Nikita Dracovish
Bug Catcher
tl;dr: About a meta, angsty LiveJournal fusion of Misty/May/Dawn/Serena who feels like she’s blown her shot at being really famous and getting it on with Ash. Waaah.
You know that one coworker who can't stop talking about how she used to have it better decades ago, despite a steady job and a social life? That's Dismay, who thinks she's older than she actually is. (Kinda like Ash.)
Or you know that one voice actor who shows up to every comic-con, trapped into making money off your childhood when they should've been a famous singer or Oscar-winning actor?
Meet Dismay, Ash's former companion on Pocket Monsters, the Kantonese show that was everywhere when you were growing up, encouraging kids to spend money in hopes of becoming the best there ever was. Replaced by producer demands to "keep the show fresh", she realized that all that time running up and down Kanto was the best years of her life. Now a corporate coordinator for Silph Co., the same company that produced Pocket Monsters, she spends her 9-to-5 dispatching Pokemon Coordinators and setting up Contests... and wishing she was back in the field, back in the spotlight, and back in the arms of the only person she loved.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
Unova City lights were a comfort on nights like this.
Every other night, almost every night, they were just there, out of reach.
If she bothered looking up, she'd look up at the skyscrapers of boring people in boring cubicles with boring jobs that didn’t involve Pokémon, toiling away, just like her - but she hoped to catch a glimpse of people staring down at the city, hoped they thought about the same things she did, hoped they were as unlucky as she was.
Arceus knew how many people who were luckier than her, even when she was drowning in license deals and royalty fees, even when she had a roof over her head.
But every time she bothered with looking up, she only saw people with places to go and things to do that were important, whatever that was. She wonders if any of them remembered the world outside their cubicles, outside the traffic. The real world, crawling with Pokemon, where trainers try to be the very best, where Ash or Brock or maybe her carved their way through the wilderness so long ago.
Maybe not, because that's all in the past.
Tonight, though, the lights shined down through the torrent, on everyone, every stranger on the street and every car that crawled past-
-shone so bright that she could see the way they huddled against each other in the rain or frowned-
-revealing the kind of face you wore when you had nothing to smile about.
Everyone seemed to be feeling the same way she felt.
“Nostalgia Reborn”, the tickets she holds in her hand promises. Some live show, starring that kid with goggles from that rival monster show, also aimed at bilking money out of kids, and that one girl who hung out with the kid with the spiky hair on the other rival monster show about getting kids to spend money on card games. The two of them, going over old times, old mistakes - when Pocket Monsters were all the rage and everyone wanted a piece.
Your past, coming back all this way to get laughed at like it's one big joke.
Just hop this train to Unova and make your way through the Financial District, shouldering your way past lost tourists and people with some place to be.
She learned about the show on the Pokenet when she was bored at work, risking her job for being vaguely interested in a life of her own by looking at something that wasn't her stupid reports or spreadsheets, scrolling the morass of events the world always seemed to run when she wasn't looking or when she didn't have enough money.
Nostalgia. When things were better.
She needed to go. It was a new year, and the past still kept calling, because it was better than now, better than your mom trying her best to call you a failure for not being a Rhyhorn Racer or whatever dreams she had for you, better than your sisters holding on to grudges about who ran the Gym until it escalated into another fight, better than your hands aching because all you can do are reports on reports on reports.
She had to go. So she goes, even though she’s sick and her sisters were fighting again and she had work early in the morning. Maybe she goes because of all that.
The rain came down like the night Mewtwo nearly threw the whole world to the hells, or the night she’d almost kissed him when the cavern they took shelter in seemed to be the only dry place in the world, or the day she was told she had to go back home to Kanto because make way for the new kids who cost less money, make way for the future, make way for the new mascots and the world that's suddenly left you behind.
The rain kept coming down-
-----------------
Hey, Ash.
We're stuck in a cavern and I can't sleep.
I'm hovering over your sleeping bag, trying to scrub Jigglypuff's graffiti from your stupid friggin' face.
I want to say it wasn't like this in Kalos, but it was - always charging off into the long grass and getting your butt kicked, and me worrying my behind off while you dream about something else-
-----------------
You wanted to be a singer, once, but Arceus, your throat scratches as you rasp at the ticket window. Get your ticket, get your ass in.
