#the pokemon world is a great one for strangers to lift each other up

[haematophiliac]

seginbeats​:

Sableye’s claws scratched against the aged brick as he rushed along the wall of the alleyway, jumping in and out of the heavily draped shadows cast by Levincia’s buildings. Somewhere, a siren blares, causing the nuisance to whip his head around, that awful grin faltering when he noticed he was being chased. Using the side of the building as a spring board, Sableye caught himself on the railing of a fire escape with one hand, and continued to grasp the stolen Poke Ball with the other. Off he went, determined to deliver the goods to his master. Enough gymnastics, and the cretin vanished, hoping that he had created enough space between him and the one in pursuit.

–

Elsewhere, Giacomo had been parked on a set of stairs outside of an alcove, eyes on his laptop, Mabosstiff laying at his feet. Slouched with poor posture, he hadn’t a thought in the world to what the evening may bring. This was just another round of petty thievery in order to get by; Sableye would scamper away to lift some credit cards and cash off of some poor unaware tourists, he’d have enough money to get by for a little longer, and so on. With one ear covered by his headphones, he nearly missed the way that Sableye all but FLUNG himself around the corner, hissing and panting.

Giacomo’s brows furrowed with confusion.

“Whatchu all worked up for?” He leaned up, and noticed the Poke Ball in those creepy little hands. Sableye’s teeth connected with the top portion of it, intent on gnawing the damn thing open.

“Aye, gimme that– where’d ya get that?” His laptop is shut, set aside on the step as the deliquent jumped down and snatched at the ball, his thumb pressing into the release button on accident.

What occurred next was far too fast for Giacomo to process.

Something manifests from the capsule, something vicious, a paleolithic creature that Giacomo hadn’t ever seen before. And it did NOT appear passive, nor pleased on being released by the hands of a stranger. In fact– he could swear that it was downright malicious.

–

Mabosstiff’s barking is loud and disruptive, echoing off of the sides of the building, her intimidate ability kicking in to try and corner the freakishly powerful Pokemon as Giacomo stumbled back with injury. Not realizing it, he had thrown his arms up in front of his face when the monster retaliated with a mighty slash of its sickles, and he sustained a gnarly cut from the left wrist, across the right arm, down to his elbow. Full of far too much adrenaline and shock to register what was happening, instead of shouting for help, he fell back against the steps, eyes wide and arms shaking, blood dripping down to his shoes. To the right, he stares at the wall, and the way that Sableye skitters back, a crack in one of his gemstones on his back, and to the left, he sees something, or someone approaching, that he isn’t certain would make this situation better, or worse.

“Sh-shit–” He swallows, and holds his breath. He’s been caught! The cops are going to get called, fuck, this is bad.

     Far from wanting to lose the cheeky little Sableye, and the Poké ball it would no doubt ruin or simply lose, Jax had followed to the best of his ability, using all his strength to clamber up the fire escape as fast as humanly possible, taking each rung with a hard grasp and spring iof the feet. Any other day and he would welcome a good workout, but this was tiring and, if he were closer to being normal, then he would probably be anxious, albeit his mind still currently whirring with bad thoughts. But he doesn’t break a sweat from mental distress nor physical labour alike. 

     “Shit.”

     It’s not there. Having reached the top, the fucking gremlin isn’t there. Even as he glances around, the little shit just isn’t in sight. Yet he can’t give up, give in. No. He has to find it, find the Poké ball. Get it back. Then go home. This was a bad idea all in all, bringing the savage giant to a different place. And of course it had to all go tits up in the air. Great.

     ... ... ...

     Vivid blue eyes glance around in the night, the figure of Jax just wandering around once again having clambered back down the fire escape, more than welcoming solid ground below his feet. His head pounds and his fingers ache from clenching so hard in frustration, threatening to have the nails break the skin of his palms, and just about ready to move on to another area, he hears it.

     Chaotic barking.

     It’s a stretch, but maybe it has something to do with what he’s looking for. So he runs in the direction from where it presumably comes from, speeding around a corner, then another and another, furiously traversing the backstreets as fast as possible. 

     And there it is. Kabutops.

     Assessing the scene with a fast glance, he can tell the situation is bad, and not just because someone has seen the monster. There’s blood on the ground below a younger guy who seems to be bleeding quite heavily, and that’s cause for concern. Not because someone is hurt, but because if this escalates any further then perhaps there would be a dead body on the ground with police questioning things much faster than he could get it covered up by his colleagues. 

     But, in the end? He isn’t going to put himself in harms way. 

     He wasn’t able to bring anything to tame the Pokémon with due to the travel laws and all that, so there is no way he can just have it stop its attacks like he could back at home, leaving him thinking that perhaps he shouldn’t have brought this mad creature with him.

     But he always needs protection, and a gun was out of the question.

     “Kid. Listen.” He starts, voice cool, calm, hands rising slightly, the Kabutops hissing low as it hears that all too familiar voice behind itself. But it doesn’t turn, doesn’t acknowledge Jax as a threat. It has found a weak target to enact its rage upon, and so it shall take its fill of bloodshed to sate its berserk mind. “Get your damn Pokémon to attack it and I’ll get the ball to recall it---...”

     Instantly, there’s another hiss, Kabutops’s head twisting around. It had obviously heard Jax speaking and wasn’t impressed by the idea. Jax shows he’s empty handed, not a threat, taking a hefty step backwards. At seven feet tall and built like a tank, this monster could easily slaughter everybody and everything in the current moment. One slip up and they’re all dead.

     “Just do something.”

[manchasama]

Let’s do another one then.

So I definitely have a habit of daydreaming where a fanfic might be going, or where I wished it would have gone instead.  That happened recently I think in combination of reading We Will Always Have Each Other and Detours so...yeah.

So many fics have someone "talk sense" into Emmet instead of letting him rush to his brother's side.  And sure sometimes they do let him rush over, but it's usually somehow more local, not across continents or anything.  So I guess what I'm saying is I'm going to steal that idea of a local Sinnoh broadcast of "do you know this man"

And boy howdy, did they not expect what happened next.

See, people have been looking for a hint of Ingo since the disappearance.  You have the important, high up friends, reaching out to other important, high up friends.  The search didn't go too far out of Nimbasa and the Unova region, but there were some people who were aware of what happened.  But more importantly, trainers, adventurers, travelers.  They most assuredly know, and travel the globe.

It starts slow.  A friend calls a friend in Unova, passing on a link to the news segment.  Word spreads quickly among the people as excitement builds.  Could it be?  Some gym leader pings the local gym leader, asking if this wasn't the brother they'd asked them to look out for so long ago?  After that word travels to Emmet immediately.

And there's no pause.  There's no stopping.  No one needs to be told, no one needs to ask questions.  Emmet just starts running out of the Subway, coat flapping behind him.  In the streets people are starting to gather, starting to make their way to transports, excitedly talking in groups, passing the word on faster and further.  

As Emmet burst out of the subway, there's cheers, cries, encouragement.  People running along side him, clearing the path in front of him, all wanting to help, to be there for one of their beloved Subway Masters.  And the Pokemon trainers rally, those with flying pokemon swooping in and calling out.  Not even pausing to land, just reaching out a beseeching hand.  And Emmet leaps, is lifted, up into their arms and into the sky, a small procession heading for the other continent.

(Behind them, people pour onto trains, onto travel pokemon, any means possibly and begin heading for Sinnoh.  They need to greet one of their own, welcome him back from where he'd been.)

The flight is long, and tiring for a pokemon carrying two.  Others offer to take over, Emmet letting himself fall from one and onto another.  Such a danger they'd normally never allow, but they can't stop.  Not when everyone had been waiting for this moment for so long.

They land at the hospital, and there's no need to ask who Emmet is.  It's wildly obvious.  He's let through, police waved away so as not to interfere, and he finally can reunite with his brother.

There's some roadblocks.  Ingo doesn't remember it all, after all.  How can he slot back into a space and a world that has moved on without him?  But he's there, and that means more than anything at this point.  

Emmet just laughs, incredulous.  What does Ingo mean?  No one has forgotten him.  And outside, people begin arriving, anxious to see Ingo alive and well.  Sinnoh is invaded by Unovians who have waited years for their beloved Subway Master to return.

Have you seen this man?  Yes, says Unova, we have.  And we welcome him home.

[imjeralee]

Comfort in Despair: Chapter 29 - Deimos

Leon x F!Reader

Disclaimer: Do not own Pokemon

Summary:

Galar is rich in folklore and tales of the supernatural.

