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my friends are so mean and for what. they just don't like my taste in movies ig 💔

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✖ - a repressed memory

Rye hated the Glimwood Tangle.

It was dark, and long, and twisted, and cold and scary and it couldn’t fathom why some people would live out here. Willingly. Where the mushrooms could eat your life from the inside out and the imps could make you run around in circles. Where something lingered, just out of sight, and Rye could hear it.

It wanted a Fire type Pokémon. Desperately. Like the ones from Johto, the Bewear looking things with a collar of flames. He wanted to torch the place down and leave nothing but ash. It wanted to see the sky again, god, how long had it been? It wasn’t falling behind, was it?

It wanted its rival. Lark. It wanted someone, someone who knew what they were doing. They had made it through here before, hadn’t they? Why didn’t it go with them. Why didn’t it go with them.

It wanted to cry. It wanted to curl up and never think again. It wanted to feel the sun on its skin. It wanted, it wanted, it wanted, it-

-It tripped on a root.

Rye shrieked as his face collided with the bush. Brambles sliced his palms and dug into his cheeks, his fall startling something and sending it scattering.

He laid there for a while. Pinpricks of pain spiraling throughout his skin.

If he closed his eyes, he could pretend he wasn’t here anymore. He could say he was at the Center, drowning in covers and blankets, and that he could walk outside any time he wanted and see Motostoke, or Stow-on-Side, or Hulbury, or anywhere else.

…

Something brushed against Rye’s neck.

It lurched back. It collapsed back onto the path, heart pounding in its throat and strangling it as its eyes readjusted to the florescent pinks and greens of the Tangle.

…

It was just a leaf, Rye reasoned.

That was all it was.

He sighed. He got to his feet again, ignoring how shaky his knees were or how it hurt to rest his hands on them. He breathed, in and out, feeling the phlegm coagulating in his throat.

He was okay. He was fine. He would be fine, too.

Service was notoriously spotty in the Tangle, but it wasn’t completely dead. There were patches, here and there. Places Rye could call for help, if he really needed it.

But he needed to get to Ballonlea on his own. Lark wouldn’t let him hear the end of it otherwise. So he would hold out. Even if he had run out of healing supplies about an hour ago and couldn’t find his snacks.

He hacked out a lung and wiped the spit from his mouth. He had to keep moving. The sooner he got to Ballonlea, the sooner he could heal his team, and Bubbles wouldn’t have to shake off the paralysis by himself, and Arrow could get his wing checked out.

He just. Didn’t. Know. Where he was going.

…

He didn’t.

Rye could barely make his hands out in front of him. It couldn’t see where the path ended, where it began, where it went. Strange things danced in the shadows of those stupid glowing mushrooms, they called and shouted to one another, and it was dark and cold and he was tired.

…

A shiver ran down his spine.

It wouldn’t cry. It was too old for that.

Follow the path. Doesn’t matter where it leads. That’s better than doing nothing.

It must’ve looked pathetic. One misstep away from a breakdown. His throat stung as he gulped.

Take a step forward. Get moving. Your team’s counting on you. if lark saw you like this he would laugh. get moving. move. move

move

Rye looked up.

A felted claw rested on his shoulder.

He screamed as a spike of fear and nausea jammed into his chest and he felt his eyes roll back

and

it all

went da

r

k

.

“A Hatterene?”

“Mhm. Have I not shown you her yet? Her name’s Misty.”

“I see…she’s quite cute!”

“Never seen someone call her cute, heh. …Do they have them in Paldea?”

“Ah, I think? I haven’t interacted with one myself, however.”

“Well. Now you have.”

“I guess so!”

“…”

“Are those rumors about…emotions, and stuff. Are they true?”

“Eeh. Not really. Not with Misty, at least. She doesn’t get violent. She probably senses stuff, though. I don’t know. I’m not her.”

“I see…How’d you meet her, if you don’t mind me asking?”

…

Rye chuckled.

“Funny! I don’t remember.”

[loaded-dice-enjoyer]

( @mayetaya )

psst, hey

what has 13 hearts, but no other organs?

helloooo!

ohhhhhh i think i know this one! it's a deck of cards?? 💥

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♬ - a friend/best friend memory

i am going to send like 3 of these skrelp. good luck

“…Where’d you get that one?”

Stow-on-Side was a nice town. A little dry and vertical, sure, but it was nothing Rye couldn’t handle. The market was nice, too- plenty of wares and goods at an unaffordable price. They were nice to look at, though. So it was okay. That wasn't what Rye was focused on, though. Not right now.

He and Lark were tucked off to the side of the main plaza, away from the larger parts of the crowd. If Rye strained his neck, he could see the monument and Gym farther ahead. Monument. He wanted to visit that later.

