#but i bet it would work well

[khealywu]

dead heat btwn taco dip and buffalo chicken dip for me

I am honestly deeply curious about people's preferences from this list. Mostly as I just made one of these and brought it to a potluck and it is gone. Leave your distaste for Midwest cuisine at the door please. Yes, all of it will fluff you up for winter, that's like 63% of the point.

But for real? Which one do you just... almost hate yourself for loving the most?

[hi-land]

playing around in my game for once lol

[sunderwight]

Thinking about the weird camaraderie that exists between demons but not angels in GO.

Have we ever seen two angels who are actually friends? Or even friendly to one another? We have met angels with a capacity to be friendly in general, but I think the closest we've come to two angels actually getting along would be Gabriel making a point to laugh at Sandalphon's terrible "can't have a war without War" line in S1.

Most scenes between the angels actually seem to have an undercurrent of absolute hostility. Teeth-clenched teamwork. No wonder it took them so long to notice that Aziraphale wasn't on the same page as the rest of them! The rest of them are barely on the same page as one another, either! When Gabriel goes against the majority vote, no one bats an eye at demoting him and wiping his memory. Michael and Uriel immediately begin vying for his job. The only times we've seen angels team up is when they're working together to bully someone else, like when they're trying to intimidate Aziraphale in S1 or going to the aftermath of the bookshop raid in S2.

Saraqael's overall neutrality towards Muriel is the closest we get to two angels in Heaven getting along, and it's more a lack of hostility than any kind of friendliness. At least until Gabriel loses his memories and Muriel shows up to spy on Aziraphale, and Aziraphale decides to be kind to both of them.

Demons, on the other hand, actually seem to form alliances and even friendships among one another. Hastur and Ligur are awful, but Hastur seems genuinely distraught over Ligur's death, not just fearful of suffering the same fate. Shax and Furfur conspire together and even though the 1940's investigation into Crowley's fraternizing doesn't work out for Furfur, it's not due to any double-crossing on Shax's part. Unlike the angels, who stick almost exclusively to making threats until the Metatron decides to try dangling a carrot at the end of the season, demons actually offer rewards to other demons when trying to work together. Beelzebub offers Crowley a promotion if he can bring them Gabriel, Furfur offers to back Shax up politically if she goes for the Duke position opening, and Crowley successfully stalls Hastur in S1 by pretending everything was a test and he's going to be put in charge of a legion as a reward for passing. They're still not great at socializing, but they're significantly ahead of the angels.

Of course, it's a fact that demons are awful to one another (Eric's treatment is really bad, they throw that random demon into holy water just to test it, "it'd be a funny world if demons went around trusting one another", etc) but they still seem more capable of forming friendships than the angels do.

I think that's because Hell cramps and crowds everyone together to try and increase their suffering and hostility, whereas Heaven isolates angels to decrease the odds of questioning or rebellion. Hell's methods are unpleasant, but it still ends up putting demons together, and some of those demons inevitably forge alliances and make friendships. Because as Crowley and Beelzebub demonstrate, demons are still social creatures with the capacity for love and affection, even if it's strongly discouraged and buried under nine million layers of trauma and a cultural mandate against kindness.

Angels are the same, but isolation makes is harder to form connections than overcrowding. Muriel and Jimbriel are both so eager to make friends, but Muriel's spent the past millennia shut in an empty office, and Gabriel has been distanced from his peers both through his position and also through Heaven's culture of fear and surveillance. He only breaks away from it when he finds something that's stronger than "choosing sides" (stronger than the fear of being rejected by Heaven and Falling, in fact strong enough that Falling seems worth it if he gets to be with someone he loves). Both Muriel and Gabriel are only able to start forming connections when they're away from Heaven.

I just think it's interesting that demons, despite being supposedly devoid of love, have an advantage in forming relationships compared to angels. Angels are supposed to love, but have far fewer opportunities to actually do so. Demons aren't supposed to love, but they make connections anyway.

