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kalosian-woods · 20 days ago

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Clemont is just really funny in general i think. he's just like that, realistically theres so much to unpack about him;

he made an entire invention where he spoke to the mayor and was spread out across the town of the uni he was in which he got in at the age of maybe like 8.

he's a gym leader. he lost his gym to his invention,

there was the slightest chance he could've been mind controlled.

his bag is a bag of holding

he can't run

his entire mental state is the way it is because of a single mistake that wasn't even his fault

There's so much to unpack about him and the creators were like; "yeah anyways!"

okay but seriously, i think we as a fandom neglect the fact that if it wasn't for Clemont's anxious(???) paranoid(???) quick thinking(???) overly prepared(???) he probably he would've gotten mind controlled. like what was up with that.

-⚡(you can call me clem anon! its also just really funny and the fact that i've so far only exclusively talked about him makes it even funnier. electric anon is okay too !)

Clemont is his own bag of holding lol, there really is SO MUCH with him and I'm shaking you on the shoulders rn clem nonnie. Please. How is it possible that there is so much to him as it is. I need to study him under a microscope.

With the first point, that always made me laugh in a way lol. Him at the age of possibly eight created a power source slash Electric Pokemon recharger for a whole town/city. The mayor has noticed his efforts. This is before he is a Gym Leader, and this is the place where he made the promise to Shinx (a promise that he broke, not by any fault of his own, but by the very thing that brought them together in the first place).

The way he actually just straight up lived in Prism Tower, or at least that's how it felt, along with Bonnie. Their father is in the same city with a house but they won't bother with that and he doesn't bother them until they are MIA for at the very least a few weeks if not months. His reasoning for being a Gym Leader is to wield Electric Types from every region and become an Electric-Type Trainer that the world has never seen. The fact that he can be this ambitious with battling gets me (and also his learning from school carrying over c':)

His bag is also a mechanical marvel (not Volcanion, sorry). His Aipom Arm has only malfunctioned once (1 time), and he's easily able to lift Bonnie into the air with it. Also we never see this beyond the first ep but it has an inflatable airbag??? That is actually safe and comfortable to land on even with the everything in his bag as it is.

Even after the whole series and after everything they've ever went through, he still cannot run. Only one time he has ever sprinted ahead (in this realm/dimension) and that was to get to a festival about Zapdos of all Pokemon (and maybe that inventing fair as well??). No one comments on it beyond that one moment. He's also tried to make shoes to help him go up hills quicker but he never tried that one again lol (he forgot he even had it until Serena mentions the monorail, in which also, wow. this gang i swear).

That's actually one of the saddest parts (and something I can totally relate with). The way that we see him so happy and open with Shinx beforehand, ready to learn and be hands on and playing outside even with all the work that he had. And then we hear about how he lost his Gym, how his Pokemon disregard his words and his invention doesn't see him as worthy or strong enough, and it really is him just living out a nightmare of his own making in a way. His fear from back then keeps haunting him with the mistakes that he makes now, and even after meeting with Luxio again you can see the way he just... accepts that he's no longer wanted or forgiven. He's fine with it. He rather everyone have a better life than he does. Just,, he needs a hug. Lots of them.

HELP PLS you've said exactly what I've been thinking off this whole time!! Geez, I thought I was alone in thinking that we brush off whatever happened to Clemont in 'The Needs of Many!' like I get that we lose Greninja, but hello? He got straight-up kidnapped right in front of our eyes! He was going to be made into a superhuman (which has some very very worrying connotations beyond what is already happening). He too was blasted by the Mega Evo Energy, and even if he did resist the mind control, there's got to be other effects as well. If his friends weren't OP and reckless as they were he would've actually been carted away to who knows where and it would've been a matter of time until his preventive measures were found out. And the way he already had a counter against it, against the beam specifically (and for it to be able to work without any issues) is also so sad and worrying in a way?? It's definitely paranoia to me, it was very specific (more than usual, anyways), small enough to hide and easy enough for him to grab. Poor boy :(( I need to just sit down and think every time I remember this is an ep that exists because they just went ham with it, didn't they??

