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cosmirror · 2 years

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@poppicede : “you’re allowed to need help sometimes.” ( from pkmn professor mateo !! ) / accepting.

It’s not that she’s — afraid, exactly. She is, but it’s more complex than fear. Lusamine only - sometimes resented Lillie’s weakness, just as often seemed delighted with it; she was not harmed for asking for help so much as the help that her Mother was willing to offer was less help, more hovering, and hovering of the specific kind that made Lillie feel cornered and panicked, like her skin was crawling. She’d gone to Gladion for help instead, when she could. After he left, she supposed she simply...stopped asking.

It’s not that she’s afraid that the adults around her would hurt her for needing help — maybe she is, she thinks, feeling the wave of anxious panic that floods the space behind their skin. But that’s not what she’s most scared of.

“Y - Yes, I’m ——— sorry.” Her hand press together before her chest. The burns on her fingertips indicate that she hasn’t yet mastered the art of cooking on her own; Mateo’s tending gently to the wounds, tone concerned without being scolding. “I hope I didn’t cause you any trouble. I just — really want to be able to do this.” She knows plenty about cooking in the abstract — flavors that compliment each other, what it means to sear or bake. It’s just putting it into the practice that is hard.

When she asked Mother for help, it was just an excuse to make another decision for her. Mother, how do I make my hair look like this? became Lusamine deciding that little Lillie was too foolish to ever know how to take care of her appearance, so Lusamine should just pick her outfits and hairstyles for her forever. Mother, how much dinner should I have? had been little but an excuse for Lusamine to begin strictly controlling her diet — and that had spread to Gladion, too. Her fault. She believes that Professor Mateo — like Kukui and Burnet — are better than her Mother was. But never asking for help is a difficult habit to break when the stakes were as high as they were. Even now, she’s only truly comfortable asking Selene and Hau; even Gladion hasn’t achieved the trust he once had.

She’s afraid to ask Mateo for help. He already acts like a parent, more than even Kukui and Burnet do to her. The last time a parent knew Lillie struggled in a way that was related to food, that had led to years of never - eating - quite - enough ( or gladion sneaking her parts of his portion, and gladion going hungry was worse than her going hungry ).

But, she’s stronger now. Or she wants to be. Everyone says she’s allowed to have boundaries. She swallows, shoulders squaring, trying to find the stubborn confidence she knows she’d once possessed, before Father went away. “You can...help me cook, if you want. But I get to pick the meals, o - okay? And the portions.”

Mateo’s eyes widen, as if he’s surprised by the shy thing feeling brave enough to make demands, but then he — smiles, fond and proud. Her heart fractures but doesn’t crack / Mother used to look at her like that, and Father, too / and she smiles back.

“Okay,” he says. “That sounds just right, Lillie.”

#poppicede #disordered eating /#abuse /#✧ * but i’m my own ghost‚ & i’m afraid the light will go through me. — answered.#✧ * she is messy‚ but she’s kind; she is lonely most of the time. — main verse.#YEAH BABYYYYYYYYY #im imagining that prof mateo met lillie a few times before / during sun and moon thru kukui #and post game she gets a little bolder and able to make more friends #✧ * skeleton says‚ ‘my safety is in disappearing.’ — queue.

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akisata-moved · 3 years

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pmd au ramblings under the cut becos i am annoying

i was toying with the idea of ryo espeon instead of ryo glaceon for a total of five minutes the other day bc i know theres that whole thing about him being like 'haha maybe i have psychic powers!' and also people think his 'event prediction' was like, actual psychic ability which im pretty sure isnt ttrue but thats not what im here to talk about but then i remembered two things the first of which being

ryo is tech shiny and shiny espeon.... shiny espeon looks like this

so thats a hard no. my original thought was like 'aw pink ryo is cute' and then i remembered he wouldnt be pink anyways. so glaceon is fine i quite like that one (plus its a funny haha callback to how he was incased in ice bcos ice type :-] )

the SECOND thing i remembered is that the pmd2 hero literally. already kind of has "psychic" abilities. the dimensional scream is kind of a psychic power...? i mean its like, visions. ryo is the bearer of the curse ig

very much enjoying the idea of making random town npcs/guild members characters from the 72 anime. just because i think its fucking hilarious if 72 devilman existed here for some reason. i think him and lala should be the equivalent to loudred and sunflora. chaco is obvs chimecho and himura can be... someone... he can exist somewhere in there. might as well throw in dorango too why tf not

not sure about wigglytuff and chatot?

