quiet, eyes focused on the neon “open” sign that rests on the window behind your head. 

“Hwa?” 

He looks back at you, your head tilted slightly and eyebrows furrowed. 

“Aren’t you going to say something?” 

Oh. 

Right. 

“That’s awesome (Y/n),” Seonghwa forces a smile onto his face. It feels wrong, saying those words and forcing his face to do something when his heart wants him to do the opposite. 

Seonghwa’s thoughts are filled with nothing but if only’s.

If only you didn’t share a class with that guy. If only you didn’t think he was attractive. If only you never asked him to kiss you. If only you never moved to his town. If only he had the guts to tell you he’s in love with you.

But if only’s will get him nowhere.

Seonghwa can tell you don’t believe him, especially with the blank stare you send his way. 

Nonetheless, Seonghwa can’t find it in himself to try and reassure you that he’s happy for you, because he’s really not. 

You don’t say anything though, you just grab another fry and dunk it in his shake before plopping it in your mouth. 

“Don’t worry,” you start through your chewing. Seonghwa grimaces. “If anything happens, you’ll be the first to know and I give you full permission to beat his ass.”

You grin and Seonghwa smiles back. 

Right. 

-

The date doesn’t end up going great. 

“He was nice,” you had said, “but something about him is just, off, I guess.” 

Seonghwa nodded silently. 

He feels slightly guilty for the way his brain and heart jump with joy over the news. 

-

Park Seonghwa is eighteen when he realizes he has no clue what he wants to do with his life. 

Unlike other kids his age, Seonghwa considers himself to have a fairly good memory. He can remember most things that have ever happened in his life, ranging from good to bad memories, which often comes in handy when he wants to write sentimental gift cards or simply press play in his brain to make a diy slideshow of every moment he’s ever shared with you. 

But sometimes the memories bother him. 

Seonghwa vividly remembers being seven years old and sitting in his old family car after his parents uprooted his entire life. Seonghwa remembers vowing to always hate this town that he’s called home for the past eleven years.

And despite that vow, despite that hatred he still somewhat holds in his heart for this sad, old town the two of you live in, he can’t find any reason to leave it. 

By this point in the year, most students have already applied to college. Some have chosen to stay, some have chosen to go far, far away, and some decide they would rather not continue school at all, which Seonghwa thinks is fair. 

Unlike those other students, Seonghwa hasn’t even decided where he wants to go. His parents and teachers continue to ask him what he wants to do, what he wants to study, and his response is the same every time. 

A small shrug of his shoulders and turning his attention back to whatever he was doing prior. 

The uncertainty scares him, if he’s being honest. Not knowing what he wants to do with his life and not even knowing if he’s willing to follow through with the same vow his seven-year-old self made. 

Seonghwa admits all of this to you one night. 

Like many other nights, the two of you lay on the grass in his backyard. He offered to get a blanket, so you wouldn’t have to lay on the wet grass, but you waved him off. 

“It’s part of the experience,” you had said. 

The sun has long been set, but neither of you make any attempt to move from where you lay elbow to elbow, watching the moon and the stars. 

Seonghwa is slightly out of breath by the time he finishes his rant. It feels good to get that off his chest, the heavy thoughts of uncertainty and disappointment lurking in his brain and weighing him down for the past few months. 

You reassure him that it’s okay that he has not even the slightest idea of what he wants to do. That school and society are stupid for forcing literal children to decide what they want to do with their lives at such a young and complicated age, and you’re sure that there’s a million other kids out there who feel the same way.

Your speech is passionate and fiery, one of the many things Seonghwa admires about you, and he can’t help but feel grateful that the universe has given him the bestest friend he could ask for.

Seonghwa smiles at you, and links your pinkies together before turning his back to stare up at the sky. It’s quiet for a few moments before he hears you speak again.

“I want to leave.”

Seonghwa turns his head to face you, but you don’t look back at him. Your head remains forward, eyes flitting around to look at the constellations above.

Neither of you say anything else.

-

Park Seonghwa is 19 years old when he sees you for the last time.

Graduation had come and gone, and although high school was not quite as grand as it had appeared in the movies, Seonghwa couldn’t help but be proud of you both. You survived, despite everything, and you finally made it to the end (of this chapter, at least).

Seonghwa eventually realized he couldn’t quite find it in his heart to leave this town. It was small and old and didn’t have much, but something about it had wormed it’s way into Seonghwa’s heart until he eventually admitted that parting ways might not be the best idea. For now, at least. He was satisfied with getting a job, spending some more time with his parents, and taking some courses at the local college.

Up until now, you had never mentioned your plans about the future to Seonghwa. He would never tell you this, but that night when you admitted you wanted to leave scared him. After all, you two had been as thick as thieves for the better part of your lives. What would happen if you did leave? Who would Seonghwa be without you?

But, you never mentioned your plans to leave again, and so he allowed himself to sink back into the comfort of blissful ignorance and convinced himself that that would not be a problem, and definitely not so soon.

But now, as Seonghwa stands watching as you place your final box into your car, he can feel his entire world crashing around him.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” you say, standing in front of him.

Seonghwa says nothing. His eyes continue to dart back and forth between your face and the car.

“Why-” Seonghwa’s voice cracks. “Why would you not tell me?”

He swallows.

“I thought we were best friends.”

He knows his words hurt, but at this moment, Seonghwa can’t really find it in himself to care about the way you flinch at his statement. Words hurt, but Seonghwa can feel his life falling apart around him.

“We were! We are.” Your eyes look at every corner of his face.

“But I need to get out of here Hwa,” your voice is soft. “It’s so suffocating, being here and seeing the same people and doing the same things.”

Seonghwa tries to ignore the way his heart pangs at your choice of words.

“I just feel like if I want to live a happy life, if I want to be grow into a person that I’m going to be proud of, then I need to leave. I need to experience other things and meet new people.”

You reach out and gently grab Seonghwa’s hand.

“I think you of all people should know that feeling.”

Seonghwa swallows.

There’s a million things he wants to say, but there’s also nothing he can say.

He does know what you mean. He thinks he might know it better than anybody else. That doesn’t change the fact that part of him feels like you’re leaving him behind.

It’s quiet for a long moment as the two of you stand alone on the road with your hands interlocked.

Seonghwa clears his throat.

“You’ve always been the braver one between us,” he squeezes your hand. “Be happy.”

He sends you a big smile, but he can feel the tears slowly making their way down his cheeks.

Your own eyes are shiny with unshed tears, and you squeeze his hand back.

“Until next time?” You ask, hopeful.

Seonghwa nods.

“Until next time.”

You let go of his hand and Seonghwa watches as it falls back next to his side.

He watches you climb into the driver’s seat of the car and listens to the engine as it comes to life.

With a final wave, Seonghwa watches as your car drives away, past the line of trees on your street, past the town line and away from him.

Standing alone in the middle of the road, Park Seonghwa makes a vow to hate this town for the rest of his life.

                                       ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

[volostogekiss]

five moments when he realized how much he’s in love with you:

Warnings: Mention of suicide/death, very depressed Volo (with bad thoughts), suggested/mild violence.

GN!reader, strong reader ngl, hurt/comfort, the whole thing with Volo.. y’know. This got away from me (it’s long), and I really can’t say much about this besides I wanted to see what Volo was thinking when it came to the one he loves. :’)

1 | when you showed him the new plates you’d gathered

To put it mildly, you were fond of Volo.

To put it truthfully… you were terribly captivated by him.

It couldn’t be helped, you tried persuading yourself, since he was a rather lovely man. He’d been kind to you during all of your encounters, or perhaps it was that the majority of other villagers and Hisuian people had made it easy for you to commend any decently sympathetic behavior, really.

Either way, it was hard to repress your growing feelings for the beautiful, bright, silly little merchant.

You didn’t believe that he was just a trader, not with his ability to appear without warning like a swift spring downpour, drenching you before you had a chance to locate shelter. That was quite like him too, in how he could flood you with knowledge of all the history Hisui had to share, and yet, you still felt as if he knew something you didn’t.

Unfortunately, that only fascinated you even more.

He wasn’t like anyone else in Hisui who you knew.

True, you didn’t know many people here, but there was just something about him which complicated forgetting about him like all the rest.

Maybe it was because Volo treated you gently—like a friend, that dreamy mess of your mind suggested—and after months of being downtrodden and judged without reprieve, that was what you needed to feel alive again.

To feel cared for, to feel loved.

The beginning of your budding attraction had sprouted from his understanding advice, his surely unfounded concern for a stranger like you, and admittedly—although somewhat exaggerated in your opinion—his startling praise.

You liked to think the two of you were friends. To be fair, you knew a bit about him, that he enjoyed exploring ruins and historical sites and poring over ancient artifacts and manuscripts. When you decided on finding him for once, rather than the other way around, you told yourself as much.

You told yourself as much, so that you wouldn’t have to concede that there was another reason, concealed by your practical need for a translator, behind wanting to find him.

The past few weeks, you’d been searching for him between survey tasks to no avail, and you’d had a feeling that perhaps the man was just unwilling to be found.

If only you had known how true that had been, and that Volo enjoyed being the one to seek, rather than be sought.

On your way back to the village after a grueling expedition, it had crossed your mind that he might be craftier than you’d first suspected, and that the certain guile about him wasn’t just for wheedling a customer into buying his guild’s latest stock.

And of course, while you were pondering him, that was when he had found you.

Of course, it was when you weren’t out looking for him any longer, did he show up.

Though despite that, and despite how tired you were… you still felt yourself perking up when you saw him.

Volo was the same as always, carrying that massive pack and meandering about without a care in the world. And as he crested one of the slopes leading up to Aspiration Hill, he chirped your name, waved with a flourish like he typically did, and caused your heart to thud a bit more loudly in your chest.

You were glad to see him.

Yet you were oblivious to how painfully glad he was to see you.

He looked forward to finding you whenever he could, and he wasn’t sure when exactly it had happened. Maybe it was because you were the one who fell from the sky, maybe it was because you humored him, or maybe it was because you had a habit of keenly listening to his theories for hours. Cogita didn’t appreciate how he often prattled on—actually, he wasn’t sure anyone else did—but you…

You’d said you liked his voice, and Volo had paused, unable to say anything until you laughed.

From then on, Volo couldn’t fathom it, but every time he saw you, he had found it more and more difficult to lock away those feelings.

They welled up in his chest when he called your name again.

However, instead of returning his greeting, the first thing you did was to charge right over the hill and yell at him.

“HEY!”

At your unwarranted outburst, Volo was caught between utter shock and hiding his blatant amusement at how ruffled you were, a sight he didn’t often witness. As though confirming that you’d really been addressing him though, he merely aimed an index finger at himself.

“Yeah, you! Why are you so hard to find!?”

The merchant swore that you’d mumbled something else underneath your breath, but he was too absorbed in the fact that you’d been searching for him. Ah. A knowing grin was already curling onto his lips.

Despite how busy you were, you were looking for him. What did that say about what you thought of him?

Never one to miss an opportunity to tease you, Volo cocked his head to the side with a mischievous chuckle. “If I had known you were looking for me, my dearest friend, I would’ve surely shown up sooner!”

You did your best to remain unfazed by his pleasant words; with righteous indignation, you crossed your arms, attempting to keep up the act. Stupid, pretty merchant, too damn handsome for his own good.

…This was bad, and you needed to wake up.

“Might I know why you were so diligently looking for me?”

Volo now wiggled that pointer finger at you, and even as you fought against the urge, you wondered what it would be like to hold his hand in yours.

Warm, probably.

You pushed aside the thought, however, and averted your eyes to your satchel. You needed to compose yourself.

“Well, I remembered you’d wanted to see the plate I’d gotten from Lord Kleavor.” Fumbling in your bag for all the others you’d obtained since last running into Volo, you leveled your breathing and collected yourself. “You told me how excited you were about them, and that you were searching for a few yourself in the coastlands.”

You risked a sideways glance at him.

He hadn’t said anything, but his grin had widened, the dimple deepening beside the right of lips.

It was as if he’d been prompting you to go on, that he was interested, that he was raptly hanging onto each of your words.

So, even with your wobbling, smitten heart, you took a breath to ground yourself, then went on, “I figured since you really liked taking a look at them before, and I’m curious about them, why not show you the new ones I found so far…?”

While you withdrew a first pair of pink and brown plates from your bag, you trailed off, thankfully, for Volo was astounded, if only for a second.

