4th bloom

[punchtheflowers]

[Vinnie had been spending a lot of time on his own outside, watching the flower buds peek through the snow. Had he been actively avoiding certain people? Hell yes. But he was privately trying to console himself with the slow return of spring.

It was getting warmer. Greener. All his hopes for the future lay in the coming month.

All are welcome to bug him as he mopes in the melting snow.]

= = =

I wanna get back into training again. At least doing something. I'm sick of waiting around and feeling like this. I've been getting into fights anyway, so... I should've told you about those.

I know I've been pulling stupid shit lately. You can lay it on me for that.

= = =

...Sorry for being such an asshole.

There's a girl that likes me. I don't know what the fuck t'do.

So if you guys have any ideas on how I should stop fucking up my life, I'm all ears.

By the way, Smoe: those nose things work really well. Thanks.

Comments

and then hatesex happened

[punchtheflowers.livejournal.com]

Somehow, the contents of the Charizard's vomit were more repulsive to Vinnie than the poison sewage his own stomach generated. The smell of dead animals, cooked or not, was far from appetizing for him - so the fact that they were on fire and half digested made them abominable.

He scrunched his nose in disgust, taking a step back as Char emptied out the menagerie he had apparently eaten earlier that day. If he really had the strength to pull off flamethrowers after that mess, it would've been a surprising feat. Not one particularly advantageous for the Grass Type though, hence the distance. A poisoned Charizard wasn't necessarily a defeated Charizard.

"Yeah, that's real tempting," spat Vinnie as he pulled his nose piercing from his bleeding left nostril. It would've been a good idea to take that out before getting punched multiple times. "I think I'd be more worried 'bout whether you could find an antidote before you pass the fuck out."

red-hot pukey hatesex

[blazinglizard.livejournal.com]

Yes, this would have been a very excellent time to just cut his losses and go looking for an antidote. A fight that had really only started because Char couldn't resist the urge to make allusions to his oh-so-clever phone pranks definitely wasn't worth letting poison eat away at him until he collapsed.

No such luck here. This was Vinnie. Vinnie had grabbed his horn. Those two facts were enough to apparently make risking the passing out worth it. Char straightened himself up, stumbling back a pace or two. Dragged the back of his hand over his mouth. "Only thing you gotta be worried about is the unholy ass-whoopin' headed your way," Char growled.

He took a few slow steps toward Vinnie (around the minefield of ex-woodland-creatures, not through it, thank you), gauging just how bad the poison was throwing him off, gauging the distance between them. Too much for fire, if he even had any fire left in him after that. But maybe not too much for the air.

A minute tensing of Char's wings was the only warning Vinnie'd get before he flared them out to their fullest, then brought them down in a sharp, sudden flap. It wasn't a misguided attempt to get airborne: he was firing off an Air Slash. It didn't quite have the same dramatic effect as puking on anyone, but a razor-sharp blade of wind could still leave a decent mark on a grass-type if it connected.

and then they made out in midpuke

[punchtheflowers.livejournal.com]

In that instant, Vinnie's eyes widened as he tried to dodge - but that was the problem with air, most times it was pretty hard to see. He hadn't figured Char to use Air Slash in human form, considering how much smaller his wingspan was. He hadn't calculated the arc formed by the blade of wind. So when he tried to step out of its trajectory, the Air Slash still managed to cut through his side.

Thankfully, it wasn't so sharp that it could actually tear through the Venusaur's torso, but it was enough to rip through the shirt he had on, and leave its mark on his thin human skin. The sheer impact of the precision gust knocked him back a step, like he'd been hit with a blunt sword at point blank. In fact, it would've hurt less if it had been a blunt sword, rather than a Flying Attack, damn his leaves for being so vulnerable to them. Almost immediately the bruises blossomed in bright reds and purples.

Vinnie staggered backwards, the look of disbelief on his face quickly succumbing to simple exhaustion. That attack was the straw that broke the Camerupt's back - the hurt that had been suppressed by adrenaline all came back, crashing down on him in waves hard enough to make his knees buckle. Even has he tried to fight to stay upright, his human body had just taken too much punishment.

Unsteadily, Vinnie gasped, "You little shi--" before he toppled over and hit the ground.

we call that HARDCORE FRENCHING

[blazinglizard.livejournal.com]

The second Vinnie collapsed, Char with hit with a rush of what could have been triumph or lightheadedness. The poison was making it kind of hard to tell by that point. Really, he had nothing to be proud of: he had only just narrowly won a victory against something that was weak to both of his types, and only had access to one of its attacks. And a Pyrrhic victory at that; sure, he got to prove... whatever it was that he'd been trying to prove, but Vinnie had messed him up real good. His hand was red and sticky with his own blood; he was gonna be feeling that bite for days, no doubt. He was muddied, bloodied, bruised, and splattered with vomit. The sludge that had trickled off of him already left behind angry red, burning skin in its wake. Little more than a symptom of what was going on inside his system: that poison hadn't gone anywhere. He needed an antidote fast if he wanted to stay standing much longer.

So naturally, he continued to favor being an utter shitlick over having any sort of sense of self-preservation. "What was that, Vinnie? Couldn't hear you." Sardonic and savagely proud, no matter how rough his condition. Few things could beat the raw satisfaction of taking down one of Red's. He continued those slow, wavering steps toward Vinnie. Were they getting unsteadier?

"Don't even know why you keep tryin'." Were his words a little more slurred than a second ago? "Y'can't win. You goddamn failure." Was he looking at Vinnie? Since when had things gone so blurry? Another step. Another. They were getting... harder, somehow. A dull, throbbing ache that spread and intensified with each movement -- it was in his skin, in the pit of his stomach, burning in his throat, pounding in his head. White-hot stabs of pain bloomed like starbursts, cloudied his vision even further. Char was vaguely aware of his arms wrapping around his stomach, of bending double, of something warm against his forehead. All Vinnie's fault. Oughta kick his shit in. But somehow... his leg wouldn't move?

Oh. Because he was bent double on the ground. Right. That explained what the warm thing was, then. Vinnie. A trembling hand braced itself on Vinnie's stomach and strained to push Char upright again, but the poison had claimed too much. He couldn't do it. If he'd only had a few more seconds in him, if he'd thought to bring a Pecha berry, if he'd just set the punk on fire from the get-go... Ah. Screw it.

The pain was getting worse, his breath coming in strained, feverish pants. He was in for one hell of a ride before the poison was going to pass from his system. Even so, the last cloudy, muddled thought in his mind before unconsciousness claimed him too was how incredibly worth it that all was.