#Day 1 - Charmander

[grim-grimmsnarl]

Blockbuster Pokemon Snap kiosk cards (1999)

In 1999, when Pokemon Snap was first released, the game had a short lived collaboration with Blockbuster Video. You could take a Pokemon kiosk card from the store, upload your game data to it, and then use their kiosk to turn your pictures into stickers. (As seen on the back of the final card)

(These images were scanned and cleaned up by me)

[the-little-robyn]

Happy pokemon day

[cupcakedex]

Valentine’s Day edible Pokemon chocolate boxes! 🍫

This is our second year making 100% edible gifts for Valentine’s, and I love how cute they are! We made these live on Twitch where we stream Pokemon baking every Sunday. It’s so cool to get to represent both Kanto and Sinnoh here!

[heropartnerweek]

PMD Hero and Partner Day 1: Combat

June 4 Combat

Hi everyone so I’ll be taking part in Pokemon Mystery Dungeon Hero and Partner Week using my teams that I have used/created over the course of my time in playing the game series. Today is day one that you choose between cooking, combat, and getting lost. So I decided on combat this will be with Pokemon Rescue Team Red/Blue/DX era and my team Team Courage with Hero Rosethorn the Cubone and her partner Chara the Charmander who are undergoing battle training with team ACT after just evolving.

“Bone Club!”

“Teleport!” Rosethorn gasped as Alakazam disappeared from sight as she landed quickly looking around but too late sensing the presence behind her.

“Shoot-!”

“Psychic!” Alakazam yelled, lifting Rosethorn in the air before tossing her to the ground, making her cry out. The human turned now Marowak winced as she got up her red eyes staring at Alakazam as she held her bone tightly.

“You have to be more aware of your surroundings Rosethorn, use the new senses you’ve obtained by evolving.” Alakazam instructed.

“Easier said than done you know!” Rosethorn snapped back with a grunt. “I’ve lived as a pokemon for practically a year. You’d think I’d be used to this by now.”

“That was back when you were a Cubone but now you are a Marowak so naturally your techniques and strengths will be different than before.” Alakazam pointed out. “Remember, take advantage of your weapon. Anything your opponent will least expect.”

“Alright then.” She huffed, readying herself. “Now Bonemerang!”

Rosethorn tossed her bone as it spun like a boomerang but Alakazam quickly stopped it with Psychic.

“You’ll need to do better than that in order to-”

“Ice Beam!” Alakazam yelped to be then hit by the blue beam losing his psychic grip on the bone causing the momentum of the power to hit him as well before it flew back to Rosethorn for her to catch it with a smirk.

“Like that?” She asked.

“H-Heh yes something like that.” He admitted with a small smile. She chuckled before looking up watching Chara fly swiftly with Charizard getting used to her new wings by the guidance of the older Charizard.

“Hey I wanna thank you.” Rosethorn suddenly said, making Alakazam look up.

“Oh?” He asked.

“Yeah for accepting our request to help us train like this.” She replied. “No doubt you guys must’ve been busy yet you took the time to help us train and get used to our evolutions. We appreciate that.”

He looked surprised and he couldn’t help but take in the Marowak before him that once was in fact a human girl. Compared to ordinary Marowaks, Rosethorn retained the rose red eyes she had as a Cubone and was actually a tad thinner than others of the species he summarized were traits for when she was a human. Yet despite that she took being a pokemon like a goldeen to water fighting and combat as if she was a pokemon her whole life. Really her issue was a simple one that every pokemon goes through when they first evolve. He smiled as he spun his spoons.

“Given all you and your team have done for us all this was the least we could do.” He replied. “Now come at me.”

“Heh you asked for it!” She grinned, running forward. “Bone Club!”

She jumped and was about to whack him with her bone but he held up his spoons. 

“Psychic!” He yelled, using his powers to stop her. “Nice try but you should know-”

“Thunder Punch!” Alakazam cried out as he was slugged by an electric punch and sent flying, his psychic power released as Rosethorn dropped to the ground on her feet with a smile.

