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Any of y’all watch Umbrella Academy? Breen is literally Klaus with Number Five’s abilities, lmao
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Chapatrap
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Close enough! I think it was Alex or something - he was an all black Aron with red eyes who's character arc was something along the lines of like, his parents dying or something.
lol
lol
Cookie for anyone that can name the Aron that Breen's referencing in my latest post lmao
Leaving the door open slightly ajar wasn’t exact on accident - sure, you could pretend it was all planned, Breen thinking one step ahead, eagerly awaiting his visitors - or you could just as easily remember that Charlie was on his way out and forgot to shut the door all the way. Your pick. It doesn’t matter. Light jazz sounded from the record player in the office, the light sound of cluttering and clanking heard from the inside.
Nevertheless, Breen almost sort of jumps out from behind the door, slamming it shut after yanking his guests in one at a time. Gavin. Yank. Door slam. Door open. Magma. Yank. Door slam. Door open. Donovan. Yank. Door slam.
“Oh, there’s two of you, huh? Right.”
Gren. Yank. Door slam. With a flourish of his device, he quickly runs it down, locking every possible lock on the door, before standing before it in front of his guests, adjusting his bowtie, glancing toward everyone with his upside-down 3-D specs.
“Spruce! That’s a relief - oh, I totally jumped into the wrong reality time stream then - oh! That reminds me, there’s a Wigglytuff wandering around out there alone, could someone volunteer to help him around when he’s back, keep an eye out, aw, good, thanks!”
He reaches toward Gavin, giving him a quick noogie - pausing. “Oh, wait, you’re shorter than you should be. Or taller. Right well that’s. Oh! I’ve got much to tell you all, much to show you - this is more exciting than the time we all turned into birds - you remember that, don’t you? Oh, of course you do!”
He’s running around the office, readjusting books, grabbing random supplies all willy-nilly, before returning back to the group. He reaches back up, readjusting his glasses right-side up. “And that’s because… oh. Right. Glasses." Record scratches to a stop. "Uh. You’re not Spruce. At all.” He runs his device around Gavin - the thing blinking bright yellow. “Oh, right! Yeah! You! Gavin! Nice to see you again, pal!”
The Swampert reaches into Gavin’s bag, grabbing the pointy-stick, looking over toward the rest of the group, pointing the pointer dangerously pointy at Magma. “Right, and you… “ He looks down at his device. Nothing. “Are new… definitely new… definitely… pink!” He grins, pushing his glasses closer, staring at the Salandit. “Magma, right? Of course I’m right. Salandit with a blaze in your heart.” He snickers, adjusting his bowtie. “Oooh, good one Breen, wicked good one.”
Moving on, he looks down at the two Aron, scoffing, rolling his eyes - “Oh, for fuckssake, why’s it always Aron, huh? Edgy little buggers - lemmee guess…” He leans in, digging a finger across Donovan’s face, managing some of the ‘war paint’ onto his finger before plopping that into his mouth. “Yup. Red Gummi with a bit of… oh, what is with you lot and being so damn dark, gosh, read a comic once in a while would you…”
He turns to Gren. “At least you’re well-equipped. Eyes are cool. You’re not as edgy as your buddy here, so that’s good.” He runs the device over one more time, blinking green. “Cool! You’ve got plenty to live for, pal, welcome to the guild!”
He sets his device down, before whipping Gavin’s pointy-stick at the record player - the record shattering onto the ground, another record plopping on, clicking in place - heavier, swingier jazz music playing. The stick, rebounding off an elastic, off of the wall, spinning Breen’s hat around, before nestling back in place into Gavin’s bag.
“Right! Introductions! Nice to meet you all, thanks for introducing yourselves - “ He reaches forward and shakes each one of their paws with force, before spinning back around, over toward his table, sitting down on the top of it, dangling his feet off the desk, clapping his hands together and readjusting his bowtie.
“He-ll-oo! I’m Breen. Breen Torrents. Swampert. Music enthusiast. Comic-book collector. Lover of dragons. The oncoming storm. Yadda, yadda, yadda. I’m your guildmaster! You’re my new VERY important, wicked special team. Do as I tell you. Don't ask stupid questions. Any questions?"
Everyone’s paws shoot up. “As expected.” He looks over toward his device - glowing pink, and slowly beeping… gradually getting faster and faster, louder and louder.
“Well, hurry up! I don’t have all day - don’t waste time! Trust me, it’s not as fun as it sounds!”
Nevertheless, Breen almost sort of jumps out from behind the door, slamming it shut after yanking his guests in one at a time. Gavin. Yank. Door slam. Door open. Magma. Yank. Door slam. Door open. Donovan. Yank. Door slam.
“Oh, there’s two of you, huh? Right.”
Gren. Yank. Door slam. With a flourish of his device, he quickly runs it down, locking every possible lock on the door, before standing before it in front of his guests, adjusting his bowtie, glancing toward everyone with his upside-down 3-D specs.
