Tyler Kimball - Lessgently
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New Beginnings - Chapter 119
🕑 Added 2026-01-19 16:00:24 +0000 UTCA.N: Slightly shorter chap, but next chapter should be very interesting. :)
P.S: BAD EMOLGA!
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With a worrying pop, the kind where a vacuum seal was broken, the lid to the blender portion of the pokeblock machine was removed. With one hand holding the manual, one hand holding the lid, and his eyes on the recipe shining brightly from his laptop screen to his side, Ethan did his best to work his ‘cooking’ magic.
Ethan was delusional enough to think that his cooking wasn't anything to write home about, but he could follow a recipe. That alone probably set him above average. The great thing about this machine was that it would do all the heavy lifting if he just followed the instructions…
At least, if this was anything like actual cooking.
In reality, after reading through the manual for hours in a vain attempt to understand exactly how the machine worked, Ethan was no closer to the answer from when he started. Apparently, this machine somehow used the energy within the berries, trading their already (in his mind) magical attributes into something else. In the case of Snorlax’s food, that would be converting things into calories. If he used Cheri berries in the recipe of a pokeblock, the result wouldn’t ever heal paralysis, as its paralytic magical properties were converted into something else… through means which absolutely boggled his feeble mind.
He both respected whoever came up with such a contraption and felt pity for how he must see others. Everyone else was probably a neanderthal in comparison.
After he added the Enigma, Sitris, and Chople berries into the top of the blender portion and turned on the machine, he had a few minutes to read through the instructions and explanations once again… Thinking that maybe, just maybe, this time he would understand.
It still didn’t make any sense.
The Transmutative Nutritional Recontextualization of Berry-Based Metaphysical Effects via Pokeblock Synthesis.
The pokeblock machine operates through a multi-layered thaumaturgical-quantum conversion framework, wherein the latent bio-energy effect signatures embedded within berries are collapsed, reindexed, and re-expressed as alternative physiological outputs!
The core of this process is the Berry Effect Waveform (Henceforth referred to as BEW) — A semi stable quantum field generated by a berry's evolutionary defence mechanism. In their raw state, this waveform manifests as numerous different effects (poison neutralization, awakening stimulants, cellular restoration, etc). However, the pokeblock machine doesn’t preserve these effects directly. Instead, it subjects the natural BEW into forced decoherence within a controlled pokefield containment lattice located within the sub-frame.
Through a process known as Effect-State Reassignment via Quantum Nutritional Entanglement (Henceforth referred to as ER-QNE), the machine disentangles—
Ethan blinked rapidly as his eyes glazed over.
With a grimace at the slowly forming headache (definitely an excuse at his intellectual defeat), Ethan placed the manual down and promptly gave up. If it worked, it worked.
Right as he started pinching the bridge of his nose to try to ‘decompress’, the machine quieted and the slurry of berries within the blender was sucked down through small tubes into the center of the blocky monstrosity. There must’ve been a way to seal the container, as the suction from the tubes pulled the residue on the sides of the glass down through force, cleaning it in an instant.
Not a moment later, it started to release a gentle hum as the lights on the front began blinking in a steady pulse. For this stage, he knew he’d just need to wait.
“I dislike your contraption, Ethan. It… does stuff.”
Ethan flicked his eyes to Ralts, who was staring at him from around the bend leading into the living room, where she’d been playing with Pichu, Pachirisu, Pikachu, and Litten. The latter's cries of laughter and thumps of movement echoing out even now.
“Yeah,” Ethan murmured, “It does… stuff.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair as he plopped down onto one of the kitchen table’s chairs to watch the happenings in the other room. Ralts took the opportunity to jump into his lap. He patted her head once. “We need it though. You might not like the process, but you’ll like the results. Snorlax won’t look to eat you.”
Ralts leaned into his single pat before catching herself with a startled jerk, instantly crossing her arms in a huff. “So be it.”
Suspiciously, the instant her haughty persona appeared, it faded away into a childlike curiosity. Alarm bells were ringing in Ethan’s head as Ralt’s spoke in his mind. “I don’t understand what it is doing, though I can feel it… Can you explain it to me?” She asked sweetly.
Ethan’s heart and ego felt like it was stabbed through by a skewer, and judging by Ralt’s tiny muffled laughs and not so hidden smirk, she knew what she was doing.
With a quick grab, a lob, and a squeal of terror, Ethan tossed the tiny hellion into the ongoing tackle-fest happening in the living room, judged by Joyce’s fat Pikachu.
“Betrayal!” “Ra-ral—”
Ralts got buried beneath the fluff of a black and red cat and Pachirisu’s tail the instant she landed, followed up by Pichu digging through his dad’s tailfluff to get to his opponent.
