#♣. ANSWERS.

[canisalbus]

The little Courage the cowardly dog-esque paws on this drawing just sent me for some reason I'm so sorry I just had to quickly doodle a little Machete the cowardly dog XD

.

[dyshonor]

"A moment of your time!" Emcee catches up to you before you can disperse to your room or rejoin with your teammates, or wherever else it is you're heading off to.

"This way, this way." The strange host ushers you into a small shack, curtained off from the outside. They offer you a chair and a bright lamp hangs overhead.

"Now then," they start, positioning themselves across from you. "How do you feel about being eliminated this week? What do you want to tell your remaining teammates?"

In their hand is a voice amplifying stick, which they hold out to you now.

-- RANDAL BLINKS AS THE... thing, really, runs up to him, stick in hand and poised for interview. It's certainly been a hot second or ten since someone has run up to him with such blatant eagerness-- or at least, with (seemingly) positive intent. He ruffles through expressions and picks the toothiest one he can find.

"Ah! Just th' fellow I wanted ta see," he says, quick to take a seat and fit the situation. "Eliminated- eh, ain't the swellest o' feelings, but makin' it halfway ain't awful, no?" He shrugs. "I do feel a touch deceived by you in particular, though. That whole," and he throws his voice higher in a half-mockery of Emcee's, "'ladies n' gentlemen, we have a winner!' nonsense? I was foolhearty enough t'think it might've pertained t'me, but."

He sighs with all the energy of a man that does not mean it, over the top and deflating. "'gardless, I had m'fun. I'll simply hafta do with what I can find in th' losers bracket." Randal stands up, leans on his knees. "Fer all th' boogles out still kickin', which ain't many nowadays: give 'em hell, if yer able. However y'play, don't be cowards 'bout it, alright?"

[screwslooseboozer]

　@demondrank GAMBLED! : " what the fuck? if this is some shapeshiftin' bullshit, knock it the fuck off. "

　" If it is, then one of us is pretty bad at it, cause you look like you'd go down with a stiff breeze. You need a sandwich, motherfucker, you're makin' me hungry just lookin' at you. "

[unknownarmageddon]

can you do dream? 🏳️‍🌈

-♣

dream i think is pan and either genderfluid or bigender or something like that to me :]

also like the idea of transfem dream but to me that’s a separate scenario

[rietveild]

hello hello — i will be going on a lil road trip/vacay with friends from thursday night-monday night so i'll be a bit quiet ooc and ic !! i'll have my phone but not my laptop, so i'll be around on mobile aka discord + wire ( albeit sporadically ) but i won't really be posting formatted replies here !

[pluviacuratio-a]

♣ for funsies:

what animal do you relate bella to?

[skater-brain]

[ 🔮 ] what is your muse’s relationship with religion and spirituality? were they raised in a certain religion? have they stuck with the same set of spiritual beliefs all their life, or have they changed over time? are they settled in their spirituality now?

[x]

✨︎ Like most Japanese people, Beat was raised with a marriage of Shinto and Buddhist customs, but does not consider himself religious. He's never really given spirituality or a higher power any deep thought, he just adheres to those rituals and that understanding of the world because he grew up with it all around him and it feels natural. That said, even if he ever had any sort of theological inklings or education in world religions, his current "religion" is entrenched in his cultural identity and unlikely to be displaced by something else.

✨︎ His mother in particular is a stickler for being visibly and devoutly adherent to traditional religious customs, so despite not consciously holding any strong spiritual beliefs himself, Beat inherited a bit of an exaggerated sense of "this is just how things are, this is just what you do" in relation to observances, shrine visits, ceremonies, etc. He's much more reverent at religious sites and events than most people would assume of a rebellious teen.

[howdyneighborr]

Tweek: ’ How many next times are there gonna be? ’ (for kenny and/or clyde >:) )

@troublcmakcrs

The two men—the intended targets of the singular question—stood and sat, respectively; juxtaposed in their expression of guilt. Or, lack thereof.

