#scrimshaw based

[billiebustup-confessions]

Confession #315

[Confession: To be honest, even before the devs started headcanoning Scrimshaw as trans, i remember when i first saw Scrimshaw and i instantly thought that he was trans.]

[majorasnightmare]

actually cuz its on my mind

dirge grieving habits lets goooo

funeral practices dont come easily for him. he wasnt made to mourn. every death should be celebrated, after all. at the end of all things, thered be nothing left to mourn and no one worth mourning for. but dirge loves, and he grieves, and thus, he mourns.

it is an awkward, bumbling thing. funerals are for the living, after all. there is no body to bury, and he cannot even ask orin if she would want him to mourn her. cant ask how shed want to be remembered. if she wants him to remember her. the entire ordeal is nothing but his own ego, his own desires, his own projections. more guilt on top of it all. but he cant do nothing. cant let her go unremembered

so he theres a lone grave marker, overlooking the chionthar. the river always helped him find peace. its less a resting place and more a place to remember her (dirge knows where she is. there is no rest where shes gone)

i think that a month before his birthday/her death anniversary, dirge picks an art medium at random and spends that month trying to make something in it, and then takes the end product to her marker. leaves it there to show her his progress. and i think he spends the morning just talking. about how his life is going, what hes doing, what hes been thinking about. if hes remembered anything new. explains how he came out. talks about his regrets, his apologies, how much he wishes things could have turned out differently, how much he wishes bhaal didnt steal their lives from both of them. guilt and grief and shame and self indulgence and guilt all over again. doesnt know if shed be happy to be remembered when there was no one left for her, or if shed think it was just one more self serving gradiose gesture. he kind of suspects the latter, but he cant bring himself to stop.

its a private affair. goes by himself in the early morning. he wont ask anyone to mourn a monster. he wont deny thats what she was. but they were monsters together. he didnt deserve the second life he got but he has it anyways. orin may not deserve to be grieved but he loved her anyways. he doesnt ask minthara to come, or to help. wont ask her to remember her torturer. minthara lets him grieve a past he'll never recover, because at the end of it all, he chose her over himself. sacrificed everything, his life, his past, his sister, his power, just to keep her from being victimized at his hands. so if he wants to mourn a monster, she wont stop him. as she well knows, hes made a habit of loving them anyways.

[blacktabbygames]

Cant remember if you answered this already but do you guys have any personal favorite video games in 2024?

We've finished surprisingly few games this year, and I don't love weighing in on games I haven't finished, but here's some favorites we played (not all of them came out this year though!):

The demo for Perfect Tides Station to Station - I was lucky enough to get a sneak peak of the full first season in the sequel. The first Perfect Tides is one of my favorite interactive narratives of all time it really says something that the sequel so far blows the first game out of the water. Aspirationally good. Criminally underrated. League of its own. Thronefall - Great mix of tower defense hack and slash, and resource management.

South Scrimshaw, Part One - Phenomenal and imaginative visual novel styled as a documentary about the life cycle of a whale species on an alien planet.

1000xResist - Wildly complicated narrative that beautifully weaves together an astounding number of themes. What does it mean to yearn for a place that no longer exists? I would recommend going into it blind.

In Stars and Time - We're bad friends and didn't have the chance to finish it until this year. Really thoughtful time loop narrative. Made us cry.

Nine Sols - I'm breaking my "I haven't finished it" rule because I really like what I've played so far. It's also pretty hard so not something I want to pick up when I get tired. Brilliant metroidvania by Red Candle Games, who are one of our favorite developers. Quite a different direction than their previous titles though (Devotion and Detention.)

Thank Goodness You're Here - really funny slapstick adventure :)

Path of Exile 2 - Finally an ARPG with challenging gameplay that's deeper than spamming 4 buttons really fast.

Alan Wake II Welcome to Nightsprings DLC - SO clever and creative. Really loved the text-based adventure in the last one.

On my ever growing backlog: Animal Well, Lorelei and the Laser Eyes (I've heard people have needed physical notebooks for this one though so it might not be my speed), finish Indika, which is so stylish, finish Rise of the Golden Idol (loved the first game!) We've done so many things this year — Pristine Cut, move into a new place, get married, etc, so I've been too tired to engage with a lot of more difficult games.

[ltwilliammowett]

Scrimshawed Ostrich egg, c. 1775

Ostrich egg scrimshaw depicting seven sailing vessels of the Dutch East Indies Co.: "Mars", "Ant Conrardina", "Botlandt", "Groenendael", "Comp Welvaren" and "D Dankbaarhey" (depicted twice).

