#floaty does dc

[floatyhands]

Gilda in therapy

#I’m so sorry I came up with the joke before I fell asleep last night #gilda dent #gilda gold #headcanon doodles #my art #doings of the dents #floaty does dc

[stealingyourbones]

Another funky little writing idea for dp x dc:

The GIW successfully capture Danny Phantom. Danny goes through testing, torture, and dissection for an indeterminate amount of time.

Danny then gets shoved awake and brought to this very intense woman who introduces herself as Amanda Waller. She gives him the option to either stay here and continue with the GIW experiments or join her special elite task force. Danny, not wanting to deal with more of what the GIW had in store, agrees to join Wallers task force.

And that’s how Danny gets recruited into Task Force X, otherwise known as the Suicide Squad. He gets a micro bomb implanted into his neck that he can’t get rid of with his ghost powers and fights alongside whatever era of Suicide Squad that you’d prefer.

He meets the various villains/anti heroes and there’s an assortment of people I absolutely think he’d mesh with well:

Harley Quinn

The two bonding over their trauma of being stuck in an unhealthy relationship. Harley with the Joker and Danny with Vlad. Harley would help Danny and talk through his trauma. She’s a very smart woman and would talk about things from maiming to the tidbits of psychology knowledge Danny learned from Jazz. They would just bounce each other’s chaotic energy off eachother and amplify it. This pair is a force to be reckoned with.

Deadshot:

Let me say that the old version of deadshot is creepy and gross and I Do Not Fuck With That Version Of This Man. He’s still :/ but what can ya do. Deadshot would be very apprehensive of this strange floaty ghost kid. He would see Danny as a new pupil to train and also manipulate. Danny sees what Deadshot is trying to do and is having none of it. Deadshot is incredibly impressed by Danny’s marksmanship and trains Danny in hand to hand combat, intimidation/interrogation, how to use an extreme variety of weaponry, and a bit of mechanical engineering to help Danny create ghost weapons. He is secretly proud of this kid and his growth in training. He always has in the back of his mind that this kid is a very useful pawn to have and gaining his trust means that he has a godlike entity in his back pocket to assist him in any situation.

Match

Match is an imperfect clone of Superboy. He’s Superboys version of Bizarro. Most writing of Bizarros just make them basically act like a shitty depiction of having mental disorders which sucks but other times they’re just not very smart and have some issues with speaking (along with their reverse speak thing where they mean the opposite of what they say.) Danny would instantly notice from previous experience that Match is an unstable clone and empathize with him. Match really is confused and thinks that he is Superboy and wants to do good and Danny would encourage that will to do what’s right and help boost Match’s confidence.

Peacemaker

I don’t think peacemaker would like Danny at all really. Mostly because of their opposing personal views, but Peacemaker would definitely respect Danny.

Those are all I can think of at the moment but feel free to reply with others.

The idea of Danny working on this strike force, taking out various villains and people that oppose the government and struggling to do so because if he doesn’t do it he’ll die, but if he does so he breaks his moral code.

So yeah Danny just slowly succumbing to the views of Amanda Waller and becoming a very very lethal fighter and gaining a bunch of knowledge from the other Squad members on how to fight is just such a cool idea to me. Thanks for coming to my mini rant.

#Danny phantom #dp x dc #tw body horror #tw dissection #dc comics #Tw torture #Amanda Waller is one terrible woman and should be feared #she is extremely powerful and has LOTS of connections #Danny slowly loosing his moral code is such a fascinating concept to me #Danny and Harley would be best buds in the most twisted way #prompt #writing prompt

[vzyee]

gonna collect my thoughts on on earth we're briefly gorgeous since i finally read it after four years of it being the biggest thing in every sphere. preface is that i know this was like landmark literature & i can acknowledge that while also you know griping.

so first of all i thought this was straight up memoir when i read it due to assuming it was an extension of his more autobiographical poetry.

i made a joke abt how it reminded me of barry s3 but its like, the comparison is nearly there. turning from just depthless ancient sadness to like, extremely contemporaneous colloquial language and stylings. which isn't to say that the depictions of generational trauma in gorgeous (ancient sadness) are necessarily more remote/removed of course & in a lot of ways the early aughts details are alienating when you'd expect them to be grounding.

i also noticed how neatly this fits into the like goldfinch genre which im always going on about. obviously it borrows quite a bit thematically from the big gay dark academia epics (art trauma and memory) although crucially the academia element is sort of plucked out of the story. he goes to college this seems like it would have major implications in the narrative of americanness and yet it's barely factored in. and further barbara kingsolver totally did the whole first day on the tobacco farm thing in demon copperhead down to the gloves being too big. i'm calling dc a big etc gay novel even though it barely is because it also to me derives from that same tradition. However. and the point is. it disrupts that genre primarily by not being an epic. Like the prose is actually very efficient. a lot of the scenes are precisely what they are. to my taste i actually like a very long unwinding of every mood and development from one stage of life & being to the next & i do think. gorgeous accomplishes a lot of that even if nonlinearly. but for instance in the "sometimes being offered tenderness" scene, that felt to me like a moment that could have been more thoroughly arrived at as something that fundamentally changed the terms of little dog & trevor's relationship and their understanding of their place in their own & each other's lives. but instead it is so distilled. which is interesting. in a lot of other ways obviously it doesnt seem like theres a ton of disruption as with the dramatization of violence, drugs, intense angst etc and the very knowing floaty tone of the narration. which i did not appreciate as much.

last big point had to do with like, maturity of voice. to me this still seemed absolutely like . well a debut novel. an early work. i've read some of night sky with exit wounds and i have some familiarity otherwise with vuong but i don't think i've read anything more recent than gorgeous. i really like ocean vuong in interviews and i think he's immensely quotable which is a gift some writers have whether due to insight & reflection or just composure both of which are very impressive. vuong i think has both. however i think the impression i got over and over in gorgeous was that his voice either hasn't fully developed or he's still coming to terms with how to use it in practice. i think about this a lot, like what the metric is for a "mature" and "developed" individual voice vision style whatever in writing. basically it's when your conviction matches the level of your ambition & i did not see true conviction here. which is not a bad thing in and of itself in a novel of fragmentation disorientation and resistance. but amid the confusion and the immense efforts of the narrator to preserve recollect and reassemble there are still these grand poetic gestures of generalization summary and aphorism. once again "sometimes being offered tenderness feels like the very proof that we've been ruined" (one of the most successful attempts at generalization i think).

also he says somewhere in an interview that he's working against legibility which i'm not entirely sure he does. he mentions genre bending and the inclusion of for instance butterfly and opioid trivia, he mentions nonlinearity. all of this though is honestly more or less digestible, and the novel is actually fairly rigidly structured. Especially with the amount of im gonna call them tropes maybe cliches. that dictate the general plot progression. quite legible. & i feel even stronger abt that now that i realize those actually were conscious authorial placements and not like, real life experiences that just happened to follow a highly exaggerated narrative arc. which genuinely confused me when i was reading i thought he had to be at least embellishing. and he was

[batarangsoundsdumb]

no spoiler tim drake urban legends #6 simp board

#i'm actually the best in the world at white out poetry you guys #ngl that top right image gives me aang from atla vibes with that floaty rocks thing he does #literally urban legends is the best thing to happen to the world ever #i dont want to hear a word out of you sceptics #KISS KISS HIM #tim drake #red robin #batman: urban legends #robin? #is he robin rn? #idk #robin #batman #dc #dcu #dc comics

[your-turn-to-role]

Here's all that intricate and heartbreaking meta about Essek handing his lightning bolt spell to Veth but… Wouldn't it be fun to consider… how it could just be so Veth would be the one affected by a random wild magic surge and not he? Since she would be considered the caster of the spell, functionally :P So no potential hair loss for our (slightly vain) floaty hotboi!

that one didn't actually get a roll, did it? i mean you bring up an interesting point, and i think matt probably just forgot about the wild magic roll and who should get it

but you could make an argument for it being either, neither, or both, honestly, it depends on how aeor actually interacts with magic and what specifically triggers it?

because like...

okay, so essek's class feature states when you cast a spell, you can choose to condense it and hand it to someone else

when you cast it, as in you still need to spend the slot and casting time, you've just frozen the spell and put it away for later

essek is still expending and using a fourth level spell to do that, that's magic he is creating

so if it interacts with it when the spell first appears, then the wild magic would target essek

however, by doing that, you essentially make a single use magic item for a fourth level lightning bolt

and like yes, that feature does state that the person holding the item is considered the caster in every regard except attack bonus and spell dc (those would come from essek), but the same goes for every magic item

is using a magic item enough to trigger it and target the caster? jester used the wand of smiles and nothing, fjord's used the star razor a bunch, which, granted, maybe those are both too weak to trigger it, but caleb also cast globe of invulnerability with allura's staff and it didn't trigger

and maybe that was a one off and matt forgot, maybe magic items genuinely do circumvent it, maybe the wild magic gets drawn to the magic in the air after the casting of the spell, and targets whatever produced it, which in this case would be the item, not the character, maybe that's enough for it to not need a roll

so it could trigger with essek casting and trigger with veth releasing the spell, in which case they'd both get hit

it could trigger with either or

or it's possible using this feature actually circumvents the wild magic, because there's no one for it to latch onto

(alas, the feature can only be used once per long rest 😂)

#cr2 #cr spoilers #c2e135 #veth brenatto #essek thelyss #ask

[chaos-le-mieux]

Error Chara!!! I suppose I should go over who and/or what they are = ) The only problem is most of that is unknown :3 I almost restarted this cause I didn't like the pose, cause I didn't think it looked "actiony" enough. But the more I thought about it, the more I kinda liked it. Calm, Cautious, Collected, Confident! 4C's Like a Diamond! (mind you, there's still a bunch of things I wanna fix, but we wont worry about that, and in a couple days you’ll all see an alternative pose) Uhg, The background is such a busy mess, sorta like this version of Chara Now where to start? I guess with their back story. Back Story: Unknown. How unknown? well, they don't even know what type of universe they originated from, let alone how they became the way they are. So when asked about their past, they'll just make something up, kinda like DC's Joker, but less malicious. Appearance: Only things consistent is their Dark Blue skin, Cyan hair, Red cheeks, Black floaty "Error" messages that hover around them.. and their eyes? They change their clothing regularly, hence why there's no more rips and tears. Various types of shirts are usually Bright Red with a Thick Magenta Stripe through the Torso. Shorts, Pants, etc, are typically Orange. Socks are usually Magenta. And Shoes are Black and Red with Orange laces. Travelling through the void for extended periods of time (days? weeks? months? years!??) will cause wear and tear. So a Fresh look is a sign that they have somewhere to chill after a days work. A lack of confidence or nervousness will cause them to destabilize which is visually indicated by coloured bars or squares coming off their body. Stats: ??? Yes?.. Special Abilities: Void Rift: Opens a rift to pass though dimensional intersections. ie; Entering The Void, the Anti-Void, Void Pockets and Sub Dimensions. Entering AU's have special conditions and self-imposed rules that'll be explained later. Lines of Code, or "Strings": Similar to Errors Sans, but Orange. They don't understand code as well as Sans does, so they mostly use the strings for play, and have no idea of the extent of their power. Save Point: Places a Marker that acts like a beacon so they know how to find their way back. Think of it as saving a set of coordinates, so they don't get lost. Knife Summon: Chara wouldn't be complete without knives~ Though this Chara has taken the liberty of naming the knives they've... appropriated - The Determined Real Knife of Violence - The Brave Killer Knife of Dread - The Justified Epic Knife of Torment - The Kind Negative Knife of Malice - The Patient Horror Knife of Angst - The Integral Shift Knife of Deception - The Persevered X Knife of Despair And if any of you all see an eighth knife, that's just an Error, it's not really there > 3> Error Chara's Goal!? As stated in "Errors in Judgment" they want to undo the damage that the anomalies have done. But what does that mean? Well for this Chara, it's to re-unite the Sans's and Chara's who have been pitted against each other, while at the same time Erasing any time lines that are deemed in their opinion "less than desirable". Why do they want to do this? Well, they feel many of the issues caused in most AU's and the Multiverse is from Creators and Players who have pitted Chara's and Sans's against each other. And that the greatest weapon to combat these Anomalies is to have Chara and Sans team up. Side Notes: The soul trait commonly identified as "hate" is going to be referred to as Violence, as hate is an emotion that everyone has, and I feel like it's too simplistic of a term to describe a soul. Plus it's literally called "Level of Violence". Also, Fear is synonymous with dread. Coincidently Metroid Dread got announced before I could post my 7 Negative Soul Traits (that are a reflection of the 7 Positive Soul Traits). More on that later. Side Side Note: The names of each knife are all oxymoron's = ) I think that's enough information for now. I could be writing for hours otherwise. This has already been a huge time sink = - = Enjoy~

#Error #Chara #Undertale

[helly-watermelonsmellinfellon]

So I bought Flip Flop in the Shrine and decided to use it with Unbreakable, Boil Over, and Sprint Burst. I then put on the Offering for the saloon so I can use the special room with no doors. It’s a Leatherface. I lead him there and instead of hitting me over the window, he comes in because he has Bamboozle and blocks the window entirely. Well, he decided to break every single wall in the upstairs before picking me up, which means my wiggle bar will be half-filled because of my recovery amount. Boil Over had him bumping into everything as he tried to get to a Hook. He’s halfway there when I wiggle off and use Sprint Burst to flee! I then run him around for 2 mins while my team does fuck all. In the end, only I Escaped and it’s because I blended into a bush while he was searching for me, and then booked it the opposite direction where I found the Hatch!

So Freddy on the updated Yamaoka maps is hell. You can’t see anything but the white blob of the clocks in the distance. It’s hard to wake up as well. I somehow managed to Escape. He closed the Hatch so I waited by a door, let him come by to check it, and then touched it when he left. I only did so about 2/10 of the way, before the light comes on so it seems like it hasn’t been touched and he’ll rush back to the other door in a panic. I continue to work. I see him coming. The progression meter is rising quickly. Almost there! I let go just as he reaches me so he can’t yank me off, take the hit, and the tap it one final time and use Sprint Burst to run out the door!

Trying to play with more bright colors on. I think I rely on immersion a bit too much. Like how I weened myself off of Spine Chill. Now I never used it because I don’t have to.

