aviate wrote:
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-----------ｊｕｓｔ
-----ａ
-ｇｌｉｔｃｈ
--ｉｎ
-----ｔｈｅ
---ｓｙｓｔｅｍ...
--------ɪs ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴡʜᴏ ɪ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ᴀᴍ?
═══════════════════════════════════════════════════════ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴍᴇ
Hello, I am aviate, but please feel free to call me Avi. I am a current non-owner and am hoping to make this handsome lad my first.
I will be using the name Giovanni, meaning gift of God. The name, admittedly, came from the Pokémon character and notorious leader of Team Rocket, Giovanni. When regarding the foxerfly, however, he occasionally refers to himself as 'The Glitch' when it comes to him composing music, and when he remixes songs on his YouTube account. When in real life, however, he just prefers to go by the name Gio.
What will I do with him? Well, I love to roleplay, so if I do win him expect to see his name somewhere in the 1x1 board. I think I already have one or two friends who might be willing to roleplay with me, so I promise you I will develop him as well as I can do. I will also be ordering and drawing art of him occasionally, and I may even change my signature theme so that it pictures him along with some art. All in all, I can promise you that I will be active with him. Chances are I will also post him in the fanclub as well, and sharing art and development of him.Personality-wise, Giovanni is a strange individual. He is imaginative, so he isn't the best listener in the group. He tends to space out every once in a while and afterwards write his thoughts down on the nearest medium he can use; paper and pen, phone, or computer word document.
These thoughts remain scattered not only in his mind but in his room as well; to describe his personal space is rather difficult. Paper cranes are on the window, painted with various shades of blue and purple. They hang from a string with a few beads and feathers on them, and are to one side of the window leaving the rest of it open to let the light in. The window itself has a wooden desk below it, where stacks of paper (origami, plain white, note paper, you name it) are held under a mediocre clay sculpture in the shape of a rabbit. The rabbit probably comes from a friend or from a sale, Giovanni himself doesn't remember very well. Above his bed is a shelf that has a few other items such as jars with the inside of a glowing stick poured into it and a lava lamp. And then there is a bookshelf to one side that has three snowglobes depicting the Brandenburger Tor of Berlin, the Borobudur Temple of Java, and the Taj Mahal respectively. All places he wishes to see in person one day. Other than that he has a music box that plays 'Canon in D Pachelbel' the size of two matchboxes stacked together, a French to English and a German to English dictionary (he wants to learn both languages in time), and a row of little wooden carvings. One carving is of a cat from Bali (he bought it online because it was so cheap on eBay) and finally a stylized wolf with tiny sapphire eyes from a yard sale.Moving away from the topic of the collector's side of Giovanni, the walls of his room are a light beige in color, but he has made several illustrations such as this one and this one on the walls of his room one day when he felt like he needed to modify his personal space. The first example, the one with a hand and leaves, instead has a lightly detailed paw drawn with two colors so that the paw pads and claws stand out against the base color, and the painting is an impressive five feet tall. The shelves he owns are all a wooden, polished black. His desk is also similar, with his computer mounted on it and a lamp to one side of the desk. The floor is wooden as well, a fine light color that suits the walls. He only has one window, aforementioned to have a string of paper cranes to its side, and it is rather large in size and Giovanni can open it to let fresh air in, but he never does unless he needs to change the airing of his room or something (once he accidentally set one of his papers on fire on his desk but he luckily managed to open his window and grab a Chinese hand fan to let the smoke out before it got to his smoke detector). The window has a pair of flowing curtains that are lightweight and have cherry tree patterns painted across it in a Japanese style. There is a clock mounted on one wall, it looks like a miniature grandfather clock made of wood with iron black hands with intricate patterns, Roman numerals (I, II, III, IV, etc.) and a clear sound that can be heard from anywhere in the apartment room, contrary to its faint tick-tock that can only be heard when one actually looks to hear the noise. The room has a heater that is white and standard in color, shape and size, nothing too special about it except for the fact that Giovanni regularly uses it to dry his socks, it's conveniently placed beside his bed. The bed itself is light blue in color with stripes and no clear pattern, two pillows, a bolster and a comfortable blanket. Three out of four times, the entire bed is a mess. It may be easy to clean up on once in a while, but seeing the bed with pillows scattered doesn't give Giovanni the need to clean it up.
