#pokemon advanced challenge

[solthecontestshipper]

red

he likes the color red, and he likes her

[starabsol]

okay so this is like a rant and questions and shit i have on my mind about pokemon advanced/contestshipping because i can

something that has always confused me is— where the HELL did solidad come from? during the entirety of the hoenn contest circuit we never saw her, neither in the entirety of the kanto circuit UNTIL the grand festival. and you can go and counter this with a “she only started participating in contests during the kanto circuit” which like, yes, is reasonable. there’s one thing that very much bothers me though. in the spontaneous combusken episode brianna (who looked up to drew) literally STATED may was the only female coordinator he had respect for. and she is OBSESSED with him, and watched all of his contests, by the way. and then, SOLIDAD COMES IN??? HUH??? atp i’m convinced solidad was like a last minute decision to say some shit about drew because obviously he ain’t the character so do so himself, and that feels so wrong to me. like her only reason of existence in the anime is just to spill stuff from drew’s past or whatever.. you could’ve introduced her sooner, and then later it could’ve been like “woah! she knows DREW?” but no she just came out of nowhere and that was it. ok so that’s point one

secondly, why did they only reveal the reason harley dislikes may so much is at the END of the kanto circuit? a whole ass season after they even met? like we get convinced in the beginning he just hates this girl because he called his pokemon scary and didn’t go all crazy over his cookies, and then like bam this girl that looked like her stole his cookies and that’s why he’s so angry. so what was the point of the first reason he hated her so much..??? and with this you could counter “well he didn’t recognize her yet” would be fair except they look exactly the fuckinf same, OR “he just kept it to himself” which i find not so fitting as harley, each time we get a shot of him just doing his own thing, he talks to himself and is just constantly rambling about. so if he DID recognize her, i feel like he would’ve said at least SOMETHING about that.

thirdly, why the hell was drew in only 2 contests along with may? ONLY FUCKING TWO leading up to both of the grand festivals. which like, all right, i do understand, they want their battles to be long awaited and heated, totally fair. but it feels so wrong to call him a main rival, if, out of quite a few contests she participated in, she only battled him face to face once, in her first contest. the rest of the things he really only did is just keep an eye on may and make a haughty comment here and there to piss her off, and stopping harley, a few times. it’s exciting, sure, but it would’ve been so much more rewarding if may won from him after more than just two losses (in actual competitions) but, again, that’s the way i look at it.

fourth, this is much rather more rambling than a straight up question i ask myself every so often, but… i’ve read a shit ton of contestshipping fics. and thing i noticed very frequently is that in the stories that are written drew always has a burning hatred against harley, which feels odd. because, during the entirety of the series, the only moment he really got mad was after the whole assist commotion. the rest of the times? he laughed him off, for instance after harley lost to may in the hoenn grand festival, and in mays last contest before the kanto grand festival. "arent you smart!” and the “you better not make me any angrier drew” “back at ya” like bro this mf does not feel threatened by him AT ALL. he even complimented that he raised his pokemon very well, which, i am sure he wouldn’t have said if he hated him as much as people make out as he does. and the brianna being really fuckinf bratty and evil thing… if anything she’d seem somewhat of a sensitive and shy girl, in worst case scenario she’d call into a depression if they got together or something.

fifth, and my last question, how the hell are there enough contests to give out ribbons? aren’t there like, more than 200 participants in one grand festival? and every coordinator needs at least 5 ribbons? that means 1000 ribbons to be given out, in one year, in one region. and you have like the wallace cup thing, but it’s held every year, and the ribbon from the wallace cup can be used in any region, so that’s barely filling anything in. so where the HELL do the 999 ribbons come from? wouldn’t they have to hold like a dozen of contests? because, obviously, there’s coordinators who have less than 5 ribbons, unable to enter in the grand festival, which means there’s only more ribbons to add up to the 1000 total. and yeah, more ribbons could be given out in smaller contests in smaller towns, but there was never much mention of that. it’s just really fucking vague

that was my rant. please tell me what you think………please

[zponds]

[otakuman-san]

May 26th

Watching the stars at Kalos with some new friends!

[sleepycicada]

can u send me 3 emojis so i can make a mlp oc

[wevelocityteampresents-blog]

I wanted to share this during Pokémon Day. But I got caught up with other things in life.

