Japes And Jubilations, Pt 2

Comfort. I started this art piece sometime last year and never finished it and finally got it colored and shaded the other night. I'll probably do a Virus Moon version later and also one like my other piece where the Y/N apperence can be changed, but alas

You can download this in HD for Free on my Patreon

practice

Studying distortions from a safe distance

Hello hello! I just read your writings about Pokémon and it inspired me to make a request if that's okay!

May I request some fic with Raihan and Reader who has a team of, like, really intimidating Pokémon? But they are actually are big softies? Just a happy lil' Scolipede with a little bow munching some berries! Or even Slither Wing that crawls towards the toys like a kitten, pheh-

That's okay if you decline! Take your time, I can wait ^^

Have a good day/night!

-✒️ Anon

"C'mon, Rai! I have some friends from Paldea who are dying to meet you!"

"Oh are they, huh?" Raihan raised an eyebrow, exchanging a brief glance with his Duraludon. But they both did their best to keep up with you as you rushed to your campsite, excited.

For the first time since he's met you, he was finally going to see your main Pokémon team. You briefly mentioned having some from Paldea, but a few were from this region, as well as Kalos. Based on your history of winning lots of tournaments, Raihan could only assume you had a lot of very strong Pokémon with diverse typing to help you adapt to any situation.

You haven't battled anybody in Galar yet, so he wasn't sure what to expect. He was looking forward to today.

Upon arriving to the camp, however, he's....quite surprised.

All of your Pokémon were ones notorious for being highly aggressive and intimidating, but he quickly realized how tranquil and pacifist each of them seemed. They weren't sparring nor scowling at one another.

If anything, they acted sort of...cute?

He spotted a large Scolipede, the archnemesis of all Centiskortches...happily snacking on berries with a tiny Sizzlipede resting on their back, sharing the bowl. And amusingly enough, Raihan could see you adorned the vicious poison/bug's horn with a cute little bow, which it didn't seem to mind at all.

Then he saw a Volcarona...except it looked a lot fluffier and was crawling on all fours, its wings folded upwards like some sail. Not to mention it looked gigantic, as though it belonged to the same ancient time period as Tyrantrum and all the other fossil Pokémon.

"Is that some kind of Paldean variant?" The dragon tamer pointed to the Volcarona lookalike.

"Oh! Well..yes and no. That's my darling Slither Wing, a supposed ancestor of Volcaronas. They look scary, but they're sweet on the inside. Just watch this." Smiling, you took out the feather toy and shook it around, the tiny jingling bells making Slither Wing turn their attention to you.

With a happy chitter, they scampered over to you, before standing up on their hindlegs and towering over both you and Raihan. He jumped back with a small shriek, throwing his hands up in front of him.

"Woah what the-?!! Back up, buddy!!"

Sensing its trainer's distress, Duraludon hissed at the potential challenger.

Yet Slither Wing seemed blissfully unaware of the threat they posed, their focus being fully on the feather dangling in front of them. They gently batted it with their front paws, delighted at the jingling noise the bells made.

"Sorry." You laughed a little, feeding them a berry before setting the toy down. "They get excited easily." Then you rested a hand on their fluffy chest, to which they flopped to the ground, allowing you to rub their belly. "Awwh, who's a good Slither Wing? It's you~!"

Raihan blinked several times, awkwardly putting his hands back down as he stared at you, watching you baby this fierce-looking Volcarona. He would've thought you were talking to a Yamper or Growlithe.

Looking elsewhere, he saw a Pokémon who appeared similar to a Bisharp, except it was bulkier, resembled a samurai, and was....somehow sitting on its own hair???

Upon closer examination he could see it had some flowers in said hair, put there by the cutesy wild fairy and grass Pokémon that have gathered around it. It seemed to be telling them a story, smiling all the while...which was very unlike the serious Bisharp lineage.

You noticed where Raihan was looking and smiled, whistling for Kingambit. It glanced over and headed to you, being able to move without standing up at all.

"King?"

"Your majesty." You stood and bowed to it in respect, before turning to your friend. "Rai, this is Bisharp's final evolution, Kingambit He had to best three other Bisharps wearing leader's crests in order to evolve, so he's pretty strong."

"It took beating three?" He raised an eyebrow. "That's pretty specific. How didja figure that one out?"

"....well how did you figure out how to evolve a Galarian Yamask into Runerigus?"

"...touché." He clicked his tongue, before glancing at Kingambit again, who seemed to be admiring the flowers in its hair. Then he slowly took out his rotomphone to snap a picture of it--

"Gamb.."

