Now that is a much more believable set up for a Slaughterhouse 9000 arc.
Fencer's Plot Bunnies
Now that is a much more believable set up for a Slaughterhouse 9000 arc.
Would the clones of the 9 be evil? The already are evil and would hate everything the 9 does.... so could that turn them to the side of the angels?
Fencer
Writer
- Location
- 2nd shift
- Pronouns
- He/Him
It's on my short list with 3 or 4 others but I'm already pretty shit about updating so adding more to the pile would be a bad plan, and I would have to reread girl genius to even begin on that. Frankly I think I would have to pick some sort of early endpoint and stick to it rather than let the plot keep on rolling forever the way canon has.
Just as a reminder things in this thread are open for adoption. Mostly. Few I'm gunna hold tight to. Wanna be a writer? Do ya? Do ya? Do ya?
Fencer
Writer
- Location
- 2nd shift
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Bought chronicles of the black company as audio books to keep me entertained at work….. now my muse is nibbling at the thought of rewriting an old work of mine or alternately going in reverse and putting Taylor through something nasty enough for a second trigger. Both scenarios are morbidly tempting even as I debate setting my muse on fire for this bullshit
- Pronouns
- He/Him
What would a second trigger for Taylor even end like? She's already stupidly powerful, maybe she gets a breaker power (think Bumblebee from Nemesis, but only into/out of her human form), or maybe just a much more massive range? City-scale Skitter is a terrifying thought.
Fencer
Writer
- Location
- 2nd shift
- Pronouns
- He/Him
The basics of the idea would be to send Taylor to the universe in question. The part that's bad enough to count as a second trigger? The very nasty style of magical Mastering unique to that setting. VERY VERY VERY NASTY…..
There are less extreme methods of mastering in that setting but the one I'm imagining takes even bitter enemies and makes them into devoted minions who retain all their skill with free will aside from where the Master is concerned.
Worm x Chronicles of the Black Company
Fencer
Writer
- Location
- 2nd shift
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Playing around with crossovers for two of my all time favorite series. Honestly, I started with the premise of crazy wizards try to summon powers from beyond their world and grab onto shards which ends up bringing the capes attached to the shard. Picked a moment I liked and ran with it. But the farther along I got the more I realized I was forcing it to work. It's plausible, but it feels unwieldy. It seemed fine when I thought about it in vague details, but the more I wrote, the more I slipped into character… I don't know anymore. Still, I wrote it, and I have a snippet thread for a reason so here we go.
As always, thank Functionality for betaing my random ass snippets from nowhere I keep telling him he doesn't need to but he keeps agreeing anyway..
The Chronicles of the Black Company x Worm
An excerpt from the annals of the black company; the book of Croaker
In days past the rebel circle of eighteen commanded by right of sorcerous power, but that didn't mean they were the rebel's only sorcerers. Just that they were some combination of the strongest, best tacticians, and most connected. Most just laid claim to the first of those three qualifications, but after years of fighting all were at least passable commanders. It also didn't mean the rest of the rebel sorcerers were happy with that state of affairs.
The rebel was only slightly less prone to infighting, politicking and backstabbing then the Taken are, a low bar to be sure.
For that alone hearing that a group had tried to prove their chops and move up was hardly surprising. The fact it went horribly wrong and blew up in their faces was amusing and a little odd. Wizards are as a rule a paranoid and cautious lot, overreaching like that only occurred when their egos outgrew their paranoia. Not common, but not unheard of either. Often those are the stories that end with the greatest amount of collateral damage. The Lady and her sorcerous enforcers, the Ten who were Taken, being freed is a prime example. They had been buried for generations, until one man ambitious enough to go looking for lost knowledge made the mistake of failing to properly chain Lady to his will. That had seen the rise of Lady's Empire and all the suffering which came with it. An Empire which should continue to function on inertia even though Lady's sorcerous power is now gone and she is abandoning her role in it.
But I digress; in that case the rebel had tried some sort of summoning with the intent of sicking their conjured evil on the Lady's forces. According to the rumors they succeeded, and wherever they pulled from decided to throw a dozen extras after the first.
Rumors claimed some nasty big monster poured out first and spat out twisted humans that blasted away with a whole host of magical mayhem. That caught everyone so off guard they failed to bind the damn thing and it went on a killing spree that threw the whole rebel line into chaos. Then while everyone was busy, a host of strangeness followed in the first monster's wake. And all the conjured nasties took to fighting one another and anyone that took a swing at them.
The Hanged Man and Stormcaller, two of the Taken, sat back and let chaos reign for a time before stepping in to mop up the rebels and put down the conjured nasties. Only to find a good chunk of the crazies were human, speaking languages unknown, and all slinging their own brand of magic.
The Taken being none too subtle, and even less polite, decided to draft the survivors for the Lady.
The resulting fight wrecked Stormcaller's flying carpet, cost the Hanged Man a foot, and caused the death of all but one of the summoned sorcerers. The lone survivor was a girl, supposedly in her mid teens. Poor kid was shipped to the Lady that very night.
Would that I had recorded more details when the incident was fresh in my mind and the rumors less distorted. But the incident occurred on a different front, and meant little and less to us at the time. Then it faded into memory and we forgot. Forgot and heard nothing more of it right until the battle at Charm. After the dead had piled up, and the flies were given free rein to multiply in the freshly deceased. When the first line of our defense was set to break, everything that crawled or buzzed rose up in a wave and started trying to drown the rebels with their bodies. Only lasted as long as it took some of the surviving Circle to whip up a spell to kill the lot dead, but it had bought us an hour.
Only at the time we assumed it was one of the Taken playing a new trick. No one made the connection. Not until a year later when rumors of the Lady's knife in the dark started to spread. That was the first any of us heard the name Skitter. But it wasn't the last. Not by a long shot. That girl got around, and wherever she went the rebel died. Sometimes it was precise, all the leaders died before Lady's troops swarmed in to scoop up the spearman. Other times a town would wake up and every rebel in the city or town was dead. Killed by venom, or drowned in bugs, or strung up to hang on cords of spider silk.
And every time, without fail, no one managed to get so much as a glimpse of the girl.
One girl all on her lonesome outdoing us at our own game. Damn but if it didn't sting at first, and once we'd grown used to being outdone? Damn me but we wanted to buy the girl drinks until she told us how the hell she managed it. One Eye and Goblin were particularly vocal on both counts. The pride of our tame wizards is easily pricked, and their curiosity for a good trick to plagiarize only slightly less easily peaked.
When the Company betrayed the Lady and joined the rebel, under the command of Darling, we never saw her. Lady kept Skitter busy rooting out our eyes and ears throughout the Empire.