Following inscription on base:

"T.behoude vaare van het schip de Dankbaarheyt" "R.V.O.C"

[Translation: "The Safe Sailing of the Ship the Dankbaarheyt (the Gratitude)

R.V.O.C = R.Verimode Oostindische Compagnie United East Indies Co]

[billiebustupofficial]

Who was scrimshaw based off of?

I don’t think he really has an inspiration behind him 🤔

[moodymisty]

How does a space marine mark their favourite serf?

We already know that Night Lords have their blood ink tattoos and Space Wolves simply pee on their favourite, but what about the other legions? How would Astartes go about specifically marking their favourite serfs as theirs? So it got me thinking about the other 20 original legions and what their answer to this conundrum would be.

Salamanders handcraft specific pieces of jewelry and give them to their serf, each has a signature style and that style acts as an identifying mark. Another for the GPS club.

Blood Angels leave behind bite marks from repeated feedings. The bite marks and where the bite marks are placed identify the Astartes based on feeding preferences.

Ultramarines have filed out specific paperwork form A5 - 69 that now has you listed as their support serf/support wife. You have the paperwork and everything on you at all times to flash at anyone trying to hit on you.

The Raven Guard gives you a nice simple permanent anklet with different inscribing denoting a particular Astarte. You may or may not be GPS-chipped now.

If you are lucky then your Iron Warriors master will simply fashion you a nice iron collar with their information hanging from a tab. If you’re not, then the Iron Warriors will simply brand you with a customized burning iron, it’s quite painful.

Dark Angel will just stoically rub their face against you, trying to impart as much of their scent onto you as they can. Your goddam terrified and confused out of your mind as this occurs.

Iron Hands will augment you with specific pieces of valuable tech denoting you as being more valuable than other flesh bags, your permission is not asked for this procedure.

In the World Eaters, no one marks their serf as belonging to them, because of the simple fact that Angron would outright murder any Astartes he caught doing so, seeing too many connections between that and slavery.

For Luna Wolves they thankfully won’t impart their scent by peeing on you, they will however keep you in an all-night breeding session, arguing there is no greater way to claim a person than by getting them pregnant with their child. Truly their father’s sons.

For Word Bearers I don’t have any concrete ideas, but whatever it is it’s weird and it’s religious. Possibly a chastity belt, one that only they have the key for.

When an Alpha Legion astartes marks you there is no smell, mark or any other signifier. However any kind of marking ends up being somewhat moot. As when you are an Alpha Legionnaire, you are still obligated to share your serf with the rest of your Astartes brothers.

So apparently the White Scars ritually scar themselves with a long scar called an honour scar when they join the chapter. So any particular favoured serf is going to be ritually scarred in a specific manner similar to or resembling their master’s to showcase which white scar they belong to.

When it comes to the Death Guard I honestly have no idea for these guys and I don’t think I want to even consider it.

If an Emperor Children picks you as their serf then they’ll pick out very good and beautiful outfits to showcase that fact, there are a few specific pieces of high-quality clothing commonly used to denote a serf belonging to an Emperor Children. However, things get interesting in that regard when we get to post heresy…

To show ownership Imperial Fists will scrimshaw you a piece using some sturdy Xenos bone, with their scrimshaw style acting as identification.

If a Thousand Sons marks you as theirs, then expect warp magic shenanigans. How they mark you are going to be different with each Thousand Sons, though you’ll bet your bottom dollar that sorcery is always involved.

The Ultramarine one made me laugh out loud XD Some of these are definitely what I imagine what a SM of each chapter would do, within reason.

[orangeplaneta]

Sketch based on @rahabs fic "Scrimshaw" which is insanely good!

[bbu-fan-blog]

BBU Characters and how they feel around kids:

Ok, based on all of this info:

Dutch: he'd be a very devoted father.

Barnaby: also very good and devoted, but apparently there's some complications there.

Fantoccio: Not very good with kids, since he doesn't understand them, but he'd still try.

Elaine: She'd make kids cry, so no.

Scrimshaw: Surprisingly good with children.

Percy: Also good with kids.

Hayes: They'd go into panic mode.

Basile: Not the best, but he can learn.

Z: He's not good, and he hates them.

Personal conclusions: Aristotle is still the best "Rad Magic Dad"!

[chknbzkt]

He’s been done for two weeks but I was holding him ransom for me to finish Roxy 😭 but here ya go!

I literally just based him off a more dexterous Kaprosuchus if that means anything 💀 those guys are dragons in their own right

I like the one on the bottom left the most <3

Stuff and things under the cut!

