Because I Need To Jot This Down Somewhere, A List Of Pokmon Whose Bodies Would Be Suitable For Figure

Because I need to jot this down somewhere, a list of Pokémon whose bodies would be suitable for figure skating. Pokémon listed are the highest eligible stage of evolution in their lines.

Bipedal Pokémon with no tail

Alakazam

Machamp

Hypno

Hitmonlee

Hitmonchan

Gardevoir

Slaking

Mawile

Medicham

Roserade

Cacturne

Toxicroak

Gallade

Throh

Sawk

Leavanny

Hisuian Liligant

Gothorita

Golurk

Bisharp

Pangoro

Tsareena

Lurantis

Pheromosa

Blacephalon

Rillaboom

Grimmsnarl

Sneasler

Armarouge

Ceruledge

Iron Valiant

Pokémon with a bipedal, tailed form

Primeape

Kabutops

Electivire

Ampharos

Weavile

Ursaring

Smeargle

Blaziken

Infernape

Ambipom

Lopunny

Lucario

Simisage

Simisear

Simipour

Zoroark

Hisuian Zoroark

Chesnaught

Delphox

Diggersby

Incineroar

Lycanroc--Midnight Form

Bewear

Cinderace

Inteleon

Toxtricity

Meowscarada

Quaquaval

[Johto Moon Festival '24] YOU CANNOT ESCAPE

"And the winner of the 2024 International Coordinating Festival is....Wallace Kassai!"

Wallace strides forward from the contestants' seats at the front of the auditorium, stepping up onto the stage and doing a flip of his hair as celebratory techno music blasts from the speakers and the crowd leaps to their feet with a standing ovation. The Festival hasn't happened yet--this is all a dream, which a highly trained Archchosen such as himself would be able to realize--but he's expecting to win this year so much that it's not as though he has the humility to become aware. He grins and waves to the sea of anonymous faces cloaked in the darkness, then reaches his hand forward to shake the award presenter's hand before receiving his trophy. But instead of taking his hand with a congratulatory smile, the announcer hesitates.

"Excuse me, sir," she says into the mic, "but I believe you're the wrong Wallace."

The crowd and the fanfare music immediately quiet as Wallace stares blankly at her.

"Pardon?" He raises an eyebrow.

"You're the wrong Wallace," she says, louder and more confidently than before.

"Excuse me, madam--" he can't keep the tension out of his voice--"but there is only one Wallace."

"I don't see why there should be." She speaks as though such a clueless and ill-informed statement were common sense.

"Well, who is this imposter of mine?" he huffs, crossing his arms. "Surely there must be some sort of a mistake by the judges, for a mere copy's mimicry of my art could only ever be inadequate. He won't have my charisma. He won't have my panache. And most importantly of all, he could never have the Wallace Touch. It's as I've said many times before. You can't outdo the doer. You can't outshine the shiner, you know--"

No sooner do the words leave his mouth than he sees a blurry dark-skinned figure emerge from the backstage entrance on the other side of the stage. He can't see the details of the imposter's face, but he can see they're his same height, they're in the same clothes, they've dyed their hair the same way--every inch a shadow of him, and he's expected to believe that this mere shadow managed to outshine his glorious light? The announcer holding the trophy turns toward the newcomer with the smile and the prize that should have been for him, beckoning them to quicken their pace. And then, as they draw closer, he sees the detail on their face--and it's at that point that the dream completes its slide down into a nightmare.

Oh no.

It's Handsome.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!"

He screams, but no one hears him. His shrieks are drowned out in the ecstatic roar of the crowd--even louder than the cheers had been for him--and the celebration techno music in the background roaring to life as well. The announcer's face transforms into a Handsome one as she shakes Handsome Ditto's hand and places the trophy in their arms; they blow Wallace's famously elegant kisses from their Handsome Squidward face as they lift the trophy in one hand and waive daintily like a royal with the other. Then the accursed Pokémon cranes their head toward him--and winks.

He screams even more loudly than before, but still he goes unheard. He looks desperately to the crowd--but their faces have all become Handsome as well, and his screams become so loud that if he were in the real world, he would have become both hoarse and deaf. The noise closes in on him from all sides, and In the almighty din, he can't tell where his terror and the crowd's jubilation begins and ends....

