LAST TIME...on SPACE CASE!
Off we go to Route 3, new friends and new powersets in tow- the Shooting Stars are setting out for a terrifying new challenge...

Eerie certainly has caused trouble for our party, too...how much? Find out...on SPACE CASE!

EPISODE 11: Entering the Mirror Mist!

---

The first thing you notice is the looks.


Sure, you all got some stares when you came in- you, Frond and Eerie had been pretty blatant variants, with Eerie being the only normal one of the bunch...

But these linger.


They are looking at you. Not just your hovering, or your pink stripes-





It's like the bar.

Varied.




Your team is now a recognized entity.




It is weird! You're- you're pretty weirded out by this one. You hate people staring at you, and now-



I mean, you expected this.

You knew you'd at least get-


Top of your class, that means you were going to get somewhere-



You've been shooting for the championship position since-





Someone cheers as you pass, and your thought spirals simmer into pure anxiety.




Ohhh this is the. Bad part.
Going on a hike for a week sounds GREAT right now.
No people! The open road!





Filigree has to dodge someone bumping into them, likely on purpose-

Eerie scooping them up and starting to powerwalk.

You can't say that going through shady alleyways to avoid fans and less-than-fans alike was on your or anyone else's agenda, but you reach the gates outside of the city well enough.

Minerva's short fur is a little on end, nerves high.

She says it with a huff, but- it's genuine.

Eerie gives her a look, the bat waving her claws.

Frond gives Eerie a pat on the lower back, the rhyhorn's posture slumping.

No trouble at the gate beyond a big thumbs up from the guard on shift, which you halfheartedly return. Smiling isn't in your repertoire even on a good day, but at least this is viable. Frond covers any awkwardness with a proper high five.

....still, sometimes you wish you could return these kinds of looks back.





The doors slide open, revealing the bright, unblocked sun-

Filigree steps forward without too much fuss, adjusting their bag strap. It takes them a moment to realize that Minerva and Eerie are busy gawking.

It's sprawling, an upwards slope winding around cliffs and turns- easier than the mountain looming in the far distance for sure, but....

He joins Filigree, grinning wide.

Minerva sticks close to you, almost as if trying and failing to hide behind.

She pats her bag pocket.

You nod, not bothering to be polite about it.

The rhyhorn snorts, leading the three of you over to join the group.

He leans over, a goofy conspiratorial smile.

It takes Minerva some time to adjust to the rough terrain, figuring out the best way to hop over it when needed.

She laughs, embarrassed.

She avoids a particularly sizable rock.

You look over at the golbat.

She pauses, taking in the view as best as she can from under her sunhat.

The gloom is eagerly rooting around through some scrub brush, his smile widening.

 

 

One hit.


She screams.

The edges of the illusion had faded with your focus pulled away

and you take a nasty bone club to the chest, slammed into a concrete wall




that doesn't actually exist,




The boundary between reality and the realm you'd created feeling distressingly intermeshed.



Poison leaks from your mouth in wisps, like some jar inside of you came uncapped and it's all spilling out now. Can't put that one back easy.

Filigree's new powers have been revealed, along with dark implications about Team Osteo...surely this means nothing, right?

Suggestors, it appears Stretch and Minerva have mutually settled on friends with benefits...what does Stretch bring to the situationship table? Hopefully this helps it and Minerva keep on trucking... next time....on SPACE CASE!

LAST TIME...on SPACE CASE!
The Shooting Stars won their first gym challenge- physically stable, but mentally wiped. Hopefully a fun night in helps them get their heads on straight...

Route 3 is no simple affair, though! How will our heroes plan ahead? Find out...on SPACE CASE!

EPISODE 10: A Rocky Voyage Begins!

---

Your mind is like a VCR-


The tape rewinds.








Hi, I'm Fern!
I live down- yeah! Down the street.







My mom knows-






Yeah, higher! I can do it-


It'll totally fly from here-
You got the wings perfect!









Look, mushrooms-!
These ones aren't poisonous, I read about it in the book you gave me-









The other day, I found this-








Let's come back here again, just us, okay?









Why are you crying?
Oh, no-


They're just mean. You would never-
You're my friend, never mind those guys-










My mom keeps asking me what I want to be what I grow up-
Ohh....well, that's stupid!
I think you should be whatever you want!








