#matching abandonment and commitment issues for the twins…

[kazz-brekker]

i am very fond of vex and vax but they are both so fantastically bad at being in love with someone it's actually kind of impressive

[jackrrabbit]

Runaways /// Dabi x f!Reader (18+)

Summary: You were like an older sister to Dabi back when the two of you were teen runaways together; now that he’s found you as an adult, it’s not going to be so easy to get rid of him.

A/N: I could write a term paper on all of Dabi’s pathologies in this fic...I forgot how much I love writing smutty angst. Good shit 👌

I was planning on making this a ficlet so it’s kinda structured like that even though it ended up a full-length piece. Also, Dabi says some bullshit about sex work that I absolutely do not agree with or condone so please keep that in mind.

➠ see also: [homeowners association]

Tags/warnings: Dabi victimizes you, noncon/dubcon, light yandere, threats, cheating, NTR kinda?, mentions of past sex work, degradation, rough sex (breath play, impact play, crying), mild violence, very brief mentions of past child abuse in the Todoroki household, sad stuff/angst idk lol, *Daddy Issues by The Neighborhood plays in the background*

Dabi would know you anywhere.

You’re different now, which makes sense. It’s been years. Your old uniform of raggedy denim and hand-me-down leather has been replaced with a prim linen dress, designer label at the collar. You used to dye your hair religiously (it was neon pink when he saw you last) but now it’s styled back to your natural shade, a color he only saw back then when your roots grew out. You smell good, expensive. It does take him a second to recognize you without smudged pencil eyeliner drawn under your eyes like in the old days, but once he catches your gaze the realization is immediate.

It’s you. You. You.

You recognize him too, but your reaction is different—shock, then panic; you tug the arm of the man at your side, urging him to walk faster so you can pass Dabi on the sidewalk. The rejection stings for a second, but he isn’t too surprised. You did abandon him, after all.

Dabi doesn’t let it bother him. You’re not going to get away that easy. He pulls you into conversation, grinning when you reluctantly introduce him to your companion (who is, apparently, your husband) as an old friend from school. You didn’t go to school—Dabi knows that, and you know that, but your husband doesn’t. Which means your husband isn’t aware of your sordid past as a runaway.

This is going to be fun.

Once he knows you’re in town, he doesn’t have much trouble finding you. Your husband is a very wealthy man, well-known in this city now that he’s moved here. So this is what you’ve been up to all these years? Shacking up with some ugly motherfucker who’s at least 20 years your senior because he can afford to dress you up in pretty things and take you on overseas vacations? Dabi has to admit, he wouldn’t have thought it of you. Back when he knew you, you were so sincere, such an idealist, even in your darkest nights.

Then again…you always were willing to get your hands dirty in exchange for a warm meal and a place to sleep. Maybe you haven’t changed as much as you think.

Dabi comes to your house in the middle of the day when your husband’s at work and you’re stuck at home because that’s what you are now, a housewife. From a cocksucking whore to a pretty housewife with a dirty little secret. He’s getting hard just thinking about it as he watches your internal debate on whether to let him in or not. Eventually guilt wins out and you usher him inside, hoping the neighbors didn’t see a known villain lurking on your doorstep.

You make Dabi coffee (and aww, you remember exactly how he likes it). He gets you to talking, and you don’t seen surprised to learn about his current line of work; when he presses you, you admit that you’ve been following him in the news. Your life, in comparison, has been wholly uninteresting: you met a man, he proposed, and you married him. Very little has happened to you since. After a long silence you timidly apologize to Dabi for leaving him behind when you two were teenagers, and he tells you he understands.

He doesn’t forgive you.

Overall, things are good, he tells you. But you know, sometimes he misses the old days. Being on the run with you, stealing food from gas stations, breaking into fancy summer homes and pretending the two of you lived there. Stitching up each other’s cuts, because one of you had always gotten in a fight in the past few days. Sometimes he still has dreams about the smell of the balm you used on his fresh burns…and your cool hands, smoothing gently across the tender skin on his face, but he doesn’t say that.

You look down into your monogrammed coffee mug and tell him you know what he means.

When you turn your head like that, Dabi can see the tiny dots running up the side of your ear where your old piercings have scarred over from lack of use. Do you remember when he gave them to you? You did his first, running a needle through the lonely flame of your lighter (he offered to use his quirk, but it was still hard for him to control then so you declined) and then threading the metal through his ear. You promised it would only hurt for a second, and you were right, so he let you do the others.

Then you offered to let him do yours. Just one on each ear—you already had an impressive collection of piercings, but you wanted to let him return the favor, so he did. You were older and more experienced and had lived on the streets for longer, so when he held the needle in his hand and heard your voice saying you trusted him, it was the first time he ever thought of you as fragile, something delicate, something that he was capable of harming.

He chose twin helix piercings for you, cresting the shell of each ear, silver band rings to match his. When they were done you pulled him to a mirror and asked him what he thought. It hadn’t been long since he got the worst burns on his face (the ones under his eyes, wrapping around his chin and down his neck) and he was still getting used to the knowledge that the ugly, wrinkled scars were never going to heal. “I look like…” he started.

A monster. A freak. A victim.

“A badass,” you said. “You look fucking cool. Any asshole who wants to pick a fight with you will take one look and know you’ve been through worse shit than whatever they can dish out, and that’s something to be proud of.”

Now that Dabi thinks about it, he probably wanted you even then.

…But the longer he reminisces, the more nostalgia’s going to distract him. He came here for a reason, and it wasn’t to have coffee with you and talk about the good old days. What he’s about to take from you—what he’s about to make you give—is long overdue.

You’ve still got a little fight in you. Dabi likes that. But you’ve gone soft, filling out and losing muscle in places where you used to be lean and hard from the constant running and fighting of your old lifestyle. Besides, even if you were as strong as you’d been back then, he’d still be stronger than you—he’s a man now, and it’s incredible how small and weak you seem now that he can look at you as a man.

Were your punches always this light? No way…and your wrists couldn’t have always been this delicate. It���s really no trouble at all for him to wrestle you down to the couch and pin you there so he can tear off your stupid little housewife dress and tug your panties down past your ankles.

Once he’s got you fully naked, though, you pretty much give up trying to fight him off. It’s sad, really—like you’re remembering the past, remembering all the times you let other men hold you and fuck you just so you could have enough money to take yourself and Dabi to McDonalds for a few days. And now look, you’re plenty well-fed, but Dabi’s the one holding you down against your will. Funny how things change like that.

He does appreciate your submission, since it gives him the chance to get a decent look at you. The years have been kind—you look so much healthier than you used to. No more visible ribcage stretching out your skin; no more unhealthy pallor from going outside only at night. Your hands are as soft and manicured as if you’ve never done a day’s work in your life, a far cry from the bitten nails and bloody knuckles of your youth. It’s good to see you like this, and he lingers for a second, drinking in the sight of you and committing you to memory.

Dabi’s pictured this moment for years. He used to think he’d savor it, be sweet with you, slow and gentle to show you what you were missing with the trashy guys you used to hang out with. But now, hey—he’s the trashy one, he’s the one who wants to hurt you and own you and ruin you. May as well act like it.

Your husband doesn’t fuck you like this, does he?

You’re unbelievably tight for a former whore. Dabi can barely hold out when he first pushes into you, licking the tears off your cheeks when apparently it hurts too much for you to keep up a brave face. It takes real effort to fuck himself all the way into you, pushing past the tense squeeze of your muscles while you…well, you’re not exactly wet, but he’ll get you there. As soon as his hips are grinding up against yours, he’s hitching your legs up on his shoulders and pounding you into your stuffy antique couch so deeply that he thinks it might splinter into pieces underneath the two of you.

God, you’re so, so, tight. Dabi feels like a virgin with his cock buried inside you, biting his lip so he doesn’t cum in thirty seconds and thrusting into you with a rhythm that comes from nothing less than pure animal instinct. And you’re getting into it too. Can you tell that your pleading and begging him to get off you is turning into moaning? Can you feel your hips bucking weakly back against his, reverting to the position of the submissive bitch your body remembers even if your mind has tried to forget?

It’s perfect, right and good and perfect, everything Dabi’s been waiting for since he first knew what it was to want someone—no, not just someone. You. It’s always been you. A person never forgets their first love, right? It’s perfect, except—except you won’t look at him, you keep looking off to the side and sniffling, and that’s not going to cut it. So he slows down and wrenches your head back to center and makes you kiss him, sliding his tongue over yours and trying to see if he can feel the place where you used to have a piercing there, too. It’s kind of thrilling, actually—wondering whenever his face dips into yours if you’re going to bite him, if he’ll come back from you with blood in his mouth.

He’s only got to thumb over your clit a couple times before you’re clamping down on him, your body begging to be used and abused. Your husband hasn’t been treating you right, though Dabi doubts the old bastard can even get it up without a blue pill. Sure, you look like a sweet little doll, so darling and delicate and breakable, but Dabi knows you better than that. You’re strong, you can take it. He knows you want it rough, so that’s how he’ll give it to you—and hey, hey, he can feel your cunt quivering around him—you’re cumming, aren’t you? So you like it. You like it.

He knew he wasn’t going to last long before, but when you cum and tighten and squeal so high he thinks you could lose your voice, the tension in his abdomen rises up and he digs his fingers into your hips and—shit, you’re saying something, what are you saying? You’re pleading, begging him not to cum inside—but, ohhhhhh fuck he can’t help it, he can’t, he can’t, he’s cumming all the way deep into your tight little snatch, cockhead jutting up at your cervix, fucking his semen all the way through you until your slit is smeared white from top to bottom.

Stop crying. Dabi’s sick of hearing you cry.

You’re still pretty nimble, even though your current exercise regimen probably doesn’t extend beyond periodic jogs around your neighborhood and weekly pilates with all the other bored trophy wives. He’s kind of surprised when as soon as he lifts himself off of you, you have the strength to roll off the couch and scramble around on the floor for your clothing.

You don’t say anything, which he wasn’t expecting. You don’t scream at him, demand that he leave, or ask him how he could do this to you after everything the two of you went through together. You probably still think of yourself as an older sister when it comes to him.

When you’d first met the scarred kid trying and failing to live off the streets, you knew he wasn’t cut out for this. He’d known pain before, plenty of pain (icy-blue fire roasting the skin off his face—spiral fracture from callused hands twisting his arm behind his back—cold, aching muscles after what he thinks is the fifth hour spent locked in a closet), but he’d never known hunger. Hunger was a different kind of beast, one that would chew the kid up and spit him out and leave him broken if you didn’t take him under your wing, so you did.

It wasn’t like you had much of anything to spare, but you made it work. For a few years. He didn’t talk at first, but he took what you gave him, so you gave him what you could: food, if you had it; a place to sleep at night; the knowledge you’d gathered in your own years as a runaway on how he was supposed to survive in a world that didn’t care whether he lived or rotted away in a gutter. You cared.

Until you didn’t.

‘Going to be traveling alone for a while. Don’t wait for me. I’m sorry,’ your note had read. You left it in his backpack along with $43 in cash—not much, but he knew it was more than you could afford. It was all you had.

And now you have all of this! Don’t you feel lucky? You have the rich husband who barely looks at you, the big house with so many empty unused rooms it makes him sick, more food than you could possibly eat in one lifetime. All of that, and you also have Dabi’s semen leaking out of your cunt. It’s a real rags-to-riches story, he thinks.

Dabi picks a cigarette out of his jacket and you stop fixing up the buttons on your dress to ask him not to light it inside. How will you explain the smell to your husband? Every move you make, every syllable that comes out of your mouth, is weighed down by despair. You look like you’ve been beaten.

He lights the cigarette anyway.

///

Before he had you the first time, Dabi thought once would be enough. Pretty naive, huh?

He makes it his mission to fuck you in every room of your husband’s gluttonously enormous mansion (what with your history Dabi has a hard time thinking of the house as yours, and considering the way you tiptoe around and seem like you’re afraid to move so much as a vase, he suspects you feel the same). There’s a lot of rooms.

When he shows up at your door again you don’t even bother to hear him out, instead just trying to shut it on him, but he forces his way in. You wouldn’t want to make him mad, would you? Not when he’s got such a filthy secret hanging over your head? Will your husband keep paying for your designer shopping trips when he knows you’re a street rat who used to steal everything she wore? Will he still kiss you goodnight when Dabi tells him you used to wrap those pretty lips around strangers’ cocks for money?

If you want Dabi to keep quiet, you’re going to have to convince him the best way you know how. A cockwhore is a cockwhore. That’s not the kind of stain you get to wipe away with time and distance and expensive clothing.

In the kitchen: standing up, your back to his front and your hands barely holding you up on the counter, so hard and rough and deep that the dishes are rattling in the pantry. One of your teacups falls out of the glass china cabinet and shatters into a million fragments in a four foot radius over the tiled floor. Neither of you notice until after. Blunt red lines press themselves into the tops of your thighs where he’s shoving your body into the edge of the counter and there are bruises on your tits from how hard he’s groping you.

In the dining room: sitting on the edge of the table, one of your legs hiked up beside you and the other on a chair while Dabi kneels on the ground in front of you, his head between your thighs and his tongue flicking over your pussy. You start off thinking that you’re going to have to sanitize the entire mahogany surface before you can eat off it again and then he licks his lips and sucks on your throbbing clit and you don’t really think about anything else after that.

In your husband’s study: doggy-style on the floor in front of the fireplace, facedown, his body folded over yours, pressing you so deep into the tacky lion-skin rug that you can taste it. He sighs in your ear—actually, you’re not sure if it’s a sigh or a growl—and his hand comes up to cover yours. You feel the metal stitches and the rough burned skin scraping on your own and it reminds you that it’s him. It’s Dabi.

(A few days after his 13th birthday, the Dabi you used to know told you that he was going to dye his hair—he wanted to be unrecognizable, and you understood, so you found some old scissors and stole hair dye from the pharmacy and you spent three long hours chopping his hair into rough spikes and painting it black. When you washed the dye out of his hair in the sink, your hands were stained inky black too. When he saw, he looked worried and weaved his fingers in with yours and asked if the dye would hurt your skin if it stayed on too long.

And you looked back at this kid—small for his age then, burned by his own quirk, trying so hard to look older and tougher than any 13-year-old should have to be, and you thought to yourself, I would die for you.)

Now you hear Dabi growling out your name and squeezing your hand as he reaches his climax and you think, I would kill you if I could.

///

Dabi saves the master bedroom for last.

Your husband is hosting a party at your house. Dabi knows because you begged him not to come today, looking up at him with those doe-like eyes, offering things you never would have offered if it weren’t important to you that he stay away on this particular evening. But he still comes to crash it. He arrives just minutes before your husband does, and you have barely enough time to tuck him away on the dark bedroom balcony and pull the curtains closed before your husband is opening the door and greeting you.

Dabi settles himself into one of the tasteful Adirondack chairs on the balcony and listens to your voice, or at least what he can hear of it through the sliding glass door. You’re sweeter with your husband than you are with Dabi, and he should’ve known you’d be, but it still makes him hate your husband more than he already did.

On the other hand, there’s something strained and high and nervous in the way you’re speaking. Probably because your husband is standing about twenty feet away from the man you’re cheating on him with.

It takes a while for the two of you to dress for the party, but finally Dabi hears you tell your husband that you’d like to take a little longer to get ready and bid him goodbye. “Love you,” you say to the old man as he leaves the room, so casually Dabi might not have heard it if he wasn’t listening.

Then you’re opening the door and ushering him inside and telling him anxiously that he has to get out before anyone sees him. But, oh, you look nice like this, dolled up in your evening gown and makeup and diamonds, trying to pull him to the door even though you must know by now that he’s not going to leave it there. Instead of following, he backs you up onto the bed and peels down the straps of your dress and slides his hands up under the skirt, and all the while he can’t stop thinking about what you said to your husband.

You used to say that to Dabi.

The first time it was an accident—you’d mentioned it off-hand during a night when it was snowing and his unnaturally high body temperature was the only thing keeping the two of you alive. “God, I love you,” you’d said, draping your arm around his shoulders and pulling him in close to share his heat.

It had stunned him and you could probably tell. Maybe the next few times were just you taking pity on a kid who had never been told so casually and so simply that he was loved. But eventually you meant it, the little love you’s before you went to sleep or when one of you went off to do something alone for a few days—a familial love borne of mutual reliance. For the years Dabi was a runaway with you, you were the only person he could trust, and he knows the feeling was mutual.

Now he wants you to tell him you love him again.

It would be hot, wouldn’t it? You telling Dabi you love him while he forces you into a mating press on the bed you share with your husband. Isn’t that hot? You’re never going to be able to sleep on these sheets again without remembering his hands on your body, his tongue in your mouth, his cock filling you in ways you haven’t been filled since you were 19.

How are you gonna lay next to your husband in this sad cold bed? ‘Cause that old fuck isn’t touching you, Dabi knows that much—if he was, he’d’ve noticed by now that you’re always covered in bite marks and hickeys that he didn’t give you. How are you gonna sleep at night knowing what a nasty slut you are, telling another man you love him?

So say it. Say you love him.

Oh, you’re going to be like that, aren’t you? What did he tell you about being a fucking brat when he’s talking to you? See if you’re still so defiant when he’s got his hand stroking the length of that pretty throat and then sealing down on it, squeezing gently on the veins running up the sides of your neck, not too hard, but enough that you’re probably getting a little dizzy while he continues to fuck into you. Does it hurt? Your face is turning pink. Uh-uh-uh, don’t try to pull his hand off, or he’ll show you just how good he is with his quirk these days.

You’re trying to choke out the words but you can’t quite make them make sense. There’s something endearing about the way your whimpers vibrate through the skin of Dabi’s palm, how he can hear you as well as feeling you. Oh—could you say his name too? He knows you’re feeling all fucked-out and wet and sloppy, every moan rising and falling in time with his cock stretching your pussy open, but can’t you give it a little more effort? He’s sure you can get his name out if you really try.

