(no subject)

[takeoutthetrash]

Out-of-Character Information

Name:Comrade
Are you over 15?: Yes indeed
Time Zone: GMT-8
Personal Journal: comradequestion
Reliable Method of Contact: email: comradequestion@hotmail.com Plurk:gipsydangeresque
Other characters in the game: Don't got none.

Tegaki: N/A
Anything Else?: Nope, that's about it.

In-Character Information

Name: Gershel
Game/Series: Pokemon
Teacher/Student/Other: Student
Canon Point: B2/W2, post-game.
Age: 16-ish
Grade Level/Class Taught/Job: Freshman
Dorm or Living Arrangement: Dorm, will probably just sleep in the closet most of the time.

Personality: If anything about Gershel could be summed up in a single word, it would be "spineless". Not literally, but that's true too. It's incredibly difficult for him to take charge of anything, and more often than not he's content to let other people make decisions for him. That's not to say it's a situation he's comfortable with. It's just that he's not confident enough to really assert himself, and he'll usually just let people push him around rather than stand up for himself. It's unlike him to take center stage and actively demand people's attention. Having lead a life of being ignored and pushed to the side, it's easy for him to accept the idea of watching from the sidelines, and starts to become visibly uncomfortable when more than a few people start to pay attention to him.

Watching makes of a significant portion of Gershel's time, as it happens, from taking in cheesy old movies on his off-hours to soaking up the sights and sounds of the city while out on his route. Castelia is, among other things, a city of artists and visionaries, and growing up there has made him come to appreciate beauty in all of its forms, no matter how unsightly or wrong other people might think it is. This extends to his personal relations, too, and Gershel is always trying to see the good in people, no matter how hard it may be or how unhealthy it may be in the long run. Over the years, he's taken up the habit of keeping little bits and pieces of refuse that catch his eye and keeping them for himself instead of eating them. It's never anything too major, a fragment of an old soda bottle that always catches the light just right or a coffee-stained manuscript that never made it past the editors.

More than anything else, Gershel just wants to be accepted. Being able to walk down the street without being ignored or reviled is something he can only dream of. This yearning for acceptance often leads him into trouble, and he's fallen in with a bad crowd more than a few times before. By now, it should be fairly evident that he doesn't think all that highly of himself. He has a tendency to place people he admires on a pedestal, blinding himself to their faults in favor of focusing on his own. What few friends he manages to make he clings to like a leech, and he would never leave their side even if he wanted to. Because of this, he doesn't take rejection very well, and often withdraws in on himself when his affections are rebuffed. Though some would accuse him of guilt-tripping when this happens, Gershel doesn't have the wherewithal or the social skills to manipulate people like that. Everything he says and does is completely genuine and from the heart, and as such he's a horrible liar. Not that he has much incentive to lie, seeing as he would never willingly deceive anybody unless told to.

Faults aside, Gershel is a genuinely nice guy, empathetic and kind towards anybody who doesn't insult or reject him outright. Though he's certainly not the best choice when it comes to shoulders to cry on, he's always willing to lend a helping hand when times are tough, even if it's at his own expense. Whether this willingness towards self-sacrifice is out of genuine altruism or simply stems from his own lack of self respect or esteem is anyone's guess, though it's likely a little bit of both. Non-confrontational by nature, Gershel tries to avoid facing anything head on, whether it's physical or emotional, and his addressing his own issues is definitely not on the top of his to-do list.

Despite his urban upbringing, his interactions with humans have been minimal outside of CSS staff. Because of this, he's more used to watching them from a distance and has developed something of a fascination with humankind, thinking of them as something exotic, distant, and untouchable. He's noticeably less comfortable when interacting with humans, and tries to avoid it when he can in favor of watching them from afar. Similarly, due to his upbringing, Gershel isn't very well-socialized in general, often waiting for others to approach him rather than approaching them himself. He's easily startled and embarrassed, and it's not very hard to push him out of his comfort zone.
Backstory: To be entirely truthful, Gershel's story isn't much of a story at all. Introverted as he is, he's never done much of anything up until this point. He was born in Castelia City, to an already large family of Garbodor and Trubbish under the watchful eye of the Castelia Sanitation Service, who employ the garbage Pokemon as a kind of organic streesweeper, keeping the city's streets clean and their toxic charges fed and healthy. Or as healthy as a Poison-type can get, anyhow. Ever since he learned to walk, Gershel's been out with his many brothers and sisters, picking the city clean of refuse like a gang of urban scavengers.

Though he and his provided a valuable service, the citizens of Castelia certainly didn't appreciate it. They thought of Gershel and his kind as hideous, something to be reviled and ignored whenever possible, a necessary evil. Even their own handlers at CSS tended to keep them at arm's length. While the rest of his family was used to their treatment by now, young Gershel took their insults and upturned noses personally, growing to see himself as the vile, repulsive thing that most everyone saw. Even as he grew older, he never got used to it, and took to avoiding the more populated routes, picking clean the disused alleys and side streets where he wouldn't be disturbed.

