#bastard can talk

[bubbytheliverstealingskeleton]

yippeeeeeee Ive finally reblogged everything to my new art blog

here it iss -- > @liverstealingskeleton

[artkaninchenbau]

People keep on asking for more Baby Robin and Papadile so here is more Baby Robin and Papadile. Now never ask anything from me ever again

[royalarchivist]

Fit: Oh yeah, the great outdoors! All we need is a can of beans, and we'll have a good time.

Phil: There's two empty seats, I can't remember what– who they're for though. [Snorts then leans off-screen and laughs]

Fit: [Slowly realizes what Phil said] ...No. No. No. No! No! NO! WE ARE NOT DOING THIS RIGHT NOW! WE ARE NOT DOING THIS, PHIL. Ok? We are not doing this.

Sneeg: Do you wanna talk about it...?

Phil: [Continues laughing]

Fit: No man, this- this man thinks trauma is funny. He thinks trauma is funny– He thinks interpersonal emotional trauma is funny! Yeah, we're all laughing, Phil. We're all laughing. Yeah– [Monotone voice] "Hahaha! So funny." So funny. So funny.

Sneeg: Alright, bro. Why don't you go–

Fit: Gaslight girlboss, right? Yeah, that's what we do, that's what we do.

Phil: Oh my god– [Exhales and laughs] That tickled me, that was a good one. Uh, right–

[teaboot]

I’m sending this anonymously but this is NOT anon hate

You are such a good person, i think. Your latest post(as of 4:10pm Arizona, US time) spoke to me really hard. My father is a cop, in the united states, arizona, duh. And he used to be such a good person, he was a security guard and a damn good one too, and later in he became a prison guard because it paid better, and then he joined the police force.

I’d like to think that hes one of the good ones, and for the most part he is. A lot of my delinquent friends over the years who’ve had run-ins with him say that he gets them breaks, he takes care of them, hes a good cop. I’ve even seen body camera footage of him in the field and i’m proud to say that hes my dad. He calls out bad actors where he sees them, and he gets punished for it. He doesnt see the system or how his punishments are by design. And he continues turning in his cog, begrudgingly, and slightly out of time, but he thinks hes making a difference

Sorry for the ramble and essay, i just wanted to say that i really like your blog and i think you are a very nice human being. Thank you for sharing your perspective.

P.s. i’m totally basing an oc off of your outlook on security. You strike me as more of a superhero than a security guard.

-🦕 anon

Oh, that’s a super flattering take and a valuable perspective- so thank you! But I’m a gullible dumbass, and not even an incredibly smart or fit one- I just want people to be happy and safe. That’s all. And I don’t want to BE a cop, I’ve NEVER wanted to be a cop, but every time the request comes around I feel like I’m wearing down.

I keep wondering if I could help MORE in a position like that.

Probably like your dad did.

Here, people know they’re safe with me because I shut down the gunhappy jerks, but I don’t know how long it would take to truly make a difference in public security, or how many of my morals I’d have to compromise to get to that point

I feel objectively like a system so archaic and flawed can’t be changed from the inside, but another part of me says that you don’t need to change an entire system to make a difference where it counts

I believe that so many bad situations and life-changing moments can be diverted or changed by a single person in the right place at the right time- and I figure, if I trust myself to do the right thing and BE the right person, shouldn’t I do my best to put myself in those places?

But good intentions, roads to hell, you know? I don’t WANT to be a cop. But I want to be able to DO SOMETHING about the thinks I dislike seeing in conflicts. SOMEONE has to be willing to do that, right?

I’m not religious, you know? But the devil can be very convincing

[obibail]

"He said that's your style. Never quite lies, clever half-truths that let you convince yourself you're doing the right thing."

[essektheylyss]

here's the thing about Ludinus Da'leth: if I was bombarded by shitty holographic televangelists at random on a daily basis on my way to the fucking grocery store, no matter what they were trying to sell me, I'd start biting.

[salem-sapiens]

Some more Frollo stuff I did during chemistry lesson instead of paying attention.

I'm definitely failing this class ( •ᴗ•)

[treahollow]

Finally decided to make a bit of a ref sheet for the riptide goobers bc I keep changing their designs every time I draw them. These are for post ep 87 btw, designs for before then will come in the near future (maybe).

Back sketches and alternative versions of the designs under cut (contains spoilers up to ep 115)

I also give you badly drawn Pretzel

[thearcanecat]

I found the Bastard’s Box!

