A tiny plastic table, three flimsy chairs—each ornately decorated in the way only children's toys can be, with stickers and moulded flourishes. A small girl sat in one chair, while two fully grown men occupied the others, their knees bent up to their chests. The ensemble was tucked into the corner of the break room, on the bottom floor of the League’s main building.
The place functioned more like a daycare than a break room. When government drones had no choice but to bring their kids to work, they left them here—to sit quietly on the couch, absorbed in their phones, or to make a racket and take it outside for a Pokémon battle.
At this time of day, it was mostly empty. Apart from the three having a tea party.
Linh, one of the men, was leaning over the tiny table, his phone resting on its surface. The harsh fluorescent lights above reflected off the screen, distorting the images as he scrolled. "So this is Bramblin—"
"Wow cool!" Poppy reached out and took the phone in both hands. "So green!"
Linh leaned over, and pointed at the plant. "No—that's the plastic tree I put next to his bed, he's the dead brown bush in the pot next to it. The taller one."
Larry took the teapot and poured the water inside into his dainty teacup. "Mm. I'm not familiar with that species, but he sounds Grass typed to me. How'd you catch him?"
"A poor story, actually. He hitched a ride from Asado on a truck. Problem was, he was breathing in the truck's fumes the entire ride. Left him disorientated and sick when we got him unstuck."
"Oh no!" Poppy gasped. "I smelled a truck before, they smell nasty!"
"Troublesome," Larry clicked his teeth. "I do hope you made sure to have him checked over by Nurse Joy."
Linh nodded firmly, "Straight to the Pokécentre, yes. They wanted a weeks stay to be sure, but he was perfectly stable by the third. He's a tough one, alright."
"Discharged fine?" Larry asked.
Linh nodded. Then Poppy spoke up, "What happened next?" She asked, eyes sparkling.
"Well," he responded, "Afterwards I spoke to a Ranger—she gave me a few tips on where I needed to look to care for Bramblin, but then gave an offer to take him and relocate him back to his natural environment? Which is a bit of a mixed message."
"It's reasonable." Larry said, his cup clinked against the table, and he poured the teapot. "Ranger's prefer to leave Pokémon with their catchers, in hopes of more trainers. But they're obligated to provide alternatives."
He paused, then leaned towards Poppy, "Which is good, if someone feels they can't take care of a Pokémon its better for a ranger to take it and relocate to a better place, instead of releasing the Pokémon to a bad habitat. Or worse, abandoning it."
"What's the difference?" Linh asked, "Between releasing and abandoning."
Larry leaned towards Linh, "Releasing means to release from the Pokéball, so the Pokémon can be recaptured. Abandoning means to leave the Pokémon without doing that—which means they can't be put in another Pokéball, so they can't be captured if they prove hostile."
Linh thought about Casket, resting in his shadow. He thought about if she stayed angry, back at the graveyard, and no one could capture her to get away. He looked back up, to see both others looking grim, remembering about their own incidents.
A beat, before Poppy squared up, and spoke with a cheer. "So, what is Bramblin like? Is he happy staying with you?" She asked, curious as a child.
"Well..."
The Pokéball opened, a tumbleweed rolled out of the light beam. "Okay, Bramblin, you'll be staying here for the time being while we wait for my call's to get returned." Linh said, he was at the front door, just locked behind him. "So move around—explore a little! I'll be setting up some—hello? Hello?"
Bramblins first action upon being released was not hiss or attack Linh, or look around the room with fresh eyes, but instead, running away. He rolled around the corner, and the distinctive fwip, fwip, of unfurling vines signalled he was sling-shotting himself around.
"Okay." Linh said quietly to himself, his coat hanging off of his arms. "Guess he's excited. Or skittish."
There were loud thumps from the floor above, as something crawled/rolled. And then there was a crash,
Linh felt a sinking feeling in his soul. "In retrospect, Bramblin cover miles every day, putting one in my house wasn't especially clever." As he followed the path up the stairs, he rubbed the floor with his foot. "I hope the thorns won't scuff this. "
-
Linh found Bramblin where the damage was. Where the stair banister had pricks in the lacquer, where the bedroom door swung on it's hinges. And where the bed frame had gouges in the wood. At the bottom edges.
Bramblin was hiding under the bed, with the blanket hanging over, and darkening the underside. Linh lifted the blanket, and in the dark under the bed frame, two red angular eyes shone.
