Project Valentine (Multishippings, G-PG13)

[floracat]

This, despite its creepy nature, made me laugh so freaking hard! Down with the Mary Sues and the fakes! Destroy them all before they taint us! Ha ha ha! That is pure gold! Extremely hilarious and yet somewhat creepy.

I liked that Phanpy. In a lot of stories, characters always declare their undying love on a battle field or when someone's about to die. Horrible time to be confessing, if you ask me, and terribly cliché. However, you managed to make it into something funny, and romantic-but-not-too-sickeningly-romantic. If I was that Eevee, I'd kiss him right then.

[Skiyomi]

Forgive me for not commenting on recent stuff or even in any kind of logical order, but I was just browsing through and gave your IkariShipping entry a read and realy enjoyed it. Paul's hilariously antisocial behavior was a real highlight for me. The first paragraph is, without a doubt, my favorite part of the piece. The interactions were a treat too.

[gkfang]

wow! Your description is amazing!

[SugarPesticide]

I guess I totally forgot this again. Sorry! Those ponies keep distracting me. Anyway thanks to all you guys for your support and such, I don't know if it still applies months afterward but I appreciate it nonetheless. You can kick me if it happens again you know.

*

BlazingAuraShipping // Vulpix & Riolu // PG-13

The Abbess yawned, unleashing another tiny fireball that floated obediently ahead of her, casting light on the hall. It shuddered briefly as the insistent pounding resumed, mirroring the irritation brewing within its maker. The Abbess herself gave no sign of such emotion, however. A pair of Sisters followed just behind her, and the stranger remained impatiently at the front door; it simply wouldn't do to look anything other than aloof and mystical.

When they at last arrived at the door, the Abbess paused for a moment, staring at the deadbolts for a moment before shaking herself and pushing them back. The Convent had visitors very rarely, and as such its entrance was seldom used, as heard in the ear-grating shriek of its hinges.

"This night is not a kind one for travelers," she said imperiously as the door swung slowly open. "Our Convent is almost always open to those who have been caught in—"

She fell silent, staring at the scrawny creature standing out there. It was peering up at her through the thick snowfall, eyes only barely catching the light of the little fireball. Beyond it was only snow and wind and night, and it seemed as though at any second one of the three would swallow the visitor up. It was rather likely, considering how small he was.

The Abbess slammed the door in his face.

"Mother Abbess!" one of the Sisters exclaimed, sounding slightly high-pitched over the gasp of her comrade. "How can you leave that poor traveler to the mercy of the elements?"

"That is a male," she said rather tersely, shoving the deadbolts back into place. "Mercy has nothing to do with it."

"Oh, can't we at least allow him to stay for a single night? Just to let him rest by our fire and partake of our bread. It needn't be for long, he could leave in the morning—"

"No." She turned with a great swish of her white-gold tails, summoning them to follow her down the hall. "I know the way of these things. He would stay the night, as far out of reach of you Sisters as can be. We would escort him to the door the following morning. But what's this? The snowfall of the night is far too great for anyone to trek through. So here he would remain, until I can at last manage to shove him out on the snow. But he is a jackal among vixens, turning heads and sparking whispers and attracting advances and before you know it, he's evolved and potent and half the Convent is expecting a litter each. Meaning that half the Convent must leave, as they are no longer virginal as their status as Sister requires! And they will be forced to travel with that terrible male, forming an unholy union. A harem, if you will. Believe you me, my daughters, that I shall not lose my flock to an easily avoided tragedy!"

She glanced over her shoulder with a huff, catching sight of one Sister's mouth hanging open rather stupidly.

"… Can't we at least let him spend the night here?" the other asked.

The Abbess found herself resisting the temptation to bash her head against the wall. "Put it out of mind, my daughters," she said, in a perfectly even tone that might have warned smarter Vulpix to actually follow her advice. "Head off to bed now; I shall see you in the morning at prayer."

The first of them nodded, deeply enough to almost hide her yawn, and trudged off to her quarters. The second, however, looked back at the distant door. Repeating the Mantra of Patience to herself, the Abbess waited for the young Sister to return to reality. Well over a minute later, however, the Sister – Flareth, was it? – still stared down the hall, eyes glazed over in a waking dream, seeming to sparkle in the light of the fireball. Her mouth had stretched a little into a lazy smile.

The Abbess, in her great wisdom, made an important decision in regards to the relative priorities of rest and politeness after midnight.

"Get. Off. To bed," she hissed in her ear, startling her to attention. "Right … nowwwww."

Flareth yelped, jumped as if she had received an electric shock, and darted off into the darkness.

The Abbess, nodding to herself, let the matter drift from her mind as she headed off to her own room, with the fireball trailing behind.

*

Morning arrived, as it always did. With a great yawn, the Abbess rolled over on her pallet, tails flopping from one side to the other. Peering up at the gray sky through her little window, she smiled, enjoying a rare moment of tranquil solitude. This would be a lovely day, she told herself, pushing herself onto her paws and arching her back in a magnificent stretch. Perhaps after prayer she might take a stroll outside the Convent. Gazing out at the serene snowfall from the previous night, and—

"No, the kitchen is that way. What, don't you like bread? It's quite delicious, particularly with milk."

She froze, staring at nothing in particular. Then, barely even thinking, she barreled out of her room, crashing through her door with a sound rather less impressive than she would have liked.

Standing a short way down the hallway stood Sister Flareth and the stranger from the night before, both staring at her as if they had been caught sneaking cookies, their fur quite disheveled. Her memory of the Mantra of Patience dissolved rather swiftly at this sight.

"What are you doing?" she exclaimed, glaring down at them as if she were Arceus herself. "Sister Flareth, surely you know you were explicitly forbidden to allow him entrance?"

"Well, he, er, he kind of let himself in, Mother Abbess," Flareth stammered.

"Yep," the scrawny stranger agreed, grinning in an infuriatingly impertinent manner. "Through the courtyard."

"… We don't have a courtyard," the Abbess said after a long moment's pause.

Flareth glanced at the stranger's battered paws. "We do now."

"This place is like a dungeon," the stranger said, oblivious to the Abbess' slowly curling lip. "Smells like one too. Hey, I think eggs are supposed to be good eating for a morning after."

"Don't just blurt that out!" Flareth whined, looking nervously in the Abbess' direction. "Sisters are still wandering about. I have a reputation to think about, and—"

"Reputation?" the stranger repeated, sounding boisterous enough to make her wince. "Isn't the social standing thing ignored in churches?"

"It's a Convent," she corrected quietly.

"Apples and oranges!" he laughed, flinging an arm around her. "It's still nothing a little confession can't fix, am I right? There's nothing wrong with a little sleep between friends."

The Abbess, of course, had heard nothing after the words "morning after," and her crouching stance proved it. These last syllables still reverberated in her ears, though, as sounds tend to do; and while her brain didn't quite register them, a reaction was still triggered.

"MONSTROUS LECHER—" she howled, suddenly lunging at him.

He barely had time to widen his eyes, throwing his forepaws in front of him and forgetting about Flareth as the Sister leapt to the side. "Oh shi—"

What followed cannot be repeated here, as there is currently no way to communicate the level of violence involved. Suffice it to say that after much bloodshed, in which each of the stranger's pleas for mercy was met by a vehement "NO DAMN IT", the Abbess won. By a rather wide margin, it should be added.

But it was a bittersweet victory, for after she had returned to her senses and the other Sisters had insisted on hitting him themselves, she stood watching him hobble off over the snow, which was quite fortunately not so deep that anyone was able to leave at all. And someone else did: Flareth, after several seconds of glancing between the glaring Ninetales and grumbling Riolu, hastily scampered off after the latter, where she was greeted with a paw-stroke through her tails and a not-quite-sincere laugh.

"It's better than half the Convent," the Abbess mumbled to herself, trying to believe it herself. "A necessary sacrifice. And who am I to choose her path for her? It may be a dangerous one, but … he appears to be somewhat capable in matters of the world."

Still, she stared after them long after she had gone, praying in her heart for the safety of the wayward Sister.

*

Coming up next: CosmosShipping.

[SugarPesticide]

Random crossover time!

*

CosmosShipping // Dialga & Palkia // G

Palkia stuck his neck into the strange blue box, feeling only a little surprised when he noticed how much larger it was on the inside. "I STILL FAIL TO UNDERSTAND," he muttered, eyes darting around the spacious room. Or perhaps it was a ship? He assumed the circular thing in the middle was a control panel, though being an eldritch god of space he only had a vague understanding of what a control panel was supposed to be. There were little bits one could push, he remembered. Strange how such a little motion could cause seemingly unrelated results.

"WE ARE HERE BECAUSE THIS IS VERY IMPORTANT," Dialga repeated. She was standing at the control panel, gazing up at the blue cylinder extending upwards from its center; her metallic scales reflected its glow dazzlingly. "AHH … I HAVE ALWAYS WISHED TO SET FOOT IN THIS PLACE."

"THAT IS AN INFURIATINGLY UNHELPFUL ANSWER," he said, though his mind was more occupied with the way the light danced about her. He wondered if he might manage to have a control panel of his own, someday. Controlling the flow of space might be slightly less stressful that way. Preferably it would be a small one, though of course any size issues could be rectified quite easily.

Naturally, she ignored him. "IF WE ARE TO USE THIS," she said, speaking mostly to herself, "WE HAD BEST BEGIN RIGHT AWAY, BEFORE THEY COME BACK. SHUT THAT DOOR FOR ME, PALKIA."

He twitched a claw absently, and the door swung shut behind him. "BEFORE WHO COMES BACK?" he asked, considering how much energy he might have saved had he used a miniature control panel.

"THE DOCTOR AND HIS FRIEND, OF COURSE."

"WE ARE STEALING A PHYSICIAN'S MEANS OF TRANSPORT? THIS CANNOT BECOME MORE HEINOUS. SUPPOSE THERE IS AN EMERGENCY WHILE WE ARE AWAY?"

"YOU ARE GREATLY MISTAKEN ON A NUMBER OF LEVELS. PRIMARILY IN THAT I CANNOT DO WHAT I PLEASE, FOR I AM HIS BIGGEST ADMIRER. OR FAN, IF YOU WILL."

"QUITE LITERALLY, I SUPPOSE."

"I AM NOT CERTAIN WHETHER THAT IS MOCKERY OR FLATTERY, SO I WILL COMPROMISE BY TELLING YOU TO SHUT UP." She let her eyes drop to the control panel. "HMM. THIS APPEARED TO BE MUCH SIMPLER TO OPERATE ON THE TELEVISION."

"YOU MUST REMIND ME WHAT A TELEVISION IS," Palkia said, still watching the lights twist along on the walls, shimmering through a trillion floating molecules.

She shot him a brief look. "IT IS A PARTICULAR SORT OF MACHINE," she told him. "THEY ARE ABLE TO RECEIVE AND PROJECT IMAGES OF MANY THINGS, EVEN SOME WHICH DO NOT REALLY EXIST. HUMANS ARE VERY FOND OF THEM."

He tilted his head; the room, already swimming around him, seemed to swirl a little in response to his movement. "I BELIEVE I CAN REMEMBER," he said after a moment. "BUT HOW CAN SUCH AN OBJECT WORK?"

"I NEVER BOTHERED TO DETERMINE THE ANSWER TO THAT. PERHAPS IT IS DUE TO MAGIC." She proceeded to poke at the control panel with a knife-like claw, as if worried that she might skewer the entire thing. "BUT IT IS THROUGH TELEVISION THAT I LEARNED OF THE DOCTOR, SO I SUPPOSE I MIGHT INVESTIGATE FURTHER."

Palkia nodded. His thoughts formed an image now, one of a human wielding a small control panel at a television. He liked the look of that control panel. Perhaps he could modify it, so that it might manipulate space as well as television. It would be very efficient.

The world jerked around him. After several moments of pulling himself back to reality, he realized that the room around them was shaking slightly, accompanied by an odd noise emitting from that glowing blue cylinder. "DIALGA!" he said, in as loud a voice as he could without rupturing the reality around them. The voices of gods are often quite pleasant to listen to, though usually when the listener is another god. "YOU TOUCHED SOMETHING YOU SHOULD NOT HAVE!"

"DO NOT SEEK TO MOCK SUCH A SMALL ERROR!" she called back, still fooling around with the control panel. "I AM NOT AN EXPERT AT TRAVELING MANUALLY THROUGH THE TIME-SPACE CONTINUUM. THAT IS WHY CELEBI IS THE TIME TRAVELER."

"BUT I DISLIKE THE IDEA OF DYING IN THIS BOX—"

"I ASSUMED YOU WERE INTELLIGENT ENOUGH TO REMEMBER OUR IMMORTALITY—"

"HENCE THE 'IDEA' BIT."

