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@skuldxggxry-archive
[ ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴄᴇ ɪꜱ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ, ᴜɴᴛɪʟ ɪᴛ'ꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴʟʏ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ. ] indie skullduggery pleasant mutuals, 18+ only loved by anna
a study in obsessive revenge, in forgetting what has been long lost, in re-imagining oneself entirely. in freedom, in magic, in what it means to be human long after death
rules - mun - muse
[ ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴄᴇ ɪꜱ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ, ᴜɴᴛɪʟ ɪᴛ'ꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴʟʏ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ. ] indie skullduggery pleasant mutuals, 18+ only loved by anna
a study in obsessive revenge, in forgetting what has been long lost, in re-imagining oneself entirely. in freedom, in magic, in what it means to be human long after death
rules - mun - muse
[ ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴄᴇ ɪꜱ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ, ᴜɴᴛɪʟ ɪᴛ'ꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴʟʏ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ. ] indie skullduggery pleasant mutuals, 18+ only loved by anna
a study in obsessive revenge, in forgetting what has been long lost, in re-imagining oneself entirely. in freedom, in magic, in what it means to be human long after death
rules - mun - muse
[ ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴄᴇ ɪꜱ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ, ᴜɴᴛɪʟ ɪᴛ'ꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴʟʏ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ. ] indie skullduggery pleasant mutuals, 18+ only loved by anna
a study in obsessive revenge, in forgetting what has been long lost, in re-imagining oneself entirely. in freedom, in magic, in what it means to be human long after death
rules - mun - muse
{{ this blog is now a LONG OVERDUE ARCHIVE! please follow at @skuldxggxry
[ ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴄᴇ ɪꜱ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ, ᴜɴᴛɪʟ ɪᴛ'ꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴʟʏ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ. ] indie skullduggery pleasant mutuals, 18+ only loved by anna
a study in obsessive revenge, in forgetting what has been long lost, in re-imagining oneself entirely. in freedom, in magic, in what it means to be human long after death
rules - mun - muse
{{ heeeyyy it's been a LOONG time no see. Six years to be exact. Fact is, i'm over at another blog that I recently revived... but I've been feeling a certain kick. what if. What if. I rebooted this blog.
With his sunglasses gone and his scarf hanging down, there was no denying that he had no FLESH, he had no s k i n, he had no eyes and he had no face. All he had was a SKULL for a head.
_______________ [ Indie Skulduggery Pleasant Written by Anna ]
finally, now that tech & opening is done, I can sit down & make myself some new promos & posts this week.
amazon prime’s the boys sentence starters ↪ taken from seasons 1 & 2. contains non-contextual mild s2 spoilers. some have been slightly altered to better fit out of context. alter as you see fit ♡
“i’m supposed to be this hero, but i don’t know what the hell i’m doing.”
“just remember who your friends and who your enemies are.”
“you can’t do this. you don’t have the fight, you never have.”
“my superpower is reading people. watching them when they think they’re alone. i see people for who they really are.”
“why have average when you can have extraordinary?”
“if i’m gonna make a difference, i just feel more comfortable doing it on a smaller scale.”
"i know a little about a lot of things.”
“never let them see you like this.”
"just ‘cause you fall on your ass doesn’t mean you have to stay there.”
"since when did "hopeful” and “naive” become the same thing?”
“you need to unclench your asshole.”
“i can do whatever the fuck i want.”
"pardon my french: fuck those fuckers.”
"you tell anyone what you saw or heard here today, and i’ll cut your hands off and shove them so far up your ass, your fingers’ll give us a little wave out your throat, yeah?”
“when they’re apart, they’re absolute fucking rubbish. but, you put them together, they’re the goddamn fucking spice girls.”
“sometimes you get further with people by treating them like people.”
“i really did want to make a difference. i really did care. i was just like you.”
“i started giving pieces of myself away and i guess i gave away everything.”
“you see, i know your secret.”
“you’re not a bad person. just a scared one.”
“what have you got to lose that you ain’t already lost?”
“i figured if you wait around long enough, two plus two equals nasty.”
“here’s the truth. anyone who tells you they know the answers is lying.”
“you know, i managed to go my whole life without seeing someone die horribly, and now i’m up to about a half dozen, so i think i’m good.”
“we’ll cross that bridge when we burn it.”
“in a partnership, there is give and there is take.”
“i should’ve done a lot more stuff. because there is nothing up there. there’s nobody in the sky watching over us. not anybody. it’s all just lies.”
