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rcguish · 1 month ago

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a collection of snippets from some of the discord happenings ( silver and grusha threads <3 ) : first date ; day one, into the morning.

pretty cute is something he’d only heard blue say to him, years ago. that was different, this is different. instinctively, free hand rises to touch the thickest part of the scar displaced off of nose bridge, and he feels somewhat prepared to speak in rebuttal. but silver sees the pure sincerity in the depths of grusha’s eyes, like he spoke from his heart rather than in deception, and it felt real. like he couldn’t dare to argue, like it was anything other than fact to them. blue’s words ring once again in his mind. maybe even thinking of kissing them?

companion moves back, and he almost makes a noise akin to a whine — almost — before their gazes meet and heart skips its beat again. without a thought, eyes flit from eyes to lips, and back up again. there’s a beat of hesitation, movement before a pause that has silver holding his breath — would he? and when a hand clad in a mitten rests on the side of his face, silver hums again in a low, deeper note that really did sound like the slightest whine. maybe touch was quickly filling in some distant and forgotten about part of him, maybe some part of him he had to kill to survive. with grusha’s eyes closed and them unable to notice at that moment, silver lets his gaze fall to their scarf and hidden away lips once more.

he sees grusha work himself through something that he can’t see. notes the inhale / exhale, a conscious effort in releasing the tension that gripped their frame ; and just that alone brings a soft smile back to the ends of silver’s lips. i’m proud of you. self soothing was never an easy feat, it was a hundred year long war that took place in the span of minutes. maybe hours, maybe days. they did it in seconds, no matter how forced. it was a start. [ ... ... ] “i —“ no, that wasn’t right. the arms that had released grusha, now holding to the crease of their arm that was cradling his face, clench and unclench. from laying gentle, to fists above cloth, to a quiet uncertainty in movement. “…no, you.” the words that fall almost lamely from his mouth are enough for a quieted huff of air evolve into a soft laugh.

though chill had set in to his extremities, and conscious thought had started self-allocation towards subtly steadying his breathing, silver doesn't spend more than a second on the idea as it came to him. gently releases his grasp and reaches to the top of his jacket collar. pulls down the zipper, sliding off external warmth before folding it into a neat blanket and laying it on top of the scarf on grusha's leg. thankfully, successful planning ahead with knowing they'd be outside longer, had led to him layering two long sleeved shirts underneath. or else he'd be left with just the normal one.

his motion stills as silver’s caught up in his amusement, though — a slight raise of his eyebrows and a firmer sort of smile settling on lips. “gold’s dubbed my joints as ‘rice krispies’, if that makes you feel any better. i can only imagine what your groan sounded like ; mine was a prelude to him getting thrown into the nearby river.”

"though, i'd say being on a high-altitude and ridiculously cold mountain is hardly anything in comparison to being frozen over." slides layer off and holds it out to start folding -- frozen over? he really just said that? silver slows to a very quick stop, mid-fold, before he turns his face slowly to meet with theirs. the amusement fades to the glint of a grimace, hesitant to see / hear what they'd possibly react like to that simple fact that had been so casually thrown out. ( was he that exhausted? ) and just like that, suddenly it was hard to even try to recall semblance of normalcy in a social conversation -- but damn, did silver want so badly to keep holding on to that lightheartedness they shared all night since their first comfort. even if it did scramble his inner script somewhat. "i, uh -- yeah." awkwardly shuffles himself over to the couch in front of the larvesta, right in a fit of avoidance of one of his worst topics. "glaseado watcher's orders prove to be just right once again -- these little guys are also amazing."

