Project Cycle Marathon: Falkner

Toran Frostbite · Apr 19, 2009

Belatedly approved by ~~our Mistress~~ Encyclopika.

Nothing is sacred--not even Sacredshipping--when it comes to myself and Falkner. So recently I've been writing drabbles-of-a-sort (100 word limit is so bogus; I laugh at you) on my livejournal involving Falkner with scenarios and people he'd be likely, unlikely, and improbable to ever meet, all 'shipping themed. Some overt, some not really, some get implied, some are set-ups. You get the picture.

It's also now on FF.N under Little Black Dress ver Falkner. Yes, titles are dime a dozen.

The objective: write one for every possible Falkner pairing (especially if it's named)
The warnings: none (unless stated otherwise, or you know better than to click on the drabbles involving pokémon)
The rating: PG (unless stated otherwise, and they WILL be)
The pace: five posted at a time
The interest: I take requests? Especially if you've an idea to accompany it
The reason: writer's block, man. I need this like a fish needs water

Hanging on the Tablaphone : Table of Contents

Part 1 - YOU ARE HERE --- Corey // Blaziken and Empoleon // Chuck // Gardenia // Mewtwo
Part 2 - Untitled #2 --- Hoppip // Moltres // Winona // Paul // TR Tyson
Part 3 - Electric Edition --- Ashachu // Volkner // Surge // Jolteon // Zapdos

Part 4 - High-Flyer Edition --- Holly // Jaco // his father // Reggie // Jackie
Part 5 - Regional Girls Edition --- Janine // Jasmine // Flannery // Cresselia // Latias
Part 6 - "I can piss you off, too" Edition --- Gary // Kamon // Drew // Harley // Barry

Part 7 - Regional Boys Edition --- Lance // Bugsy // Wallace // Aaron // Latios
Part 8 - OTP Edition --- Morty // Ash // Whitney // Clair // Pidgeot
Part 9 - "Abby Normal" Edition --- Charizard // Honchkrow // Skarmory // Mantine // Rayquaza

Part 10 - Babysitter Edition --- Zackie // Max // Ryan // Bryan // Marnie
Part 11 - Nakama Edition --- Brock // Misty // Tracey // May // Dawn
Part 12 - Super Effective Edition --- Lorelei // Roxanne // Glacia // Roark // Candice

Part 13 - Fight Club Edition --- Bruno // Brawly // Greta // Maylene // Crasher Wake
Part 14 - HGSS Edition --- Lugia // Ho-Oh // Raikou // Entei // Suicune
Part 15 - Back to Basics Edition --- Jimmy // Marina // Jackson // Lyra // Khoury

Part 16 - Unova Request Hotline ver.Lady Edition --- Bianca // Skyla // Hilda // Elesa // Iris

Special Edition - One Piece Crossovers --- Usopp x 6 // Pell // Gan Fall // Robin // Gecko Moria

Corey
They had the same mother, they had the same father, but sometimes, they felt world's apart from each other, and it wasn't the the four year age difference to blame. Sometimes it was like strangers passing in the night, barely a word, rarely a smile, each a reminder of things they want, never considering what they would be missing in return. Because what was there to miss?

There was a simmer there, a jealousy, an envy, a wish. The same blood coursed their veins, and sometimes it would burn, wanting to hate, wanting to love, wanting to be just normal around each other. They weren't raised together, they never had that bond. All they did was live in the same house, eat at the same table, learn the same lessons, until Corey split on his tenth birthday, a Pidgey in hand and no look back.

But when he comes back, lately, Falkner is always there to greet him with a handshake, never a smile, but always a kiss under the cover of night.

Blaziken and Empoleon
"They aren't of ours."

"You've said so a thousand times."

"And you haven't listened. So I will keep telling you."

Oriole glided away-- there was no other way to ever describe the berth of her robes flowing over the ground-- leaving her son to his two alternate cases that he took the pains to raise from the egg. Sure they weren't flying-types, but they had the making of birds, which struck him with proper respect. Respect his mother mirrored, but she'd never sully her lily white hands on their down. "Too much like your father," she would say, a man she loved with her soul, because his soul was like a bird's: free on the wind. What she loathed was his free mind, always thinking outside the box of perspective.

Wren Hayabusan would have applauded Falkner's choice if he wasn't out there, being free, without contact for two years. In the meantime, Falkner polish the sleek metal of Empoleon's flippers, groomed Blaziken's talons, combed them both, and kept wishing he could take one second to enjoy a battle out of the sanction of Gym Leader regulations and truly watch them shine where they belonged: in the midst of the chaos of battle. His two kings of the sea and the mountains.

Chuck
Touch was never something he got. His mother never did, and his father wasn't around enough to make all his hugs and grabs feel normal, only special. So when his father brought him to Chuck's stead once, on a leave his mother only barely granted, Falkner was surprised at how much touch one person could stand.

Chuck was one with physical contact, as all martial artists were. Him and Wren were always touching, slaps on the back and shoulder butting, like schoolyard boys who never grew up. And every time a hand would come down on Falkner, he'd buckle under the strength of the blow with a grunt. Chuck would simply blink, then laugh that Falkner was too skinny, needed more muscle, shouldn't be delicate. The bruises he found the next morning only served to make Falkner realize Chuck was right.

Chuck never stopped, but there were obvious pains to lighten the smacks and pats, and he could feel his father laughing at him every time. And neither did the teasing: too pale, too frail, was his mother not feeding him meat? And only when Falkner finally let a slip of a smile through, did Chuck grab him in a mock choke hold and teach him what it really was to be a man (so he said).

He realized it later, when they left, after Chuck waved with a smile of triumph on his face, as his father looked more relaxed and less confined from civilized life than he'd seen in a long time. All that touch wasn't a need from any one person, an accident of vicinity that happened far too much, or a product of how one was raised, or any such ingrained nature to be some physical force.

It was because they were friends. And now maybe, Falkner was Chuck's too.

Gardenia
"Is that yours??"

She had come up silently, ambushing him from his right, obviously for him, yet was looking nowhere at him. Instead, the strange woman was looking up with blatant adoration at the thing resting, twisted into his hair, atop his head. Except there was no denying ownership under that queer gaze. "Uh, yes, yes it's mine."

"It's absolutely adorable!"

"Hoppip!" the little plant pokémon preened, pleased to oblige a compliment, and even unburied itself from his hair (he'd have to brush it again, and soon) to leap towards her. Falkner knew its game, being cute and helpless and cuddly to advocate attention, but as the woman caught it with a care that reminded him of his mother, yet had the hands of a hard worker, he didn't recall it back. Only appeared annoyed by its desertion; it did it often enough.

"Healthy color, perfectly trimmed leaves, infectious energy." She was beaming at it, then at him, like she had just found something so shiny and new to wish to have as her own. "Do you raise many grass-types?"

"Ah, no." He shook his head. "This is my only one."

She didn't seem too disappointed. "You have a knack. You'd be a good grass-type trainer, if you ever thought about it."

He never had, and it turned him off to think about being surrounded by grass-types, that didn't have what most flying-types did: the sky. But his thoughts turned to Corey and his Venusaur, Zackie and his new Weepinbell out there on the field, mock battling with Max's Ledyba, and wondered if Corey once wanted that, or if Zackie will ultimately favor the type.

"I'm a flying-type trainer," he admitted, then felt better for it.

She sighed wistfully. "Well, we can't all be perfect." And she held out her hand. "I'm Gardenia."

He took it. "Falkner."

Mewtwo
The night he first found himself sharing a rooftop with a cloak was the night with the crescent moon and cloud-cover. On the roof, minding his own business, and denying he was hiding for his own sanity. He blocked out his mind using the shinai in his hands, running through the repetitive motions of his exercises, focusing on the balance of the wood and its steadfastness in his grip.

It was the unnatural wind that jarred him from his zen-like state into honed instinct, brandishing the shinai to a ready attack stance. He barely had the spectre in his visage before the bright, blue glow blinded and surprised him, and carried the wooden sword out of his hands with a speed that rubbed his skin raw.

The shinai hovered, leaving Falkner only slightly flabbergasted.

Psychickery was nothing he'd never seen before, even in humans. Faced with it directly outside of battle was new, however. Faced with it at all wasn't something he was prepared for, either. Not from a towering ghost that was now furling its cloak to reach out and grasp the hilt of the wooden sword--

The hand wasn't human.

"A form of martial art?"

Falkner wasn't in his league anymore. His body screamed 'defense' and there wasn't one that could be used to handle everything that could be thrown at him if this was going to go south. "Yes," he said curtly.

"I see. Is it for harm?"

"There's harm in every martial art," was the general response, because it was as much a truth as it was a disclaimer.

"Do you use it for harm?"

Falkner thinned his mouth. He would use it for harm if it meant keeping another safe, as would any true practitioner. But there were people who thought if you turned your discipline on another person for whatever reason, you were automatically evil to create a situation where you would almost likely always have the upper hand. To simply say, "I use it to protect others," was no better than lying, because that was just an excuse and there were always exceptions to the rule you lived by.

The shinai was back on his side as quickly as it was taken, leaving Falkner to stare dumbly at it now as he had just a moment ago.

"I will return tomorrow."

The entire encounter lasted less than two minutes. The following encounters got predominately longer.

Toran Frostbite · Apr 21, 2009

Hoppip
None of his pokémon had ever been as frustrating as Hoppip. Bred with restraint or taught self-control and discipline, Hoppip became the first that brushed away his conduct in favor of attention and affection. It put stress on Falkner, his mind shooting back and forth between questioning his 'touch' and imagining what sort of tirade his mother would make if he returned to the Gym with not only a grass-type (never mind his entire entourage; that was a bigger can of worms), but one that wasn't as rigorously militaristic as their standards demanded.

Though when Hoppip fought under his command, regardless of its dainty style that used its qualities of playfulness to its best advantage, he sometimes believed he could flip his mother the bird when Hoppip won, or when it looked at him with devastation when he gently handed it to Nurse Joy--a venerable stranger, no matter how many times Falkner did it--or let it crowd into the crook of his neck or into the tangles of his hair... He sometimes believed he hadn't lived a trainer's life in years.

So to the wind with it all. Hoppip was best just the way it was.

Moltres
Mother had always said the body is more important than the elements it covets, so long as it can fly. No dragon lives on the grounds, no bugs, no fish. But none of the ones he envied, none of the ones he worshiped, burned with a fire that seared the soul into ash without marring the body.

