#dæmon mama

[aercnaut]

hahaha hahaha what if lee adopted your muse and hester groomed their dæmon with her wee little paws like a mama hare hahahaha jk

unless

[secondbetrayer]

@mothersmalice wanted a birthday thing for lyra.

“mama!” lyra ran towards her mother, stopping as she reached to express her excitement by bouncing a little on her feet. pan, in his pine marten form, was moving around in excited circles beside her and let out an delighted squeak when he stopped.

“mama, it’s my birthday!” both child and dæmon had been even more full of energy than usual this morning, once they’d woken up and remembered what day it was.

[kirjava-stan-account]

am I the only disciplinarian around here?? ffs...

ლ(=ಠᆽಠ=)ლ ∫ ̑̑

[x-heesy]

𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗗𝝠𝗬𝗣𝗛𝗨𝗡𝗗𝝠𝗬

𝗜𝗙 𝗬𝝝𝗨 𝗖𝝝𝗨𝗟𝗗 𝗙𝗨𝗖𝗞 𝗠𝗨𝗦𝗜𝗖

𝝠 𝗧𝗥𝝠𝗖𝗞 𝝠 𝗗𝝠𝗬 𝗞𝗘𝗘𝗣𝗦 𝗧𝗛𝝠 𝗗𝝝𝗖𝗧𝝝𝗥 𝝠𝗪𝝠𝗬

𝗚𝝝𝝝𝗦𝗘𝗕𝗨𝗠𝗣𝗦 / 𝗜𝗡𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗡𝝠𝗧𝗜𝝝𝗡𝝠𝗟 𝗕𝗘𝝠𝗧𝗦 /𝗜𝗡𝗧𝝝𝗠𝗬𝗦𝝝𝗨𝗟 / 𝗘𝝠𝗥𝗚𝝠𝗦𝗠 / 𝗧𝗛𝗜𝗭𝗭 𝗜𝗭 𝝠 𝗚𝗜𝗙 𝝠𝗧𝗧𝝠𝗖𝗞 / 𝗦𝗘𝗫𝗗𝗥𝗨𝗚𝗦𝝠𝗡𝗗𝗦𝝝𝗖𝗞𝗦𝗪𝗜𝗧𝗛𝗛𝝝𝗟𝗘𝗦 / 𝗣𝗨𝗡𝗞𝗦𝝠𝗥𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗗𝗘𝝠𝗗 / 𝗛𝗘𝗟𝗟 𝗬 𝝠𝗦𝗦 / 𝗚 𝝝 𝗗 𝗜 𝗦 𝝠 𝗗 𝗝 / ΓЯДCҜФFΓHΞDДУ / 𝗗𝗘𝗘𝗣𝗗𝝠𝗥𝗞𝝠𝗡𝗗𝗗𝝠𝗡𝗚𝗘𝗥𝝝𝗨𝗦 / 𝗣𝗛𝗨𝗖𝗞 𝗜𝗧 𝟰 𝗣𝗛𝗨𝗡 / 𝗪𝗜𝗧𝗛𝝝𝗨𝗧𝗠𝗨𝗦𝗜𝗖𝗟𝗜𝗙𝗘𝗪𝝝𝗨𝗟𝗗𝗕𝗘𝝠𝗠𝗜𝗦𝗧𝝠𝗞𝗘 / 𝗪𝝝𝗡𝗗𝗘𝗥𝗙𝗨𝗟 𝗜 𝗖𝝝𝗨𝗟𝗗 𝗖𝗥𝗬 / 𝗪𝗘𝗜𝗥𝗗 𝗜𝗦 𝝠 𝗖𝝝𝗠𝗣𝗟𝗜𝗠𝗘𝗡𝗧 / 𝗦𝗜𝗖𝗞 𝗡 𝗧𝗪𝗜𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗗 🎧 / 𝗟𝝝𝗦𝗧 𝗜𝗡 𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗘𝝝 / 𝗧𝗛𝝠𝗡𝗞𝗦 𝗟𝝝𝗥𝗗 𝟰 𝗠𝗨𝗦𝗜𝗖𝗞 / 𝗜𝗠𝗙𝗥𝗘𝝠𝗞𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗙𝗨𝗖𝗞𝝝𝗨𝗧 / 𝗜𝗡𝗘𝗘𝗗𝗧𝝝𝗗𝝠𝗡𝗖𝗘𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗙𝗨𝗖𝗞𝝝𝗨𝗧 / 𝗦𝗨𝗕𝗕𝝠𝗦𝗦𝗠𝝠𝗦𝗦𝝠𝗖𝗥𝗘 / 𝗦𝗛𝝠𝗞𝗘𝗪𝗛𝝠𝗧𝗬𝝠𝗠𝝠𝗠𝝠𝗚𝝠𝗩𝗘𝗬𝝠 /𝗗𝗥𝝝𝗣𝗕𝗘𝝠𝗧𝗦𝗡𝝝𝗧𝗕𝝝𝗠𝗕𝗦 / 𝗥𝝝̈𝗛𝗥𝗧 𝗪𝗜𝗘 𝗛𝗜𝗥𝗦𝗖𝗛 / 𝗜’𝗠 𝗗𝗜𝗦𝗖𝝝 💃🏽🕺🏼💃🏽

