So... Deadlands but make it a Guild?
Putting it under read more because there's a lot.
So given the Deadlands characters have very little backstory we are headcannoning a lot here. Bare with me.
Edie, I imagine as a rouge (was torn with bard), who uses her sweet charms to get the information she needs. Picks up shifts in taverns in exchange for a roof for a few days.
Garnet is just Prudance 2.0. Since we don't know much of backstory, I can imagine her being a reserved magic user who does not talk about where her magic comes from, because lets be honest a less than savoury patron really doesn't go down well. (Also the idea of her having like a deck of many things, or where her patron picks the cards delt to deal damage would be fun)
Silas, I'm sorry this man is a barbarian. There is no other thing he could be, it's the unfiltered rage. Though I liked the idea of him duel wielding blades like his pistols. Also having miss matched armour to reflect he used to be someone important, the hints of his 'law man' image.
Nate, Okay so. Nate I struggled with. I'm thinking a paladin of some kind? Also I don't know how to translate, was at one point dead and now lives on alcohol and jerky, other than the common stereotype of Dwarves. So. Yeah. Sorry Nate. Though I do imagine him keeping his shirt as if it was something his late wife embroiderd for him and now it's too sentimental to get rid of so it's got patches holding it together.
Delacy, the idea of this relatively human party having a child half orc running around with them felt apt but also the level of humor of oxventure. Also Delacy being an unusually strong child also very good. I can imagine him being a fighter or some combat specific class.
If anyone has any better ideas, hit me up I'm not 100% on all of these, so please add your own to them.
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It took me a long time to realize this because, but the conversation between Lady Catherine and Elizabeth is rude, but for the most part, Lady C is not wrong.
“Why did not you all learn? You ought all to have learned. The Miss Webbs all play, and their father has not so good an income as yours. Do you draw?”
“No governess! How was that possible? Five daughters brought up at home without a governess! I never heard of such a thing. Your mother must have been quite a slave to your education.”
“All! What, all five out at once? Very odd! And you only the second. The younger ones out before the elder are married! Your younger sisters must be very young?”
Yes! They all should have learned and they probably should have had a governess. Especially Lydia and Kitty. The other heroines without a governess (Catherine Morland, possibly the Dashwoods) do have very attentive parents who manage their education. The Bennets don’t have dowries, they could at the very least be educated. It’s far less expensive.
And yes! It’s insane to have five daughters out at once. Even if we just look at it from a financial standpoint, that means five girls need ballgowns and adornment all at once. Families usually put only one or two girls out because of the prohibitive expense. And then we have of course the fact that Lydia is probably too young to be out anyway.
Elizabeth defends her family’s choices, kind of, or at least gives an explanation, but not allowing her family to be dragged through the mud is different than saying her upbringing was correct. And even if she kind of agrees with her family’s justification now, she certainly realizes how devastating these choices were later.
And yet, because Jane Austen is so clever, Lady Catherine is still a rude idiot. A good deal of what she says even during this conversation is ridiculous and condescending. But that is the genius of Austen, she sets up this argument so you get on Elizabeth’s side, even though Elizabeth is wrong. Which is the same as with Caroline Bingley’s warning about Wickham, we discount it because we dislike her and she sneers, but in her speech is the truth.
It’s a nice parallel with Darcy’s first proposal. He’s not wrong, but he is still a rude, condescending jerk about it.
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your posts about English folk culture being treated as esoteric within England reminded me of a conversation I had with my dad relatively recently. I was complaining about how much I hated doing scottish country dancing in P.E every year in school and he, having grown up in London, mentioned that he never did any kind of folk dancing in school and it really surprised me.
