#flashbacks to writing for sv...i should go back one day

[romance-rambles]

modern lars | i. beachside memories

Name: Blobby Gender: Male Nature: Bold Evolutionary Line: Sandygast -> Palossand Lars' first pokemon. They met on the beach while Lars was vacationing with his family as a child. Very possessive of his trainer, but also just as easy to manipulate.

3.1k, pokemon au + fluff, modern lars, reader is mc, series: n/a

DEX ENTRY [ULTRA SUN]: It likes the shovel on its head, so Sandygast will get serious and fight any children who come to take it back.

In all his brief time, Sandygast has yet to come across a sandcastle he adores as much as the ones made by a boy named Lars.

Every day, Lars comes early in the morning—alone, unlike some of the other children who give sandcastle making a try. It's a habit that started a few days ago, when he first arrived at the beach Sandygast calls home.

In his hand was a plastic pail, within which he kept the shovel he used to make the first of his marvelous constructs. It's the same set he's using right now, a beauty to behold, especially after Sandygast learned to ignore their garish flaws. And oh, there are so many.

Like the cartoonish pikachu patterns printed all over. What does a pikachu have to do with sandcastles? And the color.

Sandygast shudders at the thought.

They're a light blue, not unlike the color of Lars' eyes, that looks too much like the force of nature that can seize his hard work away in an instant. Sandygast's spent far too much of his free time attempting to find a better analogy, one that won't have him running for the hills when he observes his new favorite human.

And that, in itself, is such a far cry from his initial reaction that he, the ghost type pokemon, can't help but wonder what sort of enchantments the boy has at his disposal.

Because, back then, he hadn't bothered to learn the boy's name.

Lars was simply just another tourist who would make a mess and then leave. That was how these things worked, after all. And really, how was Sandygast—with his aspirations to become the most beautiful Palossand in existence—to know that the boy was actually the only human worthy of crafting his castle?

This, however, leaves him with a problem.

After all, Lars won't be sticking around forever.

But for whatever reason, children often fear him and he suspects Lars might prove to be no different. He supposes the reputation his brethren have cultivated might play a role in that—but Sandygast is a perfectly nice pokemon, entirely uninterested in run of the mill corpses.

Now, no matter how unlikely it is, if they happened to be in possession of high quality ones—

Which, of course, is irrelevant to the situation at hand.

With a sigh, he peers at the boy in question from his hiding spot among the sands. Lars is seemingly oblivious to Sandygast's presence, too engrossed in reinforcing the western wing of his magnificent castle. There's a determined gleam in his eyes, the kind that makes every bit of sand in Sandygast's body shake in joy.

At some point, as the work at hand grows more delicate and detailed, his tongue sticks out slightly. When his hair begins to interfere with his vision, he drops his shovel temporarily and brushes his hair back. It does not do him much good—he seems to be missing his usual headband, so he is simply stuck repeating the action.

A half-baked plan begins to form in Sandygast's head.

The shovel currently on its head is special only because it is the only one he's ever known. Frankly, he's not too attached though. He'd picked it up because it was the closest one but he's always planned on leaving it for something better.

And Lars' shovel?

Despite how terrible it looks, he's certain he'll never find anything better than that.

So, the next time the boy turns his gaze to the latest prototype for Sandygast's castle, the pokemon sans his shovel quietly creeps up behind him. His bucket, the gaudy thing it is, is left unattended with some leftover sand—there might be no other place as good as this to hide in!

Sandygast can only vibrate in excitement.

And then—

Lars places the shovel inside the pail, its blade appropriately digging into the pokemon's body. Sandygast wastes no time in claiming it for himself. And then, all that's left to do is wait, however boring an ordeal it is.

He's unfortunately on the shorter side, owing to the lack of good architects coming his way. The ability to watch the boy from this angle is simply out of reach. That's why he's resolved to ask for the biggest sandcastle possible.

Then, when he finally runs into the others, it'll be his turn to laugh. Snickering at the thought, he can only imagine the looks on their faces.

