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[vct] KUROMI AND MY MELODY

POSTED ON Jan 1, 2024 8:43:07 GMT

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Something felt different here. Something in the air. Amid all the talk of war and natural disaster... amid evelyn silph 's speech about rebuilding Hoenn... here they all were doing mock battles. Dylan stood there, hair tousled by a gentle breeze. Rocking a designer plaid coat sitting over a band tee, with matching tan slacks and bulky black boots.

Dylan stood facing a building, vape hanging out of his mouth like a pacifier. Ribbons of peppermint-scented mist trailed out of his nose as he stowed it away. His hands were jammed in his pockets. "It's been ages. How have you been? Any shows, lately? I saw you dropped the other day."

He asked, slowly turning to face her. Dylan clicked a ball clipped to his belt, turning his Grimmsnarl loose. Its muscles seemed to rhythmically tighten and loosen, hair catching the sun. Dylan's skin had a healthy glow, but he looked as sleep-deprived as ever. His Grimmsnarl looked to him with a brow arched. What was bro yapping about. "Navidson taught me... real fights don't have referees. How do you fight?" He said, The vibe was... all over the place.

DESIREE BLOOMS

How Long I Been Up? I Don’t Know Anymore
Up Past 1 , 2, 3, FOURRRR

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VITAL CITY TOURNAMENT

POSTED ON Jan 1, 2024 7:20:29 GMT

VITAL TRACKER

GOOD LUCK, COMPETITOR!
[break]

PARTNER POKEMON:
GRIMMSNARL

VITALS EARNED:
### VITALS FROM link WITH @opponent (WIN OR LOSS)

TOTAL VITALS:
HOW MANY VITALS DO YOU CURRENTLY HAVE?

REWARDS OBTAINED:
LIST ALL THE REWARDS OBTAINED FROM THE VITAL PASS, INCLUDING PD.

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SECRET SANTA: DYLAN

POSTED ON Dec 31, 2023 7:20:25 GMT

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When I go, will you wait for me? I’ll be down by the river and the trees.

POSTED ON Dec 28, 2023 13:25:07 GMT

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Their ride...? Hitching a ride in a called cab sure was something, but the real treat was the throng of photographers there. The upstairs and downstairs of pop culture peeling out of the same car. Dylan couldn't help but play it up, sneering at the cameras and fanning his hair out with one hand. He smiled, and did little finger-guns at Evelyn as the two parted.

Dylan emerged from the dressing room in a distressed sweater and black jeans, with a windbreaker hanging off his shoulders. His hair remained thick and wavy, having been patted gently with texturizing gels earlier that day. The two met again in the hall, Evelyn opening with some light ribbing. Curiously, Dylan had a sneeze, a dry one. Must be the winter air getting to him. "Almost... Do you think you're ready?" He grinned at her comment, then looked her over. "It really suits you. It brings me back to that talk we had about flowers."

Don't let me down, okay?

This is it. The walkup to the stage is agonizing. Dylan scratched his nose, trying to zero in on the microphone and not meet the gaze of all those people. He walked out to the chanting of a choir, launching straight into deadpan singing, accompanied by rattling hats and burnt out guitars. This dragged out for a while, intermittently filling air with his tag. I regret everything I've done. DJ Sorrow.

And when he grew bored, Dylan gestured to the DJ for the night, queueing something to set the tone for the rest of the night. With as much conviction as he could muster, he ended his set belting out lines like "All I ask for is you believe in me." His voice wavered like he was approaching tears.

He then took a bow, balling up his windbreaker and throwing it into the crowd. Dylan placed the microphone back in the stand, walking backstage with his hands in his pockets, and his head held low. He turned and fell into the nearest chair, eyes scanning around. Was that... Evelyn? "...Go get 'em, tiger."

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When I go, will you wait for me? I’ll be down by the river and the trees.

POSTED ON Dec 28, 2023 2:31:10 GMT

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Callan Young , owner of his label and late of the elite four, once called him Frankenstein’s Monster. And if nothing else, he was the monster picking flowers, roaming the countryside, and caring for lost children at this point. The pitchforks hadn’t come for him yet. "I don’t know who believes in me. Who’d pick up if I called. But… now’s my chance to make everyone care." He said, starting to look more determined.

Galanthus. This may be his shot at bettering his craft and himself. He already had his setlist in mind, but more eyes and more experienced peers would help. Something about that got a grin out of him. Alright, keep it cool. Don’t overstate your enthusiasm. "And you’re kind of a Zinnia yourself. A solitary kind of flower. Red and… nothing can make you wilt for that long. You’ll never stop growing. I saw how quickly you bounced back after that frown on your face."

Dylan didn’t show it, but he started to regret blurting that out the second his mouth shut. Her pinky promise wouldn’t go unnoticed. He snickered, uncurling a finger to grip hers. "—Tch. Are you trying to hold my hand again? I’ll stay until the venue kicks me out. I’ll be there in your corner. Now, let’s get out there and give ‘em a show."