grusha brakes in front of him and silver’s eyes snap open in a sudden defense in his awareness to another presence. they hadn’t snuck up on him, but it felt like it — and did his heart pound against his ribcage like it was desperate to escape, desperate to run away from his childhood and the memories that haunted him. ( escape what? escape where? ) no, no, not like this — there’s a coldness to the corner of his eye, that only after bringing a gloved hand to swipe at it does it pull away and he’d realize there was wetness on the tip of his finger now. not like this. not like this. how could he break so quickly? how could the simple resurfacing of that render him so wrecked to the point of almost / practically welling up? silver had lived those days over and over again since they happened, had it plague his mind like a weighted reminder to watch his fucking back, always. [ ... ... ] there’s a distant and subconscious part of silver that brings his hand to his belt, retrieving familiar pokeball of weavile so that he could materialize beside him and crawl right into silver’s lap — as he barely registered both presences. a stretch of quiet, save for the sounds of pokemon finishing their meals. he forces himself to breathe, those exercises he had once found and come to put into ( albeit, poor ) practice as soon as blue fur and red feathers grounded him back, slowly, into this home. a safe place, away from the torment of the past. he tries for a subtle wipe of the corners of his eyes when the burning dissipates, even if no tears had managed to spill over — but he knows damn well such a reaction wouldn’t have gone unnoticed. and so he rests his head back, exhausted, against the headrest of the couch when heartbeat starts to slow. weavile rumbled like a purr in his lap, a welcome vibration against his legs that bring platinum gaze back to multicolored. “…it’s… a long story.” quiets once more, letting hands absently run fingers over weavile’s fur. “i think it’d be better to tell you — another time.”

silver looks at grusha like he was the one thing tethering him to that earth in that moment -- and he was. "i was supposed to die, there… i should've died. so many times i was captive, i should've died, but i didn't -- and now that i'm here, living into adulthood…" his voice cracks, thick with sadness and fatigue. he was tired. "i feel like i'm living on borrowed time. i should've…" opens up his fist and takes firm hold of their hand properly. he doesn't have the strength to finish that sentence, and head turns / gaze drops to lose itself in weavile's fur. manages to breathe out a shaky whisper, "i'm sorry." [ ... ... ] and like he had read silver’s mind, he’s being pulled into the tender warmness of contact. a side hug. it felt reminiscent of the time silver had leaned over and done similar for grusha during his moment of vulnerability, and the faintest shadow of a smile plays at the ends of his lips. and those words only solidify something in his heart. home… a sanctuary away from what he’s survived. home could be a person. and maybe home was becoming grusha.

grusha equates him to light and silver feels like he couldn't breathe, somewhere in between wanting to speak to keep up rapport and wanting to turn around and finally kiss him. he tries to steady himself and his fluttering heart, instead, and prompts maybe that final push he needed. "i want to do this more. this -- dating you. i…" has to break a light chuckle at that, something stronger than just a huff of air. "i wanna keep dating you. i don't wanna let go, not if i can help it."

a slow yawn ends in the forming of a thought, " 'guess you could call me your boyfriend, then." and this time, not a single thought sets off any alarms or self-criticizing rabbit holes. this time, all that fills his mind is relief. the walls were coming down, and the weights on his shoulders felt noticeably lighter. like he had shed another barrier that kept him from fully interacting with the world. a small smile settles this time, and doesn't fade ; relaxation despite the butterfree running amok in his ribcage and the familiar ache settling in his head. [ ... ... ] though his timbre is deeper and edged with sleepiness, with words perhaps the slightest bit harder to fully enunciate, it's a thought he doesn't dare keep in anymore. "really... would like t' kiss you right now."

"i've never kissed anyone before, either." it's an unspoken thing but he wants to assure them, and himself, anyway. "so if we bump teeth, i'm sorry." but it's at that where silver breaks, ducking his head with a giddy / nervous laugh. ( it was too much to look grusha in the eye at that moment, with the intent of action right there! ) huffs out air in a lighter chuckle, bringing legs forward so that he sat properly against them, facing them rather than side by side. moment of time passes where he catches his favorite eyes in the world and holds that gaze, and silver's so sure the fondness and adoration lights his normally-dark eyes brighter than even the adrenaline of battle. ( windows to the soul, they truly were. ) "i'm stalling, huh?" he holds gaze, still, even when fingers begin ministrations of removing his gloves once again ; and when leather is set to the side, shaky hands slowly rise and hover just around grusha's cheeks. " i'm -- i'm nervous, too," voice cracks into a whisper but never once does silver's smile falter as he finally rests his hands so gently on their skin. and the intimacy from the moment alone, from holding his face with no barries in between, has trainer breathing out and closing the gap between their lips.

