petreleum-blog

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Petrel leaned against the wall next to Proton, idly resting his chin on his palm. It looked like it was going to be one of those days.

"Always? That's a little melodramatic, don't you think?" 

Proton continued with his intense frown, eyes narrowing. Nothing was really wrong, he was just being Proton and his usual PMS self— although today happened to be just a little worse than the rest.

“I’m fine, Petrel,” He spat out, looking up towards the other. “The only thing wrong is the fact that you always have to find a way to insult me. And I’m getting tired of it.”

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"I know you're in Team Rocket, but I still think you're a pretty cool guy! I mean, your hair's purple which automatically makes you cooler than you actually are! So have an awesome Christmas, okay?" 

"Cute. Thanks kid."

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“hueuheuehuahe”

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Petrel gave Gold a sort of blank look. Plans? Involving Silver? Well, frankly he had no idea what this kid was talking about. Unless... did Silver tell him about those pranks Petrel would play at his expense? Chili powder in hot chocolate was a rather cruel and unusual act, no wonder Gold was so mad.

"I guess I better count myself as fortunate then, huh?" He stared down at Gold, giving him a smirk. "I heard that the lake is especially cold this time of the year, wouldn't want to catch pneumonia."

He had no idea why this guy was so casual, it was making his blood boil but he wasn’t going to let himself flip his lid. “You’re lucky I’m a nice guy or I would have tossed you in the Lake of Rage already”

Gold was not going to forgive him for what he did to Silver, he knew it wasn’t his battle, but then again when did Gold care about that. “You people make me sick, all of you, if you go near Silver again with some kind of half assed plan like that again I’m not going to be Mr  nice guy anymore” Lyra had said Proton was an okay guy, so he’d give Petrel the tiniest of chances but it was a thin line.

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GOLDENEYED-DREAMER SAID: -HE MADE A SOUR FACE, LEANING ON HIS CUE- SHUT UP YOU ARCEUS DAMN BASTARD. I HAVE A BONE TO PICK WITH YOU -GROWLS A LITTLE

"You don't have to tell me twice."

"What's up?"

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-stares at him angrily, biting his cheek. He wanted to say something, but he wasn't sure what...-

Yo, long time no see eh?

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lavender-hair-dont-care: "Ohhh, scandalous, aren't we~?" ;3

"Uh, sure."

fucking-lyra-bitch: "... I don't get it either Petreldactyl."

"Oh well, I guess we'll just miss out."

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id love to master your disguise of you get what im saying' ;)

"No clue, actually."

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ポケモン落書き・まんが（RSE/HGSS/Pt） | けむし [pixiv] (p.8)

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ポケモン落書き詰め | 雀茶 [pixiv] (p.15)

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Petrel already had a small pile of shards in the palm of his hand by the time Erika came back. Hey, he was wearing gloves; why not take a walk on the wild side? Lord knows that picking up glass was the most dangerous thing he had gotten to do all week. He gave her an acknowledging nod and deposited the pieces into the dustpan, then took the little broom into his free hand. Now he could do a more thorough clean-up.

Quietly, he began running the broom’s bristles through the puddle, combing for any bits that he may have missed. That vase sure did shatter magnificently, if Petrel did say so himself. It would’ve made a great Instagram picture for some tortured-soul teenager. What a missed opportunity. He grabbed the towel and began mopping up the small pond on the floor. 

Erika’s voice brought back Petrel’s attention. Setting the sopping wet towel aside, he peered into her tea box. “You’ve sure got some selection,” he mused, taking in all his options. There was definitely no shortage of variety; he hadn’t even heard of half of these. He bit back a snort at “passion”. What sort of things did this gym leader get up to in her free time? 

“I don’t know much about flowers, to be frank.” He shrugged, smiling a crooked smile. Honestly there wasn’t anything that particularly leapt out at him, and he would’ve been fine with any of the available options— actually, come to think of it, some kind of soothing mix would be nice; it looked like his back pain was going to be particularly annoying tonight.

“Do you have any sort of pain-relieving petunia, or equally as effective alternative?”