"Wallace. Wallace, are you okay?"

He awakes to a bright afternoon light in his eyes, his back a little sore from falling asleep at the roots of a great tree. He recognizes the voice of his husband, Steven Stone, and feels the presence of his QPP, Zinnia. He gathers that both are standing over him, perhaps having felt his distress from wherever they were at in the Moon Festival and going over to see if he was okay.

He has not, however, seen their faces.

"I am now," he says, trying to rub the sleep out of his eyes. "I just had a bad dream."

"Oh, that sounds awful," Steven says, as Zinnia offers him a hand up.

"It was," he groans, taking his partner's hand--and she gives him the nastiest little chuckle before she speaks.

"It sure would be a shame...if your dream got even worse."

He finally looks up at his partners.

THEY HAVE HANDSOME FACES TOO.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO--!"

"Wallace! Wallace! Are you okay?!"

Steven cries out as he and Zinnia run toward Wallace, the "NOOOOOOOOOOOO" from his dream erupting into a Kyogre-like screech that echoes all across the Festival as the poor Archchosen jolts awake. As Wallace's partners approach, he backs himself up against the tree trunk he had fallen asleep against, his eyes wide with panic in the afternoon light. Between the dream that caused homesickness he had the other night and this one, he sure was having a lot of nightmares here in Johto. (Well, two isn't a lot, but it's two too many.)

"Please, no," he sputters. "Please tell me you're not--"

"Not what?" Zinnia looks quite concerned as she offers him her hand.

"Oh--I'm so sorry. I had the most awful dream," he says, heaving a sigh of relief as he notices that these are his real partners, neither of whom have Handsome Squidward faces. Ever aware of others' perceptions of him though, he hasn't failed to notice the small crowd that has gathered around his unmistakable Legendary scream. Great. He knows the press is going to be so, so unbearable about this already.

"What happened, man? Did we try to kill you in it or something?" Zinnia says, helping Wallace to his feet at which point he dusts himself off from the ground.

"Something like that," he sighs, for the truth is far too embarrassing for him to admit. Steven squints--he knows his husband isn't telling the truth--but being supremely discreet due to his upbringing, he doesn't want to pry.

"Oh, please, I know that's not it," Zinnia says, shaking her head. "Do you think I don't know you well enough not to know when you're lying to me?"

"I don't want to talk about it," he grumbles.

"Aw...You know I'm always a no-judgment zone--"

"I said, I don't want to talk about it." A low Kyogre-like growl creeps into his voice; gods know Zinnia wasn't always a no-judgment zone, even though she'd gotten better about it. The irritation goes away almost immediately, though, and he feels bad for having snapped.

"My apologies--I didn't mean to be so short with you," he says. "Shall we get ourselves some refreshments?"

As the three head off to find a booth containing some sort of sweet treat--hopefully some ice cream mochi or milk tea to cool off in the warm summer weather--Asteria's Handsome Ditto, in the form of Wallace, stands behind another nearby tree and smirks.

It knows.

It knows.

(Wallace's therapist: Handsome Ditto can't hurt you. Handsome Ditto: >:3333333)

[Johto Moon Festival '24] Slipping Away

Shirona wakes from the strangest dream.

In the dream, she had awakened from having snuggled with her mother Asimov, who was lying with one arm curled around her in their femme-presenting form. She saw a strange creature, like a Furret but crossed with a raccoon and a badger, scuttle upward onto the bed, sniffing curiously around Asimov's hair; like a child stealing their cellphone back from where their parents put it, it pulls a shining black slip of paper with Asimov's names in gold ink on it from her head and running off. Shirona had cried out for the being to come back, but it did not heed her calls, vanishing into the morning mist--a thief in the dawn. She woke up, mouth open and hand outstretched, just like they had been when the dream was finished.

She doesn't need to ask anyone for help to know that her mother's name has been stolen. Names are important, but especially to dragons, for whom deliberately using the wrong name is usually considered a capital offense. She knows she can wake her mother, and swiftly solve this issue--like every child her age, she thinks her parent is invincible, so much more so because they're literally a Girarceus--but she decides not to. What if she plays the hero and gets Asimov's name slip back herself? Then they'll finally see that she doesn't need to be hovered over all the time! They'll stop panicking when she was even a little out of their sight. They'll stop trying to accompany her on hunting trips even when they know that any Paradox Human child of six can already hunt and fight for themselves. Maybe they'll even stop putting her to bed at 7:30 PM sharp, and let her stay up late reading like the big girl she thinks she is! What can there be to lose?