As a Pokemon Researcher who specialises in ghost types, this is a great opportunity for you to investigate and learn more about the paranormal.

Along the way, you meet Leon (in the most awkward way possible) who becomes embroiled in your adventures.

^ Basically this story is about ghosts :/

Rating: General/Teen

@marydragneell​ here is the latest update

Deimos

…

…

[There's Nothing Here.]

…

…

Gengar has safely taken you to the Wild Area, carrying you on his back.

The shadow has disappeared along the way, seemingly decided to give up pursuing you, for now.

Your mind has been unable to settle, to register the horrific incidents that had just taken place. Your Pokemon are dead. You were attacked in your own home. Nothing is safe.

A little voice in your mind has popped up, wanting to be heard, and it’s all about giving up. It would be so easy to quit, to surrender and submit to it all - whether it be your fate or destiny, or maybe it had been this way all along and this was how it was meant to be right from the very start, but for some reason, you had resisted it.

For a long time, you had not experienced fear but tonight, it had all come crashing back to you. You realised how helpless you were, how tiny and insignificant everything truly was.

As Gengar descends, having found a suitable place for landing, the cold rush of wind that hits you provides a tiny window of clarity.

No, I can’t give up. It’s only just begun.

You let out a choked rasp of anguish. A loud gasp rips from the back of your throat and a single tear pours from the corner of your eyes. No, no, this won't do. Squeezing your fist into a tight ball, you regather your composure and quickly squeeze your eyes shut, shaking your head before re-opening your eyes.

Whatever it is, you're determined to make it pay.

You will destroy it, if it's the last thing you do.

The change of scenery from the sleepy town of Wedgehurst to the vast and empty expanse of the Dusty Bowl is unfamiliar to you. The Wild Area is so dark and empty, it’s unsettling. You think back to your researching days, when you would spend many nights here on your own, in the dark, in the wildnerness with nothing but a torch, some food and pokedolls…and wonder how on earth did you do it?  

When the pokemon lets you off, Gengar helps you sit down on a rock where you can gather your thoughts. You haven’t spoken since the ordeal and it looks like you’re still in shock. Your face is pale from fright yet your expression is impassive.

He’s worried, and he asks Mimikyu to help whilst he stays by your side: you've essentially run from home in your pyjamas and with no shoes, so she is tasked to find you some warm clothes.

The doll departs and quickly finds a campsite nearby – she spies a young couple sleeping inside their tents and sneakily ransacks their supplies, grabbing a pair of socks, shoes from the backpacker girl along with her coat.

Mimikyu returns with her goodies and hands them to you; she’s surprised you’re not reprimanding her as you usually would whenever she does something bad or wrong.

Instead, you silently don a stranger’s shoes and coat...and then you check the contents of your bag. You didn't pack much, if anything at all. Also, Rotom is missing. You must have left him at home.

Gengar and Mimikyu watch as you come across your radio next, pull it out and turn it round, switching it on, only for a horrific static noise to come blaring out followed by a deep male’s voice iterating the nursery rhyme “Ring-a-round-a-rosie,” repeatedly.

You hurriedly switch it off but the voice continues and seeing how shaken you are, Gengar slaps it out of your hands and onto the ground before he proceeds to stomp on the device, breaking it in half. To top it all off, he shoots it into smithereens with a Dark Pulse.  

“Thanks.”

He gives you a nod of acknowledgement.

Next, you fish Vulpix’s capsule and release her. Once she emerges, your pokemon looks up at you expectantly. Your small team fall into line together and you glance at them all as they wait for your next instructions.

With a deep breath, you release a sigh and close your eyes briefly, then reopen them.

“…There's something after me, and it kills pokemon,” you utter, “Cutiefly and Sunkern are dead. The khira dagger broke and the talismans didn’t work. I don't know what it is. It's not a human, pokemon, spirit...I don't even think it's a demon. I can’t really explain it and I know how it sounds, but…it’s not from this world.”

You had stumbled over your words, your voice trembling. The pokemon, except Gengar, blink in alarm, exchanging glances between each other before they begin to crowd around you.

You step back, shaking your head.

“I’m releasing all of you. It will keep going after me so if you stay, I’ll only get you killed. Go home. You’ll be safe,” you utter shakily, and Mimikyu and Gengar look at you with widened eyes. "I want to thank you all for your help. I've enjoyed our time together, even though it was short."

Poor Vulpix is the most confused, padding up to you and sitting at your feet, looking up at you with her glossy eye. She had just been adopted and now she will be abandoned again. She sits on her haunches as you shake your head sadly before she lets out a mournful howl. Lowering yourself to a crouch, you gently pick her up and embrace her tightly, before letting her back down.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper.

It’s Gengar and Mimikyu next, and you pick up the ragdoll and hug her firmly before moving onto Gengar.

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to find Gossamer Cave.”

“Then I’ll go with you.”

You shake your head.

“I can’t let you go on your own.”

“You can’t go with me.”

“But I promised to fight with you, to stay by your side,” he replies.

“I’m sorry, Gengar. I can’t take any risks. This is the only way I can keep you safe. You should go back and be with your trainer.”

"But you are my trainer now."

That makes you hesitate; Gengar's loyalty is touching and you let out another gentle sigh under your breath.

“What if you can’t find the cave?”

“I will.”

“Then we’ll wait for you here,” Gengar replies and you smile weakly at him. “We’ll wait for you.”

Without further ado, you turn your back on your pokemon, heading towards the opposite direction where the path that leads into the Dusty Bowl awaits. The pokemon begin to trail after you - you can hear their little footsteps - but you turn round and shake your head firmly, warning them. Vulpix and Mimikyu joins Gengar's side, watching you leave.

“Are we really free?” Mimikyu asks.

“Free or not, I’m waiting for her here,” Gengar says, folding his arms. “If you want to leave, you can go.”

“Suit yourself, mi.” Mimikyu replies.

…

Mimikyu heads for the tall grass. She’s a little stunned; Gengar and Vulpix are going to wait for you to return, but you had released them because it was no longer safe to be around you anymore.

Unsure what to really do or where to begin, now that she’s a free pokemon, Mimikyu wades through the undergrowth with little idea of where she’s going or where she should be heading to, or where her new or next home should be.

She accidentally bumps into a tough-looking Tyrogue who attempts to chase her away from its territory but she teaches him a lesson in sharing by letting loose a shadowy claw and slapping him away. The weakened Tyrogue has no choice but to let her wander around to her heart’s delight but even then, Mimikyu discovers she doesn’t like living in the tall grass. It’s too primitive.

She dawdles for a long time aimlessly until she comes across a clearing where a bunch of wild Mimikyu can be seen gathered together up ahead. Home! She’s home…

Immersing herself into the group, Mimikyu lifts a claw and attempts a friendly wave.

“Mi mi,” she says, but when they turn round, they only emit squeaking noises and she is greeted with haunting disguises that resemble Pikachu, her most hated enemy.

The disturbing black squiggles that are meant to resemble its eyes...they are so empty and hollow and sinister, it scares her.

Seeing her own kind dressed up as a Pikachu, desperate for attention and love, pretending to be something they’re not, lying to themselves in order to escape their never-ending cesspit of loneliness and melancholy, Mimikyu shakes her head furiously, coming to the realisation that she doesn’t belong here.

Instead of dressing up as Pikachu, they should be dancing around a burning effigy of the electric rodent!

Used to a warm bed and roof over her head, along with three meals a day and drink at virtually no cost, she realizes how difficult it would be to adjust to the wildlife and she does not remember how she used to live before she was taken in by humans.

Now she will need to look for food and drink on her own, as well as a place to sleep for the remainder of her days. She scampers away in fright at the newfound revelation, or crisis, and finds a pond where she sits at the damp, mossy edge, looking at her reflection.

She’s an ugly little ragdoll but a kind-hearted human took her in and she had a family. She had Gengar, Runerigus and Vulpix.

She begins crying, lost and confused and scared, until the shadow of a tree wobbles and a familiar pokemon steps out, carrying a one-eyed Vulpix under one arm.

“Gengar! Vulpix!” she exclaims, looking up as the shadow pokemon floats over to her. “You didn’t leave mi?”

Gengar shakes his head whilst Vulpix begins licking her face. "I knew something like this would happen to you,” he says. “You're not used to wild life anymore, are you?"

“No, mi want a nice home and warm food. I’m sorry for leaving. Let’s go, let’s find her.”

He nods, and together, they return to the main path where they attempt to follow their trainer’s lingering scent.

