"Wait, yer tellin' me y' decided, outta nowhere, t' restart th' spork NOW?" the sandy-haired adolescent complains, abruptly dumped into the sporking room.

Yep.

"We did get over a month off," his magenta-haired companion points out, dusting herself off as she rises from the floor.

"Too bad! Look at th' Little Miss Mary sporkers! Now there's a spork ( Read more... )

( ...I'm sorry. Why am I sporking this? Why am I - when it's sporking ITSELF?! )

( In which the Team Rocket-worship reaches a whole NEW level of WTH. )

( TRIGGER WARNING: Emotional abuse, condescending subvariety. And screw it, I don't care if that's on the sainted list of Legitimate Triggers, I AM CALLING IT A TRIGGER. ...Also, see if you can guess how high the 'SHITLOAD OF CURSING' count goes in THIS section! :D )

(Dreamwidth posts have been split into two for the sake of LJ's delicate character-limits.)

With our sporkers recovered, we now head into the next part...
( Our Heroes must tensely prepare themselves for rejection and - IT'S A CORI FALLS FIC, WHO AM I KIDDING. )

A magenta-haired teenager throws up her hands. "You have to be kidding me! It's been months!"
Looking bored, her sandy-haired companion taps his fingers on the desk in front of them. "Don'tcha think yer too old fer this stuff?"

Nope.

ONE FOR THE MONEY! 
TWO FOR THE SHOW!
THREE TO GET READY!
AND HERE! WE! GO!
( Beautiful love that is beautifully lovely and beautiful and - aaaaaah, screw it. )

( In which it... isn't all a dream. Blast. )