laidbarea

[laidbarea]

// Hey dweebs it’s ya gorl Cuil here with an admittedly barebones promo, but I’ve got all my characters in one place now so I’m not horribly neglecting half my nerds! To sum up, I got:

Team Rocket Secretary Bo Escaped Robot Seil Sassy Grumpy Scientist Lester Ultra Wormhole-hopping ‘Ghost’ boy Peter

18+ Mun (would prefer not to be followed by minors, please!), Multiship, OC Friendly, non Mutual-Exclusive but still fairly selective, main verses are all Pokemon but I’m willing to discuss multiverse shenanigans and crossovers! Please Like/Reblog if you’re interested in interacting and to get the word out to anyone else who might want to check my dweebs out.

[RULES] [MUSELIST]

[laidbarea]

Writober Day 5 || Familiar

It was a beautiful day. The sun shone bright against the earth, unhindered by clouds. It was warm and the contrast of cool grass between his bare toes made him feel so alive despite staring down at his own headstone.

Peter Baines. That was his name, wasn’t it? The year of birth and death were the same, though. Was this the reality he stumbled into? One where he almost was? There was a sinking in his chest like his heart was encased in stone and sunk down into his stomach. He lowered himself to his knees, his gaze still fixed on the sun-warmed marble headstone.

It was so simple. A simple shape, simple name, a simple child resting below. Yet he imagined it was so much more than his mother could afford even then, in any world he may find himself in. Peter lowered his hands into the earth, feeling the grass and the soil as his fingers sunk down into it. The dirt was fairly packed. The grass was strong and has been growing for a while. He died so long ago, and yet even now there was so much life to be found, even if it was not his own. The ambient sadness did not linger long in his heart, instead focusing on the simple joy of each little blade of grass soaking up the sun.

His mind wandered to nothing in particular, to the point he did not notice a tiny creature materializing behind him. It floated down to rest on the grass beside him, its dark amorphous body appearing to almost flutter in the breeze. Peter looked down to it as soon as he noticed, offering a welcoming smile to the stump-like creature. Its head looked like the stump of a young birch tree; white with autumnal leaves at the end of its gnarled branches.

It returned his gaze, a smile gradually forming on its wooden face as it reached a nubby hand out towards the lone human. Peter withdrew a hand from the earth to instead grasp the creature’s. It was almost like holding a cloud; like it was something there and yet not at the same time.

“Peter... My name is Peter.” He found himself speaking softly to introduce himself before he realized it. The creature’s eyes seemed to widen just a little, glancing to the headstone as it furrowed its little brows in confusion. It did not linger long, shaking the confusion out of its head to use both hands to grip Peter’s now. It looked at him with determination in its wide blue eyes.

“You want to come with me?” Peter asked in surprise to which the little creature nodded. His surprise quickly turned to warmth and he bobbed his head in cheerful agreement, gently scooping it into his arms before getting back to his feet.

“Let’s go on an adventure, then. It’s a b-beautiful day, after all!”

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commonxscents‌:

As he stumbled along after Peter, it seemed like he was working incredibly hard through the haze of the sickness to process what the other was saying. “Okay so.. not my ghost but.. still a ghost an’.. I’m not a zombie.. Okay, it’s.. good I’m not dead I think.. An’.. you’re not really all that scary for a ghost..” He put a hand to his head, steadying himself as he felt another spell of dizziness set in. “I dunno how I got sick..” Though when Peter mentioned his heart his free hand did travel to his chest. Now that he focused on it, there was somewhat of a dull pain lingering that he hadn’t really noticed much before–considering his head was throbbing more so than it was. “Hmmn.. my chest kinda hurts..” he muttered idly.

He followed Peter until they got to a little alcove in a cliff, just big enough for the both of them. It looked a lot like a nest actually. As Peter tugged at his sleeve, he moved towards it. “Are ya.. sure this ain’t a wild pokemon’s nest or somethin’..? What if they get mad at me..?”

At Peter’s insistence though he does crawl into the nest and laid down. It was a bit softer than he was expecting. Enough to feel comfortable he supposed. “Well, alright if ya say so.” His hands rubbed at his forehead, trying to make the throbbing stop, but just decided to get as comfortable as possible and close his eyes. The leaves were cool against his face which felt nice. “Is this where ya live..?”