Uh huh, I remember-
....oh! Wow!
I never thought about that before-
I guess it's kind of like my mom, right?
Gotta think about this...
Being a boy sounds kind of fun-


















He's soooo cool-
He said he can-
Yeah!
Incredible, right?
Full moon and everything-









Good to see you two didn't chicken out-

Not many girls your age would be so brave-
Shows you're-







Not much further-








Don't worry.
It'll be-

















Just count to ten-
I-It-
It's not so bad-
i'm scared, i-
we just
have to do what my mom says
count to ten













They're-








Over here-
Get the chief, comb the-







What the hell's wrong with her?!-
Who fucking cares, just-









Can you hear my voice?
We're losing her.

Get her to the OR-












We just need a minute, just a minute-
This is a breaking story-
The community wants to know-



Do you remember his-


We can't help you unless you tell the truth.





She doesn't know anything-
Bullshit. She has to-













....











You're not going back to school.
You should have thought about that.


Don't guilt me-


Do you even-
Everyone's talking!
You were on the news!
Do you know how many people ask-








This is all your fault.


















Your eyes snap open as you gasp for breath.







Minerva's wings are wrapped around you, keeping you safe-






....you stop mid-oncoming sob, the bat snoring with her mouth wide open. It's- glowier than you remember, more like something lit by a candle than any maw you'd seen.





....cute....





Wait-



Had she slept?!



Ohh, no. You've made her fucking diurnal.

What have you done.



Congratulations, your traumatic panic attack has now been interrupted with a brand new panic attack about defying the natural order- all while you grip her like a life raft, still not ready to detach from her fuzzy body just yet.




Her nice, fuzzy...soft body...




Your face sinks back into her chest, sighing as you let yourself feel the slight breast tissue there. You have no idea how long it would stay like that- while the guilt of your hubris lingers in your mind, you're too tired and freaked out to really-





An enormous snore snaps you out of it.





Oh.

Right.



The sleepover.

She takes a huge chomp out of her slice, cleanly biting off half in one go.

Filigree's more...nibbling....? At their own slice, their ring shaped mouth pinching and pulling off little pieces before letting the "bites" dissolve in their mouth.

They swallow the presumed mush.

The bellsprout shrugs, sampling the crust this time.

Minerva, meanwhile, is staring down the pizza slice on her paper plate with wide eyes.

Minnie fidgets, trying to figure out how to approach.





...She'd been trying to navigate picking it up for the past ten minutes.

She pokes at it with a claw, making a brief face at the cheese sticking to it.

Your golbat companion looks over at you with the saddest, wettest expression.

She lights right back up.

You move in closer, holding your hands out-

-and folding in every finger aside from your middle and indexes.

You spread your fingers apart, and then back together.

She pokes at the pizza again.

She taps her claws against the plate.

Minerva blushes, looking incredibly embarrassed.

She pulls into her wings, only for Frond to beam.

He waves his featureless hands.

The golbat eases up- and you're unable to hold back your own sigh of relief.

She looks back at you, and you nod.

Maybe it's the exhaustion, but...




You let yourself savor the feeling as you watch them figure out pizza logistics.











.....












........you feel a lot less enthusiastic about the event with your brand new morning stomachache.









You scoot, peering over the top of Minerva's wings. Eerie is crashed on the other bed, snoring with her full mouth open. That- she should probably see someone about that. You make a mental note-




For fuck's sake, are you playing doctor now to your team? First day of having a badge and you're already doting on them.



Okay.

Alright.



It could be worse.




Eerie is asleep, and- looks like Frond and Filigree went out somewhere. Their things from last night are still here, so- likely just getting their bags from their other rooms...


You have survived your first time sleeping in the same room as other people outside of Minerva in years- and you've only been doing this whole, thing with her, for a few days.


Allllriiiighty.



cool.





....you aren't sure if waking up from a nightmare or a wet dream would have been worse.


Equally viable options.


Eugh.





You consider staying inside the comfortable burrito. You could just live here forever- or at least until people get back-






Someone knocks on the door, and you scramble out of her grip, Minerva making a little grumbling "oof" in the process.



