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daxieoclock · 1 year ago

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Hunters Masterpost 2: First Dungeon

(Refer to this post for a summary of the protagonists.)

This will be a summary of all major plot events during the Hunters campaign during the first dungeon: hunting the Celestial Behemoth.

The first few months of sessions had a lot of growing pains, including multiple player characters retconned out of "canon" so I'll be summarizing events with those retcons in mind. Without any further ado...

Chapter 1: Icarus

Our curtain rises on a quiet Friday in January at Belknap College. It's modern day (minus covid), inner state New York, and we find ourselves in the office of Belknap's dean of humanities: Erin Sakio. She's not here. She triple-booked herself with three students at the same time and didn't show up. In the meantime, those students make small talk and introduce themselves.

Blake Leto, silver tongued young celebrity, famous for being falsely accused of killing a police officer and currently on tenuous parole.

Lena Tarr, rough-talking rabblerouser with a visable limp and a penchant for lashing out at teachers and counselors alike.

Ilse Belanger, who comfortably blends into a crowd. They might qualify for valedictorian if people remembered their name.

Awkward small talk is interrupted by a parcel dropping from the ceiling onto Miss Sakio's desk. A paper wrapped object and a very living bluebird, apparently a robin. Curioisity wins over shock, and the trio unwraps the package, finding a letter addressed to Sakio and an ornate dark key.

–ensuring that your standard issue equipment is accounted for, please insert the enclosed Tindalos Key into the nearest corner. You may count yourself lucky to be among our ranks, but please know we consider you and each of your peers to be your own unique blessing. The duty you perform is beyond vital, and your success ensures that your home, your Earth, will survive. The World Must Turn On. Signed, V.P. of the Daedalus Collective.

Blake jokingly calls the bird "Icarus," a name that sticks like glue. Ilse, fiddling with the key, tries to follow the letter's instructions. After touching it to a corner of the room, the key vanishes and the walls peel open, revealing an impossible purple hallway. A gate into another world. Curiosity wins out again, and the trio head inside.

Blake, Ilse and Lena find themselves in an enormous junkyard underneath a violet sky. While they're taking in the sights, they find themselves face to face with another person, a confused looking Camellia Pavel, college dropout, who was personally delivered their own key and letter and stumbled into this world...about a half hour ago.

While Camellia gratefully chows down on a snack Lena happened to bring, Blake and Ilse take inventory of their surroundings. Blake in particular finds a small purple book, a childhood journal they lost years ago, with everything within still as it once was. As they question that impossibility, the four hear a new voice.

The boy’s impish grin widened into a crocodile smile. “My name is Puck, and this,” he gestured to the junkyard around him, “is the Spiral of Forfeit.” He kicked his heels against the backrest of the chair. “It is where lost things are found, where the abandoned flock, where the discarded may be granted a second chance at life. It is also, as you have correctly identified, my home.”

Puck warns the four of nearby "scavengers," and suggests they arm themselves before vanishing as abruptly as he appeared. Sure enough, a swarm of monsters appear: floating Jack-o-Lantern creatures made of scrap metal, shrieking accusations of thievery. Our newfound party grabs improvised weapons from the junk around them and begins to fight.

While they hold their own as well as they can, the monsters and their fire magic is too much, and the party falters. Blake, however, stares down at their journal as light erupts from their left wrist. Silver text etching itself across childhood pages, a voice without tongue.

“Fuck it… no more. I hear you.” Eyes opening again to a determined stare. “Artemis!”

An ethereal maiden, eyes closed and expression drenched in serenity, a moonlit beauty, both her long hair and that gorgeous bow in her hands braided with the same five-petal white flowers. She reached up, elegantly pulling an arrow – wood woven into a beautiful spiral with a silver arrowhead – from the quiver on her back and nocking it.

Blake brushed a stray hair out of their face and locked their gaze at Camellia. A little smirk graced their lips, and their focus turned towards the scrambling scrap-metal monsters. “If I’m to be the Killer Prince, I might as well play the part. Come then, my other self.” And they snapped their journal closed, bright light spilling forth from some glowing sigil across their wrist. “Let us hunt.”

Artemis's first attack scatters the Pyro Junks, and rallies Blake's new allies. And, it seems, causes a chain reaction. Three more glowing sigils etch themselves in flesh. Three more names leap to lips. Three more Personas make their appearance.

Lena tenses every muscle in her body, then goes almost totally limp. "Well, I'm sure not gonna let myself get pushed around by these fuckers." When she lifts her head, her grin is manic and hungry. "Goliath!"

And a brand forms there. A stone, broken in half. And the giant stands by your side, this monstrous ethereal brute, clad in engorged armor. On his shoulder, a knight, sitting as if to direct the violence. Goliath laughs again, and you can all hear the war drums in his voice.

Ilse looks up to from where they hear the voice. Their call is more of a whisper. "Clotho"

And the string is pulled taught. You know where it leads. There is pain, sharp and intense, and it fades in an instant. A brand resembling a pair of scissors, a few inches below your throat. And a newfound strength in your lungs.

Running would be so easy… wouldn't it? … No. They had more pride than that. Camellia clenched the front of their sweater with their free hand and looked to the sky, eyes twinkling as if full of stars. "Hecate."

Everyone, you feel the bells. Echoing in your ears, ringing to and fro. Hecate rears up beside you, a woman's form wrapped in violet dress, but with four canine legs, and three white-fur wolf heads sprouting from her neck. A staff in one hand, a gem at its tip shining with otherworldly energy.

The four new Persona-wielders make quick work of the swarm and head back towards the gate they came through, only to be stopped by a more fearsome beastie: a lumbering Junk Frost.

While the party holds their own, the final blow is not theirs.

"Chorus!" There is a glimmer of light, and a sudden hum. Not a buzzing but a resonance, a dozen voices in harmony. White robed figures, in masks, floating around the Junk Frost. Singing. They raise their hands in unison, and a bolt of light descends from on high. It strikes the top of the Frost's head and pierces it cleanly, smashing into the earth with a loud crash. Those figures, that Chorus, fade. And the Junk Frost just sort of teeters there for a moment before falling back completely.

As the defeated Junk Frost lets off smoke, you can see someone standing behind the felled monster. A figure in the smoke. You can't make them out at first, but then as some nonexistent wind blows away the smoke, and you can see them clearly.

It's a woman, with reddish-brown hair tied into a tight bun. She's wearing something resembling a knight's armor, but it's made of white cloth, light but effective-looking. A cape-like cloth is draped over her right arm. In her left, she carries a rapier, which seems to shimmer in this odd light. And she is staring at you, with blue eyes wide and her jaw hanging open. You know this woman. You know her very well. But you don't quite remember her every having a tattoo – you think you might recall something as audacious as a musical note tattooed on her throat. And you definitely wouldn't have expected to see her here.

And Miss Sakio, dean of humanities, splutters out "what the absolute fuck."

Chapter 2: The World Turns On

Miss Sakio leads the party back through the gate into her office, her ostentatious outfit vanishing as she steps back into reality, replaced with the simple sharp suit she usually wears. Even though she, Camellia, Blake, Ilse and Lena are all exhausted, the five still field a long conversation, with the party catching Sakio up on what they just went through, and Sakio herself pulling back the curtain on the hidden world they've stumbled into.

The junkyard is the Spiral of Forfeit, one of many areas within a world known as Fractals, a dark mirror of our world. The monsters the party faced are variant species of Shadow, birthed from collective fear and imagination.

Shadows tend to obey even stronger creatures, the Behemoths, which act as deities. Before they're even fully born, a Behemoth's personality and whims shape the area they call home, and Shadows in that area will align themselves with this "aesthetic," as servants to their g-d.