^^^So Meg throws down a pallet on Ghost Face and he stops moving. And not just the, he’s frustrated and about to DC, no, his floaty things on the back of his coat froze in place too. IDK what happened. I finished the last Gen and we left quickly since he wasn’t moving at all. He was just stuck I guess. Center screen, to the right of the tree in the middle.

There is now an issue where Killers can’t Hook people. I witnessed this from the POV of someone seeing someone get Hooked and the Killer is literally trying to find an angle to do it from. From the POV of Doctor, Spirit, and Wraith where it gave me the prompt to Hook but wouldn’t complete the action. And from the POV of someone about to be Hooked in which Legion being unable to get the angle allowed me to wiggle out.

So it’s Leatherface and I’m the Obsession. I’m a blonde Meg in bright pink and white clothing on Shelter Woods. I managed to lose him in almost every Chase we had. And it was just me and this other Meg left and he finally gets me downed and Hooks me, then uses Barbecue & Chilli to find her. She gets downed. I remember I put on a Luck Offering and make an attempt to Kobe and it worked! Right as he was picking her up, I fled into a Locker, got Healed up when he closed the Hatch, and because the doors were on opposite sides of the map, it was easy to partially prep the one door and wait for him to leave before finishing it and getting out.

Dude Disconnected before I even got to fully load into the match! I am pissed because the game took my fucking Med-Kit and add-ons! And the end screen lobby glitched with me loading into the match so this happened!

Blights are really fun to run around. Especially in small spaces where they refuse to just use their basic attack.

So Tombstone Meyers didn’t find me all match, even though I was the Obsession and he can see people from across the map when stalking. Dude was so salty that I was going to Escape with my Key, when everyone else died, that he rage-quit and said that I, ‘did nothing so it’s not a W’. Like, bruh, I saved every other person and Healed them each time without you seeing me once. I also had a hand in the 4 Gens that got finished. I broke all the Totems, including the 2 Hexes. I sabotaged 3 Hooks because I wanted extra points when I found a Toolbox. I evaded him at every turn and stood over the Hatch with my Key until he found me. He rage-quit before I could use it. I came out with almost 30K pts even. tbh I think he just didn’t know how to play Tombstone Meyers cuz from what I’ve seen, it’s not about downing people, it’s all about stalking them for as long as possible, and then piping them. He never actually got to give anyone the pipe. And he was Rank 3.

#dbd #dead by daylight

[forlornmelody]

Three Robins Rose Has Kissed And The One Who Kissed Back

Rating: Explicit (there’s smut, and lots of swearing, and some implied drug use.)

Fandom(s): DC Comics

Ship: JayRose (Jason Todd/Rose Wilson)

AO3 Link: Here

Summary: Rose Wilson has a type and it is former protégés of Batman.

Note:  For the sake of this story, I'm assuming both the events of the Crisis continuity, and the New 52, happened. (But we're just gonna pretend DC didn't nerf Rose for daddy-fodder, kay? Kay.)

-*-*-

“Rose.” Nightwing stares down at her, narrowing his eyes, but his grin betrays him. “Something tells me you’re doing this on purpose.”

“What makes you say that?” The mat presses up against Rose’s back.

“That’s the third time today I’ve swept you off your feet.” Dick’s got her in a full nelson, one of his escrima sticks pointed at her throat. He’s not actually going to bust her, though. Nightwing, the former Boy Wonder, is too good for that sort of thing. It frustrates her to no end. 

“Maybe I need more practice.” Rose can’t help the playful lilt creeping into her voice. The blue and black look good on him--better because they hug his body in all the right places. All she has to do is tilt her hips--there. One flip and Rose leans over him, pressing both his wrists against the mat. 

“You? You’re better than this.” Somehow it sounds like Dick is commenting on more than her training room flirting tactics, and the smile slips from her face. Like he hasn’t hit on half his opponents already. Hypocrite. She’ll show him. 

Time slows as Rose closes in, so close she can hear Dick’s heart speeding up. Just as her lips are about to brush against his--Dick turns his head and her kiss lands on his cheek. “Oh come on.” Just like that--Dick’s on his feet, launching Rose off him.

“Focus, Rose.” 

Their sparring session continues, and Dick never once brings up the kiss. He drives her crazy, in more ways than one, but she seems to have him off-balance for now. Rose presses her advantage, and she pins Dick face-first against the Robin costume on display. Freezing, Dick sucks in a breath. Before Rose can ask what’s wrong, he shoves his elbow into her sternum, pushing her away. 

“Dick?” 

“Not now.” He doesn’t even look at her as he slams the door behind him. 

What’s his hang-up with his old costume, anyway? 

-----

Rose’s only on this team because of Dick, because even though he doesn’t lead the Titans anymore, what he says goes. Even when the Titans hate his decision. Even when they hate their newest member with a passion. Even though she tried to kill them before. 

But Rose knows more than just martial arts. And she knows just how to get under Tim’s skin. Or on top of it, rather. 

Click. Tim’s got her pressed face-first against the mattress and her hands cuffed behind her back. Somehow Rose suspects this isn’t a bondage thing. Too bad. She really liked the feel of Tim’s lips against hers. 

“Hot damn.” Eddie stares at them through the open door and Rose can literally see steam coming out of his ears. That might be normal for him. Rose hasn’t been paying attention, at least not before now. 

“It’s not what it looks like,” Tim says quickly.

“Yes it is,” Rose says even quicker. Sometimes Rose’s visions don’t help much. People’s choices determine the future and people can be oh so finicky. It drives her nuts. Fights are one thing--people either want to kill her or they don’t--the rest they have ingrained through practice or the lack thereof. Knowing whether someone wanted to get in her pants--well. Apparently, she hasn’t quite figured that one out. 

Tim pulls her cuffs off, extracting himself from the bed and putting some distance between them. “Put some clothes on.” Damn. She’s 0-2.

But with the way Eddie’s eyes linger on her as she slides her armor on? Maybe it’s not a total loss. 

----

First Stephanie giggles, and Rose can hear it echo across Gotham’s rooftops. “What are you doing?” Then her smile slips, and the silence is deafening. 

Rose leans in closer, both their asses teetering on the edge. “You and Tim are on a break, right?” Her lips part, and she can smell the lavender in Spoiler’s shampoo. Their breaths intermingle and she’s so close to--

“Rose, I’m straight.”

“Seriously??”

----

Honestly, Rose had given up trying at this point. Jason Todd--Gotham’s best, or perhaps worst bad boy--should have been an easy target. Except he wasn’t Rose’s target, not this time. Her employer wanted Roy Harper out of the picture--Jason was just in her way. And he rarely left his best friend out of his sight. And Rose thought Koriand’r would’ve been more of a problem. And with her out of town--possibly out of planet--this should have been a piece of cake. Just get off The Red Hood’s radar by getting into his pants. How hard could it be?

Way harder than Rose ever imagined. 

But the price on Roy’s head? Too high to pass up. With that kind of money, Rose would be set for life. No more relying on her dear dad to help with bills every so often. Or his car. Or his safehouses. She could even get her brother the care and protection money to keep him away from all those bent government agencies and mad scientists who wanted to dissect his brain, or worse, use him for their own ends. 

So, Rose stayed. Even after Jason turned her down, more than once. 

The first time, it’s on a mission in Hong Kong, where Rose just so happens to be going after the same target. The Jade Dragon--Kingpin and Slum Lord who owned half the Indian Ocean. Roy waits for them on the roof with their getaway ride, and Rose joins Jason in the elevator. Halfway up it just so happens to stall. She really outdoes herself. 

Jason’s blue eyes stare not at her, but at the emergency hatch. The back-up lights cast a soft glow on his skin as Rose closes in. “It’s probably a power failure. No way they don’t have backup generators in this place.”

“Yeah. But they don’t run the elevator when the power goes out--in case of a fire.”

Jason swears under his breath, eyeballing the distance from his feet to the ceiling. “So what. We’ve got about ten, maybe twenty minutes before they fix it?”

“Something like that.” Rose touches his shoulder. “Relax. Where’s your slumlord going to go? The roof?” The stairs don’t go to his penthouse. She checked. Something about a security risk. Rich wackos like him like to be airlifted out in case of emergency. 

Pressing his lips together, Jason lets out the breath he’s being holding for two minutes. “You’re right.” He slumps against the back of the elevator, staring at buttons like they’ve personally wronged him. “I just hate waiting.”

Rose slouches next to him, not quite touching him, but close enough to where they can feel each other’s heat. “I know how we can pass the time.”

Jason blinks, finally giving Rose more than a passing glance. “...You’re kidding, right?” He laughs softly, and it’s the softest she’s ever seen his expression. “We just met.”

The batkid who got hired for jacking the Batmobile’s hubcaps, who had a reputation of going just a little too far when beating up bad guys, who actually killed more than one villain who got under his skin. Jason Todd--the guy on ten international watch lists--a prude. Who knew? 

----

Except Jason isn’t really a prude, now is he? Nah. Rose’s caught him stealing glances at Kori more than once--always looking the other way when Kori’s boytoy Roy stands nearby. Hell, the way Jason and Roy fool around sometimes—Rose’s not completely convinced of the joke. She’s even found some saucy text messages in his phone, and more than one picture of a gorgeous flight attendant. An old flame--Rose guesses. 

But he doesn’t spare her a second glance. 

And it’s not like Rose doesn’t know what she’s doing. Infiltration isn’t her favorite--she’d much rather blow up The Starfire with a heavy payload. Simple. Quick. A big, beautiful explosion to light some fire in her eyes. But the fucking employer wants Roy’s head as proof. Says he and his friends tend to walk away from this sort of thing. Her employer seemingly has all the time and money in the world--so long as Rose completes the job. She’s starting to wonder what Roy did to piss him off. But she knows how to get under a guy’s skin--the right clothes, the right words, simple gestures to lure him in. 

The second time it’s after the mission, when they’re celebrating with drinks--with sparkling cider instead of alcohol (what is it with these guys?) Rose dons a bikini with his favorite colors--red and black and lounges on the deck chair next to Jason. Roy and Kori have the right idea--already having forgotten their bubbly beverages--drinking instead from each other’s lips. And Jason’s staring up at the stars. 

 Rose kind of envies him in that moment, floating on the water with nothing but wonder on his face. She swan dives at the opposite end, swimming her way toward him. The splash does stir his floaty, and Jason turns over to glance her way. Maybe, just maybe she has a chance. 

“Nice moves out there today. You dad teach you that?”

Rose shrugs. “My mom taught me a few things, too.” Mostly how to draw in close without her mark noticing. But nothing seems to slip Jason’s attention. 

Jason eyes her as her arms brace themselves on his thigh. “You really want me, don’t you.”

“Can’t fault a girl for trying.” And damn her, he’s gorgeous, and cut like a rock. Was it all his years in the batcave or his time with the All-Caste? 

But that’s not want hooks Rose the most. “Sorry to disappoint you, but I’m not like that.” It’s the softness in his eyes. She’s only seen it a couple of times in the past few days, but each time he looks at his friends like that Rose swears she’s being let in on a big secret. 

“Do not tell me you’re gay.”

Jason laughs, laughs, and Rose immediately knows she’s in too deep. “Gay? Straight? Labels. Who needs ‘em?” He stretches out on the pool mattress, and he lets the leg Rose’s leaning on slip into the water. “They’re just more rules.” 

“Then why…?” Rose doesn’t say it. Doesn’t voice the rejection sinking into her brain. Admitting it out loud would mean admitting failure, and Rose Wilson does not fail. 

Shrugging, Jason murmurs. “Don’t know you well enough, yet.”

----

Rose should’ve given up at this point. Gone for the easier kill, damn the consequences. Just snapped Roy’s neck while Kori was in the shower. And why hasn’t she? She hasn’t the foggiest idea. But if she’s honest with herself--Rose knows exactly why. 

Roy is Jason’s best friend. 

Jason would never forgive her if he found out. 

And why does it matter if Jason hates her? 

Damnit, Rose. 

This was exactly the kind of fucked up shit her dad warned her about. Don’t stick around too long. Don’t make friends. Don’t let your mark get under your skin. And what did Rose do? Exactly that.

Her employer doesn’t care if she seduces Jason Todd or not, so why does Rose? 

Damn it all to fucking hell. 

Rose beats the hell out of the punching bag, shaking the chain it hangs from with every strike. Each punch she lands inspires a new idea. Slip some arsenic in his drink. Stab him from behind. Throw him off the roof of the ship. Press a pillow into his face. Snap his neck. Snap his fucking--

“Rose?”

Her fist freezes midair, and she pants, not bothering to turn around. “Yeah?”

“It’s Roy. Something’s happened.”

Fuck. “Is he dead?”

Jason’s eyes tighten as he shakes his head. “We need to find him. Fast.”

Shit. Shit. Shit. 

----

Rose should be happy. Roy did all her hard work for her. Someone found him while he was on a bender, tied him up, and has been carving up his skin as if the answers themselves will bleed right out. 

Amateurs. A professional knows only to interrogate a sober target. Establish a baseline of what the hostage knows and then break them down with intoxication if need be. Break them slowly, only as much as needed. Dead hostages can’t answer questions. 

“Arsenal?” Jason whispers, tilting up Roy’s chin. He doesn’t respond, and his head flops down, heavy against his chest. 

Kory shoots the nearest window, a low growl escaping from her throat as glass shards rain down the side of the building. Rose jumps a little, despite herself. She doesn’t want to imagine being on the receiving end of one of those star bolts. 

“C’mon, Roy. Answer me.” Rose never thought she’d hear Jason beg, not like that. She can’t stand it. 

Walking over, Rose check’s Roy’s pulse and sighs in relief. It’s sluggish, almost too faint to feel. Rose could put him out of his misery right here and now and his friends would have no idea who killed him. Just slip her knife in to hit his artery and bam. Problem solved. Her fingers slip toward the knife on her belt, but Jason’s pleading gaze stops her cold. 

“Is he…?” Oh fuck. Jason has tears welling in his eyes. 

“Alive.” Rose can just see the barrel of the gun her employer will use to tie up loose ends. “Not for long, though.”

Between the three of them, Jason, Rose, and Kory carry Roy back to the ship where they can apply first aid, and the ship’s alien technology can perform a synthetic blood transfusion. Roy’s pulse slowly returns to something recognizable, and Rose sinks in her seat. She’s deciding between her safe houses when Jason’s fingers graze her jaw. 

Rose jumps out of her seat, using everything in her power not to deck him in the face. “The fuck…?”

