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meltangospelhour · 3 years

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Notes on Reverie & Discipline: Chapter 3

Format: 1st Person Narrative

Chapter Rating: +18 [Peak Smut]

Summary: This story was written after and based upon the 2020 GOFest that's been collecting dust. It's a first person recollection of thoughts after certain events, as well as repressed feelings coming to the surface between three characters in particular.

This is the last chapter.

Chapter 1 // Chapter 2

Arlo

For as long as I’ve known Candela, it’s safe to say that she certainly has a type. I’m confident enough to say that I, Arlo, most certainly fall under that type.

...Then again, so does Blanche. Tch, not that it matters.

While we’re on the subject: my feelings regarding Blanche and Spark are on par with how I feel about anything or anyone associated with Candela...

...Of which I’m sure you know exactly what that is. These things work much like a play. No need to read in between my lines; I’ve laid everything out on the surface. By working for Giovanni, I’m seeking my revenge upon Candela for what she’s done to me. Simple as--

The door of my office knocks. I ditch my lines and draw open the metaphorical curtain. I secretly hope that it isn’t a grunt, or worse.

Those grunts..

I’ve never, simultaneously, felt so much disgust and pity in my life.

You serve a man--a man who doesn’t even have eyebrows--who claims everyone's successes for his own. He makes people shrink down to feel good about himself. Weak. Disgusting.

The strongest trainer in the world? The absolute joke. I knew about what he did in Alola, and I’m more disgusted than impressed. And yet…

It’s Cliff. Or, it’s Sierra. The situation is almost interchangeable.

Sierra and Cliff are never together in the room with me when they come to speak to me in this fashion; and it’s only been as of recently that they’ve come to address me in such a way. If they do happen to turn up at the same time, they’ll flip a coin to see who goes first, and who waits outside for the other to finish.

Relax; we’re backstage. My glasses lower, my hair comes down. I only speak to them when they’ve finished talking.

I roll my chair to where they’re standing. Or sitting. Or even sometimes kneeling, but only for the case of Cliff. Sierra would never; she preferred standing in the corners closest to the exit. Cliff, however, has moments of sadness so intense to where he can hardly support his own towering form. That, or he simply likes kneeling in front of me. I’ve never asked, and I certainly don’t mind it.

(Is this the part where I say, “If only Candela would kneel before me?” There, there; I’ve said it. Gobble it up, you wretched peasants. Yes, Candela has knelt before me, but not in the way you're thinking. If anything, I was the one that could barely stand up by the time it was over. Hah!)

We talk. I don’t keep track of time. It isn’t important. I am, with this, mining for gold; spelunking for a gem with greater fervor than the Devon Corporation heir himself. Although, we’re mining with an obsidian scalpel and not a pickaxe; precise words and salty tears, carefully slicing away to expose what might be hiding beneath the skin and of use to certain parties. It bleeds, it stings, and I'm the one who gets to see it all. Not Giovanni; never Giovanni.

Heaven forbid what he’d do if he saw or heard any of this.

Sierra hardly trusts me, but knows that, even with Giovanni, I refrain from touching upon certain subjects no matter how much he tries to pry or initiate small talk. She needs someone who will listen and who won’t ‘rat her out,’ as they say. And Cliff? Cliff doesn’t want to upset Giovanni by appearing too weak or incompetent beyond his self suppression, so he’s come to confide in me.

Just how I’ve wanted it.

We finish; they leave, and I return to my desk.

I then write a note. Something to tune of:

[His obligation is unyielding.]

[She’s scared. She only trusts Giovanni.]

I send them. Quickly. For the sake of everyone’s safety, I’m obliged to obsfuscate my trail.

[Arlo reacts poorly when it comes to being embarrassed.]

The receiver tells me they knew that.

Of course you do. Don’t you do this to me, woman.

[That’s right. There’s someone over there who had been friends with him in the past; yes?]

{Yes, me.}

I wanted to ask more. I always wanted to ask more. And, I was permitted to ask as much as I like, but questions still risked details that could reveal my identity.

[I want you to understand this: this is all for you, for us.]

[Do you miss him? Are you angry at him?]

[He mentioned a photo from Wyndon. Do you still have that? We need it.]

[Do you love him?]

[I see. We’ll do our best to keep closer tabs on him, if you’d like.]

{Please.}

Please. I could almost hear her voice. Just as when she would crawl into my bed, and make a request of me. Her sweet murmurs into my ear always ended with that coquettish, “Please.” It would always be such a contrast from those beautiful, ferocious cries she made in battle and to command our fellow team members.

Such a beautiful, fickle fire.

A fire that I once hated. A fire that I once foolishly tried to conquer, only to realize my steel needed that fire, and that fire required the most reliable weapons in their aresenal to burn even brighter.

I fluttered between wanting to seize it, wanting to destroy it, and wanting to become utterly consumed by it. In the beginning, I only appreciated her sweetness, wishing she could remain at that temperature and nothing beyond my own comfort; only to come to appreciate the contrasts and extremes that were unified within.

It was a contrast I myself had been exploring in my quest to become a better, no, the best weapon. To exist with my steel within the fires as comfortably as the Heatran did. The masks I’ve worn since childhood to navigate the rungs of my society, the one I wore first and foremost was the brittle facade of strength. For anyone who couldn’t see through it, it was incredibly effective.

It was the one that I wore for this role. A mottled mask, made from poorly infused steel, and given an artificial shine to compensate for its rust, crags, and dullness. Well-forged beauty atop of an insufferable nature; one that compensated because they merely thought they were confident in their skills. Cobbled together by the idiocy of my youth, past carelessness, and misguided passions.

For Giovanni, it was absolute perfection. He adored those with great potential and broken spirits. It meant he could thrive while they remained content climbing the ranks, but never surpassing him. They rewarded the strong and the loyal. There was no cutoff for loyalty, but the strength had to yield to Giovanni.

Only Sierra and Cliff had seen the true radiance that now lay beneath that mask.

No; I am still by no means perfect. I accept that none of us can be.

But, some of us are better than others in a wider variety of ways. That just so happens to include me.

She replied.

{By the way, who are you?}

[I cannot reveal my identity. I am truly sorry.]

Oh, this connection between the informant and the receiver! You project an image of the person reading your words on the other end, hoping, and yet knowing. Knowing their longing to show their gratitude, and suppressing your own longing to accept it. To reassure them and to tell them so much...

...To know a passionate soul lies on the other end.

It's like that novel she'd read about the spy. God, did she hate that novel.

