#but this takes it to another level

[cozyqueerchaos]

i'm sure this is old news but im hyperfocusing so hard on the worldbuilding here that i wanna talk about it anyway-

so, if i'm reading the lore here correctly, the initial meteor hit caused the development of psychic abilities in humans, but also, caused the NEED for psychics (as opposed to, like, therapists) as the meteor's fallout increased the development of mental illness in the population to such a wild degree. (not exactly sure in what way it increased it, but that does seem to be the implication here)

which could explain why people in these games can have breakdowns over such seemingly odd things (looking at you fred), as well as the blasé approach that everyone has to mental illness and dysfunctional mental processes

(^ obligatory sasha screenshot)

that difference in their societal development is also probably why raz (and all the kids, really) can witness and say shit like this without flinching:

[suedeuxnim]

Love that Tim Drake is the kind of person who's entire life is on fire and he's like yes. A list will fix this. And then generates the most depressing list the world has ever scene while like, 90's skateboarding shredder music plays in his brain because he's soooo nailed it and this is totally gonna fix his life this time.

[pandadrake]

Okay future boy. They should hang out.

(Jefferson completely absorbing everything his Spider-man says is peak. Miles, all your dad wants is to listen to you. Water you doin'?)

[annqer]

my only goal in life is to make horror rpg maker-esque sunday art and have it in a sick edit

[mayasaura]

Harrow got so unbelievablely horny dreaming about Gideon's rolled up sleeves exposing her lean, taut muscle, a little dewy with sweat and steam but you know what.... thinking about it. Gideon does not disrobe basically ever, except in private to bathe. A tantalizing glimpse of forearm may legitimately be the most Harrow's imagination has to work with

[starwarjotta]

Day 5 - caf since my scribbles can be totally illegible, here’s a transcript Obi-Wan: Here you go, Cody Cody: Oh, thanks, sir Cody: this... it’s caf? Obi-Wan: Ah, yes! I’ve noticed my teas are not really to your tastes, so I stocked up some caf for you instead! I hope it’s okay Cody: ... oh Cody: ...thank you.

[jeeaark]

When trying to teach your friends cool new tricks accidentally turns into a business deal.

A small crack idea, but if lv 12 Mizora can be a patron, so can Greygold. Even adventure-accomplished Emps is flabbergasted at the 'how'. It's cool, nothing like a quick side-quest to fix that technical difficulty.

Anyway, I need Mizora to get fired from her job. I need Zariel to fire her lawyer. Figuratively. Literally. Both. Hunting her down is all good and reasonable but. How many other warlocks are under her belt that risk turning into lemures if she capooted? It's cool, team heart-of-gold can beat her at her own game.

[alicenpai]

buncha wanpee busts from may (boa) + 2023 (the sketches) that i never uploaded.. saw da wanpee news on twt today so ive been in the mood

[listles-s]

man laios and toshiro's/shuro's dynamic is incredibly compelling to me on multiple levels

when you look at them, you can see the cultural and personal barriers that drive almost every single aspect of their relationship, both positively and negatively. laios is incredibly outspoken and driven by his passions, which he expresses freely even in the face of annoyance and/or criticism- he's allowed to be as authentically himself as he pleases, and it's this drive that allows him and the others to survive as long as they have, especially due to the fact that these passions and interests are intertwined with his skills as a dungeon diver. toshiro, in contrast, is incredibly reserved, not only due to his eastern upbringing but also his status as nobility- a combo of cultures that both demand that one save face, to avoid conflict at any cost, even at the expense of one's own feelings and individuality. this, in turn, has made toshiro the perfect samurai, as he's politely-spoken, agreeable, and an honorable, skilled man. both are also incredibly devoted to falin on different levels, having come to accomplish the same mission of her rescue despite drifting apart from the party.

on the flipside, it's these same strengths that cause them to clash- laios is outspoken but unable to truly decipher the emotions of others, leading to a lot of false assumptions and frustration from those who interact with him. toshiro is stoic but to the point of complacency, leading to a aggressively neutral disposition that's ushered by the needs and wants of others, rather than himself. neither man truly knows where they stand with the people important to them in their lives, and hold the ones that they do know how they feel with a fierce admiration expressed in ways that aren't always traditional.

in the end, they both share a growing feeling of isolation from other people that comes to a head when they meet again in the depths of the dungeon, and they both have different ways of coping with the frustrations that arise, seeing the other as only the things they have seen face to face.

it's laios' ability to express himself emotionally without consequence that sparks jealousy in toshiro, leading to a physical fight born out of miscommunication and envy. while toshiro is a driving force in the conflict, it should be noted that the actual fight is started by laios, breaking the dam of indirect communication through force. nothing is more direct than a slap to the face, and it's only after they start hitting each other that toshiro's true feelings come to light.

however, at the end of it all, toshiro is the one who stops torturing himself, listening to laios and giving him the bell, allowing laios and his party entrance into his homeland should they need it, and ultimately giving him support in his mission to defeat the dungeon mage, albeit in his own way. despite it all, they're still good friends with a conflict that boiled over, but came out the other end with a slightly better understanding of each other. the fight was painful for both of them, but it was a necessity for their dynamic to improve, and for them to be made aware of their faults and improve as individuals as well.

but also, if you think about it, their dynamic is literally just this

[astrobolical]

Just out of reach

Can’t get this thought out of my head— Mammon’s too damn adorable. And the Kings’ relationships with one another and their antics is just aghhhhhh.

