Avatar of StarfrostedFox

Status

Recent Statuses

2 mos ago
Current To have actual creativity, motivation, and inspiration back feels like welcoming home an old familiar friend. Comfortable. It's nice.
5 likes
3 yrs ago
Finally recovered from postpartum depression and ready to get back to being creative! My apologies to anyone I ghosted in my time of trial. I didn't understand what I was doing.
23 likes
6 yrs ago
Yay! I’m finally a mother! And no, I’m not biased. I know my son is the cutest! 💙
19 likes
8 yrs ago
All good things come to those that wait, pray, have patience, laugh, love, and are not afraid to dance.
3 likes

Bio

Well, you seem to have stumbled across my user profile. I'm assuming you're here for a reason? Perhaps looking for details on this user StarfrostedFox? ... You can just call me Autumn! Or Josie! C:

I have been role-playing off and on for the last 20 or so years, which is surprising to realize, and I find it a relaxing and enjoyable hobby. After an accident that left me blind a little over 17 years ago, I couldn't role-play for quite some time, which was rather devastating. About the time that Apple invented Siri, I was able to get enough money to be able to purchase my very first iPhone. And BAM! The world of role-playing was once again open to me. It has been a long process getting used to dictating stories and I inevitably don't always catch every single mistake, But I have learned a great deal of patience and realize the value of taking things slow and working through my text when something doesn't sound completely right. It was only a couple of years ago that I came across this website and the stories I have had here have taught me a lot about myself. I love to create. Role-playing is one of the only outlets I have for the images in my head. So though I may have a tendency to go through cycles of depression and being antisocial, I always seem to come back in the end.

I love stories involving fantasy, supernatural, adventure, mystery, even romance. There probably isn't a genre out there that I wouldn't give a try before I will say that I don't like it.

My favorite style of role-playing is, hands down, one on one. It helps me feel more involved in the story, gives me a chance to be able to talk with the other person involved in a much more casual way, And more often than not results in a long lasting friend and some of my favorite adventures.

I have a tendency to write on a casual to low Advanced level throughout my stories, the minimum coming out to an average of a couple of paragraphs. I just have so much in my head that I want to get out, I have a hard time writing anything less. Another consequence however is that I can't seem to find a lot of patients with story partners that give me a really short and undetailed response every time. It's discouraging to take the time to write out several detailed paragraphs only to get a sentence in reply. If you're here thinking of asking me to do a story, please keep that in mind.

I do not tolerate swearing, extreme Gore, or sexual content in my stories. Period. Nor do I role-play same gender romantic relationships. That is just not going to happen.

If you made it to the end of this and I haven't scared you off, I think you deserve some virtual cookies. Heck, go get yourself some real cookies. Or donuts. Or pie if that is your preference. It was just me rambling away about myself after all. If you aren't scared off and you were indeed here looking to get a story started, feel free to shoot me a private message. I'm always looking to make new friends and have new adventures.

Most Recent Posts

Finally finished my post. I'll hopefully be faster next time. We'll see.

I'm looking forward to seeing what everyone does with their characters as well. Things are very interesting at the moment. Poor Elena. I didn't think I'd end up liking Gyarados so much. Heh. It's not one of my quick go to go to Pokémon myself. My husband just recently used one in his run through Shining Pearl. Starting up a Pokémon role-play has revived interest in Pokémon in general in our house and all of us except the youngest has been playing. I've also started watching the anime with the boys and my two year-old can reliably recognize the Kanto starters along with several others. He gets excited when they come up.
Maeve’s lips twitched upward despite herself. It wasn’t quite a smile, but it was close.

“I wasn’t going to say suspiciously,” she replied dryly. “Just… unexpected.”

Her eyes wandered briefly over his immaculate attire once more before dropping to her own scuffed boots.

“Most trainers I’ve met who’ve spent any real length of time on the road tend to look as though the road has won a few rounds.”

Whisper let out a low, chuffing snort that was unmistakably amused, earning herself a sidelong glance from Maeve.

“Some of us more than others.”

The Zoroark’s sharp grin only widened, bright blue eyes glittering with mischief.