Behemoths are not always malicious, but they have an insatiable hunger. Even the kinder ones will eat until they grow large enough to emerge into our world, shattering the barrier between Fractals and reality, ending the world as we know it.

The Daedalus Collective is an organization that funds teams of Persona users, giving them Tindilos keys to access Fractals and assigning them to scout areas or hunt Behemoths, culling them before they can grow large enough to threaten our world.

Erin Sakio, dean of humanities at Belknap College, moonlights as a Shadow Hunter for Daedalus. She's been assigned to find the currently-unborn Behemoth that rules over the Spiral, and kill it. Her Persona is Chorus (and her Arcana is Temperance).

Personas are powerful weapons born from oaths of self-actualization. If a human in Fractals swears this oath, their true inner self will manifest under that human's control, etching a "Brand" onto their skin as proof of their bond. Each Brand is distinct, and only other Persona users can see them.

Now that the party all has their own Brands, someone from Daedalus will eventually notice and scout them. To get out ahead of it, Sakio (who distrust the organization she works for) asks the party to join Daedalus as her teammates.

After some time to think, the party agrees, and are whisked off the next day to an unmarked white office building a few miles from the college, which they can now see ethereal blue lettering on, marking it as Daedalus's HQ. Miss Sakio takes them inside to meet with Amil Fischer, her assigned "Liaison"...and ex girlfriend.

Amil used to be Sakio's teammate, but an injury on the job exacerbated his existing physical disability, leaving them reliant on Daedalus's extremely generous employment benefits. Now they act as a Liaison, ferrying orders to various teams of Shadow-Hunters, and reporting their successes and failures to the hidden higher-ups. An anonymous meritocracy is maintained.

Blake, Ilse, Lena and Camellia work through their remaining concerns and agree to work for Daedalus. Blake, impromptu leader, names the team "the Hunters;" and they are given their first mission:

Travel to the spire within the Spiral of Forfeit, climb it and slay the Celestial Behemoth at its peak.

The next few days pass in a blur as the Hunters prepare in their own ways.

Lena meets up with "Twitch" Blum, a classmate and acquaintance with a campus reputation for his public displays of anxiousness and general jumpiness. Him and Lena hit it off pretty well, but it's still an awkward affair.

Blake has an unexpectedly tense back and forth with their RA, Masumi Saito, well-kept head of the student body and "sharpest motherfucker alive" award four years running. Rumor has it she keeps a gun in her dorm and gets away with it. She also has some manner of history with "Saint Sakio," and treats Blake with cold suspicion for their newfound affiliation. The two exchange veiled barbs and then part ways.

(Masumi, though an NPC, is the creation of @lilyhoshikawa who also plays Blake, and permitted me to use Masumi for this campaign)

Ilse visits Lena (and Lena's longtime friend and roommate Rita) and the two make clear their mutual distrust of Daedalus's shady bullshit, with Lena in particular suggesting that saving Behemoths might be an option, though neither knows how to go about it yet. When Ilse returns to their room, they ponder over an old damaged angel figurine, a knickknack from their childhood friend Stephen. They remember how alone they felt when they left him. They don't feel quite as alone anymore.

Blake sees a patch of flowers near campus and remembers the field of wild sunflowers next to their home, the one they'd sneak out to when their parents would fight. They wonder if it's still there, like the journal is. Lost. To be found again.

Lena heads to the student store to spend her first paycheck from Daedalus, and gets immediately distracted helping out the two deeply bisexual work-study employees: Bee and Theo. Bee is a neurotic control freak and Theo is a former surfer dude, and the two are fucking inseparable, the best of friends. Lena offers to help them find some stolen store product (initiating a detour sidequest with Ilse I won't cover in full) and fun banter is exchanged.

Camellia's rent anxieties drive them to stop by Amil, awkwardly asking about bonus opportunities. Maybe even solo work? Amil gently pushes them to stick to working with their team, and promises to advocate for early assignment pay if things go pear-shaped in Fractals. They've got Camellia's back, same as the rest of the Hunters.

Chapter 3: The First Hunt

The Hunters assemble in a small break room in one of Belknap's buildings. Sakio used it when she and Amil were on a team together: the Hound Table. It's a windowless room with a single round table, a bunch of chairs, and a plastic potted plant. Still, pomp and circumstance and legacy. Sakio produces a Tindilos Key (rationed to her by Daedalus), opens the Gate into Fractals, and the party heads inside.

And immediately gets seperated, with Sakio landing at the base of the Spire, while the rest of the Hunters are plopped back in Puck's "living room" for another round of Q&A with the fae boy – and a chance to show off the new Fractals-only combat outfits given to them by Daedalus. After reaffirming that he's on the Hunters' side, Puck magically opens the way forward, giving them a clear shot to the Spiral Spire, home of the Celestial Behemoth, where Sakio meets back up with them.

As they all travel inside, Artemis starts feeding Blake environmental information through text in their journal, her navigational skills making themselves apparent. The Hunters go floor by floor of this tower of junk, fighting a number of minor Shadows, each made of discarded scrap. It takes them a couple days of expedition, using an in-built dumbwaiter as shortcut, and taking multiple days of break in between to not burn out.

During one of these breaks, Camellia asks Sakio to come with them on what they present as an impromptu walk in one of Belknap's graveyards. Camellia spends the whole walk cracking wise, to the point where Sakio clearly starts to suspect they're forcing it, when they reach a particularly well maintained grave. "Frey," with the last name carefully scratched out so no trace of it remains.

Camellia's mask slips as they place a metal flower on the grave. This was a friend of theirs. This was their best friend. Sakio silently takes that in, and reaches into her pocket to pull out a small scuffed metal pin with an etching of a rose on it. She places it down on Frey's grave and thanks them for the chance to meet.

Meanwhile, Lena delivers a handmade flowerpot to Amil, Ilse and Twitch visit a nearby museum together, and Blake visits their favorite place: a cat cafe named Le Petit Prince with the very old and very friendly calico Herbert.

Finally, the Hunters return to Fractals and storm through the remaining floors of the Spire. However, on their way back, they end up running into a classmate fighting for their life against a powerful Shadow. They recognize them: Sammy Cabra, college freshman and general Silly Fellow (gender neutral). Sammy found the blue robin Icarus in reality and was guided to and through the gate, where they found themselves in Fractals and awakened to their persona: Neko Shogun The Hunters help rescue Sammy, and after a quick debate, agree to have them become part of the team. Sakio takes Sammy to get registered with Daedalus, and the rest of the Hunters crash, resting up for the Behemoth fight.

Chapter 4: Red Bloom

After a few days of rest, recuperation and bond-building with their new teammate, the Hunters return to Fractals. Sakio, Blake, Ilse, Lena, Camellia and Sammy use the dumbwaiter to ascend the Spire, stepping out into the tenth floor vestibule, beyond which the birthing Behemoth waits in his chamber.

There is someone in their way. Someone who radiates fury and strength. Someone who may not be exactly human.

The moment she sees the woman, Sakio lets out a sound like she's been stabbed, eyes wide and fearful. She stands motionless at the top of the stairs, frozen. Almost shaking.

The woman gazes to the side, through those cracks in the metal of the tower walls. Has the breeze picked up? Or had it always been nearly howling, quiet, like the distant sound of snarling wolves. "My father called me his little primrose, once. I would say that's the best of the names he called me." If her tone was calm before, this is anger. Fire boiling beneath every word. "But flowery language doesn't suit this place. Ugly, and garish." She looks back at you, almost through you, like you're made of paper. "You may refer to me as Prim. Or, if you like, you need not refer to me at all."

[Full dialogue for this scene is available here for those interested.]

