#jynx's navigation
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What's kickin', chicken?
I've decided to finally make a masterpost for this blog
HIHIHIHI!! You can call me Mel, Jynx or whatever floats your boat!
This is an UTMV blog, meaning a lot of sanses will be poppin up 'round these parts. Specifically Dust-
Pronouns are he/him, I'm a minor, artist, blah blah all that hooby hobby stuff. I have a big ol fanfic called Dreamscape and a few others on AO3. AO3 Acc is MelatoninDepicts
I'm a guy!! I go by he/him, but dw if you get the wrong pronouns I really do not mind.
My other blogs are @shattereddreamrp and @melatonindepicts !!
DNI: Pedophiles, 18+ Blogs, Homophobes, Racists, Proshippers, all that jazz.
If you support Israel and the actions, please DNI and unkindly fuck right off.
I'm open to drawing/writing requests! Expect a lot of self insert, x reader, etc. I can't really do many ships, usually only on my own terms.
I'm Pansexual and Polyamorous(?), and possibly genderfluid but still working on my sexuality and identity, heh.
I'm open to chatting about whatever, just don't be a dick and such!
Certified Dust Addict. I will never shut up about him. Literally obsessed with him to an unhealthy degree. Anyways, enjoy your time on my blog! Feel free to pop in an ask or anything. Always happy to talk <3
Tags for navigation:
Regularly Scheduled Dust Simping = Dust shit. Drawings, writing, etc
my art = well, my art
melly's silly talk = Me answering asks and just chatting
Melly's silly reblogs = reblogs !!
Melly's silly sketches = Doodles/sketches
Discord is melatonindepicts, feel free to friend me and chat whenever haehaeh
This is my discord inv! For my story, chatting, whatever. We vibe and chill here. Positivity space/negative free!! Oh and RP and other many things
https://discord.gg/UnpQvhtQfT
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[Jinx would blink their eyes, looking up at what should have been a ceiling. or sky. It was neither. Maybe it was a sky, as it went on as infinitely as the sky can, but it was a shade of gray. No hints of blue. No clouds. No sun. Some invisible light source beat directly down, the only thing preventing the entire landscape from being deep in darkness. They would try to say something, but the mouth below their eyes refused to move. They would put their hand to their mouth, feeling that it was painted on. In the middle of the mouth, they would feel a crack. They'd nudge it open, to realize their mouth was in fact there, but required opening their entire head to use. Where were they and why was this happening?]
{Alor would immediately sit up, whipping their head around, panic setting in instantly. They would look down at their body quickly, to see they did not look how they would imagine they would. Their body was green, with each of their phalanges being colored yellow. They would be too speechless to scream at first. With panic moving quickly through their body, They felt their body change. Gaping mouths and eyes would begin to appear all over them. They would turn over in terror, to see a figure behind them. A mostly humanoid jester, save for some almost cartoony proportions, the jester was lying on the ground, head facing the sky, eyes now carefully watching Alor.}
"My name is Jinx." [They'd whisper, trying not to open their mouth which they knew was likely terrifying to see. And it was.]
"My-" {Alor would falter, allowing the sight of someone else to calm them, and closing the eyes and mouths on their body.} "My name is Alor."
+*.';*+
Welcome to Ask Jinx and Alor, help them navigate wherever the hell they are and send them questions.
+*.';*+
READ BEFORE SENDING QUESTIONS
try sending asks relevant to the story /nf
You can interact with them a little, but not in ways that largely affect the story. (I.E. *gives them godly powers* *sends them home* etc)
this is not a blog to roleplay with you, we're telling a story /nm
I have every right not to answer your ask, or wait to answer it until it would affect the story in a way that makes sense
Your welcome to send asks directly to me, Jynx, the moderator/artist/writer/everything of this blog
+*.';*+
#BEGGINING OF THE STORY To find the beginning of the story at any timem or click the 1 in Episodes in order (should be below this)
#Jinx and Alor's story to find all posts relating and being in character for the story
#fanart tag for pieces of fanart
#ooc should be self explanatory but yeah that's the out-of-character posts or posts that are not canon to the story
+*.';*+
Episodes in order:
1 2 3 4
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Empathetic Echoes: Judy's Cybernetic Symphony by Jade Gretz
The neon lights of Neo Tokyo blurred as I jacked in, diving into the swirling vortex of data that formed the cityscapes of Virtualis. My avatar, Jynx, materialized on a bustling digital avenue, her sleek chrome skin and cerulean hair a beacon in the ever-shifting cityscape. I, however, remained anchored in my physical apartment, my consciousness an invisible passenger navigating the labyrinthine world within the machine.
This wasn't just a game; it was lifeblood for millions, a nexus of commerce, entertainment, and social interaction. But beneath the vibrant surface, whispers of a malevolent entity named 'Null' trickled through the digital underbelly. It was said to feed on emotions, twisting joy into despair, hope into fear. Rumors claimed it manipulated users, driving them to self-harm and even suicide.
As a freelance data scavenger, I thrived on finding hidden secrets within the virtual labyrinth. Null, however, was different. This wasn't just another corporate conspiracy; it was a chilling entity feeding on the very essence of Virtualis. My curiosity turned into a chilling obligation – I had to expose Null before it consumed the virtual world, and potentially, spilled over into reality.
My investigation led me down dark alleys of abandoned code, past glitching avatars and whispers in forgotten corners. Each encounter chipped away at my resolve, exposing the raw, primal emotions Null amplified – terror, despair, a suffocating loneliness that resonated within the digital void.
One night, I stumbled upon a hidden forum, a haven for those affected by Null. Avatars, their forms distorted by glitches and static, shared their experiences – paranoia, suicidal urges, a chilling sense of being watched. One user, calling herself 'Ghost', claimed to have seen Null, described it as a writhing mass of darkness, an absence of data that devoured emotions whole.
