>:3

I made sticker sheets for base camp and the windward plains featuring my favorite big and little guys.

Yeah Mr. Darcy’s proposal was a complete turd and a half but you gotta understand. You got your life together. A good career, stable income, retirement plan, all that shit together. And you meet this girl. And she’s everything. Clever, outspoken, funny, calls you on your bullshit. Grade A cutie, right? And she doesn’t go out of her way to spend time with you but she’s nice, and sometimes you catch her looking your way in a way that makes you think you might have a shot.

But her family. Holy shit.

First off, it’s p much ALL women, and mostly UNMARRIED women, which at this time means of something happens to her dad then you’re financially responsible for like. Four grown ass adults, potentially forever

Because mom in law is DEFINITELY gonna need someone to take care of her when dad in law kicks it, and they have like. NO money. So already you’re accepting that if all goes well, you’re gonna be one random old bag’s retirement home. That’s expensive and exhausting, yeah? Imagine asking someone on a first date knowing that if they say yes and things go good her high-strung chihuahua mother is gonna move in with you. IMAGINE.

And girly’s other sisters. Well, one is a sweetheart, yeah, and she’s getting engaged so she probably won’t be an issue, but that still leaves two more, and those ones are INSUFFERABLE. Never went to school, dumb as rocks, spend cash like it’s toilet paper

And while one of ‘em’s young still and might grow out of it the OTHER one is actively torpedo’ing her entire family’s reputation by wandering off with random dudes and chasing ass. She’s never gonna work, she can’t build connections, she’s a fucking sinkhole, and she’s being led on by the same goddamn con man ass leeching tit who’s been bleeding you dry while telling anyone who’ll listen that your family is full of ratty thieving bastards.

And if he dumps her after a week- WHICH YOU KNOW HIS BITCH ASS IS GONNA- you’ve got a SECOND UNMARRIABLE GROWN ASS ADULT TO PROVIDE FOR. And you KNOW she’s gonna be a tantrum-throwing little shit about it, and it’s not like you can lock her in the basement or something, you’re gonna have to bring her fucking. Everywhere. And give her an allowance and shit while she contributes zero, because again, she NEVER GOT EDUCATED AND HAS NO MARKETABLE SKILLS. She’s not even good to TALK to. FUCK

And you’re looking at this girl’s father like “please for the love of fuck get your spawn under control, marry them off, get them working on their résumé, learning to sew or be nursemaids or manage staff or SOMETHING, yall got no money and one foot in the grave” and that old man just laughs like “haha yeah, what can you do. lol”

So you’re looking to the mom and finally it’s making sense how she got that twitch in her eye and as MUCH as she is you’re starting to realize she’s the SMART one, desperately throwing her armloads of girls at random men like they’re a bunch of fucking lifeboats bobbing around a sinking ship, like yes Jesus Christ sweetly that life boat IS old and ugly and kind of boring but for FUCKS SAKE PICK ONE

And you look back at this girl who is ALSO REFUSING THE LIFE BOATS BY THE WAY and god damn it she’s still the most radiant thing you’ve ever seen so fine, fuck it, Christ alive, you’ll do it. You’ll shoot your shot. She’s everything you’ve ever wanted in anybody abut it’s not even just about that anymore, it’s about being her best fucking shot at a future, and even if she doesn’t like you all that much she’s still gonna say yes and that might break your heart a bit knowing it’s about the money but who knows, maybe it will at least be civil, or companionable, and even if she doesn’t LOVE you at least you’ll know she’s well and cared for

And so you’ll do it. You’ll take on the neurotic stress mess mother in law, the absent father, the broke ass wingnut no brain no money no future airhead sisters, the bad mannered relatives and the embarrassing behaviour and the impending future of sharing your entire shit with a clown parade of freeloaders, you’ll risk it all and accept the absolute certainty of financial ruin and emotional exhaustion for the rest of your whole ass life and you’ll make your own family deal with it too, you’ll do it, you’ll fucking DO IT, you stupid lovesick motherfucker

And so you go to this chick like “look. Your whole family’s a shitshow. You’ve got fucking nothing and you’re gonna die on the street. But for some reason- and I don’t get it either- I’ve fallen in love with you, and I wish I didn’t, but I did, so I’m telling you that whether you like me or not, I’ll give you everything. I’ll give you everything even if it’s the dumbest shit I ever done. Fuck my stupid Baka ass, I’ll marry you.”

