1245: Laughter – Chapters One and TwoPosted: November 22, 2015
TRIGGER WARNING: This fic contains instances of abuse and mutilation, both child and spousal. Please skip today if you are sensitive to these things. Thank you.
Hello dear readers of the library! My name is squarecircles, and today I’ll be your guest snarker. I’m relatively new to the fanfiction scene, but I’ve been reading it for years. Mostly, I would just read Pokemon fics, but rarely there are others that catch my eye (the library’s own Erttheking, and Herr Wozzek being two such writers). However, seeing as I read primarily Pokemon fics, I’m very aware of how bad some of them can be. What I’ve found for you today is easily one of the more fucked up fics I’ve ever come across. Let’s dive right in, shall we?
A fanfic by The_Noob
Route 228. April 30th, 1989.
So right off the bat, the author is telling us it’s 1989… Ok then, guess he’s assuming that the Pokemon regions use the same calendar as us. I don’t subscribe to that idea, but to each their own right?
Cyrus Akagi, 8-years-old, stepped off his mother’s Honchkrow, with a bland look on his face and an even blander white polo shirt and pair of khaki shorts adorning his body.
So a little background info, Cyrus is the main antagonist of Diamond/Pearl/Platinum. He’s a creepy guy, and is clearly not all there upstairs by the time we meet him in the games.
Also, Honchcrow aren’t so big that they can carry an 8 year old around on their backs. They’re less than 3 feet tall. I know kids vary in size, but my 8 year old sister is past 4 feet tall. Unless Cyrus got some pixie dust sprinkled on his head, that bird ain’t getting off the ground.
His parents liked him to be as proper as possible, and even made him comb his light blue hair into neat little spikes, like his father. They expected nothing but the best from him in every aspect.
So Cyrus has really strict and proper parents… That dyed his hair blue and spiked it? If they’re so proper, why’d they dye his hair?
If not, there would be severe consequences. Thinking about this, the little boy instinctively touched his cheek.
Oh. So they hit him? Child abuse right there. I really hope that there’s someone who can help little Cyrus out…
“Gul,” The little boy commanded, unfaltering, with a sweeping hand gesture. Honchkrow nodded knowingly, tipped his ‘hat’ and flew off. The bird wanted nothing to do with the light rain of ash that flooded the area.
It’s raining ash? Ok, I know that the author told us we were at route 228 at the top of the chapter, but you can go there in the games. I mean, it’s kinda close to Stark mountain, which isn’t just a volcano, but just home to Heatran. Who’s Heatran? He’s just a legendary beast, implied to be the God of Lava. But guess what? Despite it being close to this place, it doesn’t rain ash. No, instead Cyrus should be running for cover from the raging sandstorms that wrack the area.
Cyrus repeated the motion to make sure he did it just as his mother would. What would she say if she found out he got it wrong? He gritted his teeth at the thought of their dissapointment, their shame, their anger. All those little chemical reactions that ruined lives.
Hey author? You missed a letter there.
He wished he could simply get rid of them.
I know this is the mind of a mentally unstable villain we’re looking at, but he’s 8. I kinda doubt he’s actually thinking these things.
With a tap on the shoulder, he jumped, spinning in the air, and landed on his butt, getting the back end of his khakis turned dark grey.
As far as we can tell, you’re in an open field. How’d someone sneak up on you?
“Hey kid, don’t zone out like that! Wouldn’t wanna get your toosh colored charcoal again, would ya?” Cyrus recognized his grandfather’s voice, aged and rough, yet full of silliness. He couldn’t see the old man clearly, his eyes were full of surprised tears. Cyrus mentally slapped himself for his knee-jerk reactions.
Seriously? What kid is thinking like this?
“No, I wouldn’t.” The child murmured, with the proper Johtonan infliction his parents spoke with.
“Come on, kid, you don’t have to use that fake accent like my tight-*** daughter,” Cyrus’ grandfather said as he extended a hand and helped him up, “Since you’re here, we’re going to have fun. But first, why don’t you and I have something to eat! You look hungry enough after flying a day!”
