#(type of guy who will just Stand There as a dodge ball hits it smack in the face)

[moe-broey]

@ prev post like I don't have Fully fleshed out thoughts but I do often think about Moe as a unit. What sort of playstyle it would have. I actually REALLY want to develop this more (esp based on how I tend to play games esp when combat is involved). Guy who was probably meant to be an antelope but has none of the speed (probably average speed) what will it do!!!!!

#moe tag #i kinda go back and forth on wanting to maintain the autistic poor coordination/slow reation times #(type of guy who will just Stand There as a dodge ball hits it smack in the face) #vs how fucking funny it would be if it was surprisingly nimble/quick on its feet (ESP W THOSE ANKLE BREAKER HEELS) #i do wanna give moe a good set of pros and cons as a unit. it needs some Ws and some Ls. #i STRONGLY think it would be a gimmick heavy unit that relies heavily on luck. and it would be VERY divisive #within the serious fe player community whether or not moe is a trash stupid gimmick unit OR severely underrated #/just needs to be built and played in the right way LMFAOOO #i need to do some research though i'm a very casual fe player LMFAOO

[chilling-seavey]

Heartbreak Hotel (d.s.) - Chapter Twenty-Three

A/N What wouldn’t Daniel do...

T/W Physical violence 

“Where’d you run off to yesterday?” Jack asked as Daniel slid onto his usual stool.

Daniel slouched forward against the counter with a tired sigh, “I ran into Loretta.”

Jack paused his polishing of cutlery and waved Zach over from tending to a table. Zach rushed over to join them, pausing to slide the order slip to the kitchen before giving Daniel his full attention. 

“She said Corbyn forbid her from seeing me and she wants me to leave her alone. Forever.”

“Wait, what?” Zach frowned. He and Jack exchanged confused glances. “But you just gave her the best night of her life pretty much.”

“Yeah…well…” Daniel faded out with a shrug.

“So what, she’s just going to ignore the fact that you’re chemically, biologically, emotionally, and physically made for each other?” Jack scoffed.

“Apparently. Because Corbyn makes the rules now.” Daniel mumbled, picking at the countertop.

Jack continued polishing the cutlery and organizing them into the plastic bin in front of him, only shaking his head in disbelief.

“So after all, that it just takes her to say ‘leave me alone’ for you to drop all you’ve worked for?” Zach asked.

“It just…” Daniel sighed, straightening up on the stool. “It just makes me so angry that she lets him boss her around all the time.”

“Well that’s how it works in society. At least she’s a well-behaved girlfriend.” Jack mumbled, offering the play of devil’s advocate. Zach elbowed him under Daniel’s depressed pout in their direction. Jack sighed, glancing back up at Daniel before turning back to his polishing, “I’m not going to tell you what to do because you have your own head on your shoulders; but you spent the last month and a half chasing after this girl and it would be a coward move if you just gave up.”

“She doesn’t want anything to do with me though.” Daniel said.

“She only doesn’t want anything to do with you because Corbyn told her that’s what she wants.” Zach corrected.

Daniel chuckled humourlessly, shaking his head tiredly. His heart still ached but he pushed it down with the anger that was growing inside of him at the unfairness of the whole situation.

Zach continued, “You’ve got to do something about it, Daniel.”

“Have a civil conversation with the guy.” Jack said. “Sit down like men and talk it out.”

“Corbyn doesn’t seem like the talking type.” Daniel grumbled.

His friends were silent for a moment and Daniel raised his eyes from the counter to look up at them, frowning as their surprised faces were staring out the front window of the diner. Daniel turned to look over his shoulder just as the bell above the door rang and Corbyn and Jonah walked in, dressed in their usual black leather. The air was thick with tension the second they stepped foot in the diner and Daniel turned quickly back to avoid being caught starting, tugging at his shirt collar as if breathing was suddenly difficult.

“Jesus.” Daniel swore under his breath.

Jack smirked, polishing a handful of butter knives in his hand, “The universe really does work in weird ways, huh?”

Corbyn and Jonah glanced over to the group of three at the counter and Daniel didn’t dare look up, keeping his head down and back turned to them.

“Does he see me?” he whispered.

“Uh huh.” Zach answered quietly, staring right back at the two friends, watching as they glared distastefully at them and then found a seat in one of the booths together.

“You can stop hiding under the counter now.” Jack said.

Daniel raised his head slowly, “I wasn’t hiding under the counter.”

“Might as well have been.” Jack said. “Just go over there and ask him what’s going on.”

“I can’t do that.” Daniel could feel his heart racing in his chest, some sort of adrenaline starting to pump through his veins just at the sight of Corbyn and Jonah sitting across the restaurant.

Jack spoke lowly like he was the devil on Daniel’s shoulder, “He’s taking your future from you.”

“The future you’ve only dreamt of your whole life.” Zach added.

“And the one you already had a taste of.”

“He’s undeserving of her.”

“You going to let him get his way with it like this?”

“Do you want to be miserable the rest of your life after you had a glimpse of what could be?”

Daniel got up from the stool before he could second guess, fueled by his friends’ words, and started right over towards the booth across the diner. He felt like he was walking outside of himself; some strange out of body experience as he approached the table, maybe caused by the dose of adrenaline that was filling him. Daniel was never an aggressive person whatsoever and Jack and Zach knew that well; not worried at all as they watched their best friend saunter across the tile floor.

The moment Corbyn raised his head and his eyes landed right on Daniel’s, the younger boy let everything out like a dam breaking.

“Who do you think you are?” Daniel snapped as strongly as he could.

Jack and Zach glanced at each other with entertained and surprised expressions before turning back to the scene a few feet away.

Corbyn cracked a small smile and looked across the table to Jonah before looking back up to Daniel, “What the hell are you talking about?”

“You have no right to tell Loretta what she can or cannot do!” Daniel smacked his palm on the table for emphasis.

Corbyn’s eyebrows raised, “Oh really?”

“Yes, really! She can do as she pleases, and you cannot boss her around like you are! You…You can’t tell her that she can’t see me!”

“Well, that’s where you’re wrong, Seavey.” Corbyn said coolly, leaning towards him over the table, “She’s my girl so therefore she’s mine to do as I please with. Do you have an issue with that?”

“Yes.” Daniel jabbed back.

A few other patrons were glancing over at the teenagers and their small argument.

“Why’s that, Seavey? You think you can come in here and swipe up my girl? You already took her on a date and nearly kissed her in your car – don’t think I didn’t see that – and I already warned you to not try anything funny. You’re a pathetic little boy. You don’t know one thing about life.”

“I know that she’s not your soulmate!” Daniel shouted.

Corbyn’s stern stare turned stone in a millisecond and Daniel nearly shuttered under the intensity of it. There was a beat of silence.

Corbyn grabbed the front of Daniel’s shirt and tugged him close until they were nearly nose to nose and Daniel was leaning half over the table, staring fearfully right into Corbyn’s grey eyes. He could feel his breath on his face.

“What gave you the balls to say that bullshit?” Corbyn seethed.

“She told me! She’s been lying to you the whole time and I think you’ve been lying to her too! You’re not her soulmate; I am!” Daniel said. “You’re nothing more than a phony and too much of a coward to go find your real soulmate and let Loretta be actually happy!”

Corbyn was off the bench in a flash and pulled Daniel towards the door by the front of his shirt. He walked so briskly that even Jonah couldn’t get up to follow them in time; everyone’s eyes turning to follow them out the front door of the diner with Daniel nearly tripping over his feet as Corbyn shoved him out onto the sidewalk. Daniel hadn’t even caught his footing before Corbyn delivered a punch right to his nose, sending the smaller boy stumbling backwards.

“Shit!” Jack gasped and he and Zach tossed down their cutlery to rush outside, Jonah right in front of them.

Daniel was powerless against Corbyn’s strength, barely getting his hands in front of his face to defend himself before Corbyn hit him again, and then once more, sending him toppling backwards onto the sidewalk. The patrons of the diner gathered at the windows to watch the fight unfold as Corbyn straddled Daniel’s body and delivered punch after punch to his face until blood was coating his knuckles and splattered onto the pavement.

Daniel could barely even move, too in shock to register what was even happening. All he could feel was the metal of Corbyn’s ring colliding with his face and this aching warmth that spread all over his body before his brain could even process the pain.