he leans forward and steals another chaste kiss from grusha’s cheek, right before moving to stand — ( hates how cold his fingers and cheeks feel without them touching him) and stretch with arms over his head. his head pounds for a second, but sleepiness dulls the pain without expression. but — the cacophony of joints cracking and popping from the time he’d been sitting and they all set into place is something he outright laughs over. “what was that about twenty four going on to forty?”

he moves around the chair to grasp the handles, beginning to push grusha forward and it's at that moment where it really, really solidifies for him just how much this gesture meant. for them to trust him, or maybe it wasn't about trust -- grusha had been warring inside of himself for a long time, that much silver had recognized from personal experience. there was something in their head that trainer couldn't quite understand fully, a meaning to their previous words that he was sure he'd spend more time ruminating on ; silver told himself, in due time, he would understand his puzzle. he just had to keep trying. [ ... ... ] grusha then points, and silver snaps his attention away to follow the direction to the vulpix sleeping so peacefully together. that's where he breaks and audibly gasps, a shaky and semi-muted thing as to not disturb them ( and the headache threatening to sour his excitement ).

he almost, almost begins to sit and lay down when he realizes that his pokeballs were still attached to his very-real and still-worn jeans. there's a moment where he contemplates several things at once : toss the jeans entirely and deal with the apologies he'll have to doll out to his pokemon as a result, or simply place them all on top of the thrown ( silver wanted to laugh at that ) clothes on the wheelchair and deal with the discomfort of ... sleeping in jeans.

grusha makes a noise also, shifting around that almost had silver daring to try opening his eyes again to take them all in, but then he stops. probably settling back down, or just getting comfortable again ; silver turns off of his back and to the side facing them, sleepily and blindly reaching out / feeling around for their arm or shoulder or anything. meets with something his brain barely registers as a distinct part of their body, but it's warm, so it's them -- and lets his brain focus on the sensation of rubbing small circles into the shoulder (?) of his ...

the pain's still very much present, but it's eased significantly now, with half-lidded eyes ; he's grateful for this moment to be as untouched as possible. grusha's face this close, sleep-addled and lightly imprinted from the pillow case set his heart beating quicker, and quicker, like he'd just gotten up and started running about. perhaps even more than he usually did. their voice, practically cracking with the first use, coaxes a quiet coo from silver as the smile takes its place on his lips. it lessens some after seconds of basking, but doesn't fade as his hand snakes around their shoulder and into their hair. "mornin', you..."

few hours... silver's eyebrows furrow somewhat, a quick calculation in his head had put their average amount of hours somewhere between seven and six... he's sure he's slept the entire time, too, if the heaviness in his bones is anything to go by. there's a way that grusha moves, where he starts suspecting something more ; but he doesn't dare bring the question up, not yet. his hand releases their hair in their turn, instead now resting over their cheek and thumb resuming a back and forth motion under eyes. "...'m sorry. did i move too much?"

there are beats of time, however long they may be doesn’t matter in the slightest to silver — where grusha is quiet. but their hand rests over his and all he focuses on is the feeling of their skin on his, all around something so used to only feeling glove lining. [ ... ... ] he almost, almost asks a question — amazingly enough, his mouth thinks better of it, and decides to stay quiet on the matter. “if you’re sure… but the pill-cutter won’t be needed, i think i’ll gladly take that dose.” he coughs at that, though, amusement lacing itself into his voice yet expression remained neutral in a practiced sort of way. “well, you see, they probably wouldn’t if i took them every time. i have the wondrous method of toughing it out, as they say.” there’s a humorous lilt to his voice, but it’s dry and almost erring on the side of self depreciating. “i’d just go to bed or keep trying to go about my day. but, i don’t really… feel like ‘just dealing with it’ right now, so — medicine sounds good.”

