Event Eiscue's Exciting Exchange Exposed!

[Beth Pavell]

The fics are in, the pens are set down, and it's the time all you authors have been waiting for. Let's see what we've got ...

Contents
Siblings, from @Jewel the Quaxly to @Cavespider_17
Take Charge, Bulbasaur! from Cavespider_17 to Jewel the Quaxly
Five Christmases from @Pick_6 to @Kyrî
No Matter How Far Apart We Are from Cavespider_17 to @Mialentia
Somebody stop me im smoking the track from @Welkamo to @Minnachu
Doubt, Friendship and Legacy from Mialentia to Pick_6

 

[Beth Pavell]

CONTENT WARNINGS: Strong language
Rated TEEN

Siblings​

The sky was pitch black, blanketed in thick, dark rainclouds that stormed down relentlessly on the Kalos region without abandon. It was the worst storm the Kalos region had ever seen in decades. Rain barrelled down on the landscape, frightening Pokémon all throughout the region, sending them into hiding in their homes. The temperature was close to freezing, and the brief bouts of hail that would throttle whatever unsuspecting Pokémon that dared to trek outside were a surefire way to prevent anyone from coming out of their homes for as long as possible.

It was a lucky thing, then, that the Kalos region was abundant with resourceful Pokémon of all types. The water types, naturally, found it easy to navigate through the treacherous storm. The ground types remained hidden for as long as possible, many of whom found little issue with remaining in their burrows for extended periods of time. The dragon types, powerful yet often silent, either helped the weak or remained as isolated as they were before the storm made its grand debut. The fairy-type Pokémon of Kalos were hardly anywhere to be seen. Unfortunate, since the healing abilities of fairy types were well beyond those of Pokémon from any other type.

There were rumors that the storm wasn’t natural, but it was all bullshit. He wasn’t that delusional.

Either way, the lack of assistance from the fairy types was telling.

Ruminating on all these thoughts was a single Lucario, dredging up the frigid mountains, shrouded in a brown cloak with a single brown satchel to his name, and who, for all his battle-hardened gaze may have indicated, was not prepared for how arduous his trek thus far had been.

It got harder when he lost his umbrella. He spent a damn fortune on that thing, especially when the klefki salesmon had insisted on how helpful its coverage would be when trekking up the mountain. It had “special properties” like a shield that would significantly diminish the amount of rainwater that would get on him.

Lucario stomped into a puddle, gritting his teeth. ‘Yeah, bullshit. Got scammed out of all I had for a worthless hunk of junk. Dammit…’

And of course it was by a fairy type. Granted, she was dual-typed, not a pure-Fairy, but somehow that just made it worse, since she, much like Lucario, was a part steel type.
‘They’re all the goddamn same.’

A loud crash of thunder prompted him to look up at the sky, searching for any signs of lightning. He couldn’t see any, so either the lightning wasn’t close by and therefore not a concern for him, or he was just steadily getting worse and worse with his spatial awareness skills.
Father wouldn’t be happy with that.

Then again, if Father knew what he was up to, he wouldn’t be happy regardless.

His eyes drifted up the path, which was now starting to become familiar to him. It was far muddier than when he was last here, and the various stone steps built into the side of the mountain were barely visible amidst the muddied puddles of water littering the ground. Rain continued pouring down.

A sharp, sudden gust of wind smashed into him, nearly causing him to lose his footing. He felt a sharp prickling sensation all over his exposed skin — squinting his eyes against the wind and rain to see the luminescent sparkles surrounding him. ‘Fairy Wind.’

He grinned. Power thrummed in his arms. Digging his back foot into the ground and bending his knee, he slashed forward in an ‘x’ shape, activating his Metal Claw and splitting the Fairy Wind attack clean in half, causing it to disintegrate. Without a second to waste, he shifted his weight into a Quick Attack, still maintaining his Metal Claw, and charged up the path.

‘Judging from the direction of that wind…she’s not trying to hide her position very well. It came from a completely different direction than the wind from the storm. And she ain’t that stupid.’ His eye twitched as he leaped onto a large rock pillar. ‘She’s taunting me!’

Another burst of wind, this time coming from directly behind him, came closer to making him lose his footing. He cancelled his Metal Claw in favor of charging up an Aura Sphere. Only, instead of forming it into its signature spherical shape, he compressed it, forming a longer, aura-infused disc in his hand. Twisting on one leg, his eyes sharpened as he noted a shadow hidden amidst the rocks, and he flung the aura disc as hard as he could — once again splitting the wind…and crashing into the rocks.

The sound of footsteps splashing against the puddles instantly prompted him to form Metal Claw again. He held up his now steel-encased arms in front of him, just barely managing to block the large steel horns that had chomped down on them. He glared at the yellow and black Pokémon in front of him, her ruby-red eyes meeting his own — both eyes tinted with malice.

“Lucario,” She spat out, then grinned. “How lovely it is to see you again, dear Brother.”

“Mawile,” Lucario returned the greeting, albeit struggling under the weight of Mawile’s large jaws, and gave her what he hoped was a bigger grin than her own. “Wish I could say the same.”
Mawile swung her legs upward, decking Lucario in the face, causing him to stumble backwards and for her to leap off of him like a springboard, landing a few feet in front of him with a bow. “You’re still clumsy on your feet.”

Lucario bared his teeth. “And you’re still a piece of shit.”

Mawile laughed. “Is that supposed to hurt my feelings? You really haven’t changed at all. I could sense you coming from a mile away, you know. I’m surprised it took you so long to figure out where I was, especially given how I was practically helping you out with my Fairy Wind attacks.”

“You only used that move twice,” Lucario argued. “Quit it with the fake arrogance and fix your training regimen, you half-Fairy freak.”

If looks could kill…

Mawile said nothing in reply, and for a moment, the only sound that could be heard between the two was the rain, suddenly pouring harder than before, barreling down on the earthen soil with a fury unmatched.

Mawile herself wasn’t wearing a cloak of any sort, causing her to become entirely drenched in the rain. Water poured over her face, but she glared, unwavering, at the Pokémon who was currently the target of her ire. The sky rumbled, and then her eyes softened. She sighed, resigned, then turned around, gesturing at Lucario over her shoulder. “We’re still a fair bit away from the cabin. Walk with me, will you? It won’t kill you to catch up before you ask for whatever the hell you need from me.”

Lucario’s own glare faltered as he stared at Mawile’s retreating back. Then he gave a sigh of his own and trotted after his ‘sister’.

‘She’s still the same as ever…’

Then again, he hasn’t changed much either, has he?

“So,” Mawile spoke up when Lucario caught up to her, and the two walked side by side, trekking up the mountain in the rain, getting more and more drenched with every step they took. “How is Father doing?”

“He’s still the same shitty old dragon he always was.”

Mawile scoffed. “He acts more like a Fighting type than a Dragon type. All that talk about finding balance in our lives, and he couldn’t stand to acknowledge the side of him that everyone sees first.”

“Right,” Lucario said, glancing at her. “I’m sure you understand how to strike a perfect balance between your two types.”

“And the pot calls the kettle black,” she replied dryly.

“Shitty cauldron calls the pot black,” Lucario shot back.

Mawile laughed heartily, in that way that really only she could ever do. The sounds of the rain almost drowned her out, since her laugh had a second, softer lilt to it that only those closest to her could ever hear.

“Thanks,” she said. “Cauldrons are quite cool.”

“They’re associated with witches and the devil, of course, you’d think it was cool.”

There was an odd glint in her eye when she responded. “Arceus created Yveltal for a reason.”

Lucario was taken aback by the jarring response. “What?”

“Yveltal, Kalos’s very own living omen and paragon of destruction…many Pokémon are fine with straight-up worshipping him as a God of destruction, even. It’s that fear he brings with him with every tale and every rumor out there. His power grows stronger the more fear is attached to his name. But we need fear in life, because if we didn’t have any fear, why would we form such strong attachments to life? All fears always trace back to one ultimate fear, one that is shared by every living thing out there…”

Lucario shifted uncomfortably, the familiar lecture ringing in his ears.

“Death.” The siblings locked eyes before turning their faces away from each other.

“...you got a point you’re trying to make, or did you just switch topics just so you could spout back philosophical bullshit from our old man from when we were six?”

“I do, actually,” Mawile replied, looking Lucario up and down. “And I guess maybe you’ve gotten smarter.”

He tried not to rise to the bait. “So? What’s your point?”

Mawile stopped walking abruptly, staring at the large puddle at her feet. Her head slowly travelled upward, to the sky, where the dark, gray storm clouds had yet to let up in their rampage against the Kalos region. “Father’s dying, isn’t he?”

“I guess maybe you’ve gotten smarter,” Lucario replied smoothly.

Mawile barked out another laugh, whether incredulous or impressed, he couldn’t tell. Possibly a mix of both. “That kommo-o…” She shook her head. “The claws of death are never going to clamp their jaws around him. He’s far too slippery for that.” She held out her hands, catching a few raindrops in her palms and stared at the small pool she had accumulated, reflecting her eyes back at her — blank and empty. “Storms make things even slippier, don’t you know.”

Lucario felt his stomach twist at that sentence, although he wasn’t quite sure why. He steeled his own gaze. “Father was also an idiot.”

“Like father, like son…” Mawile muttered, then stared at him dead in the eyes, dropping her hands at her sides. “If he’s expecting help from me, then forget it. If you’re going on your own accord, without his knowledge, well…good luck dealing with his pissy self after this, first of all…and second, I don’t feel inclined to help you either.”

