#rockettheory

[earthen-decay-blog]

Clientele || Mathew & Giovanni

It’s a big day. Saffron City is towering, intimidating, and beautiful, and Giovanni isn’t here for a play date; he’s here for business. Beyond everything else in his life, he was, first and foremost, a pokemon trainer. A gym leader, to boot, and not just any gym leader—Giovanni was Kanto’s strongest ground-type specialist. And that was part of the reason why he was at Silph Co, today. The move he developed, Fissure, was on track to become a licensed TM by the end of the fiscal quarter and distributed throughout the region.

He’d just finished going over the last bits of contract, signing what needed to be signed, shaking hands with all of the big wigs in the room when one of them announced they could begin the process that very day. Giovanni, of course, was delighted; there was some sort of pride that came with the thought of his own move undergoing production, and frankly he couldn’t wait to see the fruits of all of his years of hard work.

He was lead through Silph’s halls, listening to his current guide’s ramblings: how the programmer he was going to be working with was new, but talented, young but already proven. Always the skeptic, Giovanni chose to reserve judgement, but he couldn’t help but get excited. With that sort of praise, it was hard to imagine anything going wrong. At least, not yet.

Eventually, they came across an office door, and his guide knocked loudly before shepherding Giovanni inside. “Mathew,” his guide said, “this is the client we told you about the other day, Mr. Sakaki. He developed the Fissure move you’ll be programming. Mr. Sakaki, this is Mathew Jermain.”

Giovanni offered Mathew his most charming smile and thrust his hand out. “It’s good to meet you,” he greeted, “I’ve heard good things.”

[medical-mishap]

how do you feel knowing Gio has his eyes on Mathew?

“Ｗｈａｔ? Come again? Where are you getting this idea from? He can—Master Giovanni can just go—!!”

“………Whatever. It’s… not up to me, who Mathew’s with.”

[mxgmatic-blog]

A secret they're keeping from my muse (for all!)

Maxie: Of the presence of Groudon. 

Mitsuhide: Can sense that Mathew is not from a background of light, but loves him all the same.

[lxnick-blog]

What's your favorite TM?

Lunick looked up at the tall man and blinked a few times. “What’s a TM? Are they something that trainers use?”

[a-mitsuhide-blog]

✘ and ❤ for both!

Maxie:

✘ for an unsent text

[text: Mathew Jermain]: You know, it’s been so long since I’ve even picked up this phone and this first thing I think of is you. Thank you so much for bringing back what I lost. Thank you. 

❤ for a lusty/loving/affectionate message

[text: Mathew Jermain]: Hey kid, my house is past the Mart if you’re feeling cuddly. :)

Mitsuhide:

✘ for an unsent text

[text: こいびと; failed to send]: I don’t know how to use this piece of technology. Please help?

❤ for a lusty/loving/affectionate message

[text: こいびと]: I’m hungry. For you.

[undellabay-rp]

(( May I have a weeks hiatus on Steven? c: ))

Looks like this precious stone needs to be shelved for a little bit! That’s okay; it gives him some time to get polished off and gleam that much brighter!

Have Steven ready and back to shine by 6/15!

~ Rowlet-Mod

[argxnto-blog1]

Snowed In | Silver & Mathew

Plotted Ahead! | @rockettheory

Why in God’s name he decided to travel about in the snow with such light bundling was beyond him. Foolish; it was all foolish. He felt his bones rattle within him, his skin bitten red and he was shaking violently, his teeth chattering. Idiot, was all he could think; God, he was such an idiot. The cold that Johto ushered in was nothing compared to the bitter winds that blew and chilled him to his core, to the stagnant air with the smell of emptiness. He was alone. He was among the mountains and the cold breeze and the whipping snow and the fog and he was alone. Only him. Only Wyvie and him, fighting against the current and marching their way with only Silver’s unprotected jeans and mere sneakers, his light petticoat and gloves that weren’t even thick. His breath ghosted from his lips as though his silver soul was ebbing out of him with every exhale, and he couldn’t see a damn inch in front of him – only the onslaught of pelting sleet; only nothingness for miles and miles of the unknown before him. He didn’t even know if he was going the right way or not, honestly. He could only trust in Wyvie – the only stalwart able to withstand this weather; he couldn’t even fathom the cold long enough to be able to send out Zuzu, and even then, what could she do? She wasn’t built for the cold – none of them were – and the conditions were far too harsh to even be able to flap her wings. It only meant her fainting in no time flat; best not to even try that approach.