And if you’re not going to cooperate, Dabi may as well just dig the heel of his knuckle into your windpipe, because you really do tighten up so deliciously when you cough and sputter like that. Fuck, if you keep doing that, he’s going to cum, gonna cum right here in your syrupy pussy and spill it all over your marriage bed—but no, he wants to hear you say it first, so when you’re gagging and turning red and your eyes are watering he finally stops choking you, loosening his grip just enough that his hand is resting on your neck in a lover’s touch. It takes you a second and your voice is so hoarse he can barely hear it, but then you’re speaking and something jumps in his chest—

“I…I love—love y-you, Touya!” you sob. “I love you! I—love you, Touya—Touya—Touya—!”

And ah fuck it’s almost exactly right, your voice saying you love him, saying his real name, a name he hasn’t heard for years because you’re the only one who really knows it anymore—but you’re crying, real heavy sobs while you gulp in frantic lungfuls of oxygen. Your ribcage is heaving underneath him and—god, fuck—your guts are clenching, sucking down on every inch of his cock, every vein—

—oh shit fuck fuck he’s cumming, and he presses his face into your neck, into your hair, kissing you and thinking I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you—

—please stay, forever.

///

When he’s done, he goes for another round just to make sure you’re going to have cum dripping down your thighs when you go back to the party. No panties, unless you want him to walk through the grand foyer with all the other guests on his way out.

You don’t look at him as you fix your dress and your hair and wipe at your smeared makeup. With your eyeliner rubbed down to the bottom of your eyes, Dabi’s reminded a little of how you used to look—and the reminder is doubled when you slide your legs across the side of the bed and limp over to your vanity, walking hesitantly, your hips rocking from side to side. Damn, did he fuck you that hard?

Reminds him of the old days, you shuffling back to the hideout with that same awkward pain in your gait, purple marks around your neck, and a dim smile decorating your face—for his sake. Oh, and cash in your pockets. You’d tell him that the two of you were going out to eat that night and refuse to let him look at the injuries. God, it made him angry, it still makes him angry just thinking about it—angry at the men who bought you for treating you like that, angry at you for letting them. Angry at himself for not being old enough or strong enough or rich enough to stop them.

Anger, yes…and other things too. There had been a sick, insidious part of him that wanted to be in their position. He’d hated himself for it back then, until you left and the desire to punish you for abandoning him got twisted up with the desire to own you and keep you his. Maybe if he let himself think about it, he’d still hate himself for what he’s doing to you.

By now, you’re too good at covering up the bruises. A sweep of foundation and powder passes over each hickey he left on your throat and it’s like he never touched you. You have to push him off the bed so you can strip the sheets and replace them. When you’re done, you tell him to wait a few minutes after you leave to sneak out the back and he makes another half-joke about joining the party and introducing himself to your old man—

—and you shove him up against the wall with all the strength left in you, wrap your hand around his neck, and dig your fingernails under the line of piercings in his cheek. If he even looks at your husband, if he even thinks about it, you’ll rip his goddamn face open, you tell him in a low snarl.

It’s an empty threat (you and he both know who would win in a physical altercation) but there’s real hatred behind it. Dabi hasn’t seen that kind of fire in your eyes since he found out you became a trophy wife. It makes him want to have you again so he does, pulling your arms away from his face, standing and holding you up against the door to your bedroom, forcing you to wrap your arms around his neck and cling to him to keep from falling.

He’s lubed up by his own cum, and the wet squelching of your pussy just reminds him what a mess you’re going to be when you return to high society tonight. Maybe your husband will be able to smell it on you—the cum, the sex, the other man who’s been keeping his darling wife warm while he’s at work.

Well, probably not. If that stupid fucking cuckold hasn’t figured it out by now, there’s not much of a chance he’ll get it on his own. As Dabi sinks into your tight, gummy cunt again, he decides that he might just have to help the process along. A man deserves to know if his wife is being unfaithful, right?

///

Your husband’s office phone number is written on a post-it note that’s tacked to the desk of his study. It takes Dabi 40 minutes and $30 to buy a burner cell phone, leave a message on the man’s voicemail, and toss the burner in the kitchen trash at your house while you’re in the shower.

The message is short and straightforward. Dabi introduces himself as ‘the man who’s sleeping with your wife’, describes the floor plan of your husband’s house and what position he fucked you in for each room, and finally finishes it off with the evidence—the precise size and location of every hickey he’s left on your body that will still be visible by the time your husband returns from work.

Dabi almost wishes your husband had picked up the call—he’d’ve had a good time explaining in pornographic detail the way your tits look under those too-formal dresses, the way you moan when you cum in his mouth, the way you told him you loved him while he choked you out—with your husband in the house, no less. But this is fine too.

Besides, it’ll be so fucking funny if someone else at your husband’s company hears the message before he does.

///

Whore. Your husband called you a whore.

You’ve been called a whore a lot, actually. More than most people. You should be used to it by now. But it’s different when your husband says it. Your husband, the man who rescued you from a life of poverty and starvation, the man who has given you everything you own, the man who slid a ring onto your finger under a wedding arch and promised to love you in good times and in bad. The man you’ve almost convinced yourself you love back.

He called you a whore and slapped you when you tried to explain yourself and shoved you out the door and locked it. You can still hear his voice telling you the only place he wants to see your face again is in a casket.

So that’s why when Dabi comes to collect you, you’re hugging your knees to your chest on your front porch in your shiny lace-edged slip nightdress, hair in a mess around your head and your lip bleeding onto your chin. Your feet are so cold—your husband didn’t even give you time to put shoes on before he threw you out.

The night is cool and dark but the porch light buzzes on for half a minute when Dabi climbs up the steps to come crouch next to you on the doorstep. You try not to look at him, but he tilts your face toward his, electric-blue eyes skimming over the red mark and blue-black discoloration blossoming across your cheekbone; the blood drying on your split lip.

Dabi asks calmly if your husband hit you, and you nod.

Good, he tells you, and his body lights up blue in a roiling cloud of flames. He’s been waiting for an excuse to kill that old fuck.

The fire is like lightning, bright and ghostly in the darkness. The crackling of the flame eats away at the heavy silence of the night and you crawl back from the dry heat of it, sure you can feel your eyebrows singeing from being near. Dabi looks different backed by the inferno—bigger, crueler. Frightening. He reaches at the door but you shout at him to stop.

Why? Don’t you think he should suffer, after what he did to you?

But your fists clench by your sides and you set your teeth and you tell Dabi that if he’s going to kill your husband, he may as well set himself on fire too, because it’s his fault in the first place. And he’s done a lot worse to you than one slap.

Dabi waits a moment, searching your alarmed expression for something, but whatever he’s hoping for you don’t give him and the flames go out. The air smells like smoke and his hands are hot—not burning, but uncomfortably hot—when he kneels in front of you and rubs a thumb over your bruised cheek.

“(Y/N)—” Dabi starts, and then he can’t find a way to finish. So he just gathers you up in his arms and carries you bridal-style down into the lawn and to the driveway, where he’s got a car waiting to take you guys back to his place. You don’t resist, which surprises him again. He thought you’d push away at him, scream, get angry—he thought he’d have to convince you. Or force you, like he usually does. But you just let him deposit you in the seat next to the driver’s.

Before he gets in, he asks you if you need anything from your house. He can go get it for you. See if any balding motherfucker in his forties can stop him. But you just shake your head.

“There’s nothing,” you say blankly. “I have nothing. I…have nothing.”

Just like back then.

“Not nothing,” Dabi tells you, turning forward to the road so you can’t see the look on his face. “You have me.”

///

In the end, he does understand. He understood it the second he held that goodbye note in his hands and knew you were lost to him.

You were 17 when you met him and 19 when you left—hardly older than a child yourself. You barely had enough to provide for your own needs, much less a teenage boy’s. By the time you left, Dabi was more than capable of surviving on his own and already falling into ugly crowds, gangs and syndicates who saw money in his quirk, people you’d sacrificed a lot to keep him away from. He no longer needed you, and it was time for you two to go your separate ways. Dabi understands that.

But now you need him. Just like you needed him when you were fucking strangers for food money; like you needed him when you ran away; like you needed him when you got trapped in this mundane, sparkling-clean life, a life that was never going to fit you. Only this time—this time, Dabi’s old enough for you. He’s not a kid anymore, he’s a man. He’s got an apartment and a good job (well, kind of) and he’s got money. He can provide for you the way you’ve always needed him to.

Dabi’s going to take care of you, and you’re never, ever going to leave.

[drtenebres]

who are the most developed/most focused on characters right now??

Thanks for the ask!! It’s hard to say who is the most developed character right now, due to so many brain cells trying to work together, but we’ve all got our own individual ones we’re working on that we feel the strongest about !

@shslstraws :

blah blah blah this is where jude talks about oumota -Snelly (SHAAAAADDUPPPPP -Straws) 

Kaito (My beloved) - A commonfolk who was oblivious by the magic world around him until he inevitably is pushed to it, by living his new life as a Tenebroso werewolf. The cause for how he became a werewolf is unknown, and he tries to keep away from his friends and family to protect them from this “curse”. Kaito gets in a mix of mages and eventually meets with Kokichi, a plague doctor who claims he can cure him. He slowly realizes and comes to face the reality that is Tenebres. 

Kokichi (Most developed??) - A mage who lived in an orphanage until he gets adopted by two mages, Nagito and Hajime. Kokichi dreams of being far powerful than both his dads and going back to recruit the other orphanage kids to his upcoming organization. Until he gets a set back when he takes things too far with the magi academy, he gets demoted to a Plague Doctor; a low status of a mage. It is until he meets Kaito, on one of his duties, and believes if he figures out the mystery behind Tenebrosos, he will earn the right to regain his place back in the academy. 

Shuichi (Most Focused on ATM) - Born from the great Kyoko Kirigiri and Makoto Naegi, there are a lot of expectations put upon Shuichi since he was very young. The expectations were too high and too heavy to carry that Shuichi decided to leave behind that life and the Kirigiri name. He meets up with Rantaro who gives him the ability of a werewolf, and thinks he can finally start anew. Until he faces the same problems with being a werewolf and being part of a pack, Shuichi decides to live amongst the commonfolk with his new friends Kaito, Kaede, and Maki by his side. 

@baylardian-1 :

Kyoko (Most focused on) - A detective who grew up working under a large magefolk entity in the specific branch that deals with magic-based crimes. Kyoko is telepathic with a hindered use of magic due to a strange curse covering both of her hands. Because of her ability to read minds and the overwhelming loudness many voices can create in her head, Kyoko prefers working alone. Eventually she retires from her occupation and becomes a private investigator alongside her husband Makoto.

Hifumi (Most developed) - A hamster familiar most closely resembling a smitten patsy for Celestia Ludenberg. Not having many friends he impulsively chose to follow a pretty girl one day and has never ceased. Initially out of threat, Hifumi would perform healing spells for Celestia after her hunts in addition to take care of her every beck and call. Nowadays their relationship takes on a more unspoken respect and fondness for one another.

Mukuro (My beloved) - A Tenebroso werewolf nearing closer to being 400 years old in age. Born a mage alongside her younger twin sister Junko, many events surrounding their past are shrouded in mystery. As a Tenebroso she has an unnaturally extended life. Mukuro is naturally covered in scars and physically looks to be reaching her mid 50's-early 60's. She is most often however seen to be disguising herself as a young girl.

@snellymain :

Kiyo (Most developed) - A socially reclusive vampire with a guilty conscience and a sworn duty to feed by killing swiftly rather than turning anyone else into a vampire; since he hates his vampirism and his sister that cursed him with it. Has a huge fondness for humans and anthropology after his controlling sister's hatred for them caused him to have extremely limited interactions with them. Ends up committed to a mage named Angie while the unwanted spirit of his sister began haunting him after many years of being dead.

Mahiru (Most focused on) - A standard mage with very little powers and a high respect for her non-mage mother, matching her disdain for her mage father. She got into photography as she had no attachment to her underwhelming magic, until her mother urged her to go to an academy so she wouldn't let her powers go to waste like her father did. After doing so, being out in the world more, she met Hiyoko and Hiro; in which she happily adopted the former and angrily married the latter.

Angie (My beloved) - A healing-based blood mage raised communally on an island, she heals others wounds with their own blood and often secretly takes their blood for her own use while doing so; mostly to feed her partner Kiyo, but she also has a fascination for blood of her own, initially being a result of her village's blood sacrifices and now a result of her blood magic. Generally a loud nuisance, though a medically helpful nuisance, in her academy.

@samsquatchem :

Doodle + blurb done by Snelly ♥

Yasuhiro (Their beloved) - A nomadic powerful mage with a wide variety of powers, mostly focusing on clairvoyance and near-limitless telekinesis; generally wanders around getting money wherever he can but spending it horrendously, ending up in a constant flat circle of time. He’s basically homeless; not out of poverty but what he considers convenience and tax evasion, for the most part and bums around Mahiru’s place. Close friends and a father figure to Hiyoko, (much to Mahiru’s initial dismay) the two bond over their shared tendency to wander and be in a new place every week + magic that neither know how to use properly, she became quickly attached to him due to him being the first person to talk to her after she ran away from home. Hiro is able to see the future but unable to speak it verbatim or else the opposite outcome will come to fruition, he can only nudge clients in the right direction of his visions. Most people think his magic is a scam and he’s the most useless mage ever.

@sutexii :

Chiaki (My Beloved) - A wooden mask enchanted with a human soul, powered by dream juice and magic robotics. Created by Chihiro to live in the dream realm (where u go when u sleep + also where the killing games take place) to gather data on it for Chihiro’s research, and help those in it travel safely. Has a deep fascination with the unpredictable and strange, and enjoys seeking out new knowledge wherever she can. Still likes her games, and while originally given access to some to help entertain those she’s traveling with, she just ends up hoarding them herself.

Tenko (Most Focused On ATM) - Commonfolk w/ a smidge of monster that comes out when her anger peaks. Abandoned due to said anger issues as a child, and taken in by Aoi and Sakura. She had a very Ghibli idyllic childhood, having adventures with friends and delivering donuts for her mom. Learned martial arts from her mom, taking a particular liking to Aikido, and through it learned to control her anger. Follows childhood crush Himiko around to protect her, leading to her entering the less than legal artifact smuggling trade with her later in life.

Aoi (Most Developed) - Water elemental with a love for baking donuts and raising/rehabilitating carp. Married to Sakura, having met when she wandered into the pond in her family’s abandoned dojo and decided to stay to fix it up, motivating Sakura to fix the rest of the place up in turn. Very carefree, friendly, and laid back, loves kids and taking on the “fun auntie” role. Never worked on her humanoid appearance much at all until motherhood, Tenko enters their life and it became hard to hold back a feral monster baby with fins.

@Soupcifer_ :

Nekomaru (Franken-maru) (most developed) - A reanimated corpse who was brought back to life thanks to the help of Kazuichi and Mikan. Unfortunately, he has amnesia and thus no recollection of his past friendships and family. He's a lot more quiet and mellow in comparison to his old self which makes him seem pretty dull, but in actuality he's being rather attentive and simply trying to understand everything that's happening. He does a lot of behind-the-scenes work when no ones looking like cleaning up after Kazuichi and setting reminders for Akane (still a team manager at heart).

Gonta (My beloved) - A vampire raised by werewolves. He only recently came to terms with being a vampire as he lived most of his life assuming the form of a wolf. He has an obsession with bugs, classic literature, and vintage clothing. Gonta likes to follow around a few of his friends, Angie and Korekyio (wink), and be of assistance whenever he can. He unfortunately has trouble dealing with his vampire nature sometimes due to only having lived with werewolves, so he often turns to Korekiyo for help.

Chihiro (most focused on) - An electric elemental! Chihiro is the creator/parent of Chiaki and Monomi. They have a passion for creating things that run on electricity and magic and as a result created their two lovely daughters (that and to investigate the dream realm). Chihiro also has the ability to possess electronics and machinery! Despite being incredibly small, they can emit a surprisingly large amount of energy which makes possessing large or complicated machinery an easy task.

[sagessoftwings]

hello I just found your blog. could you do a haikyuu matchup for me? these are my following personal info-

I'm a 5'5,omnisexual demigirl. I'm quite insecure about how I look. I am plus sized. I usually like wearing black oversized tshirts with jeggings but if I feel good then I put on a dress or some crop tops if I like.

I am a Capricorn,INTP 5w4. I am emotionally very closed off to an extent where I get extremely uncomfortable when someone around me is sad/in pain/ crying. I've grown up in a toxic household and still living in one. My music taste is basically anything that pleases my ears/is relatable. I put a lot of attention to the lyrics of a song. some of my fav artists are Hozier,Doja Cat,The neighborhood,kodaline, Arctic monkeys,Charlie Puth.

I was in depression around 2-3 years back which triggered weight gain. I developed an eating disorder but now my mental health is better,I'm recovering from my ed slowly.

I love singing, drawing and working out on a daily basis almost.

When looking for a partner I like being friends with then first and then dating them. I have commitment, trust and abandonment issues. But if I see a future with the partner and really like them,these issues don't bother me then.

I hope you don't mind matching me up! have a great day!

HI HI MY LOOOVE!! I ship you with Rintarō Suna

He is so gentle with you

In the beginning you two had an amazing friendship

But you two were so blind when it came to the tension between you two

You two make fun of the twins all the time it’s your favorite past time

He literally could not care less about size, this man loves more anyways

In his eyes it literally is better, more yo hug baby 😩💦

Is so sweet when he’s hugging you, so many kisses on your head

Will post you on his story ‘with the gf fo today, what will we do next’

LITERALLY THE IMPEDIMENT OF “no it’s fine, break it! Break it! It’s fine!”

