#//wow omg an ask for me!?

[zichqec]

pardon! what is a ghost?

Thanks for asking! They're a type of desktop toy that can take many forms! Typically it is a character or set of characters that appear on your desktop, and will say things to you every couple of minutes. Some of them have hidden content to unlock, some of them have little functions they can do like emptying your recycle bin, some have more intricate features like music players and minigames, and some just have a lot of idle dialogue!

They originate from Japan, but anyone can make one of anything and in any language! There's a lot of variety out there.

If you want to learn more about them, there's a good video with an overview here:

We also have a whole wiki dedicated to English ghosts, and you can find all of my personal creations over on my website! I love these things a lot, and I've made several of them. Here's some previews to give you an idea.

It's a lot of fun! If any of that sounds interesting to you, I highly recommend checking it out. We're kind of a niche little community, but I think we have something really special if it's what strikes your fancy.

[cobaltfluff]

a few more heartsteel crossover doodles.. this time of the Oh They're Boyfriends variety :3c

[inthehouseoffinwe]

Aite, female character and general inclusivity rant incoming. Hate it and want to make a post? Sure. But give me the respect I gave those who inspired this and don’t tag me in it:

People immediately bringing the ‘female character’ argument into things drives me insane. Like we know she’s a female character, but trust me, that’s got very little to do with why people dislike her.

Are some people misogynistic? Absolutely!

Are most people misogynistic? No.

When we talk about Galadriel, and Luthien, and Elwing, and Aredhel, and Nimloth, and Melian, and Nerdanel, and Ahsoka, and Padme, and *insert literally any female character from any fandom here*, being female has nothing to do with it. It barely crosses our minds.

So for the love of all that is good, stop bringing ‘but she’s a female character! Anyone who sees her as anything but perfect, or thinks the male characters made better choices than her is obviously horrible and misogynistic and would never do this to a man :(‘ Into arguments.

I don’t care how few there are in the work. You can explain why you like her without blaming people for hating on the fact she’s female when 95% don’t. There are very literally hundreds of other reasons people interpret fictional events which portray the fem char negatively.

Especially in work like the Silm which is written by a canonical in-universe historian with basic backstory. We have every right to see him as unreliable and play with what that could mean. Doesn’t make it misogynistic if we want to see female characters as more shifty than they’re outwardly portrayed. Many of us often do the same with male characters, and even if we don’t, you have no right to judge someone so harshly when you barely know a thing about them outside an online persona. 99.9% of people don’t even consider male vs female when they write these things. And it’s not because of some weird subconscious misogyny either.

This is mainly aimed at those who bring this up over. And over. And over again in some weird attempt at guilt tripping people into ‘liking’ characters.

On the topic of things people do that make no sense, if characters are stated as being white, and an artist draws them all white. You have no right to say they’re being racist or whatever else you want to come up with.

Nor do you have the right to slander anyone who casually points out the character is white if others draw them as anything else. If we can call out whitewashing, we can talk about the opposite too. As long as the person isn’t being outright rude, have a conversation.

And don’t get me started on tagging pieces of fanart and fics specifically created platonic with a ship. Like the work? Great! Now respect the intentions of the person who created it.

No one in a fandom space, especially artists and writers, owes inclusivity of any kind when running off canon source material. You want to blame someone for a boring cast, blame the author! But even in general? You don’t get to force or guilt others to create content - original work included - that fits your ideal.

Yes I’m a writer and artist of original and fan content. Yes I’ve experienced all of these directly or indirectly.

Sincerely, a young brown woman tired of all the double standards.

[toxintouch]

yk how in veres likes on his character sheet it says he like cooking (badly)…… WHY HAS NO ONE DONE A FIC ABOUT THAT YET‼️⁉️⁉️ THAT SHOULD NOTTT BE A WASTED OPPORTUNITY. i’m not even joking im ab to send this to so many people because i can’t let this go to waste 😞

Here u are anon!  For the record, you are completely free to send this prompt around wherever you’d like!  It was such a fun idea, I’d love to see more takes on it. ^^

Warnings: Vere talking Innuendos? Innuendos.  So many, and I don’t guarantee that they are funny lol.  Just a general silly vibe and imo: absolutely  tooth rotting fluff.

