LEMIEUX, Gaston; Teacher

[GASTON LEMIEUX]

[atrb=cellSpacing,20,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, -moz-border-radius-bottomright: 5px; -moz-border-radius-topleft: 5px; -moz-border-radius-topright: 5px; -moz-border-radius-bottomleft: 5px; border-radius: 5px 5px 5px 5px; width: 445px, btable] GASTON LEMIEUX Nickname(s): --- Age: Twenty-seven; March 16 Gender: Male Sexuality: Bisexual Character Type: Teacher Occupation: Librarian at Alinari Academy APPEARANCE Height: Five feet, eleven inches Weight: One hundred and sixty-five pounds Image Boasting a fairly athletic build and a lean frame, Gaston stands at about five feet and eleven inches and weighs one hundred and sixty-five pounds. He is well-muscled and wiry, the fruits of his labour clearly visible, albeit slightly stunted due to laziness, drug use, and simple inactivity. He’d be much stronger and more coordinated if not for the aforementioned points. At least he can pack a pretty mean punch if he wants to, and if he’s not suffering from the effects of his latest morphine high. Gaston’s skin is lightly tanned, with a few freckles dabbing his shoulders and, occasionally, the backs of his hands. His hair is red and typically cropped short and well-maintained, while his eyes are blue. One can find a surgical scar on his scalp. The most common expression one can find gracing his face is that of calm indifference or simple dispassion. He isn’t one to display emotion outright and prefers to hide it behind a poker face. That is not to say that he never makes any expression, however, for that would be entirely incorrect. Usually, one can find him wearing casual clothing consisting of jeans and a simple shirt; perhaps a jacket if the day is particularly cold. Gaston doesn’t take a large amount of care in his appearance, and when he can simply be relaxed, that’s likely what he’ll be. Other times, he’ll wear suits, the colour mostly depending on the occasion; he has a few dark and light coloured ones. Overall, he’s not the flashy type, and obviously dislikes drawing attention to himself. PERSONALITY Positives: + Systematic Almost everything can be fitted into some sort of system, and what Gaston does is no exception. Most of his actions – if they’re not fueled by hot emotion – are measured and thought-thorough. + Inquisitive He is naturally curious and inclined toward learning. While typically unobtrusive, it isn’t unusual to find him researching something that has caught his interest. + Reserved Gaston is the type of person who prefers to keep to himself. He does not usually go out of his way to seek socialization or the companionship of others. In fact he’d be completely content if the library was empty for the day. + Observant He notices things; while he appears disinterested, he’s typically watching like a hawk. It’s important for him to understand his surroundings and know what is going on. + Intelligent Having been a bit of a bookworm from a young age, Gaston has always been able to easily grasp concepts and theories, and quickly put them into action. It has also been customary for him to give advise – if asked nicely. He additionally has a rather good understanding of his own brain and how it works; it's wired (quite literally) differently, after all. + Independent Gaston is his own person and he hates relying on others. He doesn’t care if he’s sick or mentally unfit or whatever; there are no obstacles that he will not try to surmount on his own. + Sensitive He is often in-tune to others’ emotions, and strong ones tend to affect him. He isn’t exactly emotionless. Despite his lacklustre façade, he often acts upon what he feels and doesn’t hesitate to show emotion when it is necessary. Negatives: - Lazy Gaston isn’t the type of person that is inclined toward hard work and menial labour; he’d much rather laze about and read or sleep. Definitely sleep – it seems that he needs more rest than most people, as he’s quite prone to falling asleep in the middle of the day, although that may simply be the side effects of certain substances that he should not be legally in possession of. - Jaded Another way to describe him would be tired. What is he tired of? Life. He’s weary and sometimes he feels very old. He’d like companionship and at the same time he prefers to be by himself. - Blunt Not one to sugarcoat things, he typically describes a situation as it is. If you ask him a question, he will tell you what he thinks, not out of malice but out of something akin to compassion. - Obsessive As evidenced by his experience with certain substances, Gaston easily gets obsessed and possessive over things. It doesn’t matter if they are people or objects or food; if he is exposed to it enough, he will get infatuated with it. It’s part of the reason he’s a stickler for routines. A quick way to irritate him is to touch his things; he hates it. - Unmotivated He’s been uninterested in anything for such a long time that it’s doubtful it will be seeping away from his personality any time soon. He doesn’t have a desire to do much in particular, and any spark he might have had when he was younger is long gone. - Pessimistic Some people view the world through rose-coloured glasses. Gaston views the world through rain-coloured glasses and has the tendency to expect the worst possible outcome. - Short-tempered It’s horrendously easy to rile him up and get on his nerves. That, combined with his emotional sensitivity, makes him an easy target to anger. That is not to say, however, that he easily acts on these emotions, as he has a tendency to bottle up negative ones. EXTRAS Likes: + Sleeping Not only is he almost always tired, he simply enjoys it. His day is well spent if he is able