Pokémon Beasts Like Us

[NebulaDreams]

Summary:

Glen, an unevolved Machoke and a driver for a Pokemon-run removal company, wants to adopt a Machop to fill the void in his life. The only problem? In order for Glen to officially take him in, he’ll have to introduce him to his boyfriend… who just happens to be human.

Author’s Note:

So, right off the bat, yes, this is a Pokemon x human story. I had avoided writing about it up until now because it’s not my cup of tea despite writing other stories featuring interspecies relationships, and I didn’t know if I could pull it off within this Pokemon world I've built. However, the more I explored the issue with one of my side characters, the more I just needed to write it out because it tapped into a lot of personal themes.

If this is not for you, that’s totally fine. But I want people to approach the story on its own terms, especially as it poses difficult questions that don’t come with easy answers.

This will be a three-parter fic where the next two chapters will be staggered out among the next couple of weeks. You may recognise Glen as the driver that cameos in Gathering Moss. This has no bearing on this story; it’s just a nice treat for those who have read that one-shot.

With that out of the way, I hope you enjoy reading.

Content warnings: Smoking, drinking, swearing, intimacy, body dysphoria, internalised homophobia, ethical discussions of interspecies relationships. Rated Teen.

Disclaimer: The Pokemon-human relationship passes the harkness test as the protagonist is a sapient talking Pokemon (in a world where sapient Pokemon are not uncommon), and is depicted as an equal partnership between two consenting adults.

---

Beasts Like Us

Part 1: A Machoke Takes A Cigarette Break​

I’m on my tenth Sandy Numel today. The cigarette smoke seeps in and out of my chest, carrying my worries through the autumn air. Those other Machoke and Machamp can handle the job on their own, and it’s above my paygrade, so I can get away with sneaking behind the van. Besides, it gives me an excuse to check my phone.

Barry’s working overtime, so he’ll be coming home late. That’s fine. It’s just that I’ve been waiting all day for that daycare centre to ring back, but it’s 4PM and there are still no new messages. What the hell is taking them so long? I’m about to text them when the Machamp, Hammer, sneaks up and slaps my back, and I nearly swallow my cigarette.

“Fucking hell,” I snap. “You’re gonna give me a heart attack one of these days.”

“Better a heart attack than whatever that thing is. It’ll stunt your growth, Glen.”

I blink and take another drag. I don’t think he realises how much that growth comment hurts, whether he meant it or not. “What’d you need me for anyway?”

Hammer leads me to the view of the spacious limestone house we’re moving stuff into. Not a whole lot of moving is going on as two of the delivery Machoke stand around the front garden with their arms crossed; right beside them is a varnished table set on a manicured lawn. Hammer then points to our human client chewing out Rip, one of our top crew members.

“That human’s being a right pain in the rear,” Hammer grumbles.

I sigh and stamp my smoke into the dirt with the tip of my boot. Of course I’m the only Pokemon in the team that can deal with crap like this. I charge into the fray where the middle-aged human with a face the colour of an undercooked Magikarp fillet wags his finger at Rip.

“How could you even think about moving the desk with those ham fists of yours? It’s mahogany! Ma-ho-ga-ny! Do you even know how valuable it is?”

Rip throws up his hands as if he’s being mugged by a Scrafty.

“What’s going on?” I say in human tongue.

“Oh, he talks!” The human fans the air. “Tell these goons to be careful with my stuff!”

“Goons, my butt,” Rip scoffs as he walks off. That’s my cue to step in.

“Sir,” I start, “I’ve been with this team for five years. We wouldn’t be hiring Pokémon if we didn’t think they’re capable of leaving everything in one piece.”

“One piece? Have you seen the way they pick stuff up?” He lifts a wooden chair from the porch as if he’s about to throw it through the window. “Like this?”

I pinch the bridge of my snout. “You wanted the Mach N’ Van to help you today, didn’t you?”

“Wasn’t my bloody idea to hire Pokémon to do the heavy lifting! Blame my wife for that!”

He’s seriously bringing his partner into this. I think of how Barry would feel if I ever talked about him that way, and heat rises in my chest.

“You know…” I lower my voice and step within slapping distance of the human. Even though I’m the same height as he is, he’s already shrinking up. “If that’s how you act around everyone, I’d be embarrassed to be your wife.”

He’ll either fly off the handle and call off the job, or back down and let us do our damn work. Thank Arceus he steps back.

“Now, sir,” I continue, “if you let the crew do their work, we’ll be out of your hair for good. We’ll take extra care of your valuables. Alright?”

All the colour drains from the human’s puffed-up face. “Right. Fine. Just do it.”

“Thanks, sir.”

I bite down the urge to light another cigarette as Hammer beckons our crew to the front garden.

“Well, guys, we can go ahead now, thanks to Glen.” I squirm as Hammer pats my back again. “Take that as a learning experience. I’ve dealt with trainers like that all the time, especially ones in the league that thought they were better just because they had psychics or whatever…”

My hand drifts to my pocket as he speaks about the good old days. I’m not going to start lighting up in front of the crew, but Hammer just makes it too tempting sometimes.

“All this to say that you shouldn’t let anyone get to your head, whether they’re humans or Pokemon,” Hammer concludes.

“Do we have to help that human out?” Rip whines.

“Just do your job. All of you, including you, Mister Puff Puff.” Hammer grins at me with those big lips of his. “The sooner we get out of here, the better.”

I’m not going to kick up a fuss as it’s the last job of the day and everyone wants to go home already. Mostly me. I’ll focus on the smaller but more fragile objects like the ornaments and vases as it strains my back the least. I take it one step at a time as I go up the front steps into the house, then into the living room where I’ll drop off the rest of the possessions.

Even without the furnishing, this lounge reeks of luxury, from the gilded window three times my size to the fireplace with a housewarming present in the hearth. I’d never be able to afford this in my lifetime, not that I want it. What would I do with all that space?

I go back and forth between the van and the house, mostly keeping to myself while the others move beds and chairs and whatnot into different rooms, until there’s one box left. I follow after two Machoke who carry that oh so precious mahogany table into the living room. I’m about to add my box to the pile when the two stop to glare at me with questioning red eyes.

The moment lasts two seconds before they leave, but their look says everything. They know I’m weak. It doesn’t matter that I’m probably twice as old as them. You don’t get through life as an unevolved Machoke without sensing when someone’s looking down on you.

I take deep breaths, just like Barry taught me. It’s fine. This job’s just a stopgap for them, just another way for them to build their muscles before they go back to their trainers. This is how I make my living. That’s what I have to hang onto.

It takes a few moments for me to pull myself together and return to the van, and even when I’m behind the wheel, I still feel rattled. I just want to smoke and play some of my tunes, but that’ll piss off the crew even more, so I drive in silence as I try to navigate Circhester’s outskirts.

I feel uneasy the whole ride back, especially with all the winding country roads and Sunday drivers cutting me off or forgetting to indicate. Some say Pokémon can’t drive, but I could probably afford a new car if all the bad human drivers in Galar donated 100 Pokedollars each. After all that stopping and starting and an annoyingly steep stretch uphill, I finally reach the Mach n’ Van base.

Before I even get the chance to stop the van, everyone in the back unbuckles their seatbelts and steps out.

“Hey, that’s danger–”

Forget it. The Machoke are already running off into the fields, burning the energy they’ve held in throughout the drive. At least Hammer has the sense to keep himself buckled while I park onto the driveway.

“I’m gonna run them over one of these days if they keep doing that,” I say.

“Don’t sweat it,” Hammer says. “It’ll take more than that to do them in.”

“Whatever.” I sigh. I finally have the chance to pull out another cigarette. “Could you give me some space?”

“Sure, Mister Puff Puff.” Hammer pats my back again before he steps out of the van. I wish he’d stop doing that; I’m not some Machop. But whatever. Hammer’s got his own business to deal with anyway as he heads towards the house overlooking the vast field dotted with fighting types. This is the home base where the humans managing the company live. I’ve got to talk to them to collect my pay, but for now, I need my fix.

I almost take out my lighter when my phone buzzes.

“For fuck’s sake,” I mutter. I’ll go feral if it’s another scam caller. My tune changes completely when I see it’s from the daycare centre and I answer right away.

“Glen speaking,” I say.

“Glen… Oh, the Machoke?” the human caretaker chirps. “You don’t sound like a Machoke over the phone!”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Um, you know, your voice, it’s…” She clears her throat. “Anyway, Dex is happy to spend a day with you to see how things go.”

I almost drop my cigarette. “When can he come over?”

“Any time! Just tell us what date works best for you!”

I pause. It would be nice to spend the weekend with him so I don’t have to work, but Dex wants to see what it’s like, so I’m not opposed to him tagging along. He’ll either like it or think it sucks. Besides, I want to ease him in before he meets Barry.

“Tomorrow’s fine.”

“So soon, huh? That should work. It’ll be nice to see you then!”

I hum a reply and hang up. Something bubbles in my chest like I’ve chugged too much Pekkochu. So this is happening. I’m adopting a Machop, maybe. The kid’s got to decide whether or not he wants to stay with us still, but it’s a start.

I can’t wait to tell Barry, but I’ve got errands to run. I grab my cash from the manager, ten-thousand Pokedollars, though I don’t stay for any chit-chat. I should at least let Hammer know about tomorrow’s plans. He’s in the annex’s kitchen chopping up veggies. Even as a Machoke, I feel wary being around a four-armed fighting type wielding a knife.

“You off?” he asks.

“Yeah. I’d like to bring a Machop along tomorrow if that’s cool. He wants some work experience.”

“Sure, I’ve got no problems with that. I’d always like an extra hand on deck.” He hums. “How’d you meet him anyhow?”

“Oh, I just know him from somewhere.”

His eyes narrow. “Somewhere?”

I breathe through my nose. How do I tell him about the daycare business without him asking a whole bunch of other questions?

“Forget it. I know you like to keep things hush hush.”

“It’s not that,” I snap. How would he understand? “It’s–” I sigh–”just whatever happens, cut him some slack. He’s just lost his parents in the wild.”

I can see the gears turning in Hammer’s head. He lowers his eyes and turns back, bell pepper in hand. “Got it. I’ll see you both tomorrow, I guess, unless you wanna stay for dinner. It's the crew’s favourite: paella.”

My gut twists. Some grub wouldn’t hurt. It’ll be a couple of hours before Barry gets home from work anyway.

I stare out the kitchen window where the Machoke play fight in the front garden. Some buried part of me still itches for the fight, that feeling of skin on skin, blow to blow, even if I won’t be any match for them. But I know I don’t belong there with them. None of them get what it feels like to be around other Machoke, like I’m some Mimikyu playing dress-up as one.

“I’m good,” I finally say. “I’ve got stuff to do.”

“As mysterious as ever. Suit yourself.” Hammer shrugs and continues performing his kitchen duties. Whatever, nothing more needs to be said, so I’m out.

I leave the van behind as that belongs to the company. I’ve got my own ride, a Rhyhorn V82. As soon as I sit behind the wheel, I feel right at home. I hold up my lighter, inspecting the cartoony Machoke engraved on the silver case. I’m so glad Barry got it for me as a present. To think I never celebrated birthdays before he came into my life. All the stress in my body ebbs away as soon as I light another one up. Sweet release.

What’s even sweeter is that I can finally play the rest of that new Torterror album, Cursed Earth. I bob my head to the blast beats as I drive down to central Circhester. This album’s even better than their last one, from the performances to those singer’s screams. It makes trying to find a place to park in Circhester’s streets a lot more bearable, as my flat’s nestled right in the city centre in all its foot-stomping, binge-drinking, Pokemon-crying, horn-blaring glory, tucked above a phone shop.

Even though I’ve lived at this place for a couple of years, people still turn their heads at a Machoke parking their car near here. Thank Arceus nobody stops me, though I still look over my shoulder as I unlock the front door to my place.

As expected, Barry isn’t in yet. The flat always looks so sad without him as his game controllers and vinyl records are dotted around odd parts of the living room, going unused. There’s only a little light filtering in from our tiny window, and all it leads to is the view of loud humans on their pub crawls. There are little patches of mold in the corner as well. That’s something we have to sort out between ourselves, but for now, I kick off my boots and collapse on the settee.

I zone out to Natuflix while I wait for Barry to come back from work. Last Strongman Standing is a good way to kill time, especially so I can admire the muscles on display with those big, burly humans pulling lorries and whatnot.

They have a version of this with fighting-type Pokémon, naturally. There is a novelty to a Machamp breaking a wall with their pinkies, sure, but humans have to work twice as hard to gain their strength. That’s a hell of a lot more admirable than being born with it. I love Bronson Brown in particular, just my type, big, chunky, like Barry, but with more muscle than fat. I can’t ever imagine Barry carrying those marble balls around like they do in the show.

I don’t know how long I get lost in the show for, but the front door opens and I pause the TV. It’s Barry. I don’t even give him a chance to take his coat off before I run up and pull him into a tackle hug.

I press my snout against his neck, nuzzling his skin, savouring his touch. He’s so warm. His tender hands snake along my back as we exchange kisses, nails lightly massaging me through my shirt. I pull back to get a good look at his face. I love everything about it from his mane of hair to his beard, brown with flecks of silver and gold, to that bulbous, pierced nose of his, which makes him look like a prized Tauros. My prized Tauros.

Barry tries to pull me in for another kiss when our noses collide. It actually hurts, especially with that ring.

“Oh shit, sorry!” Barry says in between chuckles. “Are you alright?”

I massage the end of my snout. “I’ve taken worse hits.”

“I can believe it.” He pulls me in again, carefully this time as he tilts his head to kiss me. Much better. I peck him back; he tastes like bubblegum, a taste I’ve gotten used to ever since he started vaping. We plop down on the settee, and I let the big lug scoop me in his arms like a Meowth.

We just stay in each other’s embrace, long enough that the TV’s screensaver turns on, giving us a postcard view of rural Motostoke. We don’t say anything, but neither of us need to. I don’t want the moment to end, yet I’m itching to tell Barry about our plans.

“How was work?” I ask.

“It’s whatever.” His eyes glaze over as they usually do whenever he talks about his day. “It’s report season, so you know how it is.”

I still don’t know what his charity does exactly, something about Pokemon trainer support programmes, but Barry’s been having panic attacks ever since he got promoted. It sucks that all I can do is give him moral support.

“You… managing fine?”

“Yeah, I got everything done that I needed to.” He huffs. “Though my boss asked me to print off a bunch of stuff that nobody’s gonna read for some trustee meeting. It’s not even my job, y’know.”

“Isn’t this the same guy who doesn’t know how to take a screenshot or whatever the hell it’s supposed to be?”

“Uh huh.” He sighs. “Whatever. I got to listen to that Torterror album while I was on my laptop.”

“It’s cool stuff, huh?”

“Hell yeah. Can’t wait to see them live.”

I smooch him again. It’s been ages since our last gig, so that’s something to look forward to at the end of this month.

“Do you wanna tell me how work went today?” Barry asks, as if my response to that question ever changes. At least I have a good excuse to dance around the topic this time.

“The daycare called. Dex is coming around tomorrow.”

“Oh shit.” Barry releases his grip and blinks. “That’s… really soon.”

“He’s only coming here in the evening since I’m taking him to work. But I’d thought I’d warn you.”

“Okay.” Barry tugs at his beard hairs. “I guess I’ll try to cook something extra nice this time.”

“If you’re up for it. I want Dex to feel at home as much as he can.”

“Of course.”

The silence lasts long enough that the TV goes into sleep mode.

“I hope he likes me,” Barry says at last, chuckling. “As much as he could like a human dad.”

His words don’t match up with his casual tone.

“We talked about this,” I huff. “There’s no way of knowing how he’ll feel about it. Or how anyone would.”

Barry hums. He carries on pulling his beard until a whole clump of stubble lands in his palm. I try to stop him by taking his hand in mine, tracing my coarse, blistered fingers along his smooth skin. He digs his nails into my calloused palm.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” I let the moment sit for a bit. “Look, I really want this. I want to bring a Machop into our world and give him the chances I never got. We could get him lessons if he wanted. Even if he gets saddled with a trainer or ends up working for some moving company, he’d still have something to come back to, y’know. We could really make this his own space too. He’d have his toys or his Nintendos or his punching bags or whatever.”

Barry hums in affirmation. “Yeah,”

“But…” I take a deep breath. “There’s still a chance to call it off. I’d rather not go into this if you’re having second thoughts.”

“No, it’s not that.” Barry tucks his hands in his lap, sitting upright. “I’d like to be a dad, y’know, staying home and all that. I think it’d be better for me, honestly, rather than being in the office.” He smirks. “I can’t imagine it’ll be much different from raising a little human.”

We discussed adopting a human before, but there’s no way in hell that would happen between us. It would be easy to keep some wild, animal-like Pokemon as a pet, but comparing that to this situation is like comparing orans to nanabs.

“There’ll be some differences. Machop are a lot more full of piss and vinegar than the average kid.”

“Like a mini version of you?”

“Kinda.”

“Then I’m in.” Barry relaxes his shoulders. “I’d love a little Dex running around the flat.”

“You might be eating your words when he gets here.” I pull him to my side. “I must’ve told you what happened with my old trainer.”

Barry leans into me. “Remind me.”

“We were rough-housing once and I punched him so hard in the stomach that he got sent to the hospital.”

“Wow, that’ll teach me not to piss you off.”

“It was an accident, of course.”

“Still!”

I smirk and pat his stomach. “Don’t worry, I like your belly too much to punch it.”

He giggles, not a nervous one this time, and warmth rushes through me. It makes me realise how much I’ve missed him today. I bet he’s needed this after his soul-sucking job too.

“So, what now?” I ask.

“Dinner would be good.” Barry groans. “Argh, I forgot to pop to the shops today. I’ll see what we have in the fridge if that’s fine, unless you want me to go into town right now.”

I suppress a sigh. Some milk would’ve been nice for a morning coffee tomorrow, but as far as Barry’s cooking goes, he could make wilted salad leaves taste like fine dining.

“That’s fine. Just pick some stuff up before Dex gets here.”

“What about tonight?”

I shrug. “I’ve got no reason to doubt your cooking skills.”

“I could do a curry.”

“Awesome, I could definitely murder a curry.”

“Okay!” Barry kisses my hand. “I’ll get started, then.”

I watch the rest of my show as Barry whips something up. His curry’s bulked up with beef and leftover Pumkin chunks. I’m so lucky to share this with Barry. Hell, I’m lucky to share a lot of things with him, from the shows I like watching to those games of his I try to pick up, even if I’ve snapped more controllers than I can count.

As night creeps in and we settle down, I look at Barry, wrapped up in my arms, snoozing like a Snorlax. He’s asleep before I am since it takes a while for me to calm down from the day. It doesn’t help that I’ve got a lot to think about at the moment.

No matter how many times we discuss it, prepare for it, the reality is that we’re in a human-Pokemon relationship. Everyone with a pulse knows it’s deviant; we know that more than anyone. Despite all that, we’re not going to hide our relationship from the Machop. That wouldn’t be fair to him even if, ideally, it doesn’t change a thing between us. Ultimately, he has to choose whether or not he wants to stay.

It’s a little risky, a bit risky, even. He can’t speak human yet, but word can still get out from Pokémon in other ways. If the daycare finds out about it and reports us, both of our jobs could be in jeopardy.

Barry’s snores stop me in my tracks. That would annoy most people, but I’m not most people. I love his snoring. It shows that Barry’s this real, actual thing that’s lying beside me. He’s the only person on this big blue ball that sees me like I see myself. Not like a Machoke. Like a human.

I want the whole world to know what that feels like. I want Dex to know it too. I think of what our ideal day out would be like, maybe after a long week of tutoring Dex or working together at the Mach n’ Van.

We’d go to the park where Dex’ll be able to fight other Pokemon while me and Barry watch, not doing anything, not even touching shoulders, but just glad to be in the moment. Lunch doesn’t have to be fancy as it could just be a meal deal, but Barry’s dinner would make up for that, whatever he does. We’d either watch a film, play some games, whether that’s on a tabletop or a screen, or even noodle around with Barry’s instruments together.

I have to keep that feeling close to me, no matter what tomorrow brings.

 

[canisaries]

Hi Neb! Here to read and review this, as I wouldn't miss a new Nebfic for the world. The first chapter's all that's out so far, so that's what I looked at.

I’m on my tenth Sandy Numel today.

Ah, first person, that surprised me. So used to third person from you. This isn't any kind of criticism (would be very stupid to criticize someone for using a certain person POV in general), just an observation.

I blink and take another drag. I don’t think he realises how much that growth comment hurts, whether he meant it or not. “What’d you need me for anyway?”

ooh he's upset about not being able to evolve I'm guessing?

The moment lasts two seconds before they leave, but their look says everything. They know I’m weak. It doesn’t matter that I’m probably twice as old as them. You don’t get through life as an unevolved Machoke without sensing when someone’s looking down on you.

ding ding ding! interested to see what you'll do with this

I charge into the fray where the middle-aged human with a face the colour of an undercooked Magikarp fillet wags his finger at Rip.

This has the makings of a great line, but there's a bit of a problem - some fish have red and others have white flesh, and Magikarp is a fantasy fish, so it's not entirely obvious which one it would be. I did look up carp flesh, and that seems to be red, but I doubt a lot of people know for certain what real life carp flesh is colored like, either. Or maybe they do - I don't actually know how popular carp fillets are outside my country. On my part, though, had to kind of guess.

Rip throws up his hands as if he’s being mugged by a Scrafty.

wowww glen wowww

It takes a few moments for me to pull myself together and return to the van, and even when I’m behind the wheel, I still feel rattled. I just want to smoke and play some of my tunes, but that’ll piss off the crew even more, so I drive in silence as I try to navigate Circhester’s outskirts.

why in the hell am i thinking of drive (2011) and sigma ryan gosling memes now.

I don’t know how long I get lost in the show for, but the front door opens and I pause the TV. It’s Barry. I don’t even give him a chance to take his coat off before I run up and pull him into a tackle hug.

I press my snout against his neck, nuzzling his skin, savouring his touch. He’s so warm. His tender hands snake along my back as we exchange kisses, nails lightly massaging me through my shirt. I pull back to get a good look at his face. I love everything about it from his mane of hair to his beard, brown with flecks of silver and gold, to that bulbous, pierced nose of his, which makes him look like a prized Tauros. My prized Tauros.

omg they wuv each other 🥺

I peck him back; he tastes like bubblegum, a taste I’ve gotten used to ever since he started vaping.

im actually so cooked like i cannot read the word "vaping" and not laugh after my friend circle has memed the practice to shit

Barry hums in affirmation. “Yeah,”

Missing dialogue tag? Or comma slipped in in place of period?

We’d go to the park where Dex’ll be able to fight other Pokemon while me and Barry watch, not doing anything, not even touching shoulders, but just glad to be in the moment.

they have to hide it in public 😔

---

It's a good first chapter! We're introduced to Glen, his living situation, his colleagues, his boyfriend and his aspirations. I think this chapter also works as a clear introduction to your version of Galar, where Pokémon (at least certain species?) are as intelligent as humans, can learn to speak their language and hold jobs just like humans. It would be very odd for someone to read this and still consider the Pokemon x human angle problematic for any other reason than "I personally don't like it".

Will definitely catch the later chapters when they come! Until then, good luck with writing, and see you around.

 

[NebulaDreams]

Part 2: A Machop Eats A Sandwich​

I sneak in three cigarettes before I reach Fairweather Daycare. The layout’s not too dissimilar from the Mach n’ Van base as there’s a large building overlooking a field where Pokemon can roam, though the daycare part resembles more of a school than a house as it’s all blocky stone and concrete. I can’t see Dex in the scuffle of Pokemon playing in the grass, though from what I’ve gathered, he prefers staying indoors.

I take a deep breath. This day could go many different ways, especially once he meets Barry. Am I ready for this? I don’t even know if I’d be a good replacement dad. My hand reaches for my pocket, and I almost light up when I catch the reflection of the booster seat strapped in the back.

We bought that thing just for today; second-hand, but still, it’s proof we’ve made a commitment. Dex wouldn’t want to be stuck in my car all day with smoke clinging everywhere. So I think of our future day out again as I stuff the pack of Numels in the glovebox, and head out.

I’m still surprised by how colourful the daycare’s insides are. The walls are candy-coloured slabs of red and blue, where murals of big, four-legged Pokemon chase each other along the plaster. I’d be fooled into thinking this was a play park for humans if it wasn’t for the humanoid Pokemon wrestling each other in an area covered with padded mats.

“You hit like a girl,” a Tyrogue yells while he’s hanging upside down.

“I am a girl, moron!” a Pancham yells back as she’s about to suplex the kid.

The rest don’t stop them, in fact, they’re egging them on. There’s no sign of Dex anywhere.

My pocket’s screaming for attention. I shouldn’t feel uncomfortable here already. This is normal. This is what fighting types do. They fight. We did this for fun back home. But even some run of the mill rough-housing feels so alien to me now.

I don’t have long to dwell on it as the Tyrogue’s feet slip from the Pancham’s grasp, and his head thunks against the floor.

I wince. That foam sure didn’t protect him from the fall. Blimey, the Tyrogue’s in tears now, and so’s the Pancham. The human caretaker, Maisie, pops out of the other room with an Arcanine following after her. She’s about to dash into the scuffle when she spots me.

“Shoot,” she mutters. “S’more, could you deal with this, please?”

The Arcanine rolls his eyes and breaks up the group of Pokemon. Maisie approaches me with an outstretched hand.

“Hey, Glen!” Maisie greets, smiling even with puffy eyes, “you chose a good time to stop by.”

I stare down for a moment. I’m always wary whenever I go for a handshake, since some humans aren’t aware of my strength, but I’ve done this enough times to handle a simple greeting.

“Don’t sweat it.” I extend mine to her, but I let her shake it. “I bet this is what you have to deal with on a daily basis anyway.”

“Yeah. It’s never a dull day for us.” She laughs, though it’s a little strained. “Are you just here to take Dex?”

“Uh huh.”

“Then follow me to the gym.”

She walks me through the daycare to a lounge area where two Pokemon, a Hitmontop and Gothita, playing a fighting game on a TV. I recognise the characters: one’s a half-human, half-Purrloin, the other’s a bipedal Luxray, both throwing special moves at each other.

“They’re still making PokeMorphs games?” I ask.

“Huh? Oh, that. I guess so!”

She lets out another strained laugh. Figures she wouldn’t know what I’m talking about. Maybe Barry’s nerdiness is rubbing off on me.

Next, we tiptoe through a soft room where Pokémon sleep on beanbags and cushions. The ones that are just chilling throw me a few odd looks. I’m used to it, especially going around in my clothes.

Maisie leads me outside the exercise room, but stops just before we turn the corner.

“So, Glen, are you ready for Dex’s big day out?”

“Of course.”

“Good, he’s been looking forward to seeing you.” Her cheery expression fades as she looks me up and down.

“Something the matter?”

“No, no, it’s–” she sighs. “Never mind. I know he’s in good hands. Just wish there was more I could do to help.”

A daycare’s a stopgap for trainers to drop off their Pokémon, not a home. That’s the whole reason I’m here. Before I can think of some way to reassure her, that Arcanine rushes in, his coat all unkempt.

“First aid!” he says in his own tongue. From the drop in Maisie’s posture, she knows exactly what he meant.

“Nuts,” she says. “Glen, go in there without me.”

Maisie rushes off, leaving me with my own thoughts.

This daycare isn’t a terrible place for Pokemon, but Dex probably doesn’t know anybody here since daycare Pokemon don’t linger for long, except the rentals. If Dex runs out of options, then he’ll probably need to become a rental Pokemon too.

The world doesn’t make it easy for Pokemon to live without a trainer. It took me ages to find my place in it, and I had to figure out what that was on my own. I’m not gonna put Dex through what I went through.

There’s all sorts of equipment dotted around the gym’s floor: punching bags, weights, even a couple of treadmills, and Dex is pounding a training dummy right in the middle of the room. He doesn’t notice me as I step inside, though I’m just curious to watch his moves. I don’t know what that dummy did to hurt him but the little Machop’s just whaling on it. He only stops when the dummy falls flat on its back, thudding against the linoleum, and Dex has to take a few deep breaths, buckling to his knees.

I wait for him to catch his breath, but he keeps panting, past the point that I can chalk it up to tiring himself out.

“Hey,” I call, stepping in.

Dex turns. His eyes look redder than a Machop’s usually should. Words fail me, so I sit with him, giving Dex as long as he needs to get back up to speed. Work can wait.

He falls back to steady breaths and stands back up, at eye level with me. He seems calm, though his body’s still tense, like whatever’s bothering him has its claws hooked deep into his spine. Then he bounces on his feet, raising his fists.

I back away, worried he’s about to give me a knuckle sandwich until he flashes a smile, still in his battle stance. Maybe the kid just wants to playfight. I know Dex’ll feel better for it, even if I’m not rushing to school a Machop, so I hold my hands out like a boxing coach. Dex responds with one punch, then a one-two punch. One, one-two, one, one-two. Then he stops and nurses his hands.

“I was tryin’ to say hi,” he finally says.

Now I get it. That’s the greeting we used in our dwelling: one punch was what they used to start a conversation, and a one-two punch meant ‘hello’. It’s a way for us fighting types to talk without words, something I forgot long ago.

“Sh–” I trail off–“oot. Sorry, kid.”

“It’s okay.” Dex glares outside the gym. “Nobody here knows anyway.”

“But I can learn. Or relearn.” I shrug. “So how’s it going?”

“Okay, I guess. Just bored. I don’t like it here.”

“They’re treating you alright?”

“Yeah, but… I dunno. Everyone’s so loud here.”

“Well, we’ve got a full day today.” I offer a hand. “We’ll start out at the Mach n’Van, and you can see what it’s like working there. You’ll see plenty of Circhester in between.” I pause, figuring out how to introduce him to Barry. “Then we’ll have dinner at my place. Anything you fancy?”

Dex’s eyes gleam. “Anythin’?”

“Yeah. I dunno, did they do any cooking in your dwelling?”

He glares at me. “How else would we eat stuff?”

Another faux pas. Man, I am out of my depth here.

“Bunnelby stew,” Dex continues. “My… parents hunted them. They hunted a lot. But Bunnelby stew’s my favourite. With onions. Master Pillar grew a lot of vegetables.”

The pained look on his face twists my stomach. He’s already told me about his parents, who died on a big hunt, quite carelessly from the sounds of it as they liked to throw themselves into danger. Typical fighting types. It’s beyond me who Master Pillar is, but that’s a good conversation to have later.

“We can do Bunnelby stew. With onions.”

Dex stares at my hand a moment longer, and finally shakes it before following me out of the daycare. He doesn’t say bye to anyone on the way, and Maisie only gives a thumbs up as she’s applying a potion on a bruised Pokemon, so I take Dex straight to the car. I sit in the front seat, but Dex doesn’t follow. What’s he doing out there? I open the side he’s supposed to enter.

“I’ve never been in a car before,” he says.

Right. I shouldn’t have taken that for granted.

“Just climb up to the booster seat and I’ll strap you in.”

Dex takes to it well enough, and I lean from the front to fasten his seatbelt. He paws at the leather strap.

“This feels weird,” he says.

“It’ll feel weird, yeah, but it’s for your own safety. You’ll go flying out the window otherwise.”

Dex tries to make himself comfortable as I start the drive. I don’t think Dex is quite ready for my music, so I stick the radio on. Not that Dex is paying much attention to the cheesy pop song on there since he’s gazing out the window. Don’t tell me you’re bored already, kid.

“How’d you get a car?” Dex says, eyes fixed on the farmland that whizzes past our view. “Aren’t those for humans?”

That sort of question would piss me off coming from a human, but of course a Machop like him would be curious. “Well, I learned to drive a while ago, just for work, then I earned enough to buy this beaut.” I pat the wheel with pride.

“But how? I didn’t know we could do that.”

“A human taught me.”

That satisfies Dex for now. Good. I don’t fancy reliving that chapter of my life, though it wasn’t all bad. Maybe I owe Terry a text; he’d like to see how far I’ve come.

“Why would I wanna learn how to drive?”



I hum in reply. I never stopped to think about it too deeply; it’s just second nature to me. I take in the scenery before me. The air from the parted window gently blows across my face. The road opens up to a far-away view of Circhester’s sandstone buildings, and clouds of many different shades of grey line the sky.

“I didn’t have much choice at the time, but I got a real taste for it. I travelled all through Galar, saw things that would make you weep, listened to a lot of good music, stopped at some really good eateries on the way too.”

I think about all the humans I hooked up with on the way, but Dex doesn’t need to know that, and it’s ancient history now. What happens on the road stays on the road.

“More than that, though,” I continue, “I felt free.”

“Free?”

“Yeah. You could wait for flying taxis or trains to herd you around, but going places on your own is a whole different beast.”

Dex pauses, taking his sight away from the window.

“Do I have to learn to drive too if I wanna stay with you?”

“Don’t be daft.” I sigh. The kid doesn’t even realise how much freedom he has as a Pokémon. All he’s known is the path laid out for him by his parents and trainers, just like I used to. “That’s the point, you can choose what you want to do. It’s your life.”

“My life.” Dex turns to the window again. We’re stuck in traffic since we’ve reached central Circhester again. I’m definitely late. Oh well, might as well soak in the scenery.

On the main street, that Toxtricity busker noodles on a guitar plugged into his chest with crocodile clips. He gets lots of weird stares from humans, not that the busker usually picks a great time to practise his riffs, but Dex leans against the window, smearing his hands against the glass.

“Woah!” Dex’s eyes gleam. This is the first time he's brightened up like this. “He’s good!”

“You like that?”

“Yeah! It’s kind of like what Master Pillar plays, but weirder and cooler!”

“And this Master Pillar is?”

“She’s a Conkeldurr. Master Pillar makes guitars and stuff.”

“So music runs in the dwelling?”

“Not really, just her. But she plays all these old tunes. I like it but I wish it was more like this.” He smiles at me. “Can it go any louder?”

I roll Dex’s window down so he can better hear the busker. The way he bobs his head to the Toxtricity’s strumming reminds me of being in the mosh pit. I have a good feeling I’ll love Dex.

As we drive, Dex regales me with tales back home of Master Pillar. She showed the kid how to make a guitar from pieces of driftwood and Spinarak silk, and temporarily took care of Dex when his folks passed away, just before he got sent off for his rite of passage as a Machop. I think Barry would be glad to hear Dex is a dab hand at instruments too.

I take extra care up the slope leading up to the base. I wouldn’t usually think about the ‘Stantler X’ing’ signs on each side of the road, but since Dex is with me, I’m on extra alert. Damn feral Pokemon. Fortunately, the home stretch passes with ease. As I pull into the driveway, the eyes of the whole Mach n’ Van team burn into me through the window.

“They look mad,” Dex says.

“Because I’m late.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“Don’t sweat it. Besides, they’ll change their tune when they see you.”

I get out of the car and face the music.

“This anklebiter better be worth holding us up,” Hammer grumbles.

“He will be.” I undo Dex’s seatbelt, setting him loose. He stares at the team, and they stare back with varying degrees of curiosity.

“Hey, lil fella,” Hammer says, waving all four hands. He gets down on his knees and holds out his fists, which Dex pounds, one, one-two. Their conversation gets lost in the flurry of punches, but by the end of their ‘chat’, both Hammer and Dex are full of smiles.

I should be thanking Hammer for handling that well, but something about that exchange touches a nerve. What does he know that I don’t? I try to park that as best as I can.

“What’s your name?” Hammer asks.

“Dex. We say it like–” Dex bats Hammer’s side with the flat of his right hand. That, I recognise: useful, handy, dexterous. Hammer repeats the same gesture.

“Dex, I’ll try not to work you to the bone today, but we’ve got a couple of places to move stuff to.” He gestures to the rest of the crew. “You won’t be alone, though. I bet Glen’ll help you out too.”

Hammer throws me a particularly smug look. It would get on my nerves any other day, but I need to act like a good role model for Dex.

“Sure, I’ll help.”

“Good. Now can we move it before we get our butts kicked for being late?”

I can’t agree more. Everyone gathers inside the van and I bring the booster seat so Dex can sit in the back with the rest of the crew. It’s only fair to him so he has company, and it doesn’t turn too many heads, though Hammer gives me another one of his funny looks like he’s trying to find out all my secrets.

It’s hard to contribute to the crew’s conversation while I’m driving, but it all sounds cordial enough. I hear slithers of questions directed towards Dex and where he came from, and Dex asks questions of his own. Rip talks Dex’s ears off about his fledgling boxing career, and one Machoke who’s just visiting for the week tells him that he’s working at the Mach n’ Van while his trainer’s seeing his family. From Dex’s low tone, it hits a little close to home, but Hammer changes the subject and asks if Dex has anything else planned with me today.

“He says we’ll have Bunnelby stew at his place.”

“Sounds good!” Hammer says. “I do a mean stew myself, though stir fries are my favourite. Have you ever had noodles before?”

“What are noodles?”

“They’re made of wheat, kind of like pasta. They’re pretty popular in Kanto, and you can cook ‘em in all sorts of sauces.”

“Sounds cool.”

“They are! Heck, I could do it sometime if you wanted.”



They’re getting along just fine. I dare say, Hammer’s more of a dad than me, which isn’t great news. It’s a good thing we’re just about to stop at our first pickup so they don’t get too chummy yet.

“We’re almost here,” I say. “Get ready, all of you.”

We stop outside a block of flats situated just outside the city centre. Thankfully it’s a ground floor flat, and it’s already nicer than mine by virtue of having a garden, though the grass is all overgrown. It’s a lot roomier as well if the size of the window is any indication. I buzz the doorbell and wait for our client to come out, but nobody answers. I press it a few more times. Still no dice.

“For fu–” I stop as soon as I remember Dex is behind me. I don’t think his innocent Pokemon ears can comprehend swears yet, let alone the human language. Whatever, I’ll just ring whoever we’re supposed to be moving stuff for.

“Mmm?” a Pokemon’s voice bellows.

“It’s the Mach n’ Van service. We’ve been outside for, like, five minutes.”

Stomps resound from inside the flat, and the front door swings open to reveal a headphone-wearing Snorlax that takes up the whole freaking door frame. She’s wearing a crumb-encrusted Pokemon Unite shirt, probably owed to the massive Pokemunch crisp packet stuck to her paw. I don’t know what the phone’s doing in her other claw.

“Hey.” She yawns. “You were late, so I just took a nap.”

“Sorry about that.” I can’t blame her for being, well, a Snorlax. “Is everything sorted?”

“Yeah. A human cleaner came by earlier.”

I’d like to ask if she owns the place, and how she can afford it on top of a cleaner as a Pokemon. Quite frankly, I’m jealous as hell, but I’ve worked this job long enough to not let that consume me. “Thank you, we’ll take care of it from here.”

“Cool. Do you mind if I stream this?”

Oh, now it makes sense. I turn to the rest of our crew. Save for Dex, who probably thinks she’s talking about a narrow river, everyone else shrugs. “Go for it.”

