#does someone make signs

[britcision]

So one thing I keep thinking about with the dungeon is the immortality spell

Here thar be spoilers

Cuz there’s this general assumption being made in and out of world that that’s just a thing that all the dungeons have (because that’s how dungeon crawler games work; you can save and come back and revive party members and things)

And from how the adventuring party culture is shown, it’s easy to assume that it’s just a general thing the demon sets up every time to keep adventurers coming back

After all, Chilchuck’s our only full time cast member who’s ever seen another dungeon, and he’s died a lot in his early career; makes sense he just got revived, all the dungeons work like that

And Marcille, who’s studied dungeons in general, gives us an overview of how it happens… but. She came to this dungeon specifically to study the immortality spell. For reasons

And Mr Tance gives us this description, which blatantly states that this dungeon is different

Now, other dungeons might have different immortality spells, and the Canaries definitely talk about dying like it’s something they do on the job just, on the regular

Like when Lycion explains they’re just gonna kill Fleki and revive her because neurological damage is harder

(Although somehow Mithrun’s fellow wardens are staying dead?)

So at the very least, there is something on some other dungeons that allows people to be revived, because the Canaries are at the Island for the first time in the 6 years since the dungeon existed

And yet, during the upheaval of the dungeon, Flamela says this

And holy shit gang, this tells us a lotta things

1) like everything else, the dungeon lord gets to decide if people can be revived on a per dungeon basis

2) it can be turned off. If you die in the dungeon suddenly you die in real life too, on a dime. As in, you revive the tank before the mage, and suddenly the mage is just dead-dead. The dungeon lord decides you stay dead on Thursdays? You stay dead on Thursdays

3) You’ve just gotta accept that any time the dungeon lord changes they may or may not do a reset to factory settings and wipe the whole dungeon, which is already super dangerous and likely to kill a lotta people

4) this is a regular fucking concern for the Canaries, who explicitly go in to fuck around when the dungeon (and associated lord) are too powerful

5) Flamela’s probably seen this before, it’s been a while and she lays it out in a very matter of fact way (and she’s. Dramatic. Cranky even.)

6) if Mithrun didn’t purchase Dungeon Immortality Insurance that dead Canary buddy in his flashback is dead-dead… and we don’t know if a single other member made it out of his dungeon soooo

7) Thistle is even more extra than we thought, since generic immortality is common enough to be taken for granted, but he specifically made dying illegal, which Mr Tance says is weird and he’s been doing this long enough to be an expert advisor

8) there is at least one other way to make resurrection work within dungeons. He didn’t even have to be like this. But he’s been doing it 1000 years and the demon may have gotten the idea from him

9) there have DEFINITELY 100% been adventurers who were used to the resurrection dungeons who bulled head first into a non-resurrection dungeon and are dead

10) Kabru is so fucking lucky he ended up at the Island if he coulda stayed dead he wouldn’t have hit 21. Milsiril probably steered him here on purpose as a baby dungeon

[batcavescolony]

Katniss is such an unreliable narrator. She says "Then something unexpected happens. At least, I don't expect it because I don't think of District 12 as a place that cares about me" girl you deliver strawberries to the Mayor, you hunt and trade for the district, when you fell at Prim being chosen someone caught you, when you went to Prim people parted for you, when you volunteered EVERYONE stopped. Idk how to tell you but I think you're a pillar of the community.

[ryllen]

ruggie when he's bored, fsddsds deuceeeeeee

[pucksandpower]

… and so it continues.

The way that Williams Racing has nearly completely lost the lovable underdog reputation they have carefully cultivated over the last few seasons in record time needs to be studied.

[discountdyke]

its crazy that people think having multiple personality disorders makes you more dangerous or fucked up bc like, the more abuse and trauma you suffer as a child, the more symptoms of PDs you will check off bc your behavior becomes so disordered in order to survive. having more than one PD (having several PDs) is common among childhood abuse survivors. PD comorbidity is crazy high and, ultimately, PDs are a way of categorizing symptoms for diagnostics and treatment.

it has nothing to do with your character, your worth as a human being, and your ability to heal. you adapted to survive your abuse. you can adapt to survive life after it.