“You were saying?” She asked with a grin. He grunted sitting up before seeing a paw in front of him making him look up at her as she smiled and he smiled back taking her paw. Truly he was eternally grateful for this once human now pokemon and honored to call her a friend.

[soft-serve-soymilk]

Thoughts for the day: I listened to a video playlist titled ‘Sad Video Game Music to make you cry’ by omnistwo. Good mix, would recommend. Eventually though, I listened to don’t ever forget and thus, in my everlasting curiosity about the origins of said piece, came to know too much about pmd: explorers of time/darkness/sky. And I’ve come to the conclusion, reading the guides on gamefaqs, that Dism would score highly for the docile/timid/lonely traits in the personality quiz— so he’d likely be reincarnated into a little cyndaquil* :) So it’s little Dism the cyndaquil and his pikachu partner ^^

But knowing Dism, this game would probably be the closest experience he has to friendship during those 10 years of kidnapping. And combined with the tearjerker ending of that game, the pikachu plush he totes around as a kid is maybe, y’know, his way to cling to that semblance of companionship. Heartbreaking.

Other thoughts I also had about my son that are happier also include him demonstrating to Inigo how to cook so that he can nourish his body ^^ Because Dism is the No.1 Wonder Chef (heh) of YHNN and I think he should take some pride in his cooking abilities :) And also provided Cynthia has played one (1) other tales game (unlikely. her graces obsession is too strong) Dism might end up dressed as said wonder chef during the scenario. Average flower five interaction, honestly. Weirdos <3 (affectionate)

The second thought was brought to you by me actually nourishing myself instead of toddling biscuits to my room at 10pm because I forgot to eat dinner again. Look at my wonderful creation:

[ratcore-hovel]

[beansyndrome]

Pokemon of the days: #1 Bulbasaur, #4 Charmander, and #7 Squirtle

As per request of tumblr user @ruzmuttz

[meroppi]

✧ —Rating 1 Pokemon every day because I'm a silly little goose

#0004 - Charmander

Lord whatever I'm going to say people will get mad.

I've always somewhat disliked the entire Charmander evolution line because I've never really bonded with it. I usually used Flareon or Ninetails as my fire Pokemon in my Blue run so I never chose him as a starter. (And I personally prefer the other dragon-like Pokemon a lot more)

BUT he's still kinda adorable even though he's shaped like a dick. His bald head kinda scares me but he's despite that very friend shaped.

And to sprinkle in yet another personal story, my dad once gifted me this Charmander card.

Not an actual image cause I'm too lazy to get up and make a photo. I really cherish this card (and my dad) so I guess I'm to some extent somewhat biased.

✧ —Final Rating

Cuteness: ❤️❤️❤️♡♡

Edibleness: ❤️❤️ ♡♡♡ (bro's shaped like a dick)

Biasedness:❤️♡♡♡♡

Overall a 6.6, he has the right to exist

[flufflefleury]

I am going to get this freaking PINK CROCODILE-

[fallloverfic]

2024 April Fool's Day art for My S-Class Hunters by 비완

The manhwa artist for My S-Class Hunters made some April Fool's Day art: "This year's April Fool's Day, the S-Class turned back time too much." The head of storyboarding for the manhwa, serikachan, explained the different animal choices in this thread:

Machine English translation: "Have a good April Fool's Day! This year's concept is around the N years of the characters, but if I vaguely turn back time, it seems like there will be a time before the regression or a future where only [Yoojin] becomes a grandfather, and that was so sad that I turned it around too much [dinosaur emoji] I'm going to follow the thread of the reason why I matched each dinosaur.

[Sung Hyunje] is the world's strongest character at the time of the story, so he naturally became a Tyrannosaurus. I wonder if only Jo Gu can swing the chain with his front paw… Me: How many claws did the Tyranno have? Who gets angry if you get confused? Biwan: I need to put three conditions on Yujin, so I need three fingers. ??? : Oh shit!!! This is an Allosaurus!!!

