#ecruteakmystic

[gogogobarry]

reverse cold Riley and Barry ( may he survive a visit from Dr Barry )

My muse is feeling under the weather, will your muse help them get better? (Add ‘reverse’ to switch roles)

“A-ha!” Barry crowed excitedly, bursting through the bedroom door with Ludicolo-like exuberance. “I knew that you’d call me first! You can always count on The Barry M.D. to cure ya quick! I told Staraptor to kick it into high-gear and ka-blammo! Twinleaf to Iron Island House, 15 minutes!”

Riley could only mumble beneath a pile of blankets, his protests flying into the warm, fluffy void. Barry wouldn’t believe that the aura mastermind had called Cynthia, Dawn, Johanna, Palmer, Byron, and Lucas first anyway. Why doesn’t anybody answer their Poketches?

Seeing the state of his friend, Barry leaped into action immediately, pulling all sorts of random doohickeys out of his seemingly-bottomless backpack. The blond had scattered most of his contents around Riley’s bedroom before he finally found what he was looking for: a warm thermos full of his mother’s homemade soup. “Here you go, pal! The first stage of treatment!” Barry announced, putting the soup on the island guardian’s nightstand. In spite of himself, Riley smiled–Barry really was trying his best.

“Thank you, Barry,” he croaked kindly before his eyes filled with apprehension once again. “Why do you have a blender…?”

Busy hooking up the whirling monstrosity to the wall outlet, Barry simply gave his friend a thumbs-up as he pulled fistfuls of Berries out of his pockets. “Oran Berry power shakes will help us take down that cold! Professor Rowan said that you should drink like, ten of these a day. Or did he say week? Whatever! I hope you’re ready to feel large and in charge once again!”

Riley slid under his covers as Barry turned on the blender without putting the lid on first.

[gildedsteel-blog]

❝so i assume you're the one everyone's talking about.❞

Steven stared at the two blonde men, curiosity written in their eyes. 

“If you mean me, yes I am indeed Steven Stone,” he quickly flashes a smile at the camera, “and yes I am Hoenn’s local idiot.”

[sinnohchampioncynthia]

Rate Riley and Kukui please!

send me a 💎 and my muse will rate your muse’s physical appearance on a scale of 1-10

“I couldn’t tell you on a scale of 1-10 how Riley looks right now because he NEVER LEAVES HIS STUPID ROCK!! I don’t know if I can answer that question, I’m a little biased, I’ve known him too long. I’ve seen that boy dressed up for dates and also as a gross unshaven mess covered him dirt and goodness knows what else. His score ranges all across the board… But know that, even when it is a high score, when I look at him I can still picture that time he had terrible food poisoning and threw up on my best boots.

Kukui gets a 10/10 perfect score. Have you seen those abs? Oh my! His score drops when he starts talking, but this is a physical appearance rating, right?”

[sonofthe-lion-blog]

"You're so in love with the prospect of embracing the void, it's obvious."

“You know, Morty, I really don’t know if I should give a sarcastic answer and try to play off what was obviously intended as a joke, or just admit that yes, part of me does secretly long for death.

“So yeah, you totally saw through me. I’m still not hugging your Gengar.”

[roarked-up]

coughs Roark visits Riley at the hospital coughs

“Shouldn’t this be the other way around?”

He’s only half joking.

After spending so much time in the hospital, it’s amusing that he’s the visitor for once. And it’s not like he wants to be here any more than the bare minimum, but he’ll put aside his personal dislike for Riley’s sake. 

Roark enters Riley’s hospital room and sets his jacket aside, sitting down on the chair next to his bed. Glancing over to his leg, elevated and wrapped in a cast, he shakes his head and smiles at him.

“I can’t believe you fell off a damn cliff!” he lectures, “you’re lucky you only have a broken leg! Now do you see why I’m always so concerned about you trainin’ alone on Iron Island? I hope you’ve learned your lesson!” He paps him on the head, then switching gears, pulls a book out of his bag. 

“Hospital TV’s garbage, so I figured you’d be bored. Here’s a book, nerd. Although, knowin’ you, you’ll probably be done with it in an hour anyway.” Roark crouches over his head and tucks a bang back behind his ear. 

Noticing the half-eaten tray of food by him, Roark picks up a carton of yoghurt and scoops up a spoonful. “Come on, Riley, I know the food here ain’t exactly got a Michelin star, but it’s important you eat! Calcium for strong bones! I’m gonna nurse you back to health, so open up.”