[holocene-sims]

🍂 local man pictured in cool outfit 🍂

alternate caption: slapped a silly lil bow tie on the new trench coat mesh today

[fumifooms]

My world shattering when I realize that Chilchuck is underweight

Post-canon Chilchuck stops dieting and gains weight real

Edit: I am going to SCREAM

[crookedfivefingers]

3.13 | ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴀꜱᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ʟᴏʀᴅꜱ

link to the post I accidentally wound up prattling endlessly about in the tags 💀

[bsptourist]

gm_liminal_commercial

created by RileySV

[deadchannelradio]

my fanfiction abortion morgue is gaining another jayroy victim that is not long enough to clean up for ao3. this was going to be a very long and meandering noodle about in the river that is jason's mental health and trauma and relationships of all types and healing and the asexual/aromantic spectrum (not that that's the verbage jason would use or language hes even aware of) and low sex drives all that beautiful muck and mire but i have not put a single word on it in well over a year now. so i'm letting her go. be free little fish.

-

They’re better now, anyways, better than they ever were before. Jason had a crisis a few months back, stopping himself from reaching reflexively for his phone to give Dick a call about- nothing important. And then he had realized that he had reflexively gone to call Dick about nothing important, and had gone and stared out the window for 15 minutes, trying to work himself into a different, less horrifying conclusion than the one gathering in his brain like an avalanche. Roy had come home in the middle of it, taken one look at his face and dropped his bag on the floor with a thunk.

“Holy shit,” he said. “Who died?”

“I like him,” Jason said, somewhere between incredulous and horrified. “That cunt, that motherfucker- he made me actually like him-,”

“Who?”

“Dick!” Jason had shouted. “That piece of shit, I want to spend time with him, hours out of my actual human life that I can’t get back-,”

Roy had proceeded to laugh in his face for a solid ten minutes, positively gleeful about Jason’s horrible emotional crisis. “He does that to you, man,” he said once they’d settled in, still chuckling as he cracked open a can of soda, posted up on their couch with Ethiopian takeout in his lap. “One minute you’re sitting there thinking oh my god, this guy, he’s so loud and annoying-,”

“And he never fuckin’ stops moving,” Jason groaned from his spot laying on the floor below him. “His body or his mouth. And he chews loud, he’s obnoxious on purpose, and he’s a model and dated Kory but half the time he dresses like something a goodwill dumpster threw up-,”

“Have you seen his new shoes?” Roy asked. “I dress like dogshit, man, but those things-,”

“Wally got them for him,” Jason said, and then immediately slapped his hands over his face, horrified that he knew that. Roy laughed again. “He’s constantly in your fuckin’ business! Constantly! Last time I saw him he knew the social security numbers of the baristas in the coffee shop I’d been going to-,”

“He gets enabled,” Roy muttered, shoveling injera into his mouth.

“He gets enabled!” Jason said. “Everyone enables him! I enable him! And god, his fucking- puns, man, his quips, we’re all guilty of it but this is a fight, not comedy hour, and even if it was you’d get booed off the stage-,”

“He texted me what he said to Mr. Freeze two weeks ago and I wanted to eat my phone,” Roy said. “It’s amazing no villains kill themselves after he hands their asses to them, I would be humiliated.”

“He sucks!” Jason snapped. 

“He sucks,” Roy agreed. “And then you look around one day at your life-,”

“And you go oh shit, I think this motherfucker’s alright!” Jason mimed hitting himself in the face with Roy’s abandoned house slipper. “Fuck! What’s fucking wrong with me?”

