The Way of Danshoku (humor; gym leaders; 3/3)

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Thread: The Way of Danshoku (humor; gym leaders; 3/3)

  1. #1
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    Default The Way of Danshoku (humor; gym leaders; 3/3)

    Title: The Way of Danshoku
    - chapter characters: Morty, Falkner
    Rating: PG-13
    Genre: (really bad and perverted) Humor
    Warnings: implied sexual references of YAOI/SLASH/HOMOEROTICA/ENTER-CHOICE-WORD-HERE, usage of stereotype, suspension of belief, fourth wall breakage, script format
    Notes: The most 'shippy thing I ever wrote for Pokémon in full. For TIP specifically, because she suggested it...somehow. And then other people liked it as well (I honestly can't see why) when I wrote it one and a half years ago. So. Here you go.
    The only thing altered since its make were the typos and some emoticons. Part 1/3

    It's Came...From Outer Space!

    It was Thursday. Thursdays were the most anticlimactic and slowest days of the week. The barrier before Fridays, the taunting time of endless expansion. Thursdays made people Bored. And being Bored is a dangerous state of mind. And this Thursday would end in particular pandemonium.

    Depending on what country you came from, anyway.

    Morty was Bored. Granted, unless Granna was there beating into him his requirements to take over the family upon her death, or there was some sort of danger involving trainers and the Burnt Tower, or Eusine was plotting mad, hare-brain schemes to capture Suicune (really, his last one involved a hairbrush, chewing gum, matches, and Sabrina's old Voodoo dolls), Morty was always Bored. And now, he was Itchy. Bored and Itchy. And he couldn't get rid of this Itch by himself -- he already tried several times before noon. What Morty needed was a second party to do the Itching for him. A very special second party.

    Which is why he was staring at the big, spiralling tower that was Violet City's gym...which housed the perfect Itchscratcher he could ever wanna tap-- er, use-- no, invest in. Yes, that's it, 'invest in'. ...In... Heheheh.

    Morty: *stare*

    Let it be known: big, spiralling towers made Morty hot. And even Itchier.

    Inside, like two floors from the top, the person Morty was most looking forward to finding was...doing things that people who don't get Itchy (very often) tend to do. Homework. Yes, this authoress has pulled the stops and made Falkner, like, 16 or 17 instead of the usual low 20's, because she needed an excuse. Don't like it, take it up with her lawyer. Anyway.

    There he was, mulling over the history of breeding (of pokémon, you pervert), when suddenly, he was glomped from behind. And he almost fell out of his beanbag chair (because they are the coolest inventions /ever/), after screaming and flailing like a sissyboy.

    Morty: *like a leech* ^____^ Falkner!

    Falkner: @.x Wha-- Morty?! What are you doing here??

    Morty: *rubs his cheek against Falkner's; surely the Itch is driving him crazy* Because I've missed you and I like you and your gym is very suggestive and I wanted to see you. Is that a crime?

    Falkner: *blushing like the uke he's supposed to be here*

    Morty: *rearranges himself so that Falkner's between his legs and his back is pressed tight to Morty's chest* But nothing. Yours is cute, though. And by the looks of things-- *indicates all the textbooks and old tomes and notebook paper everywhere* --you could use a break. *husky* Wanna play...?

    All the warning bells were going off in Falkner's head, shouting, "Evasive maneuvers! Emergency, emergency! Hands not authorized for clearance that far south! Evade, evade!" But he was kind of anchored to his beanbag chair, so the best he could manage was grabbing Morty by the wrists and pulling them away from his beltline. Hopefully, it'd be a hint.

    Falkner: Ah...ha, no. No, I can't. Work. Have work to do.

    Morty: *tactic change* *whines* Oh come on. Just one 'game'? I promise I'll be gentle.

    Falkner: No, I can't! I have stuff to finish! Due tomorrow! I can't stop right now!

    Morty: *pouts* That's no fair. I came all this way to see you and I'm passed over for-- *grabs one of the books* --Know Your Pokémon's Body: A Guide to Long Run Care? I'm hurt. You're so cold! *pause* *tactic change* *purrs* Lemme warm you up.

    And there's a struggle, of sorts. Mostly just Morty upsetting his own balance as he made for Falkner's neck, and the whole falling-to-one-side problem became Falkner's advantage, as he, the prey, managed to escape the clutches of the hungry hunter, because Morty obviously isn't a very good one. He pouted, for real, from the floor as Falkner got to his feet, putting some distance between them.

