#the shrike legacy

[lady-artichoke]

Jonah made it this far with brute force and charm, but to finally reach the top, he needs to hone his tactical and logical skills. And thankfully, former businessman and brother-in-law Regis is more than happy to help.

#ts3 #sims 3 #the shrike legacy

[fandomsandhappiness]

Shrike, Gilgamesh, and the golem

“What are you for?” asked one boy at last, pushing to the front of the crowd. Shrike looked down at him. He pondered a while, thinking of something Dr Popjoy had told Anna. “I AM A REMEMBERING MACHINE,” he said. (ADP.532-533)

The machine is shaped and wrought to purpose, but Shrike’s determination of his own reason for being is very much a recurring theme throughout the quartet. Perhaps this is why his self-identification as such caught my eye. He has shucked off all other purpose but to remember, which he proceeds to do by telling a story that begins with the opening lines of Mortal Engines. He assumes the role of a framing device—another sort of remembering machine, perhaps?

Dredged out of the past and put to new purpose—rather like Shrike himself—this technique has been used before. I am thinking of the Epic of Gilgamesh, in which the eponymous hero gives up a life of adventuring, accepts the inevitability of his own death and, as I read it, goes on to write the tablets that almost make up the text. I don’t think it's a one-to-one equivalence in either case: neither Shrike nor Gilgamesh would tell the stories quite as we read them, but I think the texts can be read as echoes of the stories they claim have been told.

According to the text of Gilgamesh, the story can be found in the city of Uruk, written on lapis tablets, but the tablets on which this is written—the tablets we have today—are made of clay. What role does the tablet play for Gilgamesh? A framing device? A remembering machine?

Memory, history, archaeology; all these are central concerns of the quartet, driven home frequently by Tom Natsworthy, the would-be historian, and his fictionalising counterparts Valentine and Pennyroyal, each of whom attain a level of renown that Tom never does. Much of the series’ humour derives from pieces of more-or-less contemporary culture filtered through hundreds or thousands of years of post-apocalyptic life. What is the truth? What is history?

“For a somewhat sensationalized but passably accurate account of London’s momentous push east in 1007, see Mortal Engines by Philip Reeve.” So says The Traction Codex, listing Reeve’s work alongside those of Nimrod Pennyroyal (Predator’s Gold) and Sathya Kuranath (A True History of the Wind Flower, “generally regarded as unreliable”). The Codex formed the basis for The Illustrated World of Mortal Engines, for which this particular line was removed. Like the multiple recreations and translations of Gilgamesh, and the conflicting accounts of various histories given by different parties in the quartet and the prequel trilogy, the past is not straightforward. From Janis Dawson: “Reeve’s novels are an eclectic, sometimes bizarre, blend of genres and forms punctuated with scores of parodic references to classic texts, histories, popular literature, film, and advertising blurbs. They are, in effect, literary Jenny Hanivers”. (p. 143)

Clay constitutes the tablets of the Gilgamesh epic, but within the text, it is from clay that the goddess Aruru forms the wild man, Enkidu. Rival, companion, perhaps lover to Gilgamesh, Enkidu is a formidable warrior and loyal friend. The body of the wild man and the material on which the text survives; clay is the substrate of life and words. A parallel can be found in Jewish folklore: formed from clay, the golem was brought to life by writing one of the names of God on a piece of paper, which would be placed in the mouth or forehead. In various tales, the golem is both protector and threat. Terry Pratchett plays with this idea in Feet of Clay: the words in our head make us who we are. We are the material upon which history is written.

Perhaps fittingly, no one conclusion jumps out at me. The histories we create, or remember, make us who we are? There is no escaping the past? What we choose to believe, about ourselves or about history, matters? Shrike is a futuristic take on the golem? The remembering machine, whether clay (juncture of life/writing and earth) or cyborg (juncture of human/data and machine), is a letter sent forward into the future, as deadly and implacable a technology as any Slow Bomb?

Variously, Mortal Engines is claimed as a 2001 fictional children's novel, as Shrike’s remembering, as Philip Reeve’s sensationalized but passably accurate account of events... Perhaps it is necessary for these histories to co-exist with each, not in spite of but because of their differences.

Note: The Traction Codex doesn’t have page numbers, but it’s ebook only, so it should be easy enough to track down any quotes. For Gilgamesh I’m referring to Benjamin Foster’s translation (Second Norton Critical Edition), and for golems I’m relying on Wikipedia. Let me know if you want a copy of the Dawson article, though I think the line I quoted is the only bit worth reading.

#shrike and the scriven make for an interesting parallel i think #both products of the black centuries dragged out of the north. twisted legacies of the scrivener institute. built to last #but where the scriven were made to preserve life. shrike was made to end it #the scriven were to be a hand on the yoke of history. shrike to be a tool in the hand #but the hand wasted away and the tool kept on doing its grim work until it wasn't a tool any more #shrike #mortal engines #reeve_thoughts

[deathbypufferfish]

Oscar and Miyu playlist you are my worst enemy and my best ally

#THE MOST YEARNING PLAYLIST THAT'S EVER YEARNED #YOUR SONG #LOVER #SHRIKE #BEING ALLIIIVVEEE #I LOVE YOU MOREEE #puffer talks #im #puffer legacy extras

[fandonnavyce]

Jason in Wonderland - Part 3

Who Are You?

