A Desperate Cleric Slamming Every Healing Spell So Hard To Bring Someone Back To Life The Ground Is Forced

I love the idea of dead gods. Not in the sense of “hey i killed something supernaturally strong” but in the sense of “i killed it and it’s still a god.” It is still worshipped. prayers are still answered. miracles are performed in its name, even as it lies pierced by a thousand swords and burning with chemical fire. even as it drifts through vacuum, decapitated and bleeding molten rock. in cosmic spite of being shot through each eye and hurled into a plasma reactor, it still radiates the power of the divine in a way that primitive death cannot smother. the nature of godchild is not so simple as to be tied to the mortality, or immortality, of any living being.

Gav’s Tavern Hi, I hope you like this. It is different from what I usually do. Also it was a lot of work.

dude.

adulthood is just a constant struggle of, “man, i want cookies for breakfast, but I also recognize this is a bad nutritional decision.  On the other hand, the only one who can stop me is me.  i know that fucker’s weaknesses.  i could totally take me in a fight.”

I can understand how "modern person thrown into the past gets by pretending to be a healer/doctor" is as surprisingly common of a trope as it is. I mean I'm fluent enough at bullshitting to be pretty sure I could pull it off to impersonate a doctor in any time pre-1800s. If I have no idea what something is or how to treat it, I could just get the opinion of the other whatever-passes-as-medical-professionals around, but if their suggestions sound like bullshit I'm not doing it. And I'll beat the shit out of anyone suggesting bloodletting or mercury. With my healing stick. I've tied little bells on it, that jingle comically with every smack.

The awesome curative powers of my healing stick come from two separate sources: Placebo, and me using it to beat anyone trying to give my patients mercury.

rain doggo 

(via)

never let anyone tell you that trawling through mediocre victorian poetry isn't worth it. we just happened upon an absolute BANGER of a worm poem. go read it or else 🪱🪱🪱

Sketch of Sun Wukong with Oz. Set post-game, her hair would be long enough to use a hairpin to tie it up — there were no hairpins lying around so she used Ruyi Jingu Bang as a hairpin.

Sun Wukong in tiger loin clothes because they decide to go on another adventure to take a break from Monkey King business (also I didn't want to draw the armor)

Might color it at some point!

Twitter (2020) VS the Hays code (1930)

Happy Crowy Yule! It's a reall whose who of Yuletide.