Fuck Off Barry

Immaculate artistry unfortunately wasn’t passed down to the youngest Oak, neither does said Oak find the hobby a fulfilling way to pass time. Green can draw a mean stick figure though, he swears by it.

“Well, shit, kid, you’re in luck. ‘M about to head out to a bar up in Viridian,” He propositions, as if he’s honestly some saving grace for the younger, “Dunno if that tickles you at all but saves you from toughing out an evening with the old man.” Playing board games, watching black and white television, helping gramps up the stairs so he doesn’t throw his back out– whatever the hell elderly people do in their spare time.

Saves Green from coming off pathetic frequenting that damn bar weekly sans a plus-one. Socialization – outside the realm of hazy nights and waking up to an unknown mug – could be good for him too; friends came along scarcely as he aged… though that wasn’t the truth, was it? Green never did have many friends right out of the gate, and the fact still held true after years of repeated failure and picking up the pieces. Ugly attitude (mostly) shed away hadn’t changed a damn thing. Some hold grudges to the last breath, he can’t blame them, he’d been insufferable. 

So, if he made a friend out of tonight, well, that was fine by him.

A bar? Lucas blinks, brow furrowing. He doesn’t really like going places, particularly public places with loud crowds, which is definitely what a bar sounds like. But... it’s really quiet around the lab lately. It’s not that he doesn’t like being around Sam, but things have been awkward ever since--well, the thing they aren’t talking about. Since then, it feels like they don’t talk about much at all. And he hates it.

Maybe... maybe going out wouldn’t be so bad. It’s just one night. What could happen?

Slowly, he nods, putting away his sketchbook. “Sure. Why not?”

And then he hesitates and winces because he can think of a pretty good reason why not. “I’m uh... I don’t think I’m old enough to drink. I have before, but not at an actual bar.”

He decides it’s probably better not to mention that the person he was drinking with was Sam. And even that wasn’t too long ago. It hadn’t been bad though, from what he remembers of it. That night is a little fuzzy around the edges, and he had woken up to a sketchbook filled with some of the strangest drawings he had ever done. So leaving the sketchbook behind tonight is probably a good idea.

Rules: Mark the ones you’ve done. Use your result as your post title. Please, repost and don’t reblog!

“... hate.” Lucas groans and presses his face into his hands for several long moments.

“Deadpan humor, eh? Not my cup of tea, but I can respect it.” Upon finishing up restoring him team, Roark stores his Pokeballs back in his pockets. He considers Lucas’ words. A Fire-Type might work, but if it’s undertrained, then a Shaymin could still whoop its butt ten different ways.

“Puttin’ it to sleep sounds like our best bet. I fear confusing it would just make it even angrier. If it can one-hit KO a team of Rock-Types, imagine what it could do to a couple squishy humans!” He pauses, in thought. “Then again, if the move in question that you want to use is Hypnosis, then that’s pretty unreliable. Do you have a good, defensive tank on you? I might take a couple tries to put it to sleep.”

Roark glances at his phone and sighs. At this point, he’s going to be late for work, no if’s, and’s, or but’s about it. Fuck it. His boss’ll probably buy the story of his truck breaking down and he’ll just take the pay deduction from his paycheck. He doesn’t need anymore stress on him. 

At least Lucas believes his story, so others likely will, too.

“As much as I’d like your expertise on the matter and have it be a Pokemon, these footprints looked human to me. Ain’t never seen a shoe print quite like it, though.” He scrambles about for a pen and paper, and finding what he needs, uncaps it, tapping the end of the desk a bit until he can gather his thoughts. “Some futuristic-lookin’ astronaut shit like this,” he states, drawing the unusual footprint to the best of his ability. “I don’t suppose you’d recognize this, would you?”

As he’s pretty much incapable of any other kind of humor, Lucas just lets that one go and turns his attention elsewhere. A slight frown crosses his face as he tries to think. It’s not that his Pokemon can’t hold their own in a battle when they have to, but... it’s been a while and he’s not really sure how well they would do against a legendary in any circumstance.

He shakes his head. “No, my Clefable knows Sing, do you think that would work? Most of my Pokemon can at least take a couple hits, but I dunno if I’d call any of them tanks.”

Although that’s mostly because he’s pretty sure all of his Pokemon are too cute to be called tanks. Without battles to worry about, he’s got way more time to just cuddle with them. He understands battling and the basics of training, but he’s never paid much attention to the labels people give or the statistics that some seem to get so hung up on. All he cares about is if they’ll sit still long enough for him to get a decent sketch done.