You… remembered that about him. You’d come to him because you’d remembered he’d liked them.

When was the last time someone else had done that?

Almost instinctively, he was wading through a familiar melancholy at the realization, but it receded quickly when he saw how eager you appeared, how you really wanted to be around him.

“Oh, how generous of you!” laughed Volo, his tone lively as he tried to distract you from his temporary shock. “It seems you already know me, don’t you?”

He wasn’t prepared for your response, however.

You simply smiled at him.

But this smile was different than any of yours he’d seen before.

This one…

This one reached your eyes.

It brought a distinct joy to your face that was never present when you were around anyone else, almost private in how you’d guarded such an expression so vigilantly, and he suddenly, irrationally wished he could keep it for himself. He wished you would always turn to him with that smile, instead of wearing that unreadable, neutral look you’d been coerced into adopting everywhere you went in Hisui.

Oh. Against his prudent sense for what he would one day need to accomplish, Volo’s heart trembled at the thought, and that smile seemed to seal his fate.

It was then that he knew that things wouldn’t be as easy as he’d thought they’d be.

“Well, apparently not well enough to find you when I’ve been trying for weeks,” you confessed with a cheeky hum, “but that just means I’ll have to get to know you really well now, doesn’t it Volo?”

He blinked once, twice.

“You were looking for me for weeks?”

“Of course, I was!” That smile was still on your face. “You’re the only one who I could talk to about these things!”

When he’d taken in your words and seen your beaming face, all just for him, a blooming sensation of warmth and contentment flooded his heart—his poor, stony heart, having spent an eternity in isolation.

Volo wouldn’t let you know that, however, as he tipped the lid of his hat toward you and announced cheerily, “Then, the pleasure is all mine.”

You laughed, handed him the two plates, and winked at him.

“I think it’s all mine, actually.”

And Volo was sure, at that moment, even though he really should have tried to stop himself,

he loved you more than he should have. 

2 | when you appeared out of snow and ice

Volo knew that you were strong.

While that should’ve posed a problem for him and his future plans, the ridiculous empathy���yes, just empathy, he told himself—he had for you was overriding every clear thought he had about marching off across the snowy expanse and ignoring you.

It wasn’t as though you were fighting a colossus of ice, capable of ending your very life with just a snort of his glacial breath or a toss of his enormous head, rigid and unable to be tempered by anything other than brutal nature itself.

It wasn’t as though his heart jolted and splintered just a bit more every time he heard the thundering echo of the noble’s roar, felt its sinister tremor quaking beneath the earth.

He was as worried as anyone else was, he told himself again. That was why he was waiting like the others, albeit from a more distant and secure vantage.

Although, Volo supposed he wouldn’t be very safe if you were defeated and Lord Avalugg’s rampage turned deadly, so he thought it best you subdue it.

Yes, that was all.

He stamped his feet once, rubbed at his arms with his frozen fingers, and sighed again, a great puff of chalky mist rising into the frosty air.

…

But still, his heart betrayed his true feelings.

Regardless of how he tried to tint it, it was that ingratiating worry which gradually began to chill him more than the arctic weather, and he probably wouldn’t be able to hide how cold it had made him for long.

You were strong.

So why couldn’t he stop worrying?

No, Volo couldn’t cease his pitiful worrying. He couldn’t at all when with a somber cry, the icelands then fell silent, the snow once more lying in innocent clouds, and everything dulled to its lifeless shade of pale gray.

Despite his inability to see into the mire of white settling above him, his heart was brimming with hope before he could dampen it. He didn’t know how long it’d been since you’d gone to fight. Though with every minute he’d spent pacing tiny circles at the base of the mountain and imagining what could’ve gone horrendously wrong, he knew he couldn’t convince himself there was nothing personal about the way he was concerned for you.

No, he couldn’t. And he couldn’t hide his worry, melting away into unbridled relief, when finally, finally you emerged from the haze of snow and ice that had been leisurely walking its way down the slope, committed to concealing you from him for far too long.

Volo wasn’t sure when he had started running. He had heard the starchy snow crunching beneath his boots, but then he heard nothing else when you cried his name.

“Volo!”

“…!”

And then he was smiling. He was shouting your name. He was still running toward you.

The way you lit up and hobbled toward him as quickly as you could, despite how you were bruised and winded and exhausted, made the worry all worth it.

Volo knew everything was worth it, for you. 

3 | when no one else wanted you—

He saw you.

He saw you, crouching atop the grassy stones high above the fieldlands waterfall.

Every muscle in his body commanded him to rush forward, but he didn’t want to frighten you. It was a first, considering how often he liked to see you jump and whirl around to face him. You didn’t this time though, your hunched figure instead sluggishly rocking back and forth as your Decidueye huddled against you.

…because you were hurt.

Volo had seen you smattered with cuts, he had seen you worn from your battles, and he had seen you doubt yourself when you thought no one else was looking.

However, he had never seen you like this before.

You were devastated.

They had really hurt you more than they ever had before.

Volo almost wanted to curse aloud. Why would they do this to you? You had done nothing to them to warrant this—if he thought about it, he was the one to be indirectly guilty—and yet…!

…Was he really any better than them, though? He wasn’t supposed to love you, but here he was, his allegiances like dead branches clinging miserably to the tree, swaying whichever direction the wind decided it fancied, and waiting for the day they inevitably fell to uselessness.

Shaking his head, Volo dismissed the thought. No, he was better than those villagers, those people from the clans. He didn’t betray you like they had.

Yet, hissed that infernal voice in his head.

Volo didn’t want to think about it.

And he didn’t have to then, for Decidueye had straightened immediately, poised for an attack.

It was to be expected, wasn’t it? He hadn’t thought you the careless type to forgo cautiousness, especially after everything you’d just gone through, so it didn’t surprise him to see you abruptly still when your Pokémon growled.

Justifiably, your partner was wary of any more humans who might approach you.

Lifting his hands to show that he wanted no trouble, Volo held Decidueye’s gaze for a long, scrutinizing second.

It took another few before the Pokémon eventually dropped his wings to his sides.

Still, Decidueye seemed to be warning him as his sharp eyes flicked from Volo to the water racing under the ledge they were perched upon: I will not hesitate to remove you if you bring more harm to us.

Volo knew better than to antagonize your Pokémon. Silently, he nodded in acknowledgement, which appeared to satisfy Decidueye, and he then lowered his arms.

He looked at you again.

You still hadn’t moved, but you definitely knew he was there.

…He should say something, shouldn’t he?

His voice was hushed when he finally found something to say to you—not what he truly wished to say, but what he could manage from everything you knew of him.

Something that wouldn’t sound odd, coming from him. Something that would reassure you that he was still the same, even if everyone else you knew had changed. Even as Volo had thought it, he wasn’t sure he believed it, but he wasn’t about to question himself now.

You needed him to be the person you’d always known him as—the merchant, the historian, the friend you could rely on.

And so he would be.

“Strange events seem to follow you wherever you go, don’t they?”

You said nothing, but Volo didn’t press you. He knew you had heard him over the churning water.

Slowly, instead, he found his place beside you. He moved tentatively under Decidueye’s apprehensive supervision, reminding him of what would happen if he faltered.

Nonetheless, it was promising that you hadn’t pushed him away.

You permitted him to come closer, in fact, and as he shifted slightly so that his shoulder was practically touching yours, he swore you almost leaned into him.

He could feel how warm you were, even as a light breeze streaked past, but he remained where he was.

He would wait for as long as you needed.

While Volo had trekked up the cliffside, the ominous, crimson sun had been burning lowly, descending toward the charred horizon. Now, as he squinted at the warped and discolored sky, he could see it was nearly touching the mountains.

He didn’t mind that you hadn’t said anything, though it was worrying you had probably sequestered yourself here for quite a while. Volo knew when you had been banished—the miscreants hadn’t even allowed you to wake with the stretch of unnatural dawn—and given the supposed time of day now, it was certainly alarming.

“I think I should still be mad.”

Your voice was so muffled and tired and unlike anything Volo had ever known from you, that even as the noise of the surging waterfall rang in the air, he only heard you.

He was fixated only on you.

“Shouldn’t I be mad?” Your hands were curling over your arms; thankfully, Volo noticed no injuries on them. “I did everything—I fucking did everything for them, and then they threw me away when it was convenient for them.”

You sighed, flattened a leg against the ground, and slapped a hand down in frustration.

“If I stayed angry, it would help me forget about everything else, wouldn’t it? I could be so lost in how angry I was that I wouldn’t even know what I should be mad at anymore… But now I just feel empty. I don’t even know where I should go. Where I can go.”

Something stirred in Volo’s heart. He understood what that hollowness, that void felt like, but he didn’t want to imagine your suffering, screaming at nothing, tearing at yourself.

How pathetic that they couldn’t appreciate you.

They didn’t deserve you.

“If you’ll trust me,” Volo offered, and he was then aware of how you had finally raised your head, “I know of somewhere safe for you.”

You were staring at him now, though Volo had turned away from you.

He had asked you to trust him, but a shard of guilt was steadily wedging itself into the cracks of his heart.

Maybe he didn’t deserve you either.

“Volo…”

But when his name fell from your lips so reverently, he forgot that guilt. It was too easy to forget when it came to you, until it wasn’t. He needed to be here for you, and what that meant for his future, he would deal with then.

“I trust you.”

He turned back to you, saw your face for the first time since he’d arrived, and then he was pulling you close.

He wouldn’t ever forget that look upon your face.

“I will always appreciate you, even if they won’t.”

“…Thank you. It means a lot that you decided to look for me, even if that would put you in danger of their judgment, too.”

Their judgment means nothing when I will always love you.

He only tugged you closer.

You were fully leaning into him now, languishing for comfort in your vulnerable state, and Volo would give you exactly that.

It seemed you thought the same, for when Volo covered your hand with his, he finally felt you relax against him, enough so that you could speak again.

“You said that strange events seem to follow me wherever I go.”

“Yes.”

“But I think even stranger people seem to follow me, you know,” you said meaningfully, your fingers curling between his, “people who want me for who I am, unlike all the others.”

His heart fluttered. He squeezed your hand in his own answer.

Oh, you had no idea how much Volo wanted you, and no one else wanted you like he did. 

4 | the fated day on mount coronet

He wanted to apologize for being the reason you had such a look on your face. He was the one who had hurt you. He wanted to tell you that he had never meant it, but in some malevolent fold of his mind he had. He couldn’t stand it. He wanted to forget about everything. He wanted to start over, and if you had just let him—given him exactly what he wanted (but what had he truly wanted?)—then you could’ve begun again together, in a new world.

So he could have told you honestly that he loved you.

But he couldn’t.

Volo didn’t know what he could say, as you trapped him beneath you, your hands shackles around his wrists. Painted with fiery wrath as the setting sun outlined you in vivid gold, you were truly a sight to behold when you snarled his name and demanded why he had done this.

There had to be something else wrong in his mind for him to still think you were stunning amid your ire.

“Tell me.”

Your knees dug into his sides, the flexing of your hips on his distracting him for a disgraceful moment. He had let his guard down after Giratina had fled, and then here he was, pinned and at the mercy of your questioning. It was ironic he had intended to subject Arceus to the same, to wring answers from it as you were with him. He laughed. He laughed again when your grip tightened and your nails pinched his skin. Though as the creator always remained silent, he would say nothing you wanted to hear. Volo was sure his violent sneer said plenty, but when he forced himself to say something—anything, anything to pretend this had all been a farce—he knew he shouldn’t have said it.

“I hate you.”

He shouldn’t have said it. Not when your expression had then broken like a sheet of river ice, shattered by the unfortunate soul of his words that meant to drown your heart in the frigid water below. Yes, I should have. Volo wanted to convince himself that he was right to have said it. After all, you were the Chosen One, weren’t you?

You had stolen everything from him—his place before Arceus, his dreams, his world. And in it all, as foolish as he had known it was, for you were never once truly his, you had stolen even yourself from him.

It was unsurprising how much he had wanted you, and yet, he should have known how absurd those feelings were.

You should have stayed far from him; he should have made sure of it. But throughout the time you had spent with one another, months after months, you had somehow become a part of that everything he had worked for, yearned for, and so impossibly devoted himself to.

And then, you had almost become his everything too—his reason, his muse, threatening to change his mind about the plan he had set in motion long before your arrival in Hisui.

Why couldn’t you have just agreed with him?

