Overwhelmed, to say the least
"A Rough Sketch" has hit 10,000 reads this morning 😩😩 To everyone who has stuck with me through the 220,000 words this now sits at, or if you've just read one chapter, THANK YOU. You've made my absolute year and it's only June. I very nearly didn't publish this story, but I am so glad I did ❤
If you want to check it out, or any of my other Pedro characters work, my A03 profile is here 💖
Thank you again you lovely bunch of people 💕🥃
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🔥 (Beast-man-bastard) Grabs Robin, sits down, sits Robin in his lap and smiles.
Send 🔥 to join my muse near the fireplace.
"---!!! AH-" Robin gasped loudly when strong arms wrapped around his small frame, bringing him close with such warmth and affection. He was plopped down into Sett's lap and couldn't hold back the flustered, slightly wobbly laugh that left his mouth. The mage leaned back happily against Sett's chest, fitting under his chin like a perfect puzzle piece. Small hands wrapped around his arm and he peeked up to the brawler, "I feel as if I haven't seen you in days, but I suppose that we've both been so busy...Mmm..." And he melted back into the vastayan, grateful for this moment.
@beast-man-bastard
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decided in my not-as-edgy-as-it-was-in-high-school-but-still-containing-strong-self-indulgent-levels-of-angst pokemon y fanfic that sycamore would be yvonne’s father and spontaneously needed to write some dialogue about it and i’m. not alright about it
(context: sometime post-ultimate weapon activation yvonne gets Knocked The Fuck Out and is in the *N voice* hospital. there’s lots of gaps in the dialogue but it’s roughly all part of the same scene, of yvonne first waking up and being lucid enough to talk with sycamore at her bedside. he was aware she is daughter, but she did not know for sure until this moment)
-----------------------
“I’m sorry, je suis tellement désolé, j'aurais dû faire plus,” he croaked, “should have – worked harder to keep him away from you, to distract him, to – to – it’s my, you’re my–”
-
“Papa,” she said.
Sycamore’s head jerked up, eyes wide as he met her gaze; his jaw trembled.
“Ma fille,” her father whispered.
-
Yvonne swallowed roughly, pushing down the half formed flickers of thoughts that coolly said I’m your daughter, you should’ve worked harder to keep me safe, keep him from–
“Let’s talk about something nicer.”
-
“Ah, now, let’s see – your mother’s nose, of course, her hair, but your skin,” he gestured to the patches on her arms, “my family, on my mother’s side, has a history of children being, ah, c'est quoi le mot, quand on a du – when one has vitiligo. I have a, ah, family photo album back in my apartment – when we leave here, or perhaps if I am kicked out at some point, I shall retrieve it and show you! If you are agreeable, of course,” he added on, looking at her as if he held bated breath.
She got her vitiligo from her grandmother’s side of the family. “I’d like that,” she said softly, squeezing his fingers.
A smile broke through on his face, like sunbeams flickering through rainclouds. “Merveilleux, merveilleux … ah, now, here,” he said, nodding to where they held hands, “your fingers are like my grandmother’s on my father’s side – you see where the knuckle juts out? She had the same; in the house you and your mother live in, it was there they lived, and she had a piano in the sitting room that we would always play together when we visited, I would watch her fingers as she played…”
And it was like that for awhile; Sycamore (her father, her father thrummed a part of her mind) pointed out what he’d noticed about her that reminded him of his – their – family, from the way her eyebrows curved to how she gestured, a twirl of the wrist that he himself did (and trained himself out of after accidentally hitting someone offhand one too many times), the way they saw faces in the bumpers and headlights of taxis until her eyes grew dry and tired, and closed them to listen to him recall a story from his childhood about a Lillipup and an Eevee …
… And didn’t realize she’d fallen asleep until she was roused by voices speaking lowly, and the feeling of someone rubbing their thumb across her hand.
-
“Ma fille,” he said softly. “Some of your friends are here – Shauna, Tierno, Trevor. Do you want to see them?”
Shauna. The last time Yvonne had seen them, they’d been desperately, determinedly fighting off Flare grunts. She blinked the sleep from her eyes and nodded, trying to prop herself up on the pillows, “Yes. Please.”
“Bien sûr. Tiens, laisse-moi t'aider,” he said, standing to adjust the cushions behind her and glancing in the direction of the doorway as he did, nodding, and then there was a small group rushing to see her – she hadn’t noticed they were lingering right there – Shauna promptly sitting on the other side of the bed and latching onto Yvonne’s other hand, eyes wide.
-
“I mean, Professor Sycamore should be concerned about her,” Trevor said indignantly. “Yvonne was in danger, and one of his star pupils in studying mega evolution-!”