In pursuit of her mother's name slip, she slips away into the morn.

The sun has just barely risen behind the cloud cover and the festival grounds aren't open yet. That isn't going to stop her from using her budding Giratina abilities to stealthily pass through them on her way to the Hangetsu Shrine. Everyone at the festival was so friendly and helpful--if there is anyone at the shrine this early, will they fault her for sneaking there to seek their aid in an emergency? If they don't understand that, perhaps they'll understand once they notice they can no longer say the words "Giratina" or "Arceus." That's bound to get their attention, even if they scold her because of her age.

If she reached out with her senses more, she would sense that something is different about the shrine today--particularly the first torii on the way in. But she's not in the mood for caution, or attention to these little details, so she charges right through--and abruptly stops once the cloudy day around her turns into a clear night.

She gazes about at the scene before her, dozens of yokai on a busy lantern-lit street, a kind of place one sees only in movies and books.

Maybe she's not to be a hero this time--but she's found something so much better.

----------

When Asimov themself wakes, they wake to an empty patch of warmth beside them--and the cold realization that both their name and their daughter have vanished.

The missing name is bad enough. Whatever being did it, Asimov would soon find out--the perpetrator is a fool to think it can hide such a grievous theft from a being as powerful as they. But they don't even have time to feel angry about the name slip before they notice that something far more precious is missing--their girl, their shining star, the only child they have left in the world, the center of what makes the multitudes of existence worth experiencing--gone. They cry out in wordless pain, their chest seizing with violent contractions that an ordinary human might mistake for a heart attack, as though their heart, the very heart of their world's cosmos, is about to burst. Even though they are far from their original world, the whole world of Fallenverse can feel it, a wave of deepening despair as fierce and raw as the cosmic hopelessness that had once engulfed it.

"Shirona!" they cry. "SHIRONA!"

They sprint down every hall and into every open room of the hotel before returning back to it, without their child. They run back to the bedroom and grip their blankets, claws unsheathing into the fabric as their panic turns to rage.

One of their Pokémon floats in to comfort them. A being called Holy Mausoleum, it is a white Spiritomb-like Paradox Pokémon made from the essences of the virtuous instead of the souls of the wicked. Like Spiritomb, its face is but a disk, but instead of a nasty grin it sports the visage of a benevolent, wise dragon. Asimov senses the being behind them, and turns with a look of utter devastation in their eyes.

"They took my daughter," they murmur, and then their murmur turns into a growl. "THEY TOOK MY DAUGHTER."

"No one has taken her," Mausoleum says calmly. "You know how adventurous she is. She might have left on her own."

"And how do you know that? Why didn't you go with her? Someone here--they must have--she'd never be able to--we must go, we're losing time--I'll show NO mercy if they hurt her--I WILL BURN ALL OF JOHTO TO THE GROUND IF THEY HURT EVEN A HAIR ON HER HEAD--"

It is at that point Mausoleum takes the form of one of Asimov's mothers, Raya--one of the virtuous ones whose essence makes up the Pokémon. She's not nearly as fair as her daughter, in fact she's rather disagreeable to look at, but she has a certain kindness radiating from her very being that makes none of that matter in the end. She puts a comforting hand on their shoulder, and their tension melts away into it. She is but an echo of Asimov's mother, but nonetheless, she's one of the few people who can calm them.

"Have you tried using your senses to find her?" Raya says. "You are a god now. Surely there are solutions that don't involve threatening an entire region."

"You're right," Asimov snarls. "I can find who took her without even leaving this room. And then they'll--"

"Don't think about that right now. Just search."

They close their eyes--but they can't relax. In their frenzy their consciousness flings itself into any available corner of the world, both mundane and metaphysical, scrambling about the web of reality like a skittering Galvantula. Raya squeezes their hand and sends a pulse of calming Psychic into them, and their searching slows as they sit down on the bed--though it doesn't quite stop their chest from feeling squeezed like a stress ball. Finally, finally, they find her.