She wonders if she knows anyone in the crowd. They're all her age or older, faces and bodies that were youthful once, smiling and chatting. She can't bring herself to say hi, make sure anyone knew she existed, because you're no one. You can't walk up to strangers without polite 'who the heck is this' conversation waiting for this nobody to go away. You're not Ash.
The lights fall on the stage, and she barely remembers the three people who come out with smiles that seemed sad to her.
The boy of the duo had spiky hair, reminded her of Ash when he had his cap off, always had these pilot googles strapped to his forehead like they did something and would eventually come in handy. Already, he's mocking appending 'mon' to the end of every sentence, before pointing out that at least it wasn't anything like Pocket Monsters making Pikachu say his name over and over again. (Dismay had to force a laugh.)
The girl with him wore her brown hair straight, and had a face just made for smiling like there wasn't a care in the world. Sure enough, she was putting out rapid-fire quips about all the rules of the card games she had to memorize ("WHAT DOES POT OF GREED DO?!", screamed someone in the audience).
The moderator was someone she knew in passing (for a moment you think he's Ash but it's just his stupid Arceusdamn hat) - she thinks he extracted monsters from discs or something and had a really creepy monster that consisted of one giant eyeball and teeth for days, and she tries to search for some details beyond “reminds you of Ash because who didn’t back then”, and who didn’t, now, you’re always leaping at the phone when you think he's calling, or when you and him do a nostalgic press tour at some Arceusforsaken convention where you had to suffer through “did you really love him” or some nerd ranting about how Pokemon battles didn't work like that in real life.
Under the lights, in front of a screen that showed old footage of battles long past, bad guys that were beaten, television spots and behind-the-scenes goofing off, the three chat like old friends.
They talk about all the dumb stuff Bandai and Konami and Tecmo did to them to appeal to the kids and sell more merchandise.
They joke about the monster names.
They knew what it was like to be famous.
They've been through agents reading them long lines of legalese that they couldn't have comprehended as kids, through unpaid appearances, through singing lessons, through corporate-mandated "raps" that the three of them still cringe at, through long working hours, through annoyed directors, through nights on the town where everyone knew their name and kids came for miles to get their autographs.
They probably had dreams before they signed the contract, kept dreaming as they made fun of the crap dialogue, the bad exposition, the executives demanding this or that, dreaming that they'd grew older and have a REAL career, clung to those dreams after the contracts were done and dusted.
They’ve moved on from those dreams, maybe.
They chat about battles, how they were always going to win because they were stars of their own shows, and she can’t shake the feeling that she may have wasted half her life trying to be the star long after she wasn't. She couldn’t even beat Red, or Blue, or even Leaf. Friggin’ Leaf.
-----------------
Hey, Ash.
It's our last battle before I hop on a boat to go far away from you.
I don't care about the contest, I don't care about the battle. I'm not hoping to win against you.
You're looking at me, wondering what's wrong, why I'm just staring and not bothering to attack.
Arceus, it's like every stupid romance novel I've ever read, but I want this to last forever.
-----------------
It’s just one of those nights, she says as she steps out into the rain. The place wasn't too far from the Unovan docks, close enough to smell the sea. It was a drizzle, now, threatening to turn back into a downpour at any moment - the kind when she still ran her stage show, dancing with Staryu, Seel, the moment she’d stretch her hand up and one of her Pokemon obliges by doing a backflip over her. Ooh. Aah.
You used to pull crowds like that, Dismay.
The streets were emptier, now. Even though the lights were still there, they seemed dimmer. Restaurants shuttered, waiters dashing in and out with garbage bags. Cars crawled past. Sometimes, she'd see someone with someone else, their conversation made distant by the city as they walked to somewhere they belonged.
Even when the sea seemed so much darker at night, the boats in Unova Bay held steady, even as the chop of the waves roared up. Lights - hey, I'm here, I existed, I'm going somewhere away - winked from decks, at each other, at her as she sped down the boulevard, the tide reaching up to try and drench her-
-----------------
Hey, Ash.
We're at the docks, the boat's waiting below this escalator, and I'm wondering if it's the last time I'll see you.
Please say something, anything, to let me know that you won't forget me.
