#*weeps softly*

[celestialholz]

BREAKS DOWN THE DOOR

So. Couple fairy type ones for you. Please consider: Ephemeral TM019, Vanilla TM127. You essentially pick up what I’m putting down, I am sure 💕

I do indeed pick it up, and then I shake it up. xD Two fics; two very different forms of connection, just for you my friend. ^_^ Cross-posted to AO3 here as chapters three and four respectively, welcome to the revenge of the Fairy types. (Vanilla under the read more!)

TM19: Disarming Voice

It’s a revelation, the first time his best friend sings.

Brassius is fresh from hospitalisation, a deep, fragile blue coating his heart, but as they sculpt and paint together in the studio they’ve begun to share, he hears soft words, sung sweetly almost under breath. It’s stilted, lacking flow – he pauses between lines, lungs still recuperating – but it’s unmistakeable nevertheless.

“When your day is long… and the night… the night is yours alone…”

It’s soulful, melodious, in tune, and sung through a quiet smile. It’s indicative of recovery physical and mental alike, and it sparks utter joy in Hassel’s gentle heart, despite the song’s inherent sadness. He listens silently, eyes falling closed behind his canvas, heat prickling behind his lids.

“Don’t let yourself go… ‘cause everybody cries…”

Oh stop it, he says within his own mind, not remotely meaning it. You’ll start me off crying, dear. I already love you far too much…

“Sometimes everything is wrong… now it’s time to sing along…”

He doesn’t need open eyes to know that’s an invitation rather than a simple lyric; he chokes a tender laugh, faces him tearfully, joins his beloved in voice. He matches him pause for pause. I will always wait for you, Brassie.

“When your day is night alone… if you feel like letting go…” he’s weeping now, inevitably, though there is no trace of judgement upon the smiling countenance that meets his. “If you think you’ve had too much of this life… well, hang on…”

Brassius meets him then, in the studio’s centre; they intwine hands automatically, equals, partners, the song perfectly relevant to both in its own unique way.

“’Cause everybody hurts,” they whisper-sing, gazes miles-deep. “Take comfort in your friends…”

Arms spontaneously embrace, pull each other tight to them, murmur traces of loving, relieving sobs.

“I hadn’t thanked you yet, for staying by my side once more,” a breathy voice rasps against him. “Not just now, but ever since we’ve been acquainted. Such permanent sunshine…”

“I am privileged to be able to shine upon you,” comes the tender murmur in response. “Thank y-you, for remaining in the light.”

Dual shadows chased away, they sigh together, foreheads meeting. They keep building, Hassel knows – keep getting nearer and nearer to admitting what lays beyond their friendship.

… Now is not the moment, he understands gently. Now is about healing, and singing, and quietly loving, and so he pulls back before he loses himself completely, eyes bright, and begins anew.

“If you feel like you’re alone… no, no, no, you’re not alone.”

“No, I’m not,” Brassius whispers, clinging tight to his hands, grey gaze sparkling in silvered joy. “And nor are you, dearest Hass.”

*-*-*-*-*-*

Years later, the song for their wedding’s first dance seems obvious, but they ponder individually all day nevertheless, pensive throughout their League matches.

When they present one another later with the exact same song in the exact same moment, both laugh until they’re almost breathless, lips joining in harmonic silliness.

They conduct one another’s light, after all. There could have been no other real choice.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

TM127: Play Rough

“I need training, dear.”

Larry glances up from the newspaper he is merely glazing over, brow raising.

“Is that a formal request, Kate?”

Her eyes glint, challenge clear.

“Yes. Yes it is.”

The newspaper is spontaneously dropped; steel meets the forest, gazes locked.

“Mm,” he murmurs, conclusive. “Five minutes.”

She grins, almost evil, and the spell is cast. “Game on.”

Their Pokemon collected, they meet on the battle court in their own yard, hands shaken, excitement barely concealed behind simple nods as they walk to their respective sides.

For a husband and wife who take battling far too seriously, training is akin to warfare. He doesn’t generally consider himself passionate, but this… this is different. He knows her, intimately – knows how she looks in the dead of morning, bathed in heat; knows how she wears joy, softly and with infinite kindness; knows how she brings light to his world, light he had never seen the merest wisp of before being at her side. She thrills him on every possible level, and the sheen of battle is no different.

