silph_co | (no subject)

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Who: Tyler Huang and OTA
Where: Goldenrod Rocket Base
When: Early March!
Summary: Baby Rocket. baby
Rating: PG-13, with some casual swearing

Log: It's a fucking blessing that he's already met Steven, and gotten a hand from him with all of the training stuff. Sure it makes things about twice as long as they probably would be otherwise, but at least he actually comprehends all of the pointless mass speeches he's being dunked into. Which, uh. It's not nice but at least he's not going to get punished for really basic, stupid shit.

It does also mean, though, that so far he's making very little attempts to appeal to the good will of the other Rockets. From what Steven's told him, the only ones worth actually caring about are the other ones who got sucked in from other worlds - but since he's only gotten names, not faces, he has no idea who they're supposed to be.

He's easy enough to find in the mess halls - big guys stand out a bit, especially when the Natu sitting on his shoulder hops up onto his head and starts sending random people evil(? it's hard to tell) looks around the room. But usually, whenever he gets a free chance, he'll be back in the training halls, working on hand signals with his Houndour. If he can train it well enough now, then it'll be smart enough to fight in future without needing to glance back at him every few seconds.

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Other Rockets of any significance can be hard to pick out. Most of them are pretty normal human beings, at least as far as personal appearance.

'Most' is the operative word here, though, because a couple (like Jack and his entire face) really stand the fuck out, even in a world where all the cops have identically blue hair (and that's the least weird thing about them.)

Dirk doesn't stand out that much, alterations to his Rocket uniform aside. Not a fan of long sleeves, that man. And his is a fingerless gloves only look. The triangle shades are just... very anime of him. But, you know, don't make accidental eye contact with his tattoo and he's just another guy, probably?

Maybe not to a Natu, though. Psychic types, as a rule, have a distinctly negative reaction to his presence. He's gotten very familiar with the outcomes of that, so when he heads into the training halls, he stops dead about half a second into his stride.

"Son of a bitch."

It's mostly thanks to his unique take on the Rocket uniform that Tyler gives Dirk more than just a dismissive look as he walks in - he seems like he'd be a good looking guy without the shades - before he notices how Isis has poofed up as big as her feathers will allow her, shivering beneath them, and is straight-up glaring at Dirk with some kind of horror.

Tyler looks up at the perfectly normal looking sleeves-are-bullshit guy and frowns in confusion.

Like a photo taken seconds before disaster, really.

It's not that he doesn't get it. He does. Really. Whatever it is Psychic Pokemon are picking up when he's around... they're basically looking into a mind of actual God. Or the two dimensional slice thereof inside his skull, cut from a non-Euclidean model of unbounded meta-reality. So, even fucking worse. It's almost reassuring to know it's (he's) Real enough to have an effect.

It's also real fucking inconvenient.

Dirk wasn't actually thrown into some kind of Strife, but he's not counting on that.

There's a disconnected train of thought that's observing just how much goofier an already orb-shaped bird looks when it's all fluffy like that. Which isn't helpful. It looks really fucking goofy, though.

And his hardwired instinct is still to ready himself to fight, as in fighting it himself, but that's not a practical reaction. More practically, he puts a hand on one of the Pokeballs on his belt, the corners of his mouth pulling down distinctly.

"Put that thing away. Now."

...this guy is making Tyler's bird flip out, and his response to that is to... go on the offensive?

Tyler doesn't put Isis away, but he does give Dirk an extremely incredulous look.

And then lifts his hands to sign pointedly. "I'm deaf, dumb-ass."

Edited 2020-03-04 05:47 (UTC)

Yep. Dirk's experience is that being ready and willing to take out a thing before it tries to take you out is a one-size-fits-all best policy, regardless of whys.

So far, though, no one is actively attempting to take anyone out. Yet.

".... God shitting fuck--"

He knows what sign language is. He even knows there are multiple sign languages, and if he had his own full ascended oceanic literality of self, Hal's supercomputer 'I read the whole internet' faster-than-thought AI brain might even enable him to know how to sign himself. Wouldn't that have been helpful.

But the face this guy is making, he doesn't need to know the specifics. He gets the fucking gist.

Retrieving his PokeGear, typing, then holding it up for easy reading: at no point in this process do his eyes leave the bird. Not that anyone could reasonably tell.

Put the bird away. Now.

The bird can tell. Not that she can read, but the fluffing somehow gets a little more intense when the arm gets stuck out in her direction.

Tyler can see that, at least, and while he's a little bit reluctant to actually do it, at least he still has his Houndour out, sitting by his ankles and watching the display in confusion.

