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rhysismydaddy · 4 years

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Naughty Neighbors pt. 4 (Elriel)

I’m thinking there’s going to be two/three more parts to this. I know it’s longer than what I usually put out, but I did mention it’s a slow burn, so... Idk. I really like it and want to keep writing it.

DRUNK NOTE: thank god I wrote this earlier because i’m too far gone to do much editing hahah sorry if there’s errors also sorry it’s short

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~Elain~

For exactly three horrible seconds of Elain’s life, he doesn’t move. He doesn’t so much as breathe as she stands there, holding him to her, mouth pressed against his.

It’s absolutely horrifying.

But then he pulls back just enough to murmur, “Holy fuck, Elain.”

And then he kisses her.

Walking forward, he presses her against the wall, sheltering her with his body and caging her in.

She’s quickly becoming addicted to the way his chest is pressed against hers, hard muscle dragging against her now-heavy breasts in a way that makes her pant.

But that’s nothing compared to the addiction she was forming for how he kissed her.

It’s deep and heavy and so seductive her knees go a bit weak. He--Azriel--seems to notice and slides a knee in between her legs, which helps keep her upright but does absolutely no favors for the growing ache at the apex of her thighs.

Gods above.

Elain shoves her hands in his hair to keep him close to her, and his go to her hips, then slide around to her backside, then run across her waist. He’s everywhere, hands and body surveying every inch of her, but his mouth moves consistently slow against hers.

She feels like he can’t get enough of her, like she's driving him crazy. And she fucking loves it, because she’s never felt like this before.

Never... been kissed like this before.

He moves to her neck, then down to the top of her breasts. “Azriel,” she moans. Or maybe begs.

His head snaps up, eyes meeting hers instantly. His usual honey and moss colored eyes are dark, lined with urgency and desire and maybe just a little crazy. “That’s going to be the fucking death of me.”

Before she can analyze that, they’re kissing again, and Elain can’t stop herself from running her hands over his chest and abs, then pulling him even closer.

Azriel presses his hips into hers, and she gasps into his mouth, making him smile. She reaches behind her to open the door and take him inside, but he stops her with a hand on her wrist.

“Elain.”

Still a little breathless, she whispers, “What?”

Taking a healthy step away from her, he shakes his head and says, “We can’t... I’m not going in there.”

“What?” she repeats, beyond confused. She’d thought he’d wanted to... and his body had definitely wanted to...

“I’m not taking you to bed while you belong to another man, Elain.”

“I don’t belong to anyone.”

“Maybe not your body,” he agrees, placing a wide hand on her chest, right above her heart. “But I want this to be mine. And you’re going to give it to me.”

Her mouth is open, probably grazing the floor, but she just stares at him in disbelief. Azriel smiles softly, runs a thumb over her bottom lip, then kisses her cheek. “Goodnight, Elain.”

Then he turns and goes inside his apartment, the door shutting between them with a deafeningly quiet click.

~Azriel~

Yeah, I’m one dumb motherfucker.

I had the girl I’d been pathetically pining for finally kissing me, finally admitting she wants me, and I told her I wasn’t going to have sex with her.

And where does that leave me? With a fucking painful erection and the urge to put my fist through a wall.

I head straight for the bathroom and turn the shower to the coldest setting possible. But even as the ice water runs over me, my blood continues to thrum.

Good gods, I want to kiss her again.

I want to kiss her all the time.

Her full mouth fits mine perfectly, and the way she kissed me... no cold shower is going to get me to forget that. Not to even mention the way her body felt under my hands, the soft curves practically begging to be touched.

Shoving my head against the tile, I try to ignore all that. But it doesn’t do an ounce of good, because then I think about the way she said my name.

It was so natural for her, even though she’d learned it ten minutes before. She’d said it like it was everything to her, like a precious gift she’d never return.

By the time I cut the shower off and flop in bed, I’m exhausted, so when the phone rings, I ignore it and shut my eyes. But it rings again, and I see that it’s Mor, so I answer. “What?”

“Wow, thank you for that heart-warming greeting,” she teases. “Bad night?”

“No, I’m just-” thinking about Elain and don’t want to talk to you at the moment, “tired.”

Thing about Mor is, she can always tell when I’m lying.

“Something happened! What happened?”