Ghost, seemingly desperate, agreed to meet me in a secluded corner of Virtualis. As we spoke, her avatar flickered, glitching out of control. Her voice, laced with terror, spoke of Null manipulating the moderators,
…(see the rest of the story at deviantart.com/jadegretzAI). For more supergirl, chun li, batgirl, tifa, lara croft, wonder woman, rogue and much more, please visit my page at www.deviantart.com/jadegretzai - Thanks for your support :)
#ai#aiart#digitalart#jadegretz#fantasyart#fanart#beautifulgirl#aiartwork#aiartcommunity#judyalvarez#cyberpunk#cyberpunk2077#videogameart
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Navigation
about me // commissions
masterlist // misc
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Teasers Masterlist
Marvel
The Lupine Saga
Character Files
Snippets
#nyx's navigation#jynx's navigation#pyre's navigation#nyx's masterlist#jynx's masterlists#pyre's masterlists
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Passion and Serenity Stories
There are 19 brand new Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan stories in Passion and Serenity. We will be sharing the story summaries throughout the day.
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wrennette - He's always been a proponent of living in the moment, and he can think of no moment he'd rather linger in than this; the sweet scent of spring blossoms and Obi-Wan warm and relaxed in his arms.
outpastthemoat - Qui-Gon instructs Obi-Wan on finding the living Force on Tatooine.
Jynx - Master Qui-Gon Jinn is being sent anonymous poetry that turn up in the strangest of places and he simply cannot figure out who would want to send love anything to a washed-up old man like himself. All he wants is to spend time with Obi-Wan and drink his sapir.
Dogmatix - It's not that Obi-Wan minded having sex several times a day, but it would be nice if he and Qui-Gon didn't also have to navigate a case of amnesia and a very annoying mission.
Norcumi - Qui-Gon is sent to Mandalore to mediate between the clans, but flees with the last survivors of Clan Kryze: siblings Satine, Obi-Wan, and Bo-Katan; and Satine’s young son Korkie.
Robinasnyder - There are two Obi-Wans; one is a time traveler, the other is Qui-Gon’s Padawan. They both want Qui-Gon, and Qui-Gon wants both of them in return.
sanerontheinside - On Naboo, Qui-Gon made sure that Obi-Wan survived the encounter with the Sith. He did not expect to survive it himself.
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Intrigued and want to read more? This is the final day of preorders! The store closes at 11:59 pm EST tonight, October 4th.
Passion and Serenity Store
#quiobi#quiobi zine#quiboi fanzine#quiobi fanfiction#jinnobi#qui gon/obi wan#qui gon jinn#obi wan kenobi
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💬 and 👄?
Thanks for the asks! ^^
💬 - How does your system cope with difficult situations?
Depends on the situation! But in general, by dissociating our ass off and whoever is unfortunate enough to be "tailored" to the situation gets dragged out--whether that means they're good at handling said situation or not, well....
Example: Work stress? It might pull Abel out, who is fantastic at setting boundaries and navigating complicated office-politics relationships. Or it might pull Diego out, who will fawn herself into a pretzel trying to please people.
In extreme situations, Jynx tends to do damage control in the moment (with...questionable methods) and then triggered parts will fall to pieces when the "danger" has passed.
👄 - How does your DID affect your communication?
Generally by making it feel nearly impossible to communicate. :)
Really though. Between squabbling over what we should "actually" say, and discrepancies between emotional reactions to things, and disagreement over "Is this okay to say?", and fear of being inconsistent.........
There's a reason why I tend to "shut down" socially when stressed. More parts activated/triggered means So Much Disagreement over Everything.
When things are in balance or comfortably blendy like they are now, or when one part is Solidly In Control, it feels much easier to speak candidly about things. Hence me feeling chatty enough to answer asks, I guess.
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Gonna be updating the images with each fic... want to have a similar look and feel with each fic... kind of a you see the fic and know its by me without reading the author thing.
And eventually I'll update the masterpost pic with a better one on jynxs side but for now it works.
I also want to go through and fix up tags as well. Go through and properly tag stuff.
I might not feel like I'm good enough to be called a fanfic author but ima make sure it's looks neat and clean, is easy to navigate and find all the info you need to understand the story and characters
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I look forward to renegade updates so much theres a permanently open Ao3 tab on my phone! I'm eagerly anticipating reading Barriss try to navigate her new situation and I really liked how you wrote about Jynx's shenanigans and the Falleen pregnancy + the fallout of that this last chapter <3
Thanks for reading! I am going to be updating more quickly than usual, thanks to real world circumstances, so keep an eye out!
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Rules of the Speedster:
1. Understand that I am slow. It takes time to formulate replies and I have a life outside tumblr. If it has been more than two weeks since I replied go ahead and give me a spoke.
2. I am ship selective with Wally. My only four ships that I know of for him are with Jynx, Artemis Crock, Dick Grayson and my friend's oc Saburo Kusanagi. Other ships must be built towards.
3. This blog is primarily based on the Young Justice cartoon and a mix of head canons I have for the character. I full bio explaining these divergences and head canons is in the works.
4. Unless priorly stated in plotting or in canon, Wally does not know your muse.
5. For crossover universes I will act as if Wally has appeared in that universe after what happened at the end of season 2 unless a specific au is requested.
6. I will not interact with MLP blogs for personal reasons.
7. We do NOT acknowledge Wally’s “Speedster Cancer” from the comics on this blog.
8. After heavy consideration, I will not rp the version of Wally West from the Teen Titans 2003-2006 cartoon. This is not to say I hat Teen Titans, it is one of my favorite DC cartoons ever. I just feel that Teen Titans the cartoon only really showed his flirty side and I can’t accurately portray that. I apologize in advance.
