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#the mudkip is really good

sincerely-sofie · 4 months

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Dadnoir Musings: The Fanfic

Lord help me I’m back on my nonsense. Finally making this monstrosity public.

Word count: 6,930-ish

Summary: Fragments of Dusknoir’s interactions with and thoughts on Kip and Twig (especially Twig) throughout the events of the game, leading up into the start of The Present is a Gift.

It was meant to be simple. He would travel back through a passage of time alone, the sableye making the journey separately to spread rumors of a renowned explorer before he'd quietly enter the areas that were handfed awe-inspiring stories of his exploits. He'd do a number of good deeds along the way to validate the rumors, and in doing so he would gain the loyalty and aid of an entire population in tracking down the grovyle and human that had gotten dangerously close to securing another time gear before vanishing entirely after their retreat.

He had heard reports of the grovyle being sighted in this time period. It was good news, certainly, to have reliable sources verify one another— but he couldn't shake the uneasy feeling he had at the reports. They always identified the grovyle, but never the human. Easily the most stand-out member of the trio of rebels— even moreso than the Legend in their ranks— and suddenly the only one unaccounted for. He didn't know much about humans and how hardy they were, but the grovyle’s habit of whirling her out of reach of whatever strikes were sent her way implied a distinct fragility— perhaps she'd been disposed of in the window of time that they'd lost track of the rebels.

He hoped that was the case. Everything would be so much simpler if it was. Still, he instructed the scouts to search more diligently for the human. He wasn't foolish enough to hope for much of anything anymore, and the fact that he found himself clinging to the idea of not having to execute the human himself left him wary.

Something wasn't right.

He entered the lively settlement of Treasure Town with a sense of dread weighing heavy on his shoulders.

***

His cover story gave him a particular level of sway over the local exploration guild. Not only did they eat up every word he said with an unmatched trustingness, they provided access to their outlaw reports and records of suspicious activity. There he was— the troublesome grovyle was reported enough times to give an area he was likely frequenting, but not an indication of his next move or where he'd hide away after brushes with danger. Dusknoir needed to wait and gather more information. The grovyle was rash— it wouldn't be long before he showed his hand.

In the meantime, Dusknoir would continue building Treasure Town’s trust in him.

That didn't prove very difficult. The townsfolk were exceptionally welcoming. They bore no doubt in his cover story. The Guild’s recruits were almost sycophantic in their hero worship, as were their elite, save for a team of two— and even then, the team that seemed wary of him appeared more cautious out of nerves than actual suspicion.

They were a young pair of recruits— much younger than the rest of their peers. Where the other recruits seemed at least well on their way to entering adulthood, these two were evidently the youngest apprentices in guild history. Team Venture was composed of a timid but eager mudkip and an odd charmander who seemed completely flabbergasted by basic social customs.

Kip was endearing in his overzealous enthusiasm— his excitement whenever Dusknoir interacted with him and his partner was palpable, and he introduced himself by name almost immediately upon meeting him. Another indicator of the two’s youth, then— he was so young he didn't quite grasp the finer details of when and where you should give your name. One might find the misstep offensive, but Dusknoir was flattered by the boy considering him such a close friend.

The charmander didn't give him a name. In truth, she didn't give him much of anything— she hung back when Kip and Dusknoir spoke, never really saying anything, just watching him with a confused look like she was trying to remember something long lost to time. She was a studious character— Kip didn't attend many of the workshops the Guild put on, but Charmander arrived early to and left late from every last one.

“She wasn't the one to ask to form a team together— honestly, she kind of rejected the idea at first,” Kip admitted to him while waiting for his partner to return from one such event, “but I think that now she likes exploring even more than I do!”

“Funny how things play out like that,” he replied.

“She's amazing. I'm so lucky to have met her. She's my best friend.”

He watched as the mudkip fidgeted happily with his scarf, a slight blush on his face. Ah. Definitely a bit of lilipuppy love on his end. He couldn't help his chuckle. “And how did you two meet?”

“Oh— um. She was passed out on the beach one day, but I thought she was dead when I found her and I— uh— I screamed so loud she woke up,” he stammered. “It wasn't a very cool way to meet, but I'm glad I got to meet her at all.”

“I'm sure any would react as you did were they to stumble upon a possible corpse.” His brow furrowed. “Why was she passed out on the beach in the first place?”

“She doesn't know. She's got amnesia, if you haven't heard— she doesn't remember anything about herself before waking up on the beach. Well, anything but her name and how she used to be a human.”

“What?”

Kip startled at the sharpness of his tone. “She… she doesn't remember anything but her name, and how she used to be a human? Is everything okay, Dusknoir, sir?”

It couldn't be. This was a coincidence. He hoped desperately that it was a coincidence. If there was a human in the time he had traveled from, then there surely had to be humans in the time preceding it. This was another human, unrelated to the one that had evaded detection for the last year or so. It was a simple coincidence.

Kip watched him nervously.

“Apologies, I… I was simply caught off guard. Humans turning into pokemon is a concept that I thought was only the stuff of fairy tales. That combined with humans having been long extinct makes your story seem a bit peculiar.”

“Oh! Yeah, it does seem strange, doesn't it? I don't know if she's misremembering or not, but she's pretty intent on how she wasn't a charmander before waking up on the beach. She took a while to learn how to walk, though, and she doesn't know how to control fire like a normal charmander— so it makes me feel like she's telling the truth.”

Dusknoir hummed, lost in thought. Kip ran off to greet his partner when she exited the meeting hall for whatever seminar was put on that week, and she caught him in a hug and showed him a stack of notes she'd taken during the seminar. Kip stifled a laugh as he looked over the pages— Charmander demanded he tell her what was so funny, and he meekly explained that her spelling was even worse than her handwriting.

“Dude! Not cool! I didn't even know how to read any of this stuff last year. I'd like to see you write a paper in English after barely getting any time to learn it!”

They wandered off, chattering all the way, leaving Dusknoir to recall the mannerisms of the human who had all but dropped off the face of the planet and recognize their echoes in the child resting her hand over her friend’s shoulders as they walked to the guild dorms.

It was a coincidence. Simply that.

(The thought that the human he'd been trying to… dispatch for so many years was only as old as Charmander sat like a block of ice in his belly.)

***

He tried to get more information on this mysterious recruit, and his efforts to find any background beyond when she first arrived at the Guild yielded nothing. It was as if Charmander never existed before appearing on that beach— no records of her prior residence, birth, or heritage were to be found— no one had ever even known she existed before Kip brought her into town. He wondered if it was a conspiracy between them— that the girl was playing dumb and the boy was lying to cover up what he knew— but couldn't place any stock in the theory. Kip was as guileless as they come, and he had seen Charmander attempt to hide surprises from her partner— she was an atrocious liar. They were genuine in their cluelessness.

He learned more that personified the child than he would have liked while posing faux-idle questions to the townsfolk.

(“That lil’ charmander girl is the sweetest thing. She's got the etiquette sense of an overturned stump, make no mistake, but she means no harm by it, y’hear? Keeps coming by to my storehouse to hide presents for her friends— asked for a second lockbox and everything so her partner wouldn't know she was collecting up his favorite things to give him later on.” The woman laughed. “She loves playing with my little one, too— it's the funniest thing, seeing her try to play with her. It's like she thinks she's made of glass. I keep telling Charmander she can be a bit rougher, but she still treats the girl so gingerly!”)

(“Ah! Charmander, you say? Yes, yes, she's quite the character. Loves wordplay, that one. Sharp mind, if a little dense at times. Always asking about the finer points of merchantry. If she weren't already apprenticed at the Guild, we'd consider taking her on ourselves!” A pause as his brother interjected with his own comment. “Ah! I'd forgotten about that. She's made such a habit of paying for those two’s groceries. She's always so mischievous about it— almost treats it like a prank. Keep in mind she's never told those boys or their mother who keeps paying for their things, and she's sworn us to secrecy about it— you'll not tell a soul either, yes?”)

(“Charmander is… well, she's one of our most promising recruits, alongside her partner. I've had my misgivings— those two have shown their immaturity at the worst of times, to the point of near disaster, mind you! If it weren't for Team Skull, I shudder to think of what would have happened… But they've got good hearts. Charmander started out one of the worst-performing recruits in the Guild’s history, but she's made leaps and bounds of progress. It's easier to look past her age when you see the stacks of pages of notes and research she produces— though it's significantly harder when you see the severity of her spelling! She gave me a paper where she'd listed several questions about expedition protocol, once, and I was appalled by the sight!” A nervous flutter of wings. “Everything she writes is phonetic! Horrifically so! Her handwriting is no better. It's to the point I've debated calling on a tutor to stay at the Guild for a time to provide lessons. I shudder to think of a recruit ever rising to the point she and her partner have with such deplorable writing skills. Should I ever meet her parents, I have strong words to give on the importance of education!”)

It was a coincidence. It had to be. She was a former human who had arrived in town at the same time that the fugitive human had disappeared, but that wasn't enough to be incriminating. He didn't want to think about the alternative. In his questioning the townsfolk, all he learned was how utterly normal this child was— how she had the same quirks and charms as any youth would, despite her constant efforts to seem mature and keep up with her older peers.

She and her partner asked him if he, in all his travels, knew about the cause of her dizzy spells and visions. There it was— the Dimensional Scream, and another nail in Charmander’s coffin.

It had to be a coincidence. If it wasn't, then this child's blood would need to stain his hands if he wanted to continue on himself, and he was starting to doubt how much he wanted to live a life with that fact haunting him.

It would have been easier if it was just death he was facing. He could handle the thought of dying, grim as it was. But he faced no simple looming threat of death, but one of complete and utter erasure from existence— if the grovyle succeeded, it would be as if he never lived in the first place. The same fate would be dealt to Charmander. If the existential terror wasn't enough, Dialga’s visceral descriptions of what erasure felt like were unsettlingly vivid. Dusknoir would simply have to remind himself that an execution would be swifter, less painful— even, in a twisted way, more merciful than what Grovyle was so resolutely seeking.

She wouldn't suffer, and he wouldn't be stricken from all of time and space. It would be a twofold victory, grim as it was— if it ever came to that. He didn't even know if this was the exact same human who could discern Dimensional Screams. All signs pointed to her, but if he refrained from learning anything more, he could claim ignorance. He could leave her in this time and simply dispose of the grovyle, and she would remain as she was, blissfully unaware of her origins.

He just had to stop asking questions. That's all he had to do.

Charmander came up to him one day with a newfound hesitancy in her posture. “Hey, so— I really appreciate you telling me about the Scream a while back. And how you came to help me and Kip when the Manectric Tribe came along, and you scaring off Team Skull, and all that, too.”

“Think nothing of it.”

“I don't really get Pokemon stuff, but I know names are pretty important, like, as a trust thing.”

“That they are.” Don't. I don't want to hear—

“So I figured I could give you mine? As a symbol of, like, gratitude or whatever.”

“There’s no need.” Stop it. Stop it, stop it, stop it, don't tell me anything, I don't want to know—

“Nah, I don't mind.” She smiled widely, puffed out her chest, set her fists on her hips. “It's Twig! Nice to meet you, or whatever you're supposed to say when you… um…” Her prideful posture fell, giving way to concern. “What's with the face? Sorry if I messed that up, I don't really know how things are supposed to— I just thought…”

Of course. Of course he was wrong to hope. When was he ever right to cling to such things? It was her, and he'd known it all along, but he stubbornly refused to accept it.

“I'm sorry, man. You don't have to look so upset.”

“Whatever would give you that idea?”

“You're crossing your arms to hide the fact you're frowning.” She furrowed her brow. “I'm not stupid, Dusknoir.”

You are, though. You're so, so foolish, and you don't even realize it. I could have moved on from here without ever confirming who you were, and you ruined it.

“Apologies,” he murmured tersely. “I'm just a tad overcome. I need a moment.”

“Oh. Yeah, no worries.” She awkwardly reached out and patted the back of his hand as she passed. “I’m gonna go and… I dunno, do some sentry duty. Sorry again if I messed stuff up.”

You should be. You did. Legends and Life, you'll regret this even more than I do when the time comes.

***

It was rather jarring to see the same human that Grovyle had been so determined to keep out of harm’s way laid so low by his own hand. Dusknoir’s appearance at Crystal Cave sent the fugitive packing, and he was left to tend to an injured Team Venture.

Twig shoved his hands away as he assessed the damage. “Don't! Don't, I'm fine— Help Kip! He's— I don't know if he's going to…” Her voice broke, and his heart followed suit at the pitiful sound. “Please. You've got to help him.”

It took a moment to locate the mudkip in question— Twig had evidently been making efforts to lead the fight away from where he had collapsed behind a large stalagmite, unconscious.

He had seen injuries, he had seen gore— but he had never seen so much of them on such a small body.

Twig wasn't overreacting in her fear of whether or not her friend would survive their encounter with Grovyle.

He knew enough first-aid to ensure Kip didn't bleed out in the moment, but lacked the supplies necessary to do much else. Twig was bundling Kip up in her arms before he admitted as much to himself, starting the trek out of the mystery dungeon on shaking legs— and only managed several strides before falling to her knees with a pained groan. She didn't protest when he lifted her into his own arms and resumed the journey with more haste than she could muster in her state— only curled tightly around her partner, to the point that her tail brushed her jaw, promising over and over again that he would be okay.

***

Chimecho received the two recruits and administered the care that Dusknoir was unable to provide, ushering him out of the room so she would have room to work in the cramped Guild infirmary. Left in the silence of the main floor alongside the unsettled guild members who had gathered together when they learned of Team Venture’s state, he found himself standing before the infirmary door, numb. Slowly, the guild members dispersed, the quiet tension in the air left unbroken as they awaited news of their friends’ fates. Chatot remained, noisy in his silence as he alternated between pacing and leafing through paperwork that he never gave more than a few moments of attention at a time. Dusknoir eventually had the sense to seat himself a ways away from the infirmary door and began sifting through the events of the last few hours.

He hadn't pursued Grovyle. He had the opportunity to corner the fugitive— there were a number of dead ends in Crystal Cave, any of which he could have driven him into and had the upper hand in a confrontation where he might capture him— and he didn't take it. He squandered the perfect chance to finally do away with the greatest thorn in his side in favor of assisting another of the trio he'd been tasked with dispatching. He could only hope that Dialga didn't learn of his misstep— there would be hell to pay if he did.

He was pulled from his thoughts by Chatot’s startled squawk as he shot over to the infirmary door when Twig stepped onto the threshold, though not fully through, heavily bandaged and with a pronounced limp. “What are you doing up and about?! You need to remain in the infirmary until you've been given a clean bill of health! I won't have you running about jeopardizing yourself— think of— think of what horrors that would do for the Guild’s image! Get back in there immediately!”

Twig gave him a weary glare. “I'm not going to sit around and watch while Chimecho stitches Kip back into one piece. Move over, man.”

Chatot opened his beak to protest once more, but froze upon glancing over Twig's shoulder— catching an eyeful of Kip’s injuries, judging by the way his feathers flattened against his body in fear. “A-Alright, just this once, then. But sit down! You look faint. I don't want to have you falling and giving yourself a concussion on top of all this!”

“Pretty sure I already have a concussion, Chatot. I also can't sit down unless you let me through the doorway.”

Chatot complied, fretting over her until she laid down on the floor and set her legs up against the wall to combat her supposed faintness that Chatot was so worried about. “Dusknoir, I'm dreadfully sorry, but please keep watch over this recruit for a moment. Chimecho will no doubt need more material for sutures shortly— I must seek supplies in town.” He didn't wait for a response, simply shot up the ladder leading out of the guild in a flurry of wings and panic, leaving Dusknoir and Twig in an vacant chamber.

She closed her eyes, falling so still that she seemed to be asleep. Recalling her mentioning a concussion, he reached over to rouse her— but her sudden words made him freeze with his hand outstretched.

“Chimecho doesn't know if he's gonna make it.”

He couldn't muster a response to that.

“You’ve— you've been around, you know lots of stuff. You've probably seen injuries way worse than those. Kip’s— he's gonna be okay, right?” He watched as she opened her eyes, fixing him with a teary stare as she waited for an answer. “... Right?”

He couldn't look at her. “His injuries are severe,” he finally murmured.

She turned to stare at the ceiling. He did his best to ignore the way her breaths stuttered and hitched, turning into quiet hiccups and whines as she rolled over and shifted to press her back against the wall and cry into her knees. Distantly, he wondered how she managed to cry so quietly, even when every whisper of a sob shook her entire frame with its intensity. He intently avoided pondering what had motivated her to develop such a skill.

It wasn't easy to ignore an injured, distraught child weeping only an arms-length away from him. He found himself unwillingly reminded of the sableye when he first took them in— Twig's situation was different, but the end result was almost the same— a child left adrift and frightened in the face of tragedy. Where the sableye had each other, though, Twig was left to weep without five siblings to answer the slightest whimper with unflinching support. Her partner— her only true friend amongst the Guild, from the sound of things— was on death's door, unable to come to her aid and offer the same words of comfort she had repeated to him as Dusknoir brought the two back to the Guild.

Despite himself, he reached out and set his hand over her back. She stiffened under his palm, and he nearly pulled away, but she caught hold of his thumb on her shoulder and held his hand in place. Her tears continued. He didn't say anything when she curled up tighter and her sobs picked up in volume, too startled by the memory of one of the recruits describing something to him.

(“Twig really doesn't like being touched. Not most times, at least! One time I patted her on the back because she beat my best sentry duty record, and she whirled around and almost took off one of my petals! Like, oh my gosh, I totally freaked! Kip said that she barely lets anyone touch her— you've got to be a real close buddy for her to be okay with it, or else it really freaks her out— but I didn't think it was that bad! Eek!”)

He kept his gaze fixed on the opposite wall and tried not to think about how she felt bonier under his hand than one so young had any right to be.

***

Kip survived, adorned with a number of scars that would remain for all his remaining days as a mudkip. Twig was glued to his side during the days in which he was allowed to exit the infirmary and rest in the dorms, and she became his crutch whenever he struggled to walk about the Guild to build his strength back up after so long being bedridden. The other recruits flocked around the two and made their concern known, offering to help with anything they needed as they recovered.

Kip asked for help checking a particular book out of the Guild library and sending word to Chimecho that the numbing agent was working a bit too well, and that he couldn't feel the fin on his head whatsoever. Twig didn't ask for anything— suddenly every bit as stoney, stern, and stoic as Grovyle had appeared in confrontations once they were separated— and said little over the following days. When one recruit waddled up to her after a workshop with carefully written notes and an apology for how he couldn't write as many pages as she always did on account of how fast the lecturer spoke and how slow his paws were, though, she pulled him into a hug that he meekly returned.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you—”

“Aw, shucks, it's really nothing! Don't mind it at all. I know how much you love those workshops. Me, though, I was lost as soon as the lecturer flipped the first page on her big ol’ chart thingy! You mind explaining how traps form in a mystery dungeon? She kept saying that it was important to know for this workshop, but I didn't go during the one where it was taught.”

She launched into a lecture of her own, more animated than he had seen her since her encounter with Grovyle, and Dusknoir was tempted to applaud the young man for so cleverly distracting her from her wounds.