…

On your own, you have been unable to determine your bearings, where is north, south, east or west; you were certain you were at least on the right path by recalling some familiar landmarks of the region such as the huge, Musharna-shaped rock or Rhydon-shaped tree and you’ve ended up trekking onto uncharted territory, a path no-one had ever stepped foot on and now a sandstorm had whipped up from virtually out of nowhere.

The harsh wind billows from every corner; luckily, you’d packed a pair of goggles earlier to protect your eyes from the sand but the storm is too strong and you find yourself being blown away on one occasion too many. You persevere, pushing your body forwards and to the limit, lifting your arms up to shield yourself, planting one foot in front of the other slowly but steadily.

You hear a familiar buzz closeby before a small, red pokemon pops up and into the air and your eyes widen with shock.

"Rotom!" you exclaim as he bobs in front of you, "what are you doing here?"

"I fell azzleep in your bag, zzzipped myzzzelf up inzzzzide a pocket and juzzt woke up. What'd I mizzz, zzrt?"

You let out a heavy sigh. "Where do I even begin?"

Your phone glimpses around before he flies towards you and buries itself into your jacket for safety, peeking out behind your lapels.

"Where are we, zzrt? Actually, never mind! Let me find out, bzzrt!" his screen goes blank as he attempts to find your location but nothing happens; his screen is a fuzzy, jumbled mess of grey. "Lookzzz like I have no zzzignal. Oh dear, bzz."

"I'm not surprised."

"Can we go home, zzrt?"

"Not yet. Sorry, Rotom."

With Rotom as your remaining pokemon, you plough on. He moves to hide in your backpack, trembling with fear.

You’d been stuck in this sandstorm for what appears to be an eternity, with no end in sight and your feet are beginning to hurt.

Stopping, you glance around but you cannot see anything, only sandy smog that batters you from all directions. Looking behind your shoulders, your footsteps have disappeared too.

“Where are we, bzzrt?” Rotom asks.

“I don’t know. I’m sorry for dragging you into this, Rotom.”

“It’zzz okay, zzrt,” he replies. “we’re in thizzzz together.”

You’ve had your Rotom phone for a while now and he’s been so good to you. “We can do this, Rotom,” you reply.

He nods, and you continue your journey though you realise the storm has grown even stronger and the temperature has dropped and now you cannot even keep your balance as the wind blows you left and right, forwards and backwards. You cry out as you stumble around blindly and Rotom gets blown out of your backpack.

“EEP! Help!!!” he cries out as he’s whisked up and into the storm.

“Rotom!!” you yell, attempting to reach for him but he quickly vanishes from view, disappearing amidst the sand.

“Help!” he cries, though you can no longer see him.

“Rotom?? Where are you?” you yell, throwing your glance around wildly.

It’s silent.

“Rotom?! Hang in there, I’ll find you!”

Breaking into a sprint, you rush towards the direction you had last seen Rotom. To your dismay, you are greeted with nothing but the same dreary and blustering, never-ending sandy winds. Panting, you stop. Your mouth is dry, your mind hazy. You cannot even tell if you’re running in circles, if you’d been here before, if you’re heading back to where you came from.

Surrounded by nothing but billowing winds and sand, you realise how truly alone and lost you are.

“Rotom??” you yell into the vast nothingness.

There is no response, as expected.

“How does Ezra see where he’s going?” you mutter to yourself.

The sudden realization comes to you like a tonne of bricks dropping over your head.

He doesn’t.

Closing your eyes, you are freed from the rampant distraction of the sandstorm.

Taking a deep breath, you take one step forwards. Then another, and another. You let your feet wander on their own accord, taking one step at a time. You hold your breath to focus, concentrating as much as you can on pinpointing the correct path, the way forwards.

Allowing your senses to take over, your body begins to feel weightless and free as your feet carry you through the expanse. You guide yourself, clinging to a weak instinct that lingers in your gut which tells you that you’re heading the right way, and soon, your surroundings grow silent.

You stop walking.

The sandstorm has vanished and everything is still.

Opening your eyes, you blink, your eyes slowly adjusting to the light.

Your shoulders loosen up, the tension eroding away. You have escaped the sandstorm, and into a thick blanket of bluish grey mist filled with floating pieces of tiny pearly lights.

Observing them, you reach a hand out and press your fingertip against one of the lights which chimes and twinkles loudly, similar to the fairy lights of the Slumbering Weald.

Up ahead, a white orb of light bobs towards your direction. It grows brighter and brighter and as you squint your eyes for a better look, you make out the shape of a figure heading your way through the thick fog.

It’s a pokemon - the shiny Lucario you had seen all those years ago.

He stops before you, his red eyes meeting yours; he looks no different than the last time you had seen him, his golden fur grizzled and washed out, his expression stoic and calm. The light is emitting from the tip of his staff, which stops glowing and dies away slowly.

“You have found us," he says, with a brief nod of his head. "Well done. Follow me.”

“Wait, what happened to Rotom?”

“He’s fine,” Lucario replies, “You needn’t worry. Come along now. Don’t fall behind.”

Nodding, you trail after Lucario silently as he leads you through the surreal mist. On this occasion, the journey is a short and straightforward, linear path.

When he stops, you join his side, revealing a familiar sinkhole that’s bathed in swirling fog.

“Gossamer Cave! It’s real!" you exclaim as you peer down the ledge; everything is indeed as you had remembered.

“Yes.” Lucario lowers his staff and points the tip at the foggy cave entrance. “You must go inside on your own.”

You nod. “I am alone.”

He shakes his head and draws his staff near his shadow and lifts, reeling something out; it’s a chubby black blob which unfurls to reveal Gengar. You exclaim loudly with surprise, and the pokemon grins sheepishly at you.

Lucario frowns and shakes his head. “You must go in alone.”

“Can he wait for me outside?” you say, and Lucario growls lowly from his throat.

“Fine,” he grunts out, after a brief while.

You smile with gratitude and thank the pokemon profusely before throwing your glance to Gengar. He grins at you widely and you share an embrace. “Why are you here?”

“I was worried,” says Gengar, and you both quickly pull away to blink with shock, realizing his voice could be heard clearly out loud. It must be this strange place; it’s blurring two realities together.

However, you and Gengar merely grin and throw your arms around each other once more, his stubby arms wrapping around your back tightly.

“Thank you, Gengar,” you murmur, the corner of your eyes brimming with tears. “Thank you so much. Where are the others?”

“They’re waiting for you in the Dusty Bowl,” he says. “Don’t cry. You’re not alone. We’re here for you.”

You nod, and he releases you.

Unaffected by your reunion, Lucario steps in and says sternly, “It’s time. We will wait for you here. Good luck.”

“Thanks, Lucario.”

You pass them and begin to descend the rocky stairs without further ado, holding onto the vines for support. A serious flicker of déjà vu flashes in your mind for a split second and promptly disappears. Déjà vu or not, you have been here before and everything is exactly as it was many years ago. This place has remained untouched and unburdened by humans which prompts you to believe that you could have entered a different dimension, somehow.

Once you reach the bottom, the gloomy and dark entrance of the cave awaits you. The entrance seems bigger than last time; the slit is wider and stretches high above your head.

This is what Ezra was training you for, and now it’s time.

Taking a deep breath, you mentally assure yourself that everything is going to be fine and you are doing the right thing, though your pounding heart seems to tell you otherwise.

Ezra told you an ancient relic can be found here, and it will help you. You trust your mentor with your life.

Stepping towards the dark slit in the wall, you reach into your bag and pull out your torch, switching it on. It will be your only source of light as you navigate through the darkness that awaits you; you shine the light further within and it stretches all the way into the tunnel but to your surprise, there is no dead end in sight.

The tunnel seems to go on and on.

“It’s changed,” you murmur to yourself and as you step inside, a loud crumbling sound permeates the stillness and the entire cave trembles.

You turn round, witnessing the entrance close up behind you; vines entwine together, rocks and mud are pushed into each other by some unknown, unseen force. You're quickly sealed in, and you swallow down.

There's no way out... and you shine your torch around the gloomy walls, listening out for nothing but the casual drip of water from the stalactites splashing over the ground.

The interior of the cave has indeed changed since the previous venture. The left wall is covered entirely with cave paintings of stick figures and you presume this is supposed to be a depiction of early humans.

Stepping closer, you stop in front of the mural and reach over, running your fingertip over the dried paint and rub your fingers together; the paint falls off your skin in tiny flakes.

Following the rest of the pictures along the way, they progress from meaningless stick figures to a series of red handprints along with several names etched beside them, only there aren’t many names that match the number of handprints. You do not recognize the names until you come across Ezra’s name.