“She kissed me,” I tell my best friend, smile on my face.

Mor howls on the other end of the line, making me laugh. “I told you making her jealous would work!”

“Yeah, yeah, you were right. It worked. She wanted to...” Cursing, I cut myself off. She doesn’t need to know everything.

She, apparently, doesn’t hold that belief. “And did you?”

“No, we didn’t. I want her... I want her to love me first, Mor.”

She’s quiet for a few moments, but then she says softly, “You really like her, huh?” I stay quiet, but it’s answer enough. “Then make her fall in love with you.”

“Oh, I plan on it,” I chuckle, because it’s true. Now that I know what I’m missing, I don’t want to waste another minute without it. “But I have to be well-rested to trick fair maidens into loving me, so goodnight. Love you.”

“Love you too, stupid.”

I hang up and stare at the ceiling, still smiling like an idiot.

My very helpful brain thinks about Elain on the other side of that wall, lying in bed doing the same thing, thinking about me.

I tell it to shut up and go to sleep, but the stupid bastard doesn’t listen.

The last thing I think before finally falling asleep is that I can’t fucking wait to see Elain tomorrow.

Elain doesn’t go to work all week.

I know because it’s Friday, and I’ve been by the store every single day since Monday. Some girl named Christine has been there, and she gives me a weird look every time she notices me peeking in.

Honestly, I don’t get it.

Last time she tried to avoid me, she was embarrassed and knew I’d tease her. This time... I didn’t do anything wrong, right?

Maybe she’s sick.

Or maybe she just feels guilty. That’s probably it. I haven’t heard the boyfriend come around this week, and she’s not the kind of girl to dump someone over the phone. So maybe she’s waiting until she sees him and ends things to see me.

The thought makes me smile, drawing a raised eyebrow from the guy I’m currently tattooing.

“You look like you’re thinking about a girl,” the old biker-looking man remarks with a gruff. I can’t help but grin and shrug and he sighs. “Just don’t fuck up my tattoo.”

I nod and focus, shoving all thoughts of Elain into a small box in the corner of my mind.

But the damn box won’t stay closed, and by the time I leave work that night, I don’t care if she’s trying to do the right thing and avoid me. I have to see her.

Even if nothing happens, I have to see her.

The week’s been boring without her soft smiles and cute little dresses, and I want to hear what she’s been up to, cooped up in that apartment.

I practically run up the stairs and down the hall to her door, already smiling as I knock. It takes a few minutes for the door to open, but when it does, the smile falls away and takes every last drop of happiness with it.

She looks awful.

I mean, she’s always beautiful, but she looks like she hasn’t slept or eaten since I last saw her. Her hairs a dirty mess, she’s in a raggedy sweatshirt and sweatpants, and there’s dark circles under her big brown eyes.

Eyes that don’t hold an ounce of happiness to see me. “What do you want?”

The question throws me, but I answer honestly. “I wanted to see you. Are you alright?”

Elain doesn’t answer, just stands there for a minute. Then she says, “Leave me alone.”

The door swings towards me, but I jut a hand out and stop it from closing. “What’s wrong? Did I do something?”

Because like Mor’s told me for years, it’s always the man’s fault. Even when it isn’t the man’s fault, it’s the man’s fault.

Whatever it is, I’ll apologize and smile and tease her until she’s smiling, too.

“Did you do something?” she repeats in a small voice, eyes going a bit misty.

The sight hits me hard, and I take a step forward, but she shoots out a hand and shoves me back. “Stay the fuck away from me.”

If it wasn’t the unusual curse that stops me dead in my tracks, it’d be the way her voice sounded as she said it. None of the usual warmth, no soft laughter.

She sounds... she sounds like she hates me. And I can’t take it. “Elain, what the hell did I do?”

~Elain~

Is he serious? What did I do?

The genuine confusion on his face makes the carefully-crafted dam she’s been building around herself burst. “What was this to you? Some sort of sick game?”

“What are you-”

“You tried your goddamn best to drive me crazy, and like a complete idiot, I let you! How stupid could I have been...” She looks up at the ceiling as if that will give her the strength to face him, to say the words. “To think you wanted me.”

His eyes go wide, and she lets out a humorless laugh. “Elain-”

But there’s no going back now, and there’s no stopping the words from coming out.

