#emberstask

[hovergrove]

WELCOME TO EMBERS HIGH....HUDSON OVERGROVE!

A scholarship student at the local college, Hudson came into school knowing they wanted to major in education. As a freshman, they spent last year volunteering in the kindergarten classroom at the local elementary school. This year, however, they’ve made the leap to high school, and though Hudson themself is a teenager who gets along better with adults, they truly underestimated just how—much a school full of teenagers can be. But it’s not all bad: they’ve got a crush, and a new interest in sign language.

WHERE YOU CAN FIND THEM: Their assigned position in Griffin’s classroom, hiding in Nurse Singe’s office when the teenagers get to be too much, helping out with any extracurricular that will have them (with special interest in Robotics Club 👀), really spending way too much time at Embers High for someone who works there part-time, unpaid, and has classes and homework of their own.

WHERE THEY ARE AFTER SCHOOL: Living in a run-down off-campus house with way too many roommates, babysitting for some extra cash, being a polite dinner guest at the house of any Embers High teacher that will save them from a night of ramen or dining hall french fries, not going to nearly enough frat parties for a college student.

[deezeeashfrost]

MEET THE EMBERS HIGH STAFF: ENVIRONMENTAL SCIENCE TEACHER, DEEZEE ASHFROST

Ashfrost is a name anyone at Embers High knows, for better or for worse. Chuck Ashfrost has worked as the head cook in the cafeteria for thirty years, bringing in fresh food from the family’s farm, and there’s been a steady stream of Ashfrosts coming through the school since him and his brother. Of the most recent batch, the name DeeZee Ashfrost is bound to conjure up the most sighs, but also the best stories. He was known at Embers High for being too loud in class, throwing parties on his family’s farm, and getting kicked off the football team for being too rough and not following directions. When he graduated, college was mostly the same, until an accident on the farm left him one arm short, serving as something of a wakeup call that he might be wasting some of his potential. After his initial recovery, he went back to school for environmental science, and got big into the activism scene. It wasn’t necessarily the plan to end up a high school teacher, but after one too many arrests at protests––all charges eventually dropped––his uncle Chuck suggested he come back to Embers High and pass some of his passion along to the next generation in a little less dangerous way, which he at first begrudgingly did, but now he kind of loves it, at least most of the time. His youngest brother, Bo, is currently a senior at Embers High, and wishes he could change his last name on the daily.

WHERE YOU CAN FIND HIM: Ranting and raving to any student who wants to listen, he has a weird little cult following of conspiracy theorist students who flock to his classroom like church during lunch. Making guest appearances at debate practice to have (friendly) arguments with Aldera. Bothering Pista in the shop, and in the gym. Shouting at his wrestlers to fight harder, and stop worrying about hurting each other.

WHAT’S IT LIKE IN CLASS: Absolutely wild, and fairly inconsistent. Some days are filled with busy work, and stupid by the textbook activities, while DeeZee sits at his desk with his feet kicked up. Others are full of passionate lectures with the best damn powerpoints you’ve ever laid your eyes on, engrossing facts, and real world anecdotes to back up his knowledge. And sometimes, it’s just full on conspiracy theories, and reasons why the government, and big corporations have positively fucked all life on the plant Earth over to earn money, no powerpoints, no textbooks, more like a weird performance art piece in the form of a forty-five minute rant. Usually entertaining, no matter what.

WHERE HE IS AFTER SCHOOL: At his parents’ farm, helping them out with the animals. Taking care of his many, many chickens in his backyard. Bothering Pista not at school, too. Shouting until his voice is gone at political rallies for environmental and animal rights. Partying hard, but not too hard, because hangovers are a bitch when you get into your thirties, he’s learned.

[twigelphineson]

WELCOME TO EMBERS HIGH....TWIG ELPHINESON!

Twig Elphineson never meant to be a teacher. He grew up in the woods, with parents who taught him the basics of metal forging and woodworking and with a rotating door of foster siblings, but he always had his sights set on more. At first, he thought it’d be professional soccer, and he spent a few years after graduation toiling away in the minor minor leagues before realizing that wouldn’t happen for him. After that, he spent some time backpacking—read: partying—around the world until he ran out of money and his parents wouldn’t foot the bill anymore. He became a teacher after coming home: it wasn’t something he ever dreamed of, but it was the first steady job he had, and a long time later, he’s still doing it. Teaching students how to make lopsided birdhouses isn’t a full-time courseload, so he picks up a ton in the way of extracurriculars: coaching boys soccer, building sets for the school plays, assistant coaching for any sport that needs it in the spring. And if anything breaks around school, he’s also a passable handyman.

