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[attr="class","bisc"]The brunette grinned. Some of the awkwardness faded as the smile widened. Sure, celebrating awkwardness was weird, but it felt nice not to be alone, you know? Scotti filed away the fact that his new pal’s crush was a dude. Not that it’d stay there long. His brain was a sieve.

“More than once.” Why his sister let him work the front counter was beyond him. Probably some attempt at exposure therapy. But it wasn’t that he was scared of people; he actually liked them. He even went out of his way to try and make friends..His tongue just refused to play along. A short bark of laughter greeted Shinobu’s next words. “Sounds like a sister to me.”

Biscotti’s face fell as the talk of sisters turned sad. For a moment, his mind went to Vanilla. What would he do if he lost his baby sister? What would that do to him? For once, he was glad he couldn’t really understand. “Hey, man.” His face fell. “I’m sorry about your sister.” He shook his head. “I get where your parents were coming from."

This guy was a big sharer, huh? As the backstory continued, the brunette wondered if he should tell a story too. Or if that’d be seen as more one-upping than empathetic. Though his brain tried to conjure the right words, all he got was awkward radio static. In the end, he settled for trying a comforting shoulder squeeze. But that felt so impersonal.

That was good at least. He’d never experienced a headache, but he wagered they really sucked. “That’s great man!” Honestly, the fact that he’d helped this guy maybe see again felt great. It wouldn’t be too hard to get in contact with a psychic type. “There’s plenty on, um. Route—-113? 112?”

His own flushing was a little delayed. Grabbing the guy—especially knowing he liked dudes--was kind of a dick move. But he didn’t want to let go. That’d be even worse! Luckily, a Mareep almost bumped into him, shaking off that temporary embarrassment. The sun glinted off the brilliant gem at the edge of its tail for a moment. He came to a stuttering stop in front of the gate. An anticipatory grin crawled across his face as the duo of Mareeps began to flood into their pin.

“Hah!” Forgetting that earlier flash of awkwardness, he moved to clap Shinobu in a hug. “Yeah man!” With an irritable bleat—reminding Scotti of an angry Yelper—the last animal vanished into its pen. “We did it!”

His Incineroar turned an indignant, irritable gaze to him. She snorted. Smoke flowed from her nose as her brow jerked upward. “Uuuuuh—-” There’s an awkward, apologetic giggle as he fights with his words. “They did it.” Only then did the Incineroar grab the gate and close it.

Grinding out his cigarette with a boot, the stablehand vanished into the shadows of the barn.

shinobu fujimori

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[attr="class","bisc"]When Anastasia walked in, the bakery was pretty much empty. The lunch rush had just ended, and the staff (aka Scotti) were taking a brief reprieve. Sitting on a stool just out of sight, he was munching his way through a crustless PB sandwich. Fresh bread somehow leveled the thing up a notch.

Ching ching! The doorbell jerked Scotti free from his reverie. Break’s over!

He fumbled with his sandwich for a moment as he slid his phone into a too small jean pocket. Behind the counter, the store’s Dachsbun perked up. Her little muzzle opened in a yawn as she stretched her slinky body wide. Her bed fit perfectly in the space beneath the cake counter.

After almost stumbling over a mop—something Professor Incompetent (aka himself) had forgotten to put back—the Kingsley made his way into the bakery. He opened his mouth to greet Anastasia, but all that came out was: “Woocom to Kwingsley’s Confwessions.” The prim little dog Pokemon at his feet glared up at him with all the warmth of Judge Judy. Whoops. It wasn’t his fault peanut butter was sticky.

Struggling against his snack for a moment more allowed Scotti to swallow it down. He grinned awkwardly. “Sorry.” These words seemed to be directed to his feet instead of Anastasia. “I—uh—welcome--” Nope, he’d already said that.


Brown eyes drifted across the display cases. “Picking’s a pain.” Luckily, his messed up genes kept the smell from getting to him. “You could try flipping a coin?” Like 100 times.