She turns around and waddles indoors. “Wow, chat’s really popping off right now. Oh, someone donated. Thanks. You get one gold star. Someone’s asking…”

Her voice trails off as she disappears into her flat. We follow in after her and split the work into teams. Me and Dex handle the bedroom’s boxes, mostly lamps, a Tangela-looking monstrosity of bunched-up wires, plushies and all sorts of nerdy paraphernalia.

“Do I just pick up one of these?”

He goes for the box containing a beefy tower of a desktop computer. He has a difficult time lifting it, not that I can blame him as it’s half his size.

“It’s not too heavy, is it?” I ask.

“No. I can’t grip it. Sorry, it’s–”

I step in before the kid panics, and kneel down to take the burden off his hands. “You just have to grab both corners and keep it tucked to your chest. Don’t use too much of your back or you’ll strain it. Got it?”

He manages this time, though he can just barely see as the box almost covers his face. “Now what?”

“Follow me.”

I take my time, lifting another box to demonstrate. I’m worried he’ll trip and fall, but he follows my lead, and moves his first box from the flat into the van.

“Did I do good?” he asks.

“Yeah.” I don’t let him bask in his own glory too much as there’s more work to do. “One down, plenty more to go.”

The job goes smoothly with him around. Dex is the type of Machop I like working with. He keeps his head down, does his job, and asks the right questions, unlike some Machoke who’ve shadowed me before, either whining about too much work or wasting my time with inane bullshit like whichever team’s winning the Galar League Championships.

The work for the next couple of hours goes smoothly. We don’t make too much small talk with our client once we finish the job, as the Snorlax is content to take a nap in her new, nicer apartment in the city centre. It works well for us since it’s lunchtime, and the nearest Gremms isn’t too far from here so I don’t even have to move the van.

“How’d you feel about that, Dex?” I ask as we walk through Circhester’s streets. “Hopefully it wasn’t too boring picking up those boxes.”

“I like it,” Dex chirps. “It’s not like fightin’, but it’s nice. And I’m helpin’ too.”

“Some real weird client, though,” Hammer says. “I asked her what she does and she told me she films herself sleeping, eating, or playing those computer games. I’d love to get paid to do that.”

“What, and laze around all day?” Rip grumbles. “That sounds lame.”

“She was talkin’ to herself a lot,” Dex says. “And what’s she eatin’?”

“They’re dried potato snacks,” I reply. “You’ll get to try them some day. We’re heading somewhere you can get them right now.”

We enter the automatic doors to the takeaway food kiosk. To me and the rest of the crew, it’s cheap food that fills our guts. Dex, however, seems awestruck with how much choice there is since he’s standing in the middle of the queue without realising it. I gently move him to the sandwich aisle.

“So humans just come here and get ‘em?” he asks.

“And some Pokemon.” Aside from our crew who takes their time picking what they want, there’s a suited-up Inteleon with a briefcase who walks out the door with a takeaway coffee. “Though we still have to pay for them.”

“I know that.” He looks at all the shelves chock full of pasties and pastries. “But this is so much stuff. This could feed everyone back home.”

He’s got a point; add that to the list of things I take for granted. “None of it gets wasted. Now what do you want? My treat for your hard work.”

“Really?” He perks back up. “Um, I dunno, you pick!”

He trusts me. I give him the lot: a BLT, an oran smoothie and even throw in a leppa-flavoured Wyndon bun. As we eat in a small park outside, I watch Dex tear into his sandwich. I don’t expect him to be blown away by it, but his eyes glisten with each bite he takes, doubly so as he demolishes his dessert.

“Not too bad, huh?” I say, in between bites of my coronation sandwich.

“Mine didn’t come with a fork,” Rip says, staring at his pasta.

“Don’t you eat with your hands?” Dex asks.

“After they’ve touched that Snorlax’s grubby settee? No way.”

“Your fork’sth in the packathing,” Hammer says in the middle of chewing his Turffish pasty. He’s got such an annoying habit of talking with his mouth full.

“Right, boss. Swear I was going nuts.”

“They don’t make it easy to find, though,” I say.

“No kidding. Say, Dex, want some?”

“Sure!”

Dex eagerly takes a bite of Rip’s pine nut pasta. Group lunches aren’t uncommon for us, but I usually eat in silence or use our time off as an excuse to go for a smoke. Somehow, with Dex around, I feel at ease eating with the crew. It doesn’t hurt that the sun’s come out now and this park’s not too shabby with a nice view of the water fountain in the centre.

When was the last time me and Barry just took a stroll around this area? Not since before his promotion. And there’s a guy walking past that looks suspiciously like…

Shit, it’s Barry. He takes out his headphones, but doesn’t wave at me. He just stares.

I want to come up and hug him. I want him to tell me about his work day so far and share lunch with me since I know he’s on his break. I want to treat him to a coffee to help him get through his shitty job. But I can’t. Not in front of my team.

How do I play it off? Do I just wave at him and pretend he’s a friend? That would be a lie. But this whole relationship we have is built around lying to everyone. I’ll do it. I’m raising my hand.

“Look at that weirdo staring at us,” Hammer snarls.

“Shut the hell up, Hammer,” I snap.

That turns everyone’s heads. Shit, I shouldn’t have said that. Now everyone’s looking at me like I’m the weirdo. Even Dex. Seeing him confused and afraid at something I’ve said makes my heart drop down to my stomach.

“I, I mean–” I stammer, trying to salvage my outburst somehow–”shut up, Hammer. Maybe that weirdo won’t notice us if we don’t say anything. That’s what I meant.”

It’s a shit excuse, but that doesn’t matter as Barry’s disappeared, probably gone back to work. I really hope he didn’t see me acting out like that, but now he’s gone, our team should be the way it was before, right?

“Yeah.” Hammer’s smile doesn’t entirely reach his eyes. “You’re right. Good thinking, Glen.”

The rest of our lunch passes in silence. I try to chalk it up to soaking in the park’s serenity, but the quiet continues in the van on the way to our next pickup. Not even the radio can fill it.

I know I screwed up. The crew knows it. Dex knows it too since he’s not his usual, curious self. Never before have I so badly craved a cigarette. It’s the longest I’ve been without one in a while, just a few hours. But the pack’s back in my own car. I can’t just stop at the nearest shop and get some more as a Pokemon.

My clammy hands slip on the leather wheel. I’m such an idiot. There were so many other ways that could’ve played out. I should’ve known he’d cross by that park at noon. I should’ve just said ‘hi’, or not acknowledged him at all, or at the very least not swear at Hammer.

I take deep breaths, one two, one two. It’s okay. The moment will pass when we start our next job. The crew will forget once they start packing boxes, I’ll bury my frustration in my work as I always do, I’ll say sorry, then we can put it behind us.

It’s not long before we reach the other pickup: a semi-detached house in one of the central neighbourhoods. The family that greets us, the dad, mum and their two sons, look like they’re ripped from a postcard, all full of smiles. Even their Boltund’s a ray of goddamn sunshine, sitting on his hindquarters while he lolls his tongue.

“Hey, nice to finally meet you!” the woman greets. “I’ve heard so many good things about Mach n’ Van!”

“Good. We won’t disappoint, ma’am.” From her vice-like grip to her smart-casual clothes, I feel like she’s about to sell us her own house. “Is everything ready?”

“Have you two packed all your toys?” she asks her pre-teen kids who nod in unison. Has she brainwashed the little runts or something?

“Crap,” her husband pipes up, dressed in a Circhester Football Club jersey, “I left my phone on charge in the house.”

“Harold, go get it before we leave it behind,” the woman commands.

“Yes, ma’am!” He rushes back in. That’s another minute or two before we can get a move on. The Boltund approaches Dex. Dex recoils as if he’s preparing for a fight. I’d do the same if a freaking thunderbolt-flinging hound sized me up.

“Yes, yes, Machop!” he greets, extending his paw. “Give my ears a good scritch!”

Dex cautiously brings his hand up to the Boltund’s head, and chuckles as the Boltund grunts under his grasp. I kneel down and scritch his other ear, hoping it scores some Dad points in Dex’s eyes. The fur feels what I’d imagine TV static to feel like. Dex glances at me briefly, and smiles before he turns his attention back to the loyal little doggy.

We don’t have too long before the dad comes out and we can start doing our job. The crew don’t even look at me as they enter the house. I turn to Dex, who stops stroking the Boltund to massage his hand.

“You can join them if you want,” I say. “I can handle the other boxes myself.”

“It’s okay,” Dex says. “I’ll help you.”

So I haven’t pissed him off yet. Good. We start with the kids’ bedroom, clearing out boxes of plushie Pokemon and clothes.

“Don’t you like Hammer?” Dex asks.

I freeze, almost dropping the two boxes I’m carrying. “It’s not that.”

“Then why’d you shout at him?”

I take a deep breath and set the boxes aside.

“Look. It’s complicated. Me and Hammer have been working together for a while, and sometimes he gets on my nerves. I’m sure you have people like that in your life.”

“Maybe.” Dex puts his box aside too and rubs his shoulder. “But he wasn’t doing anythin’ wrong. That human was weird.”

I’m not going to be short with Dex, as annoyed as I am by the whole situation. “Alright, this will all make sense later. Can you trust me on this?”

Dex stares at a white patch on the wall where a poster used to be. The crew’s footsteps echo from downstairs.

“Something you need to understand is that me and Hammer aren’t friends. We work together, but we don’t really know each other, and I like to keep my life separate from his. You’ll understand when you work long enough.”

“We don’t really know each other.”

The kid’s too sharp for his own good. “Well, I wanna know more about you, Dex. And I want to share my life with you.” I smile. “You know that music the Toxtricity was playing? I listen to that sort of stuff all the time. I see whole bands like that too.”

Dex tilts his head at me. “Really?”

“Yeah. I hope you can join me for a gig some time. There’s so much I wanna show you too.”

I know I shouldn’t do this but I rummage through the boxes and find a plushie of a caped Greninja.

“That’s a Pokemon,” Dex states.

“That’s not just any Pokemon, that’s Long Legged Larry, the Greninja.” I give another forced smile. “He’s a superhero that fights crime. They’ve made all sorts of shows and movies about him.”

“What’s crime?”

I have a lot to teach this kid, not that I hope he ever comes across someone robbing a bank or worse. “Bad people doing bad things.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh. But it’s fun to see him getting justice too.” I fling the plushie up in the air and catch it. “And jumping over skyscrapers; really tall buildings.”

I thought Dex would want to play with him, but he just stares at his feet.

“There’s so much here. It’s so confusin’.”

“You’ll get the hang of it.” I shove Larry back in the box. “Now c’mon, we need to get a move on before the rest think we’re slacking. Okay?”

Dex picks up the box in front of him and nods. I don’t know if he feels any better by the end of our talk, but he loses himself in the work, and soon enough, we both fill the van. The family tails us to their new house in their own car, which looks identical to the one they just moved out from, except it’s in a suburban area further from the city. I can’t say it’s an upgrade since there isn’t much here except rows upon rows of houses painted a blinding white, but again, I keep my judgments to myself.

As we unload the boxes, all the carrying and bending over I’ve done in the day catches up with me, to the point Dex outpaces me. This time, I don’t feel so guilty about taking a breather by the van. On instinct, I bring out my phone to the tune of four text messages from Barry.

B: ‘How’s it going with Dex? I wanted to call you to see how you were getting on but figured you were busy.’ - 10:09AM

I like how he types everything like he probably does at work, all spell-checked and clear to read. No annoying text-speak.

B: ‘Fuck my boss, seriously. He didn’t end up using the printouts and blamed me for wasting our charity budget.’ - 11:15AM

He also sent a gif of a Pangoro snapping an office keyboard in half. It still surprises me how blunt he is behind a screen.

B: ‘I’m on my break now. What did you want me to do for dinner? Looking forward to meeting Dex.’ - 12:32AM

Crap, I forgot to get back to him. I’m about to type what Dex wants when I see the last message.

B: ‘Sorry I ran off, I was a bit blindsided. I didn’t expect to see you at the park with your work buddies, and with Dex too. It was nice to see you earlier, but maybe warn me next time you’re in our spot.’ - 12:56PM

All the air goes out of me, like I’ve just been pricked with a pin. I know why he said it. I should’ve gone to literally any other place outside of our usual meeting spot. We hold both our livelihoods in our hands every time we show any sort of affection in public.

I think of all the other close calls we’ve had. Me and Barry have kissed in the toilets at The Cave with humans outside the cubicles. Countless times, we’ve had to stop ourselves from holding hands. Even when we’re talking sometimes, whether it’s in a cafe or in a park, he checks over his shoulder or keeps his distance, always a reminder that someone could be watching.

It was exciting at first, to feel like we’re thieves about to be caught. Now, though?

My thumb hovers over the keyboard for ages until Hammer, yet again, slaps my back.

“I thought you were helping,” he says. “Guess you’ve hit your limit.”

I try to collect myself. Put those thoughts in a box, like I always have. But I just stare at Hammer, who in turn narrows his eyes.

“You still having problems with your place? That’d explain why you’re acting so weird lately; landlords sound like pure evil.”

He still doesn’t know I’ve moved in with Barry. I’ll just settle for the lie as usual.

“Yeah,” I say at last. “They’ve still not fixed half the stuff there.”

“Ah. I hope you get it sorted.”

I stare at my boots, which shuffle against gravel. What I would give for a Sandy Numel right now.

“I’m just taking a stab in the dark here,” he continues. “You and that anklebiter seem awful close. You say he’s lost his parents. So… what’s going on?”

That gets my attention. I want to tell him the truth, just so I can get him off my back, but the words don’t come out. The thought of telling anyone is still so petrifying. All I can settle for is a half-truth.

“I want him to live with me,” I say. “I want to raise him as my own.”

Hammer whistles. “That’s… surprising. Never pegged you as the dad type.”

“Meaning what?”

“You’re usually… you know, a bit of a sourpuss.”

“Well screw you too.”

“You don’t mince words, do you? But I see you lighten up a lil’ around him. That’s a good thing.”

I snort. “Thanks, I guess.”

“But…” His tone drops. “Glen. I know you don’t want to hear it, but your crummy flat, as you once put it, ain’t a good place for him. He’s gonna be miserable cooped up there, especially if that human’s being a pain in the rear.”

He talks as if he knows anything about my life, or Dex’s. All I can give is a grunt in reply.

“He can stay at our house until you get your place sorted or move somewhere else. But it’s gonna be tough. Tough for you, and tough for him, especially in the city. It just ain’t made for beasts like us.”

“I know.” That’s all I’ll say.

“Alright.” Hammer pats my shoulder and keeps it there. He tries to look at me, though I try to turn away. I can see myself reflected in his eyes and I hate how pathetic I must look. “Just ask yourself if it’s something you both want. Take it easy, Mister Puff Puff.”

Hammer finally gets back to his work. I don’t. I stay with my back against the van. Dex is rushing to move the boxes into the house. Rip matches his pace. It seems like they’re in a race to pack stuff away the quickest, judging by the smiles on their faces.

Meanwhile, the family carefully plays football on one side of the garden. The parents cheer their kids on as they act as the goalies on opposite teams. Both sons tackle each other as two Machoke would tackle each other in a fight. All in good fun. The eldest shoots, scores, and the parents pull him into a tackle hug, not caring that the grass is staining their clothes and the Boltund’s licking their faces.

Again, I try to think of the good times me, Dex, and Barry will spend together. But neither the Mach n’ Van crew nor the human family has anything to hide. Me and Barry do.

What’s the worst that could happen with us together? Dex would be taken away. Both our jobs would be ruined. Not only that, Barry would probably be thrown in jail. I’d just be tossed aside as the victim, as if I had no say in the matter, and find another job somewhere else to start on a clean slate. But the best?

All I can see is that Dex will live his whole life keeping up a lie that we’ve forced upon him.

I retreat back into the front seat of the van, just staring out of the window that gives way to the rest of the suburbs, all human-owned, all middle class. Deep breaths, one two. Deep breaths, one two three four. It doesn’t work. I claw at my pockets. There’s nothing there. No release from this. Nothing to guard me from myself.

I want Dex to live a normal life, not like I did. But nothing about me and Barry is normal. Even Dex’s good memories would all be tainted by our lie, like the specks of mold in our cozy little flat.

There’s no way this is going to work. Not when Barry doesn’t want us to be seen. Not when Dex needs other kids, Pokemon, hell, anyone else to play with that isn’t us. The only right decision I can make, for Barry’s sake, for Dex’s sake, is to call it off.

I stay there until the crew trickles in, one by one. I see Dex in the rear-view mirror; he’s looking into it too. Looking at me, I imagine. Can he tell what I’m thinking?

“Uh, can we go home already?” Rip asks. “I wanna practise my right hook.”

Right. This is my job. I can do that. I start the van and drive out of these depressing suburbs. To think it’s evening already. The clouds have cleared up, giving way to an orange, pink sky. It does nothing to clear my mood. The rest of the drive goes by in a daze, and so does the chatter behind me, something about how excitable the Boltund was. Dex joins in too and laughs at one of Hammer’s lame dad jokes. He enjoys being around them.

That’s it. He’ll have a much better shot at the Mach n’ Van. I’ll give him that offer, at least. That way, I can still see him. My plan becomes clearer the closer we head to the house.

My phone rings. I know it’s Barry from the custom ringtone that plays: a riff from Groudon’s Blood by Thousands of Dead Legendaries. I can’t talk to him in front of my crew, so I let it die out.

“What the heck was that noise?” Rip asks.

“Glen’s phone,” Hammer says on my behalf. “It plays all sorts of weird stuff.”

“It sounds cool!” Dex chimes in.

Something wet pricks behind my eyeballs, but I blink it away, like I’ve always done. I’m so sorry, kid.

We finally make it back to the home base. Most of the crew sprint into the fields, as they usually do. Only Hammer and Dex are left.

I take a deep breath. I know this’ll suck. But this has to be done.

“Hey, Dex.” I wipe away whatever’s left of my tears and smile at Dex, whose feet sway from the booster seat. “How’d you find today?”

“It was cool! You get to do this every day?”

“Yeah. We go to all sorts of places.” I hum. “Say, what do you want to do now?”

“Bunnelby stew?”

I sigh. I know Dex will feel somewhat betrayed.

“Hammer’s a good cook, isn’t he?”

“Yeah,” Hammer chimes in. “Actually, we should have enough stuff for stew. Not sure I have Bunnelby, though.”

Dex looks at Hammer, then back to me. His feet stop kicking. “I thought we were gonna go to yours.”

“I know.” There’s still an opportunity to change my mind. But I can’t hedge this. That would just give him false hope. I’ve given enough of it already. “Listen, kid, plans have changed. I’m not sure it would be good for you to stay around mine. I think the Mach n’ Van will be better for you. You enjoy it here, right?”

Dex looks over at the other Machoke roughhousing in the garden. “I do.”

“Then I’m sure Hammer will have a spot for you.”

“Of course.” Hammer hums. “Dex has been a great help today.”

“And I’ll still come and see you. I just–” I falter, trying to think of what to say next. It all sounds like an excuse when it’s not. “You’re great, kid. I want to see you happy. I think this will be a good next step for you. And if you get sick of it, we can find something else for you to do. How’s that sound?”

Dex looks back at me again. He doesn’t seem lost. He’s taking this rather well, in fact, but it doesn’t make me feel any less guilty.

“Good,” he says. “Can I stay?”

“Room and board,” Hammer says. “You can even help me with the ingredients if you want.”

“Have you got onions?” Dex asks.

“What’s a stew without onions?” Hammer reaches over to pat Dex on the shoulder, like he does with me. “Now, if you wanna join them, I’ll be right there with you.”

Dex nods, then his face drops. He opens his mouth, then closes it and undoes his seatbelt. He runs out and pounces into the fray, like there’s a dual battle going on.

Hammer stays behind. He reaches for my shoulder when I recoil. His back hunches, then he steps out of the van and slams the door shut, joining the rest.

That’s it. I’ve washed my hands of this. Now I just want to go home, away from these other Machoke. I collect my pay and don’t even look back at the rest as I get back into my own car. I check my phone. Of course, it’s Barry. One missed call and one new message:

B: ‘Just finished work, good riddance. I guess you’re still busy, so that’s fine. Let me know what Dex wants when you can. xx.’ - 5:01PM

I never answered his texts about what Dex would like for dinner, not that it matters now. I text ‘dex isnt coming’ and toss the phone onto the dashboard. Right away, I dive for the cigarettes in the glove box and light up.

Sweet release.

 

[canisaries]

I'm baaaaack!

The human caretaker, Maisie, pops out of the other room with an Arcanine following after her.

big dogy...

She walks me through the daycare to a lounge area where two Pokemon, a Hitmontop and Gothita, playing a fighting game on a TV. I recognise the characters: one’s a half-human, half-Purrloin, the other’s a bipedal Luxray, both throwing special moves at each other.

“They’re still making PokeMorphs games?” I ask.

*soyjak point*

This daycare isn’t a terrible place for Pokemon, but Dex probably doesn’t know anybody here since daycare Pokemon don’t linger for long, except the rentals. If Dex runs out of options, then he’ll probably need to become a rental Pokemon too.

The world doesn’t make it easy for Pokemon to live without a trainer. It took me ages to find my place in it, and I had to figure out what that was on my own. I’m not gonna put Dex through what I went through.

Damn, yeah. Since I don't recall there being any Pokémon in schools in your setting (GeL being the exception, but it definitely seemed like an exception), it would be pretty hard for Pokémon to get jobs that require education.

“Why would I wanna learn how to drive?”



I hum in reply.

There seem to be a few extra row changes here. Accidental or intentional?

“She’s a Conkeldurr. Master Pillar makes guitars and stuff.”

maybe they also had a master who was really good at trapping prey using bait, a Master Baiter if you will

I back away, worried he’s about to give me a knuckle sandwich until he flashes a smile, still in his battle stance. Maybe the kid just wants to playfight. I know Dex’ll feel better for it, even if I’m not rushing to school a Machop, so I hold my hands out like a boxing coach. Dex responds with one punch, then a one-two punch. One, one-two, one, one-two. Then he stops and nurses his hands.

“I was tryin’ to say hi,” he finally says.

Now I get it. That’s the greeting we used in our dwelling: one punch was what they used to start a conversation, and a one-two punch meant ‘hello’. It’s a way for us fighting types to talk without words, something I forgot long ago.

This is soooooo cool. I already loved this aspect of I, Isobel and I love that we get to see more of it.

“They are! Heck, I could do it sometime if you wanted.”



They’re getting along just fine.

More row changes here.

Aside from our crew who takes their time picking what they want, there’s a suited-up Inteleon with a briefcase who walks out the door with a takeaway coffee.

holy shit its nolan heartache

“I, I mean–” I stammer, trying to salvage my outburst somehow–”shut up, Hammer. Maybe that weirdo won’t notice us if we don’t say anything. That’s what I meant.”

:'(

It just ain’t made for beasts like us.

HE SAID THE

Thousands of Dead Legendaries

this is that one fic on thousand roads i think

Dex looks at Hammer, then back to me. His feet stop kicking. “I thought we were gonna go to yours.”

“I know.” There’s still an opportunity to change my mind. But I can’t hedge this. That would just give him false hope. I’ve given enough of it already. “Listen, kid, plans have changed. I’m not sure it would be good for you to stay around mine. I think the Mach n’ Van will be better for you. You enjoy it here, right?”

This is reeeaaalllly minor and probably just me, but I didn't realize the "mine" referred to the "yours" and was confused by the sentence until I reread the context. I think it's because the two are so far apart in text even if they make sense as a dialogue exchange. Could be amended with "mine" -> "my place", but not a priority in any sort of way.

I never answered his texts about what Dex would like for dinner, not that it matters now. I text ‘dex isnt coming’ and toss the phone onto the dashboard. Right away, I dive for the cigarettes in the glove box and light up.

:'(

---

Wow, things took a turn! I was fully expecting Glen to take Dex home in this chapter. However, I think Glen's decision makes sense (to himself) - he hadn't actually met Dex before, so now that he did and saw how Dex interacted with the other members of his line vs Glen as well as how he and Barry's relationship would make things difficult for Dex, he saw things from a new perspective. He's also under a lot of stress here, and likely more prone to hasty decisions.

Nothing else comes to mind about the chapter right now, but I definitely wanna see where things go from here. Good luck with writing onward, and see you around!

 

[NebulaDreams]

Author's Note: Things get a little intense here. It's the climax of the fic, after all, with one shorter chapter after this one. This is still a T, but it starts with a pretty intense argument between the main couple, topped with a depiction of a panic attack, so if that hits close to home for people, be warned.

Part 3: A Machoke Crashes Into A Tree​

I burn through my last few cigarettes by the time I drive back to my place. I’ve already thought about what I’m going to say, but I still have to gather myself before I get out of my car to unlock the front door. Right away, I’m hit with a cloud of bubblegum stink.

Barry’s stretched out on the settee, glued to his phone while he puffs on his vape pen. It sounds like he’s watching one of his dumb video essays, something he usually puts on while he’s cooking or playing his games. I so badly want to snuggle up to him, but I can’t. We need to settle what happened in the park.

“Hey,” I say, wiping my boots on the welcome mat.

Barry sighs and puts his phone away, though he doesn’t budge from his position with his feet propped up on the armrest. I’d rehearsed something on the way here, but I’ve forgotten what it is and my body freezes like I’ve been hit with an ice beam.

I know Barry doesn’t deal well with confrontation. He’s always the last person to speak up whenever someone gets his order wrong or cuts in line. If there’s anyone who needs to speak up, it’s me.

“I got your text,” he says, cutting me short.

“Yeah.”

The ticking clock in the kitchen punctuates the silence. Well, colour me surprised.

“I was really looking forward to doing dinner tonight,” he continues. “You never told me what he wanted.”

“Bunnelby stew,” I say, fighting off the tickle in my throat.

“Aw, that’s a shame, it would’ve been nice to have him around.”

He doesn’t know the half of it.

“So, what happened? Did he just decide not to come with you?”

I pop my boots off and plant my socked feet firmly onto the carpet. I can feel myself sinking into it.

“I called it off.”

“What?” Barry sits up and tugs at his beard. “You didn’t ask me first?”

“Nope.”

“Glen,” he chides like I’m some Machop. “I thought we were doing this together.”

“It’s not like I needed permission from you.” The words tumble out like rocks falling off a cliff. I hate the direction this is going, but I can’t stop myself as I take a few steps forward, looking down at Barry. “It was my idea to take him in anyway.”

“So that means I don’t get a say in it?”

“No.” I pinch my snout. “That’s not what I meant. I just…”

Barry stops fiddling with his stubble, which is good, but now he’s fiddling with the seat cushioning instead.

“Look, we both knew it might not’ve worked out. We’re both working full time. He’d either be cooped up in here with us, or we’ll be outside, not even able to act like two normal parents in front of everyone else. We’re basically cut off from everyone else too. Not even your friends or parents know about us together.”

Barry grabs a fistful of settee leather. “I know.”

“See?” I rub the back of my neck. “And things being as they are, y’know, your anxiety–”

“Don’t. My anxiety’s not an excuse for us to dump Dex.”

“Excuse?” I snort. “Just like telling me to ‘warn you’ isn’t an excuse?”

“Shit,” his voice cracks. Barry rubs his face. “I shouldn’t have said that. I just freaked out. I wasn’t expecting to see you then.”

He always says something like that after these close calls.

“I’m so sick of this. We can’t even hold hands in public.”

“How d’you think I feel?”

Barry’s taking deep breaths, one two, one two. Not this again. I should say some words of comfort. After all he’s told me about his family, those shitty high school friends of his who blackmailed him over his interests in Pokemon, and all his relationships that have deteriorated in the past, there’s plenty he needs comforting with. But the words don’t come.

Barry regains his composure a little, and stands up, giving me a stone faced look.

”You know, I texted you all day and you didn’t even talk to me.”

I grunt. “Clingy, much? I don’t have to update you on everything I do.”

“I know, just–” he throws his hands up in the air–”You should’ve told me you were having second thoughts.”

“I was busy, alright?” I pace around the room. “Today was stressful and I was just thinking in the heat of the moment.”

“I get being busy, but we are supposed to communicate when stuff gets tough!” He scratches his mane of hair. “It’s like, we’ve been together all this time and it still feels there’s this… wall between us.”

“And what’s that got to do with what happened today?”

“Everything! You never tell me how work’s going or how you’re feeling. You never look happy and you won’t even say why.”

“Because I’m driving a bunch of stupid fucking Pokemon around all day.” I get all up in his face. “Is that the answer you want?”

He faces me in turn, almost squishing his nose against mine. “Then quit.”

“Oh, like it’s so easy! You actually get to have a career! I just have a day job!”

“There are other options, y’know.”

“Like what, sucking up to a trainer on some stupid trinket quest?”

“No, I mean those PokeJobs coming up. Or a hobby or a course you can pick up. Oh, and those ‘stupid fucking Pokemon’ you talk about make a lot of money just streaming these days too. You were talking about how Dex could do anything he wanted, so why don’t you practise what you preach?”

“It’s too late for me.” I breathe through my nose. “I’m fine just surviving with what I know.”

“But you’re not happy.”

“Yeah, that’s called adulthood.”

“Oh fuck off.” Barry scoffs and walks away, heading towards his room. “You sound just like my dad. Maybe it’s better that Dex didn’t come with you.”

His dad? That deadbeat?

How dare he?

Everything happens so fast. That rush within me. That fighting spirit. I haven’t felt it in so long. Before I know it, my fist hits the wall behind the settee. Oh, shit. There’s a dent in it now. And Barry’s backed himself against the bedroom door, all wide eyed. He starts yanking his beard, then tugging his neck.

“Nnghh… no, no, don’t–” he rapidly breathes. “I’m sorry, I, I, um, ugh–”

He’s lying against the door now, mumbling and hyperventilating. Shit, he’s having one of his panic attacks again. I’m not in the mood for this.

“Barry,” I huff in between breaths, “stop this. You’re making a fool of yourself.”

He doesn’t stop. He keeps going, grabbing fistfuls of his hair and manages to rip out a whole clump of it like he’s tearing paper.

“Barry...” I groan. “Barry, please.” It takes a few deep breaths before it hits me: I did this to him. My Barry.

Whatever monster made me punch the wall ebbs out of me. My face feels hot. I’m crying, weeping. All the things I’ve tried to express to him, everything I’ve held in all this time, just melts out of my eyes and I join Barry on the floor, hugging him and kissing him and sobbing into his chest. I don’t want him to leave me. He’s too important to me. I’ve got nothing else, not even Dex now.

“I’m sorry,” I choke out in between sobs. “I’m sorry, Barry. Stay with me, please.”

I just want him to be okay. To not feel like he feels. I try to ground him however I can, rubbing his back and talking to him, and he eases into it until his breathing slows, then it's his turn to cry into my chest. We just stay like that, arms wrapped around each other, not caring about what he said or what I said. I don’t even know how long we stay there for, just that it’s gotten darker by the time we both calm down.

“Sorry,” Barry says in between breaths. “I didn’t mean that. About Dex.”

Neither of us meant it. I tell myself that even as my hand’s still covered with wall dust and bruises.

“It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not.” He sniffles. “I know how much you wanted to take him in. It’s not fair for you to keep hiding.”

“It’s not. For either of us.”

We let those words linger. In a perfect world, we wouldn’t have to worry about any of this. But we went into this relationship accepting that risk. I’d rather have that than not have it at all.

“Is…” Barry sits up and rubs his eyes. “Is Dex okay?”

“He’s staying with the Mach n’ Van crew. He really likes it there.”

“Oh, so, you’ve made up your mind. He’s not coming here.”

I take a deep breath. It’s not about making up my mind, it’s about doing what’s right for him.

“Nope.”

“Alright.” Barry caresses my face, tracing his hand along the ridges of my snout. “What’re you going to do when you see him tomorrow?”

I expect Dex will be pissed off at me. I deserve it.

“I don’t know.”

“Aw.”

Barry hugs me. I hug him back, gripping him tight. I’m afraid that if I let him go, he’ll disappear. I just count my lucky stars that he’s in my life.

“When…” Barry starts, his voice muffled by my neck. “When are you next free?”

One good thing I can say about the humans running Mach n’ Van is that they force me to have breaks. So many places I’d worked for in the past seemed to forget that Pokemon suffer burnout too. “I have the weekend off after tomorrow.”

“Let’s do something nice.” He kisses the groove beneath my snout. “We both need it.”

I hum in agreement. A part of me dreads going out again, knowing that we’ll still have to hide everywhere we go, but it’s better than nothing.

“Oh, and do you fancy a takeaway tonight? Maybe we could watch a show too.”

Not gonna lie, I was looking forward to Barry cooking tonight, but I feel we could both do with some comfort food.

“Sure.”

We spend the evening gorging on Cozy Fried Kitchen with a few beers while we binge-watch one of Barry’s animes. Unsurprisingly, it features anthropomorphic Pokemon as the main characters (Barry had to explain to me what anthropomorphic meant when I first started watching the show with him), featuring a Lycanroc who falls for a Lopunny in some high school setting. It took me some time to get invested, but I’ve warmed up to it, especially since their interspecies relationship hits a little close to home with me and Barry together.

I try to cuddle up to him like nothing happened, but he feels stiff in my grasp. That’s okay. We’re both still feeling raw, so I give him the space he needs. I soon forget about today’s worries with all the fattening fast food and lagers in the mix. I drift in and out of sleep next to Barry before I call it a night.

---

I try to shake off last night’s weariness as I drive back up to the Mach n’ Van base. I’ve been in a funk ever since I’ve woken up. Maybe it was the booze. Not just that, as soon as I step out of my car to greet the crew who have been running laps around the field, they all look at me as if I’m walking around naked.

“What’s up?” I say, nursing my head. “I’m not late, am I?”

“Nah.” Rip takes a swig out of a water bottle. “You’re early, if anything.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

Rip shrugs. Dex almost backs into him as he stops running.

“Hey, kid,” I say, forcing a smile. “Looks like you’ve been through quite a jog, huh?”

“Mmm.” Dex fiddles with his hands. Dextrous.

“How’d you get on last night?” I ask, as if I totally didn’t dump his ass here.

Dex looks off into the distance, past central Circhester’s buildings, over to a set of fields. Just faintly, I can see the grey exterior of Fairweather Daycare atop one of the hills. Then back to the house.

“Good,” he says at last. “Everyone’s really nice. Rip sparred with me. Hammer’s a great cook. I’ve never had eggs on toast before.”

His eyes wander as he says this. I want to reach out to him, pat him on the shoulder, try to act like a dad, like I wanted to when I took him in yesterday. But I can’t promise him that.

“Glad to hear you’re getting on well.”

Dex nods and continues his laps. Rip does the same, passing him his water bottle mid run. I don’t know what to do now since I’m not joining the crew on their drills. Hammer waves at me from the annex kitchen window. When I pop in to see him, he’s washing up a mountain of dishes.

“And Mister Puff Puff arrives,” he says as he’s scrubbing a frying pan. “You usually don’t come in here in the morning.”

“It’s only ten minutes before we start,” I say. “What’s up, anyway?”

“Just wanted to talk to you about Dex. The anklebiter’s great. I’ve never seen such a well behaved Machop. Didn’t hurt that he really liked my stew either.”

“Good.”

I wait by the door, expecting him to say something else. I don’t know what I’m expecting exactly. I could just smoke back in my car and wait it out until I’m expected to drive them up to their first job.

“What?”

His lips crease into a frown. “Dex was kind of upset.”

I knew it.

“I get why. He doesn’t like to talk about his parents, but I can tell it’s still raw for him. We’re a good team, but we can’t fill a hole like that in him.” He scoffs. “It’s not like this is new for me. Plenty of Machoke come to us not having anywhere else to go. All I can do is just give them that space until they’re ready.”

I hum in agreement. This isn’t just a place where Machoke train themselves, it’s a place that they have somewhere to call home for the moment. Supposedly. It’s never felt like a home to me.

“That anklebiter’s gonna find it really tough, though. More than anything, he needs someone to rely on. He was expecting that from you.”

I freeze. I know that I let him down. I can’t disagree with Hammer, but I don’t have a choice in the matter.

“You shouldn’t have led him on. You can’t promise something and then break it, especially not to a kid like that.”

I know. I know that more than anyone. But Hammer doesn’t know what I’ve had to go through. He can’t know. And I don’t want him to know, even though I’ve lumped this situation onto him. I just stare at him, clawing for any power I can get in this situation.

“Why don’t you say something, Glen?” Soap suds drip from Hammer’s hands as he grabs a tea towel. The hands on his back arms curl into fists. “Jeez, you don’t have to talk to me if you don’t wanna, but I’m just trying to give you some advice.”

“Well, Mister Nosy,” I snarl, “I’m not asking for your opinion, am I?”

I don’t mean to say it. The words just come out. That’s enough for Hammer to throw the damp cloth at my face.

“I’ll see you in the van,” he grumbles as he storms out. I’m left there holding the limp, dishwater-smelling tea towel.

My hands shake as I pull another cigarette out of my pocket. I’ve still got five minutes. I can’t go back to work until I get my fix again.

---

Me and Barry spent most of today together. We wandered around Circhester’s parks, he bought me lunch at one of my favourite sandwich shops in the city (sourdough!), and we both made plans to see new gigs next month. It’s been good.

Now I’m at this board game cafe with Barry’s friends: someone else from his workplace who looks like a lumberjack with his flannel shirt, and his boyfriend, who’s as thin as a Bellsprout. Barry thought it would be nice for me to befriend some humans. This would make it a double date if we actually made each other official.

I get on well with his group, at first. I don’t like how humans always ask each other what they do, as if the most important thing about them is their work, but I try to make my delivery driver job sound as glamorous as possible with all the places we go to, also talking about some of my problem customers so they know it’s not all Slurpuff and rainbows.

The lumberjack guy talks about his marketing role while his lanky boyfriend works in IT or some shit. I still don’t know what their jobs are actually about by the time we start playing a card game based off The Five Towers, some fantasy book about an Alakazam facing an evil human empire. It’s simple enough until it devolves into an argument about how much the latest show sucked and how many plot holes there are. Then they start rambling about another fantasy game where you kill hordes of mutated Rattata and I completely lose the thread of the conversation.

I literally can’t pay attention to what I’m supposed to do in this game while they’re talking about another game with all this super-complicated lore. After a while, I go through the motions, playing to the best of my ability in silence while Barry and his friends talk each other’s ears off.

I’m happy for Barry. He’s got friends that like what he likes, and I respect that. It’s just not my group. It reminds me of being back at the Mach n’ Van, except I at least get what they’re talking about.

I wonder what Dex would think of this place, and if he’d like the vanilla milkshakes here or the simpler games developed for Pokemon in mind. I think back to what Hammer said about Dex being upset, and how the rest of the day went where I barely spoke to Dex at all, then my argument with Barry the other night.

‘Maybe it’s better that Dex didn’t come with you.’

Now I just want to go home. I don’t want to leave Barry, but we already had a good day between us. Why ruin that by overstaying my welcome?

“I’m going back,” I say, shuffling out of the booth. “See you later.”

I want to kiss Barry goodbye, but I merely nod at him as I head out, lighting up on the way home.