[dykedvonte]

Can you talk about trans!Curly a little bit more? I'm curios if you have any headcanons and the like

-💀

It's just such a thing in my mind because it adds a truthful sadness and differing aspect to mouthwashing.

If Curly was trans it adds the horror of the horribly selfish thought he could have easily been in Anya's situation. It could've been him but it wasn't and he so conflicted on the pit it put in his stomach that brings and the shameful relief it wasn't. In this scenario he is friends with Jimmy for a long time still. Jimmy likely knew him pretransition. Maybe he gave Curly weird looks then, maybe they never stopped after, maybe they seemed meaner. They are guys now, bros, both of them are. He doesn't really have to worry what those looks mean anymore, Jimmy just has that face with him sometimes. It's recontextualizing a lot of things for him that he was in denial about or too ashamed to admit. How naive he was being and how he let that get another person hurt.

Specifically with Anya, it's he knows the dread and fear she's feeling. He can understand it because he had to live with it for a good portion of his life, he knows it cause he still does, just in a slightly different way. It makes him think of all the times he's been alone with Jimmy, all the times he's been way more drunk off his ass and not remember the night, Jimmy was always with him the next day. Makes him think of the comments he would laugh off both because that's what guys do but because that part of being a girl says to laugh so Jimmy doesn't do something. It's the selfish realization that he was never safe and he's uncertain now too. Mad at himself for forgeting that feeling, espcially since for a long time he would've been considered the only woman on a crew (with all that implies) for a long time.

He should've taken those blinders off, step back into that position for just a moment and it's so much more painful that Anya likely came to him because he should've gotten it. Those thoughts don't leave his mind after the crash when he's in an even more vulnerable position than she was...

[trans-androgyne]

To get a proper picture of modern trans oppression, you need to recognize the ways trans issues have varied across history and still vary heavily across places. I made a post the other day about how things have changed in my country for trans people over the past 50-100 years, but it was incredibly US-centric, a huge issue when trans discussions on here tend to be western-centric in general.

I feel most folks recognize that where things are bad for queer people generally, they're terrible for trans women and similar groups. It's illegal to be queer in one-third of all UN member countries, and in 13 cross-dressing is explicitly criminalized. Such laws have often targeted transfeminine expression specifically. And of course, Trans Rights as we know them (such as access to medical transition, ability to change gender markers, anti-discrimination laws) are a struggle in even relatively accepting countries; there are plenty of trans and other gender non-normative folks that don't have access to the most basic rights I do as a trans person in the United States. Problems trans folks face here, like trans women being forced into sex work, are even more prevalent and severe elsewhere in the world.

But fewer people seem to recognize that where things are bad for cis women, they're terrible for trans men and similar groups. There are so many places where those considered women are put under much heavier appearance and behavior restrictions than here and I can guess that trying to undergo any amount of masculine transition would not turn out well for them. Where I live, we may have gotten better than 50 years ago about not treating women as babymaking property, but there are 46 countries where marital rape is not a crime, while 40% of folks globally live under restrictive abortion laws. I know forced pregnancy as a form of controlling and detransitioning trans men and mascs happens enough where I live, and I cannot imagine what it would be like to live a transmasculine life under these conditions. I'm privileged by where I was born, and hope to find more stories of trans and gnc lives in other places. If anyone has any stories to share or somewhere to point folks towards to educate ourselves, it would be incredibly welcomed and appreciated.

[lgbtlunaverse]

Thinking of the Nie disciple that told Nie Mingjue it was Meng Yao who stayed behind to clean up corpses on the battlefield today.

Nie Mingjue didn't just randomly stumble upon poor lil meowyao eating bread in the novel, he was already looking for him to thank and reward him for his work.

That's what makes it so fun that nieyao's first conflict will end up being about someone else taking credit for Meng Yao's work.