𝗜 𝝠𝗠 𝝠 𝗗𝝠𝗡𝗖𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗦𝝠𝗡𝗗𝗪𝗜𝗖𝗛 🎧💃🏽🕺🏼🪩🚀💥

#panicdynamicpandemic #trackoftheday #gifattack #gifmania #moody #edm #electronicmusic #shakewhatyamamagaveya @melimelo85 #raaaaven @boanerges20 #electroshockboogie #dancemfdance #partymusic #lostinmusic #thankslordformusickkkk

𝗧𝗥𝝠𝗖𝗞 𝝝𝗙 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗗𝝠𝗬: Human Nature by DÆMON

[jamlavender]

Bad Apple

Then came the washing of the hair, the neck, the face, all manner of lotions and potions swept across Lyra’s skin until she was squeaky clean and beaming. The detangling spray smelled like pear drops; the conditioner like vanilla and hibiscus. The moisturiser was thick as clotted cream. By the time Lyra was snuggled into Mother’s bed, hair combed, book in hand, nightdress on, she felt like an iced cake or sweet biscuit, or perhaps a flower in a garden, ready to be picked.

“Have you chosen a story, darling?” Mother said, as she removed her own diamonds, watch, hair grips; as she wiped away her mascara, lipstick, powder, eye-dust; as she applied her own cleanser, toner, moisturiser and night cream.

“Uh-huh,” Lyra said, holding up the book. “I mean: yes, Mama, I have.”

“Wonderful,” Mother said, in the soft and special night-time voice that let Lyra know she meant it.

Lyra had chosen the book quickly, not because she didn’t care about that evening’s story, but because she loved to lie in Mother’s blankets and watch as Mother rubbed away her layers of paint and metal; as she revealed the woman who was only Lyra’s mother beneath. Then came the silk pajamas, the lavender pillow mist, the twin mugs of hot chocolatl. The story, read aloud in French, their secret language in the heart of London. The forgotten prayer, even though both Lyra’s schoolteachers and their priest said that praying before rest was a necessity. The lights turned out, Mother’s arms opened, Pantalaimon and Mother’s dæmon sitting sentinel at their feet. Mother’s arms were Lyra’s favourite place to sleep in all the world; as a young girl, she’d hoped that she’d always be allowed to snooze in that warm, safe embrace, the smell of Mother’s potions and perfumes perfusing her dreams forever.

Such was the way of Lyra Coulter’s little life.

An AU where Marisa raises Lyra herself; all glamour and terror and lies. Read it now on AO3. 