Anastasia Harmon

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[attr="class","bisc"]About the time he stuck his head out, Himiko called out. Sure, she was on the other side, but that was too close for him. It was time to make like a turtle and retreat. Shit! Biscotti ducked back inside the shed. His heart jumped into his throat.

Then, the threats began. Panicked eyes shifted to his Incineroar. Burning everything!? He forced himself to swallow as he squeezed more tightly against toppled tupperware. “P-poisoning?” His limbs shook as he turned to the disgustingly cheery door. Biscotti took a step forward as if to answer the door. It wasn’t like he could fight this lady. “I think we need to—”

And running hadn’t paid off last time. Maybe this entire thing had been a bad idea. Vanilla was probably already—Arceus, no. The hair on his arms stood up as something gathered energy outside. The shadows around them seemed to retreat slightly, like juice sucked out a straw. With a snarl, the fire-type grabbed him and tugged him back. Without warning, the dark cat crushed him against his chest.

Seconds later, the door exploded. Pink splinters ricocheted across the room. A pained grunt erupted from Jangle as the wood turned her into a hedgehog. A strange, anomalous hybrid between craft room, rodent, and predator. Though he didn’t voice it—or feel it—Scotti ended up with a nice scratch beneath his eyes. “H-hey!” The baker shouted at the now open doorway. “You’re supposed to countdown before doing something like that!”

His scold was muffled by muscles and fur as his Incineroar let him go. Angry sapphire eyes stared down the Zorua. “Hey, uh—JJ? You’ve got a little—” The cat waved her trainer off. She stumbled forward just as his hand closed around a wooden shard. It popped out with an audible squelch. The Incineroar snarled before shoving him back.

As her hands touched his shirt, he could feel the heat. “JJ?” The cat jerked her head toward the collapsed end of the building as she rocketed toward the opposing trainer. Go. Heat swelled to uncomfortable levels as her Blast Burn sought to slow them down.

With a final glance at Jangle, Biscotti moved to scamper out through a space between a support beam and the fallen roof. A hand lifted to wipe the blood from his face.

50 MP Injury by a Pokemon

Yamaguchi Himiko

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[attr="class","bisc"]All he wanted to do was find Nilla. Which was—pretty much—the entirety of his plan. Sure, his sister was a champion in the making, but she was only thirteen. Or twelve. Honestly, he had a hard time with ages. That and talking. And, some days, walking.

But that didn’t mean anything now! He was doing all right at this whole infiltrating Petalburg thing.

Emerald leaves fall as he pushes his way through a shrub. Little ruby scratches dotted exposed skin around his ankles and wrists. But he didn’t—couldn’t notice those. Not with his nerves up to an eleven.

In an attempt to go unnoticed, he was currently Pokemon free. A fact that made his nerves way worse than usual. Repeatedly, his hands slipped to his hidden Pokeballs. They ghosted over a Great Ball with a little fire sticker. There had been a ell next to it once upon a time, but he’d worn it off with use. A black hoody hid most of him from view. WIth his head hunched over, he hoped he could pass for a surly grunt on their way to an assignment.

All he had to do was fit in.

MAKI YUKIMURA

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[attr="class","bisc"]Vanilla was missing. His stupid memes and texts hadn’t garnered so much as a simple read. And he knew his sister.

Which meant he knew exactly where she’d probably been headed: Petalburg. The pipsqueak had more courage in her little finger than he did in his entire body. Honestly, he wasn’t even sure where she put that stuff. All that bravado meant there was zero chance she hadn’t tried to help.

He gave it three days before he started to panic. ‘Please don’t make me come down there.’ This message is sent with a bit of sarcasm. After a few hours, he sent it again. ‘Please don’t make me come out there.’

Sure, they called the cops, since she was a minor. But there were thousands of people missing out here. Dozens of people struggling to contact loved ones. That meant they were on their own. And he might be a bad big brother, but he couldn't just leave her here. He had to protect her.