“i don’t know if they really want you to be a hero. i think they just want you to look like one.”
“he is too much of an asshole to die.”
“fuck this world for confusing nice with good. be a bitch if you want. be whatever. just drop the mask once in a while. feels good. you can finally breathe.”
“[name], how is it possible that you’re dumber than you look?”
“[name], you’ve done a murder. comparatively speaking, this will be a piece of cake.”
“we didn’t bring him here for a fucking happy meal.”
“i’ve got my phone linked to the ‘find your shithead friends’ app.”
“i just had to pop down to the shop. i was running a bit low on ‘mind your own fucking business’.”
“you know something? on my first day, I, uh … well, i felt like a fraud. but the good news is, everybody feels that way.”
“you ever touch me again, i will burn your eyes out. understand me?”
“wou know how you have this… image of yourself? like, i thought i was strong. you know? like, made of steel. a fighter.”
“uf you’re the fucking reason i can’t finish that vermont country dollhouse, i will fucking end you.”
“you are dispensable, which means you answer to me.”
“you’ve been walking around for months like you want to kick my ass. so do it already.”
“i can be that person that nobody thinks is awesome, but it turns out, they’re kind of fucking awesome.”
“i’m sorry but we’re not anything.”
“my nana’s your biggest fan.”
“not even [name] would have dared to try and pull this kind of shit.”
“shouldn’t we all just be competent at our jobs?”
“we can do whatever we want and no one can stop us. that is a good feeling. a really good feeling.”
“you need to get the fuck out of my house.”
“you were right. i’m not gonna get bored and move on. i’m not going anywhere.”
“life isn’t actually a pr strategy. you can say what you think.”
“pippi longstocking would bite a d, that’s for damn sure.”
“you write all women as either unknowable hitchcock bitches or michael bay fuck dolls. i mean, i get that a lifetime of jerking off to transformers didn’t exactly make you popular with the ladies, but a little effort would be nice.”
“i don’t think we have to damage control your fuck up.”
“look at you. my girl.”
“nobody likes almond joy. – jeffrey dahmer. that’s it. he’s the only one.”
“jesus christ! those are like the three worst candy bars in the history of candy. that’s it, you’re sick in the brain.”
“i’m wanted and you’re kind of super famous.”
“he’s an actor who didn’t lie to my face everyday.”
“don’t lie to me, not again.”
“she was already dead when i blew her up.
“my son is the furthest fucking thing on this planet to a normal little boy.”
“this is a moment. girls get it done.”
“there is just no putting the toothpaste back in the tube.”
“mom says being lonely makes you know yourself better.”
“i just want you to think about me when you are getting your skin peeled off your face, bitch.”
“you don’t fuck with the money. you never fuck with the money.”
“you’re my second wind.”
“it doesn’t matter who made us, or how we got here, the point is we are here. together. family. you guys, you are my real family.”
“oh, is it so hard to believe that i want you two to be happy? and in love? honestly [name], i am really, really happy for you.”
“the hate that you carry and the warpath that you’re on, it started so long before me.”
“we can’t afford to feel good or to feel safe or to let our guard down.”
“we’re all alone. that’s the truth.”
“i don’t need anyone but myself.”
“you’re so special, that most special man on the planet. everybody loves you. everybody. their love is your strength.”
“where’s the closest atm?”
“you let your canary die, how you gonna know when you’ve gone too far?”
“you know what i thought? i thought who fucking cares?”
“fuckin’ diabolical.”
“i’m a motherfucker with a heart.”
SPIRIT | @metuere
Spirit looks closely enough to see: darkness? Just darkness. It could be the reflection of nighttime sky or the tint of his glasses. She’s not smart enough to yet suspect skeletal sockets. The occasional click of Skulduggery’s tongue is the only thing stopping her from believing she’s speaking to a spectre floating in a man’s clothes.
It’s as interesting as the banshee and not nearly as depressing. She mirrors his pose without thinking about it; it’s a subconscious attempt to look more qualified for investigations of this sort than her twenty-something garb and cloudy green eyes suggest.
“Your job? Who hired you, the drunks?”
Has she seen the banshee? Spirit answers before Skulduggery can say who hired him. She’s desperate to be as in on this as he is.
“I hear her. And I hear she drowned someone—no one else knows she did it, I thought. Ruled an accident, they say—” She diverts her own train of thought. “—I don’t know what to do when other people can see then. When it gets that heavy.”
