#I'm pretty sure this is crack

[dead-girl-tells-stories]

DP x DC Prompt: The Watchlist

Batman has a watchlist. A list that contains every individual who could become a rouge and a contingency plan for if they did.  

And while they, his children, often make fun of his paranoia and him for having it, they totally understand why he did. They lived in Gotham, for Christ's sake. Where everyone’s just a pin drop away from being the city’s next big villain, forcing the bats to scratch their heads while playing cat and mouse with a sicko for a good few weeks. And while they won’t admit it, the list has helped them a few times. 

But that won’t stop them from making fun of any of the list’s new developments. Because you see, there was a new list. And it wasn’t just a watchlist. No, no, no. It was The Watchlist.

It was a new development after he and Robin went on an out-of-state mission to investigate some town in bum fuck nowhere Illinois. And it was under some pretty tight security as well, so they were expecting something good, like mad scientists or evil mayors. Not profiles of the kids who lived in the town. And while there were a few metas and vigilantes that made the list interesting, by the end of it all they just seemed to be teenagers. 

Until they saw Damian. They hadn’t seen him since he came back from the mission with B. He looked tired. Like ‘Tim hasn’t slept in a week and is surviving on just coffee beans’ tired.

“Ah, I see you all have found it. Good. A few of them will be arriving next week as they’re a part of Gotham Academy’s student exchange program. At least three of them will be staying in the manor with us. Father will need you all to be on standby and to be ready for any possible scenario. Please, for the love of all that is good, do not encourage them in any way, shape, or form. And please do not dismiss them either. The outcome of doing that will be much worse. Is there more that I should add? Yes. Will I? No, because you won’t understand. Not until you've seen what I have.” 

The demon child sighed, then looked them dead in the eyes. “Godspeed to us all.” Then walked away.

Okay, they were scared now.

[royalarchivist]

Everyone this week: *lore, conspiracy theories, long conversations with Cucurucho, multiple attempts to summon the Binary Monster*

Spreen when lore:

[ducktracy]

Moose with implied skwerl

[meiloorunsmoothie]

me trying to do anything today:

my brain:

[nemhaine42]

03.06.24 | Bardock, dilf tbh.

[yourgamemasterthewhiterabbit]

Of my 2% capacity to be attracted to anyone, my type is like 90% women, 5% pretty men and 5% men you would swear are super fucking manly, and never questioned being straight and cis, but are now suddenly *stressed* that they can't figure out why their attraction to me [fully socially interpreted as a woman and labelled that way up until relatively recently] feels incredibly fucking gay

[i-like-anything-water]

big brain moment is 'zoe is a better chloe/chloe's replacement' means chlonette canon but writers were too cowardly I rest my case.

[diplomagics]

Listen, I’m just saying he’s probably got a pretty good scowling face. He can’t be smiling ALL the time.

[xovera-toz]

Six scenes from the everday life of this Lanternbearer Wirt.

"Withdrawal"

[...]

"Give me back my lantern."

Wirt shot the grumpy shadow a jovial smile. "Hm. I don't think I will."

"You have no use of it," the Beast insisted. Its voice had, slowly, over the days, taken on a pleading edge.

"Really?" Wirt glanced left and right: still dark forest in every direction- except skywards, where the stars painted the night a faint yellow. The lantern was his only source of light. "I haven't noticed."

The Beast snarled in frustration. It had to bear with this insufferable, sarcastic, no good sadistic- "Find one... any other. Not mine."

"Words, my dear fellow, were made to be used and used well." Wirt huffed. "In sentences, you see. And I don't think I see any spare lanterns around here. Do you?"

The Beast left without another word. Boiling inside, surely. Wirt didn't bother to hide his laughter from the empty woods.

[...]

He made sure the Beast's diet was proper and varied, just as the lunch lady used to say: Birch, oak, the occasional fir or willow. Never edelwood; those he avoided with care.

The eldritch creature was not happy.

"Give me oil." It begged.

Begged.

Wirt bet its hands were clasped in prayer under the dark shadowy layers. He felt delighted. "No can do. You need your nutrition." He wagged his index finger for good measure.

The Beast wailed.

[...]

"The forest feels... happier." Lorna told him one afternoon. They were making a small boat of sticks and moss, which they intented to place on the river and chase downstream. "Lighter. More welcoming."

Wirt nodded sagely, tried and failed to keep a serious face. "It's the diet, I tell you. As soon as the oil addiction washes out, it's going to get even better."

[...]

"I'll end you," the Beast threatened. Wirt got the distinct impression it was shaking its fist in his direction. "Suffocate you in a puddle, if I have to."

"You already kinda did." Wirt pointed out. "Not that it improved your situation, I suppose. Now, say- what do we think of wildflowers?"

The Beast fled in horror.

[...]

"It's blooming." Beatrice noted. Yes, she'd noticed- how could she not, when the cursed creature loitered around her house in its self-pity? She told her friend so.

She stabbed the needle into Wirt's torn cape again and again. It penetrated the material with ease, yet her smile seemed sharper than her tool could ever be. "The Beast is fucking blooming," she repeated.

For whatever ungodly reason, Wirt looked proud of himself.

[...]

"Make it stop!" Months ago, it would have been a demand. Now, it was a pathetic cry into Wirt's knees.

