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morty/lyra, red/yellow
Both requested by anons.
Title – Impulsive Ageing
Author –
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ibuberu Fandom – Pokéspecial
Characters – Red/Yellow
Rating – G
Genres – Romance
Summary – It felt like the second time she was falling in love.
Yellow surveyed her reflection in the mirror of the dresser as she coaxed her hair into a ponytail. She was clad in the travelling clothes she had yet to outgrow, despite all the years of wearing and journeying around the region. She scrutinized herself, reading her messy hair and shy eyes on the clear surface of the mirror, remembering the times when she had fought alongside the rest, when she was younger and everyone had been together – when they had entertained the dreamlike idea of living together for the rest of their days.
She sat on her bed with a pencil propped against her cheek, namesake eyes scouring the checklist she had written in her notebook, right next to a sketchy drawing of two pikachu and a pichu huddled between them. She double checked the items she had fitted into the little knapsack lying idly next to her on her blue blankets, ensuring that she had sufficient bottles of potion and full heals, as well as a coloured map of the mountain and enough canned food. As she did so, her face wore no emotion greater than wavering determination, and while her hands that knew what they were doing, they were handicapped by the sensation of uncertainty.
The week had marked that her sixteenth birthday would be due in about seven day’s time, and while Yellow felt the initial euphoria heralding her approaching celebration, it hadn’t taken long for her to reach the conclusion that she wouldn’t be able to enjoy her birthday. With every day, as she ran through her mind the thoughts and wishes for the fourth of March – she was still a wishful girl regardless of her age – only one hope stood apart from the rest; which were obligatory little Viridian hopes concerning peace. It was to experience Red wishing her a happy birthday, to feel his warm gloved hands just touching the top of her head and ruffling her blonde hair just there at that perfect spot he himself had created all those years ago when she was only eleven.
It hadn’t been the first time Blue had pointedly advised her to make a move on Red instead of standing by and watching Misty launch attempt after attempt to get his wandering attention. Yellow realised that the young water-type gym leader possessed a certain flair, perhaps just an important courage, that she inevitably lacked when it came to the dark-haired boy and her frustrations towards him.
But she was going to hit the glorified age of sixteen; clearly telling that it had been eight years since she’d first met Red. And she prompted herself again and again, repetitively in her mind, that if she wished to achieve something, she would have to seize the chance herself instead of waiting by and aimlessly hoping for Red to someday just knock on her door. Yellow convinced herself, in the spur of the moment, to invite Red to the celebrations personally – Blue informed her that if she did so, face-to-face, Red would not be able to find no reason to reject. And while the blonde found the plan flawless, she forgot to account for the one slight hitch –
Herself.
She scarcely wanted to corner Red into a predicament of no alternative escape, and she found it increasingly difficult to picture herself asking him to break his important training regime just to attend a little gathering that probably would not hold his attention. Yellow stared at the bag she had packed for her journey up the mountain, imaging the arduous task and the goal at its looming pinnacle, her throat suddenly tight and dry. She lowered her eyes to the curled hands on her lap, heart throbbing as her mind debated the success and feasibility of the risky choice. If she wound up in a fix, she’d cause trouble for others – and if she did manage to find Red, she’d create trouble for him, and if she didn’t, she’d celebrate a birthday with an unfulfilled wish. The whole ordeal was mentally draining as much as it was taxing, and she bleakly wondered if she was doing this for herself, or if the people around her had backed her into a corner of her own.
Red probably didn’t even know it was going to be her birthday.
Before Yellow could lapse further into her unease, her pikachu pattered excitedly into her room. The fresh daisy tucked behind her yellow ear leapt along with her enthusiastic movements as she slowed into a trot. Chuchu pawed at Yellow’s bare feet and purred eagerly, addressing her owner with bright, round eyes that displayed an intention. The pokémon’s fur bristled as she led her trainer out of the room and towards the front door of the house. Yellow followed blankly down the hallway, having failed to hear the sound of a knock or any previous engagement with company.
Chuchu parked herself at the foot of the door, taking up her role as a miniature sentinel of sorts. Yellow stilled as she saw the foretelling twinkle in those pebble eyes, before realising that she would not need to read the pokémon’s mind to understand what was taking place.
Pika was coming.
At the sound of knuckles rapping the wooden door of her house, Yellow started in surprise, her body rattling as her heart kicked itself into third gear. Chuchu purred delightfully and retreated as the girl inched towards the door in the most delicate of means with nervous steps and a pounding chest. When she finally touched the cool tip of the doorknob, she found it harder to twist it, fearful of disappointment – what if it wasn’t Red, what if it was just her uncle returning from his fishing trip?