Yoohyun is Dimetrodon. Dimetrodon looks like a dinosaur, but it is not actually a dinosaur. It often appears as a fire attribute in other media (Hellfire Dimetrodon in WoW too…), so I thought it would be the best fit. At first I thought it was Charmander, but I couldn't tell it apart from Irene. [laughing face emoji]

Yerim was torn between Spinosaurus, which is very strong and lived a semi-aquatic life, and Plesiosaurus, a plesiosaur, but went with the latter for a more intuitive visual.

In many works, Spinosaurus and Tyrannosaurus are often paired 1:1, so I thought about having Director Song, who is currently fighting [Hyunje] in the free game, take on the role of Spinosaurus, but I needed a dinosaur that would give a presence in the distance, so I decided on Brachiosaurus. It is done. Chew the lettuce well and enjoy the huge brachio song director…

Hyuna is a triceratops. The horns remind me of a giant spear, and while I was looking for information, I saw several Triceratops taking up a defense position, and it really suited Hyuna's situation in the early stages of her awakening. It had three horns and somehow even raised a spear with its front paws, making it an even more powerful and kingly aceratops.

Noah chose Pteranodon, a representative pterosaur, and Riet chose Deinosuchus, which is said to eat dinosaurs. It looked so natural that it seemed like it had been like this from the beginning… I'll be happy if you enjoyed it! I give my love to Biwan, who even drew dinosaurs under a tight deadline. [face holding back tears emoji]"

[ultimatepokemontournament]

Ultimate Pokemon Tournament!

Generation 1 - Rematch Round 1 - Match 1

★ This poll is part of a project to determine Tumblr's favorite Pokemon! ★

Our Contestants:

This is a rematch round! The winner of this poll will move on to Generation 1 Round 2.

★ Follow if you want to see new polls as they're made! ★ ★ Go here for more info about the project! ★ ★ Consider reblogging so that others can vote too! ★ ★ Don't forget to have fun, be kind, and have a wonderful day! ★

[kamabokobun]

What is your favorite starter pokémon in each generation?

Ooh! Fun! I’ll try to limit this to first stages

Gen 1: ok I have beef with the gen 1 starters buuut if I had to choose a favorite. Charmander (it’s what I liked as a kid)

Gen 2: cyndaquil. Can’t go wrong with that guy

Gen 3: torchic!! blaziken is my goat 🙏

Gen 4: piplup. It’s ok

Gen 5: snivy! No notes. It’s cute 👍

Gen 6: chespin!! It also has one of the best shiny color palettes ever

Gen 7: genuinely a very hard choice. But I gotta say rowlet. However all 3 (especially the final evos) are peak starter designs (definitely not biased)(I love sun and moon)

Gen 8: y’know, I was a really big scorbunny fan when swsh came out (it’s the reason I have “bun” in my username) but.. idk I like sobble a tad more these days.

Gen 9: quaxly :) it’s a duck! It’s cute!

[i-write-boop-spoops]

Please do halloween headcanons about Leon and Steven ^^

i am well aware that it is 1. past halloween and 2. ages since i last posted but i have been sick (i wasn’t even able to celebrate halloween ☹) and i am a spoopy bitch 365 days a year. plus it’s my blog goshdarnit!

anyways here’s some fun hcs! thanks anon!

Leon

Him and Sonia sed to bring Hop trick-or-treating around Postwick and Wedgehurst when they were younger

Nowadays Halloween is either a cosy affair at home or a party at a friend’s

Pro couple’s costumes HOWEVER you’ll have to organize it because he’s so busy

Partial to a slutty costume on you obvs, but also himself (AKA tits out!)

But not too slutty because he still has a family friendly image to uphold

Not that he’s really posting pictures from a party to his heavily curated social media

If you’re just staying at home, he probably won’t dress up (but will if you ask)

You’ll probably just snuggle up and eat sweets and watch spooky (but not really scary) movies

There aren’t really any children in his building so he doesn’t get many knocks from adorable kiddos on his door

BUT when you move somewhere more cosy and family-friendly

You KNOW it’s a full size chocolate bar house

Leon has a great time handing out sweets to the kids and complimenting their little costumes

Some of them dress up as him and his heart melts

Speaking of children

If you guys have kids you can bet your ass you’re doing a family costume!

