"It's alright."

[sarostheghostcat]

im in the my friends ocs fandom

[disgustinggf]

sharing music is so intimate like i'm gonna be thinking about u every time a song u showed me comes on

[primulaceas]

Gabriela Mistral, from a letter to Doris Dana c. January 1950 (translated by Velma García-Gorena)

[antihibikase]

🐩🐇 Explorers of Sky : Mutualism

Descante is a Houndour, while Slater is a Buneary!

Descante is the partner character, while Slater is the playable character- story-wise, despite being the player character, the partner is actually the “chosen” one; you just happen to have a special ability and connection to the plot that make you important, but ultimately, it’s the partner that’s the hero.

Descante used to be trained by a legendary explorer, Achroma (there is actually a Scizor ingame that’s referred to as such), who has long disappeared and left Descante to fend for himself. Don’t know what happened to him yet, but he’s probably traveling with Nikolai, a shiny Gardevoir.

The plot is essentially just Explorers of Skies except with the occasional spqpverse + BlightBlur cameos, but they’re Pokemon.

The difference is that the Grovyle ingame (a major character relating to the player) is replaced by a Zororak, which is Giima. Normally, EOS only has Gens 1-4 Pokemon, but. He can be Zoroark here, as well as to make him seem more suspicious (at first).

When Slater dies/disappears, Descante evolves in his absence. When Slater comes back, Descante and Slater find out he can’t evolve, so they go through the post-game plot to figure out why.

Also, through the same deus ex machina that brings Slater back to life, Giima comes back to life too. He’s not an explorer like them, and he settles somewhere nearby to keep an eye out for the both of them.

[kuromi-hoemie]

this is me

[wedbcutetoget-her]

"I want a life with you."

[janacademia]

a melt into each other type of love

[aseaofquotes]

Mikel Jollett, Hollywood Park

[antihibikase2]

His strange flowers had been blooming wonderfully as of late, pretty pink petals catching the eye of anyone that passes by.

Though many had offered, it felt wrong to put a price on his blessing- so he prompted to give one flower for anyone that asked, hoping to share his happiness.

It was the job of a florist, after all.

Descante looked up from his book and into the field before him, watching Slater tend to the flowers with the aid of his Manaphy.

He places his open book down on a surface, walking over to the sea of pink in an attempt to reach out for Slater- but he feels something warm and wet prodding against his ankle.

Looking down, he spots an unfamiliar, round Pokemon on its feet, its back formed like a shrub. The same pink flowers were attached to its body.

Curious, Descante picks it up- and makes his way to Slater as he shows him his brand new discovery.

As Slater gasps and coos over the cute new Pokemon in Descante's arms, the spring breeze flips through the pages of Descante's old book, until it lands on a page covered in fading ink, the scribbles of a desperate traveler in search of a miracle.

In the page, the familiar flower is displayed, red ink circling over it.

Gracidea, a flower of gratitude.

Though this elusive flower has been found to bloom in Sinnohan soil, many researchers debate the authenticity this photograph, and the existence of the flower at all. Samples brought back by the researchers who discovered this flower were found to have shriveled and died the moment they were picked.

Important. Must find.

[aseaofquotes]

[weltenwellen]

Hanif Abdurraqib, They Can't Kill Us Until They Kill Us

[orpheuslament]

dumb little stanza that didnt make the cut for the poem im currently writing but i thought you guys might like anyway

[antihibikase2]

Request a drabble using this prompt list!

The cold winter air brushes against Descante's cheek.

Though reason may tell him to turn on his heel and swallow what was left of his pride, he refused to step back into the warmth of the house- not after such a heated argument.

He's caught up in his thoughts, messy and unorganized, to hear the crunching of snow from behind him.

"-scante, Descante,"

He slows his pace to a halt, just by a streetlamp. Slater stops just behind him- he can feel it.

The coldness he exudes is different. It's soft, inviting.

Safe.

Tension leaves his shoulders- and he turns around.

Through his fogged glasses, he sees Slater in his fluffy gray coat, covered head to toe like a Cinccino; the only thing that stood out was the bright red scarf he held in his gloved hands.

A red scarf, knitted with a ball of Destiny Knot- that's what Slater had been doing before the argument broke out.

What it was about, it was long forgotten- all that mattered was Slater's shivering body and his cold breath.

"You, ah, forgot your scarf-"

He doesn't slouch, but rather, he kneels on the sidewalk, like a knight to his prince.

Slater hastily wraps the scarf around his neck, his finger brushes against Descante's cheek- he couldn't feel it.

