#she would be from skullduggery

[av-a-fletcruel]

Quote from skullduggery pleasant book that u think would fit these two:

As Garrick spoke, Xaden took a fresh t-shirt from his bag and took off the one he‘d been wearing. Every time he moved,his muscles rolled beneath his skin. It was astonishing. He was a gleaming marvel of musculature. A scattering of scars crossed his perfect torso,evidence of a hard-lived life, each scar a signature of a different battle or enemy. Her ex belonging in the infantry quadrant had never been like that. Dain had never been like that. Xaden Riorson was something brand-new and wonderful.

“Mmm,” said Violet.

Garrick looked at her. “Yes?”

Her eyes snapped towards him. “What?”

“You have something to add?”

She stared. “Nope. Just… agreeing.”

Tairn sighed throughout her bond and towards Xaden’s too. “Xaden,please put your shirt on. Violet’s getting distracted.”

“I’m not,” she argued, then gave a subtle smile at Xaden. “You don’t have to put your shirt on”

Xaden laughed through the bond a tainted smile crossed his lips but before being able to drown in the desirable taints of its looks, being covered as he pulled the t-shirt over his head.

“As I was saying,” Garrick continued…

[nitewrighter]

(Book binding anon) Anon has been given blessings to ramble? *deep inhale* Cindy perfectly encapsulates everything, and I do mean everything, that I have missed from so many fairy-tales, love stories, and fanfictions in the past decade or so. Every character is so lovingly simple--like, everyone involved has their flaws and strengths and a strong voice in and of themselves, but the prose is to the point and simple for their mannerisms, movements, and actions. For all the big, grand things that everyone does (or has done, looking at you, Mrs. Queen), the narrative always treats them as a person making choices. (Just a Lil Guy, if you will.) Which! Is! The Point! Of Cinderella!!! She is amazing because she has always always always chosen to be kind despite the shit going on, and the narrative subtly reinforcing that at every turn not JUST through lawn-chair-sitting author and their impeccable and funny inserts DIRECTLY calling out Cinderella, but in how it frames every character? The Prince's reflections? The slow understanding of everyone around the two of them how powerful that can be if you take the moment to think about it? Amazing!!! (Know that if I could put more exclamation marks and even more synonyms for "amazing" here without cluttering things, I would.) I remember as a kid finding book series like Skulduggery Pleasant which made use of short descriptive phrases and formatting (almost screenplay-esque?), and it read so easily; I'm always delighted to find things that make similar use of the dashes and ellipses to really hit home that cozy conversationalist tone. I can hear every character! Every! One! And there's JUST enough similarity to the way lawn-chair-sitting author speaks for that doubly nice reminder that yeah, we are sitting in their backyard getting told a fun story. Can we also appreciate that set-up? How it parodies so many funny retellings or strangely modern ones, sure (Masterpiece Theatre anyone? Does anyone else remember the horse lady?), but the readers aren't being talked to as kids? Like...lawn-chair-sitting author is tired, man. But they're hopeful. All their asides and inserts and descriptions feel like they're scooting to the edge of their chair to look me in the eyes and ask drunkenly but earnestly, "life fuckin sucks sometimes. But sometimes it's also good. This is my reminder." and sprinkling in all those other classic reminders of all kinds of other morals that make fairy tales so comforting. And! And and AND! It's so! Loving!!! To Cindy!!! I love the bits where the narrative "gives her space," builds her up even though she can't hear, lets her feel, and gets angry f o r her!!! It's just...it's so rare to find pieces where the characters are really, truly loved. Every time I reread it I feel like the story as a whole is just setting a big blanket on Cindy's shoulders and vicariously hugging her through the family she builds. Cindy and the Prince? The build up? The awkward second meeting? The constant communication? The quiet understanding? The build up of e v er y o n e 's eventual friendships??? The whole thing is just...so genuine and loving. I want to gush more, but at this point, trying to put how much I adore it into words just has me sitting at my keyboard making little grabby hands. Much love for your writing style, from the voice you have to the descriptions you use. They're all really wonderful, and when I get this thing bound, I'll send pictures <3

Sorry it's taken me a while to respond to this. I've just been reading it over and over.

I've never read Skullduggery Pleasant! I remember hearing vaguely about it online as a kid in the late 2000's/early 2010's, but I always thought it was a webcomic or something!

It's a little embarrassing to recall it now, but I actually did drunkenly tell a version of Cinderella from a deck chair... I want to say back in 2014? It was actually Sapsorrow from Jim Henson's "The Storyteller," which is closer to Donkeyskin, which uses the whole "Dress the color of the sky/Dress the color of the Sun/Dress the Color of the Moon" mechanic. We were *all* drunk and also passing a bong around but even then I was like... totally thrown off by people actually paying attention to me??? It always stuck with me, but I honestly wasn't even thinking about that time when I made that initial Cindy post. It only really came back to me around chapter 6, and I was like "Oh--this is like that time!!"

But the voice and the sense of spontaneity was very important to me throughout the whole thing. It still like... hits me that the story still emotionally affects people two years later--and I'm not saying that because I'm over it or anything! It's just... easy to kind of feel like you're not doing enough creatively when everything is 'content content content--are you putting out enough content?' these days. It's just... really affecting to be hit with "you floated this out into the world and it means something to people." It really means so much to me.

Thank you so much, I really mean that.

[arisenreborn]

5 Character Associations - Olivia

EMOTIONS/FEELINGS:

Proud determination and defiance. Eschews tradition, sometimes with a childish petulance. (Nevertheless, perhaps hypocritically, loves traditions that let her dress up and have fun.)

Charismatic; positive and friendly, she seeks to protect and uplift others, naturally drawing people to her

Confident, sometimes to a fault. She pursues her path and what she believes is right without hesitation - (if she hesitates, she's likely to spiral into one doubt after another...)

Passionate. Very much of the "go big or go home" sentiment: Work Hard, Party Harder. She wants to experience everything fully, no half-measures, nothing half-hearted.

Has deep-seated hurts related to emotional abandonment and not being good enough that really ought to be addressed but she'd rather just keep working herself raw to prove herself than sit too long to do the hard emotional work.

COLOURS:

sapphire blue

emerald green

blue goldstone

iridescent opal

amethyst purple

SCENTS:

lavender & honey - (her bathing go-to's)

the fresh green scents of vermund's wilderness

wheat & oxen - (she spends a lot of time in the fields outside of Vernworth)

new - new leather, new steel, most everything she's wearing has a scent of 'newness' to it, fresh bought and yet to be tested.

iron & fire - (she spends a lot of time around the smithy)

OBJECTS:

Necklace of elven make - said to be an heirloom of an ancestor, she was the only one in this day and age to care for it.

Tramont family amulet - denotes her as a member of the family, despite kind of being disowned.

Wolf fang - while she has many of these, this one she had crafted into a necklace - it was the first 'gift' Emrys gave her.

Crow mask - for masquerades or skullduggery, it is equal parts beautifully ornate and alluring, and frightfully forbidding.

Hand mirror - Made of pewter and engraved with ornate birds and flowers, it was a gift from her younger sister when she left the family estate.

BODY LANGUAGE:

Open - almost dangerously so. Any drill instructor of the knights would reprimand her for being so lax. But she's quick like a spring to respond, and thinks that 'laxness' is what better enables 'flexibility'.

Flowing, each step feels like a dance. She turns to someone calling her name and smiles, waving, as the sunlight dances around her - like a moving image of some princess from a storybook.

Almost princely, charming, bends and yields around the object of her attention, gently guiding touches as if leading a dance.

White knuckles. Her whole body tenses seeing soldiers beat down on civilians. Nostrils flared, cold resolution in the eyes. She sees the solution, and acts without remorse.

A dull look in her usually shining, lively eyes, a slouch in her shoulders. Only one person sees it, behind the closed doors of their abode. Tired, so tired of fighting and constantly trying to prove herself and- and then it's quickly gone. The light sparks anew, and she presses onward. She isn't doing this for herself, after all.

AESTHETICS:

swords & shields - to protect, not just to defend but to slay

fresh fruit with honey

beautiful, fancy dresses of many colors

bloody knuckles, bruised cheeks, a cut lip, circles under the eyes

shimmering goblets of wine & glittering masquerade halls VS overflowing mugs of ale & raucous, crowded taverns

SONGS:

Florence + The Machine - King

The Oh Hellos - Second Child, Restless Child

Laura Marling - Hope in the Air

Beyoncé - I Was Here

Florence + The Machine - I'm Not Calling You A Liar

[theluckywizard]

WIP Whenever!