Slight frown on his face, Lucas moves to Roark’s side, leaning over the table to get a better look at the drawing. His brow furrows. “I don’t know. I can’t remember seeing anything like that, but I mostly look at Pokemon footprints, not human ones. Let me copy it real quick, just so I remember what it looks like.”

Look at that. Wally wonders if Lucas knows his face does this little scrunching thing when he stumbles over his words. Just right there between his eyebrows, a little crinkle. And a fair bit distracting if the fact that Wally doesn’t catch Lucas’ response right away is anything to go by.

Which… oh, Lucas said yes. Wally isn’t upset he’s just a little surprised. He knows he asked but he didn’t really expect him to agree to go with him. Wally isn’t really sure he’d do it if some stranger that had used him as a life preserver asked if he wanted to have coffee with them. Maybe Lucas is just the type of person who enjoys helping people? Whatever the reason Wally is currently reaping the benefits of it so he isn’t going to examine it too closely. Instead he tightens his hold on Lucas’s arm in a comfortable squeeze, and urges them forward faster through the last bit of distance between them and the door.

“Really? Great! T-there was a coffee shop close by here I think! I saw it coming in! I wonder if they have tea? Do you prefer tea or coffee? Would Toasty like to drink something? I need to thank him too!” Wally babbles while he ushers all three of them out the door and into the midday sunshine. He can’t help it,filled with giddy nervousness as he is. Lucas has been kind to him despite their unfortunate meeting; he wants to be kind in return. …And leaving him with a better impression of Wally than of a dazed damsel would be nice too.

He folds a hand over his eyes to protect them from the glare of the sun, and looks out at the buildings visible from the doorway trying to recall which one is the coffee shop. He spots it a short ways from where they’re standing, sandwiched between a clothing store and what looks like a bicycle shop. He points eagerly in that direction and starts tugging Lucas forward again by the grip he still has on his arm. Actually, now that he’s thinking about it, he should probably let go? They aren’t in a crowd anymore and he might be making Lucas uncomfortable… Hastily Wally lets go of him and somewhat lamely gestures in the direction of the coffee shop again to disguise his abruptness. “Look! T-there it is. W-we should hurry, it’ll probably get crowded!”  

“Uh.” Lucas has never considered himself to be particularly chatty. Usually, he’s just about the farthest thing from it. Talking means more people get to hear his weird, one note voice. More people get to stare and ask if he’s mocking them or trying to be funny. It’s not exactly his favorite thing to deal with. But Wally seems to be content to fill the air for the both of them. Which... is kinda nice.

“I like coffee,” he manages, once they’ve stepped outside. It’s nice out, although he’s always preferred cloudy days. He tugs at his hat a little, trying to angle it to keep the sun out of his face a bit better. Glancing over at Toasty, he considers the question for a moment. “He likes lemonade.”

His Pokemon have probably eaten more food meant for people than they have treats meant for them. Everyone always acts like it’s such a big issue for Pokemon to eat things meant for them, but as far as he can tell, it’s never been much of a problem, except for that one time Munchlax got a hold of a jar of peanut butter twice his size and ate the entire thing in one sitting, but Lucas is pretty sure that would mess up just about anyone.

He barely notices that Wally still has a grip on him until he lets go. Oh yeah, they probably don’t exactly need to hold onto each other anymore. The streets are far less crowded than the cramped hallways behind them, so he’s pretty sure Wally isn’t about to get trampled on their way to the cafe. Hands in his pockets he nods. “Yeah sure, sounds good.”

“It’s not stealing if I’m related to the dude.” It’s absurd, he snickers, sauntering over to where the missing set of specs finally caught the eye. He’s kidding anyway– mostly. If the scenario were ever to arise, Green would insist he was only borrowing his grandfather’s things. “Besides, these are mine.” Lost-now-found, the simple pair of black-rim glasses sit comfortably atop the bridge of the gym leader’s nose.

Green’s so lucky his eyesight isn’t so bad he fell into a ditch on the way to Pallet and the name Green Oak was never spoken of again, making the trip contacts-less and all.

Not minding his own business, the gym leader’s set of hazel peepers fall to where Lucas’s lie, “Hey that’s not half bad.” But Green wonders why grandpa Oak doesn’t have the kid working on something a little more research oriented; the guy must be bored outta his damn mind. He shoots the trainer a look of empathy, Green knows, he’s been there– though Sycamore usually kept him occupied way back when… and… well, distracted. It’s hard to focus on analyzing data when Kalos’s resident Pokemon Professor is a ten and leaned over tables far too often for Green’s sixteen year old hormonal self to deal.