Clyde posed coolly against the framed entrance of their tiny kitchen. He put all his effort into concentrating on the small bubbles under the white paint haphazardly slathered over the cheap wood across from him. Directly in his eye-line, the tiny imperfections diverted and distracted his attention. If his arms hadn't been folded across his chest, shielding himself as Tweek began to tear into Kenny's hide, he might have absently picked and peeled the decrepit Landlord's Special paint job. After all, he didn't really have to be here. Kenny needed the intervention. Clyde only contributed to his share of rent. And was banging them both. But other than that, he felt no responsibility for the opening of Pandora's box. He avoided eye contact with his seated partner, and he could feel Kenny doing the same. Clyde half-expected, if he were to steal a glance at Kenny, to see cartoonish lines of tension drawn over his hanging head. The standing brunette refused to believe he had any part in this other than being an observer. He would deny all allegations as an enabler—as he always had, anyway. He kept his mouth shut and stayed a safe distance as the squabble roiled to a head.

Kenny leaned forward over his knees, feeling small and sick. He sat curled around himself until he could bear to raise his chin. When the wave of guilt-induced nausea ebbed, the skinny blonde rested the point of his jaw in his hands and stared up from the couch at Tweek. He wanted to chuck a pillow, stuffed with blame and accusation, across the room at the good-for-nothing bartender. Even still, when the thought formed in his head, he regretted feeling that way towards the other man. Ken knew the responsibility lay mostly on his own shoulders. Not throwing Clyde under the bus or even turning to face him for backup took every bit of Kenny's resolve. He knew the other man would male a slick remark and weasel his way out of the room  Kenny was surprised he hadn't made an escape already. He knew Clyde would slough off the accountability regardless. He also knew the time for making excuses had passed and he should start fixing his mistakes. Clyde could do whatever the fuck he wanted. Treat Tweek, treat him, the way he wanted. He would only have himself to blame when he had to sleep on the couch. Or with whoever would take him in. Clyde could make his own bed, but Kenny– He was tired of coming home, or waking up, or getting a text from a disappointed Tweek. 

That amalgam of factors ultimately stopped him from casting his sad, blue plea for help in Clyde's direction; Kenny knew he would find no comfort. And that was okay. He was an adult, not a giant man-child like Clyde. Okay, now that thought felt good. Albeit a bit internally vindicated, Kenny couldn’t shake feeling like a piece of shit, but weren't they both? Wasn't that what else had caused this? No one owning up to their own bullshit, history dooming itself to be repeated? With a whump and a sigh, his back hit the sofa cushions and his legs extended in Tweek's direction; an invitation and the very picture of man-spread. Wallowing wouldn’t un-fuck or un-drink anything. With a puckish grin, the lounging blonde was the first to respond.

“Can you be a little more clear about which specific fuck-up you're pissed about right now? I’ve kind of done a lot of shit lately…”

[qunz1]

@starfiaer said: "who taught you how to do that?"

she enjoyed the stretch and pull of muscle as her body doubled over backward, hands and feet firmly planted on the ground before she kicked off, turning the world upside down. harley didn't miss a beat at the question, walking closer to the woman with one hand in front of the other. she imagined herself something akin to a horror movie creature, and the imagine in her head brought a chuckle out of her.

"i had this coach in college," she began, disdain lacing her tone at the memory of him, "who made us all walk the length of the gym on just our hands every day to 'build core strength' or somethin'," she rolled her eyes, letting herself fall forward into a roll before popping up onto her feet. "i had blisters for months!"

[painofhumanity]

The only person Alice loves as much as--if not more than--Bruce, is Alfred. He's the only other person who she felt immediately safe around, and he treated her like a child from the moment he met her; Alfred didn't care that the young miss could warp reality or read minds, he was still going to make sure she brushed her teeth and got to bed at a reasonable time, but he was always gentle with her. Before she was ready to go to school, Alfred was also who she spent the most time with, which was often her following him around the house as he worked, asking him questions about what he was doing and just life in general.

[askcupsandcasinos]

(i swear the next one will answer an ask. just gotta get through all this plot (: )

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[dyshonor]

[ 𝐁𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐇 ] + [reversed] ― She had a rough day. It's all up to you Randal!!

receiver brushes sender ’s hair

-- RANDAL'S RELATIONSHIP WITH HAIR is an odd one: he didn't care, then cared violently, then let it be as it may all over again. When he had forced himself into the rules and niceties of being a lord after tripping his way into it, he had sat himself down and decided that it was a necessity. Ruffled collars needed groomed hair to match, and the ribbon he had come into possession of looked far nicer when framed against the tickling ends on his neck.