Thank you for the tag @greypetrel! Here's another bit of my matchmaking Satinalia distraction fic which I have now named (woo!) Kiss me Moonstruck. Rose Trevelyan has sneaked out of her guest quarters at the Hawke estate and is heading with Hawke to the Hanged Man in Lowtown and this relatively sheltered noblewoman is just 👀👀👀 over everything. ****

Rose isn’t exactly sure what she should have expected. A bid for freedom is about as far as she got with her calculus. It was senseless, she had to admit, having been admonished by Garrett Hawke’s pitying snicker when she announced she was going to wander around Kirkwall at night.

But following alongside him, she feels safe enough to gawk at everything with wild curiosity. Unlike the stillness of Hightown, Lowtown teems with activity after dark. She tries to tease the early Satinalia skullduggery from the usual bustle, but it’s impossible. Aromas of roasted nuts and sizzling sausages drift through the falling snow from purveyors jammed up along row homes carved from tuff.  Obvious prostitutes with theatrically painted faces have staked out spots along the small market square with closed up stalls, flaunting their wares with bumps of their hips and perfectly timed lifts of their skirts. They holler their come ons at Rose, offering to make her sing louder than Serah Hawke ever could. Their familiarity with him is both jarring and somehow completely unsurprising. Hawke waves their taunts off.

“My uncle’s house is just around the corner,” he notes. “I got to know my neighbors quite well.”

“There’s a joke there that I’ll keep to myself,” she says wryly. Garrett shakes his head with a smile.

“They don’t like me,” he explains. “I had a few dust ups with their keepers that made things more difficult for them. I was— trying to help— and somehow I made things worse.”

“Trying to be their white knight or something?”

“Or something.”

An urchin child runs parallel to them with an armful of laurel and elfroot crowns for Satinalia, soliciting their attention with compliments and colorful descriptions of whatever they have on offer. She has to admire her tenacity, her expression animated behind streaks of dirt. So much life hidden under raggy, threadbare layers that must barely keep her warm. Hawke leans low to whisper in Rose’s ear.

“Watch your back and watch your purse,” he says softly. She peers over her shoulder to see them being tailed by a few other pint sized denizens waiting for their moment. The would-be offenders try to look casual, but Rose winks at them to warn them off. 

“I’ll have one for me and one for the lady,” says Hawke, magnanimous in his address, holding up a shiny stack of coppers. “And if you tell your friends behind us to piss off, I’ll take the lot.”

The girl’s sudden excitement pops out in a little hop and she slips her armful of crowns onto Hawke’s arm before turning to the bunch tailing them and unleashing a torrent of curses, scrappy and colorful as a quilt.

“Isn’t that a bit much?” Rose asks, eyeing his evergreen adorned forearm.

“They can’t go home until they sell it all. Besides,” he says, tossing and catching a crown of greenery. “I can hand them out at the tavern.” He pops a crown onto her snowflake dusted hair, so fully accepting of her transformation and presence on this illicit mission to make merry, to thumb her nose at her mother’s expectations and edicts that her answering look is rather slushy with appreciation. She smiles up at him, warmed by the compassion tucked inside his savvy though he turns sharply to shoo away the pickpockets that hover a little too closely with a pretend kick.

Tagging @crackinglamb, @delicatefade, @zenstrike, @rowanisawriter, @bluewren and ANYONE ELSE. I want to see your projects (DA or no!) 🥰

[orangelemonsstuff]

Okay so-- few months ago me and my friend were talking about what if DOL has an ending, bad one, since me and my friend are bad ending enthusiasts, it gave me an idea i shared to them months ago.

its pretty shit but i enjoyed writing it lmao

Neutral Bad Ending

MC comes home wet by the rain outside, they will come asking around orphans about Bailey's whereabouts, a orphan would approach them and say Bailey is currently occupying the bathroom,

There are two scenarios that might happen with this ending:

1. If PC is in High Trauma or just achieved the Whitney and Robin Park cutscene/event (which i made up in my mind), PC would ask for the orphan's hair dryer saying "needing to dry their hair because of the rain" before heading to the bathroom where Bailey is in and plugging it on the extension cord, a moment later, Bailey would notice PC's presence and would ask "what the fuck do you want brat? can't you see im in here?" PC would just give him a stare and would ask for his birthday

Defiant: "When's your birthday Bailey?"

Neutral: "i just want to know when is your birthday Bailey?"

Submissive: "W-well, i want to ask... w-when is your birthday Bailey?

At this, Bailey would respond "Why the hell would you want to know? i don't want any of your crappy gifts", PC will insist that they should just say when it is and they'll leave, Bailey would give it up and say "June 12, now get the fuck out of here." PC would smile at them saying that they'll remember it before throwing the plugged hair dryer on a extension cord at the bathub with Bailey.

If PC with High Trauma or the Whitney and Robin event (again made up in my head which i didn't write yet) is not acquired but Robin is on the underground brothel or the Orphanage had gained Rebellious trait it would follow this scene:

2. PC would pull some furnishings from around the orphanage towards the bathroom door exclusively trapping Bailey in the bathroom, the orphans would look at them confusedly and they will just assure them that they will end all of this, the orphans will still not get it but they will help PC pushing the furnitures, it has three stages

"You cover the bathroom door with furnitures and large objects, Its barely covered. he/she could come out easy"

"You cover the bathroom door with furnitures and large objects, Most parts were covered. he/she would sturggle to come out"

"You covered the bathroom door with furnitures and large objects. the door is fully covered. he/she cannot come out."

if high skullduggery, Should PC and the orphans move the furnitures quitely through the bathroom door, if not a chair would make a screeching sound alerting Bailey making the Player choose if they should take the risk on continuing or not.

*not continuing would fail this ending even if the door is already covered fully

continuing, would have Bailey rattling the doorknob only to not being able to open it, Bailey would soon bang the door for all of them to remove the blockage at once or else they will taste their wrath, but with PC contiuing and successfully covering the door, they hurry and lead the other orphans outside as they pick up a canister of gasoline and surrounded the whole orphanage with it including the furnitures near the bathroom door, they will pick up a match on Bailey's office and lit the gasoline tracks on fire.

••

EH? EH? WHATCHA THINK??? tbh this is just a fun lil concept on an ending i made up in my mind since i played a lot of otome games and gained a lot of bad endings... which happened too much to be considered normal cuz normally i just fuck around with characters lmao, but i hope you enjoyed it.

[the-darkness-does-not-bargain]

WIP... Wednesday

I was tagged by @askweisswolf for this, so thank you 😊. Here's the latest bit from T Boy au I've been working on. I'll also tag @godsweakestsoldier @estherthenormal @abysskeeper and @willowedhepatica . If you guys are interested 🙂

////

Lilith was her only lifeline here.  They made eye contact over the shoulder of a long-winded oil baron, and Beatrice silently begged her for help, getting a small nod in return.  Her friend marched away from the corner she was lurking in and straight toward her, grabbing a flute of champagne off a passing waiter’s tray.  Beatrice eyed her with a touch of wariness, noticing a hint of mischief in her leonine face.

The oil baron was half-way through a rant about the Paris Accord by the time she stood at his shoulder.  Beatrice thought she knew what was about to happen next.  Lilith would upturn the flute on the man’s back, ruin his designer suit, and maybe shoulder-check him with a little too much force for good measure.  Then she would spew a flurry of simpering apologies until he begged off to clean up, freeing Beatrice from his presence.

Apparently, she didn’t know Lilith’s playbook as well as she thought, because a torrent of ice-cold liquid splashed onto her front instead.  “Ah!”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Beatrice!”  Lilith could be a brilliant actress when she wanted to be.  Beatrice knew this well.  Her particular brand of abrasive, uncomfortable charm came in handy all the time, as did her penchant for skullduggery.  “Oh, I’ve made a mess of you, this won’t do at all!”  Her hands fluttered ineffectually over the front of Beatrice’s gown before she turned a razor-gleam smile on the baron.  “I apologize for my interruption, Mr. Simmonds.  Would you mind terribly if I borrow Beatrice to get cleaned up?”

The man winced subtly under her repellant stare and cleared his throat awkwardly.  “Yes, of course, you’re quite right to.  Thank you for your time, Ms. Young.”

“Lovely to speak with you,” Beatrice said robotically, already distracted by Lilith’s hand wrapping around her bicep to pull her away.  Once they were out of earshot, however, she scowled at Lilith.  “That was hardly necessary.”

Lilith shrugged, lips ticking upward.  “Maybe not, but it was funny.  And what’s the harm?  It’s not as if you like that dress.”

Beatrice huffed, but could not refute the assertion.  “Still, what am I supposed to do now?  Can’t exactly dab this up with a hand towel, can I?  And I can’t go back out there with champagne down my front.”