The greatest star Hoenn has to offer.

[nixeau]

You know it's gone bad if you finished Pokemon Emerald, Fire Red, White 2, Platinum, Soul Silver and Blazed Glazed in the span of 2 and a half weeks

[that-starry-eyed-girl-22]

Unpopular Opinion:

Pokemon: Advanced Challenge had the best opening theme song amongst all the seasons. Change my mind.

[kiloude-city]

I will always get whiplash every time a random youtuber uses unwavering emotions jokingly because of something stupidly "sad".

[xxtc-96xx]

I'm kind of torn between the anime taking liberties to make battles more visually interesting over being accurate to the games. It can make things more interesting and some things are just logical (Vine Whip working as hands for grass types without hands), but on the other hand... "Aim for the horn!"

sometimes it was whatever but sometimes they were really just pulling things outta their ass until the story decided to end it XD Max started as annoying but at least he's finally around to point out what the actual type advantages are

(on my binge of all the pokemon episodes, currently in Advanced Challenge)

[baronessvonglitter]

The Haunting of David York

Dave York x ghost!reader

Word count: 2.6K

Summary: It's a typical Halloween night for Dave. The last thing he expects is for you to come back and get your revenge.

(Spoilers below the cut, so resume with caution)

WARNINGS: Rated M; Dead Dove Do Not Eat; mentions of wet work, murder, brief gore, threats of violence towards family, major character death (don't hit me)

Author's Note: this fic is for @mermaidgirl30 Jamie's Halloween Writing Challenge 👻 thank you for hosting this lovely fic challenge!

The idea for this started out as a random discussion about why we're afraid of ghosts if they can't really hurt anyone.. then I wanted to add our favorite suburban murder daddy to a ghost story and got some inspo from watching old school stuff like Creepshow and early seasons of AHS. (I haven't written horror in a very long time, so gimme a little break)

Shoutout to @yorksgirl for the Dave chit chats-- there will be a sweatpants scene in another fic, promise!

"Dave, not again!" Carol whines from the front steps.

"What?" he asks innocently, hefting the human-sized 'body bag' consisting of garbage bags stuffed with leaves and tied up with duct tape to fashion a corpse decoration in the yard for Halloween. Dave has been working on them all day. He's now up to seventeen.

"The HOA is going to complain," his wife shakes her head. "We got away with a warning last year. This time they'll definitely fine us."

"It's worth it to see the looks on everyone's faces," he insists. "Besides, I'll have them picked up and out of sight by the end of the night. I promise."

Dave doesn't love Halloween, but neither does he mind it. People dressing up to be anything other than themselves for one night only? Try doing that 24/7.

He doesn't get to parade around the Mr. Hyde aspect of his life. He doesn't get to knock on doors while in tactical gear, sniper rifle resting in one arm while he sticks an orange jack-o-lantern bucket out to get a handful of tooth-rotting sweets. He doesn't get to wake up on November first and pretend it was all for fun.

It's a silly holiday, but he likes scaring the shit out of the neighbors with the decorations. And his kids love planning their costumes months in advance. Alice is going as a zombie cheerleader (he never understands where these ideas come from) and Molly is some type of Pokemon Dave thinks is a squirrel but she insists is something called an Evoo or Evie or something completely asinine.

Carol usually insists on taking them out trick-or-treating, dressing up herself in a last-minute Minnie Mouse getup, a red sweater and black leggings, and a headband with sequined mouse ears to complete the look.

"You'll be okay here by yourself?" she asks, putting the finishing touches on her mouse whiskers and nose with liquid eye liner in the hall mirror as the girls wait impatiently to leave.

She asks that every year, as if something bad will happen on his watch, as if he can't hack it alone for a couple of hours.

"Unless Michael Myers or Pennywise show up, I'm pretty sure I'll be fine," he says, giving the girls a quick kiss before they go.

"What's Pennywise?" Alice asks as Carol herds them out the door, and she shoots her husband an annoyed glance.