Thankfully, Lars doesn't notice.

Instead, his pale hand reaches for the handle. After a few attempts, each pull carrying more frustration than the last, he finally decides to look inside the bucket. Sandygast, naturally, takes that as his cue and allows the boy to pick him up.

"Huh?" Blue eyes—like the sky, he decides—blink confusedly at him. Uncaring of Sandygast's reputation, Lars pulls the pokemon closer, his scrunched nose a clear indicator of the amount of thoughts running through his head at the moment. "A pokemon? What are you doing here?"

Sandygast wiggles, his eyes lighting up at the boy's casual response. Well, casual relative to the horror stories he's heard, of little boys and girls running away, screaming as though they're about to be eaten. Which they usually are—he has to commend them for their instincts.

The pokemon shakes off the thought just in time to hear the boy ask, "Can you let go of my shovel? ...um, Blobby?"

Blobby?

Glaring indignantly, Sandygast—not Blobby—shakes his body. The nerve to bestow such a mediocre name upon him! Clearly, the boy's talents stop only at castle-making. He'll have to find a way to avoid his current fate, somehow.

Perhaps one of the boy's parents will have a better sense for these things.

"No?" Lars tilts his head, then looks around.

He'd picked a suitably quiet spot, so there are fewer people around. That should shorten the time on his search, whatever it's for, but instead, he aborts his mission halfway through with a sigh.

"Do you have a name then?"

Sandygast pauses his protests. Well, the answer is no. But—

"Well, for now, I'll call you Blobby," the boy decides. Sandygast can only bite back a sob. "So, could you please let go? I need to finish making this castle."

The pokemon shakes his body again and thinks. He's already taken the shovel hostage. Now, to explain his motives...

His eyes narrow at the thought. Wait, why is he meant to explain his master plan? Surely, the boy's already realized what he wants. There isn't a human child out there who doesn't know of the dangers of his evolutionary line.

Upon scrutinizing the boy's awkward expression, he realizes his previous assumption was incorrect. There is a human child unaware of the dangers of encountering sandygasts and palossands.

Now he's even more grateful for his diligence in fending off his competitors! What would this boy do without him? Lars is lucky he believes in open dialogue!

Wait—why shouldn't he just possess him?

Sandygast looks at the boy, then at the sandcastle behind him. The people nearby haven't noticed Lars' mistake in grabbing his new handle; even if they did warn him, by then, it would be too late.

But, he glares at the boy, he won't bring me along then.

No castle will ever be too big for him. He's a greedy ghost, after all—perhaps he'd been that way when he'd been alive too. And one does not simply get over the best castlemaker to ever exist!

Annoyed, he jerks his head towards Lars' sandcastle. The boy seems to get his point only when he points at the shovel stuck in his head.

"You want the castle?" Lars scrunches his nose. The creases in his forehead grow more pronounced when Sandygast shakes his head. "You...like the castle? But you don't want it? Hm...do you want to be the castle?"

Sandygast nods delightedly.

"I wonder what kind of pokemon you are..." The boy frowns. His normally bright eyes seem to darken for a moment as he grumbles something inaudible to himself. "Here's the thing: I can't make one for you today. But...I really do want to finish this one first. If I make one for you tomorrow, will you give my shovel back to me?"

Considering the question for a moment, Sandygast remembers the shovel he'd recently abandoned. He shakes himself free from the boy's grasp and flees in search of it, to sound of Lars' startled shouts. And when he comes back, the boy is still there, looking rather upset.

As he presents the older shovel to him, Lars finally looks at him.

"Is my shovel really that special?" he asks, tilting his head. "Or...is it special because it's mine?"

Oh, what a smart boy. Sandygast was beginning to lose faith in his non-castlemaking abilities.

If not for the language barrier, the pokemon would gladly elaborate further on just how special he is. He settles for vigorously nodding and stops only when a shy smile crosses the boy's lips. Lars laughs, combing through his bangs.

