#pokemon legends arceus
I picked Cyndaquil since I haven’t seen or use this starter in a while. I do wish I get to have Totodile again.
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guardian
potato mochi
i don’t have the game yet
Hello there! You must be the aspiring new recruit for the League the boss mentioned.
My name is… well, you don’t need to know that.
…not yet, at least.
Call me Dabi.
This world is inhabited by all kind of worthless trash, such as those fakes that call themselves “heroes”, the sheep that blindly worship them, and “villains” with no sense of purpose nor ambition in mind.
Then there are creatures Pokémon.
For some people, Pokémon are pets. Other use them for fights.
As for myself…
I’m sure you can guess by taking a look behind me.
With their help, I aspire to cleanse the world of such scum and make Stain’s dream a reality.
But enough talking: it’s time for you to prove yourself to be a fine asset for our cause
…or burntrying, just like the ones that came before you.
[Dabi made with The Sims 4 and Blender, edited with Photoshop.]
All this buzz about Pokemon Legends: Arceus made me nostalgic.
I chose Houndoom as his signature Pokemon because according to the Pokedex “Its red claws and the tips of its tail are melting from high internal temperatures that are painful to Houndoom itself”, a damaging side-effect not too different from Dabi’s. It’s also a dark type and it’s cool.
This is one of the fastest edit I’ve eved made.
Kudos to you if you get the reference from the quotes above and for reading this far.
CC credit and b/a below the cut:
CC credits:
- Scars and piercings: @botrom-u1
- Clothing:@aizawasbby
- Skin and eyes: @remussims
- Teeth:@magic-bot
- Scene: kiina-scenes on Instagram
- Houndoom model: SporemanJake on DeviantART
Sneasler voice: She’s a rescue
Fugue - Chapter 7 - Janekfan - Pokemon Legends: Arceus (Video Game) [Archive of Our Own]
“I am Emmet. I lost together with Ingo.” Ingo. Who hadn’t battled his best today. “Your combination is the best, perfect!” Not that he’d made any obvious mistakes. They lost sometimes. It happened. “You’re verrry strong.” But Emmet thought they had this one in the bag. It wasn’t until Ingo chose– cut it out. No use traveling down that track to nowhere. “Yup! It was so much fun!“ Emmet ushered them from the car, glancing sidelong at his brother taking care of their partners. Chandelure in particular bore the brunt of it and despite his calm exterior, Ingo was visibly upset, murmuring soothing things and accepting her into his arms when she pushed her glass against his chest. All forgiven. Their partners loved battling as much as they did, after all.
“I apologize, Emmet. I was. I let myself become inattentive and it caused us to lose the match.”
“I am Emmet. And I do like winning more than anything. But, what is wrong? You are not yourself today.” Archeops pushed a scaly nose into the palm of his hand before digging his way into his pocket only to get a shock from a stowaway Joltik.
“I am merely distracted.”
“Why?” Emmet cocked his head, smile dimming into something more reassuring. Ingo could tell him anything. Instead he hesitated, tugging his hat firmer onto his head.
“Is it not cold in the cab today?”
“You are standing verrry close to Chandelure.” As a ghost pokemon, despite the flames, she could emit a chill. Ingo stroked his thumb across her banded surface, seeming to think.
“I will perform better after the lunch break.” It did not escape Emmet that Ingo had avoided his questions instead of answering them directly. He could be verbose, that was true, but even if it had been a bad day, Ingo would admit it outright. Very odd. He dropped it.
“Okay.” For now. They disembarked together and Emmet decided against paperwork, thank you very much, choosing to spoil the resident station pokemon by sharing bits of crust from his slice. Pulling on his gloves after letting a lagging Drilbur lick his fingers clean (Ingo didn’t have to know), Emmet performed his safety checks and approached the platform. The next train was arriving and despite seeing it dozens of times a day, his heart still sped up at the sight.
Where was Ingo?
Fugue - Chapter 7 - Janekfan - Pokemon Legends: Arceus (Video Game) [Archive of Our Own]
“I am Emmet. I lost together with Ingo.” Ingo. Who hadn’t battled his best today. “Your combination is the best, perfect!” Not that he’d made any obvious mistakes. They lost sometimes. It happened. “You’re verrry strong.” But Emmet thought they had this one in the bag. It wasn’t until Ingo chose– cut it out. No use traveling down that track to nowhere. “Yup! It was so much fun!“ Emmet ushered them from the car, glancing sidelong at his brother taking care of their partners. Chandelure in particular bore the brunt of it and despite his calm exterior, Ingo was visibly upset, murmuring soothing things and accepting her into his arms when she pushed her glass against his chest. All forgiven. Their partners loved battling as much as they did, after all.