Tucked away from the cold up north in the Icerun, Scrimshaw Marsh gets its name from the abundance of ancient dead things (their skeletons specifically) peppered throughout and overgrown with rich plant life. These hallmarks of ages past make perfect hiding spots for big toothy things like our boy here to get the drop on the unwary.

Montgomery lives a life of rugged solitude, as while he’s certainly nothing to scoff at he is far from the only varmint prowling these muddy waters. As such, plenty of folks tend to steer clear of the far south of Scrimshaw altogether, as he and the rest of the bitey things frequent those waters more often than not.

Monty himself has amassed a reputation (knowing or otherwise) as an indiscriminate sinker of boats and a terror of villages who depend on the marsh for food and resources. That said, no one has ever truly laid eyes on him, as those he targets at what seems to be random never actually live to tell about it.

As such, more and more unrest and discontent among the locals is on the rise, as these attacks didn’t start until fairly recently and the rest of the wildlife was fairly well-behaved in comparison until this outlier started making a mess.

Which is to say, whether he’s aware of it, Monty here has a bounty on his head, he’s been labeled a “problem dragon” and all sorts of monster hunters can come forward and deal with him as they please, just so long as he doesn’t cause trouble for the locals any further.

Some are far less gracious than others.

That all said, I did say these attacks occurred at seemingly random… though some quieter folks whisper to those who will listen that they’ve seen eyes unlike the foreboding dim yellow of the shades, peering at them from the marshes on their way home with their haul in the evening hours, watching them, judging them…

They’d been caught out and away from the safety of their homes past sunset, and the shades that dwell in the muggy wetness of the mangroves and bones eagerly descended upon them.

For sure they would have vanished and their children left wondering what happened to them.

Instead the marshes, gone eerily, knowingly silent in anticipation of the harrowing fate of the unfortunate fishing couple, exploded with raucous splashes and uproarious thrashing.

Almost as soon as the fiercesome ruckus started, it was over. Another, more intense pair of eyes that seemed to glow with not malice but something else less antagonistic, continued to ogle them from the privacy of the reeds.

…and they made it home safe and sound as the piercing red lights sunk quietly into the marsh.

Call them old and foolish, perhaps there’s more to this mess than meets the eye.

[inkformyblood]

fight for me (love me) [COD Mermay 2024, PriceGhost]

Pirate Captain Price x Mer Ghost

There is a peculiar kind of silence that descends over the ship at nighttime when they’re on the open water. Not another soul in sight except the poor sod on nightwatch up in the nest and Price himself, his coat thrown around his shoulders against the evening chill and a rationed measure of tobacco in the pouch at his waist. He ducks around the side of his cabin, putting solid distance and structure between himself and any prying eyes before he reaches for it. 

He isn’t just carrying tobacco with him after all. 

The scrimshaw is the same size as his hand, a jagged break along the base where it had been joined to gum, and the scene carved into it is one Price knows well. He’s studied it often enough to memorise every smooth line and every darkened segment that came together to make something beautiful. He also knows what the men think of it, that it’s a talisman of some woman Price has left behind on shore, his perceived betrayal that set a bounty on his head and sent him prowling the ocean like some misguided legend tearing him away from her. He isn’t going to tell them that they’re wrong. His ‘woman’ is much closer to hand. 

Price makes up his pipe, cupping his hand around the bowl as he strikes a match. In the tiny golden flare as it catches, something moves far beneath him, a huge shape disturbing the surface and causing the ship to rock gently. He breathes in smoke, the familiar bitter taste of everything he’s denied burning through him, old anger given fresh life for a moment, and leans over the side of the ship. “Simon? Going to show your face?”

What answers him is divinity made flesh, a behemoth from legend discarded into the ocean and left to wander the world adrift and alone. Until Price had found him. Until he had found Price. 

There’s blood on Simon’s mouth, a scab torn open along the jut of his lip, and it fogs the water sluicing off of his skin as he surfaces. He doesn’t rise far, not as high as Price has seen him go before, but enough that he can curl his fingers over the edge of the ship, keeping himself upright. The water beneath him begins to churn as his tail works, the ship shifting incrementally as Simon works against current and wind and the fragile thread of the anchor to keep himself upright. Barely takes him any effort, Price notes, his expression still as blank as ever, no furrow on his brow like Price would expect from a human or grimace pulling at the jagged corners of his mouth. Simon’s gaze is fixed on Price, familiarity scratching at the base of his skull before Price can place the expression; an old hunting dog he’d owned as a boy, the same rapt attention, the same sense of waiting for a command Price didn’t know at the time, the instruction to kill. He knew it now, after all. Price is too old not to.