She only scoffed at that.

The room shook particularly hard, so much so that the very air seemed to quiver before Palkia's eyes. Feeling unsteady, he reached out on some long-forgotten impulse, grasping at the first thing he could. Said thing turned out to be Dialga's tail. She hissed at him automatically, but it was a rather distracted hiss, as her attention was turned mainly towards the issue of which parts on the control panel would lead to imminent destruction.

Those scales were very smooth, he realized, getting sufficiently distracted at the feel of her tail. They fit together seamlessly, forming a perfect armor. And yet it seemed … strange. He wondered how he had not noticed it before, with every friendly tap on the shoulder he had given her in the Hall of Origin. His thoughts of control panels gradually drained from his mind, to be replaced by the steady rhythm of blood that pulsed through her tail with each heartbeat.

He could not make sense of this daze he found himself in, clouded as his mind was.

"WE HAVE STOPPED," he heard Dialga announce. "KINDLY LET GO OF MY TAIL, PALKIA, OR I WILL FEED YOU TO SOMETHING."

He felt a tug as her tail slid through his hands, but he barely noticed. Instead he turned, barely noticing his own movements, and following Dialga as she pushed the door open and slid through the doorway. A stray image flickered through his brain, of some blank-eyed undead creature shambling around mindlessly.

The world they had arrived on was made entirely of silver, or at least something resembling it. An intensely bright sun blazed against its surface, its light reflected blindingly back into the newcomers' eyes. Five moons shone in the sky, possibly a sixth unless that shape on the horizon was actually a mountain. Everything was impossibly beautiful – yet Palkia barely noticed this, fixated as he was on Dialga.

It was at that moment, after countless eons of knowing her, that he suddenly realized he was hopelessly in love with her.

Nothing made a lot of sense from then on, though that was only to be expected. Love is a strange thing, even to eldritch gods.

*

Two humans – or rather, one human and one who only looked human – stared at the spot where they had left the blue box just minutes before. "I knew it," the human said after a long while, throwing her hands up in the air. "I knew someone'd steal it sooner or later, what with us just leaving it lying around all the time."

Her companion frowned. "They'll have to come back sometime," he said, rubbing the back of his neck a bit anxiously as she turned on him.

"It's serious!" she exclaimed. "I have to make sure my … my thing didn't leak too much."

"Your what?"

"It's nothing."

"Huh. See, the funny thing is, there aren't a lot of 'nothings' I'd call serious." He raised an eyebrow.

She turned away, just in time to hide the bit of color rising in her cheeks. "Forget it," she said, reaching into her coat pocket and quietly crumpling the tag hidden there – the one that she'd ripped off the love potion bottle half an hour ago. "It was probably a fake anyway."

*

Coming up next: LegendaryShipping.

[AquaRegisteel]

Wow, great stuff you've done here! I love the destruction of the Sueniverse story, made me laugh so much at times.

[SugarPesticide]

Thanks! It was fun to show just how bizarre some Sues can be, and even more fun to have them beaten up.

*

LegendaryShipping // Ho-Oh & Lugia // PG

He stares out into the sky, panicky and wide-eyed. "Wait!" he bellows, and everything around him trembles slightly. The winged shape far above him falters; the two humans sitting on it are nearly unseated. "You can't just leave! I need to know what – whatever happened when … I don't know anyone else! I just … your face …"

Despite the distance, he can see the expression on her face as she shakes her head. "I am sorry, Lugia," she calls back, in a voice like dancing flames. "There is more evil in this land to annihilate. Rest easy in the knowledge that I rejoice in your recovery."

She frowns as if considering whether to add something else; but one of the humans points northward, and with a nod she soars off, rapidly vanishing into the clouds.

His shriek of rage dies in his throat as he remembers just how his other self would respond to this situation. How can he possibly force her to stay? She is proud, he knows, and once her mind is made up, none can hope to change it. Only his own power might be used against her, but the memories of past atrocities – bloodied claws, shredded corpses, shrieking storms – prevents him from doing so.

With a shiver, he allows the child beside him to return him to that strange red and white sphere.

*

The next month is a blur. He isn't sure if it's a month, really; time is warped and disjointed within the sphere. He's let out quite often, but those moments are usually brief, filled with hesitant scientists taking measurements and analyzing his behavior. The child is always there, though just on the edge of the hustle and bustle, simply watching. At the end of each of these sessions the scientists step back, and he lifts his wings carefully, preparing to take off … and then the child stands and returns him to that strange sphere, where he is once again alone.

He often sifts through his memories in these strange spans of time, for want of anything else to do. It isn't particularly pleasant, for the vast majority of these are shrouded in fog: a mark of the mindless Shadow. There is no self-awareness in them, no feeling aside from a constant bloodthirsty fury. There is only the rest of the world, though his handiwork is seen in the wreckage of once proud buildings and the fear glinting in the eyes of soon-to-be victims. Before all of that – before the awakening of the shadow, a time literally painful to remember – there is nothing.

It's as if the Ciphers were his creators. But how can that be true? His first awakening as a monster was far too unholy to be compared to a birth. Yet, try as he might, he simply can't reach any other conclusion. He understands that he is a god, but the nature of his godhood seems slippery and just out of reach. Who is the god in this context, and who is but a pawn?

In the beginning there was man; and he said, Let there be Shadow, and lo, there was Lugia.

He sinks to these thoughts time and time again, balancing just on the edge of black despair – yet he never falls. Each time he remembers the faces in his memory, those not obscured by the taint of the Shadow's fury. Young humans, the heroes. His creators, staring up in terror. And … yes, the wise gaze of the phoenix, so new to him and yet so knowing. The other god, his potential savior. Surely she can give him the answer he has searched for so long.

Such are his thoughts as he drifts quietly in the void, awaiting her return.

*

She swoops towards them on wings of light. At least, that's how it seems to him; her rainbow feathers catch the sun's rays, sending them scattering back again to illuminate everything nearby. He has dwelt on the memory of her so often that, brief though their meeting was, he clearly remembers every aspect of her appearance – but now, watching her descend to this plateau, it strikes him how much that memory pales to her. Nothing in this desolate land can compare to her beauty.

With a slight flutter of her wings, she lands at last. There is some talk between the young humans as they dismount, exchanging tales of whatever events they have been trough, but it seems simply hum in the air around him. He tries to catch her watchful eye; and when he does she returns his gaze, albeit steady and confident.

"You came back," he manages to say. It is a ridiculous way to begin conversation, especially with a goddess such as her, but he can think of nothing else.

She nods, and the crest on her head bobs slightly with the movement. "Did you assume that I would not?"

"No. It's just that it's been … a while. Since we last talked. If you can count that as a talk." It sounds accusatory, to him at least. He winces inwardly.

"Time is not of the essence for those like us." The intensity of her stare burns into him. "You are still troubled."

He nods jerkily, so unlike her smooth movement. Then, before he knows what he is doing, he spills to her all of his worries, relating the thoughts he has constantly relived. He tells of how his very first memories are those of a monstrous fiend, and then, in a shaking voice, explains his deepest fear.

"I-I don't know if I was even supposed to be a god," he finishes, staring down at his claws. "They wanted me to be a machine. A killing tool. And I'm not even that, not anymore." He shifts his wings a little, feeling awkward. "I was wondering if … if you knew. What I am, I mean."

"I do not have every answer," she replies, but when he looks up again he is astonished at the softness that has entered her expression. "I am not as familiar with this land as I perhaps should be. But though I am uncertain as to whether you were truly born as the Shadow … Wes has told me a tale, quite similar to yours." She gestures with the tip of a wing towards the white-haired young human, who seems quite caught up in his own conversation. "There is a land far from here, in which humans created a fearsome creature. It was said to be born solely to assist them in achieving their own nefarious goals. Yet upon awakening, it fled from them instead. Now tell me, Lugia, how you can reflect its actions."

He blinks. "Well … Cipher is already destroyed, so it's impossible to flee them anymore."

"Is it?"

Feeling puzzled, he frowns. What does she mean by that? She sits there, watching him so patiently, waiting for him to figure it all out. He considers the story, drawing parallels and—

Understanding suddenly rushes over him. "So … whatever they did doesn't matter?" he asks, only partially aware of how strange it sounds.

She nods again. "You are a god, Lugia. You think and feel, soar and dive, command the winds while others may only watch in awe. Cipher did not intend for you to do all that at will."

He smiles, and suddenly everything is lighter both around and inside of him, shining with the wondrous realization of his own worth and potential. Even the despair that has threatened to consume him for so long has vanished, as if it has never been. Sensations seem to assault him from every direction: the touch of the breeze against his feathers, the murmuring drone of the young humans, the shining beauty of the phoenix before him … As if driven by the overwhelming world, he throws his wings around her. "Thank you," he breathes, and he realizes that he is laughing. "Thank you!"

Her body, though initially stiff with surprise, slowly relaxes into his grip. "It was truly the least I could do for you," she says, and there is a smile in her voice.

He only squeezes her, staring up at the sun with streaming eyes, feeling truly free for the first time in his life.

*

Coming up next: CharcoalShipping.

[SugarPesticide]

CharcoalShipping // Arcanine & Houndoom // PG-13

"Ooh, what's that?"

The Arcanine jumped several feet into the air, nearly spilling his drink in the process. Pokemon all throughout the café shifted in their seats to get a glimpse of what had made the resultant noise; upon seeing that it was merely the large dog being startled out of his composure, they snickered and returned to their coffee.

Taking a deep breath, he turned to face the one who had asked him such an inane question.

"That's your diary, isn't it?" the hellhound asked, grinning broadly at him with glinting teeth. "Don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about, I saw it and you were writing in it. To be honest, I'd never have suspected a big hulking guy such as you to have a diary of all things. I guess the world is just full of surprises."

"It's not a diary," he said automatically. "It's a journal."

She raised an eyebrow. "A journal named 'Diary'?"

With a scowl, he pushed the notebook into his bag, hiding the flowing cursive 'My Diary' that decorated its cover. "Details," he grunted.

She laughed. "The devil's in them."

Turning stiffly away again, he sat down – only to groan inwardly as she trotted around and snatched the other chair for herself. "… Can I help you?" he asked, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

"Waiter!" she barked over her shoulder. "Cappuccino latte over here, with a dash of capsaicin. Not kidding about the capsaicin!" She seemed to completely miss several bemused glances as she faced him, grinning again. "I'll need to be pretty awake for this. Aw man, you really are very hunky. I like how you turned out."

He sighed impatiently, reaching for his coffee. "Miss, can I help you?" he repeated tightly, bringing the cup to his mouth again.

"Yeah," she said casually. "I need sexual energy."

This statement was met with a sudden spray of caffeine-laden spit.

"No, seriously," she went on, unaware of the coffee that had just splattered all over her face. "It's a demon thing, and I need it so I can get out of this ridiculous mortal world. Seriously, how can you deal with the weather up here? It's way too cold all the time. I swear to Giratina I'm going to freeze to death before long, and it's only been a couple of days!"

He only choked in reply.

"Hmm … you probably don't know what I'm talking about, do you?" She tapped her chin with her claws, looking a little thoughtful. "Y'see, demons can't be up here too long without possessing somebody or whatever, and that hasn't really been done ever since … eh, that's not important. The point is that all of us minor demons have to pick a mortal to have sex with in case we get stuck up here. I picked you, obviously. A long time ago. You were such a cute little pup back then."

Her eyes began to twinkle as she stared off into space dreamily, oblivious of the way he was quickly snatching all of his belongings and shoving them into his bag.

"I wasn't expecting to actually end up like this," she went on. "I have been checking up on you from time to time, though. Making sure you're alive and kicking and all that, you know, because if you'd died or something then I'd have to go through a buttload of paperwork to get another mortal. And that's terrible." Her gaze suddenly refocused. "So, do you want to do this right away? I'd prefer to wait for my coffee, since it pleases me."

"Listen," he snarled, pushing his chair back so hard that it smashed against the nearby wall. "I don't know what sort of trick you're pulling here, but I am not having … er … 'doing' anything with you. Look, you need money? Here's a fiver. Now if you'll excuse me—"

"Cappuccino latte with … er … spicy stuff?" the Mawile waiter asked a bit uncertainly, having only just arrived.

"Trade you!" The hellhound snatched the drink out of his hands, replacing it with the money she'd just received. Without further ado she upended the entire thing into her mouth, glass and all, and proceeded to alternate between swallowing coffee and crunching glass without spilling a thing. "What?" she gurgled, noticing the bug-eyed looks she was receiving. "Is my head twisted around or something?"