"She's in the spirit world." They jolt to their feet once again. "We must--"

"Not when you're having a panic attack, my child," says the echo of their mother, not fully the one they lost but still her enough to have maternal feelings toward Asimov.

"It doesn't matter! She's--"

"She will come to no harm. Do you really think the spirits will hurt a Girarceus, even one so small? Even if one wanted to, do you think they would want to risk your wrath?"

"But I can't--"

Raya sits her daughter back down on the bed, and places a hand on their chest. The Psychic pulsing into them is stronger this time, boosted by a Calm Mind that the Pokémon infuses into them. She wants to stay there until her daughter calms, but with each pulse of the calming essence, their body pushes back--as though it wants to be panicked. She tries to say her daughter's name to calm them, any of their names, but when she does, the silence around them ominously deepens.

She lets out a strangled noise when she tries to say "Voloska," but she manages to get out a "Please. Please."

This is going to take a while.

----------

The spirit realm so reminds Shirona of the realm of the gods, which she has also visited often. She wanders down the streets, taking in the sights, looking down nooks and crannies at interesting scents that tickle her sense of smell--as sensitive as a snake's. It's all so familiar to her, as a spiritual being herself from the Lands of the Rising Sun, and yet since these are not her lands, it also feels like the faraway destination of adventure. She stares and stares and stares at all the yokai--save for some, who return her curious gaze with hostile glares. A little godling she might be, and perhaps if she were a Girarceus of this world she would not receive such hostility, but she is a foreign god, and even back home those of the spirit world can be quite cagey around outsiders. Not wanting to cause upset, though oblivious to the fact that many might regard her as unwelcome here, she averts her eyes from those.

She doesn't know how long she wanders. No matter what, though, she's long forgotten the prospect of returning Asimov's name slip--

Huh? There! Ducking into one of the shops on the street! It's the Furret-like creature from her dream! And in its mouth--the black and gold name slip! Her focus immediately snaps back to the task she wandered off for as she leaps toward the being.

"HEY! THAT BELONGS TO MY MOM!"

The Furret, realizing she's been caught, darts off through the streets--slipping under carts and beneath the other spirits' feet, zig-zagging this way and that in the labyrinthine city as Shirona gives chase. She turns into her Girarceus form--level 5, tiny, and about as threatening-looking as a baby goat--but when the Furret looks back over her shoulder, she recognizes the being for what it is and quickens her already lightning fast pace. Shirona isn't as fast, but she is clever; she locks on to the Pokémon's very Aura, making it appear like a singular colorful point of light in a sea of black and white. Finally, the Furret scrambles up the side of a building, hoping to evade the young dragonet by going somewhere she can't reach. But with her sharp claws she Spider-Girls her way up the side of the building's wood pole faster than the poor creature's mental health is prepared for, and pins the Pokémon down on the rooftop while snatching the name slip back in her claws.

"Who are you, and why did you steal from Mama?!"

The Furret lets out a squeal and writhes under her grip.

"P-please don't hurt me!" she yelps. "I didn't do anything!"

"Didn't do anything? You stole--" she instinctively tries to say Girarceus, but chokes on the word--"You stole a CREATOR GOD'S name slip! Who also happens to be one of my parents! How can you--"

"I didn't know it would mean that much to her! She can always get a new name, can't she?" Furret squeaks. "I just saw it and thought it was really pretty, and I like shiny things, so I...."

"Oh, please." Shirona rolls her eyes. "No creature of the spirit world would be stupid enough to take a deity's name slip just because it was shiny. And by the way, they're a they/them today."

"I didn't think they'd be this upset. I really didn't, I just thought the name slip was gorgeous, I have a whole collection of pretty things but I've never had a black and gold name slip before...."

Furret used Baby-Doll Eyes! It's not very effective...or is it?

For though Shirona can sometimes have a quick temper, she forgives as fast as she gets angry. And once she can see past her anger, she can sense that this tiny mischief maker really isn't lying.

"Wait--actually?" She looks bewildered.

"Yes, actually," Furret says, her Baby Doll Eyes growing even larger. I am just a little creachur, those eyes say. What could I possibly do to hurt a god?

And then she releases the thief, bursting into laughter.

"Ahahahahahaha! You really did--you actually thought--"

"In my defense, black and gold are my favorite colors," Furret says, folding her little arms.

