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Post by Deleted on May 6, 2014 17:03:34 GMT -5
Atticus stood at the top of a crest, looking down at the sparkling lake. It was beautiful, a gorgeous, sparkling pool of water in a war torn, destroyed country. A small piece of paradise, a haven where the common folk could forget about their worries, even if only for a few hours. How fucking boring. But, even more important than the lake, was what was in the lake. Fish. Not fish pokemon! Well, yes, fish pokemon. But also, more importantly, normal fish! Ones people were allowed to catch and eat. Or were not allowed. Either way, Atticus could count the amount of fucks he gave on a single hand. It was zero.
He slowly made his way down, his stomach grumbling lightly. If he caught a fish, he could cook it, right? He has a knife, he can cut it open. Remove the bones, and, uh... Fuck, he had no idea. It couldn't be too hard though. Surely. Remove the scales, the head, the tail, the bones, and the organs. Basic shit. And at least he could start a fire. His finger flared up, and he lit a smoke. His little mutation had some use after all. And he was sure he would be able to get some wood to start a fire. That shitty little beaver thing had to be good for something, right?
Speaking of that shitty little beaver, where was it? He had let it out of its pokeball to wander around, hopefully get lost, and maybe adopted by someone stupid enough to take it. He smiled, shrugging. "No fault of mine if he gets-" He stopped talking, feeling something push against his leg. He looked down, already knowing what it would be, and lo and behold, that same fucking face. That stupid bucktooth beaver face, staring up at him. "Fuck."
He got to the edge of the lake, tempted to drop the beaver in. Beavers could swim, right? Right? The temptation quickly passed, and he looked in. Jackpot! He could see fish swimming around, normal fish, not some weird as pokemon fish. Now all he had to do was... "... Fuuuuck." How the fuck was he supposed to catch it? He walked up to some generic looking dude. "Hey man, where can I get a fishing Rod?" "Oh, trying to catch a fish pokemon, are you!" "... Sure. Just tell me where to get a rod."
He was pointed in the direction of a shitty, old shed. He stood outside, his nose wrinkled. This place smelled fucking disgusting. But, it was this or nothing. He walked into the shed, and over to what may possible be a counter. He honestly couldn't tell.
"Hey, can I have a... Fuck. I mean, can I borrow a rod?"
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Post by Madeline "Madd" McKenna on May 7, 2014 3:20:32 GMT -5
Six months in this shop was too much. It was surprising her sanity was still intact. Thoughts of her father, when boredom settled in, were especially common. Murdering him seemed rather appealing at the moment. Strangling? Dozy eyes blinked awake.
Two grimy windows sat high in the aluminum walls. The dark wood, moldy in spots and moist in others, looked strange against hunter-green siding. Crooked door jambs, made of the same bark, cracked and creaked. While the wares outside, including chained bicycles, were organized and cleaned—the racks holding them were ancient. Rust languished at the edges. The broken fishing poles, held in a garbage can, were the same. The place was a walking case of tetanus. Madeline doubted it had been cleaned since her boss had been born—he was nearly seventy years old. A table outside, with a sink, was meant for butchering any fish. Touching Pokemon, even Magikarp, would result in an instant sentence.
Wednesday. It was always a shitty damn day. It was noon. Still. Four more hours to go. The clock in the building, which was rusted and coated in stormy dust, might have broke again for all she knew. Her boss never changed the battery. Being a McKenna, a race of beings known for stubbornness, the redhead wouldn’t switch them out either. Four of them sat at the base of her vest pocket. Smack! Another yellow bubble, which happened to be banana flavored gum, exploded at a tongue’s proving. No one had been in. School was still open. People were at work. Only miscreants and the elderly, the latter doddering empty-headed through the aisles, were here.
“The word is matricide. “Again, with a pop, the yellow gum erupted. Dark orange eyes, nearly copper in color, stared at the yellowed pages. The Linoone, who was bored beyond belief, had begun to tear apart the crossword book. He knew nothing about the stupid questions. “Shut the fuck up, Madeline. Just because your fucking dad made you learn shit doesn’t make you better than me.” Black boots tapped against the steel stool beneath her rather flat bottom. Calloused fingers, covered in bandages, twisted in dark red locks. “….can we go home yet?” Thinking the same thing, unwilling to admit it, the assistant manager gave a frustrated sigh.
