#hope this all makes even a bit of sense

[linkvcr]

What are your biggest art influences? And how would you personally describe your style?

Hope you’re having a most epic swagtacular day :]

hero’s-shade-fanclub

hmmm honestly first thing that comes to mind is my friends! we call a lot so i get to watch them draw and i think it has influenced my style quite a bit. other than that ... one thing i do get influenced by a lot is concept art from media i like. smth abt concept art is always rlly good to me

and im not quite sure how id describe my style! its kinda hard for me to describe it at all LOL, it was very interesting seeing how other people would describe my art though, back when i asked for the evil art style challenge [which i still need to do, whoops] if i had to try though, maybe textured and soft? just bc i hardly ever use sharp angles in my art and always use textured brushes lmao

hope u are having a good day too :-] o7

[bitchslapblastoids]

Was thinking about how much of a normo I come across as irl, how I’ve felt a lil odd person out at their shows bc of being a bit older (29) and looking so aggressively normal, how generally confused people in my life would be if they knew about my d&p obsession, how thoroughly i mask weirder traits and essentially codeswitch to suit the mainstream, etc.

i feel kind of fish out of water when I imagine how all the people that populate my tumblr phandom ecosystem are likely presenting to the world irl (I.e. more visibly queer, counterculture, and so on). But then I think maybe the most visible phannies are the ones with the most curated, alt, deliberate daytoday lewks/style? So maybe what I’m picturing is off base? But then I’m also basing this off of what audiences look like in audience footage, m&gs, etc.

Sooooooo i would like to know… do you guys feel like you present as someone who may be Deeply Online and obsessed with two gay nerds from the internet? Or do you hide it and fly under the radar, masking as a total normy and living a double life?

(To clarify I don’t mean you’re like out and about wearing the fringes boob sweatshirt lol I more mean vibes and overall lewk yk?)

[ganondoodle]

the closer we get to arcanes finale the more worried i am bc so often .. if not always .. things i like end in a way that i dislike so much it ruins everything else for me

and im so worried they pull a 'this is a multiverse' thing bc then they can say every skin is somehow canon bc its all different universes you seeeeee and jayce went mad bc he lived through all of them or something, or force it to end in a way that makes the champions end up like they are in game- Vi is a shitty cop, Jinx is just heehoo craycray bc xyz etc

[inke-ri]

So I couldn't help but browse the THG tag bc those books own my whole heart. I actually check it now and again, and it's been interesting see how opinions have changed over the years, especially in regards to Gale and Peeta. Going through the evolution of them as just potential love interests to being far more complex than I could have expected has been a wild ride. Crazy how this reads different than from when I was a preteen.

That said, I wanted to give my unsolicited two cents on my boys, because though I have been enjoying the discussion on Peeta and Gale and what they mean to the story, I also feel like reducing them to Peeta = peace and Gale = war is far too simplistic... and oftentimes unfair to one or both of them.

See, I don't think Peeta and Gale are peace and war/destruction. They're compassion and indignation.

Peeta worries about the other tributes, or their families, or how to repay people like Rue and Thresh for what they did.

Gale is indignation at how the Capitol treats its citizens, it's anger at the injustice of inequality and brutality.

Both are needed in a story like THG. You can't have people like even Peeta not say something like "maybe we're wrong about keeping things quiet in the districts", you can't have him not drop the baby bomb, you can't start a revolution without Gale's indignation at the status quo. At deserving a better life but being denied it, at having your kids be mercilessly killed for literal sport.

However, if you start a rebellion and loose sight of your compassion, you end up no better than the people you're fighting against. Gale wasn't a bad person, imo. His heart was in the right place. He was flawed, yes, but so is everyone in this series. Gale, most importantly, lost sight of the line between fighting for the people he cared about and fighting against the people who hurt him.

Reducing Gale's indignation to just revenge and hatred ignores so much of what he stands for. Who hasn't seen laws passed that dehumanize people, who hasn't been angry and furious when someone is elected who fundamentally hates everything you are, who doesn't think some people need to pay for the atrocities they committed? There's a little bit of Gale in every single one of us - and it's important that it's there, because that's what gives us strength to challenge the status quo and make life better for the future generations.

But. You can't let it take over. You can't loose sight of your compassion or your empathy.

That's where Peeta comes in. Peeta is the voice in your head that worries about how many good lives will be lost when they give themselves up for this cause. Peeta is the worry about the people caught in the crossfire. Peeta is rebuilding when it's over and believing that the next generation will have a better life than your own. Peeta is being kind, even to people who may not deserve it.

And Gale... Gale looses sight of his compassion, and he doesn't realize it until it smacks him in the face when the bombs go off and Prim is gone and he's too far gone. Meanwhile, Peeta advocates for the end of the war even though it means the status quo remains - and regardless of what he believes himself, I don't think Suzanne chose him to say those lines by chance. It means both mindsets have their flaws: too kind and things that shouldn't remain will never be challenged and changed, too angry and you may loose sight of what you're fighting for.

And that's just how Suzanne uses her characters, both of them, all of them. Just look at who is with Katniss depending on the situation:

- Katniss chooses to "rebel" after Gale is brutally whipped. She kisses him.

- Katniss realizes that in order for D12 to rebel, everyone would need to be in on it, and she realizes most of them are not like her, that they're scared and she understands, emphasises with them. Peeta walks by her side.

- Katniss finally does it though, shoots the arrow at the force field, and Peeta is taken from her, it's now Gale by her side.

(You can't start a rebellion without indignation, and sometimes you HAVE to do it or things will never change, regardless of the inevitable pain that will come along.)

- Katniss is righteously angry at the Capitol bombing a hospital full of innocents to make a point. Gale remains there.

- Coin twists people's compassion into an army to fight for her own personal gain. Peeta is hijacked and looses his sense of self.

- Katniss and Gale go to District 2 and even though she tries to be like Peeta, she's still shot- reinforcing Gale's views, the person who was with her during that sequence.

- Katniss is angry at Snow, Katniss goes to the Capitol to kill him. Gale is there.

- Katniss gets in way over her head and realizes she is responsible for the death of most of her squad. She shares the lamb stew with Peeta, and later cleans his wounds.

- Finnick dies and she's at her lowest up until that point and all she wants to do is give up and give in to the anger. She kisses Peeta and begs him to stay with her.

... Claiming that Gale is destruction ignores the fact that he's with Katniss through her own moments of strength. Her desire to change things, to fight back, is as important as her compassion. Mockingjay just brutally shows you what war does to your indignation, to your compassion. How easy it is to cross a line between righteous anger and revenge, or how your sense of empathy and compassion can be manipulated into something monstrous by others, or by all the terrible, brutal, painful things you see.

How easy it is to loose yourself- and that goes for both of them.

Peeta and Gale aren't static characters, they go from representations of sentiments regarding an injust government to what happens to those feelings when an extreme situation such as war breaks out. All of that, by the way, while dealing with this duality themselves, because they are still characters who think and feel and struggle and have flaws of their own- and while I love what they stand for, I've seen too many comments that pin everything into what they mean, that they forget that Peeta and Gale are still people, they aren't perfect metaphors. They're human.

Ultimately, Katniss doesn't really choose peace. She wants peace, yes. But what she chooses is compassion. empathy. hope. There's a time and place for anger at injustice. There's a time when fighting back is the right thing to do. There are even times when you wanna give in to your despair and lash out. But if you want peace, then you have to choose Peeta, because Peeta represents what you need to focus on to achieve that peace. You have to let go of the anger or you won't ever rest. So Gale leaves, and does not come back... And yet, Katniss still has her moments of indignation, of making a stand, even as he goes - she still casts her vote at that meeting, she still shoots Coin. Katniss does not abandon that part of who she is. It's just not her main drive anymore.

So then she goes on to make the choice, every single day, to be compassionate to others. To have hope. To rebuild. Of course she chooses Peeta.

... Idk, man. These boys are so much more than what I see them so often reduced to. They're in all of us. There will be times to stand and fight, and times to show mercy and be kind. We just need to find that balance, as Katniss eventually did.

[osamusriceballs]

Miya special course! <3

Enjoy the special meal for today! I humbly offer:

Osamu x creampie + Atsumu x degradation

Warnings: NSFW, fem reader

Words: ~ 3,2 k

A/n: Happy Birthday to our beloved twins ✨

Kinktober Masterlist II -> Next day

"C'mon, Y/N. Do you really want me to spend my birthday with that ugly-ass prick?"

