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natvrefairy · 4 years

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Friendship Anniversary (Red x Reader)

Requested: Nope, just thought I should give you all a taste of my writing first.

Reader Pronouns: She/her

Word Count: 1,390

A/N: So, I've recently started a new playthrough of Pokémon Blue, and I just love Red's character, so here we go. :)

C/W: Selective mutism, mainly fluff

Context: Set about six years after Pokémon Red and Blue. Red has been up on Mt. Silver for about three years, only coming down when necessary, or when (Y/N) has convinced him to fly down to her house with her (very rare). She visits him up there regularly to check on him and his team, and bring supplies. He's still got his selective mutism, but she learned sign language to communicate with him.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Six years. It had been six years since (Y/N) had left her home in Pallet Town to set off on her Pokémon journey. Although it was so long ago, sometimes it felt like only yesterday.

She was never as competitive as her childhood friends, Red and Blue, but she did love Pokémon just as much as them. It was a bit disappointing when her dream ended at the Pokémon League, but she was happy for Red, and they moved on quickly.

Red. He hasn't been the same for a while. It's hard to pinpoint when exactly it started, but as time went on throughout their journey, he started talking less and less, before suddenly, he just never spoke again. (Y/N) never found out why, but then again, she didn't want to be rude by asking. Instead, she poured all her efforts into learning sign language, desperate to show support for her best friend in any way she could. It was sometimes weird not physically talking like they used to as young children, but they never needed to talk constantly before anyway. They always had other ways to communicate, so maybe it wasn't too different after all.

For Blue on the other hand, it drove him mad. He never understood how (Y/N) and Red could spend hours just spending time together without uttering a single word. For him, it was a lot harder to understand Red's sudden silence. (Y/N) could tell Blue was trying his best to be there for support, but it was draining him as well. He wanted to support his friend, but didn't know how. Blue was never good at showing real emotions anyway. And now, he's so busy as a gym leader, he barely ever gets the time to go up to Mt. Silver. He's just grateful for (Y/N) for sticking around.

They're all 17 now, and today marks the day when Red and (Y/N) first became friends. Twelve years, it's been. Time really does just fly by.

Humming a soft tune, (Y/N) walks around her house, making sure everything is in place for her to leave. Considering it's their friend anniversary, she was planning on going up to Mt. Silver to visit Red. She even bought him a little present. It wasn't anything big; just a book on Pokémon. She didn’t feel the need to get anything too big, because she knows it just makes him feel bad. But she wanted to get him something, and anything on Pokémon, he'd definitely appreciate.

She looks down in confusion as her pokéball shakes, her trusty Jolteon popping out on his own accord. Shaking her head, she gives him an amused smile.

"What's wrong Jolteon? I only just sent you back. It won't be for long; we're just going to fly to Mt. Silver."

Her Jolteon is very similar to Red's Pikachu, in that he hates his pokéball. Although he does still reluctantly go into his ball when told, (Y/N) prefers to keep him out. She doesn't like seeing him upset, but sometimes it's necessary for him to be in his ball. Like to keep him safe when they're flying.

Jolteon shakes his head, his fur pricking up like static as he runs to the door. Running after him, she hesitates before opening the door, curious as to what he can sense.

"Pika! Pikachu!"

'Hello.'

"Red, Pikachu, what are you guys doing here?" (Y/N) asks, clearly in shock as Pikachu jumps off Red's shoulder and runs inside to play with Jolteon.

'It's our friend anniversary. We wanted to see you.' Red signs, smiling softly.

(Y/N)'s face lights up at the sight of that smile; the one he only ever shows around her or his Pokémon. Stepping to the side to let him in, she closes the door, freezing as she suddenly remembers his present.

Grabbing the messily wrapped present, she hands it to him, her face flushed in embarrassment.

'I got you something. Sorry about the wrapping.' She apologises, averting her gaze awkwardly, before leading him to the couch to unwrap it.

There was something almost terrifying about watching him open it. She knew there was nothing to worry about; she knew him better than anyone, after all. Except Pickachu, obviously. She knows what Red likes, and she knows he'll appreciate the gift, but for some reason, she can't help being nervous.

Feeling his hand being placed on top of her own, (Y/N) jumps slightly, looking up to meet Red's warm gaze. Looking into those perfect ruby eyes of his let loose a swarm of Butterfree in her stomach. Her mouth goes dry, so she just smiles back at him, understanding his gesture of thanks.

Confused when he suddenly grabs his bag, her eyes widen as he pulls out a perfectly wrapped present, handing it to her.

"Red... You shouldn't have."

He just shakes his head, gesturing for the girl to open it. Carefully unwrapping it, hands shaking slightly, she furrows her eyebrows to see a black box. Lifting the lid, her jaw drops to see the beautiful ruby necklace she'd been wanting for months. Tears welling in her eyes, she looks at him in confusion. She never mentioned it to him.

"How did you...?"

Red's cheeks heat up slightly as he signs a response, 'I may have asked Blue if there was anything you had your eye on.'

Gently taking it from her, he clasps it around her neck, grinning happily at the beauty in front of him. (Y/N) shakes her head in disbelief, a small chuckle escaping her lips.

'You really went above and beyond,' She signs to him, gently kissing him on the cheek before getting up, 'tell you what, how about we just have a movie day?'

----

Hours had passed, and Red and (Y/N) were still snuggled up on the sofa-bed watching movies, a blanket draped over them. They had stopped earlier for dinner, and Pikachu and Jolteon had already fallen asleep, so there was nothing stopping them from watching movies for the rest of the night.

Except, unfortunately, the tiredness slowly creeping its way in to (Y/N)'s body. Her eyes keep drifting shut, until Red grabs the remote, switching the TV off.

"What did you do that for?" (Y/N) asks, glancing up at him with half-shut eyes, earning a soft glare in response. She knew that look all too well. "But I don't want to sleep yet."

Red places a finger against her lip, silencing her and shaking his head. Planting a soft kiss on her temple, he pulls her closer; a sign that he's not taking no for an answer.

Sighing, (Y/N) moves closer to him, reluctantly closing her eyes. She knows how stubborn he can get, and just decided to leave it at that.

She had almost drifted off to sleep, when she felt a soft pair of lips against her head, and a quiet, hoarse voice break the silence.

"I love you."

(Y/N) freezes, slowly opening her tired eyes to look up at him. Those were the first words he had spoken in five and a half years.

"Red, did you just-?"

"I love you," he whispers again. It looked like a bit of a struggle to speak, but his face showed nothing but pure love and adoration for the girl in his arms.

(Y/N) leans up, pressing her lips against his in a gentle kiss. They were both still very tired, so it didn't last long, but they still had enough time to pour show the love they had held back for years. In those few short moments, it was like a spark rushing through their bodies. All those years of loving each other, all that time they held back, finally expressing their feelings.

When they pull away, (Y/N) buries her head in Red's chest, too embarrassed and tired to actually look him in the eyes. But before she falls asleep, Red does hear her mumble a response.

"I love you too."

Those were the last words she spoke that night. As Red gazes down at the girl sleeping peacefully in his arms; the one he loves with all his heart; he can't help but think about how lucky he is to have her in his life.

(Y/N) is the best thing that ever happened to him, and now they can finally celebrate the start of a beautiful relationship.

#pokemon #pokemon red #pokemon blue #trainer red #champion red #x reader #oneshot #pokemon oneshot #red x reader #red (pokemon)#blue (pokemon)#fluff #selective mutism #kanto

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pkmnrewritecenter · 2 years

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In the Shadow of Zekrom

“The Pokémon world, a place teeming with the most amazing creatures imaginable, populating the land, the sea, and the air. Wherever you may find yourself, chances are, Pokémon will be there right beside you. Including the Kanto region’s Pallet Town, home to this young man, Ash Ketchum.”

Ash zipped up his new short-leave jacket with a grin. His partner Pikachu let out a “Pika!” as he jumped onto his trainer’s shoulder. They laughed together, spinning around in their room before Pikachu settled on his shoulder. Smile still prevalent on his face, Ash grabbed his backpack, slinging it over his shoulder before running out the door.

“A Pokémon trainer with hopes of becoming a Pokémon master.”

“Oops!” Ash said as he rushed back inside, grabbing his red cap. He put it on with a hum before he smiled at his partner, “Psyched for our trip, Pikachu?”

“Pika!”

“Me too, feels like forever since we’ve taken a trip with Mom.”

“Ash?” Deila Ketchem leaned in through the doorway, “Professor Oak is here to pick us up.”

“Great!” “Pika!”

Ash’s mother pursed her lips at Ash before gently fixing his cap, “There! Perfect!”

Outside their home, Deila wheeled her suitcase to Professor Oak’s car as Ash raised an eyebrow at the researcher’s pineapple-themed shirt.

“Let’s hit the road!” Oak chuckled in a cherry tone.

“Why are you dressed like that?” the trainer asked.

“Why to get everyone in the vacation mood of course! It’s been years since I’ve been on such a drip,” he explained.

“But this is work-related, right Professor?” Delia asked.

“Well yes, but whatever I do between conferences is up to me. Now everyone, hop in!”

“You heard him, Pikachu!”

“Pika-pika!”

Both of them quickly jumped into the car. Delia was quick to follow, though she paused to turn back to the house.

She waved, “Bye, Mimey! Are you sure you want to stay?”

Mr. Mime stopped leaning against the doorframe to give the group a goodbye wave, “Mr. Mime, mime.”

“Well, if you’re sure.”

Mimey continued waving as Delia turned around to the car.

…

Inside of Team Rocket’s base, Jessie, James, and Meowth stood before a video of Giovanni, with only his Persian and assistant beside him. The two human agents were dressed in black versions of their normal white uniforms. They were surrounded by black as they stood in attention.

“Now once again, what is Team Rocket’s number one goal?”

“Our goal is to capture Pokémon,” Jessie said.

“Those that are powerful and rare,” James sounded off.

“And to use them to concur every reign,” Meowth finished.

“Very good, I have a new assignment for you three. I’m sending you to the Unova region. We’re trying to establish a presence there. Additionally, there’s a new mysterious organization operating there, they’ve been putting dents in our operations. It’ll be up to you to put a stop to them.”

“Sir yes sir!”

“You’ll be sent there, undercover, by plane immediately. You won’t be able to bring any of your Pokemon from other regions, Meowth will already be drawing too much attention.”

Giovanny ended the call, turning his attention to his Persian.

“You actually have faith they’ll be able to accomplish anything in the Unova region?”

The team leader turned to his assistant, “I doubt they will, but I know their antics will draw out that troublesome group. Then our other agents will be able to properly deal with them.”

She let out a satisfied hum as he continued petting his feline Pokémon.

…

The plane's propellers buzzed as it left Kanto, flying into the sky.

“The Unova region,” Ash read from a pamphlet. The concept of an entirely new region made Ash excited enough to read, a rare sight. “I bet there’s all kinds of Pokémon I’ve never seen before!”

“Of course,” Pr. Oak informed him, “Unova has only opened contact with other regions recently. There are numerous Pokémon ingenious only to this region! I doubt you’ll find any wild Pokémon you’ve seen before there.”

“Wow! That’s awesome, this is going to be so much fun. Right, Pikachu?”

“Pika-pika!”

The two partners looked eagerly out their window, “I can hardly wait to land in Unova.”

A man with blue hair, dressed in a blackish blue coat, bowler hat, and sunglasses, sat down next to his company, a woman and a Meowth wearing matching attire.

“Who would have guessed we’d run into the twerp on this plane?”

“What should we do?” Meowth asked.

“We wait for now,” Jessie said, “We have to be smart about this, I doubt the boss will tolerate another failure.”

The two nodded in agreement, the three glaring at their enemy.

After far too much time staring at clouds, Ash saw a forest-covered coastline, “Wow!”

“That’s our destination, Ash!”

“Yeah! I’m so excited!”

“Pikachu!”

Once they landed, Ash quickly rushed off the plane, Professor Oak and Deila behind him. The two adults continued waking off the dock while Ash stretched, admiring the ocean view.

“Smell that ocean air, Pikachu,” the trainer sighed, but his companion hopped off his shoulder to the end of the docks.

“Pikachu?” Ash asked, concerned, as the electric type only stared at the ocean. The trainer joined him just before a large fish Pokémon leaped from the water. It was a graceful pink with long fins. It let out an “Amollllla!” before it landed back in the ocean.

“Wow! We’re already seeing new Pokémon!” Ash cheered. Pickachu, however, shifted to the left. Where, away from them, an electric storm was approaching.

“What’s that?” the trainer whispered. No one could answer his question because, one: the only thing near him was Pikachu, and two: a metallic cage materialized around said Pokémon. The attached line snapped back to its source. The partners shared a startled yelp just as Ash grabbed onto the cage. He looked up to the end of the line, where he saw three cloaked figures. The shortest of them operating the machine.

“Hey! Who are you guys?”

“Who are you is the question indeed,” the woman started.

“We’ll answer you as we feel the need,” the man said.

The three threw off their disguises, revealing themselves, Jessie, James, and Meowth.

“Team Rocket!” Ash snarled, “What are you doing here?”

“We could ask you the same question,” Jessie replied.

“Pikachu, use Thunderbolt!”’

“Pikachuuu!” the small Pokémon sent a jolt of electricity through the wire, only for it to be blocked before it could reach them.

“Wasted effort!” James called.

“This baby’s Thunderbolt proof,” Meowth grinned.

However, the storm was fast approaching. Deila and Pr. Oak looked up in worry as it surrounded the airport, scenes licked on and off dangerously. Soon, a bolt of blue lighting, right from the glowing center of the storm, stuck between them, destroying the machine in an explosion. Ash and Pickachu were knocked violently to the ground while Team Rocket flew off far away. The entire airport shook as it lost power.

“My Ash!” Deila cried in worry, rushing out to find him as Professor Oak followed.

Ash groaned as he picked himself up, opening his eyes to Pickachu struggling, surrounded by blue electricity. As far as they could see the electricity surged all around them like a tsunami powering down over a small town.

“Pikachu!” Ash struggled out, trying, begging to push himself up from the dock floor.

Pickachu found a way to stand once the blue light washed off him. He panted like a small creature running for its life from its predator. The partners glanced up to the center of the storm.

“Pickachuuu!” the electric Pokémon surged with its elemental type, forcing him to release an electric surge into the glowing eye of the storm. This forced the eye to dissipate, revealing that inside there was, most definitely, a very powerful Pokémon. The partners were partially blinded by the blue electric surge and black storm clouds but they could make out the clawed arms, rigid wings, hulking tail that was glowing darker than the electricity around it, and the glowing red eyes piercing down at them.

“What’s that?”

“...Pika.”

Far away a dark-skinned girl popped her head out of a tree, her small partner following suit. She gasped as she looked at the raging storm.

“You see that Axew?”

“Axew!”

“Something amazing is happening. We have to go!” she said, leaping from the tree as Axew climbed into her gigantic hair. She grabbed onto a vine and swung in the direction of the airport.

Ash and Pickachu stared in bewilderment at the creature. It seemed to stare back before it blasted deeper into the sky, riveting off like a jet engine. The partners let out a cry as they were knocked to the ground. The once-powerful storm dissipated without the Pokémon, making it look like there was never a storm at all.

“The systems are running again, everything’s normal,” one of the airport control pilots mumbled, confused, as the screen and lights regained power. The group looked out the windows in pure confusion.