“I apologize, Emmet. I was. I let myself become inattentive and it caused us to lose the match.”
“I am Emmet. And I do like winning more than anything. But, what is wrong? You are not yourself today.” Archeops pushed a scaly nose into the palm of his hand before digging his way into his pocket only to get a shock from a stowaway Joltik.
“I am merely distracted.”
“Why?” Emmet cocked his head, smile dimming into something more reassuring. Ingo could tell him anything. Instead he hesitated, tugging his hat firmer onto his head.
“Is it not cold in the cab today?”
“You are standing verrry close to Chandelure.” As a ghost pokemon, despite the flames, she could emit a chill. Ingo stroked his thumb across her banded surface, seeming to think.
“I will perform better after the lunch break.” It did not escape Emmet that Ingo had avoided his questions instead of answering them directly. He could be verbose, that was true, but even if it had been a bad day, Ingo would admit it outright. Very odd. He dropped it.
“Okay.” For now. They disembarked together and Emmet decided against paperwork, thank you very much, choosing to spoil the resident station pokemon by sharing bits of crust from his slice. Pulling on his gloves after letting a lagging Drilbur lick his fingers clean (Ingo didn’t have to know), Emmet performed his safety checks and approached the platform. The next train was arriving and despite seeing it dozens of times a day, his heart still sped up at the sight.
Where was Ingo?
The platform edge doors slid open.
Where was his brother?
“This line is closed.” Without waiting for confirmation from the attendant, he hurried off. Ingo was never late. Never. Which meant something was wrong.
Why wouldn’t Ingo tell him?
“Brother?!” Emmet burst into the office. Already thinking the worst.
“Wha’Emmet?” When he lifted his head from the desk, the stray ticket stub stuck to his face and ink smeared across his cheek did little to calm Emmet. To him, this was yet more evidence that something was horribly wrong. Ingo was never anything less than tidy and neat and here he was, clothes rumpled, hair damp with sweat. A faint flush high in his face set off the unnatural pallor of his skin. How had he missed this? “Emm–!” The palm of his hand colliding with Ingo’s forehead sounded off with a faint smack!
“We are going home.” Stunned silence, a beat. Two. Emmet couldn’t blame him. Not when Ingo’s brain was obviously melting from the heat of a verrry impressive fever.
“I do not. I. No.” His meek (and when was he ever??) attempts at protest fell on deaf ears. “Th’the station…”
“Will be here Monday.”
“Monday!?” Ah. There was his volume. Neither one of them enjoyed taking time off. Or slowing down for that matter and nothing stopped their trains as fast as a sick day. Perish the thought. Emmet’s ears were ringing.
“I know you do not like it.” Did Ingo even realize how much of his weight Emmet had hold of? Or which way was up? With the way he swayed, he didn’t think so. “I will stay with you.” Because Ingo would not rest otherwise. He’d be up and about doing all manner of paperwork and strategy.
“I do not like it…but…” Now the hand not gripping Emmet’s shoulder for dear life rose to his temple as he closed his eyes against the no doubt spinning office. “Now that I am standing…it is disagreeable.” Worried, Emmet steadied him further with an arm around his waist, eyeing fluttering lashes with concern.
“Ingo?”
“All is, well, not well, but I will be fine after some rest.” The words faded in and out as though echoing down one of the longer tunnels.
“We will take a taxi.” Ingo didn’t argue.
Ingo was panting harshly by the time Emmet helped him kick his shoes off, swallowing hard and navigating by touch to his bedroom with his help. Headache. Nausea. Emmet had the sneaking suspicion he’d come down with the flu sweeping like a runaway train through the depot.
“Sit here, Ingo.” Gentle, quiet. His brother nodded miserably against his neck as he sat on the bed, shivering with chills once Emmet withdrew his body heat. “Change, I will be back with some medicine. Should help.”
“Hm.” Uncharacteristically quiet. Emmet did not like it.