Part 1, Part 2, AO3

“Not all who wander are lost.” Gotham smiled. It was cruel. It was uncaring. It was welcoming.

“A̵̍̑͜r̶̞̳͋e ̸͍͜͝ÿ̶̢̥́o̸u No̸̖̯̽t̴͘ Họ̸̅̅m̸̿ẻ̸̩͘?̷̅ M̴̢͙̜͇͓̂̑̉͝͝¥̶̖͙͖͇̳̃̿͑́͠ Sð̶͓͚̟̟͚͗̅̃̋̒ñ̸(Mine, mine, MINE)(My-Twice-Born)(My Red Knight)(My Beloved Bloody Butcherbird).”

“Your Son?” Jason tasted the name, the title, on the tip of his tongue.

Gotham smiled. Gleaming white teeth, straight and perfect, sparkled. ‘Dangerous’, Jason's instincts murmured.

“My Dear Robin,” she called.

Jason blanched.

“I am Not Robin.”

Gotham smirked.

“I am Not Robin,” Jason protested vehemently. Gotham gave an arched brow.

“My Son, My Robin, My Knight. Blood Red Shrike, Redbreast Bright. My Son, My Robin, My Knight.”

Gotham sang.

“O’ Robin. Wast Robin not borne from mine own very flesh? Didst thee not nurse on mine own blood and tears, teethed on mine own bones. Sleepeth and swaddled under mine own night skies blanket? Hath I not raised Robin on mine own streets?

O’ Robin. Didst Robin’s first steps not tread in milk-teeth sneakers upon mine own broken back? First words not chirped to mine own visage, in mine own ears With a chick’s cheeping?

O’ Robin.

With downy feathers of red, green, and gold didst Robin’s first flight not beginneth                      with a leap into mine own arms?

And after thee wast Lost to me on distant shores Forsaken Son, didst thee not Returneth to me? Thou art Walk Against Death as my Red Knight When you crawled out from Death’s Hold and Birthed yourself from my soil bed Wast thee not then Born Again? O’ My Darling Robin

O’ Son of Gotham Son of Catherine, Son of Sheila, Son of Willis, Son of Bruce, Scion of Alfred, Scion of Wayne. Jason Peter Todd, Gotham runs in thy veins. It’s in thy blood. I’m in the marrow of thy bones. Tis in thy DNA

If You, who left and returned to my bosom, If You, with me in your lungs, vanquishes those that prey on the humblest, are not My Robin then… Who Are You?

If ye, Who didst turn a Circus Child’s erstwhile boots and infant wings Into a Gotham Legacy, art not Robin mine then…

Ẃ̸̰h̵̞͎̓̔o̷̪͌̀ Aṛ̴̽t̷̛̖͉̾ T̴̩͍̿ḫ̴̇o̷̙̼̔ù̸̜̊?”

Jason’s mind blanked. Suddenly Red Hood, a name Jason had ripped off that blight on Gotham. That he wore second-hand. That he executed, ruled, and governed with, suddenly seemed ill-fitting, (too small) and unsuited (wretched) relative to everything else he had been. Bright, Wonderful, Magic. (I’m Robin and being Robin gives me Magic)

“I, I, I hardly know” Jason replied. “But I know I'm much changed from then, since when I was Robin.”

“What do you mean by that? Explain yourself Ṙ̵̳͊ob̵͛͝ḯ̵̙͕̍n.”

Jason shook his head. “I can't explain Myself beyond that I'm hardly Robin anymore. I don't even know how I, myself, came back from Death, you see.”

“I don't see,” said Gotham.

To Gotham, Robin was Robin was Robin was Robin was Robin.

“I'm afraid I can't put it more clearly.” Jason answered politely, “I don't understand Myself. Only that being so different is maddening.”

“It is not,” said Gotham. A Spirit born from the minds of thousands across generations; Gotham was Gotham was Gotham, no matter the skin or time the City wears.

“Surely, being like one kind of person then being like a totally different kind, whilst still being treated like they're the same. Is that not strange?”

“No.”

Jason scowled, frustrated at his failure to get his point across, and at Gotham’s refusal to see his way.

“Robin died!” Jason ground out, “Robin died with broken wings, a busted skull, choking on smoke, and with fire eating away at my flesh.” Jason gasped for air, “Robin died! And when I came back, I wasn’t Robin, I WAS MAD!!!”

Doubling over, Jason keened. His throat choked. His skin itched. His chest burned. Frustrated, desperate fingers clutched and dug for absent relief. His head SCREAMED!

Then he felt a gentle kiss upon his brow. A Mother’s Benediction. Jason gasped. Frantically, he rubbed away the welling tears of relief at the sudden calm.

“What was that?!” Jason demanded in quiet, seething, wide-eyed disbelief.