"I think this is the first time someone's said that about me, and not my family," he says, a tentative look on his face. "Do you want to help with this one, Blobby?"

Sandygast narrows his eyes at the boy. He can only hope his expression relays his message—Not. Blobby.

Still, when faced with such a pitiable expression, even he can't help but crumble. With a full body sigh, he scoots closer to the boy and patiently waits for his instructions. Lars' vision is truly something to behold; the rest of the day goes by in a blur of laughter and easy companionship.

And when it's time for him to leave for the day, the boy asks, "Would you like to be my friend, Blobby?"

Sandygast—still resistant to the name, though it's beginning to grow on him—has only one response for that.

He jumps into Lars' arms.

Lars' notes on the memory: That was my shovel first. Thief! Oh, but my family was pretty frightened when I came home with Blobby. It took a while to convince them I wasn't possessed!

DEX ENTRY [SUN]: Possessed people controlled by this Pokémon transformed its sand mound into a castle. As it evolved, its power to curse grew ever stronger.

Blobby glares at the magnificent castle in front of him—built, of course, by his Lars—before him, uncaring of the way the little boy his trainer had inexplicably decided to watch over flinches at his seething fury.

What similarities are there even? He distinctly recalls that boy, whatever his name is, mentioning something about fake blonds to Lars, giving himself away as one of them. Really, the blond hair is one of Lars' most defining features!

Long debates about the matter with the rest of the team had led to the undeniable agreement that his golden hair evoked the image of the shining sun, and what was Lars but a shining ray of light?

Well, technically, they had narrowed it down to a few things, some less flattering than others, but the boy didn't have any of those things either!

...Although—

No, the pokemon shakes his head vigorously. Lars had been cuter, even with his apparent lack of survival skills. Blobby spent years trying to rectify that part, though his trainer's natural curiosity for the world never particularly left him.

Now, you, on the other hand...

His mouth twists into a bitter smile. Naturally, one cannot simply replace the sun—you can only get as close as your wingless body allows. Like that man, Icarus, with his infinite stupidity, but smarter. But the distance between is infinitely shorter than anyone Lars has ever been surrounded by.

Other than Blobby, of course.

That part is implied rather obviously, considering Lars chose him. The same as you, even despite the certain glaring flaws to your name—

His gaze flits to the mediocre castle beside Lars', different from the masses only in the way humans tend to be, shaped by nature and circumstance. It could be much worse, but he's decided to be charitable to the girl who makes the sun shine brighter.

At least you cared enough to ask about his foul mood, though it only infuriated him further.

Huffing, Blobby turns his glare back to the root of the problem, seemingly oblivious to the amends he must make for his betrayal. It's not enough to knock Lars off his throne, but it's tempting.

What was it he'd said? Blobby'll "come around"?

His glare intensifies. The sun, the real one in the sky, slowly shifts to the west, readying itself for its nightly descent. You and Lars occasionally converse in whispers, sometimes half-audible even to him. They almost exclusively take the form of playful flirting, as if the only thing to occupy the space in their maybe empty heads is each other.

And the nameless boy from earlier left in a terrible mood some time ago, with an annoyed young man with gray hair who seemed keen on lecturing him.

Blobby, however, stays in the same spot, the cheerful cries of his teammates only emphasizing his dour mood. Some help out with their trainer's quest, while others play with a beach ball. Only one, the sole non-electric and ground type amongst them, dares to brave the ocean, though the flamigo remains in shallow waters.

Lars—undoubtedly due to the others' childish complaints—doesn't like it when he throws sand at them. Otherwise, that would most certainly be his next course of action. That'd shut them up.

You're lucky, he thinks venomously at the electabuzz cheerfully helping you add some finishing touches to your sandcastle. Noticing his glare, she waves at him obliviously.

Somehow, he resists the urge to scream.

Even when you turn around, gaze softened by pity and concern, the only thing Blobby offers is an expression full of displeasure. To him, it doesn't matter if you try to conv—huh?