the guild + town npcs is kind of a case of like... just keeping the ideas there but mostly changing pkmn species to fit the character ig... like i like the idea of miko as like, diglett's role too (like a sentry type pkmn) but i dont want her to be a diglett lmfao

darkrai, being the big bad of eos (i THINK? tf...) can... maybe fit into some kind of role of, like, devilman god? i dont know. i might try to twist the story around too so that the situation with ryo and darkrai is like.... more interconnected so like satan + god. so maybe darkrai created ryo? i dont know if he can do that though. but this is my au. so. ok its 11 am i havent slept and that doesnt make sense but whatever

i talked about psycho jenny on my old account but i really like the idea of musharna psycho jenny taking the role of grovyle. i think it makes sense bc jenny always seems to be like, satan's #1 Demon Pal so it would make sense for her to take the role as ryo's pokemon partner before he met akira. sadly psycho jenny must die. but not really bc special episode 5 happens

i have NO idea who can take the celebi/dusknoir roles. celebi kind of has to stay the same considering its celebi and her existence as a celebi is sort of important. dusknoir might be changeable

sachiko azurill (: pleasant i think

OH HOW COULD I FORGET!!! Team skull is obvs dosu roku (koffing), masa (skuntank), and i actually decided on manjiro for zubat just because i can honestly make the design work out. theyre kind of based more on their characters from the ova than the manga...? but yaknow. team skull kinda has their own little redemption (sort of, even if they were dickheads the whole game) so it works out

ok i think this is all i got for now.... uhmmnhm UHM IVE GIVEN THIS WAY TOO MUCH THOUGHT OK

#louie.txt #im changing my tag its now #pokemon mystery devilman #ok cool byeee

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sage-nebula · 7 years

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PKMN - All She Never Wanted

Notes: I’ve been in a writing slump lately, so I decided to take up a writing challenge to try and force myself to produce something, regardless of quality. That resulted in this ficlet, which is a fill for the 30 Wounds Meme. Keep in mind that since these prompts deal with wounds, there is a copious amount of blood in this fic.

For reference, “Jigsaw” refers to the linoone we see at the lab. All the other names should be self-explanatory. Additionally, Alan is nine at the start of the fic, he is ten on the day Lizardon hatches (i.e. they share a birthday), and the end of the fic takes place some time post canon (though I’d say he’s still a teenager---maybe sixteen / seventeen? Somewhere in there). With that said, let’s get to . . .

All Gabrielle ever really wanted was to be happy.

She was happy. She had always been happy. When she was little, before she had a name---when she was just His Gible, her first trainer’s gible, His Gible---she was told that she was “jolly,” and she understood “jolly” to mean “happy” and felt that it was right. Back then, he had flicked his bangs and sighed heavily and said, “Arceus, I wanted one thing . . . whatever, this’ll do.” She hadn’t known what that had meant, and he didn’t seem happy, but she thought that maybe he would be happy with time. Maybe she could spread her happiness to him. She wanted to be happy, but she wanted him to be happy, too. Maybe she could make him happy.

She couldn’t.

The more she battled, the more she lost, and the unhappier her trainer became. It was hard to be happy when he was unhappy. She wanted to be---she tried to be, but he yelled at her every time she lost a battle, and threw things, and kicked other things. Sometimes he tried to kick her, and sometimes he did, but most of the time she managed to get out of the way of his foot in time. She understood why he was unhappy---she wasn’t stupid, like he said---but she didn’t know what to do to make it better. She did the training he wanted her to do. But her special attacks weren’t strong enough, and she didn’t know how to make them stronger. She was fast, wasn’t that good? And she was happy, wasn’t that good? Well, she wasn’t happy all the time. She was happy less and less now, and she wanted to be happy but didn’t know how she could be happy when he was so angry---

And then that boy found them.