---

I thought a drive along Route 8 would’ve lifted my spirits. I’ve been through these roads during my time as a cargo driver. There’s a comforting familiarity as I traverse these bends that give way to ruins.

Like the Hero’s Bath, these are remnants of civilisations long lost. Battlements, forts, and rock formations lay weathered on both sides of these roads. On one end, there’s untouched wilderness, where wild Rhyhorn and Sandaconda fight for territory amidst endless stretches of moss. On the other end, there’s the trainer’s path, where ladders and stairs have been erected around the dilapidated stone structures to give people and their Pokemon safe travels on their journey, while Falinks roll through the tunnels beneath them.

Both sides are fenced off to us, the people who actually have places to be. Except I have nowhere to go except back home to Circhester.

I stop at a vantage point where other drivers have parked near a petrol station and cafe. I chomp on a chicken salad sandwich as I look down at the trainer’s route that stretches for miles, one of the few places you can get a good look at the closed-off path without going into it yourself. In the distance, I can just barely make out a teenaged trainer hi-fiving their Noivern after coming out victorious.

Sometimes, I bask in the good ol’ days where I was just a Machop who didn’t know any better, so desperate to prove himself. Some days, I can imagine a life where I still travelled these routes with some wide-eyed trainer.

On days like these, I just see what could’ve been, and what isn’t.

I bring my unfinished sandwich with me in the car. When I make it back home, there’s still many hours left in the day. Barry’s practising his guitar in his room. I’ll leave him to it. I just veg out to Natuflix while I drink throughout the day. It’s not like I’ve got anything better to do when neither of us have made plans to go out.

It’s hard to focus, even as this human’s jumping between platforms on this elaborate obstacle course. It's hard to ignore Barry swearing at missing a note when we live in the same house together, even with his bedroom door closed. The show becomes background noise as I browse my phone.

The PokeJobs system sounds good. They’re meant to test whether or not Pokemon can enter the workforce, as if Pokemon haven’t been helping humans with jobs since the dawn of time. I had to stumble for ages before I made a good living, so anything that gives Pokemon a leg up sounds good. Then I find out they’ve stopped trialling it for the year. Oh well.

Then I type ‘Pokemon-human relationships’ into Rootom. Right away, there’s some news article on a scandal where a Sinnohan gym leader got banned from the league for being in a relationship with their Lucario.

The news only talks about Pokemon falling for the trainers, or the other way around. I grimace just thinking about it. Pokemon and their trainers shouldn’t mix. The power balance is skewed from the start.

But what about Pokemon like me who just meet humans naturally, like I did with Barry?

I don’t remember how many cans I get through in my doom-scrolling haze, just that I feel fluid, like water. I want Barry. He’s got his headphones plugged into his amp. Music can wait, right?

“Hey!” Barry says, half-yelling, half-chuckling. “You’re very cuddly, aren’t you?”

“Uh huh,” I mumble, and kiss his neck. “Wanna snuggle.”

“Aw, c’mere, you.”

He drops what he’s doing and joins me in bed. He feels so amazing. I love the hair on his chest, and his curves, and that pudgy stomach of his. He’s been told he’s fat all his life. I want him to know he’s loved.

Barry touches my pecs. Yes, this feels right. I want this, even when I know I shouldn’t. His broad hands trail down to my stomach and he pinches where my abs should be. All that’s there is a piece of flab.

I’ve gained weight after all the drinking, smoking, and the food I’ve eaten, even though I still exercise occasionally. Barry says he likes me for who I am, but is this what Barry sees staring back at him, this flabby husk of a Machoke?

The room feels so hot. Booze, maybe? No. I feel sick.

I stagger to the bathroom and lock it behind me, then reach for the sink.

“Glen!” Barry calls through the door. “Are you okay?”

“Just–” I take in a sharp breath–”just a minute. Please.”

I take a few deep breaths, then snarl at the Machoke staring back at me through the mirror. That big snout of mine makes any selfie I take with Barry look stupid. My purple skin makes me look as pale as death. These fucking red streaks across my arms look like fish gills.

The bathroom spins around me. My clammy hands slip against the porcelain of the sink. I’ve dealt with this before, these episodes. Barry’s been so helpful getting me to cope with them, so I should be over this by now. Then why–

‘Maybe it’s better that Dex didn’t come with you.’

Barry didn’t mean it. I shouldn’t even entertain the thought, but it is better. Dex’d never have to see me like this.

I spit at my own reflection, hoping it’ll go away. It doesn’t.

---

The weekend’s already over and it’s back to work. The crew’s fine talking among themselves, and Dex seems a little more cheerful without me interrupting things, so I stay quiet.

Work ticks on like it always does. Drive here. Drive there. Help occasionally. Smoke when I’m not needed. Come home. Barry’s there, and we still cuddle, but there’s this… air between us. I don’t know how to explain it. It’s like a piece of food that’s gone mouldy in the pantry but neither of us can find where it is.

The next evening after work, Barry and I watch TV in silence. It’s not as if we always need to talk, not that I really want to talk about my humdrum existence. But as we turn in for the night, Barry sleeps on his side, facing away from me. I ask what’s wrong, and he tells me he’s anxious, but I don’t know how to help him, especially with everything I’m dealing with myself. So I just spoon him and hope that’s enough.

---

The next day passes, I do my work, clock off and get home. Barry’s not there. He told me he wanted to see his friends from the other night again.

I summon enough willpower to make myself a stir-fry with mushrooms, and it doesn’t taste half bad. It’s nice cooking for myself for once. I wonder what it’d be like to cook for the Mach n’ Van crew, or Dex. He’s probably having a nice stir fry as we speak.

I stare at my half-eaten dinner while the clock ticks on. I can’t find any videos to play on my phone while I dine alone, and give up after a minute of searching. I stab a charred mushroom, once, twice, three times. Then I fling the fork across the room so hard that it bends against a kitchen cupboard.

This sucks. I have nobody to talk to, except Barry. Yet that coworker of his gets to walk around freely with his boyfriend.

I swear I’m the only Pokemon in the world who has to deal with this.

---

I don’t even say hello to Hammer the next morning, and he doesn’t say hello back. I think he’s stopped trying to be friendly with me. Dex is all cheerful to everyone else, but he’s weird around me now too.

I don’t know how long I can stay here while Dex is in the crew. I never should’ve taken him in. I never should’ve even considered raising anyone in the position I’m in. I’m an idiot for even thinking I deserve him.

The day goes by in a blur, and I drive back to the Mach n’ Van base, up the steep hill that’s surrounded by trees and Stantler crossing signs. I should focus on getting us up that hill, but the crew’s talking to Dex.

“...a Conkeldurr made that house?” Dex asks.

“Yeah!” Rip says. “They’re all, like, architects and stuff!”

“Not all of them,” Hammer butts in. “You say that like a Pokemon can just up and design some mansion by themselves.”

“Some of them can! Shows we can do some construction!”

“I’ve done construction before,” Hammer grumbles. “Not my sort of thing, the way they treat Machoke there.”

“Master Pillar makes these statues back home,” Dex chimes in.

“Oh yeah?”

“Uh huh. She likes takin’ these big chunks of stone and hammerin’ them. Dunno why she makes them. But she got me to try it. It was nice.”

“This Master Pillar sounds important,” Hammer says.

“Yeah…”

Dex’s voice lowers. He sounds sad, like he does whenever he talks about home, but my focus is on the road, not him or anyone else.

“I told, um…” He trails off again. I allow myself one glance at the rearview mirror, and I see him looking back at me. “She’s kind. Like you. She said I didn’t wanna go if I wasn’t ready. But I… a trainer– my parents–”

Dex’s voice cracks, then he starts sobbing.

“Hey…” Hammer pipes up. “Don’t cry, lil’ fella. What’s up?”

“I wanna—” he hiccups–”wanna go home…”

I’m at the last bend on the slope while Dex is crying his eyes out. There are a set of sturdy trees in front of me.I need to keep my eyes on the road. I can’t crash here. But it’s hard to see when my eyes are misting up so much.

Dex… He’s got nowhere else to go. I’d know what that’s like, more than anyone. And I just dumped him at my workplace.

I look back. Dex’s got his face buried in his hands as Hammer rubs his shoulder. I need to stop the car now, man the hell up, and be there for Dex. Salvage this somehow. I can make things right, I have to, I need to–

“GLEN!”

Hammer’s scream jerks me back to the front window as a pair of Stantler sprint from nearby bushes.

I tell myself I need to make the turn, but my body doesn’t register those thoughts. I swerve the wrong direction in the path of the Stantler, and they run, but I’m headed right towards the tree in front of me. I slam the brakes, but not fast enough to–

My teeth clack as we crash.

There’s an awful stillness in the van. Nobody’s hurt. Dex is fastened to his booster seat. But he’s all wide-eyed, probably in shock. He hasn’t spent long in a car, and I hoped that he’d never have to experience being in a crash.

I’ve been in a couple of crashes before, caused by humans who didn’t look where they were going. I’ve never caused one myself, let alone with a goddamn kid in the car.

Hammer glares daggers at me. He knows this shouldn’t have happened. He knows it’s my fault. I’m done. Done…

Oh Arceus above, what have I done?

Shit, everything’s so hot; I’m dying in here. I stumble out of the van and into the wilderness, hurtling towards nothing, towards something, just anywhere but that fucking van. Thistles and brambles whip my arms, my feet twist in odd positions on these uneven hills, and my chest burns, yet still, I run, I have to, I have to get out of there, I have to get out of here, have to get out of this–

I trip and hit the dirt, snout first. I see stars and taste mud. When I come to, I’m on some sort of hoof-beaten path. Wildflowers grow around the tracks, as if a stampede has forced the roots to part. And right in front of me, a bevy of Stantler bob their heads.

“Intruder!” one growls

“Get out!” another growls, stamping their feet.

“They almost killed me!” the couple I near-missed yell in unison. “They’re the enemy!”

I can make out what they’re saying, but their speech sounds more animalistic than any Pokemon I’m used to hearing, more coarse, more limited. These are wild Pokemon, through and through.

I get to my knees, raising my bruised arms to try and intimidate them, but they don’t back away. Deep down, I know whatever I do won’t work. I’m outmatched. I can’t stop staring at their antlers either. They’re mesmerising. I know that’s their defense against predators, but at some point, I stop caring and feel myself being sucked into those black orbs. They feel like they hold so much power. Not like me.

The buck charges at me, antlers first. I don’t care. If I die here, then that’s fine.

But that doesn’t happen. Hammer happens. He pushes the Stantler by its antlers, his bare feet kicking up clumps of mud as he tries to anchor himself. Once he finds his footing, he lunges forward with enough force that it flips the buck on its back.

The bevy bleat and bark in distress.

“You monster!” the doe screams.

“Get him!”

Two of the four charge in at once, but Hammer dodges one of them, and punches the other in the side with so much force that it crashes into a tree. The other attacker almost steadies itself, but Hammer uses all four arms to pick it up by its rump and throw it at the other two Stantler. One of them cushions the fall of the other, and they both topple to the ground. Only the doe is left standing.

“Make like a tree and get lost, all of you!” he yells, beating his chest. “If you ever charge at us again or cross the road without looking, I’ll turn you into venison!”

The Stantler stagger to their feet. The buck hobbles back to his doe, only for her to turn her head as they disappear into the forest.

Hammer did all of that. And here I thought he was huffing his own fumes the whole time. He turns back to me without even needing to take a breather.

“Hammer–” I start, only to get a knuckle sandwich from him. I tumble to the ground, tasting my own nosebleed. “Why the fuck did you do that?!”

“Because you’re a huge pain in my rear!” Hammer shouts. “You’ve been acting like a huge jerk all week, and now you almost get us killed? Twice?! Is anything even happening in that thick skull of yours?”

I don’t have the energy to lash out at him this time. He’s right.

“Get up and start walking. As soon as we get back home, I’m getting your butt fired.”

I haven’t heard that ‘f’ word in ages. Fired. Sometimes, it comes with relief. Other times, it’s meant a diet of instant noodles for weeks on end. Even though we’re both working, it would be a blow to Barry if I stopped.

Yet, right now, this isn’t about the job. I was worried I’d lose it if I ever talked about my relationship, but I’ve got nothing left to lose. Hammer should at least know why I’ve been such a shithead to him and Dex.

Just as Hammer turns to stomp off away from the forest, I take in a deep breath.

“I’m seeing a human.”

Hammer stops. My blood turns cold. I’ve just said it. I don’t feel relieved. I feel like sinking into the mud.

“I’ve been with him for two years.” The words just tumble out despite my gnawing dread. “He’s not my trainer. We just met at a gig. We wanted to raise Dex together.”

I can’t read Hammer’s expression with his back turned to me.

“That’s all I wanted. Something to look forward to. Someone like Dex. And I’ve fucked it up.”

I dig both my dirt-crusted hands into my arms. So many things race through my mind, but my throat feels like sandpaper and I can’t get anything out.

Hammer turns. His face is blank. I thought he would’ve been frothing at the mouth.

“You didn’t think of telling me this before?” he asks.

I blink. “What?”

“Seriously, I knew you were hiding something.” His shoulders sag. “Yes, I’m Mister Nosy. We’ve been working all this time, heck, even longer than before you met this human, and you can’t even trust me with that?”

“I thought you’d hate me.” I sigh. “It’s not like you’d understand what it’s like.”

“Get over yourself.” He snorts. “Jeez, some of the stories I’ve heard from the Machoke I’ve taken in would make your skin crawl.”

“Really?”

“Well, it’s not as if you’ve made an effort to get to know any of the crew. We’re supposed to be a team, y’know.” His eyes flash in realisation. “Oh… is this the human I called a weirdo?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh. Well, sorry.”

My grip slackens, my arms dead weights. I don’t say anything. Hammer doesn’t either. The moment is still as wind rustles leaves overhead, birds chirp, and Stantler hooves beat in the distance.

“You know, Glen, I thought you were nuts for wanting to raise Dex on your own. But you’re even more nuts for wanting to raise him with a human.”

“That’s why I can’t take him in.” I get to my sore knees. “I really wanted to. Still want to. And my human– I mean, Barry’s so nice. He’s got so much to give. I want to give something back to someone like Dex who deserves a chance. Not that I can do much now.”

“And you love this human? You trust him with Dex?”

“I mean, yeah, he’s fun to be around, he’s a great cook, he’s good with kids–”

“Okay, I don’t need the whole list.”

Hammer takes in a deep breath. I can see it travel down his neck and into his bulging chest. I admit, I’m jealous of his body. That might be the reason why I’ve been so cold to him.

He looks up. It’s getting dark.

“Glen.” He approaches me. “I know I’ve given you a lot of advice you never asked for, but I suggest you pick yourself up, apologise to Dex and invite him to your place.”

“I thought you didn’t want him around my crummy flat.”

“Shut up a sec, Glen,” he says as his back hands gesticulate. “I said it was gonna be tough. I didn’t say it wasn’t doable. I mean, what do I know? I’ve never rented before.”

“But how do I tell Dex about Barry?”

“I dunno. You’ve brought this on yourself. But if you’re gonna get involved in his life, and if you really wanna help him or give him a place he can call home, then do it. If he doesn’t like you being with a human, he’ll find someone else. At least it shows you’ve made an effort.”

It takes me some time to process what he’s saying, and I still can’t quite believe what I’m hearing. I have too many questions I want to ask, but that doesn’t matter as Hammer’s offering me his hand. I look him up and down. He’s nicked with little cuts from the brambles and thistles too.

I take it, and he pulls me up with his firm grip, then pats my back. But he doesn’t let go. He’s hugging me.

I can feel his warmth, just like Barry’s. It’s almost too much. I feel like crying, but I know that the last thing Hammer needs is another blubbering mess on his hands, so I keep it in and let go.

“You good?” he asks, to which I nod. “Good. Then let’s get back.”

We follow the hoof trail back to where I crashed the van. The rest of the gang is doing stretches on the side of the road. Dex is sitting on the bank, pulling up blades of grass. He looks up at me, then looks back down. Everyone else is giving me a hard stare, expecting me to work my magic. The front of the van is all dinged up. It’s not totalled, as it only bent the front, but there’s smoke billowing from the front. The radiator’s busted. One other skill that got me through life was the ability to fix cars, but I can’t fix this.

“We need to get it towed,” I say.

There’s a collective groan.

“Awww!” Rip throws his head back. “I’m gonna miss the Rex Revolver match!”

“Quit your whining,” Hammer snarls. “Glen, make yourself useful and tell me how far we’ve got to the base.”

I type in the address on our maps app. “A one minute drive.”

Of course, we were literally a minute away before the crash. Just my luck. It’s going to take about half an hour at the least for a tow driver to come, with how remote the Mach n’ Van base is.

Without even stopping, Hammer single-handedly pushes the van back onto the road.

“Alright, everyone, help me push this up!”

The crew hops to it right away, even Rip. With Hammer’s coordination, they’re able to turn it to face the hill. All they need to do is push it.

In all my time working, I’ve never seen anything like this. I know we’re strong, but I didn’t know we were that strong together. I’d say it’s inspiring if I still had that sort of power. The only one left behind is Dex, who’s still sitting on the grass.

I sit beside him, tucking my knees to my chest. I don’t quite know how to make it up to him. I don’t know how I can. But I need to try.

Dex breathes in and out. I breathe in and out with him. After a while, it feels like we’re in sync. That’s a good opportunity for me to speak up.

“Hammer told me you were mad at me the other day.”

“Uh huh..” Dex sniffles and wipes his bloodshot eyes. “You’re mean.”

I deserve that. “I’m sorry. I should’ve checked in to see how you were doing.”

“You’re mean to the Machoke too. They always say you ignore them. They just wanna talk.”

I sigh. “I know that now.”

He stands up and punches my shoulder. Ow. The kid can actually pack a mean punch, though I don’t show it hurts. I can’t be mad at him. He gasps at my bloody nose.

“Your face.”

I wipe my dried blood with a handkerchief. “Hammer gave me a good telling off.”

“Good.” He crosses his arms and turns his head away.

“I’m sorry, Dex. I’m really sorry, I so badly wanted to be your dad–”

“I don’t want new parents.” Even though it must hurt for him to say, he keeps it together. “I just don’t wanna be left behind.”

“You won’t. You have Hammer and the crew.”

Dex still doesn’t turn. I sigh, knowing he needs to hear me say this.

“And you have me. I want you in my life even if I might not be your dad, Dex. You’re great. I’m not gonna give up on you.”

I’m on my knees, almost begging for him to hear me out.

“I didn’t take you in because I was afraid you’d be unhappy with me.” I try to smile, even though it hurts. “But I was being an idiot.”

Dex turns, though he’s still cross with me.

“We never got to have dinner together. I want to show you my place first. There’s someone very special I want you to meet too. He plays music. I know you like music too. I think you’ll like each other.

His shoulders relax.

“You don’t have to stay. You may not want to. But I want to give you a choice, Dex. It’s your life.”

“My life.” He blinks, and looks back up at me. Then he looks at the van. “Should we help them?”

“Yeah.”

Dex steps forward, about to go with the crew, but he turns back to me, tilting his head. “When can I come around?”

He still wants to see us. See me. But he’s got to make up his mind about Barry yet.

“How about tomorrow? We can do that Bunnelby stew.”

He only gives a slight smile, but it’s enough. “Sounds good.”

Dex joins the crew pushing the van uphill. I join them too, thinking I’ll just be dead weight. They’re handling it just fine. But they ever so slightly advance up the hill quicker with me around.

---

We somehow push it all the way up to the driveway before collapsing in a panting heap. That’s probably the most exercise I’ve gotten in a while. I can’t imagine how Hammer feels, as even he’s sprawled out on the lawn, huffing and puffing.

The human owners run over to us. The man, pushing fifty, handles most of the logistics, sorting out van repairs and renovations for the lodging, and is the closest to Hammer. The woman, firmly in her fifties, is the brains of the operation, getting customers for us, sorting out pay, and dealing with the administrative stuff I’m glad I don’t have to deal with. Together, they’re a freaking power couple.

“What happened?” the man yells. “Are you guys alright?”

I lazily wave a hand up.

“We crashed–” I say in between breaths–”blame the Stantler.”

“I told them to get those things off the bloody road!”

“Radiator’s busted too.”

The woman huffs. “That’ll cost me more than an arm. Oh well, glad you made it back.”

The man investigates the van and checks on Hammer while the woman goes back into the house. I get to my feet and pat my muddy clothes. I so badly need a shower and a smoke. It’d be so tempting to go back to my place and crash, but I don’t even know if I have a job after this.

Hammer gets up before the rest do. He signs something to the human with all four hands, and the human signs back at staggering speeds. So they don’t need to speak to communicate with one another. Are they talking about me? The human’s checking the van, so he isn’t on my ass about what happened.

Hammer’s about to go back in the house, but I tail after him, stopping him by the annex door.

“What do you want, Mister Stalker?” he says, gesturing to his mud-caked legs. “I’m filthy.”

I know I should leave him to shower off, but I just can’t hang around while my job is in jeopardy.

“So, what happens now? With the job, I mean.”

“Well, the van’s fine. Nobody got hurt. I expect to see you tomorrow.”

“I thought you were gonna fire me.”

“I’m well within my right to.” He huffs. “Whatever. Just don’t screw this up next time.”

Somehow, I’m relieved, even if it isn’t a job I’m over the moon about taking. “Thank you. So that’s it today?”

“Yeah, unless you wanna hang around for paella tonight, not that you have to.” He grins. “I hope your boyfriend isn’t holding you hostage.”

“Of course he isn’t.”

“I’m only joking.” He chuckles and slaps my back before he heads back inside. I’m not that annoyed when he does it this time.

I look out to the crew who are playing football in the garden as if nothing happened. Huh, I’ve only seen them pull that ball out a few times. Dex is standing to the side, tilting his head at this strange game they’re playing, but Rip kicks the ball to him and Dex passes it back. They go back and forth, and Rip points to the field, probably showing the kid the ropes.

I don’t need to stay here. I’m seeing everyone else tomorrow anyway. I don’t even know if I’m good at football. Yet I think back to my outing with Barry and his nerdy human friends, and know I don’t belong with them on that board game table.

I don’t quite know what I’m going to do tonight, but I hope I’ll make my mind up on the phone to Barry.

“Hey, Glen!” he says. He sounds happy to hear from me.

“Yo.” I take a deep breath. Might as well tear the bandaid off. “So, long story short, I’ve spoken to Dex about coming to our place. He wants dinner tomorrow, if possible.”

“Wait, what?” Barry’s voice rises. “So you are inviting him around?”

“Yeah.” Oh, right, again, I made a decision on his behalf when I called the thing off to begin with. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s fine, it’s just…” He hums. “What made you change your mind?”

Should I tell him I spilled my guts out to Hammer? No, not yet.

“My mind never changed. I always wanted him around. I was just being a dumbass.”

“You’re not. Don’t worry. It’ll be nice to see him.”

“It will be.” Another deep breath. Deep breaths, one two. There’s so much I want to get off my chest. “Barry. Things have been weird between us all week.”

“It’s been a weird week.” He sighs. “You know it’s been the usual for me, but I think I needed some time out of the house. I’m feeling better for it, though.”

“So things are still cool between us?”

“Yeah? And yourself?”

I mull over what to say. I never know how to answer that, like those questions he asks about how work went. But talking to Hammer solved things. Why can’t I do the same with Barry?

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, I’ve just been worried–”

“I’m still sorry about what I said the other night. I don’t think we really resolved that still.”

A beat, then Barry hums.

“It’s okay. I said some hurtful stuff too.”

“You did. I really don’t appreciate the comment about Dex. I know you didn’t mean it, but that’s fucked me up all week, if I’m being honest.”

“I figured. I was trying not to beat myself up about it all week.” He sighs. “If it helps, I think you would be a great dad.”

I try not to let those words sting me. I can’t be a dad to Dex, but maybe I can be the next best thing.

“Okay.” I flex my bruised knuckles. “And I’m sorry again for punching the wall. I thought I was better than that.”

“It’s fine, we’ll cover it up.”

I don’t think the landlord would agree, but that’s beside the point.

“Dex wants Bunnelby stew, by the way. I didn’t get to tell you that before, but that’s his favourite dish.”

“I’ll see what I can do. I like a good challenge.”

“Looking forward to it.”

I think Barry fancies burgers tonight. It hits the spot sometimes even though it’s gross and fatty. But honestly? I fancy something with rice. I haven’t had a dish like that since Barry’s curry. Whatever Hammer’s cooking up in the kitchen smells gorgeous and onion-y. Dex would like it.

“And don’t worry about dinner tonight. The Machamp here’s got his signature paella.”

 

[Namohysip]

Ah, I missed your urban fantasy style of writing Pokémon. This'll be fun to read through.

Hey Neb! I'm here to read through everything that's currently out for this one, and I've had a craving for some urban fantasy again. With it being a Machoke, though, I imagine that most of this will be very low fantasy, with maybe just a feat of strength or two being the most we see. Knowing your style and the general summary, seems like we're going to have a focus on interpersonal relationships most of all.

The first scene does a good job of depicting our main character as someone who doesn't totally feel like he belongs, while trying to make his way in the world with some second-class undertones with how he thinks he's seen by others. The most prominent one is how he's seen when driving, and how he keeps expecting people to stop him or make him second guess.

And their general relationship is very cute. They love and care for each other, but I can also see the conflict in how it's sort of a forbidden thing despite how it's clear that Glen is at a human level. I think, in that way, it's a curious, mixed message that he wants to be seen "like a human" as opposed to a more general statement, like "like a person." Coming from the PMD perspective, "person" is actually used canonically to refer to fellow Pokémon now and then! Anyway, just an odd angle I spotted from Glen's perspective, which makes me wonder if that's a hint to a conflict later on.

I really like the idea of Fighting Pokémon communicating through punches and the like. Makes sense for their sort and the way it's built. I wonder if that communication language changes if you go to other regions or not.

I liked the interactions between Dex and Glen on the drive up and the way they seem to be of different worlds. Glen is certainly trying to understand him.

And then there's the awkward moment where Glen sees Barry right out in the open... well now it seems like at least one of the crew might be suspicious of what really happened and Glen has cold feet. Seems reasonable though I'm surprised he wasn't able to reply for so long to anything while out. That seems like almost the whole day.

You do a good job at presenting the way Pokémon live in this kind of society. The humans generally seem welcoming to an extent, but clearly see them as a bit out of place and kewa trustworthy of skilled labor. But at least they get room and board if they want it, since that was readily an option for Dex.

The confrontation between Glen and Barry was rough. It's hard to figure out the correlation between the punch and Pokémon instincts or something worse, but all things considered I think it's more clearly the former. A natural challenge for humans and Pokémon trying to understand each other.

The cooldown that followed with the many scene breaks helped show the passage of time flying by while also indicating that, yes, a lot of days passed. It didn't drag while also indicating that sort of monotony, without "saying" as much, until things reached their tipping point. And with the chapter eventually ending with a confrontation that nearly gets him fired, it was oddly natural despite how abrupt it was.

I felt in the same moment as Glen that there was really no use in hiding it when he was about to be out of the job. Maybe there were other options and venues where he could have been more cautious, but I think with the monotony before and the tension building up to that point, it made the most sense for him to finally speak up after all that time. In terms of the emotional climax of the story, I'd argue it was right there when he let it all out. What follows was falling action and how he had support after all, even if it was a mixed bag of it.

Overall, I liked this story so far. It's got a good balance of the bleak situation Glen and Barry are in with their forbidden love going on, while also showing that they can find some light in it anyway despite the envy of those who don't need to hide. Dex is the key factor in how they need to find a way to open up without openings so far that it blows up in their faces. It's a risk, but you can really tell that Glen and Barry are restless to find a way to "validate" their relationship with something tangible, while also trying to help someone in need in the process, in this case Dex.

I imagine there's going to be perhaps one more chapter to conclude things, and I hope it works out well for them. Curious to see where this one goes!

 

[canisaries]

Hiiiii! I'm back again for Chapter 3.

Before I know it, my fist hits the wall behind the settee. Oh, shit. There’s a dent in it now.

kyyyyle

My face feels hot. I’m crying, weeping. All the things I’ve tried to express to him, everything I’ve held in all this time, just melts out of my eyes and I join Barry on the floor, hugging him and kissing him and sobbing into his chest. I don’t want him to leave me. He’s too important to me. I’ve got nothing else. Not even Dex now.

This feels a bit sudden? Like it seems like he goes from angry to crying in two seconds. I think it can be sudden, but I would have expected the narration to acknowledge how sudden it is in that case.

We spend the evening gorging on Cozy Fried Kitchen with a few beers while we binge-watch one of Barry’s animes. Unsurprisingly, it features anthropomorphic Pokemon as the main characters (Barry had to explain to me what anthropomorphic meant when I first started watching the show with him), featuring a Lycanroc who falls for a Lopunny in some high school setting. It took me some time to get invested, but I’ve warmed up to it, especially since their interspecies relationship hits a little close to home with me and Barry together.

this sounds familiar....... but i cant put my Beastars on it.......

I stagger to the bathroom and lock it behind me, then reach for the sink.

YAY HES PREGNANT

That big snout of mine makes any selfie I take with Barry look stupid.

“Intruder!” one growls

Missing period.

“Because you’re a huge pain in my rear!” Hammer shouts. “You’ve been acting like a huge jerk all week, and now you almost get us killed? Twice?! Is anything even happening in that thick skull of yours?”
I don’t have the energy to lash out at him this time. He’s right.

Missing row change.

Hammer gets up before the rest do. He signs something to the human with all four hands, and the human signs back at staggering speeds.

pokesign :OOOO

“My mind never changed. I always wanted him around. I was just being a dumbass”

Missing period.

---

This was a really good chapter! Aside from that one spot I mentioned, I thought the progression and transitions of things were good. Like, how the argument got more heated, how Dex and Glen got more distressed during that car ride, just kind of everything?

I actually forgot that this story was a few-parter so I thought it was oddly climactic for something so little into the story, but after relearning that context, this makes way more sense. I do wonder what the final chapter, shorter as you mentioned, will do, and if it'll feel like it holds on the story for too long... but I know I'm still gonna have a great time reading it.

That's all I got this time! Like said, looking forward to the final part. Good luck with writing it!

 

[NebulaDreams]

@Namohysip

Wowsers, it’s been ages! I wasn’t expecting you to pick this up but I’m really glad you did. I’m glad you’ve liked it so far even though there isn’t far to go, so I don’t have a ton to reply to.

I really like the idea of Fighting Pokémon communicating through punches and the like. Makes sense for their sort and the way it's built. I wonder if that communication language changes if you go to other regions or not.

Glad you like it! It’s a carry over from the old version of I, Isobel and something I hope I can expand on when I get back to it. I haven’t actually thought about how it would carry over to other regions but the idea is that it’s not a one size fits all situation for fighting types. I feel like Spiteful Murkrow would probably have an interesting take on it given their focus on different languages.

You do a good job at presenting the way Pokémon live in this kind of society. The humans generally seem welcoming to an extent, but clearly see them as a bit out of place and kewa trustworthy of skilled labor. But at least they get room and board if they want it, since that was readily an option for Dex.

Kewa? But yeah, it’s something I haven’t quite addressed in the scope of this story but hope I showed enough of a range that there are more possibilities open to them.

The confrontation between Glen and Barry was rough. It's hard to figure out the correlation between the punch and Pokémon instincts or something worse, but all things considered I think it's more clearly the former. A natural challenge for humans and Pokémon trying to understand each other.

I’ll leave that to you, but I like how the ambiguity of that moment turned out.

@canisaries

This feels a bit sudden? Like it seems like he goes from angry to crying in two seconds. I think it can be sudden, but I would have expected the narration to acknowledge how sudden it is in that case.

I’ve added more to that section so hopefully it doesn’t feel as abrupt now!

this sounds familiar....... but i cant put my Beastars on it.......

Hmmmmmmmmm. All of this is more or less just to imply that Barry is a furry.

YAY HES PREGNANT

GODDAMN YOU CANIS, MY SIDES

Me: Not funny cani this is a totally serious moment.

Also me:

 

[NebulaDreams]

Author's Note: Sorry this part took an extra week to come out! I was planning on releasing it earlier since I already had chapter 4 written out, but when I received beta feedback for it, I realised that fundamental parts of the story had changed in a way that affected the ending I originally intended, so I had to rewrite most of it. I’m glad I did, since I didn’t want to risk putting out a disappointing ending. Thanks to @canisaries for giving this the once-over!

---

Part 4 - A Machop Eats Bunnelby Stew​

My pocket’s screaming. Dex is in the living room listening to Resurrection by Arceus Apostle; he seemed interested in that record in particular and it’s one of the more accessible albums in my collection, so I hope he’s not bored. Right now, Barry’s toiling away at his stew while I’m sitting here grabbing fistfuls of my jeans, trying not to smoke my nerves away.

“Glen?” Barry calls. “Come and help me a sec.”

I sigh and plod to the messy kitchen counter.

“How’s it looking?” I ask, as if I have any reason to doubt Barry’s cooking.

“Just about ready.”

Steam plumes as Barry removes the pot lid. A sea of golden-brown broth simmers in it, with islands of potato chunks and carrots poking out. Barry tries it, hums, and aims another spoonful at my mouth.

I stare at the spoon. Dex is still in the other room. I gently pry the spoon off of Barry’s hands and he deflates a little. I lift it to my mouth and… what else did I expect from him but perfection?

“It’s nice!” Barry perks up as I smack my mouth. “Very salty, though.”

“I mean, Bunnelby is gamey.”

“I didn’t know if you could even get it in the city.”

“There are butchers in Circhester.” He shrugs. “You can imagine they’re pretty tucked away, though. Kinda expensive, too–” he shakes his head–“anyway, we should dish up.”

I grunt an agreement and fetch the bowls for Barry to serve. It almost scalds my hands as we bring it to the dining table, then we sit opposite. Since we bought this table second-hand, we’ve used it a grand total of nine times for its actual purpose. The rest of the time, it’s been used for tabletop games. I hope we can use it more with Dex around.

He hasn’t agreed to anything yet. He might not after tonight. Telling Dex about Barry could go one of two ways, and I feel like it’ll go south, despite Hammer’s reassurance.

I can’t keep thinking about what-if’s, though; all that matters is the here and now. Deep breaths. I can do this.

“Dex?” I call. “Dinner’s ready!”

Five seconds later and he still hasn’t come. He probably can’t hear me through the blaring music, not that I can blame him since Phoenix’s Flight is playing. That’s the best song on an album full of bangers. One peek in the living room shows me Dex’s fully lost in the music, charging around the room and punching the air in an imaginary slam dance.

I know dinner’s ready, but I don’t have the heart to tell him to knock it off. This kid’s born for the freaking pit.

Dex notices me and stops to catch his breath. I turn the sound system down just a little.

“Hey, kid,” I say. “Stew’s on.”

His eyes sparkle beneath the ceiling lamp. He scoots past me, almost slipping on the kitchen tiles as he stops. Barry’s right there, waving at him.

“Hey, Dex, right?” Barry says. “Gosh, it’s nice to meet you at last!”

Dex squints. Right, I forget he probably can’t understand human speech that well, though he must recognise his own name.

“C’mon, join us while it’s hot,” I say in our own tongue. It’s weird to speak it around Barry, but that’s the least weird thing about this whole situation.

Dex climbs up to the seat next to me where the booster is, and leans to my side.

“That’s the weirdo human,” he whispers.

Of course that’s his first impression of Barry. Barry’s none the wiser as he fiddles with his beard. C’mon, man, say something. He doesn’t. I think he’s frozen up.

Whatever, I can’t wait for Barry to make the first steps here. I need to help both of them along the way.

“Dex, this is Barry. He’s–” I cut myself off, careful with what I’m about to say next–”this is that special someone I mentioned, the one that plays music.”

“Oh.” Dex fiddles with his hands. “I didn’t know you had a trainer.”

“He’s not,” I say more severely than I mean to.

So many people have made that mistake about us, including other Pokemon. At no point have we discussed that as a possibility, not even as a convenient way to introduce us to people who aren’t used to humans and Pokemon just being friends.

“Well,” I take the scalding bowl, “let’s try what he’s made for us.”

I start shovelling spoonfuls of Barry’s stew, and Barry does the same, though he shields his beard as he eats. Dex reluctantly joins in, forgoing the spoon and eating straight from the bowl. I’m not going to lecture him on table manners.

“Mmm,” Dex hums as he sips.

“Does he like it?” Barry asks.

Dex’s slurping fills the blanks. I take a meaty glob of Bunnelby mixed with chunks of veg. The saltiness of the meat mixes so well with the heartiness of the stew-soaked potatoes and the sweetness of the onions.

“Compliments to the chef,” I say as I point the spoon at Barry.

“Mmm hmm!” Dex slams the bowl down, leaving behind a stewy moustache. The kid’s finished half of it already. “He’s good. Some trainers cooked nice things, but not like this.” He tilts his head. “And he plays music?”

“He does. He wants to be a guitarist some day, but he has a little bit of stage fright. You still wanna be in a band, right?”

“Yes and no?” Barry dabs his mouth with some kitchen roll. “I like the idea, but I also like having control over my own music. It’s pretty easy to fill in drums with a DAW.”

I won’t bother explaining that last part to Dex. “He thinks about playing in a band sometimes.”

“A band?”

“Yeah, imagine having four Master Pillars playing different instruments.”

“Oh, okay.” At least he’s making eye contact with Barry now. Barry straightens his back too. I knew talking about music would get him to thaw.

“Did you like Arceus Apostle?” Barry asks.

I interpret, to which Dex nods.

“Good! I thought it would’ve been too heavy for you, but they’re one of the classics. Glen’s got good taste.”

I’ll have to get used to repeating the same thing twice, but it doesn’t seem to stop Dex talking to Barry as he’s leaning on the table.

“Did you two have a good day?” Barry asks.

Dex nods. “We went to this really big house, though it looked really empty even with all this stuff in it.”

“It’s one of those super minimalist houses, the types rich folks usually get.”

“Gotcha.” Barry grumbles. “I’m not a big fan of those, though Glen’s told me a few stories about the places he’s been to and they sound nicer. I hope you’re enjoying it at the Mach n’ Van.”

“It’s cool.” Dex glances between both of us. “So if you’re not his trainer, are you two friends?”

The chunks of Bunnelby sit like stones in my stomach, and I’m suddenly really thirsty, either that or my throat has shrivelled like a Cacnea. I’m the one who has to speak up. I’m the only one that can. But the words don’t come out.

Calloused fingertips brush my own. Barry’s reaching out across the table to hold my hand. In front of Dex. He’s always so warm.

Barry’s trying. I have to try too.

“Are you close friends?” Dex asks, staring at our hands.

I slowly nod. “You could say that.”

“How did you meet?”

“At one of those gigs I mentioned. The Cave.”

It’s still fresh in my mind. One night in between the supporting act and the headliner, Melting Nanab, I popped outside the entrance for a smoke. This was before more Pokemon started flocking to the club, so most humans gawked at me while I lit up. I had nobody else to talk to, but I’d spent so long enjoying my own company that I didn’t care.