Okay, fine. He pulls a Pokeball out of his pocket, and Isis doesn't even see it as he boops the bird into a red flash of energy to withdraw her.

Still holding the ball, he uses his right hand - right middle finger specifically - to tap under his eye and flick it away rather aggressively, with a look of annoyed confusion. "What the fuck was that?"

The instant the little bird is gone, Dirk relaxes. Not totally, because frankly this whole mess is one metric second away from ending in total embarrassment.

But apparently he doesn't need to understand sign language in order to understand this guy loud and clear. Speaking of hostility.

Why the hell is he getting the middle finger? Like he had any control over this stupid...

His frown lapses into blank stoicism while he types; once paired with the text, it makes for a somewhat bizarre combo.

Peachick is Psychic. I'm not real popular with that demographic on account of the huge meat housed in my deadly handsome skull.

...well, between the outfit and the attitude it feels more than likely that this guy is an import too.

Is it a power play to grab someone's phone out of their hands, write up an insult and throw the gear back so they're forced to catch it before it hits the ground so they're forced to read it?

Either way, Tyler's doing it to Dirk.

So what you're admitting to me is that your attitude is such a boiled-over piece of garbage that my bird is a Geiger counter and your brain is ground zero at Hiroshima.

It's a power play, all right.

Dirk has a split second to decide whether or not he's going to punch this dude in the face before he loses his 'Gear, but let's be honest: Dirk's ability to have a fucking thought is an absolute disaster these days, and the decision about making a decision takes longer than losing his 'Gear does. He catches it midair with one hand on the return, though. So that's some salvaged pride.

Reading the burn, he deems it almost worthy of a Strider.

Typing his own message, he tosses it right back to the guy--still one handed.

My brain is ground zero all right, shit makes 'War of the Worlds' look like the space shuttle Columbia. My attitude, on the other hand, is fresher than a farmer's market cucumber and twice as cool.

All of which are able to be taken down by a single piece of nondescript reality that got overlooked by the higher beings in control of it all through sheer ego. Got it.

Good to know.

Your attitude should've been left on the vine to mature a bit more so people don't have to deal with your crunchy asshole wasting space at the dinner table.

There are plenty of jokes to be made about the immune system in a foreign environment, sure. But it's a well known tautology where I'm from that the first solution to any given problem is my personal decapitation. You might want to write that one down for later, by the way. You never know when it'll come in handy.

More importantly, I give you a perfectly good cucumber, and the only thing you can think to do with it is serve me up a salad?

You can do better than that. Wiggle it around a little, really explore the space. Get creative.

He raises his eyebrow at the tautology comment, and takes it probably a lot better than someone should on reading that.

Personal decapitation's pretty lowball for a first solution, I think I'll pass. I'm more used to convoluted bullshit that EVENTUALLY leads to someone's inevitable demise over a period of days if not weeks.

...he's also not sure if that return cucumber comment is supposed to be flirting or just generally stupid.

Sue me, I know what I like to do with my cucumbers and personally I'm not too fond of being the one on the receiving end of their bullshit.

Edited 2020-03-08 03:40 (UTC)

The cucumber bit was a test. No real purpose besides seeing if this guy picked up on it. If he hadn't, Dirk would have kept going, pushing it a little further until either Beethoven here figured it out or he was full-on writing freeform pornography in produce metaphor.

Since he obviously has, however, Dirk reverses his strategy, playing dumb instead.

Oh yeah? Ever put one next to a sleeping cat? Shit's hilarious.

This isn't really what he came here to do. Or more accurately phrased, this really isn't what he came here to do. Hiroshima is a very Earth-specific reference, so he's certain this man was a real person at some point, but does it matter?

He'll give this guy one or two more passes with the 'Gear first. He's kinda fun to fuck with.

That reply gets him to actually look up from the 'gear, to give Dirk a dry look.

So if we take a moment to return back to our original metaphor of 'this is your brain on [insert ridiculous sample here]', the cucumber is you. Which means I would greatly prefer it if you kept your inane monstrosity of a headspace to yourself and at least three feet away from me at all times.

Fuck you it's innuendo town now, bitches.

Edited 2020-03-08 05:42 (UTC)

Dirk is more than capable of eyeballing three feet exactly, and he steps back with exaggerated movements until he is precisely that far away from this guy. Once he's stopped, he lifts the 'Gear again to show, eyebrows possibly raised a microscopic degree... or maybe not. Maybe that's his usual deadpan, just a little further away?

Only three feet? Nah. It'll take more than three feet of space between you and me if you pop that bird back out. About like this.

Then he pockets the 'Gear and walks out of the training room, around the corner, and... out of sight. He's gone. He just up and fucking left.