And so, as he does every time, he will play the game. He will bring every moment of his Elite Four training to their own garden, to an unsanctioned bout.

He will give her the battle of her life, because she is worth every tiny little half-second of his devotion.

… And, well. He’d be lying if he claimed not to enjoy these things himself, too, even if it is mostly through osmosis.

He releases Oricorio to her Lokix, and grins claim them both.

“Begin,” he announces simply, and they glow.

*-*-*-*-*-*

It is left in the end to Ursaring and Flamigo; his bird preens proudly as they stare one another down, fire united, and Ursaring lets loose a low growl. They are no strangers to their mother and father’s duels, and play their roles as though the world will fall if they do.

“Play Rough!”

“Dodge.”

Flamigo does, deftly – he is faster, and holds the overall advantage. Both Pokemon wear their gleaming crowns, casting the fauna around them in glistening fractures of light, king and queen of the residence; it is blinding, but husband and wife both retain utmost focus.

“Brave Bird.”

“Intercept!”

He blinks, briefly, as Ursaring meets Flamigo head on. He sees a flash of a younger Katy behind his eyes – a memory, five years old, of her refusing to temper herself to his stubbornness.

She had never known when to quit, even against insurmountable odds.

“Just have dinner with me!”

“I… I can’t just have dinner with you.”

“And why not?”

“Because we’re both in the League -”

“So are Hassel and Brassius! Never stopped them, has it?”

“I… no, but -”

“But nothing, silly man. You’ll meet me in Treasure, seven sharp. Be terribly unprofessional of you to miss such an important meeting, dear…”

He flips back to reality, smile clinging to him. She shifts his horizons daily, cherishes him for exactly who he is… inspires him to become brighter.

His stare sets, and watches every minute detail; watches Ursaring as though she’s in slow-motion, the grasp and the throwback and the setting up for -

“Brave Bird!”

“Play Rough!”

It ends in carnage; both sparkle out, gleam receding, simultaneously knocked out by blows taken in unison. Recoil damage can be a cruel mistress.

They thank their friends as they meet once more in the middle, smiles identical.

“Very well-played, darling.”

“Very well-played indeed, dear.”

Technically, the game is a draw – but as he feels the burst of light against his heart, as he takes her hand and they head for the Pokemon Centre, he acknowledges silently that he much prefers to think that they both win.

Got a request for The Technical Festival, which celebrates Ephemeralart and Vanillacupcakes through the medium of TMs? Take a look here; my askbox is open!

[kindred-spirit-93]

i have 99 problems & these magnificent socks will fix like 98 of them

today's bug thing are these very hungry caterpillar socks!

[saturnvs]

how rare and beautiful

[fronomeeps]

Happy Birthday, Subway Boss.

[caapsart]

happiest moment of his life

[royalarchivist]

Mariana: What's your favorite food?

Jaiden: Oh, my favorite food... uh, wait–

Mariana: Taco Bell? Something like that?

Jaiden: Uh, amo las papas... fritas.*

Roier: Ohh, french fries!

Jaiden: Uh-huh!

Mariana: Oh my god, Jaiden! Ohhh, you speak so good, man! You're Mexican!

Jaiden: Oh, thank you!!!

Roier: [Laughs] Yes!

Mariana: Oh, yes Jaiden, yes! I'm gonna hit you! I'm gonna hit you! :D [He gives her a friendly punch]

Jaiden: Si! Aaa! [Laughs]

[ Transcript continued ↓ ]

—

Mariana: Ok, you like papa fritas, the french fries.

Jaiden: Mhmm. Si!

Mariana: And- and what's your favorite restaurant? Like Popeyes, Chick-fil-A, tell me.

Jaiden: Umm...

Roier: Doña Lupita's Tacos?

Mariana: Yeah.

Roier: Yeah!

Jaiden: I dunno if you guys have it. It's called– I don't know if you have it in– uh, if it's–

Mariana: Don't worry! We are Mexican, but not stupid.

Jaiden: It's called– I- I looked it up–

Roier: [Laughs]

* [She's trying to say "I like fries"]

[holdmymallowsweet]

A Wisp of Affection

Richard Jackdaw x f!MC

Word count: 1,635

A chance meeting in the depth of a summer night leads to some playful banter, and an intriguing question.