It hissed, air escaping dried wood, and a single seed shot out. Linh snapped his hand back, "Ow."
He inspected the red impact, bruised. The blanket fell back and the Bramblin's hissing stopped.
Linh frowned, then stood up, and walked away. He came back with a plate—a berry on top. He left it on the floor, outside of the bed's dark.
When Linh checked in later, there was no sign of Bramblin, but there was an empty plate.
-
Linh looked up from his book, and froze. There, on the coffee table, Bramblin sat. Staring at him. The two seed-shaped eyes floating placidly.
"...Hey...?"
Bramblin's eyes flicked towards Linh's finished plate. And a vine snaked out from between the roots. Long and stringy, and made of cracked dead bark. It smacked Linh's plate on the ground.
"Oi!" Linh sat up. He glared as Bramblin stared evenly back.
Slowly, far slower, another vine reached out—towards Linh's empty glass.
"I see where this is going..."
The vine slowly crept up, and lightly touched the glass, it shifted an inch towards the table's edge.
"There will be consequences for this..."
It dared. Linh caught the glass and grimaced in a pained way. They both knew there would be no consequences for this.
-
Bramblin was dozing. Not on his bed—a pot of soil set near a window on the ground floor, where the sun could beat down for photosynthesis. Nor upstairs, where the sun shines through the bedroom's window at midday, and leaves a bright warm square on the floor.
Not even on the balcony, where a long trough of soil hangs from the railing.
No, Bramblin was resting on the patio's lattices, below that balcony. The crosshatch roof, where vines climbed and clung to. Bramblin sat on top as an immobile bush, with it's two floating eyes not floating, instead face down in the base of the tumbleweed. Where roots met branch.
Linh leaned over the balcony, and when his shadow covered the sunlight Bramblin slept in, Bramblin woke. He glared upwards.
Linh walked away.
-
Linh sat on the toilet. In his hand's, a phone running a forgotten video. He was watching the closed door.
Under that door, between the tiles and the wood, in the gap in between, there were vines. Thorny brown dried vines. With the skin cracking like dried roots.
Each one were probing underneath, snaking left or right, with a curious rasp as a new vine appears.
Curious, he pressed lightly down on one.
It retracted so fast that the thorn's caught, and a thin red line of beaded blood formed on the tip of his finger.
Then another vine stuck under the doorframe.
'Krrsch?'
-
Linh stood at the table, with a bowl of food in his hand. He looked down at the Bramblin in the chair.
"Give me my chair," he said.
Bramblin rasped, and when Linh reached towards him, batted back with a thorny whip. It left red score marks in his skin, but drew no blood.
Linh ate on the sofa, sitting on the edge of the armrest, and looking a different way.
"He sounds mean." Poppy pouted, chin on the table as she listened.
Larry corrected her, "He seems stand-offish. Which isn't a bad thing to be, wanting to keep distance."
"Like you, Larry? When you try to go home early?" Poppy asked, "Rika says that's when I have to talk to you, so you don't get all mopey!"
Linh tapped the table, "He's right in some ways, and Rika's right in other ways. Larry deserves to have time to himself, but also he'd be a very poor friend if he didn't make time for you as well. Does he make time for you?"
Poppy hummed, remembering her day. "...No?"
Linh pointed at the table, where they were having teatime.
"Yes!" Poppy jumped in her seat.
Linh nodded, and smiled. "That's right—so it's not so bad if he decides to take some extra time for himself. For the day." Larry shot him a not un-pleased look. Linh picked up the teapot, "More tea, Poppy?"
Poppy held up her teacup, and said, "Please and thank you!" She giggled as he poured water into the suspended cup, with some difficulty with how much Poppy was moving it.
Larry frowned down at his own cup, the dregs of water sticking at the bottom. "Truthfully, I'm still hesitant with drinking this. Are you sure this toy is food-grade?"
"Eh, the microplastics just keep our skin clear. It's basic biology." The teapot sloshed as Linh waved it. He then glanced at Poppy. "Don't repeat that."
"So, Linh." Larry leaned forwards, elbow's on the very low table, his knees enclosed by the arms. "Has there been any issues with how Casket and Bramblin interact? Or do they avoid each other."
"That's no good if they avoid one another," Poppy frowned. "Not if they're living in the same house. Also what's microplastics?"
Linh ignored the child's question. Or rather, avoided it as if Poppy asked about where babies came from. "ACTUALLY—very well! Sure. There was a lot of swatting and bapping at first, and Casket seemed to get confused and think it's affection near the end. But they've been getting along seemingly.
