#I WAS SUPPOSED TO POST THIS ALREADY I FORGOT

[angelsafa]

The only post you need to stop doubting.

Hi my loves,

Wdym you are not able to manifest that thing because some thoughts are popping into your head, and are making you doubt, and there's a voice that says that you are not able to do it???

Okay. Let's take a deep breath and relax.

You’ve been feeling like maybe your doubts are blocking your manifestations? Maybe you overthink a lot? Or you feel scared sometimes? Or you’re like "omg do I have to believe everything all the time or else it won't happen 😭😭"??

I got you my angel. I came here to save you hehe

First of all: NO. Your doubts aren’t ruining anything. The only way they “delay” something is if you start BELIEVING them. Like if you go “ugh I feel doubt... that means I won’t manifest” then obviously you're giving power to that version of reality. You’re choosing it. But that doesn’t mean the doubt is the problem — it’s your decision to let it be more important than what you want, yk?

The doubt itself? Harmless. Like a mosquito. Annoying but whatever. Just don’t feed it. That’s it.

You’re not supposed to feel perfect 24/7. You’re not a robot. You’re still pure consciousness, yes, but in a human experience. You get to have thoughts and still manifest instantly. You get to have doubt and still shift. You get to have fear and STILL BE THE MF CREATOR.

You think infinite consciousness is gonna get blocked by a lil anxious thought? Pfft. Be fr.

Now listen to me: You don’t need to believe in the void. You don’t need to believe in yourself. You don’t need to feel like you’re floating in a magical cloud. You just need to decide.

“I have this. It’s done.” That’s it. You decide, and the 3d shifts. Period.

And you already KNOW the 4d is the real reality, right? Sooo... you already shifted. The 3d just has to catch up. That’s literally all.

"B-but S-afa I-im scared the d-doubt is p-pushing i-it away..." My sweet angel. Let me say this lovingly: stfu. (not because I’m mean, but because I love you and you need to snap out of it). You’re too powerful to keep acting like a lost little sheep my sweet angel. YOU’RE A LION BABE. YOU ARE THE DESIGNER OF YOUR REALITY. WAKE UP.

The fear isn’t doing shit. You thinking “the fear is ruining it” is the only thing getting in the way.

Now. About the void, 4D, all that stuff...

Let’s simplify:

4D = your inner world. Your imagination. Your decisions. That’s what’s real. That’s what manifests.

3D = the mirror. The echo. The leftover energy (stop reacting to it. It’s not even real).

The void = your natural state. Pure being. No thoughts. No ego. Just the real YOU. When you’re not playing the “I’m this little human with trauma and fears” game.

Shifting = literally just choosing a different version of you and living from that. That’s it.

(Tbh I don't really belive in those terms because we are simply everything and anything all in one. But I use them so you my sweetcheeks understand it)

And no, you don’t need 100% belief. You don’t need perfect thoughts. You just need to say “I’m in the void because I said so.” And that’s it. DONE.

You think the void is a special club that only chosen ones can enter? My love, YOU ARE the void. You’re it already. You’ve just been pretending you’re not. Or maybe you forgot. Idk.

So... stop pretending, and remember who you truly are.

Be like: “lol okay yeah I feel scared and got doutbts rn but that doesn’t mean shit. I still get what I want. It’s already mine.”

You’re not affirming for fun. You’re not persisting for the aesthetic. And certainly you are not faking anything. You’re doing it because YOU ARE THE CREATOR and the 3D literally has to obey you.

You wanna manifest in the void? Go in. Say “I’m there.” That’s enough. There’s no waiting. There’s no test. It’s yours.

You wanna manifest in the 4D while still thinking random negative thoughts? Cool. Do it. Because YOU are the one deciding what’s real and what isn’t. And those couple of shitty thoughts won't do anything to the manifestation sweetie.

So now tell me, are you gonna keep crying over a thought that says "but what if it doesn’t work?" OR are you gonna laugh and say "anywayyy it’s already done so shut up?"

Your choice.

Now go be delulu, go script like crazy, go feel it, go DECIDE. Go live in the 4D like your life depends on it (bc spoiler: it kinda does). The 3D is just the old news. Boring. Let it catch up. (Or well, tbh it doesn't even need to because manifestation is instant lol).

You’re the void. You’re the imagination. You’re the power. You're everything.

So go and act like it!!