Lucario scoffed, feeling bubbling anger underneath his chest. “Figures. Waste of a goddamn journey.” ‘And a knock-off umbrella.’

“Yes, it’s a pity.” Mawile mused. “You’re still invited to my cabin, by the way. I just don’t plan on helping you out with…Father. Not that I even know what you expected me to help you with.”

Her beady eyes settled on Lucario’s for a moment before she closed them, seemingly resigned. “...unless, of course, you two are still delusional enough to think that every Pokémon with the Fairy typing is capable of learning a move like Floral Healing.”

There it was again, his stomach twisting for reasons he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

Lucario grit his teeth. “Elder was the one who told us that you were fully capable of learning the move. You just didn’t want to save Mom, you snake—”

“Don’t talk to me about Mom!” Mawile shrieked, whirling around with tears in her eyes. Lucario tensed, trying to sense if she was using the move Fake Tears, trying to sense for that intrinsic energy signature that appeared with every special power used by a Pokémon…but he came up short. “She was the only one who cared about me in that village, the only one who thought to give me a home, when everyone else was ready to just toss me out of the village because I was weak! Elder’s a fake, trying to disguise his cowardice in kindness when he’s anything but. He’s the reason our mom is dead!”

Lucario felt heat rush to his face. He felt power build up in his hands, but he tried to push it down. It was one thing to spar with his snake of a sister when they’re both feeling the need to burn off some energy and restlessness — it was a whole other thing to start a fight when they were both emotional like this. “Don’t…” he growled, gritting his teeth. “...insult Elder. He was the only fairy-type anyone in our village could ever trust. Every single other Fairy that blessed our village with their all-powerful presence ended up abandoning us the second some stupid natural disaster would show up!” Droughts, tornadoes, hurricanes, heat waves, winter freezes, and storms of all types — it didn’t matter what, when their power was needed most, they would always disappear. “I thought you were different,” Lucario snarled, feeling a lump in his throat. “I thought…I thought…I thought that…that your stupid, dumbass philosophy and weird hyperfixations and your shitty lemon cookies were things that I liked about you.”

Mawile looked taken aback, and her eyes fell downward. The tears were falling freely down her face, although one wouldn’t normally be able to tell given the rainwater mixed in with it. Lucario could. And he hated her for it.

“As I said,” Mawile scoffed quietly. There was pain in her eyes. “You and Father are both idiots. And honestly, so is everyone else in that goddamn village. Elder’s a monster. It’s not my fault you couldn’t see that—”

Lucario growled at her. “You ran away when Mom was on her deathbed. Elder stood by her side and even supported our stupid father—”

“Elder was an Audino!” Mawile shrieked.

Why does that—”

Mawile fell to her knees into a puddle, splashing against herself as she slumped over. “Lucario…don’t tell me you were never able to figure out Audino’s actual type.”

“What…?”

She looked up at him with dead, soulless eyes. “Audino are Normal types…and the village Elder had everyone fooled into thinking he was a Fairy type.”

Lucario’s stomach twisted, and it was here when he figured out why. He could tell, even without the usage of his aura — she wasn’t lying.

But then how—

“That doesn’t even make any sense.” He hissed.

“I didn’t believe it either, at first.” She began quietly. Lucario had to strain his ears to hear her over the pouring rain. “I don’t know why, or how he was even able to do it, but…he hid his true typing for as long as he’d been the Elder. Mom knew, she tried to say something — then she got sick.”

Lucario was starting to feel sick.

Then he felt angry again. “Why the hell wouldn’t you say anything if you knew—”

“I was a child, you idiot! A dumb, quiet little girl who didn’t do anything but listen to what her adoptive mother would tell her. She told me to run from the village when Father asked me to heal her with Floral Healing, and you and everyone else were just so on board so quickly, and she knew just like I had started to realize at the time that…that…” Her voice cracked. “Audino are capable of learning Wish, which in truth, might be a stronger healing move than Floral Healing itself, but…I didn’t know if that village Elder knew it.”

“So, what, you just…ran…?” Lucario scowled. “Our mother was dying, and you assumed it was because of the Pokémon everyone in our village trusted the most, and you just ran away?!”

“I know I messed up too!” She snapped. “But don’t lie and tell me that anyone in that village wouldn’t have hesitated to have thrown me out anyway, the moment I dared to insult their precious Elder! Mom told me to run — ever wonder why? I wondered too, for years afterward, until I started doing investigating of my own…”

Lucario felt his anger begin to crack.

“...and all those Fairy types that just ran away before natural disasters? Dead. Gone without a trace? It wasn’t of their own free will.”

A part of Lucario was starting to wish he hadn’t decided to make this trek up the mountain. He wished he hadn’t decided to track down where she lived a few years ago to randomly visit her annually and piss her off. He wished he hadn’t told himself how much he found her to be truly despicable, but that his visits made him the superior one in terms of moral standing because she had abandoned their mother. He wished he were more honest with himself about why he was going to visit her in the first place.

But more than anything, now, he wished that he had asked for her story the first time he visited her and that he had convinced her to return to the village and help him expose the Elder, if she was indeed certain about her assumption.

‘Stupid Fairy types.’ He looked down at his distraught sister, then slowly walked over to her…and held out a hand. “Forget the cabin. Come back to the village.”

Mawile gave him the evil eye. “Were you even listening to what I said? If Pokémon weren’t going to listen to me, then they’re especially not going to listen to me now—”

Lucario nudged his hand forward more earnestly. “Come. Live with me, at least. I live on the outskirts of the village, nobody will figure out you’re with me—”

“What, you’re just going to kidnap and hide me now, is that it—?”

“—and we can figure out a plan together, and gather clues, and…” Lucario trailed off and sighed. “Listen, just stop being a little shit and isolating yourself all the way here in the middle of nowhere and just…live with me? I can at least make sure you’ll be fed consistently.”

Mawile opened her mouth, then closed it, then frowned. Her stomach growled at that moment, as if sensing the perfect moment for when to do so, and it caused her to roll her eyes. Stupid Lucario and his stupid aura ability, allowing him to figure out how stupidly malnourished she actually was—

There were so many things she wanted to say to him.

“You’re an idiot,” she said instead.

“And you haven’t changed at all, you piece of—”

“I’ll come with you,” she said softly.

At some point during their conversation, the rain finally started to let up. Not significantly, as this storm was surely to last for another week, but now Lucario could more clearly hear her speaking in her soft tones. He could hear that softer lilt that he had struggled to hear in her laughter earlier.

“Great,” he huffed as his sister took his hand, and he lifted her off the ground. “And now we begin our trek down the mountain.” He paused before looking her over. “...walk with me?”

She laughed. There it was, that lilt again.

‘Stupid sister…’

“Yeah. Let’s walk.”

 

[Beth Pavell]

Content Warning: Mild Injury and Cartoon Violence.
Rated: Everyone.

Take Charge, Bulbasaur!​

The journey to the famous Johto Region landmark, Mount Silver, hadn’t been as successful as seventeen-year-old Ash Ketchum had hoped. It had been a long time since he had set foot in Johto, almost seven years. Maybe slightly less. He always did find it hard to keep track of the days when he was younger and more carefree. His eyes were set on the goal of becoming a Pokémon Master back then. Now though? Those carefree days were gone, or at least this week anyway.

This week was important. It was field research week at the high school, and his topic? The mysterious reports of a rare and unusual Pokémon lurking around Mount Silver. Described by the news anchor as having pale yellow skin and a purple belly, with rickety scales and an earth-shaking attack strong enough to rock the mountain to its core.

Rumours of rare Pokémon turned out to be nothing but a fabrication of the press, like per usual. Correlation and causation aren’t the same. Ash knew that, and he wondered if the press did too, as they seemed to miss the mark completely. The rare earth-shaking pokémon happened to be a slightly different coloured Tyranitar, who was perhaps slightly larger than most. And the earth-shaking? A group of miners were digging into the side of Mount Silver for easier passage to Johto.

Correlation, not causation.

Entering the forest once more, Ash grimaced. His eyes narrowed in on the dark clouds which had begun to form overhead. The sun had danced behind the clouds hours ago, before they had darkened, and now was barely peaking its rays over the horizon. The lush forest began to rustle and rattle, like an angry Arbok as the thunderous storm clouds clashed above, and thick droplets of rain pelted down, springing from one leaf to another.

Without a word, Ash drifted off the path and into the thick brush, kneeling and unzipping his brown backpack. With a deep sigh, he reached in and pulled out a tent roll and leaned it up against the tree. His eyes drifted to his belt, where he kept his Pokémon, and, slowly, his hand hovered over the six metal-capped Poké Balls. His fingers rested on the first one for a moment before moving back, picking up the second, third, fourth and fifth.



“Come on out, gang,” Ash said calmly. His fingers ran smoothly over the button of each Poké Ball, pressing each button in turn. His brown eyes watched the red beam burst free from each ball into a dazing white light, revealing his friends.

The first one to appear was Bulbasaur, chipper and commanding as ever. The small green Pokémon nodded to him, knowing what to do.

“Saur! Bulba!” Bulbasaur chanted, wiggled his long green vines, and marched forward, waving them around. He began picking up the twigs, of all shapes and sizes, that littered the small area and collecting them into a neat pile.