It was the middle of the day, and her trainer had taken her to a restaurant where she had to battle other pokémon. They didn’t do well. She didn’t lose all her battles, but she took long enough so that the food was soggy and cold by the time her trainer got to eat it. He was angry again---he yelled at her on the sidewalk outside of the restaurant. And she tried to look on the bright side, she really did---she tried to point out how she had won, how she hadn’t even had to eat as many berries to make it through this time, but he was furious at how long the battles had taken and how weak she was, and didn’t know why he had to be stuck with a stupid, dopey gible---

And that was when that boy had spoken up.

He was standing down the way, and was small, for a human. He was wearing a white coat and had yelled at her trainer to stop “berating” her. (She wasn’t familiar with that word, but she thought it had to have something to do how much her trainer shouted.) Her trainer shouted at the boy to mind his own business. The boy shouted back that he was, and that her trainer had made his business public by yelling at her in the street, where everyone could see and hear. Her trainer shouted something else, louder this time, and His Gible---

She turned and fled.

She couldn’t take it anymore. All the yelling, all the shouting---and she hadn’t eaten as many berries this time, and her ribs ached where she had been knocked across the restaurant, and her jaw was hurting from how hard she had bitten down on a geodude’s head, and she had broken several of her claws. She was hurt, and she wasn’t happy, but she ran because she was fast, and she wanted to be away, away from all the yelling, and shouting, and unhappiness, and anger.

But she became aware, as she ran, that someone was chasing her. As she turned a corner into a plaza she saw that it wasn’t her trainer (why wasn’t it her trainer? Where was he?), but was instead that other human boy. As she realized this, she realized she hated him. He had yelled at her trainer. He had made her trainer even angrier. It was his fault her trainer wasn’t happy now, just as much as it was hers. Her trainer was going to be even angrier when she made it back to him. He might not give her any berries at all later, now, and it would be all that boy’s fault.

She was faster than the boy, or so she thought; she could easily outrun him, and make it back to her trainer. But he chased her from plaza to plaza, down each and every street, throwing himself across the hoods of those big machines the humans drove around in (cars, she thought they were called), and shouting after her. “Wait!” he said. “Slow down! Wait---I want to help you!”

Help? Like he had helped make her trainer even angrier? No; she wouldn’t accept that. He had to realize that eventually---she had to lose him eventually. But she didn’t. As jolly as she was (supposed to be, and wanted to be), it seemed this human boy was just as adamant. He chased her halfway across the city before he finally tackled her in a tackle more impressive than she had ever pulled off in her entire life, and they tumbled across the concrete as she sank her teeth into his arm.

“Just . . . stop . . . okay,” the boy panted, and he wrapped his other arm securely around her middle as he stood up. She was baffled he could lift her; he was small, for a human, so how could he---? “You can bite me, if you want. At least you won’t escape that way.”

He was right. If she was biting him, then she was hanging onto him. She released him and began to thrash, and he grunted as she kicked back against his chest and stomach.

“We can heal you,” he told her, and he started carrying her off. She took so many turns she didn’t remember where the restaurant and her trainer were, but she didn’t think he was taking her the right way. She struggled harder. “You’ll feel better once the Professor gives you some medicine at the lab, I promise.”

No, she wouldn’t. She was sure of that. But the stupid, scrawny, adamant boy wouldn’t listen to a single word she said all the way back to the lab.

- - -

He was wrong, but then he was right.

Her trainer never came back for her.

But that was okay, because Professor named her Gabrielle, and the adamant boy---Alan, she learned his name was---called her Gabby, and when she was healed up and broke the lab apart trying to find a way out to her old trainer, no one was even mad at her. That was how things were at the lab, she found; she could destroy things, and no one was upset, because they understood why she was upset. And they understood, too, when she felt bad; they let her help fix things, and they smiled and said she did a good job and patted her head, and for the first time in a long time, Gabrielle felt happy.