And I better see you out there ACTUALLY manifesting and not procrastinating!! Stop with reading the same information, that is just written with different words in blogs. You already know all you need.

Oh and I better read your success stories soon, you hear me my sweet angels?? Because you literally got this. Like you are the designer of your reality do you realize that??!!

Anyways, remember who you are, and you got this my loves!

Lots lots lots of love,

Safa

[camficdiner]

i love the way you set this up! could i order [1.2] [2.3] [3.6 soft smut)] [4.3]?

☕️ Cam’s Fic Diner — Order 037

🍒 thank you!

To whoever requested this, you’ve got a heart of gold and a soft spot for broken boys just like me 🥹

Thank you for trusting me with your vision — I hope this gave you all the late-night ache, soft hands, and whispered *“stay”*s you were hoping for.

You’re always welcome back at the Diner 🤍

💬 “The Only Place I’m Still Me”

✨ description & prompts:

– character: Quinn Hughes

– prompt: Late night confession after a loss

– wc: ~.1.1k

– type: soft smut, emotional hurt/comfort, post-season breakdown

🧁✨🛼🍒

You weren’t expecting him tonight.

In fact, you were already in bed. The soft glow of your bedside lamp was the only light in the apartment when the knock came—tentative, uncertain, like whoever was on the other side wasn’t sure they had the right to be there.

You open the door barefoot, heart still settling from the silence. And then you see him.

Quinn.

Soaked from the rain. Hoodie pulled over messy curls. Shoulders hunched. Hands trembling, even in the sleeves of his jacket.

He doesn’t say a word. Just looks at you.

You don’t need him to. You step aside.

He steps in.

⸻

He sits on the edge of your couch like he’s afraid he might break it. Or himself.

You wrap a blanket around his shoulders and crouch in front of him.

“Quinn,” you say gently, voice steady. “Talk to me.”

He doesn’t. Not right away.

The silence stretches until you feel it start to ache in your chest.

Then, suddenly—

“I didn’t know where else to go,” he says. “Everyone else just wants to talk about the game.”

You nod once, waiting.

“They ask questions like I’m not a person. Like I’m just the fucking captain. Like I’m supposed to stand there with my chin up and smile while I get torn apart on camera.”

His voice is sharp. Bitter. But beneath it, you hear the crack.

“I’m so tired,” he says. “I’m so goddamn tired.”

⸻

You don’t say anything. Just reach for his hand.

He lets you hold it.

You squeeze. “You don’t have to be anything here.”

He looks at you, eyes rimmed red. “I don’t think anyone gives a shit about my happiness.”

Your thumb brushes over his knuckles. “I do.”

A beat.

“I miss who I was with you,” he says. “When it didn’t feel like the weight of the city was on my back. When it was just… quiet.”

You lean in, press your forehead to his. “Then stay. Be that person here.”

His breath stutters.

⸻

Later, in your room, you help him out of his wet clothes.

He doesn’t touch you like a man hungry.

He touches you like he’s scared he forgot how.

Your hands move slowly over his chest, his arms, his back. You trace every scar with reverence.

“Is this okay?” you whisper, fingertips just under the hem of his shirt.

He nods.

But when you pull the shirt over his head and his skin is bare, he closes his eyes like it hurts.

“Quinn,” you say, softly. “Look at me.”

He does.

And you see him there—really see him. Broken down, exhausted, drowning in pressure and expectation, but still him. Still Quinn.

“You’re safe here,” you tell him. “With me.”

⸻

He kisses you like he’s trying to remember how.

His lips are soft and desperate. Your hands find his jaw, thumb brushing along his cheek.

“You’re allowed to fall apart,” you whisper into his mouth.

He nods, and then he falls.

Right into you.

⸻

The sex is slow. Gentle. Emotional.

Quinn lays you down like you’re made of glass. His hands tremble as he touches you, memorizing the shape of your body like it’s the only real thing left.

You undress each other between soft breaths and tangled limbs. There’s no rush. Only feeling.

When he enters you, he gasps—like relief.

You hold his face the entire time.

He moves carefully, reverently, hips rocking in sync with your breath.

“I missed you,” he whispers, voice thick with emotion. “God, I missed you.”

You wrap your legs around him, anchoring him.

“I’m here,” you whisper back. “I’m right here.”

He buries his face in your neck, thrusts growing deeper, more urgent—but never rough.

It’s not about fucking. It’s about coming home.

