#priscilla's final petal sfth

[svnnyd4ys]

shoot from the hip as headlines pt 5(?) - Tom's characters special <3

[pan-tran-dndfan]

Been watching a bunch of Shoot from the Hip's plays a lot lately, and I forgot how many amazing quotes there are

"That's pretty much all witches are really, just drug dealers with a bit more, you know, va va voom."

"Everyone thinks we're all nice and friendly so they don't see it coming when you say 'Oh, would you like a nice cup of tea?' And then you stab them."

"They're afraid you're losing your touch" "Oh, Pish" "Yes, Pish is very upset with you."

"My body is a temple to destruction. AN ENGINE OF WAR- I'm not done. A PYRAMID HOUSING THE HATRED OF THOUSANDS. A STADIUM WITH A ROAR OF RAGE, BECOMES THE BITTER JUICE OF DESOLATION. MAKE A CUCKHOLDRESS OF ME. ENGORGE HIM- no, wait- ENGORGE HER, AND HAVE YOURS3LF ENTER HER TONIGHT. I feel a bit faint-"

"HUSBAND! HUSBAND! THE CHINCHILLA'S A FUCKING NAZI!"

The fact they improvise this is genuinely amazing to me, SFTH are a national treasure

[iamonlypartlymajestic]

Guess who's back! Back again! With more SFTH AJ art because I have hyperfixated on a muscular bald British funny man.

So here is my gallery of AJ playing iconic female characters in longforms (or most of them, anyway)

Close Ups:

[brunette-gremlin]

while Hugh and Priscilla are innately well-developed, amazing, and adorable child characters, there exists a certain comedic angle when you realize that these german prepubescents going through a very tough time in their lives regarding their parent's identity; they are also played by a 6 foot, muscular, bearded, bald man who probably looks like the manliest man in any european nation.

Like the comedic manifestation of all people, fucking AJ is the one playing a traumatized 8 year old girl who thinks a flower will protect her.

[artstantpansies]

finally realized i don't have to choose between my love of traditional art and my love of tumblr incorrect quotes. sfth hand drawn meme blast (character ids in alt)

[dingdinghq]

all sfth knows is play sad, traumatized children and LIE

[mikkstaape]

Trying to get used to posting any and all art everywhere if possible 😸

My shaylaaaa 😭😭

[i-may-be-an-emu]

Priscilla edit because every time I hear this sound I think of her

[practicedvmm13fullofpotatoes]

Shoutout to the times AJ just burst out into singing. His voice in general is just such a brainworm for me

[farraday-yes]

I inflicted this in the discord so I will inflict it on Tumblr as well: SFTH Character Ghost Hunting Show AU

(Brought to you by a Phasmophobia stream I recently watched)

The working cast is

Titch (TUA) - the skeptic/host

Derek (TUA) - camera man

Samantha (Egbert’s Wife, TLW) - resident medium

Jimmy (TSP) - scaredy cat/intern

Older!Julian (PoH) - supernatural informationist/other intern

Titch gets away from the family business to run a local history/nature show but ends up turning into a ghost hunting show. He meets Derek as a camera man first. Julian was his first hire followed by Samantha and, recently, Jimmy who is doing a summer internship.

Julian’s play takes place and so does Jimmy’s. After the events of TSP, Jimmy was advised to take a leave of absence. He was originally hired to be a body guard/security specialist but that plan went off the rails. Titch still hired him though since the kid seemed spooked in his own skin.

Samantha’s play doesn’t take place but she still has her family’s weird family values and dynamics. Egbert’s is in the military and Samantha didn’t want the life of a military wife. She left everything and took the first supernatural-esque job because 1) it’s easy money and 2) she’s the most goddamn authentic “medium” then any other schnub they might hire.

Extra shit:

If I ever write this, it would open up in a tour of various haunts in (unspecified country so I can use both European and American sites since space is fake). They’re on episode 10 of this show and every other one was a dud.

Titch ensures the show is 100% honest and talks about things like “that previous house had a gas leak, people ate shrooms near here, this building’s wiring is way out of code.” He does play the skeptic after all.

Jimmy overreacts to everything but he’s also the fan favorite. It also adds a nice comedy to everything.

Samantha is pretty done with everyone. She makes sure Jimmy and Julian don’t get into trouble like the big sister she is.

Julian is a baby duck by Titch’s side and does want to pursue a career in supernatural television (mostly because I love the “TV Show” bit with Father Andrews haha).

Derek is the camera man/video editor. He’s 100% responsible why most of the scenes focus on Titch even if he’s not the main focus of the shot. That’s why he makes sure he’s the editor so nobody has to see all of that.

Now their show is nearly the end of its current run and no actual supernatural stuff. (Though Samantha was very insistent there were some in Episode 3.) Episode 10’s stop?

The Langbrook Manor, home to the mysterious deaths of the Langbrook family and the equally mysterious disappearance of the previous Lady, Annabelle.

Their “no supernatural” streak ends there.

This has been on my thoughts all night.

[svnnyd4ys]

sfth character headlines - AJ edition <33

[haveihitanerve]

Priscilla's Final Petal

He said he loved her.

That was the thought ricocheting around in Cilla’s head as she wandered the empty halls of Saxony Manor, a glass of brandy cradled in one hand. She usually tended to opt for lighter drinks, but tonight called for something harsher. Something that burned. She needed the sharp sting of alcohol for the gloom of this eve.

