Pokeprompts "Race" Prompt
I only managed six, but I hope you still enjoy them! I got a lot out of writing them. Twenty minutes is hard.
Song One: The Man, by The Eels
Characters: Cynthia, Lucian
Warnings: None
Cynthia bought her first car three years after achieving the Sinnoh Championship. There weren’t many roads she could actually drive it on, but there was something about pulling up to gyms for publicity events and leaving her car out in front of them that let other trainers know that she intended to be the League Champion for a very long time. Few trainers outside of the league had the money to import a car, and those who did generally relied on their Pokemon to fly or teleport them wherever they needed to go. Cynthia felt strongly, though, that Fly was a waste of an otherwise useful move slot - and she knew Garchomp would be upset if she brought in another Pokemon who could use the move.
Driving around also allowed her to interact with other trainers - without the trouble of having to battle them if they made eye contact. She wanted to be visible, not holed up in an office all day like the previous Sinnoh Champion had been, but not to exhaust her Pokemon by drilling them over and over again against poorly trained Bibarels and Skuntanks. When she cruised down the routes and past the trainers trying to make a living and dreaming of someday challenging the League, they saluted her, glad to have caught a glimpse, but didn’t see her position as something they could ever attain.
There was only one challenger who didn’t look up to her with reverence, a gangly young boy from Canalave who had beaten the Elite Four shortly before Cynthia bought the car. He was a bookworm, someone she’d seen in the library before when researching the region’s legendaries, but never someone she’d taken seriously as a trainer. After all, the boy’s Pokemon were all the same type. None of those trainers take their work seriously.
And yet, when Lucian only lost because of a lucky flinch inflicted by Garchomp’s Dragon Rush, Cynthia found herself, for the first time in three years, nervous. She invited Lucian to join the Elite Four, as by far its youngest member, and Byron didn’t mind moving back to his old gym; he thought of it as a favor, because he wanted a shorter commute so he could spend more time with his son. For the first couple of months Lucian seemed uncomfortable in his role, often hiding in the League Archives instead of preparing to face challengers, but then one day he walked into Cynthia’s office and demanded - not asked for - a rematch. Unfortunately for him, Cynthia had been training Roserade to use Shadow Ball, and the boy didn’t see it coming.
She bought the car to celebrate, and to remind herself not to get that close to losing again.
Song Two: Reverse Engineering, by Ochre
Characters: Silver/Kotone
Warnings: Drug use, sexualized situations
Kotone looked up at the plastic stars on the ceiling and folded her hands behind her head. “Silver, do you believe that Arceus actually created the entire world?”
Silver leaned back against the headboard, toes sliding along Kotone’s hip, pipe dangling from one hand. “Really? You’re really going to ask me that question? That’s, like, the most obvious thing to say.” His lips curved very slightly. “The absolutely, positively, without a doubt most - hey!” He softly batted away Kotone’s hand.
“I’m just thinking. Why would a god let itself be caught in a Master Ball? Wouldn’t that sort of defeat the whole purpose?” She coughed lightly, and then modulated her voice down as far as she could. “Oh hey guys, glad to see this world is coming along nicely. Maybe I’ll ride around in a ball provided by a teenager for a while, that sounds cool.”
Silver shrugged, lifted the pipe back up to his lips, shook his head, and then put the pipe back on the nightstand. “I dunno how gods think. Maybe that seems like a brilliant idea.” He tried to make the same voice as Kotone, but it came across sing-songy. “Oh hey I made all these creatures and make them fight each other for sport. Maybe I should get in on that, I can learn Hyper Beam just like anyone else.”
Kotone laughed. “Your Arceus voice is terrible.” She leaned over and nibbled on Silver’s thigh, and he looked down impassively. She nuzzled in close and then closed her eyes. “Seriously though, Arceus’s movepool isn’t even that good. You get more flexibility out of a Smeargle.”
“Somehow I suspect Arceus is better at the moves it can use than your average Smeargle.”
“Sure, but that’s not the point.” She bit down again, hard enough that Silver pushed her head away. “Hey! But you’re delicious.”