“Hey.” Oh. Jason’s nose is so close to hers that she can feel his breath on her face. She can smell the mint he just put in his mouth. Never once did Rose imagine Jason could be such a sap. The heat of his fingers sears her skin, but she doesn’t pull away. Rose dares a glance down his lips and when she looks back up Jason’s already tilting his head to meet hers. 

His kiss is softer than she expects, lightly brushing his lips over hers, holding her jaw just enough so she can slip away if she wants to. Rose freezes, never expecting this after all this time, all those refusals. Jason starts to pull back before her brain finally stops dividing by zero, and she grabs the back of his neck, crushing her lips against his. Swearing softly, Jason meets her tit for tat, and they stumble out of the med bay and into the hall. 

Rose presses him against the wall, slipping her hands inside the opening of his favorite jacket, feeling the heat rising off his chest and the rush of his heartbeat. Part of her still expect to wake up from this dream in her bed alone, heart hammering, skin flushed, thighs damp with need. She mouths a silent prayer into his lips, to the god she never bothers to answer to, pleading to make the dream real, just this once. 

Jason’s hands wander across her shoulders, down her arms, and around her hips to her back. Rose steps between his legs, pushing his jacket off his shoulders. Breaking for air, Jason’s words come out ragged. “We...we should pick a room. Yours or mine?”

Instead of answering him with words, Rose guides him to his door and shoves him inside, tossing his jacket to the floor. Jason stares at her breathlessly, and she hesitates. “Too much?”

“Never.” His fingers wind in her hair, pulling her back into another kiss.

Rose drinks him in like she’s parched for thirst, scratching the edge of his hairline from the tips of his ears to the base of his skull. Jason sucks in a breath and Rose grins into his mouth. She tastes him, gasping softly as his fingers twist in her curls, pulling at her hair just enough. HIs other hand wanders just south of her waist and he freezes. Stepping back, Rose loosens her hold, looking him over from head to toe. 

Jason pants, taking her in too. “...Are we…?”

Leaning against the closed door, Rose folds her arms. “Are we what, Jason?”

“Is this a onetime thing or…” Jason’s eyes trail back in the direction of the hospital room and suddenly the tension between him and the other Outlaws make a lot more sense. 

Damnit. “I’m a merc, Jason.” Really, she should be happy with the kiss, more than the kiss, but this--former Robin proves hard to let go of. “I’ve stayed here too long as it is.”

Jason’s eyes narrow ever so slightly and Rose plasters on her poker face, hoping he hasn’t found her out tonight of all nights. “Why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Push me away.” His voice wavers as he speaks, and Rose’s heart plummets to her stomach. Damn him. 

“What do you want from me?” And damn her too, that waver is apparently contagious. 

Jason steps closer, sliding his hand in to cup her jaw, the edge of his thumb grazing the bottom of her cheek. “I don’t want to just fuck, Rose.” His eyes close, and he brushes his nose against hers. “I want to--” He clamps his mouth shut, trembling slightly in his touch. 

The word teeters on the edge of his tongue, but it doesn’t come out, so Rose pulls it out with a snarl. “Loving me will get you killed, Jason.”

A sloppy grin forms on his face, and Jason nods at her. “Death isn’t as final as you think.”

“So what. You’re immortal now?” She’s grinning too, and she knows she’s fallen too far to get back up.

Jason brushes his lips against hers. “I sure feel like I am when I’m around you.” His next kiss probes deeper, and one hand tugs on her elbow. “Stay. After this is over.”

Her answer is right there, just inside her mouth, but Rose says something else instead. “Oh? You’re that sure I’m a good fuck?”

His lips smack against hers. “I’m not here to fuck you.”

“Jason--”

He silences her with a finger, and then he traces the edge of her lips with his fingertip. Rose resists the urge to pull it into her mouth and suck on it. She’s doomed. “I’m here to make love to you.”

Rose swallows, freezing on the spot. “I can’t promise you anything.”

His smile slips, and she desperately wants to put it back on his face. Rose doesn’t want to break his heart, not anymore. “Rose--”

“No one can.” Tracing the space where his heart hammers in his chest, Rose whispers softly. “Someone could break in ten minutes from now and shoot me in the head.” Standing up on her tiptoes, she kisses his forehead. “Nothing’s guaranteed.” Then she kisses the back of his hand. “Doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy it while it lasts.”

Jason watches her, his face inscrutable as ever. 

Shit. Did I make things worse? Rose opens her mouth to murmur another apology but Jason kisses her before she can say a word. He pulls her close, his hands seemingly everywhere at once, and yet she craves more of him. Daring to slide her hand up Jason’s shirt, she grins into his lips as he leans heavily into her touch, a groan escaping from his lips despite himself. She grazes the lines of his abdomen with her nails. “Oh,” Rose says softly. 

Jason Todd. Blushing. As he watches her. “Like what you see?” he says just as soft. 

“I haven’t seen anything yet.” She ducks down, pushing up his shirt and following its path with her mouth. 

“Fuck.” One of his wandering hands finds its way back to her hair, holding her head as she breathes against his stomach. “Rose.”

Rose stands up, grinning against his collarbone. “Getting there.” She finds the hollow where his neck meets his shoulder and lavishes her attention there, charged by the tightening of his grip. 

Jason pushes her to arm’s length, taking a ragged breath. He drags down the zipper of her jacket, taking in the sight of her skin inch by inch. Rose presses into his touch, admittedly reddening a bit herself. His lips part with hunger, but it's the wonder in his eyes that stops her in place—like he sees the stars flickering across her skin.  With his fingers he traces the scar on her shoulder and the ones that line her arms. Sucking in a breath, he circles the mark of a bullet on her chest. “That must’ve hurt.”

“Like hell.” Rose mutters, only to gasp when Jason presses his lips against it. “Jason.”

“Shh,” he says softly, breathing in her scent as he edges his fingers beneath her bra and the plastron it holds. He traces a path up her neck and across her throat until he makes it to her ear. “Let me take care of you.”

Why does the thought of him being gentle make her heart beat faster?  Part of her wants him to have his way, and take his time exploring her body. Another, much louder part wants to rile him until he takes her fast and hard. Rose grabs the edge of his shirt, looking up at Jason. He nods, and she bites her lips as she pulls it over his head. 

Holy shit. 

Rose thought she had a lot of scars. Jason has so many she doesn’t even know where to start. There are the bullet marks, the punctures, the rhythmic signs of torture, the line going up the side of his neck and into his hairline where a crowbar must’ve bashed his head in. It’s not until Jason tilts her chin up that Rose realizes she’s been holding her breath. “I’m still here,” he whispers, pulling her into another kiss. She wonders how many times he’s kissed Death on the lips, only to pull back when it wanted him most. 

“Soon, you’ll in bed.” She grins against his lips, finding the latch on his belt. “Booby traps? Really?”

He laughs once, running a hand down her breast, feeling the softness of her skin there. “Safety first.” When he gets to the lines of her abdomen, he swallows, drawing a grin from Rose’s mouth. 

Stepping back, Rose eyes the latch, her brain already processing the potential catastrophes, and the configurations that would enable them. “Gotcha.” The belt clicks open, without a single explosion or poison released. 

Jason blinks at her as she sets the belt aside. “I can’t decide if that’s hot or terrifying.”

Rose stands up on her tiptoes, whispering in his ear. “Why not both?” She punctuates her question with a bite on his ear lobe. The rumble of his groan stirs her chest, sending shockwaves between her legs. Hooking her thumbs in his belt loops, Rose pulls him closer, grinding up against him. 

“Rose--” He says, in pleading or in warning, Rose isn’t quite sure.

“What do you want, Jay?” She runs the tip of her tongue up the ridge, shivering at the way his ragged breaths stir her hair. 

“Bed,” he says hoarsely, “now.” He pulls her with him, and they tumble into the sheets, boots still on. 

It’s a race, then, to see who can get the other’s off the fastest. Four thunks, laughs, and tangled sheets later, Rose climbs up his body, guiding his hands to her belt. Jason’s removed plenty of belts, that Rose is sure, but it’s like he deliberately fumbles his hands against her skin, just so he has an excuse to graze his knuckles there. And damn him, her skin jumps every time. Fine. She’ll make him lose track for real. Rose plants a wet kiss against his lips, running her hands down his shoulders and his arms, guiding his fingers until her belt clangs against his bookshelf before sliding to the floor. “Better,” she murmurs. 

Jason runs his fingertips along the edge of her jeans, drawing his touch up and down her spine. “I could stare at you for hours, you know that?”

Rose snorts. “I can think of better ways to spend your time.”

Tilting his chin in challenge, Jason sits back. “Oh? Like what?”

Biting her bottom lip, Rose catches his wandering hand, and takes it to the button of her jeans. “Lemme show you.”

Jason holds his breath, unbuttoning her jeans and drawing the zipper down. He’s so quiet Rose starts to doubt what her late-night visions have been telling her for months. Maybe they weren’t her precognition talking. Maybe they’re just the wet dreams so many guys and girls have had ever since Jason donned a mask. Searching his eyes, Rose says, “We can stop--”

Holding her gaze, Jason replies, “I don’t want to.” HIs fingers follow hers inside her jeans and inside her underwear, and he sucks in a breath. “Shit, you’re wet.”

Rose blushes, despite herself. “You really all that surprised?” She presses his fingers in slow, small circles, holding onto the headboard behind him for balance. Then she moves his touch faster, harder, gasping against his shoulder. “Nn, fuck.” 

“Breathe.” Jason chuckles softly, pressing a kiss into her shoulder. He moves his fingers more independently now while she’s distracted. And Rose breathes him in, awash in gunpowder and amber, and that salty scent he bears after a fight. Always so uniquely Jason Todd that the smell of it sends Rose right over the edge. He shakes them both with his laughter. “And our pants aren’t even off yet.”

“Shut up.” Rose pulls back to look at him.

He smirks. “Make me.”

Jason doesn’t need to say it twice. Rose assaults his lips with hers, pushing him down into the mattress. Making quick work of his jeans, she pulls them down as he shimmies out of them. Boxers briefs, huh? They’re just a simple grey with a black waist band--for some reason she’d expected some sort of smart-alecy words printed on them.  Sliding down, she runs the tip of her nose up the line of his bulge, grinning as he writhes beneath her. While she sits up, Rose edges her fingers inside, feeling along his length, breathing in Jason’s unsteady gasps. Always so coy and cocky, and now he can’t form a single word. “Cat got your tongue?” she murmurs against his ear. 

Jason turns his head, kissing her long and deep, rolling them over. Rose lifts her hips so he can get her jeans off, and he kisses just south of her belly button. “Mm.” Glancing up at her, Jason grins, kissing harder against that spot, lavishing his tongue until she squirms beneath him. But she doesn’t beg, not yet. The lines in his back are coiled tight, so tight his body might burst at the seams, but Jason takes his time, kissing down her hips, her thighs, her calves. Swallowing her whine, Rose reaches for his shoulder, but Jason takes her hands, placing them back at her sides. 

“Patience, Rose.” He silences her protests with a kiss, diving back between her legs, edging them apart so that he has room. His lips find her ankle, the back of her knee, and Rose heart pounds as he gets closer and closer to her underwear. There’s no hiding her need for him now, with the way it soaks the front of her boyshorts. Jason samples the taste of her through the fabric, giving her one long lick. 

“Oh fuck.” Rose gasps and twists, and Jason has to hold her down with one arm slung across her abs. He peels her underwear off, testing her with different pressures and strokes. Every so often, she catches him looking up at her, assuring himself he’d doing it just the way she likes. Her insides clench, and she twists in bliss, but Jason doesn’t stop, only pausing briefly to come up for air. Even then, his fingers fill in while he wipes his mouth.

“Shh.” He whispers against her mouth, reaching over into his bedside drawer for a condom. Did she say something? 

“Yeah?” Rose asks, and her voice comes out hoarse. Fuck, she must’ve been screaming. While he slides on the condom, she’s reaching over for a bottle of water, downing half of it without giving a fuck to whom drank from it last.

Jason returns to her, surprisingly shy when they’re so close to merging their bodies. He gives her one chaste kiss, then another, letting her lead the pace. She winds one hand around the back of his neck, scratching the skin at the base of his skull. The other she uses to thumb the scar next to his eyebrow, the sharp line of his jaw, the sheen of sweat running down his neck to his collarbone, and that delicious line that runs down to the thatch between his legs. Guiding him inside her, Rose closes her eyes, letting his groan wash over her shoulder. 

Rose traces circles across his back as he thrusts in and out, only to grip his shoulder when he picks up the pace. Jason grins against her mouth, sliding his hand between them, and Rose jolts, clinging to him as she whimpers into his neck. “It’s okay,” he murmurs against her mouth. “You can let go.” His tone meanders between loving and teasing, and maybe for Jason there is no line between them. 

She doesn’t want to, not again before he does. But then Jason has to fucking whisper sweet nothings in her ear. 

“You’re so beautiful when you let go,” he says softly, and her world flashes white, much like it does on the cusp of a vision. Her body coils like a spring, and Rose hooks her ankles around his hips, drawing him deeper inside as she clenches around him. 

Jason’s eyes pinch shut as he loses his tightly held control, and Rose rolls her hips until he falls to her side. “Holy hell,” he gasps softly, muffled by his pillow. 

“Yeah.” Rose shouldn’t, but she can’t help but kiss his left temple, tucking them in and tossing the spent condom aside. 

She spends the night committing every line of his body to memory. And it helps soothe her in the weeks, months, and years ahead. 

---

The next morning, Rose rolls to get closer to him, only to find his side of the bed empty. In his place, Jason left a small, folded piece of paper, and Rose takes her time undoing all the creases. 

Rose,

You’ve no idea how amazing you are. I hope last night isn’t the end of it, but I understand if it is.

--Jason.

Beneath his name, Jason’s inscribed his number, and though Rose memorizes it within seconds, she always keeps the note close, in her utility belt or between her bra and her plastron, next to her beating heart. 

#dc comics #jayrose #jason todd #rose wilson #demisexual jason todd #bisexual rose wilson #actually everyone in this fic is bi unless stated otherwise #melody writes #enemies to lovers #friends to lovers #and they were teammates #lemme know what you think!

[monstersdownthepath]

Spiritual Spotlight: Narriseminek, the Crownless

Chaotic Neutral Protean Cantor of Ascendance, Keketars, and Revelations

Domains: Chaos, Knowledge, Liberation, Madness Subdomains*: Protean, Education, Self-Realization, Truth

Concordance of Rivals, pg. 14

Obedience: Surround yourself in a burning circle of flames at least 5 feet out from where you stand, chanting prayers until the flames burn down to coals or smoke from any source harms you. Benefit: Gain a +4 sacred bonus on saves against fire-based spells and attacks.

