Catnip Speed Dating

[Negrek]

Catnip Speed Dating​

Want to get all the fun of Catnip Circle in one concentrated burst? Enjoy checking out stories but not sure when you'd have time to read and review any? Or looking for a way to get your work in front of multiple different people with one event? Catnip Speed Dating is for you!

How it Works

Come join us on the Discord server's Speed Catnip thread in the #reading-chat channel on Sunday May 1st, 3 PM EST when the event kicks off. I'll roll random pairings between everyone who signs up, and then you'll have ten minutes to read your partner's excerpt and make a brief comment (three sentences tops!) on it. They'll read yours and do the same when they finish. If you've got extra time, you can chat a little bit or simply wait for the next assignment to be rolled. Once ten minutes is up, I'll randomize another set of pairings and start things over again! We'll do five rounds of this--sampling five fics in about an hour real-time. Not bad, huh?

How to Sign Up

First, choose a section of your story that's about 1000 words long. Since the catnip speed dating rolls will be made without regard for content warnings, please make sure your selection is PG in terms of subject matter and does not include any major content warnings--no violence or blood beyond what you'd see in a Pokémon battle in the anime, no major character death or suicide/suicidal ideation, sexual assault, or substance abuse. Put it up on Google Docs or simply as a post in this thread, then send me a link to it and say you'd like to sign up. That's it! After that, all you need to do is show up for the event.

If you have multiple fics and want to showcase more than one, you can prepare multiple excerpts and offer them as choices to whoever rolls you to read. And since these rolls will not account for who's familiar with your story already, if there are people in the participant pool who are already caught up on your fic, it might be a good idea to have something available for anyone who's caught up on your fic to enjoy. But this is all optional--to participate, all you need is one ~1k word snippet that meets the guidelines.

Current Sign-Ups

Negrek
canisaries
NebulaDreams
IFBench
Torchic
SparklingEspeon
The Walrein
Shiny hantump
Chibi Pika
unrepentantAuthor
Dragonfree

 

[canisaries]

Signing up with an excerpt of Judgment and excerpt from the first chapter of Batty for those that prefer not to read about capital punishment or just generally want something lighter.

Judgment - Excerpt

Source:
Here

Context:
This story takes place in trainerverse, though a version of it where Pokémon can become human-intelligent and earn citizenship.

Wordcount:
989

Text:

Spoiler: Excerpt

He took the turn to the parking lot and sought out a free space close to the entrance. Having parked, he grabbed the two books he'd brought with him off the front seat, exited the car and hurried towards the entrance. Two guards stood by the door: a burly man in a dark gray uniform and a mightyena with a matching vest. Both had their eyes pinned on Samson, who quickly realized that the human guard had his hand on his holster. He stopped in his tracks.

"Easy," the guard said, voice loud and clear. "What's your business here?"

"Sorry, I'm --" Samson tried, but realized he was far too out of breath to speak. He forced himself to take deeper breaths until he felt he was able to continue.

He looked into the guard's eyes. "I'm Mark Samson, an Arcean priest. I-I was requested to perform a blessing for an inmate that-that's set to be executed today." He swallowed. "Please, tell me, is there still time?"

Part of the sternness on the guard's face was replaced by bewilderment. "...I gotta ask someone," he eventually replied. "Hold on."

Eyes still on Samson, the guard opened the door for the mightyena, who slipped inside. The two men waited some seconds in silence until another human, a stocky woman, emerged from the door.

"Mark Samson, the Arcean priest?" she asked.

Samson nodded.

"Come on over," she said. "Slowly."

Samson did as ordered. Once he reached the entrance, he was prompted to hand over his books while he was checked. "Be gentle with them," he said to the guard while another guard came out. This new guard, who was thinner and had a shaved head, patted Samson down, but nothing strange was found - aside from the books, he only had his wallet and keys with him. The mightyena gave all these items a sniff and confirmed they were clean.

Samson's heart still pounded. While being recognized and checked suggested that he'd made it in time, he couldn't be sure. His anxiety was in no way lessened by the guard disregarding his plea to be gentle with the books as he checked them. Or maybe his definition of gentle was simply different.

"All clear," the guard finally said, handing Samson back his books. "You can go inside."

Samson nodded. The other guard reopened the door, and Samson followed the woman inside.

The reception room was… well, it was clear this place did not get many visitors. The walls were more concrete painted white, and the floor was a dark gray. There had been some attempts to add more color to the room, such as a multicolored carpet on the floor, a painting of a mountainscape on the wall and a potted fern in the corner, but all looked either cheap, old or both. There were only two chairs, which looked neither sturdy nor comfortable. The desk, at least, looked well managed, but that was the one thing in the room that was actually used.

The woman turned to Samson. "Alright, you came just in the nick of time. The execution is scheduled for noon."

A boulder rolled off Samson's heart. Finally, confirmation. He glanced at the clock on the wall - twenty-five minutes left.

"You think you'll have enough time?" she asked.

Samson nodded. "I would've preferred more, but I'll manage."

"Alright. If you don't need anything else, Noguchi and Gin will take you to the chandelure's cell," she said, looking to the guard with the shaved head and the mightyena as she spoke their names. Both walked up to the door waiting ahead.

“I’m good, thanks,” Samson replied, heading for the door himself.

The woman nodded and gave a polite smile. “Good luck.”

For a fraction of a second, Samson felt more at ease - he now knew someone in the staff was friendly.

Then he remembered where he was and his heart froze solid.

No friendliness from these people could mean anything while living beings were still murdered within these walls.

He remained quiet as the guard and mightyena escorted him through the door and further into the building. Two rooms later, they entered a long, wide hallway with eight doors, each spaced a few meters apart, on both sides. The doors, made of metal, had windows through which the rooms could be clearly seen. Above the doors were identifiers of the rooms - A103, A104, A105… the odd-numbered rooms were on the right while the even-numbered ones were on the left.

The rooms themselves were not the cells, but contained them. A glass wall sectioned off most of the room for the use of the inmate, leaving the remaining space for whoever was checking in. Besides the inmate, the cell area always contained a bed, a mirror and a couple of potted plants, partly wilted - ethical food for ghosts.

The prisoners themselves, though, were a lot more diverse than the decor. Samson saw a haunter, a mismagius, a gengar, more haunters, a dusclops, a drifblim and a… hovering teacup? Oh, the dark liquid within moved. A sinistea.

A sinistea… a tiny, little sinistea. How old were they? Were they even mature? There was no juvy for ghosts, Samson knew that much, so it really could have been a mere child for all he knew. Deplorable. They'd lock up a child in this prison, confine it to a glass cell all alone. There had to be some opportunities for refreshment and socialization here - Samson couldn't believe it would be allowed not to have any - but was this any environment for a child? No. Oh, that poor sinistea. Samson could only hope their sentence was at least short. Still, there was no doubt in his mind that this experience would scar a child for life. He would pray for them later that day. He would pray for every prisoner in this building. All imprisoned ghosts across the world.

Batty - Part One - Excerpt

Source:
Here

Context:
This story takes place in a PMD-type Pokémon-only world. Nella is a noivern that works as a waitress.

Wordcount:
916

Text:

Spoiler: Excerpt

Scrape, scrape, scrape. The broom's bristly hairs brushing against the floorboards was the only thing keeping the restaurant from dead silence.

The others had left long ago - even Amal, who was tasked with depositing the day's profits in Martha's stead, and she usually stayed the longest. But she was not the one who dreaded going back to her empty quarters. With all those books of silly stories of love and passion that would never come true.

Nella sighed, probably for the seventeenth time by now, and the cycle of thoughts began anew.