WHERE YOU CAN FIND HIM: Covered in sawdust in staff meetings, constantly forgetting to take off his protective eyewear when he’s not in his classroom, schmoozing the principal to try and get better equipment for his class (and not at all because he wants to use it himself).

WHAT IT’S LIKE IN HIS CLASS: Twig has one rule in class: Safety First. Some people think he’s stern, some people think he’s boring, but he’s not fucking around when it comes to teenagers and power tools. He’s also not trying to tell his students anything about his personal life. The soccer team knows him best, because he can’t keep his competitive side under wraps. Among them, he’s known best for his rivalries with other area coaches, and how colorfully he can curse when they lose.

WHERE HE IS AFTER SCHOOL: Working on his home forge/studio, selling custom furniture on Etsy, in an on-again, off-again relationship with Harbor Gazel that would be nobody’s business, if only a Mockingjay hadn’t seen them together in town and started a persistent rumor around school that it was Twig and Robyn.

[silverostro]

MEET THE EMBERS HIGH STAFF: CHEMISTRY TEACHER, SILVER OSTRO

No one seems to know anything about Silver Ostro’s life before taking up the open chemistry teacher position, no one seems to know anything about what they do outside of school hours, and they like to keep it that way. Silver Ostro is content with their perfectly boring, and happy life. They didn’t necessarily plan on becoming a teacher, never truly seeing themself as someone who is very skilled at passing on knowledge when their own is so deep it feels impossible to explain sometimes, but the small, very quiet fortune they accidentally managed to amass after selling one of their formulas to a chemical firm just out of their masters degree gave them the flexibility they didn’t realize they wanted in life. After spending the better part of a decade working on personal projects, and perhaps accidentally accumulating a bit more wealth, even if they made a few massive mistakes they don’t like to talk about in the process, they finally decided to get their teaching license so that they could settle into something more stable. Stability is what they’ve always been seeking, after all. And an opening several years ago at the school a dear friend of theirs worked at was enough for them to develop something of a passion for shaping young minds suddenly...

WHERE YOU CAN FIND THEM: Grading papers and working on lesson plans in their classroom, avoiding the teacher’s lounge at all costs. Leaning against the circulation desk in the library, writing in their moleskin notebook, and exchanging knowing looks with the hot librarian. Turning the chemistry lab into a robotics lab in the afternoons whether any students show up to Robotics Club or not, to indulge in their own other interests.

WHAT’S IT LIKE IN THE CHEMISTRY LAB: Sterile and perfectly clean, everything in its place. Their classes are considered the most difficult in the science department, if not the school at large, but anyone who’s serious enough to pay attention leaves their classes in awe, with a brain full of good, good knowledge. A great deal of hands on learning with plenty of dangerous chemicals, and a cautionary tale in the form of their conspicuously missing index finger and the many wild, and never confirmed, rumors about how they might’ve lost it, all earning them the cheeky nickname of Heisenberg by students.

WHERE THEY ARE AFTER SCHOOL: In their office slash workroom at home programming and tinkering with electronics. Experimenting with wild and sometimes dangerous kitchen chemistry to make ridiculously fancy, modern dinners. Being disgustingly romantic with their partner, Robyn. Trying to keep the peace between their Sphynx cat, Iago, and Robyn’s dog, Othello, with their newly shared living arrangements.

[dcwnhardin]

MEET THE EMBERS HIGH STAFF: GUIDANCE COUNSELOR, DR. DAWN HARDIN

Way back when, most of Dawn Hardin’s classmates were surprised when he dropped his visual arts major in favor of psychology, after ending up with a full ride to art school from his high school painting portfolio. Anyone who knew him wasn’t surprised in the least, his parents having been more excited about making his artistic talent his career than he was. Ten years later, most of Dr. Dawn Hardin’s old colleagues were surprised when he closed his private practice only a few years after opening it to instead go and work as the guidance counselor at Embers High, but anyone who knew Dawn personally wasn’t surprised in the least. The adoption process is difficult, to say the least, for someone who’s single, no matter how successful, and the discouragement from dealing with the system unsuccessfully led him to search for fulfillment in other ways. There was no way not to notice that several of his teenage patients came from the same school, which formed the idea of finding a way to help more kids who needed the specific kind of support he’s always been an expert at providing. He didn’t realize so many of the adults around might need it, too, but his office door is always open to anyone who needs an ear, and a nice cup of tea.