Please please sit on his lap good lord

Is a menace in the eyes of your parents

But will drop everything to come to your rescue and steal you away

You matter more than anything

Literally will run off the volleyball court I’m not even kidding

STEAL HIS HOODIES PLEASE GOD PLS STEAL HIS SHIT

GOD HE’S BEGGING

He is your boy when it comes to late night drives and just screaming any song you want

You own the Aux when your in the car

He’s a whore for some Doja Cat tho whew

Will work out with you totally but he will stare at your ass not gonna lie

Do not let him spot you though

He’ll get to caught up with the sight of you under him

Gives you reassurance all the time, wants to make sure you feel safe and l know he’s not going anywhere

He also never fails to tell you how proud he is of you

It will be at the most random times too

You could be shitting on the toilet and he’s barge in with a huge smile “I’m proud of you baby”

“For shitting??”

He truly is wrapped around your little finger

<33

[ofromans]

『 finn cole. twenty-two. cismale. he/him. 』 oh heavens, is that ROMAN COSTA from SYCAMORE WAY i see roaming around mapleview? minnie may’s always calling them -CONNIVING & -UNBRIDLED. i happen to think they’re not that bad! they’re a pretty cool UNEMPLOYED and every time i’ve seen them, they’ve always been +STAUNCH & +ASTUTE. i hope i see them around again! 『 jean. 22. est. she/her. 』

hi squad , hope you’re all having a solid day <3 , i’m jean & this is my brand spankin’ new baby boy roman . i’m throwing a few random tidbits and things below but will be writing up a full blown bio once i have some more time to rly dive in . come thru & let’s party ? PLOT ?

tw : addiction !

he’s the son of STEFANO ( his intro here ) , rock star & basically best bud . he has two half-siblings now ( both just babies ) that his almost new mom left @ their doorstep for his dad to raise ( and he likes to think he helps out a bit too ). 

his biological mother left him and his old man when he was born , not knowing her at all ( and yes , resentful for it ). his dad’s recent fiance ( ex - fiance ) also left the family behind for whatever reason without a trace so yes - you guessed it , roman has mommy issues / abandonment issues galore :-)

growing up as the son to a famous musician had its perks ( the money of COURSE & heading on tour with the coolest dude ever , the social media fame , people treating you differently ) , but it also had some downsides ( the money , the fame ( paps are the Worst !!! ) , and people treating you differently ). funny how those are so similar . although stefano did / does his best as a dad to keep things as normal as possible - it’s somewhat out of his control . roman felt some pressure to act a certain way ( especially if the paparazzi was around - picture a lil kid with cameras flashing in his eyes ok ) , on social media as that came with a built-in following , and he never truly knew who to trust as they got close to him ( a) because of the mommy issues probably, afraid of close relationships & b) are they in it for him or for the money / fame / etc ? )

growing up in the world’s greatest city ( new york ), meant that he had access to everything at his fingertips . and he loved it . a bit of an adrenaline junkie , he loved the excitement , craved the flashing lights when he left & never once had a dull moment . ( except for when he slept in until ... noon , sometimes ). new york perhaps did make him grow up a bit quicker than most though , and roman found himself mixing with some of the wrong crowds / some of the older crowds while he was just shy of a teen . at this point , the alcohol & drugs didn’t seem major as he was still able to keep his average grades up & be the great son / brother he was expected to be  - but during college ( he stayed in nyc and went to nyu ) began his downfall of reliance and commitment to drugs . he became more than just the life of the party , and instead , unhealthy + dangerous  - to himself and those around him . you see , his father and family moved down to his soon to be absent mother’s hometown - mapleview , and roman obviously chose to stay in school , to stay in his home - new york . who would want to move to a place in the middle of nowhere that has the name maple in it ? and with his dad’s fiance who he was never all too found of ? anyway . hitting rock bottom felt repetitive & with his father away ,  it was all too easy to hide the regretful mornings & flunking grades . UNTIL a wild night turned into one with roman thrown into jail with one phone call . after his court ordered rehab & probation ( still on probation tbh ) , roman and his father decided that it’d be best if he moved down to mapleview for a bit after all . ( i wouldn’t say he’s the happiest & it’s p clear that he’s on outsider .... but he’s making the best of it ! plus it seems he came back at the perfect time - now his father being the sole caretaker of the babies . ) he’s been here now for about 6-7 months .

personality wise , i’d say he’s a bit harsh , definitely aware of who he is & a bit cocky . he’s extremely sarcastic / snarky ( i like to think a bit like tony stark tbh ) & doesn’t take all too much seriously . on the bright side , he is loyal to a fault and would do absolutely anything for his half-siblings & especially his father . probably the first to throw a punch in a fight that he knows he’ll lose . he’s intelligent ( though he didn’t get the musical skills that his father has ) , and is able to read people pretty well . he’s blunt , but hardly means to be rude ( even tho it may come off as such ) . roman’s curious by nature & will ask questions that may come off as judgmental ... basically know what he says ≠ what he means , but will still just laugh it off without apology if they’re offended . he’s also ... fun , courageous ! and willing to do anything to get the adrenaline his body craves . 

some headcanons ! loves : thunderstorms , rolled cigarettes , morning sun , good cell service , new sneakers , 90s grunge & euro-dance music , new york sports , going live on instagram , sunglasses , fast cars . // hates : his bad eyesight , shy people , littering , the smell of gasoline , long lines , flip-flops , skiing , cracking knuckles , singing shows , man-buns .  

wanted :

the next-door neighbor ( TAKEN BY OPEN )

the drug dealer ( TAKEN BY OPEN )

good influence ( TAKEN BY OPEN )

the previous boss ( TAKEN BY OPEN )

when roman first got to mapleview , this person hired him graciously . unfortunately , due to whatever circumstances , also had to fire him just a few short months later .

the friends with benefits ( TAKEN BY OPEN )

can have multiple of these tbh , with mommy issues , i assume he’s a bit all over the place in this department .

the enabler ( TAKEN BY OPEN )

this person would be somewhat of a bad influence on roman , especially since he’s still on probation . maybe wanting to take him out to bars / clubs / for a drink . or just doing things that aren’t on the ~legal side of the world .

the enemy ( TAKEN BY OPEN )

can have multiple , of course !

the childhood friend  ( TAKEN BY OPEN )

if anyone is from nyc :~)

the challenger ( TAKEN BY OPEN )

someone else with a sharp mouth, who refuses to accept any of his shit. catch them arguing or fighting every time they’re in a room together. it’s always been that way.

the match ( TAKEN BY OPEN )

tinder plot !

the baby-sitter  ( TAKEN BY OPEN )

the person that helps watch the twins when dad / roman are unable to .

the user  ( TAKEN BY OPEN )

someone that’s using him for something , whether that be to get closer to his father / his studio , for the money / fame , literally anything .

the heartache  ( TAKEN BY OPEN )

a relationship where the fell hard & fast and of course it went south fast .

the adventure sidekick  ( TAKEN BY OPEN )

gimmie those 3am adventures !

the secret  ( TAKEN BY OPEN )

for whatever reason , the two have to keep their relationship / them hanging out a secret .

ALL & EVERYTHING !

[hedwigstalons]

High Expectations - Ch13

Ok, art challenge officially flunked.  I managed 12 chapters though and as someone who did not art I think I’ve spent more time being creative over the course of this fic than I have in the last 20 years cumulatively.  I’m still going to keep drawing (I’m actually quite enjoying it) but the writing and sketching schedules are not aligning.

@willow-salix has been incredibly patient with me, it would probably be a very different (and much shorter) story without her.

Earlier parts: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve

AO3 chapter link

Chapter Thirteen

Jeff had been surprised to get out of his meeting and find the memo on his desk.  He hadn’t known his eldest son was coming home so the request that he make it back in time for dinner was pleasant if unexpected.  It would be nice to have another adult in the house.  Maybe having Scott around for a few days would set a good example to Gordon and get him to buck his ideas up; his fourth son was still being a distinct trial on his patience. 

He entered the apartment to snippets of conversation and laughter that drifted down from the kitchen.  Scott’s clear voice carried strongly down the hallway and the sound of his eldest brought a smile to his face and he hurried through to see the son he now saw the least of. 

“Evening Gordon” a quick, curt greeting to one son before turning to the other, “Scott, this is a pleasant surprise, how come you’re here?”

“Hi Dad.  I just had some leave owing, I thought I’d come back and see you folks.  It is ok for me to stay isn’t it?”

“Course it is, Son, this is your home after all.”

“Thanks.  Dinner’s nearly ready, it needs another, what, ten minutes?”  Scott looked across at Gordon for confirmation and got a nod in return. 

“Great, I’ll just go get washed up.  Where’s Alan?” he asked, noting that the table had only been set for three.

“Senior science club.  You’d know that if you paid any attention to his schedule.”

The animosity radiated off of Gordon and Jeff noted the warning hand Scott placed on his younger brother’s arm, urging him to keep his cool.

“Fine. Well, I’ll be back in a few minutes boys.”

As Jeff exited the kitchen Scott turned to Gordon, still keeping hold of his arm.

“Look, I know things aren’t great between the pair of you…”

“Understatement” he was interrupted with a snort and an eye roll.

“...but please don’t make things any harder than they have to be.”

“Fine, I’ll be a good boy.”

“Gordon…!”

“Ok.  No arguing with the old man, I get it.  Now, can you let go of me please, I need to turn the stove off.”

Scott released his brother who turned back to the bubbling pans on the stove and put the finishing touches to the meal he was preparing.  They carried the plates and dishes over to the table between them and waited for their father to join them before starting.  The smells coming out of the pots were really quite tempting, it looked like Virgil was right when he said their brother had hidden talents.  The meat was grilled to perfection and the sauce was full of flavour.

“This is delicious Scott.” Jeff commented after spearing a piece of broccoli.  

“Actually, Gordon cooked, I just did what I was told.”

“Hmpf, at least one of you can follow instructions then.  Did you finish your personal statement Gordon?  I want to see it after dinner.”

Scott realised that the arguments clearly flowed both ways.  No wonder Gordon had been so miserable if every achievement was overlooked and every opportunity to take a dig at his failings was fully exploited.  With every passing minute they were in close proximity, and each sniping comment from their father, that fragile confidence he had bolstered was visibly leaching out of Gordon.  He noticed with concern that Gordon’s plate was still worryingly full.  How could a man that was meant to love his children equally be so complimentary to him in one breath and scathing to Gordon in the next?  He had always been prepared to excuse their father’s faults, the long hours of work and pushing responsibility onto himself and Virgil was an unfortunate consequence of a man trying to do his best for his family, but he couldn’t stay quiet over tonights’ injustice.  Placing down his fork he took a deep breath and prepared to enter the fray.

“Actually Dad, Gordon and I have been busy this afternoon.  It’s my fault he hasn’t done it.”  

“Well he can work on it after dinner then, the next college application cycle will be closing soon.  Perhaps you can give him some pointers.” 

“I’ll help Gordon with his application but it won’t be for college.” 

Jeff, sensing insubordination, narrowed his eyes.  He had come to expect it from Gordon but Scott had always followed his lead.  This new development was surprising.

“Well what else would he be applying for?” 

“WASP.”  It came out slightly louder than Scott intended causing the surrounding silence to deepen ominously.  He held his father’s gaze and set his jaw in determination.  He had committed to supporting Gordon and was prepared to make a stand.

“Not that nonsense again”  The rebuttal was swift and accompanied by the clatter of steel against crockery as the remains of the meal were abandoned.  Jeff’s anger rose swiftly at the mention of the aquanaut patrol.  “He’s too young and hardly has the right temperament to follow orders.  Even if they would accept him he would probably be court marshalled out within a month and I will not have that sort of shame brought on the family”

“He won’t be too young in February and he has exactly the right temperament to join as an officer.”

Now it was Gordon’s turn to be surprised.  He was grateful to Scott for his support in joining WASP but to hear his brother thought he should be an officer was a step further than he had ever considered.  He had been staying silent during the verbal tennis match between Scott and his father, trying his hardest not to inflame the situation.  Tensions around the table were escalating.  Scott had always deferred to their father previously but his time in the Air Force had him used to being in command and now it was like watching the alpha male and the young contender circling for dominance in the pack.  He wondered if the comment was deliberately designed to challenge their father or if Scott really meant it.

“Gordon?  An officer?  You cannot be serious about that.”  There was derision at the mere thought of Gordon taking a role of responsibility.

“I’m perfectly serious.  You never saw him at Marineville.  You never heard what his assessors said about him.  If he hadn’t had to withdraw from selection they were going to offer him a commission, they could see he was wasted in junior ranks and I have to say I agree with them.  WASP selection makes the Air Force tests look like a cake walk but Gordon was good out there.  If he wants to go into WASP then I for one will support him, it would be nice if you could support him too.”

“I think I know how best to support Gordon and that is in continuing his education, that’s if Gordon is even still eligible for college.”  Jeff reached into his jacket and drew out an envelope, it was addressed to Gordon and bore the marks of the California Department of Education.  He slid it across the table.  “This was in the mailbox downstairs.  I was hoping to talk to you about it privately, Gordon, and save you any embarrassment, but seeing as your brother is determined to play a part in your future we may as well discuss this now.  I can only assume there has been some error in the awarding of your high school diploma.” 

Scott looked at the envelope with some concern.  If Gordon really had flunked his diploma then becoming an officer was off the cards and even junior ranks looked doubtful.  WASP really could afford to take only the best and this could be a major stumbling block.  His younger sibling paused for a moment, trepidation etched across his features, before reaching out and picking up the letter. 

“Took them long enough, I’ve been waiting for this.”  There was something in his tone that Scott couldn’t quite place; more nervous anticipation than worry.

Gordon slit open the envelope slowly, as if not wanting to see what it contained despite having been expecting it.  A single sheet was carefully extracted and it only took Gordon a moment to read the short correspondence.

“Bastards.”  The exclamation was spat out as the page was thrown down in disgust.

Whatever reaction Scott and Jeff had been expecting it wasn’t this.  

“Gordon, what’s going on?” Scott butted in, cutting off their father from issuing a rebuke for foul language.

“They won’t change the topic.”

“Topic?”  Scott looked at his brother in confusion.

“Yeah” Gordon sighed heavily, too exhausted to maintain the mask he normally wore around his father. The anger in his features mixed with pain as the memories resurfaced.   “You wouldn’t have had to do this one back in Kansas but California have a unit on Modern American History and Dad here is a compulsory assignment.  I wrote and asked them to take it off the curriculum.”

“Why would you try and do that?  I know things aren’t great between you two at the moment but surely you don’t want to wipe Dad out the history books.”  He tried to place a reassuring hand on Gordon’s forearm but the limb was yanked out of his reach.

“This isn’t about Dad, it’s about ALAN!”  Gordon dropped his head into his hands, his elbows slamming painfully against the tabletop.  Grief and a sense of failure bubbled up inside him as he hid his face from twin questioning gazes.  He hated showing weakness, hated giving his father yet more ammunition to throw back against him, but the memories were too strong to repress.

“What the hell has Alan got to do with this.  Seriously Gordo, you aren’t making any sense.”  First it was about school, now it was about Alan.  Scott felt like he was trying to read a book with half the pages missing.  He was sure it made sense somehow but at the moment all he knew was that Gordon was clearly upset and hurting.

Jeff snorted, choosing to ignore the deep breathing as Gordon fought to maintain control.  “I dare say your brother will do a better job than you when the time comes.  From what I remember of that paper you barely scraped a pass grade.  It really says something about your abilities when you can screw up what should have been the easiest assignment of the lot.  It’s your own family for goodness sake.”

“Easy?”  The blonde head snapped up, locking eyes with his father and channeling the grief into anger.  “That was the hardest paper I’ve ever had to write in my life and it’s going to be ten times worse for Alan.  At least I wasn’t mentioned by name.” 

“Gordon, what’s going on?”  The rising flush of emotion to his brother’s cheeks filled Scott with concern.

“The paper, it’s not just about Dad, Mom’s in there too.  Do you have any idea how hard it is to have the worst moment of your entire life there in the set text for the whole class to see?  The avalanche, Mom dying, Alan surviving, it’s all there.  They didn’t even have the decency to put it in the main text either, it’s just a footnote like it isn’t really important.  Our Mom’s death is a fucking footnote and I didn’t want Alan to have to deal with it like I had to, it’s not like I’ll even be here to help him when the time comes.  Ever since Dad decided I was going to be packed off to college I’ve been trying to get it changed.”

“That...that sucks.”  Scott couldn’t even begin to imagine what it would be like to have to face their own personal tragedy in the classroom.  What it evidently had been like for Gordon.  “But Alan won’t be dealing with it alone, Dad will be here.”

“What, like he was here for me?  You and Virgil were better parents than Dad has ever been.  He only cares about the bottom line.  Make the grade and nothing else matters.”  The chair was shoved back angrily.

“Gordon, you should have told me.” Jeff cut in quietly, his face ashen at the sudden reminder of the tragedy that had ripped his wife away forever.  That Scott and Virgil were viewed akin to parents by the younger ones rather than just brothers was also a shock.  Had he really been so far removed from his family?  What else had he been blind to?  His eyes tracked backwards and forwards, trying to keep pace with Gordon who was now striding about erratically on the opposite side of the table in a display of energy Jeff suddenly realised had been absent for many weeks.

“I tried to but you weren’t exactly in a listening mood.  You were too busy bawling me out for getting suspended.” 

“You got suspended?”  How much had he missed out on in the last seven years?  If Gordon had ever confided this to Virgil his next younger brother had never shared the burden of knowledge.  The Gordon he had left behind may have been a bit of a pest at school with the occasional prank or missed homework but nothing that would warrant him getting suspended. 