These must be the names of people who came here before you, and you glimpse up and around until you spot a rockpool near the wall brimming to the full with a thick, viscous red liquid which appears to be the origins of the paint.

You crouch by the pool and with your other hand, slowly press your palm into the ink, then find a random space on the wall and press your palm flat over the cold, uneven surface. Lifting your palm off, you see your name suddenly appearing on the wall from the stone and your eyes widen.

You decide to follow the rest of the paintings, moving along the wall. The paintings move from showing early humans carrying spears, to humans accompanied with prehistoric pokemon such as Aerodactyl, Kabutos and Omanytes.

The paintings unfortunately come to an end, and the last one shows an unsettling, bizarre-looking blob painted in black by an abundance of red dots that surround it in a spherical fashion.

You scrutinise this picture thoroughly, coming to the conclusion that whatever it’s meant to be, it's similar to the shadow creature that attacked you although this painting depicts it surrounded by humans who are bowing down, most likely in worship. Some of the painted figures are accompanied with small pokemon, too.

You move onto the next set of paintings that are far more colourful; a shining white creature has been painted, surrounded by an ochre ring: Arceus.

There are also early depictions of Palkia, Dialga and Giratina along with a drawing of a large red pokemon which you can only believe is Groudon, followed by an elegant blue pokemon, Kyogre.

It’s a timeline of ancient history, and a faint rumble captures your attention and you shine your torch towards the tunnel that lies ahead.

It had come from deep within.

You grow still, listening and staring into the darkness where the light doesn’t reach.

Holding your breath, you wait for a reply as the ground beneath you quakes and the grumbling from within grows louder and louder until a red light flickers briefly from deep within the tunnel.

Cocking your head to the side, you make a move forwards until your torch wavers, the light flickering on and off and growing dimmer and dimmer.

“Shit,” you curse under your breath, giving the device a few hefty slaps with the heel of your palm.

When you get it working back to proper order, the red light has vanished and your brows furrow in confusion.

There's something down there and there are no other areas of interest here so you must continue to move forwards; you carefully navigate your way into the tunnel which descends to a rather steep path that leads you deeper and deeper into the belly of the cave. Along the way, you are mindful of sharp rocks that stick out from the ground and sides and the more you venture, the colder it becomes.

Pulling your coat tightly to yourself, you plod through until the path expands, revealing a large clearing and as you arrive, your breath lodges in your throat.

The cave itself is larger inside than it looks compared to outside, with magnificent, huge walls that stretch all the way to unknown heights. You’re certain if you shine your torch up, the beam of the light would not be able to reach the ceiling.

A square, stone platform stands in the middle of the cave, with four pillars in each corner. Huge runes have been carved on the stone pillars, and you recognise some of them from Ezra’s teachings. Some are faded but from you can make out, they spell a simple message which translates to ‘He Who Hath Come Hath Thy Eyes’.

You wander towards the platform, standing in the middle. Below, a pentagram in a perfect circle has been etched along with a symbol in the very middle, one you don’t recognise.

The rumbling stirs the atmosphere once again, except it sounds closer now, much, much closer….coming from above…and the cavern walls tremble and you instinctively take a few steps backwards, glancing around cautiously.

You are no longer alone; a shadow swoops down from the ceiling and lands on the platform.

The impact sends you tumbling backwards and you drop over the ground, rolling awkwardly before you manage to regain your balance and with your torch, you quickly gather yourself back up and shine the light on the creature.

It’s a dark blob….and it doesn’t move, doesn’t react to your light shining on its form. It’s still, as though frozen in time but occasionally disrupted with a slight twitch accompanied with a low, buzzing, or humming noise and you slowly rise to stand, pushing yourself off the ground.

It appears to be assembling itself; though its body seems to be nothing but darkness, you can make out wave-like ripples and swirls on the surface that run throughout its body in casual waves…as though it’s unfurling and curling. It moves like a fabric in water though its texture appears anything but smooth.

There’s many thoughts racing through your mind: organic or inorganic? Sentient or not? Malicious or benevolent?

Surprisingly, you do not feel threatened by its presence and as it continues to transform, it begins to twitch violently until two rudimentary appendages bursts out from its back, twisting together and stretching up high into the air. They’re wings, and they divide into four, then six.

A single dot of red light accompanies it, shining brightly in the middle of the dark mass. It soon splits into two, then three, four….five…It continues to divide until there are a total of eight that begin to rotate clockwise in a hypnotic fashion.

They swivel and weave in enticing motions before they group together to form a horizontal line in front of you. Then they quickly assemble into a vertical line and finally, a small, shapeless cluster. These strange lights hover close to your right, peer at you up and down, then hastily retreat and move to your left and do the same. They appear to be curious about you, inspecting you keenly.

It's identical to what you saw in your bedroom.

Not lights, you think to yourself. Eyes.

The creature is huge, towering many feet over you. Unable to tear your gaze away, you throw your glance left, right and up as the eyes return to its main position in the centre and regard you intensely in return.

Not a human.

Not a pokemon.

“Deimos,” you breathe out.

The eyes glow softly in response, enticing you to come forwards.

Taking one minuscule step, you slowly raise a hand - your hand cannot stop shaking – and though your gesture is bold, to touch it, it stays still and your palm lands on a cold but smooth surface and what feels like a cool breeze surges through your entire body, sending tingles down your spine. You let out a loud gasp from the sensation and retreat your palm.

The crippling fear, the loneliness, the agony, the despair...

It has all but disappeared.

"I know why you're here," a quiet voice whispers in the dark.

It's deep but gentle...and it doesn’t sound male or female...or anything at all, if possible.

“You’re the one who Ezra spoke to when he was a child. You taught him,” you murmur. “And you helped him all those years ago, too. It was you.”

"You want to learn how to stop Phobos.”

"Phobos?"

The eyes join together and arrange themselves, moving towards the ceiling; they shift from blood red to a golden glow at once, the eyes growing glossy. You believe it's looking at something.

“Phobos is one of my kin. He revels in chaos, enjoys feeding more than I do, and he enjoys wreaking havoc unto humans and pokemon.”

You're confused. What exactly are Deimos and Phobos? “Why me? Why Rosie...my mum and dad???”

“You and your sister possess aura, and a large amount of it. Your sister was devoured for that reason, and you’re next. Your mother and father were unfortunately fodder along the way. You are correct; Phobos must be stopped, in order to preserve the balance of the universe."

Its glossy red eyes shows your reflection and the expression on your face...you have never seen yourself look so awestruck yet petrified at the same time, and it's as though it's looking at you too, staring right into your soul.

"You...you'll help me?" you stutter out, swallowing down thickly.

"Yes."

You hold your breath.

"You're in pain. And you have been, for a very long time. I can take it all away. I can make it stop.”

Nodding weakly, your mouth quivers as a shaky breath leaves your throat.

"I just want this nightmare to end," you whisper. "What do I need to do?"

"Let's form a pact," it says. "You and I."

...

You emerge from the cave.

Gengar and Lucario head over; the Pokemon are pleased to see you and as you meet them, you and Gengar share an embrace once more.

“What happened? You were inside for a long time. Did you find it?” Gengar asks as you pull away with a nod.

“I found it,” you reply, smiling, “I know what to do. Everything's going to be okay now. Let's go back.”

Gengar nods; he does not fail to notice the distinct shade of your eyes, which is a curious shade of red.

…

EXTRA NOTES: (these are from AO3, I added them incase anyone is confused -

Deimos was actually meant to converse a bit more with Reader, but the more it did, the more it lost the mystery that surrounds it.

Honestly I wasn't sure myself if this was the right direction to go but I didn't think it would be convincing if Deimos turned out to be a pokemon - Darkrai for example, or even a pokemon I made up because I think that would be hard to imagine - so I've kept Deimos as this cosmic entity/eldritch horror that resides in a cave which is only accessible by those who possess an extremely high level of aura.

It's kind of similar to Mirage Island, I guess?? but it will also not appear unless the individual possesses a high level of aura too. Reader is a late bloomer, which is why it took her so long to reach this stage. Deimos and Phobos are kin, but Phobos is evil and Deimos can be considered good. If you have further questions please feel free to ask.

[writinginthedarkwood]

My OC has a specific teleportation quirk. She can transport items but not people as long as she has seen a picture of it. It will be taken from someone so it doesn’t clone it. She’s a villain in the sense that she steals but she doesn’t have any heavy handed plans to change the world. She just wants more. She’s amoral but not heartless. She tends to pull things for people she feels needs it more.Like a Fem Robin Hood.I’d love to see how she interacts with shigaraki. She runs away. He loves her.