There aren't as many trick-or-treaters this year, and Dave regrets that he'd bought so much candy. He dips his hand into the large tub of mini chocolate bars and fruit-flavored chews that stick to one's teeth and selects some Nerds, eating them straight from the tiny box. With barely concealed disgust he finds the candy corn, plucking the small packets of the hated sweets out from the bowl. He doesn't know how anyone can eat these. These can go to the next kids who ring the doorbell. When the next round of costumed kids come around he gives out huge handfuls. The less sweets they have in the house, the less sugar-fueled meltdowns he's likely to experience from his kiddos.

When there's more of a lull he relaxes on the sofa, mindlessly unwrapping a chocolate bar as the Halloween song hums from the TV, The Nightmare Before Christmas playing where the girls had left it on:

Boys and girls of every age wouldn't you like to see something strange? come with us and you will see this, our town of Halloween

He finds his glass of Macallan pairs nicely with a mini Hershey's Special Dark chocolate that he knows the little trick-or-treaters won't appreciate. The candy rests on his tongue as he savors the lingering taste of the scotch while the movie keeps playing. He absorbs a little of it, a now thirty-year-old film that came out when he was his kids' age. He watches idly, letting the scotch lull him into a nice semi-rest.

This is Halloween, this is Halloween pumpkins scream in the dead of night this is Halloween, everybody make a scene trick or treat, 'til the neighbors gonna die of fright

Enough of the singing. He changes the channel. There's postseason baseball on TV, but his favorite team isn't in the playoffs, and the announcers are annoying. Click. Of course there's a horror marathon on every channel. All the Scream movies, which he can appreciate for their ingenuity, Psycho, Shaun of the Dead, the entire Friday the 13th franchise even though it's Thursday, the 31st.

He flips channels, mindlessly, watching tidbits of each, digging into the leftover candy once again when he hears a thud.

With feline alertness he mutes the TV and sits up straight in one swift move. He zones in on where the sound came from, waiting, his racing heart the most audible sound in his ears.

Most people listen for a sound and relax when they don't hear it again, chalking it up to the house settling, or a rodent in the attic. But Dave knows better. He's been on the opposite side of this type of situation countless times. He doesn't relax and just chalk it up to mundane things like other people, because he knows there are guys like him out there-- becoming one with the shadows, as silent as possible--

It's coming from the back door.

In stealth mode, he grabs his gun from the safe in his study and quickly, skillfully, loads it. Adrenaline sings in his veins, carries him towards the danger. He flips on the light switch for the patio and the lights glare into the dark, lighting up nothing. His gun is still in his hand as he slowly opens the door, listening for footsteps.

Quiet.

A little disappointed that he's gotten riled up for no reason, he sighs as the rush of adrenaline dissipates and leaves him weak for a brief moment.

He keeps the gun in the holster at his side as he returns to the sofa, a little more on edge. It could be just teenage assholes playing pranks out of boredom, but he doesn't want to risk it.

He shuts the TV off and the silence becomes the largest thing in the room, even louder than his thoughts. He's taut as wire, not allowing himself to relax just yet. He's listening for more sounds. Most are explainable: a slow drip in the kitchen sink that Carol told him about just yesterday, the notification pings on his daughter's tablet that she left on the dining room table.

"Fuck!" he curses in surprise as the TV turns on, The Nightmare Before Christmas still playing where it left off:

I am the one hiding under your bed, teeth ground sharp and eyes glowing red I am the one hiding under your stairs fingers like snakes and spiders in my hair

Dave quickly snaps the TV off, removing the batteries from the remote.

It's just some electrical glitch he tells himself. And then the power goes out completely.

"Shit," he mutters, using his phone to light the way to locate the real flashlight. It's not in the cabinet beneath the kitchen sink where it's supposed to be left. Carol must have moved it. He checks the garage. Through the windows he can see the neighbors still have power, so he grabs the trusty flashlight and checks the breaker box. After fiddling with it, it won't reset. The flips do absolutely nothing.

Heaving a frustrated sigh, he pinches the bridge of his nose, taking out his phone from his pocket. The battery shows 1% before fizzling out to a black screen with the gray spinning wheel before dying.

"You've got to be shitting me," he grumbles. With another curse, he shoves the useless thing back in his pocket, letting the flashlight guide him out of the garage. He may as well get the keys and go try to find Carol and the girls, who are probably several blocks over by now, maybe get them to stay at her mother's place while he gets things sorted out with the power issue.

