Pokemon Headcanon!

A blog of slightly AU headcanon for the pokemon world.  Because! [Now linked to the rp blogs sumofn, spiritofunova, and dragoncaper.]

[dragoncaper]

Trainer's License Features

The Trainer’s License, represented in most regions by the Trainer Card, is a surprisingly high-tech form of identification.

For about two and a half decades, all newly licensed trainers have been issued an electronic license. Non-electronic licenses were, theoretically, systematically replaced for all older trainers, but priority was given to child and teen trainers taking on a traditional pokémon journey. The protagonists of RBY were among the first to receive these new licenses in the Kanto region.

The electronic Trainer’s License has several standard features regardless of issuing region.

 Monitoring Pokémon Status

The Trainer’s License interacts with the trainer’s registered pokéballs. This sometimes includes, to varying extents, the pokéballs of pokémon not currently on the trainer’s person: registered pokémon stored in a PC, enrolled at a Daycare, participating in remote training activities, etc. In early models, information exchanged was limited to whether the pokéballs were functioning properly, whether the pokémon were battle-capable or not, and how many pokémon were being carried. These, however, allowed the Trainer’s License to perform its two primary functions.

Enforcing the 6-Pokemon Party Limit

If the Trainer’s License reads more than 6 registered pokéballs in close proximity to a trainer, it initiates the digitization process to store excess pokémon in the PC. Newer models add more nuance and choice to this process. This feature is locked on by default for all new trainers, but certain League officials can grant permission to toggle it on and off once trainers have reached certain milestones. The Trainer License will still enforce the 6 pokémon party limit in all trainer vs trainer battles. The nearby release of any pokémon not in a trainer’s registered party will result in the battle being considered forfeit for League and prize money purposes.

Trainer’s License SOS

By monitoring registered pokéballs, the Trainer’s License knows when all pokémon in a trainer’s possession have fainted. When this occurs, the SOS activates, transmitting the trainer’s location, and rescue personnel are dispatched. Because many new trainers are young, and particularly empathetic trainers have been known to lose consciousness alongside their pokémon, this feature was the primary impetuous for developing the electronic Trainer’s License. It allows traditional coming-of-age journeys to continue while mitigating some of the risk. Although many argue that pokémon journeys are still far too dangerous to continue in a modern age, this feature has greatly decreased the number of fatalities associated with the practice.

The SOS is hardly failproof, however, especially in earlier models. Officially, although location services can be turned off, the SOS location transmitter feature cannot. Various hacks exist, however, and there are still many areas (such as Mt. Silver and Cerulean Cave) where the feature is simply unable to work as intended.

It is also worth noting that many trainers carry more pokémon than are kept in their registered party. Most trainers, in fact, hold at least one pokémon back during battles to ensure they can safely get home or to a pokémon center after a loss. Parents of very young trainers often send one of their own pokémon to perform this duty for their children. In these cases, a loss does not result in an SOS.

Prize Money Transactions

The Trainer’s License is also responsible for transfer of funds between trainers and following a loss. This service is performed electronically so that any applicable League tax is automatically calculated and removed. In cases where an SOS is sent and no second trainer is involved, the entirety of the funds are transferred to the League to defray the costs of remote rescue. If an SOS is sent and another trainer is involved, the other trainer receives their full share minus applicable fees. The other trainer is expected to keep an eye on the defeated trainer and their team until help arrives.

Access to Services

Although anyone can access the healing services at a Pokémon Center, even if they do not have a Trainer’s License, the License grants access to a few additional services. The PC is only accessible to registered trainers, and other technology services are also available to trainers. Most Centers have a small attached dormitory where trainers can stay for several days free of charge. All provide bathing and laundry facilities. Although few Centers provide free food outside of emergency situations, Trainer’s Licenses often provide discounts at affiliated restaurants and PokéMarts.

[abyssal-ruins]

N’s outfit & accessories

N’s clothes were chosen by Anthea and Concordia specifically for him to wear when he went on his pokémon journey. Before leaving Plasma, he generally wore rather generic outfit of loose-fitting pants and shirts. He’s long since outgrown (and largely destroyed) his original journey clothes, but he’s made a point of replacing them with similar items. This is partially out of respect for their choices, but largely out of convenience; human fashion is still a mystery to him, and no one seems to have complained about this particular combination of clothes. It’s safest to just stick with what he knows is acceptable.