“Guess some of my screw ups Dad didn’t even want to share with the family.  Yes Scott, I got suspended.  I...well...I got upset in class and some of the others kept going on about it and then one day I snapped.  Ended up breaking someone’s nose.  The Principal took it off my permanent record though when he found out what it was over.  I think he felt sorry for me.”

“So you tried to get the Department of Education to drop the topic.”

“Yes.” Gordon picked up the letter again, a look of disgust crossing his face.  “They won’t though.  They ‘thank me for my concerns and provide their strongest assurances of the factual accuracy of the text books’.  He’s got another year to go yet but when he gets there please look after Alan” this plea was directed straight at their father,  “cos I can’t if I’m at college and it’s going to be rough for him.”

Scott found the disgust mirrored in his own features, not just at the Education Board, but also for the actions of their father who had clearly skipped out on the emotional wellbeing side of parenting.  Gordon had faced the demons alone and was now doing his level best to protect Alan.

Any further discussions were cut short by the arrival home of that same small, blonde hurricane.

“Scott!  When did you get here?”  Alan launched himself across the room and draped himself around Scott’s neck, nearly strangling his older brother.  The new arrival seemed unperturbed by the obvious tensions around the table and Scott wondered just how normal it had become for the youngest to be surrounded by bad feelings and barely concealed arguments.   

“Hey, let a guy breathe.”  The clinging arms loosened slightly but weren’t released completely and Scott returned the hug.  “C’mon, we’ve finished here.  Do you need to eat?  Any homework due tomorrow?”  

A shake of the blonde head.  “You’re as bad as Gordon.  What is it with everyone checking up on my homework?”

As bad as Gordon, not as bad as Dad; Scott filed that away for the next time he spoke to Virgil.  He had been so happy to be free of the responsibilities of family that he had never really considered who had stepped up to take his place.   

“Well if you’re sure you’re good let’s go somewhere more comfortable, you’re pushing me off this chair.”

Jeff watched as Scott unhooked Alan’s arms and led the party through to the lounge.  Those were the questions he probably should have been asking as a father but hadn’t thought to.  Scott had stepped in first as though checking in on the youngster was the most natural thing in the world.  

All traces of the argument were put to one side for the sake of the youngest but the look Scott shot Jeff showed that the discussions were far from over.    

[wheremytwinwatches]

[Where My Twin Watches]: Full Metal Alchemist Brotherhood Episode 8

Happy birthday, Tephi! Sorry I was gone for a bit guys, work was kicking my butt for a while there. But we’re out of holiday season, and it looks like we may actually get another full-timer on my team! Anyways, where did we leave off again? Ah. Right. The whole “Stones are Soul Gems” thing. Guh. And Ed’s off exploring an “abandoned” lab, while some psycho with a knife is attacking Al.

Episode 08: “The Fifth Laboratory” Al looks up as the rooftop psycho (captioned as [66]) completely ruins the element of surprise with a battlecry. Well, given his heavy armor and the fanged skull-helmet, guessing that subtlety isn’t one of Mr. 66’s strong suits. Al jumps back and avoids the wild swings of 66’s machetes, to which the pfffahahaha ok hold up. I’m sorry, but he’s just so… pudgy! This 66 dude is a marshmallow, perfect example of acrofatic with the rooftop leap. Anyways, Pudgy compliments Al’s speed for someone of his size. Then follows the compliment by saying a lesser fighter wouldn’t be worth the effort to cut down. Right, masked psycho. Can’t let his adorable fluffiness distract me. 66 explains that he got the name from “them” when he came to work at the lab, and that he’s going to cut Al up nice and neat. So just sit back and scream, m’kay? Yeah, good luck with that, buddy. Inside Ed’s looking at a large Transmutation Circle in an open room, with a small pillar in the center. Said TC looks rather simple compared to the ones we’ve seen so far, is that really all that’s needed to make a Stone? Well, the TC and the noticeable red stains spaced around the five points. Ed makes the same assumption I did, and another voice confirms his suspicion. Said voice is a rather refined-sounding 48, another armored dude with glowing red eyes (like the Goths?) who says he’s in charge of guarding the lab from curious brats. Bit more back-and-forth between the two before Ed makes an arm blade, 48 (nickname Pompous) notes that he’s an Alchemist and WHOA he’s right in front of Ed already. Threat estimation just went way up. Yikes, and he’s already deduced that Ed has an automail arm. Pompous is proving to be pretty good. But Ed gets a stab in and- *clank*? Oh. OH. Wait a minute. He’s hollow? Like Al? But that implies… Ok, video’s paused for a moment. Getting some seriously bad implications here. We know souls can be bound to armor, our boy Al’s liv- well, existing proof of that. And if a non-certified child performing amateur Alchemy can do that, who’s to say a bunch of immoral scientists can’t? Take a lab designed to turn death into a power source, and siphon off a couple of the condemned to make immortal, nigh-impervious to harm guards for your sick manufacturing process. And why stop at just a few guards? Build up a friggin army of the things! Who’s gonna stop you? The genocidal government? You’re either working for them or you are them! Oh Leto, this is gonna end up with our boys having to face down armies of pseudo-Als, isn’t it? Cripes. Back to the fight, really really hoping that my theory is wrong. Buuuut nope, Ed confirms that’s the sound he hears when sparring with Al. Pompous reintroduces himself as the guy numbered 48 on death row, more commonly known as Slicer. Mass murderer, y’know. Pompous doesn’t confirm that the place was used to make Philosopher’s Stones, it not being “his area”, but he does reveal his Seal in his helmet, helpfully notes that if Ed destroys it, then the fight is Ed’s. Awfully considerate, although he says that he likes a challenge now and then. And he won’t just let Ed walk away, it’d totally ruin his mass-murderer rep. On to the fight! ...Hughes, you’d better have a good reason to interrupt the fight between our Protagonist and the Soul-Bound Mass Murderer. Yes, it’s adorable how happy you are that your daughter’s about to turn 3, but there are things going on! Roy agrees with me. Stop using a military line on military time to gush over your family! Hughes finally returns to more pressing matters, namely a certain scar-faced Ishvalan. They found bodies at the destroyed bridge, but they’re all so decomposed that they can’t be identified. Hold up, regardless of the fact that he’s clearly alive still, what do you mean by bodies? As in multiple? I count nine sheets there, where did they all come from? And why decomposed? The fight wasn’t that long ago. Although there’s no concrete evidence he’s dead, lack of sightings means Command thinks that he’s dead. So it should be ok to remove the Elric Brother’s guards soon. Said unfortunate guards have just found the empty room where their charges are supposed to be. [Brosh]: “Ah! Major Armstrong’s gonna take his shirt off again and yell at us some more, isn’t he?!” While Brosh sobs, Ross takes charge and orders him to follow to the only place they could have gone. To the Fifth Laboratory! Lots of yelling and grunting as Pompous and Ed swing at each other. But there’s a shift in gears? Ooooh crud. Ed’s arm is breaking, the increase in chrome and resulting weakness means it’s not holding up as well. Sure, it won’t rust as easily, but he’ll be too dead to enjoy that. Fight’s taken a shift in Pompous’ favor, where before they were equally matched now the Soul-Armor’s just standing, blocking while barely moving and then kicking Ed away. Pompous is all sad that Ed won’t last much longer, tired and wounded as he is. Not to mention that his partner’s likely finished with Ed’s companion outside. After all, 66 is quite strong. But not as strong as Pompous, of course. Ed finds this quite funny. See, he and Al have been sparring partners for quite some time. And to this day, he’s never beaten his little brother. Cut to outside, where Pudgy is getting his skullface handed to him. Or rather, knocked clean off. No sign of his Seal, though. Pudgy offers to share his story with Al, all starting with a man named Barry. Barry appears to be a butcher, given the artwork of a guy with a cleaver surrounded by meat. Barry the Butcher did so love cutting up meat into tiny little pieces. Until one day that wasn’t enough anymore, and he took his cleaver to the streets. 23 victims later, Barry was sent to the gallows. But then some dumbass decided that such a man would do just fine as an unpaid nightguard. Anyways, that was the story of the infamous serial killer Barry the Chopper! [Al]: “Sorry, I’ve never heard of you.” Barry/Pudgy does not take Al’s lack of local history well. Nor his lack of surprise to the whole “bodiless armor” thing. And then he’s surprised when Al calmly pops his own helmet off. Really, dude? The glowing red eyes didn’t clue you in? Heh. Oh man, poor Pudgy. You have no idea who you’re messing with. Wait. Why are you laughing? Oh. You DICK. [66]: “Are you sure that you’re not a puppet created and controlled by your so-called brother? Were you ever a real person to begin with?” Nope. Nope nope nope. Shut up. You do not get to ask those questions. You do not get to imply that Al wasn’t a real boy. That his memories were created to make him easier to control. That dear sweet Granny and Winry are just playing along to manipulate a “living” weapon. I was looking forward to seeing our boys take you down, murderer. Now I’m looking forward to them doing it slowly. Leto. First Soul Gems, now the whole issue of sapience and continuation of consciousness? This show’s not pulling any punches, is it? Um, cop? You may wanna well ok he’s dead. “I kill, therefore I am. As long as I know that, it’s all I need to prove to myself that I’ve always been me.” Back inside, Pompous is saying that he’ll finish off Ed quickly to go and fight the better fighter. Alright Ed, what’s your plan? Good plan! And shame on you, Pompous. You talked a big talk, but you really fell for the old “look behind you” trick. [48]: “That was dirty!” [Ed]: “There’s no such thing as ‘dirty’ in a fight. Before he destroys the seal, Ed stops to pick up Pompous’ helmet and demands what he knows about the Philosopher’s Stone. And just leaves the main body of Pompous behind him. Really, Ed? You’ve lived with Al for how many years? Seen his head get knocked off yet he still moves just fine how many times? Shame on you. Wait, what? “Impossible?” Why? You clearly saw the seal on the neck, right? Ooooh. “Slicer” was a pair of brothers? Independent head and body? So Ed was shown a seal inside the helmet, not the one lower down on the armor proper. And now he’s really injured, Armor-Slicer’s not giving him time to transmute (point for having the seal already on some gear, rather than using your hands each time). Ouch, jab to the cut and Ed’s down. Memory of Scar? OOOOOOOHHHHHH! Ed figured out Scar’s Hand o’ Doom! Armor-Slicer done got blown in half! And then freaks Ed out by wriggling. Ha! Pompous takes the defeat in fairly-good grace, calls for Ed to deal the finishing blow. But Ed’s not going to commit murder. [48]: “With bodies like these are we really even people?” [Ed]: “I consider you people whether you have physical bodies or not… If I didn’t, that would mean I didn’t believe my own brother is a person either.” Outside Pudgy continues to prey on Al’s doubts, goes so far as to dare him to break his own Blood Seal. Obviously Al won’t do such a stupid thing, but it’s because we know that he’s alive, not because he’s “programmed” to protect it. Guh, the sooner Pudgy bites it the better. Ed continues to insist that he won’t kill another person. Which amuses Pompous? Wow. Pompous remarks that it’s ironic, saying it wasn’t until they were Soul Bound that he and his brother were treated like humans. For that kindness, he’ll tell Ed everything. Awesome, we’re getting- aw crap. I know that dress. Ladies and gentlemen. Lust is on the scene. And she does not like helmets with loose lids. And Envy, as well. This is bad, isn’t it? Al, you may wanna get in and rescue your brother sooner rather than later. Jeez, hope Soul-Bound Armors don’t feel pain. Or at least it was quick for Pompous, getting split in two like that. WELL OK THEN. Guess that answers the question “Do Soul Armors feel pain?”. Envy’s taken up the sword and is repeatedly stabbing the Armor-Slicer’s seal, ranting about how their attacking the important sacrifice could have messed up the entire plan. Finally, the armor stops moving. Ed slowly slides up the wall to get to his feet, facing down Lust and Envy and demanding to know who they are. Uh, Ed? I know that you don’t know these people, that you aren’t aware that they seem to have hurt Scar enough - you know, that guy who utterly wrecked you and Al? - to send him into hiding. And that you’re pissed off enough to ignore your own physical state. But maybe you think you could tone it down a notch? Not try to kick Envy and prepare to fight? Whelp. Ed’s arm just went kaput. Winry, as much as I respect you as a mechanic, gonna have to question the choice to go so heavy with chrome. Rust isn’t as bad as these “technical difficutlies.” And yup Envy-knee to the stomach, Ed’s down for the count. [Lust]: “Listen to me well, boy. Don’t ever forget this. Always remember that we allowed you to live.” And of course, since Ed was poking around the place, it’ll have to go. Lust orders Envy to blow it up. Hey, uh, Al? How you holding up? Aw, no. Al, please. Please don’t let Pudgy’s mindgames get to you. Don’t start thinking that what Ed was going to tell you last episode was that... Hooray, Ross and Brosh are here! Woefully ignorant of how useless bullets are against Pudgy, but still. Uh oh, building’s cracking. And Pudgy recognizes what that means, makes a speedy exit. Al cries out that Ed’s still inside. Well, it’s not like the Goths are going to let their “important sacrifice” die as they dispose of the evidence, right? Called it! Envy walks out of the dust with Ed slung over his shoulder, drops him off with Al and Ross while cheerfully saying they should take him to a hospital and keep a better eye on him. “He’s a precious resource.” And like that, he’s gone. As the lab crumbles, the prison next door is home to a bunch of yelling prisoners. And further inside, someone named Kimblee remarks that it’s lovely to hear a building exploding. Hey, it’s Smiley, from the flashback to the Ishvalan War. You know, the guy who was grinning during the genocide? Seems he’s in prison now. This is the guy that Mr. Freeze was trying to recruit in the first episode too, wasn’t it? And even as the lab crumbles, even as our characters rush to get Ed to a hospital… Al thinks about what Pudgy said. ...wait, that’s it? That’s the episode? Come on! How rude is it to leave poor Al doubting his own personhood?! Post-credits: Hughes is talking on a phone, remarking that things at Central are pretty hectic. All the senior Alchemists killed by Scar? Rumor is a certain Roy Mustang may get promoted to fill in the spaces. But getting advanced so young Roy’s bound to make enemies. He needs as many people on his side as possible. Like a wife! ...yeah, I’m with you, [Receptionist]. Hughes, please stop with the personal phone calls. [Narrator]: “Edward Elric cannot find the right words to say what he must. Meanwhile, young Alphonse is frightened by his brother’s continued silence. Where does the truth lie? This truth is waiting, hidden in the memories of a young girl. Next time, on Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood-” Episode 09 - “Created Feelings” “The heart begins to waver because if fears what the truth may bring.” Hey, looks like we get to see Winry again! Almost makes up for Alphonse having to doubt his very existence! Man, I can’t wait to see Pudgy bite it!

[seattlegrace-rpg]

Name: Thomas “Tas” Evan Oneeri Jr. Age: 19 Occupation: Longterm patient FC: Leebo Freeman

BIOGRAPHY:

Thomas Jr. was born the youngest of three children, half brother to the other two. His mother died giving birth to him. She hadn’t been seeing a doctor regularly during her pregnancy and her eclampsia wasn’t caught nor was he ever seen in ultrasounds before his birth. Right away it was obvious there was something wrong, his spine was badly deformed, his legs were bowed in, he’d suffered multiple fractures in the hard birth, the whites of his eyes were tinged blue. Tas was diagnosed with Type IV Osteogenesis Imperfecta at one week old. However that was only the beginning of his problems. Tas’ father, Thomas Sr., in his grief of losing the love of his life and unable to control his anger turned heavily to alcohol and began to verbally abuse then physically abused his two older sons. Isaac, the oldest, kept his mouth shut and his head down to avoid attention. Marcus, the second oldest, worked up the courage to tell one of the doctors while at an appointment for the then two year old Thomas, who had gotten his nickname of Tas because of his difficulty pronouncing his own name. By two Tas’d had surgery to try and correct the bowing in his legs and was recovering from that when the social workers came. His father was arrested and the three were placed in foster care as their only known living relative their uncle, Jonathan, was currently in jail for taking the fall for a murder his twin brother Thomas Sr. had committed when they were seventeen. Isaac and Marcus were adopted within three years being as young as they were as well as healthy, unfortunately to different homes despite trying to keep them together. Tas wasn’t adopted and remained in foster care bouncing around from home to home until he was around fourteen when an older couple adopted him, Elizabeth and Wendy Nelson. Tas doesn’t remember much about his brothers and the foster homes he had stayed in stopped giving him their letters or the letters were sent to the wrong address and were never forwarded, they stopped being sent when they weren’t returned even in the scrawling of a five year old. The foster homes he was in and out of were neglectful and often times just abusive and because of his disease he was often labeled too much to handle and was passed on to someone else quickly. He was told why he was put into foster care by his parents when he turned sixteen. Because of his condition and childhood he became severely depressed and has issues with attachment and abandonment but hides it best he can with jokes and pranks. When he turned nineteen he was told about a program to study his disorder at Seattle Mercy Grace and moved away from his adopted parents in Cleveland, Ohio, all the way to Seattle. He has a small studio apartment paid for by his parents that’s very close to the hospital so he often walks to it when he can. Now that he’s on his own he decided this fresh start was a good time to figure out exactly what he wanted to do with his life. With his limitations it was difficult, but he settled on what he knew best. Hospital life. He enrolled in an almost completely online eighteen month program to become a medical administrative assistant and wants to work for the new hospital he’s been sent to. Personality wise, Tas is a huge flirt and a troublemaker. Since he can’t get his energy out playing sports he gets his kicks by pulling pranks and telling jokes and teasing as many people as he can. He’s smart, funny, mischievous and very charismatic. He became fluent in Spanish just to trip people up. Despite that he’s easy going, doesn’t like causing actual trouble and prefers to keep his antics at a fun, if not slightly annoying, level for everyone. When he’s alone is pretty much the only time he drops that fun easy going attitude, showing the sadness in him. He has not made any attempts to contact his half-siblings, father, or uncle despite knowing they are out there. He likes to bird watch and sketch and play video games. Physically Tas is both blessed and cursed. He has short curly blonde hair he often keeps gelled back, sky blue eyes with the whites tinged a light grayish-blue, and very pale fragile usually bruised up skin. He’s handsome despite his illness, his face is shockingly angular, with a hooked nose, high cheekbones. And he’s tall, one thing that makes him stand out from the others with his condition, standing at 6’1”. However he’s really thin weighing 140lbs with not so much muscle, can’t get too much exercise in. With his spine being curved the way it is he is cocked to the left slightly but the surgeries he had to fix it made that much less obvious. The same goes for his legs, which still bow but it can only be noticed if you’re looking for it. He’s got multiple scars from surgeries to fix fractures and breaks as well as his legs and spine. He wears mostly tank tops and t-shirts in all colors often with inappropriate sayings or images, a dark purple button up denim jacket, usually blue jeans that aren’t too tight fitting on the legs, and purple converse that match his jacket. He has a necklace that is a choker with two black leather bands and a silver feather hanging from it. He has a personalized cane that can fold up that he uses and is almost never seen without, with a silver raven’s skull as the handle and the shaft black with plumes of purple smoke painted along it. The jacket, shoes, and cane were gifts given to him by his adoptive parents when they told him he was going to be adopted by them, the necklace a gift from the staff of the hospital he’d been going to for years. Medically, he has a slightly S shaped curved spine. He does have asthma because of his chest wall being mildly deformed. Has had surgery for Basilar Invagination at around 1 year old and that is still monitored as they weren’t entirely sure it was successful. Has had full dentures since he was 4 years old. He has fractured most of the bones in his arms and legs countless times as well as his right hip and right collar bone at least once and severely broke his left leg and right arm resulting in surgeries, as well as breaking his other limbs a few times less severely and only resulting in casts, all due to being more adventurous and less careful than he should be. When he does get bigger fractures they often get infected resulting in long hospital stays while they work on getting the infection under control. He has had multiple surgeries that have gotten his spine to the okay point it’s at now and to fix his bowing legs which are barely able to be seen unless you’re looking for it. He has valvular heart disease, two of the valves are smaller than they should be, but he hasn’t had any major issues with it yet previous doctors said his case is a watch and wait. He will occasionally have seizures, one of them is what resulted in his broken arm and a small skull fracture but he hasn’t had one in about two years, his speech is slower because of a big one he had when he was 6 years old. He also has not so great hearing. It’s not so bad to the point he needs hearing aids but if you don’t get his attention first or speak loud enough when he’s not looking he won’t notice you’re talking. He is given Pamidronate every month or so, regularly takes anti-inflammatories and pain relievers, as well as smoking weed despite being told constantly not to for many reasons and does his best to hide that habit. He nearly constantly gets all manners of tests done on him so he’s got a very busy schedule.

STATUS: THIS CHARACTER IS

OPEN/TAKEN/RESERVE

[dontiellatme-blog]

 The Gemini

                                       Cast of Characters

Azzz:She is Arc’s twin sister, she grew up with an abusive father and a helpless mother, who trained them to become professional criminals. The Gemini twins possess extraordinary abilities, Azzy possess manipulative and transportation abilities. She is possessive and stubborn towards her twin brother, and tends to become selfish at times. She grew to become fearless and can sometimes be cruel and hateful but at other times she can help others and be kind. She knows her worth and exercises her ability to use her voice to make a change. She tends to not care about what other’s would feel or think and she makes actions based on her own decisions.

Arc: He is Azzy’s twin brother, he grew up with an abusive father and a helpless mother, who trained them to become professional criminals. The Gemini twins possess extraordinary abilities, Arc possess telekinesis/telekinetic abilities. He has the duty to protect and defend Azzy at all cost, and this was a promise to his father. However, he fell in love and everything changes. Although, he has a love-hate relationship with Azzy, he always considers Azzy’s safety first in every decision. He is adorable, charming, easygoing, respectful, and trustworthy. At times, he tends to trust too easily, and this leads to terrible consequences.

Eliza:She is an intelligent, brilliant and kind person. As a young girl she wanted to prove to her father that she is better than him and that she’d make a difference in the world and now she has stumbled into the opportunity of a lifetime. She is also undercover to catch the Gemini twins. She is one who studies or is highly interested or proficient in a technical field, especially hacking systems. She is one who specializes in technology or computers.

Father:An abusive father, who has anger temper issues. He often comes back home drunk and will initiate in an argument with his family.

Mother:A helpless mother, who is submissive towards her husband. She fears her husband’s capabilities. She deeply loves and cares for the twins that she would sacrifice herself in order for the kids to be unharmed.

                                                      Setting

Icarunia City

                                                        Time: 

20th Century

                                                  Act 1/Scene 1

                   [At Lauvre Museum in Icarunia City. In 1982, Arc and Azzy are about to commit the biggest and most important project. They have been planning to steal the most expensive and famous painting in the City for many years. Azzy uses her manipulation abilities to instantly alter reality by telling a lie to the guards. Arc uses his telekinesis abilities allowing him to influence a physical system without physical interaction.]

Arc: Remember, execute the plan. Get what we need and leave. Okay?

Azzy: Yes brother, I was listening.

[They walk towards the entrance in their matching black suits.]

[Azzy uses her abilities to make the guards do whatever she desires.]

Arc: Good job sissy. Hurry before anyone sees us.

Azzy: Hmm… I have to admit. That guy was really cute.

Arc: Stop fooling around Azzy, focus.

Azzy: Right-right, so where do we begin?

Arc: The painting is upstairs.

[They placed every dazzling jewelry they could find in the bag.]

Azzy: Hey, did you hear that?

Arc: Hear what?

Azzy: Nothing… I-I must be hearing things.

Arc: Hurry! Place the painting in the bag.

Azzy: Hey! Look! We should get that too. It’s really pretty.

Arc: No, we’re only here for the painting.

Azzy: B-but brother. Please!

Arc: Fine, but get it quick.

[Azzy uses her teleportation abilities to go beyond the line.]

Azzy: Got it! Let’s go.

[but before they could teleport out of the museum, there was a loud voice.]

[loud voice.]

Eliza: Stop!!!

Azzy: uh-oh…guess someone saw us already. [she whispers.]

[Arc stares at Azzy with annoyance.]

Eliza: Take another step and I’ll make sure the alarms comes on. Believe me, that would be a big problem for you two.

Arc: What do you want?

Eliza: Oh, that was quick. You’re not even going to ask my name? How rude, Arc.

Arc: How do you know my name?

Eliza: My name is Eliza Smoak, daughter of Noah Smoak. The famous supervillain of Icarunia City, the calculator, known for his cyberpath abilities.

Azzy: And… you’re telling us this because?

Eliza: I want to join your team. You see, I hate my father for abandoning my mother and I to pursue his crimes. I want to prove him that I am better than him.

Azzy: Oh, well you see, we are not recruiting so… bye.

Eliza: Wait! I have footages and other evidences to prove that your both guilty of multiple crimes. I could get you arrested, anytime. It’s your choice.

Azzy: We really don’t believe you. Right brother?

[Arc looks at Azzy.]

Azzy: Right???

Arc: We could really use her help Azzy. She might be useful. Can you hack the dark web?

Eliza: I most certainly can. I’m an expert in many areas.

Arc: Let’s go. Your coming with us.

Azzy: B-but why?!

Arc: Let’s go Azzy!

[Azzy groans and teleports out of the museum to their hidden lair.]

Azzy: Why did you bring her here!? You’re exposing us! You’re making a terrible mistake Arc!

Arc: Calm down Azzy.

Azzy: For the record Eliza, I don’t like you and I never will.

Eliza: I’m not forcing any of you to like me or to accept me into this team. But believe me, you will need my help.

Azzy: Are you crazy?! You’re blackmailing us?! I can’t believe this. This is ridiculous.

Arc: Why do we need your help?

Eliza: My father is planning something against the city. He wants to rule the city, to take over everything.

Azzy: Again, and this is our concern because?!

Arc: For the record... We are just thieves; we don’t save the world.

Eliza: I know, but I need your help too. I can’t let my father rule this hell hole. With your abilities combined with my capabilities, we would be unstoppable. I could help you steal whatever you desire, and you could help me stop my father. Either way, it’s a win-win situation.

Azzy: Oh please, we?!

Eliza: Yes. Will you please help me stop him? Arc?

Arc: Fine, but you have to follow our rules.

Azzy: W-what?! Are you forgetting?! We are the bad guys. We don’t do “good”!

Arc: Trust me.

Azzy: Whatever brother.

[Eliza smiles at Arc.]

                                               Act 2/Scene 2

                  [A couple of months after, Eliza and Arc were getting really close. Azzy was extremely jealous because she was used to having her brother’s attention all to herself. Eliza was getting ready for the next team project.]

Arc: Do you need help with that?

Eliza: oh, um… I’m fine. Thank you. [She smiles.]

Arc: No, I insist. Let me carry that for you.

Eliza: oh, um… Thank you.

[pause.]

[awkward silence.]

Eliza: So, Azzy still doesn’t like me huh?

Arc: Apparently, yea… she thinks you’re a threat. She’s just not used to having other people around.

Eliza: I can see that.

Arc: You mentioned your mother when we first met. Where is she?

Eliza: Well, she died. Years after my father left us. She got really sick. Unfortunately, I was the only child and… I didn’t have anyone else.

Arc: I’m sorry.

Eliza: Oh-no, it’s fine. I got over it.

Arc: I’m really glad I met you… umm I mean… what I meant was I’m glad you joined the team. [He stutters.]

Eliza: oh ha-ha, you’re really funny… and cute. [she chuckles.]

Arc: What?

Eliza: Huh? Oh nothing.

[she looks at him, and smiles.]

Arc: Eliza, you have beautiful eyes.

Eliza: Thank you.

[He firmly pulled her body against his and he brushed her lips with his. Staring into her eyes, he lightly slid his tongue across her bottom lip, she drew deep, staggered breath in response to the wave of heat she felt flushing through her. Arc smiled at her. Then, he softly kissed her, he lightly swept his tongue between her lips, pressing his warm, soft lips to hers.]

[Azzy walks in.]

Azzy: W-what is going on here?!

[Azzy dashes out, tears began to fall.]

Arc: Wait! Azzy!

Eliza: I’m sorry…

Arc: Wait here.

[Arc goes after Azzy.]

Arc: I’m sorry.

[Arc hugs Azzy.]

[Azzy pushes him away.]

Azzy: How could do this brother? You and I were meant to die together.

Arc: I don’t know what to say.

Azzy: Do you love her?!

Arc: W-what?

Azzy: I said, do you love her?!

Arc: I do…

Azzy: Do you want to be with her?!

Arc: What do you mean?

Azzy: Now I know.

[Azzy teleports out of the room.]

[Arc sighs.]

                                              Act 3/Scene 3

Arc: Are you ready Eliza?

Eliza: Yes honey, this is probably… um…. [counts with her finger.]our 5th mission? I know the drill.

Arc: Right. You look beautiful. [kisses Eliza on the forehead.]

Azzy: There goes the love birds. Disgusting.[she whispers.]

Arc: What the hell is wrong with you Azzy?! You’ve been acting like spoiled brat ever since…

Azzy: Ever since what? Huh? What’s wrong with me? Really? Have you forgotten?! We were supposed to be duos, Arc. Not a triad. We’ve been through hell together, and just like that. [snaps fingers.] Eliza comes and everything changes. She won’t do good to us! [Azzy turns to Eliza.] You! You did this to us! [back to Arc.] And you were stupid enough to believe this demon. You both are selfish! Selfish! [cries furiously.]

Arc: I can’t believe you; this issue was a year ago! You still can’t accept her. Haven’t you gotten over it yet? I love Eliza, Azzy. Why can’t you just accept reality?

Azzy: Easy for you to say. You were supposed to be my twin. You were supposed to have my back no matter what, Arc. You were supposed to protect me. You made that promise when we were younger. Remember?[wipes tears and looks fiercely at Arc.]  

Arc: Until now, this is still about you? What about my happiness? Why can’t you just be happy for me?

Azzy: When the times comes and everything doesn’t go according plan, and I turn out to be right about her. Don’t come begging for forgiveness. Because I can’t give you one.

[Azzy walks away and slams the door.]

Arc: Right, go ahead and walk away again. That’s what your good at!

Eliza: C’mon let’s go.

Arc: Don’t let her bother you okay? What matters is that I love you.

Eliza: I know… I love you too. I’m sorry… for everything.

Arc: You have nothing to be sorry about.

Eliza: Yea… I hope so…[shows a worried face.]

                                            Act 4/Scene 4 

                       [Arc and Azzy were caught by A.R.G.U.S also known as Advanced Research Group Uniting Super-Humans. Turns out Eliza was working for them; she was undercover on a mission to catch Azzy and Arc. Apparently, everything was planned out.]

[A man placespower-dampening cuffs refraining them from using their abilities.]

Arc: W-what is the meaning of this Eliza?!

Eliza: I’m sorry, Arc. I-I’m sorry.

Azzy: Sorry your face.

[gives Arc a disappointed look.]

Arc: I’m sorry… this is my fault. [he whispers.]

[Arc looks down.]

Azzy: Yea… it actually is. This is all your fault. Everything was perfect before Eliza came and you let her manipulate you. Before you welcomed her into our team. This is on you and I can never forgive you for this. You’re a fool… brother.

Azzy: and you! [she shouts.] When I get out, I’ll come for you. I swear, I will kill you.

[Arc displays deep regret.]

Man: C’mon let’s go big guy.

                                               Act 5/Scene 5

                [On June 8, 1952, two twins were born. Azzy was born with beautiful hazel eyes, just like her mother. Arc had beautiful ocean eyes, just like his father. As they grew older, they were trained to become strong. To become brave and fearless. Every day, they would train and train with their father. While, their mother would watch over them. Little do they know; they were being trained to become professional criminals. ]

Father:  Is that all you’ve got boy? C’MON SHOW ME WHAT YOU’VE GOT!

Arc: I can’t dad.

[His father pushes him against the ground.]

Father: What did you say?! No one, in this family is allowed to give up. No one.

[Arc groans in pain. ]

[He slowly gets back up.]

Father: Now fight me boy, fight me.

[Arc hits his dad with his bamboo stick.]

Father: Nice one! I’m proud of you boy. Remember, you are the man. You must protect your sister at all cost. No matter what. If something bad happens to us, do whatever it takes to keep her safe. You must strive for the best. Go beyond your limits. Do not let anyone stop you from reaching your goal. No one.

Father: Now from the top!

[Trains.]

                                          Act 6/Scene 6

[Father comes home drunk.]

Father: Azzy!!! GET ME A GLASS OF WATER!

Azzy: Coming father.

Father: What is this?! This isn’t cold water. How dare you?!

[He slaps Azzy.]

Mother: Luther! What is going on here?! Why did you slap our daughter?!

Father: What did you say?! Did you just raise your tone on me?! How dare you?!

[Strangles his wife.]

[Azzy cries out loud.]

Arc: Dad! What are you doing?! Y-you are hurting mom! Please stop!

[Pushes Arc.]

Arc: Dad, please, she can’t breathe. Pleaseshow her sympathy. I beg you.

[His father let’s go.]

Arc: Mom! Are you okay?!

Mother: Yes honey. Mother’s okay. Go to your room okay. I’ll take care of this.

Arc: B-but mom…

Mother: Go! Take your sister with you. Everything’s going to be okay.

[Arc takes Azzy to their room.]

                                             Act 7/Scene 7

                [Every day for 10 years it happened again and again. Their father would constantly get drunk and would beat his wife up. She suffered the same violence over and over again. Until one day, Arc found his mother hanging from a rope. She couldn’t take the violence anymore. She had lost hope. One day, Arc decided that It wasn’t safe for him and Azzy. So, they decided to run away. Far away from their father. With the advantage of having extraordinary abilities, they used thisopportunity to steal from people. At first, it was just food. Then, money. Then, jewelries and this happened every day for 10 years.]

[In a high-tech prison cell.]

Arc: I wonder what dad would say if he was here. He would probably tell me how weak and stupid I am.

[Azzy doesn’t response.]

Arc: Are you awake?... I’m really sorry…

Arc: I know you can hear me Azzy…

Arc: I know I wasn’t the best brother to you. I know I was selfish for choosing my happiness without considering yours…

[Azzy opens her eyes.]

Arc: I know that I hurt you very badly. But believe me, I don’t want to do so. It was my greatest fault. I want to protect you from all bad things. But Instead I led us to this…

[sighs.]

Arc: You are my one and only lovely sister. I love you more than anything. I wish you understand. I am not a perfect brother; I too make mistakes.

Azzy: You’re so dramatic.

Arc: Do you forgive me?

Azzy: hmm… I’ll think about it, you fool.

Arc: I’ll give you all the time you need.

                                           Act 8/Scene 8

[Eliza visits Arc in his cell.]

Arc: What are you doing here?

Eliza: Arc, I’m sorry. I had to do it.

Arc: You fooled me, you made me believe that you loved me. You made me turn against my sister. You expect to forgive you?

Eliza: I know an-and I’m sorry. Arc, I really did love you. I didn’t expect myself to. But everything was real, I promise.

Arc: Stop lying to me.

Eliza: I’m telling the truth. I will be waiting for you. I will be with you throughout the process. I will never leave your side. Please, help me prove how sincere I am.

Arc: What process?!

Eliza: A.R.G.U.S is creating a cure for all extraordinary humans. This cure will help you turn into a normal person Arc. I hope you will take it. Please.

