Entries tagged with content: fluff

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With no discernible reason as to how or why, the whole of Team Rocket is now living together in a cozy Japanese-style house (yes, there is a kotatsu). ...Either this is a Tardis house and bigger on the inside than the out, or disbanding that first time left them with that few members. Either way. One big villainous family.

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All Team Rocket members are welcome. And obviously Silvers are allowed in too — anyone who tries to lock the heir out in the garden will be put on toilet-cleaning duty by the boss.

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Commence fights over the TV remote, who stole your pot of Slowpoketail jelly from the fridge, whose turn it is to clean the bathroom, etcetera. Let there be brawl! (Or, you know, you could try to get along with each other like good criminal siblings). Take the shenanigans out of the house if you want, as long as they're domestic-related — take a shopping trip or something. Tag around, thread-jack (ask nicely first!), go nuts.

[It hasn't been the best day for Clarissa. After (bitching, whining, confining herself to the overnight room for hours instead of working) complaining of feeling exhausted and achy all day, she had decided enough was enough. As forcefully as one can be when they feel like the inside of their head has been packed-tight with cotton-wool, she had pawned-off her remaining paperwork onto the displeased grunts, before finally grabbing her things and leaving the base early.

A short while later, she is standing not outside her own front door, but Lance's. Her apartment would have been much easier to return to, but for some reason Clarissa is here instead. ...She just felt like it, okay? It's not like she wanted to see him that badly that she'd even drag herself all the way here when she's sick or anything, gosh. She hits the buzzer, not having the energy to rudely assault the door today (the only time Clarissa acts like a rational person is when something is wrong), before standing there swaying as she waits for Lance to answer, eyes screwed shut and knocking her palm against her forehead as if that will somehow dislodge the dull, heavy pain out of her head.]

Our house, in the middle of our street

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Because these two need more snarky-adorable moments in their lives