Tensing, Raihan saw the dark/steel type glaring daggers into his soul, and he gulped, nervously put his phone back into his pocket. "M-My bad..uh...I just...."

However, Kingambit's menacing look suddenly vanished, replaced with a cheeky smile as it chuckled. And only then did the dragon tamer realize the fairy and grass Pokémon were gathered nearby, giggling as well.

"Awh, did King scare the "almighty Dragon Tamer"?" You teased, seeing how flustered he was getting.

"What? Of course not! What are you talking about?" He quickly shook his head, offering you a sharp-toothed grin of reassurance. "I don't fear anything!"

"..Tyran!"

Raihan turned his head to see a Tyranitar stomping on over to you, wearing a mega bracelet similar to yours. He recalled you mentioning that you've mastered Mega Evolution.

But of all the Pokémon to choose from, it just had to be his ace's number one natural rival??? He'd hate to see how that would go down on a battlefield..

'Mega Tyranitar against G-Maxed Duraludon...sounds like a good movie title..' He mused, before snapping out of his thoughts and sighing, watching you coo over the dark/rock type--just like you did Slither Wing.

His concerned looks caught your attention, as you just huffed in growing annoyance, cradling Tyranitar's head in your arms. "Rai, relax. My friends here don't have a single mean bone in their bodies."

"I find that hard to believe. Plus my Duraludon hates Tyranitars...isn't that right......?"

However, he trailed off upon realizing that his trusty Duraludon was no longer by his side, instead hobbling over to greet your Tyranitar. "Du....Duraludon?" He blinked stupidly.

"Tar!!"

"Ludon!!!"

Raihan could only gawk as the two gently butted heads, amazed that they weren't at each other's throats. Instead, Tyranitar encouraged it to come play with the bouncy ball near the curry pot, and the steel/dragon followed them without hesitation.

Soon enough, Scolipede, Slither Wing, and Kingambit went to join the fun, leaving the dragon tamer utterly speechless as he realized his initial assumptions about your team were wrong. "Wow...."

"Yeah." Laughing softly, you patted his back as he stood there, shoulders still slumped. "So do you believe me now?"

"...I do. I'll never doubt you again."

Impulse purchase haha

Pages from Deku's creature chronicle... part 2

Nav: 1 // 2 // 3 // 4 // 5 // 6

The Sanctity of Sacred Spaces

Life as part of the Heart Pirates and being their beloved tailor (and sometimes sharpshooter).

A Heart Pirates reader insert collection

Ao3 link

Peace and All Else

Tyrant of the Laundry Room

Initiation

Japes and Jubilation (Part 1) | (Part 2) | (Part 3) | (Part 4)

Shortest

writing fanfiction is just. i’m being so creative and original. i’m plagiarizing everyone by accident. i’m a genius. i’m cringe. i’m too angsty. i’m too cheesy. this is not in character. it doesn’t matter that it’s not in character because these are my characters now. i love my hobby. this is the worst possible use of my time. i’m seeking validation. i’m projecting my own personal problems onto this story and i’m barely hiding it. i know so many words and i’m using all of them wrong. im on tumblr posting about it instead of writing it.

snapshots. [—chilchuck tims]

TAGS / WARNINGS: gender neutral reader, modern au,       minor pining, background marcille/falin WC: 1,000 NOTE: divorced father of 3 save me... save me       divorced father of 3...

✗ MINORS / AGELESS / BLANK BLOGS DNI.

“Move over.”

Chilchuck’s voice startles you. The bowl in his hands is steaming: a hearty stew made with Falin and Marcille’s collective effort—(“Senshi’s tried and true recipe!”). A thick slice of bread perches on its rim. It smells just as heavenly as it did at dinner.

“Here?” you ask, stupefied. The armchair you’ve claimed is wide; there’s easily enough space to fit a Chilchuck-sized person, but your mind jumps—unbidden—to the reason he’d been late in the first place.

“Where else?” He nudges you with his knee. “As if I’m gonna sit near that love-fest over there.”

“You’re not welcome anyways,” Marcille tuts, midway through dipping the maraschino cherry from her sundae into Falin’s mouth.

“This is my apartment!”

You concede with a laugh: it’s just your bruised heart working overtime. The moment his body settles, shoulders touching, you stop being able to taste the ice cream Laios had scooped into your bowl. Existence narrowing to that point of contact with a familiar little rush.

It’s Laios’ turn to choose tonight’s movie, much to Marcille’s dismay—(“A documentary classifies! This is a really interesting one!”)—and he scrolls to find it as Chilchuck digs into his food.

