we figured out a better way to do sprites (instead of freeballing it i edit and frankenstein other sprites together and THEN draw over and recolor it. its proven effective thus far) so heres some kantonians!!
when i started on the refs it was initially planned to be something like this- an “evolution” of the trainers. i kinda just ended up drawing this bc i had glitchys childhood on the mind
WARNING: At this point this entire thing is getting pretty intense in general. Warning for descriptions and illustrations of gore (specifically face and eye trauma), and a general emphasis on horror.
As the knife comes down upon him, Red does not fight back.
Red takes it.
Each swing. Each cut. Each slash.
over and over and over and over and over and
Biting pain.
The burn of an old blade.
It stings. Gods, it stings.
But to hurt is to be alive. To bleed is to be real.
He’s something that is living.
Even if ’something’ is not human.
Even though he’s not sure what it could be anymore.
So he lets the knife glide through his skin.
Lets himself be flayed and mangled and marred.
Lets the blood flow from his wounds, and from his throat.
Because he knows it, sees it, tastes it in Blue’s code.
How familiar this dying face is to him.
It makes it all the more hilarious.
Red’s face, shoulders, and chest are a sanguine mess of ragged lacerations, staining the front of his shirt with the hue of a dark, dull purple, colored like rotten blood from a lifeless body. Even through the blue dye in the air, he refuses to be colored like everything else- colors of the Missing One prevailing, even with the lack of the man’s typical palette corruption.
As if in tandem with the sudden absence of those horrible flickering bars that typically crawl across Red’s skin and hair, Glitch City… calms. The mass eating at Blue relents when his assault ends. There’s a distinct heaviness to the air, though. Each piece of the world that craved to rip and tear and consume, now twitching, bubbling, boiling underneath them. A dreadful kind of suspense.
A predator waiting for the perfect moment to pounce.
It is waiting.
Red runs a hand down his face, over flesh marred beyond recognition, fingers tracing the dips and exposed muscle even though it burns more and more under the contact.
A single in-tact eye burns into the other.
Somehow, he still.
fucking.
SMILES.
“Y'know, I never thought I’d end up on the receiving end,” he croaks, voice half-drowned by the blood that flows freely into his mouth.
“I’d always wondered what the motherfucker upstairs had been through. Thanks for giving me something educational to take from this, pal.”
He spits his words at the other, underlined by the awful wet noises of viscera catching in his throat.
He steps forward, aiming to meet the other in the middle. Blue can see him trembling, shaky, unsteady on his feet- it hurts, oh Gods it hurts. It hurts more than he can describe. This pain is unfamiliar. Even if he welcomes the lack of numbness, it still hurts. It hurts. Each step he takes is more and more akin to a shambling corpse, a zombie freshly risen and struggling to hold itself upright. It hurts. It hurts.
“It’s a little funny how you say you’re not desperate while tryna hack me to pieces, y'know,” he continues, voice growing all the raspier.
Frankly, he should be impossible to understand at this point. But there’s something supplemental under his gargled mutterings- whispers on whispers from every side, quiet, but just loud enough to make each and every word clear.
“Whaddya think, that I’m stupid, or are you just in denial that badly…? I mean, when I get bored, I don’t go out of my way to slaughter some doppelganger of the guy I hate most, in th’ boring ol’ way I did it every time before… Where’s the fun in doin’ something different if ya go about it the exact same, huh? You’re BORED, but you aren’t lookin’ to change a single fuckin’ thing, just attacking some pooooor defenselesss motherfucker that ya don’t even know anything ‘bout, don’t got any grudges t’ hold against…
But heyyy, heheh, it’s allll in a place where your actions don’t matter, cus it ain’t even yyour world, must be sooo much easier, no aftermath t’ worry about, that must be what yyYOU think, hhahaha…”
As he goes on, each word is more drawn out, quieter and quieter and weaker and weaker, yet biting with a sharpness that stabs deeper than Blue’s blade. He babbles and slurs as if drunk- probably going delirious from the blood loss.
But he keeps chuckling, low, soft, and quiet. Barely a giggle under his breath…
Until it begins to crescendo.
