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pinkpoweredpunk · 4 days ago

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———

[AUDIO: A recorded conversation, with a few static cuts in between.

Blake: …Well. This sucks major ass.

N: …How are your legs?

Blake: Still- still pretty damn broken.

N: R-Right…

Blake: It’s fine. Give it like… a couple hours, probably. They’ll be good as new.

N: What? Blake, broken legs can take months to heal.

Blake: Yeah. For normal- hsss- for normal people.

N: A-Are you okay?

Blake: Y-yep. Ow, fuck- Th-the pain’s just uh, how you know it’s workin’.

Blake: Ghhhgh- if I’m being honest I think the healing magic hurts more than the actual- fff- injury.

N: Oh… right.

Blake: What about you?

N: Bruised and battered, but… I’ll be fine.

Blake: Hah, guess I cushioned you from the worst of the falling rocks…

N: Sorry. Um, thank you.

Blake: Pff. Don’t mention it.

—[Bzzzt…]—

N: …What’s it like?

Blake: Huh? What’s what like?

N: Being… a chosen.

Blake: Oh, that. Well, you want an honest answer? It sucks ass. I don’t know why you want to be one so badly.

N: Excuse me-?

Blake: Said you wanted to find the dragons and become their new hero, right? Pretty sure that entails becoming their chosen.

N: Y-yes… I guess it does.

N: But- whatever toll becoming one takes on me, I’m ready for it.

Blake: Tch. Fine, just don’t say I didn’t warn ya when you have your fleshing out.

N: Fleshing- what?

Blake: Oh buddy, you are NOT prepared for chosenhood. Just be ready for cleaning up a lot of blood off your bathroom floor, sink, and yourself at three in the morning.

N: What- what, is it like periods?

Blake: What? No. Thank fucking god, I don’t think I could stand bleeding out of TWO places every month. How do you even know what-

N: I have two sisters?

Blake: Oh.

N: And even if I didn’t, I’m twenty years old, of course I know what menstrual cycles are… They aren’t taboo.

Blake: Okay, yeah, I know, I just… grew up in a family that treated it like it was. But no, fleshing out is only supposed to happen like- once, and then it’s over.

N: Alright. Weird that your family would do that, though.

Blake: Yeah, it wasn’t right, looking back. I remember when I was a kid, I started having Arceus awful cramps while I was staying at my dad’s one weekend, and I didn’t go tell him cause my grandma said it “ain’t appropriate talk to boys about that stuff”.

N: That’s… just ludicrous.

Blake: I know, right?

—[Bzzt…]—

Blake: Anyways… What were you exactly planning when you found the dragons, anyway? You thought they were gonna join you just like that?

N: Well, no… They’d have to test me in some way first. When they judge my determination and resolve, they’d consider me worthy of their assistance and help me change the world.

Blake: Right. And if that backfired?

N: It… would just be what it is, I guess. I doubt I’d live to see the outcome of that scenario.

Blake: …Wait, what? You were just… prepared to die if the dragons rejected you?

N: I don’t know. Probably.

N: But… Reshiram and Zekrom exist to guide Unova into a brighter future. If there’s any chance they’d see the future I envision as one worth fighting for, then I’m willing to take it.

Blake: …Jeez, N… just how bad did Ghetsis brainwash you?

N: Excuse me? He didn’t “brainwash” me. He showed me the ugly truth of the world, and made me realize I need to do something about it.

Blake: Pfft, truth? Ghetsis only told you a half truth. Yeah, there’s people out there in the world that are shitty to Pokémon. Maybe even more than most would care to admit. But there’s still a good amount of folks who are trying to make things better, without all that self-sacrificing bullshit.

N: I already told you back in Nimbasa… Even if that is true, it’s not like it’ll work fast enough.

Blake: Oh, but you think carrying out what YOU literally admit is a suicide mission will? N, it isn’t worth it.

N: Well, maybe it isn’t to you, but it is to me! I would die a thousand times to make sure not a single Pokémon had to know suffering at the hands of a human ever again. Pokémon are everything to me.