Prim verbally dresses down the Hunters one by one, making clear she doesn't want to stop them from killing the Behemoth. She just wants to see if they're worthy of Puck's attention, of being his crusaders. This is a test. And every word is a failure.

Sakio, furthermore, clearly has a history with this woman, a history that fills her with dread. She doesn't take a step.

But Blake does.

They tuck their book under one arm, right hand reaching over and gripping their left wrist tightly. “To answer your question. I do intend to take full responsibility for my teammates here. And if you’re intent on interfering, I ask that you…” they flinch, muttering a curse under their breath. “I ask that you go through me first.”

While Prim isn't phased by this display, Blake's courage does soften her approach somewhat, giving the remaining Hunters a chance to freely advocate for their worth. When Lena openly mocks Prim's sharpness, Prim lists off three names: Vladamir, Amelie, Roland. Three of Daedalus's that she's killed. Three of Daedalus's that Sakio watched her kill.

When she turns her attention to Camellia, Prim finds an odd ethereal resistance, like the air itself wants her to leave them alone.

"How curious. And here I thought he didn’t pick favorites.”

After one last bout of open disdain, Prim manifests a shadowy flicker, like a Persona bathed in dark, and uses it to punch a hole in the vestibule wall, vanishing through it.

The Hunters explode in argument, all ire turned towards Sakio and her festering secrets, but she pleads with them to wait. She'll answer their questions, she promises, but they need to kill the Behemoth still. Begrudgingly, the party makes their way into the room beyond the vestibule and prepare for battle.

The world uncurls. Almost as if it's resisting the motion, pulling back into a form by strength of will alone. You finally see the thing before you, the so-called Celestial Behemoth, in all its horrid glory. His skin is grey and stretched, like a bodysuit pulled too tight, and it's covered in green lines and odd indentations like inconsistent scales. His hands are outstretched, fingers long as his palm. And his wide mouth is full of sharp teeth, and a long black tongue that lolls out the side. Bulging eyes spinning in a reptilian skull. Those eyes focus. First up, towards the sky. Then down, towards you. And he screams. A roar that could spit the heavens.

Blake, your journal snaps open. Shuddering with fear and hunger, Artemis writing not in silver but in crimson ink as dark as blood.

The Celestial Behemoth Star Arcana J A B B E R W O C K

[Full fight and extra art is available here for those interested]

The Jabberwock is a more powerful opponent than any they've faced before, protected by a divine veil and habitually charging up devastating attacks behind an anti-magic barrier. The Hunters are caught off-guard by one of these attacks, explosions rocking the room. Camellia uses their last Salvation to protect Ilse. But Sammy, just out of their reach, is knocked unconscious.

Sakio, in a panicked rush, crushes a golden bead – a late-game revival item – and sprinkles the dust over Sammy, who gasps back to lucidity. Still injured, but conscious again. When the Hunters recover from the shock of seeing their teammate collapse, they turn back to the Jabberwock with vengeance in their eyes and hearts. Sakio stops holding back, and empowers her students with an enhanced version of her Rebel Will skill.

The Counterstrike begins.

The Hunters unload damage on the Jabberwock, bringing it to its knees for Sakio to deliver the coup de gras, sending the reptilian Celestial through the floor of the arena, crashing down through layer after layer of its Spire. It does not rise again.

Part 1 Epilogue: Red Wilt

The Hunters return to the Hound Table, spent beyond belief. Once again, they turn to Sakio, waiting for her. The truth, as promised.

"After I left my first BaSH team – after Amil was injured – I joined a Daedalus operation requiring a large number of Persona-users, to slay multiple Behemoths which had cohabitated together and grown as one." She purses her lips. "The Director oversaw that operation firsthand. And, once it had been completed, that was when she struck." Her tone tense, eyes distant. "She injured multiple Daedalus operatives in a mad gambit to murder the Director. Two of the Director's personal aids were..." Sakio trails off. "From the reports afterwards, all I was told is she is likely some manner of rogue Persona-user who has decided to ally herself with the Behemoths, for whatever reason." And she looks at Blake. "That is all I know."

It's not the full truth. But it's not a lie either. The party leaves, exhausted, frustrated. Victorious and unsatisfied.

Blake, Lena, Ilse, Camellia and Sammy wake to the sound of a robin's song and the corner of their rooms peeling open. A gate not violet, but a steady velvet blue. Through it, they find themselves back in Fractals, in Puck's junkyard abode. The Spire collapsed, but the Spiral remains.

Puck greets the party warmly, congratulating them both on slaying their first Behemoth and being lucky enough to be visited by Prim – a joy he hasn't shared for months now. The two clearly have history, but Prim has resigned herself to solitude, and her visits have become more and more frequent. And, he won't tell the party what her "deal" is. Secrets better kept than confessed.

However, he does expand the limits of his services. Through his permission, the Hunters (Sakio excluded) may freely travel into Fractals to visit him without the use of a Tindilos key. He'll also keep a stock of valuable items, purchasable with simple and generous barter (a little snack here or there). And...should they wish to speak Prim again for whatever reason (Lena and Blake seem especially interested)...he'll find a way to let them.

The curtain closes on a little fae boy's impish smile, and the distant grumbling of a red-eyed murderer.

TO BE CONTINUED...

#the hunters #blake leto #ilse belanger #sammy cabra #lena tarr #camellia pavel #erin sakio #amil fischer #masumi saito #lucy twitch blum #puck #prim

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lilithfilm · 2 years ago

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Film Review: ATHENA

I recall my first trip to Paris as an adult. I went by myself, determined to make it for one week on a budget of 100 euros. I'd managed the feat, but for the purpose of this review I recall one specific memory, which was my train ride in from DeGaulle into the 1st arrondissement. From my childhood I'd recalled the over-the-top beauty and refinement of Paris, but as an adult I saw the real Paris on that ride, the suburbs of the city made up of its various banlieu, the endless housing projects for those who could only dream of affording a hundred square feet in the heart of the city. As the train stopped at the various stations in the suburbs, the residents who hopped on and off were the furthest thing from what we in America popularly identified as being "French." There were no Paul Belmondo, Alain Delon, Anna Karina or Jean Seberg types, no chic clothes, loose cigarettes dangling or berets. This population was distinctively African and Arab of all shapes and sizes, old and young. Again, by virtue of cinema and my favorite film of all time, LA HAINE, I'd had some idea of these communities, but it was through the sheltered distance of a movie screen. To be in the thick of these communities of immigrants, colonial castoffs and refugees is to be immersed in a vibrant, profoundly intimidating energy and flow, a balance of survival and freedom from situations that could have been assumed to have been far worse. The banlieu were covered in graffiti, peppered with cornershops and connected by public works, and there was a sense of global chaos, of disparate people from all over the world trying to scratch out an existence in a country that couldn't be more different than their motherlands. I found it invigorating, scary and comforting, as they reminded me of so many of the young immigrant families that I grew up with, my own included.

It's these memories I carried into my viewing of ATHENA, puzzlingly categorized on Netflix as an "action thriller from France." Directed by music video enfant terrible Romain Gavras (son of legendary Greek filmmaker and rabblerouser Costa Gavras), ATHENA is a powderkeg of a movie that takes place over a single day in a banlieu of the same name. All is not well - in a scenario becoming all too familiar, a young Arab boy is killed by the police, and unrest is brewing in the central blocks of Athena as its residents are growing tired of the institutionalized violence against them. The felled boy has three brothers: Abdel, a French-Algerian soldier who pleas with his community to protest peacefully. There is Karim, the younger brother who despite Abdel's requests leads a violent insurrection against the police, demanding that the identities of his brother's killers be made public, and lastly there is eldest brother Moktar, a low-level drug dealer whose only interests are the preservation of his business and trade.