Mammon and Satan, bickering endlessly as you look on, watching the spectacle unfold— knowing full well that even if you deigned to interfere, it wouldn’t stop the Kings from continuing. So you look back and forth as they go on, wholly embarrassed with each claim that you ‘owned’ them more thoroughly. That one was closer to you than the other. That you were theirs.

Mammon’s tone was playful and amused, a smirk on his face as he stood with utter confidence, arms crossed over his broad chest, while Satan grew more agitated by the moment, smaller frame practically vibrating as his teeth gnashed in frustration. At times the duo would look to you, but they would interrupt themselves before anything fruitful could come of it. As embarrassing as it was, it was also quite amusing— you knew that even if it did come to blows, it’s just how they were. Yet Mammon suddenly paused.

Satan’s complaints died off as Mammon smiled, tilting his head to the side as he seemed to contemplate, golden gaze drifting to you. It happened faster than you could comprehend it— large hands on either side of your middle, lifting you effortlessly, as if you weighed no more than a kitten. Protests died on your tongue as you found yourself settling atop his shoulders, seated behind his head with legs on either side of his neck, one hand grasping at his remaining horn for balance. “Mammon!” You squeaked, taken by surprise and unsure of what he could possibly be thinking.

Yet when you settled you found yourself staring down at Satan, still grinding his teeth and glaring up at the other King with narrowed, rage-filled eyes. And you realized it all at once:

Mammon had essentially done the equivalent of taking a toy from a toddler and putting it out of reach— and only by using his massive, intimidating stature.

And, similar to a toddler, there appeared to be an incoming tantrum, as well.

Yet Mammon seemed unbothered, his laugh bubbling up as he watched the other’s expressions twist— and then he simply walked away with you still atop his shoulders, ignoring the protests of Satan and all of his insults and threats. He knows Satan could reach you if he wanted, but he wouldn’t risk your safety by simply pulling you off, either.

Rather than give Satan attention, he simply asks you what you would like to do that day— after all, you’re his and he is yours, and he will give you everything. Yet all you can do is sigh, accepting that you wouldn’t be getting out of this anytime soon. Though, being carted around by Mammon himself really wasn’t such a bad thing.

Perhaps not the best way to end the bickering, though— you were sure it would only escalate later.

[ubejamjar]

⚔︎ If you'll be my sword, I'll be your shield ⛉

[here-comes-the-moose]

I’m willing to bet cold hard cash money that the type of compliments Tech would give Phee and some of the things we would say to her would give some Jane Austen love interests a run for their money. Thank you for coming to my TED talk.

[redhotarsenic]

@nowfallc PICTURE!! FOR YOU!! PLEASE TAKE IT!! <3

[hermanunworthy]

drew some amsterdam live show hermie moments -guy who wasnt even at the amsterdam live show

[flwrkid14]

Buried Beneath The Laughter They Ignored

Tim is totally fine. Ridiculously fine, actually.

It didn’t matter that he woke up feeling this bubbling, manic laughter in his chest, like everything was suddenly so fucking funny. It didn’t matter that he’d woken up from another nightmare last night, crying, calling for his mama—not the mother he lost, but the mother he gained, Harley Quinn. And it didn’t matter that most days, he felt more like Joker Junior than he did Tim Drake.

It didn’t matter that no one else seemed to fucking care.

He shoved down every bit of laughter clawing up his throat, because he knew if he let even one chuckle slip, they’d all give him that look. The one they always did. Disapproval masked as concern. They didn’t like Junior. They didn’t want to believe Junior was still in there, clawing his way up every time Tim breathed.

It didn’t matter that no one ever asked him how he was doing. They didn’t want to talk about it. Because talking about it would make it real, and they preferred pretending it wasn’t. They expected him to be fine, to push it down, to carry on like nothing happened. If he tried to bring it up, they’d say he was being insensitive—insensitive to Jason's trauma. What fucking irony, he thought bitterly. As if it wasn’t insensitive to be stepping all over his by not letting him speak.

It didn’t matter that he caught them glancing at him sometimes, like they were waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for him to snap, waiting for Junior to come out again. But they never asked. No one asked what was going on in his head. No one fucking asked.

It didn’t matter that when he finally snapped, when he finally screamed at them, sick and tired of pretending, they had the nerve to act clueless. As if they didn’t know.

It didn’t matter that Dick, of all people, screamed back. Yelling like he was being unreasonable. Like he was the problem. He screamed at Tim, demanding answers, to ask what the hell he meant by Joker Junior, as if—

As if they didn’t know.

They didn’t fucking know.

This whole time, they hadn’t known.

They didn’t know Tim had been taken. They didn’t know Tim had been missing. They didn’t know Tim had been held prisoner at the hand of the Joker for months, tearing him apart, piece by piece, until Junior was the only thing left of him. They didn’t know he had screamed for them, begged for someone to find him, but no one ever did.

They didn’t know how much he had suffered. Alone. They didn’t know how much he had changed. They didn’t know that every time he woke up now, it felt like he was still Joker Junior, just wearing Tim’s skin.

And they didn’t know how much it hurt—how much it broke him—to realize that they had never known.

Tim wasn’t fucking okay. And it mattered—oh, it mattered—that they didn’t fucking know.

Because if they didn’t know, it meant no one ever bothered to look. It meant no one ever cared enough to notice.

[beeccoe]

world's most normal workplace situationship