Roy laughed at him, again. “Dick Grayson Derangement Syndrome gets us all in the end,” he said. Jason curled a hand around his bare ankle, and Roy looked down to smile at him, the smallest touch making his whole face bloom open like a rose. Jason had to look away from it, wanting to say: stop. No. You know I’m not enough. You know I’m not like you. You know I can’t give you enough.

He’s been wanting to say that a lot, these days. Toss Roy off the sinking ship with a lifeboat before he has to wake up one day, years on, and realize he’s wasted years with Jason, who can’t love that loud.

He wanted to call Dick about it, which was another horrible realization. Hi big bird, I’m having boy problems. Dick would probably tell him that it means more that Jason has to try, that wanting to try for it is selfless, makes it more significant, which is the kind of thinking that lands a motherfucker in bed with Barbara Gordon, who is enough like Jason to warrant a comparison, but not enough to call her and ask what he should do. Babs loves like the Bolton Strid, and sometimes Jason isn’t sure he loves at all. Not like that.

Jason isn’t nearly as selfless as Dick is convinced he is, not deep down. Because he doesn’t want to let Roy go at all.

It’s late, well into the witching hours, and they’re laying in bed in what was formerly Roy’s bedroom but now holds them both, blinds cracked to let the streetlights through. Jason doesn’t like the dark. Roy’s threatening to buy an eyemask. Jason thinks it’s stupid to blind yourself to potential attackers. Neither of them have brought up going back to sleeping separately. Roy’s nose is pressed between Jason’s shoulder blades, breath humid through his shirt. Not asleep yet, but close. Jason’s books are proliferating on Roy’s shelves, his boxers in Roy’s laundry basket, garrotte wires coiled next to bow strings on the desk that has framed photos, past-Jason’s mouth a little white slash in the bar of orange streetlamp.

Something is clawing at the inside of Jason’s chest, scrabbling like a wild little animal. Trying to dig its way through his spine, into Roy. It hurts.

He shifts, turns over, pushes Roy over onto his back and rolls on top of him, propped up on his elbows to look down at him. Roy grunts, half-awake and confused, but takes his weight. He blinks blearily up at Jason, a crease between his eyebrows- Jason must look intense right now. “Jaybird?” he starts, quiet.

Jason knows this feeling- as all-consuming as it is- is fleeting. It’ll be gone in the morning, and he’ll forget it was ever here. He won’t be able to recall its bite until it comes back around again, like Halley’s comet. He should say something now, while he has it. While he feels it. So Roy can know it’s real. He just doesn’t know how to describe it.

“Jase,” Roy says, sounding more concerned, “Jason, what’s-,”

“Something in here,” Jason interrupts, putting a hand on his own chest, a thudding sound of muscle on muscle, “Wants to eat you.” God, he feels dumb. He’s not good at this, he sounds so much better in his head. His words come out of his mouth sour and curdled and stupid, there’s a reason he doesn’t try to talk about this shit-

Roy lights up, slow at first, then all at once, his face creasing up in his smile like old paper, following familiar folds. Jason feels his toes curl next to his calves, his feet pointing and flexing in excitement. Jason wishes he could make himself smile back, anything other than the dead-eyed concentration he knows he’s wearing right now, but the weight in his ribs is too real and too wild for that- if his teeth come out this might get literal. He wants to crack open Roy’s sternum with his bare hands, climb in like a contortionist and slam it shut behind him.

“Really?” Roy asks, small and soft and giddy. Jason nods, serious. Roy’s teeth dig into his bottom lip, smiling so wide his nose is wrinkling up, little inky lines in the artificial twilight. “Cool,” he says. 

Jason’s hands spasm in the sheets next to Roy’s head. “Roy,” he starts, “Can I-,” stops. Doesn’t know what he wants. Maybe just to look at him until the sun comes up, just to watch the light turn his freckles from a smear in the dim to pinprick-sized marigolds. Maybe to go to sleep on him like this, the thunder of his heart under Jason’s cheek. Maybe he wants everything. Maybe he wants to be the greediest son of a bitch in Gotham. 