“You seemed to have developed a hypersensitive autoimmune response. Recollections of your demise seemed to have triggered an anaphylactic shock on an ectobiological scale. Your hybrid ectobiology are causing seizures that are, despite overt superficial similarities, of a state atypical of a Ghost’s Death Day because of- ”

“Speak plain english!” cried the Butcherbird to his Lady Gotham. “I don’t know the meaning of half those long words, and, what’s more, I don’t believe you do either!” Jason breathed heavily in the silence. Gotham’s eyes are hooded, as garnet hair flutters and writhes upon her bare shoulders.

“You had an allergic reaction. At the very core of you.” Then with a wave of her black gloved hand, the scene blurs.

...

Jason stands on a rooftop with a gargoyle for company and two others:

Gotham’s Dark Knight and Robin Boy Wonder.

The Dark Knight is an amorphous spiked shadow-blob from the neck down and a facsimile of a horned shadowy head with a pair of white beaming eyes from the neck up.

Boy Wonder meanwhile is a five foot nothing dark haired kid dressed in a colourful top, a bright yellow cape, and green booty shorts with matching pixie boots. His indistinct youthful features behind the domino mask place him anywhere between the ages of 8 and twice that.

“Holy macaroni, you’re in rough shape!”

“Hmm”

Jason blue-screens.

“Did we break his brain?”

“Hnn”

“Should we-”

“Who are you?” Jason interrupted. Jason already knew. But he just wanted them to say it.

Whispers rasped from the rustling wind.

  “I am Vengeance . I am The Night .”

  The Dark Knight’s shroud flared to impossible, intimidating heights.

 “ I’m Batman.” 

Jason felt his skin break out into goosebumps as he stared up into the night sky dominated by Gotham’s Dark Knight.

“AND I'M ROBIN!”

Like a bright firework bang, Robin shone high in the sky.

Fwip, fwip, fwip, fwip.

An iconic dazzling quadruple flip splashed against the sky. Robin gracefully danced with gravity to finish with a beautiful descent. The moves were Dick Grayson.

But that was a rough Gotham brogue - kenned from the mouths of street alley rats.

#dpxdc #danny phantom #gotham city #crossover danuary 2024 #jason todd #Batman #Robin #alice in wonderland

[ips-northstar-official]

Own the battlefield with the Vlad, a striker-controller mech from IPS-Northstar. Built upon the storied legacy of the Yi-Sun-Shin, the Vlad improves on it in every way to make a fearsome foe for any would-be pirate. It sports a potent mixture of piercing weapons designed to trip up, hold, and punish even the fastest of foes, with a targeting system optimized to brutalize any weak points it may find. Plus, with titanium-alloy shrike armor, nobody will even want to get close. But get close they will.

Let them run, Lancer. They’ll only die tired.

#lancer rpg #lancerrpg #products

[dafukdidiwatch]

Paranatural 41

<read like Brennan Lee Mulligan>

HELLLLLLO ONE AND ALL! Wecomebacktoanother thrilling episode of Dimension Twenty:

I'm your humble dungeon master Brennan Lee Mulligan. With me as always are our Ghoulie Schoolies! Say Hi Ghoulie Schoolies!

"HI GHOULIE SCHOOLIES!"

Last! We! Left! Off! Long in the past Ricky aka Richard Spender had taken Isabel and his friends to Camp Lakeside where during the night they faced off against Jeane's former mentor Shrike, now Werewolf of ultimate power. After just blasting through it with a train, the Werewolf was sent to some other part of the country team rocket style, and Ricky and Isabel had a lovely heart to heart, while Mina broke his heart by leaving town the next day, determined to fight the ultimate spirit in her own way.

Many Years Later and we see Spender picking up Issac, a young boy with newly developed storm abilities after the dramatic defeat of King Catnine. This eventually lead to the reveal of why Dimitri left and Boss Leader not being the mortal she says she is.

We cut back to the present dinner between Richard and Day where even more secrets were reveals. That Agent June Summers, Richard and Day's Mentor, was actually June Puckett! AKA Max's Mom!

<Cheers in the background> "Following in Mom's footsteps"

Ah yes the family legacy.

Max's Player: "Does this mean I'm going to die?"

<sputtering wheeze laugh> Well there's only one way to find out.

Let us begin with...Chapter 8!

#dafukblog #pnat #pnchp8 #pn41 #pnat previous #man that took like a hour to write #but always a fun gimmick

[todayis-snowy]

Enter stage left, Blood Shrike, the legacy of House Chanthara, ‘loyal’ servant to the Empire of Cyclonia, and this month’s entry into @far-side-skies’s bird OC challenge!

Third-eldest of the Cyclonian Elites, Blood Shrike primarily heads the Crystal Weaponry and Development sector for the empire’s war effort. It is better to die in a battle against Cyclonia, lest you survive as a prisoner-turned-lab rat for their experiments.

Ironically years beforehand, Blood Shrike and their siblings were test subjects for a study surrounding cures for Binding Sickness. As the sole survivor they left with crystals in their blood and back, and a heavy grudge against those with a natural attunement to the Binding.

Needless to say they do not take kindly to Emperor Cyclonis, who wears a crystal that Blood Shrike recognises all too well from the labs.

