Woah, I wrote a crack fic! (you may find it in FF.net here)
I really have nothing else to say, except that I feel dirty.
By Kayi S. Rowling
“I think there might be something seriously wrong with you, pal.” A GenV crack/speculation one-shot, set after you beat the Isshu champion.
You couldn’t believe it. There was no way you could have; it was just impossible!
Because the miracle of the millennium had happened: you had marched through the Elite Four with your trusted Pokémon companions, a team you had trained with since that fateful day you and your childhood friends had gotten that wrapped up gift from the Professor, and then you had proceeded to face off against the Isshu Champion, the best of the best…
And you had freaking won!
What was this? Was someone pulling a highly elaborate prank on you? Most likely, even when that Pokémon that had fainted across from you truly looked beaten up, even when you trusted your own Pokémon to be that strong… Even when the freaking Champion was calling at you for being so good while recalling that poor thing back to its Pokéball, your thoughts just kept telling you there was no way you had won. That didn’t happen in real life! It was an awesome thing on TV, and movies, and books, and comics, and videogames… But all that was fiction! You were just a random trainer, not the protagonist of an awesome and inspiring story!
…you snapped out of your shocked stupor when your childhood friends, Cheren and Bel, caught up with you, presumably to keep you from shaming yourself further by just standing there, looking like an idiot, if not actually brain-dead.
“Congratulations!” Bel nearly shrieked, throwing her arms around your neck and hugging you. “You totally showed them not to mess with us, kids from—!”
“Now, now, there, no need to insult everyone else, woman,” Cheren calmly reprimanded her, pushing his glasses up his nose. Then he patted your shoulder awkwardly, like only those friends that feign to be cool and aloof can do. “Well done,” was all he said. He didn’t even smile, the jerk!
However, an even bigger jerk was approaching, a bastard of a whole new level that consistently refused to give anyone his name for no adequately explained reason… Your friends almost jumped away from you upon sensing danger and aggression being sweat by every single pore of the green-haired guy’s body. Who was also keeping his arms behind his back in a suspicious manner; was he carrying a cleaver? A sword? A chainsaw? He surely wanted to kill you now; this was the “I will surpass the Champion” guy, after all!
“Congratulations… Champion,” N spat, before revealing his weapon: a freaking vuvuzela. You heard Bel giggling and Cheren coughing to mask his wish to laugh as well.
…then neither of you could hear anything anymore as N blew the hellish thing for what seemed like an eternity, but was most assuredly less than ten seconds. Still, your ears hurt; having covered them in haste with your hands hadn’t helped at all!
By the time your hearing returned partially, Bel was still crying in distress and Cheren kept groaning as he kept feeling that horrible ringing in his ears. Turning to glare at N, you found him smirking.
“Now I’ll have to defeat you,” he simply said, shrugging and somehow twirling the vuvuzela with a single hand. What was he now? A cheerleader?
“I think there might be something seriously wrong with you, pal,” you replied.
The other three gasped in shock. “You can actually talk?”