okayyy so this is the info post for preciousmetalshipping week, the pokespe ship of gold and silver. you know the drill by now.
the week begins December 17 and last through the 23rd. there will be no designated time zone, so feel free to start posting content whenever the date rolls around in your area.
although there are themes, the goal of the week is to celebrate preciousmetal, so if you find none of the themes are to your taste, please feel free to do whatever! everyone is able to contribute, whether itâs art or graphics, stories or headcanons, videos or playlists, whatever you want !!
remember to post everything in the #pmshiweek tag! also, track the tag for future updates. without further ado, here are the themes! (and at last im done stealing from last years post ahah)
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[ laaate as always. this is from an old sw au i had, jedispe. there were two older drabbles that i tidied up. this is one of them, and i thought it would go w the pair quite well. ]
âThatâs not true.â
He opens his eyes, slowly. Raises his head from the depths of his folded palm. The only light was from the corners of the box, little flecks of it from the sunâs rays beneath, forcing their way through. It wasnât much, but it was enough to make out the otherâs form. To see the unborn fury in his eyes.Â
âNeither of us is useless.â
Boom. Born. He didnât think much of it still, just watching those burning golden eyes. He thought about reaching out, about unearthing what lay beneath them. But moving much in the cramped space wasnât going to be a smart idea. So he quieted the thought, like he did to many others, and let his own face betray nothing as he replied.
âYou donât know.â
He let his voice reverberate off the walls and hang there. It was quiet enough he could hear their shared breathing. The slow inhales, followed by sharp exhales. He could stop there, and think more of how he managed to end up in this mess. But somehow, some way, he continued.
âTo you, there has only ever been one true side. Itâs been black and white.â He let himself take another breath, still the air before continuing. âBut thatâs not how the world works. Thereâs always a grey.â He finally forces both eyes all the way up, catching those gold ones in his sight and holding them there. âTo the Jedi, there is no emotion, no passion.â He takes another breath, deep. âThere is only . . the Force. But thatâs-â His voice breaks, startling and a cruel betrayal of his mask. He feels his neutral mouth slip into a confused downturn, his brows furrow in empathy. And he continues, finding himself unable to straighten.
âThatâs no way to live. Without feeling. And Iâm not-â He looks up again, to those enamoring eyes. âIâm not saying the Sith are correct. Thereâs a code - âPeace is a lie. The force shall free me.â And I donât feel that way.â The last sentence came out in a whisper, almost a whimper, as he felt himself divulge more.
His shoulders hunch over, slowly, as he continued. âThere isnât a . . correct side. To me, thereâs a grey. Itâs not neutral, but it stands for neither.â He pauses, bites on his lip and forces his face to steady, his voice to even out. He lets the scared little boy vanish from his expression, lets his own silver orbs hollow out. âAnd when you believe in neither, in a world of one or the other, then you are useless.â
Realizing he was finished, Gold lets himself take in a breath, deeply, through an open mouth. He feels like a soul has been bared, lied out in front of him. But what to do with it, he has no idea.Â
It was true that he only knew of one side, really. Heâd taken the harshness of the other side and assigned it as bad, as wrong. But heâd also seen the conflict in Sapphire, when she came back with Green. Heâd never thought that both sides could be troubling. That the struggle for peace could be paved with such inhumane methods. To shut out your feelings entirely . . that didnât sound right. To give into them completely, though, didnât either.Â
âItâs not a balance,â Silver says, across from him. âItâs just a warped ideology. Itâs just the in-between.â
âI can see it.â
He waits until those grey orbs are fixed on his once again. âNot without struggle, without conflict. But I can-â
Suddenly, those eyes narrow and seem to pierce into his mind. He pauses, thrown off guard.Â
âYou wouldnât know,â Silver says, suddenly sounding as old as can be, as weary as possible. Gold has to wonder, briefly, how long heâs held on to this âgrey-sideâ notion. How long heâs questioned everything he knew, and yet still couldnât find himself turning to the only other side there was.
