Shocking

ind. prv. Volkner / pokemon dppt. written by Fae

[electrivolt]

ʻ 𝐈 𝐰𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧, 𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐤𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞. ʼ:  ind. sel. blog, Volkner from Diamond/Pearl & Platinum, written by Fae ( 25+, they/them ), canon divergent with mixed canon of games, poke.mas and poke.spe.

please read rules & bio. headcanons, verses

sideblogs : brumahielo ( grusha ), shadcwtag ( allister )

mains : rockheadcd ( & roark exclusive!! ), zephyricd, dawnblazr, opstinatus, solaurous, dawnedon, darkbets

[rockheadcd]

Alright, maybe it was a stupid question, admittedly—of course he wouldn't know, nor probably care to remember at this point. Even with that, Volkner was diligently typing away with instructions, so at least there was the confidence that he held onto the important information ( or, maybe the coral did, who knows? ).

Still, that doesn't do much to cover up the twist in his expression when he sees the state of the other pilot, practically skin and bones with the augmentation the only thing that could he described as sturdy. The coral was probably handling much more than just his muscles and mental aptitude... Even the pale skin he touches on his shoulder feels colder than it should be, using it as leverage to push in the connectors into the ports that tap right into his spine. "Dude, you've got a cute face and all, but I'm gonna have to make meals for you. No wonder you're so tired all the time," he chastises, not particularly hearing the words he's saying to Volkner so much as he is vocalizing the concern he's been so suddenly plagued with. Even the coral burns under his skin wouldn't stand out so much if he had a little meat back on his bones. "I bet you're anemic with all that nothing." For emphasis, he proves he can fit each finger between his ribs, enough of an outline to pinpoint exactly where they are. "I think your augmentation is veering off because it's stuck trying to optimize your basic body functions, too..." Unfortunately, the visual example puts some truth behind those who boast about the newer generation augmentations. Maybe feeling less like an object keeps people's spirits up. The perception of being labeled barely human had lived up to it's standards... Roark's brows remain furrowed as he inserts the rest of the cables in, looking over his shoulder to verify each individual input registering on the diagnostics panel. Afterwards, he works on the sticky pads, examining the probes with interest. They certainly don't look comfortable to have on... but if the human part of a pilot isn't responsible for these kinds of signals, maybe the assumption here is that a pilot wouldn't feel it to begin with. He's not entirely convinced, but at least the contacts don't break skin. Touching the pointed tip, however, still doesn't feel very pleasant. Each one is applied to a muscle group on Volkner's arms, chest, neck, and shoulders. They remind him of a TENS unit—this is likely to check results of calibration...

Well, at least Volkner is there to break his drifting thoughts, smiling half-heartedly and shaking his head in return. "Don't sweat it. I'll help you out with anything, you just need to ask." Nothing could get more stress-inducing than this, right?

Once the tablet is handed back to him, Roark quietly reads through the notes, lining up with the program routines on the application in front of him. Everything has a nominal range, and so far, these calibrations are automated. There's a few notes underlined, mostly precautions, but otherwise, given the length of time it had been for Volkner, he needed the entire routine and then some. The discharge was the only real concern here, unsure of where, or if, Volkner would feel it— and more importantly, if this laptop had a limit on how much excess throughput it could handle. "Well. If you're ready, we'll get started then."