She inhaled, crossed her fingers behind her back, and opened the door.
“Yellow!” The boy’s voice seemed to reach out and embrace her senses. Her eyes were awarded with the sight of an eighteen-year old champion standing comfortably on her doormat, characteristic cap taming his unkempt hair and a smile that had been dearly missed adorning his face. The pikachu perched on his shoulder hopped off his place to greet Chuchu affectionately with a nose rub and an exchange of sparks between red cheeks.
“R-red,” she breathed in response, almost forgetting to exhale.
Red grinned, hands fingering the straps of his bag as his left shoe kicked a stray rock off the doorstep. “Sorry for being gone so long,” he laughed in an airy way, voice sounding apologetic.
Yellow found herself shaking her head to pretend that she hadn’t minded at all, her jaw hanging agape.
“It’s good to see you, but how– why are here?” she asked softly, her hands clenching involuntarily at her sides.
“Because its going to be your birthday soon, isn’t it? I wanted to celebrate it with you,” Red answered smoothly, as if it was the most innocent and correct decision in the world to make, as if he had no problem climbing down the jagged pathways of the mountain just in the favour of a day that shrunk against the towering number of three hundred and sixty-five. As if her birthday meant something special to him, and that he wouldn’t miss it for anything else.
Yellow’s eyes began to water, and when the tears rolled down her rosy cheeks, it was already too late to pretend that she was not crying out of gratitude and emotion and perhaps love. Red’s widened eyes flashed with panic for a brief moment; he checked the vicinity for anything that could be of assistance, but his efforts proved to amount to nothing. Yellow sniffed and wiped the tears with the heel of her hands, squeaking in between. “No, I’m alright, I’m just, happy you’re here,” she nearly whispered.
Red relaxed his stiff shoulders and stepped closer, bending down and fixating his brilliant eyes with hers as a form of comfort and confidence. “Why wouldn’t I be, Yellow?” he said, once more, in that tone that portrayed the amazing graciousness and kindness that she struggled to just wrap her arms around.
Yellow’s body wracked with another wave of emotion just when she thought that she had cried enough. And when Red’s warm gloved hand just touched the top of her head and started to ruffle her blonde hair just there at that perfect spot he himself had created all those years ago, she felt like it was the second time she was falling in love.
Title – Transparent Beam
Author –
ibuberu Fandom – Gen IV
Characters – Morty/Kotone
Rating – G
Genres – Romance
Summary – His smile relayed only one emotion.
Transparent Beam
Morty had not been looking for anything in particular when he stumbled onto a person that talked with few words, a record of even less than him. She was a wonder, crowned as a rarity in his past escapades with talkative, arrogant challengers and the flamboyantly chatty Eusine. That was when he first saw her at the burned tower, searching with curious child eyes and naïve footsteps. He introduced himself out of courtesy, only to see her nod politely and resume her exploration of the tower. He had tugged consciously at his scarf for a moment, pausing to examine her and her disinterest before leaving with a disappointed Eusine.
He hadn’t been expecting to lose a badge to the quiet girl, deceiving with uneasy hazel eyes that did well in concealing the true skill of their master. She consisted of little statements, calming with a peaceful presence that seemed to soothe the erratic attitudes of the ghost pokémon in his gym. They hovered around her and phased between the wooden support beams, stared loudly at her when she didn’t notice. They were drawn to her, out of fixation or wariness; it differed with every ghost-type. The ghastly were largely entertained by her fear, the haunter unamused and especially observant with her patterns as she staggered across the dark floor and squinted in the flame of the paper lanterns.
It was not unexpected for the leader to find himself caught in the same web his ghosts had gotten themselves entangled in. Morty found himself noticing her more than he should have, the emotion tumbling in her eyes and on her countenance, expressing everything that she would not convert into speech. He glimpsed hopes and dreams reflected in the depths of her youthful eyes, determination and strength gathering in those rosy cheeks – her heart and her soul catching the glow of the flames. In the end, the only thing she said to him was a mindful ‘thank you’ and then she had opened herself up a little more to give him a winsome smile.
And that smile was what did it – he realized that there was something about the girl. For a person to be able to compress gratitude and apology and respect and happiness into one smile – it was astoundingly beautiful in so many ways. She represented so much that he initially assumed it to be impossible – that a smile could hold only one meaning, that a young girl could command a raging gyarados, that he would never get caught in the currents of emotional affection.
