#firewhiteshipping

[salifidae]

🎄

[wishfuldreamspkmn]

Hi! I was wondering if I could reserve Kyouhei? uvu

Hello there! Of course! Mr. Bedhead will be reserved for you until July 19th.

[kalosiangrace]

✉ ☾

✉:Any RPers the Mun admires.

you tbh, mentisperfxction, dresseur... gods i could go on for e v e r i admire p much everyone ;a;

☾:Favorite moment from your Muse's canon, and why. (If your Muse is an OC, then favorite aspect of their story.)

uhHHH GOD THERE ARE SO MANY probably geosenge tbh. just because she has to be braver than shes ever been no matter how scared she probably was. it was then she realized she had a duty to protect kalos and thats a huge part of her character now tbh

or when she becomes champion and gets her parade because she realizes shes got so much responsibility and ahh

[guesswhomovedlmao-blog]

mozi

[lilycove-cities]

and you're bringing me down - nate, hilda

(part one, read on ao3.)

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.

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“Give me a light, would you?”

Nate doesn’t smoke. She knows that.

That doesn’t stop him from fishing through his messenger bag, looking for a stray match, maybe something left over from his last campout in Lacunosa Town. His fingers brush against a splint of wood, red-tipped and menacing. He takes it out, offers it to her on his open palm. She takes it, scratches his hand with her red talons, and lights it with her teeth.

He didn’t even know that was possible. Anything was possible, anything was feasible when you were with White. You could defy the laws of the universe, bring the forces that be to their knees when you were with enigmatic, tragic White.

“Thanks.” She says, all business like and curt, she puffs out smoke circles, watches them waft towards the dark-haired boy, watches him cough loudly and throw her a scathing glare. “Nate-Nate, how have you been?”

White’s high-pitched lilt, in all of its saccharine glory, is an obvious mockery of Rosa’s soprano. She leans forward, bends over the balcony fence, lets her chestnut curls down and lets them fly with the Castelian breeze. Her fingers clutch the iron railing, they’re blue from the cold.

Nate does not respond to her query, or her state of undress. She should know by now that Unovan winters are bitter, they’re cold and calculating and cruel. They are unforgiving.

They are a lot like her.

“This region’s not big enough for the four of us, Hilda.”

She ignores her given name, and ignores his statement. Instead, she laughs and gives him a long, long stare. She’s pressing him to say more, oh, why do you think that, Nate-Nate?

“You scared of Little Red Riding Hood?”

The boy laughs, because he is a boy in her presence, a stupid little kid.

She’s only two years older than him.

He bites back a less than courteous insult, and shoves his gloved hands into his pockets, he takes three steps back. The wind hits him, and Nate’s hatred for the city grows stronger with every shiver and shudder. He rubs his sides, and grimaces.

“I’m not scared of you.”

With his chattering teeth and shaking voice, he does not convince her.

“Maybe you’re right,” she says after a long pause, a stretch of time, just long enough for the city lights to flicker on, and for the ships in the sea to head back to their ports, loud horns piercing the otherwise quiet night. “Maybe it is too small for all of us.”

Nate hopes she decides to pack and leave. Nate hopes that she disappears, just like she did two years prior. That would be for the best, he thinks, arms crossed over his chest, back to her back. White stretches, raises her arms to the sky, blue jacket sleeves fall past her elbows, and then return to their rightful place when she tucks her hands into her shorts pockets. She hums a jaunty tune before turning on her heel, and walking past the dark-haired boy. Her hand finds his shoulder, she makes him look at her. Nate gulps, something pathetic and childish all the same, because he, better than most, knows that she always gets her way. Why bother trying.

He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, and they’re eye-to-eye, her head tilts forward, because she always looks down on her favorite subjects.

Her ringed hand cups his cheek, he feels pinpricks of heat against his skin, whatever warmth was left in her, she was giving to him.

Nate finds it awfully, awfully symbolic.