Dirk may not (or may, he can't fully tell with how shit this guy's face is) raise an eyebrow, but Tyler does at the precision with which he moves back three feet. He barely gets to read the reply message before Dirk just.

Leaves.

...you know what, he's impressed. He'll take that L.

Ever since Connie committed to being Jack's henchman Rocket (whatever that entails), she's been making a point to introduce herself to newbies just in case they were another mildly intelligent import that she could forge an alliance with.

(Somewhere, in the back of her mind, Connie's just a bit worried about how cutthroat she's becoming.)

So she stops next to Tyler's table and gestures towards the seat next to him, saying, "Hey, mind if I take a seat?"

He doesn't look up at her voice, though Isis does, the Natu watching her curiously; the gesture in the corner of his vision is what catches Tyler's attention and makes him look up, quickly tracking the situation.

He doesn't say anything, but he does scoot his chair aside slightly so there's space for Connie to sit next to him, and Isis hops from his shoulder onto the table, staring at Connie the whole while.

Connie sits down and begins piling into her food with unusual ferocity—she'd been training with Caledfwlch and Caliburn (as well as their other halves, Caladbolg and Carnwennan) for hours beforehand, and she needed to take a break.

"What's your name, if you don't mind me asking? I'm Connie, one of the imports."

He has to stare for a moment as she talks. This girl seems way too young to be a rocket, she barely looks any older than, what, fifteen? Fuck, she's younger than his sister.

And-- oh, she hasn't actually stopped talking. Iris starts staring at her from Tyler's shoulder, as he turns to look down at his Pokegear and type up a message: very quickly, so he can show it to the girl.

I'm not ignoring you, I'm deaf. I have no idea what you were saying to me just now.

I'm Tyler. I arrived like two days ago.

Edited 2020-03-05 03:38 (UTC)

"Oh!" Connie startles, then blushes. Who would've thought she could turn into such a motormouth (not really but close) when she was trying to butter people up? She opens her mouth to say something, pauses, then types out on her own gear:

I'm so sorry, I didn't realize ^^;

I know a bit of ASL, but not enough to carry a conversation unfortunately.

Anyways, I'm Connie, one of the imports.

Edited 2020-03-06 05:26 (UTC)

Oh that's where he knows her face. He lights up a bit at making the connection.

It's not a disability you can tell by looking, so. But I don't actually know much ASL, only bits and pieces. I use Taiwan and Australian sign language.

Nice to meet you, Connie. I saw your costume make-up video from a couple of weeks ago. I've worked with stage productions before, it looked really good.

Connie's eyes likewise begin sparkling at the compliment, and she begins hammering out a response with record speed.

Thanks! I'm glad you like it, it takes a lot of work to get in and out of. But it's worth it; I mean, it's a lot more effective than a domino mask, and it looks cool as hell.

Do you have any tips?

God she's cute. Adopted. Done.

Learn to sew. That sounds facetious but if you can work some velcro straps into what you've got going on, you could make it a straight-up tearaway costume for easy egress.

Is she... is she actually taking notes? Yep, Connie is absolutely taking notes on a little notepad. D'aw.

That's a good point, I'll make sure to start practicing soon! It's a shame Pearl isn't here anymore, she was always so good at handiwork so she could help me learn.

She looks at the Natu, pauses, then taps out,

Is it okay if I scritch your Natu a little bit?

The Natu looks back at her, and down at the 'gear when Connie hands it back over. Tyler looks back at Isis, giving the bird a little scratch; and Isis finally hops off his shoulder and onto the table, so she can sit next to Connie's plate and stare at her expectantly.

Tyler shows her the text: Isis says yes. And then takes it back again so he can continue.

I haven't done any sewing stuff in a while, that was always something my sisters did, or my friends. But I've picked up enough tips from watching them that I should be able to give you a hand if you want it.

Connie begins scritching Isis, smiling at the adorable psychic bird. The orbness. It's entrancing.

I'd really appreciate that! I'm normally out and about in my friend Carly's caravan; I'm just making a brief stop back here to drop off some goods. Could you still do lessons over video?

The roundest of borbs keeps staring at Connie as she pats it, but soon Isis's gaze is unfocusing a bit, and as she sinks into the lovely scritchy fingers they start actually closing. Tyler can't help grinning at the sight a little.

I think I could. It'd probably be easier at a computer or something instead of using these, since I'd be able to type as well, but it'd totally be possible. Maybe he should see if portable keyboards are a thing.

While Tyler's sitting at the table, a familiar notepad will slide in front of him, which reads Got you something.