Neither did Skitter appear for the final battle against Lady's late and unlamented husband, the Dominator. I do remember asking Lady about that. Her response was that the young woman wouldn't make it in time and that her skills, while impressive, would be of little use.
That had been the last I'd thought of the young woman. Something which left me much chagrined when on the day of our departure from Opal a tall young woman with silky black hair, a lithe figure, and a harsh expression seemingly carved from stone stepped out of a shadow to lay a long dagger, black as pitch and clearly an object of at least some power, against Lady's neck. She wore black leather armor over gray silk clothes, and all under an unassuming gray cloak. From her person a swarm of insects rose. Hornets spread out in a wave until every man aboard was staring down at least a double handful of stingers. Spiders I recognized as being potentially lethal crawled across her arms and every manor of winged nuisance known to this part of the world swirled across the ships deck like a living cloud of malice.
Lady, for the first time since before the battle at the Barrowland, seemed afraid. Despite the not insubstantial amount of steel, we had on our side the living plague was giving us all pause.
"Skitter." Lady's voice was unsteady, and she spoke only loud enough to be heard over the swarm, and then only by those of us who were already close.
The ship's Captain and those guards Lady brought with her all had hands on steel, but blanched at the name.
"I should slit your throat and feed your corpse to the crabs." The young woman said, never taking her eyes off of Lady despite the many folks, myself included, that were sizing her up for a blade through the ribs.
"I-" Lady started to speak but fell silent as Skitter pushed the blade ever so slightly forward, dimpling, but not breaking, skin.
"You are a tyrant who, when presented with a teenage girl possessed of a unique ability, chose to bind me to your will and have me murder hundreds for the crime of rebellion when you and your nation mean nothing to me." Anger, sharp as steel, backed her every word.
"I know your nature. I know that letting you breathe is most likely a mistake someone will live to regret." The pressure of the blade eased and the flat caressed her neck as it slid forward and back an inch or so, right over the artery. "One stroke, and I'd be over the side before anyone could stop me. A day and I'd be out of the city. A week and I could disappear." She sounded wistful.
"So why aren't you?" I surprised myself by asking.
The young woman smirked and finally turned her face away from Lady to look at me.
"Because, Captain, I am known to those sorcerers that remain. None of them are as strong as even the weakest of her latest batch of Taken, never mind the original Ten, but they know of me, and my abilities do not offer me any protection against their forced control. Not if they catch me by surprise at least."
I had to ponder that one for a moment, but it seemed fairly straightforward. She was good, but if she stayed sooner or later she would become someone else's knife in the dark. After slipping free she wasn't in any hurry to be forced into service again.
"So, what is it you want from us? A trip across the sea?" I asked.
The young woman shrugged with one shoulder.
"I'm not cut out to be some farmer's wife. Politics would see me murdering idiot officials by the dozens, and I have little interest in ruling over some tiny fiefdom when I know that all it would take is someone with twice the skill or power of your pet wizards to seize whatever home I tried to make. If I stay in the Empire, someone will decide to collect and use me."
She pulled her knife away from Lady's throat. Lady took three long steps back until she was slightly behind and to my left. The swarm thinned out and backed off slightly.
"I'm very good at what I do, Captain, and those are skills I hear the Black Company values."
And if that wasn't an offer fit to leave a man tongue tied.
"It's a tempting offer." I answered. "But diminished as we are, I can't afford to have two members of the Company at each other's throats."
Skitter slowly and pointedly turned to look at Goblin and One Eye before turning back to me with a raised eyebrow.
"Alright yeah, but they came to me like that and for all their huff and fuss they aren't prone to pulling steel on one another." I countered.
The woman shrugged.
"Captain, I'll swear not to kill her, I'll even promise not to harass her, if you'll promise I can be the one to slit her throat when she betrays you, and that I get my orders from you, not her. I won't follow her."
That was more than a fair deal, but it did leave me with a burning question.
"Why all this then? Why the threat and the show? You have to know this isn't the best first impression?"
Her eyebrow traveled up again.
"Isn't it? I just proved I can sneak aboard a fully alert military vessel, that I can take its full crew, the Company, and her guards by surprise. I'm not sure I could make myself more impressive without calling down a full swarm."
"You also proved you want to knife one of my people for revenge." I answered drily.
The woman shrugged.
"I need to get the hell out of here more than I need revenge. I need a new job and you're the only crew that needs my skill, and lacks the kind of magic it takes to force my compliance." She gestured at Lady with a knife. "Eventually she will betray you and give me my chance for revenge."
"You seem awfully willing to let go of a grudge you're willing to kill for." I said skepticism dripping off my words.
The woman's knife spun in her hand before she rammed it home into its sheath.
"Whatever she did to me, it wormed into my mind. Made me a slave to her will, blunted my ability to choose for myself." She glared at Lady. "It affected my mind. I hate that on principle, never mind having it done to me." She spat. "But even now that her spell is broken something lingers." Her eyes are black and as warm as jagged ice. "I can loath what she did, but not her. I only managed to hold a knife to her throat by focusing on the act itself instead of the one who did it. I feel lost without someone to answer to. I don't have the time to try and work through that, so I need to pick someone that won't put another spell in my brain. I think I'd need to be following orders to kill her." She looked at me. "I give it a month until she tries to betray you, six at the outside. When that happens, you give the order, and I'll drown her with flies and spiders."
Knowing Lady there was every chance Skitter was right. Without her magic she wasn't much of a threat, but Lady was bringing along a whole troop of soldiers at least to the edge of the Empire, and a wagon load of mystical trinkets besides.
"And if she never does?"
The woman blinked like she had never even considered the possibility.
"She's the Lady, she is command, and power, and betrayal. She was all those things before she went in the ground and she couldn't change when she broke loose. She won't change now. If you think she has or will, you're a fool five times over."
Looking around at the rest of the men I saw mixed reactions. Goblin nodded vigorously wanting her along, so naturally One Eye shook his head just as hard for the sake of disagreeing with Goblin. Lady naturally seemed opposed, and the rest seemed amiable if not enthused. Which left the final decision with me.
Saying yes would certainly leave me in hot water with Lady, which would be an unfortunate trend to continue, but by reputation alone Skitter was worth a spy ring and a platoon of assassins. Never mind the sort of chaos she could unleash on a battlefield if there wasn't a sorcerous heavyweight to counter her. More to the point I suspect she was even being honest, or else we wouldn't even be having this conversation.
"Welcome to the Black Company."
With a smirk the young woman nodded to me and settled herself against an out of the way wall like that was that and she hadn't just threatened murder. If she really can interact with Lady without drawing blood or acting catty to the point it disrupts the chain of command, she might actually fit in. Time will tell.
As always, thank Functionality for betaing my random ass snippets from nowhere I keep telling him he doesn't need to but he keeps agreeing anyway..