Some weird behaviour, but I've been chalking that up to Ghost Pokémon things. I think they're bonding activities, or maybe games?"
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
One day Linh came across Bramblin staring at a wall. "What are you doing?" He looked down to Casket, dogging his ankles. "What is he doing?"
Casket approached, padding on paws, and sniffed and snuffled at Bramblin's roots. She then quietly turned, sitting and staring at the same wall.
"What are you two doing?" He asked, perplexed.
'Parrently, staring. At the wall—no, the corner where the wall meets roof.
Silence, studious silence. Slowly, Linh came to a choice, and sat cross-legged behind them. Staring at the same corner.
He had time on his hands, and if Casket wanted to stare at the brickworks with Bramblin instead of play with him, then Lin might as well join them.
Who was he to stop them?
With the sun shining sideways, spreading across the window and stretching its bright shadow along the floor, Linh sat in the sunspot, air swathed in heat. He stared at the wall, hands in his lap and spine straight. He admired the smooth, flat, surface, the straight perfect corner, sharp with edges and joints.
Maybe, there was something there? He was starting to feel a chill in the air, or rather, a lack of heat. The sun has moved past its place, it no longer shown through the house and stretched across the room. And that wall, the thick paint, was it always that texture? Surely not, it looked like it was over-painted, fat dollops left to dry.
Linh did not remember the last time he blinked, and as he made that realisation, he noticed how dry and itchy his eyes were, and the fatigue must have made the wall funny, too. The bulge seemed to be growing before his eyes, looking like five sausages, five small logs, pushing out of the wall in a spread pattern—no! That's a hand!
A sharp inhale of shock, Linh blinked, and the wall was flat again. The corner smooth and finely fitted. Linh looked down, his Pokémon were glaring disappointingly at the corner.
"Well, better luck next time." Linh commented, even though he didn't know what they were looking for. He ruffled Caskets fur/
-
When next Linh saw Casket and Bramblin together, it was when he was locking up the door for the night.
They toddled towards the locked door together, and when Linh moved to speak Casket gave a pointed look—an ask to be quiet.
Linh watched as they quietly listened to the door. Before Casket leaned up and stood on her hind legs, and bapped the door twice.
Knock! Knock! It sounded so distinct in that quiet night. Linh held his breath as Casket and Bramblin leaned towards the door. Listening for something above the sound of their breathes.
Linh was about to speak up, but then the ghosts sprinted away, towards the kitchen—Linh raced to catch up, and inside he saw them sitting quietly by the window, locked by the handle. Slowly, Bramblin reached out, and whipped the glass lightly, leaving naught a scratch.
Knock! Knock! They listened carefully, and as far as Linh could tell; nothing responded.
Then they were off again! Circling around his legs and sprinting away. He heard the thumps of them storming upstairs.
Linh found them at the steeple-tower's circular window, but the stairs were tall and they were fast. He heard them knock multiple times on the other window's around the house. The backdoor and the basement's door as well.
Knock! Knock! Knock! Knock! Knock! Knock! Linh took the spiral staircase two at the time, and watched as they crowded on the small ledge of the steeple's window.
Knock! Knock! And something responded. Or rather, in that quiet moment where the ghosts listened, and Linh lurked, they heard something shuffling. As if a long coat or dress dragged along the rough ground outside.
This was the second story. Both ghosts started wailing, making sound. Unearthly howls and ragged barks, and the rasping of a bush dried to dust. Their howl's were undercut by the stomping outside the window, something in that dark running away entirely.
Linh stood in awe as Casket and Bramblin stopped, something was out there! Something ghosty! Then he realised that the ghosts have left him again, sprinting down the stairs.
Knock! Knock!
Knock! Knock! Howl, rasp.
Knock! Knock!
Knock! Knock!
Knock! Knock! Howl, rasp.
Knock! Knock!
Knock! Knock!
Knock! Knock!
Knock! Knock! Howl, rasp.
Knock! Knock! Howl! Rasp!
Knock! Knock! HOWL! RASP!
Linh sprinted after them, and nearly tripped as he turned the corner, stumbling over their still bodies.
The front door was unlocked, a crack open. The ghosts pushed it closed and pulled Linh's hand towards the lock. And then they searched the house together. But no matter where they looked, they found nothing.
"So what came in?" Poppy asked, sipping from her cup.