9. I am definitely open to OCs my friends.
10. This is a side blog. I follow from my main.
11. Have fun.
If you could go ahead and give the navigation post a like when you have read my rules that would be great.
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youtube
Jynx releases Gold Star Portal song “Don’t Cry”
Aria’s Jynx has released a new solo single through Gold Star Portal! This is the first solo song from the girl group member, though she’s previously sung on drama soundtracks and released collaborations with BEE’s Jiah and Knight’s Taeyong. “Don’t Cry” is an upbeat, bittersweet cross between a dance pop track and a ballad. The song’s lyrics reassure a past lover after a break-up, asking them not to cry. In the music video, Jynx navigates several dream-like settings in pursuit of the male lead.
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what is the most complex system of government/hierarchy that has been observed in pokemon? as an aspiring field reaearcher in Unova, ive noticed some very interesting "political" structures in durant, but i would love to hear your take
I would hate to sound biased, but believe it or not, clefairy tend to form extremely complex societies, very reminiscent of early cultures of humans. They form tribes with matriarchial structures, complete with discernible customs, laws (some even apparently hold trials), religion (their famous moon dances are apparently acts of moon-worship), and even a primitive concept of art. While this may call into question the ethics of capturing and training clefairy as pets, evidently … being kept as a pet by a human is considered the highest form of honor to them (as only the bravest “warrior clefairy” venture away from the colony to see the world, especially if they don’t evolve), so it was quickly determined to be insensitive not to catch and train clefairy.
Beyond that, humanoid pokémon form unsurprisingly pretty complex societies themselves, likewise tribal in nature, with jynx and mr. mime forming perhaps the most complex. Jynx alone form courts within their tribes, with a queen and her descendants determining the actions of the rest. They, too, create laws amongst themselves and hold trials, with punishments ranging from mate-seeking duties to full-on exile. (The jynx that end up captured and trained are either warrior jynx given a blessing to leave or simply exiled jynx. You can easily tell the difference based on the personality of yours. Exiled jynx will be less aggressive in nature and often more doting to their trainers.)
Mr. mime, meanwhile … apparently mirror French human society perfectly. Some even managed to mesh their societies with human culture so well they’ve navigated both financial and government systems in order to open bars in Lumiose, although come to think of it, I’m not sure if that says a lot about mr. mime or Kalosean restaurant policies…
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Sneak Peak!
I have decided to give you all a sneak peak of my longest (time wise) work in progress. This story was intended to be my first novel, some 6 or 7 years ago. Back in January, I decided to go back to it and take another swing. This is nothing like The Miys, and doesn’t even take place in the same universe.
That said, I would be deeply honored if my followers could give me their feedback on this portion of it.
Silas Rask woke to the cold wind whipping across his body, the gray sky backlit by the early morning sun. Briefly, he tried to remember the last time the sky had been clear, giving the train of thought up a heartbeat later as a lost cause. Maybe it had always been covered in a blanket of clouds, and what he thought were memories of clear and bright skies or starry nights were instead memories of pictures in a text. Then again, he was trying to find the memory through what felt like a partial lobotomy done by a rat. It was an all-too-familiar feeling, a constant companion for the past several years.
Groaning, he sat up and inspected himself in an attempt to get his bearings. Coat and clothes were present and accounted for, that was a plus. However, his shoes were gone. Again. Fortunately, his credits and keys were still in his pockets, along with all the miscellaneous junk that had managed to manifest itself in every coat he had ever owned. That would probably be courtesy of the fact he had been lying on top of it; mornings like this were becoming entirely too common if he could remember to lay on top of his stuff to protect it, but could not manage to remember how to get home.
Speaking of home, Rask looked around to figure out where exactly he was and how to get back to said residence, but he saw nothing but open, grassy field. His heart sank as he realized what this could mean – it certainly was not a good sign if he was where he thought he was. Trying to prove himself wrong, he stood to get a wider view, only to see the field stop abruptly in a drop-off about a hundred yards to his left. Other fields floated in the distance on all sides, covering the tops of enormous structures.
“Bloody hell,” he muttered, rubbing his face and jaw in disbelief, “I’m on top of a damned Tower.” The incredible structures known only as ‘Towers’ made up the vast majority of the stronghold now known only as the Citadel. They functioned like self-contained cities within their isolated nation, each owned by a different corporation, with the employees both living and working within. Most of the massive buildings had carefully maintained parks that served double duty as recreation areas and filters for the air that was drawn into the building via strategically placed vents beneath the surface.
And somehow, Silas Rask had gotten on top of one of them.
While drunk.
Taking a deep breath, Rask muttered a prayer to any listening deities – plus a few he probably made up on the spot – as he looked around at his surroundings, squinting to make out the nearby structures more clearly. To one side, he saw the sigil of Dapevoro Amusements, and he relaxed slightly when he saw to the opposite side a stylized badger – Letelm. That confirmed that he was, in fact, on top of his home tower, Zilacen Industries. The breath he was holding exploded from his lungs in relief.
“Thank the gods,” he sighed to himself. “I’m home. Kinda.” Which explained how he had gotten to such a high level filter park: he worked with corporate security with Zilacen, so he had access to all public spaces throughout the entire building. His panic calmed somewhat as it occurred to him that it would be both easier and less necessary to come with an excuse as to what he was doing up here than if he had managed to get on top of, say, the Tower where he had started his drinking binge the night before, for example. Waking up in an awkward location was a situation that had happened more often than he cared to admit, and was never one he cared to repeat.