[honeybadger-the-pop-witch]

Hear Me Out Here — A Theory for “National Treasure: Edge of History”

Spoiler warning for Episode 3: “Graceland Gambit”

And so my craziness begins… Bard and I were replaying one scene in our heads for the past two-ish hours. This scene, mind you, seems quite mundane on the surface level. We have a boy, in Graceland, singing one of Elvis Presley’s most well known songs (and one of my favorite Elvis songs) in order to help our lovely leading lady sneak into a secret room to find the clue to the next puzzle box so they can prove that their parents didn’t die for nothing. And, as the group of tourists sing along, our dynamic duo just barely manage to sneak out—but not after the performance comes to an end while simultaneously heavily making the insinuation that these two are end game as a romantic couple.

So why does it loop in both the minds of my dæmon and I?

Well because of what the ending hints at and the added layer it gives both the dynamic and song chosen.

You guessed it! Not-That-Pretty boy Liam played “Suspicious Minds” by Elvis! This song is very clear in what it’s about, two people love each other but cannot trust each other. Now, how does the ending of the episode give this scene more depth other than famous Elvis song to play at Graceland? Well, popular songs—if done right—usually have some layer of meaning to the narrative they’re used in. Movies like Shrek 2 and Mama Mia are built around the songs in their narrative, and shows like the Umbrella Academy have them integral to the writing process. With the exception of Suicide Squad from 2016, popular music usually helped highlight whatever subtext of a scene along with directing choices.

Throughout the scene where Liam performs “Suspicious Minds”, we mostly see him surrounded by the other tourists. They first start away from him, but draw closer and closer as they join in singing along. It’s his vote of confidence in his dream that he was lacking the first two episodes. People wanted to hear him sing. But we never get a close up of his face to see what he’s thinking or feeling—not until Jess emerges from the secret room with a recording of the message containing a clue and the relief is palpable in his face. And then we get a semi-close up of Jess who can’t believe what she’s seeing. Then the tension shifts and he’s singing right at her. For her.

Is it love? Certainly not yet, but the tiny hints of attraction that we are getting in the first two episodes begin to grow subtly from this point on.

When Liam does some editing to the audio file so they can hear the clue properly, he waits until Jess is with him to flip it and hear Elvis’s recording. Then the next thing we know, Billy has the clue distilled and flipped on her cellphone—there’s a turncoat in Jess’s crew.

Now, what’s the theory?

Well it’s quite simple, “Suspicious Minds” literally outlines the rest of Jess and Liam’s AND Jess and Ethan’s interactions for the rest of the season.

Wait—when did Ethan get involved?

Liam is the most likely suspect for being turn coat. He barely knows Jess and didn’t even know Jess had DACA until episode 3 after their stunt in Graceland… when Ethan told him.

Listen, I love Ethan. He’s the level headed friend of the group that, before Liam came along, was the only person that was on Jess’s wavelength. He loves her both romantically and platonically, but she refused to go out with him over fear of destroying a friendship. All he has ever done is look out for her and wore his heart on his sleeve—something Billy can manipulate, as seen in the first episode where she kidnapped Oren and bartered his safe return for the obsidian puzzle box. He was against the hunt to begin with out of fear of Jess getting deported, so perhaps sabotaging it from the inside is the only way he can think of to keep her safe… especially if Billy somehow got to him off screen.

It might be why he let it slip that Jess is undocumented. Because it’s hinted at that no one ever tells anyone about Jess without Jess’s permission, especially Ethan.

Now, don’t get me wrong Liam is sketchy too since he’s the only one we know can work audio software like that. His dad died on this quest and he has some serious granddaddy issues. It’s quite possible he’s helping Billy to get back at his grandfather for his part in Liam’s dad’s death. But the fact of the matter stands that once Jess knows Billy has the same clue, Liam and Jess’s relationship will be much rockier than it has been—but are they…

Caught in a trap? And [they] can’t walk out because [they] love [each other] too much baby?

Bard seems to want to withhold judgement until we get more information. But I think I’m right with this. Thoughts? After all, Jess can’t achieve her dreams with suspicious minds.

[lewis-winters]

part of my dæmon au (I suggest reading this if you're not familiar with the concept of dæmons. Just for the extra gut punch.)

---

Thalia settles during their jump into Normandy, but George doesn't realize it-- they both don't. Not until Foy.