She glanced back towards the Arcanine, narrowed her eyes slightly at the empty seat before her, and suddenly streaked off towards the exit, thwarting his plan to dash away by leaping onto his back and pinning him to the ground. By this time everyone was staring at the scene; some people were craning their necks to get a glimpse over a taller person blocking their view.

"I am a married man!" the Arcanine grunted, straining as best he could to break free of her hold.

"Yeah, I know," she said, as if he were merely asserting his gender. "But she wouldn't want you to doom someone to death by cold, would she? Now, since it looks like you're going to keep being ridiculous about it, I might as well do this …"

Opening her mouth, she revealed that her teeth were now all sparking wildly; two seconds later those teeth had sunk into his shoulder, sending electricity coursing through his large body. His howl of pain died into a faint whimper as his muscles seized up and paralysis overtook him.

"Sorry about that," she said, stepping off of him. "Look, how about we talk this out after we've done it? That'll make you feel a bit better, and I can probably wait a few minutes before needing to take off back to Hell. But you're probably going to yell at me a lot like the silly guy you are, so the energy'll run out and we'll need to do it again, and again, and again, and again, and again …"

"Is this what it's usually like here after Halloween?" someone asked the Spinda behind the counter nervously, as the hellhound seized the Arcanine by the scruff of his neck and happily began to drag him off to who knew where.

The Spinda sighed and nodded. "Every frickin' time."

*

Coming up next: SunKingShipping.

[SugarPesticide]

This one is Special!verse, jsyk.

*

SunKingShipping // Empoleon & Typhlosion // PG-13

"Let's see here," Explotaro began, pacing back and forth with his paws clasped behind his fiery back. "It's obvious that you guys are kind of stupid. Not the bad kind of stupid, mind you, but the good kind. Like how you stay with your trainers even though they're Pokedex holders and get into all sorts of life-threatening danger every other week. You need guts for that stuff, but also the blind empty-headed loyalty that keeps you by their sides instead of scampering off like a girl."

"Yeah!" Mega chimed in, unceremoniously bumping Feraligatr out of the way as he extended a vine from his flower and lazily seized the Typhlosion around his shoulders. "But don't feel too bad about it. Intelligence isn't important in the grand scheme of things, or at least not compared to other stuff. Like the bonds of friendship. And good cooking."

"And that's the basics of how to get the hang of the Ultimate Attacks," Explotaro continued, leaning against his Meganium friend. "But that's just the basics, mind you. It's way more complicated than that, as my large green friend and I know very well; even incredible pros such as us can take up to a couple months to master them—"

"It's actually very a simple—" Feraligatr began, before Mega jovially reeled him in with another vine.

"—assuming of course that you don't get a bracelet with an apparent stone fetish," Explotaro went on, ignoring the interruption. It was impossible to tell whether he noticed the stares that resulted from this statement.

"It all takes honesty! Kindness! Laughter! Generosity! Loyalty! Magic! And a sexy masculinity that has nothing at all to do with ponies! Because at the end of the day, it's not about the you or the me, it's the we. There's no I in team, and no you either. Because at the end of the day, we've gotta remember to believe not in yourself, but believe in your trainer who believes in you!" Mega grinned up at the cloudless sky, looking somewhat deranged.

There was an awkward pause. The three newbies glanced at each other uncertainly.

"… As a female, I take offense to that," the blue newbie finally said.

"…"

"Wha-wha-what?" Explotaro spluttered. He could practically feel the circuits in his brain shorting at this revelation. "A girl, one of us? A trusted and reliable starter Pokemon, as a girl? No. Just … no. That's unbelievably stupid! None of us are girls, you dumb penguin, not one—!"

"Toro's a girl," Feraligatr pointed out.

Explotaro waved dismissively at this. "She's a badass ninja phoenix," he replied. "She doesn't count."

"I am perfectly capable of battling on your level, thank you very much," the blue newbie said coldly. "Before I can do so, however, I must mentally prepare myself for all it will entail. It has been an exceedingly long time since I have fought on a level as low as yours, after all."

"Oooooooh, burn!" giggled the orange newbie.

Explotaro's eyes narrowed. "Oh, if that's how it's gonna be, then it. Is. On."

The blue newbie met his glare, curling and uncurling her clawed wingtips as if in challenge. Then, as if on cue, the two of them charged at each other, summoning ravenous flames and looming waves as they prepared to strike. Behind their backs, Feraligatr and the green newbie exchanged weary glances.

Five indescribably violent minutes later, three of the four onlookers were peering down into the charred, smoking , impossibly deep pit that had once been an innocent part of the field. The sounds of the brawl died away, ringing in the Pokemon's ears for only a moment longer. Everything became eerily quiet.

Mega craned his long neck downwards, brow furrowed as he concentrated on picking up any sign of life. "Explotaro, did you win yet? Come on, man, she can't be that much trouble!"

"Don't be stupid!" the orange newbie said, sneering. "Empoleon totally kicked his ass!"

"Of course she didn't! She's just a female!"

"Which makes his defeat even more humiliating, duh!"

"There's nothing humiliating about a water-type completely owning a fire-type! Unless of course the fire-type was wayyyy out of the water-type's league, and so he curb-stomped her right into the center of the earth! And there was much rejoicing. Explotaro, come on, I feel like having lunch already."

"Empoleon's having lunch, you moron. On that weasel's wimpy bones!"

"In your sick perverted dreams, you fugly monkey!"

"Lunch sounds pretty good, actually," the green newbie remarked, unconcerned about the little fact that nobody was listening to him. "I bet Dia's got lots of them, wherever he is now. I hope he isn't lost again …"

Feraligatr heard none of this. He was far too preoccupied with banging his head against a boulder sitting conveniently nearby, punctuating each painful smack with a grunt about wasted training time.

Meanwhile, at the bottom of the pit, Explotaro tried to get up very quickly, only to wince as it became apparent that this was currently impossible for him to do. "You are way too much trouble to deal with," he grumbled, glaring up at Empoleon.

"I need not apologize for my superior abilities," she replied, not taking her eyes off of the steep slope that formed the crater's wall.

"Yeah, well, you should at least apologize for your superior weight." He reached around as best he could, awkwardly pawing at the webbed feet that were crushing down into his back.

He received a smack on the head for that comment.

"Be silent," Empoleon hissed. "I am attempting to get us out of this ridiculous mess."

"Just get off," he wheezed, pushing at her feet even more insistently.

"Don't be a fool! This, the bottom of the pit, is only wide enough for one of us to stand. There is hardly anywhere else that I can be."

Growling in frustration, he let the fires on his back spring to life, preparing to get up once she had jumped. Instead, he received another smack on the head.

"No you don't," she said. "I know how this will turn out. You expect to stand as well; but our combined sizes will plug up the entire width of this pit, and it will become quite impossible for either of us to move. So kindly refrain from doing anything that would prevent our escape, would you? I'm currently attempting to dig out handholds from the walls with my claws, and your constant squirming is far from appreciated."

"Stupid penguin," he grumbled, making no effort to stop the flames. "I'm the professional here, I can actually get us out. Now would you just let me get up and stop pretending you can—guh!"

He suddenly went limp, for this time Empoleon had been rather more forceful with her smacking.

"Stupid mustelid," she muttered, returning her attention to the impossibly steep wall looming above them.

*

The sun had traveled halfway towards the horizon when Mega eagerly nudged everyone awake. "Hey, hey, hey! You guys won't believe the look of this!"

The three formerly sleeping Pokemon grunted, shaking their heads and rubbing their eyes – but every trace of drowsiness vanished as they realized what the Meganium wanted them to see. Empoleon's wing claws were digging into the very edge of the pit, and her head and body gradually emerged as she slowly pulled herself up; then, with a final desperate effort, she heaved herself up and over in a rather clumsy-looking summersault. Explotaro, who had somehow been clenched in her feet this whole time, went flying forwards for a while, bouncing a couple of times before skidding to a stop.

"Hey," said Mega, prodding at the prone Typhlosion with a vine. "You awake, Explotaro mi compadre?"

"Never mind him!" the orange newbie exclaimed. "Empoleon, are you all right?"

"Uhhh …"

"He's awake!"

"She's alive!"

"But Chimhiko," the green newbie said, as if he had just caught sight of a great epiphany, "dead Pokemon don't usually hurl themselves around like acrobats. Er … and zombies—"

"Zombies are not real, Wig!" Chimhiko exclaimed, bopping his friend on the head. "That was just a dream!"

"But you know what this means?" Mega gave everyone a look that was apparently supposed to be meaningful. "The birdie just saved Explotaro! Carrying him all the way up here from down there … you understand what this means, fellow males. She's a badass now. We are no longer free to mock her for lacking the proper equipment." He bobbed his head sharply up and down, a movement which was unnerving enough to prompt a few nods in return.

"She saved me," Explotaro gasped suddenly. He was staring up at the sky with wide eyes, as if he'd never noticed it before. "She saved my life."

"I'm beginning to regret it." Empoleon winced; even the slightest movement aggravated her sore muscles.

"Perfectly fine if you do. I know I'm unworthy of your majestic presence, my queen."

Five jaws dropped open.

"…"

"…"

"…"

"… Perhaps I should not have hit him so hard," Empoleon said, after a long moment of astonished disbelief had passed.

"Oho!" Mega chortled, his face stretching into a mirthful expression that made Feraligatr want to vomit. "Ohohohohoho! You two were together, weren't you? No wonder you took so long, and have so much dirt all over you … and he's so dazed, too. You really did a number on him, didn't you, birdie?"

Empoleon's eyes narrowed. "Are you insinuating that—?"

"Whoa, is that true?" Chimhiko's eyes widened, half teasing, half suspicious. "I didn't think you'd be into that sort of thing, Empoleon. Sounds pretty hot."

"We did nothing filthy together! Especially not in such a cramped and confined space!" Empoleon snarled as their immature giggling grew louder.

"Nothing could make you filthy, my queen," Explotaro slurred. One could practically see a flock of Piplup fluttering around his head.

Feraligatr sighed and sat down hard, grasping his head in his hands to block out the gleeful accusations and snappish denials. "So much for getting any teaching done."

"Well …" Wig cast his eyes a bit lazily over the other four Pokemon, grasping at straws. "If it helps, they taught me that there's comedic potential in every situation. Shipping potential too."

The large blue alligator only set his teeth as hilarity ensued before him.

*

Coming up next: Crobat & Crobat.

[SugarPesticide]

Silver's Crobat & Lyra's Crobat // G

"I always wanted this to happen," Zeta said for the sixth or seventh time. She was gazing up at the sky with blank wide eyes, her mouth twisted into a lazy slack-jawed smile. "To be a greater creature than any other bat could possibly be. A higher being than any of those Golbat, Zubat, Woobat, Swoobat … heh. You know, those words sound pretty funny now. Swoobat Swoobat Swoobat. We have the best ears of any Pokemon, don't we, you gorgeous beast? Ha ha, everything's so amazingly beautiful. Swooooooobat."

She stretched her four wings carelessly, shifting in the flattened meadow grass with a soft rustle.

"Or maybe it's just my voice that's pretty now. Well, of course it is. My vocal cords are all smooth and perfect now!" Her giggle rang in the air for a moment, sounding a little like a wind chime. "Or both, maybe. Doubly perfect! It's like I'm as godly as you, Crobat my love. Lyra's gonna be soooo happy. I bet she'll look even prettier now that I can pick out each highlight in her hair, and each twinkle in her eyes, and each little subtle shifting of facial expressions that can convey even the most silent of emotions. And I'm far more powerful than I could have ever dreamed of being, too … well, before I met you at least. Then you opened my mind to all the godly possibilities …"

Crobat hovered close by, wearing a frown that his mate couldn't see. He still couldn't believe that evolution had affected her so differently than it had him. He supposed he could hazard a guess that their respective trainers had something to do with it – Silver had trained him to keep a lot more control over his emotions, after all. But puzzling it all out couldn't ease the leaden feeling that twisted his insides as he watched her babble mindlessly beneath him.

"Can you believe how drab I was back then? Just a big mouth with a lot of wings and teeth, snap snap snapping at everything. How come you liked me back then, Crobat? A fat slow monster, loved by the fairest one of all … I guess you do have a sense of humor, silly. But now we're both the fairest ones of all! Destined to sweep across the skies with wings of amethyst …"

He wondered what she would say if she knew he still saw her as beautiful back when she'd been a Golbat – heck, as a Zubat too. He didn't care that she'd been a bit less elegant. It had simply been an evolutionary stage, the same one he had gone through. He missed the way she would pretend to lament her ungainly shape, with a theatrically raised voice and a teasing glint in her eye. Now she waxed poetic in criticizing her old self with complete seriousness. Her beauty seemed rather empty now.

