AURA FOUND.

Lorenz took the complete dismissal of his complaints with the same indifference he was given. He was barely paying attention to Antonio’s rebuttals anyway, as Sulfur stomped back to his side and laid down on the floor, curling up at his feet. The opponent’s Pokémon may not have succeeded in piercing his thick scales, but he was nonetheless bruised pretty badly here and there.

Nothing that could leave a permanent scar, thankfully. Lorenz took a spray of Hyper Potion from his bag and crouched in front of the humongous Water-type.

“I didn’t hold back out of the goodness of my heart, y’know.” He told the other, all while tending to his Feraligatr’s wounds. “The bastard will already remember me for the rest of his life as the reason his nose goes sideways. If I let my Pokémon kill his, he’d have made it some kind of personal grudge or something. The last thing I need right now is an obsessive stalker.”

Not that that Granbull probably had much longer to live anyway. Even if it recovered after Sulfur viciously dislocated its front leg, Lorenz would bet the poor beast was so toked up on Berserk Gene it was more likely to die of a violent seizure than in the arena.

Speaking of which… As he glanced down, he noticed the bloodstain on his pants had gotten larger. He would probably need to tend to his own wounds next.

But this urgency quickly left his mind as the hostile host kindly pointed out he was likely not getting much out of his little act of mercy. He rose back up and stepped right into his vision, blocking the arena from view.

"Eat my ass. I’m the underdog no one bet on. I got you more than your usual earnings for that kinda match, didn’t I? You’ll pay me what we agreed on, and that’s that.”

He sat back down, looking for another Potion in his bag.

“The morons you entertain love to have some kind of heel performer to rally against, don’t they? I’m just sayin’, you may not want to scare me away just yet.”

“Get a stalker; kill ‘em. Simple.”

One of the gleaming red mechanisms strapped to his hips shuddered, jittered. Without even a downward glance, Antonio stilled the quakes with a firm but gentle hand. He knew who it was.

As the other man became increasingly agitated at the notion of not getting what he was promised—always a bit of a lie, those first earnings, to lure them within the Amphitheatre’s serrated maw—Antonio swirled the now lukewarm water around the plastic coil. Another hearty glug. Though, it was hard to keep his eyesight elsewhere when the man stood, squared, consuming much of his view.

Antonio heaved a sigh.

“Are you deaf or somethin’? I said I don’t control payouts. Yeah, I can give an estimate for initial earnings but ultimately that’s admins’ job, not mine. You can blubber and whine all you want, hell, piss on my shoes if you get your jollies that way—they’ve got final say on the matter.”

He glanced sidelong at the burly though wounded feraligatr laying a few steps sideways from his seat. Antonio would rather not have his head bitten off out of malicious whim, though he’d also not dare show even a glimpse of fear nor anxiety. Instead, he kept his face rigid, annoyance beginning to peek through the thick, arrogant mask.

THIS IS A MIA SUPREMACY BLOG.

some small facts about miasmic (mia) the muk —

her personality much resembles that of a dog. a really sloppy, wet, stinky dog.

she’s incredibly loyal to antonio and questions very little of what he does. she’s just happy to be here!

she’s bigger and heavier than the average muk statistics. antonio feeds her well and she loves it.

she can change, to a certain degree, the density of her body. she can range from something that’s watery, to something that resembles elasticity. having a giant, green blob slingshot herself into the sky and aim for you? absolutely horrifying.

with antonio being part of an international-wide criminal syndicate, with intricate webs as far as the eye can see, sometimes people have to do the dirty work. in incidents where those with lush lands (normally those either with riches or farms) have refused to pay their debts or try to rebel against the criminal syndicate for one reason or another, especially in incidents where the organisation attempt to procure the land with nefarious money and conditions, there will be consequences. it hasn’t been the first time, and antonio doubts it’ll be the last time, where he and other people with poison-affiliated pokémon have been ordered to travel and use their partners to make the land barren. this is especially effective on farmers, or other individuals relying on their land. mia loves rendering a plot of land almost worthless, mostly because she had fun drooling and rolling around on it in the process.

mia relies predominantly on her ability to poison an opponent. after poisoning them, whittling them down, she elevates her defenses and starts the tanking process. she can withstand a lot of punches.

even though antonio is mean to many people, he adores his pokémon wholeheartedly. he doesn’t like others knowing this adoration, however; in incidents where mia might attempt to demand rubs or food in the presence of those who would upturn their nose at such things, he may slight or scold her to get her to cease. she gets very upset when this happens. antonio tries to promptly regain her trust by lavishing her in affections and food.

The music thrummed through feet and further still; it was as though their very bones could feel it, quivering amid the tides of rhythm. Just as powerful on the nostrils as the music unto eardrums, the malodour of alcohol and sweat and everything in-between hung heavy in the air; for those unacquainted, it might’ve spurred their nose to wrinkle or lunch to disclose. Though, that being said, the scent here was a skip and a hop better than the stench that bled from the establishment’s shitty, cramped bathrooms. 

Bars like this were Antonio’s stomping grounds, here in Unova. Some he’d worked in hopped stints, others he just frequented because of the drink. So, here he was. A sweet though hard cocktail in hand, his gaze rolled over the bobbing wave of heads that shifted and swayed in time with the tunes. Their auras rocked in turn; a plethora of colours and textures and interpretations overlapping and ultimately gone with the wind. He tried to retract focus from the onslaught of information.

Despite that very much genuine attempt, Antonio wasn’t oblivious to the way the auras towards the back stuttered and spread. The crowd eventually parted, the sea of people splitting as a tower of a man strolled on through. 

Whoever he was, he commanded a presence. A mane of hair sprouted from scalp and chin alike, fanning out much in the fashion of a pyroar—prideful to a fault. His garb, smooth and rich, and by arceus, his height. Someone this tall was a rare find, and most individuals he passed by had to crane their heads so far skyward that it looked like they’d spark a crick in their necks. 

His aura, however ... unique. Strong, pulsating, daring to encroach upon those that surrounded him—but certainly soiled with a tense, taut underbelly of malice. Ill-will. Consider Antonio’s interest piqued.

A flippant, beckoning gesture towards the bartender. She whirled on by, a glass in hand, brow quirked skyward. “Get this man something—whatever he wants. But only a glass,” the words were purred, dripping with intrigue. Antonio swirled on his seat to face the towering individual, a smile plumping his cheeks, skin illuminated by the bar’s vivid blue-pink gradient. Even if this seat bolstered his height a smidge, it was nothing compared to man looming now beside him.

Antonio wasn’t one to feel small, but gods did this man test that conviction.

           @lunation​ asked:  ✏️

FROM THIS PROMPT.

Antonio cast a scowl at whomever managed to sneak a peek at his sketchbook. It was rare for him to take it out of the commentator’s booth; it was mostly only Julie who knew he enjoyed such a cultivated pastime and he was intent on keeping it that way. 

For as long as he could, anyway.