-----------------
It’s one of those nights where you can’t help but see the past in everyone’s face, the streets a blur as you grip your bike (he still owed you but you can’t bring yourself to remind him or the tears might come). Where you’re glad you’re alive, glad you lived through it, glad to welcome that aching desperation of i want to go back, back when it was just you and I and all the time in the world.
The station had an escalator, taking her away from the strange half-awake city, the rain turning to nothing-
Where’d you get that hat, she heard someone down below on the battle subway. She looks. It’s Ash’s hat, some frigging “new” rerelease or other, proudly worn by a dudebro grinning as he approaches another dudebro. She’d recognize that stupid triangle symbol anywhere. He’s still famous, wasn’t he? The men below chat like old friends, while you’re up here clutching your bike, alone.
You should call him. Tell him you want to see him again. But he’s so busy. He's so dense.
He's everything you ever wanted him to be.
The train pulls into the night and towards wherever home was.
Kalos. Kanto. Johto. Hoenn. Sinnoh.
Who was she kidding? It wasn't home without him.
You’ll go to bed and you’ll forget it all in the morning, pop over to work and check on the queue list and keep out of all the gossip and wonder if you’ll be promoted.
You'll go about your day, but you won’t ever stop having those nights.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
This was supposed to be a fucking joke character for a roleplaying site, but instead, a combination of work burnout, family in-fighting, the mental health issues of some relatives, getting sad over my ex, and Sword/Shield reigniting my obsession with Pokemon made me pump out this story for her profile.
This is based on an actual thing I went to in San Francisco, part of an annual comedy thing they do every January. The show's called Nostalgia Personified, and if you grew up with Nickelodeon/All That, I'd say it's a must watch (or listen).
Just so we're clear, this is about a fucking joke character drawn by someone on /vp/ back in 2008. I even listened to Misty's Song on repeat, just to get myself in the 'bad 90s series' zone. You'd think listening to bad cash-cow tie-ins to a shitty franchise that hasn't changed since the 90s would ward me off from obsessing over it, but...
You know that one coworker who can't stop talking about how she used to have it better decades ago, despite a steady job and a social life? That's Dismay, who thinks she's older than she actually is. (Kinda like Ash.)
Or you know that one voice actor who shows up to every comic-con, trapped into making money off your childhood when they should've been a famous singer or Oscar-winning actor?
Meet Dismay, Ash's former companion on Pocket Monsters, the Kantonese show that was everywhere when you were growing up, encouraging kids to spend money in hopes of becoming the best there ever was. Replaced by producer demands to "keep the show fresh", she realized that all that time running up and down Kanto was the best years of her life. Now a corporate coordinator for Silph Co., the same company that produced Pocket Monsters, she spends her 9-to-5 dispatching Pokemon Coordinators and setting up Contests... and wishing she was back in the field, back in the spotlight, and back in the arms of the only person she loved.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
Unova City lights were a comfort on nights like this.
Every other night, almost every night, they were just there, out of reach.
If she bothered looking up, she'd look up at the skyscrapers of boring people in boring cubicles with boring jobs that didn’t involve Pokémon, toiling away, just like her - but she hoped to catch a glimpse of people staring down at the city, hoped they thought about the same things she did, hoped they were as unlucky as she was.
Arceus knew how many people who were luckier than her, even when she was drowning in license deals and royalty fees, even when she had a roof over her head.
But every time she bothered with looking up, she only saw people with places to go and things to do that were important, whatever that was. She wonders if any of them remembered the world outside their cubicles, outside the traffic. The real world, crawling with Pokemon, where trainers try to be the very best, where Ash or Brock or maybe her carved their way through the wilderness so long ago.
Maybe not, because that's all in the past.
Tonight, though, the lights shined down through the torrent, on everyone, every stranger on the street and every car that crawled past-
-shone so bright that she could see the way they huddled against each other in the rain or frowned-
-revealing the kind of face you wore when you had nothing to smile about.
Everyone seemed to be feeling the same way she felt.
“Nostalgia Reborn”, the tickets she holds in her hand promises. Some live show, starring that kid with goggles from that rival monster show, also aimed at bilking money out of kids, and that one girl who hung out with the kid with the spiky hair on the other rival monster show about getting kids to spend money on card games. The two of them, going over old times, old mistakes - when Pocket Monsters were all the rage and everyone wanted a piece.
