#the scattered and the dead

[kwadlayns]

Good detectives do what they need to in order to solve a case. 💀🔎✨

[sthilarions]

Asexual Charles Rowland who died a virgin (because he went to an all-boys school, of course that’s the reason - so what if most of his friends got up to things in town or on breaks). He liked looking at fit people, still does, and he liked kissing, but he just never happened to get around to doing anything else. Not for lack of wanting to, of course - of course! Just… never happened.

After his death he did try a few things but it just felt… wrong. Felt sort of like nothing and sort of, if he’s really, really honest with himself, like he remembers nausea feeling. He puts it down to ghost limitations. He can’t feel touch right, probably can’t feel anything like that right.

And then he’s with Edwin. And he can touch Edwin. He can feel Edwin. And every second his skin is against Edwin’s, it sings. So surely it must work, now?

It doesn’t.

Edwin’s hand creeps up his thigh, and it feels the same as it did on his hand (wonderful - but not special, not different, and he knows it’s supposed to feel different somehow). Maybe he just needs to go further? But as he’s moving against Edwin, and feeling sort of like nothing and sort of like everything (skin against skin still sings) and sort of like nausea, he thinks, ah. I guess it still doesn’t work, even ghost to ghost, even with someone I can feel. I guess ghosts just can’t do that.

Until he looks into Edwin’s eyes. And he realizes Edwin isn’t feeling nothing and isn’t feeling nausea. Edwin’s eyes are pupil-full, black and shining, looking up at him with feverish heat and naked pleasure.

Things Charles doesn’t feel.

Can’t feel.

And he’s run out of excuses for why.

[isuggestwishcraft]

Thinking again about the game and its end fight and do you guys think bigfrin could be classified as a black hole or as a supernova

[stevetwisp]

ZEE AND JINGLEBELL IN THE YEAR 2024

[dear-ao3]

its been an interesting 24 hours in our apartment

[starbuck]

“No, I don’t want news… There’s no news about this song.”

— John Darnielle while attempting to google the lyrics to “Store” on an audience member’s phone

[dukeofthomas]

My understanding of Jason Todd's age;

Jason dies when he's 15, 4 months before his 16th birthday. He is dead for any number of time; it doesn't count towards his age.

He's resurrected; he is in a coma for 1 year, then catatonic for another. He is then put into a Lazarus Pit. (These 2 years are practically useless, as he doesn't remember them and they contribute very little to the story. They could be condensed to 2 months and it would change basically nothing.)

He trains for about a year. You can then give him 1-12 months of prep and planning time before his debut as the Red Hood, and the story of UT(R)H, at which point he would be mentally 16-17, physically 18-19, and it would be (--) years after his birth.

[bsptourist]

mcwallmart_g6_winter

map creator unknown

[rizuuspoetry]

It feels so strange

Yet so familiar.

Like I've been here before

Yet so far away.

It's like a deja vu moment

I've seen it

I've felt it

I've loved it

But also hated it

That same feeling of being wanted

and unwanted at the same time.

As if somethings wrong with you

As if being yourself is a terrible sin.

And you just wanna disappear,

into an endless void and never look back.

I wish I could tell what was wrong with me

Or was it the world wrong this time?

- Rizu

[youngdutchishot]

Something about a fifteen year old running away from home isn't out of the ordinary. But, it truly does conjure the question as to why he had and never even came back either. He could've returned to his mother at any moment, but must've chose not to.

And another thought I've had. Was he alone for all those years until he reached his mid twenties and had met Hosea? Did he run with minor gangs or was he a "lone wolf", and kept to himself?

If he was by himself all that time then hell, that's nearly 9 years. And even if he "ran" with other people, he probably never grew an actual connection like he had with Hosea, and was still most likely extremely alone and lonely.

AND. Back to his relationship with Greta. Usually there's a reason children / teens run away from home. And, shocker, that reason's usually never the greatest. Kids will be reckless, they'll disobey sure, but to never go back? Well, now. That's a different story. Not much is exactly said of his mother, expect his quotes in The New South mission. Sure, his gravestone indicates she was a very loving mother, but with how he spoke of her I do think otherwise. Maybe I've read into his tone too much, but he feels slightly distasteful from the thought of it.

Before this "I left home at fifteen and didn't see her again." brief pause~ "She and I didn't always[pause] see eye to eye.." another pause~ "I wasn't always a very obedient child." Said certainly? Said bitterly, as if he's been told that by her before- huh what who said that? Seriously, before that there hadn't been many pauses, he spoke coherent. Wasn't hesitant.