He wanted to touch it, and at the same time saw his wants alone as a desecration to the glory that was a Titan. Its perfect form was bathed in the hell storm of its own making, born from the heated depths of the world (said their mythology) and emerged to rule its place in the sky. It burst through the earth with a tunneling pillar that connected the planet's heart to the atmosphere, screamed a cloud-ripping cry, and let itself ignite into a furious blaze with the oxygen. Who could dare want to sully that with human grime?

But it bent over to his level, inspecting him, so much closer to him in a single, graceful move, and it chirped. Expectant.

Falkner put a shy hand to its beak, and found it warm.

Winona
She met him when they were teenagers, still ungainly, awkward, and not Gym Leaders. Her grandmother took her to the PokéRinger competition near Olivine City the weekend she visited. Winona had spent weeks specially training her Taillow to be a champion flyer and to use its unique coloring to its advantage in sky-fights, and this was perfect.

They made it to the finals, her with her Taillow and him with his Natu. Natu weren't built for the kind of flying required, but if it made it this far....

She won, he lost, and she could tell he was trying to take it well. "Well done," he said, shaking her hand.

"You were great, too." And she smiled a little to herself at how genuinely taken aback he was, by the comment, feeling too good to think about it.

But that's when his younger brother crowded in, delightfully going on about how big brother lost to a girl and that she should marry himself so a good flying-type trainer would still be in the family.

She blushed, he blushed, and the brother continued to be evil.

Paul
Paul wasn't the first trainer who walked through his doors to challenge him who had a hard look in his eye, but it was the first time one of them--with that look--displayed anything but a ****-sure attitude and a rotten personality all round. He bowed respectfully and asked in formal language for a battle, when his entire demeanor screamed he was nothing of the sort.

Falkner could make no excuse not to battle him, if the only thing that worried him was a conflicting composition.

Paul lost by a small margin; too close for comfort, in Falkner's opinion. He recalled the exhausted Pidgeot with pride and sympathy, and tucked its 'ball away while Paul closed the distance between them. His look never changed once during the battle, never shocked, never surprised, never excited. But he said with an easy neutrality, "I'll return when I'm stronger."

Falkner awaited that day, if only to get his second chance to dissect this one. "And I'll be here."

Tyson
"I know what you like...I know what you fear."

No no no no no, don'tdon'tdon't please don't!

Fingers locked into his throat and no air Tatsumi let escape into his mouth through his own fell into his lungs. A tease, a torment, all panic-stricken laced with fear. Hayato gasped on nothing, screamed on nothing, gagged on Tatsumi's tongue. His hands were strapped down and chafing, he suffered Tatsumi's own slipping into the opening of the uwagi, and he had no strength to bite.

"Next time, boy, I will hurt you good."

Hayato woke up in his hospital bed, the lights dimly on and no noise anywhere. Panic clutched him tightly, and he tried to see into every corner of the room. All empty, but he swore he was missing one, the one Tatsumi was hiding it. His body shook, he choked and clawed briefly at his own neck, and trying his hardest not to cry, because--

He was pretty sure he could still taste the dream.

Toran Frostbite · May 23, 2009

The Electric Edition

Ashachu
They assure him this has happened before. Falkner is not convinced. They say it will wear off. Falkner is still not convinced. But nevertheless, it is ragingly obvious he cannot deny what is right in front of him: his young lover is a Pikachu. Wearing a hat.

Going out with the tiny creature on his shoulder is a hassle. Never mind his image as a bird trainer with a deeply-seeded bias against electric-types, Ash quickly grows into the habit of cuddling into his face and rubbing cheeks like an affectionate Meowth. What Falkner is convinced of is that inside that form, Ash is laughing at him for being a stingy miser of a man. Except Falkner has weaknesses, and Ash is one of them, so this Pikachu body of his will exploit that as openly as possible.

Falkner will want to have words with the boy if he returns to normal, but knows perfectly well Ash will simply plant a kiss to his lips, and that will be that.

Volkner
I look at you and always think--

Volkner glanced across the stadium. Falkner had his hawk eyes hooked on the unfolding battle, Flint fighting the Johto Elite Will. So stern, so serious, so disciplined. It was just like they said: he probably had a stick where it shouldn't be.

I look at you and always think--

Falkner was cornered by the vending machines, or so Volkner believed. "I want to battle you."

"I don't even know you."

"Wasn't that the point once?"

Now those hawk eyes were narrowed on him, and Volkner's heart skipped a little. He smiled with relish, remembering back to a time when battling wasn't about badges, but about fun. Battling Flint wasn't fun; battling with Flint was. Staring at photos, sparse magazine articles, websites, and old video footage wasn't fun; finally looking at a fire cracker, finally challenging this creature to wax the boy from his system wasn't fun either...and he only hoped the battle was.

I look at you and always think--

Falkner recognized electricity without needing to see it spark. Luxray didn't have to do a thing before Falkner was baring his teeth, fighting his hate against the type. Predictable.

But no one had predicted some of the risky moves Falkner had chosen going through his first League battle, never mind taking a hit from a Magneton's Thunderbolt to save his Pidgeotto from it. He might have lost the round and gained a Pidgeot from it, but he was currently the best top trainer to turn to if 'unbridled' was what one was asking for.

I look at you and always think--

Volkner looked down-- no, at Falkner's vibrant countenance, trying the bury the fire and shame from losing, and held out his hand. "Amazing."

Falkner eyed him skeptically, but Volkner was resolute. With no hesitance, Falkner took his hand and squeezed firmly.

I cannot touch you.

Lt. Surge
Wren had many friends in positions of power across the continent. When he wasn't home, he migrated between their residences and nowhere-but-the-open-sky-cascade, as he liked to call it. He occasionally took his son, before his mother made the push for him to succeed Wren (where in between Wren's ventures and that time, Oriole or her upper student Robin were temporary replacements).

He took his son to Vermillion City when he was seven-or-eight, riding in front of him on his Skarmory, with one protective arm wrapped around him. "Mathias!" he cried upon landing; a giant of a blond man was waiting, and Falkner's first impression of those from the Kanto East was that it had to be full of similar giants. The Raichu at his side was around Falkner's own height, huge in comparison to what Falkner was used to.

Falkner practically fit in the palm of his hand, or so he imagined; Surge had to kneel down to place a hand atop his head. "Your father likes talking about you--"

"Oh, Mathias," Wren snorted.

"He says you're growing to grow up and be the man to takes out all my partners." Raichu's long tail pounded the ground, a display of its physical power. Surge was grinning. "Will you?"

Falkner squared his jaw, like any child would when they're convictions on the line. "I'm going to be the flying trainer who beat all electric-types in the world!"

Surge barked. "I'd like to see you try, little man." Then the giant ruffled his hair and Falkner squawked with indignation, glaring up at him. Surge remained amused. "I'd love to have him under my apprenticeship, Wren."

"Of course. I'll just ask Orli if I can give away her favorite child and she'll be happy to, I think not."

"He was born under the wrong sign, then." Surge put a finger between Falkner's eyes, just shy of touching skin. Falkner crossed his eyes to see it. "Yer kid's got the wrong energy for this. Lightning and fire boil in this one's veins. You tell that to her, and see what she says."

"'Oafs don't know what they're talking about.' I guarantee it'll be something of like that. In fancier speech."

The child scowled, not from a lack of understanding what they were talking about, but from a general sense. Surge laughed and put himself to his full height again. Falkner came up to the poor man's knee. "Is everybody here as big as you," he demanded abruptly.

Wren barked. Falkner suddenly found himself a little too far off the ground, six feet or so, and set upon a rocky shoulder. "Kid," Surge said, "<I>no one</I> is as big as I am."

Falkner never had a problem with heights; he was practically born higher in the air than anyone could be. Being handled so, and not by his father, was a different experience. He marveled at the distance between his dangling feet to the ground. "Well, I am," the child said confidently. "I'm gonna be taller than you. Right, Dad?"

Wren was never more skeptical than now. "If you get taller than me, it would be a miracle."

The boy's face scrunched. Surge laughed his own. The kid was definitely, in Surge's opinion, born under the wrong sign. Fate sucked.

Jolteon
"Stop following me!"

The Jolteon stared at him nonplussed, clearly unimpressed by the human's attempt to get rid of it. "Jo'," it barked, and Falkner sullenly recognized it to mean 'no'. He grit his teeth and kept marching forward through town, the Jolteon remaining on his heels.

His mother would not accept, "It followed me home," as an excuse.

He was angry. So when some smart-alec punk challenged him in the middle of the street, some older teen who likely didn't know who he was, Falkner was ready to tear him apart with Pidgeot's claws, except Jolteon rushed to put itself between him and the challenger, its bristles spiked, sparking, and prime for a fight. He glared at it, but it looked back at him with hard, glittering black eyes, resolved to further demonstrate what as ally it would make. It wanted a trainer like no one's business, and it had to choose the one with no alliance toward its kind. Falkner huffed in annoyance and faced his opponent, with a will to obliterate and to vent his frustrations.

"Jolteon, show him exactly why this Gym Leader doesn't use anything but 'weak' flying-types!"

The Sinnoh-bred Gyarados fell like a ton of bricks to Jolteon's speed, agility, and pure vibrancy. And when it was done and the trainer running for the nearest PokéCenter, Falkner stared down the electric-type with scrutiny.

"Fine," he finally grumbled. "But don't say I didn't warn you!"

Jolteon's yip revealed its age (young, so young) and happily crowded against his leg. Falkner sighed. Mother was going to kill him.

Zapdos
He was drilled with the understanding that the three titans were creatures of majesty and might, a worldly balance kept in check by Lugia's grand presence. But the first time he saw a Zapdos, Falkner hadn't slept at all that night, his mind a-whirl with how they could worship an electric-type that screamed like a nightmare.

He went from child to teenager before he was face-to-face with another Zapdos. Now the scars on his face burned, picturing how similar it and a Fearow are. He repressed the desire to unclip his Pidgeot from his belt and prove to himself what it meant to be a god, but he didn't. The Zapdos ignored him the entire time.

He skipped into adulthood when he met a Zapdos for the third time, wounded someways north of the city. He wanted--so much--to let it suffer into death, but that was only after he had taken out his PokéGear and radioed the local Rangers and nearest Nurse Joy. It wanted up, it wanted away from humans, but Falkner drowned into the carpet of dead leaves, nuts, and grass beside its head and he did his finest to keep it calm.

It was still a god, after all.

Toran Frostbite · Jun 4, 2009

The High-Flyer Edition

Holly
She walked into the Gym with an air of personal stake. She marched in, stood center of the somewhat occupied space of the main foyer, and announced she wanted to see who was in charge.