All she ever wanted was to be happy.

Professor let Gabrielle sit on his lap whenever he was seated and she wanted to. Alan always made sure her favorite poképuffs (the really sweet, sugary ones) were stocked, and he always sneaked her extras, even when it wasn’t supposed to be snack time. She didn’t have to train, or battle; instead, she got to play with the other pokémon around the lab, and got to help with them, too. Alan said it was like she was another lab assistant. Professor said she was a marvelous one. Gabrielle couldn’t think of a time when she had been happier.

(Neither of her evolutions were triggered by battle. Alan wondered why this was, and Professor suggested that maybe she always had the experience---that she had been ready a long time ago, strength-wise, but that emotionally she hadn’t been. Alan had scowled then, and had said, “With the way her trainer was, I’m not surprised.” He was unhappy, and Gabrielle didn’t like it when people were unhappy, so she had bopped his head with her snout, and he laughed. She smiled. She loved it when people laughed.)

She was already in her final stage---garchomp---when Lizardon hatched. She watched, so excited she was practically vibrating, as he crawled out of his shell and toddled toward Alan. They both looked so happy---thrilled, overjoyed---and Gabrielle felt caught up in the moment. She plucked Lizardon up off the grass and held him aloft, showing him to the rest of the pokémon, because he was such a little thing (and she didn’t think she had ever been that tiny), and she wanted to make sure they saw him.

“Look!” she said to them. Jigsaw stood up on her hind legs to get a better look, and the psyduck tilted his head. “Look! He’s here! Look at him!”

They looked, and most of them smiled. The combee buzzed excitedly and Professor snapped a picture, and Alan said, “I’m going to frame that tonight.” Everyone was laughing and smiling as Gabrielle set Lizardon back down on the grass, and Lizardon---as he had before---ambled over to stand by Alan’s feet.

Everyone was happy. And that was all Gabrielle had ever wanted---to be happy.

- - -

But so many seemed determined to not let it be that way.

There was her first trainer, yes, but he wasn’t the only one. Team Rocket---she barely knew who they were, except that they had attacked her twice, they had come to the lab twice and each time they did they used weird machines on her and stole her away. Well, that wasn’t quite right. Their machines---they made everything loud, made Gabrielle’s heart pound so hard it was painful, made it hard to see, and hear, and think. The first time she had fled, thrashing through the city streets as she tried to get away from them, as she tried to free herself from what they had done to her. The second time they took her away, took her to a remote part of the forest as they used their newest machine on her, and tried to make her mega evolve before she was ready. Everything had been even louder then, even fiercer; Gabrielle had been unable to hear anything but a jumbled roar of voices, had been unable to see anything but red, red, red. She was lost, she was scared, and she was furious, enraged, and just when she thought she couldn’t take it anymore, when she thought she would attack the first thing she saw to try and quell the screeching in her ears and through her scales, Professor was there. His voice, unlike the others, was clear and soft and gentle. Because he was there, she was able to smile, and he was able to hug her, and she had known then that even if everything wasn’t okay right then, it would be. It would be okay. She could be happy again.

But Professor wasn’t there this time.

Awareness was akin to a floodlight flaring to life in a pitch-dark room. One moment, there was a roaring in Gabrielle’s ears that muted all other sounds, and the sights before her eyes were dark mosaics at best. She couldn’t hear anything but the unintelligible screeching, couldn’t see anything but dark shapes, couldn’t feel anything but overpowering terror and fury that she was once again taken, and lost, and away from her home and family for reasons she couldn’t understand. One moment, that was all she knew.