Your eyes dart towards the sulking blonde setter, who has his arms crossed in front of his chest to show his dislike. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up just enough to reveal his impressive forearms, proof that he has been training even harder lately for the Olympics.

"I promised that I would spend the day with 'Samu and that I'll spend the night with you. We all decided that together last year, remember, 'Tsumu? To avoid the chaos?"

You smile at him, and his gaze softens when he looks at you, his arms now falling at his sides and revealing his broad chest. "I'll miss ya, pretty girl. Don't have too much fun with him; I get jealous otherwise, ya know?" He winks, and you feel a blush creeping up your cheeks. His silver tongue and charm always get you flustered with seemingly no effort.

"Oy, oy, 'Tsumu, know your place. Your time's tonight. She's mine for the day." OSAMU brings his arm around you, effectively pulling you into his chest, and you shamelessly press your hot face against his body to conceal your embarrassment and deeply inhale his scent. The alluring mix of his perfume and the pleasant smell of freshly made food fill your senses, clearly a sign that he cooked something today, probably something for you, since the restaurant remains closed today. "C'mon, princess, I prepared something for us. You can leave, 'Tsumu. See ya later." Osamu directs you towards the back of the shop, his arm never leaving your waist and holding you close to him. He simply ignores the protests of Atsumu, his lifelong experience with dealing with Atsumu showing, and his yells and rambles become just a faint background noise as Atsumu exits the shop.

Osamu's touch sends shivers down your body. His warmth is comforting to you, and the slight pressure of his arm as he holds you makes you feel safe with him. Your eyes dart towards his face, curious to see if he is as relaxed as his posture and tone make it seem, and he is. Osamu looks good, as always, his calm demeanor making him even more handsome and attractive in your eyes. His dark hair messily hanging into his eyes, long forgotten the days when he used to dye it grey, but he looks equally as good with it, so good that you can't even decide which color you prefer on him, much to his disdain when he had asked for your advice a few years back. Your response made him pout adorably, a sight you only know from him when he accidentally messes up a food order.

"Shouldn't I be the one to cook for us? Or get takeout for us? It's your birthday after all." You look up at him, but he only tightens his grip around you for a second and effectively squeezes your body with one arm, while the other opens the door swiftly.

"Princess, it's my duty to make sure yer satisfied- and that includes you having a full stomach as well." He directs you through the door and quickly closes it, your eyes barely taking in the sight of candles and a delicious meal on top of a table right next to a cooler with a bottle of champagne, before he suddenly spins you around, your back pressing against his chest and your ass right at his crotch. "Wanna spoil ya so bad, princess. My beautiful girl."

His lips find your neck, his hands roaming over your sides, while his fingertips just barely graze the skin under your shirt. You instinctively arch your back into him, tilting your neck to allow his lips to press against your throat, and he releases a deep breath before he starts to nibble on your skin. Your hands press flatly against the door, your heart beating slightly faster in your chest the longer he continues his ministrations, surely leaving a few dark marks that Atsumu will see later. You enjoy the feeling of his lips against your throat though, of his hands, that are now completely under your shirt and lazily grope your chest.

You slightly wiggle in his grasp, your thighs pressing harder together the more he works you up, and you can feel his lips basically curl into a grin before he pulls back and brings his hands down to your hips to turn you around. He's still caging you against the door and you look up at him expectantly, eager for him to continue. "What do you want to do? It's your birthday, you can wish for anything today." He quirks a brow at your words, his grin widening, and he looks like a predator observing at his prey when he leans down until your foreheads touch.

"Shit, wanted to keep it tame, but princess. Can't stop when you offer yourself like that," he barely rasps against your lips before he connects your lips, deepening the kiss instantly and groaning when you return the kiss just as passionately and wrap your arms around his neck. Your hands fidget with the hem of his shirt, feeling his warm skin under your fingers and the muscles of his neck tensing under your touch. One of his hands coming to your cheek to tilt your face in the perfect angle to deepen the kiss and to push his tongue into your mouth, and you moan as you hold onto his broad shoulders to keep you steady. Your legs clench together as you push your tongue against his, feeling spit already coating your chin, but you don't care, not when he's kissing you as messily and hot as he is right now.

"Samu-" you groan his name, and he suddenly presses a leg between yours, the muscular thigh causing you to stand on your tiptoes. "Just- a bit more, princess." You feel the hard bulge pressing against you, a clear sign of how much he's turned on, your pussy pulsing when he suddenly starts to grind his leg against you. You kiss him again, your hands now clawing into his shoulders while you rock yourself on his leg, the fabric of your panties rubbing against his expensive dress pants and creating just enough friction to keep you satisfied for now. His hands glide down your body and one of them moves under your skirt, making you moan and grab his shoulders harder when he rubs against your panties, finding your clit with just a few strokes of his fingers. The lace allows him to easily rub through the material, and you mewl under his touch, desperately kissing him even harder, his groans vibrating against your opened mouth.

"Wanna feel you inside, Samu- please-" You throw your head back against the door, not caring about the slight pain when you bump against the wood, and his response is an immediate nod, quickly pulling back and directing you towards the counter, wordlessly gesturing you to lean over it. You quickly follow his directions, pulling your skirt up to free your ass, and his hand almost immediately connects with your ass check, leaving a slight sting that sends just enough pain to your back to arouse you even further. "Princess, yer temptin' me here to give ya a good spanking. Want Tsumu to see how dirty our princess is for me. How yer beggin' me to fill ya up, to see my cum drippin' out of ya." He presses his coffined cock against your back, and you push yourself further against him, just waiting for him to finally fill you up. Another sharp sting on your ass makes you yelp out, the pain pleasurable and all forgotten when his hand kneads the sensitive spot on your ass.

"Samu, please- don't tease me," you whine, your legs spreading further, knowing how much he enjoys the view. It only takes a few moments for him to pull his pants down until his cock is free, rubbing the tip a few times against your panties before he pushes your panties to the side and slowly presses against your entrance. It's a blurry haze for you, the way he is almost tortuously slowly pressing his cock inside of you, centimeter after centimeter, every vein and ridge of his cock rubbing against your insides, feeling so, so good. "You'll look so good when yer full of my cum. Wanna feel that cunt creamin' for me, show me, princess." He stops for a second when he's fully bottoming out, his hands gripping your hips firmly and holding you close. A sudden sharp thrust of his hips takes your breath away, and you find yourself giving into the fast and harsh rhythm that he sets.

"Yes, just like that, just like that, Samu-" you press your ass further against him, arching your back for him when you feel his cock hitting just the right spot, his groans and deep breaths making you moan even louder for him, your mind hazy and filled with pleasure. "Oh, princess, I'll fill ya up so well, my good little girl, such a good girl for me-"

A gasp leaves your lips when you clamp down on him, your walls pulsing around his cock and milking him. You barely notice how he relentlessly pounds into you, your mind only filled with the thought of him filling you up- and you're basically screaming his name when he cums, his body tensing and his grip firm around your hips while he holds you in place. You're almost drooling at this point, your breaths shallow and uneven, and you barely realize how he whispers sweet praises in your ear, his hands rubbing your sides while his lips graze your neck again, softly kissing the dark spots.

"Yer gonna keep it inside and tell Tsumu that ya've been a good girl for me. Taking me so well, lettin' me fill up that pretty little pussy." A shiver runs down your spine at his words, anticipation already filling you up for Atsumu's reaction. You gasp for air when Osamu slowly pulls his softening cock out of your fucked out pussy, instantly fixing your panties to stop his cum from spilling out as you tense your muscles on your lower abdomen to hold it in. You slowly turn around, his hands still on your hips, and his gaze ever so soft when he looks at you.

Osamu presses a final kiss against your lips, so loving and sweet that you melt against him without any resistance, and then finally proceeds to carry you to the table.

xxxxx

"Come here princess.“ ATSUMU tugs on your wrist and pulls you down to straddle his lap, effectively putting you in a position that you slowly realize will make Osamu‘s cum drip down on him with no way for you to prevent it. Atsumu is quick to notice a shift in your demeanor, he always is, and your eyes widen when he brings a hand between your legs and presses his palm against you.

