Meg and Waka Writings

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An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

I've become so invested in the characters I use to rp with my friends that I can't bring myself to write fanfiction of actual MXTX things. So, here we are with a pokemon setting for a lot of MXTX things. There's a lot of fast and loose playing with the rules of cultivation and the books, oops! It's all a combination of expy characters and original ones, but they are POKEMON, don't worry about it. Pokemon who can switch between their mon forms and gijinka forms at will.

Sects and the like have had their names simplified and modified a bit. It just sort of happened in roleplays?

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You know that whole Meng Yao rescuing Lan Xichen? YEAH, HERE WE GO!! There are all sorts of great takes on this, but may I present for your consideration?? Idiot boys doing their best. 

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Preparing for an Adventure

He stretched and sat on his bed one last time. His room looked just like it always did. His sheets were on his bed, the pictures were on his walls, the books were lined up on their shelves. Nothing looked different from the times he’d left for school. It wasn’t empty. It just lacked something important. Mirza slumped forward; the stress of his day had caught up with him. His arms and back ached. He’d never been good at physical labor. He’d always thought he was better than he actually was and today was no exception. He’d lifted more than he should have and pushed items heavier than he was comfortable with.

He was glad he’d done it. The physical discomfort he was in kept his mind in place. He couldn’t let it wander towards nostalgia. That was too big of a risk. He didn’t want to think about the nights he spent in bed when he was a young boy. He didn’t want to remember how his mother sat on the edge of his bed and sang him to sleep or how he’d insisted on a candle in his room on the nights when the storms were strong. He couldn’t let himself remember the chilly winter mornings when he lay under his blankets, awake, but unwilling to face the world. He had to push back his thoughts about all the letters he opened on his bed, a journal by his side so he could write a reply as soon as possible.

The rest of the house had memories, too. Every corner of it held a story from his life. It wasn’t that those memories were less than the memories in his room, it was just easier to come to terms with leaving those places. His room had been his own space for as long as he could remember. Every other room he lived in was shared with another, from the living spaces of his family’s home to the dorm room he shared with his best friend at school. This was his one true retreat. It was a place he’d built up as a haven. It was his place he could come home to, even after a long year at school, and feel safe in.

With this move, he would lose his one secure room. He could come back and sleep in it, sure, but, he wouldn’t live here anymore. It would no longer be his place. In ten minutes, when he left his home, he would lose his protection from the world. He could not come back if he felt lost or scared. He had to find a new place to draw comfort from and make new memories in. The aches from his body were not enough to keep the sad thoughts his mind clung to at bay. He pulled his knees up to his chest. He should feel excited to think about the new possibilities in his life. It was normal for a person to leave the home they grew up in and make themselves a new place to belong. That wasn’t strange or out of the ordinary.

He couldn’t manage excitement. He felt sick.

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Alive

He shouldn’t be alive. He’d lost that right at least ten years ago. He’d lost it when he tore himself apart and shoved his mother’s love as far away as he could. When he’d split himself into hot and cold. He couldn’t deal with this much longer. He couldn’t remember what it felt like to be warm. All he knew was the hollow chill he’d left himself with. All he remembered was the desire to never feel the hot twist of emotions again. All he remembered was how gentle she’d felt when she picked him up. That warmth was impossible for him to understand. He’d cut it away from his very being. He’d thrown it aside and left it to wither away. It was impossible for him to remember. He would not let himself remember. He would not be weak again. He would be cold and distant.

He would burn until he burned away into nothing. He could hope they found their way. He could hope they would be strong enough to stop him. He had to believe in them. He had to believe in his friends. They reminded him what was at stake if he hesitated again. They reminded him of her love when he felt he could lose himself to the great fire within him. They trusted him despite knowing only bits and pieces of him. How could he not love his friends? How could he not dedicate the fire he felt within his battered soul to a vigil in hopes that they would find him. He’d stood firm these past ten years. He’d seen the world die around him and felt himself weaken. He had to stay alive.