Thankfully, she doesn't wake, and you manage to bullshit a casual sitting position at the end of the bed.



Filigree walks in first, Frond following-



A tray of coffee cups in hand.



He lights up when he sees you, but stays quiet- pointing to Eerie and Minerva as he sets the cups down-





-and then gesturing to the door, and the tray.



You sigh- his request clear.






You grab your jacket.

You sip at your coffee- still hot, but not burning.
....he either timed it perfectly, or got your preference on accident.



You think about how he calmed you down during the gym, sighing into your next sip.

You can see him watching you out of the corner of your eye.

It doesn't feel bad, though.

Weirdly.

He taps his hand against his knee, trying to figure out the wording.

You blink.

He gestures in the air.

....




Oh.

His tone is shockingly light.

His smile grows just a bit strained-
-and yet still not upset with you.

There's a bit of wetness at the corners of your eyes.

It's Frond's turn to sigh, tapping his knee harder now.

He shakes his head.

He snickers.

You look at him incredulously.

...a decade


right



it





really has been that long.





Frond notices your grimace.

Your lip twitches, threatening an actual smile.

The center doors slide open, someone bursting through-

You give Frond a brief look before throwing out your empty cup, zooming down the hall with your teammates in tow.













You can already hear the loud voices from inside the room, your antennae back as you burst in.

A slight growl sneaks into your voice as you wedge yourself between them, the barrier pushing both mons back.

You notice Frond staring slack-jawed at the room's TV screen.

It's footage from Eerie at the bar, shitfaced and talking to some kind of reporter- a nasty feeling curling up in your gut as you hover just above the end of the nearest bed.

You put your head in your hands.

You drag your fingers down your face as you look back up.

She huffs, storming over to you and letting out a warning growl.

Frond swats at Eerie's arm, not able to do a proper grip.

You don't realize you're baring your teeth until Frond shoots you a desperate look.


You cover your mouth with a hand, trying to steady your breathing.

He points to the three of them, one at a time.

Minerva sucks air through her teeth, making a nervous whine and avoiding eye contact.

They sigh, waving a leaf in defeat.

They wrap their leaves around themself, shrinking.

Your chest hurts, guilt starting to creep in.

Eerie's look is...oddly morose, not the aggression you would have expected.

Minerva's ears flop, clicking her wing claws together.

Everyone turns to you, surprised for likely different reasons.

The gloom gives you a look, his face grave.



No specifics need to be said.

Pick your clothes out- travel gear, shit you won't mind getting dirty. Tank top and jeans will have to do it, your hoodie way too warm for the full sun you're about to deal with.



Brush your teeth. Get the scuzz off. Habit you're going to have to build, especially when it's not going to be as viable on the road.
Do your stretches- haha, funny.
Get in the shower, start cleaning up your fur-



The door opens, panic jolting through your body.

Your golbat companion peeks in, avoiding looking fully at you- but even then, you can tell she's in her underwear, the curves from yesterday still very there.

You shakily raise a thumbs up.







It's hard to believe you had taken a locker room shower together yesterday, if you could even call rushing to wash off that mess of fluids in less than ten minutes that. The day had felt impossibly long, and while you're still wanting to leave before the sun gets too high-


It's a lot different seeing each other like this, unpressured.


Her chest is still mostly smooth, the fat added on from your strange escapades adding just the slightest bit of breast tissue- you'd read about how heavily golbat weight fluctuates years ago- for no reason, none, absolutely not- but it was impressive all the same. Now that you're less freaked out about having done it to her in the first place...


She catches you staring, making an amused giggle.

She pats you on the head, fumbling for the obligatory provided loofah.

It's clear this is hard on her, even with the pouf coming with handy adjustable loops for those without thumbs. She can only reach so many spots-

You reach out for it, Minerva blinking.

You keep your hand out, sighing.

She relents, handing it over with soft, guilty eyes.


You start on her back, having her sit in order to reach up her neck and head.

You furrow your brow.

She shrinks her shoulders forward.

Her voice cracks, clearly embarrassed. You linger around the base of her neck, making sure to work some pulses into sore spots.

Once she's sufficiently scrubbed down, she shuffles so you can get her front-



-immediately seeing your conspicuously placed hand.



