lilycove sleeps.

for a city, it's awfully quiet this time of night. adele half-wonders if it is more tourist than it is resident. the streetlamps guide the way back to their hotel. most of the businesses turned out their lights before they'd ever reached this street corner, though they spy the distant, but inviting lights of the department store just over the hill. when they blink, the windows blink back too as if in greeting. if they're lucky, they'll find a bar. if they're luckier, they'll find someone who can buy them a drink.

adele isn't lucky by a long shot.

instead, they hear a loud, strangled cry of something that sounds halfway to human but isn't as they walk. ignore it, because they can't do anything about it either way. not their job. not their circus. not their mankeys.

not their problem to deal with.

their steps fall a little faster. there it goes again, the wailing louder. not human. probably a pokemon. not any pokemon that they know. home was always full of those. little odd and quiet pleas. sometimes, it was people mourning. most of the time, it was pokemon realizing that they weren't what they thought they were.

adele walks a little faster.

it cries again, louder, and their tired mind works ahead.

were there pokemon that mimicked crying? pretended to be? break room trivia doesn't serve their memory well. their fault for thinking the reading out of dex entries was inane. it screams, louder, and their pace slows to a stop at the mouth of an alleyway and their gaze falls on the retreated back of a stranger and asks outloud unconsciously: "is everything alright?"

cassidy

somehow, they knew waking up was a bad idea.

nothing was exceptionally different. just the same procedures and protocols that they droned on about in the event of an emergency. exits are there. try to avoid breaking windows. leave your things behind. avoid confrontation unless absolutely necessary. barricade yourself inside with the furniture until rescue teams could arrive. whatever. the thought occurs briefly that they wouldn't really need to hear these more than once a year if the league stopped painting a target on the doors of a building that was mostly civilians.

it never really feels like they're the ones who suffer for it. no one likes to hear that.

adele idly picks at their cuticles.

their pinky bleeds a little.

it's always going to be people like them. them, and this spunky little ranger trying her best to engage patent indifference to keep them up to date. a few weeks ago, it'd been fires. last tuesday, it'd been about floods and tsunamis. yesterday, earthquakes. every eventuality was possible when you co-existed with little monsters that could reshape the earth they stood on as they knew it. monsters is thought with just a touch of fondness, still. it's fine. an hour-long seminar about safety was doable.

what wasn't is being called upon for a demonstration.

adele glances up slowly, staring down robin's index finger like it was the barrel end of a gun. "volunteers are—" voluntary, as is implied in the word. don't sigh. don't make it obvious. they step out of the crowd and shuffle towards the center of the room at her invitation. pokeballs click together as they settle in and they pluck one after another off their snap locks. upon release, each look to their owner, then back to the stranger girl beside them. "alright, now what?"

robin coello

they didn't even like cider. they don't even know why they ordered one when all logic said they would've been better off with water. their eyes flick to him, then back ahead to the vendor, who pretends to not see them pleading with their eyes for an out. nervous tick. they hope it doesn't show. he seems like the type that would insist that they should have a drink. they've been to enough work outings to know.

maybe they're being unfair.

he just kind of looks like that kind of a person.

he was just that kind of a person. you're being unreasonable—nevermind. he won't let them leave.

they're not being unfair and the discomfort shows. sharp shoulder pinch together unintentionally, a half-open mouth sharpening into something halfway between a smile and a frown: they poorly conceal it with another nervous sip made with zero eye contact. the houndour staring doesn't help their nerves or their embarrassment anymore. another thoughtful sip. still too sour. still too sharp. not enough spice.

why does it feel worse being judged by a pokemon than it does by a person?

( their own sit dormant inside of their pokeballs hanging from a belt chain, unwelcome as to keep any of them from making things worse. )

"maybe," adele answers plainly, rigidly allowing the cup to return to the countertop. no point in pretending he was entirely pleasant to be around. index and middle finger taps the perimeter of the heated trays in a ' v ' and mochi kinchaku is exchanged in turn. maybe they should just eat. "you're easier to talk to online." they heft the pouch up off their plate and bite down, broth gushing out the sides. adele lifts a hand to catch it. just keep eating.

makes them think less.

