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The thieving Weavile thinks she's snagged a satchel of goodies, but little does she know that she's actually palmed a slumbering Mimikyu. When the Ghost-type pokemon awakes, instincts take over and possession results... and now she has to figure out life in a rescue team, sheparded by the spirit sharing her body!

This is just a fun and silly piece I made for  kirbutashi regarding their shared ideas about a Weavile thief being possessed by a do-gooder Mimikyu. They were kind enough to let me write about their characters! The characters were also developed with the help of  PipePumpkin who also made the thumbnail for this piece. Used with permission! Please check out her gallery!

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The Weavile smirked in the shadows, watching easy marks pass by her on the streets. Coin jangled in unguarded pouches and berries glistened in woven baskets. All of it far, far too easy for the taking.

From her deeds to her snicker, every part of her was wicked—even her name. Wicked.

Whistling to herself, Wicked eyed another group coming down the lane. Two adventurers wearing rescue team badges, but carrying themselves with the air of fresh-faced rookies. So they would likely have a good haul, but not the smarts to catch up with her… Excellent. She grinned to herself. One of the pokemon was a sort she had never seen before, a massive orange thing with a face fixed atop and an aura of glowing electricity. She didn’t know much about it, but didn’t care; it looked too bulky to chase her, and that was all that mattered. The other was a Spinda, toddling along with steps like a drunkard’s. This pokemon, too, likely wouldn’t have the ability to chase after her. It looked a miracle for him to put one foot over the other.

She eyed them for signs of goodies. Ah, there it was—a patchwork satchel of fabric balanced atop the orange pokemon’s top, leaning against the spike that jutted out. It looked a bit shabby, but what did that matter? If it turned out to have nothing, Wicked could just toss it in some alley and look for a new mark.

Whistling to herself in the dark, the Weavile waited for the adventurers to pass by—and then she made her move.

Pouncing from the shadows, Wicked snagged the cloth sack on one of her long, sickle-like claws. “Sorry not sorry!” she said as she bolted the other direction. The two pokemon exclaimed something, but she left their words behind, slinking through crowds with top speed. She didn’t have time to check her haul, but at the very least the bag felt heavy, so she could clearly look forward to some sort of payday at the end of this one way or another.

After a few minutes’ running in which the thief was certain there was no pursuit, she ducked into a shadowed alleyway, and glanced down at her bag. “Now let’s see what—”

But her words died. The bag was… it was moving. Undulating. Two things she had taken for small rips or tears were blinking angrily at her. The bag, it was alive—it was a pokemon!

She had unwittingly kidnapped a Mimikyu!

Before Wicked had a chance to grapple with her situation, the Mimikyu’s cloth body opened and unveiled…

Snapping jaws. Seething darkness. Eldritch infinity.

She was stunned into helplessness, and the freshly-woken Mimikyu explorer, acting on pure instinct, swept over her, and the darkness swallowed her like a maw.

What occurred next was an eternity of darkened dreamtime, as Wicked was buffeted in the ever-changing darkness of the Mimikyu’s interior. “H-hello?!” she cried out fearfully. “Please, help!” But her voice was soft and weak, sounding to her own ears as if her mouth was full of cotton. The unreal shadows pressed around her, tightening against her—and then Wicked gasped as they suddenly pushed into her.

It was as if her body was liquid. The shadows spooled inside as easily as someone might dip a finger into a pool. The sensation was like drinking a sudden chilled beverage on a warm night, but infinitely more contrasting. The shadows dipped against her shoulders and legs and the small of her back, and the Weavile tossed and turned in the black embrace as she was suddenly, somehow, made a vessel to them, becoming one with them, and there was a quiet nagging sensation in the back of her head as if she had picked up an especially insistent imaginary friend—

And then she blinked awake in the alley. “GAHHHH!” she exhaled, holding a claw to her chest. A… a nightmare? Just a nightmare. It had to be. She… she didn’t even know what to think that was, to be honest. Just a strange sense of—

Her claws brushed against a loose leaf of fabric and she glanced down. The patchwork fabric of the Mimikyu’s costume was draped like a cloak or mantle over her shoulders, completely covering her red collar.