He walked in with an air of mildly-irritated confusion. He spoke crisply, asked her what her business was, and implied she was rude.

She turned on him like a wolf. She stalked up to him, insisted she be trained under his tutelage, and implied he wasn't what she expected.

He asked what she meant.

She said he was shorter than she pictured.

He didn't like her.

She was beginning not to like him.

They fell in fine.

Mother had a heart attack.

Jaco
They met each other through Corey. Corey met Jaco in Sunyshore, and had a light bulb go off go off in his head when a supposed electric-breeder in training went starry-eyed over his Pidgeot, and accurately pinpointed all of its strengths, care, and abilities. Told him that flying-types were his first love, but a little Electrike and a couple new acquaintances helped him realize electric-types weren't as horrible as he imagined.

Corey asked bluntly if he liked guys as inoffensively as possible. Jaco was insulted and defensively said, "No." Corey sighed theatrically and said that was too bad, because he knew one that Jaco could probably connect with on that level, and maybe get said guy over his dislike of electric-types. Jaco still said, "No."

A few months and a couple one-on-one video calls Corey wasn't involved with later, Corey was escorting Jaco to Violet City, all with a figurative red bow around him.

Wren
When Falkner was younger, Daddy sometimes slipped into his room and curled up next to him on the futon. On those mornings, Falkner learned quickly that the kind of fight he and Mommy had were always over Falkner himself: Oriole accuses Wren of being a lowlife role model for their son, and Wren tries to express what he's doing by leaving the boy, and also her. Except the latter half he didn't find out until much later, when Wren's trips away drew longer and longer, and he all but stopped coming to Falkner's room.

"She hates me as much as she loves me," Wren told him honestly, when Falkner was older. "And in the end, she's always afraid I'll bring some part of Ecruteak City back with me. Or what she'd classify as being related to Ecruteak."

"Do you love her?" Falkner asked.

"Every time I look at your mother, I see the same beautiful girl I fell in the dirt in front of. I told her first thing it was 'destiny' that tripped me into her arms, and my heart always pounds when I'm around her. Even today it did."

"She was going to rip you in half."

Wren smiled wistfully. "All apart of her charms."

"Then why do you leave?"

Pause.

"I didn't leave because of her."

The kiss Wren pulled Falkner into was quick and chaster than a child's imitation of an adult, but every fiber in his brain was recognizing what the meaning behind it was and screaming for him to pull away. In reflex, Falkner jerked back, a hand flying up to protect his mouth and Heaven knew what was in his eyes.

"Look," Wren sadly said. "I just brought back something from Ecruteak."

Reggie
"I don't usually do things half-way," Reggie said in way of reason as to why he was in Violet City personally instead of sending the pokéball electronically.

Which Falkner hardly minded, though he got the impression that wasn't how transactions usually went with him. Reggie was better looking in person, anyway; no video calls captured the finesse the Sinnoh-native had in the full body.

The male Starly which Reggie came to deliver now sat regally on Falkner's bracer, its chest puffed and its countenance only just satisfied with its new ownership.

"It knows Brave Bird, Foresight, Heatwave, and FeatherDance. It's also in good condition to learn competitively. But its personality..."

"I've trained similar types before. A bird with an ego is nothing new, especially from one that's so tiny." Falkner smiled at the man. "I appreciate the extensive effort, Reggie. I still can't thank you enough."

"Hardly any trouble; a tutor I knew owed me a favor, anyway."

The Starly was recalled and notched into Falkner's belt. "Are you going to catch a nightliner back?"

"I figured I'd stay the night before heading back. It's been a while since I've been in Johto." Then his expression turned sly. "I remember you when you were younger. I battled your father for the Zephyr badge, and you were sitting on the sidelines watching us. Imagine my surprise when you of all people call me up with your request."

Internally, Falkner floundered a little in awkwardness. What did one say to that? "...You want to get some dinner?"

Reggie laughed comfortably. "I thought you'd never ask."

Jackie Walker
For the most part, Jackie had some crazy ideas, and Falkner secretly liked them. Sex in beds, sex on couches, sex in water, sex in the woods, sex in towel closets, sex in dark allies, sex in dark allies during the daytime, sex in bathroom stalls, sex on the Gym floor as close to the sky as possible.

There were only two times he didn't cave to Jackie's pestering: sex in Lugia's shrine room (Falkner was damn sure he was kidding) and sex while on Pidgeot's back (Falkner was pretty sure he was not kidding). So when Jackie asked for a ride to Olivine City to catch a Fiore-bound boat, Falkner made sure to coerce him in the aviary before they left, in a nook where their birds couldn't see, to hopefully distract his mind from jumping him in midair, and took Skarmory instead.

It worked two-thirds of the way there, until a hand slipped down his pants and a mouth latched onto the side of his throat. When they landed, Falkner had no trouble letting Jackie know what he thought of the experience: he socked him in the face.

Jackie's apologies were quick and likely honest, but Falkner was more annoyed that the blow didn't seem to phase him much, the way he didn't keep his distance.

"You'd really think I'd do something like that to Pidgeot?"

"You clearly had no problems when it was Skarmory!"

"You don't use Skarmory."

"Living creature! All the same! God, if she realized what you did--"

"I asked her if it was okay, you know."

"....What."

"While you were getting treats, I did the polite thing and got her permission."

Falkner gaped. Jackie smiled sunnily. With a splutter of how he didn't want to know and red up to his ears, he made his farewells quick. Except Falkner buckled and questioned Skarmory himself when they returned to Violet. It ended with her managing to intone if it felt good, and Falkner really didn't want to know the rest.

Falkner called Jackie that night. "You're a moron, you know."

"A moron who knows what to make a one-time deal. I got you to orgasm in open air and see it with my own eyes; what more could I ask for?"

Falkner blushed. "Shut up. ...Sorry about punching you."

"Ah, it's already starting to bruise. Solana's gonna be even more curious now. ...I did deserve it, though. Now, with that out of the way, about the shrine room--"

Falkner hung up.

shadow_shipper · Jun 4, 2009

I loved them.
Each and every one I read, and I must have read 70% of them, made me gasp in awe.

Among all of those, the VoltaicShipping one left me utterly impressed.

Short texts, just what my mind needs right now, which complement your high level of writing. They're very good

I particularly liked the FlyingShipping one as well :3

Just because I'm lazy, but how many (named) Falkner ships are out there ?

Keep it up, I'll pop up around~

Toran Frostbite · Jun 5, 2009

shadow_shipper said:
Just because I'm lazy, but how many (named) Falkner ships are out there ?

Keep it up, I'll pop up around~

Ummm, over a hundred-fifty. I stopped counting there. =3 http://bulbapedia.bulbagarden.net/wiki/User:ArcToraphim/FalknerProject *named some...well, quite a few....a lot....two-thirds of them...*

^-^ I'm glad you liked them so much! *feels all warm inside from your praise*

Toran Frostbite · Jun 7, 2009

The Regional Girls Edition

Janine
"Wait, wait, wait!"

Falkner and Corey looked back in unison. The ninja girl was hot on their heels. And a finger was soon jabbed in one's face. "I want a rematch!"

With a rumble of annoyance, Falkner gently pushed the wayward limb out from the cross-hairs of his vision. "Are you really that mad you lost?"

"I was distracted! It wasn't a fair fight."

"Those are your own consequences, then."

"Please, Falkner, give me a rematch!"

He stared at her critically. "My partners need rest, I'm due back tomorrow, and I don't linger in places if I'm saying I'll be somewhere else at a certain time. So I cannot give you a 'rematch' right now."

She looked warily hopeful. "'Right now'?"

"Find me later in Violet City, in a week or so. That is, if you're serious for other reasons than you're being a sore loser for losing to me. If you want a rematch that badly, I'm not coming to you."

Falkner spun back around and left her standing there, Corey at least taking the time to excuse the both of them politely from her company. And when they were out of her ninja-trained range...

"She's cute when she's angry," Corey said casually.

Falkner glowered.

Jasmine
In nature, steel-types kept themselves to shine in various ways: Forretress 'Spun themselves into dead leaves on the woodland floor, Steelix burrowed itself through the earth and let the dirt do the work for them, Bronzong reportedly held themselves under waterfalls, and so on.

Skarmory were a naturally unique case. They took to the skies and dove through thickened clouds, their bodies condescending with the moisture and let the freefall speed do it's work. Loop-de-loop, they went. But trainers tended to use another method.

Water, soap, and a specially developed wax that was League certified to not hinder or amplify a steel-types natural powers and weaknesses, was all a trainer needed. If they had time. And help.

Jasmine's was due, and all she needed to do to convince Falkner was smile like a gentle ray of sunshine and ask if it wasn't too much trouble. Because her Skarmory was unfortunately very large and very particular: it wasn't partial to a half-done job; it liked the full works. And that could take hours.

She was in an old shirt covered in paint stains, modest shorts, a bandanna for her hair, and sandals. He wore little more than a pair of old jeans, bare toes curling in the grass as they worked. Jasmine didn't trust him with the hose; Falkner asked who did she think he was, honestly?

She should have trusted her instincts.

Flannery
"You're like a Flound*, you know that?"

Falkner never jerked his head up fast in his life. "What?!"

Flannery's grin split her face and worked her bare feet playfully into his back. "Yer all prim and coordinated and disciplined everywhere outside this room--okay, except when yer battling, because you can get pretty scary and lose a little control--but once you come back, you always flop onto your bed, just like now. And you don't care who crawls all over you once you have."

Falkner gave her a sour look. "Present company included?"

"I'm in yer bed, rubbing yer back," she crooned. She had her back to the wall, wedged between it and Falkner's prone body. Falkner gave up looking at her and laid flat once more.

"Whatever."

Cresselia
When the creature returned in the dead of night, Falkner was ready to protect Max from her siren call once again. He left his bed, threw on a shirt, grabbed his belt, and snuck out the window of the PokéCenter for a direct confrontation; if he had gone around to the front, Max and the others would be vulnerable to her.

"You cannot have the boy."

"He burns with the psychic touch tii seek in humans."

"I will defeat you again."

"Kai was not defeated."

"You ran."

"Because you also burn."

Falkner's mind jumped to fire, and given the situation of enemies, the roulette landed first on Ho-oh, as a fire she might be implying. His hackles raised in fury and would have lashed out. Would, but couldn't, because her eyes glowed, and he could no longer move.

"You burn not in min power, but in min light, sun-drinker. You are touched by the moon's pull; you are affected by it. Lugia once had you, did zhei not?"