“You’re so warm, Nate-Nate. Stay like that, all right?”

The turn of events makes him flinch. Her hand goes through her pink purse, and out comes a small pokéball, dented and used and full of history. He will never understand her, he thinks as she disappears into the night, a cloud over erasing any trace of her existence.

He can still hear her braviary’s cry on the north wind. He ignores it, and heads back to the pokémon center, with the intention of scrubbing the smell of nicotine from his skin.

[electric-firefly]

"I can definitely make you happier than a guy who left you alone for 2 years, Touko-senpai!"

By トイ

[novanoah]

So, I did this in response to this pic *diesoffeels* that Mivvu did for my anon doodle prompt =uo; I feel bad asking for something like that and giving nothing in return, so I did this according to what I think Mivvu likes oOo//

Apart. This is my headcanon with Kyouhei and Touko as battle partners, both with Tepig as starter pokemon. They would meet in someplace (tba) and their Tepig would become great friends, and so will Kyouhei and Touko later. After some time will meet again and do some journeys together.

Hope you like it oOo~♥

[ourhandsheldtight]

firewhiteshipping. 609 words.

She's a total babe.

He watches from his perch in his tree, his Lucario settled by his side, as she steps off of her white dragon - Reshiram, he remembers - to take a look around the area. He draws his legs up before she has a chance to spot him, and presses his fingers to his lips.

His Lucario stares at him for a moment, then nods.

When she turns away from him, guiding her dragon along with a careful hand, he quietly drops from the tree. His Lucario is quick to follow, and he raises a hand as he steps away from it.

"Hey there!"

She jerks around, and the words are already forming on her lips: "Reshiram, Blue Fla--"

"W-Wait! I didn't mean to scare you!" He raises his other one, as if to shield him from the bright blue flames already beginning to form on the dragon's maw. She hesitates, then touches Reshiram's feathers and steps forward.

"What's your name?" Her fingers drift to her waist; five full pokéballs rest against her hip, and she's evidently not here to waste time -- or, hopefully, him.

He takes no time in answering, stepping forward with a hand placing itself earnestly over his heart. "I'm Nate. You're Hilda, right?"

"Yes." Her voice is laden with suspicion; beside her, Reshiram draws itself up and growls. "How do you know it?"

"N told me." The name seems to wake something in her, because she drops all pretenses of being an incredibly cool and collected young woman to stomp over and grip his jacket tightly. His Lucario stiffens and readies to battle, but he waves him off quietly.

Nate notices he's taller than her by maybe half an inch, and he quietly thanks puberty for it and his deeper voice.

"You know him?" Her voice is barely above a whisper; Nate nods, not sure of how else to, and her grip slackens -- then tightens again. "How?"

"We ran into each other a few times while I was traveling. And I ride the Ferris Wheel in Nimbasa with him on Fridays."

Hilda lets him go, and Nate shuffles backwards to his Lucario, who immediately gives his aura a once over (it makes him tingle) and relaxes once he realizes his trainer isn't hurt. Hilda watches the two of them, then places her fists on her hips and sighs.

"Sorry for the rough treatment. I've been traveling alone for a few years." She pauses - hesitates? - and shakes her head. "It's nice to meet you, Nate. Did I scare you when I landed?"

"Nope," he completely and utterly lies. His Lucario watches him from the corner of his eye, and Nate glares at him. "You really didn't."

"Good. I'd hate to do that to a friend of..." She trails off, then frowns. "You are N's friend, right?"

He thinks of the Ferris Wheel. He thinks of the battles, changing every season. He thinks of walking through the hollow halls of the ruined castle that lay hidden beneath the Pokémon League, of the dark look that had crossed N's face at the sight of his toy room's door. How N had told him he was going to stay outside; how N had looked, relieved, for them to leave the vicinity of it once Nate was finished exploring.

How Zekrom rested in an ultra ball on his hip, entrusted to him by N himself.

"Yeah," he finally answers. "I am."