Johtomoonfest2024 - Tumblr Posts - Page 2
So....She's been passed over for two of the awards in favor of two people who have never performed before....One of the winners had some prior experience performing, but to her, being beaten by a pair of first-timers--even though they proved themselves to be skilled--is positively disgraceful. And to think that Jessilina's performance had been better received than hers, despite the obviously, glaringly unprofessional mistake at the very end...Perhaps Jessilina can comfort herself by thinking that maybe the crowd wants a silly Moon Maiden. But to her, the idea of such is utterly preposterous--especially when her masterpiece went right before it!
This is why, she thinks bitterly, professionals don't compete in competitions judged by amateurs; the vulgar crowd has no appreciation for the deep, the meaningful, the avant-garde. It's a small consolation for her that Jessilina didn't actually win. She does not like losing to a greenhorn, but she'll take that over losing to an obvious buffoon. At least, in her estimation, Blue has talent.
Don't mind her looking saltier than the Dead Sea as she watches the winners get announced--losing to anyone in any aspect of life always sets off her narcissism. Nobody tell her that Kaguya doesn't intend to perform like this again; she'll have an even bigger internal hissy fit about losing to "someone who doesn't even take this seriously."
After the Moon Maiden contestant announcement is over, Airi looks up at her, standing up and putting her paws on Volo's leg, a sorrowful expression on her tiny face.
We didn't win....? the kitten squeaks.
At the feel of the baby's paws on her calf, Volo's hard gaze softens, and that surge of narcissistic confidence returns. It doesn't matter, she thinks, if no one saw her genius this time. She still thinks of herself as the best--and the crowd refusing to see that doesn't change a thing!
"It doesn't matter, little one. We'll go somewhere our talents will be appreciated."
Just before the Johto Moon Festival closed for the year...
N and Pokémon adoption centers--these two things were as inseparable as the two O atoms in oxygen. How strange it was, then, that he failed to make an appearance at the Moon Festival's adoption bazar, but it was not without reason. Toward the beginning of the Festival, his Carracosta's shell had gotten cracked, requiring immediate medical attention, and he would not leave his side until the poor prehistoric turtle was fit for discharge from the Pokémon Center. Unfortunately for him, this didn't happen until that evening. Which meant that if he wanted to pick up a Pokémon, he had to act fast.
One of his relatives in the sprawling web of the Volo family had mentioned what was there oh so casually--oh, yeah, did you hear? There's a bunch of Pokémon at the adoption bazar from Unova. You know how Handsome Ditto got banned in Contests there? Well, a bunch of them ended up in shelters and--And he was on his way, blitzing through the streets on the back of Reshiram toward the remainder of the festival. He slowed only to pay the entrance fee for that day, then zoomed past the attendant before she could fully get out the "Mind you, there's only five minutes before the festival closes"--he didn't care. Reshiram flew through the festival grounds at speeds that would make an Officer Jenny hop on her motorbike in hot pursuit, powered by the Fusion Flare lighting up their engine-like tail.
@onlyheartaches' Quicksilver, the fastest being in the world? No, it's N and his Pokémon, when they're on their way to pick up a new Poké-pal!
"I think that's Nathanael," Volo said to her family as she walked with Amaya and the children back toward the entrance, narrowing her eyes in concern as she saw the unholy blaze that that dragon was giving off. "Nathanael--"
But N didn't even hear his name being said as Reshiram slammed into her chest, knocking the wind out of her and sending her careening past the rest of her family.
"NATHANAEL!" Volo screamed as she breathed in, head spinning, her whole body pinned to the Legendary's chest with its speed. "STOP THIS INSTANT!"
"You're not stopping me!" N had to shout over the wind that Reshiram has kicked up with their speed. "I'm a man on a mission!"
And that mission was fulfilled when they descended like a wildfire on the adoption bazar. Reshiram screeched to a stop at its gates at 8:59 P.M., dumping Volo unceremoniously at the feet of the same attendant who suspected her of being a full kitsune and who had to deal with Allie being her bratty self.
That poor woman. Haven't my muses put her through enough?
"We're almost closed," she said. "Is there something you want, sir?"
N pointed to the Handsome Dittos remaining in the field.
"I WANT FIFTY."
The woman stared at him, flabbergasted. Somehow she could tell he wasn't actually completely kidding.
"We, er, we only have three left," she said.
"Then I want three. I'll take your entire stock," he said, with no idea of volume control or how intense he was being. Pokémon were one of his hyperfixations, and the autism had him by the throat.
The lady continued to stare. On one hand, what the fuck. On the other hand, the remaining Dittos had shapeshifted into Zoroark—picking up perfectly on the evolutionary line that N is a Pokésouled of—and had begun to strut and preen. They saw that almighty ball of flame nyooming toward them faster than it would through a whole clearing full of dry brush, its rider hoping to take them home. And that boosted their confidence more than anything else! Of course they’d want to go with this dude, are you kidding?