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Together

They all weren’t quite sure when it happened. it was somewhere along the way, some point where they were so exhausted from the long day’s travel that the lot of them collapsed into a heap on the hotel bed and just slept that way. waking up in a pile. it had maybe started with just the three of them, if it had happened when there was only two, they never spoke of it. and while the third would puzzle over them, as he tended to do, he wouldn’t dare actually ask. but despite everything, they grew comfortable with each other in those moments of exhaustion. it had changed a bit when the fourth came, as he seemed a bit wary and a little stiff despite his friendly demeanor. they had to work on him with it, and it took awhile to break down this odd wall of professionalism he seemed to hold. but the others were equal parts determined and stubborn and every one of them pulled the fourth into all sorts of strange shenanigans to both show him the strange world he now found himself in and to try and simply pull him into that level of closeness that the three of them shared. eventually, it paid off, and he ended up joining them in their strange innocently intimate bed pile. the three shared a knowing look of victory, of which the fourth, missing nothing immediately chided them for, but was much like them, too tired to really argue for it. they settled, finally together, and slept.

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Cry

The sky was crying when they assumed the form they chose for this. they called it rain, it was a result of the titan of the sea’s influence initially that caused this to start occurring on the land. everything connected everything working together into one whole. They liked this idea. the form was smaller, venerable. they shed their plates, their infinite power as a small whisper of their former self. a small white creature unassuming about the world. their mind faded a bit once put into this smaller form, most of it contained in the pieces it had lost. it moved them about the lands, hid them, made them safe. they would effect the area but not in a drastic harmful way, of that it was sure. the last thing the great one felt before slipping away entirely was an immense satisfaction at a job well done. it was time to live.

Confusion pooled in the small creature’s mind as he dodged through the trees and rain. it was cold, it was wet, and he shook the rain from his fur once more. there was.. there was a leaf. there was a creature under the leaf. it was curled up, it looked cold. that wasn’t good, he decided, and approached. “is this seat taken?” it seemed like the right thing to say. the creature chirped, shying away a bit at the sudden intrusion, then flinched back when this sent them outside the leaf shelter. he took that moment to snake his tail around them and pull her back in, settled around them. He just knew, he was warmer than the outside despite being damp himself and the creature trilled a bit once the shock wore off and they realized they were no longer cold and alone. his ears flicked a bit. it was a lovely sound. he liked it. he gave them a little lick in return. this was nice, and good, but it still felt quite late. so he slept.

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Jar

Lenora'd told him he didn't have to come by today. She didn't have anything to bake for the shop today, but that was ok. He wanted to stop by and visit. He had a whole present for her, anyways. One jar of honey! He'd gotten it from some bugs who found their way into his forest. Julio didn't like having them around, but Lonnie loved to see them at night. It was like the stars had come down from the sky for an hour.

He tapped his fingers against the smooth side of the jar. That's what he had in his hands. Space honey, right from the stars! He knew Lenora wanted something sweet to bake with, and, after the incident with the pecha berries, he'd made up his mind that he must make amends and replace the lost sweeteners any way he could.

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Hope

"I hope I'm not bothering you!"

"You're not."

"I'm just so-"

The celebi collapsed face first onto Edith's bed, his voice muffled by the feather duvet. Edith folded her arms together and shook her head. She never knew how to approach the kid. One minute, he'd babble on and on about whatever came to mind for him, the next, he'd pull an act like this.

She sat down on the bed and hoisted him into a sitting position next to her. He offered no resistance and tilted against her the moment she took her hands away.

"That's better. It's hard to hear when you talk to my bed instead of my face."

"Bhhhh, sorry, I'm just! So!"

"So?"

"So mad! I told Twilla I wanted to help her with her harvest, but then Pascal found me an' he said I had to come with him, 'n I had to spend the whole day standing still for him. Every time I tried telling him I had to go, he'd interrupt me, it was so dumb!"