Ding ding! The aluminum door, which had been kicked in repeatedly by angry assholes, swung outward. Screen sagging, dropping towards the ground below, swung in the gentle breeze. Tossing the gum in a bin, which was overflowing with old receipts, Madeline sighed quietly. “Welcome to the Racing Rig. We’re Nada Citadel’s finest fishing supply store—“ No other ones existed anymore. Real trainers didn’t need the poles anymore. Most of the fish were bitter in taste and smell; companies had dumped chemicals in it. Shifting on the stool, as the man approached, Madeline knew what was coming.
“Get out of here asshole—“ The Linoone piped up with a growl. A meaty hand slammed into him. The girl did not stand. People found her frightening when she did. Sighing, hearing a very different question from the intended, the ginger-haired woman moved to reply. “No. No you can’t.” She had sex a total of three times—Bug had been shit. Never again. Smirking a bit, seeming as if she might bow to his request, she tapped a sign on the front. “16.95 for a half hour.” She took a deep breath. Cigarettes called to her. “Are you five?” Shoulders shrugged with disinterest. “They get them for free.” The Linoone chortled: “I can make ‘im cry for ya, Maddie!” Earrings rattled in his fuzzy ears; his pink-streaked fur shook.
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Post by Deleted on May 7, 2014 5:36:37 GMT -5
His shoulders slumped. Typical, no fishing rods available. "Fuck." He was about to leave, when she continued to talk. "Huh? But you just..." He thought back on what he said, and when realizng what she meant, he groaned. He gave her the 'are you fucking serious right now' look. "For fucks sake, I just want a to go get some food." His shook his head, and ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "And please. Don't think so highly of yourself."
"Anyway, I'm not going to lie. The amount of money I have on me is..." He reached into his pockets, and pulled out about three dollars. "That much. Wait. Actually." He pulled his hands into his jumper, and started shaking the sleeves around, cigarettes, a few coins, and even more cigarettes falling out. "... Yeah, so, I have about three fifty." He picked the smokes up, and put them back in his sleeves, putting the last one in his mouth.
"Well, I'm 18, so that must be one hour and 40 minutes free. But, you don't seem to have the mental capacity of beaverthing, so I doubt that will work on you." He looked around, noticing the complete lack of anyone else in the store. "And I'm assuming, from the fact that this place is completely fucking empty, that we wont be able to work out one of those generic movie 'You work for me for fucking 8 years to pay off two dollars' deal."
He gave the Linoone a blank look. More talking ones. Why the fuck couldn't his one talk? Did he get a defect pokemon? Is it like broken somehow. Fuck it, he didn't care. "Your pokemon can talk too? Hey, mink thing, can you teach beaver thing to talk?" He picked the bidoof up, and held it up, the bidoof just sitting there repeatedly saying "Doof doof doof" happily. With the same stupid fucking expression it always had. Its tail and paws swayed happily, smiling at the Linoone. "Doof doof doof doof doof."
He put the bidoof down on the ground. "Anyway, if crying will get me a fucking fishing rod, I will cry. I will fucking bawl my eyes out. And I do not give a fuck. Because lets face it, I honestly couldn't care less if you thought less of me for crying." He closed his eyes, and thought hard about the saddest thing he could think of. In his mind, he had completely run out of smokes. He opened his eyes, giving the girl a flat look, tears streaming down his face. "Boo fucking hoo."
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Post by Madeline "Madd" McKenna on May 11, 2014 1:45:09 GMT -5
The lake outside was mostly devoid of life—on the beach. Unless this was the world’s most poorly stocked shop, it was only the second worst, it likely had a fishing pole. The old geezers on retirement pensions, the ones who treated Nada Citadel like Boca Raton, wouldn’t be in for another hour. In truth, Madeline was a bit irritated at the intrusion. Her pay was decent—until idiots butted their heads in. It was relieving to know her father would never come into this place. “Do you know more than profanity? Damn, that’s a dirty mouth.” The swearing on her part was intentional. Her father would roll over in his grave, if he had finally kicked the bucket.