I read this and had a little scenario pop in my head :) I hope you like it!

You cracked a sweet smile to the clerk. "Yes sir, just the card pack please." He wrang up your purchase and you handed over some pocket change. "I always think girls that like Pokemon are so cute." The clerk sleazed. "But you won't get anything good with just one pack, you should buy the collectors edition over there." He pointed to a shiny metal tin. The box was pretty, and I'm sure it has good cards in it.

But it isn't the prize you're after today. "Oh no, I'll have to pass on that. It's a little pricey." You leaned over the counter a bit, looking up at the pale man with your big eyes. "I am a bit curious about something else you have in stock..."

The clerk gulped. "Y-yeah?"

You stood back up and pointed above his head. "That Legend of Zelda 3ds. The gold one? Would you care if I took a picture of it? I'm SUCH a fan and... I'd love to come back and buy it."

"Well usually I don't take merch out of the case unless you want to buy but..." He looked at your low cut shirt and swallowed hard again. "I'm sure you can take just a quick picture if you promise to come back." He said trying to flirt with you. You smiled while your stomach rolled.

After taking a quick picture you stepped outside onto the busy street, distancing yourself down a few stores before looking down at your cell phone and concentrating for a second.

You took a deep breath, and the 3ds appeared in your pocket along with the pack of cards.

You walked awhile longer, watching busy people rush through their day. You put your head phones in and strolled down the candy aisle of the drug store, taking your time as your hoodie got fuller without having to take your hands out of your pockets.

Soon you had a colorful paper bag filled with candy, pokemon cards, that 3ds and a few games. All packed in with red tissue paper.

It took you a little longer to walk to this side of town, the air even seemed to get a bit stiffer as the buildings gathered more graffiti on them the further you walked.

"Here we are, apartment uhhh..." You looked at your hand. "3E" You took a quick peak in the window, it was cracked just a bit. A lady bug was trying to crawl through a hole in the screen. "How are you enjoying your birthday cake?" A tired looking woman sat at the table with a little boy. "I want you to have some mommy!" He lifted up his skinny wrist and held out a bit for his mother. He was eating one cupcake, with a single candle on it. "No baby I need you to eat all of it. You need as much sweetness as you can get." He took a bite and smiled. He was wearing a shirt with a familiar triforce on it, similar to the one on the 3ds. His little head was completely bald, his hair having fallen out a few months ago.

You knocked on the door and quickly ducked in the alleyway, listening from just around the corner. The mother opened the door and giggled. "Look sweetie, a present!" After she shut the door you looked back through the window.

The little boy tore through the tissue paper and the mom gasped. "Mommy you fibbed! You said you couldn't get me my own game!" He shrieked with laughter and you watched the mother try to gather herself, but she burst into tears.

You smiled just a bit to yourself and turned to leave, immediately bumping into someone tall.

"Well hey there Robin Hood. Hasn't anyone told you that stealing is wrong?" A tired sounding voice carried into your ears from behind a black hood.

"I haven't stolen anything. Get off of me." You shoved him with your shoulder and continued down the alley without much of a thought. The stranger followed.

"So what would you call your little adventure today?" You stopped in your tracks and confronted the man.

"I call it giving a sick kid a birthday present. If you think you can turn me into the cops for some reward money, you're an idiot." You chuckled a bit. "People have tried. I've been caught on camera doing nothing wrong for years." You spun on your heel, a bit of your perfume hitting the man and making his head spin. Something about you was so intriguing to him, didn't you see that with the right person, your talents could really soar?

"I have no interest in turning you in. I'm just a bit curious is all."

He caught your attention. See working in the shadows was great for not getting caught, but it wasn't often you got to really talk about your hobbies with anyone. "If you don't mind me asking, how do you know that kid?"

"I've never met him." You crossed your arms over your chest and glared down the mysterious man. "I walk the pediatric ward at the hospital a lot."

The man took another step towards you, you stood your ground. "So you think you're some kind of hero?" He asked quietly.

This time you really did laugh. "Don't patronize me. I'm no hero, I just crave a little more out of life. Something to keep me going."

"It's funny you say that..." The man reached out and pushed a strand of hair behind your ear. You took a step away shooting him a look that could kill. "What do you want?" You hissed. He took the hint and gave you some space.

"I want to offer you an opportunity. Joining a group of people who feel the same way you do. A place where your talents won't go unappreciated."

"Like a gang? I'm not interested."

You scoffed and turned away from him, walking further down the alley.

"What if I said I could pay the rest of that debt of yours off?" You stopped walking but didn't turn to face him. If he knew about the debt, then he must know who wants it paid back with interest. "You certainly are good at making the right people mad, but there are bigger people out there than those bullies. An entire organization of people who want more from this miserable existence than watching heros on TV and stuffing their fat faces."

You sprinted away from him, running into the dark.

Shigaraki couldn't wipe the grin off of his face. Even with your quick exit, he knew he had you hooked. You'd run into each other again, playing your little cat and mouse chase.

But darling, you didn't even know it.

He'd already won the game.

[anxious-amethyst]

I don’t see people go into the nitty gritty bits of mental health..

And I mean those details that I find not many people speak of. As if its taboo to mention we are human. I have a filter made of cling wrap with giant holes in it. And the cling wrap bunches up in places too, distorting the words to others’ perspectives; making me come off as a bitch. (I truly am a very kind person, I am just bad with social skills at times.) My point being, that I have no problem speaking my truth to all of you invisible faces that may or may not see this. I’m sure down the road, if I ever finish and publish my novel and become J.K. Rowling famous (a dream of mine) that this can easily be dug up. I will smile with a small laugh in that interview with Stephen Colbert and be frank. 

The tags come at the end of a post and not everyone filters everything that makes them (is it squick? what was that word that is a better replacement for trigger..) So as a heads up, if you absolutely can’t stand the thought of body, hmm, uh functions I suppose. (Not sure what category my topic falls in to) then I have given you an escape rope. (Now I want to play Pokemon again.)

As I am being completely honest and transparent, I literally can’t seem to figure out when A. my nervous breakdown began (still in it) and B. when I last showered, heck even brushed my teeth. Now I know several things, thankfully. One being that I have not left the house this whole week from April 14th to today, April 20th. Easter is tomorrow and I am forcing myself (to the best of my abilities) to attend Church and the whole family get together. My plan being, Church is for God and you owe it to him and yourself to go and be lifted up. Family gathering is going to be hell, no point sugar coating it. So bring a book and think of the Strawberry/Pretzel Casserole that Aunt Faith hopefully made and the sweet pickles that Pop-Pop usually brings. Remember to be kind to yourself and fake a smile, these are the people you do NOT want to be honest with. Lie through your ass like your life depends on it because in a way, it does. You are not obligated to say anything more than hello, give hugs however because you need and love them. Do speak for a bit so as not to be rude. But the book is your safety net. Deploy it ASAP. And somehow get your loving cousin to attach to your sister instead.

A nitty gritty part that is not gross, is the withdrawal... from everyone. Like I’m straight up not talking to anyone unless I have to, and society is out of my mind. I do however, happily speak with my irl friend when she messages. I know she is busy though and has her own problems so I try to censor my frankness quite a bit because she doesn’t deserve that kind of worry. Unfortunately, my parents and sister are not able to be kept out of the whole truth for their protection. They see it. I don’t even have to say a thing. I have been threatened with a, how to put this nicely, place full of even crazier people imo and where they drug you to the high heavens. Yeah. I’m not flying over the cuckoo’s nest. (Deep terror of those places, this will not be helpful to me.) But that gives you an idea of how bad this breakdown is. The other thing I know, is that it started on Sunday. I’m inclined to believe that it was the April 14th Sunday, but am unsure as it still feels like Monday. So maybe this breakdown is heading into a week, maybe not. One thing is, those websites were right. The longer a breakdown continues, the worse it gets. Each day is less and less food, water, and movement. And that’s just basic necessities. I’m trying to hold out for my therapist appointment coming up next week. She has so many people though, that each appointment is a week or two, sometimes more, away. Not exactly the best mental treatment for my situation, I admit. But I am stubborn, perhaps that stubborness can save me while I also shoot myself in the foot. Its possible.