She should have said she was free. She should have realized sooner how valuable the opportunity was. She shouldn't have let him go. Even if it made her look desperate. She was desperate! She would've settled for much less, and yet she had the chance to catch the perfect man - or the best man she could ever get.

Could she, even? Maybe it was all a trick to begin with? Maybe that gardevoir was in on it? But what was there to gain from courting some dowdy little waitress? She wasn't rich - she barely got by. She wasn't important - her family was unremarkable. And she already knew she wasn’t pretty.

That incineroar must have had something wrong with him. He did belong to some weird religion. Maybe he was searching for a woman to sacrifice to his god in some dark, twisted ritual…

...no, she'd been reading too many books.

A clanking came from the door. Someone was trying to open the lock.

Nella's fur stood on end, bristlier than ever, and she grasped the broom tighter. "Wh-who's there?"

The door opened, and a familiar nidoqueen stepped through.

"Calm down, it's just me," said Martha, closing the door.

Nella sighed in relief. "What brings you here?” she then asked. “I thought you were going to be elsewhere until Thursday.”

“I thought so, too,” said Martha, marching right past Nella into the kitchen, “until I heard Greedent Gustav was coming.”

Nella followed her. “Um… who is that?”

“The mon who will make or break my career,” Martha said, opening cupboard after cupboard, checking all pouches and containers inside. “If he decides to drop by during his stay in Lepach, that is.”

“So… he’s a food critic?”

“He’s the food critic. In this backwater corner of the kingdom, anyway...” She dashed past Nella to another set of cupboards, blind to the noivern-tail that was in her way and would have tripped her had Nella not withdrawn it at the last moment. “I need to make sure we’re not running low on anything that can’t be bought at the market tomorrow morning.”

“Oh, I see."

Gradually, Martha's motions became more patient. "Okay, so far so good," she mumbled. "Everything seems to be in order…"

But on the next cupboard, she froze.

She turned to Nella with one pouch in her hand. "Is this all the bitterleaf we have?"

"Umm… I-I don't know, I don't work in the kitchen?"

Martha ignored her and checked the remaining cupboards. She then reached into one drawer, took out a slip of blank paper and began writing.

Nella began wondering if it'd be better for her to leave, but right then --

"Noivern!" the nidoqueen barked.

Nella yipped. "Y-yes?"

Martha folded the slip. "You've been to Zem's before, right?"

"Zem's?"

"Drowzee Zem's!" Martha snapped, and Nella cowered.

There's no need to yell… "I remember a drowzee… do you mean the potionmaker?"

"Of course I mean the potionmaker," Martha grumbled. "But you remember the way to his house?"

"Yes, I do." She thought so, at least.

Martha handed her the slip and the empty pouch of bitterleaf. "Go to him and ask for bitterleaf. The slip will tell him that I'll pay later, and handsomely."

Nella paused. "What, now?"

"Yes!"

Absolutely not, Nella thought at first. Don't argue with your employer, she thought right after. She wrestled that thought for control over her tongue, but eventually, she won. She opened her mouth --

"You'll get tomorrow off, obviously," said Martha. "I need to meet Mr. Greedent in person, anyway, and the best way to do that is to do some waitressing myself. I'll handle your shift."

Oh. That made it a lot more reasonable. And she supposed she still didn't want to go home, anyway…

The nidoqueen slammed her tail against the floor, impatient. "Well? Are you going or what?"

"I-I'm going," Nella stuttered. Oh boy, I suppose I'm going.

"Good."

Nella took the slip and the pouch and stored them in her bag. Martha quickly brought her a lantern and… another pouch? This one was much smaller and red in coloration.

"Spores of morelull," said Martha as she handed it over. "Throw 'em towards anyone or anything giving you trouble. A handful ought to put even a raging tauros to bed. Don't breathe 'em in yourself. That should go without saying," she muttered.

“Um… thanks?”

“Don’t mention it. Now go, go, go! The sooner you come back, the sooner we can both get some sleep.” The nidoqueen rushed Nella back to the dining space and to the front door.

“But wh-what if the drowzee isn’t home?” asked Nella while the nidoqueen lit her lantern. “Or he doesn’t have bitterleaf? Or he has some, but doesn’t want to share?”

“Well, then I guess we’re all screwed.”

Lantern lit, Martha opened the door and gave Nella one last shove. “Good luck,” she said, and with that, she slammed the door.

 

[NebulaDreams]

Signing up with the opening of the first chapter of Teamwork Makes the Dream Work.

Teamwork Makes the Dream Work - Part One - Excerpt

Source: Here

Context: This story takes place in a world similar to what's seen in the mainline games, but is solely populated by OCs and focuses on Pokemon POVs. Teamwork is also the third part of the Dreamdiver series, a collection of short stories focusing on Jung the Hypno therapist and the clients he takes on.

Word count: 1,123

Text:

Spoiler: Excerpt

Flashing lights bombarded Beat. The stale air stank of sweat, spilt soda pop, nacho cheese and ale. The audience cheered and roared in equal measure. Beat’s claws dug into the padded floor of the ring. His trainer chanted his name from behind. The ring was Beat’s home away from home, his proving ground, his perfect square where he had everything he needed. All it needed was a face to rearrange.

But no opponent awaited him on the other side of the ring.

Beat looked to the audience, to the spectators in their glass box, then back to his trainer. He shouted a war cry, which boomed throughout the stadium. And yet, his opponent still wasn’t there.

Everything cut to black. Beat usually could see in the darkness, but it was blacker than black. Like, coffee black or space black. A spotlight pierced through the shadows to focus on a large bamboo stick in the middle of the ring, which materialised out of nowhere.

It wasn’t like a walking bamboo stalk or a Sudowoodo, it was a bona fide tubular breakfast, sourced straight from Kalos’ deepest thickets. Like a Pyroar pouncing on its prey, Beat sank his teeth into the bamboo, extracting its stalky goodness. The crowd gasped and booed, throwing tomatoes at him, but he ignored that — if anything, it complimented the sumptuous meal. He couldn’t stop eating, and even after he got to the end of the stalk, it regenerated, repeating the cycle.

Beat wanted to savour as much as possible. He wanted to forget all those years training and toning his body to give into his most primordial urges.

“Hey, fatso.”

A giant Pangoro crashed through the stadium, head scraping the roof of the building. All the spectators ran in a panic, only to get smooshed under the giant’s paws, turning them into lots of different foodies: hamburgers, fried Torchic, Miltank dumplings, peanut butter tubs, everything Beat could think of. He wanted to abandon his stalk and gobble them all up, but the giant blocked his way. The giant entered the ring, squeezing themselves into Beat’s perfect square.

“You gonna keep eating that, or are you gonna come train with me?”

Beat’s tummy hurt, like the cramps he got from eating too much or not eating enough. He wanted to stand his ground. He already did all the training he needed, sacrificing many moons to be a brawler. Instead of fighting like a manly Pangoro, he shivered like a Glaceon after eating a mountain of shaved ice.

“What’re you doin’ there, shakin’ like a Spinda?” Another Pangoro giant said, taking a chunk out of the stadium’s roof as he bit into it. “Pangoro, more like pussy.”

Beat raised his claws in defense, which had turned into bamboo stalks. He too was a bamboo stalk, and he lost his balance, rolling in the ring. The giants leaned over him, one raising their paw to stomp him into bits. He shut his eyes, preparing for the worst.

Beat stood in a bamboo thicket. He was a stalk in a sea of stalks just like him. Beat saw his face in all of them. He still couldn’t move, but weirdly enough, he felt at peace here. No limbs. No worries. No battles to fight. Just him and the wilderness and the birds and the wind. And those giants weren’t here either.

Oh, crap, those giants totally were here. They razed the thicket, grinding the stalks underneath their heels to drive it further into the ground. They delighted in this, deliberately taking the extra time to smoosh them into dust.

