#lapras lounge
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Green Lights with Gay Catsby
A reflection on the inability to hit the gas, from the perspective of one of my OCs (a Shinx girl working in a cabaret lounge, hopelessly in love with the headliner).
I pop open the door of my car, getting set to head down to the Lounge for tonight's shift. I turn the key in the ignition, and the engine chuffs at me, rattling, but not starting. The old girl usually needs a few tries to get going; she’s made me late MORE than once. Usually, though, she finally kicks into gear with just enough time to squeak into where I’m going, and thankfully, Donna’s always understanding when she holds me up from something work-related. Today, she doesn’t give me too much trouble. With a shudder, her engine finally gets moving, and I’m just about ready to leave.
I click in my seatbelt and double check that I’m not forgetting anything else. Keys, obviously. Front door locked? I already did a double-take when I walked away from it. Mirrors? My eyes flick to the sides, and both side mirrors are looking good. Reaching up to adjust the rear-view, I’m greeted by the sight of my own round, pale blue ears, each with a shock of yellow down the middle. The tuft of fur between them is still looking a bit messy; my paws fuss through it for a moment, tidying it and fluffing it up, and I shoot myself a little wink before turning around to back out onto the road.
I’m not a huge fan of driving, to be honest. Before I even start moving, there are just so many details to keep track of at once. My eyes dart from side to side–the road, my mirrors, the blinkers and brake lights in front of me. I keep track of street signs, or else I’ll miss a turn and run late. The road. My mirrors. I flick my turn signal on. Twist around. There’s someone behind me–heavier on the gas, whip around to make sure I don’t bump into the car ahead of me, slip through the gap when I finally have room. Stop for a left turn, No traffic in the lane closest to me, no gaps in the far lane. Wait, watch, no traffic in the far lane but no gaps in the closest lane. Hurry into the turn, thread the needle, keep on my way.
It can be a little overwhelming. I don’t totally freeze often, but I miss things, or I hesitate, and the thought of either keeps me on edge the whole time I’m behind the wheel. I’m close to work now, driving down a straight shot between two rows of ballrooms and pool halls. This evening, the street happens to be empty, apart from me and my car. A good distance further, one of the only streetlights glows green, and with no cars ahead of me to get in the way, I should be at work in no time.
I hesitate again. Green lights like this one always give me an uncomfortable, deeply counterintuitive feeling. With nothing in the way and the all-clear to keep going, you should want to speed up and get to the other side of it. But me, I see a green light, kinda far away like this one is, and the only thing I can think about is the idea that it’ll turn yellow once I’m already going full speed into it, and I won’t make it in time. But I won’t be able to stop, either, having committed as much as I already have, and the light’ll be red, and I’ll get a ticket… or worse… It’s just such a weird feeling for something that should be, y’know, a happy little surprise, and–
As I’m wondering why I feel the way I do, I glance up and notice that the light has turned, and that I’m getting uncomfortably close. I stop–a little later than I meant to–and my seatbelt thumps against my chest. At least it was a good save. Breathing a shaky little sigh of relief, I wait for the light to change again and get the rest of the way to work.
Stepping out of my car, I adjust the cuff links of my purple three-piece suit–golden, four-pointed stars to match the one at the tip of my tail, which I give a nice stretch after sitting down for a bit. Our Incineroar bouncers flank the Lounge’s double doors, as watchful as ever; Derrick holds out a balled fist as I pass, and I knock my own paw against his knuckles. Rodney, preferring to remain at attention, offers only a small nod, to which I respond with a wave as I make my way to the bar. It’s early in the night, but we’re already busy. Eleanor, our headliner, always draws a crowd, and me and Gina (the bestie, a Maractus, and the only member of the staff even shorter than myself) don’t stop for a moment as we serve the patrons.
I watch as she dances between tables, prickly-pear pigtails bobbing amidst the heads of the customers, a wide tray of beverages and appetizers balanced on each hand. I mix the drinks, putting on a little show for the guests as they wait for the main event later tonight–we always joke that she shimmies while I shake. A flipped bottle, a pour along stacked glasses, a confident slide across the bar to the waiting hand of a patron. Just enough to entertain them without having to resort to the small talk you might get from another server (and, of course, to earn a decent tip). Gina comes back around every so often to put in orders from customers seated closer to the stage, and as she waits to load back up, we joke around and talk about what’s been happening outside of work.
Soon enough, the house lights go down and the spotlight above the stage with a KACHNK. It follows Eleanor as she walks, elegant, from the wing leading to her dressing room in the back, to the microphone in the center of the stage. That thing’s mostly for choreography: she can belt if she needs to, and the place isn’t the size of a concert hall. Her voice carries, low and sweet, all the way from the stage against the far wall to the now–calm bar where I stand. As much as I love Gina, and as welcome as the boys make me feel, this is my favorite part of the job, absolutely no question. People are usually too enraptured by the performance to think about ordering more drinks or snacks or whatever, and I get to give Eleanor my full attention.
I watch, chin resting dreamily on my paw, as she sways from side to side, getting as lost in the music as I get in the sight of her. She’ll take the microphone in one hand to sashay around the stage, reaching out to the people at the tables in the front row, eliciting a whistle or, occasionally, a rose thrown at her feet. She’ll dip the stand to emphasize a simmering low note, and if I close my eyes, I feel myself falling into her arms like that as she coos into my ear. She wraps the crowd–wraps me–around her finger as effortlessly as she does the cord of the microphone, and by the time she takes five, I hardly notice how much time has passed.
I’m brought back to reality by the intermission rush. Gina bumps me with her hip, carrying a load of dirty tumblers to the kitchen behind us, and nods at the line of thirsty showgoers that have formed across the bar. I rush to get orders filled before the show can start up again, but as I do, I see Eleanor step down from the stage and head in my direction, down a straight shot between two rows of tables and applauding fans. The emerald dress she’s wearing tonight swishes as she strolls up to me, as graceful offstage as on, leaning down and resting an arm on the bar.
“Hey there, mon Ceri,” she hums, my heart skipping a beat as my name forms on her full lips, even for a pun so cheesy. She bats her eyes–she’s probably just blinking, actually, but I can’t help watching her lashes flutter either way, and asks: “How am I doing tonight?”
“As wonderful as ever, Eleanor!!” I manage. I’m always amazed by how naturally she fits up on stage. It’s a goofy thought, but even the buoy the Floatzel has is a perfect fit for the long-gloves-and-feather-boa atmosphere that Donna has fostered here. “You’re knockin’ em dead!
“I’m glad to hear it!” she warmly intones. “That’s high praise, coming from my biggest fan. I hate to trouble her while she’s got such a crowd waiting on her, but could she be a dear and get me some water? Gotta finish strong, after all.”
“Yes ma’am!” I turn to grab a glass and scoop up some ice, thankful for the opportunity to hide my face. ””I can’t imagine I’m your biggest fan, though, I mean–I mean this crowd,” I retort, waving a paw over my shoulder at the still-growing line. “They’re all here for you!” I turn back to her, and I’m dazzled by the amber spots of shimmering starlight streaking from the sequins of her dress, shed by that silky golden coat of hers. “Me, I just love–” I catch myself, a little later than I meant to. My heart thumps against my chest. “I j-just. I love your shows! Your music, it’s beautiful, y’know?”
I can feel my face glowing cherry-red.
I hand her the water, hoping to Mother Polaris that she can’t tell through my fur. She takes it graciously, downing most of it in one go. Ah, Water-Types. She gives me another confident smile–if she’s onto me, I can’t see it in her face–and I wish her a broken leg as she hurries back to the stage. Finally, I turn my attention back to the queue, and get as many people their drinks as I can before her performance starts again. I got held up a bit too long there, and I have to work through part of the last half of the act, but honestly, I think I’d have been too on-edge to enjoy it.
Eventually, the lights come up again, Eleanor returns to her dressing room, and some of the patrons start to file out the front. Gina whirls and waltzes between tables, cleaning up after the customers, and I start to gather and wash the glasses scattered across the bartop. Eventually, I come to one marked with shiny black lipstick along the rim. This was the one I had handed Eleanor, I’m pretty sure. I stare at it, my mind returning to how I answered her question. To the sight of her lips. I feel a hand come to rest on my shoulder, and look up at the Lapras for which the Lounge is named.
“Next time, huh?” She assures me, somewhere between advice from a grandparent and encouragement from a coach. “Always does take you a couple tries.” She must’ve been watching earlier.
“Mmm. Thanks, Donna,” I nod. She always is so understanding.
#writeblr#pokemon fanfiction#trans author#indie author#pokemon#shinx#floatzel#lapras lounge#my writing#original writing#lesbian#single-scene
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[Image attached: A male Lapras with chimerism lounging on some rocks. The second photo had the same Lapras staring at the camera with a smug look on his face.] And here is the father.
WHY SO SMUG........
he KNOWS he's the father........
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I normally send things on anon, but after typing this all out I’ve grown attached and decided to turn anon off. I might do something with it but I still want your opinion on this.
After reading about baby Nabori a thought occurred. Hear me out for a moment:
This could take place before Husui, after Husui, or in a world where nobody gets yeeted to the past. For some reason both Iris and Elesa are challenging the multi battle line, maybe just to mess with the twins or something. In the control room some sort of alarm goes off signalling something has happened in the boss car of the multi line and the doors to the car have locked for some reason. Once the train has stopped, the workers finally get the car doors open - only to see something nobody was expecting.
There in the middle of the car are three toddlers and an infant. Who all look verrry familiar. Que one frantic phone call and we have one exasperated and confused Mayor/Gym Leader standing in the employee lounge of the subway watching three little hellions tussling in the middle of the room with an agent holding a babbling baby who seems to want in on the toddler squabble. After managing to calm the kiddos down they figure out a few things:
1) Nobody has any clue what happened and none of the little ones can remember that moment.
2) Regarding memory, it wasn’t a total wipe. They know who they are, who the people around them are, but the details are fuzzy. They know that they are supposed to be older too.
3) Somebody absolutely has to keep an eye on them or the will wander off. The agents have lost Ingo once, Elesa twice, and Emmet five times in the time it took Drayden to get to Nimbassa.
Drayden is absolutely not ready for this.
I'm laughing bc all I can picture is just like... the Depot Agents in charge of looking after baby Iris being so glad that she has limited mobility right now, because they're positive that they would have lost track of her more times than they have with Emmet... and also, once their boss gets back to his regular age they will be bringing this up with him. Because boss??? Safety checks??? Emmet will never live it down.
(I like to picture that Ingo didn't so much get 'lost' as he got really focused on something and stopped following the Depot Agents... but when they noticed he was missing and ran back, he was right where they left him, still engrossed in whatever it was that distracted him.)
Drayden's got one hell of a ride in for him! Plus he has to contact Elesa's parents, whom the Depot Agents don't have the number for and tell them that their daughter has mysteriously shrunk. At least he gets to inflict the bizarre phone call he got on someone else now, lmao.
Do all of their Pokemon get reverted back to first stage evos too? That would be cute. Durant, Lapras, Druddigon and Emolga just trying to hold them all together bc they're the only ones unaffected bc they're all single stage Pokemon.
#asks#submas#elesa#pokemon drayden#pokemon iris#chaos at gear station!#but what else is new#drayden is not ready for this
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What Pokémon live on the Faroe Islands?
Before humans arrived on the Faroe Islands, there were not any mammal Pokemon found here except for the occasional Spheal or Sealeo. Today, Rattata are found across the island, and many of the inhabitants raise Mareep on their farms. And Spheal and Sealeo can still be found lounging on the island's shoreline.
What the Faroe Islands is best known for are its bird Pokemon. Delibird have occasionally been known to visit the island, and thousands of Wingull, Spearow, and Starly flock here. A unique, white-colored variant of Corviknight also used to live on the archipelago, but it hasn't been seen in over a century.
The Faroes are known as one of the best spots in the world to look for Lapras. People hoping to catch a glimpse of this elusive Pokemon have a better chance of spotting one here than anywhere else in Europe.
#pokemon#pokemon headcanons#faroe islands#spheal#sealeo#rattata#mareep#delibird#wingull#spearow#starly#corviknight#lapras
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Raise Hell And High-Waters
Lanternfamily x Reader One-Shot
Word Count: 1.2K
Warnings: Explicit Language
Author's Note: Based on the ask about Batman trying to adopt the little scrappy Lanternkid! Enjoy! -Thorne
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Hal set the kid down on the couch in the lounge, setting their Justice League backpack beside them. They immediately busied themselves pulling out the game console, switching it on as they cocked their legs up on the cushions, slinking down until their chin was in their chest, head bent up against the arm of the sofa.
“You gonna be okay right here?” he inquired.
“Mhm,” they hummed, pressing the buttons until the music flowed through the speakers.
Hal nodded, then reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet; he flicked it open and tugged out some money, setting it in the cup holder of their backpack. “Here’s ten ones, okay? The vending machines are over there, get a snack and a drink if you want it.”
“Can I get a soda?”
“No sodas after eight.” He announced, like a parent, hands even cocked on his hips.
“Loser,” they griped, then looked at him. “Do they have flavored waters?”
“Any kind you can dream of kid,” he reached down and ruffled their hair. “Look, the meeting was last minute, and I wouldn’t’ve brought you if I could’ve found a babysitter in time.” He smiled halfheartedly. “I should only be gone an hour and a half, okay?”
They smiled. “Can we go to the movies after this?”
Hal’s face pinched. “Jesus kid, you really wanna see that midnight showing, don’t you?”
“Well, the child actor in the movie is like me,” they theorized. “Super smart way above their classmates’ levels.” Shooting them a bored stare, they said, “If you weren’t home-schooling me, I’d be a college graduate by now.”
He rolled his eyes and ruffled their hair again. “I gotta go. Don’t move,” he warned. “I’m serious. Stay right here.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know.” He gave them one last look, then hurried off down the hallway.
***
It’d been an hour or so before they’d heard any movement, but when they did, it was above their head, brushing over the back of the couch. Hal had told them the Watchtower was completely safe, so they didn’t immediately panic. Whoever or whatever it was, was friendly.
“What are you playing?” The person—a man by the low gravel of their voice—asked.
“The new Pokémon game,” they murmured. “It’s easy compared to the other games.”
“How far back through them have you played?”
They pursed their lips, thinking for a moment. “Uncle Barry had his Game Boy and the original Red and Blue still in their cases.” Holding up the console, they said, “Hal bought me the Switch and Pokémon Sword and Shield the other weekend.”
“How do you like the newest games compared to the oldest ones?”
“They’re easier, built for a fun rather than a competitive, skilled mode.” They grinned as they caught a Lucario. “I haven’t lost a single battle since I started playing last week. Honestly, the last Pokémon games that actually made me try were HeartGold and SoulSilver.” Letting out a bored, ‘pfft’, they added, “Every game after that is all about building up a dream team and completely obliterating every opponent.”
“What’s your dream team?” they asked.
“Aurorus, Charizard, Gardevoir, Greninja, Lapras, and Lucario.” They shrugged. “I substitute Lapras out for Talonflame or Yveltal from time to time.”
“How do you play?”
“Offensively. I build up my teams stats then just take things head on.”
“No moves that boost defense?”
“Players that focus on stat moves are losers. Play hard to win or don’t play at all,” they griped, finally turning to look at the mystery man. “You’re Batman.”
He peered at them through his white cowl. “I am.”
“Why do you know so much about Pokémon?” they inquired. “You’re awfully knowledgeable for a grown man who takes down supervillains.”
Nodding, he replied, “My third son loves the games. He’d probably get the crap knocked out of his team by yours.”
They grinned. “Lemme guess, he focuses on stat moves?”
“Mhm.”
“Loser,” they snorted.
Suddenly, Batman looked rather serious. “Why are you out here all alone?”