The Hat

N’s hat was a gift from Rood before leaving. “Humans love baseball,” he’d told N. Though N hasn’t spoken with the sage since his castle collapsed, he’s very attached to the hat. It’s become quite worn in the past few years, but it’s the one article of clothing he wouldn’t dare replace.

The Puzzle

The puzzle once belonged to N’s mother, and she used it much in the way he does: as a distraction when the world is overwhelming and a way to occupy his hands in stressful situations. It is, in fact, a long-held family heirloom of the Harmonia family, but all N knows is that it seems to be very old.

The Pendant

... It’s apparently a phone. Go figure. The pendant was used as both a tracking and communication device while N was on his pokémon journey. It could receive and send text messages, too, but only by translating the letters into morse code. After the castle collapsed, N tore the device apart and removed all of its electronic components. He still wears it as a reminder of past mistakes.

The Right Bracelet

This bracelet was designed to match the ‘relic band’ cuff bracelets found in the Relic Castle, and it was meant to be an indication as N’s status as King and, before that, King-to-be. He has worn it since shortly after he was retrieved from the forest by Plasma. As such, he has grown into it. It cannot presently be removed without either damaging it or N’s right hand.

The Left Bracelets

The three square bangles were a gift from the Shadow Triad. They had a twofold purpose. First, they acted as an audible signal to help N focus his attention; their slight clang was a good distraction and reminder. Second, because they were noisy, they served to teach him both to avoid fidgeting and to move with cautious intention. Though he’s definitely no ninja, they’ve helped teach N how to move quite silently.

[abyssal-ruins]

Tansy Harmonia

Tansy Harmonia was an empath, naturally able to feel and understand the emotions of both humans and pokémon. It was both a gift and a curse; she had a difficult time closing her mind to those of others, and strong emotions could often overwhelm her. Even so, she was irrepressibly cheerful. She was tall, willowy, with a golden mess of frizzy hair that refused to stay tied down. She'd often force it into a chunky braid, but strands invariably snuck out from the twists and floated around her head in a sunny halo. She refused to wear shoes unless absolutely necessary, and she loved long, light skirts that tickled her ankles and collected mud a good seven inches past the hemlines.

Her family was itinerant, never staying in one place for longer than half a year. Her father said it was for his work, so that he could study and teach at as many schools as possible. Her grandmother said it was because they were exiles from their ancestral home, cursed to wander the regions until they atoned for their past misdeeds. But her grandmother also threw salt over her shoulder and filled her pockets with rue, so Tansy didn't put much stock in her words.

Truthfully, she thought it was because of her mother. Mallory had grounded them, kept them anchored. Tansy still remembered the cool cast of her mother's eyes and the smiling touch of her fingers in her hair. But she'd died years back, when Tansy had just learned to tie her own shoes and count up to one hundred. She'd been promised a brother, and instead received a dress in funeral black and a sturdy suitcase.

It hardly mattered which reason was right. Tansy was lonely, sometimes, but the freedom of travel outweighed the lack of steady company. She would be a tumbleweed, she decided, a Hoppip, a dandelion fluff: blowing from place to place until she found the perfect place to sprout and take root.

She was 22 when she met the boy. He had fires in his eyes and leaves in his hair, and his emotions had the sweetest fervor she'd ever tasted when they spilled into her head. He spoke to her of poetry and philosophy and legends. She spoke to him of history and dreams and world reformation. When he wandered on, she wandered with him. It wasn't a place to grow, but it was a way to reach it.

She called him 'boy,' though he was eight years her senior, up until she agreed to marry him. Then she called him 'mine,' and 'love,' and 'Ghetsis.' She gave him her family's name, since his had failed him, though hers was hardly better. He gave her devotion, and they shared ideas and plans and possibilities. They met like minds and to-be friends. She charmed them, and he convinced them, and they carved out little niches of community where they could take root, if they chose.

They promised each other dangerous things: love, revolution, a child. The first burned bright. The second burned slow. The third burned her out.

