Seriously, you could rename me as "Lazy Fuckbutt" and there'd be no difference. I mean, seriously. Feast your eyes on the last update. When was my last update? I don't even remember.

Yeah, anyway.

I welcome back Mr. Slithers with open arms like oh dear god so as a welcome-back-hi-friend gift I'm just gonna try and get off my lazy butt and write something half decent. Yeah, Sylveon x Hydreigon cuz that's what she did and you know me, I've got only one leg to stand on.

Note that this shit takes place in some sort of apocalyptic/dystopian(?) world. And very obviously much ideas came from GTI, which I recently restarted and replayed.

First Impressions

Faded trust; but he'd help her, anyway.

Her pink paws skittered across the ground, whole body drenched in sweat, and fur matted in blood. Some of it was hers, she knew, but mostly of the others who had dared to attack her because she looked like she couldn't even hurt a fly, and not because just she looked delicate and dainty and all, but also because she looked utterly weak. As such, with such an opportunity, they thought killing her next would be a fantastic idea, but all that happened was she just released some glowy-fuckshit and they were suddenly on the ground, body seemingly ripped apart from inside out.

But... how had it come to this? Why were they so dissatisfied with the way the world worked at that time? Why didn't they just appreciate that the world was vibrant, teeming with life, and, and—she didn't even know. It seemed to be so fine, she was satisfied with it, even if the world was unbalanced in many ways. That didn't justify having almost half the world killing the slightly-more-than-half sane bit of the world and killing themselves right after they thought they were done.

"Because pokemon don't deserve to live—"

Or so some said, but why? Pokemon were the only things that lived in that specific planet! What else was there to grow? Plants, but apart from that? What meaning would plants have without pokemon?

"—as they are destructive, cruel, and they are simply very selfish!"

Said the pokemon who started it all.

Stupid pokemon. Stupid world. Stupid universe. Stupid existence.

The sylveon's pace stopped altogether. Her energy had been depleting at a very steady rate, and she couldn't run from those murderers any longer. She could attack them, sure, but what if they cornered her? She didn't have a safe place to rest—which was what she direly needed—and she couldn't protect herself any longer.

"Are you, perhaps, a survivor?"

...Voices. Damn. A "survivor", huh? They were most likely asking because they wanted to find out whether she was worth killing or not, but maybe hopefully... nah, they definitely couldn't be willing to help her. Then again, what else could she do? Stay on the ground where she was completely vulnerable?

Seemed like she had little choices.

"Y-Yeah," she panted, legs bending backwards in an attempt to support herself. An awkward stance. She didn't like it one bit.

"Then you must come this way immediately! You're in awful shape!"

A pair of furry arms scooped her up from the ground. Her vision had blurred to a point where nothing made sense anymore, so she was reduced to flailing around pathetically. Who was this pokemon, asking her if she was a survivor, then swooping her up for absolutely no reason?! So what if she was in bad shape?! They weren't going to... help her, were they?

"Let go of me..!" she yelled (or "yelled" as much as she could yell in her condition) and released the best fairy wind she could muster. The pokemon carrying her yelped, and she was jerked around once again, but not once was she let go. What, this pokemon was scared of her weak, fairy-type wind?

"Don't do that, please. It's dangerous!"

"Who are you?!"

She felt one arm let go of her. Closer to where her success stood, but it also led her half-dangling off the other arm. She screamed, clutching on for dear life. Well, she had to admit, her fear of heights was extremely embarrassing. But why'd that bastard decide to remove his arm, huh? Was he scratching his head, or something?

She was quite taken aback when she felt something patting her head. And it was warm, and gentle, and generally just... comforting.

"Pardon my rudeness; I should explain my actions. I rescue the survivors of this terrible war and take them in, you see? I... back to..."

She was starting to lose the ability to hear properly. Instead of asking him to repeat his words or tell him about her hearing problem, she yawned. Leaving herself vulnerable, she curled up and tried to sleep.

"Oh, you must be tired. I'm sorry. I should've let you rest first."

The other arm stopped patting her head (which she liked) and went back to scooping her up properly. The sylveon was slightly disappointed that there wasn't any comforting presence hovering over her head, but she needed to rest. Sleep was always a top priority.

Hold on... those "hands"... they looked sort of like heads...

"You rest up. We'll be there soon."

...It wasn't like she had any time to deal with such trivial matters like that.