The film - shot in a series of about a dozen breathtaking single takes - weaves in and out of the banlieu as the brothers straddle between anarchy and civility. A cast of hundreds and hundreds scramble through the labyrinthine housing project seeking refuge from the onslaught of the French police cracking down on Karim's army. As this is France, there are little to no firearms, and the residents of Athena repel the police with firecrackers, household items and appliances thrown from rooftops, and molotov cocktails. As the war endures, Karim shifts his strategy to capture a single police officer, a young rookie by the name of Jerome. This strategy pushes Abdel to the breaking point, as his allegiance to his family, his community and his country as a soldier are tested.

First and foremost, ATHENA is not an action film in the American sense. There is plenty of heart-pounding action, but none of it - zero - is done for an adrenaline rush or amusement. This action is far too relatable and real - it's like being submerged in the countless riots that come in the aftermath of police shootings - and the uncut, fluid single shots put you headfirst into real time. There isn't any time to breathe in this film, and that's completely intentional. You're in the shit with these characters, and it's impossible to not connect with their struggles and conflicts. While one might argue the characters are somewhat one-note, there needs to be a reminder that the events of this film take place over one night, and so what we know of them is the same as we would in the chaos of that moment. Even with that, I felt there was enough development to generate genuine pathos, because we've all met these type of real people in our lives.

That said, the film carries with it a beautiful sense of surrealism, each frame a violent painting of concrete, smoke, flesh and fire. It plays out like a Greek tragedy of warriors and peasants, brothers and enemies, all against a backdrop of warfare so compellingly strange that it feels almost alien. The technical execution of ATHENA is an absolute marvel, and it contains zero CGI. Because of that I'd place it above AVATAR 2 in terms of its technical grandiose and ambition, and it is executed flawlessly. The cinematography (shot in IMAX), the haunting score, the choreography and the performances are all first rate. If we're willing to give James Cameron a billion dollar reward for his technical ambitions, then I think Romain Gavras and his crew deserve two billion. It really is that jaw-dropping of an achievement, and I don't think we'll see anything like it for quite some time. The only thing keeping this film from being an outright masterpiece is the inclusion of a harbored terrorist, a plot device that feels forced and completely unnecessary, whose existence in the film is solely to facilitate the literal explosive climax. Handled with more nuance it would have worked, but the third act renders the character to a horrible and unnecessary cliche. But because it is so unnecessary to the plot it doesn't pull anything away from the film's brutal and profound impact, especially with the incredibly unsettling twist ending. A minor quip in an otherwise powerhouse of a film that has divided film critics straight down the middle, some calling it an essential commentary on our times and others saying it is a blueprint for anarchists seeking to burn society to the ground with their unresolved rage. I agree with the former - ATHENA is a punch in the face, a commentary on anger, barbarism, civility and communal love. It is a tragedy on an epic scale, and it left me breathless. I give it a strong 8.75 out of 10, and 10 out of 10 for its technical audacity. A staggering achievement, and my only regret is not being able to see it on a big screen in the theater; the compression of streaming brutally strips the imagery of its nuance and power. It must be a magnificent experience projected in a theater with pro sound, especially this stunning one-shot sequence, one of the best I’ve ever seen. Ever. Wow.

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#lilithfilm #film #review #good to be back #athena

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rametarin · 2 years ago

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This compliments a theory I have. I call it, ‘Farm League Theory.’

Social disruptors and antagonists like your average black and red waving “anarchist” have tiers, based on how big a danger they are to themselves or how intelligent and how well they can take direction and stay subordinate. Your average emotionally driven but otherwise smart college kid is easily subverted with something as simple as Marxist doctrine and imagery and the opportunity to hang with seemingly other intelligent emotionally driven peers.

They can be rallied and corralled along with what “society” wants and play along like good little sheep, thinking it’s a consensus decision that “they all came to together” (but was actually planned by nebulous individuals pretending not to be leaders, but with enough emotional intelligence and obfuscated command structure so as to subtly lead while pretending to be followers)

PETA types are the slow boys and girls and other that cannot really take dictation, cannot really ‘get with the flow’ because they’re incongruent and ineffectual, and while they share many of the same emotional defects that make them followers that think they’re leaders, they cannot reason how to be a useful idiot. They are, effectively, a bigger danger to any cause that involves lobbing molotovs and crooning about “social change” than they are a help. They’re the liability the image of Christian megachurches have when secular and ideologically driven news crews go and interview the most obstinate, vulgar and obnoxious example of a Fox News watcher in the American Southern States as a representative of their whole community.

PETA and similar “animal rights and welfare” organizations that advocate for the abolition of eating meat and the legal abolition of the right to farm animals for food, are the rejects that they couldn’t find a polite way of saying, “you’re stupid, you’re worthless, you’re an embarrassment to our cause and you’re too volatile and too big a liability to have operating in our group of subversives.”

So they change the wording of the doctrine a bit and have them go rabblerouse over something that they can then say isn’t connected to radical leftwing stuff at all, it’s just crazy. It’s diet radical leftism that they can then go, “Those are eco-fascists, not good socialists. Those guys are more right-wing than what we’re doing.”

When no they’re the same fucking thing they just emphasize different causes. PETA is where the idiots too stupid to lob molotov cocktails against police in the name of BLM were attracted and groomed to go to play out their fantasies of being a radical revolutionary and still be a disruptive influence and source of chaos, without endangering any of the other causes.

I love leather and I love fur and I don’t mind arguing about it.

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deerydear · 11 months ago

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I reread that list of "autism signs":

I have been told that when I was a little baby kid, I wanted nothing to do with one of my caregivers. She seemed to hold a grudge about this, so it stuck in my mind as "something that I've been criticized for."

...but I contest the idea that this was "innate" or "genetically caused, therefore inevitable in my lifetime"

This quote makes me laugh. Imagine the roles are reversed:

I think that my actions were informed by the complexity of life... and a thousand-million-billion things moving all around, all the time. It wouldn't be "just one cause". It would be many, many things.

It takes a lot of drops of water to fill a lake-bed.

"Autism", to me, seems like an appealing hypothesis, as a self-diagnosis, because it locates the issue within oneself. I was often a rabblerouser. I wasn't ashamed of causing a problem over injustice, although at the same time I shied away from the image of "justice-seeker". Some people called me a devil.

I think back on Jesus.

Luke 2:41

There is another story:

In a culture, when children are weaned, they leave their parents' house. They are supposed to form a spiritual bond with another member of the village, and they go live with their 'spirit parent'. Sometimes, the soul-bond is made with the child's blood-parents. This is rare, but seen as a good omen.

If the child forms no soul-bond, then no one else in the village will speak to them. They do not look at outcast children. They are left to fend for themselves.

Children like this, who manage to survive to be twelve years of age are taken into the wizard's house, to be taught magic. "because the world wants them to be alive", is what he says when he is asked.

I think about this story sometimes. It is told in detail in the Tropic of Night.

I just shared the story of the boy who became L...

I remember someone else commenting: "oh my goodness, he doesn't know what a hug is! He's never been hugged!"

I've been the same way... but my mother always mournfully said: "I tried to love you, but you wanted nothing to do with me! You told me to stop singing to you! 'Don't hug me!'"

I think this would make nearly any mother upset.

As I have grown older, I've seen how this desperate seperation has also left me deficit. I ran away from warmth, but I needed warmth. I wanted a mother as much as I rejected her.

I've also been pregnant. It changes the way that you think. The hormones and instincts literally change you. So I understand motherhood a lot more now. I don't begrudge my own mother so much, anymore. Life changes the liver. As you go down the road, you will see what is around you.

