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theres too many pokemon games where you play as a kid whos full of life and full of potential. there needs to be a pokemon game where you play as a college dropout who lives in a shitty apartment
your starter pokemon are trubbish, rattata and glameow. which symbolise the trash you keep forgetting to take out, the rats living in your walls and the stray cat you keep trying to befriend but it keeps hissing at you.
you guys dont get it its not supposed to be dark and edgy its supposed to be living in a mundane setting and slowly rediscovering the wonder in the world by going on a journey with a magical trash bag that is your friend, its about love and recovery and coping with the stress of your adult life with your friend who is made of sentient garbage
You get home from work. Finally. The sun's already set outside your apartment window. At least your apartment has a window.
You discard most of your work uniform in the corner with the other laundry and click on the TV before landing in your couch with a heavy sigh. The blue light of the TV floods the otherwise dark room.
"Joining us today for an exclusive interview is Red, four time Pokemon League Champion, who also famously disbanded criminal organization Team Rocket at least twice! Thank you so much for tuning in."
Pokemon league champion, huh? You think to yourself. You used to want that. A child's dream - it was silly, really....
You'd heard of Red - of course you have, you don't live under a rock - but this was the first time seeing them up close, no filter. They looked tired. They actually looked about your age.
"Now Red," the reporter continued, "You've already told us about your travels through the world, your experiences as Champion, and your fight against Team Rocket and similar criminal organizations. I know we're almost out of time but there's one last thing we'd like to hear from you - do you have any words for the future generation of Pokemon trainers? Any advice for those just at the start of their journey?"
The Champion waited a moment before answering: "Yes. I meet a lot of people. A lot of people who used to want to be trainers. And I understand, it's not for everyone. But, people say 'Oh, you're still going at your age?' or 'Oh, I wanted to when I was younger,' or 'Oh, I couldn't now, I'm too old.'" Red shook their head sadly. "These people are my age, maybe even younger. They're wrong. It doesn't matter how old you are and it never did. It doesn't matter if you never got a Pokemon from the local professor at ten years old. It's not just for children. It's for everyone. The bond between people and Pokemon is not something you miss out on just because you had to grow up."
Red pauses again, and you realize you're paying more attention to the program than you thought you were.
"Pokemon are everywhere. The world is filled with magic. It's never too late."
"It's never too late..." you repeat under your breath. Something about the Champion's words clicked inside your brain. The world is full of magic....
As if on cue, sounds from within your apartment catch your attention: Rustling in your garbage can, scrabbling inside the wall, clawing at your window.
Cautiously you approach your trash can. It smells terrible, but then again it always does. You slowly lift the lid, and the rubbish inside shifts to reveal a green bag with white eyes. You knew that Trubbish were born from waste and preferred unsanitary environments, but you didn't think it'd been that long since you took the trash out.
The Pokemon shuffles to try and hide and knocks the bin over in doing so, spilling itself out onto the floor. You chuckle a bit.
"I guess now the trash can take itself out," you joke. The Trubbish seems upset by the quip. "Oh no, no, it's ok," you correct yourself, trying to spare its feelings. You find this creature, born of rubbish against its will, to be relatable. After all, you didn't ask to be in this trash heap either.
"It's ok," you repeat, more softly this time. "I'm. I'm trash too."
The stench from the trash can starts to dissipate as the Trubbish's... bag ties? ears? perk up at the attempted sympathy.
[A bond has been formed.]
~~~
[INVESTIGATE WALL]
You'd always blamed the noises coming through the walls on the neighbors, but this is too close to deny: it simply isn't a human-made noise. You locate a crack in the wall that you hadn't noticed before. The sound is getting louder. The sound is getting closer.
A piece of drywall crumbles away. You have just long enough to think Damn, I'm not getting my deposit back, before a very startled Rattata leaps through the newly made hole and bowls you over. You land badly on your ankle and let out a cry of pain, crashing to the floor.
That's definitely sprained... you think, holding your injured foot as you lie there in temporary shock. The Rattata seems apologetic. It vanishes back into the wall for a moment.
