#irxnmaiden

[spikemuthtoothfairy]

[mysterydungecn]

Starter for @irxnmaiden

Jasmine would awaken in a swirl of color. There were so many colors, as far as the eye could see. Oranges, blues, reds yellows greens browns magentas cyans, even colors Jasmine never saw before, mixing, melding, swirling together in every direction.

There was no ground beneath her, yet she wasn’t falling. She was floating through the rainbow void, slowly, to a bright light in the distance.

A Voice rang out.

“Hello!”

“This is the portal to the world of Pokemon!”

“Before I can let you through, though, I’d like you to answer a few questions for me.” “Are you ready? Then let’s begin!”

“What is your favorite type of music?”

“If you could visit anywhere in your world, where would you go?”

“How do you handle high expectations?”

“What is a memory that you treasure?”

“Has what ‘home’ means to you changed over the years?”

“A friend of yours is very sick, and the only medicine is far away. Do you seek out the medicine, or stay by their side?”

“Someone close to you has to go somewhere far away, and you don’t know if they’ll return. What is the last thing you say to them?”

“What does being a gym leader mean to you?”

“What is something you don’t think you could ever leave behind?”

“What are Pokemon to you?”

[tapuhauko]

@irxnmaiden asked:

The northwestern seas off the coasts of Akala—typically a destination for relaxation, but not on this occasion. It took simply one phone call before Jasmine left her position on Alto-Mare, traveling by plane for hours and hours on end, restlessly preoccupied with the news she'd received.

I just hope he's alright...

Navigating hospital wings is nothing new for a caregiver like Jasmine, though that doesn't settle her heartbeat any less. She's genuinely worried—Hau has been through so much in his life, far more than what was fair for anyone, let alone someone with such a spirit that inspires happiness in all those blessed to know him.

It doesn't take long for her to locate his room, bouquet in hand, along with a tote filled with an assortment of things she can only help will bring Hau comfort. She shadows the doorframe, knocking gently as to not disturb him by her sudden appearance.

"Knock knock," her voice is low, floor-level almost, entering the room one delicate step at a time. "I... had to come, as soon as I heard. How are– are you feeling any better...?"

Hau was suprised by how many people would drop their things to simply visit them in the hospital. Of course he was grateful, but he felt a little guilty nonetheless.

At hearing Jasmine's voice near the door, they perk up, turning to face her. "Come in!" They tried their best to seem their usual, peppy self, but it was clear from a single glance at them that they were still in pain and highly uncomfortable. His arms were still looking awful, with purple splotches prominent. As much as he wanted to hide them under the blankets, they had told him to keep them out in the open as much as possible for now.

"Sorry, I can't wave right now... Uhm. They got me in the arms, stomach and upper legs. Been stuck in this bed for a few days now. The pain's slowly getting better, though I'm on anti-biotics right now." As much as they had speedy healing nowadays, it seemed to not function against Poison-type stuff at all. Might even work slower...

"Thank you for coming over so soon. Can use all the distractions I can get right now."

[invictarre-archive]

pros of becoming a brandt-muriell: supportive family! leon is your relative now! you always have someone to turn to in times of crisis!

cons of becoming a brandt-muriell: the family is growing daily. you go to one (1) reunion and there's like a thousand people present. red is there. james is there. their wives have been invited, also. leon and dani are there. allister is there. 99% of almia's past and present ranger population is there. you know no one. hop's cramorant is busy stuffing its beak w/ whatever small pokemon it can find and hoping no one notices. leon's sylveon is stealing food off people's plates while gengar snatches cutlery. quagsire's taking up the whole couch while he facetimes his bro, his buddy, his best friend guzma. it's pure chaos and you've only been there ten minutes.

[orremancy]

what inspired balthazar to pursue the film industry? what were some of his biggest inspirations growing up? c:

"Ah! A most interesting question indeed. Wherefore from did my passion spring? I cannot truly say! Film has always been apart of my life, though if I am forced to pick through a select few that inspire my craft..."