I read 1984. The children are turned against their own parents, with promise of brotherhood in the political Party, the society that surrounds them.

"What can my mother give me, that all these other people won't?"

From the book:

See, it isn't just one thing. There are motives, mysteries to be unraveled. History didn't begin 30 years ago.

The Council of Pecans:

Science... science... how far behind are our tools? What have we "proven", and what is the truth?

Does a human create the truth?

"See, I am like this because I am strange. There is something solely in me that makes me different. If I were able to adapt to the society around me, then I would feel no dissonance. I would be happy.

It isn't that there is something pervasively wrong with the attitudes of other people.... no."

youtube

Although, at the same time, a lot of autism self-advocacy does not seem to be of the tune that I just described. It is different.

I suppose I was describing the internal dilemma of the self-diagnoser who is simply reading about disorders, comparing the branches of her own life.

Luke 23:

#Youtube

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mercy-misrule · 3 years ago

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locked the cats out of the kitchen

housemates found them staging a sit in protest in front of my room

ya boi is there pressing his entire body against my bedroom door. letting me know his opinions re cat going into kitchen rights

Xena is here to rabblerouse

#large child #ancient son

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mean-scarlet-deceiver · 4 years ago

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Gordon headcanon ask (2/4)

B. while it may not be realistic it is hilarious: Actually, fairly realistic.

Not, I admit, super hilarious (if I had ever developed my art skills I feel like I could do this justice and Gordon’s deer-in-the-highlights embarrassment would be funny… but all I’ve got are words):

Sometime between Percy’s arrival and Henry’s rebuild, as Gordon’s class is rising in fame and stature (1933-ish?), Gordon and FC1 go on a visit to the L.N.E.R., with Gordon as guest at a special hype event for the Gresley Pacifics, the vast majority of whom he’s never met or seen, as they were made long after he left for Sodor.

On some level Gordon has struggled ever since being sent to the N.W.R. with the (subconscious, denied, resisted) idea that he’s sort of… sunk below his station, and is already out of the game (FC1 certainly won’t let them participate in any Great Race nonsense!)

He goes on this visit secretly anxious (so secretly that he himself doesn’t even realize it, if you know what I mean) that he’ll be cold-shouldered (cold-boilered?) and humiliated among the rest.

As a matter of fact, the class reunion goes down splendidly. By and large, Gordon is hailed warmly by his younger brothers, who have always been curious about their doyen, and who are inclined to be very respectful (they have proper ideas of seniority and order!) Pretty much everyone gets along, and indeed Gordon’s career on a bit of a “scrappier” and poorer railway only tends to impress them; their eldest brother is tough. Sort of a cowboy, even? (Also, what Gordon hadn’t fully grokked before was that, if not sent to the N.W.R., then like most prototypes that aren’t accepted into regular service he was to have been scrapped. The A1/3s are generally proud—of this, as they are of a thousand other things—that their class is a rare exception, with their prototype first brother still on the rails.)

Probably the only real hiccup during the entire lovely visit is when politics get discussed. Most engines could care less about politics, but then the Gresley Pacifics aren’t “most engines,” now are they?

And, of course, they’re all Tories. (Naturally, dear boy.)

Anyway, someone makes a disparaging comment, to Gordon, about how, after all, strikers are just shirkers, rabblerousers, and probably Red agents... or the foolish dupes of the same.

Poor Gordon. He is unusually politically conscious himself! And, for that matter, has quite a few Toryean instincts of his own. But, of course, he’s not into ideology or parties at all. He’s too much an original for that; he builds off what he sees, and interprets it all for himself. And… on this topic… ummm. Yeah. Awkward.

His usual independence and magnificent confidence just… loses all air, and he collapses completely under the weight of impostor syndrome, as the other engine sniffs on:

How irresponsible some humans can be!

Not even the dirtiest, commonest little engine on the rails could ever dream of causing such Confusion and Delay! Can you even imagine?

Gordon: *blushing* … right. erm. as you say. And, in what is not an utterly transparent attempt to change the subject, SAY IS THAT AN AEROPLANE?

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Other Lengthy Character Headcanon Asked-and-Answered Here: Thomas * Annie & Clarabel (but really even more Thomas tbh) * Henry * Gordon (4 parts) * James * Skarloey * Rheneas *

#ttte #ttte gordon #the railway series #ttte headcanon #chatter #gordon: 4 headcanon ask

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miss-tc-nova · 4 years ago

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Holiday Strides - Bragi x Reader