Blake: Look, I get it, you want to keep Pokémon away from bad people. But why the hell do you think you can do that by taking them away from everyone? That’s crazy! Some little girl with a Sewaddle isn’t even partially responsible for shit like Pokémon exploitation in the battling scene, or habitat destruction or whatever-

N: Don’t you see? When we start making exceptions, fixating on these little “what if’s”, and “what about’s”, trying to pick and choose who’s good enough to have Pokémon and who isn’t, nothing gets done. Everything just gets muddled and gray, all the while everything around us continues to go to shit. Humans are too complicated and- and obstinate to decide what’s best for Pokémon on their own. They’ll butt heads over the tiniest, most trivial little matters. And the Pokémon- they’re always the ones getting caught up in the midst of the problems, one way or another.

Blake: …

N: What?

Blake: Just… never heard you cuss before.

N: I- Seriously? That’s the part you got hung up on? Did you even pay attention to anything I just-

Blake: No, I heard what you said. What I still don’t get is how you think taking everyone’s Pokemon is the way to go about fixing any of that.

N: Because if they live somewhere separately from us, they don’t have to be caught up in that “gray area” anymore. We could keep them safe. We’d never HAVE to worry about them getting exploited or unfairly involved in our messes again if no one can reach them. No more instances like- like…

Blake: Tch. Like what, Rose and Lysandre?

N: You still aren’t grasping even a little of what I’m saying? Seriously, are you just doing it to be stubborn or do you genuinely believe nothing is wrong with the world-

Blake: Of course I think there’s something wrong with it. I just don’t think that causing more separation and discord between everyone is gonna do jack shit to stop it!

N: Plasma’s goal isn’t to cause discord!

Blake: Oh yeah? Then what the hell was the stuff back in Castelia, or Liberty Garden, or the Cold Storage, or-

N: Wh- fine, if you wanna go there- if there’s anyone causing “discord”, it’s the people who continue to turn a blind eye to these problems! It’s not Plasma’s fault we have to go to extremes to get people to listen. If anything, we’re speaking their language right back at them. Trainer culture is so often painted as “coming to understand each other through friendly competition”, but is that really the case? How often is it actually friendly? At the end of the day, it’s just people looking for a more “acceptable” way to sort their problems out through violence, they just use all that flowery talk to convince you it’s okay. Because it’s the Pokémon getting hurt, not the people, right? And don’t even get me started on how the league capitalizes off of it all, off the Pokémon that are forced to fight-

Blake: You know I was a champion, right? Of Galar of all places? I am MORE than aware of how much Leagues worldwide have hyped up battling and trainerhood and turned it into a corporate spectacle, I’ve been at the forefront of it! You have no clue how much the League burned me and my team out with all the exhibition matches, photo shoots, interviews, blah blah blah-

N: Then you should understand better than anyone!

Blake: How many times to I have to tell you? I agree that there’s problems, I just don’t agree with your method of trying to fix them! You’re trying to put out a small grass fire with a fucking ocean-

N: What does that even-

???: Eeeeeelektross!

N & Blake: Gyah-!

N: Sorry, sorry, we’ll- we’ll pipe down…

Blake: What’d she say?

N: She just told us to be quiet-

???: Hissss!

Stomp, stomp, stomp, stomp…

Blake: Wh-what’s making that noise-

N: Shh! It’s coming this way!

Stomp… stomp… stomp….

…

Stomp… stomp… stomp…

N: …I think it’s gone.

Blake: What the actual living fuck was that?! It sounded huge!

N: I don’t know. Whatever it is, the Eelektross and Tynamo are terrified of it.

Blake: Ughhh, we’re going to DIE down here!

N: No we aren’t!

—[Bzzt…]—

Blake: Okay… I spy something… dark and tall.

N: Sigh. It better not be that damn rock in the corner again-

Blake: Nope.

N: Then… then is it the Eelektross..?

Blake: Nooooope.

N: I give up. What is it?

Blake: Don’t you see it…? The shadowy figure looming behind right you…

N: What-?!

