#trainer rakutsu

[pokespefangirl]

Fic update solely focused on Blake for my birthday boy 🎂

[alizardjae]

I am in favor of a White and Blake sibling relationship, based on the short interactions they had during BW2. Specifically a teenage girl and her bratty little brother who constantly get on each other's nerves but ultimately do care when it comes down to it.

[eratosdaughter]

we weren't meant for each other and it's fine

(written before the ending for the B2W2 arc was released/ translated) rakutsu is in the hospital and faitsu visits, until one day she can't words: 2710 cross-posted from AO3

She plays with the blanket on his bed, looks at the boy sleeping with his hair in his face and bandages wrapped around his neck and head, and wonders how he looks like an angel with downturned eyes and full lips and button nose when he’s asleep. Her fingers reach out to the space between his brows, and softens the furrow there, before tracing the edges of his face. She flutters around his high cheekbones, down to the cut of his jawline and to the corner of his lips, almost ghosting them before catching herself.

She wonders how he could smile so brightly, and how his voice was still echoing back and forth between her ears and why it wouldn’t leave her alone even in times when she wanted it to.

She wonders if anything he said to her, any compliment or intent, was genuine and if he had any second let his heart slip like she did hers.

His nurse puts a hand on her back and tells her visiting hours are over, her mum is there to pick her up and bring her home, but she could always come back and visit tomorrow. Faitsu wants to ask how long he’s been asleep, but she couldn’t force the sound out and just nods, letting the nurse lead her away.

She turns back and watches his hand move to drape over the side where she had been, and wants to ask if he was ever asleep.

She spends the school days daydreaming, looking out the window and watching the trees dance with the wind. Mr. Charen had left to be a gym leader, and she couldn’t remember the new teacher’s name, even though she knows she should. Her mother insisted she return to school, she had friends who might be worried, and she smiles when around Yuki, Yuko and Maya- they do enough to get her mind off of the boy in the hospital bed.

She does all her homework and assignments, her Pokemon battling has gotten better recently even with just Foongy around, and everyone’s saying she should challenge the Pokemon league even though she doesn’t want to. Her life is kept within the trainer school when she isn’t off to the hospital. She still calls her mum every night, tells her all the funny things that teenagers get up to and another petty argument that Hugh and Yuki had gotten into, before running out the door, but never misses her mum’s pitying smile when they say goodbye.

The nurses know her name by now, greet her with a smile like she was family. One nurse joked that she should just get an access card to his room, make every visit easier for all involved.

They still question what exactly she is to Rakutsu when they have the time. Surely more than a classmate? They like to tease, and Faitsu always stutters out a denial while her heart wishes it was true.

The nurse tells her that he’s better that night she visits, that he’s awake sometimes but doesn’t speak much, and she wonders if he could feel it whenever she gets brave enough to brush against him. Sometimes it’s his fingers, callused and rough and too grown up for someone only 16, and she counts the discoloured scars and scabs that litter his skin.

Sometimes she’s brave enough to get closer, just to feel his breath and know he’s alive, to watch his lashes flutter with the wind of the overhead fan, smooth every crease he’s got and wishes she knew what he was dreaming of so that she could soothe those worries too.

Sometimes she wishes she was in that head of his to know his feelings on everything, if he even has feelings.

Sometimes she even slips her fingers in between his, brushes her fingers against the gaps that hers are too thin to fill completely, watches their hands intertwined for the shortest time and ghosts circles with her thumb before everything comes back and she jerks away like she’s been tasered. She calls herself crazy when she feels him tighten his grip when she lingers too long, calls herself insane when her heart swears that his fingers close themselves on hers so that she almost fits perfectly to him.

“Everyone misses you,” she tells him every night. She recalls what their class is doing, asks questions before she realises he can’t answer, and wants to beat herself up with every slip of the tongue.

“The girls, especially, miss you. They say they want a cute guy to be around so that class is worth going to,” she laughs, never admits she’s jealous that they could confidently admit to things like that.

Or that she’s jealous they can admit their feelings about him like that.