Inside

[tainebot01]

You know, the AAI2 fandom’s insistence on referring to the characters by their fan localized names we’ve had for like a decade instead of the ones we received this week is really funny. It almost reminds me of something…

God damn it.

[banditblvd]

I finished my current sketchbook last night and wanted to post some of my favorite doodles in there :-)

there's so so many more in there that I didn't take photos if so I'm probably gonna post a bunch in phases

so I guess sketchbook reveal 1/?

[bubbytheliverstealingskeleton]

Yippeee I finished the animation/animatic thingy. Dunno which one it counts as, I say animation but idk

So I wasss gonna wait until I have everything off of my old phone so I could put all that stuff on my art blog but uhh nope. I’m just gonna reblog all my art there and then post the animation there

Mostly cause while I realllyyy like having a jumbled mess of a blog I thought I should probably have an art only blog for like

Idk

Just had the thought

[forcedhesitation]

astarion origin playthrough worth it just for all the extra moments where he does the "sad wet cat" face

[podcast-hemocytoblast]

tma au where the apocalypse ritual doesn’t work because there’s one (1) typo in the statement document at the very end. Like Jon reads the whole ritual but it fails because the last line says “I opem the door” and so the door opems (not a real word in English) instead of opening and from then on any time Jonah Magnus shows “his” face (not actually his, because he is old and a face-stealing whore) in public everyone points and laughs at him for making a typo in the evil fear apocalypse ritual

[zsbrainrot]

Quiet Mornings ❤️💙

[threepandas]

Bad End: Stolen

I was furious.

Terrified. Completely enraged. Sick to my stomach. Overwhelmed and yet expected to function. To keep my shaking hands smooth and screaming thoughts orderly. All I wanted to do want scream. Cry. Destroy and destroy, weep and RAGE.

Then hide in a closet under blankets until the monsters went away.

But... but he wasn't going too, was he?

"Ah, my honored Sister, how good of you to join me." Greets the murderer before me, voice cool and smooth like the scales of a snake. There is a gleefully victorious lilt to that voice. A curling possessiveness to the title.

I am not his sister. We are not ever REMOTELY related. It is not even a matter of me disowning him for what he's down. It is simple truth. We are not, by blood, related. We were not RAISED together. Our relation? A farce. A legal machination by my... my Father, oh gods... No! Don't get swallowed by the memories! T-The blood. Focus!!

Fafnir is... WAS just one of many promising, talented, ambitious young men with no father's that DEFINITELY were my Father's bastard sons, no really. He most certainly wasn't COLLECTING meritorious youth into our house, under his name, and training them up with his wealth and influence. To bypass the bullshit class system and give them a chance at better lives!

Maybe suggest they pay it forward.

My father would never be so duplicitous. No, no, he was just a very lustful man... that no one ever saw going out to have sex. Who's wife had never been the least bit upset with him. And to whom he was fiercely loyal. Yes. Very, very lustful my father... w-was.

It was just while the family continued it's work on opening up opportunities for the lower classes. Jobs and better quality of life. Hospitals and schools. Fighting against those who benefited from nothing changing. It was slow. Like pulling teeth. The work of lifetimes, he'd said. I... I was expected to help continue it.

I'd been GLAD too. So utterly RELIEVED I was reborn into a house with some fucking sense of RESPONSIBILITY. Duty and honor and taking care of people! Building up social services! I had grand plans. Even after recognizing, a little alarmed, that I was on the fringe of a god damned OTOME game of all things.

One I barely remembered. Had played, loved most likely, as a preteen. A literal lifetime ago.

It didn't effect me, right? I wasn't here for boys or parties. Politics or fanciful dreams. Let someone else have their lace filled, flower coated, high drama adventures of love. I had late night paperwork and community research. Surprise to orphanages and hospitals to insure their was no corruption or mischief going on.

That one health clinic in Oakworth that took forever to get going.

Except...

Except??

Fafnir was a capture target! Which is why it took me forever to realize. As he had been so very small and filthy at first. Then merely small and in poor health. Short hair because his poor hair had been beyond saving. We passed by each other. Nodded, maybe exchanged pleasantries, but did not truely interact.

He lived in the dorms. I lived in the main house. He was basicly a student my father was paying to have taught, using our name. I was my father's actual daughter. We may have LEGALLY been related. LEGALLY brother and sister. But in actuality? We were no such thing.