Considering the ending, I truly cannot blame her. Unlike the novel, she will know who it is that lies on the other end.

What if it isn't her…? What if someone is pretending to be her for the sake of my own morale?

Don't think about that.

It’s happened before. Not to me, but to others, in the past.

That barrage of playful quips amid strategic, stoic words. My opponent in chess is flirting with me, is what I like to imagine. I have nights where I desire to make small talk, under the impression that they would never guess who I might be. I’ll not allow it for myself.

This world is ours, just you and I.

Whomever you may be.

Long fingers running through my hair; the smell of what must be vanilla, ylang-lang, and rich cinnamon fill my nose; the sound of heartbeat against my ear, the soft galloping, the gentle buzzing, and that breeze that rustles through the grasses create a sound like the gentle waves upon a calm sea in the distance.

I wish I'd still had the photograph we'd taken together before we decided it was best to take off from the group after that morning tournament and enjoy a picnic together in the wilds. I do recall we'd laid in the grass, somewhere tucked away, while our Pokemon played nearby. Their innocent eyes spared the sight of our own moments together.

..I'm not entirely certain if I prefer your legs crossed behind my back;

Or you straddling my waist whilst I gaze up upon you as the sunlight frames your magnificent form in its divine radiance;

Or holding your leg up while you lay on your side, writhing as beautifully as a Milotic dancing along the reefs, and cooing in such a sweetly spoiled manner as your hands caress your own body;

Or my head between your thighs as you grab my hair and tell me you accept my apology for being late this morning to the tournament as I become further addicted to you and your precious nectar, more enticing than a pecha;

Or--My god.

...

I’d worked myself like a piece of steel.

That memory, so incredibly vivid. Her passionate melody, which included my name, was so deliciously sweet.

Like some bewildered fool, I stared at the aftermath of that unbridled lust which now sullied my bare hand.

I needed to clean myself up immediately.

This is a time where Cliff’s philosophy of “don’t think” becomes its most useful. But sometimes, I had to allow myself some degree of surrender as a reminder to focus.

My glasses are back on. My hair is back up. I return to the stage.

🖤🖤🖤

Let it be known that I am forever grateful for interns.

Let it be known that I am forever grateful for the outrageous and utterly wasteful amount of incompetent interns Giovanni has onhand.

A knock came to my door at a time where neither Cliff nor Sierra should have been available.

“Enter,” I called.

It was Archer. And Proton.

I abhorred Archer for many reasons, but especially for the way he looked down at and upon me. I knew that stare, and I had avoided making assumptions about it until he commented upon, in his words, the cherubic nature of my features. While I am well aware of my own undeniable allure, it was the very manner of his delivery that had me dry-heaving with rage. To connect with such a stare was to, potentially, shatter the mask I wore for my performance. My penchant against being embarrassed amused him to no end, to the point where it reached a perverse level. Far further than what I had anticipated, I often found myself at odds and fighting against myself when he came around. It ventured past the point of my character’s own senses of embarrassment, and my actual, very real fears that I’ll only admit right here. I was fortunate the Shadow Mewtwo project stifled his visits to this branch; Giovanni would have murder his beloved second-in-command of the main branch if it came to pass that his precious yet brutal weapon’s developments were off-schedule because of Archer insisting upon stopping by and hovering around me like so much Mandibuzz to a corpse.

This particular encounter was amusing, to say the least. Archer alone could put me on edge; however, his bringing in Proton? I felt the upper hand. You see, Archer was more than aware of my capabilities when it came to the fine art of fisticuffs and my lack of hesitancy to engage, if necessary. I’ll spare you the details, gentle reader; but this man once sorely underestimated my prowess until he fell privileged to witness my treatment of a grunt that had crossed my line one too many times. I still have that poor fool’s teeth in a Kalosian porcelain trinket box.

This fool has clearly never handled a Mawile; has he?

For whatever Archer had to tell me, he feared it justified his needing a bodyguard, and he bought Proton to do just that. Perhaps these fools finally remembered: Valor is merely Rocket with white hat connections, improved postures, slightly less recreational drug use, well-earned pride, intact souls, and far better lawyers. I had come from no weak roots, nor I had abandoned my knowledge and training when I arrived at their doorstep in Viridian City.

I’d only met Proton once, and that was more than enough. While I admired his shameless techniques and his unbridled savagery, his loud, elaborate confession of what he wanted to do with Candela during an intel briefing fully cemented my opinion of him. I care not whether it was genuine, or to goad me on and test my ravings against her. He is not the first, and he will very likely not be the last to regard her in such a way. Someday, I plan on discussing it with him in a gentlemanly fashion, which will likely end with his head beneath my foot just as those who had come before him when I was once a man of Valor, my fellow brethren similarly spewing such colorful vulgarities because of their unyielding desire to become a Ghastly by skilled my hand.

With the green-haired man barely fit to be my chauffeur standing and leaning smugly against the archway, staring me down with his arms folded and off-guard as if I wouldn't be able to roll over in my chair and eradicate the future of his entire bloodline in one swift uppercut to his netherregions, Archer stepped within my line of sight.

“Who was behind the leak?” Archer asked?

“...Excuse me?” I replied, despite knowing well what he was on about.

“The email leak.” Proton spoke up. “Don’t play dumb, Lil’ Prince.”

Oh, just the email leak. Then again, I suppose the sacrificial Wooloo will be punished for both leaks, considering...

“One of your interns.” I proclaimed, slowly rising to my feet, which startled Archer enough to be wise and stumble back towards his trash-heap guardian angel, King of the Garbardors. “Do you even think that I have time to keep up with their names with such an outrageous turnover rate? When I ask of you, ‘Don’t send incompetent assistants to my laboratory,’ I mean that. Likewise, when I demand you enhance your security network, I mean that as well. It’s your own fault for allowing this to happen. Tell me,” I asked, snatching up my Rotomphone, who, from so much practice, knew exactly what to do: get The Boss on speed dial. “Did Giovanni ask you to inquire this of me, or did you take it upon yourselves to do so? Wanting to frame me, knock me down a peg? Hmm? Trying to gain credit? Tch. What do you even think you’d do if it were me? Dispose of me by your own hand, thus interrupting the work upon the most potentially deadly Pokémon known to modern history? Are you even capable of finishing what I’ve begun, and administering the amount of training and conditioning that absolute monster is required for Giovanni to even be able to safely secure it within a Pokeball, let alone issue any command in its impure state?”

