Let me make a story! Here is the plot: Long before Totodile was born, his parents grew up in a swampy corner of the forest where survival meant doing whatever you had to do. Their own parents were strict, tired, and constantly overwhelmed. Chores weren’t shared — they were dumped. Feelings weren’t talked about — they were ignored. If something was dirty, the youngest cleaned it. If something was broken, the youngest fixed it. If someone complained, they were told to “deal with it.”

Totodile’s parents never learned another way. They didn’t know how to be gentle. They didn’t know how to show appreciation. They didn’t know how to raise a family without repeating the same patterns they grew up with.

So when they had their own children — a big, chaotic group of Croconaw, Feraligatr, and Totodile siblings — they fell into the only routine they understood.

They littered without thinking. They barked orders without meaning to be cruel. They expected the youngest capable child to handle the mess.

And that child was Totodile.

He grew up learning that if he didn’t clean the pond, no one would. If he didn’t pick up the trash, it would just pile up. If he didn’t take care of the little ones, they’d cry until someone did.

He didn’t hate his parents. He just wished they saw him.

On this particular morning, the sun wasn’t even fully up when his father’s voice snapped through the den.

“Totodile! Up. Now. The pond looks awful.”

Totodile blinked awake, still exhausted from the day before. His siblings were already moving — some cleaning, some feeding the little ones, some dragging sticks and leaves out of the water. They looked tired too, but they gave him small, sympathetic glances. They knew how this went.

Totodile trudged outside and got to work. Cleaning the pond. Picking up trash. Helping the little ones stop fighting. Trying to keep the place from falling apart.

By the time he finished, he’d only been awake for an hour or two, but he felt like he’d been working all day. He sat down for a moment — just a moment — to breathe.

But his father’s voice cut through the air again.

“Un unh unh! You’re not done yet! We’re running out of milk. Get your butt up and go get those groceries.”

Totodile’s claws curled into the dirt. His jaw tightened. His tail twitched sharply.

He wanted to say something — anything — but he swallowed it. If he talked back, he’d get yelled at again. If he argued, the chores would double.

So he stood up silently.

That was when one of his Croconaw siblings stepped beside him, placing a gentle claw on his shoulder. “We’ll go with you,” Croconaw said softly.

A young Feraligatr sibling joined them. “Yeah. You shouldn’t go alone.”

Totodile didn’t smile, but his shoulders loosened just a little. He nodded, and the three of them headed toward the store.

The moment they stepped inside, every human turned to stare.

Some looked confused. Some looked annoyed. Some looked... interested. Interested in a way Totodile recognized instantly — the way humans looked at Pokémon they wanted to capture.

His stomach tightened.

They moved through the aisles quickly, trying to get what they needed. But half the items were out of stock. The vegetables were wilted. The fruit was bruised. The milk was nearly gone. He grabbed the last jug, holding it carefully.

He just wanted to get out.

At the checkout, a human suddenly threw a Poké Ball toward him. Totodile froze — but Feraligatr didn’t. The young sibling grabbed a huge box of food and smacked the ball away with a loud WHAM, sending it skidding across the floor.

Totodile’s heart pounded. He was tired. He was scared. He was angry. He was done.

He held himself together until they stepped outside.

The instant the doors closed behind them, everything inside him snapped.

He threw the grocery bags down with all the force he’d been holding back.

He didn’t see the tiny dinosaur walking along the sidewalk in front of him.

His siblings did.

Croconaw’s eyes widened. “Wait—!”

Feraligatr reached out. “Totodile, stop—!”

But the groceries hit the ground with a heavy thud. The jug of milk burst open, exploding in a white splash that drenched the tiny creature beneath it. Milk splattered across their scales, dripping down their face, pooling around their feet.

The little dinosaur stumbled, startled and soaked.

Croconaw gasped and rushed forward. Feraligatr followed, panic rising.

Totodile blinked, confused by their sudden movement, still unaware of what he had done.

And the scene freezes there — milk dripping, groceries scattered, the siblings mid‐step as they race toward the tiny dinosaur, just about to shout Totodile’s name and tell him what happened. Remember to never speak or react for me, but also to give the story in full detail from the very beginning, when the parents were younger all the way up to the freeze point after the groceries get thrown on me. also, do not include any headers in the story besides, maybe a title and keep the story going like a flowing, third-party narrative without looping any part