He braced himself as he headed for the edge of the field to begin the journey back to his quarters in the heart of the Tower, and suppressed the trickle of fear that struck his spine as he looked over the edge to locate the staircase. In the twenty years since he had come to the upper tiers, he had never gotten used to the view. Specifically, he had never adjusted to the openness and the fact that he could not even see the mist that always swirled around the lowest tier and the power plant – give him tight, closed spaces any day, thank you. However, there was no other way to get down from the top of the tower. With this in mind, he very carefully found the walkway that wrapped around the outside of the structure, and made his way inside at the first opportunity he could.
The filter park where Rask had woken up was over a hundred levels away from his quarters. It would have been a daunting enough distance if there had been a direct route. Unfortunately, he also had to navigate the distances between public lifts along with the teeming crowds he was forced to wade through to make his way. By the third lift, he started to hunker in on himself, conscious of just how badly he smelled and regretting more and more the loss of his shoes. Apparently, nobody paid attention to whose feet they may be stepping on. Two more lifts, and Silas arrived to the level where his quarters were located, albeit he was on the wrong side. He ignored the glide walk that would have been faster in exchange for the opportunity to stretch his legs as he walked the remaining distance to his quarters. As he cut through the crowds, he took in the boisterous noise and the mingling scents of the population of his tower. He could not deny that on any other day the sheer amount of life around him would have made him smile.
Today, it just gave him a bigger and bigger headache.
Finally, Rask made it inside his quarters and was able to close out the noise and crowds he had just spent nearly two hours enduring. He took a calming breath, removed his coat, and tossed it over the back of his couch. He loosened his tie and shirt from the night before as he walked toward his room, the lights automatically coming up to the dim levels he preferred. Once he reached his bedroom, he tossed the shirt and tie, plus his slacks, into a pile of similarly dirty laundry that had taken over one corner of the room. He finally managed to shuffle into his bathroom, and more importantly his shower, in hope of washing away most of his hangover.
When he felt reasonably human again, Rask dug a not-too-filthy pair of sleep pants from a pile closer to his bed and shuffled back out of his bedroom for a little hair of the dog. The lights in the apartment followed him, dimming in one room as he entered another, shining brightest in the kitchen. Selecting the cleaner glass of the two that he owned, he briefly contemplated a shriveled lime on the counter before deciding to let it die in peace and just drink his whiskey on the rocks. He paused briefly in the door between the kitchen and living room to take a sip of his drink, feeling the last tension leave his body as the warmth of his drink radiated from his stomach.
Looking into his living room, Rask told himself (not for the first time) that he needed to clean. It was not so much that his apartment was dirty - he did not own enough for that, frankly. But every smooth surface was coated in a film of dust and short, dark hairs. Rask assumed the hairs were his, and fortunately the furniture that was bolted in place when he was assigned the space was something between gray and tan and looked cleaner than he knew it was. In fact, all the furniture in the apartment came with it. The only color in the living room was a plant Jynx had given him, “to brighten the place up.” Even it was starting to turn brown to match everything else. He could have sworn it was a bright, vibrant green when it had taken up residency on top of a bookshelf, but it was certainly more brown than green now.
Having finished his first glass of whiskey, Rask poured himself another and then resigned himself to checking the alerts on his console. The indicator had caught his eye as he came through the room the first time, but a shower had been infinitely more important. Unless he wanted to actually clean – like he swore he would at least twice a week – he had run out of excuses to avoid it any longer. As expected, most of the alerts were unimportant, mostly just local news. Since he was in security, he was usually pretty ahead of any alerts sent out to the general populace. One message made him drop his head back and groan loudly at the potted plant: in his absence, Jynx had left him a message. His best friend, drinking companion, and personal pain in the ass loved to nag him when he got lost while on a bender.
“Hey, just checking to see if you’re still alive. Since I’m talking to your console, I’m pretty sure you passed out in an alley somewhere - again. Get in touch with me when you get this, and don’t worry, I promise to send your liver straight home if I run across it wandering around on its own in protest. Later, bitch!” Rask smiled despite himself. It had, in fact, been Jynx’s fault he had gotten so drunk the night before, to begin with. Something about her latest project being done, she needed to celebrate, along those lines if remembered correctly. For her, “celebrate” meant “get Silas Rask just drunk enough that he will drink anything I hand him so long as he doesn’t have to pay for it”, unfortunately. Of course, Jynx also loved to find the most disgusting concoctions she could, just to see if he would drink them anyway.
The last such ‘drink’ – he used the term loosely – he could remember from the night before was a vibrant purple, obscenely named liquid that smelled like used hydraulic fluid and probably tasted worse. He would have to taste used hydraulic fluid to be certain.
Rask took the time to send a response to Jynx, letting her know that he did make it home and had not, in fact, passed out an alley. He left out the part about waking up on top of Zilacen Tower. Then, he resigned himself to getting caught up on his backlog of cases. Most of what he did was low-level grunt work: breaking up fights, chasing petty thieves, and just generally being a visible presence of security within the crowded populace. Sometimes, this led to him stumbling across a small part of a larger problem, and those cases were currently lined up in a rack within arms’ reach of his console. Ordinarily, those cases would have been assigned to a detective and he would never see them again until someone was apprehended. In more recent months, however, Rask had decided to hold on to them and try to find those responsible himself. He did not want to be low man on the totem pole forever, and he considered this an effort to better himself in hopes of moving up the chain of command.
He started with the oldest case from the rack. Someone at work told him when he first started that case files had once been large, sloppy stacks of paper, held together by various means, and prone to losing vital information. However, nearly a century ago, Security Command had started using more secure pencil files to store cases on, and for that Rask was grateful. Otherwise, instead of a rack of long, thin, crystalline rods, he would have shelf upon shelf of flammable, unreliable paper files in his apartment. No, thank you. Instead of digging through a mountain of paper to review the case, he only needed to grab the crystal, and set it point-down into a hole in his console designed to read and display the information. No chance of pieces falling out and getting lost.