"That‘s from him?“ his fingers rub against your panties, clearly feeling the wet stain of the mixture of your cum and Osamu‘s- and you feel how your face burns at this action. "I- yes.“

His gaze seems to darken, and a smug grin adorns his lips. "It‘s alright, princess. 'm sure he fucked ya real good, didn’t he? Can’t deny a birthday boy, right?“ You nod at his sympathetic tone, your heart almost pounding out of your chest, knowing fully well that the marks on your neck and the wet stain on your panties are enough to get him riled up and competitive. Atsumu taps your panties twice, his fingers ever so soft when he finally pushes them under your the fabric right into the mixture of your cum. He pushes two of them inside with no warning, his fingers thorough as he curls them into all your sensitive spots, causing you to gasp his name and to claw your fingers into his shirt. "'Tsumu- what are you-" you whine when he pulls them out abruptly, your body feeling empty and missing his fingers already, but he is quick to shush you.

"Now clean that mess up. Be a good little whore for me, hmm?“ A sinister look is reflected on his face while he stuffs his fingers in your mouth, enjoying the way you squirm on his lap while you lap your tongue obediently around his digits. "Samu‘s princess, but a whore for me, huh? Ya want it both, pretty girl? Need both your twins to satisfy ya?“ Your eyes widen at his words, you pussy pulsing and aching for him, craving for his touch while you suck his fingers clean. He presses your tongue down and you gag when his fingers advance further towards your throat.

"You're doing so well, princess." The pet name sounds mocking coming from his mouth but you mewl under his touch, enjoying the way he makes you hot and bothered with just a few words. "C'mon. Pull down my pants and take what ya need. Be a good little slut for me." His dialect is thicker now, his eyes heavy lidded while he watches you, and you only manage to nod, his fingers still in your mouth, drool coating your chin while you hastily scoot back a bit to fumble with his belt.

Your fingers tremble and you furrow your brows when you need a few attempts to open the clasp, a low chuckle leaving his lips at your desperate attempts to pull down his pants. "So eager, huh?" You frantically nod, and don't hesitate for a second before you pull down his pants with his help, just enough to free his cock. He's hard already, not surprising you much, but just seeing him, leaking a drop of precum that rolls down that delicious curve of his cock, adds to the coil of desire in your stomach. He suddenly pulls his fingers out of your mouth, bringing his wet hand down to your ass and smacking you hard- his aim precise like always, a skill of setting and analyzing countless moves for years now.

"C'mon, fuck yourself on my cock like a good little slut. Don't make me wait." Another slap on your ass check emphasizes his words, and you involuntarily clench around nothing. You desperately lean down to kiss him, but he tilts his head to the side just in time for your lips to meet his cheek. "C'mon. Ya need to earn a kiss if ya want one."

His teasing and mocking tone is almost too much for you to take, but you know that he's craving it as much as you do when he sighs and wordlessly kisses you after seeing your pouty face. The kiss is heated, his desire unmistakable in the way he touches you, the way he rests his hands on your lower back and holds you close. His cock presses against your lower stomach, slightly twitching the longer you both make-out.

You slowly direct your body over his cock and hastily pull your panties to the side to align him at your entrance. He sighs when you start to sink down on him, taking the fat tip of his cock inside of you, filling you up so good already. Your head falls back when he thrusts his hips and finally bottoms out, his hands on your back the only thing holding steady. Your hands bury into his blonde locks, pressing his face effectively against your chest, his lips quickly moving to kiss and nibble on your exposed cleavage, leaving marks there alongside the ones you already have from Osamu.

You slowly start moving, raising your hips until he's almost completely outside of you, and his grip tightens around your hips at the action, his jaw clenching when you slam down on him, your mouth fully opened and gasping for air at the sudden pleasurable feeling. "Such a good little slut for me, my good little slut, c'mon, use this cock, it's all yours," he rasps against your skin, and you move again, more vigorously, grinding and fucking yourself on his cock.

You gasp his name, your hands gripping his shoulders for support, and you can already feel the muscles of your legs burning as you keep on moving the more you speed up your movements. His hands grip your hips tighter when he notices how your breaths come more labored, and he start fucking up into you too. You clench around him and moan his name, knowing fully well that you won't last long like when he keeps on fucking you like a toy.

You both moan and groan, the sounds definitely reaching the neighbors that will complain the next day for sure, but you just moan louder when he thrusts even harder. You don't even warn him that you're getting close, you just clamp down on him when you stumble over the edge, overwhelmed by pleasure, moaning his name and gushing around him while he moves your body further on his cock. "Fuck- princess-" a surprised groan accompanies his words while he keeps on bouncing your body before he curses again and spills into you, his cum mixing with yours.

You fall down on his body after a few moments, your bones and muscles limp after he slightly eases his grip around you, but he still makes sure that you don't fall back to the ground. You cling onto him like your life depends on it, your arms weakly wrapped around his neck while your face rests on his shoulder.

"Shhh, I'm here, I'm here for you princess. Breathe with me, you did so well, always so pretty when ya cum for me," he whispers in your ear, the sound of your heartbeat so loud that you almost can't hear him, and you let him whisper sweet words into your ear until you finally come down and breathe normally. His hands hold onto your body, his lips kissing every inch of your skin that he can find, and you find yourself slowly relaxing against him the more he keeps on treating you with utmost softness and care.

"C'mon, let's get back to Samu, and he'll cock somethin' nice for all of us." Atsumu's voice suddenly brings you out of your haze, a little louder than the sweet whispers before.

"I don't think he'll cock something for you." You retort with a snort, thinking about the last time they were bickering when Atsumu came to the restaurant and kept on demanding for free food.

"That's why you're the one askin'. He'd never say no when yer beggin' him for somethin'." Atsumu chuckles and rubs your back one last time before he leans back to look at you- his blonde hair messed up in a way that makes him look even more attractive- almost too much for you to take.

"Okay." You smile at him, loving the way he's all playful and caring especially after doing such lewd things, just your adorable Atsumu.

"Y/n?"

"Hmm?" you look expectantly up at him, and his smile is so adorable and soft that your heart skips a beat at the sight.

"Ya know that we love ya, right? Yer perfect. Perfect for us." He accompanies the words with a soft kiss to your lips, and you smile widely when he pulls back.

"I love you too. Both of you."

[doodlejoltik]

grass knot

[~4.5k words, read it here or on Ao3. tagged with Volo and Lance since they appear as prominent characters; Rei-centric]

Why is it that even the thought of confiding in Akari, his closest friend, makes something constrict in his chest, choking out the words?

Rei, caught in the stirrings of a new arc, tries to rise to its call, but trips over the past at every turn.

A full rewrite of that Mysterious Stones chapter where Volo first shows up, from Rei’s POV, plus a bit more. Written mostly before the Arceus Arc began.

(Setting expectations: a lot of this fic is just Rei Thinking About Stuff haha. Love getting into his head! His characterisation is a little bit different/more nuanced compared to the other Rei oneshot I wrote; hopefully you'll still be along for the ride if you've read that one!)

-

“Show me thy bond.” It echoes inside Rei’s skull, down to the very bone, the same as in his earliest memories. He nearly buckles under its weight, but it's a welcome feeling.

After so long without direction, this is a relief. Arceus has finally spoken.

The words fit perfectly with the half-remembered fragments Rei had received some weeks ago in the middle of the night. Why hadn't they been intelligible then? What makes now different? The sync stones ultimate are one factor, of course. Maybe Arceus draws power from them, which is strange to say of a deity, but from what he knows of the Plates, it might not be so far-fetched.

Prince Lear disperses the murmuring crowd; so, the audience all heard it too, not just those on the arena floor. Professor Bellis congratulates Bettie. Cynthia, Lance and Steven whisper among themselves. And his mind still whirls with new theories as they gather together.

What does Arceus want? 

‘Seek out all Pokemon’ had meant completing the Pokedex. At least, that’s what he’d assumed. Now, this time, Arceus likely means for them to showcase bonds with their Pokemon, given the context. But what does that actually entail?

Cynthia’s words cut above everyone else's. “Rei. Was that voice…?”

All eyes are on him. He breathes deeply, steeling himself, as the familiar weight of it settles in. Things are moving, now. 

“Yes. I'm certain. That was —”

“Indeed! That was a message from Arceus!”

His words catch in his throat. Off-balance, suddenly, as all his thoughts fall away, replaced by a swooping feeling he can't quite identify —

He whirls around.

Volo is here.

He takes a few steps back, an involuntary half-stumble, before remembering himself. 

Those flashes of movement he's been seeing, the feeling of being watched, a Togepi, unattended: they’re all now terrifyingly validated. He'd half thought them a product of his overactive mind.

“Excuse-moi, pardon me… but who are you?” Professor Bellis ventures. 