“What the?” Wicked muttered. She reached a claw to take it off—raggedy old thing!—but when she began to lift it a sinister curtain of shadows and dark mist sprinkled out and she flinched back with a loud “Eeeeeeek!”

Two eyes blinked awake on the fabric and stared up at her. “I’ll thank you not to mess with my costume any more than you already have, you ruffian!”

Wicked almost fainted. The voice—which was more or less androgynous, though if she had to place money, she’d bet ‘male’—was somehow emanating from… from her body. Not as in her lungs or larynx or mouth, but emerging from her actual, dark-furred flesh.

“Wh-what…” she said. “What are you?”

“Hmph! What? Now that’s quite crass.” A pair of shadow tendrils emerged from underneath the cloak of fabric (and Wicked almost began hyperventilating as she realized that in a way, she could almost feel them in the sense that one could sort-of-kind-of feel one’s hair or nails, and that they too were somehow coming from inside of her as if she was a portal to something or someplace else) and folded themselves in front of her torso like arms. “Not what, but who. Doppel’s the name, and I’m the leader of Team Doll—not some bag you could just palm away with, thank you very much!”

Wicked swallowed. The shadows, and the voice, they were… somehow emerging from her body. She reached one trembling claw for her stomach. She pushed gently against it and felt the familiar pressure of flesh push back. So she was solid, right?

“Oh, by the way,” the Mimikyu said, “let’s pick ourselves out of this dirt, shall we?”

Before Wicked could react—what did he mean pick ‘ourselves’ out?—her body suddenly moved on its own. “Hey, wait! Wha—?” she exclaimed as he legs moved under their own power. Suddenly she was standing upright and leaning against the alley wall.

“There, much better, wouldn’t you say?” Doppel said cheerily.

“How are you doing this?” Wicked replied. Her fear was quickly evaporating, and she felt her old fire come back. She stamped her feet into the dust experimentally to convince herself she still had control over them. If this pompous adventurer had done anything to her…!

“Yes, well, I’m not quite sure,” Doppel replied, his voice coming from her flesh in an all-too-eerie way. “Being a ghost, I always knew I could possess another pokemon, but I never really—”

“Possess!” Wicked cut in, shrill. So the dream—the shadows pouring into her—! “How dare you! You get out of there right now!” Summoning a flurry of rime about her fist, she unleashed a devastating Ice Punch against the invader—only to realize too late that if he was possessing her, then…

Well, she ended up just hurting herself.

“Now that’s quite unnecessary,” the Mimikyu said, voice cross, as Wicked reeled from her self-inflicted assault.

“Shut up!” she shouted back. Let’s try a different type! She wreathed her claws in darkness and pushed it at the tattered fabric.

It didn’t hurt any, but she felt that blow just fine as well.

“Are you quite done,” the Ghost-type replied, apparently none the worse for wear, as she winced from her own blow. “I promise, this is a contest that’ll only get worse from you the longer it goes on.”

“GET OUT OF MY BODY YOU WEIRDO!” Wicked screamed back. Her voice almost certainly would have carried outside of the alley, but she didn’t care. She had just gotten a very big problem.

Doppel’s shadow-arms crossed grumpily. “Your attitude is a bit rich, considering that you kidnapped me from my friends!”

“I thought you were a sack of goods!”

“Oh, so you’re a thief, not a kidnapper, my mistake, that’s so much better.” The Mimikyu’s voice dripped with scoffery. “I woke up from a much-deserved nap and saw an aggressor and, well, my instincts just kicked in… and now here we are.”

“So get out!”

“Well, about that.” The eyes on the sack suddenly took on an embarrassed, abashed look. “I’ve never possessed another pokemon before, and I merged with you by accident, so I… erm, don’t quite know how.”

Wicked felt she was going to faint. “Oh, that’s great,” she snapped, her voice acid. “Real wonderful.”