(*IMPORTANT NOTE: The Subdomains are my best guess; Subdomains are not listed in Concordance of Rivals)

Hope you remember to bring oil and tinderboxes! And remember to practice fire safety, because this Obedience is a real good way to burn down an entire house. Or forest. There’s also the worrying detail that this Obedience requires you to wait until the fires burn down to the coals, suggesting that a ring of oil or grease will NOT, in fact, satisfy the conditions of the ritual. That’s a real chin-scratcher to me, and though my Rules-Fu may be weak, I can see how a more exacting DM might force their players to jump through hoops (or into them as the case may be). Do you have to lug around wood or paper and burn it? Can ‘smoke from any source’ come from a cigarette or stick of incense you have nearby? Does the Obedience end early if a freak gust blows ash into your face? Questions, questions.

Also don’t ignore the fact that standing in a ring of fire while chanting ominously is incredibly suspicious and you probably shouldn’t do it in a location someone can barge into, especially a Good someone. Or a Paladin someone. Or a Devil-hunter someone. In fact, it’s really hard to do this Obedience regularly without seeming like you might soon plot to sacrifice babies, so you might want to warn your party ahead of time that no, you don’t worship Asmodeus, you worship a different flaming serpent! ... Wait, Asmodeus isn’t a serpent in Pathfinder, scratch that last line.

As for the benefit, nothing we haven’t seen before. Nothing special, nothing grand. Fire is the most common damage type, so this ability WILL come up often and it’ll save you a lot of HP, and for that it has my applause. It’s just not exciting in any other way. I’m a little concerned that it doesn’t say “fire-based spells and abilities,” but “attacks,” but that could just be me being picky about language and wording. It comes in handy when dealing with fae, but it makes me paranoid everywhere else!

Boons are gained slowly, gained at levels 12, 16, and 20. Servants of the Monitors, though, can enter the Proctor Prestige Class as early as level 8. If entered as early as possible, you can earn your Boons at levels 10, 14, and 16. You MUST take the Monitor Obedience feat, NOT Deific Obedience. Monitors grant only a single set of Boons.

Boon 1: Ascended. Gain Anticipate Peril 3/day, Detect Thoughts 2/day, or Heroism 1/day.

Oooh, not bad! Three decent spells! Anticipate Peril gives the target a +5 bonus to Initiative for one combat, and as I’ve said before, Initiative is one of the best stats you can have bonuses to. Heroism gives +2 to arguably more important stats, though, in saving throws, attack rolls, and damage rolls. It also lasts for a phenomenally long time--a whole 10 minutes per level! It’s a pretty good boost for the beatstick of your party, but I’m not sure if it’s worth giving up on boosting up to three people’s Initiative (or one person’s Initiative three times). It depends on how many attacks your local DPS can throw out in a round, I suppose, or if your team is made up of the more fragile sorts who’d give their left arms to move first. Do note that Anticipate Peril only works for one initiative roll before fizzling, but Herosim’s lengthy duration means it will likely last through multiple fights, so scouting is essential if you want to use AP!

Detect Thoughts is something we’ve covered before, and though it technically only has niche use, it’s invaluable against enemies who’re holding information you need or sifting through crowds for specific individuals who’s thinking about how bad it would be if you found them. It’s powerful when you NEED it, but Anticipate Peril and Heroism are useful in the many battles that come with Pathfinder’s adventures.

Boon 2: Crownless Crown. You gain a floating halo of Protean symbols around your head. 1/day, you may use the Reshape Reality ability of the Keketar Protean, heightened to a 7th level spell instead of 9th; this means you may cast Mirage Arcana as a spell-like ability, except all of the illusions are woven with Maelstrom matter and become partially (20%) real, even to disbelievers, and the DC to see through the illusion is 17+your Charisma modifier.

CHAOS!

CHAOS!!

I CAN DO ANYTHING!!!

Have you ever thought to yourself “this battlefield is really nice, but I would prefer to be anywhere else”? Have you ever found yourself wishing you were on a nice beach while in the middle of a dungeon, or that this jungle would look better as a desert, or that this desert could use a giant glacier smack in the middle of it? Then have I got an ability for you!

Reshape Reality can overlay one 20ft square per level with terrain of your choice, and here’s some math for you: a 20ft square is 4x4 tiles, which means you affect 16 tiles per level. If you’re level 14 when you first get this ability, that means fourteen 20ft squares are yours to command, or 224 tiles. Numbers are good and all, but how about a visual demonstration?

(Green: You. Blue: unfortunate enemy)

BAM! That’s one configuration you can throw it down in. It affects a LOT of terrain, basically letting you decide if the current room is to your liking. You can also throw it down in a long line or loop to form a ‘cage’ for yourself and your enemies, or form an enormous barrier to cut a swath between enemy forces. Like many illusion spells, Mirage Arcana is best used by someone with a good imagination... But even the most unimaginative sorts can still cause an environment to turn itself into pure acid or magma. Whoever fails their save against the illusion takes 5d6 damage from hazards you manifest, while disbelievers still take 1d6 because of its semi-real nature. 

You can also do some fancy things like creating a small stony labyrinth or even just whip up some cover for yourself and your allies if you so desire. And there’s nothing saying that every square has to be the same environment, either! Go nuts! This is one of the most powerful battlefield control abilities you can get! ... Provided your allies are away that reality is an illusion.

Also, I think it’s really cute that you get a floaty rune crown like all the Proteans. Makes it real hard to hide what you are and what you’re worshiping, though, so watch out!

Boon 3: Mantle of Revelation. 1/day, you can cast Foresight as a spell-like ability.

For those who’ve never used it, Foresight is a level 9 spell that lasts 10 minutes per level. Mechanically, it grants the recipient a +2 to AC and Reflex saves, and prevents the recipient from ever being surprised or flat-footed. At high levels, robbing an enemy of a surprise round can mean the difference between someone outright dying to a Sneak Attack or a spell thrown from out of sight, making this spell a life-saver... Though not a level 9 lifesaver. Such a feat could easily be replicated by a level 7 or 8 spell, allowing more crunch to be packed into this Boon, right? AC is nice and all, but...

You know what else is nice? These little portions:

“Once Foresight is cast, you receive instantaneous warnings of impending danger or harm to the subject of the spell.”

Don’t open the chest, don’t drink that potion, don’t sample the cheese, don’t take another step forward, don’t say the next words you’re planning, don’t cast that spell, don’t don’t don’t... Foresight stops a LOT of incoming harm in its tracks, allowing you to step back just as an arrow flies at your face, or stop your foot just before stepping on a landmine, or re-evaluate your attack target if forewarned of some sort of defense they have. You can even cast it on someone else to give them the same benefit... so long as you’re within earshot. You need to be able to communicate with them in some way to grant them the warnings, making it more attractive to cast on yourself than another, unless you have some form of telepathic connection with the second subject.

And speaking of second subjects, here’s the other interesting portion:

“The spell gives you a general idea of what action you might take to best protect yourself and gives you a +2 insight bonus to AC and on Reflex saves.”

And gives you a +2 insight bonus. Why’s that important? Because it means ‘general idea of what action you might take’ does NOT directly lead to this insight bonus, but is in addition to it. Foresight’s greatest power relies a bit on DM fiat, which is painful if they aren’t super open to discussion of the spell’s minutiae, but elaborated on and discussed beforehand with the DM will allow you to solve encounters MUCH more smoothly than normal. Say, perhaps, the enemy has a Scroll of Disintegrate on them that no one has seen yet. Foresight may warn you ahead of time to bolster your Reflex save even further, or somehow strengthen your touch AC. You don’t know WHY you’re receiving this warning, but all will become apparent in time.

Foresight warns you not to open a door, but you must to progress. The spell then warns you to protect yourself from Fire damage, and you can extrapolate from there. Or perhaps it tells you to draw your weapons and prepare your spells as you walk down an otherwise empty hallway, just before you’re ambushed.

Really, Foresight is a far more powerful spell than many give it credit for because so much of its power relies on interpretation and the DM working with the fact you can see danger coming at least six seconds before it happens. See? Me being ridiculously careful about interpretations of wording worked out in everyone’s favor for once!

You can read more about Narri here.

#Spiritual Spotlight #Neutrality Notes #pathfinder #Dungeons and Dragons

[fredheads]

one word fic prompt - OREOS

read on ao3

“Want some Oreos?” is the first thing FP’s new roommate says to him. 

Okay, first he says “Hi! I’m a hugger” and hugs FP and makes a whole production out of the fact that they’re going to be squeezed into the same sweaty room for the next two semesters. But this is the first conversational attempt, thrown out as Fred’s suddenly on his way to the door with the hand of a random brunette (she’d been in the room when FP got there) locked in his. 

“We’re going to the dining hall. Want some Oreos? Apparently, you just sneak them out in your bag. I mean, or you could come with us.” Fred is bouncing on the balls of his feet, a real energetic guy. “I haven’t eaten all day and I hear the dinners are really good.” 

“Nah, you guys go,” says FP slowly, folding a towel with unnecessary precision on his bed. “I have to unpack.” 

This isn’t true. FP had left his trailer with exactly one duffel bag, and it wasn’t even full. But the girl is glaring at him like she’s daring him to accept, and Fred seems like a little too much for him right now. 

When Fred returns from the dining hall he’s flanked by the same brunette, who FP has begun to assume is his girlfriend. They crowd onto Fred’s bottom bunk and start talking excitedly about their classes and the campus and a host of things that FP has yet to care about. Then Fred has his hand on her thigh, and then they’re suddenly kissing - kissing so frantically and passionately that FP starts looking up from his book to see when and if they’re breathing. 

“Hey, FP-” His new roommate says hesitantly at around nine, “is it okay if Hermione stays the night?” 

(Hermione. What kind of name was that? Rich coming from someone named Forsythe, but still.) 

“No problem,” says FP, and puts his headphones on so Fred knows that he knows what ‘stay the night’ means. Fred wastes no time in putting his tongue down Hermione’s throat again, and FP turns over and faces the wall, turning up the Thompson Twins as far as they’ll go and obstinately not listening to the bed creaking, not listening to his roommate moaning, not thinking about the rustle of sheets or their naked bodies or the way that Hermione moans his new roommate’s name every so often in a way that tells him beyond a shadow of a doubt that Fred Andrews of room 309 knows what he’s doing in the sack. 

/ 

So Hermione’s not his girlfriend. Hermione’s not his girlfriend, or else Fred’s a horrible person and FP’s become an unwitting accomplice in some kind of guy code for cheaters, because after Hermione comes Debbie, and Sandra, and Sarah, and Jessica, and Courtney, and Faye, and Jeanie, and a whole ledger of young women, enough to fill a small cheerleading squad. Hermione does reappear, and Sarah and Jeanie show up again sometimes - Fred likes redheads, he learns - but mostly it’s a rotating door that creaks open around eleven every night, spilling a giggly Fred and insert-woman’s-name-here into the dark shadows of their dorm room where FP turns over to the wall and pretends to be asleep. 

FP’s resigned himself to being the good roommate, to downloading new music onto his device at the library so that he can drown out the girls and the mattress creaks with KISS or Nirvana or AC/DC. Most of the time he’s lucky enough to be asleep, headphones on, by the time Fred gets in, but other nights he hears far too much of Fred’s sexcapades - the volume only goes up so far. 

He’s learned a lot about Fred’s sexual habits that he wished he didn’t know - aside from the obvious, he now knows that Fred has a weird, annoying giggle - that a large part of his foreplay is whispering sweet things in the girl’s ear (sometimes, out of pure curiosity, FP dials the volume down to hear snatches of it) and that Fred Andrews is without a shadow of a doubt a giver. 

But he doesn’t mention it, just because he doesn’t want to have that conversation, and really who is he is to keep the guy from having a good time? FP’s no one, just some dumb kid who’s here on a football scholarship and who’s failing all his classes. FP’s a heavy sleeper - Fred’s no worse than listening to his dad swear at the TV and break bottles and hit things back home. At least he has his music. 

So they don’t talk about it. And in the morning, when the girls slip out, Fred turns his big toothy smile on FP and tells him what a hell of a good friend he is (in Fred’s mind they’re friends now, Fred doesn’t refer to him as a roommate anymore, despite FP never putting effort in) and it’s momentarily like being blinded by the sun. 

Fred’s always inviting him to go places - to the dining hall, to the library, to the pub or to some event or another - but FP never accepts. He’s not sure why. Fred never stops asking though, and he’s started leaving dining-hall packets of pre-sealed Oreos all around their room - possibly out of worry that FP doesn’t know how to feed himself. 

FP appreciates it. They have a long conversation one day about whether golden Oreos are better than the traditional ones - Fred’s on the side of golden Oreos, though FP could have told you that by looking at him - and until Hermione comes storming in asking what Fred got on the English 100 midterm, it’s almost enough to make FP believe he’d made a friend after all. 

/ 

They’re about halfway through a mid-sized high school’s cheerleading squad when the door opens at far past eleven on Friday night - almost two in the morning, by FP’s watch - and Fred and another girl come stumbling in. FP had turned down the volume on his music to lull himself to sleep, and hears every word of their conversation. 

“Sssh, shh,” Fred is saying, his words laced with that annoying giggle of his, though he’s clearly trying to keep it down. “My roommate’s sleeping. We have to be quiet.” His voice takes on a teasing, scolding tone that makes something go loose and floaty in FP’s stomach. “Seriously” 

FP feels a weird fondness for Fred hit him, an unexpected softness in his chest. Fred didn’t have to be that considerate, and yet he was. But the other person’s voice jars him abruptly out of his thoughts. 

“Oh, I can be quiet.” It’s a much deeper voice than FP had been expecting - a man’s voice. He opens his eyes to slits and sees them in the sparse light from the curtain - Fred’s clothed form and some muscular, heavy body in front of him that definitely doesn’t belong to someone named Jeanie. The stranger is standing so that FP can only see his back, running his hands slowly up Fred’s arms. There’s a laugh in the voice - not Fred’s sex-muddled giggling, a heavy, warm amusement that’s surely punctuated with a sexy eyebrow raise. “Can you?” 