“Hal had a meeting and couldn’t find a babysitter. The other guys were busy too.”
“They take care of you as well?”
“Yeah. I stay with Hal or John when they’re on earth, Hal mostly. Kyle and Guy keep an eye on my when I’m on Oa.”
“You’ve been to Oa?”
“A few times. Weird place. Weirder aliens and people.”
“What about school?”
“Hal home-schools me.”
“How come?” he questioned, watching them trample another player.
“I’m really smart. Like Einstein genius smart.” They shrugged. “Hal said it’d be easier to avoid attention if we home-school me.”
“Do you like it?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re not growing up around kids your own age. You’re by yourself a lot.”
“I was on the streets before Kyle found me,” they retorted. “I’m used to being on my own. And besides, kids my age are annoying. They’re still stuck in the play stage of development and I’m in the ask really inquisitive questions and solve impossible physics problems stage.”
Batman chuckled. “You’re pretty smart then, yeah?”
“Yeah.” They shut off their Switch and shoved it in their backpack. “Hal and the others can’t keep up.”
Getting off the sofa, they wandered over to the vending machines, sure that Batman was following them. They tried to reach the number pad, but couldn’t, frowning as they turned to him and held their arms up.
“Help me.”
He bent down and lifted them, letting them press the buttons; when they were finished, he didn’t set them down, merely carried them as they opened the chip bag and snacked. They were apparently content to lean onto his shoulder, head tucked under his chin. Batman gently rocked them, as he walked around, and soon they felt their eyelids falling shut.
***
“—ere are they!”
They awoke to shouting, startled by the sound of Hal’s panicked and scared voice. Batman’s hand touched their side. “It’s okay.”
“Hal’s worried,” they murmured, eyes droopy, tone sleep laced.
“Kid!” Hal’s voice was close now, then they were being yanked out of Batman’s arms and into the Green Lantern’s, life practically squeezed out of them. “Holy shit, you scared the hell out of me.”
“They were fine,” Batman sighed. “I had them.”
“I’m not talking to you!” Hal griped. “You okay?”
“Can’t—breathe—” they gasped and immediately his arms loosened, letting them inhale deeply. “‘M fine.”
“Come on, I’ve got your backpack. Let’s go home.”
As they walked off, Batman’s voice reached them. “You need to enroll them in a school that’ll let them grow and mature with other kids their age.”
Hal spun, fire in his voice as he snapped, “Don’t tell me how to raise my kid.”
When they turned the corner and walked to the Zeta tubes, they asked, “Do you mean that?”
“Mean what?” Hal asked.
“That I’m your kid?”
Their voice sounded so far, so lost, so…afraid. Afraid of hope, afraid of love, afraid of another parent leaving them on the streets, turning their back on them like all the rest did before.
Hal pulled back so he could stare at them, and he took their small chin in his hand, affirming, “Absolutely.” His eyes were serious but still warm. “You’re my kid and you always will be. And if anyone, and I mean anyone, tried to take you from me…I’d raise hell and so would your uncles to keep you with us.”
Tears flooded their eyes and they sniffed, burying their face in Hal’s neck.
He smiled, gently petting the back of their head. “I love you, kid.”
#lanternfamily x reader imagine#lanternfamily x reader imagines#lanternfamily x reader#lanternfamily imagine#lanternfamily imagines#lanternfamily#dc imagines#dc imagine#dc comics#hal jordan#john stewart#guy gardner#kyle rayner#green lanterns#green lantern#green lantern corps#bruce wayne#batman#batfamily x reader imagine#batfamily x reader imagines#batfamily x reader#batfamily imagines#batfamily imagine#batfamily#dc
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Vice Dorm Leaders getting along with Pokémon:
It didn’t take long for the vice dorm leaders to get involved with the Pokemon too. The shenanigans that happened with them are... interesting to say the least.
Trey + Slurpuff
“The Unbirthday Party was a success thanks to this little guy’s sense of smell… Though I should expect to make a large portion for it, the number of sweets it ate was shocking for everyone!”
Trey was a bit skeptical when Phoebe lent him Slurpuff and told him that chefs would use them to sniff out the freshest ingredients but if they say so then it must be worth a try.
Needless to say, he was pleasantly surprised to see the cake thing nudge him to the best ingredients to use for his sweets. He rewarded Slurpuff with a spoon covered in frosting or batter. The Pokémon mostly stayed out of his way and only has to bring him some tools or supplies.
When he presented the sweets he made, everyone including Riddle were almost knocked into a food coma with how good it was. Even Trey was lost in the trance of the flavor, but he was snapped out of it when he spotted Slurpuff eating almost half of the buffet table, he rushed to it and told it to ask him for more sweets to prevent any problems.
Ruggie + Crobat
“That Phoebe kid feeds you this? Aww man! I’m so jealous, now I wish I was a Pokémon!”
That one-time Ruggie came across Crobat was when he passed by Ramshackle to see a large bat creature with four wings eating from a large bowl filled with berries, Poke puffs and even poffins. The amount it ate distracted him from his usual task and he only snapped out of it when Crobat made eye-contact with him.
Crobat wasn’t sure why a stranger was here but it assumed it wanted food so Crobat nudged a Poke puff towards Ruggie’s direction before going back to chow down. Ruggie didn’t plan on asking it for any food, he was just curious but since it offered, who is he to decline? Picking up the Poke puff and taking a bite, he immediately devours it till there’s nothing left. That was the tastiest pastry he has had; they were even better than the ones in the cafeteria.
He hears Phoebe call out to Crobat and he took this time to scram before he was found. That kid pampers their creatures like royalty, he admits that he once had the thought that wishes that he was a Pokémon too. Ruggie now sneaks to go to Ramshackle and Crobat sneaks him a portion of its food, Ruggie repays it by offering some to it as well. They just formed this unspoken lunch trade. The one time Phoebe made malasadas for Crobat, Ruggie was in heaven lemme tell you.
Phoebe has no idea about this, this was just a secret thing between Crobat and Ruggie. One time Phoebe was with Crobat in the field and it spots Ruggie, Crobat immediately goes to him and flies around him. Phoebe assumed that Crobat took a liking to Ruggie because it probably sensed that he’s a foodie. Oh, if only she knew.
Jade + Lapras
“Such kind yet protective eyes you have~ I’m far from trustworthy yet you nuzzle against me like a seal, this is quite interesting”
Phoebe asked Azul if she can be allowed to have her water Pokémon swim about in Octavinelle. The lake is much too small for the larger ones. Azul gave her permission but in exchange she has to work part-time at the lounge, Azul is capitalizing as usual. The mention of Pokémon being at Octavinelle brought more customers to the lounge, the one that got the most attention was Lapras.
It was very friendly and even paused to look inside the lounge from the windows. Phoebe was not surprised that Lapras was friendly, what she didn’t expect was that it got attached to Jade for some reason. She would have thought it was Sharpedo or even Eelektross who would get along with the cunning vice dorm leader. But instead, Lapras is swimming happily in circles wanting Jade’s attention.
Jade, of course, finds the Pokémon endearing and would always take his time to pet it whenever he’s on break. Even offering Lapras a small treat or two, Lapras is enjoying it. There was a rare occasion that Jade swam with Lapras in his eel form, at times he swims alongside Lapras or have it chase him through the water, other times he just sleeps on Lapras’ back as it swam.
Jamil + Serperior
“Quite the proud one you are, at least you’re more tolerable than Kalim…”
Kalim promised a favor without consulting Jamil again, this time it was to look after some of her Pokémon. Kalim got caught up in the excitement of having to get close with those strange creatures that he didn’t think that it could be troublesome.
Jamil stopped in his tracks at the sight of Kalim with a large green snake behind him. Boy did he get quite the scolding from Jamil, but what can he do now that Kalim as already offered? He just decides to “help” him take care of Serperior. Thankfully, Phoebe provided a list of ingredients that Serperior likes, the list was as long as an A4 paper but at least Jamil has his options cut out for him. He doesn’t have to guess and waste any food.
Serperior mostly kept to itself and wanders around the dorm, inspecting its surroundings. Kalim tries to hug it but it just wraps its body around him and places him a few feet away before slithering off. Serperior will feel terrible if he smacks the sunshine boy away, so it places him at a good distance.
Jamil often sees it staring at him, its sharp eyes resemble his own. He never expected to have it get attached to him in a rather proud way. Everywhere Jamil goes, Serperior follows at a distance and there were rare moments it coils near his bedroom door, and Jamil walks out one morning only to fall into its coils. This strange behavior was suspicious at first but then Jamil learned to get used to it. Serperior is a curious one but then he thinks its more tolerable than Kalim.
Speaking of Kalim, Serperior sensed that most of Jamil’s stress comes from Kalim being a goofball that he is, so it catches Kalim and puts him in a coil hold when he’s about to do something reckless.
Rook + Oricorio
“Oh my! Such grace and beauty you possess to dance with excellent skills! Wait, you mean to tell me it had four forms? I would like to see it, please show me”
He spotted the dancing bird Pokémon in the field when they were having a PE class. Oricorio was in its Pom-Pom form and doing a cheer dance to motivate Grimm to fly better. He couldn’t help but approach Phoebe and ask her about Oricorio.
Needless to say, he was very interested. A creature that has four different forms that represents a different environment? It was like a fox having more than just a winter coat. He asked to see its other forms, it would be tiring to have it change forms constantly so Phoebe just brings out Rotom to show him the pictures of the Oricorio forms. Rook admired the pictures and each one gave off a different kind of beauty.
Oricorio, being a simp for pretty boys, took a liking to Rook. He was just so charming, Oricorio does its happy dance and follows him whenever it sees him. Phoebe once asked him if he can keep Oricorio company for a few days, he accepts the offer and he brings it to Pomefiore. Oricorio also liked Vil and Epel due to how charming their looks are, Vil is fine with it as long as it isn’t a troublemaker while Epel is kind of bummed out when he thinks it likes him because of his fragile looks.
The moment Rook was shown its changed forms in person, he is taking out his camera and is taking burst shots from all sorts of angles and lighting. Out of all the four forms Oricorio has, he loves its Baile form the most, the way it dances with embers around it in a display of passion and power. He looks forward to Phoebe asking him to look after Oricorio again.
Ortho + Emolga & Pachirisu
“Hey! That tickles, big brother you should try and pet them! They’re like those plushies you sometimes order in your room. Isn’t it like having your favorite plushy as a pet?”
Emolga and Pachirisu are both cheeky Pokémon and a duo for trouble. Emolga and Pachirisu were seen making student’s hair go static and stick out with small electric waves.
Ortho spotted the two behind some bushes and immediately approaches them, this is the first time Emolga and Pachirisu were caught off guard and startled. Their electric attacks don’t do much to Ortho due to his robotic circuits, if anything he considers it as some form of tickling.
Ortho thought how cute they looked and they resemble plush toys in his brother’s room. Emolga and Pachirisu was weirded out by Ortho at first but his cheerfulness was infectious and it didn’t take long for them to treat him as part of their group. Whenever Ortho passes by, the two would pounce on him and swing from his arms and legs, Ortho likes this game, he finds it useful to use his scanner to see where they might pop out next.
One time, he took them to see his brother and they made his hair stick out. He was startled but Ortho found it amusing, he got to see what would his hair look like if it stuck out. Emolga and Pachirisu still do their pranks but its less due to them wanting to find Ortho first.
Lilia + Dragapult
“A prankster and yet you dote on the little ones on your horns? We might be cousins from a distant world, fufu~ Let’s go scare Sebek some more!”
Dragapult pranks Sebek a lot, poor boy gets it from almost a lot of Pokémon. It once shot a Dreepy in his shirt causing him to squirm and try to get it out, he looked like he was doing a crazy monkey dance. Lilia appreciates this little prankster and he would join it in tormenting other students but mostly Sebek because his reactions were very amusing to watch. The two even went and started a pranking competition where they tally their number of pranked students for the whole month.
Lilia was allowed to play and hold the small Dreepy that reside in Dragapult’s horns. He melted at the sight of the little cuties playfully tussling his hair, which gave him an idea to mimic Dragapult’s horns(?) With an easy hair growth potion and a LOT of hairspray, he came to school with his hair in Dragapult’s style.
The sight alone in Diasomnia sent everyone, including Malleus into a stunned silence, Dragapult added fuel to the flame by letting the Dreepy reside in his hair for the rest of the day. Crowley saw Lilia and mumbled how the trends have gotten crazier every day. Cater took pictures and he laughed at the sight because it was so outlandish. Kalim was confused but precious boy still appreciated his hairstyle nonetheless. The perfect chaotic duo.
#pokemon#twst#twisted wonderland#headcanons#lilia vanrouge#ortho shroud#rook hunt#jamil viper#jade leech#ruggie bucchi#trey clover#pokemon x twisted wonderland#twst x pokemon#pokemon imagines
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one of the first designs i made in game. based on that pikachu riding a lapras shirt in pokemon go.
i enjoy having it for my private beach lounge pillow.
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Silver Dreaming (2/6)
That night, Raihan has a dream.
He’s on a rocky mountain, the highest point in Alola. The sun shines down on him, warm on his skin. His heart is racing. There’s a grin on his face.
He’s battling someone — he doesn’t know who — and it’s exhilarating. Flygon rushes across the battlefield like a shooting star. Whatever his opponent does, Raihan is one step ahead. He is winning and it is glorious.
On the other side of the battlefield, his opponent smiles.
*
At nine exactly, Professor Kukui walks through the door.
He’s grinning, buzzing with the kind of excitement people usually get at their first time in a stadium. Raihan doesn’t get to witness that kind of emotion often; by the time challengers get to him, they’re usually used to the spotlights.
“I’m glad you asked me here,” Kukui says. “Z-Moves need a lot of space, so it’s hard to find places to really show ‘em off, you know?”
Raihan doesn’t know, but he nods anyway.
They stand at the center of the pitch, side by side.
“Now, Z-Moves have a long history in Alola and are critical to our culture… but I can give you the full report later. You’ve got the Dragonium-Z on your Z-Ring, yeah, so if you send out a Pokemon with a damaging dragon-type move, you can use the ultimate dragon move!”
“Really? I’ve never been fond of Draco Meteor, myself.” But he sends out Flygon all the same.
“No, not Draco Meteor. Devastating Drake. It’s even stronger — trust me, I measured it. Now! Watch me!”
Kukui proceeds to… make the strangest poses Raihan has ever seen, and that’s counting the Charizard pose and dabbing.
“Can you copy that, cha— Raihan?”
With a shrug, he does. Let it never be said that the great Raihan does not have a good memory.
“Perfect! You got that like a Smart Strike! I knew you’d be a natural at this!” Kukui steps back, gesturing for Raihan to face the opposite end of the pitch. “Now, act like you’re in a regular battle. Do the pose, and channel the energy through you. And when you’re ready, command Flygon to use Devastating Drake!”
Either this is going to be the most humiliating experience ever, or it will be epic.
Raihan closes his eyes.
He crosses his arms and flings them out.
Are his fingers really tingling, or is he just imagining it?
Hands forward, palms facing together, fingers curled. A dragon’s mouth. Dragons guard treasure. Dragons are wise and terrifying. Dragons get slain and the fairytale still ends happily ever after.
If he opened his eyes now, they’d be sharp, glaring. That happens when he’s worked up. He’s still not entirely sure how he does it.
His heart is racing. His arms feel hot, almost burning, like he’s holding the sun in his hands.
Alola is paradise. Alola is full of friendly people and strong Pokémon. Alola has a desert where there’s a sandstorm always raging, and a guardian deity lives there.
He opens his arms, the dragon’s maw. Flygon cries out.
Maybe Raihan is imagining it, but at that moment, he’s certain that he and Flygon are completely in sync. He feels his partner’s excitement, feels the sun on his scales, feels the power coursing through every atom of his body —
Flygon roars.