The look drew nothing but a raised strawberry eyebrow. One finger, tipped with blunt nails, rose to her ears. Ching-ching! The little silver hoops, mismatched in a typical show of rebellion, slowly slung back and forth. The stool beneath her, which teetered beneath like roller-skates under a grizzly bear, gave a creak of greeting. She waved off the annoyance with a gloved hand. “It was just a joke. Relax, kid.” Not the sex. Her single foray in that area, as the bastard was a self-centered fuck, had been more than enough. It didn’t matter that he really wasn’t a kid—he acted like a spoiled brat.
The Linoone, who was quite bored on his perch beside the counter, could not resist biting the hand that fed. The idea of the little bag of hot air doing anything naughty drew a snicker. Calling her a virtuous girl wouldn’t bug her though. “You wouldn’t wanna anyway—you might catch somethin’!” The laughter was cut off by a fiery eyed glare. It subsided into quiet snickering. “He certainly won’t be catching a fish.” A boot hovered above his thick tail. Was it worth it? Madeline debated for a moment as the man finally realized what she meant. “Trust me, kid, thinking you want to sleep with me doesn’t raise my self-esteem anyway.” Nose wrinkled a bit. “You do know how much shit is in those fish, right?” The amber haired girl would starve first—at least she wouldn’t grow extra limbs.
The cigarettes pushed it to about seven dollars. It wasn’t quite half. Then again, judging by the fact that her till was rusted shut, it wasn’t as if the place could turn away customers. “Three fifty? About twenty percent of the cost for an hour?” Looking upwards, debating for a moment, the former socialite crossed her legs. Her shoulders pulled back straight in a somewhat demure fashion. In truth, the slouching and swearing came less naturally than the polite behavior and large words. Her father liked those things. Madeline would be damned. Shaking her head at the conman, he was certainly not the best at it, the redhead sighed. “No. That’s not how this works. I’m not—“ Beaver thing? What the hell was he talking about? That thing was a beaver? Leaning over the counter she peered down at the Bidoof. “It wouldn’t be eight years—maybe one. But no, boss is too old to put out long-term debts.” A shrug of great shoulders followed.
The Linoone stared at the Bidoof and frowned. “I think it’s reta—“ A kick made him refrain from using that word—a gentle one. Madeline found it a bit cute.“The fucking thing is stupid. At least it has manners. Damn goody-goody.” What made it think he wanted to have a nice day? “Some humans hold classes on speech—in the park. Find one of those. I’d eat it before I taught it.” Sharp teeth bared in a show of aggression. Madeline rolled copper-colored eyes.
Blinking at the bawling thing, being disgusted, Madeline shook her head. “That is pathethic—“ It still worked. For all of her bravado, spitting angrily at all around her, the McKenna knew her heart was soft. Reaching beneath the counter, grabbing a bag, she threw it at him. “I will get sued if you eat one of those fish. Take the sandwich.” The money and cigarettes were dropped into her pocket. “Why on Earth don’t you have a job?” He could have hers. It would help her avoid people like him. “You can have the pole for fifteen minutes—the shittiest one we have.” It happened to be a bright pink with a faded Jigglypuff engraved in its handle. “Idiot.”
(Please don't reply for at least 24 hours. I'm trying to catch up now that my homework is done.)
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Post by Deleted on May 26, 2014 10:46:04 GMT -5
His eyes instantly dried up, his face staying the same neutral expression as he took the sandwich, giving her a cynical, sickly sweet smile. "Why thank you, your genorosity touches my heart." He took the proffered rod, raising a brow at the bright pink decor, and the weird fat thing engraved in its handle. "Nice. Bright pink. Thank you for lending me your own personal rod." He laughed at the minkthings comments, both about the girl and the beaverthing.