“Spruce! That’s a relief - oh, I totally jumped into the wrong reality time stream then - oh! That reminds me, there’s a Wigglytuff wandering around out there alone, could someone volunteer to help him around when he’s back, keep an eye out, aw, good, thanks!”
He reaches toward Gavin, giving him a quick noogie - pausing. “Oh, wait, you’re shorter than you should be. Or taller. Right well that’s. Oh! I’ve got much to tell you all, much to show you - this is more exciting than the time we all turned into birds - you remember that, don’t you? Oh, of course you do!”
He’s running around the office, readjusting books, grabbing random supplies all willy-nilly, before returning back to the group. He reaches back up, readjusting his glasses right-side up. “And that’s because… oh. Right. Glasses." Record scratches to a stop. "Uh. You’re not Spruce. At all.” He runs his device around Gavin - the thing blinking bright yellow. “Oh, right! Yeah! You! Gavin! Nice to see you again, pal!”
The Swampert reaches into Gavin’s bag, grabbing the pointy-stick, looking over toward the rest of the group, pointing the pointer dangerously pointy at Magma. “Right, and you… “ He looks down at his device. Nothing. “Are new… definitely new… definitely… pink!” He grins, pushing his glasses closer, staring at the Salandit. “Magma, right? Of course I’m right. Salandit with a blaze in your heart.” He snickers, adjusting his bowtie. “Oooh, good one Breen, wicked good one.”
Moving on, he looks down at the two Aron, scoffing, rolling his eyes - “Oh, for fuckssake, why’s it always Aron, huh? Edgy little buggers - lemmee guess…” He leans in, digging a finger across Donovan’s face, managing some of the ‘war paint’ onto his finger before plopping that into his mouth. “Yup. Red Gummi with a bit of… oh, what is with you lot and being so damn dark, gosh, read a comic once in a while would you…”
He turns to Gren. “At least you’re well-equipped. Eyes are cool. You’re not as edgy as your buddy here, so that’s good.” He runs the device over one more time, blinking green. “Cool! You’ve got plenty to live for, pal, welcome to the guild!”
He sets his device down, before whipping Gavin’s pointy-stick at the record player - the record shattering onto the ground, another record plopping on, clicking in place - heavier, swingier jazz music playing. The stick, rebounding off an elastic, off of the wall, spinning Breen’s hat around, before nestling back in place into Gavin’s bag.
“Right! Introductions! Nice to meet you all, thanks for introducing yourselves - “ He reaches forward and shakes each one of their paws with force, before spinning back around, over toward his table, sitting down on the top of it, dangling his feet off the desk, clapping his hands together and readjusting his bowtie.
“He-ll-oo! I’m Breen. Breen Torrents. Swampert. Music enthusiast. Comic-book collector. Lover of dragons. The oncoming storm. Yadda, yadda, yadda. I’m your guildmaster! You’re my new VERY important, wicked special team. Do as I tell you. Don't ask stupid questions. Any questions?"
Everyone’s paws shoot up. “As expected.” He looks over toward his device - glowing pink, and slowly beeping… gradually getting faster and faster, louder and louder.
“Well, hurry up! I don’t have all day - don’t waste time! Trust me, it’s not as fun as it sounds!”
Solid! Expect a post soon...ish!
Yo! I’ll probably have a post out tommorrow, just busy on vacation right now and trying to soak up as much sun before I go back to SNOW
“Well, that’s because HE’S Barry, looking for Barry, looking for himself, if that makes sense.”
Breen’s standing, arms crossed, staring at the affixed SOS Board in the guildmaster’s room - able to update the message board on his own accord as well as view Pokemon’s updates to the boards in real time, sorta like a schedule - powered by a team of Pelipper and Joltik and some form of mechanics. In this instance, he’s reading updates to the board - old and new - this one, just posted an hour ago regarding some Arcanine looking for his friend Barry, and another one - hardly touched, aged and tattered from years ago - with the exact same description, word for word.
“...some deep metaphorical bullcrud, really… on the surface, at least. Well, not quite. You can say all you want about how he’s probably just some poor Arcanine who’s gone mad trying to metaphorically find himself and discover true meaning - but what if he’s literally trying to find himself? A clone? Ditto?”
He’s still messing around with the SOS Board, pinning new notes and rescue team and exploration missions about the board, pulling them from a big bag of envelopes and tossing them onto the board in live updates all across the towns in some seemingly random order.
“Or maybe he just doesn’t have the time… to find himself stuck in time? Trapped after some mess with void crystals or some other reason… and in an attempt to save himself, he ends up becoming the whole reason he’s stuck there… attacking those trying to help him because, well, he doesn’t know right from wrong - why would he try to help others when he can’t even save himself? Almost like he’s his own ghost.”
He takes a step back, admiring his work on the board for a minute, adjusting his bowtie, before leaning back into the board, pressing himself up against it.
