#maybe someday i will post it

[keiraspades]

pla hc no.21

damn its been a hot minute

ANYWHORES

Akari gives off PA vibes. Like,, Bitchy assistant who doesn’t like the job but loves the pay™️

And she loves seeing people squirm

she loves it.

She loves watching volo panic as he realizes that he never told her about that myth.

She loves watching Ingo stare off as she goes on about Trains and ghost/fire pokemon(see hc 11) and he wonders how she knows about that.

Akari knows things she shouldn’t.

So, at the Temple of Sinnoh Battle against Kamado, she smiles. It’s not kind, and it is filled with teeth. It holds specks of blood, and a manic giddiness behind. Akari smiles while she seethes, and speaks.

“For one who has outlived his village, you sure are underestimating those who can keep all of their people accounted for.”

And Kamado freezes. Kamado gives Akari an opening. Not one she needed, but one that made things quite fast.

“Whisp, Focus Blast.”

And she took his last pokemon.

His snorlax, down with one move.

He stared, and broke out with a gasp, “how?”

Akari smiled.

She turned away, and walked into the temple.

She knew what the others wouldn’t, and what they couldn’t acknowledge she remembered, and she listened.

She listened to the dead, to the overworked employees of Yveltal, and she learned.

She learned the whispers of the betrayed, and the screams of the forgotten.

Akari wouldn’t forget.

Akari would continue for them.

She would force whoever she needed to back into place, and keep this Arceus forsaken continent alive and well.

Because she owed it.

She owed it to the boss, to Yveltal itself, and she paid her dues, playing the role of a sassy kid who knew.

She would always know, as her deal stated.

Know the faces, know what was learned, know what hasn’t been discovered, and know what has and hasn’t happened no matter what.

All she had to do, was perform a job for Arceus.

And she’ll be damned if she doesn’t make it fun.

[bookshelfpassageway]

yknow i dont go here but sometimes i gotta go: seriously respect clowns. they have the worst pop culture representation in the world and also the best most thorough honor code. they're just here to be silly little guys who bring joy and are very conscientious about doing so responsibly. let them to their merriment in peace you dont hafta take potshots. i dont go here but like maybe i should, you all seem super chill

[gerrykeay]

im not putting this post into words. beams into your mind The Parallels

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[cybervom1t]

photobooth is so fun y'all omg <3

[voldheart]

i just think its really funny how the only way we can enter the room with the maggot siblings is through breaking a wall like. how did they get in there???

[meatexe]

born 2 simp 🧸

[merry-the-cookie]

few days late but happy birthday all might 🥹💖

[sotanghonn]

[bunsqueakz]

I’ve done this months ago, little pyro headcanon about the red and blu pyro visions

[fauxbia]

Okay!!! Finally (Finally, this has been months in the making and redone several times) I made a lineup of my Iterator designs!!! They're done and I'm really happy with them.

Misc headcanons under the cut

All: Asexual, Trans

Looks To The Moon: She/Her, Demiromantic Lesbian

Five Pebbles: He/Him, Greyromantic MLM

No Significant Harassment: They/Sometimes He, Aromantic

Seven Red Suns: They/Them, Demiromantic Bi

Moon and NSH are both Gen 1. NSH was Moon’s first junior and friend, and they are extremely close because of it.

Suns is early Gen 2 and was created by a particularly aesthetically inclined group, resulting in their slightly more ornate clothing.

Pebbles is put off by NSH’s humor, thinking that if they’re a Gen 1, then shouldn’t they act like it?

NSH’s humor is actually sourced from their life experience. They’re relatively comfortable with themself and know how to see the bright side in most situations. (Moon’s collapse not being one of them. They were completely devastated; even moreso once assigned Senior in her stead.)

Moon loves Pebbles and wants him to be happy and healthy. He thinks she’s too overbearing, but loves her too deep down.

[drawingcrows]

can u guess who my fav 2hu is

[keiraspades]

toying with the idea of uploading parts of my PLA AU on this account. Don't know if i should tho

[billievalentine]

Got a little too silly with the champagne! I’ve been in love with the retro clown look for so long…

♡ ig ~ iheartbillievalentine

[abiding-by-the-laws-of-color]

Team magma exclusive post

I have a lot of headcanons for them that I will someday explain maybe :]

[magicwhiskers29]

Been dwelling on this for a while now, but aro Kabru is soooooooo interesting to me

Like, he's this guy who's often called a lady killer and whatnot by his friends because of his charms, but his intentions behind those are entirely nonromantic, and he even seems to have a kind of clinical view on romance, at times.

When he smiles at people and winks, he's trying to come across as friendly and approachable, not flirty. Because he's deeply fascinated with people, but in a like, wants to study them under a microscope kind of way. His party jokes a lot about him being a hit with women, but we never see him attempt to actually romance anyone. It's his facade that he wants to use on just about everyone, because he wants to be liked so he can be close to people and be able to immerse himself in other people's lives.