He had shoved you off himself in your weakness, watched you fall back before springing to your feet and shouting words he told himself he couldn’t hear.

You could’ve made this easy, but you… Volo had snapped again. You just had to get in my way, with your infuriating heroism, your disgusting perseverance, your impeccable talent in battle, your delightful smile, your heart so full of love for—!

Perhaps that was why he had said he hated you. To blame you, even though Volo knew the fault was only in himself. Because he had allowed you to get in his way. Because he loved you too much to just let you go without hurting you, because he had known that you would never acquiesce to his ambitions, because he had been too stubborn to stop himself when the plates were so close, and you were so close.

But he had forced you away with his fury, tossed the final plate to you, and wished he would never see you again.

Volo had told you that too, when he abandoned you on the temple summit. Because I hate you. Because I’ve failed. Because I’m ashamed. Because I don’t deserve you. Because I—

…if he really hated you, why, then, as his feet took him farther and farther from you with every step, did his heart wish to wrench from his chest just to be with you?

No, it never could’ve been easy.

He knew why.

Because I love you.

And he always would, no matter how many times he lied to himself.

5 | when you’d found one another again, after everything

Volo should’ve known that despite his vicious words, spiked with poison and disdain and bitterness, you wouldn’t give up on him.

After all, your tenacity was one of the things he loved about you. He just hadn’t expected you to waste the entirety of it on him, so that you could cut away the thorns protecting his heart.

They were ugly spires of tarred anger and hatred, meant to seal the cracks in his heart, but never meant to heal the wounds inflicted upon him from all the awful things he could not easily let go.

All this time, he had hardly been living, fueled only by his warped sense of selfishness and selflessness between which he could no longer differentiate.

But every day, you snipped at another barb. Some days, you wrestled it off harshly. Other days, he tolerated your gentleness in prying it free. Even when you allowed those thorns to snag at you with no concern for your own safety, when you still stayed despite how he pushed you away, Volo didn’t want to admit that you were giving life back to him, one breath at a time.

If he did, he knew he would break.

And there would be no turning back for him.

“You just wish to see me break,” he’d spat at you, “so that it can be your retribution.”

Volo knew it wasn’t true. I was the one who wanted to see you break. You knew as well. He didn’t want to say that he was only lashing out, but you knew anyway.

On those days when you had to fight to twist the thorns from his heart, he would insist on wielding his insults, once more build his inadequate defenses in a futile effort to weather your assault of compassion, and scoff at how you wouldn’t just let him be.

“I forgive you, you know.”

That was always your response. If he offended you, you never said anything about it. You would only smile at him afterwards.

But the smile never reached your eyes.

And it was his fault.

He sometimes wished you would be angry with him instead, as you had been on Mount Coronet.

It had been months since his betrayal, or at least, that was how long Volo had thought it had been. Certain there were people hunting him for what he’d done, he had been wandering ever since, with no place to go but wherever his body next gave up on him. He knew he was disappointing his Pokémon. He had resorted to leaving them in their capsules, for he couldn’t bear to see their sorrow and claim responsibility for it. Every day had seemed too long for him. He had no purpose anymore, and he wouldn’t deny that he often considered if it would’ve been better for him to dwindle away without a trace.

He wouldn’t be missed, anyway.

…So why was he here?

Volo wasn’t sure if it had been weeks he’d spent in your secluded alcove, a series of rising caves carved over centuries by the highest tides of new moons. He didn’t ask when you had learned of this place, beyond the flats and by the West Sea, but you knew he was curious. It was obvious to you; most people knew he was curious about many things.

He was surprised you indulged him still: You told him that Wyrdeer had wanted to take you here when you’d called upon him after your exile.

You didn’t say why you hadn’t been able to reach the caves, though.

Volo knew why. Having seen you that day above the waterfall, he needed no more explanation. He didn’t deserve an explanation either, not when he had hurt you the same way.

No, he had hurt you more than they had.

So why hadn’t he left you yet?

He could’ve left whenever he had threatened to do so. When he had initially declared it with such vehemence, you had just agreed, shrugged, and moved on with your chores.

Somehow, your passive reply had only encouraged him to remain where he was. It was another challenge from you, wasn’t it?

…

Volo knew it wasn’t a challenge from you, but one from his own heart—to test himself, to tempt himself into deserting you again.

Even when he said he would, he never could leave.

He often watched you go, however. If he was awake when you departed, his eyes would follow you until he could see you no longer. It had been mortifying for him to realize that they would seek your figure the second you returned, too.

“You can leave if you’d like,” you had proposed plainly, assuming his fleeting glances were indicative of a wish for freedom. “I didn’t tell everybody about you. None of them are looking for you.”

He hadn’t been able to ask why.

Skeptical of your claim, Volo hadn’t understood why you had spared him from their judgment, until he saw the harrowing question on your face.

“Why would I want you banished like I had been?”

You ripped a handful of thorns out of his heart that day.

Despite that, sometimes he thought that eventually you would have enough of him, you would be the one to leave, and you wouldn’t come back. He never said it aloud, but he was grateful you were here. When you had disappeared for the first time, he had panicked, even with your note of courtesy—courtesy his behavior hadn’t merited—describing where you were traveling. He couldn’t help it. Volo feared losing you again. Even if he never told you, he looked forward to your return; he felt his heart leap against his ribs when he spotted your straw hat in the broad grassland below, when he heard your sandals scuff the cave floor with that familiar shuffle.

He had grown too used to your presence.

Or was it that he was giving in, reminded by how things had once been between you two?

He liked to think you cared, for why else would you still visit the caves, even after you had been toiling away without him? You didn’t need him, but he didn’t want to believe it was only haughty optimism inspiring such a vain question.

Then why had you bothered to take him in after discovering him, sprawled out in the mirelands, unconscious in a pool of mud, and on the precipice of crumbling to nothing? You hadn’t even informed the villagers or the clans about his foiled plot, grandiose in its failure, and about the danger that he could pose.

Because of you, he was free to wander. He never went far though, only down to the beach or to the grove ideal for his Pokémon’s sunlit naps, but he had one less worry because of you.  

Perhaps you felt you had a favor to repay, when he had done the same for you. You just didn’t want any debts to him.

Of course, then, it had to be when he was at his lowest that you found him for the first time, when he had always been the one to find you.

Of course, out of all people, you had to be the one who found him, too.

Arceus was a cruel god.

…Then why did its Chosen save him?

No. Volo knew it was wrong to think of you that way. Why did you save him?

It was shame that kept him from asking anything of you, rather than the abyssal rage that had for too long seeped into every fracture in his heart.

Volo didn’t know when he’d let that brand of his anger die out. Maybe it was the moment you had found him again. Maybe it was when you’d brushed the tangles from his hair, and he had let you, because it made him feel like this was how things should have been. Maybe it was with each barb you removed, a thread of his anger went, too.

In place of the fury that had devastated his heart, shame mourned every one of his mistakes instead, and he couldn’t bear to expel it, not when he really should regret how he’d treated you.

He was tired of it, too. He was tired of trying to convince himself that he hated you. He was tired of being alone, but he couldn’t find it in himself to admit that to you. His Pokémon enjoyed your company along with your companions’, and for that, he was glad, but even when they tried to urge him into accepting the happiness he could find with you, he couldn’t.

Why did he deserve your forgiveness?

Volo watched you sweep the dust from the cave, a laugh bubbling from you when your Hippowdon snorted in her sleep and sent the debris straight back inside.

His throat clenched.

He didn’t deserve it.

Whether you’d misconstrued his shame for the spite he’d harbored for you upon the Temple of Sinnoh or not, you revealed nothing to him. If not for the way you were more subdued, your words more measured than he’d remembered, he would’ve thought you were acting as if nothing was wrong.

Volo wasn’t sure he preferred it that way.

He knew, however, that things were indeed wrong, and it was up to him to mend, rather than destroy.

Though even as he knew so, another three days had passed before he gathered the courage necessary to broach the subject.

Like most other nights, as Togekiss slept in her nest beside him, Volo observed you dabbling in arranging flowers or inking notes into your journal before heading off to rest in a lower cavern. Tonight, under the moonlight, you were preening an assortment of pink wildflowers, white Oran blossoms, and yellow King’s Leaves in a stout clay pot when he finally spoke up.

“Why are you doing this?”

From the opposite side of the small cave, he thought he saw you flinch. Strange, that it was no insult he had hurled at you so far that elicited such a reaction from you.

“You must have other tasks to see to than to waste your time on me.”

You were plucking at the golden leaves now, adjusting them this way and that, but still, you were silent.

“So why… why are you still doing this?”

Volo wasn’t sure why he was talking so much.

Maybe it was that he really was healing, and his curiosity had returned, or that he didn’t want you to think he still hated you.

Your hands stopped moving. The stalks of the flowers sagged.

He saw you take a breath, then turn to him.

And for the first time since you had brought him here, your eyes met, and he couldn’t look away.

“I may have been a core member of the Galaxy Team, but I have my own life to live. And even if I lived how the villagers wanted me to, it would never be enough for them, would it?”

The implication of your question, one that neither of you had any predilection for answering, caused Volo to tense.

He didn’t miss the way that you stiffened as well.

“And,” you continued, your eyes never once leaving his, “if I decide that I want you in my life, I think that’s up to me, and up to you, but no one else.”

Why would you?

Volo couldn’t move.

He could only watch as you stood, the pearly moonlight dappling your figure with an array of stars, gleaming with every step you took toward him.

Before he could protest at how close you were, you had seated yourself before him, and Volo was humiliated by the pain in your eyes.

That was his fault.

He was shaking. He had thought he could do this. He still could, couldn’t he? He had to.

And then, before he had a chance to run, the words escaped him.

“How can you forgive me?”

A thousand ways Volo had envisioned asking you what had weighed on his conscience ever since you’d found him, and a thousand ways he’d imagined your response. He would ask you, shouting or crying or pleading, but even in his better dreams, you would only nod. You would nod, tell him you understood, and then you would leave before you could say you’d always truly meant that you’d forgiven him. He didn’t like to think of the nightmares, when you boasted that he’d fallen for your lie, and then you would echo his own words back to him: “I wish to see you suffer and agonize as I do.”

But here you were, smiling at him.

“I remember you once said something to me.”

How many sleepless nights did you have?

He didn’t know what he had told you that had kept you so at peace in front of him, but he couldn’t believe the words of a traitor had provided you the wisdom to forgive him.

Folding your hands across your lap, you stared off toward where the moonlight filtered in. He may have thought you were calm, but inside, you were struggling to continue.

I had many. Too many, without you.

“It was only a few months after I had met you,” you started quietly, “and I had helped return the Wall Fragment to Warden Calaba.”

Still, he wasn’t sure where you were going with this.

“You spoke of her faults that people often mentioned, that she was too stubborn, too old-fashioned.”

The cave was silent, save for the distant melodies of the retreating waves. Volo waited for them to return, heard their soaring notes as they rolled in, and his anticipation for what you would say next swelled along with them.

“But you didn’t think she really hated the Diamond Clan or the Galaxy Team—rather, you thought she simply loved the Pearl Clan very, very much.”

You turned back to him, and Volo saw only grief in your eyes.

He looked away.

“I think that you’re the same, in a way. You simply love what’s important to you very, very much.”

His breath caught in his throat.

“You love history, the ruins, myths, and the questions no one else could answer but you. You love your Pokémon. I know you love many things in Hisui. And when you love something, I think it’s natural you want to protect it.”

Volo felt your fingers on his. He was still looking away.

Nothing you were saying was like that of his dreams or his nightmares. He had a feeling you had been preparing for this very moment longer than he had.

“When I thought of that, I couldn’t hate you.”

His heart was quivering, just as his hand was in yours. Your palm was warm. He realized how cold he was then. You were warm. Your words were everything he needed to hear.

You were everything he needed.

“I couldn’t stay angry with you.”

Volo couldn’t hold on anymore. Was he hanging on, about to tumble into the chasm of his own folly, or was he waiting to finally be pulled to safety by his hope, by your salvation?

The lull of your comfort was too inviting to disregard. You were breathing into him that last breath he needed—

“I could forgive you, Volo, because I knew how much you could love, and how much you still love.”

—and then he let you pull him in.

He cried as you took him in your arms, embraced him like he meant the world to you, and pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

The guilt, the sorrow, the days he thought of ending it all—

he didn’t know if he could forget them, but with you, he wanted to try.