The boy stood awkwardly where the Beast had latched onto him. Not losing any of his hesitance, he gave the wooden figure a gentle pat on the head.

That just made the Beast's shoulders (Did it have shoulders? Shoulder-adjacent parts?) shake wilder in frustration.

Maybe he'd reward the lantern with some elderberry branches this time. It seemed to lighten up the creature's mood.

[t4llhum4n]

New Porter audio!

"Thank you for caring. While I don't recommend the practice when it comes to me because historically, it hasn't ended well..."

TF YOU MEAN "HISTORICALLY" HELLO??

[svtskneecaps]

my biological peer reviewer (sibling) called this theory “fun” and said i should send it, so here goes

my personal theory is the feds ((”federation”)) created the eggs because they decided the best way to enforce “you can never leave” was to give the people something they couldn’t lose, like in the post by tumblr user alexaloraetheris (no relation to the smp) where their friend who might be a deity had said,

"When you die you descend to the underworld with nothing to lose. To keep you, they give you something to lose. When you want to return, they will demand it back. That's why nobody ever leaves. The only way out is to never enter."

i’m thinkin that on egg D-Day, at the end of the countdown, the feds weren’t gonna give the eggs back. they were just gonna hide them forever, or do something else, anything else, just keep them away from their surrogate parents, because then the people would just be STUCK, because people could theoretically take their eggs and leave, but if the eggs are missing, gone without a trace, then the residents CAN’T LEAVE, because presumably the eggs are STILL THERE, SOMEWHERE, IN NEED OF HELP AND RESCUE, if only the residents could find them ON THE ISLAND. if they leave the island while the eggs are missing, they are abandoning these things that have become their children.

but then in came the brazilians. and shit went south. because see, the spenglish (spanish / english) streamers were INVITED, but the brazilians CRASHED; the feds didn’t INVITE THEM, they weren’t EXPECTING THEM, but they can’t let these guys leave either, so they PANIC, and they scramble to give the brazilians the same thing--something to lose. the new egg had a brazilian jersey, homie was TAILOR MADE for them to pack bond with. the feds didn’t have time to send out multiple eggs, it was all or nothing, so they picked something they could reasonably assume all five of them would find endearing because they don’t know shit about these guys--they had a week to observe the OG batch, but all they know about these newbies is the brazilian flag on their boat--and so they sent the little egg out to become THEIR THING, the thing they couldn’t afford to lose.

it leaves open why the eggs are cracked too, bc idk what’s going on there lol, either 1: the eggs cracked because they’re hatching and the feds picked that date bc they wanted to yoink the eggs before they got Too Powerful, or 2: the feds were the ones to crack the eggs as an excuse for why they vanished--returning the eggs untouched would open too many questions the feds don’t want them asking; this way, instead of being concerned specifically with “why were the eggs missing”, the residents presume they know the answer--the cracks.

but yea i’m just gonna add as an aside that personally i think cucurucho / osito bimbo / the white fucker is way more active again because the feds are still scrambling to keep up with the brazilians (which, again, the feds weren’t expecting), and the binary fuckwad came in to put the fear of god into the newbies--maybe so they didn’t get too focused on the morse code transmissions; iirc max was theorizing that both osito and binary were part of the federation ? and if so it does make sense that the binary entity went to fuck with cellbit immediately after cellbit was introduced to the conspiracies of the island, yknow, a warning shot. i think they want them to be focused on the eggs.

BUT THAT’S JUST A THEOr

[crowfromfoggyforest]

I'm thinking about those stitches again.

They're not only on his face, but all over his fricking body.

Maybe they're really just there to look cool.

I also like the theory that it has something to do with him being torn apart by dogs when he died.

But also i can't help but see a different meaning in it. Because, i feel you buddy. Sometimes i too feel like i'm only held together by threads, but no one notices because i usually hide it well.

[bambinification]

Oh my god, Possum was so fucking good. I love artsy films because you can just watch them and accept that the movie occupies a third space where the things you see may or may not be objective reality. Is this spider literally talking, is this person literally dead, did this ghost literally time travel? I just love how artsy films can evoke ideas through visuals without being constrained by the rules of reality. It's kind of like a dream sequence or an ambiguous "are you talking to a ghost" sequence in most Regular Fiction shows.

I mean, Possum 2018 is literally just an hour and a half of a man doing performance art about coping with childhood trauma that he never got over and abstract representations of CSA. I fucking love this shit.

[lixenn]

Fanfic update

To all the Timoteo haters: this is for you!

Hope you like it @unwrathful! (also @jjellysooI don't know if your read my stuff (no prob if you don't, also don't feel obligated to read it) but I've seen you shit on the ninth too so I'd thought you might appreciate this.)

[iturbide]

now i keep thinking about emmeryn and grima in the cartoon therapist room. emmeryn has a clipboard. she pushes up her new glasses. "how did it start?" grima is lying down on the couch. "it all started when i was born"

if i actually write emmeryn/grima fic then i am blaming this blog

I'm so glad that's what you pictured too because I'll be honest: that's exactly what was in my head as I was typing.

also please know that if you write grimmeryn fic I will scream

[ineffable-gallimaufry]

i'm so fucking pissed i went to brush my teeth but there was a cockroach. literally what the hell