“Get off him!” Jack grabbed at Corbyn’s arm to try and drag him off his best friend but Jonah pulled him away, glaring down at Jack and Zach in near warning. A crowd was forming around the scene on the sidewalk, the sickening sound of the hard punches bringing more people around.

Corbyn paused to grab the front of Daniel’s shirt and pulled his head off the pavement, shouting down at him, “I told you to mind your own fucking business!”

Daniel only coughed, blood dribbling down his chin from his split lip. Corbyn punched him again before standing up and kicking him right in the stomach, sending the crowd gasping and Daniel to double over in agony on the sidewalk.

“Hey, asshole!” Jack dodged Jonah’s arm and went right over to Corbyn and gave him a rough shove.

Corbyn caught his fist before Jack could hit him and delivered a hard punch to him stomach, forcing the air right out of Jack’s lungs until he was gasping and stumbling onto the ground himself. Zach crouched to tend to Jack as Corbyn turned back to Daniel. He kicked him once more in the stomach and then used the heel of his boot to push Daniel flat onto his back against the pavement. Corbyn bent down right in front of him and lifted Daniel up by two hands on the front of his blood-stained shirt again,

“Had enough yet?” Corbyn seethed.

Daniel let out a small whimper, earning him one last punch to his nose before sound of heavy footfalls from down the sidewalk got louder as two police officers came running to see what was going on.

Jonah rushed over and grabbed Corbyn’s arm to pull him away, “We gotta get out of here.”

Corbyn stood up, staring down at Daniel on the sidewalk and he stretched his right hand out, blood staining his knuckles and he flexed his fingers a moment before leaning over the younger boy. He spat down on him distastefully before offering a vicious, “You hear me, Seavey? You stay the fuck away from me and my girl or I’ll finish you off.”

Jonah and Corbyn disappeared quickly down the street, leaving Daniel laying weak on the sidewalk. Zach rushed over to him and set his gentle hands on his best friend’s shoulders as he assessed the damage. Daniel winced as he moved slightly, reaching a shaking hand up to swipe the blood from his nose and he let out a small sob as he took in the deep red on his fingertips and he rested his head back against the pavement.

Daniel stared straight up to the sky, the forms of Zach, Jack, and the officers leaning over him fading into the glare of the LA sun. 

#🍓 #soulmate au #daniel seavey #why dont we #wdw #1950s #soulmate!wdw #jonah marais #jack avery #corbyn besson #zach herron #christian seavey #daniel seavey fanfic #why dont we fanfic #limelight #au

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Diego Hargreeves x reader

-Make me bleed-

Warnings: blood, sassy reader, implied sexy times

Masterlist

-Part of the What a Time to be Alive universe

It’s yours and Diego’s weekly training session in the nighttime seclusion of the boxing gym. You’ve had a relatively chill day and want nothing more then to rock the shit out of Diego, and not in the way that he’d prefer.

Tonight you’ve decided to use wooden sticks for agility practice and so far you’ve knocked his ass onto the mat more times then he could count. You can tell Diego’s slowly growing with frustration which is just what you’ve intended, he gets significantly better and more aggressive when he’s frustrated with losing. Thus turning himself into a worthy opponent for your more violent tendencies.

With a swift dodge to the left, you quickly wip your stick around and smack Diego right in the legs, essentially knocking his feet from under him. He drops his stick and lands with a hard “humf” onto the soft leather mat. He rolls himself onto his back and looks up at you with an annoyed grimace as you just give him a cheeky smile while twirling your weapon in your hand like a pro.

“Pain is just weakness leaving the body.”

“Shut the fuck up Y/N.”

You laugh at his dramatics and his adorably angry puppy dog eyes that are glaring with fury from his spot on the floor. You walk over to his wooden stick, picking it up, you hold it as you wait patiently for Diego to stand up.

“It’s fine if you’re too tired.”

“I’m not...I’m not too tired. Just caught me off guard is all....I’ll be ready from now on.” He exclaims confidently with a new look of determination upon his handsome face.

“Oh in that case.”

Without warning you throw his wooden stick at him where it roughly lands across his stomach, knocking the wind out of him with the force of your arms strength. He tightly grasps it in his hands while his breathing controls once again, his face significantly more irritated then before. But you’re having to much fun watching him struggle to care if you just pissed him off, he ate your prized burrito last week without asking and now your gonna let him pay for his actions.

“Alright tough guy, make me bleed.” You challenge with an amused sneer, he smirks back at you and accepts your enticing proposition.

Suddenly he lunges to your left, swinging his stick over towards you at lightening speed. Time slows down as you turn your head in its direction, with catlike reflexes and the strength of a lioness you reach your hand out and instantly stop its charges. Grasping his weapon in your left hand you twist underneath it while letting it go, keeping your little battle rolling even though you could have just ended him, you’re being nice for once.

Instantaneously Diego throws his weapon back at you, it flies towards your stomach from the right. You slide backwards, the wood missing you by an inch, you can hear the swoosh of the stick as it swings in the air. He throws his arms up once again, pressing forward with his swift assault but before he can crack you across the face you abruptly block his advances with your own stick. The clack of the wood sounding throughout the quiet of the large boxing gym among your labored breaths and random grunts.

He swings the stick at you once then twice then a third time, each swat lacking any and all contact with your skin. You block more advances, once from the right then from the left, a swing towards your legs and a slash to your shoulder. None doing any damage to break any flesh or bruise it for that matter.

“Who taught you how to fight? Casper the friendly ghost!?”

“All you’ve been doing is dodging me! Scared of a little pain Y/N?” Taunts Diego with a cocky smirk as he swats at you once again.

“Alright Puss’ n Boots show me something to be scared of.”

“Gladly.”

With a growl that honestly might have really turned you on if not for the current circumstances, he charges with his stick gripped tightly in both hands, swinging it right then left. Making contact with your own one as the two of you dance around the mat, nothing but the satisfying sounds of your sticks clacking together. With a move that you had not anticipated for, he suddenly swats the stick out of your hand in a rather calculated approach that’s left you wide eyed and a bit impressed. Apparently he is learning, or just lucky, he smirks at you with a shit eating grin.

“I win.”

“I wouldn’t get ahead of yourself knifeboy.”

“Well if you insist on losing twice, your choice.” He practically jabs in a sing-songy type voice, you just roll your eyes, positioning yourself into a fighting stance.

“You’re adorable.”

He bites his lip, trying to conceal his smile that’s giving away how much he’s truly enjoying this. You tilt your head to the side as a sly smirk pulls at the corner of your lips before you drop to the mat, your leg swinging out and making definitive contact with his shins. He immediately falls to the ground but catches himself with his hands as you twist around to face him once again. The both of you staring at each other eye to eye until he quickly shoots is stick up towards your exposed shoulder.

You feel a jolt of pain race up your arm at the abruptly unpleasant contact of the wooden staff to your bare skin. You hold in a scream as you fall to the floor from the force of the blow, instantly you shoot up to face Diego once again. He looks concerned but only for a second before he realizes the fury flashing in your eyes. Quickly collecting himself, Diego throws more jabs at you, ones that you smartly block with your forearms. Each hit stings but your making progress and the would be bruises heal instantly.

Diego fakes a hit towards your knees, as you reach down to stop the blow he quickly counter attacks and without warning you look up just in time to feel the instant pain of the wooden stick cracking you across the cheek. Fucking ouch. This time you do let out a small muffled yelp through your clenched teeth. He drop the stick and quickly begins apologizing for taking it too far. You stick a hand out for him to stop, turning around to face him again he looks on in fear as your wound drips blood down the side of your face.

He had sliced a messy cut into your cheek, the skin peeled back as blood seeps out, turning into a ruby river all the way down to your jaw. It burns and feels wet but you don’t mind as it finally fuses back together again, your once nasty cut now healed and looking just as it was not even ten seconds ago. You wipe the blood with the bottom edge of your black tank top, giving Diego a five second show of your stomach.

“I knew you had the balls.”

His face breaks out into an abashed smile, proud of himself for gaining your recognition and taking the upper hand for once, “Did you intentionally let me win?” He asks.

“Course not, you’d know if I was going easy on you.”

“Well...we done? Cause I’d rather not hurt you again.”

“Babe you could never hurt me, I for one had a fantastic time throwing you around. It’s very sexy of me.” You boast while taking your hair out, letting the sweaty mess fall around your face. Diego smirks, shaking his head at your ability to always unintentionally find a way that makes him love you even more.

