Morty has fallen victim to his own guilt, and chose to drown the sorrows away with alcohol.
Lance, where was his man anyway? Definetely nowhere to be seen in the bar. In fact he was one of the very few remaining souls found in that place- and it was obvious, that he has had way more than he could handle.
The blond was agitated- speaking loud and in a slurred tone. As he kept aimlessly try to argue with the bar tender to give him yet more alcohol- it eventually led him to give up on it, at the cost of him just slowly slide donwwards from the bar’s counter- until he was sitting on the floor.
There were tears running down the man’s cheeks, he sulked so loudly as well. Essentially creating a scene.
So, there is someone who really went and snagged his Mega Stone, right under his nose, and replaced it with a decoy, a mockery, just to spoil his appeal, just to mess with him, just to make him feel that he is not a trainer worth of belonging with the best of the best.
Grimsley held the fake Absolite in his shaky hand, trembling not from sadness, nor from fear, but from pure, fiery and untamed rage. His face was red, and he gritted his teeth, now forgetting about hiding his dreaded fangs. In the eye of the storm, a memory that was once thought to be gone resurfaced, preventing the enraged elite from blowing up, at least for now.
A young Grimsley, all dirty and with his arms and legs scrapped, arrived at his family’s mansion. His face was red from anger, and his eyes were swollen, teary. The first, and only one who noticed the child was his mother, who frantically ran up to him.
|| Grimsley! What happened to you?! Did you fall again? Tell me! ||
Quiet, as always. Young Grimsley rarely spoke, and in the very few times that he did, almost always was with his mother, the only person that he could trust, and the only one who seemed to love him.
Avoiding eye contact, the boy rubbed his eyes, trying his best to not cry. Despite his mother teaching him that crying is fine and natural, there was always someone who told him otherwise, his father.
““.............................”“
““.............The boys...........said I could finally play with them........but-but, they...........pushed me around..........shoved me, kicked dirt on me, slapped my ears, and......AND.......they said..........that I don’t deserve to play, with anyone.....that I am just an annoying kid who-who will always be a rag doll, who’s only here to be thrown around for their own fun!! ““
The young boy burst in tears, and his mother went to hug him tight. It wasn’t uncommon for Grimsley to come back with bruises or crying from being bullied, but this time was different. Her son not only came back from being hurt physically by the other kids, he was also told that he is less than them, that he exists solely for the purpose to be pushed around, for people to take advantage of him.
Maybe it’s time for them to have a different kind of conversation.
|| ....Grimsley. Look at me for a bit.
Do you remember, when I said that you shouldn’t pick a fight against these boys who keeps tormenting you? That you should always choose the pacific route?
Well......I was wrong.
Life, life can, and will be cruel. Life will push you down, will throw dirt on your face, and take advantage of you. These boys pick on you because you are sweet and kind, unlike them, who are rough and mean, so they see you as weak.
You are far from being weak, my son, but.....that’s why....you must not let anyone take advantage of you because of your kindness. Life teaches us how to harden, so we can protect ourselves. It doesn’t mean that you must close your heart shut, just open it to someone whom you can trust.
You are my precious and kind boy, and that’s why I hate to see you like this, all bruised and hurt! So, please, Grimsley, promise me that you will be strong, that you will not allow ANYONE take advantage of you ever again! ||
Young Grimsley, soothed by his mother’s stern, but benevolent words, wiped his tears, and looked at her in the eyes.
““ .....I promise, mama. I promise that I will be strong to defend myself, and you! ““
|| ....That’s my boy. That’s my special boy. Now let’s clean these wounds.~ ||
How....how could he forget that? It was such an important teaching, and by his sweet mother! Tears began streaming down his face as he felt like the world’s worst son. He really didn’t keep the promise he made to his mother, since what happened at his appeal, plus other events in the past proved it, where people would constantly fool him or take advantage of his timid, naive and even romantic nature.
No more.
The hand that was holding the fake Absolite threw the cheap marble stone away, the strength making it shatter, even. The previous tears quickly evaporated under his red hot skin, and now, the dark elite got up, with a new resolution. Forget being kinder with himself, something frigid took over his heart.
This is the last fucking time anyone will make a fool of me.
school has just been kicking my ass lately…………i just feel too overwhelmed to do anything other than meta. this is especially because i think i’m suffering from event burnout; i started in love with disaster merely a week after my previous event--the all hallows’ faire--ended, not to mention participated in the reborn region contest, so i think i need to give myself some space. the only IC thing i even remotely want to do rn is a drabble about the aftermath of the chair incident. expect me to return on sunday.
Kenny walked backstage after his perfect score of a performance, as well as maxing out his bonus. Although, none of his fellow competitors looked impressed. He couldn’t honestly expect anything different, but it’s not like he believed none of them didn’t have their own dirty secrets in the competition. They’re just jealous that he was in first and didn’t think of a brilliant bribe like his to get himself said perfect score.
“Why the long faces, guys? I just followed the rules.” He said holding up his clipboard. “Maybe if you followed the scoring procedure better, you too could’ve gotten perfect scores.”
“...Of course we can.” Oh there was an anger, a rage bubbling in her, but she kept her tone perfectly soft and even. After all, Fabien wasn’t the one that anger was aimed at. “Come on, let’s go.”
She couldn’t get to the true source of her anger right now, but keeping the paparazzi of her brother would serve as an ample substitute, handled by flipping them the bird with her free hand behind her back as they walked away. They could all wait.
Out. Out into the fresh air, away from as many people as possible. When they reached an area of sufficient solitude, Jules led him over to the base of a large tree, tucked well out of view, and took a seat. While she didn’t pull him down, she gently tugged at the hem of his sleeve in hopes he might get the message. If Fabien didn’t want to...well, that was completely fair and she wasn’t about to force him. But she had a soft lap and a welcome heart, both ready to do anything-even if it was just being there for him.
“Oh, Fabien, your appeal was fantastic! I understand now why you didn’t want to spoil anything!”
{Compliments weren’t a rare thing for Acerola to hand out, but to receive such gushing praise...the man had genuinely impressed her with his work! With a warm grin, she clasps her hands together excitedly and looks up at him, approval beaming across her face.}
“You know, I’m really not one for romance, but I can’t help but feel amazed! I've never really thought about using a pokemon’s moves like that before! Contests really are something unique...”
“Tell me, though...how did a prince become a servant? It wasn’t just dedication to the act, was it?”