“I’m sorry.”

His apology was unending, perhaps worthless with how he repeated it as if you hadn’t heard him.

But you had. He knew you had, but he couldn’t stop the doubt.

“I know,” you said faintly.

“I didn’t hate you. I didn’t. I’m sorry. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“I know. I forgive you.”

“I’m sorry.”

Volo wasn’t sure he could stop.

Were hours passing as you held him, let his tears wet your clothes, and listened without judgment?

You were too good for him.

He didn’t know when he’d finally fallen silent, but he felt you tilt his head back, and then your lips were smoothing the wrinkle between his brows.

They touched his cheeks, his nose. His lashes fluttered over his eyes. His heart was reaching for yours, and he couldn’t fight it. He didn’t want to fight it anymore.

I love you.

You kissed his forehead, brought your warm fingers to his cheeks. Your hands smelled of flowers.

He shuddered.

“I love you, Volo,” you whispered against his lips.

And then, he knew nothing else but you.

He said your name like a word of immaculate praise, and you replied with his, a faithful murmur on the sea breeze.

I love you.

He felt your breath hitch—were you as nervous as he was?

Volo knew he was. He couldn’t go back anymore. You were his fate from the day he’d met you, and as if he had been searching his whole life for this moment, he kissed you.

A torrent of emotions crashed over him when his lips met yours completely; affection and pleasure and bliss coursed through him in wonderful harmony. It had been so long since Volo had last succumbed to such feelings that he was nearly overwhelmed. And they were because of you. You, you, you. Your lips were soft, perfect. How many times had he dreamed of kissing them? He didn’t know. His mind was fuzzy with desire, and he didn’t think he could let you go. Not when an aching heat fanned at his heart, and a pleasing tension knotted inside him, craving your touch.

I love you.

He didn’t know when his hands had found your waist, but when you gasped as he drew you closer, he was almost viscerally aware of how gravely he wanted you, needed you.

You were the same, however. Grasping fingers tugged at his hair, at his clothes. As if you couldn’t contain yourself any longer, you were pushing against him, your hips sinking into his, and when his tongue traced your lips, you moaned so splendidly.

It sent a wash of giddy ecstasy careening over him, and Volo knew he had already been hopelessly swept away by you.

Roaming across his jaw, his arms, his chest, your touch was a welcome caress, defying his qualms for as long as he held you. Subconsciously, Volo mirrored you, desperate to feel all of you against him. He tucked a leg around your waist, angled himself away for an inconvenient moment of respite, but then he dove in again, nipping at your lips between kisses, sweeping a hand over your chest—

and then he felt it.

He stopped. He drew back from you to stare at your flushed face, your brilliant eyes, as if to tell himself that yes, it was you.

Beneath his fingertips, your frantic pulse thrummed just like the intense pounding of his own heart.

Your heart. You were alive. You were here with him now.

You had shown it all to him, allowed your heart to sit in his hands, and he was blessed to feel its beat rippling with a sweet warmth through him.

And as your heart sang only for him, his heart would only ever sing for you, the one who would never let him go.

You were smiling at him, and this time, that smile reached your eyes.

He would never let you go again.

Volo would never let you go again, so that he could show you how much he still loved, without a doubt in his heart at all.

He leaned in. His lips found yours as he smiled, and finally, he could honestly tell you,

“I love you.”

[end.]

❥

[extra]

Sometime much later…

“You know, Volo, I don’t know if it was lucky or not that I found you when I did.”

“And why is that?”

“Because while it was good to at least find you, if I found you any earlier, I might have punched you.”

“…What?”

“I was really mad at you, you know.”

“…I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not angry with you now, and if I was, I’d still be more inclined to do this.”

You laughed, pulled him close, and kissed him.

Grinning, Volo deepened the kiss. He was sure he could live with this instead.

[dr3amofagame]

on c!dream and the revolution

(aka: holy shit this is going to be a bit of a mess but hopefully something in here is coherent) 

c!Dream and the L’manburg Revolution has weeeeeell kind of been talked to death, but that’s not for no reason. The L’manburg Revolution has a huge impact on the entire story for the rest of the timeline and a huge impact on c!Dream in particular--he himself references the final deal for the discs quite a few times just on his own in later parts of the timeline, not to mention the entirety of inconsolable differences being a callback to the revolution (and to vassal, but everything’s a callback to vassal when you have dream, tommy, and wilbur in a room.) The Revolution is what forms the foundation of the L’manburg mythos which then forms the foundation of so many conflicts in the server--especially involving c!Dream, as L’manburg’s villain-tyrant-monster-lizard-snake-thing in particular. 

Even so, a lot of people tend to have a lot of different opinions on c!Dream’s motivations during the Revolution. This post is meant to be an exploration of my thoughts on the matter (forgive me for the lack of actual timestamped sources I’m lazy) especially regarding three main points:

1. c!Dream had specific in-universe reasons for going against L’manburg that are referenced before the revolution and after it 

 2. c!Dream went to war with L’manburg because he largely thought that it was inevitable 

 3. c!Dream went into the war with L’manburg knowing that he would concede to c!Wilbur in the end and give them what they wanted

To start with point 1), I’ve seen it pretty commonly asserted that c!Dream didn’t actually have a particular reason to fight in the Revolution in-universe and his actions can be explained away by the ccs/actors knowing that an actual war would be the best For Content. And while I agree that the “for content” angle is an important angle to consider when we speak about this conflict, especially considering the roleplay as it would come to exist wasn’t really as established of a construct yet, to say that c!Dream had no in-universe motivations at all is...a gross oversimplification, especially when these people are often the same ones that I see taking L’manburg’s stated motivations of Peace and Freedom and Liberation at face value. 

I think there's a lot of debate on a lot of different factors surrounding the revolution, but I also think it's important to consider that like, while obviously the rp wasn't quite as developed at that point in time, that doesn't mean that c!Dream was played as a character without any motivation at all. For example, in that first conversation between c!Dream and c!Wilbur [x], I think it's important to note that c!Dream 1. expresses doubt abt c!Wilbur's whole schtick with L’manburg and DOES seem genuinely peeved by c!Wilbur's arbitrary rule setting and whole "we're doing this against tyranny" deal, even though he does make a pretty deliberate point of FOLLOWING the rules that wilbur sets (until he breaks one (1) leaf block as an expression of rebellion, which is in itself very interesting) and 2. very deliberately calls out c!Wilbur's whole L’manburg deal as something he's unsure of as being something that the people in L’manburg actually want and agree with--see his asking c!Tommy and c!Tubbo if they actually want to “totally break off from the SMP and are okay with L’manburg and never leaving L’manburg again”, as c!Wilbur had just stated (paraphrased, but anyway), and then obviously taking note of both c!Tommy and c!Tubbo's doubt afterwards.

From the very beginning of L’manburg's conception, I think it's fair to say that c!Dream has Visible Doubts about c!Wilbur's whole schtick that served as a foundation of its creation. Were those ideological differences the sole driving force behind his decision to go to war? No, absolutely not. c!Dream was not fighting the revolution just in an effort to idk, ~save~ the L’manburgians or anything I’m not trying to say that. but c!Dream does, from the very beginning, take issue with the specific division that c!Wilbur created. He prods at c!Wilbur's claims about a separate server with separate rules. He specifically asks if c!Tommy and c!Tubbo are okay with "L’manburg and only L’manburg" as c!Wilbur seemed to be implying was all they needed. He STARTS the conversation considerably more lighthearted than at its end--the first thing he says about L’manburg is a fucking dick joke, for god's sake. There's even something you can say about c!Wilbur making rules and then SHOWING dream that the rules are arbitrary, because before dream makes a deliberate Point of breaking the leaf block to symbolize his irritation with L’manburg's rule setting and the whole idea of L’manburg in the first place, c!Wilbur states that they really respect the foliage of the place and want not a single block out of place while breaking leaves himself! 

And of course, we all know about the table speech. There are arguments to be made about server ownership and entitlement that have been discussed before and could be touched on here, but once again--c!Dream's issue was about the division created. Not the usage of the table (or, on the server, the land) but the claiming of it as someplace “Separate.” When he expresses that everyone can use the table, he's not against the idea of individual or community ownership in itself, as can be clearly seen by the amount of properties on the server that belonged to one or more people. However, what he WAS against was the idea of people claiming a piece of land as their as in, their server, which meant that they could set whatever rules they wanted on it no matter the detriment to other people on the server. which is exactly what was done in L’manburg. It wasn't about the ownership, it was about claiming a part of a house As Their Own House because by stating that L’manburg was a "separate" server, they could also come up with whatever rules they wanted. such as pvp-is-off-so-take-off-your-armor, and you're-not-in-the-whitelist, etc. 

And like, again. I think people can have different perspectives and opinions on the table speech and how right he was and whatever, but like the table speech was NOT long after the revolution, and dream made it plenty clear that people could use the land at will before L’manburg’s creation. Hell, AFTER the revolution people could still y’know, kinda use the land at will, when he could've (according to c!Wilbur's original plans and words) restricted L’manburgians from leaving L’manburg. And again this is explicit--c!Dream says it himself to c!Skeppy in the table speech, and we see how everyone was using the land however they wanted at this point in time as well. 

And i think like, later on, when the characters are more established, every time c!Dream talks abt L’manburg makes it pretty clear that he was fighting abt it for more reasons than just "well he felt like fighting shit." He clearly dislikes L’manburg and disagreed with the division it created fundamentally. Obviously, the way you interpret all of this can be pretty different ,, but I think it's always been pretty clear that c!Dream does like. Disagree with L’manburg from the very beginning at the very least, and that goes into his decision to eventually go to war with the place.

Still, though, I don’t think these ideological differences are the most important reasoning behind his decision to fight in the Revolution in the first place. Which brings me to point 2), which is to say...from c!Dream’s perspective, honestly, war felt pretty goddamn inevitable?

From c!Dream’s perspective, he had no reason to believe that L’manburg wasn’t gunning for war. Honestly, he has every reason to believe the opposite? The FIRST time he interacted with L’manburg it was to c!Wilbur goading c!Tommy to shout “war words” at him. They were dressed in army uniforms. The entire side of L’manburg was allegedly built on a foundation of opposing c!Dream. They clearly didn’t shy away from conflict, considering their actions the day before had been basically trying their best to scam the shit out of people on the server and ending up chased down for their efforts. The ideals of L’manburg being this idea of like, Injustice and Freedom and Liberation From Oppression does not paint the idea of them being like willing to patiently come to a compromise or engage c!Dream in good faith like, at all. When c!Dream actually comes to L’manburg to try and have a discussion, c!Wilbur makes it plenty clear that compromise isn’t going to be an option, acts like L’manburg’s legitimacy is an assured thing, uses his act of legitimacy to impose on c!Dream’s behavior (mostly by inventing all kinds of arbitrary rules for him to follow until the ‘don’t touch our foliage’ makes him lose his patience and leave). None of this suggests any willingness for L’manburg to actually make concessions or compromise. 

And that, in itself, limits c!Dream’s options. If he concedes, then he’s folding to external pressure without putting up a fight, which sets a precedent. Again, from his perspective, c!Wilbur is a total stranger! He’s this guy that he’s literally never met before that managed to turn half of c!Dream’s server--as in, friends and acquaintances and neighbors--against him in a “country” that is explicitly founded in opposition against c!Dream by someone he knows nothing about. A country that has framed itself as existing directly against what c!Dream wants, has referred to him as a tyrant, and has turned this idea of fighting against him into a moral issue--limiting their willingness to backdown or compromise in any way whatsoever. No matter whether or not c!Wilbur was actually gunning for war, c!Dream had every reason to think that that was the intention--they wrote a Declaration of Independ(a)nce, for god’s sake. Obviously this is getting meta but if they’re making relentless comparisons to Hamilton Act I which is...entirely about a war, that’s hardly a point in favor for them actually just wanting to sit down at a table with some tea to talk things out. (Not to mention how they run onto DreamSMP land to attack c!Alyssa as a unit like, right after all of this.) 

