Reblog To Bonk Your Mutuals On The Head Every Time They Start Thinking Negatively About Themselves

Just in case

I had to draw it, I'm sorry.

i ran out of space

My book "Life in Every Sketch" is now live on Kickstarter! Back it up here: https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/1906838062/the-art-of-ramonn90

I’m pragmatic, and I think that’s why I’ve been able to create wealth through art. By wealth, I mean opportunities. I care about what’s useful—that’s where my eye goes, and where I try to place my hands when I draw, paint, or write.

This book is the peak of that mindset—an attempt to turn struggle into structure and share what’s helped me. If that speaks to you, there are only a few days left.

Four Portions

(Act 1, Scene 2)

An In Stars and Time fanfiction, spoilers under the cut!

You’ve entered the House, and are now in a room Mira called “The Death Corridor.”, searching for traps.

There isn’t much here that could be trapped, only the six pillars, which you’re already checking for switches or other activation devices. You also try to walk on every part of the floor while you’re at it, in case of a pressure plate or a trapdoor or something, but you don’t find any traps, and tell your party the corridor’s safe. Mira, however, needs more convincing.

“So? So??? Are we safe? We’re not safe, are we, this is the Death Corridor...” Mira worries, “The older housemaidens kept saying people died there! So there must be a trap- something weight-sensitive or something!”

Mira’s getting more frantic now, her nails are getting dangerously close to biting-distance!

“Or, or! Maybe it’s time-sensitive! If we spend to long here...!”

“There’s nothing weird in here.” You say, finally.

“But there must be!”

“Aw, Mira...” Yes! Isa to the rescue!

“Belle, Belle, don’t worry about it.” Bonnie interjects. “Frin isn’t good at many things, but they know stuff about traps.”

Hey...

“Right. If we can’t trust the one that’s supposed to lead us THIS early, this won’t bode well for later...” Odile says.

HEY...

Mira seems unconvinced. “But, but-“

“We’re not dead yet, are we?” you say.

“Well, that’s true...”

“We HAVE been in this room for a while...” Odile looks up from her notes and at Mira. “...and Siffrin has been walking everywhere, so if it was weight-sensitive, something would have killed him by now.”

“Exactly! It’s all fine!” Isa adds, hurriedly.

“Oh...Yeah! Yeah, okay! I’ll believe you!” Mira flushes with an embarrassed smile. “Sorry... for worrying... I'm a little on edge.”

“We’re good, Mira.” You say, stepping into the middle of the corridor. “See? Everything’s fine.”

<<<<<

You’re not sure what happened. One moment you’re standing, fine, and the next you’re splayed under a giant rock, and the next you’re planet-long threads, laid down and scrutinised,

And now, you’re back in the meadow.

[Previous][Next]

A completely normal amount of 4-leaf clovers I found today

This is tragic

Once a little boy went to school. One morning The teacher said: “Today we are going to make a picture.” “Good!” thought the little boy. He liked to make all kinds; Lions and tigers, Chickens and cows, Trains and boats; And he took out his box of crayons And began to draw.

But the teacher said, “Wait!” “It is not time to begin!” And she waited until everyone looked ready. “Now,” said the teacher, “We are going to make flowers.” “Good!” thought the little boy, He liked to make beautiful ones With his pink and orange and blue crayons. But the teacher said “Wait!” “And I will show you how.” And it was red, with a green stem. “There,” said the teacher, “Now you may begin.”

The little boy looked at his teacher’s flower Then he looked at his own flower. He liked his flower better than the teacher’s But he did not say this. He just turned his paper over, And made a flower like the teacher’s. It was red, with a green stem.

On another day The teacher said: “Today we are going to make something with clay.” “Good!” thought the little boy; He liked clay. He could make all kinds of things with clay: Snakes and snowmen, Elephants and mice, Cars and trucks And he began to pull and pinch His ball of clay.

But the teacher said, “Wait!” “It is not time to begin!” And she waited until everyone looked ready. “Now,” said the teacher, “We are going to make a dish.” “Good!” thought the little boy, He liked to make dishes. And he began to make some That were all shapes and sizes.

But the teacher said “Wait!” “And I will show you how.” And she showed everyone how to make One deep dish. “There,” said the teacher, “Now you may begin.”

The little boy looked at the teacher’s dish; Then he looked at his own. He liked his better than the teacher’s But he did not say this. He just rolled his clay into a big ball again And made a dish like the teacher’s. It was a deep dish.

And pretty soon The little boy learned to wait, And to watch And to make things just like the teacher. And pretty soon He didn’t make things of his own anymore.

Then it happened That the little boy and his family Moved to another house, In another city, And the little boy Had to go to another school.

The teacher said: “Today we are going to make a picture.” “Good!” thought the little boy. And he waited for the teacher To tell what to do. But the teacher didn’t say anything. She just walked around the room.

When she came to the little boy She asked, “Don’t you want to make a picture?” “Yes,” said the little boy. “What are we going to make?” “I don’t know until you make it,” said the teacher. “How shall I make it?” asked the little boy. “Why, anyway you like,” said the teacher. “And any color?” asked the little boy. “Any color,” said the teacher. And he began to make a red flower with a green stem.

~Helen Buckley, The Little Boy

hey, can my cat stay on your blog for a little while?

i'm going out of town for the night and could use someone to watch her

lulled by numbers FLASH WARNING