‧₊˚ ⋅ 𓐐𓎩 ‧₊˚ ⋅SOUS CHEF ‧₊˚♡₊˚

You find yourself wandering through Lowtown during the lunch hour, trying to decide what sounds like a good meal.

Your mouth waters at the scents being carried on the breeze, a plethora of pleasant aromas wafting out of the eateries nestled inside the Amaryllis District, so fragrant that you can smell them all the way down on the bustling streets of Lowtown as long as you stay downwind.

However, if there’s one nice thing about knowing Leander it's that you also know you don’t have to go that far (or spend that much) for a delicious lunch. 

Near enough to the Wet Wick, there’s a series of side streets that make up an eclectic amalgamation of Lowtown and the Amaryllis District, and in it: a small and inconspicuous eatery.  The menu changes often, though you aren’t sure if that’s out of innovation or necessity, but the food is always filling and reasonably priced.

You follow the winding streets, getting lost for a brief moment before correcting your course, traveling until you see colorful chipped girih tiles and wide, clean windows.  You let yourself into the shop, the now familiar sound of hinges in need of an oiling welcoming you.  

There’s an assortment of goods on display–jars of honey and spiced fruit and loaves of braided bread with seeds–all kept safely locked away beneath an enchanted pane of glass.

Looking around, though, you don’t see anyone selling said fantastic wares.

You call out, expecting the shop keep or her wife to come running but instead you hear…silence.

Followed by a loud metallic clatter.

You freeze, unsure what to do, what the threat is–if there’s even a threat?–but before you can make up your mind, you’re greeted by a most unexpected sight.

Vere comes out of the kitchen area, his hair swept into an artfully stunning up-do that reveals the long line of his neck and clavicle, blemished only by the heavy collar locked around his throat. 

He’s wearing a weighty linen apron over his clothing, presumably to protect his outfit, though–his long gossamer sleeves are completely discordant with the notion, making you think that maybe the apron is more of an aesthetic choice.

“What’s this–?  A mouse?  In my kitchen?” Vere asks playfully as you continue to stare, dumbfounded.  He wields a spatula in his hand like a weapon–swatching it into his off-hand like a riding crop with a decisive snap.

“Where is–?”

“–The shop keep?  Wherever she pleases–the shop’s closed on Mondays.”

(You really don’t like the way he’s watching you…  Or the way he keeps inching closer…)

You take a step backwards, your eyes never leaving his.  “Oh,” you say, bandaged hands reaching blindly behind you.  “I didn’t realize.  The door was unlocked, so…”  You trail off.

You find the doorknob at last.  You attempt to turn it only to find that it won’t budge.

“Was it?”

Vere saunters up to you, tail swaying behind him.  You manage to tear your eyes away from his predator stare to search for possible exits, though you know for a fact you won’t be fast enough.   You look back and he’s already in your space, crowding you against the entryway.

(He smells really good, actually.  Like leather and spice and the subtle cling of perfume and incense.  And beneath that, something–earthy–animalistic, but in a way that’s intoxicating as opposed to unpleasant.)

“I was just about to make myself a snack–how nice that a snack came to me.”

“Stop playing around.” You try to steel yourself and inject the perfect amount of scolding into your voice while combating his heated stare.  “I know you’re just fucking with me to try and get a reaction; you and I both know you’re not going to eat me.” 

If he was, he would have done it by now.  Sometime within the weeks you’ve known him.  …Probably. 

Unless he just likes to play with his food.

“I didn’t realize you knew me so well,”  he says, looking amused.  “Perhaps I didn’t plan to, but now I simply can’t resist.  You look so absolutely delectable, how could I possibly contain myself?”

You don’t get the chance to reply.  Vere’s countenance changes suddenly–you watch his ears flatten a second before you hear the screaming whistle of a teapot.  His ears twitch in annoyance at the sound, his perfectly sculpted face showing a sour sneer.  He gives you a sideways glance, calculating.

“Then again.  I find myself in need of a sous chef.  Congratulations on your promotion.  Come along now.”  He hooks a finger into your cloak and pulls you easily into the kitchen.  (To be fair, you don’t struggle.  Anyone would want to see where this is going, right?)

He releases you once you’ve crossed over the threshold, waving his fingers uncaringly towards a second apron affixed to a hook on the wall as he beelines to remove a glass teapot from the stove and stifle the noise.  He moves quickly as you watch, casually throwing aside the spatula in his hand in favor of an ornate silver teaspoon.  He measures a vibrantly colored tea into the inlaid steeping container of the equally ornate teapot and takes a pleased inhale as the tea’s fragrance blooms, humming as he flips over a delicate hourglass to keep track of the steeping time.

