Ash x Gary (Palletshipping)

Pretty Please with a Pikachu on top, Let Me Hug You

Me: "Alright, baes, back again for more?! Well, I've decided—and this is pretty much official (however official the thoughts of an insane fangirl can get)—that there are only two chapters left in our gloriously long fanfiction to which you have arguably contributed just as much as me. I mean, I may have written it, but what would we do without the Panchams, the Skitties, the amazing fucking comments that oftentimes do give me ideas for what to write next?! So I just wanted to thank you again for tuning in and maybe leaving a comment or six million depending on who you are (you know who you are, my lovelies)—it all makes this hobby of mine a lot more fun...or is it funner? I seriously can't decide and am too lazy to ask the Interent, even though I asked the Internet a number of...intriguing things in Brendan x Wally...Well, whatever! Let's enjoy the time we have left before we end this fic, take a bit of a break during which I will focus on my other fics, and then introduce the next palletshipping one—to be titled The Yellow Carnations Boy. And so with that, I leave you to watch the video, which I thought was kind of unique from a lot of videos you'd normally find on Gary or even palletshipping, check out the picture, which is tots adorable, and read what I am vainly assuming is your much awaited next chapter. See you at the end!" *Finger waves*

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*Gary's POV*

It's been two weeks since we came to Ever Grande City, and I am freaking THE FUCK OUT. This fucking ring is gonna burn a hole in my pocket—scratch that!—my brain and emotional well-being. I am dying over here. I feel like I am gonna throw up constantly and couple that with the new shaking feature that my hands exhibit, I may or may not be coming off as some sort of alcoholic to all the lovely people Ash just feels the need to introduce me to. You know, that may actually be why they keep giving me slightly scared smiles and looking to Ash for salvation. Either that, or it's the soul-sucking death glare I give them for coming within a mile of my unconfirmed fiancé—I seem to have gotten a tad jealous of everything that breathes.

So anyways, that's why I'm currently hiding from the overly cheerful, oblivious source of my nausea (and jealousy) in some weird back room of a Pokémon Center I found and calling my daughter for help. Because, of course, when you can't figure something out, the responsible thing to do is push all of your problems off onto your ten year old offspring...I feel stupid lately...

But fuck being responsible and smart, I can't take this anymore! Pick up your damn pokégear, Teagan! Pick up! Pick up! Pick uuuuuuuuup!

"Hi, Daddy!" the line is finally flooded with the wondrous sound of my angelic little Gyarados' voice...but it doesn't stop there..."So, Daddy, listen! Listen! Listen! Can you BELIEVE that that low-class maid girl's father is Mr. Contesta?! You know that red suit wearing butthead?! Oh my GOOOOOD!" I hold my pokégear away from my face as my...angelic little Gyarados' voice reaches 'I'll make your ears bleed' pitches, "I'M SO MAD! THAT'S TOTALLY WHY HE DISQUALIFIED ME FROM MY FIRST CONTEST EVER! AND DO YOU REMEMBER IN RAINSHINE—ALTHOUGH YOU PROBABLY DON'T BECAUSE YOU WEREN'T THERE!..." I faintly hear her mumble something that sounds outrageously a lot like 'you Ash licker,' but naturally I still don't get an opening to say anything, "WELL, MR. CONTESTA SAID SHE DID A GOOD JOB WHEN SHE RIPPED OFF MY PERFORMANCE! BECAUSE HE'S BIASED! HE'S BIASED, I TELL YOU!" Teagan then seems to go into some sort of 'I'm screaming on the inside but just making weird panting noises on the outside' fit, and I decide to indulge her topic of choice with this opening...because, well...on top of being terrible at proposing, I'm also a neglectful father! OH, THE HORROR!

"And how did you find all of this out, Teagie?" I ask, desperately wanting a hug from my baby Gyarados but settling for clutching my pokégear closer instead.