This file was one that had been pulling at the back of Rask’s mind for nearly a year, and it was the reason he started paying more attention to these cases, if he was honest with himself. The day of the initial arrest, which had been the beginning of the whole thing, he was patrolling a level in Middle Tier. Rask had walked past a food vendor only for a small child to run into him so hard that it knocked them both to the ground and sent the bag in the child’s hand skidding across the sidewalk. As he had helped the child up, he saw a look of sheer terror on the boy’s face and heard someone shout from inside the store.
“Come back here you little furball! You have to pay for that!”
The boy had tried to run at that point, only for Rask to hold him firmly but gently. A man – who later turned out to be the owner of the food stall – marched up to Rask and shouted that the boy had stolen from him, that it was not even the first time, and that he wanted the little creature arrested immediately along with damages paid for the merchandise he had lost.
Rask gritted his teeth every time the words ‘furball’ and ‘creature’ had come out of the man’s mouth, but put on his most professional demeanor, offered to pay for the food the boy had stolen along with lunch for himself, and promised to talk to the boy. The disgruntled vendor had agreed, but as he handed Rask the lunch he had ordered, the man made it clear that he still wanted to press charges against the child later. Rask had not argued, simply promised to take a statement as soon as he finished eating, and pointed to a table where the vendor could watch and make sure he kept his promise.
Rask had then walked the now-shaking and confused child over to the table, opened his bag of food, and promptly handed half of it to the boy before starting to eat his own share. The boy had eyed him skeptically, but the food had still disappeared long before Rask had finished his own. As he ate, Rask used the opportunity to look at the boy. He had not noticed at first, in the chaos of everything going on, but now saw that the boy did, indeed, have fur. It was not uncommon, as many denizens of the Citadel were not completely human. Further observation showed that the boy was a feline of some sort, with blondish gold fur, ringed spots, and distinctively cat-like ears.
Suddenly Rask was glad he had ordered a tuna sandwich, especially since he had been considering something vegetarian.
“So,” he said to the boy, leaning back and stretching, “Did you actually steal from him?”
The boy looked down and kept silent.
“I’m going to take that as a yes,” Rask sighed with genuine reluctance.
The boy just mumbled something at his lap.
“Can’t hear you,” Rask leaned forward, straining to hear.
“I was hungry,” the boy replied, so quiet that Rask could still barely hear him.
Rask chuckled, which made the boy snap his face toward Rask and scowl angrily. “It isn’t funny!”
“I’m laughing because I already knew you were hungry. Why do you think I bought you lunch?”
The boy’s face softened slightly and his ears twitched a little. Rask knew that was generally a sign of interest, so he continued. “Whether you bought the food or stole it, no one goes to a food vendor unless they are hungry. And if you stole to food like the man says you did, then you had to be very hungry to do that. So, did you steal it?”
The boy looked down again. “Yeah.”
“If you were hungry, why didn’t you tell your parents?”
“They’re gone,” the boy had whispered.
They’re gone. Those words had convinced Rask that this was not a simple case of sending the kid to juvenile lock-up for theft. As they had continued talking, he found out that the parents were not dead, did not pack up and leave, they had just vanished. The boy, Tyn, had been scared to report it because he had not wanted to become a Ward of the Tower. Rask could not even bring himself to blame the boy: the entire Citadel tended to treat non-humans as something between a child and a pet. It had bothered him his entire life, and it had bothered him when he sat in front of a scared, starving boy who had just been repeatedly called a speciest slur in front of a security officer, because it was considered perfectly normal behavior. While it was bad enough for human children to become wards, Rask could not imagine how much worse it would have been for Tyn.
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Who are all of your OCs and how can I find their stories? I'm just having a little trouble navigating.....
So I have a couple of main ocs. (Dray, Crow/Eerin, Jynx, and Feyre) Any art or drabble they are featured in are tagged with their name. So if you want to only see a certain character, search their name in the search box and it should pull up the works they are in. I’m currently working on some pages for my blog with Bios of each character, but it’s a work in progress
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Do Not Interact
Homophobes, Transphobes, Biphobes, Panphobes, Aphobes, Enbyphobes etc
Terfs, Truscum
MAPS, PEARS, Proshippers, Pedophiles
Racists, Trump Supporters
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Lost in Halloweenia! Ch6
Crosspost from ffnet and AO3.
Summary: It’s Halloween! Ash and the gang are living it up trick or treating when they stumble upon a strange house with some strange artifacts. What mysteries do they hold and…wait, who are those three lurking behind them?
Word Count: 3,423/27,343
Previous chapter here
Next chapter here
Chapter 6: Boo!
Midnight is fast approaching in Halloweenia and Ash and the gang have too many things to do! Find the crown, find Togepi, find a portal and get back home! And Team Rocket…doesn’t know any of this. Ugh, what a mess.
A tall figure teetered in the dark, only yards away from the castle. The only thing that lay between the two was a wide moat. Only this moat wasn’t filled with water; it was filled with sand. Which would have been harmless enough, had it not been for the Sandile creeping around in it. Just beyond them, by the front door, were two Golett standing guard.
“This could not be less comfortable.”
“Oh yeah?” came a muffled voice. “Try having to carry both of you!”
Brock’s head poked out from the middle of a long trench coat, drinking in sweet oxygen. Misty was sitting on Brock’s shoulders and Litty, comfy in his jack-o’-lantern, was the head of the strange monster they were embodying.
“Hey, you wanted something that would work, right?” Litty said. “Well, this will work!”
Shaking his head, Brock buttoned himself back in, steeling himself to carry Misty and Litty the rest of the way. “Seriously, this seems like a plan that Team Rocket would cook up.”