“Oh, save the bullshit. You got what you wanted. You proved I’m a horrible girlfriend and an even worse human being, so just leave me alone.”

Before he can respond, she demands, “And what was that crap about wanting my heart? You’re a pathological liar. It’s just not enough for me to cheat on Lucien with you, is it? You want me to fall in love with you.”

His jaw is tight, hands bunched into fists, but he stays silent.

Tears are streaming down her face, but she forces herself to glare and say, “That will never happen. I’m not stupid enough to love you.”

She slams the door in his face, then drops to the floor to cry. Pressing a hand to her chest, she tries hopelessly to ignore the voice in her head telling her if that were true, this wouldn’t hurt so damn much.

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Uh, can I just say right now that I’m sorry? Hang in there. I TOLD YOU IT’S A SLOW BURN. Part 5

@bamchickawowow @astreia-oniria @keshavomit @elrielllll @januarystears @zukos-simp @whimsyrhys @lameomclameo @wineywitch202 @thedarkdemigod @captainthefangirlofhp @elriel4life @queen-of-glass @courtofjurdan @nessiantho @texas-shaped-waffle-maker @stardelia @myshadowsingeraz @tswaney17 @illyriangarbage @nicerhero @fancycrowncat @sjmships @poisonous00 @perseusannabeth @cursebreaker29 @girl-who-reads-the-books @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @rowanisahunk @superspiritfestival @studyliketate @over300books @justgiu12 @maastrash @a-bit-of-a-cactus @aesthetics-11 @b00kworm @sleeping-and-books @musicmaam @savemesoon8 @hizqueen4life @maybekindasortaace

#elriel #elriel fanfiction #elain #elain archeron #azriel #elain x azriel #acotar #acowar #acomaf #acofas #acotar fanfiction #acotar fandom #a court of mist and fury #a court of thorns and roses #a court of wings and ruin #a court of frost and starlight

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schadenfreudefreude-blog · 5 years

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This is what youth and adolescence feels like

There are beautiful, wonderful, tender memories from childhood I could put in this story; my childhood loves and my pleasant life in gentle, loving surroundings filled with light. But I am interested here only in the steps I have taken in my life to arrive at myself. I will leave in the glowing distance all the lovely oases, blessed isles, and paradises whose magic I experienced; I have no desire to set foot in them again.

And so, for as long as I stay with my girlhood years, I will speak of only the things that felt new, that pushed me onward, broke me loose.

Then came the years when I had to recognize once again the primal attraction within me, one that had to cower and hide in the permitted world of light. Like everyone else, I too experienced my slowly awakening sexual feelings as an enemy and a destroyer, as something forbidden, as temptation and sin. The great mystery of puberty, which I was desperately curious to solve and which gave rise to dreams, lust, and fear, did not fit at all in the sheltered bliss of my peaceful childhood world. So I did what everyone does: I led the double life of a child who is no longer a child. My conscious life was lived in the familiar space of what was allowed, and denied the world rising like a new dawn to me. At the same time though, my life was lived in dreams, urges, longings of subterranean kind across which my consciousness built ever more anxious and fearful bridges as the childhood world within me fell apart. Like almost all parents, mine did nothing to help the life forces awakening within me, which were never spoken about when I turned thirteen and I got the first guy who courted me and I ghosted because I'm so afraid and innocent and then while I was one of the cheerleaders of the cheerleading squad, there's this musician volleyball player Senior Captain guy who became my first boyfriend for six months and broke up with me in Yahoo Messenger because we were in a long distance relationship and I'm not fulfilling the girlfriend duties enough or maybe he found someone else in Manila. After that, I only involved myself to feel attraction through having crushes and I never had a boyfriend after that year and in my college years. My mother strictly taught me when I was fourteen to only give it to the man I'll marry in the future; my future husband should be the first one to get it. And until now, I still obeyed it and I'm still choosing to wait for the right time and the right person. My parents only tried, endlessly and untiringly, to help me in my hopeless efforts to deny reality and stay in a child's world that grew more and more false and unreal everyday. I do not know if parents can do anything else, and I am not criticizing mine in particular. It was up to me to finish growing up and find my own way; I did it badly, like most well-raised children.