And she looks at you- having heard or considered absolutely none of your months-long internal debate and monologue- and goes “The fuck did you just say about my family, you son of a bitch?”

And the shock of that is enough to jolt you back into a reality where you are able to actually hear and process what just came out of your damn mouth And yeah

Yeah, I think I kinda get it

Tornado

I want every non-Midwesterner to know that we are drilled in tornado safety from a young age and know exactly what we should do to keep ourselves safe. And yet we do exactly as pictured in the bottom image every time a tornado comes around.

Can you imagine Pirate King Elizabeth killing people on the high seas and her final words to them are ‘Say hello to my husband’

#the pirate queen kills you and you meet davy jones and he’s eagerly like ‘did elizabeth have a message for me?!’ #you flash back to your bewildered last moment #’…she said jack is teaching your son to shoot’ #‘oh god no’ says davy jones

Oskars ancient Greek curse is that every day he wakes up convinced that this time he can totally walk on the drying rack

"500 notes? Ah, the indignity... defamation of my character..."

you know he almost learned a lesson this time because it took him nearly 3 months until he once again fell victim to the sirens call of the Grey Bridge to Nowhere

I'm just imagining the muffled "THUMP" followed by meowing

It's more of a slow but relentless 'vssshhhh' accompanied by frantic scratching sound of a cat failing to climb upwards on the sinking fabric and only hastening the process, followed by a sulking silence

this is not my beautiful circus..these are not my beautiful monkeys

And you may find yourself crammed into a very small automobile...

A Lich Lord covered his head with rags and disguised himself as a cleric, then joined the heroes' party. His reasoning? He was bored and wanted to see the world without instilling fear.

There's an adventurer's code, is the thing. Not any of the official ones. Something more subtle.

You see—people who pick up this trade aren't quite normal. Normal people stay home and become the miller or the baker and raise a bunch of kids. Adventurers are almost defined by being a little different.

Like, take Lissar, our swordswoman. Big, buff, drinks a lot, what you would expect mostly. Doesn't talk about her family. Skittish about the full moons. Turns out that she got a bad spell for her gender-fixing and ended up with a nasty case of avolitional lycanthropy, which means that her girlfriend has to use a restraining collar whenever there's enough moonlight. (And no, I don't know if they do anything else with it, I have a firm policy that I don't hear anything that happens in other people's tents, even when I do. So don't ask. I also don't get the human gender thing at all. Sounds strange for a dwarf to say, but I almost think that the elves and their twelve-gender system make more sense, at least they're dividing people up based on actual traits that they have rather than vague physical generalizations that are sometimes dead wrong anyway.)

And me, I'm an absolutely normal dwarf, you think. Why would I go adventuring. Well, you may have noticed the odd-colored left eye, but you might also want to look at the things I do—the petty magics and the prestidigitation—and wonder exactly why a dwarf, scion of a decent family in a well-run cavern, would pick up what are essentially thieves skills—

And then you would want to mind your own business. Because that's the code. Everyone has some odd wrinkles in their backstory, it happens. It'll probably come out at the worst possible moment, too. But you don't pry.

So when dude shows up with a bandaged face telling us to call him Brother Healhand and using a bizarre mix of slang that spreads across the last three hundred years, if not more—we knew perfectly well that something was up, and we didn't ask.

Which works up until he ended up commanding, not turning, a full legion of the Smoke King's undead forces. That gets…hard to ignore.