"Are you alright?"

"..it's hard to describe what I'm feeling at the moment," He takes Slater's hand on his cheek, cupping it with both his palms. "But-"

The fire of the white dragon courses through his body, his cross to bear.

But, if any goodness could come out of his suffering, he hoped it would be this.

"I'll be okay. I promise."

[antihibikase2]

Request a drabble using this prompt list!

He seeks beyond the truth- perfection.

His entire existence weighed on that fateful battle at the castle.

He was built to win; if he had lost, all that he's sacrificed would be for naught.

He learned that the hard way. The scars and burns he sustained from the white dragon were proof.

He's spent so long hiding in his shame, desperately clawing for a way out of the hell he had created for himself- and if he tried, he could go back to a time where he had it all, where he didn't play such dangerous games.

Back to when things were as perfect as it could be.

With a bottle of Dream Mist, he planned to do just that- only to meet eyes that, in another timeline, could have been his own.

He chooses to pretend, until eventually, the mask melts into his skin.

Once, he may have fought tooth and nail for a way out, to allow himself to fall into the mercy of a false god in an attempt to reach for victory.

Now, he is content with what he has; even if he had to sully his hands once more to get a result that he deemed-

"It's not perfect."

He tells himself in the mirror daily, amidst the morning chatter.

It could never be perfect.

But he takes what he gets without a complaint; a hungry dog cannot choose to be a beggar.

"You've already lost- so you might as well grieve and move on."

His reflection looks less like a beast, his dragon-like features morphing away until he resembled the person he was before the tournament- lanky, awkward, yet harmless.

"Descante,"

Behind his glasses, he could see his own eyes- tired, glassy, but brimming with a sense of newfound hope.

And from the mirror, he sees someone approach, wrapping their arms around him in a loving embrace.

"Good morning!"

It may never be perfect; but he would be a fool to think of this as anything less than a blessing.

[antihibikase2]

A day in the life of a florist is uneventful- but it has its charms.

He wakes early to wash and cook rice before he feeds his beloved Pokemon and water his indoor plants.

As soon as he's done with those two tasks, he makes himself a simple breakfast- often, it's an egg and half a slice of a Tamato berry, with whatever pickled vegetables he's stored in his fridge.

It's a quiet routine- but it gets the job done.

He doesn't ask for more.

Once he's done, his Pokemon assist with the rest of the house chores as he gets ready- Azumarill does the dishes, Minccino sweeps the floor, and Cherrim, invigorated by the morning sun, gathers his things for the store downstairs.

He's in the middle of filling up his gardening pail when there's a knock at the door.

"I'll get it."

He tells his Pokemon- they continue work as usual without too much of a fuss.

He doesn't know how to react when he opens the door, and a ghost of a man he used to know stands before him.

His Wailmer pail clatters to the floor, the water spilling- and he sees it stain the other's cotton shoes.

The sight before him was not a phantom- those tired eyes behind those glasses were the same as they were two years ago.

"I'm-"

Descante had always struggled with what to say beyond ink on paper.

But he doesn't need to get another word out- not when Slater wraps his arms around his neck, standing on his tiptoes as he sobs, face buried on his shoulder.

A day in the life of a florist is uneventful- but it has its miracles.

[antihibikase2]

Request by @psqe!

Slender figures delicately brush away the hair sticking to the other's skin, while the other hand remains on his cheek, pressed down on a cotton towel.

Minccheri scampers off to fetch a change of clothes from Descante's briefcase- they hadn't had time to unpack ever since they arrived at Verdanturf.

"Your father," Descante mumbles something under his breath as he removes his glasses- one of the lenses had cracked. "Woke me up at four in the morning to take me to a fishing trip."

Slater hums, listening as he wrings out the water from the other's hair.

"Fishing- where did you fish, exactly?"

"Um, we drove down the neighboring routes, passed by Mauville-"

"He took you down to Route 118?"

"Route 123," The other corrected.

"That's- that's near Mt. Pyre!"

"It was, um, a long trip. And a long trek back here. Not as long, we-"

"You fell off the boat," Slater frowns. "And Giima had his Honchrow help you out. He can't swim."

"Neither can I."

"Same here,"

Minccheri returns with an article of clothing- Slater gives it an affectionate pat as thanks, before it scampers off to find a pair of pants.

"It's alright," Descante reassures. "We caught plenty of fish. Your father said we'd be grilling them later-"

"I better be a part of that activity," Slater grumbles. "He takes you out for fishing, but not me?"