Only when Volkner agrees does he select the toggle for diagnostics mode, forcefully putting the augmented pilot into what could only be described as a power-saving mode, transitioning what little humanity he had left into a stasis as the coral remained active. Roark waits as the sensors start to track idle activity, and he catches the dim glow of the coral in his pupils, seemingly possessed like a puppet. Vitals are normal, a little elevated if anything, but otherwise he's stable, so at least that's a good sign. Roark fiddles with the visible data on the screen, checking the various electrical signals emitted from the hive that was contained in his augmentation. As expected, the average current was higher that it should have been, especially since Volkner hadn't been on nearly enough sorties to discharge the excess into his AC. The cooling system for their ACs could handle the kind of heat dissipation required when burning coral for energy, but a human could not in large doses—hell, most electronics couldn't. He clicks his tongue, examining other measurements taken—the surge did hit him by proxy of his AC, so... that must have also meant WILDVOLT had been saturated with excess coral, and the rest would be... ( oh, shit ) circulating in his body. Had it not been for the sorry state his physical body was in, maybe Volkner wouldn't have had much of a pleasant recovery from the worst of it.. after all, coral was more interested in occupying technology than it was humans. Actually... if this laptop had this program, then surely it was factored in, then, right? What's the external capacitor at—ah, empty. This must have been why. Things are beginning to make sense.

"Okay... first things first, we'll discharge the excess coral so that your augmentation is running in the nominal range. It looks like whatever wasn't free coral decided to stick around, so some of it needs go be purged. There's a big ol' capacitor bank in here that doubles for the post-calibration test, which uses coral to instigate and record response time... so, if I set the target current to the middle here... I should see..." as Roark narrates his actions, he selects a function to transfer some of the coral. Slowly, siphoning some out brought down the voltage, and in turn, the current as well. He can't help his surprise when the function actually works, soon taking up only half of the bank before ceasing the transfer. The visual tell is obvious, with Volkner's eyes dimmer than before in this standby state.

"Okay... I guess with that, we can actually start calibrating your augmentation," he sounds relieved, admittedly, soon referring to the notes he was given and the program in front of him. Each augmented sense had it's own procedure, implying the hyper-specific modifications made by the use of augmentation. There were muscle groups, of course, and then there was also the rather vague calibration that referenced certain parts of the brain. It was beyond his understanding, but at least it all lined up with the notes he had—executing them in order was key to minimize issues in latency between the groups of coral that worked each cog in the man machine. The process, at least, was relatively hands-off, assuming no catastrophic failures occurred. Now, there should be an ideal model to calibrate as close as possible to... ah, here, this dropdown has some options. Nominal, performance, longevity... A finger follows the text on the tablet, finding the closest description before selecting and executing the first calibration procedure. The fan on the toughbook kicks on, and another window pops up, recording the deviations on one side and the nominal values on the other ( now, call him a regular civilian, but some of these values are so off the norm that volkner shouldn't have been as stable as he appeared... ).

"It's starting with the main core driver in the cerebellum. You might feel some involuntary movement or lose some motor control for a bit," he says, watching the monitor like a hawk for any potential warnings that could come up. Even with the pool of fourth gens being larger than it's predecessors, there still must have been flaws in the design and application. Mechanical parts were easy, but... even if the human body is also just electrical signals like a computer, the very biological nature of it still wasn't well understood.. There had to be inexplicable variables that caused all of the issues pilots had to deal with, right?

( he goes back to the alleged loss of humanity tied to fourth generation again... maybe that was part of the "improvement" in a twisted way )

Burgundy follows the total completion displayed, the process in total taking around fifteen minutes total just for the one. Foreboding, sure, but given the values Volkner has presented thus far, it was probably generous for how long he'd gone without any calibration at all. Still, thankfully, the adjustment completes without issue, and Roark doesn't see anything strange happening when he glances over. Alright, onto the next one, then...

Each calibration takes about as long as the one before, taking nearly a whole two hours from this phase alone.. Roark's lower back is hurting, but it certainly couldn't have been any less comfortable than Volkner in his current state... He brings his arms up over his head, stretching and letting out a noise. Okay, break time is over. "Let's see... the readings are still stable, it looks like the coral is working just fine," he reports, clicking through the numerous charts that update in real time. No spikes, and the fluctuations he can see are minor and rhythmic. "I think the next phase is the internal testing? Yeah, it's a sanity check. You'll feel some reflexive movements with the coral reacting to specific signals. The whole suite is... um, over a hundred individual entries." Well... if this is as invasive of a procedure of what he understood of it, this might not even be fully comprehensive either, but... just to be safe, right?