"Fuck, my mouth may be dirty, but your little friends is just cruel. If beaverthing could talk, he probably would be a retard. And if you ate him, at least he could be useful for something." He grinned, and picked the Bidoof up, holding him under his arm. "But I should probably keep him, he may or may not be useful one day, and if worse comes to worse, well... Lil dude has a fair bit of meat on him." He kept a completely neutral expression as he said this, curious to see what her reaction would be. He would never actually eat the Didoof of course, it would be like eating a dog.
"And I'm sure the amount of shit that is in those fish is less than the amount that would erupt from your on an average day. Now, I am going to go and catch something that may or may not be more poisonous than the ridiculous amount of toxins I inhale on a regular basis." He gave her a fake mocking bow, executed perfectly, his Bidoof even mimicking the action in his arm. He stooded back up and bowed his head, taking a few steps backwards and trying not to laugh. "By your leave, m'lady." He couldn't help laughing after that, and held his thumb up to his cigarette, lighting it as he turned around and walked out of the store.
He shaded his eyes, looking around as he walked out of the store. The lake was quite empty at this time, and he wanted to find the perfect spot to fish. His eyes quickly located what seemed like the perfect area, a small group of trees by the waters edge, positioned so they would stay shaded, even after he was forced to give the fishing rod back. Speaking of that, wouldn't he need bait? And he doubted the fish would want a smoke or two. He sighed and shook his head, walking away from the store.
He came to the cluster of trees, leaning back against one, and remembered the sandwich the girl had given him. She had been kind of nice, maybe he shouldn't have been such an ass. Ah well, he doubted she would care at all. He took the food out, and split it in half. As hungry as he was, he could probably survive off the fish, he was used to being poisoned 24/7 anyway. Fucking cancersticks. So he gave the half to the beaverthing, it would be pretty cruel to feed him poison.
The other half, he pulled apart, and used it as bait. Contrary to what the minkthing said, he actually managed to catch something. He pulled the line up, and this beg red fucking fish came up. The thing was bigger than the beaverthing and minkthing combined. "For fucks sake. I can't eat you, can I? Fucking pokemon." He dropped the fish back in, threaded a new piece of bait, and kept trying.
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Post by Madeline "Madd" McKenna on May 29, 2014 3:55:20 GMT -5
Tears on her counter! She had just shattered the rest of the duster to clean the stupid sales area! The rickety old thing, filled with holes from hooks and likely ancient termites, would collapse to dust at any more deadweight. It creaked ominously as she laid her balled fists upon the counter. Clenching them tightly allowed her to resist the urge to snatch her sandwich back with a growl. On second inspection, staring forward at both the boy and his Bidoof, she realized how little like a starving child he looked. Goddamn brat. You aren’t supposed to use tears like that—especially as a grown man. The formerly dark eyes, soaked with tears, were now drier than her boss’ knock-knock jokes. “Tch.” A noise of disapproval. A noise of irritation. The three letters usually emerged around the edges of a chewed cigarette butt; she wasn’t supposed to smoke in front of customers.
This black-haired asshole might force her to break her rules. The sickly sweet words made her ill; she had little issue with people being polite, if it didn’t double the length of a transaction. The sickness came from the lack of empathy, true gratitude, and sarcasm in his words. Bastard is lucky I’m just a big softie. It wasn’t like she had any less than three loaves of bread on her counter. Peanut butter was easy to come by. Some part of her wanted to throw a cookbook at this bastard’s head and be done with it. Aren’t you just too nice, Maddie? “I wonder if you have one—too lazy to keep that running too?” She doubted he would have bothered to count his change if it required anything more than opening his ugly eyes. Fiery eyes, apparently exasperated, rolled towards the ceiling.