Fred’s voice has gone huskier now too, and FP loses it under the sound of his music. Slowly, very slowly, not really knowing what he’s doing, he inches his hand under the sheets toward the player and taps pause. The silence is like a jolt. 

“On the bed,” Fred’s saying, speaking between kisses, and then the bed on the other side of the room creaks loudly as the bigger guy climbs onto it. They keep kissing, lots of little ones that means they’re going slow, taking their time. They smell a lot like beer - the campus pub is one of the few places outside of these four walls that FP has ventured, and he figures they must have come from there. His stomach feels odd, his hands shaky, and he really should have gone to the bathroom before Fred came home. 

“Sssh,” says Fred, and then the rustling that means clothes are coming off, the loud unmistakeable sound of a zipper coming down and denim hitting the floor. FP swallows hard and circles the play button with his thumb, knowing what he should be doing but unwilling to do it. The two of them are laughing quietly, the bedsprings squeaking, but as far as FP knows they’re still making out - because he isn’t quite sure how it would work, the other thing, but - 

Through his headphones, everything seems somehow louder, like listening to your own blood when you press a shell against your ear at the beach. He waits and waits for the urge to hit the play button again, to drown out their playful, sexy, twisted, loud, lovemaking under the wailing tones of an electric guitar, but it’s like his thumb has frozen, or gone numb, and he can’t hit the button. 

He could be annoyed. He could be disgusted. He could at least acknowledge how very, very wrong and invasive it is to listen to your drunken roommate friend make love to a guy twice his size, even if Fred is essentially putting it on display for him like a flagrant piece of performance art. 

Only he just lies there in the dark, legs squeezed together, and listens. 

To all of it. 

/ 

Thus begins the boys. Hermione still comes around, and a nerdy redhead or two, but suddenly it’s not uncommon for Joes and Jacks and Mikes and Stevens to slip under Fred’s covers, to stumble laughingly through his door and leave their socks and jeans in a trail toward Fred’s bed. The dining hall offerings from his roommate get better - brownies and cookies as well as packaged Oreos- and while FP could get such things for himself - he pays for it too, after all - it feels oddly touching and important that Fred is apologizing for his transgression in such a way. FP munches his brownies and turns his music up and focuses on not failing his classes. 

Once, feeling bold, FP inquires about the name of the first boy Fred had had home - the one with the muscles and the hulking back, who had nevertheless patiently and obediently waited for Fred to give the orders  - even as mundane as sit down and kiss me. (FP’s stomach gets a weird kind of churning in it when he thinks about that, which definitely has nothing to do with the Oreos he’s been eating for every meal.) 

Fred laughs. “That was Tom,” he says, knotting his necktie in front of the mirror, “but you won’t see him around again. He likes to play straight. I only got him home with me because he’d been drinking.“ 

Fred had left in the same flurry of energy that he always did, and FP had walked to class alone, his thoughts turning sluggishly through his brain. That was that, then. Fred was the person he’d been warned about - some kind of homosexual predator, stalking the halls of his school and picking out upstanding young straight men, getting them drunk and corrupting them, plying them with drinks and love-talk and his giggly sunlight warmth, luring them into his trap. 

Only Tom had acted pretty damn happy about getting caught. 

Is he homophobic? FP wonders, sliding into the dining hall after hours, when the place is almost closed. He grabs a sandwich and two packages of Oreos and carries them back to his room, mulling it over. It was possible. His dad had raised him on the loud belief that people like that were disgusting, depraved, barely a step above animals. It didn’t seem to FP that it could be natural, and yet Fred (Fred and Henry, Fred and Steven, Fred and Myles) seemed to make it work every night just fine. 

It was just undeniable that he felt a certain way when Fred brought boys home, a way that he didn’t feel when it had only been girls. And he didn’t like the feeling - an antsy crawling, a churning sickness, a heat and heaviness in the pit of his gut that made him squirm and kept him from sleeping. 

So maybe he was homophobic. Whatever. He wasn’t going to say anything about it. 

And if his thoughts turned to Fred and Tom when he was jerking off, that was his business. 

/ 

And yet one day he has to bring it up, because Mike or Steven or whoever had been so fucking satisfied last night, had so loudly and so enthusiastically moaned about Fred’s predisposition toward hitting all the pleasure centres down there that FP hadn’t managed a single second of sleep. It wasn’t the noise - he had his headphones for that, and Fred was good about giving his conquests the caveat that his roommate needed his beauty rest - but it was something about the way the guy acted with Fred – too brash, too experienced, too pleased. It was a boy FP had seen before, and this doubled his annoyance - the possibility that this could become a regular ritual, that Fred and this specific man - rather than a faceless, solid, co-ed cheerleading squad of them - could penetrate FP’s four walls and make loving and passionate sex to his roommate for the rest of the year. 

He steps in front of Fred while he’s on his way out to meet Hermione for a game of frisbee, a red wool sweater on that makes him look annoyingly sporty and collegiate and brings out the sparse brown freckles on his nose. 

“I don’t think you should have guys over anymore,” says FP bluntly. And then, when Fred says nothing - “I don’t want you to." 

Fred had swallowed hard, his eyes welling up with tears - FP had managed to say everything in those few sentences that FP Senior had ever said about gay men in his life - and had only nodded, his lips trembly and his eyes looking anywhere but FP’s face. And so the sex stops, and Fred’s smile stops, and Fred being in the room at all stops for awhile, and the Oreos and brownies and cupcakes stop, even when Halloween passes and they have cupcakes iced in orange with confetti bats - something that ordinarily would have sent Fred out of his mind with glee. 

FP takes two home from the cafeteria and leaves them on a little plate on Fred’s side of the room, adds a package of cafeteria Oreos as a peace offering. They go untouched. 

/

Fred goes every Wednesday to a meeting that is advertised on posters around the quad by an upside-down rainbow triangle and a heart. FP tears one down on his way home from the pub, hoping that anyone who sees him do so will just think him drunk, or a run-of-the-mill homophobe. From this he gleans the room number and that these meetings are open to all, newcomers welcome. 

What the hell. He swallows his pride, combs his hair, and shows up on Wednesday, 

The room is a big, airy, window-y one in the campus student centre. Students are sitting on the carpet in a big circle, and there are a lot more people than FP had expected. Nervous, he finds an open patch and sinks into a cross-legged pose on the ground. Fred’s there, and FP devotes all his energy to not looking at him, though he can tell Fred’s eyes are locked on his face with flaming intensity.  

The leader is a short girl with too many piercings in her ears and a shock of pink hair. She speaks above the general buzz of conversation, and one by one, the other students fall silent and listen to her. The girl smiles. 

"Today’s topic is misconceptions about bisexuality. To start off, does anyone want to share some that they’ve experienced?" 

The girl to FP’s right shoots up her hand before he has time to process the question. "People always think you’re down for a threeway." 

"That’s right. And some people think bisexuality and monogamy can’t go together. Anyone else?" 

"If you’re a girl dating a boy, people think you can’t be bisexual anymore,” speaks up a redhead across the circle. 

The girl with pink hair nods. “Yeah, that’s a big one." 

FP feels lost. Slowly, without looking at Fred, he puts his hand up as if in class. The girl turns to look at him, and FP feels the same nerves well up in his stomach that he gets in lectures when he knows he’s about to say something stupid. 

"Yes?" 

FP clears his throat. He can feel Fred’s eyes burning holes into his face. "I- could you explain what that is?" 

"Monogamy?” asks the girl, blinking confusedly at him. 

“No-” FP’s beginning to regret putting his hand up. His face is warm and he knows he’s blushing, though he couldn’t explain to himself why. “Bisexual. What does that mean." 

The girl beams at him, looking around the circle. "Does anyone want to take a crack at a definition?" 

"Bisexual is when you like boys and girls,” answers an extremely handsome boy to FP’s left, and smiles at him in a way that hits all the panic centres in FP’s brain. He almost gets up and runs. 

“No,” another boy speaks up, cutting him off, “bisexual is when you like more than one gender. Doesn’t have to be boys and girls." 

The first boy grins, showing dimples. "I stand corrected." 

"Bisexual doesn’t mean threeways,” chimes in an Asian girl with a ponytail. 

“Or that you’re slutty,” adds in her friend. “Or open to everyone." 

The definition turns into a long conversation, and FP does his best to follow it. His palms itch, but he feels more relaxed now that the attention is off of him. He can’t tell where Fred’s eyes are. 

FP’s never dated anyone, but he knew he wasn’t gay. FP had sex with girls, liked having sex with girls - had even had some since he’d arrived at this school. But he had not been made aware - not even by his father - of this third option. His stomach feels very tight.  

They break for snacks after the discussion circle, and FP makes a beeline for the cups and water. His mouth feels as dry as the Sahara just from listening. Before he can pour himself some, though, all five-foot-ten-inches of his angry roommate is barrelling up to him and hitting him in the stomach. Fred grabs FP by the arm and drags him out of the room, shoving him into a nearby supply closet and slamming the door. 

"Fred, what-" 

"You can’t be here!” Fred declares, his voice shaking with anger. In the dim light, he can still see his roommate perfectly. FP’s never heard him so mad. “You have some fucking nerve!" 

FP can’t resist challenging him. "Why not?" 

"Because this is a safe space!” Fred stands his ground, and FP is reminded with a jolt of the way he had spoken to Tom, who he’d since learned was an RA, a bouncer, and was older than Fred as well as twice his size. His stomach goes floaty again. “For good people. Who don’t want to be attacked. So please just go-" 

"The poster says open to all,” FP points out. “A guy can’t want to learn something?" 

Fred’s hands are curled into shaking fists. "Why don’t you stay in your world, and I stay in mine." 

"Pretty hard to do when we share the same nine feet." 

"Fuck you.” Fred looks oddly close to tears, the way he had the day FP had told him to stop bringing boys home. He shakes a fist at FP, which FP finds endearingly brave. “I’m just warning you, if you do anything to hurt any of these people, I’ll make you sorry." 

"You’re one to talk about hurting people,” FP retorts angrily. 

Fred pauses to stare at him, his mouth agape and his face pink. “What does that mean?" 

FP hadn’t meant to say any of this, but suddenly the words are pouring out of him, too fast for him to stop. "I mean you never spared a thought to how I felt when you were parading people past me every night. You never thought about how it might feel to listen to your roommate have sex all the time. Hear everyone talk about what a stud he is. Or wonder if something’s wrong with you because you were kissing every fucking boy on the campus except for me." 

FP hadn’t meant to say that last part. Fortunately, Fred’s angry enough that he breezes right by the awkward moment, the air around his retort crackling with heat. "I wouldn’t kiss you if you were the last person on earth!" 

"Good,” yells FP, and then before he can think of anything else witty to add, Fred grabs him by the front of his shirt and drags him down to his height and smashes their lips together. 

There’s nothing polite about this kiss - it’s all anger and all tongues and open mouths. FP kisses him and Fred kisses back, his tongue on FP’s teeth and FP’s stomach up somewhere around his heart and his heart fluttering up somewhere near his diaphragm. When they break apart Fred starts to laugh, his laughter vibrating against FP’s teeth. “That’s what this was about?” he asks. 

“What?” asks FP, spots blinking in front of his eyes. His mind is reeling. Something about the way Fred tasted - fuck. Fuck. His stomach clenches, threatens to empty his guts out onto the floor. His hands are shaking. He’s never envied Hermione so much in his life. 

“You were jealous?” Fred’s laughing, but not meanly. His eyes are sparkling. “This whole time?" 

"Wouldn’t you be? 

Fred kisses him again, tenderly, all heavy tongue and wetness on FP’s lips when he pulls away. FP strains forward to follow him before realizing Fred was breaking the kiss. Fred notices and smiles. 

"Do you want to go back to the room?" 

FP looks down at his hands, at their two feet, only inches apart on the closet floor. "I, um..” Fred has a hand on the bottom of his chin, is running a thumb against FP’s lip, distracting him. He feels himself blush - worlds away from the cocky jock he used to be in high school. He keeps his voice low. “I don’t really know how-" 

"It’s okay,” Fred whispers in FP’s ear, and FP shivers, all the way down his spine to his toes. “I’ll show you. And all those other boys?” Fred licks a stripe up FP’s ear, his breath hot on his skin, and FP almost floats away into heaven. “Consider it practice for the real thing." 

#AND THEY WERE ROOMMATES #fred andrews #fp jones #fredsythe #*blows a kiss to briana* #halcooper

[floatyhands]

on a bicycle built for two.

(Harvey is about to get hit by a dodgeball.)

#this is a joke like maybe two people will get #btaa made a reference to daisy bell already #but i didnt notice until after i came up with this #harvey dent #gilda dent #gilda gold #headcanon doodles #apollo #floaty does dc #doings of the dents

[tumblunni]

Help bunni decide a cosplay!

Sadly im probably gonna be missing the gaming con thats happening soon thanks to all the dentist stuff and sister stuff leaving me flat broke. But im gonna aim to go for the film amd comic con in march, even if its more of a marvel and dc thing with only occasional other stuff. But the nice shopkeeper i befriended at christmas will be there! Also if i go to one thats a little further away i have time to attempt to make a cosplay maybe? The only problem is that i still have no idea what to pick!

* Idea 1: Magma Admin Tabitha, because i look almost exactly like him and itd be less pressure worrying about my self being innacurate no matter how accurate the costume is. Negative side is that the costume is quite complex and would probably be really hot and heavy wearing two layers and then a binder underneath. Unless i can manage to make some sort of fake turtleneck jumper thats more breatheable?

* idea 2: team galactic grunt! Cos theyre my faves of faves! Also i already have the hair lol. Not sure exactly what material to make the uniform from though, whats affordable but still cpuld look like spacesuit stuff? Also id be worried about people making fun of me for being fat and cosplaying a thin character.

* idea 3: team skull grunt! Cos theyre my second favpurite team and there's at least one chubby grunt in the anime. However both a downside and an upside is that its sort of a "casual cosplay"? Would be very easy to make and i might feel guilty i took the easy option.

* idea 4: C H A R O N. Pluses: it my fave character in all of fiction forever. Minuses: its hard to dresd up as an accurate grandpa withput wearing complex makeup or a latex mask, both of which are really uncomfortable and look awful. Also embarassing to dress as an accurate grandpa, alas! Kinda embarassing even to dress as him without the gramp makeup and bald cap and stuff, cos anyone who knew who he was would know he was a grandpa. "Why do you like a grandpa?" says rational person number 258, and bunni dies of embarassment

* idea 5: pokemon gijinka? Plus is that i can make up the design so nobody can ever tell me i'm wrong and if i cant find the rigjt materials i can always improvise. Minus is that i have NO IDEA which pokemon to pick! So many good ones!!! And aaa i cant really do my gijinka rotom oc Gizmo cos i really don't think the whole design would work on me when im a different body shape, skintone, hairstyle etc.