Arc: What?! Now, I’m a lab rat. Amazing. What else do I not know?!

Eliza: That’s all Arc. Please think about it. This place will help you to become a better person. One’s everything is over; we can be together again. Please Arc, think about it.

[Eliza kisses his forehead and walks away.]

                                           Act 9/Scene 9

           [On December 15, 2002, the twins were released from prison. Apparently within those 20 years of imprisonment. A.R.G.U.S succeeded in experimentingthe cure that would remove abilities from a being by making them normal human beings. For 20 years, Eliza constantly visits Arc. Apparently, they still love each other. Arc took the cure, however, Azzy decided not to.]

Azzy: So… [pause.] I guess this is the end for us.

Arc: Where will you be going?

Azzy: I will go as far away as possible. Far away from you.

Arc: I’m really sorry sis. I really am.

Azzy: [nod.] I know you are.

Arc: So, um… I’ll be moving in with Eliza…

Azzy: Guess love always wins. Does it?

Arc: I guess so…[pause.] I hope you’re going to be fine Azzy.

Azzy: I hope so too. I will start over again. It’s never too late to become happy, right?

Arc: I hope you find that happiness. I know I have.

Azzy: I’m glad you have.

[Eliza walks towards Azzy.]

Eliza: Hey…[soft smile.]

Azzy: Hi…

Eliza: Um… I never got the chance to apologize… and I’m sorry…

Azzy: [sighs.] Forget about it. Don’t worry. We’re good. I wish you both a happy life. It’s never too late to forgive, to grow and to heal.

Eliza: Thank you.

Azzy: So… [pause.] I guess this is it… goodbye, brother.[soft smile.]

Arc: goodbye.

[the twins hug.]

[Arc kisses Azzy on the forehead.]

Arc: [sighs.] I will miss you sis. [whispers.]

Azzy: I know you will, brother. [soft smile.]

[tenpmtalks-blog]

The Gemini

Cast of Characters

Azzy: She is Arc’s twin sister, she grew up with an abusive father and a helpless mother, who trained them to become professional criminals. The Gemini twins possess extraordinary abilities, Azzy possess manipulative and transportation abilities. She is possessive and stubborn towards her twin brother, and tends to become selfish at times. She grew to become fearless and can sometimes be cruel and hateful but at other times she can help others and be kind. She knows her worth and exercises her ability to use her voice to make a change. She tends to not care about what others would feel or think and she makes actions based on her own decisions.

Arc: He is Azzy’s twin brother, he grew up with an abusive father and a helpless mother, who trained them to become professional criminals. The Gemini twins possess extraordinary abilities, Arc possess telekinesis/telekinetic abilities. He has the duty to protect and defend Azzy at all cost, and this was a promise to his father. However, he fell in love and everything changes. Although, he has a love-hate relationship with Azzy, he always considers Azzy’s safety first in every decision. He is adorable, charming, easygoing, respectful, and trustworthy. At times, he tends to trust too easily, and this leads to terrible consequences.

Eliza: She is an intelligent, brilliant and kind person. As a young girl she wanted to prove to her father that she is better than him and that she’d make a difference in the world and now she has stumbled into the opportunity of a lifetime. She is also undercover to catch the Gemini twins. She is one who studies or is highly interested or proficient in a technical field, especially hacking systems. She is one who specializes in technology or computers.

Father: An abusive father, who has anger temper issues. He often comes back home drunk and will initiate in an argument with his family.

Mother: A helpless mother, who is submissive towards her husband. She fears her husband’s capabilities. She deeply loves and cares for the twins that she would sacrifice herself in order for the kids to be unharmed.

Setting

Icarunia City

Time

20th Century

Act 1/Scene 1

[At Lauvre Museum in Icarunia City. In 1982, Arc and Azzy are about to commit the biggest and most important project. They have been planning to steal the most expensive and famous painting in the City for many years. Azzy uses her manipulation abilities to instantly alter reality by telling a lie to the guards. Arc uses his telekinesis abilities allowing him to influence a physical system without physical interaction.]

Arc

Remember, execute the plan. Get what we need and leave. Okay?

Azzy

Yes brother, I was listening.

[They walk towards the entrance in their matching black suits.]

[Azzy uses her abilities to make the guards do whatever she desires.]

Arc

Good job sissy. Hurry before anyone sees us.

Azzy

Hmm… I have to admit. That guy was really cute.

Arc

Stop fooling around Azzy, focus.

Azzy

Right-right, so where do we begin?

Arc

The painting is upstairs.

[They placed every dazzling jewelry they could find in the bag.]

Azzy

Hey, did you hear that?

Arc

Hear what?

Azzy

Nothing… I-I must be hearing things.

Arc

Hurry! Place the painting in the bag.

Azzy

Hey! Look! We should get that too. It’s really pretty.

Arc

No, we’re only here for the painting.

Azzy

B-but brother. Please!

Arc

Fine, but get it quick.

[Azzy uses her teleportation abilities to go beyond the line.]

Azzy

Got it! Let’s go.

[but before they could teleport out of the museum, there was a loud voice.]

[loud voice.]

Eliza

Stop!!!

Azzy

uh-oh…guess someone saw us already. [she whispers.]

[Arc stares at Azzy with annoyance.]

Eliza

Take another step and I’ll make sure the alarms comes on. Believe me, that would be a big problem for you two.

Arc

What do you want?

Eliza

Oh, that was quick. You’re not even going to ask my name? How rude, Arc.

Arc

How do you know my name?

Eliza

My name is Eliza Smoak, daughter of Noah Smoak. The famous supervillain of Icarunia City, the calculator, known for his cyberpath abilities.

Azzy

And… you’re telling us this because?

Eliza

I want to join your team. You see, I hate my father for abandoning my mother and I to pursue his crimes. I want to prove him that I am better than him.

Azzy

Oh, well you see, we are not recruiting so… bye.

Eliza

Wait! I have footages and other evidences to prove that your both guilty of multiple crimes. I could get you arrested, anytime. It’s your choice.

Azzy

We really don’t believe you. Right brother?

[Arc looks at Azzy.]

Azzy

Right???

Arc

We could really use her help Azzy. She might be useful. Can you hack the dark web?

Eliza

I most certainly can. I’m an expert in many areas.

Arc

Let’s go. Your coming with us.

Azzy

B-but why?!

Arc

Let’s go Azzy!

[Azzy groans and teleports out of the museum to their hidden lair.]

Azzy

Why did you bring her here!? You’re exposing us! You’re making a terrible mistake Arc!

Arc

Calm down Azzy.

Azzy

For the record Eliza, I don’t like you and I never will.

Eliza

I’m not forcing any of you to like me or to accept me into this team. But believe me, you will need my help.

Azzy

Are you crazy?! You’re blackmailing us?!  I can’t believe this. This is ridiculous.

Arc

Why do we need your help?

Eliza

My father is planning something against the city. He wants to rule the city, to take over everything.

Azzy

Again, and this is our concern because?!

Arc

For the record... We are just thieves; we don’t save the world.

Eliza

I know, but I need your help too. I can’t let my father rule this hell hole. With your abilities combined with my capabilities, we would be unstoppable. I could help you steal whatever you desire, and you could help me stop my father. Either way, it’s a win-win situation.

Azzy

Oh please, we?!

Eliza

Yes. Will you please help me stop him? Arc?

Arc

Fine, but you have to follow our rules.

Azzy

W-what?! Are you forgetting?! We are the bad guys. We don’t do “good”!

Arc

Trust me.

Azzy

Whatever brother.

[Eliza smiles at Arc.]

 Act 2/Scene 2

[A couple of months after, Eliza and Arc were getting really close. Azzy was extremely jealous because she was used to having her brother’s attention all to herself. Eliza was getting ready for the next team project.]

Arc

Do you need help with that?

Eliza

oh, um… I’m fine. Thank you. [She smiles.]

Arc

No, I insist. Let me carry that for you.

Eliza

oh, um… Thank you.

[pause.]

[awkward silence.]

Eliza

So, Azzy still doesn’t like me huh?

Arc

Apparently, yea… she thinks you’re a threat. She’s just not used to having other people around.

Eliza

I can see that.

Arc

You mentioned your mother when we first met. Where is she?

Eliza

Well, she died. Years after my father left us. She got really sick. Unfortunately, I was the only child and… I didn’t have anyone else.

Arc

I’m sorry.

Eliza

Oh-no, it’s fine. I got over it.

Arc

I’m really glad I met you… umm I mean… what I meant was I’m glad you joined the team. [He stutters.]

Eliza

oh ha-ha, you’re really funny… and cute. [she chuckles.]

Arc

What?

Eliza

Huh? Oh nothing.

[she looks at him, and smiles.]

Arc Eliza, you have beautiful eyes.

Eliza

Thank you.

[He firmly pulled her body against his and he brushed her lips with his. Staring into her eyes, he lightly slid his tongue across her bottom lip, she drew deep, staggered breath in response to the wave of heat she felt flushing through her. Arc smiled at her. Then, he softly kissed her, he lightly swept his tongue between her lips, pressing his warm, soft lips to hers.]

[Azzy walks in.]

Azzy: W-what is going on here?!

[Azzy dashes out, tears began to fall.]

Arc

Wait! Azzy!

Eliza

I’m sorry…

Arc

Wait here.

[Arc goes after Azzy.]

Arc

I’m sorry.

[Arc hugs Azzy.]

[Azzy pushes him away.]

Azzy

How could do this brother? You and I were meant to die together.

Arc

I don’t know what to say.

Azzy

Do you love her?!

Arc

W-what?

Azzy

I said, do you love her?!

Arc

I do…

Azzy

Do you want to be with her?!

Arc

What do you mean?

Azzy

Now I know.

[Azzy teleports out of the room.]

[Arc sighs.]

 Act 3/Scene 3

[Before going to their next mission, Arc and Azzy gets into a heated argument because Azzy couldn’t get over the fact that she is no longer the only women in his life. She begins to show attitude towards Arc, and Arc begins to get annoyed with her attitude. Eliza and Arc are still deeply in love and not even Azzy could change that.]

Arc

Are you ready Eliza?

Eliza

Yes honey, this is probably… um…. [counts with her finger.] our 5th mission? I know the drill.

Arc

Right. You look beautiful. [kisses Eliza on the forehead.]

Azzy

There goes the love birds. Disgusting. [she whispers.]

Arc

What the hell is wrong with you Azzy?! You’ve been acting like spoiled brat ever since…

Azzy

Ever since what? Huh? What’s wrong with me? Really? Have you forgotten?! We were supposed to be duos, Arc. Not a triad. We’ve been through hell together, and just like that. [snaps fingers.] Eliza comes and everything changes. She won’t do good to us! [Azzy turns to Eliza.] You! You did this to us! [back to Arc.] And you were stupid enough to believe this demon. You both are selfish! Selfish! [cries furiously.]

Arc

I can’t believe you; this issue was a year ago! You still can’t accept her. Haven’t you gotten over it yet? I love Eliza, Azzy. Why can’t you just accept reality?

Azzy

Easy for you to say. You were supposed to be my twin. You were supposed to have my back no matter what, Arc. You were supposed to protect me. You made that promise when we were younger. Remember? [wipes tears and looks fiercely at Arc.]  

Arc

Until now, this is still about you? What about my happiness? Why can’t you just be happy for me?

Azzy

When the times comes and everything doesn’t go according plan, and I turn out to be right about her. Don’t come begging for forgiveness. Because I can’t give you one.

[Azzy walks away and slams the door.]

Arc

Right, go ahead and walk away again. That’s what your good at!

Eliza

C’mon let’s go.

Arc

Don’t let her bother you okay? What matters is that I love you.

Eliza

I know… I love you too. I’m sorry… for everything.

Arc

You have nothing to be sorry about.

Eliza

Yea… I hope so… [shows a worried face.]

 Act 4/Scene 4

[Arc and Azzy were caught by A.R.G.U.S also known as Advanced Research Group Uniting Super-Humans. Turns out Eliza was working for them; she was undercover on a mission to catch Azzy and Arc. Apparently, everything was planned out.]

[A man places power-dampening cuffs refraining them from using their abilities.]

Arc

W-what is the meaning of this Eliza?!

Eliza

I’m sorry, Arc. I-I’m sorry.

Azzy

Sorry your face.

[gives Arc a disappointed look.]

Arc

I’m sorry… this is my fault. [he whispers.]

[Arc looks down.]

Azzy

Yea… it actually is. This is all your fault. Everything was perfect before Eliza came and you let her manipulate you. Before you welcomed her into our team. This is on you and I can never forgive you for this. You’re a fool… brother.

Azzy

and you! [she shouts.] When I get out, I’ll come for you. I swear, I will kill you.

[Arc displays deep regret.]

Man

C’mon let’s go big guy.

 Act 5/Scene 5

[On June 8, 1952, two twins were born. Azzy was born with beautiful hazel eyes, just like her mother. Arc had beautiful ocean eyes, just like his father. As they grew older, they were trained to become strong. To become brave and fearless. Every day, they would train and train with their father. While, their mother would watch over them. Little do they know; they were being trained to become professional criminals. ]

Father

Is that all you’ve got boy? C’MON SHOW ME WHAT YOU’VE GOT!

Arc

I can’t dad.

[His father pushes him against the ground.]

Father

What did you say?! No one, in this family is allowed to give up. No one.

[Arc groans in pain. ]

[He slowly gets back up.]

Father

Now fight me boy, fight me.

[Arc hits his dad with his bamboo stick.]

Father

Nice one! I’m proud of you boy. Remember, you are the man. You must protect your sister at all cost. No matter what. If something bad happens to us, do whatever it takes to keep her safe. You must strive for the best. Go beyond your limits. Do not let anyone stop you from reaching your goal. No one.

Father

Now from the top!

[Trains.]

Act 6/Scene 6

[Father comes home drunk.]

Father

Azzy!!! GET ME A GLASS OF WATER!

Azzy

Coming father.

Father

What is this?! This isn’t cold water. How dare you?!

[He slaps Azzy.]

Mother

Luther! What is going on here?! Why did you slap our daughter?!

Father

What did you say?! Did you just raise your tone on me?! How dare you?!

[Strangles his wife.]

[Azzy cries out loud.]

Arc

Dad! What are you doing?! Y-you are hurting mom! Please stop!

[Pushes Arc.]

Arc

Dad, please, she can’t breathe. Please show her sympathy. I beg you.

[His father let’s go.]

Arc

Mom! Are you okay?!

Mother

Yes honey. Mother’s okay. Go to your room okay. I’ll take care of this.

Arc

B-but mom…

Mother

Go! Take your sister with you. Everything’s going to be okay.

[Arc takes Azzy to their room.]

 Act 7/Scene 7

[Every day for 10 years it happened again and again. Their father would constantly get drunk and would beat his wife up. She suffered the same violence over and over again. Until one day, Arc found his mother hanging from a rope. She couldn’t take the violence anymore. She had lost hope. One day, Arc decided that It wasn’t safe for him and Azzy. So, they decided to run away. Far away from their father. With the advantage of having extraordinary abilities, they used this opportunity to steal from people. At first, it was just food. Then, money. Then, jewelries and this happened every day for 10 years.]

[In a high-tech prison cell.]

Arc

I wonder what dad would say if he was here. He would probably tell me how weak and stupid I am.

[Azzy doesn’t response.]

Arc

Are you awake?... I’m really sorry…

Arc

I know you can hear me Azzy…

Arc

I know I wasn’t the best brother to you. I know I was selfish for choosing my happiness without considering yours…

[Azzy opens her eyes.]

Arc

I know that I hurt you very badly. But believe me, I don’t want to do so. It was my greatest fault. I want to protect you from all bad things. But Instead I led us to this…

[sighs.]

Arc

You are my one and only lovely sister. I love you more than anything. I wish you understand. I am not a perfect brother; I too make mistakes.

Azzy

You’re so dramatic.

Arc

Do you forgive me?

Azzy

hmm… I’ll think about it, you fool.

Arc

I’ll give you all the time you need.

Act 8/Scene 8

[Eliza comes to visit Arc to apologize about the betrayal and lies she told. Eliza confesses that she really did love Arc and all of it was true. Arc later discovers that A.R.G.U.S is creating a cure to remove all extraordinary abilities. Eliza wants Arc to take the cure so that they’ll both be together and free to live a life without abilities.]

[Eliza visits Arc in his cell.]

Arc

What are you doing here?

Eliza

Arc, I’m sorry. I had to do it.

Arc

You fooled me, you made me believe that you loved me. You made me turn against my sister. You expect to forgive you?

Eliza

I know an-and I’m sorry. Arc, I really did love you. I didn’t expect myself to. But everything was real, I promise.

Arc

Stop lying to me.

Eliza

I’m telling the truth. I will be waiting for you. I will be with you throughout the process. I will never leave your side. Please, help me prove how sincere I am.

Arc

What process?!

Eliza

A.R.G.U.S is creating a cure for all extraordinary humans. This cure will help you turn into a normal person Arc. I hope you will take it. Please.

Arc

What?! Now, I’m a lab rat. Amazing. What else do I not know?!

Eliza

That’s all Arc. Please think about it. This place will help you to become a better person. One’s everything is over; we can be together again. Please Arc, think about it.

[Eliza kisses his forehead and walks away.]

Act 9/Scene 9

           [On December 15, 2002, the twins were released from prison. Apparently within those 20 years of imprisonment. A.R.G.U.S succeeded in experimenting the cure that would remove abilities from a being by making them normal human beings. For 20 years, Eliza constantly visits Arc. Apparently, they still love each other. Arc took the cure, however, Azzy decided not to.]

Azzy

So… [pause.] I guess this is the end for us.

Arc

Where will you be going?

Azzy

I will go as far away as possible. Far away from you.

Arc

I’m really sorry sis. I really am.