You avoid her eyes, gritting your teeth.

To your horror, she scoots forward, her head...at a very convenient height.

She opens her mouth, just enough to see the warm glow inside.




You take a shaky breath.

Ohhh that is


a mental image.




okay.

You nod, unable to resist.

You are wholly unprepared for the feeling of that fire type heat directly on you, having to clap a hand over your mouth and lean forward, one arm braced against the wall. She can't exactly provide a lot of suction, but the warmth-


God, even more than that- looking down at her is killing you.

It would be so easy to-


To just-



You settle for massaging her ear with your un-braced hand, not wanting to grab anything too hard. She makes a soft hum in response, pleased-




To your embarrassment, you barely last any time at all, not even enough to fully process it, before tapping for her to pull away. She leans back, a strand of drool following-


-only for you to get off on her face, the golbat closing her eyes as half of it lands, half of it floats.

She smiles, even more delighted as you help wipe her face.

You glance down, seeing her just as worked up.



You



Uh




I mean, it's-


She did this for you, you want to return the-





Your head feels fuzzy as you gesture for her to stand, taking over her own kneeling position.

Okay. Okay okay okay.

Okay this is


Yup

okay




You open your mouth, feeling unpleasantly devoid of saliva.



It's fine
it's
fine


You can-




You get maybe two seconds into putting your mouth on her before the gag reflex kicks in, your heart pounding as you jerk away.


When you can bring yourself to look up at her, her expression is nothing but worried-





...especially as she dabs at the tears at the corners of your eyes.

She helps you back up, the warmth in her voice ever-present.

You're hugging her before you can stop yourself, trying to catch your breath.

Her wings wrap around you, steadying your breath.
Neither of you talk, just holding each other.











You definitely do not make good time on that shower

but today, that's going to have to be okay.

You roll the map out on your room's table, team huddled around.

Filigree, Frond, and Eerie raise their hands.

Minerva's looking at you with wide eyes.

She taps her wing claws together.

You sigh.

You point to Frond's nav.

Minerva looks even more antsy at that.

You trace a finger over the length of the route.

You raise your brows, thinking over your word choice.

The rhydon says nothing.

They shake their head.

You nod.

You tap the mountain at the end of the trek, the paper rustling as your pulse makes contact.

You squiggle your finger around.

Pointing to the other side.

Frond nods.

For the first time during this meeting, she gets a cheerful smile on her face.

You count on your fingers.

Frond makes a particularly stressed hum.

He shrugs into the air, lost for words.

The rhydon huffs, guilt sneaking into her expression.

You give Frond a quick glance, the gloom nodding back at you.

No one says a word.

Things from Stretch's past are starting to stir...but surely they'll be fine out on the road.

Still...suggestors, I have to ask- what do YOU think Stretch fears? Find out what terrors away our protagonist, next time....on SPACE CASE!

LAST TIME...on SPACE CASE!
Cleave is the only battler left in the Shooting Stars' way....but as the mysterious leader of a gym full of surprises, no one knows what tricks hide up his sleeve!

....is anyone even in condition to fight in the first place? Find out...on SPACE CASE!

EPISODE 9: PEWTER GYM (PT. 5)

---

You are now Filigree again.


....



............







Well, this is a problem.




Congrats, you all made it to Cleave- somehow, despite having just trained properly today.
You're more than aware that this is nothing short of a miracle.
To even have victory within reach is more than anyone could expect of you.


Hell, you're even televised.
This is freak shit.






But the luck had to run out somewhere, and you're sitting at the rest area with a very unavoidable truth sinking in.






Everyone else is fucking wasted.





Health-wise, yeah, no, people are holding up way better than expected.
Banged up, sure, but not a lot of physical damage.





The rest of your party ranges from staring into nothing to having a barely-held-back panic attack.

The gym has been generous, far more generous than most.
You've done plenty of reading, more than anyone else here- well, Stretch and Frond seem to be similar kinds of geeks.

Hard to say.




You snap yourself back on track. No time to nerd out.
Focus.




Usually there's a time limit in rest areas, if they even exist at all.
The water's quite generous, too.
This room even has cold towels.
For prepping you for the worst, it's pretty luxurious.