#wooo clem (/electric) anon it is!! such a powerful title btw you've just claimed ownership of a whole character lol :P #also 'so far'?? this means that you may go on to branch out beyond clem and that scares as well as intrigues me /lh :3c #apparently bonnie knew that he evolved heliolisk with a sun stone but hasn't seen evo until the spewpa ep gets me #clem also has that ds map thing that looks very similar to what cilan had i think #i mean he's also quick-thinking and overly prepared but he did not miss a beat with the whole thing #i'm constantly thinking of this ep btw. easily one of the strangest and scariest imo #find it also weird bc of course it's adapting the games with xerosic trying to make a superhuman post-xy #but (a) he hates clem and it was targetted (b) obvs the beam and (c) no looker (or emma) :(#but ig the hardest part for me is just that the anime makes xerosic completely irredemable. he's down bad for lys's ambitions #while in the games he's just there to be there. instead it's malva who's all for lysandre and his dreams (yeah they swapped)#i have no idea if i should keep them anime-wise (which means so much tweaking! and also very hard to get emma in then)#or lean more game-wise. because they are very much opposites #but also old men having beef with clem is very funny lol #like i still remember dark clembot guy. what was his deal?? i mean i doubt many ppl even know anything about it #anyways back to clem. i find that his reason to be a gym leader to be a lot more self-serving than i would've expected #yeah he wants to be good as a trainer but what about other trainers? being a gym leader means testing them #not just testing yourself. if he really wanted that he could've just struck out on his own #but it is easier to stay in one place and let challengers come to you #still. makes sense why he burnt out so easily on that end. and made a robot to fixate on challengers in such a way too #to make up for his own disinterest in them #LOOK i can get to the whole clembot thing later. i'm like 3 fics away then you can see me all ramble to death about it #because i've got a million thoughts on it #sadly the whole luxio ep is going to be a million light years away :/#we don't get much fo a timeline for clem so we don't know much about him #but presumably he got all of his gym mons after leaving shinx #and also at some point in his life he helped make the power plant???#i can never get out of my head how he just dives in front of ash to take luxio's thunder fang point-blank #(i mean he's learning off ash but i don't think that's the right thing to learn heh)#and the way he tells her 'i'll be your grounding' like AUGH? my heart? is there even a point? (the way he'll take anything from her)#anyways got too many thoughts about him. have barely scatched the surface as it is lol

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sobbingscripter · 3 months ago

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𓈒⋆⑅˚₊୨🌼wc. 3005🌼୧₊˚⑅⋆𓈒

“Do… do you think we’re friends in every universe?”

Mark’s voice is quiet, back pressed against freshly mowed grass, eyes focused on the starry sky above you. It stretches endlessly, an abyss dotted with the faintest glows, celestial pools that reflect off your pupils and you hum. Chewing on your bottom lip.

“I think so.”

You shift on the grass, your shoulder bumping against his and your head bumps lightly against his, and Mark bites back a grin, but you can see the dimples that threaten to appear in his cheeks. “Yeah?” He whispers.

“Mhm.” You swallow. “It doesn’t seem right that I’d only know you in one life.”

Mark’s fingers lace with yours, his pudgy digit tracing over the pretty ring that adorns your thumb.

“I think we always find each other. Even if, like, I don’t know, different worlds. Or timelines. Or species.”

His eyes remain trained on the black above him, wind rustling at the cypress branches, blades of grass tickling the back of his neck, the backs of his legs and he glances at you, pupils dilated so much that you’d think he was on something.

Lashes fluttering shut, the ball of your nose brushing against his and your lips brushing over his. In a sweet, chaste promise that managed to toe the line between friendship and something neither of you could comprehend.

“Forever?”

“Forever.”

“You fought and won, against Godzilla. Like, literally.” You deadpan. “But an off-brand kraken with toenails and spikes, rocks your shit?”

Your scoff breaks Mark from his reverie, his eyes moving to where you’re perched on the closed lid of your toilet, arms crossing over your chest and obscuring nearly half the image of your oversized sleeping tee.

Mark’s never seen that fucking T-shirt leave your wardrobe.

Ratty, frayed at the neckline. A faded print of some presidential candidate from how many years ago. He knows you couldn’t even vote then.

“I didn’t get my shit rocked.” Mark speaks, clearing his throat to get rid of the lump because this is the closest he’s been to his best friend in a while. No arguing, no tension. Just you taking care of him, like you always have.

“Fine, you got your shit jostled.” You correct yourself and he snorts, the cut on his bottom lip doing nothing to prevent that dorkish grin from spreading across his face.

“I won, didn’t I?” He brags.

“Barely. Vincible.”