“Go home,” her friend responded casually.

“What?”

They stopped just in front of the restroom door, a thin thing painted an inoffensive ecru.  Lilith’s sharp eyes scanned the ballroom once before speaking in a hushed tone.  “Just leave, Bea.  I’ve given you an out, so go home and stop puttering about in this purgatory.”

“And just what will my parents say to that?”

“I’ll tell them,” she said.  “I’ll apologize profusely and then distract them by talking about law school.  Easy as anything.”

Beatrice sighed, considering this offer.  She wouldn’t deny how tempting it was.  The chance to bail out early and have some genuine alone time at home was too good to pass up.  And if Lilith was so willing to help, then…

“Fine,” she conceded quietly.  “I’ll text Danil to pick me up.”

“Good,” Lilith responded, satisfied.  “You should probably still try dabbing with a hand towel.  At least so you don’t drip all over the back seat.”

Beatrice rolled her eyes.  “You’re an ass, you know that?”

“Now, Beatrice, I think you can show a little more gratitude than that.”

She rolled them again.  “Thank you, I suppose.”

Lilith hummed.  “Needs work, but I’ll accept it.  Now sod off.”

[moosefeels]

my hottest take a leftist is that 'celebrity' is an exploited labor class, a class of person whose existience is predicated on a total lack of personal control and private life.

the thing about hollywood is that the film industry as we know it is established in california to avoid patent law on the east coast. there's a certain amount of Skullduggery that's already there. and then it grows out of vernacular traveling entertainment from the era (vaudeville) but hollywood is different from vaudeville because it offers a level of security and range that's pretty new. like you know you'll get a check and it will be seen by Everyone. Everyone!

and like, from the Beginning you get this unhinged, unreal, exacting level of control from bosses and owners.

like, that wasn't even joan crawford's name. it was voted on in a poll in a magazine. it wasn't judy garland's name either. and to be clear-- judy garland's well-publicized drug problems stemmed from the fact that louis b. mayer (of metro-goldwyn mayer) was personally forcing her to take amphetimines as a young person so she could literally film six movies at a time.

everyone agrees that the dionne quintuplets were exploited. but the thing is: they were five children who were being treated the way adult movie stars were treated.

and you get this remarkable continuity for how this shakes out. joan crawford and judy garland get treated the same way, but also, elvis gets treated the same way britney spears gets treated. the fucked up thing about britney spears is that it's her family that did it to her, not her label.

and when you get into how this works in the current moment, you get stuff like the contracts celebrities make with designers that essentially dictates what they wear and how they look publicly (complete lack of agency). but you also get shit like idols having to apologize for having a relationship or mickey mouse sliding purity rings on the fingers of every star in the stable.

and like. the thing about scientology is that it's essentially this like, parasite cult that latches onto celebrity in the modern expression. they exist as a concierge priesthood for celebrities. the premise of scientology is "we will keep all your secrets, we will always be on your side, we will even coordinate between you and the press/you and the studio."

and like, in much the same way evangelical orgs have a vested interested in preventing robust social services, scientology thus has a vested interest in stopping protections for the base it serves. anyway if i were joe biden i would remove tax exemptions for all churches immediately via executive order.

[tsunael]

I'm posting this fic snippet on queue in hopes that it'll motivate me to finish it l-lol. Baby's first fanfic let's go.

There's a twinge of cwinge and it's not beta-tested. There's a lot more but [air slowly escaping a balloon noise].

Woe, tunasan be upon you. 🫴🐟🥪

Thancred stood at the threshold of a windowed door. 

A simple, marble patio flanked with evergreen shrubbery that could take The Northern Empty’s impotent weather cradled the entryway. Being on the first floor, it wasn’t entirely difficult to get to, but the familiar rush of entering a space he was not meant to be still filled his belly. Ever had he the taste for skullduggery.

Sharlayan’s Asklepieion was a large, domed building nestled in the bosom of Archons’ Design, just to the west of The Nymphaeum. A sanitarium, which, by order of The Forum had housed near-all the Scions at least once whereupon their triumphant return from the depths of the universe’s heart. His own stay had been but a fortnight’s time, but none held such grievous wounds as did their Spear. Zenos Viator Galvus had seen to that. By taking from her all that she had– first body, and at last the soul– he sought to leave her in the cold, vacuum of space. That man had taken so much, and left her so very little.

The thought continued to unsettle him. Perhaps, that was the reason his feet so often took him to her doorstep. It was to assuage his heart, is what he told himself. To confirm she yet lived and breathed.

Thancred kept busy as to not think, allowing duty and errand to wear and keep him for most of the day’s light–  and thus well-past visiting hours. Since she had awoken from her induced coma a moon’s breadth ago, he had taken to stealing into her room at the sanitarium whenever possible. 

The simple fact that Tsuna continued to leave the door unlatched was proof enough that Thancred still remained in her good graces, and for that he thanked his own.

Two, quick raps in succession against the glass pane announced his arrival, though he did not wait for a response before he helped himself. Tsuna’s left leg still lay on the mend from the pieces her femur was in when first they found her battered and broken on the Ragnarok’s bridge, and he sought to not take more from her than his little visits were already. She sorely needed the rest, and a piece of mind that his presence did not often bring.

As the latch clicked, and his un-armored boot inched into the threshold, he lifted his face to see the singular occupant of the room sitting up from her sickbed, looking as beautiful and glowing as the day they had first met. The warm light of the singular oil lamp upon her bedside table made her glow with a warmth that was more inviting than any hearth. Disrobing and crawling beside her to stave off his chill shamefully crossed his mind.

Thancred closed the door behind him with a delicate touch to both avoid detection and cut off the chilling draft. His gloved hands had fallen numb from the journey from The Peristyle, and so he warmed them briefly with his breath. 

“Evening.” His hushed voice played coy upon their rendezvous. After all, he was here after-hours. Should a staffer be alerted to his presence there would be a most-unwelcome stir.

Tsuna’s tired eyes rolled and smiled back at him with generous affection. It took a modicum of effort for her to slide across her mattress, though when she did, the empty space was patted. It was an invitation, and he strode to take it with aplomb. Her eyes followed him as he set his satchel down by her bedside table, and took a heavy seat where her hand had beckoned. She leaned back against the headboard, and folded her fingers upon her lap, watching him silently as he twisted ever-slightly to face her. His arm braced his weight and caged-in the plum line of her legs from above the warm blankets. He very much wished to feel them. For now he abstained. 

There was an intimacy lately, he noticed, present during his nightly visits that he hadn’t wished to uncrate, but to say it was not a welcome thing would be a lie. Craving her company would be folly; not a farce.

“Evening,” she finally replied, still looking up at him through thick lashes, and beaming shy. Clearly, she was amused by his sudden entrance. “Cold?”

“Very much.” He answered by pulling off his gloves, finger-by-finger, and rubbing feeling back into his palms. “Have you been well?”

Her smile waned as she thought about the question. Her hand rubbed absently at her bound thigh, and then to her sorry, lop-sided horns. The one that still stood whole had borne a deep fissure along the forward-sloping curve– assumingly after having a great weight land upon it– whilst Zenos had succeeded in lopping off most of the other. What remained brought to mind a twisted branch having been broken on the spiral. “Well enough. Though, I’ve been… having vertigo as of late. Since I came to.”

“Aside from the usual fare?” he asked, hopeful. Her gift of The Echo ensured that she ended up on the floor of most places more often than not.

Tsuna shook her head on the negative, and immediately winced for it. “My chirurgeon believes my horn is to blame. They all say they’ll have to… possibly cull the other. For balance, I suppose.” 

In plain: it bothered her. He saw the way she thumbed the chip near the point, and caressed the ram’s curve of it with passing regret. He had done the same, once. Only now, he realised much too late that it had been a privilege afforded him, and not pleasantry.

Her thumb drew from horn to pursed mouth in transparent thought, and for once he hadn’t known what to say. Her horns, magnificent as Matanga ivory as they were, seemed more an inconvenience than a boon– but he knew better than to give voice to thoughtless musing. Thancred turned away, digging his thumb in the creasing space between his brows to will something of worth to form inside his damned skull.

“You’ve got Etherirys’ best minds at your beck-and-call, dear. You could not ask for better.” His mouth twisted at the corners as he tried to uplift her spirit, though she did not raise her eyes from her lap to see. “... They will grow back, yes?” He asked with a grimace, well aware of his ignorance.