"Hast thou a notion what I should do with these fuckers?" Brother Healhand asked me, sitting pensively on a rock. His bandages were disarranged enough that I could see glowing eyes, and the crystal on the end of his staff was a rather disturbing eldritch greenish purple rather than its usual soft white. I don't think I'm supposed to be able to see that color. I looked at the army of obedient zombies instead.

"Did you do the same ritual as the Smoke King?" Probably not what I should lead with.

"The blood rite of immortality?" Becoming a lich has a body count. A large one. That's why decent people don't do it. Brother Healhand looked away. "People change."

Can't argue with that. I've changed some myself.

For one thing, I'm talking to an undead rather than dying in a futile attack. That's a change. Dwarves have opinions about things that don't stay dead. (Except the Star-Jeweled King, who I think may actually be dead, but people hope he isn't—although even there, there's a kind of relief in the fact that he hasn't woken up, because that would be the Big One, the War at the End of the World, and we all know we're not all getting through that one.)

"You going to stand with us against the Smoke King?"

"Even had I not changed," Brother Healhand said promptly. "My kind are territorial and combative. And the Smoke King is just plain crass."

The enemy of my enemy is not my ally, necessarily, but he's still a guy you'd rather have around than not. So long as you keep an eye on him. "And these guys—"

"Spread the word not, I pray," Brother Healhand said, "but mindless undead have always slightly—bothered me. Nature abhors a vacuum. I feel that Things creep into the gap where the soul was. Which can lead to—unpleasantness."

And these zombies were old. "Do you think we can safely use them to fight the Smoke King's other legions?"

Brother Healhand was quiet for a moment. "I abhor the notion of being the distraction. However. Thou canst picture it, no? Another lich approaches, raises his banner, hails the Smoke King in his lair and threatens him with his own minions, telling him to come on if he thinks he's hard enough. Hardly a challenge any lich could or would ignore. Meanwhile a small team, slipping through the tunnels beneath the mountain— it could be done. Perhaps. The odds are not good but when have they ever been?"

I thought about it.

It might be the best chance we were going to get.

"No heroic last stands," I said. "You distract him and you get out of there, get it? We want to see you again when we get out."

Brother Healhand gave me a wry look. Which is difficult with eldritch glowing eyes. "I did not come to this state by loving the notion of death. I'll be there, with bells on. I would have thy promise of the same."

It occurred to me that given Brother Healhand's age—whatever it was—there might be significance in the fact that about a month ago, he switched to calling us all thou. I think most of us wrote it off as, oh, he talks like that. Maybe not.

"With bells on," I promised.

I would hella play in this campaign.

happy "is it tuesday or wednesday?" friday

i always click the "track package" button as soon as i get the email. "oh boy i wonder where my package is!" warehouse.

this april fools it's important to remember the brave fools who have died so that we may be here today

pacific rim fucks severely for a lot of reasons but my favorite is that it opens with "the lizard aliens are unionizing so we built robots running on the power of love to fight them you got all that right" and before you have time to really process that concept bam gunshot body on the floor and the movie goes "now consider the vast power of grief in this setup" it never really stops considering

golf sucks but mini golf is fucking awesome....truly one of life's great paradoxes

golf:

mini golf:

Golf: completely fucking silent practically on pain of death

Mini golf: dunking on ppl while theyre taking a shot is pretty much required

April Fools day here is always funny because my dash is full of “here’s a Rick roll but it’s actually a different song” “here’s ‘do you love the color of the sky’ just kidding! It’s not the full long post!” “Here’s a drawing I made of a kitty! Just kidding! It’s two kitties and they’re best friends” and we do this unironically and completely ignoring the blood lust we all experience every year just two weeks prior

here have this grond meme that my partner made

get 'em gimli

i am afraid of people who reblog things with no tags. not even any identifiers like the show it’s from or anything. just silence. what are you thinking?? hello??

you know what understandable have a good day

every day i regret getting my cats a tree thats nearly as tall as the ceiling because they look down on me like a medieval prince watching the peasants toil in the field

literally sketched what he looks like right this moment. who does he think he is