Then, the redheadâs next words blindsided him.
âAs someone so force-sensitive yet still not able to put any of it to good use, you are undoubtedly useless as well.â
The presence leaves his mind, and he feels his head thud back against the wall. Realizing what had happened, and taking into account the rather blunt insult, Gold snaps back up. âWhat-â
âItâs time I get out of here,â Silver mutters, reaching for the handle of his lightsaber. He holds it straight up and lets it illuminate, sending Gold reeling back only to realize he was in no immediate danger. The saber lit and struck through the boxâs upper doors, punching a hole in the metal. Before Gold could voice a complaint, Silver fixes both hands on the hilt and grinds them to the side, attempting to slash an opening.
Gold breathes out, once. Then he fumbles for the hilt at his side.Â
Silver works until thereâs a decent, sized hole, the reaches up to pry the rest of the side hatch off, the other across still intact. No matter, he only needed out to be able to get out-
He pauses, firmly aware of the glowing presence riding near his neck. The vibrant hum letâs him know, as the air stills.Â
Across, Gold lets his eyes narrow to slits. âPut it away.â
Ah. Heâd be talking about his- Right. Silver lets his red saber close, reattaching it slowly to his hip. Only then does he notice the hum was gone with it. He looks back up and evaluates. The pilot, holding the girlâs saber, he could only assume. The color was one-of-a-kind. But that was all it was. A colored plasma sword. There wasnât any other power behind it.
He hisses and screws his face up. âThis is what I mean. You have the potential, yet you canât use it,â he barks, lashing out with his words. âYouâre just. Like. Blue!â
Following his words, Silver struck a hand out. Gold had no idea what happened, but suddenly, Sapphâs saber was off, clouding him in darkness again. The light from the shipâs interior above illuminates Silverâs form, his snarl, his wide and darkened eyes.Â
Heâd had enough. Gold lurches forward and manages to climb over Silver and up through the hull. He throws Sapphâs saber to the far side of the room, then reaches for a button pressed against the wall in front of him. âI think itâs about time you get off my ship,â he spits, fingers punching the button.
Before Silver could react, the hatch beneath them opened. While Gold could grasp the other side of the upper hatch and the floor of the ship in front, Silver wasnât so lucky. He attempted to attach to the inner walls, but his ground disappeared so quickly he couldnât regain footing, his lower half dipping beneath him. With a breathy cry, heâs dropped from the box entirely.
Gold gets an arm up over the upper hatch and hauls himself up, shouting for the ship to speed ahead to whoever was piloting. The low-altitude cruising low heâd been experiencing suddenly jolted, and as he tumbles fully into the shipâs interior, they begin to gain speed, sending him to the opposite wall. Then he has a thought. Finding himself unable to pry away from the wall, he screams out his next words, eyes on the open hatch. âWhere are we?!â
âOver the capital building, leaving itâs airspace now!â Comes the reply, from Ruby he realizes, thank God.Â
So heâd be okay, Gold thinks. At least there was something to break his fall. Then he wishes he could punch himself, still unable to pry his limbs away from his torso. Itâd be better if heâd just die already and leave them alone!
But you donât really think that.
He quits his struggling. No. He didnât. The haunted look in those silver eyes resurfaces. It had made sense, what heâd said. Plus, he was right about his own sensitivities. They were there. Red had said so himself. But he just couldnât put them to fruition. Then, he remembers the name thatâd been spoken. Blue. He thinks that Crystal had mentioned that name once before.
âSet a course to base,â he calls out, hoping Ruby would hear him. A sudden jolt confirms, and he finds his mind reeling.
It was time to find out. It was time to get some answers.
oh also! if preciousmetal week was gonna happen itd either be 15-22 this month, or sometime in october. if anyone has a preference jus reply to this post I guess or message me! aaand if you're interested regardless, give this post a like so I can know
kk since iâm super busy this year first i wanna apologize, pmshiweek is happening later this year but still happening !
second the poll for themes is here and results are here like last time if you get curious. i donât have the time right now to manage it all so i left an âotherâ option so you can add your own,, go crazy with it. or message me and iâll add more when i get the time. sorry itâs not super convenient. october ended up being a super crazy busy month and this month has been, aha, no different! i still want this to happen though.Â
the info post will come later, the week i believe is the third week of december so by the first of the month the poll votes should be counted and the information post made. thanks again for hanging with me, iâll see you all later !!