Everyone passes through these difficulties. For the average person, this is the moment when the demands of his life come into the starkest conflict with his environment, when he has to fight the hardest to make his way farther along his path. Many people experience the death and rebirth that is the destiny of us all only this once, as childhood rots from within and slowly disintegrates, as everything we have grown to love abandons us, and we suddenly feel the solitude and deathly cold of the universe around us. And very many people remain stuck at this hurdle their whole life long, desperately hanging on to the irretrievable past and clinging to the dream of a paradise lost, the worst and most deadly of all dreams.

The sensations and mental images with which the end of childhood proclaimed itself in me are not worth telling here. The important thing was that the dark world, the other world, was back. At the same time, the other world outside me was gaining more and more power over me, too.

When vacation was over before college, I went to Baguio. Both my parents came with me and entrusted me with all possible care to a condominium dormitory. They would have frozen with horror had they known the kind of life they were letting me wander into.

The question was still whether I would, with time, turn into a good daughter and useful citizen, or whether my nature was pushing me onto other paths. My last attempt to be happy under the shadow of the parental house and its spirit had lasted a long time, for a while it had almost succeeded, but now it had finally and completely failed.

The strangest emptiness and isolation I had come to feel for the first time the summer before my sophomore year in college (and oh, how well I got to know it later; this emptiness, this thin air!) did not pass away quickly. I found it oddly easy to leave home, I was a little ashamed of not being sadder, in fact; my mother expressed her worries, but I couldn't. I was amazed at myself. I had always been a sensitive child who expressed her feelings; a good girl, when it came down to it. Now I had completely changed. I acted with total indifference toward the outside world and spent days at a time attending only to myself, listening to the dark, underground currents rushing and roaring inside me. I had shot up very quickly in the past six months and looked miserable, skinny, and immature. Everything girly boyishly lovable about me disappeared; I was well aware that it was impossible to love me as I was, and I did not love myself either. I missed myself who loves writing much of the time and there I was memorizing the periodic table and formulas, solving Physics and Chemistry problems for my pre-med course.

So, when I shifted to Communications from Pharmacy in the next semester, I was neither liked nor respected because I was a new face in the Humanities department. They would say hi to me and asked me if I'm Chinese or Korean. I have no friends at all. No one knows me. Boys teased me and then left me alone, having decided I was a weird, distant, unpleasant sort. I took pleasure in this identity and even exaggerated it, grumbling my way into a solitude that looked like a feminst superiority and contempt on the outside while secretly I suffered constant fits of depression and despair. At school I got by for a while on what I had already studied back home, the class was a bit behind me where we had been because I love writing and journalism when I was in high school because I was the news editor of our school paper in my senior year and I was part of the editorial staff for 4 years in high school, and I got into the habit of viewing the other students my age with a certain contempt, as children. It went on like that for a year. Nothing changed on my first few visits home, and I was always glad to go back to school.

Then it was early November of year 2014. Whatever the weather, I would take little intellectual walks, which often gave me a kind of pleasure that was full of melancholy, scorn for the world, and contempt for myself as well. That was how I felt one evening as I strolled through the city of Baguio in the damp, misty twilight. The wide avenue of public park was completely deserted, and inviting; as I walked down the lane, thickly covered with fallen leaves with a dark, voluptous desire. It smelled wet and bitter; distant trees loomed up eerily out of the mist, tall and shadowy.

I stopped at the end of the road, not knowing what to do next. I stared down at the dark vegetal mass and greedily breathed in the wet smell of death and decay, which something inside me responded to and welcomed. Oh, how insipid the taste of life was!

Someone approached down a side path, his coat billowing in the wind. I wanted to keep walking, but he called my name.

"Hello, Lianne. Huy, Lianne!"

He came up to me. It was Lance, the first guy I seriously liked when we were living in my first condominium dormitory when I was first year in college. He is now a physicist and he studied in UP Baguio. I confessed to him that I like him when I was 16 and we were both cool about it and we are good friends after that. I always enjoyed seeing him and had nothing against him except that he always treated me like a baby.

"And what brings you here?" he called out affably, in the tone that bigger kids liked to take when condescended to talk one of us. "Writing a poem, I bet."

"Never occured to me," I snapped back.

He laughed out loud and walked next to me, chatting. I had completely forgotten what that felt like.