So this was the only thing he could dare to think of was hold onto Wyvie’s paw for dear life, and hope his scrappy little friend could see through the cold with his wide, wide eyes, and be able to hold out until he could see some sort of civilization in the distance. But he came to realize all-too-quickly that it was not Wyvie that he should have been worrying about; he could hardly feel the feet he was lifting through the inches and inches of crunching snow; it was only because  of his knees that he could still understand that there were feet at the bottom of them. Part of him wanted to quit. Part of him wanted this all to be over with, wanted to be safe in a Pokemon Center or a warm tub where he could warm up and survive. Another part of him only realized he would get that far by trudging onward, but God, where was he? The only landmark of any kind that he could decipher among the visibility – only about as far as you could see your hand – was the rock face jutting out before him that he kept his hand pressed to for guidance. Where traveling alongside it would take him, he wasn’t sure; perhaps it would finally take him to Saffron City. Perhaps it would only take him further along the mountainside, only to wander aimlessly through it. Perhaps he would just die out here. Route 7… never would he have realized how treacherous it was; but it was nature – cold and unforgiving, making no exceptions and taking no prisoners.

It was useless to even say why he was here in Kanto anymore; the details failed to matter if he was going to die before he could ever reach his objective. But it was all he could think about; he had chased down a set of leads that all culminated to Saffron; he’d even gotten the word from a ragtag scrap of Rocket scum he’d defeated. Perhaps it was a red herring; perhaps the grunt purposefully would lead him astray – but none of that meant a damn if he was too much of an idiot to have dressed warm enough for this weather. He couldn’t even feel his teeth enough to clench his jaw; all of his anger dissipated into shudders. Dammit… How could he have let this happen…? Not even dying at the hands of his adversaries; only in the cold here, fighting against nature because of his stupidity and lack of forethought. Not even a noble death; not even fast – just freezinghere, slowly, slowly…

Eventually, Wyvie’s wide, wide yellow eyes sought to move him and Silver out from the comfort of the moving rock face, and break away from it into the unknown, with only the snow before them and Wyvie’s foresight to be able to see them through till civilization. Silver looked to his partner with untrusting eyes; he couldn’t abandon the one security he had – the one landmark, the one piece of Earth that wasn’t covered all with snow, but he knew – he knew – he would be unable to move forward should he keep going on as he would. His trembling hand gripped tighter to Wyvie’s, before he realized he could hardly feel his muscles flex to hold his Weavile’s paw, and he took his first few steps out into the open cold. His throat was dry and stripped of any possible moisture, and his lungs burned, the mist of his condensed breath sapping away his energy until his skin was alabaster porcelain, cold to the touch, and he could no longer find the air to breathe with.

His world began to grow blurry as he trudged along; Wyvie soon became a watercolor blur of blacks and reds, surrounded by the powdery white like dewdrops. His Weavile shifted into focus, only to dissipate out into the onrushing flurry. He couldn’t see his eyes. Wyvie paused in front of him with a look of concern on his unwritten, lineless eyes and they both stopped. Keep moving, he told himself, trying to command his frozen feet. Keep moving, he tried to breathe out the energy to continue from lungs starved of useable oxygen. Keep moving, he tried to see forward with dry eyes and frozen tears, and could see nothing – nothing but colors all melding together like melting crayons – blacks and reds and whites and blues and whites and blues and whites and grays; soon blacks began to form little spots in his vision, far to the right and to the left and up and down past where Wyvie ever would’ve been, and they grew and they grew and grew until he could feel the crunch of snow against his knees as the cold snaked up his nerves like whiplashes. He swallowed, but he could find nothing to swallow down. Wyvie was holding him now, looking down at him, chittering and chirruping in the little cries Silver recognized as his name. Soon, even then, Wyvie’s cries drowned underwater, and Silver could only vaguely recognize the motion of him being shaken.