right hand clenches into a momentary fist in a contained physical reaction to thoughts so damn desperate to jump into a self-fulfilling rabbit hole. grusha's puff is enough to snap silver out of it, though, skin on skin contact a consistent reminder of what was right in front of him. what was real versus what his mind wanted him to believe. his hand loosens itself to relax, and a nerve catches fire under that released tension ; there's a slight wince that lands in a twitch of the eyebrow / wince in the crease of his eye. "i don't particularly feel like moving right now, myself, so... fine by me." if he lay here with grusha, nothing hurt ; it's the movement that got him. silver was not going to complain at the extra time to bask in the contact of his home. [ ... ... ] but that -- that's enough for eyes to fully open past a lazy / concerned half-lid, take in every aspect of their face while they bare their chest wide open for him. there are logistics here that silver puts thinking about on the back burner, atleast in this present moment. he glances down for a second at most to where their leg lay propped, though it's fleeting and he's magnetized back up to him. "i'm guessing..." speaks carefully, "that isn't really a recommended thing to do?" grusha's choice / correction of words is noted. the further concept of why? is pondered over while questions borne out of desire to help take the forefront of silver's mind. why could be a lot of reasons, though he's inclined to suspect some issues with self-perception, perhaps how silver might perceive him, it could be... a lot of things. it could be none of them at all.

there is hesitation, uncertainty in all of grusha’s movements and lack thereof that has silver’s eyebrows furrowing slightly downwards in anticipation. he’s grateful for their hand betraying everything they dared not say, a glimpse into their likely racing mind, and when jerky movements take over those fingers he leans forward to press a kiss against the heel of his palm. i've got you. so silver patiently waits and listens, following every gesture and movement, putting things together in his mind and letting pieces fall into place on their own. [ ... ... ] they had both shown each other, in what feels like so little time, almost the rawest parts of themselves ; and to that, silver knew deeply how important, special, this moment's become. how special he felt to be allowed to see grusha like this, to hear him, feel him. that overwhelming sense of gratitude and other emotions has silver scooting his body infinitesimally closer (despite that bone-deep ache of protest), hand reaching up to slide fingers through somewhat messed hair (adorably so) and come to rest against cheek once more. “…thank you. for — telling me about this. i know it’s not easy.” how special it felt to know him. he pauses for a moment, ruminating on all that grusha had divulged him. planning out what to say, slight anxiety and pressure on making sure he says the right thing. it’d be his worst luck to slip up just once, say / insinuate something, break all that trust that had been built —

here, silver tries to train his cognitions to override that negative feedback-loop -- that with enough time, he'd have a fully finished 'flow chart' for grusha, as well -- just in the way alone how silver watches him so keenly, and all that he does, so fondly. he'd meant it when he said he was here to stay, no matter how long. no matter if duty had called him elsewhere, no matter if the day came where pasts might reel ugly heads -- silver was sure that he'd find his way back to grusha, every single time. and so time would pass, just like in this very present moment : in every sour note, every little inch of bitterness, every eye roll, and every sigh. their foreheads meet, and though he's quiet in letting grusha speak free without judgment or pressure of time, silver finally kisses their fingers, featherlight and almost inaudible in the quiet. kindness... that was another thing he hadn't expected someone to recognize, let alone say he possessed. "we have all the time in the world." said not just in response to grusha, but a second meaning as a comfort to himself. a veiled double meaning that, verbalizing aloud, has his own frame melting just that littlest bit more.

when grusha disappears around the threshold, silver allows himself to roll onto his back and finally give in to a full body stretch. it's a slow thing, unravels first at his legs as joints creak and begin their sounds in all its glory, before arms reach up past his head and it's a euphoric feeling. euphoric, yet marred by the physical protest he feels start to seep in after that initial exhale / groan of contented pleasure. it's manageable enough that this would've been a 'tough it out' day, rather than a bedridden one. silver's grateful for that semblance of dignity to remain in tact, atleast for now -- while he's sure such a description or day would be met with good company, there's still that part so hellbent on keeping his pain a secret. dulled away and kept under wraps, only for him and his pokemon to witness and bear. [ ... ... ] "coffee." his response is immediate. "although, i'm not opposed to a good cup of…" trails off as the movement by his feet captures attention within the instant it happens -- but there is not a single threat in sight. except, of course, the threat to his heart. silver can't even dare hold or mitigate the reaction that follows ; jaw going slack and eyes blown wide with surprise, wonder, something almost childlike stirring in the pits of his chest. he looks back to grusha, then to the vulpix ; back to grusha, and the vulpix once more and this time the grin that splits his face, stays. he coos softly at the small fox, a somewhat giddy laugh exhaled in a shaky breath. and when he speaks, it's soft for fear of startling small creature, for fear of letting his excitement become too much. "hiii… i -- i don't have any treats right now, but…" slowly holds out his right hand, fingers gently curved as a presentation of scent. "well, i promise i can bring them and double next time, as compensation."