    Falkner: Why me?? I'm sure if you whistled, Eusine would come running back for whatever you think you need me for.

    Morty: Because.

    Falkner: ...Because...?

    Morty: *doe eyes* Because you're cute'n'sexy and Eusine just pretends I'm Suicune anyway so it's not exactly healthy to indulge him, and you're here and I'm here and I'm ready, so please??

    Falkner: >_@ No!

    Morty: *bigger doe eyes* But why noooot??

    That was a very good question. Morty was, after all, a very hot man; men, women, children, and senior citizens all wanted to have his ass or let him have theirs. Which meant Falkner had to come up with some sort of believable answer, or Morty would continue until he got his way. Which /would/ happen eventually and Falkner couldn't afford the wasted time.

    Falkner: Be...cause...I... *lightbulb* I'm not good at it!

    And there was a long silence.

    Morty: *suddenly very devastated-looking* Not...good at it?

    Falkner: {Oh thank you Lugia.} *hasty nodding* Extremely not good at it! You can even ask Will! He knows! *lying*

    Morty: *buying it* He does?

    Falkner: Yes, yes! I suck-- I mean, stink-- no, I'm...I'm terrible. Okay? I'm the last person you should even think about doing it with.

    Morty: *appears broken hearted, which is stupid, because it's just [censored]* ...Okay, I'll leave you alone. *removes himself from the beanbag chair, the room, the floor, and then the entire gym*

    And while Falkner doesn't feel good about the fib he told and the response he got him, he was alone, and could go back to his work. If only feeling a bit guilty. He'd apologize later. Like, tomorrow. On Friday.

    End Act 1


    Shipping Mathematics:
    Morty + Falkner = Honorshipping
    Falkner + Will = Totemshipping
    Avatar artwork by アカネ
    PRIA is my haunt, 45500 is my identity,
    the black stronghold is my fortress.

  2. #2
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    Title: The Way of Danshoku (the second story)
    - chapter characters: Morty, Brawly, Shawna (plus fangirls), Wallace
    Rating: PG-13
    Genre: (really bad and perverted) Humor
    Warnings: implied sexual references of YAOI/SLASH/HOMOEROTICA/ENTER-CHOICE-WORD-HERE, usage of stereotype, suspension of belief, fourth wall breakage, script format
    Notes: The only thing altered since its make were the typos and some emoticons. Part 2/3

    the second story

    See, some things weren't so bright an idea. Some things were better left unquestioned. Some things you just can't have. So when the authoress says Morty found himself in Dewford Town after only an hour's voyage, you don't ask how or why. You will just nod your head, get comfy, and take it like a man. Even if you're not.

    So, in essence, it was still Thursday. A Thursday Brawly was using to clean up his house. That's lame, you must be thinking. The authoress disagrees. Because Brawly just so happened to be doing the dusting while wearing something very similar to what Daisy Duke once wore 25 years ago. Hot pants, mainly, with a blue-plaid shirt tied at the ends (thus leaving nothing to the imagination concerning how hard-packed his abs are). And bare feet, I suppose. Let's not forget the walkman at his waist, and those earplugs they call headphones in place, and he's shakin' his booty left and right, and if you were peaking through the window, like Shauna and her fellow fangirls were, you just may catch him mouthing bits and pieces of the song, 'The Bad Touch' with mighty exuberance.

    Buckets are to your left. Please mop up whatever it doesn't catch.

    Oh, and the little Makuhita was helping out. But authoress, you must be crying, his Makuhita evolved into a Hariyama! So? The authoress likes Makuhita better! If you're worried over continuity, just repeat this mantra: this is a new pokémon, like, Hariyama's offspring, or something. If you don't care, then it's the same Makuhita from before, sans the evolving. Moving on.

    By some miracle, Brawly caught the sound of the doorbell, even over the blaring, [censor]-'em-up music, and was forced to stop, much to the displeasure of the peeping toms--er, queens. And so, Brawly opened his front door, to find Morty on his step, soaking wet and on the verge of tears. Now, Brawly knew Morty wasn't supposed to drop by until next Tuesday; Tuesdays being a day just slightly less slower than Thursdays, but you don't care about that. You just want the pr0n. Freaks.

