This fervor over Joe Biden joking that he was going to run in 2020 (he’s not; he’d be 78) really reminds me of how sexist the whole anti-Hillary thing is, because Joe Biden’s voting history has been way more conservative and way more pro-finance than Hillary’s voting history, and yet it’s fine for Joe Biden cuz Joe Biden is funny and chill and someone you’d have a beer with and he’s got memes. Can you imagine how a woman politician would eviscerated if she just said whatever came to her mind like Joe? Nothing against Biden; he seems like a cool guy, but I’d vote Clinton ten times over before Biden (though unlike some people, I would certainly vote for him in the general to avoid Orange Ballsack, because I am not a fucking moron and I actually care about vulnerable populations).

can we take a moment to just think about how incredibly scary magical healing is in-context?

You get your insides ripped open but your friend waves his hands and your flesh just pulls back together, agony and evisceration pulling back to a ‘kinda hurts’ level of pain and you’re physically whole, with the 100% expectation that you’ll get back up and keep fighting whatever it was that struck you down the first time.

You break your arm after falling somewhere and after you’re healed instead of looking for ‘another way around’ everybody just looks at you and goes “okay try again”.

You’ve been fighting for hours, you’re hungry, thirsty, bleeding, crying from exhaustion, and a hand-wave happens and only two of those things go away. you’re still hungry, you’re still weak from thirst, but the handwave means you have ‘no excuse’ to stop.

You act out aggressively maybe punch a wall or gnash your teeth or hit your head on something and it’s hand-waved because it’s ‘such a small injury you probably can’t even feel it anymore’ but the point was that you felt it at all?

Your pain literally means nothing because as long as you’re not bleeding you’re not injured, right? Here drink this potion and who cares about the emotional exhaustion of that butchered village, why are you so reserved in camp don’t you think it’s fun retelling that time you fell through a burning building and with a hand-wave you got back up again and ran out with those two kids and their dog? 

Older warriors who get a shiver around magic-users not because of the whole ‘fireball’ thing but the ‘I don’t know what a normal pain tolerance is anymore’ effect of too much healing. Permanent paralysis and loss of sensation in limbs is pretty much a given in the later years of any fighter’s life. Did I have a stroke or did the mage just heal too hard and now this side of my face doesn’t work? No i’m not dead from the dragon’s claws but I can’t even bend my torso anymore because of how the scar tissue grew out of me like a vine.

Magical healing is great and keeps casualties down.

But man.

That stuff is scary.

things i've heard in the band hallway: a masterlist

“if you say silly one more Goddamn Time I will shove my silly clarinet up your ass”

“marching band is like a cult. except more sexual”

“I don’t want to look just sexy. I want to look: pin me against a wall and talk bandy to me sexy”

“merchin’ bernd is lerf”

*a five year old, asking our pic player*
“where’s the rest of it?”

“congratulations, you finally suck”

*band director, talking to a clarinet player*
“you know, Brandon’s too confusing of a name. your name is now Johan”


“oh you’re so cool, with your mirror baritone selfie”

*saxophone player, looking into the distance, in a southern accent*
“my diaphragm hurts”


“okay, so it started out by arguing about who had the better ass…”

*band director, addressing the band*
“you guys are like lemurs. you follow me around, and when I jump a cliff, you do too. except, without the cliff part”

*talking to a Mello player who had a concussion*
“I guess you could say you play perCUSSION now”

“it could be worse, the tuba could be on fire”

“okay but this section shouldn’t be HEY! it should be more like heeeeey”

“I pronounce it peep or peh-pay depending on the weather, the position of Mars, and how many caribou can fit Ito 3.7 square miles”

“if we’re a family can I be the distant estranged cousin from France”

“if you don’t feel like you could pass out right now you’re not doing it right.”


Hello my Sassy Scapulas,

This is General Skelenhower sending one more message until we all ship out to war. The marrow-rich morale has flowed directly into fuckbois fears worldwide and I am truly proud of all you brave soldiers.

We have the spoops.

We have the doot doots

and most importantly…

We’ve avoided the IRS  




in style of course…

With spookiest intention,

-General Skelenhower

A Druid's Guide on How to Upset the DM (And Make Your Party Love/Fear You)

Context: We’re trying to rest in an evil corrupted forest when part way through the night we’re rudely woken up by four saber-toothed tigers.

Druid: [first turn] Um, my turn right? Uh, I’m gonna try Conjure Animals. [never casted this spell before]

DM: Okay, what do you summon?

Druid: I summon… Eight… wolves. Eight wolves.

DM: [not prepared] Oh shit…

[wolves proceed to eviscerate the saber-toothed tigers]

Whole party is laughing and losing it.

Ranger: [barely getting his words out over his laughter] Oh my god, this spell is awesome. I love it. This is so awesome.

DM: Damn. When you said you’d conjure animals, I thought it’d be like 2 or 3.

Rogue: And now I’m even more afraid of [druid]. Wake her up, and either get a Lightning Bolt to the face or a pack of wolves pop out of thin air to eat you.

Bump in the night


For all it’s ridiculousness, Halloween was the only night of the year he was able to not only hunt in almost plain view of everyone, but even if he was caught it was all considered to be part of the season. Hell, he could even walk around covered head to toe in gore and nobody would be none the wiser.

Hamish hummed cheerily as he dragged the eviscerated carcass of some poor fool behind him, finding a nice copse of trees in which he could dump the corpse. Not ten yards away, trick or treaters and party goers bustled about, not giving the ravenous vampire a second glance as he disposed of his third victim that evening.

It wasn’t too often he was able to freely gorge himself.

Peeling a chunk of flesh off the front of his coat, the vampire stepped onto the sidewalk, unable to suppress a toothy grin.

Humans were so incredibly dense.

friendly reminder that the Suriel could have totally eviscerated Feyre in the moments after she released it, but it was so entertained by her angst that it let her get away a second time.