Ash stifled a groan as he stood back up. His eyes darted back and forth, trying to find his partner. And he did, the Pokémon lying on the dock, unconscious.

“Pikachu!” the trainer cried, picking up the electric type. He wiggled in Ash’s arms. His small eyes slowly fluttered open, “Chaaa.”

Ash let out a shaking breath, pulling his partner into a tight hug, “I’m so glad you’re okay!”

“Ash, dear!”

“Ash!”

Deila and Oak came rushing to him.

“Are you okay?” Ash’s mother asked him, grabbing at his shoulders.

“Yeah, we’re good.”

“Are you sure?” the Kanto professor asked.

The trainer nodded as Pickachu simply cooed. That is, until a small jolt of electricity escaped his cheeks, surprising both of them. However, the electric type only shook his head and happily climbed onto Ash’s shoulder, almost as if shrugging it off. The adults shared a sigh of relief.

“That was some strange storm,” Deila breathed out.

“Yeah, I wonder who that was.”

“Who?” Oak questioned the trainer.

“I’m sure we saw some kind of Pokémon in that storm cloud,” he glanced out to the sea.

The Kanto professor hummed, “We only could only see that giant cloud.”

“Right,” Diela said.

“Uh, man that’s weird,” Ash muttered, “What could it have been?”

“Professor Oak!”

The four of them turned to see a woman in a white lab coat walking up to them.

“Ah, what do you know? Professor Juniper,” Oak greeted.

“I’m sorry I’m so late,” the professor apologized, “How are you doing after that huge thunderstorm?”

“We’re doing just fine, thank you,” Oak nodded, “I’d like you all to meet Professor Juniper. Don’t let her youthful look fool you, she’s one of the most important and impressive Professors in the Unova region.”

“Nice to meet you!”

‘It’s lovely to meet you too,” Delia hummed as Ash smiled wide.

…

Professor Juniper drove the four of them in her jeep, Ash couldn’t help but be astonished by the different Pokémon they passed, grazing fawn-like Pokémon, flying dove-like ones, and scurrying rodent Pokémon.

“You’ve never seen these Pokémon before, right Ash?” the Unova professor asked.

“No, not in any of the regions I’ve visited.”

“Oh, how many regions have you been to?”

“Me and Pickachu have been across Kanto, Johto, Hoenn, and Sinnoh.”

“That’s very impressive,” Juniper said, “I only know a few trainers who’ve visited any other regions at all.”

“Huh, I guess that is impressive. Huh, Pikachu?”

“Pika!” his partner cheered, but another electric surge startled them.

“Is Pikachu still sparking?” Delia asked her son, conserved. Ash hesitantly nodded.

“Once we get back to the lab I’ll have a look,” Professor Juniper offered.

“Wow, thanks, that’d be great,” Ash said.

“As you should know, Kanto Pokémon are quite rare here. I have a lot of questions for you, Professor Oak.”

“Oh, alright then.”

“Is Pikachu rare here too?” Ash asked.

“Definitely, we hardly see any trainers with one, let alone in the wild.”

The trainer smiled down at his partner, who returned the expression.

“Actually, Ash, you’ll be able to see new Pokémon at Professor Juniper’s lab,” Oak smiled back at him.

“Yep, you should enjoy that,” Professor Juniper added.

“C’mon! Let’s go!” a young boy giggled, running down the sidewalk with a young girl and an excited, gray furred Pokémon. The new Pokémon gained Ash’s attention as they drove by.

“This is Nuvema town!” Juniper announced, driving through the humble town. The other three let “Wows” while Pickachu cooed.

“My lab is just up ahead, we’ll have Pikachu looked at there.”

…

Pikachu groaned in the examination device. Several tubes were attached all over him as holographic rays washed over him.

“What do you see, Professor?” Oak asked. He and Juniper looked at the data screen while Ash stood by Pickachu.

“I can’t find any visible problems.”

“So he’s fine?” Ash asked.

“He should be, but I need to run a few more tests to make sure.”

“Oh,” Ash mumbled, “Hear that, buddy? Just a little longer.”

“Pika…”

“Professor Juniper!” one of the Professor’s assistants walked into the room, “The trainer scheduled to receive a starter Pokémon has arrived.”

“Is it really that time again?” the professor mumbled.

“New trainers?” Ash asked.

“One of Professor Juniper’s many duties is to give out the Unova starter Pokémon to new trainers,” Oak explained.

“Unova starter Pokémon?” the trainer asked excitedly.

“Would you like to meet them?” Pr. Juniper asked, laughing slightly.

Ash brightened for a second before he worriedly turned back to Pickachu, “Will he be okay?”

“We’ll watch him,” Deila comforted him as Pickachu let out a “Pika-pi!”

“Okay then, this way Ash,” Professor Juniper led him out of the room.

A young, blonde-haired boy in an orange jacket snapped a picture of the laboratory’s lobby with his camera. He looked over the photos with a neutral expression until he heard footsteps coming toward him. He turned to see Professor Juniper, some trainer, and an assistant wheeling a tray cart.

“Hello, Trip, welcome. It’s good to properly meet,” the professor greeted.

“Hi, Professor Juniper,” Trip said, a smile now clear on his face, “I’m finally ready to start my journey as a Pokémon trainer.”

“I know you’ve waited a long time for today, welcome to the world of Pokémon!”

“Hey, I bet you were so excited last night you couldn’t even sleep a wink,” Ash chuckled. “I was the same way when I started.”

Trip turned to him slowly with a neutral expression, “Who are you?” he asked, dryly.

“Trip, meet Ash,” Juniper said, “He’s a trainer from Pallet Town in the Kanto region who’s been all over the world.”

“Nice to meet you,” Ash held out his hand for a handshake, but Trip only glanced at it.

“Pallet Town?” Trip sneered.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ash asked, voice flat.

He shrugged, looking to the side, “I didn’t say anything.”

Ash didn’t halt his slight glare

“C’mon now. Today’s your first day as a trainer, it should be a happy day,” Professor Juniper tried to lighten the situation.

Juniper walked over to the cart, “Trip, you two can choose between these three Pokémon.”

The professor picked up a pokéball from the tray cart, “First is Tepig, a fire type!”

She threw the ball into the air, releasing the orange pokémon.

“Te-pig!”

“Wow, so you’re a Tepig?” Ash kneeled to the fire type. It realized a huff of fire from its nose, scorching Ash’s face. Ash coughed, “Yep, definitely a Fire type.”

The Pokémon hurried to the open floor, oinking as it went.

“Now here’s Oshawott, a Water type,” she released the otter-like Pokémon.

“Osha!”

“Aww, aren’t you cute,” Ash rubbed the water type’s head, making it blush. He stared up at Ash, eyes sparkling.

“And finally, the Grass type Snivy!”

The last starter materialized left of Tepig, giving a proud look to the people, “Snivy!”

“Wow, that one looks confident!”

The three lined up together as Trip gave them a blank look.

“Man, all these guys would be great to train. It has to be a tough decision,” Ash muttered.

“Then good thing I’m choosing, not you,” Trip side-glared at him.

“Yeah, yeah, obviously,” Ash mumbled, standing up properly.

Trip took a quick photo of three. He glanced at the photo before sliding it back into his pocket.

“I’ve decided,” the blonde said calmly, surprising the other two.

“Just like that?” Ash asked.

“Yep, I’ll be taking… Snivy.”

The grass snake grinned while Tepig only huffed. Oshawott on the other hand… looked utterly heartbroken.

“A good choice,” Juniper said as she handed him a device, “Here’s your Pokédex.”

Trip nodded as he took the device, pointing it towards his Snivy. Activating, it read off its description: “Snivy: The Grass Snake Pokémon. Cool, calm, and collected, Snivy uses photosynthesis to collect energy with the leaf on its tail.”

Having glanced at the Pokédex screen, Trip pocketed it with a huff.

Ash pet Oshawott’s head, “Don’t worry, I’m sure a trainer will see how great you are soon.”

Oshawott looked up at the trainer, starry-eyed, “Osha.”

“Here, five pokéballs for whatever Pokémon you may catch for the both of you.”

Juniper handed the two trainers each a case of five poke balls.

“And here’s Snivy’s Pokéball,” she handed him the red and white device. He pointed it to his Snivy.

“Alright Snivy, let’s get this journey started.”

He recalled him with a flash of red.

“You’ll be able to carry five additional Pokémon at a time, if you catch any more they’ll be sent to me. You’ll be able to swap around your party if you need to.”

“Well, that’s basic,” Trip shrugged, chuckling slightly.

“I hope you have a great journey, Trip.”

“Thank you, Professor Juniper, for everything.”

The new trainers looked to the door next to him. Trip calmly stepped forward, leaving the laboratory. Ash shook his head before running after him.

“Ash?”

“I’ll be right back, Professor Juniper!”

Ash excitedly opened the laboratory door to see Trip walking away from the property.

“Hey, Trip!”

He turned around to Ash, skeptical.

“Going for gym battles?” he asked, walking over to him.

“Well, that’s just basic,” Trip grinned, “Pokémon trainers travel around challenging different gyms to compete in the Unova League.”

“Really? That’s just like in other regions!”

“Oh, well-” Trip flattered, “I didn’t know how it worked out there, I guess.”

Ash glared slightly, but his smile returned after Trip glanced back at him.

“What… other regions have you been to?”

“I’ve actually been to four other regions before now, counting Kanto,” the trainer smiled.

Trip hummed at him. They stood there awkwardly, Ash not knowing what to say while Trip waited for a chance to leave.

“Pi Pikachu!”

Ash excitedly turned back to the lab at the sound of his partner. The electric type leaped onto his shoulders as Trip’s eyes widened.

“All done with your tests, buddy?”

“Chaa!”

“Woh! What’s that Pokémon?” Trip asked as he pulled out his Pokédex.

“Pikachu: The Mouse Pokémon. An Electric Type. The evolved form of Pichu. Pikachu’s tails are occasionally struck by lightning as it raises it to check its surroundings.”

Trip gasped softly, before quickly snapping a variety of photos.

“What are you doing?” Ash asked, stepping back slightly.

Trip groaned, “Listen up! A Pikachu in Unova is a really big deal.”

“It’s not a big deal,” he shrugged, “Pikachu is my number one partner, not to mention my first Pokémon. Like your Snivy.”

Trip hummed, “Is it strong?”

Ash smirked, “Oh, you bet.” “Pika pika!” “Wanna see?”

“Sure I do.”

Quickly the two trainers were face to face on the small battle course on the side of the path.

“Snivy, I choose you!” Trip threw his pokéball onto the field, releasing the grass snake with a blue glow, “Snivy!”

“Pikachu, let’s go!”

“Pika pika!” the electric type leaped off his trainer’s shoulders onto the battlefield. They let out a “huh?” at the click of a camera. They glanced at Trip, who was photographing the battle scene instead of actually starting.

“I’m recording my journey, and this is Snivy’s first battle,” Trip smiled, seeming to be enjoying himself.

Ash gave him a confused look, before smiling, “That’s really cool! And since it’s your first battle you can go first!”

“Alright! Snivy, use Tackle!”

“Snivy!” the grass starter rushed towards the Kanto Pokémon with a glare on its face.

“Pikachu, use Quick Attack!”

“Pika!” Pikachu rushed towards the other Pokémon, a streak of white trailing behind it. He slammed into Snivy before the other could hit him, knocking them back to the ground.

“Get up, Snivy!”

It struggled as it returned to its battle stance, “Sni.”

“Good, now use Vine Whip!”

The grass snake sprouted vines from its back. It whipped them forward to the opposing Pokémon at breakneck pace.

“Use Iron Tail to deflect it!” Ash called.

“Pika!” the electric type slammed the hardened tail above its head to hit the fast-approaching vines, knocking them away.

“Huh?!” Trip sputtered, confused at Ash using an attacking move defensively.

“Great! Now finish it with Thunderbolt”

“Pika pika,” Pikachu charged power before releasing… nothing. “Chu?”

“What?” Ash was beyond confused at the result. Pikachu groaned, uncomfortably, shaking slightly.

“What was that?” Trip mocked, “Snivy use Vine Whip again!”

“Sni!” the starter retried the attack.

“Pikachu counter with Volt Tackle!”

“Pika!” Ash’s partner rushed forward. That is until he simply tired out, no electricity gathering around him. Pikachu tried to catch his breath, his body slightly quacking with pain, which allowed Snivy to land the hit with its vines.

“Why can’t Pikachu use electric moves?” Ash asked himself.

“Is this some kind of strategy? Calling out moves you can’t even use?” Trip chuckled.

“Okay Snivy, let’s finish this with-!”

“Stop! Trip, I forfeit, there’s something wrong with Pikachu.”

The new trainer scoffed, “Figures.”

“C’mon Pikachu, we need to get you-”

“Pika! Pika Pikachu!” the Pokémon shouted, raising his paws up like fists despite the sweat gathering on his head.

Ash was stopped in his tracks by Pikachu’s outburst. The trainer gave him a confused look, “You want to keep battling?”

“Pika!”

Ash beamed, “Well, alright then! Let’s give it all we’ve got.

“Finally,” Trip grinned, “Snivy, attack with Leaf Tornado!”

“What move is that?”

“Don’t know that one, do you?” Trip raised his head, making Ash growl slightly.

Snivy whipped himself around, creating a barrage of sharp leaves from its tail and sending them towards the opposing Pokémon.

“Quick Pikachu! Cut through with Iron Tail!”

“Pika!”

The electric type swirled its tail through the leaves, preventing them from connecting to him as he made his way to the Snivy.

“What?!”

“Now land the hit on Snivy, then finish it with Quick Attack!”

“Pika Pika!” Pikachu, still airborne, used the remaining momentum to knock Snivy to the ground before landing. The electric type dealt the final blow, sending the Snivy to Trip’s feet, swirls in its eyes.

“Snivy!” Trip exclaimed, kneeling to his starter, which only moaned out its name.

“We did it!” Ash cheered. Pikachu let out a tired, “Pi Pi!”

Before falling to its feet.

“Pikachu!” Ash dropped to his knees, gently picking up his starter. Ash nearly leaped up, turning around and rushing inside the laboratory. He stepped in front of the doors, but stopped and turned back to the battlefield to see Trip walking away, his starter recalled.

“Hey, Trip!”

“What?”

The Kanto trainer smiled, “That was a great battle!”

Trip only huffed in reply, continuing away from the property. Ash’s smile disappeared as he worriedly looked down at his partner. He pushed through the doors.

Professor Juniper stared at the data screen before her. Professor Oak and her assistant stood next to her. Ash was next to Pikachu, who was put back into the scanning device, worried as Delia stood next to him in a vain attempt to comfort him. Even the Oshawott from earlier stood at the door frame, pecking his head in.

“So something’s really not right with Pikachu after all?” Ash asked, nervousness apparent in his voice.

Professor Juniper rubbed her chin, “It appears that Pikachu has suffered an electrical overload of some kind.”

“Overload?”

“All that electric energy Pikachu absorbed in that thunderstorm was too much. He just couldn’t handle it.”

“That explains why Pikachu isn’t able to use any Electric type moves,” Oak added.

Ash’s expression grew even more worrisome as he glanced back at his partner, “You mean Pikachu won’t ever be able to electric type moves again?”