And I'm sure that Nie Mingjue's actual opinions on plagiarism are a lot more nuanced, all we really get from him in this scene is "well you shouldn't kill someone over it!" which leaves a lot of room for what punishments he thinks are appropiate. But I bet that it isn't occuring to him in this moment that the only reason he knows Meng Yao at all, the only reason he got such a capable deputy, is that he noticed someone was taking care of the dead and cared enough to want to know their name. And then the Nie disciples didn't lie to him. The disciple he asked could have said "it was me, Zongzhu" to rise in the ranks himself, but he didn't. He went and asked others, who all also could have taken the credit, but they didn't. Someone saw Meng Yao working and decided to be honest about it and that simple decision is the catalyst for Meng Yao becoming Nie Mingjue's deputy.

Meng Yao can't just work hard to get results, others have to acknowledge that work. If they don't, it's as if he didn't do anything at all.

[sluckythewizard]

these are A BIT OLD but uhhh here check out these aggio doodles i did forever ago. still VERY happy w my colors :3

[pushing500]

Goodbye, Angst; we hope you had a good time staring at the wall in the laboratory. Mechi cordially invites you to never return. xoxo

Mechi is excellent at childcare

I distinctly remember looming over my parents' bed in the dark and waiting for them to wake up when I was little. I bet it's much creepier when it's not even your kid doing it, just some random child who wandered into your house.

I bet Mechi hates being called "Mr. Jones"

First | Next | Previous

[askbloatedbellyblog]

Deuce Spade is an big eater

White Rabbit Fest made me realize how far in advance Twisted plans and that Deuce Spade is reference and so is his obsession with eggs. It also proves he's a bigger eater than I thought.

In the event, they call Deuce "Cold One Duke" which was really "Cauldron Deuce" from his delinquent days. It's a reference to "Cool Hand Luke" - Though I think they changed it for him having an intervention by his mom.

Well in prison, Luke takes a bet to eat 50 eggs in an hour and even has help to do it. But he finishes them.

So by this standard, I'm pretty sure that this is why Deuce loves his eggs, why he's "Cold One Duke" and he's a bigger eater than I originally gave him credit for.

[backpackingspace]

Young odysseus convincing everyone Ithaca is nothing but a poor island with rocks and goats to avoid any raids/conquerors/so he doesn't get murdered for talking to Helen bc "it's not like he's a real choice"

Young odysseus falling in love with Penelope at the same event: wait. Wait shit I fucked up hold on just hear me out

[deus-ex-mona]

when the slowburn makes the ship extra cute~~~

[kazz-brekker]

rotating the two spymasters of the dance of the dragons in my head like a pair of rotisserie chickens

[firebirdsdaughter]

Something that occurred to me this time…

… Is that Eliot deliberately brings Hardison w/ him to confront Moreau the first time. He tells Nate that he and Hardison will do it (don't worry, I also Love Hardison taking the moment to be like 'hey, are you okay?' bc those two usually express themselves through bickering so much that it clearly telegraphs just how off Eliot is being that Hardison is dropping the usual banter to be serious).

Which for one thing, says something about Eliot's confidence in Hardison in general, but also, like… Yes, Parker's probably not the choice for that introduction, it's not her style, but Nate or Sophie could also have played the part. He could have tried to go alone. But he pulls Hardison.

Obviously he's not trying to put Hardison in danger, he makes it quite clear in all other scenarios that he does not tolerate Hardison in danger (visual cues in The Gone Fishin' Job my beloveds), the others are well aware of the fact that he's Done Some Shit and are equally unaware of his connection to Moreau. And to be honest, I can't pinpoint an exact reason why I think he might have done it, chosen Hardison to be the one who finds out first. Maybe he suspected Moreau would underestimate Hardison, making him safer (relatively, if course), then someone like Nate or Sophie. Maybe he thought it would be best to have Hardison's tech skills as back up. Maybe he thought Hardison would roll w/ the punches the best. Maybe he just wanted Hardison there for morale.