Maeve considered his earlier remark about stopping to appreciate the scenery. There was something oddly refreshing about it. Most accomplished trainers she’d encountered wore ambition almost like armor, every conversation eventually circling back to victories, rankings, or the next challenge. Liam didn’t seem uninterested in competition—someone invited here couldn’t be—but he didn’t appear consumed by it either.

“I suppose there’s some sense in that,” she admitted. “If you spend the entire journey focused only on the destination, you miss everything that made getting there worthwhile.” She paused, almost surprised she’d said it aloud.

“To be honest…” Maeve admitted after a brief hesitation, a faint, self-conscious smile tugging at one corner of her mouth. “I’d probably be one of the people who walked right past it.”

Her gaze drifted briefly toward her Pokémon. “My team has to remind me to slow down and appreciate things sometimes. Beautiful views. Quiet moments.” She gave a small, almost sheepish shrug. “I’m not very good at it.”

For just a heartbeat, Whisper wore the unmistakable expression of someone silently thinking, She’s underselling that.

Bridgette nodded enthusiastically in agreement, while Atlas merely closed his eyes with the faintest hint of a knowing smile. Even Juniper chittered softly.

Maeve caught all of the reactions and let out a quiet sigh. “…See? They’d agree.”

She shook her head briefly, her braids swinging with the motion.

“I came from Unova,” she answered after another moment. “Castelia City.”

At the mention of home, Bridgette’s face brightened. The Ampharos gave an excited little bleat before happily bounding forward with her arms spread wide, her restraint failing at last.

“Bridgette-”

Maeve reached out instinctively, but she was a fraction too late. The Ampharos wrapped Liam in a warm, exuberant hug, nearly lifting him off balance with surprising strength. Atlas had reacted immediately, the Lucario stepping smoothly behind Liam, one arm bracing firmly across his back to steady him against Bridgette’s enthusiastic embrace. The movement was calm and practiced, as though he’d intervened in exactly this sort of situation more times than he could count.

Bridgette released Liam a moment later, beaming up at him with an utterly unrepentant smile before taking a small step back.

Maeve let out a quiet sigh. “I'm sorry. …She likes meeting people.”
A brief pause.
“Very much.”

Atlas withdrew his arm and resumed his usual composed posture, while Bridgette offered him an innocent smile that fooled absolutely no one. Whisper covered her mouth with the back of one paw, shoulders giving a tiny shake as she silently laughed. Off to the side, Tempest had finally managed to smooth his ruffled feathers back into something resembling dignity, so was able to click his beak. Whether he was chiding Bridget or scolding Whisper was unclear however, though both Pokémon ignored his effort.

Apparently deciding she’d had enough excitement for the moment, Whisper strode over toward Boo with deliberate care. Rather than crowding the timid Pokémon, she stopped a respectful distance away and lowered herself into a relaxed crouch, resting one elbow casually on her raised knee while her other hand lay loosely against the grass. Her vivid blue eyes remained fixed on the other Pokémon with quiet curiosity. Gone was the playful troublemaker from moments before; now she simply tilted her head ever so slightly, waiting with remarkable patience, as though silently asking if Boo might like to come over when he felt ready.

Maeve noticed the interaction immediately.

“She’s… gentler than she looks,” she said, though the hesitation in her voice suggested she understood how unbelievable that sounded after the spectacle Liam had just witnessed.

“ usually.”

Whisper looked over with exaggerated offense, placing a hand against her chest and giving an indignant huff. Maeve ignored the performance with practiced ease.

“So…” She folded the invitation neatly back into its envelope before slipping it into one of her jacket pockets. “If you’ve been traveling from Wyndon, I’m guessing you already know at least a little about what we’ve all been invited into.” Her expression grew thoughtful. “Or are you walking into this with as many questions as I am?”

...


The ice cream stand had gathered a modest queue despite the afternoon lull, laughter and conversation blending with the bustle of Jubilife City’s streets. Tide had only just received his order when a measured, refined voice spoke from beside him.

“A moving performance.”

The speaker was an older gentleman, perhaps in his late sixties, impeccably dressed in a charcoal waistcoat and a long, tailored coat despite the pleasant weather. A polished black top hat rested comfortably upon his silver hair, and perched atop it as though it were the most natural throne in the world sat a dignified Chatot. The colorful bird tilted its head curiously before giving a soft whistle.