Idea 6: gijinka of some other fave monster from another game?? Cos pokemon gijinkas are common but heartless gijinkas are less so. Also way less monsters to choose from! But less of a chance of being recognised unless i just pick the basic Shadow :/

Addendum idea: floaty pal? I was thinking i could possibly have my rotom plush on one of those nearly invisible strings and figurw out how to wire it down my sleeve so i could make it move. But thatd probably require a lot more smartness than i have!

So aaaa does anyone have any tips? Or any of these ideas sound good to you?

[themyskira]

Wonder Woman Annual #2

Previously in FUCKITY FUCK FUCK I FORGOT THERE WAS AN ANNUAL AS WELL: Diana prepared to face down her most terrifying foes yet: the Dark Gods.

Who or what are the Dark Gods? Dunno.

What do they want? No clue.

What is this awesome and terrible power that they wield? So far, mostly just the ability to shoot lasers out of their eyes and incite people to deliver badly-written villainous monologues.

Why are we supposed to be so pants-pissingly afraid of them? Because James Robinson told us so.

Last issue ended with the Dark Gods manifesting over Washington DC, at which point it was revealed that they are… giant floating statues, I guess? But, like, scary floating statues. With lasers. So scary.

And then moments later, a couple of Star Sapphires arrived to whisk Diana away so she could appear in this shitty annual.

Diana is teleported to the Star Sapphires’ home planet of Zamaron, which is heavily battle-damaged.

The two Sapphires who brought her here are called Miss Bloss and Miri Riam, who are apparently pre-established minor Green Lantern characters — something I had to figure out on my own, because Robinson just assumes we all known them, and that Diana does too (I’m reasonably sure they’ve never met). The one time his overexplaining might have actually been useful, and he couldn’t be arsed taking a panel or two to make introductions.

Diana yells at them that she’s too busy to help with whatever their deal is, and launches into a recap of last issue. But, you know, that was all of two weeks ago, so by all means, spend a page getting us up to speed.

She’s also still throwing around ‘crazy’ and ‘insane’ like they’re going out of style. 

“…and although I’m not certain — the woman who told me was insane at the time--“

How about ‘possessed’, ‘out of control’, ‘somewhat incoherent’ or ‘compromised’? Any of these would be more accurate in this context, as well as not equating mental illness with dangerous and violent behaviour.

But anyway, essentially Diana says ‘my world is being attacked by the Dark Gods and it’s my fault’, and Miss Bloss is like, ‘well, if that was your fault, then our thing must be your fault, too’, and points up at the giant floating Dark God statue thing that Diana has somehow failed to notice until this exact moment.

Oh, goody.

Diana starts questioning them about what happened.  Honestly, that’s really all she does these days.  If she’s not delivering plot recaps herself, she’s setting up allies for flashback-exposition or allowing villains to monologue at her. Oh, sure, occasionally she fights somebody, but mostly she’s just a vessel for tedious exposition.

Miss Bloss describes the Dark God’s attack:

“Even to recall it now, it feels like a dream or vision from another world. Almost like we were looking at ourselves from outside of it all.”

The first time I read this, I took it to be a figure of speech. I interpreted it as an expression of Miss Bloss’s deep level of shock at the devastation she’d experienced, that it still felt unreal, as though it had happened to somebody else.

I was giving Robinson too much credit: he meant it literally.

As we’ll learn in a few pages’ time, one of the Dark Gods has some kind of power over people’s perceptions, enabling him to induce in others a sense of unreality and dreamlike detachment. We’ll learn that the Dark Gods have deliberately used this ability in order to confuse enemies and limit their ability to respond to or even comprehend attacks.

Frazer Irving — who illustrates the flashback, along with a couple of other scenes in this issue — plays into this well.  His stylised art and colour work lends a somewhat eerie dreamlike quality to his pages, creating a sense of altered reality.

Unfortunately, Robinson can’t write dreamlike.

So what in theory should be an eerie, confusing, unreal flashback instead just turns into Miss Bloss telling us that her memories of the attack are eerie and unreal and hazy… aaaaand then proceeding to describe the attack, the enemy, his name, the concept he embodies, his powers and the precise reason why he was able to kill so many Star Sapphires, all in exacting detail. 

The Dark God who attacked the Sapphires is called Karnell and he calls himself the god of love, but the love he embodies is dark and gritty and edgy and corrupted. He can sense any ‘impurities’ or ‘flaws’ in a person’s love and rub it in their faces. When he does this to Star Sapphires, something something their rings freak out and they spontaneously combust.

Diana asks, ‘yeah okay, but you didn’t know that this was my fault when you dragged me here, so what gives?’, and Bloss and Miri are like, ‘welp, our leaders are all dead, Carol Ferris is busy in another comic, we all frankly suck, and you were a Star Sapphire once in that Blackest Night crossover event.’

At which point I went, ‘wait huh what??? but that was before the New 52 reboot!’, before remembering that Geoff Johns’ entire preboot GL run survived the reboot for no other reason than because Geoff Johns gets whatever he wants.

Diana agrees to lead the Sapphires against Krakoom (I’m sorry, I’m not going to bother to learn his name, he’s not worth that kind of time), and the Sapphires respond by giving her the Nazi salute due to an unfortunate artistic miscalculation.

Diana: And if I am going to stand among you — fight alongside you — let me look the part. Sapphires: As you wish it, so do we, Wonder Woman… be a Star Sapphire once more.

And with that, they give Diana a makeover.

It’s not a bad costume, especially when you compare it to her Blackest Night design. That one tried to ape Carol Ferris’ hideous then-costume, which featured hip cut-outs and a plummeting neckline that ended around the crotch area, by giving Diana a bathing suit with hip-holes and a bared midriff. This design retains many familiar Star Sapphire costume elements — the stiff pointed white collar, the combination tiara/mask, the starburst symbol, the long gloves and high boots — without going into creepy male-gazey territory.

buuuuut it also looks like Diana is wearing a pink apron over her usual costume, and that is something I cannot get past. It also varies wildly across the issue, depending on which of the four credited artists is drawing it.

By the way, I say ‘makeover’ because despite violet blaze on her right ring finger, it took me several times flicking back and forth before I was certain that Diana had been deputised into the Corps as opposed to just being given a new costume in order to “look the part”, as she put it. I know this sounds like it should have been self-evident, but Robinson gives absolutely no indication of any deeper change in her. Not even lip service to the fact that Diana is connected, through the power ring, to the emotional spectrum and the violet energies of love.

Contrast this with Diana in Blackest Night: Wonder Woman #3:

“Extraordinary. All of them, in their way, have tried to explain it to me before. Hal, John, Kyle… even Guy, may Ares watch and aid him. But it defies all attempts. There is no way to describe it. What it is to wear a power ring, and feel emotion made manifest. To wear fear on anger or will or hope on one’s hand… To wear love. Too beautiful for words…”

There’s a lot about Wondy’s Blackest Night tie-in that’s flawed and frustrating and flat-out bad, but this page gets it right. If you’re going to make Diana a Star Sapphire — going to give one of the most loving hearts of the DCU the power to channel her love into tangible power — then you need to acknowledge the weight of that.

In this comic, it’s as insubstantial as a costume change.

Flying up to confront Kratakoa, Diana wonders if she could really have summoned the Dark Gods. Supergirl said she brought them into this plane with a careless wish, and… oh, come to think of it, she did inadvertently make a wish during the recent Dark Nights: Metal crossover, while coincidentally handling some magical wishing metal. But nah, that couldn’t possibly have done it!

She reaches the big floaty statue and a bloke with spiky wings emerges from it. It’s Klangalang, and he’s got his monologue cued up and ready to go!

He opens with a fairly standard ‘ahaha, I’ve been expecting you, hero!’, and the implications fly straight over Diana’s head.

Kibble: You came, Amazon! Sooner than I expected, too! Good… I’m going to love this! Diana: You’re some kind of seer, too? You expected me?

Let’s review: The villains Diana supposedly summoned, the villains who have been trying to kill or neutralise Diana before she can interfere in their plans, have attacked the Star Sapphires in advance of their invasion of Earth. Despite not knowing about Diana’s connection to their attacker, the Sapphires reached out to her for help, teleporting her away at almost the exact moment that the villains launched their opening assault. Now the one villain who hasn’t joined the invading force is cackling that he’s been expecting Diana.

Even a half-competent hero should be able to join the dots and realise they’ve been deliberately lured away. Not so Robinson’s Diana, who gazes at him wide-eyed and demands, ‘omg, u expected me? are u psychic or sumthin???’

After a couple more rounds of obscenely dense questions from Diana (along with another out-of-character ’crazy’ slur), Klunk ends up having to straight-up spell it out for her. He also explains how she summoned the Dark Gods.

Krunch: You wished for the gods’ return. Well, here we are. Here I am! Diana: Like a dream, but yes, of course. But I meant the Greek pantheon, not— Krump: Gods! That’s all you said.

Small nitpick: Diana would not think of her gods the “Greek pantheon”. She’d be more likely to call them “the Patrons”, “my gods”, “the gods of my people”, “the gods of Themyscira”, “the gods of Olympus”, “the Olympians” — she knew them as all of these things long before she knew Greece, or any world outside her island home, existed. The only reason she might refer to them as “Greek” is for the benefit of people in Man’s World, as a point of reference.

More importantly, are you friggin kidding me, the friggin layers of incompetence here from our supposed hero

accidentally makes a wish while wielding a weapon of magical wishing metal

manages to make the vaguest wish possible, opening a loophole for THE WORST GODS to infiltrate reality

immediately forgets she ever wished it

why would she even wish for that?! her gods haven’t gone anywhere!

To be somewhat fair, the reason she doesn’t really remember it is that “the God With No Name” (YES REALLY) made it all feel like a dream so that she wouldn’t realise she’d made an irresponsible wish and needed to immediately rally everybody together to resist the Dark Gods.

Except… that in itself doesn’t make any sense.

There are two possibilities here: the Horse With No Name could have clouded Diana’s memory of making the wish after the Dark Gods were pulled into this reality — in which case, why? How would she even land on the conclusion that she’d accidentally summoned some evil gods that she’d never heard of, when her intent was to call on her own gods and she’d had no indication that it had even worked?

Alternatively, he clouded her mind in the moment of the wish, to render her thoughts vague and imprecise and open the door for the Dark Gods’ invasion. Which doesn’t work either, because it turns out that the Dark Gods are pretty pissed off at being pulled out of their awesome reality.

King Koopa: War was declared the moment you dragged us from our home… our beautiful world — which you regard as the ‘Dark Multiverse’ — we see as a paradise… where we were more than even gods to our worshippers… we were everything!”

So basically their plan is to turn Earth into a desolate hellscape just like their home.

Diana, who has already been told that Kraig is a god of corrupted love, conveniently forgets this fact just so that Robinson can tell it to us again.

Diana: You call yourself a god of love. What kind of love wants to be feared? Love is unconditional. KHAAAAAN: Spoken like the addled naive romantic I expected. Love always comes with conditions. Sometimes, I confess, I question… am I god of that love, of those conditions behind it? But then I realise… I don’t care.

Cool story. Glad we can agree on one thing, at least.

He monologues for a couple of pages about how he’s going to open her eyes to the truth of how horrible and selfish and corrupt love is, then draws Diana into his mind so that he can monologue some more.

We learn that the world of the Dark Gods was forged by a group of divinities called Titans, “much like the reality of your own Greek pantheon” (incorrect, you’re thinking of the Protogenoi; the Titans were the second generation of gods). But because these Titans were hardcore, they did it by smashing five other realities together. And into this terrifyingly dark edgy metalscape came… +~teh D4rK g0dz~+

Robinson then undermines the super-extra-double-dark feel he’s going for with another embarrassing name and an accidental rhyme.

“We Dark Gods followed, as gods do. King Best and then the rest.”

KING. BEST.

But wait, we haven’t even gotten to Kalamazoo’s dark edgy totally original backstory!

In fact, this is so dark and edgy and original that I’ll throw in a quick content warning here for descriptions of domestic violence and shittiness towards sex workers.

“You’ll meet a boy — his mother broken by a wanton father who forced her to cheapen herself further with wraiths and under-beings. The mother died — beaten to death. When he saw her blood still dripping from the fists of his father, the boy ran, fearing the same fate. The boy loved his mother, but hated his father and the world. Both emotions — love and hate — burned so brightly that even from within the darkness of our world, their glow caught the eye of mighty King Best.”

Domestic violence! Sexism! Slut shaming! Fridging! It’s like a game of grimdark bingo!

After three goddamn pages of this, Diana suddenly twigs what we all figured out eleven pages ago, ‘oh now waaaaaait a minute, you didn’t lure me here so that your buddies could invade Earth while I’m distracted, did you?’

Klinger responds by almost murdering Diana, and is only stopped by the intervention of the Star Sapphires.  They all retreat, and Diana proposes a new plan: all the Sapphires will channel their energy into her, something something, true love wins the day.

So Diana flies up to Kimberley, sword held aloft and blazing with violet energy, and announces, ‘boy did you make a mistake when you told me that you used to be a sad boy child! now I have only love in my heart for you!’

Karma Khameleon is like, ‘oh no, love! my one true weakness!’, and I’m like, “d… didn’t we just have this story?”

Then Diana straight-up stabs him with her love sword, and Korgo fades away with an ‘I’ll beat you next time, Captain Planet! Next tiiiiiime…’

Diana farewells the Star Sapphires, and Robinson shoehorns in this bit of virtue signalling:

Miri: Please… Diana, think of us as your sisters, too, for all time. Diana: Or “brother,” I notice. Miss Bloss: Love is love, no matter who bears the heart.

This is a welcome and needed change to the Star Sapphires. The fact that they have been portrayed up until this point as an all-women corps (with the exception of a few briefly deputised blokes) is bound up in ugly gendered ideas, exemplified by Geoff Johns’ comment in 2009 that “anyone can join, but most men are not worthy”.