In the next, blood---hot and sticky---coated her right claw. It splashed against her arm and spilled down her fin, working its way in the cracks between each individual scale. The roaring in her ears was replaced by deafening silence, the darkness in her eyes swept away to reveal a scene in blinding clarity. The device that had encased her head---some metal thing, like a helmet---was broken on the floor. And in front of her, her claw buried so deep in his chest it was wedged between his ribs, was---

She ripped her claw free from his chest with a scream so shrill and sudden her throat seared. The cavity was ripped wider; she had felt her claw scratch against his ribs as she pulled it free, and blood spurted from the wound before he clapped his hand over it. They were standing on Prism Tower---and she didn’t remember how she got there, didn’t remember why they were there, didn’t remember, didn’t know, didn’t care---but they were standing on Prism Tower and he, Alan, fell to his knees, his left hand over the gaping wound in his chest, his right arm wrapped around his stomach, his head bowed.

His blood was soaking her arm.

She didn’t know, didn’t remember, didn’t---couldn’t---not him, not him, not him, not him, not him, this was wrong, wrong, wrong and Gabrielle didn’t understand, couldn’t understand how this had happened, how she could---how he could be---

“Shhh,” Alan said, and she heard him, somehow, over the cries still ripping from her throat, because she couldn’t---couldn’t stop, just like she couldn’t before, when everything was dark mosaic and a guttural roar in her ears. “Gabby . . . shhh, it’s s’okay---”

It’s not, Gabrielle wanted to say, wanted to scream, but couldn’t for the hysterical wailing wracking her as she tried to figure out---tried to understand what she was looking at. It’s not, it’s not, it’s not, it’s not--- because he was hurt, and her arm was coated in a sleeve of his blood, and more blood was seeping through his fingers and spilling down his hand and splattering on his pants and his skin was pale and he was slumping to the side---

She caught him with her bloodied arm. She braced him against her claw and her fin and tried not to scream even louder at how wrong that was, how wrong this was, how she didn’t know or remember what happened, how she couldn’t have---but how she did---but how she couldn’t have hurt him, but she did, and he was hurt, and he was---!

“Gabby, shhh,” he said again. His eyes were closed but he was still talking, even more blood bubbling up from his mouth and dribbling down his chin. “S’okay, you’re okay now. They don’t . . . have you ‘nymore, you’re . . . s’okay.”

“But you,” Gabrielle sobbed, and she pulled him against her chest. “But you’re not, you’re not, this is wrong, it’s wrong, I’m---”

“S’okay,” Alan said again, his voice a mumble against her chest. “’s . . . not your fault. Not your fault, Gabby, they . . . made you do it . . .”

But that didn’t make it okay, didn’t make it better, didn’t make his breathing less shallow until she stopped feeling puffs of it against her scales---didn’t make his voice any stronger as his mumbling tapered off into whispers, which tapered off into silence as she held him and cried.

All Gabrielle had ever wanted was to be happy.

And she was. She was happy---jolly, they said---by nature, and she was happy at the lab, and she was happy at the lab because this adamant boy that she held in her arms had brought her there, and he and the Professor had loved her, and she loved them---both of them---and they had been happy together, all of them had, just like Gabrielle had always wanted.

Alan was still now, and her scales were saturated in his blood, and her anguish was high-pitched keening that carried over the edge of the tower, and across the rooftops of Lumiose City.

#pokemon #gabrielle #trainer alan #champion alan #fic fix #i don't have a relationship tag for them which is a crime but here is this #where are lizardon and sycamore during that last scene you ask? we just don't know #we also don't know who was responsible this time but my money is on xerosic somehow #maybe it was someone else tho idk #i did do some editing but i mostly just forced myself to write so #apologies for quality but #here's this #oh also - gabrielle is of course speaking in garchompese every time she talks here #but since it's from *her* perspective i thought it made the most sense to have it be actual words #but it does still just sound like garchompese to the humans present #prompt: die by your hand

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sage-nebula · 7 years

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PKMN - An Evolution of Trust

Notes: This idea came to me about a day or so ago when I was thinking about situations in which Lizardon could have evolved from charmeleon to charizard. It could have been a standard battle, sure, just like his evolution from charmander to charmeleon; however, with the bond between Alan and Lizardon being what it is, I feel like it had to be something a bit more. Thus, this was born. Particularly since I’ve been in a bit of a writing slump for a bit now, I wanted to force myself to write something in an effect to shake that off.