Part of the Smarmy Nonsense series I’ve got going on as an early chapter. I know it’s super late but I started on Christmas Eve and life’s been nuts since then so...enjoy some late, mild-holiday stuff.

~~~~~

“Merry Crisis!” announces the boy in white.

Myself, Urd, Vor, Baldr, and Hermod all look to the two rabblerousers that had burst into my studio.

“It’s Merry Christmas,” Hermod corrects.

Xehanort struts in as he retorts, “Have you seen our lives? It’s definitely a crisis.”

From beside me, Urd deadpans, “He’s right.”

“Anyway,” I interject, very distinctly aware of the people in my home. “You two are late.”

“You can blame Fluffcoat for that one.” Xehanort displays a gift that reads ‘From Bragi’ before dropping it beneath the mini-Christmas tree with the others. “Jerk didn’t tell us he wasn’t coming.”

All eyes turn on me, but this is news to me as well.

For the last few months, Bragi has been kind of scarce. He’s skipped several classes, but when he shows up, he’s entirely exhausted and still grinding his nose against his books. Even when we get a few minutes together, he’s watching the clock and trying to multitask. I tried several times, with some of my best tricks, to get him to relax or at least tell me what’s going on—he refused. My only hope to get some time with him was Christmas; everyone had made plans to come to my home for dinner and a gift exchange and Bragi had agreed to it. So to hear that he’s not coming is heartbreaking.

“He’s…not coming?” I murmur.

“Um, he left this in front of his door on the present,” Eraqus says, pulling a paper from his pocket.

It’s a note, addressed to Xehanort and Eraqus, saying he can’t make it tonight and to apologize for him. The last time I saw him was three days ago when he promised me he’d be here. The paper crinkles in my fist but I force a smile.

“Oh well. Nothing we can do about it now,” I say. Beneath their stares, I can’t assure I can remain composed, so I stand and wander to the kitchen. “Shame too—I made his favorite ribs.”

“Ribs? That doesn’t sound like a Christmas food.” A short yelp escapes Eraqus after his statement, no doubt from some retaliation by one of the others.

Things move along according to plan, without Bragi. I force the disappointment to the back of my brain and try to be a proper, peppy host, but the others being extra nice tells me that I’m no expert at hiding it.

Secret Santa gifts swap hands before dinner is ready. As everyone is chattering and serving themselves, I can hear Urd and Xehanort.

“It’s messed up that Bragi’s not here,” Urd grumbles. Obviously, they’re trying to keep the conversation between themselves, but I’m probably a little closer than they thought.

Xehanort examines the potatoes. “No kidding. Whatever it is he’s doing must be pretty important.”

“Important or not, we’re spending Christmas with his significant other, at their house, and his dumbass isn’t here.” It’s nice to know that these emotions are justified.

“Sure but—” Silver eyes spot me observing them but Urd does not.

“No buts. Not only is it rude, but they didn’t even know he—”

A forceful elbow against her arm shuts her up and Xehanort smiles at me. “Hey, what kind of bird is this?” There’s a gesture to the plate in front of him.

My smile is just as improvised as his. “It’s roast turkey. And there’s a lot there so eat up.”

“Alright.” There’s some false enthusiasm as he scoops it onto his plate.

With seven of us being fed, the garbage bin fills quickly. Baldr and Eraqus both offer to take it out for me but, despite my solid attempt at composure, some fresh air could be beneficial right now.

At the bottom of the steps, I let out a long breath. In the silence, by myself, my fortitude begins to falter. I can’t have that; I have guests to tend to. Still, I was really looking forward to my first Christmas with Bragi.

Back together and back on task, I toss the bag in the large bin.

“That better not be my ribs you’re throwing out.”

Wandering down the alley towards me is the very person at the center of my heartache. Enormous relief swells in my chest.

“I thought you weren’t gonna make it,” I murmur, hoping the night hides the watery eyes.

“Me too, but I finished early.” His arms open to me. “So here I am.”

There’s no way I can resist accepting his gesture, so I hide my face against his musty shirt. “Thank gods.”

“Oi! Fluffcoat!”

Leaning over the rails above, Bragi’s classmates have been watching us. Wearing his cheeky grin, Eraqus is holding something over our heads. It’s hard to make out from the simple porch light, but it looks like a small bundle of leaves—I think I know what it is

“Is that…?”

My boyfriend growls, “Those bastards.”

“Go on!” Xehanort eggs. “Kiss!”

“Why don’t you guys just fuck off!” Bragi shouts back, waving a finger at his meddling classmates.

Bragi sighs in aggravation, but when I giggle, he smiles. “I didn’t really need an excuse to kiss you, but why waste it.”

Little Vor starts chanting “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” quickly encouraging the others to join in.

Calloused hands take my face, carefully pulling me in. Bragi’s preferred method of kissing is hot; his entire goal is always to turn me to putty in his hands. When he’s not trying to fluster me, kisses are usually shared in excitement or simple domesticity such bidding each other goodbye or welcome back. But this kiss is entirely different; it’s soft and tender. It’s like he’s pulling at my insides and it has me melting faster than any other kiss before. There is nothing but affection here, no sarcasm, no mischief, no cheeky attitude, just absolute adoration. Even the break is just so soft.

“I missed you,” he says only for me to here.

The anger and hurt has subsided for now; mostly I’m just happy that he’s here. “I missed you too.”

“Aw, don’t cry, gorgeous. I’m sorry.”

I let out an embarrassed laugh as I wipe my face. “Sorry.”

“You got nothin’ to apologize for. Now let’s go inside.”

Inside, in the light, I see just how rough he looks. The exhaustion still plagues him and there’s a healthy coat of grime over every inch of skin. Little cuts and bruises peek from beneath the dirt, including a cut over his eyes and a bruise on his jawline. Through it all though, he’s actually grinning.

He goes to wash up in the bathroom while I reheat food and chat with the others. Upon his return, I’ve got the first aid kit in hand and start pestering him over his injuries.

“Geeze, what did you do? Fall down the castle steps?” I sigh, swiping disinfectant across his scraped knuckles. His fingers twitch but Bragi simply chuckles.

“It’s a long story. Oh and—” Reaching for his jacket, he pulls something wrapped in plain brown paper which he pushes into my hands. “—this is for you. Sorry it’s not wrapped all pretty.”

“Oh sweetheart,” I coo. “Thank you.”

Urd butts in. “That looks like a book. You know they own a bookshop, right?”

Bragi glares. “Stay out of it.”

Based on the shape and weight, I already figured it was a book, but if I know Bragi, this’ll be interesting. When I find the old, worn corner of a purple book with silver details, I can barely wait to uncover the text inside.

It’s an older book that’s seen years of use. The cover is ornate but doesn’t have any markings to signify what it is or who it’s written by. A parchment smell swirls about as I open the front cover.

My jaw drops; having spent the last several months pouring over the work, I recognize the handwriting.

“No way,” I say, looking to the red-head.

Smarmy smirks. “Absolutely.”

I pull open a random page, finding a spell I’ve spent months trying to figure out, clearly explained and even with hand-drawn examples.

“Oh my gods! How did you get this?!”

“What is it?” Vor asks.

He could not be prouder of himself. “You know how persuasive I can be.”

“He spent three months running errands for that lady,” Hermod speaks up.

Immediately, the pillow from my sofa flies across the room to pelt the boy. “You knew?!”

Hermod recovers from the attack. “Well yeah. A responsible warrior always tells someone where he’s going.”

“Nice job keepin’ the secret, man,” Bragi commends.

This time, Vor asks louder, “What is it?!”

“It’s…It’s not really a book,” I say, flipping through more pages. “But all of these are notes from Master Rhode, the best space mage in all of history. I practically begged to be her apprentice, but she refused. I’d still love to study under her and see it all in action, but this is one hell of a start.” Still amazed, I look at Bragi. “Seriously, how did you get this?”

That puff of air has one hell of a story behind it. “Well, when I finally found her, I asked about the apprentice thing again, but she said no. So I asked if she had anything to help someone getting into the field and she told me anyone who studies space magic is an idiot.” His eyes narrow at me. “Why didn’t you tell me space magic is so dangerous?”

The mild scolding pricks at my excitement. “Technically, any magic is dangerous if done incorrectly.”

“Yeah, sure. We’ll talk about it later,” he warns. “Anyway, when I insisted, she said she’d give me her personal notes if I helped her with something she was studying. I figured it would take a week, maybe two, but not three months.” An arm pulls me up against him so he can nuzzle his nose against my face. “But definitely worth it for that smile.”

Fire flares across my back. The girls “aww” while some of the guys tease Bragi for being cheesy.

The party goes only for only another hour or so but, through the whole thing, I can barely bring myself leave the red-head’s side for even a second. However, while I can’t explain my elation at him being here, the precious, hard-earned book frequently recaptures my attention. He spent months of arduous work to get me something so unique and amazing and I can hardly believe he did this for me. It has me thinking about the little box left beneath the mini-tree.

The door closes behind Baldr and Bragi turns on me.

“Alright, what’s wrong?”

He’s got more of that affection he showed me earlier. When this started, I didn’t know where it would go, especially with the last few months, but if this is a sign of where this relationship is going, I think the decision just became so much easier.

“Um…nothing,” I answer, heading for the tree. Box in hand, I take a deep breath before offering the gift. “Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”

He lets me plop the present in his hand. “What was the hesitation for?” he teases. “Should I be worried? Is there a mousetrap in here?” When there’s no response to his joke, the smirk slips away.

Ribbon comes undone easily and the lid pops off. Red brows furrow together as he looks inside. With that same look of confusion, he looks to me.

“Are these…keys to your apartment?”

My heart is pounding in my ears. “And my shop.”

Amber eyes shoot wide open. “And your shop?!”

Hands wring together. “Yeah…I was kind of thinking that things between us were going really well and…I was kind of hoping…it would encourage you to spend more time with me.”

The surprise shifts to guilt with a sigh. “Guess my amazing gift came with an extra price.” He sets the box aside and wraps me up in his arms. “Sorry.” The embrace tightens. “I love you.”

Hearing that from him for the first time, knowing that a good thing is just going to get better, I squeeze his waist tighter.

“I love you too.”

His roughed-up lips press against my forehead. “Merry Christmas, babe.”

Warmth spreads from that spot, encouraging a smile. “Merry Christmas.”

~~~~~

Nova’s Kingdom Hearts Masterlist

#bragi #khdr bragi #kh bragi #bragi x reader #smarmy fluffcoat #smarmy nonsense #gender neutral reader

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certifiedmoxviolence · 4 years ago

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// It's ya boy. Moxley. Equal parts chill and rabblerouser. He's not the type to be too outgoing but he's also the type that'll send you some beer just because. Very distant for reasons that he believes are good. The jury's out if he's right or not.

Feel free to hit me up anytime for plots. Everythings game but ships require chemistry.

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starlingsrps · 5 years ago

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lily bowen.