The gentleman accepted his own frozen treat with a grateful nod to the vendor before turning fully toward Tide. “I happened to be among those watching the contest,” he continued. “Your Gardevoir did not simply perform. She conveyed something genuine. That is considerably rarer.”

Chatot bobbed once. “Genuine,” it echoed.

A faint smile creased the older man’s weathered face. “Many trainers mistake spectacle for talent. Others mistake strength for mastery.” He gestured lightly with his spoon toward Tide’s Poké Balls. “Skill is knowing your Pokémon. Ability is helping them express what only they can become. The finest trainers possess both.”

His eyes drifted briefly toward the towering silhouette of the Battle Colosseum visible above the city skyline. “And, if the rumors surrounding the upcoming competition are to be believed,” He chuckled quietly. “There will be no shortage of trainers with extraordinary ability. The ones remembered afterward, however, are usually those with the wisdom to understand the hearts of their partners.”

Chatot fluffed its feathers proudly atop the hat. “Hearts matter!”

“They do indeed,” the gentleman agreed, reaching up absentmindedly to scratch beneath the bird’s beak. “Well then, I shall not keep you from enjoying your afternoon for much longer. Congratulations on your victory, young man.”

For a moment, he simply stood beside Tide, enjoying his own frozen treat as people drifted past them through the busy streets. There was an easy patience about him, as though he had nowhere in particular to be and was content to let the conversation continue naturally if the young trainer wished it.

“So,” he said after another spoonful, a pleasant curiosity in his voice, “have you given much thought to how you’ll approach the competition? Talent may earn an invitation, but preparation has a habit of deciding who remains when the dust settles.”
I think some structure would be nice. That way, people can have a predictable schedule and it is less likely that someone will get left behind. I was feeling a lot of stress to get my first post out, but that's just me. I hope it's OK.

And, I already mentioned this to Dr. Batch, but wanted to have a disclaimer here: I am legally blind. If there are misspelled words in my post, just kindly point them out if you want them changed. Homophones are the bane of my writing. I do a lot of my writing through dictation and I can't hear mistakes like that. I try my best though.

I hope you all enjoy the post! I was a little out of it at the end, so hopefully it's still OK. I've enjoyed everyone's riding so far. :)
At one of the tables near the windows, sitting where the light would slant across the wooden surface, a tall, wiry man sat almost bent double, his silvery eyes closely scrutinizing a few snatches of minute print on a scrap of paper. Rubbing briefly along his narrow chin with one long fingered hand, he scooped up the parchment and slipped it into a leather book, joining the dozens of similar pieces of paper already inserted between the pages of his handwritten notes. His gaze then swept over the myriad collection of maps, notes, and series of other books taking up nearly the entirety of the space before him.

He had just reached for another book, his well worn and stained sleeve of his robes threatening to topple over a stack of papers, when movement caught his attention from beyond the window. The wizard paused to take a closer look, finding himself meeting the gaze of what was unmistakably a fae creature with her hands pressed against the glass to look in. Abruptly, he yelped with surprise, knocking over the tome he had been reaching for and sending the paper over the edge with it. As his hand shot out instinctively to try and catch everything before it fell, he inadvertently unbalanced his long staff, the elegantly carved wood hitting the floor with a clatter. He automatically tried to reach for this, resulting in his head hitting into the window with an audible clunk.

Hissing with pain, one of his hands clutching at the spot where his head had collided with the window, the half elf felt his pale cheeks flaming with embarrassment as he carefully bent to scoop up his belongings, trying desperately to avoid meeting any glares or curious glances, unable to help but hear a scattering of laughter around his immediate vicinity.

"Master Virell! Are you all right," a voice gasped, a young woman with her hair done up in a braid hurrying over to help him pick up the scattered pages.

Theron Virell grimaced delicately, going, if possible, an even deeper shade of red. He recognized the woman as Cinta, one of the many maids employed at the Wellspring Tavern. She in particular had taken sympathy with him, taking it upon herself to keep an eye out for him since his arrival a few days earlier. He thought she was simply a genuinely kind person, but he couldn't help but notice the stifled exasperation that he sometimes caught in her expression. He could only hope that she wasn't one for gossip about him when he wasn't there.