Raihan roars, too.
“DEVASTATING DRAKE!”
The power courses through him like nothing he’s ever felt before. He stumbles back at the force of it, almost falling over before being caught by Kukui. He tears his eyes open just in time to watch Flygon unleashing the most awesome move he has ever seen.
A gigantic purple light in the form of an amphipthere flies across the pitch. It spirals up, then plummets to earth at the spot where an opponent would have been.
It leaves a smoking crater in its wake.
Oh, Arceus. Arceus. Arceus.
Raihan’s shaking.
He’s gradually aware of Kukui’s voice. “Deep breaths, cousin. Deep breaths. In through your nose, out through your mouth.”
Deep breaths.
Deep breaths.
In and out.
It takes him a while, but Raihan recovers. When he comes back to his senses, he realizes that he did not, in fact, faint or even fall over. Somehow Kukui has kept him upright. There’s nearly thirty-six centimeters’ height difference between them. How strong is this man?
“That was…” Raihan rubs his face. “I… man.”
“Intense, yeah? You did good. A Z-Move is powered by a trainer sharing their light with their Pokémon, so for yours to be so powerful on your first try… You’re amazing, Raihan! Exceptional!”
“Is it always this… draining?”
“Well, it’s like any other move, really. If you practice, it gets easier. You will practice, right?”
The Z-Ring glitters.
“...yeah. I’ll practice.”
“Great! If you want, I can call Kahuna Olivia later. She’s the one who made your Z-Ring. You’ll be working with her at the league.”
“If I become champion. If.”
Kukui’s smile falls, just the tiniest bit. “Still thinking about it, then?”
“Yeah. I am.” He’s not thinking clearly. This is a runner’s high, he knows that, and that means he’ll probably crash later, but… “Damn. That felt amazing. Thank you, Professor.”
“Anytime. Er… is there a place where you can lie down for a bit? You still look a bit unwell.”
“I’m fine. I’ll be fine. If you can just help me back into the main building, Sebastian can help me from there. I don’t want to keep you from your other plans.”
“Okay. If you’re sure.”
Kukui walks him back inside, and the gym trainers take him from there. Raihan lets himself be guided to a back room. He drinks water and lets himself rest.
Today had been put aside to train for his battle with Nessa, but he’s not sure if he can handle his usual routine right now. Instead, he lets himself replay the Z-Move in his mind. The dragon, the light, the raw power from a Pokemon who couldn’t even Gigantamax…
He imagines his next match against Melony. Maybe he’d switch things up a bit, send out Duraludon first and save Flygon for last. She would be confused, of course. The whole stadium would be. The commentators would wonder what in the world he was thinking. Melony would Gigantamax her Lapras and wait for him to do the same with Flygon, but then he’d reveal his Z-Ring and unleash a Devastating Drake, and maybe he’d finally beat her for once.
He’ll have a match against her sometime next year. It’s more than enough time to get used to the move, to get accustomed to battling with it.
Next year —
No. Wait.
If he takes the offer, he won’t be part of Galar’s league by next year. He might never get the chance to battle Melony or Nessa or Piers or Milo again.
It’s… a shame.
But that’s what happens when you grow, right? Sometimes you have to part ways with people you used to know. He hasn’t battled Sonia in years, after all, and he doesn’t miss her.
Most of the time, at least.
*
A couple hours later, he’s recovered enough to head back out. His trainers seem relieved to see him. Raihan helps them finish repairing the pitch, then goes over their training.
At the end of the day, he goes home.
Sonia and Nessa are waiting at his door. Sonia’s holding a six-pack of soda in one hand and a bag of takeaway in the other. The food smells delicious.
“Glad you two could make it,” Raihan says, letting them in.
He doesn’t have to tell them to make themselves at home. They do it themselves, getting the fluffy blankets out of his closet and pulling out the folding table for the food. Nessa turns on the telly and sets it on mute. Raihan grabs the Leon Jar from the top of the fridge. It still has a few coins in it from last time.
They settle in, lounging on the floor. Sonia brought their favorites, as she always does: potato curry for herself, coconut curry for Nessa, bone curry for Raihan.
Sonia’s always been good at remembering things like that.
They meet up like this once a month, alternating who brings the refreshments and whose house they go to. They never really planned for it to become a thing. It just did.
There are rules, though.
Well, just one. Don’t mention Galar’s champion.
Usually, that’s not too hard. But if Raihan tells them about the offer…
He keeps quiet, at first.
Nessa’s talking about the maintenance plans for the lighthouse. Sonia’s concerned about how it’s weathering the summer storms.
“I don’t remember them being that harsh last year.”
Nessa shrugs. “Climate change. But the lighthouse will be okay. It’s been here for a hundred years, it’ll last a hundred more.”
“I hope so. I love that place.”
“Same. Hey, Raihan, you control the weather, right? Make it sunny around Hulbury for me, okay?”
Make it sunny. Like he holds the sun in his arms.
“Sonia,” he says. “Your gran is meeting with some guy from Alola, right?”
“Yeah, Professor Kukui. How’d you know?”
He takes a bite. “Mm… I might’ve spoken to him. Did he mention anything about the Alola league?”
She furrows her eyebrows. “I don’t think Alola has a league, Rai. They’re pretty traditional.”
“Yeah.”
Nessa sips her soda, looking him in the eyes. “Got something you want to share with the class, Raihan?”
“...if I tell you, you have to keep this a secret.”
“I can do that. Sunny?”
“My lips are sealed.”
Raihan leans forward. “Alola doesn’t have a league right now, but they’re setting one up. And Professor Kukui asked me to be the champion.”
As soon as he says it, he realizes how silly it must sound. He can’t take the title in Galar, and then all of a sudden someone from another region walks in and offers it, no strings attached? Ridiculous.
The girls don’t seem skeptical, though. They just look at him curiously.
Nessa asks, “But what about Leon?”
“Hey! You said his name!”
Nessa snorts, but puts a pound coin in the jar. Then, staring Sonia in the eyes, she puts in another. “Seriously, what about Leon? His rivalry with you is like half of the reason people come to watch his matches. Is Rose really going to let you off so easily?”
“I don’t know. Rose seemed pretty excited about it.” Raihan leans back. “Oleana said, too, that if I go, you would be that guy’s greatest rival.”
Nessa looks down. He knows that expression on her face: she’s imagining it. She usually loses to Raihan on the second round of the finals; with him gone, she’ll likely be the one facing He Who Must Not Be Named for the champion title. She’ll lose, of course, but as his new Greatest Rival she’ll be lifted from mere second gym leader to something higher. She’ll get the adoration, the respect, the sponsorships…
She deserves it all, honestly. He couldn’t pick a better person.
“Are you…” Her voice is hesitant. “Are you going to accept, then?”
“I’m still thinking about it. But honestly? The idea is kinda growing on me.”
“You’ll let us know before you leave, right? We have to throw you a party, and Gran will probably have things to ask you...”
“Sure, sure. Anything for Sunny’s granny, right? I haven’t accepted yet, though, so let’s not talk about what-ifs. Ness’ and I have a match to prepare for. There’s no way I’m going to lose!”
“Oh, just you wait!”
*
A couple hours later, they’re ready to call it a night. Nessa and Sonia share the guest room, as usual, and Raihan goes to his bedroom.
He turns on his phone and checks his notifications.
His last selfie, from yesterday morning outside Rose Tower, has six thousand likes. The comments section is full of questions about what he was doing there.
Nessa’s official account has some pictures from her latest shoot. He gives the post a like.
He scrolls through a while longer, but nothing else catches his interest. Still, he’s not quite ready to unplug yet.
He texts Piers. U up?
Dark specialist, mate. I’m practically a Noctowl.
Then, before Raihan can type a reply, Piers sends another message: Is this about the Alola championship?
How the fuck do u know about that?
Don’t ask and I won’t lie.
Okay, it’s like this:
You were at Rose Tower. So was that professor. He’s been talking about looking for a champion.
It’s not hard to put two and two together.
He doesn’t like that. Piers is a good guy, but he’s from Spikemuth, and Spikemuth isn’t known for being quiet. And that’s not even mentioning how the rumor ended up reaching him in the first place…
It was supposed to be a secret.
I won’t tell anyone. Cross my heart.
The rumor is going to spread, though. You know how the tabloids are.
Promise you’ll let me know before you leave?
There’s yet another person acting like he’s definitely leaving. Is there something in the way Raihan talks that makes them think he’s pretty much accepted the position?
I havent decided that I’m going yet.
but I’ll tell you if I do
Three dots appear, a signal of Piers typing.
He continues typing for five minutes.
It makes Raihan anxious.
At last, the message appears: Have you thought about who’s going to take care of Sandaconda and Duraludon?
What?
Alola has a pretty limited dex, mate. I don’t know if you’ll be allowed to take them out of Galar.
Really?
He’d known Turtonator was native to Alola. He’d sort of assumed all the rest of his team would be allowed there, too.
Raihan fact checks this in this quickest way he knows how: googling it.
Turtonator, check. Goodra and Flygon lines, usually found on Ula’ula. Turkoal, also found on Ula’ula.
Sandaconda and Duraludon…
Not part of the dex. Not found in the region naturally. In other words: not allowed.
As the champion, Raihan could be an exception, right? Didn’t champions usually have exotic Pokémon on their teams? If he makes it a strict condition, there’s no way Kukui would refuse to let him bring his partners, right?
But that’s wishful thinking. Raihan knows his Pokémon well. He knows the Sandaconda line, in particular, could cause trouble if one somehow made its way into the wild.
So if he leaves, he’s going to play by the rules.
It probably rains a lot in Alola, he thinks. They won’t be happy there anyway.
He texts Piers: I’ll probably ask Aria to take care of em.
He doesn’t want to think about how Piers is likely judging him on the other side. Raihan is selling out, and he knows it.
Going to bed now. Talk to u tmrw.
Raihan sets his phone to Do Not Disturb, and tries to sleep.
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Pokemon Paragon: Extended Bios
Note: This is specifically for the members of the Prism Unit A-Team mentioned in the original post. There are other Paragons that’ll get brought up in the future, but they’ll get their own thing.
***********
Lucida Morgentaler
One of the first to be sent to the Lemua region in pursuit of Team Spectral. Unlike other Paragons, who obtain weapons when they transform, Lucida fights using her Aegislash, Victor, himself. Though she’s kind hearted and has a strong sense of justice, she’s also a bit mischievous, and gets serious and cunning when it comes to battling. When not on duty, she works at her grandparents’ bakery in Sinnoh, with them, her mother, and her little sister.
Age: 17
Gender: Female
Soul Shard: Aegislash
Weapon: Aegislash
Speciality: Striker
Synchro-Skill: Aurora Bayonet
Support Pokemon: Roserade (Shiny)
Remaining Team: Ninetales, Alcremie, Lopunny, Ribombee
Likes: Baked goods, sparring
Dislikes: Explosions, being interrupted
***********
Kannon Miura
One of Lucida’s closest coworkers and companions. Despite her delicate appearance and pacifistic personality, Kannon is incredibly protective of those dear to her, and will stop at nothing to make sure they are safe. Though her ancestors originate from Johto, Kannon was born in Alola, living on Ula’Ula Island with her family, who run a popular inn. She’s always wanted to visit Johto, but has never been able find time to go there to due to work.
Age: 17
Gender: Female
Soul Shard: Froslass
Weapon: Naginata
Speciality: Sorcerer
Synchro-Skill: Snowfall Starling
Support Pokemon: Zoroark
Remaining Team: Indeedee (Male), Lapras, Corviknight, Incineroar
Likes: Night time, Johto
Dislikes: Deep water, cloudy days
***********
Belric Pursglove
A member of the Prism Unit, and an Interpol Informant. Often, Belric can be perceived as lazy, clearly preferring to lounge about in cafes and play with his Pokemon instead of doing his work. But when it comes to important missions, or the safety of innocents, Belric abandons that work-shy nature, and puts all of the effort he can into it. Some of the younger members of the Prism Unit label him the ‘dad friend’. He has done nothing to oppose this.
Age: 39
Gender: Male
Soul Shard: Rhyperior
Weapon: Gauntlets
Speciality: Defender
Synchro-Skill: Boulder Bullet Twister
Support Pokemon: Nidoking
Remaining Team: Sceptile, Heliolisk, Drednaw, Drampa
Likes: Coffee, bugging Henneke
Dislikes: Too much work, small spaces
***********
Henneke Louffen
A member of the Prism Unit, raised in Alola but stationed to Kalos. As he currently lives in Snowbelle, and has an affinity for Ice types, Henneke doesn’t do all that well in warm places. Despite his young-ish age, he’s quite wise, and often gives advice to the younger agents. His talent as a barista and baker is quite apparent...though this makes Belric come bug him a lot for a coffee. He manages to settle with a couple snarky quips, but he really just wants to hit him.
Age: 19
Gender: Male
Soul Shard: Cloyster
Weapon: Whip Sword
Speciality: Shielder
Synchro-Skill: Icicle Carapace
Support Pokemon: Frosmoth
Remaining Team: Mamoswine, Vanilluxe, Weavile, Alolan Sandslash
Likes: Cold weather, baking
Dislikes: Belric’s shenanigans, intense heat
***********
Nesina Calandri
Along with her twin sister Tessa, Nesina works as a detective for the Prism Unit. Nesina is quiet and stern, often only opening her mouth in order to call out something someone said wrong. Earn her friendship, though, and you’ve got a selfless and loyal companion for life. Besides Tessa, the one Nesina trusts most is Henneke, since he’s basically raised the two for a long while, and she sees him as somewhat of a father figure.
Age: 14
Gender: Female
Soul Shard: Toxicroak
Weapon: Tonfa
Speciality: Absorber
Synchro-Skill: Venomous Double-Strike
Support Pokemon: Cacturne
Remaining Team: Hatterene, Hitmonchan, Obstagoon, Sableye
Likes: Donuts, being inside
Dislikes: Crowds, being without Tessa
***********
Tessa Calandri
Alongside her twin sister Nesina, Tessa works as one of the Prism Unit’s detectives. Tessa is energetic, super friendly, a huge prankster, and loves Baby Pokemon and their evolutions. She’s easy to make friends with, but betray her, and she’ll hold a grudge for the rest of her life. Tessa sees all of the Prism Unit as her family, especially Henneke, who’s raised her and Nesina for a while now. She treats her elders with a surprisingly large amount of respect.
Age: 14
Gender: Female
Soul Shard: Togekiss
Weapon: Twin Crossbows
Speciality: Dasher
Synchro-Skill: Mystical Arrowhead
Support Pokemon: Hitmontop
Remaining Team: Sudowoodo, Chimecho, Toxtricity (Amped), Mr. Rime
Likes: Donuts, baby Pokemon
Dislikes: Complete silence, being without Nessa
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“Hold your position, Commander. I want her alive!”
“But Madame President-”
“ I said, alive, Commander!”
Lillith slammed her hand on the table. Another person from her past was in this world, and she had completely forgotten to account for them. The idiocy was manifesting within the president, perhaps a side effect of hanging around Faba too frequently. Behind her chair, two people waited, a rather large man and a young woman wearing a mask.
“I’m going alone,” she told them, “Tabitha, 77, I’m counting on you to make sure our end of the plan proceeds smoothly. Hopefully when I return, we’ll have a new ally on our hands.”
It was odd simply calling Lyra an ally. All the history they shared together came to Lillith’s mind.
Sweet, sweet Lyra. Lillith missed her so. Ever since the unfortunate circumstances that left Lillith’s Alola cold, how she wished she could see her big sister once more. Once the commander had notified her, the girl knew what she had to do. It was too easy. Her Lapras was able to get her to the proper island easily, and from there, all Lillith had to do was wait.