Baby’s first Halloween is him in a Charizard onesie, you in a Charmeleon one and baby in a Charmander one

He will continue doing family costumes, even when you have moody teenagers who are "too cool" to dress up

Steven

Halloween wasn’t too much of a thing in his house growing up

But as an adult, he enjoys it a fair bit

He’s not really into the spooky/scary side of it, just likes the fun and cosy vibes (and all the chocolate)

Wallace probably throws an extravagant Halloween party every year, and you and Steven are definitely invited (dressing up is a MUST)

Steven’s Halloween costumes are quite elegant

And yes, he is very pro couple’s costumes too!

They typically involve Steven in a suit (old habits die hard lol)

You’ve been detectives, Indiana Jones style adventurers, a royal couple, space explorers, etc.

The scariest (and naturally, sexiest) costume was when you two went as classic, Victorian-era vampires

One year you went as your birthstones (aka just regular outfits in that colour, decorated with fake gems with matching makeup) and nobody had any idea what you were supposed to be and Steven was VERY aka mildly upset

Also a full size chocolate bar house

Mossdeep isn’t big, so you only get a couple trick-or-treaters every year

It’s good though, Steven is happy to chat with the little ones and the little ones are excited that the champion is chatting to them and giving them big ol’ sweeties

If you have kids, he will gladly bring them trick or treating

And take photos of the kiddos in their cute little outfits

HOWEVER he won’t dress up for it lol

One of your kids dressed up as geode four years in a row and Steven was never happier

[bytesizedshorts]

A Day in the Life of Each Gen 1 Starter — Which was your favorite, Bulbasaur, Charmander, or Squirtle?

[defire]

Back to the Dregs Part 10

Part 1 Next

Content: flashback to child abuse, cutting, escape attempt, forced drug use

"Hold still, Michael." Mr. Huer gripped the base of his head so tightly he could feel his heartbeat around the fingers. "Now tell me what you did."

"I... made a friend?" Michael's fifteen-year-old voice was timid and shaky.

Mr. Huer's response was to bang his head against the wall of the telephone booth.

"No." He said. "Try again."

Michael's ears rang with the harshness of the impact.

"I... talked to someone outside the family?"

"You did more than that."

Michael heard the click of a knife being opened behind him.

"Please, sir, please, I don't know what I did," He stammered. "Just talk to me, sir, I'll be better, I promise."

The sharp metal pressed against the nape of his neck.

Michael stared through the blurry glass, hoping against hope that someone would come into the street and stop Mr. Huer. But there was a Huer "uncle" watching that street.

"You talked." Mr. Huer growled. The knife split his skin open and Michael hissed in pain, pushing against the glass. "What did you tell her about us?"

"Nothing, sir, I--ah!" Michael winced as the knife dragged and twisted at the nape of his neck, bringing tears to his eyes.

"You're only making this worse for yourself."

"Sir, please, promise me you won't kill me." Michael begged. His stomachalways turned at how easily he'd betrayed himself that day.

Point still at his neck, Mr. Huer simply waited.

Maybe if he told him, it would stop.

Blood trickled and itched down his neck and back, and the wound stretched a little when he spoke.

"I just... All I said was that I was scared of you sometimes."

Mr. Huer inhaled and Michael braced himself against the glass.

"Michael?" He said into the boy's ear. "You're not scared of me. Why did you lie to her?"

A shiver ran down Michael's spine at that low, gravelly tone.

"But I wasn't--" Michael broke off into a cry as the knife cut him again and he clenched his teeth hard.

"I lied, because I..."

"You wanted to leave the family?"

Michael trembled.

"I would never want to leave this family, sir." He whispered. "It's good. You're a good man. I guess I just..."

Slice.