Then I met Barry, back when he was a little chubbier and still on cigarettes. He asked me for a light since he forgot his. Nobody had asked me that before. We smoked next to each other in silence for a little bit, then he started complaining about the mixing. I had no idea what that was, but I knew the supporting band sounded like crap, so I asked him what he meant and he was happy to blab about how much reverb there was.

He never talked down to me even as he went into such technical detail. I was so used to humans doing that and being on my guard. And the way he looked at me as well with those kind, brown eyes; he just saw me the way I was. Not as a Machoke. As myself.

Even in this room, across the table, he still looks at me the same way. How on earth do I get Dex to understand that?

Dex searches both of us. What for? How our hands grip each other, perhaps? Or the way we just looked at each other, the way I look at Barry as if I can’t wait to pull him closer? Who knows? But Dex finds something there as realisation creeps up on his face.

“Oh.” He blinks. “Wait… you’re like, um, Tackle and Bait.”

“And who are they?”

“The Sawk and Throh in my dwelling. They’re nice and fish a lot, they’re always holding hands, and they look at each other like they’re both going crazy.” He frowns at Barry. “But he’s a human.”

I should’ve expected this. The stony feeling curdles into a stomach ache, which I try to suppress as Barry wrings my hand tighter. He’s got my back.

There is no best way. Just the most honest way. Besides, Dex deserves an explanation after putting two and two together like that. Sharp kid.

“Yeah, me and Barry are together. Like those Bait and Tackle guys.”

Dex’s frown stays etched on his face, one of confusion, which I’ll take over disgust.

“How does that work?”

I don’t even know what he means by that, but I’ll just roll with it. “I dunno. When we met at The Cave, we were just friends, at first. Then we really got to know each other, and I felt like Barry was someone really special to me. Is there anyone you like like that, back at your dwelling?”

“There’s one other Machop, but I don’t think she likes me back,” Dex’s tensed lips relax a little. “Is that normal, humans and Pokemon?”

“No.” I take a deep breath. “A lot of people don’t like the idea. Hate it even. And for good reason. You wouldn’t wanna fall in love with your trainer, like you wouldn’t with your parents.”

“Ew.” Dex sticks out his tongue. “But he’s not your trainer.”

I suppress a sigh. Not going to lie, it gets tiring having to repeat it, but I need to make it crystal clear to Dex that what we have is built on mutual trust. “No.”

“So it’s fine for you two.”

“Yeah.” I smile at Barry. I think he’s happy to let me drive the wheel from the way he smiles back. “We both pay rent. We both clean up after each other. We both give each other space when we need it.” I release my grip and turn, nursing my knuckles. “But not everyone sees it like that.”

It’s hard not to think about all the shit that happened before I met Barry. There was Axel at The Stantler’s Bust. That pub was a freaking dive, alright, but I didn’t care since Axel smelled so good, like oran zest and woodsmoke, and he was well toned from all the running he did. I scoured through a hundred dives to meet someone like him, and would’ve scoured through a hundred more.

We got caught kissing behind the slot machines, of all places to get caught. Axel took the heat for it as those shitty pub mates of his all turned on him; one even threw a pint glass at his head, and it wasn’t even meant to knock him out, but he got a whole damn concussion from it. When I turned up to his hospital with cans of Psycho Soda, he just told me to get out.

We haven’t seen or spoken to each other since.

I’ll never tell Dex what I went through to get to this stage. He doesn’t need to know. All he needs to know is the love and kindness Barry and I have to share.

The clock ticks on. Dex uses that space to finish the rest of his bowl, chugging it down in one go. Fucking hell, he demolished that. Finally, he wipes the rest from his mouth.

“I think I get it. Some in our dwelling don’t like Bait and Tackle bein’ together, but I think they’re wrong. They wanna have a little Sawk or Throh together too.” Dex tilts his head. “Wait, can you make eggs together?”

I slap my maw, doing my damndest to suppress a chuckle as Barry furrows his bushy eyebrows. I shouldn’t laugh since it’s a fair question, and one that’s the most pressing to answer.

“No, that’s why we wanted to adopt in the first place.” I inch closer to Dex and take a deep breath. “Look, Dex, I meant what I said earlier. I really want you in my life. But I need you to tell me whether or not you like the idea of being raised by me and Barry. I know you said you don’t need new parents, though.”

“The human’s nice…” Dex’s voice trails off. I can’t begin to imagine what he’s going through, or what he’s trying to process. “This whole thing is weird.”

I was afraid of that. I wash the lump in my throat down with some water. “How so?”

“It’s… this place. The city’s loud. You can’t just fight any Pokemon you see either.”

“There are other Pokemon like you. There are places you can battle in the city.”

Dex bats my side with the flat of his hand. I don’t get what he’s trying to tell me.

“I like speaking with our hands, like we used to. I don’t wanna lose that.”

“I can learn. Maybe you and Hammer can teach me a thing or two.”

He huffs and squirms in his booster seat. “And I wanna see Master Pillar, but dunno how. She’s so far away. All of them are. I dunno if they’ll have me back.”

“I have a car.” I force a smile; I need him to see that I’m on his side. “I can drive you anywhere you want. You can visit any time you’d like.”

“But I dunno where it is.”

“We can find it, whatever it takes.”

“But–”

Dex’s voice hitches. Whatever’s troubling him has got its hooks deep in him again, like it did when I saw him pounding that training dummy, like it did when he broke down in the van.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

He curls up and cradles his knees.

“I dunno what I wanna do. I dunno if I belong here. I dunno if I belong anywhere.”

I exhale through my nose. I’ve felt the same, so many times.

“I know how you feel.”

“You don’t. Nobody does.”

Jeez, he just sounds so defeated. No Machop should have to feel like that already. What do I even say to cheer him up?

I can’t. There’s nothing that can fix this, nothing that can bring his parents back, nothing that can show him the right path to follow. Life for me has been like driving through the road at night with busted headlights, with only a few pit stops in sight. I don’t know if Dex feels the same, but I see so much of myself in him. My taste in music. That feeling of not fitting in anywhere. That fighting spirit I used to have. It’s still in Dex.

I know from now on that whatever I do, I’ll make sure he never loses that spirit.

I lay a hand on his shoulder, and give him however long it takes to come to. I take deep breaths, and he breathes in time with me.

“Dex?” I start. “Can I show you something?”

He doesn’t look me in the eye, but he nods and follows me into one room I’ve been waiting to show him: his bedroom. Well, it’s still our room, technically. The landlord hasn’t checked that we’re not sleeping in separate rooms yet. Barry’s currently using it as a rehearsal space as instruments are propped up in various places, while some of my workout equipment is tucked away in the corner.

Dex paws at the bass guitar on the stand. I draw my hand up, about to tell him not to touch Barry’s valuables when Barry steps in and sits cross-legged by Dex’s side. He picks the guitar up and strums a few notes; even though it isn’t plugged into the amp, its earthy tones resound in the room. He keeps his fingers fixed on one chord and invites Dex to strum the bridge. Dex’s face brightens up a little as he plays with Barry’s guidance.

“It sounds super deep,” Dex says. “You wanted to show me this?”

“That’s not all.” I kneel where Dex and Barry sit and wave my arm around the space. “This can be your room.”

Dex blinks. He scans the room as if he’s lost, unsure of what he can add to it just by being Dex.

“What would I do with it?” he asks.

There’s still so much I take for granted, human things like possessions and creature comforts, vinyl records and engraved lighters, stuff that doesn’t serve a practical purpose that nevertheless fill my little life with joy. I never grew up having that.

“Anything. You can do anything you want. We can put a bed up in here, and anything else you’d like.” I snort, trying to relieve the tension in some way. “Well, within reason. We can’t put a spaceship in here.”

“What’s a spaceship?”

Maybe I’m filling this kid’s head with too many ideas too fast. “Never mind. But this is yours to keep, if you want it. Even if you decide to go off on a trainer journey, work for some other removal place or do super important work or become a rockstar, you’ll always have some place to come back to.”

Something’s welling up in me. I’m trying to keep it together for Dex, but I don’t even know if he wants to stay at all. I don’t know what I’d do if he doesn’t; maybe look for some other Pokemon to adopt. But there’d be no other Machop like Dex.

“You really mean that this time?” Dex scowls, like he did when he punched my shoulder, which still hurts. “You won’t leave me again?”

“I’ll become Boltund chow before I ever let you down again.”

He stands up. Whatever’s got his hold on him lets go, and his shoulders relax. Dex takes a deep, shuddering breath and holds his arms out. I don’t need to know our sign language to know what Dex is asking for.

I scoop him in my arms and hold him tight. His sobs are muffled by my embrace. Barry joins in too, pulling us together.

I don’t have all the answers right now. Not for myself. Not for Barry. Not for Dex. But this feels right. Whatever we do, whatever Dex becomes, whether I stay at the Mach n’ Van, whether Barry gets his big break, I’ll make sure none of us have to face it alone.

---

Coda - A Machop Joins The Mosh Pit​

The sweat of a hundred humans and a few Pokemon stick to me and Barry. The room’s hot. It’s hard to breathe. The floor’s sticky from all the spilt beer. It’s foggy as hell from the smoke machine. And I love it. Dex seems to love it too, kicking his feet as he sits atop my shoulders, getting a good view of the headliner at The Cave: Torterror.

I’ve seen so many good bands in Circhester since I moved here. So many of them are fronted by humans, with the occasional Pokemon band member or two, but Torterror is one of the few Pokemon-fronted bands who have stood out from the crowd.

A Torterra with strips of tattered black cloth hanging from its tree branches growls into the stage microphone. The backing band, made up of two humans playing the guitar and bass, and a Braixen clad in black and white body paint on the drums, is fully in sync with him, playing slowly to match his dirge.

It’s a great crowd too. Everyone’s dressed in black. I even brought my Torterror shirt to match Barry’s. Looks like a few Pokemon are fans too, judging from the Scrafty and Jynx windmilling in the back.

Then the music picks up. The drummer’s blast beats combined with the super fast, technical riffs and the Torterra’s shrill screams drive everyone into a moshing frenzy as they form a circle pit. I keep my distance at first, conscious that Dex is a little Machop in a sea of human metalheads, but Dex jumps down from my shoulders and tries to join them.

I’m about to stop the whole thing when the moshers make some space for Dex. His laughter as he runs like a freaking Slurpuff on a sugar high is lost in all the noise.

I smile at Barry. He looks so good tonight, even in black and white face paint. I so badly want to kiss him, but I know I can’t. I’ve made some peace with keeping this a secret from the world.

Then Barry leans in to kiss me.

I pull away, expecting the crowd to stop and gawk at us. But they don’t. They’re too busy slamming against each other. I kiss him back, and our lips stay locked together even with all the chaos swirling around us.

---

Author's Note: You made it to the end! I’ve been working on this for a couple of months now, so it’s the biggest project I’ve recently finished. I feel like the journey to get here was a little messy, especially since I originally envisioned it as a one-shot and the ending was going to be a lot more bittersweet, but overall, I’m pleased with how it turned out.

I hope you enjoyed it, or at least got something out of even if the premise wasn’t quite your cup of tea. This was quite personal for me, and some of it is based off of my current relationship, though take what you will with a grain of salt.

As for future plans, I have a couple of ideas for more one-shots in Circhester that I’d like to write, if they don’t balloon out of scale like this one did. I also hope this lights a fire under my butt to write more of my longfic I, Isobel, though funnily enough, Glen was meant to be somewhat of an antagonist in the original draft of that story.

Anyway, thanks again for reading and stay tuned for more (possibly)!

 

[Spiteful Murkrow]

Heya, I got rolled a triplet of chapters of this fic as a prize you redeemed for Review Blitz. As you probably gathered a couple months ago, I tend to do very uncompressed reviews on a chapter-by-chapter basis, so I’ll be here today to deliver the first third of those reviews that you’re due.

Anyhow, let’s just jump right in and see what everyone’s favorite background cameo moving company Machoke from Gathering Moss is up to:

Chapter 1

Spoiler: Line-by-Line

>dat title

Are we going to see that one scene of Gathering Moss from Glen’s perspective, or…?

I’m on my tenth Sandy Numel today. The cigarette smoke seeps in and out of my chest, carrying my worries through the autumn air. Those other Machoke and Machamp can handle the job on their own, and it’s above my paygrade, so I can get away with sneaking behind the van. Besides, it gives me an excuse to check my phone.

Ah yes, just casually destroying his lungs in live-time, I see.

Barry’s working overtime, so he’ll be coming home late. That’s fine. It’s just that I’ve been waiting all day for that daycare centre to ring back, but it’s 4PM and there are still no new messages. What the hell is taking them so long? I’m about to text them when the Machamp, Hammer, sneaks up and slaps my back, and I nearly swallow my cigarette.

Ah yes, that’s where that adopted Machop is coming from. Though I see that Glen wants to start his kid in his life off young if he’s reaching out to Day Cares assuming they work remotely along the lines as how they do in-game.

“Fucking hell,” I snap. “You’re gonna give me a heart attack one of these days.”

“Better a heart attack than whatever that thing is. It’ll stunt your growth, Glen.”

I blink and take another drag. I don’t think he realises how much that growth comment hurts, whether he meant it or not. “What’d you need me for anyway?”

Huh. Nicotine stunts Pokémon growth in this setting. I wonder if that’s based on anything from IRL there.

Hammer leads me to the view of the spacious limestone house we’re moving stuff into. Not a whole lot of moving is going on as two of the delivery Machoke stand around the front garden with their arms crossed; right beside them is a varnished table set on a manicured lawn. Hammer then points to our human client chewing out Rip, one of our top crew members.

… Can’t tell if this is going to be that one scene from Gathering Moss or not. It kinda sounds familiar, but I could’ve sworn there were more flowers involved.

“That human’s being a right pain in the rear,” Hammer grumbles.

I sigh and stamp my smoke into the dirt with the tip of my boot. Of course I’m the only Pokemon in the team that can deal with crap like this. I charge into the fray where the middle-aged human with a face the colour of an undercooked Magikarp fillet wags his finger at Rip.

Whelp, we’re in a different house, I see, since there wasn’t anyone ‘middle aged’ in the point in Gathering Moss that Glen showed up in. Though I can already tell that Glen’s going to hate dealing with this client in 3… 2…

“How could you even think about moving the desk with those ham fists of yours? It’s mahogany! Ma-ho-ga-ny! Do you even know how valuable it is?”

Rip throws up his hands as if he’s being mugged by a Scrafty.

Wait, Scrafty can successfully mug a Machoke? You’d think that’d be a recipe for massive pain there.

“What’s going on?” I say in human tongue.

“Oh, he talks!” The human fans the air. “Tell these goons to be careful with my stuff!”

“Goons, my butt,” Rip scoffs as he walks off. That’s my cue to step in.

“Sir,” I start, “I’ve been with this team for five years. We wouldn’t be hiring Pokémon if we didn’t think they’re capable of leaving everything in one piece.”

I kinda feel like it makes more sense for all the “human language” dialogue to be formatted in the same style as each other, since I’ll admit, seeing the client and Rip say things in the same format kinda threw me a bit for a second.

“One piece? Have you seen the way they pick stuff up?” He lifts a wooden chair from the porch as if he’s about to throw it through the window. “Like this?”

I pinch the bridge of my snout. “You wanted the Mach N’ Van to help you today, didn’t you?”

I mean, with a business name like that, is this guy really surprised that the movers are rough with his furniture? Since ‘speed’ is very obviously the name of their game.

“Wasn’t my bloody idea to hire Pokémon to do the heavy lifting! Blame my wife for that!”

Glen: “Yes, and this sounds like a thing that you should talk over. With your wife. Look, do you want the stuff off the truck or not?”

He’s seriously bringing his partner into this. I think of how Barry would feel if I ever talked about him that way, and heat rises in my chest.

“You know…” I lower my voice and step within slapping distance of the human. Even though I’m the same height as he is, he’s already shrinking up. “If that’s how you act around everyone, I’d be embarrassed to be your wife.”

He’ll either fly off the handle and call off the job, or back down and let us do our damn work. Thank Arceus he steps back.

Ah yes, nothing like a bout of good old-fashioned physical intimidation to set your clients straight. I mean, it’ll probably be absolutely terrible for Mach n’ Van’s Yelp reviews afterwards, but that’s a “then” problem for later on, I presume.

“Now, sir,” I continue, “if you let the crew do their work, we’ll be out of your hair for good. We’ll take extra care of your valuables. Alright?”

All the colour drains from the human’s puffed-up face. “Right. Fine. Just do it.”

“Thanks, sir.”

Or at least towards the idea that this guy’s really going to be satisfied with whatever effort Glen and the gang put in with taking his valuables off the truck.

I bite down the urge to light another cigarette as Hammer beckons our crew to the front garden.

“Well, guys, we can go ahead now, thanks to Glen.” I squirm as Hammer pats my back again. “Take that as a learning experience. I’ve dealt with trainers like that all the time, especially ones in the league that thought they were better just because they had psychics or whatever…”

By physically intimidating the problem clients? How on earth is that not a recipe to get review bombed to oblivion on Yelp and similar websites?

My hand drifts to my pocket as he speaks about the good old days. I’m not going to start lighting up in front of the crew, but Hammer just makes it too tempting sometimes.

“All this to say that you shouldn’t let anyone get to your head, whether they’re humans or Pokemon,” Hammer concludes.

“Do we have to help that human out?” Rip whines.

Hammer: “Yes, because otherwise we’re not getting paid for this job.” >_>;

“Just do your job. All of you, including you, Mister Puff Puff.” Hammer grins at me with those big lips of his. “The sooner we get out of here, the better.”

I’m not going to kick up a fuss as it’s the last job of the day and everyone wants to go home already. Mostly me. I’ll focus on the smaller but more fragile objects like the ornaments and vases as it strains my back the least. I take it one step at a time as I go up the front steps into the house, then into the living room where I’ll drop off the rest of the possessions.

Yeah, something’s going to go wrong with this job, I can already tell.

Even without the furnishing, this lounge reeks of luxury, from the gilded window three times my size to the fireplace with a housewarming present in the hearth. I’d never be able to afford this in my lifetime, not that I want it. What would I do with all that space?

Can’t tell if sour grapes denial or just non-human mindset in action. Though that makes me wonder how Glen would react to the equivalent of some 75 square meter flat in a luxury condo as a point of comparison.

I go back and forth between the van and the house, mostly keeping to myself while the others move beds and chairs and whatnot into different rooms, until there’s one box left. I follow after two Machoke who carry that oh so precious mahogany table into the living room. I’m about to add my box to the pile when the two stop to glare at me with questioning red eyes.

The moment lasts two seconds before they leave, but their look says everything. They know I’m weak. It doesn’t matter that I’m probably twice as old as them. You don’t get through life as an unevolved Machoke without sensing when someone’s looking down on you.

I would suggest that Glen invest in an Eviolite, but given his remark about how he’d never be able to afford a place like this in his life, I suspect he might have troubles getting the cash to pick one up.

I take deep breaths, just like Barry taught me. It’s fine. This job’s just a stopgap for them, just another way for them to build their muscles before they go back to their trainers. This is how I make my living. That’s what I have to hang onto.

Ah, so the others on the crew are working through PokéJobs at the moment, huh? I find it kinda funny that that makes this the second story you’ve written following a Machop line Pokémon with that featured prominently, even if Glen isn’t an active user of it himself.

It takes a few moments for me to pull myself together and return to the van, and even when I’m behind the wheel, I still feel rattled. I just want to smoke and play some of my tunes, but that’ll piss off the crew even more, so I drive in silence as I try to navigate Circhester’s outskirts.

That makes me wonder what the requirements are for a Pokémon to be able to get a drivers’ license in this setting. If obviously ‘be able to work the pedals and wheels’.

I feel uneasy the whole ride back, especially with all the winding country roads and Sunday drivers cutting me off or forgetting to indicate. Some say Pokémon can’t drive, but I could probably afford a new car if all the bad human drivers in Galar donated 100 Pokedollars each. After all that stopping and starting and an annoyingly steep stretch uphill, I finally reach the Mach n’ Van base.

Before I even get the chance to stop the van, everyone in the back unbuckles their seatbelts and steps out.

“Hey, that’s danger–”

Forget it. The Machoke are already running off into the fields, burning the energy they’ve held in throughout the drive. At least Hammer has the sense to keep himself buckled while I park onto the driveway.

I’m a little surprised that given how Glen mentions that at least some of his coworkers are trained Pokémon that none of them just recalled themselves into their Pokéballs for the drive back. I suppose that’s a sign that they’re either stasis-based or else don’t have much in the way of an internally simulated environment.

“I’m gonna run them over one of these days if they keep doing that,” I say.

“Don’t sweat it,” Hammer says. “It’ll take more than that to do them in.”

Machoke are confirmed for being built tough if they can survive getting run over by a moving van. Though duly noted.

“Whatever.” I sigh. I finally have the chance to pull out another cigarette. “Could you give me some space?”

“Sure, Mister Puff Puff.” Hammer pats my back again before he steps out of the van.

I wish he’d stop doing that; I’m not some Machop. But whatever. Hammer’s got his own business to deal with anyway as he heads towards the house overlooking the vast field dotted with fighting types. This is the home base where the humans managing the company live. I’ve got to talk to them to collect my pay, but for now, I need my fix.

I kinda feel like the bit where Glen’s going off in his thoughts for a bit works a bit better split off from the earlier part. Though I see that this house and field are basically the moving company equivalent of a dorm for Glen and his fellow Pokémon movers. Duly noted, even if I kinda get the feeling that things aren’t fully on the up-and-up here, since this setup feels like it’d be absolutely ripe for economic exploitation.

I almost take out my lighter when my phone buzzes.

“For fuck’s sake,” I mutter. I’ll go feral if it’s another scam caller. My tune changes completely when I see it’s from the daycare centre and I answer right away.

Yeah, I certainly can relate there. Definitely makes it hard to tell which calls from numbers you don’t recognize you should be picking up or not.

“Glen speaking,” I say.

“Glen… Oh, the Machoke?” the human caretaker chirps. “You don’t sound like a Machoke over the phone!”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Um, you know, your voice, it’s…” She clears her throat. “Anyway, Dex is happy to spend a day with you to see how things go.”

I’ll take it that Glen’s been going through his Numels for quite a while now given that the caretaker seems to be implying that he has the equivalent of a smoker’s croak. Though ‘Dex’, huh? I wonder who’s-

I almost drop my cigarette. “When can he come over?”

“Any time! Just tell us what date works best for you!”

Oh, ‘Dex’ is the Machop. Or at least I think that’s where this is going right now.

I pause. It would be nice to spend the weekend with him so I don’t have to work, but Dex wants to see what it’s like, so I’m not opposed to him tagging along. He’ll either like it or think it sucks. Besides, I want to ease him in before he meets Barry.

Huh, so there’s a ‘testing the waters’ phase of Pokémon adoption. I wonder if that’s currently the standard for pet/child adoption IRL or not.

“Tomorrow’s fine.”

“So soon, huh? That should work. It’ll be nice to see you then!”

I hum a reply and hang up. Something bubbles in my chest like I’ve chugged too much Pekkochu. So this is happening. I’m adopting a Machop, maybe. The kid’s got to decide whether or not he wants to stay with us still, but it’s a start.

‘Pekkochu’, huh? Wonder what that’s a play off of, though it’s clearly something fizzy.

I can’t wait to tell Barry, but I’ve got errands to run. I grab my cash from the manager, ten-thousand Pokedollars, though I don’t stay for any chit-chat. I should at least let Hammer know about tomorrow’s plans. He’s in the annex’s kitchen chopping up veggies. Even as a Machoke, I feel wary being around a four-armed fighting type wielding a knife.

Uh… that is not just going “the first two zeroes are cents/pence”, right? Since if so, this is making like 10% over IRL British minimum wage for doing backbreaking work all day.

“You off?” he asks.

“Yeah. I’d like to bring a Machop along tomorrow if that’s cool. He wants some work experience.”

Just filing it away that there doesn’t seem to be any age restrictions on Pokémon laborers there. Though I suppose it makes sense given that Pokémon don’t necessarily age the same as humans do.

“Sure, I’ve got no problems with that. I’d always like an extra hand on deck.” He hums. “How’d you meet him anyhow?”

“Oh, I just know him from somewhere.”

His eyes narrow. “Somewhere?”

I breathe through my nose. How do I tell him about the daycare business without him asking a whole bunch of other questions?

[ ]

“Forget it. I know you like to keep things hush hush.”

“It’s not that,” I snap. How would he understand? “It’s–” I sigh–”just whatever happens, cut him some slack. He’s just lost his parents in the wild.”

I kinda think it might have made sense to show a bit more of Hammer’s reaction a bit before he brushes Glen off, but boy did things take a dark turn quick there.

I can see the gears turning in Hammer’s head. He lowers his eyes and turns back, bell pepper in hand. “Got it. I’ll see you both tomorrow, I guess, unless you wanna stay for dinner. It's the crew’s favourite: paella.”

Wonder if there’s any Paldeans around on said crew, since that certainly feels like a very particular dish to whip up in Galar there.

My gut twists. Some grub wouldn’t hurt. It’ll be a couple of hours before Barry gets home from work anyway.

I stare out the kitchen window where the Machoke play fight in the front garden. Some buried part of me still itches for the fight, that feeling of skin on skin, blow to blow, even if I won’t be any match for them. But I know I don’t belong there with them. None of them get what it feels like to be around other Machoke, like I’m some Mimikyu playing dress-up as one.

Huh. I wonder if Glen just never advanced to the same level as these other Machoke or if he’s had something that’s made him regress over the years. Since it sounds like even if he can lug around heavy furniture, that he doesn’t have the same battle strength as a “normal” Machoke which I’m sure will wind up coming up again later in this story.

“I’m good,” I finally say. “I’ve got stuff to do.”

“As mysterious as ever. Suit yourself.” Hammer shrugs and continues performing his kitchen duties. Whatever, nothing more needs to be said, so I’m out.

Glen: “Phew, that was way closer than I’d have liked.”

I leave the van behind as that belongs to the company. I’ve got my own ride, a Rhyhorn V82. As soon as I sit behind the wheel, I feel right at home. I hold up my lighter, inspecting the cartoony Machoke engraved on the silver case. I’m so glad Barry got it for me as a present. To think I never celebrated birthdays before he came into my life. All the stress in my body ebbs away as soon as I light another one up. Sweet release.

“Rhyhorn V82”, huh? I wonder if this is based off anything in particular. Or for that matter what style of vehicle it is. Like should I be picturing Glen squeezing himself into a bland-name Renault Twingo from 20 years ago? Going around in a rusty Nissan Navarra clone?

What’s even sweeter is that I can finally play the rest of that new Torterror album, Cursed Earth. I bob my head to the blast beats as I drive down to central Circhester. This album’s even better than their last one, from the performances to those singer’s screams. It makes trying to find a place to park in Circhester’s streets a lot more bearable, as my flat’s nestled right in the city centre in all its foot-stomping, binge-drinking, Pokemon-crying, horn-blaring glory, tucked above a phone shop.

Yeesh, Glen’s life just screams grunge there. Even if it sounds like he’s taking things fairly well there.

Even though I’ve lived at this place for a couple of years, people still turn their heads at a Machoke parking their car near here. Thank Arceus nobody stops me, though I still look over my shoulder as I unlock the front door to my place.

Whelp, I suppose that’s a sign that Pokémon driving vehicles is still pretty rare in Galar. I assume that Glen’s technically not trained at the moment, since you’d think that PC shenanigans in a Pokéball would be faster than commuting via car.

As expected, Barry isn’t in yet. The flat always looks so sad without him as his game controllers and vinyl records are dotted around odd parts of the living room, going unused. There’s only a little light filtering in from our tiny window, and all it leads to is the view of loud humans on their pub crawls. There are little patches of mold in the corner as well. That’s something we have to sort out between ourselves, but for now, I kick off my boots and collapse on the settee.

Yeah, I knew this place just screamed ‘grunge’. Though I suppose it makes sense given that there was some text earlier implying that Glen and his human BF aren’t exactly flush with cash.

I zone out to Natuflix while I wait for Barry to come back from work. Last Strongman Standing is a good way to kill time, especially so I can admire the muscles on display with those big, burly humans pulling lorries and whatnot.

Ah yes, Machoke standards of attraction, I see. Though I wonder how that varies from one Fighting-type to the next in this setting.

They have a version of this with fighting-type Pokémon, naturally. There is a novelty to a Machamp breaking a wall with their pinkies, sure, but humans have to work twice as hard to gain their strength. That’s a hell of a lot more admirable than being born with it. I love Bronson Brown in particular, just my type, big, chunky, like Barry, but with more muscle than fat. I can’t ever imagine Barry carrying those marble balls around like they do in the show.

I’m now mentally picturing Barry as one of those visibly rotund Backpacker NPCs.

I don’t know how long I get lost in the show for, but the front door opens and I pause the TV. It’s Barry. I don’t even give him a chance to take his coat off before I run up and pull him into a tackle hug.

And then suddenly, for no reason at all, Barry had to go to the hospital for a spinal dislocation. /hj

I press my snout against his neck, nuzzling his skin, savouring his touch. He’s so warm. His tender hands snake along my back as we exchange kisses, nails lightly massaging me through my shirt. I pull back to get a good look at his face. I love everything about it from his mane of hair to his beard, brown with flecks of silver and gold, to that bulbous, pierced nose of his, which makes him look like a prized Tauros. My prized Tauros.

Huh, so Pokémon also do the whole “comparing love interests to things they have no interest romancing” that humans do. Duly noted.

Barry tries to pull me in for another kiss when our noses collide. It actually hurts, especially with that ring.

“Oh shit, sorry!” Barry says in between chuckles. “Are you alright?”

I massage the end of my snout. “I’ve taken worse hits.”

Glen: “Just kinda ruined the moment there, that’s all.”

“I can believe it.” He pulls me in again, carefully this time as he tilts his head to kiss me. Much better. I peck him back; he tastes like bubblegum, a taste I’ve gotten used to ever since he started vaping. We plop down on the settee, and I let the big lug scoop me in his arms like a Meowth.

I can’t imagine that these two’s nicotine habits help their finances at all, just saying. Though it’s a bit of an interesting contrast that Barry prefers to stick to vaping while Glen just straight-up wants his smokes.

We just stay in each other’s embrace, long enough that the TV’s screensaver turns on, giving us a postcard view of rural Motostoke. We don’t say anything, but neither of us need to. I don’t want the moment to end, yet I’m itching to tell Barry about our plans.

“How was work?” I ask.

Small nitpick about the quote mark there where you presumably want them to either both be italicized or both not.

“It’s whatever.” His eyes glaze over as they usually do whenever he talks about his day. “It’s report season, so you know how it is.”

I’m sorry, but what did you say you did again for a living, Barry?

I still don’t know what his charity does exactly, something about Pokemon trainer support programmes, but Barry’s been having panic attacks ever since he got promoted. It sucks that all I can do is give him moral support.

Ah, so Barry’s basically a social worker. I think.

“You… managing fine?”

“Yeah, I got everything done that I needed to.” He huffs. “Though my boss asked me to print off a bunch of stuff that nobody’s gonna read for some trustee meeting. It’s not even my job, y’know.”

“Isn’t this the same guy who doesn’t know how to take a screenshot or whatever the hell it’s supposed to be?”

“Uh huh.” He sighs. “Whatever. I got to listen to that Torterror album while I was on my laptop.”

Priorities!™ Even if it sounds like Barry should really be keeping an eye out for other jobs at this rate.

“It’s cool stuff, huh?”

“Hell yeah. Can’t wait to see them live.”

I smooch him again. It’s been ages since our last gig, so that’s something to look forward to at the end of this month.

Huh, is “gig” a Britishism for going to a concert? Since at first I thought they were talking about doing some sort of job together.

“Do you wanna tell me how work went today?” Barry asks, as if my response to that question ever changes. At least I have a good excuse to dance around the topic this time.

“The daycare called. Dex is coming around tomorrow.”

[ ]

“Oh shit.” Barry releases his grip and blinks. “That’s… really soon.”

I kinda wonder if Barry’s surprised reaction here would’ve been worth depicting in a bit more detail than what you did here, but that might just be a personal stylistic thing.

“He’s only coming here in the evening since I’m taking him to work. But I’d thought I’d warn you.”

“Okay.” Barry tugs at his beard hairs. “I guess I’ll try to cook something extra nice this time.”

“If you’re up for it. I want Dex to feel at home as much as he can.”

“Of course.”

The silence lasts long enough that the TV goes into sleep mode.

Glen: “So… uh… you’re sure this is all alright, Barry? Since you’re being kinda quiet right now.” ^^;

“I hope he likes me,” Barry says at last, chuckling. “As much as he could like a human dad.”

His words don’t match up with his casual tone.

Yeah, I had a feeling that something was ‘off’ about the mood right now.

“We talked about this,” I huff. “There’s no way of knowing how he’ll feel about it. Or how anyone would.”

Barry hums. He carries on pulling his beard until a whole clump of stubble lands in his palm. I try to stop him by taking his hand in mine, tracing my coarse, blistered fingers along his smooth skin. He digs his nails into my calloused palm.

Definitely quite a contrast between Glen’s daily manual labor and Barry’s office job there.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” I let the moment sit for a bit. “Look, I really want this. I want to bring a Machop into our world and give him the chances I never got. We could get him lessons if he wanted. Even if he gets saddled with a trainer or ends up working for some moving company, he’d still have something to come back to, y’know. We could really make this his own space too. He’d have his toys or his Nintendos or his punching bags or whatever.”

Oh, so Nintendo just straight-up exists in-setting. Which I suppose is on-brand with how it’s handled in official media, but it still made me do a double-take with all the bland-name products bandied about up to this point.

Barry hums in affirmation. “Yeah,”

“But…” I take a deep breath. “There’s still a chance to call it off. I’d rather not go into this if you’re having second thoughts.”

Reminder to keep the quotation mark formatting consistent. Though it sounds like it’s not just Barry who’s having some second thoughts about this idea here.

“No, it’s not that.” Barry tucks his hands in his lap, sitting upright. “I’d like to be a dad, y’know, staying home and all that. I think it’d be better for me, honestly, rather than being in the office.” He smirks. “I can’t imagine it’ll be much different from raising a little human.”

Famous last words, I can already tell.

We discussed adopting a human before, but there’s no way in hell that would happen between us. It would be easy to keep some wild, animal-like Pokemon as a pet, but comparing that to this situation is like comparing orans to nanabs.

“There’ll be some differences. Machop are a lot more full of piss and vinegar than the average kid.”

I’m surprised that Glen’s default conception of a “kid” is inherently human. Makes me wonder if there’s a specific term among Machoke for a child such that they’d never use that for a human child.

“Like a mini version of you?”

“Kinda.”

“Then I’m in.” Barry relaxes his shoulders. “I’d love a little Dex running around the flat.”

Careful what you wish for there, Barry…

“You might be eating your words when he gets here.” I pull him to my side. “I must’ve told you what happened with my old trainer.”

Barry leans into me. “Remind me.”

“We were rough-housing once and I punched him so hard in the stomach that he got sent to the hospital.”

I mean, at least Machop are smaller and theoretically would be less hazardous to roughhouse with?

[ ]

“Wow, that’ll teach me not to piss you off.”

“It was an accident, of course.”

“Still!”

This feels like another moment where it might’ve made sense to show off Barry’s reaction in a bit more detail than what you presently do here.

I smirk and pat his stomach. “Don’t worry, I like your belly too much to punch it.”

He giggles, not a nervous one this time, and warmth rushes through me. It makes me realise how much I’ve missed him today. I bet he’s needed this after his soul-sucking job too.

I kinda get the feeling that this is a two-way street, since Glen didn’t exactly sound super satisfied with his moving company job in the narration earlier on.

“So, what now?” I ask.

“Dinner would be good.” Barry groans. “Argh, I forgot to pop to the shops today. I’ll see what we have in the fridge if that’s fine, unless you want me to go into town right now.”

I suppress a sigh. Some milk would’ve been nice for a morning coffee tomorrow, but as far as Barry’s cooking goes, he could make wilted salad leaves taste like fine dining.

Oh, so Barry’s good at cooking. Or else that’s just the hearts in Glen’s eyes talking there.

“That’s fine. Just pick some stuff up before Dex gets here.”

“What about tonight?”

I shrug. “I’ve got no reason to doubt your cooking skills.”

“I could do a curry.”

“Awesome, I could definitely murder a curry.”

“Okay!” Barry kisses my hand. “I’ll get started, then.”

Whelp, that’s definitely a very SnS outcome there. Even if I kinda wonder if it’d have made sense to have shown Glen notice some sort of reaction on Barry’s part during some point of this exchange about dinner.

I watch the rest of my show as Barry whips something up. His curry’s bulked up with beef and leftover Pumkin chunks. I’m so lucky to share this with Barry. Hell, I’m lucky to share a lot of things with him, from the shows I like watching to those games of his I try to pick up, even if I’ve snapped more controllers than I can count.

I see that even Nintendium has limits considering how presumably the game consoles that Barry owns are all Nintendo ones.

As night creeps in and we settle down, I look at Barry, wrapped up in my arms, snoozing like a Snorlax. He’s asleep before I am since it takes a while for me to calm down from the day. It doesn’t help that I’ve got a lot to think about at the moment.

I’m admittedly not really sure how I feel about this one since we jumped ahead quite a bit time-wise and presumably to another place. It might have been worth doing some sort of hard scene cut, especially if we’re moving away from the TV and couch for this moment, but that’s just me.

No matter how many times we discuss it, prepare for it, the reality is that we’re in a human-Pokemon relationship. Everyone with a pulse knows it’s deviant; we know that more than anyone. Despite all that, we’re not going to hide our relationship from the Machop. That wouldn’t be fair to him even if, ideally, it doesn’t change a thing between us. Ultimately, he has to choose whether or not he wants to stay.

Well, I suppose that goes ahead and clears up how their relationship is seen by the outside world. Though interesting implication that Pokémon also look down on Pokémon x Human pairings in this setting. I wonder if this would’ve been worth foreshadowing a bit more earlier on though, especially if any of Glen’s coworkers know about his love life.

It’s a little risky, a bit risky, even. He can’t speak human yet, but word can still get out from Pokémon in other ways. If the daycare finds out about it and reports us, both of our jobs could be in jeopardy.

Oh, well. Scratch that, then. This is something that both of these two are hiding from the outside world. That suddenly puts the whole moment where Glen was freaking out about Hammer catching onto him adopting Dex in a new light.

Barry’s snores stop me in my tracks. That would annoy most people, but I’m not most people. I love his snoring. It shows that Barry’s this real, actual thing that’s lying beside me. He’s the only person on this big blue ball that sees me like I see myself. Not like a Machoke. Like a human.

I want the whole world to know what that feels like. I want Dex to know it too. I think of what our ideal day out would be like, maybe after a long week of tutoring Dex or working together at the Mach n’ Van.

Glen: “... Though maybe not right away given that the world’s very obviously not accepting of the thing that Barry and I have going on right now.”