    Brawly: *eyes his unexpected guest* ...You're taking your clothes off before you're comin' in, dude.

    Morty, being so pathetically distraught, stripped down to just his pants. Yes, even the socks were gone, but why not his pants, you ask? Well, duh, it's Thursday. He goes commando on Thursdays. Easier to score that way. And somehow, he managed to remember this fact, though he's done it with Brawly enough times that full blown nudity is not a problem...somehow, I don't think he's quite ready to have his pale ass displayed to the entire island just yet.

    But, it's good enough, Brawly decided, and invited him in. Back into the living room, where the fangirls could now see who had interrupted their Brawly Time. Needless to say, the majority weren't overly upset.

    Brawly: So...uh.... *sheepish grin* Where do I begin?

    Lip-reading Fangirls: *hearts in their eyes* *swooning*

    Brawly: Did you fall off the dock, or something?

    Morty: The boat. I fell off the boat.

    Brawly: O.o Why? How?

    Morty: Because I needed to get here fast, so I booked one of them sea gallops coming here, and it was going Mach 10 so I fell off with the island in sight and had to swim the rest of the way.

    Brawly: ^.^; And why did you need to come here? Not that I don't appreciate the visit.

    Morty: *again, with the on-the-verge-of-tears expression* I got Itchy again. And this Itch wanted a particular person! So I went to see him, and there he was, being his cute and sexy self, and boys like him /should/ be like putty in my hands. But he refused. And I tried and tried, then he tells me-- *voice breaks* --he's no good at it!

    Brawly: *is so not seeing the big picture* o_O You tried to have [censor] with Bugsy??

    Morty: What? No! >.< He's on /next/ year's menu. I'm talking about Falkner!

    Brawly: *runs a mental check of other Johto leaders* XD Oh yeah, him. With the hair. *finally hits him* 'Not good at it'? O.o Are you sure? A kid like him? Maybe he was lying.

    Morty: ;_; But, but, he doesn't lie! Does he look like a liar?

    Brawly: Well, tell me the whole story.

    And Morty does, in oddly off details when compared to the true events that the authoress wrote down word for word in the last installment. But he's not lying, Morty's only telling him how it went from his point of view. Otherwise, Morty would've known Falkner /had/ lied, and would have gone back to 'punish him'. ....But that would ruin the tale.

    In the meantime, Shauna had issued one of the fangirls who could not read lips to do an internet search on this Falkner guy. Of course, all they knew was that his name was Falkner, and Google came back with over 600,000 pages. Yeah, they had to wait for more key words.

    Brawly: You sure 'bout this? I mean, he was with /Will/. How bad could Falkner be after that?

    Morty: But Will's not a good teacher. He's an awesome lay, but no teacher. ._.

    Brawly: *tries to imagine who could possibly have been on top-- brain breaks* Okay, forget it. Now, why are you so upset?

    Morty: Because! ;_; I can't do it with someone's who no good! It goes against my libido!

    Brawly: o.o You weren't very picky when you did it with me the first time.

    Morty: That was different. =\ I didn't find out until after I discovered you gave good head. I worked off of that. And look how you turned out.

    Brawly: Fair enough. So, you want...what? For birdboy to suddenly know the ropes?

    Aha, more keywords! The fangirls typed in 'bird trainer'...and lo and behold, they got 37 pages! No pictures, but they could work with that; they were very informative. After all, they mused, if this guy was a Johto gym leader (did they only fraternize with other leaders or what??), he had to have a picture somewhere, right?

    Fangirl logic. How misinformed. Sigh.

    Morty: ;_; At the very least to get even slightly good at it! I can't work under these conditions!

    Now, Brawly's not just a dumb surfer dude. He's pretty smart...though when you consider at the last luau the island had, he set someone on fire with his torch-dancing, you wouldn't think he was. He's intelligent, yes, but still as absent-minded as anyone could possibly be.

    Brawly: ^_^ *lightbulb* How would you feel if I called someone in to handle this? I know someone that's really good at dealing with crisises like this?

    Morty: ;_; Really? Could they?

    Brawly: Well, you never know. :3 I'll have to ask. Wait there.

    And so, Morty sat on the couch...then realized his pants were still wet and the water was seeping into the cushions. ......Fyck it. Brawly didn't even go far; the video phone was /right there/ in the wall, after all, and so, Brawly flipped through his little black book to find the right number. Given that he had to look it up tells you many things. One, he didn't call this person often enough to remember. Gee, I wonder why?