"Th-Theron will do Miss Cinta," he began, carefully maneuvering the staff so that it wouldn't hit the tavern made as he picked it up from the ground, but she cut him off with her own words.

"I've already told you. I'll start calling you just Theron if you start calling me just Cinta," she said, handing over what she had gathered with a smile.

Theron wished his face could have a moment to finally cool off. He felt like his skin was going to catch fire.

"Yes Miss Cinta," Theron automatically responded, quelling under the surprisingly stern look he was suddenly getting. He fidgeted with the ink stained sleeves of his robes for a moment as he stammered uncomprehensively before he finally managed to speak again. "Yes... Cinta."

Cinta slipped back into a smile before she gave the nervous wizard a more serious once over.

"Are you alright?"

A brief wince passed over his expression, but Theron brushed away her concern by running his fingertips briefly across his forehead. It ached, but it wasn't as bad as some of the other injuries he had gotten over his lifetime. "I'll be right as rain in no time, ho-honestly," he said, though the stammer ruined the confident air he had attempted.

"... all right," Cinta replied slowly, clearly unsure about his response. "Well," she continued, brushing absently at her apron with the backs of her hands, "i'll at least go and fetch you some bread. You've been forgetting to eat again."

And with that, Cinta was hurrying away, leaving Theron to gape after her for a moment. Did she think him incapable of taking care of himself? He snorted a little before feeling his stomach suddenly give a prolonged rumble of hunger. And he had to concede that she probably had a point.

With a soft sigh, Theron set to work clearing a space for the inevitable food, organizing his papers and scrolls into a more condensed scattering.

That was when he remembered the fae.

Quickly, his silvery gaze flickered back towards the window, part of him hoping that he had just been imagining her presence, the other half very much itching with curiosity and intrigue and wishing to see her delicate hands still pressed against the glass. He felt a flicker of disappointment when she was no longer there. Sighing to himself, the half elf glanced around surreptitiously, hoping no one was watching him still. He thought he caught a smirk out of the corner of his eye, but it was gone before he could make sure. He did catch sight of a short creature that had recently arrived, something he hadn't been expecting, if what he saw under the cloak told him anything. A goblin. He hesitated a moment before attempting to catch their attention, waving them closer with a quirk of a few fingers.

Unfortunately for him, he saw movement at the bar and a person stand up. His stomach did a sort of flip as he saw it was Arn, someone he had spoken to many years ago. He spoke of yet more death and destruction, something that made his stomach twist for a different reason and his hand instinctively fell on his book of handwritten notes and gripped it tightly, knuckles going white.

'Well, you were looking for an excuse and group to head into the forest. Here's your chance, he thought to himself as he listened, feeling his heart stutter at the idea of facing danger head on. But there really wasn't a way around this. Not if what he had been discovering was true.

When the speech wound down to a close, he blinked, and then snapped his attention back onto the goblin, hoping that she hadn't moved either.
I will be posting soon. Sorry I vanished for a few days. Had some health issues come up, but I'm back to almost normal. It seems like I'm not the only one that's been busy.
Theron Virell


Age: 27
Race: Half-Elf
Alignment: Neutral Good
Class: Wizard (Scholar of Ancient Magic)
Height: 6’1”
Occupation: Traveling Mage, Linguist, Researcher of Lost Civilizations
Appearance: Theron is tall for a half-elf, but so thin that he often appears almost fragile beneath the heavy layers of his robes. His narrow shoulders hunch forward slightly, as though he is perpetually trying to make himself smaller in crowded rooms. Pale skin and long ash-brown hair give him a ghostly appearance, especially in candlelight where the sharp angles of his face become even more pronounced. A pair of soft silver eyes constantly dart around his surroundings, alert and anxious, rarely meeting another person’s gaze for long.

His robes are practical rather than elegant: dark blue fabric faded from years of travel, patched sleeves stained with ink and alchemical residue, and too many hidden pockets filled with scrolls, charms, and half-finished notes. Thin fingers twitch nervously whenever he speaks, often adjusting his gloves, shuffling papers, or clutching the wooden focus staff he carries everywhere.