I don't know, but it's a moment that didn't really occur to me the first time, but I think is actually quite meaningful in a more emotional way.

[martianbugsbunny]

"I'm not with Gravik cause I'm with you" vs whatever the heck Priscilla's doing

[tautozhone]

can argue to death with me about how age restrictions on youtube are necessary but i will be DAMNED before i say Hinds Hall deserved to be age restricted. average american child on youtube can listen to H*rbu D*rbu (censoring in hopes to avoid algorithm engagement with the song) which is IOF praising genocidal propaganda, and- big fucking shocker- its not age restricted. i’m 100% sure the only reason Hind’s Hall was restricted was to deliberately suppress and avoid the spread of the song.

[volostogekiss]

an eternity spent (one-shot)

No warnings. GN!reader, time-traveling/immortal Volo. Established past relationship. This man is just in love with you a lottt okay. It gets pretty wholesome because I want a happy ending :)

(Based on the Pokémon Masters EX and PLA premise because I’m waiting for when Volo is released in PoMas plsss)

Summary: Life was just how it should’ve been between you and Volo in Hisui. A love tried through trials immeasurable would never be broken, but fate always had a way of taking the things you treasure the most from you when you least expect it. After what had happened on Mount Coronet, you’d hardly spent a few months together, until you’d disappeared without a trace one day. 

But perhaps, fate could be merciful as well.

Volo had spent nearly two hundred years without you, waiting for the day to find you once more. He has his chance when he’s brought to Pasio, and it just so happens that he learns you’re the first Champion of the island.

He won’t let you go, this time.

I’m the one who is lucky to have you, my love.

How often had he thought of that, told you so as he’d embraced you?

He’d always trace his teardrop pendant he’d given you as it sat around your neck, his fingers drawing meaningless patterns on your chest and his lips caressing yours.

How often had Volo thought himself lucky to have you by his side, even when he felt undeserving of your love?

He was lucky that you had forgiven him for his misdeeds, his anger, his hatred. You’d forgiven him for breaking your heart, but your benevolence to allow him a second chance to love you…

Volo hadn’t ever experienced such happiness before, until you.

He was foolish to think that he was lucky enough to stay with you forever, however. It was too easy to lose himself in the bliss of your perfection, but how could he have avoided it? You were perfect.

Of course, his Pokémon were dearly important to him, but you were the one good thing he’d never thought he could ever really have. How right I had been.

He cursed Arceus for taking you from him.

The morning he had awoken with you gone… it haunted him every night. At first, he’d thought you had merely wanted an early start to the day, that you were trudging your way to Jubilife from your home far down in the Sandgem Flats. It had disappointed him that he hadn’t been able to kiss you awake, but as the day dragged on without you, that was trivial in comparison to your unexplained absence.

Volo could do nothing but wait for you. He trusted you. He knew you would return, wouldn’t you?

Creeping in before he had really wanted to acknowledge it, that doubt stole into his mind, worried him, and hounded at him incessantly. You weren’t there to stop it.

You weren’t there.

He hadn’t wanted to believe you had left him. Volo trusted you, as you had trusted him.

But three days after your disappearance, he went to Jubilife, hoping that someone else had seen you.

No one else had.

You had just vanished.

Part of him wished that you had left him, if it would spare him the pain of being separated from you in a world not even of his own. A world he had no connection to, no way to reach, a world that condemned him to agonize without you.

He knew it was so, for it could have only been another cruel act in the play of Arceus’ grand absurdity.

He had cursed his forsaken god more times than he could recall, so he couldn’t believe it had been the one generous enough to bestow him this opportunity to reunite with you on Pasio. He could put no faith in Arceus, for the deity had never accepted it, but presumed it fitting to both bless and damn him with immortality. Then, instead, Volo chose to lay his faith in the strength of your love—the only constant he would keep in his heart. Perhaps his fate had finally played out as it should have—with you, and only you—or maybe some other force besides Hoopa, as he’d learned, was at work, but Volo wouldn’t let you escape him.