As a reminder (which is probably not needed due to these notes, but) I headcanon that Alan has nicknamed Lizardon, well, Lizardon, and that he did so from the moment Lizardon hatched, just about. This fic takes place when Alan is fourteen, and as such he has been in Lysandre’s service for about a year at this point.

- - -

Had Alan been blessed with a pocket of time in which to study, he would have liked to examine and unravel many of the mysteries of the world that resolutely remained unsolved. Mysteries such as why people steadfastly believed that the bone helmets every cubone wore were absolutely the skulls of their mothers (even when the cubone’s mother was very much alive and seated right next to the baby), or how ditto didn’t go extinct when they didn’t appear able to breed with one another, or why the Houndoominite the Director had sent him to retrieve was wedged in the middle of a canyon wall a few thousand feet off the ground.

Peering down at it from a plateau at the top of the canyon wall, Alan looked to his left and exchanged a frown with Lizardon.

The mountain range was off Route 10, near Geosenge Town, Reflection Cave, and a little village nestled in the woods that Alan felt was better off left alone. He and Lizardon had traveled deep into the canyon, not too far past where a pack of houndour liked to den in the autumn, in order to find the Houndoominite the Director wanted him to retrieve. He hadn’t been particularly thrilled about this assignment---this part of Kalos was an area he usually tried to avoid---but he knew better than to complain or argue with the Director. The quicker he retrieved the Houndoominite, the quicker he could leave. Besides, he had been able to skirt around the village entirely in order to make it into the mountains, and the mountains themselves weren’t bad. It was still too early for the houndour pack to be here---they were probably still back on Route 10, if nothing had disrupted their annual pilgrimage---but he had some pleasant memories in this mountain range that he didn’t mind thinking about. One, anyway.

“I’m going to have to climb down to get it,” he said after a moment, and he looked back down at the mega stone wedged into the canyon wall, glittering in the early afternoon sunlight.

Lizardon had been lying on his stomach beside Alan, looking down at the Houndoominite just as Alan himself was, but at Alan’s words he sat up straighter, and loosed a soft cry of protest.

“There aren’t any other options. There isn’t a path down there, and it isn’t like either one of us can fly. I’ll have to climb.” Alan glanced over in time to see a look of hurt cross Lizardon’s face, and he offered an apologetic smile as he reached over to pat Lizardon’s head. “I’m sorry. Don’t feel bad. It’s not your fault you haven’t evolved, and I don’t mind that you haven’t. You’re fine just the way you are.”

Lizardon pushed his head up under Alan’s palm, an unhappy croon rumbling in his throat. Alan scratched the top of Lizardon’s head gently for a moment longer before he pulled his hand away and looked back down at the mega stone. His stomach fell unpleasantly at the sight.

“It’s my fault for not preparing for this,” he muttered, more to himself than to Lizardon. “I should have brought a rope at the very least.” But the thought that the mega stone would be embedded in the canyon wall without a path down to it hadn’t crossed his mind. In his defense, Alan thought, the mountain range was littered with paths; there was a winding path nearer to the center of the canyon, along which the houndour liked to den each year. There were other paths on either end. Yet this particular part of the canyon had none, and that was where whoever had decided to stash the Houndoominite however many years ago. How they had managed, Alan had no idea; he wondered if this was one of the things the Professor would research if he had the chance---or if perhaps it was one of the things the Professor already knew---but pushed the thought out of his mind a second later.

Wondering that wouldn’t help him get the Houndoominite, and it wasn’t like he could call the Professor and ask. There was no use in thinking about it, and no use in feeling . . . anything beyond the determination he needed to get that mega stone.

“All right,” he said, and he took a deep breath as he swung his legs over the canyon wall. As he turned to face Lizardon he forced another smile, even though the look Lizardon was giving him in return could only be described as ‘deeply afraid.’ “I’m going to go get it. Wait here.”

Lizardon cried out in protest again, reaching one clawed hand out toward Alan, but Alan shook his head.