He figures it's because she'd been a cockatoo before-- numerous times, in fact, ever since they were ten and found that they could make their mama laugh with a wonky impression of their papa. It was probably the form Thalia was the most comfortable in, this large bird with a beautiful crown of feathers that puff up every time she crowed with laughter or used their particular talent of imitation to mimic their superiors and their dæmons to make their fellow men laugh. People had always marveled at their brilliant memory and their skill at recreating them with nothing but their voices, weaving a tapestry of the past to help bring joy to the present. It was a point of pride and comfort for the both of them, and so it made sense that Thalia would shift into one the night of their first jump.

It had made even more sense, that she'd shifted into one that was midnight black with just bare traces of red on the tips of her tail and wings.

"I didn't know they came in this color," George remembered musing out loud, running a finger over her beak before trailing it back over the plume of her crown.

Thalia had peeped in her special, boisterous voice; "I'd rather this than get covered in camoflauge grease."

George had agreed. And with the night all around them, they soared.

Here in Foy, however, they are in trenches, and George can't help but think of upturned soil falling in chunks all around them under the force of mortar rain. Red smeared across sludged snow, intermingling with the mud and seeping into the earth below their feet. Against the constant white of Bastogne, Thalia was a smear that had proudly stood out, with her whistles and her voices, drawing giggles and laughs from tired mouths. But here in the outskirts of Foy, she blends in with what little remains of Skip and Alex. A smudge of black and red on the tainted ground of a wretched forest.

Thalia picks Skip's rosary up with her beak to give to Don, and the finality of it all guts George like a knife.

That's when he realizes that Thalia hasn't shifted for months.

Oh, he thinks, balling his hands into fists to get them to stop shaking. This is who we are now.

Now here they are, in Hageneu, George smoking a cigarette with Web and his raven dæmon, Annabelle, perched atop his helmet like a gargoyle, dramatic and gothic and so stereotypical of a boy with such a scholarly dæmon, it was almost comical. George figures he and Thalia aren't any different, with her sat on his shoulder like a spectre, solemn and silent. As still as a statue. She hasn't said a word since the assault on Foy, and George has done little to fill the silence. Web, cowed by the less than warm welcome back, says nothing, too. Annabelle, however, runs her beak, talks nothing but nonsense that is more to herself and Web than for anybody else. George ignores it all, concentrating on the smoke in his lungs, the stick between his fingers, and the lingering smell of blood and sweat on his clothes. He breathes out a cloud of nicotine.

Annabelle turns to them. "You're a red tailed cockatoo. Native in Austrlia." she tells Thalia in a rough whisper, like each word might be a wail of grief. She pauses. "The people there say they ferry the dead into the afterlife."

George goes still.

Cold dread has run down his spine, and fury like none he has ever felt before rises. He whirls around, about to do the unthinkable, about to reach out and throttle this little smart aleck of a bird until she might be silenced, nevermind that it's wrong, nevermind that she's Web's dæmon, how dare--

But Thalia beats him to it.

"They sure do teach you a lot in Harvard," she says in a voice not her own. In a voice of a dead man. A perfect imitation of Don Hoobler.

Every one freezes. The fury that has lit up in George now a dying ember in the wake of the sadness that takes over Web's whole face, his blue eyes deep pools of regret that matches the bottomless pit that's formed in the cavern of George's chest. Thalia, on his shoulder, squawks in surprise, crown puffing up, just as Annabelle turns away from her and barely keeps down a wrecked sob.

"I'm sorry," Thalia says, still with Don's voice, remorse coloring it ragged. "I'm sorry."

"No, I am," Annabelle tells her. "We are."

Web ducks his head, and in the middle of the street in Hageneu, he, Annabelle, and Thalia cry.

George says nothing. He finishes his smoke.