Tsuna raised her chin to contemplate, and then back at her hands to scratch idly at the bandages. She nodded; this time with care. “Aye. Though… Still, I…” her jaw wagged in vain effort to find her words, and when she stalled, his brows raised a quiet question. “I was ten-and-six summers when first they grew in full. I remember… because it was when my mother said I would come of age.”

“If it should be another sixteen summers, then let it be sixteen. You are no lesser without them.”

She raised her face to him for that, and to his pleasure, a small smile bloomed. He returned a small one of his own in kind. He told her it would be well, and for the time being, they both seemed to believe. 

Her left hand fell to his in an effort to warm his skin with a gentleness he did not deserve. “... What will you be doing in sixteen years?” she asked, sliding her thumb between the cleft of his chapped fingers. He could not fathom the answer.

He chuffed. She asked a tall order. 

“I make it a point to not think that far ahead.” 

His shrug and half-smile were not the deterrence he believed it was. It only served to disappoint her, as evident in how willowy her voice had fallen. She rolled her thumb over his middle knuckle in earnest. “How can you live with nothing to look forward to?”

“I look forward to tomorrow,” he said simply. “I could not tell you what will happen in another ten– nor, sixteen. However, I do know that dawn will break on the morrow– as it always has.”

Tsuna looked down to their joined hands and breathed a shuddered sigh as if his answer still wasn't satisfactory. She craved another– something different– idealist, and hopeful. Thancred had never mourned his inability to read the stars, nor did he know what this one had in store now with Hydaelyn having left its heart. The heavens had little bearing on the path he carved for himself.

“You look disappointed,” he noted, softly and she quickly cut the air between them to deny him.

“No, I–”

“Then I would pose the same question: where would the vaunted Warrior of Light be in sixteen years time?”

Her lips parted on an answer, and closed for it. Shame was writ on her face– or embarrassment for the fantasy she had concocted well before his question.

He brought her hand to his chin, and brushed lips over her delicate fingers. “Go ahead,” he encouraged.

“I want… to be eating breakfast with you,” she whispered, her eyes never leaving where they joined.

It was his turn to pause in shock. He slowly released her hand, feeling the intimacy having grown overtly cloying. It was a promise he could not make. Thancred looked into her eyes, and found only sweetness therein. 

He forced a smile. He had to; to protect her dear heart. “We can do that at any time. That’s a long time to wait.” 

But Tsuna just smiled. “I know.”

[handfulofmuses]

Some kast stuff that I think @aureumbulum is gonne appreciate:

Question: Out of the idw cast is the biggest Bathroom Hog?

Flynn: Maybe Clutch by default because he does not have to share. He can take his time and you know, read a book and freshen up as long as he wants. Because who is going to tell him to move? Who is gonna tell him to move and survive afterwards?

—

Question: When Mimic still worked with the Cutters, how did he pass himself off as a good guy (or at least semi-decent)? Was he the oddball with the off-color sense of humor or did he just come off as having a hidden heart of gold?

Flynn: It was… um, the mix of the diamond cutters, they were all efficient. They all got the job done and they all, you know, did what they were supposed to do. And Mimic’s particular role as the infiltrator and the kind of guy on the side meant he was never really put into a position where his loyalty to the team was put in question. They needed him to get in, unlock the door, do some skullduggery so that they can go in and tear stuff up and then they all get out.

Flynn: That worked. You know he did what everyone expected him to do. He did not raise a fuss over it. And he is an infiltrator by nature so he knows how to get along with people if he needs to if he has to.

Flynn: So yeah, he just kind of - I don’t wanna say he played the group because I don’t think it was a conscious effort to deceive them this entire time. He did not plot on destroying the team from within it’s just when he was caught by Eggman and he was given the opportunity to save his own skin, he went for it because that was the most pragmatic thing to do.

—

Question: Time for a question from the self-proclaimed president of the Claire Voyance Fan Club -- Given Claire's ESP abilities (and her being influenced by a certain member of FOXHOUND), could she potentially use her abilities to haunt Mimic from beyond the grave? And if so, how would she go about messing with the man who betrayed her and her teammates?

Flynn: Canon answer no but in the fun answer on how she would do that… She would just always wait until Mimic is asleep and make some small noise to put him on edge. You know, leave the cabinet open that he is sure that he closed. Untie hs boot laces. He is just about to go to sleep and JUMP SCARE! Like nothing overt, nothing that he can pin on. Nothing that he can say “oh i am being haunted by a ghost” juuuust enough to make him think he is going crazy.

—-

Question: If Mimic would redeem himself, how would it go?

Flynn: Maybe it’s him coming to a realization that, for all of his effort to protect himself, it has not worked. He is no safer, he is no more secure in life and it has cost him every comfort, every alliance, every friendship that he may have had. And whatever possibly had in the future because he is poisoned that well thoroughly. So it would be him coming to the realization that he can’t escape his fate, that he must reap what he has sown. And in an effort to make amends he makes the ultimate sacrifice to save Whisper. You know, he says: “I know you are never gonna believe me if I say I am sorry, so… here I go!”

Flynn: And then maybe have him reveal it’s a death cheat at the very last minute. He is fine, everyone thinks he is death. And he got to be a martyr, win-win.

Kyle: Oh he is still a trickster after all.

Flynn: Yeah. But maybe he is a trickster for the right reasons.

Kyle: Finally. This time. For once in his miserable life.

Flynn: If we did that… it needs the time to set up. I am not one hundred percent satisfied with that but I also did it on top of my head, so…

—- Mimic and Clutch have to get an apartment together, and get regular jobs to make ends meet. What do they each do for a living, and how is it living together? Who leaves their towel on the floor? Who left the empty milk carton in the fridge? Who broke the sacred roommate code and ate the pint of ice cream that was CLEARLY MINE! I wrote my name on it, and was saving it! It was on the FAR side of MY HALF OF THE FREEZER!

Kyle: These all sound like Mimic.

Flynn: Really? I feel like these sound all like Clutch projecting because Mimic doesn’t leave his room if he does not have to.

Flynn: Clutch does the whole paint divider line down the middle of the couch and everything. “This half is mine, this half is yours” and Mimic is like “whatever” and just closes the door in his room and starts playing fortnite.

Kyle: Maybe the security camera says it’s Clutch but we know Mimic is a shapeshifter

Flynn: If we are going to do this sitcom running gag Clutch keeps finding managerial positions and he keeps hiring Mimic as the poor lowly clerk or or fry cook or receptionist or whatever.

Flynn: And somehow all the abuse pushed onto Mimic ends up blowin back and getting Clutch fired. Roll credits.

— Question: How would Mimic react to being haunted by the ghosts of the Diamond Cutters? No matter where he goes or what form he takes, they'll always find him.

Flynn: Annoyance until he figures out how to kill a ghost.

—-

Question: Are wisps okay with killing if their target is an evil person? Whisper got pretty close to offing Eggman and Mimic but her wisps did not seem to try and stop her.

Flynn: In general I would say no. But I think Whisper’s crew has seen some stuff, they might have a different opinion.

—-

Question: So, you're in the Wal-Wart bathroom, when suddenly, Mimic crawls into your stall, and is like, "PHEW! That STINKS! Anyway, what have I been doing since the end of Bad Guys?" How do you respond?

Flynn:

Kyle:

Kyle: -laughs- Alright, this is an interesting way to frame this question.

Flynn:

Flynn: Yeah. Yeah it is.

Kyle: -laughing- You could just ask normally but no I guess-

Flynn: No clearly they wanted to stall for time.

Kyle: OOOOOH.

Flynn: I mean they are already flushed with questions, clearly.

Flynn: And we are an hour half in and I am kinda drained. But let’s see.

Flynn: I already thrown out puns, I lost the thread. What was the question?

Kyle: What has Mimic been doing since the end of bad guys?

Flynn: He has been hiding and biding his time.

Kyle: Alright - are you sure? Is that all he has been doing?

Flynn: He is not some reckless hotshot like Sonic who goes out and is like HEY LOOK AT ME I AM OUT OF JAIL, making rhymes and immediately getting thrown back into the slammer Kyle: But he can literally look like anybody why would he just hang around nowhere?

Flynn: Who said that he was doing? I said he was hiding. He can hide in plain sight.

Kyle: Oh. I guess that’s true. He is just hiding in bathrooms. He is hiding in Walmart bathrooms.

—-

Question: I know you can’t answer this in any kind of detail Ian but in your mind or even possibly notes do you have a general idea of how the inevitable confrontation between Whisper and Mimic will play out?

Flynn: I was actually talking with Evan about this a while back. Kind of brainstorming. That’s a tough nut to crack because this is an all ages book. This is family reading and revenge killing …. not so much. I haven’t settled on anything myself. Maybe she or Danny or somebody else can figure that out and how to properly address it.