He holds up the spoon.

“Ahh~n!”

[revivalherbtea-blog]

bitter healing :: Morty and Lucy

“Yes, Grandmother.”

The old healer, still as spry as a woman in her youthful years, carefully handed a small woven basket to her granddaughter, who listened obediently to her lengthy instructions.

“And don’t forget to mind your manners, child. Don’t forget, Morty is a very important person in our community now.”

“Yes, Grandmother,” Lucy repeated once more as her grandmother pushed her eagerly toward the door.

“I would go myself,” the woman repeated for what must have been the tenth time that evening, “But I have other house calls to attend to.”

“I’ll be alright, Grandmother,” Lucy insisted as she awkwardly wrapped her scarf around her neck and the lower half of her face with one hand, while gently cradling the basket in the other.

“It’s not you that I’m concerned about,” the grandmother sighed beneath her breath as Lucy stepped out into the chilly evening air.

The sweet scent and warmth of her mother’s freshly baked pastries wafted from the basket as Lucy made her way toward the gym leader’s home. The sun had already set, but its ghost remained as its final rays danced on the sky, turning the clouds a pleasant shade of purple. She watched as the stars slowly began to reveal themselves, one by one, until she finally reached Morty’s residence.

Removing one of her mittens, she knocked on the door. When it opened, she invited herself inside from the cold immediately, promptly shutting it behind her.

“Good evening, Morty.” she greeted the man rather casually, despite her decidedly uninvited arrival. “Grandmother Agnes sent me to care for you for the night.”

[etcile-archive-blog]

❅ ☤ ✄

Send me a symbol and I’ll describe my muse’s (accepting)

❅ - Keeping warm/keeping cool techniques

To keep warm, it is simply a matter of the standard hot cocoa + fluffy blanket fort routine. Keeping cold is easy, he need only open the windows.

☤ - Self care/first aid habits

Sycamore is a skin care fanatic so he all sorts of moisturising creams and lotions that he will rub all over every single day. Hence his soft and supple skin. 

✄ - Nervous habits

Unhealthy as it is, he smokes when he is nervous. His fingers begin to reach for the roller and lighter the moment he feels the jitters.

[deceptivexhood-archive]

ecruteakmystic replied to your post: [ rhythmic jazz snapping from the shadows with a...

if we’re admitting stuff then this is me. - moonwalks out-

despise x2

[houseofhana-blog]

oh boy oh boy theme testing

oh don’t you know it 

[gogogobarry]

If possible any three hearts of your choosing from Barry to Riley?

something my muse would love to do to/with yours, but can’t.

“Wouldn’t it be awesome if both Riley and I could control aura?” Barry asked excitedly, moving his hands in a decidedly weird aura-bending motion. “I’ve even got a name for us: The Soul Brothers! We’d be really, really cool!”

“But Riley won’t teach me anymore...he says that I can’t concentrate,” the blond grumped, clenching his fists and holding his hands out for an imaginary Kamehameha of aura. “I’ll have you know that the Barry is completely concentrated! Concentrated with that brain power and ready to learn the secret arts once again!” (Cue the attempted backflip into bellyflop true combo).

something about your muse that my muse is jealous of.

Barry can’t answer this question presently, he is too busy trying to read the emotions of an angry Zubat using his aura powers. Have an Antidote on hand, reader. Dear god.

something my muse hates about yours.

“I wish that he would come out of his cave more!” Barry declared, frowning slightly. “I mean, I’ve been in there and it’s kinda boring! If he came to Canalave City we could grab ice cream, go swimming, and read every single book in the library! Think of all the fun times we could have, especially if we get the whole crew in on the action!”

“...And then, when all the fun and games is over and done with, maybe he can teach me more aura skills!”

[rollingxrocker-blog]

"Let me help you with that."

Jayden was always somebody who did something by himself, well, with some help from his team of course. But this time, he decided to try and haul it all up himself. He knew they were all tired, and he was too, but he could always take another break when he got home.

He was passing through a city in Johto, on his way from his old hometown in Kanto. It was a weird experience, and one he couldn’t really put into words. And this city spoke the way Lavender Town did. But it was a slightly different tune that rustled in the trees and weaved its way through the grass. Trying to balance his sheet music in one hand, a pen in his mouth, and his guitar in the other, it was certainly probably comical trying to watch the musician do it all himself.

