AN: Plot bunny would not leave me alone, but now that it's written I can safely say hell no I'm not ever pursuing this as a full fic. I just do not have the energy it would take to make this work. I just don't. Thanks as always go out to Functionality for betaing the things that crawl out of my mind.

Right, this is my… journal, or maybe word vomit repository is the better descriptor. My name, or my new name, is Gray. Yeah, it is a stupid name but so are Red, Blue, Yellow and Gold, whoever they're supposed to be, damn vague notes. I didn't pick the name, and I can't even bitch at the ones who did because they're dead.

I'm not normal.

I have, or at least had, vague washed out memories of a past life. With the exception of a few incredibly vague notes I left myself, which mostly boil down to "kill idiot criminals in stupid uniforms that refer to themselves as members of any kind of team" I have very little of that information left.

Really the only thing left is the memory of my death. Electrocuted on the job while welding in a tank no one would check till the end of the shift. Chest pain followed by blackness, followed by a distant light. Then a sudden yank that dragged me through an expanse of dark purple mist.

Growing up in an orphanage… sucked. It sucked, alright? I was too damn mature for my age most of the time and a spastic idiot when child brain overrode weird past life maturity. Got ostracized for it and immediately fell back on old habits by haunting the library and spending as much time as possible with my nose buried in books.

That turned into its own torture.

The details eluded me even then but I knew then and still know now with a soul deep frustration that my old world for all that it was generally dull and uninteresting possessed a plethora of amazing stories. This world is vast and wonderful and terrible… and the writers are a hoard of uninspired hacks so enamored with the insanity of our reality that they fail to craft anything unique or interesting.

Yes, ok, Pokémon are amazing, but every story, movie and show, everything focuses on them and because of that these hacks never really branch out to the kind of craziness I know you can get from a solid sci fi or fantasy novel. Don't even bring up superheroes because if I have to look at one more comic or manga about a flexing Machamp that punches his way to victory while wearing luchadores mask, I will commit bloody violent murder.

Which led to my hobby of writing fiction… I feel like I used to do this. Like I used to be good at it. But I've had to learn all over from scratch which is… frustrating, and the fact I have no one to show my work feels wrong. Like something important is missing. I keep at it anyway because it's the only way I'll ever see some of my favorite genres flourish even if I have to make concessions and include Pokémon. There just isn't any getting around that fact. If I don't I doubt it will sell. I just have to make sure they aren't the focus. Borderline impossible for some of my ideas, but what other choice is there? You have to make concessions for the target audience.

It also led me to reading non fiction, which, blegh, but Pokémon are interesting enough to make it worthwhile, usually.

But now at the "mature" age of fifteen it's time, get a pokeball, get kicked out of the orphanage, go try and make something of yourself by collecting a few lumps of shiny metal that say you won an exhibition fight. Passed some arbitrary skill milestone. And then either get sponsored to do more televised fights, get a job that requires a certain amount of skill as a monster tamer, find a job that requires no real skill, or cough up enough money to continue schooling.

Basically, it's all shit.

I'm pretty sure I was barely mature enough to live on my own as a grown adult. If anyone had asked old me to do that at fifteen while properly caring for six monsters that can kill me dead, I'd have died. I might still die. Oddly enough I'm sort of ok with that fact. Death isn't as scary when you know it's not the end. Pain can be. And there are fates worse than death. But I know just enough to know that there are a bunch of lunatics out there that want to poke the Legendries and that they're all backed by costume-wearing followers. There are no guarantees with shit like that, but ghosts are powerful, and lethal, and fascinating.

I think it's supposed to sort itself out. But I'm aware of this thing called the Butterfree effect so that's not a guarantee of anything. This world can be lethal to even the most prepared. The only real safety you can find is strength.

I've been working on my aura. My reincarnation left me with a predictable type alignment, it isn't very strong yet, but better than unaligned and untrained. Putting a knife on the end of a stick might not be much of a weapon but it's enough to give a human a good chance against a lot of first stage bug and normal type Pokémon. The only thing I really need still, is a Pokémon.

I know just the thing. There's a bar where the veterans from the war go when they need to vent and scream and drink to forget. The rafters of the porch are a favorite hiding place for a small group of Shuppet. They're attracted by the emotions.

They always give me curious looks when I walk past. With a little luck one will be curious enough to tag along. And I've already started work on… well information on ghost types is limited so it might not work, and I won't offer it anytime soon, not until we're real friends, but it isn't hard to make a doll and leave out the stuffing. I've got a few ideas…

Anyway, having a ghost that likes me enough to vouch for me to others, and get between me and an angry ghost is a must have if I'm going to be a ghost type specialist.

I'd start with a Misdrevous if I could, but I'd have to travel to find one. Ghastly was a tempting second choice, but the old cemetery where they live is a death trap. A vengeful Gengar moved in after the war. A Shuppet is just the easiest option. Then I can go into the forest looking for a Phantump. After that… I'll figure the rest out later. Frankly trying to raise two ghosts sounds like more than enough of a challenge to start. It would keep me plenty busy and stressed. At least until we're all settled together. Yeah, start with two to make sure I'm not going to get myself extra dead. Raise them up a bit, then go from there.

