Callan often felt somewhat uncomfortable around compliments. Even with all this time in the limelight, he was unable to truly shake off that feeling completely. When someone he found so completely enamored with spoke in such a way, he often had a difficult time believing it entirely. But he pushed it away, not wanting to sacrifice her attention to the nature of his self-conscious vanity.

"Babe?" Callan's eyebrows raise in mild surprise, the shudder of a momentary vision of someone catcalling him races past his mind, a wolf whistle accompanying a slightly blush faced Desiree.

His attention snaps back as she kisses him gently, he hums in satisfaction as he returns it by pressing his lips onto her forehead. "I suppose I'm the only one that should be able to call you by that." He grins.

The rings are brought forward Callan follows suit, taking the rings and slipping them onto his own wrist. As Desiree throws the first loop, he himself begins to toss his, trying to muster whatever throwing technique he had learned from his Pokemon training and applying it to some loose plastic ring with terrible construction.

Their loops hurtle through the air--



And Callan finds himself completely smashed by Desiree's superior ring tossing technique. "Wow, they should make you the Elite Four of circus games." He nips her gently on the ear, as she gets to choose a prize between three Pokeballs: Red, Green and Yellow.

"Ooh, a mystery pokemon for a prize. Which one are you getting?"

"I certainly hope that's not what you think I am." Callan smiles, as he watches the light from his Alolan Ninetales' Dazzling Gleam dissipate from the shockwaves created by Lopunny's HYPER VOICE.

There was certainly a malleability to the usage of moves that Greyson possessed that Callan eprsonally could learn from. It was a good thing that he was a swift learner. To adapt to another person's training regiment was a key component of every trainer's toolkit. If traditional forms of damage would not do, he would simply have to adapt.

The Comfey that comes out binds to the wrist of the Lopunny. Callan wondered how long this match would stall out, perhaps that was the entire goal, to frustrate the trainer into doing something reckless.

"IMPRISON them, use EXPANDING FORCE within the domain."

If the Lopunny's ability was to be able to move out the way and react in time enough to create light, then it would do to first seal away its avenues for escape. A large, cubic form creates itself around the two opposing Pokemon of contrasting terrains of grass and psychic, shrinking inwards as it begins to seal in the Pokemon as it begins to shrink and limit the bunny's movement. Before the EXPANDING FORCE comes out from Lyselle.

---

Psychic Terrain (3 turns)
Grassy Terrain (5 turns)

Callan feels the touch of her palm against his cheek, and it brings a momentary spark of life into those distant eyes. "That was my experience too." Callan replies, "Everyone wants you to be the fantasy, and not the person... but sometimes, you have to be the flawed individual that you are. And hopefully, find someone who loves you for the vulnerabilities that you do possess."

He smiles as the song fades. He wished it lasted longer, they had only begun to connect, but he couldn't let a beautiful girl stay with an old, crusty musician for the rest of the night.

He sticks his tongue out playfully, "It was my pleasure dear." Before he lets go of her, he tucks his face inwards and presses his lips towards hers, his hand holds the back of her neck gently as he brushes against her lips, slowly parting backwards after the moment passes.

"For the memory of us, whenever we meet again." Callan grins, and gently lets go of the hand, "Let's grab each other's numbers, I'd love to take you out sometime."

"Morning Dylan." Comes Callan's reply. He stands up, claps Dylan on the shoulder and then takes a seat once he's with him.

His secretary comes in, placing a bottle of water for the both of them. Callan slides two sheets of pitch black paper towards Dylan, "Take a look at this, lemme know if you feel there's anything that's out of place or you're not comfortable with." Callan smile, before taking a pen from his pocket. "If you're comfortable, or got no questions, you can sign. It's honestly a formality, but I'd be cautious to check the print even if it's boring."

@tagsomeone

This agreement is made and entered into as of July 10, 2023 by and between Teravolt Records, an independent music label company (hereinafter "Label"), and dylan sayer, an individual (hereinafter "Artist").


By signing below, Label and Artist acknowledge and agree that the terms and conditions outlined in this recording contract are legally binding. Label agrees to fulfil the duties and obligations as the commercial distributor and licencor of the Recordings.

Artist agrees to deliver the minimum number of Recordings on the agreed schedule in a technical quality suitable for commercial release. This agreement is made willingly by Label and Artist with full understanding of their commitments and the rights they are granting or obtaining.

---

The battle over Dewford continues in a torrential pouring of disparate battles across the sleepy town. Overhead, in the skies, the battle ensues as a wave of League personnel swoop down towards a deploying Rocket vessel by the base.

Ugin drives downwards in a sharp spike, and with it an oncoming cluster of meteors dive down towards the ships on the Rockets, a barrier is erected almost immediately, but shatters, leaving the forces unharmed.

"Pyroclast to all forces, Elite Four has been sighted nearby! Requesting immediate support!"