The Chronicles of the Black Company x Worm
An excerpt from the annals of the black company; the book of Croaker
In days past the rebel circle of eighteen commanded by right of sorcerous power, but that didn't mean they were the rebel's only sorcerers. Just that they were some combination of the strongest, best tacticians, and most connected. Most just laid claim to the first of those three qualifications, but after years of fighting all were at least passable commanders. It also didn't mean the rest of the rebel sorcerers were happy with that state of affairs.
The rebel was only slightly less prone to infighting, politicking and backstabbing then the Taken are, a low bar to be sure.
For that alone hearing that a group had tried to prove their chops and move up was hardly surprising. The fact it went horribly wrong and blew up in their faces was amusing and a little odd. Wizards are as a rule a paranoid and cautious lot, overreaching like that only occurred when their egos outgrew their paranoia. Not common, but not unheard of either. Often those are the stories that end with the greatest amount of collateral damage. The Lady and her sorcerous enforcers, the Ten who were Taken, being freed is a prime example. They had been buried for generations, until one man ambitious enough to go looking for lost knowledge made the mistake of failing to properly chain Lady to his will. That had seen the rise of Lady's Empire and all the suffering which came with it. An Empire which should continue to function on inertia even though Lady's sorcerous power is now gone and she is abandoning her role in it.
But I digress; in that case the rebel had tried some sort of summoning with the intent of sicking their conjured evil on the Lady's forces. According to the rumors they succeeded, and wherever they pulled from decided to throw a dozen extras after the first.
Rumors claimed some nasty big monster poured out first and spat out twisted humans that blasted away with a whole host of magical mayhem. That caught everyone so off guard they failed to bind the damn thing and it went on a killing spree that threw the whole rebel line into chaos. Then while everyone was busy, a host of strangeness followed in the first monster's wake. And all the conjured nasties took to fighting one another and anyone that took a swing at them.
The Hanged Man and Stormcaller, two of the Taken, sat back and let chaos reign for a time before stepping in to mop up the rebels and put down the conjured nasties. Only to find a good chunk of the crazies were human, speaking languages unknown, and all slinging their own brand of magic.
The Taken being none too subtle, and even less polite, decided to draft the survivors for the Lady.
The resulting fight wrecked Stormcaller's flying carpet, cost the Hanged Man a foot, and caused the death of all but one of the summoned sorcerers. The lone survivor was a girl, supposedly in her mid teens. Poor kid was shipped to the Lady that very night.
Would that I had recorded more details when the incident was fresh in my mind and the rumors less distorted. But the incident occurred on a different front, and meant little and less to us at the time. Then it faded into memory and we forgot. Forgot and heard nothing more of it right until the battle at Charm. After the dead had piled up, and the flies were given free rein to multiply in the freshly deceased. When the first line of our defense was set to break, everything that crawled or buzzed rose up in a wave and started trying to drown the rebels with their bodies. Only lasted as long as it took some of the surviving Circle to whip up a spell to kill the lot dead, but it had bought us an hour.
Only at the time we assumed it was one of the Taken playing a new trick. No one made the connection. Not until a year later when rumors of the Lady's knife in the dark started to spread. That was the first any of us heard the name Skitter. But it wasn't the last. Not by a long shot. That girl got around, and wherever she went the rebel died. Sometimes it was precise, all the leaders died before Lady's troops swarmed in to scoop up the spearman. Other times a town would wake up and every rebel in the city or town was dead. Killed by venom, or drowned in bugs, or strung up to hang on cords of spider silk.
And every time, without fail, no one managed to get so much as a glimpse of the girl.
One girl all on her lonesome outdoing us at our own game. Damn but if it didn't sting at first, and once we'd grown used to being outdone? Damn me but we wanted to buy the girl drinks until she told us how the hell she managed it. One Eye and Goblin were particularly vocal on both counts. The pride of our tame wizards is easily pricked, and their curiosity for a good trick to plagiarize only slightly less easily peaked.
When the Company betrayed the Lady and joined the rebel, under the command of Darling, we never saw her. Lady kept Skitter busy rooting out our eyes and ears throughout the Empire.
Neither did Skitter appear for the final battle against Lady's late and unlamented husband, the Dominator. I do remember asking Lady about that. Her response was that the young woman wouldn't make it in time and that her skills, while impressive, would be of little use.
That had been the last I'd thought of the young woman. Something which left me much chagrined when on the day of our departure from Opal a tall young woman with silky black hair, a lithe figure, and a harsh expression seemingly carved from stone stepped out of a shadow to lay a long dagger, black as pitch and clearly an object of at least some power, against Lady's neck. She wore black leather armor over gray silk clothes, and all under an unassuming gray cloak. From her person a swarm of insects rose. Hornets spread out in a wave until every man aboard was staring down at least a double handful of stingers. Spiders I recognized as being potentially lethal crawled across her arms and every manor of winged nuisance known to this part of the world swirled across the ships deck like a living cloud of malice.
Lady, for the first time since before the battle at the Barrowland, seemed afraid. Despite the not insubstantial amount of steel, we had on our side the living plague was giving us all pause.
"Skitter." Lady's voice was unsteady, and she spoke only loud enough to be heard over the swarm, and then only by those of us who were already close.
The ship's Captain and those guards Lady brought with her all had hands on steel, but blanched at the name.
"I should slit your throat and feed your corpse to the crabs." The young woman said, never taking her eyes off of Lady despite the many folks, myself included, that were sizing her up for a blade through the ribs.
"I-" Lady started to speak but fell silent as Skitter pushed the blade ever so slightly forward, dimpling, but not breaking, skin.
"You are a tyrant who, when presented with a teenage girl possessed of a unique ability, chose to bind me to your will and have me murder hundreds for the crime of rebellion when you and your nation mean nothing to me." Anger, sharp as steel, backed her every word.
"I know your nature. I know that letting you breathe is most likely a mistake someone will live to regret." The pressure of the blade eased and the flat caressed her neck as it slid forward and back an inch or so, right over the artery. "One stroke, and I'd be over the side before anyone could stop me. A day and I'd be out of the city. A week and I could disappear." She sounded wistful.
"So why aren't you?" I surprised myself by asking.
The young woman smirked and finally turned her face away from Lady to look at me.
"Because, Captain, I am known to those sorcerers that remain. None of them are as strong as even the weakest of her latest batch of Taken, never mind the original Ten, but they know of me, and my abilities do not offer me any protection against their forced control. Not if they catch me by surprise at least."
I had to ponder that one for a moment, but it seemed fairly straightforward. She was good, but if she stayed sooner or later she would become someone else's knife in the dark. After slipping free she wasn't in any hurry to be forced into service again.
"So, what is it you want from us? A trip across the sea?" I asked.
