Heather Mason
07 June 2016 @ 02:02 am


"Yo, it's Heather. I'm probably asleep or one of the Pokemon ate my 'Gear or something so I can't answer you right now. But feel free to leave a message or something.
I'll probably get back to you. ... Probably. Peace out."


[Need to send Heather a private message, or start up any other thread that doesn't need a log or post of its own? Tag here with the date of the interaction in the subject line!]

[(NOTE: The old contact post containing all threads from Route 29 can be found here!)]
Heather Mason
02 December 2012 @ 05:51 pm

[Since the whole thing on the weekend that they all remember now.]

[In those few days, Heather has been holed up in her hotel room like a dysfunctional pop star hiding from the paparazzi. What's she been doing in there? GOD ONLY KNOWS. Actually, the people IN that hotel room know and it's mostly being quiet and sleeping a lot, but there you go.]

[BUT LO AND BEHOLD: a text!]

[A text with a request.]


I have a mission for all of you

send me funny shit

any funny shit

I don't care if it's a joke or a story about the time your drunk uncle bill mistook your annoying aunt sally's drink for a spitoon or a video of that fat Meowrth that likes to get in boxes i forget his name it's like Maroo or something

1 2 3 GO
Yo, this is where I'm at: Saffron City hotel
I'm feeling: indescribable
Heather Mason
26 May 2012 @ 12:51 am
[If anyone stops to check their 'Gear in the midst of all the chaos unfolding, they will find an extremely odd text message originating from the 'Gear of Heather Mason.]

[Or more accurately, it's the image attachment that's odd.]

[Apparently, some nurses have stolen Heather's PokeGear and are using it to take Myspace pictures.]


[ooc: Feel free to tag in with any scenario or character you want, it doesn't necessarily have to involve the text message, the nurses, or their godawful duckfaces! GO WILD, just let me know where you want the thread to take place!]
Heather Mason
23 May 2012 @ 12:58 pm
[Well, THAT had been fun.]

[After over a week, lots of bad weather, a few waterlogged hugs and a whole lot of flying, Heather's finally back on Cianwood, with a nurse, a mysterious young woman, a bird-obsessionist, and a magician-thief in tow.]

[She's exhausted and wants nothing more to just faceplant on the bed and let her father play host to the new additions to the 'family' (and the one returning member) for awhile... but as usual, something's come up.]

[The feed comes on from above-- she's flopped on her back on one of the hotel room's beds, hair still curly and wet from the shower she spent at least forty-five minutes in after arriving back on the island. She'd had to use an unoccupied hotel room (with Arty guarding the door to make sure no unsuspecting guest walked in on her) to do it on account of the fact that she'd been accompanied by four equally tired and dirty people who ALSO needed showers.]

[She picks tiredly at one eye, the camera wobbling above her on account of being held up with just one hand.]


Yeah, I uh... was totally planning on visiting some people on the way home, but... yeah.

All that weather sort of sucked all the sociability out of everybody. Sorry, Cliff. Wish I'd made it.

[YEAH, she's spoiling the surprise, but hey, she can always drop in on him and Ironhide later, assuming no giant storms pop right the fuck out of nowhere like last week. Ugh.]

But anyway, back safe and sound, nobody died, the world's still turning, chocolate and peanut butter are still an awesome combination, life goes on. Hope nobody got too battered during all that crazy apocalyptic weather.

[And around this point is where she'd usually turn the camera off (and maybe she intended to but is just so damn tired it slipped her mind) but the screen blurs as she rolls over, propping herself up on her elbows and resting the 'Gear against the bedspread next to her instead. Next to it are two things--]

[--a battered old medallion with red marks inscribed on it... and a piece of paper. The camera's gaze only lingers on it for a second or two, but quick readers might be able to make out the words Make her suffer written in loopy handwriting before the 'Gear moves again.]

[This time, it's aimed crookedly at the side of the bed, where the somber, doberman-like face of a Houndoom is watching the off-camera Heather in silence.]


Gonna have to come up with a different name for you.

[End feed.]


[Later that night:]

Hey, Coop.

You got a minute?
I'm feeling: thoughtful
Yo, this is where I'm at: Cianwood City inn
Heather Mason
06 May 2012 @ 03:39 am
[CLOUDS ABOVE. WATER BELOW. That's what Heather is seeing when she briefly flicks on the audio feed.]

[After spending a whole lot of time trying to ensure through various means that she wouldn't meet an uncertain death trying to fly, enough time had passed and Heather couldn't hold back that classic Mason mother-hen desire to have all the eggs in one place at the same time anymore.]

[In hindsight, though, informing the two she'd gotten on the bird to actually GO SEE that she'd left... AFTER she left, was a bit of a bad decision. Turns out the roaring wind is pretty damn loud when you're that high. She has to raise her voice to be heard.]

Angela. Lisa!

Sorry for the wait. M'finally on my way.

[A pause, punctuated by the whistling wind.]

... Aaaand it'd be good if you could both tell me where you are, too. Prooobably should've asked that before I left.

[But THAT ASIDE... the video feed flicks on then, showing off a vast expanse of blue water below and fluffy clouds above, with Sunny's downy ear-tufts fluttering down towards the bottom of the screen.]

I take back any misgivings I might've had about flying before.