“I'm Volo — a humble merchant who loves history and mythology!” With that, he flashes a winning smile. Rei could laugh at the sheer audacity of it all, but his thoughts are still strewn across the dusty ground, scattered, and they slip from his grasp as he tries to gather them up. Whatever sense of gravity he’d felt upon hearing Arceus’ voice has completely lifted.

“But more importantly!” Volo continues. “When the arena shone brightly, I also heard that voice.” He brings his hand up to point at the air with enthusiastic emphasis, a gesture still so terribly familiar. Rei clenches his fists, feeling the nails dig into his skin. Not really out of anger. More as a reminder.

The last time he’d seen Volo had been. Well. Memorable. But that isn’t the image that smiles back at him now, tripping him up. He's in Gingko uniform again, complete with ridiculous oversized backpack, which Rei had thought discarded, up there on the peak. Apparently not. Had Volo returned later, still seething, to collect his things? The concept is strangely hilarious.

“I wonder… these sync stones ultimate… might they be some sort of test from Arceus? If we could show him that ‘bond’ he desires —”

“Sorry, test? Arceus?” Cynthia interrupts with a frown, holding a hand out. “What makes you say that?”

“Why, it's quite simple. Arceus' presence was summoned by these stones, in this exhibition, and he requests us to further show our bond. What else could he desire?” Volo says, gesturing widely. 

Rei finally pulls himself upright — scrapes his thoughts together into something resembling coherence. The initial shock has drained away, settling into a distant sort of apprehension. He watches silently. Volo’s not really saying anything too unreasonable, but where is this leading? 

There’s so much he doesn’t know. What has Volo been doing, all this time? How long has he been on Pasio? What does he hope to gain, approaching them like this?

He’ll let Volo continue, then. It's an opportunity for some of those questions to be answered.

(And it gives Rei time to think of what to say.)

“Well, put that way, that does make sense,” Steven nods along. “Should we organise for more trainers to try the stones, then?” 

“Oui, I would love to gather more data!” Professor Bellis answers. “However, the stones are still quite volatile. There is progress on this, yes, but for now, I would like to limit their use, capisci?” 

At this, Bettie speaks up. “Yeah, it was weird.” She runs a hand through her Pikachu’s fur, the mouse curled up lazily in her arms. Nobody in Hisui was quite that affectionate with their Pokemon. Certainly not Akari, though she'd grown closer with her own Pikachu over time. As for himself, Decidueye had been standoffish, averse to being carried even as a baby Rowlet. Well, actually — as his distracted mind digs deeper into memory, he recalls — there had been Volo and his Togepi. 

He casts that errant thought away, buries it deep once again. Bettie is still speaking.

“And it was like nothing was there, at first, and Pikachu and I had to concentrate really hard. And then — whoosh! Wow! Overwhelming,” she shifts Pikachu’s weight to one arm to gesture with emphasis, “and all at once.”

“And this is when Arceus spoke,” Lance asks. 

Bettie nods, now subdued. “It was a rush! I think you guys could handle it, but I dunno if everyone could.”

“If I may,” and all attention returns to Volo. “It seems the stones can currently be used by trainers with particularly powerful convictions, and bonds with their Pokemon,” he gestures with a smile to Bettie. She blushes. 

At the casual flattery, Rei can't help the small frown that twists onto his face. It seems innocent enough, but compliments and niceties can so easily mask true intent. 

Especially with Volo.

Volo continues. “Perhaps we might solve this by way of a tournament, of sorts. Allowing Arceus to witness our talent and dedication, with the victor bestowed the honour of using the stones! Of course, the winner of such a competition would have the fortitude necessary to handle such power.”

Well, taking that to its logical end… Volo wants to win, and be granted this ‘honour’ he so conveniently proposed. But why go to all this trouble? The stones appear out in the streets quite often — apparently, found even by preschoolers. Volo should have no trouble obtaining them.

Does he know something they don't?

“Bettie here led the first winning PML team, did she not?” At this, the girl in question smiles Mareepishly. “And that is why she was the one to demonstrate the stones, I presume,” Volo inclines his head towards the Champions.

Informed guess, or something more? He thinks back on half-seen, furtive movements, and wonders. 

“That's right,” Steven confirms. “Bettie is a shining example to us: a leader of the next generation. We decided there was no better choice.” 

“So you suggest we hold another tournament,” Lance says thoughtfully. “Well, there is precedent. Prince Lear,” he turns to the Prince, whom Rei had honestly half forgotten was there. “What do you think?”

Before Lear can reply, Volo reinserts himself into the conversation. “It would be a grand tournament, truly fitting of Pasio's reputation. Why, perhaps, the deity Arceus might even be compelled to descend —”

Ah. So that’s what he intends. “Aren't you getting ahead of yourself there?” Rei interrupts. He means to sound stern, but it comes out sounding more incredulous. Not at the idea itself, but at how brazenly it’s admitted.

“Perhaps,” Volo says with a careless shrug. He doesn’t acknowledge Rei any differently than the others, still maintaining their inadvertently shared ruse. “It's only speculation, of course, but it is exciting to think about!”

“Hmph! I believe I was the one being addressed,” Prince Lear declares, arms crossed. His red shades flash dangerously, eyes hidden under their glint. Directed at him, it's almost like the full glare of an Alpha Pokemon.

Rei’s face flushes with heat to the tips of his ears. Great time he picked to enter the discussion. He quietly ducks his head down; the Prince is in charge, here, after all. He'd rather not test his patience. 

Meanwhile, Volo just smiles, seemingly unfazed. 

There's a part of him that really wants to know how Volo does that. It's just — he's so confident. How can he be so sure that everything will work out in his favour?

“A grand tournament,” Prince Lear ponders, tapping his foot. “And what could be grander than the second Pokemon Masters League?”

“Indeed!” Volo beams. “I'm sure the audience would love to see the clash between a king and a deity, would they not?”

Lear's tapping stills. His guarded stance loosens; he's taken aback. Volo emphasised king, and oh, Lear's official title is Prince. Hm.

There's something more deliberate about it beyond just casual flattery. 

Lear uncrosses his arms and seems at a loss, for a moment, on where to put them before straightening up with his hands on hips. “Is that so?” He laughs. “I like the sound of that!” A pause, unnecessarily dramatic. Nobody breaks the silence, not even Volo. 

The Prince looks around with some satisfaction and continues. “Very well, then. The winning team of the second PML will be granted the honour of using the sync stones ultimate.” He grins, sharply, red shades flashing once again. “Which will include me, of course. Hahahahaha!”

“You have a real gift for making quick decisions!” Volo says cheerfully. The tension breaks. Chuckles arise from the rest of the group, and Rei can only stare in disbelief. That — that has to be mockery, right? But everyone else seems to take it as light teasing, even the quick-tempered Prince himself. 

Against his better judgement, his gaze catches Volo’s. 

He doesn't know what he expects to see: amusement? Satisfaction? Triumph? And there's some of that, but it's a wry, knowing sort of look, like a joke shared only between the two of them. 

Already the others are starting to animatedly discuss between themselves. Bettie makes a teasing comment to Lear, who scoffs. Professor Bellis says something about checking in on the sync stone technology. Cynthia, Lance and Steven form their own little group again, speaking in low tones, and he can't quite follow their discussion. 

It seems like he's the only one who notices Volo quietly slipping away, and he's got half a mind to do the same. 

Would it be incredibly ill-advised to follow him? Probably. But he still has questions. And it’s possible that Volo will let his guard down when they're alone. 

(Even to him, that seems incredibly optimistic. But there’s things between them that he himself would rather only unearth in private. Maybe Volo feels the same way. And even if not, perhaps he'll gloat, or tease playfully, and let on something of use hidden in the thorned barbs.)

It's not like he has much left to contribute here. Tournaments and competitions and organised displays are foreign to him. The Neo Champion Stadium had felt so different from the kind of battles he’s used to… which, in part, could be why he lost. 

He needs to train. If everything rests on the result of this tournament, he has to be ready. 

The group seems to be naturally dispersing, at least — Professor Bellis just excused herself — so he won't be missed. With some quick words, he, too, turns to leave. They can handle this part, and Rei will do his. 

Prince Lear had mentioned a winning team, and Pasio battles are generally three on three, from what he's seen. Who could he ask? There's Akari, of course. And the clan leaders, but it would feel strange to team up with only one and not the other. A little bit too reminiscent of another time. 

His steps carry him nearly to the edge of the arena.

Besides, he's getting ahead of himself. He still has to… well, he should explain everything to them. About Volo.

