cleaning up the lighthouse.

i used to dream in the dark of palisades park

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cleaning up the lighthouse.
POSTED ON Jul 7, 2019 16:54:25 GMT
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[attr="class","berk"]
Rangers got interesting missions. Sometimes protect, sometimes clean, sometimes organize. Currently, Berke was making himself useful by cleaning up and organizing the Lighthouse's storage room. Hopefully he'd find some items he could keep for himself, but he wasn't incredibly hopeful for that turn out.

The pay itself would be enough. Then he could really get some gachas rolling, which he was learning as he watched others roll, was a hell of a lot more fun than he even realized.

His hair was pulled back as much as it could be, an apron tied around his torso, a pair of jeans, a t-shirt, and some decent boots so that he didn't injure his toes by wearing the slid on sandals he'd wanted to wear.

With a huff from Berkeley, dust flew off of the boxes he was moving. He set it down, brushed it off, then opened it to start rummaging through and placing items in organized piles so that he could get them placed where they needed to be.

He'd gotten to the lighthouse earlier than the other who had apparently taken the task with him. He wondered if he'd recognize whoever it was... likely not, but, who knew? Maybe he'd get lucky.

OPEN TO ANYONE
JK TOOK IT

[newclass=.berk] margin-top:10px; [/newclass][newclass=.berk b]color:#4D72A0;font-weight:lighter;[/newclass][newclass=.berk i]color:#4D72A0;[/newclass][newclass=.berk a]color:#4D72A0;text-transform:uppercase!important;[/newclass]
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Ven

Lars
he / him / his
thirty-two
july 26
Sootopolis, Hoenn
don’t know, don’t care
ranger & courier
ex-head ranger
tonight
is gonna be the loneliest
1210 height
1210 height
nessuno vince.
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Laurence Anderson
cleaning up the lighthouse.
POSTED ON Jul 9, 2019 21:11:37 GMT
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[attr="class","lars"]
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@berke

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oh man.

He was still leery being around Slateport.

How in the hell did Rocket just—disappear off the map? Was there something he didn’t know, were there signs he failed to notice? Now that the port city was open again, he had a feeling that… well, something wasn’t sitting right. Like there was something waiting in the darkness, to swallow them all and lure them into a trap.

Call it intuition, or paranoia, or maybe just overthinking, but he was still ever so wary of the turns and the corners of the city. While it didn’t look its best, he was still—rather insecure about what would go down if the League overstayed their welcome.

But anyway.

Now that the ‘scourge’ was gone it was time to clean up the mess that they’d made.

And boy, what a huge fucking mess Slateport had become during the time the League had been forced to stay away from it while Rocket—or rather, what was left of them had run the place.

One of the places that needed extensive cleaning was the Lighthouse, and so he came in, swooping down on the back of his Flygon and taking a rather bumpy landing a few moments later. Once he’d recalled the Flygon to rest, he looks up at what used to be the stark-white exterior of the place, and can only sigh.

How long was this day going to be?

He then tore his gaze away from the heavily-graffiti’d exterior and saw he wasn’t alone.

Oh? It was one of the newer Rangers.

“Can’t find shit to do, huh,” he says in greeting to the other.



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POSTED ON Jul 10, 2019 1:27:19 GMT
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[attr="class","berk"]
"Hm?" Something like a bumpy landing on the Lighthouse caught Berkeley's attention. A small blinking of his eyes and Berkeley was curiously turning to see who entered the Lighthouse after him. The spikey hair gave the Elite Ranger away. He'd heard rumors from the other Rangers about Lars Anderson. Apparently he liked 'Lars' better as a name than his full name. But for now, Berkeley would just keep to politeness. As polite as he could manage, anyway.

"Wow! Mr. Anderson himself. An elite ranger coming in to clean up a mess like this-" Berkeley interrupted himself with a small snort, having to cover right under his nose to hold in his laughter. "I'm not sure if it's admirable, or comical."

No, he didn't know how not to speak his mind. It's fine.

"Either way, I'm happy for the help. And I've made pretty good progress. So far I've got some piles. 'Throw away,' 'maybe keep for decorating,' 'relics to definitely keep for decorating,' 'random things that might be valuable,' 'more throw away...'"


[newclass=.berk] margin-top:10px; [/newclass][newclass=.berk b]color:#4D72A0;font-weight:lighter;[/newclass][newclass=.berk i]color:#4D72A0;[/newclass][newclass=.berk a]color:#4D72A0;text-transform:uppercase!important;[/newclass]
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Ven

Lars
he / him / his
thirty-two
july 26
Sootopolis, Hoenn
don’t know, don’t care
ranger & courier
ex-head ranger
tonight
is gonna be the loneliest
1210 height
1210 height
nessuno vince.
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3,788 posts
part of
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Laurence Anderson
cleaning up the lighthouse.
POSTED ON Jul 10, 2019 19:38:31 GMT
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[attr="class","lars"]
pokemon



tag
@berke

words
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notes
ayy

“They can’t be assed to harass the other League members who are nearby, just so happened I was the closest, he begins, explaining the reason why he was sent all the way out here. Right into the Pyroar’s Den, so to speak.