There’s silence for a moment–

Him watching the teapot and you watching him.

“Well?”  He asks, without looking up.  You’ve seen this look before, you think – this pensive, almost lonesome look that makes your heart ache against all better judgment.  “Staying or going?”

He grins when you put on the apron.  You search his face for some sincerity, but he’s all sharp teeth and tall ears, covering any glimpses of deeper emotion with a sheen of smugness.  He circles you once you have the apron on, taking in the image.

“Mm, don’t you just look adorable.  Very domesticated.”

You’re pretty sure that the word he’s looking for is domestic. But of course, he knows what he said and he meant to say it.  You decide that he’s probably betting on your correction, already armed with a witty retort.  You smooth the apron down while pointedly looking away, deciding that you won’t give him the satisfaction.  You hear him chuckle.

Since you’re avoiding looking at Vere, you look around the kitchen for the first time.

It’s a spacious workspace–moreso than the storefront, even.  There’s a large iron stove unlike anything you’ve ever seen, covered with magical runes and dials, with a large hearth built into the belly of it.  A plethora of pots and pans have been placed on the burners, left to sizzle and pop in the red hot heat.  

Oil is singing from the heated, shallow basins but you don’t see anything cooking inside.  

There’s a slab of meat diced into neat squares and a heaping bowl of lumpy batter set to the side of the stove top.

“What are you making?”  You ask, trying to make sense of the scene.

“Panko crusted fish filet.  And there’s a pasta in the oven.  For dessert, I was thinking–” he gives you a sly look, one that makes your ears feel warm, “hmm, well.  I just had a much better idea in regards to dessert.”  He makes a show of licking his fangs, the movements of his tongue slow and sensual.

You think you tied your apron too tight; your airway is feeling a little constricted.  It seems to be getting worse the longer you watch.

You clear your throat, tearing your eyes away.  More ingredients, most partially prepared, and a host of dirtied pots and pans greet you.  You turn your back to him as you explore, fully engrossed in all of the views that the mess of a kitchen has to offer.  You’re almost afraid to ask: “So, what am I here to help with?”

“Oh?”  You don’t hear Vere come up next to you, but you feel him brushing up against you.  “Does my darling sous chef require…instruction?  A guiding hand, so to speak?”  You freeze, feeling his breath against your ear, shivers running down your spine at his light and teasing chuckle.

But then he’s breezing past you, making a wide dramatic gesture toward the large tome perched surreptitiously on the counter.  “Lucky for you, I’ve a recipe.”  His tail wags swishes elegantly behind him as he beams with pride.

His tail knocks the whisk out of the mystery batter beside the fish filet but he takes no notice.

Vere hops gracefully up onto the counter, reaching for the batter.  He does an impressive twist in order to grab hold of another whisk and you take the time to appreciate that.  Then, with Vere occupied and seemingly ignoring you, you take a look at the recipe book.  

The text is old and withered with the occasional dash of sprawling spidery script painting the margins.  (Said writing is utterly illegible–you’re actually not sure if it’s in a language you can read, though if you squint you think you can see something that looks like the word ‘cake’.)  The page it’s opened to is ripped in half, rendering precious steps of the recipe lost to time.  You spot a mysterious bite mark piercing through the corner of the leather cover.

And can’t stop yourself from surreptitiously glancing over at Vere.  He’s moved on from the batter (which looks as lumpy as it did a minute ago) and is now eating skewers of raw fish with his nails.

“You’re not supposed to eat while you cook,” you say, the time worn words out of your mouth before you can examine your personal stance on them.

“Says who?  Some limp dick?  No shame in indulging, pet.”

“You’re not even gonna have anything left to cook,” you warn.

“Hum, sounds like my sous chef should get to work covering them in batter instead of just standing there before I eat them all.”

You roll your eyes, but follow through with instructions.  The space is unfamiliar and your movements are slow and unsure with Vere looming over you from his perch on high, watching.

One of the pans of oil gives an ominous pop.  “Hmm, sounds like it’s hot enough,” says Vere.  “Move over.”

“Is that safe?”

