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All the damn time. 👍🏻

You ever think about how Giovanni is necessarily the most important person in the pokémon world?

He's a patron of scientific research. He's a businessman. He's the leader of MULTIPLE criminal organizations (and worldwide even, if you count pokémon go as a source of canon), and not even behind the scenes - he's a public figure and regularly engages in contests if pokemon prowess with trainers including children!

The cops (who are generally portrayed as being benevolent and also good at their jobs) literally know his reputation and what he looks like and don't touch him!

And this isn't even counting his encounters with a whole host of legendary/mythical pokémon and the like.

I'm increasingly beginning to believe it's because if something happened to Giovanni, the world would literally devolve into chaos. What if Giovanni is, like, the karmic anti-AZ?

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THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU TO MY DEAR FRIEND @jejesart WHO DREW THIS COMMISSION FOR ME I LOVE IT VERY MUCH!!! IM VERY MUCH GIGGLING SO STUPIDLY AS I LOOK AT HIM HOLY F U C K !!!!!!!!! AAAAAAAAA

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I found out Giovanni has a persian painting and IMMEDIATELY recognized it as a play on Ingres' Grande Odalisque which is a painting of what is highly debated between being either a Turkish or Persian woman.

He has a painting of a Persian based on a painting of a Persian.

*quick art history side note that the debate isn't about her origins, the painting is intended to be depicting a Turkish woman but the Persian Empire did include the part of Turkey she is supposed to be from and the debate is about whether its supposed to aesthetically be strictly 1800s Turkey or if its intended to allude to the aesthetics European artists at the time used to depict the Persian Empire

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I drew a chibi Giovanni! A proud father of one (persian) and a dad still out getting milk for 10 years (Silver)

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쿠키런 킹덤 😮

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happy ten years, trans bugs!

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When you get to the Temple of Sinnoh

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thinking about the video where a bunch of guys get together to un-corrupt a blastoise that got bad egged years ago in a leafgreen game and how that whole scenario is like. the loving side of cosmic horror. you are a blastoise. you trust your trainer. you've been through countless battles together, and while they never say anything, you can tell your trainer loves you. what you don't know is that your trainer is, at all times, being puppeted by intelligent forces outside of your dimension, holding knowledge far beyond the scope of anything you could ever know. they know things about your world that you do not; that nobody in your world ever could. the distinction between your trainer and this creature is minimal. at the same time, this creature is not god. it does not have infinite knowledge; it understands far greater than you, yet in still a very limited capacity. they understand what your world is made up of and how it can be manipulated to fit your whims. this creature loves you. your trainer loves you. they love you so much that they want to help you become stronger. they manipulate the very laws of your world to attain this feat. however, they did it wrong. they didn't know what they were doing, and the makeup of your being- everything you ARE- was twisted. you are no longer a blastoise. you are a bad egg. your trainer remains the same as ever. everything continues on, the same as it ever was, yet you cannot be what you once were. your trainer tries over, and over, and OVER again to hatch you, but you never become what you once were. you are a bad egg. there are other bad eggs now, other pokemon you used to know; pokemon you helped your trainer catch, pokemon you may have even fought alongside. now you're all bad eggs, sealed away by ancient protective magic known as Code. you never knew such a thing existed. you wonder if you're dangerous now. your trainer sets you in a box. over the years, he forgets which box you're in. unbeknownst to you, the creature is panicking, trying everything it can possibly think of to restore you to your blastoise state. the creature is just a child. he carries the pain of your loss long into adulthood; in his mind, he is responsible for your death. in the grand scheme of the universe, you do not matter; you're a "game". a few lines of code and some pixels. you do not Exist. and yet, you are mourned. and yet many others just like you are mourned by many others just like him. the world has been still for many, many years. you don't know this, because your world does not contain an internal clock. time doesn't really exist for you; it's a concept far outside of your reality. and yet, it is important. your creature contacts another of its kind. it shares the story of its sin, the insignificant act of corrupting you beyond repair. it shares this story in hopes that it could save you. the other creature recalls its own destruction of a world not unlike yours. it agrees to help. many creatures within the world outside of yours have gathered all together, using technologies familiar and unfamiliar with one collective goal in mind: to rescue you. specifically you. your loss is widely considered nothing. and yet, they put in incredible effort. obstacle after obstacle, they perform miracles for your sake. they copy your world; they use strange windows to view it, they layer your world over itself many times over to view it from every angle. they dig deep into the very makeup of your universe just trying to find you. one of them uses a method that only he has access to, in all the world, to find you. and they do. you have lost your name and everything else that makes you you, but there is something that remains in tact, that makes you findable; a piece of "data", an invisible quality to you that you and your trainer would never see, something you could never possibly know about. this is what ultimately makes you you, and not another blastoise. slowly but surely, they begin to put you back together. it's much harder than it needs to be, it is far too much effort for one