"Starting now." Once he clicked the button to start, the various sensors that were also placed on Volkner are involved more actively, inducing a small current as Roark had surmised using the coral that was siphoned off of Volkner's excess. The tests roll through, triggering muscle groups one at a time, some more visible under the surface of his skin than others. Each output records the average response time for each unit, the grading scale an easy to read series of colors for pass or fail. Overall, it takes less time than the calibrations themselves, the long list rolling through. It certainly doesn't look comfortable to sit through, but... none of the tests have failed ( he's relieved, he wouldn't know what to do if there was a failure to try to fix ). Once completed, Roark does another review of the tests done, in awe of the raw number values on response time. This was coral augmentation at it's prime before the Fires of Ibis... and to think this could have been iterated again... could humans hold up to the wear and tear, or would humans have to embrace almost being entirely built from synthetic version of their bodies? It's an uncomfortable thought to consider, and Roark doesn't see much benefit, especially now that coral itself was outclassed in reliability with those newer generation augmentations. Why not just become as close to one's own prime before letting something else override your instincts, anyway...? It's none of his business at the end of the day—coral parts for ACs made more sense to him than it did in humans, anyway. There was no way he was going to understand the motivations of the research institute outside of maximizing pilot capabilities beyond what any average person could do. Any longer, an Volkner would probably find a way to speak to him, too.

Roark finally takes Volkner out of his powered down state, transitioning over to standby mode so that he could control his senses again. He gives him a minute to acclimate to his body, though he stares the entire time. After another beat, "So, how do you feel after all of that?"

[electrivolt]

Initially, Volkner doesn't really pay attention to Roark, far busier typing the instructions needed and making an effort to read them back just to make sure he hasn't written down anything that will get him killed in this process and give Roark at least a couple of nightmares for the foreseeable future. It's easy to keep his attention on the screen in front of him when he's not seeing the open concern on Roark's face, not even the effort to push in connectors enough to really distract him, far too used to the connection to his AC to even feel it anymore. It's not as easy when Roark finally does voice said concern, not quite putting together what's bothering him so much until the mention of anemia that does not quite sound like a joke. He knows he doesn't particularly look like the picture of health, but surely he's not doing that badly—

"It's not that bad— I try to remember to eat, that's what all the snacks around the core are for—" ... maybe not the best argument he could make for himself, but well. That's not the point right now. ( ... wait, did he say he has a cute face—? )

Regardless, that doesn't matter right now, just another discussion to file away for later— which, to be fair, is likely never or simply forgotten entirely, in Volkner's scattered mind. Right now, he needs to brace himself, the discomfort just more and more noticeable in tense muscles and and eyes pointedly avoiding all the probes that keep seemingly multiplying around him. It's fine, this is fine, he won't even know time passed, and by the end of it, he'll forget they even did this in the first place—

"Yeah... yeah, I'm ready." He doesn't feel ready, honestly, probably will never be, all too glad to conveniently forget about his augmentation's maintenance again for another couple years if Roark doesn't add it to his own calendar, but he can hardly back down now after making Roark go through all this effort, right? Ripping off the band-aid it is.

It looks exactly like powering off a piece of machinery, the augmented pilot going limp where he's sitting at the flip of a switch, eyes still open, coral instead of life shining through. Even his breathing is barely perceptible, rise and fall of his chest so subdued it takes some squinting to even notice it. It'd be scarily easy to think he's just died if it wasn't for the circumstances behind this kind of state.

It's all a blur from there, the uncomfortable, vague awareness that something is going on, but unable to go any further than that, unable to even be aware enough himself to make an effort to reach for the world surrounding him. Trapped in his own body, and yet in some sick kind of irony, so deep beneath the water he can't realize he's even there. It hardly counts as any kind of feeling, and it's still the most uncomfortable, unpleasant one he's ever had to sit through.