And then there's Gio's wardrobe. The teenage foxerfly is a bit on the average side; in anthro, he wears T-shirts on regular days and will either wear skinny jeans or shorts. At home he wears just a shirt and a pair of boxers, but when he goes outside he prefers to wear the one hoodie he has, which is dark blue with cyan highlights. Sometimes when it's a hot day he prefers to bring the hoodie along with it tied around his waist, and he also has a pair of headphones (Beats by Dr. Dre; they took some saving up!) that he will bring with him. He has a few necklaces as well, although most of the time he wears a silver one with a charm that depicts a ring and a distorted music note in it. It's not his 'charm,' it's just a regular old necklace he usually hides under his shirt when he doesn't feel like showing it to other foxers. Another two of his necklaces are golden and have charms resembling the helmets of both Daft Punk personnel, but he doesn't wear it often even if he still likes their music.
He has some fake piercings as well that he sometimes wears, he's hoping to get his ears pierced when the time comes and he's ready to feel comfortable with it. Along with that, he has two beanies, one is black with little sequins knitted into them and the other one is a light and dark gray striped one, he prefers to wear the former on cold winter days. He has a scarf that is also gray with sequins and a black jacket to complete his winter attire. He has a variety of footwear from flip flops to slippers (for home, of course) and boots, he usually wears Converse sneakers or Nike sport shoes on summer days but will switch to black boots when the weather looks rainy or cold.Will they ever come back?
My heart cried. My heart longed, my heart desired, my heart wished, my heart hoped. My heart wanted then back.
But would they ever return?
Walls built from sorrow and grief blocked me from them. I couldn't contact them in any way. They were gone. And maybe, forever. The feeling of hopelessness rained down on me, thoughts of them weighing my shoulders down.
Blue lines of anticipation threaded their way through the dark grey sinews of my loneliness, stitching together a bond of mixed feelings, a cloth with clashing colors that was made up of all those emotions, a cloth just like the one that was wrapped around my shoulders. I wanted them back, but would they ever forgive me?
I loved them as a family, I loved them with all my heart. I wanted them by my side, to support me, help me. I wanted them to speak to me, and tell me what they had wanted from me, too. Because I had been so sure that what they wanted was me, being a part of their family of closely knit foxers.
Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I had hurt them, but I had never done it on purpose. I was foolish to think that tweaking with their inner feelings would do me any good. Trying to crack a joke about them and using all my effort to make them realize that I wanted to be noticed as a part of them, that was useless. I had to tell them what I felt too. They would not have showed me their cards before I opened mine.
Perhaps I had been too cautious. Too scared, too fearful. I wasn't ready yet then, but now, I was prepared. I hadn't wanted to be a part of them, sometimes I knew I would never truly belong. But when it dawned on me that they were the only family I could ever get to know, it was too late. They had returned my favor, they treated me venomously, as if I were trash. Until I realized that I treated them the same way before I realized I had been going the wrong way.
Realizing that I had seen them as no more than a group that wouldn't accept me put me to shame. I had viewed them as an annoying hurdle front of the finish line, or a tree blocking the road to my success. At the same time, though, they was the rain to my clouds, the heat to my flames. The gun to my holster, the cold to my ice.
For all I cared, they could take me back home now. To the cozy little bedroom they'd prepared for me, the room with a big window that showed me the stars, the room with a single bed and a desk I never used. I had been so ungrateful back then.