"less of," a vague gesture with their dripping hand, "this. more of ..." another pause, and a thinly veiled attempt at trying to think of a word that didn't just point blank say he was a dick in-game. they take another bite instead.

Aris van der Veld

a twitch of a frown curves on their lips.

fingertips stall over the keys again. they didn't know people still even used hella. "YEAH, ME TOO." enter, typing, backspace, backspace, backspace. their caps key still won't unstick. another thing to replace. also another thing that's annoying but not impossible: something to fix but at the back of their to-do list. an endless, endless to-do list. "ANOTHER ERRAND?" a harder enter, pause, then they keep typing. less accusatory, less judgmental.

dee works for a stupid company.

adele does too.

just with more government clearance checks.

their chatot preens on the perch just beside them in reality. "DIDN'T YOU JUST GET BACK?" a breathless laugh to themself as they hastily type out their next message. "THEY MIGHT AS WELL JUST STRAP YOU TO A CORVIKNIGHT AT THIS RATE. HOPING THEY AT LEAST PAY FOR TSA PRE-CHECK." complaint is easy to lapse into when they get the chance to talk as adele disregards what they can only assume is more lag until a lone message pops up on bakingfeuille's behalf: oh ****. they don't even get to turn before the game unfairly lapses back into real time and the hulking quadruped behind them takes a heavy swing.

their avatar goes flying across the map, conversation exchanged for their glaive as they catch themself mid-air but manage to do little else to stifle the blow. their health was—well, it'd be fine. a couple of powders or potions. radial menu opens and they lock into an animation, scattering orange dust to boost their defense. "REGRETTING NOT LEARNING HAMMER + AX TREE NOW TBH" it would've been one thing if they were at least fighting a hariyama or something. tanky, but not impossible. a duraludon? they wish they had their webcam on. at least they could. mouth it or something.

could dee lip read?

"DO U RMBR WEAKNESSES?"

their messages get sloppier as adele maneuvers their avatar to skirt the monster's periphery to draw its attention. they weren't really built to be a tank. but, if it got its hands on the bow user of the two of them: they might as well just log out for the day.

et09XapM

Fenelle Miller

·

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warmed milk is spun through a dark galaxy. flecks and splatters compose a night sky as a deft hand guides a constellation into a delicate-looking bird. what the bird is, and what it looks like is up to interpretation. there's a beak and something that looks like feathers. slender digits rest against a saucer and push it towards its receiver in a silent, but welcome invitation.

this isn't part of their job.

adele half-thinks to go to ask hr. adele half-knows most of their complaints have likely been disregarded.

probably because they submit them all the time.

they swirl the milk in its container a bit absently, lifting the lid to inspect to see if there was anything left before sloppily pouring what remains into the second cup. less effort, but coffee that would do fine. they rinse out the frother—brought from home at the insistence of some of their other anonymous coworkers—and set it aside again. "ah," the arrival of a quiet realization, "i forgot to ask." they stare at the cup a little longer. maybe they already asked. was it supposed to be iced or? hot? could've been both. maybe she liked things lukewarm.

she kind of looked like she would.

they tuck that comment in cheek. probably would sound weird. adele leans back against the low-lying countertop, inspecting their own coffee cup for a beat before they looked back in their would-be co-worker. at least, that's what they think is happening here. someone had told them to onboard this girl, but they—well, they have to think that they might've seen her in passing once or twice before. maybe when she was getting hired or something. or maybe it was for something else? there was chatter from their other colleagues.

she was someone important. her name is—"you were saying something earlier." not her name. but, at least they remembered the conversation. that's already better than most days in the office. everything seems to go over their head or, well. around them.