Now for the gross nitty gritty. Apologies for the many tangents, turns out when you don’t talk to anyone for a week, you end up with a lot to say. Good news! I finally showered AND shaved my armpits which hadn’t been shaved in months. So they can breathe I guess, and my skin can breathe too LOL. But with depression can come fatigue. I have that. So a normal depressed person can be way too exhausted to even think of a shower. For others, it may be some other form of hygiene. All forms of hygiene have died with my depression. On top of that, the bitch depression bought a horrible, mangy dog with her called Executive Dysfunction. This mutt dogs your every step. (Thank God, depression didn’t steal my love for jokes, puns, and metaphors.) Some people have depression that goes an extra step and brings about the literal destruction of that executive function system in their brain. (I just mean that the signals are all fucked up.) And then, some people with both of these also have Anxiety! So they end up with all of these contradicting thoughts and emotions that in the end, makes tasks, like showering, unaccomplishable. Now there are many other conditions that bring about these issues, I am aware, but I am speaking of my own and know for a fact that I can’t be the only one with these kinds of experiences. So this gross factor goes out to all of those who have experienced the same level of cringe or worse, and aren’t up to the potential ridicule that comes with expressing your truth. (To be clear, I’m not dedicating a gross thing to you out of spite, I just mean I’m making a problem you have encountered, heard as well.) 

By the end of the shower, I could barely make it. I was slowing down realllll fast. The NeebsGaming video I was listening to on YouTube is what got me through the shower. Gosh those guys are great. I shaved my armpits before washing my body because I figured stray hair or shaving cream might be in the crevice of one’s arm that I legit can’t see, even with glasses. Between the amount of hair that came out of my head during scrubbing shampoo like a madman, any stray dog hairs that my head picked up from my pillow which my dog sleeps on when he waits for me to snuggle, and the long armpit hair; the drain was kinda blocked. Our shower has that metal thing with holes in it, so its not as terrifying of a drain. But excessive hair or large lumps of solid soap (from a soap bar) can block off a hole. Or in my case, all. So water is not draining, which naturally means the tub is filling. My body is slowing down and I’m trying to push through it while not thinking of the disgusting water approaching my feet. If you’ve ever washed your hands after not washing them for ages and touching many things out in the world, the water, and sometimes soap, turns varying shades of gray. Depends on the dirt particles and amount of dirtiness.Well I has transparent, because its water, charcoal shaded water approaching me. As if my own filth refused to leave my body and was threatening to drag me down the drain with it. 

When I finally finished and got out of the shower, I almost decided to just leave it. Thinking that maybe it will eventually drain on its own. I’m glad I didn’t. I began reaching my hand down to the drain and told myself not to think too much about how pubic hair makes me cringe and how pulling hair from a drain in general, makes me gag. Its a disturbing act if you ask me. Now I’m struggling to get armpit hair off of my hand and there’s somehow still loads more! So I dry my other hand on my towel and rip off a piece of toilet paper. The water is still not draining and I disturbed the many hairs when I went for the first grab. So now I am fishing in charcoal water for clumps of armpit hair. Then wiping it onto the paper. The water finally drains..... oh no.... I kid you not, a whole fucking trail of dirt was left on both sides of the tub on the water’s way to the drain. I take the showerhead and turn it on. Now I’m washing hair and dirt and some other substance I couldn’t see at the time (nearsighted plus the tub is white) down the drain. Except the hair covers the drain again. Typical. At least the dirt and the tub was rinsed. Since there’s no more water, I take a sheet of toilet paper again, and save myself from having to deal with pubic hair that sticks to any surface. (Seriously, what is the deal with pubic hair.) But there’s something else in it. And a lot of this something else. Like a whole body’s worth. The pubic hair is laced with large clumps of tannish, white (my skin color) skin cells. Now I have rubbed my arm before and made a trail of dead skin rolled up into fine lines appear. In the shower I wiped my face with my hand and pulled away that same rolled up skin. But I have never, experienced this amount of filth from myself before. I am still rubbing off some skin, so I probably should have washed my body a second time.

When you become so “broken” that you can’t seem to take care of yourself in a normal time and a healthy manner, you get to learn new things about the human body and experience some events that you probably could have gone your whole life without knowing. And that is something that I feel should be shared more often. That when the person who experienced this, opens up to those they trust, or to a complete stranger, that an appropriate reaction and response be given.

Julie: And then I saw large clumps of my own skin!

Tyrone: Oh damn girl, that is nasty. 

Julie: I know right! But the saddest part is, it probably won’t be the last time. I don’t think its enough to get me to shower regularly. 

Tyrone: Julie, while that isn’t “fine”, it is fine. It is understandable. You are experiencing and suffering from a very real problem. While I can’t confidently say it is or isn’t in your control because I’m no psychologist or whatever, I can confidently say that it won’t always be like this. I doubt that your whole life will be this mess that you are in. Now you may not be back to peak function a year from now, but you will definitely be more knowledgeable of yourself and probably better than you are today. It takes time and so long as God doesn’t need you in Heaven, I’d say you have time. *chuckles* I don’t know all that you are going through, I just met you. And I don’t know how to help you in a way that you may need. But I can certainly offer an ear or two, and a hug if you want one. You just keep on trucking on. You aren’t doing much, and you aren’t doing well. But you are here, and that’s an achievement in of itself.

Julie: Wow, thanks Tyrone. This really helped. One weight on my chest has been lifted, and I will take you up on that hug if you don’t mind.

That’s what it should be like. So if you are reading this and are like Tyrone, not suffering from mental health issues, but you know someone who is, or a stranger comes up to you in need of someone to listen to them; be like him. Offer encouragement and understanding, give advice if asked for it, don’t force physical contact without consent because some people are paranoid (like me) and choose your words and expressions carefully. If someone tells you something gross, react like you are grossed out (which you likely are) but don’t put them down for it. I imagine Tyrone to have that expression of “holy cow, you serious that this happened” when he said it was nasty. That easy going expression can clue Julie in on how he isn’t getting on her, or implying anything sexist by how she is a woman and shouldn’t be this filthy. He’s jovially charismatic, and open. That makes Julie comfortable and feel lighter. Now I included religion in Tyrone’s comment to tack on some humor without making jokes at Julie’s expense, and to show how to appropriately use your spirituality, if you have one. He’s not forcing it down her throat, she may not get the satire of the joke, but he tried. Not to mention, that Heaven, in Christianity, is a place where you are whole and happy. When you go to Heaven, you are with God and your loved ones. You live an eternal life of peace. So for him to imply that she is worth God’s eyes and Heaven, means that he respects her and is lifting her up. Bonus, he is reassuring her that while time is not infinite and we don’t know what the future holds for us, as of today, she still has plenty of time to get back on the track that she desires to be on. Instilling hope and faith. If you were on Julie’s side of life, wouldn’t you want a kind and funny Tyrone to listen and talk to?

[twilightsunclan-fr]

pkmn au get together final part

Ivory unlocks RELATIONSHIP co-op achievement with Ophrys

Honestly, Ivory had heard and followed worse ideas from Iubar. To be frank, he doubted Ophrys had ever been on a real date in his life. Ivory knew if he came on too strong, Ophrys would likely kick him out. He’d need to be subtle about this, which, well, it would require a different approach from what he was used to.

He’d noticed that Rhys responded best to routine. Or at least to patterns. Ivory attributed to the blindness. Ophrys had long since memorized how many steps it took for him to get to from point A to point B and the furniture set up in all the rooms of his house. And while he didn’t live a strictly regimented existence, he did tend toward doing things on an internal clock.

With this in mind, Ivory aimed to establish a routine. A dating routine. With the hope that by the time Rhys figured out what he was doing, he wouldn’t mind being in a relationship with Ivory. That was the plan anyway.

Mentally he’d taken to calling it Operation: Date the Boy. He looked at his options and drew up a schedule. In so much as one could call it a schedule. He’d continue showing up on the weekends as he had been doing and during the days he’d help out around the farm, or showing off his pokemon as per usual. The nights were when his plan would go into action.

Friday nights, his first night at the farm, were now Dinner Nights. Ivory would cook dinner for the two of them and steadfastly refuse any sexual advances until the meal was done. He might not have been the world’s best cook, but he could certainly hold his own with simple recipes. You didn’t survive on your own as a trainer for very long without picking up some kind of cooking skill.

Ivory brought his own ingredients to prepare. It was a taste of what he was aiming for, once Rhys got used to him using the kitchen to cook and not as an avenue for a sexual encounter. It was incredibly peaceful, standing in the kitchen, boiling water, chopping vegetables and the like while Rhys sat at the table, listening to news reports, music or radio shows, sometimes reading in braille while Ivory went about his business. But in the same room as Ivory.

Ivory had learned pretty quickly that while Ophrys was mute and had isolated himself as much as possible away from the hustle and bustle of civilization as he could. He also didn’t like complete silence. In his home there was always a radio or TV on.