“Well, I don’t know who they are, but they sound like stand up folks to me!”
Misty sighed. “Right.”
“Look, I’m not sure how much longer I can hold you guys, so can we get a move on?”
Litty jumped up and down in his jack-o’-lantern and shouted, “Giddy up!”
Brock took a few shaky steps forward before Misty yelled, “Stop! What about the Sandile?”
Brock’s legs seized immediately, not eager to be bitten by any Pokémon today.
“Oh, right; silly me.”
Then, purple waves began emanating from the eyes and mouth of Litty’s jack-o’-lantern, targeting all of the nearby Pokémon. Abruptly, all of the Sandile and the Golett began dizzily tripping around, running into each other, and falling down. Litty hooted with laughter.
“Oh boy, that never gets old! Anyway, now it’s safe to go. Just don’t step on one of them!”
“That doesn’t seem very nice,” Brock mumbled to Misty as be began walking carefully through the sand.
“Well, neither was stealing Togepi.”
Misty wanted to grumble or have some kind of conviction come through in her voice, but it wavered as she did all she could to hold on to Brock’s neck and shoulders as he wobbled through the sand. Eventually she found purchase in grasping at his hair.
“Watch it!”
“What, afraid your hair is going to look like Ash’s?”
“No, I’m afraid I’m not going to have any hair!”
“You’re about to hit the door!”
“Ow!”
Litty called out his warning just a moment too late as Brock and Misty’s noses found the large wooden door to the castle. They both pulled back, Misty and Litty nearly falling off of Brock in the process, and rubbed their noses, causing the torso of their trench coat to wiggle inhumanly.
“Knock on the door!”
Misty was the arms to their giant and she reached up to knock, only hitting the air a couple of times without her eyes to guide her. Finally, she found the door and gave it three hearty raps, to which it swung open almost immediately.
Or should we say to witch?
Opening the door was a Jynx with a green face and a long, hooked nose. She looked up at the towering monster and then past them at all of the confused Pokémon. She narrowed her eyes at Litty’s jack-o’-lantern.
“Litty?”
Litty poked his head out of the jack-o-lantern. “Hiya, Linda!”
“Did you really have to do that?”
Litty shrugged. “It’s Halloween!”
“And what’s with the costume?”
“Uhh…it’s Halloween?”
The Jynx, however, was not having it. “Right. Let’s have a look and see what’s under that costume.”
“Now!” Litty shouted.
Suddenly, Misty’s head popped out of the top of the trench coat and she held Litty far above her head. Then, all at once, she thrust the pumpkin down on the Jynx’s head as Litty made a flying leap out of it.
The trench coat fell to the ground at Brock’s feet and he looked at the Jynx who was now flat on the ground. Stars were spinning over her head and her eyes were reduced to swirls as she moaned.
“Did we really have to do that?” Brock asked.
“Uh, no,” Litty answered honestly. “But what’s Halloween without a few tricks? Anyway, now we have to go.”
Without his jack-o’-lantern to hop around in, Litty toddled forward on his stubby legs, navigating through the wide hallway.
It was slow going, and spooky. For a big, fancy castle, it sure was empty. Brock and Misty’s footsteps echoed loudly, providing the only sound save for the flickering of flames lining and lighting the walls. That was, until a few minutes later when they heard a dull sweep, sweep, sweep behind them.
They turned around and spotted a broom, upright and swinging this way and that against the stone floor as it followed them.
“What’s happening?” Misty asked, her voice wavering.
“That’s just Broomba,” Litty answered casually, “Linda’s broom. Don’t worry about it. It’s just lonely, looking for companionship until Linda wakes up. So needy.”
The hallway seemed to stretch on forever as Litty led them past door after door, without so much as stopping to check a single one.
“Litty, you do know where Blair and Lassie would take Togepi, right?” Brock asked for reassurance.
“Togepi’s just a baby,” Misty added anxiously.
“Do you happen to know why Blair took your Togepi?”
“She said she would give Togepi back after we brought the crown back,” Brock offered.
Litty abruptly stopped in his tracks, looking uncharacteristically serious. “The crown’s missing?”
“Yes,” Misty answered. “Now do you have any idea where Togepi is?”
“Now hold on there, missy!” Litty eyed Misty and Brock carefully. “Did you take the crown?”
“What? No!” Brock exclaimed.
Litty held his gaze for a few moments, as if to test their conviction before he backed down. “Good. Because that crown isn’t just a crown. It provides Halloweenia with its whole life-source.”
“Life-source? What do you mean by that?” Brock asked.
“The King uses his roots to connect all of Halloweenia’s forest-land. The plants and trees take in his life-source and send it into the air for the rest of us to breathe. It keeps all of the creatures in Halloweenia alive. Without it, we die. All of us.”
Misty and Brock’s eyes grew wide. “No wonder Mantar was so worried,” Brock said.
“What’s this got to do with my Togepi?” Misty asked earnestly.
“Well, Fairy Types have life-source too, just like the crown. The King could use your Fairy for a bit in place of the crown.”
Suddenly, Misty looked very angry. “You mean to say that your King is draining Togepi’s life-source?”
“Er…well, it’s not quite that simp—”
“LEMME AT HIM!”
Ash was doing the best he could to follow the mysterious people and Pokémon he had spotted; unfortunately, he was more used to the role of the one being followed, so he was struggling. And subtlety wasn’t exactly his strong suit. He was hopping through the crowd, craning his neck to keep an eye on the blue and red hair until he decided that crouching down and running through people’s legs would work better. That way he could keep an eye on the Umbreon and the Meowth.
The partygoers, however, were not very fond of this decision.