to curl up in a chair or on his bed and sleep. + Sunlight Specifically, he likes the warmth of sunlight. It's relaxing and soothing and he could just fall asleep. He finds the idea of a sunlit meadow to be extremely appealing. Or a beach. Or anything with a substantial amount of sun and warmth. + Tea Well, it's warm. That's one reason. The second reason is the taste. He favours orange pekoe tea, but also likes different types of herbal teas. He tends to drink sugar-free tea, + Morphine It makes him feel good and he needs it. It's a psychological and physical sort of need and he'll feel like he'll die if you try to take it away. He prefers (and usually uses) "extended release" pills, although he'll also dabble with injections. + Quiet environments Quiet, relaxing, private. Must there truly be a reason? Gaston much prefers them to loud and overly-saturated places. + Classical music He particularly favours pianos, violins, and cellos. He thinks classical music is elegant, as well as relaxing. It also just so happens to sound even more amazing during a high. + Cooking He's even pretty good at it. He favours French and Italian cuisine, although he also likes Russian and Polish dishes. + Languages Yes, Gaston actually likes languages; to be fair, if he didn’t enjoy them, he probably wouldn’t know as many as he does. He’s learnt French, Italian, English, German, Russian, Spanish, Mandarin, and several forms of sign language. Dislikes: - Being ordered around Typically, Gaston won't stand to let someone tell him what to do – especially if they're not even being polite about it. He makes a point to ignore rude people. - Being underestimated Just because he is mute, has a brain that works differently from yours (a fact that is barely noticeable unless one performs specific tests or knows what they are looking for), and is unable to use his powers does not mean that he is a lesser human being, thank you very much. - Having expectations placed upon him To be truthful, he hates it. What is he supposed to do if he can't even answer to someone else's expectations? And does he really have to answer to someone else's expectations? - Seizures He has epilepsy. He used to suffer from generalized seizures, which ceased after he got a corpus callosotomy. Now, he occasionally gets partial seizures, made worse by the fact that he doesn't actually take his medication. - Menial labour Must he really make an effort? He doesn't really feel the urgency to. It's also tiring, and he usually doesn't have the leisure to simply sleep whenever he feels like it. - Overly spicy foods They burn his tongue and his throat, and that’s simply uncomfortable. He’s also allergic to jalapeno peppers, which is even more of a reason to avoid them. - Overly sweet foods Too much sugar is never good. Ever. - Alcohol There are certain substances that he will simply not touch, no matter what the circumstances. One of these is alcohol; he has a rather low tolerance and he simply doesn’t like it. The other is tobacco. Talents: + Faking emotions + Cooking + Hoarding items he shouldn't legally be in possession of COMBAT Strengths: + Physical strength + Quick-witted + High pain threshold – due to morphine Weaknesses: - Any and all strengths are completely negated the day after a morphine high; also includes other weaknesses such as slow reflexes, blurry vision, drowsiness, sometimes accompanied by a headache or migraine - Easily angered, which may give way to impulsiveness - Low stamina Power Strengths: + Can be thrown as projectiles + Potentially fatal to his opponents + Gaston himself is immune to his flames Power Weaknesses: - Pure destructive power - Completely immobilizing his hands will rend his ability unusable - Gaston isn’t immune to other flames that are not of his own creation Power: Gaston has the ability of pyrokinesis. With a snap of his fingers, he can summon flames to his beck and call. If he does not concentrate his will, the flames typically appear just above his index finger. With concentration, Gaston can make the flames manifest elsewhere, such as a tree branch, someone’s clothes; anywhere. The flames usually start out small and grow larger – they burn like any other fire, after all. With concentration, Gaston can call up larger flames instead of small ones. He can cause the flames to appear in the form of a fireball or something else entirely; Gaston can shape and form flames into various different shapes. Currently, however, Gaston does not have access to his abilities; they are dormant. HISTORY Gaston Lemieux was born in Lyon, France. His father was the owner of a prestigious tobacco business, and his mother had married into it. Now Gaston, as their firstborn and only child, was expected to carry on the business once his father retired. From an early age he was taught the workings of the company, the different types of cigarettes, how business worked. He was taught at home, and a tutor would visit the estate to divulge him other subjects such as mathematics, science, and various languages. As far as Gaston’s mother and father were concerned, they were raising the perfect child; intelligent, well-behaved, classy, a “true businessman”. There was only one problem. Gaston wasn’t particularly interested in any of those things. He had no desire to own a business, much less a tobacco one. He couldn’t understand the world’s fascination with cancer sticks. At the same time, however, he didn’t express this to his parents, as they gushed so about his supposed flawlessness that he simply didn’t have the heart to tell them that he didn’t truly have the drive to succeed at what it was they wanted him to. He resigned himself to becoming the owner of a tobacco company