It's not the last time it happens. It's the beginning. Every day brings forth a different ghost, a different fallen man from Thalia's beak. First Don, then on the night of the patrol, Alex and Cressida, their dual voices scoffing in distaste at the state of Lieutenant Jones. The next morning, it's Julian, his alabama accent uttering a single line of expletives muttered under Thalia's breath for nobody else but George to hear. On and on, ghosts pour out of her, every impression a reminder of the absence and the aching loss, and every day George becomes more distant, pulling away from her as far as their bond will allow, until their conversations are simply her talking at him while George flinches away. They keep to themselves more, now. It's no use, sharing this grief when others are already so leaden with it all. Thalia is his, he is Thalia's. The ghosts she summons are for them. Selfishly and selflessly, he does not want to share.

"I'm sorry, George," Thalia tells him on the night before they are to depart from Thalem, in a whisper that sounds exactly like Skip. George closes his eyes and sees his friend's last moments, screaming for Luz as Ilaria fluttered around his head, an iridescent ruby red violently snuffed out by the flash of mortar fire so bright, George couldn't make out the floating Dust that had no doubt become of her. His chest clenches. "I'm sorry, I can't stop. I don't know how to stop."

George runs a finger over her beak, then the plume of her crown. He thinks of what Annabelle had said, about life and death and those stuck in between. The ferrymen, cursed to constantly say goodbye, burdened with the inability to forget as each soul slips past their fingers and into the ether, every atom dissolving and turning to floating Dust, leaving nothing but a shell behind.

He squeezes his eyes shut and forces himself to recall-- Alex's cackle, Cressida's playful growl. Dukeman shuffling cards, Karimlan's exasperated huffs of breath. Jackson's childlike wonder, Bedeviere's quiet chitters in her otter form, as she held Jackson's finger to lull them both to sleep. There are more, and George remembers them all. His eyes prick, hot with tears. Is a ferryman supposed to feel so deeply? Is a soldier supposed to cry for the dead he leaves behind? It doesn't seem fair, a burden so large. Surely he'd been good, been a decent human being enough to avoid such a painful task? Yet here they are, trapped in hell on earth, his dæmon a mere shadow of her former self, her voice stolen away by dead men. Her wings as black as upturned earth, her tail feathers as red as freshly spilled blood.

He runs his fingers through Thalia's wings. Feels them soft and precious between his cold fingers. She is warm.

What will the world remember, he wonders, when this all ended and they've returned stateside, these soldier boys wounded and forever scarred by the things they've seen and done and experienced. He thinks of the years going by, the distance and time dulling the hurt, smoothing out the edges. Life is so long just as it is so abruptly short. If he lives to see himself out of this war, would he remember or would he forget? Would he continue and allow them all to fade in a death more gentle but just as unfair as the first?

The thought leaves him colder than he has ever been. He buries his face in Thalia's wing.

"Tell me," he pleads with her. "Tell me the last thing he said to us. Before the mortars started."

Thalia squawks, plume puffing up with dignity and pride. "See ya, Luz," she peeps in Skip's whisper. Then, in Ilaria's; "Good night, Thalie."

George closes his eyes, and after a second, Thalia follows suit.

[morinover]

Tagged by @trensu

Rules: Answer 20 questions, then tag 20 bloggers you wanna know better

1. Name: You know that joke, “Nice name, did your mom pick it for you?” My given name was actually the only one chosen by my mom. I do like my nickname/chosen name better, though. Now I can be like “Thanks, I picked it myself!” It’s a very unusual name, spelled the very usual way, and I like it that way. I still have to spell it out sometimes(???)

The Hebrew version of it means “My friend”, which I like a lot. (Shoutout to Public Universal Friend)

2. Nickname: Technically my chosen name is my nickname on official forms. “Morin”  has been my online nickname for 20 odd years, with all sorts of variations. It was the last name of an author of some paper I found interesting and I just chose it when I had to pick one. I never thought it would stick around for so long.

3. Zodiac sign: Hufflepuff. Kidding, it’s Taurus. I don’t believe in it, but my BFF likes it. I still think Hogwarts house/HDM Dæmon etc tell you more about a person.

4. Height: 163 cm

5. Languages: Fluent: Hebrew, English; almost conversational, or used to be but aren’t anymore: Romanian, Spanish; Used to have basic vocabulary but lost even that: German, French, Latin.