[abyssal-ruins]

Lance mostly avoids considering what he might do besides being Champion. It's not that he doesn't like planning ahead, but he fully expects that the job will kill him, in the end. Training Dragons is dangerous enough, and being at the front lines for whatever trouble might arise in two regions has even more risks. He acknowledges and accepts those risks as worthwhile. But dwelling on the eventuality for too long is as hard as explaining it to someone, so he skirts around the topic. He loves what he does, and though he might love another vocation just as much, it’s too risky to imagine doing anything else.

[abyssal-ruins]

Dragon Tamer Capes

"We have a customer, Lance, who occasionally comes. He always buys capes. I wonder... Does he have many identical capes at home?"

Besides being a fashion statement, capes are a vital tool for a dragon trainer.

The primary use of a cape is for purposes similar to a raptor hood. Although there are notable exceptions, most dragons can be calmed much more quickly in a dark, familiar-smelling environment. If your dragon becomes unreasonably agitated, remove your cape and hold it over your dragon’s head.

The lining is often of a high contrast color. It can be used to draw and hold a dragon’s attention.  Ideally, it will also include a layer woven of a type-dampening fiber and be dyed with the fruit of that same plant. Haban, which dampens the effects of Dragon attacks, is most common, and results in a vibrant red or maroon color. An agitated dragon may take some time to calm down even with the use of a cape-hood, and this layer will help insulate you from bites and breath attacks.

Expect to go through several capes while training a young dragon.

Capes also serve many practical purposes, including protection from the elements, makeshift bedding, and impromptu beach and/or picnic blankets.

IMPORTANT:

Always ensure that your cape is designed to release under minimum pressure. When possible, neck clasps should be breakaway and be supplemented by additional, easily-released clasps to the shoulders of your garment. 

Even with these precautions, malfunctions can occur and be potentially life-threatening.  If you fall while flying, your dragon’s natural instinct will be to grab for your cape. It is of utmost importance that your dragon be taught as soon as possible to get beneath you to catch you, or, if that is not feasible, grab an arm or other limb in the event of a fall. An injured and/or dislocated limb is preferable to potential strangulation.

[abyssal-ruins]

N scrubbed at his face. He was well aware that his hands were far dirtier than his cheeks; all he was accomplishing was to smear more grime over them, but he was tired, and he felt like his eyes might escape from his face if he didn't try to screw them back in place. 'We should call it a day.' It wasn't the first time Zed had said that this evening. Like the times before, it was clear the Zoroark was saying it for N's sake; though just as filthy as his human friend, the pokemon looked hardly the worse for the wear despite their arduous task.  But then, that's how it always had been, especially these last few years.  They'd both tried to take on the world completely unprepared, but it was Zed who had taken up the slack when N faltered.  N had become increasingly aware of how often that was. N shook his head, shook out his arms in a vain attempt to shake more energy into them.  "Not yet.  We've nearly gotten through."  And they had, he thought. If his calculations were correct--and, unless his brain had gone as numb as his fingers, they were--there was now less than a foot left to clear. And if he stopped now, he didn't know if he could muster the strength and courage to try again.

Zed looked like he wanted to protest, but he aimed at another boulder instead, smashing it with an efficient, well-placed jab.  They worked in silence for another several minutes, N striking and shifting the looser material with his borrowed shovel, Zed shattering what was too dense for N to break through.

Finally, N stepped back, blinking blearily at the mountainside wall in front of them.  He sized up what remained to be done.  "I think, now, and here, with appropriate force--" Gathering what strength he had left, N stabbed the shovel at a point just down and left of the center of their efforts.

The shovel rebounded and jabbed him in the chin.

'N!' the Zoroark exclaimed. He snatched up the shovel as N dropped it to massage his jaw before the tool to cause any more damage.

"Ow. 'Mfine," N mumbled.  Obviously, he didn't have the appropriate force.  "Zed, could'jo--"

'Right.'  Abandoning the shovel, Zed drew his claws together into a crimson point, drew back his arm, and struck the rock face where N had aimed. The wall gave way, collapsing inward.  Beyond lay a stretching cavern, lit dimly by breaks in the cave ceiling where the late-day light streamed in.

N followed Zed over the rubble and into the cavern.  It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the lower light, but he quickly saw what his best friend was staring at.  "It is here."  Beyond a steeply-edged chasm, so deep and dark it was like a moat of pitch, it stood. It stood, against all odds, against all reason, relatively intact, reaching a battered staircase across the darkness like a spider reaching a leg to another perch.  The castle.  His castle.  His home, his history, his shame: still standing, illuminated by far-away dying sunlight.