“You can do anything,” Roy promises, and the sincerity in his voice makes the thing chewing on Jason’s lungs shake. “Anything you want. I’ll let you do everything.”

Jason drops his head against Roy’s chest with a grunt like he’s just been punched, unable to choke it back. He pushes himself up- Roy makes a quiet, sad noise, grabbing for him- and fumbles the bedside lamp on. He wants to see everything. Roy’s pupils are huge, even in the light he’s flinching from, irises that strange half-color, too dark for blue or green and too flat for hazel and too light to be brown. His cowlick’s sending his hair in every direction at the left temple, and he’s still smiling at Jason, like he can’t help it. Jason doesn’t know what to do, now that he’s here. A restaurant with an infinite menu. What he wants is strange, probably. Not how normal people want things, not what they want. Jason is off-putting, sometimes on purpose, frequently not, and he doesn’t know how this will come across. But Roy said he could have anything. Whatever he wanted. Giving up all of himself, for nothing. For free. 

Jason should take it. Roy will stop him, if he needs it. He puts his mouth on the cowlick, not a kiss, tucks his nose into Roy’s hair and breathes in deep. The nothing-smell of hair that’s not clean but not dirty. Roy’s hands are pressing into his lats, his legs spreading and crossing behind Jason’s thighs, holding him there. Jason curls both his hands around Roy’s skull, presses gently, cradling his head- all of Roy is in there, somehow, and he needs to be careful with it. His skull feels too small to hold something so important, too fragile. 

Jason drags his thumbs over his eyebrows, presses a thumbnail into the scar bisecting the left one- string snap, Roy told him, nearly took that eye out. Roy’s looking up at him still, and they’re close enough that Jason could count his eyelashes, if he wanted. He runs his fingers over Roy’s ears, feeling the cartilage, gently pinches the flesh of his earlobe, over the hole where he used to have gauges. He moves down to Roy’s neck, puts his hands around his throat, doesn’t squeeze. He feels it when Roy’s breath hitches. Roy shuts his eyes, swallows, his Adam's apple moving under Jason’s palms. 

Jason bites him where his neck meets his shoulder, hard. He thinks about being normal, trying to make it a hickey- but Roy jerks hard beneath him with a strangled noise and that thing in Jason’s chest makes him hold that position until Roy stops moving, until the bolt of his jaw aches. He lets go, spit shining around the deep purple indents in Roy’s skin. Roy lets out a shaking breath, eyes still shut.

Roy already knows he’s an inscrutable freak, Jason decides. He’s going to do everything he’s ever looked at Roy and thought about doing, everything he thought might be weird that he’s ever refrained from. Roy won’t run.

If he does, well. Jason will chase him. Roy is the one who said he was locking Jason down, said nobody in or out. He can’t get too mad if Jason takes him up on it.

He presses his nose near Roy’s armpit. The sharp, live smell of his sweat in Jason’s lungs, muted by whatever axe deodorant he uses that always makes Jason think of a cold wet morning. He rubs his mouth over Roy’s deltoid, teeth dragging. Jason pushes up and kneels with his thighs on either side of Roy’s torso, picks up an arm, runs his hands over Roy’s bicep, digs his thumbs into his elbow. Puts Roy’s thumb in his mouth, tastes skin and salt, bites the draw calluses on his fingers, gentle. Does the other arm too, to keep it even. Roy’s breathing slow and even, looking at Jason again as he shoves his mouth into Roy’s wrist until he can feel the pulse against his lower lip. Roy’s trying to caress his face with that hand, can’t quite manage more than a brush of his fingertips against Jason’s ear. 