And then..

he hears the sound of his name spoken, a sharp. accusatory whisper, as if it's right next to him. It's so real he can feel the cold breath against his ear. It makes him jump out of his skin.

Alert, his body tense and ready for action, his eyes dart around the room as he begins to get his bearings back and his heart goes back to its normal rhythm.

Stupid.. he curses himself, sitting upright again. Annoyance colors his face.

But the sound of it.. of your voice still rings in his ear. And he'd know your voice among a thousand others.

Now he knows he's imagining things, because it couldn't have been your voice at all.

You're dead.

He doesn't want to think about that day, a cold autumn day just like this. In fact it'll be one year exactly on November 14th. The last day you saw sunlight, the last day you ever breathed.

It's not that you were bad, you were just in the way. There was no room for you in Dave's perfect, clock-precision life. He tried to make your end painless, make sure you didn't see it coming.

Some secrets don't stay buried forever..

Nobody knows he assures himself. It's impossible.. He'd even kept it from his teammates, and they knew nearly every damn thing about him.

No, this particular job.. the handling of you, had to be done on his own.

Casting a glance at the backyard patio again, the light from his neighbor's back porch glows eerily, spotlighting the patch of earth Dave had avoided until finally he'd caved and erected a bird bath with a small garden, a surprise for Carol's birthday. His wife never suspected that you were buried there, beneath her gift.

Without thinking, he's already walking outside, gun in one hand, flashlight in the other, leading the way to your grave. He never comes out here anymore. The guilt has become too crushing and he's not a man who dwells on guilt. He does what he has to and revisits the issue if problems arise.

You won't arise, though. When he closes his eyes he can still see the bullet hole in your temple, the blank look as the light left your eyes.

Forgive me, he'd thought, unable to speak it aloud as he stuffed your body in a bag and placed you in the dirt on a moonless autumn night.

When he reaches the stone path that leads to your innocent-looking grave marker, he has to process what he sees:

there's a hole in the ground, where some of the rocks and flowers around the bird bath have been upheaved, and in the breeze his flashlight shines on a tattered, empty black body bag. The scent of death greets his nostrils as he pales, trying not to vomit.

He goes back to the house, immediately on the defensive, irrationally expecting to find you there, clothes dirty and hair caked with mud and blood, a specter of his own paranoia and guilt.

It's still shrouded in darkness, the home that is supposed to be his shelter from such dark things as yourself. It's his domain, his castle, and in this trouble, without his family, he feels like less of a king.

"There's no fucking way," he mutters, stomach roiling with fear and suspicion. He opens the patio door and steps inside.

The whole place smells of death, of the grave.

You're in every corner, quiet, waiting, watching. But not impassive.

He feels you everywhere, himself made small by your ubiquitous pall. The gun in his hand feels useless, and this makes him angry.

You feed off his anger. You love it. It's the only thing you can feel anymore. Pure, unadulterated hate.

You slither towards him, wicked grin growing bigger as you approach him. Dave gets the chills down his back, not knowing just how close you are to him.

"Boo" you whisper lightly, ghostly breath caressing the shell of his ear.

Your cackling thunders in his ears as he whips around, eyes wide with fright. You delight in the fear he's giving off. The scent of it it so intoxicating. It's the only good thing about being dead.

"I should make your death as nice and quick and clean as you made mine" your voice echoes all around the room. Dave looks equal parts pissed and afraid as he tries to track you.

"But I won't."

You've been waiting for this night, this one unholy night where you'd be allowed to come back, to gather the unearthly powers granted to you. Halloween: the one night of the year when the living come back to haunt the dead.

And the son of a bitch had the gall to kill you in November. You had to wait almost a whole year for your revenge.

Gonna make it sweet.

It takes a lot of energy to assume something of a human form, but as you grab onto the fear he's giving off, as you use the most ancient of forces to pull your corporeal parts together, it gets easier. You don't feel afraid. You haven't, not since he killed you.

"Consider yourself lucky it's only you I'm after. If I had my way your family's blood would be splattered on these walls along with yours."