Before meeting with those others who hopped through worlds, he had cared about it only enough to look more dashing than the other blokes who offered themselves up for coin. If gambling had taught him nothing else, it was that first impressions were an important first step in any game. Randal was far more likely to get hired if he had bothered to run a brush through his hair the night before.

But then- after meeting?

Now, Randal holds the brush like a tool of the trade. Emma sits in front of him, shoulders tense and pinched violently. Her normally perfect braids have been undone, coming apart in gentle waves over the small of her back. It always surprises him how long it gets, when she isn't tying it up for war.

She is stressed. About what? Randal hasn't the faintest idea. It's a coin's flip as to whether she'll tell him, and that part doesn't particularly matter.

What matters is that she had knocked on his dorm room with a pout on her lips and a frustration that struggled to find its way out- and, a braid half-done, frantic and messy. Given up with in a fit of anger or sadness or other.

Shade's far better at this than he is. Despite the fact that her own hair was rarely up, the lengths that it had been grown out to were not ones that were reached by carelessness. She was the one who would massage burrs out of Emma's hair when they got stuck in them, who would lather the girl's hair with fingers more delicate than Randal's.

Shade was the one who did a good job, when Emma was in need of it. But Shade isn't here, not now.

"Pair o' colts got birthed, this mornin'," Randal says instead of everything that he's thinking. "Startled my mare awful terrible. Couldn't take her out t'ride 'till after lunch, the way she kept pawing at the ground. And, who can blame her?" He shrugs. His voice is low, speaking with a pace that matches the pattern of his brush strokes. "I'd find it hard t'know what t'do with myself, if someone shat two kids right outside m'window."

Stroke, gather, again. Emma's signature ribbon rests across his wrist, ready to be used when he finishes.

[screwslooseboozer]

Hey skeptic, there is someone going around telling people you are a proshipper and to stop writing with you. I am one of those people and I've seen one or two people make a post referancing anon hate so I'm assuming they got those as well? Just letting you know so if you suddenly start getting blocked by mutuals, that might be why.

　GASP!!!! ME?????

　SOMEONE WHO BELIEVES FICTION IS NOT ON A ONE - TO - ONE SCALE WITH REALITY??????

　ME????????

　OH MY GOD WHO WOULD SAY SUCH A THING!!!!!

　I don't care. Follow me or don't. Be an adult and make your own decisions, okay? While I may not be happy about it, if a mutual decides what's best for them is to not have me around, I'm not going to stop them from setting that boundary. Your own health comes before the little fictional characters we bang against one another in our free time.

[unknownarmageddon]

you say you aren't much of a dream guy but I don't know man, youre a pretty dreamy guy /p /lh /lh /lh

-♣

WEEPING

[rietveild]

puts a toddler in Kaz’s office just to see what he does

what the fuck — it's all that kaz can think as he steps into his office to see a small boy with curly brown hair and wide blue eyes standing next to his desk. he'd kept everything locked when he left, there was no way for a measly toddler to get past the security, not just of his office but of the slat. some of the dregs had children, the toddler could have belonged to one of them but kaz would have thought they'd all have known better than to let their children disturb his things in his absence.

his heart lurches with something in between excitement and dread — had the wraith returned ? had this been her idea of a joke ? was she going to pop out any second and recite some old suli wisdom about saving orphans ? of course not. he buries any hope as soon as it threatens to bloom. he would have sensed her if it were inej.

kaz softens his tone, puts on a small smile, and lowers himself so that he can look him in the eye. ❝ who might you be ? ❞ the child responds by stretching out a hand and palming at kaz's face. he scowls at the toddler and leers back in disgust, narrowly dodging a spit-soaked clap to the cheek.

❛ mon..ster ? ❜ the boy asks, his eyes growing wide.

kaz laughs, ❝ i am. and i'm going to kill your mommy or daddy for letting you in here. ❞ he rises to his feet once more and casts a glance out the door, ❝ jesper ! you're on babysitting duty ! give the little cretin a lollipop and keep him entertained while i figure out who he belongs to. ❞

he didn't really plan to orphan the boy, but he was more than prepared to break a bone or two in order to re-establish a few ground rules.

[pluviacuratio-a]

♣ chanting NEW BANNERS NEW BANNERS NEW BANNERS-