"You're lucky I believe you. Otherwise you'd be in such big trouble! Oh, I can't wait to tell Mama--they're probably in a rage right now, they're going to be so embarrassed when they find out--"

The thought stops her cold. Oh dang. They actually probably will be in a rage. Come to think of it, they'll not only be mad about the slip, they'll probably think Shirona was purposefully kidnapped as well. Maybe coming out here all by herself was a mistake. Better get back to them before they start killing people.

"Hey, you know how to get out of here?" she asks.

"Give me back the slip and I'll tell you," Furret says, blowing an irreverent raspberry at the tiny god. Now that she's not being pinned down by a sharp-toothed dragon twice her strength even at a mere Level 5, she's a lot more bold.

"Tell me how to get out of here and I'll put in a good word with my mom for you. Leave me here, and you're on your own," Shirona immediately counter-offers, and the creature pouts. Looks like she really does have no choice but to give her new shiny back after all. Darn.

"So where are you from?" the Furret asks on the way back to the entry gate.

"I'm from a world that's...been through a lot in recent times. Some call it Fallenverse, but I prefer to call it Hopeverse," Shirona says. "Just ten or so years ago, we were in a huge crisis where the world was ending--but now that the evil has been defeated, we're recovering. It's not as lively of a place as this, but so many people think it's just a completely broken wasteland with nothing worth living for in it--and they'd be wrong! You should see the Alabaster Icelands in the winter, Jubilife and Floaroma Village in the spring, oh, and the Three Lakes are absolutely stunning this time of year--"

As Shirona's new companion leads her back home, they trade stories about each of their respective worlds; each one's presence, for the other, has a certain quality of home. They may have gotten off on the wrong foot, but both know it in their bones: This is the start of a new and beautiful friendship, one that's bound to last even as they both cross the bright red gate.

-------

"Where is my daughter."

Asimov's voice booms out from the gate to the spirit world, having passed through the first torii at the shrine like their daughter did. At once, the entire street turns to face them and Raya, who has walked in with them. Some look scared, while others give them hard gazes. They don't care. Their child is here. And they will not bend, they will not compromise, they will not leave until they find her.

Raya had tried to calm them. This is as calm as they can get.

"Are you referring to the girl who came through here earlier? The one with feathers and scales and who walks on her toes?" says an old man Ninetales in a kitsune anthro form, looking up from a game of go with his friends. "Yes, she came through here. Wouldn't be able to tell you where she is now, though."

"I want to know," Asimov growls as they approach, "did anyone take her here?"

The man visibly leans away from the intrusion, with a rather snobbish 'eugh, don't come near me' look on his face. Only a few kinds of creatures would be so bold in the face of a deity, and mischievous yako foxes like this one are one of them.

"How would I know if your daughter was taken? I've got nothing to worry about in my life besides whether my buddies show up to Go on time."

"No one took her. She came here herself. It was only by accident that she ended up here. I can sense it," Raya says, but her words fall on deaf ears.

"If my daughter is none of your concern, I will make her everyone's concern." They let out a snarl. "I am--"

Much like Shirona earlier they instinctively try to say Girarceus, but the strange silence settles on them instead.

The fox man smirks.

"You got your name slip stolen, didn't you?" he says slyly. "You've lost a child and your name in one day. My, my~"

The wrath in Asimov's eyes practically ignites at the taunt. But they can feel their mother's stern presence behind them, the only thing stopping them from putting the fear of the gods in this yako. They bare their sharp teeth, and their pointed ears flatten; the yako dares to hiss back.

"Stop," Raya says. "It won't help you find her."

"Then what will?" Asimov cries. "What will?!"

No sooner do they ask that question than Shirona comes pelting back down the street, waving their name slip in her hand with the Furret running behind her.

"Mom!" she yells. "Mom! Mom! Mom!"

The panic, the fury, the wild instinct of a mother dragon--all of that instantly melts away as Asimov runs toward their precious baby girl, scooping her up and whirling her around in a massive hug.

"Shirona," they breathe, placing a motherly kiss in their daughter's hair. "I thought I'd lost you."

"You always say that," Shirona says, as they set her back down on the ground. "You said that when we were at the Veilstone Department Store and Other Mom and I were just taking a really long time in the bathroom."