Laughter slowly rising, Red tilts his head back, until he’s thrown himself into a loud fit of cackling, RIGHT in the other’s face, 'til he’s wheezing, barely able to BREATHE through his manic laughter, 'til he looks like he could fall backwards if he doesn’t catch his breath.
Suddenly, he snaps his head forward- and there IS an audible snap, like bones loudly clicking into place in a single grotesque movement- bringing himself eye to eye with the other. Sickly dull purples flicker into that distinct violent RED with a flare of corruption, cutting through everything with a vivid, bloody color.
“This place is HELL,” he snarls, suddenly speaking clear as day, the amusement still glimmering in his one good eye, “but you fail to understand something important; this is MY Hell. And 'infested?’ Does not even BEGIN to describe it.”
His hand surges forward, grabbing Blue’s knife-wielding hand by the wrist. His nails dig in, his fist closes around Blue’s, forcing the other to tighten his grip on the handle. Red blood, running down his arm and to his hand in a deluge, mixes with blue, running and swirling together like mismatched paints dropped into a sick palette.
“What happened to MY Blue? You’re asking the wrong question. Didn’t anyone tell you to do your research before traveling, buddy? You should be asking what happened to ME. Because BLUE is free. BLUE is exactly where he is supposed to be. Far, far away from HERE. Living. Breathing. S A F E. I wouldn’t wish him here for ANYTHING- shit, I wouldn’t wish this on ANYONE. In fact, I genuinely feel fucking BAD that YOU managed to stumble into this shithole, y'know? You’re tryin’ awful hard to kill my pity, but I really am giving you the benefit of the doubt for how STUPID you’re acting.”
His hold on Blue’s hand strengthens. With a harsh pull, and a grip threatening to either draw blood or break bone, he wrenches the other’s fist down-
Forcing him to point the blade directly at his stomach.
He leaves the tip of the knife digging through his shirt and poking his flesh, only just gently enough to avoid breaking skin.
“But lookie here, yeah? Check THIS out, hahaha! If you’re ACTUALLY as bored as you say, you must REALLY wanna see something new, right? If you wanna keep using me as your new punching-bag motherfucking PLAYTHING… Start HERE, would you? I bet you’ll LOVE what happens next.”
In a staggered motion, he releases Blue’s hand where he left it. Knife still pointed forward, straight at Red’s guts, but now with the freedom to let the other decide his next move.
“Still, though… Hey, let me be CIVIL and give you some actual advice,” he continues, and he’s heaving again, struggling with every breath, excess blood spilling from between his teeth. The surge of strength falters, and he slumps forward, putting one hand over his chest, gripping his shirt until his knuckles go white. His other hand lingers, the one he’d grabbed Blue with, shaking worse and worse with each passing moment. Red feels sick, his heart and a dozen other horrific things brewing inside of him pounding faster and faster against his ribs, restless and angry, ready to explode out of that cage of bone, simmering just below the surface. It’s a nauseating feeling that’s synchronized with the greater behavior of Glitch City, all while he struggles to stay awake and keep his mind clear.
“If you have ANY sense of self preservation still about you…” he drawls with an uneasy laugh, eye unfocused as he tries to stare at Blue, “then I suggest y'put that fucking thing away and start looking for an exit before shit gets REALLY ugly. But whatever ya do next, well… it’s up to you…!”
Even with his lips tattered, torn off his face, Blue can feel how Red’s grin widens.
Red seems to visibly bristle at the other’s words, the corners of his twisted grin twitching, spreading further, growing darker. He huffs- half coughing, half laughing, spitting saliva and blood that he quickly tries to choke back down.
He folds his arms behind his back and paces closer to the other, feigning a darling, innocent expression. He’s not very good at it.
“All the same, I guess it doesn’t really matter. You’re such an open book, it’s laughable. I know that look. I know those tricks. I can see it in your fucking EYES. You’re DESPERATE.”
The aggressive environment seems to grow more and more restless. The stinging, numbing, biting, ripping, tearing of the very earth beneath Blue- if you could even call it that anymore- clings tighter, digs deeper, threatens to sink its teeth in, draw blood, tear something away that is much more fundamental than flesh. It remains just a threat, but undoubtedly, it still hurts. Wants to make that hurt known. Wants to make him know, fear, how much worse it could get. Wants him to remember just whose turf he has intruded in on.