They'd glimpsed it from above, heard about it from smaller pokemon who could fit through the tiny spaces that naturally lead to the cavern.  But now that it was in front of him, N wasn't sure he'd ever believed it was really going to be here.  And now that they'd made it, that it was this close . . .

Maybe some things were meant to stay buried.

'We should call it a day,' Zed said again, and this time N didn't protest.  Instead, he nodded numbly, unwilling to venture any closer to that looming structure.  No.  Not now.  Not yet.  Maybe not at all. Together, the two picked their way back through the rocky debris, back into the evening air of Victory Road.

[abyssal-ruins]

Psychic Master Lucian

Lucian is arguably the least showy of the Pokemon League psychics. Part of this is a matter of preference on his part; he sees no reason for theatrics, and he finds that many people consider psychic abilities disconcerting. Primarily, however, those sorts of activities--telekinesis, mind reading, precognition--are not his area of expertise.  He has had to work to develop his abilities in the first two and is thankful to have little experience in the third.  His natural talents are largely personal, enhancing his cognitive skills and ability to absorb and retain information.  Unsurprisingly, he is a voracious reader, usually reading at many times the speed of an average human.  He remembers details very precisely and has excellent recall. His strongest and most volatile abilities, however, are psychometry and retrocognition.  He is very careful about touch; by touching an object or person, he is able--and sometimes forced--to learn any number of things about a person's history, personality, intentions, which is both occasionally useful and terribly disconcerting, to say nothing of intrusive.  To this end, although he often utilizes the Canalave library and maintains the Sinnoh League's library, he keeps a private collection of books, obtained directly from publishing houses, that only he is allowed to touch.  He finds these especially calming: the psychic equivalent of finding a quiet room to lie down in. In a similar private collection, Lucian collects signed books.  The author's touch, he finds, can add a whole new layer of meaning to the text--though he has occasionally found an author's psychic residue to be so off-putting that he has stopped reading his/her work entirely.

[fytte-bit]

(And another thing--!)

Entering the deeper cave was like walking into a wave of winter.  Her eyelashes threatened to freeze together, and the cold dry air stole her breath away in frosted, misty plumes.  No wonder the water near the entrance was frozen over.

"You’re leaking again," she noted, dismayed.  "I thought maybe you were getting better, but you’re obviously not.  You know, if you’d let me see you, I bet I could help.”

There was no audible response, nor any sign of the Ice Dragon.  If she turned her face, though, she could just guess where he was hiding: deep in the shadows, in the direction where the cold didn’t just sting, but numbed and burned at her exposed cheeks.  She moved to face that corner.  ”Well, you can keep being antisocial if you want, but that’s not going to make you feel better!”

Rosa crouched, digging in her bag.  She pulled out a cooler bag, a bottle …  ”Look, I brought you Casteliacones.  You ate that one the other day, so I figured I’d bring some more.  And some Berry Juice.  And—oh.  A silk scarf.  Do you need a scarf?  You probably do.  I didn’t mean to bring that, but you can have that, too.  You’d look nice in a scarf.  You’ll have to put it on yourself,” she added pointedly, “if you won’t come out and see me.  And I’ll bet you can’t do that, put it on, ‘cause you’ve got stubby stubby little arms!”

She spread the scarf out like a picnic blanket and laid the treats methodically across it.  The juice had already turned from a liquid to an icy sludge by the time she poured it out into a bowl, but there was little avoiding that.  ”I thought about bringing you, I don’t know, like a bucket full of Basculin?  But that felt kind of mean if I didn’t know you were going to want them, and anyway, you’re not a Seel. Are you?  You’re not a Seel at all, right?  The pokedex never talks about that sort of thing, so I get confused.  You look sort of Seel-like, but only sort of.  Anyway, I’m good at fishing, so if you want Basculin … “

Her expression twisted.  ”Well, if you want Basculin, you’ll have to actually interact with me somehow so I know!”  Rosa huffed and sat cross-legged in front of the frozen picnic.  ”You just seem so lonely,” she explained.  ”I’ve never seen any other pokemon in here.  And I figure you don’t much mind me coming, or you’d have attacked me by now.  But still, it’d be nice to actually see you or hear you again.  Rather than just know you’re here because you’re crazy ridiculously brr cold.  Do you mean to be brr-cold?  Was that what you were, originally, before you and the others got broken?”

