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the-strongest-decoy: arcticfoxbear: by-grace-of-god: prolifeproliberty: candiikismet: gingersofficial: Life path unlocked. He’s a scientist now. If your dad is telling you in great detail about something he’s passionate about, you’re going to be hooked even if you don’t understand a word. He tells us more… So now I have to deliver a quiet lecture on the Standard Model every night. He loves lists of things, like all the streets home from daycare, or the train stations between here and Central, so he loves hearing the list of leptons and quarks and bosons. Anyway, I made this poster for him, based on the CPEP ones we used to have at uni .  Alas I ran out of room for antimatter, colour charge and confinement, but hey, maybe there can be a second poster later. It’s funny though — on the surface of it, it seems like it must be far too advanced for a 3yo. But when you think about it, quarks and leptons are no more or less real to him than, say, dinosaurs or planets, and he loves those too. And he recognises the letters on the particles. I am absolutely overwhelmed by the kind and sweet things people are saying about this, thanks everyone ❤️ Addendum: he has really grasped onto the “everything is made of atoms” part of this, so tonight he listed just about every object he could think of and asked if it was made of atoms. “And my bed?”Yes, and your bed.“And that wall?”Yep.“And the armchair?”Yes, the armchair too.……“And… the book case?”Y— “And my home?”Yep, the whole apartment block.“And your home? Oh wait, your home is my home.”Haha, it is.……“But is it made of atoms?”Yep.“And… [best friend]’s home?”Yes, it is. And [other friend]’s home, and [third friend]’s home. “Is [yet another friend]’s home?” Update from the other night: “Is my… is… [extremely long pause] is my atoms poster made up of atoms?”—Yes! Yes it is. I have never heard such a contemplative silence. I think the next poster will have to be on the philosophy of referential language. Update from this morning: after listing everything in sight (mummy? daddy? fridge? milk? cereal? table? etc.) he asks “is [baby sister] made up of atoms?” yep! *runs over to her on the floor**puts face up real close to hers*“HI! YOU’RE MADE UP OF LOTS OF ATOMS! DID YOU KNOW?” @radioactivepeasant @themagdalenwriting @iusedtohaveanaccount “HI! YOU’RE MADE UP OF LOTS OF ATOMS! DID YOU KNOW?” : the-strongest-decoy: arcticfoxbear: by-grace-of-god: prolifeproliberty: candiikismet: gingersofficial: Life path unlocked. He’s a scientist now. If your dad is telling you in great detail about something he’s passionate about, you’re going to be hooked even if you don’t understand a word. He tells us more… So now I have to deliver a quiet lecture on the Standard Model every night. He loves lists of things, like all the streets home from daycare, or the train stations between here and Central, so he loves hearing the list of leptons and quarks and bosons. Anyway, I made this poster for him, based on the CPEP ones we used to have at uni .  Alas I ran out of room for antimatter, colour charge and confinement, but hey, maybe there can be a second poster later. It’s funny though — on the surface of it, it seems like it must be far too advanced for a 3yo. But when you think about it, quarks and leptons are no more or less real to him than, say, dinosaurs or planets, and he loves those too. And he recognises the letters on the particles. I am absolutely overwhelmed by the kind and sweet things people are saying about this, thanks everyone ❤️ Addendum: he has really grasped onto the “everything is made of atoms” part of this, so tonight he listed just about every object he could think of and asked if it was made of atoms. “And my bed?”Yes, and your bed.“And that wall?”Yep.“And the armchair?”Yes, the armchair too.……“And… the book case?”Y— “And my home?”Yep, the whole apartment block.“And your home? Oh wait, your home is my home.”Haha, it is.……“But is it made of atoms?”Yep.“And… [best friend]’s home?”Yes, it is. And [other friend]’s home, and [third friend]’s home. “Is [yet another friend]’s home?” Update from the other night: “Is my… is… [extremely long pause] is my atoms poster made up of atoms?”—Yes! Yes it is. I have never heard such a contemplative silence. I think the next poster will have to be on the philosophy of referential language. Update from this morning: after listing everything in sight (mummy? daddy? fridge? milk? cereal? table? etc.) he asks “is [baby sister] made up of atoms?” yep! *runs over to her on the floor**puts face up real close to hers*“HI! YOU’RE MADE UP OF LOTS OF ATOMS! DID YOU KNOW?” @radioactivepeasant @themagdalenwriting @iusedtohaveanaccount “HI! YOU’RE MADE UP OF LOTS OF ATOMS! DID YOU KNOW?”