Having an Irish family and growing up in Scotland I just assumed that folk culture would be a big part of national identity in England because it def is in Ireland and scotland. I mean I grew up in the city and I went to a Catholic school where a lot of pupils didn't come from Scottish backgrounds so I'm sure my experience would be different from somebody who grew up in a smaller town or a rural area, but my school still dragged out the girls who could sword dance every year on burns day y'know
Also now I'm wracking my brain trying to remember all the English folk songs I know and realising that it's comparatively few next to the hoard of Scottish, Irish and American folk songs I've accrued over the past 2 decades. That's definitely partially just due to being connected to the cultures those songs come from and that American folk songs are generally quite a bit younger than the scottish & Irish ones, but it's still not something I've ever really thought about
yeah absolutely. it's something england -- and probably urban england and london especially -- has really lost touch with. a lot of my friends and colleagues are irish, and when the topic of things like irish dance comes up, it's always like "oh yeah i did a bit of that as a kid, everyone did" or "yeah i learned the whistle, obviously, but i stopped when i was eight" -- but there'd be no obviously about that here (even when people learn the recorder at school, it's not often trad tunes they're learning to play!)
i don't know if this is to do with the proportion of the population that's urban vs rural in england compared to ireland or scotland (not sure where wales is at with this, they have a strong song tradition but i don't know much about the welsh equiv of trad dance music nor tbh enough about the song tradition to say anything meaningful on the topic), or if it's a "survival of trad culture to spite oppressive dominant cultures" thing so england lost it due to lack of need to defend it, or if it's predominantly a class issue (but that wouldn't wholly explain schools/the national curriculum, particularly at primary level)... i think there's a lot of factors at work
but it's something i do notice because i spend time in those irish-dominated spaces where the attitude towards trad music and dance is so different. but then those are also often irish language communities, so they're specifically irish communities that are interested in their cultural heritage, and maybe that's not representative of the whole country. still, it feels like even people who aren't interested and haven't carried that interest through to adulthood were exposed to it in childhood in a way that many english people weren't because our equivalent traditions have been relegated to this very niche, marginalised (and potentially very rural) status
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hi! may i request some mikoto + amane (platonic obvs) … anything? they are very dear to me 😭
Yes!!! Thank you so much for the request -- they really are such a good pair ;-; (The thing is, I had so many nice scenes in mind about how they parallel each other, but they wouldn't know or reveal that about each other so I kept restarting...) Anyway, here's something right after Mikoto's first trial/verdict!
Mikoto could pick up on someone’s bad mood from a mile away, though the skill was unnecessary when the other party very clearly and calmly informed him, “I’m in a bad mood.”
After refusing his offer, Amane turned back to a thick textbook she’d been taking notes on. Didn’t kids usually complain that school was already a prison? She must have wanted the full experience. He'd worked nonstop at his studies as well, but this was a new level. Amane often reminded him of his little sister, though she always took the extra step like this. His sister would have jumped at this opportunity to play a few rounds of their favorite card game.
“It’ll be fun!”
He flashed a smile, but it had no effect on her severe expression. “I know you’re just trying to comfort me about our verdicts. I refuse to be pitied.”
“Comfort and pity are two very different things. But anyway, it wasn’t either of those things.” He gave an easy shrug “To be honest, I’m just a little bored. It’s weird not having any work to do during the day.”
Mikoto couldn’t remember the last time in his life he’d had so many hours to himself. A lot of the others were fun to play games with. A few of the sportier prisoners helped him stay active. He enjoyed smoking breaks with the other men. Still, he was left to his own devices for the majority of his time. It was maddening. He’d recently requested some more art supplies, having used up the last batch, but they had yet to come in. Now with the verdict announcement, he wasn’t sure they’d ever arrive.
“That is your own problem. I already have something to do.” Her eyes lingered on the cards for the briefest of moments before returning to the book. “I told you, I’m not in the mood for it.”
Regardless of her hostility, he took a seat beside her. He leaned his arms out on the table. “We don’t have to play the same game.” The last time they'd played as a big group, several prisoners pulling the tables together to fit everyone. Amane had kept very quiet, eyes darting around at the cards as she tried to keep up with the rules. Not many of the others noticed the frustration clear in her face. Mikoto wasn’t the type to let her win out of pity, though he had begun to mutter the rules and strategies to himself a bit more as the night went on…
“Is there a game you liked to play at home?”