“For me,” Vere says simply.  “And it’s faster.  Now stand further back or you'll get splattered–and not in the fun way.”  Idly, he tosses a batter covered filet into the shallow pan.  The resulting hiss makes you both cringe.

As if on queue, the hourglass for the tea gives a gentle chime, lighting up with a golden glow.  (You’re beginning to wonder how this humble shop can afford all these magical items, but then again this is the city of secrets.  You’re probably better off not knowing.)  Vere’s ears perk up, pleased.  He tosses the remaining fillets in the pan without a fuss, setting lids on top of each to contain the oil, acting as if doing so is going to stop any potential disaster.

Main course forgotten, he moves on to digging something out from inside one of the many cupboards.  “Be a dear and cut this for me, will you?”  He hands you a delicate peach before heading to the tea pot, stirring the contents and adding what must be a priceless amount of honey.

The peach in your hand is overripe but still vibrant–amazing, as you haven’t seen fresh fruit at all since you came to Eridia.  Your mouth waters anew as you remember what led you here in the first place–your quest for a meal–and you’re almost tempted to take a bite, follow Vere’s advice and sink your teeth in.

“My, my.  I’m almost jealous.  I thought you only looked at me like that.”

Vere shushes the denial from your lips, bossing you around regarding how he wants the peach sliced before shooing you out of his way and finishing his remaining tea preparations,with the look of an artist at work.  The tea is a warm oolong color, made only more alluring once the infusion of peach is complete.

It’s refreshing, too, once Vere serves it to you over ice.

You can almost ignore the great plumes of smoke coming from the oven.

Vere cooks how others might enjoy a leisurely stroll. 

Which is to say, he seems to be having fun, but you’re not convinced he intends on really going anywhere.  Still, there’s a rhythm to it–a dance, though he leads you in expected loops and turns, changes the tune at a moment's notice.  He’ll get bored of the task at hand and find some new spice to peruse, demand you taste test an ingredient or give your opinion on a dizzying new flavor he’s concocted.

(He manages to convince you to sample a bit of cucumber soup from the cold box.  You retch, proclaiming it salty, downing another glass of delicious peach oolong–

“I can still taste it in the back of my throat…!”–and he cackles wildly.)

Thick locks of hair are falling out of his up-do by the time he’s satisfied, framing his face and bringing your attention, again to the inviting line of his clavicle.  He tosses his loose hair over his shoulder, preening.

The recipe book is basically ruined, and the pasta is null and void, but some of the fillets look mildly edible.  The artful garnish is beautiful, at least.  The kale and orange slices really bring out the crispy burnt bits.  Vere seems to enjoy plating the food a great deal, humming and rearranging and circling the display until he deems it arranged to perfection.

He’s elegant when he takes a bite, biting down with a crunch.  His tail goes very still for a moment, then shivers microscopically as he chews.  He swallows in a manner that you can only describe as dignified, dabbing his lips with a napkin.  You wait in anticipation, but Vere says nothing for a long time.  Then, he quietly takes the old recipe book and throws it away.

Thankfully, he doesn’t insist on you trying it too.

You end up snacking on some of the pre-made goods, drinking the remaining tea and lounging at one of the shop’s cozy little tables.  The mood is light and easy, and the view is magnificent.  Outside, there’s nothing but trash littered streets and urchins, but inside…the afternoon glow coming from the window illuminates Vere like a sunset, painting him in dazzling shades of gold and red and bronze.

Vere hums, peering at you pointedly through his sooty lashes.  “So, dessert?”

You can’t imagine the look that comes across your face–whatever it is, it makes Vere laugh.

“What are you giving me that look for?  My intentions are pure.” His voice is a masterclass in syrupy false-innocence.  “As clean as Leander’s bed sheets after–”

“Please don’t finish that sentence and give me any mental images,” you beg.  “I have to sleep there tonight, I’d rather not know.”

“Ignorance is bliss.”  Vere agrees, closing his eyes and appearing to bask in the sun for a moment.  His face does something that you don’t quite catch–some hidden expression–but then, he’s smiling easily.  He must really be relaxed if he can still smile seconds after thinking about Leander.  You’re still admiring him when the shadows against the walls flicker, and suddenly he isn’t sitting next to you any more.

Instead, he’s returning from the kitchen, a tray in hand.