the-strongest-decoy: arcticfoxbear: by-grace-of-god: prolifeproliberty: candiikismet: gingersofficial: Life path unlocked. He’s a...

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cereusblue: unnameablethings: dragonsateyourtoast: redporkpadthai: dragonsateyourtoast: otherwindow: otherwindow: This is how the golden age of piracy ended. The first mermaid to get tattoos :) “we didn’t know any better,” the crewman says, and swallows, presenting the chest to the captain. “what do we do now?” “kill it,” the captain says, but the ice is melting in his eyes. “we can’t,” the first mate says desperately, praying she won’t have to fight her captain on this. “we can’t. we - i won’t. we won’t.” “i know.” x “daddy,” she says, floating in a tub of seawater in the hold, “daddy, la-la, la-la-la.” her voice rings like bells. her accent is strange; her mouth isn’t made for human words. it mesmerises even the hardiest amongst them and she wasn’t even trying. the crew has taken to diving for shellfish near the shorelines for her; she loves them, splitting the shells apart with strength seen in no human toddler, slurping down the slimy molluscs inside and laughing, all plump brown cheeks and needle-sharp teeth. she sometimes splashes them for fun with her smooth, rubbery brown tail. even when they get soaked they laugh. they love her. “daddy,” she calls again, and he can hear the worry in her voice. the storm rocking the ship is harsh and uncaring, and if they go down, she would be the only survivor. “don’t worry,” he says, and goes over, sitting next to the tub. the first mate, leaning against the wall, pretends not to notice as he quietly begins to sing. x “father,” she says, one day, as she leans on the edge of the dock and the captain sits next to her, “why am I here?” “your mother abandoned you,” he says, as he always has. “we found you adrift, and couldn’t bear to leave you there.” she picks at the salt-soaked boards, uncertain. her hair is pulled back in a fluffy black puff, the white linen holding it slipping almost over one of her dark eyes. one of her first tattoos, a many-limbed kraken, curls over her right shoulder and down her arm, delicate tendrils wrapped around her calloused fingertips. “alright,” she says. x “why am I really here?” she asks the first mate, watching the sun set over the water in streaks of liquid metal that pooled in the troughs of the waves and glittered on the seafoam. “we didn’t know any better,” the first mate says, staring into the water. “we didn’t know- we didn’t know anything. we didn’t understand why she fought so viciously to guard her treasure. we could not know she protected something a thousand times more precious than the purest gold.” she wants to be furious, but she can’t. she already knew the answer, from reading the guilt in her father’s eyes and the empty space in her own history. and she can’t hate her family. “it’s alright,” she says. “i do have a family, anyways. i don’t think i would have liked my other life near as much.” x her kraken grows, spreading its tendrils over her torso and arms. she grows too, too large to come on board the ship without being hauled up in a boat from the water. she sings when the storms come and swims before the ship to guide it to safety. she fights off more than one beast of the seas, and gathers a set of scars across her back that she bears with pride. “i don’t mind,” she says, when the captain fusses over her, “now i match all of you.” the first time their ship is threatened, really threatened, is by another fleet. a friend turned enemy of the first mate. “we shouldn’t fight him,” she says, peering through the spyglass. “why not?” the mermaid asks. “he’ll win,” the first mate says. the mermaid tips her head sideways. Her eyes, dark as the deep waters, gleam in the noon light. “are you sure?” she asks. x the enemy fleet surrenders after the flagship is sunk in the night, the anchor ripped off the ship and the planks torn off the hull. the surviving crew, wild-eyed and delirious, whimper and say a sea serpent came from the water and attacked them, say it was longer than the boat and crushed it in its coils. the first mate hears this and has to hide her laughter. the captain apologizes to his daughter for doubting her. “don’t worry,” she says, with a bright laugh, “it was fun.” x the second time, they are pushed by a storm into a royal fleet. they can’t possibly fight them, and they don’t have the time to escape. “let me up,” the mermaid urges, surfacing starboard and shouting to the crew. “bring me up, quickly, quickly.” they lower the boat and she piles her sinous form into it, and uses her claws to help the crew pull her up. once on the deck she flops out of the boat and makes her way over to the bow. the crew tries to help but she’s so heavy they can barely lift parts of her. she crawls up out in front of the rail and wraps her long webbed tail around the prow. the figurehead has served them well so far but they need more right now. she wraps herself around the figurehead and raises her body up into the wind takes a breath of the stinging salt air and sings. the storm carries her voice