Lark glanced over at Rye and grinned. “What d’you think? Jealous?”

The Pokémon beside them sneezed. It didn’t look…right. Bulky blue body with toothpick arms and legs. It shivered underneath the cheery, warm sun. People gave it strange looks as they passed.

Rye shifted uncomfortably. “It looks sick.”

“Oh, it’s fine! The scientist said it was normal.” Lark patted the base of its neck. The Pokémon shuddered. “They’re probably just overwhelmed! I would be if I was revived after millions of years of lying in the dirt. We just gotta give them time.”

Rye didn’t say anything. It rubbed the Pokeball on its belt. Something was wrong here- he could feel it. He was just too tired to figure it out.

“To answer your question- A scientist on Route 9 revived them for me! I just gave her a couple fossils, and…” Lark made an explosion motion with his hands. “Poof! They called them a...uh...Arctozolt!”

“Fossils? Plural?” Rye echoed, narrowing his eyes. The dried sleep smeared around them cracked. “…Is it one of those chimera ones?”

“Hm?”

“The- the chimera fossil Pokémon. Mr. Grayson was talkin’ about ‘em. Didn’t know they were still around…”

“Well. They aren’t. They went extinct like, 20 million years ago or something.”

“No, no, that’s the thing. They aren’t real Pokémon. They’re just mashups of a bunch of fossils.” Rye pointed at the beast. “That guy isn’t a real prehistoric Pokémon.”

Lark gasped. He went to wrap his arms around the Pokémon, but it was evidently too cold for him. Lark settled with setting them on his hips.

“Excuse me! How dare you! Pudding is totally a real fossil! They’re my adorable little guy that I dug up from the ground myself!”

“'M not saying you didn't. It's just...not a complete fossil." Rye shouldn't have picked a fight if it was too tired to actually reply. It rubbed the bags under its eyes and yawned.

“Nuh-uh! Look at them! Don't they look prehistoric? Ancient? Not from this time?”

“…They look cold.”

“Hmph! Any-way. They’re going to help me win the Badge here, you know. So you better warm up to them! Hehe.”

Oh. Right. Rye’s gaze drifted over the hill at the Gym in the distance. It should probably go register there.

…What type was it?

Fighting, by the look of it.

Hm. Mm. Arrow, then.

“I hear they changed the Gym Test,” Lark offered, noticing Rye’s staring. “It’s not those teacup pinball mazes, thank Arc.”

Bummer. Those looked fun. “Thank Arc, yeah. What’s it now?”

“I don’t know! I’ll tell you tomorrow, though.”

“Oh. That’s when your Test is scheduled?”

“And match! You’re going to be watching, right?” Lark leaned forward and smiled.

Rye mustered up the energy to smile back. Its lips split.

“Only if you watch my match,” it recited.

“It’s a deal.” Lark’s eyes sparkled.

…The Arctozolt sneezed again. Lark rushed to its side.

Rye closed his eyes.

…

Lark cared for their Pokémon. They really did. Even if he couldn’t see the forest through the trees sometimes.

…

That night, Rye shoved the fossils he had picked up months ago deep into his bag.

He didn’t think about them again.

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↕ - a memory that may or may not have happened

The hotel room was quiet.

Rye supposed it was a small mercy. No noise. No eager reporters shoving microphones in his face. No one to pick and prod at him.

Though, they probably wouldn't. He wasn’t the famous one anymore, was he? No longer was he the ‘kid with potential’. He wasn’t one of the kids who could rival the Champion anymore.

Rye was tired.

Its lips were dry and split. Its eyes were heavy with sleep. Its chest ached with every breath, the wound snagging against its shirt. Its cheek was raw and red, tears festering in its eyes as it leaned on the couch’s armrest, listening to something go on and on and on and on-

Something?

Someone. Someone.

Lark. Right. right. Fourth place finalist Lark.

...

“You’re tired, aren’t you?” they asked. “When’s the last time you slept?”

Rye didn’t respond. It wasn’t a kid. It wouldn’t break down in tears over something so stupid.

“…Cheer up, Lucky. You’ll get it next time.”

“…Won’t be a next time.” Rye's tongue felt swollen.

“Oh! Hm. I guess you’re right.” Lark hopped onto the bed next to it. “Oh well. You can’t win them all, can you?”

You really couldn’t. Rye gripped the seat cushion and tried not to dry heave.

It should’ve been happy. It should’ve been happy that Lark got so far. Lark was its friend. Rival. Lark wanted this. Rye wanted it too.

“But who cares? Who cares if you didn’t make it to the tournament? Lark went on, kicking his feet and smiling. It barely reached his eyes. “You’re still number one in my heart!”

Rye bit his lip.