Edith shut her eyes and nodded. Yes, that did sound like Pascal. He'd taken a shine to both Lonnie himself and Lonnie's habit of agreeing to help out with any situation that presented itself. Sounded like Lonnie'd had enough of it, though. She exhaled and wrapped an arm around him.

"How about afterwards? Did you tell him you were mad?"

Lonnie squirmed, his antennae curled up against the top of his head.

"Nnnnnno."

"He won't know to change his ways if you don't tell him what he's doing wrong."

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Kill

He stared down at the crushed plant under Barrett's feet, his hands clenched into tiny balls.

"You killed it."

"Killed it? What did I- ohh, look at that. You've got flowers growing inside your place, too. Sorry, kid, I didn't notice it down there."

Lonnie's antennae drooped. He took care of his flowers, he looked after them as best as he could. How could this happen? Did he need to make signs? Would that stop his guests? Was there any point in it, or were his poor plants just gunna get crushed to death again and again?

"Hey now, watch the waterworks. It doesn't look dead to me. Have you never seen somethin' bounce back before?"

The plant child looked up at Barrett, face flushed and eyes wet.

"Noooo, no, I don't let them die in the first place!"

Barrett smiled and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Well, see, plants like this flower are tougher than they look. Especially when they have a friend lookin' out for'm. I bet you can get this little pretty standin' upright in no time. Give it a shot."

"I can't-"

"Hey now, you won't know unless you try."

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Turn

"Turn and turn and turn and- there! Perfect! Beautiful! Look at you!"

They turned their head towards the mirror, but a firm hand caught their chin.

"Aup! No, hold still. You can see what you look like later. Right now, dear girl, I need you to freeze. Even the slightest movement, the tiniest slip, will ruin the entire energy of this piece! Now, we wouldn't want that, would we?"

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Spring

"If we dig down far enough, we'll find water. There's a spring real close by that the village gets its water from. I bet we can dig a well here so you can water your plants."

"But, digging's hard. I don't wanna dig."

"Well, how else can you get a bucket down to pull up the water? It's either this or you get a jug and visit the spring every day."

"I don't want to do either of those. I want the water up here where I can use it."

The hippowdon laughed and shook his head. The green traveler had to be a kid. There was no other explanation for this. None. All that talk Sable spouted about a wise and powerful spirit of nature was crazy. The kid might have a knack with plants, but they had no sense of responsibility or effect.

"Ain't that a shame. Guess these pretty flowers of yours will have to wilt."

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"Lonnie, hey, it's been a while, hasn't it? A few weeks at least. I'm sorry I was gone for so long. I had to talk to some people about things."

 The celebi patted the dirt close around the sprout, his attention locked on the saplings he'd set aside to plant. He'd given himself a tight schedule today; it was important to remember that Time wasn't something to play with, even if he had the ability to ignore its constraints. After this long on his own, he found it relaxing to stay in the provided timeframe and adjust himself rather than the flow to meet his needs. Once the tiny tree was safe in the ground, he looked up and smiled at the spewpa.

 "It's okay. A few weeks isn't too long. Besides, I said you can come back any time you need to. It's not like my offer's going to go away or something." He brushed the dirt off his hands and straightened up. "It's nice to see you again, Wilson. You look like you're doing better."

 "Yeah, I guess I am." Wilson paused and looked at the celebi, his soft cloak floofed out beyond its normal levels. "I owe it all to you. You saved my life."

 Lonnie's antennae curled back against his head and he smiled. He must have talked to Wilson about this a hundred times by now. It wasn't a burden for him to take care of travelers and show them how to survive better on their own. He liked helping and he liked knowing that the people he talked to and taught had learned more about forests and how to survive in them with plants and berries and sheltered places that could be easily found and identified.

 "I'm happy I was able to help. You were a really attentive learner."