We’d go to the park where Dex’ll be able to fight other Pokemon while me and Barry watch, not doing anything, not even touching shoulders, but just glad to be in the moment. Lunch doesn’t have to be fancy as it could just be a meal deal, but Barry’s dinner would make up for that, whatever he does. We’d either watch a film, play some games, whether that’s on a tabletop or a screen, or even noodle around with Barry’s instruments together.

Wait, Barry has musical instruments? I didn’t see any mention of that up to this point in the story.

I have to keep that feeling close to me, no matter what tomorrow brings.

Yeeeeeah, I can already tell that you’re going to need it, Glen.

Alright, took a little longer than I’d have liked, but that’s the first chapter of 3 under my belt. But I thought that this was a pretty fun introduction to Glen and his world, and it does a pretty good job at getting into the head of a non-human character who has to work a dead-end menial job. I could tell that you were having a lot of fun with building out your setting and its dynamics for way that Pokémon and humans relate to each other, and especially Glen’s dynamic where he’s in a taboo relationship with Barry and has to constantly tread on eggshells to avoid it coming out. It’s pulled off in a pretty believable fashion and strikes a pretty decent balance between telling us enough to get a general idea of what’s going on without being infodumpy.

There’s not too much that stood out to me for things that I thought were worth critiquing. It was mostly a couple of parts where I wish you had slowed down and been a bit more generous for details. Some of it was setting-related details such as what Glen’s car is (e.x. I kinda expected it to be some beater hatchback, given the general vibe Glen’s life gives off, but it’s not explicitly stated), while others were moments where I thought that showing off a bit more character reaction would’ve been worthwhile, especially since the narration is from Glen’s perspective and little things like how Barry’s reactions change might affect his thought process a bit. But those are all fairly small things and might be veering off a bit into “if I’d been the one writing this” territory.

Good stuff, @NebulaDreams . I’ll admit, I raised a brow a bit at the premise at first, but you seem to have made it work decently well in this first chapter. I’ll be looking forward to seeing where things go over the next couple chapters. ^^

 

[Spiteful Murkrow]

Heya, I’m about to get swamped with a reading event in the coming days, so I figured it was as good a time as any to swoop in for that second post-Review Blitz prize review out of three from my end:

Chapter 2

Spoiler: Line-by-Line

I sneak in three cigarettes before I reach Fairweather Daycare. The layout’s not too dissimilar from the Mach n’ Van base as there’s a large building overlooking a field where Pokemon can roam, though the daycare part resembles more of a school than a house as it’s all blocky stone and concrete. I can’t see Dex in the scuffle of Pokemon playing in the grass, though from what I’ve gathered, he prefers staying indoors.

Huh, wouldn’t have expected that from a Machop. Wonder if there’s a reason behind why he’s an “indoors” ‘mon.

I take a deep breath. This day could go many different ways, especially once he meets Barry. Am I ready for this? I don’t even know if I’d be a good replacement dad. My hand reaches for my pocket, and I almost light up when I catch the reflection of the booster seat strapped in the back.

We bought that thing just for today; second-hand, but still, it’s proof we’ve made a commitment. Dex wouldn’t want to be stuck in my car all day with smoke clinging everywhere. So I think of our future day out again as I stuff the pack of Numels in the glovebox, and head out.

Yeah, I can already tell that Barry’s not going to be able to resist going for his smokes in front of Dex later on. Though I see that once again, the idea of putting Dex in a Pokéball is treated as a complete non-starter. I wonder if there’s something about how they work in this setting that Pokémon find off-putting.

I’m still surprised by how colourful the daycare’s insides are. The walls are candy-coloured slabs of red and blue, where murals of big, four-legged Pokemon chase each other along the plaster. I’d be fooled into thinking this was a play park for humans if it wasn’t for the humanoid Pokemon wrestling each other in an area covered with padded mats.

So… are those Pokémon Glarian Ponyta, or…? :V

“You hit like a girl,” a Tyrogue yells while he’s hanging upside down.

“I am a girl, moron!” a Pancham yells back as she’s about to suplex the kid.

The rest don’t stop them, in fact, they’re egging them on. There’s no sign of Dex anywhere.

Ah yes, definitely a very “Fighting-type” mood given that exactly nobody is worried about the kids throwing down like this. :p

My pocket’s screaming for attention. I shouldn’t feel uncomfortable here already. This is normal. This is what fighting types do. They fight. We did this for fun back home. But even some run of the mill rough-housing feels so alien to me now.

Right, because something happened to Glen such that his ability to fight has been compromised. I wonder if the specifics of whatever that is is going to wind up coming out in this chapter.

I don’t have long to dwell on it as the Tyrogue’s feet slip from the Pancham’s grasp, and his head thunks against the floor.

I wince. That foam sure didn’t protect him from the fall. Blimey, the Tyrogue’s in tears now, and so’s the Pancham. The human caretaker, Maisie, pops out of the other room with an Arcanine following after her. She’s about to dash into the scuffle when she spots me.

And there’s the little kid behavior that I was expecting from a Day Care there. Guess that even Fighting-types aren’t immune to having their inner 5-year old equivalents get tripped from being smacked around.

“Shoot,” she mutters. “S’more, could you deal with this, please?”

The Arcanine rolls his eyes and breaks up the group of Pokemon. Maisie approaches me with an outstretched hand.

>S’more

That’s quite the name for an Arcanine there. Though given that they’re also warm and soft, I suppose that that’s still apt for a name in a way.

“Hey, Glen!” Maisie greets, smiling even with puffy eyes, “you chose a good time to stop by.”

‘puffy eyes’, huh? I wonder if that means she’s been having allergies.

I stare down for a moment. I’m always wary whenever I go for a handshake, since some humans aren’t aware of my strength, but I’ve done this enough times to handle a simple greeting.

“Don’t sweat it.” I extend mine to her, but I let her shake it. “I bet this is what you have to deal with on a daily basis anyway.”

Oh, so Glen’s crushed someone’s hand in the past before, huh?

“Yeah. It’s never a dull day for us.” She laughs, though it’s a little strained. “Are you just here to take Dex?”

Well then, nevermind that comment about allergies. Clearly something else is going on here.

“Uh huh.”

“Then follow me to the gym.”

She walks me through the daycare to a lounge area where two Pokemon, a Hitmontop and Gothita, playing a fighting game on a TV. I recognise the characters: one’s a half-human, half-Purrloin, the other’s a bipedal Luxray, both throwing special moves at each other.

Wait, is this a Bloody Roar knockoff, or-

“They’re still making PokeMorphs games?” I ask.

“Huh? Oh, that. I guess so!”

>PokeMorphs

I snerked. Cute way of working that into your setting there.

She lets out another strained laugh. Figures she wouldn’t know what I’m talking about. Maybe Barry’s nerdiness is rubbing off on me.

Glen: “Um, Maisie? Are you okay, or…?” .-.
Maisie: “I’m… fine, really.”

Next, we tiptoe through a soft room where Pokémon sleep on beanbags and cushions. The ones that are just chilling throw me a few odd looks. I’m used to it, especially going around in my clothes.

Huh, so Pokémon in clothes isn’t seen as normal in-setting. I wonder what the connotations of going around in clothes for an average Pokémon are in that case.

Maisie leads me outside the exercise room, but stops just before we turn the corner.

“So, Glen, are you ready for Dex’s big day out?”

“Of course.”

“Good, he’s been looking forward to seeing you.” Her cheery expression fades as she looks me up and down.

Glen: “... (Okay, what on earth is that look supposed to mean?)”

“Something the matter?”

“No, no, it’s–” she sighs. “Never mind. I know he’s in good hands. Just wish there was more I could do to help.”

Oh, so Maisie’s going to miss Dex after he leaves, huh? Since I kinda get the vibe that she’s been crying a bit before Glen arrived.

A daycare’s a stopgap for trainers to drop off their Pokémon, not a home. That’s the whole reason I’m here. Before I can think of some way to reassure her, that Arcanine rushes in, his coat all unkempt.

“First aid!” he says in his own tongue. From the drop in Maisie’s posture, she knows exactly what he meant.

Oh boy, those kids in the other room are really getting out of hand there.

“Nuts,” she says. “Glen, go in there without me.”

Maisie rushes off, leaving me with my own thoughts.

This daycare isn’t a terrible place for Pokemon, but Dex probably doesn’t know anybody here since daycare Pokemon don’t linger for long, except the rentals. If Dex runs out of options, then he’ll probably need to become a rental Pokemon too.

I… take it that that’s not seen as a good thing normally to be a rental Pokémon in this setting. I wonder if we’ll run into any since it sounds like they have a bit of a raw deal from the sort of tone that Glen’s taking towards them in his thoughts.

The world doesn’t make it easy for Pokemon to live without a trainer. It took me ages to find my place in it, and I had to figure out what that was on my own. I’m not gonna put Dex through what I went through.

Oh, there’s a story behind this one, I can already tell.

There’s all sorts of equipment dotted around the gym’s floor: punching bags, weights, even a couple of treadmills, and Dex is pounding a training dummy right in the middle of the room. He doesn’t notice me as I step inside, though I’m just curious to watch his moves. I don’t know what that dummy did to hurt him but the little Machop’s just whaling on it. He only stops when the dummy falls flat on its back, thudding against the linoleum, and Dex has to take a few deep breaths, buckling to his knees.

If Glen’s story about Dex’s background was right… uh… I’m pretty sure that this is some form of venting Dex’s grief in live-time right now.

I wait for him to catch his breath, but he keeps panting, past the point that I can chalk it up to tiring himself out.

“Hey,” I call, stepping in.

Dex turns. His eyes look redder than a Machop’s usually should. Words fail me, so I sit with him, giving Dex as long as he needs to get back up to speed. Work can wait.

Yeah, I feel pretty good about that prediction that this is some sort of attempt by Dex to manage his feelings of grief right now.

He falls back to steady breaths and stands back up, at eye level with me. He seems calm, though his body’s still tense, like whatever’s bothering him has its claws hooked deep into his spine. Then he bounces on his feet, raising his fists.

I back away, worried he’s about to give me a knuckle sandwich until he flashes a smile, still in his battle stance. Maybe the kid just wants to playfight. I know Dex’ll feel better for it, even if I’m not rushing to school a Machop, so I hold my hands out like a boxing coach. Dex responds with one punch, then a one-two punch. One, one-two, one, one-two. Then he stops and nurses his hands.

Glen: “Er… are you not having fun, Dex, or…?” .-.

“I was tryin’ to say hi,” he finally says.

Now I get it. That’s the greeting we used in our dwelling: one punch was what they used to start a conversation, and a one-two punch meant ‘hello’. It’s a way for us fighting types to talk without words, something I forgot long ago.

Ah yes, Fighting-type communication. Even if I wonder how universal this is or if attempting a one-two punch on something like a Lucario would be interpreted as something very different from a ‘hello’.

“Sh–” I trail off–“oot. Sorry, kid.”

“It’s okay.” Dex glares outside the gym. “Nobody here knows anyway.”

Can’t tell if this is a quirk of Machop line Pokémon, or if it’s specifically a quirk of wild Machop line Pokémon. Since it did make me raise my brow as to how an entire Day Care full of Fighting-types wouldn’t pick up on this, but then I realized that they’re likely all from trained/captive backgrounds.

“But I can learn. Or relearn.” I shrug. “So how’s it going?”

“Okay, I guess. Just bored. I don’t like it here.”

“They’re treating you alright?”

[ ]


“Yeah, but… I dunno. Everyone’s so loud here.”

[ ]


“Well, we’ve got a full day today.” I offer a hand. “We’ll start out at the Mach n’Van, and you can see what it’s like working there. You’ll see plenty of Circhester in between.” I pause, figuring out how to introduce him to Barry. “Then we’ll have dinner at my place. Anything you fancy?”

I feel like this section was getting a bit ‘talking heads’ in nature. It might have been worth putting in a couple lines of description, especially if Glen’s noticing anything about Dex’s reaction that’s tipping him off as to something being up.

Dex’s eyes gleam. “Anythin’?”

“Yeah. I dunno, did they do any cooking in your dwelling?”

He glares at me. “How else would we eat stuff?”

Another faux pas. Man, I am out of my depth here.

Wait, wild Machoke have dwellings and can cook? Or was that all just a cover story from Glen last chapter?

“Bunnelby stew,” Dex continues. “My… parents hunted them. They hunted a lot. But Bunnelby stew’s my favourite. With onions. Master Pillar grew a lot of vegetables.”

The pained look on his face twists my stomach. He’s already told me about his parents, who died on a big hunt, quite carelessly from the sounds of it as they liked to throw themselves into danger. Typical fighting types. It’s beyond me who Master Pillar is, but that’s a good conversation to have later.

Okay, nevermind. They were wild. Probably. Maybe. Makes me wonder what their wild life even looks like based on these details here. Though I can already tell that Master Pillar was a Conkeldurr.

“We can do Bunnelby stew. With onions.”

Dex stares at my hand a moment longer, and finally shakes it before following me out of the daycare. He doesn’t say bye to anyone on the way, and Maisie only gives a thumbs up as she’s applying a potion on a bruised Pokemon, so I take Dex straight to the car. I sit in the front seat, but Dex doesn’t follow. What’s he doing out there? I open the side he’s supposed to enter.

“I’ve never been in a car before,” he says.

Right. I shouldn’t have taken that for granted.

Glen: “They really just took you out of the wild just the other day, huh?” .-.

“Just climb up to the booster seat and I’ll strap you in.”

Dex takes to it well enough, and I lean from the front to fasten his seatbelt. He paws at the leather strap.

“This feels weird,” he says.

“It’ll feel weird, yeah, but it’s for your own safety. You’ll go flying out the window otherwise.”

Dex: “And that’s a bad thing why? Dad got run over by a van once and he got up fine again right afterwards!”

Glen: “(Wait, that actually happened with others?)” .-.

Dex tries to make himself comfortable as I start the drive. I don’t think Dex is quite ready for my music, so I stick the radio on. Not that Dex is paying much attention to the cheesy pop song on there since he’s gazing out the window. Don’t tell me you’re bored already, kid.

“How’d you get a car?” Dex says, eyes fixed on the farmland that whizzes past our view. “Aren’t those for humans?”

Well, I suppose that that’s one way to tell that Dex is really new to life outside the wild given that he didn’t pick up on stuff like this even from the Day Care.

… Assuming that he didn’t just keep to himself in a corner with that punching bag the entire time.

That sort of question would piss me off coming from a human, but of course a Machop like him would be curious. “Well, I learned to drive a while ago, just for work, then I earned enough to buy this beaut.” I pat the wheel with pride.

“But how? I didn’t know we could do that.”

“A human taught me.”

Was that Barry’s doing there, or…?

That satisfies Dex for now. Good. I don’t fancy reliving that chapter of my life, though it wasn’t all bad. Maybe I owe Terry a text; he’d like to see how far I’ve come.

Well, not Barry confirmed. Though yeah, I can already tell that Glen’s life has been quite a saga given how there’s multiple portions of it that he’s not particularly fond of.

“Why would I wanna learn how to drive?”

I hum in reply. I never stopped to think about it too deeply; it’s just second nature to me. I take in the scenery before me. The air from the parted window gently blows across my face. The road opens up to a far-away view of Circhester’s sandstone buildings, and clouds of many different shades of grey line the sky.

You have a doubled newline here which I assume wasn’t intentional since I don’t see you doing that anywhere else so far.

“I didn’t have much choice at the time, but I got a real taste for it. I travelled all through Galar, saw things that would make you weep, listened to a lot of good music, stopped at some really good eateries on the way too.”

I think about all the humans I hooked up with on the way, but Dex doesn’t need to know that, and it’s ancient history now. What happens on the road stays on the road.

Oh, so Glen’s been into humans well before Barry, huh? I wonder if that’s related at all to how he’s been taking to human behaviors such as wearing clothes and driving.

“More than that, though,” I continue, “I felt free.”

“Free?”

“Yeah. You could wait for flying taxis or trains to herd you around, but going places on your own is a whole different beast.”

And then you get stuck in a traffic jam on the motorway and that freedom goes right back out the window.

Dex pauses, taking his sight away from the window.

“Do I have to learn to drive too if I wanna stay with you?”

“Don’t be daft.” I sigh. The kid doesn’t even realise how much freedom he has as a Pokémon. All he’s known is the path laid out for him by his parents and trainers, just like I used to. “That’s the point, you can choose what you want to do. It’s your life.”

Since I can already tell that Glen should’ve been a bit more careful with his wording there.

“My life.” Dex turns to the window again. We’re stuck in traffic since we’ve reached central Circhester again. I’m definitely late. Oh well, might as well soak in the scenery.

Well, that freedom while driving sure didn’t last long there. ^^;

On the main street, that Toxtricity busker noodles on a guitar plugged into his chest with crocodile clips. He gets lots of weird stares from humans, not that the busker usually picks a great time to practise his riffs, but Dex leans against the window, smearing his hands against the glass.

“Woah!” Dex’s eyes gleam. This is the first time he's brightened up like this. “He’s good!”

“You like that?”

“Yeah! It’s kind of like what Master Pillar plays, but weirder and cooler!”

… Maybe I spoke a bit soon about Master Pillar being a Conkeldurr. Not sure, really.

“And this Master Pillar is?”

“She’s a Conkeldurr. Master Pillar makes guitars and stuff.”

Oh well, never mind. I was right about who Master Pillar would be.

[ ]

“So music runs in the dwelling?”

“Not really, just her. But she plays all these old tunes. I like it but I wish it was more like this.” He smiles at me. “Can it go any louder?”

I kinda feel like it might have made sense to show Glen reacting a bit more to Dex’s reveal that his old home’s leader had a thing for music, since it might have been a vehicle for showing off what was normal for wild Machop and their evos or else how much Glen is aware of it.

I roll Dex’s window down so he can better hear the busker. The way he bobs his head to the Toxtricity’s strumming reminds me of being in the mosh pit. I have a good feeling I’ll love Dex.

As we drive, Dex regales me with tales back home of Master Pillar. She showed the kid how to make a guitar from pieces of driftwood and Spinarak silk, and temporarily took care of Dex when his folks passed away, just before he got sent off for his rite of passage as a Machop. I think Barry would be glad to hear Dex is a dab hand at instruments too.

Well, I can already tell what’s going to become a plot point later on in this story, since I’m sure that Dex still expects to do that at some point.

I take extra care up the slope leading up to the base. I wouldn’t usually think about the ‘Stantler X’ing’ signs on each side of the road, but since Dex is with me, I’m on extra alert. Damn feral Pokemon. Fortunately, the home stretch passes with ease. As I pull into the driveway, the eyes of the whole Mach n’ Van team burn into me through the window.

“They look mad,” Dex says.

“Because I’m late.”

Boy I sure hope that these guys don’t make their living on commission, since otherwise that’s going to sting everyone’s pocketbook there.

“Oh. Sorry.”

“Don’t sweat it. Besides, they’ll change their tune when they see you.”

I get out of the car and face the music.

“This anklebiter better be worth holding us up,” Hammer grumbles.

Dex: “... I thought you said that they’d change their tune…”

Glen: “Give them a little bit to warm up to you.”

“He will be.” I undo Dex’s seatbelt, setting him loose. He stares at the team, and they stare back with varying degrees of curiosity.

“Hey, lil fella,” Hammer says, waving all four hands. He gets down on his knees and holds out his fists, which Dex pounds, one, one-two. Their conversation gets lost in the flurry of punches, but by the end of their ‘chat’, both Hammer and Dex are full of smiles.

Well, I see that Hammer is definitely good with kids there. TBD if the rest of the Mach ‘N Van gang is as well.

I should be thanking Hammer for handling that well, but something about that exchange touches a nerve. What does he know that I don’t? I try to park that as best as I can.

I mean, he can still actively fight and you can’t, so…

“What’s your name?” Hammer asks.

“Dex. We say it like–” Dex bats Hammer’s side with the flat of his right hand. That, I recognise: useful, handy, dexterous. Hammer repeats the same gesture.

Oh, so Machop have a whole language built around punches and strikes. That actually feels pretty fitting given how they’re basically an entire species of bodybuilders.

“Dex, I’ll try not to work you to the bone today, but we’ve got a couple of places to move stuff to,” Hammer says, gesturing He gestures to the rest of the crew. “You won’t be alone, though. I bet Glen’ll help you out too.”

It’s a bit nitpicky, but I think it’s probably worth explicitly saying that Hammer is the one speaking up here given that you have multiple ‘he’s in proximity to each other here.

Hammer throws me a particularly smug look. It would get on my nerves any other day, but I need to act like a good role model for Dex.

“Sure, I’ll help.”

“Good. Now can we move it before we get our butts kicked for being late?”

That would be wise, really, since those reviews y’all got yesterday were likely brutal and I can’t imagine that you need to murder your Yelp reviews even moreso.

I can’t agree more. Everyone gathers inside the van and I bring the booster seat so Dex can sit in the back with the rest of the crew. It’s only fair to him so he has company, and it doesn’t turn too many heads, though Hammer gives me another one of his funny looks like he’s trying to find out all my secrets.

Wait, implying that Hammer gives those sorts of looks on a regular basis? ^^;

It’s hard to contribute to the crew’s conversation while I’m driving, but it all sounds cordial enough. I hear slithers of questions directed towards Dex and where he came from, and Dex asks questions of his own. Rip talks Dex’s ears off about his fledgling boxing career, and one Machoke who’s just visiting for the week tells him that he’s working at the Mach n’ Van while his trainer’s seeing his family. From Dex’s low tone, it hits a little close to home, but Hammer changes the subject and asks if Dex has anything else planned with me today.

“He says we’ll have Bunnelby stew at his place.”

Glen: “Wait, Dex, don’t just go and-”

“Sounds good!” Hammer says. “I do a mean stew myself, though stir fries are my favourite. Have you ever had noodles before?”

“What are noodles?”

“They’re made of wheat, kind of like pasta. They’re pretty popular in Kanto, and you can cook ‘em in all sorts of sauces.”

“Sounds cool.”

“They are! Heck, I could do it sometime if you wanted.”

I kinda wonder if there should’ve been some sort of reaction or inner thought from Glen’s part here, since this feels a bit ‘talking heads’ in nature there.

They’re getting along just fine. I dare say, Hammer’s more of a dad than me, which isn’t great news. It’s a good thing we’re just about to stop at our first pickup so they don’t get too chummy yet.

You have another set of extra newlines in front of this block. Consider cutting them down a bit.

“We’re almost here,” I say. “Get ready, all of you.”

We stop outside a block of flats situated just outside the city centre. Thankfully it’s a ground floor flat, and it’s already nicer than mine by virtue of having a garden, though the grass is all overgrown. It’s a lot roomier as well if the size of the window is any indication. I buzz the doorbell and wait for our client to come out, but nobody answers. I press it a few more times. Still no dice.

Hammer: “... They didn’t forget that we were coming right now, did they?”

“For fu–” I stop as soon as I remember Dex is behind me. I don’t think his innocent Pokemon ears can comprehend swears yet, let alone the human language. Whatever, I’ll just ring whoever we’re supposed to be moving stuff for.

“Mmm?” a Pokemon’s voice bellows.

“It’s the Mach n’ Van service. We’ve been outside for, like, five minutes.”

Oh? Another Pokémon living on their own here?

Stomps resound from inside the flat, and the front door swings open to reveal a headphone-wearing Snorlax that takes up the whole freaking door frame. She’s wearing a crumb-encrusted Pokemon Unite shirt, probably owed to the massive Pokemunch crisp packet stuck to her paw. I don’t know what the phone’s doing in her other claw.

I’ll take that as a confirmation. Though I suppose that would explain a thing or two about how it took five minutes to wake her up with the doorbell.

“Hey.” She yawns. “You were late, so I just took a nap.”

“Sorry about that.” I can’t blame her for being, well, a Snorlax. “Is everything sorted?”

“Yeah. A human cleaner came by earlier.”

Um… yeah, I’m going to take the under on the place still being clean given that she has literal crumbs all over herself right now.

I’d like to ask if she owns the place, and how she can afford it on top of a cleaner as a Pokemon. Quite frankly, I’m jealous as hell, but I’ve worked this job long enough to not let that consume me. “Thank you, we’ll take care of it from here.”

“Cool. Do you mind if I stream this?”

Well, I suppose that answers how on earth the narcoleptic bear can afford a better place than Glen. And why the yard outside is a veritable jungle.

Oh, now it makes sense. I turn to the rest of our crew. Save for Dex, who probably thinks she’s talking about a narrow river, everyone else shrugs. “Go for it.”

She turns around and waddles indoors. “Wow, chat’s really popping off right now. Oh, someone donated. Thanks. You get one gold star. Someone’s asking…”

Dex: “Um… Glen? What on earth is she doing?”

Glen: “Just… don’t worry about it. I’ll explain after the job.” -_-;

Her voice trails off as she disappears into her flat. We follow in after her and split the work into teams. Me and Dex handle the bedroom’s boxes, mostly lamps, a Tangela-looking monstrosity of bunched-up wires, plushies and all sorts of nerdy paraphernalia.

I’d say that I’m surprised that she’s letting the moving company handle all this, but then I remembered that she’s a Snorlax and of course she wouldn’t be active enough to take care of her own plushes and effects.

“Do I just pick up one of these?”

He goes for the box containing a beefy tower of a desktop computer. He has a difficult time lifting it, not that I can blame him as it’s half his size.

“It’s not too heavy, is it?” I ask.

Um, Glen. This sounds like a recipe for Dex to lose his grip and drop the computer tower down a set of stairs, just saying.

“No. I can’t grip it. Sorry, it’s–”

I step in before the kid panics, and kneel down to take the burden off his hands. “You just have to grab both corners and keep it tucked to your chest. Don’t use too much of your back or you’ll strain it. Got it?”

Glen, I just want to remind you that this is Dex’s first moving job ever and that computer tower in all likelihood is worth multiple weeks’ worth of your salary.

He manages this time, though he can just barely see as the box almost covers his face. “Now what?”

“Follow me.”

I take my time, lifting another box to demonstrate. I’m worried he’ll trip and fall, but he follows my lead, and moves his first box from the flat into the van.

“Did I do good?” he asks.

I mean, so far, at least. I’ll admit, I was expecting that to turn out a lot worse than it did.

“Yeah.” I don’t let him bask in his own glory too much as there’s more work to do. “One down, plenty more to go.”

<><><>


The job goes smoothly with him around. Dex is the type of Machop I like working with. He keeps his head down, does his job, and asks the right questions, unlike some Machoke who’ve shadowed me before, either whining about too much work or wasting my time with inane bullshit like whichever team’s winning the Galar League Championships.

A part of me wonders whether or not it would’ve made sense to put in a hard scene break here given that there’s a bit of a skip ahead in time.

The work for the next couple of hours goes smoothly. We don’t make too much small talk with our client once we finish the job, as the Snorlax is content to take a nap in her new, nicer apartment in the city centre. It works well for us since it’s lunchtime, and the nearest Gremms isn’t too far from here so I don’t even have to move the van.

>Gremms

I wonder what sort of fare that place serves.

“How’d you feel about that, Dex?” I ask as we walk through Circhester’s streets. “Hopefully it wasn’t too boring picking up those boxes.”

“I like it,” Dex chirps. “It’s not like fightin’, but it’s nice. And I’m helpin’ too.”

Glen: “(Well, I suppose that’s a sign that things are finally looking up for him.)”

“Some real weird client, though,” Hammer says. “I asked her what she does and she told me she films herself sleeping, eating, or playing those computer games. I’d love to get paid to do that.”

Ah yes, Hammer being an audience surrogate for us all right now.

“What, and laze around all day?” Rip grumbles. “That sounds lame.”

You know, I should be a lot less surprised that a species of bodybuilders would find the prospect of lazing around constantly a recipe for going stir-crazy. Unless that’s just Rip’s opinion there.

“She was talkin’ to herself a lot,” Dex says. “And what’s she eatin’?”

“They’re dried potato snacks,” I reply. “You’ll get to try them some day. We’re heading somewhere you can get them right now.”

Huh. So Dex has never eaten potato chips up to this point. A little surprised given how often Pokémon wind up eating human food in the anime, but I suppose it makes sense that a Day Care owner would try to err away from junk food.

We enter the automatic doors to the takeaway food kiosk. To me and the rest of the crew, it’s cheap food that fills our guts. Dex, however, seems awestruck with how much choice there is since he’s standing in the middle of the queue without realising it. I gently move him to the sandwich aisle.

“So humans just come here and get ‘em?” he asks.

“And some Pokemon.” Aside from our crew who takes their time picking what they want, there’s a suited-up Inteleon with a briefcase who walks out the door with a takeaway coffee. “Though we still have to pay for them.”

At first I thought that that was that one Inteleon from Gathering Moss again, but right. That one had a raincoat, not a suit.

“I know that.” He looks at all the shelves chock full of pasties and pastries. “But this is so much stuff. This could feed everyone back home.”

He’s got a point; add that to the list of things I take for granted. “None of it gets wasted. Now what do you want? My treat for your hard work.”

Lol. Lmao. Perhaps it’s different out in Europe, but at least in the US, corporate chains related to selling food are kinda infamous for food waste.

“Really?” He perks back up. “Um, I dunno, you pick!”

He trusts me. I give him the lot: a BLT, an oran smoothie and even throw in a leppa-flavoured Wyndon bun. As we eat in a small park outside, I watch Dex tear into his sandwich. I don’t expect him to be blown away by it, but his eyes glisten with each bite he takes, doubly so as he demolishes his dessert.

TIL what a ‘London Bun’ is. Cute adaptation to make it fit in with Galar there.

“Not too bad, huh?” I say, in between bites of my coronation sandwich.

Also learned what ‘coronation chicken’ is as well. You really do a good job at making your take on Galar feel convincingly British there.

“Mine didn’t come with a fork,” Rip says, staring at his pasta.

[ ]


“Don’t you eat with your hands?” Dex asks.

“After they’ve touched that Snorlax’s grubby settee? No way.”

Oh, so Rip does eat with his hands normally. :V

I do wonder if it’d have been worth showing off Dex’s puzzled or befuddled reaction a bit more explicitly than you presently do, but that’s just me.

“Your fork’sth in the packathing,” Hammer says in the middle of chewing his Turffish pasty. He’s got such an annoying habit of talking with his mouth full.

inb4 he gets food particles on Glen in about five seconds.

“Right, boss. Swear I was going nuts.”

“They don’t make it easy to find, though,” I say.

“No kidding. Say, Dex, want some?”

“Sure!”

… Wait, when did Rip actually get the fork out during this whole sequence anyways? ^^;

Dex eagerly takes a bite of Rip’s pine nut pasta. Group lunches aren’t uncommon for us, but I usually eat in silence or use our time off as an excuse to go for a smoke. Somehow, with Dex around, I feel at ease eating with the crew. It doesn’t hurt that the sun’s come out now and this park’s not too shabby with a nice view of the water fountain in the centre.

When was the last time me and Barry just took a stroll around this area? Not since before his promotion. And there’s a guy walking past that looks suspiciously like…

Shit, it’s Barry. He takes out his headphones, but doesn’t wave at me. He just stares.

Glen: “... (Gods, Barry, of all the times to stop and notice me right now…)”

I want to come up and hug him. I want him to tell me about his work day so far and share lunch with me since I know he’s on his break. I want to treat him to a coffee to help him get through his shitty job. But I can’t. Not in front of my team.

I’ll admit, that I wasn’t expecting that to be Glen’s thought process since he vibed as more “on edge” after realizing that he was seeing Barry. I kinda wonder if some of this “I want to come up and hug him” should bleed into his earlier thought process before the “crap, we’re not supposed to be seen together”-ness kicks in.

How do I play it off? Do I just wave at him and pretend he’s a friend? That would be a lie. But this whole relationship we have is built around lying to everyone. I’ll do it. I’m raising my hand.

I mean, you can just play it off as Barry looking like someone you thought you knew-

“Look at that weirdo staring at us,” Hammer snarls.

… or not.

“Shut the hell up, Hammer,” I snap.

That turns everyone’s heads. Shit, I shouldn’t have said that. Now everyone’s looking at me like I’m the weirdo. Even Dex. Seeing him confused and afraid at something I’ve said makes my heart drop down to my stomach.

Smooth, Glen.

“I, I mean–” I stammer, trying to salvage my outburst somehow–”shut up, Hammer. Maybe that weirdo won’t notice us if we don’t say anything. That’s what I meant.”

It’s a shit excuse, but that doesn’t matter as Barry’s disappeared, probably gone back to work. I really hope he didn’t see me acting out like that, but now he’s gone, our team should be the way it was before, right?

Glen: “(Oh boy, tonight’s going to be awkward back at the flat, I can already tell.)”

“Yeah.” Hammer’s smile doesn’t entirely reach his eyes. “You’re right. Good thinking, Glen.”

Hammer knows that something’s up, doesn’t he?

The rest of our lunch passes in silence. I try to chalk it up to soaking in the park’s serenity, but the quiet continues in the van on the way to our next pickup. Not even the radio can fill it.

Glen: “(I’m never going to hear the end of this, am I?)”

I know I screwed up. The crew knows it. Dex knows it too since he’s not his usual, curious self. Never before have I so badly craved a cigarette. It’s the longest I’ve been without one in a while, just a few hours. But the pack’s back in my own car. I can’t just stop at the nearest shop and get some more as a Pokemon.

Huh, so cigarettes are illegal to sell to Pokémon in this setting? Or am I missing a step here for what Glen’s getting at?

My clammy hands slip on the leather wheel. I’m such an idiot. There were so many other ways that could’ve played out. I should’ve known he’d cross by that park at noon. I should’ve just said ‘hi’, or not acknowledged him at all, or at the very least not swear at Hammer.

I take deep breaths, one two, one two. It’s okay. The moment will pass when we start our next job. The crew will forget once they start packing boxes, I’ll bury my frustration in my work as I always do, I’ll say sorry, then we can put it behind us.

Glen, the fact that you’re thinking about this this much is a sign that you’re hugely tempting fate and things aren’t just going to blow over like you hope.

It’s not long before we reach the other pickup: a semi-detached house in one of the central neighbourhoods. The family that greets us, the dad, mum and their two sons, look like they’re ripped from a postcard, all full of smiles. Even their Boltund’s a ray of goddamn sunshine, sitting on his hindquarters while he lolls his tongue.

“Hey, nice to finally meet you!” the woman greets. “I’ve heard so many good things about Mach n’ Van!”

I’m honestly a little surprised that it’s not the Boltund who’s first to make a comment here, but I suppose that might be a bit hard with your tongue halfway out your mouth.

“Good. We won’t disappoint, ma’am.” From her vice-like grip to her smart-casual clothes, I feel like she’s about to sell us her own house. “Is everything ready?”

“Have you two packed all your toys?” she asks her pre-teen kids who nod in unison. Has she brainwashed the little runts or something?

inb4 they’re twins and have that whole “twin telepathy” thing going on.

“Crap,” her husband pipes up, dressed in a Circhester Football Club jersey, “I left my phone on charge in the house.”

“Harold, go get it before we leave it behind,” the woman commands.

“Yes, ma’am!”

He rushes back in. That’s another minute or two before we can get a move on. The Boltund approaches Dex. Dex recoils as if he’s preparing for a fight. I’d do the same if a freaking thunderbolt-flinging hound sized me up.

Well, I have a feeling I know who calls the shots in this household from that exchange.

“Yes, yes, Machop!” he greets, extending his paw. “Give my ears a good scritch!”

Oh, so the Boltund is going to speak. He’s definitely a gregarious one there.

Dex cautiously brings his hand up to the Boltund’s head, and chuckles as the Boltund grunts under his grasp. I kneel down and scritch his other ear, hoping it scores some Dad points in Dex’s eyes. The fur feels what I’d imagine TV static to feel like. Dex glances at me briefly, and smiles before he turns his attention back to the loyal little doggy.

I take it that Glen’s too young to have encountered a CRT back in the day, huh? Since just saying, you can literally feel static electricity on their tube surfaces if a small film of dust has built up.

We don’t have too long before the dad comes out and we can start doing our job. The crew don’t even look at me as they enter the house. I turn to Dex, who stops stroking the Boltund to massage his hand.

“You can join them if you want,” I say. “I can handle the other boxes myself.”

“It’s okay,” Dex says. “I’ll help you.”

D’aww… I mean, sure Glen has a bunch of stuff going on in his life right now, but I suppose this is a sign that Dex is warming up to him.

So I haven’t pissed him off yet. Good. We start with the kids’ bedroom, clearing out boxes of plushie Pokemon and clothes. [ ]

“Don’t you like Hammer?” Dex asks.

I freeze, almost dropping the two boxes I’m carrying. “It’s not that.”

I feel like there’s something missing in that description before Dex asks about Hammer, but I’m having a bit of trouble putting my finger on what specifically.

“Then why’d you shout at him?”

I take a deep breath and set the boxes aside.

“Look. It’s complicated. Me and Hammer have been working together for a while, and sometimes he gets on my nerves. I’m sure you have people like that in your life.”

… Glen, just saying, I’m pretty sure this is a fantastic way to get Dex thinking of his dead parents again.

“Maybe.” Dex puts his box aside too and rubs his shoulder. “But he wasn’t doing anythin’ wrong. That human was weird.”

I’m not going to be short with Dex, as annoyed as I am by the whole situation. “Alright, this will all make sense later. Can you trust me on this?”

Dex stares at a white patch on the wall where a poster used to be. The crew’s footsteps echo from downstairs.

“Something you need to understand is that me and Hammer aren’t friends. We work together, but we don’t really know each other, and I like to keep my life separate from his. You’ll understand when you work long enough.”

Dex: “... Wait, but why? He was perfectly friendly earlier!”

Glen: “Look, it’s… complicated, okay?” >_>;

“We don’t really know each other.”

The kid’s too sharp for his own good. “Well, I wanna know more about you, Dex. And I want to share my life with you.” I smile. “You know that music the Toxtricity was playing? I listen to that sort of stuff all the time. I see whole bands like that too.”

IMO, Dex’s line works better with a bit more emphasis on the “we” there.

Dex tilts his head at me. “Really?”

“Yeah. I hope you can join me for a gig some time. There’s so much I wanna show you too.”

Wait, wait, wait. Glen actively plays in bands? I got a very different impression from the first chapter last time, but I suppose I shouldn’t rule anything out.

I know I shouldn’t do this but I rummage through the boxes and find a plushie of a caped Greninja.

“That’s a Pokemon,” Dex states.

“That’s not just any Pokemon, that’s Long Legged Larry, the Greninja.” I give another forced smile. “He’s a superhero that fights crime. They’ve made all sorts of shows and movies about him.”

>Long Legged Larry

This is at once so cringe and yet feels really on-brand with what we’ve seen the franchise’s internal “show-within-a-show”s, especially from the anime.

“What’s crime?”

I have a lot to teach this kid, not that I hope he ever comes across someone robbing a bank or worse. “Bad people doing bad things.”

“Oh.”

Um, just saying Glen, but a good deal of life in the wild likely counts as criminality in a human civilization context.

“Yeah, oh. But it’s fun to see him getting justice too.” I fling the plushie up in the air and catch it. “And jumping over skyscrapers; really tall buildings.”

I thought Dex would want to play with him, but he just stares at his feet.