One laughed. “How many d’you reckon I can crush in a minute?”

“More than you, chump,” the other said, snapping one in between his claws.

“You wanna bet? All my trainer’s money goes on it.”

“Mine too, ya chode!”

“Screw you, small-tail!”

“Your mom!”

This went on for hours. By the time the sun set, casting red light along the ruined plains, the Pangoro eventually found Beat, stroking the tip of his stalk.

“Your stalk’s so small. Like a freakin’ mushroom.”

“Still bigger than yours,” the other said, which earned him a knuckle sandwich. Mmm, sandwiches. Beat could go for one right now. Particularly his trainer’s. He made the best, with beef, onions, tomatoes…

One appeared out of thin air and plopped on the ground, becoming food for the Durant. Aww, what a waste. It was way past the three second rule this time. Where was his trainer anyway—

Yank.

A searing pain flashed through him like burning white light. His stems got ripped out. The Pangoro snapped him in half like Miltank jerky. Beat had no mouth to scream with. The Pangoro’s jaws snapped into his half where his face was, biting and gnashing and tearing and crunching and munching and grinding and masticating and chomping and chewing and—

—

Beat awoke in tears, though he didn’t know why. How pathetic. And in front of that freaking Hypno as well. All this strength, and that yellow bastard had put him to sleep.

“Don’t… don’t look at me...” Beat snivelled. The Hypno, Jung, turned away, though that didn’t stop Beat’s snivelling. He backed against the wall, burying his face in his lap. Useless. Weak. Pathetic. Pathetic. Pathetic. He kept repeating that to himself. Pathetic.

He wanted to get out. Get out of this stupid garden and go back to his trainer. But he couldn’t go back. Not after that failure. Failure. He couldn’t face him anymore. How could he? His trainer wanted to leave him behind here. That’s where all the weak Pokemon went. So he was weak too. Why was he here? Why did he need help?

Why didn’t he need help?

That kept him from totalling this place and escaping to the wild. He probably would’ve preferred it there, living off of the land, chasing after prey, eating bamboo to his heart’s content. But he probably would’ve wallowed in a thicket anyway, eating his feelings until he died.

His stomach growled. He only remembered bits of that dream, and the details grew fuzzier with each passing minute, but he knew he dreamt about food. And lots of it. He even remembered how juicy those burgers were. What was he thinking, starving himself here? He needed to fill that void in his gut, and he couldn’t keep doing that if he just wasted away like that.

Beat settled down a little, his eyes still moistened. He faced Jung at last, who observed from a careful distance, but with a look of concern as he extended his hand. That Hypno stayed silent, however. At least he knew when to shut his trap.

“Doc?” Beat started, rubbing his tears away. “Can you get me something to eat?”

 

[IFBench]

Signing up with part of chapter 12 of Eternal Shadows!

Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: Eternal Shadows - Chapter 12 - Excerpt

Source: Here

Context: This is a story that takes place in the canon PMD world. Gen is a human-turned Oshawott who retains all his memories. Burhalla and Saltriv are a Charmander and Chikorita respectively, and don't know that Gen is human. The three of them are currently having a sleepover.

Word Count: 1,135

Text:

Spoiler: Excerpt

Had it really only been two days since I ended up like this? I could've sworn it'd been longer…

"It's just hard for me to wrap my mind around sometimes," I said. "There's so much that happened over the past couple days."

"Yep! Going through Twig Woodland, forming Team Searchlights, finding and purifying Flapple," Saltriv said with a bright smile. "We've already done so much together!"

Burhalla also seemed to be in high spirits, and I could see him smiling at me too. You'd never know from that expression that I almost killed him the other day, or that we went into that creepy shrine with all the… statues. Place makes me shudder still just thinking about it.

"I'm really glad you joined our team, Gen," he insisted. "It wouldn't be the same without you."

"…thank you, Burhalla," I said, smiling back. "I…I'm so glad you let me join the team. I don't know what I would have done if I couldn't."

Being all alone for hours on end, with nobody I truly knew to turn to…I really don't know what I'd have done without these two. And I didn't want to imagine what having to go through that would've been like.

"It's a pleasure, really," Burhalla said. "After all, it's not every day that you get to put a search party together with friends!"

I felt my eyes widen. He thought of me as a friend already? Even after what happened in Blistering Shore? I considered him one, but…

I…

"Gen?"

I looked up to see Burhalla staring at me. He was quiet and looked somewhat concerned at me. Had my reaction really been that visible?

"Is something wrong about that?" Burhalla asked. "You…are ok with us being friends, right?"

… My eyes felt damp. I could feel a few tears streaming down from my face. But, for the first time in these two long days, they weren't tears of sadness, or pain, or fear... but ones of happiness.

"…yeah. Yeah, I really am," I said.

"I'm glad to hear that! " Saltriv said with a wave of their leaf. "Since I see you as my friend, too!"

I hesitated, then stood up, and walked over to Saltriv and hugging them, before doing the same to Burhalla.

"Thank you…thank you…" I said, my tears splashing onto the floor. I felt a pair of scaly arms wrap around me, followed by a pair of vines wiping away my tears.

For the first time since I arrived here, I didn't feel alone at all.

After a few seconds, I felt my friends relinquish their grasp on me. I looked up to see Burhalla and Saltriv smiling brightly at me.

"Feeling alright, Gen? If so, how about we go back inside and get back to having fun?" Burhalla said, his tail flame burning brightly.

"Yeah. I'd love that," I said, wiping away the remaining tears on my face.

We all walked back into the blanket fort, and I sat back down on my pillow. Right, we'd been playing charades… where did we leave off at?

"Whose turn is it now?"

"I'll go!" Saltriv said, before swaying their leaf to the side of their head. "Just you two wait, I'll be sure to beat you two with my next charade!"

Saltriv's Home, 1 hour later​

I flopped back onto my pillow with a quiet sigh. Burhalla had correctly guessed that I was pretending to be an Axew. Not sure if I felt more disappointed that my charade got figured out so fast, or relieved that I was still pulling it off well in this Oshawott body. Out of the corner of my vision, I saw Saltriv beginning to yawn.

"Tired already?" Burhalla asked, laying a hand on the Chikorita. I felt myself start yawning.

"Yep…" Saltriv said, eyes half-lidded. "Still tired from yesterday."

"Yeah…" I said. "There was…so much that happened. And training…was exhausting, too."

Burhalla was yawning now himself. Guess yawns really were contagious, either that or it was much later than I thought it was. I watched as Burhalla laid down on his bedding, carefully slipping his tail flame away from it as he shifted and tried to get comfortable.

"Come to think of it, I'm starting to feel a bit tired, too," Burhalla said. "Was there anything else we still wanted to do right now?"

"Maybe…we should sleep, and do more in the morning," I suggested, starting to have trouble keeping my eyes open."

"Sounds good…" Saltriv said, curling up in their bed. "Goodnight, Burhalla. Goodnight, Gen."

"Night," Burhalla said, closing his eyes.

"Goodnight," I said.

I laid down and rested my head against my pillow, and pulled my blanket over me. I must be getting used to this bed quicker than I thought, since it felt strangely comfortable. Not as comfortable as my human bed, but it was comfortable nonetheless. Before I could close my eyes, though, I heard Burhalla speak up.

"Hey, Gen? Why don't you sleep against your scalchop?" I heard him ask. I looked over towards him, to see him with his eyes just barely open. "Don't Oshawotts normally do that?"

Crap. I didn't know that about Oshawotts. What do I say?

"Um…I…didn't remember that that's a thing Oshawotts do," I said. It wasn't entirely a lie. "Am I supposed to be doing that? It's not unhealthy for me to sleep differently, is it?"