Ugin swings back upwards, swirling in the air to avoid the oncoming Thunderbolt. As Callan moves to take a second bombing run, he is intercepted suddenly by a blindsiding aerial attack.

[attr="class","itemcolstr"]

They say that the realms of terastal energy allowed the illusory to become real. Paradox Pokemon, terastallization, the creations of the collective unconscious, or in this case, a singular unconscious, was possible through the use of terastal powers.

In this case, a simple acid trip became a powerful demon, as the manifestations of Desiree's mental traumas coalesced. The energy affected her far stronger than it did Callan, it seemed, though to be fair he had at least twenty years of experience living in an affected area. He would be inoculated, compared to the relatively less experienced musician in matters of being subject to dangerous forces.

What truth was laid bare was accepted through a fever mist of concentration. Callan was weighted as he struggled to stand, let alone be able to form coherent sentences to respond to the vision with tact. But he did get the gist.

"...Shut up." He seethed, the vision had lost his respect the moment Callan realized he had put his daughter in a position where she had to kill him. Following her Cradily's ANCIENT POWER, Callan's own Toxtricity releases a torrential surge of electrical shockwaves at the vision, evaporating "him."

There would be time to discuss, once things had calmed down. And by calmed down, he meant that they were out of this hellscape. As he begins to walk, Callan notices a stain of red running down Desiree's thigh. "Arceus, Desiree you're bleeding." The questionb was, when dfid this happen? Callan held Desiree in his arms the entire time, there was no way for the man to have shanked her.

He tucks Desiree's knees into his arms and begins to haul ass towards an opening rift. "When we get back," He huffs, groaning through the effects of the radiation, "let's talk about this a little more."

"Good." Callan murmurs, under his breath, a quiet smile forms like a ghost in the arc of his lips.

Snow begins to fall from the nearby area, strengthening Yukianesa's defenses. But further than that, a powerful AURORA VEIL releases, enshrouding the Ninetales in its effervescent light. Bladed rocks float from Navy's Skarmory, and Callan knew full well the plan of attack, it was an intelligent play. Two of his Pokemon would be chipped down, quartered by a single move, making switch ins particularly dangerous for the Elite Four.

To stay in as a Ninetales was likely madness for most opponents, but Callan was often a little mad. That, or he calculated the damage done perfectly in his mind.

The snow forms an initial buffer against the wing, before the aurora veil further cushions the blow of the wing. A four times effective attack was a death sentence for any Pokemon, normally, but with the additional protections afforded, Yukianesa takes the blow and is launched backwards, flipping in mid air and landing on its paws. She's clearly wounded, but still functional.

"Blizzard!" The snow forms into steel spikes, as the daggers travel forwards, attempting to pierce through the armor of Skarmory.




Reference

Callan pauses as she provides her question. "I don't like the music industry." Callan admits.

"It's bloated, and corruption floods the top of the chain and floats its way down. It manipulates artists who dream of making it big on the stage and skews them for the purposes of making money or degrades them into objects in the public eye." He pauses, looking briefly at the champagne he had been sipping, he takes a second sip.

"Having you in the company would legitimize a lot of our claims. Right now, we're under the radar, ready to be picked apart like a Talonflame hunting a Wurmple." Callan pauses, "Having you in the company... would make them think twice. Having the Fisk name would be a deterrent in itself. Perhaps I am thinking about this with political tact, but..."

Callan's eyes turn towards her, "I was hoping you might be willing to give it a chance. Outside of your talents and music, perhaps you may be interested in leveraging your name for the betterment of the music industry. I doubt my contract is worth much to you, but I will make you shine a star, and we'll never treat you as a disposable artist."

Callan pauses as her listens to Fernando's shift in the conversation. "Then definition for you is something that can be changed and altered by mass perception?" He raises a brief eyebrow, it's subtle.

Seviper soup is the first meal that is served, with peel of aspear and salac, and served with fried sheets of dough and herbs.

"I did." Callan replies, "I wanted to ask your advice on running a company. I'm starting a music label of my own and I want to make sure that it stands the test of time."

He takes a sip of his tea as he begins to dig into his soup. "What do you think are qualities needed to be an effective CEO, Fernando?"

Callan smiled gently. "Perhaps I've misjudged the situation. It seems this is a sensitive topic for you."

He reached for a marshmallow, roasting it slowly over the fire. "I don't mean to imply anything or make assumptions. Only you can truly understand your experiences."

His eyes met hers, crimson orbs filled with compassion. "But from an outside perspective, I wonder if focusing too much on pain can attract more of the same. Not out of malice, but almost out of habit."

"True victims are often reluctant to share their stories. They seek only to move on." He bit into the marshmallow thoughtfully. "Whereas those seeking attention tend to broadcast their misfortunes, almost addicted to the drama."