Also on AO3, properly tagged

a/n: I’ve been feeling a certain way about this ghost boy lately, and then I came across Sasha Alex Sloan’s “Dancing with your Ghost” by chance and it put me in a wonderfully melancholic mood. And now that you know what to blame for this, enjoy.

There was something enticing about the Forbidden Forest at night. Laced with a prickling sense of danger, it promised adventure and glory- or perhaps notoriety, for those bold enough to venture into it. He might not have met an untimely death, if it hadn’t been for his odd fascination with the place.

Soft footsteps and rustling in the grass told him someone was approaching, and he felt her presence before he even saw her.

She found him again.

He turned his head to look at her, which always startled her a bit-

But then, where was the fun in getting his head cut off, if he couldn’t use it for comedic effect? And it always made her laugh in the end.

This time was no different, eyebrows raised in a slightly disturbed frown, corners of her lips twitching upwards, she gave him a quick huff of laughter before closing the distance between them. 

“Hello, Jackdaw.”

She strode over to him, disturbing a swarm of fireflies as she went, before she sat down.

“Hello, you. Out for a midnight stroll?”

“Always, you know me.” She flashed him another one of her playful smiles.

He returned it fondly. They both liked to pretend that she came across him by accident when they met like this, usually in the depth of night, when everything was quiet, save for the ambient sounds of the forest. He always found it romantic, although not many agreed, at least not the girls he tried to court when he was alive.

She took a deep breath of air. The fireflies illuminating her skin when they flew close and the serene look on her face made her feel like something out of a dream. More of an apparition than himself. The sight would have made his heart flutter, if he’d had one. She brushed a flyaway strand of hair behind her ear, only getting it at the second try, and he wished he could have done it for her.

He’d known they were kindred spirits when he sent her off into the cave where he met his demise. When he noticed she still had her head, the next time he saw her, he was both relieved and disappointed. He wasn’t entirely sure how tangible relationships between ghosts could be, but Merlin, he’d have liked to discover it with her, if it had come to that.

Curious, fearless, playful and teasing in a way that felt warm and endearing rather than malicious. Traits that Anne had once shared with her, before Azkaban cruelly burnt them away. Perhaps that’s why he’d briefly entertained the notion of picking up where he left off with this one.

It was quite pointless to think about, really. He wasn’t of her world, and she wasn’t from his time, not even born yet when he was alive. It was no matter, he’d never mature- mentally or physically- beyond his 17 year old self. Whatever it was that they shared on these summer nights, it was a fleeting sensation. Soon enough, she’d outgrow him, worry about employment and other adult responsibilities, perhaps remember him as a schoolgirl crush as she aged while he would be no different than he was now. Waiting around for the next lass or lad who’d indulge him, but she’d likely always be one of his favourites.

He looked up at her- which reminded him that he was still holding his head, which he promptly replaced on his neck- waiting for her to speak. In the beginning, he’d tried to woo her with tales of his adventures, but she wasn’t easily impressed. Understandable, as she had plenty of adventures of her own under her belt. Over time, he realised that it was more rewarding to enjoy the silence with her, until she’d suddenly have a thought, or a question that led to something- a jaunt through the forest or sometimes just a bit of teasing back and forth between them, but he loved it all the same. 

“How’s Anne?”

All right, not what he’d hoped for. 

“Much the same, really, but I don’t want to talk about Anne right now.” He only ever visited her in St. Mungos out of a sense of moral obligation, she only vaguely remembered him and they no longer had anything to talk about anyway. Being ultimately responsible for her fate, the guilt would forever stay with him, but he didn’t want to let it spoil the moment.

She said nothing, only measured him with those piercing eyes of hers that seemed to see right through him, in more ways than the obvious one. She’d always been the perceptive sort, had a knack for figuring out what went on in the heads of others. It could be quite unnerving, but thrilling at the same time.

“How come I never see you around the castle?” she asked, evidently content to drop her previous question.

“Why, did you miss me?”  

He’d avoided her on purpose. She had her own life in the light of day, and he didn’t want to constantly fight the temptation to invade her privacy. This was at most a dalliance, not the romance of the century, and it was better that way, considering their circumstances.

“Do you remember the deathday ballroom? I thought I’d see you there sometimes, but I never do.” 

He made a face. “Not really my preferred choice of location. Or company.”

She chuckled. “Not one for dancing, are you?”