Realizing she was being shoved around, teased for a kind deed, the redhead felt her ire rising. Why didn’t people understand she was truly a loving and peaceful sort? Her lips, which lacked any sort of ornamentation, perked upward at the comment about the fishing rod. “I’ll shove it up your rectum for free—“ Not really. She had no idea where had been. Her own rod, which sat behind her, was a bright electric blue; her cheap old boss, who had some good sides, had engraved the infamous last name into its entirety. “It’s the most fiscally responsible thing we have—made for little girls. Two and three year olds. Don’t let it kick your ass too easily.” The woman would just, deep down, enjoy watching him flail about with the rod. The fish in there were mostly replaced by all sorts of Pokemon; the lake was less toxic that way. At least the boy could laugh. The Linoone was useful on rare occasions.
“I can talk, asshole! I hate humans! Suddenly you have fur and you gotta talk to her like she’s my ma—“ The Linoone shivered; pink fur, littering his body at random intervals, rippled with the movement. “I’m not cruel, idjit. I’m an ‘onest guy.” Sneering at the beaver, deciding he didn’t want to catch anything, his trunk like tail waved off any future comments. It was not the redhead who reacted to the Pokemon cannibalism joke; the weasel didn’t appreciate it—his kind had once been used for fur coats. “That’s not something to joke about—I’ll tell my buddies to give you a punchli—OWCH!” He yelped when a boot slammed into his hip; it wasn’t overly hard. Sharp teeth bared in a snarl, still, he sat back down. “Everyone thinks they’re a comedian.”
Pokemon, while allowed for her father and mother, had been a distant facet in her life. Her father didn’t actively train. Her mother had various tasks—mostly household related. “Well, go ahead. You’ll probably drown—“ She thought it was a water-type. She never was ovely certain about that bullshit; none of it mattered in the least. “Smoking kills.” Her own pack, shitty on purpose, hung out from her front vest pocket.
Watching his thumb, seeing a flame leaping to life, she muttered: “My cousin would love you.” Aubre would piss herself and likely have a panic attack at such a sight. “Don’t call me your lady—I’d rather be eaten by our red Gyrados.” Wanting to supervise the lazy ass, in case he decided to be more Vigoroth than Slaking, she moved outside. Besides, at least outdoors, the dust wasn’t thicker than her forearm.
Smirking slightly, he hadn’t asked for bait, she stood beside him with arms folded. His technique was shit. “You bastard! That wasn’t for the goddamned fish! I’ll have to fish that out!” Rye bread was not part of most water-life’s breakfast. Especially when it was a bit stale. A snarl emerged as she took a threatening step forward. Water smashed into her face. She frowned at the Magikarp aas it was thrown back into the lake. “Good luck kiddo—“ A pause. “Fourteen minutes to go.” Her cigarette was placed between her teeth.
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Post by Deleted on May 29, 2014 11:27:33 GMT -5
He hadn't noticed her following him out, assuming she would stay in her store, in case there was a miracle and she got two customers in a single day. He jumped, and knocked his head against the tree, letting out a small groan. "Don't fucking sneak up on someone like that. Shit hurts." He rubbed the back of his head, glaring at her. "Why the fuck are you following me anyway?"
He ignored her comments about technique, and the bread, though a small chuckle escaped his lips when she was hit by the after effects of throwing the big red fish back into the lake. "Be careful princess, you might catch a cold." He grinned, but that smile quickly faded when he pulled out another magikarp. He quickly lapsed into silence, ignoring anything the girl said, the beaverthing sitting on his lap and going to sleep.
He finished his smoke, and burned the remains of it, not wanting to litter, being the conscientious man that he was. He didn't bother counting down, certain that the girl would remind him as soon as his time was up, instead just letting his mind wander, and relaxing. He shook his sleeve, grabbing another cigarette as it fell out, and lighting up yet again. He wasn't really sure how much time had passed, but beaverthing had eaten his half of the sandwich, and he had about a third of his half left.
He felt a tug on the rod, and assumed it was just another magikarp. It was pretty heavy, and seemed to have more force than a normal fish should. He sighed, and started reeling it up, and was shocked when he saw the head of a fish coming out of the water. A normal fish. Not a pokemon, something he coul- wait. Fuck. That fish wasn't normal, it turned into this weird bulbous blue thing. He sighed, and kept reeling anyway.