that he didn’t want. He supposed it made sense; he didn’t know what he “wanted” to be, only that he didn’t wanted to be the owner of his father’s business. Maybe that was what he was supposed to be, and what he “wanted” didn’t matter. At age fourteen, he was reminded of why, exactly, he hated leaving the safety of anything resembling a “home”. It was late at night, and he was driving back home with his father after having attended a business meeting with him. A drunk driver crashed into their vehicle, causing a rather hefty amount of damage and knocking both father and son unconscious. The two later woke up in the hospital, where they were hooked up to machines and didn’t feel any pain. Morphine, the nurses called it, morphine. After their recovery, they were discharged and sent back home. And then surfaced another problem. Mere hours after leaving the hospital, Gaston began to feel extremely...odd. He felt like he needed something, but he wasn’t quite sure what. He was also uncharacteristically snappish, which disturbed his mother, who was used to his typically agreeable personality. He thought it would go away if he ignored it, so he merely apologized and retreated to his room, hoping that he would get better as time passed. He didn’t, and instead he felt worse. He found that he didn’t particularly care about anything other than getting “something”. He was sweating and crying and he was going insane. He was going to go insane and the only thing he could think about was “morphine”. And that was how Gaston Lemieux was introduced to the underworld of France. He snuck out, something he had never dared do before but needed to because of a rabid craving that crawled underneath his skin. Finding a “dealer” (what a strange word, almost foreboding) was difficult a task enough, but he persevered. If there was one thing Gaston was, he was not someone who gave up easily. It seemed as if the entire world became brighter the moment he popped a pill in his mouth. It became a habit. Within days it was as if he couldn’t survive without the pills. He stowed them away in a deep, dark corner of his closet. He told himself that it wasn’t something he was ashamed of; he simply didn’t want to shatter his parents’ dreams. Especially not those of his mother. He told himself that he wasn’t addicted to anything; it simply felt nice and there was nothing wrong with liking something. It was also in that same year that Gaston discovered his affinity for “fire”; it had been on accident, really. He’d been snapping his fingers for the fun of it when a light seemed to flicker at his fingertips, like a lighter sputtering to life. Another snap later and fire had manifested itself at his fingertips. At first, he’d thought it was merely a hallucination of his, something left over from too much morphine; when the incident repeated itself, this time in front of his father, they came to a realization that he was an “empowered”. Instead of thinking lesser of him, they decided that it only made him more “wonderful”, and he was really starting to hate all forms of praise. How ironic, they said, that their son had control over fire! Cigarettes needed fire to be lit, after all. They made the needed preparations to send him to an academy that could help him with his apparently once-dormant abilities. The most obvious choice was, evidently, Alinari Academy, a school in Italy that specialized in teaching empowered children. Gaston supposed a small part of him was glad that the school wasn’t situated underneath his parents’ noses; maybe he could find himself if left to his own devices. He was sent to Italy with a few bags and supplies, and soon settled into the school, dividing his time between his studies and his, admittedly limited, hobbies. He was wrong when he thought that he could find himself, though. If his parents were not being an enormous weight on his shoulders right beside him, they were being one almost a thousand kilometres away. He received letters in the mail, detailing their expectations of him. Straight As, dear Gaston; a polite girlfriend, dear Gaston; the best-educated friends, dear Gaston – no troublemakers. As it were, instead of thinking about what he wanted to do, Gaston made himself up into what he supposed his mother and father wanted of him, expected of him: a polite, well-educated young man who was a virtual blank slate. Instead of thinking about what he wanted, he only thought about what they wanted. And he got bored. Being strictly professional was harrowing. Having a girlfriend who he only chose for appearances (who might a rich businessman marry?) was tedious. Keeping up a façade of emotions and feelings that he didn’t really have was annoying. What he hated most, however, was the constant praises his parents would send him. Their perfect child, growing up; their perfect child, becoming a fine businessman. Especially since he had never seen himself as perfect, mostly because he did not believe he truly embodied any of the traits they thought he did. He was restless, and he was sick of putting on a fake mask whenever he got up in the morning. Gaston could understand that his parents were not malicious in the slightest; they were simply giddy at the thought that they’d raised their only child into a suitable heir. He could not get his thoughts and desires onto paper no matter how many times he tried; and whenever he tried to talk to them straight to their faces, it seemed as if the words refused to leave his mouth. If he’d been silent for so long, what right did he have to speak up to them now? Instead of speaking, he decided he would show them. It was a perfectly logical thought, too; after all, how many well-to-do heirs are addicted to