#perette

[masterkliys]

Sarebbe molto interessante trovare gente che amano parlare di clisteri e perette...e affini...e che magari li praticano...scambiare opinioni, esperienze.... i cultori della giuliva siringa, capiranno al volo....

[diario0de0una0putita]

[dozydawn]

[nicecurves]

[housedeaubemarle]

(The Silver Tattler, Is. 10)

~~

“Darling Philomene, is Oudine quite alright?”

The Dowager Viscountess sits in her chair, as upright as always, sipping fragrant Ishgardian tea from a porcelain cup. A sumptuous tea service sits between her and her companion, complete with pastries, water biscuits and a generous wedge of good Ishgardian cheese to accompany the latter. One would think two highborn ladies whose ages totalled to about 130 turns would have smaller appetites than the amount of food warranted - one would be mistaken.

She looks at the older lady before her whose face is full of concern. Seeing as it's her sister-in-law, Perette de Hellyes, as lovely a soul as one could hope to meet, it is genuine.

So she sighs. “Perfectly fine, dear. If the Viscount de Aubemarle hasn't enough sense to keep her name out of tawdry publications, she at least has the wherewithal not to let it trouble her.”

Perette nibbles a madeleine delicately, as the concern is replaced by some relief. “Domin and I had been rather worried - this is the first time we've heard our niece being spoken of in such a manner.” She waves a hand encircled by a jadeite bangle airily. “Not that we really believed you would countenance a match between her and the Losstarot head, fond as you are of those young men.”

Philomene snorts. “Fond, indeed. When have I ever given the impression I was fond of them?”

“Well dearest, you must admit: giving away opportunities to be introduced to members of the ton after just one meeting is a hint if nothing else. And have you not been quite kind to them in public?”

She sniffs. “My generous daughter wouldn’t have heard of anything less. As it is the wish of the viscount, I must do my duty as a member of her household.”

Perette grins, knowing full well the Dowager’s peculiar way of expressing affection: denying it utterly in words but showing it in contradicting deeds. “Such an obedient Aubemarle, my love. I am proud of you.”

Philomene gives her a look before returning to the previous topic. “Well, regardless of my… fondness, if you insist on calling it that, I will not have my darling girl be shackled to such an inexperienced innocent. Lord Joshua is yet to be fully tried in our crucible since the ton has been more concerned with his older brother on the whole. Now they will be paying more attention to him; it ought to be a worthy learning experience.”

Perette's eyes twinkle. “That cannot be the right description for someone who has been through a Garlean invasion.”

Her sister-in-law shakes her head. “There are different wars fought here, as well you know. Garlemald quakes before the judgement of Ishgard's beau monde.”

The ludicrous statement makes Perette laugh, even as she understands the sentiment. “And have you considered that Oudine may have her own plans? She is more than of age, and can make her own decisions without your approval – a union with Losstarot is not exactly that poor a prospect.”

Philomene arches an eyebrow at her. “Perette my love, only you may say that to join hands with a man of that house is not a poor outlook.” She takes another sip, and shakes her head. “Whichever bride Lord Joshua brings into that family is going to need a stomach of iron to confront such an unsavoury history, to say nothing of the veritable wealth of rumours.”

“And if Oudine should find herself in love at long last?”

This gives the Dowager pause, but only to set her teacup down and laugh. “Love! My daughter and Joshua de Losstarot!”

“I don't see why you should scoff so,” protests Perette. “From what I see, he is as eligible a bachelor as any! A steady young man with clear ambition, and rather good looking too. Not quite as handsome as the older brother, but certainly features one may appreciate even up close.”

“Fury love you, sister,” replies Philomene with some incredulity. “Would you marry Lucinne- no, stay; of course you would. She chose Felixient and you agreed.”

Perette shakes her head. “Now really darling, Felixient is a lovely man.”

“Oh yes, and without a single sensible thought in his pretty head, even after becoming a father,” says Philomene dryly and without hesitation. “It says much that your featherhead of a son-in-law is, by leaps and bounds, more acceptable than either of the Losstarots as they currently stand. It will take a few more turns before the reason they had to be reinstated even begins to fade into obscurity.”

Perette's amusement, in spite of this (long-familiar) abuse of her son-in-law, is written all over her face. “And that is your only objection if Oudine should wish to marry Lord Joshua? His current standing in society?”

Philomene narrows her eyes at her. “Perette, what has my daughter said to you?”

Perette immediately raises a hand in surrender. “Absolutely nothing, I promise you faithfully.” She sighs. “I merely think it would be nice to see Oudine in an actual romance for once. The poor dear has never found anyone who suits her. Not that she’s had any head for it in recent turns, understandably, but nonetheless…”

Philomene snorts. “She could if she would but listen to good advice.”

Perette gives her sister-in-law a wry smile. “All your dossiers and reconnaissance have yet to bear fruit, I take it.”

The Dowager rolls her eyes. “Stubborn girl.” But the words have no real critique in them.

“Well,” says Perette, picking up a biscuit and the cheese knife. “Perhaps it's for the best Oudine hasn't actually lost her heart to him. Apparently the younger Losstarot was seen stepping out with a mysterious woman some mornings ago; not too long after sunrise, as I’ve understood.”

A silence falls as she cuts a small corner of cheese to spread on her biscuit.

“He what.”

Perette immediately looks up, cheese forgotten. The Dowager's posture has gone more still than earlier, and from afar it would have been nothing remarkable.

But Perette has known her for well over thirty years, and can tell the glitter in Philomene's dark brown eyes is one of utter displeasure. The twitch of her lips is also tellingly unhappy.

“My dear one, you just said-”

“I am aware, love. He what?”

The thought that she may have spoken carelessly crosses her mind rather too late. Perette sets down the knife. “Now darling, it’s all just talk – I heard from one who heard from another and so on and so on. You know how it works,” she says soothingly. “It’s nothing certain at all.”

Philomene does know how it all works, which is why her frown is relentless. “And where did you hear this uncertain whisper from?”