Before Juniper could comment the screen glitched out, making a loud noise, while electricity gathered around Pikachu’s cheeks and tail. The electric type struggled to contain the energy as some of the tubes around it detached.

“Piiiii ca!”

“Pikachu!” Ash shouted worriedly.

“Professor Oak, it’s that storm again,” Pr. Juniper pointed to the window, where the electric storm surrounded the lab.

“Oh my.”

…

Iris could only stare at the dark storm encasing the town from the tree she had settled on.

“That again,” she muttered.

“Axew,” her small partner muttered.

…

A lightning bolt violently struck the laboratory’s satellite, the electricity seemed to go straight to Pikachu, he was encased in electricity, freeing him from whatever wires were left, as the rest of the power went out.

“Reboot the system, now!”

“Yes, Professor Juniper,” one of her assistants nodded, rushing out the room. The Professor gasped as the thunder grew louder.

“It couldn’t be. Could it?”

“Could it be what?” Oak asked.

“Could the source of those clouds be Zekrom? The legendary Pokémon of ideals?”

“Zekrom?” Ash breathed out.

“Zekrom’s quite infamous here. It’s said that from within its storm cloud Zekrom watches over people and Pokémon. And its lightning bolts are judgments from above, that they’re the pillars that hold up the sky.”

Pikachu suddenly cried out its name as it surged with even more electricity.

“Pikachu!” Ash cried in concern.

“Pikachu has been affected by a mysterious phenomenon. Can it regain its electric type power? A dark cloud of confusion has suddenly fallen over Ash and Pikachu as the journey continues…”

_______________

I don't actually care that Pikachu lost to Trip's Snivy. I changed it for story reasons.

#pokemon bw rewritten #pokeani #pokemon best wishes #ash ketchum #pikachu #team rocket #jessie pokemon #james pokemon #meowth #zekrom #delia ketchum #professor oak #professor juniper #trip pokemon #ash's oshawott #long post

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in-tua-deep · 4 years

Note

Daemon AU? Yes PLEASE!

I will give u the pre-canon material exploring Five and his daemon’s relationship ;3c

---

Pancha prefers small forms. Five never knows for certain why, and when he asks her she just tilts her head and shrugs at him because she doesn’t know what to say, either.

She likes being a hummingbird, flitting around Five’s head and hovering in front of his face before nesting in his hair. She likes being a mouse, scurrying up Five’s arm and tucking herself into the pocket on the front of his blazer. She likes being a rabbit, feet thumping against the floor as she zoomed around the room at top speed.

Five never knows, or maybe just never vocalizes why the representation of his soul prefers to be small.

But when Reginald Hargreeves gives him scathing performance reviews, his cane clicking against the floor in time with the soft clicking of Aryia’s claws as they look down their noses, as Five stands with his back straight and proud while -

While Pancha curls up tight in his pocket, a mouse biting the end of her own tail so that she would not whimper aloud. They know then, even if they never voice it aloud. The reason that Pancha prefers to stay small.

---

The thing that people learn early is to watch daemons. Not directly, that would be rude, but to keep them in the corner of your eye and observe. Daemons are the representation of a person’s soul after all, and souls can’t lie.

If someone is nervous, their daemon will shuffle anxiously. If someone is angry, their daemon will puff up in fury. When someone is scared, their daemon will cringe and cower. It’s easy to spot a liar in a world where the heart lays outside of the body.

Five’s very good at lying with his own body. He stands up straight and proud. He bares his teeth in furious smiles, licking blood from his lips and refusing to back down. He speaks loudly, with purpose, with challenge in his voice and in his words. Five is hard-headed. Five is disobedient. Five is an unruly little monster.

Pancha shifts into a hummingbird, because everyone knows hummingbirds flit around to keep aloft. It doesn’t look like nervous energy when it’s for a purpose. Pancha shifts into an australian tiger beetle, because they don’t have lips to draw back in wordless snarls. Pancha shifts into a gerbil and hides in Five’s pockets, because what you don’t see cannot betray you.

They call her adaptable, laugh when their siblings’ daemons begin to settle. They tolerate the speculation about who is going to settle next and what they will become.

They both dread the day Pancha will settle, even if they don’t say anything to one another. They don’t address the fact that she changes from one form to another, cycling through dozens within the space of a day even though their siblings stick to perhaps three. They don’t talk about the buzz under their skin that drives Pancha racing around their room at top speed until they crash on the bed panting together with something clawing desperately inside their soul.

They don’t talk about a lot of things, but they don’t need to. They’re two halves of the same whole.

---

Luther snaps at Five for cheating, for running ahead on a mission. They’re twelve, and Andromeda looks down on Pancha with something cold in her eyes and says, “Of course they can’t obey. They’re still unsettled.”

She says it like an insult, lip drawing back to show off too sharp teeth, says it like it’s something for Five to be ashamed of. Says it like what she’s really saying is that Five is a child. Like they aren’t all twelve-years-old and just settling into their own skins.

She says it like it’s Five’s fault that Pancha can flit through forms like she can’t shed them fast enough. Even as Andromeda speaks, Pancha is a bat, is a wren, is landing on Five’s shoulder as a sugar glider, is curling around his neck as a ferret.

She says it like it’s his fault that he’s twelve-years-old and his daemon is unsettled. Like half the twelve-year-olds running around aren’t doing so with daemons just as unsettled as his.

(Five read once, in a book, that trauma can make daemons settle earlier. There are so many cases of children as young as nine, seven, six with daemons tiny and scared and permanent.

The same book mentioned that abused children’s daemons often fell into one of two categories: large predators, to protect themselves and bare their teeth and intimidate any who try and hurt them. And the small ones, who are tiny and scared and do their best to be beneath notice.

Luther and Diego’s daemons are large, with teeth that can tear flesh and muscles beneath their skin.

Pancha likes to take small forms. Five doesn’t think about it too much.)

Five curls his lip and snarls back at Andromeda in a way that he never does when they’re in front of cameras, because etiquette says that people don’t talk to other people’s daemons, “If you weren’t so slow then maybe I wouldn’t have had to go in alone.”

Pancha shifts from a ferret to a squirrel to a kangaroo rat. The others are used to her rapid changes, but they also mean that they can’t pin down Five’s mood based on his daemon’s body language. She’s shifting too rapidly for that, clawing down his jacket as a hispid cotton mouse and settling into his arms as a pika, as a pygmy rabbit, as a stoat.

“Maybe I should hear a rumor about everyone calming down.” Allison threatens, her hands on her hips and tapping her foot impatiently. Amraphel is wrapped around her shoulders like a scarf, lazily flicking his tongue out.

(Allison has been of ill temper and short of patience ever since Raph settled a month ago. The whole house had heard her shouting about it, and none had dared to address it when they came down to dinner with Raph draped over the back of the chair instead of his customary place in Allison’s lap.

Raph and Allison haven’t sat properly together since he settled, and no one talks about it.)

But Allison’s words settle Andromeda and Luther, both of them backing up in a way they wouldn’t for any other sibling.

Pancha is a bush baby now, climbing up to Five’s shoulder and tugging lightly on the hair behind his ear.

Five holds his hands behind his back and twists his fingers together to the point of pain.

“No need for that.” Pancha says, voice clear and level and almost haughty. “They’re only jealous they can’t be as adaptable as us.”

Luther snarls and lunges forward, only to be blocked by a bristling Andromeda. “They’re not worth it.” She growls, low and deep in her chest with flashes of white teeth. Luther and his daemon try so hard to be respectable, to be cool and aloof like their father and his daemon. It’s almost sad, really.

Pancha is a manipur bush rat, scurrying to Five’s other shoulder. Five untwists his hands from behind his back and reaches up to grab her when she shifts into a black jackrabbit.

“Have you looked in a mirror lately?” Five says, with all his twelve-year-old wit, “Your face isn’t worth it.”

The black eye he sports for three weeks is, in fact, worth it.

---

Pancha is the last one left unsettled. It shouldn’t bother them, they don’t even really want Pancha to settle, but it does in some terrible inexplicable way.

Pancha flits between forms, and none of them feel right.

“We’re obviously going to be something that can jump properly.” Five muses, tapping a pencil against a little black notebook as he thinks. “You said the kangaroo mouse didn’t feel right?”

“Nothing will feel right until the moment we settle.” Pancha points out, flicking the tail of her current ginger-tabby-cat form back and forth, “Val was definitely a wolf a few times before she settled.”

“Yeah, well, I’m like 90% sure Val settled out of pure competitive spirit.” Five dismisses rolling his eyes.

Valencia had settled two hours before Andromeda had, and has lorded it over the other daemon ever since. Diego still preens about how he was the first of the siblings to settle before even Luther.

(Five kind of wants to tell them both that Tamaya settled a week before Valencia and Andromeda both. No one noticed because Ben hadn’t brought it up, and Tamaya had always favored hiding to confrontation. Instead, Tamaya ‘officially’ settled around three days after their siblings.)

“I’m probably not going to be a big animal.” Pancha says, her claws pricking into his skin through his pajama top as she leans against his shoulder to peer at his list. “You can cross kangaroo off.”

“I thought you said you couldn’t be sure?” Five says, eyebrow raised.

Pancha just stares at him blankly. He stares back. Pancha shifts into a Florida king snake.

“Not having eyelids is cheating.” Five scowls, crossing his arms.

Pancha easily swaps into a possum, shaking out her fur. “It wasn’t cheating, it was adapting.” She tosses his words back in his face, “Besides. You thought I could be a kangaroo.”

Five grudgingly crosses an entry out. “Well why are you a possum now?”

Pancha shrugs as well as she can as a possum. “Dunno. It’s a marsupial or whatever, isn’t it? Besides, I’m sort of digging the fingerless gloves aesthetic.” She offers a foot out for Five to inspect.

“You look like you just climbed out of a trash can.” Five informs her.

“No, that was last night.” Pancha shoots back, shifting into a pine marten to crawl into Five’s lap and bat at his notebook. He just holds the notebook a little bit higher, making her huff in irritation.

“Dad really needs to feed us more.”

Pancha nuzzles against Five’s stomach as comfortingly as she can, even though she can feel the slight pang of hunger gnawing at her belly as well as he can. Their power takes so much out of them sometimes, it’s difficult to justify taking more to a man who sees them as an experiment instead of a person.

“I could turn into a tiger and eat Aryia.” Pancha offers, shifting into an otter and making another grab for the notebook that Five easily avoids.

“You don’t like taking big forms.” Five dismisses easily, as though it’s nothing. As though it isn’t something they don’t discuss between them.

Pancha is silent for a few minutes, and even Five stops scribbling away as he waits for her response.

Finally she says, very carefully, “Just because I don’t like to, doesn’t mean I can’t.”

They both are silent after that, Five lowering his arms to curl around Pancha’s latest form in something just a little bit too loose to call a hug.

“It’s safer.” Pancha whispers, breaking the silence between them, “I don’t know why, but it’s safer this way. Smaller daemons - they aren’t looked at as closely. When a tiger daemon bristles, people pay attention. When a mouse daemon bristles, no one even notices.”

“Is my soul really mouse shaped?” Five huffs a laugh, but they both know that he wouldn’t be disappointed in her being a mouse so much as he would her being trapped a mouse.

Pancha nudges at his chin with her broad muscular head, “Hey, don’t knock mice. They’re survivors. Practically anywhere you go, you’ll find mice. Inside, outside, they know how to get around.”

Five hums, dropping his notebook on the bed and bringing his hands up to run them through Pancha’s fur.

“Maybe we should be something with a beak.” Pancha whispers, knowing that Five will hear her no matter how softly she speaks. “No one bothers to look at bird daemon expressions, either.”

“Maybe you’ll be a swan, able to break someone’s arm and look pretty while doing it.”

Pancha snorts, “Yeah, you’d like that wouldn’t you. Vicious representation of our soul, that.”

Instead of saying anything more, Pancha shifts from an otter into a meerkat. She curls into a tight little ball in Five’s lap.

“Not this one either, then?” Five says with a smile.

“Shut up.” Is Pancha’s intelligent response. “Next time you ask, I’m going to bite you.”

---

The moment they figure out what they can, theoretically, do, the buzzing under their skins gets louder than ever.

“Ask dad again, please.” Pancha begs, shifting from a budgie to a canary to a superb fairy wren as she flits about close to the ceiling of their room.

“You ask Aryia!” Five shoots back, bouncing lightly on the top of his bed even though it’s sort of childish. If anyone comes in though, he’ll just say he was trying to catch Pancha and they’d probably believe it.

Pancha turns into a magpie and immediately tries to divebomb Five in irritation, who stands there unimpressed and she’s forced to veer back towards the ceiling or crash into him. “You know she’s a mythic bitch!”

“And you think dad isn’t?” Five asks incredulously, bouncing a little more frantically.

“You don’t get lectures on how you’re -” Pancha flies to the floor and shifts into an impressive rendition of a marble fox identical to their father’s daemon, “Still unsettled Pancha, honestly, I expected better of you. Why can’t you be like the others, you’re so unruly and disheveled and I have no idea why dear old Reggie didn’t do away with you long ago -”

Five is cackling, his bouncing having come to a stop so he could slap a hand over his mouth to muffle his laughter at Pancha’s, frankly, spot on impression of their father’s daemon.

Pancha grins, shifting from a fox into a jack russell terrier and jumping on the bed with Five. “Spot on, wasn’t I?”

“Absolutely impeccable.” Five manages, sticking his nose haughtily in the air, “Why, I almost thought our dearest Aryia was in the room with us!”

Pancha nips at his heels, making him flop down onto the bed with her automatically. The shift in weight and position makes them both bounce a few times before they settle down. They’re still buzzing with energy though, even sitting still.

“I bet time travel would fix us.” Pancha says finally, voice strangely serious in the face of their previous jostling and cheer.

“We aren’t broken.” Five says equally seriously, watching as Pancha shifts into a grey collared chipmunk, then a harvest mouse, and then an antelope jackrabbit. She uses that form’s legs to launch herself from the bed to the desk across the room and back again.

“There’s something wrong with us, Five.” Pancha corrects him fiercely, clawing up his arm as a pallid bat to his shoulder. “The others weren’t like this. We’re thirteen, now. Statistically, we should have settled by now. Or - or slowed down at least.”

Now she’s a margay, precariously balanced on his shoulder with her tail whipping into his face. Five brings up a hand to gently grasp at the twitching appendage, “The average is twelve to fourteen, technically.” He corrects her gently, “We practically just turned thirteen, we have time.”

Pancha hisses, hopping down off his shoulders in the form of a mongoose. “If we just - we have to try, Five. Can’t you feel it?”

Five bops her gently over the head, half scolding. “Of course I can, I’m you aren’t I?”

The buzz under their skin gets stronger by the day, and Pancha hasn’t been able to hold a form for longer than five or ten minutes in almost a year. It takes more effort not to jump than it does to actually jump, these days. Pancha shifts into a brush rabbit and levels him with an unimpressed look.

Five heaves a sigh, foot bouncing against the floorboards as though Pancha has transferred her nervous energy to him. “You know what dad’s gonna say, anyway.” He brings a hand to his chest and put on a nasally fancy tone, “Maybe we can revisit this topic when you’ve matured a bit, Number Five.”

Pancha gnashes her teeth together as a beaver. “You know what that’s code for.”

