one thing i havent seen anyone talk about yet in dungeon meshi is how sometimes the party just fucking. forgets important info. and usually it bites them in the ass but it feels so natural and human. like yeah my ass would probably forget what namari said about senshi's pot too. and then whatever plans the party makes are always built on half-remembered info, autism sauce, luck, and a solid chunk of actual dungeoneering expertise at its core
it's actually what really makes me wonder sometimes if dunmeshi was based on an actual dnd campaign, because the goofy fuck ups just SCREAM "pack of dipshits playing dnd together and NO ONE is taking down notes"
and then ryoko ties it all together into a unique sequence of events that never perfectly resembles A) whatever the reader thinks they might do or B) whatever the party had planned in the first place and turns it and its just augh. its so good!! i wanna see what these freaks think of next!!! what fucked up shit are you guys gonna do to get out of this one!!
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No because yall... Izzy spent most of his life at sea. Hating, loving, learning, yearning. Repressing and expressing, losing himself and finding himself, accepting that his existence can be good, he can be good, and safe, at the same time. He was always the first to throw himself into needlessly dangerous situations- the ships protector. The ships unicorn. Living his life physically and emotionally getting tossed around by life changing waves and tides.
And they buried him on fucking land
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"Darling..."
They crouch in front of him, drawling his name like a melody, all sticky and sweet like honey. His back presses that much harder into the stone wall behind him.
"Do you want me to gouge your eyes out?"
The nonchalance of their delivery has his shaky lungs gasping for air.
"N-No..." — He doesn't, he doesn't, please don't.
"Then be a dear and keep those pretty things closed." — Their hand lands over his eyes, gently guiding his eyelids closed. — "Don't let me catch you sneaking a peek, okay?"
They smile still; he can feel their teeth grinning through the void enveloping him. He nods against their hand cupping his cheek as they watch him intently, swallowing down every word that claws at his throat to escape him in case they decide letting him keep his tongue should become a luxury too.
They give a couple light pats, then stand, purring, — "Good boy."
<3
Masterist
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I've been holding a General Conference watch party for the queer mormon club at my institute, and a couple of them came, but mostly I've just been gaining missionaries slowly throughout the day as they realized that a private, more fun, watch party with food and activities was happening in the building
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