The staff itself is taller than he is, carved from pale yew wood and crowned with a cracked crystal that flickers faintly whenever strong emotions overcome him.

Despite his untidy appearance, there is a strange charm to him. He carries the look of someone who has spent more nights beneath library lanterns than tavern lights. His clothes are worn, his boots perpetually dusty, and his hair often escapes whatever attempt he made that morning to tie it back. Yet there is a quiet dignity hidden beneath the disarray—a sense that every stain and patch tells part of a much longer story.

Personality: Theron is intelligent, observant, and deeply introspective, but plagued by a persistent lack of confidence. He tends to assume others are more competent than he is, even when evidence suggests otherwise. Conversations often find him apologizing unnecessarily, second-guessing his conclusions, or abandoning a good point halfway through explaining it.

He dislikes conflict and will go to great lengths to avoid arguments, sometimes remaining silent even when he knows someone is wrong. This tendency has led many people to underestimate him, mistaking his quiet demeanor for weakness.

Beneath the nervousness, however, lies an exceptionally determined individual. Once Theron commits himself to a goal, he becomes almost impossible to dissuade. His fear never truly disappears—it simply becomes secondary to whatever mystery, problem, or danger demands his attention.

When discussing subjects he loves, especially ancient magic, forgotten kingdoms, lost languages, or arcane theory, he transforms completely. His words come faster, his eyes brighten, and his usual hesitation vanishes beneath genuine enthusiasm. It is often the only time he forgets to be afraid.

Background: Theron was born in a modest border settlement where merchants, travelers, and adventurers frequently passed through. His elven mother served as a teacher and translator, while his human father worked as a cartographer. From an early age, he inherited both a fascination with history and a love of old books.

While other children dreamed of becoming knights or adventurers, Theron spent his days buried in records, maps, and stories of forgotten civilizations. His aptitude for languages and magical theory earned him admission to a respected academy of arcane studies.

Academy life, however, proved difficult. Though academically gifted, Theron struggled socially. His classmates often viewed him as eccentric, and his tendency to panic under pressure earned him a reputation as someone brilliant in theory but unreliable in practice.

Everything changed during an expedition in his final years of study.

While investigating the ruins of a long-lost magical civilization, Theron’s research group uncovered an ancient artifact bound to a damaged crystal core. The discovery triggered a catastrophic magical collapse that killed several scholars and nearly claimed Theron’s life as well.

The cracked crystal atop his staff is a fragment of that artifact.

Though he survived, the tragedy left lasting scars. Theron carries immense guilt over the deaths that occurred, believing that had he recognized certain warning signs sooner, the disaster might have been prevented. Since then, he has devoted himself to studying lost magic in hopes of ensuring such catastrophes never happen again.

His research eventually led him to references concerning the Darkmere. Several fragmented texts spoke of an ancient kingdom swallowed by the forest centuries before the rise of the Lich Lord Myr, a civilization rumored to possess magical knowledge thought lost to history.

Theron came to the Wellspring seeking information rather than adventure. He intended to interview travelers, gather maps, and perhaps hire an escort into the safer regions of the Darkmere.

Unfortunately, every lead he uncovered pointed directly toward the growing threat at the heart of the forest.

Acquaintance: Arn Wolven

Several years ago, while researching forgotten trade routes through a remote border settlement, Theron became stranded after severe storms washed out the local roads. Forced to wait at an overcrowded roadside inn, he spent much of his time buried in notes and historical records.

Among the stranded travelers was Arn Wolven.

The two were never especially close, but Arn distinguished himself by doing something few others ever had: he listened. While many dismissed Theron’s lengthy discussions of ancient kingdoms and lost civilizations, Arn showed genuine interest. Over several evenings, the two exchanged stories and knowledge by the inn’s hearth. Theron translated an old inscription Arn had acquired during his travels, while Arn shared firsthand accounts of places Theron had only read about.

When the roads finally reopened, they parted ways without ceremony.

Years later, arriving at the Wellspring and finding a familiar face among the gathered adventurers brought Theron an unexpected sense of relief. In a room filled with strangers, seeing someone who had once treated him with patience and respect made the prospect of joining an expedition far less daunting.