“Nobody knows about you being in Interpol, Mr. Superintendent. You can always come back, everybody wants you to.” She knows she’s talking to a wall, staring at the one opposite her as her fingers play with the blanket around his hand. He looks too peaceful in the bed, still healing but the bandages around his head have been removed, and she doesn’t know if this scares her more but she’s more comfortable talking to the Him who can’t respond.

“I saw Black and White outside just now, and they told me they hope you like the flowers they brought. I like them, they’re pretty.” She glances at the bouquet next to the bed, the nurses had put the arrangement into a tall glass of water and wrapped the paper around it, and she smiles at the colour it brings to the room.

“I,” she feels her words die in her throat, feeling his fingers ghost and wrap around hers with a gap between. She looks down at him, and sees his head turned away but the expression stays the same, and she wonders if he could hear her all this time.

“I hope you get better soon too, Mr. Superintendent,” she breathes out, and misses the warmth when she has to remove her hand from his. The nurse comes in right after, and leads her out of the room and out of the hospital. She asks Faitsu if anything changed, if he had responded to her, and Faitsu always says no when she’s not sure.

Over the school holidays, when everyone else has gone back to their cities, she stays the entire length of the permitted visiting hours. She’s met a few people from Interpol (“just checking on his condition”), a man called Looker visits more often than the others and he always seemed more worried. She doesn’t talk to anyone else much, but Looker has told her that he’s not returning to the school when he’s discharged, he has to go back to Interpol.

“Oh.” Was all she could get out before she left the room to give them privacy. There was a tugging at her heart that dragged it into her stomach and a tightening around her throat. It shouldn’t affect her that much; it shouldn’t affect her at all, really, but it felt wrong.

Over time, the nurses’ teasing has stopped and she’s seen more pitying eyes. She wonders what Rakutsu has told them and if it’s anything good, though she knows it’s probably nothing. They don’t say anything to her, but she feels like it’s too much sometimes when they whisper to each other instead and wonders if she should give up seeing him awake.

But there’s something inside her that doesn’t like the idea of that either, and it’s become too much of a routine now.

“You know Mr. Superintendent,” she laughs as she starts, “it’s so much easier to see you asleep and talk to you like this. You’re really scary when you’re all serious.”

She has the confidence to hold his hand for longer now, doesn’t jerk away when he squeezes every so often but she does still tense, thinking he’d open his eyes. Her thumb still ghosts drawings over his hand, just to give her something to do when it’s quiet between them. Rakutsu doesn’t ever turn to her, either lying straight or turned to face the window but it’s okay, that makes it easier to pretend he doesn’t hear her.

“I really was starting to like you back in school, whenever you smiled and looked at me. I looked forward to seeing you in class, or whenever we went out on field trips,” she recalls. There’s a hint of familiarity, and she can’t get those memories out of her mind no matter how hard she tried.

Eventually, she realised that she had stopped trying.

“And to be honest, when we were fighting,” she giggles because she can’t help herself, she hasn’t told anyone, not even Foongy yet, “I thought you were really attractive. I was really scared but… I finally saw the real you.”

She feels a squeeze, harder than before, and she frowns, looking down. That’s been their only way to communicate, when he doesn’t want to open his eyes and she talks to the walls. There’s a part of her praying he feels the same in some way, has an actual interest in her after her constant visits when they both know he’s awake. She’s scared to bring it up, and she doesn’t want to admit it but she squeezes his hand back.

“I know you don’t plan on going back to the school, so it’s kind of useless,” a hollow giggle escapes, “but at the very least, can you tell me when you’re discharged? I’ve been seeing you all this time, it’d be nice to see you awake again.”

He squeezes her hand again, lightly and gently like promising a child. Her thumb ghosts a small heart along his skin, and she sees him ruffle in his bed and turn around.

The nurse tells her visiting hours are over, and she squeezes his hand again before letting go.

A week later, the nurses tell her he’s left.

“Oh.” She feels an ache in her chest, almost feels as if she should have expected this.

Why would he tell her? Why would he trust her?

It doesn’t hurt when she has those thoughts, not really. She just feels… something. She’s not sure what, when her feet drag across the floors and people bustle by her, but every other heartbeat feels uncomfortable and every breath feels heavy.