“Thank you, Bulbasaur,” Ash said, reaching into his backpack and pulling out a small metal pot. A gift from an old friend, who would undoubtedly have suggested using it as a hat in weather like this. “Floatzel, can you fill this pot, please?” he asked, offering it to the burly Pokémon, whose thick brown-and-white waterproof coat glistened in the rain.

“Float float floatzel, zel!” the Floatzel replied, reaching forward with a slight wobble. He took the pot from Ash’s hands, then plopped down on the ground, holding it tightly.

With a soft sigh, Ash crouched down next to Floatzel. “Still getting used to being much bigger, huh? You’ll get the hang of it. You’ve only just evolved, after all.” He smiled at Floatzel, remembering when he was a Buizel and his time with Dawn in Sinnoh. “Besides, you did great at Mount Silver.”

A roar cut through the camp as Ash’s Charizard stomped through, waving his flame-lit tail with reckless abandon. A few leaves from nearby bushes began to smoulder where they touched the flame.

Ash’s nose caught a whiff of smoke, and he turned on his heel to see the sulking Charizard stomping around. “Charizard, no!” Ash commanded, approaching the angry fire-type. “Sorry you didn’t get to battle much earlier. Mount Silver is a dangerous place, filled with rock Pokémon. I didn’t want you getting hurt.” Ash placed a hand on Charizard’s scaly shoulder and added, “But I really do need your help now. Can you get a fire going so we can warm up, please? But first, where is Lucario with the dry sticks and bark?” Ash asked.

At the sound of his name, Lucario’s blue ears twitched, and he turned, sprinting over to Ash and meeting his gaze. His mega stone, strapped tightly to his wrist, gleamed with energy, ready to fight if needed. The sight of the slightly saddened Charizard caught his eye, and he took a deep breath, calming himself.

“Hey, Lucario, have you got any dry wood yet? We need it to keep a fire going,” Ash said, pausing to glance up at the sky.

A shadow pierced the darkening sky and began a rapid descent towards the forest. With a smile, Ash knelt back down and reached into his backpack, pulling out the tent pegs. “Noivern and Pikachu will be down soon after scouting the area for danger. So, let’s get camp ready for them. We can then have a nice warm meal and rest for the night before heading back to Viridian City.” Ash sat down by a tree stump. His hand rested on the top as he muttered to no one in particular, “I’ll also need to change into dry clothes, call Mum and let her know I am on my way back.” With a sigh, Ash dug his hands into the deep pockets of his black jacket and pulled out his red Rotom-Phone.

The phone’s home screen was covered with new article pop-ups, making Ash wince. ‘Team Rocket: Fact or Fiction?’, ‘Environmental Pokémon Group using Pokémon moves to attack trainers!’ and ‘Are you a good trainer? These five things are making your Pokémon sad.’

Ash rolled his eyes at the news, running his hand through his black hair until it rested on the blue streak he had dyed into it. He swiped up to reveal the call app. A soft ring echoed through the receiver. Ash moved his left hand to cover his ear, blocking out the sound of the rain as it cascaded through the leaves and into the mud-soaked ground.

The sight of his trainer and friend talking to his mum on the Rotom Phone caught Bulbasaur’s eye as he picked up the last of the sticks with his vines. The sound of wings clashing against the wind filled his ears, and he let out a loud sigh of relief. His eyes drifted to Lucario, untangling the tent’s strings, then to Charizard, who was trying to light the fire in the centre of the camp with some difficulty.

Bulbasaur supposed it wasn’t the fire itself that was the issue, but instead not setting the nearby forest on fire. Sometimes he is glad he didn’t evolve and was happy to stay as a Bulbasaur, although he often has found himself daydreaming about being a Venusaur someday. Maybe not today, though, or tomorrow, but someday. His thoughts drifted to what it would be like to have a much greater presence in the world, no longer a seedling but a grand flower.

The thud of Pikachu and Noivern landing caught him off guard, as they nodded contentedly to one another. Bulbasaur was glad to be in the company of friends. Although he didn’t know Lucario or Noivern exceptionally well, or Floatzel either, for that matter, while working with Pokémon at Professor Oak’s Lab in Kanto, he had briefly seen them from time to time.

Bulbasaur, picking up the sticks once more, begins to place them around the campsite in a circle, an early warning system used for years just in case a curious Pokémon enters the camp. Placing one stick after another, ensuring they are intertwined without a gap, he ponders what Professor Oak is up to now. He remembers accompanying him on a trip to a place called Kalos once. Something to do with Mega Evolution and why it won’t work on him, or something like that. He forgets.

Hiss.

The sound of skin being pierced followed by a “Pikachu!”

A flash of purple, red and yellow darts in front of him, as Ash, his trainer, his friend, collapses to the ground, holding his leg.

Puffing itself out, the attacker, an Arbok, hissed once more, rattling its tail and baring its jagged, poison-tipped fangs. With its tail armed and soaked in poison, it struck Ash’s backpack, and the sound of bottles and empty Poké Balls being crushed escaped through the small slash in the side.

“Chu!” screamed out from the group, and Pikachu leapt into action, jumping up into the air. His yellow tail raised light a grand lightning road, while his fur dripped with the ever-constant rain. A slight sparking sound whispered as his fur bristles stood on end. The wind rushed through the small gap in the trees, and from the clouds above, three thin white-and-yellow streaks danced down toward the forest.

The first struck a nearby tree, scorching and scarring the bark with the unmistakable crispy lines of pure rage, before setting it ablaze. The second darted down through the branches and collided with the Arbok’s tail, leaving a scorch mark.

The Arbok hissed out in pain and rage, raising its purple streaked tail to strike down on Pikachu, as it slithered forward in the mud. The pattern on its hood shifted to a furious red, its sharp zig-zags. A hissing threat slipped through its mouth and onto its extended tongue as the third and final thunder strike landed in front of it, cutting its path off and spewing mud up into the air from the sheer force.

The grass strands which had stood where the thunder struck were no more. Instead, they had withered away into nothing but a crisp, blackened scorch mark.

“Arbok,” hissed the Arbok. Its narrow eyes widened, and it looked around from side to side, spotting the angry group of Pokémon closing in from all angles now.

A red beam captured Arbok’s figure, and it faded away in but an instant, as footsteps faded into the woodlands, as smoke continued to float upward from the burning tree, as a casual map marker to anyone nearby of the chaos that had just occurred.

“Pika!” Pikachu cried out, and with a scowl on his face, he pulled his black tipped ears back and pointed into the woods. “Chu! Pikachu!” he shouted at Noivern, who had, for the most part, just patiently watched the last few minutes unfold, unsure whether or not intervention would be necessary.

Pikachu stopped.

Something wasn’t right.

“Saur, Bulba Bulbasaur.” A wobbled lip passed over Bulbasaur’s face as he plodded through the mud and over to Ash, who was lying unconsciously against the wet and harsh grounds of Mount Silver’s outskirts.

The stones had torn Ash’s jacket, and a small set of cuts speckled his black trousers. His hair was messy, and his signature black and white cap was tossed aside onto the floor almost as if it didn’t matter right now. His forehead was pouring small beads of sweat, and he panted vigorously as if the air around him was going to disappear any second now and never return.

The stomping of frustration caught Bulbasaur’s ear, and he turned to see Charizard puffing smoke through his nostrils, with darkened eyes. Quickly, he raised his vine and shook his head.

“Saur, Bulb-a.” Bulbasaur wiggled his vine and gestured to the fire, which had begun to spread. “Saur! Bulba!” He eyed up Floatzel, who saluted with a flipper.

“Chu…” whispered Pikachu, his face saddened, and the deep red spots on his cheeks dimmed in the rain’s dull glaze.

With soft footsteps, Bulbasaur looked up to the sky with a simple question on his mind. What do we do now? A question, he knew, which didn’t have an easy answer. Ash was burning up, and he could see that. Arbok’s poison was running deep, and he was helpless right now.

They all were.

“Saur!” he cried out into the rain, his green cheeks reddened for but an instant before he took a deep breath and his gaze drifted to Pikachu, whose tears he could see soaking Ash’s jacket more than the rain ever could. “Saur…saur…saur…” he muttered, pacing for a moment before turning to Noivern and Lucario. “Bul Bulbasaur Saur Saur Bulba!” He tensed his bulb as he gestured into the thicket where the Arbok had been withdrawn, and then waved his vines into the sky.

With a solemn nod, Noivern began to flap his wings before lowering them for Lucario to climb aboard. His black and purple scales glistened in the rain, almost becoming a small beacon of hope.

Lucario’s paws rested on Noivern’s back. They gripped on for dear life, as the dragon-type began to flap its thunderingly large wings, raising it off the ground and contending with the wicked winds which were blowing overhead and taking off in the direction of Viridian City.

“Saur.” Bulbasaur nodded to himself and grimaced at the smoking leaves from the plants which the blaze had burned. Charred wood wouldn’t set alight a second time, at least that’s what he remembered Ash saying once before, after Charizard had overdone it on the fire. His eyes closed for a moment before refocusing on Charizard, who was stomping around in a furious pace, turning up the mud as he did.

“Pikachu…” Pikachu murmured, catching Bulbasaur’s attention.

“Saur… Bulbasaur?” Bulbasaur asked, wincing at the thought of one of his friends being poisoned, but hopeful that they had, as Ash would have known what to do to make them better.

“Chu… Pika Pikachu, Chu,” Pikachu answered with a sniffle, his eyes watering as he did his best to imitate Poipole and then Rowlet.”