The young woman shrugged with one shoulder.
"I'm not cut out to be some farmer's wife. Politics would see me murdering idiot officials by the dozens, and I have little interest in ruling over some tiny fiefdom when I know that all it would take is someone with twice the skill or power of your pet wizards to seize whatever home I tried to make. If I stay in the Empire, someone will decide to collect and use me."
She pulled her knife away from Lady's throat. Lady took three long steps back until she was slightly behind and to my left. The swarm thinned out and backed off slightly.
"I'm very good at what I do, Captain, and those are skills I hear the Black Company values."
And if that wasn't an offer fit to leave a man tongue tied.
"It's a tempting offer." I answered. "But diminished as we are, I can't afford to have two members of the Company at each other's throats."
Skitter slowly and pointedly turned to look at Goblin and One Eye before turning back to me with a raised eyebrow.
"Alright yeah, but they came to me like that and for all their huff and fuss they aren't prone to pulling steel on one another." I countered.
The woman shrugged.
"Captain, I'll swear not to kill her, I'll even promise not to harass her, if you'll promise I can be the one to slit her throat when she betrays you, and that I get my orders from you, not her. I won't follow her."
That was more than a fair deal, but it did leave me with a burning question.
"Why all this then? Why the threat and the show? You have to know this isn't the best first impression?"
Her eyebrow traveled up again.
"Isn't it? I just proved I can sneak aboard a fully alert military vessel, that I can take its full crew, the Company, and her guards by surprise. I'm not sure I could make myself more impressive without calling down a full swarm."
"You also proved you want to knife one of my people for revenge." I answered drily.
The woman shrugged.
"I need to get the hell out of here more than I need revenge. I need a new job and you're the only crew that needs my skill, and lacks the kind of magic it takes to force my compliance." She gestured at Lady with a knife. "Eventually she will betray you and give me my chance for revenge."
"You seem awfully willing to let go of a grudge you're willing to kill for." I said skepticism dripping off my words.
The woman's knife spun in her hand before she rammed it home into its sheath.
"Whatever she did to me, it wormed into my mind. Made me a slave to her will, blunted my ability to choose for myself." She glared at Lady. "It affected my mind. I hate that on principle, never mind having it done to me." She spat. "But even now that her spell is broken something lingers." Her eyes are black and as warm as jagged ice. "I can loath what she did, but not her. I only managed to hold a knife to her throat by focusing on the act itself instead of the one who did it. I feel lost without someone to answer to. I don't have the time to try and work through that, so I need to pick someone that won't put another spell in my brain. I think I'd need to be following orders to kill her." She looked at me. "I give it a month until she tries to betray you, six at the outside. When that happens, you give the order, and I'll drown her with flies and spiders."
Knowing Lady there was every chance Skitter was right. Without her magic she wasn't much of a threat, but Lady was bringing along a whole troop of soldiers at least to the edge of the Empire, and a wagon load of mystical trinkets besides.
"And if she never does?"
The woman blinked like she had never even considered the possibility.
"She's the Lady, she is command, and power, and betrayal. She was all those things before she went in the ground and she couldn't change when she broke loose. She won't change now. If you think she has or will, you're a fool five times over."
Looking around at the rest of the men I saw mixed reactions. Goblin nodded vigorously wanting her along, so naturally One Eye shook his head just as hard for the sake of disagreeing with Goblin. Lady naturally seemed opposed, and the rest seemed amiable if not enthused. Which left the final decision with me.
Saying yes would certainly leave me in hot water with Lady, which would be an unfortunate trend to continue, but by reputation alone Skitter was worth a spy ring and a platoon of assassins. Never mind the sort of chaos she could unleash on a battlefield if there wasn't a sorcerous heavyweight to counter her. More to the point I suspect she was even being honest, or else we wouldn't even be having this conversation.
"Welcome to the Black Company."
With a smirk the young woman nodded to me and settled herself against an out of the way wall like that was that and she hadn't just threatened murder. If she really can interact with Lady without drawing blood or acting catty to the point it disrupts the chain of command, she might actually fit in. Time will tell.
Ghost Story
Fencer
Writer
- Location
- 2nd shift
- Pronouns
- He/Him
AN: Plot bunny would not leave me alone, but now that it's written I can safely say hell no I'm not ever pursuing this as a full fic. I just do not have the energy it would take to make this work. I just don't. Thanks as always go out to Functionality for betaing the things that crawl out of my mind.
Right, this is my… journal, or maybe word vomit repository is the better descriptor. My name, or my new name, is Gray. Yeah, it is a stupid name but so are Red, Blue, Yellow and Gold, whoever they're supposed to be, damn vague notes. I didn't pick the name, and I can't even bitch at the ones who did because they're dead.
I'm not normal.
I have, or at least had, vague washed out memories of a past life. With the exception of a few incredibly vague notes I left myself, which mostly boil down to "kill idiot criminals in stupid uniforms that refer to themselves as members of any kind of team" I have very little of that information left.
Really the only thing left is the memory of my death. Electrocuted on the job while welding in a tank no one would check till the end of the shift. Chest pain followed by blackness, followed by a distant light. Then a sudden yank that dragged me through an expanse of dark purple mist.
Growing up in an orphanage… sucked. It sucked, alright? I was too damn mature for my age most of the time and a spastic idiot when child brain overrode weird past life maturity. Got ostracized for it and immediately fell back on old habits by haunting the library and spending as much time as possible with my nose buried in books.
That turned into its own torture.
The details eluded me even then but I knew then and still know now with a soul deep frustration that my old world for all that it was generally dull and uninteresting possessed a plethora of amazing stories. This world is vast and wonderful and terrible… and the writers are a hoard of uninspired hacks so enamored with the insanity of our reality that they fail to craft anything unique or interesting.
Yes, ok, Pokémon are amazing, but every story, movie and show, everything focuses on them and because of that these hacks never really branch out to the kind of craziness I know you can get from a solid sci fi or fantasy novel. Don't even bring up superheroes because if I have to look at one more comic or manga about a flexing Machamp that punches his way to victory while wearing luchadores mask, I will commit bloody violent murder.
Which led to my hobby of writing fiction… I feel like I used to do this. Like I used to be good at it. But I've had to learn all over from scratch which is… frustrating, and the fact I have no one to show my work feels wrong. Like something important is missing. I keep at it anyway because it's the only way I'll ever see some of my favorite genres flourish even if I have to make concessions and include Pokémon. There just isn't any getting around that fact. If I don't I doubt it will sell. I just have to make sure they aren't the focus. Borderline impossible for some of my ideas, but what other choice is there? You have to make concessions for the target audience.
It also led me to reading non fiction, which, blegh, but Pokémon are interesting enough to make it worthwhile, usually.