This... is pretty awesome.
Yo, this is where I'm at: Somewhere over the Whirl Islands
I'm feeling: rejuvenated
Heather Mason
30 March 2012 @ 09:22 pm
Okay-- OKAY, OKAY, hang on, I got it!

All right, get back.

[The sound of big reptilian feet plodding backwards through wet sand can be heard as the camera shows a wobbly view of.... Sunny the Togekiss standing on an appropriately sunny Cianwood beach. The water's lapping at the shore, the sky is bright blue, it's totally beautiful.]

[A PERFECT day to test out the new, hard-earned skill gotten from beating Chuck in a furious fist-fight (and some obligatory after-battle arm-wrestling): Fly.]

[Perched precariously on the back of the big white marshmallow-bird is Heather, kneeling and holding onto the thick white plumage with both hands. She's got a determined expression.]

Okay. Let's give it a try. I-- no, Dad, it's gonna be FINE, that's why I'm practicing on the BEACH, remember? Sand is soft!


Ready, girl?

Let's-- oh shit aw HELL--

[With some gentle but powerful WHOMPS, the Togekiss had begun to serenely flap its pillowy wings and take off. ... Without Heather, because Heather has no idea how the hell to ride a flying thing and was promptly jostled off by the wing motion.]

[Touching down again, Sunny trills and lovingly sits upon the face-down Heather like any caring bird mother might with a stupid bird baby that crash-landed after trying to fly.]

... Okay.

This could take a little practice.

Yo, this is where I'm at: Cianwood City
I'm feeling: annoyed
Heather Mason
[It's quiet.]

[In more ways than one.]

[Actually, 'quiet' is a pretty good word to describe everything over the past few days, from Heather's perspective.]

[She's been quiet. After making an angry spectacle of herself in front of everyone, she hadn't been in much of a talkative mood. The trip down Route 38 had been spent largely in solemn silence, even after Crow had joined them mid-journey-- something that practically didn't seem possible.]

[The network's been quiet. Relatively, anyway. So many previously-prolific voices had vanished. Those who were left had understandably been left to pick up the pieces of everything that had come undone and, well, it's hard to blame them for being quiet-- those ones who had lost people, anyway. God knows Heather couldn't muster the fire to keep getting angrier as word of new disappearances had continued to flow in. The moment when she had seriously considered destroying a harmless Pokemon egg and its contents had been the moment she'd burnt herself out.]

[And, perhaps the only one that's sort of comforting right now, the city is quiet. The hustle and bustle of summer is both long ago and far in the future and as such, Olivine City in February is a great deal calmer than it had been the last time Heather had been here. That's sort of good, really. They've all needed to do a lot of thinking lately.]

[It's morning-- hardly even dawn yet.]

[At first, the camera isn't even SHOWING Heather. More a very close view of the floor, and the railing at the top of the staircase leading up from the lobby of the Olivine Inn. The cameraman is probably a Pokemon, but who knows which one it is... Godzilla has long since retired from his 'Gear-stealing shenanigans and so has Butch, now that he can WOOOOOO and QUAAAAAAG at his beloved Flapper in person.]

[But whichever one it is, it carries the camera with an air of quiet determination, and once it situates itself within view of its trainer, who seems to be sitting silently by a window in the deserted lobby, it sits itself down with a rustle and zooms in.]

[Eyes shut, she almost looks asleep, except for the fact that she's absent-mindedly stroking something with one finger-- something bristly-looking and pale yellow that seems to be in the process of contentedly nuzzling its way under her chin. ... Something with four bright blue eyes not dissimilar to the odd markings on that little egg she had been threatening to crush last week.]

[The video doesn't last long. It lingers on Heather and the new Pokemon for fifteen or twenty seconds, and then shuts off. Whoever had been filming, it seemed, had no agenda outside of showing the network that, no, Heather had not gone through with her impulsive plan. Fortunately.]

[The whole time, Heather just carries on obliviously.]

[Remembering hurts... but there's nothing anybody can do to change that.]

[Half to herself and half to the creature, who doesn't seem to be aware of how close it had come to maybe NOT EVER GETTING TO HATCH, she mumbles after a few seconds.]

... Stage five. I think.

That's acceptance, right?
Yo, this is where I'm at: Olivine City
I'm feeling: resigned
Currently jammin' to: "Dawn", Poets of the Fall
Heather Mason
15 February 2012 @ 10:46 pm

[A short while after the singing wild Pokemon and egg presents had died down, a rather unfortunate discovery was made upon dialing a number she'd been meaning to dial ever since Claudia Wolf and Kaito Kuroba had disappeared from Johto.]

[Already on the road, the weather's mild enough (even with the wind picking up) that Heather decided that was pretty much a good time to pocket her Valentine's Day present and just head off for a walk. Because lord knows, she needs one.]

[It's not the first time Johto has given everyone the gift of a precious little egg, but it is the first time that Heather's found herself resenting it.]

[The video feed pops on, focused in on a tiny, pale yellow little egg hardly bigger than a chicken's, nestled in the palm of Heather's hand as dry grass goes past underfoot.]

It would be so easy to just... crush it.
Yo, this is where I'm at: Route 38
Heather Mason

[You know what makes a good alarm clock on Christmas morning? ... Besides small children? ... DOGS.]