Even all these months later, it still aches. He had buried it all, hoping to let it rot away, to be free of that thorny mass of contradictory feelings that arose every time he dwelled on it. 

But the longer he waits, the more impossible it seems to explain — to explain not only the events of that fateful day, but also his own, confusing silence on the matter. Though he’s tried to plough the field, turn it all over and start anew, it still lies just beyond the surface, and a single misstep is all it takes to snarl him all over again. Why is it that even the thought of confiding in Akari, his closest friend, makes something constrict in his chest, choking out the words?

(Akari is unquestionably the one person he's closest to. But there was a time when that singular title wasn't so clear cut.)

There’s a sort of tunnel that leads out of the stadium, a long darkened archway that passes under the audience stands. He's about halfway through when he hears footsteps from behind, swift and purposeful strides. 

His breath catches, for a moment. But Volo left first, and the arena had been flat and wide, with no corners to lurk in. Besides, it's too loud. Clearly telegraphed.

Cynthia, maybe? 

He turns. The face that greets Rei is slightly less familiar. “Lance,” he acknowledges the Champion. 

“Rei,” Lance greets in turn, stopping a few paces away. Arms crossed, silhouetted against the light of the arena and framed by the tunnel’s dark, arching walls, his tall figure is — intimidating. 

He can’t help but wonder whether that's deliberate. 

“You left before I could ask,” Lance says, and there's a pause. “As someone who has prior experience with Arceus, what do you think of all this?”

A fair enough question. But the way it's said… sounds a little too carefully worded. Casual, but purposefully so.

What sort of answer does Lance expect? 

“It sounds reasonable enough,” he decides to say. As much as he hates to lend credence to Volo’s proposal, he can't think of anything better. It somehow seems to suit their needs perfectly, which he's sure is no accident. “Back in Hisui, I was told to seek out all Pokemon, so I helped with the Pokedex. In the same way, I guess this could help fulfil Arceus' new request.”

Lance nods along, but his brows furrow. “You sounded more sceptical, earlier,” he points out. 

Ah. Not really his intent, but… “That was about the more…” he casts about for the right word, “speculative part of it. I don't know if it would really call Arceus down, or anything like that.” Though honestly, he doesn't know that it won't.

“What do you think will happen, then?” Lance asks, with clear curiosity, and, well. He doesn't really have a good answer to that. 

“... I don't know,” he admits. “I never actually completed the Pokedex, so I'm not sure what happens after Arceus’ request is fulfilled.” He had been close, but there had still been so many minor tasks that needed finishing, things to busy himself with, to arrange and get in order before he had to face Giratina again. 

He hadn't been ready, yet. Maybe Arceus had grown impatient, and brought him here to confront his problems directly. Maybe it cared. Maybe it didn't. 

(Seeing Giratina with Cynthia had felt a little like he was the punchline of some divine comedy.)

Lance purses his lips and looks off into the distance, out of the stadium, past Rei. He wishes he could read the man’s expressions better; as it is, the set of his brows calls to mind Kamado, and everything else tangled up with it. 

Finally, Lance’s gaze turns directly to Rei once again, and he speaks. “That Volo… you two know each other.” 

It’s not a question, but even then, the expression of unguarded surprise he can’t hold back might be answer enough.

Lance has one hand on his hip, the other, at rest, is framed by the drape of his cape. He looks down at Rei as he states plainly, “His clothes aren’t of modern make, so the logical assumption would be that he’s from Hisui. Cynthia confirmed my suspicion. And, historically, Hisuian communities were few and quite tightly knit. It’s more likely than not.” 

He tries to keep his expression carefully neutral, as logic digs deeper, dangerously close to things unexplainable. And the earth is already recently disturbed, soft, friable. He can’t offer much resistance. “I've seen him around,” he concedes.

“But why did neither of you acknowledge the other?” Lance looks confused; frustrated, even. “Even a passing acquaintance would be notable, with both of you being here in the future.”

And here — this is familiar. The accusations. The questions he can’t answer. But it’s different; it’s not that he doesn’t know the answers. He just can’t seem to put them in an order that would make sense, to anyone else.

(Does he really understand, himself?)

But eyes are on him, and he needs to explain, in whatever unsatisfactory way he can. “Volo and I… it's complicated,” he laughs weakly, tugging at his scarf. “He genuinely does love history and mythology, you know. I guess I wouldn't be that surprised if he was right about Arceus.” All those times they’d pored over ruins together, Volo excitedly babbling on about whatever legend this one related to — there had to have been the seed of something real, something genuine, in that. 

It’s not really an answer. Lance can obviously tell, because he crosses his arms. 

“Is he bad news?” he asks bluntly. 

There’s no twisting his way out of this one.

Some of the panic he’s feeling must bubble up onto his face, because Lance’s expression softens, just a bit. The man sighs. “Look, Rei, I don’t know what’s going on between you two, but us Champions need to have all the relevant information. This tournament, the stones,” he gestures around them, “affect everyone here on Pasio. So I’m sorry about involving myself in your business, but it's necessary. Should we be keeping an eye on Volo?” 

It’s obvious what the correct answer is. And every second he delays responding makes him seem all the more untrustworthy. He questions, a little hysterically, why this of all things is what he stubbornly roots himself for, risking this place he’s made for himself in another unfamiliar land. 

But his jaw works, and all that slips out of his throat, past the thorny tangle, is a “Maybe.” The most ground he can concede. “Volo’s… passionate about Arceus.” Which is perhaps the biggest understatement of both this century and the last. 

There's an expectant pause. He almost leaves it at that, but it seems it's too unfinished a sentiment for Lance. “He wants to be seen by it.”

“The same way you are?” Lance says sharply. Arceus, he picked up on that fast. Rei hopes he leaves it at that. A rivalry fallen apart, twisted into bitterness and jealousy, nothing more.

Nothing world-ending. 

It’s not like he doesn’t trust Cynthia, and by extension the other Champions. It’s just… he can deal with it himself. It’s what he was probably brought here to do, anyway. The thought of someone else turning him over, and finding him lacking — fighting his battles for him — makes him uneasy. 

“Yeah, something like that,” he answers, with a painful swallow. 

Besides, he hopes he can resolve this peacefully. He’d beaten Volo before, even after he’d flipped the rules of battle on their head. And this time Volo can’t upend the script; one good thing about tournaments, he supposes, is that the rules are rigorously upheld. A different sort of battleground.

He wants to laugh at that. Suppositions and wildly optimistic thoughts are his only foundation, and yet it’s enough for him to reject all possibility of outside help.

Then again, if he can’t even bring himself to tell Akari, what chance does he have of breaking that self-imposed silence, here, on less familiar ground?

Lance hums, assessing this. He uncrosses his arms. “If that friend of yours does anything drastic, tell us, alright?” he says. It’s said warmly, but there's something serious to it. An undertone. “Our job is to help out wherever we can, so don’t hesitate to reach out.”

Rei tries for a smile. “Understood.”  

Lance nods, and looks Rei up and down, though it's only a subtle flicker of his eyes. His gaze lingers on the scarf at Rei’s neck, which Rei realises he’s been fidgeting with unconsciously. He lets go with faint embarrassment, feeling caught out. 

The other man sighs. “You can go, you know?” There’s resignation in his voice. Maybe even something apologetic. In that moment, he seems more like Kamado than ever.

Rei doesn’t want to turn his back to him, but he wants to be here even less. So he nods, stiffly, and turns himself around, continuing the dark walk through the tunnel and out the stadium at a steady pace.

He doesn’t run.  

(But his hand hovers by his satchel, where Decidueye's Pokeball rests.)

It’s only when he’s walked for a good while, out into the harsh sunlight, through the town outskirts and to a more forested spot, that the tension drains from him. He sits at the base of a large tree, feeling a little lightheaded.

That was… an interrogation, to put it bluntly. And he can’t really fault Lance for it. To anyone, he's sure, his actions are confusing at best.

Unfortunately, he’s found that he’s less than clear headed when it comes to Volo. He turns over Lance’s final words. That friend of yours. It’s not surprising Lance phrased it that way; everything Rei had said had been carefully woven to lead him to that conclusion.

Except it hadn’t been misdirection, not fully. He does still think of Volo as his friend, despite everything.

He slumps backwards, against the trunk of the tree, feeling the rough bark dig against the base of his skull. 

What is he supposed to do with that?

Apparently, one of the worst days of his life isn’t enough to uproot over a year of growing camaraderie and budding friendship. Too many memories knot together, a stubborn tangle impossible to pick apart. He’s tried not to think about them too hard, but they tighten their hold once again, from where they lay dormant and buried.