Preaching what could be best described as a ‘word salad’ while threatening to call Giovanni often worked for me. This being the first time in a long time I felt the heat of the forge, I felt panic behind my lecture and translated it into an aggression-rich snarl to help further project my voice that surpassed my stature, betrayed my ‘cherubic’ appearance, and furthered the impression that I, miraculously, eschewed the need to breathe as I rarely ever offered a pause during these tirades. Fortunately, they did not seem to sense it for what it truly was, and accepted it for what I’d peddled it to be. Archer disrupted my sermon, seeing as I had Giovanni’s photo, from his contact profile, sneering towards him onscreen. “W-we’ll find the intern,” he promised with surprising reassurance. I could see the strength of his grip in Proton’s arm as he pulled him along to follow.

I watched the elder admins disappear down the corridor. The enforcer Proton seemed shocked and full of questions that were going unanswered despite being constantly interrupted by Archer, who told him repeatedly he would explain it upon their return to Johto.

It then dawned upon me: This must be Proton’s first time hearing about the Shadow Mewtwo project.

🖤🖤🖤

Later that day, I found that three interns had been singled out. Two reprimanded, one fired.

I closed the door. I sent a note.

[I’m sending you information on a grunt that was recently discharged. Could you please keep an eye on them? Perhaps help them find other, more reputable work?]

...Was the receiver even capable of such a task?

{Sure!}

Of course she was.

The sudden idea to reach out to the cast-off intern, and bribe them into delivering a gift, came to me immediately.

..Just as quickly, I knew better not to do so. I needed to see this through the end, lest my emotions ruin this entire mission.

🖤🖤🖤

That confetti-wrought day came and went. It was as maddening as can be.

I wanted to look back as I ran, but I refrained. I knew what would happen, had I decided to do so.

And then, I couldn't resist.

I was a sword long overdue for tempering. Yes; terrible metaphor.

I returned long enough for a remote briefing, and immediately assured Giovanni of his insipid concerns. It was clear he wasn't happy with my words. Frankly, I cared little. I had a personal desire to fulfill that he could not.

I had created the shadow Mewtwo to be almost idiot-proof; and even I could not overcome the blessing of Victini. And yet, Giovanni, in his enviable levels of megalomania, would not take this for an answer.

It was ridiculous. What a buffoon!

...This newfound rage also meant that Cliff and Sierra would be stopping by more often. Though he berated me most often, they took any and all degree of negativity stemming from Giovanni so very personally.

Good.

Off on my own, I found Candela. She stood there in the darkness of night, in that field beyond the festival grounds. It was never hard to find her. I could always feel her, in a sense. I moved as quietly as could be.

.. How is she so beautiful? She was born to wear that uniform. Such a divine figure that married a certain elegance with an appeal to my own lust and possibly many, frankly worthless, others; a strong, yet erotic body; a sweet face that could invoke command at a given moment. The aura she radiated, powerful, enviable, yet addictive. She could cause so much damage when necessary, just as much as she could heal and mend.

My tongue slowly ran across my own lips.

I was more than ready to apologize.

The Rapidash that had been with her lifted its head, and made eye contact with me. It was the same little one Candela had raised so long ago. How bright and beautiful it had become! Even with my glasses, it must’ve recognized me. I’ll sneak treats to you again, someday, Little One.

In more ways than one, I had steeled myself up to advance. And yet, my plan to strike was so easily shattered by the giggling Galarian, the young Professor, with her body up against Candela’s.

...I should have made my move, even with Sonia present. I certainly wouldn’t mind if she wanted to join us to learn a thing or two. I--

(Don’t judge me; I’m an aristocrat!)

Under my breath, cursed Sonia for ruining the chance my mind, body, and spirit had yearned for for three long years. Upon reflection, I realized the Galarian may have spared me from making a massive mistake that would have not only sabotaged this entire mission, but guaranteed that another moment, like those happier days in the fields in the not-so-distant past, would never be met again.

Mea Culpa; I nearly played the part of a fool. Thank you, Sonia.

🖤🖤🖤

Upon my return, Giovanni had grown laughably ornery; gradually worsening to the point where Ariana forced him into leaving immediately for a vacation after an amazingly brutal argument during dinner, even comparing him to Ghetsis in the level of madness he'd taken on. It had already taken everything in my very being not to laugh in his face when he berated me for his own lack of talent before my earlier departure; so this moment came quite close to ruining my own masquerade and choking on my dinner.

Humor aside, I am beyond ready to burn this place.

Even amid this low-brow, uncouth chaos, I still can’t remove the visage of her in that field, as if waiting for someone.

Please. Please, let it have been me.

I had my dessert sent to my quarters in order to enjoy it in peace while reflecting, away from the buffooneries. At some point, in between bites, I decided to order a bouquet.

Red and white; delivered anonymously.

~Fin.

Chapter 1 // Chapter 2

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hanasaku-shijin · 4 years

Note

You have a lot of amazing pokémon and seem to be able to find them easily. On last community day I played most of it but only got 2 shiny Rhyhorn, you got loads! Are you just really lucky or play constantly/ know ways to be successful?

Oh! Okay, well first of all I’ve been playing since the very beginning (July 2016) so I’ve had a lot of time to find a lot of Pokemon and build up my 11 million stardust! But even then, it’s mostly just luck in terms of finding Pokemon. There are still a few I don’t have that aren’t even regionals - they’re just rare as heck!

I’m rural, so it’s not nearly as good as in the big cities, so there are plenty of people here who cheat and use maps and unofficial trackers on discord to find good or rare Pokemon (a lot of people in my local towns do that) but I don’t. I only have what I find randomly or by chance!

As for my Community Day luck... I have a theory that some accounts get most of their shiny luck from raids, some mostly from eggs, and some mostly from the wild. I know tons of people who ALWAYS get the raid shinies, but have low luck with eggs and wild spawns. My account has luck within the wild spawns, but never gets shinies from eggs or raids. But it does mean my Community Days are usually awesome! (All except Charmander day when I was somewhere I wasn’t familiar with, so I didn’t know the spawn spots and only wound up with 2 *sob*). But otherwise, if I can do a Com Day in my hometown and usual hunting grounds that I know super well, I usually get 8-15 shinies! But even then it’s allllll luck.

Best tip I can give for shinies (especially on Com Day) is use your incense! I get at least one (usually more) shinies from incense on Com Days! And use those lure modules to draw the Pokemon in! I also drive around a bit so I can access more spawn clusters more quickly instead of walking around one single park for 3 hours, where spawns would be a bit limited.