“There’s so much here. It’s so confusin’.”

So I take it that wild Machop don’t really have a concept of having dolls or playing with them given that Dex is basically just staring blankly at being presented one for the first time.

“You’ll get the hang of it.” I shove Larry back in the box. “Now c’mon, we need to get a move on before the rest think we’re slacking. Okay?”

Dex picks up the box in front of him and nods. I don’t know if he feels any better by the end of our talk, but he loses himself in the work, and soon enough, we both fill the van. The family tails us to their new house in their own car, which looks identical to the one they just moved out from, except it’s in a suburban area further from the city. I can’t say it’s an upgrade since there isn’t much here except rows upon rows of houses painted a blinding white, but again, I keep my judgments to myself.

Ah yes, cue the theme song:

View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2AkoPCXZ_K4

As we unload the boxes, all the carrying and bending over I’ve done in the day catches up with me, to the point Dex outpaces me. This time, I don’t feel so guilty about taking a breather by the van. On instinct, I bring out my phone to the tune of four text messages from Barry.

That actually makes me wonder if the rest of the gang is similarly worn-down, or if this is whatever Glen’s got going on with his battling ability that’s worn down his general stamina.

B: ‘How’s it going with Dex? I wanted to call you to see how you were getting on but figured you were busy.’ - 10:09AM

I like how he types everything like he probably does at work, all spell-checked and clear to read. No annoying text-speak.

Well, that’s certainly a rare bird there. Makes me wonder how old Barry is given that he studiously avoids chatspeak.

B: ‘Fuck my boss, seriously. He didn’t end up using the printouts and blamed me for wasting our charity budget.’ - 11:15AM

He also sent a gif of a Pangoro snapping an office keyboard in half. It still surprises me how blunt he is behind a screen.

Well, maybe I spoke a bit too soon given that Barry’s clearly quite familiar with using reaction images.

B: ‘I’m on my break now. What did you want me to do for dinner? Looking forward to meeting Dex.’ - 12:32AM

Crap, I forgot to get back to him. I’m about to type what Dex wants when I see the last message.

B: ‘Sorry I ran off, I was a bit blindsided. I didn’t expect to see you at the park with your work buddies, and with Dex too. It was nice to see you earlier, but maybe warn me next time you’re in our spot.’ - 12:56PM

Have they gotten outed in the past as having a relationship with each other or something? Since this sure feels like a lot of precautions to be taking over getting spotted in the same parks as each other.

All the air goes out of me, like I’ve just been pricked with a pin. I know why he said it. I should’ve gone to literally any other place outside of our usual meeting spot. We hold both our livelihoods in our hands every time we show any sort of affection in public.

I wonder how on earth that gets enforced in this society anyways, since you’d think that different species would have different norms for showing affection even without having romance in mind.

I think of all the other close calls we’ve had. Me and Barry have kissed in the toilets at The Cave with humans outside the cubicles. Countless times, we’ve had to stop ourselves from holding hands. Even when we’re talking sometimes, whether it’s in a cafe or in a park, he checks over his shoulder or keeps his distance, always a reminder that someone could be watching.

Have y’all considered bailing for Kalos where you can at least cheek kiss in public without drawing too much scrutiny?

It was exciting at first, to feel like we’re thieves about to be caught. Now, though?

My thumb hovers over the keyboard for ages until Hammer, yet again, slaps my back.

“I thought you were helping,” he says. “Guess you’ve hit your limit.”

Hammer: “Oh, by the way, Glen. What are you looking at?”
Glen:

I try to collect myself. Put those thoughts in a box, like I always have. But I just stare at Hammer, who in turn narrows his eyes.

“You still having problems with your place? That’d explain why you’re acting so weird lately; landlords sound like pure evil.”

I mean, considering what’s been implied of how raw a deal Pokémon in human society get in this setting, I’d frankly be shocked if Glen didn’t have landlord problems.

He still doesn’t know I’ve moved in with Barry. I’ll just settle for the lie as usual.

“Yeah,” I say at last. “They’ve still not fixed half the stuff there.”

“Ah. I hope you get it sorted.”

… Wait, does Glen still have his text messages visible on his phone right now? Or did he quickly lock screen so that way Hammer couldn’t see what was on it? ^^;

I stare at my boots, which shuffle against gravel. What I would give for a Sandy Numel right now.

“I’m just taking a stab in the dark here,” he continues. “You and that anklebiter seem awful close. You say he’s lost his parents. So… what’s going on?”

That gets my attention. I want to tell him the truth, just so I can get him off my back, but the words don’t come out. The thought of telling anyone is still so petrifying. All I can settle for is a half-truth.

“I want him to live with me,” I say. “I want to raise him as my own.”

Hammer whistles. “That’s… surprising. Never pegged you as the dad type.”

“Meaning what?”

“You’re usually… you know, a bit of a sourpuss.”

Glen: “I am not!”

Hammer: “Not helping your case there. Also, just saying, I’m not the one scowling on the story icon there.”

“Well screw you too.”

[ ]


“You don’t mince words, do you? But I see you lighten up a lil’ around him. That’s a good thing.”

I snort. “Thanks, I guess.”

It might make sense to show off a bit more of how Hammer’s outward mood is right about now, especially if he’s having a giggle at Glen’s reaction.

“But…” His tone drops. “Glen. I know you don’t want to hear it, but your crummy flat, as you once put it, ain’t a good place for him. He’s gonna be miserable cooped up there, especially if that human’s being a pain in the rear.”

He talks as if he knows anything about my life, or Dex’s. All I can give is a grunt in reply.

Just saying, Glen, Hammer does vibe as being the more seasoned and experienced type, so…

“He can stay at our house until you get your place sorted or move somewhere else. But it’s gonna be tough. Tough for you, and tough for him, especially in the city. It just ain’t made for beasts like us.”

Aaaaaand cue the credits roll.

“I know.” That’s all I’ll say.

“Alright.” Hammer pats my shoulder and keeps it there. He tries to look at me, though I try to turn away. I can see myself reflected in his eyes and I hate how pathetic I must look. “Just ask yourself if it’s something you both want. Take it easy, Mister Puff Puff.”

Dex: “... Wait, ‘Mister Puff Puff’?”

Glen: “Dex, just go move boxes or something for a bit. You’re not even supposed to be here right now!”

Hammer finally gets back to his work. I don’t. I stay with my back against the van. Dex is rushing to move the boxes into the house. Rip matches his pace. It seems like they’re in a race to pack stuff away the quickest, judging by the smiles on their faces.

Which sounds like a recipe for wrecking the stuff of the family that hired you, but let’s not get into that right now. ^^;

Meanwhile, the family carefully plays football on one side of the garden. The parents cheer their kids on as they act as the goalies on opposite teams. Both sons tackle each other as two Machoke would tackle each other in a fight. All in good fun. The eldest shoots, scores, and the parents pull him into a tackle hug, not caring that the grass is staining their clothes and the Boltund’s licking their faces.

Again, I try to think of the good times me, Dex, and Barry will spend together. But neither the Mach n’ Van crew nor the human family has anything to hide. Me and Barry do.

Oh yeah, that’s totally going to wind up playing well with bringing a young, impressionable child who loves running his gums and likely doesn’t fully understand the social implications of a Poképhilia taboo. /s

What’s the worst that could happen with us together? Dex would be taken away. Both our jobs would be ruined. Not only that, Barry would probably be thrown in jail. I’d just be tossed aside as the victim, as if I had no say in the matter, and find another job somewhere else to start on a clean slate. But the best?

All I can see is that Dex will live his whole life keeping up a lie that we’ve forced upon him.

This sure feels like something you should’ve thought about before bringing Dex into your life, Glen. Not that I expect you to back down this earily.

I retreat back into the front seat of the van, just staring out of the window that gives way to the rest of the suburbs, all human-owned, all middle class. Deep breaths, one two. Deep breaths, one two three four. It doesn’t work. I claw at my pockets. There’s nothing there. No release from this. Nothing to guard me from myself.

I take it that this is a bit of an ‘off day’ for Glen, since I remember that he remembered to bring his smokes with him during his cameo in Gathering Moss. Makes me wonder if he normally lights up in between jobs and this is at least in part nicotine withdrawal getting to him in live time.

I want Dex to live a normal life, not like I did. But nothing about me and Barry is normal. Even Dex’s good memories would all be tainted by our lie, like the specks of mold in our cozy little flat.

I mean, even Dex isn’t normal by your standards, Glen. He’s literally an orphaned wild/feral who barely knows anything about how human civilization works, so…

There’s no way this is going to work. Not when Barry doesn’t want us to be seen. Not when Dex needs other kids, Pokemon, hell, anyone else to play with that isn’t us. The only right decision I can make, for Barry’s sake, for Dex’s sake, is to call it off.

Yeah, he’s totally not going to call it off since otherwise this’ll be a really short story.

I stay there until the crew trickles in, one by one. I see Dex in the rear-view mirror; he’s looking into it too. Looking at me, I imagine. Can he tell what I’m thinking?

More like he’s fascinated with that thing since he’s probably not used to seeing many mirrors inn life, Glen.

“Uh, can we go home already?” Rip asks. “I wanna practise my right hook.”

Right. This is my job. I can do that. I start the van and drive out of these depressing suburbs. To think it’s evening already. The clouds have cleared up, giving way to an orange, pink sky. It does nothing to clear my mood. The rest of the drive goes by in a daze, and so does the chatter behind me, something about how excitable the Boltund was. Dex joins in too and laughs at one of Hammer’s lame dad jokes. He enjoys being around them.

Glen: “Well, this first day of fatherhood’s really going well at the moment.”

That’s it. He’ll have a much better shot at the Mach n’ Van. I’ll give him that offer, at least. That way, I can still see him. My plan becomes clearer the closer we head to the house.

My phone rings. I know it’s Barry from the custom ringtone that plays: a riff from Groudon’s Blood by Thousands of Dead Legendaries. I can’t talk to him in front of my crew, so I let it die out.

Why on earth do you even have a custom ringtone for Barry considering that you two are trying not to get outed, Glen?

“What the heck was that noise?” Rip asks.

“Glen’s phone,” Hammer says on my behalf. “It plays all sorts of weird stuff.”

“It sounds cool!” Dex chimes in.

Something wet pricks behind my eyeballs, but I blink it away, like I’ve always done. I’m so sorry, kid.

Well, that just wrapped right around back to [sadwott] really quickly there.

We finally make it back to the home base. Most of the crew sprint into the fields, as they usually do. Only Hammer and Dex are left.

I take a deep breath. I know this’ll suck. But this has to be done.

I’ll admit, I wasn’t expecting things to head this direction. Time to see whether Glen will follow through on backing out on fatherhood.

“Hey, Dex.” I wipe away whatever’s left of my tears and smile at Dex, whose feet sway from the booster seat. “How’d you find today?”

“It was cool! You get to do this every day?”

“Yeah. We go to all sorts of places.” I hum. “Say, what do you want to do now?”

“Bunnelby stew?”

I sigh. I know Dex will feel somewhat betrayed.

Well, time for Dex’s pleasant day to go straight down the tubes.

“Hammer’s a good cook, isn’t he?”

“Yeah,” Hammer chimes in. “Actually, we should have enough stuff for stew. Not sure I have Bunnelby, though.”

Dex looks at Hammer, then back to me. His feet stop kicking. “I thought we were gonna go to yours.”

“I know.” There’s still an opportunity to change my mind. But I can’t hedge this. That would just give him false hope. I’ve given enough of it already. “Listen, kid, plans have changed. I’m not sure it would be good for you to stay around mine. I think the Mach n’ Van will be better for you. You enjoy it here, right?”

Dex: “... But you said that we’d go to your house.” .-.
Glen: “Yeah… I… just didn’t really think things through there when I made the offer.”

Dex looks over at the other Machoke roughhousing in the garden. “I do.”

“Then I’m sure Hammer will have a spot for you.”

“Of course.” Hammer hums. “Dex has been a great help today.”

“And I’ll still come and see you. I just–” I falter, trying to think of what to say next. It all sounds like an excuse when it’s not. “You’re great, kid. I want to see you happy. I think this will be a good next step for you. And if you get sick of it, we can find something else for you to do. How’s that sound?”

Hammer: “... Glen, what on earth is going on here?”

Dex looks back at me again. He doesn’t seem lost. He’s taking this rather well, in fact, but it doesn’t make me feel any less guilty.

“Good,” he says. “Can I stay?”

“Room and board,” Hammer says. “You can even help me with the ingredients if you want.”

Yeah, Glen is going to take this well™, I’m sure.

“Have you got onions?” Dex asks.

“What’s a stew without onions?” Hammer reaches over to pat Dex on the shoulder, like he does with me. “Now, if you wanna join them, I’ll be right there with you.”

Oh hey, Glen has a convenient excuse to cry in public if he needs to let things out a bit, just saying.

Dex nods, then his face drops. He opens his mouth, then closes it and undoes his seatbelt. He runs out and pounces into the fray, like there’s a dual battle going on.

Hammer stays behind. He reaches for my shoulder when I recoil. His back hunches, then he steps out of the van and slams the door shut, joining the rest.

That’s it. I’ve washed my hands of this. Now I just want to go home, away from these other Machoke. I collect my pay and don’t even look back at the rest as I get back into my own car. I check my phone. Of course, it’s Barry. One missed call and one new message:

B: ‘Just finished work, good riddance. I guess you’re still busy, so that’s fine. Let me know what Dex wants when you can. xx.’ - 5:01PM

Oh, well. That’s certainly going to make things awkward in short order.

I never answered his texts about what Dex would like for dinner, not that it matters now. I text ‘dex isnt coming’ and toss the phone onto the dashboard. Right away, I dive for the cigarettes in the glove box and light up.

Sweet release.

Well, that’s certainly a cheery note to end on. /s

Alright, let’s just get that bit of sand out of my eyes before getting into the summary. But I thought that this chapter was a pretty fun introduction to Dex, as well as a rather heartwrenching look at Glen having to navigate the reality of his precarious life with Barry when he finally has his dream of fatherhood in his grasp, only to suddenly get cold feet about it from reality rearing its head. The emotional range as seen from Glen’s perspective is also pretty well-done, going from the initial joy and headiness surrounding Glen’s picking up Dex, to the depression of grappling with Dex’s loss, the frustration and panic that kicks in when Glen’s day doesn’t go to plan and he almost gets outed. It all does a good job at helping us to really get into his place here. The worldbuilding was once again very well done, too, especially the amount of thought that you put into how Machop line society would work both in proximity to humans and in the wild.

I don’t have too much to complain about in this chapter. There were a couple points where I thought you had a bit of room to throw around a bit more description, in particular in some longer dialogue sequences. I do also wonder as to whether or not this chapter would’ve been better formatted into a couple scenes with hard cuts given that quite a bit happens all in the long single cut that takes up this chapter and I wonder if scene cuts would’ve sold the passage of time and changes of location a bit better.

Thanks for your patience for this review, @NebulaDreams . It wasn’t the happiest chapter in the world, but it got me interested in seeing where things would go, and I’ll be looking forward to coming back for that last prize review sometime soon.

 

[Spiteful Murkrow]

Heya, coming back to round out that trio of prize reviews. I’m not fully sure what to expect from this one since the OP mentioned this being a three-part story while there’s four in the threadmark index, but this is apparently still the climax to the broader plot, so let’s see where things go:

Part 3

Spoiler: Line-by-Line

I burn through my last few cigarettes by the time I drive back to my place. I’ve already thought about what I’m going to say, but I still have to gather myself before I get out of my car to unlock the front door. Right away, I’m hit with a cloud of bubblegum stink.

Ah yes, I see that Barry’s hitting the vape pen something fierce right now.

Barry’s stretched out on the settee, glued to his phone while he puffs on his vape pen. It sounds like he’s watching one of his dumb video essays, something he usually puts on while he’s cooking or playing his games. I so badly want to snuggle up to him, but I can’t. We need to settle what happened in the park.

“Hey,” I say, wiping my boots on the welcome mat.

Uh, yeah, considering the CWs you had for this chapter, I can already tell that this is going to go very downhill for everybody very fast.

Barry sighs and puts his phone away, though he doesn’t budge from his position with his feet propped up on the armrest. I’d rehearsed something on the way here, but I’ve forgotten what it is and my body freezes like I’ve been hit with an ice beam.

I know Barry doesn’t deal well with confrontation. He’s always the last person to speak up whenever someone gets his order wrong or cuts in line. If there’s anyone who needs to speak up, it’s me.

“I got your text,” he says, cutting me short.

Well, so much for that then. Though per rule of “OOC is Serious Business”, I can already tell that Barry is less-than-thrilled at the moment.

“Yeah.”

The ticking clock in the kitchen punctuates the silence. Well, colour me surprised.

Glen: “Um, are you alright, Barry? Since… uh… this isn’t quite like you right now.” .-.

“I was really looking forward to doing dinner tonight,” he continues. “You never told me what he wanted.”

“Bunnelby stew,” I say, fighting off the tickle in my throat.

Oh, I see that Glen is feeling well™ at the moment, I see. Not that the stress and pack of cigarettes likely helped.

“Aw, that’s a shame, it would’ve been nice to have him around.”

He doesn’t know the half of it.

“So, what happened? Did he just decide not to come with you?”

I pop my boots off and plant my socked feet firmly onto the carpet. I can feel myself sinking into it.

Huh, I didn’t realize that Glen wore socks. Though I suppose it makes sense since the average shoe/boot chafes bare human feet easily.

“I called it off.”

“What?” Barry sits up and tugs at his beard. “You didn’t ask me first?”

“Nope.”

[ ]


“Glen,” he chides like I’m some Machop. “I thought we were doing this together.”

It might have made sense to show off Barry’s reaction here a bit more explicitly, especially if his mood is visibly taking a turn for the crabbier.

“It’s not like I needed permission from you.” The words tumble out like rocks falling off a cliff. I hate the direction this is going, but I can’t stop myself as I take a few steps forward, looking down at Barry. “It was my idea to take him in anyway.”

Well, I see we’re not wasting any time at all for fast-tracking towards that impending screaming match there.

“So that means I don’t get a say in it?”

“No.” I pinch my snout. “That’s not what I meant. I just…”

Barry stops fiddling with his stubble, which is good, but now he’s fiddling with the seat cushioning instead.

Glen: “Look, Barry, our social lives are going to be over if our relationship comes out. And we were seriously going to trust a Machop straight from the wilds to keep our secret?” >_>;

“Look, we both knew it might not’ve worked out. We’re both working full time. He’d either be cooped up in here with us, or we’ll be outside, not even able to act like two normal parents in front of everyone else. We’re basically cut off from everyone else too. Not even your friends or parents know about us together.”

Barry grabs a fistful of settee leather. “I know.”

Glen: “... But…? Since you’re saying that like you have more on your mind, Barry.”

“See?” I rub the back of my neck. “And things being as they are, y’know, your anxiety–”

“Don’t. My anxiety’s not an excuse for us to dump Dex.”

Glen: “Oh, and the entire paragraph about how we wouldn’t have the time for him and constantly be in danger of outing ourselves didn’t count for anything? Really?”

“Excuse?” I snort. “Just like telling me to ‘warn you’ isn’t an excuse?”

“Shit,” his voice cracks. Barry rubs his face. “I shouldn’t have said that. I just freaked out. I wasn’t expecting to see you then.”

He always says something like that after these close calls. [ ]

“I’m so sick of this. We can’t even hold hands in public.”

I kinda feel like there should be a bit more thought process lingering on the whole “we almost outed ourselves to the whole world”, especially since there seems to be some sort of step in Glen’s thought process that’s going unsaid at the moment.

“How d’you think I feel?”

Barry’s taking deep breaths, one two, one two. Not this again. I should say some words of comfort. After all he’s told me about his family, those shitty high school friends of his who blackmailed him over his interests in Pokemon, and all his relationships that have deteriorated in the past, there’s plenty he needs comforting with. But the words don’t come.

Well, that sounds like fun™ to deal with. Like given the author’s commentary in the OP, I assume that this is drawing heavy inspiration off of the experience of closeted LGBT individuals, even if I have to wonder just how common Poképhilic pairings are such that Barry’s parents apparently have known negative opinions about them.

Barry regains his composure a little, and stands up, giving me a stone faced look.

”You know, I texted you all day and you didn’t even talk to me.”

I grunt. “Clingy, much? I don’t have to update you on everything I do.”

Um, Glen? Isn’t this exactly the wrong tack to be taking after a day where you almost outed yourself and then blew up your plans to adopt a child?

“I know, just–” he throws his hands up in the air–”You should’ve told me you were having second thoughts.”

“I was busy, alright?” I pace around the room. “Today was stressful and I was just thinking in the heat of the moment.”

You’re sure that you’re not also deciding in the heat of the moment, too, Glen? Since you didn’t exactly vibe as thinking through the decision to back out of taking Dex home last chapter.

“I get being busy, but we are supposed to communicate when stuff gets tough!” He scratches his mane of hair. “It’s like, we’ve been together all this time and it still feels there’s this… wall between us.”

I mean, you two are only separated by a species and… well I’d say an Egg Group, but that doesn’t quite work that way for humans, huh?

[ ]

“And what’s that got to do with what happened today?”

“Everything! You never tell me how work’s going or how you’re feeling. You never look happy and you won’t even say why.”

“Because I’m driving a bunch of stupid fucking Pokemon around all day.” I get all up in his face. “Is that the answer you want?”

I kinda wonder if it’d have made sense to give a bit more spotlight to Glen’s internal thought process as he gets more and more agitated in this argument. I did raise my eyebrow a bit at the ‘stupid fucking Pokémon’ part. I wonder if that’s a sign that Glen feels dissociated from the average Pokémon in this setting or not.

He faces me in turn, almost squishing his nose against mine. “Then quit.”

“Oh, like it’s so easy! You actually get to have a career! I just have a day job!”

“There are other options, y’know.”

“Like what, sucking up to a trainer on some stupid trinket quest?”

That actually makes me wonder what Glen has tried in the past? Did he try anything other than being trained in the past? If so, it might make sense to run through a couple attempts at jobs he did as an internal “no Barry, I can’t just quit my job” thing.

“No, I mean those PokeJobs coming up. Or a hobby or a course you can pick up. Oh, and those ‘stupid fucking Pokemon’ you talk about make a lot of money just streaming these days too. You were talking about how Dex could do anything he wanted, so why don’t you practise what you preach?”

>PokeJobs

Just saying, I saw what the working experience with those was like in I, Isobel, and yeah. I wouldn’t blame Glen for getting really crabby about that suggestion there since that's not exactly an upgrade from his current job.

“It’s too late for me.” I breathe through my nose. “I’m fine just surviving with what I know.”

“But you’re not happy.”

“Yeah, that’s called adulthood.”

“Oh fuck off.” Barry scoffs and walks away, heading towards his room. “You sound just like my dad. Maybe it’s better that Dex didn’t come with you.”

I’ll take that as one notch for ‘a part of Barry’s never grown up’. Even if he does have a point that Glen really should at least poke his nose around for other options since you’d think that there’s more employers in need of manual labor than Mach ‘N Van.

His dad? That deadbeat?

Oh. Oh boy.

How dare he?

Yeah, I knew that Glen wouldn’t take this well.

Everything happens so fast. That rush within me. That fighting spirit. I haven’t felt it in so long. Before I know it, my fist hits the wall behind the settee. Oh, shit. There’s a dent in it now. And Barry’s backed himself against the bedroom door, all wide eyed. He starts yanking his beard, then tugging his neck.

“Nnghh… no, no, don’t–” he rapidly breathes. “I’m sorry, I, I, um, ugh–”

Um… how many times has this happened between the two of you anyways, Glen?

He’s lying against the door now, mumbling and hyperventilating. Shit, he’s having one of his panic attacks again. I’m not in the mood for this.

“Barry,” I huff in between breaths, “stop this. You’re making a fool of yourself.”

He doesn’t stop. He keeps going, grabbing fistfuls of his hair and manages to rip out a whole clump of it like he’s tearing paper.

Yeah, I winced after reading this. Barry’s really going downhill at the moment, huh? Though I wonder if this sort of response he's having originates from his family life at all.

“Barry...” I groan. “Barry, please.” It takes a few deep breaths before it hits me: I did this to him. My Barry.

… I mean, at least you didn’t outright punch him out of frustration? ^^;

Whatever monster made me punch the wall ebbs out of me. My face feels hot. I’m crying, weeping. All the things I’ve tried to express to him, everything I’ve held in all this time, just melts out of my eyes and I join Barry on the floor, hugging him and kissing him and sobbing into his chest. I don’t want him to leave me. He’s too important to me. I’ve got nothing else, not even Dex now.

Technically, you could turn right around to Mach ‘N Van and go and pick up Dex anyways, even if you’re not exactly in the right emotional state to be doing that.

“I’m sorry,” I choke out in between sobs. “I’m sorry, Barry. Stay with me, please.”

I just want him to be okay. To not feel like he feels. I try to ground him however I can, rubbing his back and talking to him, and he eases into it until his breathing slows, then it's his turn to cry into my chest. We just stay like that, arms wrapped around each other, not caring about what he said or what I said. I don’t even know how long we stay there for, just that it’s gotten darker by the time we both calm down.

I mean, I’m sure that a part of this is Glen being off-kilter from having his dreams of fatherhood seemingly dashed, but I suppose this is a sign that these two don’t fight like this all that often with how badly it’s shaking the two of them up.

“Sorry,” Barry says in between breaths. “I didn’t mean that. About Dex.”

Neither of us meant it. I tell myself that even as my hand’s still covered with wall dust and bruises.

“It’s fine.”

I'm gonna call a "doubt" on that one.

“No, it’s not.” He sniffles. “I know how much you wanted to take him in. It’s not fair for you to keep hiding.”

“It’s not. For either of us.”

Yeah, see. I knew that things weren’t fine there. Even if we’re a wee bit early on into this chapter for any resolution to be popping over the horizon.

We let those words linger. In a perfect world, we wouldn’t have to worry about any of this. But we went into this relationship accepting that risk. I’d rather have that than not have it at all.

I mean, you could move to Kanto. I hear they have more open attitudes towards Poké-Love. /s

“Is…” Barry sits up and rubs his eyes. “Is Dex okay?”

“He’s staying with the Mach n’ Van crew. He really likes it there.”

[ ]


“Oh, so, you’ve made up your mind. He’s not coming here.”

I take a deep breath. It’s not about making up my mind, it’s about doing what’s right for him.

“Nope.”

Another spot where it might’ve made sense to show off a bit more of Barry’s reaction there. Though I’m actually a bit curious as to how this conflict is going to wind up being resolved. Since the title of the final part seems to indicate that Glen gets to have some sort of relationship with Dex, even if he’s laid out some pretty good reasons between the last chapter and now as to why adoptive fatherhood might be a bridge too far.

“Alright.” Barry caresses my face, tracing his hand along the ridges of my snout. “What’re you going to do when you see him tomorrow?”

I expect Dex will be pissed off at me. I deserve it.

“I don’t know.”

Glen: “I mean, I suppose that I should explain that I can’t be a father figure to him like I thought I could, but- gods, how am I supposed to explain this to a little kid who’s a literal orphan?”

“Aw.”

Barry hugs me. I hug him back, gripping him tight. I’m afraid that if I let him go, he’ll disappear. I just count my lucky stars that he’s in my life.

Yeeeeeeah, considering how much of a wreck the rest of Glen’s life vibes as, I can already see why he’s utterly terrified of losing Barry here.

“When…” Barry starts, his voice muffled by my neck. “When are you next free?”

One good thing I can say about the humans running Mach n’ Van is that they force me to have breaks. So many places I’d worked for in the past seemed to forget that Pokemon suffer burnout too.

“I have the weekend off after tomorrow.”

“Let’s do something nice.” He kisses the groove beneath my snout. “We both need it.”

Some small formatting tweaks that I’d recommend here.

I hum in agreement. A part of me dreads going out again, knowing that we’ll still have to hide everywhere we go, but it’s better than nothing.

“Oh, and do you fancy a takeaway tonight? Maybe we could watch a show too.”

Not gonna lie, I was looking forward to Barry cooking tonight, but I feel we could both do with some comfort food.

It’s going to be curry, isn’t it?

“Sure.”

<><><>

We spend the evening gorging on Cozy Fried Kitchen with a few beers while we binge-watch one of Barry’s animes. Unsurprisingly, it features anthropomorphic Pokemon as the main characters (Barry had to explain to me what anthropomorphic meant when I first started watching the show with him), featuring a Lycanroc who falls for a Lopunny in some high school setting. It took me some time to get invested, but I’ve warmed up to it, especially since their interspecies relationship hits a little close to home with me and Barry together.

I kinda wonder if this moment would’ve worked better with a hard scene cut since there’s a decent jump ahead in time here.

I try to cuddle up to him like nothing happened, but he feels stiff in my grasp. That’s okay. We’re both still feeling raw, so I give him the space he needs. I soon forget about today’s worries with all the fattening fast food and lagers in the mix. I drift in and out of sleep next to Barry before I call it a night.

---

I try to shake off last night’s weariness as I drive back up to the Mach n’ Van base. I’ve been in a funk ever since I’ve woken up. Maybe it was the booze. Not just that, as soon as I step out of my car to greet the crew who have been running laps around the field, they all look at me as if I’m walking around naked.


“What’s up?” I say, nursing my head. “I’m not late, am I?”

Oh, well. Nevermind, that’s why you didn’t put in a hard scene cut. Though I can already tell that this is a positive sign™ here.

Glen: “Also, why are you all looking at me like that?”

“Nah.” Rip takes a swig out of a water bottle. “You’re early, if anything.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

Rip shrugs. Dex almost backs into him as he stops running. [ ]

“Hey, kid,” I say, forcing a smile. “Looks like you’ve been through quite a jog, huh?”

I feel like it probably would’ve made sense to show off more of Glen’s thought process after seeing Dex and showing off the “oh boy, I really have to do this, huh” wheels turning in his head a bit more here since he clearly vibed as being uncomfortable and unready to deal with Dex in the last scene.

“Mmm.” Dex fiddles with his hands. Dextrous.

Oh, that’s where Dex got his name, huh?

“How’d you get on last night?” I ask, as if I totally didn’t dump his ass here.

Dex looks off into the distance, past central Circhester’s buildings, over to a set of fields. Just faintly, I can see the grey exterior of Fairweather Daycare atop one of the hills. Then back to the house.

“Good,” he says at last. “Everyone’s really nice. Rip sparred with me. Hammer’s a great cook. I’ve never had eggs on toast before.”

I can see that hesitation from Dex there, just saying.

His eyes wander as he says this. I want to reach out to him, pat him on the shoulder, try to act like a dad, like I wanted to when I took him in yesterday. But I can’t promise him that.

“Glad to hear you’re getting on well.”

Dex nods and continues his laps. Rip does the same, passing him his water bottle mid run. I don’t know what to do now since I’m not joining the crew on their drills. Hammer waves at me from the annex kitchen window. When I pop in to see him, he’s washing up a mountain of dishes.

Glen: “(Whew. That turned out better than I thought it would.)”

“And Mister Puff Puff arrives,” he says as he’s scrubbing a frying pan. “You usually don’t come in here in the morning.”

“It’s only ten minutes before we start,” I say. “What’s up, anyway?”

“Just wanted to talk to you about Dex. The anklebiter’s great. I’ve never seen such a well behaved Machop. Didn’t hurt that he really liked my stew either.”

“Good.”

… Wait, so how do Machop normally behave then if Hammer’s specifically highlighting how well-behaved Dex is right now?

I wait by the door, expecting him to say something else. I don’t know what I’m expecting exactly. I could just smoke back in my car and wait it out until I’m expected to drive them up to their first job.

“What?”

His lips crease into a frown. “Dex was kind of upset.”

I knew it.

Glen: “Oh… uh… he was, huh? Did… he say anything about why he was upset?”

“I get why. He doesn’t like to talk about his parents, but I can tell it’s still raw for him. We’re a good team, but we can’t fill a hole like that in him.” He scoffs. “It’s not like this is new for me. Plenty of Machoke come to us not having anywhere else to go. All I can do is just give them that space until they’re ready.”

I hum in agreement. This isn’t just a place where Machoke train themselves, it’s a place that they have somewhere to call home for the moment. Supposedly. It’s never felt like a home to me.

I mean, if it’s a “place to call home for the moment”, that kinda feels like it’d be pretty hard to wind up finding it homely, Glen. Like are your coworkers even the same crew that you were working with a year ago?

“That anklebiter’s gonna find it really tough, though. More than anything, he needs someone to rely on. He was expecting that from you.”

I freeze. I know that I let him down. I can’t disagree with Hammer, but I don’t have a choice in the matter.

Oh hey, cue the theme song:

View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hoKluzn07eQ


Glen: “Quiet, you, you’re not helping.”

“You shouldn’t have led him on. You can’t promise something and then break it, especially not to a kid like that.”

Since... yeah, Dex was rather obviously getting excited about that Bunnelby stew last chapter.

I know. I know that more than anyone. But Hammer doesn’t know what I’ve had to go through. He can’t know. And I don’t want him to know, even though I’ve lumped this situation onto him. I just stare at him, clawing for any power I can get in this situation.

“Why don’t you say something, Glen?” Soap suds drip from Hammer’s hands as he grabs a tea towel. The hands on his back arms curl into fists. “Jeez, you don’t have to talk to me if you don’t wanna, but I’m just trying to give you some advice.”

Hammer: “Why on earth did you do this anyways, Glen? Since it’s more than a little odd for you to go from showing up late for work having the time of your life with a kid to just dumping him onto the rest of us.”

“Well, Mister Nosy,” I snarl, “I’m not asking for your opinion, am I?”

I don’t mean to say it. The words just come out. That’s enough for Hammer to throw the damp cloth at my face.

“I’ll see you in the van,” he grumbles as he storms out. I’m left there holding the limp, dishwater-smelling tea towel.

I’m honestly surprised that Hammer didn’t just deck him right then and there.

My hands shake as I pull another cigarette out of my pocket. I’ve still got five minutes. I can’t go back to work until I get my fix again.

Ah yes, I know how Glen’s going to look for the next five minutes:

Me and Barry spent most of today together. We wandered around Circhester’s parks, he bought me lunch at one of my favourite sandwich shops in the city (sourdough!), and we both made plans to see new gigs next month. It’s been good.

Just saying, the way that this is phrased makes me convinced that there’s going to be a ‘but’ coming up really fast.

Now I’m at this board game cafe with Barry’s friends: someone else from his workplace who looks like a lumberjack with his flannel shirt, and his boyfriend, who’s as thin as a Bellsprout. Barry thought it would be nice for me to befriend some humans. This would make it a double date if we actually made each other official.

I was going to say that that was a ballsy move on Barry’s part, but I see from the “if we actually made each other official” that Barry and Glen are still keeping mum about their relationship.

I get on well with his group, at first. I don’t like how humans always ask each other what they do, as if the most important thing about them is their work, but I try to make my delivery driver job sound as glamorous as possible with all the places we go to, also talking about some of my problem customers so they know it’s not all Slurpuff and rainbows.

The lumberjack guy talks about his marketing role while his lanky boyfriend works in IT or some shit. I still don’t know what their jobs are actually about by the time we start playing a card game based off The Five Towers, some fantasy book about an Alakazam facing an evil human empire. It’s simple enough until it devolves into an argument about how much the latest show sucked and how many plot holes there are. Then they start rambling about another fantasy game where you kill hordes of mutated Rattata and I completely lose the thread of the conversation.

I take it that ‘The Five Towers’ is a riff off of LotR and the recent Amazon show being mid, huh?

I literally can’t pay attention to what I’m supposed to do in this game while they’re talking about another game with all this super-complicated lore. After a while, I go through the motions, playing to the best of my ability in silence while Barry and his friends talk each other’s ears off.

Yeeeeah, I’m pretty sure that Glen’s kinda being a third wheel at the moment, since he’s very clearly out of the loop relative to the nerd pursuits at the moment.

I’m happy for Barry. He’s got friends that like what he likes, and I respect that. It’s just not my group. It reminds me of being back at the Mach n’ Van, except I at least get what they’re talking about.

… Does Glen have anyone in his social circle he can be close to outside of Barry? Since if he already isn’t that close to the Mach ‘N Van gang and he’s out of the loop like this with Barry’s friends…

I wonder what Dex would think of this place, and if he’d like the vanilla milkshakes here or the simpler games developed for Pokemon in mind. I think back to what Hammer said about Dex being upset, and how the rest of the day went where I barely spoke to Dex at all, then my argument with Barry the other night.

‘Maybe it’s better that Dex didn’t come with you.’

Ah yes, I can already tell that Glen’s going to have second thoughts about the whole “nah, having a kid wouldn’t work” decision he made.

Now I just want to go home. I don’t want to leave Barry, but we already had a good day between us. Why ruin that by overstaying my welcome?

“I’m going back,” I say, shuffling out of the booth. “See you later.”

I want to kiss Barry goodbye, but I merely nod at him as I head out, lighting up on the way home.

He’s going to wind up bumping into Dex or something like that while out on the street, huh?

I thought a drive along Route 8 would’ve lifted my spirits. I’ve been through these roads during my time as a cargo driver. There’s a comforting familiarity as I traverse these bends that give way to ruins.

- peeks back up at chapter title -

… Boy that’s a really bad omen for how this car ride’s going to go.

Like the Hero’s Bath, these are remnants of civilisations long lost. Battlements, forts, and rock formations lay weathered on both sides of these roads. On one end, there’s untouched wilderness, where wild Rhyhorn and Sandaconda fight for territory amidst endless stretches of moss. On the other end, there’s the trainer’s path, where ladders and stairs have been erected around the dilapidated stone structures to give people and their Pokemon safe travels on their journey, while Falinks roll through the tunnels beneath them.

Huh, it must be kind of a trip to live in someplace where there’s just ancient ruins in your everyday background. I suppose that’s just part and parcel of life in Europe.

Both sides are fenced off to us, the people who actually have places to be. Except I have nowhere to go except back home to Circhester.

I stop at a vantage point where other drivers have parked near a petrol station and cafe. I chomp on a chicken salad sandwich as I look down at the trainer’s route that stretches for miles, one of the few places you can get a good look at the closed-off path without going into it yourself. In the distance, I can just barely make out a teenaged trainer hi-fiving their Noivern after coming out victorious.

Huh, so the routes are visible from outside. Though I suppose that it makes sense given that a lot of them seem to be laid out with scenic views or interesting environments in mind.

Sometimes, I bask in the good ol’ days where I was just a Machop who didn’t know any better, so desperate to prove himself. Some days, I can imagine a life where I still travelled these routes with some wide-eyed trainer.

On days like these, I just see what could’ve been, and what isn’t.

I’m honestly a little surprised that there’s not a bit more palpable resentment here given that Glen was very strongly hinted as having had a bad experience being trained, and you’d think that it’d color how he views either the Noivern or the Noivern’s trainer.

I bring my unfinished sandwich with me in the car. When I make it back home, there’s still many hours left in the day. Barry’s practising his guitar in his room. I’ll leave him to it. I just veg out to Natuflix while I drink throughout the day. It’s not like I’ve got anything better to do when neither of us have made plans to go out.