Not when you were here, too.

His heart had almost shattered with a hysterical joy when he saw it was your picture flashing on the walls of the buildings all around the island. Maybe it’s once more that I’ve been lucky to find you. Of course, he wasn’t surprised that you were crowned as the strongest Trainer—the first PML Champion, as he’d heard. You’d defeated him and Giratina, after all. A lofty pride surged through his heart as he thought of your success here, and a burst of desperation compelled him to find you despite knowing nothing of Pasio. Its differences in landscape and culture compared to the Sinnoh he knew from only decades prior were inconsequential when you were here, waiting for him to seek you out. Ignoring how people had stared at him while he asked for you, whether for the uniqueness of his features, his noticeable accent, or some familiarity they said they saw in him, Volo thought only of you.

Their opinions were naught but useless blathering, for only yours meant the world to him. He needed to hear you. He needed to see you. He needed to feel you.

After what felt like an eon apart, Volo wouldn’t let anything take you away from him again.

Not when he knew how much he loved you, and how much he knew you loved him.

It didn’t even matter that you couldn’t remember anything of him.

Still, he hadn’t expected his heart to sink when you had first met at the Trainer Lodge, as people said you often were there in the morning. His heart should have soared upon seeing you, exactly as you were, exactly as he remembered you, but he supposed he was truly unprepared for the reality that you had forgotten him.

Smiling at him as you did to everyone else, you greeted him like a stranger after you gave him your name. “Oh, hello!”

The heat roiling inside him had almost caused him to lurch forward, pull you close, and call you his love. But Volo simply smiled at you, unable to keep the adoration from twinkling in his eye when he saw his pendant around your neck, even as you remained unmoved when he spoke his name.

“‘Volo’…” you repeated his name with a thoughtful hum, and by the stars, he trembled. It was almost as it had been back then, when you’d said his name in so many different ways, brightened by your happiness, shaded by the flushed tint of yearning love, and even coarse amid your grief. Ah, his name always sounded best upon your lips!

“It’s nice to meet you!”

He was glad you said nothing about his uncanny likeness to Cynthia; it was a difficult point to ignore as it was one of the most common things he’d been told upon his appearance in Pasio, but of course, you would be the one to look at him for who he was. And despite how much he’d heard of her, his descendant he should rightfully be interested in—shouldn’t he?—Volo found he couldn’t be as fascinated with her as he was enamored with you. You were always his priority, and he couldn’t change that.

He would make sure you would remember. If he could wait almost two centuries to see you once more, then the time spent to recapture your heart would be mere seconds in comparison. He would hold dear those seconds, treasure them like nostalgic days far gone in the past.

“Here,” you proposed generously, showing him your own decorated Poryphone, which he thought looked awfully akin to your old Arc Phone, “how about we stay in touch?”

Volo couldn’t help that his mischievous nature had revealed itself so readily in your presence. “I’d love to. You’ll have to teach me how we go about things on this island, I’m afraid.”

“Oh, I’d be glad to!” You’d accepted his Poryphone and flashed him another smile. “I think we’ll get along well—I just have a feeling.”

Volo grinned. “I happen to think so as well.”

And while he supposed he should have been acquainting himself with everything this artificial island had to offer, nothing could captivate him like you did. He often asked you more questions about yourself than Pasio, even after you’d taught him about battling with his Togekiss as a sync pair. He should’ve been focused on the second upcoming tournament. He should’ve been focused on battling harder, for your skills had only improved after your time apart.

Even more so, you’d graciously invited him to compete on your team, but he couldn’t help himself. He needed to know if you could remember him, if you knew anything of Hisui. You had even said it yourself that he was a man of many questions, but you never seemed to grow tired of them. Then and now, you had said you enjoyed hearing his voice, and Volo absolutely loved it. You hadn’t changed.