Perette lets out a breath. “My dresser happened to mention it – with all good intentions, to be fair to her; the Tattler also reaches the Foundation after all, and she'd remembered the name of Losstarot.”

The Dowager closes her eyes in consternation, very nearly trembling with indignation. Pity and gossip from a lowborn woman because a prospective suitor has (apparently) moved on within mere suns – suns! – of (allegedly) courting Oudine: her precious girl, treasure of her years, only daughter of herself and Vouloix de Aubemarle.

How dare he.

From the far reaches of her (unjustified) mental outrage, she catches Perette’s voice. “Darling, it is most likely all a falsehood. Besides, you just said there is no possible chance of Oudine ever marrying him. Why in the Fury’s name should this bother you so?”

“Because!” snaps Philomene, and her eyes open at the same time. “It subjects her to the mortification of even more vulgar rumours! The cheek of it – waltzing with my daughter and then stepping out with some common woman?”

Perette is quite used to these wild mental leaps but this is a particularly tricky labyrinth. Still, she tries to keep up. “Philomene, we have no idea who this woman is, common or otherwise. And I really do think a man ought to be free to converse with anyone he pleases – goodness, where would anyone be if one waltz shackled us forever to conversation with that singular individual and only them? It would be lunacy.”

“That is not what I meant!”

Perette blinks. She has a vague clue what Philomene does mean, but can’t quite parse it. She settles on something more sensible. “At any event, I hardly think he set out to offend – and again, if it’s true which it well may not, did you not also just say he is an inexperienced innocent in the ways of the ton? He’s hardly a rake, from what I can tell – it’s unlikely to be anything but a simple misunderstanding. How could he possibly know a mere walk might be twisted into anything more?”

“Well, he should!”

A deeply hidden part of Perette wants very much to laugh at this farce, and particularly at the petulant tone her sister-in-law has taken. Yet any outward show of humour at this point would probably result in an unfortunate incident involving the butter knife. So she quashes the impulse and turns all her energy to calming down the tempest which has arisen. (And also discreetly moves the knife closer to her side of the table).

“My dearest Philomene, one of your best qualities has always been your maternal devotion to Oudine. I know you desire nothing but the very best for the dear girl. The offense is only natural, to be sure.”

Philomene breathes in, and out. That much is true.

“And if anyone so much as forcibly plucks a hair from her head, I am assured you would go to war with them, be they ever so highly placed as the count of Durendaire, or as dangerous as the Tribunal's inquisitors themselves. So what is the lord of an old, noble and recovering house to you?”

That is also true.

“No one, my love, could doubt your affection for your children. None at all.” Perette refills Philomene's cup. “But you know, my dear, your dedication sometimes overwhelms you, understandably of course. Yet I know you are far too sensible a woman to let it overtake you for long. You must remember your health, dearest, lest you be overwrought – we are not as young as we used to be, after all.”

Philomene finally lets Perette's calming – almost cooing – tone settle over her, relenting enough to even drink the fresh cup of warm tea.

“There now,” says her sister-in-law, still employing her mollifying tone. “Isn't that better? Now we may think comfortably.”

She gives Perette a look. “You are not entirely subtle, sister.”

Perette just beams. “Which is just as well since I had no such intentions.” She picks up a madeleine and places it on Philomene's plate for emphasis.

Philomene, in spite of herself, breathes in and out. “Well. After the service he has rendered, one supposes Joshua de Losstarot may be given the…” she sips her tea again, as if to swallow her feelings, “benefit of the doubt, in the face of… admittedly baseless, vulgar hearsay.”

Perette keeps smiling. “Precisely. An eminently more reasonable approach, I say. You've met the young man more often than I have, so you would know far better than any rumour monger, of course.”

“...well, I can’t say I know him all that well,” says Philomene slowly, allowing herself to be convinced by this notion. “But certainly I know enough that he is not inclined to even dally with women, much less keep a mistress hidden somewhere.”

“There you are then,” says Perette, patting her on the hand. “I’m sure they mistook him for someone else. White hair and grey skin are so common these days after all.”

Philomene’s cup rattles a little more than it should on its saucer, but Perette’s tone is perfectly empty of any implications. She does mean what she says.

So the Dowager merely reaches for the madeleine and bites into it, as her sister-in-law takes the opportunity to change the subject.

~~

“Ah, my son, what a rare pleasure to find you home for a change.”

Remont looks up from where he’s been perusing a journal in the study. He immediately places it back where it’d been on the shelf and strides over to his mother. “My dear Mamma, you talk as if you want me tied to your apron strings.”

She takes the arm he proffers with one hand, while the other holds onto her habitual walking stick. An eyebrow is raised in his direction. “Can you deny that we’ve not had you at our dinner table for the past ten suns?”

“Now madam, it’s easy enough to confess I haven’t been there. Yet do consider how five of those ten have been spent out socialising alongside you and the viscount,” says Remont with an easy grin as he leads her to an armchair. “And I distinctly recollect being in the same carriage as you, both to and fro on at least three of those five occasions.”

The Dowager snorts, though the smile is evident. “At least you have such grace to admit the other two did not see you return with us.”

He stands in front of her, still smiling amusedly. “I’m a wretch and a scapegrace, but not a liar.” He adds, before she can open her mouth, “As much as I can help it.”

She gives him a look, putting both her hands on the topper of her cane. “Hmmph. You have your father’s silver tongue.”

“As precious a gift as his name,” he says, with evident sincerity. It mollifies his mother enough to employ a softer tone.

“Remy my dear, I’ve heard some things from your aunt this afternoon. I should like your opinion on them.”

He bows in assent. “They are yours as best as I may give them, ma’am.”

“It involves your sister in some capacity.”

Only a sharp-eyed mother would have noticed some of the casual ease disappear from his posture, though he manages to keep himself quite relaxed overall. “Oh?”

She looks him directly in the eyes, and it is like looking into her own, which makes it easier for the question to emerge: “Has she a tendre for Lord Joshua?”