Wyvie disappeared somewhere in the black, black splotches that consumed his vision, and the white was gone.

He couldn’t just leave him; this was his best friend; he couldn’t leave him. Wyvie held Silver there as his head bowed back, his chest heaving for the purchase of any sort of air his lungs could still gulp down. He felt so torn; Wyvie knew now that he was too small to carry him any distance, and leaving him would leave him to the elements. He looked around in the distance; unlike what Silver could see, Wyvie knew the city was close; his wide yellow eyes could see the peaks and windows of the skyscrapers ahead that signaled Saffron was near – but not near enough. Instead, his eyes focused on a blur of white and brown in the distance – close enough that it was a few short sprints away, with Wyvie’s feet adapted to run above the snow. The chimney smoked; there was life within it – help; there was helpwithin it. Wyvie looked to the distant cottage with his eyes hopeful, but still, he looked to Silver before him, holding him now in both of his long, wide paws. He couldn’t leave him.

He cried out to the cottage, his low cry swallowed up by the whipping wind surrounding him, but still, he tried to call out louder than it, somehow, somehow to the life within the cottage that they could come out and help him. He called out once more, then twice, desperately fighting off his tears of desperation. He couldn’t. Leave. Him. But after a few moments of his eyes trained on the cottage, no form emerged from it. Nobody came to help him. He would… have to leave Silver there – his eyes closed and skin paled pink, and freezing to the touch, but still breathing, the low foggy mist emerging from his nose and the part of his lips. He looked as he did when he dreamed. Wyvie bit down his lip, finally setting Silver down in the snow there, unable to give him anything to warm him with further than what Silver was wearing already; he could give him no further protection, leave him there – vulnerable. But only for a few moments, he thought to himself, it wouldn’t be long. He pressed his forehead to Silver’s before rising back up, rushing out with his incredible speed to the cottage before him, now untethered to act as Silver’s guide in the slow speed he’d walk through with his human boots deep in the snow.

He approached the cottage with precision, looking into the parted window to see a man there – his orange hair unfurled and drawn down to his shoulders, glasses set atop his nose. Compared to Silver, the man was massive; compared to Wyvie, well, he was still more massive, but he looked just as thin. Either way, he was a human being within that house, and he was help more than anything. He made to move for the front door – knock on it like humans do – but he remembered his skills that Silver had taught him on how to find the ways to unlock windows and sneak into them within. He also remembered Silver’s want to reform the two of them and that no more breaking into houses was something they both aspired for (although, it brought Wyvie great dismay); but this was urgent; his friend could die in the cold now; who the hell cared if he scared the man? Only that… well… maybe he wouldn’t help, and considering his size, the man might be able to chase him off. Maybe Silver’s advice was for the best. He came back to the front door, banging on it intensely, his bison calf cry loud and desperate, tears beginning to prick at the corner of his eyes.Please answer, he cried, please answer! My friend is in danger; please open the door!

Please answer. God, please answer. Silver’s life depended on it.

[sakeboytheory-blog]

Just made a contact button, hmu if you wanna book me to thrash at a show! Big shoutout to the homie @negusfresh for the photos y'all go follow him 💯🤞🏽(Booking: rockettheory@gmail.com)

[sheepyshugo-blog]

Fixer Uppers || Mathew & Shugo

They’d broken it. He hadn’t even been doing anything wrong, hadn’t cheated at anything, hadn’t been showing off, and they’d broken it. Shugo gazed forlornly at the twisted and snapped hunk of parts and circuitry in his hands—it hadn’t been anything special. Just one of his projects. It was supposed to be a mareep, but that was before the jerks that liked to pick on him got their hands on it over lunch. Now it resembled a heap of scraps far more closely than it did a mareep. Shugo let out a long, suffering sigh. Story of his life.

Still, it shouldn’t be hard to fix, if he could find the right parts. A lot of the labs around that floor tended to be deserted during lunch, and Shugo also happened to know that a lot of them tended to be unlocked, as well. It wasn’t like anything ever went missing from them. Well... nothing anyone ever noticed, that was. And really, it wasn’t like he took a lot; just what he needed.