But now at the "mature" age of fifteen it's time, get a pokeball, get kicked out of the orphanage, go try and make something of yourself by collecting a few lumps of shiny metal that say you won an exhibition fight. Passed some arbitrary skill milestone. And then either get sponsored to do more televised fights, get a job that requires a certain amount of skill as a monster tamer, find a job that requires no real skill, or cough up enough money to continue schooling.
Basically, it's all shit.
I'm pretty sure I was barely mature enough to live on my own as a grown adult. If anyone had asked old me to do that at fifteen while properly caring for six monsters that can kill me dead, I'd have died. I might still die. Oddly enough I'm sort of ok with that fact. Death isn't as scary when you know it's not the end. Pain can be. And there are fates worse than death. But I know just enough to know that there are a bunch of lunatics out there that want to poke the Legendries and that they're all backed by costume-wearing followers. There are no guarantees with shit like that, but ghosts are powerful, and lethal, and fascinating.
I think it's supposed to sort itself out. But I'm aware of this thing called the Butterfree effect so that's not a guarantee of anything. This world can be lethal to even the most prepared. The only real safety you can find is strength.
I've been working on my aura. My reincarnation left me with a predictable type alignment, it isn't very strong yet, but better than unaligned and untrained. Putting a knife on the end of a stick might not be much of a weapon but it's enough to give a human a good chance against a lot of first stage bug and normal type Pokémon. The only thing I really need still, is a Pokémon.
I know just the thing. There's a bar where the veterans from the war go when they need to vent and scream and drink to forget. The rafters of the porch are a favorite hiding place for a small group of Shuppet. They're attracted by the emotions.
They always give me curious looks when I walk past. With a little luck one will be curious enough to tag along. And I've already started work on… well information on ghost types is limited so it might not work, and I won't offer it anytime soon, not until we're real friends, but it isn't hard to make a doll and leave out the stuffing. I've got a few ideas…
Anyway, having a ghost that likes me enough to vouch for me to others, and get between me and an angry ghost is a must have if I'm going to be a ghost type specialist.
I'd start with a Misdrevous if I could, but I'd have to travel to find one. Ghastly was a tempting second choice, but the old cemetery where they live is a death trap. A vengeful Gengar moved in after the war. A Shuppet is just the easiest option. Then I can go into the forest looking for a Phantump. After that… I'll figure the rest out later. Frankly trying to raise two ghosts sounds like more than enough of a challenge to start. It would keep me plenty busy and stressed. At least until we're all settled together. Yeah, start with two to make sure I'm not going to get myself extra dead. Raise them up a bit, then go from there.
So, reiterating. Died. Reincarnate into the world of pocket monsters. Have stupidly weak super power innate to everyone that most people never bother developing, and mine is ghost flavored. Stupid backstory for this new life is dull, uninteresting, and not to be spoken of further. Plan for the future; catch two of the nicer ghost types, build bonds with them. Evolve them. Recruit more spooky specters that my two well established monster friends will defend me from if necessary. Get stronger. Write for fun, profit, and cultural revolution. Murder the ever loving fuck out of criminals in themed outfits because at best they want to separate me from my, hopefully, found family of monsters. And at worst they want to poke gods and demons and nature spirits with sticks.
It's a little vague, but I think it has promise. Man, I really hope this works.
{}{}{}{}
Standing out in front of The Thirsty Ponyta at ten am, well before the lunch crowd arrive and as bright as it'll get was mostly so I wouldn't be interrupted by traumatized vets trying to keep the 'stupid kid' away from the ghosts they were perfectly happy to ignore… or maybe having ghost aligned aura just let me see the damn things and no one else even knew that they lived here? I… huh, I'd never actually checked that. One more thing on the to do list I suppose.
Off topic. It's not dark out which might save me if they take offense and attack as a swarm. But no one is here right now to chase me off before I can try. It's now or never.
Deep breath, three steps forward, look up. Eight sets of eyes blinked down at me.
"Hi." Great start Gray, keep it going. "I'm going to start my journey soon. I'm… you can feel it right? That I've got a bit of ghost in me, my aura I mean?"
The Shuppet didn't answer but they drifted a little lower.
"I used to remember my past life, not all of it but bits, and I left some notes when I realized I was starting to forget. Mostly those boil down to "be paranoid because criminals in color coded outfits want to poke the Legendary Pokémon with sticks," the eyes widened and some drifted closer or farther away, "and the ones who don't are happy to steal people's Pokémon, break up teams, families."
Now there was a divide: four of the little puppet Pokémon hovered in front of me and the others stuck to the rafters like the only port safe from a storm.
"I'm…" Honesty, be honest, don't misrepresent or lie. They aren't faé but they're just as likely to hold a grudge. "I don't really care about being the world's greatest trainer, I don't want a job running a gym, or working for the league, or being part of the elite four. I want to write stories. And make a few friends, and honestly, I want to learn more about ghost type Pokémon because half of everything I can find about you guys is contradictory or vague scary stories. You're fascinating." I shrugged and a couple of them puffed up in apparent pride.
"I know there are crazy people out there looking to do all kinds of harm, but I don't know names, or dates or locations not unless I stumble across some kid named Ash with a Pikachu and just follow him forever. I just know that shit might happen and if it does the only way to be safe is to be strong enough to flatten people who are at least strong enough to be gym leaders, or really weak but travel in large groups. I'm not even sure if I should go looking for that trouble once I have a strong team, or if it would be better to just hole up and hope things work out like they're meant to. But… I know death isn't the end so I'm willing to send some people off if they want to take me from my future team, or if they really are going to poke legendries. I'm hoping one of you will agree to come with me? Even if I don't have a real plan yet beyond getting stronger just in case."
The four that came low to float in front of me exchanged glances and words, shooting me looks between words.
Then two drifted back into the rafters and two stayed.
"Wait, both of you?" They bobbed up and down, nodding. "I, ok. I'd be a bit of an idiot to say no, wouldn't I?" They bobbed again, smiling brightly.
This could set me back. I only had three pokeballs. But ghost types are rare, and these two wanted to come with me. Catching a ghost type against its will is asking to get killed someday. Variety be damned, I was not going to be picky, not this early in my journey.
"Ok."
I pulled out and held up two pokeballs. The pair of Shuppet shared one last glance before headbutting the balls. Three seconds and the world's most satisfying chime later I breathed out a sigh.
"Well, that went better than expected."
Now I just need to train two ghosts, sew a pair of full sized dolls, train my own meager abilities, find more team members, write some genre redefining novels, and not die a pointless death at a young age… fuck me this is going to be so much work.