 Maybe a little more attentive than Lonnie was used to, but, he didn't know as much about mortals as he could. Sure, he helped them out when he could and loved to sit and listen to them tell stories about their lives, but, there was always a distance between himself and his guests. He'd never been sure if it was because he was a strange type of pokemon, or if it had to do with his life in the woods. Either way, it wasn't a gap Lonnie minded. He wasn't quite sure how to handle mortals yet, and the small doses of interaction he got were just enough for him to feel informed without him getting overwhelmed.

 Most of them were like that, at least. The spewpa was a special case.  Wilson had shown up just a month earlier, bedraggled and starving, and asked him for help. Lonnie had done his best to show him what he knew, and the bug proved to be a fast and competent learner. He gave Lonnie a lot more attention than Lonnie was used to. He'd had some when he lived with Time, but since then, he'd had a fairly limited time in the limelight. He wasn't sure how he felt about Wilson giving him his undivided attention or asking to sleep next to him when night fell. Maybe it was flattering. It probably was, he'd decided. Flattering or not, it kept Lonnie on edge. He didn't know how to handle Wilson.

 "Still, I, uh, I'm just really glad I got to see you again, Lonnie. I missed you a lot."

 The bug shuffled closer. Here it was, the same situation as before, and here he was, not sure how to handle the affectionate bug. He smiled and prepared for the strange amount of attention to begin once again as Wilson plopped down next to him, his fluff brushing against the celebi's side.

 Heat spread through Lonnie's body, and the plant's wings flicked out at attention. Everything inside him lit up with energy he couldn't recognize while his head swirled with activity. He looked at Wilson and saw his mouth move, but everything was slower than it should be. It was like mud weighed down every inch of his body, holding him in place as he stared at the bug. Had he always felt this strange when he looked at his guest? Had his heart always hurt like this when he showed up?

 He pressed his hands against his chest and tried to capture the warmth he felt inside of him. The intensity of it took the breath out of him and made his head spin as Wilson's words slid past his perception. Silence fell between them and Lonnie realized his mistake. He'd said something, hadn't he? Wilson'd said something, but he was too distracted to understand. What was he supposed to do in this situation? Should he ask what he said? Was it ok if he didn't? He wasn't sure he could manage to talk with all this emotion locked up inside of him. Was it ok if he just stared at him? That wasn't bad, right? It made sense. He was such an interesting person, people must stare at him all the time. He was probably used to it, but, then, maybe that was just some bad rationalization on Lonnie's part. He wasn't sure what to do, but he had to do something!

 Lonnie nodded. There, that was something, that was ok, he wasn't sure what he was nodding about, but whatever this bug said had to be something worth agreeing to. He couldn't look away from him, he had to keep his eyes on the spewpa's dappled coat and sparkling eyes and he pressed his hands closer against his chest. Why did he feel like this? What was this sensation and why had it hit him so hard? It was a challenge to keep his mind off of the bug. He couldn't keep focused on what he was working on before this beautiful creature returned.

 Wilson's eyes gleamed as a smile stretched across his face. Lonnie wasn't sure what had made him so happy, but, he couldn't bring himself to care at this moment. Sure, it'd be nice to know, especially since he liked the idea of Wilson smiling again in the future, but it was too hard to focus. It was easier to accept that the spewpa was happy and continue from there.

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I hate them. I hate how they talk and how they look and what they do. This isn't a day trip. They shouldn't look like that. There is no time for feelings when the fate of the world is on the line. They can't take things seriously enough not to look at her with their disgusting, smitten faces, as if she's the only thing that matters. I don't know why she puts up with it. She could stop them if she wanted to, but she lets them talk and lets them-

I don't know what else she lets them do. I can only see what happens on the battlefield. It doesn't matter what she's doing or who she's talking to, and yet, I can't help it. I can't stand them, I can't stand seeing them or hearing them. It's hard enough to keep my focus, feeling the extra souls left on this plane. those creatures are too much to bear, they add too much pressure and too much stress and I'm going to snap. I'm going to kill each and every one of them. I'm going to dig my teeth into their necks and tear off their wings and feel the moment when their spirits leave and their bodies go stiff and I will- I will-