She had to take a moment to hide her face under her scarf and rub at it to try to get some feeling back into her nose and cheeks.  It was a doomed effort.  By the time her face felt sufficiently warm, her fingers were starting to freeze despite her thick mittens.  She stuffed them behind her knees to try to warm them.

"Anyway.  Reshiram is home.  And Zekrom’s back with his human, and they’re looking after things.  I think they’ll be okay.  So you don’t have to worry about him.  Or the shwoooooomzwap! thing.”  She’d have gestured to illustrate the splicer’s effect, but that would have required freeing her hands again.  ”I don’t think that was a good idea.  Maybe it felt better for you, but Reshiram sure didn’t like it and I don’t think it’s how you’re meant to fit back together.  If you can fit back together.  But it’s really unbalanced anyway, isn’t it, if you don’t all three go together at once?”

Rosa stood abruptly and shook her whole body, waving arms and legs.  ”Brrrrcoldcoldcold really absolutely—  I gotta go.  I reaaaaaally need to thaw out.  I’ll come back tomorrow, okay?  I think I’m meeting someone at the Ferris wheel … but that won’t take long.”  She gathered up her bag with clumsy-cold mittened hands.  ”Hey!  I’ll bring bubbles next time, yeah?  I saw that on TV once.  I’ve always wanted to freeze bubbles that way.  It’ll be fun!”  Blowing a kiss, she made her way towards the cave mouth and the Giant Chasm beyond.  ”Take care of yourself, big boy, alright?”

The berry juice had frozen solid by the time Kyurem shuffled out from the shadows, but it would have frozen anyway, once he’d approached it.  He ate the cones and juice, the latter bowl and all.  He thought, just perhaps, that he liked them.  It wasn’t because of the taste—frozen food and a frozen mouth seemed to blend all flavors together—but there was something else about them that made him feel just the faintest bit warm.

He raked at the silk scarf with his hind feet until it made a messy, silken pile, and lay on it.

[fytte-bit]

The thing is, that's not for you to decide.

[[This is part three. part one || part two]]

It didn’t take long to reach Nimbasa, not the way Zekrom flew.  Still, it was more than enough time for a dozen possible scenarios to play themselves out in White’s head.  She’d always thought she’d somehow know if something terrible happened to N, that the link between Reshiram and Zekrom in some way extended to the two of them.  But she couldn’t even pretend to rely on that now, not with Reshiram dormant and anxiously waiting in her arms.

But as they closed in on the amusement park, it was plain that most of her worrying had been for nothing.  There he stood, same off-kilter stance, same wandering gaze, same damn outfit as he’d worn two years before.  White wasn’t sure whether she was more relieved or irritated to see him there, just as promised, and it felt far easier to give in to the frustration.

Read More

[fytte-bit]

The thing is, he gave me Reshiram.

[[This is part two. part one ]]

Gardening was nice.  Relaxing and normal.  White hadn’t realized how much she’d missed digging her hands into soil while she was out exploring the world.  There wasn’t much opportunity to get your hands dirty—literally—while traveling.  Her mother had added a bit to the garden while she was away, but hadn’t quite had the time to keep it up.  White was glad to have an excuse to dedicate a morning to it.

“White! You’re White!”

Startled, White looked up from her mother’s flower box. A—girl?—young woman? White could never decide what noun she should be using—was just coming to a stop, long pigtails billowing behind her as she slowed. White recognized the hairstyle from Cheren and Bianca’s photos earlier that week.  And now her name was escaping her.

“You’re White, right? That rhymed. I didn’t mean to rhyme.”

“Sorry, yeah. I’m White.” White straightened. She started to extend a hand to the girl and realized it was covered in dirt. “Sorry, weeding,” she explained, wiping her hands on her jeans. “You must be …”

“Rosa,” the girl filled in.

“Rosa! Right, Biana and Cheren mentioned you. Great job, by the way. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Rosa seemed embarrassed and more uncomfortable than pleased. “I’ve heard a lot about you, too.  Pretty sure I’ve been living in your shadow since I started out.”