"about where you were working before this, you were doing what exactly?" pause. "mari—lee." they remembered the rest just in time.

adele sips quietly at their coffee. weird name.

marilee beaufort

they used to be good at this.

mouth falls open. a choked back word. mouth seals shut again, and adele takes a cautious sip of the pinap cider sitting in her hands. it's too sour. maybe something about the rind? could've been that it was fermented wrong. there's a nice warmth to it. maybe it would've done better with a little bit more cinnamon? star anise? they take another sip. they take a passing glance—a look from the corner of their eye, really—at the near-stranger that sits beside them at this oden stand as they return the plastic glass to the counter. fingertips play off an unsteady rhythm against the sides.

beneath the drum of the night market, they pick out the sound of their arms sticking to the counter.

they used to be good at this.

talking.

they don't really remember when it was that they became a first draft. a collection of half-finished thoughts and sentences that don't quite make it out into the final submission. that was every talking point they'd had available thus far if you could call anything that they'd talked about an actual exchange. nails rattle off a slightly louder rhythm. he was supposed to carry the conversation. he just has more questions instead.

( they forgot how talking works. )

adele never really has the answers. they say awkward, clumsy things instead:

• they heard about this place from a coworker, but don't know if it's good. a quick search online said there were a few health code violations but the odds are pretty low that they'd get sick.
• their real name is adele, but they're fine if he kept calling them apple. actually, no. they don't like when he calls them apple in person. it sounds weird and they'd prefer adele. ada's a non-starter.
• it's weird that they serve cider here. they thought it would've been strictly traditional alcohol. the kind that would match the food.
• they don't like this cider, either.

even the vendor seems uncomfortable. "sorry," comes the apology, uncertain. the tapping stops. the rattling starts. "maybe i should go."

Aris van der Veld

hm, hm, doing this with Aris van der Veld!

taking with Fenelle Miller!

every so often, it catches them off-guard.

there is the verdant landscape, coupled with the rush of the clearest water they've ever seen at their feet. the dapples of sunlight that peek through a tree canopy that goes on for miles and miles. it almost looks real, but even detailed graphics cannot capture the soft rush of wind through leaves or mimic the earthiness of the soil.

though, adele's never cared much for either of those things. what they did care for was here.

here, being:

"I WONDER IF THEY'LL RESPAWN SOON." they mumble, ahpletuni turning to face their lone party member for this hunt. they'd spent the better part of the afternoon searching for their quarry, though that hadn't been the plan. "THE QUEUE MIGHT'VE OPENED UP MORE." their glaive drops a margin, the tip of it skirting the ground as their character exited active combat. weapon is returned to an ambiguous mount on the back of their armor in favor of arms crossing over their chest in open defiance of the guiding lands.

"FOR THE NEW DUNGEON, I MEAN."

"DO YOU WANT TO SWITCH YET?"

it'd been a miracle that either of them were able to log on today. between the introduction of the new cosmetics along with a new couple of bosses and an event? it was as though the developers feigned ignorance to the strain on the servers. even now, there's a bit of a lag between what they dictate and what is repeated on-screen. something rustles nearby. adele barely registers it. probably more delayed sound effects from before. they still wanted to try. it was one thing to back down at the grocery store in the face of a suburban mother.

it was another to do it in a game that they had little time to play as it was. neckbeards were less frightening than any suburban mother they knew.

"THAT" a pause, one of their hands stalling over the keys while the opposite scratched beneath their chatot's beak. "WEAPON WOULD BE GOOD FOR IT."