"Aah!" Michael's breath frosted the window a little as he cried. "Please sir, I'm sorry," he sobbed.

Slice.

"Never forget whose property you are, son. I never want you to forget that you have a family."

After the wounds becaem scars, Michael traced them with his finger, and his eyes widened. They weren't just mindless cuts.

They were the initials, J.H.

"It's nothing." Michael told Chris, and adjusted his ponytail to cover it more completely.

[Note: I don't smoke so if this is inaccurate, please let me know because I'd like to be accurate.]

The pain was subtle by the time Chris left, bearable as long as Michael didn't move a muscle.

That was hard to do when Jordie blustered in, clomping up to the bed and taking Michael by the wrist.

"That was some fucking display," Jordie maneuvered the cuff around Michael's wrist.

Michael looked away to wince as it clamped down.

"Ey." Jordie slapped the bruised side of his face with a backhand. "Ey, look at me when I'm talking to you!"

Michael hunched his shoulders and looked cautiously at Jordie.

"You cried like a little bitch!" Jordie said. "You miss wittle charmander, don't you."

Michael shook his head.

"What?" Jordie laughed. "Embarrassed of your 'ashtray' arms?"

Michael lurched forward and jumped out of bed toward Jordie, who caught his other wrist, and seeing Michael's flinch, squeezed it hard.

"Ugh--" Michael cringed, trying to keep his weight off his shot leg, realizing how stupid and worthless he looked.

I have my shirt on, He reminded himself.

"Oh, what's this?" Jordie yanked at the cuff of the oversized shirt he'd been given, revealing a dozen or so scars marking up his arm there.

"Oh, it's missing one. That needs to be remedied. There's this, empty space," He was jerking Michael's arm in response to his struggles, touching the burning marks.

Fighting didn't work with Jordie. What had worked? Michael thought carefully. Yes.

He lowered his head and stopped struggling, masking his enraged heavy breaths with a pretense of fear. The shame was real.

"That's right." Jordie said. "Now climb into bed like a good little kid while I light up."

Michael's hard work exploded in an instant.

"I'm not a kid." He snapped. "Stop calling me that!"

The last word was muffled by Jordie's hand over his mouth and the other hand on his balls. When he reached to stop him, Jordie twitched his hand tighter.

"Uh-uh-uh." He said. "Or I crush the grapes."

Michael ground his teeth and put his hand on the bed. Jordie's thick fingers pressed just tight enough to hurt.

"Sit." Jordie said.

Michael did very slowly, trying to hide all of his rage under a stony poker face. But he never was a good actor.

"Look at you," Jordie said. "All tragically fucked up and angry. You and your collection of scars, each with their own moment of agony. I would now." He added. "The difference is, I was being abused. I have no shame about it. You... that's just who you are."

Maybe once Michael would've felt that, and taken it in. But he'd had years of therapy.

The words now finally said out loud--the exact words he'd been thinking for years--now sounded crazy.

Michael felt a chuckle start deep iin his chest as he slowly looked up at Jordie.

"Who I am?" He siad. "Do I actually look like a literal ashtray to you?"

Jordie considered a moment, looking at Michael's body.

"No," He said. "You look more like a punching bag."

He crushed in and Michael gasped, clutching reflexively at Jordie's hand as if to tear it away from his crotch.

"Jordie don't." He wheezed, looking up at him pleadingly.

Jordie let go, grabbed his left wrist, and fished around in his pocket for a smoke.

Michael's heart started to pound and tighten as Jordie backed up, lit the cigarette, and watched as if he expected Michael to squirm.

"Camel greens, huh." Michael said softly.

Jordie exhaled slowly, raising his eyebrows at Michael.

"I prefer the red." Michael breathed in deep, feeling a mixture of anxiety and bliss at the familiar smell.

"You smoke?" Jordie's eyebrows raised a little higher.

"Well..." Michael shrugged. "I've been clean for two years."

Jordie laughed, looking at the ceiling.

"Clean?" He said. "We'll have to fix that."