Flynn: Right now it is a lingering concern.

Kyle: Just do the same thing like you did with Starline.

Flynn: Well, the thing is, Starline’s destruction was his own hubris. You know, he thought himself so grand and he literally brought the city down on himself. Mimic and Whisper? It’s extremely personal. And if she does not get the kill, it feels like she is being robbed. But if you find a way for her to walk away from it, you are also robbing her of it. Like if she outgrows the vendetta it’s like … what was all the fighting and angst for? So … it will take some figuring out.

—-

Question: In the fourth and final issue of Tangle and Whisper’s miniseries, right after Tangle plays the holo-video of the other Diamond Cutters for Mimic, there’s a panel where the octopus is holding up his hands and just staring at them, silently. Fans have interpreted this as Mimic regretting his actions; with common head-canons for his continued evil being him realizing that he’s past the point of no return or that he had been captured by an enemy of the team during a previous mission and turned into a sleeper agent via brainwashing and this was his original, less despicable (not good, NEVER good) self breaking through for a brief moment. If possible, could you tell us what that pause really was about?

Flynn: It was intentionally left vague. Because I wanted folks to wonder and that specifically for Mimic. Like, did he have a moment of regret? Did he have a moment of realiization of just what he had lost, was he just kinda thinking about ‘well, had to be done. no regrets.’

Flynn: I wanted it to be unclear so that folks would still feel uneasy around him. Because if and when he showed up again, there would be that lingering question of “well, is he still going to be a murderous jerk? Or is there a chance he could turn around?” Flynn: I want that lingering misgiving because that’s what Mimic is supposed to be. He is supposed to be that kinda boogie man. But he is always kinda in the back of your mind making you go “well… what is he gonna do now? what’s his next move?” You don’t know, he a trickster octopus. And he is meant to be unnerving. So I will not validate or invalidate any interpretation of that scene because you are meant to be left guessing.

—-

Question: Is Mimic still wearing his old Diamond Cutter uniform or is it just a very similar outfit? If it is, is there a reason he continues to wear it?

Flynn: I imagine it’s because he feels like it is his. In his mind, he never did anything wrong with the Diamond Cutters. He just had to do what he needs to survive so it’s not like the uniform is a memory of betrayal or anything wrong. It’s his and it works for him. So there you go.

Kyle: Well there you go i guess. What a jerk.

Flynn: Oh yeah, he is awful.

—

Question: Let’s have fun with a hypothetical: Tangle, Whisper, and Mimic are forced to team up for whatever reason. How quickly do things go south? Who snaps first?

Flynn: If anyone is going to snap, it’s Whisper.

Flynn: Tangle is twitchy but she is not a snapper. And Mimic is a professional. He is not gonna snap.

Flynn: Whisper is the one who is going to be… on hair trigger the whole time. And it is gonna be Tangle who kinda wrangles her into not straight up murdering Mimic for whatever adventure they are on.

Flynn: I imagine that they would be very effective together. I mean, Mimic and Whisper would kinda fall into the old patterns of what they had as the Diamond Cutters. Kind of coming back to old times but there would always, ALWAYS be that lingering tension because the minute that they are done or out of danger it’s going to be a question of who strikes first.

Kyle: Tangle is no fun. Let Whisper have a little murder. Come on. Mimic deserves it.

—

Question: If Mimic were to actually succeed in killing Whisper, what would be next on his agenda? Would he relax and take a vacation or hunt down his next target, possibly going after Eggman or Starline?

Flynn: Mimic would not go after Eggman. He is terrified of him. Starline, I don’t think he would make it a point but if he happened to see him across the street he would be like “yeah, why not”.

Flynn: As for Whisper, I think he would be more affected than he would want to admit that it was finally done. And he would just focus on the next job and try to not admit to himself that he is actually upset over this a little.

Kyle: Hm. So you are not killing Whisper off, right? We are making this extra crystal clear this is a theoretical scenario?

Flynn: I mean it could happen.

Kyle: No.

Flynn: It may not. You will just have to read and find out.

Kyle: I will whack you with a newspaper.

—-

Question: So in Tangle & Whisper #4, what exactly was the plan for dealing with Mimic? Tangle just shows Mimic holograms of his teamates, expecting him to have remorse, which is sorta dumb because she knew Mimic by that point. Or was the plan for Whisper to come in with the sneak attack?

Flynn: It was more to see his reaction. He was with the Diamond Cutters for a while, they were his comrades. And the thinking was that to confront him, with what he had done might shake him. Might delay him. Because he was not there for the killing blow. He set up the ambush but he did not actually have to witness what happened to the team. And when he was going after Whisper he was pretty quick to say “oh he must have run off, my job is done!” so the thinking which I guess could have been better explained was to see if confronting him with all the evil he had done would actually shake him.

Flynn: And you know, make him surrounder. Make him repent something. And Mimic does have that moment of ‘yeah… I did that. Oh well. Business is business.”

Flynn: It was also supposed to highlight the fact that Tangle is not the hardened embittered mercenary Whisper and Mimic are. She still believes in happy endings and the goodness of people. She is still the bright eyed and enthusiastic optimist.

[docholligay]

The Faceless Old Woman Who Secretly Lives In Your Home

The pitch: There is a Faceless Old Woman who secretly lives in your home. She's always there. But now, it's time to learn where she came from and how she ended up in the strange little desert community of Night Vale. It's a story of swashbuckling adventure, queer romance, thievery, skullduggery, betrayal, and, most importantly, revenge. For the Faceless Old Woman has been around for a very long time and she never forgets... or forgives.

While this book is set in the world of the podcast Welcome to Night Vale, it is absolutely NOT necessary to have ever listened to the podcast to enjoy it. The authors have gone out of their way to ensure this book is accessible to anyone, whether they're a Night Vale fan or not.

I’m shocked I took this pitch, rereading it ahahaha. I think it was a repitch and the original pitch was better? (hold on, I’m about to compliment the shit out of the book) If a pitch goes through, you can repitch and be automatically let through the next year if it doesn’t get drawn. Please Hold.

YEP THAT WAS IT HERE’S THE ORIGINAL PITCH

There is a faceless old woman who secretly lives in your home and for the first time, she's going to tell you where she came from and how she wound up in your home. It is a long globe-trotting journey involving swashbuckling, heroism, romance, and slow, but inevitable revenge.

I know you love the Count of Monte Cristo and this book is very much in that vein, as well as featuring some unique and intriguing characters throughout. There is mystery, double crosses, and some truly endearing and heartbreaking moments. Best of all, while the book is related to the "Welcome to Night Vale" podcast, it is absolutely NOT necessary to have listened to a single episode to enjoy the book. This is the story of a woman who has had an amazing and adventurous life and how her quest for revenge led her not only to Night Vale, but to the loss of her face and maybe even more than that.

I fucking L O V E CoMC and the pitcher knew that and this is a great example of how to use the things I love to help me find other things I might love. This is actually a great example of how you can pitch a book to me, that, I’m gonna tell you up front I had a fucking FABULOUS TIME READING--I finished it in one night, just gobbled it up--I would have taken in one way and not the other.

Non-spoilery review is just the pitch because truthfully it is VERY VERY hard to explain this book without spoiling it. That second pitch SLAPS and is all you need know (There’s a Jewish lesbian in the book but those of you looking for ‘queer romance’ are going to be disappointed, as it’s very much a side note to a character whose Jewishness is honestly more central and interesting. I loved it! It is the kind of thing *I* love, but if you are reading a book FOR that, you will come away disappointed)

Spoilers:

Fuck me running, okay, I expected to dislike this book. When i picked it up, I was like, “why, in the fuck, did I okay this? was I high?” mind you this is before I ever started reading just “From the authors of WELCOME TO NIGHTVALE” (a podcast I did not like at all) and “ALICE ISN’T DEAD” (A book I thought was blunt and hamfisted to the point of seeming to be written by talented teenager still learning about subtlety) comes A NEW STORY” I thought I had fucked myself over for reasons that I could not possibly understand, but I had bought the book and even used it was spendier than my usual and so I was like “FINE I GUESS UGH”

About 20 pages into it, I was super happy with my decision to read it. About 100 pages in, I was actually GLAD the storm had made my stream impossible because I knew I was going to finish this book out in one night.

This book hits on things I really love, and one of those things is revenge, and the nature of revenge, and what it does to a person, and what it makes us do to others. It has kind of a light touch, it wants to be kind of goofy about it sometimes, and those were actually the moments I thought it tripped, was when it was trying to be cutesy-comic-quirky about these very real things it was saying. Interestingly, when it was trying to be an arm of Welcome to Night Vale is when it failed for me, personally, basically.