"Don't think I wouldn't understand Lianne. I know how it is, when you're taking a walk like this in the evening mist, with 6PM thoughts, you want to write poems, I know. Poems about dying nature, of course, and the lost youth it's a symbol of."

"I'm not that sentimental. How dare you!" I defended myself.

"Alright, nevermind. Alam mo kapag ganito ang weather it's good to find a nice quiet place with a glass of wine or something along those lines. Sama ka saken? Come with me. I happen to be all alone. Or ayaw mo? Ayaw kita mapariwala if may plano ka maging good model student."

Soon we were sitting in a small pub at the edge of the city, drinking a dubious wine and clinking out our glasses together. I didn't like it very much at first, but still it was something new. Soon though, not used to drinking wine, I started talking my head off. It was as though a window had opened inside me, and the world was shining in; how long, how terribly long it had been since I'd said anything I really felt! I started to give my imagination a free rein, and before I knew it I was telling Lance the story of Cain and Abel in the Bible.

Lance listened with delight. Finally, someone to whom I have something to give! Someone who could make deep talks with me. He clapped me on my shoulder, he called me a deep one fellow and my heart swelled with pleasure: I could finally let myself go, indulge in the need to talk and communicate that had been pent up so long, and feel acknowledged by someone older than me, like I was worth something. When he called me brilliant and smart, what he said sank into my soul like sweet, strong wine. The world shone in new colors, thoughts came to me from a hundred mischievous sources, wit and fire blazed up within me. We talked about our teachers, our schools, our classmates, and it seemed to me we understood each other splendidly. We talked about the Greeks, paganism, and Lance insisted on turning the conversation into confessions of amorous adventures. Here I had nothing to contribute. I had not had any adventures, not worth telling. And what I had felt, built up by my imagination, burned within me but the wine did not free it or enable me to talk about it. Lance knew a lot more about girls than I did, and I listened passionately to his fairy-tale stories. What I learned was unbelievable: things I had never thought possible entered ordinary reality and seemed obvious, normal. These girls in his stories have already acquired quite a store of an experience. Among other things, that girls always want nothing but chivalry and attention, which is fine as far as that goes but not the real thing. You could get farther with women. They were much more reasonable.

I remember the night very clearly. When the two of us started home late, past the dully burning gas lamps in the cool wet night, I was drunk for the first time. It did not feel pleasant. It was excruciating. But still, there was something about it: sweet excitement, rebellion, spirited life. Lance took good care of me, even while gripping about what a total beginner I was, and he brought me home, half carrying me, and managed to smuggle us into the dorm through an open hall elevator.

But after a short dead sleep, I woke up to a headache, sobriety, and terrible sadness. I sat up in bed, still wearing my shirt from the day before, with my other clothes and shoes lying around the floor and stinking of smoke and vomit. Between headache, nausea, and unspeakable thirst, an image rose up in my soul that I had not seen for a long time: I saw my parents' house, my hometown, Father and Mother, my siblings, the garden; I saw my quiet, comfortable bedroom, the school, and the market square, all of it flooded with bright light, radiant, all of it wonderful, godly, and pure, and I now knew everything, had still belonged to me the day before, just a few hours ago, had been waiting for my return, but now, only in this moment, it had sunk forever under the waves, was cursed, was no longer mine. It had thrown me out and now looked upon me with disgust! Everything I had so profoundly loved, everything back to the most distant, golden garden of my childhood that my parents had given me, every bless, every Christmas, every bright, pious Sunday mornings at home, every flower in the garden, it was all laid to waste, I had trampled it under my feet. So that's how I looked in the inside! I, who went around despising the world, proud in spirit. I was a pig, like scum, drunk and filthy, disgusting and low, a wild animal taken unawares and overpowered by hideous urges. I, who had come from the garden where everything was purity and radiance and blessed tenderness, who have loved poetry and Bach music, now looked like that inside. I could still hear my laugh ringing in my ears, drunk and out of control, bursting out in idiotic stops and starts and it filled me with rage and disgust. That was me!

Despite everything, it was almost pleasurable to suffer these torments. I had crept around blind and numb for so long, my heart cowering poor and miserable in the corner, that even this self-hatred, this horror, this whole horrible feeling in my soul was welcome! At least I felt something! The embers still flickered with some kind of fire, a heart still beat in there! I was confused to feel something like liberation and springtime in the middle of all my misery.