A sea of sadness drowned me alive. A bolt of anger struck me. A volcano of my frustration erupted, magma fire surrounding me. I was caught in a delirium, unable to feel emotion anymore. They were gone, they had left me, and I felt deathly empty. I was never going to see them again, was I? The pain was too great; the toll too large.
I deserved this. I deserved my own departure. But they didn't. It was all my fault. If I hadn't rejected them in the first place, all this would never have happened. If only I could hit rewind and try this all over again.
Then I heard thunders from above. I looked up to see the drops of water from above, but made no move to find shelter. I kind of liked this feeling. The feeling of their loss draping curtains all over me. I couldn't say anything else.
They was happy without me, and it was all my fault.
---Or at least, that was what I had felt before I woke up. These dreams... they were always there, like a puma stalking in the shadows under my bed, waiting to prey on me as I slept...
Ah. A proper introduction appears to be needed. The name is Giovanni. I am a writer and composer who lives alone in an apartment on a rather crowded block in Britain. And yes, I am a teenager, and an unlucky one at that. Unfortunately, life has not been so kind to me lately.
You see, I have been having dreams lately. It may not sound like a very big problem, but alas, it is dancing on the top of my issues list. Assuming I actually have an issues list, that is, which I do not. But if I do have one in my possession, dreams would be the first thing my pen will scratch on the paper as letters.
But before we move on to dreams, I will talk about the reason I am now writing this down as a word document and not on paper as I usually do. Here is the story. I am a teenager who enjoys writing and music, and poetry. I have written a number of very long drafts, stories that consist of hundreds of thousands of words, each of which I have never submitted to be published as actual novels. I write for myself, to practice my hand at developing characters, creating worlds and making plots. Although these stories are what I pour my heart and soul into, I have never thought of those stories as sufficient enough for me to win me money. I do not think of then as worthy novels, and as a result I write endlessly. Words flow from my fingertips and enter the documents as data that travels from the keyboard to the computer screen. All of my stories, sadly, seem to follow a river of a plot: a group, a duo or a trio or even an entire family of characters face the threat of destruction caused by a disaster, and in most cases only one of the group survives. As my plots get more and more repetitive I know I must find new ones. I write skeletons before I write fully-fledged stories, but they somehow always end up the same.This story is not going to end like that. As I type gracefully into this word document I know that this one, it will be different from all the rest. You will not receive the story of a family that faces destruction from within... But perhaps our protagonist, a child who calls himself Gio the Glitch, will battle destruction that happens in his own little head.
by balto.
And now, I will talk about the dreams. Ah, wait a second; I think I will make myself a cup of coffee first. Do me a favor, reader, and envision a pause as I leave my computer and my fingers lift from the keyboard so I can prepare the drink that will not quench my thirst, but will provide me with the energy I need to finish this chapter regarding my dreams. Pretend you can see the color of the brown powder as it pours from its sachet and into my cup. Try and imagine the sound of a spoon when it clinks as its handle makes contact with the inside of my cup. And take a deep breath and allow your mind to believe that it has found the smell of the coffee, the rich scent filling the air as I stir the spoon. Feel my satisfaction when I have finished preparing the drink, and then allow a twinge of annoyance to enter your heart as I realize, I must go back up the stairs holding a full cup and having to make sure I do not allow a single drop to slide down the cup and onto the saucer beneath it.
... There we are. In case you want to know, the paragraph I have written above has been there even before I made my coffee, meaning I too imagined the process of making it before I actually went down the stairs to do it for real. I tend not to write this much at once, especially when it regards a matter so small, but I do realize that with limited time to write here I suppose it would not hurt to mention every detail that comes to mind. Either way, I have my coffee with me now and I feel like I have all the needed muse to write, so I will explain the dream I have written at the very beginning of this document.