It’s hard to focus, even as this human’s jumping between platforms on this elaborate obstacle course. It's hard to ignore Barry swearing at missing a note when we live in the same house together, even with his bedroom door closed. The show becomes background noise as I browse my phone.

Well, no tree crash just yet, it seems. Though what are you up to right now, Glen-?

The PokeJobs system sounds good. They’re meant to test whether or not Pokemon can enter the workforce, as if Pokemon haven’t been helping humans with jobs since the dawn of time. I had to stumble for ages before I made a good living, so anything that gives Pokemon a leg up sounds good. Then I find out they’ve stopped trialling it for the year. Oh well.

Ahh, that would explain it. Though I assume that this is set sometime before the events of I, Isobel given that PokeJobs is apparently just starting up right now.

Then I type ‘Pokemon-human relationships’ into Rootom. Right away, there’s some news article on a scandal where a Sinnohan gym leader got banned from the league for being in a relationship with their Lucario.

… Can’t tell if that’s meant to be Maylene, or the explanation behind why Riley never got successfully headhunted into being a Gym Leader the Sinnoh League by Byron.

The news only talks about Pokemon falling for the trainers, or the other way around. I grimace just thinking about it. Pokemon and their trainers shouldn’t mix. The power balance is skewed from the start.

But what about Pokemon like me who just meet humans naturally, like I did with Barry?

Not that the scope of the story didn’t put a limit on how much could be delved into, but I kinda wonder if the whole “training has a skewed power balance” should’ve been delved into more either with incidents that Glen sees or else memories that he has.

I don’t remember how many cans I get through in my doom-scrolling haze, just that I feel fluid, like water. I want Barry. He’s got his headphones plugged into his amp. Music can wait, right? [ ]

“Hey!” Barry says, half-yelling, half-chuckling. “You’re very cuddly, aren’t you?”

“Uh huh,” I mumble, and kiss his neck. “Wanna snuggle.”

“Aw, c’mere, you.”

I think that it’d have made sense to show Glen actually interrupting Barry’s jam session a bit more explicitly there.

He drops what he’s doing and joins me in bed. He feels so amazing. I love the hair on his chest, and his curves, and that pudgy stomach of his. He’s been told he’s fat all his life. I want him to know he’s loved.

Barry touches my pecs. Yes, this feels right. I want this, even when I know I shouldn’t. His broad hands trail down to my stomach and he pinches where my abs should be. All that’s there is a piece of flab.

Well, I suppose that that’s a sign that Glen’s deeply out of practice as a Machoke. Even if he’s got that issue with his fighting abilities that was alluded to all the way back in Part 1.

I’ve gained weight after all the drinking, smoking, and the food I’ve eaten, even though I still exercise occasionally. Barry says he likes me for who I am, but is this what Barry sees staring back at him, this flabby husk of a Machoke?

The room feels so hot. Booze, maybe? No. I feel sick.

I stagger to the bathroom and lock it behind me, then reach for the sink.

“Glen!” Barry calls through the door. “Are you okay?”

Obviously not since he’s about 5 seconds away from

-ing all over your sink.

“Just–” I take in a sharp breath–”just a minute. Please.”

I take a few deep breaths, then snarl at the Machoke staring back at me through the mirror. That big snout of mine makes any selfie I take with Barry look stupid. My purple skin makes me look as pale as death. These fucking red streaks across my arms look like fish gills.

I have to wonder how much of this is internalized from human culture, since that’s a lot of self-consciousness over things I’d have expected Glen to just take for granted about himself.

The bathroom spins around me. My clammy hands slip against the porcelain of the sink. I’ve dealt with this before, these episodes. Barry’s been so helpful getting me to cope with them, so I should be over this by now. Then why–

‘Maybe it’s better that Dex didn’t come with you.’

Barry didn’t mean it. I shouldn’t even entertain the thought, but it is better. Dex’d never have to see me like this.

I spit at my own reflection, hoping it’ll go away. It doesn’t.

Yeeeeeeah, just saying, if that comment has stuck with you that badly, you can go ahead and admit that you want Dex to be a part of your life, Glen.

The weekend’s already over and it’s back to work. The crew’s fine talking among themselves, and Dex seems a little more cheerful without me interrupting things, so I stay quiet.

Work ticks on like it always does. Drive here. Drive there. Help occasionally. Smoke when I’m not needed. Come home. Barry’s there, and we still cuddle, but there’s this… air between us. I don’t know how to explain it. It’s like a piece of food that’s gone mouldy in the pantry but neither of us can find where it is.

This is all lingering aftereffects from that argument in the first scene, isn’t it?

The next evening after work, Barry and I watch TV in silence. It’s not as if we always need to talk, not that I really want to talk about my humdrum existence. But as we turn in for the night, Barry sleeps on his side, facing away from me. I ask what’s wrong, and he tells me he’s anxious, but I don’t know how to help him, especially with everything I’m dealing with myself. So I just spoon him and hope that’s enough.

Narrator: “It was absolutely not enough.”

The next day passes, I do my work, clock off and get home. Barry’s not there. He told me he wanted to see his friends from the other night again.

I summon enough willpower to make myself a stir-fry with mushrooms, and it doesn’t taste half bad. It’s nice cooking for myself for once. I wonder what it’d be like to cook for the Mach n’ Van crew, or Dex. He’s probably having a nice stir fry as we speak.

Yeah, I stand by that comment earlier about Glen wanting Dex in his life. Like intellectually, we all know it’s a bad idea, but Glen clearly isn’t emotionally at peace about that and hasn’t been the entire time.

I stare at my half-eaten dinner while the clock ticks on. I can’t find any videos to play on my phone while I dine alone, and give up after a minute of searching. I stab a charred mushroom, once, twice, three times. Then I fling the fork across the room so hard that it bends against a kitchen cupboard.

This sucks. I have nobody to talk to, except Barry. Yet that coworker of his gets to walk around freely with his boyfriend.

I swear I’m the only Pokemon in the world who has to deal with this.

Well, that’s doubtful since it’s a big world, but given that you don’t exactly talk with others…

Though it makes me wonder if there are the equivalent of Discord channels in this setting where Poképhiles can converse without fear of getting outed.

I don’t even say hello to Hammer the next morning, and he doesn’t say hello back. I think he’s stopped trying to be friendly with me. Dex is all cheerful to everyone else, but he’s weird around me now too.

I mean, even if he wasn’t still upset about the bait and switch, I’m sure that he’s noticed how your mood’s progressively fallen off a cliff in the days or weeks since this chapter started.

I don’t know how long I can stay here while Dex is in the crew. I never should’ve taken him in. I never should’ve even considered raising anyone in the position I’m in. I’m an idiot for even thinking I deserve him.

Yeeeeeeah, Glen really needs to open up to someone since this clearly is going to bad places in short order.

The day goes by in a blur, and I drive back to the Mach n’ Van base, up the steep hill that’s surrounded by trees and Stantler crossing signs. I should focus on getting us up that hill, but the crew’s talking to Dex.

“...a Conkeldurr made that house?” Dex asks.

“Yeah!” Rip says. “They’re all, like, architects and stuff!”

Huh, I wonder if they’re of any relation to Dex’s old dwelling leader or not.

“Not all of them,” Hammer butts in. “You say that like a Pokemon can just up and design some mansion by themselves.”

“Some of them can! Shows we can do some construction!”

Wait, is that Dex or Rip speaking there?

“I’ve done construction before,” Hammer grumbles. “Not my sort of thing, the way they treat Machoke there.”

Ah yes, just getting in another dash of “trained life sucks for Pokémon in this setting”. Though I suppose that construction workers getting treated as expendable cogs is depressingly true to reality both historically and even in some places in the modern day.

“Master Pillar makes these statues back home,” Dex chimes in.

“Oh yeah?”

“Uh huh. She likes takin’ these big chunks of stone and hammerin’ them. Dunno why she makes them. But she got me to try it. It was nice.”

Um… are we sure that it’s a good idea to get Dex thinking about home again? Since isn’t that logically going to get his mind on his parents?

“This Master Pillar sounds important,” Hammer says.

“Yeah…”

Dex’s voice lowers. He sounds sad, like he does whenever he talks about home, but my focus is on the road, not him or anyone else.

“I told, um…” He trails off again. I allow myself one glance at the rearview mirror, and I see him looking back at me. “She’s kind. Like you. She said I didn’t wanna go if I wasn’t ready. But I… a trainer– my parents–”

Dex’s voice cracks, then he starts sobbing.

Yeah, I figured that this was where things were going. Though I kinda wonder if the “I didn’t wanna go if I wasn’t ready” is a typo to something like “I didn’t have to go if I wasn’t ready” or if the word mixup is meant to reflect Dex tripping up and growing increasingly distraught.

“Hey…” Hammer pipes up. “Don’t cry, lil’ fella. What’s up?”

I mean...

“I wanna—” he hiccups–”wanna go home…”

… Also, that too. Guess Dex really did take getting denied a home and parental figures badly. I wonder if Galar also has a thing about ‘stiff upper lip’-ing, since if so… boy that day when he got upset must’ve been quite the moment.

I’m at the last bend on the slope while Dex is crying his eyes out. There are a set of sturdy trees in front of me. I need to keep my eyes on the road. I can’t crash here. But it’s hard to see when my eyes are misting up so much.

Small spacing error. And I think I’m beginning to see where the title for this chapter of this story is going to come into play.

Dex… He’s got nowhere else to go. I’d know what that’s like, more than anyone. And I just dumped him at my workplace.

Glen: “Gee, great going, Glen. Also, could that framing make me sound like any more of an asshole right now?” >_>;

I look back. Dex’s got his face buried in his hands as Hammer rubs his shoulder. I need to stop the car now, man the hell up, and be there for Dex. Salvage this somehow. I can make things right, I have to, I need to–

“GLEN!”

Hammer’s scream jerks me back to the front window as a pair of Stantler sprint from nearby bushes.

Soon to be ex-Stantler and an ex-car at this rate.

I tell myself I need to make the turn, but my body doesn’t register those thoughts. I swerve the wrong direction in the path of the Stantler, and they run, but I’m headed right towards the tree in front of me. I slam the brakes, but not fast enough to–

My teeth clack as we crash.

There’s an awful stillness in the van. Nobody’s hurt. Dex is fastened to his booster seat. But he’s all wide-eyed, probably in shock. He hasn’t spent long in a car, and I hoped that he’d never have to experience being in a crash.

Dex:

Glen: “Yeah, yeah, I know. Just been having a bang-up day on the job at this rate.”

I’ve been in a couple of crashes before, caused by humans who didn’t look where they were going. I’ve never caused one myself, let alone with a goddamn kid in the car.

Hammer glares daggers at me. He knows this shouldn’t have happened. He knows it’s my fault. I’m done. Done…

Oh Arceus above, what have I done?

I mean, at least you got your chance to hit up the PokéJobs system like Barry wanted you to?

Barry: “Not helping!” >.<

Shit, everything’s so hot; I’m dying in here. I stumble out of the van and into the wilderness, hurtling towards nothing, towards something, just anywhere but that fucking van. Thistles and brambles whip my arms, my feet twist in odd positions on these uneven hills, and my chest burns, yet still, I run, I have to, I have to get out of there, I have to get out of here, have to get out of this–

Um, Glen? I’m pretty sure that that’s a sign that you’re injured right now. .-.

I trip and hit the dirt, snout first. I see stars and taste mud. When I come to, I’m on some sort of hoof-beaten path. Wildflowers grow around the tracks, as if a stampede has forced the roots to part. And right in front of me, a bevy of Stantler bob their heads.

“Intruder!” one growls

“Get out!” another growls, stamping their feet.

“They almost killed me!” the couple I near-missed yell in unison. “They’re the enemy!”

Wow, this day is really pulling out all the stops for being an all-around crap day for Glen, huh? Cue the theme music:

View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zyXi-JBxWgA

I can make out what they’re saying, but their speech sounds more animalistic than any Pokemon I’m used to hearing, more coarse, more limited. These are wild Pokemon, through and through.

Oh, so wild Pokémon are still conversant in this setting. Interesting to see that they have inherently different speech and cognitive patterns than Pokémon that live in and around humans. Makes me wonder if there’s a reason why we haven’t seen that much from Dex, or if he just got acclimated to non-wild norms quickly in the Day Care.

I get to my knees, raising my bruised arms to try and intimidate them, but they don’t back away. Deep down, I know whatever I do won’t work. I’m outmatched. I can’t stop staring at their antlers either. They’re mesmerising. I know that’s their defense against predators, but at some point, I stop caring and feel myself being sucked into those black orbs. They feel like they hold so much power. Not like me.

The buck charges at me, antlers first. I don’t care. If I die here, then that’s fine.

I’ll take “Thoughts that will age terribly in 10 seconds” for $500, Alex.

But that doesn’t happen. Hammer happens. He pushes the Stantler by its antlers, his bare feet kicking up clumps of mud as he tries to anchor himself. Once he finds his footing, he lunges forward with enough force that it flips the buck on its back.

The bevy bleat and bark in distress.

“You monster!” the doe screams.

“Get him!”

Well, I hope you all like eating venison, since that’s a lot of deer picking a rather ill-advised fight by relative type matchups at the moment.

Two of the four charge in at once, but Hammer dodges one of them, and punches the other in the side with so much force that it crashes into a tree. The other attacker almost steadies itself, but Hammer uses all four arms to pick it up by its rump and throw it at the other two Stantler. One of them cushions the fall of the other, and they both topple to the ground. Only the doe is left standing.

Doe:

“Make like a tree and get lost, all of you!” he yells, beating his chest. “If you ever charge at us again or cross the road without looking, I’ll turn you into venison!”

Oh, so the venison angle did come up. Though that actually makes me wonder how common it is for Pokémon to just bluntly threaten to eat each other in aggressive encounters like this in-setting.

The Stantler stagger to their feet. The buck hobbles back to his doe, only for her to turn her head as they disappear into the forest.

Hammer did all of that. And here I thought he was huffing his own fumes the whole time. He turns back to me without even needing to take a breather.

Such is the power of being a Machamp and not just giving up on battling for years on end.

“Hammer–” I start, only to get a knuckle sandwich from him. I tumble to the ground, tasting my own nosebleed. “Why the fuck did you do that?!”

Hammer: “Oh, I don’t know. There’s the part where you’ve been a giant ass to Dex and then ignoring him. Oh, and the moving van you just totaled by not keeping your damn eyes on the road.”

“Because you’re a huge pain in my rear!” Hammer shouts. “You’ve been acting like a huge jerk all week, and now you almost get us killed? Twice?! Is anything even happening in that thick skull of yours?”

Glen: “Wait, twice? But I only hit a tree-” .-.
Hammer: “Just because I could deal with those Stantler doesn’t mean it wasn’t dangerous!”

I don’t have the energy to lash out at him this time. He’s right.

“Get up and start walking. As soon as we get back home, I’m getting your butt fired.”

Well, looks like Glen will have to take Barry’s advice about the PokéJobs system to heart a lot sooner than anticipated at this rate.

I haven’t heard that ‘f’ word in ages. Fired. Sometimes, it comes with relief. Other times, it’s meant a diet of instant noodles for weeks on end. Even though we’re both working, it would be a blow to Barry if I stopped.

Yet, right now, this isn’t about the job. I was worried I’d lose it if I ever talked about my relationship, but I’ve got nothing left to lose. Hammer should at least know why I’ve been such a shithead to him and Dex.

Just as Hammer turns to stomp off away from the forest, I take in a deep breath.

“I’m seeing a human.”

View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gNHooTszyW4


Glen: “... Wait, wasn’t it established that me being open about this risked Barry also getting fired from his job-?”

Hammer stops. My blood turns cold. I’ve just said it. I don’t feel relieved. I feel like sinking into the mud.

“I’ve been with him for two years.” The words just tumble out despite my gnawing dread. “He’s not my trainer. We just met at a gig. We wanted to raise Dex together.”

Boy, I sure hope that Hammer’s an understanding type, since… uh… if he’s not, you’re probably going to be on a few blacklists at this rate, Glen. .-.

I can’t read Hammer’s expression with his back turned to me.

“That’s all I wanted. Something to look forward to. Someone like Dex. And I’ve fucked it up.”

I dig both my dirt-crusted hands into my arms. So many things race through my mind, but my throat feels like sandpaper and I can’t get anything out.

Glen: “Hammer? For gods’ sake, at least say something back to me here!”

Hammer turns. His face is blank. I thought he would’ve been frothing at the mouth.

“You didn’t think of telling me this before?” he asks.

I blink. “What?”

Well, Hammer confirmed for being the understanding type after all. Though I suppose it’d be a bit hard to have a hunky-dory fourth part like the next chapter’s title seems to imply if Hammer just turned and kicked Glen while he was down like he feared.

“Seriously, I knew you were hiding something.” His shoulders sag. “Yes, I’m Mister Nosy. We’ve been working all this time, heck, even longer than before you met this human, and you can’t even trust me with that?”

[ ]

“I thought you’d hate me.” I sigh. “It’s not like you’d understand what it’s like.”

“Get over yourself.” He snorts. “Jeez, some of the stories I’ve heard from the Machoke I’ve taken in would make your skin crawl.”

[ ]

“Really?”

I feel as if Glen’s thought process here is something that would be really additive to explore here. e.x. that feeling of confusion and then relief when he comes out and doesn’t have his worst fears about owning up to being a humanophile come to pass.

“Well, it’s not as if you’ve made an effort to get to know any of the crew. We’re supposed to be a team, y’know.” His eyes flash in realisation. “Oh… is this the human I called a weirdo?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh. Well, sorry.”

Glen:

“... Even if now I’m feeling really stupid that I didn’t think of trying this in the past.” >.<
Hammer: “Oi, don’t go getting too comfortable. You’re still in trouble for that van you wrecked!” >_>

My grip slackens, my arms dead weights. I don’t say anything. Hammer doesn’t either. The moment is still as wind rustles leaves overhead, birds chirp, and Stantler hooves beat in the distance.

“You know, Glen, I thought you were nuts for wanting to raise Dex on your own. But you’re even more nuts for wanting to raise him with a human.”

Glen: “And just what’s that supposed to mean?”

“That’s why I can’t take him in.” I get to my sore knees. “I really wanted to. Still want to. And my human– I mean, Barry’s so nice. He’s got so much to give. I want to give something back to someone like Dex who deserves a chance. Not that I can do much now.”

“And you love this human? You trust him with Dex?”

“I mean, yeah, he’s fun to be around, he’s a great cook, he’s good with kids–”

Hammer’s just going to tell him to throw caution to the wind and embrace fatherhood, huh?

“Okay, I don’t need the whole list.”

Hammer takes in a deep breath. I can see it travel down his neck and into his bulging chest. I admit, I’m jealous of his body. That might be the reason why I’ve been so cold to him.

Ah yes, envy. That would certainly help™ with having an amiable and friendly relationship. /s

He looks up. It’s getting dark.

“Glen.” He approaches me. “I know I’ve given you a lot of advice you never asked for, but I suggest you pick yourself up, apologise to Dex and invite him to your place.”

Dex:

“Wait, Hammer, are you pulling my leg, or-?”
Hammer: “No, I mean it, Glen. Especially since you promised him this to begin with.”

[ ]

“I thought you didn’t want him around my crummy flat.”

“Shut up a sec, Glen,” he says as his back hands gesticulate. “I said it was gonna be tough. I didn’t say it wasn’t doable. I mean, what do I know? I’ve never rented before.”

[ ]


“But how do I tell Dex about Barry?”

“I dunno. You’ve brought this on yourself. But if you’re gonna get involved in his life, and if you really wanna help him or give him a place he can call home, then do it. If he doesn’t like you being with a human, he’ll find someone else. At least it shows you’ve made an effort.”

Some more spots where seeing Glen’s mind in action would probably go a long way to adding to this scene. Like I assume there’s a lot going on inside at the moment for him, but it doesn’t really come through at the moment.

It takes me some time to process what he’s saying, and I still can’t quite believe what I’m hearing. I have too many questions I want to ask, but that doesn’t matter as Hammer’s offering me his hand. I look him up and down. He’s nicked with little cuts from the brambles and thistles too.

I take it, and he pulls me up with his firm grip, then pats my back. But he doesn’t let go. He’s hugging me.

That sounds like a recipe for pain considering Machamp’s body strength, just saying. ^^;

I can feel his warmth, just like Barry’s. It’s almost too much. I feel like crying, but I know that the last thing Hammer needs is another blubbering mess on his hands, so I keep it in and let go.

I’ll take the under on Glen managing to keep his composure through the rest of this chapter, really.

“You good?” he asks, to which I nod. “Good. Then let’s get back.”

We follow the hoof trail back to where I crashed the van. The rest of the gang is doing stretches on the side of the road. Dex is sitting on the bank, pulling up blades of grass. He looks up at me, then looks back down. Everyone else is giving me a hard stare, expecting me to work my magic. The front of the van is all dinged up. It’s not totalled, as it only bent the front, but there’s smoke billowing from the front. The radiator’s busted. One other skill that got me through life was the ability to fix cars, but I can’t fix this.

Um. Are you sure that it’s not totaled, Glen? Since just saying, it’s not that hard to total a modern vehicle between the crumple zones and all the sensors jammed into everything.

“We need to get it towed,” I say.

There’s a collective groan.

“Awww!” Rip throws his head back. “I’m gonna miss the Rex Revolver match!”

“Quit your whining,” Hammer snarls. “Glen, make yourself useful and tell me how far we’ve got to the base.”

I type in the address on our maps app. “A one minute drive.”

So… like half an hour by walking, then? Unless this was a lower-speed road here. ^^;

Of course, we were literally a minute away before the crash. Just my luck. It’s going to take about half an hour at the least for a tow driver to come, with how remote the Mach n’ Van base is.

inb4 Hammer and the others just bail and leave Glen alone with Dex and the mauled van.

Without even stopping, Hammer single-handedly pushes the van back onto the road.

“Alright, everyone, help me push this up!”

… Or they could do that. That works, too.

The crew hops to it right away, even Rip. With Hammer’s coordination, they’re able to turn it to face the hill. All they need to do is push it.

In all my time working, I’ve never seen anything like this. I know we’re strong, but I didn’t know we were that strong together. I’d say it was inspiring if I still had that sort of power. The only one left behind is Dex, who’s still sitting on the grass.

So… apology time? Or is Glen going to wait on the rest of the gang getting a bit of distance before he pours his heart out here?

I sit beside him, tucking my knees to my chest. I don’t quite know how to make it up to him. I don’t know how I can. But I need to try.

Well, that one was fast. Though I take it that this is where the climax you were referring to for this story’s going to come into play.

Dex breathes in and out. I breathe in and out with him. After a while, it feels like we’re in sync. That’s a good opportunity for me to speak up.

“Hammer told me you were mad at me the other day.”

“Uh huh..” Dex sniffles and wipes his bloodshot eyes. “You’re mean.”

Glen: “Yeah, I… kinda deserve that one with the way I’ve been acting this week, huh?”

I deserve that. “I’m sorry. I should’ve checked in to see how you were doing.”

Man, when I call ‘em, I can call ‘em.

“You’re mean to the Machoke too. They always say you ignore them. They just wanna talk.”

I sigh. “I know that now.”

Glen: “I guess I was just a bit afraid of opening up around them.”

He stands up and punches my shoulder. Ow. The kid can actually pack a mean punch, though I don’t show it hurts. I can’t be mad at him. He gasps at my bloody nose.

“Your face.”

I wipe my dried blood with a handkerchief. “Hammer gave me a good telling off.”

>“telling off”

I was going to counter this, but then I remembered that it was established that Machop line Pokémon literally have an entire language based around punching, so maybe getting beaned in the nose is just telling off in that language.

“Good.” He crosses his arms and turns his head away.

[ ]


“I’m sorry, Dex. I’m really sorry, I so badly wanted to be your dad–”

“I don’t want new parents.” Even though it must hurt for him to say, he keeps it together. “I just don’t wanna be left behind.”

Huh. I wasn’t expecting that one. Though I see another spot where it might have been worth showing off Glen’s thought process a bit more.

“You won’t. You have Hammer and the crew.”

Dex still doesn’t turn. I sigh, knowing he needs to hear me say this.

“And you have me. I want you in my life even if I might not be your dad, Dex. You’re great. I’m not gonna give up on you.”

Dex: “That’d mean more if you literally didn’t ghost me on the day you took me from the Day Care, just saying.”

I’m on my knees, almost begging for him to hear me out.

“I didn’t take you in because I was afraid you’d be unhappy with me.” I try to smile, even though it hurts. “But I was being an idiot.”

Dex turns, though he’s still cross with me.

Glen: “Look, I know it’s not an excuse, but… will you listen to what I have to say here?”

“We never got to have dinner together. I want to show you my place first. There’s someone very special I want you to meet too. He plays music. I know you like music too. I think you’ll like each other.

His shoulders relax.

“You don’t have to stay. You may not want to. But I want to give you a choice, Dex. It’s your life.”

I mean, at the very least, we know he comes by the flat based on the next chapter title, but let’s see how that journey to that destination goes…

“My life.” He blinks, and looks back up at me. Then he looks at the van. “Should we help them?”

“Yeah.”

Glen: “That would probably be wise since I might not have a job here at the end of the day with what happened to the van.” ^^;

Dex steps forward, about to go with the crew, but he turns back to me, tilting his head. “When can I come around?”

He still wants to see us. See me. But he’s got to make up his mind about Barry yet.

“How about tomorrow? We can do that Bunnelby stew.”

He only gives a slight smile, but it’s enough. “Sounds good.”

Yeah, I knew it. Though boy this is really endearing to see play out after two and two-thirds of a chapter of things progressively spiraling for Glen’s aspirations of fatherhood.

Dex joins the crew pushing the van uphill. I join them too, thinking I’ll just be dead weight. They’re handling it just fine. But they ever so slightly advance up the hill quicker with me around.

Huh. I wonder if that means that Glen’s fighting strength is a bit less shot than he presumed earlier on in this story.

We somehow push it all the way up to the driveway before collapsing in a panting heap. That’s probably the most exercise I’ve gotten in a while. I can’t imagine how Hammer feels, as even he’s sprawled out on the lawn, huffing and puffing.

Wait, just how long did it take them to make it back anyways? Though I take it that Machoke/champ work best with their strength being drawn out in bursts as opposed to endurance given how winded the entire gang is right now.

The human owners run over to us. The man, pushing fifty, handles most of the logistics, sorting out van repairs and renovations for the lodging, and is the closest to Hammer. The woman, firmly in her fifties, is the brains of the operation, getting customers for us, sorting out pay, and dealing with the administrative stuff I’m glad I don’t have to deal with. Together, they’re a freaking power couple.

“What happened?” the man yells. “Are you guys alright?”

I lazily wave a hand up.

“We crashed–” I say in between breaths–”blame the Stantler.”

I mean, the others could shoot a bunch of holes into this if so inclined, but I’m going to guess that Hammer will back Glen up in this case.

“I told them to get those things off the bloody road!”

“Radiator’s busted too.”

The woman huffs. “That’ll cost me more than an arm. Oh well, glad you made it back.”

Huh, so Mach ‘N Van is a one-vehicle operation. I didn’t get that vibe originally, but I suppose it makes sense if the human workforce is two humans who are starting to get into retirement age.

The man investigates the van and checks on Hammer while the woman goes back into the house. I get to my feet and pat my muddy clothes. I so badly need a shower and a smoke. It’d be so tempting to go back to my place and crash, but I don’t even know if I have a job after this.

Glen: “... Right, Hammer didn’t say anything about whether or not he’d help me keep my job or not.”

Hammer gets up before the rest do. He signs something to the human with all four hands, and the human signs back at staggering speeds. So they don’t need to speak to communicate with one another. Are they talking about me? The human’s checking the van, so he isn’t on my ass about what happened.

Huh, so Hammer and the owners have some sort of internal sign language. I wonder who learned that from who here.

Hammer’s about to go back in the house, but I tail after him, stopping him by the annex door.

“What do you want, Mister Stalker?” he says, gesturing to his mud-caked legs. “I’m filthy.”

I know I should leave him to shower off, but I just can’t hang around while my job is in jeopardy.

“So, what happens now? With the job, I mean.”

“Well, the van’s fine. Nobody got hurt. I expect to see you tomorrow.”

Yeah, I figured that Hammer wouldn’t have given Glen that whole spiel about making things up with Dex just to summarily cut the legs out from under him.

[ ]

“I thought you were gonna fire me.”

“I’m well within my right to.” He huffs. “Whatever. Just don’t screw this up next time.”

And I see the shenanigans bumming around on PokéJobs will need to wait for another day. Though it might have been worth showing off whether or not Glen expected Hammer’s answer here or not. Like I assume that Glen wasn’t expecting this answer given how much he was worried about what Hammer was up to, but it’s all very implicit at the moment.

Somehow, I’m relieved, even if it isn’t a job I’m over the moon about taking. “Thank you. So that’s it today?”

“Yeah, unless you wanna hang around for paella tonight, not that you have to.” He grins. “I hope your boyfriend isn’t holding you hostage.”

“Of course he isn’t.”

“I’m only joking.” He chuckles and slaps my back before he heads back inside. I’m not that annoyed when he does it this time.

Well, that might be overstating things more than a little bit, but it’s definitely quite a change from how Glen viewed Hammer even at the outset of this chapter. I suppose that’s a sign that he’ll be a bit less snippy and withdrawn from his coworkers in the future.

I look out to the crew who are playing football in the garden as if nothing happened. Huh, I’ve only seen them pull that ball out a few times. Dex is standing to the side, tilting his head at this strange game they’re playing, but Rip kicks the ball to him and Dex passes it back. They go back and forth, and Rip points to the field, probably showing the kid the ropes.

Huh. I suppose a good deal of human culture does not filter over to wild Pokémon via osmosis, since I’ll admit, I did a bit of a double-take at seeing (international) football being treated as a weird thing even if it makes sense from Dex’s perspective.

I don’t need to stay here. I’m seeing everyone else tomorrow anyway. I don’t even know if I’m good at football. Yet I think back to my outing with Barry and his nerdy human friends, and know I don’t belong with them on that board game table.

I don’t quite know what I’m going to do tonight, but I hope I’ll make my mind up on the phone to Barry.

I mean, you do owe Dex that Bunnelby stew still, so…

“Hey, Glen!” he says. He sounds happy to hear from me.

“Yo.” I take a deep breath. Might as well tear the bandaid off. “So, long story short, I’ve spoken to Dex about coming to our place. He wants dinner tomorrow, if possible.”

Okay, yeah, I figured that’s where things were going, even if the chapter listing is a bit of a spoiler.

“Wait, what?” Barry’s voice rises. “So you are inviting him around?”

“Yeah.” Oh, right, again, I made a decision on his behalf when I called the thing off to begin with. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s fine, it’s just…” He hums. “What made you change your mind?”

Should I tell him I spilled my guts out to Hammer? No, not yet.

Glen: “Oh, you know. Just got a stiff punch to the face by reality to snap me back to reason. (Also, is my nose still bloodied at the moment?)” ^^;

“My mind never changed. I always wanted him around. I was just being a dumbass.”

“You’re not. Don’t worry. It’ll be nice to see him.”

“It will be.” Another deep breath. Deep breaths, one two. There’s so much I want to get off my chest. “Barry. Things have been weird between us all week.”

I mean… yeah, since Glen kinda went into a grief / depressive spiral for a while after that fight. Though even if it was stated earlier in this scene, I do wonder if there should’ve been a bit more attention given to the passage of time in the short scenes showing the week flying by earlier on.

“It’s been a weird week.” He sighs. “You know it’s been the usual for me, but I think I needed some time out of the house. I’m feeling better for it, though.”

“So things are still cool between us?”

“Yeah? And yourself?”

I mull over what to say. I never know how to answer that, like those questions he asks about how work went. But talking to Hammer solved things. Why can’t I do the same with Barry?

Because you’re still upset over that fight and the whole bit where he basically said you were better off not having Dex around?

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, I’ve just been worried–”

“I’m still sorry about what I said the other night. I don’t think we really resolved that still.”

A beat, then Barry hums.

“It’s okay. I said some hurtful stuff too.”

Ah yes, nature is healing~ <3

“You did. I really don’t appreciate the comment about Dex. I know you didn’t mean it, but that’s fucked me up all week, if I’m being honest.”

“I figured. I was trying not to beat myself up about it all week.” He sighs. “If it helps, I think you would be a great dad.”

I try not to let those words sting me. I can’t be a dad to Dex [ ], but maybe I can be the next best thing.

I kinda wonder if it’d make sense for Glen to spell out why he can’t be a dad with a more explicit acknowledgement of “right, reality is a thing and not everyone’s going to be as understanding as Hammer”. Since the easy and cheap sentimental route would be Glen just going “we’ll make it work” here, so seeing the wheels turning to go towards “er… no, that still won’t work” might be worthwhile to depict.

“Okay.” I flex my bruised knuckles. “And I’m sorry again for punching the wall. I thought I was better than that.”

“It’s fine, we’ll cover it up.”

I don’t think the landlord would agree, but that’s beside the point.

That’s a “then” problem and not a “now” one. Guess you’d better start looking around for a contractor in the background before he notices, huh? ^^;

“Dex wants Bunnelby stew, by the way. I didn’t get to tell you that before, but that’s his favourite dish.”

“I’ll see what I can do. I like a good challenge.”

“Looking forward to it.”

I was going to ask where on earth would they even get the Bunnelby meat from, but apparently this is just straight-up sold at UK Tescos IRL. TIL, since that’s definitely a very alien experience for me on the other side of the pond.

I think Barry fancies burgers tonight. It hits the spot sometimes even though it’s gross and fatty. But honestly? I fancy something with rice. I haven’t had a dish like that since Barry’s curry. Whatever Hammer’s cooking up in the kitchen smells gorgeous and onion-y. Dex would like it.

“And don’t worry about dinner tonight. The Machamp here’s got his signature paella.”

Oh, so he is warming up to the rest of the moving gang. Though this feels like a pretty good bookend moment as a climax to your story. Even if the denouement wound up getting its own update.

Alright, let’s get right into that end-of-review summary that I like to do, starting off with a summary of this story thus far in an exploitable reaction image:

I’ll admit, at the very beginning, I did a double-take at the premise and was a little skeptical as to how much I’d relate with the characters, but all throughout the story and in particular in this chapter, you do a good job at bringing out their emotions and making them feel organic even if they’re quite obviously in a fantastical setting with fantastical problems. It makes it all the more impactful when Glen ultimately gets a resolution to his running conflict between his yearnings for fatherhood while balancing being in a precarious social situation. What was shown of the setting was also a lot of fun to see. You clearly had quite a bit of fun pulling from your IRL surroundings and coming up with quirks of various cultural fixtures of a Pokémon world and its inhabitants, which I take is a bit of a recurring trend from your writing in general since this was also present in your other stories that I’ve read.

While it might sound a bit trite, the big thing that I found myself wishing from this story was that there was more. I mean, there’s very obviously a denouement where Glen will presumably make good on his promise to Dex, a part of me does wonder if the format this story is told in a fairly rigid 3( well, now 4)-parter undercut the chance to show off that world a bit more. Like there’s repeated hints as to how life for Pokémon living in and around humans often has a bum deal in this setting, but we don’t get to see all that much of it frontally when it feels like it’d be prime bait for reinforcing Glen’s outlook on life, fears, and resentments up until the climax of this chapter. Like had you been so inclined, it could’ve very easily provided fodder for an entire chapter focused on Glen’s week where he’s spiraling harder and harder after his argument with Barry as opposed to the compressed sequence we got. I similarly thought that there were a few moments in this chapter where you had some missed opportunities for showing off character mood / internal thoughts in more detail. Like the chapter still works without them, and it might just be my authorial preferences speaking, but showing off more of the workings of Glen’s mind, especially at times when he might be more opinionated or obviously flailing feels like something that would lean in harder with how tightly this story follows his perspective.

Though that’s all for now. It’ll probably take me a bit before I get around to reading the final part of this story since I’m admittedly a bit swamped with other reading commitments, but I had a good time with these past three chapters, @NebulaDreams . You have a knack for breathing Pokémon settings to life through the eyes of their resident beasties, and I’ll be looking forward to coming back to this story and to your other fare sometime soon.

 

[NebulaDreams]

Hi @Spiteful Murkrow, thanks a lot for these three reviews! I’m spoiled by your reviews since you seem to put a lot of effort in to them, so I appreciate it. I won’t respond to every comment but I’ll try to go through it and address the noteworthy ones.

> Ah yes, nothing like a bout of good old-fashioned physical intimidation to set your clients straight. I mean, it’ll probably be absolutely terrible for Mach n’ Van’s Yelp reviews afterwards, but that’s a “then” problem for later on, I presume.

That perhaps came across a tad too strongly, I didn’t think of it as Glen sizing it up rather than him keeping his distance and just about avoiding physically intimidating him, since verbal humiliation is more his speed.

> I would suggest that Glen invest in an Eviolite, but given his remark about how he’d never be able to afford a place like this in his life, I suspect he might have troubles getting the cash to pick one up.

Huh, that might’ve been a fun thing to incorporate into the story, but for the most part, I’ve thrown a lot of the game mechanics out of this world for the sake of the story. Same with stuff like PC storage.

> Ah, so the others on the crew are working through PokéJobs at the moment, huh? I find it kinda funny that that makes this the second story you’ve written following a Machop line Pokémon with that featured prominently, even if Glen isn’t an active user of it himself.

If I had a nickel for every Pokejobs story I wrote featuring the Machop line… I’d have two nickels.

> That makes me wonder what the requirements are for a Pokémon to be able to get a drivers’ license in this setting. If obviously ‘be able to work the pedals and wheels’.

Also good food for thought. Something I didn’t really explain since this takes place after he’s had to jump through those hoops, but it’s more an issue of documentation, proving citizenship, and knowing people who can arrange such a thing when the laws surrounding Pokémon are still in flux in this world.

> Though I see that this house and field are basically the moving company equivalent of a dorm for Glen and his fellow Pokémon movers. Duly noted, even if I kinda get the feeling that things aren’t fully on the up-and-up here, since this setup feels like it’d be absolutely ripe for economic exploitation.

Oh yeah, totally, though I don’t think I’d ever seen a story explore how a Machoke delivery crew would actually live with such a working environment, since it doesn’t sit well with me that they’d just return to their Pokeballs after each job.

> I’m now mentally picturing Barry as one of those visibly rotund Backpacker NPCs.

I did actually use the hiker npc from Gen VI as reference for drawing him. I didn’t actually post the art for either character but I will do in the bonus content I’ll post soon.

> Wait, is this a Bloody Roar knockoff, or-

FINALLY SOMEONE ELSE REMEMBERS THAT GAME!

> Okay, nevermind. They were wild. Probably. Maybe. Makes me wonder what their wild life even looks like based on these details here. Though I can already tell that Master Pillar was a Conkeldurr.

I do delve into this in I, Isobel (rather the old version), but of course, it varies from dwelling to dwelling, as one group of wild Pokémon, especially human-like Pokémon that are more intelligent and are capable of using tools are vastly different from hunter-gatherer Pokémon.