A flourish of a hand.

"Look no further than the works of Hitchcock, Lucio Fulci, Carpenter and Argento! All hold an eye for the dramatic, understanding the simple truth that practical effects are a neccesity for one to truly ground themselves in the story you attempt to tell! It is my dream to one day stand alongside them as a great, to etch my name in cinematic history!"

[mtsilvermute]

26, 30, and 34!

90 loaded questions | Accepting!

Red's Journal - 7/20/2022

I am online-shopping for therapists again. This is wishful thinking; manifestation, even, as the likelihood that I will find a therapist worth trusting is lower than that of Focus Blast connecting. I understand that my distrust of therapeutic connection is rooted in old data at this point, but it's easier to tend to a fresh wound than it is to remove a stain.

The dialectics are as follows: My mother and my younger self were both tired of hearing therapists beg me to speak, socialize, or surrender the habits and behaviors that my mother saw as essential to me. Her exhaustion grew with each visitation until she decided to call it quits. Then, back in 2021, I had my first therapist visit in thirteen years. I knew the moment that I walked in that I was doing something for which I wasn't ready, though the journal entry following our meeting places the blame unfairly on the therapist rather than myself, a stance which I now retract. But I stand by the fact that I don't feel valued by any professional that sees my characteristics as quirks to be overcome. That same therapist—who lasted one visit before I declined further meetings—couldn't help but ask why I haven't made more concerted efforts to change.

The truth is that I feel like I know myself a little too well to need a therapist at this point. My mother and my Pokémon provide enough support as they are. Even more importantly, I feel that my life is more comfortable the less that people try to decipher it: People are more likely to accept me at face value if all they know is my reputation. My mother would say I've accomplished so much because of who I am; the professionals would counter "in spite of"; and everyone else would say nothing at all, because they have no reason to interject. I like a lack of interjection, intervention—interaction, even. Though I still wonder at times if I'm doing things right. I just want the validation that I'm normal, that I can exist in this world without requisite reform. The sad truth is that only within the confines of my own fame do I really feel realized.

This is not to say that I truly care for pushback, however. I've had incidents in which my needs for accommodation or understanding have been rejected—whether incidentally or explicitly—and it hurts. It hurts to have your movement through the world be violently ruptured and demeaned. But beyond these incidental moments of ableist impact, I can't say I've ever been robbed of the experiences that matter. I simply need the world to support and understand me. If the world does and still says no to my desires, I have no choice but to listen. (This is me convincing myself to close the tab on the telecom-therapist list.)

Now that I'm reading these paragraphs back an hour later, I've come to the conclusion that there is more to life than either contemplating my faults or hearing that "the world isn't a silent film" (to paraphrase). And any incidental moments of insensitivity to my so-called quirks barely tip the brim-filled bucket I call my self-confidence. These are the kinds of things you supposedly learn in therapy, dressed up in takes about how you're holding yourself back by avoiding verbal communication. But perhaps I should abide by my own rules, and let the life I've led do the talking after all.

[redlegend-a]

✎!!

[pidgeyatto-a]

@irxnmaiden​ continued from ( here! )

As soon as the text comes in asking for clarification on what exactly he needs help with, Falkner’s fingers hover over the keypad of his pokegear, and he has a hard time trying to word exactly what his predicament is.

Um...

He begins typing, his eyes on the screen. 

I’m not quite sure how it managed to find it’s way to Johto. Perhaps a trainer from the region it originates from released it here, for some reason, but... 

Falkner can feel the eyes of the pokemon in question staring up at him, his tail wagging a million miles a minute. He tears his gaze away from the pokegear, gazing down at the small puppy pokemon looking up at him with wide, curious eyes. He barks, and Falkner jumps, not expecting it to vocalize at him.

There is a yamper here. It refuses to leave my side.