drugs? He’d intended to overdose, but he’d never intended to almost kill himself. Contradictory, yes, but it had also made perfect sense when he’d thought about it. If he couldn’t tell them, he could simply overdose. Morphine didn’t seem dangerous if he took it regularly, and if he took too much, at least his parents would be alerted and they would learn that their son really wasn’t as wonderful as they thought he was. What ended up happening instead was that his lungs just about stopped functioning and he had a seizure. He was found through sheer luck (the sound of someone choking or an animal dying tends to be quite unpleasant) and immediately transferred to a nearby hospital. Among his treatment regimen was naloxone, which, while reversing most of the effects of his drug overdose, also sent him headlong into a horrendous withdrawal period. His parents, who had flown to Italy the minute they’d heard of his condition, were, needless to say, rather disappointed. Actually – that would be understating it. They decided that they couldn’t possibly have their son lurking at a school that was obviously a bad influence on him. Thus, at nineteen, Gaston was figuratively hauled back to France, where his education – barring that of his abilities, of course – continued. It seemed as if all was well. Gaston managed to get his hands on morphine again, as drug addicts are apt to do if they don’t actually have a desire to quit, and he’d at least managed to partially communicate his message to his mother and father. He was nearing the point where his own self-confidence had grown to where he was willing to simply outright say that he had no interest in his father’s business, when he had another seizure. Approximately three months had passed since his overdose, and he had had nothing resembling a seizure during that time. To be truthful, it was almost completely unrecognizable – he’d stopped hearing and seeing and listening for about ten seconds, but he’d still seemed to be “conscious”. He didn’t know what it was, so he ignored it. A few days later, he had another seizure, this one worse. When he was conscious again, he was in the hospital with his mother, who had taken him there. He was diagnosed with epilepsy, and given medication that would help control the symptoms. He didn’t take them. Over the next few months, his seizures continued, some less severe and some worse. Most of the time, it took him a while to remember what, exactly, had occurred; sometimes, he never retrieved the memory. During one particularly bad fit, he didn’t simply bite his tongue, he bit through it. The convulsions in his jaw had caused his teeth to clamp down on his tongue and tear through the muscular tissue. While it wasn’t enough to cause him to bleed out, it was enough to permanently impair his speaking capabilities. While it would have been easy to get his tongue reattached, Gaston didn’t agree to the operation. An extremely tired part of his brain told him that he didn’t need to talk if he didn’t want to do anything. And there was also the issue of his father’s business. If he didn’t talk, there would be no need for him to own it, for a mute businessman was completely useless. He was partially right at least, for following the incident, his father and mother ceased speaking of the company around him, and he was left to his own devices. His life following that consisted of only books, seizures, morphine, and little else. His father had grown bored of a son who no longer met his expectations, and Gaston had gotten bored with life. His seizures grew worse until, when he was twenty-three, it was decided that he should get a corpus callosotomy – an operation which would split the left brain hemisphere from the right. Since it seemed as if his epileptic medication had no effect, this was the second step; a callosotomy would lessen the severity of his seizures and stop them from spreading to the entirety of his brain. This operation he did consent to, and the next several months were spent getting used to the new state of his brain. Simple tasks were difficult or even impossible to do; he sometimes had difficulty recalling words; and he had frequent headaches. After a while, though, these symptoms disappeared, and much of his time was spent learning and understanding the function of his brain. His seizures decreased, until they rarely struck him. That, at least, was an improvement. The one thing he hated, though, was that he was no longer able to use his pyrokinesis. No matter how many times he tried to grasp at flames with his mind, they evaded him, and no matter how many times he snapped his fingers, fire would not come to life at the tips. Nothing was happening. He was bored. His life passed stagnantly before his eyes. He still had no idea what he wanted or what he wanted to do; he’d gotten out of his father’s tobacco company, and at what cost? There was no purpose to his life, and if anything he was more depressed than before. And finally, he was fed-up of doing absolutely nothing. Surely there was something more to life than staring up at a ceiling? It was with that new bout of willpower that he searched for something to do – nothing too difficult of course, though, since menial labour was simply tedious. He remembered Alinari Academy, and, upon learning that a librarian was needed, he decided to apply. He liked books, after all, and how difficult could that be? At the very least it would give him a sense of purpose. MISCELLANEOUS Alias: Chiii desu~~! Other Characters: Evelina Valentino, Artemisia Nicolau Faceclaim: UMINEKO NO NAKU KORO NI, Ushiromiya Battler; gaston lemieux

coded by heroin of gangnam style for skin to bone use only

[HEROIN]

Accepted~