BASIC INFORMATION

FULL NAME: lily morgan bowen REASONING: not really - her mother's name was violet but it was unintentional to also name her after a flower NICKNAME(S): lil PREFERRED NAME(S): lily BIRTH DATE: december 19 AGE: thirty four ZODIAC: sagittarius GENDER: cis female PRONOUNS: she/her ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: heterosexual SEXUAL ORIENTATION: heterosexual NATIONALITY: american ETHNICITY: american CURRENT LOCATION: holly point, ga LIVING CONDITIONS: i'm feeling a very cute house

BACKGROUND BIRTH PLACE: milwaukee, wi HOMETOWN: mequon, wi SOCIAL CLASS: middle EDUCATION LEVEL: b.s., biology, georgetown; m.d., emory university: residency at emory FATHER: charles bowen, 65, pediatrician MOTHER: violet (morgan) bowen, deceased SIBLING(S): n/a BIRTH ORDER: only CHILDREN: — PET(S): charlie, murder suspect/dog OTHER IMPORTANT RELATIVES: noah's family; anne bowen, 37, stepmother/step siblings: robbie, 16; eric, 14; sarah, 10 PREVIOUS RELATIONSHIPS: whatever there is in in the distance fuzz of Before Noah CURRENT RELATIONSHIP: noah cordell, since forever (i.e. ten years) ARRESTS?: oh no

OCCUPATION & INCOME PRIMARY SOURCE OF INCOME: gynecologist, holly point women's center SECONDARY SOURCE OF INCOME: rabblerouser CONTENT WITH THEIR JOB (OR LACK THERE OF)?: it's all she's ever wanted and worked for. her mother died of ovarian cancer when she was sixteen and while lily was always going to be a doctor, that was what pivoted her to women's health. she's never wanted anything but this and now that residency is over? PERFECT. PAST JOB(S): intern, medical courier SPENDING HABITS: thrifty MOST VALUABLE POSSESSION: charlie?

SKILLS & ABILITIES PHYSICAL STRENGTH: B- SPEED: B INTELLIGENCE: A+++ ACCURACY: A+ - nimble AGILITY: A+ - see above. STAMINA: A - she's used to goddamn thirty hour shifts as a resident she's good for a long time TEAMWORK: good! TALENTS: she's bright, bubbly, and cares So Much SHORTCOMINGS: when lily ices you out, you're riding mammoths it's the ice age. LANGUAGE(S) SPOKEN: english, healthcare spanish DRIVE?: yep JUMP-STAR A CAR?: nah CHANGE A FLAT TIRE?: [points up] RIDE A BICYCLE?: yep SWIM?: yep PLAY AN INSTRUMENT?: nope PLAY CHESS?: yep BRAID HAIR?: yep TIE A TIE?: nope PICK A LOCK?: nope

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE & CHARACTERISTICS FACE CLAIM: stephanie styles EYE COLOR: hazel HAIR COLOR: blonde HAIR TYPE/STYLE: long, usually in a braid or top knot GLASSES/CONTACTS?: contacts, glasses after twelve hours just because her eyeballs itch DOMINANT HAND: right HEIGHT: 5'2 BUILD: petite EXERCISE HABITS: not bad but anything more than three days a week and she starts to get upset SKIN TONE: fair TATTOOS: nah PIERCINGS: ears MARKS/SCARS: freckles, appendectomy scar NOTABLE FEATURES: nice hair, adorable USUAL EXPRESSION: listening, pleasant CLOTHING STYLE: scrubs? nah, cute dress and fun shoes off duty. jeans sometimes but dresses are easier to hem for the short so she likes dresses. JEWELRY: sometimes yes, sometimes no; her mother's wedding band around her neck usually ALLERGIES: seasonal DIET: getting p into meal prep and cooking now that she is free PHYSICAL AILMENTS: she's got shit circulation and is cold Always

PSYCHOLOGY MORAL ALIGNMENT: lawful good TEMPERAMENT: melancholic ELEMENT: earth MBTI TYPE: ESFJ MENTAL CONDITIONS/DISORDERS: some anxiety and such but nothing major SOCIABILITY: bubbly! she loves talking to people and she'll have your life story in no time at all. EMOTIONAL STABILITY: steady PHOBIA(S): death, snakes ADDICTION(S): nah DRUG USE: nah. ALCOHOL USE: sure. PRONE TO VIOLENCE?: nope.

MANNERISMS SPEECH STYLE: pretty perky, man ACCENT: slight twang/drawl hybrid from being southern-ish QUIRKS: she’s very tidy and particular about where things are HOBBIES: movies, walks with charlie, cooking - she hasn't had a lot of free time in recent years so she's Learning. HABITS: meal prepping NERVOUS TICKS: touching her hair DRIVES/MOTIVATIONS: oh boy. good life is best. POSITIVE TRAITS: kind, capable, compassionate, enthusiastic, determined, steady NEGATIVE TRAITS: arrogant, willful, picky, melodramtic SENSE OF HUMOR: good! DO THEY CURSE OFTEN?: not especially

FAVORITES ACTIVITY: being with noah but also working. she genuinely loves her job. ANIMAL: dogs BEVERAGE: water BOOK: make trouble by cecile richards COLOR: pink FOOD: pad thai FLOWER: roses GEM: pearl HOLIDAY: summer vacation MODE OF TRANSPORTATION: drive MOVIE: you've got mail SONG: "lover" by taylor swift SCENERY: the ocean SCENT: noah smells p good SPORT: she'll get hella into whatever sport she's actually seeing live but sports on tv? naptime. SPORTS TEAM: nah TELEVISION SHOW: parks and recreation WEATHER: spring is good VACATION DESTINATION: wherever's good!

ATTITUDES GREATEST DREAM: just keep doing what she's doing on a higher and higher level GREATEST FEAR: giving bad news MOST AT EASE WHEN: burrowed against noah on the couch, half asleep. LEAST AT EASE WHEN: people are talking down to her, be it literally or figuratively. BIGGEST ACHIEVEMENT: suriving residency BIGGEST REGRET: she hasn't really had much of a relationship with her father since he married his second wife and started a family with her and there are times when she does regret that but kind of figures what's done is done. TOP PRIORITIES: noah, friends, work.

#c: lily bowen

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melnchly-a · 5 years ago

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AT LONG LAST: ESTRID (ELEMENTAL OC) BIO BELOW THE CUT!

001. GENERAL INFORMATION:

full name: estrid, cerdic’s daughter

nicknames / titles: rabblerouser, the fire elemental

date of birth: december 20th; late teens to mid twenties throughout her canon

gender: cis female

home: inferno glen

occupation: none as such / leads a small band of rebels against foreign soldiers holding her nation under martial law.

status: noble by blood, but living in hiding / exile

002. PHYSICAL APPEARANCE

hairstyle: long, mostly straight / mildly wavy, often kept braided or partly braided for practicality

hair color: golden blonde, lightens under frequent exposure fo the sun

eyes: blue, verse-dependent red-gold accent/changeability

skin complexion: fair, freckles with high exposure to the sun.