***

With a trap laid for Grovyle, Dusknoir watched for the right moment to spring it. It didn't take long— the fugitive was gullible and impatient, a dangerous combination of traits that ensured Dusknoir wasn't left waiting for long.

Grovyle was secured— albeit perhaps roughed up a tad more than was totally necessary to capture him— and that meant he had to resolve the other loose end before he departed for his home era.

He called Team Venture forward, out from the back of the crowd where they always lingered. He only had to bring Twig closer, but to summon her alone would raise suspicions at this most critical of moments. She was slow to come up to the front of the crowd and made her way there leaning heavily on her partner when she finally appeared. Evidently, her refusal to rest and recover from her injuries had backfired, leaving her in a worse state than Kip was despite her having the lesser wounds at the beginning.

He only needed her. He could leave Kip behind and have a single child’s death weighing on him for eternity instead of two, if only they would stop clinging to each other for one measly second. He gave a speech describing his gratitude, waiting for the moment when she would shift her weight off of his side and onto her own two feet so he could grab her and be off— and there it was. He seized her in a hand and shot back into the passage of time, realizing too late that Kip was dragged along by her fistful of his scarf.

Great. Of course.

He caught hold of the boy when Twig’s own grip came loose and cursed whatever Legends were watching and no doubt laughing at his luck.

***

He really should have expected Grovyle would have another trick lying in wait before the execution. He'd hoped that Kip and Twig at least would remain unconscious for the act, but Grovyle's hissing and spitting curses his way roused them, and they were pulled along with his escape plan as a result. Dusknoir was going to kill him personally if things continued to sour thanks to him. When they had the three cornered— along with Celebi, even— he found himself possessed by the urge to twist the knife.

It was cruel to reveal Twig’s identity to Grovyle in order to stamp out any bit of resistance in him, but Dusknoir would be lying if he said it didn't give him some awful sense of catharsis to see the horrified guilt in his face— he finally realized just what he'd done by beating a child unconscious and nearly doing the same to a second one in Crystal Cave, and Dusknoir took a certain glee in his regret. Twig’s look of disgust at the reveal only drove the knife deeper. Good. He deserves it. He put out a hand and sent a shadow snaking along the ground, ready to take the wretch out—

— and Twig tackled Grovyle out of the way of the attack, putting herself in the range of the strike. He fumbled, dampening the worst of the blow before it hit her, but she still let out a sharp cry in response. Legends and Life, he would rather put the two youths out of their misery with something quick, but that was made difficult by their insistence to throw themselves in harm's way as living shields for the one target he wanted to suffer.

Fine, then. He reached out to snatch Kip up and snap his neck, but Twig surged into Dusknoir with such force she managed to throw him against a tree and lit a barrier of flame between them and her allies.

She kicked off of him, further dizzying him thanks to her using his eye as her chosen springboard, and landed ready to dash back to her group— but stopped short when she saw the long wall of fire between them.

(He'd never seen her use any sort of attack before that incorporated the flames she could manifest as a charmander— only ever using her fists, teeth, and even fallen branches to strike— and he suddenly recalled how he could count the hours at the Guild by how many times she'd let out a startled yelp when she'd see her own tail. Back then, he thought she'd simply never grown accustomed to an extra limb. It was with a bitter, weary laugh now that he realized she was afraid of fire.)

He reached out, hand outstretched to take her by the throat.

Kip sprang up from the ground that he had tunneled into and headbutted him hard, whirling around to douse the flames and shove his partner forward. “Come on, come on, we've got to get out of—!”

Grovyle snatched the girl up as he sprang for the passage of time, not even sparing her partner a second glance as he leveled Dusknoir with a deadly glare when he passed. Kip was only pulled along by Twig grabbing his scarf and pulling him into her arms as they darted into the passage of time, Celebi swiftly shuttering it and vanishing in a shimmer of air.

Lovely.

***

Grovyle hadn't told Twig what would happen to her if their efforts to restore Temporal Tower succeeded. Of all the things he'd done, this one failure to act was his most repulsive misdeed by far.

She was baffled by Dusknoir's question of whether she truly didn't fear erasure, looking to Grovyle for answers. He stuttered and stammered, resisting her request for the truth at first, and Dusknoir, for all his willingness to see his instructions to kill these two as just business a few seconds ago, concluded that it would be a lovely vacation to throttle Grovyle in particular.

One last attempt to dispatch Twig as kindly as he could was once again foiled— Grovyle passed on the burden of his mission to a child who just learned she was giving up her entire existence to change a future that was uncertain— and he forced Dusknoir into the passage of time.

***

Erasure was less painful than he expected. It was less like being ripped apart by every second he had lived and more like his very soul was slowly being brushed away, like he was falling asleep. Twig had gone through with her part, then. He hoped the event of her disappearance wasn't too frightening for her or Kip.

Dusknoir could feel himself slipping. He could barely summon the words as he asked, “Grovyle… My life… did it shine?”

Grovyle must have been just as exhausted as Dusknoir, but he smiled despite it. His hand shook as he reached out to grip his arm. His voice trembled with effort as he fought to speak. “Extraordinarily.”

It was a pitiful scrap of comfort— meaningless, really. But that simple response, combined with the sun rising behind the collapsed forms of his unlikely allies moved him to tears.

Okay. If this was how he was struck from all of time and space, it was okay. He would be able to accept it.

As dawn broke for the first time in decades gone uncounted, Dusknoir stopped clinging to the world about him, and let himself drift away completely.

***

To return to existence was unexpected. To be given a second chance at life by Dialga himself was even more unexpected. But perhaps most unexpected of all was how much he hated this bright future’s refusal to admit all of the terrors that had taken place on its soil.

Grovyle and Celebi felt similarly. The decision to immigrate to the Present was unanimous, heightened by Grovyle's late realization that if they'd been restored, Twig likely was as well— Celebi couldn't open a passage of time fast enough for his liking once the idea hit him, and he bolted through it the moment it was vaguely safe to traverse.

“… He's certainly eager to move in.”

“Dusknoir, dear, you know full well he's not leaping at the opportunity to pick out wallpaper.” She turned to the passage, face pensive. “It's been so long since I've seen them in this timeline… I'm almost afraid. How do I look? Are my antennae straight? Are my wings as dazzling as ever?”

He gave her a flat stare.

“You have no appreciation for beauty! Hmph!” She feigned anger for only a moment before glancing back at him, worried. “If you'd like a moment, Dusknoir, you can wait here and prepare yourself. I know you didn't part on the best of terms with our two little explorers.”

“I doubt they're very little anymore.”

“You're right! Oh my goodness, they must be full-grown by now… I'm going through, dear, but you come on out only when you're ready.”

He waited for a feeling of readiness to overtake him.

It never did.

All he could do was take a breath and enter the passage.

He was greeted by sunlight, dappled shadows, treetop canopies rustling overhead, and Twig's startled command for Kip to get behind her.

She was barely any taller, covered in scars he didn't remember her wearing when they last parted ways, and she had her fists balled up in front of her and ready to lash out the second he approached. Grovyle stepped forward and tried to explain, and her look of frightened fury gave way to confusion, then frustration.

“There's— No way. There's no way he did any of that. He's just trying to get our guards down again.” She cast a vicious glare his way. “What, was Primal Dialga a cover? Were you really working with Darkrai all along? Too bad, we beat your real boss months ago! Get out of here before I—”

Kip stepped forward, brushing aside his partner's threats with a smile. His words were sincere and simple. “I knew you were too nice to be faking it. All the times in Treasure Town, Amp Plains, Crystal Cave— I told you, Twig. C’mon, you owe me five-hundred poké!”

She sputtered for a moment as he simply held out a paw expectantly. She reached into her bag and begrudgingly slid a large coin into his waiting palm. He gave her a smug smile as Dusknoir looked between them.

“Do you two often bet on the intentions of those you meet?” He asked, unsettled by the well-practiced exchange.

“It’s a joke. Mostly. And we don't do it too much,” Kip answered.

He was scared to hear the answer he was certain he already knew. “And what started this routine between you?”

To his surprise, they didn't respond by pointing to him. Twig crossed her arms and murmured, surprisingly hesitant, “We got… um. Don't know if there's a specific word for it in Pokéspeak, but we thought we were talking to Cresselia, and it turned out it was very much not Cresselia that we were talking to. We started up the joke to deal with that.”

“A Cresselia that wasn't Cresselia— who would impersonate a Legend?”

Twig gave him a once-over, her suspiciousness giving way to exhaustion. “You know that Darkrai dude I mentioned a bit ago?”

The explanation that followed wasn't as horrifying as the manner in which it was told. Kip admitted his fears as he explained their subsequent clash with a Legend who masterminded Dialga's decay, but Twig dismissed hers. The blatant attempt to put on a brave face and minimize her own anxieties— anxieties which still clearly affected her, judging by the way she avoided eye contact and her tail’s flame fizzled and hissed while burning an anxious magenta— brought to mind a memory he'd almost forgotten.

(A bloody child shakily shoving helping hands aside, sobbing for him to ignore her wounds and tend to her partner. A refusal of aid in favor of assisting another.)

His hands curled into fists, and he looked away. Twig tensed and took a half-step closer to Kip, and the sight killed him.

***

Kip offered their motley trio a place in his and Twig's home as they searched for more permanent lodgings. They accepted, much to Twig's poorly hidden chagrin.

Everyone else had retired for the night— curled up in makeshift beds pulled haphazardly together out of blankets and pitiful amounts of straw insufficient for any real mattress. Grovyle snored loudly, sleeping deeply for perhaps the first time Dusknoir had ever been around to see, and Celebi had tucked herself tidily into her bed, breaths whistling lightly as she rested. Kip was doing the same a short distance away. Twig, meanwhile, sat at a table across the room, pretending to look over papers she must have read ten times each by now, glaring up at him every time she leafed through the stack anew.

The implication that she didn't trust him around her unconscious friends and had taken up watch to protect them wasn't lost on him.

She did this for multiple nights. She'd reached the point that she was nodding off in the daytime, exhausted by her nightly vigils, but she still kept them up. He had attempted to fake sleeping earlier in the night so she'd allow herself rest, but she remained awake even then— and so he swiftly gave up the ruse in favor of his typical pattern of sleep. Each evening, she'd take up her post at the table and start skimming papers with feigned interest, keeping an eye on his every move and tensing whenever he so much as twitched.

He deserved each terrified glower she gave him. His knowledge of his guilt didn't make it any easier to see one so young carrying the world on her shoulders.

She was grown now— likely nearing an evolution, if the reddish scales now dotting her skin meant anything— but she still had the eyes of a haunted child when the nights were long and her watch over her friends wore on her.

She finally slipped up one evening, her head settled on folded arms over the table’s surface, eyelids drifting closed until her breathing finally evened out and she fell asleep. He sighed with relief, but the reassurance that she'd finally get some rest was short-lived.

She flinched in her sleep, murmuring fearfully, fingers twitching against the tabletop she'd slumped over.

Uncertain of what to do, but called to help all the same, he rose and pulled a blanket from the meager sheets comprising her empty bed. She relaxed when he draped it over her, her hands no longer balling into fists and her tail’s flame glowing a warm, peaceful white instead of flickering between aggressive violets and panicked magentas.

She looked smaller as she slept— as if in her slumber she forgot to puff herself up and pretend she was self-assured and confident. She looked like a recruit too young to keep up with her older peers and too naive to understand the danger she threw herself readily into.

She looked like a child.

She looked like a child, but she'd never had the chance to truly be one. Between running for her life in the Dark Future, to taking on a schooling far too intensive for those her age, to waging battles with Legends and shouldering whatever trauma she'd garnered from all of it— she'd never been allowed such an opportunity.

(He was part of that. He was part of the reasons she'd never been able to grow up as a child should. He'd been part of the wretched selection of foes who robbed her of her youth.)

Dusknoir tugged the blanket higher around the girl's shoulders. She sighed a cozy, content sound, and he left for a late night walk.

He didn't mention the blanket come morning. She left it unspoken as well.

(She took a glance at her post the next evening and turned away, electing to sprawl out in her bed and snore almost loud enough to put Grovyle to shame.)

(It was a simple thing. Meaningless, really, and no great signifier of any faith that had been rebuilt. But it moved him near to tears regardless as she dropped off to sleep before any of the rest of them. She trusted them all to keep her safe and be safe in turn— and he was encircled in that trust.)

(It wasn't the unwavering faith of a child, but it was something, and it was something that meant the world.)

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amphibianaday · 1 year

Text

day 1104

also if you liek mudkips you gotta go follow @mudkipsdaily for some really good mudkip drawings

#amphibian #pokemon #mudkip #amphibidextrous #described in alt text

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t-tomuras · 4 days

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Pairing: Tenko Shimura x F! Reader

Wc: 2.4k

Warnings: Streamer au, fluff but minors still don’t interact. Initial meeting of streamer Tenko Shimura aka DecayDaddy

╰┈➤ 𝐃𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐃𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐲𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐒𝐢𝐦𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

It’s dumb, downright silly actually when you stop long enough to think about it. Utterly comical when you find yourself grinning too wide as you open up the little app you downloaded because some of your friends ‘needed your help with a task’ but who knows how long ago that was now.

Driven by the compulsive need to complete tasks now being your reasoning to continue to venture outside of your comfort zone into more social aspects for the sake of the game.

Because at least if you were going to have your nose in your phone you should at least be getting out in nature as well. Enjoying some outings and making friends.

You never would’ve thought that redownloading Pokémon Go would have your heart racing every time you went to complete your dailies. Or when you got a notification from your favorite username: DecayDaddy.

Swiping over to the ‘Friends’ tab after you’ve successfully accomplished a Field Research for the day. Scrolling down to pointedly ignore his name at the top of your list. Clicking each name, opening the gifts they’d sent you and sending one each back as you take the time to attach the precious little stickers.

Run of the mill Pikachu stickers for the random friends you’d added ‘way back when’ from a Facebook group before deleting your comment so you wouldn’t have to deal with the unending friend requests.

A Mudkip to one of your coworkers that still plays, a Sylveon to your friend you're sure only still opens the app to help you out (bless their kind souls).

Going down the list until you’ve caught up with everyone that needed them for the day and barely making a dent in the collection you have.

Leaving him left as you swipe back up to the top. Running your palm down your face because it was ridiculous really, maybe even a little insane, to be this fond of someone that you aren’t entirely sure who they might be.

Finally clicking on his username to open his gift and see one of the newer stickers attached to the postcard, a trio of oddish smiling and leaping over one another with flowers abound.

And you aren’t an insane person, not really, you swear.. well okay, maybe just slightly. But you can assure that specific sticker pack costs ten in-game coins because you like to collect them yourself, so it has to be special right? That’s what you do with them anyway, save them to send to your friends.

But you’re prone to overthink, the inner monologue beginning to run away from you but you can’t say that it’s far from completely logical this time. It was deranged to think someone you didn’t know, added randomly through a post on social media (even if the group was locally based) was flirting with you through stickers on virtual postcards.

Shame sits heavy in your gut then, shrinking within the covers of your mattress. Flipping over onto your side while you pull the covers high as if to hide yourself away from the sunlight seeping in through the slivers of your blackout curtains created by the fan in your room.

Groaning to yourself before just selecting your least favorite sticker of all the packs; the awkward looking, poorly drawn Marill while it spews water. Locking for phone as you shove your face into your pillow to give yourself one good groan before you get ready for the day. No real plans besides tidying up around your home and maybe a few non-pressing errands when your phone vibrates and screen illuminates the dark fabric of your silk pillowcase.

Turning over and holding the device away from you, screen waking to a banner from Discord for a friend request that nearly puts your heart in your throat.

Decaydaddy has added you as a friend

Sitting up as you frantically fumble to unlock your phone because of course the facial recognition doesn’t want to work in the lowlight. Tapping in the wrong passcode twice with an annoyed scowl to pretty features before you open up directly to the notification screen of the app.

You know it’s him because you can recognize the profile picture from his personal profile on Facebook but the similar handle to his Go account helps as well.

Who uses their actual picture on discord anyway? scoffed internally. Your own icon saved for whatever anime character you favored or kinned that week personally.

You’re thankful he does though, otherwise you would’ve denied his friend request and wouldn’t have received his subsequent message afterward.

DecayDaddy: I was right, I figured your handle would be the same as discord.

Your heart is racing, face warm with the rush of blood that roars in your ears because it should be a red flag that he found your discord from an app you can’t even communicate with one another from but it excites you.

Makes you feel stupidly giddy because maybe you weren’t completely delusional to think you were flirting back and forth based on stickers attached to postcards.

DecayDaddy: None of my friends play and you’re actually pretty close by. Do you want to meet up today to do some of the tasks for that dumb ‘a route to new friendships’ one?

Okay so maybe you were a little delusional, cheeks and chest warming with a burning shame before your phone chimes with another discord notification.

DecayDaddy: We could grab something to eat too, my treat. For helpin me.

Exhaling a breathless laugh as your rub the sides of your forehead, giving yourself whiplash but you’ll take this as a win. Hopefully you can actually flirt pretty normally without your trusted ‘cute’ stickers. Sending back a quick, ‘sure no problem! I’d love to help, just let me know where I should meet ya and when’ before resting your phone on your abdomen face down. Throwing your arm over your eyes as you collapse back into your nest of pillows to stare up at the ceiling.

Waiting a few moments before you get another message, assuming it’s from your mystery man.

DecayDaddy: No cute sticker today?

Ha. Maybe not so delusional after all.

You: Tomorrow 🤞🏽

But tomorrow is a relative term, you’re never going to get there, especially if you continue to let your anxieties get the better of you.

Truly you should consider it self preservation, what person in their right mind would feel wooed over a complete stranger finding their discord the way that he had?

Well, besides someone like you of course because you were the one flirting with him through stickers on a game about digital creatures you capture while wandering aimlessly for them.

It doesn’t stop you from messaging him frequently though, thankful he’s considerate and far from pushy. Tenko, you learn his name to be, isn’t one to spam either but the conversation continues with mutual interest; branching from just typical pleasantries or sticking solely to talking about events within the game.

Telling you about how he works from home and codes for a living as well as streaming in his free time. You even check him out, subscribe to his channel, he has a decent following for someone that doesn’t do it so seriously. He was exactly who he said he was, pictures matching the video he sometimes displays while doing ‘let’s plays’ with a few friends who stream a bit more legitimately and have a larger following.

The most notable names being Dynamight and ChargeBolt, prominent YouTubers and Twitch streamers with a subscriber count well into the millions for each of them individually.

Which makes talking to him a little daunting despite how down to earth he was. Simultaneous nervous and giddy energy flooding your system the times you do discuss getting a chance to meet up to complete a few research tasks in the game.

Somewhat noncommittal with the time, tasks that could be done at any point that would take a few days to accomplish anyway. Discussing the ways you both play the game in the mean, Tenko likes to collect strong pokemon albeit the unconventional type. Atypical to the ones most people see in local gyms like Dragonite or Gyarados, though he does have those.

But somehow he had the strongest little sandslash you’d ever seen, especially for only being a level 34. Typically doing trainer battles with it, a Milotic and a Sylveon and mostly emerging victorious.

While you typically liked to collect shinies, possessing a decent amount more than he had. Over a hundred, several being each stage of a Pokémon’s evolution as well as multiple shinies.

You: I’ll trade you one when we see each other, you can have the high cp one, I have two that are pretty close in level.

