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STUCK UP IN MY WAYS [FW2]

POSTED ON Dec 3, 2023 12:06:20 GMT

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As much a Halloween man as he was, Dylan sat in the mail room of his apartment complex with a smile on his face. It brought back memories of being a boy. Of correcting his father speaking of buying something to say "you mean... Father Winter did that." His father, a Surgeon General in Galar. A man with a doctorate degree who had two rowdy boys at the age of forty, when his bones started to creak.

There was a tree laid out, with lines of LED lights cascading down the branches, and boxes of various sizes at its feet. He in fact had a present wrapped for someone else in his building. When he knelt below the tree to set it down, Dylan found himself falling through a hole in the floor, his gift sitting neatly on the satin skirt of the tree.

Dylan sat there, head spinning. He clutched his temples, looking down at the ground. That lavender hair of his hung over his head, neatly obscuring his fingers. He awoke to a smallish, barely furnished room in a concrete flat. The sun was setting over Mossdeep City. Off in the horizon, as the sun sank into the concrete, plumes of fire rose up.

A familiar pair of sunken in eyes looks to him, ringed with sleepless nights he couldn't count. Dylan slowly looked up, seeing him eye to eye. The two of them felt their eyes light up, and Dylan had to confirm that this wasn't some dream. Something only he would know. "On Navidson's wall we wrote..." "Your ideals are only as strong as you are in fighting for them. And do you know what else you told him? I'm gonna fight for what I wanna be."

His voice had even more of a smoky tinge. He sounded like a boy and an old man all at once. "Now Dylan..." The older man looked down at him and tilted his head. It's been ages since he's felt or even looked like that. "You're gonna sit this one out." He looked up in shock, but the older man's face didn't falter. It was every bit as peaceful and placid as his, but weathered by time. The older man pointed him to a laptop, as if to tell the boy to go back to his toys. As he shot to his feet and had more questions, he was knocked out with a kick to the head.

FATHER WINTER

Feelin' hostile, I'ma stain, come drive me away

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dylan's gacha

POSTED ON Dec 3, 2023 10:31:06 GMT

Keeping Goomy, Boltund, Ditto, Charmander, and Rampardos.

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

POSTED ON Dec 1, 2023 23:28:14 GMT

His concern was real, but his understanding of time travel was only undergirded by pop culture. "I’ve seen a few. Do they directly come forward from our past? They’re outliers, for now, and that’s fine. My biggest fear is that enough of them will be adopted, killed in service of people’s ambitions and conflict with others, or failing to adapt to modern ecosystems in the wild. Could we see an extinction of Phanpy, Foongus, or Bagon?"

Howard set aside his briefcase. All the while, Dylan held his bookbag in his hand, as it sat just above his knee. Like his clothes, it appeared to be one size too big, like he was hiding in it.

The wilds and the borders took him to the past shorn of any romanticization from the present. These experiences continued to haunt him. All the while, Dylan had slowly been amassing a cadre of experts, people who could train him until he could confront his fears. His dark-ringed eyes stood in for sleepless nights and anxieties he couldn’t fight yet.

Dylan felt as though he changed the tenor of the lecture and the room at large, and glanced aside, with a pang of guilt.. That and... the ownership of Paradox Pokemon. "...I’ve also seen machines that copy them. Volcanion, Thievul, and some… third thing. Divorced of feelings, sleeping, and eating. All they can do is kill for a kingdom that already fell. And I'm sure it's the future of war here."

howard slayte

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

POSTED ON Dec 1, 2023 7:41:00 GMT

They were speaking the same language here. There was a wry smile, matching his hearty laugh. "Coulda been me, too. I went to med school. I'm an... artist by trade now, so I just go to guest lectures for the love of the game."

The two of them stood there, each clutching their backpacks. Dylan's messenger bag hung off him just above the knee, and seemed to sway as he moved his neck.