His tone softens as he says the next "Still.. I loved her[brief pause] in my own way[pause], and she me in hers." Then he makes this joke "Somehow, even from the grave, she managed to have the last laugh." Like a "well she is my mother I can't just not love her how ungrateful would I be to ignore her love" if that makes any sense. I don't think she was the spawn of satan, but, I do not think she was the greatest mom either. And it probably left him feeling not-so-good(to put it politely ) as he grew up without much guidance, if any at all.

AND- AND, final thought lol. If he didn't properly grieve Hosea, he most definitely did not properly grieve his father's death. He was, If I had to guess, near 9-10 of age? Could be younger, I might be incorrect. But that's still quite young to lose a parent, and you could rightfully assume he didn't know how to deal with that properly( proper for himself) because he was a child. That's where resentment builds. Towards not only the southerners, but his father, too. Maybe not as vast as those whom murdered his father, but a stem of resentment for leaving him alone. Not being there.

[rainestorm1019]

This was a school project, I edited the colors a bit but here :)

[alexbutrandomthoughts]

This is a page dedicated to crying about Kim Dokja with no coherent thoughts whatsoever. If you came here for something else, i sincerely apologize, but i am incapable thinking of any other thing, expect indecipherable noises and loud wailing.

[itspileofgoodthings]

I know I’ve talked about this before cause I basically blogged my way through it but there was no catalyst for greater growth for me as a teacher than me having to read my student surveys my second year and being so caught off guard by how cruel so many of them were that I had to leave my classroom and go sob in an empty one for 15 minutes but then when I came back in (and in the following days) when I just felt so absolutely wrecked and wretched and vulnerable and scared but I HAD to keep going that it dawned on me that it literally didn’t matter what they said about me I still had the power of authority, NOT because of my personality or charisma or anything I had heretofore believed gave me the authority, but because it was literally my job and because if I said we were going to read twelfth night aloud or diagram sentences or memorize poetry that was literally what happened and I just cannot explain the bedrock of confidence that gave me because the worst had happened, all my darkest fears came true, and it didn’t matter. They still needed to learn and I had what I needed to make them learn. The job remained unchanged. Changed me forever tbh.

[moradinsforge]

Once upon a time I posted about some Dead By Daylight hooks that I was painting. Well I finally finished them!

These were a challenge to my surprise. I naively thought they would be easy and I'd finish them in a day because "they're only terrain pieces". I was so so wrong. Initially I tried to make them all different but ended up not liking the results. So instead I started over and re-painted the like models the same and added blood to one of them for a before/after situation with a survivor getting hooked by a killer. I'm pretty satisfied with the results!

I did discover that my blood effects paint was completely dried up in the bottle so I had to improvise with some dragon red and pure red paint. Looks like I have an excuse to order more paints and also work on my blood techniques in case I ever need blood but don't have effects paint again. I've been too spoiled. ��

[cryptvokeeper]

I dare not speak it in the tag because I value my energy but no one has the correct opinions about nosferatu 2024 except for me

[magistralucis]

A princeling fair to see, the pearl of minstrelsy [Oltyx/Yenekh snippet]

(I started scribbling this after seeing @eleooooooo's take on necrontyr Yenekh a few days ago, holy hell that boy is fine. And such a fine boy deserved another. IDK if I'm going to make this a full thing, but it's been a long time without any content from my end... and we could all do with something sweet, always 👍)

------

On the day Kynazh Oltyx's statue was unveiled on Sedh Yenekh recognized the sweetbitter inkling of his fate.

News seldom came so fast in fringeworlds such as theirs. The young prince had recently returned from war, and the dynast Unnas in his pride had commissioned for him this statue, a copy of which was to be instilled in every world held by Ithakas. As Yenekh made his way to the central square, it seemed that over half the planet had joined him to bear witness. Patriot champion, the whole city whispered, a fine lad and a strong warrior, a true leader to his men. And since the lot of everybody on Sedh was tied to the mercy of their high command, they were very interested to know what this one promised, and were all in all pleasantly surprised.

Yenekh had never seen anything like it. Royalty for him had always been stoic. Aloof and distant, most of the time, crushingly immediate when they deigned to gaze upon Sedh. That was how Unnas was depicted, indeed all the kings of Ithakas before him, towering over the people in their bold-faced majesty. That was how Kynazh Djoseras was depicted, the elder prince who'd drawn similar crowds some years before, his slim face uncannily stern as he stared straight ahead of him. (Unlike his father he was only ever shown alone, and only as a side profile, though his judging gaze was felt by all who saw him.)