Memories sprang afresh from his encounter with Lugia. His god had been awesome and awe-inspiring until the moment it needed a vessel, an avatar. And what better than its own priest--

"If you will not permit shi the young-one, please allow shi you."

"At least you're asking," he growled.

"Kai asked the young-one. He said, 'Yes.'"

"You bespelled him and gave him no choice!"

"Will you be mione or not?"

"Never."

"That is too bad." She drew closer, and touched his face with a paw. He ignored the forlorn in her voice. "Kai could love to live with you, brave sun-drinker."

Latias
In the distant future, Falkner would some day get the travel bug that infected his father. When he does, he would up-root himself without notice and fly as far as he would want.

He would be older, wiser, and being pressured for heirs to the point where the elevated skies would become the fresh air he needs.

He would fly over the city of Alto Mare and admire the lore of great dragon guardians in passing, the stories he had years ago read in books.

As he is flying, he will come upon a presence that neither him nor his Pidgeot is quite sure exists. They will race across the skies above the city, or perhaps they will dance toward the blue of heaven and sea, but they will find each other.

And when she shows herself secretly to him, he will love her for her splendor and her spirit.

* = A Flound is an on-the-spot creation of a water/ground type in the form of a flounder.

Toran Frostbite · Jun 11, 2009

The "I can piss you off, too" Edition

Gary
"You're a mean one," Gary sang in amusement, "Mr. Grinch."

Falkner shook his head. "I don't care if Heaven of Perot* walked through those doors, sat down square beside me, and shoved her chest in my face. I don't dance."

"Keep drinking. We'll get you there."

They were older, these days. Gary was less considered Samuel Oak's researching grandson and more called Samuel Oak's trusted representative in places the old man couldn't travel anymore. And sometimes, when his grandfather promised he wouldn't leave Pallet Town for a week, Gary found himself just across the Tojoh Falls in Violet City, because damn if they didn't make their own local alcohol, and make it well, for that matter.

Needless to say, he ran into Falkner every so often. Before the calls forewarning his appearance in town became mandatory, and Falkner would always be there at the bar with him, rice wine for the Gym Leader and desperatinis one after another for Kanto's second favorite son. Symbiosis, Gary called it. "I need you to watch after me," he had once put it, slurring just slightly, "and you need me to keep from getting bored to an early grave."

Gary eventually yawned, and Falkner twisted his neck to read the wall clock. After midnight was generally where the line was drawn; it was almost one-thirty in the morning. "Come on, Oak. Tomorrow's another shining day."

"You can stick..." Maybe his tongue swelled or maybe his brain had a rational function, but he didn't finish that sentence. Probably because he wasn't a testy drunk. Gary did "drunk" with a carefree mellowness Falkner hadn't seen in anyone else before. He'd stare at his glass when he wasn't talking, and the world stopped existing for a while, because he wasn't depressed and he wasn't raging about how his life sucked eggs through a tube. Then he'd had an awe-inspiring thought pop into his reverie and had to tell the closest body to him all about it.

Gary barely ever got despairingly sloshed; as long as he could walk on his own two feet, Falkner considered him capable of proper motor skills with the obligatory lean-post. Though half-way down a sidewalk did Gary plant his feet and stare bemusedly into space. Falkner stepped in front of him and asked what was wrong.

The bemusement turned into a smug smile. "Heh, and you said you didn't dance."

"I don't."

"Well, the world's spinning like we are."

Kamon
Through the doors I storm in.
I asked you over the clamoring din:
Will you see a battle through?

I'd give myself up for you.

Fires roaring, people scared.
You told me I was unprepared.
I left your place not wanting to.

I'd give myself up for you.

In the darkness I grew fast,
fighting the demons of our past.
To me, dragons were nothing new.

I'd give myself up for you.

I watched you dance all in the sky.
It's a miracle you got so high.
The color made just for you is blue.

I'd give myself up for you.

Can you really touch so way up there?
Can the clouds really kiss your hair?
There's not anything that I would not do.

I'd give myself up for you.

My crimes are all so big but few.
I'm escorted by men two and two.
The champion tells me I played true.

Because I'd give myself up for you.

Drew
Contests weren't his thing, for one part. He'd rather be facing down the bratlings at the academy than take time out of his day to watch a competition that doesn't affect him or his position. But when one was scheduled to be held in his city, Falkner felt obliged to close his gym for the day, if it meant promoting one of the few competitive alternates to challenging the League...especially since Nurse Joy asked him politely if he could do so (the promoting, not the gym-closing), as well as come and watch.

That put him in civvies walking down the sidewalk to their great hall. Until he was ambushed by Johto's Contest MC, Adrian, just outside, and was hauled away to a side entrance. Lovely girl, really, but didn't have as much professional tact like her cousins and sister. Escaping her took actual tact, with wonderings if the competitors were as crazy as her, and got himself a front-row seat.

It wasn't long before someone sat in the seat beside him. "Not many Gym Leaders seem to find their way into Contest audiences," the stranger casually remarked. Falkner glanced at him: green hair, green eyes, and proud for such a young person. "They're either in them or don't bother with them."

"Are you looking for a gym battle?" he asked, because he didn't look like a Chatty Delcatty by nature. Getting to the point was only practical.

"Not really," said the boy, and flicked open his Case-of-choice. Five small ribbons sat against the soft lining.

"So you've a ticket to the Grand Festival, making your intentions now...what?"

"Just what I said: you don't find Gym Leaders in Contest audiences."

Falkner recalled Whitney once talking to him about wanting to watch a live Contest, but she never made it in time because she still got lost around the city. So she remorsefully continues to watch them on TV. He doubted any of the others held an interest, beside their only dual-Trainer, Jasmine. "So why are you here, then? You're not competition-scoping; you likely know everyone participating."

"I'm watching someone."

"Relative or girlfriend?"

The boy's eyes glittered sharply. "Friend. Who is a girl."

"She dumped you."

"For a girl in Sinnoh."

He laughed. Internally. He knew how that felt; you don't laugh at it, ever. Outside, he was sympathetic. "I'd offer you a drink, but you're what, five years too young?"

"Three. I'm thirteen."

"Then I owe you a drink in three years."

Harley
He was pretty sure he had been set up.

One dreary winter afternoon, Jasmine invited him out for tea. Tea was good, tea was soothing, tea in the proper company could make him forget his recent break-up. And tea was going fine, on the enclosed glass patio of a restaurant Jasmine liked venturing to when she was skirting the edge of Goldenrod. Until the company was crashed.

The man was obviously attractive, worked on being attractive, but wasn't attractive enough to make his mouth anything but obnoxious. He knew Jasmine, he battled Jasmine on stage, and he talked, and talked, and talked, and Jasmine humored him politely.

Then the man had turned to him. "I'm sorry. I'm so rude. Harley."

The seemless shift in the direction of the conversational focus was so abrupt, he almost didn't answer. "Falkner."

"Oh, Violet City's little pride and joy, just like my Jasmine? Forgive me for asking but I can see why Jasmine would be here, so why you?"

He had helplessly turned to her, somewhat spooked silent by the nonthreatening aggressiveness of Harley's choice manners. Recalling it later, he was pretty sure she was holding back a giggle. "Just a meeting between friends."

Then suddenly, Harley was talking to him and not talking at her. Opinions on Contests, do birds smell, was he married, do flying-types really have what it takes to overcome electricity, was he taken, did he want to battle some time, did he like ghosts (kind of), cacti (they were alright), octopi (raw?), did he want to go out sometime--

That's when Falkner noticed Jasmine had slipped away to the bar.

And Harley was all clever smiles.

Barry
"There's a troll. In my garden."

* = Perot (per-row) is my fictional island continent I put everything that happens "elsewhere". Heaven is...apparently a Gym Leader there.

Toran Frostbite · Jun 20, 2009

The Regional Boys Edition

Lance
It was only with grim acceptance that Hayato watched Wataru's little subordinates crate Kikyou's founding statue with so much care. But it didn't go amiss that Hayato was gripping the sleeves of his uwagi a little too tightly, and Wataru led him aside, away from the sight of his loss. "It's for the best."

"I've grown immune to believing so, Wataru-san." He wouldn't take his eyes off the general direction of the crate. "I don't like being intimidated into my actions."

"I've made no threats--"

"I mean Tatsumi!" Hayato hissed. "That he marches into my home to steal our treasures and forces my hand to consider moving them is unacceptable! Giving the statue to you to protect is cowardice on my part, and yet I have no choice. He will come back with more forces than we can handle and it will be lost to the Rockets."

"But Hayato, isn't it honorable to do what can be done to protect what's invaluable?"

"Don't talk to me about 'honor'. Honor is in my blood and my soul. If it had a voice, it would tell me I need to reclaim my honor by truly defeating him, now that I've been insulted, even at the cost of Lugia's idol."

Wataru eyed the shorter man with a critical gaze, Hayato's own stern eyes as piercing as the extinct hawk he was named for. "Come with me, then. Come with me, and help us guard it until they attack. Cut Tatsumi down and get your revenge."

Hayato was momentarily floored by the prospect. The idea hadn't crossed his mind; the gym and his people were always first on his mind, never willing to abandon them. "No."

"Truly?"

"Yes. I've a duty here, and duty precedes vengeance. I won't walk away from it when I've no idea how long I'll be gone."

Wataru smiled humorlessly and nodded. "You ordered up a shiner and a kick to the balls, right?"

Hayato smiled equally so. "I want him walking funny for weeks."

"I'll make sure we get away with it."

Bugsy
"I like you. I want you to be my boyfriend."

Falkner was screaming somewhere in his mind, at the same time fighting the horror from blooming on his face. The boy standing before him was serious, with all the unashamed bluntness only a child of his age could manage.

"You're eleven."

"And I'm a Gym Leader. That practically makes me an adult."

"Go ask your father what makes you an adult."

Bugsy puffed his chest up, which was almost comical. "He already said I was grown up."

Twitch. "You didn't ask him if it was all right for you to start dating older people, did you."

"Details, details! Be my boyfriend."

"I'm not dating someone half my age and half my size." There, a deterrent.

"I don't want to date. I just want you to say you'll be my boyfriend, so you can't be with anyone else, and when I'm sixteen, we can date and get married and have sex--"

That was where Falkner stopped listening and started crying instead of screaming.

Wallace
When out on the ocean, one had to compensate for the waves, the bobbing of the water that either carried or sank its victims. Out in open waters was a dangerous venture compared to the relative safety of lakes. They still had their perils, but in the larger picture, the salt water will kill you faster than the fresh water will.