“Been fighting, lad?” Price bites on the stub of his pipe, fitting his teeth into the worn-in marks and kneels carefully, bracing himself on the railing. Simon’s left space for him between the cage of his arms and the lingering trap of his teeth and Price sits, swings his legs over the side. Frigid sea water soaks through his trousers, a fresh spray against his face, and Price grits his teeth against it, burns his lungs with another drag as he fits the scrimshaw back into the pouch at his waist. 

Leaning forwards, his boots digging into the growth of algae and barnacles along the side of the ship, Price cups Simon’s jaw. Inhaling brings a fresh glow to cast harsh shadows across Simon’s face, the dark sheen of his eyes still fixed on Price as he shifts his grip to Simon’s chin and extends his thumb to swipe over the pout of Simon’s lower lip. It’s softer than he expects even now, given the wreath of pale scales splashed over Simon’s face, following the contours of his skull into some grotesque mockery of what lies beneath. 

There’s a strong odour of salt as Simon’s mouth parts beneath Price’s touch, older blood caked across the jagged stretch of his lower teeth, and Price breathes through his mouth, filling his lungs with smoke and ash. He presses his thumb against the sluggish bleeding mark, a distance sense of warmth beginning to catch on the frozen pad before Price leans back. With his free hand, he removes the pipe, holding it out to Simon and the other man takes it carefully, his teeth tucked behind his lips. It looks comical, a child outfitted in a man’s shirt that falls past his knees, a hat falling over his eyes and a pipe he doesn’t know the concept of stuffed into his mouth, but then, Simon inhales, the gills along his neck flaring wide, and Price laves his thumb over an offering from a god. 

The corner of Simon’s mouth quirks upwards, the expression drawn sharper by the curved scar that bisects his cheek from the corner of his mouth. “I won,” he tells Price flatly, his voice deep, a whale’s song echoing up from the fathoms. 

Price laughs, reclaiming his pipe from Simon’s mouth. Tastes like salt but everything does after a stretch of time out at sea, hungry mistress that she is, stripping everything one by one from a man sentenced into her embrace. There’s a sharper bite to Simon’s blood compared to Price’s familiarity to his own, a bitter taste that lingers over his tongue even through another draw on his pipe. It would be several days before Price would stop tasting it. “I bet you did, lad. Any trinkets left for me?”

It’s a strange turn of events that had left Price here, a wanted pirate, exiled from the land of his birth, and in an alliance of a kind with a creature from the deep. He wonders, at times, what Simon gets out of their Fasutian bargain. He could sink Price’s ship as easily as any other, break a hole in their hull and listen to them scream as they drown, but he doesn’t, instead letting Price point him at his enemies, shattering every move made against him. 

“Yes.” Simon blinks, a second eyelid drawing across his eyes leaving them milky before it retreats. “Less than a day east. Pulled it closer. Should see the scavengers circling before daybreak.”

Simon would drown him eventually, pull him down into the depths and swallow down his final desperate breath of air, but, before then, Price would rule with Simon at his side, circling the bloody waters at his feet.

“Atta lad,” Price murmurs. He cups Simon’s jaw once more, removing his pipe as he leans forward. It would be easy for him to fall like this, supported entirely by Simon remaining in place. One quick motion from the other man, a harsh wave hitting the side of the ship, and Price would be gone, just another mystery to be discussed when the stars overhead leant in close. He kisses Simon carefully, ever-conscious of the razor-sharp teeth hidden for the moment, his breath fogging against the other man’s cooler skin n leaving an imprint that would only last as long as Price lingers this close. Simon’s scales catch on his moustache, tugging at the skin beneath, and Price retreats, swinging the hand clutching his pipe back to the support of the ship as he pulls himself upright. 

Simon’s grin is wide and full of teeth, hungry in a way Price cannot put into words, the open-mouthed devouring focus of a predator willingly leashed for now. Price’s attention moves to the dark gap in Simon’s teeth, a singular row, each the size of his hand, and coaxes another breath out of his pipe. Smoke clouds his vision for a moment, but he senses Simon retreating, sliding back beneath the waves and Price is alone as he ever is once more. 

[billiebustup-confessions]

Confession #172

[ID: A cropped screenshot of a Tumblr ask, saying, “i had a dream last night where skrimshaw was a fish and elaine had eight legs. i don’t. i don’t understand.

elaine also shapeshifted into j from murder drones so maybe i should just be banned from dreaming”. End of ID.]