“I can’t argue with that. It is very sexy of you, doing anything really.”

“Well then, it would be even more sexy if you put those sticks away and followed me to the shower.” Diego’s eyebrows raise at your not so subtle implied invitation. You give him a wink before turning around and swaggering off to your room to get clothes and some towels. He watches you the whole time, a big stupid grin adorning his sweaty face.

#diego hargreeves x you #diego hargreeves x reader #diego hargreeves imagine #the umbrella academy #the umbrella academy x reader #falcor the luck dragon stories #the umbrella academy x you #number two

[foggymagic]

Noblesse Pokémon AU ...Snippet?: Battling for Dear Life Part 1

This one takes place shortly after the kids get kidnapped by Jake and Mary. Again uses altered canon dialogue. Starts in episode 68. ENTIRELY TOO LONG. I’M GONNA HAVE TO BREAK IT UP AS IT IS. BUT EVEN THIS SEGMENT REFUSES TO BE A RESPECTABLE LENGTH. TT^TT The other segments...should be shorter, when I get to them. The difficulty here is that I have the endings of each segment planned out, but getting from point A to point B while implementing the changes is...long, in some cases. *sigh* This is one of many reasons I usually just lurk, instead of participating in fandoms like this. If anyone knows a better term for this monstrosity than “snippet” (because it’s not, it’s really not) I’m all ears.

Previous Snippet | Next Snippet

Shinwoo was already winded from his fight with the laser-eyed man. He’d hit vital spots over and over, dodging deadly blows, breaking bones and yet...and yet, he was still standing. All he’d managed to do was slow the guy down. He was already getting tired, but maybe, maybe it’d be enough to win if he kept it up.

A cigarette dropped to the floor. “Not bad.” The pale man said, crushing out the cherry (didn’t he know cigs were bad for him? No wonder he was pale) as he stood, one fluid motion. “He fights better than our normal trained members. He’s really a student?” The vicious smirk promised bad things to come. “Wanna fight me?”

‘That...that was nonsense.’ M-24 thought. The agents Jake referred to, the ones he slaughtered for fun, they hadn’t been modified, experimental ones like Jake being too valuable to send out on just anything. But even so, to say that a child was more skilled than trained killers. Surely Jake wasn’t being serious, right? But no, the man (no, monster), stepped closer to the kids.

“I wanna check him out.” Shinwoo was speechless. He was expected to fight a fresh opponent now? “If I really wanna check out your skills...” He casually reached beside him, shoving laser-eyes out of the way, “garbage should get out of the way.”

The wall was cracked. The wall was cracked, and laser-eyes was unconscious. The guy who’d been fine from all his attacks was unconscious from a single fucking blow from pale-man. Who were these people? They were all monsters.

“Hey, kiddo. You’re good. Did you train a lot?” Pale-man’s constant smirk as seriously starting to piss Shinwoo off. It was like a Persian toying with a Rattata. This was a game to him.

“I thought I did. But looking at you, it seems my training wasn’t worth it.” He specialized in martial arts specifically to protect his friends. If he couldn’t even do that....

The man chuckled. “The way you talk back...you are really something.” He spread his arms, a blatant challenge. “I will kill you one at a time. You already know I won’t give you an easy death, right?”

“Why do I have to do as you guys tell me?” Honestly, at this point, he was just being facetious for the sake of wasting time. He’d managed to give that blatantly obvious coded message to Professor Lee. All he had to do now was stall until the police got here. Hopefully armed with some Machamp. He didn’t think the standard Snubbull and Growlithe were gonna cut it this time. Even so, at this rate.... He rubbed Bohoja’s pokéball unconsciously.

“Then don’t. Quit if you don’t want too.” He was sick of that smile. “I can just kill you and your friends. You don’t amuse me, I should do something to amuse myself.” What was with this smarmy bastard!? “I’ll give you a chance. Just attack me!”

Shinwoo didn’t waste a second, running up and delivering his best kick. “Sorry, man. Thought you wanted me to attack.” And what an attack it was. A solid blow, straight to the stomach. It wouldn’t drop a monster like him, but with any luck, it’d wind him.

Pale-man let out a cackle. “Nice. That’s what I want.”

‘An attack like that won’t hurt Jake. It was no match from the start.’ This wouldn’t last long. M-24 fiddled with the pokéball in his pocket. It wouldn’t help much, and he hated the idea of putting her in danger, but a battle. A battle might help buy some more time.

“The timing was good but the kick wasn’t. Here, try again.” The man’s arms were still spread. He hadn’t moved an inch from his previous position. Shinwoo rushed him, delivering three solid punches to his torso. Damn, was he hitting a wall? His hand was bleeding, and he was certain it’d fractured in a few places. Clenching a fist hurt in ways it never had before, and this wasn’t even his first time with a broken bone.

“You’re not done, are you?” He...he wanted more? Honestly, Shinwoo was having trouble staying standing, and he wasn’t even being attacked. This man...Shinwoo’s body trembled from the fear he’d been repressing since they were kidnapped. He was starting to doubt that help would come in time. Damn it, if only he could just stall longer! “What? That’s it? You’re no fun.”

One swift motion and Shinwoo hit the wall. Body first, thankfully, but the momentum threw his head back on impact. Well, a concussion. Yeah, that was something he needed in this situation.

“Shinwoo!” His friends were frantic, screaming at him. He coughed in response, trying to keep the coppery fluids from invading his lungs. Damn, he must have bitten something, or broken a tooth too close to the root. Shit. He was in NO condition to continue fighting.

“What? That’s it? It’s not entertaining.” Smug prick. Shinwoo’d known he was fighting a losing battle, but that didn’t make it any less frustrating. “Hey, kiddo. Like I said. Because you disappointed me, I will kill your friends, one by one.” Like there’d ever even been a chance of him doing any different.

“Jake, that’s enough.” The grey-haired man who’d kidnapped them before was stepping in. Even if he was a bad guy, it seemed like he was trying to help.

“Why are you stopping me again.” The pale man -Jake was his name?- positively growled the words. He really needed some kind of anger management classes.

“Until the last one comes...”

“That crap again?! Stop saying that. The last kid is coming. Why keep these ones alive?”

“What if he doesn’t show? You wanna do this again? Because I don’t.”

“M-21 is right. Wait a bit more, that’s all.” The blue haired woman who’d previously been silently stroking a Liepard spoke. “M-21 will wait with me outside for the last kid.” 

M-21 shared a quick glance with M-24 before following Marie and her Liepard out the door.

Jake began walking toward the kids again. Did Marie not just tell him to leave them alive!? “Jake, what’re you doing? You disobeying Marie’s orders?”

“I’m not gonna kill. Hey, Marie. It’s okay as long as I don’t kill, right?” The silence on the other end gave her answer: tacit agreement. “Understand me. No one has ever made me so annoyed. Ever since I started looking for you kids, I made up my mind. I will not let you die in peace...”

Oh, hell. M-24 was really gonna have to get involved, wasn’t he?

The red-head groaned and sat up. “Damn, I can’t even take a break...” The other two immediately set out checking to see if he was ok.

“Not bad. That idiot is still unconscious.” Jake looked back at the infected.

“Hey.” The red-head stumbled to his feet. “Before you hurt my friends...I’m right here.”

Before the pale man could react. “Jake, wait.” M-24 had no idea what he was doing. “Before anything else happens, there’s something I want from them.” There was every chance Jake’d just keep beating them, but.... “My Pokémon needs training. They’re from a trainers’ school.” A Pokémon battle. Even with the league regulations, it was a pretty violent sport, much like MMA. It might just be enough for Jake to allow it. Probably why he’d even let the kids keep their Pokémon in the first place. More blood to spill.

Jake paused, looking at the large scarred man with. For a moment, M-24 thought he’d said the wrong thing, that he’d just made everything worse, when he responded with a scoff. “I don’t know why you’d bother. Trash like you would have just been given more trash.” But he still backed out of the way. “Have at it then. Make it entertaining.”

“You. Redhead. Battle me.” There, just like that. Rough, commanding. Jake wouldn’t even question his intentions. He fumbled in his pocket for the pokéball. “Go Espurr!” A small, grey, bipedal kitten appeared on the concrete in front of him. ‘Tiny, help me buy some time.’ The kitten nodded, seemingly at nothing. Their mental link would never stop being useful.