"Idunno, some sort of house intruder."
"Did you die?" She asked earnestly, eyes sparkling. "Mommy says if I let strangers into my house they could be dangerous."
Linh looked down at himself, twisting his body, "I don't feel very dead."
Poppy nodded. "Good." She set her cup down and stated authoritatively, "Then it's a nice house intruder."
Larry was leaning back, thinking heavily. A flash of realisation came to him, and he spoke up unexpectedly. "Type games."
"Pardon?" Linh.
"Type games," Larry repeated. "Pokémon of shared types seem to have universal games, little social activities, that only they can get."
"Oh, like self-quenching!" Poppy piped up. Larry nodded. At Linh's confused look, she continued. "Sometimes my Steel Pokémon want to stick their limbs in the fire for a bit, until it's all glowy and hot. And then they go diving into some nearby water. And then they do it again and again!"
Larry nodded again. "It's a classic example of a Type game, if your Pokémon are playing together then something must be going right."
Linh refilled his cup, smiling. "Wonderful, I was thinking that when I caught Bramblin letting Casket sleep in his pot. Wasn't... exactly happy about it because this was just after a bath and made Casket dirty again."
Poppy threw her head back, suddenly sighing exhaustively. "Bathing is sooo hard! I have to do it so often! Mama won't let the maids help me but some of my Pokémon don't try to bathe themselves! Copperajah likes being filthy!"
Linh commiserated, somewhat. "Casket picks up so much dirt just from running around, but thankfully, Bramblin seems to have a good handle on his own cleaning."
"Makes sense, Grass type's like getting into water, which helps wash away their dirt."
"Not like that—Bramblin runs a special scraping stalk along his body, and that scrapes away the dirt. It all collects in the base and seems to mix with the soil when he roots while sleeping."
"Soil—ah, yes. I remember that your Bramblin's bedding is a soil pot." Larry said, "Do you give anything special, or is it just dirt?"
"'Just dirt' would be fighting words in certain communities," Linh joked. "But no, there's this fertiliser targeted to Ghost-Grass, states that it has special calcium supplements, from long dead sea creatures."
"So you use that?"
"No, I buy seashells wholesale, crush them, and mix them with the cheapest no-brand fertiliser I could find. Is the same according to the ingredients label. A cup full a day mixed into the soil and that covers Bramblin's nutritional needs. Although ever since he had warmed up to me, I've needed less. No need to feed from the soil what I give. Doesn't hurt that I've got a lot of treats as well."
Poppy perked up, "Treats? Like Berries? Or those doggy biscuits you give Casket?"
"Nah—it's..."
Today was a day of celebration; first, the expensive overseas items Linh ordered has delivered. And second, Bramblin has willingly rolled onto Linh's chest, eye's buried in his roots, and a soft scraping rumble as he shifted against the warmth slab.
It was so precious to Linh that he barely had the power to get up and actually open the packages.
But he had to get up eventually. He sat up and caught Bramblin before he could roll out of his lap. And awkwardly carried the tumbleweed towards the box—cheap shipping cardboard packed with peanuts
There were a grid of colourful boxes, all stacked on top of each other. With faux-gold leaf the lettering. Highly respected and reputable brands of Incense sticks. The kind that you burn before a shrine or a memorial.
Or you use to feed your Ghost Pokémon. Giving away your life force, through a medium man-made instead of their naturally evolved methods. You can achieve the same thing with a bouquet of flowers, or pouring a beer can out for them.
Linh got out a small bowl, shallow. The kind sauces are put in instead of food. This would be where he placed the incense as it burned, leaning on the bowl lip. Casket sat before him and Bramblin on top of him as he worked. Snapping open the taped cardboard with a loud rip and rolling his fingers across paper sleeves each stick was protected by, packed tight. He tossed one lightly away and it rolled, Casket chasing it. And held up a lighter to another. A visible flame on the tip. He extinguished it, and left only the embers left.
Lying in the bowl, it burned away slowly—a glow weak, with a singly wispy smoke tray. It gave a heady scent of frankincense and sandalwood. Linh breathed in and tried to feel it's effect—how the act of lighting linked himself to the stick, and the smoke would carry bits of his life force, to be inhaled and absorbed by the Pokémon.
...Mostly, he felt like a weight was off of him, he opened his eyes. And Bramblin was no longer in his lap. He looked around, Bramblin was not near Casket, nor was he lurking in the far corners of the room or sunning at the window.