"Oh."  Of course.  Getting her first partner from Bianca, her first badge from Cheren—then meeting probably everyone else she’d met two years ago …  "I’m sorry.  Bianca and Cheren and I grew up together, and then everything with Plasma two years ago, I guess—" "No, they’re great.  Um, no, it’s more …  There’s this other guy, N?"

White’s mind went blank. Her face must have, too, because Rosa grimaced.  The younger trainer tugged on her pigtail, pulling tight her left bun. It left her looking distressingly lopsided. “I mean, it’s none of my business. And yeah, he’s kind of a stalker.  I get that vibe and I know he’s only bothering me ‘cause he can’t find you. So it’s none of my business,” she repeated. She shifted from foot to foot in a way oddly reminiscent of Bianca. “And I should probably be warning you away. But see, I think he’s sort of … I don’t really know how to help. It’s one thing that he’s been at the Ferris Wheel every week.  But it’s just, yesterday…  He gave me Reshiram.”

The dragon’s name snapped her back.  ”He what?”

"I ran across him while I was exploring the Victory Road ruins, and he challenged me to a battle and I beat him, and … he just insisted …  Maybe I’m making a big deal out of this.  He sounded perfectly rational about it all,” Rosa admitted, then steeled herself again.  ”No, no.  This is a big deal.  I’m worried!  His father was seriously off the deep end after all that with Kyurem.  And he looks more worn-out every week.  And he’s giving away his friends.  That’s gotta be a huge … something.  Warning sign, cry for help.  I’m worried.  And … I don’t think he’ll take help from me.  I checked with Rood at the house in Driftveil, but he didn’t even know N was here.  And I’d ask Alder, but I can’t find him, and Benga hasn’t heard from him, either.  And Cheren and Bianca said you were the one to talk to, so … “

Rosa’s hands went to her bag.  White expected her to bring out a pokeball, but instead Rosa pulled out a pearly white sphere.  The Light Stone.  She cradled it in both hands like you would hold your first Pokemon Egg: gingerly, awkwardly, afraid it might break or hatch or slip from your fingers.

Zekrom keened lowly in the back of White’s mind, and she echoed his cry aloud: “Oh, Reshiram …”  She had to resist the urge to grab the stone from Rosa’s hands and hug it close, keep it warm and safe and stroke it and let Reshiram know it would be alright.  It looked so cold and lonely, felt so cold and lonely—and that was ridiculous, because from everything she’d heard, Rosa was a good person and a perfectly capable trainer.  But still—

Rosa seemed to have similar thoughts.  She thrust the Light Stone at White.  ”I should not have this.  For multiple reasons.  Kyurem being one.  And Reshiram didn’t want to leave N, and I can’t just—  He definitely won’t take him back from me.  But I think he will from you.  I think he will.  He seems to respect you.  Despite being kind of obsessed. I don’t want to just force it on you but—please take it.”

Needing no more prompting, White snatched the Stone and clutched it to her chest.  Nevermind the dirt from her hands.  Nevermind.  It felt cool on first touch, but somehow heated from within, and it quickly warmed under her hands.  Still close, then.  Not at all as lifeless as she remembered the Dark Stone to be when she first held it.

"I don’t know if we should … call the police or Iris or—"

"I’ll take care of it," White found herself saying, and now despite all her earlier intentions to the contrary, she knew she had to follow through.  Whatever else might be involved, whatever her personal feelings might be, this was her responsibility.  She put out the mental call to Zekrom.  ”Today’s Friday, isn’t it?  You meet him at the Ferris Wheel on Fridays, right?”

"Fridays, yeah.  I haven’t been by yet today.  I don’t know if he’s—"

"I’ll find him."  Zekrom arrived and landed in a flurry of agitated static.  It set both trainers’ hair frizzing out from their ponytails.  White barely noticed how calm Rosa seemed about the lightning dragon’s sudden appearance, but it was no surprise now that the girl had stood up to Plasma and a fused pair of dragons.  Zekrom acknowledged Rosa with a brief nod as White took to his back, Light Stone still in hand.  An ostentation way to travel, certainly, but Zekrom was the most expedient option, and White wanted there to be no doubt that she meant business.