“Hm, so even as I and other Trainers were brought to Pasio with our memories intact,” Volo considered with an uncharacteristic sullenness marring his expression, “you haven’t been able to recall anything.”

The pair of you were seated upon a square balcony, framed by flowers at a seaside café. A shared breakfast plate rested between you two, just as Volo saw it on the little dining table you had built together in your home.

“I don’t know. I wish I did. A few of my Pokémon were brought with me, but I don’t remember anything still. I wish I remembered…”

One of your hands drifted to the silver pendant settled on your chest, the action so natural it was apparent you had often fiddled with the charm. Volo smiled at that. It was reassuring that you subconsciously thought of him, even if you couldn’t remember him.

It really was you.

You brought your hand down, rested it on the table beside your untouched cup of neatly sliced fruit and berries. “Sometimes, with how many things are happening on Pasio, and the fact that I’m the Champion, I tend to lose myself in how happy I’ve become.”

Volo then wondered if it was better for you to remain happy without your knowledge of everything that had hurt you in Hisui, even if that included himself. Only you knew what he’d done to you, since you’d told no one else about his betrayal. And with how Adaman and Irida had welcomed him as a friendly face on Pasio, he knew you really hadn’t said a thing. Should he let you feel that pain again? He shook away the alternative of leaving you ignorant of matters that were yours just as much as they were his. Your love was worth that suffering; you had told him so, and you always did when his doubts were too easily read on his face.

He often left it at that.

He could never give you up anyway, regardless of what you’d told him.

After all, months had passed, and Volo was sure that you were seeing him as more than a friend. Despite how common it was to exchange Poryphone numbers, he had been on Pasio long enough to understand that whether one continued communicating after that really spoke volumes of your relationship. You were popular, of course, as your prestigious station demanded, but you still wanted him by your side. So why else would you have wanted him on your team? Why else would you keep showing up to talk to him and present him little gifts whenever you saw him in the Trainer Lodge? He knew why. It was exactly how he’d been all those years ago in Hisui whenever he’d seen you. He’d curl into your palm tokens of his affection, the mementos small, but telling of his boundless love for you. His hooded gaze, warm touches, and reluctance to part from you were surely clear enough signs for you, weren’t they?

Privy to rumors as he’d always been, Volo knew that it was certainly obvious to anyone else who looked your way. With their knowledge of your relationship from the past, the two clan leaders could see it, but neither felt it right to interfere with history, instead allowing him to court you as he had before. So why should he still wait to proclaim his love to you? No one else could love you like he did. None had waited nearly two centuries to be reunited with you, and never had he faltered in his stride to find you again. Throughout the lonely years that had stretched over the melancholy patience in his heart, Volo never forgot you.

He could never forget you.

When he least expected it, the rush of emotions—relief, love, and sheer happiness—tended to overwhelm his heart. But then at the worst possible moment, when you faced one another in a training session, he often felt himself pulled back to that day on Mount Coronet, and it slowed his reactions, forced him into clumsy mistakes, and worried you.

Like today, as the two of you fought against one another, in a secluded clearing at the northern forest’s edge of the island.

“The intensity of our battles sometimes brings me to such a state of nervousness that even I can’t quite comprehend it!” he lied, and he hated that he had done so again.

The last time he’d lied to you…

He didn’t want to think of it.

And yet, you never let him remain lost in his uncertainties. Your wit, your humor, your genuine concern… Volo could see how you looked at him with nothing but appreciation for who he was. So much more for someone who had been a stranger to you just short of half a year ago—

“Well, don’t think I’m not watching you,” came your playful retort as you stepped closer to him.

From behind you, Solgaleo pawed at the ground, its tail twitching. It almost looked amused.

Volo ignored your sync partner. He turned back to you with a smirk he hoped would distract you. “I’d prefer it if you watched me all the time, actually.”

“Volo—!”