Many of them have been forcibly recontextualised. He’s second guessed every helpful gift, every directly admiring word, every coincidental and fortunate appearance, as something deliberate and cultivated. But some of it, it seems, doesn't fit so neatly with that singular goal.

One day, they’d watched Togepi use Metronome for an hour, ostensibly for Rei’s surveying purposes. Important documentation of a seemingly random phenomenon, and all that. In actuality, they laughed the entire time, with no useful or coherent records to speak of, as the results became all the more improbable. 

They’d camped together, those last months, as the search for the Plates got wilder and more exciting. He knows Volo’s favoured way to build a camp-fire, and how he wakes up unreasonably early in the morning, and that he prefers sweet foods over savoury, unlike Rei himself. A hundred mundane familiarities shared, taking root in fallow ground.

Once, Volo had been his only friend in the entire world.

Is it surprising, then, that he can’t lay this friendship to rest so easily?

He wonders what it means, that the hand offered to him at his lowest point was the same one that always meant to drag him back down. And what it means that he still wants to reach for it.

Had any real feelings been sowed there, on Volo’s part? Or was the entire thing a carefully constructed weaving, an intricate field of grass knots laid around Rei, ready to catch him in their snare? 

He can’t quite strangle the hope that something of their friendship still exists, even if neglected and overgrown. And that’s the part that scares him.

He has Akari, and Adaman, and Irida. He has Professor Laventon and the Captain, though they’re far away. Then there’s the Wardens, more friendly faces: Mai, Sabi, Ingo, and all the others; there's Zisu and Pesselle and Beauregard and everyone else in Jubilife. New friends here on Pasio, too. 

He pulls out Decidueye’s Pokeball from his satchel, and rolls it around in his right hand. He has his beloved Starter.

He has friends. He has bonds.

Why can’t that be enough?

The Pokeball he’s holding isn't the original. He'd had to break that well-loved possession in two, and recapture Decidueye in this modern device. It's a distant echo of its predecessor, wooden grooves and clunky iron replaced by smooth metal and near imperceptible seams. The weight of it is all wrong. 

But despite that, it's still his partner, and that's what matters.

(The two broken halves sit in his satchel, too, carried on his person at all times. It's yet another thing he can't bring himself to let go of.)

He sighs, tracing formless shapes in the dirt. His hand finds one of the sparse clumps of grass that grow here, directly under this wide and mighty tree. Deprived of proper sun, it’s a miracle that there’s any at all. 

It seems more and more likely that he’ll end up looking for Volo on his own. To get answers: not only about the stones, and the tournament, and Volo’s intentions with Arceus, but also for his own ends. 

Maybe there’s still something there. A single glimpse of life in this scorched earth between them.

He doesn’t know what he’ll do then.

Where he sits, what little grass there is has grown long and ragged, as their leaves stretch and reach for the sun. He sets Decidueye’s ball down and plucks two long blades. With a few simple loops and twists, they’re deftly woven together into a knot. He considers it, looping it around his fingers; tightens it, pulling on both ends, until he can feel the entire construct threaten to snap from the force. He stops. 

The thing is, no matter if it was never meant to be real, deliberately sowed, intended ultimately for harvest — it’s all the same, to Rei. He wants to keep it alive. He’s hopeful. Naive. Selfish.

For a single, impossible moment, he wonders whether this is what Arceus meant by bonds all along. 

The knot goes in his satchel, where it will turn dry and brittle with time. But kept safe, unbroken, regardless. Maybe his future self will laugh at his sentimentality. Maybe, he won't remember why it’s there. 

Wouldn't that be for the best?

He tucks Decidueye’s ball away, with care, then hauls himself up, both hands braced against the dusty ground. There’s dirt under his fingernails. From under the tree’s darkened canopy, he squints into the afternoon sunlight.

There’s a lot that needs to be done. He needs to train for this tournament, for one. Learn more about modern battling. Pull together a team. With that, ask Akari, and perhaps Adaman or Irida. Confront Volo, somewhere in all of this. 

After that? Only Arceus knows.

One step at a time. 

He finds his footing, around gnarled roots. The grass crunches underfoot. And he steps into the light.

(So maybe I was just snared by the grass knots you laid in my path. But if I wove my own, would you fall for it too?)

[vitaetmorsfilo]

i wonder, could be that slay the princess, which as far as i understand it about a lot of things but i think most of all is about choices, could also be about art?

the thing that gets me intrigued is that the princess herself has said that she is what player perceives her to be, "if you believe i can do it, then i can", and that what makes the shifting mound, different perspectives of her

that sounds to me a lot like commentary on some modern art nowadays, that modern art is not just a thing, but your feelings towards it that shapes it. there was a little comics snippet, where man was looking at malevich's square and called it useless, and the second panel was the painting itself screaming at man that he is useless (i can't for the love of me find it). so, the mans feelings towards the picture shaped the picture itself in his mind.

some may say that it is what is art, a sort of conversation, an exchange between the piece of art and the viewer.

and i think it falls neatly into place the dynamic between the princess and the hero/player. the former is the art, in all it expanse and variety, while the latter is the viewer, who brings it clarity, whose feelings shape the world around this art in one moment of a time, while having conversation not just with art, but themselves, too.

[the-kipsabian]

wrestling fic writers!!

i have decided to be the change i wanna see, so lets do a nice little thing for each other, as a community full of incredible and talented writers. yes this is writer specific only, but thats cause thats where the main problem of people not interacting with creative works lies in this fandom as far as i can tell and have seen people talking about it especially in the last couple of months

if you read this, please add links to your written works. it can be just a single fic youre really proud of, your writing blog, your writing tag, your ao3 account, anything where your works can be found

and if you leave your link here, PLEASE check out someone else that has left their works, and interact with them. leave them a comment, even just a kudos, REBLOG their fic, etc. interacting is the keyword i want to emphasize here, along with building a sort of a masterpost of where to find people writing in this fandom

and if you are not a writer, youre still highly encouraged to interact with this post and share it and show love to the writers in this fandom, obviously!! i think that should go without saying, but adding it in anyways

a bit more about my vision and resources and such under the read more, but thats the gist of it. happy linking and please be kind and supportive to each other!! 💜

nobody is too big or too small to add their things on this list. if you write and post anything in this fandom whatsoever, be it fics or drabbles or headcanons, any companies or any kind of ships or reader inserts or any content whatsoever no matter how 'dead dove dont eat' or hell even if its just meta, we welcome all here and nobody can say that one thing is less valid than another. just please tag your content accordingly, especially if theres content warnings, and feel free to mention what you write, who you write, any info you wish to leave that would help people before they click on your links. but even so, that should not and hopefully will not deter people from interacting, no matter what it is. someones trash is another ones treasure, i promise you

and unless the amount gets really overwhelming, im personally going to be checking out everyone that leaves something here. unless it squeaks me out, but even then, i'll spread the word. and i just wish as many people as possible will do the same, and not just use this as a potential board to only get eyes on their stuff. ofc thats also the point, but you should give as much, if not more, than you get. we need to be kind and supportive of one another (besides, from personal experience, if you show love to someone else, they are more likely to do it back than without you taking the first step, so... pay it forward)

as for resources, heres a few links that should be helpful in leaving comments and feedback. of course everyone does their own thing and no comment is too big or too small to leave, but for those who need them. if you have anything you'd like added to this list, dont hesitate to get in touch or drop it in the post yourself!!