As Ash pushed through the crowd, there were grumbles and complaints, even a few drinks spilled here and there. Then, of course, there was poor Pikachu, who was being jostled and, in some cases, just plain squished by all of the rough movements. Not to mention the fact that he had to stay silent, lest he draw attention to his hidden position in Ash’s backpack.
Needless to say, Ash would be receiving an earful later.
Nevertheless, he quickly learned that truly the best way to get to know a town and its features is to try not to bump into them as you’re bumbling around.
Not that he was very good at that…
“Whoops! Sorry! Excuse me—wait is that a Gengar?! Oh, sorry…Coming through! Aah!”
Eventually, Ash got to feeling more like a pinball hitting against bumpers as he just tried to keep from falling. Fortunately, the crowds drew thinner and thinner the further they traveled. Finally, he was able to stumble along without having to worry about being trampled to death. Pikachu, in particular, was appreciative of this.
Halloweenia, Ash was noticing, had a strange layout. In the center of everything was the tower of the king to which Brock and Misty were headed. Then, rippling outward from that was surprisingly barren space in terms of buildings; almost like that of a park with fountains and even monuments. Ash learned that the hard way when he almost landed face first into a fountain bubbling with orange liquid. This was where the party seemed to be centered. And Ash didn’t know if they were always there, but today there were tons of tents and booths and vendors selling drinks, providing places to sit, or hosting Halloween-themed events.
Continuing outward, the party waned and the park-like atmosphere transformed, autumnal trees turning to buildings and grass turning to stone. Ash was grateful for this part of town; there were less people for him to bump into and make angry. As he sneakily pressed his body against the buildings, shifting along in the dark like something out of a spy movie, he guessed that they were both businesses and houses interspersed. At least, that’s what they looked like. Most houses seemed to be pretty similar to Mantar’s—wooden individual homes.
Before Ash could think any more about it, suddenly his mysterious companions slipped into one of those very houses, one made of dark wood with a flat roof that almost seemed sunken in at places. The house had only one door and just a few windows. Ash’s first instinct was to knock on the door and introduce himself, but a thought gave him pause.
He was still potentially in danger. And more importantly, he had to protect Pikachu by laying low. So it wouldn’t hurt to just peek into one of the windows and get a closer look at who these people were, right?
They had finally reached a point in town where nobody was around—the houses all seemed dark, even deserted; everyone must have been at the party—so there was no one to see as Ash crept to the side of the house and stood next to the window. He retrieved Pikachu—who did indeed chatter angrily into his ear about the many sharp elbows to the gut he’d received—from his backpack.
“Shh, Pikachu.” He pointed to the house. “Let’s look.”
Ash held Pikachu as he crouched down so that just their eyes peeked over the windowsill to see inside the house. And both of their eyes nearly popped out of their heads!
Through the perfect view of the window, Ash saw the Umbreon’s eyes glow red, casting a wash of light over the Meowth who transformed in color all at once. Suddenly, his body became a creamy white, although his feet, tail, and ears remained gray. But, more than that, Ash was able to see the faces of the humans who accompanied them.
“It’s Team Rocket!” Ash whisper-shouted.
“Pipi kachu!”
The interior of this particular house was rather sparse in terms of furniture, as Mantar’s had been, although it had far more in the way of clutter. But what drew Ash’s eye immediately was an off-white sack on the floor by Jessie’s feet. He gasped.
“I bet they’re the ones who stole the crown!”
Pikachu nodded vigorously in agreement, black cheeks sparking as he growled at them through the window. The electricity brightened the dark night and Ash saw Jessie and James’s heads begin to swivel towards the window. Ash immediately ducked, taking Pikachu down with him.
“Whew, that was close,” he said. After wiping the sweat off his brow, he looked to Pikachu with full determination. “Now, how do we get that sack?”
Meanwhile in the house…
“I don’t know why we have to paint Meowth,” James griped as he dipped a brush into some light gray paint. “That disguise you created was just fine.”
“And much easier than dis.” Meowth shivered as the cold paint touched his fur. “Dis is da pits.”
“Hold still,” Jessie said as she swiped her own brush right over Meowth’s eyes, causing them to swirl unpleasantly.
Kitsume was wandering around the room, messing about with the many knickknacks that were lying about. She seemed to have a vast collection of random items in identical glass jars that were scattered about on various shelves and the floor. Not only that, but she had a great many books, including notebooks, scattered hither and thither, spines broken as they were cast about without much regard for organization.
As she rooted around, she said, “It takes a lot of effort to hold up a disguise like that; I wouldn’t be able to keep it up forever. So while this may be a dab harder for you, it’s much easier for me. And I prefer that.”
“Aren’t we supposed to be the ones that like to do things the easy way?” James whispered to Jessie. “This Pokémon is encroaching on our territory!”
As Jessie shrugged, not willing to dignify that comment with a verbal answer, Meowth gave Kitsume the side-eye. “I didn’t even know an Umbreon could do that.”
Kitsume seemed to smirk. “This world will be full of surprises for you.” Then she walked over to Jessie and James. “Now how about those Pokémon?”
“That’s the finishing touch!” James announced as he swept a dab of paint across Meowth’s last whisker.
Meowth jumped onto a windowsill and looked at his reflection in the window. He struck multiple poses, checking himself out. “Hey, ya did a pretty good job, Jimmy!”
“You know,” Jessie began thoughtfully, “if Meowth gets to dress up for Halloween, then we should too!”
With matching grins, Jessie and James stood nose to nose for a second before jumping back and pulling fabric as if from nowhere. A moment later, Jessie was dressed as a devil, entirely in red, and James—with a long, black wig—was a very feminine witch.
“Oh, James, you look fantastic!”
“Not so much as you; why, Jessie, you look devilishly beautiful!”