A shuffle, and Linh looked down to see the incense box shifting. He picked it up, and inside it looked like someone has shoved bundles of dead sticks and thorns. Two angular eyes floated in between the branches, staring placidly at Linh.
"Well, that explains how you fit inside that exhaust, but not how you got there."
After a moment, Larry spoke up. "So, did you respond back to those rangers?"
"Hm?"
"Those rangers, who offered to relocate Bramblin." Larry continued.
"Oh! I want to know too! Did you keep or release!" Poppy asked.
Linh woke up when something dense and furry elbow dropped onto him. Hitting what felt like every vital organ in his chest. "I'm up. I'm up." He grumbled, sleep rubbed into his eyes. "Normally it's Bramblin that wakes me up y'know...?"
Linh looked over the side of the bed, there on the carpet, was Casket. Sitting on her haunches. On top of the bedside table was Bramblin, cackling creakily.
Linh still felt the heavy wait of something, on top of the blanket. He looked down, and gingerly drew the blanket away.
"Oh fuck that's Dolores's Pawmi." Dolores, the sweet old lady who uses a walker and has a thousand wildly inconsistent stories on how she met her husband. And he has the twitching corpse of her Pawmi on his lap.
"Oh Bramblin," fear, pale shaded on his face. A hand reaches up to his cheek. "What have you done!"
Bramblin rolled his eyes, literally, the eyes made an aileron roll. Then a small seed shot out, and smacked into Pawmi's cheek. Pawmi twitched, turning over and showing eye's conked out. Not glassy.
Linh breathed out, relieved. "Feinted only." His hands prodded Pawmi, checking the body in the standard pattern the Pokécentre recommends. Surface, to check for blood or other fluid's leaking. Chest, to feel the heartbeat or other organ's pulsing. And head, for swellings or otherwise.
No, nothing. No signs of deeper injuries.
Linh sighed, then looked away. "Bramblin—no, Casket. Take Pawmi away, yeah? Let Pawmi sleep off this... whatever, back at Dolores's place." He picked up Pawmi, dropped her unceremoniously on Casket's back, and watched her toddle away.
"And you," Linh pointed at Bramblin. "What do you have to say for yourself?"
Bramblin 'mrp'd. Tilting slightly to the side.
"Don't mrp, me." Linh scowled.
Bramblin hopped from end table to bed, and snuggled into Linh's side. The thorns pricked, but not any harsher then a dull knife.
"...Okay, fine."
Linh grinned to himself, sitting up in bed, one leg bent and a hand resting on the other. He shook his head in silence, and then looked up in a quiet moment, "... Hey. Bramblin. How about a name?"
Bramblin made a burring noise, a noise like 'mrp?'
"Yeah, a name—something to make you my Bramblin. My Pokémon. My friend.
Bramblin rasped, it sounded agreeable, but indifferent.
"I'll take that." Linh sat up straight. Thinking. "How about—"
"Well. I’m keeping him, obviously." Linh's response was quick, matter of fact.
"Even though he breaks your stuff?" Larry asked.
"Well—yes-"
"And even though he keeps on trying to break into your bathroom?" Larry parried, hiding his smile behind his cup.
"And—yes, but-" Linh could already tell what was about to happen.
"Oh! Even though he brings wild Pokémon into your house?" Poppy waved her arm in the air.
Linh gently slapped his hand against the table and cut the air with the other. "I thought I could trust you Poppy," a look of mock-hurt. "But yes, yes, a thousand times yes! He’s feral, uncooperative, and just the worst. But that doesn’t matter.
"He’s a menace, but he’s my Menace."
Male
Infiltrator
Tera ???
Naughty +Atk -Sp. Def
Caught in Southern Province, Area One.
A Bramblin who found himself in the very unfortunate position of getting stuck in a passing truck’s exhaust, and forced to aspirate the fumes all the way out of the desert.
A passing Trainer noticed him, and rescued him. Unfortunately, due to both circumstances and temperament. Bramblin proved hostile—for Bramblin has a severe irritation at anything that displays the simple zest of living. After capturing and giving space to him in a warm, safe, and food-abundant place; Bramblin has warmed up to the Trainer. Mostly.
He is a natural at using Spite, weaving it in between his every action, but he struggles with landing decisive blows.
This is my cat, Menace. We don’t know what breed he is and he is very unfrie- OW-fuck. Okay you get to go down.
Little bastard. (Affectionate)