With a nod, Bulbasaur understood. Once, Ash’s Poipole had poisoned his Rowlet with Toxic. Something Bulbasaur, a poison-type himself, understood more than anything: different kinds of poison and levels of poison have different effects, as he thought back to defending the other Pokémon from humans so very long ago. Long before he had even met Ash and Pikachu.

“Zel!” Floatzel called out, waving his left paw in the air, and grinning at the lack of smoke and flames now in the area.

“Saur!” Bulbasaur chimed back and felt his tensed muscles relax a little—one less problem. “Sa-saur, Bulba…” he muttered to himself before looking up at the tent, which was frayed in a few places, but still intact. Bulbasaur nodded to Charizard and Floatzel, who moved to Ash, lifted him off the muddied ground and dragged him into the tent. He watched as Pikachu grabbed hold of Ash’s leg in an attempt to help carry his friend and felt a wave of worry fill every single cell in his body.

Bulbasaur plodded into the tent and glanced over at Ash, who was out cold, before stepping back outside and heading over to Ash’s torn bag. His red eyes gazed down at the purple, yellow, green, and blue liquids, cupped among the glass bottles inside. Or the remnants of them at least.

One of these had to be the cure for poison. Ash would never risk one of his friends getting poisoned for long while travelling, Bulbasaur considered for a moment. He winced at the thought of trying them himself one by one. Logically, that would be the fastest way to find the antidote, but what then? He risked getting himself sick, as an Antidote would attack the poison within him, or worse. He remembered eating a berry once that made him feel not so good, but he couldn't remember where or when, exactly.

A berry might help Ash.

Bulbasaur nodded and walked over to Pikachu, Charizard and Floatzel, and with a whisper, he said, “Saur, Bulba saur saur Bulba.”

Huffing in response, Charizard shook his head.

“Chu… Pika!” Pikachu chanted, remembering the time a Skrelp had poisoned him. “Pika! Pika!”

“Saur… Saur…” Bulbasaur responded with a nod and then turned to Charizard and issued an order. “Bul-Bulba.”

Growling once more, Charizard puffed a little more smoke out of his squared-off snout and nodded.

As Pikachu faded into the bushes with Charizard in hot pursuit, Bulbasaur and Floatzel stood guard over Ash’s tent. Bulbasaur felt as if he had aged fifty years in the last hour or so from the pure stress of it all, but no matter. He took a deep sigh of relief, knowing that Charizard and Pikachu were on their way to finding some sort of anti-poison berry.

If Pikachu could remember the taste, that is. Or smell. Or what it looked like.

Bulbasaur didn’t know anymore. He turned to Floatzel and watched as his friend filled a small pot with water and brought it over to Ash’s unconscious form. Bulbasaur tilted his head as Floatzel stuck his arm into Ash’s bag and pulled out a sock, dipped it in the cool water, and laid it over Ash’s forehead.

“Saur,” Bulbasaur whispered in approval. He began to reset the twigs around the campsite, marking a new early-warning system in case of unwelcome guests. Although if Arbok came back, he would surely teach that pest a lesson it would never forget. He wondered who sent it here, and why Ash? It couldn’t be Team Rocket, right? Not after all this time. He rolled his eyes, thinking about the uncoordinated trio who had followed Ash after Pikachu—an endeavour he found mildly pointless at best.

An obsession.

Bulbasaur sighed and approached the slashed bag, and as Floatzel had before, he dived into it, but rather than using his paws, he used his vines, wrapping around the small sachet of soup powder that Ash carried for emergencies. He remembers the last time Ash cooked one of these. It was back near the peak of Mount Silver, when an angry Donphan had attempted to use Rollout and had crushed all of Ash’s food.

The berries they had spent hours picking.

They hadn’t had a chance to replenish supplies yet, but now it seemed so trivial. With his vine, Bulbasaur slowly tore open the packet and poured it into the water. He dipped his vine in and stirred slowly. He had forgotten that Charizard would have been handy right now, but sending Pikachu off alone into the woods while that thing was out there… that would have been a dumber decision.

Cold soup was better than no soup.

Bulbasaur drifted his focus back to Floatzel, who was pacing anxiously beside Ash. Bulbasaur wanted to say something. Anything. But his jaw hung low, and no sounds came out. Pikachu and Charizard would find the berries, and Noivern and Lucario would find help, right? Or at least the person who did this.

How long would it take to reach Viridian City from here? A day? Maybe two days? No longer if they had to carry Ash. Besides, Noivern and Lucario headed away from Viridian and towards Johto. Bulbasaur pondered and paced inside the tent, listening to the rain drizzle down the side of the tarp in a scoring fashion. The wind had begun to howl, too, to make matters worse.

“Chu! Pika!” The sound of Pikachu’s cry burst through Bulbasaur’s thoughts, and he rushed outside to see Charizard holding a rather disgruntled backpacker by his bag.

“Get off of me. Let me go, I say! I have places to be!” the backpacker shouted, kicking and squirming in a voice which sounded vaguely familiar, if not slightly more worn than it used to be. “Huh? What’s this?” The hiker twisted and broke free of Charizard’s grip and peered inside the tent.

All of a sudden, his face went pale, and his eyes widened. “Twerp?” He rested his hand on Ash’s head and muttered, “This is bad, but it isn’t the worst I’ve seen.” He turned to Pikachu and narrowed his eyes. “Didn’t you do enough damage? I wasted years of my life chasing after you… and now… You know what? It doesn’t matter. That’s an Arbok bite. If only Jesse were here…”

Bulbasaur scowled and growled. “Saur! Bulba! Bulba!” He raised his vines and went to attack James, who was kneeling beside Ash.

“Chu! Pika Pika!” Pikachu shouted, stepping in the way. “Pika… Pikachu Chu Pika!”

“Yes, Pikachu is right, attacking me won’t solve anything.” James reached into his backpack and pulled out a small plastic bag filled with various berries and medicines. “Now, I am no nurse, but one of these has to help with poison. Jesse would know. She is now a nurse in Unova, working with Pokémon to find a universal cure to certain injuries. Isn’t she amazing?” He pulled out a small syringe from a packet and tore it open. “I think this is the one.”

Bulbasaur tilted his head, glancing at the syringe. “Saur?”

“I don’t know if it will work. I don’t know how bad the poison is, but this, I think, is what Jesse gave me the last time I got bitten by my Toxapex, so it should work?” He raised the plunger on the syringe and injected Ash’s leg near where the bite is.

“Pika…Chu?” Pikachu asked, looking at James quizzically.

“Oh, no, I’m not a nurse. Actually, I run a support group for teenagers in Unova. I want to avoid them making the same mistakes I did. I still have a lot of trouble to my name. But these days, it’s best to avoid making those mistakes again. Besides, I am a father now, so I have to work even harder.” James places a hand on Ash’s forehead again. “Hopefully that fever will break soon.”

“Bul Bulba?” Bulbasaur asked.

“Yes, he should be okay.” James stood up and said, “Let’s take his jacket off, though. No use in his lying here in wet clothes like that. He could get sicker.”

“Saur?!” Bulbasaur shouted, jumping back as shame flooded his body.

“Zel… " Float,” Floatzel chipped in.

James sat down by the unlit fire. “I also sent for help. You see, when Charizard grabbed me, I sent off a signal on my phone. These kinds of apps are beneficial.” James pulled out a matchbook, struck a match, tossed it onto the wood, and hoped it would catch alight.

However, before his match could even land on the wood, Charizard had stomped over and blown fire on the wood, forcing it to catch alight.

“Pikachu… use… thunderbolt…” Ash murmured, beginning to stir.

With a relieved sigh, James moved the cooking pot over to the fire. “Welcome back, Twerp.” He dipped the ladle in and pulled out a small serving of soup.

Quickly, Bulbasaur looked from side to side, hoping to find something to store the soup in. “Saur?”

“Chu, Pika Pikachu?” Pikachu asked James, cupping his paws into a bowl.

James lowered the ladle back into the pot, opened his backpack, took out a small plastic bowl, then gripped the ladle once more and poured the soup into the bowl. “Here, this will help. An Arbok has bitten you. Your friends were taking care of you. It’s okay. Help is coming now. It will all be alright.”

Ash slowly sat up and took the soup. “Thanks.” His voice was groggy, and his eyes looked dazed. “I guess it is true then. Something dangerous really was out here…” He took a bite out of the soup and swallowed it. “Let’s be more careful from now on.” Ash reached down, picked up his phone, and read the news pop-up. Woman tackled by Furious Lucario and Noisy Noivern. “Um… I guess we need to get to Johto… and clear up this mess. Ach… Pikachu, I don’t know if I can walk… is Charizard…”

Charizard grumbled at the sound of his name, but walked over to Ash.

“Thanks, Mister. I didn’t catch your name,” Ash said.

“Sa—” Bulbasaur began, but was cut off.

James tucked his hands into his pockets. “That doesn’t matter. And you should rest. The authorities are coming, and they’ll be able to get you to a hospital.” He turned around to head back into the overgrowth, raising a hand to wave goodbye.

“Saur-Saur!” Bulbasaur chimed, waving his vine in the air, before turning back to Ash. “Bulba.”

“Yeah, I’ll take it easy, Bulbasaur.” Ash placed a hand on Bulbasaur’s head. “Thanks.”

 

[Beth Pavell]

Content Warning: Brief strong language, Mild pokémon violence
Rated: Everyone.