Sitting in a lounge chair and crossing her legs, Lillith kept careful watch on the path. She was keen to meet Lyra as soon as possible, before any of the idiots working with her did something they’d regret.
And speak of the devil.
“Lyra!” Lillith called out, putting on the most innocent act she could, “I’m so happy you’re okay!”
She waves over to the woman, approaching her quickly and hugging her, all while thinking one phrase to herself.
She mustn’t know.
She mustn’t know.
She mustn’t know who I really am.
@alolanqueen || plot
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Take in the View/Taking the Brunt
Two women—a singer and a celestial being—have a heart-to-heart about the impossible standards they hold themselves to.
The art on this piece was a commission from @dapper-lil-arts ! Please check her out she rocks
Eyes–as blue and as vast as the sky, a pair belonging to Polaris–fell upon the Floatzel. This was one of the Gardevoir’s favorites, one of a handful towards which her attention was drawn more strongly than any of the others on the little blue garden world she watched over. She had much potential; the whole world would one day look to her as, now, only a certain admirer and Polaris herself did. Beautiful and confident, a model of grace… at least, most of the time. As Polaris found her now, it seemed she was having a rough night.
She moved part of herself “above” the Floatzel’s apartment. Or “beside”. Neither word was quite correct, but they were both closer than “inside”, at least for the moment. The singer sat at her dresser, looking into a mirror lined with fairy lights. The effect was not unlike the marquee at the lounge where she worked. A bit of motivation, the anodyne intruder supposed. Dressing for the job she wanted, even if it meant taking work home with her. Who could judge her for taking the stage name as her own? Throwing oneself into her work, especially work she was passionate about, work she believed in, was a way of powering through. The mask gets lighter when it becomes a part of you.
Yet, here she was, letting the mask down. She wiped makeup from her face, streaks of black mascara trailing from her eyes, eyeshadow making way for puffy, red circles. Instead of her usual repertoire of sparkling, slitted dresses, she now wore a faded, frayed pink sweatshirt, big enough for the collar to hang off one shoulder, and a baggy pair of pajama pants. Now seemed like as good a time as any for Polaris to step in.
She floated into the room, seemingly from nothing, as though stepping out from behind a lamppost. The three points of her crest, alight with the warm glow of a star, preceded her. Her folded hands, wrapped in matte gray gloves which obscured that same glow from the skin beneath, rested in front of a bell of layered skirts, which fluttered behind her, leaving a glittering cloud of dust in her wake. She now stood across the room, behind the Floatzel, fully visible in the mirror; even if she didn’t announce herself, it would’ve been rude to not make herself known. The Floatzel, for her part, had snatched up an umbrella that was leaning against her dresser, and whirled around to point it at the intrusion.
“Who are you!?” She shouted.
“Eleanor–”
“And how do you know my NAME!!”
“Well–” Polaris hesitated. “You could say I’m quite the fan of yours.”
“You’ve got to be kidding. A stalker? I haven’t been a performer NEARLY long enough for this, I–” the Floatzel stuttered, “I’m calling the boys from the Lounge.”
“You don’t need Derrick and Rodney,” the Gardevoir intoned calmly. “I promise, I’m not here to hurt you. I haven’t been ‘following’ you in the sense that you’re thinking, either.”
“Then just WHAT is this supposed to BE?”
“Don’t I look familiar to you, Eleanor?”
“You look like a crazy cosplayer, is what you look like. Who are you even supposed to be,” she spat, squinting, “Mother Polaris, or something?”
“The very same,” the Gardevoir replied, nodding, doing her best to appear ancient (true) and wise (debatable). Eleanor narrowed her eyes at her for a long moment, utterly still except for an eventual, perplexed blink.
“You’re kidding.”
“You just saw me step out of thin air, then name-drop the exact friends you were thinking of. I’m made of space dust,” she continued, performing a little curtsy that displaced a nebula’s worth of twinkling material from her skirts, “And I’m here because… well, you know why I’m here. That should be a bit of extra proof for you.”
“Why are you here?” Eleanor grilled her, cocking an eyebrow. The Gardevoir shook her head.
“I try not to put words in people’s mouths. I find that it often makes things worse, or reminds them of different problems from the ones I’ve come to help them with.”
“I’m asking you to guess. Maybe I’ll believe you if you get it right.”
“Well,” she began, bowing her featureless face in an approximation of a sigh, “You seemed like you could use someone to talk to. Have you been doubting yourself recently, dear?”
The note of genuine affection in Polaris’ voice seemed to catch Eleanor off guard. While Eleanor was no stranger to Polaris, the same could not be said for the converse. She hesitated, then glanced at the tissues and make-up pads on her dresser.
“Am I really doing so bad,” she asked weakly, shoulders slumping as she turned back toward the celestial woman, “That I’m being visited by… by, by, guardian figures from literal myths?”
“Why don’t you tell me?” The Gardevoir prompted, hovering by the edge of Eleanor’s bed, gently patting a spot next to her. Another moment’s hesitation–another moment’s disbelief–came and went, and the Floatzel acquiesced, joining her on the bed.
“Well, you’re here already, so you must have some idea of it,” she began. Polaris nodded along, encouraging her. “Sometimes… I don’t see a way forward for myself. I know it doesn’t really make sense, I know that. I’m the headliner at a wonderful little club. My boss–”
“Donna? The Lapras.”
“Y…yes, her,” she continued, still unsettled. “She loves having me there. Thinks I’m talented, thinks I liven up the place. My coworkers are all so supportive, too, I just… I don’t know if I’m waiting for some cliché ‘big break’, or if working my way up from the bottom is just going too slowly for me to feel good about it…”
“But?”
“But…” She sighed. She hadn’t admitted this out loud before, or at least, Polaris hadn’t been paying enough attention to hear it. It was rare, but she did have her lapses. They always seemed to be at the most important moments. “I look at the people who have already made it–”
“Like Carlotta. The Altaria, your mentor.”
“Right.”
“And I know that that Purugly is another person you admire.”
“Mhm.”
“You look at them, and you see what?”
“It’s less something I see in them, and more something I don’t see in myself. They’re so, so talented, and… I know my own abilities. I know I’ve worked hard, I practiced, Carlotta took me under her wing to teach her half of what I know herself, and I’ve got her approval for sure. But their work is so inspiring, so moving, and mine is just… well, I’m only me.”
“And you do not hear the same ring in your work, see the same poise in your movement, as you hear and see in theirs?”
“I suppose I don’t. I don’t really know what the difference is. I just don’t feel like I’m enough.”
“Well, I meant what I said earlier. I’m a big fan of yours.” At this, Eleanor barked out a laugh, rubbing one of her eyes with the ball of her palm.
“Aren’t you known for loving everyone on Earth? Caring for all?” She made a wavy little arcing gesture to poke at the grandiosity of it. “That feels almost like a compliment from my mom!” Polaris giggled in return, politely covering the place her mouth would be with a hand.
“I suppose that’s fair. Would it cheer you up at all if I told you a secret about what people call me nowadays?”
“It couldn’t hurt. Normally the best gossip I get is from Donna.”
“You all haven’t always called me Mother Polaris.”
“No?”
“No! In fact, when I first approached you, before I had even chosen the name Polaris for myself, I declared that you all should call me mom.
“PfffHAH! Just mom?”
“Just mom! I listened in on you all for a little while and decided, ‘oh, that’s what I need to be for them, the poor things!’”
“HAAHAHAHA, wow! Just imagining someone who looks as elegant and awe-inspiring as you, who talks as politely as you, just going ‘I’m your mom now’. HA!”
“Thankfully, I developed a better grasp on the nuances and the connotations eventually. I never did want to give up that sort of maternal position, though.”
“Well, you work it,” Eleanor reassured her, her laughter dying down to a faint grin. “It did make me feel a bit better.” There was a long pause. Eleanor looked down at the floor; Polaris suspected she was working up to discussing another difficult subject. Eventually, she spoke again:
“Would it be okay if I talked about something else? I really do appreciate the visit–you’ve already cheered me up, and just the time you took to come see me–but I guess I don’t feel like I’ve gotten it all off my chest.”
“Say as much as you feel you need to, Eleanor. This is what I’m here for,” she comforted the poor thing, though the true depth of the statement was likely lost on her.
“Alright. Thank you.” She paused, finding the words, then discarding them. “So, since we’re talking about names. Um. I don’t get to talk to deities all that often,” she chuckled, feeling awkward. “Can I ask why you settled on Polaris?”
“Dear, I don’t believe that was what you were so worried about saying.” The Floatzel screwed up her lip, glancing away from the Gardevoir. “How about this: I’ll tell you more about my name if you tell me more about how you’re feeling. Are you comfortable with that?” Eleanor slowly dragged her eyes back to meet Polaris’, and hesitantly nodded, taking a deep breath.
“I don’t know if this is the missing… quality that I was talking about earlier, or if it’s something separate, but it’s also part of what’s been bugging me. I look at Carlotta, and honestly, I even look at Donna, and they’re just, so in-their-own-element, so confident, like, like they never miss a beat. And like I said, Carlotta taught me most of what I know–especially, I guess, faking it until I make it.
“But it’s just so hard to keep up with them. I’m exhausted after performing all night, keeping that calm, collected persona up while I chat up the patrons and ‘relax’ with my friends. They don’t even break a sweat. I’ve seen Donna haul a heckler or a creep up by his shirt collar and throw him out into the street, then go right back to laughing with the regulars like it never happened, and I just don’t get it. Carlotta’s smile never wavers for a moment. Donna can keep an eye on us around the clock. It feels like so much more work when I do it than when they do! It takes everything I have just to be at a point where I feel out of my depth, and I know it only gets deeper the further I want to go. I don’t know if I have it in me.”
Polaris nodded thoughtfully, appraising Eleanor before offering a response. She considered what might help her–her, specifically, with her disposition and her problems–to hear in this moment. She couldn’t solve her problem for her, that much she knew; her position relegated her largely to moral support. Even the most basic of contributions, taking an active role like providing reminders of accountability, even just regular encouragement, often felt like an impossible commitment given how she spread her mental resources. Then, ought she reassure the Floatzel? Suggest how she might solve the problem herself?
She decided that a bit of perspective would serve her best, and Polaris was perhaps the best-equipped to provide a step back.
“Eleanor,” she began, smoothing out her skirts, choosing her words deliberately and with consideration, “You already know that I keep track of… well, most things that go on. Yes?”
Eleanor nodded, scooting further onto her bed, having drawn up her knees to her chest.
“Then you’ll trust my insight into your relations.”
She nodded again.
“You are not the only one who struggles to keep up with the demands of her life. Nor are you the only one who keeps up a façade to put their best foot forward at all times. Carlotta would tell you that ‘that’s showbusiness’, but do not mistake me. Neither she nor I tell you this to dismiss your problems, or suggest that you need only get used to it. Rather, it is to instill in you a mutual understanding with your peers: even those of them who appear to succeed effortlessly toil behind closed doors. They have to practice every bit as much as you. They have to take time to decompress as often as you.”
“Right. They’re there to help me and the other girls who work the place feel safe.”
“I… I struggle to see it, even still. I’m sorry.”
“Do not apologize, dear,” Polaris hushed her as she moved closer. “Perhaps this will make it easier. Donna keeps those two Incineroar boys on staff, yes?”
“Of course. And you mentioned that Donna takes such matters into her own hands as well, yes?”
“She does.”
“Do you think that she would bother continuing to pay two employees if she were utterly, totally confident in her ability to keep you safe herself?” A pause, then a defeated sigh through Eleanor’s nose.
“I don’t suppose she would.”
“She would not! Even someone as self-assured, as decidedly capable as Donna knows her limits. But if she were to draw attention to those limits, it might make you and the other girls feel less safe, right?”
“I guess so.”
“They want to seem professional as badly as you do, Eleanor.” She placed a gloved hand on the performer’s shoulder, looking her directly in the eyes. “Your achievements are earned. You are not falling behind. You work harder than most anybody under my watch.”
Eleanor’s eyes fell again, but this time the movement was accompanied by a smile, tinged with relief.
“That… means a lot to hear. Thank you. So much.”
“Of course, dear. Now,” she said, rising to her full floating height, “Is there anything else you wish to talk about? Anything else I can try to help you with?”
“You promised me another story about your name.”
“Ah. That I did.”
“Go ahead! Make yourself comfortable,” Eleanor said, waving to the other half of her bed and to a sofa in the corner of the room. Hardly.
“What was your question again, dear?” The Gardevoir asked, floating away from Eleanor, her skirts rising and then settling as she rested herself in the cushioned chair. “Why I chose my name?”
“Mhm!” She had grabbed a pillow from by the headboard of her bed and was holding it in her lap. She almost seemed like she was sitting at a slumber party, talking about pettier secrets with girlfriends, like who was crushing on who.
“You see…” Yet again, she chose her words carefully. “Motherhood was not the only concept among your cultures that I saw fit to embody. Guidance, constancy, stalwartness… Many cultures rely on the stars for navigation. Their ever-presence, their reliability, makes them indispensable; they serve a necessary function. As for the name Polaris specifically, I found that it was emblematic of these qualities–though I just as well could have found a way to make the Southern Cross my namesake, had I first contacted you below the equator.”
“I see… Names with personal meanings like that are the best ones, in my opinion.”
“I agree. It wouldn’t do for one to live by a name that rang hollow to them. A good name is one that truly represents you, or that you can at least strive to live up to.”
“Do you feel that way about your name?”
“How do you mean?”
“Do you feel like you actively try to live up to it?” So she had caught on. This was why she had tried to depart early, but there was no sense in being rude–or worse, arousing concern–by attempting to worm out of it now. She had had this conversation many times before.
“I do my best,” was Polaris’ outward response.
“And… I’m sorry if this is overstepping, but–”
“No, by all means. You were promised a story, were you not?”
“Are you trying to look professional, too? Maybe, in trying to reassure me, you don’t want to let on that… Well, I don’t want to put words in your mouth.”
“I appreciate that, dear. To answer your question, yes, I was speaking from experience on the subject of façades.”
“I imagine that you’re very busy trying to help everybody on the planet.”
“Yes.”
“And you try to ‘look professional’ for all of them as well, since you find such deep personal meaning in being their rock.”
“Naturally.”
“So have you ever actually… talked to anyone about how stressful it is for you?”
“Of course.”
“Oh.” She seemed taken aback by that answer. “Um.”
“Does that surprise you?”
“I guess I just thought that a goddess would be able to handle it better than a regular girl could? Or that, at least, you could put up with it for longer. I don’t know why I’m surprised that someone who’s been around as long as you have has… had a heart-to-heart with someone before.” She still seemed curious; Polaris could reasonably figure what her remaining unanswered questions were.
“Well, I try not to. For reasons beyond ‘seeming professional’, I mean.” The Floatzel opened her mouth to ask, and Polaris cut her off. “No, I will not give you the details.”
“Why not? It’s only fair that I should offer you help after you’ve cleared my head.”
“Eleanor, do you remember that joke from that old cartoon about whether mailmen deliver their own mail?” She watched her brow furrow in confusion–it was an odd example, she knew, but one that would almost definitely be familiar. After a moment of gear-turning, the Floatzel nodded at her. “There’s a similar saying about therapists: each of them needs a therapist of their own to handle the things they hear about in the course of their work.”
“So why not be each other’s therapists?”
“I’m afraid you don’t understand the things I hear in my work, dear. How can I illustrate this for you…” Polaris brought a hand to her chin and pondered for a moment. These concepts were often difficult for earthly beings to grasp, but she’d had many opportunities to try, and she was reasonably sure she could convey them properly. “Imagine… imagine a mural on the side of the building.”
“Okay.”