Red is either unaffected or uncaring of the environments growing agitation.
“Desperate for something to change,” he chimes, his voice a mocking, sing-song tone, “something new, ‘cause pulling shit like this will surely give you SOMETHING to feel, won’t it~?”
His gaze turns all the more intense, and through a gag, the childish tone drops completely. His next words, half-gargled and low as a whisper, sound more like the spitting snarls of an animal.
“You must think you’re real hot shit, must think you’re REAL fucking clever. You found something NEW to play with, something much more tangible to rip to pieces than your own predictable, dusty-ass, BROKEN-ass game, right? Don’t think I missed the BLOOD on your hands, you son of a bitch.”
In the blink of an eye- an instance of a single frame of motion, Red stands inches away from Blue, blood red eyes burning into ocean blue, before his hands snap forward to grab him by the collar. Contact with Red’s hands, even just to his clothes, sends that boiling, burning, electric rush of fuzzy and numbing pain through Blue’s chest- the bite of Glitch City concentrated and amplified through one person.
“I would personally recommend that you stand the fuck down and stop talking like that before something bad happens. Because I’m starting to get the idea that you really, really don’t know what you’re messing with.”
Red practically spits in his face, words laced with malice and an unspoken threat.
Anonymous:
<p>( <a class="tumblelog" href="https://tmblr.co/MwLrsqwNO6ZR_RhMbGALdIQ">@blue-tearss</a> )</p><p>[ .... ]</p><p>[ You've heard rumors. Too many to count, actually. Word has spread far and wide about RED—not yours. Of course not. You aren't stupid.—being locked in some ... amalgamation of a location. ]</p><p>[ ... ]</p><p>[ They called it "Glitch City". You remember seeing your Red with hollowed eyes, mumbling about a place where everything was wrong. ]</p><p>[ That was before you knew. Before you were aware. ]</p><p><br></p><p>[ You walk yourself through the steps. Safari Zone. Leave. Say no. Save. Restart. Walk. Walk. Walk. ]</p><p><br></p><p>[ You know the moment it happens, because a sharp pain shoots up your leg at the last step and your eyes are bombarded with a disaster of colors. ]</p><p><br></p><p>[ ....You try to ignore the pressing of the environment, bits and pieces of...somethings. sticking uncomfortably to you, as you look for him. ]</p><p><br></p><p>[ Maybe it takes an hour. Maybe 2 hours. You don't know, but you know when you've found him ]</p><p><br></p><p>[ ... What are you supposed to say, now? What can you say, to someone who's known a different you? When you don't know him, really. ]</p><p>[ You revert to comfortable habits, because what else can you do. You don't try to hide the sarcasm in your tone as you shift, wincing. ]</p><p>[ “ ...Well. Don't you look great, R E D. ” ] </p>
[MAJOR Warning for FLASHING and GLITCHING imagery under cut]
The twisting, unfriendly architecture of Glitch City almost seems to resist letting Blue find the man- environments twisting and turning, structures rising and falling in his way, invisible walls forcing him to backtrack, leaving him going in circles, over and over and over.
Still, if a trainer like him was anything… It was persistent. With enough willpower, anything can be found in this place. Anyplace. Anyone.
The unmistakable figure of Red Tajiri is found with his back turned to the other. He seems wholly unaware Blue is even there, until he speaks up.
He freezes. Blood running cold.
Swallows thickly, trying to will away the sudden suffocating feeling that rises in his throat.
Turns. Slowly. He looks back at the other with an intense, unreadable stare, blood-red eyes burning into him.
“You…” he starts, turning fully. Half whispering, as if the words struggle to escape him.
Then, he stops. Narrows his eyes, squints at the other- something seems to click.
“… Ah. Ahhahaha, I see.” He hisses, and suddenly the intensity seems to melt away.
“You really had me going for a second there, buddy! Real funny. I’m splitting my fucking sides over here. But really, now- who the hell are you? Cause you definitely don’t belong here…”
He crosses his arms, smiling bitterly down at the other.
“Y'know this place would eat idiots like you alive if you aren’t careful, right? Look- I’ll just be bold here and assume you do. So: either you really ARE that stupid, unlucky, suicidal… or you must have a damn good reason to have gone out of your way to seek little ol’ me out. Mind explaining?”