He said, glancing aside to the rented out Pokemon Contest Hall, a dome seating 50,000.

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MECHANICAL KINGDOM: AD

POSTED ON Dec 27, 2023 20:49:20 GMT

He should just say this outloud to her instead of glancing aside and thinking really hard. "I’m sure I’ll see you again, too.."

The door slammed shut. As Aubre grew concerned, Dylan glanced away. He’d been there a million times, here especially. He’d have to trust her to do her thing, and get ready to do his.

The sound of something approaching set him on edge. The last time something like this happened… He had to buy time for his friends to run. Grimmsnarl nodded to Dylan as he spoke. “Machine parts move due to momentum and often some kind of lubricant. I don’t think I’ll break the door, but maybe it won’t snap shut if I blast that off. That, and the metal will contract due to the cold, slowing the gears without stopping them. Grimmsnarl, use Chilling Water.”

A spout of water escaped his mouth, pressure-washing the gears, but not fully destroying them. Dylan smirked, gesturing for Grimmsnarl to be there to help Aubre’s Swampert if the two tried prying open the door again.

Dylan called his Shadow Skeledirge and stood his ground, turning his back to the door. There was something eerie about the crocodile, mist peeling off her skin as her skin merely graced that sterile air. Dylan’s eyes widened, as he balled up one hand into a fist. He looked like he’d seen a ghost. "…I’ll trust Grimmsnarl to you. Maybe he and your Swampert can pry the door open for you. If something’s coming, I can’t help but want to fight it. These things almost killed me, and I’m strong enough to buy you time this time."

Aubre McKenna-Settentrione

i think i'm losin it

08. Jam the machines.

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When I go, will you wait for me? I’ll be down by the river and the trees.

POSTED ON Dec 26, 2023 2:10:12 GMT

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He kinda spaced out there for a second. So this was it. Evelyn Silph. Biggest name on the bill, and he'd never seen her in his entire life. He'd had diva moments infront of bonafide divas but this was the big leagues. She jogged his memory with her comment earlier, and that'd be much appreciated.

Rest assured, he had a surprise cooked up. As much as Dylan was a messiah figure to boys with greasy hair in jeans that don't fit, he wasn't a kind and merciful god, especially with no word from any of his peers. He had something sensitive and clingy, badly mixed, leaning on a singing ability he barely had.

Evelyn would hear it soon enough. A loud, badly compressed producer tag, and watch him throw his shirt into the crowd. The thought of it made his eyes light up. "…Huh. We're all in the same place at the same time, but yeah. That's wild."

"Oh my god. And you're... I'm glad I'm up first, I'll get to sit backstage. A front row seat to your show." She then clasped his hand, prompting a weak smile. Normally any kind of hand holding or hugging made him want to vomit, but that one count em one drink hit him hard. "I know we have to get ready soon, but... I'm a little nervous. This is my biggest crowd yet. And I just wanted a shortcut to not being nervous."

He said, eliding any further questions. So long as she didn't see him powder his nose, everything would be fine.

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When I go, will you wait for me? I’ll be down by the river and the trees.

POSTED ON Dec 24, 2023 5:16:47 GMT

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Admittedly, dear reader, he did have a smell. The most low-budget bottle of designer perfume possible. Still highway robbery, but the scent of pear blossoms was a mist rising off of him, the aerosolized alcohol carrying it being far too thin and too strong. As floral and lively as he tried to smell, it was still a sterile kind of smell. "Mm. That sucks. Can you get outta work? Fake being sick on the phone, or somethin’?" He thought, as she returned his phone. He quickly turned the screen off, out of an equal desire to not be recognized by the public.

"...Oh. That’s… That’s cool." He said, thinking to his own experiences with live shows. He was often a weird detour himself, playing the heel to a cast of earnest, kind pop stars on stage. The novelty of doing this over and over lost its luster, but he was challenging himself as a producer and paying the bills. "I gotcha. It can be kinda scary with all those eyes on ya. —I don’t wanna take up too much of your time, if you wanna decompress by yourself."

"…Y’know… even if they aren’t here, someone’s gonna tape this and they’re gonna see it. And… yeah. Christmas by yourself can be devastating. I’ve had a few." He admitted, his expression softening. Watching her eyes stung him. He’d seen it and been there a million times. And he still didn’t know what to do about it. He’d since given up, settling for acquaintances that he called friends. But Evelyn’s next comment prompted a little smile. "Don’t worry about it. You had to get this off your chest. And besides… You’re rambling your worries to the opening act. My name is Dylan, but you’ll hear my stage name soon enough."

He said, finally putting his coat on. He thumbed the lapels, fanning them out in the cold breeze.

