- 603
- #1
This thread used for Amateur rank for Shelby Sirènes.
Pip sat down with their legs crossed, holding their little chingling in front of them. The psychic bell pokemon chimed happily and nuzzled into their hands, clearly enjoying the one-on-one time. It was a very sweet little thing. Deceptively so. Pip’s eyes narrowed at it. “Don’t try and play all innocent. You know what you did.”
What it did was ram bell-first into the head of the poor grocery store clerk. They’d had the chingling out for some exercise along the beach and, since it had been so well behaved around the other people present, had left it out when they went to pick up some groceries on the way home. It was common for people to bring their smaller pokemon into the store, and it had been sitting very calmly and nice on their shoulder for most of the brief stop. In fact, it had been so relaxed that it had fallen asleep.
It had been letting out quiet little chiming snores which had been, admittedly, incredibly cute. The clerk had found it particularly adorable and hadn’t been able to resist reaching out to rub at its sleepy little head. Pip had been distracted rummaging for their wallet at the time and hadn’t realized what was happening, until it was too late. The little chingling had woken up, seen that someone was daring to approach them, and responded with violence.
Thankfully, it weighed just about nothing and there wasn’t a lot of momentum to be built up between their shoulder and her forehead, so the impact wasn’t particularly hard. The clerk had been shocked, but not upset. Pip immediately recalled the chingling and apologized profusely, and she laughed it off and apologized for trying to touch the pokemon without asking first. The encounter had ended much better than it could have.
Back in their apartment, Pip was trying to figure out what they could do about the chingling’s reactiveness. “You can’t just jump at everything that startles you. For starters, you’re not very good at it. Do you remember what happened with that wurmple?”
The chingling rang happily, and grabbed playfully at their fingers. They weren’t paying attention at all.
“What am I going to do with you?” Pip sighed, and gave in to the pokemon’s demands for play. They waved their hand back and forth so the chingling was swung around – much to it’s delight. “If you keep acting up like that, I’m not going to be able to have you out in public you know?”
Not to mention it was a bit awkward calling it by its species name while they were out. They always got dirty looks from people. Was it their fault that they were bad at naming pokemon? They had never had to do it before! All the pokemon they had trained were somebody else’s, and thus not their responsibility to name. They had been calling their totodile Little Guy so long that it basically became his official name, so they couldn’t even use similar pet names for their other pokemon.
“Why can’t you be this sweet all the time?” They asked (rhetorically) as it bumped against their hand in request of more swings. “You’re half-sweety, half-monster.” Hmmm. Maybe there was something to that. What was that musical term?... “How do you feel about Mezzo?”
The chingling – Mezzo? – stopped what it was doing to look up at Pip quizzically.
“Mezzo?”
Mezzo chimed happily and started zipping around them.
“I guess Mezzo it is. That doesn’t mean we’re done talking about what happened! Come back here!”
What it did was ram bell-first into the head of the poor grocery store clerk. They’d had the chingling out for some exercise along the beach and, since it had been so well behaved around the other people present, had left it out when they went to pick up some groceries on the way home. It was common for people to bring their smaller pokemon into the store, and it had been sitting very calmly and nice on their shoulder for most of the brief stop. In fact, it had been so relaxed that it had fallen asleep.
It had been letting out quiet little chiming snores which had been, admittedly, incredibly cute. The clerk had found it particularly adorable and hadn’t been able to resist reaching out to rub at its sleepy little head. Pip had been distracted rummaging for their wallet at the time and hadn’t realized what was happening, until it was too late. The little chingling had woken up, seen that someone was daring to approach them, and responded with violence.
Thankfully, it weighed just about nothing and there wasn’t a lot of momentum to be built up between their shoulder and her forehead, so the impact wasn’t particularly hard. The clerk had been shocked, but not upset. Pip immediately recalled the chingling and apologized profusely, and she laughed it off and apologized for trying to touch the pokemon without asking first. The encounter had ended much better than it could have.
Back in their apartment, Pip was trying to figure out what they could do about the chingling’s reactiveness. “You can’t just jump at everything that startles you. For starters, you’re not very good at it. Do you remember what happened with that wurmple?”
The chingling rang happily, and grabbed playfully at their fingers. They weren’t paying attention at all.
“What am I going to do with you?” Pip sighed, and gave in to the pokemon’s demands for play. They waved their hand back and forth so the chingling was swung around – much to it’s delight. “If you keep acting up like that, I’m not going to be able to have you out in public you know?”
Not to mention it was a bit awkward calling it by its species name while they were out. They always got dirty looks from people. Was it their fault that they were bad at naming pokemon? They had never had to do it before! All the pokemon they had trained were somebody else’s, and thus not their responsibility to name. They had been calling their totodile Little Guy so long that it basically became his official name, so they couldn’t even use similar pet names for their other pokemon.
“Why can’t you be this sweet all the time?” They asked (rhetorically) as it bumped against their hand in request of more swings. “You’re half-sweety, half-monster.” Hmmm. Maybe there was something to that. What was that musical term?... “How do you feel about Mezzo?”
The chingling – Mezzo? – stopped what it was doing to look up at Pip quizzically.
“Mezzo?”
Mezzo chimed happily and started zipping around them.
“I guess Mezzo it is. That doesn’t mean we’re done talking about what happened! Come back here!”
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