P.S: don’t get too close to them. those claws are Sharp.

#storm hawks #stork hawks fanart #storm hawks OC challenge #my art #storm hawks bird OC challenge #Storm hawks OC #honestly one of my favourites out of the elites like yas stay toxic! #storm hawks bird challenge

[ao3feed-brucewayne]

Rooftop Meetings

by vividities When Two-Face almost beats a newly minted Robin to death, Bruce decides that the life of a vigilante is too dangerous for a kid. This becomes the catalyst for a series of events that leads twelve-year-old Dick Grayson down a much more dangerous path.  "Maybe he wore the armor of Robin because his parents wore the armor of dirt. Maybe he did love Gotham, in a way, because Robin was the same thing as love. And Gotham was the city where his parents took their last breaths. Gotham was the place they’d had their final flight. His time in Gotham was the longest he’d ever stayed in one place and, for the first time in his life, he felt sick to his stomach at the thought of leaving. He thought of his parents, wearing stage smiles as they walked out to their deaths. He thought of Bruce, all wrapped up in the shadows of himself. He thought of Alfred's stiff-backed posture and worried face. He thought of Leslie and all that she’d done for him. He thought of Batman and Robin and home... He turned and faced the sea.”  Words: 3078, Chapters: 1/12, Language: English Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types, Nightwing (Comics), Robin (Comics) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: Gen Characters: Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne, Leslie Thompkins, Boone (DCU), Shrike (DCU) Relationships: Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Boone, More to be added!! - Relationship Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Robin Year One canon divergence, Dick Grayson is Robin, DICK GRAYSON IS ROBIN!!, Dick Grayson-centric, Dick Grayson's complicated relationship with his own legacy, The League of Assassins (DCU), Young Dick Grayson, BAMF Dick Grayson, (eventually) - Freeform, Also the rest of the Teen Titans will be here eventually, And Shiva but I won't tag her yet, Stick with me stick with me stick with me, Dick Grayson Has Abandonment Issues, and he almost becomes an assassin in this one via https://ift.tt/fp1QPMm

#IFTTT #bruce wayne #batman #the dark knight #the caped crusader #gotham #dcu #dc #ao3 #ao3feed

[isagrimorie]

Ezri Dax and Kathyrn Janeway meeting, maybe at Starfleet HQ or a conference on leadership and trauma? I think they'd get along in an interesting way. Also what made you love season 3 of Picard?

For the Trek Talks

They meet because Starfleet orders Captain Janeway to report to Ezri Dax for mandatory therapy -- the usual fandom choice is Deanna Troi but Starfleet recognizes that Ezri could be someone they can utilize.

Apart from the enforced leave, Starfleet made it a condition for her promotion that Janeway take mandatory therapy. Janeway does not like this-- if Janeway was already a hard customer for the EMH, Janeway is even a tougher one when it comes to mandatory therapy.

Also, Janeway's initial grumpy kneejerk reaction about Ezri is to get offended that she was assigned a child for therapy.

Ezri recognizes all these of course, and she's not at all intimidated by all the ways Janeway is trying to hack her way out of therapy. Compared to Garak, Janeway is not nearly as slippery as she thinks she is. Also, she has several lifetimes under her belt, but most importantly, Ezri Dax is a damned good therapist.

Eventually, Ezri chips away Janeway's reluctance and they begin to make some headway. Unfortunately, some crisis happens and Janeway is pulled away before she's ready to but Ezri Dax is nothing if not persistent. If the mountain can't go to therapy, therapy will go to the mountain. Or something.

After, they do become great friends but boy, were there some tough things they had to work through to get there.

----

Also, what made you love season 3 of Picard?

I know it's not everyone's cup of tea but that flavor of Trek is my exact flavor of Trek. I love the space show, the starship, the Starfleet of it all. I love the full-on minute of ship porn with the swelling music.

I love seeing Seven of Nine finally in uniform. I love a good Bridge crew, I love the pace. The dialogue, I love the complicated messiness of relationships and I got two really great conversational minefields first between Crusher and Picard and next between Ro and Picard. The weight of history between those relationships.

The weight of history between the characters.

The sheer beauty and menace of the Shrike, the SUBMARINE STYLE starship fight-- I'm a sucker for a great submarine-style starship fight.

Amanda Plummer as VADIC. The way she says: "Jean-Luc Picard."

Seven of Nine, in the background manning Ops station, hints that the maintenance and engineering is so well oiled because Seven might not have been in Starfleet in nearly two decades but she slipped back into the same person who would do efficiency reports on EVERYONE.

Voyager slowly but surely returns to Seven after two seasons of Seven not saying anything about Voyager, we finally see the ship, Seven talks about the ship and her crew.

TUVOK AND SEVEN.

It has my whole heart.

The way the Dominion war is set into the bones and DNA of the Federation and Starfleet that it clearly left a mark. The DS9 callbacks, the way the virus idea from Dark Frontier pays off in Federation Day, assimilating people unknowingly. (Because Admiral Janeway fucked up the Borg/Queen so bad they can't even assimilate in the way they usually did).