Falkner was already drowning.

It was the hand at his neck, the lips on his mouth, the body over his, the thighs between his legs. It encompassed him, engulfed him, the pretty, salty blue of the oceans. Where Wallace was gentle, the rocking of the waves carried him just beneath the surface. And where he was not gentle, the crashing of the waves grabbed him around the middle and sank him faster toward the deep, deep blue of the sandy boneyard.

He was always brought back up again, with arms around his shoulders to be held close with. The fact Wallace tended to be winded from their exertions made Falkner think he wasn't the only one fighting to break the surface. That the water always claimed them both.

Aaron
They shared a certain love of preference, blind to anything else and disliking of what trumped that preference. Aaron championed the underused insects, and Falkner championed the dismissed birds. They could have gotten along: others tended to take their preferences for granted, claiming these elites as the weakest link in the chain, and then got their butts whooped with a mighty vengeance.

Except Aaron didn't like Falkner for the same reason Falkner didn't like most electric Trainers: birds trumped insects. Aaron would get all huffy and loud whenever Falkner (or any flying Trainer, really) was in the vicinity, boasting to the point where Cynthia occasionally chided him quietly but firmly.

So when Flint dragged Aaron off to one of his favorite bars, after his loss to Cynthia for the Champion's position, and was subsequently placed in the company of some nameless man with striking black eyes, imagine Aaron's shock and surprise when after one (reallysuperburninghot) kiss, his nameless stranger's hair naturally flopped over one striking black eye and Aaron was suddenly face-to-face with someone who truly did understand him.

Flint's match-making skills for the win.

Latios
Lugia's harbingers hid themselves all over the world. It was its messengers that hid themselves in plain view. The day Latios accosted Falkner some lazy, hazy summer night was one of the few times Falkner momentarily lost his composure (forced out of his zen state, as he claimed, was just his way of not saying, "I was scared witless").

Latios' invisibility fell off like a soft cloak, and Falkner—despite his recent bad brush with the tidal god—knew enough to formally respect the messenger.

"May Lord seeks your forgiveness."

Falkner locked his jaw to keep from telling the last Eon that what his "Lord" tried to do nearly killed his charges, the sleeping children at his feet, for no reason foreseeable or answered. "It won't be forgiven by me."

"Zhei said as much. Zhei begs your forgiveness."

"If this is about being its priest, it has nothing to worry about; I'll continue teaching the practices, in addition to--"

"One of your children frightens may Lord."

Falkner paused, and looked to the sleeping lumps quizzically. The twins, Ryan and Bryan, Max, and Paige. There was no way one of the bumpkins was capable of scaring a god. A Rattata may as well scare a Tyranitar. "Oh yeah?" he asked defiantly. "Which one?"

"Tii are not sure. One resonates with great psychic energies that blanket a great radius. May Lord cannot discern the one who does, but others will. Others that will flock to one of the children, harming the cosmic balance."

Falkner glared. "Get away from us. If I even think we're being tailed by one of your kind, I'll be the one harming your cosmic balance."

"Kai would not want that, but zhei needs to know which one it is. If kai cannot secretly tail you, kai will openly join you."

"No."

"Yes," he said, floating delicately around Falkner's body; enticingly or threateningly, Falkner wasn't sure. He kept his Pokéballs, and his fists, to himself. "Capture shi."

The priest's jaw dropped. "No!" he hissed.

Latios pressed the tip of its muzzle to Falkner's nose, forcing him back and down. "Kai will be at your side, whether or not you approve. Now capture shi or kai will have to be drastic. May Lord will not allow the child to roam unsupervised."

"Does Lugia not trust me?!" Falkner seethed. "It dares to think I would willingly be its vessel, and now it thinks I'm not capable of protecting these damn kids from whatever 'world-threatening' that's bound to happen? Go tell your master humans have done their fare-share of crisis-averting, and if he thinks I'll cooperate with it after what it did to me, then its going to have to learn it the hard way. We'll solve our problems on our own, thank you very much."

Latios' eyes narrowed and he spun away from the unwanting charge. "Psychic types will be naturally drawn to the child, Falkner Hayabusan. Kai am a psychic type. Kai does not intend on defying may Lord's wishes if one of your children is going to destroy us, lure zheise loyalists away with some irresistible draw when the time comes. It likely has already caused irreversible damage already, unknowingly. Kai do not want to be stolen away, so capture shi."

Falkner shook his head. "I don't want you," he said. "Like I didn't want to be a vessel. Lugia broke the rules of permission: there is no forcing of partners between humans and pokémon. Natural law demands mutuality. No human will partner with a pokémon it does not want, and no pokémon will accept a human it does not care for. And I doubt you'll ask the same of the kids if there's even the slightest chance you'll end up with the one you're so worried about. Leave."

Latios was silent while the night music played around them, filling the eerie gap Latios left with his unnerving, unreadable face.

"Kai see why may Lord likes you." And he flew off, back to his master, disappearing as suddenly as he presented himself.

Falkner sniffed and laid back down, not that he'd get anymore sleep. His night was shot, now that he had further problems to concern himself with, and more so had to keep an eye out for more agents who might do actual harm. Morty's going to laugh at me, with all this crap, he thought miserably, and wondered if he'd made a grave mistake not doing as the Eon messenger suggested.

Capturing a Latios though? His mother would make him commit ritual suicide.

But he was sort of pretty.

At this point, anyone reading might be noticing a convergence of some scenarios relating to other scenarios, two in particular that're hard to miss (for those of you not paying attention, they would be the Tyson/Lance and Cresselia/Latios drabbles). That's because they're waywardly based on plots I've got running around my brain, one old and one new.

Naturally, the rest don't run necessarily on any same track between them (yet?). But it's also hard to keep from using the same plotline. This is submission group no.7. Seven x five = thirty-five. 35 drabbles so far (I want to hit 80 before September) and omg, Cresselia and Latios are practically the same thing.

So anyone who's actually reading this and not just clicking and back-tracking...I'm willing to take themes at this point, or scene suggestions? Next group is either the OTPs or the Ringsiders (who's involved? Gotta guess).

esm8m · Jun 23, 2009

I've been reading all of these - I've liked them all, but haven't had anything intelligent to say.

If you're looking for themes, I have a couple suggestions:

Towers
Puzzle

...I don't know if you want to use them, though.

Toran Frostbite · Jun 23, 2009

^^; I've never required intelligence, or reviews. Someone could throw an idea out without saying a thing about the drabbles themselves, and I find that more satisfying than any review, because then, that means they /are/ reading. And are hopefully coming back to read them again, or each new segment, and enjoy them regardless.

=0 And hells no, you just gave me quite a few good ideas with just those two. *_* And I can totally use them~! Thank you!

Neko The Unemployed Ninja · Jun 23, 2009

Oh wow...They're so pretty~ I think you're making me like Falkner, because these drabble are so...Awesome <3. I liked Windrider, Flying, Austringer, Fatherly, Steelwing, Dawn, and Early the best. Here's to trouncing writers block!

Toran Frostbite · Jun 24, 2009

Neko The Unemployed Ninja said:
I think you're making me like Falkner

o^-^o Bestest compliment ever~

Early, Austringer, and Flying were so fun to write, yes they were. Especially Early. =3 Little egotistical brat~

Sharks Shouldn't Fly · Jun 25, 2009

I've read most of these, especially the shorter ones. When I feel more awake, I'll probably come back and read the rest. But all the ones I've read, I've liked; especially the Brazenshipping one. :3

But my question...Where's Honorshipping? D:

Regardless, keep it up! These are great! :3

Toran Frostbite · Jun 25, 2009

Sharks Shouldn't Fly said:
But my question...Where's Honorshipping? D:

XD I did wonder if someone was going to ask. It's coming, I promise. It's wouldn't be a collection without the...um...prize gem? *_^ *in her mind, anyway* I did want to hold it off until the bitter end (OTP Edition, whut), buuuut it'll be here sooner than anyone thinks~

^-^ I'm so happy you like them seo far though.

Sharks Shouldn't Fly · Jun 26, 2009

Well, I certainly can't wait! :3 Looking forward to the next five, also.

Toran Frostbite · Jul 15, 2009

The OTP Edition

Morty — "towers" by esm8m

"There are only three."

"I told you you wouldn't like it."

On the top floor of the Tin Tower, the surviving Crystal Bells were back in their respected corners, with a small podium shrine tucked in the fourth corner with the pieces of the shattered relic atop it. Falkner folded his arms inside his sleeves, and tried not to twitch too much. "Have you located any crystal fashioners?"

"Kurt Gantetsu gave me a number of artisan contacts that might be able to get us in contact with one. No guarantees."

Morty had barely looked him in the eye since they got closer to the tower, and not at all once they were inside. Even now, Morty was looking everywhere else but at Falkner, and Falkner new what it meant: self-blame. "Did Eusine do this?" he clipped, trying not to sound angry but there were just some people who didn't deserve anything but contempt.

"Well, no; the damage was done by some incompetent vagrants, but he was here at the time."

The whole story didn't take long: Ash (Falkner had been surprised, but not shocked, and stayed silent about the equal acquaintance) returned, passing through to Mahogany, Eusine's untimely arrival, the bells rang (why Falkner was here in the first place; it took two days to get it through the grepa-vine), and an appearance by Suicune. What could have been grander.

"He didn't do anything," Morty tried to justify, but it seemed even to the blond a little weak, "too rash. The boy said he'd seen Suicune entering Johto, and Eusine--"

"--flew off the rocker." Falkner thinned his lips. "So the bells ringing was only a false alarm," he said, hiding his aching disappointment.

"Yes," Morty confirmed, more obvious in his sadness. He moved to one of the walls and fingered open one of the sliding doors to the small, circulating terrace beyond. When Falkner joined him to lean over the railing, Morty was pensively looking to the escaping landscape beyond them. "I had really hoped Ash seeing Suicune had been a sign, and once the bells started ringing...." That hope was stomped on, repeatedly; it went without saying. "I don't want them to be right."

"I know." Falkner knew as well as Morty did: this partnership, though unlikely to restore the two sects—never mind bring about the return of Lugia and Ho-Oh—was pivotal in setting the groundwork for the eventual reunification of their religions. Time was a resource they did have, but couldn't spend impatiently. And in their grand scheme, the world was in the midst of an eye-blink for all the couple of years the pair have been working in this direction.