003. PERSONAL INFORMATION

powers: ability to manipulate and control fire / verse dependent

fears: deep / open water, suffocation, death

animal companion: a horse by the name of modig ; a large chestnut with white socks / verse & timeline dependent

habits: nail biting, braiding/unbraiding/rebraiding portions of her hair, tapping feet/jiggling her knee (nearly always in some sort of motion)

skills: hand to hand combat, swordplay, horsemanship

004. BIOGRAPHY

born the eldest daughter to a high-ranking and renowned warrior of inferno glen, estrid’s life was supposed to be one of relative ease. instead, the gusting hills war tore through her home, and left in its aftermath blood and martial law. ruled by a foreign power they did not ask for and did not like, some of the people went into hiding while others chose to revolt. estrid’s father led many such revolts, and became notorious among the occupying soldiers. in the aftermath of the war, he took his family and a small band of others deep into the moors, where they could hide and gather strength until the time came to overthrow their conquerors.

one day, however, some years after the war had ended, six year old estrid and her father rode out to scout for food. on their way back, they were waylaid by enemy soldiers who recognized cerdic on sight. they were able to overpower their horse, and pull cerdic and estrid to the ground.

estrid’s beloved father was slaughtered before her very eyes, the trauma of which woke her elemental abilities. she accidentally burned the man who was holding her alice, and managed to run to her father’s horse. the daughter of a people skilled on horseback, she had been riding since she was only a baby, and galloped off across the moors where the soldiers could not follow her. shaken, bloody, and tearful, she had to relate the story first to her mother and then again to the elder who had escaped with them.

it was he who explained to estrid just what she was, and just how dangerous it made her. they would be looking for her now, he said. she must never reveal what she could really do.

so she grew up among the other children who had escaped into the moors, learning to fight and to ride. as the eldest daughter of a family without sons, she took it upon her own shoulders to mould herself into her father’s heir, and to take care of her mother and her sisters.

but in the life she had been thrust into, that meant growing up to lead a small band of young, rebellious exiles to heckle and harass the occupying soldiers, and to help those of their people who had remained outside of hiding.

and then one day the dream appeared : a young man, a terrible fate, a strange and searing phantom pain she couldn’t understand. again, it was the elder who explained to her that there were others….and that she could find them, must find them, if there was to be any chance at peace and balance once again.

so she took off on the horse that had been bred from her father’s trusted steed, and made her second-in-command of the rebel group swear to watch over her family. and she set off for the castle. determined, now, to find the others…and most particularly the boy that she had dreamed about.

#estrid: general #estrid: bio #estrid: headcanons #(literally just copy/pasted this fro her old blog why did this take me so long)

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melxncholix · 5 years ago

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Yo, what up, it’s ya boy [TRAIN NOISE MUFFLES NAME], back from [LOUD, RAUCOUS CHEERS FROM DRUNKEN RABBLEROUSERS] and I’m ready to Interact

#{ out of sadness }

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sliptohk · 6 years ago

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Prompt# 9: Dense

((Ok, I just decided to have fun with this one.))

The grizzled roegadyn had stepped away from the bar for less time than it would take for one of his regulars to drain their tankard, yet already an unfamiliar sight awaited him. Brilliant orange eyes peered up at him, the small kit's head tilting back to look him in the eyes. A mop of black hair on the waifish looking thing's head, one hand loosely gripping her other wrist behind her back. That blank look fixated on him far longer than would be considered polite from another adult. It took a little while for any sort of recognition to dawn on the aging seawolf's face, lowering himself with the creak of worn knees closer to the little miqo'te's level. Dressed in canvas trousers and a loose linen tanktop it was only their relative scarcity that gave him any inclination on just which sailor might have dropped their offspring off unannounced.

"That you Tick-Tock?"

She hardly echoed her mother's deep tone when she spoke, that childish squeak in her words. At the very least it seemed the young Seeker was able to string setences together, far easier to deal with than those mysterious little combinations she had been spitting out the last time L'kaisa's ship had been in port.

"Tohk!" It was clear she hadn't yet realized that he would never be able to copy that odd little hiss miqo'te liked to add to their names, "Boat's back! Mum went t'drink wi' th' crew!"

"Left ya here with me, huh? Least the old gal could do is say hello before traipsing off."

"Aye. 'm 'ungry, gimme some vittles, ol' man!" That stubby little tail wriggled eagerly as she bounced on her toes, a sight more sure-footed than children not born of the clans.

Thick forearms crossed as Dehmhaemr adopted a playful scowl, each one of those muscular limbs thicker around than the little terror's waist. Of course it failed to cause the miqo'te any concern as she just maintained that demanding stare until he rose up to move back toward the grill. It was always the same thing in mind for Tohk and her mother, whatever fresh cut of fish or meat had come in, kissing the flame only long enough to sear the surface. Anything more was a waste, as Kaisa wasn't above throwing back overdone meat or refusing to pay, her daughter following suit as she emulated the older Seeker.

Without the brawny rabblerouser at hand the little kit was far easier to handle, wandering after the roegadyn and snatching at one of his pant legs to try and lift her eyes higher for a sight of the spitting grill when a fresh cut of buffalo slapped down on it. As well as the two got along, there was no need to court disaster with little fingers around smoldering iron, a surefire way to gain the emerald-eyed scrapper's ire. Plucking up his new companion before she got him in trouble, she plopped her down on the countertop behind him, fishing out some watered wine to pour out beside her.

Occupying himself with that brief cook, the next arrival was greeted with a distracted grunt at the sound of the door swinging open. It was harder to ignore the bellow of greeting as one of the more recent patrons stomped over toward a stool, a broad-shouldered Hellsguard, that put even the stately Seawolf to shame with his size. A look of annoyance crossed the proprieter's face at the indignant sound Tohk made when the visitor pushed her to one side out of his way.

"The kid was sitting there, Cedar. Why do you have to take that seat?" He waved that iron spatula at the intruder, before turning it to flip the meat. Tohk emphasized the question with a hiss and spit that the new arrival ignored, or failed to notice.

Screaming Cedar just offered a slow blink, his red-hued features in perfect contrast to the blue of the barkeeper's own. Looking between the miqo'te and seawolf in bafflement for several long moments before he spoke, his voice a rumble to match that powerful frame.

"I didn't know you had a kid, Dehm!"

Pale eyes squinted, was the Hellsguard making a jest? "I don't."

If he heard the words, he failed to register them, as the marauder turned that appraising look over the Seeker once more, "What's with her ears? Is this a tail? Something's wrong with your boy!"

"She's not my boy!"

"Oh, my apologies. Something's wrong with your girl!"

The oaf had to be joking. There was no way he would mistake a miqo'te for the offspring of his own kind. Dropping that slightly cooked meat before Tohk, and being mindful to hold her back from biting into it until the slab had cooled, he spoke slowly and clearly.

"There's nothing wrong with her."

A laugh erupted from Cedar as he slapped one hand on his thigh, "Of course, of course! A parent would accept their child as they are! I apologize, elder!"

Pinching his nose between two thick fingers, the seawolf let out a pained grumble, "Like a sack of rocks."

"I wouldn't say I like them, but I have had to carry them for training."

It took a moment to quell the immense irritation bubbling up within, as Dehmhaemr tried his best to breath away that anger. Either this one was committed to putting him in a foul mood, or the sorry lout was a sight thicker between the ears than he had ever given him credit for. Given the lack of recognition on the Hellsguard's face, it was pretty clear which camp he fell into.

"I'll give you a free mug if ya shut yer yap for a spell."

"How would I drink it?"

Tohk paused in her attempts to slip passed her burly babysitter's arms, turning back to stare at the literal minded patron behind her. A faint wrinkle of her nose as she pondered the thought while her personal chef glowered.

"Y'can use yer nose. Like if'n someun' gets water up it!"

Dawning comprehension spread across Cedar's face, nodding sharply in agreement with the miqo'te child, "Of course! Though that sounds unpleasant."

"Are ya having a laugh, mate? At least she's a swivin' child!"

"Laugh about what?"

Dehmhaemr snatched up a pair of mugs, pouring himself an extra portion of rum before sliding the other across to the other roegadyn. If he was going to have to deal with these two he would at least have a drink or two before they drove him mad.

#IC Writing #writing prompt #ffxivwrite2018

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