Jason knows what he should say here. What he hasn’t been saying, because he knows it’s not the same as how Roy will say it, thinking that it will somehow be a lie because the meaning’s different. But it’s words, which are only stories. There is nothing in a story that is a lie, and no analysis that is wrong, with supporting evidence. Which Jason has, which Jason has always had. Roy at his right shoulder. Never wanting anyone else at his back. Saying to Dick: if there wasn’t Roy, there wouldn’t be anybody. The way they keep finding each other at the lowest of lows, facedown in bottles or looking down barrels of guns to see if they can spot the bullet. Standing there feeling stupid in the holes they’ve dug, pickaxes in hand, before turning and finding the other, just as deep as they are. Saying: gimme a boost and I’ll give you a hand.

Even if he doesn’t mean it in the same way, he means it. I want you, I want you, I want you. The inflection changes the meaning, but only by the barest degrees. 

“I love you,” Jason says, and he’s not lying, because he means them, even if it’s not always how he thinks he should.

[attractthecrows]

yeah yeah trick weekes says whatever about it not making sense that solas couldnt sneak off THEY FAILED TO CONSIDER that maybe he just is ass at it when he gets invested. much like. the whole fucking rest of the romance where he COMPLETELY fails to resist until the breakup.

anyway.

im personally of the opinion that he's more liable to slip up - fail at sneaking, accidentally reveal details, contradict himself - when he actually makes bonds with people. which is why after trespasser he goes and lives alone in the lighthouse for ten years but i digress.

and i think "that", the bonds tripping him up, should be reflected in his exit from the Inquisition. you're enemies or neutral, yeah he just vanishes. there's nothing to keep him there, nothing to interfere with his plans and intentions. you're (ex)lovers? i think he still would pull back purposefully and probably vanish, but there would be definite hesitation. he would have to force himself to do so, because fuck, he wants to stay. he wants to be close to you. but he also, crucially, knows that you have a dangerous sway over him, so he MUST disengage. if you're friends, it takes him some effort. because he does like you, he doesn't want to do what he has to, it's been so long since he had people who were friends to him, and he doesn't have to force himself away because he's in too deep. he knows you would worry about him. he might not be willing to give anyone the truth - but he would owe you a goodbye, at the very least. especially if you weren't the type to try to convince him to stay.

[perilegs]

i know astrology is fake but i'm not too keen on how a lot of people on this website seem to be clowning on it as a hobby a bit too hard. i swear the woman who thinks it's neat how she and her friends with the same sun sign are all similar isn't trying to say that you are who you are born as and there is nothing you can do to change it. it's a hobby. an interest. what happened to finding meaning and joy in the small things. does it affect you if someone enjoys tarot reading or crystals. does it make you upset someone has interests that they enjoy.

[boyfeelxo]

i sometimes remember that troy and abed didnt canonically kiss and im like ummmmmmm r u sure i've seen them do that I'm pretty sure

[fishareglorious]

I like Vertin's messiah parallels so I bring to you the theory: what if she was a virgin birth like Mary had with Jesus?

Vertin's mom disappears for months on end and throws the people that know her into a tizzy looking everywhere for her, then she casually rolls up to the Foundation one day with a fucking. newborn child. That looks a lot like her.

"Who's child is that?" Constantine asks.

"Mine, of course???"

"But you've never shown any interest in... who's the father, then?"

"... yeah i actually have no idea lmfao. i'm gay and you already know that, Constantine."

"..."

A week later she also peaces out and leaves little Vertin to the Foundation. No one has any idea where she's gone after that.

[yantao-enthusiast]

i’ve come to the conclusion after watching heartbreak high, that personally i will forgive and defend characters for being unhinged and insane (rowan) or even just cunts if they have redeemable qualities (probably most of the cast but particularly amerie and harper and yes spider too now) but i will NOT stand characters that are fucking annoying (sasha ,,, srsly my girl quinni did NOT deserve that!!!!)

[the-wayside]

Phaya: fight him, pin him on his stomach so he can't escape.

Phaya: (later in the series) fuck him, pin him on his stomach so he can't escape.