"You know, I might try and steal some of those romance books Lyra's mom's got. And by steal I mean borrow, obviously. Because maybe now I might be able to see what the hype's about, through all my tingly bat senses. I'd have to actually learn how to read, of course. Maybe Silver can teach us, Crobat, that'd be sooo fun! As long as he doesn't find out what I'm doing it for. Because then he would smite us with his boss hand."

He blamed himself for all of this, naturally. She'd obviously evolved as a direct result of Lyra's care, but he knew it was due to her longing for him that had spurred her towards that evolution in the first place. She'd wanted to be his equal – to pose an actual challenge to him in their friendly battles, to glide alongside him without struggling to keep up. How could he have agreed to this vision so easily? Hadn't Silver always taught him to consider every possible consequence, to think ahead and prepare for the best course of action? Even as a mere love-struck bat, he certainly should have remembered his own evolution, saturated with a giddy rush of euphoria as it was. He had never paused, not even for a moment, to consider the fact that only Silver's training might have kept him together through that entire ordeal.

They'd promised to protect and care for each other; and he, stupid creature that he was, had been so wrapped up in the second of those promises that he'd disregarded the first.

If she ever recovered, he'd apologize and let her make whatever decision she would. She could decide with unclouded judgment whether to push him away for his massive mistake, or to love him still in spite of it. It barely mattered to someone as undeserving as himself, at any rate, especially compared to the importance of regaining her grip on sanity. The reemergence of her old self would be more than worth it.

If.

"And at last, said the princess, the whole world is wonderful," Zeta said dreamily, fluttering up off the ground and latching onto him in a tight hug. "Everything is finally super perfect."

Crobat just held her gently, feeling his eyes begin to burn.

*

Coming up next: ShroudedShipping.

[SugarPesticide]

Is it weird that this is one of my favorites?

*

ShroudedShipping // Kate & Darkrai // PG-13

The sky looked … painted. Kate frowned at this observation, shielding her eyes with a trembling hand as she squinted upwards. It was a beautiful blue, regardless of the vast patches of clouds obscuring it. And yet it had lost its depth somehow – no longer did it carry the suggestion of infinity. Even the sunlight shining weakly through the clouds was looking oddly close. Perhaps it was a trick of the light.

Bringing her gaze down, she blinked in surprise to find herself in the Ranger School cafeteria. She stood at the center of the teachers' table, looking over the large room with confusion. Where there should have been several long tables stretched a single spiral-shaped one, twisting so sharply on itself that it was impossible to tell where it began and ended. Streamers sagged from the ceiling and thick carpet coated the floor, transforming the room into a place of true celebration.

Kellyn stepped out of nowhere, blue eyes fixated upon her as he handed her something on a plate. "The first slice is for you," he said. His voice was quiet, yet somehow still audible over the growing rumble of the thousands seated at the great spiral.

It was a chunk of something unidentifiable, though its dark purple color and bumpy texture reminded her of a Drapion. She picked at it with her fingers, bringing up a morsel of it and letting it slide into her mouth. She bit into it, chewing thoughtfully. It tasted salty.

She looked over again at Kellyn; but he had become Keith, smirking at her as juggled twitching hands. "A little helpful, is this true?" he laughed, and bright blue eyes sparkled as the crowd roared behind him roared its approval.

Something moved at the corner of her vision. Still nibbling at her food, she watched a solid-looking wall dissolve into a swarm of Beautifly, fluttering about on jagged wings that twisted like lightning bolts. Somebody seated at the spiral stood up, opening his thin mouth wide, wide, wide, so that his cheeks ballooned to the size of his own body and his jaw dislocated with a wet crack. He swallowed one of the butterflies whole, and after a brief moment his back exploded noisily into chunks of gore and shards of bone as a pair of those wings burst out, flapping so hard that the air around them whistled.

"Watch them dance." Keith was now Rhythmi, her mouth twisting into a grin beneath blue eyes. They floated within water, brilliantly lit by some unseen source. Yet the surface lay miles above them, if it existed at all. Around them twisted the members of the crowd, or perhaps their bodies. It was difficult to tell.

Somehow managing to swallow the rest of her food, Kate pushed herself upwards with suddenly heavy arms, growing lightheaded from the pressure. Water poured into her nose and mouth and eyes and ears, turning everything hazy and shimmering and distant. Dark shapes slid across her vision, briefly taking form before dissolving into meaninglessness like clouds. Instinct caused her to panic, and yet she found herself shivering in delight, wrapped within the tight blanket of water.

Hot breath tickled her ears as two voices murmured into them. "There is always more, of course."

She took a deep, shuddering breath, and suddenly it was a real blanket, warming her back as she sank into the mattress beneath it. Two bodies were pressing down on her, blue eyes glinting hungrily as they hooked their legs around hers to pull them apart and stroked her sides and kissed her neck and tickled her thighs and she dimly realized that her shirt and jeans were gone but that didn't matter, not with the ecstasy flooding through her body and making her tremble in anticipation.

The two became four, all strong young men who surrounded her and wrapped her in their muscular arms, and then eight, twenty, a hundred of them, crushing the breath out of her with their sheer weight, their forms just barely defined but so clearly felt against her own slender body, which was nothing here and yet everything at the same time.

Then there was one, but what a powerful one he was, for his presence was even greater than that of the hundred; his tattered cloak floated on their own accord, blotting out everything above them, and she could only stare up into his searching, rapacious, cold blue eyes.

"Is this to your liking?"

"Yes," she whispered, so softly that it melted into her breath and became inaudible beneath her pounding heart.

"You will stay."

"Yes."

"You will be mine."

"Yes."

"Only one may be the master."

"Yes."

"Tell me which of us is the master."

She simply gazed up at him, her body trembling eagerly beneath his.

"Tell me," he repeated, grasping her shoulders.

"You are!" she blurted, excitement shocking her with his touch. "You are, you are!"

His body radiated satisfaction, and as they drew together the world around them burst into bleeding flowers and dripping swords as a million voices screamed in a terrible joy.

*

In the waking world, Altru Tower shook with the triumphant laughter of a madman.

*

Coming up next: SteadfastShipping.

[SugarPesticide]

Is this one #100 in this series? Why yes, yes it is. Thank you all for reading this far! Here's to doubling that number.

*

SteadfastShipping // Gallade & Ninetales // PG-13

"Hear my words, fellow shiny citizens!" boomed the black Rayquaza. She peered over the vast horde of special Pokemon, a massive group that stretched across almost the entirety of Follywood. "We have all gathered here today to celebrate our superiority over those ridiculous 'normally colored' Pokemon. For years now we have been a staple in Pokemon fanfiction, and our numbers only soar as new writers flock to build their own studios. Today, at long last, I present to you a haven that's all our own! Behold, the majestic face of Club Starshine!"

She gestured to the massive sparkly building behind her, eliciting a proper amount of "ooh"s and "ah"s from the audience. A few of the Pokemon seemed to snort dismissively instead, but she pretended to ignore them. They were quite replaceable; their authors could always whip up a clone of the shiny, and at any rate she hadn't eaten in about a week or so. Nobody would miss the puny little mortals anyway … No! Stay focused. You're not in a fic right now. Be normal.

"Yes!" she continued, stretching up to her impressive full height. "At last we shall have true recognition! And now, without further ado, Club Starshine is now open!"

Saying such, Rayquaza (Ruler of the Skies, Queen of Dragons, Guardian of Heaven, Holder of the Scales, She Who Teaches Fear to the Foolish and Justice to the Wicked) leaned down and carefully snipped the ribbon with a tiny pair of scissors.

Everyone cheered, as if cutting a ribbon were a task worthy of being an Olympic event.

"Now form a line," Rayquaza ordered, though this was clearly being ignored by the now swarming mob, "and allow my good knight to check you in."

A blue Gallade at her side, who had been standing there professionally up until now, gave a start. "Wait, what?"

"You heard me, Chevalree." She lowered her voice slightly, although considering the raucous excitement of the shiny crowd, she needn't have bothered. "It is vital that nothing goes wrong today. If the slightest mishap happens, the slightest mishap, then when the veteran writers get wind of it they'll storm up here to shut this place down before you can say 'Chosen One'. Anything so minor as a normal-colored 'guest' slipping in can and will be labeled a disaster. Do I make myself clear?"

"Er … crystal clear, my queen."

"Good." She nodded curtly, lifted off of the ground in a whirl of scaly coils, and swooped off into Club Starshine, most likely to bother the cooks and such who were even now preparing for the massive mob.

Sighing to himself, Sir Chevalree produced a clipboard and pen seemingly out of nowhere. "Sign your name and species here, good sir," he requested of the closest shiny.

"Ex-cah-use me?" snapped the green Mewtwo, looking down at him over her nose and under her hot pink sunglasses. "Does this hot bod look like a ripped dude's mass of manly muscles, dipwit? Or are you just gay or something? Arceus, you're so retarded."

"My apologies," said Sir Chevalree, though as the Mewtwo signed her name he couldn't help but wonder what sort of writer could possibly think a character like this was a good idea.

"Like, just whatever," the Mewtwo sneered. She stuck her nose into the air and sashayed towards the club, swinging her hips in such a fashion that several onlookers vomited.

A silver Ninetales standing nearby, however, was smirking after the green legendary. Sir Chevalree caught her eye; noticing his questioning look, she explained her mirth. "She stepped on my tails," she stated. Even though she had taken his pen in her mouth, her voice was still quite clear. "Watch."

The Mewtwo abruptly burst into vivid blue flames. It took for her a moment to realize that she was upon fire, at which point she shrieked and flailed about and ran in circles like a headless god chicken. The flames didn't seem to actually be hurting her, aside from clashing horribly with her dark green fur; nevertheless, she kept up her ridiculous manner, oblivious to the fact that the entire crowd was now staring at her.

Naturally a few green Machamp guards came dashing in out of nowhere, attempting to help put out the flames and failing spectacularly. And just as naturally, several Pokemon had pulled out their cell phones (also out of nowhere) and were already planning out how this scene would look on YouTube.

Sir Chevalree cracked a smile in spite of himself. "An excellent show," he stated, turning back to the Ninetales. "Though such a spectacle at the opening of the club—"

He frowned. The fox had vanished.

"How odd," he murmured to himself. His thoughts mulled over her memory as he passed the clipboard on to the next Pokemon in line. Something about her had intrigued him, he knew, barely listening now to the Mewtwo's shrieks and the Machamp's grunts behind him. Something was … different about her from other Ninetales. But aside from the fact that she was a shiny, he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

*

After a few long hours of socializing with the guests of Club Starshine, Sir Chevalree decided that he definitely preferred the Distinguished Affair Ballroom to the Hardcore Party Auditorium.

He was currently leaning against a cream-colored wall, exhausted from his constant rounds of the place and in denial of the fact that the event was still nowhere close to finishing. Taking a sip from his wine, he glanced automatically about the room at the many shinies in attendance. For some reason none of them looked tired, and only a few of them seemed drunk. Some of them had discreetly departed in pairs to who knew where; he couldn't steel himself to go up and look for them, for various reasons.

So far, the entire thing had gone off without a hitch. In spite of Rayquaza's worry, the only things approaching a disaster had been the flaming Mewtwo and a late shipment of beer for the Pokemon in the Hardcore Party Auditorium. The giant black dragon herself had relaxed a little: he could see her partially coiled up beside the refreshment table, chatting amiably with a green Salamence.

If only he could do the same. The relaxing, that is, not the Salamence. He hadn't caught a glimpse of the silver Ninetales this whole time, which of course only piqued his curiosity further.

With a sigh he examined the contents of his wineglass, swirling delicately between his fingers. Tiny wine droplets still clung to the sides, shimmering in the brilliant ceiling lights. They sparkled like a disco ball, he mused idly. Or perhaps a shiny ice-type, or one of the more pathetic species of vampires, or a—

He blinked.

"Ah, no wonder I haven't seen her," he said to himself.

Setting down his unfinished glass, he made his way out of the Ballroom and crossed the lobby, heading for the wide-open door that led to the Auditorium. A pair of Pichu sat huddled in the corner, swaying a bit woozily; they giggled as he passed, but he failed to hear it in the blast of rock music blaring from his destination.

He paused just before entering, hovering nervously at the edge of the crowd. For the crowd was indeed just before him: it stretched across the entirety of the massive room, pulsing to the beat of the music like a living thing. From this point it was impossible to see the stage, considering the darkness of the room and how dense the crowd was and whatever they insisted on bouncing so much for.

Taking a deep breath of air laden with cigarette-stench, he pushed himself into the throng of bodies.