Shinwoo hesitated. A battle...would buy time, but he had no idea what the scarred man was up to. Best to just wrap it up quickly then, to keep damage to a minimum. “C’mon out, Bohoja.” He tossed the ball in the air, the familiar bipedal jackal pup forming from the light emitted. The type matchup wasn’t in his favor, but he’d found out quick why the Professor’d said he “wasn’t starter material.” With a competitive breedject, Shinwoo didn’t lose battles often. 

Inflicting a status on the opponent seemed the best option, so “Force Palm.” The pup moved to attack, faster than most humans could move, but the cat smacked him on either side of his neck, freezing him in place for a second. Nice try, but a Fake Out wouldn’t work a second time. “Do it again, Bohoja.” Faster this time, he hit the Espurr in the chest with an open hand. The kitten shivered, sparks dancing across her body before she let out a pain-filled cry, dealing a bit of sonic damage to her opponent. A super effective move on a fighting type like Riolu, but it wouldn’t be enough. “Blaze Kick.” Bohoja’s leg caught fire as he kicked the psychic cat, knocking it down and out.

“See? Trash is trash. You can’t change that.” Jake walked menacingly towards the fainted Pokémon. M-24 quickly recalled Tiny to her pokéball. Jake would NOT be getting to her if he could help it. “Really? You’re just delaying the inevitable, you know.” Jake paused, glancing at the redhead and his Riolu. “You’ve got a good idea though, why not use this as a training opportunity.”

A small, heavily scarred Larvitar appeared before him. “Don’t lose this time, got it?” The baby kaiju shivered. It wasn’t her fights that had gotten her those scars. “Hey, even your Pokémon is well trained. Fight me.”

Shinwoo didn’t waste any time. “Bohoja, Sky Uppercut.” Still affected by the speed boost from last fight, there wasn’t even time to blink before he’d driven his fist into her chin, sending the tiny lizard flying. She was knocked out before she’d even hit the ground.

“Should have realized she’d lose. Bastards have been giving me trash since I went through the first few.” He crushed a white pokéball in his hand. “Guess I’ll have to dispose on this one too.”

The redhead moved, tossing a ball of his own at the Larvitar. Fainted, there wasn’t anything she could do to keep from being caught, even if it was against her will. It was against League Law to catch a fainted Pokémon for that reason. Yeah, he was committing a crime, but he’d release her once the danger was passed. IF it passed. “Sorry. My hand slipped. Guess you shouldn’t have broken her ball. Ball-less Pokémon are technically wild, after all.” Bohoja picked up the ball for him.

Jake was decidedly unamused. “I see.” He’d make sure to remember that for next time he killed the trash the Union gave him, but for now....He backhanded Shinwoo right into a wall. “Satisfied?” He might have outsmarted him, but it would cost him. “Oh my...” Looks like without him in the way, his friends and Pokémon were unprotected. “Now, I can start.”

“No, not yet.” He was shaking, crouched on the ground, but he was up again? M-24 was stumped. Jake might not be using his full strength, even so, most modified agents couldn’t stand that attack. What was the boy made of?

Jake sauntered over to the boy and dealt a quick kick to his jaw, knocking him to the floor. “I guess I hit him too softly, thinking I shouldn’t kill him.” Yet. M-24 hoped he meant yet. Any alternatives were just...to awful to comprehend. And yet, as Jake spun around for the others, the redhead grabbed his leg.

“What...What are you doing? You can’t even stand up? Just stay on the floor.” He shook off the boy’s arms, and carefully stepped on his right arm, putting just enough pressure for a resounding ‘crunch’ to echo through the room. The children cried out, the boy in pain and his friends in horror. But still, he reached, looping his uninjured arm around the sadist’s leg.

“You will...never...hurt my friends” His breathing was ragged, but his eyes still shone with defiance. M-24 was shaken. This kid. This kid cared about his friends as much as he cared for M-21, for Tiny.

“Shinwoo, stop it now. We’re okay.” Yuna cried. It was far from the truth, but this was unfair. Shinwoo was the only one getting hurt in all this.

“You can’t get hurt because of us...” Ik-han agreed, tears streaming down his face. He did not want to watch this twisted man break Shinwoo more just because he wouldn’t let him do to them what he was doing to him.

“Be quiet, both of you. This is...the only thing I’m good at...” Shinwoo...didn’t really think that, right? That his ability to protect them was what made him worthy as a friend. He couldn’t. Not after all they’d been through together, right?

“You think I’m doing this because I can’t kill you?” Jake’s face darkened. He’d been so patient so far, but even he had his limits. “Whatever. I’ll just kill you all.” He dragged Shinwoo by his hair, preparing for a lethal blow.

M-24 could not just watch. Not anymore. These kids cared for each other. They were comrades, just like the M series had been. For another group to be torn apart like theirs had...unacceptable. He punched Jake, sending him into the wall with enough force to bury him in rubble. He’d just sealed their fate. Jake would kill the last remnants of the M series. M-21 would understand though. Hopefully.

And that marks the end of this segment. To clarify the battle scenes, a competitive breedject would be a ‘mon specifically bred for competitive battles, but rejected, as it didn’t meet the breeder’s specifications (you end up with a lot of these going for competitive shinies, lots of fighting fit ‘mons will be created before you find that one.) Given what all goes into this, and the overbreeding that can occur because of it, it’s probably frowned upon, if not outright illegal in this ‘verse. Not that that’s going to stop everyone.

In gaming terms, first battle occured as follows: Espurr uses Fake Out, Flinching the Riolu but raising his speed due to his ability. Riolu uses Force Palm, and manages to Paralyze the Espurr, further widening the speed gap, and Espurr retaliates with Disarming Voice, a fairy-type move. Riolu then finishes with Blaze Kick, an egg move he was born with.

The fight with Larvitar went as quickly as it did because she was at a type disadvantage, with a Riolu with perfect attack IVs(essentially genetic stats, can be from 0-31) and a fair amount of EVs(Effort Value, stats gained through training. Is why trained ‘mons are stronger than wild ‘mons, even at the same level) from his time in the dojo with Shinwoo, using a STAB (same type attack bonus; for when a move’s type matches the user’s type) move. And the move was a high-powered one he hatched with (Bohoja has a Blaziken ancestor). Poor girl never stood a chance.

Jake doesn’t train his Pokémon. As far as he’s concerned, it should automatically be able to keep up with him. Any that doesn’t dies. He’s gone though several already, so the Union keeps giving him low levels with okay starting defence. Not gonna waste the good ones on him, and they aren’t going out of their way to give him one with good defence, he’d only take it as a challenge.

#noblesse #pokemon au #M-24 #shinwoo #yuna #ik-han #jake #marie #m-21 #fanfiction #noblesse pokémon au #noblesse fanfic #noblesse au

[heauxkyu]

ooh for the writing prompt! sprace; 65 or 79?

Hi lovely anon! Sorry this took me so incredibly long to write. I had to restart so many times. I’m so out of practice and this is probably super bad (grammatically it’s a disaster), but at least it’s DONE! I hope anyone who reads it enjoys it. ALSO IM SORRY IT GOT SO LONG I JUST RAMBLED FOREVER