Looking at Morty's face, however, Falkner also understood something: he hadn't been there to hear the bells. Morty had. Morty had been the one to have his hope skyrocket, only to be damaged discovering the missing bells. Falkner could sympathize, but he couldn't empathize. Falkner hadn't been the one deeply injured by this.

"You know," he began quietly, settling to bring their heads together, "you still saw Suicune. And Eusine couldn't manage to catch it. I'd call that a good day."

Morty laughed under his breath and smiled, in the slight way he's known for. "I kind of wish Suicune hadn't come. I would have loved to see if Ash could defeat Eusine. It would say so much about the kid."

"He's got Suicune's blessing," Falkner agreed, and turned his head to the side just enough so their noses touched. "And maybe that's the kind of hope we need."

Ash
The fog was thick as any cloud and just as dark beneath it, the sun having barely risen on the horizon. The dawn choir was in full stride, and the chill reminded Ash why these mornings were best spent inside, in bed.

Falkner had other ideas. The fog might have made its own ominous atmosphere, but the amount of genuine smiling Falkner was doing set its own mystery. He was used to the Gym Leader being somber, angry, proud, anxious, but when he smiled with happiness, it was generally fleeting. Whatever was beyond the mist, Falkner wanted to see it. And Ash was going to be privy to its secret.

"Come on."

Ash wasn't in a position to protest, even being led by hand through the forest. Their feet crunched against the moist ground, snapping twigs and feet sinking into the frost-wet soil. But there was also the sound of water softly lapping, among it all as they deepened the trek, and be began to see the shadow of a small lake through the dismal air. It was lined with depressing trees, wilting under the bend of fog; he was sure they looked kinder in the clarity of sunlight, and amidst the roots of one dour specimen was a rock, hard and cold to the touch, and Falkner tugged him onto it.

"Out there," he pointed, toward the center, and Ash saw the flickering immediately, a faint thing if you weren't looking directly at it. Falkner dropped to sit on the boulder's gentle curve, and Ash remained standing. Because the fog bent around the flickering, the ethereal shimmering, until he knew exactly what he was looking at, walking across the surface of the water.

With long ribbons and flowing mane, with a great crest upon its head, it was an unmistakable blue wonder: Suicune had come to the area.

"Have you missed him?" Falkner teased quietly. "This is good luck, you know."

Ash didn't doubt it for a second.

Clair
"Even sticks in the mud come loose and undone."

He stared sourly at her, regretting this every step she made him take.

"You knew this would happen," she said.

"But it doesn't have to happen."

"Yes it does."

"No, it doesn't."

"I'm beginning to think you're not as innocent as you claim. Have you done this before?"

"Why would I want to involve anyone beyond my immediate family for something so intimate?"

"It's going to be a quiet affair."

"Knowing what I'm walking into, 'quiet' is not my definition of this 'affair'."

Clair smiled.

"The bigger it is, the worse it'll be," he said.

"With the way you're hesitating over the matter, I'm counting on it."

"Do I want to know why?"

"So I can ride your *** for it later."

She kissed him—she was amused that despite his mulishness, Falkner wasn't above being inaccessible; he had kissed back—and opened a door.

"Swallow it, now. It's time for you to meet my parents."

Whitney — "puzzles" by esm8m

The minute they stepped one foot into the ruins, the inkling of this venture being a bad idea flourished to full-out fact. Whitney just wouldn't be turned about though. "What's the worst that can happen?" she told him often, going deeper and deeper inside.

Falkner only had one answer and he would never say it out loud: "This is you we're talking about here." Whitney and large areas with many turns generally equaled being seriously lost. If she wasn't entirely sold on bug-types, Falkner would have gotten her a Spinarak or an Ariados long ago. It worked for the fable-hero Tesius who navigated the labyrinth of the Kenotauros, with his special Spinarak spinning him a golden thread to trace back to the entrance.*

But Whitney was Whitney; she wouldn't be dissuaded from going where she wanted to go, but she also never said no to tag-alongs. No telling where she'd turn up unescorted. At least in proper company, she might not wind up too bad off. Except...

"Whoa."

A flashlight dropped, and it slipped its beam all around the cavernous room, illuminating against the Unown glyphs and etched murals, but what it missed, and what the other flashlight was settled on, was the great stone slabs, four-by-four-missing-one, in the far wall, with a small, matching podium right before it.

"Oh, it's a puzzle!"

A sliding 15-puzzle. Falkner grabbed her shoulder before she could even touch the podium with matching tiles. "Wait, are you crazy?" They weren't even supposed to be in the Ruins of Alph, and she wanted to mess with what was inside in? But that wasn't taking inside her head; Whitney blinked owlishly at him, playacting the six year old instead of the crazy fourteen year old she somehow was.

"They say you need to solve the ruins' puzzles to get out."

She said it so blamelessly, it was hard to remember she (most of the time) really didn't know how she was gliding through life. He balked. She smiled and put her hands on the podium. "Now, this goes here, and that looks like a corner..."

They were in so much trouble.

Pidgeot
The nature of pokémon evolution was a miraculous process that no ordinary person really thought about. They believed it just happened, with time or with experience, and believe it to be a sign of improvement.

Electricity racing through the body generally wasn't considered 'an improvement'. There had been no room to shout; the enemy Magneton had already charged and unleashed the Thunderbolt attack. Instinct carried him forward, fear and panic flooding him to protect his Pidgeotto.

His opponent was playing dirty; it wasn't like Falkner had been playing strictly honorable either, but there was a line tournaments didn't allow to be crossed: if a pokémon is struggling to get back to its feet, the opponent must back off and allow nature its due course. It is not allowed to issue an attack during that time.

Pidgeotto wasn't in a stable-enough condition to withstand the attack; unconsciousness was the luckiest, and kindest, result that could happen. But Magneton was strong. There wasn't enough luck in the world--

He was screaming; he had to be. In all that noise, in all that ringing, his screams had to be somewhere among the tumult. But even through the pain, the anguish, and fright of believing he could die instead--

It stopped, days of recovery compressed into ten seconds of nerve-frying, constant lightning. He felt like he couldn't breathe, that his diaphragm paralyzed, that every muscle was suffocating him with their spasms... Falkner looked down at Pidgeotto—

—it stared back at him, covered in dirt and dust, feathers charred from earlier, but untouched by the coward's lethal tricks—

—and smiled.

"You're okay," he wanted to say. "I'm so glad." But words churned in his throat, unwilling to be coughed up. He choked and gagged, and clenched his eyes shut at the radiant light beneath him. His limbs weren't cooperating, unable to move from his on-all-fours position, until his body glided upwards into a sitting position by the softest, purest down of a growing, glowing shape.

The glow snapped away into a million points of light with the sharp unfurling of brand new wings, and Pidgeot's countenance was just as fierce as it had always been.

Except it wasn't pointed his way, this time.

This wasn't time at work, or experience, or even a need to evolve. It had been a want, a desire. The fact Pidgeot had evolved for him was heart-stopping. Watching it tear their opponents to pieces, over the roar of horror from the crowd, judge, and announcers, only made it better.

Needless to say, both Trainers were disqualified.

* - Perseus? Minotaur? Ring any bells?

I'm really gonna have to revisit Clair's. I don't like it, and through it, I realize I'm probably not doing any of the women justice. That's going to need to be fixed.

Toran Frostbite · Dec 28, 2009

The "Abby Normal" Edition

Charizard
Liza was always so accommodating when he dropped by with a pokémon or two to train. It gave the Charizard of Charicific Valley a little variety to their own training, and gave Falkner literal obstacles to overcome (the Charizard of the valley were no joke; beat them and you had virtual powerhouses under your belt).

Going there also got him in contact with wildly different battle styles that allowed for his own trainees to find what strategies suited their natural talents best. All was fine, but....

One Charizard always watched them and never took up the challenge. Always curled up on a ledge, always sleepy-looking but with one eye open, always nearby.

"He's the most docile," Liza had explained. "He's also a bit past his prime, but he's still ragingly powerful. He can still knock down most of the younger Charizard here with little effort."

And with each session, Falkner found that particular Charizard getting closer. Only recently did it park itself on a low outcrop not ten feet from where Falkner had planted himself, an area Falkner now felt incline to occupy for its vast environmental variations of mountain-shapes.

Today was no different in routine, Falkner watching his little Swablu practice Aerial Ace on a smaller, newer, brasher Charizard, and "his" Charizard watching him. Training went into the night, the flying Charizard's tail its only telltale beacon, and the glow of Swablu's attempts as Dragon Pulse the only hint they were still up there, waging war in the sky.

Falkner was two minutes away from recalling Swablu (it shouldn't be pushing itself so hard, he kept telling himself) when a torch of light appeared on his left, and a great orange head was immediately spotted to his left. Its body was only inches away from the back of Falkner's legs, and he stared down at it, not quite struck dumb, but mystified nonetheless.

They shared a moment, the old Charizard's blue eyes locked on his. But then the Charizard chuffed, fell asleep, and curled up closer to the human as if a cat. Falkner smiled down at it.

"You choose strange bedfellows."

Honchkrow
It was impressive in all the wrong places. It wasn't as if Falkner had never seen a Honchkrow before, but they weren't native creatures to the wild. And no one imported Dusk stones to simply evolve the wildlife. Except it was specially colored, and as interesting as that can be to the casual collector, there were some species with rare coloring that weren't worth it.

But it had no fear of him, and he tossed it the last of his sandwich, which it gobbled, and a few one-cent pieces, which distracted it as he wandered away. However, Falkner was only half a mile away when it found him again. It landed heavily before him, blocking his path, and fluffed its feathers for one of many reasons Falkner could figure, but fighting wasn't one of them. It threw out a wing. "Krow?"

Falkner cocked an eyebrow. If he correctly suspected why it returned, it only strengthened his reasoning why he'd never use any of the Murkrow line: they could play dirty. It was in their very nature to be deceitful, steal, and collect. "If you want more shiny things," he stated firmly, "I gave you all I have."

"Krow?" It switched wings. "Hooooooon?"

"Yes, really."

"Hon hon, honchkrow."

Falkner thinned his mouth. He let go of the strap of his rucksack and delved into his pocket. Fingers closing around the other other thing he knew he could spare, he held up the Zephyr badge. "Will this get me passage?"

The Honchkrow dropped its wing and peered at it, entranced as the sunlight filtering through the thick foliage alighted the silvery surface. Falkner smirked, and tossed into the air. In a flurry of purple plumage, the Honchkrow leaped after it, snatching it in midair and navigating through the trees like it was born on the air.

Falkner dashed off.