Five’s look is just as bitter as his daemon’s tone. He does know. Everyone knows. It’s a whole thing - people have weird ideas about what it means to settle. That it means, in some weird way, that it’s a transition into adulthood and responsibility.

How many hospital dramas and detective shows make it a point to draw attention to a child actor’s shifting daemon? How many true crime shows have grieving parents wailing about how the daughter or son wasn’t even settled yet, as though it might have been less of a tragedy if the kid’s daemon had been permanently stuck as a woodchuck. How many courtroom dramas have dismissed eyewitness testimony on the basis of the kid isn’t even settled yet.

Five and Pancha thinks it’s stupid, the emphasis put on settling. Thinks it’s dumb that he’s somehow considered less mature than a nine-year-old with a settled hedgehog daemon, even though he’s thirteen. But his age doesn’t matter. Just his daemon’s settled status.

“What if time travel fixes us.” Pancha proposes again, fluttering over to the desk in the form of a cardinal. “What if it helps. What if it’s what we need to - ”

Settle, she doesn’t say. Because to settle is to know yourself, and they don’t even know they extent of their powers.

Five shakes his hands out, blue sparks flying down his wrists as he does so. Anything to try and get the buzz out from under his skin.

“I’ll ask dad again tomorrow.” Five says finally, “And if he says no - ”

“Then we do it anyway.” Pancha is a coyote, lips pulled back in a wordless snarl before blue lightning runs down her form and she’s suddenly pressed against Five’s side.

“Then we do it anyway.” Five confirms, grim.

---

Time travel does not fix them.

Time travel breaks them.

They stand in the rubble of the end of the world, howling for their family with something that tastes like desperation on their lips, and no one answers. Dust swirls across the ground, glittering and gruesome as the smoke chokes the air from their lungs.

They claw through ruin until they find what they’re looking for, until Five shoves a piece of debris off of a face that belongs to a wrist with a black umbrella inked upon it, dark and final.

He finds Luther. He finds Allison, finds Diego, finds Klaus. He does not find their daemons.

Pancha is a falcon, is a racoon, is a wolf howling desperately into the crackling air, hoping, praying for an answer. But the only thing they hear are the quiet roar and crackles of the fires and their own footfalls.

It’s eerily quiet, at the end of the world. There’s no movie soundtrack, or screams, or howling winds. It’s just the pops of distant fires and the sound of rock across rock as their feet dislodge pieces of the wreckage.

“We can fix this.” Five says feverishly, “We have to go back.”

“It’s not working.” Pancha grits her teeth, pushing and pushing and pushing against the wall of their powers. It’s about as useful as trying to break down a brick wall with her shoulder.

“We’ll make it work.” Five vows, “We’ll go back. We’ll save them all.”

Pancha nods, equally grim and equally serious.

“What we need,” Pancha says slowly, sounding out each word. She has Five’s full attention on her, “Is an equation.”

Math isn’t something they technically need anymore. It’s a crutch from their younger days, something that soothes them and calms them and helps them focus. They can jump without it, their brain doing most equations automatically.

But when they’d first been figuring out their limits on distance, when they’d first figured out the differences between jumping in water and jumping in air - they’d used math. When they were figuring out time travel was possible, they’d looked at the math.

“Okay.” Five says, breathy and small and scared, “Okay.”

---

They don’t figure out until a week in that the buzzing under their skin is - not gone, but lesser somehow.

In their defense, they have a lot bigger things to worry about.

Five is scooping cold spaghetti-o’s directly into his mouth with a spoon he’d buffed against his shirt when he finally looks at Pancha and realizes that she’s been a barbary macaque for… hours now. She has a box of children’s sidewalk chalk by her side and is concentrating fiercely on writing while Five takes a break.

“Pancha - ” Five starts, and then finds himself at a loss for words when she looks up at him.

“Hmm?” She asks absently, little monkey face still scrunched up in concentration. Five can’t help but wonder when the last time Pancha stayed in one form long enough for him to pick up proper expressions from her face.

“...Never mind.” Five says, and watches Pancha turn back to her work.

They have more important things to worry about now anyway.

---

“This is a bad idea.” Pancha informs him, tongue lolling out the side of her mouth as she pants in the scorching heat. She’s a dingo today, has started experimenting with bigger and bigger forms.

(Five is seventeen-years-old. She still hasn’t settled.)

“We’re literally starving to death, Pan.” Five says dryly gripping bright packaging between thumb and forefinger like he would prefer not to be touching it himself, thanks. “Look, I definitely remember something about these things never going off.”

“That doesn’t sound right.” Pancha frowns, “But then again, I don’t know enough about twinkies to dispute it.”

They both look at the innocent little treat that Five has managed to unearth from inside of what looks like it used to be a child’s backpack. They don’t think about the child the backpack might have belonged to.

“Don’t those things have like, cream in them or something?” Pancha asks doubtfully, leaning forward to sniff the treat suspiciously, “Pretty sure anything with dairy in it went off like, years ago.”

“They’re like, 90% preservatives probably.” Five says, bringing it closer to his face so he can sniff it as well. “What do you think?”

“I think this is a terrible idea.” Pancha shrugs, which looks strange with a Dingo’s shoulders, “But then again, we are starving to death. Not sure we can afford to be picky.”

“We also can’t really afford to be sick.” Five points out sensibly.

They both take another pause to consider the twinkie.

“We’re so going to regret this.” Pancha sighs, laying down and putting her head on her paws. “But hey, if we die, we die.”

“We’re not going to die.” Five scolds her, peeling open the twinkie finally and giving it a distrustful look, “We totally aren’t going to regret this. Power of positive thinking, right?”

They absolutely regret it.

They don’t die, though.

---

The bright side of Pancha being unsettled is that she’s actually very useful in the apocalypse. She can take on the form of an elephant, acting as a one-daemon construction crew to clear out debris when they need a place to stay. She can run through the rubble as a mouse, squeezing through cracks in search of anything useful.

She takes the form of a chameleon, snagging insects from the air and offering them to Five when his skin starts looks paper thin and his ribs stick out prominently.

Pancha lays in the body of a tiger, curled around her human to protect him from the cold nip of the night air. The weather is turning, and soon enough there will probably be snow on the ground.

“We’re twenty-one this year.” Pancha says quietly.

Five hums, fingers twisted into her fur. “Five more years and then we’ll have officially been here longer than we were there.”

“Doesn’t matter how long it takes us.” Pancha says, squeezing her paws around his shoulders in warning, “We’re going to get back to them.”

Neither of them are sure they really believe it anymore, but oh how they want to.

They let the silence sit for a while between them before Five speaks up with a snort, “Not this one then?”

The question is almost an old joke at this point. Thirteen was a late bloomer. Sixteen was maybe-we-should-get-you-checked-out territory. Twenty-one was practically unheard of.

Pancha gives him a punishing lick with her sandpaper tongue over his forehead, making Five squawk with outrage. “Don’t ask questions you already know the answer to, idiot.”

“You know, calling me an idiot is really only calling yourself an idiot.” Five bites back, but they both know he’s not really offended. If he was, he wouldn’t still be cuddled into Pancha’s fur. Even their arguments are performative these days.

“I can call you scruffy without offending myself, I suppose.” Pancha says dryly, “What is wrong with your face.”

“If you can find a good razor kit in the apocalypse then be my guest.” Five says grumpily, but he ruins it by nuzzling his face into Pancha’s chest fur making her huff with laughter.

Pancha squishes him closer, mindful of her big paws and powerful muscles. But even in this form - her hip bones are too prominent and her ribs can easily be felt through her fur. They’ll go out scavenging again tomorrow, but for tonight they can just… lay here. Bask in one another’s company.

“Stop thinking so much.” Five draws his head back a little to sleepily scold his daemon, “You’re going to keep us both up.”

“Shut up then.” Pancha shoots back.

“Night, Pancha.” Five’s words are muffled against her fur, but she hears him loud and clear.

“Night, Five.” Pancha says softly.

---

Pancha hops tentatively through the first snow of the season, her white fur blending in well. “Five,” She says, not sure how she’s planning on following up.

“I know.” Five says quietly, reaching down to pick her up. She rubs her face under his chin comfortingly, feeling the scratch of his beard across her fur. “Happy birthday to us, I guess.”

“Twenty-six.” Pancha whispers.

“It was - it was 2019, right?” Five asks suddenly, “When the apocalypse happened?”

“April 1st, 2019.” Pancha confirms solemnly.

Five hums. “They’d have been, what, thirty?”

“It was still April.” Pancha corrects, shaking her head gently, “Our birthday is in October. They’d have still been twenty-nine.”

Five is very quiet for a long time, and Pancha keeps her own silence as they trudge through the wasteland. They’ve been doing a little better food-wise recently. They’ve discovered that while Five doesn’t get much out of Pancha eating, they get something out of it. She’s taken to wearing herbivorous forms and munching on grass and other plantlife where she can. The coming winter may make that trickier, though.

“If we go back before we hit thirty, we’d be about the same age.” Five says finally.

Pancha hums in agreement.

“But - ” Five hesitates, “We have to go back to, to before Ben dies, right?”

“They were what, sixteen?” Pancha taps at Five’s chest in a request to be put down, which he readily complies with. “Maybe we could get them out. Be the responsible adult.”

Five snorts, “Adopt our siblings?”

Pancha grins, “Hey, don’t tell me you wouldn’t enjoy the hell out of bossing Luther and Andromeda around.”

“We’ll see who’s the kid then.” Five chuckles before they both fall silent.

After all, Luther’s entire thing about Five being a brat was because - well. Pancha silently shifts into a husky with thick fur, coming over to nudge at Five’s leg as they walk side by side.

“We never really talked about what we’d do about - about me once we get back.” Pancha says carefully, warily.

They don’t need to change like they used to. Don’t shift between forms with the blink of an eye. They’re more solid now, Pancha tends to take a form for hours or entire days now unless she finds another form more useful to their current situation.

But they aren’t settled.

Five offers her a strained smile, “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

“Maybe if we get back, it’ll fix us.” Pancha offers, but her voice is soft and a little bit wistful. She doesn’t believe what she’s saying any more than Five does. They already travelled down that road before, and look where it got them.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.” Five repeats firmly, before his face softens a little bit, “Happy birthday, Pancha.”

“Happy birthday, Five.”

---

“Do you remember how old we are now?” Five whispers, his hair and his beard have gotten streaked with grey. Pancha’s not exactly a spring chicken herself anymore, allowing Five to card his fingers through the feathers in her wing and straighten them out.

“Too old.” Pancha complains, “What’s the point in keeping track anyway? It’s not like we know what day it is.”

“We should probably keep track in general.” Five sounds amused, “Gotta remember how far to go back after all.”

“Fuck it.” Pancha declares, nipping at Five’s fingers when he’s a tad rough with a tender spot, “Just overshoot. Either we’ll pop out when the family are babies, and we can just steal everyone, or we don’t and bam we’re right on track.”

“You’re suddenly finding a motherly bone in your body, somewhere?” Five removes his hands from her wings to brush them off on his pants. Pancha gives them an experimental flap or two. “I, for one, could not be paid enough to deal with a baby Diego. Can you imagine?”

“He’d have fantastic aim when he’d throw his toys at you.” Pancha snickers.

“Can you imagine baby Allison?” Five demands, and they look at each other for a heartbeat before they both break down into laughter.

“Oh my god,” Pancha gasps, burying her face into her own wing, “Can you imagine what she’d rumor? Everyday would be Disney world day and she would be the prettiest princess of all.”

“Ruling the world with an iron fist and a sparkly tiara.” Five manages to get out, his own face buried in his hands as he wheezes.

“Klaus would be right next to her, tiara and all.”

“Fuck you’re right.” Five laughs, a deep belly laugh they neither of them hear very much these days, “There would be so much glitter.”

That statement makes Pancha dissolve into giggles again where she was just getting control of herself.

“If we ever get back, I’m going to buy both of them the sparkliest tiaras available. No, wait. Gonna buy the whole family a bunch of those little kid birthday tiaras, and never explain why.” Five declares, grinning, “They’d be so confused.”

“When.” Pancha corrects, and the mood suddenly turns serious. “When we get back.”

Five doesn’t apologize, doesn’t sputter or claim it was just an error of speech. He just inclines his head a little bit and says, “Right. When we get back.”

---

They’re old and broken and creaky and tired when their endless days of bouncing math off of each other and testing at the boundary of the blue that stays frustratingly solid to them changes.

Five’s hair is entirely grey now, and his beard is long and scraggly where he hasn’t taken a knife to it in a while.

Pancha is a european hare and she’s the one that first senses danger.

The thing about living in the apocalypse, is that it’s quiet. There’s no hum of electric lights. There’s no brawls between stray cats or dogs. There’s no squirrels or rats or mice scurrying around.

So when Pancha’s sensitive ears pick up the sound of footsteps she feels such an intense sense of - of something that it makes Five drop his chalk and swing around to look at her with alarm.

She’s glad her form today is swift, because she’s across their little ‘camp’ in seconds and in his arms, clawing her way up to his shoulder to press her mouth to his ear, “There’s something out there.” She whispers, somehow terrified and she doesn’t know why.

To his credit, Five doesn’t even hesitate despite the impossibility of her words. He scoops her under one arm and turns and picks up the gun (they don’t talk about why they have a gun) with the other. He turns around and points it at -

A woman. They both freeze like deer in headlights.

“Hello!” The woman calls, picking her way down the debris in high heeled shoes.

“Five.” Pancha swallows, making her human look at her, “Five, where’s her daemon.”

Five’s head whips back around, and they both stare. It’s entirely possible that the woman’s daemon is just small, just out of sight and out of mind. It’s even possible that she’s a witch, and her daemon is off gallivanting about.

But Pancha can feel a scream trapped behind her teeth, feel her ears go back as she fights the urge to run run run away from this terrifying woman who tastes of empty empty empty. Something is wrong.

She can see the way Five’s fingers tremble as the sense of wrong wrong wrong reverberates through their bond.

“Who the hell are you!” Five snarls out, and Pancha takes the opportunity to squirm and wriggle so that she’s balanced precariously on Five’s shoulder, freeing up his other hand to steady the gun.

“I’m here to help.” The woman says brightly, still picking her way towards them.

“Five.” Pancha whimpers, and as she feels her paws tremble she watches his hands go still and steady.

“Tell me why I shouldn’t just put a bullet through your head right now.” Five raises the gun further, but the woman doesn’t even hesitate.

“Because,” The woman says, smiling a carefree smile as she adjusts her hat and pulls her sunglasses from her face. “Then you wouldn’t hear the offer I’m about to make you.”

Five and Pancha are more tense than they’ve ever been before in their lives, and considering some of their childhood missions - that’s saying a lot.

“Which would be rather tragic given your…” The woman looks around and even though she doesn’t look disgusted the implication is there anyway which makes them both bristle, “...Current circumstances. I work for an organization called the Commission. We are tasked with the preservation of the time continuum through manipulation and removals.

“Why are you telling us this.” Five manages to grit out, never letting his gun drop.

The woman just looks at him like he’s a child and she’s disappointed he asked such an obvious question.

“I’ve come to offer you a job, Number Five.” She says simply.

They don’t miss the way she only offered the job to him, not to Pancha.

There’s a lot after that. The woman explains that she wants to hire him - them - to, to eliminate threats to time caused by humanity’s free will. She tells him that her organization has had their eye on him. That he has potential. That Five can retire with a pension plan for the low low price of his soul.