6. Nationality: In the process of changing

7. Favourite season: Winter, mostly bc I’m always hot. Also, no bugs. Snow is still a novelty. 4 distinct seasons are still a novelty - I moved from the California-style climate of wet season/dry season to a place with 4 actual seasons. So I guess I love all of them except summer bc too hot. Summer rains are nice though.

8. Favourite flower: Wildflowers, growing wherever they please. Not indoors.

9. Favourite scent: Until recently I was anosmic - that changed with hormones - so I’m still figuring it out. I love the smell of my spouse, I like the smell of frankincense, I like the smells of various flowers and foods.

10. Favourite colour:  Cyans: turquoise, aquamarine, teal, etc. Not sure if I have a favorite shade.

11. Favourite animals: I love cats but I’m allergic; Love dogs. Mostly love the others from afar - I’m not educated enough for in person interactions, and I live in a city.

12. Favourite fictional character: Depends on time of day 😂

13. Coffee, tea or hot chocolate: Tea, preferably English Breakfast, black or white but not green. Camomile infusion also acceptable.

14. Average hours of sleep: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯  I think I manage to keep 8 a night usually

15. Dog or cat: Either one as long as they’re chill and I’m not allergic.

16. Number of blankets you sleep with: usually one; when very hot, just a sheet; when cold, sometimes a throw over the blanket

17. Dream trip: My parents are really into travel and dragged me all around the globe to see both natural and human-made wonders. I like the city, I like exploring neighborhoods I haven’t been to and coming back home. The only reason I travel now is to see friends/family.

18. Blog established: 2014. I started @paramorin as a fan blog and then started befriending tumblrites, and needed a non-fandom blog to post other stuff. My actual main blog is technically my side blog.

19. Followers: about 300 for @paramorin, about 200 for @morinover.

20. Random fact: I’m usually reading 3 books at a time: one in bed before falling asleep; one for subway/bus rides, waiting etc; and one in the living room. Books get chosen based on how engrossing they are, how likely they are to make me cry etc. (like my father before me, I cry because of songs on the radio and other minor provocations; it’s not sobbing, just a few tears sliding out. I assure you it’s very manly. Healthy masculinity or something)

Tagging whoever wants to, no one has to.

Would be cool if these people will do it, but no pressure: @stillnotanonymous, @impishtubist, @aturinfortheworse, @theragnarokd, @badwolf109, @tehanulilac, @iofthebunny, @bricrocodile, @mama-bop, @verasteine, @amit-rider, @zelenybish, @angelchrys, @not-a-lizard, @princefuckyouknickers

[a-magpie-witchling]

Alright hatchlings, mama Magpie sees you and hears your concerns.

I’m making a whole post on dæmon unveiling and theory. Probably will post it tonight!

[rjalker]

"The man stepped forward into the light and took off his hat. He was in late middle age, lean and brown-skinned. His expression was calm and courteous, and his dæmon was a very large and beautiful cat." So anyways now that I know who's being cast as-- I almost just called her mama Murphy--ma Costa, I really am not looking forward to the show anymore...

[floweringeclipse]

Iris Amicitia Personal Info

Full name, preferred names, nicknames

Iris Alexia Amicitia [”flower/messenger, defender, friendship”]. Iris/’Ris, Little Flower, Īara [Twin Verse alias].

No name preference– totally adores having nicknames

Date of birth, age, place of birth, nationality

July 7th, 1991 [M.E. 741 according to FFXV calendar]. Presently 25. Born in Insomnia of the Kingdom of Lucis. Insomnian-Galahdan (mother is from Galahd) [I HC that-- in terms of irl nationalities-- Iris, Gladio, and their mother are of mixed races, but my Galahd HCs are inspired by Philippine culture]

Physical aspects

Eyes: Reddish-brown eyes Hair: Dark brown hair, thick and wavy Complexion: Tan skin that boasts plenty of beauty marks and scars [scars chart here] Build/Height: Slender-athletic body type, presently 5′5″and bitter Laterality: dominant right hand but slightly ambidextrous

Health Issues/Disabilities

-Weak immune system as a child. Anemia and asthma are prominent up until her teenage years.