He finishes with a broken moan, your name tangled in it like a prayer. He collapses on top of you, breath ragged, tears warm against your collarbone.

⸻

You stay like that for a long time.

Breathing together.

Holding each other in the dark.

When he finally pulls back to look at you, his eyes are glassy. Vulnerable.

“I don’t want to go back to pretending,” he says quietly. “Out there, I have to be everything. For everyone. But here, with you…”

He trails off.

You smile gently. “Here, you’re just Quinn.”

⸻

The next morning, he wakes up tangled in your sheets.

Hair messy. Voice hoarse. But there’s color in his face again. Life in his eyes.

He brings you coffee—badly made, way too much sugar—but he tries.

You drink it anyway.

At the door, before he leaves, he hesitates.

Then—

“Can I come back?”

His voice is barely a whisper. “Even if I mess it all up again?”

You cup his face.

“You never have to ask.”

He kisses you—soft and sure.

Then he walks out into the daylight.

[demie90s]

Why Wait

Brittney Griner x fem!rookie!reader

MASTERLIST | MORE

Summary: What starts as a late-night swim turns into a teasing, intimate moment poolside—complete with soft kisses, whispered praise, and a little public risk.

Genre: Soft smut, humor, couple energy

Word count: ~ 1.3k

Warnings: SMUT, Explicit sexual content, cursing, poolside shenanigans, established situationship/marriage-like dynamic, oral (receiving), public (well?)

The hotel room was dark except for the TV glow, one sock dangling from the lamp like it had a purpose. We were supposed to be asleep—hell, the whole team was supposed to be asleep—but BG was stretched across the bed, remote in one hand, chewing on a piece of candy she found like it was dinner.

She looked over at me like a child with a bad idea already loaded in her mouth.

“Let’s go swimming.”

“…girl, it’s 1AM.” I barely blinked.

“……soooo?” she smirked.

I exhaled through my nose, already sliding off the bed. “Let’s go.”

We crept through the side stairwell like teenagers sneaking out their mama’s house, towels slung over our shoulders, our shoes whispering against the tiles.

The pool deck was empty—lights dimmed, water glowing like it had secrets. BG dove in without hesitation, big ass just gliding smooth like a damn shark.

I sat on the edge, feet in the water, giggling to myself while she swam a lazy lap and then floated toward me.

“You look good sittin’ there like that.” Her voice was soft, but smug. Confident like she knew exactly what was coming next.

She swam up close, hands sliding over my shins, then my knees, slow and warm. Then she spread her hands on my thighs, thumbs rubbing circles into the softest part. I shivered, even though the air wasn’t cold.

“Girl you tew freaked out, chill on me.”

“I’m not even doing nothing,” she lied so bad, grinning up at me with her dimples.

One kiss—sweet. Just lips on lips. Then she pulled me gently back, laying me out on the cool tiles like I was her private little offering. She tugged my shorts to the side like she was too lazy to take ‘em off proper, like she knew she wasn’t gone need to. Not with how easy I melted.

“Brittney?!” I hissed, eyes wide, looking at the damn lifeguard chair like somebody might pop up outta thin air.

“What? Ain’t nobody out here.”

“Girl…” I didn’t finish, couldn’t. Her tongue slid between my folds and all that attitude I had . Gone. Slurred outta me.

She ate it like she missed it. Like I was her midnight snack, post-game feast, Sunday dinner and dessert. Soft moans left her lips while she stayed locked on my face, watching me breathe, twitch, whimper—like she liked the control, but she loved the taste more.

I was grinding against her mouth, lowkey embarrassed by how loud the water sounded slapping around us. She didn’t care. Just slipped two fingers inside like we had time, like she knew how far she could push it before I broke.

“Keep lookin’ at me,” she whispered, tongue flicking my clit like it was her name in cursive. “I said…keep lookin’.”

I did. I had to. She had me locked in, legs shaking, hands gripping wet tile, mouth open and no words coming out but high, broken little sounds. She flattened her tongue and groaned against me, making everything worse—in the best way.

She didn’t stop till my thighs quivering around her shoulders. And even then, she just kissed it once, like a thank you.

When she finally stood, I was laid out like a crime scene, blinking at the sky like I forgot what year it was. She leaned down and kissed my lips again, slow.

“You always this easy?”

I squinted up at her, breathless. “You 6’8 and nasty. What the hell I’m supposed to do?”