Occasionally, Ophrys would even offer to help. At first Ivory hadn’t been so sure. Completely blind and cutting slicing and chopping with a sharp instrument seemed like a bad mix. Ivory mentally shook his head. Ophrys had been blind for the majority of his life. He’d lived almost completely alone for long before Ivory had shown up. And furthermore, this kitchen and everything in it was Rhys’. He could handle cutting things up and dumping them in a pan or pot.

The gloom, whose color had returned to a deep indigo and Bean, Ophrys’ service Chikorita, had both started hanging out in the kitchen now. Bean usually curled up in Ophrys’ lap or at his feet, and the gloom leaning against Ivory’s legs or following him around as he checked the oven or opened the refrigerator.

Friday night dinners only made Ivory even more sure of his decision to date Ophrys. The warm glow of the kitchen lights against the darkness in the windows, the sound of small paws pattering on the tile, the soft voice of the radio announcer. During the meal, Ophrys would even rap knuckles on the table to get Ivory’s attention for a comment or two. At the end, Ivory would wrap up what was left while Ophrys carefully did the dishes. It was all exactly what Ivory wanted to come home to every night of the rest of his life.

Saturday nights were movie nights. Usually held on the couch, sometimes Ophrys’ bed. Ivory hadn’t been sure at first how to navigate this, but apparently a lot of movies and shows came with audio narration, which just put another tick mark in his favor for dating. Ophrys liked stories, reading and hearing them. Book, movie or show. He preferred when there was a lot of talking involved of course. Which was fine, Ivory could work with that.

On the extreme plus side, Ophrys liked cuddling. Ivory knew he liked physical contact before during and after sex. (It was great being able to stretch himself across Rhys’ sweat slicked skin and feel those deep breaths causing his chest and belly to rise and fall.) During the day though he’d always stuck to himself, holding Ivory had arm’s length. Which Ivory didn’t want to be held there anymore, so he’d slowly worked his way across the couch, little by little every weekend, until Ophrys was leaving space for him tucked up right next to his side, or sprawling out on the couch and Ivory draping himself over the bigger man. Ivory counted this as another milestone of success.

In the spirit of movie dates, Ivory was more then happy to go in for long slow sessions of making out. Letting Ophrys tug him close, feeling his slightly chapped lips press gently against his own and the rough texture of his beard. Biting lightly at Rhys’ mouth until he opened his lips and Ivory could slip his tongue in. Swallowing down the silent gasp from Rhys. He moved slow and gentle. Pushing down Rhys’ hands every time they tried to sneak up his shirt until he got the idea. At least until the movie was over, and then Ivory was down for fucking Rhys into the couch or bed.

Ivory had carefully established the Fridays and Saturdays as part of a comfortable routine for them every weekend. Just as he’d hoped and planned, Ophrys was coming around.

In the beginning, Ophrys had treated him as a semi wanted stranger. He didn’t kiss him hello, he didn’t kiss him goodbye, the only time they kissed was the deep, desperate hunger they both felt before sex. Touch was the same. There wasn’t any reason for Ophrys to touch him unless they were about to fuck, so he didn’t. And he certainly didn’t talk about himself, in fact Ophrys avoided talking about himself as much as possible.

To an extreme that one night, between rounds four and five, as they lay next to each other panting and sweaty. Ivory had opened his mouth:

“So out of curiosity,” His voice was more then a little hoarse. “If you’re mute, how do you make sounds like those?” Instead of answering, Ophrys had rolled over until he was straddling Ivory’s waist. His muscular naked body on display in the soft glow of the bedside lamp. “Asking for a friend.” Ivory managed to find his voice in his suddenly dry mouth enough to say. Rhys lifted his hips and reached back behind him with one hand. “Oh no fair.” Ivory growled as Ophrys pumped him back to full alert. And with another shift was sinking. All. The way. Down.

Ivory didn’t want to continue the questioning when Ophrys was moving his hips like that and making those breathy little pants. Because he might stop doing both and Ivory was sure his dick would explode if that happened.

To Ophrys, Ivory was a convenient means to fulfill a need and not much more. Until Ivory made himself more.

It started out small, after Operation: Date the Boy had been going on for a couple months. Ophrys pressed a quick easy kiss to Ivory’s lips when he arrived Friday afternoon. And helped him carry his bag to the kitchen. Ivory didn’t say anything, choosing not to draw attention to it. But he got a chaste kiss goodbye on Sunday afternoon. And again the next weekend. A kiss hello, a kiss goodbye, until it was part of the routine.

Another step was hugging, non sexual touches from Ophrys. Squeezing Ivory’s bicep in passing, patting his back, brushing strands of hair off his forehead or tucking them behind his ear. Ophrys’ arm around his waist as they walked back to the farmhouse. Done easily, without thinking, until they became second nature. A game of footsie at the kitchen table ending not in scream worthy sex under the table, but just playfully kicking each other’s shins and laughing about it. Ophrys wrapping his arms and body around Ivory during the colder mornings.

Little things like that told Ivory his plan was working.

And then there was the big thing, the make or break moment.

It was during a Friday dinner date. Over pasta, that Ophrys typed something out on his phone and put it down for Ivory to read.

(Cognitive Impairment.) Ivory put down his fork slowly.

“Brain damage? Is that why you can’t talk?” He hated how he sounded so stupid.

(In a way. I was in a really bad) Ophrys stopped typing, his right hand clenched into a fist and slowly fanned back out finger by finger. (Car accident.) Ivory licked his bottom lip slowly.

“You don’t have to tell me,” He said softly. “If you don’t want to.” In response Ophrys started typing in a flurry.

(Car accident when I was ten.) He typed, blind eyes trained on the phone even though he didn’t need to look at it. (Lost my parents. Lost my sight. Lost) He stopped again, breathing hard, his big hands shaking with small tremors.

“It’s okay, it’s going to be okay.” Ivory soothed. “Tell me all that you want, tell me all that you can. I’m not going anywhere.” Ophrys swallowed and nodded.

(Parents dead on impact. Blow to my head. Glass to my eyes.) He typed slower, breathing in measured breaths. (No more sight. And every time I try to talk, all the words are gone.) He dropped his phone on the table, looking so utterly miserable that Ivory was out of his seat, standing next to him before he knew it.

Ophrys liked to be touched. It was a sign of comfort to him, telling him where the people in his world were located. Ivory pulled him carefully up and walked him to the couch, talking to him quietly, saying everything and nothing. Running his hands through Ophrys’ hair, down his back, kissing his face, his forehead, his hair. Until long after Ophrys had stopped shaking and fallen asleep.

It was the first night that Ivory stayed over and they didn’t have sex.

(He did wake up to a surprise blow job though.)

That night was the turning point. Kisses hello and goodbye more then just at the start and end of the weekend were the norm. Ophrys looked as miserable as Ivory felt when he had to leave and as elated when he came back. They talked more, shared more of their lives, their pasts and themselves. There were more hugs, more touching. Showers together didn’t always involve Ivory pressing Ophrys up against the tile or either on their knees.

It got to the point that sex was no longer the focal point of their relationship but regulated to the back burner.

It got to the point that one Friday afternoon when Ivory sauntered up to the farmhouse, Ophrys was sitting, waiting for him on the steps.

“Hey beautiful, what’s-” Ophrys shoved his phone at Ivory, there was already a message typed in the box.

(Are we dating?) Ivory looked from the phone to Ophrys. He wasn’t getting any help, Ophrys’ face was inscrutable, his dead eyes staring at a point over Ivory’s shoulder.

“Doooooo you want us to be?” Ivory hesitantly asked.

(YES) Was the immediate response. Ivory felt the same giddy elation as when Ophrys had agreed to their arrangement all those months ago.

“Fuck. Yesssss.” He hissed, but before he could celebrate for too long, the phone was shoved back in his face.

(Why me? I have issues, I have a whole plane full of emotional baggage. I’m blind, I’m mute. I have PTSD.) Ivory raised an eyebrow as he read the message. And breathed out a sigh.

“Rhys, I already know all that. First hand, in my face, know all that. Anyway, I’m no prize myself. I’m basically homeless, I can only really earn money for six months out of the year and I beat up children’s pokemon for their lunch money.” Ophrys cocked his head to the side. “No one’s perfect. But Rhys, you’re smart, you make me laugh, I make you laugh. You know what you want to do with your life, you’re caring and passionate. And I don’t know where you’ve been my entire life, okay scratch that, you’ve definitely been out here, but I will do anything to keep you in it.”