Five Christmases​

“COME IN! Come in, get out of that cold!”

Cyrus cleared the threshold of the fine but small cottage, and slammed the heavy oak door behind him against the blizzard. He kicked chunks of ice off his boots onto the embroidered doormat.

MY HOUSE, MY RULES.

“I apologize for the weather,” the host said, a tall and thin man in a slim silk jacket. He wore a wide-brimmed hat in his own house. “Not ideal conditions for discussing business. But I’m sure we’ll make the best of it.” He crossed to the kitchen. “Have a seat in the living room. Anything warm to drink?”

Riley. Third generation owner of Iron Island, which contained the second most dense distribution of iron in Sinnoh. Non-insignificant deposits of aluminum, copper, silver, titanium. Trace amounts of lead deeper in the existing mines, which ran 1300 meters deep. Eventual expansion to 2500 meters possible. Riley hated warm drinks, no coffee or tea, not even soup. Why did they never dig down that far?

“Hot chocolate, thank you.”

Riley prepared the chocolate and returned, sitting across from his guest on the puffy sofa opposite the fireplace.

“You have a quaint home, Riley. I doubt I would’ve found my way here in this blizzard if not for your home blinking neon red and green.”

“My Absol picked those out.” Riley laughed. “He likes to brood most of the year, but he loves to hang Christmas lights. Even if it makes my house here on the island look ridiculous.”

Cyrus nodded. Riley continued.

“I trust you received my letter that I will not be selling my majority shares of the mine, nor any of the surrounding land.”

“A decision befitting the metals market of several years past, I’m afraid.” Cyrus said. “The mine has not produced to shipping capacity for almost three years now. Several untapped veins of iron and copper remain, as well as significant bauxite strains for aluminum mining. Per my sources.”

“If you want the metal, we can make a deal for me to get you the metal. But the mine’s not for sale.”

“Forgive me for asking why you hold so stubbornly to this place. I’ve gotten reports of abandoned mining equipment, laid-off staff, dwindling contracts. You’ve got a skeleton crew down there. I’d hate to see good metal go unused.”

“Why does Galactic need end-to-end resource control, anyway?” Riley said. “You guys have got the entire energy infrastructure industry on their heels already. I met with a woman from Pastoria last week, she said they can’t sub out to anyone else ‘cause there’s no one left. They’re writing to Santa Claus, wishing for competitors for Christmas so your prices don’t double. You want more heat from the Sinnoh Energy Commission on you? What is it that you need direct access to all this metal for?”

“I’d be a fool not to purchase the mines at a competitive price, considering the state you’ve left them in.”

“Eliminating the middleman, huh?”

“Just reducing friction and waste. I’ll need it to realize the future I’ve envisioned.”

Riley rose and walked to the fireplace. The only sound was the erratic whistling blizzard without the cabin, and the popping burning logs within it.

“The mine… it’s been in my family for so long. It was a gift to me from my mother.” Riley flicked his eyes to the mantle, then back to the fire. “You’re right, it’s been difficult to turn a profit at times. But I want to give this gift to someone special one day. I can’t sell.”

“Sentiment?” Cyrus rose and approached Riley at the fireplace. “You operate this mine at a loss, and you refuse to sell due to sentiment?”

Riley smiled and nodded. “It’s a sentimental time of year, I suppose.”

“And I suppose it’s a sentimental time of year for the miners you laid off in the fall.” Cyrus put an arm on the mantle and leaned towards Riley. “For the machinists you once subcontracted to fill your mine with new, productive equipment. For the pokemon and trainers who hauled ore up to the freighters, and the crew that worked those freighters.”

Riley blinked but answered clearly.

“I’m still open for business, Cyrus. If you care about all those workers, it won’t matter whether they’re under your employ or mine. Tell me how much ore you want and we’ll get it for you.”

Cyrus drained his mug and strode the length of the cottage in three paces. He stopped on the doormat and turned back to Riley, light and shadow from the fire flickering upon his face.

“Attachment, nostalgia, paranoia… all synonyms for love. One of the many emotions that cloud your judgement. But you aren’t alone. Our species is plagued by chemical imbalances charading as inspiration and truth. Soon we will have a world free from these hindrances, and the pain they cause will no longer exist.”

Riley was a slender silhouette in front of the flames.

“I pity the one who fears what’s in his heart.”

“You know nothing of fear. I want to keep it that way, for everyone’s sake. I’ll have my iron, Riley.”

A blast of wind and he was gone, over the threshold and into the frigid dark.
——

I taste creamy hot cocoa prepared by a man with whom I hope to do business.

——

Grandpa the tree doesn’t look right.

What’s wrong with it, Russ?

Call me by my name Grandpa. It’s leaning too much, we can’t put anything on the top of it. Too much empty space on the bottom back left side next to the poker stand. It’s too close to the fireplace really. And the fifth layer of tinsel is too close to the sixth layer of lights.

You hung the tinsel, Cyrus.

I’ll fix it.

I think the tree looks beautiful this year. You don’t have to fix anything. I just wish your grandmother could’ve seen what a good job you did.

Please don’t be upset grandpa. I don’t want you to feel sad.

I know Russ.

——
I smell the Galactic building’s mess hall in late December; old microwaves that aren’t cleaned often enough, turkey sandwiches, fish and rice, green bean casserole.

I smell beached magikarp rotting in the winter sun on Lake Valor’s drained lakebed.

——

Golden rivers flow up like ribbons and form the base of the great tree, pewter branches trimmed with brand new worlds and dying stars and twinkling like fireflies… nonsense, but he looked for a flaw, something that could be fixed, improved, shored up, but when he reached for a gassy orb too close to another, or too hidden by the bristled branches of this tree, it just shifted into a familiar face or a long vine or a ceramic absol missing a ceramic leg and he couldn’t grasp what needed to be fixed. But he felt… nothing. No caged frustration at the shifting boughs of the tree, followed immediately by restraint, which renewed the anger—and then he’d normally remember his training, observing the leaves on the stream outside that old lopsided tower, watching his rage and his shame and his ambition float along, swirling around in whirlpools for a moment, clinging tight to the water’s lumpy giltwork surface, fighting drag as if on a line, staying put, but then those leaves would slowly lose the will to fight nature and shrink smaller and smaller downstream as he no longer focused on them, and eventually no longer felt them. This was what it took, back then, to fight all of it closing in on him like a predator inside the prey’s den.

Now though… It's like he was the stream. Just moving, being. He didn’t care what leaves of emotion fell upon him, what weights dropped from high places and slapped the surface of his soul and stayed for a while. And it was the same for anyone that would meet him here and join him in being, he knew. The emotions and the people dumping them upon him gone from his mind in every moment, a part of this unending moment that was now his reality.

Yet he couldn’t help but wonder, not out of fear but simple curiosity… where was he? And how did he come to trim this monstrous tree?

——
I feel my Crobat’s supple leathery wings snap full with wind as we glide silently towards the eternal forest.

I feel torn paper in my hands, and the weightless heft of an empty box wrapped carefully just for me.

I feel soft teased grass support my head and neck as I watch airplanes bisect the sky with their chemtrails.

——

Normally in an area like this the production ratio is fixed, but if I could use a new type of glass on the bridges to increase the input to the panels, the kilowatts per hour would reach much higher average levels…

“Cyrus? What the hell’re you doing out here?”

Lawrence Trundle, Sunyshore Municipal Engineering, maintenance engineer. “Engineer” misleading title; handyman-level problem solving at best. Inefficient, unmotivated by professional growth, prone to complain. 23 years seniority at SME, union shop steward.

“Just running a few tests Mr. Trundle.”

Try to look like you’re covering the custom solar panel attached to the southern side of the eastbound ramp.

“A kid like you oughta be with your family on Christmas, not working out here in this damn cold. And interns don’t even get any holiday pay.” He peers through my outstretched arms at the panel. “That don’t look like one of our panels, Russ.”

Goddammit with that name again. Forget it, act surprised you got caught, act like you’re showing him something special.

“It’s just a side project, Mr. Trundle. I’m manipulating the solar cells to give a stronger wattage output despite the constancy of the production ratio.” Look down. “My parents think the greatest gift I could receive is knowledge and experience. They don’t really like giving gifts for Christmas.” Fiddle with the output reader, and then the control box on the back of the panel. “So I’m giving myself a gift.”

“Supervisors won’t like you modifying their equipment…”

Obvious statement of witnessing wrongdoing, to absolve himself of guilt for what’s next.

“…But it’s only one panel. And it’s Christmas. You’re smart to look out for yourself at this age.”

It’s getting too easy. But try to look grateful. Offer him something in return.

“If my readings are correct, and they always are, we could double the output of the panels on these bridges with just a few hardware adjustments.” Invoke the good of the people. “We could power not only the roadways, but satisfy at least 70% of Sunyshore’s public energy needs, with potential expansion to residential markets as well.”

He stares at me in that blue collar time wasting slack-jawed way. He’s going to tell me I’ll be running this place one day.

“You’ll be running this place one day, Russ.”

“It’s Cyrus. If you’re going to waste my time, get my name right.”

You’re gonna lose him. Temper causes mistakes and you fucking know this and still you can’t help yourself.

He creases those deep lines in his forehead, like he does when he complains. If he turns you in you’ll have no one to blame but yourself.