Promising a few trades so he could complete a few tasks that required taking a snapshot of a legendary that didn’t appear in raids anymore.

And it isn’t until one of the days you decide to head into the city for some of the raids, an impromptu announcement in the form of a dropdown bar earning your attention.

Rescue Mewtwo from Team GO rocket in shadow raids during Raid hour. Starting now! 💥

Groaning about taking a trip sooner than expected but you weren’t lucky enough to get a shiny mewtwo the last time he was in raids and you won’t miss it now.

Item bag packed full of premium raid passes so you can battle until you earn your prize. Glad many others covet the same one so the battle parties were full and participating in the raids wasn’t a headache.

Joining in one after the other as you walk from street to street, gyms lining the prefecture all with countdowns to the next battle and ones until they ended. Each party so full that the game would automatically divide the amounts so everyone had a chance.

You sit and wait on a bench away from the small clusters of other people, not too keen on speaking with so many people when you just wanted one thing before heading home.

Waiting and watching the timer tick down before the raid starts when a dropdown notification from Discord appears.

DecayDaddy: Are you using a remote raid pass for Mewtwo?

Glancing between the text and the timer before tabbing out to his chat.

You: No, havin to venture out into the great unknown all alone like a heathen because I have no friends to invite me 😔

Smiling at the silly tone you imbue into the text, that you hope he can hear because he’s heard your voice in a handful of short calls or voice memos. The soft expression you wear gradually spreads into a full blown grin when he texts back a short ‘look up’.

You’re quick to comply, squinting from the sun but you’d recognize those starlit locks anywhere even with the dark hood pulled over the stylishly unstyled mop.

Giving him a tentative wave but not moving from your spot as Tenko cuts through the little crowd around him and crosses the small courtyard to join you.

“Better hurry, time's almost up,” calling in a half yell the closer he gets and it’s criminal how the upward quirk of the corner of his lips makes the beat of your heart hasten. Near skip in its steady rhythm when he widens the length of his stride instead of breaking into a half jog, closing the distance between you with ease with just a few seconds to spare.

Standing directly in front of you and seemingly intentionally obscuring the glaring sun with his figure, giving himself a halo of light. The thought makes you feel silly, clearing your throat after you swallow because there’s no reason a near perfect stranger should enrapture you with such ease.

“It started,” his voice breaks the slight reverent stupor you’d fallen into, blinking up at him in confusion before scrambling for your phone with a curse. Nape of your neck feeling warm and with Tenko inadvertently providing shade you can’t blame it on the warmth of the sun's rays.

You’re just thankful he doesn’t make any comment on it, standing up as your Pokémon spawn in to battle the boss. Quick to defeat it with the oversized raiding group, giggling with a cute little cheer when the stats appear at the end and it tells you that you’d been the one to deal the final strike.

Missing how Tenko’s cool rubies rake up and down your form while finding your actions cute before paying attention to his own screen.

Eyes widening when he sees the flare of sparkles when his prize appears on screen to be caught, a little stunned because he’d never been very fortunate in catching any shinies. Tossing his ball and only tilting to look at your screen when you groan in disappointment.

“I’m gonna have to find another one to battle, it wasn’t shiny. It was strong though! Almost thirty five hundred cp!”

His brows raise, cocking his hip bit as he shifts his weight from one foot to another. Quiet for a moment as you take a moment to spin the gym, stopping you before you can pocket your phone.

“I can go with you if you want, do a few until you catch one,” offered so simply and calmly you almost declined. The beginning’s of a polite ‘you don’t have to do that’ on your tongue when he continues, “or we could just get something to eat together instead, like I offered before. Mine was shiny so I could give it to you.”

Again you think to refuse, tell him you could earn your own like he’d gotten his but as he stares at you realization starts to set in. A warmth creeping into your chest and up your throat at the notion and how maybe you’d been a bit oblivious.

“Wait, are you asking me on a date?”

“For the second time now,” he sounds so blasé about it, like he’s talking about the weather when he turns on his heel. Ready to head down the street to one of the many restaurants lining the block. Craning his neck without turning around when Tenko sees you aren’t following, “are you coming?”

“Depends,” you start cutely, rolling your lip between your teeth to fight the cheeky smile as you take a few steps forward. Pulling out your phone to shake it at him, leaning forward to tilt into his view, “are you really gonna give me your shiny?”

He chuckles at that, a breathy sound that floats on his exhale as he resumes his stride when you fall into step, “only if you trade me the strong one you got.”

#vixen drabbles #tomura shigaraki x you #tomura shigaraki x reader #tenko shimura x reader #tenko x reader #tomura x reader

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prismaticpichu · 20 days

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(Zack, having a good time chilling in Angeal’s apartment om his Gameboy Advanced)

(Until suddenly—)

Zack: AhhhhhhhhhhhhHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!

(The ear-piercing shriek explodes through the living space, jolting Genesis out of his seat and causing him to drop his copy of Loveless pero en espanol on the spot. His head shoots up, gaze shooting towards the couch where Zackary is sitting/the source of the sonic boom.)

(And his eyes widen in concern.)

(Angeal is gone, he realizes. So is Sephiroth. There’s no one to help Zack out right now, to address whatever crisis has plagued him. And that’s when another realization strikes:)

(…It’s all up to him.)

(He has to be the hero.)

(Perhaps he can redeem himself, at last. Perhaps this is his chance to apologize to Zack, to make up for all the times he had called him names or treated him poorly or grew jealous of him and Sephiroth’s blossoming friendship.)

(So, his mind made, only seconds having passed, Genesis races over to the couch.)

Genesis: I’m coming!

(He stops in front of the wide-eyed, blanched Zack, evaluating the sight. And he immediately he spots the problem.)

(There, on Zack’s copy of Pokémon Emerald, his partner creature fish thing bears a sickly shade of purple instead of the natural blue Genesis remembered from the TV show.)

(His eyes widen in distress, as well as a sudden jolt of understanding crashing over him.)

(Goddess… poor Zackary must think his game is possessed! Glitched! Hmphhhhh. He told Angeal he should’ve bought the lad a more modern video game.)

(And Gaia, Zackary’s breathing is out of control—)

Genesis: Don’t worry, whelp! I know what to do!”

Zack: What are you—?!

(And before Zack can even react, Genesis swipes the console from his hands, and restets the system.)

Zack: …

Zack: ….

Genesis (handing back the system as it reboots): “It’s okay, no need to thank me. Angeal has had his fair share of technical difficulties in the past. Nothing to be ashamed or.

Zack: …

Genesis: …What’s wrong? Why are you looking at me like that?

Zack: … ._.

Zack: That was a shiny Mudkip.

Genesis: A what now?

(Zack’s voice is wooden)

Zack: …A shiny Mudkip. Or should I say, 1/8192 chance shiny Mudkip. And I got one on my first shot.

Genesis: …Oh. I see.

…

Genesis: Well. At least your little game is not glitched anymore.

Zack: … ._.

Genesis: Is it getting hot in here—?

Zack: I’M GONNA KILL YOU.

(Angeal walks into the apartment minutes later to find Zack jumping up and down on a helpless Genesis’s back. He can’t even intervene before Sephiroth walks in behind him.)

Sephiroth: Zack! Stop that right now!

(Zack immediately freezes at his friend’s voice, the fire still in his eyes but a look of shame crossing his face as Sephiroth scowls.)

Angeal: …Thank you, Sephiroth. Now, Zack. In a civilized manner—

Zack: HE RESET MY SHINY MUDKIP.

Angeal: Okay. I don’t know what that means, but is this really a cause for—

Sephiroth: He did WHAT?!

(And that’s how poor Genesis Rhapsodos finds himself being body slammed by a 200-pound-plus Sephiroth.)

#ffvii #zack fair #ff7 #crisis core #genesis rhapsodos #angeal hewley #sephiroth #pokemon #shiny pokemon #randomness #mudkip!#stupidity

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gehtsis · 2 months

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In Which Ark Has A Memory

a funny little thing I wrote for @sincerely-sofie 's TPiaG au based off an idea I had that can only be described as "hey what if ark tried REALLY REALLY hard to remember who he was before twig found him". the fic starts out slow and my writing is a bit iffy since this is one of my first attempts at writing, so i hope you'll enjoy it as much as I do.

The silence and the darkness of the night were always familiar to Ark. Not because he had trouble sleeping because of them, but because he was simply unable to sleep at all. It puzzled him at first, but he got used to it. But what differentiated between this night and the many others is that he could not stop thinking. Ever since he arrived here, ever since the charmeleon took him in, he felt as though something was amiss. A piece of his mind - his memory, so close to him, yet somehow out of reach. And the behavior of the charmeleon herself and how she acts around him especially with hiw she described him felt.. suspicious. At first, being this 'hero' that supposedly helped people all around was nice to believe in - but Ark could only point out at how.. uneasy Twig felt around him. How she was constantly twitchy around him. How she looked nervous whenever he was around with her outside - granted, the trips to the market made her more at ease with him by her side, but that's not to say that she acted very oddly. And after the not-so-recent and eventful outcome with Twig's friends - the Dusknoir and the Grovyle - Ark was starting to doubt her tale. She was lying about his origins. Who he was. What could she gain from such an act, he couldn't figure out for the life of him. While confronting Twig about it would be the most optimal choice, Ark felt as though immediately jumping the gun was too risky. Far too risky. But he just had to figure it out, he was just so close to finding the last piece to this complicated jigsaw puzzle. Ark laid on his bed and concentrated. If he could try and think hard enough, he might just be able to remember. With a few quick breaths and focfed concentration, Ark came across a memory. He was in this.. weird, volcanic area looking at himself in third person, with 3 Pokemon in front of him. A Charmander, a Mudkip, and this one that he can't exactly remember. It's head was in the shape of a crescent moon, hands clasped with all sort of pink ring-like things coming out of her body. All of the three pokemon had an angry expression on their faces, almost as Ark did something so horrendous to justify such an expression. A few seconds later, the other Ark began speaking. But the way he spoke.. did not match the way Twig described him as.

"My wish is... to engulf this world in darkness."

"I set my sights on Dialga's Temporal Tower because of its tie to time..."

"I sabotaged Temporal Tower."

"That would have eventually led to the destruction of time. And ultimately, the planet's paralysis."

Ark was simply horrified. To inflict something as horrid as this on everyone and on the planet itself disgusted him. This couldn't be him, it simply couldn't. Nobody could be this selfish, this cold and apathetic, this.. this can't be denied no more. Ark slowly dropped his hands down from his ears, and watched as the scene unfolded. He simply watched and listened as this past version of himself explained all the wrath and chaos it planned to unleash on the world, with the addition of allowing the charmander and the mudkip to join his side due to their power and whatnot. Needless to say, they refused. After a hard battle between Ark's past self and the 3 Pokemon, it resulted in his defeat. But Ark knew himself better at this point, as he saw how his past self had a plan to simply plunge the world into darkness in another time by using one of those 'dimensional holes' that would send him to another time for him for him to wreck havoc in. The plan was good, he admits it, but his expression changes into one of shock and fear as a fourth, larger and mightier Pokemon appears, claiming to make Ark's past self pay for his expansion of the space distortion, as it fires off an energy ball of some sorts at the dimensional hole just as Ark fled inside it.

And from there, the memory ended. Ark slowly got up, unable to process anything that he just saw. It felt unreal. There was no way that could be him, he couldn't believe it. Ark could only stare into the darkness in his room, and feel a pair of blue eyes staring back.

#good god my hands hurt. anywhos have this funny little thing because i thought it was cool.

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asterouslyaesthetic · 9 months

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do you think the gym leaders+steven all text norman to let him know how his kid is doing

because norman is the only one with a kid among the gym leaders. wattson's got a niece but she lives outside of hoenn and drake from the elite four has grandkids but like he's not a gym leader

and it's just a way to bond with norman since he clearly loves his family and the only time he gets soft is thinking of them

like roxanne gets beaten by a lvl15 mudkip and nothing else, and when she asks why, the kid is like, "actually, i want to be a water type only trainer so that i can also be a gym leader"

she lets wallace know in the group chat that he has competition

steven casually drops the fact that his kid beat up a few team magma grunts and his dad is apparently very fond of norman's kid now to one of the others and it spreads like wildfire

brawly says that his kid's been camping out for like the past three days, trying to fish for a tentacool, and then they show up to battle with like 20 potions and their tentacool as their ace

wallace pipes in briefly to tell norman that he and his wife should turn on a specific channel and watch it together.

afterwards, norman jokes that his kid really is gunning for wallace's spot and thanks him for letting him see their kid branching out. wallace starts commenting more on them because lisia tells him a lot and he's kind of happy his niece has a good friend she can hang out with

wattson happily tells him about he caught them giving pointers to wally and how they gave their marshtomp bulldoze specifically for this match and won by the skin of their teeth

and also how they nearly got into a fight with the guy who gives advice because he was like "you can't fight with water types in an electric gym!"

flannery is oddly quiet when they come to town and that is because they end up befriending each other because they WANT to be a gym leader but they know they have to live up to their dad while flannery's already trying to live up to the sort of reputation one should have

all she says is "it's a secret"

norman shares a picture of him, his wife, and their kid at a restaurant he found specifically because they like that sort of food. in it, tentacool has evolved and they now corphish and surskit and a togepi

the togepi belongs to his wife now but he mentions that it makes for a great excuse for his kid to come home more often

steven says something about how they're very passionate and when prompted to speak more about the topic, he says they nearly fought with kecleon because it was preventing them from going into the gym

winona is grateful that they asked the kecleon to go away. she's the one who has the least amount of conversation with them but she does note them trying to convince gyarados to fly, then begrudgingly resigning themselves to being a land and water dweller

(steven has to laugh at that when wallace tells him.

he never says why but when he comes back from his travels, he has a swanna for them)

the twins hear about the kid being in town but the first time they meet is at the department store while they're arguing with a kid about the last slakoth plush. they pull the "my dad is a gym leader" card and when that fails, they end up resorting to a pokemon battle

everyone floods the chat with questions after the team magma/team aqua incident. norman shuts down the gym for a bit to be there for his kid and also do gym leader stuff and the only time the kid shows up on tv is a few days later when they're trying to get to the gym and a reporter stops them

they very confidently say they can be champion, but only if they can make it past through the reporter because they need their eighth badge

norman is SO proud

for wallace, he mentions how the first thing they say after beating him is asking him where he got his milotic from. they're actually extremely mad that they couldn't find any feebas and they didn't actually want to battle him without one but they also just want to head onto victory road

this actually jogs a memory of norman's, where he remembers that he took the family to petalburg before he moved to show them littleroot and just spend time with them while they're still in johto

and on one of the screens is wallace and milotic, and after that, the three of them decide to take some time to watch one of his contests on tv, which spurs a family tradition and the declaration that they will also have a milotic

he promised to get a feebas for them, but they turned him down so he kinda regrets not pushing it a bit more

so he like talks to his kid and they basically confirm his suspicions

milotic = happy memories so my own milotic = more happy memories and since i want to be a gym leader like my old man = water types only

it's all very wholesome

norman can't stay away from petalburg much longer and his kid doesn't want him to watch the matches because they're afraid of an ungraceful showing, but they do promise to send a photo with steven after the match and verbal confirmation from the latter that they won

also norman's kid just looks up to their dad so much, like the coolest person ever, and once they become champion, they go to him for advice on pokemon—it's a running joke in the family that it should be the other way around since they're the youngest champion in hoenn

as for the feebas, someone from the weather institute finds out that they want one so they call norman to tell his kid this secret for a guaranteed feebas

the next beauty master rank has people making the spiderman meme because wallace also enters with a milotic. he wins the battle, but they win the day because their parents come to watch them and they spend the entire day together

#pokemon #pokemon oras #trainer may #trainer brendan #gym leader norman #gym leader wallace #hoenn gym leaders #champion steven #i just want good dad!norman stuff #like how pokemas or the anime portrays him #instead of like pokespe #i just want secretly doting dad norman who's so damn proud of his kid for becoming the champion #he'll never brag about it to anyone but his wife who is equal parts bemused and tired #but you can bet he has like newspaper clippings and photos of them in his office #he's usually good about not launching into technical discussions but sometimes he does #and since his kid is dating the professor's kid they can actually keep up with it

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gaelfox · 6 months

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The Pokemon thumbnail you did for Ray recently is great. I really love the Mudkip

Hey thank you so much! I really enjoy working in the Pokemon style - and Ephemerald had some really good sprite combinations!

You can find the start of the playthrough here!

#my art #Pokémon #YouTube thumbnail #ray narvaez jr

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pocketramblr · 7 months

Note

I'm thinking about writing a birthday gift for Manual in December. Do you have any Dad for Manual ideas? Thank you, my birthday series muse!

It was really fun to make Manual and Kota poor unfortunate dfobros, but of course there are other fun variations on what happens when you hit Manual with the dfostick:

The "normal" hero a front he puts up while in hiding from his father, using a weak quirk and generally hiding what he looks like from mudkip helmet to bright boots, no one's looking at his actual face or remembering his name, and no villains dangerous enough to have connections to his father bother with him. One would have to figure out how he escaped to begin with, but if he's got other quirks he's hiding, or he used some more powerful water bending type stuff, it's very possible.

Or, the normalcy could be a tool to keep his father from being interested in him at all- he wants to play demon lord after all, and if Manual is too boring to play either the evil heir or the defiant relative to prove wrong, then he isn't interesting enough to even vault. (Similar to the Ibara strategy of "just don't give AfO anything to work with", it can be tricky for most characters to pull this off. But it is funny to think about AfO trying to figure out if it's a problem his son is a hero when just... "*AfO sigh* he's a mid hero. Barely one. There'd be no fun dragging him back to the dark side. I think he puts more effort into his garden than he does uh anything heroes do. What do heroes do again? Fight? Provide narrative foils? Try to be on every single cereal box in the country? Yeah he didn't even have a sponsor.")

Or, perhaps it's even rebellion- maybe his son was supposed to be a hero mole, and given a quirk to get him to do that, but Manual doesn't want to and so simply does a bad job at it. He didn't go to a hero school prestigious enough to get much info from. He works alone at his agency and can't even draw in good quirks because no one accepts his internship offers. He barely uses a quirk that should be able to control something found in literally every single person, on a planet mostly covered in the stuff. He's like the opposite of Dabi, but luckily AfO never realizes how it doesn't exactly line up that his son somehow has connections getting him invited to the same parties and investigations as top ten heroes, how he can pick out threats so quickly and efficiently, while somehow never having enough cases logged to get a higher rank, or slip AfO any useful info... [Is AfO annoyed by his son's lacking usefulness, but lets it happen because it makes him smug to think it's proof that his family is all horrible at heroics, somehow proving him right over his brother? Does he not care as long as his son seems obedient? Or does he just think his son is so young, still only in his twenties, his beloved relative is doing great and he won't hear any slander? Could be anything lol depends on how funny you want AfO to be]

All of these involve a ruse, but that's par for the course for dfo victims lol.

#holding myself back from suggesting tensaki. because whether or not Manual is smitten with Tensei has nothing to do with dfo or not lol #but yeah lots of fun options!#pocket talks to people #aimportantdragoncollector

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broflovski-brah · 3 months

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Pokémon starters for the main 4?