101 comment starters

ao3 floating comment box

kudos html

dont know how to comment? easy solutions

a quick hot guide to commenting (by yours truly)

an overall guide to appreciating fanfic writers

and just in general.. leave people comments. leave them asks about their projects. just go over and gush about their work. i know it sounds embarrassing but writers love nothing more than to hear that someone likes what they are doing. if you find a fic that hasnt been updated in forever, comment on it. it might just be the spark the author needs to continue. while kudos and likes are nice, and just as valuable to some, its definitely in the words the people leave for them that matter the most. im not saying this to put pressure on anyone, its just how it is, and i feel like unless people are writers themselves, and even then sometimes, thats just hard to grasp, especially if the writer is a smaller and less popular one who doesnt get a lot of traffic in the first place

i think thats all. just be nice and considered to everyone, reblog peoples works, this post with others add ons and so forth. and if i find anyone talking shit here or at other writers for something they share, you'll be blocked and im probably taking your kneecaps. be fucking nice. we are all struggling here and we need to stick together

happy sharing and commenting 💜💜

[flowercrowngods]

making a real post for @rvspecter pls bear with me

anyway harvey hurt fic where after mike is busted and given a second chance at life (or a third, really) and pearson specter litt seizes the chance to instate a pro bono department mike is heading because he wants to get it right this time and harvey will do just about anything to keep him, these two men finally mention this Thing between them and decide to give it a try. and it’s good. it’s fragile and it’s tentative and it’s gentle and it’s the same as it’s always been but with more tenderness, more honesty, more vulnerability (and more sex of course) and it’s good. against all odds, it’s so good.

but then one day, long after hours, donna approaches harvey in his office and her eyes are shining, but it’s not a glow harvey is used to — he never wants to get used to donna’s eyes filled with tears so he asks her what’s wrong, but he’s not ready for the answer. because she tells him she can’t work for him anymore. she tells him she’s leaving him — to work for louis at first, maybe to quit altogether. the fact do the matter is she can’t be the Donna to his Harvey anymore because she’s in love with him and she thought she had it under control but she doesn’t, okay, she doesn’t and it hurts and she wants to be happy for him and mike because they’re so good but all this time she’d never thought that harvey would ever find someone real, and now that he has, well. she can’t pretend anymore that it doesn’t tear her up inside and she doesn’t want to put that on any of them so she’s doing the mature thing and leaving. to heal. to get over him. to come back stronger.

and she’s so, so sorry.

they listen to gordon one last time, they toast to thirteen years one last time — her words, not his, but they drive a knife into his heart nonetheless because harvey doesn’t do one last-anything and yet here sits his best friend and asks for one last night together and who is he but to give her everything she wants and more. she’s his donna — still, tonight; one last night. she is.

he doesn’t tell mike that night. couldn’t, even if he wanted to; because he doesn’t have the words. but in the secure hold of mike’s arms, he says “donna won’t be working for me anymore, starting tomorrow.” and he doesn’t mention how that means that donna went to jessica and louis first, he doesn’t mention that he was the last to know, he doesn’t explain how he wasn’t given a chance to fix this — not this time. “donna quit?” mike asks, and harvey swallows, shakes his head, shrugs. “just me,” he says. “just me.” and when mike pulls him closer and holds him tighter and tells him “i’m so sorry, harvey,” it’s the first i’m sorry that night that he believes.

unfortunately, sorry never fixed anything.

especially when soon after, mike finds out just why donna left. and he gets all up in his head about it, he allows himself to spiral because he’s so ready to succumb to tunnel vision and obsessing over solutions to problems that aren’t his to fix. and so he tells harvey that he can’t be the thing that comes between him and donna. they’re soulmates after all, mike can’t bear to be the one to sever their bond. harvey doesn’t understand. he’s the one who’s supposed to lose his mind over having lost his best friend and pretend like everything is okay, what right does mike have to make that about himself, to take it upon himself to fix everything when harvey’s the fixer, harvey is the one who solves problems and protects people. but mike won’t hear any of that and tells harvey that he can’t do it like this if it means hurting donna because she’s his best friend, too, and he wants to get it right this time. he doesn’t want to build this new life on decisions that hurt his people — not again. he’s hurt enough people, he can’t keep doing it.

harvey wants to ask him why he’s always so ready to protect everyone at his expense. isn’t this thing between them, their relationship, isn’t it meant to stop them from hurting each other? why is it okay to hurt harvey, but not to hurt donna?

he doesn’t ask any of that, only tells him that they’re not in high school, and that they’re either doing this or not, but he refuses to base their relationship on whether or not his best friend is okay with seeing him happy or not. “you’re either in this with me, mike, or you’re out. that hasn’t changed, and it won’t, because donna will get over it and everything will be back to normal before you know it.”

“you don’t know that.”

“yes i do, because we’re grown-ups and we get over things.”

famous last words, it turns out, because mike just slowly shakes his head, agonising over this and not thinking, clearly not thinking when he says, “i’m sorry, harvey. i can’t to this; not like this.”

and all he can do is watch mike’s back as he all but runs from him, dragging his heart behind him, through the dirt, uncaring as bits and pieces of it chip off with every step mike takes, with every second that passes and allows the words i can’t and i’m sorry, harvey echo in the hollow of his chest.

we’re grown-ups. we get over things. well, tough fucking luck.

and this is how harvey loses the two most important people in his life in the matter of a week. before he knows it, he’s alone, left to fend for himself and hollowed out. his walls are broken down, deconstructed piece by piece by carefully, gentle hands to reveal what’s underneath — only for the hands to retreat, letting in the icy cold and accepting what’s inside to wither and die.

there’s a reason harvey specter makes his own luck; the universe isn’t very forthcoming otherwise. a fact that is proven when he finds a stranger outside his building when all he wants is to curl up and breathe through the cracks of his broken hearts that have pierced his lungs, they must have, surely they must have, because he can’t breathe. and he doesn’t learn how to breathe again when the woman — a kid, really, merely twenty-five — reveals that she’s his half sister. because it turns out the reason lily specter was so ready to up and leave all those years ago; the reason she didn’t fight for her family and instead blamed it all on harvey, was because she was pregnant. and she lied about it — for twenty-six years.

amelia selene specter is the little sister harvey has always wished for — but cancer is a curse that rests on the specter family, and while marcus got lucky twice, selene isn’t. she didn’t have the money for medical resources, and it’s eating harvey alive that he didn’t know, that there was no way for him to help her and that there’s no way now.

but there is. because selene has two kids, seven and four, and she needs his help because they can’t get lost in the system, they can’t live with total strangers or be separated because the system doesn’t actually care about children, they only care about not feeling guilty. and she won’t ask lily. these two angels must be kept from her at all costs because she ruined two families already, she won’t ruin this one.

and harvey is obsessed with the thought of more family, he needs to take care of and be there for someone and he’s ready to take on the world to protect his niece and nephew — but he’s not warm, he’s not available, he’s not even at home most of the time, nor is his place suitable for kids.

he agrees to take them in and find a solution though. he promises selene that he’ll be there for them. he’ll always be there. and when he gets to meet them — a few days before his sister dies way too young, way too alive for something like death to not rip him apart entirely — he gets attached instantly and vows to himself and to selene that nothing will happen to them as long as he’s there.

even though harvey just lost his family — the one he chose, the one he was born into, and the one he never got to meet. even though harvey’s entire world was deconstructed with no one around to put it back together. even though he doesn’t know how, because evidently he got it wrong every single time, harvey gets to build a new family with these kids. and though it tears him up inside, it heals something inside him too — and sometimes they balance each other out, and he can breathe again for just a little while as he reads to charlotte because she’s feisty and afraid of nightmares and not listening when he says she’ll be tired in the morning because “i’m tired in the morning anyway, but now i wanna read” and he trades her going to bed for a bedtime story, and she falls asleep with her face pressed into his side.

it’s so frail, though, so fragile, this little family, and he knows what it’s like when everything breaks. he knows what it’s like to lose one’s family — over and over and over again. and he’s terrified that he’s building himself back up the wrong way. he’s terrified because there’s no one keeping him together but both his hands are occupied holding these children that cry for their mama.

he’s terrified because he’s not supposed to be doing this alone. but everyone else has made their choice and he, as always, is just there to bear the consequences and try to turn it into a win.

one day, he will. he has to. and one day, he’s not alone anymore.

[titanofthedepths]

I was talking about this on a call the other day but one of my favorite things about Sea of Thieves is that the characters are allowed to be ugly and so wildly diverse. Even the skeletons are diverse and have compelling and fun designs.

Note that when I say ugly I don’t mean that as a bad thing - I’m a firm believer that ugly doesn’t have to be a bad word, just the same as fat doesn’t have to be. Nobody’s perfect and that’s beautiful etc etc, when I say ugly I mean “not conventionally attractive” and it’s something I wholeheartedly appreciate

Like. Player pirates are randomly generated, which can be frustrating but at the end of the day it’s refreshing to not be able to sit and put together the perfect pirate. There will always be little scars or nicks or features you didn’t choose to place there, but they’re your pirates’ features. Just a couple days ago I realized my pirate has a snake bite on her cheek, and I LOVE that it’s there, though I never would have considered it for her had I been given the option to build her from scratch.

The NPCs, too, are diverse, and allowed to be flawed, and ugly. With their crooked or missing teeth and imperfect proportions and scars and asymmetrical faces - Rare could have very easily chosen to make every last NPC a perfectly pretty face fit for a magazine, and they chose not to. It makes the characters feel a little more real, more like they’re people - I can’t tell you how often I sit and examine the models of NPCs to look at every little detail and just appreciate how imperfect they are.