AN: Aaaaaaand that's where my motivation for this idea runs out. Yes, I had some cool ideas for shuppet evolution, and yeah the idea of someone in Pokémon who's more interested in refining the art of murder for those really really bad days sounds interesting and fucking with my own personality to the point I'd make an interesting protagonist sounds amusing. BUT, just writing this one chapter I found myself looking up all the ghost types, move lists, type advantage charts, just… no. Fuck no. I do not have the energy, or motivation, or any kind of long term plan that I would need to actually write this. Just wow I really really do not want to write a Pokémon fic. Read? absolutely! Write? Not unless I was getting paid enough to quit my job.
Right, this is my… journal, or maybe word vomit repository is the better descriptor. My name, or my new name, is Gray. Yeah, it is a stupid name but so are Red, Blue, Yellow and Gold, whoever they're supposed to be, damn vague notes. I didn't pick the name, and I can't even bitch at the ones who did because they're dead.
I'm not normal.
I have, or at least had, vague washed out memories of a past life. With the exception of a few incredibly vague notes I left myself, which mostly boil down to "kill idiot criminals in stupid uniforms that refer to themselves as members of any kind of team" I have very little of that information left.
Really the only thing left is the memory of my death. Electrocuted on the job while welding in a tank no one would check till the end of the shift. Chest pain followed by blackness, followed by a distant light. Then a sudden yank that dragged me through an expanse of dark purple mist.
Growing up in an orphanage… sucked. It sucked, alright? I was too damn mature for my age most of the time and a spastic idiot when child brain overrode weird past life maturity. Got ostracized for it and immediately fell back on old habits by haunting the library and spending as much time as possible with my nose buried in books.
That turned into its own torture.
The details eluded me even then but I knew then and still know now with a soul deep frustration that my old world for all that it was generally dull and uninteresting possessed a plethora of amazing stories. This world is vast and wonderful and terrible… and the writers are a hoard of uninspired hacks so enamored with the insanity of our reality that they fail to craft anything unique or interesting.
Yes, ok, Pokémon are amazing, but every story, movie and show, everything focuses on them and because of that these hacks never really branch out to the kind of craziness I know you can get from a solid sci fi or fantasy novel. Don't even bring up superheroes because if I have to look at one more comic or manga about a flexing Machamp that punches his way to victory while wearing luchadores mask, I will commit bloody violent murder.
Which led to my hobby of writing fiction… I feel like I used to do this. Like I used to be good at it. But I've had to learn all over from scratch which is… frustrating, and the fact I have no one to show my work feels wrong. Like something important is missing. I keep at it anyway because it's the only way I'll ever see some of my favorite genres flourish even if I have to make concessions and include Pokémon. There just isn't any getting around that fact. If I don't I doubt it will sell. I just have to make sure they aren't the focus. Borderline impossible for some of my ideas, but what other choice is there? You have to make concessions for the target audience.
It also led me to reading non fiction, which, blegh, but Pokémon are interesting enough to make it worthwhile, usually.
But now at the "mature" age of fifteen it's time, get a pokeball, get kicked out of the orphanage, go try and make something of yourself by collecting a few lumps of shiny metal that say you won an exhibition fight. Passed some arbitrary skill milestone. And then either get sponsored to do more televised fights, get a job that requires a certain amount of skill as a monster tamer, find a job that requires no real skill, or cough up enough money to continue schooling.
Basically, it's all shit.
I'm pretty sure I was barely mature enough to live on my own as a grown adult. If anyone had asked old me to do that at fifteen while properly caring for six monsters that can kill me dead, I'd have died. I might still die. Oddly enough I'm sort of ok with that fact. Death isn't as scary when you know it's not the end. Pain can be. And there are fates worse than death. But I know just enough to know that there are a bunch of lunatics out there that want to poke the Legendries and that they're all backed by costume-wearing followers. There are no guarantees with shit like that, but ghosts are powerful, and lethal, and fascinating.
I think it's supposed to sort itself out. But I'm aware of this thing called the Butterfree effect so that's not a guarantee of anything. This world can be lethal to even the most prepared. The only real safety you can find is strength.
I've been working on my aura. My reincarnation left me with a predictable type alignment, it isn't very strong yet, but better than unaligned and untrained. Putting a knife on the end of a stick might not be much of a weapon but it's enough to give a human a good chance against a lot of first stage bug and normal type Pokémon. The only thing I really need still, is a Pokémon.
I know just the thing. There's a bar where the veterans from the war go when they need to vent and scream and drink to forget. The rafters of the porch are a favorite hiding place for a small group of Shuppet. They're attracted by the emotions.
They always give me curious looks when I walk past. With a little luck one will be curious enough to tag along. And I've already started work on… well information on ghost types is limited so it might not work, and I won't offer it anytime soon, not until we're real friends, but it isn't hard to make a doll and leave out the stuffing. I've got a few ideas…
Anyway, having a ghost that likes me enough to vouch for me to others, and get between me and an angry ghost is a must have if I'm going to be a ghost type specialist.
I'd start with a Misdrevous if I could, but I'd have to travel to find one. Ghastly was a tempting second choice, but the old cemetery where they live is a death trap. A vengeful Gengar moved in after the war. A Shuppet is just the easiest option. Then I can go into the forest looking for a Phantump. After that… I'll figure the rest out later. Frankly trying to raise two ghosts sounds like more than enough of a challenge to start. It would keep me plenty busy and stressed. At least until we're all settled together. Yeah, start with two to make sure I'm not going to get myself extra dead. Raise them up a bit, then go from there.
So, reiterating. Died. Reincarnate into the world of pocket monsters. Have stupidly weak super power innate to everyone that most people never bother developing, and mine is ghost flavored. Stupid backstory for this new life is dull, uninteresting, and not to be spoken of further. Plan for the future; catch two of the nicer ghost types, build bonds with them. Evolve them. Recruit more spooky specters that my two well established monster friends will defend me from if necessary. Get stronger. Write for fun, profit, and cultural revolution. Murder the ever loving fuck out of criminals in themed outfits because at best they want to separate me from my, hopefully, found family of monsters. And at worst they want to poke gods and demons and nature spirits with sticks.
It's a little vague, but I think it has promise. Man, I really hope this works.
{}{}{}{}
Standing out in front of The Thirsty Ponyta at ten am, well before the lunch crowd arrive and as bright as it'll get was mostly so I wouldn't be interrupted by traumatized vets trying to keep the 'stupid kid' away from the ghosts they were perfectly happy to ignore… or maybe having ghost aligned aura just let me see the damn things and no one else even knew that they lived here? I… huh, I'd never actually checked that. One more thing on the to do list I suppose.
Off topic. It's not dark out which might save me if they take offense and attack as a swarm. But no one is here right now to chase me off before I can try. It's now or never.
Deep breath, three steps forward, look up. Eight sets of eyes blinked down at me.
