A short story about Persephone’s myth that I wrote this summer.

Hey OP… I ADORE this

Being a DM and writing your own campaigns is like buying your cats an elaborate cat condo and watching those dumb idiots spend 4 days in the box it came in eating packing peanuts

*slams the reblog so fast*

Two camp counselors who deserve better.  Yesterday and today’s warmups.

RTX Day 2! Myself, @happyanon-spreadlovenothate and @agentyorkdakota are hanging out in the dealer hall right now!

SCHEDULE: 1pm Project Improvisor 3pm RT Over the Rainbow 7pm Theater Mode Live (@ the Paramount)

On my first Fourth of July in the United States, I woke up in the morning, stretched and realized that my wife was still in bed.

I asked if she was going to work. She said, “Oh, don’t you know today is July Fourth?”

I looked through our window. Just about everybody in Fernley, Nevada, the town where we lived, was on their way to Main Street with chairs, umbrellas, drinks and snacks.

I was confused. What were they going to celebrate? I was curious, too, so I got our camp chairs and headed out to join our neighbors. That’s when my wife told me what was going on: “July Fourth is America’s Independence Day.”

I jumped out of my seat! This couldn’t be true. Who could have colonized a great country like America?

I thought colonization only occurred in Africa, where I grew up. I didn’t believe her.

That was in 2014 — the year I found out that America was once a British colony, just like my native Ghana.

I have had the privilege of seeing two ways of celebrating independence — and along the way have given a lot of thought to what independence really means.

George Mwinnyaa: Why I Love (And Question) Independence Day

Photo: Cristina Aldehuela/AFP/Getty Images

So @happyanon-spreadlovenothate an’ @redteamshark commissioned me for the wonderful idea of South, Wash, Tucker an’ Sharkface playing Cards Against Humanity, an’ I enjoyed every bit of it. xD

It's so cute I love it so much

I just realized that I never uploaded this! I probably had something I wanted to change but I don’t remember what it was anymore. 

My first animation, done for a class. I hope to do more in the future since this was pretty fun, probably mostly just animatics instead of fully animated sequences though for a while.

The Only Child:

The First Born:

The Middle Child:

The Second Child-A:

The Second Child-T:

The Youngest of Three: 

The Youngest in a Line of Many:

WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT THIS IS THE MOST ACCURATE THING EVER WRITTEN WHAT THE HECK

I AM THE ONLY CHILD

i can no longer take any description of a male protagonist seriously if the writer describes him as ‘brooding’

because i used to think ‘oh, that’s sexy and mysterious, etc’

and now i think of this

once you’ve been loudly cussed out by 2.5 lbs of feathers, that word only ever means one thing

This is the kinda brooding i WANNA see

#so this behavior basically translates to nonstop cuddling of offspring and vocal aggression towards anything that tries to prevent that #tbh i would be delighted to see male protagonists do just this sort of thing (via starfoozle)

I just had to explain what I was cackling at to my roommate. It automatically passes the Laugh Rule.

She found her reluctant fiance, Erstad, brooding out on the rainy moors. 

“Is that a baby rabbit?” she asked, observing his huddled form. 

“IT’S SIX BABY RABBITS AND YOU CAN’T TOUCH THEM,” replied Ernstad, contriving to look twice his usual size and at least three times his usual fierceness. 

“Whoah okay damn,” she said, and backed away. 

I have a soft spot for parental figures who don’t want to admit they’re parental figures.

“I am not a father,” he says as he is followed by a horde of children.

@mermaidmanifest

My favorite.

Couples receive “parent points”, which they can use to purchase their children. Most parents wait for a few thousand, but you chose to buy the cheaper, 100 point child.

Shane knows what it’s like to be a 100 point child. He knows how it feels to see potential parents–potential families–come through the facilities doors, faces bright with excitement. He knows how it feels to see them reading the little plaques on the nursery doors, scanning the lists there for the right bits of knowledge and etiquette and grace that they want their baby to have.

He knows how it feels to see their faces pinch outside the window before they hurry to the next room.

Shane grew up in a 100 point nursery. They had torn, ratty, books and no teachers, and when snack time came, the tray was pushed through a slat in the door. They were called “unruly” and “damaged” and “stupid.” A lot of the other kids threw tantrums and broke furniture (and sometimes other kids). A lot of the other kids went quiet after the first few years when they realized they’d never be adopted until they were old enough (or pretty enough) to be useful. A lot of the kids cried and didn’t stop until they got taken away or were aged out.

Shane’s grown up a lot since aging out. He put himself through school, got himself a job, shed his 100 points like the torn clothes he’d left the facility in. He’s powerful now, successful, and he’s grown out of the twisted nose, big ears, and gap-toothed smile that had made him one of the less attractive 100 point babies. Or maybe he’s grown into them. Who’s to say?

It’s taken him a long time to get enough Parent Points to do what he wants. Being a man is, for once, somewhat hindering as most of society equates “parental” with “maternal.” He’s lost count of how many social workers have politely hid expressions of surprise when he told them he wanted to adopt stag, that he’s willing to take the classes, get the grades, make the oaths to get even one Parent Point.

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