He watches her carefully, (a wariness growing about him), a care to not give himself away, as she mirrors his own gesture, as her hands settle upon her own hips, like a child pretending to be all grown up amongst a party of boring adults. Even if such was the case, it seemed to display her age even further to the detective, whose head cocks to the side, & who tries not to let out a long sigh. It was always the young adults who were like this. So eager & excited, & desperate to prove themselves. Not at all like the dull grown ups, who wandered about like the dead & gave uninspired, often stupid answers, so blind to the world around them. It was the young adults who always glowed with life & passion-- & a desire to be included. Adults never wanted included. Not on anything like this. Secretly, he’s hoping he won’t have any reason to tell the sensitives about her. It never felt right to alter the memories of people so early in their lives. Especially the mortals... god knew they had so little to remember, anyway. He’s opening his mouth to answer her question, a chortle caught between his teeth, but she’s speaking over him again & Skulduggery finds himself straightening his spine, a gloved hand reaching up & back, to scratch at the back side of his head. So.... she did know about the Banshee. That was undeniable. & that would make Skulduggery’s job just a tad more difficult. Inhale, exhale. His chest moves with the sound, the rest of his body deathly still. His mind is racing to come up with an answer that won’t give too much away. “First of all,” His voice slips out slow, at first, though it gains its regular lilting speed quickly, as if he hadn’t been shaken in the least, as he once more glances behind him ( as his hand falls back to his side, a long index finger tapping against his thigh, ) “No, uh... no, no drunks hired me,” A slight chuckle, a shake of the head, a slight shrug caught at the edge of his figure, “I’m afraid I can’t tell you exactly who hired me...all of this is.. just a little secret, you know. Just believe me when I say that the situation is in very, very good hands. Now, erm... second,” Here, he pauses. considers his words carefully, sends another glance over his shoulder. There’s a gust of wind that tugs itself across the land, at bites at the branches of the trees, & at Skulduggery’s side, his fingers flex & bunch into a fist, (& his hat & coat do not even budge as the cold autumn breeze passes by.) “Second: there are a few people that know the true nature of the drowning, & they’re all people that call the woman by what she is. They’re also the people telling regular citizens that the drowning was a mere accident-- & for good reason. Normal people aren’t supposed to know about the reality Banshees, & it’s the job of people like me to make sure that the Banshees don’t make themselves known... whether by their mere presence or by their sheer bloodlust. As far as anyone else is concerned, they are what they’ve always been: mere myth. & me & my employers would like to keep it that way... at least, in the eye of the public.” There is another hesitation. His hand is raising again, to straighten his tie against his chest, & the scarf shifts ever so slightly with it, flashes bleached white of a cheekbone, (as he moves to right the wrong.) Tries not to draw too much mind to it. “You say that you hear her-- That’s... not completely uncommon. But if you’ve been seeing her, well. That’s an entirely different can of worms. Do you see strange things often?”
Hey y’all!! I’m still here- This week has been crazy busy & emotionally stressful so I’ve not been online at all. We are finishing up tech for a show right now, but as soon as opening is finished this weekend, I’ll be back in for more replies & ask responses <3
With his sunglasses gone and his scarf hanging down, there was no denying that he had no FLESH, he had no s k i n, he had no eyes and he had no face. All he had was a SKULL for a head.
_______________ [ Indie Skulduggery Pleasant Written by Anna ]
NIAMH || @intothewildsea·
@skuldxggxry·
“You know, when you asked me to move in with you, I didn’t realize just how much junk I have to go through in order to do so.”
Niamh looks at the half-empty boxes, the expression on her face wavering between overwhelmed and exasperated. In her arms is a pile of books, which she is torn between discarding or keeping. She can’t read, but they have pretty pictures, and she likes to look through them…
Oh, she’s the worst at this. She’s been trying to pack up the sitting room for at least three hours by now.
How she was able to fit so much junk into her tiny cottage, she’ll never know. “How can I choose what to keep and what to get rid of? I want to keep all of it.” Not surprising, considering she spent most of her life in the sea where she had no possessions, save for her sealskin and some seashells. She’s gotten quite the collect of knick-knacks and other little things.
She turns to Skulduggery, pouting, books still hugged in her arms. “Help?”