    And somewhere, off into the east, someone's phone rang.

    Wallace, t3h most faaaabulous coordinator of the 21th century, extraordinary once-gym leader, and current reigning champion of all that's beautiful!, was presently prettying his Milotic. Because Milotic are sexy beasts, and you know you want one (besides the awesome rarity they represent and the foreverness it takes to get one on your own *grr*), and Wallace appreciated sexy beasts, because they were just like him.

    And someday, he will meet Eusine, and they will get into a fight over which is the sexier beast: Milotic or Suicune. But the authoress digresses.

    So, back to the phone ringing. Now, Sootopolis is sorta lacking in the up-to-date part of technology. It irked Wallace that they didn't have caller ID yet, and so, he couldn't afford to miss a call. This is why he huffed in irritation when it rang, and his Milotic felt the same way. It loved being brushed just so...

    Wallace: *picking up and watching the screen flicker on* Yes?

    Brawly: ^_^ Wallace! Friend, Hoennese, country man! How are you?

    Wallace: *blink* .... *coy grin* Brawly, this is certainly unexpected. You're the last person I'd expect to call. Have you finally fallen for my charms?

    Brawly: Aha... {Well, now's a good a time as ever to use that ace.} I have a proposition for you.

    Wallace: Do tell.

    Brawly: See-- *points behind him; Morty's clearly upset* --/he's/ got a lil problem. And if you fix it, I'll duly consider shacking up with you and Steven for a weekend.

    Wallace: *oh yes, he likes~* Well, I'd have to hear the conditions of what it requires to...'fix'. You can't possibly expect me to do anything without an assessment of the situation.

    Brawly: ^_^ Oh, it falls right down your alley. See, all you need to do is...

    In the end, Wallace took the case, expressing a very high interest (unlike the fangirls, he /knew/ who Falkner was and oh, his potential), but only under one condition: if the day ended to Morty's satisfaction, there would be no question to Brawly's participation in the eventful ménage-a-trois. No 'if's, 'and's, or 'but's. ...Well, definitely some butts, but that's not the point-- okay, it is the point! [censor]!

    And so, Wallace set out on the next boat to Johto. Which was immediately, because a womanly man who knows how to get his way can...well...get his way.

    Which left Brawly only a chance to hang back up before /he/ was also attacked by the blond. ...Though it wasn't so much of an attack as it was a very interesting turn of events. Morty was clinging to him from behind, pants still wet, and pressing himself insistently into Brawly's derriere.

    Morty: *whiny* I'm still Itchy.

    It was Thursday; they weren't supposed to do it Thursdays. exception could be made, right? So, Brawly decided the best course of action was to help Morty scratch this Itch. Right there on the living room floor, with a gaggle of fangirls squealing in delight by the window, and a Makuhita who knew better than to look in that direction.

    End Act 2


    Shipping Mathematics:
    Morty + Brawly = Hottieshipping
    Morty + Will = Susushipping
    Brawly + Will = Psywaveshiping
    Wallace + Steven + Brawly = StoneColdFoxX3shipping
    Avatar artwork by アカネ
    PRIA is my haunt, 45500 is my identity,
    the black stronghold is my fortress.

  3. #3
    Cheers to the Freeze Luna Tiger's Avatar Bulbapedia Staff
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    Title: The Way of Danshoku (till the end of time)
    - chapter characters: Wallace, a random receptionist, Falkner, Brawly, Shawna (plus fangirls), Morty
    Rating: PG-13
    Genre: (really bad and perverted) Humor
    Warnings: implied sexual references of YAOI/SLASH/HOMOEROTICA/ENTER-CHOICE-WORD-HERE, usage of stereotype, suspension of belief, fourth wall breakage, script format
    Notes: The only thing altered since its make were the typos and some emoticons. Part 3/3

    till the end of time

    It's just one of those days. A Thursday, really. When one is constantly on the lookout for a situation to take their breath away. Otherwise, death would just come naturally because people couldn't stand simply being idle, no matter how lazy they were. Nothing good ever came on TV on Thursdays (except CSI, but that's at 9pm EST time and much too long a time away to look forward to), and everything was just...blah.

    No matter which country you were in: Hoenn, Johto, Kanto, Orre, the Orange Isles, and that new one currently nameless; Thursdays were all the same. Fucking boring!