He sets it down in front of you, revealing an assortment of strawberries and an ornate silver porringer of what appears to be melted chocolate.  Vere sets it down on the table, plucking the small dessert spoon from the chocolate once he’s seated across from you again.

“Occasionally, life does offer up something sweet to savor–only for those willing to go out and take it.”  His tongue darts out to lick the chocolate off the spoon in his hand.  He maintains eye contact as his tongue laves across the basin and–embarrassingly–you think you get a little lightheaded from the intensity with which your blood rushes to your face.  The crinkles at the corners of his eyes tell you that he know exactly where your mind has gone.

Setting the spoon down, Vere instead picks up a bare strawberry, leaning in closer to press it gently to your mouth.

The chocolate is overly bitter–a little burnt, perhaps, but you can’t find it in yourself to care when you’re tasting the remnants of it on Vere’s lips.

(Before leaving, you plop a few coins down on the counter as payment.  You brought enough to cover your food…but definitely not enough to cover the mess in the kitchen.  There’s really nothing you can do about that.  

You hope you don’t get blacklisted.  You’d like to come back next Monday.)

Hope you enjoyed if you made it this far! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

[relaxxattack]

every time someone calls moirallegience just an alien qpr i wilt a lil like YEAH thats more or less the CLOSEST human thing but its also Literally Not That. like a qpr is fundanmentally not romantic and thats not even going into moirails whole Actual Purpose of calming ppl down. its just. aughhhhh pisses me off i see the confusion but, as aformentioned, aughhhhh

OH MY GOD THIS HAS BEEN BOTHERING ME TOO.... but i don't want to get petty at the people in my notes always saying "moirails are QPRs!" because in some ways that is the closest human thing so it's hard to be mad...

i think there's definitely some overlap in some ways. but NOT because moirallegiance and qprs are the same at all really, but INSTEAD because both relationships can be outside of popular human norms.

you know... like any relationship.

like the only reason the two really have overlap is because they are both committed emotional partnerships that aren't required to involve sex? that should be true for all romance, even if it's not the norm right now.

they're both just romances* that are unconventional to human norms, which makes people view them as the same thing when they're not.

i think the REAL issue here is that humans insist on using human words to understand things that are just, fundamentally, alien. can't we just appreciate alien romance for being... alien romance?

no, moirallegiance is not platonic, it's romantic. it's just romantic in a way you don't understand, is all. that doesn't invalidate that romance.

*in generalization, most QPRs are not romantic, because they are made up of aroaces who are life partners in a non-romantic way. however i want to disagree with you that none of them are romantic, because that is up to the partners in question.

[k00kiecrumbler]

I did a redraw from my dgm au :]

alternatives in the cut [ with filler / blood ]

[randomminty]

very important question... how old do you thnk bea and allister are ❤️ also do you have any headcanons for them lwokey...🫁 i smile at you with my big enormous blue eyes

Ok beas definitely like. 17/16 i think. Allister i have no idea maybe around 12/13 ?? Just a little guy

wrote an entire paragraph of hcs but i was just reiterating stuff ive already said forever ago in tags so here <\3

to add on to it i think it doesnt show on beas face when shes scared but its obvious through her body language. Visibly shaking and restraining herself from freaking out. When a movie jumpscares her her fight or flight kicks in and she nearly punches the tv :( ALSO allisters not as big on sweets but he still likes going to new places and eating desserts w bea. Maybe he tries making some for her by himself. And his pokemon help out. Yay

[deoidesign]

I was scrolling and saw your art and it made me really happy because I realized you made time and time again!!!

It’s literally one of my favorite things I’ve ever read, so cool!!!

This is so sweet, thank you for sharing!

It's sort of "illusion breaking" so to speak, to think of my art being both out there in a way that someone could happen upon it, and then further that someone may happen upon it twice, and finally that on doing so they find it recognizable...

I always think of myself and my work as something that sort of sits behind the curtain. The idea that it might take up space in this way is unreal!

This is the kind of thing that means more than you could imagine.

So thank you!