The promise of tomorrow.

(And from a 12 Monkeys fan -- the very, very blatant 12 Monkeys easter eggs.)

Is it a perfect season? Of course not, no Trek has a Perfect season, it could have benefitted from a few more passes, especially the last half of the season. They could have IMO done a lot more with Seven, especially with the Borg stuff-- it's the same complaint I've had of Picard since season 1.

But I get it -- the show is called Star Trek Picard and not Star Trek Seven of Nine/Legacy. But it should be. Also, 10 episodes aren't enough, and I get how the COVID precautions ate at the budget, that season 2 ate up both production and budgets.

But that's just the nature of the beast of loving a Trek show.

#answered #ussjellyfish #trek talks #star trek #kathryn janeway #ezri dax #star trek picard #seven of nine #tuvok

[daisygirlwrites]

june update

hello hello! it has been a minute since i've been here. sorry about that, life has been a lot lately (which i shall mention later on!).

anyways, some news. first and foremost, i'm still writing. recently, i've been getting a few messages concerned about my lack of activity, so i wanted to get that out of the way.

the next thing i want to mention is that i have a coupe works started for other fandoms:

a Edward Nashton x Reader mini series (The Batman)

couple of Hogwarts Legacy fics (most of them being Sebastian Sallow x Reader)

some LOTRs headcanons (Dúnadan! Reader)

a few Aemond Targaryen x Reader ideas

i am very excited to broaden my works and write for new fandoms but i will also keep posting COD fics as well! here's a list of works that'll be out soon:

spending leave with TF 141 headcanons

Callsign Shrike (Crash's backstory)

Museum Date (Konig x Reader)

Crash's 25th Birthday

Uncle Si

i plan to be more active overall but unfortunately, my posting schedule might be sporadic in the next couple months. planning a wedding is stressful :)

#daisygirlwrites #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #edward nashton x reader #hogwarts legacy x reader #sebastian sallow x reader #lotr headcanons #lotr x reader #aemond targaryen x reader

[lady-artichoke]

While she prefers to write in the quiet of her home office, sometimes Rebecca gets stir crazy and goes to the library to work.

#ts3 #sims 3 #sims #the shrike legacy

[sporkberries]

People are anticipating Tim finally getting a new hero name in the comics, what option would be your favorite? I saw your post about him as Question which is cool, but as far as I know Renee isn’t anywhere near retirement and it wouldn’t happen in the comics (not soon at least). What would you ideal name for him be? Personally I’m partial to something bird themed since Tim grew up admiring Robin and it keeps his connection to the family (just not Red Robin or Drake because those suck)

I like Tim as The Question conceptually but i mainly just made those posts bc I think its a fun concept as hinted at in Future State: Shazam. SADLY because Dc is awful Renee is not the question at the moment, they backtracked all her development to make her commissioner even though it makes no fucking sense. (I’ve also since privated my tim question posts for a number of reasons)

Legacy title wise as of late i REALLY like Tim using Black Bat. But an original bird title is also good, at the end of the day anything that isnt robin or red Robin is bare minimum. I’ve seen Shrike thrown around which i like quite a bit. I however dislike cardinal because it sounds religious lol.

#id say black bat is my favorite atm #but i like shrike #spork says stuff #dc #tim drake

[overwatch-does-stuff]

📕

"Wadjet"

HOO BOY I've had this one in my brain for a while. It's inspired by Ana's post-apocalyptic skins, "Wadjet" and "Wasteland". It's basically, "What if Ana knew Junkrat and Roadhog?"

The fic would have two timelines that it would flash back and forth between-

A past timeline that takes place fresh after Ana was forced to fake her death. She's chasing odd jobs around the world as the bounty hunter "Shrike", trying to make a name for herself. A lead convinces her to travel to the remote Australian wastes, only to ghost her and leave her stranded in Junkertown with not a single penny to her name. She finds herself having to beg for scraps among these ruffians that she can barely call people, until one day, a large man comes up to her and offers her work and a place to stay. The cost? To help him find the misty gold substance that he needs to stay alive, and to watch over his partner, a skinny little loud-mouth who gets into way too much trouble.

A current timeline that takes place in the newly reformed Overwatch. Ana is a strike team leader and her team has been assigned to track down a pair of criminals that have been on a major spree for the past year and a half. Her team corners the suspects in a shipping yard, but something about their voices seems familiar. Very familiar. And thus, she offers for the Junkers a choice: get turned into prison. . . or join Overwatch.

Basically it'd be a combo fic of my headcanons for Roadhog and Junkrat backstories slammed in with my egregiously out-of-character redemption arcs for the both of them, as Ana welcomes them back into her life and tries to reconnect with them, much to the utter bafflement of everyone else in Overwatch. You'd have silly moments of Ana joining in on the Junker shenanigans. You'd have the somber moments of Roadhog and Ana's sharing of their respective life tragedies. You'd have the angst of Roadhog not wanting to become part of a bigger organization again and you'd have the angst of Junkrat being treated nicely for the first time in like, ever. And through it all, you have Ana's reflections on her life and her legacy, wondering if she's doing the right thing for both Overwatch and the Junkers.