The walk back through the hotel lobby was disrespectfully romantic.

I had on a wrinkled U.S.A. hoodie and pool water still drying between my thighs, but BG. Oh honey. She was walking like we just got back from a honeymoon. Holding my hand. Fingers laced. Swinging our arms like we were strolling through Target on a Sunday afternoon.

I glance down and realize she’s using her shirt to dry my hand.

“Brittney…”

“What?” she shrugs like this normal. “You cold. Come here.”

Next thing I know, she’s wrapping her big-ass arm around my shoulder, tucking me into her side like a lil suitcase.

I mean…we do fit. Too well.

Two girls at the front desk clock us immediately, whispering like they just spotted Beyoncé and Jay-Z. One of them mouths “Is that Brittney Griner?” and I feel BG squeeze my shoulder tighter.

“Mhm,” she mumbles down at me, “they gon’ be thinkin’ I’m your wife.”

“You act like it,” I mutter, rolling my eyes, but I don’t move. Not yet.

We get into the elevator. I’m tired now, body loose and warm from the pool and her mouth and all that damn praise. I lean against her without even thinking about it—head to her chest, hand on her stomach, body melting against her like a sleepy wife after a long day.

Her hand wraps around my back. Soft at first. Rubbing gentle. Then lower. Then a little lower.

Then— Smack.

I jump so hard I hit the wall. “Girl!”

“What?” she smiles, innocent, like she ain’t just tried to turn me into an ice cream cone on the floor. “I was…thankin’ you.”

“For what?”

“For being so damn thick.”

I back up to the other side of the elevator, eyes wide. “Let—girl, get away from me.”

BG just leans back with her arms crossed, smiling like she just won a trophy.

“Once again. I’ve done absolutely nothing.”

The doors ding open and I sprint out. Like full stride. Crocs slapping, towel flying behind me like a cape.

She laughs and chases after me, barefoot with wet hair, calling my name through the hallway like we ain’t supposed to be professionals.

“Y/N—stop runnin’, damn!”

“Nope! Not after that ass grab. I need space. You disrespectful.”

“Baby, come onnnn!”

The hall lights flicker past as I take a sharp left, barely getting my keycard out before she catches me around the waist and spins me right into the hotel door. Her arms caged around me, lips brushing my ear, breath warm.

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs, voice low. “Lemme make it up to you.” I turn around slow, panting, and hoodie damp, staring up at her.

“…You know you not sorry.”

She just grins. “You right. But I am still hungry.”

I gasp. “BRITTNEY—”

The next morning We looked a mess.

My hoodie was stretched, one sleeve halfway inside out. BG had on a random team shirt I don’t even think belonged to her. Her bun was lopsided.

I had a hickey on my jaw the size of a credit card. Neither of us had earrings on. And both our slides were mismatched, like we’d gotten dressed during a fire drill.

We walked into the gym dead silent, holding coffee cups and shame.

Well—I held shame. Brittney looked proud. Like her night went exactly how she planned it. She was even rubbing my back gently, like I was her little injured housewife or something.

“You good?” she whispered, leaning down as I yawned mid-step.

“Girl, shut up. Don’t talk to me.”

She grinned into her straw. “You still mad I smacked it twice?”

“…You smacked it four times.”

“Damn. My bad.” She wasn’t sorry.

Coach spotted us immediately. His eyes squinted. Took in the matching sluggish gait, the way she kept massaging my shoulder, the very obvious bruise peeking above my collar. He stared for a second longer than usual. Sipped his coffee.

Then sighed.

“Y’all lucky I stopped giving a damn.”

I blinked. BG sipped her drink.

He turned back to his clipboard and mumbled, “Get on the line when y’all done pretending y’all not married.”

Brittney leaned down, whispered with a smirk, “You wanna stretch or…”

I turned, dead in the face.

“You touch me again and I will hit you with a basketball.”

“Still worth it,” she grinned, jogging off like she ain’t got no damn sense.

We never took it serious. But it always felt real. Like it wasn’t just a situationship. Or a fling. It was just us. Effortless. Dumb. Nasty. Loving. Wrong in some ways. Right in all the ones that mattered.

We wouldn’t change a thing.