"Dunno. Just found it a bit odd," Burhalla said, closing his eyes again. "Though come to think of it, I don't think I've seen you use your scalchop at all. You should probably start relearning how to use it again. It'd be really handy in dungeons."

"Uh, ok," I said, gripping onto my blanket. "I'll, um, start on that tomorrow."

"Night, Gen," he said, his tail flame beginning to dim.

I lifted my blanket up, to look at the shell on my belly. It was such a weird thing, it felt like both a clothing accessory and a part of my body at the same time. It wasn't as weird as the fur, or the ears, or the tail, or my arms and legs, but still.

I couldn't wait to be human again and be rid of it all.

Until then, though, maybe it was a good idea to try to start learning how to use my scalchop. I didn't know how long it'd be until I could find a way back home, and it could be useful until then.

I definitely don't want to start sleeping against it, though. That didn't sound comfortable at all.

None of this was comfortable.

I had lost so much. My home, my family, my ability to do many things, even my body. All I really had left right now was my memories.

…I didn't want to imagine losing those, too.

 

[SparklingEspeon]

Do Psychic Cats Dream of Electric Sheep?

Source: Here

Context: this story takes place in the canon world of PMD, a pokemon-only world where labyrinths called "mystery dungeons" exist, and explorer guilds are made to deal with them. Espurr is a human-turned-pokemon as a kid in rural Serenity Village, Tricky is a fennekin child with the reputation of village troublemaker.

Word Count: 938

Text:

Spoiler: Excerpt

Espurr walked through the woods, trying to trample as little foliage as possible on her way. It was a ways out from the village to the southwest, and the ground was muddy here, sucking in her feet. She checked the sun. Afternoon. Overcast.

The breeze blew in her direction, and Espurr caught a whiff of that familiar rotting stench—the scent of a mystery dungeon. The wind was blowing from her right, so she looked that way. Just through the trees, she could see an unusually shrouded grove of forest, all viny and tangled. That must have been it. Espurr trudged through a small stream as she headed there. The water splashed against her feet and the bottom of her bag.

It was definitely a mystery dungeon. And a powerful one too. Espurr could feel its presence practically vibrating in the air around her. Even from outside, the dungeon felt malevolent. Doubts crept into her head—maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe it was better to go back. She could tackle this another time, w-when Tricky was there with her.

Then, with a pang of shame, Espurr shook the thought off. She hadn’t even entered the dungeon yet, and here she was getting scared. Some hero she made. Besides, it wasn’t like she was helpless anymore. No, she’d prove she wasn’t helpless. Once and for all. With that thought driving her onwards, Espurr took a deep breath, stepped forwards, and felt the hot, humid breeze vanish into the damp, stale air of Mystery Dungeon.

The place was deserted and grimy, even for a dungeon. Tall, dead trees leaned in towards her, gnarled branches grasping down as if to snatch up unwitting travelers from below. Vines hung from everywhere, black as the tree bark and rotting in places. Almost no light escaped the canopy above, casting the swamp below into a black, murky darkness. Espurr trudged determinedly through the marsh that barely even qualified as mud, looking for that scarf. Despite herself, she was starting to really hope she found it soon. This place sent chills through her.

Every once in a while, Espurr got the feeling she was being watched. There were things that swam silently in the murky water, taking care to stay far out of view. Even though she never caught full sight of any creature other than herself, Espurr kept a wary eye on her surroundings anyway, hugging her bag close like it would protect her. The swamp was vast, and she knew she wasn’t alone.

The first floor of the dungeon was cleared without any major incident.

On the second floor, the dungeon suddenly went cold. It wasn’t natural cold—it was the kind that sent chills down one’s back and made them feel like they were being stalked. This was an evil place. More evil than all the mystery dungeons she had encountered so far. And she still hadn’t found that scarf. Maybe it had been lost to the marshes long ago. Thoughts of completing the mission and proving herself a hero were first slowly undone by thoughts of just getting out of here alive.

Maybe something had happened to this place, Espurr thought as she walked through the third floor. The absence of dungeon ‘mon was beginning to unnerve her just as much as the surroundings did. Dungeons were almost never deserted like this. Not unless there was something worse around. And there was something worse around—Espurr could feel its presence in the air, making it heavy, getting closer with every floor she passed. And eventually, she’d have to face it. There was no going back: all she could do was be ready.

However far away she felt from being ready.

The dungeon only got more overgrown as she went, and the marsh deeper. It sucked in nearly her whole legs now, and the bottom half of the exploration bag was dragging through the grime. The only relief was that the ground seemed to be thinning out into swamp water instead of just thick mud, and it was getting easier and easier to wade through the dungeon. But even so… any higher, and Espurr might not be able to cross. She was already waist-deep, and feeling a sickening pit in her stomach at the thought of all that mud covering her.

She did not find the scarf on the third floor, either. Instead, she found the stairs, half-submerged by the marsh. Espurr didn’t ask questions. She just pulled herself out of the mud with a squelch, her bottom half painted a blackish-brown, and hurried up to the next floor as quickly as she could.

The next floor led onto dry land, and Espurr could finally move her mud-caked legs freely again. But her relief didn’t last long—if the last couple of floors had crept her out, then this floor terrified her. The tree branches definitely looked like hands now, twisted decaying claws grasping out as if they were reaching upwards in pain. Everything was a rotting, stinking black, shaded by only the dimmest fragments of light. The plants drooped, blackened and dead. The ground squelched and splashed under her feet, soot-black, liquid muck that smelt like bile. A weak breeze smelling of rotting flesh whistled through the canopy, creating a sound like a distant anguished moan as it blew.

Espurr nearly puked, the smell was so strong. She had to cover her nose as she walked through the wasteland, barely keeping herself from quivering along the way. She was willing to admit it now: this place had her scared out of her wits. Where was that stupid scarf?

 

[The Walrein]

Here's a snippet from a work in progress called Aesop's Fables, But With Pokemon:

Spoiler: Excerpt

The Scorbunny and the Chewtle

In a certain forest, there lived a Scorbunny who went around boasting that he was the fastest Pokemon in the woods. A Chewtle happened to grow tired of hearing this, and challenged the Scorbunny to a foot race. “You really think a Pokemon as slow as you could beat me in a race on land?” Scorbunny asked.

“Sure do!” said the Chewtle. “Let’s go from here to the big half-burnt tree on the west side of the forest.”

“Hmm... I suppose there’s no harm in humoring you, but after I win, don’t expect me to wait around there for you to finally reach it.”

Chewtle grunted in acknowledgment. “That’s fine. I’ll simply get there first and wait for you,” she said.

“As if!” Scorbunny snorted. “Alright, let’s start on the count of three. One… two… thr-”

“Hey guys, are you having a race?” Both Pokemon turned to see a large, wraithlike Pokemon with a black body and white hair floating towards them. “Can I join? I love races!”

Scorbunny groaned. “Ugh, Darkrai! You always cheat at these things!”

“What? No I don’t!” Darkrai replied.

“Yes, you do! You have a race against Deerling, and he mysteriously falls asleep halfway through the contest! You race against Lopunny, and she somehow also falls asleep halfway through! Against Thievul, and he’s snoozing barely a third of the way in! Then, just yesterday, in your race with Komala he’s asleep even at the very start of the- okay, that one was probably legit. But still!”

“Well I hardly see how it’s my fault that everyone I race keeps wanting to stop and nap partway through,” Darkrai grumbled. “But if it makes you feel better, then I promise that I won’t use my Dark Void move at all during this race.”

“Or your Hypnosis move, either,” Scorbunny said, eyes narrowed.

“Fine, promised. Can we start the race now?” Darkrai asked.