That particular dream occurred last night, which is the reason why it is at the front of this document; I have written it down so that I do not forget it by the time I decide to explain it. Above it can be read that I have felt an unimaginable grief over a certain group of foxers who I have referred to as 'they' or as my family. This is a part of my backstory that has burrowed its way into my dream, however I will not jump to that topic yet as I have other matters I would like to put in detail beforehand.I did not acknowledge the location of the dream, as it had not been very important to me before. But as it is still an image that sits vividly behind my eyes I suppose it is best if I explain that setting now. It was a relatively dark street intersection, and it was dimly lit by streetlights. The entire scene was tinted a bluish green, a color I would name turquoise. Except I am not certain if turquoise is the corresponding name to the color I remember. It had more green in its tint than blue, and I do not think it is safe to assume that it is aquamarine. Of course, I have decided to drop the topic of color and move on. The sidewalks were cracked and broken but they did not look dry, in fact the entire place had looked like it had been rained down on before the dream took place. I can easily imagine a storm come by the location and then stop in its tracks as I appear, until it decides to rain down on me and my shoulders once more. And I remember seeing a car on one of the four streets that led away from the middle of the intersection where I stood. I did not get a glimpse of the car's license as it was so far away, but it looked like a run-down cab. That would have been my guess as to what the car was, but other than that I knew nothing about it. And that was all I could add to the scenery of the story. You as a reader must envision the rest on your own. I have no idea whether your view of the place is similar to mine, but that is what makes writing interesting, no? You see how many different people can interpret your drawings, and how many differences stood between those visions.
There are feelings, too, that go even further beyond the scenery. I never acknowledged it before, but allow me to write down that I never did hate one family member: my sister, Chamomile. Of course, that easily made sense. She was my twin sister, after all. We had shared feelings. But she did not treat out previous family in the same way that I did. I was a viper while she had been a little dormouse, cuddly and in need of a home. I always thought I could look after myself, but in the end I managed to prove myself wrong.
I never did recount what truly happened, correct? Well, my coffee cup is now either half full or half empty, but I will not go into the details of my cup. Rather, I will now write down what happened and why it resulted in my living here, alone in this apartment with a part-time job and a hope to join a writing workshop. And although my fingers are now getting slightly tired, I will still write this story as it burns an image clear in my mind. I will not let this opportunity slip by me.
Let me start with how I felt within my time living with my new family along with Chamomile. I felt a dejection, one that felt like a ball of ice in my chest. Perhaps it is because I felt like I would never belong, that I would be swept under the rug and forgotten over time. They babied my sister, and that was what made the ice grow colder. Maybe they thought I could take care of myself, and the favoritism was never quite so obvious. Looking back, I realize that they have tried to befriend me as well, instead I pushed them away. The way I pictured them in my head was different from who they truly were. In my isolation I demonized the rest of my family, and I pictured my sister as an angel who was being baited by them while I was helpless to stop her from joining them. The fantasies that went on in my head ultimately led to my own, ah, exile. Except 'exile' seems to harsh a word considering how I pulled it on my own without realizing it.
Oh... I've drained my coffee. Oh well, not everything lasts forever. Besides, now I feel energized to go outside and do something. Perhaps I will have a walk around the block to burn some energy.
---I am writing this with my phone. See that previous sentence right there? I have already made two misspellings due to using this phone. I wrote 'am' as 'an' and 'phone' as 'phome.' Of course you cannot see those errors anymore, as I have fixed them. Later on I will use my computer to fix every mistake I make.
I am at a street intersection and it is roughly three in the afternoon. It is a weekend, so I am not attending my part-time job as a journalist. Sad that my job is something so uninteresting, but I need the money to fund my apartment rent and I need to save up for writing classes as well. Besides, I enjoy my job. One of my friends is an expert photographer despite the fact that he never earns money for it. I tend to offer an article so that I can earn money and split it with him, but so far we have not yet made a deal. Perhaps I will go into more detail regarding him later on. As for now, let me explain my location once more. The street intersection is the primary reason for me going on my walk. I observe the sidewalk and its dusty, eroded exterior. It is very similar to the location of my dream. I do not like staying here for long, so I snap a few photos with this phone and walk on ahead. I think I will buy a cold drink, something like a Pepsi to keep me refreshed on my way back to my apartment.