If he looks up, he'll see that Steven's there (as suspected by his handwriting) and he's holding out a bag that says GOLDENROD DEPARTMENT STORE. Inside is a warm wool peacoat in navy blue.

There's a gift receipt too, in case he got the size wrong.

Edited 2020-03-04 10:01 (UTC)

He really has to get his own notepad. Or at least Steven's phone number or something, he's such a fast texter.

The notepad gets him to look up, and before he meets Steven's face he's already spotted the department store bag being offered to him, and takes it with a note of hesitation to pull it closer and open it up to inspect.

Isis also hops into the bag as he does, nestling into the collar of the folded coat immediately, and Tyler manages to find the tag around the fluffball watching Steven from inside the bag. That... if it works like sizing he's used to, that ought to fit him just fine. (And if the pricing works how Yen does, then he owes Steven a lot.)

He looks back up at Steven with a pleased, somewhat bashful grin and lifts his hand to his chin to tap thank you at him, before he goes for the notepad. You didn't have to do that. Even if he's still smiling warmly as he hands the pad back.

Steven smiles back and shrugs.

De nada, he writes. And don't worry. Team Rocket's footing the bill. I did the paperwork and everything. Besides, I had to get Lydia something that wasn't a uniform, because she'd come in with only a cloak, so it's only fair I got you something too and it's unnecessarily cold these day. And I hadn't seen a winter coat when I was getting the last of my stuff from your room.

Edited 2020-03-04 10:27 (UTC)

It was autumn back in Melbourne. It seems like I might need this here, though, if it gets closer to zero at any point. Tyler does not do all that well in above- or below-average temperatures.

While he writes, Isis hops back out of the bag and, with a frantic flapping of her tiny wings, back onto the table so she can stare at the notepad, then stare at Steven some more for good measure. She still hasn't blinked yet.

Is there anything I can do in return for that? I'd feel bad having such an expensive gift without being able to pay it back. Or forward, or what have you.

Nothing yet that I can think of. Why don't we just say you'll owe me a favor down the line?

He nods courteously at the little bird.

It was September back in San Diego. And it only snows in the mountains where I come from, so being here was a shock.

Isis... blinks.

Tyler's hand hovers for a few seconds before he commits to his sentence.

I don't think I've ever seen real snow. It's not like Melbourne doesn't get cold but it's coastal. Too low down.

Edited 2020-03-04 21:42 (UTC)

Same with San Diego. But I've been to the mountains a couple times. I even went to Tahoe once. Goldenrod is coastal too, but if you go inland for whatever reason, there's more snow than you'll ever need to see.

This will be great for places that snow all year round. He knows those are a thing, he just. Hasn't encountered them personally.

He shifts the bag in his lap to keep it from falling out, and then watches as Isis hops back in to snuggle down. He adds a fresh line with a wry smile: It must be good if it's Pokemon approved, right?

Steven smiles back. Should be, he writes. It said it was made from imported Dubwool... wool.

Edited 2020-03-05 11:37 (UTC)

He frowns at the reply note. And takes the pen to circle the word 'Dubwool' and adds a question mark over it.

I think it's a foreign kind of sheep pokemon. Like Merino? Not necessarily a direct analog, though.

He pulls a face at reading that. It'd be a sneer if it wasn't closer to 'look at that bad pun you made, you should feel bad'.

There's going to be a lot of semi-analogous shit like that, isn't there?

Yep. Like I mentioned, before we got caught up in realizing we're from the same world, there's weird versions of pop culture from back home here. Like the Smashing Pumpkaboos or Seismitoad And The Wet Sprocket or Counting Murkrows or Hootie and the Qwilfish...

... or in an attempt to not date me horribly, Taylor Shiftry. The song 'Trouble' in our own world doesn't have actual goat screams in it, does it? Because the Gogoat samples are definitely the weird part of an otherwise catchy song.

The second paragraph scores Steven one (1) incredibly dry look, and when Tyler writes his next sentence he holds the notepad up with both hands for Steven to read in the air.

I don't know how you expect me to tell the difference.

He holds it there for a few seconds, before he adds another line beneath it.

Allegedly it was human singing and the goats were just a meme.

Steven drags a hand down his face.

Fuck. I'm an idiot sometimes. Thank you for clearing that up.

He holds up Yeah you are. with a broad smile on his face.

On the plus side I now know that most of my memes will be perfectly functional for you with minimal translation.

Great. Amazing.

But he's smiling a little too. Someone Tyler's age who 'speaks' in memes? It's what his life was lacking.

I feel so privileged to be in touch with the youths.

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He thinks he's so cool

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