Dave shivers violently. "Please, don't!" He's not used to begging or pleading. He's actually on his knees. He tries not to look at you; your visage is too grotesque. Your flesh is falling off your face and your eyes are sunken into your head, giving a ghoulish appearance.

You force his gaze upon you with the ice-cold touch of your hand. "Your family is safe. For now. Hell, there's always next Halloween."

With the cracking open of his ribcage and the spilling of his guts you reach into him, finding the fullness of the heart, the organ he uses the least.

All Dave can do is scream and scream and scream.

The next day Carol sits at the dining room table, two detectives with her. Her coffee has grown cold, barely touched. She still bears the remnants of the makeup she'd put on to complete her costume last night. The girls are upstairs. She couldn't bear sending them to school, having them apart from her. Not while Dave is missing.

"He was fine last night. Normal," she adds, shrugging as she dabs at her eyes with a Kleenex.

Because of his position as a government agent, his disappearance is being taken very seriously. Officers are en route, dispatched to start searching the area, especially the nearby woods, which Carol has always feared.

Dave's gun is there, his wallet, phone, and keys also left behind.

One of the field officers comes in (there have been many people coming in and out of the house today) and motions to the backyard. "Halloween decoration?"

"Yeah," Carol sniffles, smiling just a little. "Dave likes to shock the neighbors. He promised he'd put them away before the morning.. but he never puts them out back.."

Out of guilt, or maybe just to give herself something to do, she gets up and goes to put the decorations away. The detectives follow.

Funny. There's just one.. she thinks, looking at the lone body bag on the lawn, tossed haphazardly next to her bird bath.

It's heavier than she expects. She's too petite to pick it up. Sighing, she kneels, the crunch of the fallen leaves beneath her knees. She'll just take the leaves out and throw the bag away.

Ripping it open with her nails she's stunned a moment, not processing what she's seeing before she lets out a bloodcurdling scream.

Wrapped up in the duct taped body bag is what's left of Dave.

dividers by @saradika-graphics 👑

tagging @almostempty @itwasntimethatdidit40 @milla-frenchy @salingers @zascal

[solthecontestshipper]

it matters where she is

[elbdot]

Congrats on concluding such a tremendous community feat OP! It was fascinating to see your posts about them here, and I am quite thankful for the people who were able to obtain footage of some of your matches; I was so curious!! About how everyone was doing their playstyles! My favorite spectator sport LMAO

Also shoutout to Shadic the one victor whose footage made it to the compilation, that man was A KILLER JESUS. That had to have been a brutal time

Thank you so much!! :D I'm glad you enjoyed watching the few battle videos we put up!!

And yes THAT EVO-BOOST SETUP WAS SO CRUEL, I felt like the biggest idiot when it hit me 😂 The second match where Shadic promised not to use any gimmick teams didn't end well for me either tbh :'D But I'm proud to say I fiNALLY managed to win against him on a third match against his Dark type team, I didn't think it was possible to beat him AT ALL with his far more advanced competitive knowledge (I know like - the basics, my team is competitively trained, I know about...most abilities and favored movesets of often used Pokemon, but I'm not that familiar with the actual competitive scene), but alas...I GOT MY REVENGE

I wish we would have been able to record even more matches 😂 There was an absolutely legendary match where one of the challengers, Allie, managed to defeat my entire remaining team of 4 Pokemon with her LAST standing Baile Style Oricorio. I WAS NOT EVEN MAD, THAT WAS AN AMAZING TURN OF EVENTS As a huge Oricorio-fan, being defeated by one still counts as a win in my book LMAO

Unfortunately we only had ONE person on the server with the equipment to record battles and not only is it an INCREDIBLY time-consuming endeavor, but some of the codes for battle videos I put up online didn't even work for some reason, so we only got 6 videos up, but man, I'm glad we have ANY material up AT ALL 😭

Maybe I'll treat myself to a capture card one day, but right now that's over 200€ I don't feel comfortable in spending 😅😂 MAYBE ONE DAY...

[zponds]

[pokemonshelterstories]

How do you keep psychic types (and other really smart pokemons) stimulated and happy while caring for many other pokemons ?