In the light coming in from the open window, Silver could see Kotone’s pout, and in a grandiose motion he guided her head back to his body. “Fine, fine, nibble away.” She did, biting up and down his side and making growling noises, while he took his turn to just stare up at the ceiling. He kept one hand on the side of her head, toying with her hair, pulling gently when she bit too hard.
“It’s always bothered be that you only have twenty-nine of the little glowy stars. Don’t they come in packs of thirty? Twenty of the little ones, five of the medium ones, but only four of the big ones?” Kotone answered by lifting her head up enough to bite him on the nose, and kissed him before he could object.
“The last one’s somewhere,” she said, and then sat up next to him, leaning on his shoulder. “I put it someplace special.”
“So you lost it.”
“No!”
They both leaned on each other for a minute, listening to the other’s heartbeat. Kotone looked out the window, not quite able to see the real stars, but imagining that they were there and that they were arranged just like the stars on her ceiling.
“Okay, maybe I did lose it,” she said, finally.
Song Three: Why Don't Lesbians Like Me? by The Sloppy Seconds (...why do I even have this on my computer)
Characters: Fennel, asshole!Alder, implied Fennel/Juniper
Warnings: workplace sexual harassment
“So which one of you gets to be the man, hmm?”
“Alder, fuck off.”
“No, seriously.” The Champion blocked Fennel’s path through the door, leaning against the doorframe and looking down at her. “I just want to know what’s going on there. You know, between friends.”
Fennel stood up straight and looked up at him, adjusting her glasses on her face. “It is none of your business, and if you continue to ask me about it, we will not be friends.”
He laughed, the pokeballs on his chest shaking slightly. “Wow, you’re really serious about this. You’re even making the serious face!” Fennel did not move. “It would work better if you didn’t have the flower thing in your hair. Now you just look sort of adorable.” He reached up to touch her face, and she slapped his arm away, her other hand reaching inside her jacket. He frowned, and picked a pokeball off of his chest, tossing it into the air and catching it. “You don’t want to go down that road,” he said, quietly.
“Don’t threaten me.” Fennel closed her hand around something under her coat. “Get out of my way.”
“It’s just a simple question. I don’t see why th is is such a big deal. I’m sure she’d tell me if I asked. Why do you have to be so weird about this?” He relaxed his posture a bit, but continued to block the door. “It’s just hard to imagine you, you know, wrist deep in-”
“Get out of my way. Now.”
Alder took a step forward, crowding her away from the door. “I outrank you, Fennel.” He put his finger on the button for his Pokeball. “You don’t get to tell me what to do.”
She took a step back, and then took a deep breath.
“You want to battle? Seriously? Fine, we’ll do it.” He extended his arm toward her and pushed the button on the Pokeball; at the same time, she whipped the object out of her jacket, pointed at Alder’s face, and sprayed the entire charge of Max Repel into his eyes. As he reeled, she slid between him and Bouffalant to the door, and slipped through, walking briskly down the hallway of the Pokemon League.
Alder called out from the room, still wiping tears out of his eyes: “You’re so fucking fired!” Fennel looked down at her Xtranceiver and confirmed that it was still recording. When she reached the end of the hallway and turned the corner, she allowed herself a faint smile.
Song Four: Planet Earth, by Devo
Characters: Elesa, White
Warnings: none
Elesa sat on a bench in the Battle Subway, one knee tucked up to her chest, chin on her knee, looking out at the empty tracks. When she inhaled, the stale air was heavy in her lungs, and her frown grew. She tried to ignore the mildew as she stared off into the distance, only dimly paying attention to Emolga swooping around above the tracks, running its hands along the tiled ceiling until it found the right place and, pressing inward, vanished. A few moments later, a mostly abandoned subway car arrived, and Elesa walked in casually.
Halfway down the car, a door on the opposite side of the train was open, and Elesa walked quickly to it, slipping through shortly before the doors closed. The false wall slid closed behind her, and the air was cleaner; she coughed once, and White looked down from a hammock suspended from water pipes.
“It took you long enough.” Emolga jumped off of White’s lap and glided down to rest on Elesa’s shoulder. “How are things upstairs?”