I need to be calm, I need to focus, I need to keep a cool head, I need to collect myself, I need to be more like Darkrai, I need to plan and I need to-

I don't-

I don't know how to handle this, I can't work past it, I just want to tear them apart. I want it so bad it's making me sick, it's settled in my stomach and squeezes my chest until I can't breathe and I can't focus and I can't get past this, it's too present, it's always there, it's right in my face, and, even though I know I've given up on her and even though I know I've chosen to stand up for what I believe in, I have these moments where I want both and I remember that I can't have that, and that she refused to believe me. I don't know what to do, I don't know how to act, I don't know what to be, I don't know what I am, I just know I have to fix things. I can't let anyone else feel like this, I can't let this be someone else's life, I can't let this go.

I can't stop what's happening, even though it's put a wall between us, and even though she's tried to knock down the wall and even though I hate what I see on the other side. If we give up now and if we step back, then we'll never get another chance to make things equal. We'll always be the monsters. There has to be a way to make it even and to make this world feel fair and to stop feeling so terrible. But, every time I see them I feel more and more like a monster.

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Forest of Time II

It occurred to him that he was wrong in every part of how he faced his situation. He stared up at the starry night sky, out of tears to cry and out of emotions to feel. The cool calm that lay over him brought his mind back to his situation and how he approached it from start to present. The night air was colder than he was used to. He didn't like it, but he appreciated how it matched his mood. He spent too much time assuming he could pry himself away from Time. That was impossible. He was part of Time. No matter what he did, he was tied to his creator. Everything he did was tied to Time. The idea that he could find a new path to follow made no sense. It would never happen. He would never allow it to happen, no matter what he told himself. He couldn't think about what he could do for this world to help it because that wasn't what his focus was on.

 He kicked his heels against the ground and dug his fingers into the dirt. He felt the planet's energy seeped in Space and Time. He felt the way life and death pulled together within the ground and the matrix of existence. It felt familiar and comfortable. It wasn't like his home in the Forgotten Realms, but it was close. He was calm. He wasn't happy, but he was collected. Time was a mystery to him. He knew Time, but he did not understand Time. He did not really know how Time thought or what drove Time to act, but he understood where he came from. He knew that Time made him from elements of both itself and what Time enjoyed. If Lonnie could not help Time with important matters, he couldn't give up hope that he was useless. He couldn't try to rewrite his purpose. He just had to re-purpose it and show Time he could manage something on his own.

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Forest of Time I

He could have stayed behind with Time. It was always an option that was open to him, but, he did not know what to say to his creator. He didn't know how to fix what he had done when he hid his problems. Out here, Lonnie could be away from Time and the distrustful, hurt looks it gave him when he tried to talk. It was better for both of them if he stayed away from the tower for now. Time knew it was a bad idea to trust him with anything important. Lonnie knew it was a bad idea to trust himself with anything important. It was an unspoken agreement they'd both reached after Lonnie tried to hide his mistakes rather than talk to his creator.

 None of the words Lonnie came up with felt good enough to fix the gap in trust he'd made. Distance was the only option he could think of right now. Time had already drawn back. It was time for him to do so as well. There was more to him than Time. He was created from more than just the flow of seconds and hours. He was part of nature and part of the planet. If he couldn't be trusted to help Time, he'd find his own place in the world and help it as best as he could. That's what he repeated as he sat on the boulder and stared out at bare ground that stretched out past the limits of his vision. He'd messed up, he deserved this, he would deal with it and he would make the best of it.

 Sure, he wasn't like the other two anymore. That was alright. All three of them were different people. It made sense that they'd each follow a different path. It was ok, it was alright. Lonnie pressed his face against his knees and waited for the feeling to return to his limbs. They were heavy and tight, as if he was made of metal and not organic tissue. He would get through this feeling. It would lessen as each day passed. He had to move forward and not let the cold dread wrap around his heart and pull him down.