As far as c!Dream is concerned, giving L’manburg what they want at this point without putting up a fight, just rolling over and showing his belly to their every demand is...dangerous? He’s facing a group of people that include people that, again, he’s lived with for months who have suddenly decided that standing against him is some kind of moral statement, who are slandering him and calling him a tyrant. He’s being talked about like some kind of dragon to slay--of course he’s not particularly inclined to just give them what they want. The Revolution establishes DreamSMP as people you don’t want to fight. c!Dream establishes himself as someone that you should think twice about antagonizing. And we know this works because c!Wilbur does get more cautious after the Revolution--he’s not quite as willing to go against c!Dream as directly as he was when he literally showed up out of nowhere to call c!Dream a tyrant. Through the Revolution, c!Dream successfully discourages another war in the future by making it too costly for L’manburg to pursue the next time they want something out of DreamSMP (which wouldn’t necessarily be the case if he just conceded the first time around, considering as far as c!Dream is concerned, L’manburg’s initial reaction to wanting something w/ their whole “independence” schtick was to make war preparations). Instead of seeming like a pushover, which in his mind possibly could’ve emboldened c!Wilbur further, he establishes himself as someone fair (see: his insisting on listening to L’manburg’s rules even during the literal war, not entering into L’manburg’s borders to plant the TNT, something they both concede, as well as during the intimidation campaign w/ c!Sapnap) but intimidating as an opponent. 

All of that being said, though, it’s worth considering that c!Dream does, in effect, give L’manburg what they want in the end. Which is part of what I want to consider with my final point here: c!Dream always knew that he was going to give L’manburg independence. 

And this is a fact! We know this because during the preparations for the war, in Punz’s L’manburg Revolution videos, we see c!Dream stating that he will give L’manburg technical independence before the war even begins. Which i find. Fascinating. Because like obviously given c!Dream's strategic ability (final control room + just general preparation wise), obviously Dream SMP was at a great advantage. (Interestingly enough, I will NOT actually argue that PVPwise they actually outranked L’manburg by THAT much. When the war was declared, it was actually a 3v5, considering c!Eret had not yet defected and c!George had not yet joined DreamSMP's side. This was at the same general time where c!Fundy and c!Sapnap, who would later be a formidable opponent against Dream and Technoblade alike, were about evenly matched in a PVP duel! Like DreamSMP would've still likely panned out on top in terms of straight up PVP, but it would've been a much closer battle with a much higher chance of loss of life on the DreamSMP side.)

On that same note, i think it's interesting to note (if you watch Punz's pov of the revolution videos) HOW CONCERNED c!dream was the ENTIRE time for any losses on his side. Like this guy was freaking out if someone on the DreamSMP like got hit by an arrow kind of concerned. He was worried about c!Eret in the crossfire of the final control room. Honestly speaking, he probably lost more hearts from that goddamn poison pot than like the entirety of the DreamSMP side during the war. L’manburg was during a time where Tubbo and Tommy could reasonably defeat Dream in a 1v2, given certain situations, and there was that whole Dream versus Tommy, Tubbo, and Sapnap 1v3--but that's when Dream way outgeared them and he WAS worn down and DID lose.

(Compare to like much later on where Dream could like 50/50 1v3 people in full diamond with nothing but an axe and shield.)

And whether or not L’manburg actually like, could’ve outgeared or outpvped DreamSMP (which. I mean. Like, c!Tubbo had villagers--from experience, it really doesn’t take that long to get decent enchants + gear from villagers even if you’re just one person, just go to town on a bunch of trees for a couple hours), the idea of L’manburg as a threat doesn’t even matter as much as whether or not c!Dream saw them as a threat. I feel like I’ve seen a lot of opinions on this matter that boil down to “well clearly L’manburg wasn’t a threat so clearly c!Dream didn’t see them as one so clearly fighting L’manburg was just about killing people for his own ego” which...absolutely contradicts how c!Dream himself faces this conflict. I think it's fair to say that based on his words and actions, c!Dream did see them as a significant threat to his/his friends' safety in the war. He has backup plans upon backup plans, he's very anxious about the DreamSMP side’s health bars throughout the revolution, he specifically worries about them losing health and dying in the final control room like. Many times.

All of that being said, c!Dream goes into the Revolution knowing that he'll have to grant L’manburg independence, specifically because he knows they wont give up. He says this very explicitly. And like, I think it's like. again. Important to note that c!Dream could've like forced L’manburg into a corner by like idk repeatedly spawnkilling them, or sieging them, until they give into his commands or whatever right. Like it was a war. He definitely could've forced them to surrender on his terms.

HOWEVER, what we actually see is c!Dream repeatedly calling them to surrender at like every possible turn. Before the war, during it, whatever. White flags was an obvious attempt to intimidate, but at the same time you can only demand someone to surrender so many times before you're showing your hand.

And it’s like--war, when you boil it down a Lot, is basically an extended game of chicken. This is very oversimplified, but at the end of the day what matters is that you have to decide how far you're willing to go and how far the other side is willing to go and figure out if you're willing to accept the necessary losses. And it's also important to note that from c!Dream's perspective, L’manburg was never going to give up.

Whether or not that is true is once again, debatable. But from c!Dream's perspective WE CAN SEE that c!Dream thinks that c!Wilbur + co. were never going to give up. With the retroactive addition of canon lives then yeah you could probably state that c!dream thought that they were going to keep going even if it permakilled them. c!Wilbur makes the "we would rather die" speech after the final control room. Obviously retroactively applying things like canon lives gets finicky (and believe me, I DONT LIKE IT EITHER,) but if you're going to retroactively apply the final control room as killing all of L’manburg in order to essentially end the conflict in one blow instead of simply removing their gear as was the explicit goal of that ambush, then yeah, I think it's fair to apply the same statement of canon lives and their full ramifications on what c!Wilbur says here as well. c!Dream enters a war he knows that he will, by a matter of speaking, lose--because at the end of the day, he wasn't willing to go as far as L’manburg., From his point of view. he was not willing to keep the war going when lmanburg was, because L’manburg stated that they wouldn't give up (and he PREDICTED they would state that they wouldn't give up) no matter what the cost. 

So he very literally puts his life on the line (when doing so shouldn't have been necessary otherwise because like, he was winning the war) because he was willing to end the conflict at a great personal cost to himself. Why? Why would c!Dream decide to risk his life to participate in a duel that could literally nullify EVERYTHING he did so far in an instant in the war by literally granting L’manburg independence? And then, after winning the duel, why grant L’manburg independence anyway? If tommy won that duel (which he EASILY could've -- it was a 1v1 bow duel when both people were one-shot), then L’manburg would've won the war. Hell, EVEN AFTER THEY LOST THE DUEL, they stated they won the war for a long time. c!Dream could've fucking annihilated them!! They had no supplies. Why grant them "technical independence" ??

Like, what, all of this for the discs? The discs really did not matter that much at that point in time--the disc war had been over, for god’s sake-- and c!Tommy would literally blackmail him to steal ‘em back like less than a month later. And, like, there was really nothing stopping him from demanding the discs as reparations for the war anyway. What was L’manburg gonna do if he just enforced the borders and kept killing them unless they gave him shit yk? L’manburg got soundly beat in a war! c!Dream had no reason to put his own goddamn life on the line to give them A POTENTIAL SHOT AT VICTORY. 

The only reasoning that makes sense for c!Dream here is the reasoning he himself gives for basically every decision he makes in this war, from the demands to surrender to the Final Control Room to the agreeing to the duel to the granting them technical independence for the discs even after c!Tommy lost the duel. And that’s that he knew that they wouldn’t give up. Before the war began, c!Dream knew that he would have to give them independence. At the time, the justification was likely along the lines of well, he couldn’t permanently kill them because it’s MINECRAFT, so they would’ve just kept dragging the conflict out until he gave in. With the retroactive addition of canon lives, though, his hesitance reads much more along the lines of being generally unwilling to go through with killing L’manburg entirely during the war, which demanded that he make the concession of giving them what they wanted. 

And, again, this is all from c!Dream's perspective. Whether or not all of this is like, True objectively is a different matter. Would L’manburg have surrendered if he didn't give them a way out and kept pressing? Would c!Wilbur have stopped before everyone on his side lost all their canon lives? Maybe. But from c!Dream's perspective, the only way to end it was to grant them the independence they wanted (even you know, in the bastardized form that it was, not that it mattered because L’manburg ended up being treated as an entirely independent and separate entity ANYWAY but I digress).

So that's what he did.

And, of course, this paved the way for the rest of the story. The mythos of L’manburg was established. It all goes back to these decisions on both sides, in a lot of ways--the discs, c!Tommy and c!Dream and the duel on the path, c!Wilbur overseeing, heroes and villains and revolutions and tyrants. In a lot of ways, this is where things began to unravel, this is the story that would take until the (c!discduo) Finale to address and dismantle. c!Dream’s reasonings behind his decisions in the Revolution are logical, complex, and consistent with his character and motivations--and they’re also, in a lot of ways, his undoing. 

[dc-said-bi-robin-rights]

“Never has my father ever…” Steph pauses, tries to think of something her father did to her that even Rose’s dad wouldn’t do. “…left me alone with a creepy middle-aged friend.”

Rose chuckles dryly. “Does it count if he’s the creepy middle-aged friend?”

Dammit, she didn’t think of that. “…sure?”

Wordlessly, Rose raises the bottle—vodka, the second tonight, Steph notes distantly—to her lips and takes a long swig.

Steph doesn’t press.

“My turn,” Rose says, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She sits up, a strange kind of eagerness on her face. “Never has my father ever… tried to make me choose between him and one of my siblings.”

“That doesn’t count,” Steph protests immediately, as if this is a game, as if… whatever this is has rules. “I don’t have siblings.”

“What about the other Bats?”

“Not my siblings. Ew.”

“Fair enough,” Rose concedes, and up goes the bottle again for no reason at all. Steph is starting to think she doesn’t get the game. “Then how about… hold on, do versions from alternate universes count?”

Steph’s reply is immediate. “No.” Whatever this is, it’s confusing enough without bringing multiversal variants into it—not that her father is important or complex enough to have substantially different multiversal variants, but still. “Let’s stick to our universe only, please.”

Rose shrugs, discarding what she was about to say as easily as she discarded her first bottle—which Steph is going to have to look for later, now that she’s thought about it. With her luck, it probably rolled under the bed. “Fine. Then how about… never has my father ever—ooh, this is a good one—payed a bunch of complete strangers to pretend to be my long-lost maternal family as a present.”

Steph blinks, cause what. “Huh?”

“I know, right?” Bottle, again. Steph’s getting annoyed… and maybe a little worried. “Talk about mixed signals.”

“You can’t just say something like that and not expect me to want a follow-up.”

Rose just shrugs. And then she takes—what a surprise!—another swig from the bottle, just for good measure. As if she hadn’t already made it throughly clear she doesn’t care about Steph’s opinion.

It’s like she’s trying to piss Steph off.

Steph opens her mouth, a scathing, alcohol-induced retort that will probably ruin the whole night already on her lips, before she is thankfully interrupted by a figure swinging into the room through the shadowy window near the back. Rose startles, but Steph grabs her arm, stopping her from tackling the new arrival before she can reveal herself. She really should’ve warned Rose that there was another person joining them.

“Hey, Cass,” Steph calls out to the shadowy figure, a smile in her voice. Steph had told her to at least knock on the window before entering on account of Rose’s presence, but she neglects to bring it up in favor of greeting her friend. “Back early?”

—

A few quick hand signs that Rose can’t make out—she’s getting better at ASL for Joey’s sake, but she’s not even close to fluent yet—and Cassandra is sitting on the floor with them, a red plastic cup filled with something that is probably not alcoholic clutched tightly in her hands. Usually, she’d complain that non-alcoholic drinks ruined the whole point of ‘drinking games’, but the words die in her throat when Cassandra turns to her and raises a pointed eyebrow. Fine. If she feels that strongly about it, Bat Bitch can drink orange juice from a sippy cup for all Rose cares. It’s not like it matters.

—

“Never has my father ever…” Cass starts slowly, deliberately trying to imitate Steph’s inflection in order to get the words out easier, “… shot me. As… practice.”

Rose drinks. Steph hesitates.

“Shot at me?” she asks, remembering the times she tried to apprehend her father before he knew she was Spoiler—and after, now that she thinks about it. “Or shot me?”

Cass frowns. “Shot me.”

Steph racks her brain, trying to think of a time when any of the bullets connected. She doesn’t think there is one.

(Huntress had taken one of those bullets for her, hadn’t she? Damn. She doesn’t think she ever thanked her for that. She should say something next time she bumps into the Birds)

After a pause, she decides not to drink. Which means it her turn again. Joy.