And like previously stated - and perhaps the thing I appreciate the most - even the skeleton characters are widely varied. Rathbone moves with a hunched posture that hides the fact his frame is fairly small, Grimm is tall and wide in that way that Sea of Thieves builds their fat characters, one of Chi’s horns is growing from her eye socket and she’s lankier than Ruth’s sturdy frame, Horatio has arms that are just a little too long, so on and so forth.

Just… Sure, I don’t by any means love Rare as a company, but the character design we see in Sea of Thieves is some of the best I’ve ever seen. I have a lot of love for this pirate game and the amount of love the design team put into every single character they offer us

[bumblingbabooshka]

Thinking about Vulcans prizing “calm” over “happiness”. 

Like how humans look back on their childhood and remember how happy it was - joyful days spent running around in the sun, getting into a bit of trouble, laughing with peers and family - that’s how they know it was a good one. Meanwhile Vulcans might look back on their childhood and remember how peaceful it was. Quiet days spent studying, the warm glow of candlelit lessons in caves, getting along smoothly with ones peers - that’s how they know it was a good one. Humans typically chose their friends and romantic partners based on if this person makes them feel happy above all. The question of “Do you like being with them?” is interpreted to mean “Does being with them make you feel happy?” But since Vulcans don’t experience (or strive for) happiness there would have to be some other parameter. So I was thinking about like, what is a good relationship to a Vulcan? There’s obviously a big emphasis on ‘togetherness’ in Vulcan unions. The Pon Farr ritual Tuvok does with his [hologram] wife involves them committing to becoming “Two bodies one mind” and it’s stated that they give and receive from each other all that they are. There’s also of course the iconic “Never and always touching and touched”. This is all (as was said during T’Pol & Koss’ wedding) “The Vulcan heart, the Vulcan soul, this is our way.” Vulcans are also (ENT) expected to live together for at least a year after being married - I imagine so that they can bond with and get to know one another. In SNW T’Pring wants for Spock to honor the commitments he makes to her so in that case T’Pring values Spock keeping his word to her and placing her above other things. I see a bit of Tuvok in that, where he prizes his commitment to T’Pel over anything else to the point where he’d nearly rather die than break it: (Even though he eventually agrees to having sex with a hologram it MUST be of his wife and he lets Tom/The Audience know that he will NOT be making a habit of it. There’s no ironclad logical reason for him to react this way as a hologram is not a person but his commitment to T’Pel seems to take precedence and I believe that’s his reasoning. His bond with T’Pel is logical, sustaining and important to him and he’s loath to break it over some bodily need. some desire that will pass even if it kills him.) <- By this way of thinking, betraying T’Pel would be the emotional choice while remaining loyal to her is remaining loyal to his logical self. A strong emphasis on loyalty to one’s mate seems to be a common Vulcan trait. In the beginning this seems to be rooted in tradition but later on its probably assumed that the couple will be loyal to one another out of some sort of actual connection between two people as opposed to pure obligation. In ENT T’Pol says that a certain degree of “affection” is eventually expected to happen within a marriage (though the way she says it makes me think this doesn’t always occur and isn’t necessarily The Goal) and her mother says that she and her husband developed a “deep connection” to one another. All this makes me think that a connection and a sense of ‘togetherness’ or ‘compatibility’ would also be prized over more emotional things like a passion for one another. It’s a partnership above all and that would be prized over a romantic union.  It makes me think of Vulcans’ roots in violence and war. Maybe this commitment to a steady togetherness, two people who don’t know each other being able to work together so seamlessly they nearly become one, is a way to show they’ve moved beyond that despite the pon farr remaining. Vulcans are a naturally very emotional species. Someone who incites that would probably not be seen as someone you should spend your time with. Someone who makes your heart pound, sets you ablaze, fills you with passion - that sounds like a bad Vulcan time v_v  Tuvok says as much when he talks about how he was struck with “shon-ha’lock”. Humans wouldn’t see anything wrong with having a crush on someone (and indeed in that episode Tom only comes to the conclusion that it’s a shame Tuvok couldn’t act on these emotions) but it’s obvious that even a teenaged crush when uncontrolled can become a very big problem to a Vulcan. In one of the Star Trek Novels Tuvok even stops being friends with and talking to a girl because she tearfully admits she has feelings for him and he sees that her feelings for him cause her pain.  Instead of thinking “Oh, she really likes me, good! We’re close friends so maybe we can make this work.” or even “I don’t like her romantically but since we’re close friends we can work through it.”  Tuvok thinks “Oh, she really likes me. That must be causing her to become very emotional and I can see she’s clearly upset. I’ll remove myself from her life so my presence doesn’t incite those emotions anymore.” And while him flat out just cutting himself out of her life might seem weird and kind of cruel and a frankly hilarious reaction to someone confessing their love to you - I also think it’s something he thought of as a kindness. If his presence harms her (stirs up emotions in her) then he will remove himself to keep from harming her. Along that vein, calmness or the absence of strong emotions would be a good relationship and one worth staying in. Not that there can’t be any emotions (Tuvok and T’Les obviously care[d] deeply for their respective spouses) but that they must be controllable and able to be cast aside in the face of logic.  I also think that “knowing” the other person would be considered very important (after marriage of course). If you’re to operate as a partnership, a team, and especially if you’re both telepaths you should be able to know your spouse pretty damn well. I see T’Pring attempt to do this in SNW where she is constantly fighting to get to know Spock which Spock self-consciously discourages since he’s been told/shown that his human side is unappealing to Vulcans.  But yeah man idk...just picturing a Vulcan and a human talking for hours...walking along the beach...sleeping side by side...getting to know one another...and at the end of it all one says “You make me feel happy” and the other says “Your presence calms me” and it means, essentially, the same thing.

[thedrotter]

i just randomly felt like doing a render since i havent done those frequently at all this year www and who else would it be of if not yuu

[sweetandglovelyart]

Knightfall in Dream Land - Page 6

Meta Knight begins his long fall to Popstar’s surface and passes by some familiar faces on the way down.

[god-syndicate-if]

so, that ask about an Ares with natural fangs and the mention of body modifications not sticking around long for gods has had me thinking, sorry if you already answered something similar to this, i tried to look but didnt find anything!

how does being trans work for Ares? specially in terms of surgery! i tend to play transmasc (and occasionally transfem) MCs whenever possible, so im just very curious how the whole divine powers thing can affect that? also, tattoos! and piercings!

So this isn't just for trans stuff, I'll also just explain the healing a bit more here too.

Since Riley is trans, they'll specifically talk about this if your Ares is trans too. But for gods, being trans is a lot more difficult in general. Surgeries are the only thing that humans can do that are permanent and even then if something is added to you in a surgery (any surgery like breast augmentation, tooth fillings, even more uncommon ones like horn implants) your body will naturally just get rid of it. Over the course of a few years your body just breaks it down and works it out in extremely small quantities. Sometimes this can be painful, sometimes you wont even notice until its gone.

That being said there are other gods who can assist with stuff like that. At this moment your Ares hasn't been alive long enough to really notice how quick their body heals and metabolizes things. At most they'd just notice that they'd need a higher dosage of hormones than normal humans would need.

As for tattoos and piercings and what not, piercings will heal fully within a few hours if you've had them a long time, or literally just a few minutes if you're brand new. and tattoos fade after a few months and fully disappear after a few years.

Losing a limb is also permanent. Teeth will grow back. but if your arm is cut off it stays off. And after your body has fully healed you could have more permanent chronic pains. Being a god isn't a "always come back to tip top shape" button. Though you're far more durable than normal humans.

[xx-psych0-rabbit-xx]

ive been thinking about the KSA cult quite a bit lately and yk, while maybe this isnt how youre intended to interpret things, i find seeing the situation was hyness could have chosen between just dropping the "awaken the dark lord" plan because the heart was slowly corrupting him into insanity, and just continue living with the girls he raised, or go through with it even if it means losing himself and risking their safety, and he ultimately prioritized his own goals of revenge above his daughters is very fascinating, specially considering star allies themes of friendship and bonds, its already there with his present mistreatment of them in comparison to kirbys neverending love for his friends, but giving him far more responsibility in what he did because he always chose his own goals before the girls.oh man do i love narrative contrasts.

[bacchuschucklefuck]

the never stop blowing up vhs is where cute twinks go to get harmed