So, reiterating. Died. Reincarnate into the world of pocket monsters. Have stupidly weak super power innate to everyone that most people never bother developing, and mine is ghost flavored. Stupid backstory for this new life is dull, uninteresting, and not to be spoken of further. Plan for the future; catch two of the nicer ghost types, build bonds with them. Evolve them. Recruit more spooky specters that my two well established monster friends will defend me from if necessary. Get stronger. Write for fun, profit, and cultural revolution. Murder the ever loving fuck out of criminals in themed outfits because at best they want to separate me from my, hopefully, found family of monsters. And at worst they want to poke gods and demons and nature spirits with sticks.

It's a little vague, but I think it has promise. Man, I really hope this works.

{}{}{}{}

Standing out in front of The Thirsty Ponyta at ten am, well before the lunch crowd arrive and as bright as it'll get was mostly so I wouldn't be interrupted by traumatized vets trying to keep the 'stupid kid' away from the ghosts they were perfectly happy to ignore… or maybe having ghost aligned aura just let me see the damn things and no one else even knew that they lived here? I… huh, I'd never actually checked that. One more thing on the to do list I suppose.

Off topic. It's not dark out which might save me if they take offense and attack as a swarm. But no one is here right now to chase me off before I can try. It's now or never.

Deep breath, three steps forward, look up. Eight sets of eyes blinked down at me.

"Hi." Great start Gray, keep it going. "I'm going to start my journey soon. I'm… you can feel it right? That I've got a bit of ghost in me, my aura I mean?"

The Shuppet didn't answer but they drifted a little lower.

"I used to remember my past life, not all of it but bits, and I left some notes when I realized I was starting to forget. Mostly those boil down to "be paranoid because criminals in color coded outfits want to poke the Legendary Pokémon with sticks," the eyes widened and some drifted closer or farther away, "and the ones who don't are happy to steal people's Pokémon, break up teams, families."

Now there was a divide: four of the little puppet Pokémon hovered in front of me and the others stuck to the rafters like the only port safe from a storm.

"I'm…" Honesty, be honest, don't misrepresent or lie. They aren't faé but they're just as likely to hold a grudge. "I don't really care about being the world's greatest trainer, I don't want a job running a gym, or working for the league, or being part of the elite four. I want to write stories. And make a few friends, and honestly, I want to learn more about ghost type Pokémon because half of everything I can find about you guys is contradictory or vague scary stories. You're fascinating." I shrugged and a couple of them puffed up in apparent pride.

"I know there are crazy people out there looking to do all kinds of harm, but I don't know names, or dates or locations not unless I stumble across some kid named Ash with a Pikachu and just follow him forever. I just know that shit might happen and if it does the only way to be safe is to be strong enough to flatten people who are at least strong enough to be gym leaders, or really weak but travel in large groups. I'm not even sure if I should go looking for that trouble once I have a strong team, or if it would be better to just hole up and hope things work out like they're meant to. But… I know death isn't the end so I'm willing to send some people off if they want to take me from my future team, or if they really are going to poke legendries. I'm hoping one of you will agree to come with me? Even if I don't have a real plan yet beyond getting stronger just in case."

The four that came low to float in front of me exchanged glances and words, shooting me looks between words.

Then two drifted back into the rafters and two stayed.

"Wait, both of you?" They bobbed up and down, nodding. "I, ok. I'd be a bit of an idiot to say no, wouldn't I?" They bobbed again, smiling brightly.

This could set me back. I only had three pokeballs. But ghost types are rare, and these two wanted to come with me. Catching a ghost type against its will is asking to get killed someday. Variety be damned, I was not going to be picky, not this early in my journey.

"Ok."

I pulled out and held up two pokeballs. The pair of Shuppet shared one last glance before headbutting the balls. Three seconds and the world's most satisfying chime later I breathed out a sigh.

"Well, that went better than expected."

Now I just need to train two ghosts, sew a pair of full sized dolls, train my own meager abilities, find more team members, write some genre redefining novels, and not die a pointless death at a young age… fuck me this is going to be so much work.

AN: Aaaaaaand that's where my motivation for this idea runs out. Yes, I had some cool ideas for shuppet evolution, and yeah the idea of someone in Pokémon who's more interested in refining the art of murder for those really really bad days sounds interesting and fucking with my own personality to the point I'd make an interesting protagonist sounds amusing. BUT, just writing this one chapter I found myself looking up all the ghost types, move lists, type advantage charts, just… no. Fuck no. I do not have the energy, or motivation, or any kind of long term plan that I would need to actually write this. Just wow I really really do not want to write a Pokémon fic. Read? absolutely! Write? Not unless I was getting paid enough to quit my job.