“I hope I’m n-not scary... Some people think I am. It’s lonely when that... that happens,” he says, his volume fading towards the end. When Adrian mentions a pain in his chest, Peter frowns, impulse driving him to speak. “It must be strange. I wonder where it went... Do you think it’s hurting, too...?”

Thinking again, what does that even mean? He purses his lips. No point dwelling on it. Just one of many things he would never understand.

“The p-pokemon... the pokemon here are nice. Scared of new people... sometimes. But nice...” He sits at the edge of the leafy nest, not tired enough to try and sleep, but wanting to maybe block any chill that might otherwise reach Adrian. “Live? Hm... for now. Won’t be here long. Never stay long... Looking for something, or... someone. Don’t remember who or what anymore, but... maybe someday I’ll know. But... you know how that is, don’t you?”

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hearthen‌:

“How do you know? Is it easy to read my intentions?” He put his hand to his chin in thought; you could practically see the gears turning in his head. He didn’t understand this human. But.. perhaps it had to do with those strange vibes he got from him. Either way.. his interest was piqued. A human who would throw away his own safety at the mere possibility of making a friend.

“It isn’t that my life is dangerous just.. it’s complicated. But if that prospect truly doesn’t bother you I suppose you could refer to me as you’d like.”

“Y-You were all worried about me just a second ago,” he explains, grinning. “That’s--that’s gotta mean something, right? If you were mean or just didn’t care, you c-coulda just left. Or p-pointed and... and laughed. But you didn’t.”

“My life’s real c-complicated too. Like, I d-dunno where to begin... but it’s fun, most times. I’m h... I’m happy, at least.” He’s quiet for a moment, letting his own words sink in. After a bit he nods, satisfied that it is indeed the case and despite everything, he is a happy person. “But enough about me! Where are you from, Kozu?”

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hearthen‌:

“Hm.. I guess so,” he said, almost like he hadn’t even thought about it. He was so used to being alone, that was sort of the norm for him. Humans though.. humans were usually with others, or their own pokemon.

However, he felt himself somewhat tense at the offer of being friends. It wasn’t that he didn’t desire companionship–maybe he feels he’s been alone for too long.. But this human had no inkling of who he was and yet at only knowing his name he would jump to desiring such a close bond with him. “It’s safer for you if you don’t. You don’t know me. Do you not have any self preservation?”

Do you not have any self preservation?

“Nope! Not when it c-comes to makin’ friends!” He announces with confidence. “I d-don’t know you, b-but I know you’re not gonna eat me or anything, right? Do you live a d-dangerous life? We can... can still be friends even from far away too.”

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Writober Day 2 || A Tale Of Birds Without A Voice

Peter had not stopped to think before running into the nearest shelter to avoid the rain. Every drop was like sharpened ice, burying itself deep into his flesh and chilling him to the bone. He apologized silently as he closed the creaking old door behind him.

Dark.

He stood still for a time, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness... but the shadows refused to yield. Taking a deep breath, he coughed at the stagnant stench of dust and mildew and something vaguely metallic. Not wanting to stand there all night, he began to shuffle forward carefully with his arms outstretched. His breaths echoed softly, cluing him in that the room he was in must have been fairly sizable just by the echoes alone. It took some time before he made his way across the room, his aimlessly groping hands feeling the intricately carved wood of a door, though it gave slightly to his touch as if it were rotten. He opened the door.

There was light--soft, flickering, natural. In the center of the room was a grande piano in pristine condition, barely melted lit candles atop the piano and scattered helter-skelter on the floor. The smell of rot and mildew drifted from his senses, replaced with candle-smoke and freshly cut wood. Though the lighting in the room was dim, everything he saw looked good as new. The rug was vibrantly colored and had a lovely floral pattern woven into it. The floorboards underneath his bare feet felt smooth and sturdy, hardly a creak as he made his way over to the piano.

There was sheet music, but he could not make much sense of it. When his mother tried to teach him the piano, he never could figure out how to read the music. No matter, he took a seat on the bench before the masterfully carved ivory keys. He gently brushed a finger against one of the keys only to hear a wooden thud when the hammer failed to hit the string. He tried one key after another, finding each one as silent as the last.