While it's calmer than when it was a Solosis on our first journey, I think my Reuniclus would be unhappy if I took a job that kept me indoors most of the time... Makes me think that it must be harder for shelters since they got limited time and ressources :(

it's mostly about finding the right kinds of enrichment for them. some pokemon are obviously more challenging in that regard than others- keeping a gardevoir happy is a lot harder than keeping a wurmple happy, for example, because their cognitive and social needs are more intense.

of course, this is not a problem unique to just psychic types! and not all psychic types are the same. i'd say lycanroc is harder to properly enrich than a slowpoke. but for those psychic types that do have more advanced cognitive enrichment needs? i find that one of the best things you can do for them is give them puzzles and toys intended for young humans! sensory toys that require them to manipulate objects using their psychic powers while also stimulating their advanced mental capabilities are great ways to keep them happy, especially if you can incorporate a food reward into it.

it's also important to consider the specific behaviors of the pokemon in question. for your reuniclus, remember that they often prefer to use their arms to explore the world around them, and they really like to crush and hit things with their arms. building blocks for example would be a good way to encourage those natural behaviors!

[feministmetalgreymon]

The reality behind the Palworld vs Pokemon contreversy

I have been a lifelong Pokemon fan. And one thing I have observed is there are two kinds of Pokemon fans.

One type of Pokemon fan is what I call the sane fans. They acknowledge Pokemon is one game in a long line of monster taming games. They may like or prefer Pokemon over other monster taming franchises but they acknowledge those franchises legitimacy rather than dismissing them as Pokemon clones and rip offs.

The other type is the insane Pokemon fans. These are the people who will insist, despite evidence to the contrary, that Pokemon is the first and only original monster taming game. And accuse any monster taming game of being a Pokemon rip off. If a monster taming franchise looks like it might be become popular they immediately lie about it and slander it. And if it doesn't become a "Pokemon Killer" they deride it as a failure that wasn't as good as Pokemon.

I have seen these insane Pokemon fans attack any monster taming game including franchises that predate Pokemon like Shin Megami Tensei and Dragon Quest. When Tem Tem came out they swarmed social media with accusations that Tem Tem was just a lazy Pokemon clone. And now they want people to take them seriously when they call Palworld a Pokemon rip off. Yeah sure.🙄

Palworld isn't even in the same game genre as Pokemon let alone being a Pokemon clone. Palworld is a survival crafting game with a monster taming mechanic. The Pals you tame aren't just used for fighting like in Pokemon. They are also used for chores like crafting, farming, building and gathering resources. The only similarities Pokemon and Palworld shares is a small number of vaguely similar parody designs.

The only thing that has changed is that now that the Pokemon games have declined in quality. Fewer people are willing to take the insane Pokemon fans seriously. When Game Freak released Pokemon Scarlet and Violet and it was a broken buggy mess. That was a wake up call to the Pokemon fandom. They realized that blindly worshipping a billionaire dollar corporation was a bad idea. And so they started trying other monster collecting franchises like Digimon, Nexomon, Cassette Beast, Dragon Quest Monsters and now Palworld.

They realized that they were missing out on a lot of good games by worshipping Pokemon and insisting it's the best just because it's more popular. And that's when Palworld came along.

You want a monster taming game where you fight alongside your monsters. Palworld has it. You want to use your monsters for more than just fighting. Palworld has it. You want a large and challenging open world. Palworld has it. You want to play with your friends. Palworld has it. You want to build a base and watch as your monsters perform tasks. Palworld has it. You want creature breeding mechanics that aren't slow and tedious grinding. Palworld has it. You want deep creature raising sim mechanics. Palworld has it.

Despite all of the attempts to accuse Palworld of "plagiarizing" Palworld. Palworld has improved drastically on the Pokemon formula and has added more interactivity and depth to it. This is why insane Pokemon fans hate Palworld. They can't argue that Palworld has worse gameplay than Pokemon. So instead they make the issue about "originality".

"Originality" has nothing to do with how good or well done a game is. But it works as a distraction from debates about quality. By making the Palworld debate about originality they don't have to discuss how broken and buggy the Pokemon games are. Nor acknowledge any of the improvements and advances Palworld has made to the monster taming genre. Instead the debate becomes about who did what first.

The reality is it doesn't matter who did what first, what matters is who did it best.