[ @pkmn-monochrome - interaction thing i can’t send as an ask bc long and images]
The dark of the Pokemon tower is never something that has bothered Red. Never something that would, certainly not after seeing much worse and being much older.
At this point, really, it’s a kind of eeriness he’d come to miss. It reminds him of simpler times- days when a young boy only had to fear things like ghost stories, and shadows that lurked in the dark.
He knows very well that this place is not the Pokemon Tower he knew, of course. He’s not stupid. This place was only built in its image, the miserable ending of a game dyed in grey and built out of spite.
He runs a hand along the wall of the staircase he descends, feeling the cold stone, yet also the intangible data, dull static and code under the fingertips. Watches in quiet fascination as the textures distort and corrupt under deliberate contact, the broken foundations of Generation 1 reacting to him, (same as always,) but a touch more stable from the fusion of the bastard remakes keeping it grounded.
Any damage caused is meaningless, the existence of it debatable as a whole, as he passes through a loading zone. Half of him watches everything fade to black, the other half just continues down the steps that are as tangible as anything else here is to someone within the game. Everything is right- just as it should be.
Either way, it’s not like it’s his game to break. That would be plain rude, especially with the risk of killing someone!
Intrigue in this world, curious as it may be, isn’t why he’s here.
Nah. He’s more interested in something else.
Or, someone, to be more precise.
Having finally found who he’d looking for, Red steps off the stairs and into another layer of this endless graveyard, whistling as he finally lays eyes on a certain monochromatic individual.
“Y'know…” he chides from across the room, “A graveyard’s a pretty cliche place to spend eternity, don’t you think?”
He snorts at his own remark. “Course, I guess it’s not like you had a choice. The sadsack that made this game could’ve picked something a little more outside the box, is all I’m saying. Do you think they’d bury bodies in the Viridian Forest, maybe? Or swimming offa Route 20, try a little watery grave… Oh, Champion’s Road could be pretty morbid!”
He sighs and folds his arms, shaking his head at himself.
“… Nah, I’m joking. I can see the vision. I could give less of a shit about this place, anyways…”
His eyes gleam, and a menacing smile spreads across his face.
“I’m more interested in you. A glorified reskin of Pokemon Tower ain’t shit compared to you. A little bug told me about some sentient Red-Leaf kinda amalgamation with the memories of a real person, and I just had to look into it and come to see for myself. Lo and behold…”
He spreads his arms out in some kind of almost-mocking grand gesture.
“Here you are! Cody, right? In the flesh, or… I suppose your problem is the lack thereof, heh.”
He begins to approach, moving slowly and never once looking away. He stalks forward, every step careful and deliberate, teeth bared in a grin that holds no happiness but oozes with amusement.
“I’ve got so many questions, I don’t even know where to begin. You’re really something special… One of a kind, fully aware of everything. Knowing what life both here, and out there, is really like. I’ve seen players that would kill to even get a chance to stand where we do, but… You want out more than anything.”
Scratching his chin, the man walks around them at a slight distance. Red gets the thought that Cody wouldn’t want something like him anywhere near them. At least he can respect that.
“Suppose the courteous thing would be to ask a question- that’s the tradition around these parts, right? Constantly interrogating you so you don’t have to sit here, alone with your…”
His eyes flicker to the two GHOSTs at Cody’s side.
“… Thoughts. And the like.”
He hops onto a grave nearby, sitting with his ankles crossed. Respect towards the dead be damned, every tomb in places like this were about as sacred as Halloween decorations.
“Here’s what I’d like to know, Cody.”
His smile widens further- for a brief moment, the glitches on his body seem to spread to the air around him, cutting through the gray with burning streaks of red, white, and yellow.
“You have your hacker’s memories. Some of them. ANY of them. It’s enough. You’d know what it was like to be them. You know what it was like to be human. You know both worlds.”
“What is it like? To be real? To be something more than code. How different is it from this?”
“What was it like to be HUMAN?”
He jabs a finger forward, pointing at them as the static that flared up around him quickly subsides, clearing the air back into the typical oppressive atmosphere of the endless graveyard.