“No. There was no time for games in the house.”
“All work and no play… hah… I know what that’s like.” He slumped his cheek onto his arm, lazily shuffling the cards around. He felt bad for bothering the girl if she truly was upset. He thought it was the bad experience that made her reject him, he hadn’t realized there were also family issues attached. Usually he could read people well; maybe he was losing his touch. He seemed to be losing touch with a lot of things, these days.
He readied a game of solitaire.
“Mikoto?” Amane kept her face turned away. “There was… one game.”
“Yeah?” Mikoto shuffled the cards back together. He slid them over to her. “You should teach me!”
She didn’t touch them. “You probably already know it.”
“Nah, I only know a few games. I’m better with tarot cards, though those aren’t really the gaming type. Come on, what is it?”
She told him the name of the game, insisting it wouldn’t be worth playing. She kept her attention on the textbook, but her eyes weren’t reading any of it.
“Ahh, I’ve heard of that one! We start with four cards, right?” He started dealing them out.
“No, five –” she pointed to the deck, urging him to add two more.
“Right, right.” He laughed lightly. “And the goal is to get pairs, and put them in a pile, uhh, here.”
Amane shook her head. She shifted her body slightly towards him. “You must be thinking of a different game. There’s actually three piles for pairs. One here, one here, and when it’s your opponent’s turn…”
Her eyes gleamed as she explained the rules. She pointed to various cards, telling him exact moves and point values. “And to win, you need to –” Her expression shifted. “You… you already knew all this.”
“Of course not!” He put on his most convincing smile.
She deflated. “You’re not a very good liar.”
“Tch, tell that to the warden.”
His shoulders sagged along with her. If Amane could see right through him, why was the rest of Milgram still coming up with stories about what he did and didn’t do? “Well, I might already know the rules, but it’s been a long time since I’ve played. You can still give me a hand. Plus, if you really are in such a bad mood, it’ll be good to take a break from your studies. You should always take a break when things get too overwhelming, yeah?”
She gave him a withering stare.
“Eh? What’s that face for?”
“Alright, let’s play. You can go first.”
“I mean it, what was that look? Aw, come on…”
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so, this ones technically not a fix it because its still major character death but this is how i would tweak the canon story to give Izzy's death meaning and weight.
First of all, Izzy doesn't get shot by Ricky. The crew of the revenge may still be absolute rookies by Izzy's standards but even they know to take all the weapons off a hostage and unload any guns. Ricky still escapes and alerts the Navy, and our crew are running through the woods, down to the beach and Izzy is still falling back. For all his new prosthetic has helped his mobility immensely, its no good for running. Its clunky and dragging behind him and Ed and Frenchie and Jim and everyone keeps slowing down to make sure he's keeping up with them, but in doing that the navy are quickly catching up to all of them, they're being swarmed.
They break through the trees onto the beach, with more and more men coming up behind them. Izzy's struggling even more across the beach than he was in the woods, the hoof sinking in and sand shifting as he tries to run, and he stumbles. All the while Navy men continue to appear from all directions- and it hits him. That this is it. There's no way they will all make it out alive.
But he's Izzy Fucking Hands and even if he cant run anymore, he can still fight. He can fight for this crew, this family, these people who have given him so much, who have opened their arms to him when he was at his lowest, who have allowed him to feel free. He can still fight. He can buy them time.
So he turns, and draws his sword.
There was never any way he could win, of course. Even when he truly was the best swordfighter in all the Caribbean, fighting dozens of navy men at once would have been beyond him- but he can distract them, hold them off long enough the revenge sets sail. Its a glorious sight, one man against dozens, bodies falling around him as he holds them back. Its impressive to watch, and maybe, for a second, the crew allows themselves to hope. But then, he takes a cut to his sword arm, and another to his side.
And then he goes down.
But he goes down fighting.
Izzy Hands, who spent his whole life fighting dies that way too, fighting for the safety he spent his whole life searching for.
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