Azzy

[nod.] I know you are.

Arc

So, um… I’ll be moving in with Eliza…

Azzy

Guess love always wins. Does it?

Arc

I guess so…[pause.] I hope you’re going to be fine Azzy.

Azzy

I hope so too. I will start over again. It’s never too late to become happy, right?

Arc

I hope you find that happiness. I know I have.

Azzy

I’m glad you have.

[Eliza walks towards Azzy.]

Eliza

Hey… [soft smile.]

Azzy

Hi…

Eliza

Um… I never got the chance to apologize… and I’m sorry…

Azzy

[sighs.] Forget about it. Don’t worry. We’re good. I wish you both a happy life. It’s never too late to forgive, to grow and to heal.

Eliza

Thank you.

Azzy

So… [pause.] I guess this is it… goodbye, brother. [soft smile.]

Arc

goodbye.

[the twins hug.]

[Arc kisses Azzy on the forehead.]

Arc

[sighs.] I will miss you sis. [whispers.]

Azzy

I know you will, brother. [soft smile.]

 ~j.b.

[watchingrp]

Who are you?                             You are ALYONA PETROVA, the HELLKITE.

lighting a match. ripping off a band-aid. screaming until your throat is raw.

Name: Alyona Petrova Age: 26 Gender: Female Sexuality: Pansexual, aromantic Faceclaim: Alicia Vikander

about.

+ determined, charismatic, phlegmatic - masochistic, vain, cold No one knows less about where Alyona came from than Alyona herself. An orphan, a daughter, a sibling, a risk. True origins are complicated to retain when self erasure was imperative for the Petrova family. Supposedly born in western Russia — when she went on to live in ten different households before she could even walk — who could know for certain? Early on, nomadic living patterns set the tone for the years ahead, engraining into her mind throughout the early stage of infantry that to stay put was to be trapped. Aleksander was her guardian’s name, the brother of her biological father. Her birth mother’s identity was not shared. It remained undisclosed whether she died during labor or abandoned the country shortly after all cords were cut. Considering how twisted the truth was, perhaps she wouldn’t have understood if it had been explained to her either way. At least, not until many years later. Alyona’s earliest memories all revolved around being with her twin sister, Diana. They were as inseparable as they were identical. Solitary was not made of one, but two. She was never on her own, so too was her sister. Where one moved, so did the other. During the summer, a few days shy of celebrating their 4th birthday, they were already in the midst of a celebration. Something had gone well for Aleksander at work, and he returned home with a briefcase filled to the brim with wads of cash. They didn’t notice the swollen bruises or cuts on his knuckles, because that’s how he always looked when he returned home. Sometimes he would disappear for weeks at a time, though the time would feel considerably longer to the twins, they found ample entertainment in exploring the home-of-the-month they had moved into, under the watchful guidance of their housekeeper/governess, Vilde. The twins spent many lazy afternoons roaming the acreage surrounding the Petrova household, wrapped up in their own little world, completely oblivious to a blossoming romantic development between Vilde and Aleksander. A year on, Vilde gave birth to a son that the twins were to refer to as their brother and treat like a sibling. Then winter arrives. Aleksander’s been off grid for three months. Alyona’s nursing a broken arm after slipping on the ice outside. The baby is asleep upstairs, his mother half-slumped over in the chair beside his crib after being kept awake all night dealing his restless sleep schedule. Alyona and Diana has grown used to a lessening in supervision. Suffice it to say, him sleeping peacefully was a novelty; and it meant the twins had at least 3 hours to do as they pleased before he’d stir and home schooled lessons would resume. Tea time was always the first thing to accomplish on their agenda of fun. So, after gathering every toy into a neat circle around the miniature dining table set, 6 year old Alyona balances on a crouched Diana’s back, giggling as she awkwardly climbs onto the kitchen counter to reach the top shelf and get biscuits for them both. Diana was always the more adventurous of the two, but ever since Alyona broke her arm she’d let her lead. Sympathy (weakened) softened her. While perched on the counter, Alyona finds an open bottle of something sweet smelling. It’s bright green and looks particularly pretty when poured into the porcelain cups of Diana’s tea set, unlike the usual boring monotone swirl of hot chocolate. With a cupful each, they cheerfully clink glasses. Diana drinks. Alyona spills hers on the floor before she has the chance, too giddy with the giggles to keep her non-broken hand steady enough. Upon first sip, Diana makes a face and spits and splutters. It didn’t taste at all how it smelled. The reaction only caused naive little Alyona to laugh even harder, believing it was her sister’s intent to make her laugh. Diana, seeking to make her sister happy, continues to drink until the very last drop drains from her lips… along with the color from her face. Alyona learned that day that the telekinetic link between twins wasn’t a real thing. If it was, Alyona’s brain, liver, and kidneys would have been poisoned that day. Instead, only her throat and eyes felt sore from hours of sobbing. For several hours, Vilde tried to soothe her in between trying to get answers to questions. Alyona is silent, unable to pry herself away from her sister, refusing to let her governess approach to cover the sickening sight with a bed sheet. Aleksander returns home before the sun has set, as if miraculously summoned. He turns up at the twins’ room and waits at the doorway, gruffly calling on Alyona to get up. She blubbers something, shocked and confused and vaguely profane. He strictly warns her that Diana is gone and it is wrong to hold onto someone who has already let go. The words finally click something inside Alyona’s head and persuades her to get up. It’s the first time she understands the significance between the living and the dead. Immediately embracing his surviving daughter, behind him, Russian-speaking men in suits appear and tend to the body of her identical. They move in an almost rehearsed precision. Despite being present for it all, Alyona can only understand bits and pieces of the aggressive conversation they have with her father. In her governess’ preference to teaching the children her native Norwegian tongue along with English supplements, her Russian fluency was severely lacking. One word was repeated more than the others — antifreeze. Concepts of the law were above Alyona’s 6-year old comprehension, but she felt it in her bones that there couldn’t possible be anything right about what she had done. Accident or not - she had killed her sister and hadn’t been allowed to follow. She was alone now as punishment. When she was was eventually pulled aside by one of the strange men accompanying Aleksander, the last thing she expects is for them to hold out their hand and introduce themselves as her new headmaster. The winds of change had returned with new ferocity, this time introduced under the guise of a boarding school center intended for youth protection and prevention. It’s purpose for her confused her at first, but she’d always been a fast learner. She sometimes caught the way the home economics teacher would look at her whenever she found herself by the kitchen sink, glassy eyed and standing next to the an open cupboard of cleaning supplies. She’d never forget how peculiar fear looked on a grown man’s face, towards a child. It all seemed so bizarrely set askew. How could they be afraid? She’d don nothing wrong, knowingly. Or was is what she could do that was so daunting? Though what Aleksander specialized in specifically remained a mystery, Alyona also had never thought to directly ask - for part of her feared what she would find. She never believed he’d lied to her about anything, even if omission of information was a form of lying. To be fair, he’d always alluded that he worked ‘with people, for people’. And the involvement of him + ‘people’ was undoubtedly true. When each return visit home came with a new ‘people-produced’ scar or bloodstain, it was clear he certainly was ‘dealing’ with people. She’d never read into it further. In the wake of Diana’s death, it was as if her whole life she’d been under hypnosis, and witnessing death up close was the snap of the magician’s fingers designed to bring her to her senses. She’d never thought anything about her adopted father was odd. She’d never thought it was odd to be primarily raised by someone he’d hired instead of managing the role himself. She’d never thought it odd that he wore an ear piece at all times. She’d never thought it odd when she’d once awoken in the middle of the night to see him adjusting a surveillance camera, planted behind the wall painting in the hall opposite the twins’ room. She didn’t think it odd that he correctly knew it was Diana who’d passed, not Alyona, despite them being identical and him never being around to notice their little differences. Nor did she think it odd that, as her father approached her after finding her standing in front of a cocktail of potentially toxic chemicals, in his eyes she saw nothing but pride. In the days that followed, all dormant suspicions were stirred up and answered simultaneously. The reason Aleksander had deliberately stepped away from taking up too noticeable a fatherly role was to avoid bonding with the twins and becoming privy to one over the other. It was a bloodline issue; twins were a genetic mutation that created a problem, affiliated to a mafia family. One would always be softer that the other and, therefore, a liability. Families were permitted one son and one daughter. Any extras were to be terminated, or adopted out. The twins’ biological father had been murdered by Aleksander, his own twin during their teen years. It happened at a different age for everyone, but once done, activated dormant genes into full expression. It was impossible to be the same after committing a deathly act. Upon discovering the Petrova twins trait had recurred with Diana and Alyona, since their first breaths it had been a countdown as to who would knock off who first. It was their birthright to be inherit a profession of killer calculative skill. Alyona insisted it was an accident… but, all things considered, was there a genuine chance it hadn’t been? And so, whisked off to boarding school, her official training begun. Still shaken by recent events, her participation kept to the bare minimum until she reached a more developed emotional maturity. The prescribed boarding school was intended for providing her with a ‘safe haven’ from the outside world until she reached legal age, and the ‘prevention’ part was the strict surveillance program that prevented her from causing herself harm. Absorbing so much in such a short time often had a whiplash affect, to say the least. The loss of her sister over a petty case of bloodline purity was nothing but revolting to her. It took her over a year to shake though every stage - resistance, anger, denial, bargaining, acceptance. With blood, sweat, and tears to show for it, there was no way the traumatic memory could be permanently shaken from her system. So when they offered her a non invasive release from some of the weight of it through hypnotherapy - she gave in. Able to shoulder her circumstances beneath a layer of numbness, her thoughts were allowed a little bit of clarity. So long as running away wasn’t an option, she did the next best thing - equipping herself with the education needed to mobilize her emotions into something useful. Rebellious destruction, with a cause. If her sister had to die in order for her to be alive, she would fight to make it a worthy loss. The boarding school was traditional in the foundational courses that it offered - covering the basics of academics and physical conditioning. The exception was the highly unusual extra curriculum, where it would be decided if one’s skill lay in hand-to-hand combat, combat strategy, or commanding. As far as she was concerned, being there was a means to an end. As soon as she turned 16 she’d be released, even if that meant going rogue and crossing her own so-called family’s blood. Every time there’s a punching bag in front of her, it’s Aleksander she sees. At 12 years old she’s introduced to chemistry, and her bitter indifference at last gives way to a spike of interest. At first, she’s merely interested to learning as much as she can about antifreeze and it’s properties and dosages affect the body. It was strangely cathartic to know exactly how her sister’s system shut down; how little or severely she may have suffered, what system shut down first, etc. It was purely self-interested curiosity that led her deeper into from there. She began to explore and research different chemical toxins to compare it’s effectiveness to, then wanted to know the most deadly, then what could be created at home versus what could be found in nature etc. Slowly but surely, she went on to learn everything she can about any poisonous compound, element, gas, and plant she could get her hands on. She was fast learner and incredibly apt at understanding each component, as if her brain was hardwired for it. Independent study soon began intermingling with private tutoring and class assignments. Putting her newfound knowledge to use required guinea pigs - and along with that realization, all of a sudden her reasons for being there all finally clicked into place and filled her with inspiration. No longer did she loathe the destiny she was being forced to live, not when she had the ability to send it up in flames from within. She kept it morally reasonable at first and targeted those who actually deserved the side effects of prolonged arsenic low exposure; the group that had been bullying her several weeks. Though she couldn’t remember exactly who was to blame, so she laced all the girls’ in her dorm’s water bottles until the end of term. Her moral ambiguity kicks in when she’s 14 years old catches the eye of a boy in the year above her. It’s not love by any means; merely a practice project in the effectiveness of infatuated persuasion. He’s done nothing wrong to her, never bullied her, or ever looked at her the wrong way… but he’s there, unfortunately for him. And simply by breathing within the walls of this boarding school meant he was affiliated to their twisted arrangement between highjacking the children of murderous families; grooming them into monsters against their will. As one of the system’s pawns - so how good could he really be? During the same term she has him on her radar, she’s studying latin to learn the official name for the plant derivative she drops into his drink (conium maculatum). She watches him the entire time, testing herself. It’s the second time she sees someone die in front of her, but it’s the first time she can say that she enjoys it. There’s an addictive sense power to hurting someone without needing to touch them. It was elevating to her otherwise depressed default state. In the subsequent days, she feels nothing except the desire to do it again. When his body is discovered, his death is written off as foul play between him and a student of his same year he’d supposedly been in a rivalry with. She feels no remorse or regret that the fall is being taken by someone else. To celebrate her 16th birthday and being officially released from the facility, she uses the school’s lab to process ricin. Definitely without and clearance and permission, and in total abuse of school policy and resource, in true Alonya “Fuck You Guys I’m Out of Here” Petrova style. She carries a sealed vial of it with her for several months before she encounters Aleksander. So blinded by his pride for his victorious daughter, she’s able to slip the power into his coffee before she headed overseas to America for a truly fresh start. She hasn’t heard from him since, and assumes it succeeded. No news is good news. Ten years of habit forming bad decisions later, and she’s become the informed, self-centered and self-entitled person she is today. Without regular installments of hypnotherapy, she turned to cigarettes and other occasional recreational drugs on the days it gets too much. Embraced in full swing once again are her nomadic origins - though this time it’s an act of self preservation that keeps her on the go. In every countryside town she visits, a body usually turns up a day later. She tries to discern between those who deserve it versus the innocent, but sometimes all that can lift her spirits on a bad day is a little game of ‘watch the locals play murder mystery’ with each other and chill. She keeps a very low profile. She travels from country to country without using the same name or piece of professionally forged ID more than twice. It’s a game of chase that she never gets caught in. A venture which once began rooted in vengeance, actually became fun. And if anyone asks, like Aleksander said, she had no choice. Her life was predetermined to be deathly; the blood of tradition is woven around her DNA - can she really be held accountable? Always interested in anything mixology related, during her travels she took a bar tending course in order to have a steady side day job (purely for amusement and irony more than anything else). Highly suspicious of others, considering she doesn’t even trust her damn self, she never drinks in public personally unless she’s serving herself from a sealed bottle that originated from a trusted source. She quickly learned not all bars are created equal, and began spiking the drinks wherever she worked depending on her mood. The seedier the bar, the higher the locally hospitalized body count. She’s made a lot of fucked up, reckless, impulsive, ruthless, downright horrible decisions in the past - purely out of boredom. Participating in a reality TV show was another impulsive decision made during a dry spell of activity in her life, barely scraping by on minimum wage. What could be more exciting than living in a fancy place, being showered with attention? Her life is a tragic repetitive mess of revenge, hate, self loathing, and nihilism. The one thing that has been consistent in her life is the love she’s felt toward is her bundle of handcrafted sickening pills and killer potions whilst preparing them. She would keep all of them neatly organized and accessible within sight/reach at all times ( though she never kept track of a poison’s remedies - some just want to watch the world burn. ) Believing the reality show would be a brief stint, she arrived at the villa empty handed and with low to no expectations. Upon discovering the true objective of the show, for the first time in a long while, she felt alive with something: excitement. It seemed to good to be true. Her initial surprise was soon eclipsed by a visceral desire - fuelled by deranged confidence - that if there was to be one winner, she would be it.

[geminidailyfacts]

Gemini ♊

The constellation of Gemini depicts a set of twins, Castor and Polydeuces. It is from this picture the zodiac draws the archetypal Gemini sign. Gemini is the legendary dualistic sign of the zodiac and is rumoured to have almost a split persona, thus channeling the twin depiction. However, this dualism isn't as simple as a personality split. Oftentimes, what is believed by others to be a dual personality is really a discrepancy between how the Gemini would like to be seen, and how he really is. Gemini Profile Gemini's triplicity is in the air element, and his quadruplicity is mutable. These two important classifications help to make the nuances of Gemini's character. The typical chart-dominant Gemini will display many of the following characteristics. A Passion for Novelty Boredom is toxic to a dominant Gemini. The air element that governs Gemini feeds upon intellectual stimulation. Combine that with the mutable and ever-changing energy of Gemini's triplicity, and you have an individual that thrives on new pursuits. Unfinished projects are highly common in the life of a Gemini, as are speedy relationships and abandoned hobbies. This isn't because Gemini is too lazy to finish, but because the typical Gemini is bright and easily distracted. It is a real challenge to tie this one down. A Curious Disposition Geminis ask questions about everything. Pat answers are not for this sign. The air element works strongly to fuel the intellect of all air signs, but the mutable aspect of Gemini keeps the questions coming. This makes for a highly skilled debater. When a Gemini is backed by a high intelligence quotient, you'll see a razor sharp conversationalist that can jump skillfully from topic to topic. Chart-dominant Geminis make excellent lawyers. Socially Outgoing Geminis love to talk, and they are in their element both at parties and behind the podium. They are not homebodies. A Gemini likes to be out and about, learning about the world and particularly about how others think. Witty in Speech and Prone to Banter Conversation fuels a Gemini. It feeds the core of his being. Geminis love to learn, and they also love to share what they have learned with others. However, because their minds work so quickly and draw from eclectic resources, they are absolute charmers when put to the conversational test. One can always look to Gemini for the quick-witted response, and they do love to be contradicted in speech. This gives them an opportunity to deliver fast comedic slaps and wry retorts, the sort that keeps their victims awake and planning responses for many nights. Creative and Quick With Gemini, everything is fast. They are prompt in speech, quick in whim, and the end comes soon after the beginning. Their creativity is always running high and as soon as one project begins, another is already in planning. Efficiency is the gift of earth signs, but Geminis are excellent in theory and planning. Their abilities provide the theories that others will eventually finish for them. Emotionally Aloof and Non-Committal SOURCE Geminis are often seen as emotionally unreachable. This feature is common within all the air archetypes and it is particularly visible when an individual has a moon or Venus in an air sign. The energy in air is locked in the intellect and "head knowledge," so emotional responses are not always recognized, even by the Gemini himself. Yes, a Gemini does have emotions. However these are often cast aside in favor of more logical and tangible pursuits. Romantic Pursuits In relationships, Geminis tend to theorize. They often look at "how I should feel" above "how I actually feel." This causes them to get involved in relationships they are not ready for, and those for which they are poorly matched. Also, because he is ever-chasing new pursuits, it is very difficult for a Gemini to accept commitment. This sign will always be seeking "the best of the best." On the Job Though easily distracted, Geminis can be excellent in the work force. They are not grunt laborers, however. If the job is interesting and appealing, the Gemini will get more done before lunch than his co-workers will accomplish all week. If the task at hand seems mundane and boring, he will procrastinate for a short time before moving on to a more challenging career. Gemini personalities love to be informed about all that is going on at the work place; they will look to their co-workers for input and advice. In spite of their insistence on being in the limelight, Geminis are great team players. Gemini Career Choices No matter which career field a Gemini chooses, it's essential that the job be one that keeps him busy, engaged, and provides opportunities to communicate. Geminis tend to be skilled at working with their hands, but they are not well suited for repetitive tasks. For Geminis, careers that provide opportunities to come up with fresh ideas and innovations are an ideal choice. Excellent career choices for those who exhibit typical Gemini traits include: SOURCE ActorAttorneyInventorJournalistMeeting and event plannerPoliticianProduct development specialistPublic relationsSales professionalTeacherWriter Celebrity Geminis Gemini traits often lead to success in careers that require strong communication skills. Many famous performers, politicians, and writers are born under the sign of the twins. Well known Gemini political figures include: Barbara Bush, June 8George Bush, Senior, June 12Henry Kissinger, May 27John F Kennedy, May 29 Well known Gemini performers include: Clint Eastwood, May 31Johnny Depp, June 9Marilyn Monroe, June 1Morgan Freeman, June 1Nicole Kidman, June 20 Gemini: Two Minds, One Body Gemini is not actually two minds. This seeming battle of personalities is often the result of a conflict between the emotions and the intellect. There is often a disconnect in most air signs between introspection and actuality. Geminis are theorizers, so they can be prone to believe they feel or need something that they actually do not. This is why a Gemini has an excellent time behaving politely when he is peeved, and is smitten when his heart is secretly wandering. Before an outsider can discern what a Gemini really wants, it is important for the Gemini to work out such issues himself. Despite the world's wealth of knowledge and opportunity, a Gemini's main challenge will be to know himself.

