I feel like the real peril of growing up Christian that no one really talks about is how deeply veggie tales songs get embedded into your fuckin head like a ticking time bomb of inanity
it could be decades later and you’re minding your own business in line at the grocery store or on the bus or trying to fall asleep and from the depths of your brain comes “the bunny, the bunny, ooh I love the bunny”
you’ll never be free
someone, being normal: it’s time
my goblin brain:
anytime i lose my hairbrush…..yall already know whats going down
me: walking anywhere
in the depths of my hell mind, in a French accent: KEEP WALKING! butyouwon’tknockdownourwall keep walking! BUT IT ISN’T GONNA FALL!
Ten days after I turned eight
Got my lips stuck in a gate
My friends all laughed
And I just stood there til the fire department came and broke the lock with a crowbar and I had to spend the next 6 weeks in lip rehab with this guy named oscar who got stung by a bee right on the lip and we couldn’t even talk to each other til the 5th week cause both our lips were so swollen and when he did start speaking he just spoke polish and I only know like 3 words in polish except now I know 4 because oscar taught me the word for lip- “usta”
I want to read a story about a wizard whose only spell is “fix this”, but the specially-crafted magic takes their intent into account. "Fix this" can mean repairing the wheel on the adventurers’ cart or healing a broken arm or “fixing” a lock so that it’s in what the wizard considers the “correct” (unlocked) position. Imagine the other mages getting increasingly frustrated as the wizard stubbornly refuses to learn any other spells.
Wizard: *points at a canyon* Fix this
Other casters: That’s not really how spells –
Wizard: Oh look, one of our blankets is now a magic carpet. Guess we don’t need a bridge.
Casters: How –
Wizard: *points at logs that won’t catch fire* Fix this
Other casters: There’s been too much rain, it won’t –
Wizard: I fixed it so that it’s in the same state it was yesterday. Someone here knows how to start a fire, right?
Casters: What –
Wizard: *points at charging dragon*: Fix this
Other casters: THAT’S NOT HOW MAGIC WORKS YOU IDIOT WE’RE GOING TO DIE
Dragon: *coughs* Did you just… cure my intestinal problems? I’ve been trying to stop breathing fire for weeks, but it just kept spilling out, and every time I tried to ask for help, I burned everything down. I won’t forget this kindness.
shit dude, here’s to all of the quiet victories. the things that other people take for granted but are so, so hard for you. the way your voice didn’t shake when you ordered your drink, the time you felt a swell of pride at something instead of shame, how you got out of bed after only the second time hitting snooze even though you couldn’t imagine anything more difficult than facing another fucking day. fucking cherish those. relish them, rejoice in them, do not let anyone pluck them from your grasp because they are yours and they are important.
For context, my character is a level 15 alchemist named Alphonse Kendrick. Naturally, he’s somewhat off his rocker and often does things that are flat out crazy and insane, but somehow work out in the end. During a siege event with a larger army, the party had managed to capture a treasure chest that had been enchanted with “animate object” and “magic mouth,” essentially turning it into a chest that screams for help when it’s being stolen. After they get it back to base, they start working on how to open it. That’s when this happens:
Me: “I begin stroking it gently on the lid and asking it ‘Who’s a good chest? Who’s a good chest?’”
DM: “…It goes silent and begins to nervously whimper.”
Me: “I continue to stroke it and speak lovingly to it as I produce a gold coin and hold it in my hand like a dog treat.”
DM: “Oh, dear god. It slowly ‘sniffs’ the coin in your hand. You hear the locking mechanism begin to work.”
Me: “’That’s it, you’re a good chest! You’re a good chest!’”
DM, with his head down, trying not to lose it from laughing: “It opens its lid and takes the gold piece, also allowing you access inside.”
In the end, we recovered the treasure, and my mad alchemist now has a pet chest with its own alarm system. It’s name is Chester!
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