A week later, back in civilization, Falkner was on the Gym's roof, sweeping like it was zen. He was knocked from his clear mind-state when the tine of metal striking the asphalt rattled the atmosphere...which was impossible.

A shadow passed overhead. Falkner didn't look up. "You've got to be kidding." He looked behind himself.

The Zephyr badge twinkled innocently.

Skarmory
Skarmory had shed two large pinions and dutifully brought them to her master. She liked watching how he went about fashioning them into his boomerangs, both the ones he would attach to his pokéballs and the personal weapons that could fell small trees under his own strength.

With his back to her, he set to work with a special stone, a whet stone, that he ran along the pre-made edges that made this work easier; the pleasant scraping sound ringing from the feather's body was nostalgic for her, and she liked it when he did it. Liked making parts of her into tools instead of waste. It made her feel good (and a little more useful than his beloved Pidgeot; how wonderful was that?).

She always felt happy on these days. So happy....

As the stone was put aside, she craned her neck as silently as possible and tapped his shoulder with her beak. As he looked over his right shoulder, she leaped to the left; she'd seen children play such tricks, and it worked on grown-ups too, it seemed.

He was grinning when he looked to the left, a knowing smile. "Are you being cheeky?"

Skarmory cawed, shifting her weight from foot to foot, her wings ruffling. Send me, her body read.

He grabbed an already experience giant boomerang.

Send me up, her body read.

He hefted up over his shoulder.

Send me up to the sky!

"Fetch!"

Mantine
I may not fly through the air, but I certainly fly through the sea.
I'm not used often, but I love it when it's just master and me.
It's a secret we keep,
our trips to the deep.
So when it's only us two on the big blue, I make sure we're free.

Rayquaza
Most called Lugia a 'bird'. It was only those of Blackthorn that called Lugia a 'dragon'. Except it looked like no native dragon, but Clair kept pointing out to him only two types of creatures live in the sea: fish (by which she meant both fish and whales) and dragons. Birds do not live in the ocean, they are air creatures. But since Clair was also the sort of person to believe the likes of Kyogre was more draconic than "fish", he wondered of the merits.

But dragons were also of the air, just like birds. He once asked why the Dragon clan wasn't situated in Hoenn, where the heaviest concentration of dragons lived. The true reason, mind, not their fabled reason. She didn't tell him, tried to change the subject and move on. He didn't ask again.

But where some dragons may not be true-bred dragons (Gyarados, Charizard), and were still revered as symbols of worship, it was the undeniable ones that were objects of awe and astonishment. They were the unreadable, the indistinguishable, the uncanny. They went where they liked and damned be the one that tried to prevent it. Which is exactly what happened over the Johkan continent.

What brought the great peacekeeper across the sea was a mystery, but Lugia wouldn't have any of it. Directly connected to the ocean as Kyogre was, to the moon as Cresselia was, Lugia was a proud beast, and no legendary took kindly to being invaded by foreign pokémon. They soared across the skyscape, bringing gales and tornados in their furious wake, their attacks burning the heavens and the land below.

A direct hit with an Aeroblast brought Rayquaza plummeting to the forest behind Violet City, ironically, onto the very patch of earth Lugia gave sanctuary to. It confused the priests, watching Lugia hover impatiently and with temptation, and where Rayquaza tried to rise, they kept it down, for its own sake.

Falkner shook his head; theoretically, gods did not have faults or ever put to blame. While his mother dealt with appeasing the tidal god, Falkner was put to charge determining Rayquaza's condition.

"Someone get a hold of old man Sigmund and Leader Clair!"

The dragon cult knew far more than they did when it came to the draconic, and legendaries were fickle creatures. Rayquaza wanted up, and if it hadn't been exhausted to the point of death, there would be no way for humans to prevent its desired actions. Ropes were tossed across it (a matter of safety for all) to anchor it down on the pitiful weight of twenty-odd priests, and Falkner stalked with intention to the mouth that snapped at anything nearby.

"You're injured, mighty lord," he told it, in the flat tones of ritual appeasement, but he doubted Rayquaza would want to understand. Mostly, the giant creatures never wanted to. "Lugia won't strike you here, though it wants to, and you wish to retaliate."

Rayquaza regarded him with an angry yellow eye, opened its maw and roared at him; the breath smelled rotten. Falkner fought not to flinch.

"We can help you if you don't want to die, and as long as you stay far away from Johto, you may attack Lugia to your heart's content on full health."

"It's that too much?" whispered the priest beside him, holding in his precarious hands a decent-sized urn.

"Not if you want your country to turn into a wasteland," he told the other. Louder, he addressed the dragon further. "Please cooperate with us, Heaven's Ambassador. Our home is as sacred as yours."

Rayquaza's growls were high-pitched and fluted. But it didn't make to snap them in two as Falkner and his aide approached closer in caution. That same angry eye was upon him, open, unforgiving, and yielding. Falkner dipped his entire hand into the urn and it lifted out covered in shimmering, pale-crystal-blue sap, and let it settle at the bridge between Rayquaza's brows. With slow strokes, he coated the area lavishly, witnessing the growls begin to quiet and the angry, yellow eye begin to close.

"Go back to Lady Hayabusan," Falkner instructed, and the aide followed back the rest of the entourage returning to the Gym. The sap was dry and flaking off his hand, and dry only at the edges of Rayquaza's application, but Falkner kept petting it.

If only to tell it in sleep that someone was still at its side.

Ooo, that only took the whole 3rd and 4th quarters. 83 Happy holidays?

Toran Frostbite · Jan 4, 2010

The Babysitter Edition

NOTE: these all take place in the same storyline, the dubiously dubbed Psychic Fabric 'verse. This goes the same for the Cresselia and Latios drabbles. And like it sounds, he's with a bunch of children. No pedophilia to warn for, however.

Zackie
The boy was like a thorn in his side.

Battle me! this and I'll beat you! that, on and on, every time they crossed paths. The boy even went so far as to stalk him at the gym every chance he could manage, leaving Falkner to either cart him back to his frantic mother with his sincerest apologies, or to force him in a corner until lessons or battling were over, with a brief phone assuring his mother that the boy was fine and she could either pick him up, or Falkner could accommodate him and drop him off later.

She usually got him herself, apologizing profusely, with Zackie arguing the entire time that he wanted to stay and watch.

But today was June 1st. The boy was ten, and already owned his beloved Bellsprout and could not receive a starter (which meant: he didn't have to go to Newbark to choose one, which would have bought Falkner time). Because he woke up with a headache, knowing what today was threatening to bring him: an anvil-sized migraine named Zackie.

Drop by Zackie did, Bellsprout wobbling beside him. His face was flush, his expression determined, and his fists were clenched by his side. Falkner fought to maintain his professionalism; for all the training the boy did, for all the studies he endured, there was no way he was ready. Type-casting sucked, but Falkner knew he couldn't have owned anything but Bellsprout.

It wouldn't be a fair fight--

"Please teach me!"

Silence.

"What the hell is that?!" Falkner snapped, veins suddenly rushing to burst. "The last three years you've bothered me and hounded me and made all sorts of threats and promises, and now you're--..." He stopped to push at the bridge of his nose. "Brat."

Zackie turned even redder, body trembling with the flight response, but admirably, he held his ground. Falkner could see from just this it was something he wanted. "You're the one I want to teach and train me!" Zackie cried. "What do you think I wanted from you all that time??"

Falkner looked at him with annoyance. Somewhere trapped inside this ten year old was the seven year old who tried to pick fights with him, and swearing Bellsprout was strong enough to K.O. his beloved Pidgeot with one blow. Underneath this brand new exterior, that lay hidden. But if Zackie's exterior was bound to become his eventual interior....

Falkner closed the distance between them in six dreadful steps, and he dropped to one knee before him. "I don't have time to waste on those who won't do the work," he told him, gravely. "All our students work hard, and shed blood, sweat, and tears to master the training here. Do you want that?"

Zackie eyed him, equally mystified and looking for tricks. When he apparently found none, Zackie threw his arms around Falkner neck and hugged him in gratitude. "I'll work hard, I promise! I'll eat my vegetables, I'll brush my teeth, and I'll be strong!"

Falkner sighed silently, and patted the back of the boy's head. Is this what it's like to have kids?

"...Were you serious about the blood...?"

Max
"It's me, isn't it?"

Falkner shook his head. "We won't know for sure--"

"How can it not?!"

The priest felt respectably quiet as Max fought to hold back his tears. He didn't want to analyze his present with his past, didn't want to believe the cause of all their troubles were himself. But it had to be true; these coincidences didn't add up unless.... "Before I was licensed, when I was running around with my friends, we...we wound up Forina."

And he choked out the entire story, each encounter to the minutest detail he could scrounge up: Jirachi, both his Ralts, Deoxys, and even Shuppet to a degree. "All that psychic power that chose me!" he concluded. "Why would it if I'm not what Lugia was talking about?!"

"Affinity." In the evening, Falkner's visible eye was sharp. "Most trainers go through life with a wide variety of partners on their team. But people like Gym Leaders have what's called 'affinity' for a specific type. This doesn't have anything to do with ability though. Granted, I can't think of any examples of primarily psychic-type users who don't have a touch of ESP in them, but that's not saying they don't exist." He paused. "Max. They found you, not the other way around. Whatever Lugia fears, it's not your fault."

"But..." The silver knife flashed before his eyes in memory, aimed at him, aimed at Zackie, aimed at whoever it must that terrifies them--

"The world hasn't ended because you connected with two legendaries." The grass rustled gently under Falkner's footsteps. "If Lugia is afraid of what you can do, or what they think you will do, you have evidence to the contrary. And when it comes to any trouble you might find yourself in, it's not like you'll be alone." A hand fell on Max's head. "Right?"

Max dropped his chin, but he was pretty sure hiding his crying was impossible. Fingers curled into his hair, soothing, like his mother used to do. "C'mon, I hear your last defense crying out for their dinner. Marnie won't pacify them for one."

The boy drew in a deep, shaky breath. "Thank you...."

"It's not like I'm telling you anything you didn't already know in your heart. Your friends are your blood."

As Falkner made to pass him by, Max's hands fly out instinctually to grasp at the back of his shirt. Falkner stilled, and Max buried his face in the cloth. "Ummm," he started, "can we wait another minute?"

The pause was pregnant, but the allowance he heard was unmistakable. "Whatever you need, Max. Whatever you need."

Ryan
Ryan wildly swung his fists and plowed forward, only to be held at bay by the hand he hated. "You jerk, you loser, you pig!"