"It’s nice to meet you, by the way!" White shouted belatedly over the whir of Zekrom’s turbine revving up.  "We’ll get together some time, yeah?"

"Uh, yeah!  Sounds good!" Rosa shouted back, but White and Zekrom were already long gone.  She watched them for a short moment in the relative silence.  Nearby, the garden hose still spurted water at a leaky connection to the sprayer.  Rosa traced it back to the house spigot and turned it off.

—-

part 3

[fytte-bit]

The thing is, I can't deal with him right now.

"So." Bianca leaned over her steaming mug, smiling conspiratorially.

White frowned and sipped her coffee. “So?”

"Soooo, we talked about my boy. It’s your turn." The steam was fogging up Bianca’s glasses. She pulled them off her nose and peered at them, then dabbed at them with her shirt sleeve. "N. Have you met up yet?"

"Oh. No."

"Are you excited to meet up?"

"No," White groaned. She tilted back in her chair and staired up at the ceiling. "Can we not talk about him now?"

"How can we not talk about him now?"

"Easy.  We change the topic and we don’t come back to it."

Bianca’s enthusiasm refused to be daunted.  ”White, come on.  He’s in Unova!  Rosa sees him all the time, and she says he’s always bringing you up.” "Rosa!"  White threw on a smile and straightened up.  "There’s someone I need to meet.  When does she usually come around?" "White!  No topic change!  N."

"Rosa!"

"Ferris Wheel," Bianca capitulated quickly.  "She comes by almost every day.  And hey, guess who she says is there on Fridays and wants to see you?"

White gave the other direction a try and hunched over her mug, staring at the froth at its edges. “Well, what if I don’t want to see him?”

"What?  Did you or did you not chase that boy halfway—"

"It was more than halfway," White muttered.

"All across the globe," Bianca amended, undeterred, "for, how long was it?"

"Nineteen months."  White gave up on her coffee and buried her face in her folded arms on the table.

"Did you or did you not chase that boy across the globe for nineteen months?"

"Yes!" Her voice was muffled by her sleeves.  "And how pathetic is that?  Nineteen months on a stupid boy."

"It’s kind of romantic …"

"It is definitely not romantic." White sat up enough to prop her chin on her fist and glowered.  She wasn’t sure whether it was meant to be directed at Bianca or herself.  "It’s pathetic.  And creepy!  I thought he was fixated on me back then, but what the hell have I been doing for the last … way too long!"

"Well."  Bianca fretted at the foil wrapper from her creamer.  "You were worried about him."

"Well, yeah!  I mean, I pretty much literally destroyed his life.  And then he just runs off without telling anyone anything and no one hears from him, and, well you met him—it’s not like he has social skills or …  Auuugh!"  White pulled her hair from both sides.  "But obviously he was just fine and didn’t want to see me at all because he sure didn’t slow down or try to get in touch with me and I finally give up and come home and he’s here and now he wants to talk to me?!  Now?!”

It had started as worry, feeling responsible and tying up loose ends.  From what she could tell, N had been hand-held through most of his life.  He certainly had no experience with how normal humans got through their days.  Just heading off into the world on his own, as naive and inexperienced as he was …  It had felt somehow unbalanced, too, for her and Zekrom to stay in Unova, while N and Reshiram were away.  She hadn’t won, not like that.  Hadn’t the whole point been that they could get along, that there didn’t have to be a winner?

But somewhere along the line … maybe something had changed.  She wasn’t sure.  It must have, mustn’t it?  If you haven’t found someone stranded on the side of the road in a few months, they must be doing alright on their own.  Had her motivations changed?  Had she changed?  She wasn’t even sure if she remembered N the way he actually was, or if she’d gone over things so often over the months that she’d distorted him in her mind.  And nineteen months—!

She dropped her head back to the table and groaned.  ”I can’t.  I just, I can’t deal with him right now.  I can’t deal with me dealing with him.”

Wordlessly, Bianca considered her friend.  It wasn’t as though there hadn’t been relationship-related blowouts before, but this was hardly a typical relationship.  Finally, Bianca dug in her bag and produced two Sweet Hearts.  White accepted them and took her time savoring the chocolate.

"Is that better?"

"A little."  White huffed a sigh.

It was Bianca’s turn to prop her chin on her fists.  ”You kind of have to deal with him, sooner or later.”