"Oh, it's-"

"Kidding," The frown is replaced with a calm, understanding smile. "Dad's a little overprotective, still. I see why he thought, um, dragging you out there was a good idea. Test of character, I think."

"I understand."

"You always do,"

He pulls his hands away. Perhaps Decante could dry much faster under the morning sun- or perhaps, Slater needed to ask his mother if they had a hair blower in the house.

"It's his own way of welcoming you. You know how it is,"

He hands him the shirt- it was from an indie concert in Virbank, one they had both went to.

They could match later.

"And Mt. Pyre is a sacred place- that's where my grandmother was laid to rest. I think he wanted to introduce you to them too."

A fuzzy feeling blooms in Descante's chest, despite how hard he was shivering.

"Still, he could have gotten about it better-" He glances outside the window. "-and as usual, Giima and dad are arguing about it. I think mama doesn't take it seriously anymore."

He chuckles.

"Your family is lively," Descante says, a small smile on his lips. "Thank you for introducing me to them."

"Of course," Slater smiles back. "Thank you for coming to this trip with me. I know it must have been difficult, finding a babysitter for the dogs at home-"

Descante slips on the shirt. "They'll be fine."

"They would- Madeleine might miss Minccheri, though."

Just in time, Minccheri scampers back to the room with a pair of sweatpants- Descante reaches out to them, thanking him, only for Minccheri to hiss at him and scamper off again somewhere.

"She does, Miss Mochizuki sent a video of her whining. She's cuddling the toy they share."

"Poor girl. Let's make sure to get her and the others a surprise,"

Descante hums.

He looks at himself in the tall mirror of Slater's bedroom, the one he grew up in.

"There, you look at home already!" Slater beams. "You should go downstairs. Mama will fix you something warm to drink,"

"And you?"

"I'll fix the beds- and unpack our things, Minccheri's probably made a mess of things."

"I'll unpack with you."

"Hm? But-"

Descante doesn't wait for him to try to argue with him- not like Slater was winning this anyway.

"Besides, it won't look good if I let you do all the work, no?"

Slater ponders for a moment- and he agrees.

"Dad might make you do something much worse, yeah," He chuckles. "Okay, let's do it."

[antihibikase2]

Even in his sleep, he can't escape the weight of his sins.

The smell of smoke overwhelms his senses as elegant white wings sprout from his back, ripping apart the flesh and bones, mangling his body to that of the dragon's.

As he falls from the sky, his claws reaches out to the sun.

And when he clenched his hand into a fist, he's back in his bed, fingers intertwined with someone else's.

A cool hand is pressed against his forehead, skin hot and sticky with sweat.

"It's alright, it's alright," The other hushes. "Your fever is subsiding bit by bit,"

Through his tear stained eyes and the strands of hair covering his face, he sees a serene and sympathetic smile, one that could only belong to an angel.

"It was just a dream," Slater brings Descante's hand up, placing another hand on top of it- his skin was pleasantly cool against his. "You're safe here."

His throat is dry and he's too caught up in the aftermath of his nightmare to say a word- but he mouths a "thank you" to the other, and Slater beams.

"It's nothing, really," He shakes his head. "Let's turn your pillow on the other side before you go back to bed, okay?"

Then, his stomach growls.

If Slater had a pair of fluffy ears rested atop his head like a Lopunny or Audino, they would have perked up at such a sound- but he doesn't, and his laugh is the only way Descante notices that Slater heard how hungry the other was.

"You didn't eat much at all today.. do you have an appetite now?"

He does a gesture in-between a nod and a shake of his head.

Slater understands. He always does.

"I'll make something light and warm. You should eat first before you go back to bed- oh, and do you want some warm milk? We still have some, I think,"

Milk sounded nice right about now- so he nods.

"Okay, okay! Good! I'll get your food-"

But Descante's hand was still clasped against his, refusing to let go- like the paw of a needy Lillipup.

And, without hesitating like he had in his dreams, he pulls the other close for a tight hug.

He didn't want to risk it earlier, lest the other catch his cold.

But in his dreams, before he plummets from the heavens, his hesitation leads to the demise of the other, body bubbling into seafoam.

Slater didn't need to know how much Descante feared to lose him- or he probably already knew, and kept quiet.

Regardless, he wraps his arms around his partner with a smile, humming his Relic Song to soothe his worries.

"We can stay like this for awhile too, would you like that?"

Voice hoarse, Descante speaks.

"I'd like that very much."