He was a legacy admission, a would-be mortician, son of a surgeon. To liken himself to Howard here was a little... off. Furthermore: His hobby started making more money than his apprenticeship. He was too good at and had too much fun making... halloween music every year. If nobody clicked on his music videos he would've been consoling grieving families by now.

Dylan glanced aside for a second at his question. He thought to the thousands of mechanical Volcanion, some of whom nearly killed him. That and... the ownership of Paradox Pokemon. The human pursuit and abuse of their power. He chose his words very carefully. "...I don't have problems with pokemon. I had a Mightyena growing up. It's the way people seek out and misuse their power that gets me."

howard slayte

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i hope they believe in me

POSTED ON Nov 30, 2023 8:59:58 GMT

Dylan turned to face him. His eyes made it clear sleep was a foreign concept to him. Save for that though, his face was youthfully smooth. Dylan feigned a cough, taking a long drag off a nicotine pen in his sleeve. He held it in, trying to let the mist dissipate before speaking.

He didn't think he'd get this far, really. But if nothing else, he was emboldened and wanted to go down the list. Speaking of. Kazimir addressed him, and Dylan nodded. "Yeah. I... know which way the wind is blowing, and I don't wanna get swept up in the breeze."

The sight of Kazimir's Urshifu made his eyes widened. He thought for a minute. Was he ready, or... In either case, Dylan pulled up the texts and held the phone screen to Kazimir. "I'm Dylan, I'm the latest to beat Navidson's gym. He'd been training me for a while now. And I still feel like I'm not there yet. So... I looked up the other names on his wall of fame online."

Kazimir Wynter

Im Living for the dead
I Hope they believe In Me

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processed shop

POSTED ON Nov 30, 2023 4:32:59 GMT

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PURCHASING/REDEEMING

welcome to the poké mart!

5X Gacha (50 PD)

HARVESTING

be sure to visit the pretty petal flower shop near rustboro!

1X berry

TOTAL

do come again!

250 PD

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

POSTED ON Nov 30, 2023 2:39:46 GMT

There are always dissenters. What did that make Dylan. He glanced aside, having come into this conversation with a karmic debt. He had a fear of what "power" looked like following his foray into the Wilds, which led to fasttracking his Eevee's evolution and growth, and woe betide his Skeledirge.

The lecture ended, with students slowly peeling out of the room. They ascended the stairs, exiting the "pit" of the lecture hall.

Truth be told, Dylan had the brain to be a Rocket. The thing stopping it is he'd like to fight them too. He didn't know who could actually be trusted with enough power to kill a man, to level a city. In another life, Dylan could've been his assistant, to protect the world from devastation and unite the worlds within our nation.

Dylan perked up, stepping beside his desk and descending the steps. He approached Howard, stopping with five feet of space between them. He leaned on the professor's desk off an arm like a bike's kickstand. "...Dylan. Sayer. I didn't mean to disturb your lecture, Professor... Slayte?"

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i hope they believe in me

POSTED ON Nov 29, 2023 9:46:13 GMT

Dylan's... not taking his powerlessness well. The idea that he could hypothetically be killed, too late to save a loved one, his beloved forests being scarred didn't sit well. He spent the past three months growing and training, and just barely measured above the Volcanion that nearly killed him the second time they clashed.

Michael Navidson 's wall of fame was an incredible resource, then. While Dylan thumbed his nose at the idea of working with the Rangers, he had a good list of people to bounce ideas off of and train with. To that end, a series of texts was fired off. From the DJ Sorrow account he posts his music with, but still. The gist was: I heard you're pretty strong, and I need your help. Can you set aside time to train, or even just advice.

The fields near Mauville were, unapologetically, his backyard. The treeline was in sight, but so were the concrete slabs with corners sanded off. Dylan waited in his all black denim ensemble, lavender hair fanning out like a dandelion's petals in the breeze.

Dylan checked his phone, not impatient, but nervous.

