#celioplusplus

Watch as he reaches out to push his hand against the back of her head just to spite her on that

Whirls around and grabs him by the shirt, before dragging him several centimetres into the air.

“Lay those greasy, cheeto-dusted fingers on me one more time...just one...

One Island, Sevii archipelago. Usually such a peaceful place. Usually such a peaceful, boring, UNASSUMING place, far, far away from the chaos and noise of Kanto’s big cities. Just a splatter of dull little dirt mounds on the fringes of civilisation. Nothing exciting ever happens here, except her. She’s counting on it—the last place interpol would ever think to look for her.

Unnoticed by the neighbourhood watch, the door to one of the island’s quaint little cottages sits ajar. The light early-evening breeze pushes against the wood to make it sway, just a little bit...sunlight and stray seeds floating merrily down the hallway within, innocently unaware of their own intrusion. All is still, and quiet, save for the stray whimper that drifts from the open window atop the abode of local programming wunderkind, “Celio”. A villager had told her the name. Reluctantly, their eyes full of distrust as their gaze bore a hole at the centre of her stained brand name t-shirt. She reeks of outsider. The sound carries meekly upon the wind, only to drop before it can reach any pair of listening ears. But then, who would even hear in this dead little village? The trees?

“Your trainer’s taking his sweet time, huh.”

The sound of squealing intensifies. Clarissa tightens her grip around the lush, leafy appendages sprouting from Hopps’ head and pulls firmly. The vegetable’s beady little yellow eyes scrunch in pain, its stumpy pink limbs squirming ineffectively against the (stained, brand name) shirt of its captor. Clarissa regards the thing’s struggle with disinterest, cold blue eyes watching passively as she twists the branches further, listening to them stretch and creak.

Hopps’ wails die out into a silent, open-mouthed scream, the tiny creature’s lungs clearly exhausted as its breath rasps in hurried, quiet gasps. Clarissa lays with her back to Celio’s bed. One leg bent at a relaxed angle, the other dangling so that the toe of her boot just scrapes the floorboards...greasy hair strewn across the pillows, her fingers tangled in foliage.

BLEASE……… THE MORE BOXDEVS THE MERRIER…….. HEARTEYES

Touya let out an aggravated grunt at his game. He had been sitting in the lobby of a Pokemon Center, waiting to be serviced (there was some problem with the Box System someway somehow that caused a delay, and a backlog of people built up in the Center).

So, the young man decided to whip out his handheld while he waited and play a bit of Real Animals: Light/Dark (he owned a copy of Light, because he totally dug the lion). Hopping on local wi-fi, he wound up playing a Real Animal match against some rando. And... he was summarily beat. Undaunted, Touya requested a rematch. And he was summarily beat again! Now Touya was irked.

There was absolutely no way this other person’s team could move so fast! They had to be cheating or, like, like, using hacked Real Animals. Touya looked around the Center, eyes scanning the amassed crowd. Being local wi-fi, it meant whoever Touya was playing against was somewhere around here. And all Touya had to do was track them down... and get to the bottom of this hax.

I want cupcakes >:T

“ Alola there ! 

Ah, pardon my rudeness but...you happen to look familiar somehow ? I know we haven’t met but, i feel as though I know you from somewhere ? “

The Captain tapped his chin, rose colored brows furrowed somewhat in thought. His mind recollected to the several articles and books Ilima has studied. He remembered reading several articles about different region’s Pokemon Storage programmers, fascinated by Alola’s own Mr. Molayne.

He snapped his fingers, eyes brightening as he finally remembered.

⊰ ⊗ ⊱

                    His scream was loud enough that he’d believe the folks down in town way to the far south of the island would be able to hear him. That was an exaggeration — Kindle Road was a long and rugged path, and he was far too far away from any other houses within his own home nestled in the shadow of the volcano for anyone to ever realistically be able to hear him, but it really was very loud. he had good reason to be loud. With how sharp her teeth were, Celio figured it wouldn’t be that far fetched to suspect that she may very well have drawn a bit of blood.

                    It didn’t leave him with very much time to question why in the world Amanita would be biting his leg before he instinctively kicked her away and stumbled backwards, his knees bending so he could give his injury a quick once-over.

                    "What — what the hell are you doing??!! That hurts!!”

What was she doing? Wasn’t it already obvious from her dishevelled lab coat, and her harried expression that she was in a pinch? No girl ever got on their hands and knees unless truly desperate -- she wasn’t even going to get started on Celio’s language, but she had seen much worse used on the Internet. (Truly a marvellous place. According to her big sis, the things they wrote about Celio and Bill there would turn a luvdisc a few shades darker than it already was. Amanita didn’t know if it was true, though.)

Amanita touched her face. No, her glasses hadn’t magically returned to her face yet. Thankfully, Celio hadn’t kicked her in the face, either. Who would have thought that coming to Celio’s place would result in misplaced glasses and attempted domestic violence?

She shrieked back, because it was only fair to.

It certainly wasn’t any secret that Celio was no Pokemon trainer, but that was precisely why Hayley had decided to give him the bundle of fluff that was contained in the Quick Ball she had placed in his hands. His Pokemon were typically free to relax and do what they wanted.

    “Of course I’m sure! That little guy is too timid to battle. I tried to train ‘im myself but he just didn’t want any part of it. I think he’d be much happier with you.” She explained.