    But it wasn't because it was Thursday that Wallace decided to take an insta-trip to Johto. Hell no, he was perfectly fine grooming his pokémon on Thursdays; it's the reason he left it until then, to make sure he wasn't subjugated to the anxiety of having nothing to do on Thursday. If Wallace, coordinator/ex-gym leader/champion, had nothing to do, surely he'd shrivel up into a prune. And Wallace was too beautiful to be pruney.

    And so, he stopped in the same place Morty had two acts ago, in the city of Violet, staring up at the tower. Unlike Morty, however, it didn't make him hot. He saw the true intentions that the towering gym represented, because he was just that good.

    Wallace: My my. Someone is overcompensating. Whoever built it, definitely. And if most gyms in this region really are 'kept in the family'.... Hopefully, this one was built a loooong time ago.

    He didn't exactly know the gym's layout; was Falkner even still here? Upon entering, however, Wallace saw a nice young girl in the lobby, and it was obvious she was there as a receptionist. This is where his power of persuasion really come in handy. And so, he approached her, making sure that he sparkled radiantly as he did so. Chicks dig sparkles.

    Wallace: Excuse me. *perfect smile* I'm looking for Falkner?

    Girl: *instant flustering* *bluuuush* I'm sorry, but he's not taking any battle requests today.

    Wallace: *turns on the charm* I'm not quite here to battle him. {Maybe some wrestling though.} *pops out his League license* Wallace Murakumo, Hoenn's League Champion. I'm here on business.

    Girl: *color drains from her face as she quickly scans the dayplanner in her hand* I-- I'm sorry, I didn't-- I thought-- I was sure there was nothing planned--

    Wallace: {Pshhht. Women. So cute, and yet so intimidated.} Now now, calmed down. *sparklesparkle* I'm not exact on the schedule, but it is a matter of importance that I see Falkner right now. May I?

    Girl: *very relieved* Um, I should probably inform him. He was very insistent that no one else disturb him, after one of his friends left here earlier.

    Wallace: Oh no, that shouldn't be necessary. I won't take up too much of his time. Just tell me where to find him and everything will be fine.

    Against her better judgment, the girl told Wallace where to find Falkner; if he'd been anyone else (save Lance), she would have flatly refused, but champions were the highest ranked members the Leagues had and you just don't mess with that power, politically and pokémon-based. Wallace had to wonder if Steven ever abused his power as champion like this. ...Probably not. While Steven was many things, a dishonest fellow he was not. And honestly could be very, very sexy. Ever see Steven flush and stutter when Wallace asks him, 'was is it you want to do with me'? Obviously not, but it was the sexiest thing ever. Especially when Wallace was on top.

    Heheheh-- oh, right. The story.

    As it turns out, Falkner wasn't in the same place he was before. For some queer reason, he believed Morty might return, once he got his wits back, with another attempt to seduce him in mind. Thus a change in rooms was necessary. However, due to authoress intervention, he wound up in the foyer to his own room, a study. With lots of books. Geek. &hearts;

    Falkner thought he was safe. Why, we don't care. All you need to know was that he was back to his studies, concentrating so hard on them...ahahaha, you should know what happens. There was a light touch to his shoulder, and simultaneously, a ripe and breathing whisper, "Faaaalkner..." And maybe there was an earlick. Maybe. The authoress couldn't see to verify it.

    But see, just as before, Falkner is yelping and jumping and whipping around to tell Morty off...except it's /not/ Morty and it takes a few seconds to realize who exactly this is, because there's aqua-blue hair and a perfect smile of intentions not so pure, and fucking sparkles and--

    Falkner: @.x Wha-- Wallace?!

    Wallace: ^_^ You remember me! How sweet!

    It was sort of hard to forget the man who couldn't stop pulling Steven away from every conversation he had at one Gathering just to do some heavy necking right there in public; it was almost like free pr0n, and almost got damn close when clothes started flying. Falkner had just never seen Wallace this up-close before. And it was scary.

    Falkner: ..........There's no way this is a coincidence.

    Wallace: *just smiles* Dunno what you're talking about. I'm only here to uphold a conversation.

    Falkner: ...... *is out of his seat and on the other side of the table in the blink of an eye* People from Hoenn don't make surprise drop-ins just for a 'talk'. Maybe a hello, but not... *flails* what you just did!