You swear. At least you have a compression bandage in your first aid kit. While you contemplate how best to stand without putting yourself in further pain, the Pokemon reappears, carrying a small blue fruit in its mouth. It drops the fruit beside you and rolls it towards you with a paw.
An Oran Berry, you recognize. Of course - Pokemon eat berries when they're hurt. Touched by the gesture, or perhaps not wanting to hurt the little creature's feelings, you take a bite.
It tastes terrible, but you power through it; you've eaten worse. Either by the berry's healing properties or the Pokemon's kindness, your pain eases a little.
[A bond has been formed.]
~~~
[INVESTIGATE WINDOW]
You go to your window and struggle for a moment to pull up the tattered blinds. You see two glowing eyes in the darkness. A Pokemon? They certainly don't look human, anyways. As a matter of fact, they seem familiar. The impatient scratching continues.
You open the window. A small, cat-like Pokemon hops inside, as if indignant at being kept waiting. You recognize this pokemon by the notch in its ear as the stray Glameow you've been trying to befriend.
It hisses at you. Which, for this particular Pokemon, is typical. As you go to shut the window you notice that it's favoring one of its legs while it walks.
Is it injured? Did it come to you for help? You were pretty certain this pokemon hated you. But, sure enough, you notice a cut on the Glameow's leg as it hops up onto your couch, as if it already lived here.
The Glameow seems to be avoiding eye contact. It occurs to you that it may have had no where else to go. You rummage through your cupboards to try and find a remedy. You remember seeing on the news that lemonade can be used in place of medicine for Pokemon who are injured. Moo Moo Milk is better, but you don't have any. You stopped buying it because it always spoils before you remember to drink it.
You had exactly one can of lemonade left. You crack it open and pour it into a bowl. The Glameow hisses again when you offer it, but soon gives the liquid a sniff before drinking it slowly.
You never realized how quickly Pokemon could heal. After it finishes its drink, it allows you to pat it on the head...
... for about two seconds before it hisses again. Still, the little Pokemon doesn't try to escape. It simply curls up on your couch and falls asleep.
it turns out that making big positive changes in your life is great but it also forces you to reckon with the years you spent not really living and makes you feel like you're carrying the corpse of a 20 year old girl on your back
they literally taught you that trans people were subhuman and that you were better than them. I don't know if you can be trusted around other trans people
me: "lol wouldn't it be crazy if trans communities treated ex-christian trans people who survived religious abuse the same way they treat trans women who they call 'male socialized'"
some of you, for some reason: "wait hold on that's a great idea"
very interesting rorschach test this post has become. some of you identify with the excluders, and then meanwhile every Muslim or ex-Muslim responder has identified with the excluded
let's all have a trans women + Muslim movie night. the theme will be "Forever Tainted by our Upbringings, Apparently"
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itβs crazy that i have to live the rest of my life knowing that any time i see anyone use the βοΈ emoji for emphasis itβs almost definitely my fault
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Ooh! Spot the industrial safety device! The worker has to press a 'stab the cheese' button with both hands. This is because if they're doing that, neither of their hands can be within the cheese stabbing zone.
Recalling the first day of filming, Tierney says that after seeing the pair excel in the emotional wringer, his own βnerves were out the window, I knew I could throw anything at those guys.β
there's like 10,0000,0 accounts with names like "Best Heritage Posts" and "Tumblr Hall Of Fame Posts" and "So Funny Hellsite Posts" but where's the shitty posts accounts. where's the hall of fail accounts. i want to see the worst of the worst
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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in elementary school i figured out how to customize the classroom desktop's autocorrect to make Word change whole sentences. this made it appear almost like the computer was responding to you. you could, for example, type in "where did i put my keys", hit enter, and watch it switch to "you put them under the couch". this was before chatbots, and we were all 9 so i considered it closer to a magic trick than a tech one.
i immediately scripted out a dialogue exchange between me and a girl who had died by the swings (classic). i invited another student over and told them i had found a ghost, then proceeded to type out the pre-scripted exchange. i was immediately pulled into the counselors office. the kicker was that none of the adults could figure out how i did it. i had to show them the menu and everything.
yousharknotpass
origamiaround
2087
dailybridgerton
vaporwave
izzy806
blakekathryn