Cartman: Tepig. Yall forgot his pet pig Fluffy :( Anyway, Cartman would also probably want a fire starter type because he thinks the others are “lame”, especially considering his choices being Snivy or Oshawott. The Unova starters are based on war and combat I think? And I feel like Cartman would want the most badass of them. Plus I can see that being the Pokémon equivalent of his pet pig Fluffy from the earlier seasons.

Stan: This one was honestly hard but I’m gonna have to go with Grookey. Originally I had thought Mudkip because I thought it would be funny if he had a Marshtomp, then I thought about Piplup but I think that Grookey does him the best. Grookey is based on music. I also think that Grookey has the best temperament and matches up with Stan and his usual position of trying to manage and handle everyone. (mainly his dad). Plus Grookey is based off of music, so that checks out.

Kyle: (Kinda boring making him and Stan from the same region I know) but Scrobunny. I really can’t see Kyle with any other type besides fire. I originally did have him with a Treecko because I can kinda see him with a Sceptile but thinking about it now I don’t think his personality would line up. Scrobunny is also loosely based on sports, and Kyle seems to be pretty sporty (I think he’s actually done the most sports out of his friend group?) and he’s based on a rugby player as well. (If Kyle were British I can see him being really good at rugby honestly but anyway) Scrobunny also lines up with him and his personality, getting fired up when they’re both excited or angry, or even the both of them being very competitive. Also Kyle with Cinderace anyone??

Kenny: He was honestly the toughest. But honestl? I can see him befriending a Pokémon while hanging out on the streets one night. I can see him being from the Kanto region? So I can kinda see him befriending a stray Pokémon. Let’s say…Ghastly. Maybe it starts out as an occasional spotting, but eventually he feels bad for the Ghastly and starts bringing it food every day. He finds that the Ghastly actually has a pretty good temperament and eventually brings it home. He trains the Ghastly to keep the Rattata and Koffing away from his house as well. He thinks that maybe it’s the fact that he’s always dying that attracted the two to each other but that’s how he ended up with his starter.

#south park #eric cartman #stan marsh #kyle broflovski #kenny mccormick #pokemon #ghastly #grookey #scrobunny #tepig #ill upload one for butters and craig’s gang (+ the girls) later #i didn’t have time to do it before classes lol

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mythgirlimagines · 1 month

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Which Project Sekai group do you think would sing each PokéMiku song?

VERY good question that made me actually sit down and listen to all of the Project Voltage songs lmao

This got long so everything past the first two are under the cut!

TL;DR: 4 L/N, 4 MMJ, 4 VBS, 4 WxS, 3 n25

Volt Tackle- I think for just Volt Tackle itself, L/N could rock it since parts of it remind me of songs like Teo or Hibana -Reloaded-. However, for the Jewel Remix, VBS would be the ones to cover it and you cannot change my mind on that. It’d be really cool if in-story this was one of L/N’s songs and VBS decided to remix and cover it

Electricity Forecast- The Viridian Forest theme (one of my favorite themes in all the games and not only because of Yellow) seals to me that this would be an n25 song. I really have no defense for it other than that but honestly tell me it doesn’t fit. Like I could see an argument for VBS but I think n25 would slay this

What Kind of Future- I could see MMJ doing some kind of collaboration with Pokemon and covering this song, like them kind of incorporating the “attacks” in their choreography or something like that. The beat also reminds me of some of their songs, like Newly Edgy Idols. I can definitely see this on an idol stage. I also think at least Minori would be amused by all of the puns XD

The Pokemon Inside My Heart- This one for sure gives WxS, especially on the gaming side of things. You know if this were a song in-universe Nene would cover it even on her own. It honestly reminds me of some of their more chill songs as a group, and honestly feels kind of reminiscent of Starry Sky Melody for some reason?? That might just be me

Battle! (Hatsune Miku)- VBS hands-down, are you kidding? I don’t even think I have to justify my choice here

Fly With You- It’s telling the story of Mudkip and Pelipper, so I think WxS would cover this just on the storytelling ground, y’know? I could see it being a show on Wonder Stage

I GOT YOU!- VBS, and again I don’t really think I have to justify this choice lol, I also think this is one of my favorites so far

JUVENILE- L/N both based on the overall sound and the themes in the lyrics! Very fitting imo. Tell me I’m wrong I dare you

I’m a Ghost Type- I was originally going to say VBS, but I honestly think that n25 could handle this song slightly better? I’m still kind of torn between them but I’m going to say final answer n25 because they do deserve some hard-hitting beats like this, plus n25 has done several syudou songs before that went well

GO! Team BIDOOF- I’m kind of caught between MMJ and WxS for this one, but I think I’m leaning towards WxS just because it’s giving Niccori and I love Niccori lol (edit a second after I wrote this: they’re produced by the same producer so that’s probably why I kept drawing parallels between the two lmaooooo)

Awoo- n25 is probably gonna end up getting all the spooky-themed songs tbh but I really do think they’d do well with this one lol

Encounter- I’m split between MMJ and L/N but this also reminds me of Torinoko City so I think I’m going to give it to MMJ. Both groups fit the lyrics “‘You’re stronger than you were back then”/Even though I’ve grown up/Nothing seems to have changed, does it?” but MMJ gets the edge in terms of the sound of the song imo since it also lowkey gives Watashi wa, Watashitachi wa

Eon Ticket- I gotta go with L/N for this one, I mean just listen to it (I am maybe a little biased that marasy also produced Aoku Kakero! which is one of my favorite L/N covers)

PARTY ROCK ETERNITY- Another where I’m between VBS and n25!! Ahhhhh I think for this one I’m going to go with VBS on this one. This is another one of my favorite Project Voltage songs now lol

Journey’s Prequels, Journey’s Traces- WxS for this one, it just Gives Them

Psychic Psychic- I want to say MMJ for this one and I have no idea why. I think it kind of reminds me of Melty Land Nightmare vibes?

MELLOMELLOID- This one, oddly enough, had me split between MMJ and n25, but I think this reminds me too much of Darling Dance to not give it to MMJ

Glorious Day- I would love hearing L/N do this one, so I'm gonna have to give it to them!

#answered ask #headcanons #pokemon #project sekai #pjsk

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s0upjuice · 9 days

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Your Hero & Partner designs are so lovely! I won't get too deep into specifics, but my favorites have to be the Turtwig, Mudkip, and Riolu. Their designs are just so dynamic and stunning to look at. I especially love the Mudkip's accent colors, the pink just looks really good on the white & blue.

im really glad you enjoyed them! They were very fun to design so I'm glad others got something out of them too haha

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lighthouseas · 3 months

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okay i need to nerd out for a sec. pokemon au. here's what starter pokemon the party have + im right because i was severely hyperfixated on pokemon for many many years. i'm also only including the regional starter pokemon here and not pikachu and eevee just to make things easier for me

mike has an oshawott. why? because he looks like an oshawott and pokemon look like their trainers. his oshawott is incredibly stubborn and unwilling to listen to mike at first, but they eventually do bond and become hashtag besties for the resties!!!!!! he eventually evolves into a samurott because Sword. oshawott's nature is bold and his characteristic is a little quick tempered.

lucas has a snivy (him and mike are both from unova in this ok) because he thought snivy looked cool and decided that he needed to have one. lucas and snivy get along very well - much better than mike and oshawott did at first. they're very good buddies and she eventually evolves into a serperior and is a very powerful, well-rounded pokemon. lucas adores her. her nature is adamant and her characteristic is good perseverance.

max my best friend max has a scorbunny of COURSE. he's super athletic and very good at battling but those things often go to his head and he can be a bit of a little shit sometimes, so max has to keep him in check. he's very sweet though and just kinda stays the way he is and never evolves. which max is cool with because she likes scorbunny the way he is too!! his nature is sassy and his characteristic is thoroughly cunning.

will has a mudkip. because well. he looks like a mudkip and also mudkip are very Alert to things much like he is. mudkip is very shy and she doesn't really like interacting with anyone except will, which he's fine with, but he does try and get her to put herself out there she gets along great with mike's oshawott btw when she feels up to it. eventually she evolves into a marshtomp and while she's not a very strong battler, she's loyal to a fault, which will loves. her nature is timid and her characteristic is alert to sounds.

dustin has a turtwig (because of yertle). turtwig never evolves, but that doesn't actually matter because he is a fucking TANK. like, people will see him and not really expect much because he's just a Little Guy but oh man can dustin's turtwig pack a punch. he's incredibly loyal and resilient and smart and dustin loves his turtwig. so much. they're best friends. turtwig's nature is hardy and his characteristic is highly curious.

el has a fennekin. fennekin is just the sweetest little thing. just a little tiny girl fr. the cutest. el brags about having chosen the best starter Constantly. the two are best friends like actually having sleepovers and gossiping and the whole shebang. she eventually evolves into a delphox (hahaha psychic type) and is ridiculously powerful. like, near unbeatable, but she still maintains her very sweet demeanor. her nature is gentle and her characteristic is likes to relax.

#ayyy my 2 hyperfixations in ONE POST isnt that crazy #anyway i thiiink it was acswy that originally related mike to oshawott ? or something like that ? anyway. they were sooo correct for that.#mike was an oshawott in another life i think.#oh btw. mike and lucas are travelling companions. if you even Care.#also dont mind the region inconsistencies i was mainly going off of like. vibes for this one ? as to which starters fit them .#maybe i will make a post detailing their full teams. who knows. who knowssss #<- OO and maybe also their Careers. like. dustin is 100% a pokemon researcher.#ok anyway nerding out over sorryyy #stranger things #pokemon #bee.txt

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blastburned · 1 month

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monsoon season.

art by @ cuteskitty

vs @earth-master

The rainy season this year combined with a weather system that caused Hoenn to drown.

At some point in recent history, there was a group that wanted to do the same, but the weather wasn’t the will of some primeval pokémon this time.

It rained in his second year in Hoenn and flooded almost every route between towns that existed. Leaf and him had agreed to stick near Fortree City for the time being out of curiosity and necessity. Red’s twenty, and he’s pretty sure love is when your best friend (and sometimes fling) leaves you instructions on how not to kill her plant while she’s canopy racing through the trees without you to catch something. He doesn’t remember what it is. She isn’t going to be back for a month or so.

The plant was the only plant they had in their rickety spot in Fortree. He’d gotten the Secret Base Guild to lend them a place to stay during the flood for some work done. And he hated to think about it, but he thinks she killed it before she left. He’s about to take the blame for it.

Unless he gets another plant for her before she comes back.

That’s what pushed him into the downpour on the stupid quest for Leaf’s plant, and make no mistake, it’s completely stupid. It’s stupid because Hoenn shows no mercy when it comes to her weather. Why should she?

To call it pouring was a massive understatement. Fortree’s bridges hung five feet in the air above rivers of water that were steaming with heat. Fish were swimming in the former streets. The Pokemon Center on the ground was completely flooded.

Red traded food and water with a fishing family for a raft and an oar. He pulled a rain poncho and a wide conical hat on his head, and shoved his shoes in his bag to keep them dry. The only other thing besides his bag he brings is a ceramic pot and shovel for Leaf’s dear plant. Pikachu sat happily on the hat while thunder rumbled overhead. The air’s so thick with humidity that breathing it wasn’t any relief from the heat.

Route 120 was transformed into a maze of rapids and waterfalls, all hazy with mist and the constant rain.

On a whim, he took a picture at the border of it with his old PokeGear. He sent it to Green, who is probably sleeping to rest for some class in the morning. There’s no caption. ‘Wish you were here’ is… too much.

He put the gear away and shoved off though, the oar cutting through once-road now riverbed.

—

The treetop city that frolics with nature.

That was how Fortree presented itself, and now actually having visited the city, there was no question about the veracity of the claim. The city was built into the forest canopy, with living trees, only a handful of buildings were on ground level (and thus, only a few buildings were flooded).

Many talked of centennial floods come earlier than expected, some recall the meddling of some team or another, but all that could really be gleaned was what was happening. Route 120 had flooded.

It’s a good opportunity for research, drawing out the usually rare Mudkips from their slumber in the river beds, or allowing Giovanni to see just how extreme weather effects altered how pokemon battled, and more importantly- keeping most people out of his business.

It’s the one good thing about the extreme weather. He’s not fond of people sticking noses where they don’t belong, and in recent years, he’s gotten used to (and frankly) preferred solitude as a default, only reaching out to others on his own terms.

No one seemed to recognize him here. It’s been a small blessing and a reprieve from having to run. A little disappointing, however, was discovering the one associate he’d looked forward to running into had established himself in Galar of all places, but that could be an adventure for another day.

He also supposed that no one recognizes him here because without his signature suit and Rocket insignia that had been circulating in papers for years... he didn’t look much different from most others.

Dress for the weather.

And the weather was humid and miserable.

An athletic undershirt sat under an unbuttoned Alolan fern printed shirt, with sweatbands on his wrists, shorts with several pockets, wool socks, and hiking shoes was his ensemble today, kneeling down in the mud to observe the habits of the Mudkip swimming up to the surface.

He flipped over a laminated page in a multi-ringed notebook, holding marker to the surface:

‘Their most sensitive extrasensory organ is on the top of their head. It is not yet at the stage it develops its secondary typing.’

Though the groundwork (hah) was there. It would develop its secondary typing through evolution. Mudkip to Marshtomp- something in its evolutionary past necessitated that this line develop the skills needed to live amphibiously... that must be the reason why two seemingly contradictory typings co-inhabited the creatures-

A flash distracted him from his thoughts and then-

BOOM.

A peal of thunder close by, too close by, shook him from his research.

Damn.

Heavy rains pulled in from out of nowhere, drenching Giovanni and his work almost immediately. He’s glad he had the foresight to bring something laminated for his field research, but irritated by the suddenness of the rain. If he had a little bit more forewarning, he would have left beforehand.

The Mudkip disappeared from the surface of the water, burrowing back into the banks to seek their own shelter.

I should do the same.

The options are few... he’d rather not go higher up to get electrocuted, but staying as low as he was on a floodplain would be foolish. He’s strong, sure, and knows how to swim, but flash floods and rapids were nothing to mess around with. You would be lucky to be dashed on a rock. It’s quicker than drowning.

Sighing with the lack of options, he quickly retreated uphill, in spite of the hair on his arms standing up... was it fear, or atmospheric static? He couldn’t tell.

He walked a fair distance through the forest, seeing the trunks of trees and the tops of street signs peeking above the water. Then, there’s someone in a raft, paddling downstream with a Pikachu on their head.

He doesn’t like asking for help but he puts his hands to his face, and cups them around his lips.

“...Hey! Have room for another, stranger?”

The electricity in the air has Pikachu bouncing in excitement. Red counted the beats between the strikes, and the ozone pops and pressure differences are telling him that Pikachu’s been struck dozens of times since the swell began.

It’s a good thing too, because otherwise he’d be flat on his back with blisters and a prayer not to get struck by lightning again. Pikachu is so staticky that he’s sticking to the hat, cheering every time a bolt of lightning smacked into him and got absorbed.

The water below them was racing with a vengeance that his oar’s not entirely keeping up with. Their saving grace is the overgrown grass on 210 gave him an anchor to push off from. This rain’s going to end up killing someone at this rate if it hadn’t already.

They had gotten a good way down the route, signs with flood markers half buried under the rapids, when someone called out to him over the booming thunder. Red drove the oar into the grass and Pikachu and him turned to look at the same time. It’s a guy standing on a hill that’s not going to last. He’s not from around here at all by the look of it. That’s the person that’s gonna end up getting killed if he’s not careful.

Red dug his teeth into his bottom lip and whistled to Pikachu, and the mouse swung his tail in an arc, sending absurdly powerful bolts into the rushing water. It swelled, and pushed his next paddle stroke with a Surf back upstream, against the current. Red digs the corner of the raft into the embankment, and anchored the oar, reaching out towards the stranger and offering a hand. The rain slammed into the hat and forced him to look down.

Come on.

There’s always room for another person.

It’s tough holding it though, his arms were straining against the force of the rain.

No way…

It didn’t stop him from offering his hand, but the look he gave this man isn’t cursory. It’s slow and… tired.

And his trip got suddenly more complicated than getting Leaf a new plant, but he collects his passenger anyways, and shoves off with a quick whistle to Pikachu to steer the current in a way that wouldn’t shred his raft. The rapids were getting more intense.

Red settles into a rhythm of rowing among the din of rain.

“Pika, pika?”

Where are you headed?

Regardless of where, he was coming down the road first.

Art by @cuteskitty

Giovanni didn’t hesitate to grab on to the young man and hop in.

“Thanks-” Giovanni replied, balancing enough to sit down.

The pouring rain, peals of thunder and intense rapids, made him grab onto the side of the raft with a sense of urgency for stability. He knew he was entirely out of his element.

He was thankful for circumstances being good for a change. If not for this passerby, he’d have been forced to continue to higher ground and bring out Rhyperior for his own Lightning Rod ability, and they’d both be miserable out in this weather.

No telling how long this storm would last either, but he could tell already he’d been out in the rain long enough to start getting ill from it.

Great.

Taking off his sunglasses, he folded them up and placed them in his front facing pocket. He had no use for them right now, and they’re worse than useless with fog from heat and moisture clouding the already tinted vision. Giovanni’s forced to look down to keep water from getting in his eyes, and continued to do so while the ferryman and his Pikachu navigated the waters-

Surf... This Pikachu knows Surf? But…

Giovanni blinked with surprise, glancing up. It’s hard to tell in the rain, but that was definitely the same Pikachu he remembered from ages ago, and its trainer, the same dark, messy hair poking out, same downward turned lips…

No... Really?!

Possibilities erupted in Giovanni’s mind, searching for the odds of this meeting, searching for any chance of being able to skirt recognition…

But looking at Red- and he was certain this was Red- it seemed like he knew already.

No sense in pretending or hiding then.

“Thanks,” he repeated, “Heh... I didn’t expect to see you here. Truce?”

He signed the word for emphasis, painfully aware of the situation they’re in.

It’s like the old adage about the Skorupi and the Froakie…

On second thought, he’d rather not think about that. That story had seventeen different versions of endings depending on whatever moral someone was trying to impose on someone else, and right now, he was preferring the ending where both pokemon made it to the other side of the river.

Take no chances, don’t present yourself as a threat.

Truce.

Red nodded, slowly.

It had taken a long time to let go of the anger caused by this man, and it’s good that when he did recognize him, it didn’t come swelling back. It could have, but it didn’t. There’s some pride in that, and... sadness too. By ferrying this man he was doing a disservice to Marowak’s memory and throwing salt in those wounds. Giovanni wasn’t going to care about a single pokémon killed like that, though. He’d keep it to himself. That slippery slope of thinking about retaliation was the thing he stepped back from five years ago.

If he had been anybody else, things might not have panned out the way they did.

As it was, things were like this, Giovanni wasn’t dead, and Red was still Red, perpetually quiet, and not talking to him.

Red ferried them down the flooded route, the rain growing in ferocity and him just clicking his tongue twice to Pikachu to curb their path. The waters were moving with them. All he really had to do was turn them away. Rapids carried them for the most part down a choppy path, and he kept excellent balance, standing over Giovanni and looking pointedly ahead.

There were schools of fish breaching to eat at bugs that got pinned in the downpour, and Red brushed one off the raft back into the water with a kick of his heel.