“Never has my father ever…” she hesitates, but only briefly. “… kidnapped me.”

All three of them drink. It should be funny. It’s not.

“Let’s drink once for every time it’s happened,” Rose says as an afterthought, tilting the bottle in Steph’s and Cass’ direction and smirking. “I bet mine’s bigger than yours.”

Steph doubts that. “You’re on.”

Cass drinks twice. Rose drinks three times. Steph drinks four times.

Then, after a pause, five.

Then, after another pause—this time to get another cup—six.

And then seven.

And then eight.

And then nine.

(Rose looks impressed. Cass just looks concerned)

“Don’t ask.” Steph grunts and slaps her chest in an effort to hold back a burp. She isn’t sure who she’s talking to, only that she means the words. “It’s none of your business.”

They nod. After all, asking is not part of the game. They established that at some point.

She thinks.

Truth be told, everything’s kinda fuzzy at the moment. Maybe she should slow down.

(She doesn’t)

“Never has my father ever,” Rose drawls some time later, after both she and Steph are more drunk than recommended, “slept with one of his childrens’ partners.”

Steph blinks. Cass stares.

Rose huffs drunkenly. “Don’t look at me like that. He did it to Joey, not to me.”

Like that made it better.

“That doesn’t count,” Cass says, surprisingly.

Rose scowls. “Yes it does.”

Cass scowls back. “It doesn’t,” she insists.

“Says who?”

“Says we,” Steph slurs, backing her friend up. “It has to be something he did to you. You’d have an unfair advantage otherwise.”

Rose mutters something under her breath that makes Cass frown, but moves on without much fuss. “Fine. Never has my father ever… watched me sleep.”

Steph tilts her head carefully, feeling dread pool in her stomach. “What do you mean?”

“You heard me,” Rose sneers. There’s an edge to her voice, and Steph sits up when she realizes it’s barely-hidden desperation. “Don’t tell me I’m the only one.”

The back of Steph’s throat starts itching. “Just… watches you?”

Rose crosses her arms. “That’s what I said, isn’t it?”

Cass doesn’t drink. Steph doesn’t either. A shadow passes over Rose’s face.

“Don’t tell me I’m the only one,” she repeats, and yep, that’s definitely desperation in her voice. “Seriously?”

Steph’s hands are tingling. After Terra, there have always been rumors about Deathstroke, but… “Rose…”

“Seriously?” Rose asks again, laughing, and it’s the ugliest sound Steph’s ever heard. “Score one for dad, I guess.”

It’s Cass who tries to speak next. “Wh-”

Rose’s arms snaps like a whip as she suddenly throws the bottle on the ground. Instinct alone prompts Cass and Steph to throw themselves back, shocked, even as Rose stands up and grabs her jacket from the couch. A single rivulet of blood runs down her face from a shard of glass the width of Steph’s middle finger embedded into her jaw just below the cheekbone, but she barely seems to notice as she shoulders her jacket and turns towards the exit. “Forget it,” she sneers over her shoulder, and Steph only now understands why people call Rose volatile. “This was stupid anyway.”

Steph finds herself stumbling after Rose and grabbing ahold of her sleeve, even as Cass signs to let her go. “Rose, wait.”

Rose shoves her away, harder than necessary. “Get off me.”

Steph stumbles back, but catches herself on the edge of the couch. “What the hell’s your problem?”

The daughter of Deathstroke whirls around, her white hair wraithlike in the light of the moon. Her one blue eye pins Steph in place with such intensity, with such vitriol, that Steph’s breath hitches, and she finds she’s not entirely sure who the person in front of her is.

“My problem?” Her voice is raw, and something not at all like a laugh bubbles up from her throat. It’s the sound of someone who has ripped their soul bare under a misassumption; it’s the sound of a girl who tore the darkest, most well-kept secret she had from her chest only to find out that the people around her were not peers at all. It’s the kind of laugh an addict might make after finding out that their AA meetings were staffed by undercover cops, the kind of incredulous, numb chuckle that might come out of a person finding out their long-lost family were paid actors the entire time. It’s an ugly sound, and Steph decides she never wants to hear it again. “God, I was so stupid. I thought—neither of you…” she trails off with a frustrated groan, then turns, slamming the door behind her as she leaves.

The two of them are left standing there, staring at the door uncomprehendingly, for more seconds than Steph is willingly to admit.

“We need to go after her,” Steph says eventually, her voice distant even to her own ears.

“Yes,” Cass agrees.

Neither of them moves.

[mav3nrick]

An unexpected meeting

Elrond (ROP) x elf ! reader

Summary: Elrond is visiting his dear old friend Prince Durin where you are at the moment. It has been a few months since you have met the elf you cherish the most. Both of you have developed feelings for each other during all these years without saying it and you are hiding something from him. Yeah idiots in love you know.

Count : 2 407 words

A/N: English isn’t my mother tongue so there might be spelling and syntax mistakes. I am really sorry for that, hoping you can understand my writing.

Rumors brought you back to the dwarf realm. Like Elrond, it has been decades since you have been there. Of course, you have missed your dear friend Durin and unlike the other elf you haven’t missed his wedding. Well, the dwarf was mad at you for missing the birth of his children and when you met them, you fell in adoration with them making Durin really proud.

Sometimes, when duty doesn’t call for you, you take a few days into the dwarf realm to share moments with this friend of yours and his family, wishing silently that you had your own. You knew it would be sooner than you expected. In a moment of madness, you fell deeper than expected for his charms and here you are not knowing what the future can be between the two of you. It was quite unlike the elven tradition but you were the happiest so you didn’t mind. But you know that one day, you’ll be confronted with the reality of your kind. Sometimes you fear the future. He must know. Maybe and surely there were too many questions in that little elven head of yours. Maybe you should listen to Disa’s advice and make peace with your mind. You will need it when it will be the moment to welcome your little miracle.

You knew that Elrond would come to see his dwarf prince friend. You knew it would be difficult for Durin. Elrond is no exception to the elven rules. Time has no effects on him. He doesn’t see time fleeing but you do now just like the other species of Middle Earth. It was strange at first but you can deal with it with any issues.

You were at Disa’s house with her when you heard people coming for Durin and talking about an elf invoking the ancient rite of Sigin-tarâg. You immediately knew who it was so Durin did. You stayed with Disa and the children when the Prince and the Elf were doing the Rite Of Sigin-tarâg. The herald hasn’t seen you yet as he was taken to the rite’s room. No one could beat the dwarves at their best quality. The show must be funny. You were quite bitter to not see it. There were reasons you must agree on and respect.

Time passes quite slowly as you were too impatient and at the same time too anxious to meet Elrond back. The elf wouldn’t let his old friend banish him from every dwarf lands. At first, you were afraid for your dear one but you understood Durin’s choice. Elves always overestimated themselves. No one, not even you were an exception to this very rule of your kind. You must admit that you were too sure of yourself the very first time you met Durin after a decade. You were quite surprised. Hopefully for you, Disa was the one able to reason with him. You were very grateful to her and you owe her for this.

As expected by Disa, Durin concedes. When he entered his house, he was giving orders to the elf who was quite amused by the situation when he - maybe - should not. You were listening to them from the dining room, resting yourself as Disa ordered you to. She knows better than you what you are living now so you are listening carefully to all her advice. Then, the darven princess offers Elrond to stay. It wasn’t really an invitation. She didn't give him any other option so he stayed. From what you heard, you knew he was happy and relieved. But for Durin, things were the same. He was still doubtful and angry at the elf. A long road awaits for your friend. Does he deserve it ? It wouldn’t be fair if you were the only one who had to get his trust back.

When the three of them entered the room I was still sitting on their stone chair. I immediately stood up. I was quite embarrassed and I couldn’t tell why. My long and full dress was hiding my body. No one could see anything and if I hadn’t told the royal couple, they wouldn’t have guessed it. Elrond was quicker than me. He almost ran to me.

Elrond takes you into his arms. It feels right for you to be between them. A huge smile crosses his pretty face. The one you felt for. You have missed that feeling so much. You couldn’t tell him. You cannot let your heart speak for you but soon or later you will have too. You know this deep down inside you. There was no time for this.

As his eyebrows frown and too quickly for you, he pulls you aside with shock crossing his face. He didn't know where to place himself anymore. The fear of making the wrong move, saying the wrong words strikes him. Your mind went blank and you didn’t know what was happening until you remembered your own condition. He always has that power to take your attention and your mind from everything but looking only at him.

“ Oh… I am truly sorry my dear. I must have been more careful. I hope I didn't hurt you. I didn’t know anything about your condition. I know it has been quite a while we haven't met but … There are a ton of questions running to my mouth right now but I will contain them. Maybe you will not worry about me intruding into your personal life. “

You could tell he was hurt about you not telling him that you had a boyfriend or even husband from whatever wedding he wasn’t invited to. Your heart was bleeding. You didn’t know what to do anymore. You didn’t have the time to respond that he was continuing to speak. Disa and Durin must be amused by this awkward situation. You didn't dare to look at them. How could you when Elrond was right in front of you ?

“ [ Y/N ] dearest… I am really sorry for rambling all of this nonsense. No pressure will be put on your shoulders. You must have enough on them for you to bear life within yourself. I do hope you are happy with that mate of yours. “

You heard one of the two dwarves bursting out laughing and the other one hushing at them. At the same time, you can’t contain yourself but being quite amused by this situation. You assumed it was better than crying and freaking away from him. You couldn’t make this situation worse than it already was.

“ Well I must admit that idiot of a mate as you claim might not know … ? “

You weren’t sure why you said that. You were in a really weird situation. You just wanna run and hide far away from everything. Elrond looked at you with concerned eyes. He was worrying for you. It was painful for you as it might be for your dwarven friends.

“ Elrond dearest, may you let [ Y/N ] sit. “ Disa says with a warmful voice.

You thanked her silently. Your eyes spoke for you. Elrond apologizes for keeping you up when your condition requires you to rest. You weren’t a weak leaf at the edge of falling from its tree. Everyone knows it and you couldn’t retaliate. You had no strength for.

During dinner, Elrond’s eyes didn’t leave you. You prayed deep inside you that he has understood the meaning of your previous words but there could be thousands of situations coming from them. To be lucky, your friend should admit what happened between the two of you to himself. You weren’t sure he would do it, afraid to lose your friendship. What kind of friendship will that be if you are bearing his child in your womb ?

You barely ate your meal, gracefully prepared by Disa. You didn’t want to disappoint your friend. So you take your time to eat. Little by little, it was painful for you as nausea strikes again and again. It was the worst thing of your pregnancy. Thankfully for you and your angry stomac, the two men were arguing again. One blaming the other one. One not knowing where to put himself. Disa was trying to soothe the weavy atmosphere while you were watching, a hand around your belly.

At some point, Durin left the room. After speaking with Elrond about the beautiful tree that was growing under a mountain and given by the Elf himself, Disa followed her husband. The two elves of you were left alone in the dining room. Things felt the worst for you. Maybe it was only your hormones talking. You were already tired of these side effects. You must be stronger.

You feel Elrond’s eyes on you. You don’t dare to look at him back. You were holding your hands strongly, almost hurting yourselves. So the herald took your hand without a word. He brushed the back of your hand with his thumb, looking at you with a soft glance. You felt worse. You hate yourself for lying to the one you cherish the most. You hate yourself for not being able to tell him straightfully. Does friendship mean being honest to each other ? And yet, you weren’t.

“ So … May I ask you about the father of your child ? This way, I would not make any mistake the moment I met them. “

He asks gently with a soft voice as he always has with you. Words leave your mind and therefore your mouth too quickly to your taste. He is still looking at you with these soft eyes that make you want to scream your lungs out. You start to speak but are not able to. Then, his eyes became worried.

“ Please do not hate me, dear Elrond. I don’t think I will be able to assume myself in front of any of our people. The thing is … I-I… “

Panic strikes your body. You start shaking a bit too much for his taste and for yours.

“ Do not tell me it is a criminal. “

The elf responds, holding both of your hands and finally facing you.

“ May I say it is one for stealing my heart ? “

You answer at your turn, trying awkwardly to flirt with him as if you didn’t know what to do anymore. You guess you will use anything at that very moment to tell him. You were quite desperate. Elrond burst a laugh at your answer. He wasn’t ready for this, you think. Neither you was.