Well, he’s paraphrasing.

She at least allows him a moment of privacy to discuss things with his daemon, telling him that she will be back in an hour to pick him up and that he should take the time to gather what possessions he wishes to take with him. She seems awfully confident he will take her deal.

“She doesn’t have a daemon.” Pancha shudders against him, “She’s so empty inside. She scares me, Five.”

“I know.” Five says, smoothing his hands over her fur comfortingly, “But - Pan, the chance to get out. If they know how to properly time travel - ”

“Then we can finally get out of here.” Pancha says softly, longingly. “It’s been so long, Five.”

“I know.” He whispers.

“She wants us to kill for her.” Pancha tells him, “Removing the problems - she just wants us to become an assassin. She wants us to be a weapon.”

“Would we kill to get our siblings back?” Five asks, but it’s a rhetorical question. They both know that they’d probably let the world burn all over again if only it meant saving the people most important to them.

“We’d have food.” Pancha offers finally, “If it’s a job, we’ll have money. No more scavenging. We could focus more time on, on - you know.”

Five nods solemnly, “So, do we take the job?”

A shudder ripples through Pancha’s body, “What about me, Five?”

“What about you?” Five asks, brow furrowing.

“I’m not normal.” Pancha states tightly, watching Five’s face light up in comprehension. It’s been a long time since they discussed Pancha’s ability to shift. After so many years, it almost seems normal. “She’s already seen me as a hare. So do I just - pretend to be a hare?”

Five bites his lip, “Just until we figure out how to get back.”

They both know that’s not a real answer. They both have no idea what they’re going to do when they show up, old and decrepit and still unsettled.

“She can’t know.” Five says, because at least that much is certain. “She doesn’t have a daemon. She can’t know.”

Pancha sighs, but they both already know what their choice is going to be. “Okay. Okay let’s become assassins.”

---

They’re in a hotel room, and Pancha shifts a few times just to prove she can. She likes being a hare, but sometimes it just gets itchy. Wrong. Sometimes she needs wings, or fangs, or something.

She feels like she needs fangs a lot around the Handler. Or like she needs to be something small, like a mouse and curl up in Five’s pockets again to hide away. Usually she just hides behind Five and lets him deal with the woman, which is perhaps unfair of her but Five hasn’t protested yet.

(Actually, Pancha doesn’t speak to anybody. Not after the doctor and his capuchin daemon looked entirely scandalized when she addressed him instead of his daemon. Apparently missing out on socialization for an estimated forty-five years led to… some not so great manners.)

Five methodically cleans his gun as Pancha shifts from a lion to a gazelle to a pallas cat and back into a hare to jump onto the bed with him.

“Today?” She asks him.

He looks up at her and frowns, his hands pausing.

“Something feels different. More right.”

Five tilts his head a little bit in though and then nods. He’s been quiet, since they got back. When they’re alone together at least. The opposite of Pancha. Sometimes she wonders if they’re just switching off, the way they do when it comes to shows of emotion sometimes.

Pancha crawls into his lap, nudging at his hands until they put the gun aside and bury themselves in her fur.

“We’re going to save the world, Five.” She says, projecting as much confidence as she can into her voice, as much confidence as she can into him. “We’re going to save them all.”

Five’s hands tremble in her fur, and they both politely pretend that they don’t.

“You aren’t going to do this alone, because you have me. We’re a team.” She cranes her head back so she can offer him a smile, “Team Adaptable, right?”

“Right.” Five rasps out, touching the silver patches in her fur.

And then they get up, and move out. They’re on a mission now.

#daemon au #yeAH #long post #far tua long #i started writing it and then got super busy oops #but this probably would have been the first chapter #just establishing five and pancha as the main characters #and their whole relationship #and what it means that pancha is unsettled and why she hides it #there's a level of shame involved in a world that treats settled as matured #i'm 100% sure there are parties thrown when a kids daemon settles #like it's a BIG deal in this au #and they don't want to settle because they're so adaptable #but they also desperately want to fit in rip #the handler does not have a daemon and pancha is terrified of her #dolores is not super necessary in this au bc they have each other #i only have like six and a half more google doc pages written tbh #and they're not great bc writing the coming back was awkward #me: i struggle with juggling a lot of characters in a scene #daemon au: oh? double the amount of characters you said?#Anonymous

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omgreally · 4 years

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The Apprentice Read on AO3

Pairing: Din Djarin/F!Reader Rating: E for Explicit, Of Course Wordcount: 5k+ Summary: Peli Motto took you off the streets of Tatooine to become one of the best apprentices she's ever had - but honestly, the DUM droids are setting the bar pretty low. Still, you work out well for the first few months until an armored Mandalorian stranger lands with a busted-up ship and a strange magic baby and, well, you're intrigued. Even though you know you shouldn't be. Peli's always teling you to keep away from anything hot but sometimes, to fix something, you have to stick your hand straight into the fire.

Chapter One - The Arrival

“Hey, Peli! We got some hunk o’ junk requesting to land. Want me to tell him where to shove his rusty old comm signal?”

The older woman cranes over your shoulder as you swivel in the rickety chair in front of the array of control and communication panels. You’ve been working at Hangar Three-Five for a few months now, and you know it takes all sorts of ‘customers’ to keep a place like this running - but honestly. You’re surprised the wreck requesting the bay can even fly.

You’re even more surprised when Peli takes one look at the screen and shoves you out of the chair, hastily pressing the transmit button.

“Clearin’ you to land, Razor Crest,” she says hurriedly. “Sorry for the delay.” She takes her hand off the button and straightens to glare at you. “Never assume like that again, Girl,” she says, using your least favourite nickname for you. “That hunk o’ junk just might be my favorite customer.”

You gape at her as you brush off your coveralls. “You serious, Peli? I mean - are you sure, ma’am? I couldn’t even see a transponder code from that...vessel.” You choose your words a bit more carefully now, reminded that while Peli has a heart of gold, she has the temper of a Tusken.

“I’ve been workin’ in this hangar since you were a babe sucklin’ at your momma, Girl,” Peli says, pointing a wrench at you. “You’d do well to listen to me more’n you do.”

“Sorry, ma’am,” you sigh, looking down at the ground.

“Now, go on to the market, why don’tcha, and pick us up somethin’ for dinner. You may have a head thick as bantha hide, Girl, but at least you’re better at negotiating than the Dums.” You wince. You know you’re just an apprentice, but damn if it doesn’t sting whenever Peli compares you to the droids.

It’s not that you don’t like them. They just...creep you out a little. Soulless little machines, scuttling around as if they’re alive when they’re just - not. Whoever invented droids was one sick carosi pup.

Peli hands you a pouch of credits - the amount of which is dwindling daily. You wonder if the engineer’s eagerness to house this beaten-up old scupper doesn’t have something to do with their lack of funds. You consider offering to forego your wages until things are better - Peli has shown you incredible kindness, taking you in off the street when your next best bet was working as a dancing girl in one of Mos Eisley’s less reputable cantinas. Who knew where you woul’dve ended up after that. You prefer this, even though it’s hard, physical work, and you’re often up to your elbows in engine grease and covered head to toe in grime and oil.

Who knew starships were so dirty.They make sense, though, and you quickly proved that you had an aptitude for it. For pulling things apart and putting them back together again, but working. You’ve fixed busted motivators and blown capacitors that even left Peli scratching her head. You suppose that, rather than sentimentality, is why she keeps you around.

Either way, your life is pretty comfortable, now. Boring, but comfortable. You hope the credits situation isn’t going to change that.

How little you know.

---

You wander through the market, credits pouch too light in your pocket as you peruse the food stalls. You really don’t feel like dried krayt jerky a hundredth night in a row, so you’re glad Peli sent you out, but you are struggling to find something that is a) appealing and perhaps more importantly, b) affordable.

You end up in a heated argument - no, discussion - with a Toydarian over some deep-fried gorg before you give up, your temper and your impatience too piqued to settle on a decent price. You calm yourself with a trip past a stall selling all manner of imported cloth and fabrics: beautiful, delicate things, things you are not. A scarf made of deep blue silk that shimmers iridescent in the harsh sunlight catches your eye. You pause, running your fingers over it, your dirty, chipped nails a contrast to the smooth, satiny surface.

“It would suit you, pretty girl,” says a deep, male voice. You look up into the eyes of the stallholder. He’s a surprisingly handsome man, tall, with dark skin and hair and muscles bulging from a vest that seems tactically selected to show off as much of his bare chest as possible. For someone selling fabric, he’s certainly not wearing a lot of it.

“Sorry,” you say, taking your hand back. “I haven’t got enough credits for something like that.” The ‘pretty girl’ rankled you. You’re aware, tangentially, that underneath the layers of grease and oil you have features that some might consider comely, even attractive, and your body was good enough to catch the attention of some of the seedier businessmen when you were on the street. But it is the assumption itself that you are nothing more than your face and your body that bothers you.

“Suit yourself, gorgeous,” he calls after you as you walk away, back towards the smell of roasting meat. “I’ll be here if you change your mind!”

You grab a few deep-fried gorg from the Toydarian after all, a bottle of blue milk, and head back to the hangar in a thoughtful mood.

---

The ship has already landed by the time you get back.

It looks like it’s falling apart at the seams. In fact, you can spot several missing panels from the ground. Up close, you’re even more astonished that it managed to fly.

The ramp is stuck half-down, and you stand on your tiptoes to peer inside. It doesn’t look much better in there than on the outside. Dingy durasteel, crates all over the place, pathetic excuse for a hold, really. How can this be Peli’s ‘favourite customer’? It looks like it needs a complete teardown. Not even a rebuild, just...tear it down. It’s not even worthy to be a garbage hauler, it’s only suitable to be the garbage getting hauled. It-

“Like what you see?”

You almost drop the bags of food and produce and manage to avoid most of it flying everywhere, save for a single pale blue pika fruit that escapes and rolls across the ground to land against the stranger’s boot. You scuttle forward to grab it, and your hand is intercepted by a gloved one, yellow fingers closing around the fruit and lifting it from your view.

You straighten and look up, up, up into the Beskar helm of a Mandalorian.

“Oh,” you say in a very small voice. Now you understand.

You’ve heard and seen tales of Mandalorians - quite a legendary one lived here for a time, not that long ago - and some of those tales were from Peli herself. She’d never mentioned that she knew one, though.

This one is about the same as you imagine a Mandalorian to be. Armored from head to toe, no part of him visible, his eyes shielded by the inscrutable blackness of the T-shaped visor in his helm.

He can probably see everything, though, from your heartbeat down to the anxious flush in your skin as he steps toward you and says “Here.” He slips the pika fruit back into your bag and you nod, swallowing the sudden lump in your throat.

“Thanks.”

You stand there awkwardly for a moment while he just stares at you, as if he’s a droid himself, scanning you up and down through that damn visor. You clear your throat and cock your hip, placing your hand on it and raising your eyebrows.

“Is this your ship”?” You tap your knuckles against the hull behind you, miraculously not making another panel or part fall off. “What did you do to it?

“What?” His stance changes a little; he stands up a little straighter, his shoulders set, his hands hanging down by his sides with a little more purpose than before. Posturing, you think, that’s all it is, although you’re now a little nervous as you answer.

Because he is broad. Broad and well-built, if the fit of the armor is anything to go by. He could crush your head like a pika fruit without even trying.

Still, it has to be said, for a ship like that...“It looks like it’s about to fall apart,” you say, trying for diplomatic, but by tempering your vehemence it just sounds like you’re complaining.

The Mandalorian shrugs. “That’s why I brought it here.”

“Well, Peli is the best mechanic on Mos Eisley,” you capitulate, and you relax a little, enough to walk past him towards the control room. “I’m just surprised she’s not so picky with her clientele.”

“From what I hear, she can’t afford to be.” That stops you in your tracks. The Mandalorian has followed you, of course, and he’s right behind you as you enter the building and head to the kitchenette to put away dinner.

“You shouldn’t listen to everything you hear, Mandalorian,” you say as you unpack the bag of measly meat, fruit and vegetables you managed to get. It goes all in the cooler for a later barbeque. That is one of the things you enjoy most about being here - sitting with Peli in front of a makeshift campfire, cooking and talking. Not about anything in particular, just...talking.

“Well, if I’m wrong, I can just take my ships and my credits elsewhere,” the Mandalorian says with a shrug. It’s then you notice that he has a pouch he’s holding up, and it hangs heavy and clinks promisingly when it moves. You lick your lips nervously, hoping you’re not about to fuck up some big deal Peli has struck with this bounty hunter warrior.

Hoping you’re not about to be shot by this bounty hunter warrior.

“For example, I know the upkeep costs around here have risen recently,” he says, letting the pouch sway back and forth, and your eyes follow it like hypnosis. “Thanks to Peli taking on an apprentice…”

You sigh. “How much?”

“Five thousand.”

You do some quick maths in your head. “Might not cover any major components that need replacing, but it’s a start. You’ll have a vacuum seal again at least.”

“Good.” The Mandalorian tosses you the pouch and you catch it with both hands. It feels heavier than five thousand, but you’ll give it to Peli first. Speaking of - where the hell is Peli?

“There, how does that feel? Look at you, who’s a handsome li’l womp rat? You are!”

You have never heard Peli talk to anyone like that. You and the Mandalorian follow the sound of her voice out into the control room, and you find her cradling what looks like a small, wrinkled green baby, a creature with the face of a frog and ears of a bat, slightly damp and wrapped in what looks like-

“Is that - my shirt?” you ask, horrified. The creature blinks and coos at you.

“Had to give Grogu here a bath and I didn’t have any clean towels. So I borrowed your shirt. Look how cute he looks in it!” Peli tries to hand you the creature but you step out of the way. This is not how you saw your day going.

“Look, the Mandalorian here wants us to fix his ship,” you say. “He’s giving us five thousand.” You set the pouch down on the control panel. “I’m pretty sure it can be done, but if there are any busted capacitors or modulators that need fixing, that bill’s gonna go way up.”

“It’ll do,” Peli nods. “Meantime, I’ll look after this little guy. You even give him a bath last time I saw you? Don’t answer that, Mando.” Mando. So that’s what they call him. He doesn’t even have a name, just a shortening of his title.

“Guess I’ll get to work on the ship,” you grumble, rolling your eyes as you head back out into the hot Tattooine suns. Boring but comfortable. Yeah, right.

---

If this generates some interest I may continue to post chapters here! Otherwise, go ahead and read on AO3.

#the mandalorian fanfic #din djarin/reader #din djarin x female reader #mando x you #the apprentice

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sailor-manga · 4 years

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“Pika?” a Denki Kaminari drabble.

A/N: This is the last one tonight, I promise lmfao. @queensynderella got to talking about Denki in a dress and boom- Had to do it. <3

Warnings: Smut [Kind of], Cross dressing.

It had taken months to devise a plan, but soon you knew exactly how to execute it. Today was your birthday, and your loving boyfriend Denki Kaminari had done what any good boyfriend would do.

He took you out to a lovely dinner, got the most gorgeous bracelet you’ve ever seen, and what was the cutest part? The bracelet had a little lightning bolt charm, so you could think of him every time you looked at it.

The night was closing in though, you both ended up at your apartment, sipping wine and watching random movies on the television. “Hey, Denki?..” you say softly, looking towards him with a sly smile on your face.