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When I go, will you wait for me? I’ll be down by the river and the trees.

POSTED ON Dec 23, 2023 13:16:21 GMT

Mildly buzzed, sure. But he wasn't so much drunk as he was staring at his phone too hard. Should he play into it and just let her think that? "I'm cool." Dylan looked slightly startled by the whole thing, but maintained his footing. The two phones clattered to the ground, landing face-up in the snow.

"...Thanks." Dylan felt slightly guilty about the whole thing. He saw his phone light up, a calendar app notification for the show. His eyes lit up, and he seemed a little more animated. "Are you in town for the festival, or do you like... live here?"

He asked, raising a hand to push a lock of lavender-colored hair from his face. The very top of his head was starting to gather snow, but he didn't seem bothered by it.

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Im a Dirty Jean Rocker , Bad Day Haver , Smoke Stack Cougher , Licensed Embalmer, Call Up the Coroner

Dirty Jean Rocker

POSTED ON Dec 23, 2023 9:49:46 GMT

The projector groaned to life, a pane of light hitting the wall. Howard circled back to a key point in his earlier lecture about the war between Galar and Kalos. Their shadows were cast on the wall, but Howard still pointed to a slide with perfect clarity.

Dylan glanced aside, mulling it over. "Dream as it may be, I only say they're at peace because their war is over. It's tragic that they didn't live to see it.".

Howard clapped him on the shoulder. Dylan's eyes lit up. He'd had his ideas and goals made all the more clear, and all the more easy to act on or defend. He stood there in his bulky boots, trying so hard to look standoffish. But he beamed at this sign of approval.

"I know where to look again. The next time I see you, I'll have pictures, or a piece of skin in a microscope slide." He said, hand clasping the strap on his own bag. "Thanks for letting me sit in on your lecture."

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When I go, will you wait for me? I’ll be down by the river and the trees.

POSTED ON Dec 22, 2023 1:44:12 GMT

The party ushered in opportunities to rub elbows with people, promote his art, and get his name out there. The self-proclaimed King of the Graveyard, a man who was used to Christmas by himself. Nonetheless, his trip to Lilycove for a charity event was well worth it, already seeing something outside a music store perfectly fit for Michael Navidson. He looked at Dylan and had the tenor of someone he’d raise hell with, were they both younger. Nonetheless, Dylan saw in the window a guitar with cutouts like a country or jazz instrument, nonetheless with pickups like an electric guitar. Next to it in the window was a bulky amp fit for it.

He showed up as he usually did, a no-name who barely squeezed himself onto the bill for a charity event in a fit straight out of hot topic, black windbreaker dangling off one shoulder. This year was gonna be different. He was gonna show up in Dewford with atleast one person there for him, even if nobody else seemed to notice him. A passerby glanced with concern, prompting a curt response."Hoes don’t get cold, baby. Remember that."

The lights piercing the snow and mist were a sight to behold. Those and the neon signs lining the streets both helped people find their way, mostly into the brightly lit, warm stores lining the streets. Passersby seemed to notice once or twice, prompting pictures with young men who appeared to have hair orders of magnitude more greasy than theirs. He forced smiles, whose curve never reached the skin of his eyes.

Playing drunk would’ve been a disaster, but a stop inside a smallish bar was fine. Maybe the blood staying in the center of his body would distract from those cold fingers. A vodka cran, a sailor’s drink in the tallest glass possible was downed in seconds, and met with a bill. He then stepped out into the street, slightly more cheery and all the less self-aware.

Try as he might though… Like Evelyn, the sight of a passing family caught his eye. While like the Grinch the sight of such a thing should make his little heart grow three sizes that day, he instead couldn’t help but look to his phone. No new messages. All the while, continuing his stroll in those bulky boots of his. He looked shaken even at the sight of it.

Leading him to crash into Evelyn, his phone landing next to hers in a patch of snow beside the street.

"Hey. I’m sorry. Are you good?" Dylan's voice sounded like it came up from the back of his throat, slightly rasped.

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dylan's infamy file

POSTED ON Dec 21, 2023 5:34:31 GMT

DYLAN SAYER'S INFAMY FILE

PUBLIC KNOWLEDGE X PRIVATE KNOWLEDGE

I REGRET EVERYTHING I'VE DONE. DJ SORROW.

I don't wanna save the world, I wanna be King of thе Graveyard

DJ SORROW is a vocalist and producer on the up and up. He's tackling the gym circuit both out of a keen awareness of Hoenn's myriad wars and a desire to increase his star-power. Dylan is quiet, passionate, and determined. His drive to protect others is born out of his own experiences with helplessness, but in the pursuit of it he'd go too far, as seen in his Father Winter file.

PUBLIC KNOWLEDGE

WHAT CAN BE LOOKED UP

Dylan Sayer is the latest signee on Callan Young's Teravolt Records, under the DJ SORROW moniker. He's a vocalist, producer, and songwriter who pairs aggressive, "bouncy" instrumentation with deadpan vocals.