Have you ever felt a twinge that tells you that you have been in this place before? Because only a few seconds ago, I spotted a cab driving away from me, just like in my dream. Déjà vu, I tell myself. In fact, this is only one of many dreams regarding this feeling. Do not assume that I have these dreams every night, but I do get them often. Three times a week at the very least. I try to get used to the pang I get and the tug at my heartstrings when I realize I had been given a preview in my dreams before things actually happen in real life. In most cases, I do not recall the dream until I actually get the déjà vu sensation. Maybe I should try and avoid that feeling by writing down every dream I get.
---I am back home after buying a can of cold Pepsi. Right now I am fixing up the errors I wrote with my phone while enjoying the rest of my fizzy drink. It's late night.
I have finished revising the above text, and now it seems I must go to sleep, however I decide to do what I must do first. There is still one dream, from roughly three days ago, that still runs vividly in my mind. Not to mention that a day after that dream, I felt my déjà vu senses tingling. Most other dreams are left forgotten, so I will write this one as soon as possible. Right now, in fact.
---
It was a long corridor with shadows stalking across every turn. The floor was carpeted with a dusty red velvet, framed with intricate gold and black swirls that were quite difficult to discern from the shadows themselves. The gold in the carpet had been stepped on by many worn-out shoes, it seemed, because the color had dulled down to an ugly and unappealing brown tint.
I heard footsteps, but I couldn't tell if they were mine. As I went through the winding path enclosed by the walls next to me, I realized that the doors of the hotel-like corridor were plain and numberless. One shadow in particular took the guise of a spiraling vine that lashed at me, but it disintegrated as soon as it came within an inch of my fur. I kept walking; I didn't know why. It was a dream and all I could do was follow it. I couldn't change what I did, and as I didn't know it was a dream I couldn't bend it to do what I wanted it to. And so my steps echoed across the lane, the two walls of the corridor seemingly narrowing slightly as I walked further and further. As soon as the fear came to me that I wouldn't be able to go any further, the walls opened up to reveal a massive staircase, grand and worthy of being in a castle despite its dusty and worn-out carpeting. I neared the staircase and saw shadows poking from beneath the velvet, but that apparently didn't stop me from stepping down the stairs one at a time. Above me was a high ceiling with various paintings depicting an old Roman art style, however most of them were old and the paint peeled like old wallpaper.A chandelier as majestic as the staircase was waiting, hanging above a large ballroom that was at the bottom of the staircase. Still the only sound I could hear was my own footsteps, and those weren't very loud. I kept going, sadly unable to observe the chandelier anymore, although I did glimpse its crystal orbs, some of which hung from tiny golden chains. And yet that beauty was scarred by age, coated with a thin layer of dust, and a number of spiderwebs spanned from one overhanging crystal to the next.
I kept going, leaving the dreary ballroom behind as I approached two enormous doors of well-carved wood and a pair of handles that were gilded with gold and made to look like the roaring faces of a tiger and a wolf respectively. They opened as I walked past, and the scenery changed dramatically. The mansion melted into the distance and I found myself at a more realistic location, the one that rang behind my eyes later on, the one that gave the the déjà vu feeling tingle down my spine.
I walked into a cab and didn't see the face of the driver as my surroundings became that of the dreary side of the city. Everything looked like I was seeing it through a sheet of musty old plastic, or stained glasses, because everything was tinted a sad and depressing gray. The roads, the buildings, the people and the trees looked like they were mourning and yet I did not know why. For one second I saw a burst of change, everything became so normal it was what gave me my sensation. And then it became the way it was before, and the cab drove off with me inside it, following a path that only the faceless driver would ever know.