Your past, coming back all this way to get laughed at like it's one big joke.
Just hop this train to Unova and make your way through the Financial District, shouldering your way past lost tourists and people with some place to be.
She learned about the show on the Pokenet when she was bored at work, risking her job for being vaguely interested in a life of her own by looking at something that wasn't her stupid reports or spreadsheets, scrolling the morass of events the world always seemed to run when she wasn't looking or when she didn't have enough money.
Nostalgia. When things were better.
She needed to go. It was a new year, and the past still kept calling, because it was better than now, better than your mom trying her best to call you a failure for not being a Rhyhorn Racer or whatever dreams she had for you, better than your sisters holding on to grudges about who ran the Gym until it escalated into another fight, better than your hands aching because all you can do are reports on reports on reports.
She had to go. So she goes, even though she’s sick and her sisters were fighting again and she had work early in the morning. Maybe she goes because of all that.
The rain came down like the night Mewtwo nearly threw the whole world to the hells, or the night she’d almost kissed him when the cavern they took shelter in seemed to be the only dry place in the world, or the day she was told she had to go back home to Kanto because make way for the new kids who cost less money, make way for the future, make way for the new mascots and the world that's suddenly left you behind.
The rain kept coming down-
-----------------
Hey, Ash.
We're stuck in a cavern and I can't sleep.
I'm hovering over your sleeping bag, trying to scrub Jigglypuff's graffiti from your stupid friggin' face.
I want to say it wasn't like this in Kalos, but it was - always charging off into the long grass and getting your butt kicked, and me worrying my behind off while you dream about something else-
-----------------
You wanted to be a singer, once, but Arceus, your throat scratches as you rasp at the ticket window. Get your ticket, get your ass in.
She wonders if she knows anyone in the crowd. They're all her age or older, faces and bodies that were youthful once, smiling and chatting. She can't bring herself to say hi, make sure anyone knew she existed, because you're no one. You can't walk up to strangers without polite 'who the heck is this' conversation waiting for this nobody to go away. You're not Ash.
The lights fall on the stage, and she barely remembers the three people who come out with smiles that seemed sad to her.
The boy of the duo had spiky hair, reminded her of Ash when he had his cap off, always had these pilot googles strapped to his forehead like they did something and would eventually come in handy. Already, he's mocking appending 'mon' to the end of every sentence, before pointing out that at least it wasn't anything like Pocket Monsters making Pikachu say his name over and over again. (Dismay had to force a laugh.)
The girl with him wore her brown hair straight, and had a face just made for smiling like there wasn't a care in the world. Sure enough, she was putting out rapid-fire quips about all the rules of the card games she had to memorize ("WHAT DOES POT OF GREED DO?!", screamed someone in the audience).
The moderator was someone she knew in passing (for a moment you think he's Ash but it's just his stupid Arceusdamn hat) - she thinks he extracted monsters from discs or something and had a really creepy monster that consisted of one giant eyeball and teeth for days, and she tries to search for some details beyond “reminds you of Ash because who didn’t back then”, and who didn’t, now, you’re always leaping at the phone when you think he's calling, or when you and him do a nostalgic press tour at some Arceusforsaken convention where you had to suffer through “did you really love him” or some nerd ranting about how Pokemon battles didn't work like that in real life.
Under the lights, in front of a screen that showed old footage of battles long past, bad guys that were beaten, television spots and behind-the-scenes goofing off, the three chat like old friends.
They talk about all the dumb stuff Bandai and Konami and Tecmo did to them to appeal to the kids and sell more merchandise.
They joke about the monster names.
They knew what it was like to be famous.
They've been through agents reading them long lines of legalese that they couldn't have comprehended as kids, through unpaid appearances, through singing lessons, through corporate-mandated "raps" that the three of them still cringe at, through long working hours, through annoyed directors, through nights on the town where everyone knew their name and kids came for miles to get their autographs.
They probably had dreams before they signed the contract, kept dreaming as they made fun of the crap dialogue, the bad exposition, the executives demanding this or that, dreaming that they'd grew older and have a REAL career, clung to those dreams after the contracts were done and dusted.
They’ve moved on from those dreams, maybe.