Blake: Bahahaha! Made you look!

N: Oh, I swear-

—[Bzzt…]—

Blake: Hey, that Zoroark of yours… what’s his deal?

N: Hm? You mean Nox?

Blake: Yeah. He’s the only ‘Mon I’ve seen on you that sticks around. You change your team every time we meet, but he still hasn’t left.

N: Well… He’s like a brother to me. He’s been by my side since we were kids.

Blake: But… isn’t having that kinda close bond with him against your beliefs? Since you don’t like Pokémon and people being together at all, it seems.

N: That’s… that’s different. I was raised by Pokémon, I can understand them and what they feel in their hearts.

N: But before you ask- no, he and I are not an exception to Pokémon liberation, either. He’s going to return to the wild once all of this is said and done, where he belongs.

Blake: But- you two are family. You’ve spent your entire lives together, haven’t you? Why would you send him away like that? I- you’d be sending all Pokémon away from you. I thought you said they were your everything.

N: Because, when I start making excuses like that, it’s unfair to everyone else. I… no longer being able to be with Pokémon is going to hurt, undeniably so, but it’s necessary. Nox and I both understand this.

Blake: …Whatever you say.

—[Bzzt…]—

Blake: Snrrrr… snrrrk….

N: Blake?

N: Oh. You’re asleep. That’s why you’ve been so quiet.

N: Guess it’s just… me and my thoughts now.

…

N: …Gods, what a mess, huh? We’ve been trapped in this chamber for hours now. I’m starting to wonder how we’re ever gonna find our way out once you’re in the shape to walk. We must’ve fallen pretty far in if we found an Eelektross pair and their offspring down here… they typically reside in deep, dark places.

N: I’m glad they’ve been kind enough to offer a place for us to rest. I don’t know if we can survive down here with their help forever, though. Not unless we start eating the things they eat, which… probably wouldn’t end very well for us.

N: Hah… it’s strange. I don’t usually talk this much. I keep my thoughts to myself. It’s… different with you, though. I could blabber on endlessly about the most pointless stuff around you. Hah, you’d probably hate that, wouldn’t you? I don’t know what it is. There’s just this part of me that wants to share everything I’m thinking about to you, even if all it does is get us in another round-about argument like the one we were in earlier.

N: But… I missed the way we spoke before all of this happened. I never… laugh like that with anyone else. Not with anyone human, anyways. I used to think that whatever I could potentially get out of human interaction wasn’t something I couldn’t get from having conversations with Pokémon. Which… to an extent, I think is still true. They’re a lot easier to understand than people. But you, you’re… you’re strange, you say such peculiar things, you see the world in all these weird, unique ways. At least… you used to.

N: …What happened to you, Blake? All that stuff you said at the Ferris Wheel, about how the world has treated you… You couldn’t have meant any of it, could you? When did you lose hope? What did you go through to make you say all those things? I guess, looking at how past two years have been for you, the answer is pretty obvious, but…

N: …I don’t know what I expected, when I asked you to join me. Of course you’ve changed. I’m not the same boy I was before Ghetsis took me in, so I’m not sure why I expected you to…

N: …I’m sorry. I’m sorry I messed it all up. My first human friend, and I drive them away before I can even get to know them properly. A… a part of me is still frustrated that you won’t even try to listen to my ideals. But I guess I can’t blame you. People, Pokémon… any living being, honestly… they tend to close their hearts after enduring enough pain. Maybe I… I’m not that much better in that regard, actually.

N: When… all of this is over, I… I hope you and I can find a way to be friends again. That sounds outlandish to say, of course… if Plasma wins, you��ll have your Pokémon taken away, because of me. I understand if you’ll never want anything to do with me as long as we live. But… I guess it can’t hurt to hope, as foolish as it is…

—[Bzzt… ]—

Blake: N? Hey! N!

N: Mmhgh..? What?

Blake: Rise and shine, wakey wakey. Come on, you look stupid sprawled out on the floor like that.

N: Blake…? You’re standing. Are your legs-?