Even as he came in for an aerial landing around Slateport, the heavy signs of graffiti and damage were clearly visible from above, and it was just now that the League were starting to pick up and clean out the pieces once again.

It’s at this point his eyebrows slowly go up—he doesn’t know whether he’s joking, or completely serious as his companion rattles off the list of junk—to nobody’s surprise there’s a lot of items on it—and he lets the other one go on until he quiets down.

Basically. Just 2 big piles. One for keeping, and one for recycling. Wait—make that three. There might still be some evidence left of Rocket activity in the junk we can find out here,” he corrects the other, hoping that they would be fine with doing that in the meantime.

Because who knew if the Rockets had used the lighthouse as a storage facility for some of their more ‘valuable’ junk that they may have forgotten to move out when they were exposed and ‘disbanded’.

But Lars is still leery about them just suddenly disappearing into thin air—or was it into the shadows? He could never tell.

“Anyway. Have you spotted anything that may look important in these trash heaps?” he continues, unballing his Metagross and watching calmly as Ro unfolds himself to his full size, hitting the ground with a thud that causes where they stand to shake a little.

“He can help lift the heavy loads. We’ll be fine.”



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POSTED ON Jul 10, 2019 19:48:41 GMT
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The Metagross doesn't really startle Berke. As a matter of fact, he couldn't help how he smiled and moved a hand to touch the cold steel body of the Metagross.

"I've missed that..." for a moment, Berkeley lost himself in a memory. Once he realized he'd dazed off, he looked at Lars and gave a warm smile. "He's fine." Which meant, Berkeley didn't mind the Metagross being there.

"Three piles sounds a lot less complicated... I'll admit, I've never had to clean anything out before. So I wasn't sure how to approach it." Berkeley was already working on arranging things into the piles Lars suggested.

"It's a good thing you're here or this would have taken forever!"



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Ven

Lars
he / him / his
thirty-two
july 26
Sootopolis, Hoenn
don’t know, don’t care
ranger & courier
ex-head ranger
tonight
is gonna be the loneliest
1210 height
1210 height
nessuno vince.
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3,788 posts
part of
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Laurence Anderson
cleaning up the lighthouse.
POSTED ON Jul 10, 2019 22:25:18 GMT
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[attr="class","lars"]
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oboi

The Metagross looks quietly at the other, calculating eyes focusing on the other Ranger for a few moments. Luckily Ro wasn’t the kind who would just buck up and lash out, or shy away from another’s touch.

A little humming ‘noise’ escaped the Metagross, and to Lars’s ears, he knew what it meant.

“He thinks you’re maybe a bit of a scatterbrain,” he says absently, turning his attention to the piles upon piles, upon Arceus-damned piles of junk that lay before them. “Is this all of the junk? Or am I being too optimistic?”

Either way, he rolls up the sleeves of his coat and begins helping the Metagross move some of the other things into the three piles that they were going to end up with by the end of the day: the recyclables, the salvageables, and surprisingly the ‘evidence’ pile.

He began to move, lifting up boxes that had nothing but files within them. Pawing through some of them, he sought to read them, but fuck, why were they all so Arceus-damned useless?!

“What the hell is with all this junk? Spam mail?” he says with a snort, dropping one of the boxes he has in his hands onto the ‘recyclables’ pile.

There’s a lot of junk around here, and he knows it.

“How much is left inside the light house?” he calls out a few moments later, making a dent and finally getting some of the smaller thigs organized into their bigger respective piles. And then there was the matter of cleaning up the light house—wait, were they going to be scrubbing all the graffiti off it, too?

What the hell was this, cheap labor for almost nothing?

The fuck.



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POSTED ON Jul 10, 2019 23:33:01 GMT
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So far Berke had learned that people tended to treat the lighthouse like the attic of the beach, and that Lars Anderson certainly knew how to complain. It was possibly the most comical thing about the mission thus far. Surprisingly, Berke had not had the heart to complain. He was a lower ranking Ranger though, and didn't have much else to do with his life other than do the bidding of whoever told him what.

Being a Ranger, so far, was a decent amount of fun. He liked it.

"Everything in there's organized and--" Berkeley stopped himself for a moment before letting out a chortle at Lars. "We're almost done, Lars, take a deep breath."