[There was once a time when a Christmas with the Masons involved Heather using her father's bed as a trampoline. But by this point, she's more interested in sleeping in. You know, in general. But that's hard to do with Pokemon around.]

Ugh, Cooj-- have you been eating the old socks at the bottom of my bag again...?

[Shoving the Growlithe's blunt muzzle away from her face, she sits up in bed. Most of the other Pokemon (those that are out of their balls) are still asleep, but THAT DOESN'T STOP CUJO OF COURSE. He drops something slobbery in her lap and then shuffles backwards on her bed, rumpling up the blankets in the process. She flaps a hand at him, rubbing her eyes.]

C'mon, boy, you're acting like it's Christmas or someth-- ....



[She looks down at him briefly.]

... Okay, go wake up everybody else.

[Half the time what she tells him to do seems to go in one shaggy ear and out the other, but she doesn't need to tell him to do that twice. As he leaps off the bed in an explosion of happy panting, she finally turns her attention to the object he dropped in her lap.]

... My flashlight?


[Has anyone ever wanted to see live footage of somebody trying to strap one of those dog backpacks to a Growlithe that won't hold still?]

[Well, anyone checking out the network around lunchtime on Christmas Day will get to watch the Adventures of a Hapless Trainer and Her Hyperactive Dog for awhile as Heather tries unsuccessfully to get one of those things on him for about twenty minutes, outside in the snow.]

[After lots of yelling, falling down, and a brief period of getting dragged around (he's big enough to do that by this point...) she loses her grip and he eventually runs off with the damn thing half-fastened. Probably gonna lose it in a snowbank somewhere. Picking herself up, with a grumble, she takes back the PokeGear from whoever had been filming this charming home video (probably Harry or Henry) and shakes her head.]

Man, last time I get Cujo a Christmas present. Ungrateful mutt... [She looks out at the orange dot that is Cujo, clearly visible in the far-off snowy landscape, and waves dismissively.] He'll be back when I start giving treats to all the others.

ANYWAY, uh...

[Turning back to the screen, she swipes a hand under her nose briefly. It's been running in the cold.]

So, Merry Christmas, everyone!

Haven't opened all the gifts yet, but uh, thanks to everyone who sent stuff for us. ... Hope all of mine got through, I kinda mailed some of 'em last minute...

[OH WELL. Shrug. They'd get there sooner or later.]

I'd better go make sure Cooj doesn't lose that thing in a ditch or something, it cost good money. Later!


[OOC: For Ecruteak action, feel free to encounter Heather wandering around town later! She'll be trying to hunt down the friends of hers who are in town so that she can hand them their Christmas swag in person.]

[ALSO feel free to assume your character got their present from Heather, if you haven't already seen the list! I don't think I forgot anybody...]
I'm feeling: curious
Yo, this is where I'm at: Ecruteak City
Heather Mason
23 December 2011 @ 12:28 am
[The shaggy, retreating backside of a panting Growlithe trotting through the snow and a view of worn, upside-down brown boots tromping along hurriedly after him is the first thing to greet the screen. Accompanying the hurried crunch-squeak of footsteps through good fresh snow is Heather's aggravated voice.]



Come on, it's COLD! Don't pull this. I will skin y-- COOJ!

[The 'Gear probably bumped against her leg or something and came on by accident-- cue SHAKYCAM dog chase! Up ahead, Cujo stops briefly and whirls gleefully in the snow to face his trainer. Instantly the cause of his flight is seen-- he's got one of her gloves in his mouth and clearly decided that now would be a great time to play Keepaway. He pauses briefly with his rump in the air and tail wagging slowly-- only to turn tail and go gallumphing off through the snow again as soon as Heather (and the camera) get close enough to try and make a grab.]

[Heather curses viciously under her breath and the chase begins again, complete with hollered threats.]

[... But eventually the angry yells of 'I AM GOING TO TURN YOU INTO A TIGER-SKIN RUG AND THEN HENRY WILL SLEEP ON YOU' trail off and are replaced by a brief, uncertain silence, followed by an alarmed-sounding tone.]

Wh-- Cooj-- ... No.

[The motion had stopped briefly, but it quickly picks up again as Heather breaks into a sprint.]

Nononononononono COOJ! Don't!

[In the midst of all the shakiness, the 'Gear shifts just long enough to show what Heather is apparently so upset about-- and that is Cujo's creamy tail far ahead disappearing into a building-- a hulking, charred, broken building. The Burned Tower. Or what was left of it, anyway...]

[Out of breath, Heather pauses when she reaches the slight plateau the tower's foundations sit on, briefly wheeling to look back down the hill at the town below, then back at the dark entrance. Waffling between going in or just yelling for Cujo at the doorway.]

... God dammit... COOJ!

[She steps through the doorway and into the dark interior of the building. Now that the camera's not shaking all over the place, she's holding it up for the sake of illumination, turning slowly in place to take in the charred walls around her. There's shafts of light cutting through the broken areas up top, and snowflakes drift down in the breeze like ashes.]

... God this place is creepy... My kingdom for a flashlight... Cuuuujoooo... c'mon, boy, where are you?

[The wood creaks underfoot as she steps forward. The place has that eerie silence that only ruined places have, and is it sorta freaking Heather out? You bet. Her voice takes on a singsong tone to distract herself from the smell of the burnt wood.]