It was madness. From the very start he was forced to put up an invisible shield to prevent them from trampling them, and though the surrounding Pokemon bounced off of it most comically, it was still a Herculean task just trying to find a path through them. It took a good half hour to get anywhere near the stage, but it was at that point, circumnavigating a pink Wailord with great caution, that he finally spotted her.

"'Ey! Sir Pants-a-lot!" she hollered, stumbling towards him. She somehow managed not to get crushed during this, which astonished him. Perhaps the dripping beer can in her paw had something to do with it. "Joinin' the party, huh? I been wondering, yessirree. I'm on the edge, the edge, the edge, the edge, the edge, the edge, THE EDGE—!"

He wracked his brain, fervently considering what he was supposed to say. "Ah … Serena, right?" he asked after a moment.

She shook her head violently at this, inadvertently smacking a Skiploom and sending it flying. "No!" she said sharply. "No no no no no. I dunno who Serena's supposed to be. Name isn't Serena. Pfft, Serena's never gonna be my name ever again. The eeeedge of glory …"

"… You signed the clipboard 'Serena'," he remarked after a moment, not bothering to hide his puzzlement.

"Did I?" He thought he caught a clear flash of worry within her unfocused eyes, but he couldn't be sure. "Wellll, that wasn't me. I told 'em, I said: need a stupid-*** shiny named Serena, don't drag me into it. I'm not doin' a cliché fantasy or a five-way lemon again. I'm not. 'Cause I'm. Not. Her. And I got a brain and a heart and a soul to prove it."

He stared thoughtfully for a few moments. She belched then, giggling feebly, and at that moment he realized what it was about her that had fascinated her about him. Nothing mystic twinkled in her eyes; nothing in the way she carried herself demanded respect or bespoke of secrets; nothing made her stand out as wise or mysterious or even particularly beautiful. She was just … normal.

Aside from the shininess, that was.

"I hate 'em," she grumbled, not quite aware that she was saying anything. "Let 'em pull my tails for all I care."

She suddenly toppled forward. Sir Chevalree reached down swiftly, crouching down to catch her before she could get smashed by the mob surrounding them, letting his shield expand to surround her as well.

"I believe you need to rest," he said softly, unsure of whether her sharp ears could pick out his voice from the shrieks of the crowd and the boom of the stereos. "You're in no condition for such … strenuous activity as this."

Saying such, he straightened up in the midst of chaos, holding the Ninetales in his arms like a bride. She didn't weigh very much, he realized, suddenly feeling … protective of her. How odd.

With a final look at the madness surrounding them, he teleported …

… to the lobby, where he set her down on a soft couch. Her silver body splayed out before him, tails fanning like a peacock's. He knelt down beside her, but his worry died away as he realized she didn't seem to be seriously ill. Grunting quietly, she let her eyes wander over to his face. Her lips twitched and, much to his surprise, she licked his hand.

He found himself smiling back.

Sighing softly, she let her eyelids droop shut. The rise and fall of her chest grew more even.

"Sleep well," he whispered. He reached towards her and, hardly able to believe his own daring, stroked her furry head. Then he stroked her again, scratching behind her ears this time. He couldn't help but shiver at how soft she felt.

Footsteps echoed at the edge of his hearing, but he ignored it. A sudden scream, however, shattered the brief peace the two had found with a single horrified word:

"Murder!"

*

To be continued in: TwisterShipping.

[SugarPesticide]

TwisterShipping // Rayquaza & Salamence // PG-13

Previously on Project Valentine:

As you know, shiny Pokemon are not canonically important in canon. The only two exceptions to this long-standing rule are the Red Gyarados of Gold, Silver, Crystal, Heartgold, and Soulsilver, though he was also given a continuity nod in Diamond, Pearl, and Platinum; and the pink Celebi of Mystery Dungeon fame, who is strangely unavailable for comment at the moment. Here in the vast metropolis of Follywood, however, fanfiction writers cram many of these creatures into their lurid stories, concerned with how few ways there are to make their characters unique and special. Club Starshine represents the pinnacle of that arrogance, shamelessly flaunting the shinies' supposed superiority.

All is not fun and sparkles at this den of sin, though: opening night has been stained with the blood of an innocent victim ("innocent" being a subjective term; for the meaning of subjective, search for the mystical tome known to scholars as the dictionary, and known to you fic writers as "the big heavy one"). Black Rayquaza, Chairdragon of the Unique and Natural Twinkling Committee and Overseer of the Club Starshine Project, was suspiciously quick in her assertion that nothing disastrous or catastrophic had occurred, in spite of any evidence to the contrary.

"Well, of course I have to admit I'm just the littlest bit upset," Rayquaza (age 1337) admitted, letting out a "charming" combination of a tinkling-chime laugh and a noblewoman's guffaw. "It's very difficult finding those who'd be willing to scrub the blood off of the marble. Still, I believe that this evening has been an overwhelming success in its grand mission of flaunting our definite superiority—"

"Shut up right there," Rayquaza interrupted. "At what point did I ever say that?"

Far beneath her, a startled black-and-white Absol looked up from the curly words on the notepad before him. The notepad was mysteriously levitating, but that isn't important. "Did you say what, Black Rayquaza?" he said, all wide-eyed innocence.

"You know what I said. Or rather, what you said I said," she snarled. Several crime scene investigators glanced nervously at her, but then shook themselves and turned back to the bloody mess before them.

"Oh, do you mean this?" He gestured towards the fluffy black quill that floated beside him, scribbling furiously. "My Quick-Quotes Quill? It's a timesaver, and a godsend too."

She lowered her head to face him directly; considering the sheer length of her neck and size of her body, this was a rather intimidating motion. "You have heard that I eat intrepid reporters who're too stupid for their own good, right?"

The Absol frowned thoughtfully. "Hmm, can't say that I have. Perhaps you're mixing up pseudo-reality and crack fanfic? Just a little?"

She lifted a thin lip, baring a row of massive teeth. Part of her, the snarling, primitive part usually revealed in fanfic, wanted to stretch out and bite him clean in half. It wouldn't be that hard, she told herself. She'd be quick, and relatively tidy with what followed. Just a couple of feet forward.

Only when somebody tugged at her clawed hand did she realize how tense her muscles had become.

"Rayquaza, this isn't the time or place," Liam said cautiously.

She blinked. "I-I know that," she said shakily, twisting a little to glance down at the bright green Salamence. "But really, he's just impertinent. Almost to the point of arrogance!"

"We've been through worse," he assured her, patting her hand. "He's getting the inside scoop, not summoning a monster like Hug-Soggoth. You'll be fine."

She forced a small smile. "You're right, Liam," she said. "Thank you."

He just beamed in response, fluttering his orange wings.

The Absol's bright eyes darted between the two shiny dragons. "… Do you two know each other?" he asked after a moment's thought.

Rayquaza rolled her eyes. "Of course not, puny reporter. I always let random Pokemon touch me without permission."

"We've known each other for ages," Liam said, though he allowed himself a smirk. "Though we haven't actually met up for quite a while. Not since the Great Trollfic Boom of '09—"

"Oh, don't bring that up again," Rayquaza said, groaning melodramatically. "That was so embarrassing—"

"But Rayquaza, it's practically legend by now! Cassio here was one of the first I told it to, actually."

The serpentine dragon attempted to glare murderously at the two males simultaneously, but she failed miserably.

"It was a bit sketchy, though, what you told me," Cassio remarked, stretching a foreleg up to his head in order to scratch behind his black scythe. "Not quite as juicy as I would've liked."

"Was it?" Liam eyed the Absol mischievously. "Did I mention that we were owned by a Parody Stu named Gay Rust?"

Cassio choked. Rayquaza mumbled to herself, squeezing her eyes shut and pinching the bridge of her snout.

"Yep." Liam shook his head, chuckling. "What a time. He could shoot lightning bolts and fire bolts and ice bolts out of his hands, all at the same time. And he won every battle and contest, obviously. And he was so sexy that he slept with everything he came across. Everything. Even us. That was a weird threesome—"

"Liam!" Rayquaza shrieked suddenly, swiveling around to bore twin holes through him with her eyes. "We have absolutely no need to discuss our sex lives so openly! Especially not to an Arceus-damned reporter. 'This isn't the time or place,' remember?"

Liam's horns drooped. "I know," he said, sounding rather abashed. "But it was still nice of him to let us do it by ourselves afterwards."

With an utterly terrifying roar, she lunged at him, and soon blows were being exchanged so quickly that it was highly difficult to see much of the scuffle.

"I do wish I brought a camera," Cassio said to nobody in particular. Staring nervously at the fighting dragons, he skirted past them and padded up to one of the crime scene investigators. "Have any of your people found a cause for the murder yet?"

"Not yet," cawed the Fearow he was addressing. He extended a broad wing, gesturing towards the bloody remains of Spiky-eared Pichu. "She was too hacked up to tell what the murder weapon could've been. And of course the list of suspects is well over ten thousand … not that we can't figure that out easily," he lied hastily. Then his beady eyes lit up. "Say … her murder'll have Club Starshine closed, won't it? Publicity'll be so bad, the veteran writer's are sure to shut down this miserable place before it's far off the ground."

"Are you kidding?" Cassio exclaimed; his Quick-Quotes Quill, which had been scribbling furiously, jumped briefly. "Of course this won't close the club down! In fact, everyone's only going to cheer at the news of her death. She brought too much letdown to canon, after all. And we all know how everyone feels about Canon Sues like her." He rubbed his furry chin. "Of course, there's the question about how Rayquaza plans to kill all those germs, but I'm sure she and Liam can figure something out. Even though they seem very busy right now."

The Fearow's face fell. "That's … that's true. Ah, shaddup!" he snapped, as another Pichu nearby suddenly began to bawl obnoxiously. "Being a crybaby isn't going to change anything, runt! This isn't Mewtwo Strikes Back, especially since that movie was a billion times cooler than you!"

"Buh-huh-hut she was my bestest fwiend!" whined Pikachu-colored Pichu. "We woo the most super special paioo in the histowy of evoo!"

"Pikachu-colored Pichu?" Cassio reached out and placed a paw on the little rat's shoulder. "I have something very important to tell you."

The rat sniffed. "Wh-what is it?" he asked, staring up with eyes glinting with diamond tears.

"Nobody cares about you!" the Absol replied cheerfully. As the rat began to bawl again at this he turned to the Fearow with a respectful nod. "Keep up the excellent forensic work, officer … scientist … bird … person. Now if you'll excuse me, I believe I can get this squeezed into the evening paper."

As he trotted out towards the door to Club Starshine, he glanced over his shoulder at the fighting dragons. From the look of it, they seemed no closer to the end of their brawl than before; in fact bits of scales and blood were scattered around them, much to the investigators' annoyance. With a hint of a smile, Follywood's top reporter revealed some knowledge that every fanfiction writer is nevertheless well aware of, and were most likely already thinking before he opened his mouth.

"Oh, they are just so cute when they're beating each other up!"

*

Coming up next: ApoldaShipping.

[ChloboShoka]

Congrats on getting over a 100. I've just read the most recent 3 ones you've done. I really enjoyed them and found it interesting reading about different and obscure pairings out there. Well done, very creative.

[SugarPesticide]

Thanks for reading, I'm glad you've enjoyed them! Obscure pairings are the best pairings I say.

*

ApoldaShipping // Silver & Houndoom // PG-13

In the grim breaking dawn of the grim future, there is only anticlimax.

"RIGHT!" the human lieutenant bellowed, gazing over his massive audience with a steely glint in his eye. The light of the oncoming morning dimly lit up the sky behind him, casting him as an impressive yet faint silhouette. "The time has come at last. You all know why you're here, of course: to witness the extermination of the vermin crawling our good green earth! At last we may accomplish the dream of destroying our subversive enemies through the use of our classic friend, the machine gun. At last we humans can take our place as the true inhabitants of the world!"

Everyone stared at him. Somewhere beyond the crowd, a Kricketot chirped.

"… You do know there's no reason to wage war on Pokemon, right Surge?" a ninja near the front stated flatly.

Lieutenant Surge seemed to deflate a little. "Well, yeah," he admitted, slipping back into his old obnoxious American accent. "Except that the glory of war is the best of all things! To fight for your country, or species, or whatever … that's a thing we haven't had happen in a long time. Look Koga, nothing breathes fresh air back into your soul quite like an apocalyptic wasteland stinking of blood and gunpowder and crap. And what better way to do it than to assert ourselves over those Pokemon?"

Something tugged at his pant leg. He had only just looked down when he was suddenly flooded with several hundred volts of electricity, and he collapsed to the podium with charred clothes and much twitching. Dimly he registered the face of his disgruntled Raichu scowling down at him, stubby arms crossed.