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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[unedited, could go either au or normal, goodnight]
Day 7 ⢠gs ⢠modern
It was so hot.
The phrase became Silverâs new mantra as he slumped over the back of the  couch  -older, a gift from someone, maybe Elm?- his legs giving out.
Not long after, his back was tapped on, right between his shoulder blades. âCâmon Silv, get up. Â Thereâs still boxes left,â Gold murmured. He was met with unintelligible muttering. âWhat?â
Silver turned his head out of the cushion. âItâs hot,â he whined.
âYeah.â Another pat came, this time closer closer to his shoulder. âWe donât have much more.â
They had been moving inside and out for nearly two hours now. He narrowed his eyes. âHow much shit do you have?â Translation: WHat all did you end up getting for the new place?
The hand went from near his neck to the end of his loose ponytail, tugging Silver up and away from the furniture.
âOw, ow, okay, I get it! You can let go now!â
âYou were there when I got most of it,â Gold huffed, relinquishing his hold of the other. Silver immediately scrambled for one of the boxes dotting the yard, eager to get back inside. He paused as he felt the weight, looking to Gold as he passed. âWhatâs in this one?â
âHow would I know?â
âIt has your name?â
âOh!â He turned to take a look. âHmm . . looks like-â Gold carefully opened a flap, nodding in satisfaction once he saw the contents and opened it up fully to show Silver.
It was a bunch of pokeballs.
Silver cocked a brow. âHuh. Doesnât explain why it weighs so much, though.â
âItâs the both of ours.â Gold grunted as he bent down to grab a box of his own. âMust be the combined weight of a lot of love.â
He hummed. âWell. Iâm not sure how much of this love can fit in out very small apartment.â
Gold grinned, moving past. âShould be a lot, considering thereâs none currently in residence.â
âDo you want me to leave?â
âNo. This may come as a surprise, but I want to finish bringing everything in as much as you do.â
âOkay.â The box landed on a table with a thump. âYou do that.â Silver padded further into the air-conditioned box forest. âIâm gonna go lie down. Let me know how that turns out.â
Gold sighed as he set down his own box. âThatâs not what I meant. Iâm just as tired as you are, Silv.â
âGood. If Iâm lucky, Iâll be asleep when you finish and start complaining,â a voice echoed.
Gold gave up choosing to spend his energy bracing the sticky heat than arguing with his boyfriend.
Later, he would crawl into bed and snuggle close to the other only to be elbowed in the face because he was âtoo coldâ.
Pmshiweek day: i dont remember. But the theme is normal day. Art by @hellfeels with their permission A Normal Day The smell of breakfast is in the air, causing me to wake up and get ready for the day ahead of me. The routine for days like these was simple. Wake up, shower, breakfast, brush my teeth, and leave for whatever job I had to do. It used to be that I dreaded mornings like this. Not anymore. âCan you smell what the Goldâs cookinâ Silver?â. Gold places two plates on the kitchen table and puts eggs and bacon on both of them. It wasnât very creative, but, it was good enough for me. âI just want to eat what the Goldâs cookingâ, I reply tiredly. Iâm not a morning person-Gold certainly is. Heâs up and early everyday to do the same thing I do, but cooking on top of it. I used to hate mornings for their boredom and my sheer tiredness paired with lack of inspiration to get up. But, for the past couple years, I think I grew out of that habit. âHow is it Silver?â, Gold asks, eagerly waiting for my response which is always⌠âI think it tastes perfectâ, I answer, a slight smile forming on my lips as I eat. How could one not smile when the person sitting in front of them is sitting with the biggest grin in the world?