Oh? Grandpa knows his daughter is a bitch? Why the fuck didn’t you do anything about it then?
Cyrus shook his head, “Mother and Father said that I am not to eat much. My grades have slipped from a 100-point-average to a 96-point-average.”
Well there we go. Grandpa is an asshole. He knows his grandchild is being starved because he’s not the best thing since sliced bread, but he’s not gonna do anything about it is he?
“What’s a sandwich going to do to your grades?” The old man jested. He stopped taking his daughter seriously a long time ago.
Child abuse ain’t something to jest about, you old fart! Seriously, your grandson flat out just told you that his mother is starving him. NOW IS THE TIME TO TAKE IT SERIOUSLY!!!
Cyrus smiled and snickered at this, like any child should.
And then came the ripping of stitches as the hidden scars on his cheeks opened up, and he started crying.
WAIT WHAT??!?!?!!?!! He’s got Joker scars… Seriously grandpa, do something about this. Those things are definitely visible, even if they aren’t Joker scars. Even if grandpa won’t do something, does the kid never go out in public? Is child abuse not taken seriously in the Pokemon world?
He thought himself so stupid to feel. He had never even told his closest friends, Volkner and Flint, about the scars; he pretended to have no sense of humor, just to let the scars heal. He touched the exposed bones of his mouth, and more of those silly tears flooded from his eyes and onto the ashen ground.
Holy fuck, maybe they are Joker scars. Seriously, nobody’s done anything about this? He had stitches, did the doctor not give a shit?
The old man rushed over to his grandson and embraced him.
Finally! Grandpa did something right. Now pick up the phone and call whatever goes for 911 around here.
“Who did this to you?” He asked angrily.
Or be a fucking idiot about it. You know your daughter is a bitch. Take her seriously and call the police.
“Momma and Papa,” The little boy sobbed. He felt so weak, the way he acted, his parents would have disowned him for something like this, “They had too much to drink one night and caught me laughing at how they were acting. And they, they told me this,” He leaned into his grandfather’s ear, letting his left cheek bleed onto it a little, “‘You can never laugh again.’ So I gave up *sniffle* feeling.”
So they’re drunk and abusive parents. They’ve conditioned their son to think that telling someone about their abuse is weak and shameful. How have they not been caught? Do they interact with people? Is Sinnoh really just that shitty a place for kids?
No it’s not. There’s another chapter of this garbage. Since this one was so short, here you go.
A fanfic by
Route 228. April 31st, 1989.
Alright, it’s the next day. Let’s see if grandpa did anything about Cyrus’ Joker face.
“No!” An old man was screaming into a corded telephone. His face showed many wrinkles, a couple scars. He hadn’t aged well, and anger was only making it worse, “a thousand times no! I don’t care if you’re my daughter or you’re rich enough to buy and sell me! You don’t deserve custody of-” He paused for a moment and looked over to the child in the boring-looking shorts, who was remaining horribly stoic.
So he waited a day to deal with it? And the first person he called was the one who abused the kid in the first place? Grandpa, you fail at preventing child abuse.
Stuttering a little, the old man went back to speaking, a little quieter, “You… You already have a… a… price on my head? Oh dear.. I take it back, Cyrus is yours. Just… just don’t hurt him again.”
Aaaaand grandpa gives up with basically no argument. Grow a backbone grandpa. What’s that? You say that he told her not to do it again? Yeah, the psychopath on the other end is definitely gonna listen to you. Seriously, CALL THE POLICE!
He hung up, slamming the phone in the wall. His face scrunched up in regret, showing that he was practically about to cry. He swore under his breath in Ancient Sinnohan and sat in the wood seat next to the little boy.
How old are you that you’re swearing in an ancient dialect? And don’t you still have a call to make?
“I’m sorry I couldn’t help you, Cyrus,” He was choking back tears, “I wish I could take you in as my own, but… Oh, it’s all my fault. I raised my daughter wrong and now it’s come to bite my ass.”
Bullshit, you couldn’t help him. You barely even tried. You basically asked mommy dearest “Please don’t do that again. I might be forced to write you a stern letter next time.”