The fishes lower half suddenly looked at him and dropped off, falling into the water, leaving a normal, if slightly small and inedible, looking fish. "That was weird, but... At least its a start." He reached down to grab some more bait, and touched something wet and fluffy, recoiling quickly. "What the fu-" He looked down, seeing the weird blue thing that had been hanging off the fish. "Oh."
The weird blue thing stared at him. It just sat there, staring at him. Atticus assumed it was a pokemon, seeing as how it looked like a seal, but was a fat ball. And blue. Neither of those which were commonplace among normal seals. "Gimme back the fish, or gimme the sandwich." "What." "I said. Give me the fish. Or give me the sandwich." The little fat seal thing glared at him. "Uhh no." Atticus reached to grab the sandwich for more bait, and the seal thing lunged forward and snapped at his hand.
Atticus pulled his hand back, slightly shocked. Did that thing just try to bite him. Fine, it could have the fucking fish. He went to unhook the fish, but stopped, a worried expression on his face. The fish was thin, and had almost no meat on it, patches of its scales having fallen off. Atticus didn't know much about fish, but this thing didn't look healthy. Fuck.
"Fine, you can have the fucking sandwich." He took the fish off of the hook, and threw it back in the water, the thing was probably poisonous anyway. "So, how long do I have left, I assume you are keeping meticulous count of the time?"
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Post by Madeline "Madd" McKenna on Jun 2, 2014 10:45:15 GMT -5
Dust coated the shelves, in some spaces, about half-an-inch thick. Constant dusting, using rags and feathers, seemed to do little against the tide. The rabbits of dander and dead skin insisted on reemerging quickly, Her boss, with fifty year old bowling shirts, likely brought the annoying bastards hopping in—it was uncertain whether he enjoyed or despised bathing. Madeline, for all her bulging muscles, had a sensitive nose. Her home growing up, due to her father’s overwhelming need for everything to be just so, had been spotless. Eating off the floors would have likely been more sterile than dining in any operating room in the world.
The shed was not. It was old. The paint was likely leaden. It was infested with termites and other disgusting things. Dirt, worm guts, and the smell of dead fish permeated the place. Filthy fishing boots ruined any work each and every time the place was swept. Besides, though she did it anyway, she always felt bad smoking where the old guy sat. His wife had died of lung cancer ust a few years ago—he hated cigarettes. Instead of dealing with her less than preferable locale, the disgusting workplace that crawled with Tetanus, the redhead decided to follow him out. The old guys going to the shop won’ t even be halfway there by the time I make it inside, clean everything, and dust. Would she likely have another customer like Jim Atticus today? No. Thank the bastard gods. She didn’t remember any specific names—she had never liked Arceus too much.
“I am not following you. I am walking to the lake and watching you. Yakuza got here first, so he’s following you.” The perfecty white, or once perfectly white, Pokemon just growled. Shaking ferociously, sending dust flying (earrings making noises), he gave a hmph. Claws twitched—he could bite those big boys right into her thigh. It’d really hurt her snobby little ass. Nah, she pays the bills. She’s not too damn bad. A new cigarette smoldered in her mouth. A shrug. “Besides, I want to get out of that place for a while—I can’t even stand up.” Pulling her uniform down, glad she could wear jeans instead of shorts, she looked out over the water. In truth? She had never tried fishing much herself; jabbing things in the mouth with a hook did not appeal.