Amidst his scrambling and mumbling to himself, he didn’t even notice somebody walking up to him, let alone speaking to him. He was so caught up in the strange and eerie melodies that played, that it was difficult to focus on more than one thing at a time.

“Wha-.” It was all he could really muster before his pen dropped, notebooks laying on the ground, and his guitar barely secured. Jayden only looked up a bit sheeping, bowing his head a small bit. “Sorry, sorry, I got all caught up in the music that’s playin’ here I didn’t even think a stoppin’! Thank you!”

[sinnohchampioncynthia]

Riley voice. "So, what do I actually bring to this event? And don't suggest alcohol. I have the distinct feeling that more than a few are going to bring some."

“Darling, naive, hopeless Riley. If you knew what I would say then why did you ask? But in all honestly, it’s Steven’s house. He’s probably got enough alcohol for little-old-lightweight-you stored away in a hidden wine cellar or something. Never fear! I have your back.”

[sonofthe-lion-blog]

Superstitious belief, fav place, what makes them happy and sad please!

Ω: Superstitious beliefs

Ever since an unfortunate run-in with a Haunter as a kid, he’s had this conviction that blue jackets are impervious to ghostly shenanigans. The fact of the matter is that the haunted house had a strict no-contact policy that even the Pokemon had to follow. Still, it makes him feel slightly better when dealing with all things ghostly.

♕: Favorite location

The stretch of road outside of the Battle Chateau. For all his talk of enjoying the anonymous press of the heart of Lumiose City, the stillness and silence of a country road after dark is one of his greatest loves. There have been nights that he hasn’t arrived home from a Chateau function until after midnight because he was just sitting on the riverbank, enjoying the motion of the water.

☀: What makes them happy?

Calem has a lot of simple pleasures -- good coffee, old friends (at least, the ones that he’s still on easy speaking terms with), spring breezes -- but the one thing above all that makes him happy is seeing his Pokemon having a good time. Even when they’re not battling, just the little day-to-day things: Merlin using telekinesis to steal the TV remote in order to demand attention, Serenity acting like a backpack because she likes being carried, Lion deciding that he needs another vigorous licking.

☁: What makes them sad?

A lot of the things in his past. Allowing his out-of-control ego to alienate the Vaniville Crew, the helpless feeling of watching his reputation get dragged through the mud, the number of people who didn’t make it out of Team Flare’s bunker. The memories press in on him sometimes, claustrophobic in a way that coffins and mosh pits can only have nightmares of.

[argxnto-blog1]

Where Will You Go? | Silver & Morty

Plotted Ahead! | @ecruteakmystic

Silver was always known to be a night owl; it had become habit at that point; he fit his normal life into the hours before he’d have to go to work, spent his time researching in his call center job – small business; he could get away with a lot of searching on the work’s computers – and when his shift would end and he would clock out, his real work began, hunting down Rocket. But not all days ended up in the same routine; not only did he have to hunt through very specific tabloids – as, obviously, the mainstream news doesn’t usually want to cover the sheer thought that Rocket could ever remerge – but sometimes news just… didn’t come his way; perhaps it was because he didn’t search hard enough, but often the reality was was that news just didn’t quite surface on some days, and those days were the ones that were confusing. Those were the days he didn’t know what to do with himself, and he just had to figure it out as he went along. Although scrappiness was his specialty, he wasn’t quite used to this… empty period; he wasn’t used to days where nothing happened in the hours of the day; he was used to things being occupied and time well spent. But there were days where he could no longer move forward in his hunt for all-things Rocket and he found himself asking well… now what?