Cuuujoooooo... if you come out, I'll give you all my leftover beef jerrrkyyyy...

... Or one of Henry's shoooooes?

... C'mon, mutt, I can HEAR you panting somewhere over there, just c'mon ou--

[... And then there is an ominous groan immediately followed by an EXPLOSIVE crackling of wood and a startled holler. The visual is immediately replaced by darkness, and a THUD signals an abrupt meeting with the ground.]

[Accompanied by the pitter-patter of falling splinters and dusty, Heather sits up, coughing and holding up the 'Gear again.]

UGH... hell...

[A bright hole above her (which she apparently just CREATED) swivels into view as she aims the 'Gear upwards. A familiar orange canine head pops into view over the edge of the hole still with the stolen glove in his mouth.]

... I am SO not getting you anything for Christmas.

[There's a hollow thumping noise as his tail whacks against the floor above and Cujo promptly drops the glove down the hole. It hits the screen and bounces off, hitting the floor. Heather reaches out and picks it up, giving it a shake.]

Great. Thanks. That is super helpful. Really.

You're like Lassie.

What would I do without you-- oh crap.

[In the classic tradition of shaky-cam horror movies everywhere, there was a noise somewhere off-camera (a low, crackling rumble of sorts) and immediately the view whipped around-- showing a brief flash of something off in the darkness coming around a corner. Something lizardlike and fiery. Then the feed cuts.]

[ooc: Video responses will take place an hour or so after the feed, from a slightly singed-looking Heather.]
I'm feeling: annoyed
Yo, this is where I'm at: The Burned Tower, just outside Ecruteak.
Heather Mason
[Another day, another long shift at work. Heather doesn't really mind, though. It's one hell of a difference between the hectic stress of the job in the department store that she had last year. What a difference having SANE bosses can make, even if the job is more boring.]

[As the morning sun creeps higher behind the snowclouds and lights up the powder drifting down from the sky, Heather is seated at one of the stools behind the counter in the diner where she now works, and is making herself incredibly useful by balancing all the salt-shakers she can find on top of one another.]

[And then putting all those little sealed packets of sliced cheese she can find on top of THOSE.]

[It's a quiet morning, okay? Leave her alone!]

[Needless to say, one of the owners of the diner-- an old married couple-- spots his newest employee working on the Leaning Tower of Cheesa and just sort of shakes his head, sighing. Kids these days.]

Miss Mason, as much as I hate to stifle the budding artist in you, the soda machines need cleaning.

[Heather heaves an enormously-dramatic mock sigh as she gets up.]

Ugh, finnneeee. You're just jealous of my deeply creative spirit.

You got me. I'm turning green. Dish-soap should be in the back.

[Having chill bosses is AWESOME. Heather had decided she liked having bosses she could banter with almost as soon as she got the job. She sticks her tongue out at him as she passes, on her way to the back door. And then she has an idea!]

[Pulling out her 'Gear, she hits the network button.]

HEY GUYS. Who wants to watch me CLEAN SHIT?

[Because clearly if she had to do boring things, it would improve everybody else's lives to watch her do them.]

[But behind her, the boss clears his throat meaningfully, and Heather rolls her eyes.]

Oh, that's just Danny!

[OOC: COME AT ME BROS. Feel free to assume that Heather is elsewhere if you don't feel like dealing with Danny-- 4th Wall is like CRACK: THE EVENT, so I'm happy to stick her wherever.]
I'm feeling: scared
Heather Mason
09 December 2011 @ 09:10 pm
[You guys.]

[You guys.]

[It is so cold outside.]

[No, seriously, it's bitter and the snow's been building up and for the towns up north like Mahogany and Ecruteak, the snow is rooooollin' in.]

[But unlike last year, when Heather pretty much spent the first snows of the season filming her Pokemon skidding around on the streets of Goldenrod trying to eat snowflakes ... this time, when the feed comes on, it's filming the snow out the window from indoors, where it's brightly lit, with low, cheerful chatter in the background.]

[Outside, the snow is drifting down in big, fat flakes over the old houses of Ecruteak, making the whole dang place look like a gingerbread town.]

[Heather's voice cuts in.]

Guess what, you guys.

[And then the 'Gear is scooted around, giving a jerky view of what seems to be the interiors of one of the several old diners in the town, festively decorated and full of old folks enjoying their coffee. Then Heather's face slides into view, and she leans in for a moment or so, adjusting the 'Gear's position a little, biting her lip as she does so. Then she withdraws, grinning widely.]

I am no longer a drain on society.

That's right, people.

I have a job.

Try not to faint.

[... She does look slightly less messy than usual. Like she actually tried to do something with her hair and gave up halfway through as opposed to one sixth of the way through. ... Oh. And also. She's in a dress.]

[... But don't get too excited, guys. There's nothing to fill the dress with so somehow Heather In a Dress looks even more like a boy than Heather In Normal Clothes does. Still, viewers, feel free to take a moment or two to inwardly marvel at the bizarre, surreal vision that is 'Heather Mason in a nice, old-school waitress outfit', but don't expect her to wait up for you. She's already continuing, scratching absent-mindedly at the collar of the dress as she does so.]