Ultimately, it would end when Roadhog and Junkrat become full-fledged members of the new Overwatch, completing their transition from selfish criminals to people willing to fight to protect their friends. Cheesy, I know, but I already warned you this fic wasn't in character.

#overwatch #overwatch ana #overwatch roadhog #overwatch junkrat #junkrat #roadhog #oh and there'd definitely be roadrat in this fic if you squinted #this fic would basically be my attempt to make the junkers interesting lol #it would also be a character study fic for Ana #you can see why I haven't written it- it's a LOT

[discotreque]

Red yarn & thumbtacks

I’ve been thinking a totally normal amount about the LCARS graphics in the closing credits of this season of Picard, and I haven’t jumped to a single unhinged conclusion or ludicrous conspiracy theory.

I’ve got several.

Theory #1: Jack Crusher is a clone of the Jack Crusher

Let’s make this storyline even stupider, shall we? There’s a ton of DNA-related imagery throughout, and it’s directly associated with Ed Speleers’s name—just like Seven of Nine’s “performance evaluation” appears when Jeri Ryan’s credit does.

Ridiculous? Yes. Possibly even more offensive than Bev just hiding a kid from Jean-Luc this whole time? Also yes. But on a show that’s never met an outlandish plot twist it didn’t passionately embrace, “he’s definitely their naturally-conceived child and she never told Jean-Luc about him” feels like it can’t be the whole story. Not this early.

Also? This is the melody to “Pop Goes the Weasel,” and in a cadence that evokes old mechanical wind-up music toys. Like you might find in, for example… a jack-in-the-box. A CLONE BOX. *drops mic*

Theory #2: Captain Shaw was at Wolf 359

*picks mic back up*

The USS Constance (NCC-10387; a Constellation-class like the Stargazer) was lost in action under redacted circumstances, on a stardate right at the beginning of TNG Season 4.

I think Liam Shaw was a junior officer on the Constance when Locutus destroyed it, he got PTSD that almost ruined his career (per Vadic’s taunting about his psych profile), and that’s why he’s got a chip on his shoulder about ex-Borg and an aversion to wham-bang escapades.

Theory #3: The ultimate target will be the Fleet Museum

What is truly irreplaceable to Starfleet? Not to sound callous, but you can always replicate more materiel, build more starships, recruit more adrenaline junkies. From an evil antagonist’s point of view, blowing up recruitment centres or even entire starbases is just costing Starfleet resources. How can you subject a post-scarcity society to meaningful loss? Like, psychologically?

Well, you can destroy its history. They can commission a Voyager-A and -B, but they can’t replace the actual ship that went to the Delta Quadrant and back. They can make new Enterprises all the way down to -Z, but they won’t be the same NCC-1701-A that went to the centre of the galaxy and killed god. The USS Excelsior is… also there. And so on.

I’m guessing that Moriarty or Sela or the insects from “Conspiracy” or whoever’s actually pulling the strings here is going to attempt an existential blow to the entire Federation by wiping out the legacy (!) of its most historic surviving starships.

Theory #4: We’re already in Moriarty’s holo-trap

What if Picard and Riker’s conversation in 10 Forward in the very first episode of this season was actually in a holodeck?

What if this entire season so far has been inside a holodeck?

What if everything since TNG Season 6 has been inside a holodeck???

Miscellaneous bullshit:

I don’t recognize this alien script, and couldn’t find anything even close on Memory Alpha. Those are the little fighters deployed from the Shrike, though, right? So maybe it’s that clicky language Vadic’s crew speak. Weird that it’s integrated right into the LCARS like that…

Uhhhhhhh, Garth Nix crossover?

Yeahhhh, okay, I’ve got nothing.

#star trek #star trek picard #star trek picard spoilers #picard spoilers #picard season 3 #amy.txt

[isabellafm]

GO MIN SI, 21, CIS WOMAN, SHE/HER. — Is that ISABELLA CHOI? A SOPHOMORE originally from MANHATTAN, NY, they decided to come to Ogden College to study ART HISTORY AND FRENCH STUDIES. They’re THE NEPO BABY on campus, but even they could get blamed for Greer’s disappearance.

— PINTEREST. — SPOTIFY. 

HEADER PSD. INTRO PSD. 

— CHARACTER INSPIRATION.

Lux Lisbon (The Virgin Suicides), Margo Tenenbaum (The Royal Tenenbaums), Daria Morgendorffer (Daria), Estella Havisham (Great Expectations), Anya (The Midnight Club), Rebecca Doppelmeyer (Ghost World), Darcy Lewis (Thor), Rue (Princess Tutu).

— AESTHETICS.

lipstick stains on a Diet Coke can, brass brushed hand mirrors, the echo of an empty theater, baby pink leg warmers, little white lies, long museum dates, empty wine bottles, showing up late with a large coffee, the lingering scent of Chanel No. 5, Greek tragedies, stacked gold jewelry, vintage designer handbags, book pages worn from multiple reads.

— RECENTLY PLAYED.

Amy Winehouse, Me And Mr. Jones.

Mitski, Drunk Walk Home.