 He had a purpose. Everyone could have a purpose if they looked for one. He had talents and abilities he could use. Energy pulsed in his hands and he flinched. Not yet, he thought, no, no, don't do that yet, don't act without thinking, don't do that again. The memories of his hasty choices were burned in his mind. He couldn't let himself act without thinking so soon after he hurt Time like that. He could learn from his mistakes. The energy pooled back into his hands and sent a warm tingle through his body as he reabsorbed his power.

 What could he do? What would help the world? Lonnie's antennae curled up and he squeezed his eyes shut. Every time he asked himself that, he came up with blanks. Nothing popped into his head as a good alternative to helping Time. Nothing could replace what he was meant to do. Nothing felt right and nothing fit in his heart or mind. He couldn't do this. He couldn't make a new job for himself. He failed to do the most basic thing asked of him. He failed to assist the being that created him. He couldn't do the one thing that was expected of him. Stupid, stupid, stupid! His head banged against his knees with each word he thought.

 Why'd he have to take the Time Flute? Just because Time made it to keep track of him didn't mean he had a right to play with it when he wanted. The other assistants wouldn't have done something dumb like that. Victini always worked hard and followed the rules, and Deoxys liked to have fun, but always knew when to stop and listen. So, how come he was so dumb when the others were so good? He wanted to be useful and smart like them, but, he always made bad choices.

 He rolled onto his side, curled into a tight ball. It was pointless to think through his problems while he was in this state. His eyes burned and he pressed his hands against them. He'd never felt this sensation before. He had never felt his eyes leak or his insides curl up tight into a knot. It was new and it was terrible and, no matter how much Lonnie wanted to give into the feelings in him and ride them out until he couldn't feel them anymore, he couldn't bring himself to do that. He needed self control. He needed to keep himself in line. Nobody else would do it for him, nobody else was here to look after him anymore, it was just him, just Lonnie, just the celebi, out in the wilds with no grounding and no idea what he should do with himself.

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Vast

My hands wrap around the leather collar. It's not tight, but it bothers me. I do not wear anything on my neck, I don't, and I want it off. It's my fault it's here, marking me as a thing, but, I'm scared. I can't think right. I want to see the vast world, but I don't want to see it like this. I am scared. My heart pounds in my chest and I pull my ears down to block as much sound as I can.

The collar brushes against my neck. I can hold my ears or my collar, but I cannot hold both. The people around me stir from their sleep. They groan and one of the littlest ones sniffs. The memory of him crying last night jumps to mind and I cringe. I'm already apprehensive of the noise this day offers. I keep my hands on my ears and I wonder where I could have been if I just stay put a week ago. I shut my eyes and imagine myself sitting in the grass next to Rupert. I imagine Dad setting down his bag and pulling out one of his masks to tell us a story.

Why did I want to see the gully so bad? Do I deserve to be here in chains?

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Mighty

No one is as mighty as me. Or, wait, no, that might be an exaggeration. Mighty isn't quite the word, but, I like it better than lucky. What do you think of when you hear there's a lucky person running around? You think about that dumbass who you know's about to get his head cut off by his own sword because he hasn't bothered to sheath the thing before running around doing all his fancy wall running tricks. Not speaking from personal experience of acquaintances, just saying it how it is.

But, yeah, I mean, I've heard some people try calling me lucky, but, no, no, there's more substance to what I do than luck. I think of it as might. As in, I might be able to figure out how to get out of this dumb swamp, or, I might be able to help this strange mythical beast make a friend. All in all, there's no doubt about it. I'm a mighty person.

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Cold

He was cold and his arms felt like lead. Salt crusted his hair and eyelashes. The night before was a blur. Everything hurt. He groaned and tried to sit up, but the pain wracked his body before he got his head off the ground. He managed a feeble grunt of pain before his head fell back against the ground.

The faintest memories from the past night flickered at the edge of his memory. He grit his teeth. It didn't come to him. He couldn't pick the pieces up. He couldn't even sit up at the moment. He couldn't try right now. As much as it frustrated him, he had to give up and resign himself to the cold, wet present he now existed in.