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"That's dirty."
"this is one night only, don't get any ideas"
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and the world moves in slow-mo
straight to my head
like the first cigarette of the day
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Send me "that’s dirty" and I will generate a number for what my muse will say to yours.
Sexual Sunday NSFW special, they’re all suggestive, but don’t have to be responded to in a NSFW manner.
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Send me a “⊙﹏⊙” if you’ve been wanting to RP with me but are too shy to ask or start.
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blankly, he stated, "easy enough. i don't
care to see your ugly mug anyways." would this be their
last meeting? not even he knew... it would feel weird not
seeing the old curmudgeon again, but also a huge relief.
because a wave of awful memories came with seeing his face.
fingers traced over one of his poké balls, the one containing
his bisharp. maybe he could put the man out of his misery.
no, that would be doing him a kindness he did not deserve.
"I don’t ask for friendship or even association," came his reply, equally cold, even if its intent was betrayed by that small tint of weariness that came with it. His brow furrowed as he let out a deep breath, the hot air slowly whooshing out of him.
"All I ask is to live the rest of my life without trouble." Exactly why he would say such a thing was beyond him. Just another sentence he didn’t mean to say, an occurrence that only grew more and more common as the days went by, becoming weeks, months, years. Whether he was losing his grip on an active mind or losing his ability to care what he said was beyond his own knowledge, and just another thing to not care about. The end result would only remain the same.
"It’s too much to ask for most people."
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"it's kinda hard to look away from
an ugly face. and i only complain if there's some-
thing worth complaining about."
"Then why are ya? Come on, is complainin’ all ya do or somethin’?"
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"wow, who woulda thunk you'd ever say
that? the needle was pocketed, but felt like a dead weight.
he turned back around to face ghetsis. this meeting was
surprisingly civil, what would people think...
with a scowl, he cast his gaze aside.
"don't think we're going to be friends just because i'm not ripp-
ing out your hair anymore," he stated coldly. "i don't want or
need friends or allies besides my pokémon."
"I can see as much." The rare agreement between the two: that Ghetsis would undoubtedly lose in a fistfight. As Ghetsis grew weary with age, the blue-haired brat grew more fit, his body seeming to be quite near its prime.
"But at this point, I don’t want that.” Why say that? Why admit to being tired? Perfection doesn’t—
S H U T U P .
Even then, he paid no mind to Hugh turning his back. The sigh, the scratching, it could easily have been something he needed to treat an unstable, rage-infested mind. It wouldn’t surprise him.
"More fighting would only drag on a battle that ended a long time ago." A sigh escaped him, though it was drowned out by his own thoughts protesting, screaming at him to leave the peasant where he stood.
"It tires me out. I’m sick of being tired."
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"yeah, i do. it's ugly and i don't like looking at it."
"I ain’t gotta go the fuck anywhere. An’ do ya got a problem with ma face? ‘Cuase I can do what I want with my hair."
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"what did i just say? fuck off--and
shave that awful goatee, while you're at it."
"Oh look, now he’s got a attitude an’ language problem. Ain’t that fuckin’ fantastic?"
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"things happen," came the simple statement.
he seemed to shiver, scratching at his arm through his sleeve.
deep down, maybe he still did want revenge. after what they did
to liepard, what liepard did to his sister...
"i could probably kick your ass now, though." anyone could see
that he wasn't small and skinny like he used to be. hugh snorted,
the scratching intensifying. then he let out a soft, "fuck," before
whirling around so his back was to ghetsis.
a needle filled with some sort of liquid was pulled out of his pocket
and when he rolled up his sleeve, it was injected into his (rather
bruised up) arm. instantly, he sighed in relief, tilting his head back.
Ghetsis remained still, meeting Hugh’s gaze without a word. He simply let detail after detail trickle in. The boy had matured. He’d moved on. He’s moved on. The thought was alien to Ghetsis as it bounced off of every wall it hit, echoing noisily throughout his mind.
"It’s a surprising relief to hear that from you, boy. You were growing to be quite an annoyance."
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"listen, buddy, i don't want to have a conversation
with you. i'm busy. that means you should fuck off."
"Thanks man. Who’d ‘ave thought it’d get so hard just to start a conversation with a random guy. What’s the would comin’ ta?"
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fingers ran over the old scar across
the bridge of his nose, and he gave another frown. "i've
grown up." the beard on his face proved that. "i have other
things to worry about." the look in his eyes--well, there was
none, they were absolutely blank, devoid of emotion. he
seemed to stare straight through ghetsis.
Did the Sage’s ears deceive him? The brat had finally let go of his self-consuming rage? One could only hope.
"I can only hope you don’t. Our last meetings went anything but well.”
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"not my fault people like you keep bothering me."
"Wow. Someone ain’t in a good mood today."
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"what the hell are you talking about, old man?
i don't have time for you anymore."
'And to think that I hoped to be rid of that n u i s a n c e.’
”Come to exact yet another ill-fated attempt at revenge, I assume?”
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"Because of that damn thing-- because of it-- I'm nothing but a shell that feels nothing but rage." All emotions sucked out of him in an instant, leaving only those that were negative. Leaving him more unhappy than he already had been. He had no intention of harming Mesprit, but damn did he want what was taken from him back.
Samurott clambered onto the island's shore, and Hugh hopped off. His clothes were soaking wet, but he could hair less. His hair was beginning to dry, puffing out like a Qwilfish all around his head. Red eyes blazed like fire. No way in hell was he letting this girl get in his way.
"Y--" He stopped. There was the sound. The sound of water dripping, the slightest gust of wind, and suddenly over the surface of the water a figure began to form. A small figure, that began to move before it could completely manifest itself.
It twirled around Dawn and her Togekiss at first, then around Hugh, who watched it in a daze. This was all too familiar. A tiny hand reached out, patting the man on the forehead, and suddenly he was doubled over, scrabbling at his head as Mesprit disappeared completely from sight.
A rush of emotion flooded over him, only to leave as soon as it came. Then all he felt was hollowness. Stiffly, he stood up, fingers trembling. Samurott nosed his way against his trainer's side, trying to provide some comfort.
hell of a homecoming ;; dawn & hugh
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