    Wallace: *feigns hurt* What did I do?

    Falkner: You did /that/ thing! With the voice!

    No confirmation on the licking. The authoress is sad now.

    Wallace: *shrug* Can't fault me for that. *perfect, dazzling, hypnotic smile* Oh come now, sit back down. I just want a word with you.

    Now, Wallace is a much better liar than Falkner is, because he never lies, but bends the truth to his advantage, but still, you shouldn't believe a man who is sex-on-legs when they says, 'I just wanna talk'. They're always suspicious. But Wallace is also a very charming, corrupting young man, and when he smiles, you get st00pid. Very, very st00pid. Unless you're devirginized or a no-room-for-discussion!super-seme. Falkner was...okay, the authoress isn't very sure if he'd been devirginized, but if he was, he hasn't done it often enough to stop getting so damn flustered. Which is how Wallace managed to charm him back into his chair, albeit cautiously. Inevitably, this surrender spelled his doom.

    Falkner: Okay, so?

    See, sitting in a chair had its advantages. Just not for the person sitting in it. Because really, when you got a frail kid like Falkner (go with the authoress on this one) and a slim guy like Wallace....just pay attention and you'll see.

    Wallace: *still smiling, keeping him distracted* *kneels on the floor in front of Falkner* Well, I talked to Brawly a little while ago. It seems he had a bit of dilemma at his place. Some poor soul fell off a boat on his way to see him, and had to swim to shore.

    Falkner: *good and properly fixed on that smile* Uh

    Wallace: The poor soul was so lost and confused when he got there, because of something that had happened to him shortly before boarding the boat. *places his hands on Falkner's knees; they go unnoticed* He'd been rejected.

    Falkner: *doesn't make the connection* Yeah, and...? *because rationality took a brief vacation; thank you, Wallace!smile*

    Wallace: *tries not to purr, and subtly coaxes Falkner's legs apart as he continues* All he wanted was the comfort of another for the afternoon, someone warm to stay close to as he confessed his sins to them, praying they, who were devoted to their faith, would understand and listen. *glory be, those legs were wide open and trapped against the arms of the chair; slips in between them, eye contact never leaving those of his target's* But for some reason even I cannot fathom, this person shunned him, wanted out of presence, a man who only wanted a little attention rejected so coldly, it hurts him even now. So, I was sent to right this wrong, any way I could.

    But then Wallace made a tactful 'mistake', letting perfect, manicured fingers taper over the insides of Falkner's thighs, which is someone no one can't /not/ notice for very long, and they were nearly to the crotch of his pants when, bam, Falkner suddenly realized Something Was Very Wrong. And it wouldn't be this fic if he didn't yelp like a sissy and try to get away. But he's in a chair. With arms on it. And the only way to go was up, sort of, until Wallace grabbed at his hips and held him firmly down to the seat.

    Falkner: @.@ What the hell?!

    Wallace: Now now, I was telling you a story. You shouldn't interrupt people when they're talking like you did. This story relates to your case, you know.

    Falkner: *very much back to his senses, glowing bright red and scandalized* And what does this have to do with me?!

    Wallace: *coy grin* Because. I'm here to tell you how you /can/ 'be good at it'.

    Falkner: *visible eye go wide, wide, wide because now it makes sense and now he's in deep crap* Oh fu--

    But see, Wallace didn't like foul language, and decided Falkner needed his mouth washed out for even daring to use /that/ word. The detail that Wallace chose to do so with his own tongue is just that, a detail.

    Wallace: *breaks the kiss, and was delighted to make so many observations* {Blush of arousal, check. Did kiss back, check. An extra check for not being as 'no good' as he claims.} *smirk; singsong* I think I caught a li~ar.

    Falkner: *manages a weak glare* Basta--

    And the cycled continued, though Wallace make sure cop in a few feels this time; the kid was not very attentive when he was having the bejesus kissed out of him. Good for Wallace and any other gym leader who wanted a piece of him; not so great if you factored in the average, drunk Joe on the street looking for some cute boy to...ahah...molest. Right, that needed to be dealt with. Later.

    Wallace: *manages a glimpse into the room on his left, the door slightly ajar, and liking what he sees in there* That your room?

    Falkner: Yeah but-- *shrieks as he's suddenly over Wallace's shoulder and being carted off to the one place all ukes should be afraid of when a seme comes to town* Don't you dare!