She is so hellbent on her revenge that she refuses to pay attention to anything around her. There were so many times I screamed that she should be suspicious, that she should do a small amount of her own research, and the ending tells you that yes, the book WANTED you to be thinking that, though it was fine with you treating this like a stock fantasy/swashbuckle and believing everything the Substitute Father Figure said, only to be slapped by a mackerel in the face later. It all becomes about destroying the person who hurt her, and she’s swallowing poison the whole time hoping Edmond will eat her raw and die. It’s WILD.

I loved the scene with Albert where she literally cannot let herself let it go and be happy. The book is very very clear that this is not nobility, this is foolish stubbornness, this is continuing to cut open and reinfect a wound because healing feels like a betrayal. And not only does she ruin her own happiness, she ruins the happiness of her friends. She kills Andre, and Lora, and in fairness mostly inconveniences Rebekah deeply (who I loved and thought was a very very interesting character but I have already taken way more time on this review than I’m supposed to, so) because of her need for revenge, and she is outmaneuvered at every point, even to the end where Edmond dies peacefully surrounded by his family, while she’s a vengeful ghost of some kind.

And she continues to ruin her own fucking life. Death. Whatever. She continues to cut open the wound, loving every son, helping them, and then destroying them, and for what? It doesn’t seem to make her feel any better, it’s just a way of never letting her forgive herself for her father’s death but MORE IMPORTANTLY for the destruction she wrought on her friends and her own blind stupidity.

I fucking loved it. It buckled swash, it was about the power and idiocy of revenge, it was about what anger and hatred can meld us into and how it can destroy the beautiful things we ever were. This book sounds silly as shit when you look at the blurb and in fairness, yeah, I DO slightly wish it were in different hands that were not bound to a style of a podcast I find pretty eyerolling. But the themes are so fucking up my alley, the execution was largely solid, and I had a great time. Ate it the fuck up.

Will this get a rec asterisk? I don’t know! I think I liked it more than I think it is one of the highest quality things I read this year. Which isn’t to say I thought it was trash, I know trash and love trash, and I don’t think this was trash, but it wasn’t Great Circle. But it was a super fun example of the kind of thing *I* am looking for when I want a fun romp of a book.

thanks @notesfromtheidiotbox you hit it out of the park!

[dailycharacteroption]

Fey Prankster (Rogue Archetype)

(art by Bianca Dirmina on Artstation)

 From one fey prankster to another, this is yet another archetype with heavy connections to the Gathlain. However, anyone with a bit of fey magic might consider taking this archetype.

Today’s flavor of prankster is considerably less magical, and less a professional comedian or jester. Instead, they are sneaky trickster types, ne’er-do-wells that use a combination of mundane trickery and magical deceptions to befuddle others.

Some may do this to teach lessons to fools and villains, while others might seek personal thrills. In this way, they seem to invoke the classic idea of the trickster hero, using their wits and deception to win the day, whether they are truly heroic or not.

Obviously, gathlains and gnomes are a natural pick for this archetype, but anyone with a connection to the fey, be it a mingling of blood, having been taught by the fair folk, or even living among them for a time, picking up their tricks and becoming a bit more than mortal in the process.

In any case, their skills are manifold and their pranks devious.

 Whether it is animating a vine or root just long enough to grasp a target or just making the bushes rustle, these tricksters can use nearby plant life to distract foes to either sneak away or create openings in their guard.

Naturally, they also learn how to fight dirty as a matter of course.

One of their signature tricks is using illusions to swap the appearances of two objects or people, leading to all sorts of confusion and mischief. Later on, they can even swap their locations as they swap appearances, useful for thievery, heists, and much, much more.

They also can use their plant-animating powers to lay sneaky traps, tripping, debilitating, or even ensnaring foes.

Finally, these sneaks seem to blend into surrounding plant life, even if it normally wouldn’t cover their form.

Being able to take advantage of nearby plants and getting free dirty trick feats is quite useful, but where this archetype really shines is in the setup. The ability to trade the appearances of objects of people can be quite useful for stealing something without anyone knowing, or sneaking into somewhere where they ought not be, or tricking foes who think they are talking to or attacking someone else. The ability to rig nearby foliage into simple traps is also powerful, if niche, since it’s only really useful if you have time to prepare the battlefield. You lose out on trapfinding, uncanny dodge, and a handful of rogue talents for this archetype, but if it suits your character idea, go for it!

 Much like yesterday, who you decide to trick is up to your discretion, but discretion is probably worth employing regardless. That being said, these characters, being rogues, are likely to use their skills for practical purposes first, to aid in their skullduggery.

  Most would consider the morlocks a lost cause, the last shreds of a people driven to degeneracy by their isolation underground. However, the morlocks of Algan’s Delve have gained a new patron, a fey Eldest of the underground and gemstones, that has been teaching them secrets of magic (albeit slowly). Now, some of them are employing these tricks against their hostile neighbors, though the archfey’s motives are yet unknown.

 The suspicious already assume that the nagaji practice deceptive “snake magic”, but the powers that Ikshada wields come from no naga. The sneak thief cares not if others exotify and vilify her for her magic. She just steals from them regardless, teaching a lesson against their arrogance. However, most don’t seem to learn, if the bounty on her head is any indicator.

 The King’s gala was a disaster. Guests and guards shrouded by illusions, a duchess claiming that a plant attacked her, AND to top it all off, the crown jewels have been replaced by a handful of rocks! There is now an immediate bounty put out on the perpetrator, but can the party find them before they vanish back into the Fey Realms?

[agerefandom]

I NEED thoughts about CG! Skullduggery and Regressor! Valkyrie���. Please… You’re the only person that I know of that is even aware of Skullduggery and AGERE at the same time lol

Oh yes!!! I have thoughts!! All of them!

Okay, regressor!Valkyrie and caregiver!Skulduggery is a dynamic that I love specifically because it would be so hard for both of them.

In the books, Skulduggery literally recoils whenever Valkyrie shows any sign of being a child, which I read as his denial about the fact that he's putting all of this danger onto a child's shoulders, and also an attempt to hold distance between himself as a mentor and a father, both of which he has trauma around, but only one involves trauma that he pointblank refuses to acknowledge.

Valkyrie (partially as a learned reaction to this) has a very hard time being weak around anyone: there are times, in exhaustion, where we see her taking comfort in Skulduggery: but when it comes to emotional recovery, she does everything she can to keep it away from him.

All of this to say:

Valkyrie as a regressor makes so much sense. She's been struggling with intense trauma from the age of 11, and her social isolation began long before that. Of course she needs a break from it sometimes.

I think she would have tried to keep it totally locked down, but eventually she would have confided in Tanith. Tanith is already her big sister, so who better to take care of her? And then certain events happen, and Valkyrie is basically left without a support system. I don't think she would want Fletcher to help, because she wants to be normal with him.

And Skulduggery notices that Valkyrie is running ragged, but he never really knows how to help. He tries to feed her more, tries to give her more days off with her family, but she seems to resent his efforts, wanting to throw herself into work, protesting that she doesn't need coddling.

(more under 'read more' because wow this is an essay)

It's almost a relief on the days when she falls asleep in the car and he can carry her into his house (which is becoming their house, with food in the fridge and her clothes in the closet) and lay her down on the couch and tuck her in and it feels like he's doing something

Eventually, it comes to a head: whether Remnant!Tanith says something or Valkyrie slips when she's tired, Skulduggery realizes that it's something she's been hiding from him.

Honestly, he's relieved: he could tell there was something, and he wasn't sure he could deal with another secret boyfriend. And I think he would have some experience with this from The War and the Dead Men: it's familiar. He can provide it. And finally, there's a way he can help that doesn't involve talking it out. (He absolutely does not expect how many old emotions it stirs up and it's way more intense than he expects and Skulduggery can be a very dumb skeleton sometimes but it all works out and they love each other)

This is my thoughts thank you for listening

[klownkoster]

Can I please hear some thoughts about your takes on the main 4?

Just anything on your mind I love hearing your thoughts :>

oooo good ask actually, I've been so focused on developing Dr. Hare and Binary Bard that Black Widow and Captain Crawfish haven't really crossed my mind all that much 🤔 Doesn't mean I haven't been thinking about them though! I've just been brain-rotting about Hare and Bard more cause they're my comfort characters

My brain's a little scrambled right now to really go into depth at the moment, but I'll give you a few heacanons for each!