Figured I'd better rake up some cash before Christmas gets too close-- gotta get people presents and stuff, y'know? So yeah. The old folks who own the place are super chill. They make my last manager look like .... well, she already was a psycho bitch-monster of death, but they make her look like even MORE of one. [She pauses, canting her head to give the 'Gear one of those 'YOU KNOW WHAT I'M TALKIN ABOUT' looks, because there HAVE to be some people out there who remember where Heather worked around this time last year. And WHO she worked for.] Guys who were here one year ago, you probably remember her.

But yeah, so, they gave me permission to check messages and stuff if it's not too busy in here, so! Best bosses ever.

And hey, if you're in the area, stop by and visit or something. It's nice and warm in here.

... Plus...

[And that's when she holds up a coffeepot, with a cheerful grin that borders ever-so-slightly on the sinister.]

I'm legally sanctioned to pour boiling hot liquids in close proximity to people now! Sweet, huh?

[End feed. c:]
Yo, this is where I'm at: Ecruteak City
Heather Mason
04 November 2011 @ 05:33 pm
[It's about eight in the morning, the day after Halloween night. Juuuuust the right time for the bright early-morning sun to be shining in through everybody's windows. The Ecruteak Inn in particular is RIGHT in the perfect place for that light to be blaring in, which is why the first thing that shows on the screen (accompanied by the scrapes and jitters of somebody picking the 'Gear up) are the bright white bars of sunlight across the wooden inn-room floor.]

[The next thing it shows is ALSO covered in the bars of sunlight, but it's so BRIGHT that the glare actually maxes out the screen's capacity for a second or two before it adjusts and shows that the gleam is actually the sunlight reflecting in a million little points off of what seems to be a fairly impressive pile of NOT candy like one might expect there to be on somebody's floor after a successful night of trick-or-treating, but... shiny... things?]

[Yes. Shiny things. All kinds. Eyeglasses, doorknobs, strings of still-lit decorative Halloween lights, a genuine police badge, a set of handcuffs, a roll of foil tinsel, some well-polished pots and pans, small hand-held mirrors, coins of all shapes and sizes, more than a few pieces of (gulp) expensive-looking jewelry, a weathervane, several articles of clothing studded with those fake rhinestones, bottles of glitter (as one may imagine, the glitter is now EVERYWHERE), flashlights of all shapes and sizes (all of them are still turned on), a large (and opened) tube of "Sparkle Fun" toothpaste, what appears to be a small army of glossy Mr. Mime-shaped garden gnomes...]

[And that's just the tip of the iceberg. Somebody was productive last night.]

[The unmistakeable sound of a panting dog suddenly invades the speakers and a giant orange blur passes in front of the screen briefly, accompanied by the click-click-click of blunt claws on hardwood.Then the sound of licking, followed by a hoarse groan.]


[Around this point, the view begins to zoom out. .... Erratically and jerkily, like the most poorly-filmed dramatic zoom-out in history, because instead of using the zoom button, the camera-holder is literally scooting backwards across the floor on his butt, all the way to his sleeping bag. Only then is the whole scene revealed.]

[Sprawled across the sparkly spoils of their night on the town are two very, VERY tired teens, now only partially-dressed as the thieving monkey and corvid they started the night out as. Kaito Kuroba is face-down on top of a small, tangled pile of beaded strings (you know, the rainbow-colored kind that hippies hang on their doors), with his monkey-ear headband slid down over the back of his head. And part two of the dastardly duo is flat on her back, half of her poncho rumpled up around her neck and her mask is halfway off. As is expected of someone like Heather, she bears the telltale marks of having apparently gotten into a physical FIGHT with someone at some point during the night, and somewhat LESS expected of someone like Heather, she also has what appears to be an infant Tyrogue clinging to one of her legs.]

[It's like The Hangover, ADD Teenager Halloween Edition.]

[The screen stops jittering once the filmer is safely settled on his sleeping bag once more.]

[Cujo is busy rousing his trainer by licking what's visible of her face while she mumbles protests and sort of feebly slaps him with one hand, while Kaito is dragging his face up off of his uncomfortable-looking pillow and squinting blearily in the bright morning light. Biz the Aipom scampers onto the screen and hops up on his trainer's shoulder to proudly present him one of the many wallets stolen during the night. Nobody particularly notices.]

Wh... huh...?

Cujo, go 'way ... where... whuhappen...

[At last, the mystery filmer finally speaks up, in that mild, quiet tone some of the network may be familiar with as coming from the scruffy, twitchy photographer that follows Heather and her father around and occasionally talks about serial killer owls.]

Oh, you two are up.

Mr. Mason says you have to give all that stuff back today.

[The two teens stare at him blearily, and then down at their piles. ... And then at themselves. Kaito reaches up to run his fingers through his hair and produces a small shower of glitter. Heather lifts her leg in the air with a mildly horrified expression at the pink... thing on her leg. Then they look back at Henry.]

[The feed cuts.]

[BUT A FEW HOURS LATER, a much-more-cleaned-up Heather will be popping onto the feed again, hair still sticking in every direction (she'd had it gelled to look like a Murkrow's head feathers) and glitter still sparkling pretty much... everywhere. ... Including her teeth, when she grins sheepishly.]

Uh... hey, guys... so um... Kaito and I found a bunch of... stuff... that was apparently stolen... by kids in costumes. That totally weren't us.

... So if some weirdos grabbed something from you last night, it might... totally be here.



... Happy Halloween.