“No, I mean it,” he said, more firmly this time. “It’s dangerous, and safer for you if you wait here. I’ll climb right back up once I have the mega stone.”

Lizardon whined unhappily, but his arms fell back by his sides, his shoulders slumping, as he nodded. Satisfied that Lizardon would remain on the top of the canyon wall where it was safe, Alan began to slowly make his way down.

Though there was no path that led down to the Houndoominite, there were little footholds and pieces of rock jutting out from the canyon wall. Much farther down, a few of them even looked large enough for Alan to stand on at least briefly, if he needed to reorient himself. With as much care as he could, he lowered himself onto each foothold just long enough so that he could grab onto another piece of rock jutting out from the wall, and after a few minutes passed with no catastrophe befalling him, he smiled.

It really wasn’t as difficult as either he or Lizardon had thought it would be.

Of course, the second those words crossed his mind the universe deemed it time to prove him wrong. He looked down over his shoulder for the next foothold, and frowned at his prospects. There wasn’t one within comfortable range; the best he could hope for was one a little down to his right, but he would have to let go of the canyon wall completely in hopes of reaching it. Then again, it was a bit larger; he might be able to land on it just long enough to grab a hold of the canyon wall again using a piece of rock above it---

Lizardon called out to him in question from above, and Alan looked up and forced another smile.

“It’s okay,” he said. “Everything’s okay.” It was a bit hard to see due to the sun, but Lizardon didn’t look very reassured. The situation being what it was, Alan couldn’t say he blamed him.

He looked back down at the nearest foothold. He would have to let go of the canyon wall entirely, and if his footing slipped for even a moment when he hit that foothold, he was likely looking at a tumble down to the bottom of the canyon. If nothing else, at least death from this great of a fall would probably be instantaneous. He wouldn’t suffer excruciating pain, and he couldn’t imagine it would leave him alive but paralyzed. There was at least that thin, almost invisible silver lining to the situation if he happened to fail. And Lizardon would be all right, he was sure. Mountainous regions were good habitats for charmeleon. And he was smart; he could find a way back to the lab if he needed to. He would know to go back to the Professor instead of the Director.

But that was only if Alan fell, and he didn’t have any intention of falling. Not on purpose, anyway. He had a job to do, and he couldn’t do that if he was dead at the bottom of the canyon. He took a deep breath, gave the handhold he was currently using one final squeeze (and it was a bit hard, due to how his palms and fingers were slicked with sweat), before he simultaneously released the portion of the wall he was holding and stepped off his current foothold to drop toward the lower one.

Lizardon cried out in alarm, but Alan didn’t spare a glance up as his foot hit the foothold he needed. But it was too---he hit it too fast---

The angle at which he hit it, combined with his weight and the force of his fall, caused him to careen to the right; he grasped at any portion of the canyon wall he could get his fingers on in a panic, but somehow the entire wall felt smooth---merciless---beneath his touch. It wasn’t until he was nearly horizontal against the wall that he managed to secure his fingers on a sliver of rock jutting out from it, but that sliver was too far away from the foothold; he dangled thousands of feet above the canyon floor, Lizardon crying out again from the plateau up above.

“I---I’m all right!” Alan called, but even as he swallowed to try and force more strength into his voice, his voice cracked, as brittle as the rock around him. He dug his nails into the little handhold he had, and his heart throbbed painfully in his chest as he felt pieces of dirt and stone come loose beneath his fingertips. “Just . . . just hold . . .”

He wasn’t sure whether he was speaking to Lizardon or the little sliver of rock that was the only barrier between him and death, but he also knew it didn’t matter as he cast his eyes along the wall for something else to grab onto. He could try getting onto the failed foothold again, but he didn’t think he could get good enough balance on it for long enough to find a proper handhold. If anything, he would just fall again, and this time there was no guarantee that he---

His fingers slipped, and as he tightened his grip with his other hand to make sure he wouldn’t fall, the weak little piece of rock crumbled beneath them.