When it's finally over, it's like a flood, every little noise reverberating in his ears, light and colors back within his eyesight bright enough to hurt, the air now feeling too cold around him— he's alive again, and everything that entails. He jolts awake, half gasps, half tries to take a deep breath, eyes squeezed shut, jaw clenching just a little too tightly, grit teeth as he tries to instinctively lay back on the couch for a breather while his body still can't quite cooperate with him, movements jerky, stiff and awkward, his efforts to yank wires off failing before even being able to properly try. He's already feeling the beginnings of a headache at the back of his head, isn't he? Just what he needed!

( he doesn't remember it being this bad the last time he had any sort of maintenance... either he's gotten worse, or he was that good at repressing the memory from that first try. )

Roark's voice feels too loud, wincing when the words finally reach his ears, eyes squeezed just a little tighter for a moment. He doesn't respond immediately, deep breath after deep breath, trying to feel first like his already empty stomach isn't going to stay upside down, his hopes for the pain at the back of his mind to fade soon dwindling by the second. Well, at least it's a good thing he had enough foresight to avoid picking any sorties for the next day or two—

"Like shit." Finally, he manages to feel enough in control of his body to find where his vocal chords still are, a forced whisper to at least reassure Roark nothing went horribly wrong in the process. At least he's being truthful, even if it's only because he's not at all in the mood for the arguing that would ensue in downplaying the way he feels like crawling out of his own skin. He wants to ask how things are looking, what the results of the maintenance are, whether or not his augmentation is even falling apart in the first place, but— not immediately. Right now, he needs to feel like some kind of person again, and like he won't be throwing up all the nothing in his stomach first. It's not like his brain would really be able to understand any numbers or jargon right now, anyways!

( well, if roark isn't the one to remember he needs to do this a little more frequently than once every five years or so, volkner is sure he's quite happy with conveniently forgetting about it again. )

[selflit-doodles]

eepy

[reshiram]

PROPHET :     in the same way that sunflowers,     cut from the dark garden soil     &͟.     brought green-vased into the city market become part of the city,     so do you.     //      a private,     highly selective,     headcanon - based     &͟.      canon divergent blog dedicated to the narration of     N     of pokémon's black     &͟.     white     &͟.     black 2      +     white 2.     as puppeteered by touya since march 2025 !

ac :    ( 01. )   /   ( 02. )

[electrivolt]

// im playing poko.pia as a treat after period cramps i am having the most creative juices ive had in years i have d.nd tomorrow for a session that i know is gonna be incredibly fun. life can be nice sometimes actually im so chill rn this is nice

[electrivolt]

// mmmmh. i need to write. i need things to reply to

[electrivolt]

// i forgot to put this one here and ovan needs to reblog it. woe clowns be upon ye

[electrivolt]

// i just love ff.xiv so fucking much man

[electrivolt]

// THEY'RE PUTTING EVA IN MY XIV?!?!?!

[electrivolt]

// giggling kicking my feet abt dnd characters

[reshiram]

i hate to do this but i have no other means to get the money because i just started a new job and i won’t get paid for another two weeks and i can’t wait 2 more weeks to take my dog to the vet but. if you guys have known me long enough you know i have an insanely immunocompromised dog named bruce wayne, who is genuinely the love of my life and the dog i would consider my, ‘soul dog.’ he’s had just about everything and i’ve run myself ragged constantly taking him to the vet for things such as parvo, a bacterial infection, pneumonia, you name it and i will continue to take him at any cost but it’s become clear to me, as someone who is a vet tech and has seen it so many times, that he has MRSA, which is transmittable to humans too and as someone who is immunocompromised myself and has 9 other pets i need to have him diagnosed and treated as soon as possible.

i can pay for the treatment myself by applying for care credit at my local animal hospital because they offer it as a payment method AFTER treatment has been done and the pet is ready to go home which i’m prepared to owe the inevitable thousands of dollars for his care but i need to pay $300 up front to get him seen and diagnosed by an actual veterinarian.