“What do you think, Spruce, huh? Do you believe in ghosts? Well, that wouldn’t make much sense to ask - you’re hearing a disembodied voice right now! And for another, ghosts aren’t real - but I very much am. I can’t hear you, but you can hear me - see, this bad boy -” He slaps the board, pinning another message on it. “Not only updates in real time, but it allows for a one-way intercom call - it was mainly used back in the day for guildmasters to directly message other guilds and guildmasters when they needed to make extreme SOS requests off the cuff without the need of paper - in the event it’s that dire and severe - but I figured this might be fun too!”
"...Wally's on his way, isn't he? Well! That WOULD mean I don't have too much time left, but I've got enough time - don't I? If he spinned he must've spun in several directions, which means he doesn't have too much a sense of direction or orientation while he's all wibbly wobbley, so I estimate that'll take him about... three and a half hours for him to finally make it back to the guild! That's more than enough time for me to save the world, isn't it?"
“Oh, and no, like I said, I have no idea what you’re saying. It might sound like I’m replying, but I’m not! Just mere coincidence if I happen to know what you’re about to say! Anywho! I’ll see you in a bit - or not - well, that’s not really up to you, really! I’ll see you soon, and before, and in the future - and well, I’m not one for introductions, but I promise you’ve met me already! At least, in one timeline or another... anyway! You oughta head to Birchwood Forest! Lovely view there, wicked lovely people, too…”
Just before he logs off, he spins around, smiling, tilting his glasses up. “Oh, and one more thing…doesn’t something seem off about the message board words? See ya soon!”
BRing mE my gummi! plEase fiNd my aWesome treASure!
2F crystal chasm 14F skylight tower
HElp! RobbErs!
1F tiny woods 5F bubble pond
Breen’s standing, arms crossed, staring at the affixed SOS Board in the guildmaster’s room - able to update the message board on his own accord as well as view Pokemon’s updates to the boards in real time, sorta like a schedule - powered by a team of Pelipper and Joltik and some form of mechanics. In this instance, he’s reading updates to the board - old and new - this one, just posted an hour ago regarding some Arcanine looking for his friend Barry, and another one - hardly touched, aged and tattered from years ago - with the exact same description, word for word.
“...some deep metaphorical bullcrud, really… on the surface, at least. Well, not quite. You can say all you want about how he’s probably just some poor Arcanine who’s gone mad trying to metaphorically find himself and discover true meaning - but what if he’s literally trying to find himself? A clone? Ditto?”
He’s still messing around with the SOS Board, pinning new notes and rescue team and exploration missions about the board, pulling them from a big bag of envelopes and tossing them onto the board in live updates all across the towns in some seemingly random order.
“Or maybe he just doesn’t have the time… to find himself stuck in time? Trapped after some mess with void crystals or some other reason… and in an attempt to save himself, he ends up becoming the whole reason he’s stuck there… attacking those trying to help him because, well, he doesn’t know right from wrong - why would he try to help others when he can’t even save himself? Almost like he’s his own ghost.”
He takes a step back, admiring his work on the board for a minute, adjusting his bowtie, before leaning back into the board, pressing himself up against it.
“What do you think, Spruce, huh? Do you believe in ghosts? Well, that wouldn’t make much sense to ask - you’re hearing a disembodied voice right now! And for another, ghosts aren’t real - but I very much am. I can’t hear you, but you can hear me - see, this bad boy -” He slaps the board, pinning another message on it. “Not only updates in real time, but it allows for a one-way intercom call - it was mainly used back in the day for guildmasters to directly message other guilds and guildmasters when they needed to make extreme SOS requests off the cuff without the need of paper - in the event it’s that dire and severe - but I figured this might be fun too!”
"...Wally's on his way, isn't he? Well! That WOULD mean I don't have too much time left, but I've got enough time - don't I? If he spinned he must've spun in several directions, which means he doesn't have too much a sense of direction or orientation while he's all wibbly wobbley, so I estimate that'll take him about... three and a half hours for him to finally make it back to the guild! That's more than enough time for me to save the world, isn't it?"
“Oh, and no, like I said, I have no idea what you’re saying. It might sound like I’m replying, but I’m not! Just mere coincidence if I happen to know what you’re about to say! Anywho! I’ll see you in a bit - or not - well, that’s not really up to you, really! I’ll see you soon, and before, and in the future - and well, I’m not one for introductions, but I promise you’ve met me already! At least, in one timeline or another... anyway! You oughta head to Birchwood Forest! Lovely view there, wicked lovely people, too…”
Just before he logs off, he spins around, smiling, tilting his glasses up. “Oh, and one more thing…doesn’t something seem off about the message board words? See ya soon!”
BRing mE my gummi! plEase fiNd my aWesome treASure!
2F crystal chasm 14F skylight tower
HElp! RobbErs!
1F tiny woods 5F bubble pond
I miiiiiight get a post out later tonight, just trying to think of how to progress lmao
The canon is reset, Breen’s now a Scorbunny
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