It’d been... Five years. Five really long years.

He’d heard he was missing, but supposedly dead, when he was dragged back to the ground two years ago. Giovanni didn’t look more shocked than usual, though.

Probably didn’t think it was true that I lived.

Red dragged the oar into a tree, turning them on a dime and had Pikachu carve a path down south for them. Pikachu, much like Red, kept his thoughts to himself in the heat of a moment that needed focus.

Red sank the side of the raft into the next clay bank he found, leaping off of it with a splash and tying its docking rope around the thick trunk of a tree. Pikachu hopped off the hat and onto the raft, bouncing it with the vicious current. It dragged the raft line taut and was trying to put his feet out from under him. Red set the oar down in Giovanni’s hands.

He held up, ‘1′, and collected the box and shovel he’d come with to forage a nearly identical plant out from the roots of this tree.

Red sank the spade into absolutely drenched earth, and took less than a minute to collect the tiny berry plant in its box.

He didn’t give warning either when he loosened the rope from the tree and ran beside it, leaping onto the raft with his prize and kicking up a splash.

He laughed about it while Pikachu cackled and scurried back onto his hat. Red snatched the oar back, and shoved off the bank, turning them on a curb.

Red agreed to the truce, nodding silently, using his hands to steer instead of sign, and Giovanni had to admit he’s starting to get more curious than cautious.

Giovanni heard that Red had disappeared, and was rumored to go to Mt. Silver for training, and had possibly died in the process.

He found it hard to believe, personally. Not that it mattered to him what Red was doing. He’d still upheld his promise to Red that he’d end Rocket, stop smuggling pokemon, and dedicate his life to study.

In a way.

Giovanni was still a criminal. Circumstances in Johto two years ago made it impossible for a civil return and he was still bitter about it.

So he wouldn’t be surprised if Red didn’t believe that he had kept his promise. He wouldn’t be surprised if Red didn’t believe he was truly done with Rocket, or that he had no interest in the smuggling business. Or that he had been studying, even if some of his research material had been ‘repatriated’ from other villainous teams and corporations. He wouldn’t be surprised if the boy didn’t trust him on that end.

And thus... no point to bring it up.

Red hands him the oar, and Giovanni takes it without question, at least initially.

Why...?

He furrowed his brow and tilted his head, watching Red scurry on shore, signing ‘1′. One minute.

Red dug up a berry bush, put it in a box, untied the rope, and then leapt back on to the raft to push it off the shore, grabbing the oar back from Giovanni.

The leap startled him, mostly because he’s not expecting... or quite understanding what Red was even doing out here. Transplanting something?

Giovanni’s still curious. Red had proven to be quite capable, and interesting. He couldn’t help but wonder what he was up to.

He settled down, clearing his throat.

“... What have you been doing? Trying your hand at gardening?”

Red had signed less than one hundred words to Giovanni in their entire conflict. Conversation was absolutely minimal from his end to the point, he found out later, that Giovanni thought he was deaf. It wasn’t the case. He just despised him.

Time doesn’t exactly heal every wound. Not really. He still doesn't feel comfortable.

He’s just one of a handful of disappointing adults in the world, and disappointments came a lot easier with time. Gold kicked Rocket out and once again, adults left the kids to clean up the failures of their forefathers. He didn’t think Giovanni was involved in any breath of that operation other than the inspiration behind it all.

Red gave a look at the little berry plant under his poncho and shook his head ‘no’. He could say a lot about actual gardening, but this is just Leaf’s ditto replacement while she rode Tropius in the trees. He’s pretty sure Rocket ruined her life. He’s pretty sure this man ruined her life inadvertently.

Still, if the mountain taught him anything, it’s that there weren’t any invaluable lives. So, this one could stay on the boat despite the absolutely looming consequences of his actions that were still being felt. He’d done his part in whatever was to come. He’ll probably do more before his candle’s snuffed out.

Red blew wet bangs off his cheek and pulled them down the river, Pikachu chirruping with excitement. He’s having a great time, despite anything else.

He lifted the oar at a calm spot to point at the drowned Lillycove sign in question, then strained back into the water, whistling with more volume to Pikachu to pick up their current.

Pikachu flicked his tail with a grin, and Red turned his foot under the notch on the raft to keep balance while their speed picked up and he tried to compensate for the extra passenger.

‘Carvanha all over the place,’ he signed, impersonal and formal, ‘Leave it faster than I came. Eat through rafts.’

The coldness of the formal signing does not escape Giovanni. It seems that nothing has changed between them then, even with the time passing.

In a way, it is comforting.

It takes out all of the guesswork in interacting with Red.

He simply nodded, and tried to center himself on the raft, to keep from slowing down the raft even more. If he had an oar, he would help... but he also feels like if he had anything vaguely resembling a weapon in his hands, he’d be thrown off, and he’s not eager for testing strengths against a Red that was much bigger and stronger now- and floating over rapids.

He just had to sit here.

Frustrating.

Giovanni sighs, and follows Red’s gesture to a sign just barely above water.

Lillycove.

“...Yes, I’m going to Lillycove.”

Pikachu just about danced with glee at the rain and static in the air. Surf propelled them forward. He’s in his element. It’d be cute in different circumstances.

“I’m... hm,” he debated sharing his goals here, but decided that there’d be no harm in it.

“I’m studying the weather. Weather effects on different types. It’s been extreme enough here that the effects are more observable.”

It’s also terrifying, the sheer unpredictability of the changes in weather and the sheer force of it. It’s been a while since the attack on Hoenn from people that wanted to drown or burn the world, but the effects were still there.

“It’s... hah, it’s been an interesting adventure. That’s for certain.”

He takes out his laminate flip book in this small reprieve to take a few more notes on the patterns.

Red was going to Lillycove too. They’re going the same way. There’s an End of the World party in Lillycove thrown by an absolute madman and his coterie of contest entrants turned afterhours cove fighters. He’s wanted in the cove for a few matches he’s not missing for anything. Half the fun is diving. The other half was boxing and mailing the plant to himself via Wingull.

Giovanni says he’s here for the weather and Red nods.

‘Old Gods,’ he signed, coasting with expertise over water that could kill. He doesn’t know how anyone else felt, but he could feel them in the treacherous waters and the blistering heat. He felt them in the very air of this place, and absolutely pouring over Mt. Pyre, dripping in ghosts and ancient memories.

He felt the same in Mt. Silver.

‘Old Gods sleeping. Woke them a few years ago. So they say, anyway. Can’t feel it?’

He dipped the oar into the rapid again, Pikachu’s tail flicking to help him turn into the long strait towards Lillycove. Half the city’s smartly on the bluff, and the other half is waterproof for this very reason. The cove stretches for miles into shallows, other boats in use and the city itself looking fine despite the rain. Her buildings have lights on, her centers are seeing traffic. He’s not the only ferryman combing their way through the flooded causeways.

‘God party tonight,’ he signed, skidding them to a stop at the bottom of a stair leading up to the main avenues into Lillycove proper. People are running to get out of the rain, and other people are lounging in it.

‘You should come. Rain teams.’

He’s been invited. And he’s taking the plant until the next dawn, and the rock they’re toting as top prize.

It looks like a Megastone. Or like it could be.

‘Caldera.’

He pointed beyond the visual of the edge of the city, and the hot fog steaming from the water.

‘If you want to fight.’

So we are both going the same way, Giovanni thinks.

Red talks about the Old Gods awakened, primal spirits of earth and sea. Giovanni nodded along with the information. He was aware of the machinations of the two teams: Aqua and Magma. Giovanni was more than aware of what they tried to do- their misguided ambitions. Personal glory and reshaping the world…

He didn’t laugh at it, because he never treated the Old Gods as fairy tales.

They were pokemon, plain and simple. Powerful, magical beasts that were ruled over by instinct.

‘Old Gods sleeping. Woke them a few years ago. So they say, anyway. Can’t feel it?’

“...It may come as a surprise to you, but I actually can. I have no trouble sensing them.”

I wish I could stop sensing them so much.

Truly, Giovanni could. He’d always been blessed (or cursed) with a keen sense for the supernatural, even if he dulled his surface reactions to them, he could still feel their presences. In some places the prickling sensation was more overt than others, but the Old Gods’ presence in Hoenn was palpable.

It’s likely one of the reasons Giovanni can hardly stand being out right now. It’s overwhelming.

To feel the presence of something like Kyogre in every rain drop when there were thousands upon thousands of drops in a torrential downpour was actually enough to start to make him feel nauseous from the sensory overload.

They docked at a stairway, and Red invited him to a party in a Caldera with rain teams.

Giovanni tilted his head in interest, and considered the offer.

“Hah. Maybe. I’d assemble a team just in case, but I’d be content to just watch as well.”

He rose to disembark, but before he could, he fished in his bag and pulled out a cluster of broad leaves around a short root: A Revival Herb. He turned to hand it to Red, “... Here. As thanks for the passage. I found this while I was out and was intending to keep it. But I think you should have it.”

It does and does not surprise Red. Giovanni always struck him as in tune with the ground he was standing on, and his team, much the same, but what did surprise him was his willingness to do what he did, and tear the earth from other people. Maybe that’s why he didn’t believe it, because Giovanni’s only act that proved he could feel it was yielding to him. Everything else was ghosts and corpses.

He did yield the Earth to you.

And yet Rocket existed. And yet Mt. Silver was still full of bones.

You have a lot of work left to do.

Red scooped the herb up and nodded in thanks. Funny. That’s funny. He set it neatly beside the baby berry plant.

‘Thank you. Don’t be late.’

He whistled for Pikachu to start them off after their passenger hopped off safely past the first few steps, and the mouse whipped his tail with a sharp crack of electricity. Red balanced the raft evenly under his feet.

They’re off, racing defiant through the floodwaters, him turning them out of sight and Pikachu victoriously slapping a streetlight with his tail in passing, flickering it with a mischievous squeal.

He met up with people later while he’s needlessly wringing his hair out in a bathroom with six other people asking him what the berry plant and herb were for. He wrote for them not to touch it and they named it “Bent Benny”. He was invited to this thing because someone he battled last week was a said insane Pokémon contest entrée. It’s traditional, they say, to get painted up, so he let somebody else do his arms for him, and ran both hands over his face.

Waterproof, reflective, glowing paint in the rain. He put two sets of extra eyes on Pikachu for fun, poking both of his cheeks until he devolved into cackling.

His companions were nothing to sneeze at, either; one of them was a man ready with a wetsuit and a devil may care attitude, Brendan, the former? current? Hoenn champion. He’d painted and slicked his hair back in streaks. Looked like an otherworldly thing in the dark. His buddy Tristan, a water type fanatic with an absolutely precious Magikarp, painted himself up with an array too that looks like scales.

People come and go and, honestly, he had no idea how many people were going with him, but he hops on Lapras when it’s decided they’ve done ALL they could do to prepare to drown tonight.

The city sinks. The street light he’d passed earlier was not even a meter from the water level.

“Hey! Race you!”

Oh you’re on.

After the sun had set, the participants of the “Rain Dance” at Lilycove all individually rode the surf to the singular entrance of the ancient caldera basin, half filled with water.

Sponsored by the Contest Board, there was no shortage of expenses. Floating and suspension locked platform panels linked one edge to the other of the absolutely enormous volcano base. There were guard barriers for battles in smaller stadiums, and a huge larger stadium. It was well over three sizes what a tournament standard stadium was, and you could run the length of it.

Hey come dance~! Someone says. There’s thumping music too, and drinks (unadvisable). Pikachu made two fists at the huge stadium, and he had to agree, he had to nod at it.

It absolutely pours.

His paint ran down his face, and he grinned.

Giovanni stood at the top of the stairs, hands in pockets, watching Red and his Pikachu speed off to do whatever it was they were going to do.

A party tonight... I suppose I ought to get ready and do my research.

He hummed to himself in the rain. He could afford to go, he thinks. Remy wasn't due for another week, and this was his personal time to snoop around and enjoy himself before it was time to work again. It'd be good for picking up rumors and flexing his social sensibilities, certainly.

He entered into the hotel he's been staying in, squeezing in with others who also try to seek shelter from the rain. He gave a wave, a smile, and a nod to the secretary at the front desk, Carmen, but didn't do much else to distract her from work. But she does return each gesture- and explains to the inquisitive patrons she was dealing with that he was a "foreign researcher" that she'd made acquaintance with.

It paid to be kind to those in service work.

If anyone comes looking for you, those that you aid are more likely to come to yours. Reciprocity is how the world works for most.

To his credit, he was sympathetic to her struggles. Sitting at a hotel front desk was far from Carmen's idea of a career, but she still went out of her way to help him secure a fully furnished room with its own transporter for his "research."

He owed her a Mudkip. With a bit of money on the side.

Riding the elevator to the fifth floor, he took a plastic bag with his room key and Poryphone out of his chest pocket... the bag was steamy and drenched, but the contents were dry.

He removed the "Do Not Disturb" sign from the door handle, and swiped the card through the slot, waiting for the flash of green before he opened the door.

Persian was laid out on the hotel bed, glossy fur illuminated by the dim light of the lamp, flashing signs of the transporter, and a personal computer set up on the far wall where a window should be.

"Held down the fort while I was gone, did you?"

Her ear twitched, and she arched her back, reaching out paws and claws with strained tremors at the sound of Giovanni's voice, blinking lazily at him, and propping herself upwards.

"Oh, what a stretch! You don't have to get up on my behalf- I'm still soaked."

He took time to head into the shower. Now that the adrenaline's worn off, he could feel the steam of the shower soothe an ache in his chest he was unaware that he had. He took deep, strained breaths as he cleaned himself up. Headache setting in, and lightheadedness…

He could feel that he's getting ill. He'll be sick soon, he knew that much, having spent that long out in the rain. It always happens.

Giovanni dried off, donned a robe and slippers, and took a few preventative pills to stay off the symptoms as long as he could. He headed back to pet Persian to the sounds of overly excited children running down the hall.

He shook his head and huffed. Kids…

"You'll never believe who I ran into today."

Persian looked up at him, perplexed.

"Red," he responded, "He's grown quite a bit."

She folded her ears back and "mrowl-ed" in concern. Giovanni simply patted her head to give assurance. He would have been worse off without.

Settling at the PC with Persian hopping into his lap, he clicked over to browse local events, and top of the list was a party sponsored by the Contest Board. He browsed through pictures of cosplayers, glowsticks, blacklights, and waterborne battle arenas.

...Did I get invited to a rave?

He burst out laughing so suddenly, he choked into a coughing fit and startled Persian.

It's been some time, but he knew the dress code.

He plugged in his Poryphone into the transporter, allowing Porygon to stealthily connect him to his boxes of old Gear and queued the transporter to return him his old kit from when he'd done his international championship run about fifteen years earlier.

It's a long, black coat made of synthetic leathers designed to mimic a Rhydon's hide. Fire resistant panels and insulated lining to remove hazards from electricity. Spikes made of his Cloyster's shed tip spikes dotted the shoulders, and several belts with Gear loops and holsters swaddled the outer layers, and a removable zippered hood.

Back then, he didn't typically fight with the hood up. It limited his vision, and his hair used to be almost as long as the coat. He didn't like getting it caught.

The hood goes on now, though.

And then there was his pants... same Rhydon-pleather, but this time with Kakuna shed reinforcing the padding on his knees.

Finally, the boots. Black and sleek knee-highs with adjustable buckles along his calf and chunky platforms that absorbed shock and carried a mechanically activated cleat system. A stomp of the heel, and the cleats would latch on to the terrain.

It's all certainly a "retro" style of punk, but it's fitting to repurpose into an homage to an old, primal god.

He quickly ordered materials for the alterations, and got to work assembling the patterns of Groudon in neon white and red cording to pop under blacklight, and printed out a mask to filter his cough that also looked like rows of teeth.

Giovanni put on a red athletic shirt, and started assembling pieces of his outfit and Gear together. He's taller now, but his build hadn't changed much besides the shoulders that he already let out.

Persian flicked her tail, hanging her head as he dressed. Her ears drooped.

It must still smell like the others.

Giovanni paused in his work, and reached over to pet her.

"I know. But you'll be coming with me tonight. Look out for me, eh?"

She perked up and nodded resolutely. Giovanni wasn't going to battle her. He already had his team for the rain. But Persian was always his partner.

"Good," he replied, allowing her to climb up his arms and nestle on top of the spikes.

"Now let's grab an umbrella and go."

He's looking forward to this, now. It wasn't often he had an opportunity to train outside his beloved Ground-types. It was time to remind everyone there what it really meant to be a "master."

Five wins, one loss, five dances. Red loses track of time that passed and re-paints Pikachu up like a little imp. The caldera was an impressive lightshow, the sweltering rain illuminated every six seconds by another explosion of lightning across the rim. There had to be at least a thousand people here, and from that thousand, only about fifty or so battlers in a bracket. Saint and Sorcha, two of his drifters, pulled him into signing up immediately.

He made a heart at Sorcha with both hands, ‘I’ll impress you’, putting both hands out to the sides in a ‘Come what may’ gesture. It made them laugh like a loon while Tristan firmly explained that his Magikarp is splashing away with some kind of prize tonight. He believed him, and Sorcha smacked his cheek with their runny black lipstick for, ‘a little luck he doesn’t need’.

He always took it, though.

The minute he is thrown in a ring, music’s ripping the bones from his body and he’s glad for the white, absolutely shining gloves. Blacklights cut through sheets of rain, and the Banette disc jockey providing the entertainment, provided a backbeat cackling straight out of hell. It’s absolutely wonderful. He loved it.

And his Pokémon rain team blew through competitors with so much ferocity that Cory, one of the more bubbly friends he’d come with, said he needed to enter the finals bracket with a handicap.

And that’s when he lost a fight. It’s utterly spectacular. A trainer named May, and he heard she’s a champion too, meets him three on three and wins. The last hit was a brutal pummeling to his Milotic's side by her painted up Metagross in the rain. It’s a battle that pulled everyone’s attention. His heart’s in his throat with excitement by the end of it.

In the end, he ran the enormous length of the stadium to meet her in a high five and a laughing hug. What a fucking fight.

He’s not upset at all that he loses that one.

It rained like the world is ending, and while the final’s brackets were being drawn, he realized he had a pecha berry drink, and had no idea where it came from, and no clue how much he actually drank, but it tasted good.

Coral took it from him, ‘Are you crazy?!’.

Pikachu, a glowstick in his mouth, had just been waving it to the droning song of some house beat and singing along. Banette cackled again and everyone cheered. Red doesn’t know this song, but everyone else certainly does. Including Pikachu, somehow.

How the heck do you know this and I don’t?

He waited by a holo projection screen under an awning, for his seeding and final opponent. He’s the leader for the stone despite the one loss. The finals were in the enormous central arena. He couldn’t stop pacing.

This was the first gathering Giovanni’s been to in a while where he hadn’t been a host. But this was also a gathering where he was well above the median age of most participants. There were still others here in their forties like him, but they weren’t competitors for the most part. They were part of the crowd.

It’s a spectacle of a crowd in this weather, with over a thousand people in the collection of caldera floating stadiums. People cheered and whooped with the light show, forming waves of their own volition in the crowds, playing with one another and creating a show of their own for those on the field.