Also, if it’s your fault that she’s this much of a bitch then why is taking in Cyrus a good idea? If this is your fault, then you really shouldn’t be allowed around kids anymore.
Cyrus stared blankly off into space, and didn’t seem to want to reply. He knew it was his fault, and not his grandfather’s, he desperately wanted to tell him, but the deep slashes in his cheeks made it hurt to speak.
The parents really did a number on this kid. He’s avoiding blaming the ones actually responsible for this.
He had done so well to appease Mother and Father. He had followed every rule they set in place, finished all of his classes highest out of the highest classes. He never let social or emotional things get in his way, even if it meant that he lost his only friends, Flint and Volkner. Even now, he was trying to eliminate his vice of playing with those little machines he was given for his fifth birthday.
Really, that paragraph sums up what’s wrong with this whole thing. He’s blaming himself, and trying not to blame his grandpa. Meanwhile, his parents are in the background doing some satanic ritual or some other shit because the author says they aren’t evil enough yet.
But it would never be enough, because he was never good enough. But, where had he gone so wrong?
-Sunnyshore City. June 9, 1985.
“Graaw.” Honchkrow growled, digging his claws into his trainer’s shoulders at the sight of the young boy. He may have been a very large bird, but he was a light creature, easy to carry. The woman whose shoulder he was on swatted gently at him, “Gul,” She said irascibly.
Lightweight, my ass. Honchcrow weigh like 60 lbs. you ain’t carrying that on your shoulder. Fuck, if you can carry it on your shoulder then how was Cyrus riding it earlier. Better question, this bird clearly doesn’t like Cyrus. Why did it take him to grandpa in the last chapter?
The little boy was in white underwear and socks, having just gotten out of the shower, waiting for his mother to find him a dress suit his size. The room was small, tiled with black marble and accented with large, white furniture. It also matched the blue hair that all the family had, whether it was dyed or natural. Above the massive white bed with tidy blue sheets was the Akagi Industries logo of the vicious Honchkrow, an apex predator of the patriarch’s native land of Johto. Its most terrible ability was that of controlling large flocks smaller Murkrow through its powerful pheromones; and the productive manner in which it killed set the standard for the Akagi family’s philosophy.
Blue hair isn’t natural. Just gonna put that out there. Also, if his room is small then why is his bed described as massive?
And I know it’s a pokemon fic, so it’s probably written by a 12 year old, but “large flocks smaller Murkrow”… Did you forget something author?
Cyrus sat on the bed, his hair combed into little blue spikes, like his father’s, and stared quizzically at Honchkrow, who glared angrily at him. “Mommy,” he said, still fixated on the angry bird, “you gotta hurry up, or daddy will be mad.”
And this bird let him ride it? Look up a map of Sinnoh for me. Sunnyshore is the block on the bottom right. See the island in the top right of the map? That’s where this bird flew him.
“Your father has a very short temper, Cyrus, you know that,” The woman on which Honchkrow rested said gently, as only a mother could, “just be patient and let me find you something to wear. This is a very important party for him. And don’t be worried if he hits me in the face again,” Her tone became more indicative of badly hidden bitterness, “He needs to relieve stress sometimes. If only he loved me as much as that damned bird.”
Wait, so is she a bitch or not? I still say she is, because she was the one screaming at grandpa. Hell, she set a price on her dad’s head. But here, we’re shown that her husband is abusive. I’m not convinced that she’s the good guy here, but at least she’s not the worst parent in the world. No, that title goes to her husband. She’s just the second worst. If you really care about your son, then help him get out of this house!
Cyrus’ mother was often just as tight and snobbish as her husband. This was just a show she put on to make herself the man’s trophy wife in front of the strange Johtonans, who were apparently turned on by foreigners acting just as high-and-mighty as they did.
So, being a bitch is just for show? Damn, I take it all back. She’s not the worst parent ever.
Honchkrow glared at Cyrus again, and flew off the woman’s shoulders, and out of the room.