which is why i wanted to make this post, to offer graphics in exchange for any amount of money, whether it be $1 or $100, i’ll make you anything. i would offer art but i take way too long and the anxiety of having people waiting on me genuinely kills me.

i don’t have many icon border examples because i tend to delete things off my pc after i’ve given them to the commissioner ( it’s an OCD thing ) but i do have these:

and if you don’t want an icon border/graphics/etc for yourself but would like to have them done as a gift for someone else we can arrange that.

i’m dropping my paypal here for anyone who would like to help, even 50 cents will help me tremendously while i try to scrounge up money through other means but if you do donate at all PLEASE let me know so i can make you something eventually as thanks.

here’s a photo of said dog and my most beloved baby for the dog tax:

[electrivolt]

// im so sorry about barely writing for shit the last few weeks d.&d has my braincell in a chokehold 😔

[electrivolt]

@rockheadcd asked : It's past 10 in the morning, with Roark not even hearing a rustle of blankets from the other room. He's on his second cup of coffee already and it's been dead silent, with the only living creatures that have come out are 'mons, yawning and hungry for breakfast. It's a house rule not to wake up Volkner in the morning if he's still asleep, of course, but even Growlithe didn't get him to do so much as a roll to his other side while Roark trudged out of bed to let her out.

Ah, he ought to go check on him, and maybe bring the delightful smell of roasted beans to him instead. There's a well-used mug his love picks up that Roark snatches, putting together the ungodly mix of mostly sugar, cream and a little syrup, then pouring in enough coffee for the rest of the remaining volume. Not scalding, but still warm enough to thaw out those demonic ice cold hands that have gone up his back far too many times already.

Lux stirs when Roark comes back to the bedroom, the cocoon of his love still hibernating, and he comes around to the side to set the coffee down and rest on the lump, content to sigh happily. The winter is the hardest time to get up, he understands, especially on this side of the region. He really can't blame him at all. A peek of blond indicates where Volkner's face is, and Roark carefully peels back some blanket layers to kiss him on the cheek, and again on the lips when he gets the opportunity. "Good morning, my favorite coma patient, ehe. Coffee is on the nightstand."

Slowly yet steadily, Volkner was finally managing to get used to some more or less normal and expected amount of sleep. Yes, there were still many sleepless nights in between, and maybe going to bed at what other people may consider a reasonable hour was still a bit much to ask of him, but he's sleeping more, waking up more rested in the morning, even finding himself having some proper energy to get through the day. It's still a surprise from time to time, if he thinks about it for a little too long, just how much better he's doing lately, how he never expected to get this far, to have a life he would even consider good.

Better doesn't necessarily mean he's waking up any earlier, though, less so in the middle of the freezing cold of the winter season, when Oreburgh would regularly get covered in more snow than Volkner had ever wanted to see in his life. And could anyone blame him? Tucked into such a cozy, warm cocoon of blankets, in a bed already warmed up by his lovely furnace of a man, with his beloved cat adding to the pile of warmth? Frankly, it's more of a surprise to see him frequently enough be waking up still in the middle of the morning rather than sleeping the entire day away in the bliss of comfort.

Doesn't mean he didn't need help to return to the waking world, from time to time.

The newfound weight and twinge of cold nipping at his face when a layer of protection is peeled back a little are the first things to start tugging at him. Then comes a familiar, wonderfully sweet scent, tickling his nose with the temptation of sugar so early in the day, already enough to ensure he's not slipping back into the deepest of sleep. The gentle affection, however, is what finally makes him stir, a muffled grumble and unintelligible words pressed into the pillow before he finally cracks an eye open, just a sliver trying to get used to the light once again before the mop of red hair and warm eyes come into focus. That's when Volkner is finally awake, enough to feel a faint smile on his lips when they meet Roark's, a yawn hidden behind his hand the moment his lips are free, the other hand rubbing the remains of sleep from his eyes to finally focus on his love. ( his favorite sight to wake up to. )