But there’s something gratingly self-congratulatory in the execution of this course correction.  Robinson’s doing the absolute bare minimum here — including one or two male background characters in a handful of panels — and flagging it as progress with a phrase associated with the LGBTI community.  We haven’t even seen a single named male Sapphire, let alone one with a speaking part; I think it’s a little premature to be looking for kudos. And either Miri or Miss Bloss could very easily have been replaced in this story by a new male character.

The Sapphires teleport Diana back to Earth, where she finds DC a smoking ruin. And as the air clears, she sees—

—wait for it—

—this is truly shocking and terrifying—

THE DARK GODS MADE A MEGAZORD

THEY MADE A FUCKING MEGAZORD WITH THEIR DUMBASS FLYING STATUES

A GODDAMN MEGAZORD WHO WHAT HOW WHY.

Diana’s face does this:

#the james robinson shitshow #comics talk

[pinksweatergettingbetter]

warning, the following has mainly snarky (and possibly furious) opinions on Spirit of Justice. Reader discretion is advised.

Okay folks. this is it. part 1 of the final chapter

here we go.

-

trial day 2?? oh yeah i forgot they split this game up in the worst, uneven way possible 

-

wow that cutscene was

something alright

-

wow datz actually managed to hold onto the snow globe. kudos?

-

what the fuck

i think i heard it wrong but Dhurke’s objection sounds like an old man 

I'm pretty sure i heard it wrong 

missed the bass

-

who was that no– oh Garananana

i guess she's gonna be the final boss instead huh

- 

im so tired i cant even snark properly 

-

“is that kosher?”

i like it

-

oh god

what.... what is she wearing 

i mean

fuckin

TALK about madonna-whore complex. oh yeah, time to turn super evil?? bear your midriff! show off dem tiddies! 

look, SOJ. theres only one bad bitch in ace attorney who can pull off floaty tendril hair, and its NOT ga’ran.

i cant believe i have to look at this train wreck for the rest of the trial

-

“heh heh heh. its all coming back now. the feel of my blood pumping through my veins”

this is perhaps because youre actually moving now, your eminence.

-

can we just dispense with the trial and have a good old fashioned anime fight? cmon apollo, spike up that hair and grab your BFS. 

-

“meep”

WHATS WITH THE MEEPING

BONNY DID THAT TOO

SOJ ITS 2016 ...ACTUALLY ITS 2028 YOU HOLES

-

everyone in the court: :O what??? whats wrong with rayfa??? why is she sad???

oh i dunno maybe because her fucking Father just got brutally murdered?? maybe??

what the fuck is up with SOJ characters being dumb as a bag of bricks when it comes to other peoples’ feelings regarding death of loved ones???

-

phoenix: shits fucked, thats why?? apollo: OHHHHHHHHHHHHH

-

“seems like she's worse off today than she was yesterday”

hey game you'd better not be implying any shit 

-

“discipline”

soj

-

alright, back after another longass break. i can do this.

( That’s oddly compassionate of him, all things considered )

I was about to defend Nahyuta because what kind of person wouldn’t try to spare a child from witnessing that kind of trauma... but then again, this is the Sadmad who purposefully tried to trigger someone into losing a trial so

(shrug emoji)

-

grana’s gone into full HORHORHOR BITCH MODE 

partially I'm totally numb because i dont have any stakes in her newfound ebilness, and partially I'm tired of this weird new trend of child abuse in the new games 

- 

“Barbed head.”

oh my god 

the first person she goes to after realizing that her caretaker is gone is fucking Phoenix 

im gonna cry 

“ive been reduced to “royal robe remover”” NO NICK YOU’VE BEEN UPGRADED TO DAD BY SOMEONE WHO’S NOT YOU

( ‘It’s like she’s grooming Mr. Wright to be Nayna’s replacement’) 

I know this game is all about confusing bullshit for heartwarming moments and vice versa but guys 

good lord

my heart

i really needed that 

-

(sigh) they really couldn’t get someone who sounded like a fucking 14 year old to do her voice?? really???

-

rayfa: (looks like she's going to die and collapses)

apollo: this is not good...

gee apollo you really think so? 

-

wait a fuking second 

we went through the whole dance cutscene and we’re not even going to see the pool??? does that mean the priestess has to be conscious and present for the images to be visible? ...and how does that work, anyway? 

i just realized, a medium could use a pool to see the dead, but how the hell could they project it for others to see?? does she literally open a portal to hell???

(sigh) i just regret sitting through that cutscene again

-

“cabal of traitorous lawyers”

i love that

-

(Seriously Dhurke? This is no laughing matter.)

this basically sums up Dhurke’s entire personality 

...yknow, i know what they were trying to do with his character– i really do. i know he’s supposed to come off as a dashing, cavalier rebel who laughs in the face of danger. 

but they overshot endearingly irreverent and ploughed straight into fuckwaddome. if you want a character to be charming, they need softer moments too. Dhurke isn’t a bad person, but he’s kind of an asshole when you get right down to it, and nothing so far is proving otherwise. 

-

ok ive heard Dhurke’s Objection again and it doesn't sound like an old man– it just sounds about as overblown and ridiculous as Manfred von Karma’s (not to mention about as deep)

-

LET DHURKE SAY BITCH

... i guess

-

another perfect example of Dhurke being kind of a fuckwad: he keeps needling the queen and baiting her in ways that could get himself killed, which would be all fine and dandy if he were the brave resistance leader being tortured for information in the bowels of a dungeon.

...but here’s the thing.

IF YOU DIE, DHURKE, APOLLO AND PHOENIX DIE TOO. DID YOU FORGET ABOUT THE GODDAMN DC ACT? ITS NOT JUST YOUR DEAD ASS ON THE LINE HERE SO SHUT YOUR SASSY TRAP AND THINK ABOUT SOMETHING OTHER THAN YOUR *AMAZING WIT* FOR ONCE.

you’ve got 2 extra lives on the line here.

...3 if my suspicions are correct.

-

stop calling him son please you abandoned him in an orphanage and didnt contact him for 14 years.

...and if he can’t call you ‘dad’ you have no right to call him ‘son’

-

coming back to this after ghost trick has convinced me that one of ga’ran’s lackeys miiiiiight be related to Cabanela, baby

-

“Wright... I can see we are kindred spirits, you and I! Hah-ha ha ha ha ha!!”

NO

NO 

NO

NO

FUCK YOU DHURKE 

-

“It’s pretty easy to spot the difference between a soulless man and the soulless shell of a man”

ok that did get a laugh out of me, good job dhurke.

-

apollo: pls dont get us killed dhurke: mmmm ok ill try but I'm not promising anything lol

://///

-

“But remember, son, if you truly believe in me, you should be able to prove my innocence.”

do i even have to list how many reasons thats wrong and a shitty thing to say

-

“Such Insolence”

You’ve been beat out, Not So Fast

-

Ga’ran used Gust!

Apollo flinched and couldn’t move!

-

“I could behead you at any time”

she's got a point; she’s a fucking despot, there’s no reason to actually hold a trial. i mean i guess she wants to shut up the rebels but just killing them would be a lot easier and its not like she has any qualms about murder

-

“Aw shoot, ya got me.”

again, not an appropriate reaction for whats going on buddy

-

lol get fucked kjudge

-

DGFUFUS OH COOL

WE GOT GUILTY (excited cheers from the audience)

the applause and the shots of everyone with :O faces is making me feel like i just won a gameshow 

wheres my cheesy jingle 

-

also i love how Dhurke’s like “oh shit!! my assholishness has directly resulted in my son’s death!!! did NOT see that coming!!!!!!!!!”

-

again the sound mixing is drowning out the background music (sigh)

-

“your benevolence? I’d be happy to lend an ear if you’d like to talk!”

>this is it, this is why he leaves the series guys. Apollo is too good for these sinful games.

-

DAMNIT DHURKE, YOUR SHIT MOUTH IS RUBBING OFF ON YOUR SON

-

hmm

we’ve got an april may here

-

“Rayfa, I shall buy you a new servant”

so Kooraheen practices slavery..? I mean, she.... she said ‘buy’, not hire.

-

“she would have left shoeprints”

do

do you know what evaporation is your malevolence 

-

wait wait wait

that doesn't make any sense 

the only prints leading out are from Inga, but the prints inside the building are from Nayna? how did she avoid leaving prints leading inside, then?? did she just long-jump over the dirt path???

-

the guards are not fanboying, apollo, they’re toadying. there’s a difference.

-

apollo: maybe the place he was stabbed and the place he died were different 

(the game only continues after you carefully explain what dying of blood loss is three years later)

-

to be completely fair, there are actually stories of people who were unaware of being stabbed 

furthermore, when you get stabbed, you’re not going to be the most rational human being on earth. 

phoenix, don’t give sadmad that point, especially when he’s currently assaulting your protege 

now, as i was saying, Apollo’s suggestion that Inga was stabbed in the back and then ran into the temple is perfectly plausible; running to shelter from an attacker is probably the first thing you’d want to do when injured, and the tomb was a pretty safe place, i’d wager. 

tbh i really don’t know why they’re arguing about him feeling the pain as that wouldn’t really impair his movement considering he was stabbed in a place that wouldn’t affect his ability to walk???

but yeah apparently he was doped up to shit so 

-

...i highly doubt back pain medication is strong enough to negate a stab wound. on the other hand, if it is and your back pain is THAT intense, Inga, you need to see a fucking doctor pronto.

...yeah shots straight into the spine is one step away from surgery; not to be an asshole but I'm not sure Inga was doing so well anyway before he went 

-

huh. are they really gonna give us an actual choosable choice to abandon Dhurke and save our own skin? Cause that would be interesting; a lot like the old games where you could “”choose”” to defend a client or not.

to be clear here, though, i wouldn't choose “no” even as much as i dislike dhurke. we know (sigh) that he’s innocent, and even if i dont like him it’s our duty to defend his shitty ass

OH HOLY FUCK

THERES THE CHOICE

wow. y’know SOJ, i dont much like you, but you fuckin Did That. well done.

also thank you for the Justice pun it is much appreciated.

-

“And while I can’t say I’m used to it, this isn’t exactly my first rodeo”

FWHAT

>game flashes back to the Ahlbi case

DSKJFLS THIS IS LITERALLY THE “at second rodeo: this isn't my first rodeo” POST

-

YES OK WE’VE SEEN THIS CUTSCENE TWICE NOW ALREADY

WE GET IT, RAYFAS GOT COLD FEET ABOUT BEING QUEEN

MAYAS IN THE GAME 

OK

-

phoenix: allow me to mansplain how rayfa is feeling despite how fucking obvious it is. after all, we know our players have the mental and emotional capacity of goldfish!

oh hey mansplain is a legit word in the dictionary 

cool!

-

why are they building this up?? just fucking tell Rayfa to do her stupid dance again and get on with it; we already did this at the beginning of the trial 

-

“Hmm... Indeed. It would be problematic.”

ohohoooohohohhhihgjhgo

-

oh her nails are actually tiny pen 

thats neat 

thank goodness Kooraheeneese is an up-and-down written language– otherwise they’d have to make a whole new animation for the english game teehee

-

“....................But... Horn Head needs my help”

oh my heart

-

dan she just straight up begone’d her 

-

see the one thing that falls flat here is that, during a regular trial, the prosecution saying “oh, ok, have it your way; you can try to prove your theory” holds up a little more since they... you know. don’t have absolute power.

where as, with Garananana, its more like she's just a huge posturing pushover. especially since every other minute she's saying “ok, I'm gonna kill you for REAL now.”

-

rayfa: b but if i fail you'll be killed!!! i dont get it...

apollo: i literally just finished explaining that I'm 100% ready to die for my shitty job that was like 5 minutes ago

it is sweet to see that he’s cheering her on though. good big bro 

-

I'm finding small solace in this beautiful moment of “your foreign dad and bro are here for you babe reach for the stars”

Athena’s probably flashing a double thumbs up from the gallery too

-

“But... I finally know now. I know in what I can trust”

Bobby, from the afterlife: YOU’RE DOING AMAZING SWEETIE 

-

Garan: What??? my tiny 14 year old daughter is going to do a thing i don’t want her to??? fuck there’s no way i can shut her up. not even with all of my large adult man guards who could easily just escort her out of the courtroom without any resistance because they’re my fucking royal guards and I'm the Queen

-

oh shit she took off her own cape

im so glad i muted the game so her awful voice actress couldn’t ruin this cool moment

-

and now as this long ass cutscene plays out again, i simply cannot help but wonder about the poor choir and how long they’ve been on standby 

where do they keep the choir during trials 

whats it like singing the dance of devotion song every trial 

-

oh finally here we go. alright, lets see what the magic party pool has in store for us this time 

...o ...ok then

-

OH! OH SHIT 

Inga’s face blind?!

Y’know I did have a few thoughts about that when we discovered his notebook but I didn’t think they’d actually go that route... though, thinking about it now, it is pretty convenient.

...ok everyone’s freaking out. maybe they’ve never heard of face-blindness? ...or maybe its not face blindness after all

im pretty sure it is though

-

i dont know why but everyone being like FUCK ITS GOD and phoenix being like “whoops shits trippy now” made me laugh pretty hard

-

ok i gotta say I'm actually a little invested now, even if its just because i think face-blindness is an interesting thing to incorporate into a murder case. again, a convenient thing, but an interesting thing all the same.

-

ahh fuck i keep forgetting how the stupid seance works 

welp, there goes one of my souls... (sigh)

-

..apollo you dont need to show her the picture of her dead father to say “he had a cell phone”.

-

the voice was coming from INSIDE THE PHONE 

-

RAYFA HAS A PET FROG????

WHAT

SHOW US THE FROG SOJ

SHOW US THE FROG! SHOW US THE FROG! SHOW US THE FROG! 

-

...why would Rayfa interpret the sound of the warbaa’d (something she’s familiar with) with a lion’s roar (something she’s unfamiliar with) ??

-

oh i see thats why Vore Machine is an idiot 

for plot convenience 

-

Datz Are’bal, a man who throws fire crackers at children.

...sounds like an are’bal guy.

bahdum-tshh

-

“The joker who got a kick out of startling Ahlbi with his Dragon Snot Snaps”

...something tells me that if Datz found out about Youtube, he’d be one of those “””prank””” channels.

also WHY ARE THEY CALLED SNOT SNAPS

WHAT DOES THAT MEAN

-

“happy-go-lucky”

i think you mean vaguely sociopathic

-

(sigh) ive finally been worn down to the point where i need a walkthrough. ive... been beaten...

