Indeed, this is exactly the sort of content I like to see on my dash.
Oh, D&D divine treasure.
These are perfect
These are hilarious :D I love the Sorcerer one, perfect for Lessandero.
BUT do I have a story about the Cleric
We just started a new campaign a while ago where our characters were forced into a team against their will. And the Cleric is of a religion that condemns all beings that aren’t human or maybe elvish as evil, godless creatures from hell who don’t deserve to live. That goes doubly, of course, for tieflings. Well, guess what I’m playing?
My tiefling rogue was very tempted to just stab him and get on with it, but there were Circumstances preventing us from killing each other. Just killing each other. No one said anything about being nice.
So, of course, the Cleric keeps insulting and cursing me, and the group’s Dragonborn as well, and telling us we deserve to die and what foul creatures we are etc, leading to him being regularly punched in the face.
Now but it wasn’t until our first fight - and keep in mind we were all still level 1 at this point, leaving us with all of 8-11 hit points - that we realized FUCKING BASTARD CLERIC IS OUR HEALER. So even if he was gonna heal us in the first place (which is doubtful, seeing as we don’t deserve to live), he sure as hell wouldn’t after we kept threatening him and punching him in the face.
Thankfully the elf was the only one getting seriously hurt, but we still had to force him practically at knife point to heal her.
In the eyes of the British government, the U.S. may now be a risky destination for LGBT travelers. The British Foreign Office posted a travel advisory update to its website Tuesday warning members of the lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender communities about anti-LGBT laws passed recently in North Carolina and Mississippi. “The U.S. is an extremely diverse society and attitudes towards LGBT people differ hugely across the country,” the advisory reads. “LGBT travelers may be affected by legislation passed recently in the states of North Carolina and Mississippi.”
The advisory also provides a map that marks countries around the world — including Turkmenistan, Pakistan, Nicaragua, as well as much of northern Africa and the Middle East — that also have anti-LGBT laws, and includes a few more pieces of travel advice. “Some hotels, especially in rural areas, won’t accept bookings from same-sex couples — check before you go,” the British government warns, noting that LGBT travelers should also “exercise discretion” in rural areas and avoid “excessive physical shows of affection” when in public.
This is the type of thing that I think would come as a shock to some Americans, as to how SCARY their country appears to many of us in the rest of the world. (And that’s allowing for the fact that many of our countries can be scary in their own ways.)
It’s not the fact that our country seems scary to other people. We live in a fucking dystopian state where people get warnings that excessive shows of affection might get us beaten or some shit, where we might be turned out of restaurants, stores, or hotels. Like, shit, I’ve never actually had a girlfriend (had a couple boyfriends), but my best friend and I hold hands and if we lived in the South I would fucking live in fear that she was going to pay for the fact that I’m a tactile person.
Like. We’re scared. It’s scary. I think sometimes we just forget that other people might look at us from the outside and give an active shit, because we’re so used to our government doing the exact opposite.
He wakes up and the first word he hears is wait! and his lips start to form the word burr? but then he sees the speaker: a woman with red hair wearing something obscenely, splendidly tight and he wonders if this is heaven and God is more of a tomcat that he suspected – but then he tries to move and pain flares down his spine, one greedy white jag, and he amends his original assessment: this is Hell, surely. “Pray tell,” he says, “where am I?” and the woman is joined by a sandy-haired man with some strange flesh-coloured apparatus curling around his ears. “New York,” says the man, “who’re you?” The man has a bow. The arrow is notched and aimed at Hamilton’s face. It is frightfully, laughably primitive – but then again the Indian braves have done much damage to westbound farmers with less and so Hamilton bites his tongue on some of his more hysterical questions and says, “My name is Alexander Hamilton. I’m at your service, sir.”
They tell him where he is. He does not believe them. They tell him when he is and he does not believe them – just a moment ago, just a moment ago, there was Burr, the gunshot, the smoke and the blood and I died I died I heard my heart lurch to a stop I saw God, the great beyond and –
They say a lot of words. There is a man in a slim black suit with obnoxious facial hair and he talks far too much and Hamilton is too quivery and out-of-place to understand the absurdity of such a condemnation (Hamilton says Tony Stark talks too much; in other news, a garden pond accuses the Atlantic of being overly wet.) He understands. He weeps. His children are dead, his grandchildren are dead. His legacy is –
there’s a musical, says Stark in a hush to Captain America (tall and blonde and how ridiculous, how perfectly absurd, this nation should not have saints or idols or – )
“A musical?”
There is a musical. There are books and television and the internet – God help the modern world, Hamilton learns about the internet and the first thing he does is write a twenty five thousand word blog on why the memory of Jefferson is overrated and false. He gets Jarvis to proofread it. He gets Jarvis to stick it on the New York Times and there’s a mass panic about someone hacking into the website for the sole purpose of slagging off a long-dead Founding Father. Nick Fury explains about firewalls and internet security. Hamilton rants at him – the Avengers listen through the door, hear things like Sally Hemings and how would you feel if the worst person you knew was remembered a hero and the article is taken down but somehow, somehow Hamilton learns what a blog is.
Things Hamilton loves about the modern world: twitter, blogging, Lin Manuel Miranda, swearing, loose sexual morality, Starbucks, minimal slavery (it still counts, he says hotly, in Africa and Asian it’s still there it isn’t gone yet – )
Yes he meets Lin Manuel Miranda. He rebukes him at length about inaccuracies. He thanks him. He sees his own play fifteen times and starts thinking about a sequel.
Oh yes. There’s a sequel.
Because the fact of the matter is this: Clinton’s corrupt and Sanders is well-meaning but doesn’t have the support and Trump is just…well. Hamilton breaks his nose and writes op-eds for every paper in the country declaring why he was right to do so.
Look: American politics is a mess. And in comes the Founding Father Without A Father, the Bastard Son of a Whore and he says: so what did I miss?
And he claps his hands and grins and says I’m not throwing away my shot and the internet goes mad and the public goes mad and no one is saying he’ll win this election but the next one, oh the next one. Four years is an eternity in politics and Senator Hamilton has the one thing he needed most: more time.
The thing about the rich of this country is that billionaires have more money than is humanly possible to spend. So like, I really do not give any amount of a shit if increasing their taxes is “faaair” because I care more about no one starving to death or going without medical care in fucking 2015 than I do about the great grandson of the guy who invented some crappy toy being able to buy his 17th yacht. We can fucking print out organs and we have people dying of the flu because they are too poor to go to the er. Like??? Tax the shit outta the rich. Take half their money. Idgaf.
And like conservatives are so quick to say its not fair to tax the fuck out of the rich, but then they say to people struggling that “life isn’t fair” like??? If anyone is getting screwed here I want it to be the guy who owns four mc mansions not the family of four living out of their car.
Welcome to the midpoint of 2016, in which this is STILL A FUCKING PROBLEM.