Finally, you put your left hand on his right cheek. You immersed your soft gaze in his, a beautiful smile flowing between your lips. Lips that he couldn’t stop himself from thinking about kissing them again and again. Those lips he dreams about. Those lips that have stolen his heart as you did with your own person.

“ I must be honest with you, Elrond dearest. I cannot keep this secret any longer. It is darkening my heart and I shall not fall. Our child will need us as I need you in my life, meleth. I am very sorry. I should have told you the very moment I knew it. Even if I was thousands of miles away from you. I should have. “

Your heart feels lightened. You are biting your lips as you are still afraid of Elrond’s reaction. Tears were on the edge of breaking into your pretty eyes.

“ So you finally told him ? “

A deep voice breaks the heavy silence that reigns into the room. Your eyesight moves from Elrond to Durin. None of you have moved.

“ Yes, [ Y/N ] has finally told me and I cannot be more happy than today. She gives me the greatest news a man could learn. “

Elrond speaks before you do. He understands from your face that you will not be able to. How could he blame you for this ? For any of this ? Even if he wishes he had known it way before at the very moment you knew it, he was the happiest. Light was brought to him thanks to you. A blessing was offered to him by you. He won't forget to thank the Valar for this. Not only you told him he was going to be a father but you always declared your love to him. As a result of it, tears rise into his eyes and a huge smile breaks out on his face. Happiness was shining from him.

“ [ Y/N ], my dearest, I cannot hate you for anything. I cannot ever be able to. You are the light of my darkest night. I do cherish you more than any precious stones dwarves can find. You bring me peace and happiness into my life, I shall be the one apologizing for not having been there for you when you needed. I shall repair my own mistake. Let me stay in your life, in our child’s life. “

“ How could I not let you in, idiot. You are the most precious thing that happened in my life. Well… Now not the only but still. I cannot let you go far away from me. You better take me with you or I will come on my own. “

“ I shall not let you. Not anymore. I will stay with you until the end of time and after. I will stay with you as long as the moon stays with the earth, making the sun jealous. No one will separate us, I promise you, meleth. “

“ Good ! Now you are finally making up whatever is between you two. I have to say that you better invite me when your child comes to our world. I better be there, my friends, or you will hear of me. “

Durin says mimicking a disgusting face when you know he was happy for both of you. Both of us are laughing at his manners.

“ You won’t miss it, Durin. I promise you. May you mark my words : You and your little family will be invited to the event. I will let you know when the due moment will happen so you can come to Lindon. “

Elrond answered before I could. Disa couldn’t stop smiling so Durin does. He wouldn’t admit it but everyone here could tell. The only thing I could do at the very moment it’s smiling and touching my little but showing belly before we left for Lindon. Things were getting better between the two friends after all.

[schraubd]

Schoolchildren Shouldn't Have To Live Like Jews, Part II

This weekend, Lewis & Clark Law School hosted the 2nd Annual Conference on Law vs. Antisemitism, a conference which (I don't think it's immodest of me to say) I did the lion's share of organizing.

Part of that organization was making sure, at the outset, to contact Lewis & Clark campus security to inform them of the event and have a security plan in place. This included having a security officer on site, requiring registration and check-in, alerting the Portland Police Bureau of the event and having them monitor the chatter of "certain" sites to ensure we weren't going to be a target, and other sundry efforts to address what I called our "elevated risk profile" compared to a standard law school event.

All this, to me, felt very normal and unremarkable. I'm hosting a conference on antisemitism -- of course I need to take extra steps to ensure that it is secured.

The day-of grunt work for the conference was provided by a set of Lewis & Clark law school student volunteers, most if not all of whom were not Jewish. They all did, to be clear, a fantastic job. But I think it is fair to say that for them, this sort of extra security was very much not normal. Which I recognized, and at various points during the run-up, I'd update them on the various security measures we were emplacing, trying to balance between "we're a conference on antisemitism, there's inherently heightened risk" and "but there's no reason to fear, most likely nothing bad will happen, this is all just precautionary." I was aware that my normal is not their normal.

The conference went very well, and without any problems or disruptions of any sort. As is the case, 99% of the time. The vast majority of cases where a synagogue brings in extra guards to watch over high holiday services, nothing bad happens. We just had a great event. So I felt kind of bad, forcing all these student volunteers to deal with the anxiety of all those extra security precautions. My normal shouldn't have to be their normal.

After Uvalde, I wrote a deliberately provocative post titled "Schoolchildren Shouldn't Have to Live Like Jews." The basic thrust of the post was to argue that all the various ways Jews have enhanced local security, "hardened the target", etc. etc., are not good models for how to protect schoolchildren from mass shootings. That they're normal for us -- a beleaguered, regularly threatened minority group -- should not make them normal for everyone. 

Less than a year later, in the wake of yet another school shooting, this time in Nashville, I couldn't help but return to the same thought. I mourn for the families, not just for their immediate loss, but for the extra wave of grief they will endure upon realizing just how little the American people care about them. But the fact is that when the only response to a shooting is "more guns" -- taking the firefight as inevitable and just hoping it occurs earlier in the process -- we're tacitly (or not so tacitly) conceding that "we're not going to fix it". It is taken for granted that to have your children in public schools is to run the risk of having them gunned down -- a price that too many politicians treat as one families are agreeing to pay, as opposed to being coerced into accepting (witness Tennessee Republican Rep. Tim Burchett's blithe response when asked how to "protect people like your little girl": "Well, we home school her.").

It doesn't have to be like this. Our normal shouldn't have to be their normal.

via The Debate Link https://ift.tt/nvFzpT1

[sweetlikehoneystingslikeabee]

Could i request gotham, BTAS, telltale, and Arkham riddler with an asexual s/o?

Gotham, BTAS, Telltale, Arkham Riddler with an Asexual s/o

Absolutely you can! I've actually seen some hcs around for various Riddler's being ace and I can totally see it even if it's not my personal interpretations. Kind of the nice thing about doing interpretations for comic book characters is there's so many people on this tiny screaming rock and we can apply all different perspectives. I hope you like this!

TW: NSFW (nothing particularly graphic but still talking about sex)

Gotham

If he were being honest (and honesty is most of what he would like to give to you), sex is not his top priority. He wouldn't classify himself as asexual because he's got kinky predilections- yet his life is certainly not going to be much different without it.

If you're okay with him (safely) exploring solely sexual things with other partners, then he will. If not, then he won't. That's rather the purpose of places like the Foxglove, isn't it?

Furthermore, if you were alright with him exploring with other partners and aren't sex-repulsed, he wants you to be involved (in a sense). Not sexually, he wants to add. But he thinks it's only fair you meet the people- especially if they're regular. Get a feel for the place. Even if you're not participating, he wants you involved/knowing in all aspects of his life.

That's what partners do, right? They make things work because they love each other and they keep things transparent. It isn't much of a question for him, it's the answer.

Ultimately what will happen is based around your comfort. He'd give it all up if that's what you wanted. Just holding you at night sleepily kissing your shoulders in your own little world- just the two of you.

BTAS

Explain it. You don't need to exact any personal details or anything if you don't want, just explain what asexual means for you and how you both need to proceed.

In his world and time it's not something you hear about often, but he's more than willing to learn. He's the type who, once you explained it, would go on to think of historical examples of people who were the exact same way! Isaac Newton, Nikola Tesla!

He's going to tell you in scores that what he's in love with the most is your brain, anyways. You're wonderfully attractive, yes, but your mind... How could that compare to the mere distractions of the flesh?

Is he going to still desire you in that way? Yes, but if he feels himself getting too riled up he'll go to another room and "take care of himself." Just give him a kiss when he comes back and he's going to be pleased as punch.

He's going to ramp up on the romantic dates. It's a point of pride for him that if he can't express his love in one way because you don't like it, he's going to go at it another route that you do like and appreciate. Fortunately with all his dorky charm, he does make a pretty good date.

Telltale

Oh? Is that it? When you originally told him you had something important to tell him, he'd assumed it would be information that would change your relationship in a big way.

It does not. Were you expecting a larger reaction?

The truth of the matter is, he's an older man with a reduced sex drive anyways. Any drive he does have can easily be satisfied on his own, if that's what you were worried about.

If you were worried about it, he'll tell you not to be ridiculous. He cares for you. If he didn't, he wouldn't stick around. Having or not having sex would be such a petty deal-breaker in his mind considering how few people he truly likes much less could love.

And he loves you. You should know that by now. He's not going anywhere.

Arkham

One of the first things he would ask is if you would care if he had "just sex" with other people. Knowing his reclusive state, you'd likely give a teasing scoff and ask who he was planning on asking. He concedes and says it's logical for him to just take care of himself. That's okay.

That being said, he would greatly appreciate and encourage... materials from you for his masturbatory use (yes he says it just like that). Dirty pictures of you posing in various states of undress should do the trick if you're not comfortable jerking him off or being in the room with him when he does. He's not going to judge!

He makes it rather clear that he wasn't interested in you for sex. He could get sex from anyone. But you're not anyone, are you? No, you're better than them and therefore suitable to be in his company.

If anything, expect a tad more of that quiet romantic side to come out. Similar to BTAS- If he isn't going to show you how much he really loves you in that physical sense, he's going to have to up his game. Expect him to be a bit clumsy in this because he has the social skills of a feral cat.

It might be difficult for him at first to make his physical touching towards you more tender than sexual. A lot of this does trace back to those poor social skills as he's isolated himself further from other people and "normal" interactions/dating. But he's making the effort because he needs you to be happy with him.

[seancekitsch]

Hi! I love your hughie Campbell fics so much! I was wondering if you could possibly do a part 2 to the one where reader finds out she's Homelanders sister maybe where homelander and/or soldier boy confront her about it and Hughie helps her stand up to them?

It's totally alright if not I just figured I would ask ☺️ 💜

hope this is what you were looking for!!

“We’re only here for her!”

“Yeah, Only here for her. Well let the rest of you live! For fairness, I guess.”

The voices of your father and half brother ring out from outside the window, and you grab Hughie’s hand out of comfort or desperation.

He squeezes your hand back, a silent promise.

“Give her up, and no one gets hurt,” Homelander warns, voice now much closer than it was before. You look away from the window to Hughie, to the rest of the boys. Looks of pity cross everyones features except for Butcher. Butcher looks furious, you can’t even imagine.

“We won’t do that,” Hughie reassures you, fire burning in his eyes. You’re sure he would get himself killed trying to keep you safe.

“Maybe we should,” Butcher sneers, “Send the little traitor out there for a family reunion, eh?”

“Man, what the hell is wrong with you?” MM speaks up, and Hughie puts himself between you and Butcher. He puts himself between you and everyone.

Hughie, that calls himself a coward; Hughie, that views himself as weak puts himself in front of you without even thinking twice.

If you weren’t sure before, you are now certain the warm feeling whenever Hughie is around is love, and not any kind of manifestation of powers. You reach your hand out to his, and he immediately grabs it. His palm is clammy, but you couldn’t give a shit.

Butcher’s brow softens.

“Fine, fuck it,” he concedes, “But, oi! If she makes any false moves…”

Probably an empty threat from the man that taught you how to shoot a gun in the first place, but Hughie remains steadfast in protecting you.

“If we don’t die in the next ten minutes I’m kicking your ass, Old Man,” you say, and Hughie’s grip on you softens.

“So are we doing this?” Annie asks.

Hughie nods before you even get the chance to; you’re in this together now and you know he’s not gonna leave your side.

“Fuck it.”

“Mon dieu.”

‘Lets go,’ Kimiko signs.

Hughie turns to you, and all you can do is stare up and him and nod, your mouth pressed into a tight smile.

You fling open the window, coming face to face with your father and half-brother out in the street below.

“Go fuck yourselves!” you shout, middle finger in the air, your other hand still clasped in Hughie’s.

You’ve just declared war.

[likecastle]

Ronance Femslash February - “number”

Thank you, @annieofhearts, for today’s prompt: “number”. I have to admit, I kind of don’t know where this one came from--it’s only vaguely a response to this prompt, and it’s kind of blink-and-you’ll-miss-it Ronance, but once the idea got hold of me, I couldn’t do anything else. Sorry it’s probably not quite what you were expecting, but please know I still really appreciate the prompt and had fun with this! (And you can always send in another prompt to give me a chance to redeem myself!)

I’m accepting Ronance prompts all month for Femslash February. Don’t be shy! You can find previous prompts I’ve filled here.

Putting part of this behind a cut because it got a long.