[palatteflags]

South Scrimshaw video game based moodboard! ^^ For an anon!! Hope you like the look!

Want one? Send an ask! -mod Jay

[inexplicifics]

Having been reminded that beetle wing embroidery exists, and that whole bit about ichor-based dyes, what other embellishments might people use in the AWAU or Wolfblood verse? Obviously insect wing cases, but what about scales, carved claw or bone? Would they retain any properties that might affect the design or the garment itself? (Does Lambert surprise Milena with a lapful of souvenirs from a hunt after he finds out about the practice?)

Oooh, what a cool question. I think I have it somewhere - possibly in a WIP - that Witcher armor uses some monster parts, but I doubt they would have thought of using it for fashion until Jaskier and Milena came along.

Ciri's outfits for the Progress are going to be ornamented with monster bone and scales, aren't they? Gods, she's gonna set utterly unachievable fashion standards by accident. Milena's going to be so proud.

And I wouldn't be at all surprised if Witchers did scrimshaw on monster bones or fangs and claws. It seems like a good portable hobby with resources they'd have on hand.

Anyone who knows more about fashion than I do, please chime in with monster bits that could be used to adorn clothing, because that's a really cool idea!

[ltwilliammowett]

Polychrome scrimshawed whale tooth, by Edward Burdett, c. 1830-33

Inscribed on lower edge "Engraved, By. Edward Burdett. Of Nantucket. Onboard Of The Ship Wm Tell." Obverse titled "Wm Tell. Of. New York. Cutting. Boiling. & Fast To A Whale." Depicts the American whaleship William Tell flying a large American flag off her stern. A whaleboat off her bow is in the process of capturing a surfaced sperm whale. Another American whaleship, the George and Susan, is depicted near the tip. Reverse titled "Wm Thomson. Homeward Bound. Full."

Depicts the American whaleship William Thomson flying a large American flag, an agent''s flag off the foremast, a waving pennant off the midmast and a house flag off the stern mast. A coastal lighthouse and house is off the bow. Exceptional details throughout including a lookout in a mast and a rooster-form weather vane atop the lighthouse.

A stylized foliate vine, typical of Burdett''s style, wraps almost completely around the circumference of the base. Extensive use of red sealing wax in flags, whale and whale blubber. Ship''s hull, sperm whale, whaleboat, pennant, house flag and American flags carved in relief.

[the-aftonsparv]

based on the song modify!

[princess-of-the-corner]

This chat with https://www.tumblr.com/princess-of-the-corner/766822270686625792/this-all-started-with-helping-a-friend-rework?source=share was really fun cos we hammered out the Revised Goat powers in more detail and you might like them!

So their domain is still Genesis/Preservation, but it manifests in the art of Scrimshaw, IE, carving symbols into bones. The users has all sorts of fetishes on their uniform, horns, and goat like eyes and a carving kit.

The power is one that is slow and deliberate, Its imbuing a new form of life into the dead materials (Genesis) with the creation of magical charms with a degree of life of their own. Or one can preserve themself, or an ally, be it physically, or in terms of helping then sustain their form when utilizing an unhealthy amount of power.

Because of this they are a heavy support Miraculous as creating life (Over just raw creation) is a delicate and slow process, while preservation mostly keeps people going in bad circumstances until healed.

Scrim: So my power is really more subtle and support based. Kagami: But I don't want to play support, I want to hit people with a sword. Scrim: Then carve carve of femur or start stabbing people with out tools I'm not your manager.

Later

Kagami (Scrimshaw) Why didn't they mention I would have horns!? Chat: Why does that matter? Kagami (Scrimshaw) Because it means I can gore my enemies. Chat: Metal.

As an aside, this means Gabriel could continue sending out minions if he lost the Butterfly to Felix and Amelie (Remember in Revised Kwami lore, the Senti Kids are Akuma Kids)

Gabrtiel: Muhahahaha, yes, by combining multiplication and Genisis I can craft these mast-work bone soldiers in no time at all and I shall be unstoppable! Scrim: This is an abhorrent abuse of real art, its one step below mass production. Mulo: & making and releasing monsters hasn't worked for you s far. Gabriel: No one asked for your opinion!

Scrim: Did you pull ever skeleton out of the Paris catacombs to get all this bone!? Gabriel: Of course not that would be very expensive, I just used Multiplication on it, grounded the bones into powder, had them 3D printed and am now going to Scrimshaw them. Scrim: I hate you.

Kagami is having fun