Falkner watched him dispassionately, with a revolting air of superiority, and it drove Ryan to fight harder. "You're not better than me! You're ugly, you're a freak, you're weak, you're stupid and butt-ugly and stupid! You're not my brother! You're a liar and stupid and weak and blind and dumb! You wouldn't know skill until it broke your nose! You don't have any talent, you're stupid, you cheat, and you're unfair!"

Falkner wasn't giving an inch, leaving Ryan little more than to stew in his own rage. Tears had welled, his eyes burning with the salt. They wet his face when he wasn't looking, and tried in vain to pretend they weren't there.

"Why are you trying to take Bryan away from me?!"

"You have a goal," Falkner told him, gruff and neutral. "Your brother piggybacks off it. With all the times you fight alongside each other, you're not the least bit interested in fighting against him?"

"Who wants to do that?!"

"Then come for me."

Ryan froze, glaring his heart into blackness to make up for the hate he wasn't pounding into Falkner's flesh.

"You want to be a master? A great trainer, an elite?! Then fight for it. I want your brother to replace me as the Violet Gym Leader. And when that's done, I will not fight you. Hurry and reach your dream before beating me becomes impossible. Hate me, Ryan.

"Hate me like you love me."

Bryan
"You remind me a lot of Corey."

"Is...it okay to be talking about this?"

"I can't change your relation to me any more than I can change my relation to our father. I'm telling you anyway."

"Well, um, what's he like?"

"Reckless, busy, haughty, troublesome, arrogant..."

"...."

"Those aren't anything I would call you."

"Then why did you say I remind you of him?"

"Because both of you are willing to trust me."

Marnie
She grew into the splitting image of her mother, as everyone knew she would. The old houses of Joi and Junsa--now Joy and Jenny--were known for being genetically predisposed to its female descendants. Marnie would be no different.

At sixteen, she was already a traveling nurse, with her Togetic, Altaria, and three Drifblim at her side. She didn't regret leaving home, or that Paige decided she would assist and someday replace Mama Joy in Sinnoh. This gave her all the freedom she wanted.

Except it really wasn't freedom, what it? Johto called to her like a song in the night, an irresistible beacon. This is where the North Wind herald, where some of her friends chose to remain, and were he always would be.

Visiting Falkner was easy; it was staying in his company that was difficult. Never mind he was constantly at Bryan's side, coaching him to be the next Leader, it was because....

Five years had made Bryan look like Falkner, and Falkner more like his father: sharp angles in the face and eyes. If she hadn't known either, she might have mistaken one for another, except Bryan still had his hair short and Falkner with one long bang. But that wasn't it. It was because....

"Have you," she asked tentatively, two nights after she arrived, "thought about who would bear your heirs?"

It had cropped up twice that she knew about, during their journey. And now that she was older, she could talk about it, without it sounding inappropriate or out-of-line.

"There are candidates," he said simply.

"That all?"

"Why?" he asked, with a wry grin. "You interested?"

"Maybe," she said, trying to play cool and nonchalant. "Don't know who else I'm competing against, but it's not like you can go wrong. Male, and it's perfect. A girl, and you're the father of a Joy. She'll become a nurse somewhere where one is needed...you'll be helping someone's cause either way."

"Why would you bother?"

She thinned her lips, and lifted her chin as he directed, his finger coasting up her throat and just under her mouth. Her cheeks flushed in reaction, a gentle touch that would be no more if he rejected the offer.

"Don't think I didn't notice your crush, Marnie. It's okay."

Toran Frostbite · Feb 5, 2010

The Nakama Edition

Brock
The water was winter-spring cold, the chill and the impact of slamming into it stunning him still, and the weight of his clothing dragging him down to a death he could not comprehend in that moment. Slow and steady, a retched torment of a freezing burn coursing into his chest, unbeatable. It's what happened when wars lasted into winters, two years and two winters; he thought there would be more for him...

It was the voice of the other-world girl crying his name that he woke up choking to. As it appeared, water burned leaving his lungs as much as it did entering them. She was asking him questions, and he was giving orders--

Hayato gave the not-Takeshi a blank look, watching his hair drip, noting how the girl's hadn't.

"We're on the other side of the lake," not-Takeshi explained, and he felt his head shift not by his own volition. He thought he felt fingers on the back of his head. "Ma-Matis you called him?" The name was strange to him, still, as their names were strange among himself and the peerage. Hayato almost saw how it rolled around in his mouth. "He didn't see us. Left once you didn't come back up."

Pulverized by steel tempered by far stronger arms. "Damn Johto swine! Surrender already! Your country can't stand on miracles much longer!"

"He's going in the same direction your friends took Ash," the girl said, worriedly.

This...this not-Takeshi, who looked like him and sounded like him and smelled like him and felt like him and acted like him...

Why were they so alike? How weren't they the same?

Hayato grit his chattering teeth and clenched his eyes shut in anguish. This was not fair. Why should war break out now and take his friend away, then somehow drop an other-worlder into his lap that was basically him with a strange, unintelligible name? Because now, he couldn't keep either. Takeshi had chosen Matis (without knowing, or seeing, how Hayato had felt); not-Takeshi and his friends had to be sent back.

But once he opened them, he tried to sit up, marginally making it on his own; his clothing stuck to him like friendly ice. Time to stop thinking about this. That Boy was in danger, if Kanto wasn't ignorant to Johto's movements; he had to contact them. "You still have to be taken to the ruins," he said. "Your friend is protected as well as we can provide for, and there's a communications tower not too far from there. Get you there, and hopefully we'll be in time to warn them."

Act cold, act unforgiving, act ungrateful. He was colder than Yanagi's glares, inside and out. Don't give the children one kind thought of this place. Don't give them reason to remember it beyond a dimensional displacement. Not-Takeshi helped him up, and Hayato shrugged him off. The girl wasn't blind to the snub no more than not-Takeshi was. Leave it that way.

Don't make them wish for things they cannot have.

Misty
Watching Chuck and Misty bringing it down to the battle of the amphibians wasn't too thrilling: it was simply Poliwrath exerting its energy (with precise control no one doubted of Chuck's training) to a Politoed who used its energy to effectively dodge. She won due to stamina; Politoed never would have had a chance otherwise.

He never guessed, the first time he met her (on the road with The Boy), she was one of the Cerulean sisters. She looked like none of them, acted like none of them, dressed like none of them. Any one of the other sisters would have forfeit after two seconds (Violet) after the start, or after one attack (Lily), or after one faint of three (Daisy). Apparently it was the black sheep that made the effort. He liked that.

Black sheep made life exciting.

He made the trip to congratulate her, making it casual, simple, as if he had not gone out of his way. Struck up a strained conversation that had little to do with anything except how she fought, and a little on her friends. It wasn't the smoothest conversation--Corey laughed at him later, Morty was a little more sympathetic, Whitney hit the middle ground--but he did believe he had a little hope.

"Find me after the bouts are over, okay?" she had said, with sunny smile. "We can get some tea."

Hey, it worked for him.

Tracey
He caught him napping supine on the sunlight-caked couch one afternoon, wonderfully vulnerable and exposed for the taking. It wouldn't take much, just a little coaxing, a touch here, a caress there. Have to be gentle, else he'll wake, don't have much time either way. No way to know how long the victim would stay cooperative and static.

Falkner woke up half an hour later, with a short yawn and a face-rub, to find Tracey in a chair across from him, sketch pad in hand and a disappointed pout on his fresh countenance. "Oh well," he sighed. "All good things come to an end."

"Strange choice," he said, deducing the situation. While he stretched, Tracey happily crossed the moderate distance, dropping himself carefully into Falkner's lap. With a quick kiss, he was more than pleased to show off his worked sketch. "I think you got the wrong model," Falkner confessed, bemused. "I don't look like that."

Tracey simply smiled. "Trust me, you do."

May
He wasn't much into watching ordinary television; there was also something else to do to fill up his time. But she wanted to watch some movie about a giant Tyranitar terrorizing the fair people of Saffron with him (which he knew to be a scarier place without a giant stone-scaled reptile on the rampage, thanks to the likes of Sabrina), and he wasn't about to deny a simple want such as that.

So curled up on the couch they became, and while there were better things he could be doing, his mind insistently nagged, even that late at night...spending time with May trumped any chore he could think of, his heart argued.

"I've seen giant pokémon before," May confessed, though it sounded more like a joke than a confession. Her head was laying on his shoulder, confined by fingers carding gently into her hair.

"Oh really?" He didn't quite believe her, but stranger things have happened in real life. "What sort?"

"A Claydol, a Gulpin, a Caterpie that became a Butterfree..."

"They Hyper Beam cities into destruction?"

She hit him lightly in the thigh for teasing her. He chuckled. "You better believe me," she said, pouting.

"Throw in a Venomoth and I will."

"You weren't suppose to have a sense of humor."

"I like you flustered?"

She made a little disapproving noise Falkner liked (it was cute), and slid down the couch until her head rested in his lap. "And what great adventures did you have, Mr. Half-the-world-flies-by-me?"

He didn't stop carding her hair. "All the ones I'm ever going to have, ending with you."

Dawn
She clung to his arm so securely, Falkner could feel the planes of her body as if she were bare. He wondered if inviting her with him to the gala was the right choice; he hadn't been allowed to let another League member ride his side, and they had only recently started dating. Recently, as in hardly a month ago. Did he really want to be seen with her just yet?

But then she escaped in a flurry of smiles and cultured execution, making her way straight to Johto's current League all-star, Lyra, with the familiarity of old friends, and it was like she fit in already, with the poppet's blessing.

"The Sinnoh girl?" Morty asked, not a moment later, quiet as a cat and mellow as one too.

"She came with a Togekiss and had me at, 'Can you help me?'" he explained flatly, his eyes never leaving her in the small crowd. "She has a pedigree to be approved of, if push comes to shove."

Morty hummed in acknowledgment. "Do you like her that much?"

Just then, she turned and gave a composed wave with a bright smile, a beam of light that reflected off the sequins of her dress. It made him feel awkward and shy, but... Yes. Maybe he didn't mind being seen with her.

"A little more each second."

Project Cycle Marathon: Falkner

Highrise Above All

Highrise Above All

Highrise Above All

Highrise Above All

...indeed...

Highrise Above All

Highrise Above All

Highrise Above All

Highrise Above All

Pokémaniac

Highrise Above All

T3H CR@ZY CH1CKZ0R

Highrise Above All

Radda radda.

Highrise Above All

Radda radda.

Highrise Above All

Highrise Above All

Highrise Above All

Highrise Above All