65. “Look at me— just breathe, okay?”

~~~~~~~~~~

“Get back here, you rat!” A booming voice called out to Race’s retreating figure as he sprinted as fast as he could away from the dimly lit alley way.

What had started out as an innocent game of cards on the streets of Brooklyn had soon led to Racetrack being cornered by the four huge men he had foolishly decided to gamble against. The young newsie had thought he knew their type. Each was slightly overweight and a little drunk, all with dark eyes and intimidating features but with little to no brain cells. They should have been easy targets to steal a few cents from, and Race had not been expecting the backlash he received after winning the fifth consecutive game in a row, shooting the men a grin and collecting his winnings.

“Up for another round, fellas?” He had asked smugly, pocketing the money and shuffling the cards with his practiced hands. When no one responded, he raised his eyebrows. “Givin’ up already? Aw c’mon!”

Another pause.

“Tell ya what,” He pulled some of the money out of his pocket and showed it to the men, immediately recapturing their attention, “If any one of you wins this next game, I’ll return all my winnin’s. Deal?”

The men had all foolishly agreed. Race grinned even wider, clapping his hands together. “That’s what I’m talkin’ about!”

The sixth game had begun smoothly until one of the men noticed Race counting cards, a trick the young boy had mastered years ago. The man quickly communicated it to his fellow players through hushed whispers while Race was busy deciding his next move.

“Hey! This bastard is countin’ cards!” He hissed. The other three men whipped their heads around to stare at him, lowering their voices.

“You sure?”

“ ‘Course I’m sure, you idiot. How else would a kid win five games in a row? That ain’t no dumb luck. I saw him do it just now.”


When Race finally made his play, he looked up at the four figures he was crouched in front of, his cocky smile soon vanishing as he took in their furious facial expressions. He had been caught.

“Got somethin’ to admit?” One of them asked as all four rose to their full height in front of a now cowering Race. The newsie’s eyes widened as he saw them begin to crack their knuckles menacingly.

“I…” Race began, quickly pocketing the cards and the money, standing up and backing agains the alley wall. “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.” His heart began to pound as the four men advanced on him, his shoulder blades pressing into the brick.

“Don’t play dumb, kid.” Another one of the men growled, reaching out and shoving Race further back so his head smacked against the hard stone. He winced, his hands beginning to shake and his eyes darting around, looking for any possible escape. “We saw you countin’ cards.”

Race cursed himself for not being more careful. He had gotten too cocky after his string of wins and forgotten that the men were simply dumb, not blind. He tried to open his mouth to come up with any sort of excuse, but all that came out was a weak “Oh.”

The largest man laughed humorlessly. “Oh? That’s all ya gotta say? You’re a cheater,” He stepped closer. “You know how we deal with cheaters?”

Race’s breath caught in his throat. He knew exactly how cheaters were dealt with, especially in Brooklyn. He also knew that, since he wasn’t in his own borough, there would be no one around to help him with this fight. In other words: he was screwed. As more panic set in, he squeaked out, “I-I’ll give you the money back! I- I just thought-“

Just then, a fist came flying at his face, but he was quick enough to dodge the blow. The man who threw the punch hollered in pain when he made contact with the brick wall, jumping back to cradle his bruising fist. Race took the opportunity to shove past him and booked it out of the alleyway.

Now, he was sprinting as fast as his legs would carry him, trying to drown out the threats the men were shouting at him as they followed at a surprisingly fast pace. His heart felt like it had jumped into his throat. He could feel his own panicked pulse everywhere, beating in his lungs, stomach, and head. Race knew that, if these men caught him, he might not survive. God, how could he have been so stupid?

“Damnit!” He cried out as he reached a new alleyway that ended in a dead end, his plan to escape through it now foiled. “Damnit!” He whipped around and attempted to run back out of the alleyway, but instead of running forward, he smacked right into the solid figure of one of the men.

Baring his teeth, the man shouted “Gotcha!” And grabbed Race by the collar of his shirt. Race let out an embarrassing squeak as he was lifted off of his feet to face the man. “Over here, boys!” The man called, still smiling a terrifying smile at the boy in front of him. “You’re gonna get what you paid for, kid.” He growled. Race was thrown onto the ground as the other three men ran into the alley, all breathing heavily but obviously pleased to see that their culprit was caught.

Race scrambled backwards as fast as he could, unable to get back on his feet due to the sheer amount of terror paralyzing his body. As the men advanced on him, he made one last attempt to bargain with them.

“Please! I’ll do anything!” He cried out, digging the money out of his pockets and throwing it on the ground. “It’s yours! It’s all yours!”

“Too late for that.” One of the men spat at him and Race felt tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. He couldn’t die like this. He couldn’t have Jack and Crutchie and the other Manhattan newsies out looking for him tomorrow. He couldn’t be left in an alley to rot.

The first kick to his ribs was enough to knock him completely flat on the ground. Race swore, attempting to sit up fast enough to at least put up some sort of fight, but a fist connected with his jaw, followed by another, and another, until he tasted blood and tears were running down his face.

“Get off a’ me!” He cried, swinging his arms wildly in an attempt to get any sort of punch in. He felt his fist hit something hard, and then he heard a vulgar curse from one of the men. Opening his eyes, Race saw him clutching his eye. He had no time to celebrate his success, however, for he was soon shoved back onto the ground, taking a beating that would soon have him lying helpless on the dark streets of Brooklyn.

He could hear the men laughing over the pounding in his ears, could feel the fists colliding with his body, making him jerk back and curl up, trying to protect himself. He felt so stupid, so useless. Covering his head with his arms, he squeezed his eyes shut and prayed for it to be over.

And just like that, it was.

There was a sudden deafening silence within the alleyway. Race, still in the fetal position, opened his eyes, slowly uncovering his head and moving his arms to his sides to attempt to push himself up, only to be met with searing pain throughout his whole body. Swearing, he fell back into his original position, unable to turn his neck to see what caused the men to suddenly stop. Was this some sort of sick game? Were they giving him a break before delivering the final blow? Race let out a sob he didn’t know he was holding in, covering his head again, his chest heaving.

“Jesus Christ,” He heard a voice say. Race only covered his face further, trying to stop the tears coming out of his eyes.

“Please stop!” He cried out wildly.

“Race? Jesus, Race, look at me.”

It was the same voice as before, now louder, the speaker clearly closer. The voice was laced with a thick accent and filled with concern. It wasn’t one of the voices of the men. This one was different, and Race would know that voice anywhere.

The Manhattan newsie managed to lift his arms high enough to look Spot Conlon in the eyes. Once he had made eye contact, Spot rushed forward to crouch beside him, worry etched over his normally calm and collected face.

“Race…” He said again, placing a hand on Race’s heaving shoulder, only to have the other boy jerk away, choking out a “No! Don’t touch me!”

“Fuck.” Spot mumbled, unbuttoning his own shirt and shrugging it off of his shoulders, leaving him in a thin, ripped undershirt. “Race, look at me. It’s me. It’s Spot. Those guys… they’s gone, Race. Let me help you.”

Race, still shaking uncontrollably, brought his hands away from his face, his eyes still squeezed shut. He nodded quickly, signifying that it was okay for Spot to approach him. Spot crawled over to the bleeding  boy and cradled his head in one hand while the other used his shirt to wipe the blood off of his forehead and away from his nose.

“W-what happened?” Race croaked, his eyes still squeezed shut. He balled his hands into fists at his sides as Spot accidentally swiped over the sensitive parts of his face, gasping. “Why are you helpin’ me?”

It’s not like him and Spot were friends. Sure, Spot let Race wander through Brooklyn to get to Sheepshead and sure, Race had the uncanny ability to make Spot blush, and sure, the two spent a lot more time together alone than may be considered normal for two newsies of different boroughs, but they weren’t friends.

“Don’t ask stupid questions.” Spot muttered, cradling Race’s face with his hands and slowly turning it from side to side, inspecting the damage that had been done. Race kept his eyes squeezed shut, feeling his cheeks burn under the younger boy’s touch. “What the hell did you get into?”

Race figured there was no use in lying. “Gamblin’. Got caught cheatin’. ” He finally allowed his eyes to flutter open to meet Spot’s. Spot quickly averted his own gaze, clearing his throat slightly and focusing his attention on Race’s other wounds.

“You’s an idiot.” He sighed “Bleedin’ everywhere too. Can you get up?”

“I dunno.” Race said truthfully, his voice still thick with tears. He extended his legs, attempting to conceal the gasps leaving his lips, not wanting to embarrass himself anymore in front of Spot, but failing to hide his obvious pain.

Spot instead of grinning at him and joking about how Race couldn’t take a soaking, stood up and held both hands out to the boy on the ground. Race looked at the hand for a moment before sighing and reaching up to take them. Spot gently pulled Race up. The obvious discomfort on the other boy’s face made his chest hurt. It seemed as soon as Race was standing at his full height, his knees gave out and he crumpled down again. Luckily, Spot was quick enough to catch him under the arms and stop his fall, muttering a strand of curses under his breath as he readjusted to support Race’s weight, winding one of the other boy’s arms around his shoulder and wrapping his own arm around Race’s waist.

“God damnit…” Race muttered, his voice tight with pain. “Those bastards probably broke my ribs.” He paused for a moment, looking down to where Spot’s hand was wrapped firmly around his thin waist, supporting him. “How did you…” He sniffed, wiping his nose on his own sleeve. “How did you get them away? Those guys, I mean.”

Spot took a tentative step forward, squeezing Race’s hip to get him to move forward as well. “Well, I saw ‘em chase you in here and… I was just gonna try to fight ‘em,” he let out a humorless laugh, “but they was big and I was outnumbered. So I told ‘em the police were comin’ and it sent ‘em runnin’ the other way.”

Race, who had previously been focused on walking without collapsing again, turned his head sharply to stare at the side of Spot’s face as the pair made their way out of the alley onto the darkened streets. “You saw ‘em chase me in here? What, you still keepin’ tabs on me?” He attempted to make his tone sound teasing and cocky, but due to his his scratchy throat and shaky voice, he just sounded pathetic and hopeful.