But you need to be on the field soon.
It'd look terrible on broadcast otherwise, and-






....fuck.





You take a deep breath.




Oookay.

Maybe-
maybe you can just stall for it.

Get things started like the fight with GY and have someone tag in when there's a good opportunity.










You can literally hear Stretch sucking air through its teeth to keep from freaking out.




ouuuuuggh




No! No, you have to- it's all on you now. You're the one who asked to go, to be taken onto the team in the first place-



....



You think about the mirror maze.
About Eerie stumbling out of the first challenge, shocked at your constitution after all that.
Every time you've done something, these mons all seem genuinely impressed.
You stepped up for GY, and it worked out- terrifying,

but it did!



Regardless of just knowing them a few hours, you-





....You don't have a lot of friends.
They seem cool!


And- you can help them!




They're...counting on you.





If you back down now-


....


You hop off the couch, people looking down at you as you brush yourself off and stand tall.

You shake your head.

Stretch interrupts, its voice firm.

It sighs, head in hands.

Frond looks genuinely worried for your safety.

It looks at you, its eyes weary.




You hadn't noticed its eyebags before.

Most of the time, it seemed to be staring so wide that all you could focus on was its sparkling blue scleras, or completely avoiding making contact.

You nod, conviction starting to catch up with you.
You've come this far. You've been proving yourself hardcore.





Besides-




-you have some questions to ask Cleave.





Stretch gets up, leaning against the wall and calling up to the intercom once again.

The voice is even, hard to get a read on its tone- but the door opens all the same, your team walking through before anyone has time to start having doubts.








The final arena is simple- a more standard gym fighting field, with its mats colored to match the rest of the gym's distinct interior-





And then you see it.



A throne sits at the other side, a figure reclined on it and watching you.

....





......





He's smaller than you.


And not only that-
you can't guess what species he was for a million bucks.
Judging by the tension in Stretch's brow, neither can your team captain.



Worrying-




-but even stranger due to the nature of it.

Cleave is coated in latex, similar to GY- but wearing a cowboy hat, built in boots, and a gas mask with masses of tubing extending to the sides, all around him.
Coating the throne, extending into the walls-


The tubes pulse, something pumping through them and away from their source. Exhaling- no, something tells you that's not quite right.





In fact, it answers one of your very, very large questions for him.



He waves a hand at your team, friendly and welcoming.
Frond and Minerva wave back, the former particularly cheery.

There's a soft noise from the gym leader, raising a gloved hand before fishing out some kind of holographic tablet.

He taps a few buttons, watching you expectantly.

The same, even voice coming out of the intercom- prerecorded lines and phrases.

He claps a few times, genuinely excited.

Before anyone can respond, he holds a hand up again, tapping more buttons this time.

It comes through as a unique sentence made up of samples from Caress' voice.

Cleave has to think for a moment.

Another pause, shaking his head.

He taps his chest.

The sample is a full sentence recording from Suture, Eerie giving him a dead stare.

His hand falls back to his side, posture serious.

You've heard this sentiment before, all throughout the challenges- spoken by the gym team, and blaring thematically through every struggle up until this point.



It seems obvious.


That's the gym's thing.


It's what you speculated, right from the beginning.







Something about hearing it now scares you shitless, even coming out of this tiny latex cowboy.





You don't get time to ask more, the gym leader waving a hand.

It's Caress' voice this time, the phrase said with more than a little bit of pleased, gentle laughter.

He hops off of his throne, stumbling just a little.

Stretch looks down at you.

Stand tall.


Stand proud.



You've come this far.

It gives you a thumbs up, everyone standing back as you get on the field.

He jolts in shock, having to set his tablet down for a moment to clap excitedly, scrambling to pick it back up.

The gym leader shuffles to his throne to put his tablet to the side, coming back to the field with his tubes dragging everywhere.



Standing in front of him, he doesn't look that imposing at all.

Even with the boots and the hat, you're still taller.




He rubs his hands together, latex gloves squeaking, gleeful to get going.




Cleave's feet leave the ground.



oh



that's





The gym leader raises himself, tubes shifting and hoisting him into the air, far above you.



Some unmount from the walls, trickling purple wisps.








that's not good




You hear muffled laughter inside his gas mask- playful, savoring how your eyes widen.