He rolls his eyes at your chide, before resting back against the edge of the tub, soaking his aching muscles in the concoction of Epsom salts and hot water, bubbles frothing at the surface because Mark refuses a bath where he doesn’t get to use your bubble bath.

The scent clings to his skin, and he lets out a breath, taking in that sweet smell before peeking at you from beneath his lashes.

“Put those ladyfingers to work.”

He hums, eyes fluttering shut and he cocks an even wider grin at the sound of you shuffling, wetting your hands before squeezing a generous glob of shampoo into your palm, griping all the way as you rub our palms, waiting patiently until it emulsifies.

Snowy cream is strewn from between your hands before you massage it onto Mark’s scalp, scratching and watching the way his eyes roll back in his head.

His hand moves to grip your thigh, brows scrunching into a pleased frown at the way your nails rake against his skin, scratching at the nape of his neck and your palms work a thick lather into his hair.

“Your hair’s not even dirty.” You huff. And Mark groans in a ploy to shut you up and it works. But not because he’s interrupting you.

But because you’re watching the way suds slide down the side of his neck, settling in the crevice of the muscle and your watching his broad chest heaves, pink lips parting to let out relaxed sighs and you’re questioning everything you’ve ever known.

You know you have a thing for Mark, that’s for sure. You’ve basically lived on the manifestation side of TikTok in an attempt to get him to dream of you, but you never followed up on if he ever did. You’d do little rituals to make him think of you, forcefully but still.

But never once, did you consider the possibility that Mark’s beginning to qualify as ‘fine shyt’.

“Scratch at the crown.” Mark groans quietly, eyes shut to keep out the shampoo and you comply with a silent ‘uh-huh’, scratching at the crown of his head. Inky strands are messy and soapy, and you drag your nails along his scalp one last time, before you’re reaching for the showerhead, and covering Mark’s eyes with one hand, while the other rinses away the suds.

And he sighs, thumb pressing circles into your thigh and you bite down on your bottom lip, trying to stifle the squeak that threatens to spill.

And Mark peers up at you, a perfect brow raising and he hums.

“What’s wrong?”

You know damn well.

“Nothing.” You answer, still chewing on your bottom lip as you rinse his hair. “Just hungry.”

That’s not exactly a lie either.

You’re not too hungry. Well, not hungry enough to be considered hungry but you can eat.

“Big back.” Mark whispers under his breath.

“I’ll drown you.” Your eyes narrow. “Don’t test me.”

You try not to focus on how the scalding waters make his skin flush so prettily, how the light of the bathroom dances on his features and makes the flecks in his iris look golden. And you try not to notice that the smell of him, him and him alone, is mixing with steam and your body wash, and your shampoo.

And you think that having sex with Mark might smell like this.

Heady, sweaty and refreshing. Sweet and musky. Calloused hands pressing your thighs apart, soft lips pressing at your erratic pulse and the way he’d breathe you in like you’re his next lungful of life. The thought makes your skin prickle and you feel an empty ache between your thighs that you’ve never quite felt before.

Your mind drifts to the way his lips would ghost over your ears, the way his biceps would shift to pull you closer, the way a veiny hand would wrap around the base of his swollen, leaky cock, lining him up at your messy cunt before—

“Your heartbeat’s getting fast.” Mark comments. “What’s that about?”

“I’m thinking about holding your head underwater.”

And a smile stretches across your lips.

Under your waters.

𓈒⋆⑅˚₊୨🌼୧₊˚⑅⋆𓈒

“Why do you have so many T-shirts from elections?” Mark questions, rifling through you drawers before settling on one. He pulls it overhead, and you watch the way the muscles of his back flex beneath his skin, and you pull the covers up, over your chest.

And Mark look down at his T-shirt.

“They’re not even all from the same country.” He snorts, muscular legs carrying him over to your bedside before he creeps beneath your blankets, tugging them up to his neck and he presses his face against your shoulder.

Inhaling the scent of your skin, the scent of the sheets he hasn’t been wrapped up in for far too long and he throws an arm over your waist, tugging you into his orbit before pulling you into his chest.

The worn fabric does nothing to tamper with the furnace that Mark’s become, claiming your title as the warm one, and you feel the way he melts against you. Legs entangling with yours, and his nose brushes against the nape of your neck. Calloused fingertips slip beneath the edge of your shirt, tracing along where the ribbed elastic waistband of your shorts cuts into the plush of your hips. Fingers draw patterns on the soft pudge and you turn into a puddle when his lips brush against your pulse.