“Allow me to explain, if you have any reservations," N said, straightening proudly as he began to monologue about the beauty of his passion. "My full name is Nathanael Harmonia Asimov, but you may recognize me as N. While I have to admit that some of my past actions in the defense of Pokémon's rights have been...questionable, my desire to help them has always been unparalleled. There is nothing more bitter to my ears than the sound of Pokémon from any version of Unova being so callously abandoned as these handsomest of Ditto were--" the Ditto look even more pleased at the praise--"and yet nothing sweeter to my heart than giving these Pokémon a home. As a Unovan, especially a Native one, how can I not fulfill my solemn duty to help any Pokémon from my homeland--whatever version of it in the universe it may be?"
Slowly, Volo picked herself back up off the ground; though she was in human form, she shook herself off much like a fox would to get the dirt out of its fur--which didn't do much to correct the attendant's nagging suspicion of her.
"He's a relative of mine. I can vouch for him," she said, not aware that she wasn't exactly helping.
There were a few more moments of awkward stares before somebody noticed.
"The festival has already closed. Is everything all right?" another festival attendant called, heading over. Two choices: Either a no or a yes. She had to make a decision. Now.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” the lady muttered under her breath as she looked down, but soon gave the other attendant a thumbs up and put a smile back on her face—especially because the Ditto seemed to be smiling too. One of them was even giving her puppy eyes, having sensed her hesitation--trying to persuade her with a "pleeeeeeeeeeease?" Pokémon loving these two despite the fact they could be so off-putting must run in the family.
“Well, they certainly seem interested in you, sir,” she said. “And we did make it our goal to adopt out every last Pokémon in these fields before the festival ended. You are….quite passionate about these Ditto. And while I must strongly urge you never to speed through Festival grounds like that again, EVER, I hope that passion will inspire you to give them the homes they deserve."
With that, she handed over the adoption paperwork. N pulled out the necessary fees from his wallet, with the most "shut up and take my money" meme energy he's ever had.
"You know, you could have just gone back to Unova to adopt some," Volo grumbled as they walked toward the exit, still sore over being body slammed and then dumped on the grass like a pile of old clothes.
He was going to get several speeding tickets for this, but it was so, so worth it.
A shiny Minccino plush was in the air and landed on the floor. It wasn’t much longer that a small girl in a Minccino mask rushed to find her beloved toy on the ground.
Zinnia is quick to recognize this being as an Ikiryo--part of her Lorekeeper training means she knows how to recognize spiritual beings from other traditions as well as her own. Kindness seems to be the way to go with these shed remnants of someone's past selves; if they're benevolent, kindness should be repaid, and if they're not, it should help calm them. This one seems to be at peace, she can tell. It would be easy for her to guide her home.
"Hey, little one!" She gives a big old smile, picking up the toy and handing it back to the spirit. "You looking for this?"
Shirona would like to have the Sweet Togepi cotton candy!
Oh, another sweet Togepi? The vendor quickly made work of a second sweet flavored Togepi cotton candy before handing it over.
He thinks briefly that he might offer them a hand up, but considering their condition, they're probably best off resting in Beartic's arms.
"I can tell," he says, a look of concern on his face. "Especially with that performance you did today. I've...heard of your injury, and it must have been incredibly difficult to have done what you did. I think you handled it admirably." Oh, Wallace, you little shit, complimenting Grusha's performance to his face while trash talking it behind his back.
"Have you had enough time to rest? It's a hot day today. If you need something to cool off, I'd love to get you some milk tea."
the quiet thud of beartic's weight against the earth comes as the pokemon sits, hind feet splayed out in front of it while the paw grusha sits upon remains lifted enough that its trainers feet don't quite touch the ground. it's only as the ice specialist leans over, one hand atop their leg / one beneath & a thumb buries into the thigh just above the socket's border, that they hear a person's voice.
they stiffen, looking up abruptly without sitting straight.
( ... hoenn region. ) the quick flip through their memory provides that much information, ( ... water-type. wallace? )
they hope that's correct, anyway --
"i'm not sure." hesitation prevents immediate admittance; despite the shake of their head which follows, it's not synonymous with dismissal. "at the very least, i need to sit for a few minutes." their voice is strained, a betrayal of the pain which has already radiated through half their body & made it impossible to think of something other than its existence for more than a minute. "the last few days have been... pretty hard on me. kinda sucks."
@vixletserenity (x)
The spirit isn't talking. It must be far more scared than Zinnia originally thought. A highly trained spiritual figure, she can sense her emotions--the fear of all the people, the need to find someone in spite of it. There's not much time before the Festival closes. She needs to help her soon, before the person who the Ikiryo seeks vanishes into gods know where.
"You look quite lost," she says, bending down to the girl's level. "Who are you looking for? I may be able to help guide you to them."
“Oh! Hi there.”
Anzu laughs softly at the little mimikyu that headbutts gently against her. She bends down to pat its head softly before sending it off with some flowers.