“Nothing’s changed.” Elesa walked over to a faded red armchair and sat down, brushing a bit of dust off of her jacket. “The city’s still essentially on lockdown except for the Gym, which of course I didn’t go into.”
White sat up, pulling a carrot out of her pocket and taking a bite. “Okay,” she said, between cracking chews. “So they’re still not here?”
“I didn’t say that.” Elesa frowned.
White continued chewing, the sound echoing around the former utility room.
Elesa slid a nail underneath a loose thread in the chair’s upholstery, pulling it up and watching the fabric bunch. “They won’t get anything done. We should just let them pass through.”
White took another bite of the carrot and laid back down, fold ing her arms behind her head. “I’m going to at least say hello. They have made it this far, they must be doing something right.”
Elesa turned her nail sideways, and cut the string. “You should stay here. It’s not safe.”
“Neither are you, but you don’t tell me to stay away.”
“I- fine. Do what you want.” You always do.
Song Five: Mars, The Bringer of War by Gustav Holst
Characters: Giovanni, Ghetsis
Warnings: firearms
Giovanni and Ghetsis sat across the table from each other, each with one hand on a highball glass and one hand inside his suit jacket. Giovanni moved first, pulling out an all-black Pokeball with a small red R on the trigger button. He placed it on the middle of the table, and then took a small sip of his scotch.
“One Clone Ball, on the house.”
Ghetsis nodded, and after a moment pulled out a pistol, which he slid across the table towards Giovanni. The brushed metal and the black of the Pokeball both caught the light from the chandelier, streaks of yellow reflected on them.
“The first of many, if what you’ve told me is true, Rocket.”
Giovanni cracked a slight smile as he reached out for the firearm, sliding it neatly into his jacket. “I think you’ll be pleased by the contents. My scientists and I were able to go beyond just duplicating the Pokemon - we are now able to enhance them.”
Ghetsis picked up the ball, tossed it up into the air, and then polished it against his jacket. “I like it,” he said, “but there’s something wrong. Why does the button on it say R when it should clearly say P?” He glared across the table, and Giovanni sipped his scotch calmly.
“You’ll forgive me for making the prototypes from materials we already had, I’m sure.” He put the glass down, and glared back. “I know that your concern is primarily with the quality of the product and secondarily with the product’s branding.”
Ghetsis tucked the Pokeball into a pocket and, after a moment, nodded. “To a new era, then.” He lifted his glass, downed its contents, and slammed it back onto the table.
Giovanni lifted his glass, took a small sip, and held it loosely. “Indeed.”
Song Six: Stupid Marriage, The Specials
Characters: broken Bianca/Cheren, Bianca/Amanita
Warnings: Violence, stalking
Bianca felt the sting in her hand and wondered why she’d never slapped him before. It felt good and right somehow, as if she had found her calling; perhaps she was not meant to be a Pokemon trainer, or a researcher, or anything so much as an instrument of fulfillment for lingering resentment. Cheren rubbed his face, adjusting his glasses back into position, and she just watched impassively.
Amanita tightened her nightgown and blinked, trying to make out Cheren’s figure. “Is that... Bianca? What’s going on?”
“Don’t worry.” Bianca felt the words pass through her lips and leave traces of authority on them, licking her lips to relish the flavor. “He’s just about to leave.”
“No, I-”
Bianca slapped him again, this time knocking his glasses off entirely. “He is just about to leave.” It was amazing, this feeling that she could say something and it would just happen. “Isn’t that right, Cheren.”
He raised his hand, and made a fist, but when Bianca started laughing, his hand wavered and fell. “You’re supposed to be mine,” he said quietly, and she shook her head.
“I’m supposed to be mine.” Bianca took a step forward, blocking the line of sight between him and Amanita, and he took a step back. “And you are supposed to leave my house.”
He reached behind him and grabbed the handle to the sliding door. “Fine.” He yanked the door open, shards of glass dislodging from the hole he’d made to enter and crunching into the carpet as he walked out. Once he’d gone, Bianca picked up his glasses and lifted them by one bow, shaking them off. She smiled, turned away so that Amanita couldn’t see her, and folded them up, sliding them onto the dresser.