Registration opened for the competitors, and Giovanni waited patiently to register his pokemon and himself. He registered Omastar, Kabutops, and Cloyster as his rain team, then gave the false name “Terran” for himself.

Then it’s waiting for his turns, mingling, listening for rumors, and avoiding the drinks that would be interacting with his medication- which, sadly, was most of them.

But the trainers competing were spectacular! The company was wonderful, and the rumors were interesting (someone got fired from Mossdeep Space Center?). From both of these things, Giovanni met a man named Saint, who made his interest in Giovanni’s outfit (and things beneath it) known.

If he wasn’t already feeling under the weather, he would have taken him up on that- but he settled for the conversation and a phone number written underneath the cuff of his sleeve. It’s a boost of ego for sure.

Not that he needed another boost to his ego.

Persian was also attracting a lot of attention that she ate up like the spoiled queen she was, and Giovanni found himself spending time instructing the curious youngsters on approach.

“Yes, you can pet her, but let her smell you first, and only pet her by the whiskers. She doesn’t like anyone but me touching her anywhere else.”

But as if to prove her fickleness specifically to spite him, there was a young trainer that Persian bodily pressed her head into the palm of her hands and purred like the motor of a boat under that girl’s touch.

Betrayed once again.

He laughed in good humor at it, even though there’s a wet rasping sound to it.

‘You sound like you may be catching pneumonia,’ Saint advises, ‘you may want to see a doc about that.’

He simply nodded it off. Seeing a doctor... wasn’t really an option right now.

Six brackets.

The Banette jockeyed the music, and the stadium swelled with the crescendos. Giovanni could feel the energy in the air and- under the mask of anonymity- could actually take the time to appreciate it without any expectations or reputation to uphold.

His team cut through the competition, and this is the first time in a while that a match had actually felt like a competition, which was impressive enough on its own. The kids really were on something else these days.

But the kids also had no clue what two out of his three pokemon even were, and thus, were woefully under-equipped to deal with them. Kabutops’ swift Giga Drains and Aerial Aces eliminate a fair amount of the contestants in and of itself. He always switched out his lead to equally give his pokemon much needed exercise.

One victory, two, three... with each victory the battles get harder and harder, and his breathing becomes shallower and shallower... He felt like his lungs were filling with water, struggling to keep his head up even with both of his feet on land. But he was not giving up. He didn’t back down from a challenge once given.

Terran vs Red.

He’s not surprised to see Red facing him in the final round. It’s all routine by now.

Persian stood at his side, flicking her tail and eyeing Red across the field. She tapped at Giovanni’s foot with a paw to signal:

Be careful.

And he would be.

The announcer went through accolades, introducing each of them with highlights of their matches thus far, amping up the crowd, and rumbling the water enough that circular disturbances give a visual to the actual volume in the stadiums. There’s no way for either of them to hear each other on their sides, over the music, or the din of the crowd- so Giovanni signed to Red.

‘I showed up. Now show me what you can do.’

Challenge thrown.

“THREE...! TWO...! ONE...! MATCH BEGIN!”

Terran. Nice cover. Nice outfit.

I can’t believe you showed up.

Red thought it when the final straws were pulled, between pacing, overheating despite the onslaught of rain, and Pikachu having to tap his head to let him know it’s time to get your ass on the field.

It all came rushing back the minute ‘Terran’ stood across from him, a similar looking monster to the one his fifteen year old self fought against for his life. The smile he’d been wearing faded, and it’s like the volume in the earth shaking speakers throughout the water stadium was turned down. Time froze, for him, just for a moment. Pikachu was yelling at him and sparking like the Power Plant’s cables back home. The sky above was responding to him too, beginning to twist, and turn.

‘I showed up. Now show me what you can do.’

THREE.

Pikachu leapt off his shoulder in front of him, already building up momentum to sprint to the other side. The light’s slow for some reason.

Red raised a palm toward him, and made a solid fist, shattering it into five individual fingers. The paint on his body was smearing, and dripping. There were spirals all over his clothes smeared in the blacklight. Some old god. He doesn’t know what old god.

TWO.

Pikachu was leading, and lightning was breaching the rods set up to catch it all around the rim of the caldera. It’s hitting him because he’s calling it. People howled and cheered as much in shock as they did in excitement. They started a chorus with the countdown.

ONE.

It’s been five years. He’s only gotten stronger, and stronger. The rain fell and Pikachu looked like some kind of sprinting dragon on the reflective water, a trail of lightning behind him.

Oh shit what was in that drink…

MATCH BEGIN!

He signs a punch and Pikachu, in perfect synchrony, throws it. Thunderpunch. He’s going to beat him down no matter what. Without fail. Without restriction. Without quarter. Every single time until he’s dead. He has to win this fight.

Pikachu was struck by lightning, the music swelled, Red focused so hard he lost himself.

And so here they are, standing once again on opposing sides of a battlefield.

Everyone in this audience must have heard about the almost mythic struggle between Red and Giovanni. The infamy of that event lived on and repeated itself in echoes around the world ever since.

Giovanni almost pitied the audience. They’re about to witness something far more brutal than they’re equipped to deal with.

Almost.

He grinned beneath his mask as time all but stopped for them. The crowd disappeared from his vision. All that exists right now is him and his team. And Red and his team.

Can’t feel it?

It may come as a surprise to you, but I can.

There’s a presence here and now that sent shivers down his spine in a primal way- the ancient instinct of something greater than himself watching. It’s something greater than the presence of the audience, or the collective willpower of everyone here. He felt something behind Red’s eyes. It’s not a presence he’s ever felt before now, and something tells him it’s not even from here.

It may not be from Hoenn at all.

Well, he at least hopes whatever has his eyes on him is entertained.

Pikachu, struck by lightning, powering itself up, and Giovanni summoned Cloyster to the field.

This ancient bivalve was one of the few remaining original members of his championship team. Like the other two pokemon, it was also a “fossil,” but not in the strictest sense. Cloyster simply was old, and from another era of Giovanni’s life that was newly resurrected for this night.

“Poison Jab!”

He called it out, despite the hoarseness of his throat and the strain of use.

Cloyster dutifully obeyed his command, clamping itself shut and rolling forward to slam into Pikachu with the spikes that adorned its shell. Toxic venom oozed forth from the points, but it would be up to chance for the toxins to effect Pikachu.

That Pikachu had been honed into a perfect counter for many things Giovanni could throw at it, and it had been trained thoroughly in Saffron City... but what else could it do now?

Red shifted and paced quickly to the side, anticipating backlash. There has been no battle of theirs that hadn’t resulted in massive damages to people and property. He has to move to anticipate anything else that comes next. He’d just as likely get struck by lightning (which his Gear could handle) as he was likely to get sucked underwater and drown (which his Gear could not handle).

Red had to be prepared, he had to survive this, if not win this. He’d fight for every inch of this victory he could get.

This strange slice of the world that Hoenn was, seemed to be the only place on the planet he thinks was ready for the absolute ferocity of that Poison Jab. Cloyster built up a speed it shouldn’t have been able to and drove spikes into Pikachu at that top speed. The hit’s monstrous and Pikachu’s ready for it. He twists his supercharged body off the spines with a burst of electricity and blood. Usually hits were dulled enough by limiters to draw minimal amounts.

He didn’t anticipate those limiters working. It didn’t work on May. It’s not going to work now, on them. Pikachu lets out a shrieking ‘KYAAA!’, and Red runs beside him, moving with him into the motion of a second Thunderpunch into Cloyster’s tougher than steel shell. The noise it makes is absolutely deafening. Pikachu’s more focused. He punches again into the divot of the shell, trying to find softer insides to make into mincemeat.

The drink was spiked. It was absolutely spiked, because Red can’t stay still and he can’t find the focus to do much else but fight. And dance. He bounces on his heels to Banette’s haunting, booming bass drops. He can feel Pikachu’s movements through him, and he can feel something else too.

Something old was weighing on him so hard that he felt like he had to move.

Thunderpunch wasn’t going to cut it by itself. He makes a cutting motion with his hand and Pikachu moves the same way into a vertical chop with the force of all that muscle behind it. Brick Break.

Another lightning strike hits him. Banette howls. So does the crowd, growing and growing. They chant their names and the names of their Pokemon. Red watches one of the stadium tiles crack under Pikachu’s feet. It shouldn’t do that.

And... something is leaning on his shoulder. It hurts enough to make him flinch mid hop, but not pull him out of it.

There you are.

That’s the Red he knows. Not content to sit still or wait behind the guidelines in the ground marked for safety. No, he moved with his pokemon, and today was no different.

What was different, however, was the twitch in the face and glassiness of Red’s eyes…

Oh. I see.

Giovanni laughs to himself quietly. No use agitating his lungs further, but he can’t help himself. The kid must have gotten hold of a party drink that was spiked.

There’s no telling whether or not that’d give him a disadvantage or not. Best to assume not, since he’s done much the same without batting an eye.

Pikachu demonstrates great martial skill, Punching once with thunderous fists, and punching again with with enough force to smash cinder blocks.

Brick Break is skilled enough to shatter one of Cloyster’s spikes, in spite of the limiters- and out of the corner of his eye, Giovanni can see the machines in the wings pulsing light and flashing warnings as they fail to keep up with the demands of all the power in the stadium.

There’s a dip in power, ever so slight... Who knows how long it’s going to hold?

Don’t rely on it.

Giovanni rushes up to his Cloyster, that rolls backwards to disengage from Pikachu. Giovanni stomps his heel into the ground, and activates the cleats to stick into the terrain. He signs over to Red as a courtesy:

‘Dodge.’

“Cloyster, Avalanche!”

Cloyster screeches and hops in the air, spinning around itself. It draws water up from around the floating field and turns the rain into snow. The water wall rising around Cloyster becomes a wave of ice that cracks and falls around Cloyster. Cloyster turns the ice into snow and hurls it at Pikachu with an intense force.

Cracking and whirling snowfall competes with the music and the thunder for volume, drowning out all other sounds in the vicinity.

Giovanni ducks, and allows the snow to fall around him, safely planted in the ground. The same can’t truly be said for Pikachu.

Pikachu did a lot of damage to Cloyster. Cloyster’s fought well, but this may be the last big thing it can do before that Pikachu finishes him off…

Another thought crosses his mind- what would he do if he won? He hadn’t considered the publicity aspect of winning. Giovanni was battling for battling’s sake. He didn’t want to lose- but winning had a lot more consequences than rewards if he wasn’t careful.

He’s not giving up. Red will have to snatch this victory like he’d done for so many that came before.

Show me what you can do. How will you win this time?

Dodge.

Red doesn’t know how he catches or reads the warning from the league away. The power limiter pulse machines are sparking and he has just enough time to break right and run out of the path of a maelstrom of high speed ice. The power flickers with threatening vengeance, and Pikachu stands direct center in it. He’s absolutely blasted with the force of the ice, Cloyster’s spinning amplifying the speed of the attack.

The water on the ground was being sucked into the ever-increasing blast that Cloyster was spewing.

Pikachu lets out a vicious shriek in the middle of it, drowning out Banette's hooting and howling.

Red’s focused despite the fact he can’t stop moving. And Pikachu wants to hit as hard as possible through the blast. The ice keeps spewing out of Cloyster’s spin, and Red draws himself in a readied crouch, springing forward like a runner and running as Pikachu bursts from the jetstream, his entire body flying like a bullet forward.

Beat him down.

Volt tackle.

The minute Pikachu erupts from the stream, the entire stadium’s power flickers, and swells, and every single machine around the caldera’s edge bursts into a thousand pieces when the power returns with the music. There was a commentator screaming over the din for each move executed.

“What is going on?! That level can’t be right…!”

There were screens and sensors to try and determine the capacity of a pokémon, showing the status of the battle and estimations of their capacity to keep fighting. Limiters set everyone to an equal standard of level 50. The display glitched, trembled, and Pikachu was at 100. A failsafe measure wraps the stadium in a quickly generated barrier despite the massive length of the field.

And the ref should call it immediately for safety reasons. They would have if not for the failsafes in place. They don’t.

This place has been wrecked before.

Red’s not sure he’d listen if it was called either.

Pikachu hits with everything he’s got, and it breaks through the Avalanche and through Cloyster’s solid defenses. Spines break, the field shatters with the impact, pieces of the stadium suddenly floating among the water. The destruction is contained to this massive space, but he has to run and leap across a crack in the floor threatening to send him a few feet down to touch the caldera’s muddy bed.

“PIKA! PIKA!”

Pikachu, defiant until the end, raises up both arms and shrieks, still standing, bloodied and continually struck by lightning.

THAT ALL YOU GOT?! THAT ALL YOU GOT?!

Red sprints across a separating platform, keeping his balance, his heart pounding. He whistles over the screaming, sharp and shrill.

People are starting to realize he’s the real Red. The fever pitch it’s whipping everyone into is absolute madness. He has to bounce from platform plate to platform plate. The artificial gravity balances are somewhat still in effect, but it’s like walking on moving water. It would feel great if it didn’t mean the ground was splitting open.

Volt Switch, now!

What do you do when confronted by a force of nature?

What can you do when confronted by a force of nature?

For the mere viewers in the audience, it meant that the security hired by the event organizers were quickly trying to evacuate the first five rows of the arena, dubbed “the Splash Zone”. It was apparent with the limiters going out of order, those rows were going to be “the Flood Zone” or “the Electrocution Hazard Zone” or a myriad of other dangers that Giovanni and Red could command.

Persian yowls at the force of Cloyster crashing down- his tough shell clamping closed to protect the soft innards inside. Spikes clattered off of the exterior, venomous ooze murks up the water and ice nearby.

“He’s survived,” Giovanni assures Persian.

Cloyster had a tough shell. The exterior was an unknown, and so far, unreplicatable material that could withstand a missile strike.

Giovanni should know, he’s witnessed that first hand.

But a man-made ballistic and explosive device was incomparable to the sheer power of a fully trained monster like Pikachu.

The power levels flash, despite the limiters being broken.

One Hundred.

“That level can’t be right...!”

Oh, but it is. Giovanni had no doubt in his mind that that was the power level that Red had raised his Pikachu to. His own Ground Team was close, and Cloyster, resting at ninety-two was close- but this was after a decade and a half of steady practice and skills learned.

Red had done this in five.

The impact of Cloyster’s fall left tremors that Giovanni recognized as the ground splitting. Pikachu had made its own little Earthquake using Cloyster’s bulk and near-indestructibility against him, and now the terrain was splitting off, floating freely in the water.

Giovanni winces at Cloyster’s fall. In spite of everything, he was still in tune with his monsters’ pain. He’d hardened his heart, but not removed it completely. Red is still the only opponent he’d faced in a long time that made him feel this way.

And, despite everything, he likes it. He loves the chaos that they sew whenever they clash. They weren’t people that fled from the forces of nature. They embraced it- one side or another.

“Cloyster, return! Persian climb on to me!”

He holds out his hand with Cloyster’s pokeball, and stomps his heel once more to disengage the claw gripping the earth beneath. Persian climbs up onto his shoulders, balancing on top of him, already running even with the recall incomplete.

Some things you want to ground yourself for, others, you need to move.

And he’d have to surf over the split chunks of earth and feel out his next moves. Pikachu was done for- recalled through use of Volt Tackle. Giovanni can’t wait and see for the next enemy.

They have to finish this. Bubbling in his lungs and burning in his chest be damned.

“Kabutops!”

He leaps over a piece of terrain to get closer to Red’s position on the miniature sea, and tosses Kabutops, one of his fossil pokemon, up in the air, not on the terrain.

She materializes, chittering with an insect-like cry, searching for her landing.

Another pokemon begins to materialize on Red’s side of the field.

No hesitation.

“Aerial Ace!”

She pulls her bladed arms to her chest and lowers her head, turning the aerial awakening into a dive, heading straight for Red’s newly summoned monster. At the last moment, she unfurls her bladed arms and spins, pirouetting like a ballet dancer, to bring them down on her opponent.

We are the forces of nature here.

When the light floods in, it’s with a CLANK of metal on solid scaled flesh. The incredible dive was met with such a loud and rapturous cheer. It was incredible. Kabutops made a shadow against the strobes and flashing lights. The water spray creature dotted its shell like stars in the blacklight. It looks like someone dunked it in glowing paint. And it looks like it’s dancing when it hits.

The bladed arm sinks into Blastoise’s solid forearm as he guards against it, a huge, manic grin on his face.

‘HEH.’

Blastoise slams a foot down and his Blackglasses slip off his face down his beak. He clicks his tongue like Red, and winks at the assailant trying their best to stab down and succeeding. A huge flickering screen splays the new contender’s statistics.

Level 100. It shouldn’t be right. Banette howls in vicious excitement into the mic and starts a new setlist. It loves them. It says so, echoing through the entire caldera.

No, it shouldn’t. But it is. So it is.

Commentators and audience noise blends together. The Banette keeps beat for Red and Red keeps focused.

Red mimics the movement. He grins too, pulling a fist back and throwing it forward as Blastoise plants a kick into Kabutops’s center to shove them off. Kabutops is going to outspeed him in every way. Blastoise yanks the shades off his face with a huff and tosses them to the side, to Red.

Red catches them and pops the oversized shades over his eyes, breaking into a full sprint over the broken terrain and signing:

‘Dark Pulse.’

The central lightning in the stadium, series of square, high power battle lighters, dim and black out on beat. It’s like watching a heart swell and beat. Blastoise rears back and throws his head forward, a ring of pitch black energy spilling from his mouth and slamming into Kabutops, shredding scaling off its shell. Kabutops’s shell pulses fluorescent colors. People start singing along to the song something popular about breaking bones, music, dancing until you die.

His gloves glow bright white under this light, leaving ghost trails behind them.

Or maybe that’s the drink playing tricks on him.

Blastoise takes the initiative, cannons racking back and fully drawing into its shell. Red braces both arms to himself. It seems his team came today to sprint, not pull endurance matches. So be it. He wanted a beatdown, not a dance.

Blood shines under blacklight. Blastoise draws into his shell completely and it starts sliding on the sinking terrain. And then it spins, and bursts. There’s a spray that runs into the water and beats bright blue. Blastoise flexes in it, glowing and streaked with smeared viscera and pieces of bone. His front is a gaping wound that heals almost immediately under the rain.

Shell smash.

He’s fast without it, metal canons articulating like a second pair of arms. His scales litter the field. He stomps forward with intent and aims.

Dodge this.

And fires. Ice beam. Frost spews from both canons, freezing the water under him and around him and securing passage between the broken pieces of the field.

Red loves fighting like this, because it’s at his best. He feels like a monster taking swipes with its claws and collapsing buildings. He feels like the thing under the mountain reminding the world why people were afraid of gods.

Giovanni skids over the ice to a stop- midpoint in the terrain. The ice slides him further to keep up with the shots.

Blastoise enters the field, and is immediately in his element. Not only in the water of the arena, but in the adoration of the crowds, the cheers amp up with all the destruction and the spectacle of power.

How could one not be in awe?

Kabutops gets cheers of her own, the unusual fossil absolutely radiant under the glow of the blacklight.

Interesting.

It’s something to note for research later- he’d suspected the relation with other bug-types…

She spins with grace, slicing into the Blastoise, who with a flash of shades, grins and bears her claws.

The power level flashes across the top of the screen: One Hundred for Blastoise, and Eighty-Eight for Kabutops.