“All right, sure. We’ll go on the count of three. One… two… three!” Scorbunny took off in a burst of speed, legs pumping furiously. But Darkrai managed to barely keep pace with him, levitating over obstacles Scorbunny had to go around. The two were neck and neck at the time they reached the halfway mark, whereupon Darkrai reached into a pouch tied to their waist and produced a handful of green powder, which they flung into Scorbunny’s face. The lithe young rabbit coughed and sputtered, then felt a deep exhaustion fill his body while his eyelids began to droop.

“Was that sleeping powder!? Darkrai, you cheating bas…. errrr... zzzzz...” Scorbunny collapsed onto the forest floor, and spent a long time snoozing on the grass. When he finally awoke, he slowly got up, rubbing powder out of his eyes, then recalled the race he was in with a start. Determined to not lose to Darkrai, he ran faster than he ever had before, but it was too late. He got to the burnt tree just in time to see Chewtle slowly reaching out and touching it first.

Darkrai was hovering next to the burnt tree as well, humming a cheerful tune to themselves. “Wow, that was a fun race! Looks like you were just a bit too slow to take second place, Scorbunny! Better luck next time!”

“You totally cheated again! You promised you wouldn’t do that!” Scorbunny snapped.

“Whoa now, I said I wouldn’t use Dark Void and Hypnosis, and I totally didn’t! I don’t see what the problem was!”

“You threw sleeping powder in my face!”

“Gosh, really? Not sure how that could’ve happened! It must’ve just slipped out of my bag and been blown in your face by the wind.”

“You know, it sounds like Scorbunny’s compeletely right,” Chewtle said. “Darkrai definitely cheated, and should be disqualified. Which, of course, leaves me as the winner of the race.”

A long dispute followed thereafter, but by the next week, Darkrai and Scorbunny had largely forgotten about the incident. Meanwhile, Chewtle continued to boast of the time she’d outrun the “fastest Pokemon in the forest” for years and years, and over time, certain elements of the story got cut to streamline the telling of the tale. Many generations hence, Pokemon continued to retell Chewtle’s version of the event, and no hint of Darkrai’s involvement remained.

Moral: History is written by those who take the effort to tell it.

The total wordcount is only 728 words; I don't know if that's close enough to 1,000, but I assume it's better to go under than over.

 

[Shiny Phantump]

Here's a piece of chapter one of my WIP. I think I'll actually get it up soon-ish, since I've been procrastinating and need some time pressure to get on with writing the rest of it.

Spoiler: Ch1 Snippet

He didn’t bother to moor the boat properly, instead just maneuvering it close enough to the dock, jumping, then figuring whatever happened to the boat after that was someone else’s problem.

A grey-haired older man in a black jacket approached as soon as he touched down. For someone aiding in a crime, the man was unusually unconcerned. He shot Gladion something between a smile and a smirk, seeming totally relaxed. He sounded indifferent as he spoke. “You’re the boy I’m waiting for, I take it?”

Gladion found himself smirking back. “Nah, I’m one of the other boys with a stolen Aether boat. You’re looking for the next one, he’ll probably be here soon.”

The man chuckled. “Aight, I’ll wait for him, then. See you around. Too bad it wasn’t you, I like your moxie.”

Gladion was surprised by the praise. He had figured the indifferent-sounding man would be harder to please. He also wasn’t sure how to respond without killing the joke, while also accepting the ride.

He hoped it hadn’t been long enough to count as an awkward pause by the time he spoke again. “Gee, thanks. Nice to be appreciated, I might just hitch a ride with you after all.”

The man’s smirk grew to a lopsided grin. “Done deal.” He turned to the boat, and Gladion followed. “You can call me Nanu, by the way. Your name?”

“Gladion.” It felt good to say that. Made him feel like a normal person.

“Nice name. Ain't every day I meet a ‘Gladion.’”

Okay, maybe not quite normal. Still, it was closer to normal than he had ever been allowed to feel before. That was good enough for him. “Thanks.”

---

Gladion didn’t much like small talk, and Nanu seemed to feel the same way. Both were quiet during the trip to Akala.

He thought about asking what sort of tie Nanu had to Wicke, but he decided to keep the question to himself. If Wicke had wanted him to know, she would’ve told him. It wasn’t as if Nanu seemed like the type of person to go spilling secrets, either. If he had been loose-lipped, Wicke wouldn’t have chosen him for this in the first place. She didn’t make mistakes like that.

Instead, he just listened to the whirring of the motor.

Something about it seemed so relaxing…

He could barely keep his eyes open…

---

“Hey, kid, we’re here. I know it’s late, but you’re not sleeping on my boat.”

Gladion awoke with a start. He’d apparently fallen asleep on the boat, and now Nanu was shaking him. He got up as quickly as his fatigue would allow, grabbed his bag, and hopped onto the dock.

Nanu ruffled his hair. “Good luck. You know where you’re headed, right?

He shook his head to get Nanu’s hand off it, then nodded. “Yeah.”

Tomorrow, he was supposed to hunt down an affordable place to stay in the long run, but for tonight he was staying at Tide Song Hotel. It was close enough to the dock that he could walk there, was more affordable than Grand Hano, and would be a perfectly fine place to crash for a night.

The man at the front desk looked surprised to see a fourteen-year-old at such a late hour. He was even more surprised when Gladion pulled cash from his bag and asked to stay overnight… Or, for whatever was left of the night, anyways. He was professional enough not to ask any questions, though, which was nice. Gladion was too tired to come up with excuses.

He got a blue keycard with his room number, 238, printed on it, which he shoved in his pocket. He took the elevator up to his floor, then wandered around until he found 238. He pulled a keycard out of his pocket, but the door rejected it…

Oh, he’d used Mother’s stolen keycard instead. He really should dispose of that one, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so.

He unlocked his room with the correct keycard this time, dumped his bag on the floor, and collapsed on his bed. He wished he could take Null out of their ball… but it was well after midnight and there was no way they wouldn’t make some sort of noise, be it thrilled or frightened, when seeing the world outside the Deep Labs for the first time. The attention a noise complaint would draw was the last thing he needed.

Null would have to stay in their ball that night. Gladion, physically and emotionally exhausted, fell asleep almost immediately.

---

He stirred to the sound of an alarm clock. Whoever had been in this room before him must’ve used it, and the cleaning staff didn’t notice to turn it off. Augh. He rolled over groggily to get at the vanity where the clock was.

Once he’d found the clock, he noticed the display read that it was 10:00 in the morning. That took him aback. He knew he had been up late, and that he’d crashed, but he was still surprised to see it. The lights in his room at Aether would automatically turn themselves on at 6:00, so having a dark room and a restful sleep this late in the day felt like… cheating.

Cheating was wonderful. He silenced the alarm and lay in bed for another half hour.

He did have to get out of the room by noon, though, so he made himself get up after that. He didn’t have a change of clothes with him, since enough cash to buy new clothes took up much less backpack space than a full outfit. Not like he was attached to any of Mother’s choices of clothing, anyways. He showered, then pulled on the same clothes as he’d worn yesterday. It would have to do for now.

He grabbed a quick bite to eat on the ground floor before his stay formally ended at noon, wondering if it still counted as “breakfast” at this hour, then turned his card back to the front desk, and was off.

1015 words but I really wanted to squeeze the breakfast line in

 

[Chibi Pika]

The Legendarian Chronicles - Flashbacks

Source:
Here

Context:
Flashbacks to some moments in the main trio's lives, before they got tangled up in the plot.

Wordcount:
1070

Text:

Spoiler: Excerpt

February, 5 years ago

“Alright, I admit it, I’m lost.”

A groan came from the phone. “Are you serious, Jade?”