They chat about battles, how they were always going to win because they were stars of their own shows, and she can’t shake the feeling that she may have wasted half her life trying to be the star long after she wasn't. She couldn’t even beat Red, or Blue, or even Leaf. Friggin’ Leaf.
-----------------
Hey, Ash.
It's our last battle before I hop on a boat to go far away from you.
I don't care about the contest, I don't care about the battle. I'm not hoping to win against you.
You're looking at me, wondering what's wrong, why I'm just staring and not bothering to attack.
Arceus, it's like every stupid romance novel I've ever read, but I want this to last forever.
-----------------
It’s just one of those nights, she says as she steps out into the rain. The place wasn't too far from the Unovan docks, close enough to smell the sea. It was a drizzle, now, threatening to turn back into a downpour at any moment - the kind when she still ran her stage show, dancing with Staryu, Seel, the moment she’d stretch her hand up and one of her Pokemon obliges by doing a backflip over her. Ooh. Aah.
You used to pull crowds like that, Dismay.
The streets were emptier, now. Even though the lights were still there, they seemed dimmer. Restaurants shuttered, waiters dashing in and out with garbage bags. Cars crawled past. Sometimes, she'd see someone with someone else, their conversation made distant by the city as they walked to somewhere they belonged.
Even when the sea seemed so much darker at night, the boats in Unova Bay held steady, even as the chop of the waves roared up. Lights - hey, I'm here, I existed, I'm going somewhere away - winked from decks, at each other, at her as she sped down the boulevard, the tide reaching up to try and drench her-
-----------------
Hey, Ash.
We're at the docks, the boat's waiting below this escalator, and I'm wondering if it's the last time I'll see you.
Please say something, anything, to let me know that you won't forget me.
-----------------
It’s one of those nights where you can’t help but see the past in everyone’s face, the streets a blur as you grip your bike (he still owed you but you can’t bring yourself to remind him or the tears might come). Where you’re glad you’re alive, glad you lived through it, glad to welcome that aching desperation of i want to go back, back when it was just you and I and all the time in the world.
The station had an escalator, taking her away from the strange half-awake city, the rain turning to nothing-
-----------------
Hey, Ash.
It'd sure look stupid if I turned around on this escalator and ran up to kiss you, huh?
But nothing I'll ever do will work, will it?
I don't want to go to Hoenn to be a Coordinator. I want to stay here with you.
-----------------
Hey, Ash.
It'd sure look stupid if I turned around on this escalator and ran up to kiss you, huh?
But nothing I'll ever do will work, will it?
I don't want to go to Hoenn to be a Coordinator. I want to stay here with you.
-----------------
Where’d you get that hat, she heard someone down below on the battle subway. She looks. It’s Ash’s hat, some frigging “new” rerelease or other, proudly worn by a dudebro grinning as he approaches another dudebro. She’d recognize that stupid triangle symbol anywhere. He’s still famous, wasn’t he? The men below chat like old friends, while you’re up here clutching your bike, alone.
You should call him. Tell him you want to see him again. But he’s so busy. He's so dense.
He's everything you ever wanted him to be.
The train pulls into the night and towards wherever home was.
Kalos. Kanto. Johto. Hoenn. Sinnoh.
Who was she kidding? It wasn't home without him.
You’ll go to bed and you’ll forget it all in the morning, pop over to work and check on the queue list and keep out of all the gossip and wonder if you’ll be promoted.
You'll go about your day, but you won’t ever stop having those nights.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
This was supposed to be a fucking joke character for a roleplaying site, but instead, a combination of work burnout, family in-fighting, the mental health issues of some relatives, getting sad over my ex, and Sword/Shield reigniting my obsession with Pokemon made me pump out this story for her profile.
This is based on an actual thing I went to in San Francisco, part of an annual comedy thing they do every January. The show's called Nostalgia Personified, and if you grew up with Nickelodeon/All That, I'd say it's a must watch (or listen).
Just so we're clear, this is about a fucking joke character drawn by someone on /vp/ back in 2008. I even listened to Misty's Song on repeat, just to get myself in the 'bad 90s series' zone. You'd think listening to bad cash-cow tie-ins to a shitty franchise that hasn't changed since the 90s would ward me off from obsessing over it, but...
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