> Lol. Lmao. Perhaps it’s different out in Europe, but at least in the US, corporate chains related to selling food are kinda infamous for food waste.

This one was a tricky line since it’s more from Glen’s outside perspective and also him reassuring Dex. Here, waste is still pretty bad. There are local community efforts towards saving surplus food but places like cafes still waste a ton. I’d have to throw out hundreds of pounds of desserts once a day working at a supermarket cafe at one point.

> Huh, so cigarettes are illegal to sell to Pokémon in this setting? Or am I missing a step here for what Glen’s getting at?

Nope, you’re right, he has to pay another human to buy them, as with alcohol. I probably could’ve explained that further but I didn’t want it to come across as a break in his narration for exposition’s sake.

> Well, that sounds like fun™ to deal with. Like given the author’s commentary in the OP, I assume that this is drawing heavy inspiration off of the experience of closeted LGBT individuals, even if I have to wonder just how common Poképhilic pairings are such that Barry’s parents apparently have known negative opinions about them.

Given how I am gay, of course, a lot of that paranoia about showing any affection in public fed into this story. It’s not a 1:1 analogue since it was just interesting to explore how it would be treated in this world since the dynamic is quite different from the real world.

> Yeah, I winced after reading this. Barry’s really going downhill at the moment, huh? Though I wonder if this sort of response he's having originates from his family life at all.

I wanted to leave a lot of things to the imagination since there isn’t really the scope for Barry’s backstory in this story, but yeah, a lot of unresolved trauma there.

> … Can’t tell if that’s meant to be Maylene, or the explanation behind why Riley never got successfully headhunted into being a Gym Leader the Sinnoh League by Byron.

You’re not the first to make that comparison, but I’ll just say that Maylene and other canonical gym leaders in the Pokémon games/anime don’t exist in this world. I would’ve found it a little icky otherwise to imply that Maylene was in a relationship with her Lucario.

> I have to wonder how much of this is internalized from human culture, since that’s a lot of self-consciousness over things I’d have expected Glen to just take for granted about himself.

Yuuuuup, a lot of internalised hatred there for reasons that should be evident in previous sections. Just the gap of idealising himself as one thing that would make his life easier while being something else.

> I’ll admit, at the very beginning, I did a double-take at the premise and was a little skeptical as to how much I’d relate with the characters, but all throughout the story and in particular in this chapter, you do a good job at bringing out their emotions and making them feel organic even if they’re quite obviously in a fantastical setting with fantastical problems.

That’s great to hear, especially since I wanted to ease people in with the character writing and portraying the issue in a convincing way. I can’t really get around people doing a double take at the premise since it’s not something I can pull a switcheroo with in the summary, but I’m glad you saw past that and I hope others will too.

> While it might sound a bit trite, the big thing that I found myself wishing from this story was that there was more. I mean, there’s very obviously a denouement where Glen will presumably make good on his promise to Dex, a part of me does wonder if the format this story is told in a fairly rigid 3( well, now 4)-parter undercut the chance to show off that world a bit more. Like there’s repeated hints as to how life for Pokémon living in and around humans often has a bum deal in this setting, but we don’t get to see all that much of it frontally when it feels like it’d be prime bait for reinforcing Glen’s outlook on life, fears, and resentments up until the climax of this chapter. Like had you been so inclined, it could’ve very easily provided fodder for an entire chapter focused on Glen’s week where he’s spiraling harder and harder after his argument with Barry as opposed to the compressed sequence we got.

That’s understandable. I couldn’t really touch upon a lot about how Pokémon as a whole co-exist with humans in the scope of this story, so focusing on that more would’ve distracted from Glen’s plight. The story already ended up being longer than I intended hence why I originally set it up as three chapters. It also might’ve made the story a bit too depressing if I hammered in the raw deal Pokemon her living around humans in that world, though there’s definitely a space to explore it in a longer work or something with a different premise.

> I similarly thought that there were a few moments in this chapter where you had some missed opportunities for showing off character mood / internal thoughts in more detail. Like the chapter still works without them, and it might just be my authorial preferences speaking, but showing off more of the workings of Glen’s mind, especially at times when he might be more opinionated or obviously flailing feels like something that would lean in harder with how tightly this story follows his perspective.

I still have a tough time figuring out a balance between natural character narration and exposition since sometimes it is a necessary evil. One thing I hate is having exposition where it wouldn’t naturally be in the narration and dialogue, so I try to avoid that when I can, but I can also overcorrect and some moments can come across as underwritten and not grounded in the protag’s POV and thoughts. You were on the money about a lot of observations, where my writing elicited the intended reaction, but others I can see I didn’t elaborate on enough.

In any case, thanks a lot for looking at this! I hope you check out the denouement and the bonus content if you have time.

 

[NebulaDreams]

Spoiler: Art of Glen

Spoiler: Art of Barry

And now for some bonus content! I wrote this as a prequel to Beasts Like Us since I liked the idea of seeing Glen and Barry’s start to their relationship in person and it ended up being a fun way to introduce a couple of new elements to their dynamic.

However, I originally wrote this with a… different intent. I had to cut a significant chunk from this story to make it safe to attach to this fic since I didn’t want to lock people out of experiencing this story just because of a couple of scenes. However, I believe those scenes change the context of the story in a way that this version unfortunately loses.

I won’t tell you where to find that version, but you can probably do some digging on AO3. As it is, this prequel story is rated T, with the same content warnings as before, with an implied fade to black near the end.

---

Before Beasts: Inhumane and Beautiful​

I light up while I watch the Mach n’ Van crew trying to wedge an oversized settee into the narrow doorframe of our client’s terraced house. I’ve done my part, driving them up here, and they don’t need me slowing them down. Besides, I’ve got Barry on my mind.

I love him, from the tip of my hat to where my tail used to be down to the bottoms of my feet. Every part of me yearns for him, his touch, his kindness, his every essence. Yet he’s a human. Every human I get tangled with turns out to be a massive douche. But Barry’s different. I hope.

The grass rustles. I slump, anticipating Hammer’s usual slap on the back whenever I’m smoking behind the van.

“Hey, Glen,” Hammer says, holding up a chair with his back set of arms. I swear he does it just to show off. “You’re awfully quiet today. Even more than usual.”

I tap my cigarette; the wind carries the ashes of its burned-out tip away. “Uh huh.”

“And you’re not gonna tell me why, I bet.”

I suppress my breath, smoke pluming from my nostrils. I try to read his face, though his brow ridge doesn’t give me a lot to work with, and Machamp just always look smug with those big lips even when I know Hammer’s got more sense than that. Why don’t I just spit it out?

I can’t. I might as well quit my job right now if I tell Hammer I’ve fallen for a human. But who else can I talk to?

“I’ve got a date tonight,” I half-lie. It’s not technically a date since neither of us have confessed, but there’s a lot between us that’s unsaid. Friends don’t generally go to someone else’s house for drinks after a dinner and a show.

“That’s it?” He snorts. “I thought you were gonna tell me that evil landlord kicked you out.”

“I wouldn’t put it past him, but no.” I sigh. I’m not looking forward to begging the landlord to fix the leaking sink for the millionth time.

“What, so it’s just Butterfree in your stomach?”

I take a long deep drag. How much do I tell him?

So many names flash through my mind. Scott, Axel, Mister Sir Jeff Motherfucker. Their faces, like masks made of human skin, haunt me.

“I’ve also just been burned by so many others before. You think you can trust someone with this little piece of you, then they rip it from you and stamp on it like… I dunno, a packet of crisps.”

I kick away a stray Pokemunch bag on the pavement. For a split second, that itch to fight surges through me like a phantom limb, but it’s gone just as soon as it appears. I keep puffing, trying to mask the feeling with yet another nicotine hit.

“It fucking sucks.” Cursing in human provides little relief. “I’m either gonna blow it tonight or they’re gonna disappoint me like always—“

Hammer grips my shoulder, chair still nestled in his back arms. I try to shrug it off, but the fight in me goes with his touch.

“It’s okay. You’ll either bag a nice Machoke, or you won’t.” He tilts his head. “Sorry, some other fighting type your age.”

Most of the Machoke in the current delivery crew are basically roided-up teenagers. Two of them are playing catch with a fragile box as we speak.

“Hey!” Hammer yells. “Cut that out!” He shakes his head. “See what I mean? But you get my point. If it doesn’t work out, just try again.”

It’s easy for a Pokémon like him to say when he rubbed shoulders with the Elite Four. At least he doesn’t slip in a humblebrag about his League career this time.

“I guess that’s all I can do, just try.”

“Good. And if that Pokémon of yours wants some honest work, I’ll put in a good word for them.”

I watch Hammer carry the chair into the flat as I take one last, long drag, right down to the tip. Whatever I’m feeling still gnaws at my gut, and it probably will throughout the day’s remainder. But whether I fuck it up or Barry fucks it up, at least I tried. That’s more than most lovesick humans would probably say.

---

“So you’ve got a table for… two? Where’s your trainer?”

I suck in a deep breath. I saw that question coming from a mile away, and it touches a nerve every time, but I will not be rude to the waiter, no matter what.

“It’s booked under Barry,” I say. “He’s working late.” At least I hope that’s the reason he’s late. Hopefully this human doesn’t call my bluff.

“Okay, can’t argue with that.” The waiter picks up two menus. “Come right this way.”

He leads me through the restaurant. All sorts of couples and families dine together, with seldom a Pokemon to be seen. From the stares diners shoot me to the way the waiter hovers over my shoulder as if I need a crash course on how to order a fucking steak, it’s clear I don’t belong here. The Captain’s Table totally isn’t my vibe, but I thought it would’ve been a good middle ground between my tastes and Barry’s.

My pocket itches. There’s no way they’d let anyone smoke in here, let alone a Pokémon. I’d order a beer to soothe my nerves, but there’s an even slimmer chance they’d serve a Pokémon alcohol.

“I’ll just get two Psycho Sodas at the bar.” I whip out my wallet. “Put it on my tab.”

“That’s, um, that’s fine.” The waiter excuses himself; now I can drink my cheap sugar water in peace.

Barry’s soda sweats onto the foam coaster. The thing’s drenched by the time I finish my drink. The waiter ducks in and out, clearly trying to avoid talking to the strange Machoke but still checking that I haven’t picked a fight or some shit.

My eyes start wandering to the stock photos of pasta dishes on the walls, then to a human family of five celebrating their son’s eighteenth, marked with a big blue balloon. His father has his arm around his shoulder, they’re talking about his gap year plans to visit Sinnoh, then the son impresses them by talking in Sinnohan.

This is silly, I know. It’s nothing more than a pipe dream. Yet I imagine what a Machop of my own would look like, and if he would thrive in a world like this. Maybe by the time I’m old and he’s a Machoke, he’d be able to pick up Sinnohan lessons or would go off to uni to do whatever. I’d want to treat him like that family treats him, ordering a cake with a sparkler to the table.

The son glances at me just before he dives into his desserts. Shit, he noticed. I check my phone. No messages. For Arceus’ sake, come on, Barry.

I bet he bailed on me, like humans do when stuff gets too real. What am I thinking, wanting some loser like him? Then what’ll happen about the gig at The Cave? If he has the balls to show up without me, I’ll rip them off. I think I would do it if pushed.

Just when I think about asking for the bill, Barry dashes through the restaurant, collapsing at the table in a panting, sweating heap.

I don’t say hi, even if I’m glad to see him. I just stare as he catches his breath.

“You could’ve sent me a message,” I growl.

“I’m—“ He grips his mullet with his meaty hands. “Shit, I’m so sorry. I’m such an idiot, Glen, I—“

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not, though! I said I’d be on time but the staff training overran and I had to get a taxi back, and I should’ve said!” He wiped his moist forehead. “It’s not fair on you.”

I pinch my snout. He’s doing this again, being so hard on himself. Takes one to know one. That’s what makes him so different, whereas everyone hurt me and didn’t care. To think he was going to stand me up.

I so badly want to squeeze his hand, to feel his warmth, to tell him it’s alright, but we can’t. Not here. I don’t even know if he feels the same way yet.

“Well, you made it.” I gesture to his glass, the ice fully melted. “That’s for you.”

“Okay, thanks.” Barry swigs. I gulp as the liquid pulses down his plump neck. Although he’s sweating in a cheap shirt and his hair’s as greasy as a drowned Tangela, he looks smart. After he’s done, he exhales and slumps in his seat. “What a day.”

I hum in agreement. I’d ask what his training’s about, but every time the conversation shifts to work, I block out half of what he says. Besides, I think he’d rather take his mind off of it. “So, what band are we seeing again?”

“Starving Boltund. Did you see the music video I sent you?”

I sigh. “Crap, I didn’t, sorry. I know they’re, like, industrial dance metal, which is kind of a mouthful.”

“Industrial metal, yeah. But I think you’d enjoy their songs just going into them blind. I’ve been listening to their album non-stop today.”

“Shame I can’t just blast stuff like I used to when I travelled alone. I’d probably have given them a shot otherwise.”

“Can’t you talk to your team? Maybe they’d like it.”

“Maybe.” I cross my arms. I feel bad for not socialising as much as I should, but it’s still new working with a crew of younger Machoke, especially one that changes around so much. “I know Hammer hates metal. I played Weezing Lung Destruction once and he almost punched the speakers out.”

Barry shrugs, stroking the tip of his beard, something I’ve noticed on and off. “Mind you, I wouldn’t like being forced to listen to something. My boss keeps blasting pop songs in the office all day.”

“I’d throw Hammer out the fucking van if he turned that shit on.”

Barry chuckles the way he usually does, hiding it behind his pudgy hand as if he’s embarrassed. I don’t know why; he's got such a lovely smile. Now he’s here, I just feel at ease being around him. He has no trouble looking at me like I’m just some regular human, like he did when we first met outside The Cave.

I can just about feel the electricity between us. I know we can’t touch hands, but my foot inches towards Barry’s beneath the table, hoping that his foot will do the same.

“Oh, you’re here!” the waiter interrupts. “Now, what would you like to order?”

Barry orders pasta carbonara while I order a sirloin steak, plus drinks. Mine is slightly more expensive than Barry’s, but he doesn’t know that I’m going to pay for his meal yet. It was my idea to come here before the show, after all.

“How’s work?” Barry asks.

I sip my Psycho Soda. I never know how to answer that question, especially not in front of Barry since his job sounds much more important than mine, but he wants to know. That’s more than I can say about most humans.

“Same as usual. We met a couple of students who were moving flats. Their old place had black mold everywhere.”

Barry winces. “Do you see a lot of that around?”

“Yeah. Some places we move stuff from are in a right state. People either dump their shit from one flat to another, or landlords just don’t care much.”

“I’ve been through that myself. I don’t miss being a student.”

“I bet.” I don’t know if the timing’s right, but I lean in a little closer, lowering my voice. “There was one place we went to not too long ago that kind of gave me the creeps. There was this… guy who couldn’t walk who lived alone with his male Gardevoir.”

I hope Barry can see where I’m going with this. He leans in as well. “Go on.”

“So, the Gardevoir was telling me how his trainer got tangled up in some sort of accident on his journey, so they wanted to move somewhere with better wheelchair access. The Gardevoir handled most things on his own, like where he wanted the boxes or where he wanted the furniture to be placed.”

“But he wasn’t like you.”

“No. He was a carer for his trainer, so he did a lot of housekeeping on his own, but they were pretty attached to the hip.” My voice lowers even more, just barely audible under the generic rock music playing through the restaurant speakers. “The trainer barely talked to us. He only looked at his Gardevoir. And whenever the Gardevoir wheeled him around, the way they looked at each other…”

A whole mix of emotions whiz through me. I kind of hate myself for gossiping about other Pokemon, and the whole thing still leaves a bad taste in my mouth, like cheap boxed cider, but it has to be said. I want to test how Barry feels about this.

Barry scrunches his bushy eyebrows and swigs his soda. “Hmm. I can’t say I know them, so I don’t want to suggest anything, but I can’t blame you for being creeped out.”

“Just seeing a trainer and a Pokemon like that together, you know. You never know what goes on behind closed doors.”

“What brought this on?”

He still looks at me with that gaze of his, completely non-judgemental, warm, inviting, serious, but also vulnerable, as if he’s ready for the other shoe to drop. Just like me. But I’ve already said too much and this isn’t the time or the place for talks like these.

“I dunno. It might be a bit TMI.”

“That’s fine. I was just more curious than anything.”

“Well, maybe I’ll tell you later. We’re still coming back to yours after the gig, right?”

“That’s the plan. I bought some Pekkochu, by the way.”

He even bought beer for me, how does this dude not want to be my boyfriend? Time melts away like the ice in my glass as we talk, either about work or music; turns out Barry’s oh so important training was this ‘compliance induction day’: just those three words make me want to jam the steak knife into my eye. We don’t really get past those two topics, but that’s fine. It’s nice to have someone to share it with.

And here comes food. This Miltank cut isn’t half bad albeit a little overdone; it has the right amount of meat with not too much fat, then there’s the side salad, rocket drizzled with razz berry balsamic, somewhat healthy. But then Barry has this thick, creamy carbonara, and I kind of wish I had it instead even though it looks like a carb and dairy nightmare.

“Oh,” he says, dabbing his chin, “would you like some?”

“Only if you have some of my steak. It’s good shit.”

The rest of the meal flies past us, even as Barry orders afters. I forget there are other humans in the room. Everything fades around us in a screen of warm light, like I’m seeing it through a misted car window, except Barry’s the only one in focus.

When the waiter comes with the bill, I’m the first to draw out my wallet. It’s thinner than I would like, but that doesn’t matter for a night like this.

“Wait, I thought I was paying,” Barry said.

“It was my idea.”

“No, please.” Barry brings a debit card out. “I got dessert, so it’s not fair for you to pay extra.”

“But I got the fancy steak. That’s even more than your pasta and tiramisu.”

“But…” Barry turns the card over and tugs at his beard. “It doesn’t feel right. It’s just… you’re–”

“I’m a Pokemon, is that it?”

Damn it, and here I thought Barry was different. He still is, but it doesn’t stop him from thinking like a human. I’m about to complain when the waiter leaves the bill on the table.

“Sort it out between you two,” he says in a tone that suggests he’s so totally done with his shift tonight.

I jab my elbows into the clothed table. “I can pay for my own meals, Barry.”

“I wasn’t…” Barry shrinks in his seat, as if the big lug can possibly make himself look smaller. “Sorry. I’ve messed things up again, haven’t I?”

I groan. I swear he’s doing this on purpose. “Stop apologising.”

“Sorry–” he cuts himself off–”I mean, all I meant was… you don’t get paid that well, from what you’ve said. And I thought it’d be nice to treat you, after all this time.”

I rub the red streaks across my arms, staring at my lap. I want to believe those words, but something presses on my brain, like a Hypno’s spell, telling me not to trust it.

“We can split it. That’s what people do, compromise, right?”

“Yeah.” Barry takes a deep breath. “Of course I find a way to overthink paying the bill.”

“Don’t even think about it, I was being a dick anyway.”

“You’re weren’t– you’re not, Glen. You’re great.”

I’m great. I haven’t heard those words… ever. I’m trying not to let it get to me, but…

Barry’s eyes. I want to escape into them, swim in them, pretend I’m anything but a Machoke, yet I can’t, not when I see my ugly, big-nosed face staring back at him.

No, why do I feel like this now? That feeling of nausea gnaws at my belly, yet I know it isn’t from what I ate. Whatever it is, I don’t have a name for it, but it’s got its hooks deep in me, like a slab of frozen meat. Meat. Miltank. Pokemon. Machoke.

“I…” I get up, tossing 3000 Pokedollars for my half of the bill onto the table. “I need to go to the loo.”

“That’s fine, take your time.”

He smiles as I dash to a free cubicle. I look down at the clean, tiled floor. I should be admiring how sparkly it is for a public toilet, but all I can think of is that time me and Scott… no, it’s too painful.

I stare at my arms, those red streaks snaking down them like blood trails. This is what a Machoke looks like. This is normal. Yet… my stomach turns at the thought that I’m trapped in this body. That I look like this, that I’m just this slab of muscled meat that’s only good for fighting, and I can’t even get that right. How can Barry look at this and say I’m great? What’s wrong with him? What’s wrong with me?

I don’t deserve this. I should run back to my shitty flat and ghost Barry. Disappear and never risk feeling this way again. No, this feeling isn’t new. It’s all in my head. Barry wants to see me. I need to remember that.

I wait for this god awful feeling to ebb away, but it doesn’t. I just glance at my phone clock, then turn it over, check my phone, turn it over, repeat, until I know it’s too late for me to be freaking out right now, and charge out of the toilets. I try not to look at myself in the strip of mirrors, like ghosts haunting me from the other side, and head back into the restaurant. Barry stands as soon as he sees me.

“We’re missing the support.” Barry buttons up his jacket. “You good?”

I’m not good, but I force a smile and head for the exit, power walking to the venue. I know the way, it’s only five minutes long, and Barry must be able to catch up with me, but I want to walk hand in hand with him even when I know we can’t, so I light my cigarette, almost swallowing it as I walk-run.

Air’s cold, it’s night, mostly humans out, but a couple of Pokemon keep to themselves. I swear I spot a Zoroark and a Zorua stalking the night together. I bet they can pass as humans. I envy them. Feral Thievul flit past my feet, the poor buggers, and Garbodor pick at rubbish bins in alleyways just off the high street. How do they live like this? How does any Pokemon live like this?

Clumsy dress shoes pitter-patter behind me.

“Glen, wait a sec!” Barry huffs. “I can’t catch–” another huff–”up with you.”

I don’t respond. We need to get to the show, and we do, but not before I throw my smoke away. I show my ticket to the human bouncer who’s built like a brick shithouse, but I can barely look at his questioning eyes burning through me, asking why I’m even there, but no, there are other Pokemon that come to The Cave to either watch and perform, so I’ve got nothing to worry about.

We’re in. It’s thick with mostly human sweat and makes me feel trapped like I’m inside a Pokeball again, especially since there’s zero room to move between everybody on the stage and at the bar. I almost flinch when Barry brushes my shoulder, his hand still cold from the outside.

“Are you sure you’re okay?!” he shouts over the music. “Drink? I’m getting a drink! You want one?!”

It’ll just be Psycho Soda again, even though I can hold my liquor. But fine. I nod, and Barry disappears. I back against the brick wall, panting, not from all the walking but from whatever’s still clawing into my belly. Again, I check my phone for no other reason than to do something with my hands. When that doesn’t work, I try to slip into the stage crowd as they watch the supporting act.

A Toxtricity’s noodling around on a guitar. I guess this is the support; his name’s supposed to be Toxic Love on the billing. I try to get lost in the music, even if it’s just to support my fellow Pokemon, but I don’t think there’s any structure to his music, just jams upon jams. At least the crowd’s kind of into it, though I don’t know how much of it is for novelty’s sake.

Not gonna lie, it kind of blows. It’s doing nothing for my mood either, as my throat still feels tight. I need a hit.

Barry’s taking a while. The bar’s looking pretty full, just from a glance. Now’s the perfect time to go and light up outside, along with a couple of other stragglers. Safety in numbers, I suppose. Some humans stare at me, as if they’ve never seen a smoking Machoke before.

“Hey, queen!” one human shouts, some twenty-something woman who can barely stand upright.

I sigh, thinking they’re talking to me, when one figure steps out and strikes a pose, blowing kisses with two sets of arms, a cigarette in the other set.

“Y’all better come to my show later!” a Machamp says in a feminine voice. “I’ll throw in an autograph!”

“Slay!” the human’s drunken friends shout as they walk past the alleyway.

…what just happened? This Machamp’s wearing a wig, and an honest to Arceus skirt, black and neon green like everyone else’s cyberpunk-y attire. Do they think it’s some dress up party? They turn, hair whipping behind them, and strut back to the wall beside me to smoke, sequined heels clicking against the cobblestones. Even the way they smoke oozes confidence as they people-watch, whereas I try to make myself as small as possible.

I can’t help but gawk at them since they clearly want to be in the limelight.

“You’re wearing high heels,” is the first thing that escapes my maw.

“And?” he bellows, dropping the voice. So it’s an act. Or is it?

“Never mind.” I take another drag, figuring out how this strange feeling into words. I don’t know if I envy him, but… “How do you do it?”

“Practice.” He wiggles his heeled foot. “It’s freaking hard, though, you don’t pick this up in the league, that’s for sure.”

“No, I mean…” I sigh. “I feel like a freakshow at the best of times. But you don’t seem to care.”

My voice is strained. Maybe it’s from the smoke, but it comes right from the gut, which still hurts.

“Honey,” he says, “this is my life. I do what I want and I dress how I want. Some humans like a little show, too.”

He winks; is he wearing mascara as well, or are those fake lashes? I blink, suppressing a cough.

“You should come some time. I’m Quadruple Threat, by the way, Druple, for short. My next show’s in a week.”

He’s just as shameless as he looks. But is that a bad thing?

“I’ll think about it.”

“Good.” Druple crushes the cigarette beneath his stiletto. “Take care of yourself.”

He disappears into The Cave, leaving me to finish my smoke. I don’t know what the hell I just witnessed, but it’s a welcome surprise. That gnawing feeling fades. It’s still there. It’s always kind of there. But I don’t feel it as much.

That Toxtricity’s stopped playing now. Good. I feel like I should talk to Barry; he’s probably stuck holding two glasses as we speak. I take a deep breath and head back into the neon-soaked depths of The Cave.

“Hey, I wondered where you were!” Barry shouts, handing me a cold one. He hasn’t even bought a beer for himself yet. I chug half the contents down, clearly needing it. “Are you okay?”

I am now, sorta. I wasn’t earlier. I want to talk about it, but I don’t want to ruin the good vibes.

“I’ll tell you later!” I shout back.

He nods and raises his arm, as if he’s about to touch my shoulder. He catches himself, and stuffs his hand back in his pocket.

“Let’s get to the stage, yeah? Try and get somewhere in the middle!”

Starving Boltund is probably going to have one hell of a mosh pit. I don’t want to miss it, even if I’m not as familiar with their music.

“Yeah! Let’s!”

We push and shove our way into the crowd. I’m so crammed, my snout’s poking the back of some guy’s armpit. This is what I sign up for every time I go to a gig here. Fun. But then it becomes fun for real when Starving Boltund comes in, wearing actual freaking Boltund masks, as Pokemon cries playing from the amps mix with loud claps. It doesn’t faze me, not after listening to some human’s spoken word poetry that one time.

They don’t even introduce themselves, they just park by their instruments, standard except for a keyboard, laptop and saxophone, and the pulse of amp feedback and distortion thumps to a beat. The Boltund guy with the saxophone starts first, then the band explodes in a sea of noise, taking everyone on stage with them, including me and Barry. I join in the mosh pit, backing into the human, who pushes me back into a long-haired Scrafty, who smiles as she shoves me hard into Barry.

He catches me, only to push me again, and he joins in, both of us bouncing across the pit like pinballs.

This is why I love The Cave. It doesn’t matter whether you’re a human or Pokemon, all that matters is that you’re enjoying the music together. This is the closest I feel to getting that fighting spirit back without actually being in a fight. And Barry…

Barry looks so dishevelled as his hair becomes slick with sweat, dripping down his face. He’s so hot.

Who am I fooling? This human is the person I want to spend all my time with. I’ll tell him that when we get back to his place, but for now, I get lost in the beats and the heat from all the bodies.

---

The night air cools my moist skin as I wait for Barry to unlock his front door. Man, that gig was a blast. Barry’s got good taste. He told me he’s built up a record collection back home, and I can’t wait to see it and to hear him nerd out about it.

“Doesn’t look too shabby,” I say, even though it’s on the second floor of a crude-looking block of flats and there’s an air conditioner leaking along the outside wall. There’s also this Murkrow who’s perched on the railing, staring at us.

“Piss off!” he caw-caws. “Piss off! Piss off!”

The Murkrow turns his head back to the night. I blink, trying to process what the hell I just heard.

“That’s Pissoff.” Barry sighs. “My neighbour called him that, and he comes out here every night parroting it.”

I don’t remember what my name was before Glen, but I like my own name a lot better. It means ‘small valley’, which just fits.

“Seems like that’s setting a Pokemon up for failure, calling them Pissoff.”

“I told him that and he told me to mind my own business.” He groans. “Neighbours.”

“I heard that!” Pissoff caws. “Pissoff’s just some banter!”

Barry rolls his eyes. “Okay, then, piss off, Pissoff.”

“That’s more like it!”

Barry must be a magnet for weird fucking Pokemon, not that I can say much. He opens the door and invites me in. I’ve seen worse places. There are a few clothes strewn about on the floor, mostly pairs of dirty socks, and empty noodle pots placed at odd parts of the living room.

I’ve seen worse. Fucking Axel and his pee-filled beer bottles. At least Barry’s place gives off the vibe of visiting an old friend’s place rather than a stranger’s hovel. Barry leaves his shoes by the door and collapses on the settee.

“I’m beat,” he says, massaging his socked feet.

I stand by the door, shoes still on, almost frozen to the welcome mat. I wait for the right moment to tell Barry I love him, but what if I’m wrong? What if that ruins what we have between us?

No, all he wants me to do is sit. It doesn’t have to lead to anything if the cards aren’t right. I squeeze in beside him, feeling a surge of electricity as his shoulder brushes mine. It’s gone just as quickly as Barry sits up, walking in and out of the kitchen with cans of Pekkochu.

“This is the premium shit too. Super dry.” I crack it open and take a big swig. Man, that wheat-y, hoppy taste is something else. I clink Barry’s can, say cheers, and down another swig.

We stare at the TV. Do people still say ‘let’s Natuflix and chill’? But Barry doesn’t reach for the remote, doesn’t help that it’s wedged between the settee cushions.

“Do you wanna put something on?” I ask. “I’m not too tired.”

“Maybe.” He swirls his drink. “I’m fine with just chilling. Or chatting about whatever.”

For Arceus’ sake, why can’t he spit it out? Not that I’m plucking up the courage myself since my mouth is frozen shut. I feel like I’m being watched, even though we’re in the privacy of Barry’s home. Then again, I always feel watched. That sinking feeling in my stomach isn’t going away either. That’s not going to stop even if I get this off my chest.

The conversation at the restaurant flashes through my head.

“Say,” I say, “you asked me why I brought up the Gardevoir story.”

Barry strokes his beard, then takes a sip. “Mmm?”

I search for the right words at the bottom of the Pekkochu can. “What if it was, y’know, just a human who happened to meet a Pokemon? Say the Pokemon can talk and think for themselves, and just happened to meet a super nice human they liked?”

Barry sets his can down on a side table, and looks me up and down, again, with zero judgement. His chubby cheeks raise, and his eyes look soft, especially under the dim ceiling lamp.

“Then… that human would be super happy to have them.”

That’s it. Barry doesn’t have to tell me he loves me, I just know.

I’ve been waiting for this moment all my life. Someone loves me for who I am, even though I’m a Machoke.

Machoke. Pokemon. Human. Whatever’s in my stomach bubbles as Barry leans forward, Teddiursa eyes gazing dreamily into me. I so badly want to kiss him.

No, I shouldn’t want to. It’ll only end in disaster, like all the other times I’ve tangled with humans. I sit like a felled tree, waiting for Barry to make his first move, but he stops short.

“What’s on your mind?” Barry backs away. “You’ve been spacing out ever since we had dinner.”

Of course he noticed, because he’s Barry, because he doesn’t have to be told.

I shudder and lean against the headrest, nearly sinking into the cushions.

“We can’t hold hands in public, or whatever it is couples do.”

“I know.” His hand hovers over my shoulder, which he retracts and tucks in his lap. “It’s fine. I’m used to hiding.”

I want to pry into it, but now’s not the right time. I don’t fancy spilling my guts either.

“I want to feel okay about this, but I’m not sure I do.” I sigh. “Are we both just really fucked up for feeling this way?”

“Maybe.” His chest ripples against his shirt with each inhale and exhale. “I got bullied really badly in school. All because I had some art saved on my phone. And I dressed up as a Lucario on non-uniform day. I don’t know what that says about me.”

I don’t know what I should say to that, but I’m no stranger to embarrassing shit. “I cut out men’s fitness magazines before I found out about the internet.”

“Old school.”

“I know, right?” I close my eyes, searching deep within myself. Now we’ve gotten our deepest, darkest secrets out of the way, there’s nothing stopping me from telling him how I feel. “I was freaking out earlier, you know.”

A soft, warm hand squeezes mine, gently nudging me to go on. My tongue twists trying to find the right words. I don’t know if Barry feels the same way, but I’ve seen his anxiety attacks before. I’m sure he’ll get it.

“I get sick looking at myself sometimes. I expect to see a human face looking back at me, but instead, I get this.” I trace my free hand along my snout. “I want to cut this fucking nose off.”

“I’m sorry,” Barry says.

“It’s not your fault.”

“Sorry–” he chuckles–”no, I mean, I’m sorry to hear. If it helps, I’ve never really felt like a human.”

“You don’t?”

“Not when you’re told you need to lose weight all your life and you second guess every conversation you have.”

“I like you the way you are.” I squeeze his pudgy hand back. “And you’re fine.”

Barry leans into me, so close that his breath licks the back of my head. “I like you the way you are too, Glen, nose and all. I hope you know that.”

The living room’s silent. There’s no ticking clock. Barely any noise from the neighbours. Just the sound of us two breathing, except one of us is breathing faster, me. Just when that pang of nausea hits me, it’s gone as Barry slowly wraps his arms around me, pulling me into his chest.

He’s oh so gentle even when he’s smothering me with his pecs, as he squeezes just tight enough that my snout has room to breathe. The light sheen of sweat from his dancing and the smell of his mint shampoo roll into one. He smells like home.

What’s home? It’s not my place. Nor is it the Mach n’Van. Nor being on the road. Nor anywhere else. The years have been so long. I’ve spent them with no one. That’s better than being hurt. But this touch…

That’s too much for me. Everything I’d been sucking in since that episode at the restaurant, and all those years of baggage, just spews out. I let out stuttered, shuddering cries against Barry.

“I… Barry…”

Fuck, I can’t even talk. Barry doesn’t try to talk either, he just rocks me back and forth. I’ve missed that so much, that touch, skin on skin, warmth on warmth. I’m so afraid he’ll shove me aside, or say it’s a prank, but it’s not, this is real. He’s real. And he’s here for me, even though I’m this… thing. Pokemon. Machoke. None of that matters. Not here. Not now.

“What…” I wipe the tears off my face, gathering myself. “What do you wanna do?”

“We don’t have to do anything. It’s completely up to you.”

Up to me… Before, it’s been on everyone else’s terms. Now it’s on my own terms.

Something flicks within me. I’m hit with a sudden clarity that we’re together, human and Pokemon. I thought I’d feel ashamed, but this feels right. So right. I don’t know what the future holds for us both. We’ll probably have good or bad days together. But this has been one of the best nights of my life so far. If we keep it up as is, it will be the best night of my life.

“Let’s go to your room.”

---

I stir to the sight of Barry sifting through his wardrobe. It’s morning, curtains drawn, overcast autumn light filtering through the curtains, and he’s got work. I’ve got work too. I thought he set an alarm for both of us.

“Shit,” I growl, rubbing the crust from my eyes. “Must’ve overslept.”

“I wasn’t sure if I should’ve woken you up.” Barry moans. “Sorry.”

“It’s cool.” I blearily get out of bed. “I need a shower.”

“Time to speedrun getting ready for work.”

I glare at Barry. “What’s that mean?”

“Never mind. Get ready, I’ll give you one of my shirts.”

I smile and hop in the shower, scrubbing myself off in double time. At least I don’t have hair to shampoo. I scramble to get my clothes on and dress myself in Barry’s shirt, a plain black tee that’s professional enough for work, but fits really loosely on me. Oh well, I don’t have the luxury of choice here.

We’ve both got five minutes before we need to head off, as Barry needs to walk to his office and I need to drive to the Mach n’ Van base on Circhester’s outskirts. No time for breakfast. But Barry sits on the bed, tugging at his beard.

“What’s up?” I ask.

He sighs. “I wish I didn’t have to go.”

“Me neither.” I sit by his side and embrace him. “Last night was awesome.”

“Yeah.” He hums. “That’s another reason I wish I was a Pokemon sometimes. Maybe I’d avoid having to work.”

I pull away from him slightly, though my hand’s still on his back. “But you wouldn’t have as much choice. Don’t take that for granted.”

“I’m trying. I shouldn’t have said that, sorry.”

“What’ve I said about apologising?” I rest my head against his. “Don’t worry, lots of humans say that anyway.”

“I guess.”

We don’t have long, so I just enjoy his touch as much as I can. “When can I see you again?”

“You can stay around mine tonight, if you want. I’d like to try making a pasta dish.”

“And how come you never told me you can cook?”

“I can’t, all I do is look up recipes.”

“You can still cook.” I squeeze his hand. “I’d love to come.”

“Good. And we’ve got some Pekkochu left.”

I nuzzle his head. His cheek’s so warm. I want to feel it as much as I can. I check my phone. Shit, I should be leaving now.

“I’ve gotta run now.” I take a deep breath and peck his hot cheek as if it’s the last time. “Love you.”

I said it. I never thought I’d never be able to say that to anyone. Barry kisses me back. “I love you too.”

I try not to skip like a schoolgirl as I head out the front door, which clicks behind me with finality. It’s overcast, but that doesn’t ruin my mood as I head out the block of flats, seeing all the muted greys and greens of Barry’s neighbourhood with warmer hues.

---

I’m late by two minutes, and Hammer’s quick to let me know that as he clips me upside the head as soon as I step out of my car.

“Ow,” I say. Just one flick from a Machamp packs a mean punch.

“You’re never late,” he says. “Our client gave us a strongly worded call.”

I grunt, stomping to the van. “Shut up and get in so we’re not even more late.”

Nobody argues with that. I curse under my breath as I try to navigate the outskirts’ country roads, which leads us to a farmhouse not unlike the Mach n’ Van’s base. All the Machoke jump out as soon as I stop at the muddy parking space, and I’m about to do the same when Hammer grasps my shoulder.

“What?” I ask, squirming under his grip.

“How’d your date go?”

My date? Oh, with Barry. I almost smile, then slap my mouth. He can’t know about Barry. I know he’d fire my ass if I ended up with a human. I can’t afford to quit another job and move somewhere else to not leave a paper trail.

“It didn’t go well.”

Hammer’s face falls. “Well, that sucks. Hopefully you get ‘em next time.”

I fake a smile. “Sure.”

He pats my shoulder before he heads out to join the rest of the moving crew. I stay in the van, reaching for my screaming pocket.

My stomach bubbles, as it always has done when I’m reminded of just how not normal I am, that in the end, I’m still a Pokemon trying to find his way in a society built for humans. I feel like a massive dick for lying to Hammer. But this is the price I pay for being with someone who sees me for what I am.

I step out of the van and light my Sandy Numel, watching the much stronger Machoke move furniture out of the house. They’ll never know what it’s like to feel like I do. Maybe that’s for the best.