It turned out that dreaming up a brand-new streaming platform was the easy part. Actually making it interesting? That was a different story.
Joseph sat cross-legged on the floor of his enormous bedroom, staring at his PokéGear screen like it owed him money. Tyrunt was curled up beside him, snoring blissfully, completely unaware that his star power had yet to break double digits.
Joseph had streamed three times that week already. So far, his entire audience consisted of one elderly gardener who claimed he only watched because he thought the "EeTvee" app was a weather tracker.
"Maybe it's my angle," Joseph muttered. He leaned toward the PokéGear and made faces. He tried holding Tyrunt up like a plushie. He even attempted a "Tyrunt reacts to eating a spicy berry" segment, which ended with Tyrunt charring half a couch cushion.
It wasn't enough.
Joseph drummed his fingers on the floor. He needed an edge—something to make his streams stand out. He needed a way to get cool shots during battles. Maybe some goofy overlays. Edits. Jump cuts.
He needed a cameraman.
The next morning, Joseph marched into the estate's library—well, one of them—and slammed a stack of books down onto a polished oak table. Tyrunt trotted behind him, claws clicking on the marble floor.
"Alright, buddy," Joseph said, flipping open a big hardcover volume titled Rare Electric-Type Pokémon of Kalos. "We need a partner. A Pokémon that can handle a camera, maybe do some editing on the fly, and not electrocute me on purpose. Any ideas?"
Tyrunt cocked his head, clearly understanding none of it.
"Run?"
Joseph skimmed the pages. He passed by Pikachu—too mainstream. Magnemite—too floaty, plus magnets near electronics seemed risky. Then he spotted it: a cheeky orange ghost peeking out from a washing machine.
"Rotom."
He grinned. Perfect. A Rotom could possess electronics, right? That meant it could handle a camera, maybe even edit the feed while it filmed. Plus, Rotoms were notorious pranksters. Pranks equaled content. Content equaled views.
"Tyrunt, pack your bags," Joseph said, dramatically shutting the book. "We're going Rotom hunting."
Finding a Rotom was easier said than done. Joseph spent the afternoon pestering the estate staff for local ghost stories. After some awkward "Are you sure you're okay, sir?" looks, one of the groundskeepers finally caved and pointed him toward an abandoned wing of the mansion.
Apparently, this place was so big it even had rooms no one bothered to visit anymore. Decades ago, Joseph's parents had used the wing to store old fossil revival equipment. Now, it was just a dusty maze of crates and flickering lights. Perfect Rotom habitat.
Joseph pushed open the creaky door, flashlight in hand. Tyrunt bounded in first, sniffing at broken computer monitors stacked against the wall.
"Alright, spooky little toaster ghost," Joseph called. "Come out, come out, wherever you are..."
Something buzzed overhead. The overhead lights flickered violently. Tyrunt jumped, accidentally smashing his head into an ancient desk. Joseph winced. "That's gonna leave a dent, bud."
He scanned the room, then spotted a flicker of orange light zipping from one monitor to another. He grinned.
"Found you."
It took half an hour of comedic hide-and-seek. Every time Joseph got close, the Rotom cackled—an actual, gleeful "Rooo-tom!"—then zipped into a different appliance. Tyrunt tried to help, but mostly just headbutted anything that moved.
Finally, Joseph had an idea. He pulled out his PokéGear, flipped it to camera mode, and turned the screen toward the darkness.
"Hey, Rotom! Look, I'm a streamer!" He did a ridiculous pose, sticking out his tongue and throwing up peace signs. Tyrunt mimicked him by chomping on a microphone stand.
A pair of glowing eyes peeked out from a dusty computer tower. Rotom hovered there, its mischievous grin growing wider.
"Rooo...?"
"That's right," Joseph said, fighting the urge to giggle. "You like pranks, right? Tricks? Imagine all the people you could spook on camera. Think about it: live streams, ghostly photobombs, editing goofy faces over me. You'd be famous."
Rotom's sparks crackled brighter. It zipped closer, circling the PokéGear, its static charge making Joseph's hair stand on end.
"Rotom?"
"Yep! My name's Joseph. This is Tyrunt. He's adorable and dumb as bricks, but we love him anyway."
"Run-run!" Tyrunt said proudly.
Rotom paused, glanced at Tyrunt, then at Joseph. For a moment, Joseph wondered if the little ghost would zap him just for fun. But instead, it buzzed once more, then dived straight into the PokéGear with a soft zwoop.
The screen flickered wildly. Random faces popped up. Joseph's face stretched and shrank. Tyrunt suddenly wore a clown nose. A fart sound effect played out of nowhere.
Joseph whooped and threw his fist in the air. "Yes! You're hired! You're gonna make us stars, buddy!"
Tyrunt tried to eat the PokéGear. Rotom slapped a digital sticker of a 'NO' sign on Tyrunt's nose.
Back in his room, Joseph lay sprawled on his bed, PokéGear propped up on his chest. Rotom zipped through the circuits like it owned the place, adding sparkles, filters, and doodles to the live feed. Tyrunt sat behind him, mugging for the camera with a big goofy grin. Every time Tyrunt blinked, Rotom edited googly eyes onto his face. Joseph nearly fell off the bed laughing.
He tapped the big red "Go Live" button.
"Yo! What's up, world? It's your boy Joseph, back with another EeTvee stream!"
His viewer count ticked up—two people, then five, then eleven. Better than zero. Progress.
"Say hi to our new friend!" He flipped the camera around. Rotom zipped into view, its tiny ghostly body wiggling happily. It immediately slapped a "Hello!" sticker on the feed, complete with confetti.
Tyrunt roared and attempted to tackle the PokéGear again. Rotom cackled and zapped Tyrunt's tail, making him do a little dance.
Joseph doubled over laughing.
"Okay, okay, you two. Behave for the audience! Today's our first official test stream with Team EeTvee. We've got Tyrunt, the muscle and the looks—" He gave Tyrunt's horn a gentle pat. "And Rotom, our new cameraman-slash-editor-slash-meme-lord."
His chat filled with the occasional "LOL" and one "Is this real?" comment. Joseph's heart soared.
They spent the next hour just messing around. Joseph gave a tour of the mansion, with Rotom adding goofy captions over fancy statues. When Tyrunt chased a Pidgey out of the garden, Rotom turned it into a mock action movie scene, complete with dramatic music.
At one point, Joseph tripped over a garden hose. Rotom rewound the footage and replayed it in slow motion, adding sparkles every time he face-planted into the grass. Joseph's sides hurt from laughing. Even Tyrunt seemed to be in on the joke, rolling on the lawn and bellowing "Run-run!" every time Joseph fell over.
By the time he ended the stream, his viewer count sat at fifty-two. Small—but he could see the potential. Comments rolled in: "Do more!" "What's Tyrunt's favorite snack?" "Can Rotom possess a toaster next time?"
Joseph grinned so wide his cheeks hurt.
That night, he lay awake, Tyrunt snoring next to him, Rotom quietly flickering in and out of the overhead lamp. His mind buzzed with possibilities. With Rotom's pranks, Tyrunt's adorable destruction, and his own brand of chaotic energy, EeTvee might actually work.
But more than that—it was fun. For the first time since he'd arrived here, Joseph felt like he was doing something that was truly him. Not just the rich heir of some fossil researchers. Not just another random kid with a big house.
He was Joseph. The goofy streamer with the chompy dino and the mischievous ghost.
And someday, everyone would want to be just like him.
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