There’s a steep difference in power- but it’s far beyond what most are able to achieve. Most people can achieve up to the sixties after years of dedication and study, and most people fall off training before the maximum theorized level could be achieved.

The lights dim with Dark Pulse, and the fluorescent markings on the shell of Kabutops makes her stand out like an ancient spirit of the deep. Neon green and purple swirls undulate under a cyan hull.

She doesn’t flinch, this creature of the deep brought to the surface, brought to life... but the energy still buffets her, sapping life force from her body and bursting blood vessels.

Blastoise smashes his shell, fragments clattering over terrain and spilling into water, and in a jolt of speed begins to expel ice over the field and at Kabutops.

She’s resilient- she’s not weak to ice at all, but it still hurts with the difference in levels between them.

Giovanni rushes forward, in tandem with this monster of his creation, who was waiting on him to direct her motions. He huffs in exertion. The ice in the air feeling like it was making crystals in his bubbling lungs, and turning his breath into fog. Giovanni raises his arms and clamps his cleats into the ice to steady himself.

If there was any chance of surviving this for her- she’d have to strike at his weaknesses, but she had to raise herself to match him…

“Ancient Power!” He cries, huffing as bubbles from the fluid in his lungs crackle at the back of his throat.

Kabutops warbles, splaying her bladed arms to the side, then raising them above her head as the terrain splits even further, and from the deep, several ancient stones are summoned to the surface. Pieces of calcite and other minerals glow brightly in the stones, and her body glows brightly as well, her eyes change from white to pink.

Prehistoric fragments powered up this prehistoric creature.

With an ungodly roar, Kabutops hurls the stones into Blastoise’s damaged shell, and the energy ripples between her and her enemy. She’d grown stronger and advanced in just that short frame of time.

Now is the opportunity to strike.

“Ach-ch!” he coughs, “Kabutops, now! Use Giga Drain!”

Kabutops nods her flat and broad head, spinning on a clawed toe on top of the ice. Green energy swirls under her exoskeleton- and in the blacklight, everyone can see her inner workings channeling this energy.

“KREEEE-YA!“

Kabutops screeches at the top of her lungs, an orb of bright light spilling out from her mouth, and bursting forth at Blastoise, hitting him square in the chest.

The energy ripples like electricity throughout the entire giant turtle, and wringlets of energy swim back to Kabutops, repairing her injuries and bringing her back up to a healthy level. She screeches in relief.

“Good girl!” Giovanni praises. Persian yowls in the same manner.

This was going to be close.

The Giga Drain hurts. It hurts to the point of Blastoise taking a knee. She splits his ice and his blood gravitates towards her with unquenchable ferocity. Blastoise keeps grinning. He’s grinning more and more the more she keeps wailing into him. Red’s at a type disadvantage. He knows that. He also knows Blastoise is a methodical type of fellow. Thoroughly cunning.

Blastoise straightens up and smashes a primal stone with his heel, rocks sliding off his bloodied hide. He’s having more than a good time taking the hits from a pretty lady. The rain’s healing him too fast for her. The level difference is ten, but it might as well be an entire league.

Red has to hand it to Giovanni. He knows damn well how to raise and train Pokémon. Kabutops is incredible.

She’s gorgeous.

Nobody in this region could even identify her properly. She looked like some ethereal creature meant to cut the water in front of her and cut Blastoise until he stained the caldera permanently.

Which seemed fine for him. Blastoise, new deep gashes in him from her violent energy, stomps towards her with more speed, grabbing around her whirling blades and all and picking her up. She’s a lot lighter than him. Red wants to cross the boundary into Giovanni’s border. He’s losing territory. His tiles are sinking. There’s no penalty for going under, but there’s a lot of danger in it.

Alright. Submission!

Blastoise brings Kabutops down into the ice with a CRACK. His clenched fist glows, a pinprick of concentrated energy in the palm. He clicks at her.

He winks again.

Red snorts and whistles at him. Stop flirting. Keep your focus.

Hard for him to say when he’s losing focus himself.

Blastoise pushes an Aura Sphere into her while she’s down, flinging her back into jagged ice shards. He bellows and croons under the whoops and chants of the crowd. He loves the attention being thrown on him. He’s fucking hurt.

Damn!

In a massive display of force, Blastoise grabs Kabutops out of the air and slams her into the ice, cracking scales off of her hide and helmet. She shudders and chitters and completely freezes in place in the Submission.

Blastoise winks at her, and Giovanni sighs in exasperation.

He hates sometimes that his pokemon are so much like him, and that they all enjoy being powerful- but also enjoy that power being shown to them as well.

Blastoise is flirting with her, and she's receptive to it.

Giovanni prepares to issue a command to escape it, but the air he takes in chokes him, dizzies him, greys out his peripheral vision, and forces him to adjust his stance. By the time he rights himself, Blastoise already has an orb of energy crackling in his fist, ready to send Kabutops through the ice below her.

Aura Sphere.

This is bad-! he panics. Without the limiters, Aura Sphere can hit him and Persian where they are.

Neither of them can afford to go under. With the energy in the air, the shifting terrain, and the undertow developing wouldn't release them if they get caught.

He clamps down, turning his body to the side to minimize exposure, and raises his arms in an 'X'.

Giovanni doesn't care if any referees call foul or not, this is life or death-

-and this is where he excels.

"Persian, Protect!"

Persian digs her claws into the armor, and yelps. From her gem, a wave of barely-visible energy blooms in front of the both of them just in time for the rippling crashes of Aura Sphere to slam into the hastily conjured shield.

They aren't blown off of their small refuge on the floating terrain, but the entire piece is propelled backwards, and the waves surrounding them chop up against the outcrop. The force tips the terrain backwards.

Time to move.

Giovanni leans forward and grabs onto the far edge of the busted terrain as it keels up. They're hanging on, verticle above water and sinking quickly.

Persian yowls in distress. He knows what she means:

'We need to go!'

"Let's go!"

He hoists himself and her up, poising on the ledge to quickly assess where their next haven would be. No choice where to go except closer.

He and Persian leap off together and land on a nearby piece of the field with a little less grace than preferred, slipping on the rime that formed and wobbling down onto a knee. He coughs at the pain, tastes iron in his sputum. He wheezes, and takes a moment to regain his balance. Persian leaps off of his back and crawls under his arm to give him support, clamping her own claws down to keep from sliding.

That hurt- but he and Persian were still above water, which was all that mattered.

Now back to the task at hand, Kabutops.

She's badly hurt, but still kicking. Blastoise and Red figured out one of her weaknesses: Fighting-type moves.

She and the icy blood glow a bright cyan under the blacklight, and with each passing moment, the cold rain heals the shell-less Blastoise, and she observes in awe.

"Kabutops!" he yells with audible exasperation, "We didn't come here to make eggs! Get out of there, and use Giga Drain!"

Courtship over.

"Kre-yah..."she croons. Nothing personal.

She kicks a clawed foot over Blastoise's jaw to flip herself backwards and away, skirting on the ice and digging her bladed arms down to bring herself to a comfortable pause.

She summons the energy from her core to ream Blastoise and ricochet back to her, healing her wounds and sparking changes in the neon patterns on her carapace. She's capable of taking hits, so this is now about endurance.

And under his mask, where no one could see- Giovanni's grinning.

Let the chaos unfold.

Blastoise is being a flaunting cock of a turtle. Jackass. He’s showboating and flexing, and the second Giga Drain doesn’t hit him as hard as the first one but he acts like it does for the sheer hell of it. Blood runs down his chest and back in patterns that follow his older scars and tough as hell scales. He’s thrown down into a karst of ice that was split with the force of his body, and he makes a show of slowly getting back up and smearing the blood she’s sucking right out of him over his face in huge, clotty streaks. He’s healing and bleeding rapidly in the rain.

Impish nature, and extremely cunning. He looks like exactly what he is, a cuthroat monster. Blastoise opens his ridged beak and calls once, a bellowing.

Nothing personal. He’s going down for it, absolutely, but he’s going to take her out with him. The ref doesn’t call the foul in the same way that they didn’t call the stop to the battle. And…

Neither of them care. They don’t. The platforms are done for and are so blown apart by the battle that despite having perfect balance on one, he hops down into the knee-deep water to resume command of the situation without sliding around like a dizzy Spinda. His vision is blurry and blotted with color. His gloves look incredible. Blastoise looks like a fucking nightmare and it makes Red grin like a Hex Maniac.

That drink is... really hitting me.

And so is the battle. His heart’s pounding in his ears when he draws back his fist with Blastoise, calling on all the ancient things watching them both stepping into the skins of mythological stories. There’s always a fight at the end of the world that has to be won, fought by people who usually didn’t want it to be this way.

That last part? That’s incorrect.

Red’s so in his element that he wouldn’t wish for anything differently. Blastoise gathers energy to him, silver light building behind him. Red pushes his fist forward as Blastoise does, a collapsed orb of pure force flying from his palm and hitting Kabutops, the other side of the field, the water, the barrier behind them which fizzles with the force and threatens to collapse.

Red’s head’s a mess. The water’s glowing so brightly under all the lights and pokémon displays. It looks like a huge, multicolored eye, opening under their feet, watching them. He trudges through the water and the rain, taking out Blastoise’s ball and recalling him. He’s done, and he’s not continuing a kaiju’s courting dance.

Red shoves the shades back into his pocket, and pops the last pokémon from his belt. He tosses it skyward, and the light that spills out of it melts into glowing, flashing scales and brilliant shimmers. The long, serpentine body of Milotic spills into being under the rain, landing behind him with a heavy splash.

He raises both arms to the rain, both palms to the sky. The glowing paint streaked down his arms in lines. The water’s filled with Blastoise’s blood. He thinks they probably can’t call it off, because they can’t reach them through the barrier. He can hear the commentary, fast and electric, but muted through the barrier. The audience chants something.

He claps both hands together and pushes them forward, palms out.

Milotic’s shimmering, shifting tail collapses, and expands, water rising and spiraling around his shimmering scales.

Aqua Ring. Aqua Ring.

He makes the water dance around them in levitating spirals, and Milotic springs forward, diving into the flooded stadium and corkscrewing under it.

CRACK.

Kabutops is finished. The Aura Sphere does her in, pulsating energy that she cannot avoid, and that Giovanni and Persian are poised thankfully away from. Giovanni rises back up to a fighting stance, with Persian balancing at his side. The piece of terrain bobs up and down, whim to the ripples that ebb and flow from the force of Blastoise’s attack.

Red recalls the beast, but the water is already stained with with the mingled blood of Kabutops and Blastoise, small specks of green glow and float among the red whorls spiraling down.

It’s two down for each of them now, it’s all down to their last pokemon.

“Kabutops, return!”

Giovanni pulls out her ball to recall her, letting her rest safely inside.

She did well, and put up a fight that many others wouldn’t be able to withstand, in spite of the level difference. Kabutops isn’t a part of his main team, she still has a long way to go. He’s proud of her performance, regardless. She was truly exceptional.

He’s still grinning at this display of primal violence. The rain downpours, the sharp smell of iron and copper linger in the air, along with ozone from electricity- the terrain of the field is destroyed, bobbing up and down with glaciers that have formed among everything.

They’ve all come so far. He’s just as impressed by Red now as he was five years ago, and he can’t help but to nod his respect across the way, as Red slinks into the water to swim with the Milotic that slithers forth with grace.

Milotic is a true testament to Red’s skill as a trainer, and he understands why he saves the serpent for his last. He’s a testament to Red’s care as a trainer.

The Milotic is a truly beautiful specimen, and the blacklight reveals another layer to the beauty of the luminescence of deep sea creatures. The writhing patterns are almost hypnotic, a fresh breath of air, a reprieve, from the intensity of the battle. Even if it is only for a moment.

It’s too bad that Giovanni appreciates a show of skill even more than visual aesthetic, and in this apocalyptic domain, he was itching to bring this fight to a certain victory, whether it be his or Red’s.

He pulls out his last pokeball, and throws it out to the center of the pool. A flash of light disrupts the violet darkness, and a bulking nautiloid shell with spikes slithers out into the deep, tentacles feeling out around herself, and her four pronged beak flashing with a gurgling squawk.

“Omastar! Muddy Water!”

Omastar dives below the surface, and sinks into the silt and disturbed terrain, shaking itself and unearthing the softer sand and debris. Dirt clouds the water, and is suspended in it as Omastar also secretes a mucousy material around itself.

Milotic swims closer, carrying a ring of energy around itself, patterns of light flashing on his hide.

Omastar waits for the crucial moment- and strikes, using her beak to siphon the muddied water back up, and spew the mixture at Milotic.

Success.

Even though this isn’t a type-effective move, Omastar strikes against the eyes of her opponent, effectively compromising the creature’s vision... It’s a move that would buy a little more time, and luck was on his side for this one.

It’s a close match already, and he’s already considering his Omastar’s moves: Muddy Water, Stone Edge, Dive, and Whirlpool-

Whirlpool.

It would counter the Aqua Ring’s healing, but…

He looks over to Red in the water. Even though the young man is his opponent (enemy?) he’s still reluctant to have him seriously hurt. Perhaps it’s a shred of decency, or perhaps it’s selfish, because he truly does enjoy their battles, as close a call as they were for his life.

It’d be a shame to not be able to do this again.

Giovanni leans lower, vision graying out at his peripherals again. He’s almost beyond words with the struggle just to breathe, so he signs to Red.

‘You may want to get out of the water.’

He doesn’t see it immediately. There’s a thick haze over his head that layers on that It’s Over. It’s Over. This is over. There’s something about the ripple of the water when Milotic dives, taking that hit to the eyes and crooning ear-bursting whalesong in response.

Red doesn’t see it, and he signs without looking up, ‘OVER’. It’s done. He wades behind Milotic, slashing at the water in front of him in repeated sign.

DANCE.

His clothes cling to him, and he’s numb. He doesn’t notice he’s gasping to breathe because his heart’s beating too hard, and he doesn’t notice how hard he’s cinching his jaw. Milotic shimmers, and spectral lights erupt out of her scales despite the muck and grime, dancing over Milotic’s body in dreamlike wyrm shapes. Dragon Dance.

And this is it. He can feel Milotic’s muscles constricting together and moving under the skin, and he turns as he turns, lunging forward as he does.

Draco Meteor.

Milotic slams his tail into the waves and they suspend around him, glowing with blood under blacklight, and his pulsing scales. There is no finer ode to the great old gods than taking a creature that remembers the blood it came from, and through it, burning a hole in the air above them.

He wished Lance was watching him.

He wished the Blackthorn clan was watching.

He wished…

Milotic opens its jaw, rearing back and the entire stadium leans towards it with the drawing gravity. A burning, glowing sphere starts building in Milotic’s throat with that deep, horrific, abyssal call it makes, before it throws the energy and its entire body forward, crest splayed out, tail fan spread, scales all raised.

In that beam of energy, there’s starlight. In that beam, there was primal, eldritch dust that confirmed that this world, this monstrous, horrific, incredible world beat in tune with the bones of dragons.

The meteor hurls itself towards Omastar, cutting the sound out with a sonic boom. It peters back in, in degrees, Red shaking with the effort of his body disobeying him.

It needs to be over. I’m sick.

Milotic lets out a wail that carries into the sky.

'OVER.'

Red completely ignores Giovanni's warning, refusing to look up at or acknowledge him.

Fury and fear boil up to the surface and almost seizes his lungs into choking. He wants to shout at him: Are you stupid? You're in danger!

Even though nothing's happened-

Yet.

That 'yet' beats in the recesses of his thoughts as Milotic bellows in whalesong, echoing off the far recesses of the caldera.

You lost…

Everything falls quiet for Giovanni. He can't tell if the audience is stunned speechless, or if he's consumed by focus, and an uncanny awareness overtakes both his rational and emotional thought.

...now live through this.

Giovanni just 'is' in this moment, and he's already moving in preparation. He is only action.

The first second.

Brilliant starlight shines in hues of gold and mageroyal, Earth beckons beneath them. Dragon song calls to space and something listens. Giovanni stands up, and Persian begins to climb up his arm intuitively-

Two seconds.

- All he can hear now is a heartbeat and persistent ringing. Giovanni doesn't know whose beat it is, but he steps into rhythm. He takes Persian, and begins to run towards where Red is in the water, leaping and skidding across the icy terrain-

Three.

-The three pinpricks of light loom closer and breach the stratosphere with a splash of glorious firelight. Streams of color burst and spin around each other, creating pure white light with an iridescent trail. Omastar cannot avoid this attack, it's too zeroed in. Giovanni knows the difference in power. Even with the distortion in accuracy, Milotic will land this attack critically. The limiters are not in place. If this hits her, she'll die. He leaps over the remnants of his field, crossing into Red's territory. He reaches for her pokeball at his side…

Four.

Giovanni takes the pokeball in hand, steadying himself to take aim. The light of the meteor is bright and close. He can feel the heat on his arms, and see ice melting, turning into steam with the approach -

Five.

"Persian, Protect! Omastar, return!"

Protect is not going to be as effective, Persian had already used it before, but anything he could do to limit the damage…

Persian focuses on the energy around her as Giovanni presses down on the activator. Omastar obeys and allows herself to get pulled back out of harm's way. Giovanni flashes the sign for 'yield' up to the commentators.

Match over. Danger, on the other hand…

The barrier shimmers around them all, and Giovanni sprints the final yards toward Red-

Six.

Red's in the water. At this range, it's easier to see blown out eyes and the shivers of sparse attention. He has no focus- drug induced. Giovanni leans down to grab onto Red's shoulder, arm, anything he can get ahold of-

Persian yowls in urgency.

We're out of time!

Draco Meteor arrives, the heat from its descent turns ice clear, and decreases the glacier's size by half, and creates a perfect concave bowl of evaporated water around itself before the energy evens out and the water boils.

The meteor doesn't stop. It punches a hole through the exposed crust of earth, and sends a massive wall of water up to the sky. The force of it pushes them all back, and shatters Persian's protective barrier.

But they're still heads above water.

The resulting waves toss and chop, and it takes all of Giovanni's focus to hold on and clamp down. The sting of Persian's claws keeps him firmly present.

They start drifting back after the waves start settling, but Giovanni freezes when he hears a rasping, gurgling noise similar to how his lungs popped through fluid trying to take in air.

The earth that was cracked was taking on water, forming a tiny drain spout.

Whirlpool.

The scariest thing about water is that it doesn't look scary. The water can hold you down, drown you, crush you- if you get caught up in it, it doesn't matter how well you swim, your only hope is to pray.

Giovanni wonders briefly. Was his earlier thought of Whirlpool him just examining his moves? Or a forewarning from…

"Red- ach," he sputters, "Get out-"

"THE WINNER, RED.”

Rapture and applause drowns everything out. He barely registers that he’s being pulled quite violently and suddenly as he recalls Milotic mid-dance. The barrier is still up, now the staff rushes in on emergency vehicles, but both of them are far too far away for anybody to reach them immediately.

Giovanni rushes towards him, and he can’t quite catch what he’s saying from far away. The man croaks from under the hood and starts hacking in a way that makes Red’s face pull a frown.

And then he’s pulled sharply back and it becomes clear how much danger he’s in, very fast. Red scrambles in the water, nearly tripping to grab onto the edge or the man trying to snare at his shoulders and pull him up. He’s fighting against the sudden, and terrifying rush of a tide pulling him back.

