#pkmnsdarkqueen

[badmusejail]

@pkmnsdarkqueen continued from the drabble

“I wouldn’t say now that Will and I are any form of god. Just humans with a connection to something powerful.”

She hummed propping her head on her hands after setting her elbows on the warm wood of the table. Her eyes kept staring out the window beside her. There was a fixation on the people as they went by. Just humans. She much preferred to be just human and to be seen as such.

“Even my title as an elite I grow tired off. It elevates me, or people perceive I am elevated despite truly doing nothing to earn such a status besides strength. Anyone can accomplish strength with enough hard work.”

The counter made for her own statement. Refocusing on the person in front of her she still wasn’t sure how they found out about Ho-oh, which scared her. That emotion though could not be portrayed, and would not be in her generally still face. Her eyes were careful to hide every reaction.

“When Will and I were kids we saw ourselves as something beyond human. It was fun to, but wouldn’t any child given so much power. Back then we were intent on finding a way to rule, maybe into lean into the region's obsession with the past to exalt ourselves to a deific state of being. The humbling though came soon after we realized how terrible Pryce was.”

“It’s interesting,” he murmured quietly.  He himself didn’t want to maintain eye contact--but, then again, didn’t he always?  Fingers fidgeting at the table, hat shadowing his (shockingly sober) gaze; nothing more than a washed out trainer.  “What even is a God?  Can a human be a God?  Can a Pokémon be a God?  I personally feel much safer saying they’re entirely separate.”

Quietly, he disagreed with the sentiment that anyone could achieve strength.  It was the sort of optimistic, childish idea that sounded perfect in theory, but sadly didn’t hold up.  Some people simply couldn’t.  Some people simply weren’t cut out to be trainers.  Some people simply lacked the physical ability to be strong.

Why?  (Well, that’s why people started believing in Gods in the first place, isn’t it?)

“I used to have a friend that believed in the creation myths in Sinnoh...or, I suppose, maybe believe is too strong.  More like cautiously optimistic.”  There was a chuckle, heavy with sadness as he flattened his hands against the table.  

“Personally...I’m not inclined to think anything that we can define to be a Pokemon could also be a God.  But it’s rude to disregard others’ beliefs.”

He shook his head.  He was off topic, wasn’t he?

“I suppose...  God or not, otherwise or not...all that matters is that if you have power, what will you do with it?  Will you make a difference?  Can you make a difference?

“Honestly, I’m not sure which is worse.  To lack the power and yearn desperately for it, or to have the power but still fail to make a difference.”  A grimace, cutting too close to home there.  

“But, it’s dangerous...so dangerous.  Why should you be expected to put yourself out for the sake of others?  It isn’t fair, is it?”

[psychic-master-will]

@dragoncaper​ @pkmnsdarkqueen​

Their dynamic in a nutshell.

[vivalavillain]

@pkmnsdarkqueen answered your ask:

The bitterness that cut through his teeth had a way of gaining her attention. Unable to invite him to her home due to circumstances she had begun to allow him into the bar, going so far as to invite him to the upper level where it was more home than business. A place she liked to escape to where they could sit across from each other on couches, or in the current case Karen could make them both simple drinks while he cursed.

Her fingers lingered on the rim of the cup as he snapped at her. He knew how to snarl, and bare his fangs. Something she didn't do often these days, but for a moment she felt her lip twitch aching to snap back.

Today her patience was thin after hours of dealing with other people.

"Don't put words in my mouth."

She directed turning back around with two mugs. One of coffee, and the other with tea. The mixing aromas causing both the sweet scent of coffee to mingle with tart berry. The smell contrasting in the same way the two stood on opposing sides of the kitchen.

"You know for a fact I won't go kissing your boots, I'll tell you how it is. Which at the current moment is facing the reality Rocket isn't what it was. If you want it there, you need patience."

The woman reminded walking closer to him even though he still bristled. From her there had never been fear towards him. A feat considering his role. Perhaps some would call it arrogance, a lack of common sense, and there was some truth in it. Though also came her comfortability with the man that she handed the coffee over to.

He scoffed at her dismissal and rolled his eyes, collapsing back into the couch where he sat. He didn’t want to hear this. He didn’t want to dwell on the truth, much as he needed to hear it. He wanted to rail, to lash out, to put an end to the one responsible for the struggles he was suffering at that moment. Because to listen to her, to look at the real reasons behind his struggles, was to admit something to himself he would rather die than acknowledge: he had no idea what he was doing.

He’d thought it would be simple. He’d helped run Rocket for years at Giovanni’s side. He knew the ins and outs of leadership, even if he’d never tasted its sting. It had seemed easy enough to organize the great exodus from Kanto, to find new roots in their neighboring region, and set up shop as though they’d never suffered the losses they had. But between the sharp decline in loyalty since Giovanni abandoned them, the steep cost of just getting everyone the proper paperwork to travel, and the incredibly limited space Johto had to offer, he found himself barely able to keep the lights on in the rinky-dink base they’d put together in the Goldenrod underground.

His fingers curled into a fist that he pressed sharply into his hip, something to keep his mind focused on that wasn’t their current topic of conversation. It helped, but only a little. He looked up as she offered the cup of coffee and he huffed, trying not to let his rage spill any further over onto their meeting. He was fortunate-- beyond fortunate, really-- to have someone like her in his circle, even as he was loath to admit it. He leaned forward, took the cup from its saucer, and took a sip from it, letting the liquid burn his tongue and clear his thoughts from rage to a milder frustration.