"I really did this time. I thought you'd been taken--"

"No, I came here by myself. I was looking for your name slip when I ended up here. It was an accident. Promise."

Asimov beams down at her. "You really did give me the slip, didn't you?"

"Yes, and I'm giving you the slip again," Shirona says, unable to resist punning back as she hands the missing paper back to her mother. Then she turns back to the Furret, who's looking down at the ground with the ferret-badger-raccoon equivalent of a guilty cat face.

"And I believe this gremlin here has something she wants to say for herself."

"Oh?" Asimov looks down at her with a sly smile. "Are you the tiny thief who stole my name?"

"I wasn't stealing it. I was...borrowing it. Borrowing it indefinitely," says the innocent, sweet baby fur noodle. "My name is Yumiko, madam. I mean, Your Highness. I mean, Your Majesty. Wait, no, I mean, Your Holiness. I mean..." She looks at Shirona for help. "What do you call a god in your world? Same as here?"

"Asimov-sama or Kami-sama is fine," Shirona says, and Yumiko's eyes go wide. Kami-sama. Oh, now she's REALLY fucked.

"You are quite a foolish little one, aren't you, Yumiko?" They look at her with slightly narrowed eyes.

"Shirona said that too." Yumiko's guilty cat face is back. "But hear me out. I was walking around the festival grounds, looking for pretty things to stea--borrow for my collection. I went into your room. And in you I saw the most prettiest name slip I've ever seen, with the most prettiest names, too. I can't pronounce your big long name and I don't know what Girarceus means, but they both sounded really cool, like warrior names. So I just had to--"

"Voloska Kalonymus Asimov is the Celestica name I was given when human. And 'Girarceus' is a portmanteau of Giratina and Arceus, the two gods whose position in my universe I ascended to," they say. "Do you really mean to say you stole something so precious from me because you thought it was pretty?"

Yumiko nods rapidly, giving Asimov the biggest Baby Doll Eyes she ever has in her entire life.

"She's telling the truth," Shirona says. "I know it. Don't hurt her, Mama." She puts a hand in Yumiko's soft fur. "She feels like a friend."

"Friends don't go around stealing names, though, do they," Asimov says, but their tone is one of amusement rather than wrath or scorn. "Since you seem to be uninformed, I wish to enlighten you. A god's name is important to them, of course--but so is a dragon's. Among dragons, using the wrong name is among the gravest of offenses, and using the wrong name deliberately is grounds for execution. With your youth and innocence, such a punishment would not be fitting, but as you grow older, you would be wise to keep it in mind."

"I promise, Asimov-sama, I'll make it up to you," Yumiko squeaks.

"You will make it up to me." Their voice once again turns stern. "Your kind are experts in the calming of frenzied Pokémon, yes? Then as penance for your transgression, I have a task for you. Forty years of calming the Pokémon of my world who have been frenzied by the evils that were done to it. No more, but no less."

Shirona gapes. She knows her mother is strict, but--

"But that's so long!" Yumiko cries, completing Shirona's thoughts. "I'm only six! If I do that for forty years, I'm going to be...." She thinks for a moment. "Forty-six!"

"In my culture of origin, forty years is symbolic of a cycle of completeness. By the end of such a cycle, you are sure to become more mature," Asimov replies. "You are a spirit, are you not? You will live for far longer than that--and as the years go on, you will find them advancing more and more swiftly. My daughter is six years old as well. You will both be forty-six long before you realize the time has passed. And though you have made a terrible mistake, you will find yourself stronger from it in the end."

"I don't like working, though..." Yumiko looks to Shirona for help.

"Pleeeeeeease could you make it just twenty?" Shirona says, giving her mother baby doll eyes of her own. "Or forty divided by ten, which is four?"

"Four. Four is good," Yumiko says.

"You angered a deity. Those are the terms." They shake their head--and then their face breaks into a mischievous grin. "Now, come with me, you little--"

They scoop the fur noodle up into their arms; she kicks and squeals, but deep down she knows the terms are set. The family exits the spirit world back to the festival grounds with one more family member--and with Shirona the hero she came here to be.

"I would love to come with you! I'm free all day today. Amazing, right? It usually never happens to me as a Champion," she sighs wistfully. "Where's your favorite place for musubi? I have to know for every other time I go to Alola."