She squeezes her hand, ghosts patterns on the skin near her index finger as she leaves the hospital. Her Xtransceiver sits too hot on her wrist, its presence more prevalent than ever in her mind as she walks home. There’s a part of her that wants to message him first, but she’s not sure if he still has it, or if the number he saved to hers was the same.

So she walks home, on a bright sunny day that would’ve only seeped in through half-open curtains in the hospital room. Light snow falls on her, but the coldness is nothing compared to inside. The air is clearer, lighter, and she breathes all of it in and her mind drifts back to thin hospital blankets and half empty cups. The stuffy feeling in her heart and stomach don’t go away, even as she turns around and can only see the top of the hospital building. In fact, it feels like it gets worse the further she gets.

“Goodbye.” She raises her hand up, in a weak wave that barely moves, and turns back to the path with blurry eyes and a fogged mind. Her steps are slow, unsteady on barely iced over pavements but her body knows well enough how to keep her safe with a preoccupied mind- it’s done that plenty of times.

A honk cuts through her thoughts, and she finds herself in the middle of a one-way lane, almost to the sidewalk again. Her tears freeze on her cheeks, but her mind’s still fogged over as she stares at the on-coming lights of a lone car right in front of her, struggling to turn. Her eyes almost registers them like she was staring through diamonds, separated and sparkling and like a sign, maybe like a blessing even if everything could glimmer like that.

It reaches meters, and she can hear the tyres screeching and see them twisting and she swears she can feel the heat from the front as it reaches closer. The smell of worn tyre reaches her, like a ruined barbeque, and she hears people gasp and calls for her to move, move, movemovemove but her feet stay mid-step on the ice. There’s a sense of resignation in her, when her body stays stiff and rooted and hey, the hospital’s close enough, but her brain freezes because she was never a “fight” person.

She supposes her life has mostly been flight or freeze.

She barely registers a hand grasping her and pulling her away just as the car rushes by, the driver screaming profanities at her as the wind ruffles her hair into her face. In those few seconds between the street and sidewalk, she’d closed her eyes but opening them didn’t make much of a difference when all she saw was black still. Maybe this was some afterlife, not with glimmers but just a neutral one.

“Be more careful next time.” The person whispers into the top of her head, and she realises her body isn’t still anymore and she can look up.

Enough to see familiar shaggy hair.

“Mr. Superintendent!” She tries to pull away, embarrassed and knowing he knows almost everything about her now, but his arms don’t move and she’s buried right into his chest.

He’s warm, covered by a decent layer of fluff and jacket, and she can smell the basic laundry detergent and common mint shampoo and a woodsy cologne and it seems so different from stale hospital but she loves it more. It’s almost too hot, having him against her even through both their layers of winter clothing. He doesn’t move, and she almost lets herself lean more into his chest when his arms loosen around her- enough for her to pull away and look up at him properly.

She wasn’t sure what she expected, but his eyes were still the same glossed maroon.

“Mr. Superintendent, you’re discharged.”

“Yeah.”

She feels her heart pounding in her ears and throat, feels a pressure from her chest to her stomach. It’s weird seeing his eyes, still unwavering and steady and it’s familiar but… he still feels like a stranger.

“Why are you around here?”

She knows he knows, as if he ever doesn’t, but her brain still stalls trying to come up with a lie. She stutters, mumbles something about a classmate, and avoids looking at him as much as she can, shoulders pulled up to her ears. He takes a step back, arms still next to her just in case, and suddenly her own coat doesn’t seem to keep her warm anymore.

He nods, and she figures the conversation is over. Isn’t it supposed to be easier when your conversation partner can talk to you, when there’s actual replies and it turns from talking at them to talking to them? Yet she can’t even bring herself to look at him, words not even managing to form as they stand at the sidewalk awkwardly.

Looker calls out from somewhere else, loud enough for her to know that he’s close by. Both of them turn to look at him, and Faitsu knows time is up. She looks to Rakutsu, who’s already looking at her again, and gives a small smile.

“Thank you, for saving me I mean.”

He nods, and there’s something in his eyes that are different, but she can’t really tell what.