Laying his bike against a tree, Biscotti took a shaky breath. He reached into the bag around the back. He slipped a ruby hat over his head. It was a perfect match to his red polo. A pair of khakis finished off the ensemble.

Though there was no visible Pokemon, he wasn’t alone. It just felt like brandishing a Pokemon was a BAD idea. With a capital B, and A, and D. His light brown eyes were currently heterochromatic. Why neither of them were purple, he’d never figured out.

“Let’s go, Bubbe.” He grinned awkwardly as he balanced the pizza box on his arm. A feminine, elderly cackle told him his ghoul was ready to go. And, well, he hoped somebody wanted a pizza. Because he was in the pain gang right now, and he really didn’t want to experience any.

After a few moments, he reached what seemed like a guardpost. Swallowing his words, he tried to get up the courage to speak. “Uh—” So far, so good. “I’ve got a delivery for, um—” The boy stared at the receipt for a moment, trying to recall the made-up name. But his nervous sweats had melted the receipt, dappling his palms with black.

In the end, he settled for a defeated, almost wisplike: “Pizza?”

Diana Cavendish

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[attr="class","bisc"]Talk about a shitty big brother. He’d been here all day, and he hadn’t even gotten anywhere near where they were holding prisoners. Which, at this point, seemed to be where she’d gotten off to.

Her capture had been confirmed by that weirdo text from Proxi.

A fact that made sense when he actually thought about her going incommunicado. For some reason, his stupid ass had thought she’d just be tied to a stake or something in the middle of town. Or dangled out a window with a cartoonish sign telling him where to cut the rope. But, obviously, that wasn’t how real war worked. This wasn’t some cliche D&D campaign.

But Scotti couldn’t just leave her here. Not when she could be getting hurt. Sure, their family wasn’t perfect (whose was?). But they did all care about eachother. Still, he wished he was a champion or something, not some useless baker boy.

Right now, he was hiding taking refuge in what used to be someone’s she-shed. Its collapsed half were dotted with crafting supplies. Emerald yarn trailed across the floor like vines. Sure, that soldier might not have been shouting at him, but he’d bolted anyway. And, now, he was too scared to confirm somebody chased him.

Outside, the sun was starting to set.

But the ruin itself was brightly lit courtesy of his Incineroar’s belt. A big meaty paw came to rest on the kid’s shoulder. The big cat grunted.. “Thanks, JJ.” He took a steadying breath. "Ready?"

After about 10 minutes of silence, he poked his head out the hole beside the obnoxiously pink door.

50 MP showcase your own character's weakness(es) meaningfully.
50 MP showcase a meaningful moment between your character and their Pokemon.

Yamaguchi Himiko

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[attr="class","bisc"]As they went along, Scotti found his brain wandering.

First, it was about how he’d gotten roped into this. Sure, he wanted to help Hoenn, but he wasn’t sure making a delivery to a creepy guy in a fortress qualified. Then, he started thinking about eggs themselves—omelets and the process of making them. Which of course led to him wondering how his mum’s Skitty had come from a Wailord and what other wildcard combos were out there. So, now, he was trying to puzzle that out.

Then, Shalin spoke to him. Suddenly, he remembered he was on a cat. “Wha—!?” He startled back into the saddle with a guilty exclamation. Now, he was again aware of how weird riding the Persian felt. It was like a furry rollercoaster.

Couldn’t she have waited until he wasn’t being Professor Pervert? “I—uh—yeah.” Biscotti grinned awkwardly. With that same embarrassment, he followed her hand toward the horizon. Labrador eyes narrowed as he tried to pick out the house among the rocks."Where is—oh, I see it now.” At least, he thought that was their destination. That or it was just a funny shaped rock. At the talk of views, he swallowed. Him and heights didn’t exactly get along.

But he wasn’t going to admit that. His pride wouldn't let him.