Alan was too taken by the sudden drop to scream, but Lizardon wasn’t. His scream echoed against the canyon walls and brought Alan’s attention up instead of back at the wall, and what he saw when he turned his eyes skyward was enough to rip a scream of his own from his throat.

“LIZARDON!”

Lizardon had jumped. He had jumped and was diving, his claws outstretched toward Alan even though there was nothing, nothing he could do, because as a charmeleon he didn’t have wings, couldn’t fly, and they were both going to die, both going to die because Alan was careless, unprepared, stupid---

Alan scrambled at his pocket, fumbling for Lizardon’s pokéball, because maybe, maybe if he recalled him then the fall wouldn’t kill him, maybe he would live---

A brilliant light suddenly flashed through the canyon.

Despite his rapid descent toward the bottom, time seemed to freeze. Alan watched, too transfixed to be afraid, as Lizardon’s form shifted and changed---as great wings sprouted from his back and his scales washed from deep red to vivid orange. Two horns crested Lizardon’s head now instead of just the one, and the flame that tipped his tail blazed more furiously than ever.

Charizard.

He had evolved into charizard.

Realistically, time had never frozen, but the second that realization snapped in Alan’s mind, time felt like it snapped back into place as well. Lizardon gave three strong beats of his new wings to propel him faster toward the bottom, his weight carrying him the rest of the way. Feeling dazed, Alan lifted both of his arms up as Lizardon reached down. It only took another second for Lizardon to reach him. Lizardon’s arms snapped around Alan in a tight embrace, holding him close as Alan wrapped his own arms around Lizardon’s neck, and in another few powerful beats of his wings Lizardon pushed his flight trajectory horizontal and then vertical, carrying them both up to the top of the canyon. He didn’t release Alan until he had landed safely back on the plateau, yet when he did and Alan’s feet hit solid ground, Alan still felt himself shaking all over.

“I can’t . . . believe it,” he said, and he spun back around to face Lizardon---Lizardon, whom he now had to look up at in order to meet his eyes, whose tail was now so large it looked like it could easily uproot a tree (at least partially) if he gave it a good smack. “You . . . you evolved. You evolved, Lizardon, you evolved . . .” He blinked, and if he had felt breathless before, it was nothing compared to how he felt now as a new realization ignited in his mind. “. . . to save me?”

Lizardon crooned an affirmation, and bumped his snout against Alan’s forehead in a quick kiss. Alan huffed a laugh, dizzy less from the sudden fall and more from the exhilaration of everything that had just happened, and placed both of his hands on either side of Lizardon’s head so that he could tug him down to eye level.

“Thank you,” he said. “You’re the best partner I could ever ask for, you know that?”

Lizardon snorted as if to say ‘like you have to ask,’ and his hot breath ruffled Alan’s hair. Alan laughed again, and that brought a reptilian smile to Lizardon’s own lips as he bumped his head into the crook of Alan’s neck in an unspoken request for a better hug.

#pokemon #pokeani #trainer alan #trainer alain #lizardon #the bond that overcomes reason #fic fix #and then a year later he meets a little girl named Manon #who tells him an unprompted story about a boy who jumped off a tower to save a pokémon #and she says ''you can't do that unless you trust each other right?''#and he smiles and looks away as if recalling something #and Manon says ''huh?'' because she doesn't know why he's smiling all of a sudden #and he says ''nothing'' because they're still strangers and he's not one to share his feelings #that's canon guys - that's an actual scene in TSME 1 #i just provided some background/reasoning for why he smiles right then ;)#imagine that he does share this story later - tells Sycamore for instance #tells him how he nearly died trying to retrieve Houndoominite #Sycamore just holds his coffee mug very tightly #''Professor? Are you okay?''#''Yes! Yes I'm fine. Everything is fine'' Sycamore says #looking like 8) as he does so. very tight smile. wide eyes.#he nearly died trying to get that mega stone thank xerneas for lizardon honestly #how many OTHER times has he nearly died hmm??#(well . . .)#also i'm not apologizing for the Genesis references. it's canon to me ok.#anyway here's this

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