“The mural takes up the whole wall of this building.” A nod. “Now imagine that this building is a skyscraper.” Another nod, concern evident on her face. “Imagine that you are big enough that you can take in the mural in its entirety. Then, simultaneously, imagine that you have enough eyes to focus on every inch of that mural at once. Try to appreciate the mural’s every detail, in your mind; not one-by-one, but every detail, with full clarity, all at once. As though there were two sharp spots in the center of your field of vision, but, well, far more than two.”
“I…” The Floatzel shrunk. “Alright. I take your point, I think.”
“What kind of mural might this be, Eleanor? What situations call for a guardian angel to poke her head into your life?”
“Yes. Okay.”
“You can imagine, if the mere concept is this disquieting, why I shy away from confiding fully in any one person.”
“I can.” Once again, Polaris met Eleanor’s eyes. The silence was long. Uncomfortable. “I’m… I’m sorry.”
“There is nothing for you to apologize for, dear. I promised you an answer, and now you have it.”
“No, I mean… I’m sorry that you have to deal with that. Don’t you ever have time to, to rest?”
“Eleanor, I’m with about a dozen people besides you at this very moment.” Another painfully long silence.
“How can you put up with it? I know I push myself for my music, but… that’s something that fulfills me. It’s a calling, I get something out of it.”
“One could say that this is something of a calling for me, as well. Regardless, it is as I said–”
“‘A necessary function`.”
“Indeed.”
Silence.
“Though,” the Gardevoir spoke again, “I suppose that does not answer the question of why I carry on this way.” The Floatzel lifted her chin from her knees and cocked her head at Polaris. “Outwardly, I know, I am quite akin to things you refer to as ‘heavenly bodies’, but I am not actually divine, as many of you assume. As I said, I simply appeared before some of your people; that was shortly after I first made a chance discovery of your world. I did not create you, and while I am not responsible for you…
“Someone of my abilities–my constitution, one who does not tire and sleep the way you earthly beings do, has no need for food or drink… I can. Therefore I should. It is difficult, I suppose, not to feel responsible for you.”
…
“There has to be… has to be something that makes that easier for you, Polaris. Isn’t there anything I can do–anything anyone can do? If you don’t want to… can’t, talk about it, maybe I can do something that isn’t talking.”
This gave Polaris pause; even with the Floatzel’s words ringing in her ears, that fair is fair, and help for help was only reasonable, she… she would have felt deeply that she was imposing by asking for much of anything. Even one of her songs would’ve felt like putting her out of her way, especially since the Gardevoir could listen in on one of her performances on any night she wished. Or. Any night she could spare the attention.
Something that required even less work than that, then. Something the Floatzel could offer that required barely any effort at all. Something Polaris could enjoy merely by being in her presence. She sucked in a deep breath, willing herself not to shudder as she did so.
“Dear. Pardon. Eleanor,” she wrung the words from her throat. “Would you be willing to… simply allow me to hold you? The touch would be… comforting.” She couldn’t meet the Floatzel’s eyes as she spoke, this time. Had her mask been on, Polaris was sure she would’ve had a cute, flirtatious remark about the opportunity to cuddle a goddess instead of just pick her brain, but shake–and mercifully considerate–as she was, she made no such jest.
“Of course. Yes, Polaris, I can.” She placed the pillow aside and patted the bed beside her, opening her arms to the Gardevoir, who drifted to her side like a dry leaf on the wind.
Polaris pulled the Floatzel up halfway onto the mound of her skirts, allowing her to get comfortable. Eleanor, smaller by a head or two, nestled her head against the watcher just beneath her crest, wrapping her arms around her waist. The Gardevoir’s gentle hands rested on her companion’s back, arms draped gingerly over her shoulders.
With her charge no longer looking her in the face, her visage relaxed, and the etchings of exhaustion revealed themselves. Tired circles hung under her eyes like the distortions of gravity around a black hole. If she had a mouth, frown lines would have deepened at its corners. But it was a welcome change. Down came Polaris’ mask, and down were her eyes cast, taking in the sight of the girl who had offered her this act of compassion, this moment of privacy and of connection, both of which the guardian had desperately needed.
Tears welled in her blue eyes, and though she strangled a sob, hoping neither to lose her composure in a way Eleanor could see, nor to disturb her, they began to run down her face. Gleaming, shimmering streaks lined both of her cheeks, now, broad strokes of deep, near-black blues shot through with simmering, rusty red. She hoped Eleanor wouldn’t fall the teardrops falling onto her orange coat, hoped that they wouldn’t stain her dress and leave any evidence of the emotion slipping through the cracks, but ultimately could do nothing to stop it. She couldn’t bring herself to break away from the embrace–its warmth could have filled the whole of her starry domain.
Despite herself, she squeezed the Floatzel ever-so-slightly tighter, and did not let go until she was sound asleep in her lap. Polaris held her for some time even after that, still unwilling to leave this. When she finally collected herself, she disappeared in much the same way as she had arrived, vanishing through a gateway that did not exist, ceasing to intersect with Eleanor’s bedroom. She took great care to set Eleanor down gently as she went, silently thanking her the whole way, and silently vowing to make it to her next show. Even if Eleanor did not know she was there, Polaris would attend. For herself.
#original writing#writeblr#trans author#pokemon#pokemon fanfiction#floatzel#gardevoir#my writing#short story#lapras lounge#indie author
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apricots-from-nara replied to your post “I tried out that horny deomon game Flowers played but I ended up just...”
NICE
Youth tryna fight god or some shit: Miss, your must be cold!
Me, lounging atop my Lapras petting a Spheal: A ho never gets cold.
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4 Bright & Cheerful Interiors That Use White & Wood To Good Effect
White and wood interiors have a wonderfully light air about them, with just the right hint of warmth and texture coming from the natural grain. Having plain white walls helps to make a compact modern apartment feel more spacious within its constraints for sure, but how about splashing some extra interest and a little cheer into that contemporary decor scheme too? These four white and wood interior designs provide clarity of space whilst achieving a bright and cheerful atmosphere thanks to carefully considered layouts, uplifting accent colours, unexpected areas of en vogue pattern and trendy home accessories with an element of fun.
Visualizer: Lapra Laprandiel
The first of our four white and wood based interiors is a living space that combines the kitchen, dining room and lounge areas.
A white sofa is situated at the centre of the longest wall, decorated with one bold geometric print cushion and one a pop of blue. The couch doubles up as banquette seating since one side of the dining table is pushed up flush against it. Four white and wood dining chairs are situated around the remaining sides of the matching modern dining table.
Black metal industrial style lighting hangs in a cluster above the rectangular table surface. Blue decorative vases and blue glasses on the table match the bright throw cushion on the seating.
A neat wall mounted console unit holds electronic devices and media beneath a flat screen television.
White kitchen cabinets span each side of the room, sandwiching the dining and lounge area in the centre.
Monochrome geometric patterned tiles make a beautiful backsplash over each half of the divided kitchen.
Black and white art prints are arranged as a gallery wall over the small sofa.
Designer: Zrobym Architects
Our second modern neutral based interior sees an injection of unusual colour.
A round area rug is rich with swirls of blue, turquoise and green and walls of white curtains are dipped in aqua around this book lover’s living room.
Two mid century style chairs have dark seat cushions on pale wooden frames.
Blue and green decorative vases match the colours of the room, set atop a contrasting modern coffee table that provides an unexpected punch of orange.
A unique floor lamp has an oversized black shade, peering over a beige coloured sofa.
Extra colour explodes from a wall of books that cover one entire wall, right up to the ceiling.
Black framed doors on bespoke storage cabinets add base notes to white and wood hallway decor.
Running directly off the living room is an open plan kitchen, where a white table and matching Scandinavian style chairs stand on top of a wooden floor stripe; the Scandi chairs are the Series 7 by Arne Jacobsen – Fritz Hansen. Wooden kitchen cabinets act as a continuation of the floor stripe, taking it up the wall toward the ceiling to stunning effect. The wooden stripe feature sets the dining area clearly apart from the kitchen, making the two areas appear as entirely separate rooms despite their tight proximity.
The white and wood kitchen uses plain slab fronted units for both white and wood volumes for seamless continuity.
Simple LED strip lighting illuminates the kitchen prep area.
Visualizer: Ines Käärma
Our third featured white and wood home interior also uses a splash of blue to liven things up, in the form of a glassy blue feature wall and a blue sectional sofa.
Unusual zigzag lights adorn the ceiling in a repeat of three.
A wooden dining table has been coupled with black modern dining chairs.
The wood tone of the dining table matches the cabinets in the kitchen to create one cohesive visual through the open plan living space.
To the other side of the lounge area, a double workspace stretches along a plain white wall. Two black desk chairs sit at a dual length white desk.
Flooring throughout the home is wood plank to add a touch of warmth at the base of ice white walls.
A teal rattan footstool sits at the base of a unique coat stand in the hallway.
In the master bedroom there is a Tolomeo wall lamp mounted over each side of the bed. Each swing arm wall lamp can be maneuvered over a bedside unit or positioned for use as a reading light. Sheer white curtains complete the all encompassing white surround of the room. In front of the window, a black plant stand presents a moment of interest.
Blue completely takes over in the bathroom, obliterating all woodtone from the scheme.
White goods jostle up against a white vanity unit.
An indoor balcony area provides a quiet spot where wood tone returns in earnest. Rustic wood plank walls and a wooden ceiling surround the impromptu arrangement of tables and chairs. Grey tile covers the floor.
Visualizer: Siddharth Kinjavdekar
This apartment in the Maldives combines beachy accents of yellow and aqua across an open plan living room, in the form of modern accent chairs, scatter cushions and decorative vases.
A slender gold floor lamp lights a spot on the modern sofa. Two cone pendant lights illuminate the dining table behind.
The blue cushioned kitchen bar stools appear to be the Mention the kitchen bar stools seem to be the Lucy counter stools. Their copper frames nicely complement the warmth of nearby woodtone.
Colourful indoor herb planters adorn one end of a white marble worktop. Their graphic prints pick up on the playful red chairs by the window.
Cobalt blue bedroom pendant lights brighten each side of a textured bedroom feature wall. A unique ceiling fan blends with its white surrounds.
A yellow floor reading lamp matches sunshine throw pillows on a grey bedroom sofa.
This bedroom concept expands upon the use of yellow within a white and wood bedroom decor scheme. A headboard strip light adds to the glow of two bedside table lamps..
In the master bathroom concept we return to neutrals.
A mocha coloured vanity unit matches the wooden portion of the floor.
A metal toilet paper holder looks industrial on a concrete backdrop.
Greenery adds a final flourish to the double sink bathroom vanity.
Recommended Reading:
25 White And Wood Kitchens
50 Wooden Wall Art Decor
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Wooden Wall Designs: 30 Striking Bedrooms That Use The Wood Finish Artfully
Three Contemporary Interiors Making The Most of Light Wood
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PoGo Fest: Chicago
I currently have a mixture of emotions, but it’s mainly just disappointment. I attended PoGo Fest in Chicago today with an old roommate of mine. Going into it, I think everyone had high expecations and wild desires of what was to come–I know my friend and I did.
And oh my, I was surprised to find that Niantic squirmed out of this situation.
Firstly: my experience. My friend and I (codenamed Zebra from here on out) drove out from my house on Friday, arrived at our hotel that night, woke up at 4:30, got in line for the First Catch Hour, and participated in the event from opening til 6:30ish.
Now that’s the short version. Here’s a lengthier description with feelings:
Zebra and I were extremely excited to see each other again and spend some time playing a mutual favorite game at the first ever official, in-person, and live event. The roadtrip there seemed pretty short (compared to what others had to take), but we spent the entire time talking and speculating how we think the event will roll out. We knew that there will be three challenge windows and a mystery challenge if everyone globally participates well enough. We knew what bonuses were given if we caught certain amounts of different types of Pokemon.
But what we didn’t know, was that the event would be a disastrous and borderline-riot flop.
“I wonder if each team gets their bird, and we all share Lugia?”
“I bet we choose our own bird out of the four including Lugia.”
We fell asleep Friday the 21st with all of these thoughts and hopes in our minds. We woke up the next morning for the event at 4:30 and rushed ourselves ready to be the first ones in line for the First Catch Hour. Granted, we were told that the line couldn’t start earlier than 6, buuut we figured 5:40ish wouldn’t hurt. We found two Mystic players right outside our hotel doors that helped us to the gate. There were already about 35 people in line.
It was raining.
Zebra and I met some amazing people in line. One of them (apologies if I get the username wrong) being WildJoker1111. An elderly man still in his youth playing PoGo because of his granddaughter.
Level 40. A Dragonite with 100% IVs, a perfect legacy moveset, and roughly 3500 kilometers walked. A legend amongst his community, and now an icon stamped in my mind.
We all waited for hours until 9:00 rolled around and the gates.. Didn’t open. People started chanting: “Nine o'clock! Nine o'clock!”
The gates were opened just a few minutes shy of the original time at 9:00 to 9:03.
This was just one of the many red flags for PoGo Fest: Chicago.
We entered. Zebra and I got through security no problem. Checked our bags, went through a metal detector, and checked in using our wristbands. Each individual player received an envelope with a welcome message and a QR code to scan after spinning your first PokeStop and officially enter the arena.
Another red flag: after attempting to scan my QR code, my game crashed. Which *rarely* happens.
I try again, and it works the second time around. Zebra and I immediately run over to the concession stands to buy bottles of water and see if food is prepared, as we didn’t own any water bottles to begin with and we were fairly hungry.
We ran over to check all of the team lounges. By now, the rain had stopped, but one very large issue ruined most of the experience for me: the thick and sloppy mud spread across the entire main field. Aside from the main walkways, there weren’t any spots to find comfortable or dry footing. Even the area under the tents/lounges were soaking wet (which, mind you, *did not* change throughout the entirety of the event).
Big red flags came up, even during this First Catch Hour: my game is extremely laggy, my phone is already hot, and the game crashes occasionally whenever I tried to interact with things (Pokemon, PokeStops, and Gyms).
Nevertheless, Zebra and I pressed on. I was excited to find that each designated area of the field had a certain extra spawn rate for certain types. Valor’s lounge area was fire, Mystic’s was water, Instinct’s was electric, and there were spots on the other side of the main street for grass and rock Pokemon.
The more people that piled in, the more I found my game crashing, not loading things in properly, and lagging. Around 10, people were still flowing in from the First Catch Hour, which made their ‘bonus’ useless.
There were people calling out Unown spottings, but Zebra and I followed a herd of players towards the ass-end of the field.
A Heracross.
We were told on the main announcement page for PoGo Fest that there would be Pokemon that we normally couldn’t find in our region here. In North America, we have Tauros. Elsewhere in the world, there’s Heracross, Corsola, Farfetch’d, Mr. Mime, and Kangaskhan.
When we found the Heracross, my hopes for catching my beloved Kangaskhan soared higher, higher, and… Much too high for the Niantic team to pull off. Heracross and Unown would be the only ones making special appearances during PoGo Fest. This would be another red flag for me.
So, we notice that there are raids spawning at every gym in the field. After about fifteen minutes, they hatch into none other than the Pokemon poster child: Pikachu. From there on out, there would be raids spawning at certain times (usually at the start of challenge windows). Rhydon, Charizard, and Lapras to name a few. This would have been amazingly cool…
If I could have played the game.
After the Pikachu raid, there were just more and more players flowing into the field from the check-in area. Which brings down more and more bandwidth. Which slows down games. Which leads to being unable to play the majority of the time.
It felt like Zebra was catching Pokemon well enough with his PoGo Plus–I was vanilla without one. It seemed that the Plus removed the lag and latency issue of interacting with the Pokemon by clicking on it, whereas my game crashed more often from tapping on them.