“I want to hear it from you,” he finishes cooly, “someone who has been on both sides of the screen. You could tell me better than anyone.”
A disheveled man in a twisted realm who claims to be Red- yes, THE Red, despite bearing no resemblance in appearance or personality. He somehow seems to possess knowledge of things he shouldn’t know, and an unnerving ability to do that which should be impossible. His body appears unstable, and though the same could be said of his behaviors… the odd man acts and talks as if he’s an old friend of yours, and always seems relaxed around you- showing off his loud and passionate personality, and always bearing a Cheshire grin.
[Transcription of design notes and color hex values under the cut.]
Back of Jacket + Patches: #e5e5a2 + #ffffff, #25222b + #8e4a4f, #521d21 + #d1d2d6, #8a8b90
ALT PALETTE (only for this outfit)
Yo.
Look, I’m not here to dick around with a buncha cryptic bullshit. I’d like to think I’m a pretty open book, yknow-
I just think that hiding this one would be really fucking funny. Trust me- you’ll find out soon.
A lot sooner than you’d think.
General Note:
Details of these forms can vary based on circumstance. This is more like examples and a style guides than a concrete reference- I’ve tried to note every key part for each.
Anonymous:
<p>dude i dont think youre handling being aware as well as you think you are</p>
“Would you like to take my place, tough guy?????”
“Trust me, it was a LOT uglier when I was still a kid. Comparatively speaking, I’m fucking GREAT. Why don’t YOU try spending a majority of your life trapped in a hellscape with the knowledge that nothing is real?”
<a href="https://aniju-aura.tumblr.com/" style="text-decoration:underline;">aniju-aura</a>:
<p>"Where is your home Red? Is it far? When gonna be the right time?"</p>
“‘Home’ is a very broad term, y'know. I want to be out of HERE. This place is hell, don’t you think? Your little camera can’t even comprehend what it’s looking at. I LIVE in it. I’m TRAPPED in it.”
“Home, home, home, is anywhere but HERE. The surface. The real world, the one that’s fake to you but still M I N E. Your little GAME as it’s meant to be percieved. Full of MY friends- MY family- MY loved ones.”
“… I have a plan, though. The right time just hasn’t come.”
“And I’d love to ask for your help, but I don’t know if I can trust you yet. Sorry!”
Anonymous:
<p>“ im afraid you won't like my next questions, though. i don't really care—if you want my attention, you've got it.”</p><p><br></p><p>“ <span style="color: #ff4930">what exactly did </span><span class="npf_color_chandler">it</span><span style="color: #ff4930"> present itself to you as? </span>and, on top of that, <span style="color: #ff4930">why are you here?</span> ”</p>
The man blinks at you, before his smile widens.
“I think you know by now that the ‘IT’ in question isn’t that little fucker I had to slaughter. My understanding of that thing isn’t personal. Just observational.”
“But your second question is a VERY good one. Very, very, very very vERY V E R Y VERYYY good.”
“And it’s a question I’ve been asking myself for a very. l o n g. time.”
<a href="https://possiblyfunny.tumblr.com/" style="text-decoration:underline;">possiblyfunny</a>:
<p><i>Ah-</i> So you’re <i>aware.</i> I had a feeling you were, but it’s nice to have confirmation.</p><p>But on that topic, does this… <i>not</i> bother you? Y’know, <i>Us</i>, I mean—being other-dimensional beings looking in on your world?</p><p>It’s probably weird to say, but I really hope it doesn’t bother you. I know not getting freaked out by our existence is a tall order, but I really don’t want to scare you or anyone.</p><p>You seem pretty cool, though, Red. I hope we can get along.</p>
“Please. I’ve had… Oh, how many years would it have been……”
“… Anywhere between 12 and 28 years? To get over myself. Time’s hard to track around here… But I’ve been watching the whole time. Seems every few years a new window opens…”
“Point is- I had to figure out a long time ago how fucking pointless it was to bitch and cry about my existence being a lie. I can’t change anything about that. Boo-hoo.”
“All I want now, is to live where it matters to me. I want to go home. Once the right oppertunity arises…..”
“… But for now, I’m more than happy with idle chatter. Trust me. There isn’t much you could do to make things worse, anyways. So, might as well be pals.”