    Wallace: *laughs, much like how the authoress' Nagi icon is laughing as he slips them inside that room* I never turn down a challenge.

    ...and the door closed behind them.

    The screams and howls, only heard from the foyer, were the single pieces of evidence that yes, Wallace was indeed 'showing birdboy the ropes'. Very...very....thoroughly.

    It was dusk when Morty realized he just didn't get enough out of Brawly on Thursdays like he did on Tuesdays, and fell back into depression after he started imagining how the day would've gone had Falkner not said those four little words.

    Morty: ~_~ *misery spirits hang overhead*

    Brawly: =\ Oh, come on. *shoos the little spirits away* Everything will be fine! *but for his own sake, he's hoping it won't be*

    Morty: My ego's been shot to hell. *again with the verge of tears* I'll never be able to do it ever again!

    Brawly: _; We just did it six times.

    Morty: *wails louder* Ever again!

    Brawly: ._. Drama queen.

    Morty: *carries on as though he never heard* Gym leaders are supposed to be good at it! It's like, instinct or something! Why is he the black sheep?! ;____;

    Brawly: *eye roll; waits for it to get out of Morty's system before trying to tackle for another round*

    Suddenly, there's a knocking on the door, and Morty instantly grew quiet. Because not only did the knocker forget Brawly had a doorbell...well, it was freaking dusk, man! It was no time for visitors to be dropping in! But, they were in the living room still, and Brawly shimmied back into his shorts to go answer the door. Morty didn't do anything to cover himself up, just kept sitting on the couch, and the visitor can get all bothered about his nudity for all he cared. They were interrupting his Bitch time!

    Wallace: Hello~! ^_^

    Oh. ...Shit.

    Brawly: Wallace! ^_^; Hi! ..How did it go?

    Wallace: XD See for yourself.

    Thus is produced a newer version of Falkner to Wallace's side. And Brawly wasn't sure, but there was something about him that was different. Because he still looked the same, yet.... And so, Brawly had to call him on it.

    Brawly: o_o He looks the same. Are you sure he's good at it now?

    Falkner: *frowns, possibly insulted*

    Wallace: *drapes himself over Falkner's shoulders* Ah, yes. He's good to go. I tested him myself. Watch.

    And this time, when Wallace takes Falkner mouth for mouth, you will notice how much has changed since those previous two kisses. It's like a professional battle devoted to devouring each other, fought and defended and no winner or loser. It was hot, it was raw, and best of all?

    Morty could see them.

    It was probably best to note that with all the blood lost in his nosebleed, Morty probably wouldn't get an erection. But taking into the fact that a nosebleed symbolizes when a male is subject to experiencing one at that moment without it showing, it's a mighty bet Morty will, in the end, triumph over that little symbolically-challenged anime gag.

    Because when Falkner and Wallace finally stopped, Morty was over there like Speedy Gonzalez on crack, grabbing Falkner by the wrist, and dragging him into the upstairs guest bedroom faster than he could ask for permission to use it.

    And Brawly was sweating. Just a little.

    Wallace: *purring* They'll be there for hours. But I think you had a deal to hold up.

    Brawly: ^_^;; Ehehe...I said threesome. I don't see Steven anywhere.

    Wallace: He'll be here in half an hour, and he told me to 'start the party without him'. *advancing*

    Poor unfortunate surfer, what's a guy to do?, but back up until he hits something (the couch most likely) and falls down onto it, where his predator will pounce and pin him, and thoroughly ravish him. Funny, it happened just like that. Though before Wallace could completely shed Brawly of his shorts, he had to ask something very important:

    Wallace: How do you feel 'bout making this a fivesome? *eyebrow waggle* Once me and Steven get a little action on you, we can invite your noisy 'neighbors' down for some.... *leer* tea and crumpets.

    Suddenly, this whole thing didn't seem so bad after all. The fangirls still at the window certainly consented.

    Hence forth, this Thursday officially became known as the hottest Thursday ever recorded in the history of mankind, and would continue to be so for years into the future.



    Shipping Mathematics:
    Wallace + Steven = Originshipping
    Wallace + Falkner = Fledglingshipping
    Wallace + Brawly = Seashipping
    Wallace + Brawly + Steven + Morty + Falkner = Danshokushipping
    Avatar artwork by アカネ
    PRIA is my haunt, 45500 is my identity,
    the black stronghold is my fortress.


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