He walks towards where Looker is, and she almost calls tries to stop him after his first step, but he gives her a wave and she can’t. So she stands and watches him walk away, and maybe there is a small part of her that hopes that he’ll turn around and say something but he doesn’t and she can only watch for so long before she hears herself sniffling.

So maybe this is it, this is all they’re meant to be.

[bokuzi]

Kinda old drawings :0

[newsadswan]

sic n tired

[surreal-duck]

Unova kiddos hanging outt

[incorrect-pokespe-quotes]

Blue: You have to learn to trust people.

Lack-Two: Don’t you mistrust everyone?

Blue: Yes, but this is about you, stay focused.

[shawms]

Tea and Coffee 🍵☕  ft. Faitsu and Rakutsu

[pk-freezer-burnt]

Cursed pokespe dexholders...

[brxkenmxchine]

Fuckers rotated my Dewott, can't have shit in Unova

[tornsart]

Look, my niche is the flower thing

[pokespefangirl]

Excerpt (Rakufai)

---

The bar near empty, Looker sat near the younger officer, lit up by dim yellow lights as the bartender left their company, having set the yellow drink right in front of Blake.

It was a welcome distraction from the destructive and unnatural events of their day at work, that was all.

"It was a hard day today, wasn't it," Looker sighed, arms folded back, face relaxing in a smile as he leaned back on the bar chair, "reminds me of how it used to be, between you and me, back in the day."

"Even after the danger you put us in today," Blake started, stiff as usual as his hand wrapped around the wine glass, "you're overly familiar. Don't forget that I'm still your superior."

The elder smiled, eyes gentle and understanding, voice insinuating a paternal tone, "You're still going to keep that up, aren't you?"

Blake remained quiet, eyes reflecting the colour of the auburn wooden bar in front of them.

"Tell me, Superintendent." Looker started, lips quirking as he registered what he was calling him, even if it was not all too serious-

"You like the sweet Detective, don't you? I've seen the way you look at her."

The younger's usually vigilant red eyes turned serious, focused, "What do you mean by like?"

"Between you and me," Looker said sheepishly, "we haven't always been truthful to each other, partly through my fault, I admit. But now," the black and grey-haired elder paused, but the pause felt calm, waited for, "we could at least try to be honest to each other, right, Superintendent?"

Blake's eyes narrowed temporarily, at that, "I feel like you're calling me Superintendent in a different way from what it means."

But Looker's wise gaze never left his side, "What made you fall for her, Inspector Blake? I'm sure I'd like to know."

Blake hesitated at first, only to surrender to the elder Detective's questionnaire.

"She has a lot of faults," he started, eyes narrowing, "for example, she's stubborn, but she has a lot of admirable traits too." His eyes turned soft.

"She's filled with her goodhearted nature, and she always sees the best in people. She sees the best even in someone like me," he paused, "she gives me hope that there is something better... even for me."

"She makes me believe in myself, that's what I like about her."

"I see," Looker sighed, smiling at the way the younger took a swig from his drink, "I'm glad you have someone like that. Someone you can trust. Honestly, I see all those traits in the sweet Detective. She's definitely one of the good ones." He looked at the younger, "And you are too, young Superintendent."

The phrase clarifying as "young" made Blake raise his eyebrow. "Don't push it," the Inspector answered, but still sat there in the quiet and orange bar with the elder officer.

In comfortable silence.

---

Excerpt from future chapter of NYPD Invigilators

Fic link https://archiveofourown.org/works/50076088

[alizardjae]

Team Blake, formerly of RiverClan! While Blake was a promising apprentice, he never quite fit in well with clan life, even if he pretended well enough. After helping to fight off Ghetsis' rogues, he left to be a loner alongside Dewott and Genesect. Kelden set off to find him.

In order: Blake, Kelden, Dewott, Genesect, Kabutott, Gliscott, Escavalier

Warrior Cats AU Masterpost

Team Black - Team White - Team Whitley

[yellowieart]

c-can i ask for duo yellow-rakutsu? tq

I will be dead and in peace if this two ever interact. Their dynamic mostly be like yellow overuse her power and be sleepy and lackky have to support her

[digitalsnail]

let’s go ponyboy

[newsadswan]

Lack-Two version of the first volume cover of pokéspe! I really need to learn how to do shading.