Mind out of the gutter, Green.

“That old coot always have you down here doin’ zilch while he messes around upstairs doing Arceus knows what though?”

Lucas is pretty sure that being related to someone doesn’t make it not stealing, but he doesn’t really care enough to argue the point, so he just shrugs. Glancing over, one eyebrow rises as he gets a good look at what Green is stealing. Oh. He probably needs those. Unless they’re fake. And... he does sort of look like the type of person who would wear fake glasses for the sake of ‘fashion’ or whatever. But Lucas and his scarf in literally any kind of weather probably don’t have room to talk, so he doesn’t.

He blinks a little when Green comments on his drawing. “Thanks. Been trying to practice more lately.”

There’s plenty of new Pokemon to draw here, so really, if he doesn’t spend most of his time working on that, he’s wasting the opportunity. If he and Sam are going to get started on that illustrated Pokedex, he’s really got to get good. Can’t let a bunch of trainers look at his shitty first attempts at drawing Voltorbs.

“No. I work on other stuff sometimes,” he says, shrugging. “Just got everything done today. Figured I should find something to do.”

@rowansworstassistant

With the gym being shut down (due to lack of access to the storage system… he’s sure Bill will get around to it.. eventually), Green’s spent most of his well-deserved downtime lounging around his flat, munching on Rage Candy Bars (his sweet tooth is acting up), doing jack.

Is this the kind of adult he is? The type who works nearly seven days a week, doesn’t know what to do with themselves when they’ve got a bit of downtime? See, this wasn’t a problem when he was in his teens, he’d skip town so often he’d get complaints from hopeful trainers with the Elite Four in their sight, an empty gym with no Green Oak was very much a nuisance. Daisy thought she’d be cute and start giving out his number at one point, occupying his Sunday nights for years following up until he up and bounced to Kalos for a year. Still, he hadn’t had it in him to confront his sister about it, the woman would be all kicked puppy faces and Green would’ve caved.

He’s twenty-one and the early breaches of twilight were threatening to paint the sky. He’s twenty-one and he’s holed up in his apartment going to town on tooth-rotting sweets. What kind of sad little existence? He’s already taken his weekly trip down to the bar… screw it, he’ll go again. A little socialization will do him some good. What real choice does he have? Red, nor anyone else he considers a friend are around to sate the attention Green craves.

If only he could find his glasses, in which, he hasn’t seen in ages. Contacts seem the likely choice for the particular outing but he’s had this same pair thrown in as long as his glasses went M.I.A. It was starting to bug, his eyes needed a break.

Coat hugging his frame, the gym leader makes it down to Pallet, probably just left ‘em with Daisy. She hasn’t seen them. With the promise of stopping by for tea soon, and she was persistent, glasses-less, he sets off for the lab, and maybe it sounds bad, but he’d sorta hoped the resident professor wasn’t around. Quick in, quick out, no awkwardness in between.

No Samuel Oak in sight, though someone else was. Green gives him a quick lookover, “Lucas, right?” Before turning away, rummaging through his grandfather’s things, “I’m Green, but I’m sure you already know that.”

Kanto is nice. It’s quiet here, though not in the ‘quiet before the storm’ way that Sinnoh is. The place is peaceful, the people are content. Lucas could get used to this. True, he hasn’t seen much outside of Pallet just yet. He hasn’t had much reason to. So far he’s just been following along after Sam since they arrived a few weeks before. Rowan had allowed him to go off without complaint (though with the promise that he would study any fully evolved Kanto Pokemon he came across). It’s not quite a vacation, there’s still plenty of work to be done, but it almost feels like one.

He hasn’t gotten out much. There’s apparently plenty to see and do in Kanto according to Sam, but Lucas would rather... not. The lab is nice and familiar. Why should he have to go outside? Fresh air is overrated. He much prefers staying somewhere stuffy. Alright, maybe he’s been cooped up a little too long even for him, but he doesn’t know where anything is. His sense of direction is fairly good, but only once he has a decent idea of where he is to begin with.

At least there’s been plenty of time to draw. Sam’s got plenty of Pokemon in the lab, so he’s got plenty of subjects to sketch. He’s working on what has to be his twelfth Charmander sketch when the door to the lab opens. Lucas barely glances up. People stop by fairly frequently, although Sam’s busy working on... something at the moment. He probably said what it was, but Lucas had only half been paying attention.