Fenelle Miller

all mornings are the same and each day is infinity.

a chipped nail scratches against graying, white keys. eyes glaze over boxes for a form that needs to be filled. glasses sit low on the bridge of their nose, then fracture at heart's center—held together with little more than scotch tape and a dream of better vision insurance plans. papers shuffle beneath the absent hand and a cursory glance reminds them that this is something else that's fallen through the cracks in between putting out all the other fires that aren't, but are in silly and awful places of human invention like accounts receivable.

this is what they mean: infinity.

an endless, looping story of those in authority inventing new problems and tasking others to resolve them.

adele keeps typing.

they don't even resolve them. they just pretend that they do and then hope the issue goes away long enough for them to pretend that it's newly resurfaced or that they cast it in a worse metal like copper or bronze or—they were going somewhere with this. they don't have time for something like this. adele keeps typing.

a stack of files sits unattended and a wandering mouse means the pile gets knocked over.

the wheels of their chair rattle against the floor cover. things are shuffled back into place, back into file. by the time that they sit up again, there's a new problem on their desk: this one, blonde and tempting. they rifle through the catalog of faces tucked somewhere into the back of their head, mouth soft as it falls open to test a name or two. they've gotten it wrong before. when they are called ada, adele replies in turn: "emma." confident, more certain. don't want to upset her. another potential problem. won't be, if they play along.

adele takes the coffee in-hand.

"visiting again?" glasses find their place nestled somewhere in their hair. they nurse the coffee cup with a quiet hum. "you know, they've invented an interesting thing called a phone. you should try it sometime if you mean to speak to your brother." lips curve against the lid, the tiniest hints of amusement cradling their tone. "you always seem to miss him." a sip. hm, interesting. something adjacent to komala coffee?

no. different. somewhere else.

"though, a phone probably won't be useful if he's avoiding you," or vice versa, they imply.

emma stone

ADELE VERONESI

"ALL THE MONEY IN THE WORLD AND THE SAME SHITTY BACKEND, HUH?"

two parts disillusionment, one part disinterest: adele isn't often a person you find yourself seeking out. they can't be called a wallflower, but they aren't at the center of every conversation. watching is their preference and they are ill at-ease when they find themself on the opposite end of that. they themself are a secretary at the general disposal ( though they have their favorites ) of the league and are often found idling about in headquarters filing paperwork, making coffee and running errands when they aren't scurrying floor to floor in search of councilmembers that they can never find when they need them.

PLOT HOOKS

STRANGER THAT WE ARE

MAKING FRIENDS AS AN ADULT IS HARD ACTUALLY

look, they're not trying to be unfriendly.

but, they certainly haven't gone out of their way to make themself come across as someone interested in even being strangers nevermind being friends. that isn't because they don't want to. it's just that? they haven't really thought about it? coming to hoenn alone after everything didn't exactly put them in a situation where they could or would want to socialize. but, you know, years pass. things kind of heal themselves. they're trying again. that means support groups, awkwardly trying to arrange adult play dates, reaching out through online channels: nothing's really stuck, but they're hopeful that it might. where are the other weird adults when you need them?

HOW DO YOU LIKE YOUR COFFEE?

I SHOULD GET TIPS IF THIS IS PART OF MY JOB

a councilmember? a gym leader? literally any other shmuck with some authority and weight to throw around? adele's been working for the league for roughly four to five years at this point, ambiguously hanging out in the background as things just kind of happened. maybe you recognize them now or maybe you lucked into being one of their favorite people to work for? maybe you were kind of a freaking nightmare and are the subject of the infinite stories that they've definitely told their pokemon? maybe you're friends, but like work friends? that counts for something. you'll have to tell them, though.

I'M NOT SWEATY, YOU ARE

YES, I'M DIAMOND RANK? DON'T LOOK AT ME

what adele does in their free time is their business if anyone at work asks. they spend a lot of their free time playing online games. that includes mobas, most gachas and mmos. it's just kind of how they pass their time. it's the easiest avenue through which to become acquainted with them, though the toxic player does jump out every now and again if you aren't healing right. they can easily be found at in real life events to gather collectibles or rare items. a manufacturing champion in most mmos, which is the first sign they also could probably run a pyramid scheme in real life if they had money.