This may have been a mistake.

















It's fine.


It's fine.



You circle your opponent, watching him do the same.



Scope it out.


What kind of mon is he-




Oh, who are you kidding.
No way in hell you're identifying him in that suit.





The sound of tubing shuffling against the ground snaps you out of it.




ohhhh



no





While the two of you have been circling each other-



-he's been making a loop.







You are surrounded.






Not getting hit is no longer an option.






Welp.






You swallow.


Better make every strike on him count.








No time for holding back.




You rush his ass, ignoring every part of you screaming that this is fucking suicidal.

He tries to yank himself backward, only to take the full brunt of a slam, letting out a distinct metallic OOF.


Something, that's something, maybe he's-



You move a half step back before he's on you, one of the wires snapping around your body in a tight loop.

There's an audible collective wince behind you, one that gets more distant as you're yanked in closer.



You can't move.
Cleave is laughing, having the time of his life.




Panic instinctually builds in your chest-



-only for the end of the hose-like tube to approach your face, the smoke more obvious now.





...Just as you suspected.



Your fear eases up- you're still in this guy's grip, but you've got one up on him that no one else in the team has.








You know what you're working with.






The room slips away.







You stand in a rocky clearing, the full moon overhead. Large cliffs surround you, the quarry as familiar as ever. Its minecarts and scattered tools lay abandoned, only you as this pit's sole occupant.



Purple mist seeps through the area, thicker around the boundaries of the quarry- your own personal nightmare, just for this fight.




You can still feel Cleave's wires around you, in the real world, spreading your limbs and keeping you held tight.




This isn't the first time you've walked this plane- if you could even call it that.






Your eyes meet a figure directly in front of you-





a victreebell,
towering above.




He wears the same loose, badly fitted overalls you remember him in- your uncle had to help him in and out of them on account of his stiff leaves, the protective garment's shape and buckles unsuited for someone of his species.



Your father had looked back at you in the maze, and he looks at you again now. His eyes are tired, breath shaky.
In the mirrors, he had started out the way you remembered him, only to decay-





-and here you see him, sickly, wilting, purple liquid leaking from his mouth and eyes, barely hanging on.



He takes a shambling step towards you, fumbling for a pickaxe on the ground and managing to lift it.




His presence isn't a threat.

He would never do that to you.





He takes another step, raising the tool.







You are here to be tested.









You roll to the side before he can swing- even with your father's weakening body, the axe shatters the rocky ground behind you, bits of stone shrapnel hitting your back.


He splutters, the sound familiar as he chokes on the poison running through his body.




It had been especially bad for him compared to the rest of the quarry, his acid replaced, body breaking down before the others-





You turn on a dime and feel yourself wince as you see him there, still trying to haul himself to strike again.





Volatile in the final days, lashing out- not at you, but himself.




He tries again, and stumbles.




You refuse to approach, keeping yourself away from him.



He knew he was going.

He knew he was going to leave you.



Your aunt and uncle had already gone under weeks prior, and his time was running out.




Your father keeps pushing himself, trying in vain to reach you.



The bindings around your limbs tighten in a world beyond this one.



You need an opening.





Think.





The worlds run parallel.




There's no bindings on you here, not physically-

....




You bear your lamprey-like teeth, pointing at the shuddering victreebell in front of you.

His eyes widen, further taken aback by you slamming directly into his chest, bowling him over.

He won't be able to speak- you knew that part already.

Words had become harder for him, and even with your family's resources left behind by other passing relatives-




-something like Cleave's tablet would have been out of reach. Less expensive now, surely-






But there's no time to wish for impossible things.





Right now, you're not speaking to your father, and never would again.

Sludge pours from his mouth, over your head, into your eyes-




It does nothing, only a little sting.
You're used to it.


His eyes widen again, trying to drag himself back.

His eyes ooze with tears,
a burbling,
choking sob escaping him-

But he's not afraid,

or upset with you,

or angry-








Years prior,
he had told you to stand tall.

Be the person you wanted to be, chase your dreams.

You want to become a League battler?


Do it.


And then he started to see things, hacking up the ooze and losing function by the month,
week,
and then day.