Earl was out, going through a stroll through the garden, off to plant another one of his incessant buttercups at her grave.

Buttercups. Cilla shuddered, setting her half empty glass on the windowsill as she peered out into the ice chilled night. Frost had built up, crackling along the edges of the windowpane and she drew a lazy finger through it, tracing random shapes.

It had been four years now. Four. Why was he still…

Cilla withdrew, frustrated, heading off again down the hallway. She was already around the corner when she realized she’d left her drink behind. She halted for a moment, torn between her desire to pace, to move, to get away, and the need for the soothing burn of the liquor.

Before she could make her choice, a wail pierced the air. Cilla set off, relieved by the excuse not to have to make a decision, and rushed into the nursery.

They had released the nanny a few days ago, and while a few tasks that now fell to Cilla were… unpleasant, she much preferred the more intimate contact she got to spend with her daughter, rather than the nanny.

She knew it wasn't usual, for a woman of her standing, and the nanny had given her quite a few snide looks over the past few years, every time Cilla tried to hold her daughter, burp her, do any basic motherly things, but that could have also been do to… other reasons.

Cilla reached the nursery and rushed to her daughters bed.

“Shhhh.” She cooed, smiling gently as she wiped the few stray tears that had escaped her daughters eyes. “Shhhh, its alright Priscilla, I’m here. Mummy’s here.”

She slid her hands underneath Priscilla’s body, hefting her up and into her arms.

“Mummy.” Priscilla murmured, legs kicking fitfully as she buried her head into Cilla’s neck.

“Are you alright, my darling?” Cilla murmured, rocking slowly back and forth.

“Mm.” Priscilla hummed in response, pressing closer. “Had a nightmare.” She whispered, like it was a grave secret.

“Oh?” Cilla swallowed, tucking her daughter closer. “About the woman again?” She asked, trying to calm her pounding heart as much as she was her daughter.

“Mhm.” Priscilla nodded, tiny arms circling around Cilla’s neck. “I don't like her Mummy.” She whispered. “She’s scary.”

And as much as the words comforted Cilla, they were simultaneously like daggers to her heart. Twisting. Sharp. Jagged.

She tried her best, of course she did. She loved Priscilla, loved her like her own daughter. She was her own daughter, as far as Cilla and the public was concerned.

But she could never quite silence that whisper, that curling thread of guilt, that she was a horrible mother. That she didn't quite deserve the title. That one day it would all come crashing down.

But that was foolish. It wasn’t like Earl still visited Annabelle’s grave or anything. Even four years later. It wasn’t as though he still had Rumpled employed, while the rest of the staff was slowly being let go.

What if Annabelle, despite all her faults, was everything Cilla wasn't? Her arms tightened around Priscilla, already on her way back into dreamland in her arms.

Cilla felt tears choke her throat, the way they so often did when her thoughts turned like this. Which they did far too frequently.

She was trying. Trying so hard to do the dead woman justice in the only way she could.

She’d hated the woman, hated her with every breath of her being, but she was still trying to give her daughter everything. Trying to do her justice, one mother to another. But was it enough? Would it ever be enough?

Cilla rocked a little faster, clutching Priscilla in her arms. No one was taking her daughter from her. No one. Especially not a cold, dead woman.

Cilla turned sharply on one heel, heading back out into the hallway. Priscilla shifted, but stayed asleep, fully relaxed in her arms. Cilla wasn't quite certain of her destination, but she didn't want to set her daughter down. Leave her alone. Not tonight.

She found her glass on the windowsill where she’d left it, but pushed it aside. She didn't need the alcohol now, she’d found something much more soothing.

Dawn was beginning, she’d spent the whole night pacing restlessly through the house, and filtering glimpses of sunlight speared through the fog still blanketing the Saxony Estate.

She spotted him coming over the hilltop, a flower in his hand, hat planted firmly on his head. She knew the flower would remain in a vase on their dinner table for a week, at least, before he would give to Rumpled, who would dispose of it “the proper way” as the groundsman liked to say. Cilla rolled her eyes.

Earl spotted her, his hand lifting in a wave as he meandered his way towards the two way door.

Cilla ignored him, eyes shifting past to the place he emerged from. The mound of buttercups underneath the Olive Tree.

A chill snaked down her spine, but she refused to look away, not until Earl was inside, arms wrapped around her, his beard tickling her cheek as he pressed a kiss to their daughters head.

As long as he lived, Annabelle would haunt their every step. But Cilla would not let the demons of the past drag her down. Priscilla was her daughter. And as long as there was still breath in her lungs she would not let the tendrils of the past infect her daughter. Not until the final petal. 

[solo-walker]

This one line compels me to conclude that Rumpold is Jasper's grandson and has been hiding his Scottish accent as part of the persona he created to get his job as the groundskeeper. He learnt magic from Jasper. After all, if he could be a boy-witch, who says Rumpold can't pick the profession(s) that calls to him personally and be a wizard-assassin?

[your-dead-european-ancestor]

Hmmm finally watching the latest long form play and the heckling is. Something. The howling was very fun i loved it but grandmama i am begging you please go back to bed 😭

[artstantpansies]

moreee hand drawn sfth text post memes - character ids in alt

yay yippee

[je-lurk]

Have another fic born of procrastination. A Priscilla’s Final Petal cautionary tale. Kind of