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tfw you actually get brisela on the battlefield

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I can appreciate that someone, somewhere looked at a chart and said, "Engagement with Dungeon Meshi has finally dipped below the threshold. Drop It."

And is now giving everyone a renaissance of thirsty yuri fanart. Honestly, Game Recognize Game.

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Water types, my fav ☺️

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embarrassing: this girl thought that glory and honor were real things and has only now realized that her death will be nothing but feeding a meaningless meatgrinder

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MORPHEUS IN WIGAN: you think that's gravy you're eating

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“I fear I have run out of worthy opponents.”

“Opponents for…fighting, I assume, Mirai?”

The samurai in question bristled at having her monologue interrupted. She pivoted away from her defeated enemies to face the speaker - a diminutive akki stomping toward the fallen foes.

“Keni-Keni,” Mirai growled. “Yes, nothing but. Here to scavenge from my kills, as per usual, I presume?”

“You know me too well!”

The goblin laughed as he approached the bodies, and began stripping them of their armor and weapons. Meanwhile Mirai turned away in disgust, still muttering to herself under her breath:

“They attacked me. I defended myself. Seems to be all I’m good for nowadays: self-defense. What a miserable thing to master.”

“Well, why not master a different craft instead?”

Mirai jumped at Keni-Keni’s suggestion, spoken right behind her. She managed to resist the urge to draw her blade, instead settling for an angry growl as she wheeled around to face the smith.

“I don’t recall asking you.”

“Well, just, you know, if you’re miserable?”

“I’m a killer. And that’s all…well, not all I want, but it’s all I’ve ever trained for. What else would I be good for?”

“These ‘lone wanderer’ types, I swear.” Keni-Keni shook his head. “Well, what do you want to do? You just said…?”

“While I detest your method of acquiring raw material, I have always…appreciated your craft.”

“Mirai…was that a-”

“Don’t spoil this, Keni-Keni.”

“Right. Sorry. Well, ah, I’d be more than happy to take you under my wing! Though, that does leave me wondering where my supply of metal will come from, now.”

Mirai rolled her eyes. “Oh, I’m sure you have no shortage of Reckoners or other ruffians, come to extort your business?”

“Sure.”

“Well, this doesn’t change my skill with a blade. You can get it from them.”

“Oh! Great-”

“That’ll be in lieu of payment.”

“Oh. Great…”

Mirai smirked at Keni-Keni’s change in tone.

[Headcanon: what with the modern age and all, there’s less and less demand for wandering ronin-for-hire. So, some of them have taken up day jobs and apprenticeships and such.]

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In Wigan, a false division has been socially constructed between it and gravy, despite their relative positionalities being identical

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we are so back

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neowiganism. pey wet revival

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has this joke been beaten to death yet?

Palamedes art credit is @kimabutch!!!

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Spin this wheel first and then this wheel second to generate the title of a YA fantasy novel!

(If the second wheel lands on an option ending with a plus sign, spin it again)

Share what you got!

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“Dammit…cease fire!”

The boom of cannons slowly petered out, then finally stopped altogether. When the acrid smoke cleared, the pirate captain commanding the fire was dismayed to see their target - a lone Oltec mage - completely unscathed.

“I’m sorry, Captain Parrish,” yawned the artificer, as they waved their hands to dispel a magical shield from before them, “but did you say something, just now?”

The cannoneer shook her head. “Nothing that matters. Don’t worry about it, Citlali.”

“Ah, excellent! So, is our little ‘dispute’ settled?”

“Sure is…”

Citlali’s smiled widened.

“…Maybe you lot don’t need cannons, after all,” Parrish grumbled. “Which means we’ve got nothing to trade. Unless…you’re sure you won’t take gold?”

“I’m afraid we’re more of a barter society. Unless, you’ve got any…cocoa beans?”

Parrish leveled a deadpan stare at Citlali, earning an amused giggle for her trouble.

“I figured I should ask, just in case! But yes, you are correct. It doesn’t seem like you are very rich by our metrics.”

“Right. Well, if we don’t have anything you want. And if you don’t have anything we want…”

Citlali’s eyes flicked upward.

“…I figure me and my crew should get back to High and Dry, before we all starve.”

Citlali tilted their head in puzzlement. “Starve? Is our food so disagreeable to you?”

“Huh? No. We just can’t buy any. Like you said.”

Citlali gave a boisterous laugh. “We wouldn’t let you starve. Unless…you tried again to take our possessions by force…?”

Parrish watched Citlali’s eyes flash a bright purple. She sighed, and let her hand fall from the saber on her hip. “Well. Since you’re offering.”

“How utterly gracious. Now, can I interest any of you in a tamal?”

Citlali gave a shrill whistle. On their command, a small gnome tottered into view, laden with a plate of delicious smelling food. Parrish licked her lips as she eyed the platter, her sword all but forgotten.

“Well…maybe a peaceful approach is best, sometimes.”

“A fine sentiment, friend!” Citlali laughed.

[Fun fact: at least according to a few websites, Aztecs apparently used cocoa beans as currency!]

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have an itty-bitty harrowhark

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