However, she left the city quite swiftly after they met for the battle, right before he had worked up the courage to ask her for her pokégear number. Morty found reality nibbling at his thoughts and his heart, almost as if regret was tickling his skin. He had sighed and left the matter at that, believing that fate had just decreed that he was being an impossibly rash individual and that they were not soulmates or anything of the sort.
But he grabbed his phonebook and called Jasmine and Chuck and Pyrce and Clair offhandedly, just to ask them if they had met her too. With each week, the four leaders took turns to confirm his question, chat idly with him about the growth of her team, exchange clever banter about her softness and her untalkative behaviour. They never mentioned about her smile or the other captivating features that accentuated her face. And while Morty could not see it, he pictured her team becoming stronger and stronger and her smile becoming more unreadable as it started to wane with his memory.
He trained with his own team of pokémon until every nook and cranny of the outskirts of Ecruteak had been etched into their minds. Within the same period, she had journeyed to challenge the Elite Four, and he had been eager to somehow, someway, reach the standard she had achieved for herself. Within a month, her name was printed on the cover page of fast-selling newspapers and broadcasted on television, celebrating the new champion of the Johto region. He had lounged at home and flipped through all the channels, seeing her timid face staring contemplatively at him regardless of whichever button he pressed.
On breezy afternoons, the sun’s rays enveloped the shape of the Bell Tower in the perfect light, casting its shadow over the maple trees of the garden. It was a calming place to visit and reflect, completed with a stunning scenery that only few had the chance to appreciate. Morty turned in mild surprise when he felt a finger brush lightly on his right shoulder, and when the owner of said hand presented herself as the girl, his heart did a double take.
The first thing she did was to raise her pokégear and inquire for his number. What followed after was an affectionate smile that struggled not to burst with the hints of sadness and regret, the result of leaving his city too early, three months ago. She carried emotions of relief, of a fluttering heart, of a sorry expression and that of a young girl suffering from an overwhelming crush on her lips. At the sight, Morty’s mouth cracked into an uncontainable smile as he returned her pokégear and promised to meet with her every Tuesday for a battle.
His smile relayed only one singular emotion, and he hoped that she would not need words to be able to read it before he died of old age.
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haha same person. ;)
Individually, I like Yellow more. She's a sweet girl. And yay! More Red/Yellow!
Do you remember the name for this pairing? Cuz I don't.Re: haha same person. ;)
Re: haha same person. ;)
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those two will never cease to be adorable
and i quite liked the folkloreshipping fic as well! i thought it was interesting how you characterized kotone - most people seem to write her as fairly chatty & outgoing, so it was intriguing to see it the other way around :)
the only thing i'll say is that the last sentence reads a little awkwardly... but that might just be me. otherwise, very nice job with both of these~
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There was such a wonderful sense of pretty adorableness in the Red/Yellow fic, one that makes the person capable of imagining the situation play out so well. Then, the pikachu and the other pokemon greeting each other with Red and Yellow interacting...so cute! *___*
And, the second work was more solemn in such a lovely way. I liked the way that the silent mannerisms were shown with so much detail and so much thought. I needed to read something like that for a while now. :D
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Red/Yellow represent innocence and adorable-ness in its very essence, they are a cute little non-canon-but-almost couple in the manga. And I'm happy that you liked the second fic too, especially with the whole silence-aspect. Thank you so much for the comments C:
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Never read any Morty/Kotone fiction before, but that was cute. xD I like how Kotone's portrayed, and Morty checking up on her was sweet.
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Some mistakes I found there:
And while the blonde found the plan flawless, is forgot to account for the one slight hitch
I kind of don't know what to make of the 'is' in the second half.
as if he had not problem climbing down the jagged pathways of the mountain just in the favour a day that shrunk against the towering number of three hundred and sixty-five.
'as if he had not a problem' / 'as if he had no problem' and 'just in the favour of a day'
I very much liked the Folkloreshipping one; your writing here was better than in the Special one, I thought, though that might be because this was more of a contemplative, narrative kind of fic. Anyway, I absolutely loved your descriptions of Kotone and the way you managed to keep it game-cannon. You're really good at that :D
It was not unexpected for the leader find himself caught in the same web his ghosts had gotten themselves entangled in.
'to find himself caught'
and when the owner of said hand presented herself has the girl, his heart did a double take.
'as the girl'
Thanks for the reads, again! :)
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Mem'ing this~
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