@letsnowtalk @draculara-vonvamp @kcannon-1436-blog @let-zizi-yap @perksofbeingatrex @soapyonaropey @julieluvspb @non3ofurbusiness @kcannon-1436-blog @kaliblazin @liloandstitchstan @footy-lover264 @yorubagirlsworld @daffodil-darlings @h4untedghOul @followthesvn @hibiscusblu @sevikasleftbicep @swiftie4evr @babyphatbrat @sivensblog @beeop223 @huntedghOul @tpwkrosalinda @lightsgore @em-nems @salemsuccss @villain-ryuk @ihrtsarahstrOng @liyahh037 @sillystarv @somedetailsinthefabric @essence-134340 @mochelisgf @soph1asticated @heheievidbri @unvswrld @breezybellab @planet-ghoulborne @art-ofmusic @toorealrai

[laurrelise]

finally started reading sunrise on the reaping and here are my thoughts so far :))

oh my GOD oh my god what the HELL oh my FUCKING GOD my GOD holy SHIT what the HELL i was not PREPARED i am in devastation i will never be ok again don’t talk to me i am in pain

[d8tl55c]

[wardingshout]

Hi I just wanted to say your art is so gorgeous and I’m obsessed with your colours- do you just eyeball it when colour picking or do you have certain palette you stick to?

hi! thank you so much I'm really happy to hear you like it ! :D

I talked about it a little bit the other day but yeah I think the tldr is a bit of both! it's either something like just trial and error (the example is not all too important but this ask made me remember I do have a bit of examples saved haha. I also do a lot of colour picking from previous pieces here bc I was doing a set at the time and I enjoy reusing colours for consistency within pieces or sets!) or I use a palette and pick from there.

I think both have their merits, like I find using a palette to be a lot easier and faster and sometimes more fun, but the limitations uuh idk definitely feel like limitations sometimes! I think I might eventually make my own edits to the tegaki palette and use that as a base, bur I'm also careful of not falling into that as a permanent habit. I like the colours I get from it but I don't want to fall into the habit of never making my own choices if that makes sense! but yeah I definitely mostly just fuck around and find out! :)

speaking of fucking around and finding out here's an old doodle where I fucked around and found out!

again thank you <3

[norgeant]

"Ah yes. Me. My boyfriend. And his F1 contact for the next couple of years at least"

Max fewtrell can relate to this exact situation

[kalosian-woods]

I know I already sent one but. The Bonds of Mega Evolution. The flower arranging scene but from Serena’s perspective. I beg of you. Her thoughts on being praised over Ash and Korrina who are everything she admires. Mabel’s analyses. I have so many thoughts -W-

(ps I had to do this one because my mind would not let go even through my busy day, but dw i'm still filling out the other asks + extra dw because i love this one and i can go for maybe 1 more extras from others as well if yall want... might just take a while lol but i'd rather pace myself with these and build up my writing rather than rush)

The flowerfields of Pomice Mountain were so incredibly pretty it was almost unreal in its ethereality, like a delicate watercolour painting set up in the most protected portion of Lumiose Museum and protected from human hands.

Serena looked behind her, noting the… very long distance that they made on their own legs. Well, that she made on two legs, considering how Fennekin was still a little finnicky about tracking mud sometimes. Letting the fox down, she crouched on the tip of her toes and smiled as she watched her partner frolic in the flowers. “I'm glad you like it, Fennekin!”

Coming up here was a good choice. No doubt that the likes of Ash and Korrina would travel far, but not even they would come all the way up here for a few flowers. And if Serena really wanted to impress Mabel, she had to make sure that her bouquet was as unique as can be!

Fennekin yipped at her after coming back from her moment of exploration, tail wagging happily. A small giggle came out of Serena’s mouth then as she picked out a few petals that stuck to the Pokemon’s ear. “Found something you like?”

“Fenne!” It didn’t hurt that she had Fennekin by her side. That fox was a master at ordering things, and Serena started to defer most organising details (that are doable by Pokemon) to her fuzzy little friend. It was fun and nice and such a big help to have Fennekin go through the Pokepuff ingredients, especially now as there were more tastes to account for (and more bellies to fill); just as much as there was the need to track down lost clothing blown off the clothing line or what flowers to use for their flower crowns. Fennekin started to trot forward, mouth split in a wide and toothy grin as she rounded the small hill with Serena at her heels.

Serena kept pace, letting her gaze rove over the magnificent landscape. She couldn’t believe all of her friends would want to leave this place as soon as possible: it was almost an insult to the natural beauty blooming all around them. Sure, they were here to help Korrina and Lucario master Mega Evolution, but that didn’t mean that they couldn’t relax and have some fun on the way.