She's familiar with a lot of great food places here in Alola, courtesy of Wallace and Archie having Native Alolan heritage and pointing out all the best spots when they go to Alola for diplomacy. And she's always thrilled to try another--especially over a discussion about the most epic match this year!

@forjustice approached!

"Congratulations on a well-earned victory, Ree!" Asteria has a huge smile on her face. "You gonna get yourself anything nice to eat for your celebration? Milk tea? Treats? Malasada? Just say the word and it's on me!"

“Oh —! Hi.”

It’s the day after their big win. Ree’s tired, but they’ve got a lot of stuff to do. The commencement ceremony is still happening this weekend, and they’ve got to meet with the elites, and with the board, and talk to Kukui —

there’s a lot going on. Ree blinks, before giving a short, quick nod.

“Uhm. Thanks. I, uh — I was gonna get musubi for lunch if you wanted to come with?”

[Johto Moon Festival '24] when you're in a making people uncomfortable contest and your opponent is allie desrosiers

[Author's Note: This post references Discord RP events and a version of a muse (Princess Allie from the anime) that isn't on this blog, but I'm posting here because I haven't had the motivation to set up the other blog she's supposed to be on in forever LMAO. @kokorowoutsu would be familiar with this muse and her plot, which will be covered below. In addition, feel free to have your muses hear and/or witness the argument she gets into here. Enjoy >:3]

Of everyone at the entire festival, she must be the only one who isn't happy.

The curse that Asimov--the Paradox Human Volo of Fallenverse--had placed on her had consequences far beyond those he had described to her, and she had a feeling they were fully intended. Enemy to Pokémon, enemy to children--when all hated and feared her, there was not a single place in public she could go without at least one of those two taking notice in the worst possible way. Far from simply having no Pokémon and no friends her age, she was more or less relegated to being a shut-in save for the early morning when no one was around on the streets to cause a scene in front of her. Perhaps, if she were not so foolish as to steal from him, his other self, and someone they knew--and perhaps if she was not so foolish as to attempt to harm his kin--she could have avoided all this. Perhaps if, even if she was foolish enough to do all that, she could have still avoided all this if she had not had the hubris to directly offend an ascended once-human Legendary like Asimov who could be just as vindictive as any classical god of legend could be--combined with all of a human's spite. But she didn't. And now she's here. And now she's angrier about her incurable curse than ever.

The countercurse work of the family of her fae betrothed, Maël Everspark, mattered little. At least most of the Pokémon around her now would simply turn their backs to her instead of immediately startling at her presence, but she learned the hard way that the improvement wasn't so helpful with children when one of them pointed at her and started wailing on the first day of the Festival. Since then she's had to only come on the festival grounds as soon as it opens before too many families appear on the scene--and then on her way out she's had to ninja dodge every child she saw just to avoid a repeat of what happened on the first day. Whatever. She's not going to let that ruin absolutely everything for her. She heard there were some cute Pokémon up for adoption. And if there's any sign that the "enemy of Pokémon" curse has lessened, she's going to get one, whether they like it or not. She saunters up to the Pokémon adoption bazar as soon as it opens.

"I'd like to have a--"

But the reaction of the Pokémon is instant. The three non-Ditto Pokémon remaining in the fields immediately run to where the Dittos are. She looks to the Ditto, which she had shittalked in a group chat just the other day, though now she'll take them because she's desperate--no luck there either. They don't seem agitated--they're too confident and too wholesome to be fearful or hateful of a child, as other Pokémon have acted due to the curse--but this is the one person on the festival grounds who they won't try to impress. One by one they turn around and pretend she was never there. Not only do they sense the curse, they can practically feel the snobbery radiating off her, fully aware they are only a last-ditch choice. They know they deserve better!

The attendant of the pasture narrows her eyes as she notices the response from the Pokémon.

"I don't know. I'm not sure if you would be the right fit," she says, looking nervous. She has worried a little about letting that Volo guy take a Pokémon despite the fact one of them did in fact come up to him. Part of her still wonders whether he had indeed been a full kitsune in disguise, though of course, she could see Airi and the Handsome Ditto looking happy with the man and his family as they romped about the festival grounds.

"Then I want to spin the mystery wheel," Allie demands. She yells to the guy who's running the wheel today. "HEY! Order up!"