“It’s lucky,” she said, “that it’s a wonderful night for a breeze, don’t you think?”
Song One: The Man, by The Eels
Characters: Cynthia, Lucian
Warnings: None
Cynthia bought her first car three years after achieving the Sinnoh Championship. There weren’t many roads she could actually drive it on, but there was something about pulling up to gyms for publicity events and leaving her car out in front of them that let other trainers know that she intended to be the League Champion for a very long time. Few trainers outside of the league had the money to import a car, and those who did generally relied on their Pokemon to fly or teleport them wherever they needed to go. Cynthia felt strongly, though, that Fly was a waste of an otherwise useful move slot - and she knew Garchomp would be upset if she brought in another Pokemon who could use the move.
Driving around also allowed her to interact with other trainers - without the trouble of having to battle them if they made eye contact. She wanted to be visible, not holed up in an office all day like the previous Sinnoh Champion had been, but not to exhaust her Pokemon by drilling them over and over again against poorly trained Bibarels and Skuntanks. When she cruised down the routes and past the trainers trying to make a living and dreaming of someday challenging the League, they saluted her, glad to have caught a glimpse, but didn’t see her position as something they could ever attain.
There was only one challenger who didn’t look up to her with reverence, a gangly young boy from Canalave who had beaten the Elite Four shortly before Cynthia bought the car. He was a bookworm, someone she’d seen in the library before when researching the region’s legendaries, but never someone she’d taken seriously as a trainer. After all, the boy’s Pokemon were all the same type. None of those trainers take their work seriously.
And yet, when Lucian only lost because of a lucky flinch inflicted by Garchomp’s Dragon Rush, Cynthia found herself, for the first time in three years, nervous. She invited Lucian to join the Elite Four, as by far its youngest member, and Byron didn’t mind moving back to his old gym; he thought of it as a favor, because he wanted a shorter commute so he could spend more time with his son. For the first couple of months Lucian seemed uncomfortable in his role, often hiding in the League Archives instead of preparing to face challengers, but then one day he walked into Cynthia’s office and demanded - not asked for - a rematch. Unfortunately for him, Cynthia had been training Roserade to use Shadow Ball, and the boy didn’t see it coming.
She bought the car to celebrate, and to remind herself not to get that close to losing again.
Song Two: Reverse Engineering, by Ochre
Characters: Silver/Kotone
Warnings: Drug use, sexualized situations
Kotone looked up at the plastic stars on the ceiling and folded her hands behind her head. “Silver, do you believe that Arceus actually created the entire world?”
Silver leaned back against the headboard, toes sliding along Kotone’s hip, pipe dangling from one hand. “Really? You’re really going to ask me that question? That’s, like, the most obvious thing to say.” His lips curved very slightly. “The absolutely, positively, without a doubt most - hey!” He softly batted away Kotone’s hand.
“I’m just thinking. Why would a god let itself be caught in a Master Ball? Wouldn’t that sort of defeat the whole purpose?” She coughed lightly, and then modulated her voice down as far as she could. “Oh hey guys, glad to see this world is coming along nicely. Maybe I’ll ride around in a ball provided by a teenager for a while, that sounds cool.”
Silver shrugged, lifted the pipe back up to his lips, shook his head, and then put the pipe back on the nightstand. “I dunno how gods think. Maybe that seems like a brilliant idea.” He tried to make the same voice as Kotone, but it came across sing-songy. “Oh hey I made all these creatures and make them fight each other for sport. Maybe I should get in on that, I can learn Hyper Beam just like anyone else.”
Kotone laughed. “Your Arceus voice is terrible.” She leaned over and nibbled on Silver’s thigh, and he looked down impassively. She nuzzled in close and then closed her eyes. “Seriously though, Arceus’s movepool isn’t even that good. You get more flexibility out of a Smeargle.”
“Somehow I suspect Arceus is better at the moves it can use than your average Smeargle.”
“Sure, but that’s not the point.” She bit down again, hard enough that Silver pushed her head away. “Hey! But you’re delicious.”