I screwed my eyes shut, not wanting to look at the phone. I knew she’d be upset.

Starr let out a frustrated sigh. “How did you even… didn’t you get a ride?”

“I rode my bike,” I mumbled. “I thought it would be cool if I found my way by myself, so I told my mom I didn’t need a ride because it wasn’t that far, and then…” My voice trailed off.

Starr didn’t say anything. It was a good thing she couldn’t see my face burning with embarrassment.

“I was excited to finally get to see your house,” I added quietly. “It sounds really nice.” She had a huuuge TV and a pool and a million snacks.

“I gave you the address—can’t you just look it up on your phone?” Starr asked.

“I don’t have my own phone, remember?” Mom said I was too young for one. Usually I didn’t care, except for right now.

Starr was quiet for a while. “Are you calling from the Pokécenter or something?” she finally asked.

I paused. “Yeah.”

“Alright. I’ll be there in five minutes.” And then the call ended.

I blinked in confusion. She was coming here? And so soon? I wasn’t sure what to make of that, so I just went outside and sat down on the bench. It was a cold day. Another reason why trying to go by myself was a dumb idea.

Five minutes later, I heard a clip-clop sound coming from down the road and looked up to see a Ponyta trotting toward me. And Starr was riding on its back.

“Whoa!” I called out, jumping up from the bench. “Where’d he come from?”

“He’s my mom’s,” Starr said as Ponyta stopped in front of me. “I go riding with him twice a week.” Right, she had mentioned getting riding lessons before.

I reached out and ran my hand down Ponyta’s neck. His fur was warm. I was a bit worried about getting too close to his mane, but the flames were just a warm tickle. It felt nice compared to the cold air.

“Sorry to make you come get me,” I mumbled, glancing away.

Starr rubbed the back of her head. “Look, don’t worry about it, okay? You ready to eat way too much popcorn and candy?”

I brightened a little. “Yeah!”

Starr gave Ponyta a pat on the neck, and he took off down the road at a trot. I followed them on my bike, finally starting to feel better.

“It’s really cool that your parents finally let you have friends visit,” I said. I’d never even seen her parents.

Starr glanced over her shoulder with a mischievous grin. “They’re not home.”

---

June, last year

I sat tapping my feet on the floor as the phone rang once, twice, three times. It would just go to voicemail, like always. I wasn’t sure why I still bothered.

But then, miraculously, a face appeared on the screen.

“Hello?”

I brightened instantly. “Ajia! It’s been forever!”

She gave a sheepish grin. “Ahh, sorry, I know I’ve been really bad about answering my phone lately.”

“Guessing you’ve been… busy with stuff?” Busy, always busy.

“You know it,” Ajia replied with a wink. “What about you? You’re on summer break, right? Have you started your journey?”

“Uh…” I didn’t want to think about failing the test. Not right now. “It might not be for a little while.”

Ajia tilted her head. “Huh… well, let me know when you do, alright?”

I nodded distantly. If I ever did get to leave before she came home.

“Are you coming back to school in the fall?” I asked, a bit too hopeful. I was still torn between wanting her to return home and wanting her to keep journeying long enough for me to join her.

Ajia shrugged. “Well, I’m planning on participating in the Johto League in August. After that, who knows?”

It was pretty rare to keep journeying during high school. I had thought she’d be home after fighting in the Indigo League last year, but…

“Dad’s cool with me staying out longer,” she added. “And I’ve been doing fine with my online homework. So, y’know, I might keep going another year.”

Next year. It felt so far away.

Anything I could talk about from my life felt boring compared to what being on a journey would be like. Who cared if Rudy and I saw a wild Rapidash on Route 26 the other day? Real trainers could see them all the time.

“Have you seen Starr lately?” I found myself asking.

Ajia’s face fell. “No, not for a long time.”

So much for that. I’d had even worse luck getting ahold of Starr than I had with Ajia.

I was still stuck on what else I could say when a large pair of ears poked into the corner of the screen. And then another.

Ajia glanced down at them. “Yes, hello, what do you two want?” she asked in an amused tone. Two curious faces suddenly popped into full view. One violet-furred, one black.

I gaped at the screen. “How on earth did you meet an Espeon and an Umbreon?”

Ajia chuckled a bit at my shocked look. “I got them from a rescue organization. And, you know, I’d been kinda thinking I wanted to train some more team members ever since Furret and Clefable went back home. I need a full team for the Johto League, anyway.”

Espeon tilted his head and said something to Ajia in Pokéspeech. She laughed and shushed him.

A slight grin found its way onto my face. “What did Espeon say?” I’d caught the words ‘interesting’ and ‘story’ but that was about it.

“Ah, he was just making a joke about how we met,” Ajia said casually. “Which reminds me! I’ve got to tell you about what happened in Goldenrod last week. So these two were walking with me and we were looking for some place to eat, and then—”

She rambled on for a while, telling various stories from her journey. It was easy to listen to her and imagine that one day I’d get to have experiences like that.

We didn’t usually get to talk this long. It felt a little bit like old times. I’d enjoy it while I could.

 

[unrepentantAuthor]

Different Eyes - Chapter 6 Excerpt

Source:
Here

Context:
Midway through Laura's first POV appearance in the fic, this scene establishes part of her character and some of the baseline expectations for pokémon–human interaction in this setting.

Wordcount:
1111

Text:

Spoiler: Different Eyes ch6 Excerpt

Laura had left the campus hours ago, but her course had brought itself with her. Watching the green countryside of Galar breeze past brought no relaxation, just a slowly-intensifying awareness of time passing since she last studied. She smothered the urge to drown her brain in useless smartphone bullshit and turned to her textbooks once again. What was the point in going home for the holidays if all she was going to do was revise?
Well. She’d get to see Salem. That would be worth it.
In lieu of her own purrloin, maybe there’d be pokémon on the train she could talk to. Trainers weren’t uncommon on domestic rail, right? But who approached strangers on public transport to ask to talk to their pokémon? In Galar? Nutcases, and Unovans on holiday.
All the same, she’d love to talk to a trainer. Any trainer. A pro tournament competitor like Marnie, a kid on her first day, whoever. She could ask them about their team, about what they’d seen out in the wilds, and feel like it was all a little less far away. It would be comforting, the same way it was comforting to search online for companies with pokémon-friendly workplaces. That was normal in Galar. For fuck’s sake, practically any field would let her work with pokémon, anything but fucking finance.
Her eyes fell on a a snapback trainer’s cap further down the carriage. Worth a try. A minute later, with her luggage tucked into the overhead storage, she approached the wearer and gave a shy little wave. A strip on the boy’s collar held a trio of pokéballs. Perfect.
“Uh, hi?” said the kid, looking up from his phone.
“You’re a trainer, right?” she asked, anxious jitters multiplying in her limbs already.
“Yeah? Yeah. Can I help you?”
Laura laughed nervously. “I was just wondering if I could see any of your pokémon… I don’t see a lot of tame ‘mon on campus.”
The boy gave her a bit of a look, and Laura nearly started apologising for even asking, but then he scoffed, smiled, and reached for his collar.
“He’ll be grumpy that I’m waking him. Got any snacks?”
“I have a granola bar?”
The trainer shrugged, and maximised a pokéball. One firm finger-press, and it popped open with that distinctive hollow smack sound, silver energy coalescing in the nearest train seat. When the glow faded, a jade-and-crimson lizard barely shorter than Laura sat there, human-like, returning her stare with a cool, wary gaze. He made a sort of clicking growl, and tilted his head in the most casual sign there was: [Huh?]
The thing about most reptilian pokémon was that they tended not to be particularly social. But grovyle were traditional circuit partners in many regions; they were one of those evolutionary lines that developed alongside human travellers. Smart. Bold. Not to be condescended to.
Laura gave a nod and made a few quick signs – [Hello. Your partner says you are hungry.] – and presented her snack bar. Grovyle peered at it with his head at a sharp angle, then took it in one vicious-looking claw. He looked like a battler, all quick movement and lean muscle. The gloss of his scales made Laura want to touch them.
[Who’s this?] signed Grovyle, somehow managing to look sassy. His trainer shrugged, and Grovyle shrugged back, then tore open the packaging with a razor-sharp claw. His crest-leaf quivered with excitement even as his face remained unemotional.
Laura watched Grovyle eat her food, noting how he held it almost like a human, but didn’t chew. Just a brief crunch to break it into pieces, with a jaw full of needlepoint teeth. She felt the perplexed gaze of Grovyle’s trainer on her, wondering why she was so taken with a pokémon eating food. Of course, he would have seen this countless times. It was only fascinating to Laura because she hadn’t seen shit. It was embarrassing, really.
[I wanted to meet a pokémon who battles,] she explained, surprising herself. Grovyle watched her, hardly blinking. She continued, [I have been apart from my partner for a long time. You look very strong. Like I want to help my partner be.]
Grovyle turned his head further, to peer at her more closely with one yellow eye. Then he signed, deftly, in abrupt bursts. Reptile-accented signing was so unlike what Laura usually saw from Salem, and he was so fluent. A guilty part of her mind wondered if Salem would ever be half as articulate as this.
[I am pretty strong,] signed Grovyle, whose throat seemed to flare a brighter red in response to the praise. [However, strength in battle comes from pokémon and human, together. I am stronger with a strong trainer. I am weaker with a weak trainer.] He made the wavering motion with one claw and cocked-head that meant [So…?]
Laura bit her lip. The most important thing in the world just then was to give this lizard a good answer. She tried: slow, deliberate hand gestures, the ‘flexing/pushing’ motion for strength, indicator signs…
[If I want my partner to be strong, I have to be strong.]
Grovyle nodded, then he stuck his tongue out at her and tipped his head up. Clear approval. Laura’s shoulders untensed in relief.
[So be strong,] signed Grovyle. [That is my advice.]
Laura smiled, taking care not to show teeth. “Thank you,” she said. She considered asking to touch Grovyle’s scales. Maybe he’d object…
[May I touch you?]
Grovyle put his head on one side. [Do you have more food?]
“[Sorry, no.]”
[Then no. I would like to go back in my ball now, thank you and goodbye.]
Laura nodded, and Grovyle’s trainer bemusedly held out a pokéball for retrieval. Grovyle dipped his head at Laura – [Nice meeting you.] – and tapped the ball with his claw, only to vanish in a flicker of light.
Laura smiled awkwardly at the trainer. “[Thanks,]” she managed.
“What was that all about?” he asked, already pulling his phone back out.
Laura shrugged. “Stuff.”
The kid grunted, and thus seemed to consider the conversation concluded. Laura returned to her seat with a tiny smirk playing at the corner of her mouth. A circuit ace ‘mon had given her advice. And she’d signed a conversation! She wasn’t all that out of practice after all. Hopefully Salem wouldn’t be either, not that mum and dad would ever bother learning sign for her. Either way, it would be good to get home and talk to her bloody purrloin again, priceless little shit that she was. Howls, she’d be so glad to see Salem.

 

[Dragonfree]

Leeeet's throw in...

Morphic Bingo
Contains some swearing and questionable parenting and briefly references violence on TV.

Context
Jean is a Vulpix Pokémorph; Dave is her father. They live in a world very much like Earth but with Pokémon. This is a self-contained extra for my Pokémorph fanfic Morphic, which is currently undergoing a rewrite. (This is the full short, although Morphic Bingo contains two more shorts as well.)

Word count
1156

Spoiler: Morphic-Verse Media short

Jean leaned over Dave’s shoulder from behind the sofa, draping her arms over him. “Dad? Can I watch Pokémon Colosseum? My classmates say it’s so cool!”

He glanced up from his laptop at the muted TV. It was still on the news channel from earlier, discussing some inane political scandal invented for clicks. “I guess. What channel is it on?”

“OBS! It’s starting now.”

Sure, why not. He picked up the remote and switched over.

“It’s still on mute!” Jean complained, climbing over the back of the sofa and trying to grab the remote off him.

“Yeah, because it’s still on the fucking commercials. I’ll turn it on when the show starts.”

Jean pouted, glancing longingly at the remote as he held it out of her reach, but was quickly distracted by the screen and whatever action movie it was advertising. Some CG legendary Pokémon (Rayquaza?) fired a Hyper Beam into a building, shattering windows, sending it collapsing in an artfully-rendered physics simulation, before it cut to a flying superhero shooting lightning from his hands as his cape fluttered behind him.

“I wanna see that movie! It looks cool.”

Dave sighed. “Are you sure this isn’t literally the exact same movie as the one we saw, what, a month ago?”

She crossed her arms. “That one was about Auric Arrow. And it was two months ago. We haven’t gone to the movies in ages.”

“What’s the difference?”

Jean made a frustrated noise of discontent, butting his shoulder with her head. “Auric Arrow is a Lucario who was experimented on to make him super smart! You weren’t watching!”

Dave smirked. “What, and this one isn’t?”

“No, it was a human!” He grinned at her frustration, and she scowled as she caught on. “Daaaaad, stop pretending you don’t know! That’s mean!” He got a faceful of fluffy tails as she turned her back on him.

“Fine, we can go see your stupid superhero movie. Later. Not now.” At least it’d be a good excuse to turn his brain off and eat some popcorn.

“Of course we’re not seeing it now, I want to watch Colosseum,” she mumbled, without turning around.

Dave glanced back up at the TV. The commercial was fading to black at last. He pointed the remote and unmuted it. The rating badge in the corner said 14-LV. Was that stretching it? Eh, well, if her classmates could handle it, whatever. “Hey, show’s starting.”

Jean reluctantly turned back to the TV. The recap showed an edgy young hero in a blue duster triumphantly speeding away from an exploding building on a hovercycle, an Espeon and Umbreon sitting in the sidecar beside him. Jean was already mesmerized.

By the time of the first commercial break, the protagonist was making his way around an impressively seedy desert town with his inevitable love interest and their predictable sexual tension. Jean was so engrossed by the gritty aesthetic and occasional ‘shit’ and slightly bloodier fights than in her usual fare that he entertained the thought she’d entirely forgotten about earlier already, but once the commercials started again she glared at him and edged further away on the sofa.

Dave took a deep breath as he muted the TV. “Hey. Sweetie.”

She looked warily back at him.

“We’ll go see your movie. Maybe next weekend.”

“It’s not stupid,” she said firmly.

It really was, though. “Look, just because a grown-up thinks a movie is stupid doesn’t mean you have to think so. I’m sure you think half the shit I watch is pretty dumb.”

Jean nodded reproachfully. “Like when you watch old guys talk about politics for ages. That’s dumb.”

“See? You’re a kid, you’re allowed to want to just watch some fucking superheroes blow shit up.” He hadn’t been allowed to read superhero comics when he was little – his parents had disapproved of anything where humans had supernatural powers because something something witchcraft playing God – but he’d sure fucking wanted to.

“But you have to come with me to the movies.”

He sighed. “Yeah, I’ll come with you.”

Jean nodded, grinning. “If you want to go see a movie with old guys talking about politics I’ll come with you too! So long as I get popcorn.”

Dave chuckled. “Sounds like a plan.”

The show was starting again. He unmuted the TV, and Jean moved back closer to him on the sofa, laying her head on his shoulder, and he ruffled her hair absent-mindedly.