You inhale, feeling the wires swing backwards as you gather your words.




One thing had been clear above all else, his dying wish- one of the last things he was able to communicate.




Do not end up like him.




The wires hit a high point, and you rush forward- on your feet in this world, and swinging with as much force as you can in reality.

Stay safe.

Stay docile.





And frankly-












You slam into him, sending him flying- impacting latex coated metal, a sense of triumph filling you.





You've been pretty fucking sick of it.




He gives you one last look.

Words wouldn't cover it.
He's gone.
.....but in a strange way-





You hope he understands.







You feel the bindings loosen-



-reality coming back into view as you land on the ground.





The buzzer sounds, cheering not only coming from your team, but through all the walls. Confetti dumps all over the arena, a fanfare playing-

Wow.

....you actually did.





Cleave lays on the floor beside you, the tubes vibrating-


Laughing, so hard that he's wheezing.



You kneel by the gym leader's side, watching him shuffle into a sitting position.

Cleave nods, muffled within his suit as he laughs.
His voice sounds weak, familiar in a way that would have hurt even just a year ago.

Another nod, the latex-clad mon taking your leaf and holding onto it as you lead him back.
Easing him onto his throne takes a bit of effort, but you get the feeling he appreciates it as you hand him his tablet.

With the press of a button, confetti rains down on the whole arena, your team cheering as best as they can with all the exhaustion.

Cleave raises a hand.

He reaches into a cleverly disguised basket on the side, fishing around for your team's prize.

You point back at the electabuzz, your team shouldering it as they shamble over.
Stretch gives a half wave.

Cleave waves back, far more enthusiastic.

You nod, taking it carefully in your leaf.


..............



............................




It is a cheap enamel pin shaped like a padlock.

A prerecorded, guilty-sounding line from Caress.

Cleave nods, another laugh coming from inside the suit.

Another nod- enthusiastically.



You smile.






It'd been some time since you've taken care of someone's joint aches, lost in it-

you don't even notice as Stretch approaches, up until his shadow casts over the throne.

It shakes its head.

Embarrassed, you rub the back of your head.

He pauses, tapping the arm of his throne before thinking his next words over.

You don't clarify, too focused on meeting the eyes of Cleave's mask.

Hesitation,
before distinctly lowering the volume and gesturing for you to come closer.


Stretch takes a step away, getting the gist immediately.

He reaches up, tapping the tubes coming out of his mask.

You nod, tapping the thorns on your neck.

Cleave shakes his head, enthusiastically.

He presses a hand to your chest.

You remember the first night you had coughed it up-







-two years after he had passed.

He pats your head.

It splices Suture's earlier line, getting an outright laugh out of you.

You press your leaf on top of his hand.

The gym leader nods, gesturing for you to give his hand back before shuffling through some menus-




-bringing up a contact list.

He shows you how to touch the screen without any mis-presses, and you enter your nav number.

You jump, turning around to see everyone.

Minerva pats it on the head, getting a sigh in return.

Eerie scoops you up before you can say anything, hauling you onto her shoulders.

You stop your protesting, a smile sneaking onto your face.

You are now Stretch again.




The walk back to the final elevator is a weird one- just a few feet, and yet



It feels further than you've ever traveled before.



This is it.





You-

You did it.
You barely fought yourself, but



That ended up working out.





Weirdly.




Your team did it.





Your team did it.





Your eye wanders to the four mons walking alongside you, cheering and laughing with each other.



Smiling doesn't come easy to you- never did. You don't know if it ever would.
.....
Still.




It's.
Nice.





And maybe the light warmth in your chest is good enough.







Cleave waves goodbye as you head up-


-only for a loud sound-

-to get more intense as you reached the top floor.






Your eyes widen.





When the doors open-








You're back at the bar.




And everyone is cheering.




People are wall to wall, pounding on tables, all kind of pokemon, all sizes-



All so, so excited.




Chants of "PEWTER!" mix in with people yelling your name, someone grabbing your wrist-

-only for it to be Suture, her zipper grin unphased.

You pull your wrist away with an apologetic look, Suture shrugging as she points to the sports TV.



....replays of your fight, commentary over it.

You see yourself in third person, your entire team starstruck.