Her voice is like the lapping of the sea against the shore, lilting & beautiful, & Skulduggery finds himself lost in its tone- even among such menial tasks, even now. It had been such a whirlwind, moving forward, asking her to move in-- unplanned, it was true, but what great adventures ever had a clear cut road map? All he knows is that he is at peace, for once in a very, very long time. At peace, & with a woman he adores. Gloved hands shove into pockets, ankles crossed as the man (the dead man), leans against the doorway & watches on with blank skull staring ever forward. But there’s a posture of warmth & interest that holds him, that suggests bright eyes & soft smiles. & When she turns to him? A laugh.
“Junk? Now, who’s to say it’s junk?” His voice, Irish velvet against the air, seems to exude affection, as he steps forward & over a box of knick-knacks, bends down, & plucks out a single piece of sea-worn glass. It’s dull at its edges & unrecognizable from what it once was, (but pretty, & shining at its center, like a jewel.) Trash? Perhaps, a long time ago. But trash once ugly, shaped by the sea... & made beautiful. Maybe, perhaps, a touch like his own heart. His skull tilts. He glances at Niamh. “.... All right, there may be a few things here that wouldn’t be everyone’s.... er.... well... treasures.” He’s teasing, of course. The smile is clear in his tone. The piece of glass is put back gently, with care. He knows it matters to her. It all matters to her, in some way. & who better than Skulduggery to understand the importance of small joys? Pause. There’s a breath of silence. He thinks. “But,” His hand, now, at his side flexes, (& there’s the feeling of magic that seems to fill the space about him,) & a box, pushed by the very air in the room, settles beside him. There’s a sharpie inside. Upon the box, he writes in bold, sloppy letters: K E E P. His other hand is reaching out, asking (wordlessly) for permission to hold the books cradled in her arms. “If you are intent upon sorting through it all, well... We’ll start with these: Do you like these books, & would you like to keep them?” He thinks he knows the answer, for all of it. Upon a yes, of course, he’ll settle them in the box. She doesn’t need to worry about it- he had an attic, & a vault, & Skulduggery doesn’t mind renting a moving van if that’s what it takes to get it all home. It’s clear his mind is made up, at least: he hadn’t bothered to make a box that said trash.
GHASTLY || @motleyscrew·
the door to the shop opens and ghastly knows the presence long before he looks up. skulduggery. the air he brings with him is distinct. “long time, skul,” this might be the first time they’ve seen each other since ghastly’s finished physical therapy. his hands shake minutely - not enough to warrant concern, unless the other knew where to look. he offers a warm smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes - never seems to these days. he sets down the stitching he’s working on - it’s crooked, anyhow, he’ll have to start over - and folds his hands on the table to stop the visible tremors. “what can i do for you?”
@skuldxggxry· // HERE WE GO AGAIN
Gloved hands press against door, pushing the man’s way in, (slow, hesitant,) as if there is a heaviness following the detective, wrapped about him, a strange, somber sorrow- After all, how else should Skulduggery feel, visiting this good, good friend, knowing how much had been taken from him? Ghastly, of course, recognizes him immediately- how could he not?- but the welcome feels stale, the smile unfinished, broken, (like a chipped teacup: not quite whole.) Skulduggery, of course, makes every effort to seem as if he hasn’t noticed. His hands have shoved, nonchalant, into his pockets, his long legs carrying him to the nearest countertop where he leans, unceremoniously, back against it. His hat is tilted, of course, as always, at that impossible, cocky angle, & his chin raises, the hint of a smile at his ever-grinning teeth. If he was wearing his facade, he might have even raised a brow. “Ghastly,” His voice is a rolling laugh, a joke, trying to lighten the mood. But the worry is slipping through. That somber nature is sticking to his ribs. “Really? After all this time as your friend, you only see me as a customer?? Tut-tut... & here I was, thinking I was allowed to simply-” Pause. His voice has cracked. His weight shifts, his chest heaves. His tone is changing, lowering. He can’t keep pretending. “... To simply check in on you. How... are you?” Ghastly. If only Skulduggery had been smarter. Maybe you wouldn’t have needed to suffer.
this week is beating me to a pulp
HEY SO I had a semi-worrysome medical thing happen last night that is TOTALLY OKAY NOW, but really stressed me out all day, but then I was actually okay so I played a drinking game to celebrate & may have gotten fairly tipsy, so I am honestly completely fried from doing anything whatsoever. Not at all how I planned the day out, but. It is what it is. I am planning on making myself a new promo tomorrow & replying to threads/starters/inbox as well! Please feel free to tag me in starters or send Skug stuff through the inbox at this time <3 Thanks, guys!