“But now that I know you’re a thief…” The pokemon possessing her sounded contemplative. “Aha! You’re that goods-snatcher that’s had the market in an uproar this past week, aren’t you?”

Wicked felt pride blossom in her despite herself. “You know it! You’re looking at the one and only Wicked!” She puffed her chest out, only realizing after that the gesture had set her breasts rubbing against Doppel. She blushed.

Thankfully, the Ghost-type didn’t seem to notice or care. “The Wicked, eh? Intriguing. I’ve heard stories about your speed and dexterity. With your talents, you could be a true force for good!”

The Weavile scoffed. “Yeah, right. I don’t want to be some goody two-shoes.”

“Well.” Doppel held quiet for a moment, and then the cloth mantle puffed out a bit, as if the creature beneath was exhaling triumphantly. “In that case, I think I know just how to cement Team Doll’s reputation. Just throwing you in prison seems a waste… especially since given our current predicament, I’d be your unwitting cellmate. No no, that wouldn’t do at all. What we need… is rehabilitation.”

Before Wicked had a chance to blink and shout ‘what?’ she was surprised by a sudden, inky feeling down in her body—and then direct from her stomach, a shadowy tendril emerged holding two guild badges. Her eyes boggled out of her head. “Wait, where did those…”

Doppel ignored her, slapping a badge on his cloth mangle before pinning one to the leather waistbelt that Wicked wore. “Welcome to Team Doll, Wicked!”

Silence reigned over the alley before Wicked snorted and crossed her arms. “Yeah right. Get real, ghostie.”

“Oh, I assure you that I am quite real. With my help, you’re going to cast aside those thieving ways and become a force for good!” The shadow tendril stroked the bottom of the sackcloth as if it was a chin. “Not to mention that we’re rather stuck together, so. The adventurer life is going to find you one way or another regardless.”

Wicked scoffed. Perhaps they were stuck—and perhaps her attempts to evict this joyriding ghost with violence hadn’t panned out. But if they had to share a life, why couldn’t it be hers? Especially since it was her body they were cohabiting!

“That ain’t happening,” she said lazily. “You’re stuck with me, you goodie-goodie, so you’ll just have to live a thief’s life until you figure out how to unstick yourself.” She took off down the alley to go find another victim.

Her leg stopped mid-step on the third stride, quivering in the air as she tried to force it down to the pavement. She tried… and tried… but there wasn’t any way she could make it move!

“No, that won’t be happening,” said Doppel. His voice was firm. “Now let’s go the other way.”

Wicked’s body spun on her heel, and then she suddenly had control again. She hissed. She did not like this creature’s attitude!

“I’m telling you, ghostie, shove off! I got work to do and pockets to pick!” This time she leapt for the wall, hoping to scurry up a drain onto the roof. As she was halfway up, her body suddenly locked up and she slid back down. A Grumpig opened a small, dirty window on the floor above and looked down at her. Wicked’s cheeks blushed. Her rep was being ruined!

“I said no.” Doppel’s voice was even firmer. “We are not stealing. This is your big shot to turn your life around.”

“Turn it around from what?!” Wicked demanded. Her voice echoed through the alley. The Grumpig watched with open fascination. “You don’t know me! I like my life! And I’m not gonna spend it as the pet project for some ratty ghost and his wannabe quest!” She flipped up and snagged a necklace off the Grumpig, who’d been watching the Weavile argue with a seemingly invisible belligerent. The swine pokemon gasped. “Heh, yeah!” Wicked said, looking at the goods. “That’s what I’m talking abou—”

“I sAiD wE’rE nOt StEaLiNg!”