Remont is genuinely taken aback, staring at her in such shock that the question seems thoroughly answered. Nonetheless, she waits for him to gather himself so she might have solid confirmation.

“My lady mother,” he says at last, feeling like he’s just climbed over the Coerthan mountain range without benefit or aid of magic or mount. “What, in all the names of the divine Twelve, gave you that impression? You cannot still possibly think the Tattler was entirely correct.”

“I was given that impression, dearest, by your aunt asking me that exact question.”

Remont shakes his head. “Dear Aunt Perette, always on the lookout for her niece and nephew’s potential soulmates.”

The Dowager raises an eyebrow. “As am I, for my own children. Thus I must ask directly since subterfuge is beneath us.” Such a blatant mistruth and his accusatory stare bounces off her.

He sighs. “No Mamma, Dine doesn’t fancy either of our cousins in such a way. She has become very attached to them both, and would seek their good and happiness, but it is no tendre.”

“And she has told you this?”

Remont looks at her despairingly. “Mamma, will you not ask her yourself rather than doubt my word for it?”

“I will not subject your sister to such embarrassment when she has so many other concerns to deal with.”

“And I am worth subjecting to this embarrassment? Have I no other concern?”

The Dowager does, in fact, love her son very much, for it is only a real mother’s affection which could offer, in as dry a tone as could be mustered: “My dear child, when have you ever been embarrassed in matters of the heart?”

“I could start!”

She gives him a wry look so devoid of belief, it should have been immediately hauled into the Tribunal for interrogation and executed for heresy.

Remont throws his hands up in exasperation. “She hasn’t told me in so many words, but it is clear to see, Mamma. Dine has no intention of setting her cap for them, and the feeling is mutual.”

“Alright, then tell me this: has either of those boys any serious intention of courting anyone this season?”

Her son goes from exasperation to bewilderment. “I… I honestly couldn’t tell you. Mamma, why would you be remotely interested in the matter? Are you thinking of adopting them?”

“Don’t be ridiculous; one son is more than enough.” She huffs. “My lord Joshua was allegedly walking out with a young woman of unknown origin soon after the Tattler was published. Just after dawn no less. Your aunt’s own dresser brought the news to her.”

Remont can feel a laugh rising dangerously to the surface. Oudine had told him about her pre-breakfast, not-quite-rendezvous with Joshua. She's going to screech at this unexpected development. “R-really now? Did she say what the young woman looked like?”

“No, she did not,” says the Dowager with a more pronounced scowl. “Hence my question to you, as one who has spent far more time with my lord than I have.”

Remont keeps his hilarity down admirably. “I assure you, Mamma, if Joshua has any, ah, particularly close connection, it is not known to me. Nor, I’d wager, to him, considering how he has little real interest in the matter.”

The Dowager’s eyebrow rises higher. “Is he not the one who keeps speaking about the future of his house?”

Remont smiles helplessly. “It doesn’t quite translate to courtship nor its success.”

“Hrrrmph.” She taps her fingers on her walking stick, looking away from her son and at the fire crystals in the hearth, thinking and digesting the new information she’s received. Remont stays quiet, watching his mother’s face.

“Your sister has always hated being the subject of gossip, yet she has handled this without complaint,” she says eventually, thoughtfully. “Outwardly at least.”

“She’s bearing it gracefully, yes.”

The Dowager looks back at him. There is concern mingled with sharpness in her eyes. “Yet she’s not as inured to it as you and I, my son. I don’t know what you’re both scheming, but for my sake, have a care.”

Remont blinks. “What could we possibly be planning, Mamma?”

She snorts, as she pushes herself up from her seat, using her walking stick. “I hardly know. Call it a mother’s instinct, if nothing else.”

He looks at her for a moment, then breaks into a fond smile, and stepping closely to her, kisses his mother on the cheek.

“Thank you, mother mine.”

The Dowager gives him a look. “And what have I done that's worth such thanks?”

“Why, for giving us life of course. Is that not what you’ve constantly reminded us?” he says with a grin. It becomes wider when she swats him on the shoulder, in quite the same way his sister often does.

“Impudent boy,” she says, though she smirks. “Are you staying for dinner?” When he nods, she smiles in satisfaction. “I will see you and your sister then.”

He bows and watches her leave the room, walking stick softly thudding with every other step. When he’s left alone again, he lets out a sigh, sinking into the armchair she has vacated. He does not look forward to if and when the Dowager discovers the other piece of gossip Oudine is planning to manufacture. Then he pictures Joshua's face when he finds out yet another rumour - now with his specific name in it - is spreading and chokes on a laugh.

“From no scandals to two in seven suns; Fury love you, Joshua de Losstarot…!”

-

End.

[lisamarie-vee]

[amalgamatedclothing]

[viiioca]

Estelle de Laussienne

B A S I C S

Name Estelle de Laussienne (born Fauconnier)

Nicknames None in regular use; her adoptive brother uses "Essie" to get under her skin.

Age 24 (ARR) - 30 (Dawntrail)

Nameday 17th Sun of the 5th Astral Moon

Race Half Sea Wolf Roegadyn / Half Midlander Hyur

Gender Cis female

Orientation Bisexual

Profession Chirurgeon. She's a woman of many roles and skills, but only one professional license, though in another life -- say, in a non-WOL AU -- she might have wound up the Scions' "diplomatic advisor" (crisis manager and fixer).

P H Y S I C A L A S P E C T S

Hair Black; as of the end of Shadowbringers, salt-and-pepper with a shock of white in her bangs. Coarse curls are courtesy of her roegadyn heritage. She has never cut her hair ("long hair is a woman's glory" and all -- have you seen Halone's? You cannot convince me there's nothing in Halonic scripture about it) and mostly wears it pinned in complex updos.

Eyes A dark violet, inherited from her father.

Skin A light, rainy-day grey inherited largely from her mother, with her father's cool pink undertones.