The show got pretty dark towards the end. A Pokémon went berserk and skewered another, and Jean jumped, clutching his arm. He considered turning it off, but she was still watching, wide-eyed, and by this point he kind of wanted to know where they were going with it. She’d just say if she didn’t want to watch anymore, right? It had to be fine.

-------

He woke up to hands shaking him. Sleepily, he squinted into the darkness to find Jean standing by his bed in her pajamas, clutching her Teddiursa plush. Dave glanced at the alarm clock on the bedside table; it was 2:43 AM.

“What?” he mumbled.

“I had a bad dream,” she sniffled.

Oh. Shit. “Because of the show?” She nodded guiltily. He rubbed at his face. Fuck. How was he supposed to know? Apparently her classmates had been fine. Why was being a parent so difficult?

“Look, it’s okay. They can’t do any of that in real life.”

“Can I sleep in your bed?”

She hadn’t asked that in ages. At what age were they supposed to stop that? Not about to fucking tell her to wait while he Googled it. “Sure, Jean, just get on the other side.”

He closed his eyes and massaged his eyelids while she climbed over him and got under the covers.

“Does this mean I can’t watch the show anymore?” she said in a small voice.

He made a tired noise. “I mean. Do you want to?” He waited a second while she didn’t answer. “And then I mean, do you want to because you want to, not because your fucking classmates think you should.”

“I don’t know,” she said, sniffling again.

“Look, if it’s giving you nightmares now, maybe you can just watch it a few years from now, if you’re still interested.” Who knew if she would be. Jean’s interests shifted so fast he couldn’t keep up.

There was a pause. “But they’re watching it.”

“Yeah, well, they’re not you. If they give you shit, just tell them your dad said it’s a really fucking stupid show.”

She sniffled again. “Okay. Thanks, Dad.”

He heard the comforter rustling again as she turned around. Did that go okay? No real way to tell. Definitely not at three in the fucking morning.

“Good night,” he mumbled.

“Good night, Dad.” Well, she sounded a bit better.

With a sigh, Dave buried his face back in his pillow and tried to sleep.

Alternate:

The Quest for the Legends

Context
Mark, May and Alan are on a quest to save the world; Alan has just stormed off after lashing out in disillusionment with their mission, and after leaving him alone for a bit, Mark has come to try to talk to him.

Word count
1144

Spoiler: Chapter 66 excerpt

“Hey,” Mark said as he came up to the rock. “You okay?”

Alan shot only a brief glance in his direction before returning his gaze to the distance ahead, where the tiny village of Merville bordered the calm ocean. For a second he was silent; then, quietly, he muttered, “I’m not sure I want to do this anymore.”

Mark stared at him. “What do you mean, you don’t want to do this?”

“It just... makes me feel bad.” Alan paused, still not looking in Mark’s direction. “I’m angry all the time, and everything we do just angers me more. I’m tired of pretending nothing’s wrong. I don’t want to feel this way.”

Alan grabbed a long grass stalk and pulled at it, his knuckles white; it didn’t budge, and he unclenched his fist in defeat and let it go again.

“Do you… do you know why you feel like that?” Mark asked after a few seconds.

Alan paused for a long moment. “Maybe Chaletwo’s right,” he said eventually. “Maybe this really has been a vanity project for me. My dad’s always been this big celebrity hero, and I… wasn’t. On my own journey I just sort of wandered around without even the drive to participate in a League, and I didn’t feel like I’d really accomplished anything. When I came with you I thought I was finally going to do something amazing and important like him, but here we are bumbling around with no idea what we’re doing, making one stupid mistake after another, and I just... I don’t feel very heroic.”

Mark wasn’t sure how to respond to that. He’d never really thought about what they were doing in those terms. Heroes were people in stories, people with special destinies. People who were fated to succeed.

“And every time something bad happens,” Alan went on, “I feel like I should have seen it coming and done something about it. I think that every time, that from now on everything’s going to go right because I’m going to pay attention and spot the flaws and fix everything, but it doesn’t work. I can’t fix anything. I don’t even notice things that need to be fixed until it’s too late.” He sighed, fiddling with the grass again. “And who was I kidding? I couldn’t even be a proper Pokémon trainer.”

“What are you talking about?” Mark said, dumbfounded. “You don’t need to take part in a League to be a proper Pokémon trainer. Loads of trainers never do.”

Alan hugged his knees with both arms. “I had more Pokémon,” he said, quietly. “Charlie and Racko and them are the ones that stayed behind. The others wanted to go to the League. And I guess they found new trainers who did, eventually. People like you and Robin.” He grimaced, his voice turning bitter. “Or even May.”

“There’s no shame in releasing your Pokémon when that’s what they want,” Mark said. “I released Letaligon while you were gone – even Scyther was maybe going to leave the night that you came back, even though he ended up staying. And didn’t… didn’t your dad release a bunch of his Pokémon, too?”

Alan made a small noise of dismay. “That’s… that’s different. Letaligon wanted to get stronger and evolve and then go to fight her father. You did that for her. You took her to the League and helped her evolve and then took her back to Ruxido, exactly like she wanted. She didn’t leave because you’d failed her.” He shot a glance towards Mark out of the corner of his eye. “Even then,” he went on in a murmur, “when I was a kid and my dad told me about all the Pokémon he’d released on his journey, I always thought I could do better. I could be an even better trainer and then they wouldn’t want to leave.” The conclusion hung unspoken in the air.

Mark stepped closer, facing Alan, his mind racing. “I… I think I get it,” he said slowly. “Sandslash once told me that most Pokémon grow up wanting a trainer who’ll just take them to the League and make them strong and then release them, and that really good trainers are the ones who can make them change their minds. I think you said something similar once too, right?”

Alan winced silently, not moving.

“I don’t think you should expect to change every Pokémon’s mind, though,” Mark said. “They’re… they’re not all going to want the same thing, right? It’s not a measure of how good you are; it’s about who they are and what they want. Scyther decided to come back instead of staying with his swarm, but I don’t think that means I’m a better trainer than if he hadn’t.”

“I know,” Alan said, sighing. “Like I said, it’s something I thought when I was a kid. It’s just…”

“And I mean, six of your Pokémon did want to stay with you. I think that makes it pretty clear you were the best kind of trainer, even if some of the others chose differently. And for the ones who didn’t want to stay, you respected that and released them. I don’t think there’s anything better you could have done.”

“I could have taken them to the League like they wanted,” Alan replied, his voice dull.

“But you don’t have to take everyone where they want to go,” Mark said. “I’m sure some of my Pokémon want to continue training after this, but after the League I realized I don’t want to.” Alan looked up at him in vague surprise. “Just like they don’t have to stay with you if they don’t want to, you don’t have to go to the League if you don’t want to. What you want matters too, and if you and your Pokémon want different things, you have to split up.”

Alan stared into the distance, thinking. “Do you think I’m too self-sacrificing?” he said after a while.

“I guess maybe, sometimes,” Mark said. After a moment of thought, he sat down on the ground beside the rock. “That’s not… it’s not exactly a bad thing, though,” he went on. “I mean, being selfless is a good thing. But you’re allowed to think of what you want, too, and you shouldn’t beat yourself up about quitting training when you weren’t into it anymore. I’m sure your Pokémon understood, even if they were disappointed.”

Mark glanced up at Alan; he was still gazing unseeingly towards Merville, but there were tears at the corners of his eyes, and Mark quickly looked away again.

“So,” Alan said quietly after a minute, “if I quit now, you’d understand?”

Oh. Mark hadn’t thought of it that way around at all – but now, the answer was inevitable.

“Yeah.” He exhaled, looking back up at Alan. “If that’s what you need to do.”