How sad, he thought, that such a beautiful piano could not make a single sound.

“I have an idea,” he whispered, patting the large but silent instrument as if to console it. Returning his fingers to the keys, he thought back to the only song he ever made progress learning. It was by ear, but looking down at the keys he felt confident he could remember where to place his hands. Whether or not he was correct made no difference, he pressed the keys and hummed what he thought each note was, the simple tune to Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. Humming turned to quiet singing, his untrained but amiable voice filling the candlelit room.

"Thank you for playing along with me,” he said to the piano, withdrawing his hands from the keys and getting off the bench. He made his way across the music room to another door, careful not to knock over any candles as he continued to explore the house. He made sure to shut the door behind him, the click of the door and creak of the floor distracted him from a little sound in the room he just left.

The candles were gone, the once beautiful piano now revealed to be in a gutted state, lacking its ebony and ivory keys alike and its strings all rusted or snapped with age. A quiet whisper echoed out from within the room, barely audible.

Thank you.

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hearthen‌:

Well that cleared that up at least. He also seemed to tend to the injury rather quickly. If he gets a cut like that, perhaps he should try that. He gave a small nod. “Okay, good to know. I wanted to make sure you were alright since you were bleeding, and you seem like you’re by yourself.”

He paused at the returned question, almost seeming like he’s putting too much thought into it. “.. Kozu,” he stated finally.

"I’m g-glad to meet you, Kozu,” he says with a warm smile. “You look like... like you’re alone t-too.”

Peter idly wrings his hands together, eyes glittering with unsaid questions.

“If we’re friends, then n-neither of us will be alone! How d-does that sound? Sound... how does that sound?”

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hearthen‌:

The answer puzzled him. Peter sounded like a human name, not the answer to his question. But.. maybe it was something he wasn’t aware of? He stood up straight again, keeping his eyes trained on this human’s face. At least it didn’t look serious; yeah, humans live through much worse injuries, he’s sure. Though, now that he was closer, there was an odd vibe that came from this human that he couldn’t quite place. That sure didn’t happen very often. 

“Is.. that your name, or the name of your injury?”

He blinks, looking confused for a brief moment before his eyes narrow with soft laughter.

“My name!” He clarifies. Should he name his injury? What an idea, that’s something he never thought of before... but there were always so many, always coming and going... would he ever come up with enough names? He sucks his bottom lip in a bit to try and clean as well as soothe it a bit. When was the last time he managed to get some chapstick? It’s been too long. “Yours?”

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Continued from [Here]

Woah, tall. For a moment Peter just stands and stares, having forgotten the bleeding crack on his lip that’s now smeared a bit on the back of his hand. Who was this? He’s so tall! If not for the gentle question and the feeling of concern Peter felt from him, he might have been a little nervous just from being loomed over in such a way.

“... Peter.” Right answer, wrong question. The actual question entirely slipped his mind.

[laidbarea]

// This blog is still relatively new but hey! Please like and reblog if you’d like to rp with a Groudon OC running around pretending to be human and overall being socially awkward! 

Keep in mind, this is a separate groudon from the one in the RSE/ORAS stories! Please read rules/about before interacting!

Rules About

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commonxscents‌:

When he answered back, it almost took a minute for what he said to be processed. “It’s.. then you.. really are my ghost..” he muttered. It felt like a weight was set squarely on his shoulders. Does this mean he’s dead..? He felt.. dizzy all of a sudden. He put a hand to his head, an attempt to ease his lightheaded feeling before he fell over.

“I.. I dunno what that means.. Am I.. a zombie then? If my ghost is here.. an’ I’m not a ghost.. Oh Arceus I’m dead, why am I walkin’ ‘round..?” Before he realized it, tears started streaming down his cheeks. “I.. I dunno if I wanna be dead yet.” Wait no, he was fever dreaming–he had to remember. He quickly wiped at his face, groaning groggily. “Sorry I.. mus’ be dreamin’..”

“Your ghost? N-No, I d-don’t think that’s it, not exactly” he replies, stopping in his tracks to turn and face Adrian. Tears... Peter frowns, reaching his worn and tattered hands up to wipe at his tears with his thumbs. “You’re n-not a zombie. You’re n-not... not dead. Just sick, need rest. So tired, walking so far, sore feet, sore eyes, sore heart... Not far now, and then you can nap. You’ll--you’ll wake up, and you’ll feel b-better. I promise...!”