Koga wasn't the only one in the crowd to roll his eyes.

"Look!" somebody shouted suddenly, pointing off into the distance. "The Pokemon are coming!"

Gasps and murmurs rippled through the humans as they turned towards the newcomers. It seemed like an honest-to-goodness swarm of locusts, so vast were the numbers of the Pokemon: birds swooped through the air like shadowy darts, while beasts lumbered or trotted at their own desired pace. The fish Pokemon, of course, were not present. Racism against those with gills is an unfortunately common trait in many.

"Humans of the Pokemon world!" their leader exclaimed dramatically, stretching out his hand. "The Pokemon world is for Pokemon, and not for humans. That's why it's called the Pokemon world. But there's more to it than that: you are inherently corrupt, cruel by nature and alien to true friendship. We shall tolerate your atrocities no more! Today, on behalf of my oppressed brethren, I declare war upon your foul race!"

A few of the Pokemon cheered weakly at this declaration. Noticing that they were alone in this, however, they quickly dropped into the silence.

"What the hell, you hypocrite?" Surge blurted, still twitching. "You're a traitor to your own race, you damn sociopath, what's-your-name … L or something …"

"N!" a young brunette shouted, eyes wide with shock. "What do you think you're doing? I spent like a year teaching you that humans are good!"

"I encountered another variable," N replied quickly, as if regurgitating whatever words came to mind. He flipped his green ponytail out of his face, causing his vast fanclub to swoon in unison. "I'm sorry, Hilbert. To war we must go."

"Wait, war?" an Arbok exclaimed, blinking. "I thought you said we were heading for a land full of cake!"

"It was a necessary lie," N said smoothly.

Much grumbling and arguments erupted on both sides, as everyone vented their irritation at the pointlessness of this gathering. After all, what was the point? Society was fine as it was, unless you were one of those rebellious teenagers who had come solely to watch everyone shoot the crap out of each other, in which case why not join the actual army and fight in a war that probably mattered more than this? Unless of course they were some of those making up the slim demographic of sulky emo teens, who had never seen any actual blood outside of a biology class or video game, and who needed graphic inspiration for their latest pretentious and horrible poem. Kids these days.

So of course it seemed like this "war" was unlikely to happen, which meant that the arrival of two lean figures wasn't so much timely as it was random.

"Stop the fighting!" one of them panted, skidding to a halt in the no-man's-land between the two groups. He leaned forward, pushing his sweaty red hair out of his face. "Just … stop it!"

"Yeah, because we were just going at it until you showed up," somebody snarked, much to everyone's amusement.

The newcomer blinked. Then he turned to his companion, raising an eyebrow. "… You lied to me, didn't you," he stated flatly.

"Just a little bit." She turned her hands this way and that, examining her claws idly. "It's not as if you would've gone along with it otherwise."

"Okay, what the hell is this?" Surge demanded. "And why do I suddenly feel like all this is going to end in Pokephilia?"

"It's a long story," the redheaded boy replied, shaking his head.

"Then I'll tell it," his companion said with a diabolical grin. "You see, I'm a Houndoom and—"

"No you're not," the Arbok interrupted. "You're pretty obviously a human."

She laughed at this. This resulted in everybody suddenly laughing at her, however, due to the fact that a teenage girl in a black-and-orange dress is not a human, regardless of the horns curling up out of her head. Liars tend to be laughed at, after all. Unless the liar is N, in which case he is swooned at instead.

"Cut out your chortling!" she snapped, blushing faintly. "I'm usually a Houndoom, okay? I'm just in this form right now because I'm a demon and I can do whatever the hell I want. And also because humans find me sexier right now. Isn't that right, Silvie my boy—"

"What she's trying to say," Silver said loudly, "is that humans and Pokemon are perfectly capable of coexisting peacefully. Not that we haven't for hundreds of years now, but I guess some of us need reminding. I mean, what exactly would you gain from fighting each other? Glory and superiority aren't everything. I've learned that the hard way."

Murmurs and nods met his words.

"Although more Pokemon in the form of humans would be awesome," the Houndoom remarked airily. "That way everyone's all sexy all the time, especially if we Pokemon are all girls. I honestly wouldn't mind being part of a few trainer harems, as long as Silver's is one of them. We'd be so moe, haha. And the world would be full of frolicking ladies in dresses, dancing for our sexy trainers, and everything would be perfect! That'd be a fun idea, wouldn't it?"

"NO," everyone said forcefully.

She shrank back a little. "Okay then, so it's just me. Jeez."

Surge cleared his throat awkwardly. "Somehow … I don't think we'll have a war today. Damn it. Well, as you were, everyone." He abruptly shrieked as his Raichu unleashed a few more volts into him.

"But—!" N began to protest.

"War is like Pokemon battles!" Hilbert interrupted. "Except everyone dies instead of fainting."

"…" With a sigh, N snapped his fingers and randomly disappeared into thin air. His fanclub swooned again at this.

As everyone turned to begin heading home, Silver's thoughts were interrupted by something wet and slimy slithering down his cheek. Freezing up in disgust, his eyes wandered over to the Houndoom, whose tongue was currently coating his jaw in sticky saliva. "'Oo till tate good," she moaned, sliding her fingers down his arms seductively.

"Stop it," he said tersely. "Stop it or I'll have to pull my trump card."

She raised her face up to his, letting their noses touch. "Is that a euphemism?"

"Maybe." He let a hand fall slowly to his pants, working at them without taking his eyes off of her. He drank in her pleased yet surprised expression. "But I won't give it to you unless you're good."

"Oh, I'll be good, Master." Her voice was an ironic purr as she rubbed her respectable chest against his. "I'll be very good."

"That's what I was hoping to hear." With a slight tug, he pulled a long, thick object out of his pants.

Her gaze jerked downwards, a hungry grin practically tearing her face in two.

"Open wide."

Her tongue lolled out of her open mouth, and she panted in anticipation as he brought the massive thing towards her expectant face. "Give it to me," she growled, drool dripping down her chin. "Give it to me good."

"Okay." He shoved the dog biscuit down her throat.

The few remaining onlookers stared at the smirking redhead and the choking demon, wondering if this was really something they should be doing in public.

And the awkward and creepy interspecies romance lived happily ever after.

*

Coming up next: SnappyShipping.

[SugarPesticide]

SnappyShipping // Piplup & Turtwig // G

"Very well," Piplup said to her reflection, finally deciding that she'd done enough preening. "Let's consider this mission underway."

She took a deep breath and turned away from the mirror, puffing out her chest importantly as she scanned the luxurious hotel room from her vantage point on the vanity. Where had Wig holed himself away? There were likely a hundred places he could be hiding, and this had to be done soon – she wanted to accomplish this before Platina and those ridiculous bodyguards got back from who knew where. It was best to do it with as few witnesses as possible.

Oh. There he was, slumbering peacefully on the four-poster right beneath her beak. Of course he'd be right there.

Resisting the urge to slap herself, she hopped down to the floor as gracefully as possible, which is about as graceful as a stout little penguin can be expected to be. The resultant thump and groan was almost enough to make the nearby Chimhiko glance back at her, but the fire monkey's fascination with his video game kept his eyes glued to the screen and his fingers darting about the controls. Piplup sighed in relief at this; if that hadn't drawn his attention, nothing would.

Turning her focus back to the task at hand, she waddled over to the bed and gazed up at its comparatively huge form. This was an unexpected obstacle. If Platina were here, she could simply lift her up to that height. But she certainly wasn't going to wait for her trainer to return.

There was only one thing for it, then.

She launched herself into the air with a grunt, stubby wings reaching for the edge of the bed. Her heart leapt as she saw how easily this part of her task would be accomplished, for she had jumped far higher than she had thought she could! This would be a snap.

Unfortunately she was wrong. She only managed to seize the blanket, and her eyes had just widened in realization of this fact when another fact reared its ugly head: the bed was about as far from being properly made as possible. As such, when gravity tugged her down, she found herself pulling the blanket, the sheets, and the snoozing Turtwig down with her.

Chimhiko failed to look around at the resulting crash. He was far too busy blowing up aliens.

"Huh-wha?" Wig awoke with a snort, staring at the scene around him. He was fairly sure he hadn't fallen asleep down here.

Something shifted beneath him. Blinking in surprise, he glanced down to see a penguin-shaped blob pushing against the sheets. "Oh dear!" the blob exclaimed in a rather muffled voice. "My sincerest apologies, Wig. I assure you this catastrophe was entirely my doing, but it was far from my intention to actually do it."

"Huh?" He got to his feet a bit dizzily, then lowered his head to pull the sheets away and reveal his friend laying there. "What're you apologizing for, Piplup? I'm the one who fell on you."

"But it was I who caused you to fall in the first place." She rubbed her head, looking quite abashed.

"Aw, it's nothing," he laughed. "No harm done." He yawned broadly and proceeded to stretch the kinks out of his limbs. "Is Dia back yet? I could use a couple of rice balls."

"They haven't returned, no." She fidgeted for a moment, considering whether to go through with her scheme. Then she reminded herself that backing out of it now would be stupid and cowardly, and so she proceeded to take the plunge. "Wig, there's something I need to tell you."

"What is it?"

"Well, I … you see, I have some … oh, how can I put this?" She wrung her wings nervously. "Wig, I believe I have a … a strong affection for you."

There it was, laid out on the table. She watched his face for his reaction, feeling no small amount of anxiety.

Slowly Wig's eyes widened. Then, without a word, he turned and walked away.

Piplup's heart sank. She had understood that a reciprocation of her feelings was unlikely, but she hadn't expected it to be this painful. Was this what vulnerability felt like?

She'd been sitting there amidst the sheets for a few moments, contemplating whether her Poke Ball would be a sufficient place to hide in for the rest of her life, when soft footsteps pulled her out of her contemplation. A sudden stab of surprise shot through her upon realizing that Wig had reappeared, with a small box clenched in his mouth.

"I wasn't sure if I'd ever be able to give this to you," he said after setting it down in front of her. "Guess it's a good thing I brought it."

Piplup stared down at it, feeling the gears in her mind begin to twirl into motion again. Could this be …?

Picking it up tentatively, she pulled the lid off of the box with some difficulty. She wondered vaguely how Wig had managed to put it together, considering his lack of fingers or wings. His mouth couldn't be nearly that dexterous, could it …?

The lid fell from her limp flippers.

Nestled within the box was a tiny flower, sprouting sapphire petals that shimmered so brightly that it was impossible to tell whether it was vegetable or mineral. It looked so fragile that she hesitated to pull it up into fresh air, fearful that it might shatter at her lightest touch.

Her wide eyes turned upwards to Wig's expectant face. "Is it all right?" he asked, sounding just a bit anxious. "I'm not good with colors or anything, but—"

"It's perfect." She smiled and pulled him into a hug, careful not to jostle the box too much. "Thank you."

Across the room, Chimhiko rolled his eyes at the whole mushy-gushy display. "Wig, you totally owe me one for that box," he muttered to nobody in particular, turning back to the more important matter of destroying as many aliens as possible.

*

Coming up next: SleepyShipping.

[SugarPesticide]

I am so, so sorry for this.

*

SleepyShipping // Hypno & Jigglypuff // PG-13

The birds of the forest fell silent as a foul pedophile crept along the winding path, drawing closer to his ominous home. They were of course well used to his slinking about by now, and no longer were they particularly worried about him, but providing a creepy atmosphere still seemed appropriate. It was the principle of the thing, after all.

A few unconnected cackles wracked the pedophile's frame. His name was Hypno, because his parents were some of the least creative Pokemon in history, and they were only slightly less stupid than the parents of an unfortunate girl called Facebook. Oh, how sad that poor little girl had been. Luckily he'd been able to comfort her with his body before it was her time to go.

A sack was slung over his shoulder, thrashing about at odd intervals due to its unwilling occupant. Hypno wasn't particularly bothered by this, considering how soft and squishy his newest friend was. Even so, he couldn't help but reach back and pinch that burlap-covered form, relishing the way her plushy body gave way between his fingers as it went slack.

The avian onlookers noticed all of this, of course. They were quite grateful his taste in birds only extended to meals.

As the cackling pedophile rounded the corner, coming into view of his looming lair, Hypno's new friend dealt him a particularly vicious kick – that is to say, a blow that he could actually feel. He shifted it in response, letting it bounce back and forth along his bent back. "Hehehe, you may as well relax, my little pillow … Hush little baby, don't say a word … Daddy's gonna make you sing like a bird …"

He set foot in the cave, and his warbling off-key singing bounced against the walls. His lair was rather more luxurious then one would expect from somebody living way out in the middle of the woods: the floor was covered in a thick carpet, and huge pillows were scattered all over the place. Of course, being partially exposed to the elements had turned everything white with mildew, creating such a powerful stench that most visitors would faint dead away from at the merest whiff. It wasn't exactly the best of living conditions, but it did help to mask the rich scent of blood that might have drawn hungry carnivores this way.