Every time we were all called to the main stage for announcements, people would boo the main spokeslady and CMO of Niantic. They would chant about the servers being down. They would chant to ask for a working game. It seemed childishly violent–like an eight-year-old throwing a temper tantrum in Walmart because his parent doesn’t have the money to buy a dinosaur toy.
The parent doesn’t know what to do–they try compromising with the child, saying that there’s always tomorrow. They try bargaining. They try other methods. But the child keeps arguing and crying for the toy. That’s what it felt like to be at PoGo Fest the majority of the time.
The statistics for beating each challenge (Bronze, Silver, and Gold) were constantly changing due to the playstyle of trainers. At first, the numbers were each boosted up six thousand to complete them because there was a full house of 20k players. When the servers couldn’t handle themselves due to immense traffic, they went down. When people almost rioted if they didn’t get their legendaries, they went down even further.
In the end, I’m disappointed in the event, but I’m damn happy I went. My name goes down in history, I get some sweet consolation prizes, and I met and spoke with a *lot* of cool new people. And that’s what I wanted out of this.
Niantic *cannot* underestimate its playerbase. This is more proof on top of the launch of the game that they need to plan for extremely large amounts of traffic. They aren’t solely to blame–cell phone heads like the sponsoring Sprint and Boost Mobile needed to allow extended bandwidth and access in Grant Park for that amount of time for the event. If Niantic set up a widespread WiFi spot and this still happened, then it’s all on them.
Bottom line: I’m personally okay with the experience, I’m disappointed in how the event was handled, and I’m extremely sorry for the people who traveled so far to get to Chicago. Overall, mixed feelings–mainly disappointment.
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Negyedik hét
Történetünk ott maradt félbe, hogy vasárnap éjfél környékén enyhén tintás Barnes állapotomban tértem nyugovóra...
Kari #3
Fél 10 környékén keltem a kanapén, szerencsére az évek meg a rutin, a nyári felkészülés az ünnepi időszakra sikeres volt, az este épp csak enyhén apatikusra mart meg, minden jól van úgy ahogy, nem kell ez a stressz..
Kezdésnek meglátogattam nagybátyámat, ahova a külföldről szokás szerint zsákmányolt helyi jellegű dzsinn társaságában szambáztam be. Kóstolni ilyenkor nem szoktunk, az utóbbi időben sűrűbben utazgattam, mint amilyen tempóban fogy a gin, úgyhogy bekerült a kamrába a többi trófea közé :) Innen újra meglátogattam Nagyimat, majd a 4es metró névre keresztelt féregjárat segedelmével landoltam Kelenföld City-ben. Apropó, előző napi report-ból kifelejtettem, hogy hugimmal, a világ kitrécselése közepette, végül vettünk egy 72 órás BKV jegyet nekem. Most már papírom van róla, hogy bödös turista vagyok Budapesten, hisz ki más járkál ilyennel? :) Nyah, szóval Kelenföld, meg minden, Fehérvár-fehérvár állomás a target, de persze most ment el minden vonat, meg a mozdonyvezetőknek éppen pihenő ideje van, 40 perc várakozás következett. Megpróbáltam feltérképezni, hogy enni tudok-e valahol, azt ugyanis ezeddig, ma még nem tettem meg. A resti zárva, mellette egy „Fornettis” tárva nyitva, de egy tálca megszáradt pékárun kívül mást nem nagyon kínált, pedig az ajtón hatalmas betűkkel reklámozta a bécsis zsemléjét :( Kaja postponed.
A vonaton beültem egy „kurva anyját az egész világnak” típusú anyuka mellé. Tőlünk 5 méterre úgy 4 gyerek nyúzta egymást, ami nekem fel sem tűnt egész addig, míg ez, mellettem, el nem kezdett morogni, hogy: „bezzegha az ő gyerekei, naőkbazzeg bezzeg, na nem viselkednének így vazze”. Áldás békesség, a kezdeti gondolatok után, hogyan adjam tudtára, hogy nem kell mindenkinek olyan fapicsának lennie mint ő, inkább visszafordultam az ablak felé, és élveztem a suhogó tájat.
Végül landoltam Fehérváron. Az állomáson átlibbenve, meglátván a jegypénztár köríves pultját, kitört rajtam a nosztalgia, enyhén bepárásodott a tekintetem a szenvedélyes emlékektől. Rájöttem, hogy jéé, valamikor az elmúlt éveken egyszer mekkorát anyáztam itt, mikor nem várt meg minket egy átszállás. Na de nekiindultam az OBI-Interspar irányába. Ez megint nagy meglepődés volt, emellett lakik unokatsóm akit látogatni jöttem, és ez az a lokáció, ahol az idei Fezen üres napközbéit eltengettük a parkolóban, az Intersparból zsákmányolt szajrén kérődzve. Illetve, volt egy különálló, renitens csapat, akik a parkoló helyett az OBI kerti asztal installációjában találták meg életük értelmét, s egyben az ebéd helyét. Sajnos a biztonsági őr kevésbé látta a helyzet marketingértékét, így csakhamar visszazavarta Hugyosjózsiékat a parkolóba hozzánk. Na, szóval, kicsi a világ. Most ez volt az a hely, ahol a Spar-benzinkúton találtam sajtos parajos fusilli-t (egészségemre, nevezzük inkább csak orsótésztának). Belaktam, majd belekóstoltam a kisfiús anyukák önfeledt, energiától kicsattanó, nyugodalmasnak nyomokban sem nevezhető életébe. Kettő darab órát voltam csak ott, de olyan szinten szopta le az összes energiámat a kis tökös, hogy halvány lilám nincs róla, hogyan lehet ezt napi jelleggel bírni.
A következő program pont ideálisan lett időzítve, Árpád-fürdő, szétázás. Kicsit bátran vágtam bele az útba, a telómon jól elment a zinternett, de okos csávó vagyok én, odatalálok. Na, pont mikor épp a rossz irányba indultam volna, jöttem rá, hogy az nem úgy van az, én majom kikapcsoltam fél hete a mobilnetet, valami furcsa megfontolásból. Visszanyomtam hát, korrigáltam a röppályámon, aztán fürdőtársam átkarolva nekiindultunk a pancsolásnak. 16:40 körül érkeztünk, 5től pedig már program volt a gőzfürdőben. A medencék sem rosszak, de az igazán jó része a fürdőnek az egészkor felsorakoztatott showműsorok, amiket a fürdőmesterek ejtenek meg, hol a gőzfürdőben, hol a szaunában. Utóbbiban 6kor és 8kor is jártunk. Aki szereti a szaunák világát, de nem próbálta még azt az érzést, amikor a fürdőmester egy törölközővel legyezve küldi rá a 90 fokos szaharai léghullámokat, az most gyorsan szégyellje el magát, és pótolja a hiányosságát, a világ legjobb dolga. Zene is szólt közben, lett is egy gyengus Dzsordzsmájkül mérgezésünk, de ezt a 8as program szépen helyretette. Félidőben egy vödörből jeget szórtak ránk a mesterek, majd a végén egy bőlére eresztett felöntést követően a Guns'n'roses aláfestésével kaptunk olyan ventillációt, hogy mintha napalmmal szórtak volna meg, de mi közben 30 másik emberrel tomboltunk a Guns-ra :) Mesteri befejezés.
Úgy F10 körül zárt a hely, nekiindultunk hát keresni valami éttermet. Itt megint nagy felfedezés volt, hogy a sarkon van az az FHB fiók, ahol az Allianz-os utasbiztosításom kapcsán jártam még Fezen alatt. No, találtunk egy valami nyitva levő forma vendéglátóipari egységet, de idegenvezetőm elmondása szerint sznobabb hely az mint szeretnénk (értsd: puccos, drága, de nem annyira finom. Form-over-function), így mindent egy lapra téve fel, átmentünk egy másik helyre, ami talán még nyitva van. A másik hely: A Marxim. Mint kiderült, nem csak Pesten (Budán), van ilyen. A tulaj a szemével ölt, mikor pizzát akartam rendelni, kettőt. Végül egyben megalkudtunk. Na jó, az alkudozás túlzás, ő ajánlotta fel egyből. Aklimatizálódás után már láttuk az emberünkön, hogy jólelkű, de amikor 30 vendéget kell étellel, itallal ellátnia, akkor szépen komótosan azért még őt is elönti az agyfasz. Az egész napom arról szólt, hogy nem igazán ettem, mert szart azt minek. Hát, itt a csávó olyan pizzát rántott össze, mindamellett, hogy talán egyetlen percet ha szánhatott rá, hogy le a kalappal. Milliméter vékony tészta, ízletes paradicsomszósz, finom feltétek, minden grammja kincs volt. Aztán pár korsó sör után eltettük magunkat másnapra.
Kari #4
Reggel a Lipótiban reggeliztünk, sajna Cserpes termékek már ugye nincsenek, így csak egy szenyát, aztán pályaudvar. Elengedtem egy minden-bokorban-megálló jellegű szerelvényt, hogy a 30 perccel rövidebb menetidővel felszerelt gyorsvonattal ugorjak vissza a fővárosba. Mikor rájöttem, hogy van ilyen opció, vettem is gyorsan külön egy 150 Ft-os helyjegyet rá. De minek. Mikor épp mentem volna ki a peronra, vettem észre, hogy 55p késéssel indul a buli. Így lett a vége Zónázó, keblére ölelt a MÁV is, isten hozott itthon :P
Délben megint meglátogattam anyumat, 2re elmentem fodrászhoz, aki csak miattam beugrott dolgozni (meg mert jól elfelejtette, hogy 27ét beszéltük meg :P), itt időt szakítottam a 100L-es bőröndöm telepakolására. Ebbe a körbe befért egy cipősdoboznyi könyv is, pár játék (Battle line, Cards Agains Humanity). Hugimnál zabálás f5kor, aztán f7 körül átszambáztam Gy-hez kidumálni a világot, egy üveg fröccs, meg némi portói támogatásával. És kérem indult az este, vol 4.
Taxival felszedtük a hugomat, kidobtuk Gy-t Kelemennek Kabátban, majd csobbantunk az Akváriumban, ahol a 9re kiírt Brains nyilván csak 9:30 körül kezdődött (és még így is sokkal jobban jártunk, mint a veszprémi buliban, ahol hasonló kezdést végül 10:48kor sikerült a srácoknak tető alá hozni.) A Halott Pénzzel közös nótázás az sajnos át lett téve a következő napra, de egy Rock'n'roll rugója azért így is jutott nekünk, illetve meglepő módon elég hely a tömegben egy kis ugrándozáshoz. A mai 1 órás kardio is megvolt :) Koncert után 3ból meglátogattunk 2 ellátót (-kert, -ház), végül a Lámpásban tömtük az arcunkba a világ legfinomabb pogácsáját. Időközben elvesztettem hugimat, 1 körül pedig rádöbbentem, hogy ideje lőni a pizsit, ha nem akarok húzós áron venni egy pót-repülőjegyet.
Vissza a balettba
Hétkor keltem, végtelen izgalommal, vajon lesz-e taxi, vajon mindenki most akar-e kimenni a reptérre? Hát, ahogy ilyenkor lenni szokott, végtelen + 20perc is volt az indulásig. Igen, most 20 perc csúszással adtak fel minket. Előtte kiélveztem a Sky Lounge svédasztalának varázslatos kis világát, felfedeztem az emeleten, a Costa kávézó mellett „elrejtett” csocsóasztalt, és összefutottam Leroy-éknál 2 svejci ismerőssel is :) Becsekkolásnál láttam egy 3., Zsuzsit is, de ő olyan jól elbújt, hogy csak már a zürichi villamoson sikerült megfejteni, hogy egy géppel jöttünk :)
A felszállás az a műfaj, amikor az ember olyat gyorsul mint ritkán, érdemes tehát jól kihasználni ezt a lehetőséget. Eddigi kísérletezéseim során úgy találtam, hogy a Prodigy – Voodoo People nótájának Pendulum-féle feldolgozása, ha akkor pöccinti be az ember, mikor a gép pont befordult irányba a kifutón, ideális aláfestést ad a manővernek. Ha valakinek van javaslata alternatív felszállós soundtrack-re, kérem juttassa el hozzám!
Kloten-ből már elég rutinosan mozgok, elvégre már harmadik alkalommal járok arra, és itt faszán be van kötve a vonat a terminálra. Najó, pont lekéstük a jó vonatot, úgyhogy nagy segítség volt, hogy Zsófi eligazított a HB (Főpályaudvar) irányába menő vonathoz. Ott aztán nagyon májernek éreztem már magam. S2, S4, S8, S24 mind jó nekem, hát hajrá, rászálltam az első S8 kiírásra, mint légy a légykajára, már majdnem a vonaton voltam mikor gyanús lett a helyzet, és összeraktam, hogy ezek a vonatok általában jönnek is onnan ahova mennek, ergo a rossz irányba csak nem kellene felszállnom. Lényeg a lényeg, egyszer csak aztán beértem a dolgozóba, iparkodtam 7ig, majd konstatáltam, hogy a céges menzán nincs vacsi, a boltok a kecó környékén meg 8kor zárnak, úgyhogy véget vetettem a Miki mókatárának, és elhúztam Lappföldre zabothegyezni. Annyi még hozzátartozik a melóhoz, hogy 5 körül olyan szinten volt a zenergiám, hogy kénytelen votlam az évi 4db-os kvótámban ellőni egy redbull-t, úgyhogy ezt a repülővel megyek dolgozni témát jól lehúzom a bakancslistáról, és igyekszem nem abuzálni többet. Az esti bevásárlás óbazdmeg pillanata az volt, amikor konstatáltam, hogy a „zsemlék” itt 0.65-0.75 pénzért kaphatóak (kb. 75g), míg a félkilós vekni kenyér 1.10CHF. A mattot meg az adta, hogy a kenyér le volt akciózva félárra. Szóval vehettem kenyeret 150 Ft-ért, vagy egy darab zsemlét 200 Ft-os áron. Vettem hát kenyeret, azt hiszem nem vagyok még eléggé svájci...
Megjött közben a Kindle Paperwhite típusú készülékem is. Tokot is akartam rendelni hozzá, de láttam pár tok leírásában, hogy minden Kindle-höz jó, dejó! Hát a faszt jó, 3 milliméterrel keskenyebb lett, úgyhogy a régi tokomat kenhetem a hajamra. No de miért is lepődöm meg, nyilván egyik cég se hagyna ki ilyen ziccert, amikor új kiegészítőket lehet eladni. Azért az a feeling még mindig megvan, hogy a készülékre már rá van töltve a felhasználóm, amint bekapcsoltam üdvözölt, és lerántotta a már megvásárolt könyveimet. Pazar.
Ja, a modulo szappan eltört, nem kaptam újat, úgyhogy végül a Dennerből szereztem ilyen nyomós fost, végre legalább nem a tusfürdőmet használom kézmosásra.
A csonka hét
Csütörtökön semmi említésre méltó nem történt. Hacsak azt nem számítjuk ide, hogy találtam egy vidámparkba illő kosárlabdázós játékot. Dobálni kell a lasztit, 30 másodperce van az embernek, hogy minél több pontot szerezzen. Úgy negyedik játékra sikerült összehozni 30 pontot, ekkor kiderült, hogy vannak a játéknak további szintjei is. A második fokozatnál jobbra balra mozog a gyűrű, így kell ügyesnek lenni. 79 pont fölé sose sikerült jutni, így nem derült ki, hogy van-e következő szint, cserébe olyan igazán istenesen felbasztam az agyamat rajta, hogy mennyit bénázok, és úgy toporzékoltam mint egy szaros 4 éves :o Ha biztiőr lennék, tuti úgy raknám a kamerákat, hogy a gép előtere beleessen a látószögbe... :) Nos, remélem nem találkozunk a közeljövőben az esethez kapcsolódó vicces YouTube-os videóval :P
Pénteken reggel a szokásos edzést toltam, a karácsonyi menük után az atléta úgy feszült bojler felsőtestemre, mint a 7barra fújt tracking gumi. Este 1 órát doboltam. Ezúttal a Vic Firth cég oldalára kavarodtam el rudimenteket keresgélve, és rájöttem, hogy azért az eddigi Udemy-s dobtanfolyam a könnyebbik végénél fogatta meg velem azt a bizonyos dobverőt. Azért vannak itt beláthatatlan mélységek még. Este sok hasznosat csinálhattam volna, ezek között nem volt ott például az, hogy Louis C.K.-t nézzek, úgyhogy ja de, megnéztem.