Kazimir Wynter

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I Hope they believe In Me

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I woke up this mornin, Still above the ground

Flowers [GYM]

POSTED ON Nov 28, 2023 21:18:25 GMT

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Their battle drew to a close. This victory was something he didn't account for. He'd fully expected to be stuck with Navy's Empoleon, frozen and sitting there on the field. In either case, he didn't call his dog back. "If you could put me in touch with people like that or send a list, that'd be great. I'd even work with the rangers, or be a gym trainer here. I'm looking into people in academia too. Professor howard slayte is on my radar."

If he died it'd be a horrific accident, or by his hand. Dylan had enough near-death experiences to know that. The lights came on, causing him to squint as his eyes adjusted. As the two of them walked down, the granite wall was plain to see. Not just quotes, but names put to them. Matter of fact... this could settle for a list of people to network with. He looked to Navy for approval first, but Dylan took a picture of the wall.

Dylan shook up a pale purple canister of spray paint. His message was straightforward, for all the starry-eyed people out there like him. "Your ideals are only as strong as you are in fighting for them."

Team: Pangoro Mold Breaker / Night Slash, Work Up, Hammer Arm, Bullet Punch, Crunch, Vital Throw. || Empoleon Torrent / Metal Claw, Drill Peck, Brine, Swords Dance, Swagger, Aqua Jet.

Michael Navidson

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I woke up this mornin, Still above the ground

Flowers [GYM]

POSTED ON Nov 28, 2023 9:33:59 GMT

Navy would've been Dylan's age... six years ago. And even then... Dylan threw himself at all this about... a year ago. The Water Pulse grazed Okami at the very least, leading Dylan to stare more intensely.

He couldn't help but be calm here. The rigid, unfeeling machines weren't in sight. "Ōkami! Now's your chance. Use Crunch again." The wolf closed in, zig-zagging across the field. With this small window, Dylan clenched his fists until his knuckles ran white. If he folded here, would actual war kill him?

Dylan's eyes narrowed. He couldn't help but concede that he just did not think practically until very recently. That this lesson was necessary. "And to tell you the truth, I was never good at battling either. This is my first time issuing commands. I'm "free range" at all times with them. You saw that side of me. Making Espeon had me in tears."

Team: Pangoro Mold Breaker / Night Slash, Work Up, Hammer Arm, Bullet Punch, Crunch, Vital Throw. || Empoleon Torrent / Metal Claw, Drill Peck, Brine, Swords Dance, Swagger, Aqua Jet.

Michael Navidson

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MECHANICAL KINGDOM: AD

POSTED ON Nov 28, 2023 7:58:32 GMT

Life going on without them. As solace, Dylan only had the knowledge that his friends were just like him, either reluctantly or obsessively thrown at danger in this specific way. The only thing this single, childless man would miss is the lack of cell reception, the lack of a Group DM.

Dylan's Grimmsnarl clapped a hand on his shoulder, sizing up Aubre's Swampert. With her calling off the axolotl's implied threat, Dylan did the same, holding Grimmsnarl's gnarled, muscled hand.

"...Your daughter. I mean, I know this is hard, but she's waiting for you. And that's all the more reason for us to tough it out." He said, all the while glancing aside. Would any of his friends notice he was gone? They certainly didn't last time. He bit his lip at the thought of it. People waiting for you to come home. Aubre could see his eyes go glassy, but he scrunched them up and smothered his tears in the crib.

His experience with patrols was... they nearly killed him, over and over. And frankly, that incessant ticking noise was setting him on edge. Dylan wanted to fight everything here. The two of them walked their way towards a manor to the east, Dylan's Grimmsnarl walking aside the two. "I saw this green... slime. Not sure how else to describe it. I'm a med student; I wanted to take it home and pick it apart, and analyze it. Chasing it lead these three pokemon to attack me. Fire and water type? They had bodies like Aggron. I'm unsure of their name. My friends had to bail me out."