With a grunt, the pedophile swung the bag around and unceremoniously upended it, sending a pink balloon clad in a black outfit tumbling out onto the stinking carpet. She bounced around a few times before rolling to a stop, groaning and swaying slightly from the dizziness. She was going to be so much fun, Hypno thought gleefully. He'd never had anyone with that shape in here before. How refreshingly exotic.

As she painstakingly pushed herself onto her feet, he realized that outfit of hers was rather strange … did a few strips of leather count as an outfit? He wasn't an expert in such things …

"What the … what the hell was that for?" the Jigglypuff shouted, her voice ringing off of the walls. "Didn't you see the sign, bozo? I'm closed for all daylight hours. If you want my services, you should've waited 'til this evening. And you'd better damn well believe I get paid up front."

Hypno blinked. "Was there a sign? I was merely picking your plushy form up off the street. I prefer to get to know my friends gradually. HeheheEEYOUCH!"

"And that's for nearly suffocating me," she said, grinning in satisfaction as he bent double from the pain of her sudden kick. Then she frowned. "Oh hell … you're that pedophile, aren't you?"

He nodded proudly, eyes still streaming.

"Ever heard of the phrase 'biting off more than you can chew'?"

"Oh yes," he said, "I certainly have. I do it very frequently."

She decided not to think too hard about that answer. "Well then. You have exactly one chance to let me go, or else one of us is going to find themselves in a world of pain."

His beady eyes lit up. "Oh good! I always appreciate it when my little friends acknowledge that with great pleasure comes great pain."

"But I think you could stand to appreciate it a bit more."

It happened so fast that even Hypno's limited precognitive abilities couldn't save him: the Jigglypuff pulled a plethora of black ropes seemingly out of nowhere, lashing them out to curl tightly around him, pinning his arms to his sides as he crashed down into the carpet with a powdery cloud of mildew. Looking proud of herself, the pink balloon placed a foot against his body and posed dramatically there for a moment.

"Ah," Hypno coughed, "y-you are a very feisty one, my little friend. I like you."

"You'd better," she said; a bit more steel crept into her voice. She flicked her hand, and a lengthy black whip mysteriously appeared in it.

His eyes widened. "What is this …?"

"My specialty." She smirked evilly down at him, raising the whip over her head. "You've been pretty naughty, so it's time to give you an important lesson. I'll be your teacher for this afternoon. Today we'll be learning the meaning of the word 'dominatrix'."

The whip came down with a mighty crack.

Outside the cave, a terrified scream echoed throughout the forest for miles.

*

No one in town was quite sure where the pedophile had gone. Oh, they were naturally very pleased that he no longer stalked their streets to find some new prey, and parents were no longer paranoid about letting their children walk around in broad daylight. But the fact that nobody had seen neither hide nor hair of him for the past two months … well, it struck them as fairly ominous. Much gossip circulated about as to what sort of horrible fate could have befallen him.

In other news, Jigglypuff could often be seen buying an odd variety of foods and leashes for her "poor little pet"; inquiries as to the nature of what that pet might be were only met with a devilish grin and a knowing wink. But that was entirely unrelated, of course.

*

Coming up next: CandlestickShipping.

[SugarPesticide]

CandlestickShipping // Steven & Flannery // PG

The mountain towered over the surrounding landscape, looming dramatically of course. Peeking his head around a boulder nearby, Steven Stone stared at it intently, then sighed in relief upon deciding that today would be a mercifully quiet day. Such days were sadly rare when one was the Hoenn Champion, heir to Devon Corporation, and Five-Time Winner of White-Haired Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award.

"Stop whining about how special you are," his gigantic steel spider stated flatly, or as flatly as a mechanical voice can be. The Metagross floated easily just behind him, with her legs tucked beneath her massive metallic body. She looked exactly like a meditating Kadabra in this stance, assuming said Kadabra was huge and blue and weighed over a thousand pounds.

"I'm not whining," Steven said distractedly. Shielding his eyes from the sun with a dusty hand, he began to make his way across the rough plains towards the mountains. Rocks gave way from beneath his feet with a series of satisfying crunches. "I'm simply appreciating my day off. The two scenarios are completely different."

"Then why did you mention the trifling magazine in your thoughts?"

"Because they're expecting me to attend another photo shoot tomorrow. It's rather ridiculous. I don't understand why they couldn't just find pictures of me from the internet."

"Perhaps, if you take a moment to consider the nature of the internet, you will find your answer."

There was a brief lull in the conversation. Chattering birds and a chilly mountain breeze were quite happy to fill the gap of silence.

"… Oh," Steven said a few moments later. The birds and the breeze reluctantly faded back into the ambient noise surrounding the area, feeling sulky. "Oh. I see."

"Yes." Metagross clicked in amusement. "I calculated that you might."

Shuddering at the horrible mental images, the young man paused for a brief moment to pluck a shiny-looking rock from the ground nearby, and proceeded to bounce it idly in on his palm as he resumed his walking. "So anyway," he said, feeling quite eager to subject, "this area should be empty for the day. Everyone's watching that hero kid take on the Elite Four. They're too busy crowding into the stadium and around their TVs to do their work."

"The kid seemed to have the talent," Metagross whirred. "He almost looks to be on the verge of beating the four of them and reaching you."

"All of the others were 'almost' to that level as well," Steven remarked. "It's pretty unlikely that Brendan could manage it."

It was really a pity that he was facing forward. Not everybody lives to see the rare sight of a Metagross facepalming.

"But anyway," he went on, completely unconscious to the comical clang of claws against chrome, "there should be plenty of evolution stones hidden in this place. It's quite likely that we might find enough Water Stones to really spruce up my collection, and a few extra Thunder Stones should add a nice contrast against that dark blue. Of course, a Dawn Stone would always be nice too."

"Indeed," Metagross muttered mechanically. "Heaven forbid we find anything that's actually valuable. Like gold."

"Oh yes, that," Steven said absently, pausing again and closely examining the rock with squinting eyes. "Gold is nice too."

"No way! Gold is a silly poison to the economy! Shiny Fire Stones are where it's at!"

"Well, they are very nice, I suppose … wait … Metagross, since when did you have that voice box?"

The giant metallic spider smirked. "What voice box?"

"You know, hers ..." Steven blinked. Then he let the rock fall through his fingers and onto the ground with a soft clink. "She's right behind me, isn't she?"

"Yep!" the person right behind him confirmed happily, nudging him. Unfortunately, he had stiffened up at this point, so the nudging action caused him to fall forward rather unexpectedly, where he smashed into the ground face first. "Um … sorry?"

"I'm … fine, thanks." With a wince and much brushing away of dust, he pushed himself onto his feet. He then turned to face the newcomer, feeling a hint of dread at whatever was going to happen.

She was the redheaded personification of laughter – it was as though his vision had become filled with noise the second he caught sight of her, beaming as widely as she typically did. She wore short shorts and a loudly colored T-shirt, with her midriff bared as usual. She also wore a vivid look of liveliness and energy, which mildly annoyed him. He knew that she had to have been hiking up here for at least as much distance as he had, and yet she didn't look the tiniest bit exhausted.

For the moment, though, she was looking rather concerned. "Are you sure? You kind of took a pretty impressive fall, there."

"Nothing seemed particularly bruised or broken," Steven assured her, though he winced as he rubbed his nose. "But enough about me. What are you doing here, Flannery?"

"Well, the Elite Four challenge today coincided with your day off," the fire-type gym leader replied, "so it was pretty obvious that you'd be heading out this way! I mean, it's not as if you go to the hot springs anymore or anything like that!" She grinned cheekily at him, as if that explained everything.

He glanced off to the side, pretending he hadn't heard that last bit.

The smile slipped from Flannery's face at his reaction, little by little. Her hair itself almost seemed to be deflating. Then, with a sigh, she said in a slightly more serious voice, "Uh … look, Steven. I didn't mean to be a jerk, I just … well, you know how people say stupid things sometimes? I say stupid things sometimes. I wasn't thinking really straight when I said that you and I together weren't working. It was kind of an off day for me."

Steven gave her a slanted look. "Since when do you have off days?"

"It happens sometimes." She gave a knowing look to the author, who waved her on impatiently to continue her heartfelt apology. "But I haven't stopped thinking about it or feeling like a guilty watered-down jerk about it! Seriously, I haven't! This has easily been the longest thirteen hours of my entire life!"

He bit his lip. "Well … to be honest, I think I might understand what you mean. I don't exactly feel justified at having taken your shouting at face value, myself." With a slight hesitation, he met her eyes and extended his hand out a bit with a small smile. "I think we can put that little fight behind us, can't we?"

Flannery fairly squealed as she shook her hands around like a madwoman, and before Steven could fully comprehend what was happening, she had launched towards him with a huge leap (which was impressive, considering how close together they had been standing) and tackled to the ground with a spectacular glomp. "Ooh, thank you thank you thank you!" she gushed, squeezing him. "You are the most amazing boyfriend in the history of the planet! Or even this whole fic?"

"This whole what?"

"Oh, never mind that. Come on!" Suddenly on her feet again without explanation, she hoisted him up by the hand and fairly dragged him along behind her as she sprinted towards the nearby mountain. "To the caverns of glittering Fire Stones!"

Metagross watched them streak off, feeling amused in spite of herself. "I don't even know why I'm here," she remarked idly, and proceeded to float off in pursuit of the reunited couple.

*

Coming up next: CommonerShipping.

[SugarPesticide]

CommonerShipping // Dia & Platina // PG

You're a clown. That's all you ever were.

It's a harsh truth, but you've known it for a long time now – even in your happiest moments it still lingers in the back of your mind, watching and whispering. You're so used to it by now that it's quite easy to forget, and you can smile and fool around without a care when times are peaceful. But it's also easy to remember, and as you remember how they look at you your smile grows fixed and your antics become more forced, just a little.

Sometimes you can wake up and look out the window, surveying whatever landscape is out there, and just forget that your double act is almost always met with incredulous stares and nervous giggles. Sometimes you can hum to yourself as you fix breakfast and genuinely look forward to another day of new sights and sounds and faces. Sometimes you pull on your hat and jacket and bound away from the mirror, putting aside its mysteries for another wondrous day.

But now it all comes back, settling into your thoughts like the silent snow that's drifting down all around you. Now you and the others stand at the top of this tower, staring out at the city below with its glowing radiance lighting up the night. It's all black and gold, dotted here and there with green and red and silver, and a billion white flakes float towards the lights like a flock of tired fireflies. Up here you can feel the massive weight of the city with its millions of people and Pokemon; yet at the same time the sheer height cuts you off from all of them, pushing you into icy isolation. Even your companions seem distant, separated by gaps of several millimeters that you could never bridge. You can't even remember what you're all doing up here. Waiting for something, perhaps, or else waiting for nothing. It doesn't seem to make a difference in this black silence.

Sometimes you pause to stare into the mirror, and your reflection stares back with a haunted, quiet look. Tired eyes, chubby cheeks, rather messy hair peeking from beneath the brim of your beret … you take all this in and you wonder, in a moment of fleeting panic, if they can see this face behind your smiling façade. But then the fear fades as you remember that that's impossible. You would never let them see this. You would never let their amusement fade. It's better to be a clown than to be nothing.

You're so tired. The streets are invisible from this height, hinted at only by the headlights of vehicles crawling below. There's a short wall just in front of you, separating you from a sixty-story drop. It would be so easy to step over it and fall away from all of this. You could become something else. Make a change. Be taken seriously. Escape the shadow of your reputation forever.

It would be easy … except for the anchor that pulls you back from that fatal step.

It's a five-fingered anchor, to be exact.

You can feel the warmth from her hand mingling with your own, even through the double-layered boundary of winter gloves. There's that slight comforting pressure as she squeezes your hand, that silent assurance of simply standing there beside you. You pull your gaze up from the gaping abyss to meet her dark eyes, which are sparkling in the lights. There's something knowing in her look, as though she's ready to guess your secret thoughts.

Not for the first time, you wonder why she bothers to be your friend. She has everything going for her. Conquering gyms and contests and entire frontiers … carrying on an ancient legacy … awaiting her massive inheritance. Servants at her beck and call. Powerful Pokemon. Connections with nearly everyone of importance. A mind that pierces the oldest riddles. She has everything, and she still wants you at her side, a common jester for the princess's court.