“You’re a smart kid, Cyrus. All the old timers talk about how bright of a future you’ve got.” The hourly guys always talk in generalizations and cliches. Familiarity, comfort. “And I’ve been around long enough to know kids like you are rare. The world needs people like you to push things along.” I can’t bring myself to smile, but I nod. He’s not saying anything anyway. He turns up the ramp to go check the glass floor panels.

“And Cyrus?”

I’m getting tired of pretending to listen to him. Glance up.

“I’m sorry you’re working on Christmas.”

——
I hear my classmates singing “Joy to the World” on my front porch, the sound dulled by my father’s wide figure in the doorway.

I hear the thin red chain shatter into uncountable kaleidoscopic fragments.

I hear my grandfather’s high hissing laugh as his footsteps approach my hiding spot and he says “found ya!”

I hear the bubbled bassy groan of The Being as it circles behind me, or maybe it’s down below the water that roars up from the depths towards my feet.

——
“But why would a wealthy man such as yourself seek training here in Johto?”

“My reasons are my own. I will pay any sum you and your men require for nine months of training.”

“The people who study here do not belong to me any more than the bellsprout belong to the tower, mister…?”

“My name is unimportant. However much nine months of your time is worth, triple it, and that’s what I’ll pay you. Think of it as a Christmas gift. My Pokémon and I will train here.”

“I suppose you aren’t used to others refusing your money.”

“Looks like your monastery could use it. The load bearing columns are swaying far more than local retrofitting codes recommend, even accounting for the extra weight on the roof from the snow.”

“Strange that monks would value symbolism in their home above pure structural efficiency, no?”

“…”

“I apologize if I’m the first to refuse such a lavish gift. But I do not know your intentions with this humble temple, and more importantly, I do not know your intentions with yourself.”

“A sage with a sense of humor.”

“Did you think you could blow in with the winter wind and take our most sacred teachings, offering only money in return? You’ll find our wisdom quite useless without the honesty to observe yourself as you truly are.”

“…”

“…”

“What can I do to prove myself to you?”

“Just tell me what you believe you are missing.”

“I want peace, sage. I’ve seen cosmic horrors incomprehensible to the human mind. I’ve watched people punish their futures out of regret for the past. I’ve seen those who ought to succeed fail, and those born for failure decide the fates of better men. I’ve seen destruction and injustice and chaos. What I’ve seen, it makes me angry. And my anger has driven me to unspeakable acts. My emotions will no longer rule my life or anyone else’s.”

“Emotion is a bit of a specialty of ours, believe it or not.”

“So you will train me?”

“I cannot offer you peace. I cannot remove what you’ve seen from your mind, nor what you’ve done from your body. And I cannot remove the catalyst of emotion from your soul. What I believe is available to every living being, on earth and elsewhere, is acceptance. Acceptance not only of our past and present, but also the way our mind distorts the truth. But the path to acceptance is difficult.”

“I’m used to difficult.”

“We will see. Meet me on the riverbank in fifteen minutes. Bring only your senses, your emotions, and your will to observe them.”

“A wise decision, sage. Certainly a lucrative one. And my name is Cyrus.”

“I know who you are, Cyrus.”

“We will see.”

——
I see a bellsprout whipping yellow vines against a metal pole.

I see a solar cell calibrated 13 degrees too far to the northeast, yielding a net solar input loss of 7% as compared to its neighbors. But I can’t actually see the inefficiency created by the angle.

I see a blood red Japanese maple leaf fall from a low branch into the middle of the river.

I see my mother’s face elongated, eyes wide, thin eyebrows playing a contact sport with each other, pale lips an upright ellipse the surface area of which is black, shallow grooves across her forehead that I know will deepen with time and disappointment.

I see a honchrow preside over a murder of murkrow as they encircle a kricketune and peck it three at a time until it stops moving.

——

Perhaps this man will know he is not alone in this place or in this season. He is a renegade like me, decorating our mad world with memories both true and imagined. His senses can’t always be trusted here, but he is early in his journey. If this earthly occasion brings him acceptance, it will be so in my domain.

Two banished souls, sealed forever in an endless labyrinth. But at least we travel together.

And I must remember, he found this place. I was sent here.

 

[Beth Pavell]

Content Warning: Strong language
Rated: Everyone.

No Matter How Far We Are Apart​

The Naranja Academy was a bustling score of sounds, like a disjointed choir meeting for the first time. Students had rushed around all month, handing in their end-of-term papers and preparing for their written and practical exams; this final week of term had been a breath of fresh air for everyone—a short period of respite before the next term.

The four o’clock bell rang out, piercing through the holiday-filled air, dismissing the final class. A cascade of chants and cheers followed from students and teachers alike. The sound of voices echoed down every corridor and into every classroom, bursting out and consuming the rustle of backpacks stuffed with books, notepads, and pens for the last time before Winter Break. The sound of small gifts being handed to teachers, pulled from backpacks or neatly folded inside gift bags, crumbled with smiles plastered on both parties' faces.

Throughout the school, the corridors were filled with students rushing to their dorms to grab their presents to hand to their friends in the courtyard. After saying their final goodbyes for the term, the sight of them seizing their suitcases at lightning speed, with the full-blown intention of boarding the first boat or plane home, was almost a blur.

The trees and decorations covering the courtyard caught Dot’s eyes as she walked through, and she held her bag tight. The pink and purple satchel rested atop her right shoulder and dangled down, filled with her schoolbooks, pens, and assignments for the Winter Holidays. With a disgruntled sigh, she looked up to the star on the tree. Tucked beneath the bristles of the fir branches were the gifts for the students who hadn’t had the opportunity to catch their friends before the city’s traffic had picked up, forcing students into a chaotic rush to go home.

Dot reached down and picked up the two gift bags with her name on them, then glanced around the base of the tree to see whether the two gifts she had left there had been forgotten or discarded. With a deep sigh of relief, she smiled, realising they had been taken, hopefully, by the two intended recipients.

She knew the city would soon be empty, and no tourists would be near the school building. A sight she had grown used to over the last term. Numerous backpackers heading into the wild would stop by the nearby Pokémon Centre; others, scholars and such, would visit the library or attend open talks in the main auditorium. With both locations closed to non-students, the district would be far more peaceful. There would be no one else around except those other students who were unfortunate enough to have been left behind at school over the holidays, like her.

Of course, Dot guessed that she would never have been so lucky as to have her friends stranded at the rule-restricting academy over the holidays as well. Or perhaps that would be too cruel of her to wish such a thing on them. She wasn’t too sure as she gripped her presents tightly.

At least the holidays would give her a chance to catch up on her personal life, or rather, her online persona. She would have time to record a few videos and try to post a few livestreams over the break. Since meeting Roy and Liko, her life had changed completely. She had felt more confident in herself and her abilities. However, the more time Dot had spent with the other Rising Volt Tacklers, the more her streaming schedule had gone out the window, into the river and out to sea. She wasn’t even sure what she would stream tonight, and the thought bothered her as she stepped into her room. Dot found herself, yet again, wondering whether this was the case for any other content creators. She imagined so. Or at least she hoped it wasn’t just her.

Streaming seemed so small right now in the grand scheme of things. Instead, exams seemed to be the biggest problem right now, and that was fine for anyone who wanted to be a doctor or a lawyer or a Pokémon professor, but what about those who didn’t? For every doctor, there was an artist, or a dancer, and for every lawyer, there was a singer, a content creator.

It wasn’t that Dot didn’t care about the exams, or was doing poorly at school. In fact, her grades had been steadily improving from high to very high. But the pressure of exams and how it made her feel was just…

Dot sank into her seat at her desk and picked up a pen to begin writing down her thoughts and ideas for her stream, but felt her mind clutter all over again. Not everyone was good at exams. Her loss to Larry just proved that. She may have passed, but she lost, and that loss hurt. It hurt so much she just couldn’t…

Dot had screwed up the piece of paper she had been writing on and snapped back to reality. She blinked twice, as if coming out of a trance, and took a moment to ground herself. She was in her room. The bed’s blanket, a plain white one, was still spewed all over the place, untidied, and her cushions were just as skewwhiff.

It didn’t help matters that Quaxwell was pruning on the floor, pulling out old feathers with a shimmy, making an even bigger mess.

“If I stream at least, I won’t be alone,” Dot muttered into her folded arms, and she pressed her head against the wooden desk and let out a loud, “Awwww….” With a grunt, she lifted her head again. It was almost five in the afternoon. Not even dinner time.

It was not time to sleep, nor was it time to forget.

A wave of sadness crossed over her as she faced the fact that Liko and Roy and already gone home. Didn’t even have a chance to say goodbye. Roy had to leave immediately as his grandma was going over to his house for the holidays and he wanted to be there to welcome her in. As for Liko, well, she had a long journey home ahead of her and couldn’t risk missing the plane. Liko had even told her about leaving class early to make sure she made it. Dot was relieved that they weren’t gone forever, and they would undoubtedly text her when they got home, but still.

Dot hated the fact that she hadn’t seen them. She hated the fact that they weren’t here with her. A pinch of anxiety crept down her spine, making her shudder anxiously. What if they didn’t care and these gifts were just… No…

Dot glanced at her bag and opened it up, and with a nervous grimace, she took out the homework she had been given back earlier that day and had neatly folded up and tucked into her bag without a care in the world. Mostly because she was hoping to catch her friends before they left, but so much for that.