Callan sighed. He smiled gently. "Perhaps you enjoy it, but the road that leads to is self-sabotage and loneliness. And the first step to being helped is to recognize where you are in a pattern.

Do you feel like what I am saying is resonating with you? Because I could very much be wrong." He grins, "And if I am wrong, I can't help you. If I'm right though, I can tell you how best to deal with your emotions."

Callan's fiery crimson eyes met Desiree's cool cerulean ones, their gazes locking intensely as he sensed the waves of concern radiating from her being. He groans gently from the touch of her lips radiating kisses down his neck, it sends shivers of flame, stoking him even further.

"It's a promise, then." Callan replies, as he himself dips down towards Desiree's mouth, his teeth sink into her lower lip as he parts them with his tongue. His hand holds the back of her head as he nestles her against his chest and he tastes her cocktail exploring every inch of her mouth, breathing the scent of her perfume mixed with the smokiness of her vaporizer.

His hand slides down her chest and rests at her waist, he could feel his inner desires boil violently for her. But he held it in, for now. The moment falters as he speaks his words. He himself is dragged out of that heat and fire as she reveals a momentary weakness, vulnerability, behind her cheerful and electric outer shell, the gentle formation of droplets, struggling to hold themselves back in her eyes.

With a feather-light caress of her cheek, made gentle by his calloused yet caring hands, he whispered softly "Thank you for trusting me enough to let me see a glimpse of your truth, even if just a sliver. I promise I won't ask or dig for more than you are comfortable revealing to me right now." He pauses, "But I am here for you, if you ever need me. If you need to be held, if you need an ear, if you want me to just spend time with you." He smiles.

Her delicate hands tracing lingeringly down his muscular body distracted him momentarily, pulling his consciousness briefly away. Her fingers would find sinuous muscle, held together as if from decades of misuse, only starting to get better after a couple of years of athletic activity. Callan was thin, wiry, and the tattoo she pressed against tickled against his chest.

He refocused his attention on the question she had posed. What was it that drove him in life? What fueled his inner fire? A thoughtful smile crossed his lips as he pondered deeply over his answer. "I... grew up in a place where living past twenty five was considered a blessing. My parents were not kind, I was an outcast for most of my life, I grew and became associated with crowds best left unmentioned." He began, "At first, it was a ravenous hunger - an all-consuming need to prove myself against the seemingly insurmountable odds, with what I thoguht was a death sentence." And then there was a moment's pause, from the weighty amount of reflection. "My underprivileged upbringing, my lack of resources or help... music and battling became were saving graces, I was talented and smart, but I couldn't express them in healthy ways. Those were my outlets.."

As she settled herself, he continued introspectively, sharing his innermost thoughts. "But as my band Teravolt took off beyond my wildest dreams and opportunities came pouring in, I realized that every accomplishment and milestone meant opening new doors to even greater possibilities. And so... I guess I kept going. How far can I take this?" Callan said.

His piercing crimson eyes met her cool cerulean ones, his gaze baring the sincerity of his soul. "Now though, beyond fame and fortune, my purpose lies in leaving this world a little better than I found it, if not for myself, for the daughter that I have." He playfully ruffled her cotton candy pink hair, marveling at its softness as he looks into her eyes. His calloused thumb runs over the white tattoos tracing her cheek.

"And for the people that make life so wonderful to live."

Callan pauses, as he feels the mood shift. "Wanna continue this conversation back at my place?"

A slip of paper slides into Marshadow's body, kept within its shadowy form as the rest of the book is cinderized into a husk, despite the best attempts of Michael Navidson and illeana reyes.

It had been a long time, and he had forgotten how it was to be truly in danger. He had forgotten how much he enjoyed it. There is no time to respond, anger or frustration would have to wait until after they had dealt with the looming threat of the primordial Suicune.

Callan's eyes snap towards the flames. He makes a quick decision to recall his Marshadow for his SLAKING. Enma squats, flaring its illumina energy DISGUISE outwards in a protective wall as the flames burn against the illumina shield, shattering it but leaving the SLAKING mostly unharmed. If the flames burn, all the better.

illeana reyes's Never-Ending Nightmare appears to gather shadows in an attempt to seal the WALKING WAKE in, as Michael Navidson rages forward, his URSHIFU using a Z-Move to triple its already potent SURGING STRIKES, alongside PENELOPE LIVY's DARK PULSE.

"Trap it with Livy's attack and Navy's Urshifu!" Callan yells out. Light erupts from his bracelet as he charges up for his Z-Move.

SLAKING enters into the NEVERENDING NIGHTMARE, unaffected by the move by nature of its NORMAL typing. SLAKING's own HYPERADAPT would collide against the WALKING WAKE, a massive fist of aggressive Z-Energy primed to take advantage of its BURN, if it had one, and land a critical blow while pinning the WALKING WAKE in between Urshifu's SURGING STRIKES and Livy's DARK PULSE.

---

AQUA