Nothing was a waste of time, including now.

And breathing in the fresh mountain air, Serena couldn’t imagine it to be any other way.

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·. 

There was a certain type of aura that can be sensed when it comes to ikebana.

With the bright and showy demonstrations, Mabel can already see the youth that shone brightly in all of her new wards—even the scientific young lad had that spark of childishness that was separate to what his Chespin had. Moving across the room, she shook her head; it didn’t matter if they nailed the technique for flower-arranging as it was.

Even though she was expecting Gurkinn’s granddaughter Mabel had opened her door to all of Korrina’s friends, and so, she would judge them all equally.

“Haha, d’you like it? I tried my best with Pikachu, but then a Ursaring came outta nowhere and started chasing me for picking some of—”

Ash was a spirited fellow, for certain. Some may say that danger followed him, as she had heard from the group’s late-night talks, but Mable thought differently. Was it relevant to his bond with his partner Pokemon? If it were Pikachu, certainly not—their joint work showed a sort of oiled-quickness to their every move, every kink that was possible ironed out for the most part. But still… there was a certain kind of disconnect between the pair: the tall and towering flowers alongside the more bushier and stout ones were telling in their own way. Ash longed for height, for growth, for greatness beyond everything he’s ever known. Pikachu wants the same, but there was some distance between that primal urge that were bared with every cut-up petal and splintered wood. She internally filed those observations and moved forward, coming to face a very vibrant display by a very familiar face doing a very unfamiliar pose: bowing.

“How do you like our work now, madame?”

Mabel chuckled once, using her cane to nudge up Korrina’s chin. There was no need for her to flatten her pride now, not without cause. Appraising the work, she can see some improvement this time—at least the plants used weren’t from two completely different fields this time. She gave a surreptitious look towards Lucario, who let out a surprised bark before turning away, and Mabel grinned. Of course, youth rarely liked to be challenged, and this young lady was still desperately scrabbling for some approval. The Lucario too. It’s clear that there is much work to be done in regard to the two of them, but at least they are moving a little closer to the true intent of the activity here, and that’s what counts for today. Refocusing lens takes time, after all.

“I’m so sorry, I was working on the Little Flower Arranger 2.55—”

“Why’s it called that?”

“Ash, let him finish!”

Mabel sighed good-naturedly as she looked around Clemont’s waist to the creation that he made alongside Chespin while the rambling flowed on above her. Normally, she would expect a Grass-Type to know their plants, but she was sorely mistaken when the other day Chespin had contracted a rash from sleeping on some poison ivy. Clemont seemed to balance out his Pokemon well with his worried nature, but they have yet to learn how to cater to both without leaving one side wanting, which could be expected if one knew of his adolescent Gym Leader status and focused Typing. Today seemed to be more of a Clemont-day, with the machine’s smoking remains blowing up a small portion of flowers and leaving the ground smoky and charred. At least he had some extras on hand to fill up the empty space—she can appreciate readiness whenever it appears, in all of its forms.

“Hey, look, Dedenne! It’s our turn now!”

Bonnie may be too young to be a Trainer yet, but she held some very interesting insights alongside the Pokemon of her choice. Their bouquets always held the most changes and variation, with some surprises being found around whenever they came back with their flowers. Yesterday was a freshly plucked Budew that they played around with while waiting for her to come around. Today seemed to be the pebbles that they arranged in a smiley face on top of the soil, with both of them mirroring the face. It was a very charming attempt, and if the group wasn’t on a quest for Korrina’s sake, Mabel might’ve indulged in her own desire to work with her as it was. The difference between this young girl and her brother was as clear as night and day, and yet, there were always the one clue (straight stalks this time). Patting the child’s head, she moved onto the final stop.

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·. 

Serena held her breath next to Fennekin, heart pattering in her chest as she held her hands in front of her. It was her turn to present their work of art, and bearing her and Fennekin’s heart to someone so critical… it was a lot different than just running around in the fields and doing whatever they wanted.

It felt like being on a stage.

Terrifying… and yet, exhilarating as well.

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·. 