But these sorts of bonds don't necessarily have a concrete explanation. You know full well of that. Kindness, joy, friendship, love … you remember that these are more real than disdain and mockery could ever be. That's why you're still together, even after the mishaps that threatened to drive you apart. That's why, at the brink of a terrible fall, you give her a small, genuine smile that only grows when she returns it.

With a wordless exclamation, she points up at the sky with her free hand, her breath emerging as a brief puff of fog. There's a streak of light in the midst of the stars, trailing across the cosmos as it races silently toward its unknown destination. It's faint, considering the lights of the city and the flurries of snow, but it's there.

Murmurs of appreciative awe ripple through your companions. You can only stare up at the comet in wonder, watching its distant course towards the eastern horizon.

For now, everything is beautiful.

You're only a clown, when all is said and done … but you're her clown. And for now, that's all you need.

*

Coming up next: DayShipping.

[SugarPesticide]

DayShipping // Espeon & Lucario // PG-13

The first thing he noticed upon returning to consciousness was the unrelenting motion, an insistent vibration that unceremoniously jarred him out of the land of dreams. With a deep breath he opened his eyes, only to immediately shut them again at the harshness of the light shining above him. For a few moments he simply lay there, unsure of whether he wanted to fully embrace waking or slip back into sleep. He let his furry fingers curl and uncurl slightly, if only to remind himself that he was alive.

"I did it," he breathed. He felt himself smile despite the soreness in his throat, painful from shouting. "I fought in the depths of Vast Valley … and I lived."

"You most certainly did." He felt someone shift beside him, fur rustling against metal. "We are headed away from the field even now."

One of his ears flicked. "Shouldn't I have sensed your aura?"

"Possibly. I don't pretend to be an expert in such things." There was a brief pause, broken only by the continual rattling around them of the vehicle's motion. Then, in a cheerier tone: "You should be proud, Lucario! You must have fought very bravely."

The omnipresent rumble of millions of scar-torn feet and paws. Soldiers as far as the eye could see, teeming like ants, jeering and sprinting and leaping and stabbing and blocking and failing and screeching. Heat everywhere, everywhere, carried everywhere in a foul air, humid and stinking with sweat and blood and piss and frothing saliva. Turn every direction to find no escape, no path to safety. Jerky movements, raspy breaths. Even the birds of prey, falling, falling to the haunting sounds that passed through dying throats.

"Of course I fought bravely," he boasted blindly, twitching the corners of his mouth upwards. "I'm one of the greatest heroes who ever lived! Really, they didn't seem to do a good job injuring me." He licked his lips, idly considering their lack of taste. "My name's New, by the way. New Bus."

"I know." A paw patted his own, rather more gently than his ego would have liked. "I'm Esme. It's nice to finally talk to you."

There was a smile in her voice, a cautious smile. He decided to bask quietly in his own victory rather wonder what it meant.

*

The train pulled into its station a few hours later with screeching wheels; its hissing sounded about as tired as New Bus felt. As Esme helped him step shakily onto the platform, he couldn't help but glance around at the other returning soldiers, who shambled off as if they had only just stepped off of the battlefield. He remembered the lurching steps of a Mightyena with half its face missing, whimpering through exposed teeth. His stomach turned at the memory.

"That's all behind you now, New Bus," Esme reminded him, guiding him through a creaking gate and out of the station. "We can finally have peace. Now, my farm isn't too far from here—"

"What does your farm have to do with anything?" he couldn't help asking. The bandaging around his torso itched, and he managed to scratch at it when she wasn't looking.

"Well, somebody needs to make sure that you return to full health," she stated matter-of-factly. Fields of waving wheat opened up before them and without missing a beat she led him down a well-worn path that twisted through the grassy sea like a sleepy riverbed. "The medics agreed that I could bring someone home to let them recuperate. That war was quite nasty, after all. But it should be nothing that a little quiet farm life can't take care of." She smiled up at him again, and her sad purple eyes glinted in the sunlight.

He resisted the urge to reply that what he'd seen wouldn't be fixed by a few mornings watching the sun rise over rippling fields. "I guess it would be a nice rest after all my rampant heroism," he said instead, giving her a half nod, half shrug.

The farmhouse soon appeared in the distance, a quaint building covered in fresh white paint. As they drew near it, passing a sturdy wooden fence, the front door suddenly flew open, and a brown-and-cream blur barreled out and tackled Esme to the ground before the door had even smacked against the outer wall with a bang.

"Mama!" the brown-and-cream fox exclaimed, nuzzling at the Espeon eagerly. "You actually came back! Oh man, was the war really exciting out there? I know I heard that there was a ceasefire and everything but I didn't know you'd get back so soon or even if the group you were in needed to stay out there for longer or not. And you're all okay, too!"

She beamed at the little Eevee, licking at those long ears in return. "Oh Elle," she sighed with a purr. "I've missed you so much."

Somehow, as New Bus watched their joyful reunion, a little bit of his haunting memories slipped away.

*

Life at Esme's farm was a simple affair. Every day, Fawkes the farmhand would crow at the break of dawn, and the Espeon would sleepily emerge from her farmhouse and proceed to make her daily rounds. Fuel the fire. Feed the chickens. Milk the cows. Check the pipes for leaks or freezing. Every day, like clockwork, she would circle from one area to the next, with Fawkes trailing behind her to give her a feathery hand. Only once they had finished these tasks would they return to the house for breakfast, which the bright-eyed Elle would have already prepared. Afterwards the three of them would venture out into the broad seas of wheat, harvesting those great waves.

With his injury, New Bus could only watch them as they went about their work. He would sit on the fence, watching them move about their work. Thoughtfully he noticed the differences in their tactics: Fawkes would slice at the wavering stalks with his great claws, while Elle used a small scythe clasped in her mouth. Esme, though, would simply cut the wheat psychically, levitating and depositing them into neat bundles. Nothing sharp in her methods, just a gentle cut. Or perhaps it was a pinch. He couldn't quite tell from this distance.

He couldn't see their auras at all. They were alive and breathing, certainly, but every now and then he had to remind himself of that fact. Without that familiar sense, they seemed almost like puppets with hidden strings. It might have had something to do with his injury, but it was still somewhat eerie.

At least the memories were beginning to fade. His nightmares, once savagely constant, were growing fewer and farther between. They were still horribly surreal, with their faces disintegrating into bloody mist and their howls echoing throughout his soul; but they were easily displaced by the wheat fields, still and silent under an ashen sky, while Esme looked on with her sad smile.

*

"He's been gone for several years now," she was saying. Her forked tail swished in the air just behind her, and she gazed unseeingly into the embers in the fireplace. "Elle's father, I mean. He was always a roamer … sometimes I wonder if the war got to him in the end. It managed to get us, so why not?" She shook her head, and her whiskers rustled quietly. "There's just no way to know."

New Bus picked at his food awkwardly, his spoon clinking against his plate. "I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to pry—"

"No, it's quite all right. It's all in the past now." Her stare turned upwards, towards him. "Though you've spent more time here than he ever did …"

"Have I?" He scratched at an ear idly. "That's odd … You know, I could help around with everything once this thing heals up. Seems to be a lot more work to do before winter."

She nodded. "I'd like that."

A few coals in the fire shifted, sending a tiny cloud of sparks dancing in the air. In the rocking chair, Fawkes grunted in his sleep; the pillow in his claws slipped from his grasp and bounced off of Elle's head. The little Eevee glanced at it in surprise for a moment before returning her attention to her book, eyes wide and ears pricked.

The Lucario and the Espeon looked back into the fire, pondering on the future. Their paws were touching, but neither of them noticed.

Esme closed her eyes, letting the blurry afterimage dance on her retinas. For the first time, she felt a terrible pang of guilt – for she starting to selfishly wish that her companion would never wake up.

*

Coming up next: HaughtyShipping.

[SugarPesticide]

And with this update, we are finally caught up to FF.Net! This particular story was written for Valentine's Day last year(!!), so I'm both somewhat surprised and relieved that I've gotten this up to date at last. Next chapter should be more indicative of what my current writing is like ... hopefully it hasn't degraded into atrocity.

*

HaughtyShipping // Pearl & Platina // G

Snow was drifting from the thick gray sky, as it often did in February. The lights of Hearthome City glittered all around, lighting up the sky with artificial stars. Ledges of buildings, bare branches of trees, and sidewalks yet to be shoveled were all blanketed in a modest depth of white. Pink and red heart-shaped cutouts were scattered everywhere, attached to doors and windows and traffic lights and wherever else the residents of the city could think to put them. A faint chorus of cheers drifted from the direction of the distant Super Contest Hall, which was open even at this late hour.

But to Platina Berlitz, the elegant beauty of artificiality was a trivial thing compared to her current pursuit. She was standing before an impressive window display, a stack of velvet-covered shelves filled with creamy chocolates in their heart-shaped boxes, lush flowers flourishing in their sculpted vases, jewelry and watches sparkling with gems, and grand holiday cards that would have easily dwarfed any others she'd ever seen. All items were equally tempting.

She tapped her fingers against her chin thoughtfully, and her black hair shifted slightly as she tilted her head. "So many decisions," she said aloud, feeling confident that nobody was close enough to hear her talking to herself. "I suppose I could get him a box of chocolates, but that may be a more suitable gift for Diamond. Then again, I have never heard of a young man turning down food unless he is very full … Perhaps a Luvdisc? I am sure there are some at the back of this place somewhere, considering how exotic they are. But they are not particularly powerful on their own, and he may get impatient with a single one …"

Then, in a sudden flash of realization, she came to the perfect solution. In fact was certainly the best solution to any problem, and the fact that almost nobody ever thought of it was a quaint mystery.

"Of course!" she exclaimed, clasping her hands together in delight. "I'll simply buy it all!"

*

Pearl blinked once, slowly. His eyes traveled up the massive mountain before him, an impromptu creation that blared a brilliant combination of pink and red and purple and white and tufts of green. Unnaturally colored stuffed Teddiursa stared back at him, their marble eyes glinting rather eerily in the cold winter sun's light. Bright flowers well out of season peeked their wilting faces out from their cheerful prison. Assorted cupids and angels lay all over the place: one particularly fat ceramic baby sat quite neatly at the top, aiming an adorable arrow at who knew what.

A snowball splattered against the back of his head, courtesy of some passerby kid; the sudden cold wetness now dripping down his neck was barely registered.

"… You bought it all?" he repeated weakly.

"I certainly did. Since I wasn't sure what you would have preferred to get, and since this was a surprise …" Platina frowned a little, stepping slightly further back. "Is something the matter?"

"No!" he said hastily. "But Platina, you didn't have to get me all these things. You didn't have to get me anything, even, since there's more to Valentine's Day than buying all the things. No matter what consumerism tries to convince everybody." He tugged a bit at his striped scarf, feeling awkward. "I probably should've told you more about how people usually celebrate today. Sorry."

She glanced to the side briefly. "I suppose this was a rather silly thing to do … I'm sorry, Pearl. I only wanted to find something to show you how much I care."

"… That's fair," he conceded. He rubbed at the back of his head, further transforming his hair into a tussled blond mop. "Although that makes me feel kind of bad about the present I got for you."

"You have a gift for me?" Her eyes lit up, and he felt a light tingling in his chest that had almost nothing to do with the chill.

"I sure do." He pulled a festive-looking card from his coat pocket, and she took it curiously. "Yeah, sorry again."

Platina's eyes skimmed over the flowing writing that greeted her on the outside, and she flipped it open to see Pearl's less elegant writing within, facing a red heart made of lace. A tiny candy bar lay nestled there, its bright holiday wrapping flashing briefly as her grip on the card shifted.

"Because girls like hearts and chocolate," he explained sheepishly. "Or so I heard."

She smiled up at him. "It's perfect, Pearl. Thank you."

She gave him a gentle hug which he returned, feeling both content and grateful that she hadn't laughed at him for such a paltry offering.

"I still want to give you everything the store offered, though," she insisted, patting him tentatively on the back. "It is certainly the thought that counts, but since I think that you should have it all, I believe that I am justified in giving it."

"Yeah, well, okay," he said with an overdramatic sigh. "Thanks for all of those things … although I still don't know just what I can do with that huge mountain of stuff."

"But that is easy!" she said with a light laugh. "You can enjoy it as a mountain that is even grander and greater! This is only the first shipment after all."

A sparkling semitruck loomed into view over her shoulder, and his eyes bugged out at the sight. "WHAT?"

*

Coming up next: RukarioShipping.

[Night Flower]

Wow! I didn't imagine that someone could write all this! Love... a feeling from all forms and colours... Please, keep impressing me, maybe I can learn a thing or two from you.