Last call, Mr. 2016
A szombat igazán lustán indult. Idővel összeraktam, aztán a nagy tervet. Az első része az volt, hogy végre napközben itthon vagyok, hát berakok egy mosást. Ez már csak azért sem volt annyira rossz ötlet, mert reggel az utolsó zoknit vadásztam le a szekrényből.
A második, még előrelátóbb lépés a tervben a bevásárolás volt. Franc se tudja, hogy a hétfői regionális hálidéj azt jelenti-e, hogy a boltosok is otthon józanodnak. Nem kellene rizikózni 2 nap koplalást, bár szómiszó mondjuk pont rám férne. Elmentem hát a boltba, vettem egy üveg gint, egy üveg portóit, 2 üveg bort, meg 6 sört, egy vekni kenyeret, meg egy lityó tejet. A szokásos ünnepi menü. Van itt a mellettem levő Dennerben egy nagyon cuki pénztáros csaj, németül elmagyarázta, hogy az egyik üveg boromon nincs vonalkód, és így nem sokra megy vele. Ezt kb. úgy megértettem, integettem neki, hogy mindegy, akkor hagyjuk, de ő csak erősködött. Akkor azért bekértem, hogy ha lehetne csináljuk ezt a dolgot tovább angolul. Erre ő felajánlotta, hogy Itáliánó? Mondom nájn. Eszpányol? Kezdtem lemaradni, úgyhogy ráerősítettem: Magyar? Fransze? Így a végén 3:3ban kiegyeztünk, közben az egyik kollegina meg kerített egy vonalkódos verziót a boromból. Kész siker.
Hazaértem után egy kicsit leültem blogolni, aztán egy kicsit évtervezni, aztán félbehagytam az egészet a p*csába, és felkerekedtem, mert du. 3 óta lepörögtem kb. már egy egész balatonkört, ideje volt hát, hogy induljon a buli. A lehetséges útvonalak közül a legsimább, legkényelmesebb, leg kevésbé rizikós verziót választottam, felültem a ház előtt a villamosra, utaztam vele 35 percet, kb. 24 megállót, aztán 5 perc nyílegyenes gyaloglással sikerült f8kor elsőnek megérkezni a buliba. De aztán már csőstül jöttek a többiek is, végtelen mennyiségű bármink is volt, a szkútertől a 90es évek magyar diszkógyöngyszemeiig minden lement, a lányok a kanapén ugráltak, aztán az egyikőjük a hátamon lovagolt egyszer csak, aztán pörögtünk, forogtunk, egy kis dombra lecsücsültünk, hopp, az mondjuk qrvára egy ps4-volt amire ráestem, de szerencsére a Sony e téren jobb munkát végzett, mint a Samsung a Note 7 aksijával, nem sikerült kárt tenni benne. :) Ahogyan az ilyenkor lenni szokott: Archeológusaink az írásos emlékek alapján kicsivel hajnali 5 utánra datálják a buli végét.
Dél körül kezdett ébredni a kollektív tudat, felküzdöttük magunkat függőleges gerjesztettségi szintre, majd mindenki a maga kényelmes módján beleolvadt a lakás öntisztulási szeánszába. Fél óra múlva pedig már a csirkés virsli lakmározásával voltunk elfoglalva. Közben Farkas barátom bereklámozta, hogy főz lencsét, s ha átmegyünk kapunk. Aztán a lencse elfogyott. Napasztmek. Ekkor rövid ideig utáltuk. Szerencsére vállalta, hogy főz újat, így autóval átgurultunk 1 km-rel odább, szedtem 3szor is, majd bevettük a kanapét. 4en sokan voltunk rá, úgyhogy a végén a kidobódás mellett döntöttünk. Illetve, így, hogy este 7 felé járt az idő, megszavaztam, hogy végre hazajövök.
Itthon aztán ráakadtam a 12majom című sorozatra, 6 részt nagy hirtelen meg is bírtam belőle, és elmormoltam egy üdvözlégyet, hogy a hétfői nap regionális hálidéj, pótvasárnapnak nekem pont jó lesz.
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Filling In for the Boss
Something I wrote for my bestie Bowsiosaurus involving my own cast of OCs. Vee enjoys the scenario of finding verself having simply REPLACED an existing character, and experiencing reality catching up with the change and making ver "fit" into that character's spot. This time vee replaced one of my characters! I hope you enjoy that process, as well as getting to see more of the Lapras Lounge =^w^=
CW: Big Lady TF
Here's a little art vee did, as an eye-catch for ny'all <3
Bowsie, not for the first time, and likely not for the last, awoke in a room that wasn’t vers.
An unfamiliar alarm clock was what roused the little sea serpent from ver slumber; the second giveaway was just how dark it was. Usually, in ver own room, there was at least some light leaking in through the window. As vee slithered out from under the covers—the mattress was a lot stiffer than vee was used to, vee noticed—and felt around the room, vee followed a tiny sliver of sunlight that traced the edge of a large windowsill. Pulling back the thick, heavy crushed-velvet curtains, vee found verself looking out at the skyline of a large city: skyscrapers in the distance, a busy street a few stories beneath ver feet, and the sun hanging low in the sky, casting a hazy yellow glow over the world.
Well, vee thought to verself, I guess that’s one clue as to whose life I’ve stumbled into this time. They must be well-off to afford a place like this. Ver eyes swept across the now-illuminated room—it wasn’t opulent, but it was spacious, and in a high-rise in what looked like a downright metropolis. The covers were thin, but quite soft, and embroidered with tasteful geometric designs that reminded Bowsie of the sorts of fabrics vee saw in movies from the 1920’s. That told them something about the owner’s tastes, but…
What kind of person sets an alarm for six o’clock in the afternoon? Vee wondered. At least vee woke up on time for whatever this person’s schedule looked like. Now the only question was, what did vee have to go and do on their behalf?
Vee decided vee would start looking for clues in the closet. Vee jittered slightly as vee approached what looked like a walk-in—yet another sign that this was somebody with a bit of money, and one who cared about looking respectable, at that. This part was always something of a thrill; it wasn’t so much that vee was invading somebody’s privacy, doing something that should’ve been “off-limits”. After all, it’s not like there was anybody around whose privacy could be violated. Once Bowsie showed up, it was only a matter of time before it was ver personal spaces, anyway!
No, more than that, it was the suspense of getting an idea of who vee was about to become. It didn’t help that vee had a knack for being transported into the lives of older… larger… very, very attractive women. The thought that vee would cease to be verself in as quickly as a few hours, and be someone much more experienced, much more confident instead… it never failed to send butterflies fluttering through ver light-scaled tummy.
Vee reached ver stubby paw toward the handle—one of the last times vee would be seeing it, vee faintly registered—and slid the door open to find a large, neatly-organized collection of professional wear. Pantsuits, blazers, pencil skirts, a handful of nightgowns—all, as vee had hoped predicted, several sizes too big for ver as vee was now. Was she some kind of executive? A politician? This was certainly modest housing for ver idea of a CEO, and not quite as secure as vee would expect for someone in a high-profile position, so vee didn’t quite think that was it. Still, it was clear that she was the boss of something, and that she not only had the cash to amass a collection of formalwear like this, but good reason for it to see frequent use. Vee was really going to have to fake it till vee made it, this time around…
Vee reached up again and unhooked one of the simpler, more modest outfits from the rack: a blouse, a straight skirt, and a pair of pumps. While most of the time, vee didn’t need to cover much to stay modest, that didn’t tend to stay true as a day like this progressed, and vee could tell by the size of this woman that there would be a lot for vee to cover. Laying it out on the bed and closing the door behind ver, vee ambled out of the room in search of something a bit more actionable as far as what vee’d be responsible for this evening.
The entryway to the apartment had a number of prominently-displayed pieces of memorabilia along the walls, as well as a few upholstered seats. Whoever owned the place, it was apparently where she hosted guests, or at least was the first thing she wanted them to see if they ever stopped briefly in. Most of them were autographed photographs of a number of people that Bowsie didn’t recognize: a stout Purugly who oozed self-confidence even from the faded glossy paper on which she was pictured; a slender, graceful Altaria featured on a framed piece of instant-development film; a Floatzel, in full color rather than the sepiatone or yellowed paper from the 60’s or 80’s, whose headshot looked like it could’ve been printed yesterday. A further look around confirmed this—their debut posters were mounted in mock marquis frames, like the advertisements outside a movie theater, and the Floatzel’s first performance was someplace called the “Lapras Lounge” just a couple years ago.
Was this woman some kind of… talent agent? It’d make sense for someone like that to live in the middle of the city, and vee supposed it would make decent money. If the Lounge belonged to her, it would also explain the scale of her wardrobe—a Lapras could get up to five hundred pounds! Though, Bowsie had dealt with enough older women to know never to bring up a fact like that to one of their faces (even if vee did find the fact to be very fun). In any case, now all vee had to do was figure out where the Lounge was! Or at least, how to get in touch with one of the employees… The Floatzel seemed like a safe bet.
A small table near the door held most of her day-to-day necessities: a purse, her cell phone (plugged in somewhere apart from her room—she must have had some firm boundaries between her personal life and her “day” job), a pair of reading glasses, so on and so forth. Vee unlocked the phone, pausing as vee realized that certain, habitual things were already slipping into ver mind. Vee really didn’t have much time to get everything in order, did vee? Of course, once everything went through and they fully took over for this woman, vee would just handle everything exactly as she would, but the both of them would be late if vee didn’t get the show on the road now. Collecting verself, vee began scrolling through the phone’s contacts until vee saw one that matched the name on the poster: Eleanor Ángeline. The phone rang a few times, then clicked through to the other end.
“Donna?” came a silky voice on the other end. “You don’t usually call last-minute like this. Is the program different tonight?”
“H-hi, um, Eleanor,” the serpent haltingly replied, struggling to keep ver voice from coming out with the tone of a question. Vee cleared ver throat and tried again: “I just wanted to ask, how were you planning on getting to, to w-work? Tonight?”
“I was just going to drive. What, did so many VIPs decide to drop in on a moment’s notice that I won’t be able to fit?”
“Oh, no! I just—” vee fumbled around for an excuse, and spotted a way to kill two birds with one stone. “I just, was wondering! Would you be able to drive me tonight?”
“Are you feeling sick or something, Donna? You sound a bit different. Your voice keeps catching.”
“Uh—yes! Yes, I’m a little… under the weather, tonight,” vee said, craning ver neck up at the ceilings that were clearly built for someone at least twice ver height.
“Well, it’s not like you to ask for help, either, so it must be pretty bad. Are you sure you’re alright to open at eight?”
“Theeeeee… show must go on?”
“Ha! Now that sounds like you. Let me know if you want me to pick up some cold medicine or something on my way over.” The connection went quiet, and Bowsie’s shoulders relaxed. Either vee was changing a bit quicker than vee thought vee would, or vee was getting better at guessing how ver “host” usually acted. Either way, vee knew vee had to be ready within the hour—city traffic was never fun, and for all vee knew, Eleanor would try to pick ver up early for whatever pre-show preparation she and Donna—her name was Donna! Vee’d have to keep that in mind—usually did. Wait, she had asked whether vee could “open”... vee dearly hoped vee hadn’t gotten it backwards, and that Eleanor was the headliner to ver opening act. Too late now, though. Hopefully, if vee had to go onstage, it’d be after Donna had fully returned.
Bowsie’s confidence in ver Donna act faltered when Eleanor finally arrived. The poster didn’t do her justice—the way her dress and her fluffy tails flowed as she walked her self-assured walk made her seem as though she was always gliding through the water, right at home anywhere she went. She was pretty, too, and her voice was much nicer to listen to when it wasn’t filtered through the tinny grain of a phone line. It didn’t help that she was a head taller than Bowsie—any woman vee had to tilt ver head up to speak to was enough to kick ver heart rate up at least a notch.
The ride itself was mostly uneventful. Thankfully, Eleanor already knew the way, else Bowsie would’ve had to scramble around trying to figure out Donna’s address. Luckier still, the car was clearly made for someone Eleanor’s size. Her brow furrowed as she watched Bowsie climb into the seat—it was a comfortable fit for the little sea dragon, but surely couldn’t have accommodated Donna’s typical form. When vee was all buckled in, though, she seemed to put the thought aside, and sat down herself to start the car. The one exception to the calm ride—as calm as Bowsie could keep verself, silently hoping that Eleanor wouldn’t as her maybe-boss anything too important that Bowsie hadn’t figured out yet—was when she spoke up a few minutes away from their destination.
“Hey, Donna,” she hazarded, apparently unsure of herself. It was a strange look on her, even for someone who had only known her for a half an hour.
“Y-yes?”
“I’m gonna be honest with you: I know you said it wasn't happening, but I psyched myself out a little bit thinking about a crowd full of big names, earlier. I don’t think I’d freeze up or anything, but it’d sure be a lot more stressful to go out in front of them. Do you… do you think I’m ready for that sort of thing? Talent scouts and other artists?”
Bowsie froze. Mercifully, Eleanor could only bring herself to glance over in ver direction—it was as though she was as afraid of the answer as Bowsie was of getting it wrong. That, and she had to keep her eyes on the road. It gave the dragon a little breathing room, but it still wasn’t much time to think. Vee would have to word this very carefully.
“How much have you practiced, Eleanor?” Eleanor took it as rhetorical, but Bowsie was honestly relieved just to be able to ASK a question at this point.
“Years.”
“So wouldn’t you say you’ve prepared a whole lot?”
“Yeah, I know I have. You know I have,” she said, wrongly. “But it still feels like I don’t have it down. Sometimes I feel more like an actor than a singer, ahah.” Bowsie chuckled too, trying to sound more reassuring than awkward.
“Well, if it helps at all, I know how it feels to pretend you’re somebody you’re not.”
“Really? You? Donna?”
“Mhm,” said Bowsie. “Eventually, it’ll just… It’ll just come to you. Like you knew it all along. It’ll just click into place and you’ll feel like a whole new person, but you’ll still be the same one you’ve always been. You’ll just know who that person is.”
“You make it sound so simple. I guess you’re right, though, that it’s almost like muscle memory… Eventually, you practice so much, it’s like you can’t not have the skills you need. Like riding a bike, right? And you just gotta… have faith that it’ll be there when you need it. It’s not like it’ll go anywhere, right? Just gotta… get used to the feeling.”
“You won’t even second-guess it, soon enough!”
“Ha!” Eleanor barked another little laugh. “I sure hope not. I’m gonna have to really put my game face on tonight, I think. But thank you, Donna.”
Bowsie nodded, then turned to face the window, hoping that Eleanor didn’t notice how much ver shoulders relaxed as soon as the attention was off ver. That was certainly one of the closer calls; it was rare vee had to outright guess ver way through a conversation, let alone such a sensitive one!
When they finally pulled up to the Lounge, Eleanor circled around to the back and parked her car in the rear. They only had about 45 minutes before opening, and Eleanor had to get ready; she got out of the car and walked up a few steps into a backdoor. Through it, Bowsie could see what looked like the trappings of a dressing room: a mirror, a dresser, some clothes, and curtains along one of the walls. Best not to follow her in there, then. Thankfully, she was already gone, and didn’t see ver turning a darker shade of blue at the thought.