Hearing his name, he looks up again. Oh, right, Sam’s grandson. Green’s name has come up a few times, although Lucas has resisted the urge to ask why he’s called that of all things. Especially since he’s fairly sure Sam has another grandkid with a normal name. Oh well. Maybe it’s a family name. Those are weird sometimes.

△: inspired by the plot of the last movie/tv show I watched

Gilmore Girls AU

It’s not exactly the most typical of situations. Having a parent not much older than him is a little unusual, Lucas can understand that, but it’s all he’s known since he was eight years old. In some ways, he’s pretty sure it makes it easier when he’s having a crisis to come home to tell his best friend about it.

“Cyrus,” he calls as he opens the front door. He doesn’t wait for a response before trudging inside and wandering to the kitchen table. Cyrus is working on something. He’s been trying to get his own business off the ground for as long as Lucas can remember. Lucas plops down in the chair next to him and rests his head on the table.

The hand that lands on his shoulder is familiar and comforting. He still makes a grumbling noise into the table before sitting up to talk. They go back and forth quickly, they always do. In public, they get a lot of weird looks when they rattle off conversations like auctioneers going at it.

Flint followed Lucas out the door, steps eager with excitement at the prospect of both skipping work and exploring a new place. Luckily for him, Lucas was prepared and brought along several flying Pokemon that got them to Wayward Cave in no time. From outside it looked fairly unassuming. A quiet part off the route, its entrance marked only by a small and weather-worn sign. It looked normal. Even so, something about it made him uneasy. There was an acrid burning smell, faint but nevertheless noticeable. He watched Lucas survey the ground and examine a patch of grass. It was blackened, soft wisps of smoke rising from it. 

        He shook his head. “ None of my team know Flash. Hold on a minute. ” Flint paused to rummage through one of his pants pockets, producing two small flashlights. They must’ve been there from the last time he and Phoebe went exploring Hoenn, he deduced, before tossing one to Lucas. “ Not much, but it’s something. ” Fingers pressed the button on the torch to check it still cast a beam. He shrugged. “ At least they work. ”

        There was an air of hesitation around Lucas and he half-expected him to turn back. Surprisingly, he was the first to enter. Flint followed. The harsh burning scent was more noticeable here and along with it was a low rhythmic sound of movement. Flint left his flashlight off, squinting into the darkness. He caught a momentary glow and still in darkness, took a step forward. He switched his flashlight on and pointed it down to inspect the cave floor. It was gravelly, scattered with a multitude of differently sized stones.

        “ Definitely something weird here, ” he murmured, glancing up to look at Lucas. “ Should we look around? ” 

Having left a few Pokemon behind so he could borrow a few flying types to get around more easily, Lucas too was without anything that knew flash, so he took one of the flashlights from Flint with a quiet word of thanks. It wasn’t his first trip through Wayward Cave, but it had been some time since his last exploration of the place. He had a map tucked somewhere in his backpack, although he wasn’t sure whether or not it would actually help.

He glanced over at Flint through the darkness and nodded, turning on the borrowed flashlight. There wasn’t much around but rocks and dirt. Brow furrowing, he stepped deeper into the cave, rounding a small boulder to peer at the wall of the cave. His fingers moved to the rough stone, scorch marks dark against the light gray. “Whatever did this... I think it went this way.”

Generally, going toward whatever had enough firepower to scorch solid rock seemed like about the worst idea possible, but there was a slight nagging curiosity now. The smell of burning... something was more noticeable now too, a strangely warm wind coming from deeper inside the cave. “I don’t remember it being warm in here,” he said, glancing dubiously over at Flint.

Slowly, he moved toward it, motioning for Flint to come along. The cave twisted and turned, winding this way and that. He slowed to a stop as he came to a spot where several paths branched off. Hesitating, he held up a hand, trying to feel for the wind as he looked around. It was then that his flashlight caught something. At the mouth of one of the paths was a large rock, although... it looked as though it had once been much larger, part of it looked melted away completely.

“So... you know a lot about fire types, right? What kind of Pokemon can just melt rock like that?” His brow furrowed as he reached for the rock and then instantly jerked his hand back, feeling the heat lingering there. Biting at the inside of his lip, he clicked off his flashlight and then swore under his breath. “Whatever it was... it definitely came this way.”