But there was no precedent for Oltyx's statue, not among royalty, nemesors or overlords. His was a full-body sculpture, unlike his father and his brother carved in friezes. It was of realistic size too; the statue was set on a high plinth, the bodily proportions slightly magnified to account for perspective, but otherwise one could almost believe it was the real kynazh standing up there. Already that was too down to earth to be the norm, but what really shocked the denizens of Sedh was the expression - for yes, Kynazh Oltyx had an expression, a genuine marker of personality. The fair prince stood with glaive in one hand, the other held palm-up as if in hail, and he was smiling.

It was not a vivid smile, nor a triumphant smile. They would have understood that, although privately, they might've thought it uncouth to show that much emotion when a stoic stare would have done just as well. No, his was a demure smile, so subtle that it seemed a sculptor's secret grace: the prince's eyes were slightly downcast, hooded as if he were sharing sweet mysteries, and the curve of his mouth rose so delicately one might think it a trick of the light. His raised arm seemed almost inviting, as if to swear oaths to a lover, or to clasp his admirers in an embrace.

It was a sight to take Yenekh's breath away. Indeed, it was the closest thing to benevolence any of them had ever seen from the heart of Antikef. It was so unusual, so unlike royalty, that as Yenekh stood there starstruck his elders began debating whether this was a serious depiction of the prince or not.

Though, well, surely it was. Like Yenekh and the other warriors of his ilk Kynazh Oltyx had come of age during wartime. This was the first time his image had been presented all over the Ithakan kemmeht, the royal court had to get it right. The dominant consensus was that the sculpture would not have been approved, neither by his older brother nor his father, if it hadn't reflected something about the prince's reality - a point which Yenekh's father considered paramount, and took great care to impress upon his son.

"After all, you are soon to present yourself at the royal court," he said, resting a warm hand on Yenekh's shoulder. "The war is over - the body politic, within and out of Antikef, must resume its role - you are the next branch of Sedh's nobility, and among our finest, and it won't be long before the future of this world rests on your shoulders. Go, see if you might seek the younger prince's favour. I daresay we'd flourish somewhat if he were to look kindly upon Sedh, even if it were he alone who did so."

Back then nothing was more important to Yenekh than the will of his father. "I will." He said, and prepared to present his home in the best light, though he didn't seriously think anything would come of it at the time. Yenekh's father had once heard the same words from his father. His father's father, too, and that father's brother all the way up the House of Aetis, and little had changed for their pains.

It was not for lack of faith in Sedh. Yenekh loved Sedh, thought the world of it even, but they were just too far away from the crownworld to merit royal attention. That was not for lack of faith in Antikef, either, the distance was not negotiable. From the royal court's perspective Sedh was not even in the provinces, they were beyond the provinces, where the kemmeht was stretched so thin that one might peer through it like a veil. The lords of Sedh were not weak - they'd defended the border for uncountable generations, they had strength, they had pride - but there were a million things they could beg of royalty, while royalty required nothing from Sedh other than its continued obedience. If its lords did not plead for grace they wouldn't see any at all.

How could Yenekh alone possibly change this state of affairs?

Yes, he supposed the young prince was wondrous fair. (Yenekh began to dream of him often from the day he laid eyes on the statue.) Perhaps he might even be kind. That wasn't a good reason to tie an entire world's hopes on one person, not that it'd stopped them doing it to Yenekh. Such is the kinship of youth, the warrior thought wryly, and he kept all this in mind until his first official engagement came around.

He was among innumerable youths from the kemmeht. All were sturdy and bright-eyed. All had favours to seek. Much to Yenekh's surprise, those were the only correct predictions he'd made about his lot. It was his first time encountering the royal court, but it wasn't at Antikef; no, it was with the Nihilakh, at Gheden's famous Lantern Festival to hail the new year. He did not blend in as thoroughly as he'd expected, though it wasn't in a bad way; for the first time in his life Yenekh was made to understand he was beautiful, though no one at Sedh had ever remarked on it. (Compared to the lords of the inner worlds he'd thought he was so plain, but his white-and-blue robes accentuated his form gracefully, his silver belt and collar shining bright.) And although he could never have hoped for a prince to look directly upon him, that was exactly what Kynazh Oltyx did on the day they met, the central square teeming with the lords of a hundred dynasties.

Yenekh knew the prince at once, at the faintest snatch of his rich warm voice. He moved carefully past the youths of Ithakas - the kynazh was turning his head, just as Yenekh reached the front of the group - as Oltyx looked upon the darkest and faintest star of his high kingdom, his brown eyes widened, and he smiled that same gentle smile Yenekh had admired upon the plinth.

"Gosh." He said. "You're pretty."

In that instant Yenekh was consumed by love's first flame, and he yielded to it as he’d never yielded before.