PLOT CALLS

YES, I'LL GO GET YOUR LAUNDRY

SECRETARY, NOT A PERSONAL SERVANT

as it stands, adele's a general league secretary, meaning that they kind of will do anything that people tell them to do as long as they're large and charge. that does mean that they're not really any specific person's personal assistant, which i'd actually like to have happen at some point so that they can develop a bit more interest in the setting. they're reliable, but complain a lot and eventually will just start complaining to your face but they'll do what needs to be done on your part.

this is my discount lord-retainer. this is more of a slowburn, ironically, because you kind of have to earn their loyalty. transferring them over is easy because they'll go where the money goes. but, i think there could be an interesting payoff, whether the relationship is antagonistic or sympathetic. if you tick them off, it opens them up to being a bit of a snitch to rocketers without meaning to be. if you play nice, they'll be more diligent about preserving your reputation. much to discuss here if you're interested, but playing pretty fast and loose with this.

THREAD IDEAS

this is just a running list of possible plots that we can hit the ground running with. may not be up to date. last edit: 6/12.

CHAT-NOT

NEIGHBORS, SLICE OF LIFE FLAVORED

the last few nights have been strange. lately, you've been hearing the sound of odd muttering and distended voices that seem to belong to? more than one person? but, you know your neighbors. that kind of thing seems pretty strange. maybe it's nothing for you to worry about. maybe it's just that the building is pretty old. that is, at least, until tonight, when you suddenly heard the sound of someone screaming. apparently, one of your neighbors, adele, hears it too.

tl;dr a pseudo ghost hunt, wherein you eventually find out that their awful little chatot has a terrible sense of humor.

TEN CENTIMETERS PER SECOND

SLICE OF LIFE FLAVORED

this could be played as a neighbors, coworkers or pure strangers situation. you swear that you didn't put it there. you know that you set it somewhere well within sight, so that you'd know to grab it. what you don't know is how that thing ended up hanging off of your table or how that other thing ended up across the room. and hey, wasn't that chair a few feet over that way? what's going on here? are you losing your marbles or? wait, why's that person trying to grab your stuff? hey!

tl;dr their gastly's moving your stuff around just enough for it to be annoying. adele knows, and is frantically working to try and put everything back before you notice that they know that you know.

LET'S MAKE A DATE

SLICE OF LIFE FLAVORED

oh, good! you've got a match on this dating app. isn't that nice? hey. wait. no, you remember this face? you remember this person. weren't they super rude to you? oh, and now they don't even remember who you are? to add insult to injury, you find out shortly after they message you that they didn't mean to swipe on you and that it was actually their psyduck's fault. hm, maybe this is an opportunity to clear the air? or, you know, maybe it's a chance for just a little vindication.

tl;dr their psyduck stepped on their phone and accidentally swiped on you, but you remember adele doing something very specifically bad enough to merit a small grudge. like steal your coffee, maybe. or tell you your hips sit weird. time for a revenge( ? ) date.

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[newclass=.silpc-mini-top div]float:right;margin:-2px -2px -2px 5px;height:14px;width:14px;border-radius:100%;font-size:8px;line-height:14px;text-align:center;background-color:#2b2b2b;cursor:pointer;[/newclass]

[newclass=.silpc-mini-top i]color:#eeeeee;float:left;margin-right:5px;[/newclass]

[newclass=.silpc-mini-bulk]padding:24px;[/newclass]

[newclass=.silpc-mini-left]height:180px;float:left;padding-right:20px;border-right:solid 1px #272727;margin-right:20px;width:90px;[/newclass]

[newclass=.silpc-mini-icon]height:70px;width:70px;margin-bottom:15px;border:solid 2px #2b2b2b;border-top:solid 2px #eeeeee;border-radius:100%;padding:8px;[/newclass]

[newclass=.silpc-mini-icon img]height:70px;width:70px;border-radius:100%;[/newclass]

[newclass=.silpc-mini-info div]white-space:nowrap;font:10px Roboto;line-height:15px;[/newclass]

[newclass=.silpc-mini-info div i]color:#555555;line-height:15px!important;float:left;margin-right:5px;[/newclass]

[newclass=.silpc-mini-info div span]color:#eeeeee;[/newclass]