Tattoos/scars Being a healer -- and a terrible patient -- Estelle has few scars of her own, as she takes care of her own injuries and prides herself in the sort of detailwork in her physicking that reduces or prevents scarring. Which means the ones she does have are from the wounds she was too incapacitated to heal herself, gnarly clusters of keloids and ragged hypertrophic slashes from effective but graceless emergency healing: sternum to hip from the fight with Elidibus at Ghimlyt; side to side across her belly from the fight with Zenos at the end of creation; and her oldest, a mottled burn scar around her left shoulder and collarbone from the dragon attack that took her parents. She keeps them glamoured when able and looks at them as little as possible.

F A M I L Y

Parents

Hermine Fauconnier Her roegadyn mother; the seneschal and right hand woman of House Laussienne, Hermine was in charge of its books, employees, and trade logistics, and her service in return won her family as stable, secure, and comfortable a lifestyle as a lowborn could wish for outside of the Church. Deceased.

Renaut Fauconnier Her hyuran father; a chirurgeon formerly of the Hospitaliers who transitioned into rural medicine as a traveling physician once he tired of the battlefield. Deceased.

Perette de Laussienne Her adoptive elezen mother; the head of House Laussienne and a shark in the waters of Ishgard's nobility who raised Estelle like she was her own daughter. For better or worse, Perette taught her much of what she knows. Deceased.

Siblings

Verain de Laussienne Estelle's adoptive brother. While they had a good relationship in their youth, a wedge formed not long into their teenage years when it became clear his mother's favor rested with a lowborn halfbreed. Still alive and currently head of House Laussienne, having been unceremoniously handed the reins when Estelle suddenly left Ishgard -- a fact that has done nothing to repair the rift between them.

Grandparents

None still living.

In-laws and Other

Over time, Estelle develops no shortage of family-like relations: Edmont, who regards her as a daughter; Alphinaud and Alisaie and Ryne, the little siblings she never had; the Scions, living together like a colony of stray cats. (And, though this is quite far in the future and something she would not want to think too much about even then, Lyna would technically be her daughter-in-law. The absolute dawning horror the first time Lyna calls her "grandmother" as a jest.)

Pets

Animals tend to like Estelle more than Estelle likes the concept of caring for an animal long-term, especially with how much she travels. The absolute closest she comes to owning a pet is spoiling the Rising Stones' resident ratcatchers.

S K I L L S

Abilities

Arcanima The cornerstone of her combat abilities and field "healing" (more like Preventative Medicine), which branches out into Allagan summoning as she spends the years between Heavensward and Dawntrail refining equations based on primal waveforms.

Medicine This includes everything in the typical Eorzean chirurgeon's skillset -- everything from general practice to surgery to autopsy is on the table (hah) -- as well as an alchemical background to synthesize and administer basic pharmacological treatments.

"Politics" The catch-all umbrella for her social skillset, Estelle relishes the networking, information gathering, and strategic maneuvering required to throw one's weight around in powerful circles.

Hobbies

Languages Though the Echo translates for her, it's still a rare and special skill regarded with suspicion in most corners of the world. Estelle enjoys picking up what she can of the local language in her travels to put people more at ease, especially as she wanders out to more rural locations.

Sketching/watercolors A skill picked up in a previous relationship, though her fondness for it far outlived her fondness for her lover. She finds it relaxing to draw and paint the sights in her travels, and she keeps extensive journals.

Cooking A domestic skill cultivated to a high level in the interest of being a "good wife" in her youth, turned into something of an obsession for learning new foods and techniques as she travels the world. Estelle delights in any occasion she has access to a stove and the opportunity to set a lively table.

Piano All young ladies of good breeding learn the arts during their education, and Estelle is no exception, though the piano is the only instrument that stuck. She enjoys playing when she finds the time, and a piano to actually play on.

"New skills" Estelle takes any opportunity to throw herself into doing something badly for the simple joy of trying something new. Most attempts to train for more physical skills like archery and swordplay fall under this category: things she'll likely never take seriously, but she enjoys using these moments to build new connections and relationships with her teachers.

T R A I T S

Most Positive Trait: Her friendliness. Estelle finds it natural to move into the lives of others and share their spaces, joys, grief, and problems; if she doesn't find success, it certainly isn't for a cold demeanor and lack of goodwill.

Most Negative Trait: Oh we've got a whole answer for this one. There is only so much friendliness can accomplish when Estelle does not accept the vulnerability of real connection.

L I K E S

Colors: Contrary to her severely black and mostly monochrome wardrobe, Estelle most enjoys dramatic, rich jewel tones and soft pastels.

Smells: The complex layers of an expensive, well-made perfume; fresh-cut jonquils; the chaos of food stalls in an open-air market; aspen woods in a crisp, fresh snow

Textures: Soft furs; the inner lining of a favorite pair of gloves; the smooth gloss of lacquered wood; the weighted feedback of ivory piano keys.

Drinks: A glass of well-aged dry red wine; coffee in the Ul'dahn style, unfiltered and highly sweetened, flavored with cardamom; Ishgardian tea, strong black leaves dressed with bergamot, steeped directly in hot milk and sweetened with buckwheat honey.

O T H E R D E T A I L S

Smokes: Yes, infrequently, and never socially; in times of high stress, she will smoke exactly one (1) cigarette when alone and thinking very deeply on something she wish she did not have to think deeply about, or when she needs to aggressively work over a problem in her mind. She's picky about her tobacco and prefers a Hannish clove-spiced blend. (Her case holds 20 cigarettes and the only time she's had to refill it because she's simply run out is during Endwalker.)

Drinks: Yes! All the time. I imagine Ishgard has a very robust drinking culture woven into most social rituals (alcohol features more prominently in Heavensward than nearly any other expansion except perhaps Endwalker) and Estelle is a very social creature. Of course there's an aperitif! And of course there is a glass or two of wine with dinner. And of course there must be a digestif. And of course there will be a nightcap as the evening winds down. She likely consumes more alcohol in a year than the rest of the Scions combined, and that includes that era where Thancred was getting trashed regularly to avoid coping with the Lahabrea situation. That said, she very rarely drinks alone, and almost never drinks with the intention to get inebriated.

