#festival of unity

[subtomumbo]

Why not 2025

This has been an amazing journey as an artist to draw Joosts outfits from this concerts Thank you all for your support when i send my art here!! Heres to the Europapa Tour 2025 and always remember LAW Unity and Gratitude

[my-current-obsession]

I am taking note of every single villager who honestly suggests that Micah's half-monster status might have given his chosen bride cold feet and led to her running away and they are ALL dropping several positions in my internal character ranking.

[naturenova-herbals]

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[wavymsfit]

EDC was such a blasssst 🫶🏾✨💕🦄🧚🏽‍♀️🤸🏾‍♀️🤍🌼

[yuktasharma]

Happy Independence Day to all my amazing friends!

🌟Today, we celebrate the freedom and unity that make our country so special. Let’s cherish the spirit of independence and work together to build a brighter future. Enjoy the festivities and stay proud of our heritage! 🎉

For Design Contact - +91 8910139864

[justarandomllamacorn]

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More people came into the fale/hale ☺🧡

[adj-thoughts]

[tripping-harder-on-good-vibes]

ODESZA

[alanshemper]

[xoxobellebelle]

Galaxy shit 🪐✨🔭

[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!

[foolbo]

helena should get to go to festa di santa rosalia and get to wear a rose crown

[musiqjukebox]

The World Culture Festival here in DC was beautiful 😍

[tortademaracuya]

Todo el dia preocupado por un codigo poronga que no funcaba solo para llegar a la corrección y que funcionara perfecto cuando le pedí ayuda a les profesores

[lovelesslittleloser]

Sometimes, when I listen to a particularly good song, I can envision a scene and the emotions brought with it, and it makes me sad that my art and animation skills aren’t good enough yet to depict it to others the way I see it

[1whoconquers]

Mooncake Reflections: Finding Spiritual Nourishment in Tradition

Mooncakes, with their rich history and symbolic significance, offer more than just a culinary delight. Traditionally enjoyed during the Mid-Autumn Festival, mooncakes represent unity, gratitude, and the fullness of life. As we savor these treats, they serve as a reminder of the spiritual nourishment we receive from our faith and the importance of reflection during significant seasons. Continue…