She unfolded the marked work and glanced over it with a low glare. A little smile darted over Dot’s face, seeing the 92% marked on the top of the paper in a big red circle. A reminder from the teachers that she was worthy of the grades she got in the previous work, and that she could reach for the stars.

“No, I am better than I think.” Dot stood up and looked out the window, seeing the stars starting to form in the deep purple sky. She reached forward and undid the latch with a flick of her fingers and pulled the window up to let the crisp, winter air rush her off her feet.

The small, decorated tree, covered in silver and gold tinsel, red baubles and lights, in the corner of her room cast a glistening light that reflected in the mist that had crept in, dazzling in a red-and-yellow blaze as it covered several presents.

Dot glanced at the gifts. The first, a red box with a green bow, or what could be considered a bow if she squinted hard enough, was labelled To Dot from Roy, and the second, in blue paper with a Bergmite pattern, was labelled To Dot from Liko.

Dot pondered for a moment whether she should wait or open them now, as she lifted each box and shook it lightly, before feeling the chill in the air and hearing Quaxwell sneeze.

“Sorry, Quaxwell…” she said, walking back over to the window. She closed it tightly and pulled up her chair. “I hope Roy and Liko have made it home. I know it is a long trip for Liko.”

Bzzt!

The phone on the desk vibrated, and a message popped up on the screen.

“Made it home safe.” ~ Liko.

“Sorry you are stuck at school! So, lame.” ~ Liko.

“Have you heard from Roy yet?” ~ Liko

Dot’s eyes locked back onto the gifts, and she smiled before texting back. “No, not yet.” She looked at the gifts once more and then texted, “Thank you for the present!”

Quaxwell waddled over to Dot and sat down on the wooden floor amongst the feathered mess.

“Rising Volt Tacklers Go!” ~ Liko.

“Go!” Dot texted back, placing the present back under the tree. I have the best friends.

 

[Beth Pavell]

Content Warning: Strong language
Rated: Everyone.

Somebody stop me im smoking the track​

It’s mean to say it, but you put up with a lot of stupid shit, including whatever Johanna did to your face.

She’s smiling ear to ear as you stare at your reflection in the mirror, beaming the biggest smile since her seventh birthday, when you gave her a Glameow that happened to share her birthday. The fluorescent lights only make her garish colour choices louder, colours only a child could like, like the colours of the cheap party decorations and the sprinkles she has poured all over the cake. The blobs don’t even match the contours of your face. It’s a disaster, the kind only a child could make.

She’s just a kid, her mother would probably say if you tried to complain. She’s just getting the hang of makeup. Maybe someday she’ll be a star like you!

That’s all well and good, really, but you can’t really afford to be her beauty test subject when you have a Contest in three minutes, and your eyeshadow is clashing with your dress, and your lipstick is uneven, and your eyeliner looks like baby’s first colouring page. A kid like her can afford to mess up as many times as she wants; you can’t afford anyone messing up on you. Audiences don’t care if you need to babysit your poor little goddaughter because her mother is busy working two jobs. Audiences don’t care if a little kid did your makeup because someday she wants to be a Coordinator too. If you look like shit, you look like shit.

But you’ve never been good at turning people down, and in fact you’re the Top Coordinator of the Grin and Bear It. If only that translated into your actual Contest career; you’ve only snagged a couple of wins in a few minor competitions.

But maybe… maybe it’s something about how Johanna can be so proud of something she’s done, or something about how she looks at you in your childish makeup like you’re her magnum opus painting, that makes you feel… genuine joy? Guilt, that’s what it is. You feel guilty getting so mad at a kid. Besides, isn’t the main point of Contests the Pokémon? No one will care if your makeup is bad. Let her dreams come true today, because when she grows up, they’ll all come tumbling down.

Then again, no one really cares when your makeup is good. Nothing is good enough to get people to care, no matter how hard you try, no matter what you look like. Even as a kid, you had to misbehave in order to get your parents’ attention.

“Interesting look,” your manager says as you walk to the stage. “Very avant garde.”

“Oh, be quiet,” you mumble.

“Hey, I never said it was a bad thing. My recent analysis shows it’s popular with the 18-24 demographic.”

You give him a sharp and sudden look. “You’re not messing with me or something?”

“‘Course not. Barbara BB, Grace Hirada, messy is stylish. Messy is a statement.”

Huh. Interesting. Maybe you should babysit Johanna more often. “You should tell my goddaughter that.”

Manager’s eyes light up with a warm sort of softness. “She… did the makeup?”

You chuckle. “Yeah.”

“That’s… really kind of you.” He sees your expression hasn’t changed from its usual coldness, so he pivots back to chipper business: “Well, that makes for a good story then. Bring it up to the reporters. Kids are marketable, and having a kid in your story makes people want to root for you more.”

You can see it now: Inspired by the support of her goddaughter Johanna, Ae-Cha is going to prove that dreams really do come true. The news loves to spin nothingburgers into inspiration or gossip. You’ve already got enough drama in the news before it’s detrimental, though: catfights with other Coordinators and DUIs need to be counterbalanced with sympathy.
“Famous before she even gets her trainer’s license."

Manager smiles. “You never know where she might end up.”

Maybe Johanna is onto something, then, if even Manager thinks her amateur makeup has a shot at fame. Maybe one day, she’ll be a Coordinator, just like you.

Maybe even better than you are.

She’s just a child, and she’s already better at makeup than you were at that age. She’s a child, and she’s already more ahead of the trends than you’ve ever been. She’s a child, and therefore someone who still has her whole life ahead of her, plenty of opportunities to become something worthwhile. And what are you? Some 24 year old fuck up. Can’t even get out of the beginner leagues of the Contest circuit. Spends her free time drinking until she can’t even drag herself out of the bar. Pathetic. You should just quit the Coordinator thing; even if you’re still a young adult, it’s clear now that you’ll never make it but Johanna—

Stop that. Do you hear yourself now? You’re jealous of, comparing yourself to a goddamn child. You’re making up fantasies in your head just to beat yourself up. That’s the pathetic part. Most pathetic idiots punch down on their kid relatives, “oh, at least I’m not as bad as my son”, “I’m more successful than my niece”, but instead you’re punching Johanna up. Maybe you would be more normal, more confident if you punched down.

But neither of those are really fair to Johanna.

“You’re up in five. Break a leg.”

Manager leaves you backstage, giving you time to prepare your Pokémon and get out of your thoughts. Johanna is her own person, separate from your own demons. If you drag Johanna down with you or punch her up and away… she might end up like you. The world doesn’t need more you’s, especially not her mom. The least you could do is keep that from happening. Maybe not by showing Johanna what a fuck up you are… no, she looks up to you; anything you do, she’ll do to.

You roll your shoulders, stretch your neck, breath in, breath out. It’s time to be someone Kohanna can look up to.

 

[Beth Pavell]

Content Warning: Implied Loss/Coping with the loss or departure of another.
Rated: Everyone.

Doubt, Friendship and Legacy​

Team MZ is organizing a Christmas party over at Hotel Z, and everyone is invited! But as they are putting the finishing touches on the hotel’s decorations, Urbain gets ambushed by a bitter memory…

-------------------------------------------

“And… done!”

Lida smiled happily as she finished setting the table in Team MZ’s meeting room. Today was a special day; the residents of Hotel Z decided to invite all of their friends for a Christmas party, and surprisingly, everyone accepted. The four of them had expected some of their more… eccentric friends to turn down their offer, but all of them had RSVPed, from Corbeau to Canari to even Jacinthe (though the latter stated that she would only join in on the festivities if she could hold “Le Super-Tournoi de Jacinthe de Noël”). Even the fact that all of Team MZ would be together was a pleasant surprise, what with Urbain being so busy lately with his duties as Quasartico Inc.’s new CEO.

“Hey, how are things going over there?” the aspiring dancer asked as she walked back into the hotel’s reception area.

“It’s going fine. Urbain and I just finished decorating the tree.” Naveen responded. “What do you think?”

Lida took a moment to take in the centerpiece of their celebration. The tall tree was carefully placed in the corner of the lobby and covered in decorations, garlands and baubles of all colors adorning its branches. In fact, maybe it was a little too colorful… but this gaudy look was very much like Team MZ, so the dancer simply smiled. “It looks great! But…” As she looked at the top of the tree, she noticed something. “We’re missing the star at the very top, aren’t we?”

“O-Oh, you’re right!” Naveen replied, surprised they forgot such an important detail. “Hey, Urbain, where’d it go?”

“...”

“...Helloooo? Earth to Urbain?” Naveen repeated, seeming concerned.

“A-Ah– um, sorry! I was… lost in thought. Yeah.” The light-haired Trainer replied, snapping out of it. “Hold on, I’ll go get a ladder so we can put it on. Lida, mind coming with me?”

“Uh– No problem!”

“Good idea. I’ll look for the star while you do that.”

“Thanks, Naveen! You’re the best!”



As the two young adults headed to the back of the hotel, they began to chat. “Hey, where’s Harmony, anyway? Shouldn’t she be helping out too?”

‘Well, you know how she is…” Lida replied. “She ran off somewhere again to try and find some new Pokémon.”

“Still!? Didn’t she complete the Pokédex, like, a month ago?”

“Yeah, but now she’s looking for Shiny Pokémon, I think… she might be enjoying the life of a Trainer a little too much, haha.”

“Ain’t that the truth!” Urbain replied, the two of them sharing a laugh. “Oh, here we are. The storage room.”