“Did you happen to take a look at the other ghosts? Hardly anyone there who’s not old enough to be my mother. Or my grandmother.”

She raised an eyebrow. “I’m fairly certain at least some of them died after you.”

“That’s not really how this works.”

She laughed. If only he could dance with her- 

Actually, perhaps he could. One of those stiff, boring dances that didn’t involve touching. He watched her as she pushed back that strand of hair again. It was hard to imagine her curtsying in a pretty dress anyway, she looked much better running and scrambling through the forest, with the hems of her robes frayed beyond the capabilities of even the most potent repairing charms.

“You know, speaking of dance partners…” 

“Yes?” He was perfectly willing to change his mind though, if that’s where she was going with this.

“Have you ever kissed someone?” she asked, giving him a curious look.

“I’ve done more than kissing, little fledgeling. I was quite popular with the girls in my time.”

She raised an eyebrow and gave him a derisive snort. “Oh? How’d that work out for you?”

He grimaced. Poorly almost seemed to be an understatement, but then neither of them had ever been as good a match for him as her. More willing and able to follow his clues and solve his riddles than Anne, more intrigued by the treasures in his thief’s den than Apollonia- she was a bit of a magpie herself, much like him. They would have been so good together.

“Why, looking to take advantage of my expertise, are you?” She had no shortage of male acquaintances she might possibly want to kiss. Personally, his galleons were on the freckled brunet- that one reminded him a bit of himself. He wasn’t sure what she would have wanted with the sarcastic, blind one, but then there was no accounting for taste, and she always was a bit unpredictable. He wouldn’t blame her either way, there could never be anything real between the two of them, and she had needs like any other person.

“Do you miss it?”

“Obviously.”

She didn’t respond immediately, staring at her outstretched legs, tapping the tips of her boots together.

“If someone kissed you… uhm, had their lips close enough to yours that you would be kissing, I suppose, do you think you could feel it?”

He took a moment to stare at her. “Of course not.” 

She turned to meet his eyes. Was he imagining the slight blush on her cheeks? It was hard to tell in the darkness. Was this going where he thought it was?

“I mean emotionally. You can clearly feel joy, and sadness-”

“Only one way to find out.” He swiftly grabbed his head again, holding it so that he was at eye level with her- if she wanted to, she could laugh, play it off as a joke.

Merlin, that startled expression was even more adorable up close, and her theory was already proven right. He couldn’t remember ever being so excited and nervous about a kiss, not even when he was alive. But there was no way he’d tell her, not while there was still a chance that she’d close the distance, and he could perhaps feel the tiniest sliver of her warmth, or get an idea of what she tasted like.

He almost couldn’t believe his luck when she leaned forward, close enough that he could count her eyelashes, only to stop a finger’s width away from his lips. 

Then she smirked. “Did you think I was going to give you my first kiss? Just like that?”

“Well, it wouldn’t have to count-” he pouted.

She laughed. “If you want my kiss, you’ll have to earn it.”

“How?”

She stood up, brushing dirt off her robes. “I’m sure you’ll think of something,” she said, flashing him a last, teasing smile before she turned around and started walking back the way she’d come.

“You’re leaving?” 

“For today.”

His mind feverishly tried to come up with something, anything, to get her to stay.

“Wait.”

She turned around, looking at him expectantly.

“How about a riddle? Just for you. In exchange for the kiss.”

Her eyes sparkled.

There was no version of forever that they could share, but on these summer nights, for a brief, fleeting moment in time, she was his.

a/n 2 : So there you go, I wrote this over the course of two glorious moody summer nights and it was so much fun. They always say ‘write what you want to read’, and this really is just something I really, really wanted at that moment, but if you liked it as well (let me know if you did) I’m happy. ❤️ This little encounter takes place after the whole Ranrok issue is resolved and Mc is just another (adventurous) student, Anne has been released from Azkaban and is living at St. Mungo’s permanent care ward, while Jackdaw is trying to settle in as one of Hogwarts’ ghosts. Also, I always imagined Jackdaw as a Slytherin (but I’m coming around to Ravenclaw!Jackdaw) and both MC and Anne as muggleborn Hufflepuffs (I just like the idea of those two being awfully similar, but with the crucial difference that Mc really is as adventurous and clever as Jackdaw expected Anne to be), but in the end none of their houses came up 😅 And finally, english isn’t my first language, so if you liked the story but you had a “she keeps using that word, I don’t think it means what she thinks it means” moment, feel free to let me know (just be nice about it) Cheers!