It wasn’t a question he enjoyed asking, although it’s been unanswered in the back of his mind for well over seven years now. Since he was a child given up to the legal system’s prison-bars of a thing called ‘foster care,’ he’d only ever had his one goal in mind for five whole years – to see his father again and win his love and recognition back once more. Well, that time finally did come and… Silver received none of those things, but still, yes, he did see his father – saw him ebb away and sink into the darkness where even the screaming, clawing masses of the frantic ragtag remains of Rocket couldn’t find him; where he could possibly be now, Silver wasn’t sure, but after that point, Silver felt that… emptiness for the first time in his life. Betrayal, certainly, he had felt before, when he was dropped off in that shanty brick building far off in Goldenrod, but even then, past his tears and his confusion, past his frustration and heartbreak, he had clung to his father and wished to get him back. All of these years later and… what could he ask for now? What could he wish for? Live for? What could he aspire to be and to become? He wasn’t quite sure, and that uncertainty… petrified him. Perhaps it was why he busied himself in Rocket affairs, hunting down grunts one by one till they begged for mercy; in a way, it gave him something to do, something to be proud of; it gave him a sort of catharsis, knowing he was doing the right thing, but in times like this – and moments that followed going down that rabbit hole of a train of thought – he asked himself the same thing, dug deep into his mind like a well-burrowed leech. What now?

To stave off the thoughts, he occupied himself; Silver could never stand stagnation; it only gave those same thoughts more room to grow and fester. He had decided to grab some groceries then, perhaps make a soup of sorts by looking up a recipe on the Internet; who knows. The moon cast down its bright gleam on his walk home with his bags full of groceries, but an uncertain chill filled the air around him; a sensation crawled up his spine, and his hairs stood on end; instinct, it was sheer instinct at that point that turned him on his heels to scan about with wine red eyes wide, wide for any intruders – any intimidating, beefy figures that could grab him and use him in any way they pleased. But he realized after a moment that the streets before him were empty; the cafés and small restaurants dotted themselves to his right with the invisible talk of customers within, small and miniscule in the draw distance there and chatting amongst themselves in the moonlight; to the left was the pier, barred off by aqua-green, ugly, garish-colored bars that only served to restrict and neuter the great view of the waterside kissed with that alabaster glow of the ivory moon above. Nobody was there; the trees were too skinny and too perfectly-maintained to allow anyone to hide behind them, or within them above the canopy, and the restaurants were all stuffed together next to one-another in a tightly-packed plaza that held no back alleys. So… what was that feeling? The chills that snaked up his spine left his palms clammy and his form slightly shaking, his lip quivering and his breath shuddered shallowly. He was tense in a way he couldn’t understand, gripping the paper twine handles of his bag as though Death itself was going to take away his goddamn bag of carrots. A lump formed in his throat that he couldn’t quite choke down. What was going on…? Who was there? What did they want from him? He didn’t dare cry out these questions; he wasn’t a fool; if there was someone truly hidden there among the darkness, it wasn’t as though they would answer.

He scanned about for a few more moments for any signs of this… feeling manifested into whatever form that it may, before turning back around with a lingering glance behind him before he turned his eyes back to look ahead. He hurried a few paces faster than normal, a few steps before he felt that same chill only moments before brush across him again. Instinct, again. Or… was it? Was the feeling his intuition alerting him of danger, or… was that chill actually real, even in spite of the fact that there was no breeze nor draft nor… nothing at all? He spun back around, his eyes shrunken down now and his breath lost to the crisp air around him, his jaw quivering to hold back whatever screams of panic he could muster, spilling out as weak whimpers of a primal fear that he couldn’t quite decipher what it was aimed at. And perhaps seeing that there was no target at all to quell his fear and give reason for it all left a pit in his heart that pooled into his stomach that drove the heat to his face and the panic to well and grow and grow.

Once more, once more he tried to turn away and walk off, after finding nothing at all of note that could be his assailant, his stalker. His mind tried to rationalize it all – maybe it was a Rattata in the night, a bag in the breeze, though there was no breeze; maybe he was just hearing things, feeling things that weren’t real; maybe he was hallucinating. But by the time the third sensation ghosted itself across his back and his shoulders – so close to that dangerous feeling of a hand drawn across him – he spun himself around one final time, his sheer, bubbling panic welling up and tearing through in a voice that screamed “What the hell do you want from me?! Huh?! Show yourself!”

[gogogobarry]

🍗

It’s hard to limit myself to one thing here, but above all, I’d have to say that I’m thankful for your personal drive! It is amazing to me how you are able to shoulder so much responsibility (both inside and outside the roleplaying sphere) while still cheerfully making time for headcanon talk, meming, and general conversation with the group! Seeing your successes outside of WE is honestly very inspirational for me--I admire the heart and care that you put into both your work and your roleplay (you set an awesome example)! Thank you for being a cheerful presence on the mod team, and a great friend in WE over the years. Keep being amazing, Hana-cat!