“I thought we were going to be sensitive,” Shauna mumbled under her breath, lightly kicking Trevor’s chair leg.
-
“He’s my father,” she said.
Shauna’s jaw dropped, Tierno blinked, Trevor stared.
“He’s what,” Shauna gasped, drawing out the word, and Yvonne could already see the synapses firing in her brain as her leg began to bounce. “Your father? How long have you known? Why didn’t you tell me?!”
“I didn’t know for sure!” she exclaimed, the sheer Shauna-ness of, well, Shauna, easing some of the knot in her chest. “I only received confirmation a few … hours ago?”
Yvonne wasn’t actually sure of how long she’d nodded off. Not too long, since he’d still been in the position when she’d woken up that she last remembered. “I’ve suspected for a bit – you remember when he gave me Chell and her mega stone? He said he couldn’t bear to keep her from me, since she was so fond of me; she did like me, but I thought it strange, I didn’t think her so attached to me that leaving her behind would make her so sad. Looking back on it, I just think…”
“… You’re his daughter, and he wanted to give you something.” Tierno nodded, leaning back in his chair as Trevor resettled into his side.
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hello! i just got done reading your fic sticker stars and i just wanted to say i absolutely adore how you write taako! that’s prime taako to me! he absolutely collects kooky shirts and wears the most over the top horrendously ugly clothes that he manages to pull off through pure panache! also i was so sad when i realized your lyrics weren’t actual songs bc they really truly fuck anyway i hope you’re having a good day/night/afternoon/morning whatever fucking time it happens to be when you read this
thank you so much!!!! i really appreciate this, i adore sticker stars and im glad you got to love it too!! i have so many feelings about taako i could write thousands more words on it but suffice it to say: i love that weirdo
also: eeee im glad, i got pretty nervous about sharing lyrics, it's such a wild intersection of poetry and playtime. you gotta follow rules. but also don't. requires a lot of thinking to make it feel easy, you know?
im holding this close to my heart, i needed a boost today
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Send📱for a voicemail my muse left yours.
Send 🍺 for my muses drunk reaction around yours.
Send 🎼 for a song that reminds me of our muses.
Send 😙 for my muse’s reaction to yours being super affectionate.
-Tarhos and Haru
RELATIONSHIP BUILDING
═══ MODERN VERSE ═══
Send📱for a voicemail my muse left yours.
--- "....Shit, uh...I'm not really--Fuck. I was sort of hoping you wouldn't answer, but now I'm sort of screwed. Everything is fine, I just--" a pause, before a long winded sigh leaves his lips, "Come over tonight? I miss you. Okay, call me back--bye."
Send 🍺 for my muses drunk reaction around yours.
---His cheeks felt on fire as they sat in the darkness of Tarhos' porch, a few glasses of wine and cans of beer later with only the moonlight to frame their forms. He really had no idea how he had kept up with the vet, the man was a fucking tank but... crap... Haru knew he was drunk, he could feel it when he turned his head and his vision lagged behind whatever he was trying to process infront of him. Not only that, but he knew he was thinking some stupid sentimental shit. Get the hell out of the city, live a normal little life in a normal little house with Bonnie and...Would he come with him..? No. Stupid question, crap. "Hey, Tar, did I ever tell you how damn pretty you are?"
Send 🎼 for a song that reminds me of our muses.
Predator and Prey by Griffin Puatu ft. Jonah Scott
Raised for death and locked away
Awaits the wretch without a name
Saved by grace the fathers hand
Wear thy face and guide my plan
Brace yourself the world awaits
A face that fosters fear and hate
The taste of flesh and love forlorn
With bated breath a beast is born
And no one cares to know
A place where no one dares to go
Mmm adorned in red and grey
The predator and prey
In A Week by Hozier
We lay here for years or for hours
Your hand in my hand
So still and discreet
So long we become the flowers
We'd feed well the land
And worry the sheepAnd they'd find us in a week
When the cattle show fear
After the insects have made their claim
After the foxes have known our taste
I'd be home with you
Send 😙 for my muse’s reaction to yours being super affectionate.
---Scruffy kisses placed upon his neck brought a calm smile to his features, his dark eyes closing as he tilted his head to the side as his long hair was brushed away with care, opening up more of his soft skin. A strong arm slithered around his waist as bated breath fluttered from soft lips, Haru's grip on the spatula loosened, half-hearted in his desire to finish his cooking--it could wait, couldn't it? Haru was quick to lower the heat and place his utensil down, grin wide whilst he turned within Tarhos' embrace, irises dark as the painted night sky connecting with the veteran's gaze, "What Tar? Couldn't wait five more minutes for me to finish our eggs?"
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