You are now a known League team.

The bar cheers with him, your antennae going back.




....this is a lot for you, as exciting as it is.


Minerva seems to notice first, tugging on your shirt sleeve.

You manage a nod, all you can really do.



Minerva whispers something to Eerie, getting a noncommital gesture.

The widest grin crosses his face.

He looks back at you giving him the best thumbs up you can muster as Minerva scoots you out the back.




It's night- and late, by the look of it. The exhaustion hits all at once, Minerva having to hold you against her as she slides down the side of the building.

You fumble into her lap, nothing sexy about it this time- for either of you.




It's just time to hold and be held.





She pets your hair-antennae, a light purr sneaking out before you can stop it.

Your attempt at "for what" comes out as a garbled nonsense sound. She giggles, somehow picking up on it.

You look back up at her with wide, blue eyes.
Her own have so much fear in them.

More petting, scratching around your cheek and chin.



Ohhh it feels good. You'd probably be panicking sooo bad right now if you weren't getting spoiled like this.

You splutter, taken aback instantly.

She giggles more, hugging you close.

A couple head pats.

You stay like that until the noise inside winds down, people trickling out the front and heading home. You've almost dozed off when Frond opens the back door, drool all over his place.

You nod, letting the bat help you up.

He holds the door open for both of you, the bar feeling much more inviting without all the noise and bodies. Your team is settled comfortably in a circular booth, Filigree watching as Eerie does one of those knife stabbing tricks between her claws.

Frond seems too occupied with zooming back to order more food, leaving you and Minerva to watch the rhyhorn in horror.
Fili notices you first, waving you down- Eerie looking distinctly disappointed to lose her captive audience.

She lets you sit in between her and Frond, spreading a wing across your back like some sort of emotional shock blanket.
You let it rest there, pointing to things on the menu for her to order you.




...usually you'd feel a lot more self conscious about this.



Maybe-




...




....seeing Cleave had done you some good.





Maybe the whole gym did.





Even with all the pain, it hurts so much less now. You're sore, but as the nachos you order reach your table, it mainly just feels...oddly cozy.

Her voice is teasing, but not aggressive.

She gestures with her claws.

You shake your head.

Oh.

Right.


She's drunk.



That explains it.

It comes out immediate, defensive.
You slump, hiding in Minerva's wing.

He smiles at you.

It's practically empty by the time you're almost done with your food, Eerie having sobered enough to stop slurring and trying to skewer her own fingers.
Filigree's been showing Frond pictures on their phone, going over some kind of local plants in the area.
Minerva's scritching your head, and you're starting to feel downright sleepy.

You open your eyes and look over.





.....she looks serious.

She raises a finger to gather herself, clearly not all sober yet.

His voice sounds similarly tired.









Your chest hurts.

She grabs Filigree's water cup and downs what's left, the bellsprout not even bothering to protest.

You hate this.






You really fucking hate this.




Ouuugh god you hate this

The rhyhorn leans over on the table, resting her head on her hand as her elbow makes a solid "thunk".

She shrugs.

She avoids eye contact for a moment, and then clears her throat.

Silence.










It takes a moment for someone to speak up.

They nod.

The bellsprout wraps their leaves together.

They nod again, not looking too bothered about it.

They smile, softly.

It takes them a minute, counting in their head.

She gestures to her keeping you wrapped up.

Minerva immediately seems self conscious.

Headpats for you.





yes.




.....




...............




oh god, what are you becoming.





Frond raises his hand, cheery as ever.

Frond rubs his hands together.

....the enthusiasm wanes, just a bit.

His voice gets very, very quiet.

fuck









Even Minerva's claws massaging your scalp can't make the sting of that one hurt less.




You-






What do you even-

Fuck, that's clunky.

That's worse.
The fuck are you even saying.




But, somehow-






His face lights up.

He raises his hands- thank god, subtly this time.

Everyone laughs but you, but Frond doesn't seem to mind.
His expression is nothing but appreciative as he leans over, whispering just for you.

He goes back to his normal seat, grin restored.

Eugh.




Maybe you should, just-

You look up at her, the worry and discomfort clear on her face.





....why didn't you



volunteer first?






God, she looks like she's going to go through hell over this-