[OOC: Action for Kaito and roomies, obviously! Otherwise, if your character was in Ecruteak, feel free to assume that the dastardly duo nicked something from them and will be sheepishly returning it at some point today.
= Kaito, Orange = Heather, Brown = Henry.]
Yo, this is where I'm at: Ecruteak City Inn
I'm feeling: confused
Heather Mason
27 October 2011 @ 10:35 pm
Hey, 'Zilla, you got the 'Gear?

This stuff NEEDS to be documented.

[That's the first thing that can be heard over the feed. When the camera first comes on, a pair of large, familiar reptilian red eyes are blinking down at it. Is it recording...? Oh, okay, recording! Good.]

[Then it zooms out a little, enough to show-- HEY! That's not the Totodile that last hijacked the 'Gear!]

[With newly black-rimmed eyes, a proud red crest, and a new ultra-manly thickened jaw, it would seem that the bratty little Totodile who'd last been seen moping on the network over whether or not he was a good Pokemon... had finally evolved, after a whole year of wanting to stay 'the baby' of the gang. What prompted his choice to finally start growing up?]

[Well, that's a story that'll have to wait till later, because he lets out a satisfied snort at the sight of the red recording light, and then turns it away from himself-- only for the screen to IMMEDIATELY be filled with a grotesquely-detailed rubber Mightyena mask, snarling and sporting a wild mane of black hair over the top!]


[... Oh wait. The black hair is just Heather.]

[She yanks the mask off, grinning widely.]

I can't even handle all these epically cheesy costumes, man. Some things really ARE universal.

[The camera shifts a little-- it's from a much higher vantage-point than normal now, considering all the previous times the camera-croc's been the one filming, it's been from a vantage point on the FLOOR unless he was able to persuade Honey the Butterfree to carry him-- and it becomes apparent that they're in a costume store. There's rack after rack of jumbled costumes everywhere-- looks like it's already been pretty thoroughly ransacked by local kids, but there's still plenty of stuff left. It's just... everywhere.]

[Hanging the mask back up, Heather bends down to start picking through the other odds and ends, which range from cheesy and cheap-looking to actually fairly interesting.]

Maybe this time around, we'll actually get to ENJOY the holiday instead of spend the whole time running away from rips in the fabric of space and time...

[OOC: Action for anybody in Ecruteak, obviously! Feel free to assume your character is already in the shop, Heather will gladly harass them to try on stupid costume crap with her. Also feel free to address the camera-croc.]
I'm feeling: excited
Yo, this is where I'm at: Ecruteak City costume shop
Heather Mason
20 October 2011 @ 02:38 am
[Before the video shows anything, there's some shuffling sounds, and then the tell-tale noise of a cardboard package being ripped open. Then, Heather's voice, muffled at first, speaks up.]

... Again?

[She sounds surprised. ... Unpleasantly so.]

[The 'Gear is tugged out of her pocket at that point, its view wavering and then settling on the torn-open box she apparently just received by Dragonite delivery, in the Ecruteak inn lobby. The Dragonite in question is already slinging its mailbag over its shoulder and lumbering out the door, visible over the edge of the box.]

[Much like one of Heather's posts from earlier in the month, inside the box sits a single Pokeball. She had pulled out the 'Gear to check the Trainer ID, and doesn't realize it's on yet. There's some clacking noises as she thumbs the buttons a little distractedly... and then she gets her answer.]

... God dammit...

[Her voice had gone from surprised to resigned in a surprisingly short amount of time, but then, given the number of friends of hers disappearing lately... that's hardly surprising. And in this case, it's one that's hitting her a little harder than she might have previously thought. Of all the presences in Johto she hadn't even begun to think might up and poof out of existence one day... and this is one that she'd still had so many questions for.]

[That little praying mantis soul skittering down the streets in my head... that really WAS him, wasn't it.]

[She heaves a sigh and her hand appears, reaching into the box to take the ball out.]

Might as well see who I got...

[She presses the button with her thumb and triggers the obligatory flash of white light...]

.... What the-- ... aw, HELL.

[Wow. From surprised, to resigned, to.... indignant?]

[The dazzling light fades after a second or two, and shows....]


[... A Gengar that, if it were speaking English, would surely be cussing everyone and their grandmothers out in language so foul it would make a sailor blush. Heather is already recoiling from it, groaning out loud. Of course. Of course he'd leave her... THAT.]

God dammit... of all the-- HEY. Hey, GHOST... thing.

[Slightly the Gengar, who had clearly been cooped up in that ball for quite some time during transit and is now in the foulest of moods and wondering where the hell L is, turns his red-eyed glare on Heather, and the 'Gear. >8( WHAT!]

Look, Ryuzaki's ... ghost thing, I know you're probably pissed, but me and ghosts? Don't get along. So if you're gonna-- ... I dunno, be part of my team or whatever, I'd better not get any of that funny business from you, all right?

[She remembers the angry messages scrawled all over L's hotel-room walls, okay?]

[Needless to say, the ghost Pokemon merely scrunches his face up in response. Who's THIS bitch?! He raises both stubby paw-hands and proceeds to flip off his new trainer without so much as a how-do-you-do. Heather (still not visible-- the 'Gear is dangling idly in her hand by her side) just huffs.]