Despite the cloud in his head, he clamps his hands up Giovanni’s arm, straining and slipping to the point of hanging onto him by his hand. Red grabs it with both and hangs on for dear life, gritting his teeth with the effort of fighting against being sucked under.

Red almost goes under, something that no one notices because the nature of water was to be destruction unseen.

It’s both of them at the peak of their adrenaline that rip him out of the water, rolling onto the platform and bracing on his palms while he wheezes for air. It’s a moment of terror that passes, and he stands with shaky legs to an unaware audience, grabbing Giovanni to stand with him too.

Red listens to the water in his lungs. Giovanni’s hacking his air out.

‘Sick.’

He signs it, nodding, quaking on his feet and absolutely soaked. It’s unclear who it’s for, him or Giovanni. Emergency personnel flood in and the barrier fizzles out, damage done. Red grabs his forearm and nods, shaking it once in conclusion of the absolute chaos they just caused, and pulling on Giovanni’s sleeve to draw his attention, hardly managing focus to form words.

‘Come on. Sick. Come on. Take care of- heal.’

People cross the field to meet them. He starts hobbling over the remaining platform pieces, dizzy and grimacing. People tap his back in congratulations, the water level behind them levels out, people congratulate Giovanni.

He signs, ‘Follow me. Take care of you.’

Red grabs on to his arms and slips, grasping for something, and catches Giovanni by the hand. The force of the undertow is dragging on both of them, enough to make the clamps in Giovanni's boots scrape out of place-

-but he's not letting go.

He crosses his free arm over to grab at both of Red's hands, keeping him steady, and pulling him back up on the platform, Persian assisting with her teeth on the coat and claws dug firmly into the ground.

With slow, consistent exertion, Red is finally freed, launching onto the platform. They both cough and wheeze with the exertion. Giovanni is the only one that keeps coughing as Red shakily stands and pulls Giovanni up with him.

'Sick.'

Who? Me?

He doesn't even have air or energy to be sarcastic- which is really the most concerning thing to him.

He's hardly conscious or comprehending when emergency personnel come to assist them. The cheers for Red, for him, only registers as a dull, soothing thump.

His vision grays out again, this time threatening to overtake his entire focus.

Down... Down is very tempting…

His leg throbs and wobbles, adrenaline fading, and allowing pain back up to the surface.

Down... You're safe now.

He quakes and stumbles into Red as his pace suddenly drops.

A whoop and a firm congratulatory smack on his back from a complete stranger jolts Giovanni out of his stupor-

No! You're not safe until you're out of here!

Giovanni rears up with a spike of adrenaline as his mood drops dangerously, and violently low at the intrusion. It takes all of his self-control and discipline not to swing out at the touch, muscles locking up to immobilize the response.

Rage still burns at his throat, even though he knows this is a disproportionate reaction. Maybe it would have been different if he didn't feel exposed and vulnerable.

"Please-" he chokes out, "N-no touching. Sore."

It's good enough.

Red signs to him to follow him, pulling Giovanni away. It's probably for the best. The pants and huffing from exertion and pneumonia are starting to sound like growls.

They may as well be.

Reluctantly, he lets go of his focus on those around him, and solely follows Red. For better or worse.

Stick with the enemy you know.

Giovanni’s worse than him. It’s abundantly clear when they’re rushed out of the stadium and tended to by what feels like a horde of people running through basic injury medical in a tented space. They give a few bandages, some revitalizing pills (if they wanted), and they’re shunted to a separate space in the back. There are people that talk to them, congratulate them (and Red stands between them and Giovanni, politely interrupting any moves to touch him).

Red gets the prize, an incredibly rare set of mega stones- blanks, in a beautiful silk lined box. He gets the contact information of someone who runs a ring called “Ossuary” in Kalos.

Even the DJ comes to see them.

It’s by the grace of Red’s ability to disappear entirely into any crowd, that he pulls Giovanni and himself away, desperately texting (a nearly impossible task in his state), Sorcha to help. He’s bringing Torren with him. He’s really sick.

Sorcha is a blessing. She does manage to find the lousy state of them lingering behind a propped screen with an awning while the party continues into the night. Tristan, Saint, and Sorcha gawk at them, and then immediately start orchestrating serious assistance.

Red can hardly walk at that point in a straight line and “Torren’s” lungs sound like they’re failing. Sorcha tosses her Lapras out for them to crawl onto (it’s faster than walking the sandbars), and collapse.

It rains while Lapras bobs over the sea, back to Lillycove’s beaches and raised lines of warm, dry houses. Red is spitting out blood and pieces of his teeth into the ocean, and somebody puts a charm in his mouth so he stops chewing out his fillings. There’s a lot of ‘are you okays’ and sweet sentiments. There’s softer congratulations. He mimes everyone off of touching Giovanni.

Red has no idea who put an umbrella over them, and when that happened. Eventually, they’re also pulled off the Pokémon by someone (he doesn’t know which person), and someone else fumbles with keys and lets them in. There are a few from the rescue party staying with them, but most are leaving to return to the madness in the monsoon.

Sorcha gives them dry clothes and an invitation to stay, shower, get close to their little slugma heater and collection of odds and ends furniture, and dry off.

This is a winner-take-all competition.

So Red takes all the grand prizes, all the questions, all the attention.

Which is fine by him anyway. It takes off the pressure of being on guard when Red interposes himself as a living shield. It allows him to calm the wounded animal instinct, and keep him from biting at the hands of the people attending him.

Revitalizing pills help keep the cough at bay, and offer a surge of reparative energy. Giovanni gets bandages for scrapes and cuts he didn't notice, and for some that he did. He gets a compress wrap for his knee and sprained ankle.

There's nothing they can give him for soreness other than a warm blanket for the duration of his stay, which is only as long as it takes Red to answer questions, receive accolades, and meet the curious Banette, DJ Nightshade.

He refuses to give up his pokemon to be healed, to the shock of others, explaining away the concern with, "I prefer to do it myself."

And he does. He administers herbs and potions to his team to distract himself and prepare for any trouble that may arise later.

Then, it's time to go.

It's still raining, much to his and Persian's dismay.

It sets his lungs to seize in spite of the medicine, and he and Persian cling on to Sorcha's Lapras, riding through the water until they can reach the bungalow.

There's a lot of concern for his health by those that live there. It's so immediate that its almost comical to him.

Look that bad, do I? he muses.

However bad he looks, though, he knows he sounds worse.

Red keeps people from approaching him. Giovanni just mutely, and numbly follows his lead, head pounding hard enough that he doesn't care to think for himself.

Warm showers later, warm clothes later, he feels more human and capable of doing things. His pupils are still blown, which is easy to see, and sensory input is sluggish but far too much to be reasonable. He directs Giovanni to do the same, pulling some finer food for Persian from storage. Sorcha makes him drink freshwater by the bottle, and keep a tab on his nausea, and he at some point regains the dexterity to brew tea for the other man they pulled out of the rain.

They hang their clothes on a rack over a heating vent. He offers to hang Giovanni’s too.

Red mixes honey, bitter powder, and lemon into the pu-erh tea, and pours three aromatic cubs of it. He manages to catch Sorcha’s forehead in a kiss in passing, Thanks. He’s still chewing down on the charm too hard and sweating too much, but at least the chest palpitations have calmed enough that he’s not choking and edging on vomiting.

‘I don’t know what this is,’ he signs at her. She thinks it’s some kind of bad reaction. It probably is.

‘Let me take care of him. I know him.’

She does after setting them up with enough safety precautions that they don’t end up calling an ambulance for either of them... probably, anyways.

Red hands her a cup of tea. The television’s on, showing reruns of Pompe’s Last Contests. The torrential rain muted on the roof is lulling. Red knocks on the door of the guest room they had set up, tea tray in his hand complete with a full array of honey-colored pill bottles (antibiotic packs for pokémon he’d never used). They also work on people who can’t use civil services.

Red waits, and enters, setting the tray down, teapot and cups. He takes a square box off the tray with a chansey label, offering it out and tapping the lid.

Disposable acupuncture needles. Centera Brand. He chews on the charm instead of grinding his teeth.

‘Drink the tea. It has bitter powder in it. Energy powder. Tastes bad. I think you have pneumonia.’

There’s also his prize box sitting on it.

‘Can help. Want me to?’

I’m sick of water. I’m literally sick from the water, Giovanni thinks to himself in the shower.

He’d handed his Gear off to Red when he asked for them after securing and oversized print t-shirt and pajama pants from the people that lived here. He wasn’t expecting to go somewhere other than the hotel, so he had nothing of his on him, save for Gear, Poryphone, pokeballs, and the room key.

Somewhere along the way, one of the crests he attached to the hood came off, along with one of the neon cords around his tail coat. That didn’t matter to him- all the accessories were meant to come off after this competition was over. He’s surprised that most of the more costume-y additions held on for so long.

The steam dislodges some of the sputum in his throat, and he ends up spitting it out down the drain, preferring not to swallow the bloody mess back down.

An errant memory returns, of one of his scientists, Cale, making a joke about how people were pokemon, and Giovanni was definitely a ground-type.

He may have had a point.

Drying off, he dons the borrowed clothes and crawls into the guest bed. It’s not long before he’s dozing off underneath the weight of the blankets, and Persian curling up next to him, satisfied with surviving the flood, the fight, and the new food.

He’s not sure how long he’s dozed off for when a gentle knocking startles him into a sharp inhale, and sitting up.

“... What is it?”

The only reply is the door opening. Red stands with a tray of supplies, and enters, setting them down on the side table. It’s tea and acupuncture needles, and Red’s prize box.

Red instructs him to take the tea, and warns him it’ll taste bad. But most medicine does.

He nods once at the guess of pneumonia, he’d heard the same from Saint earlier. Giovanni nods again when help is offered. He’s too tired to pretend to be proud, and wise enough to know he can’t risk being at the doctor’s.

The healthcare may have been free, but he couldn’t afford jeopardizing his own freedom.

He sits up further and takes the tea in hand. The aroma is already energizing- and he can tell it’s going to be bitter beyond acceptable measure. But he drinks it with only the slightest grimace. Truth be told, he’s had worse.

“Thanks...” he murmurs with a small cough, “...what are the needles for?”

Treatment.

He taps the mattress side and makes the motion of placing a needle, the charm still in his mouth and being ground to little chewed bits. Whoever spiked his drink knew exactly how strong it was, surely. It’s been a few hours with no signs of letting his body go. Red sets the box of needles down, popping the lid off.

He taps the pill bottle and leaving it on his nightstand. He twists a dial on the bedside lamp’s base and dim yellow light starts spilling out from the Skarmory-print lampshade. It clarifies the situation they find themselves in as people. Red’s eyes are tired, but he doesn’t particularly need them. He usually does this on his pokémon. He’s done it on people he’s met plenty of times. It helps.

So he offers it.

He taps the points, non invasive ones and then a more invasive one. Ear, wrists, two in each. Two in the joint of the thumb. Head (for stress and heart imbalances). Ankles, forehead. Between the first and second toe. Giovanni could keep as much modesty as he wanted with as much treatment as Red could reasonably give. It helps everything else work, and that was its purpose.

‘They don’t hurt. It helps the powder work.’

Red pulls up a chair to sit and wait for a yes or a no, opening his prize box and taking one of the two stones from it.

He offers it out to him, to take. It’s an blank megastone.

‘For the herb. You’re drinking it now.’

Red explains the acupuncture in simple gestures, laying out on his own body and pointing to where each one would go. Giovanni’s ambivalent about the acupuncture needles. He knows that they don’t hurt. It’s not like the kind of blood draws that he was subjected to as a kid…

He nods his acquiescence, and rests his hand on Persian. He’s too tired and ill to protest anything, and he realizes how lucky he is to be in this situation to begin with. They didn’t have to take him with them.

He didn’t have to save Red, either.

Or did I? he wonders, thinking back to the fortunate encounter with Red earlier with the flash flood.

No, he gave him the herb already, that should have cleared out where they stood-

He sighs, and rubs his eyes at the adjustment of the light. It’s not wise to think too much about who owed whom what, and where the balance of power was at this moment.

Just accept it.

When he refocuses and opens his eyes, Red’s holding out a stone in his hand. The shifting teal and cerulean hues of a megastone.

It’s unsynched. One of Red’s prizes from tonight.

He must have visibly worn confusion on his face, because Red clarifies:

‘For the herb. You’re drinking it now.’

The herb... the Revival Herb he found and harvested along the trail. The corners of his lips twitch upward with amusement.

It all comes full circle in the end, doesn’t it?

He had a feeling he should part with the herb to Red, earlier. This just... validated something- he’s not sure what.

“...Heh. Alright.”

He clears his throat and holds out his hand for the stone.

“Though, I don’t know why you’d give this to me at all, considering...”

Everything.

“Hm. I’m not going to question it.”

He thinks it’ll mean something later down the road. Why give two stones to one person, while the other person was there?

‘A good fight,’ is all he says, tapping the pillow and starting to take the little capsules for needles between his fingers. Red waits a moment, and holds Giovanni’s pulse point with two fingers, dragging his above it to feel the state of him. It’s like searching for a heartbeat of a different stroke, and a hum of energy under his fingers. Giovanni’s ill, and so that beat is erratic.

Red exhales past the charm, and taps his wrist once, putting one of the disposable capsules onto the point and pressing it just under the skin. There’s no real pinch or pain, just a needle releasing pressure to it. He traces the point back to his thumb, and places another needle. It’s very quick, and he’s quiet and as hands off as he can be. A needle in the top of his head, and a needle between his brows. Stress needles.

Giovanni’s still coughing. He puts two needles, one in the arch of each foot, and one between each first toe.

There’s a warning for that one. It’s a small pinch he taps him for.

It’s not a lot of needles in the end. He sets a few more for him, and doesn’t explain, nor hold an extended conversation. He pulls the blanket back over Giovanni, to face the ceiling for a while.

Red leaves the copper kettle with him.

‘Back to take them out in an hour. Can sleep. Tell Persian to get me if you’re in trouble.’

He shuts the light off before he leaves him to rest to the sound of rain hitting the roof.

The only thing he really feels is a light dab of pressure on his skin and tired.

He’s exhausted beyond all belief. He got caught up in major events twice in one day, participated in ill-advised activity, and battled to near-death…

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t thrilled by it all. But the consequence is the ache that sets in, and the acute awareness of pain from injuries that, frankly, should be worse.

Red sets about his work, and Giovanni lets him work, until it gets to a point where he can finally feel the effects of the Revival Herb kick in, and barrel through the metaphoric floodgates in his body.

Giovanni can now take an almost full breath.

He takes advantage of that discovery, and leans his head back to rest and open up his airway more. He feels as if he’s in between states- the hyper aware, and the drifting fatigue. They aren’t quite at war with one another, but rather work together in a strange, contradictory tandem.

Regardless, it does help. A lot.

Red leans him back, and helps adjust the heavy comforters over him, signing he’ll be back in an hour.

‘Tell Persian to get me if you’re in trouble.’

That gives him pause. It’s been... a long time since anyone’s said something like that. Anything like that.

“I will,” he murmurs, resting a hand on the top of her head. He drags his thumb across her jewel.

Her eyes gleam in the dim amber glow of the lamp. She acknowledges looking out for him. She had been for just about forty years now.

Red shuts off the light as he leaves. Persian inches closer to rest her head on Giovanni’s chest, rumbling soft purrs in an attempt to help speed up his recovery. Even in the darkness, there’s enough light ambience for him to see Persian staring at him with concern.

That was a close call, she seems to say.

“... We’ve been in closer calls,” he reassures, “but none quite like that, for sure.”

She nods and buries her head down, resuming her ritual, lulling Giovanni into rest with the tapping of rain and the low hum of purrs.

They’ve been through worse. They’ve always made it out even when others didn’t have that fortune. It makes him feel... He can’t even identify what it is, exactly, just that beneath the thought there’s something there, driving it.

I’ll figure out what it is, he assures himself, likely when it is no longer important.

He finally succumbs to rest.

#earth-master #long post #im not kidding it is long #saved rps

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xgoldenlatiasx · 1 month

Text

ohhh I am Brainstorming

ok ok so infodump ahead: Arcelia is the daughter of Archie (aaaand possibly Maxie? I haven’t figured out if I want hardenshipping to be divorced or if they get together after ORAS) and grew up a member of Team Aqua. For a while there she had full confidence in her father’s plan, but then Something happens (haven’t figured out what yet) and realizes oh wait this idea is shit actually what the fuck dad. unsure of what to really do to stop her dad yet, she runs away and ends up in Littleroot. there she stumbles into Professor Birch getting chased by a wild poochyena, saves him, etc. etc. etc.

not really sure what to do with this lost child who literally just came out of the bushes and saved him one day, Birch takes her in and lets her be an assistant like Brendan is. buuut she’s not super good at it. she gets kind of fed up and restless, especially when her dad is still out there planning to FLOOD THE FUCKIN WORLD, so as a way to try and help her Birch gives her Pebble the Mudkip and sends her out on a journey. thus begins her gym challenge and her mission to save her father from himself basically.

post-ORAS Archie has to serve time and stuff so Arcelia… doesn’t really know where to go from here. and she doesn’t wanna stay in Hoenn honestly cause she’s still kinda recovering from saving the world and fighting her own dad. SO Birch tries to help and sends her to Naranja Academy in Paldea, where hopefully she can find some semblance of a normal life and learn to just be a regular kid. it’s all well meaning but it doesn’t exactly work out bc Arcelia ends up being all by herself. again.

aaaand of course that’s where she meets a certain future-ground-type-elite-4-member! Arcelia is 16 at this point but she has to start off at freshman cause of yknow, never going to school before, and Rika is 17 and a junior. Arcelia struggles because 1. this is an extremely drastic change to literally anything she’s ever had in her life before 2. sure she’s only like a year older than the rest of the kids in her grade but she’s still significantly more mentally mature than a majority of them and thus has trouble connecting with them. honestly, even if she was allowed to start off as a sophomore, that prolly wouldn’t change cause kid has literally seen shit beyond any other high schooler’s comprehension.

Rika, not knowing anything about the whole saving the world thing but can easily see Arcelia’s struggling, approaches her and offers to help her with fitting in, keeping her grades up, and stuff like that. and the rest is history! the two become extremely close, but I don’t think Arcelia would fully open up about being the hero of the Hoenn crisis just yet- she’ll vaguely mention her strained relationship with her dad and make it come off as something much more simple than “my dad was an evil team leader who tried to drown the world”, but during their school years Rika never totally understands the full weight of it.

I think once Rika graduates they have a dramatic falling out of some kind. haven’t exactly figured out the details of it yet but during this falling out Arcelia has to go back to Hoenn- probably somethin to do with her dad or with Kyogre or whatever- whatever it is she can’t tell Rika about it, which only frustrates Rika even more and creates a further rift between them. eventually Arcelia just leaves with hardly a goodbye and neither of them really get any closure.

-of course until Arcelia comes back to Paldea several years later :]

#pokemon #pokemon oc #pokemon scarlet and violet #pkmn sv #pokemon omega ruby and alpha sapphire #pkmn oras #trainer arcelia #elite four rika #my art

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