Honestly, most of the "Sons"? Kept their original last names in day to day life.

Or at least... they did.

I.. I think I had shit taste, as a preteen. That or my luck has finally run out. Maybe it was my family's fortune, that finally could no longer best the odds. After all, there is always one. That ONE soul. Who sees something good and doesn't care about anything or anyone but themselves. Ruins things for everyone.

As long as they get their's, right?

A sea of motivated and ambitious young men. Trying to change their station in life. Have Better and MORE. Change the world around them. Leave their marks. Is... ha! Is it any wonder, in hindsight, that our luck eventually gave out? It was always going too. I guess Fafnir just wanted MORE.

He was supposed to go to the Royal Academy, fall in love. Compete against prince's and duke's, knights and heirs to merchant companies. All for the heart of the only daughter of a Ducal house, that had been (of course) raised by peasants. A carriage accident and presumed death cliché.

I honestly couldn't even remember his route. I might have read about it. But had never PLAYED it. He had had short hair, all but two had. So I played the foriegn prince route, even though he was kind of an ass. He was a handsome one at least. At least to me. It was just, I had never... still never...

I liked men with long hair.

Something which I had never told anyone.

Yet? As Fafnir grew? He did not transition into the character I remembered, like the others had. He grew his hair out. Became not only fiercely protective of it, but invested in higher quality products to care for it. Discovered my favorite perfume maker and commissioned a cologne for himself, that would mix well with the scent I always wore. Systematically tracked down each and everything I've ever liked, behind my back, to consume and memorize every facet of them.

I was blind to it.

My Father was not.

And... a-and... it cost him his life.

Father was not pleased with want he saw. But assumed it was a crush at first. We were young after all. Young people do weird, awkward, over the line things. Are learning about boundaries even as they grapple with sudden floods of hormonal shifts. A terrible time, really. It could be excused. As long as it didn't go TOO far. So long as someone sat Fafnir down for a talk.

They did.

He got more subtle.

A cycle developed. One my Father was not pleased to see. Fafnir would cross boundaries, be caught, get scolded, and contritely apologize... then get more subtle in his approach. Be more clever. As though all he had learned was "don't get caught". and "if you want to get, what you want to have, you need to have the skills to get passed us."

He grew concerned. Eventually, alarmed. I had thought nothing of it, back then, because "of COURSE he was supposed to go" to the Royal Academy? But... we honestly, really, Truely? HADN'T sent anyone there before. And there HAD been far more skilled boy then him. Prodigies.

But... my favorite ribbon necklace had gone missing.

From the room where I slept.

Overnight.

My Father took one look at Fafnir's pleased expression amongst the chaos and needed no further proof. He would not kick him out. Far too dangerous, he thought. But he WOULD send him away. Now?

Now I wish he'd risked it. Because... because everyone was dead. Struck down by the monster we let into our home. And by ancient law, which we both KNEW he was planning to exploit? This was a... a "family matter". Because, after all, we WERE legally family. Members of the same House.

"Such hesitation, Sister. You'd think I was a threat." He muses into his cup of tea, swirling it lightly. His eyes flit back to me, lips curling just slightly. "Don't worry, though. I understand completely. I would never hurt you."

But he would hurt others. He already has. Most of them didn't survive it. Ha ha... like a brutal yank on some unseen leash. I want to cry. Not sure if this is what shock feels like. But yes, thank you, for the lovely remind, Fafnir. That you have filled my home with bodies. The corpses of those I loved.

I use what little dignity I have left to walk forward and sit down.

Oh look, he has utterly ruined all my favorite things in one blow. There, my favorite tea. That, my favorite flower. Across the table my favorite snacks. Even a few favorite fruits. A dish or two. My favorite cup. And now? N..NOW? All I will every be able to associate with them is death. The stench of copper and the horror of this moment.

The joy of them is gone.

"See? Isn't that better? No more standing awkwardly to the side. Now we can sit, face to magnificent face. I've brought you a few things I know you'll enjoy. Isn't that nice? I've wanted to do this for the longest time." He sighs in contentment, as though this were no more then a matter of busy schedules and social anxiety. "And now? Now we are finally together. Siblings for now, but I am working to fix that. And if i can't, well..."

His smirk was a thing of nightmares.

"I'm head of the house now. You're finally Mine."