creature in one game that will never be touched again, and yet they do it. they race against the clock, stressing endlessly, sweating bullets and crying out in relief when they finally find the exact values, the last pieces of invisible quality that makes it YOU. you are now a blastoise. you are now "legitimate" to the game. you do not know it yet, but your trainer - your creature - is waiting for you, excited to Transfer you into new worlds until you are where he wants you. until you are safe. you also do not know that at this time, two of you exist. there is the You, here, being put together, manipulated through the fabrics of reality to restore your original form. and there is the Original you; the one waiting home, on the cartridge. the Real you. you are a clone, but you are not. you are a new pokemon, but you are the original. you are both corrupted, and legitimate. you are many things. the new you is saved, and this version of your world- this version that has fixed you, and only you- is re-uploaded, overlayed and overwritten to the original. you safely arrive. You are a blastoise. You were a bad egg, for a short time. But now you are a blastoise again. your trainer acts the same as ever, because he cannot display anything that would suggest he notices the difference. you do not know what happened. you have no idea. you have no idea how much you are loved.

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rewatching “Holy Matrimony” this time did something to me

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Distinct from the random static of the brook rose a rhythmic buzzing, chitinous and collective. The source was all around them.

Aiden panned the light over Hisoka and Tori, towards the sound of water. It shone on a silver ribbon hemming the lowest level of the terrace, loosely stitched along the opposite shore with pairs of milky pearls.

“...Aiden?” Hisoka asked, his voice wavering.

“ZuuEEE-kch-kch-kch!”

The buzzing quieted. Aiden whipped the light towards Zubat’s noise.

On a flat patch of ground a meter ahead, the Pokémon sat on the unfurled flap of Hisoka’s pack, unaware of the spotlight but seemingly gleeful to hear familiar footsteps so close. It stretched both wings upward and wiggled the tips, then clicked its teeth. The remains of a berry stained the fur around its mouth and the canvas bag beneath it.

Several of Hisoka’s possessions were strewn about on the same plateau, but he saw the Pokéball containing Bulbasaur was tucked safely behind Zubat, inside the mouth of the bag. Aiden felt a cool rush of relief to a concern he hadn’t even been conscious of. Gracidea to Arceus, he hadn’t lost his friend’s Pokémon.

“Heeey, Zubat,” Aiden crooned, closing the distance until he could reach the small Pokémon and the items it guarded.

“Aiden!?” Hisoka scrambled to stay close.

Aiden crouched and scooped Zubat and the Pokéball to his chest. As he stood, he put his back to Hisoka’s and raised the flashlight.

The edge of the light was alive and moving, pointed limbs perforating the boundary. Just beyond it, sets of eyes sparkled, mid-calf height off the ground, Aiden estimated.

Whatever the creatures were, they’d begun to sing again, louder and louder, a symphony of the same two harmonica notes in doubletime. Louder than the quaking transit of Onix or Geodude, their sawing crescendo sounded in his ears and reverberated in the cavity of his chest.

Zubat wriggled in Aiden’s arms. Finding purchase on his shirt with its tiny claws, it yanked itself up onto his shoulder.

As it perched beside Aiden’s ear, he heard the tiny Pokémon draw in breath. There was no time for him to plug his ear before it issued a piercing shriek, aimed away but still painfully loud. Zubat followed the screech with more clicking of its teeth, backed up by a tiny, menacing growl.

The display was briefly unpleasant for Aiden, but its impact on the surrounding creatures was dramatic. Their chirring ceased. Aiden could hear the brook once again, the whine of his flashlight, and the pounding of his pulse in his ears. In the surrounding shadows, dozens of chitinous feet clicked on stone as the unseen swarm drew back and reshuffled positions.

“...what did you say?” he whispered, incredulous.

Zubat clicked its teeth some more, perhaps in response.

Imaginary Prisons - Chapter 53: A Demonstration of Morels

#pokemon fanfiction #pokemon fanart #parasect #my ocs #my art #pokemon spl/ice #imaginary prisons

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When you're a 40+ year old crime boss and you keep losing to 10 year old trainers--

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When I open my mouth to reply that I am enjoying the Pokémon Scarlet / Violet DLC

#pokemon #pokemon sv #pokemon scarlet violet #team rocket #team rocket giovanni #team rocket leader giovanni #pokemon giovanni #director cyrano #cyrano pokemon #looker pokemon #aether paradise #blueberry academy #indigo disk #indigo disk spoilers #team rainbow rocket #ultra wormhole #Silph co #pokemon conspiracy theories

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oh my favorite trope? two people who go through something so unique and agonizing and entirely beyond words that they have no choice but to create a bond that transcends all other types of love, thus acting as the sole point of understanding for the other person in a world that cannot fathom what they’ve been through

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Day one of  ACS WEEK 2020 !

Giovanni's ‘friends’ are embarrassing him in front of cyrus, this is the only way I can actually picture the first day of the team going…..

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Happy New Year!

Happy new year to you and all! 🥳 Hope 2024 brings us all more Team Rocket content! ^^

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The Double Dragons, Reshiram and Zekrom!

Here's the illustration I did of the two for Chuggaaconroy's B2W2 LP!

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