Spot didn’t answer him for a moment, his dark eyes staring straight ahead as he trudged toward the lodging house. “I like to keep track of what’s mine.” He finally responded, making Race’s eyes widen before he sputtered out a different response, “I mean no! I just- damnit- I just need to know what’s goin’ on in my borough, alright?”

“It was past your curfew.” Race commented through clenched teeth as a particularly sharp stab of pain made its way through his ribs. Spot shot him a glare.

“Do you want my help or not?” He spat, clearly uncomfortable with the topic. “I didn’t have’ta keep an eye on you. You’s lucky I decided to.”

Race fell silent after this, focusing more on the pain blossoming all over his body. ‘Jack’s gonna kill me’ he thought, his eyes shooting over to the outline of the bridge illuminated by the moon. ‘He’s gonna kill me and then Davey is gonna kill me again’ He shut his eyes, frustration building up within him. ‘Why did I have to stay out late tonight? Why did I have to be so stupid?’

He soon became so involved in his own worries that he didn’t notice Spot stop him in front of the Brooklyn lodging house. The King of Brooklyn, still holding onto him tightly, looked up at the large door, calculating the best way to get inside without causing a disturbance. Truthfully, he had been planning to sneak in that night, since Race had stayed out so late, and he couldn’t sleep until he knew Race was safely across the bridge and back in Manhattan. However, with Race in his current state, Spot didn’t know if he could make it through the window.

A few more moments of silenced passed between the pair; Spot was thinking of how to get in to the house and Race was cursing himself out, filled with shame and embarrassment that he was even in this situation.

Finally, Spot heaved a sigh and took Race’s arm off of his shoulders, removing his hand from Race’s waist. There was simply no other way to get in. “Can you stand on your own?” He asked, earning a slight nod from Race. “Good. Because we gotta climb through the window.”

Race sputtered out a “W-what? You- we- what? Why can’t you just knock?”

“I’m in charge of the newsies in Brooklyn. I ain’t in charge of the the house.” Spot mumbled. “There’s no way we can just waltz in the front door while it’s locked.”

Race blushed slightly at the obvious annoyance in Spot’s voice. He should be thankful the other boy was helping him at all. He nodded again and soon found himself being led around to the side of the building, his eyes constantly darting around for any sign of the men from before. Spot eventually found the window he was looking for, the one with boxes and miscellaneous items already stacked against the wall leading up to it, and grinned.

“This is the one. You’s gonna go in first and I’m gonna follow t’ make sure you don’t slip and kill yourself.”

Race wanted to protest and complain about his injuries, but knew he was in no position to to do so. Plus, he’d already made a big enough fool of himself already. So, clenching his jaw, he slowly made his way up the stacked boxes and spare parts until he could push the window open. Spot soon followed suit, ready to catch Race at any point, should he fall.

Race hissed as he lifted his right leg up to the final wooden box, his body screaming at him to stop the physical activity, but his brain forcing himself to drown out its prayers. Clenching his fingertips over the windowsill, Race pulled the rest of his body onto the final box.

“ ‘Atta boy!” He heard Spot whisper behind him, causing his already red cheeks to turn even redder.

“Shut up.” He muttered, calculating his final steps to get into the window. He reached one arm over the windowsill, furrowed his brow, and decided to do it all in one go, lifting his weight off the box and trying to pull himself through the gap. However, the intensity of the pain in his arm caught him off guard and he slipped backwards with a poorly hidden squeak of surprise. He felt his stomach jolt as his balance left him and for a moment was prepared to crash to the ground, but then Spot’s hands were reaching out and preventing his fall, unfortunately, both hands having to support Race right on his backside.

“Easy there, hotshot.” He hissed. “You wanna wake the whole damn neighborhood up?”

“No! Get your hands off my ass.” Race snapped back, secretly thankful for Spot’s assistance but now even more embarrassed than before. Spot rolled his eyes behind him and, instead of taking his hands off of Race, he pushed him up the rest of the way through the window before clambering up himself.

When he finally settled both feet on the floor, he noticed Race gripping his left arm and wincing as he looked around the room. To his right, there was a single, small bed with an even smaller dresser at the foot of it, and across the room was a desk, a chair, and near the door was a sink. “This all yours?” He asked, clearly impressed.

Spot took a few steps forward, taking Race’s arm in his hands. “Being the king has its perks” He answered, not looking Race in the eye, running his hand up and down the arm, checking for any obvious breaks. “Your arm ain’t broken but it’s swelled up somethin’ fierce. I can wrap it.”

Race pulled the limb away. “You don’t need to. I just need somewhere to sleep before I go home and get killed by Jack.”

“Yeah and he’s gonna kill me too if you go home lookin’ like you do.” Spot retorted, striding over to the dresser and yanking open the drawers, rummaging through until he eventually found a long, thick piece of fabric. “This’ll do,” He muttered, walking back over to Race and gesturing at him.

Race cocked his head to the side, still holding his arm, unsure of what Spot wanted him to do. The younger boy rolled his eyes again. “Off with the shirt.”

Race felt his face heat up, but knew he had to do as he was told, or Spot would probably send him right back out that window. He brought his still shaking hands up to his shirt and undid the buttons, sliding his suspenders off of his shoulders and eventually shrugging the shirt off as well.

Spot was suddenly more tense than before, his words coming out short and strained. “Arm out.” Race held his arm out and let out an “Oh, lord” at the sight of the swollen, bruised wrist and the bruised forearm and bicep. Spot, now refusing to even look at him, reached out and attempted to begin wrapping it, but Race immediately jumped back at the contact, cursing loudly and biting his lip.

Spot jerked his head up to look at Race’s face, poorly hiding his worry behind a half-scowl. “Don’t do that!” He ordered. “The more you move the more it’ll hurt. C’mere.”

Race hated the way his chest tightened when Spot said “C’mere”. He hated the way it sounded so affectionate and concerned. He hated that he was in this situation: a shirtless, blushing, pained mess in the middle of Spot’s bedroom. He hated that he wanted Spot to make him feel better and hold him close until the sunrise.  

“I…” He began, slowly holding his arm back out. “It hurts” He finally said honestly, looking down at the ground in shame. “I’m sorry.”

Spot paused for a moment, gnawing on his bottom lip as he carefully took Race’s arm back in his hands. Ignoring the fluttering in his stomach, he took a deep breath and reached forward to tilt Race’s chin up in a way that wasn’t romantic at all, no sir. Their eyes met.

“Look at me— just breathe, okay?”

Race’s wide eyes blinked at him once before he let out a tiny, breathless “Okay,” finding it harder and harder to ignore their close proximity and how Spot was looking so deeply into his eyes. If he just moved a little closer he could-

Spot suddenly cleared his throat and looked back down at Race’s arm. His expression had turned hard as he realized the intensity of the moment. This was wrong. Helping Race— a newsie who didn’t even belong to him— and thinking of Race in… that way. It was wrong.

He began wrapping Race’s arm with fixed concentration, acutely aware of how Race had listened to his advice and was taking deep, slow breaths to help distract him from the pain. Once the job was finished and the fabric was tied at the end, Spot squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, dreading the next moments that would, without a doubt, be incredibly awkward.

He eventually took a step back from Race, still not meeting his eyes and brushed his hands off on his pants, taking his shirt from over his shoulder and tossing it on top of the dresser. “Uh… There ya go.” He said, the normal smooth charm completely missing from his voice.

Race inspected the bandage on his arm, noticing how Spot wrapped it so he could still bend it. Suddenly overcome with a strange, warm feeling in his chest, he looked up at the other boy, who was suddenly much too far away. “Spot,” Race said, causing Spot to freeze in his steps. He finally looked at Race with a questioning expression on his face, waiting for Race to finish his thought.

“Thank you.”

Spot’s cheeks burned. “It’s nothin’,” He attempted to turn back to his dresser and end the conversation. He couldn’t look at Race standing there, shirtless, in the middle of the room, looking beautiful and vulnerable, without losing control. “Don’t worry abou-“

“No— I mean… I mean thank you for everything.” Race interrupted, limping forward to turn Spot around by his shoulder. “Thanks for, uh, for watchin’ over me.” He finished, now shuffling awkwardly back and forth on his feet, suddenly very aware that he was half naked and that Spot was staring at him.

The silence that fell after he was done speaking was haunting. Race tensed, not knowing if Spot was going to turn around and ignore his statement or possibly punch him in the face for being too close and too honest. Spot Conlon wasn’t really known for doing “emotions”.

Race was considering walking away and leaving the conversation at that, but Spot spoke just as he was about to turn away.

“I’m glad you’re okay.”

The injured boy couldn’t help the smile that slid onto his face at Spot’s honesty. The younger of the two was staring at him intently, his eyes flicking down to Race lips before he forced them back up. Race’s smile faltered slightly, his expression turning serious as he saw Spot looking at his lips. Instead of fear filling his brain, desire clouded over his mind and he swallowed hard, looking Spot in the eyes, silently daring him to do something. When he didn’t move, Race took the initiative.

“Yeah, well,” He breathed out, taking another step closer so that their noses were almost brushing, taking Spot not punching the daylights out of him as a good sign. “I’m glad you saved me.”

It was a cheesy line, he knew it. But it was definitely the right thing to say because the next thing Race knew’ Spot’s hands were on the side of his face and his lips were smashed against his.

Race stumbled backwards, but one of Spot’s hands snuck it’s way around to the small of his back, supporting him and bringing him back so that their chests were pressed together. Race brought his hands to Spot’s neck and kissed him back eagerly, several different elated, anxious, and confused thoughts filling his head. He pushed them aside as Spot retreated for a moment, breathing heavily.

Neither boy said anything for a minute, but slowly two smiles made their way onto their faces, acting as a silent communication that this was okay. Nothing else needed to be said at that moment, and Spot leaned back in to recapture Race’s mouth with his own.

And, for the moment, Race felt safe.