LOL at the idea of a bird actually being able to fly properly indoors. Especially a 3 foot, 60 lb beast like that. It’s gonna plow into a wall and make one hell of a dent.
“Thank Arceus that nasty thing got off of me,” She said, “it stinks so bad. I hear that’s how they control their little minions. The Champion’s Frosslass can actually make Pokemon shit themselves and go nuts from fear by spraying it at them, it stinks so bad.”
Cyrus giggled a bit, and not soon after his mother found the clothing she was looking for, which she lay on the bed and motioned for
Ok, so maybe the mom really isn’t so bad? But what’s she motioning for? If she put the clothes down, does she want them back? Why put them down in the first place?
“Thank you, mommy,” He said. With that, his mother hit him with great force on the temple, knocking him out cold.
Aaaand she reclaims the top spot on the worst parent list.
When he came to, he was in the dark little bathroom, which had a reverse color scheme of the bedroom, and a delightful set of portraits of Johto’s natural and manmade landmarks. He had been stripped nude, and his parents stood over him, and his mother had a knife in her hand.
Are they actually satanists? I wasn’t actually serious about that.
Honchkrow stood on his true master, Cyrus’ father’s shoulder, glaring at the little boy vexingly as his parents attacked him. He had hated the child since birth, knowing it would soon try and replace him as the object of his master’s favor. To make sure this would never happen, he did the unthinkable – he subjected them to the powers of Dark Pulse, which most Honchkrows do to quiet rebellion among the unintellegent Murkrows they would control.
So the bird is the abusive one? But I don’t get how its controlling the parents. Dark pulse is a move that’s basically just a blast of energy. Im all for seeing moves used in unique ways, but this is just plain stupid. How is dark pulse controlling them? Why didn’t it just kill them outright? Why isn’t the Honchcrow using some form of hypnosis or something? So much stupid.
Also, how are they attacking him? Is she stabbing him? Is he kicking? Describe shit!
The only rebellion he needed to calm among his master’s house was that of the child’s power. If all went according to plan, then he would scar the child forever, and, perhaps, alter his master’s mind. No matter what he did, he would never amount to anything in his parent’s eyes.
Scar the child forever? Never amount to anything? Wtf is this bird planning?
Of course, tonight, his master and his master’s mate would be his minions, toys to his indomnitable will. As he heard a few words be muttered in the odd human language, he knew he had made the mark.
What words? For all we know, they could just be doing the Dumbledore thing where they say random shit at the start of a feast.
Honchkrow jumped off of his master’s shoulders and down to the wounded human boy, who was trying not to move his head, in fear that the gaping wounds in his mouth would become worse. The bird tipped his ‘hat’ with one wing, and raised his other to bid his new little minions away. Had he harmed careful negotiations? Yes. Was his master still more than rich enough to not even care about this? Of course. Honchkrow was a smart creature, he would find a way to make this seem like it had never happened.
Except for the obvious physical evidence of the scars all over the kid’s cheeks.
He walked over to the child and raised his head, so that their eyes would meet, using his large wing. The long black tip-feathers acted like human fingers, which made the job much easier. With a fell swoop of his talons, Honchkrow rended the child’s genitalia from his body, fully ensuring that he would never become truly powerful.
WTF?!?! He cut off Cyrus’ dick? I just… What?
As Honchkrow left the bathroom, he mockingly winked, opening the door to a brave new world.
Nonononono. Let me get this straight. So, Cyrus is pretty obviously insane in the games when you gave him. But, this kind of abuse would be more likely to make him go cry in the corner while muttering to himself than turn him into the powerful and charismatic individual we see in the games.
Let’s ignore the repercussions of the bird cutting off his dick. Cyrus uses a Honchcrow in his party. Not only that, but it’s his strongest Pokemon. So Cyrus got over the memories of a Honchcrow chopping off his sausage, and then decided to capture and train one of the very birds that did this to him? No. Just no. No human would do that, sane or not.
The author does mention the possibility of a sequel, but as of right now it hasn’t been published. Thank whatever gods you pray to, because if it’s half as fucked up as the original then I don’t know how long I’d last.