“I can’t do it,” Robin whines, sprawling hopelessly onto Steve’s couch. “I can’t go on another terrible blind date with some weirdo who insists on talking about her raw foot diet the entire night.”

“Maybe this time it’ll be different,” Steve says from the kitchen, as he sprinkles salt onto the popcorn he’s making.

Robin raises her head from the couch cushions to give him a baleful stare across the living room. “D’you remember the last one?”

Steve gives a whole-body flinch. “Nadya.”

“Nadya,” Robin agrees morosely. “And, like, sure, the sex was good, but she also stole multiple appliances from my kitchen.”

“I mean,” Steve says thoughtfully, “from what you told me, the sex was better than good.”

“I need a toaster, Steve! Bread is one of my primary food groups! And more importantly, I need to not wonder where my belongings have wandered off to after I hook up with someone. Like, what was she even doing with them? It’s not like my shitty microwave I’ve had since college was worth anything on the open market.”

“OK, OK,” Steve concedes, obviously trying to forestall a rant he’s heard plenty of times already. “So you’ve struck out a few times.”

“I know I’m not exactly a whiz with numbers, but I think it’s fair to say my recent dating history constitutes a unilateral failure by any metric. I don’t know.” She pulls one of the couch cushions over her head with a groan. “Maybe I just need to give up on the idea of meeting the perfect person and try being on my own for a while. Maybe I already had my shot at the one big love of my life and I blew it without even realizing it. Maybe it’s stupid to think there’s anybody out there who could possibly put up with me, or—”

“Hey,” Steve cuts in sternly, nudging Robin’s legs so he can sit down beside her on the couch. He lets her stretch out on top of him once he’s settled, giving her shin a reassuring pat. “You’re smart as hell and you have good taste in movies and you’re the only person I know who can always make me laugh, no matter how bad a mood I’m in. You’re gonna find someone who can see how great you are, and anyone who acts like they’re putting up with you can fuck right off, because you’re cool as shit, OK?”

“Yeah, I know,” Robin mutters.

“Look,” Steve says, “you don’t have to go on this date if you don’t want to. It’s totally fine it you want to take some time to just be by yourself. But, if you ask me—”

“Which I didn’t,” Robin points out.

“If you ask me,” Steve continues, louder this time, as if volume alone gives him the moral high ground, “you’re gonna start psyching yourself out if you don’t pick yourself up and get back out there. Like, yeah, maybe this date will suck, but if you start going into every date assuming that you’re doomed to fail, it’s gonna become a self-sufficient prophecy.”

Robin groans again, shoving at Steve with her foot hard enough that he sways onto the arm of the couch. “Ugh, I hate it when you’re right.”

“So what do you know about the girl this time?”

Robin sighs, heaving herself up so she can get at the popcorn Steve set down on the coffee table. “Not much. She works with Lois at the Reader, just moved here from somewhere back east a few months ago. Lo said she’s never really dated women—apparently she was in a relationship with this guy for, like, ever, but she’s known she wasn’t straight since high school, and now that she’s single again, she wants to, you know, test the waters.”

“You do have a weakness for emotionally unavailable bi girls,” Steve says, almost apologetically, but Robin can’t even contest it, since this is an observation she’s made herself many times before.

“The Curse of Vickie,” Robin admits with a sigh, though privately it’s not Vickie she regrets the most, but another one who got away. “Fuck it, why not? Who knows, maybe it’ll even be fun.”

“That’s the spirit!” Steve says, reaching over to steal the popcorn bowl from her.

A week later, when Robin walks into the bar and sees Nancy Wheeler, of all people, waiting anxiously in a booth, her first thought is that Steve isn’t going to believe her when she tells him how her blind date turned out. Her second thought, as Nancy spots her and breaks into a bewildered grin, is that maybe she’s finally going to break her streak.

[ihaveatheoryonthat]

Whumptober* Day 5: Hyperthermia (& bonus Hypothermia)

(*Task failed successfully. This became straight-up fluff.)

Today’s prompt tied in nicely with a point I alluded to, but didn’t really explore in my first stab at @blaiddraws Fulcrum AU-- just, it’s more focused on body heat and less fever. I think narrowing things down to that specific theme helped a lot; it doesn’t cover as much ground as the original did, but it’s finished.

---

Emmet had decided that, when their time finally rolled back around, this was precisely where they could be met: a random hole in the side of Mt. Coronet.

Maybe ‘random’ wasn’t entirely fair-- it had clearly been used as a den for some time, and boasted more furnishing than your standard mountainside hole-- but it didn’t matter. If the Hisuian tales of someone ‘neither man nor Pokemon’ inspired visitors, they would be hard pressed to find the right entryway out of the many tunnels that littered the territory.

That wasn’t the point, anyway. The point was that Emmet intended to stay sprawled here for the next few centuries, and Ingo didn’t seem compelled to alter that course; there was a low, content rumble of thunder beneath him, and Emmet took that as an all clear.

He hadn’t appreciated just how much the world could change, independent of human truths or ideals, until stepping foot into the bitter cold of Hisui. It had been a miserable slog from the Alabaster Icelands, and that was speaking as a fire type; he didn’t want to imagine what the trip might have been like without an internal pilot light to burn away the worst of it.

The less said of traversing it with a proper type vulnerability, the better. If he could pretend he was just huddling near to save his twin the sleepy discomfort of a Nimbasan winter, wonderful-- it meant he didn’t have to dwell on the earnestness of Ingo’s “You’re so warm,” like the concept had never even occurred to him. It meant he didn’t need to consider a reality where his other half had known only the freezing cold, unaware that he was supposed to have a counterbalance to protect him from it.

He let out a disgruntled huff of breath and rested his chin atop his brother’s head, ignoring the minor tilt as Ingo shot him a sideways look; the darker dragon settled back down within the moment, either unwilling or unable to raise a complaint, and, frankly, Emmet didn’t care which one it was. All that mattered right now was getting him warmed up, and there was nobody better suited to the task than Reshiram himself.

---

It wasn’t saying much, but in all his years, Ingo hadn’t realized that it was possible to be so warm.

Hisui ran cold, but that wasn’t to say it was without its more temperate locations. The Coastlands had Firespit Island, and the Mirelands were… bearable; in areas lacking snow’s ambient chill, it was possible to bask in the sun and not feel the cloying grasp of an inescapable winter.

For quite some time, he’d thought it was just him. While humans like Irida and Gaeric had an immunity to the tundra that left their peers in awe, as a whole, they didn’t seem to suffer the perpetual frostbite that Ingo did. Pokemon, too, were able to weather it with little difficulty, their type depending.

The closest he’d ever come to seeing eye to eye in this regard had been with the Garchomp Akari trained-- and even he hadn’t known what Ingo was talking about. Yes, it agreed, the cold was terrible and the fact that its kind nested in such harsh climes was ridiculous-- but it wasn’t anything that couldn’t be remedied by nestling into a den or sprawling next to a fire.

There hadn’t been any point in arguing-- never mind that Ingo spent the greater portions of the winter holed up with Sneasler and her clowder. He could concede that it was orders better than being stranded in the snow, but it wasn’t…

He didn’t know what it wasn’t. Enough? It should have been. Sneasler was under no obligation to allow him so close to her young-- not when he was a complete unknown. It wasn’t right? Who was he to make such a bold claim? For the Sneasel and their mother, it was perfect-- if he had a problem with it, that was his burden to bear.

It wasn’t ideal, he supposed-- not his, at least.

Maybe something in him had frozen, back before he’d woken up, and all of Hisui’s scant warmth combined wasn’t enough to thaw him out. He’d all but resigned himself to lifetime of it, and could admit that he was… dumbstruck to find an alternate station.

Firespit Island burned, too intense to stay put and let the outermost edges of his permafrost melt, leaving them to build right back up as soon as he stepped away. For a moment, The Other’s touch had felt just the same, but it wasn’t. Though Ingo had nothing in living memory to compare the sensation to, he knew it was familiar. Right. Ideal.

And, more to the point, it was enough. The frost had spent too long building to thaw with a single touch, but in that moment the glacier inside of him had calved, bringing to light information that had been since buried in ice.

That was his Other! Emmet--? Reshiram? Both? His twin! His other half!

In short order, the intense heat mellowed enough for Ingo to realize that it hadn’t ever been so hot as to burn-- only to warm. It was simply that he, himself, had been too cold to feel even mildly tepid and not flinch away from the perceived threat.

He wasn’t really cognizant of how and when they’d gotten to his den, but when he tuned back into reality, he was at home with his brother draped over his back, radiating more heat than was practical. Something deep in the build up of ice resonated with that observation-- it was normal, he thought. Emmet always ran warm, even when they presented as humans; the real challenge was keeping him from getting excited and subconsciously turning any given room into a sauna.

A moment later, Ingo caught up to himself and the… odd implications of that thought. Humans? He would tuck it away for later, when he had the wherewithal to do more than rumble his contentment while his twin grumbled about keeping him pinned for the next several centuries.

While he couldn’t live up to the threat in full, Emmet certainly did his best to prove the point. Once he deigned to get to his feet, there was a noticeable chill in the air. Ingo had never known this cave to be particularly drafty-- it was why he’d chosen it in the first place-- leaving him to wonder if the breeze had always been there and he just hadn’t noticed.

But his twin didn’t have time for his philosophizing, it seemed, and yanked him upright without a word; as soon as they were eye to eye, he pressed their heads together and hummed. The warmth in the form before Ingo was still there, but muted-- not because he’d grown complacent, but because he could still feel it radiating through his plating, back towards its source.

If he could acclimate-- however poorly-- to the cold, could he then reacclimate to this? He wanted to. Sinnoh above he wanted to.

“Acceptable. For now.” Emmet decided, and pulled away to poke his nose out of the den. Ingo wasn’t entirely sure what he expected to find there, considering they’d spent the daylight hours in a monochrome huddle, but didn’t stop him.

The chill was still present, but his face felt warm and flushed, at complete odds with it-- like the cold air was settling on his scales and evaporating on contact. Good riddance, he couldn’t help but think. All these years of building up snow, and he wouldn’t stand for another moment of it.

Somewhere in him, the glacier still lingered, but its days were numbered. With time, it would slowly melt into nothing.

...maybe Emmet was right.

A few centuries curled into ball of opposites sounded pretty good.

[draftmare]

I wanted to post a quick and dirty review of a pair of boots I ordered earlier this year. These boots have kind of "gone viral" in the plus sized equestrian FB community because they can be fully customized and shipped for around $300. Some of you may already know who I am talking about. I poured over reviews of them because money has been tight this year, but my medical struggles have caused me to have swelling issues in my lower extremities and my custom boots I got at the beginning of the year no longer zip up. I didn't really want to send them out to be butchered because at the time I was still holding out hope that medication changes would make the swelling go away. (spoiler alert, it has not, and I am now back at square one with deciding if I butcher my custom boots or get something else to school and show in for now).

I ordered the boots end of August and had them in my hands a mind boggling fast 2.5 weeks later.

I went with a lace up because with my swelling my calves fluctuate up to an inch in a day, so I wanted the adjustability.

I immediately noticed that the leather is very soft, which made me nervous, but I figured it couldn’t be any worse than the “sock leather” of the Deniro boots I sold a while back that I had gotten on a killer sale but after a while just had to concede were too tall for me even with a heel lift.

Unfortunately they just aren’t holding up.

Since I’ve taken these pictures both laces have broken, which thankfully were easily to replace, but now one of the loops to hold the tongue in place has also broken which means the tongue slides way to one side, exposing my leg as I ride.

The plus side is they are insanely comfortable. Like, I think I could walk all day around around a horse show in these. The sole seems to be high quality, the zipper is high quality, and the stitching is high quality.

And I’m sure you’re thinking, well, what did you expect for $300 for a fully custom boot, which is totally fair considering most off the rack boots now start at around $400. I was hoping, based on the reviews, that this was a hidden gem of a shop, and maybe they are. Maybe I just ordered the wrong type of leather and the wrong style. I don’t think I’m particularly hard on my boots, though they do see A LOT of use with my 4-5 day a week riding schedule. I was even half thinking about ordering a smooth leather lace up without the buckles across the top to see if they faired better, but I think I might just get some Ariat boots instead.

Anyway, that’s my experience. I can’t say I wouldn’t recommend them, but I would probably recommend them with some caveats of “maybe just for light riding,” or “maybe don’t do the embossed leather, it wears through weird.”