"Hi." Great start Gray, keep it going. "I'm going to start my journey soon. I'm… you can feel it right? That I've got a bit of ghost in me, my aura I mean?"
The Shuppet didn't answer but they drifted a little lower.
"I used to remember my past life, not all of it but bits, and I left some notes when I realized I was starting to forget. Mostly those boil down to "be paranoid because criminals in color coded outfits want to poke the Legendary Pokémon with sticks," the eyes widened and some drifted closer or farther away, "and the ones who don't are happy to steal people's Pokémon, break up teams, families."
Now there was a divide: four of the little puppet Pokémon hovered in front of me and the others stuck to the rafters like the only port safe from a storm.
"I'm…" Honesty, be honest, don't misrepresent or lie. They aren't faé but they're just as likely to hold a grudge. "I don't really care about being the world's greatest trainer, I don't want a job running a gym, or working for the league, or being part of the elite four. I want to write stories. And make a few friends, and honestly, I want to learn more about ghost type Pokémon because half of everything I can find about you guys is contradictory or vague scary stories. You're fascinating." I shrugged and a couple of them puffed up in apparent pride.
"I know there are crazy people out there looking to do all kinds of harm, but I don't know names, or dates or locations not unless I stumble across some kid named Ash with a Pikachu and just follow him forever. I just know that shit might happen and if it does the only way to be safe is to be strong enough to flatten people who are at least strong enough to be gym leaders, or really weak but travel in large groups. I'm not even sure if I should go looking for that trouble once I have a strong team, or if it would be better to just hole up and hope things work out like they're meant to. But… I know death isn't the end so I'm willing to send some people off if they want to take me from my future team, or if they really are going to poke legendries. I'm hoping one of you will agree to come with me? Even if I don't have a real plan yet beyond getting stronger just in case."
The four that came low to float in front of me exchanged glances and words, shooting me looks between words.
Then two drifted back into the rafters and two stayed.
"Wait, both of you?" They bobbed up and down, nodding. "I, ok. I'd be a bit of an idiot to say no, wouldn't I?" They bobbed again, smiling brightly.
This could set me back. I only had three pokeballs. But ghost types are rare, and these two wanted to come with me. Catching a ghost type against its will is asking to get killed someday. Variety be damned, I was not going to be picky, not this early in my journey.
"Ok."
I pulled out and held up two pokeballs. The pair of Shuppet shared one last glance before headbutting the balls. Three seconds and the world's most satisfying chime later I breathed out a sigh.
"Well, that went better than expected."
Now I just need to train two ghosts, sew a pair of full sized dolls, train my own meager abilities, find more team members, write some genre redefining novels, and not die a pointless death at a young age… fuck me this is going to be so much work.
AN: Aaaaaaand that's where my motivation for this idea runs out. Yes, I had some cool ideas for shuppet evolution, and yeah the idea of someone in Pokémon who's more interested in refining the art of murder for those really really bad days sounds interesting and fucking with my own personality to the point I'd make an interesting protagonist sounds amusing. BUT, just writing this one chapter I found myself looking up all the ghost types, move lists, type advantage charts, just… no. Fuck no. I do not have the energy, or motivation, or any kind of long term plan that I would need to actually write this. Just wow I really really do not want to write a Pokémon fic. Read? absolutely! Write? Not unless I was getting paid enough to quit my job.
Fencer
Writer
- Location
- 2nd shift
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Yeah I've been on a bit of a pokemon kick lately but… wow I just don't have the motivation. I'm only really familiar with gen one and two though I played three. Every major character would need to be an OC which doable but so very nerve wracking to get right. I'd have to somehow make pokemon speech interesting which just murders all my ambition on it's own…. I'm just not up to that task.
Miho Chan
One with too many ideas
- Location
- Hummelstown
- Pronouns
- She/Her
There's three main ways to do Pokespeech well.
1: Show, don't tell. Utilize narrative to assign emotions to the way the Pokemon are talking and such, and have your character begin to get to know them well enough to properly interpret it through guesswork and pure intuition, along with the literal power of bonds. It's definitely the hardest method, but IMHO has the best payoff if you're writing a "classic" Pokemon fanfic. The Anime, for example, largely uses this method.
2: Give your MC the ability to understand Pokemon through psychic, auric, or just flat out language understanding. The most boring option in the sense that it's a "special ability", but it does let you flesh out the Pokemon into characters a lot easier. Brownie points if you make the character earn the ability to communicate like this, and reveal it at a plot relevant moment after the character has gone through some shit to get the ability.
3: Give your Pokemon Telepathy or another method to communicate with humans. For more spice, make it a single member of your team that can do this, so when they're knocked out or otherwise unavailable you revert to option 1.
Edit: Regardless, it was a really nicely done Snippet/Oneshot. You did good work.
Last edited:
Really love the The Chronicles of the Black Company x Worm crossover, it's really great and seeing Taylor through the point of view of experienced mercenaries is interesting. Really sucks that she went through more trauma but being Taylor Herbert is suffering so what can you expect?
Isiri Pudireach
Predictive text can go duck itself
Funny thing, if I ever got around to writing a Pokemon SI I would also have had them complain about the local fiction.
And as a Ghost specialist author, if you were in the Unova region you might catch the interest of Shauntal. Aka the Ghost specialist E4 whom is also an author.
And as a Ghost specialist author, if you were in the Unova region you might catch the interest of Shauntal. Aka the Ghost specialist E4 whom is also an author.
Functionality
The Scholar
- Location
- At the Library
- Pronouns
- He
Ya y'all ya ya y'all. 🤬. (╯°□°）╯︵ ┻━┻"- Location
- United States
Love the idea, but yeah, Pokemon, Digimon, and certain other sources are just massive and complex when you really dig into them unless you just game-a-fy it. Maybe try for some simpler games. Hell, a oneshot of an SI in Paper Mario could be funny. There really is not all that much fiction for the other games, let alone SI's.
I enjoyed the Pokémon one
Partly because a sucker for Pokémon and love Ghost Pokémon
Partly because a sucker for Pokémon and love Ghost Pokémon
Fencer
Writer
- Location
- 2nd shift
- Pronouns
- He/Him
My muse is insane. I categorically declair and believe I do not want to try writing a pokemon fic.
My muse: A fairy aligned trainer should forcibly befriend my mc and a bunch of other trainers who's type specialties make them outcast because they are all desperate for social connections and then fae child tries to turn friend group into fae childs harem and everything blows up.
Me: the fuck does that have to do with the idea of killing crazy terrorists and saving the world from being squashed by gods that are woken from their naps?
Muse: ….. they could help kill the terrorists?
Me: what the fucking hell is happening?!
Edit: i have an additional 3k words of Pokémon. I rolled out of bed and started typing on my phone send help, make it stop!