You turn away, returning to your tragic sandcastle. He can only gape at your back, spluttering indignantly at the sheer nerve. Really, the sheer audacity—don't you know you're supposed to come and comfort him if you acknowledge him at all?

Even the traitor made a token effort to talk to him!

Were you not forwarded the script beforehand? Someone from the team should've coached you at least! He's supposed to rebuff you, not the other way around. It's just the way the world works.

Eventually, after growing tired of twiddling his non-existent thumbs over your nonaction, Blobby waddles over to the oblivious couple whispering to each other. Surely, they'll get the hint, right?

"Oh, there you are," Lars says cheerfully, looking over his (shaking? Is he laughing?) shoulder. He glances briefly at you, his blue eyes widening with a strange emotion, before he looks back at Blobby. "Did you have fun today?"

The pokemon narrows his eyes at him. It doesn't affect his trainer's smile at all—Blobby's beginning to think he finds it funny.

Oh, how he misses the days when Lars was younger. He wouldn't make fun of his first friend like this. Then again, he wouldn't be hanging around another human so happily either.

A dilemma, certainly.

Blobby frowns.

"You're just in time. Look," His trainer points at his own castle. As he scratches his cheek, he has a troubled look on his face. "Don't you think this castle's missing something? She says it's perfect."

You don't retract your statement. Instead, you laugh—surprisingly, it's a pleasant noise. Blobby nods in approval. It's simply common sense that everything Lars makes is perfect.

Still, he can spot some room for improvement.

Blobby wastes no time going through the list. And Lars, as always, picks and chooses what he wants to listen to. What that means is that their squabbling takes up more time than the actual renovations to the castle.

"Well, I certainly learned a lot," you say once they finish, leaning back.

Lars gives you an apologetic look, but you wave off his apologies before he can even start. Smart girl. If you made him feel bad for enjoying himself, Blobby would throw sand at you, consequences be damned.

You don't really seem like the type, all things considered, but one can never be too sure, after all.

"Oh, but..." You trail off worriedly and chew at your bottom lip. There's something funny about your tone, but he can't quite pin it down. "My castle's looking a bit plain too. Do you have any critiques, Professor Blobby?"

He can't but perk up at the title. Professor? They're usually held in high esteem, aren't they? Like that one fellow, the one who Lars occasionally runs into, with the long silver hair and carefully pressed three piece suit. You know him too, though, for some reason, you're usually not very eager to talk about him.

A rather strange thing, considering most people who run into him can only do the opposite.

Oh, but Blobby would make a great professor—one that's not at all like those terrors that Lars would complain about during his university days. Plus, your castle could definitely use a lot of work. His expression is bright as he nods.

"Really?" You clap your hands delightedly. "I can't thank you enough."

Blobby pulls himself up to his full height at your words, feeling pleased. His earlier bad mood seems to have vanished entirely, leaving not even a white fluffy cloud in sight—only clear skies. He waddles over to your side, vaguely aware of Lars' muffled laughter, and begins the first of his lessons.

As a testament to his teaching skills, you come back again the next morning too.

Lars' notes on the memory: Blobby's always taken a bit of time to warm up to people—but he seemed to really like you from the start. I thought it'd be fine for us to do this, all things considered. Hmm, if he's going to be like this every time I make a sandcastle for someone else, should I start preparing him for the next one? [sound of you hitting his arm]

Extras:

— Blobby hated being called "Sandygast" because he felt it was step down in terms of intimacy, implying he wasn't very important to Lars. By the time he woke up to smell the roses, the name "Blobby" stuck, as there were simply no alternatives that he'd accept.

— He loves lording the blue pikachu shovel over Lars' other pokemon as a sign of his "special" bond, what with him being Lars' first pokemon and all. They have since grown used to it and mostly ignore him.

— His current dream castle is the Emperor's in In Passing. After all, it's a grandiose beauty and owned by a man who looks like his favorite person in the world. However, he believes Lars does not know this and intends to keep it that way.