Drugs: Nothing hard, but if someone hands her a bhang thandai during a festival in Radz-at-Han she's not going to turn it down.

Mount Issuance: For the same reasons Estelle doesn't keep a pet, she also doesn't keep a mount; she prefers to take carriages and ferries and airships, ride along with caravans, or rent chocobos. When she needs a pair of wings or to go somewhere she would feel guilty bringing a live animal, she relies on the sliver of his aether that Midgardsormr left with her to summon his form much the same way she might summon an egi.

Been Arrested: Estelle has spent most of her life being a law-abiding citizen. The amount of laws she's broken in the line of duty has spiked rather dramatically since joining the Scions, of course, as it turns out that subversive operations and overthrowing heads of state is illegal in those states, but good luck arresting her.

thank you for the tags @oneiroy, @ubejamjar, @ahollowgrave, and @idalenn!! i actually did a tag thing this time i did it i did the thing i was tagged to do

tagging……..@astralflows @menphinaswhitemage @archaiclumina @yloiseconeillants @rhotdornn @angelinecarax @fairygodpiggy @ilbers @mostlystarsandcandybars @caorann8 @morgana96 -- and anyone who hasn't been tagged yet!! i wanna read your lore

[ncisfranchise-source]

The prequel bug has finally bitten the NCIS franchise—and it might be the best thing the series has done in years. NCIS: Origins is an upcoming prequel series in the popular crime drama universe, looking back at the early career of Special Agent Gibbs (Mark Harmon) in his early days as a member of the NIS, the precursor organization to NCIS. While prequels can often be divisive among fans, the decision to look back at Gibbs’ younger days has incredible potential for revitalizing the entire franchise.

Set in 1991, NCIS: Origins explores the early career of Leroy Jethro Gibbs, a new agent at the NCIS Camp Pendleton office. The series delves into Gibbs' formative years under the mentorship of Special Agent Mike Franks. The prequel provides insights into Gibbs' background following the tragic loss of his wife and daughter.Release DateOctober 14, 2024CastMark Harmon , Austin Stowell , Robert Taylor , Patrick Fischler , Kyle Schmid , Diany Rodriguez , Tyla Abercrumbie , Mariel MolinoMain GenreCrimeSeasons1

'NCIS: Origins' Is a Prequel to the Popular Crime Series

NCIS: Origins takes place in 1991, following a young Leroy Jethro Gibbs (Austin Stowell) in his early career as a special agent for the Naval Investigative Service (NIS), the precursor to the Naval Criminal Investigative Service (NCIS) that audiences are far more familiar with. The series sees Gibbs working with Special Agent Mike Franks (Kyle Schmid) based in Camp Pendleton, exploring their student-mentor relationship decades before their interactions on NCIS, and years before Gibbs moves to the DMV. NCIS: Origins takes place shortly after the tragic death of Gibbs' wife and child, one of the most intense and transformational experiences in the character's life. Still dealing with the raw grief and trauma from the deaths, Stowell's portrayal of the beloved character will be seen through a more emotional and vulnerable perspective — a stark, but welcome, contrast from the more stoic and stalwart version of Gibbs that audiences are familiar with.

With such an early setting in the expansive NCIS universe, it's interesting to note that NCIS: Origins even takes place before JAG, the original series that started the entire NCIS franchise. NCIS had its backdoor pilot on JAG, first introducing the world to fan favorites like Gibbs, Abby (Pauley Perette), and Ducky (David McCallum). While it’s unlikely that Rabb (David James Elliot) and Mac (Catherine Bell) will make appearances in the new show, the upcoming series has plenty of opportunities to pay homage to all the series that came before it. However, just as with any NCIS spin-off, the new cast of characters set to be introduced will be sure to bring their own distinct personalities and traits that make them just as memorable as any other team in the shared TV universe.

'NCIS: Origins' '90s Setting Keeps the Franchise Fresh

Not only does the setting of NCIS: Origins provide a fresh perspective on a familiar character, it will also entirely shake up the investigative process for the crime show. Though NCIS doesn't necessarily push the envelope of science fiction with its approach to technology, it's nonetheless kept up with the modernization and digitization of the world around it. Throughout its many years on air, the technology used by their special agents has remained cutting edge, featuring pinpoint facial recognition and otherwordly computational software. While it's not the central focus of the show, modern-day technology serves as an integral factor in how the NCIS team solves their mysteries, with characters like Abby Sciuto using the pinnacle of forensic analysis in nearly every episode.

However, the lack of technology in the 90s presents an entirely different landscape for the younger Jethro Gibbs. Without the same tools available, NCIS: Origins' setting presents a unique set of challenges and intriguing plot points that separate it from other series in the franchise. The solution to its mysteries has to be solved analog rather than digital, forcing the writers to innovate in ways that the franchise hasn't seen in years. While the '90s may not seem that distant in the past, the fledgling NCIS team will still have to solve their crimes in drastically different ways from the modern series. Even with access to military equipment (which tends to be the most advanced of its time), the writing team has plenty of new angles through which to explore their naval investigations.

Not only will this restriction create more intriguing plotlines, but it will also serve to frame Gibbs in the context of his entire career. By the time NCIS starts, Gibbs is a renowned and respected agent, with years of experience that make him a capable, reliable leader. However, the earlier setting of NCIS: Origins means that a novice Gibbs must make a name for himself in a field with limited resources and experience, making for a far grittier and more hands-on approach to crime solving than in recent seasons of the series.