Smiling softly to himself, Shugo scurried a little quicker down the hall, eyes peeled for whichever door he could find that looked open. It wasn’t long until he found a promising candidate; door open not even a crack, but a bright light on underneath. Bingo. Eyes brightening, Shugo yanked the door wide open and prepared to strut inside and take whatever he needed, but stopped abruptly no more than a single step inside.

“Oh—um—” Someone was already inside, and while he couldn’t say for sure.... Well, they didn’t quite look like they were working in there. “Sorry,” he said carefully, “I thought the lab was empty, I, uh–didn’t mean to bother you.”

[auburnmalice]

Rival? || Mathew & Alex

It was an outrage, is what it was. Alex couldn’t believe it. Just couldn’t. He thought Lambda would come back to him. Thought they would always be together, no matter what. Thought that last Valentine’s had been a fluke, that Lamba had never meant anything he said because Alex knew he had been high as balls, knew what Petrel was like when he was high, and he had figured just some time away to let things cool down wold fix everything, and he would have Lambda wrapped around his little finger again.

But no. No, instead, when Alex had sneaked back into the base from his last return trip to Interpol’s headquarters, he had heard the most peculiar of rumors. Did you see that guy with Executive Petrel? someone had said, and someone else had replied, the new guy? The scientist? I heard someone say they were together. Weird, right? And Alex had to agree. It was weird, because Lambda shouldn’t be loving anyone else. He was the only one. The only one. And something needed to be done about that.

He had dropped in on Petrel (in the shower, too—he still had such a nice body, Alex thought) and had done his digging; it had been easy. A quick tease and a quick insult, and Petrel had given him the name. Mathew. It was a sickening, disgusting name, and Alex hated the way it felt just to think it. But it was enough to find out who he was, because there weren’t many new scientists named Mathew. Alex had found him—he was tall, and, well... cute. And little red flags had gone off immediately in Alex’s mind, because that meant this Mathew actually had a shot, that Alex was actually going to have to compete with him, but he hadn’t made it to the top of his training group when he was a kid by playing nice, and sugar, he wasn’t about to play nice.

He spent maybe a week following Mathew around, learning his schedule, his lab, stole glances of him holding hands with and kissing his Lambda, and it was unforgivable. Totally, entirely unforgivable. And by the time today had rolled around, he was ready to make it known. Putting his knowledge of his new-found rival to work, he had taken a stroll down to his lab when he knew Lambda would be off busy working, when he knew that Mathew would be all alone, and when he got there, he slapped on the friendliest smile he was capable of and knocked politely on the open door.

“Hello?” he called, peering in at his rival, “hello, is this Mathew’s lab? Are you Mathew?”

[thekuraning-art]

Welcome to Alola.

Mathew Jermain © @rockettheory on the right as Kukui, Petrel of Team Rocket on the left as Guzma. :D

[branchinginterests]

Couch Hobo || Mathew & Sycamore

He didn’t know whose it was, but Sycamore had been extremely proud that morning to find a couch to sleep on. It was a hard thing to do—to find a lab unlocked or otherwise open was a rare occurrence around here, because everyone seemed to be so needlessly secretive. Perhaps they were all criminals, in a sense, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t be friendly with each other and share their lab space.

So when Augustine had found a lab, door open, light on, but the regular occupant apparently stepped out, he decided, why not drop by and say hello? And he’d gone in, sat down on the couch, and waited for them to come back so he could introduce himself. Unfortunately, it was a very comfy couch—almost too comfy, in fact, and as a researcher, Augustine knew he had a duty to experiment. So he went more and more horizontal along the couch to see if it was really that comfy, and... Well, somewhere along the way, he must have fallen asleep.

It really was a comfy couch.

Sometime later, there was movement and presence, and Sycamore stirred vaguely, but that damned couch was making him so sleepy that he could barely get his eyes cracked for a second before he closed them again and gave a grand yawn, intending to turn over and catch some extra sleep.

[medical-mishap]

Do you really think Mathew loves you?

“!!!!”