~~~~~~~~~~~

SEND ME PROMPTS!

#spraced out #mine #answered #sprace #spot conlon #racetrack higgins #newsies #newsies fanfiction #will anybody see this? probably not! #tbh im still in shocked that anyone asked for a prompt #malwrites

[gothchic6]

Silver’s Skater Girl Chapter 7: The Gym and a New Friend

Disclaimer: I don't own Pokémon or anything associated with Pokémon. I own Calypso, Monica, and JC, though.

*Calypso's far off yell* "You do not!"

***

Considering that I stayed up until around 2AM last night, I woke up rather early in the morning. I got up at around 9AM, but only because the sunlight from outside was pouring in through the window, and directly at my face. I couldn't stand the heat on my face, so I grudgingly got up, got a shower, and woke up all of the Pokémon, with the exception of Forest, who has been awake since dawn.

At the moment, my Pokémon and I are at the dining area of the Pokémon Center having breakfast. Luckily for us, breakfast at Pokémon Centers are always free. Otherwise, I'd probably be having leftover chips and salsa for breakfast. Instead, I'm having cereal.

After all of us finish breakfast, I head out towards the Pokémon Gym. Cyndi is walking by my side, while Forest is sitting on my back, his vines wrapped around my neck in a piggy-back ride fashion. Forest and I have bonded enough that I can now understand him when he talks, though he has a thick accent that makes it slightly difficult to understand him.

As promised, he's helping me come up with battle strategies for the Gym Battle against Falkner. Seeing as he's a Grass Type, he won't be battling. We've decided that it would be best to use Cyndi and Dusk for the battle. Cyndi's the most powerful of all of them, especially with her firepower, while Dusk has a type advantage against Normal Type Pokémon like Pidgey, which I'm quite sure Falkner could use.

We finally get to the Gym. I stop in front of the door, pausing to stare at it for a moment before finally going in. When I get in there, I see no one except for one guy standing next to two Pokémon statues.

I walk up to him, a confused look on my face. "You can't be the Gym Leader, can you? No offense, but you don't look like the kind of guy who would be a Gym Leader."

The guy just laughs, and responds, "You're right, I'm not the Gym Leader. I am, however, here to help you in beating the Gym Leader."

I gaze at him quizzically. "You want to help me beat the Gym Leader, huh? Well, it would help if the Gym Leader was actually here."

"The Gym Leader is here. Just look up."

I do as he says, and raise my head towards the ceiling. Then, it all makes sense. My eyes widen at the size of the platform at the top of the Gym. I can see the wooden floor of the platform, along with glass parts that extend around the wooden part. I look back to the guy, an astonished expression on my face.

"The Gym Leader is all the way up there?"

The guy nods knowingly, and addresses me. "So, Champ-in-the-making, Falkner is a Flying type trainer. Grass Types are weak against Flying Types", he says as he gestures to Forest, who still has his vines wrapped around my neck, "I hope you're not going to battle Falkner using that Bellsprout."

My eyes narrow. "Of course not. While Forest is a great Pokémon, he's not suited for this Gym. I know what I'm doing. Now would you do me a favor, and tell me how I can get to Falkner? It would much appreciated."

My annoyed, yet slightly angry tone makes the man sweat in anxiety. I can see him gulp, his Adam's apple showing, before he points to a section on the floor that has a Poké Ball on it, and is a moderately different type of wood than the rest of the floor.

"Step on that, and it will take you up to the platform where Falkner will be waiting for you. Good luck."

I nod. Cyndi, Forest, and I step on the square, and suddenly, it starts rising rapidly! I almost lose my balance, but quickly manage to regain it. It takes little more than 30 seconds before we are all the way at the top.

There is a wooden walkway in a "S" shape that allows the two gym trainers to see you if you walk on it. Then, there is a translucent glass walkway that allows you to skip the gym trainers if you wish. I decide to battle them since experience never hurts. There are two trainers. The first one only has a Spearow that Cyndi defeats with two Ember attacks. The second one has two Pidgeys, which Dusk takes out with a few Psywaves.

We walk to the final platform, where the Gym Leader is looking at us. I know his name is Falkner, and that his specialty is Flying type Pokémon, but other than that, I don't know much about him. He is tall, probably just a little under six foot, and has a stable looking body structure. His dark blue hair is shaggy, and part of it hangs over his blue eyes. I might have found him attractive if he wasn't smirking at me in the most irritatingly way possible.

We finally get close enough to speak to him. He is still smirking, and goes on to say,

"It's impressive, the way you took out my students' Pokémon."

I smirk back, and respond, "Yeah, and I didn't even use an Electric type to do it."

Falkner stiffens at my reference to Flying Pokémons' weakness to electricity. An irritated frown appears on his face, and he stands up straight.

"I'm Falkner, the Violet City Pokémon Gym Leader! People say you can clip Flying-type Pokémon's wings with a jolt of electricity... I won't allow such insults to bird Pokémon! I'll show you the real power of the magnificent bird Pokémon!"

He sends out a Pidgey, and I roll my eyes. Easy. I send out Dusk, who looks excited at the prospect of battling a Gym Leader.

Falkner looks at Dusk with fear in his dark blue eyes. I know what we are both thinking: His Pidgey doesn't know any non-Normal offensive move, so he can't do any direct damage to Dusk. So, instead, he decides to defend.

"Pidgey, use your Sand Attack!" Pidgey goes to shoot sand in Dusk's face, but it doesn't affect her whatsoever.

"Wha—", Falkner says, shocked.

I smirk in triumph. "Dusk has the ability, Levitate! Any ground type moves used against her won't have any effect at all", I say smugly. Then, I tell Dusk to use her Psywave attack.

Both Falkner and his Pidgey try to cover their ears as Dusk's loud screech sends a wave of Psychic energy towards the Pidgey. It doesn't knock it out, but causes considerable damage to it.

Falkner looks at me with both amazement and annoyance. He then makes the wisest decision he can to shift the battle so he's winning.

"Pidgey, return! Pidgeotto, assist us!"

His half-defeated Pidgey returns to its Poké Ball with relief on it's face while the newly released Pidgeotto is glaring at Dusk and I. I don't think it likes the condition we put its comrade into.

"Pidgeotto, use Gust", Falkner says in urgency.