As usual, a bright smattering of gold and crimson in her work. Serena was different to the others, as she didn’t strive for big or showy or even imitations of famous works from long ago. Her creations always were related to something around her—the rainy sky yesterday, the Pokemon battle on the first day the group came, and today, it seemed to be based on Fennekin itself. It’s clear that the Pokemon approved of it with the bite marks on some of the stems, but there were signs of a human hand plucking some of the flowers as well. While both Pokemon and person shared similarities, there was a focus with the delegation of each task—finding the flower, placing it, arranging it. It was unique. It was the product of them, with the skills they both displayed.

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·. 

“Wonderful and in sync,” Mabel murmured, too quiet for anyone but the two of them to hear.

Serena’s breath caught, and her right hand slowly rested on her chest as Fennekin shot a triumphant look towards Chespin’s dour face.

With two claps of her hand, Mabel called out, “Good work as always, everyone! See you all tomorrow!” and it was all Serena could do to stop herself from jumping up with a shout.

The first time she actually got praise, before Korrina or even Ash. It felt… thrilling, to know that she can surpass them in this way. In her own way.

Grabbing Fennekin, she quickly made her way out of the doors before she shared a conspiratorial giggle with her partner.

[werewire-petrichor]

i CANNOT get past the final boss in chapter 4 and i refuse to engage with posts abt d-ltarune for fear of like. story spoilers. ive read a couple reddit threads on strategies i just SUCK at bullet hells and I'm gonna lose it

[4giorno]

oh yeah, haul!!!!

[yume-fanfare]

decorated this the other day, yaaaayyy

[todayisafridaynight]

brother was talking to me about how if you almost die from an extreme-temperature-related incident then your body is just forever fucked towards that temperature and that's why i think kiryu and saejima are weak to ice. i dont know why aoki isn't like that too but ignore that statistic everything else tracks.

[blackbutler-readerinsertsandjunk]

me, after staying an hour at work and coming home to a too-steamy bathroom and a freshly showered little brother: me: so... this is the thanks I get for working overtime my inner William: OVERTIME?!?!?!?!

[zoekrystall]

"Quick edit" I say and end up spending way too long on it. Bc of the palette was I not sure if I give the top color.

Natural/irl hair and eye color version which idk if I'll use.

[souls-page]

Page 55

“Sunny…!” Sunny heard it, even under the rubble the sound of her lovers voice reached her, it always seemed to–it never mattered what the situation was somehow someway Nol always reached her

Everything hurts, and in front of her the systems blinks, flashing dark red and white, in big letters “Losing too much blood, losing strength, losing stamina” all in their own boxes, sunny closes her eyes the light getting too much

She opens her mouth, to try and say something “Sunny!! Please!! Where are you?!” she hears again, and she moves some rocks falling to the side but one big one stops her from doing anything drastic

She ends up sputtering blood, the system windows blink harsher, but she’s learned to ignore them, she always has now in one box in particular “Aurora and Phaeton look at you worriedly”

She closes her eyes and wills her body, she hears Nols voice coming closer, in her head she says over and over again, “i’m here, i’m here, i’m here”

[screambirdscreaming]

oh I like this game!

beaver/canada goose

wood duck/muskrat

cormorant/river otter

osprey/fisher

.....

quail/chipmunk

porcupine/sage grouse

.....

WHALEBATROSS

It annoys me unreasonably when you want to ask people "what bird and what mammal would make the worst gryphon" as a fun thought exercise, and people with no joy and no imagination always interpret it as "a gryphon that sucks, is physically impossible, and would hate being alive", and - being predictable and lacking in imagination - always, always answer with "a hummingbird and a blue whale lol".

Like come on. Why do you have to suck the fun out of everything. Why not use a fraction of imagination and delightful whimsy. Imagine the combination of a mouse and a sparrow. That creature would be merciless, burtal, absolutely determined to get into your trash and has the power of both wings and hands to do its will. Or a crow and a cat - that thing is smart enough to fuck with people and not afraid to do it. Imagine the ungodly shriek of the noble fox-seagull, also determined to get into your trash.

A gryphon that is a combination of a kangaroo and a cassowary. The only proof we have of a loving god is the fact that those things do not exist. If hell is real, it's full of them. That thing can't fly, but it will run you down, it will kill you, and you will look stupid the whole entire time you're dying.

Why would the first thing that pops into your mind at the words "the worst gryphon" automatically be "a gryphon that hates being alive". Can you not picture a gryphon that fucking loves being alive, and has both the power and the will to make it everyone else's problem.