Nor did he like that Ingo was in the same spot and still dressed in his uniform. He set the bottles of medications and glass of water aside, kneeling to get a better look at his face. Carefully, Emmet lifted the hat away, running ungloved fingers through tangled, sweaty silver-gray locks, grinning at the way Ingo leaned into his hand. He was very, very warm though very, very cold at the same time judging by his trembling and he whined when Emmet pulled away to loosen his tie and guide his arms out of the long coat trapping all the heat in.
“S’cold…”
“I am Emmet and I will tuck you in soon.” Pausing in getting Ingo comfortable for bed, he had him take some fever reducers with a few sips of water. “Slow, brother, too fast and you will be sick.” Next, his stiff uniform trousers, socks and button down, leaving him in his sweat-soaked undershirt and briefs. “This will not do.” Keeping a hand on his knee to steady him as Ingo’s fingers were already digging into the mattress for balance, Emmet fumbled in the bedside drawer for a comfortable sleep shirt.
“‘M’met.”
“What do you need, Ingo?” He wrestled his arms out and then in, cupping his too-warm cheek to glance into glassy, fever-bright eyes.
“I do not…not feel well.” He made a soft, sad sound that tore at Emmet’s heart. “Need’a. Lay down.”
“Okay. We can do that.” Emmet held the glass for one more shaky swallow, not admitting he was feeling shaky himself, before helping Ingo under the quilts. It had been a long time since either of them were this sick.
“Sorry…” exhaled on a shuddering breath, Ingo melted under the cold cloth Emmet folded over his eyes.
“None of that. You get some sleep and I will check on you later.”
Emmet kept the door cracked so he could hear his brother if he called out, peeking in now and then to make certain he slept peacefully. Despite the slight wheeze on his breath, Ingo rested deep and well, weighted down by the proper combination of medications. Right on schedule he woke an exhausted Ingo for another dose and some water, swiping down his much cooler face with a refreshed cloth before turning in himself just across the hall.
Not long after midnight Emmet jolted awake to a figure wavering in the dimly lit doorway.
“Ingo?” As the younger brother (even by just shy of ten minutes, it counts, Ingo) Emmet was the more likely of the two to crawl into the other’s bed after a nightmare or hard time sleeping. He’d already drawn back the covers before his sleep-rough voice drifted over the shadows.
“I cannot sleep.” He was wrapped in his own comforter and flopped into the space Emmet made for him. “I have been having trouble sleeping for longer than I would like to admit.” Ingo spoke to the ceiling and the tree limbs in their shady lattice. He didn’t flinch when Emmet tested his temperature with the back of his fingers. Much improved but he would need another round in the morning. And sleep. As many naps as Emmet could get him to take. Bouts of insomnia weren’t uncommon for Ingo. It was no wonder he was knocked down so hard. “I thought I could get through the day but it appears as though I was wrong.” He sighed and it was full of sorrow. “I let Chandelure become hurt because of it.” Emmet thought his eyes were suspiciously bright in the reflected light filtering in from the window.
“We will do better next time.” He tugged his burritoed brother into his arms, tucking his forehead into the space between his shoulder and neck. “Next time you will tell me when it is hard to sleep and I, Emmet, will make you that tea you like.” Moisture slipped down his collarbone. He ran his hand up and down the shallow seam of Ingo’s spine.
“I can make it for myself.” Emmet laughed and held his brother tighter.
“I can make it much better.”
thank you to everyone following this comic! please consider part 10 the “end of season 1”. i have more stuff planned out for the future and i hope you enjoy what is to come!
(part 10)
this time around’s no different, i’ve played with chance like you. i’ve loved to toy with fate, but, oh, i didn’t have a clue—
THAT I WOULD LOSE! oh, i would LOSE! between my left and right, one day i’d have to choose! “you’re not like me, i’m not like you, i’m not who these things happen to!”
AND THAT’S EXACTLY WHAT YOU SAY BEFORE THEY DO!
—
— (part 9) we only ever notice what’s in front of us. read over my shoulder, breathing down my neck. are we on the same page yet, i’m getting old here! come on, don’t you get it? wha—
… ？
？？？
Somehow I love how INCREDIBLY annoying Melli is but I feel like Adaman is slowly losing his braincells…
Only in Legends Arceus can you have a 10 feet tall Garchomp scold the mighty Dialga you just caught for being a big bully
sketch from class. really wish there was some long wavy hair in legends arceus. also i wanna take my shoes off. I just wanna be a feral child, is that too much to ask?