A lot of people criticise him for the casual way he treats Rin, with romantic gestures, whilst his canon stance on her is that he sees her like a sister. To my knowledge, it's unclear if he knows she likes him, but this is Kabru, so it's not unreasonable to assume that he's deduced as much. And yet he kisses her just to stop her casting anyway. It's such a clinical procedure. Kabru sees it as the most efficient and safe way to stop her, so he goes for it. And yeah, they both look like monsters to each other, but he so casually kisses a girl he probably knows has romantic feelings for him who he views as just like a sister.

It's not a big deal to him because he doesn't feel that way about her. Maybe won't feel that way at all. His perspective on romance is consistently like looking through a window, just studying other people's views on it, because it doesn't mean much to him.

When he edits Mithrun's backstory for Laios, he cuts out lots of what he sees as complicated, both out of respect for preserving Mithrun's privacy, but also just to make it simple enough for Laios, who has so little interest in human matters or motivations, to understand. And he centres it on a tragic love story! He thinks that Mithrun's love for a woman, and his jealousy over his brother having her interest instead, is a good, simple core motive. Romance is just a plot device to simplify and explain Mithrun's past motivations. Romance to Kabru is just another facet of people to study, something that makes them do things, and something that paints a broader picture of them.

It's a pretty detached view. He's a very shippable guy for a lot of fans (and for a lot of characters in story too, haha) but he's also someone whose idea of romance is just another thing to be studied. He's guy who does a lot of romantic or flirty things, whilst seemingly having no interest in romance for himself at all!

He doesn't feel romantic attraction, but it fascinates him anyway

[rillils]

🌸 post-catws stucky + hug

The first tendril of want shocks him like a splash of ice-cold water poured down his spine.

Bucky doesn’t know at first – doesn’t know what, doesn’t know how. But the want is there, curled up in his chest: small, and starving, like some trembling newborn thing whose first taste of life is hunger, crying to be fed and soothed.

There’s a half-remembered feeling in the back of his mind, something he reaches for when the want aches sharp and spark-bright inside him. The word for it is short and sweet in Bucky’s mouth, so gentle it barely touches his tongue at all, all throat and soft palate: ‘hug’.

It’s a simple concept. Two arms go around one body – that’s all it takes. One step, and there it is: a hug. And Bucky imagines it vividly: his own mismatched arms around Steve, and Steve’s arms folding around him, like a circle – the shape of the infinite, of timeless things like the two of them. A line that should end, but constantly finds one more beginning instead.

He tries to see it, Steve’s broad chest brushing against his as their bodies meet, the swell of Steve’s arms enveloping him, Steve’s big palms splayed wide against his back, touching him. Gentle. Like Steve’s eyes on him are gentle; like the clasp of his hand on Bucky’s shoulder is gentle, always. So gentle, perhaps, that Bucky would hardly even feel the hug around him.

But he would take it, gentle or no. Because the truth, where it lies in the empty pit of his stomach, is that he starves for it, day after day, the want pulsing inside him with every beat of his heart. He just doesn’t know how to ask for it.

So Steve does the asking for him.

His hair is ruffled, limned with copper and wisps of gold in the late afternoon light, and his hands are unsure, nervous. But his eyes. His eyes take Bucky in, searching, urgent – and for a moment, Bucky is sure that Steve, too, must have been starving for this.

“Can I hug you?” he says, and the word sounds especially sweet when it’s Steve pronouncing it. When there’s a ‘you’ attached to it, and that one syllable becomes two, joined seamlessly together, and the new word rolls smooth and honeyed down the curl of Steve’s tongue, hug you, hug you, hug you. “Would that be okay?”

Bucky wets his lips. ‘Yes,’ he means to say, but the word that slips out of his mouth in a rasp instead says, “Please.”

So Steve gathers him close, two arms and one body and his nose buried in Bucky’s dark mop of hair, and he carves a snug space out of himself to make room for Bucky right there, his hands fisted in the back of Bucky’s shirt, their chests pressed so tight together that his heartbeat pounds behind Bucky’s ribs.

It’s not a passing touch, the fluttering echo of a hug Bucky feared he might barely feel. It’s persistent. It’s desperate. It’s a hungry little thing, a creature to be fed tenderly, steadily, so it’ll grow and live, and live.

He wraps his own arms around Steve, and grasps at him just as fiercely as his want commands, a wet exhale shuddering out of his lips to land in the crook of Steve’s neck.

He was wrong, he realizes now, framed in Steve’s embrace like a timeless work of art. He was missing a step.

A hug is a simple concept: two arms go around one body, and they hold on.