Meanwhile, to the other side, things went downhill with me in a hurry. My first binge was soon only a first to many. There are a lot of drinking and running wild went on as I meet more friends who asked me to go out. I once belonged to the dark world. At the same time I felt miserable. I was living in a self-destructive riot. I can still recall how tears came to my eyes once when I left a bar on Sunday afternoon and saw children playing in the street, bright and happy, with freshly combed hair, in their Sunday clothes. And the whole time that I was entertaining and often shocking my friends with my monstrous cynicism at the dirty tables of cramped pubs between puddles of beer, in my heart of hearts I still respected what they were mocking. On the inside I kneeled in tears before my soul, before my past and my parents, before God.

I never felt truly one with my companions. I was still lonely when I was with them, and that's why I suffered so. And I never went along with my buddies to see boys. I was alone and full of burning longing for love. A hopeless longing even while I talked like a hardened libertine. No more was more fragile, more full of shame, than I was. I was anxiously ashamed of the warm, shy moods I so often felt, the tender thoughts of love and care that so often came over me.

I cannot summarize in brief about what I learned from my adolescence stage. The most important thing I learned from it was another step on the path to myself. I'm now young adult. I was an unusual young woman around twenty-two years old, precarious in a hundred ways but very far behind and helpless in hundred ways. When I compared myself to the other people my age, I sometimes felt young and full of curiosity. There were times when people see me gifted and creative. They admire how I write and how I sketch and paint. During college, I was eaten up with worries and self-hatred about how hopelessly isolated I was from other people, how cut off from life. They are all dating but I'm closed.

After college, I lived again at my hometown with my family. This new environment gave me courage and taught me to keep my self-respect. The way people always found something valuable in my words, my dreams, my thoughts and imaginings, always took them seriously and discussed them in earnest, became exemplary for me.

I like music because it's outside morality. I can't keep comparing myself to other people. I sometimes feel like I don't belong, I blame myself for following a different path than most other people. I have to unlearn that and I did. Stare into the fire, look at the clouds, and when ideas and intuitions came to me and the voices of my soul start to speak, I trust them and I don't worry about anything.

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victoryroadhq · 4 years

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Welcome to the world of Pokemon, Caroline! You have been accepted for the role of Tabby Fagin. To get started, please consult the new trainer checklist.

OOC INFORMATION

NAME: Caroline, Caro

AGE: 28

TIMEZONE: EST

PRONOUNS: She/her

PRIOR EXPERIENCE: I’ve been roleplaying for about five years now. You can find a list of my accounts here.

OTHER: Nope!

CHARACTER INFORMATION

CHARACTER: Tabby Fagin

WHY DID YOU CHOOSE THIS CHARACTER?: As someone who both loves dogs and likes them better than people, I relate to Tabby a lot. And while I think she already has a lot of solid character growth, I think her position in life where her family gave up everything to help animals in need kind of makes her a bit harsh on the rest of the world. I think it’ll be really interesting to see how she ends up opening up to people and whether or not she makes mistakes when it comes to who she can trust when she’s so naturally skeptical of literally everyone.

CHARACTER BIOGRAPHY: Nope, I wrote it so I’m pretty cool with it.

POKEMON

HAVE YOU BEEN EXPOSED TO POKEMON PREVIOUSLY?: I used to watch the anime on WB Kids every Saturday morning until Misty and Brock left and broke my heart. At one point I tried to watch the Black & White anime, but I couldn’t get over how they pronounced Unova and had to stop. I’ve also played almost every game ever, but I only got to Hoenn recently. Somehow I managed to miss two whole generations of Hoenn games, but I got Alpha Sapphire a few months ago and finished it.

WHAT BABY POKEMON WOULD YOUR CHARACTER BE MOST INTERESTED IN HAVING?: Riolu, hands down. It’s a perfect intersection of Tabby’s interest in dark-colored and doglike Pokemon. A lot of the baby types are very cutesy and pink which just doesn’t fit her aesthetic. I think she’d also be interested in having a Fighting-type since most of the Pokemon she covets are Dark-type and it’d be good to cover more of her bases.

WHAT EEVEELUTION WOULD YOUR CHARACTER MOST LIKE TO HAVE?: I think Tabby would hands down be happiest with the idea of having an Umbreon. I think not only does it go with her whole facade of darkness and tough-looking Pokemon but leveling up via friendship would appeal to her. I also think she would never, ever want a Sylveon given the creepy skin bows.