It indeed was not much further before reaching a natural recess in a short cliff. It was small, maybe enough to fit two people snugly, jam packed full of leaves and grasses like a nest as a cushioned place to rest. He gestures to it, tugging lightly on Adrian’s sleeve.

“B-Blocks the wind, the leaves are soft. Rest, okay? Peter will stand guard, he knows this place. Knows the p-pokemon. Nothing to be afraid of!”

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fatherdistant‌:

All at once he felt anger rise in his chest and his blood began to boil. As much as he wanted to lash out, he needed to remain calm. Otherwise this would all be for not. His precious flower was taken away from him. Plucked from the garden by spoiled, dirty hands that didn’t at all deserve any part of her. Shared with a world that had no right to her. No right to what was his. His fists clenched inside his pockets and nails left crescent shaped scars in the palms of his hands. Quickly releasing the grip, he shook his head slowly. I can feel it. Now he was sounding like Etienne when he used his Pokemon. What powers were held within this boy?

“Of course…she was taken from me, monsieur…maybe she was too young to remember…so maybe she doesn’t know better than what she has now.” Etienne insisted, shaking his head once more.

“My darling girl wouldn’t run away.” Somebody had to have taken her. She was such a good child after all. So pure and sweet. Untouched by the world around her. Untill she disappeared. Those beautiful red locks were now a disgusting bright shade of pink and her curls were all but gone. There was little trace of who she was. Of his little girl. Whoever taken her had wanted to make sure she couldn’t be found. 

Peter recoiled despite the man keeping himself outwardly composed, as if the very air had become electric and shocked him. He tried to offer the photograph to return it, but it fell from his trembling fingers and his mouth floundered uselessly in silence.

“S-Sorry, sorry, s-sorry--” He stuttered, avoiding the man’s eyes at all cost and bunching in on himself, hands anxiously gripping his own arms as if the pressure and warmth might soothe himself, but his own touch was turning cold and clammy.

Bright lights, cold sterile steel and plastic tubing carrying liquids unknown to him--into him--burning through his veins like fire--

“C-Can’t go back--can’t... won’t go back. Free now, free--” He muttered and murmured, taking awkward steps back away from the man towering over him. He’s not in that place anymore--he’s not locked away, so why does he feel so trapped? Unkempt nails dig into his arms and his muttering faded into small, panicked breaths. Is this him? Or is this her? He shot a panicked glance upwards to Etienne like a deer staring down the barrel of a hunter’s rifle before turning and beginning to scramble away as fast as his clumsy legs would take him.

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fatherdistant‌:

“Y-yes…too long.” Etienne replied, watching the other for a moment. He’d never seen her as happy as she was in that picture. How jealous he was of the people who must’ve made her feel that way. Why couldn’t he have ever made her feel that way?

“Her name is Cerise.” His hands wrung together as he spoke, now looking away from the other. Sure he hadn’t immediately gone to find his daughter when she disappeared, but he wanted to get far enough in his research to keep her safe when he found her. “She’s…she’s all I have left, anything you can help me with…I would be in your debt.”

He looked from the photo up to Etienne, looking concerned but seeming unsure of what to say. It was true that he was looking for her, he could feel that much at least. But is she lost? She looked like a vibrant flower in bloom in this photo, but this man--there was a terrifying intensity in his heart. Would this flower be transplanted to a well tended garden, or hung up to dry to be preserved for all eternity but never truly live? His lips pursed tightly. Images came to mind of a well meaning child squishing to death a bug they meant to pat affectionately.

“Cerise,” he repeats the man’s words again. Peter opens his mouth to speak, but struggles, stammering nothing in particular before going quiet for a bit.

“D-does she want... want to be... be found? She looks... happy.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he found himself flinching, mentally scolding himself. What does it matter if she wants to be found or not? This was a father trying to find his daughter. Did he have any right to question it? “I mean... I mean... She’s... she’s n-not in danger... I can... I can feel that. M-Maybe that sounds weird, b-but... I c-can feel it.”