sterling eyes full of fascination, lips parsed somewhat to form an o of a silent sound he muted almost subconsciously when the fox sniffed and gave a tentative lick. silver had always possessed a love in his heart for the vulpix line, thinks maybe that it could've even been a possibility that he would've had a ninetales on his team had the cards not played out like they did all those years ago. if he ever took the time to go about finding something that had given him joy, hope, rather than allowing himself to forget about it / squash it down when the mission was the first thing on his mind. for years. when he'd punish his own self by disallowing any sort of reward to himself, meeting and befriending a vulpix included. it's when grusha lightly scolds and brushes his finger against orange fur that has silver finally taking his gaze away from the kit and to his person. he distantly registers the bite at that, a delayed sort of reaction before the amusement fills in with softness, adoration once again seeping through in his gaze. "it's alright -- it's nothing compared to the bite of a totodile or croconaw." though feraligatr didn't dare as he evolved into his final form, silver knew more than once that it's crossed his pokemon's mind in the early days. and… grusha in this moment reminded him of gold, even if just a little. this was the best part of the house that dexholder had grown up in, the baby pokemon that wandered and roamed freely to intermingle with older ones. the best part that had long ago twisted up silver's heart with envy. he thinks maybe he could ask, even if just for the notion of an assist, but that very same thought's swallowed down and dismissed when he remembers that he'd have to ask gold of all people. nah. [ ... ... ] "they're a rarity in johto, even if they are native." silver speaks almost absently, and those the grin on his face lessens somewhat it never fully disappears or drops from his face. "i don't remember details, but i do remember always admiring vulpix and ninetales when i was a kid. maybe it was an old children's book that stuck with me." maybe it had been something used against him. forced to bury.

grusha speaks, they laugh, silver snorts at that -- a poor attempt at trying to maintain his normally dry banter in return despite the pure lightness / happiness (!!!) he feels practically emanating from his chest. genuinely tries to recall the memories with a reflective look on his face, stroking warm orange fur all the while. “mmm, maybe. maybe something like how if you come across one, maybe your greatest desire comes true — like in the form of a ‘lonely, disabled dude on a mountain.’ one that has really pretty hair and is an amazing person to get to know.” he can’t help the development of snorts into warm laughter at that, amorous feelings leaving him feeling rather playful. flirtatious?

grusha had been changing him, in just the relatively small span of time they’ve both been in each others’ lives. silver had never once imagined a life where romance could exist, his cynicism / fatalism had deemed it unrealistic. and yet, here he sat faced with pieces of his childhood being brought back, handed to him with roses and joy that should’ve been associated with childhood in the first place, waking up in soft morning light to face… to face his companion. partner. home. compass, lighthouse to bring him back in the middle of a storm. and if grusha catches his eyes at the moment – right at the moment that silver had unfocused / reoriented to coo at the vulpix so happily eating up all of the attention by his hands, and back up to them again… they might notice the way how pupils in stark contrast to surrounding silvery-white, seem to dilate the slightest bit. “my advantage, huh… alright, i confess. what if i told you, my evil grand master plan is to keep saying the sappiest things like that so that i could keep seeing how it makes you react? snapshot it all into my mind to paint later.” to adore later. lugia below and ho-oh above, who was he becoming? “to relish in the string quartet i always hear when you blush like that.” ( silver kind of liked it. thought maybe the person he was becoming might actually be someone worth existing. ) [ ... ... ] would you be interested in adopting them, when they’re old enough? his entire body full on stops at that. eyes flit back and forth listlessly, reading, searching again all over grusha’s face. “…really?” he feels numb for heartbeats of time, however long passes – long enough that the two kits voice their displeasure at the lack of attention and he’s quickly (albeit, still absently) resuming the gentle pets. silver thinks of all the years spent learning that how he had raised his pokemon was inadequate, and unsustainable – all the years spent overcoming all of it, and changing for the betterment of each and every single team member. he swallows and there’s a sharp pain from the dryness in his throat. he swallows again and it still stings. “i… i haven’t raised a new pokemon in… years.” in an instant, with just a single blink, silver sees that mask across every centimeter and in the fullest depth imaginable across his eyelids. in the way that such a beloved pokemon / thing had been kept, hung above his head like he was an animal being forced to run, forced to act meaninglessly forever. all of his desires, dreams, wants, being squashed and beaten into the ground until silver had nothing left. nothing to cling to in the recesses of his own mind, and those lessons were taken all with him. from then on, when he constantly failed / deliberately chose not to find things to be happy in. and with the feeling of ice spanning across his skin again – all at once the pain lancing through his hand, his wrist, right into the knuckle of his ring finger and gripping all the way around into his palm is enough for him to hiss. for eyes to shut away for a moment as he lifts off from vulpix and clutches his hand, fingers pressing directly into the junction between carpus / metacarpus when those nuisances of nerves feel like they’ve been lit on fire. and just as quickly as it comes, it goes. slowly he opens his eyes once more, and they hone in on home and the way how he leaned against the bed. and silver releases a shaky breath. [ ... ... ] so instead, silver nods. and despite the overwhelming disbelief melting into a tentative joy, he finds himself leaning in close to their face. finds that same hand to find their cheek again, lured in by the pull they had over him. "you're… too kind to me. but i -- " inhales, breathes out, "i won't let you down."