Instead, vee tried the other door; one of the keys in Donna’s purse opened it for ver, leading ver into an office full of chic furniture and slightly-more-dated fixtures. Several pads of paper sat beside a dusty computer monitor; a rolodex sat on the corner of the desk. Before vee could get too good of a look around, though, vee heard a distant thumping, and left to investigate. Passing through a wide-open restaurant floor, a bar to ver left and the stage and a few rows of tables to ver right, vee approached the source of the sound: an agitated-looking Snubbull woman pounding on the tall, glass double-doors.
“Excuse me,” she cried as Bowsie unlocked the door to speak to her, “are you the manager? I’ve got a flier here that says you all open at 7 PM. I’ve been waiting here for over FIFTEEN MINUTES!”
Bowsie blinked at her, still poking ver head out from halfway behind the door. Given that Donna had the keys to the place, vee assumed that she was the manager—that vee was the manager, now—but vee wasn’t quite sure what this woman wanted from ver? Vee was pretty sure she was wrong about the opening time, too. Maybe it was the wrong day of the week, or maybe the flier was just outdated, but vee was pretty sure that Eleanor knew more about the schedule than this lady did. At the very least, she knew more than Bowsie!
“Mmmmmay I see the flier?” vee asked, forcing a polite tone.
“Oh, you need the flier now? It’s your restaurant, don’t you know when it’s supposed to open?!”
“I just, thought there might have been a mistake—”
“So you’re calling me ILLITERATE now. What WONDERFUL service!” Okay, what was her problem? Bowsie couldn’t tell whether this was genuinely about the time—she seemed entitled enough or that to be the case—or if she was just looking for a problem. Vee rubbed the bridge of ver nose, trying not to show too much frustration.
“I, okay, I’m very sorry, ma’am.” She huffed and crossed her arms. Apparently, the customer service voice was what she wanted to hear, but she didn’t seem satisfied. “We still don’t open until 8 PM, but can we offer you a drink once we do open?” She opened her mouth, probably to say something about how she should HOPE a bar would offer her a drink. “On the house! Uh, of course.”
Her lip curled, showing off one of her stubby little teeth in an obstinate snarl. After a moment scowling that way, though, it seemed to be enough to placate her. She threatened to “ask for the manager again” if she wasn’t served promptly when she came back, then stormed off down the street. Bowsie pitied whoever’s business she was going to patronize—be patronizing in, really—but was glad vee didn’t have to deal with her anymore. Vee groaned under ver breath, shuffling ver way back inside and toward the office; vee still wasn’t quite sure what it was vee was supposed to be doing at the Lounge.
Across from the door to Donna’s office was a wall of shelves, capped with a file cabinet adjacent to her desk. Given the state of the PC, and the organized but intimidatingly-large piles of paper surrounding it, Bowsie figured that any indication as to recent business would be more likely written down by hand than typed out into a text file or a spreadsheet. Vee sighed; that would make it much more of a pain to track down… Vee understood why someone older would want to do things with pen and paper, between old habits and the difficulty of keeping up with the nuances of ever-changing software menus, but honestly, just having a search function makes it more than worth it compared to all this!
Still, as vee shuffled through papers, poking ver nose over the edge of one of the drawers and rifling through sheets of paper with their fingertips, vee couldn’t deny the appeal. There was something satisfying about having the fruits of your organizational work in ver fins, and sometimes it felt like ver brain latched onto things better if vee had a physical location to attach to them. Plus, something about the system Donna used just… clicked! It made it easy to find the sorts of things they were wondering about—inventory, schedules, order forms for food and drinks. Luckily, the Lounge was probably stocked for at least tonight, so vee wouldn’t have to figure all this out right away. Vee had plenty of time to keep sifting through all this and familiarizing themself with it.
Well, vee would have, if vee wasn’t interrupted by an airy voice from over ver shoulder.
“Pardon the intrusion—” she began.
“GRAWAWA!” The poor sea critter jumped, whirling around as papers fluttered from ver fins.
“Ah. Sorry to startle you.” Before ver was… something in the shape of a Gardevoir, with skin the color of the night sky, arrayed in shimmering skirts that twinkled as brightly as its smokey, wispy tiara.
“How, um! How did you get in here? I thought I was the only one who was supposed to have the keys.”
“Are you supposed to have those keys?” She asked. Her tone wasn’t accusatory; more matter-of-fact than anything. “You don’t seem like you’re from around here, little one.”
“O-oh! You can tell?” Vee paused. “Um, how?”
“Well… I’m not from around here, either. I don’t think it’s quite the same, but I can see things most people can’t.” She glided across the floor, leaning down toward Bowsie. “You happened to catch my eye.” Those eyes, burning like stars, scanned Bowsie up and down; it wasn’t the same look of confusion as had crossed Eleanor’s face earlier, but more like the way somebody appraises a painting, or ponders a puzzle. “Where’s Donna?”
“I… Hm. I haven’t really thought about that.” When the Gardevoir cocked an eyebrow at ver, vee put ver fins up defensively. “GRAWAWI didn’t DO anything to her! Just to be clear! I think I technically am her, now? Or at least, I’m in her spot. So to speak.” She squinted; one of her hands went from where it rested, crossed in front of her chest, and rubbed her chin instead.
“...That does seem to be the case,” she finally concluded. “Interesting! I haven’t seen anything like that before.”
“Do you see other strange things often?”
“Well, I don’t mean to boast, but I might be the strangest thing you run into here. I’m something of a… bedtime story. A local legend,” she giggled. “The biggest clue that you’re from somewhere else was that you weren’t immediately shocked to see me in the flesh. So to speak.”
“Who are you, then?”
“Polaris! It’s a pleasure.”
“Likewise!” vee answered, reaching up to shake her hand. “You can call me Bowties.”
“I’ll try to keep it in mind. I have a feeling you won’t be using it very much, soon.”
“Wait, how do you know about that part?”
“I’m watching space shifting around you as we speak,” the Gardevoir smirked. “Your snout didn’t have that curve to it when I came in. Your fins have gotten curlier, too!”
“GRAWAWA?!” Vee whirled around again and started digging through Donna’s purse, looking for a makeup compact or a pocket mirror or even the black screen of her cell phone. Sure enough, ver face had less of its usual roundness, now closer to the draconic shapes of a Lapras. Vee looked back at the file cabinet, and realized that vee could now comfortably see down into the drawer vee had been rummaging through. “Th… this part usually happens all at once!”
“Is that so? Well, maybe you’ll be able to enjoy the journey a bit more, this time around,” Polaris replied, a knowing tone in her voice. “I promise I’ll give you more privacy than you have so far. Evolving is a delicate matter, from what I understand! I’ll still be around, though—any Donna is a friend of mine.” With that, she simply floated out of sight. Not through a door, or even passing through a wall—she simply stepped into thin air as though there was a passageway Bowsie couldn’t see, and then she was gone, leaving ver blushing and stammering and trying to collect verself.
Maybe Polaris was right; that had been the first time anybody had been able to tell what was going on during a swap like this, and vee worried it would upset—or at the very least confuse, like with Eleanor—somebody if they saw the changes progressing more slowly than usual, too. Vee waited for a while (it was already nearly 8 PM), listening to the noise of the Lounge rising and falling. People slowly filled the restaurant—vee could hear somebody, probably one of the other employees, open the double doors properly, and the sounds of chatter, utensils clinking against porcelain, bottles being popped and drinks being poured, all drifted through the closed office door. Eventually, a hush fell over the establishment, which piqued a mixture of curiosity and concern in the sea critter.
Vee stepped quietly out of ver office and walked along the back wall. Thankfully, all eyes were on the stage; the lights had been dimmed and a spotlight had been set over a microphone in the center, drawing them all away. Vee found a place to stand by the bar, where a Shinx girl (a fair bit shorter than vee was, but vee was certain that wouldn’t have been the case a few hours ago) watched intently, patiently waiting. When Eleanor stepped out from the wings, vee watched ver eyes light up, not just metaphorically, but with every sparkle in her sequined dress reflecting in her wide, admiring eyes.
Bowsie couldn’t blame her, either: she was already a beautiful woman, but seeing her all adorned in her stagewear and moving in time with music elevated her to something that rivaled even the otherworldly Gardevoir who had just bullied ver until vee was blue in the face. Vee forgot verself more than vee already would in this situation, lost in her performance, following the flowing motions of her dress and rising with the crescendos of her voice and the house band. Vee was only shaken out of ver trans when it was the Shinx’s turn to notice how enraptured vee was.
“You all wrapped up in pride over there, Donna?”
“Oh! Well,” vee stalled, seeing how enamored the Shinx clearly was with Eleanor, not wanting to admit that vee was also admiring her. Still, a spark of familiar, maternal emotions toward the Floatzel colored ver thoughts, making it a bit easier to come up with something else to say. “Of course I am. She’s followed my advice well, don’t you think?” See? And it wasn’t even a lie! It came so naturally to ver lips.
“She really is something… I wish I had as much confidence as she did. Maybe that’d make it easier to talk to her.”
“You wanna know what I told her?” vee asked, neglecting, for Eleanor’s sake, to mention how recently it was.
“What’s that?”
“I told her,” vee began, another kernel of recollection popping inside ver brain, “you have to just make a leap of faith and go for it, trusting that you have what it takes to back it up. That’s the only way you’re ever gonna get past the ‘am I good enough’ hurdle, and once you’re over it, the doubt is never gonna slow you down again.” Of course, it wasn’t exactly what vee had told Eleanor—vee knew that Ceri needed a different kind of confidence boost entirely. Vee watched the gears turn in Ceri’s head as she mulled over the dragon’s advice, and it slowly dawned on ver that vee hadn’t found out her name secondhand, and that vee shouldn’t have any way of knowing about the Shinx’s anxieties. Whatever change was going to happen it was getting closer and closer.
“Anyway, I-I have to get back to my office and take care of a few things. You, uh, keep up the good work. I know you have what it takes every bit as much as she does!”
“Thanks, Donna,” she sighed, wistfully resting her cheek on her paw, looking back toward the stage. With the attention once again off of ver, vee scuttled back to the office as quick as vee could. It was definitely gonna cause some problems if vee finished ver changes without getting Donna’s proper clothes on!
Taking a moment to lean against the inside of the door and catch ver breath, Bowsie took stock of what was available to ver. The makeup wouldn’t really be an option; vee didn’t know how to apply it properly, let alone how Donna usually wore it. The clothes would at least be easy enough, even if vee expected them not to fit at all. Of course, vee was once again surprised by how much closer the clothes seemed to be to ver own size than they had been earlier in the evening. The sleeves were several inches too long; the skirt refused to sit snugly around ver waistline, having neither the hips nor the tummy to support the waistband; the blouse hung loosely over ver shoulders, and the chest in particular was baggy as all get-out. And yet, a mere few hours ago, none of it would have fit at all. The skirt would’ve fallen clean off, and the blouse would have felt more like a robe.
“BOSS!” came a shrill voice from the bar, interrupting Bowsie bemusedly (and more than a little bit flustered) examining verself in the mirror. With that, something in Bowsie’s mind kicked into action. Someone needed setting straight. Someone in the crew needed a problem dealt with. The only person for the job, the one with the force of personality, with the authority, necessary to run this ship, was Donna, and Donna was going to march out there and see what the emergency was.
That is, after she fixed herself in the mirror. She pulled the cuffs of her blazer down so they sat properly at the ends of her wrists. She tucked her blouse into her skirt. She adjusted her blouse, smoothing out the wrinkles and straining to get one of the buttons in place around her chest—had she accidentally grabbed one of her older, smaller tops? What a pain. She exhaled as much as she could (not that it made a major difference, with the rigidity of her shell), and pulled firmly to fasten the damn shirt. She wasn’t gonna seem very authoritative if she went out there and her buttons started flying open, now was she? She finally turned, threw open the door and marched toward the bar in the direction of Gina’s voice, the booming clack, clack, clack of her pumps heralding her approach..
“Boss,” she began, now that she didn’t have to yell across the restaurant, “this lady said she wanted to—”
“Oh,” Donna steamed. “You again.”
“I beg your pardon?” growled the Snubbull.
“Listen, miss,” Donna pushed right through her uppity routine to lay down the law. “I dunno what came over me earlier—I must’ve been feeling real generous—but if I give you an inch, that does not mean that you get to walk into my restaurant and take a mile from my staff, do you understand me?”
“The only thing I’m taking is the free drink you offered me for your incompetence—”
“What you are TAKING is an ATTITUDE, lady.” She loomed over the Snubbull, leaning down far enough that she was nearly doubled over, utterly unaware that she had had to tilt her head up to make eye contact with the bratty woman before opening earlier. “Now listen, and listen good. You can either TAKE yourself OUTSIDE, or I will TAKE you there MYSELF. Do I make myself clear?”
The Snubbull gritted her teeth, crossing her arms with so much force that Donna could see her claws digging into her shoulders through her clothes. After a staredown that lasted a good ten seconds, the woman finally buckled. She hmphed, just as she had earlier, and huffed her way right out the double doors. Derrick offered her a sarcastic nod as she passed by the two of them; Rhodney remained as stoic as ever.
“Thanks for calling me over, Gi. I had half a mind to find the bitch myself just to take the drink back from her. Glad she gave me an excuse.”
“You know I live to tell the customers to go fuck themselves, boss!” the Maractus chirped, sashaying away to tend to the next happy patron at the bar.
“Oh, Donna!” Ceri said, emerging from the kitchen. “Did you, uh, change clothes?”
“Yeah, I was feeling sick earlier, don’t remember most of this morning. I must’ve shown up in my at-home clothes, but I was handling things around here basically since the moment I got in, so I didn’t have time to slip into something nicer before Eleanor’s show. Don’t mention that to her, though, hey?”
The Shinx mimed zipping her snout shut and throwing away the key before carrying the order in her other paw out to a table. Donna turned and walked along the edges of the main room again, this time making for the entry to the backstage area rather than to her office. She knocked twice as she gently opened the door.
“Eleanor!” she cheered, spreading her arms. “Look at you, you little starlet, what did I tell you?”
“You told me to trust myself, Donna,” she said, sighing and getting up from her seat in front of the vanity to give her mentor a hug. “Trusting you made it a bit easier.”
“Well, you’re not quite there, then,” she joked, “but you’ll learn soon enough. One of these days you’ll impress yourself as much as you impress me.”
“Thank you,” the Floatzel said, stepping back again. “I mean it.”
“I mean it! Now, listen,” Donna continued, “I really hate to pat you on the back and leave, but I think I’m calling it early tonight. My head’s still a bit foggy from earlier, and I don’t think my car is in the lot. I’m not sure how I got in, but I’m gonna have to call a taxi to get out.”
“Oh, I—” Eleanor began, before abruptly stopping, her train of thought seemingly derailed. “Huh. I’m not sure, either.”
“Well, no harm, no foul, huh? You drive safe tonight, sweetheart. Tell the boys they’re in charge—no mercy!”
“You got it,” Eleanor chuckled.
“Oh, and if you know anybody who needs some 4XL women’s clothes, let me know! I gotta get rid of these,” she said, tugging very carefully on her blouse, taut like a spring. “It’s like I forgot how to dress myself today. Imagine—a girl my size forgetting just how much she grows!”
#writeblr#transfur#tgtf#furry writing#pokemon#lapras#expansion#growth#size difference#transgender#trans#nonbinary#transformation#maractus#gardevoir#wlw#lesbian#shinx#floatzel#cosmog#tftg#tf#original writing#trans author#indie author#scalie#furry fiction#my writing#short story#bowsiosaurus
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