[olivereliott]

Custom Bikes Of The Week: 2 August, 2020

A slammed Royal Enfield Interceptor from K-Speed, a gleaming Yamaha TX750 cafe racer from Chicago, a BMW GS given the supermoto treatment, and an inch-perfect Yamaha DT-1 restoration from Germany.

Yamaha TX750A by Ron George At a glance, the ‘speed blocks’ and perfectly formed bodywork on this Yamaha make it feel like an immaculately restored classic racer … except it’s not. It’s actually a custom TX750A—a bike that Yamaha made to replace the XS650, but ended up being a total flop.

Most builders wouldn’t touch one with a barge pole, but Chicago-based hobbyist Ron George was bold enough to have a go.

Ron got the donor from a friend, who’d picked it up as an abandoned project but decided not to go ahead with it. The TX was in pretty beat-up shape, but luckily it was a TX750 ‘A’, and not the first-gen TX that had a notorious amount of issues. And as you can probably tell, much of his inspiration came from Kenny Roberts’ iconic YZR500.

Rather than working off sketches and renders, Ron dove in head first to translate what was in his head into metal. All the bodywork is custom—and that’s especially remarkable,because this was Ron’s first time shaping aluminum. He didn’t stop there though, and the Yammie is sporting under-the-hood upgrades too.

The forks have been rebuilt, and there’s a completely custom (and adjustable) mono-shock setup out back, held up by a Yamaha R6 shock. The front brakes are twin R6 calipers with Suzuki rotors, and the rear drum brake has been converted to a hydraulic setup. Yes, really.

Ron did almost everything himself, from rebuilding the carbs and rewiring the bike, to adding in an oil cooler and TIG-welding a stainless steel exhaust system. He even tirelessly polished all the metal and laid down the graphics, outsourcing only the seat upholstery. Can you say ‘commitment?’ [More]

Royal Enfield Interceptor by K-Speed Royal Enfield’s new parallel twin Interceptor is still a relative newcomer on the scene, but it’s already making waves. It’s one of those rare bikes that looks great out the box, looks even better with a few tweaks, and is ripe for even heavier custom work.

This Interceptor lands somewhere in the middle. It’s a showpiece for Thai super-shop K-Speed, who have loaded it with a full range of bolt-on Enfield parts they’ve just developed. The only fabrication here is a cut-and-shut on the rear of the frame—but everything else you see is doable with the right tools and a bit of time.

Most of the parts are from K-Speed’s ‘Diablo’ catalog. That includes the rear fender, with its license plate bracket and LED taillight, and the seat, side panels and rear shocks. These shocks are a little shorter than stock, so K-Speed dropped the front end to match, then installed 17” wheels with vintage rubber, and a short front fender.

There’s also a new LED headlight, LED turn signals all round, and a set of low and tight handlebars with new grips and controls, and mini-switches wired in. The speedo’s sitting on a relocation bracket to the left of the fuel tank, just to clean up the cockpit even more. A full twin Diablo exhaust system rounds out the package. [K-Speed]

BMW R1200GS by Motorieep The big GS is one of the world’s best-selling adventure bikes, but it’s real tricky to customize. Most attempts to circumnavigate its quirky Telelever front end and complex bodywork fall flat, and few GS customs actually turn out great. Pierre at French workshop Motorieep has cracked the code though, with this wild GS-based supermotard.

The ‘1200 SMX’ is based on a 2007 R1200GS Adventure, but there’s little of the original chunky silhouette left. It’s been transformed with a genius concoction of parts: a modified Ducati 125 Regolarita Six Days fuel tank, a set of newer R1250GS front side panels, and KTM 690 SMC rear plastics.

The tank uses an external fuel pump and only holds seven liters—but there’s space under the seat to install a secondary 10-liter reservoir.

The front end’s been changed entirely, with a set of 50 mm Marzocchi upside-down forks. The rear shock’s from WP Suspension, and the brakes are from Brembo. Pierre swapped the swingarm out for one from a BMW HP2 Megamoto, and laced up a pair of 17” Excel rims.

Finishing kit includes an Acerbis headlight nacelle with LED internals, a custom speedo mount, a UFO front fender and upgraded foot pegs. Pierre also added a Lithium-ion battery, moved the fuel injectors, added a set of BMC conical filters, and built stainless steel exhaust headers that terminate with an Akrapovič slip-on.

If the 1200 SMX appeals to you as much as it does to us, good news: Pierre will build you one in five weeks, provided you throw €27,000 his way. But only one, mind you … he’s limited production to three units, and two are already sold. Once that’s gone, you’ll have to wait until he designs the next-gen 1200 SMX, which will be based on the newer, liquid-cooled version of the GS. [Motorieep]

Yamaha DT-1 restoration by Peter Abelmann There’s a growing sentiment that small capacity motorcycles will save motorcycling. And when it comes to a legacy of building smaller bikes, Yamaha have some real gems scattered across their back catalog—like the charming DT-1.

First released in 1968, the DT-1 was effectively a street legal dirt bike before ‘dual sport’ was a thing. Powered by a 250 cc air-cooled two-stroke single, it was simple, solid and inexpensive.

According to Peter Abelmann, a German classic Yamaha two-stroke expert, the DT-1 was never really brought into Europe. But he managed to find one that was allegedly imported for a now-deceased tennis star; it had very low mileage but hadn’t been stored well, so Peter decided to bring it back to life.

Peter started with a deep clean, which also involved battling stubborn corrosion. Then it was onto repairing parts that hadn’t survived—like a single fork stanchion that had to be swapped out for a part from Peter’s stash. The previous owner had also fitted a 21” wheel up front, so Peter sourced an OEM 19” unit and slotted it in.

The engine was still good to go, but Peter did have to make two major changes. Somewhere along the line, the head had been swapped for a ‘Genuine Yamaha Tuning’ performance part, but it didn’t sound right, so he swapped it for an original head. And one of the cooling fins had broken, so he had a friend repair it with aluminum.

Some parts were repainted (like the exhaust), while others were simply touched up. The end result takes us right back to the late 60s, with just enough patina to keep things authentic. [Via]

[mixtrendingupdates-blog]

Luxury Lean Forskolin Review

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First Drive: 2018 BMW M5

LISBON, PORTUGAL — The story of the BMW M5 is a fascinating and iconic tale. It was born in 1984, when the fabulous M88 3.5-liter straight-six from the mid-engine M1 supercar was dropped into the shark-nosed, razor-sharp E28 5 Series.

Its replacement, the E34, stayed true to the first car’s formula, with more power and a chassis honed to a deliciously sharp edge. Significant changes were applied to the third M5, the E39, specifically the addition of a 5.0-liter V-8. At first, the purists cried. Then they drove it and those tears of sadness turned to sobs of joy. For the next generation BMW unleashed the wildest M5 of them all, the E60, with its howling 5.0-liter V-10 that revved to a heavenly 8,250 rpm. It had its flaws, but damn it was special.

It seemed the M crew from Munich could do no wrong with what had become BMW’s definitive super sedan.

But that was then. The car we’ve come to Portugal to drive on the face of it has abandoned every principle on which the M5 legend was founded. The all-new F90 series 2018 BMW M5 features a twin-turbocharged engine. It is fitted with a fully automatic gearbox. And–the horror–it’s now all-wheel drive.

The missing link in this story, the outgoing F10 M5, was heavy, slightly ponderous, and only really came alive at unspeakable speeds. The F10 ushered in BMW’s 4.4-liter twin-turbocharged V-8 and a greater focus on luxury. It simply didn’t feel special enough to be an M5. Fantastically capable, yes, but rather cold.

How to superheat the M5 formula once again? I can think of a million ways, but the adoption of all-wheel drive, switching from a dual-clutch transmission to a ZF 8-speed automatic, and focusing even more on luxury for $103,595 large doesn’t make the list. In fact, it suggests that BMW either doesn’t know how to recapture the old M5 magic or simply doesn’t care to do so.

At least that’s the narrative I was expecting to report. However, it pays to be open-minded, for this M5 has rediscovered the magic: It’s more aggressive, the ride is busy and uncompromising, it has simply sensational performance, and the all-wheel drive system is wonderfully fluid and playful. And if you really must exit every corner with a full turn of opposite lock? Just stick it in rear-wheel drive mode and enjoy the sort of over-the-limit balance that has always been an M5 hallmark.

Before we explore the car further, let’s go back to the makeup of this mighty machine. It features a revised version of the 4.4-liter twin-turbo V-8 that now produces 600 horsepower and 553 lb-ft of torque, which is mated to the aforementioned 8-speed automatic gearbox. Thanks in part to the new M xDrive all-wheel drive system, it reaches 60 mph in 3.2 seconds can run from 0-124 mph in 11.1 seconds. With the optional M Driver’s Package, it’s also capable of a top speed of 189 mph.

M xDrive essentially allows the M5 to drive the rear wheels only for much of the time, the central clutch pack only sending power forward when the rear starts to lose grip or under sudden acceleration, when extra stability is needed. The rear axle also features the familiar M Differential, although the four-wheel steering system seen on the M550i xDrive was omitted from the M5 to save weight. That seems a strange decision as it works so well on everything from a Porsche 911 GT3 to an M760Li and would surely afford the M5 even greater agility.

Of course, the M5 offers a wide range of adjustment for pretty much every aspect of its dynamic personality. There are Comfort, Sport, and Sport Plus settings for the dampers, steering and throttle mapping, plus three modes for the gearbox, and you can run with full DSC in the more relaxed MDM mode or with stability control dialed out completely. On top of that, the M xDrive has three modes: 4WD, 4WD Sport, or RWD. You can only select the latter two modes when you disengage DSC, but confusingly, 4WD Sport defaults to MDM mode for the stability control, whereas selecting RWD forces you to run completely without electronic intervention. You have been warned.

If this all sounds horribly complex…well, it is. But helpfully the M5 has two preset buttons on the steering wheel labeled M1 and M2. The idea is to let you experiment with the car’s various modes and settings until you’re happy to commit to two pre-programmed and very personal setups. For the launch event held near Lisbon, M1 kept the car in standard 4WD with steering, engine mapping, and dampers in Comfort—and the gearbox in its most serene mode. M2 ramped things up to 4WD Sport with MDM mode for the stability systems, Sport for steering and dampers, Sport Plus for engine mapping, and tickled the gearbox tickled up to level two of three.

The first surprise? Even in docile M1, the M5 feels eager—aggressive, even. The engine doesn’t have the pumped-up theater of the E63 S, but it matches it for response and revs, with even more energy at the top end. The ride is taut and controlled, too. Over short, sharp bumps the M5 fidgets and thumps. Up the speed and things smooth out, but only a little. On Portugal’s pretty decent highway system the M5 feels never less than firm. Turn on to smaller, more interesting roads and the uncompromising feel of the chassis translates into real agility, excellent body control, and a feeling that this all-wheel drive system favors the rear wheels at all times.

I haven’t mentioned the gearbox yet because it took a while for me to remember it wasn’t a dual-clutch unit. Yes, it’s more mannered than the old M DCT ’box at low speeds, but it’s also more decisive and punchier when you’re exercising the twin-turbo mill.

In M2 mode, the M5 hits hard and clean, and every shift is tight and synchronized perfectly with my requests on the steering wheel-mounted paddles. It doesn’t have that super clean and almost magical feeling of the best dual-clutch ‘boxes, but it’s pretty close and beats rivals like the AMG or the Cadillac CTS-V hands down. I can’t think of an automatic that feels this responsive save the 10-speed unit in the Lexus LC 500.

So it takes just a few miles to be deeply impressed with the M5. In fact impressed is the wrong word. The old car was impressive. The new M5 is fun and exciting—and pretty uncompromising, too. In full luxury mode it, feels like a proper sports sedan; dial everything up to Sport Plus and it’s almost rabid. On these narrow, craggy roads the M5 actually works best with the dampers in Comfort, while Sport Plus feels like a racetrack only setting, which is handy as I’m following brown signs marked ‘Autodromo.’ Estoril is awaiting our arrival.

The old F1 circuit is delightfully shabby with huge, sun-bleached grandstands that reek of faded glory, but Estoril remains a serious test for any car, let alone a circa-4,250-pound monster like the 2018 M5. The M Division worked hard to keep weight down with items like a carbon-fiber roof and despite the adoption of all-wheel drive, the F90 is actually lighter than its predecessor. However, it never fulfils the old cliché of “shrinking around you” on the road. It’s a big car and it feels the part. This much mass plus AWD should mean understeer and plenty of it on the track, right?

Nope. The M5 wants to turn, though you have to be careful not to be too greedy on turn-in. Once the front tires bite and you’re on the throttle, the big sedan errs towards oversteer rather than howling push. The 4WD Sport mode really is effective and while the M5 doesn’t feel as deliberately rear-biased as the E63 S, its behavior is more fluid and natural. On the limit you tend to find some understeer on turn-in, followed by a lovely four-wheel drifting phase mid corner and a little flourish of oversteer on the way out. MDM mode allows you to experience this pretty well, but turn off all the stability systems and the easy-going nature of the M5 even when the tires are slipping and sliding is addictive.

The track also allows you to enjoy the M5’s engine at its full potential. With bigger turbochargers than the previous M5, greater boost pressure (24.5 psi vs. 21.8), and a higher-pressure and more precise fuel injection system, the 4.4-liter V-8 simply chews up straights. The noise feels a little artificial and is clearly augmented by the speakers—and if you love the gargling-with-ball-bearings and spewing V-8 fire and brimstone of an AMG, the M5 sounds a little tame—yet the work it does cannot be criticized. Its character comes not from the soundtrack but from a cocktail of precision and organ-crushing power.

It’s enough to test the optional carbon ceramic brakes to the absolute limit around Estoril. The pedal goes long after a few laps and the M5 starts to shimmy and dance as the braking performance is tested, but they’re going through an extreme and unrealistic regimen: Five fast laps with a half-hearted cool down lap, sit in the pits for three or four minutes soaking up all the heat as drivers swap, then repeat until the fuel tank is dry or the tires are worn out. On the road, there were no issues, but such is the performance on offer here. Given the weight being hauled around, I suspect the carbon ceramics would be well worth the outlay.

By the end of the day the F90 M5 has confounded my expectations. Rather than moving away from the old M5 formula, it has used new technologies to return closer to it. This is a super sedan that can be used every day yet always feels special and doesn’t compromise outright performance for a veneer of luxury.

It’s also an M5 to the core. Breaking all the rules, I tried one lap in RWD mode. The tires needed changing by the time I returned to the pit lane. Welcome back. We’ve missed you.

2018 BMW M5 Specifications

ON SALE Now PRICE $103,595 (base) ENGINE 4.4L twin-turbo DOHC 32-valve V-8/600 hp @ 5,700-6,600 rpm, 553 lb-ft @ 1,800-5,700 rpm TRANSMISSION 8-speed automatic LAYOUT 4-door, 5-passenger, front-engine, AWD sedan EPA MILEAGE 16/23 mpg (city/hwy) L x W x H 195.5 x 74.9 x 58.0 in WHEELBASE 117.4 in WEIGHT 4,255 lb 0-60 MPH 3.1 sec TOP SPEED 155 mph (189 mph w/M Driver’s Package)

Source: http://chicagoautohaus.com/first-drive-2018-bmw-m5/

from Chicago Today https://chicagocarspot.wordpress.com/2017/12/15/first-drive-2018-bmw-m5/