[formulanni]

you need to get into the Dallas Stars so we can get cool ass fan art like this smh

Girl I’m TRYING when ESPN stops doing blackouts for the game in my area I will watch 😭😭

Deadass drop a player and some lore in my ask box I’ll add them to my nhlers to draw list 😛

Side note do you know how painful it is to LITERALLY be in the same state as a hockey game and have espn black you out… I’m going to beat the owner of espn with hammers

[ragnars-tooth]

so very quick and sketchy but i was getting vague designs for all the tldc ladies down in one place

not so sure on gwendolen and gwilanna and i havent looked back at the books for details yet but these were just a quick cool down for the night 🫶

[svnflowermoon]

you are pretty like; smudged mascara, an art classroom, ticket stubs, wired earphones, worn out converse, washi tape, trust falls, lopsided grins, rings, squinted eyes, photoshoots, thrifting, eyeshadow, and doodles on skin

DO YOU WANT ME TO CRY BC THIS IS SO SWEET WTFFF

[vinelark]

hello good morning!! I love ur work BBTS haunts my thoughts at least once a week ☺️

i was just wondering if there was a name you would like us to use for you? Just Vinelark? Mrs. Vinelark? Please-Mrs-Lark-Is-My-Father-Call-Me-Vine? Vi? Lark=birdie?

hello! thank you! so glad it’s haunting you, it’s haunting me too 🤝

i go by fer! though tbh everything you came up with is truly excellent and now i’m tucking vi and birdie into my back pocket if i ever want a rebrand.

[paimonial-rage]

Please note that I'm not speaking for all writers when I say this, but if you're thinking of commenting on a fic you really liked, please do not put, "Part 2?????????????" or any of the derivatives.

You'll never know it if you're not a writer, but it takes a lot of work to finish something as little as 3,000 words. Majority of the longer fics I've posted on here took a minimum of eight months to finish. So to put in all that work only for people to ask me to put in more work is exhausting to read.

I write primarily for myself. I choose to share it because I think others may enjoy it too. Being consistently asked for a part 2 on oneshot fics makes me feel like I'm a fast food server, like it's my job to take your orders and serve the public. My writing, to you, is not an art to appreciate, but a commodity to fill your stomach.

If you're going to leave a comment on anyone's fic, say that you liked it. If you're feeling wordy, tell the author the things you enjoyed about it or what it made you think or feel. Trust me, that is far more flattering than demanding a sequel without anything else. And for my works, if asking for a sequel is the only thing you have to say, I'd really rather you just say nothing at all.

[pcktknife]

All of these r from Bulbapedia, so u can see what the pages say if u want more details.

I'll start with: even tho flint is famous for being in a region with like, 3 fire type lines in the dex, he is imo not the worst divergence from from his Elite 4 Type. I'd argue that crown goes to Agatha and Lance: Agatha has one common type among her pokemon in most gen 1, being the only elite 4 member where that's the case. It's not their ghost. It's poison. Lance mostly has flying types. And also, in every game except BW2, he has a pokemon that knows hyperbeam, and I'm very game except BW2, Stadium, and HGSS, ALL OF HIS POKEMON KNOW HYPERBEAM. And in let's go, he has Seadra on his team, cause Kingdra isn't available, but still that's neat! However this means he has 1 (one) actual dragon type on his team.

Lucius (Sinnoh) is kinda just Will (Johto) 2. They're both psychic trainers, and the only ones in their respective Elite 4's to fully stay On Type. Plus the design similarities.

Speaking of Will, according to Bulbapedia: "There is data in Pokémon Crystal for the gender of every Trainer class in the game, with the exception of Eusine. This is used to select which dialogue pool to sample from when randomly choosing the opponent's dialogue. Interestingly, Will is one of two male characters to be identified as female in this array. The other is Bugsy."

I have been trying to find anything about this (there is no citation or clear info on how this worked) but I have trouble thinking it was faked bc sure, Bugsy, notably androgynous okay. But Will????? Just Some Guy??? (Though there is a... Theory? Idk how widespread. That Lorelei like. Transitioned into Will. Bc of their similarities. Which sure. Why not)

Also shout out genderless icon Eucine I guess.

also not elite 4 but there's no flying type TMs in gen 2 so Falkner has to give you mud-slap. He also has the Lowest Level Gym Pokemon Of Any Gym Leader Period. This poor man.

finally: in Alder's trivia, it says "According to "Pokémon Dream" magazine, Alder was originally going to have a more "Christ-like" design.[citation needed]"

A CITATION IS VERY NEEDED, I THINK

the elite 4 (+ unova gym leader) trivia for everyone elses perusal ^^

[deus-ex-mona]

my five surviving braincells when something remotely good happens:

[lostcryptids]

.