As he opened the door and turned on the light inside the dark room, the two began to look around, but they quickly discovered that there was no ladder to be found.

“Huh… this is weird…”

“Yeah! Like, don’t you need ladders in hotels all the time? What if a lightbulb goes out?” The dark-haired girl questioned.

“I guess– ah–” Urbain began, before cutting himself off as he sharply inhaled.

“Urbain? You alright?”

“...”

“H-Hey… what’s wrong?” Lida asked, seeing her friend curling in on himself, his back turned to her.

“I-I just…” The young man started, before taking a deep breath. “We don’t have a ladder because… he wouldn’t have needed one for stuff like that, right…?”

“Oh…” the dancer understood, crossing her arm over her chest. “I… guess so…”

“...”

“...Come on.” Lida took Urbain’s hand in hers, and led him away from the cramped room. “Let’s go to the rooftop.”

-----------------------------------------------------

“...” Urbain reluctantly sat down on one of the seats of the rooftop terrace, the decorated city lights below them. “...it’s cold.”

“...Yeah. I just thought some fresh air would do us some good… it’s pretty easy to find this time of year, too.”

“That’s true…”

“...”

“...it’s so… calm.”

“...Yeah. I guess everybody’s at home, preparing or celebrating.” Lida replied. “It’s like the world stopped moving.”

“It kind of feels like that all the time for me, these days.”

“...Me too.”

ding

“Ah–”

“What are you two doing out here? I’ve been waiting for you all this time!” Naveen began angrily as he stepped out of the elevator. “Everyone’ll be here soon, and– um… are you… okay?”

“...Sorry, Naveen. We just… got thinking about AZ, and…” Urbain forced out, trying not to cry.

“Oh. That’s… yeah.” The boy replied, unsure what to say. “I guess… in times like these, we often end up thinking about the past…”

“...Yeah.”

“...Lida, Naveen… do you think… he’s looking down at us with pride?”

“Urbain?”

“He left us behind with hopes we’d protect Lumiose and its people… but can we really do that? It’s a big city, and we all have our own aspirations… what if he’s rolling in his grave every time I sign off on something at Quasartico? Shouldn’t I be out on the field, helping people like I’m used to, instead of behind a desk?”

“So that’s what’s been on your mind…” Lida worried, looking at her friend’s serious face.

“I just… I look at Harmony, and how she’s always out and about, ready to help anyone with their concerns… and how she’s always got Floette by her side as she does so… and I just think, she’s the true successor to AZ, isn’t she?”

“...No, I can’t agree with that.” Naveen simply replied.

“Huh?”

“Think about it. What if you weren’t there, or you stayed where you were instead of moving on to lead Quasartico? With how things were after the whole business with Ange, I don’t think Jett could have kept leading the company either way. And without a figurehead, it might have crumbled to nothing.”

“Yeah! And with no one to maintain the holo-tech keeping the Wild Zones up and running, all the Pokémon that were led here by Ange would have overrun the city! Team MZ’s strong, but we’re not strong enough to deal with all that at once, all over the city…!”

“Not to mention people’s anger might lead to serious problems. Anyway, long story short… without you, we couldn’t do what we do, Urbain. You’re instrumental to Lumiose City’s continued peace.”

Wanting to seal the deal, Lida put her hand on Urbain’s shoulder, smiling. “AZ is proud of you just as much as the rest of us. I have absolutely zero doubt of that.”
“G-Guys… I…” Burying his face in his arm, Urbain tried to hide his tears. “Thank you so much…!”

“Anytime.”

“Team MZ’s got to look out for one another, right?”

“Yeah…!”

“HELLOOOOOO? ANYONE HOME?”

“Ah–” All three jumped as Ivor’s voice boomed through the air from the hotel’s entrance. “I guess our guests are here… let’s go.” Naveen simply stated, smiling.

“What are we gonna do about the star?”

“Couldn’t you use Mega Starmie to reach up there?”

“Oooooh, smart! You need a star to place a star, I guess!”

“Urbain? You coming?”

“...” The young CEO looked up at the stars for a moment, and smiled. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

“AZ… I’ll do my best to make you proud. I promise.”

 

[Welkamo]

Siblings (by @Jewel the Quaxly)

What an interesting story! There’s a lot of interesting character dynamics and lore at play here: Lucario’s anti Fairy type sentiments, his relationship with Mawile as a result of that, the two of them seemingly being adopted. I like stories about complicate or even downright hostile family relationships, so I found this to be a very interesting read.

That being said, all of that does make this story struggle to work as a one shot, in my opinion. I think that’s a cool thing, when my main or only critique of something is essentially “I want more of this,” because it means what there is is intriguing enough that I want to read more! But that does mean that a lot of the plot points seem too… ambitious, maybe, for a one shot. Finding out Audino has been faking being a Fairy type/implicitly murdering Fairy types(???) feels like the kind of thing that would be a whole arc in and of itself, but here it’s brought up suddenly at the end and not very long after we’re first introduced to the character, and as a result there isn’t a lot of time to develop that plot point. The scope also leaves Lucario’s racism (typism?) in a weird sort of position; it isn’t really addressed if it stems from, for example, his relationship with the Fairy types of his village, or systemic injustices and biases that Fairy types are deceitful and cowardly. To be fair, it’s pretty clear reading it that Lucario’s prejudice is meant to be read as a bad thing, so him not moving past it doesn’t read as the story not addressing the prejudice as a character flaw. But when the themes of not judging others based on what your elders taught you are this entangled with the character’s biases, when the prejudice isn’t addressed, it feels like a loose end that was meant to be tied up but wasn’t.

Very intriguing story. Glad to see you writing again!

 

[Jewel the Quaxly]

Siblings (by @Jewel the Quaxly)

What an interesting story! There’s a lot of interesting character dynamics and lore at play here: Lucario’s anti Fairy type sentiments, his relationship with Mawile as a result of that, the two of them seemingly being adopted. I like stories about complicate or even downright hostile family relationships, so I found this to be a very interesting read.

That being said, all of that does make this story struggle to work as a one shot, in my opinion. I think that’s a cool thing, when my main or only critique of something is essentially “I want more of this,” because it means what there is is intriguing enough that I want to read more! But that does mean that a lot of the plot points seem too… ambitious, maybe, for a one shot. Finding out Audino has been faking being a Fairy type/implicitly murdering Fairy types(???) feels like the kind of thing that would be a whole arc in and of itself, but here it’s brought up suddenly at the end and not very long after we’re first introduced to the character, and as a result there isn’t a lot of time to develop that plot point. The scope also leaves Lucario’s racism (typism?) in a weird sort of position; it isn’t really addressed if it stems from, for example, his relationship with the Fairy types of his village, or systemic injustices and biases that Fairy types are deceitful and cowardly. To be fair, it’s pretty clear reading it that Lucario’s prejudice is meant to be read as a bad thing, so him not moving past it doesn’t read as the story not addressing the prejudice as a character flaw. But when the themes of not judging others based on what your elders taught you are this entangled with the character’s biases, when the prejudice isn’t addressed, it feels like a loose end that was meant to be tied up but wasn’t.

Very intriguing story. Glad to see you writing again!

I think I ended up really liking the ideas I had in my head, and just ended up rolling with it...I got over-excited. XD I appreciate the specific criticism, however, because it's something I'll keep in mind if I ever revisit this idea in the future for some other fic. Mostly, what I wanted to focus on was the story of two siblings reconciling after years of unspoken pain defining their relationship. I ended up introducing a lot more moving parts than I should have, but I'm really happy that it was still intriguing and made you want to read more, rather than it feeling aversive, since this is still a gift fic.

I'm really trying to get back into writing again, and this story helped me a lot, I'd say! Thanks for the review!

 

[Welkamo]

Siblings by @Cavespider_17

Awww, this was sweet. It’s interesting reading an animeverse story from you; this is probably the most Cavecore animeverse fic I could have imagined. Something about the way you write Ash feels so… you, and I love that. I think the stakes were also very good, and a great way to explore a sort of “where are they now”.

I did feel that the Pokemon dialogue was a bit… I don’t know the word for it. Unnecessary? Redundant? Unintelligible but in a way that didn’t add much to the story? It’s a super minor thing that’s hard to verbalize, but especially in the scenes with Pokemon talking with Pokemon, having the dialogue be essentially unreadable felt weird. Maybe translating the dialogue when only Pokemon are in the conversation, or just focusing on the movement and actions, would work better.

 

[Cavespider_17]

Siblings by @Cavespider_17

Awww, this was sweet. It’s interesting reading an animeverse story from you; this is probably the most Cavecore animeverse fic I could have imagined. Something about the way you write Ash feels so… you, and I love that. I think the stakes were also very good, and a great way to explore a sort of “where are they now”.

I did feel that the Pokemon dialogue was a bit… I don’t know the word for it. Unnecessary? Redundant? Unintelligible but in a way that didn’t add much to the story? It’s a super minor thing that’s hard to verbalize, but especially in the scenes with Pokemon talking with Pokemon, having the dialogue be essentially unreadable felt weird. Maybe translating the dialogue when only Pokemon are in the conversation, or just focusing on the movement and actions, would work better.

I'm glad it read like a future interpretation as well as added stakes to the matter

Not gonna lie, Pokémon speak was a completely new realm for me - as I tend to write Pokémon with more animalistic actions and reactions - so this feedback is interesting and I will keep it in mind if I write Mon-Speak again. Thank you for the feedback as always Kamo