Midway through, you engage him in a thrilling mock-battle of fencing spoons. Falin dozes, lulled from the careful stroke of Marcille’s fingers through her hair. By the time the credits roll, they’re folded onto each other, soft snores drowned out by music.

“They fell asleep again,” Chilchuck drawls, chin cushioned against his hand.

“Must be crashing after all that sugar,” Laios suggests, drapes a blanket over them.

“They were pretty high energy tonight. Eager to hear about how Chilchuck’s date went, I guess,” you tease, taking up the mantle with Marcille fast asleep. “You didn’t even tell us her name.” Keeping the tone casual despite the haunting little pit in your stomach.

(It’d been a shock to hear about it: for as long as you’ve known him, Chilchuck has been eager to keep his life private—even from long-time friends. And there’d been no signs of anyone—except you and your little group—coveting his time and attention; no extra, unexplained toothbrushes, no brands you don’t recognize in his pantry, no missed get-togethers.)

“Huh?” He gives you a look, confusion twisted in his features. The TV’s light illuminates a silver hair. “I wasn’t with any girl.”

Your brow furrows. “…His name? Their name?”

Chilchuck stares. This close—where the minuscule twitches in his expression are noticeable—it’s strangely evaluating.

“You know Marcille was joking when she said it was a date, right?” Heat sears along your cheekbones; embarrassment flushing hot under his gaze—the realization of your mistake.

“Of course I knew,” you say stupidly. Chilchuck’s eyebrow quirks. “Shut up. Don’t look at me like that.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Well, then if it wasn’t a date, who were you with?”

“Senshi,” he says. “He was—we, uh,” his eyes slide off to the side, “I asked him for a favor.”

“Oh?” you hum, relief and mirth creating a warm hum behind your ribs. “Looking to get a side hustle as a cook?”

“Not even close,” he grunts, looking away.

“Should we start calling you our little master chef?” You nudge him with a grin.

“Chilchuck is already quite good at cooking,” Laios pipes up without taking his eyes off the screen. “Maybe he’ll learn to make something else after mastering ramen.”

“Hey—”

“Ramen?” you ask, head tilting. “Like, the instant kind?”

Chilchuck splutters. “No!”

“From scratch!” Laios beams. “Senshi’s said he’s been making really good progress since his first day.”

“Oh?” you grin. “Our little master chef is gonna open a ramen shop?”

“Shut up. No way. Not ever,” Chilchuck grumbles, the high curve of his ear a soft pink.

“I hope you’ll make it for us one day—I love ramen,” you say. “Very tedious, though, so I’ve never done it myself.”

His face scrunches, mouth pursing together like he wants to speak, but doesn’t. His cheeks puff with air, releasing as a long, quiet sigh.

“Oh, hey, so after ramen”—you lean a hand on the chair’s opposite arm, boxing him in with a cheeky little smile—“you should look into French onion soup. It’s probably easier than ramen but caramelizing the onions takes so long—”

“You—!” he leans back, shoulders tense and eyes wide. “Don’t go making requests before I’ve even cooked anything decent.”

“Why not? I bet it’ll be great! You’re good with your hands, so soup is probably a piece of cake for you.” You watch—with no small amount of pleasure—as Chilchuck’s face flushes with vivid color.

“Get away from me,” he mumbles, but his tone is so insincere all you do is laugh. He knocks a loose fist against the inside of your elbow. A surprised noise jumps out; you retreat back against the chair, rubbing the spot.

“Mmh?” Marcille rouses with a sleepy hum. “What’re you requestin’?”

“Chilchuck is making us ramen,” you joke, relishing the way he knocks an admonishing leg against yours. “He’s our little master chef.”

“Oh, yeah. Did Laios end up spilling the beans?” Marcille yawns. Falin stirs, eyes fluttering. “Congratulations, you two.”

Chilchuck goes stiff beside you. “What do you mean?” you ask.

Marcille pauses, head tilting with a drowsy look of confusion. “Huh? Didn’t you ask why he’s learning to make it?” she asks. Falin tugs her sleeve.

You blink. “No. Should I have?” Marcille doesn’t respond right away, head bent to put an ear by Falin’s mouth, expression pinched as they whisper. Then, with a sigh, she reaches up to stretch.

“No. Never mind. Forget I said anything.” Laios is quick to grab her attention.

“Hey, so are you actually opening a ramen shop?” you whisper to Chilchuck.

“You’re such an airhead,” he grunts against his palm.

“I’m great,” you reply. His eyes meet yours, holding your gaze. When next he speaks, his voice is soft—acquiescing easily to your jest.

“Guess you are.”