Videoclub, Amour plastique.

Joep Beving, Sleeping Lotus.

Fiona Apple, Left Alone.

Hozier, Shrike.

Delibes, Coppelia: Act I - Ballade.

Tchaikovsky, The Sleeping Beauty, Op. 66, No. 4h - La fée de lilas.

— RELATIONSHIP TO GREER.

The roommates seemed like a duo from hell, both legacy students from Manhattan, daughters showered in privelege and beauty and secrets. Their fathers brushed shoulders at Manahattan dinner parties, and their mothers gossiped over brunch. They appeared to be friends since childhood, to anyone on the outside, or within their social circles, but there was always an emotional wall built between the two. Maybe because of the way Greer could never hide from Bella, never fully, and never her secrets, not even behind a locked door. Isabella was too observant, too aware, and all too keen on judging whoever came and went through suite 208. There was an arragement between the pair: as long as the space was respectful, clean, quiet in the mornings and calm in the evenings, the secrets would die on their way into the hallway. Bella knew she needed Greer, whether or not she liked the fact, and Greer knew she needed Bella, all the same.

— SKELETON TROPE.

Isabella ached an escape from her family name since she could remember, desparate for fame and a ballet career all of her own. Her mother’s family is known across South Korea, generations of wealth sparked by the country’s industrial revolution, and her father is known around New York City as an accountant for the elites. Their business deal of a marriage created their only daughter, their prized possession. Bella can admit she had it easy, best ballet academies and tutors to help with the endless missed school days, but she never planned to apply to Ogden, the way her father had, until a knee injury ended her dreams. A large donation to the school’s cultural studies department, and wouldn’t you know it? Easy acceptance, and now, she’s on her way to whichever arts related job she could wish for, thanks to her family names. 

— GENERAL.

FULL NAME: Isabella Areum Choi.

NICKNAMES: Bella, Iz, Ari (family).

BIRTH DATE: July 11, 2001.

ZODIAC: Cancer sun, Capricorn moon, Pisces rising.

ETHNICITY: Korean.

NATIONALITY: American.

LANGUAGES: English, Korean, French, German, Japanese.

ORIENTATION: Heterosexual heteroromantic.

— PHYSICAL.

HEIGHT: 5′5 / 167 cm.

HAIR COLOR: naturally black, currently with brown highlights throughout. 

EYE COLOR: dark brown.

TATTOOS: 111 on her inner forearm; ballet slippers on her ribcage; simple heart on her inner, left pointer finger.

PIERCINGS: first earlobe piercing on each ear.

CLOTHING: feminine and tacky; ballet and 90′s inspired, lots of florals; long skirts, frilly socks, mismatched patterns; tights and leg warmers; gold jewelry and a daily gold cross necklace (yes, insert religious trauma); doc martens, vintage handbags; whites, tans, browns, pinks. 

MAKE UP: a natural look; claw clips, messy pony tails, and pigtail braids; lip gloss and mascara; highlighter and cream blush for special occassions; also a fan of a lip tint or lipstick.

— PERSONALITY.

POSITIVES: passionate, devoted, intelligent, thoughtful, creative, trustworthy, insightful.

NEGATIVES: pessimistic, dramatic, pretentious, morbid, secretive, blunt, sarcastic.

SKILLS: crying on command, ballet, sewing/hemming. 

HOBBIES: practicing ballet, reading, yoga, listening to podcasts, jogging, watching films that make her cry, collecting vintage purses, currating oddly specific spotify playlists, daydreaming.

EXTRACURRICULARS: book club, art club.

EXTENDED: Bella has a soft heart underneath the staged exterior, though there’s very few to see the sensitive side of her. She can be patient, but stern with those close to her, caring for them in a way she craves to be cared for. She’s one for some tough love and blunt advice. Not the most cheerful person, she’s often quiet and reserved, preferring to speak with intention rather than to fill the silence. Her sarcasm can fly over people’s heads with her dry delivery, and she’s the type to give an answer as a joke before offering the truth. Hyperboles are common in her language, and frequently, she’ll enjoy drama for the sake of drama, confusion for the sake of confusion. She’s very closed off, even to people who have known her for years, yet those very close to her would know how lonely she is. She’s beginning to find comfort at Ogden, away from the constant purpose that was ballet, but at the end of the day, even if she won’t admit it to herself, she seeks acceptance amongst her peers.

— ABOUT.

Isabella comes from two lines of wealth, her mother’s family wealth spanning decades in South Korea and her father’s family wealth found working as a hedge fund manager. Anyone who’s anyone would know of the union of the Lee and Choi family and how it brought the Lee’s influence into America.

Her family’s the type to buy impeccible art pieces only to safely tuck them away in storage, own the building where they live in the penthouse suite, and slide through life on the zeros in their bank account. Their daughter never asked for anything, because it would be given before she asked. 

Since birth, a precious only child, Bella’s been sheltered away from the ugliness of the world. Sure, she was displayed at dinner parties and large gatherings, but her parents always kept her at arm’s length from many of her peers. Not that she’d have time in her schedule, anyway. Once her mom adored the idea of a ballerina daughter, her days began and ended with ballet lessons, tutoring and French lessons sprinkled into any spare moments.