Illicit Interests || Petrel & Erika

“O-Oh,” Erika stammered, stopping when Petrel stooped down next to her, “Thank you.” Up close, she could smell the cigarette smoke that clung to his clothes and skin. Only ever being exposed to perfume and flowers and sunshine, the scent was acrid in comparison. Unnerved, Erika quickly retreated, but the smell still stuck to the back of her throat. 

The harsh scent wasn’t unwelcome, though. It was different, and that intrigued her. 

Quickly she busied herself with prepping the stove (after bandaging the war wound on the tip of her finger, of course). Once the kettle was sitting on the burner, Erika handed a dust pan and brush (as well as a towel) to Petrel, sheepish expression grateful. 

She turned back to the stove, adjusting the temperature minutely, before reaching into a cupbord and pulling out a wooden box. “Um, what kind of tea do you prefer?” Erika asked, opening the box’s hinged lid for Petrel to inspect. 

The box was arranged into small, square sections. But rather than standard teabags or even loose-leaf tea, each section held bundles of tea leaves wrapped so tightly they were like little stones. The sections were labeled in precise, flowing script that gave the type of tea and a little extra: Green - happiness. Oolong - longevity. Orange Blossom - passion. Black - good morning. Etc. etc. 

“Erm,” Erika said awkwardly, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, “I apologize, I don’t have any… normal types of tea. They’re all flowering teas— though I suppose that is to be expected.” She laughed a bit, glancing around at her rainforest of a home. With some pride Erika smiled. “I make them all myself.”

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Do I need references? I'd hate to show up unprepared.

Woah. Where can I sign up? 

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Woah. Where can I sign up? 

petreleum replied to your post: Who do I have to chat up to get a group of guys to…

Does it pay by the hour?

Commission, more likely. And it wouldn’t be actual real currency; it’d be little pink bills emblazoned with smiling totodiles and vague inspirational phrases like “You’ve done it, Sport!” and “Your effort matters!”

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"If looks could kill." Petrel raised an eyebrow and rested his hands on his hips.

"You sort of just dropped a grenade and ran, man." Not that was unusual for Proton or anything; were this a battlefield that would probably be his whole strategy. Though, this past explosion sprayed a little more emotional flak than the usual bombing runs. 

"What awful event soured your day this time? Did you forget to check the date before you poured milk in your morning coffee?"

The executive continued mumbling incomprehensible things to himself as he walked away in anger. It was something he was used to doing, considering that it was apart of his daily routine. Typical Proton.

He sighed at the other calling his name and turned his head slightly, staring at Petrel with that harsh glare of his he wore all too often. “What?” He practically spat out.

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ポケモン落書き詰め | 雀茶 [pixiv] (p.20)

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"..."

Petrel blinked, a small frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. Well, that certainly escalated quickly. Without a word he bent over to retrieve his tossed makeup, though he figure he didn't have much reason to; the inside was probably wrecked after that little tantrum. He held it up to the light, squinting at the pencil tip. Yep, it was definitely ruined. That was alright though, seafoam green never really was a necessity. He shrugged and slipped it into his utility belt, making a mental note to buy color SPE908 next time he was in town. That thought was quickly discarded though, there were more pressing issues at hand.

"Hey, Proton! Slow down there bud!"

Proton scowled, an exaggerated expression of disgust taking over his features. “Why would I want your help? All you ever help me with half the time is making a fool of myself and I’m getting tired of it!!” He shouted.

After that little outburst, he stood a moment, watching the other. His harsh look soon faded as he pursed his lips. Quietly, he lowered his head and mumbled something before reaching into his pocket and pulling out the eyeliner pencil he had stolen a few hours before. The executive held his arm out to give it to the other, but before they could take it, he threw it towards them and sulked off.

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"You're right, you have more of a circular thing going on. I like it. You look like one of 'em old cartoon characters."

petreleum replied to your post: “Woah, I’m diggin’ the look you have going on, chica.”

“Yeah! Were you going for a retro angle? ‘cause you’ve nailed it.”

“Excuse me… I have no intention of this angle.”