When it isn’t Community Day my wild shiny luck is pretty low, but every once in a while I’ll get one! I got a full-odds Caterpie yesterday! So in terms of that, just CLICK EVERYTHING!! My motto is “every time you click a Pokemon that isn’t shiny, it’s one click closer to one that is!”

But then there are still some that elude me to this day, even ones with “raised” shiny rates like Stantler and Aerodactyl and Lapras.... Never got Absol either. I’ve never been to a GoFest or Safari zone so I don’t have any of the special event luck where shiny rates are sky high, sadly. But one day. One day!!!!

#pokemon go shit #seen 120 gosh darn aerodactyls and still nothing #i have 4 hundos but NO SHINY!!#this is how long and hard i have hunted it... sigh #glennato

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tailsimp · 6 years

Text

So I’m seeing a lot of confusion as to why people think Lets Go Pikach & Eevee could mean bad things for the core games, so let me explain.

I want to preface this with the fact that I am excited about LGPE. But while there are absolutely a lot of doomsday criers about, there are a lot of fears about LGPE that are well founded, but have been lost in the shuffle. If you really want to understand what has people worried, please stick with me.

So first of all I want to point out that these games cannot really be considered spin offs. They are made GameFreak themselves, and GF has never made a spin off game for Pokemon. If you look at the long line of GF credits, they only do the main series of the game. So with that said, there are 2 things this can mean.

1) These games are the official 7.5 games a la FRLG HGSS ORAS.

2) GameFreak is now going to start making spin offs.

[Edit: Ishihara, president of Game Freak did say that these are Main Series games. They are officially not spin offs. This is 7.5]

So let’s get why option 2 is bad out of the way real quick. What’s the big deal about GF now having to develop pokemon spinoffs?

GF is a small team when compared to most video games companies. It has a reported 143 employees in 2018. Compare that to TellTale gaming, which is also considered to be a smaller studio, which has about 300 employees. If GF is now developing the Let’s Go titles on top of the core series and the core series remakes, they’re now spread so thin it could easily begin to damage the quality of the games. Hell, I’d argue you can see this in the quality of SuMo and UsUm. Many people pointed out that SuMo felt incomplete in a lot of ways before UsUm was even announced; and even though I prefer SuMo over UsUm, the first of the two can feel like a demo in a lot of ways. And a lot of people were hoping for more changes from SuMo to UsUm, but that never happened. Both of these issued could be attributed to smaller teams since some were probably siphoned away for LGPE.

But I hear you ask, “surely, with the Pokego gameplay in this, Niantic must be helping right?” When pokego launched, Niantic had 70 employees. Around now, if the met their goals, they have a little over 200, and if we’re being honest, Pokego needs all of them. I still like Pokego and I still play it often; but with them constantly doing new events, updating the game, fixing its many issues, the company hosting gofest, and them having to make sure their end is ready for LGPE to be released, they will not have anyone to spare. This isn’t helped with the fact that Pokemon Go is developed in San Francisco while GameFreak’s headquarters is in Tokyo. Whatever Niantic can offer just isn’t much. They have their own always online game to keep from crashing and burning; they can’t worry about Game Freak’s.

Now, you can hope GF can manage and would know better, but a lot of game companies have done things like this because of greed and over ambition.

Now let’s talk more about option 1, which I feel is what’s happening; these are the official gen 7.5 games. Which, I again, wouldn’t mind. I think it’s refreshing tho i’m sure poor Sinnoh fans wouldn’t agree haha but here’s the issue with that: the new core games and remakes have always built off the same system. Graphics, game play, online play, all of it. Which makes sense; they build stuff for the new games and rework it to work for the remakes. It’s just good business sense. But if that’s true going forward, than that means we have to look at LGPE as being intermingled with the core series, and that’s what has a lot of people scared. It’s one thing to be able to bring in pokemon from go into a park to play; but what about the catching system? No wild pokemon battles? The list goes on. And we know that not every new thing in a game goes on to the next. If it did “pokemon following us” wouldn’t be one of the most exciting things about LGPE; but it doesn’t change the real concern that, if these games are successful, GF wouldn’t start mingling them into the core gameplay.

Do I think it will happen? In the next game, no; but after that, I have no idea. Video games are a bushiness at the end of the day, and companies will follow the money.

There’s another smaller worry based of option 1 also: that these Let’s Go titles are the new face of pokemon remakes.

Stick with me here; GF has always made the remakes as technology demanded it.

-FRLG were made because, at the time, getting a hold of a GB or GBC and a copy of gen 1 games was difficult. They also needed a way to get gen 1 pokemon onto RSE since you could no longer trade between the hardware.

-HGSS was the same, as gen 4 was still trying to play catch up on getting all the past pokemon onto it, and it was now ever harder to get a GBC and a copy of GSC to play.

-ORAS came out because, with the 3ds taking over, there was no reliable way to play GBA games anymore. That went out with the DS.

This is also a big reason they had no push to make ORAS for the DS after gen 5, as it would have still been playable in its original state on that system. And they show no gusto in getting a gen 4 remake to us, as you can still play that on a 3ds right now. And tho the switch is a resounding success, Nintendo doesn’t seem to plan on dumping the 3ds anytime soon; and if they don’t, there is no pressing need to remake gen 4. You can already play it.

So, if there was ever a time to switch the format for the remakes, now is the time to do it. But why do it? Why change the style so drastically? Simple; pokemon go. Pokemon go is still going strong despite people joking that it died. If every few years a game with Pokego style gameplay came along to bait back older fans who don’t have the time/desire for a full pokemon game, it could be enticing. In fact, I believe LGPE is directly targeting that crowd of gen 1 fans: people who got out of the series after the 1st or 2nd gen. These people by and large at least tired out pokemon go; and I feel like a lot of them will have eyes on LGPE. And between the companies comments that “we think fans of the original games will find something to like” (despite knowing that most core fans hated Pokego’s stripped down style of play) and the trailer noting “your first adventure in a new style” I’d bet money that’s the group they most want to entice with this game.

Now, I personally think that this entry is trying to bridge the gap for pokego’ers who aren’t still playing the main series game to get back into them. And I think it will work. And if it works to the tune of thousands (or even millions) of extra sales, why not continue it? Why not have a new Let’s Go entry every few years to tempt the most casual poke-fans into the series?

Once again, I’m excited for LGPE. The small child in me who never got over Gary stealing her Eevee at the start of Yellow Version can finally be appeased. However, we can’t let that excitement gloss over real questions and concerns people are having about the future of the franchise. By no means let it ruin your fun; I’m not. But maybe be a little more understanding of why others aren’t sharing in our hype.