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fatherdistant‌:

Etienne seemed to study the other as he spoke. For a moment, he felt a pang of sympathy, if he could even feel such a thing. Maybe it just made him think of her. The way she’d looked the last time he saw her.

“Yes, she’s very important to me…” He replied, running his hands through his hair. “She’s me daughter, she’s been missing for…for quite some time.”

A pained expression painted the man’s features as he moved to pull one of the pictures of her from his pocket. Slender fingers unfold the paper as he holds it out for the other.

“I’d…appreciate it very much if you could…”

“Quite some time,” he repeated softly, sadly. So she was like him, huh? He wondered... was his mother still looking for him? How long was he in that place... has she moved on? Peter gingerly reached for the photograph, looking into it with warm but troubled eyes.

“N...name?” He asked, not once looking up from the picture. Bright, soft... this looked like someone he would love to be friends with. She seemed happy and full of life in this photograph. Pallid fingertips trace lightly down the wrinkled photograph, as if touching it would help him to see it better somehow.

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fatherdistant‌:

@laidbare

“This would be so much easier if I didn’t have an entire Xerneas damned region to look through…”

Etienne pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. It had only been a day and already he was so tired of this game of cat and mouse. He’d been so close back in Sootopolis. And now…now he felt as though he was on a wild goose chase trying to find his child. Was she running away from him? He’d have to transfer her as soon as he found her. That way she could never run from him again. A loud sigh escaped the man and he continued forward, stopping once he caught sight of somebody. At least he could get one more in before he wrapped it up for the day.

“Excuse me, you there. Have you seen a small girl with bright pink hair around here?”

Upon hearing a voice, he turned and pointed to himself as if to ask ‘me?’ Peter looked up at the man, tilting his head as he seemed to scrutinize every detail of his face.

“Small girl, pink hair,” he repeated, brows furrowing in thought. “...no. Im...Important to you? Is she lost...?”

He frowned, the word ‘lost’ almost shaking to pieces as it left his chapped lips. Peter could feel something from him, but he could not quite figure out what it was exactly, not yet.

“C-Can... can I help?”

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commonxscents‌:

He averted his gaze, his lips pursed. “I.. s’pose not, no.” This was so eerie, he had fully convinced himself he was fever dreaming. Maybe he’s passed out somewhere.. hopefully it wasn’t anywhere dangerous. If he is in that bad of shape, would.. resting in his dream make him get better in real life? Despite.. he did feel sluggish and warm as he did in real life. Resting did sound.. nice. “I.. o-okay.”

He allowed himself to be pulled along by what he believed to be his own apparition, trying to wrap his mind around what was happening. If.. he followed his own spirit in a dream, would he die..? He almost tripped over his feet a couple times, but continued following anyways. “Are.. are you a ghost?” he asked. Hungry? Maybe he was..? Would eating in a dream make any difference? “I dunno if it matters if I eat or not..”

“A ghost?”

The thought almost causes him to pause in his steps, but he regains his composure and continues on. It was something he genuinely wondered... He doesn’t belong in this world, after all. And a ghost... a ghost doesn’t belong anywhere, either. Lingering energy with nowhere to go except... nowhere.

“I guess... I guess so...” He admits softly, sadly. “I d-don’t... don’t belong here. B-But I don’t... know where t-to go... to go... don’t know where to go.”

No, there’s no use getting all broody! He may not know what to do in the long run, but he knows what to do right now!

“But--but I know where to t-take you! To make you better. You’re--you’re not a ghost. You belong in this world! I’ll... I’ll keep you in it, if I can.”

[laidbarea]

pixylate‌:

@laidbare replied to your post: ❝ At times, I wish someone could rescue me from…

“Have you t-tried… tried… making friends with it, instead?”

     ❝ …I did, when it didn’t used to be in my mind. But it lashed out at me, and I left it. It’s found its way back and clawed into my head, where it refuses to leave. Still as vindictive as ever… ❞

“I’ve d-dealt with... with monsters like that, t-too. Usually they’re just... lonely, or... or scared, but... I know there are some that d-don’t get better.” He frowns, rubbing the back of his bandaged neck idly. “B-But it’s too sad to think they’re all... they’re all hopeless. C-Cause once you think of them that way... then--then they really are hopeless.”