Michael licked his lips. He wanted one. Very much.

"Here." Jordie tumbled one out for him. "Come on. No such thing as quitting. You want it or not?"

No, Michael thought. I've been clean for two years, and I am not going to ruin that just because I--

He had looked up resolutely into Jordie's face, ready to refuse, but when he saw Jordie's expression, he clenched his teeth and hesitated. There was a dangerous calm glitter in his eyes.

"Go ahead." Jordie shook it a little, not smiling. "Take one."

Michael's breath shook on the way out.

"...Thank you." He said. He took the cigarette and let Jordie light it for him.

The taste was bitter, familiar, and slightly disappointing. And then his eyes closed as he savored that calm euphoria. For a moment he wondered why he'd ever quit.

Because COPD, you fucking idiot. His mind responded.

A bit of nausea came up in his gut. Maybe it was because he hadn't eaten, not to mention the injuries.

He held the cigarette in his fingers, watching two years' work vaporize in his hand.

It was a bad day.

And Jordie was laughing a little.

"You should see your face," He chuckled. "It's like a gave you your pet's eyeballs or something."

Chills ran over Michael's arms again as he watched Jordie's own cigarette dwindling up toward the filter.

The two of them smoked quietly for a minute. It was almost a nice, conversational silence, with the edge of dread that always came when Michael watched someone else smoking.

Michael watched Jordie draw another puff, and his own fingers trembled as he saw how close Jordie's coal was to the filter.

Jordie smirked.

"So, which are you, an ashtray or a punching bag?"

Michael grimaced, putting his own cigarette out on the bedframe and tossing it away. Clearly he had no good option here.

Another beating would cause damage his body may not be able to handle. If his internals were already damaged, this could make htat damage irreversible.

But... His mind raced him through the process of the cigarette pressing into his skin and the pain, but most of all, the shame of every other time being reinforced right now, after all that work, after all that therapy...

"I provide the shirt on your back," Mr. Huer had said. "I wouldn't want to have to take it, and let the world know what you are. I'd rather protect you from that, son. Come here, roll up your sleeve."

Michael, every time, had told himself it wasn't that bad, it was just a cigarette, at least he wasn't putting out his cigar on him again. He'd tug up his sleeve and turn away his face as he acted as his father's "ashtray".

"I don't want you to forget your place in this family." Mr. Huer had said.

Michael clenched his teeth and raised his eyes from the glowing cigarette to Jordie's expectant smirk.

He couldn't take another beating.

He swallowed, eyes on his lap, and held out his wrist.

Jordie grabbed his hand to keep him from flinching away. Michael grunted through his teeth as the coal pressed into his skin with a little hiss, and he tugged at his arm, groaning through his teeth. His hand shook in Jordie's grasp.

"Who's my little ashtray?" Jordie grinned.

Michael gave one last yank and got his arm back, covered the wound loosely with his sleeve, and then gripped the wrist just below it and huddled over it.

"It's gonna be fun having you around." Jordie said, standing up.

"Tasteless." Michael hissed.

"Wait till you see my next one." Jordie scoffed, and left.

It had been five horrible days. It wasn't that Jordie bothered him that much or that Chris kept freaking him out--he would've preferred that.

He'd entertained himself to disgust.

He'd bitten his nails down till they bled, three times. He'd bitten the skin off from around the nails. He'd picked off every piece of lint from the blanket. He'd spent three hours pretending the toilet in the corner was a shrine to the toilet paper god. And speaking of that, he'd run out of the hand sanitizer Chris had given him by trying to clean every stain off his bed frame and mattress. He was going out of his mind.

He was hardly sleeping, in constant increasing pain from not being able to stretch and exercise, and he'd started hearing voices. Like Morgan's voice, instead of just mouthing the word, actually saying, "Sorry, Michael."

The charmanders on his pj bottoms had started talking to each other as well.

By the time Chris came in with his dinner on the fourth day, he was literally in tears begging him to let him out to see the others.

"But Jordie's out there, man." Chris had said. "You don't want to go out there."