These game could be a sign of big changes in the future; and that’s worth some attention.

#pokemon #let's go pokemon #let's go pikachu #Let's go Eevee #LGPE #long post

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meltangospelhour · 3 years

Text

Notes on Reverie & Discipline: Chapter 2

Format: 1st Person Narrative

Chapter Rating: R / +17 [Smut, smut, smut]

Chapter 1 // Chapter 3

Candela

In the sense of Pokémon types, Steel and Ice have quite a bit in common. In the world outside of Pokémon, these rules apply, too! Steel needs fire to be born. It must be tempered and strengthened. Too hot, and the steel can lose its strength. It isn’t an issue of control--the steel has to know when to step away from the fire and show its strength on its own. It must accept its limits. Through fire, steel can also be reborn; combined with more elements to restore what’s lost in the flame, and properly worked into something possibly more brilliant and better than before. Steel fears fire because it never knows what it might become on the other side of those flames. If it stagnates and never exposes itself to the heat, it risks rusting and crumbling into something unsalvageable.

Ice, on the other hand, must be exposed to fire to become water. In order to protect itself, it must suffer, evolve, and conquer its enemy in its new form. A fire too hot can evaporate it. But, even then? Water isn’t defeated; it finds new life in a different form; rain, or snow. And it becomes ice once again. It has a fluid and harmonious cycle that moves like Suicune. Even through its most ravaging moments, it’s still graceful. If ice wants momentum, it has to discover fire. Some ice is content staying in the cold darkness. But, if the ice becomes restless, it has to change form.

It’s also helpful to fire at the forge by cooling the steel down so that it isn’t consumed beyond repair. Water is their mediator.

Does that mean…

... Water marries fire and steel?

…!

These kinds of parallels helped me understand Pokémon types, and helped me teach trainers who gravitate towards certain types. As far as Steel and Ice goes, I appreciate both types, but I’ve come to prefer the occasional company of dragons and even ghosts alongside my fire.

You don’t even have to specialize in dragons to behave like a dragon, but some people just… are.

“Little fangs like Raihan?”

“Nope.”

“Salamence maw like Leon’s beard?”

“Nah-uh,”

“Garchomp stance like Cynthia?”

“...Perhaps? Huh, she does kind of stand like one--”

“A tail.”

“S-sonia!”

That was the topic of discussion Sonia and I were having. I had an assignment at the mobile lab with Professor Willow. Professor Magnolia (Senior) called in for a remote collaboration between our laboratories. While Willow stepped out to grab a few extra components from his Jeep, Professor Magnolia (Junior) and I had our own banter while performing the initial setups necessary for our work to begin. For a little, almost as a ritual with these remote collaborations, I'd spoken with her about a nameless entity who was dear to me, but had been weighing on my mind. I described their appearance to her, abstaining from photos, and let her vivid imagination do the rest. I couldn't tell if she believed me, was humoring me, or genuinely enjoyed the way I spoke about them.

Why and when did I start telling her? Right; that night she wanted to talk outside of work, after I’d finished my inspection of a new Valor facility. She’d mentioned how she'd felt for Leon, and wanted someone close, but distant, to confide in.

Somewhere along the lines of Sonia’s confession, I’d let my mask slip off.

“...Wow, I think I can really relate to that,” I said, like a fool.

"...What do you mean?" she asked.

Why did I answer? Because it felt good. Perhaps my heart needed it more than I’d care to accept. Since that night in the field over a year ago to this day, I felt like a pressure cooker. I opened up some parts of myself to the Professor, but only the parts that mattered to him. Sonia saw the parts of my heart I’d kept hidden from everyone else, and only the parts that related to the story.

(The way she spoke of Nessa and the conflict she felt in her heart between her and Leon… That was rather relatable, too. But I didn’t want to admit it made no sense to say so.)

Looking at it, she's been the one I've opened up the most to. We'd only spoken for a few months over the course of the project and a few video calls. Just as she had wanted in me with the topic of Leon, I found Sonia to be familiar enough to open up towards, but enough of a stranger to where she wouldn't pry. She doesn't know me well enough to put the pieces together.

...Unless she mentions it to Willow. Fortunately, she never did. Their talks, like with myself and her grandmother, always remained casual, yet academic.

Even after four years, no one else really knows the entire story, aside from--

“From how you've described them, I think they'd look almost like a Garchomp. Wouldn’t you think?” she asked.

“...I can see it, but this person is a Mawile. At least right now.”

“Who’s a Mawile?” Willow’s voice startled me when he stepped inside of the mobile lab. I didn’t think he’d be back so soon.

“S-steven Stone is!” I replied. I gave Sonia a knowing wink, then swapped chairs with the professor.

“Really?” Willow replied. “He seems more of a Metagross!”

I could only grin and agree. A Metagross? Certainly.

🔥🔥🔥

I talked! I talk... a lot. And I talked throughout our lunch. I have more than enough to talk about. Whenever Professor Willow gets that look in his eye, that tension where he wants to clearly ask me something that might be a hard subject to bring up with me, I’ll do one of two things:

Give him a very long-winded answer that only exhausts him and never gets to the point. (With him being an introvert, I take advantage of his lack of conversational stamina outside of work-related things.)

Stop talking and instead answer him when I’m ready.

Within our group, Professor Willow knows the most about what happened between Arlo and myself. Lately, after our annual festival, he seems much more on-edge. Perhaps he noticed I'd been tense? I realize that this isn’t the time to push his words back. I’m quiet as I chew my food, but I chew it more slowly. I make eye contact with him. His bottom lip trembles, he carefully chooses his slowly-spoken words as he speaks to me:

“...Y’know; I was thinking back to the other weekend at the festival, and I just wanted to make sure everything was alright after your encounter with Arlo.”

“Of course it is,” I reply, making sure to add enough delay to be organic, but not so much as to make the professor assume I was hesitating; or worse, lying. “I’ve made my peace with the fact that I want to incinerate him for what he’s done.”

“I mean, when you rode off with your Rapidash like that--”

“I was still angry,” I quickly interrupted.

“I see.” The Professor looked relieved. “The both of you must have been so very close.”

...Why are you prying again? Don’t pry, Professor; I’ve told you everything that I’ve wanted to tell you. I could tell you wanted to ask me more on our walk back. How much did you want to know? How much of it was vital to our work?

How much of it could be considered ‘professional?’

Someday, I’ll tell you everything. It’s not time yet; not today.