The phone dropped to the grass as big strong hands grabbed Ivory by his jacket collar and yanked him into the deepest passionate kiss they’d ever had. Ivory braced himself against the porch on either side of Ophrys. Just enjoying the attention and the feeling of warmth spreading out in his chest. When the hands on his jacket let go and slipped down to fiddle with his belt, Ivory pulled back.

“Fuck, Rhys.” Ophrys raised his eyebrows, saying ‘I thought that was the point’ in pure body language. “Not out here.” Ivory hissed, quickly glancing around. “I don’t want your aggron to gore me in the ass.” Ophrys’ shoulder shook in silent laughter.

They made it as far as closing the door to the entry hallway.

[the-awoken-crusader-blog]

The Shroud is Lifted

[PoV: Third Person - Shiki]

Location: Unknown Field, Near Civilization]

Step after silent step the Toxisharp slowly makes their way down the road, their eyes fixated on the orange horizon before them.

Their decision of entering civilization in the end was a rather ‘interesting’ experience, some individuals recognized them...while many more did not. In the end however there were no current consequences, since the few that did recognize them didn’t go to retrieve whatever law enforcement that drab town had.

Their eyes glance down to a small bag hanging at their side, filled with a great deal of various essentials such as food and water.

Heh, another boon for making such a decision. As ugly and noisy as the market was, it held many fruits and vegetables that would make things easier for the killer when traveling. Money wasn’t an issue for Shiki since they would ‘collect’ it from their victims, it just hadn’t been put into much use until recently. Thankfully this means that they won’t be scavenging for a while, since they would much rather not damage their suit again.

Still, that is the last time they will walk among eyes for a long while... It is a great risk to reveal one’s presence, especially when many of said eyes desire to hunt them down.

So they must walk back into the shroud of darkness, to hide where the eyes can’t see. But Shiki doesn’t mind, for they are used to it...

...And it’s also very...poetical...

...

Heh...

Their thoughts go back to the many individuals they’ve met, the interesting questions they’ve asked and many accusations they’ve confronted with. However most of these go down to one thing, ‘what is perfection to them and how will they find it?’

These are typical questions to Shiki that have answered a few times in the past for the curious and foolish individuals who dared approach them. However...a peculiar Gardevoir with a metal form worded their question in a different way, ‘what is your definition of perfect’. It’s still the same question, and yet...it also made Shiki think more.

Perfection, the one thing they seek. They do not know what it looks like, they do not know where to find it, and yet...they still search for it.

Shiki’s kills continue to grow and yet still yield no results of what they seek for, which makes them wonder...

Will they truly know what perfection is? Will they recognize it for what it is? Or will they treat it like all the others, to look at it with scorn and continue on with their search?

...

The Toxisharp stops, their eyes fixated on the horizon.

When Shiki answered those curious individuals, Shiki was so sure...so confident... That they will recognize for what it is, to be stood in awe of its beauty.

But...what if they were so focused on something they do not know...that they would actually end up overlooking it?

Would that mean...their quest will never succeed?

...

“Why ya standin’ there like that?” A drawl-like voice asks, snapping the Toxisharp out of their trance.

Their eyes narrow with anger as they recognize that stupid and barbaric voice anywhere, they quickly look over to see the same Blaziken from earlier. On their incoherent face is a look of curiosity.

Shiki wanted to lash out at the fool, to abandon their principles and wipe them off the world. But...

Their thoughts drift back to the subject in their mind, of whether if their quest is something that can’t be accomplished.

In the end...they didn’t lash out... Instead, they asked a question.

“What is perfection? How will you recognize it, to know what it is?”

The Blazken blinks in confusion since the stranger responded to their question with one of their own.

Shiki stood in silence as they watched the Blaziken simply stand their, the hybrid’s irritation growing with each passing second.

The fool...he can’t even respond to a question. He just stand there and scratch his chin in confusion, unable to formulate a simple thought.

But much to Shiki’s pleasant surprise, they respond soon after.

“Well...” He says slowly. “Perfection...is kinda somethin’ that no folks agree on. Perfection could mean somethin’ ta’ one, but not ta’ another. It’s weird like that.”

Shiki’s eyes narrow at the typical response, since it didn’t really answer his question

“But,” The Blaziken continues, surprising the Toxisharp again. “Perfection is somethin’ that stands out ta’ someone, ta’ make ‘em remember it for a long time.” He smiles slightly. “Like if ya have a perfect day, ya will remember it better than others." He pauses for a second. “But it could also makes ya happy, like a perfect harvest will make ya happy ‘cus you will get more food out of it.” The Blaziken shrugs. “It kinda depends in the end, since it’s not the same for everyone. It’s a weird word, since it’s somethin’ that doesn’t really exist. Just somethin’ folks consider better than others.”

...

That response again, ‘perfection doesn’t exist.’ Normally Shiki would throw the whole thing out the window and say that it’s blasphemy, but now...they’re not so sure.

From the way the Blaziken said it, it’s highly unlikely that someone else told him this. This is something that he thought of alone, his own thoughts on the subject.

And if this blundering oaf thinks this, then...perhaps it could be right?

...

No...

...

No...

...

Shiki could feel themself slipping, the world closing in around them. The thought of all of their work, all of their killings...were for nothing.

“There...is no such thing?” They whisper quietly, their voice growing fainter with each word. “Then...all my work is...nothing? My search was in...vain?”

So passionate they were, the mere thought of finding perfection...it fueled their spirit and gave their life purpose. But...if perfection doesn’t exist, then they were chasing but an empty promise.

Shiki didn’t know what emotion they were feeling now, but...it is overpowering. It’s not anger, for it did not burn. No, it was a vacuum...a pit that’s swallowing him whole.

Anguish, that’s what Shiki is feeling... The sorrow of realization, the state of a being who’s world is shattered.

The Blaziken looks at the hybrid with pity, even though they don’t know why the Toxisharp looks so beaten down...their words at least described a little bit of why they feel like this.

He may be a bit of a slow thinker, sometimes even forget things that were immediately said. But he’s good at reading people, and he can read what Shiki is thinking very well.

The Blaziken slowly walks over and places a claw on his shoulder, smiling softly. “Well, I wouldn’t say ya search wasn’t bad.” He says. “Perfection for all folks don’t exist really, since everyone thinks different.” The Pokemon taps their head with a claw. “But...in our head it’s real, kinda... Ya can’t find perfection for all folks, but ya can find it for ya’self.”

Normally Shiki would’ve hissed at the touch of the Pokemon, but instead they look at him with a confused yet hopeful gaze. “Find it for yourself? What do you mean by those words? Please, you must explain.”

Seeing that the Toxisharp isn’t feeling sad anymore, the Blaziken’s smile grows. “Yeah, the thing is...only ya can find somethin’ that’s perfect ta’ ya. If ya think it’s tha’ most prettiest, coolest, or...” He pauses for a moment as he tries to find the right word, which Shiki waits with rapt attention. Eventually the Blaziken snaps his fingers, his grin widening. “Flawless, if it’s better than everythin’ ya have ever seen...then I’d call it perfect. So ya search for this perfect thing ain’t over, ya just need ta’ find what’s perfect ta’ ya and ya alone.”

Shiki stands silently, absorbing this newfound information.

Something...that is perfect to me and me alone...?

Perfection in the world does not exist, but it does our minds...?

They’ve been doing it all wrong, their quest misguided and misinformed...

They wanted to find perfection to show the world of its majesty, but...if what Shiki finds thinks is perfection...the world would disagree?

No... They must search for their own perfection, their own masterpiece. If they think that the piece is satisfying, beautiful, and special...then it is perfect.

Their quest is not over...

Shiki smiles behind their mask, feeling awoken. To them, it’s as if a veil had been lifted from their eyes so that they can see their true purpose.

No longer did Shiki think the Blaziken is an uncouth brute, no...he is a prophet. He brought them out of the pit of despair and into the light of hope, of destiny, of purpose...

“Thank you, my good friend.” Shiki breathes out, bowing their head at the Blaziken. “Your words have saved me from my own pit of despair.”

The Pokemon shrugs and chuckles in response. “Shucks, just helpin’ someone out is all.”

With newfound respect in their eyes the Toxisharp stands tall, feeling even mightier than ever with their newfound view. “I must go, my friend.” Shiki grins. “For I must find my own piece, my own perfection.” With one more bow the Toxisharp turns and quickly makes their way out, leaving the Blaziken in the middle of the road.

He watches them disappear in the horizon, a smile still fresh on his face. But once he vanishes, they shake their head and begin walking in the opposite direction. “Gotta say, that’s one weird actor.”