"I have ADHD, man, this is killing me, please," Michael had begged, almost in tears.

Chris' eyes had narrowed with suspicion--as if he didn't believe that someone could go insane with boredom--and had left with a muttered apology.

And the whole time, there were increasing sounds of construction and people outside.

It was on the fifth day that Michael, dissociating as he stared at a hole on the ceiling that looked like a spider if he blurred his vision a little, heard the door open and vaguely felt someone walk in.

"...Hey..." He said his programmed response.

And then a punch hit him.

"Ghuh--" He gasped, coming back to the present. "Oh, fuck, it's nice to see another face."

Jordie's response was to slap him harder in the cheek.

Michael, slow on the uptake this morning, only managed to barely block a second slap.

"Have--have I done anything in particular to--"

He had to block another slap, at which Jordie growled and grabbed his forearm. The scars burned at the touch. They might be years old, but somehow his arms still remembered every single mark.

"Jordie, man, come on."

The left-handed slap hit this time, bringing tears to Michael's eyes.

"...Whatever I did, I'm sorry." He blinked, feeling his cheek begin to puff up and redden.

Jordie took him by the chin, fingers squeezing into his forearm in a vice grip, slamming his head back into the metal bedframe bar.

"Do you ever shut up?"

Michael winced and gritted his teeth. He hated that a sense of rejection was twisting with the nausea in his stomach. Shutting up wasn't too hard for Michael. After all, he'd had an instinctive freeze response for years.

Having to do it again was like going back to that old, haunted identity.

The one before he made himself. Before he became the unfairly-promoted, lowest-performing detective in Cleveland.

Sinking into that self without the defense of "worrying" about everyone else was crushing.

It was worse than the physical pain. But there was only so much he could take before his body made the choice for him.

Just coming down from an injury-induced fever, Michael was weak and vulnerable.

"That's better." Jordie said, surveying his face. "Nice and scared and quiet. Now if I take you to sit out with the others, will you be good?"

Michael closed his eyes, trying not to be irritated at the condescension, and nodded.

It was nearly night when Pete came back.

He was not alone.

"You told me you'd have him begging. A full week!" --the sound of a blow strikign somewhere hard, through clothes, made Michael's senses pop to full alert and set his heart beating hard and fast-- "A full week! And you don't report this... this failure!"

Michael heard a muffled yelp from Pete as he was dragged into the room, arm twisted over his head at an almost deforming angle.

His eyes darted over to Michael and a dark flush settled over his cool complexion. The man slapped Pete.

Pete blinked, bowing his head in obiescence.

"You think they'll come for the brat like that? They screamed at each other, Pete!"

Pete said nothing, bowing a few times.

Suddenly three more hard punches, which he didn't attempt to block, took his wind, took him to his knees, gasping with a strained mutter of apology, more bowing, face utterly full of shame.

Then the man wheeled on Michael.

"You." He snapped. "Strip this guy. Who's up for a little fun?"

Michael dissociated as they came for him. Pete had, for just a moment, looked exactly like Morgan that day in the rain at the bus station.

Michael had run all the way there, then realized he had no idea where to go, or how, and then leaned forward and idd something he never did–prayed to fate or God or whatever.

"Just get me out of this. If there's any care in you at all. Please."

A sense of his own tinyness in the middle of existence overwhelmed him, and he huddled n against a monstrous cold front of November.

And then he heard it--the skittery footfalls of Morgan Huer.

He flinched and huddled in.

Don't see me, don't see me.

"Michael." Morgan said, and Michael jumped. "Dad knows."

Michael cursed and cringed away from Morgan, expecting to be dragged out of the booth, through the rain, and back to Morgan's father, who would already be waiting with the poker.

Morgan was watching his reaction with what Michael interpreted as sadistic enjoyment.

"Don't torture me, Morgan." Michael said. "Just do it."

"Then come willingly," Morgan said.