“We were,” I choked up. I could cry on cue, but it was especially easy to do today; the food we had ordered was pretty mediocre and I had nearly gagged on it a few times. Besides wanting to eat on time, I wasn’t even sure why I continued to eat it beyond not wanting to disrespect the professor for insisting upon treating me to a meal. I should introduce him to better eateries in the area. He himself isn’t a bad cook, and I had already handled our breakfast; but we just didn’t have the time to do any extra cooking with our deadline for the data Professor Cerise and Doctor Fennel had commissioned us for.

This was a good cue to leave the table. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I need to go for a walk. I’ll be back to finish my section in a bit.”

I left behind the guilty face of the professor, and, even after my return, kept my back turned to it as much as possible in the sanctuary of data. My Vulpixes fought over my lap, eventually compromising that there was enough room for the both of them as I took down notes that would have to be categorized and elaborated upon later.

I have two phones: one for my work, and one for my personal life. I don’t dare mix the two; it’s important to remain organized with this kind of thing. Maintaining a certain image as a leader is important; but having an access point for a more grounded life is also required for that balance to even exist. I had considered getting a Poryphone instead of a Rotomphone for my personal use. Despite lacking certain features, the security on those phones were immaculate.

But, I got a two-for-one deal. Hard to resist!

It was on my personal phone that I also received some very odd notes that I couldn’t trace the origin of. Today, it buzzed in the middle of my work. I checked the message:

[Beautiful]

I didn’t know what it meant and I tried not to assume. Even so, my cheeks felt warm upon just reading the word.

{Is this a new passcode?}

[The progress that everyone has been making has been beautiful.]

Oh.

I smiled.

{We couldn’t have done it without your help! These little details you’ve sent us have been giving us the edge!}

I put my phone aside, hands back on the console… then reached for the phone again. I was curious about something...

“You okay, Candela?”

Hands back on the console. Was I smiling too much? Willow swore up and down that he could see my smile from 100 meters away. I don’t think he was lying; I have a rather radiant set of teeth, if I do say so myself.

“Everything’s fine!” I bent my head back while my Vulpixes licked at my chin.

They only did this to me when I felt tense.

Summer, after the festival; I remember riding off and standing in that field. What would be dismissed as a ride of emotional impulses was really a chance to be alone with my thoughts. I could still hear Blanche’s voice echoing in my ear.

...That was part of the problem.

When the wind hits the grasses in this field, it almost sounds like the sea. They bend back and roll like large, looming waves over a storm. On a summer night like this, it’s easy to smell the fresh greenery and any fragrance from nearby berry shrubs along the edge. It brought back memories.

Desires.

Even my Rapidash is weary to graze due to the fact it may disrupt the tranquility.

...Or, that’s what I’d like to think. It'd filled itself up with berries and other treats during the festival. Still, I encouraged it to take a few bites of grass; it would help with digestion. I made sure the food offered for both humans and Pokémon weren’t junk, but they could still be considered quite indulgent, and everyone caught up in the revelry could be prone to overeating. I fully expected to return to Spark nursing a tummy ache before dinner.

Because I had my hand running down Rapidash's back, I felt its muscles seize up. No words were needed to ask what the matter was; immediately following this, I felt a heavy presence around me. The beauty of the twilight field had to fall upon the backburner while preparing myself for what may be there.

It wasn’t a Pokémon. Pokémon were easy to sense. You’re around so many every day that you understand the signature of a curious or passing creature, versus a human with intentions.

My Rapidash lifted its head and focused on something, but didn’t attack. I soon felt soft fingers over my eyes. My mind immediately processed the oddity of the situation. If my Rapidash wasn’t attacking, then who--

Who did I want it to be?

Your heart had to be racing as fast as mine.

Hug me from behind. I want to feel it.

Apologize for making me wait.

Make it up to me?

Take your hair down; it's only you and I now.

“Who--!? Wait--”

Soft fingers. Manicured nails. The person is pressed against my back and I can tell they are… This is either a D or an E cup--

“S-sonia!” I cried whirling around and cupping her hysterically laughing face in my hands. "Sneaking up on people like that is my bag!"

“Sorry, Luv! Willow sent me to find you! He said you weren’t answering your phone, but that you must’ve not gone too far off. Lo and behold, here you are! Ready to eat?” Her Yamper had followed, and it was running circles around my Rapidash. Quite a cute sight that helped me get my mind off of things, for the moment.

“I…” I should eat on time. I really didn’t want to. I wanted to stay out here and think… And wait for… nothing? But this was once a year we all got together like this. And this year was really special: Sonia and Professor Magnolia had come all the way to Galar to celebrate with us, so it would be incredibly disrespectful to say no.

While cradling her Yamper in her arms, Sonia and I mounted my Rapidash, and rode back to the festival grounds in no time thanks to its speed.

Like yin and yang, my Vulpixes were curled up together at the foot of the bed. It looks so pretty, the way their fluffy tails embrace one another when they’re asleep.

Yin and yang; fire and ice.

Contrasts are nice. Sometimes people are so alike in these kinds of differences.

I laid in bed, on my back and propped up against my pillows so that I could look out into the wilderness and towards the horizon from the window walls. When I had a lot on my mind, sometimes meditating upon the glow of a fire helps me sort through my thoughts. Tonight, I was met with an array of the most powerful flames in the universe: the stars themselves. With no moonlight to disrupt them, their twinkling in glowing bands across the sky would be my fire tonight. Starpieces and stardust shattered across the vastness.

[Beautiful.]

That message. I wanted to see it again. I had been getting messages to my personal phone like that for years.

I didn't know who it was from, and I foolishly and perhaps dangerously played with the idea that it was from someone specific.

I reached for my personal phone. I wanted to send them, whomever they were, a photo of what I was seeing.

Why, though, was I was projecting so much upon this mysterious informant? I wanted so badly for this to be something that you’d read in some novel full of the perfect mix of action, adventure, romance, and intrigue. I love burying myself in stories like that! I always think about the one I read about a spy and the budding romance between them and the faceless entity they sent information to. In the end, everyone was successful; but the spy couldn’t reveal their identity. The faceless entity, revealed to be an empress, was left with a legacy of peace throughout her empire, but forever wondering who that person was she found herself confiding in. The spy, happy but broken hearted, had to leave the empire and assume a new identity.

...Come to think of it, I kind of hate that story.

Still, that’s not me. I’m not an empress. There are a lot of things that come with my duty. Maybe I haven’t realized the full scope of my potential in this role. Words from the past resonate in my mind that remind me that I never would in full, which made me ideal for this role. That’s what keeps me from becoming a greed-driven leader in the vein of Giovanni, and made sure I continued to improve and persist with a healthy sense of ego, confidence, and empathy.