---And then I woke up. Now that I have finished my story I believe it is time for me to get some rest. My fingers are beginning to tire out and all I can see outside my window is darkness; pollution has made it difficult to see the stars. A few cars are passing by the apartment, some of which have parked nearby, belonging to other individuals who have been looking forward to settling in for the night as am I. And looking at my bed, the sheets still messily thrown across it and the pillows placed asymmetrically over each other disappoint me. I do not feel like going to bed although my fingers ache and my eyes are beginning to droop. I am well aware of the rest I must have and that if I fall asleep now, I will only receive six hours' worth of sleep, less than ever needed. But a wise man must know when he has walked too far, climbed too high, swam too far; he knows he needs to rest and refresh himself for the challenges yet to come. So I sadly save this document for now, hoping tomorrow brings me more to write for my personal record of a story.credit wrote:First of all I would like to thank my friends balto., cynefin, rockpelt., d-dave., Glitch., SuperVerl, and SnowStar for helping me when I faced hard times halfway through working on this form. It was hard enough going through what happened, and I'm grateful for the support they gave me when I needed it.
Furthermore I would like to thank balto. for this wonderful piece of art and cynefin for the divider near the top of my form, and KenazRavenTooth for the second and third pieces of art from the bottom.
Other than those art pieces, all art is done by me.
Ahh. Unfortunately, me and Kaley boy here never really connected quq So here he is, a freshly made teen available to go home with you!
He does have a lot of family, due to being adopted by the sweets family;
Full family tree
Or for ease, his immediate family;
Adoptive Father Parie
Adoptive Mother Nestle
Twin Chamomile
Adoptive Brother GhiraDelli
Adoptive Sister Hershey
He's basically a blank canvas. No real personality, no name. That's right! No name, please come up with a new one because I don't want you using Kale quq
So this is an impress me! If you wanna win, show me you're going to really love him. He's not only been orphaned by his real parents, but also by me quq I feel terrible, but he really deserves a new home <3 Can that be you?
He comes with 5 pieces of art, which you will get if you win owo
This ends on March 1st, extensions may be given if you ask nicely c;
Q&A;
Does he have to be close to his family?
Nope! I can actually care less if he interacts with his family or not. I just posted them cause theyre good to know cx But yeah he can be active with them or not, it's up to you ^^
I can't code!/I'm not good at art! quq!
That's okay! For this contest, I'm not judging how pretty it is. I'm judging only on the content because hes a really personal case uwu
I have a question about the fam?
Oh. Er, well tbh I probably can't answer half of them lol. Try me anyway and if I can't answer, then I'll direct you to someone who can c:
I need his transparent ref!
yes ok here you go
He does have a lot of family, due to being adopted by the sweets family;
Full family tree
Or for ease, his immediate family;
Adoptive Father Parie
Adoptive Mother Nestle
Twin Chamomile
Adoptive Brother GhiraDelli
Adoptive Sister Hershey
He's basically a blank canvas. No real personality, no name. That's right! No name, please come up with a new one because I don't want you using Kale quq
So this is an impress me! If you wanna win, show me you're going to really love him. He's not only been orphaned by his real parents, but also by me quq I feel terrible, but he really deserves a new home <3 Can that be you?
He comes with 5 pieces of art, which you will get if you win owo
This ends on March 1st, extensions may be given if you ask nicely c;
Q&A;
Does he have to be close to his family?
Nope! I can actually care less if he interacts with his family or not. I just posted them cause theyre good to know cx But yeah he can be active with them or not, it's up to you ^^
I can't code!/I'm not good at art! quq!
That's okay! For this contest, I'm not judging how pretty it is. I'm judging only on the content because hes a really personal case uwu
I have a question about the fam?
Oh. Er, well tbh I probably can't answer half of them lol. Try me anyway and if I can't answer, then I'll direct you to someone who can c:
I need his transparent ref!
yes ok here you go