My muse: A fairy aligned trainer should forcibly befriend my mc and a bunch of other trainers who's type specialties make them outcast because they are all desperate for social connections and then fae child tries to turn friend group into fae childs harem and everything blows up.
Me: the fuck does that have to do with the idea of killing crazy terrorists and saving the world from being squashed by gods that are woken from their naps?
Muse: ….. they could help kill the terrorists?
Me: what the fucking hell is happening?!
Edit: i have an additional 3k words of Pokémon. I rolled out of bed and started typing on my phone send help, make it stop!
Last edited:
- Location
- Toronto, Ontario(occasionally)
Just found this thread. reading though it now.
It might be interesting to see a second chapter of this nanoha/young Justice fic.
Maybe starting in a public library, and summarizing how he got there and the conclusions he's reached from research, followed by either immediately directly approaching whichever government he decides to work with, or else maybe asking someone whether heroes have some sort of deal to keep their own casualties low and explain why they're not dying if they're not using lethal options but their enemies supposedly are.
He's also perhaps less worried about being detained by a rogue actor again than someone of his background should be in an unfamiliar situation encountering a bunch of vigilantes who are talking about taking him in.
One possible reason to prefer a public library over using a computer in their base.
Edit: possible amusing scene if he gets members of the Justice League walking in to try to interrupt his interaction with government, only for him to fail to immediately recognize the member(maybe he's facing away?) and say something about how he's gone straight to talking with Law Enforcement because he's apparently irked some bizarrely prominent group of vigilantes, otherwise he might just stay retired and teach magic, but he'd prefer membership in a powerful organization so he doesn't get caged by some rogue vigilante for another twenty years.
It might be interesting to see a second chapter of this nanoha/young Justice fic.
Maybe starting in a public library, and summarizing how he got there and the conclusions he's reached from research, followed by either immediately directly approaching whichever government he decides to work with, or else maybe asking someone whether heroes have some sort of deal to keep their own casualties low and explain why they're not dying if they're not using lethal options but their enemies supposedly are.
He's also perhaps less worried about being detained by a rogue actor again than someone of his background should be in an unfamiliar situation encountering a bunch of vigilantes who are talking about taking him in.
One possible reason to prefer a public library over using a computer in their base.
Edit: possible amusing scene if he gets members of the Justice League walking in to try to interrupt his interaction with government, only for him to fail to immediately recognize the member(maybe he's facing away?) and say something about how he's gone straight to talking with Law Enforcement because he's apparently irked some bizarrely prominent group of vigilantes, otherwise he might just stay retired and teach magic, but he'd prefer membership in a powerful organization so he doesn't get caged by some rogue vigilante for another twenty years.
Last edited:
Fencer
Writer
- Location
- 2nd shift
- Pronouns
- He/Him
The pokemon fic won't leave me alone…. I… my muse is evil and it sucks and I hate it but the pokemon fic is dogging me at work, in the car, while I eat… it would be so stupidly unconventional. I think I would legitimately skip a bunch of gym battles just give stupid summaries as a journal entry. And then have the MC dip out of the gym challenge at the 6th badge level. Just honestly would end up with a pokemon story about aura type alignments changing people, and ghost hunting/negotiating as a way to make money, and maybe derailing terrorist plots with occasional murder and the destruction of strange ancient artifacts because that shits suspicious and better safe than sorry. My muse is evil. Literally only thing stopping me right now is that I don't have a region. If I don't pick a region I can't start doing research and can't progress any farther. I even have a seriously unconventional ending which could be pulled at any time. Either get sick of the story write myself a retirement scene and then time-skip, or just a really fucked up blind side everyone ending. I don't have time for three fics juggling even two slows me down and when I tried for 3 before it went terrible but holy fuck I have ideas. I have ideas…
Last edited:
- Location
- United States
Depends on what genre of plot you want to deal with.
Kanto and Johto are Team Rocket who are standard Mafia/Yakuza crime and can be handled by normal police if they get some anonymous tips.
Hoenn has Team Magma/Aqua who are ecological terrorists/cultists. Dealing with them directly would be very difficult but if you could find the Orbs you could hand them off to the Dragon Tribe or Rayquaza at the top of his tower. Or find a deep hole with no stories and legends and dump the Orb in the bottom.
Sinnoh is Team Galactic and would either need a bunch of direct fighting or some massive luck in using your Ghost typing to meet and convince Giratina of the danger.
Unova is Team Plasma and questions about if pokemon are wild animals, pets, slaves, people, or alien species.
Kalos is Team Flare and Pokemon Nazis. Team is secret and hidden so no real grunt fights but lots of rich nobility and business owners using the system against you.
Alola is Team Skull the neighborhood hooligans and the Aether Foundation who is researching things man was not meant to know in very unsafe ways.
Galar is Sword/Shield which I never played and hasn't been the setting of and fanfiction I've read. (Side note, anyone know a good Galar fic so I can learn about the region?)
Paldea is local school gang, ancient legends, and insane scientist messing with time travel.
Functionality
The Scholar
- Location
- At the Library
- Pronouns
- He
My brother in fandom, your muse hath gone astray.
You must plead with the Nine Great Muses, and ask them to intervene with Dementia Raven Way, the Muse of Fanfiction, the muse that torments you so. You can accomplish this by summoning all of the Nine Great Muses through ancient rituals.
Calliope, the Great Muse of epic poetry, may be summoned by composing an epic poem on the struggle of a man to get out of a comfy bed in the morning.
Clio, the Great Muse of History, may be summoned by the recitation of an embarassing moment from thy childhood.
Euterpe, the Great Muse of music, may be summoned by singing The Chicken Dance.
Thalia, the Great Muse of comedy, may be summoned by telling stupid dad jokes.
Melpomene, the Great Muse of tragedy, may be summoned by re recounting an incident where you lost a tasty dessert by dropping it onto the ground.
Terpsicore, the Great Muse of dance, may be summoned by flailing your limbs around.
Erato, the Great Muse of love poerty, may be summoned by composing a romantic poem to your totally real girlfriend who lives in Canada.
Polyhymnia, the Great Muse of sacred poetry, may be summoned by creating a song lambasting Zeus, because holy shit has he done a lot of fucked up stuff.
Urania, the Great Muse of astronomy, may be summoned by gazing at the stars for exactly sixty-nine seconds.
- Location
- America
I was gonna suggest he either get drunk/high if possible or put the options on a list and roll a dice, but uhh…that whole ritual thing is an option I guess.
Fencer
Writer
- Location
- 2nd shift
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Tracking down Nintendo DS emulator. If the drive survives to the point where I actually familiarize myself with the settings I'm debating we'll see what happens. And in the mean time I'll try to push to complete some content for my existing fics. Distraction is a viable strategy.