The Gust hits Dusk straight on, and I know she's not strong enough to withstand it, especially with it being a Flying type move coming from a Flying type Pokémon with high stats. She floats slowly to the ground, where she lies, not knocked out, but almost down. Falkner goes to attack her again, but I recall her before the Pidgeotto does any damage.

"I'm sorry, Dusk. Good job", I whisper as I put her Dusk Ball back onto my belt. Falkner is smirking once again, and I want to smack him for it.

"Now who's the one with one Pokémon nearly fainted", he says smugly. I just roll my eyes.

"Yeah, but remember: You have two Pokémon, and I have four. I outnumber you two to one."

Falkner clenches his teeth in annoyance. I raise my eyebrows, and send Cyndi to deal with his Pidgeotto.

"Cyndi, use your Ember attack!"

Cyndi shoots a fire ball at the Pidgeotto, and hits it straight on. It does considerable damage, but it doesn't come close to knocking it out.

Falkner commands his Pidgeotto to use Gust. I tell Cyndi to dodge it, but she isn't quick enough, and she gets hit. I know if we don't take out Pidgeotto quickly, we're going to be in some deep shit.

"Cyndi, use Ember, and then use Quick Attack!"

Cyndi sends an Ember towards Pidgeotto, which hits it directly. Falkner gasps as Cyndi goes in for the knockout move. Pidgeotto tries to dodge Cyndi's Quick Attack, but it is too hurt from from the Ember to move very far. Cyndi hits it dead on, and the Pidgeotto falls to the floor, fainted.

Falkner gasps , and recalls Pidgeotto. I can hear him whisper praise to it as he switches it out for his half defeated Pidgey.

Cyndi wants to fight some more, but she is hurt from Pidgeotto's Gust attack.

"Come on, Cyndi. I can tell Pidgeotto hurt you. You did a good job out there. It's time for a nice rest."

I convince her to go back in her Poké Ball.

"What, don't you think your Quilava can take on my Pidgey? Or is it too weak?"

I roll my eyes yet again, and respond quite dryly, "No, not too weak. Too tired. I hate to admit it, but your Pidgeotto's Gust really put a beating on Cyndi. So instead of her possibly fainting, I'm going to have another one of my Pokémon take a shot at it."

I then release Spirit from her Poké Ball, who doesn't like the intense light of the gym. It is obvious that she was taking a nap. She looks at me questioningly, but I just give her a look that says, "Come on, please?" She hops off my shoulder, and glares at the reason she had to wake up from her nap.

The weakened Pidgey looks scared, but Falkner looks at Spirit with a certain type of fondness in his eyes.

"So you also use the Flying type", he says fondly.

I glance at him, and reply, "Well, yeah. They're a staple type for any Pokémon Trainer. Now, Spirit, finish Falkner's Pidgey off with a Faint Attack!"

Spirit disappears, and Pidgey is looking for her. Spirit strikes behind the Pidgey's back, and the Pidgey faints. I cheer, and Spirit cheers along with me.

Falkner looks at his Pokémon on the ground, and back at me. He recalls his fallen Pokémon, and then slowly approaches me.

"I did not get your name before we started battle. What is it", he asks.

"Calypso."

He stretches his arm out, and in his hand is a silver badge with a wing pattern on it.

"The Zephyr Badge. You deserve it Calypso."

I smile at Falkner, and take the Zephyr Badge from his hand.

"Thanks, Falkner."

He smiles again, and says something about the gyms ahead. Something about a gym in Azalea Town, I think? Then, he hands me a technical machine.

"What's this for", I ask.

"It's the TM for the move Roost. Roost heals your Pokémon when you use it. Put it to good use!"

I grin, and say, "Thanks Falkner. I'm sure it'll come in handy."

And with that, I leave the gym.

The second I walk out the gym, I get a call from Professor Elm.

"Hello, Calypso."

"Hey, Professor."

"Calypso, remember the Pokémon Egg you delivered to me from Mr. Pokémon?"

"Yeah. What about it?"

"Well… apparently, the Egg will only hatch if it is near other active Pokémon."

"And?"

"I need you to take the Egg. One of my aides is in the Poké Mart in Violet City. He has the Egg. Go get it from him, and carry it around with you as you journey around. When it hatches, come show me what type of Pokémon it is. Do you think you could that for me?"

I sweatdrop a little, but then nod in acceptance.

"I can do that, Professor. I'll go get the Egg right now."

"Thanks, Calypso! I know I can count on you."

Then he hangs up.

I walk over the Poké Mart, which is almost next to the gym. I go inside, and see the Aide waiting for me.

"How long have you been waiting here for me?"

The Aide smiles gratefully, and replies, "Not very long, Calypso. I'm just glad you're here. Now, the Professor told you why you're here, correct?"

"Yeah. I'm supposed to pick up the Pokémon Egg, right?"

"Yes", he says as he takes the Egg out of the bag he is carrying and hands it to me. I almost forgot what it looks like. It is a beige color with a red and blue triangle pattern on it. He also hands me a cloth thing with straps on it.

"What is this", I question.

"That", he replies with a smile on his face, "is a device I created myself. It's for carrying Pokémon Eggs! Here, I'll show you how to put it on!"

He takes the Egg from me, and puts it back in his bag. Then, he loops the straps around my arms. When he's done, there's a pouch for the Egg to be carried in.

He gets the Egg back out, and puts it in the pouch.

"There! Aww, Calypso, you look like the perfect surrogate mother!"

Then, the Aide says goodbye, and leaves me in the Poké Mart with the Egg.

I rub my hand over the Egg, and it feels slightly warm. I wonder when it will hatch?

I walk out of the Poké Mart, and go to the Pokémon Center, where the clone heals my Pokémon. Then, I start walking towards Route 32.

I just crossed into Route 32, where I caught Forest not too long ago. Speaking of Forest, I have him walking on my right side right now, while Cyndi is walking on my left side. Both Spirit and Dusk are in their Poké Balls, still tired from the gym battle. They also don't like the sunlight that Route 32 has at the moment.

There's a middle-aged bald guy who blocks me from going through the rest of the route. He smiles at me, and it creeps me out a little. He then looks at Forest and Cyndi, and he smiles again.

"Your Pokémon look really strong! Did you train them at the Violet City Gym?"

I give him my best creeped out look, and I respond slowly, "Yeah… Why?"

"Oh, nothing. Here, I'll give this to you for beating the Gym! It's a Miracle Seed. It boosts the power of grass type moves!"

He hands me the seed, and steps aside so I can pass through. It looks normal, so I give it to Forest.

I traveled along the route, battling all of the trainers, and even some wild Pokémon. I got some phone numbers from a few trainers, too.

I got one from a gossipy girl named Liz who I will enjoy calling in the middle of the night, and one from a fisherman named Ralph, who apparently spends more time with his Pokémon than with his own kids.

It is in the evening by the time I am almost to the Pokémon Center. I go to walk by this creepy looking fat guy, but he stops me.

"How would you like to buy a deliciousss…", he slurps as he says this part, which makes me cringe, "Slowpoke tail? For you, only 1,000,000! How about it?"

I know that people eat Pokémon all the time, but just the thought of someone cutting off a Slowpoke's tail just for consumption really pisses me off. Imagine the pain that poor Slowpoke is in now, if it isn't dead! Not to mention, the price is unreasonably high for even the richest Pokémon Trainer!

"Uh… how about no? Where did you even get that thing, anyway?"

He narrows his eyes, and yells at me to get out of here.

Um… how about fuck you? He's such a creep.

"Cool", I say sarcastically, "See ya, you creep!"

He looks ready to run after me, but Cyndi sends a glare his way. He falters for a second, and Cyndi uses that moment to expose the flames on her back. He runs off, looking scared.

"Nice work, Cyndi. Now I know that creeper won't be stalking us the rest of the way."

She grins in amusement, and rubs her head against my leg. I lean down and run my fingers through her fur. She leans her head against my hand in affection. I also lean down with my other hand, and pet Forest's head. He grabs my hand with his leaves, and shakes my hand.

It is around seven in the evening when we arrive at the Route 32 Pokémon Center. Cyndi and Forest look tired, and I'm actually kind of tired, too.

We enter the Pokémon Center, and I hear both a gasp of joy and a growl of annoyance.

And with those two noises, I knew my night wasn't going to be a night of relaxation, whatsoever.

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