Now, see, that? You can do THAT all you want. Just don't touch my stuff, or my roomies, or do any of your freaky-ass ghost shit, okay? ... Okay. Great. Ugh...

[She starts to turn away. Better go upstairs and brace Henry for the fact that there was now going to be a GHOST hanging around on occasio-- askhg';JGA;LDFKJG';S WHAFUCK--]

And then there was chaos. )





[ooc: Responses will come either... mid-fight or after things have settled down. Ecruteak-goers, feel free to experience the wonder that is a teenage girl rolling around on the floor and trying to punch a ghost.]
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Yo, this is where I'm at: Ecruteak City
I'm feeling: angry
Heather Mason
[So what's the best thing for someone who's been spending their time alternately fretting and pretending not to be fretting over circumstances well beyond their control?]

[A) More fretting
B) Meditation

[If anyone answered anything other than C, they're either very silly, or Cooper.]

[Heather is neither (.... okay, maybe she's the former quite often), so needless to say... when the posters for the Johto-wide fighting tournament going on in Goldenrod City hit the streets, they were the first thing to catch her eye. In fact, anyone spending any amount of time with her in person has probably noticed the way she's been stopping in the middle of whatever she was doing every single time she passes one of the damn things to look at it contemplatively, with a cocked head and a sort of half-wistful, half-devilish look in her eye.]

[As such, nobody whatsoever should be surprised when she pops up on the network on the day of signups ending with one of the flyers in hand. She'd been waffling on account of the fact that her father was sure do disapprove, but... man, she's been spoiling for something like this for months, and she's got... more than a little steam to blow off. Steam that isn't always so easy to blow off in a world where society expects you to resolve all your conflicts by letting animals do your fighting for you.]

YO Johto, what's the happs?

[She grins broadly and then flourishes the poster at the screen.]

Guys. Guys. Look.

Look at this.

Best thing ever, or BEST thing ever?

Who else's gonna sign up?

I'M gonna. ... Assuming the puppy-eyes work on Dad, I guess. They're a little rusty but I was once the puppy-eyes champion so I should be okay. And for anybody weirded out by the surreal idea of ME doing puppy-eyes, ask yourselves this: how ELSE could I have gotten away with all the crazy crap you totally know I got up to as a kid?

[A sly, knowing nod.]

Yeah, makes more sense now, doesn't it.


[Another flourish of the poster.]

So if any of you are planning on being in this thing, gimme a shout! I wanna size up the competition and stuff. ... And also, transportation? I'm in Ecruteak, so... if anyone's in the area, I guess we could carpool, or something? [She's not opposed to the idea of leaping on a strange Pidgeot if she HAS TO, buuuuut...] I mean, the Tournament isn't supposed to LAST too long, so I'm guessin' we'd all only be gone for like... what, a week or two at most? Then I'd be headed back to Ecruteak because seriously, nice place.

Anyway... [She trails off, eyes flicking off to the side of the screen.] I'd better go convince Dad that I won't die if I do this. [Eyes back to the screen, she gives a somber, soldier-like nod and salutes solemnly.] Wish me luck, my people.

[BOOP. End feed.]

Yo, this is where I'm at: Ecruteak City
I'm feeling: excited
Heather Mason
21 September 2011 @ 08:57 pm
[It's a fairly common occurrence for Godzilla the Totodile to hijack Heather's 'Gear-- he's sort of had an affinity for filming ever since he first hatched, after all. But apart from his one little act of philanthropy a few weeks back, he's actually been surprisingly absent for the most part, at least in the sense that he hasn't been filming with the 'Gear much, with or without permission.]

[But TODAY when Heather's feed fizzles on, it's not the blond trainer but instead the little blue crocodile Pokemon.]

[His pebbled brows are furrowed, though, and ... are those BAGS under his eyes? Is it even possible for reptiles to GET bags under their eyes? Is Heather just rubbing off on him or what?]

[He seems to be sitting on the little balcony outside his trainer's room at the Ecruteak Inn, stubby legs dangling off the edge between the rail bars. Ecruteak is a quiet town at night, and as such there's none of the loud nightlife that characterizes many late-night city posts. Just crickets, and the occasional sound of people or Pokemon moving about in the brightly-lit room behind him.]

[It's a moment or two before he actually says anything, but the look in his red eyes is deeper and more contemplative than the normally self-centered little animal usually has.]

... What do you have to do to be a good Pokemon?
Yo, this is where I'm at: Ecruteak City Inn
I'm feeling: contemplative
Heather Mason
[The feed opens in a decidedly innocent fashion. It's jauntily wobbling back and forth as its holder walks, and the screen is filled by a big blue :D face, backed by an even bluer sky. ... And the occasional waving green tips from the sand dunes he's passing. Yes, Butch the Quagsire is on the beach, waddling happily down to the shore with Heather's 'Gear-- perhaps stolen in hopes of being able to carry on a happy WOOOOO-filled long-distance conversation with Flapper.]

[But an angry-sounding gurgle rings out behind him-- and Butch turns to face his pursuer, who is equally blue, but a great deal smaller.]



[What follows is a very shaky view of the sky jittering around as the two Pokemon engage in a fierce tug-of-war over the gadget. Occasionally their faces pop into view, and while it's more or less impossible for a Quagsire to actually look angry, it's obvious that it's a heated debate. Finally, apparently deciding that it's too much trouble, Butch lets go of the 'Gear with a huffy 'QUA!' and waddles off.]