Blake: Feeling better? Yeeeap. Like I said, good as-

Crack.

Blake: -Ow! Fffffuckingggg…

Blake: Okay. NOW they’re all better.

N: …

Blake: Come on, don’t look at me like that. What matters is that I’m up and moving, which means we can finally work on getting outta this hellpit.

???: Eeeeeel.

Blake: I mean this… lovely cave den that these wonderful Eelektross hosts have been kind enough to let us heal in.

N: Where… where are we going to even start looking? It’s pitch dark out there. And it doesn’t seem like Rotom’s flashlight has much left in it-

???: Tyyynam! Tyyynamo!

N: Huh?

Blake: What are they saying?

N: They’re… oh, they’re saying they’ll help guide through the cave with their light.

Blake: Really? Huh, thanks little guys.

Blake: Well, we’ve got our guides, so that settles it then. Let’s get a-movin’.

———

#pkmn irl #pkmn rp #pokeblogging #rotomblr #facets of truth arc #tw blood #//lemme know if there’s anything else I should tag

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spirestar · 1 year ago

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Being a million tiny pieces of nothing is a taxing job. Living a little life in each mote and cell, every invisible creature inside a drop of blood and each drop of blood in a stream and all the little bugs that aren't bugs at all that creep inside veins and sleep. There is nothing but the big vat of it all, of life, of living and wishing for dying and living too many times to count. Laughter inside of paper walls that glow like a candle in a lover's window. All the little creatures never go quiet under skin, always with their cicada wings rubbing noisily and their crying, mourning, sobbing. It makes the one they live inside's head feel like it may burst---And here's the doctor to diagnose them, to call them imagination and call them liars. In the warm, gentle arms of twyrine Peter can't hear them, not so much; If every dream of that wretched miracle is a song, he will hear them, but by the god that is his brother and his own hands made one, he wishes they'd leave him alone.

"You just ran into the wall. It's time to lie down." That voice swims in his ears for longer than he realizes, reverberating off the wide walls of center stage. The Bachelor, cast in a halo of light, a beam overhead blazing into the back of his head. And Peter is only backlit, a veritable shadow where he's landed / crashed / fallen to the wooden floor. Where is the wall? Where is his pen? Peter has seen angels in his sleep, has been sung to and flayed and used to create whatever masterpieces they deigned, but never has he touched one in a waking hour; He blinks blearily, the light too hot and bright in his face.

There's a hand on his arm--helping him up?--and that dingy orange light of his brother's watering hole has returned. Iron stings his tongue, thicker than ichor, and he laughs. Helpless. The world is a swirl of nothing at all, the same the same the same, and he is the only fraying end, unspooling himself onto the floor into tangles and knots that no one will ever dare gather up to salvage. Part of Peter misses that light. Dankovsky is all human again. There's nothing more beautiful than humans, mortal and fickle and true. Nothing more terrifying than the divine they create, the divine they empower and revere. Peter should know: He can remember killing god in his sleep, or was that his shadow?

"Bachelor," he breathes, the least coherent bits of him grasping for anything other than the fellow's name. For some reason it frightens him so now. "A wall where there was none--Just picture it." For effect, and perhaps for comedy that he no longer has any grasp of but once did, he knocks a trembling hand against said wall. The one he's clearly left him mark on, if the blood on it is any proof. His nose maybe? He can't really feel the source. "Now, why do you think my brother would do that to me. He knows I hate a cage," a willful smile, "and a jailer. That's not you, is it? Shepherding the little sheep and diseases to sleep?" Peter leans into the arm holding him up, but not because he means to. "Have you had a drink?"

@heartinhands

#heartinhands #peter stamatin: ic.#alcoholism /#substance abuse /#suicidal ideation /#unreality /#umm. okay here's where the tagging begins #lemme know if i should tag anything else !! i'm still figuring out the best way #i went a little pretentious and crazy w this cuz i don't feel like it's possible to write peter any other way #also i'm goin for mostly classic peter but i want him to have 2's jacket because it's cool

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