"You know I can't do that. I don't know how to be good. I've tried. It's pointless. I just... I can't go back,"

And he watched Morgan's face go from calm, to twisted up and working. Then the shame, the dread, fixed on Michael in a confusing stare.

"I'll... tell him I found you in the yard."

Michael couldnt' believe his ears. Morgan had never offered something like that before.

There was a long pauseas Michael's eyes widened, realizing Morgan was serious.

"You better listen in, so you don't lie wrong if he sees through me." Morgan added. "Come on, let's go."

Morgan got his jaw broken for that.

He never stood up for Michael again.

Michael's brain reeled as he watched hte gang surrounding him. A hundred variations of one idea with no end in sight punched through his brain at once, all-encompassing one idea--stop them.

Every placating response he'd crafted fell to the wayside in a burst of strength as he ducked forward, not even feeling the ripping in his wounded leg as he hit Jordie with a kick to the crotch. He dropped straight ot hte ground with a loud curse. Michael punched, shifted and swung again at anyone who dared grab him, nknocking down three and throwing them behind him, getting closer to the stairwell. Three steps away.

But Pete was in between him and his goal, walking closer and raising a gun with two gangsters at his sides.

Michael roared and ran at him, splitting his lip back open in his desperate attempt to escape or die.

Then a hit from the boss's palm smacked into his forehead in a concussive strike that rattled his brain.

His consciousness blinked out momentarily and he awoke right before his head hit the ground, this time falling on his back.

"Well," Pete's boss smirked grimly as he sauntered toward Michael. "You just had to make this hard on yourself."

That was when Michael recognized the tattoo on his chest under the loose tank top. It was a very stylized version of the word "United". Michael had heard of the guy with this specific tattoo. This was Psycho, leader of the Westside Kids.

Michael blinked at him, trapped on the ground with Jordie's heavy boot on his chest. He was grinding the heel into his bruised ribs for good measure, probably enjoying Michael's winces of pain that he tried not to show.

He could've tried to fight, but that would mean another beat-down. Maybe broken bones this time.

His mind was fuzzy, but he remembered the thought process for tihs. They needed him to genuinely beg Morgan for help.

"Just--just--" Michael tried to speak, but the man carried such a powerful presence that his teeth chattered and he couldn't think, or breathe.

"We could have made this a bit less painful for you if you'd just cooperated, but you had to be a fuckin idiot."

Beg. They wanted him to beg.

Michael grimaced, knowing what that would do to him. Then he took a breath and said,

"Pleaes. Please, guys... I can't... Don't hurt me anymore." His voi e pitched upward.

And there it was--the flashback he knew was coming even as he thumped his aching leg on the ground to try to stay in the moment.

Most of what came back to him was the sound. The thunk of a piece of kindling hitting his legs hard enough to leave blackish bruises.

The words "if you run, you'll only make this worse."

The sound of teenage Michael's screaming, begging, the sound he was making right now as he knew they were going to strip him and do god-knows-what to him.

"Please, no, please, no," He was running his mouth like it would do him any good.

"Hey Pete," Psycho said, "You know that old cord I had you save from the AC?"

"Yeah." Pete's swollen eyes glinted coldly.

He crossed the room to rummage in a pile of junk behind Micael's cell.

"No," Michael's eyes were running freely with tears, equal to the shame he felt for crying in the first place. "Fucking please." His voice was cracking all over the place.

"Hey Jordie?" The boss said.

"Yeah?"

"Give 'im twenty."

Tag list:

@fleur-a-whump @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees @whumped-by-glitter @whump-writings @mimostic @tildeathiwillwrite

[jikookficsdiarry]

Hello loves!!! Today's fic rec is honestly my favourite!! I mean rockstar Kookie and MUA Jiminie!!! Need I say anymore?? Honestly the humour in this fic is just beautiful🤍 and my days the sexual tension!!! It's tensioning real good! They just act like they don't like each other, but trust me they love each other🤭🤍

Please do read tags and give it a chance🤍

Also are you'll excited for SUPER TUNA??!! my alarm is set! Let's show our jinnie all the love🤍🥹