In the light coming in from the open window, Silver could see Kotone’s pout, and in a grandiose motion he guided her head back to his body. “Fine, fine, nibble away.” She did, biting up and down his side and making growling noises, while he took his turn to just stare up at the ceiling. He kept one hand on the side of her head, toying with her hair, pulling gently when she bit too hard.
“It’s always bothered be that you only have twenty-nine of the little glowy stars. Don’t they come in packs of thirty? Twenty of the little ones, five of the medium ones, but only four of the big ones?” Kotone answered by lifting her head up enough to bite him on the nose, and kissed him before he could object.
“The last one’s somewhere,” she said, and then sat up next to him, leaning on his shoulder. “I put it someplace special.”
“So you lost it.”
“No!”
They both leaned on each other for a minute, listening to the other’s heartbeat. Kotone looked out the window, not quite able to see the real stars, but imagining that they were there and that they were arranged just like the stars on her ceiling.
“Okay, maybe I did lose it,” she said, finally.
Song Three: Why Don't Lesbians Like Me? by The Sloppy Seconds (...why do I even have this on my computer)
Characters: Fennel, asshole!Alder, implied Fennel/Juniper
Warnings: workplace sexual harassment
“So which one of you gets to be the man, hmm?”
“Alder, fuck off.”
“No, seriously.” The Champion blocked Fennel’s path through the door, leaning against the doorframe and looking down at her. “I just want to know what’s going on there. You know, between friends.”
Fennel stood up straight and looked up at him, adjusting her glasses on her face. “It is none of your business, and if you continue to ask me about it, we will not be friends.”
He laughed, the pokeballs on his chest shaking slightly. “Wow, you’re really serious about this. You’re even making the serious face!” Fennel did not move. “It would work better if you didn’t have the flower thing in your hair. Now you just look sort of adorable.” He reached up to touch her face, and she slapped his arm away, her other hand reaching inside her jacket. He frowned, and picked a pokeball off of his chest, tossing it into the air and catching it. “You don’t want to go down that road,” he said, quietly.
“Don’t threaten me.” Fennel closed her hand around something under her coat. “Get out of my way.”
“It’s just a simple question. I don’t see why th is is such a big deal. I’m sure she’d tell me if I asked. Why do you have to be so weird about this?” He relaxed his posture a bit, but continued to block the door. “It’s just hard to imagine you, you know, wrist deep in-”
“Get out of my way. Now.”
Alder took a step forward, crowding her away from the door. “I outrank you, Fennel.” He put his finger on the button for his Pokeball. “You don’t get to tell me what to do.”
She took a step back, and then took a deep breath.
“You want to battle? Seriously? Fine, we’ll do it.” He extended his arm toward her and pushed the button on the Pokeball; at the same time, she whipped the object out of her jacket, pointed at Alder’s face, and sprayed the entire charge of Max Repel into his eyes. As he reeled, she slid between him and Bouffalant to the door, and slipped through, walking briskly down the hallway of the Pokemon League.
Alder called out from the room, still wiping tears out of his eyes: “You’re so fucking fired!” Fennel looked down at her Xtranceiver and confirmed that it was still recording. When she reached the end of the hallway and turned the corner, she allowed herself a faint smile.
Song Four: Planet Earth, by Devo
Characters: Elesa, White
Warnings: none
Elesa sat on a bench in the Battle Subway, one knee tucked up to her chest, chin on her knee, looking out at the empty tracks. When she inhaled, the stale air was heavy in her lungs, and her frown grew. She tried to ignore the mildew as she stared off into the distance, only dimly paying attention to Emolga swooping around above the tracks, running its hands along the tiled ceiling until it found the right place and, pressing inward, vanished. A few moments later, a mostly abandoned subway car arrived, and Elesa walked in casually.
Halfway down the car, a door on the opposite side of the train was open, and Elesa walked quickly to it, slipping through shortly before the doors closed. The false wall slid closed behind her, and the air was cleaner; she coughed once, and White looked down from a hammock suspended from water pipes.
“It took you long enough.” Emolga jumped off of White’s lap and glided down to rest on Elesa’s shoulder. “How are things upstairs?”
“Nothing’s changed.” Elesa walked over to a faded red armchair and sat down, brushing a bit of dust off of her jacket. “The city’s still essentially on lockdown except for the Gym, which of course I didn’t go into.”
