#the scattered and the dead

[kwadlayns]

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

[faeriekit]

New In Town (dp x dc)

ALRIGHT! 👏🏽 A prompt. (Or, well. A premise.) I’m schtealing a lot of worldbuilding from @mediumsizedpidegon‘s post here so bear with me please.

The Bats, however they catch wind of Amity, catch wind of Amity Park. Of course they do. Amity Park has a very distinct presence— Or, well, a lack of a presence. It may have an abundance of documented weirdness online, from folk stories to abandoned livestreams to concerning details in expats’ online blogs.

But there is no online evidence of Amity Park that leaves Amity Park.

So. What is a family of detectives to do when confronted with the need to gather physical evidence? Road Trip, baby!🏄🏽‍♂️🚗🚞🚡

Everyone hops in the car/Batplane and makes their way to Amity Park; they make hotel reservations, ring up the only reasonably rich enough people to even touch their social circle (the Manson family, and Vlad Masters, apparently), make an itinerary for all the documented tourist stops to hit up while in town off the town website, and prepare themselves for whatever dimensional weirdness is causing a complete tech blackout on the town and an inability to be found by satellite.

They get about ten feet into Amity proper when they meet the first local.

His name is Danny. He’s nice! Affable. He looks a lot like any other Wayne sibling, actually, if a little on the younger side. He notices it’s their first time in town. Do they need any help getting around?

Best way to get information is to ingratiate with a local, so...sure, why not? They get a free tour guide, Danny gets to show off his town; they see all the sights, like the local burger joint, the school, the Manson home, the town hall, the city proper. They’re having a clothing swap in the temple parking lot, actually. You should go check it out!

For whatever reason, it’s all...Punk? Goth? There’s a couple of lolita dressed tossed in, and some crocheted things. Everyone has a trunk out their car, eyeliner, and at least two piercings in their face; everyone here seems to know each other on a personal level. Well, small towns are small towns. Whatever.

Danny isn’t deterred by their reactions. If they want, there’s the movie in park tonight! If not, they can catch dinner, though; their hotel restaurant closes at 8pm sharp. (He just...knows this off the top of his head?)

They split up. Some of the family people watch at the restaurant. Everyone is...weirdly courteous to them. A little standoffish. But not at the Wayne name, just at...them being there.

The people at the park find out they’re watching The Night of the Living Dead. This would be much more normal if the park wasn’t also clearly the cemetery, in the middle of July? Which is. Why? It’s not even for any holiday or special time of the year? It’s just...clearly a movie night in the summer? There are little kids here, playing among the gravestones while their parents set out blankets and snacks. Why is this considered a family event??

Well. At least Jason has fun.

Everyone goes to bed and reconvenes in the morning. When they wake up and roll out for the day, Danny manages to find them again, this time with two new friends, bright and chipper in the morning. There’s a farmer’s market today! Everyone’s worked really hard on this week’s harvest; don’t they want to see?

...Sure?

And the longer they’re in Amity Park, the more they begin to realize how convenient it is, that they’re ferried around so easily; that there’s immediately a local who takes a liking to them, that there’s always something else to do; how suspicious it is that no data can get in or out of Amity now that they’re in it, or how they can’t seem to get close to any of the more suspicious parts of town they want to infiltrate. The town is entirely closed to outside influences. The fashion trends are strange and foreign. They only eat things grown in the area, by people they know, and it’s all sort of...green. Everyone knows everyone. Everyone knows where to go. Who to talk to. The superstitions— make no wishes, step on no cracks, wear no large jewelry, cross no shadows of any person (living or dead, apparently), speak to no one without full view of their eyes. 

But nothing seems dangerous— not until a few of them try to investigate Axiom Labs, a subsidiary of the otherwise national Dalvco company, and are met to the face with a blaster that uses tech they’ve never seen, by a red fighter in an ultra-synthetic suit.

Overnight, the extremely polite and welcoming town becomes a hostile entity to fight their way out of.

[grechsblog]

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

[art-is-kayos]

Dream that I had

I only remember about half of the dream itself, nor have a done more than wikiskim ruina, so bare with me for this.

The general gist of it was the idea that X exists within the Library. Namely, in a subterranean floor of it that Angela first sent him to a short time before Roland first step foot in the Library.

Then the game happens and afterwards Angela decides to open the door, because otherwise she'd have that loose end for the rest of eternity.

However! Whilst the first to enter the Library was the X that successfully completed the Seed of Light, there were many more versions of him that came before, versions of him that began manifesting within the Library.

Each and every X from each and every loop or reset over time began to exsist within the Library, with some likening waking up and having to sort books for a reason they don't really get to waking up and having to manage a facility for a reason they don't really get, and promptly got to work.

Others, especially those who had loops cut short due to breakdowns or suicides or the like, did not cope so well. Dying and turning into anything from a paragraph or two to a couple of pages depending on how many days they managed to complete as manager. They would always be brought back shortly, much to their chargrin.

Many, in fact, have less than positive words to say about Angela, though day 50 X never told them about Angela's betrayl since it would make pretty much everything worse almost impressively quickly. Though, the amount each of them knew would vary, influencing their behaviour. The ones who kicked it earlier on would be more biased towards Angie whilst those that had their journeys stopped at Abram would be greif stricken, for example.

Regardless, Angela finds them all and just kind of has to deal with that. I do not have much else to say as most of my day/dreams are mostly just 'hey wouldn't that be fucked or what' with little else.

Have a good day, none of these people are. ^.^

[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.

[dear-ao3]

its been an interesting 24 hours in our apartment

[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.

[rizuuspoetry]

I wonder how much can a heart handle until it eventually disintegrates into nothingness.

- Rizu

[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.

[ninja-knox-ur-sox-off]

The way I have not written a single word for like a month it feels like I have been busier in the last two weeks than I have been in the last four years of my life and will continue to be busy for the next two weeks I got one day between a four day family trip and a sib visit gotta sew a monkey during the trip and if monkie kid drops in that time I will simply combust

[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.

[bijoumikhawal]

something. Interesting to me is when human characters going up against a more powerful being (alien, divine, transformed human, etc) they use the phrase "we're like ants/flies/mice to them", not only to convey their comparative lack of power, but also to convey the disregard the being has for humans. Because it implies that the human norm is to disregard these creatures, or even dislike them, and doesn't really reflect on what that may imply about human cultures where that sentiment is indeed common.

It reminds me about how I was talking to someone at work and mentioned how much the bugs bother me at work because they get on my papers, and I have to smack my clipboard to get them off without squishing them. He immediately said something like "why? Squish them, they're annoying". It baffled me for a second, so I just told him I don't like to have stains on my papers, since that seemed like a reason he'd understand- but really, when I accidentally squish bugs while brushing them off, I feel bad. They aren't hurting me. They don't even comprehend that they're annoying or why.

[citrine-elephant]

the china outfit in re6 for leon absolutely fucking ruins my brain. dead the moment his asscheeks start clapping in the distance