-During the World of Ruin her hands and fingers have constantly received damage due to being a hunter (choice of fighting style is quite frankly that of a Monk Class; favours the use of enhanced power gloves) that even simply holding a pen and writing legibly gives her trouble.

-Close to the end of the World of Ruin timeline, severe injury on her right leg causes the need for it to be amputated just below the knee. By the time dawn returns, Cidney has outfitted Iris with a sturdy prosthetic that also happens to be a sweet weapon :)

Sexual orientation, relationship status, monogamous/poly/open relationship(s)

Panromantic/pansexual. Relationship status: single, but verse dependent. [established ships and tags here]

She’s more than okay with being in a polyamorous relationship.

Currently or been in a relationship?

Yes– at the age of 19 she had a casual but very brief relationship with a Doman girl who resided in Lestallum during the worst of the dæmon attacks in the town.

The story Iris will relay to anyone not extremely close to her is that her relationship lasted a good three weeks before they had to part ways because of Iris’ role as a hunter being too demanding for her to stay in one place. Even so, only a handful of close friends and family know that Iris was unable to save her then girlfriend from a rogue MT’s gunfire during a raid on their small outpost.

Father’s name, status, occupation, other general info

Clarus Amicitia, deceased, Lucian-born, member of Lucian Crownsguard and Lucian Ruling Council. Was a strict man of high position though a kind father to his children (even if he wasn’t terribly present in Iris’ life during her childhood).

Mother’s name, status, occupation, other general info

Dea Nivenia { @galahdanwildflower }, deceased, Galahd-born. Played an active role in Galahdan politics and keeping the community safe before marrying into the Amicitia Household and becoming a member of the Crownsguard alongside Clarus. Claimed to have been killed in action, Iris was 5 years old at the time.

{ Galahdan HCs here // Mama Amicitia info here }

Siblings, status, occupation, other general info

Gladiolus Amicita, elder brother, alive and kicking ass, member of the Crownsguard and the late Prince Noctis’ personal bodyguard and friend. A loving, responsible sibling who had practically been a parent to Iris at a young age. Iris loves him dearly.

Seifer Almasy, (’adopted’) elder brother, also very much alive and kicking ass, Niff glaive and hunter. Despite the rather complicated family relationship, Iris still very much loves Seifer and will never stop thinking of him as family. Family verse with thekingsshield’s Gladio.

Izunia Lucis Caelum, adoptive elder brother, Lucian King and sweet mentor. Circumstances have brought the two together during the World of Ruin and Iris is grateful to have another person to love and care for like family.

Other close family, friends, relationships

Cor Leonis, adopted not-father-figure, Crownsguard Marshal and mentor. One of the most important people in Iris’ life; he’s been a prominent person in her life since her childhood and Iris practically owes her life to him.

-Jared Hester, Amicitia Household butler, deceased. -Talcott Hester, Jared’s grandson, much like a little brother to Iris. -Dustin and Monica Elshett, Crownsguard members and Iris’ loving caretakers. The Chocobros, of course.

Other important facts?

Phobias: -Developed Thalassophobia (fear of open water) around the time of her mother’s death, because all she had been told then was that her mother drowned in Galahd’s waters. The imagery caused her to have night terrors continuously. -Develops severe Monophobia (fear of being alone) during the World of Ruin. More info to come.

Favorites

Color: Moogle red, fuchsia, magenta, purple Least favorite color: yellow-green, bright oranges Music: upbeat pop songs and tranquil instumental music Food: desserts, anything with berries, anything that isn’t spicy Literature: fiction, or anything with a happy ending. She doesn’t read much anymore though Hobbies:training, chocobo-riding, gardening, arts and crafts (primarily doll- and figure-making, even general sewing). During the WOR: hunting and weapon-making Most prized possession(s): -Moogle and rabbit dolls made by her mother -Necklace pendant given to her by Gladio (a medallion with floral design) -Doman-style daggers, birthday presents from Cor

[kirjava-stan-account]

absolutely nothing gets by me...do not try it!