He laughed, and he was relieved that it wasn’t long before you did too.

Oh, how he’d wanted to hear your laughter! He’d thought he’d never hear it again, but when he’d heard it so close just a day after meeting you again, he didn’t know how he’d lived without you. It hadn’t been over anything significant that caused you to snort, then laugh, but it had been because of an off-handed remark he’d made about the number of times people had felt the need to stare at him for his similarity to Cynthia.

“I think most of them are looking because you’re unfairly handsome!”

Volo had frozen. That was what you had told him when you’d first become friends. You’d admitted it with that same laugh, then gone on how the two of you should take a picture together.

And in this modern age, you’d done so more times than he could count, the album in his Poryphone full of photos of you and him.  

It seemed you were thinking of something along those lines now, for you were almost touching him, that smile you saved just for him on your lips.

His heart fluttered.

He wanted to kiss you very badly then.

Volo often realized he was dangerously close to dipping down and pressing his lips to yours, but always, always, regrettably, he stopped himself before he did. He’d brush it off as some dirt on your face or a stray eyelash dropped upon your cheek—excuses to touch you as he had when you were lovers.

Oh, and if you could just see the way you looked at him now.          

“You know, I’m really happy that you’re here, Volo,” you whispered quietly, leaning forward to gently take his hand.

He let you wind your fingers between his, felt his world tilt and rush away from him just to come careening to a halt as he thought of the first time you’d held hands. A breezy spring day. His enthusiasm for exploring the ruins he’d wanted to show you outmatched by his excitement to be alone with you. The wonderful, rugged and soft skin of your palm, the warmth blazing against his hand. The startled look on your face, then how you’d smiled at him so brilliantly. He looked up at you, saw the glimmer in your eyes, saw that same beautiful smile, and then the overlapping memories were almost too much for him.

It was almost the same, but this time, it was you who had reached for him first.

“The longer I’m around you, I think there’s something so pleasantly familiar about you that I just can’t understand.” Your lips twitched upward when he placed a hand tentatively upon your waist. “It’s like I know you, even though I hadn’t met you before you got here.”

You don’t know how well I know you, and how well you really know me, my love.

Volo tilted his head, drew you in so that your clothes brushed against one another’s. “I don’t think you realize that I’m beyond happy to hear you say such a thing.”

Not once had he ever stopped loving you.

Your eyes wavered when he cupped your cheek hesitantly, and you could barely manage to remain still in his arms. Thudding and twisting in your chest, your heart pounded in your ears, and you swore he could feel how unsteady you were. “Volo, I don’t know what it is, but when you look at me like that, I can’t help thinking that I—”

“I love you.”

Volo wasn’t even sure if he was the one who had said it, but he knew he was the one who had moved to kiss you.

He’d always dreamed of kissing you again—fantasies clouding his mind throughout his wistful mornings, or soaking deep into his skin as he lay alone at night. You’ve always been everything I’ve needed, he hoped to tell you with the craving press of his lips against yours, and somehow, I’d known it the moment I’d met you.

I love you.

He held you closer, turned to catch his breath, but couldn’t deny the desire to steal yours away again. How could he hold back any longer? He couldn’t. A wanton growl escaped him as he chased the warmth of your lips, but before he could kiss you again, you stiffened in his hold so suddenly that he had to let go.

“I knew you,” you gasped, a light in your eyes that shone clear in recognition of who he was to you. “I knew you, Volo. I—I loved you, and I know I still do.”

Immediately, with a cry of delight, Volo swept you up in his arms, twirled you in the air, and laughed to the heavens, the unprecedented reaction catching both you and him by surprise.

“My love, I’ve waited for you for so long—”

You were the one to lean in and kiss him this time.

“You’ll have to tell me everything later—“

He nuzzled against you, then set you back down on the ground, his lips brushing against yours.

“Of course,” Volo chuckled, “we’ll have all eternity, now that we’re together again.”