He's so gentle. Drawing little flowers around your navel, hearts on your lower belly and his fingertips trace along your ribs.

You don’t know how long you’re laying in his arms.

Feeling warm breath fan across the curve of your neck, feeling even warmer fingertips clutch at you like you’re his whole world and for the first time, in a long time, it doesn’t feel like you’re second choice. Not to Eve, not to Amber, not to anyone or anything.

The world quiets down until it’s just you and him. Mingling breaths in the comfort of your bedroom, the soft thud of raindrops hitting the ground, slightly louder when they patter against your windows. And you shift in his grasp, turning to face him instead.

Mark’s heart stutters when your arms wrap around his midsection, your legs following and wrapping around his thighs, your face pressing into the slope of his neck. The ball of your nose is cold, icy almost, he feels the way your lashes flutter as you shut your eyes, and he can hear the steady thrum of your heartbeat.

His hold tightens, chin resting on the crown of your head, feeling the way strands tickle at his face, and Mark inhales. Deep enough until you’re settling in his lungs, fingers clutching at your T-shirt and he curls his body around yours.

And there’s a silence that settles in the room, only interrupted when Mark’s voice breaks it, quiet and so, so very boyish.

“So, are we gonna talk about you peeking through my window, yet?” He whispers teasingly, his hand shifting to the back of your neck where he traces patterns on your nape, the action ticklish enough for you to act on impulse. Tucking your neck, and you peer up at him with narrowed eyes.

“Are we gonna talk about the panties you stole yet?” You bite back, a brow raising and you watch Mark’s lips purse.

“No, we are not.” And he ushers your face back to his neck, his cheeks burning a bright red when e feels your hushed giggles against the sensitive flesh and he breathes out. “You’re an asshole.”

“I’m a gaping asshole.” You correct. “Respect my truth.”

And Mark laugh. Loudly, and you hear that breathy little hitch in his voice, peeking up at him to watch the corners of his eyes crinkle, to watch the way pink lips part and reveal pearly teeth and you linger on his canines. Before moving over to his dimples, to the rosy apples of his cheeks and finally, you drink him in as a whole.

Damp raven strands that fall over his forehead in perfect strands, a sharp jaw and you feel the way his muscles flex as he readjusts his grip on you.

“My bad.” Mark huffs out a snort. “My bad for mischaracterizing you. How can I fix it?”

𓈒⋆⑅˚₊୨🌼୧₊˚⑅⋆𓈒

“This isn’t what I meant.” Mark grumbles, muscles flexing with each movement as he continues to fold, and bend different articles of clothing, brows scrunched into a furrow as he organizes your closet.

“Yeah, but it’s what I want.” You respond with a snort. “An besides, you should be comfortable handling my clothing. You know, since you’re like, half-Korean.”

Mark stares at you, watching the way you take another bite of your cookie. His expression is blank, lips falling open in shock at the easiness of what you just said.

“What the fuck does that mean?” Mark’s brows bunch and you can tell he’s not offended, so much as confused and trying not to laugh.

“You know,” You shrug, “Koreans tend to open dry cleaners.”

“Bullshit.”

“It’s like… Family Guy, they go to a Korean dry cleaner. In American Dad, when Stan opens a dry cleaners with a bunch of strippers, he complains about the Koreans. It’s a statistic.”

Mark’s lips twitch and he curls them inward, trying to stifle the laugh.

“That doesn’t prove anything.”

“You folded more than half of my closet in like, 15 minutes. It’s in your DNA. The D stands for—” “If you say dry cleaning, I’m gonna hit you in the mouth.”

And your lips purse.

And you take a slow, and loud bite of your cookie. And he shuts his eyes, letting out an even breath.

“I hate you so much.”

Mark goes back to folding before he lifts one of the shirts. And he gasps. “You dick, you never gave this back.”

“You kinda left me on a building, so you know.” Your lips purse and Mark winces at the memory. Before looking almost sheepishly ashamed, brows scrunching and his lips tug downwards into a frown.

“I’m sorry about that.” Mark murmurs.

“It’s chill, I got a happy meal out of it.”

He tosses the Seance Dog T-shirt at you. Pretty brown eyes focused on the way you catch the fabric like it’s something precious, holding it to your chest.