The sting of his betrayal lasted only a few seconds, because Ralts was laughing and smiling as she thrust herself into the ‘battle’ happening around her. It was some real kiddy-gloves fighting, but everyone was having fun.
A ding drew his attention away, and Ethan stood and walked over to the pokeblock machine as its flashing lights dimmed. After a whirl, a shake, and a high pitched ding, the side compartment opened up and rolled out twelve cuboid brown and yellow striped treats. Ethan picked one up between his fingers, held it up to his eyes, and squinted at it in inspection.
“Emol!”
In the blink of an eye, Emolga swooped down from her hidden spot in the rafters with a cry of mischievous mayhem and yoinked the pokeblock from within Ethan’s two-fingered, limp grip.
“Emolga! Do NOT eat that! Put that down! NOW!” Ethan bellowed with the most authoritative voice he could muster, tinged with worry and fear as Emolga glided her way up to her spot in the rafters. That pokeblock was for Snorlax, with all the caloric intake needed to feed a pokemon of that size. If Emolga ate it, even if it was only one part of twelve, there would be dire consequences.
Emolga ignored him and began to nibble at the pokeblock, tasting it and finding it harder than she normally thought to chew through.
Ethan recalled her immediately, the pokeblock falling down and banking off the wooden beams up above until it landed on the floor. With hurried steps, Ethan strode over and grabbed it, twisting and turning it to see how much she’d eaten. Thin grooves from her little teeth were marked across the cubed surface and the rare situation of Ethan getting angry was unfolding.
Over the course of thirty seconds, Ethan collected the other eleven pokeblocks and put them into the PEZ-like dispenser built for their containment. Then, with a forceful thwack, Ethan slapped Emolga’s pokeball back onto his hip, threw on his jacket hanging by the door, and stalked off outside into the snow, crunching it between his heavy footfalls.
As he walked down the cobblestone path towards the Pokemon Center, Ethan recalled through his haze of anger and disappointment that the sound from the living room had quieted down when he was leaving. The pokemon were well aware of Ethan’s mood.
“Stupid damn empathic bullshit.” Ethan angrily mumbled over the sound of crunching snow. He turned his head to his hip, locking onto Emolga’s pokeball. “I’m so fucking disappointed in you. When I tell you to stop doing something, you stop. No ifs, ands, or buts. You could’ve—no, might be—really hurt or in danger.”
Of course, there was no response, but Ethan would bet his ranch that Emolga could hear him.
When he arrived at the pokemon center, Joyce wasn’t anywhere to be seen. After stomping and dragging his feet on the entrance mat, he rang the bell on the counter where an attendant or receptionist would normally be. A few seconds later, the pink hair of Joyce could be seen from the small circular windows on the door separating the back from the front.
Joyce walked through the swinging double-doors obviously expecting a client—perhaps someone lost or who got in over their head in the forest—but found Ethan’s frustrated frown instead. “Ethan? Something wrong?”
He put the pokeblock dispenser onto the table and took out the one Emolga nibbled on. “Bought that pokeblock machine today. Made some food for Snorlax, but Emolga thought it was a wise idea to steal it from my hands and take a bite.” He shook the dispenser, releasing the other eleven blocks of calorie dense food. “These twelve should feed a Snorlax for a whole day. She nibbled on one, and I’m not sure if that’s going to cause problems.”
Joyce strutted over, professionalism taking hold as her mannerisms shifted to that of a trained nurse. “What berries?”
“Enigma, Chople, and Sitris. She’s had those individually before, but…” Ethan shrugged.
“I understand.” Joyce nodded, then gestured for her pokeball. “Give her here. I’ll run some tests.”
Ethan did as asked and handed over Emolga’s pokeball, but before he let go, he spoke to it again. “When you’re out of here… You’re in so much trouble, little squirrel.”
He let go as Chansey waddled through the same doors Joyce came from with a look of curiosity. Joyce handed the pokeball to her companion and whispered some instructions, earning a joyful nod. She turned to Ethan once Chansey went back off into the back rooms, going about her tasks. “Are you going to stay here? Or do you want me to call you when I have news?”
As much as he was mad at his flying glider, he loved her too much to stay that way. Anger gave way to worry and simple frustration at how things could have gone differently. “I’ll stay.”
“Come on back.” Joyce waved, lifting open a partition to allow him behind the counter. “I’ve seen you work, now you get to see me do mine.”
Comments
Kara Nina
Seriously though, he should keep his little ones away from that machine. They will probably want to play with it.
Thelon
"Ethan was delusional enough to think that his cooking was anything to write home about, but he could follow a recipe." Is it supposed to be "wasn't delusional enough"? Looks like Emolga self-administered the Goodberry torture method.