Strengths
Exceptional memory for languages, symbols, and historical records.
Skilled researcher capable of uncovering connections others overlook.
Highly adaptable problem solver.
Patient and methodical when investigating magical phenomena.
Considerable magical talent despite lacking confidence in his abilities.
Empathetic and nonjudgmental listener.
Possesses extensive knowledge of ancient civilizations, relics, and arcane history.

Flaws
Chronic self doubt.
Tends to freeze when forced into leadership positions.
Easily intimidated by strong personalities.
Overthinks even simple decisions.
Neglects sleep, food, and self-care when absorbed in research.
Avoids confrontation whenever possible.
Carries unresolved guilt over the academy expedition and those who died there.

Habits & Mannerisms
Apologizes frequently, even when nothing is his fault.
Talks to himself while solving difficult problems.
Collects fragments of ancient texts and stores them in carefully labeled pouches.
Sleeps with books stacked beside his bedroll.
Taps the end of his staff against the ground while thinking.
Begins many observations with, “This may be completely wrong, but…”
Maintains meticulous journals documenting everything he learns.
Avoids prolonged eye contact unless discussing a subject that genuinely excites him.

Magic
Theron’s magic revolves around knowledge, preservation, and understanding rather than raw destruction.
His specialties include:
Arcane translation and deciphering.
Warding and protective enchantments.
Detection and identification magic.
Illusions used for study and communication.
Ritual magic tied to ancient civilizations.
Utility spells that aid exploration and research.
While capable of combat magic when necessary, he strongly prefers solving problems through preparation, ingenuity, and understanding rather than force.
The cracked crystal atop his staff occasionally reacts to powerful magical forces. Whether this is merely a lingering effect of the artifact or evidence of something far more significant remains unknown.

Goals
Uncover the truth behind the civilization that created the crystal artifact.
Translate a collection of fragmented texts recovered from ancient ruins.
Learn the true nature of his connection to the crystal.
Prevent magical catastrophes similar to the one that destroyed his research expedition.
Prove—to himself more than anyone else—that he is capable of making a meaningful difference.
Find companions who value him for more than his knowledge.

Quote
“I-I mean, it’s probably nothing. Just an ancient magical construct capable of catastrophic reality distortion. Nothing to worry about. Probably.”
Chat based role-play is definitely faster paced, I haven't done that in years though. I, like Azure, need some time to wrap my head around how my character is going to respond. Especially if they are a different personality than I am. So with that and the occasional distraction pulling people away, I think our story is going to be at a slower pace. We can implement friendly reminders when it's someone's turn and it's been a few days though. Does that work?

I don't personally have ADHD or autism, but my best friend is autistic. My exposure to ADHD is what I've learned from Penn Holderness on YouTube. Power to you both though. And please, if there is anything I can do to help, just say so. I'd really like to make this a comfortable and creative environment.
Ronan felt a stab of sympathy that he quickly tried to stifle with Giselle's initial reaction, though without his realizing it, a small frown turn down the corners of his mouth. He made no comment as she returned to the office, simply moving forward and standing near the doorway to watch. He knew there was nothing to watch for, but still... Appearances. Especially with little cameras he knew were installed in schools with footage that a certain senator or head assassin might get a hold of.

With Giselle's return and comment, Ronan actually tipped his head slightly to one side. He had known their were going to be children around, but the idea of being an object of interest hadn't really occurred to him until that moment. He hadn't been around anyone younger than 16 in a calm environment in a long time.

"I think I'll manage," he finally said with one of his almost smiles, gesturing her forward. "Lead the way."

The classroom he followed her too was eat and orderly, with touches that spoke to the youth that studied there. He glanced around, taking note of where the desks were, where Giselle sat, where there were windows, and then situated himself in a spot that optimized his view of the room and exits. Adopting a casual stance that would let him act quickly as needed and not tire him out, he waited, braced for the dozens of eyes that would find him, watch him.

It was so much easier being invisible.
"I," huff, "am," puff, "so," pant, "late," wheeze.