Mark doesn’t glance away as you turn your back to him, hands reaching for the edge of your shirt and you pull it overhead. He stares at your back, the curve of your spine, the way your waist curves and suddenly, he’s hiding an erection behind a Pinocchio T-shirt, eyes locked on the way your back flexes as you pull the Seance Dog shirt on, and he watches the fabric fall just below your ass. Fleshy globes only obscured by your ridiculously short cotton shorts and Mark swallows.

Gaze flitting up to meet yours.

“Looks g-good.” He nearly sputters, hands fisting the fabric of the top in his lap and your eyes lower to the veins that bulge at his hands and forearms.

“Did Pinocchio’s nose always look like that?” Your brows furrow.

Mark begins to sweat, droplets forming at his neck and disappearing behind the neckline of his shirt.

“Yeah.” Mark lies. “You got this at that 3D shirt place, remember? You wanted his nose 3D so it looks like you could poke kids in the eye.”

And while you can’t remember, that does sound like something you’d say.

And you plop into your bed, wriggling beneath the covers before you peer at Mark, watching his muscles shift as he continues and you sigh at the sight, bottom lip wedged between your teeth. And your lips part to make a quip, most probably something offensive but you’re interrupted by Mark’s phone, buzzing incessantly and you glance towards the screen.

And it’s the superhero equivalent of Hailey Bieber.

Your lips purse at Eve’s contact, eyes narrowing and you’re already shifting in bed, internally readying yourself for a brief ‘gotta go’.

Mark’s shoulders stiffen as he shifts, his body nearly throwing itself across yours as he reaches for his phone, swiping at the red button. And he turns his phone off, crawling beneath the covers alongside you and his body blankets yours. His face nestles in the curve your neck, his arms tuck themselves beneath the small of your back and he holds you like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do.

And right now, it feels like it is.

For the first time, in a long time, Mark feels… Complete.

Complete and very, very hard. Cock straining against his boxers, precum staining the stretched fabric and he takes a deep breath, inhaling the smell of you. God.

“You’re so warm…” Mark whispers against your skin, his body shifting and your gaze flicks up to your ceiling, and you’re gonna bite off your bottom lip at this point. Every hole of your body is clenched, your mind is working overtime to commit every sense you’re feeling to memory.

You swallow hard when you realise Mark’s hips are wedged between your thighs, layers of fabric doing nothing to make him feel less of the heat between you, and Mark presses his lips against your pulse. The ball of his nose brushes against your earlobe, his hips press against yours and you’re feeling all of him and simultaneously not enough.

Mark’s pressing sweet kisses against your neck, a low sound leaving the back of his throat when he feels the way your head tips back, exposing the supple flesh of your throat. And Mark sighs against your skin, dragging his tongue up your jugular before lifting his head, shifting until his face is above yours.

Lashes fluttering and his head dips.

Mark’s lips meet yours in a soft kiss. Uncoordinated, so unpracticed, and so, so hot. Mark’s lips move against yours in the sweetest way, hands pawing at your waist, pulling you closer and he loves the way your thighs press against his waist, soft. Inviting.

And so warm.

He loves the way your fingers sink into his hair, nails dragging and carding through his hair, strands slipping from between your fingers. The covers keep the two of you entangled, and Mark can’t think of anywhere else he’d rather be than here.

With you.

In your dimly lit room, while your TV plays as background noise. Unable to drown out your sighs, Mark’s hums and the way your body feels against his. He can feel the way your nipples harden beneath that oversized T-shirt, and with each shift of his chest, he hears that whine you let out.

And he swallows your syrupy sweet whines, your tongue tastes like cookies and he feels the way your thighs tremble at his sides.

“Wrap your legs around me.” Mark breathes out. “Please…” His breaths are so hot, fanning against your neck and his hands shift, grasping at your hips with so much want that the action alone has your panties clinging to your cunt.

He lifts his head, soft eyes focused on the way your cheeks are burning even hotter than his, your lashes fluttering and your legs are following his command, wrapping around his waist and he nearly moans at the feel of your heels digging into his lower back, bringing him closer.

And Mark’s head falls against your shoulder.

His hips roll against yours, messy and so unpracticed. You feel the way his cock presses against you, and you nearly whine.

Swallowing hard when he speaks softly. No... Not speaks.

Begs.

“Can I fuck you?”

T🌼A🌼G🌼L🌼I🌼S🌼T

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