“I’m guessing I won’t be imagining too long?”

nabi park

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[attr="class","bisc"]Even with his deadened sense of smell, Scotti usually awoke to the smell of baked goods. It drifted from downstairs as his sister got to work prepping the store.

And, even if he knew he wouldn't smell much, he'd give a ritualistic sniff.

Today, however, there was something foul in the air. The smell was acrid and made his eyes water. It made Biscotti glad his schnoz was only half functional.”What is that?” He threw his legs from his bed, revealing his Ledian pants. A scarred hand reached own to gently shake awake the Houndour at the foot of his bed. “C’mon, Woof!”

The smell led him to the back garden. A surprisingly large green space full of excess seating. There he found a Skuntank pawing at one of his sister’s six berry trees. With a growl, the chubby Houndour rushed for it. “Stay!” There’s a blink of confusion from the black hound. It turns to look at its scrawny, shirtless trainer. Scotti smiles softly. “It’s just hungry, bud.”

Dashing back inside, he returns with a pair of cookies. He tosses them at the Skuntank’s feet. One makes contact with his tail, the other falls into the grass. Scotti holds his back.

CATCHING SKUNTANK

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[attr="class","bisc"]The Incineroar’s fist hits the rock snake square in the jaw. But Jangle’s face isn’t happy about it. It’s the kind of expression you’d expect from someone headbutting a brick wall. Which, now that he thinks about it, isn’t that far off. But that pain doesn’t get much of a return. He’s pretty sure it doesn’t even crack the stone.

But—if defusing was the goal—that move was a total failure. Bloodshot eyes narrowed. A craggy jaw opens in a deafening roar. It sprays spit across the retreating brunette’s back. Jangle is quick to toss herself between the crippled girl and the angry Pokemon. The stones at the end of its tail thrash angrily behind it. It smashes its head against the tunnel as if trying to dislodge ringing in its ears.

As Nabi summons the Beautifly, Scotti’s eyes widen. He tosses a glance back to the much larger, much tougher Pokemon behind them. “Uh...” There’s a slight hesitation. “-I know size isn’t everything, but I’m pretty sure that guy can squish your buddy.” The air hisses behind them as the anomalous toxic chain drops to the ground.

The surprised look on the Onix’s face is temporarily mirrored in the baker’s one. What the heck is that thing? It looks like something from Alien. It’s gross. It’s obviously dangerous. Some part of him wants to touch it. The rock wall’s collapse is punctuated by an order from Nabi.

“Right!” There’s a hint of guilt to his voice as the brunette drags Nabi toward the exit. “Get a move on, JJ!” With a final glare, the Incineroar ducks out through the stony gap. As she sidles past, a well-placed kick plunges the Onix back into isolation, An anxious sapphire glance confirms the gap's closed.

Ignorant of the red trail he left behind, Scotti and Nabi would make their way to the surface. A useless endeavor that did nothing but almost add two more to the count of the missing.

nabi park

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[attr="class","bisc"]The brunette was used to awkward pauses. But, usually, he was the one causing him. At the short response, Biscotti shrugged. Looks like he needs a minute. Curtness and brushings off didn’t really bug him. He wasn’t important enough to demand attention. So, ignoring him washed off his back like water with a Ducklett. Or, uh, was it oil? After lingering for a second more, the baker turned his attention to his work area.

A bit of powdered sugar dusted into a trash bin. The twine was wrapped into a shape that vaguely resembled his Dachsbun’s head before winding fully into a little pile. Then, the kid spoke again. “Oh?” Biscotti’s smile was the same as earlier. It was all easygoing, doofus dog. “Well, that’s what they pay me for.” There was a small pause as he muttered something beneath his breath. “Not that it’s all that much.” Then again, his sister didn’t charge him anything—no rent, no gas, no electricity.

At the talk of cupcakes, Biscotti nodded. They only had one order like that back there. “Sure, bud! I’ll just need your name—” There was a pause. “And how much time you want me to waste.”

absalom steel

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