The potential for power is there. Always there.

I want the power to take away from Giovanni just like he’s taken away from us.

From me.

The bed is extra comfy tonight, and my thoughts are too scattered to really appreciate it. But then, my phone buzzes in my hand, and my heart palpitates so hard that it gives me pain; who is it? I don’t want to check it out of fear of who it won’t be; and I don’t have to, at this hour! But, I do anyway. Not many people can reach me on this phone. So, it must be important.

Ah, it’s a call.

It’s Blanche.

I suddenly felt guilty. Why? All of the reasons that I could think of weren't rational.

“Hey,” I answer, my voice trudging through an unexpected yawn.

“Candela,” Blanche replied, curt, but soft. Unexpectedly breathy. They must’ve been alone. “Did I wake you?” they ask.

“Nah-uh,” I answer. “Everything alright?”

A pause. I noticed, when they are nervous, Blanche’s hesitation lasts as long as whatever is about to come out of their mouth next. They’re rehearsing in their head whatever it is they’ve prepared to say.

“...I simply wanted to see if you were doing alright. You’ve not said much since the battle; likewise, you spent most of your time with Sonia during dinner. Not wanting to interrupt as well as enjoying my own conversation with Professor Magnolia-Senior regarding the Dynamax phenomena, I figured that I would inquire about your well-being at a later time. My original plan was to contact you in the morning; however, I’ve found that I cannot sleep until I am reassured that your mind is at peace, tonight, Candela.”

Blanche’s voice remained fluid and stable enough to make me tense, until they uttered my name in that serene tone. It was like skidding across slippery ice and landing in soft, powdery snow. There was something in their voice that conveyed that; like a cooling, gentle breeze. “I… I appreciate that,” I told them. “I’m fine. Like I told the Professor, I made my peace with everything that’s going on with Arlo.”

“...Have you really, Candela?” Blanche suddenly snapped. There was a rock under that powdery snow. It’s 2AM, neither of us should be on edge at this hour. Especially not Blanche, of all people. “Have you really given up on him so easily?”

A Charmander on a sinking raft, its tail barely above water. Just that quickly, that’s what I felt like.

Too many people dismiss Blanche as lacking emotional intelligence. Just because they have a hard time expressing themselves in ornate and nuanced ways doesn’t mean they miss the cues of others. It’s a requirement for both a team leader and a good Pokémon trainer to be able to read people in their entirety. What wasn’t being done and said could often be louder than what was being done and said by the subject. While I certainly didn’t dismiss them, I must’ve let my own guard down around them.

But where, and when?

Perhaps I never had to. There are premium seats in this theatre, and I may have offered one to this particular someone without realizing it. I’d given Blanche an angle where they could peek behind that mask.

Well, I can’t throw you out. What do you think of the show? One of these days, I’ll give you a personal performance!

...Wait; what am I saying? What am I even thinking? This is Blanche, not--

“...I have to, for now,” I replied, my voice heavy with fatigue and emotion. “If I focus too much on him, I’ll bring everyone down and Team GO Rocket will gain an advantage. We have Pokémon to rescue and protect, Blanche.”

“You’re behaving in a manner that is unlike yourself. Perhaps it is my fault for reaching out to you at an inconvenient and, frankly, selfish hour. If you want to end this conversation, then I implore you to be direct with me, Candela.”

I was confused by the accusation. On one hand, they were exactly right; I hadn’t written off Arlo, but I knew how to juggle. On the other hand? They were behaving in a way I’d never seen from them. For them to be this concerned, it’s incredibly sweet.

...And now I felt guilty again. But why?

“...It’s fine,” I murmured. “I like hearing your voice.”

“...As do I yours,” they replied, that soft, drifting snow returning. “Listen, Candela?”

“Yes, Blanche?”

“I would like for us to meet up sometime, outside of comparing notes. I would demand a visit right now, but, outside of emergencies, that’s an irrational thing to do at this hour.”

It really isn’t, Blanche. I could recall more than a few incidents in the past between myself and a certain someone meeting up late at night. That being said, I really wanted to sleep.

I wanted to return to those thoughts, the sound of windswept grassy fields, arms encircling my waist...

"Stop by tomorrow," I said. "We'll have brunch."

I awoke to a bouquet of red and white mottled roses being delivered to my home.

I'd gotten them every once in a while after becoming leader, but could never trace the sender. Always anonymous. They were among my favorites. Some arrangements would contain them with a mix of pure white and deep red, almost black blooms. They weren't ever sent for any particular event; not even on my birthday. And even then, it would come exactly a week or two after that with a gift of some kind of precious jewelry often depicting a cute Pokemon or my initials. There was no other discernible pattern. Sometimes, they'd follow consecutive days. Others, a month would pass. It made no sense.

I had already planned on using this arrangement for the centerpiece that would be on our brunch table. Blanche had arrived on time, as always…

... With their own bouquet.

Carnations and peonies in red, pink, and yellow. So vibrant and exciting, I was almost taken by surprise to see Blanche choosing such a brilliant array of colors.

"I saw them on the way over and thought it would be a reasonable gesture of sentimentality. They…" Blanche looked away from me and extended their arm out to offer the bouquet. "... Reminded me of you."

They cleared their throat, as they often did when they felt as if their comfort zone were thawing out from under them. I cradled the bouquet and thanked them.

The roses had to go into the bedroom. For now, Blanche's gift would take their place, front and center.

🔥🔥🔥

Brunch was nice. We enjoyed our meal out on the balcony to take in the fresh air of the wilds. The heat of the summer sun had yet to kick in, so it was a pleasant late morning for us both. I even suggested going swimming before the afternoon rains arrived, but Blanche seemed unusually hesitant at the idea of taking up one of the few outdoor activities they truly enjoyed.

...I'm now more than certain my joking about not needing a swimsuit is what incinerated that idea. To go skinnydipping with close friends didn't bother me, but I respected Blanche's boundaries.

Spending a quiet day together at home was pleasant enough. I felt a certain bliss around Blanche. The sound of the rains made for a lovely and cozy summer afternoon. No words were necessary to be exchanged at some points; being so close to one another, lazing around, going through my study’s library and indulging the books, and feeling alone in the world together, was something I hadn't felt in a long time.

(Not since--)

I was in the other room, looking for an artifact that I had that I wanted to show Blanche before I sent it off to Lenora, per Cynthia's suggestion.