[newclass=.silpc-mini-info div span b]color:#eeeeee;[/newclass]

[newclass=.silpc-mini-right]margin-left:131px;height:180px;overflow:auto;padding-right:10px;font:11px Roboto;text-align:justify;[/newclass]

[newclass=.silpc-mini-right::-webkit-scrollbar-thumb:vertical]border:solid 1px #272727;border-radius:0px;background-color:#303030;[/newclass]

[newclass=.silpc-mini-right::-webkit-scrollbar]background-color:transparent;border:none;border-radius:0px;width:7px;[/newclass]



[newclass=.silpc .PT_table .PT_tabs]height:0px;width:0px;color:#505050;border: 0px;text-align:center;background-color: transparent;font:bold 10px Roboto;text-transform:uppercase;line-height:10px;margin-top:-14px;margin-left:-67px;position:absolute;-webkit-transition: all 0.2s ease; -moz-transition: all 0.2s ease; -o-transition: all 0.2s ease;cursor:pointer;[/newclass]

[newclass=.silpc .PT_table .PT_tabs_hover]height:0px;width:0px;border: 0px;text-align:center;background-color: transparent;font:bold 10px Roboto;text-transform:uppercase;line-height:10px;position:absolute;margin-top:-14px;margin-left:-67px;cursor:pointer;color:#eeeeee;[/newclass]

[newclass=.silpc .PT_table .PT_tabs_selected]height:0px;width:0px;border: 0px;text-align:center;background-color: transparent;font:bold 10px Roboto;text-transform:uppercase;line-height:10px;position:absolute;-webkit-transition: all 0.2s ease; -moz-transition: all 0.2s ease; -o-transition: all 0.2s ease;margin-top:-14px;margin-left:-67px;cursor:pointer;color:#eeeeee;[/newclass]

[newclass=.silpc .PT_table .PT_tabs_selected_hover]height:0px;width:0px;border: 0px;text-align:center;background-color: transparent;font:bold 10px Roboto;text-transform:uppercase;line-height:10px;position:absolute;margin-top:-14px;margin-left:-67px;cursor:pointer;color:#eeeeee;[/newclass]







[newclass=.silpc-ROCKET .silpc-img]background:linear-gradient(to bottom,#ffffff,#febc03);[/newclass]

[newclass=.silpc-ROCKET .silpc-url-1, .silpc-ROCKET .silpc-url-2 div, .silpc-ROCKET .silpc-url-2 b, .silpc-ROCKET .silpc-pkmn-1 b, .silpc-ROCKET .silpc-mini-top i, .silpc-ROCKET .silpc-mini-info span, .silpc-ROCKET .silpc .PT_table .PT_tabs_selected, .silpc-ROCKET .silpc .PT_table .PT_tabs_hover, .silpc-ROCKET .silpc .PT_table .PT_tabs_selected_hover, .silpc-ROCKET .silpc-mini-right b]color:#febc03!important;[/newclass]

[newclass=.silpc-ROCKET .silpc-mini-icon]border-top:solid 2px #febc03;[/newclass]

[newclass=.silpc-LEAGUE .silpc-img]background:linear-gradient(to bottom,#ffffff,#D49736);[/newclass]

[newclass=.silpc-LEAGUE .silpc-url-1, .silpc-LEAGUE .silpc-url-2 div, .silpc-LEAGUE .silpc-url-2 b, .silpc-LEAGUE .silpc-pkmn-1 b, .silpc-LEAGUE .silpc-mini-top i, .silpc-LEAGUE .silpc-mini-info span, .silpc-LEAGUE .silpc .PT_table .PT_tabs_selected, .silpc-LEAGUE .silpc .PT_table .PT_tabs_hover, .silpc-LEAGUE .silpc .PT_table .PT_tabs_selected_hover, .silpc-LEAGUE .silpc-mini-right b]color:#D49736!important;[/newclass]

[newclass=.silpc-LEAGUE .silpc-mini-icon]border-top:solid 2px #D49736;[/newclass]