[the-faded-1]

I am content in the delulu that Optimus' ending speech was heard by not only the Autobots, but also Megatron.

"Do not lament my absence, for in my spark, I know that this is not the end, but merely a new beginning. Simply put, another transformation."

[chanstopher]

🐺🫧240205

[stinkcoke]

For you my friend

Sorry no tom. Cant draw him right now

[fiddleleafedfig]

🎉Happy 1-year anniversary!!🎉

Ok so I’m not going to do a full long winded rant (ok maybe a lil).

So, one years ago, I started this blog. One year ago I was, coincidentally, also posting my first ever work on ao3.

I’ve been in this fandom for a much longer time. I’ve been in fandom spaces, at large, on and off since I was a small child. The thing is, I never interacted. I never commented, never posted, never bookmarked. I was a ghost, basically.

As I stepped back onto tumblr for the first time after several years, I found something that I desperately wanted. I found people having these incredible connections and experiences online, I saw friendships forged right in front of my eyes. Friendships built on something I could barely talk about to other people around me.

I had like six months of incredible fomo.

And then I decided that I could either commit to the fomo, realize that my fear of being perceived online is too great. OR. Or I could fucking do something about it. And so I did. And I still remember the absolute terror of sending that first vulnerable ask to @imsiriuslyreading bowing before her and her ability to shamelessly enjoy fandom and all its joys. She became my first mutual, which was absolutely crazy (since I had had envied her from afar on both TikTok and tumblr for literal months)

I started a new blog, I wrote a lil story, I challenged myself and put myself out there. I have met/interacted with the most incredible people along the way. All thanks to that choice.

I feel incredibly lucky and fulfilled for having taken that step. And thank you all so so so much for being lovliest people in my phone 🩷

Super sappy rant over.

Happy birthday to this blog 🎉✨🌈

[septemberlikeastorm]

mt friend just posted something saying "if i love you i’ll let you have power over me and that’s probably my greatest gift that i could give to you" and that's literally qimir i don't know what else to tell you

i don't know what else to tell you either buddy, you understand him too well. so well that i offer a meager gift which happens to be the greatest i can offer, a quote-corresponding snippet from cascade ocean wave blues come chapter five:

A couple days ago she’d watched him tie his hair back on either side, and only once he’d finished did she crook a finger, indicating for him to lower his head.

He’d complied, thinking—and thrilled—that she wanted to smooth his hair, and even when he realized she was unwinding one of the cords he’d still kept his head ducked for her, his only reproach a mild, “I just finished tying that.”

The reproach turned out to be even milder than intended, for her fingertips had brushed the sensitive shell of his ear, and his breath had hitched sharply, the word just a cliff that the following words had flung themselves off of.

She’d had the grace to pretend not to notice, and he’d had the grace to pretend he didn’t know she’d done it on purpose.

As a wing of his dark hair fell forward to obscure the left side of his face, she’d used the cord to tie back some of her own locs until her hair was half-up, half-down, saying impishly, “You can’t be the only one with a jaunty little hairstyle.”

[bankaizen]

are you kidding

[therealslimshakespeare]

https://www.tumblr.com/precious-little-scoundrel/754236440241717248/oroh-or-guys-what-if-smith-draws-an-astral-map

He seems like the type that would annotate books 😭 Maybe a book that he read in the stalag, then when he finished he noticed that she picked it up to read but maybe theres some sort of plot that requires a particular and obscure knowledge to follow along with so she can’t get through it. For some odd reason Gale has that knowledge and so he rereads it and adds little comments and notes to help her get through it 🥰

You have taken me out. This is exactly the low key, personalized love Gale Cleven would have dripping from his pores and when you try to thank him for it he’s as elusive to pin down as a ghost so -a hug will have to do.

[nulltune]

art credit! ❤️ 🗣📢 HAVE YOU SEEN MY MOON WIFE!!! well now you have :] i am very politely handing u her (shoving her in ur face-) bc 🥺🥺😭😭🫶💖💞💗

[definitelyimportantpost]

Etrian Odyssey V: Primeval Forest Ring - Piano Arrangement by Verdegrand