“What is it babe?” he asked with a bright smile on his face, his arm slipping around your shoulders to pull you in tightly.

“There is just.. One more thing that would make this birthday absolutely amazing” you would say, slowly standing up and digging in a bag you had on the side of the couch.

Denki would watch you with a close eye as you rustled around but finally surfaced with a bright yellow outfit. Immediately his smile would fade and a bright blush would dress his cheeks.

“Do you think.. You would put this on for me?” you ask with a smirk.

Swallowing hard he would slowly stand as well, taking the outfit from your hands to hold it up.

It was a Pikachu leotard fitted with a cute little pleated skirt and a tail attached “H-Hahah.. You’re joking right?” he asked innocently, but the look on your face proved this was in fact, no joke.

“Oh come on, babe.. Isn’t there anything else you want?” he asked nervously.

Biting your lip, you’d step closer and run a hand through his hair and lean forward to press your lips against his ear, making him shudder “This is all I want, you’d look so cute.. And it would get me so hott” you purred in his ear.

It seemed that was all he needed, standing up straight he would nod “R-Really? Anything for you!” he said quickly before ushering himself off to the bathroom.

You would sit back down on the couch with a victorious smile on your face as your boyfriend dressed in the “cosplay”.

After a moment, you would hear his voice “B-Babe.. It’s on” he called from down the hall. Perking up, you would bite your lip “Come out here then!” you chimed happily.

After a moment, you boyfriend walked into the living room, red as an apple.

The sight was definitely something to see, he looked so cute with his hands in front of his cock, hiding the fact that he might be enjoying this.

Standing again, you would bend over and grab one more thing out of the bag,a set of Pikachu ears “One last thing” you chimed, practically skipping over to him and sliding them on his head. “Well? Do you like it?” he asked, very obviously aiming to please, hoping he achieved to turn you on.

“Hmm.. Something is missing, take a few steps back” you ordered, and almost immediately he obeyed.

Tilting your head some, you couldn’t hide your smile now “Now say.. Pika pika” you said crossing your arms some and waiting.

He didn’t seem to answer right away, he looked much too flustered to speak.

“Aw, come on baby.. Would this help?” you asked, lifting up your shirt to reveal your circular tits fitting snug in a bra he happened to get you, laced and black.

Staring at your tits, he would swallow and quickly hold up his hands cutely to his cheeks to hide his blush “P-Pika Pika!” he chirped out before quickly covering his dick once again.

Smirking some, you would finally close the distance between you two, you would pull him in for a rather steamy make out, your tongue quickly pushing past his lips, making him moan out and grab your hips, pulling them towards his own groin so you could feel how hard his cock was under the skirt. “Oh.. So you were enjoying this?” you ask with a smirk, which in turn caused Denki to pull you close once again, silencing all words as your tongues wrestled one another.

After the kiss broke, he would look away with a blush “I-I’ll do this whenever you want, just don’t tell anyone, okay?” he muttered out shyly, which made you smile wide.

“Of course baby, our little secret” you whispered out, pulling him into your bedroom.

#bnha denki #bnha kaminari #mha denki #mha kaminari #bnha x reader #mha x reader #denki kaminari #denki x reader #bnha smut #mha smut

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goldeneyedgirl · 4 years

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TwiFicMas20 Day 4: Daemons

Greetings! I hope everyone is having a less profoundly irritating day than I am. Also, migraine :(

Today I bring you a Daemon-verse fic, ala His Dark Materials. Whilst I love the idea of animal souls, and I love Daemon fic, I have never read or see His Dark Materials, so if I’ve messed up on the laws of daemons, I apologise.

It was intended to follow Alice from awakening through to around her discovery of her past, but I’m honestly on the fence about how the final version will shape up.

The list of daemons is below the cut, which might be spoilery but I think it’s easier to envisage what’s happening when you know what each daemon looks like.

Onwards! (And thank you for reading!)

Cast

Alice – Milo - ??

Jasper – Lula – grey wolf

Rosalie – Beauregarde – white mink

Emmett – Allegra - Sun bear

Esme – Pax – Tree pangolin

Carlisle – Winnie – Giant Anteater

Edward - Khalida - Owl

Bella – Egil - Crane

One.

She wakes up in the mud, curled into a ball. Beetles are crawling through her hair, and there is mud – and blood? – dried all down one side of her.

He was curled against the small of her back, and clung to the ragged gown she was wearing as she sat up, blinking confused ruby-coloured eyes.

She does not recognise him at all, does not even know her own name, and he is terrified of her blood-coloured eyes, and what she has become. She has been born anew, and what she doesn’t remember cannot hurt her. She is bright and cheerful and giddy in a way that she has never been before.

“What are you?” she asks eagerly, kneeling before him, smiling.

“I’m you. You’re me. I’m… your soul,” he explains, and her lips into a surprised ‘o’.

“What is your name?” is her next question, one that breaks his heart.

“Milo,” he says. “Me-lo.”

“And I’m …Alice?” she says, suddenly uncertain.

“Yes. You’re my Alice.”

She scoops him up and kisses his nose, and for the first time, he thinks they might be okay.

Two.

They are wrong, and she doesn’t even know it.

He tries to talk about it, weeks after she awakens as a red-eyed monster.

“I used to be a mouse,” he says suddenly, as they make their way through the forest.

“Really?” she looks intrigued.

“Yes.”

He hasn’t settled. He can feel his skin alight with energy and possibility, and he worries. She was sent away before he ever settled, and then everything happened to them.

Are they broken?

When she asks, he denies remembering ‘much’ from before she woke, remembering their names and the fact that he was a small white mouse with grey ears, which she accepts without question.

He is lying.

He remembers most of everything that happened to them. And whilst he hates her red eyes, and watching her feast on the stray humans that cross their path, he adores this cheerful, joyous self.

She steals a dress in the next town they cross through, a yellow gingham with ties at the back and a pocket big enough for him to ride in, that seems to swallow her up. She keeps the filthy, ratty hospital gown she was found in, wearing it like a cape, until she steals a bag. She carries it in there, along with a little notebook and a pencil, a second dress (dark blue wool, just as stolen.)

She finds a piece of blue ribbon one night, and ties it loosely around his neck, stroking his soft fur, and cradles him, her face so happy.

If this is broken, they’ll be okay.

Maybe.

Three.

They have a peaceful existence for twenty-eight years. They stay in the forests, only sneaking into small towns to steal after she learns that she can hunt wild animals instead of humans. That makes him feel better about what she’s become.

Everything is wonderful to her - the flowers, the weather, whatever her latest outfit is. She would sit for hours, watching a spider spin a web, or sit in the branches of a tree, watching birds build nests, utterly transfixed.

The dreams that made her family turn away from her have become fulling fledged visions of the future, ones that seize her without rhythm or warning. Those visions are for her mind only, though she shares every detail with him - including that of the vampire she calls Jasper.

He’s worried about how she speaks about Jasper, about the look on her face when she’s thinking of him. But Alice promises him that Jasper will only mean good things - like the Cullens.

“We’ll have a family, Milo!” she beams, lying in the soft grass next to a river, stroking him. “A mother and a father and brothers and a sister!”

She had a mother and a father and a sister, and they turned her into this, he wants to say, but he doesn’t. He tucks their lost history in the back of his heart and tries not to worry.

He’s sorrier than he can say when their solitude ends, and they slide into Philadelphia. They break into a hotel room to wash, and Alice seems giddy with excitement; then to a shop where Alice tries on a dozen dresses, and stuffs the toes of a pair of shoes so that they fit properly. She twirls in the mirror, and she’s beautiful. She even steals a bag, little brush and some new ribbon for him, so that he can be fancy too.

“We have to make a good impression,” she informs him, as she pockets a gold tube of lipstick and then some gold hairpins. “It’s our fate."

Their date with destiny goes to plan, though Milo wishes that he had been able to see the visions, to be prepared. This ‘Jasper’ is not just anyone; he’s over six feet tall, with dozens of overlapping scars, black eyes and lank blonde hair. He’s not particularly bulky, but every movement reveals his strength and skill; he practically emits violence - as does the mangy grey wolf at his side.

But Alice doesn’t flinch, doesn’t falter. She gets up and goes to him, her eyes full of him before he ever knows her name. Milo just huddles in her stolen handbag, his ribbon drooping, and waits.

Somehow the impossible happens and Jasper takes Alice’s hand. The wolf - Lula, Jasper calls her - huffs, and Alice scoops up her bag and they walk out into the drizzly night together.

Four.

She doesn’t tell Jasper about them, about how wrong they are. He’s told her before, gently, but she really doesn’t understand, and so it isn’t important. It’s up to him to worry and plan and watch.

Lula keeps her distance, and her eyes see everything. Every odd statement, every little mistake that reveals how broken they truly are. But Lula is not cruel or unkind - she is simply wary, and as more pieces of Jasper’s story comes out, Milo understands why.

The worst day is the one Alice spies a fawn drinking at a stream and stuffs him into Jasper’s hands before taking off.

Jasper audibly gasps, and he flinches but Alice doesn’t even look back.

Milo flickers in and out, and the sugar-glider form vanishes, leaving behind the grey and white mouse form.

“She doesn’t understand,” he manages to tell Lula, trying not to shake at the feeling of Jasper’s hands cradling him, at the faint pulling as Alice strains their link.

Lula whines, and Jasper looks at him carefully, and follows Alice. Her hunt is successful, blood on her mouth, and she beams up at them all without seeing the pity, the new understanding in their eyes. Instead, she splashes some water on her face, and reaches out for him, letting him run up her arm and tuck himself under the collar of her dress. Then she tucks her arm through Jasper’s and smiles up at him.

He wonders, later, if she truly doesn’t understand how broken then are.

Or she just doesn’t care.

Five.

The Cullens seem nice, and Esme is enchanted by Milo, currently a meerkat, who likes high places.

But he worries. So does Jasper. And the Cullens are surprised by the way Lula trails after Alice – the separation is a strain on both Jasper and Lula, but one they bear without flinching to make sure Alice is safe. But Alice and Jasper are connected in a special way, and Alice always jerks slightly when she realises that Lula has stretched as far from Jasper as they can tolerate, always apologetic at her ignorance. She knows that the pull other people experience when separated from their daemons is much more painful than when she and Milo seperate.

She doesn’t ask why, she just accepts it. Sometimes he wonders if she knows, in her heart of hearts, how much they suffered. How there’s no pain now because they ran through all of it - and then some - in the Before.

And then two things go terribly wrong. They are there only a week or so before there is a family hunting trip. He rides in the pocket of Alice’s new coat, and he wants to pretend everything is fine but he can feel the energy under his skin, twitchy and static.

He climbs out and scrambles up her shoulder, around her neck and back again – trying to burn off the manic energy.

He hears her voice – for his ears only. “It’s okay, Milo. Don’t force it.”

He knows. They aren’t settled, it’s going to happen eventually, and they’re going to know.

She still doesn’t understand that they will be ostracised for such a thing. Not Jasper’s warlike history, not his slip-ups, not her gift, but because they are deformed freaks.

It happens with a crack as he hits the ground – from meerkat to pika. He hears Rosalie’s hiss of horror, of gasps and growls at the unexpected shift and he scrambles back to Alice’s ankles, where she scoops him up tenderly.

“Better?” she asks out-loud, gently scratching his neck. He just nuzzles in.

The Cullens are horrified. A splayed-out corpse would be less obscene, less of a tragedy than a vampire with an unsettled daemon.

Jasper is glowering at them, Lula’s glare dark as well. The message is clear - do not draw attention to this. Do not upset them.

Esme’s Pax and Carlisle’s Winnie are both upset, curling together, fear in their eyes. Beau tucks himself deeper into Rosalie’s hair.

Alice looks back up, still happy, still ignorant and no one breathes a word.

The second time, it is an accident, it is instinct and it is terrifying. Jasper and Emmett are wrestling, and Alice is perched on a rock, jeering at Emmett’s attempts to pin Jasper. The rest of the family is nearby – enjoying the peace of the forest.

Emmett and Allegra are nice, and he trusts them. He does.

But Emmett looks at them with a glint and lunges, grabbing Alice around the arms and flinging her over his shoulder with a victorious roar.

A prankster, a gentle giant, a consummate big brother – all things Milo knows about Emmett. But there is a flash of unease in Alice’s mind that he’s not sure she is even aware of, and the way he grabs her is so reminiscent of how they would drag her away back at the asylum… the way she would cry…

Jasper and Lula are pissed, too, but they are a blur as he lunges – a two-pound meerkat that shifts into an almost-seven hundred pound Siberian Tiger that roars at Emmett, whose eyes are as wide as saucers.

Rosalie is shrieking, Esme is clutching Carlisle and Alice is bewildered, but holding her hands out in an attempt to placate him, still upside down on Emmett’s shoulder.

Lula is suddenly at his side, looking tiny and delicate against his new form (and it is entirely new. He’s never been a predator before, never been too big to carry). He growls at her but it is not a threat, but an expression of fear at the way Emmett grabbed at Alice, at that tiny flash in the back of her mind that remembered their suffering.

“Put Alice down, Emmett.” Edward is there, calm and collected. “You startled them. Jasper, can you calm them?”

As soon as Alice’s feet hit the ground, Jasper is by his side, stroking his head and pushing peace and security onto him. Alice is there, too, her arms around his neck and her face buried in his fur. Rosalie and Allegra are clinging to Emmett, who looks shell-shocked.

Esme and Carlisle are having a quick conversation, too low for anyone else to hear.

“I’m sorry, Alice, Milo. I didn’t mean to scare you,” Emmett’s apology is unexpected in the tense silence, and is genuine. His voice is steady and he is sympathetic; Rosalie is giving them murderous looks.

He looks at Emmett for awhile before resting his giant head against Alice’s, his eyes closing and a loud huff leaving his body.

“Don’t be afraid,” she whispers to him. “We’re safe here. I promise.”

He wishes he could believe her.

#TwiFicMas20 #FicMas20 #alice cullen #jasper whitlock #alice and jasper #daemons #jalice #my fic #my fic: daemons #Cullen Family #his dark materials #crossover fic #twilight fic #twilight renaissance #validate me #wip

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imgonnaketchumall · 3 years

Text

Ash carefully touches his marks under his cheek. He doesn't look at the mirror, fingers doing phantom traces of the lines underneath. His mind is racing, and the thoughts of the phantom scars haunt him.

He's supposed to be better. He's supposed to be happier, have it easier, not be like t h i s. He's confessed his his demons to those who listened, those who he trusts, who won't leave.

He bites at his lip as he tugs the cap off the liquid foundation. He shouldn't. He's gotten better. He went out in public. But it's all lies.

they can see through you

Ash scribbles the liquid foundation over his cheeks and face, using the old sponge as a tool to hide his marks. The lines still seem visible as he scrubs and places the liquid on thicker.

The door is knocked and the boy makes a mumble, a soft cry that hes busy and that he should go the fuck away.

Wet brown eyes meet the reflection, eyeing the harsh combination of black into purple. The purple falls to his shoulders, the longest he's ever let his hair get. His eyes squeeze shut and he thinks of Alola.He thinks of the warming embrace of Kukui, of Brock, of Burnet, Gary--

He reaches for the rotom phone, tempted to call the spikey brunette he calls his boyfriend. He doesn't, not wanting to show his face. Not wanting to admit his weakness.