Mark Harmon Is an Executive Producer of 'NCIS: Origins'

While it can be daunting to explore the beginnings of NCIS after decades of successful television, NCIS: Origins has done its job of sating audience hesitation. Though he likely won't be returning to NCIS anytime soon(a departure that the series is still feeling the effects of), Mark Harmon is one of the executive producers at the helm of the show, giving the seasoned actor considerable input on the portrayal of the younger Gibbs. And though he's handed off the baton to Stowell, Harmon still gets a chance to reprise his role as the series' narrator. His involvement all but guarantees that the iconic character’s spirit remains intact; an especially important consideration considering Gibbs is arguably the most important character in the entire NCIS franchise, not just his own individual series. While audiences may miss Gibbs on NCIS, loyal fans of the franchise await in eager anticipation for the character's return in NCIS: Origins, set to premiere on October 14 on CBS.

[jrdf-unblog-fr]

FROM TNO TO COLONEL HATTIE... KING LOUIE SAYS TO YOU BLACK PEOPLE ARE HACKING SO MUCH THE INTERNET PRETENDING THEY ARE ZARABOYS IN DA HOOD BUT ME FRIEDRICH NIETSCHE OF COURSE I AM ZARATHOUSTRA LOUIS XIV XV AND XVI ALSO LOTS OF ALTER EGO IN RUEIL MALMAISON LOTS OF HURLUBERLUS KILLED 30 000 TIMES THEY THINK THEY RESSUSCITATE IN KERY JAMES... STOLE A KIRI / COMPLOT HARA KIRI ? / PROFESSEUR CHORON / CHARLIE HEBDO KILLED BY OUZZAOUITE BROTHERS AND CORRUPTED KAAMELOT STUDIOS / MALCOLM IN THE MIDDLE COMPLOT DES SUPER HEROS ET DJIHAD ATOMOSPHERIQUE QUI TUE DES ENFANTS DANS LES ECOLES EN FRANCE PROSTITUEE DE BABYLONE EST ALINE CHEVILLARD EVOQUEE DANS SLIDERS... CLOWN VOUS DIT QUE LES ROBOTS ESSAYENT DE VOUS TUER... POSSIBLE RICHARD NIXON BIOMECANIQUE... POUTINE EST REMPLACE ET COMME IL N A PAS LES JO POSSIBLE GUERRE... COMPLOT DU RACISME JORDAN BARDELA VIEUX PSEUDO MELENCHON A FAIT TIRER SUR SON PUBLIC DES ALIENES TIK TOK ET VIEILLE VOUIVRE DE MERDE QUI VEUT NOUS TUER ET ANNE HIDALGO AVEC... CYCLON / MR CYCLON / COMPLEXE MILITARO INDUSTRIEL ET LA VALETTE RACHETEE SHITA HAPPENS RECU LE PLAN CONCHITA DU SKULL AND BONES... AU BAR LE SPORTS BAR LE SERVEUR M A DIT QUE VOUS ETIEZ INJOIGNABLE... DES TROTTINETTES INTERFEDERES DES CONS DES VIOLEURS POUR ME FAIRE PETER UN CABLE... NCIS INFILTRE PAR PERETTE COMPLOTS ALIAS 1 TUEE PAR LE CHANTEUR DANS LES CHANSONS SONS OF ANARCHY MAMMON ESSAYE DE VOUS TUER PREUVES A L APPUI DES SITES DE PROUD JEWS RELIES A PROUD JOE BIDEN RELIE A DES SITES DE ROBOTS TUEURS POSSIBLE LUCIFER ET LUCYFER ON THEIR WAY... LA BETE EST UNE BOULANGERE GRAIN D OR THEORIE BERKY BEK PLAGE ALL ALONG... MARTINE JAMBON LA MERE DE MELANIE JAMBON SE PREND POUR MR OLLIER ET LES REPTILES SONT GRAVES FURAX. BANDE DE BABOUINS VOUS VOUS CROYEZ IMMORTELS ? DES SITES DE RENCONTRE QUI REPRENNENT MA TERMINOLOGIE WAHOU J AIME PAS LES VIEILLES BOULANGERES QUI SQUATTENT LES BOULANGERIES BOULANGER A RUEIL MALMAISON... OU ON VOIT DES TUEURS DE FLICS GENRE LUCAS STEPIEN QUI A ETABLI LA POLICE DE LA PENSE... BILL GATES EST EN ENFER... SITUATION HORS DE CONTROLE. J AI SKYNET SUR MON TELEPHONE REDMI 9A LE LIKOUD EST INTERESSE... JE VOUS LE LIVRE SI VOUS M EXTRAYEZ. TNO / CLOWN.

[laytonnpcbracket]

ROUND 1 POLL 44 SIDE A

About the NPCs (may contain spoilers -- proceed with caution!):

Phineas Barnone is one of the Seven Dragons. He owns the Saveloy theater.

Otherwise known as: クラーク・ゴスペック (Japanese); Bernhard P. Heller (German); Leonard Goldman (Spanish); Hugues O. Perette (French); Philippe T. Mustach (Italian); Ton Aylemeester (Dutch)

Splinters is a member of the Family.

Otherwise known as: ピランチ (Japanese); Frankston (German); Peppino (Spanish)

[444names]

roman emperor, tolkienesque and french forenames + roman places and deities BUT excluding "i"