Dr. Hare ~ Autistic/has ADHD, or heck even both, and loves to info-dump about his interests to anyone willing to listen,, I'm just projecting at this point ~ Has fants(fur pants), his fur is very soft <3 Sucks in the summer, though ~ His little rabbit tail wags when he's really happy or excited about something, or info-dumping about something he's really passionate about 🥺 ~ He's envious of his pre-villain self, he wished he could go back to that young naïve version of himself, way back before the harshness of reality had a chance to crush him like it did and caused his villain totem to develop. Though at the same time, he wonders if that version of himself would hate him for who he's become, and if he would even want to associate himself with him in his current state. ~ What happened to him wasn't an accident

Binary Bard ~ I headcanon him as a masc-aligned nonbinary guy, he/they pronouns but he's cool with just he/him or they/them. I, personally, just call them what I see him as in the moment like I do with myself and my own OC's with pronoun sets like that ~ Speaks in binary to really aggravate others sometimes, just for the sake of being cryptic, or sometimes to say something he doesn't want to say directly. Luckily for him, the other three are accustomed to this and have learned how to translate it by now. ~ Knowing the things he did while under the influence of his villain totem has left him with sleeping issues, often laying awake at night feeling guilty and wondering what he could have done differently. ~ During his time controlled by the totem, it had altered his personality entirely, essentially turning him into the complete opposite of the calm inventor that usually kept too himself, he hates the person that totem turned him into. He especially hates what it made him do too his loved ones.

Black Widow ~ Black Widow and Betty Jetty are absolutely dating. Power lesbians. ~ I headcanon she became Black Widow because throughout her entire life her artistic talents were always pushed aside and belittled ever since childhood. Beautiful landscapes and still-lives eventually turned into warped portraits of herself when her totem came about, and she sought out to make the world see and recognize her talent. ~ *Rubs my gay little hands* Transfem Black Widow ~ After her totem was destroyed, she almost didn't know how to adjust to domestic life, it even scared her a bit, but with the help of her little ex-villain friend group they all learned to adjust and reflect on themselves together, which helped ease her fears. Now she's essentially like the group "mama bear" and "cool aunt" both wrapped in one.

Captain Crawfish ~ His totem came about after a previous crew he was captain of was lost at sea after a rival crew from Skullduggery sunk his ship. Survivors guilt and anger spawning both his totem and his hatred for Skullduggery, wanting to steal every bit of treasure they have like they stole his crew from him, whom he treasured as his own family. This eventually turned to stealing whatever treasure he could get his hands on, with it temporarily filling that void his fallen crew left behind, and when that feeling would wear off he'd set off for the next set of treasures in a desperate attempt to fill that void again, and that cycle would continue. ~ After his totems destruction, it took him a long while before he felt comfortable enough to return to the seas, still feeling awful about his lost crew and fearing another crew would be taken from him if he started sailing again. But, like mentioned in Black Widow's section, he and the others all learned to cope together and he eventually did return to sailing. ~ He's honestly rather protective of the other three, them being the only ones he's felt particularly close too since his first crewmates. He'll never admit it out loud, but he doesn't want to lose them like he did his crew.

[digenerate-trash]

MARGO

Description: 

Again I like to think of Margo as being a girl. But the Pc is king in the game so it's up to them. 

Margo would be better for a mod given that they are for the past AU. so some stuff here will definitely be a bit more out there but bear with me. 

Margo like Clove will be left up to interpretation but the general description will be that [he/she] has long bangs that go down to [his/her] chin and obscure [his/her] face slightly. Margo will also have bandages on [his/her] hands and face. Margo will change gender based on the PC’s preferences 

First meeting:

You will be stopped in the school hallways on your way to the cantine and a tall student will try to intimidate you demanding you hand over any cash you have on hand. 

[1] hand over your money - Giving in and handing all the cash you have on you leads to Margo shoving you down and mocking you for being weak before leaving. 

“Thanks bitch. This little gift is gonna get me something nice tonight.”

[2] refuse to hand it over - this would lead to combat. 

Even if you're able to fight [him/her] off or you are submissive enough to make it through combat Margo takes that as payment instead and leaves you alone “I think we've both had enough-” - if you fight Margo off

“That was fun. I should find you again sometime” - if Margo climaxed during combat.

[3] hand over only some of your money - this would require a skullduggery check successfully doing so leads to the first options conclusion. Failing would lead to combat.

Schedule: weekday

9 - 12 am: Margo will be patrolling the halls. There's a chance to run into [him/her] and if you do there's a chance that they will either demand money or skip asking and just drag you into combat

12 - 2 pm: Margo will always be at the front gate during lunch waiting for someone. Rain or shine

2 -3 pm: Margo goes to swimming class and will insist that you don't bother [him/her]. If at medium love or higher Margo will insist on helping you learn this will increase your swimming stat twice as fast. But it could also drag you into combat if high lust with Margo. 

5 - 9 pm: working at an early version of the cafe. There are events to bother [him/her] while [he/she] works but each bothersome action raises [his/her] lust and if you leave when the cafe closes Margo will drag you into combat behind the cafe.

If the “Margo is wanted” event has happened Margo would have been fired from the cafe so they will be un interactable at this time. 

On Fridays only 9 - 10 pm: Margo can be found at the pub drinking. You can try and talk to them at high love Margo will offer you a seat. At high dominance, Margo will pull you onto [his/her] lap while continuing to drink. 

Schedule: weekend

12 - 5 pm: Margo will be working at the cafe There are events to bother [him/her] while [he/she] works but each bothersome action raises [his/her] lust and if you leave when Margo leaves Margo will drag you into combat behind the cafe.

If the “Margo is wanted” event has happened Margo would have been fired from the cafe so they will be un interactable at this time.

9 - 10 pm: Margo will be found outside the strip club roughing up or pickpocketing strangers. If [he/she] spots you and Margo has high dominance [he/she] will demand that you help them rob strangers. This is a good way to train skullduggery because with Margo targets are easier to rob.

Relationship:

You can raise your relationship statice with Margo over time by going to swim class and engaging with them or by tipping them at the cafe. If your love is high enough you can talk to Margo during lunch and [he’ll/she’ll] have a conversation with you. If you ask who [he/she] is waiting for Margo if low love will insist that you mind your business and leave. This will stop all interactions with Margo until your swimming lesson at the end of the day. if high love an event will trigger “Who is Margo waiting for”

Default: Margo Finds you annoying

Low Love: Margo wants you close

Mid Love: Margo finds you cute

High Love: Margo needs you. 

High dominance: you’re Margo’s pet

Dismissed: Margo left / Margo is imprisoned

Dismissing Margo: 

Margo can be dismissed if [his/her] dominance and love are gone and the “Margo is wanted” event has happened. At this point, Margo doesn't have a job and has blamed you for the loss of income. On a Sunday they can be found at the bus station. You can choose to interact with [him/her] 

Margo will tell you it's all your fault and say that they had a plan to get out of here on [his/her] own terms but now they can never leave this town because of you. 

There are three options that can either help/hurt or keep things neutral. 

[1] You can give Margo £100 for a bus ticket out of here. 

Getting Margo the money for a bus ticket means that [he/she] will never be seen again but Margo forgives you and promises to reinvent [himself/herself] when [she/he] gets to the next town over. 

[2] You can alert the security guard that Margo is wanted by the police

Alerting the security guard means that [he/she] will be taken to prison and will remain there until rescued. 

[3] Or you can simply walk away. 

Walking away means that you'll still run into Margo and can continue to interact with [him/her] but it'll be harder to gain affection and every Sunday at the bus station this event can repeat 

Events with Margo:

"Meeting Margo"

“Margo’s home”

“Margo is wanted” 

“Margo’s Christmas”

“Margo’s Halloween” 

“Who is Margo waiting for”

[yuritopiaofdeath]

HER SWORD

Duval is on the lookout today.

This could be your chance. You focus yourself to stay still - a difficult feat these last few nights. After you determine enough time has passed, you tentatively open your eyes. He's asleep. Ordinarily, you'd scold the lazy oaf for endangering your camp, but tonight, you were counting on him to sleep on the job.

You needn't sneak long, only far enough to reach your pack. There your date awaited. It was a foul joke to have to sneak in the dark to loot your own weapon, getting caught however would involve an explenation. An explanation you did not have. The rest of the group never approved of her. She unnerved them.

Especially Lavey.

She always looked down on you. Always doubted your strength even when you were children. Always trying to look after you. Even after you rescued everyone from the goblin camp. Covered head to toe in viscera. The day you found her. The day you went from a timid girl barely able to hold a dagger to a whirlwind of death. You had to fight to keep her, of course. They all called her cursed, demonic.