She grew up with an intense adoration for the arts, and any kind she could get her hands on. Film, music, literature, theater, dance, opera — it consumed her, especially anything dreadful or emotional. As well as her dream of being a prima ballerina. There isn’t much of a story to tell, after all. She ate, slept, and breathed ballet, even regularly missing school and important social events doing so. Proms, dances, birthday parties, Christmas vacations; she wasn’t always allowed such luxuries, because she had to practice, of course.

Freshly 18, the dream she envisioned came falling down. Patellar tendonitis, or “jumper’s knee,” halted everything she’d been working towards, including her acceptance into Juilliard. Sure, she’d be able to dance, stretch, move, be active, with some physical therapy, but going up en pointe? Isabella had to tell her mother that she’ll never see her on stage ever again. Her last pair of pointe shoes are still hanging above her bed, in her dorm room.

Good thing daddy’s alma mater was easily swayed with some donation money, and Bella chose to study art history, maybe find a job at a museum or become a collector, like her mother. She’s still lost on her new dream, because her entire life revolved around the one thing she fully lost. With no more audience to impress, it was a fresh start, and it was frightening.

Things had begun to go well, a roommate that boosted her social status and a bunch of peers who fluttered at the thought of her family’s money. Until Greer went missing. Bella’s left confused, concerned. At first, she laughed; of course Greer took off. Sounds just like her. Now, the situation is no longer funny. She never thought she’d miss having a roommate, but her phone’s constantly on the news pages.

Currently, she’s trying to get through the semester, same as everyone else: spends her mornings in her daily routine, practicing ballet at the private ballet barre in her bedroom, attends her seminars and lectures, and secretly enjoying all the parties and events the school throws. 

#ogdenintro

[urdamage]

∘₊✧── desi calderon ; a memory before shrike heights

he was eleven years old ; he was exhausted , but he was more hungry than he was tired . he hadn’t seen his father for weeks ; the date marked for his return home was long gone , but so was his father still . it wasn’t the first time he had stayed away at work for longer periods of time than what he had told his son he would be needed for . desi had come to learn long before the age of eleven that the man’s word wasn’t reliable . 

he had as good as no money left , but it also wasn’t the first time that he had been in that position . he tried his very hardest to wake up before the sun itself , despite his exhaustion , and while he wasn’t exactly happy about it - because desi wasn’t sure he ever really experienced happiness in his childhood - he was glad that he had accomplished the task . dark blue was just beginning to be met with a deep orange as he stepped out of the house , shivering in the chilly morning air , but the bike ride to the market was a long one , he knew he’d warm up on the way . 

the sun could finally be seen upon his arrival at the market , though the sun was the last thing he was thinking of as the anxiety in his stomach left him feeling nauseous , and the nausea was incredibly powerful on such an empty stomach . he wheeled his bike alongside him as he walked - the last thing he needed was for somebody to take off with it if he parked it anywhere - and his eyes scanned the stalls , some of which were still being set up . he was looking for one in particular , and he happened to find that one much sooner than what his anxiety would have liked him to . 

he was there empty handed . he was there to ask for help , but in a roundabout way that wasn’t actually asking for help , because to ask for help was to show weakness , and desi needed to be brave , strong , capable . he was always so afraid of having to act like this only to survive , though he really didn’t need to be , not here . here , he always received help , but his feelings were still founded as in almost every other situation he found himself in , no help was given .

so many years later , desi doesn’t remember the conversation that took place , though it’s not only because of the time in between then and now , it’s because it was a conversation that happened often over the years . the typical exchange began with desi offering help , proposing a job in return for the produce they grew and sold there , or some other form of payment . the woman who owned the stall , elisabeth , never allowed him to properly work for her , believing him to be too young , but she always helped him in a way that didn’t make it feel like he was losing his strength . she saw something in him , be it the good heart or the terrible situation at home , and she did what she believed was best for him .  

she told him that she was overwhelmed with her work ; she told him that she never had the time to sort her produce or prepare for the set up before the market came , each and every time . she asked for his help to set up her stall , as she was growing old and worked slowly , and she asked him to help her take away any of the fruits and vegetables that looked overly odd or unattractive with ugly marks . he’d be sent away with not quite enough food to live off of until his father was back , but with an incredible amount , given the circumstances , that helped him through and helped him survive . without knowing it , he was also sent away with lessons on the importance and the value of kindness .

desi doesn’t think back to this period of time very often , but when he does , it’s the memories like these that he thinks back to . they’re bittersweet , he was in an awful position , but the help he received from people like elisabeth built him to be the man he is today , the man that is constantly trying to be good . desi is protective , he’s loyal , he looks out for people and he works hard to be there for those in need . desi is the legacy of those from his past such as elisabeth , desi is everything the neglected version of himself from his memories needed when he was younger . 

#neglect cw #abuse cw #starvation cw #mildly and again tagging for implications #∘₊✧────── desi calderon ; insight #insight #∘₊✧────── desi calderon ; musing #musing