WHAT LEGENDARY OR EVENT POKEMON WOULD YOUR CHARACTER MOST LIKE TO HAVE?: This is going to sound really depressing, but I think Tabby would most want a Celebi. I think the idea of having a Pokemon that could wander across time would appeal to her because some childish part of her would think it could go back and keep anything from happening to her mother.

IN CHARACTER QUESTIONS

In lieu of a writing sample, please answer the following questions in your character’s voice so we can get a sense of their characterization.

1. Do you believe that people are simply good or evil?

I don’t think people are evil in the way that our justice system portrays them to be. I don’t know why we care so much who is or isn’t smoking pot when there’s far worse things out there happening that we don’t try to stop. I do think there are shades of bad in this world that are unredeemable, shades of violence and abuse in particular. But by and large I’d say the largest evil currently facing our society is apathy. People claim to care so much about things, but not enough to leave the house once a year to vote or to even fill out a census. I think so many people in life just accept their circumstances and grind their life out in quiet depression and I’ve just never really understood that. And then there’s the rich. There’s people in this world that have more power than any president or prime minister because they have so much money they don’t need. And there’s no excuse for that level of greed and neglect towards other’s pain and suffering. Honestly, if you have enough money to put a dent in world hunger, or the housing crisis, or even some poor kid’s cancer bills, and you don’t - well, you’re the fucking devil.

2. If you could travel to any other region in the Pokemon world, where would you go and why?

I’d like to see Alola. My parents went there on their honeymoon and there are a bunch of pictures of them out by the sea with drinks in their hand, my dad said they carved their initials out on a tree somewhere and I’d like to find it - if they haven’t turned it into a parking lot by now. And I’d also really love to get my hands on a Rockruff, they’ve just always looked so cute when I see them on TV. We’ve never gotten on in the shelter though, so I’ve never gotten to up close and personal with one.

3. What Pokemon type do you believe best represents your personality and why?

I’d be a Dark-type. The analogy works in the fact that like 99% of my clothing is black, but I’m not really going on aesthetic. I just think Dark- and Ghost-type Pokemon get a bad rep because people see them as remnants of a bad situation, as shadowy vestiges of something that came before. And I guess maybe it’s that my dad could have looked at me the same way but he didn’t, he found the light in the situation and used it to his advantage. And I’m really no real stranger to the shadows either, I liked hanging out in the sewers back in Castelia City. It was down there that I first started battling and figuring out how much of a rush it gave me and then I’ve always been good at finding hiding places when I’m running around playing Robin Hood in the streets. I’m not really afraid of the same things other people are, any creatures lurking in the shadows should be afraid of me.

4. You have chosen to leave home to raise Pokemon on the road, braving rain, cold, and heat. What do you think you can gain from being on the road that you couldn’t get from staying in your hometown?

I’m used to being cold or damp, I literally lived on a houseboat. I don’t know, a lot of days I feel pretty sad about having left home if I think about it too much. I miss my dogs and my bed and just the general atmosphere of the city, none of the towns in Kanto really compare. The cities they do have are so bright and fun, I miss people wearing neutral colors and not smiling at you when you get on the train uptown. But I left because I needed to try my hand as an actual trainer, not just take down some weird doctors in the sewers. I guess as much as I pride myself on independence and not needing people, maybe being with my dad all the time kind of enabled me to just live his life and not have to figure out too much about what I wanted to do with mine.

5. Professor Oak can never remember his grandson’s name, signifying a possible larger issue with their relationship. How would you describe your relationship with your own family?

I really only have my dad. There’s like a smattering of aunts who used to babysit me when I was younger, but they all disappeared when our bank account did - so I wouldn’t call them family. I think my dad is the best person in the entire world. There are a lot of people that wouldn’t be able to even handle raising a kid by themselves - let alone one like me. I can be difficult, I definitely realize that. I like to do things my own way and I don’t like people trying to help me or telling me what to do. But my dad just has the most patience of anyone I’ve ever met and has the biggest heart in the world. It gets him into trouble sometimes but I wouldn’t trade him for anyone. He’s my rock.

#victoryaccept #sample #tabby fagin

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