-

boy ahlbi’s just a font of knowledge isn't he 

-

DID SHE JUST BREAK HER NAILS OFF

PLEASE SAY THOSE WERE STICK ONS

HOL SHIT

-

MMMM LAY IT ON ME NICK

face blindness 

... i mean theyre not calling it that but thats what it is 

-

yeah yeah channeling blah blah come on! youre in the LAND of channeling !

-

shduhjahdjk

I'm picturing Inga running into his own dead body and flipping his shit 

-

oh man. thats the end of Trail 2 part 1.

guess i’ll see you guys on the other side... heheh. 

#soj spoilers #sulking over SOJ #ooc #its a LONG one]

[fourfifthsfromfame]

End of Year Questionnaire

What did you do in 2017 that you’d never done before? Paris, Notting Hill Carnival, and the traditional Nigerian wedding.

Did you keep your new years’ resolutions, and will you make more for next year? I think that my resolution was to care less about people, but it wasn’t successful. Next year, I’m going to try to be kinder, and consider that people’s behaviour isn’t always a reflection on me or something I’ve done. But at the same time, I also don’t want to allow people to take the piss.

Did anyone close to you give birth? Nope, but I somehow ended up at like three baby showers in as many weekends.

Did anyone close to you die? No, this November was very death-free for a change.

What countries did you visit? France, and Scotland if we’re going to stretch it.

What would you like to have in 2018 that you lacked in 2017? A relationship would be lovely. I think that I’m just about over my fear of all of them being terrible, and I’m ready to go through it all over again and for my worries to be reconfirmed.

What date from 2017 will remain etched upon your memory, and why? The 10th of March (the day that I got my job offer), and the day before. Because I went through just about every possible emotion in under twenty-four hours.

What was your biggest achievement of the year? I know that it’s not much, but running Race for Life in memory of my auntie. I raised a lot of money, ran 5K without bitching about it, and it was the first time that I’d felt strong for a very long time.

What was your biggest failure? Measuring my self worth on shitty relationships.

Did you suffer illness or injury? I've been ill on some level since 2010. The worst this year was the two-month chest infection, which wreaked havoc with my asthma.

What was the best thing you bought? The flight to Bristol. I think that my mate really appreciated it.

Whose behaviour merited celebration? My mother. She really does love me unconditionally.

Whose behaviour made you appalled and depressed? I despised everyone else equally.

Where did most of your money go? Food, wine, and weekends away.

What did you get really, really, really excited about? The work night out last month, but it ended up being bang average.

What song(s) will always remind you of 2017? Shape of You, Finesse, Despacito, How Long, On My Mind, Man’s Not Hot.

Compared to this time last year, are you: Happier or sadder? Happier. Thinner or fatter? Fatter. Richer or poorer? Waaay poorer, I’m just not acting it.

What do you wish you’d done more of? Salsa. It’s several of my fears combined into one which is why I struggle to get along, but I do always enjoy myself when I’m there.

What do you wish you’d done less of? Investing time and energy into people who couldn’t give a shit about me.

How did you spend Christmas? This year was weird. My brothers aren’t here until the 28th, so we’ve delayed our proper Christmas until then. On Christmas Eve, I went to McDonalds with my mates (tradition), and then I went back to Heaton, where my American housemate was hosting a piss up for everyone who couldn’t be with their families. And on Christmas Day, I drifted in and out of sleep all day, and my housemate made breakfast at 4pm. Very unconventional and I missed my brothers, but I loved Christmas this year.

How will you be spending New Year’s? Either at a Heaton housie, or in bed. Last year was the first New Year’s Eve that I enjoyed from start to finish, but I’m worried that I’ll ruin the one-year streak if I try to replicate it.

Did you fall in love in 2017? Nope.

How many one-night stands? None. A very sharp 180 in comparison to 2016.

What was your favourite TV program? Love Island. Utter garbage, but it was the most invested that I’ve ever been in a show. The craic was class too because absolutely everyone was watching it.

Do you hate anyone now that you didn’t hate this time last year? Someone who I once valued really disappointed me this year, but I don’t think that I hate them.

What was the best book you read? I can’t remember if Ready Player One was this year or last year, but it ruled.

What was your greatest musical discovery? Charlie Puth. He's been around for some time, but he really upped his game in 2017.

What did you want and get? A better job, and a house where everyone knows and likes each other.

What did you want and not get? A relationship. But to be fair, I didn’t really try.

What was your favourite film of this year? Thor: Ragnarok. Very closely followed by Jumanji, and Wonder Woman, which restored my faith in DC films.

What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you? On my actual birthday, I got a massage and dicked about in Bristol, but over my birthday period (which lasted for a good three weeks), I went for cocktails, unlimited prosecco, and had a banging house party. I turned twenty-six.

What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying? More money.

How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2017? Deceptively classy. I wear a lot of floaty dresses because they’re comfortable, but I get lots of compliments, despite putting no effort at all into my appearance.

What kept you sane? My mum. Sooo many teary phone calls, the woman needs a medal.

Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most? Can I say Charlie Puth, but for his voice alone?

What political issues stirred you the most? Not so much politics, but how America is still bafflingly unable to correlate gun crime with people being allowed to have guns.

Who did you miss? I kind of miss Zoe, one of my former colleagues who was actually nice. We keep doing that thing where we say: “let’s catch up soon”! But it’s clear that we’re never going to see each other, ever again.

Who was the best new person you met? Gerry. Literally the coolest person I’ve ever met.

Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2017: That just because you’ve known someone for a long time, it doesn’t make them a good friend, or even a good person.

Quote a song lyric that sums up your year: Stay woke.

#2017 questionnaire #2017 quiz #end of year quiz #me #2017

[tecinfo]

Prepared Player One's film adjustment isn't even sufficient as a children motion picture Everything here—character advancement, CGI, nerd cred references—frustrates.

The film adjustment of Ready Player One exposes its broken, frustrating geek heart superior to anything any negative survey could.

The telling minute happens almost part of the way through the teenager experience frolic, when improbable, unbalanced saint Wade Watts starts winning a noteworthy challenge inside the modern film's virtual-reality universe (reflecting an indistinguishable plot from its namesake book). A wickedness corporate overlord named Nolan Sorrento swoops in with plans on selecting Wade, and to do this, he spreads out enticing nerd iverse offers (like a Millennium Falcon to use in the film's "Desert spring" VR world) and exchanges blows in a geek random data trade around '80s movies. At the same time, a flunky bolsters geeky tidbits into Sorrento's ear with the goal that he sounds genuine.

Swim calls BS on this rattling of geek qualifications and reminds Sorrento that a genuine enthusiast of the Oasis wouldn't attempt to win its control-influencing challenge with random data alone. Sorrento's reaction, after being gotten out, is to lash out with silly viciousness.

Taking care of business, Ready Player One's uneven, unsurprising, and empty characteristics can be composed off in the administration of "a flawlessly fine children's motion picture." But the film's makers hinder the entire thing by pulling a Sorrento at all times—coming up short—to compensate for an absence of heart with grandiloquence and quirky appearances.

Unholy vessel

RP1 takes after its book motivations in free, unmistakable form. Characters and the general plot circular segment continue as before, while the correct execution and occasions fluctuate fiercely. Which means: despite everything we're following Wade (played by Tye Sheridan of X-Men: Apocalypse and The Tree of Life), whose virtual-world handle is Parzival, he's as yet joined by a similar pack of both virtual-and certifiable companions in endeavoring to recoup a "brilliant Easter egg" inside the fiercely well known Oasis VR benefit.

The chase for this egg starts for a similar reason, also: in light of the fact that Oasis co-maker James Halliday (played here by Mark Rylance) passed away, in actuality, along these lines commencing a sentimentality filled VR Wonka frolic. The Oasis has turned into the world's greatest wellspring of stimulation in the year 2045, and Halliday's passing sets a millions-in number challenge into movement. Finish '80s-themed challenges in VR, while remembering secretive signs, and you can guarantee the egg, which will transform you into the Oasis' next proprietor and administrator. (The previously mentioned miscreant, played by Ben Mendelsohn of Rogue One, embarks to animal power his way into winning the challenge and transforming the Oasis into a Facebook-like barf of advertisements and nosy substance.)

A portion of the contrasts between the exposition and the photos rely on sheer permitting issues. Try not to hope to see a portion of the book's greatest scenes, similar to a VR playthrough of Pac-Man or the "flicksync" minutes where Wade and companions bounce into VR adaptations of movies like Wargames and Monty Python and the Holy Grail. Rather, the Oasis' madness commences with a boisterous and-quick auto race, and the film's solitary bonafide flicksync is a jump into Stephen King's The Shining.

Before jumping into why these substance switches are hazardous, there's another, additionally harming contrast to represent: the film team's lack of engagement in making sympathetic characters. Not at all like in the book, Wade doesn't collaborate with genuine companions, have protracted discussions with his VR buddies, blunder impartially through school, have noteworthy family associations, or show us anything in the method for advantages or identity. The film's Wade is a definitive white-sheet of a hero, and he spends the greater part of the film lashed into a VR headset.

The film's hyper pixie virtualgirl Art3mis (Olivia Cooke) has greater identity as a matter of course, which isn't stating much. She's an individual from an obstruction compel, completely mindful of the shades of malice that Nolan Sorrento's organization submits, and she needs exact retribution, however we take in this in a wide-looked at, two-sentence yell. Something else, Art3mis for the most part exists to stand out enough to be noticed—she in the long run begins to look all starry eyed at him, unconvincingly—and to delight in disposable '80s-being a fan references. (They both like Buckaroo Banzai. That kind of thing.)

Executive Steven Spielberg and friends obviously adore '80s adolescent movies, and it appears with the style and speed of its clever replies. In light of that, in any case, RP1 acts like Ferris Bueller's best scenes were the joyrides in Cameron's father's Ferrari and Ferris' frantic dash home toward the end. Holding and character improvement have been rejected on the whole to prepare for activity arrangements.

A profound fissure in the uncanny valley

More awful, in all honesty, the activity scenes suck.

About each scene in RP1 happens inside the Oasis, and these scenes, nearly without come up short, are rendered in distractingly floaty CGI. At the film's start, this nearly appears to be deliberate, as though to clarify to watchers that the Oasis is a phony, virtual place. However, that is little reassurance for the visual effect. The opening succession I said, about a hyper auto race, at last feels empty on account of its silly material science demonstrate. Swim auto-mysteriously controls his approach to close achievement, and at no time does it ever resemble the scene has stakes.

We likewise watch Parzival and Art3mis begin to look all starry eyed at inside VR, and their symbols, finish with off-set eyes and floaty livelinesss, live in an entirely profound cleft of the uncanny valley. (The main thing more regrettable than this is Spielberg's choice to reshape a colossal point in the book: that Art3mis' genuine partner is unbecoming, and that Wade defeats that shallow issue because of their VR-world holding. Cooke is no place close to the "Rubenesque" individual that Cline composed into RP1, and Wade's eagerness to "neglect" Art3mis' slight facial checking is sufficiently offensive to influence me to prevent participation for any young ladies.)

There's additionally that minute in which characters reproduce The Shining inside the Oasis, which painfully emerges for two reasons. In the first place, it is the film's uncommon snapshot of joining handy, genuine impacts with VR symbols in fulfilling style. As Wade and his VR companions run and dash and monstrosity out inside the genuine Stanley Hotel, the film becomes animated—particularly as the film's best character, Aech (Lena Waithe), uncovers a great deal of comical identity qualities. It's hard not to contrast this with whatever is left of the CGI-filled Oasis scenes—or more terrible, the appallingly shabby looking soundstage sets that RP1's performing artists every so often stand, run, or drive through—and think about the amount more grounded this film may have felt if a greater amount of the monetary allowance were spent on areas.

The other issue with this scene is that it tonally looks bad inside character James Halliday's sentimentality plunge of a VR world. No place in either the book or film does he set up himself as a blood and gore movie expert, and regardless of whether he were, he's plainly more inspired by characteristically "nerdy" passage. (I'd have expected, say, the cheesy jokes and bleeding Technicolor of Nightmare on Elm Street.)

I call attention to out not to state that I required Freddy Krueger to appreciate the film however to grumble about RP1's perpetual dump of popular culture references... which have little association with the particular wistfulness window that Cline opened up in the book. It doesn't take long to come to an obvious conclusion of which characters do (and don't) show up and arrive at the conclusion that Spielberg and co. simply don't get it. A huge amount of current establishments (Borderlands, Halo, Overwatch) blend with the '90s preferences of Mortal Kombat, Hello Kitty, and Spawn, alongside a genuine weight on establishments that the film studio Warner Bros. has the licenses to (especially DC Comics superheroes).

The most blatant guilty party in such manner is RP1's noisy utilization of The Iron Giant, a WB-created film from 1999 whose focal automated character fortified truly with its child legend. Spielberg's film lets one of its legends bounce into that Iron Giant mech suit, however the subsequent scene is a blast filled activity frolic in which he pummels quick into other marked, super-sized animals. The Iron Giant is diminished to a good for nothing activity figure—which runs in opposition to the arrangement's focal subject of taking advantage of the genuine goal of nerd culture's greatest makers.

One? More like None

RP1's last stretch is an especially tiring trudge where all rationale and importance leave arrange left. For what reason do Wade and his VR companions need to meet in a similar city for this succession, where they're inevitably focused by Sorrento's associates? Why some puzzling rationale drives the great folks or terrible folks into the lead position in this last fight at regular intervals? For what reason does Spielberg indicate a great many Wade's fans moronically kicking around, in actuality, with headsets on, in this manner influencing this Google To glass like future look especially senseless and therefore not worth putting resources into? Furthermore, who really purchases the climactic minute in which the callous Sorrento abruptly grows a Grinch-like heart?

It's every one of the a disgrace, on the grounds that there's absolutely a fair, watchable film covered in this heap of nerd appearances and geek cred shoutouts. Each on-screen character on offer is strong at executing on Spielberg's heading (which, in a couple of characters' cases, is excruciatingly hammy, however I get his '80s purposes behind going that course), and despite the fact that I was never a gigantic fanatic of the book, I've generally trusted it's both a fine read for kids and an ethically solid format for a nerd family film. I could see this activity substantial film being sufficiently fine after a blend of altering and identity building reshoots. Clean up the enlarged activity scenes; let Wade and companions bond in Goonies-or Bueller-like form; offer maybe a couple more scenes in which these adolescents really play with more seasoned establishments for the sake of entertainment ways and hence interface the retro substance to somewhat more mankind.