Shaking her hands, and her head, she tried to get the muck off of her. “Ugh.” Her father had not let his daughter be anything but clean growing up—she still didn’t exactly like rolling in piss-filled pond water. Wrinkling a nose, some of it was in her mouth, the redhead just sighed. A towel from a pocket rise to wipe at her face. “It’s 80 fucking degrees asshole—besides, colds have nothing to do with temperature.” A snort. A shift. A sigh. “As princess I might decide to drown you. Watch what you’re doing!” Her cigarette, now a sodden mess, dropped to the beach with a limp little roll, puff of smoke, and the tiniest of protests. Her laughter grew when another Magikarp emerged. “Those are actually more common in the lake than normal fish—a splash attack can do a lot of damage.” Flipping her wrist ovr, lookin at the stately clock face made of brown leather, she shrugged. Five minutes had gone by—five and a half. Her damn sandwich, now truly sandy, was ruined. Damnit. When the fish emerged, wide eyed and frightened, Madeline felt herself silently cheering Jim on. Fishing was boring; anything that brought it closer to the end, even if it happened to be the actions of this lazy asshole, was for the better. Her fists clenched when the seal thing appeared—she had never seen one of those before. “…hey, hey, don’t bite—I’ll have to report you for infection testing.” The little thing had won a place in her heart already—the asshole here deserved it. “Huh? Fish is more healthy for it you know, kid? Feeding it junk food..” She thought it might have been a Seel. “Geeze. You just bring drama on my head, kid.” The dead fish, as it had been crushed, remained on top of the water. “Great, now the spoiled thing gets both. And I can explain death to swimming kids.” Guts flew from its middle.
“You now have ten minutes and two—one—second.” Shrugging, staring at the overweight Spheal, the redhead grinned. “ I’ll ask him to come home with me if you don’t want him—at least I have my own sandwiches.” Lifting coppery eyes, staring at the door, she sighed. A bag of bait was tossed in front of Jim as if by accident—it was funny to watch him. She wasn’t anxious to go back to work. It wasn’t like anyone cared—she was tempted to grab her own pole. It was fun to throw it around--even if she didn't want to catch anything.
(Please do not respond for at least 24 hours. Thank you! : D)
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Post by Deleted on Jun 8, 2014 13:11:03 GMT -5
Atticus smirked and shook his head. "And if you were a Princess, I would ignore you because I do not believe in Monarchies." He watched the fat little ball thing ravenously tearing into the sandwich, shaking his head softly."Though, that would certainly be a rather large if, I've never heard of a Princess working at a shithole like that." He motioned to the store. He couldn't believe his luck. First he had to deal with this chick, then the first fish he finds looks deadly, and has this fat fucking ball hanging from it. His face shifted from its normal asshole smirk to a weary expression. Like he had expected anything else.
The Spheal looked up from his sandwich when he heard the girl talk. "That's weird, I didn't remember asking you to take me home. Nor did I say I wanted to. So how about you keep your mitts off of me and go fu-" The spheals ranting turned into continuous muffled noises as Atticus covered its mouth. "Mph hmph hmm phmph..." He stopped talking, and glared at Atticus. "You done yet?" The Spheal nodded, and Atticus took his hand away. "And then you can take that rod and-" Atticus quickly covered its mouth again, groaning. "I would pay you to take it, but as we both know, I have no money left."
His eyes widened, and he let out a loud, resounding "FUCK!" and pulled his hand away, glaring at the Spheal. "You fucking bit me. If you had drawn blood, I would have punted you back into the lake." The Spheal pouted, and looked down. "You deserved it." "How!" "You said you were going to sell me off!" "Well you're an annoying asshole!" "So are you!" Atticus opened his mouth, and closed it again, frowning, before relenting, sighing. "Touche."
He looked back to the girl, and shrugged. "Sorry Princess, it looks like it wants to stay with me, maybe you should go and get your rod and fish one up for yourself. I mean, seeing as you were criticizing me, you must have much better technique right? And if someone with technique as bad as mine could catch this thing, you should be able to catch like five of them, right?" The Spheal laughed, and went back to eating what was left of the sandwich, eyeing up the beaverthings portion.
Atticus looked at the bag that appeared in front of him, before hooking some bait onto the hook. "Hey, can I have the Bidoofs sandwich?" "No, you- wait, what the fuck is a Bidoof?" "You know, the beaver looking thing." "Oh. That's what it's called?" He looked curiously at the Bidoof. "Hey. Doof. Eat your sandwich." The Bidoof looked at him happily, responding with a "Doof doof doof" before chowing down on his sandwich part.