August Pine was running behind on his very first day. Literally. The lanky young man was sprinting through the halls, bag swinging wildly from one shoulder, a small pink Pokémon held protectively in his arms. He had gotten absorbed in studying his latest collection of eggs when Sunny, his Chansey, had quietly tapped him on the shoulder and pointed towards the clock. He had hollered a few incoherent words around, gathering up all his things in a whirlwind of action, and scooped up Nugget and run out the door. He thought he had heard one of his Pokémon calling out after him, but he'd have to worry about that later. Ecology 101 needed him pronto.

Weaving around the other people still out in the hallway, miraculously avoiding hitting anyone with his bag and apologizing to anyone he startled, August slowed his steps only long enough to avoid full body collision with the door of his destination. Opening it and slipping inside, he clutched at a stitch in his side and try to catch his breath as quietly as he could. A few heads still turned in his direction, one person sniggered.

August simply beamed at them.

When they had finally all looked away, he quietly slid into an empty chair at the back of the room and glanced at the clock. Five minutes late. Not as bad as he had been bracing for. His mad Dash had done something good for him in the end.

"Cutting it close, don't you think Pinecone?"

August looked towards the whisper, meeting a pair of violet eyes with his own green ones.

"Only a little," he whispered back to his fellow first year, Megan. "It'll be fine. I shouldn't do it again." He paused. "Much."

Megan rolled her eyes, brushing back a wisp of purple curls that had fallen across her face. "You're going to get in trouble if you keep running through the halls all the time," she then said in a sing song voice before gesturing to her laptop. "Syllabus has been sent. TA today. Professor Birch is out of town." Succinct, quiet, and delivered with a heaping helping of sass.

"Thanks Meg," he whispered back, smiling again. He'd have to come up with a better nickname for her at one point.

Settling Nugget onto the table where the miniature Slowpoke contentedly settled her chin on her front feet and stared off into space, August slid his laptop out of his bag and opened it, waking it up and scrolling around to find the syllabus. As he retrieved a pen and notebook, he gathered that the TA, a man in a lab coat that had seen better days, was answering questions that students were asking. He paused, focusing on the ladder end of an answer.

'[]'Not the most exciting? I'd say this all is very exciting,' August thought to himself, though he would never point out that his very thesis foundation was being poked fun at.

He managed to keep from sighing. Always the optimist, he smiled to himself as he began taking detailed notes to himself, using his computer when his hand wasn't fast enough. Even if other people weren't excited about environments and their effects on Pokémon, he was, and that's what mattered to him.

By the time class ended, August had an appreciable amount of notes written out over several pages of his notebook and a sizable list on his laptop screen. He scrawled a few side notes to himself before turning his attention back to his laptop and saving his document before putting the device to sleep.

"Catch you later Piney, i've got to jet to make a stop before my next class," Megan said in a friendly sort of way, having already packed up most of her things and standing from her chair. She gave August a nudge on the arm with her elbow before she retrieved her water bottle and began walking away.

"See you later lavender queen," he called after her, hearing her laugh lightly.

"Dork," she chuckled, casting him a quick amused look over her shoulder before she was gone.

"Mom was right Nugget," August commented to his Pokémon as he started to pack away his computer, "trying to go to the same school as your cousin will definitely make life interesting."

The Slowpoke simply blinked at him, but otherwise chose not to comment. August smiled fondly at her, giving her a rub on the top of her head before fishing a piece of dried pineapple out of his pocket and putting it in her mouth. She looked rather pleased with herself.

Quickly writing down one last thought that came to mind, August put the cap back on his pen and slipped both it and his notebook back in his bag before latching the flap back into place. He glanced around, gaze sweeping over those who were still left. He spotted movement low to the floor and leaned down to get a better look. A Growlithe was standing near one of the other students, looking as if she had just recently deposited a notebook on the floor. He smiled again and automatically fished a small treat out of one of his other pockets. He clicked his tongue to get the fire types attention before holding it out in offering.
Yes, it's your turn @Azure Bubbles. I've been checking on you off and on and was planning on sending you a message later today. If you'd like, I can either tag you here or start up a chat with you where I can help remind you when it's your turn. I have memory problems myself and have to set up lots of reminders on my phone to keep on top of everything and even then I have things slipped through the cracks. If I can help you out, please let me know! :)
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