He pushes his back against the wall, the tiny voice of his partner echoing in his ears. He clutches at his face, nail marks scraping at the makeup that once hid the marks.

I can't

The words repeat over and over like a mantra I can't I can't i can't i can't

The phone buzzes as Ash ignores it.

"Ha, a twerpy runt is all you'll ever be--"

He's heard the words countless times, but for some reason the words sink in, they sink in and he doesn't want them to.

"Little Ashton, Prince of Kanto--"

He eyes the glossy look in the shine of the floor. Pikachu tilts his head, going to press his fuzzy body to the pressure points in the boy's lap.

Lucario senses something and pops out of his ball. "Lu, lu cario, lu," the pokemon says, looking at the raven haired with confusion.

"Pika!" Pikachu chats to the other, and in a flash the pokemon is back in it's ball. Pikachu has seen that look before, and his eyes go dark as he uses his tail to knock down the rotom phone.

its your fault

you almost destroyed the world

didn't she say good boys don't battle???

Pikachu uses little paws to poke the phone until a contact comes up.

"Pika pi," his cries are soft, urgent. The mouse looks at the screen of who he called.

#Pokemon Master (self)#[is this open??? idk]#[i've been reading too much angst fanfics]#[i suppose it makes most sense in rowdy boys since its harsher but???]#[idk]#drabble thing

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letswritefanfiction · 4 years

Text

New Pokémon oneshot series! Mistakes Were Made.

A series of disconnected oneshots that poke fun at the fandom hivemind, canon, and past!me. I’m taking things that I’ve either observed or done myself and reframing them in parody where hopefully we can just all have some low stakes fun and, at best, maybe learn something about our favorite characters and writing.

Chapter One- Addiction: Redux

Summary: Once upon a time, an enterprising, young fanfiction authoress wrote the first chapter for her years-long alphabet challenge, and it sucked. Six years later, she makes a whole story devoted to making fun of it.

"Ash, Ash, Ash!"

Ash felt a tingle go up—or down?—his spine at the sound of his name. But not the good kind. He currently had a packaged cookie in his mouth and was reaching for a second one, but knew that wasn't why his name was being called. No, Misty's voice was farther away, there was no way she was in sight of the kitchen, watching him pilfer her snack cookies from the cabinet.

Pikachu filled him a glass of water so that he could swallow the evidence as soon as possible and then he walked towards where the sound had come from.

Misty's office.

That's where the dread came in.

If he'd heard her exclaim his name like that from somewhere else in the Gym, he might have thought it was Pokémon-related and he probably would have been too excited to remember to cover his tracks with the cookies. But in the time he'd spent in the Misty's Gym since becoming a couple, he knew that only bad things lay behind those doors.

Usually those bad things were nothing more malignant than paperwork and maybe an overworked, slightly cross-eyed Misty. Nothing he wasn't used to. But excitement…that probably meant that she wasn't working. Exciting paperwork could in theory be something like a grant, but he probably would have heard about that. And would probably remember it. Maybe. But since he didn't, he had to assume it was something much more sinister.

She'd found something on the Internet.

"Do I have to, Pikachu?" he whispered as he approached the door.

"Pika chu," Pikachu nodded, pushing his Trainer forward and then making a run for it. Coward.

"Hey, Mist," Ash said with false cheer as he came into the dark room. The sun had set maybe an hour or two ago—Ash didn't pay attention to those things well when he wasn't on the road—and Misty had yet to turn any lamps on. But her face was heavily illuminated with the cold, blue glow of her computer monitor, which she was staring unblinkingly at.

"Hey, babe," she said, always more comfortable with the pet names than he was. He'd get there someday. Maybe. She was just 'Misty' in his head! He couldn't help it. "Check this out."

Her voice was slightly maniacal as she pointed to the screen full of words in front of her. Gee, Ash's favorite. He rolled his eyes. He had a sinking feeling what this was about.

"Look at this terrible fanfiction!"

"Is it about you and me?" he deadpanned.

"Yes, and it's terrible! I mean, I'm pretty cute in it, but you're so OOC I can't help but cackle."

And cackle she did. Then, she began to read it out loud:

"Misty was nothing if not true to her word," she began, her voice taking on the lilt of a storyteller's. "I am that. Have I ever lied to you?"

"Probably wouldn't date you if you had," Ash said, wanting this experience to be over as soon as possible. He didn't have an especially good relationship with reading in the first place, but reading about himself…ew, there was just something icky about it. Especially since Misty had shown him…certain stories.

Misty continued. "Today, Ash found himself sitting in an uncomfortable plastic seat, the kind that he hadn't had to deal with since grade school. This one was missing the foot off of one of the corners, so Ash spent his time rocking from side to side—okay, that part is like you," Misty said, interrupting the story. "You've definitely done that before. So let's skip to the bad stuff. Long story short, you're in an AA meeting—"

"What?" Ash exclaimed. "Why would—okay, you're right. That doesn't sound like me at all."

"No you're not addicted to alcohol," Misty explained. "Just…Just wait for it. Ah, let's skip to here. 'Hello, my name is Ash,' Ash mumbled into his shirt as he avoided eye contact with all others in the room.

Ash—the real Ash, not story-Ash—rolled his eyes. Not at the story, surprisingly, but at Misty. She had taken to reading lines that he—or, rather, the fictional version of him—had in something of a stage whisper. She was making fun of his raspy voice just because she could.

"Resounding back to him was a dull chorus of, 'Hi, Ash.' His mouth was dry. As much as he loved being the center of attention—hah, now that part's right!" Misty interjected. "Oh, and this next part is good: Ash had never been good at the public speaking. He usually ended up saying something dumb that Misty would then make fun of him for later. So he said the only thing that he could think to say: "And I'm addicted to Pokémon Battling."

"What‽" Ash exclaimed, slamming his hands down on the desk as he got closer behind Misty to see the screen for himself. "What does that even mean? How can someone be addicted to Pokémon Battles? This is the stupidest—"

"Shh, that's explained. That's what I'm getting to. Listen:" Misty said, skipping down a bit further. "'Aw, Mist, it's not like you really believe that an addiction to Battling is a real thing, do you?' Misty turned sharply to look at him. "Ash, you battled to the point where Pikachu could hardly breathe! We had to spend the whole day in the Pokémon Center, remember? Clearly you have a problem, and I couldn't think of any other solution besides peer pressure to get you to shape up.'"

"Nope," Ash said immediately. "Nope, nope, nope. I would never do that in a million years."

"I know!" Misty explained, laughing as she stared in disbelief at the words on the screen. "You'd more likely run on the field and land yourself in the hospital."

"I have."

"I know."

Ash frowned as he read the words over again. They made him angry to read. Mostly because the idea of any Trainer doing that to a Pokémon incensed him, but it was more than that. "I can't believe someone out there thinks I would do that."

"Oh, Ash," Misty said, finally swiveling around to look at him. "This person doesn't know you. They just think they do, for some strange reason. Or maybe they knew this wasn't what you're like and wrote it anyway. There are stories like that too."

That didn't make him feel better. Suddenly Ash wanted to run and find Pikachu again, just to hold him. He wanted to hold Pikachu's warm, healthy body, stroke his bright, shiny fur, and feel his full, but muscular belly just to be reminded of the partnership that he had. He was nothing like that…stranger being depicted on the screen.

"I'm sorry if this story upset you, Ash," Misty said, turning the monitor off. "I just find it funny when people get it so wrong. Other than that, the story isn't too terrible. I mean, the writing itself is fine—it just has a crappy core premise. It's even a little funny, though. In the end, I get your mother's cookie recipe just so I can train you with them."

Ash stiffened a little bit. Cookies? Maybe that writer knew more than they seemed to…

"Gosh, it's pitch black in here isn't it? One sec…"

Misty turned on her desk lamp before swiveling in her chair back to Ash. As soon as she saw him, her eyes widened and she pointed to his face. Specifically to his lips.

"Cookie thief!"

By reflex, Ash licked his lips, and found the slightest taste of chocolate at the corner of his mouth. Why hadn't Pikachu told him? And…had he ever put the package of cookies away?

Well. The one thing this author didn't know—in addition to not knowing anything about how Ash battled, apparently—was that he wasn't the true cookie fiend. The true cookie fiend in the Cerulean Gym that day was not him or Misty, but a little electric rodent, who had been left alone for quite a while now.

"Misty," Ash said, his tone just desperate enough to draw her eyes up to his. "We've gotta go!"

Moral: Everyone writes some bad stories. In case you missed it, all those excerpts up there do come from a real story existing on this site. Written by me. This is the first chapter from my Alphabet Challenge, "Addiction." No, not even I am cruel enough to pick some rando's story off this site and make fun of it so heartlessly. No, luckily I've written enough poop myself that I was able to use my past mistakes to illustrate something.

Exception: None. Everyone writes some bad stuff.

Second Moral: Ash would never abuse his Pokémon. I mean, yes, his Pokémon have ended up in dangerous condition before, but always super by accident. In this story, Misty lets us know that it's Ash's fault and it's a habit and that just isn't our sweet baby boy. Ash would never hurt his Pokémon.

Exception: Again, none? Unless there's some real defendable ignorance—it is Ash, after all—then, I repeat: Ash would never hurt his Pokémon.

#pokemon #pokeshipping #oneshot #pokemon fanfiction #pokeani #anipoke #oneshot series #ash ketchum #ash and misty #aaml #misty #pikachu #ash x misty #misty and ash #misty x ash

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pokeshippingflashfic · 5 years

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Hi! It's me again :) I would like to request another Ash comforting Misty flashfic. This time I imagined Misty having a panic attack. Hope the idea appeals to you! And take your time, no worries :)

[Hah, perhaps unfortunately, after I received this request and gave it a whopping five minutes of thought, I suddenly felt really inspired to just go for it.]

She was floating rather blissfully in a pool of water. Small waves lapped softly against her, pushing her rather loftily to and fro as she blinked up straight into a bright sun that, despite it’s shine, didn’t seem to hurt her vision. A multitude of water-type Pokemon were swimming around her, some diving under or leaping over, just everywhere… and she accepted this rather passively even not knowing whose Pokemon they were or where they’d come from.

It was a rather pleasant dream overall… until it wasn’t.

What’s…?

Suddenly she was sinking down, the sun fading away, taking its light and - she assumed though she couldn’t say she felt it - warmth with it. The Pokemon, no more than vague shadows representing familiarity, had all but vanished except for one.

She was gripping her Staryu by its top point as it dove deeper into inky, cool abyss, leading her towards… something. She was looking for something, desperate to save it, but she could barely see her Pokemon plunging through its element a foot or two in front of her. How could she possibly find…?

What’s happening…?

Training instincts told her to conserve oxygen, but her lips flew open anyway as if trying to call out to her target. Bubbles and breath and a single word escaped her, in such clear articulation she knew it shouldn’t have been possible.

“Ash!”

She was looking for Ash, her best friend. He’d fallen from so far, so fast… He was sinking! Was he even conscious…? She remembered now, at least that much, but the anchoring question of why seemed impossible to answer at present. She had to find him!

Where was he? How much farther would she have to go? How could she possibly hope to find him in this blackness? And how far had she gone without needing to take a breath…?

And yet Staryu continued to faithfully carry her onward in their mission.

She had reached a peak of lucidity just in time for an object slightly larger than her hand to float hazily by. Without concern, she snatched it out of the murk.

It was a cap she had seen on his head near constantly in recent days, her heart plummeting in breathless fear and panic at the sight of it in her grasp and him nowhere in sight. She didn’t think about the insensibility behind calling out to him again.

“Ash!” The shriek of her own unnerved horror threatened to deafen her as well as her Pokemon. “Ash, where are you?!”

“Misty, wake up!”

Her eyes snapped open, wiry muscles rigid as a damp sheen clung to her brow and neck. Fists clenching tightly around her bedroll, she leaped into a sitting position, at this point realizing she hadn’t taken a single breath since waking, inhaling deeply in response.

“I… What…?” she whispered, vocal chords weak and throat dry. Craning her neck, wild gaze taking in her surroundings, she was met with Ash Ketchum and his partner Pikachu staring her up and down looking reasonable taken aback from beside her.

“Uh… you okay?” the young man asked after a few seconds, leaning a little closer. She couldn’t answer, fingers wringing their way around the hem of her sleeping bag at the mere question. “You looked like you were having a nightmare.”

A nightmare…?

“Pikachupi, kachu pika?”

“Y - yeah, we were worried. Glad you’re up now though.” And, looking slightly bashful, averting his gaze, Ash added, “It… kinda sounded like you were calling out my name. But…”

Almost any other time, the redheaded teenage girl would have read something into how flustered he looked at the thought of her dreaming about him. She also would have had the clear head to feel self-conscious over an Ash donned in nothing more than boxer shorts and a bandage around his scalp, which was currently the case. All the sight did now was remind her of…

“I think… about earlier…” she muttered, heart leaping up into her throat, stomach churning before icing over. “Or… I guess it was yesterday…”

“Oh.” It was hard to tell by the dim light of the low fire but his face seemed a little paler.

Yesterday, when Team Rocket had last attacked them. It had been all of six or so hours ago; barely dusk. They had used their tricks to steal Pikachu as well as Ash’s belt lined with the rest of his Pokeballs before taking off in their latest hot air balloon.

In her effort to assist, Misty had released Staryu to sabotage their escape but her precious water-type’s rapid spin had only been able to cut all of two ropes tying the villains’ basket to their balloon. One rope had been secured again by the Rocket gang and tied slipshod once more while Ash, in furious pursuit, had grabbed the other one before they’d lifted too high from the ground, immediately carried up and away with them.

Misty had seen him try to climb it while she ran to catch up, seen also Team Rocket’s collected anger and alarm as they attempted to shake him loose before Jessie had released one of her own Pokemon to force the teenage boy to let go.

Ash hadn’t much chance at evading; it was hard to do so when he was busy trying to keep his grip on what was steadily becoming a literal life line, Pikachu calling out to him from where he was trapped a good twenty or so feet overhead.

Even from her slowly increasing distance, Misty heard the blast that was Jessie’s Gourgeist releasing their seed bomb. The attack descended, exploding as it approached her friend. Ash was shouting, slipping, flailing, a second explosive impact and he was suddenly falling from the sky as her heart stopped–

No more playing softball!

He’d hit the body of water that had (luckily) drifted below him with a sickening smack on his back, sunk quickly below the surface. It all happened so swiftly.

Gyarados appeared in a familiar flash of red and roared, his trainer commanding him to immediately leap and bite through Team Rocket’s balloon, tearing the fabric instantly and disabling the criminal trio’s getaway. So violent, so much, so fast.

In the meantime, Misty grabbed a hold of Staryu, inhaled deeply and held it, both diving to search for their friend… So dark… So gone… So quickly…

“Hey, are you okay?” Ash abruptly asked her, voice sounding distant and hollow, reverberating in her eardrums, the sound challenged by her roaring, pounding heartbeat.

“I…”

“Misty, what’s wrong?” He sounded a little more anxious now during round two, and she was surprised to vaguely notice his hand around her wrist, though she couldn’t feel it for some reason.