The man looks up from setting up the wheel, jarred by her rude entitlement; he gives her a stunned 'what the heck is this girl for real' look before composing himself and calmly asserting the rules.

"Festival staff have the right to refuse service to those who are rude to us," he says.

Allie blanches--she knows she's potentially ruined her chance of getting a Pokémon. Then she puts on the biggest fake smile and tries again.

"I'm sorry, sir, for my behavior," she says, offering 1,500 Pokéyen as she goes up to him and lowkey shoving it in his face. "May I please have three spins of the wheel?"

He squints. He doesn't like the vibes that this redo is giving off, and he hasn't failed to notice the further entitlement in the way she handed him the money so he simply shakes his head. Children must learn that their actions have consequences--a lesson this child has clearly yet to learn, despite having been served so many of them.

She looks like she's about to protest, but then realizes: The main adoption center lady hasn't said no yet. She'll go bother her some more before she bothers him again.

"Excuse me, mademoiselle," she says, "but I don't see why I can't have a Pokémon."

"I'm afraid that won't be possible, miss," the attendant replies. "None of them seem interested in you."

"Well, I'm interested in them," Allie huffs, stepping forward like she's going to force her way in if she continues to be denied.

"We can't give a Pokémon to someone who they're plainly afraid of, " she says, gesturing to the three hybrids cowering in fear of Allie. "There was a gentleman here the other day who seemed to understand that perfectly."

"I'll take any Pokémon. Not just those three. Those Dittos don't look afraid of me. Give me one of them!" she demands, trying and failing to stop the desperation from creeping into her voice.

"We also can't give a Pokémon who doesn't wish to bond with a potential new Trainer." She sighs and shakes her head. "I'm dreadfully sorry, Princess, but we're going to have to ask you to leave."

Leave? But…

"I don't see why I should," she says. "They may not be interested now, but who says they won't be interested later?"

"Even if that were true, you were terribly rude to my colleague. As I've said before, I don't think you're a good fit for this adoption center," says the attendant, firm with an even and professional tone of voice typical of those in customer service when faced with unholy amounts of Karenage.

"I know I'm just a kid who makes mistakes, but trust me, I'm really nice to Pokémon!" Allie begs. "Please--"

"You ought to apologize instead of begging, Your Highness."

"Sorry," she grumbles. "Can I have a Pokémon now?"

The attendant shakes her head.

"My father is a King." A snarl creeps into her voice. "What if I told him to make you give me a Pokémon?"

"Your father has no jurisdiction over Johto, and you threatening us with him has only confirmed I have made the right decision. I will not ask again. Please leave."

Allie stares, dumbfounded. She was sure the threat would work. She should have known by now that there were people in this world that begging, pleading and namedropping wouldn't work on, but she keeps trying over and over again in the hopes of getting a different result. Then she begins to frown. Then, her stare turns into a glare.

"If you don't let me have a Pokémon...I'll take one myself."

She shoves her way past the attendants with little resistance, not even a "Wait! Stop!"--which should have been her first sign that everything that happened past "I'll take one myself" isn't actually happening. In the dreamlike vision that she thinks is real, she tears past the entryway to the pasture and the Ditto flee before her, leaving the hybrids completely exposed. She sizes them up, looming over them as Hana the Munna trembles in her shadow, thinking about who to pick. Finally, she turns her attention directly to Hana, and grins a spoiled little grin.

"I'll have YOU."

She makes a dive for Hana as it, too, turns to flee, seizing the poor creature in her grasp--but as soon as her arms wrap around it like a Pinsir's head-claws using ViceGrip, they completely phase through the Pokémon's tiny body as though she's a ghost. Then the false scene dissolves, and Allie finds her face hitting the dirt in a patch of grass on the edges of the festival, with the booths of the festival far in the distance. Above her, Asimov stands, looking supremely exasperated as he shakes his head--and she realizes that whole sequence past the moment she decided to try and take a Pokémon by force is his doing.

"You haven't learned anything, it looks like," he says disapprovingly. "Tsk, tsk."

She scowls as he walks away on his digitigrade legs. A Volo himself, he has all of Risenverse Volo's self-importance in every step. She glowers at him bitterly as he gets further away, and thinks to herself:

If learning to be better won't break the curse, what's the point?

how to make friends and find a partner without leaving my home or interacting with people