I felt an eerie quiet; not even the patter of little paws that followed the tension of suspecting mischief.

"Blanche?" I called out, and found myself running through my house to find them again.

I felt a knot in my stomach, a chill of cold anger and tension that felt new, yet from a familiar source I had yet to pinpoint. That guilt again. No, it's… not pure guilt. Was it ever guilt? I can't find another word for it.

How fast was I running?

Had I run through the entire house!?

This whole time, Blanche had been in the study with me, and had never left during my frantic outburst. My study, which was filled with all kinds of oddities related to my research and adventures, housed everything from precious children’s books containing accounts from young trainers on their first years of battle, to forbidden tomes filled with notes smuggled from the laboratories of notorious scientists like Colress and Ein.

One would think that I would be worried about them finding those latter things, but they were well aware of the gamut that my collection spanned and the types of material a researcher could amass.

However, my fears and reaction were justified.

Blanche stood at my desk with a picture frame in their hands, their concentration upon it, intense. I only had one photo on that desk, at the time.

"...I had never paid attention to the photography you kept in your home, Candela," they said, speaking at a slower pace than normal, which implied the weight of the thoughts that bogged their mind against potentially calloused calculations. "Acknowledging them was often unrelated to our note sessions. So, I had refrained."

I fought hard to hide my emotions, but, even with their slight glance, I could tell they knew something was up with that picture they held.

"...And yet, I had seen this picture several times with my mind in a different place than before," they continued, never once looking up at me. "The angle that I was often positioned and my proximity made me dismiss it quite often. But now…"

Would Blanche be able to recognize the man with his arms around my waist in that photo we took during our vacation to Wyndon years ago?

Hair down, the rays of sunlight captured in the photo obfuscated the true color of his locks, but the lushness was undeniably his. Without the huge spectacles and the bratty sneer, the princely, cherubic face that rested on my shoulder in the photo was unobstructed in its undeniable sweetness and felt like it belonged to a completely different person. Without that coat and those bulky gloves, his athleticism was pronounced to the point where it was clear he was a higher ranking performer in Team Valor; his hands, elegant and large, were soft and well-manicured in a way that mirrored his upbringing. My arms were reaching up and behind his head to pull him closer to my own for the photo.

"Salacious. He's practically groping you."

I suddenly realized that recognition was irrelevant; Blanche knew about my past, so seeing photos of us together on its own shouldn’t have alarmed them. It was the positioning that we had taken the photo in that had given them pause, as well as it sitting out so brazenly upon my desk. The picture itself was pure in its intentions, but Blanche's appraisal was correct; that purity was an untainted passion between two people eager to toss themselves into the fires that blazed from the most primal depths. I gently took the photo out of their hands and tucked it away into my desk drawer. "...Perhaps it isn't the most appropriate photo to have out when guests are around," I muttered. “That just comes to show you how little company I have here these days!”

From behind, a pair of arms suddenly went around my waist.

I had hugged Blanche countless times, only to be met with an awkward pet in return of some kind, or the feeling of their body relaxing against my touch after initiating the affection; yielding without much reciprocation.

This was different. Those arms were trembling, and I was tense.

Now I knew exactly why I felt this guilt. I didn't even need to ask why Blanche was carrying on like this. I felt guilty because there was something growing between us that I had chosen to ignore; that I had flung into the flames that weren’t yet hot enough to scorch it away. I’d been stifling a magnetism that was hard to resist, and one that I was afraid to allow.

The trembling arms stopped where the press of delicate lips against my ear began. The movements of the one who often tensed when I came close were so suddenly confident and fluid. One elegant hand cupping my breast through my blouse; the other with its thumb hooked into the waistband of my shorts, determined towards its removal.

I trusted Blanche, and my tense body wanted to surrender to their fingers that were quickly discovering particularly sweet spots as their soft voice tenderly uttered and pleaded with me to give in. This was the logical outcome, they said. Forget the past, they said. Blanche is here to take you to heaven. This was Blanche's now, not his. You're warm. You're trembling. You're wet, and I know exactly how to handle wet.

To hear Blanche speak to me in such a way I'd never heard, that alone threatened to bring me over. I wanted to ascend, to wake up the next day in their arms, but things weren't that easy; Blanche knew it. Before I could even allow myself to utter a sweet moan that would have added more strife to our conflict with a layer of pointless jealousy destined to turn up in the future, I made them stop. Both of our hearts were racing and our breaths, heavy, with them bewildered by what had just happened, and me finding myself bent over my own desk with my clothing disheveled.

"Candela. My apologies. I'm not sure what compelled me to--"

"--It's fine," I interrupted, managing my most commanding tone possible in that state. "I think you should go. I'll see you at the next meeting in a few days."

I wasn't quite ready for a certain fire to be put out. For now, I felt more comfortable in entertaining my delusions about this made up romance behind the informant and their messages than ruining a professional relationship. Entertaining my memories and marrying them with this fantasy had given me an outlet, and the ability to avoid crossing the line.

Blanche wasn’t sorry. Blanche isn’t some naïve child. Blanche isn’t impulsive. They concocted a plan the very moment they touched that frame, down to the apology in case I backed out.

Blanche is still human; they aren’t immune to baser desires.

I hurriedly adjusted my clothing and picked up the objects knocked off of the desk from that moment. Blanche had dismissed themselves to clean up, but not before I caught the sight of them licking their fingers as they headed out to do so.

I hadn’t seen Blanche lick anything like that since Spark and I bought that cake.

I was right. Blanche wasn’t sorry. And... I’m not exactly sorry for nearly giving in.

Still...What if I let them--

No.

Blanche and I maintained our facades and I mandated that our note meetings be remote for a while, much to their dismay; their reaction very subtly expressed by them with a guilty side-glance and nothing more. For the time being, our minds were too stained with a lust we had to corral for the sake of our teams. Worse yet, the image of them licking their fingertips--after apologizing, no less-- remained with me. It wasn’t that visual alone, but the potential of what it could have led to that persisted.

I had an upcoming assignment with Willow for a remote collaboration between Professor Magnolia and Sonia. I knew he'd ask questions about my tension, and why I'd ridden off after the festival. I had to prepare myself.

Perhaps after this war is all over, Blanche, I might give you that private show. But, brace yourself; I have no idea how this is all going to end.

Chapter 1 // Chapter 3

#pokemon go #pokemon fanfiction #leader candela #leader blanche #professor willow #professor magnolia #professor sonia #smut #candela x blanche #candela x ???#leader arlo

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