“But you could’ve gone far, I bet. If you didn’t drop out. That was ‘cause….what, you lost to me?” Lark clicked his tongue. “Hm.”

If Rye tried to speak now, his voice would crack.

“It wasn’t even an official match, Arc. It was a training one. Right. Mm…” Lark looked up at him. His smile fell. “Mr. Grayson won’t be happy with that, would he?”

Oh. Right. Right.

“He was probably watching the telly, right? Waiting for you to show up on that screen. But you never did. Wonder how that made him feel.”

Nothing, probably.

Some fireworks went off outside. Faint blue and red light splashed across the hotel’s carpet.

"You won't be able to repay him now...sad!" Lark hummed. "What did you promise him, again?"

Rye blinked. Tears sprung to his eyes.

“I mean, you could probably find work somewhere. Maybe as an Ace Trainer. Ooh! Or one of those Battle Tower guys.” Lark snapped their fingers. “Doesn’t that sound fun? Standing in a tower for the rest of your life? Battling people over and over?”

Rye didn’t reply. How could he? Lark was right.

…Lark sighed.

“Whatever, man. You brought this on yourself, you know. No use in pouting over it.”

He was right.

There wasn’t.

Even if Rye was so close.

Even if he was so close, and fumbled it right at the end.

No use in crying over something you did to yourself.

Someone shook its shoulder.

Rye yelped, eyes snapping open and sitting up. A jolt a pain shot through its stomach.

“Woah! Hey, hey. It’s just me.”

Just Lark. Lark.

Lark?

Rye looked over at him. He was smiling, holding up some plastic bag.

His rival.

Fourth place.

“Got some food from the store! You like that grape soda, right?” they went on, pulling out a bottle and holding it out. “Got some snacks, too. Was thinking of watching a movie tonight- you wanna do that?”

Rye glanced at the bed. Was…

…

“…Sure,” it replied with a practiced smile. “Surprised you’re so nonchalant about all this.”

Lark shrugged. “What am I supposed to do?”

Rye shrugged in turn. “Celebrate your victory?”

“Lucky. Fourth place isn’t really celebration-worthy.”

“Eeh. Sure.”

“...Whatever. I’m gonna find the remote.”

Rye opened the bottle as Lark turned around. He took a sip. He didn't really like this flavor anymore. He watched Lark.

Watched them shrug off a title it would've killed to have. A title it could've had.

He tilted his head back and felt nothing at all.

Absolutely, utterly,

nothing.

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✌ - a memory of a relative

[There aren't any.]

[They wished there was, though.]

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Memory Meme

Past experiences help shape who we are currently, how we see the world. Send in a symbol and I’ll write a drabble of one of my muse’s memories. 

–

❥ - a childhood memory

♣ - a fading memory

✂ - a vivid memory

✖ - a repressed memory

✈ - an eye-opening memory

✤ - a memory that involves romance/love

☤ - a memory of death/loss

✍ - a memory of their mother

☽ - a memory of their father

♘ - a memory of their sibling(s)

✌ - a memory of a relative

↕ - a memory that may or may not have happened

♚ - a memory of something paranormal

✓ - a sexual memory

♬ - a friend/best friend memory

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well. it's happened. i, ryder smith, have become a third wheel. in my OWN DORM no less 💔

anyway. have i talked about my corviknight on here yet. i should do that more often

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oh. uh. that doesn't sound great. sorry bout that.

play world of horror

???? Rye is this you

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uh. hm. yeah, that sounds. intense. huh.

...did it all manage to work out, at least?

play world of horror

???? Rye is this you

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...oh, yeah. that's cool. they're like. procedurally generated games or something. rouge-likes, i mean. definitely not everyone's cup of tea.

...sorry, goizo situation?

play world of horror

???? Rye is this you

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oh it's a horror game! as the name suggests lmao. it's kinda like a rouge-like based off this one horror manga artist's work? definitely p spooky/unsettling but a fun game all in all! 🔥

play world of horror

???? Rye is this you

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i would cry 🔥

play world of horror

???? Rye is this you

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whhhhaaaaaaat. nuh uh. they totalllllly have a point tho 👀

u should

play world of horror

???? Rye is this you

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Show us thr snom

whwhwhwha who told u that

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i realize i phrased this weirdly but in my defense. this is allllllll hypothetical. 💥🎉🎉🎉💪🎉🎉 ignore the arm that's not supposed to be there

hey gang purely hypothetical here but what do you do if someone. finds out. you mightve. skewed some facts abt where u live. and now they're trying to meet up. and you gotta tell them. u don't live there. 💥💥💥💥

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You own up to your mistake, that's what.

aaaahhhh okay okay

but. hypothetically. what if i didn't want to do that. is there any other way.