Then, without warning, Berkeley leaned in close to Lars, close enough their noses could be touching. He narrowed his eyes in thought, looking from one of Lars' eyes to the other. "You know, there's an herb blend you can put into that pipe of yours that'll help calm your nerves. They also sell oils, if you're not interested in puffing the stuff. They work wonders."



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Ven

Lars
he / him / his
thirty-two
july 26
Sootopolis, Hoenn
don’t know, don’t care
ranger & courier
ex-head ranger
tonight
is gonna be the loneliest
1210 height
1210 height
nessuno vince.
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3,788 posts
part of
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Laurence Anderson
cleaning up the lighthouse.
POSTED ON Jul 11, 2019 2:58:50 GMT
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[attr="class","lars"]
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AYY

“I have never been this messy or disorganized, let me tell you,” he grumbled presently, helping Ro the Metagross move some boxes of books that had been displaced in the shift of moving a lot of things towards the ‘recyclables’ pile, which was now becoming something like a small mountain.

The ‘salvageable’ pile was far smaller, but at least it contained some useful things that could be repaired and craft-store slapped together to work like new. A little elbow grease would be needed, too. But for the most part, it was boxes upon boxes, upon Arceus-fucking boxes of… holy shit.

“What in the ever-loving fuck?” Lars grumbles as he takes a look at the current box he’s carrying and very nearly drops it on his own foot, because he’d seen some rather unscrupulous magazines inside them. For some strange, weird, unfathomable reason they all featured pictures of naked young women with their feet particularly angled to be seen in the photo.

“…this is fucking gross,” he mutters, hoping that he could incinerate this particular pile because whoa, who the hell had an eye for these kinds of things?! He found it absolutely… disturbing, to say the least.

Then, without warning, he finds himself almost face-to-face with his companion, their noses practically tickling each others’ at this point in time.

“L—look, if you know where I can find a consistent supply of… of vanilla-flavored leaves, then I would be eternally grateful,” he says quietly. He’s unable to look the other in the eye, for some unfathomable reason…



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POSTED ON Jul 12, 2019 18:00:38 GMT
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Confusion riddled Berkeley's expression until he looked down. Then he saw... a stach. Of, things. That were not safe for work.

"Oh... wow." Berkeley couldn't stop himself from moving to finger through the collection for a second. "At least they had good taste, and they didn't discriminate. Do you think they were bi, or pansexual?"

No, it didn't matter, but Berkeley was the curious type, and now everything about cleaning the lighthouse had escaped his brain and he was focusing instead on the 'treasure' they'd found.



[newclass=.berk] margin-top:10px; [/newclass][newclass=.berk b]color:#4D72A0;font-weight:lighter;[/newclass][newclass=.berk i]color:#4D72A0;[/newclass][newclass=.berk a]color:#4D72A0;text-transform:uppercase!important;[/newclass]
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played by

Ven

Lars
he / him / his
thirty-two
july 26
Sootopolis, Hoenn
don’t know, don’t care
ranger & courier
ex-head ranger
tonight
is gonna be the loneliest
1210 height
1210 height
nessuno vince.
awards
3,788 posts
part of
TAG WITH @lars
Laurence Anderson
cleaning up the lighthouse.
POSTED ON Jul 30, 2019 15:53:29 GMT
Laurence Anderson Avatar
[attr="class","lars"]
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@berke

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and the lighthouse is clean! I HOPE?!

“I have no idea and I have no intention of finding out, this is really…damn, this has to be taken care of right away,” Lars mutters. He had a far less appreciative eye for these kinds of things, and all he knew was that they had to get rid of it as quickly as possible!

“Are you going to keep it, or something? Because if you’re not, you know which pile it goes to,” he adds with a gesture towards the ‘junk’ pile—or wait, maybe that could go towards one of the more discreet piles of trash they were clearing out. He was a little more than dismayed to see that the pile of ‘evidence’ was so small, and the other piles were rather alarming in size.

Letting out a sigh, he then went back inside and retrieved the last of a series of boxes, shoving them out as best as he could manage without the help of his Metagross—who’d just emerged and was carrying a small pile of what looked to be spare motorbike parts.

“Ro. Don’t put that in any of the piles… I want to take it for myself and see if it still works,” he says to the Metagross, who lets out a grating noise and settles it down some distance away from the three ‘main piles’ that they were trying to clear out.

Taking a look at the handiwork they’d done so far, he wiped his forehead with the back of his hand.

“Well, that’s done. Mostly. I pity the wretches who have to repaint the outside of the lighthouse…” he says with a sigh as he looks up at it and sees that the place is still a bastion of external graffiti, multicolored words and abstract designs drawn all over what used to be a stark-white exterior.



[newclass=".lars"] [/newclass]