Obligatory App Post!

Yuki's voting post is here.

-in with 90%-

Character: Yuki Eiri (real name Uesugi Eiri)
Series: Gravitation
Character Age: 22
Job: Creative writing instructor.

Canon: Gravitation is a canon packed full of many things. Music, lyrics, a hell of a lot of slapstick comedy, and even a giant panda robot. And in the midst of all the crack stands one (1) Yuki Eiri, romance novelist extraordinaire. Yes, he writes torrid and often tragic love stories featuring beautiful young women ...while his boyfriend is asleep in the next room. What can I say; Eiri may be many things (a snarky bitch, a chain smoker, and a deadline-induced hermit), but he is rarely predictable.

Not even his boyfriend lover get the fuck out of my apartment boyfriend, Shindou Shuichi, knows all that much about him. The viewer learns (alongside our pink-haired protagonist) that behind Eiri's protective outer shell of cynicism is a caring and protective individual, someone who very few people will ever get to see. But Eiri's secrets and violent past are revealed throughout the series, as we watch Shindou Shuichi bounce, annoy, and spazz his way into Eiri's life, apartment, and eventually heart.

So say hello to the bloody-handed author who feeds stray cats, runs away from celery, can only sleep on his stomach, and is stalked by his certifiably insane family members. His sister Mika puts it best, when she says, "The Yuki Eiri you think you know is an impostor."

A very pretty impostor.

Sample App: Shipped off to a summer camp that smells like the city dump... I guess this is what happens when you miss one too many deadlines? Phone calls from my editor are easy enough to ignore, but a limo full of armed guards managed to get my attention. It's kind of ironic, really, the late manuscript was actually about a mob family. Except in my story they kidnapped the boss' daughter. Do I look like a daughter? This is exactly why I don't sign movie deals, nobody ever sticks to the script.

Anyway. I'm not the sort of guy who asks a lot of questions.

I kept my mouth shut when my scotch was mysteriously replaced with apple juice. I didn't mock whoever it was that decorated an oak tree with underpants, and I didn't say a word when my latest manuscript was sent for by carrier toucan. I remain unimpressed, camp. I've seen people wandering around naked calling themselves cowboys, before... Americans clearly have way too much time on their hands. And while I have to admit to some curiosity about the tentacles sticking out of the lake? At the end of the day, it's none of my business.

It'd be nice if someone would say why the entirety of my class will be publishing works posthumously... but every explanation I receive here seems to boil down to, "If I kill enough brain cells, maybe this will make sense," and like I said, my alcohol's gone missing. So. Class is now in session. Try to stay in your seats today, and if you're bored just put your head down on your desk instead of throwing it at me. That goes for all other stray body parts as well, I'm running out of Shout wipes and this is a designer suit.

Let's start with the critiques. I'd be a horrible instructor if I didn't make it clear that some things just aren't appropriate in a love story--like cannibalism. I know I said I wanted to see "nail-biting suspense" but he really shouldn't make it all the way up her arm. I guess I could suspend my disbelief and say that you're some sort of fetishist trying to make a statement, but that statement is really just, "I have no talent." Whoever wrote this one, you should give it up and consider a new career; this just isn't the line of work for you. I recommend plumbing. Maybe being knee deep in other people's shit for a few years will make up for what I just went through reading your drivel.

The truth? You people are morons. Losers. Wastes of space, and I hate you all.

...but whichever kiss up trained the gorillas to fetch cigarettes on command?

You're alright.

(no subject)

So. What's Shuichi told you about me? >D