A sensation unlike anything Wicked had ever even imagined came over her. Her body… well, melted wasn’t quite the right word, but… one moment it was there, a thing of flesh and fur and claws, brimming with icy power and coiled with an acrobat’s muscles, and the next it was a shimmering, undulating web of formless shadow, like all the darkness in her dream had coalesced into one shape. Her body was suddenly a mass of writhing umbral force from the neck down, like a dozen Mimikyu tentacles all massed together and teeming angrily. One of them yanked the necklace and gave it back to the Grumpig, who screamed and slammed her window shut. Doppel’s Mimikyu sackcloth billowed out angrily around her and the shadows hidden underneath—which Wicked somehow knew were far far worse than those already on display—threatened to spill out. The sense of another’s anger threaded through her like a crashing waterfall.

I’m going to die, she thought, desperately fearful. Tears welled up in her eyes. She had no control over the mass of shadows, not one ounce. This is it for me.

And suddenly the anger diminished (it didn’t subside, it was still present, but it was no longer all encompassing) and the shadows retreated, coalescing into a physical form again, and suddenly Wicked’s body was back to being a normal Weavile’s shape.

She heaved for breath in dismay. “What—what did you—”

“Our bodies are one,” Doppel said curtly. He was still furious and barely holding onto it. “As everything below a Mimikyu’s mantle is writhing shadow, so is everything under my mantle. I have allowed it into a familiar shape for your convenience. I could easily not do that.”

Wicked tried to swallow, but couldn’t, for the sudden dryness in her mouth. Oh.

“My intention is not to kill or frighten you,” Doppel said after a moment. The anger was slowly subsiding. “I felt your fear and I felt you cry. I am sorry for making you afraid. But.” His next words were crisp. “Allow me to be clear. We will not. Be thieves. Now.” Under his power, Wicked’s trembling body rose. “Let us reunite with my cohorts and we can get you inducted as a team member at the guild.”

Wicked found her fire again. The fear was bleeding into rage. How dare he scare her like that! “I’m not going,” she said angrily. “You can’t make me.”

“I can.”

“By what?!” she challenged. “Taking away my body again?”

“No need for such crassness,” Doppel scoffed. And suddenly two long shadow tendrils emerged from under the patchwork cloth, and one was binding Wicked tight, and the other grew long claws that it used to scuttle along, dragging the indignantly shouting pokemon along the way “Don’t mind us,” Doppel said as pokemon outside of the alley gaped as they passed. “Caught a criminal.”

“Let me go!” Wicked howled.

Finally finding the two pokemon she’d encountered before, they ran up to her and her passenger.

“Boss!” said the big orange one in a glitchy, staticy electronic voice. It sounded girlish. “You’re, uh, okay? And it looks like you subdued the kidnapper.”

“About that,” Doppel said, unfurling the shadows. His teammates did double-takes. “There’s a bit of a situation…”

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Wicked woke the next morning hoping it had been a bad dream, and her expectations were immediately dashed when she realized that her head was bobbing upright, and that Doppel had commandeered her body while she was asleep to craft himself some hot tea.

“Ah, you’re awake.” Immediately the sackcloth—which had expanded to cover all of Wicked’s form with only her tail sticking out at the angle of a usual Mimikyu’s tail, leaving her looking like an oversized costume for the creature—retreated, leaving her own body intact and her tail back where it should be. “Afraid I can keep odd hours, but worry not! It seems that you’re a deep sleeper.”

“Wonders,” Wicked muttered. Yesterday they’d made their case towards the guild, and a combination of their very unusual circumstances and Doppel’s arguments that he’d effectively reform this legendary criminal had been enough to convince the authorities to forgo imprisonment for the Weavile. Instead she’d been inducted as a temporary member of Team Doll with Doppel as her ward, for lack of a better term.

“Flurry and Wendall are almost here,” Doppel continued, naming the other two teammates—the big orange one (a ‘Rotom,’ apparently) and the Spinda, respectively. “And then we can get started on rehabilitation. I’m sure you have a hideout somewhere, so we’re going to get all your goods and then give them back to their proper owners, complete with a heartfelt apology!”

Wicked sniffed. This sucked. This was the worst. But whatever. It was only temporary. She’d find a way to eject this joyrider and get back at him, and then she’d be able to resume her life of crime as an infamous thief.

“Whatever,” she said. “Let’s get started.”