Tag: about the author

Bill, what’s your favorite Flying-type?

If I may be allowed to cheat a little, I’m deeply fond of dragonite and other half-dragons. Dragons in general fascinate me, likely because of their general elusiveness and the fact that they aren’t a very well-understood type. Dragonite comes to mind in particular because of its human-like intelligence. I would be delighted to have a chance to meet one, just to be able to learn how much dragonite can understand.

(Other than that, I suppose I’m a little partial to Ho-oh, but this would be cheating as well, seeing as anyone would offer their utmost respect for the things they worship in the first place.)

Hello Bill! Are you a fan of any sports?

I admit I’m not a fan of participating in any sports. My hand-eye coordination is unfortunate, and the thought of being outside doesn’t particularly interest me.

However, I do like to watch sports now and then. Pokémon soccer, for example, as well as the Pokéathlon tournaments. Also, depending on whom you ask, training itself may be considered a sport, and that is quite possibly my favorite one to watch. The league tournaments are terribly exciting, I must say.

You know, I briefly considered breaking into your house and stealing your entire refrigerator for April Fools and making one of those snide puns over the phone at you. I ended up giving up on the idea. For one,I’m not sure ANYONE can break into that fortress you call a home. Which is probably best because I’m also not sure I completely thought the whole thing through on how I was going carry an entire refrigerator without a Pokemon to use Strength, and all right under your nose. So Happy April!

Bebe beat you to it anyway. I’m afraid I can’t possibly tell you how, but she did.

Happy April to you as well, dear reader.

So your mom is making complaints about your staunch bachelorship is she?

I’m afraid she has since I’ve been of age, anon. Fortunately for me, I’m the second born, so as long as my older sister never marries, I’m free to devote as much of myself to my work as I please. After all, tradition states that the eldest marries first, followed by the second, and so forth, and forgive me if you’re reading, dear sister, but the likelihood of her marrying anytime soon is about on par as the likelihood of Ho-oh returning to Johto within our lifetime.

I’m glad you’re back and reasonably unscatched, Bill. : )

Thank you. I am too. I lost far too many days of productivity to that incident.

Bill, you built a robotic turtwig and subsequently managed to set it on fire. —LH

It was a portable storage system, and the fire was a perfectly valid field test. I was able to confirm the cooling requirements of a teleportation unit that small, and we now know that the turtwig should not be exposed to direct heat. I’d consider that a successful test. —Bill

anonabsolxwolf:

bills-pokedex:

Technical difficulties. Please stand by.

We apologize for the inconvenience. Bill will be back as soon as he catches an errant abomination. 

In the meantime, did you know? Missingno. are not, as the pokédex states, over ten feet tall. This is also part of their anomalous properties. Rather, they are roughly the size and weight of an adult pidgeotto. They are also like pidgeotto in that they, too, are extremely vocal, voracious, and liable to fly directly into any kind of heat source, even if that heat source is a solid tower of machinery.

I thought this was an interesting fact, anyway. —LH

Sorry for the trouble, Lanette.  

Quite all right, reader. It’s hardly any trouble for me. My partner, on the other hand…

Well. Let’s consider this karmic realignment for Valentine’s Day. —LH

Right outside the door was a little packet of dairy free chocolates, wrapped up carefully in a white handkerchief with a shiny black bow. The attached message had been hastily hole punched so that the ribbon could loop through, as if the two words within, “Thank You” , had been an afterthought.

{(Click here to read the entry this refers to.)

The morning after being thrown into the ocean, a now perfectly dry, healed, and rested Bill steps out to get the mail and finds a small bundle at his feet instead. He stops to pick it up, feeling through the fabric somethings small, waxy, and wrapped in plastic. His fingers find the ribbon and, by extension, the note, and he pauses to read the latter. When he does, he smiles. He doesn’t need to ask whether or not the chocolates inside are indeed dairy-free—she of course forgot to mention that—because he recognizes the hasty scrawl and just knows.

She’s a good friend when you get right down to it.}