He's the son of Darcy Sayer, a surgeon in Galar with a Medallion for Advancements in Surgical Care, and Morgan Sayer, a dialogue editor in the film industry. He takes after his mother, with his dark eyes and deep purple hair.

Dylan has two in-school suspensions on his permanent record in highschool, both for somehow getting his hands on cigarettes and being caught smoking, pictures of this are easier than ever to look up since his rise to a public figure. He went to college for Mortuary Science six years ago, but multiple health scares and nervous breakdowns kept him from finishing his degree.

He likes taking fit pics in the woods or by chain link fences, often posing with a box cutter, a knife, or a watch with a massive face.

LEAGUE KNOWLEDGE

POINTS OF INTEREST FOR THE LEAGUE FACTION

He has ties to Callan Young, and has been tutored by Michael Navidson. He's currently embarking on the gym circuit.

ROCKET KNOWLEDGE

POINTS OF INTEREST FOR TEAM ROCKET FACTION

...

PRIVATE KNOWLEDGE

PERSONAL SECRETS

Dylan has spent much of his early twenties going in and out of the hospital. The reasons vary from stomach ulcers to hiking accidents to near-fatal overdoses.

He grew up with a Snubbull, and as a result has a deep and abiding love for dogs, even as his ghostly persona emerged.

He's superstitious, fully up to date on paranormal phenomena as well as mystical arts like astrology and tarot.

He has few if any friends and confidants, and has a soft spot for others in their moment of weakness. He'll drop everything to take care of them if he has to.

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Im a Dirty Jean Rocker , Bad Day Haver , Smoke Stack Cougher , Licensed Embalmer, Call Up the Coroner

Dirty Jean Rocker

POSTED ON Dec 21, 2023 2:17:02 GMT

Howard was making some points. While at this point he was demoted to Soundcloud Rapper, Dylan still had a background in the medical sciences. The nepo-baby of Galar's Surgeon General. "...Mm. Well, if they aren't of this world... I want to collect samples. That green slime too."

Green slime. So unlike any pokemon he'd ever seen. Wriggled out of his hands like a worm and slipped down a drain-pipe. If it was otherworldly, he wanted to dissect it and present his findings to the world.

The dream mist. Dylan had a proustian reverie. All his dreams were there and they were so lucid he could taste the air. Grimmsnarl becoming a giant to protect him. That Beautiful Princess Disordered queen lighting a cigarette off of his. Giratina saving him from the burden of being known, whisking him away. He couldn't help but smile wide enough for Howard to see it, at the thought of it.

Dylan looked a little guilty, having gone off about security around the zones. But he had a duty to atleast know what he was talking about. "I suppose... I'm planning another trip through the mist, hypocrite I may be. I can't help but want to see it all. The skeletons there were... people who looked like they were more at peace than anyone here."

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LEAGUE HOLIDAY PARTY (MEGA SOCIAL)

POSTED ON Dec 16, 2023 6:40:54 GMT

The vibes were fucked. Fucked vibes. A gay love triangle dissolving... Seemingly, only the Kids Table was immune to this. Dylan feigned a cough, sipping at a nicotine pen he kept in the breast pocket of his flannel shirt. He held in the peppermint air until it dissipated, lest he let a cloud out.

He couldn’t help but notice something out of the corner of his eye. Yuina Higashi was there too. He’d met her very briefly, and… she looked lost. Something about the way she fished for eye contact, for something to save her, reminded him of himself when he was younger.

He’s drunk right now, he’s taking on the “you know what?” tone of voice. The motivational speech and moralizing all in one. "You shouldn’t have to be by yourself, if you don’t wanna be." His eyes misted up a little, but he held it back, and he put his hand on the counter.

"And I know what it’s like to be surrounded by people but still… alone in public. So c’mon. Hideo and I are gonna go to the tablets. Maybe that’ll show you your way forward."

He thought about it again, making a little gesture, trying not to fall too far behind from that kid while he called for her.

Then, it came time to ask for something. To ask for guidance. ”I don’t care if it’s about romance. I wanna know more about LOVE at large. About how to take my friends by the hand, and take my friends up with me, when I find it.” He held his hand on the tablet. There was a connection here. He trained with Navy, saw the Garchomp enclosure, and they were just like him.

"…Hideo. I’ll remember that. I’m Dylan, I’m the new guy on Callan Young’s record label. DJ Sorrow, Keeper of the Trees, King of the Graveyard. I’m on the gym circuit now. I’m thinking you, and then that guy Josh. I heard he was some kinda racer… Biker? I saw a Husqvarna online below msrp." He said, mulling it over.

OPEN, HOLIDAY PARTY

I wake up in the morning Like... It Don’t Matter

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