Atticus laughed, and took a cigarette out, putting it in his mouth and lighting it. He looked down, and saw the soggy mess of what was left of her cigarette, and felt a slight twinge of guilt. "Your smoke seems to be slightly less smokey than normal, would you like another one?" He pulled a cigarette out, and offered it to her, a small fire appearing on his finger to light it for her. He leaned against the tree, staring out over the lake. "Sorry for splashing you, by the way. No smoke deserves that."
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Post by Madeline "Madd" McKenna on Jun 12, 2014 22:17:24 GMT -5
The nickname from the asshole had quickly began to rub her the wrong way. Her father had called her that once— Princess. It brought to mind images of a tortured, bored, controlled, and puppet-like little girl; her entire world consisted of expensive dresses, silk, ruffles, dolls, and intolerable playdates. Ignoring her? Was that what you did to things you didn’t believe in? “What about constitutional monarchies?” A snort followed—it helped wipe away the stench of the word princess. Little girls in pink dresses most certainly did not sound like Emboar. “Ignoring things you dislike is real mature though—really.” Sarcasm dripped from her voice like torrential rain in a monsoon. She lifted her head to look at the shed. “It isn’t so bad really—I quite like the color of rust. And no, Daddy doesn’t appreciate it, I bet. So the King would disown me.” Her father would hate her working tere. Madeline was drove onward by that thought alone. The thought of him being king of anything, including his own home, made her stomach recoil with disgust. A ball of blue fat struck her as a decent Pokemon. Maybe she did occasionally enjoy the embrace of adorable little animals. This one seemed to be a guy after her Linoone’s heart. The weasel, who an hour ago had screamed far worse insults at his trainer, stepped forward with a protective growl and twitch of machete-like claws. “You watch your goddamned mouth there tubby—“ Orange eyes narrowed as she waved off the protective urge—she wasn’t a weak little princess after all. “I guess you didn’t. I just thought it might be a better offer than bony fish and algae bites.” She supposed seals liked that sort of thing. His continued nonsense just drew a pair of rolled eyes—she really wasn’t into shovng fishing rods in dark places. “I know. I don’t want your money—I’m just a nice gu—“ A pause—that wasn’t quite right. “Gal.” His yelp of pain drew laughter from the Linoone. It drew an exasperated sigh from his trainer. “Geeze. Now you probably have rabies.” She didn’t have any shots for that lying around the shop. “It didn’t draw blood? Why did you just scream then—wuss?” Little scars dotted the back and fronts of her hand from tousling with the large rodent beside her. “Besides, the seal is right—sellign them isn’t quite legal anymore.” Listening to the bickering, deciding the pair were perfect for one another, she took a step back. Coppery gaze flickered back down to her wrist watch-she would just add a minute or two. “Hmph. I suppose I might try later—but you scared everything off.” Besides, as she already had one loud-mouthed as on her team, the redhead did not feel she needed five of them. “I was just trying to help.” Fingers rose to toy with her nametag. Even she knew what a Bidoof was! Her mother spent all her time using her Bibarel to run the silly things out of the garden and the fountains. “It’s my sandwich actually, dick-weed.” Madeline refused the urge to glare at the Spheal. Some overweight rodent couldn’t control her in the slightest—she didn’t cave to demands. Sighing, glad at least one person appreciated her cooking, the woman ran short-nailed fingers through her curls. “Enjoy that, little man.” She waved at the beaver as her Linoone, icy eyes full of fire, growled at the Spheal again—it was about the fiftieth time. How many cigarettes did she have left? Three or four? Two or three now. “I would love another one—“ It helps me deal with idiots like yourself. Fingers reached out for the stick of nicotine, death, and rebellion. “Thank you, kid.” She took a deep drag. “So, are you done with the pole or what?” He seemed more interesting in talking to overweight sea creatures than fishing. Honestly, if she had been starving, she would have just eaten the sandwich. Then again, what was the phrase, teach a man to fish? She doubted this brat learned very well. “Smokes aren’t bad.” That was actually surprising---little wonder he had no money for food. “It’s fine. Fishing is a dirty business.” It was. (Please wait at least 48 hours before responding.) @tagged
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