WHERE YOU CAN FIND HIM: Guiding any and every student through teenage crises both academic and personal, doing the same for the staff, too, on the down low. Spending more time sketching between talking to students than doing the paperwork he needs to do. Sitting in the front row of football games enthusiastically pretending he understands the rules. Sewing and/or painting for the Drama Club, usually in the woodworking shop either way.

WHAT’S IT LIKE IN THE GUIDANCE COUNSELOR’S OFFICE: Cozy and comforting, more like a therapist’s office than a guidance counselor’s office, with lots of tissues, a seemingly endless supply of tea, and a fresh batch of whatever baked good Dawn’s been perfecting at home. The other most likely place to find students crying besides outside of gym class.

WHERE HE IS AFTER SCHOOL: Spending too much time thrifting for the Drama Club’s costumes. Volunteering his mental health services at the local shelter. Baking enough to feed an army, or painting barefoot on his porch. Cuddling on the couch with his cat, Vincent van Gogh, and only his cat, certainly not an infamous football coach he’s been known to be seen at Home Depot with or anything.

[embersrpg]

𝐎𝐡, 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞...

Letters. They’re intimate. They’re special. Most importantly, they’re safe from lingering ears. Over the years, letters have become such a personal thing to express your concern and love from those who might not be so close to you.

What are those letters you’ve written? How much did you confess? Or do you whish you’d said more?

OOC INFORMATION FOUND BELOW

We’re starting it off simple yet gut wrenching. I believe someone mentioned this in the most recent feedback for so thank you! And on top of that, you guys had been saying you wanted more chance for flashback threads to solidify previous connections. While I would love that, it might be a while before I can provide that opportunity again. In the meantime, here’s a letters task!

It’s pretty straight forward, it’s just your character writing letters to those important to them. Could be NPCs, could be characters in-game. It’s all loosey-goosey.

This is 100% optional, and there is no dead-line required to finish it. I would just ask you challenge yourself to write letters for multiple characters, and use this as an opportunity to flesh out less developed connections. If you choose to do this, please don’t just write one letter for your closest connection (though we’d love to see it, please try and write in addition to that one)

QUICK INFO

Begin date: now

Date of completion: None

Required: No

Tag: emberstask

Please post in the ‘task’ channel on discord after posting

[hcllisfm]

— love languages

click to enlarge

[virgobydcsign]

task 001 -- who do you love?  

The most obvious answer would be their mother, but she’s not the only one. Maybe not even the most prominent anymore. Many fit this category in a million tiny ways. They love the florist who remembers they like the pink daisies not the white; they love the boy they met on the street who said he liked their bracelets, they gave him one to prove it; they even love their father’s wife, in a way, for the honesty that comes with her dislike of them. But none of those are who come to mind when the question is asked. 

Tarra Flatleaf (capitol, formerly district seven)

A stalwart presence throughout their childhood, the avox Tarra is Virgo’s weakness. On the nights where their mother worked and they woke from a nightmare, he would bring hot chocolate and stand guard by the door until their fear subsided. Though there seemed to be a revolving door of staff in their youth, Tarra was the one constant. Virgo assumed for a long while that he was as much their mother’s favourite as their own.

As Virgo grew, so did their curiosity. They’d never given much thought to how or why Tarra came to be in their service, having an avox around was nothing unusual in the circles they ran with. He rarely showed them a face that wasn’t a happy one. Only once in their memory can Virgo remember a real switch. 

They were ten, and watching the coverage of the 65th Games. Virgo hid behind a cushion while the girl onscreen did her brutal work. A strange, guttural noise startled them. When they looked up they saw Tarra, stricken, the bright light of the screen reflecting twin tracks of wetness down his cheeks. Instinctively they wanted to call their mother, because she’d know what to do. Fire him, or worse, and Virgo knew that but didn’t really understand. They were young, and easily distracted. The sound of a canon from the screen was enough that they forgot in an instant and flipped to annoyance that they’d missed the action.

Eight years on and Tarra was still with them. Virgo was older, braver, determined to solve a problem whose consequences eluded them. They’d always thought it unfair that for everything they’d said to Tarra, they’d never heard a word back. So they took a notebook, a pen, and their patience, and got to work. Simple notes at first, left under their pillow in the morning. It was a few weeks before they tried prompting Tarra to write in response and another month before they got their wish. Slowly but surely, they began to learn the story behind the silence. 

Taking a cue from their closest friend, Virgo has never told a soul.