White sat up, pulling a carrot out of her pocket and taking a bite. “Okay,” she said, between cracking chews. “So they’re still not here?”
“I didn’t say that.” Elesa frowned.
White continued chewing, the sound echoing around the former utility room.
Elesa slid a nail underneath a loose thread in the chair’s upholstery, pulling it up and watching the fabric bunch. “They won’t get anything done. We should just let them pass through.”
White took another bite of the carrot and laid back down, fold ing her arms behind her head. “I’m going to at least say hello. They have made it this far, they must be doing something right.”
Elesa turned her nail sideways, and cut the string. “You should stay here. It’s not safe.”
“Neither are you, but you don’t tell me to stay away.”
“I- fine. Do what you want.” You always do.
Song Five: Mars, The Bringer of War by Gustav Holst
Characters: Giovanni, Ghetsis
Warnings: firearms
Giovanni and Ghetsis sat across the table from each other, each with one hand on a highball glass and one hand inside his suit jacket. Giovanni moved first, pulling out an all-black Pokeball with a small red R on the trigger button. He placed it on the middle of the table, and then took a small sip of his scotch.
“One Clone Ball, on the house.”
Ghetsis nodded, and after a moment pulled out a pistol, which he slid across the table towards Giovanni. The brushed metal and the black of the Pokeball both caught the light from the chandelier, streaks of yellow reflected on them.
“The first of many, if what you’ve told me is true, Rocket.”
Giovanni cracked a slight smile as he reached out for the firearm, sliding it neatly into his jacket. “I think you’ll be pleased by the contents. My scientists and I were able to go beyond just duplicating the Pokemon - we are now able to enhance them.”
Ghetsis picked up the ball, tossed it up into the air, and then polished it against his jacket. “I like it,” he said, “but there’s something wrong. Why does the button on it say R when it should clearly say P?” He glared across the table, and Giovanni sipped his scotch calmly.
“You’ll forgive me for making the prototypes from materials we already had, I’m sure.” He put the glass down, and glared back. “I know that your concern is primarily with the quality of the product and secondarily with the product’s branding.”
Ghetsis tucked the Pokeball into a pocket and, after a moment, nodded. “To a new era, then.” He lifted his glass, downed its contents, and slammed it back onto the table.
Giovanni lifted his glass, took a small sip, and held it loosely. “Indeed.”
Song Six: Stupid Marriage, The Specials
Characters: broken Bianca/Cheren, Bianca/Amanita
Warnings: Violence, stalking
Bianca felt the sting in her hand and wondered why she’d never slapped him before. It felt good and right somehow, as if she had found her calling; perhaps she was not meant to be a Pokemon trainer, or a researcher, or anything so much as an instrument of fulfillment for lingering resentment. Cheren rubbed his face, adjusting his glasses back into position, and she just watched impassively.
Amanita tightened her nightgown and blinked, trying to make out Cheren’s figure. “Is that... Bianca? What’s going on?”
“Don’t worry.” Bianca felt the words pass through her lips and leave traces of authority on them, licking her lips to relish the flavor. “He’s just about to leave.”
“No, I-”
Bianca slapped him again, this time knocking his glasses off entirely. “He is just about to leave.” It was amazing, this feeling that she could say something and it would just happen. “Isn’t that right, Cheren.”
He raised his hand, and made a fist, but when Bianca started laughing, his hand wavered and fell. “You’re supposed to be mine,” he said quietly, and she shook her head.
“I’m supposed to be mine.” Bianca took a step forward, blocking the line of sight between him and Amanita, and he took a step back. “And you are supposed to leave my house.”
He reached behind him and grabbed the handle to the sliding door. “Fine.” He yanked the door open, shards of glass dislodging from the hole he’d made to enter and crunching into the carpet as he walked out. Once he’d gone, Bianca picked up his glasses and lifted them by one bow, shaking them off. She smiled, turned away so that Amanita couldn’t see her, and folded them up, sliding them onto the dresser.
“It’s lucky,” she said, “that it’s a wonderful night for a breeze, don’t you think?”