“….I… hope he does. I haven’t…. ugh…. Look, it’s just… it’s been a while, yeah? Since I’ve…. and the last guy I was with, he—but Mathew’s so sweet. A-and he says he does. And I should trust him. Right? I don’t—fuck—I don’t…..”

“…..Understanding people is hard. And it’s none of your goddamn business.”

[mxgmatic-blog]

punch card villain - mathew & maxie

starter for @rockettheory

He seeks out only the brightest and finest of the land. Mathew Jermain is a name that constantly appears in even the haughtiest of mouths. Each person he meets lauds the man as someone who will help bring Magma to its full potential. But, they warn, he is of a dark past, formerly of Rocket and other shoddier details. No matter, he can help realize the ideals that I’ve once held within my hands, and have now just begun to manifest. Yes, he is the one that will help me achieve my ideals - Mathew Jermain.  

The man’s lauded genius does not go unnoticed and other teams are already scrambling to obtain him but Maxie, through some pulled strings, has dangled a very large carrot in front of the man’s face - with the promise of being able to better the future of both humans and Pokemon. He knows, from the words that were spread about the scientist, that his fragility was easily manipulatable. Maxie had no need for that. He held steadfast to his ideals and believed that in due time, the young scientist would do the same. The largest part of the plan, developing the tools to awaken the legendary Groudon, was something he omitted from the email he sent to the man:

Dear Mr. Jermain, 

I am Magnus Wieland, of Team Magma. I am here to seek your services in developing Technical Machines for the use of our team. Your recompense will be in the form of a large salary of several hundred thousand and a private laboratory on the team’s base. Your role will be mainly to lead the scientists already present with your vast intellect in order to create new and easily-used TMs. This will be for the betterment of both humans and Pokemon alike.

This opportunity will not last long, Mr. Jermain.

Do not disappoint me.

Regards,

Magnus Wieland

Chief Executive

Magma Tech Pte. Ltd.   

Attached to the email is a simple logic puzzle that contained the coordinates to the location of the base. He sends it off, and links his hands together. All that is left to do now is to await the man’s arrival, and for that, he sends a platoon of his grunts to work on the preparations as the contract is prepared and he signs off the final bits of paperwork.

A grimace, long and thin, adorns his features as he is told of the inevitable delays that may arise or the possibility of an interception of his email. His tracer cookies are already at work, tracking down the email’s journey through cyberspace and when it hits a strange re-routed IP, he knows he’s got the right man. Only a fool would leave his real address up for grabs and he hopes that Mathew is not one of them.  

[shadowedsapphire]

Missing Time// Sapphire Matthew

Sapphire half stumbled down the dimly lit corridor towards where she could have sworn Damian told her to go. Her head hurt, a slight throbbing that she tried to push to the back of her mind as she made her way to where she had been told the lab she worked in was. She wondered why she couldn’t remember it on her own.

She tugged up her sleeve to scratch at her forearm, little tiny injection points irritated and red against her pale skin. That bothered her too, she had the oddest feeling that she wasn’t supposed to be this pale, that her skin should be sun kissed with much fewer scars-- but anytime she thought to hard about her past it caused so much pain.

The door now in front of her was the number Damian had told her, so she shrugged and opened it. Walking in and looking around, she saw a tall, a very tall man in a white lab coat, bright read hair drawing her eye. She cleared her throat nervously, and twiddled with her hands as she spoke up. “Um, hello? Who are you, am I-- am I in the wrong lab?”

[sheepyshugo-blog]

Thankfully, Shugo had some time before his advanced training started—even though his new mentor, Mr. Takahara, was already pushing work on him back at the apartment, swamping him up to his eyes in it, technically Shugo had a week or so before he was expected to actually begin, and that was just enough time to learn his way around his new work spaces, receive a briefing on just how training for two departments were going to work, and of course, getting his big boy uniform. Most of all, he got free time, and even though he was dressed like a common grunt, he was excited—especially since his sub training happened to be in engineering. And that? That meant Mr. Mathew had been right about him, and since Shugo was going to be spending time in the labs for training....

Excitedly, he rushed down the hallways to Mr. Mathew’s lab and skidded through the open door to a stop just inside. “Mr. Mathew!” he greeted, “I got placed!!”