[Godzilla's concerned red eyes appear in front of the screen as he checks over the 'Gear delicately, as if checking to make sure it wasn't damaged. Anyone who's gotten used to the Totodile's presence in Heather's transmissions before may note that he seems a lot more... contrite than usual, maybe? Which has actually been the case ever since the OMNOM ELBOW incident a couple months before... strange.]

[In any case, once satisfied, he sets off waddling back across the sand, determinedly. If anyone's actually cared enough to keep watching that long (or is just tuning in now), his destination becomes apparent immediately.]

[In a shady spot juuuuust where the sand starts to shift over to grass and trees, Heather is sprawled on her back on an unused old picnic table, arms folded behind her head, along with her wadded-up vest for a pillow. There's a few old chip bags and soda bottles scattered around the little sun-dappled area, but it would seem that whoever left them had probably packed up and left much earlier, since Heather's the only one there.]

[... That's probably why she's there... judging from the dull, despondent quality of the way she's staring up at the foliage above.]

[And then she's lost from view briefly, as Godzilla struggles to clamber up to her, first onto the bench-seat, and then the tabletop itself. Then he's standing next to her and fumbling with the 'Gear, giving viewers a view first of her jeans pocket, then one hand, then the card-deck pattern on her shirt, then (inexplicably) a zoomed-in view of worn-out wooden table-top, before it finally settles on her face as he presents the 'Gear to her with a self-important gurgle that can only be an attempt to tattle on Butch.]

[At first, she doesn't even turn her head. It's pretty obvious her mind is elsewhere. But when he tries again, this time nudging her shoulder with the 'Gear, a flicker of irritability crosses her face and she looks over.]

... Zilla, what--

[... Oh. It's the 'Gear. ... And the damn red light is blinking.]

[... Heather frowns with lidded eyes and shoves the 'Gear away.]

Get that thing outta my face.

[The Totodile makes an apologetic (and slightly hurt) sound, but relinquishes the 'Gear when she takes it and ends the feed abruptly.]

[Private text to Harry Mason and Henry Townshend]


I was thinking maybe we could try and head east to Ecruteak City in a few days??

We've been here awhile now
I'm feeling: distressed
Yo, this is where I'm at: Olivine City
Heather Mason
[So something happened that morning. Something ... owly.]

[What, exactly, do you do when you suddenly find yourself in possession of way more fluffy spherical owls than anyone would know what to do with?]


[Anyone in Olivine City, whether they've settled down with a house or are just staying there temporarily, may witness a rather odd sight on this sunny Saturday afternoon.]

[A teenage girl and a scruffy twenty-something man, toting bold-printed signs and... what seems to be a large red wagon full of Hoothoots]

[Behind them, a rambunctious oversized Growlithe, and-- a little further back-- a middle-aged fellow in a brown coat (despite the summer heat), toting a Togepi and a Pichu and keeping his distance, because it's totally uncool for a parent to walk right next to the kids while they're trick-or-treating (although either he or one of the Pokemon would seem to be filming them surreptitiously with the 'Gear on and off, judging by the snippets of Hoothoot Sale Adventures occasionally popping up on the network).]

[... Or in this case, being the best little owl salesmen ever. Even if Henry doesn't particularly look like he wants to be there. Still, the little parade almost looks like it needs some kind of ridiculous owl-selling theme music.]

[Throughout the day, if anyone has a residence in Olivine, they may have THIS show up on their doorstep:]

[... And the girl will glance over at her companion, see that he's not planning on speaking up, and then clear her throat loudly.]

HEY there, good sir and-or madam!

Would you like to buy an owl?

[ooc: Anyone over the network is free to purchase their own adorable roly-poly spherical owl for 500P! It's assumed that any left will be sold to people here and there in Olivine. Except for the derpiest two. Heather has special recipients in mind for those.]
I'm feeling: mischievous
Yo, this is where I'm at: Olivine City
Heather Mason
[Oh, man. Oh man, oh man, oh man.]

[It had taken an entire year.]

[For a couple months past 365 days, Heather's life had been blessedly free of something she'd always known was possible but had never seriously considered would happen. Lulled into a false sense of security by her general good luck regarding which people from her own world showed up here, she supposed.]

[All decent folks. No cultists. No creepers.]

[... Until now.]

[It takes her a bit to decide exactly what she's going to do about it. She can't just sit there, after all. She has to tell some people. ... Not everybody. That would be stupid, and attract unwanted attention. Not to mention, he'd probably just find it funny. No, she'll just... tell a few.]

[Some people who already knew a little about... that place. She'd already GOTTEN a message from L, which meant that she wasn't the only person paying attention. But she's not so sure about the rest of her friends. So without any further ado...]

[PRIVATE TEXT to: Kaito Kuroba, Rise Kujikawa, Envy, Liquid Snake, Hal 'Otacon' Emmerich, Dale Cooper, Ironhide, Ken Amada, and Miles Edgeworth]

If you've got a free moment, I gotta talk to you. It's important.

[... There. That'll do for starters...]

[Shutting the 'Gear, she sets it down on the bed for the moment. Now to take care of the OTHER thing.]

Hey, Dad? Henry?
Yo, this is where I'm at: Olivine City Inn
I'm feeling: stressed