grusha takes his hand and kisses it, and silver feels overwhelmed with it. he’d been somewhat more acquainted to touching pokemon without the barrier of leather, and thus feeling the soft fur hadn’t been too much of a shock to his system – but the skin to skin… the way how their lips felt against that ache, it had become nothing short of intoxicating. silver found he actively wanted this, all of them, so much more. but — what if grusha had found out about silver and how he used to treat his team? what if, in the face of all the ugly sins of his past, they decided he wasn’t as suitable as they thought he was? silver feels the weight of his own heart on the verge of breaking at that thought, something like a familiar old ugly grief rearing its head. right in the shape of solid carved ice and menacing black holes for eyes and a smile. no. he was better than that. the connections that he’s forged and nurtured with his team made them a proper team, rather than extensions of his own being – and silver would never, ever revert back to the way he was. a strange, unusual confidence fills his chest from the back of his neck, down, to shooting through his heart and filling him with warmth to all of his extremities.

“we have all the time in the world,” he repeats. and when he says it that time, certainty like steel weaves itself into his bones. it’s that time that the doubts hanging over his shoulder constantly, finally don’t dare to ruin this. grusha’s fingers release his, finding themselves fixing up silver’s unruly sleep-mussed hair and he feels warmth itself finding ears / nape of the neck first. almost feels himself duck in shyness, an impulse to hide away the less presentable parts of himself (especially his hair, especially when he’d learned that for so long he’d been a wreck of a kid). but silver doesn’t give in. instead he looks at grusha in that moment, his grounding force / reassurance, and sees his favorite eyes and all their adoration and, for the first time it’s enough for silver to just simply sweep away his woes. and when vulpix squirms herself free from his lap, silver doesn’t bother to hide the laugh in earnest that flows off of his lips. and earnest turns to sheepish / flattered, an insecurity shining in the light and met with praise instead. “i’m glad one of us finds it cool. maybe i could learn to like it from your eyes.” [ ... ... ] and almost on cue, that unusual slip of hair practically announces itself and all silver could hear was a deep, bassy melody. he’s filled with a deeper sense of calm in response, his grin softening as he leans up and kisses their forehead / twines fingers with that darker lock.

#saved game.#long post #this is the quiet place where everything that’s warm and real inside of me still lives. ( grusha nomura ♡ )#yeah time to populate this tag #there is very much a clear progression / descent into complete derangement in writing style LOL #listen i am very very very normal over these two (lying through their teeth)#peep silver's slow descent into embracing his oral fixations manifesting in the urge to constantly kiss them #incoming post on why vulpix + ninetales mean so much to silver Soon #scary because this post got so ridiculously long and this is the Shortest Thread

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