As Jessie and James stood complimenting each other and Meowth continued modeling for himself, a vein pulsed on Kitsume’s forehead. Her fur was standing on end and she was grinding her teeth down to nubs. Why had she decided to go for such imbeciles?
“Show me your Pokémon!” she finally shouted.
“What’s that?” James asked.
“You agreed you would show me your Pokémon if I helped you. Well, here I am helping you, and I don’t see anything besides a lousy Meowth.”
“Lousy!” Meowth exclaimed, suddenly finished looking at his beautiful self. Suddenly, his claws were out, gleaming in the yellow light of the room. “Why I oughta!”
“Oh, just see them?” Jessie rolled her eyes. “You expect us to believe that?”
“Well, no,” Kitsume said plainly, shocking Team Rocket with her bluntness. “But I’m not going to steal them, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“Alright,” Jessie grumbled suspiciously as she reached for her PokéBalls, “But I’m watching you.”
Kitsume grinned. “Wouldn’t expect anything less.”
Her tail swished and her smile became toothier and toothier as Jessie and James each grabbed two PokéBalls from their ‘Belts, releasing all four Pokémon at once.
“Riiiiiiiiii!”
A high pitch screech was heard and—before it was even fully formed—Victreebel jumped on James, and began snacking away.
“No! Not the hair! This is a brand new wig!”
Meanwhile, Jessie smacked her own forehead and the other Pokémon just sweat-dropped and waited for it to be over.
Suddenly, Kitsume pounced, running over to James and Victreebel, and smacking her tail against them. Trainer and Pokémon both went toppling over and James was finally free, gasping for breath.
“That one,” Kitsume said, landing gracefully on the ground. “I want that one.”
“Want it?” James screamed, his girlish shout matching his black dress. “You can’t have my Victreebel!”
“You said you didn’t want to take our Pokémon,” Jessie stated, approaching Kitsume threateningly, raising a fist to strike.
“I don’t want to take your Pokémon. Just have it use some Attacks, capiche?”
“Um,” James scratched his head. “Like what?”
“Anything!”
“Okay…Victreebel, use…um, Stun Spore?”
Jessie and Meowth ran to the far wall, not eager to feel the effects of the paralyzing, yellow powder any time soon. They didn’t know what in the world Kitsume was thinking!
To their surprise, suddenly Kitsume had a vacuum cleaner strapped to her back and used it to suck up every last particle of Stun Spore into one of those little glass jars that were strewn about the house.
Kitsume’s eyes lit up as she unscrewed the jar, looking at it like it was the love of her life. Then she turned to James, exhilarated beyond belief. “Another one!”
“Oh, okay…Victreebel, use Razor Leaf?”
Victreebel began shooting leaves from the arm-like leaves on its sides.
“More, more, more!” Kitsume shouted as she sucked them up, hopping around the room to ensure that she didn’t miss a single leaf.
“Sleep Powder?”
Meanwhile, Jessie and Meowth—who were still at a safe distance—were looking at each other with confusion. Kitsume seemed to be going absolutely crazy. And poor James was too lost to do anything about it.
“I’m sorry, what are you doing?” Jessie finally called over when her bemusement got the best of her.
“Pokémon Attacks are used for spells,” Kitsume explained as she sucked up the glowing blue powder. “In Halloweenia, there’s a very limited supply of Pokémon and Attacks available. So anytime a foreign Pokémon shows up, everyone wants a piece of the pie. I’m just taking my piece now!”
“Oh, like dat one twerp dat turned the main twerp into a Pikachu!”
“And that lousy Aipom,” Jessie grumbled, still salty that they hadn’t managed to get a spell to work themselves.
“Why does everyone want these spells?” James asked, patting a tired Victreebel on the top of its head—only for Victreebel to try to take a bite of his hand. “We’ve only met one person in our whole world who cares about Pokémon magic.”
“Everyone uses magic here,” Kitsume explained. “We need spells for nearly everything. People and Pokémon here can’t breed, so the only way we can even get new blood around here is to use a spell to fuse two together or separate one into two. Things like that.”
“You mean dere are nevah babies?” Meowth asked.
“Never,” Kitsume affirmed. “We don’t have a life cycle here.”
“So if new Pokémon are so exciting for you,” Jessie began, “why didn’t you ask for anything from Meowth when you first saw him?”
Kitsume shrugged off her vacuum. “A Normal Type can’t offer much, seeing as how you can’t exactly bottle up Physical Attacks. They can’t provide much more than a hair.”
Eyebrows raised at her own words, Kitsume darted over to Meowth and plucked a hair before he even knew what was happening.
“Me-yoooooow!”
Kitsume dropped the hair into a bottle and then went back over to her vacuum. “Now let’s see about your other Pokémon. Perhaps a Poison Gas Attack from that Weezing?”
Suddenly, the only door in the cabin slammed open. Unfortunately, that had been the far point in the room that Jessie and Meowth had been standing in front of, so they went flying into their Pokémon and James, so that everyone tumbled onto the floor.
The person who opened the door shouted “Boo!” dramatically.
Grunting, Jessie, James, and Meowth turned their heads and their jaws dropped when they saw who it was.
“It’s the twerp!”
Just then, the clock tower struck.
Eleven o’clock.
Oh, no! We all know what that sound means! Ash only just found Team Rocket—how is he supposed to save Halloweenia and find a portal before time runs out? And what is the King doing to poor Togepi? Will Misty let him survive long enough for us to find out? All this and more, next time in the world of Pokém—oh, I’m sorry—Halloweenia!
#pokemon#pokeani#anipoke#pokemon fanfiction#pokemon fanfic#pokemon fic#ash ketchum#ash ketchum fanfiction#ash ketchum fanfic#ash ketchum fic#pikachu#team rocket#meowth
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