“I don’t…” She couldn’t breathe, response reduced to a throaty gasp. Her throat was coated in plastic and suffocating. Her skin was burning from cold somehow, she needed water–

–he was sinking so deep down–

–and air–

–holding her breath, but she would top out after one hundred and eighty seconds max and how much time had passed already–

–sweat was pouring from her forehead, her neck, she was either numb or aching, on fire, her gaze vacant, and it scared him if he was being honest–

“–Misty, what’s going on–?”

“Pikachupi!”

–where was he, where is he, how big is this place… his hat is in her free hand, her grip on Staryu stiffening, she would have to sacrifice the hat if, or when, she found him–

–so many times, this had happened too many times already since knowing him, what if she doesn’t get to him quick enough, what if he–

“–Hey!”

His shout was enough to momentarily clear her head. Perhaps he was able to sense that fact because he took advantage, and Misty felt the shocking impression of cool hands resting firmly against her flushed cheeks. Then the two were eye to eye and her wave of despair and doom and panic briefly subsided.

“Listen, Mist, you’re not there, you’re here. Pay attention to me right now!” he told her forcibly, and she felt him tug a little uncomfortably, her neck yanking, so she wouldn’t lose focus. “Look at me, okay? Can you do that?”

She could barely hear him, gaze flickering between the fire light glowing in his eyes to his fringe and lashes, to his cheeks… It was all him though… She could… She could do this!

“You need to take a breath! C’mon, we’ve got this, just do what I do, look,” after which he did indeed lead by example. She watched his chest rise and fall, his eyes fluttering momentarily closed and lips pursed barely open as he exhaled.

She gurgled and choked, blinked away the white hot tears at the corner of her burning eyes, halfheartedly shook her head in defeat.

“It’s okay, c’mon, we’ll try again together, now in through your nose,” he coached her, slowly initiating his own attempt and waiting until he heard her copy it before moving on, “and then out through your mouth… You got it!” he applauded her, “Okay, and again… Let’s do it a few more times…”

It seemed forever and yet also instantaneous for the symptoms to subside, and she did what she could to bear in mind what Ash was saying and doing to tether her to the present.

“–take a breath–”

His hands on her cheeks…

“–Pay attention to me right now–”

His shoulders rising and falling…

“–we’ll try again together–”

His face overtaking her vision, mere inches from hers, collarbone connecting to his bare chest…

Ash wasn’t sure what emotional response was most prevalent a few minutes later when his redheaded friend, still trembling a little but no longer writhing and choking, maneuvered to cover his hands with her own, both pairs now held against her cheeks. Part of him was pleased, it seemed to be her first conscious and calm move since… whatever had happened. Another part of him was loath to admit how flustered he felt as her somehow inconceivably soft fingers splayed over his own rougher ones.

“S - so… what happened?” he had the nerve to eventually ask her, though he could still barely look her in the eyes. Her current object of focus was Pikachu curled up in her lap while she patted his short fur coat. The teen boy noticed it offered a pleasant distraction, all things considered.

“Dunno,” she croaked, cleared her throat, tried to elaborate. “That’s… never happened before that I know of. It’s like… I was having that nightmare, I think it was based off what happened… y’know, yesterday… But then I couldn’t stop thinking of it… Then I was feeling it, like it was happening all over again, and I was… thinking of you, losing you…” She didn’t give the flush on her cheeks the chance to settle, continuing with her description. “Y’know, you worry me too much, Mr. Pokemon Master!” she finished rather harshly, faltering in her grounding activity.

“Mwah, wait a sec, now it’s my fault?!”

“Of course it is, you dummy! I mean, you shouldn’t have done that! We would have gotten your Pokemon back eventually! We always do!”

Rather than risk a rebuttal that would lead to another panic attack, he stared her down before heaving a deep sigh and relenting.

“Sorry… It’s second nature by now.”

She thought about asking him if he meant his self-sacrificing nature or worrying her to near death but decided against it. They’d been through enough by now and it was only roughly three in the morning!

“Y’know Ash, I can admit after all the time we’ve known each other… that I really like the kind of person you are,” she iterated almost affectionately instead, “You’re passionate and considerate, at least when you wanna be,” she made a point to add. “But sometimes… I really wish you’d take a little better care of yourself. Every time something like… like yesterday happens… I worry it’s the last time I’ll ever see you.”

The… last time? he thought, not quite understanding immediately what she’d been getting at… Oh, there it was. He hummed under his breath, brow furrowed, had gotten to the point of opening his mouth without a clue as to what he’d say before she interrupted him.

“Well, if there’s anything I know for sure it’s that there’s no changing you… so I guess for now at least I’ll have to do my best to support you.”

“Oh. Yeah. Thanks.” The response was so simple but he honestly had no idea what else he could say. Perhaps it was something for another time.

“I mean, after your help earlier, I guess I owe you, right?”

But Ash was briefly overwhelmed by the flashback of his regaining consciousness with blurred vision on the hard ground the evening before, head aching and blood dripping from his temple, Misty kneeling over him soaking wet and shaking from the brisk chill, practically crying even as she smiled in relief at the sight of him coming to.

His gratitude and… something he couldn’t quite place swept through him and swelled up, filling every ounce of his person as he took in the sight of his best friend sitting at his side.

“Please, Mist,” he told her peaceably in utter confidence, “it was the least I could do for you.”

[There were a couple details i left out because of the word count limit. Ash was down to boxers because he didn’t plan ahead, simple as that. His only outfit was soaked after falling into the water so yeah, it’s meant to be air-drying. Misty is fully dressed because she did plan ahead. Lol. Ash also received some cuts and stuff from the minor explosives and Pikachu escaped his cage when Gyarados attacked TR’s balloon, after which he rescued his trainer’s PokeBelt from them. Just in case anyone was curious. As for Misty’s panic attack timing, I felt that the adrenaline rush in the moment would keep her from falling prey to it so that’s why it takes place hours later when she has time to think. As for how Ash helps her control it, he’s instinctively offering her deep breathing and grounding techniques which - if you’re unfamiliar - are pretty basic mental coping skills.

Also a few unrelated things: Please do not just like this story! If you had a good time reading, I implore you to share this and help me spread the word about this blog! I haven’t received many requests lately, only one every 6-15 days! That being said, if you have a fic request, please send it in! I have 1 or 2 in my inbox and a couple others in drafts that I’ve started but I could use some more prompts if you’re interested in me writing for them!]

#pokeshipping #fanfiction #flash fic #aaml #ash x misty #requests #word count: 1831 #nebli

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ofieugogyshz · 4 years

Text

Booth: Boogiepop Tarot

“I'm not sure I understand why you couldn't wear what you normally wear...”

“It's for the aesthetics, Mr. Champion. I'd expect you of all people to understand the importance of presentation!”

This exchange happened at one very visually appealing stall, between two people who were at work, setting it up in the hours before the festival opened to the public. The stall had a quaint, yet mystical atmosphere to it, a subtle otherworldliness to it. There were no skulls or symbols implicating something demonic or magical in nature. But the black, wine red, and purple color scheme, the layabout crystals and candles, the stars that hung from the tent poles which glittered in the day and glowed in the dark; fairy lights that would be visible at night, but during the day were hidden in the rafters, covered by flower chains and vines; the occasional witch's ladder hung in various spots, ending with bottles of herbs, powder, or glitter as a means to catch a wavering eye... All this had been an assortment of things that appealed to the one running the booth. They had desired something that gave a very mystical, almost magical vibe, but didn't buy directly into a gothic vibe or skirted the spring theme that they had to work with. Perhaps it had been a bit overdone, but it all added up to an intriguing and unusual display.

The person running the booth was a non-binary individual signed up under the name of “Boogiepop”. Naturally, this wasn't the actual Boogiepop. But the tarot reader who had set about organizing the booth certainly had taken it upon themselves to look the part.

They wore a long cloak that covered their entire body, hiding their heavyset form under shapeless navy blue. When visible, the inside of the cloak was lined with a nebulae pattern in a reddish hue. A long, stove-pipe shaped hat adorned their head. What looked like miniature knobs and trinkets littered the front of the hat, as it was held down by a chain across the crown. Brown hair was tucked under the hat, except for two strands that framed their face. From their ears dangled gold stars along gold chains of varying length; they wore a large wire ear cuff that had stars on it, beautiful and simple. This Boogiepop wore black lipstick that glittered in a mysterious way, adding to the intrigue that the individual hoped to bring.

Across their shoulders was a rather long belt that ended in a large yin-yang symbol in the middle, seeming to hold it up. It had a black and white zigzag pattern. Shorter belts, in a plain brown color, seemed to be worn as bracelets and anklets, though these were only visible when the cloak was thrown open, or a hand was reaching across to turn a card or position a crystal. Solid black nail polish coated their fingertips, a stark contrast to the shimmer and shine of the booth itself, and the rest of the adornments that the reader had added to their costume.

There was a certain image that this person had in mind for their stall's display, and they definitely strove to bring it to life.

“Besides,” they continued, as they reached into a box and pulled out various crystals and gems to adorn their tables and display, “I'm not always about pink and sparkly cheer! I mean, sure, this would have been the perfect opportunity to go ham on that with whatever I've got in my closet, but I don't have to!! There's nothing wrong with a little black now and then; spring sprouts from the dead of winter, the end of a beginning! Oh, don't give me that look,” they said, cutting themselves off in a huff as their husband stifled a laugh at their words while he helped make sure that the poles for the stall's covering were secure.

He stopped where he was working, covering his mouth with his fist as he chuckled at the overanalyzing ramble his wife went on, the attempt to make an excuse to wear that particular costume, but they had already noticed it and puffed out their cheeks in a pout.

“I'm sorry; you're just so cute when you ramble on like that.”

Their cheeks flushed red and they turned away sharply, quickly busying themselves with putting decorations down at another table.

Nearby, a Pikachu helped decorate. A small, traditional-styled witch's hat was on the Pikachu's head, as her long ears poked through the brim of the hat so as to keep it in place. The reader glanced up from their work to look at their Pikachu's progress. She ran across the front crying about happily as she helped place flowers and crystals down.

“Ahh! Pika, try not to put too many flowers down. I know it's a spring festival, but I want the gemstones to be noticeable, too...” The trainer watched as their Pikachu nodded, and sprinted away with a mouthful of the flowers it had just sat down, placing them gently back in a small bucket that housed many other flowers that were being used to decorate. The festival had supplied these, so as to help encourage the spring vibes for each of the people who had signed up for a stall.

When this stall's “Boogiepop” had heard about the festival, they had hurriedly signed themselves up as a vendor, completely ignoring the fact that part of the importance of the festival was for families and couples. ...Which was part of the reason why they had initially been drawn to the Spring Festival. But when they saw their niche interest listed among one of the potential booths that one could hold, their mind instantly changed gears as hyperfixation took hold. What went from a planned, simple date outing with their spouse instantly became a frenzied, excited need to make up a huge display and share something that they rarely got to share publicly. And now, they had roped their husband into helping them set up and keep them company between patrons.

But that was not an issue at all. The two did not get nearly enough time together recently, so any excuse would have sufficed. “Boogiepop” looked over at their husband, smiling as they remembered this.

When everything had been laid out, the last thing they did was put out the divination decks. Carefully, they set down five deck boxes of varying sizes on a table along the side of their reading table. They were spaced out a certain amount, as though to give each deck room for themselves. Three more decks were placed down on the much larger center table, which would be the working space for any potential clients. A large reading cloth covered the circular, center table. It showcased constellations across the night sky, naming each one that appeared. There was the casual adjustment of a nearby crystal, or some other trinket that added to the visual, aesthetic appeal of the whole booth.

Their husband watched as his wife picked up each deck individually, closing their eyes for a moment, whispering a few words before they put it back down and picked up the next deck. They had done this for each of the eight decks that they had brought. Though he didn't understand much about how tarot reading worked, or why his wife felt such a pull towards it, it didn't matter. He loved watching them focused on something. He loved the excitement that they got as everything started to come together during the time they had spent setting up together. He loved watching them.

Incense was lit as the festival attendees had begun their stroll inside the festival park. It was a very earthy, grounding blend that helped gave a sense of calm to any passersby that smelled it.

The tarot reader finally sat down at their center table. Tarot cards had been kept in their boxes for the time being, though the reader themselves longed to begin shuffling. Maybe just a single card, to get their mind focused and at ease...?

“You know, your costume doesn't seem very spring-like at all,” commented their husband, breaking the silence immediately.

They let out a sigh. It was much better to let their hyperfixation rest for the time being, so they wouldn't burn out early. They'd hate to have spent all this time and energy setting up, only to be unable to focus on a reading after an hour or two.

“Yeah, well,” they started, turning to look at their husband. “I'm surprised that you didn't come in uniform for once,” they said, pursing their lips in a mock-pout. They rested their elbow on the table as they spoke, putting their chin in their hand.

It was true. Their husband was normally seen in much more dramatic clothing, usually accompanied by a cape. Today, however, he had gone for something more simple. A black turtleneck shirt with long sleeves, and khaki pants. “Boogiepop” had half expected their spouse to look no less jarring amongst festival goers than they did themselves in costume, as his typical outfit was iconic of his position, and only felt slightly dismayed that they were now the one overdressed. They scanned him up and down, from his spiked red hair all the way down to the shoes he wore, and back up, meeting his blue eyes.

“Are you cold-blooded or something?” they asked suddenly, a critical eye on his outfit. “It's the beginning of May. Aren't you hot in that?”

There was only a brief pause as their husband considered his response, looking down at what he wore.

“Well. If we were to ask your 'twelve-year-old self', apparently the answer would be yes.” He gave them a teasing grin, earning a huge eye roll and sputtering fluster from his wife.

“Oh. my. Fucking. God. – I can't. I can't even with you right now. – No, no. You know what?” they said, grabbing a deck like they were brandishing a weapon. They quickly rifled through the cards. When they found what they were looking for, they slammed the deck back down on the table, and held out the card to their lover.

“Just for that--! The Tower! Everything falls to ruins, because you just ruined it,” they declared, cheeks still flushed hot red from embarrassment.

Had the reader's booth caught the eye of any passersby, maybe they had heard part of this conversation. Perhaps they even watched as it occurred. Or maybe it was the playful teasing, the banter and fluster, that caught one's interest, and the surrounding booth, with all its decor, finished drawing them in.

Regardless of how one approached, there would be a Pikachu in a witchy hat to greet you cheerfully, running alongside you as it tried to bring you in. And the tarot reader and their husband would look up from whatever they were doing when they heard that Pikachu.

“Welcome,” began the tarot reader, as they gave their best monotone impression. “If it interests you, you may ask me any question you seek to know. You may find yourself learning information about yourselves that does not please; or perhaps it was information you already knew? Do you wish to go back to the beginning, to find the root of all causes? Or do you simply wish to watch the here and now? Feel free to seek, but do not be afraid of the answer--” and there was a pause, as though they were forgetting their lines.

“Ahh, forget it. I'm doing single card readings if you're interested. What do you wanna know? Please make sure to mind the rules posted by the entrance. Oh, and don't mind the husband, he's just here because he loves me,” they will say, as the two will look at each other and smile. “Tell me your question, because I know the cards will have a lot more to say to you if you don't.”

#selfship spring festival #self ship community #pokemon self ship #remaking the posts now that i'm at a heckkin computer so sorry #i'll do my best to tag posts with that if anyone wants to block it #i forgot what tags i was gonna put here LOL #writing

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