And then the door swung open. A line of Thievul bearing axes walked to the beat of the clock ticking in the back. Then, Aubre gripped his hand, turning his knuckles white. Dylan took a bow. He looked aside from a second.

The ticking was perfectly even, a good 4/4. He used her hand gripping his to pull her aside, doing a simple quickstep. He was so far afield from anything formal or ballroom, but this was adjacent to it. Done with all the awkwardness of a child at a formal event, moving his feet to the same rhythm at double-time. He'd hope with little nods and finger twitches to clue her into quarter-turns and little leg-kicks at the air. "..."

Aubre McKenna-Settentrione

i think i'm losin it

07. blend in

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

POSTED ON Nov 27, 2023 10:32:54 GMT

Dylan's... materialist oversimplifying gave way to something much more disappointing: in-fighting between royals. People utterly sheltered from the consequences of their actions, save for being killed by someone gunning for a higher spot in their already lofty place in the world. He went quiet, writing down the key points.

He wrote with all the conviction of putting names in the Death Note. Mass ceremonial graves. War of succession. Disconnect between people and pokemon -> disconnect between people and nature (?). He then flipped the page over, expanding on this train of thought, beyond lecture/citation/research later.

Mechanical Kingdom. Besieged castle. Dining hall, nobles all dead. Volcanion still lurking, killing god knows how many people. That was the ruins of another battlefield, sure. We are all capable of this, and capable of being their prey.

Dylan looked up, having spent a third of a page of notes, and a full page of organizing his own thoughts on the subject matter.

He blinked, having a brief pause. "...What have you noticed about their relationship to power and pokemon, versus ours?"

howard slayte

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POSTED ON Nov 25, 2023 8:24:34 GMT

Dylan had an American college, Cornell University Notes approach. He had main talking points of the lecture in the center of his notebook page. Citations in the left margin, terms to look up later in the right margin. So far he had: Kalos and Galar war. Romanticized. <-Tactics on the field. Révolution de l'Empire. -> General Clarkwell.

The overall tone and tenor held his wrapt attention. Dylan felt like he was listening to Inebriated History, a man relitigating centuries old wars from the perspectives of the armies, the peasantry of the respective countries, and the generation after playing with the spoils.

He sat there, the little apple-polisher, waiting in silence. His pencil worked with the rhythm and precision of a sewing machine, producing the least legible handwriting of all time.

Dylan looked up, swelling with pride. He was often one to fly off the handle, to wildly misinterpret things. And Navy's "look for experts in their field, seek out other mentors" turned into "go back to college."

He blinked, having a brief pause. "...Galar is an island-nation, while Kalos has thousands of meters more arable land and is land-locked. Was this a war over resources?"

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LETTERS TO FATHER WINTER THE 2ND

POSTED ON Nov 24, 2023 0:42:56 GMT

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Dear Father Winter,[break][break]

I hope this letter finds you well. I'm much more of a Halloween-head myself, but getting to celebrate Wintertide with friends and family is something nobody should miss out on.[break]

What do I want for Wintertide? I'm tired of being left behind by my peers. Left in the dust. Abandoned, while everyone does all the real fighting, the wars and the uphill battles against nature. I only wish for the strength to protect everyone, even if it kills me to use it.[break]

What do I want to change in my past? I regret not coming to Hoenn sooner. I was stuck in an ugly little exurb of a larger Galarian city. Everyone says they wish they started what they were doing earlier, and it feels like I only really started today.[break]

What do I want to change in my present? I'm so conflicted, and lonely. I have gotten everything I wanted save for what I wished to you for, but I still can't find my place in the world.[break]

What do I want for my future? I want Tempest Quinn to dm me back. I think he's hot.[break]

I know you will be receiving thousands of letters, but I hope that mine finds it way into your hands. This isn't the first Wintertide I've spent by myself, and hopefully next year goes over better.[break]

Enclosed is his mailing address, Mauville, and zip-code. [break]

Sincerely, [break]

Dylan Sayer [break][break]

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