“It’s taking too long. If it goes on like this much longer, I won’t have to worry about these problems anymore if only because I’ll lose what fragile hold I have on their loyalty now. I need more time but I don’t know where to find it.” He put his cup down a little harder than he ought. “If only he hadn’t left so much in his wake.”

[iruludavare]

Honesty hour: how are you honestly recovering from the trauma you went through with the weapon?

Honest hour || Not accepting @pkmnsdarkqueen

    The question is simple, straightforward, yet it sits upon her shoulders in a way that threatens to consume the heroine whole. Bony, long fingers digging into the skin, claws latching onto muscle, forcing Serena to sitter a little straighter, but never taller. Another hand manifests from nothing to wrap around features pale and slightly translucent under harsh, white light, stifling what sounds poise themselves at the tip of her tongue. The same one that, perhaps on another day, would point into the corners of lips and drag them upwards until they stayed put; that would seize her jaw and push out the words ‘I’m doing okay’. A set of words heartless and cruel, as memories from the deepest parts of her mind are dragged forward, bound in chains and shadows.

    No sounds interrupt the gap between question and response, yet she hears screams. Piercing, guttural, raw. Of those wounded, and those bearing witness to it all. The scent of dirt and iron and smoke and wood fills the young woman’s nose—a stench that pools in the back of her throat; a blockade, a failsafe, for what keeps the blonde silent. Each scene, each scent, each sound broken apart temporarily by the blinking of grey eyes.

    Trauma. Serena would not call it that. What right has she, to experience such things? With a heartbeat and lungs filling with air, how could the heroine possibly call it that? They are memories—reminders of her mistakes and the pain she had failed to stop. A time when the world was close to ending, yet she had not the courage to throw a single punch of her own. To admit that she balances upon her shoulders such things would mean to admit that something is wrong—with her; with her ability to push forward. That she, still blessed to be alive, bears scars that the dead might yearn to accept as a cost to continue living.

    It would be useless to argue that part of her heart does not live in the past. She stands, a woman in the present, but a girl in the past. Sometimes feeling the wind in her hair or sunshine upon skin, and other times not. Shivering from the cold on one day, and from emotions driving tear-stained cheeks the next. Yet it is no less than what Serena deserves, or so she tells herself. To be unscathed would be an insult, but to acknowledge she is wounded would be selfish. Instead, the blonde hoists it up onto her shoulders, and anchors herself to the ground, letting it dig into the earth and pull strides to a stop when it feels necessary.

    Just like now.

    And although not a single word escapes from her lips, the look hidden among shining eyes screams one thing:

         ‘Not well,’

[multiverse-muses]

“  you think I’m so clumsy that I need someone to watch over me ?  ” (for Leon)

“That’s not it at all, from what I’ve heard you’re actually far less clumsy than I am. I was just taking a break since I have a few things to take care of nearby and I noticed you so I came to greet you. I may not be the champion of the region anymore but as a trainer it’d be remiss of me not to do so.”

@pkmnsdarkqueen

[chaserainbows]

🔥

Send me a “ 🔥 “ for an unpopular opinion.

Ultimately everyone's free to do whatever they want with their headcanons but I think Pokemas is one of the worst games (if not the worst) in the series to pull lore from

The main reason for that is that Pokemas is a gacha, so the content there is meant to make money first and make sense a very distant second. There are a few cases where both goals align (goth Cynthia being PLA foreshadowing for example), but for the most part it has all the basic trappings of a gacha (characters having to stay at their most recognizable state and never growing out of it to push sales, meaning that any development they had in canon never gets explored, and most pieces of characterization being pulled from popular headcanons rather than canon because people are more likely to buy things they already like) so the lore there is very superficial and doesn't make much sense like

THE VILLAINS FUCKING SUCK THERE HUH

This is more of a matter of personal taste but you guys already know how much I loathe the Sycamore unit since his Pokémon being Xerneas and the release date being Valentine's Day making him pretty much revolve around a ship that I hate but there's also Maxie and Archie who get redeemed in literally every canon they're in but then go right back to being evil because that's how they're more memorable or Cyrus who would MAKE SENSE as being unredeemed and going right back to being evil the first chance he gets having every other character that sees him going "oh but he's so sad :( we need to understand him" because the fandom idea of Cyrus is sad pathetic hermit and massively downplays all the things that make him interesting

And Lusamine gets the waifu treatment a g a i n

So I basically treat it on the same level as fanfiction

[invictarre-archive]

@pkmnsdarkqueen​ asked: How does Leon feel about Rose turning himself in?

He thinks it was a necessary action, and something that at least brought closure to the people he hurt in Galar. Leon has no desire to see him ever again or hear his justifications behind why he did what he did, and he’ll continue to hate him for the rest of his life.

Regardless of Rose’s reasoning or attempts at apology (not that Leon’s expecting to get one), he can never undo all the pain that was caused. The betrayal, the identity crises, the scars, the emotional meltdown that had been ten years in the making... Rose can’t take any of that back. Those are Leon’s weights to carry, and every reminder of them is a reminder that he can never forgive the cause of them.

[gnzma]

@pkmnsdarkqueen​:

"Ya know I'd happy to just chat instead of trying to throw blows at each other."

“Lady? You’re the one who punched me first?? The fuck???”