Adalf Adane Adanus Adette Adroth Aetor Agnus Alate Aldang Aldar Alemna Alemon Alenwë Alette Amrah Amrodda Anast Anbora Ancus Andel Andra Andred Androth Angeleb Annator Annon Annonum Antus Anáro Aphrod Apollus Aquaes Aracae Aracaen Arach Aragus Araharn Aranc Arancan Arata Arato Aravane Arazôn Ardanel Areth Arette Argestë Argetas Argette Argue Arles Arleth Arnar Aroma Artas Artha Arvedum Arvelyë Ascatar Ascate Astans Aules Auram Austus Bacca Baldar Balus Banna Barazôn Baugus Belebor Belegon Beles Belle Benor Beona Beorl Beracum Berence Berenée Beres Berna Berta Bolgero Bombul Brodel Caglas Caglor Calcar Calla Calmo Camed Cament Camuel Camula Caran Carazôn Carcel Carme Caros Castes Cates Catha Cator Celeg Celes Celle Celyne Celynea Celyë Cemeter Ceorn Cerea Clata Claud Claume Claur Claure Clotas Coelu Colas Coletor Comon Concal Concora Concorn Condela Consta Constan Constas Corum Cybello Daedalf Derna Deven Drastan Dylane Déago Ebona Ectho Ecthor Egaland Elander Elareth Elber Elendo Eleth Elfhel Elumer Emmanwë Eneldad Eorgel Eregorm Erenda Erylla Estans Estas Evert Eärenta Eärenus Eärené Eärenée Eärnus Faman Famanus Fannona Fanon Farahar Faunum Febrían Fenge Feronwë Ferra Ferula Florach Flore Forum Forus Franc Frandel Fëano Fëanon Gabalba Gaetas Galas Galda Galens Gantar Ganto Garwen Genel Geneta Gerent Gerette Gette Glander Glandre Glorach Glóred Golae Golane Gorba Gortona Gothéod Gratant Gratar Grato Hadoc Hadon Halba Haldog Haldor Halla Hallae Hanthor Helle Henator Henrva Heracum Hercel Hercus Herme Herucas Herum Herus Hestes Horon Jacque Jeanc Jeancan Jeanna Jessa Joanne Joceleg Jocetum Justes Justus Jutum Juven Juvenus Khamer Lactor Lagory Lalanta Laramna Laude Laume Laven Legund Leona Lette Lonna Lothéo Lucales Luent Lugduf Lugdus Léodwyn Madette Madoc Mador Maeda Magash Magast Magnès Magora Magund Mahtar Malanon Malas Malla Mallas Mamuel Mandrée Manos Mantona Manum Manus Mathel Matho Maura Meldë Menae Mendor Menette Mentas Menter Mohamen Mohamûl Monel Morges Mortune Mélan Nahael Narda Nathôn Necessa Nemes Neron Neros Nessor Nonum Océanel Océanes Olóred Orbag Ornen Ornovum Orodre Orona Orond Oronwë Ostanto Ostvera Palatar Palenwë Parcele Parcus Paulë Penae Perence Pereth Perette Pertus Perva Petella Peterre Phaesar Pollo Pollum Pompeda Porthur Portuna Portune Portus Porumor Posette Potent Quent Radanus Raphor Raymon Regon Regula Rence Robus Rogerme Rogeron Rogeros Rómence Sabeorl Sadoc Salmach Salmoth Sanck Sandel Sander Saradoc Sarus Satuta Secury Senoît Sephaël Sergel Sevent Shadoc Shagram Shelm Smaugus Smauhúr Sméagon Solas Solum Soros Sorsa Stred Stren Stéphan Summa Suzanna Taromë Taroth Tatan Teleb Tellane Telle Temnae Tempes Thena Thenrva Theodor Theophe Thorod Thoromë Thorond Thoros Thostor Thras Théod Tranc Trant Trebor Trebora Trenée Turna Turnus Vacum Vagna Vagnès Valad Valadûn Valas Valeth Vanne Vanny Vecthor Vector Venne Venua Verae Verna Verra Vertune Verula Verus Vette Volum Vorod Vulcar Vulturn Waldor Yandré Yanna Yanne Yanny Yavanus Yvonna Zenor Élodh Éomunda Éotha Éothéo Éverna Éverus

[dozydawn]

[mylife2mycave]

Televisione, radio, giornali e riviste Vi siete coalizzati per distruggere le menti Per farci diventare delle vostre conquiste Che vogliono benessere e vivon negli stenti

Ciò che dice la TV per tutti ormai è legge Eccolo il prodotto non te ne dovrai pentire Si alzi la tua testa In questo immenso gregge Fan subito vedere Italia-Brasile

Che bello è il lavaggio del cervello Che bello è il lavaggio del cervello

Voi credete forse di poterci manovrare Girare e rigirare come delle marionette La gente adesso è stufa, ci vuole ragionare Vuol capire il perchè di queste perette

Eccola la meta, ecco il vostro gioco: Spingere le masse nella vostra direzione Ciò che accade in strada è ancora troppo poco Ci siamo già stufati di questa situazione

Che bello è il lavaggio del cervello Che bello è il lavaggio del cervello

(Il lavaggio del cervello - Enrico Ruggeri)

[housedeaubemarle]

FFXIV Write 2024 #6: Halcyon

Quotations from this translation of Ovid's Metamorphosis 11.708 (Book 11, lines 708-748)

Notes: Follows after Tempest; cw: depression, death of a spouse

~~

Five turns ago:

`

Your faithful prayers did not avail, Halcyone, and I have perished. Give up all deluding hopes of my return. 

`

“Mamma…?”

Oudine’s soft voice trails off as she opens the doors to her mother’s dimly lit chambers. The unfortunate common sight of the Dowager sitting and staring into the fireplace without seeing stabs its usual ache into her chest.

The Dowager's hair has been combed and dressed by the hands of Nisette, and her dressing gown worn by the offices of the same lady. There’s a tray of food on a table next to her; it is barely touched. Some small consolation lies in a few marks of where a spoonful of this and a mouthful of that had been taken. They are testament to her lady's maid’s persistence and effort, while Oudine has been away, trying to portray normality outside their manor so people might be convinced to do business with her and her brother.

She walks forward, kneels before her mother, takes her cold hands between hers. Why is she cold when the fire burns? “Mamma, is that all you'll have? Is it not to your liking? Mr Ofanleitasyn can make something else, whatever you wish.”

The Dowager’s eyes don’t meet hers. They stare into the flames, lost.

“Will you not come sit with me in the drawing room? It could do with an airing. I can have fresh flowers brought in for you.”

No answer. There hasn’t been one for the past eight moons. The last she had spoken to anyone was at Viscount Vouloix's funeral. She had held herself together long enough for the mourners to give their respects, and offer condolences. Not long afterwards, the Dowager's soul began to disappear. The body breathed, but her mind did not return from where it had buried her husband.