You were weak back then. Your eyes could only watch as your body cut down each foe with grace and skill you never dreamed possible. The goblin heads blooming into bloody roses before their eyes could even inform their tiny brains of the blade wielding maniac in front of them. It was so hard to stop. To regain control. But in the back of your mind, you heard her voice. She pulled away as soon as you reached out. Since then, you've learned to listen. You leaned to wield her and be wielded by her. When to give her control and when to take charge. It was a beautiful dance you two shared. One that left pieces inwake of monsters. Things that terrified you once were cut down in a blink. For the first time in your life, you didn't feel afraid. You felt invincible. As long as she was by your side.

Which is precisely the reason for this skullduggery. The group already distrusted your sudden increase of skill. Lavey only needed a reason to turn on you two. And catching you in bed with your blade was something that would definitely set her off. Alas, you couldn't hold out. Night after restless night. Tossing and turning. You needed her.

It wasn't enough to simply hear her in a flash of combat. You wanted more. Last battle... you toyed with your prey. You didn't want the fight to end. Her edge left only shallow licks along the beasts skin. You reached deeper than before. You felt her fear, anger, and hate. And you felt her reach into you. It was over soon. Lavey dealt the finishing blow, and you had to put your sword away. Not tonight.

You finally feel her hilt in your hands. Back where she belongs. It's usually so hard not to constantly fidget with her grip. Trace your fingers along the cloth wraps. You wondered so often what material it could be. So soft and pleasant to touch. Skin. Yes, these wraps feel like her skin. Like holding her hand or... something far more crass. What must her body look like? Does she even have one? No. You know her body well by now. The blade. You can't wait to see it. Her body.

The covers of your sleeping roll should provide privacy enough. You lay on your side. She's lying next to you. Both barely lit by the campfire. Her guard shines silver and gold in the dark. You can't help but be entranced by it. Fingers slowly trailing along the faded ancient designs etched into the quilllon. You're naked. You didn't want clothes to get in the way. You wanted to be close... and you wanted her to see you. She's already been inside you after all. It's only fair she'll see you as you are. It's making you quite anxious. You've never exposed yourself like this to anyone. Too much fear. Your body found lacking in the judgement of maidenhood in the eyes of others. You knew she wouldn't. The fear was still there. You brought her close. Like a child hugging a toy. No. She brought you comfort but she was embracing you back. You clutched her sheath between your legs. Her whispers caressed the back of your head. It felt good. You stroked her back, of course. Fingers tracing her pommel like petting a soft animal. You could almost hear her purr.

The way she protected you put you at ease. However, there was something still bothering you. She was still dressed.

You but your lip so hard it bled. This was no doubt an act of madness. You knew best her edge was as sharp as the void. Even the very air around it could split flesh. Ineed, you've lately been honing the art of decapitating your opponent without their skin ever touching the blade. To have that same blade against your most tender body parts...

Your hands were already pulling at the sheath. Reason be damned. You needed her. And soon, her gleaming silver body was stripped of its protection. She laid bare before you. The reflection of the fire danced along her smooth skin. You brought your finger to her edge and dragged along her leght.

Nothing.

Not even a drop of blood escaped your fingertips. She was as sharp as ever. You knew it to be true. And yet... she would not hurt you. Unable to hold back, you wrap your legs around her and press her tightly against your trembling body. There is no pain. She feels neither hot nor cold on your skin. Slowly, you bring your lips to her hilt. Leaving a gentle kiss on her pommel. This might look silly to some. Kissing your sword, griding along its blade. But you've never felt happier. You feel a warmth in your chest. You close your eyes and reach out.

And find her.

Her body ever changing. Shifting in form. Pale and frail. Viscerally feminine. Nothing like depictions of demons fed to you by the church.

You’ve seen her before.

In long buried memories. In times of play as a child. In times of shame of your body. In the endless nights unable to leave the dark comfort of your warm blanket.

She can see all of you.

Your past and present.

In this twisted realm at the border of your consciousness. This world inside your minds. A place only you share. You can both see each other fully.

You saw her let out a hollow laugh at centuries of destruction. You saw her embrace her humanity. You saw her betrayed. You saw her locked into this form. The loneliness of decades trapped in that wretched cave. Forgotten even by the foul creatures that came to call it home. The yearning to be found, to be embraced.

You both embraced each other in this twisted world. Exploring your new bond.

Your tongue danced along her sharp edge. Her hand sank between your legs. You felt the softness of otherworldly pale snakeskin of her demonic curves. Her metal gleamed dripping with your cum.

It’s only the two of you now.

You did not have an explanation for Lavey as to why you were making love to your sword when she awoke in the morning.

You hope that slashed, bloodied bodies of your former party mates was explanation enough.

You would not be separated.

[tortoisesshells]

For the Writer's Would You Ever: is there an AU for Customs & Duties (or another work!) that you'd like to write but haven't gotten the chance to yet?

Writer's Would You Ever?

Yes, absolutely! There's a completely ludicrous F.allout 4 AU that I maintain makes a lot of sense: it's still Boston, there's still skullduggery, they're still accidentally-on-purpose ruining each other's lives. There's just ... vastly more lasers and radiation damage and mid-century pop than there is in the original version.

Under the cut, because. well. I want to maintain a modicum of decorum on this blog.

(The cliff notes version of FO4 is. uh. Well. Imagine a world where post WWII western powers went all in on nuclear power, and then that October 23rd 2077 the world ended when the US and China blasted each other and everyone else off the face of the earth in a single day of nuclear war. With me? okay. Boston, 2287: ambient radiation is down, the Minutemen are trying to come back from the brink of organizational extinction after the Quincy Massacre, a mysterious organization called the Institute is kidnapping Commonwealth residents and replacing them with synths (functionally, lab-grown humans, many of whom don't actually know they're synths) to an unknown purpose, a similarly secretive organization called the Railroad is breaking synths out of their captivity within the Institute, and the B.rotherhood of Steel (a quasi-hereditary (except when not) military organization descended from a rogue Army unit (it's a long story) that believes that all advanced technology is too dangerous for civilians to control and that they must, therefore, take control of it for the common good) has rocked up to Boston in a giant metal zeppelin named for Arthurian legend. I mention this because B.oS ranks, too, take their cues from Arthurian lore and chivalric orders. They tend to think that anyone or anything that's not human-born human is inherently dangerous and tend to shoot first and ask questions later.)

Nellie's still a widow, still has two kids and a total unwillingness to look her bereavement in the eye and make peace with it ... she just also has a two-headed cow named Aunt Abigail, a mostly-two-hundred year old fishing boat that's held together with duct tape and goodwill towards man, a mutually beneficial scavenging-for-repairs relationship with the robot crew of USS Constitution, and a new-to-her solar panel array which is promptly stolen requisitioned by the new-in-town B.oS. So begins her mutually antagonistic relationship with the asshole tin-can Paladin Norrington, which is not improved by the B.oS's (non-canonical) attempts to confiscate the moonshot rockets from the Constitution's crew, and the deteriorating relationship between the Brotherhood and the Commonwealth on the whole.

I have written a snippet here and there, but here's the longest, mostly coherent bit:

The next time  Paladin Norrington saw Elinor Treat was at Fort Independence, sitting against the massive stone walls with a minuteman's laser across her knees and her usual cap drawn down over her eyes. Training day, the General (another short, tired woman) had said, and the exhausted residents strewn about the courtyard certainly seemed to back that up. "Elinor," he said, a little uncertainly, and when she did not reply, he called her name again. "Oh, it's you," she said, cracking an eye. "I didn't recognize your voice without your helmet. Come to pay me, have you?" "No," he said, startled. "Disappointing." She closed her eyes again, looking like she'd fall asleep in a moment. Feeling like an idiot, he said he wasn't expecting to see her here, so he had nothing to pay her with. Elinor snorted, accidentally whacking herself in the face with the barrel of her gun, before coming sighing and grumbling to her feet. It wasn't an impressive sight, but she managed to convey a kind of understated menace, even when she had to crane her neck a bit to glare.

I will furthermore add my tags from one of those "the last character you wrote for in the last video game you played: how are they doing?" - D.anse is the in-game B.oS companion and, slight spoilers, his dogmatic adherence to protocol does not save him:

#i DO think you could swap jimothy for danse. i do think the arcs of ' man defined by his rank and military prowess gets fucking bodied; #by realizing the organization he serves objectively sucks and is going to be the actual death of him and furthermore; #is willing to let that organization do it because of Reasons. ' are actually pretty similar. #that said. the more important thing is jimothy encountering Rocket Powered USS Constitution and the Nautical Robots; #I think he would enjoy himself immensely. or die of apoplexy. either way. #customs and duties aus