"Mornin'... it is still morning, right...?" He just needs to be sure. Finally, when he's free from his love's weight, Volkner reluctantly pushes some of the many layers of blankets just out of the way enough to sit up in bed, lazily stretching and only now truly registering the mug waiting for him on the nightstand. "I love you so damn much—" and that's all he really says before reaching for the beverage, cold hands greedily taking in the heat while he takes a sip, already feeling more or less awake and ready to start the day— but only after he sneaks in one more kiss. It's necessary payment for such services! "What would I do without you?"

( he knows the answer, if truth was required, and— he's just happier actually having roark in his life. really, how did he ever end up earning this? )

[electrivolt]

@opstinatus asked : places cannoli on his head. that’s it. nothing to say; simply zorua teetering precariously on volkner’s head.

It's a rare moment of true rest, Volkner taking the day to just... actually relax, lay down and breathe in between busy days and darker ones. Maybe Roark is right in saying he needs to take it easier and maybe even remember to eat some more from time to time, but— you will certainly not catch him admitting that.

So an easy day it is, stealing Roark's switch and settling down on the couch to happily rot, some snacks and drink temporarily forgotten on the coffee table and Lux quite content settling by his legs. Just him and an afternoon of overhauling Roark's entire island, one of those small things in life to enjoy.

Well. It was supposed to be just him and his sleeping feline. A newfound weight carefully placed on his head, and Volkner blinks, glances up as much as he can and— ah. He knows those little paws. Maybe he should've seen this coming. ( she's not about to attack his face for this, right? right...? )

"... Does our majesty have opinions on the state of Roark's island and his decoration skills?" Well, if they both are here, might as well get a helping hand in his task, right? Perhaps an all hands on deck moment, if he's trapped here like this now. Sometimes it's just like that.

( mentally, he's already kissing goodbye to any snacks he had conveniently left within reach for himself to grab. he should've known better, that's on him, really. )

[electrivolt]

@solaurous asked : His colors were all messed up, torn in places or threading towards another soul ; their shade bleeding into his --- creating a loud buzzing creation that has him frozen in place. Horror written all over face. What did he go through to have such a mangled soul? " --- roark never mentioned that you'd stop by today. How can this old man help you?" He tried to joke, voice on the edge though. He wanted to ask but how would you even begin to explain your powers & what you saw ? He's never seen anything like that before, that's for sure.

It seemed like a logical, rational idea, the moment it came to him. Volkner's own knowledge and specialization only extends to electric types, and while he does have cursory knowledge of other types ( rock types above others, not at all due to a certain someone— ), for some he felt a little more lacking than others. Why not ask the one guy he knows to favor this particular 'mon above others, then?

"Sorry, didn't mean to intrude— just thought you'd be able to tell me a little more about lucario now that I have the time to ask... just wanna make sure I'm taking care of Aura correctly and all that." Not that the lucario wouldn't make his displeasure known if anything was actually wrong, and after seeing him evolve from a runt of a riolu it's hard to deny the bond between 'mon and trainer, but... it never hurts to be really sure, right?

"So..." his words trail off, quiet in the face of Riley's forced facade of serenity, an eyebrow raised and a tilt of his head. Volkner may look like the loner type, and that's not entirely incorrect as an assessment to make about him, but— that doesn't mean he hasn't learned how to read people, how to pick up on those little cues of something hiding. Something isn't quite right. "... Are you okay? You're... kinda pale." He knows Riley is not okay, it's blatant, alarms already going off in his head. "Do I need to call someone?" He'd rather not have to go back to Roark just to tell him his uncle is suddenly in the hospital or something, thank you very much!

[electrivolt]

// made art for his spoofy playlist cover. posts this and leaves

[electrivolt]

// CON DAY HAS BEEN SURVIVED.......