A moon in, healers and chirurgeons had been called quietly. All had said it was no bodily ailment, but a broken heart. Priests had been asked – those who had forgiven the Dowager for her outburst anyway – and they had counselled and prayed and blessed.

And the Dowager’s silence continued.

`

“My heart would be more cruel than the waves, if it should ask me to endure this life— if I should struggle to survive such grief.”

`

Oudine swallows her sorrow, and frustration. She keeps her voice steady - her face is becoming more and more used to keeping a calm facade these days, even if her heart screams from within its ribcage.

“Aunt Perette and Aunt Symonne wish to see you. They bring news from your friends. They’re coming tomorrow.”

Her sisters-in-law have never given up visiting, trying to coax her back from wherever she has flown. Their husbands have come upon occasion, trying to see if someone new would rouse her. Even Valtin de Hellyes, the nephew who shares a mutual acrimony with her, had paid a visit, in some hopes that a sharp word might escape her.

And still the Dowager does not stir, nor speak.

She eats when she is instructed or cajoled, and she sleeps for more hours than she had ever done. When she is awake, she sits like this before her fire, just staring at nothing. It is all she would do. In some of Oudine's dreams, she walks into her mother's room and finds the Dowager still sitting there, frozen and stiff - like her father had been in his bed.

It makes Oudine squeeze the limp fingers in her hand, trying to imbue her with some warmth. 

“I implore you, Mamma… don’t. Don’t follow my father. Don’t leave us too. For love of us, stay.” Her voice cracks a little. “I could not bear it. I am trying, but if you go, I will not endure.”

She has said it before, says it as often as she can, doesn’t tire of repeating it. But the Dowager doesn’t reply. Doesn’t move. All she does is stare silently into the fire. 

What can Oudine do then, but kneel and hold her hand in the quiet stillness of the room? 

`

“Alas, Halcyone is no more! no more! with her own Ceyx she is dead! is dead! Away with words of comfort, he is lost" 

-

end.

[brimfire-and-hellstone]

Old Name: Perrine

Other Aliases: Queen of the North Sea (royal title), Islay Lister ( 1600s-1680), Enid (1691-1755), Ersilia Donati (1756-1810), Meryem Taskiran (1830-1930), Irene Géroux (1960-present)

Fandom: n/a

FC: Anna Shaffer

Age: 623 (physically early 30s)

D.O.B: 09 August, 1400

P.O.B: the North Sea

Current Location: Grimsby, England

Nationality: English

Languages spoken: French, English, Scots Gaelic, Welsh, Italian, Turkish, Greek, Arabic (Tunisian & Darija)

Relatives:

Mahault (mother +), Randel of Bristol (father +)

Romantic/Sexual orientation: Bisexual

Significant other(s): Uilleam Lister (husband +)

Marital Status: Single

Affiliation: Her kingdom (formerly)

Alignment: Neutral Evil/True Neutral

Identity: Public

Species: Mermaid

Abilities: shape-shifting (into mermaid form, includes: a purple tail, claws, gills along the side of the torso, sharpened teeth, fins on the form side of the fore arm), sharpened eyesight & sense of smell, increased reaction time

Skills: maintains various handwriting styles, knowledge of geography & oceanography

Occupation: Writer (former), photographer (former), wedding planner, writing editor

Religion: Polytheistic

Gender: Female

Pronoun(s): She/Her

Height: 5'8.75", 174.73cm

Eyes: dark brown/ dark blue with large irises ( in mermaid form)

Hair: black

Notable physical trait(s): long flat marks on the sides of her torso (her gills when she isn't transformed), misshapen scars from hooks and spears on her left hip, back, & right leg; long, round nails

Phobia(s): n/a

Mental Disease(s): Anxiety

Physical Disease(s): n/a

How/When was this diagnosed? Perrine is a denier and also fights to deal with her anxiety by herself

One positive trait: eloquent

One negative trait: critical

Hobbies: journaling, attending art classes (sculpting & drawing), tutoring primary & secondary school students in reading & writing

Miscellaneous: 

Perrine used to own 5 cats

Her favorite flowers are the Honeysuckle, the Hellebore, & the Bluebell

She wrote nine books within the years of 1790 and 1920; Perrine keeps them with her and has never thought to publish them or even ask anyone to read any of her books

Compared to her friends and many of the other mermaids in the kingdom, Perrine was an only child

During the period when she was known simply as Enid, Perrine rarely ever spoke to anyone besides the people she worked for

History: One of the worst terrors sailors encountered in the North Sea, nobody ever knew, nor cared to ask, why the merciless, calculating Queen of the North Sea terrorized the humans so much; no one ever lived long enough to ask, if the thought ever crossed their mind. However, the reason turned out to be simple: the loss of her outspoken mother, Mahault, who granted the humans the benefit of the doubt when it came to being capable of kindness and generosity-as Perette herself was born as a result of a human who loved Mahault so dearly, he left his family and built himself a home by the water. The fear of mermaids, ungodly as they were according to the humans-especially the royal family-drove a mob to hunt down Randel and use him as bait to capture Mahault.

Perette begged the Queen and King of the mermaids, her mother having served as the former's lady-in-waiting until she made her decision to leave. When even they wanted nothing more to do with the humans and claimed they didn't want to lose any of their citizens to save Mahault, the distraught Perette took matters into her own hands. Centuries passed, and the once awe-inspiring kingdom of the mermaids in the North Sea became littered with human bones; trophies, Perette claimed they were, as well as reminders that the humans were never to be trusted.

However, the vengeful mermaid's domain did not last long, as the humans had the ability to adapt with their tools and their reckless, selfish ambition. Slowly but surely, the mermaids' beautiful home started to die off, then they themselves followed suit. Billions became thousands, Perette was one of the hundreds spared, and even she finally gave in and sought out the land as her people did, despite that it meant having to look at the humans everywhere she went. While her new home was different, her habits from her time as a queen would never cease.