As he grew old, and consequently larger, Gershel began to long for a life outside of his normal routine, outside of the city limits. He wanted to see the world with his own two eyes, rather than through pictures in some old, rotted travel guide. But in time, he came to suppress these urges, becoming content with his own lot in life. It wasn't the ideal situation, but he had a good thing going, and he knew damn well he wouldn't be able to survive out there on his own. He'd have to fight to survive, and though he'd been taught a few useful moves, he'd never been in a real fight in his life. He simply wasn't cut out for life outside of CSS.

It was only recently, when he caught wind of a school that taught its students how to fight, how to assert themselves, how to turn human, that this old passion was reignited in him. After a few long weeks of deliberation and internal debate, he finally worked up the gumption. Sneaking out in the dead of night, leaving his family and what few possessions he had behind, Gershel began the long trek to Final Destination City, and beyond that, Smash Academy. Maybe there, he'd find some sort of peace or acceptance, or a chance at a life outside of eating other people's garbage day in day out. At least, he hopes so.
Anything Else?:
*Fancy shmancy wiki link.
*Move list: Sludge Bomb, Double Slap, Toxic Spikes, Acid Spray
*Ability: Stench (What a shock.)
*Gershel is, surprisingly enough, a huge film geek, preferring shlocky B-movies in particular. The guys at CSS used to screen old Pokestar Studios movies during the weekends to help keep the "sweepers" entertained. Consequently, he's also a giant Brycen-Man fanboy.
*Unsurprisingly, he's not all that well-educated, so Gershel is basically illiterate. He can make out a few basic, monosyllabic words, but as far as reading and writing goes he's completely lost. While this normal isn't much of an issue, now that he's actually attending school it might be a pretty major barrier.
*Human appearance, in case he ever gets tired of being a gross smelly trash beast.
*Despite his appetite, Gershel lacks any sense of smell or taste, choosing his meals based on texture more than anything else. At the very least, he's thankful for not having to smell himself.
*Despite Castelia being a port city and all, he's not the biggest fan of water and tries to avoid large bodies of it if he can. This will probably lead to a lot of uncomfortable discussions about bathtime if and when he becomes human.

In-Character 1st person sample:
[The post begins with Gershel standing in front of the drunk-tank pink wall of his dorm, fingers knitted together and somehow managing to look and sound slightly more concerned than usual.]

Okay. Right. So, whoever keeps leaving there trash outside my door, could you kinda... stop?

I mean, don't get me wrong. I appreciate the free food and everything, but it's not really, uh, my job to clean up your mess, y'know? I'm not the janitor here. Okay, I kinda was back home, but that's neither here nor there. It's in Unova, which I left 'cause I wanted to get myself an education. And it's a little hard to get some book-learning in when you keep blocking my from door, y'know?

Okay? It doesn't matter if your can's full or nothin', just go bother somebody else about i--

[With a broad sweeping gesture, he manages to cut himself off by accidentally knocking his laptop off of its precarious perch on his nightstand. There's an extended view of the floor and a muffled "Dangit!" before it finally, mercifully, ends.]
In-Character 3rd person sample:
After some long, hard thought, Gershel could definitely say that he still preferred the city to the country.

Of course, that didn't do away with the fact that he was still lost.

If anything, it made this whole situation that much worse for him. It wasn't as if he hadn't seen trees or grass before, he'd spent plenty of time scooping up litter in the park to have a passing familiarity with those. But this wasn't the park, this was nature. Wild, untamed nature, full of long shadows and vicious beasts just waiting to get the drop on him. Or maybe he was just imagining, things, but that was beside the point. The point was that the forest was unfamiliar, and out of the many things that Gershel didn't take well, the unfamiliar was by far the biggest concern.

The city, now, the city he understood. It wouldn't be a stretch to say he understood it better than himself. Well, Castelia, at least. He knew every alleyway and side street like the back of his hand, and every weathered brick and chain-link fence was like an old friend to him by now. Final Destination was a decent substitute for all that, but it didn't feel like home to home. Not yet, anyway. Truth be told, the garbodor was still trying to get a hang of this whole situation. He'd been here a couple days already, and everything about it still seemed so surreal, like it was all a dream that he hadn't quite woken up from yet.

A light breeze across his neck snapped the Poison-type out of his lengthy and pretentious internal monologue. He turned, slowly, silently dreading what might be lurking behind him. Slowly but surely, the realization showing on his face, he came to recognize that he'd only been standing at the very edge of the forest this whole time, the Academy still visible in the distance.

Gershel sighed, hanging his head, and began the long, shambling walk back to his dorm.