"I’ll see him eventually.  I guess.  Zekrom wants to see Reshiram at the very least, so that sort of requires …  But not now.  I just got home.  I want to be home for a while.  … I am so glad you still carry emergency Sweet Hearts.”

Bianca’s eyes went wide in mock—or, at least, White assumed it was mock—surprise.  ”Why wouldn’t I?  Emergency Sweet Hearts are important!”

White giggled a little.  The air felt diffused, and Bianca had known not to press more.  It was a bit of resolution, if only momentarily.  ”I know!  I’m glad some things haven’t changed while I’ve been away.”  The momentary reminiscence reminded her of something else.  ”Ah, it’s not Tuesday, is it?  I wish it were Tuesday.  I think I need a Casteliacone.”

"Oh, White."  Bianca grinned.  "You can get Casteliacones /any/ day now."

"What, no, really? When did that happen?"  Some things changing, though, could be very nice.

part 2

[abyssal-ruins]

I'll be (theoretically) continuing these over here rather than on fytte-bit.

[fytte-bit]

(happy birthday)

YOU HAVE ONE NEW VIDEO MESSAGE.

LOADING……..

"Hello there, Silver!  I’m Lyra’s right sock— And I’m Lyra’s left sock!" "Silver, I just want to say this was not my idea."

"Gold’s socks!  How are you doing that?  You’re speaking without moving your sock-mouths!"

"What? Oh.  Uh, right."

"Go on, introduce yourselves.  Yeah, go for it!"

"Um, hi. I’m … Gold’s left sock, and I’m Gold’s right sock."

"Gold, give the socks different voices!"

"I thought I did."

"Lackluster.  That was lackluster.  Aaaaaanyway, we’re here to wish you a happy—"

Read More

[abyssal-ruins]

In retrospect, I should probably be posting these over here.  Maybe I'll remember to do that from now on?

Somebody come up with an adorable shipping name for Bianca/Silver.

[abyssal-ruins]

N's Zoroark

Zed is scared of hugs from Reuniclus.  He thinks if they touch him, a Dark-type, their skin-membrane might dissolve and they'll melt all over him, and that would be terrifying and horrible and gross.  (This has never happened, but White's Reuniclus has taunted him with it before.)

[abyssal-ruins]

The third reason

that Lance avoids Kalos is Goodra.  It's a Dragon, and it's a well-tempered, pretty awesome Dragon, and it's a very slimy, very huggy Dragon.  He still cannot decide what to think about it.  Best to avoid it and delay judgment.

[abyssal-ruins]

Lance avoids Kalos

primarily for two reasons. First, until he's up close, he keeps mistaking all the male Ace Trainers for Will, which is very awkward and a bit disheartening. Second, he's afraid of Valerie. Not her pokemon--Lance considers the Fairy type to be an exciting new challenge. But Valerie herself is terrifying. Her lack of pupils scares him, and he's not entirely sure she's not actually one of the more malevolent sort of aliens from the sci-fi movies he loves so much.

[abyssal-ruins]

Mugs

Alder collects a lot of strange souvenirs on his wanderings, but the most obvious collection is of mugs.  Mostly hand-made, some perfectly kitschy, in a messy variety of colors and shapes and quality.  Some rarely come out of the cupboard, because he's convinced that some are better for certain drinks than others.  Some are good for coffee, and some for tea, and some for cocoa.  (And then there's spiced cider--!)  Some cross over a bit, but he has yet to find a mug that is perfect for everything.

He had a matching set of six mugs once, given to him by his mother Holly when he first moved into his current home.  All but one quickly became accidentally-on-purpose unsuitable for holding liquid in one way or another: cracks, chips, missing handles . . .  He kept all of the damaged five, though, and uses them to collect other things in the house: pens, loose change, toothbrushes, etc.  The remaining mug is kept in a safe corner of the cupboard, and Holly uses it for her coffee on the very rare occasions when she visits from Sevii.

[ruins-of-alph]

I suspect it went something like this:

Lance: Well, Koga, the paperwork has all gone through, so I can say this officially now: welcome to the Elite Four!

Koga: It is an honor to be counted among you. However …

Lance: … ?

Koga: I do have one small condition.

Lance: Ah?

Koga: Under no...

[abyssal-ruins]

Also this.