on its front to the royal navy. they are enchanted, so stunned by her song that they drop the rigging ropes and let the tillers drift. the pirates sail through the center of the fleet, trailing the storm behind them, and by the time the fleet has managed to regain its senses they are buried in wind and rain and the pirates are gone. x she declines guns. instead she carries a harpoon and its launcher, and uses them to board enemy ships, hauling her massive form out of the water to coil on the deck and dispatch enemies with ruthless efficiency. her family is feared across all the sea. x “you know we are dying,” the captain says, looking down at her. she floats next to the ship, so massive she could hold it in her arms. her eyes are wise. “i know,” she says, “i can feel it coming.” the first mate stands next to the captain. she never had a lover or a child, and neither did he, but to the mermaid they are her parents. she will always love her daughter. the tattoos are graven in dark swirls across the mermaid’s deep brown skin and the flesh of her tail, even spiraling onto the spiked webbing on her spine and face. her hair is still tied back, this time with a sail that could not be patched one last time. “we love you,” the first mate says simply, looking down. her own tightly coiled black hair falls in to her face; she shakes the locs out of the way and smiles through her tears. the captain pretends he isnt crying either. “i love you too,” the mermaid says, and reached up to pull the ship down just a bit, just to hold them one last time. “guard the ship,” the captain says. “you always have but you know they’re lost without you.” “without you,” the mermaid corrects, with a shrug that makes waves. “what will we do?” “i don’t know,” the captain says. “but you’ll help them, won’t you?” “of course i will,” she scoffs, rolling her eyes. “i will always protect my family.” x the captain and the first mate are gone. the ship has a new captain, young and fearless - of the things she can afford to disregard. she fears and loves the ocean, as all captains do. she does not fear the royal fleet. and she does not fear the mermaid. “you know, i heard stories about you when i was a little girl,” she says, trailing her fingers in the water next to the dock. the mermaid stares at her with one eye the size of a dinner table. “is that so?” she hums, smirking with teeth sharper than the swords of the entire navy. “they said you could sink an entire fleet and that you had skin tougher than dragon scales,” the new captain says, grinning right back at the monster who could eat her without a moment’s hesitation. “i always thought they were telling tall tales.” “and now?” “they were right,” the new captain says. “how did they ever befriend you?” the mermaid smiles, fully this time, her dark eyes gleaming under the white linen sail. “they didn’t know any better.” She protects her family. Hi everybody! Guess what’s being posted on AO3 now at the following link! https://archiveofourown.org/works/22498384/chapters/53760817 That’s right! Here you go. I’ll be uploading it in some chunks, because I want to make sure I have everything I wanted edited cleanly finished, but follow the story there! HEY GUYS GUESS WHATS BACK ON THE DASHBOARD AND BETTER THAN EVER : cereusblue: unnameablethings: dragonsateyourtoast: redporkpadthai: dragonsateyourtoast: otherwindow: otherwindow: This is how the golden age of piracy ended. The first mermaid to get tattoos :) “we didn’t know any better,” the crewman says, and swallows, presenting the chest to the captain. “what do we do now?” “kill it,” the captain says, but the ice is melting in his eyes. “we can’t,” the first mate says desperately, praying she won’t have to fight her captain on this. “we can’t. we - i won’t. we won’t.” “i know.” x “daddy,” she says, floating in a tub of seawater in the hold, “daddy, la-la, la-la-la.” her voice rings like bells. her accent is strange; her mouth isn’t made for human words. it mesmerises even the hardiest amongst them and she wasn’t even trying. the crew has taken to diving for shellfish near the shorelines for her; she loves them, splitting the shells apart with strength seen in no human toddler, slurping down the slimy molluscs inside and laughing, all plump brown cheeks and needle-sharp teeth. she sometimes splashes them for fun with her smooth, rubbery brown tail. even when they get soaked they laugh. they love her. “daddy,” she calls again, and he can hear the worry in her voice. the storm rocking the ship is harsh and uncaring, and if they go down, she would be the only survivor. “don’t worry,” he says, and goes over, sitting next to the tub. the first mate, leaning against the wall, pretends not to notice as he quietly begins to sing. x “father,” she says, one day, as she leans on the edge of the dock and the captain sits next to her, “why am I here?” “your mother abandoned you,” he says, as he always has. “we found you adrift, and couldn’t bear to leave you there.” she picks at the salt-soaked boards, uncertain. her hair is pulled back in a fluffy black puff, the white linen holding it slipping almost over one of her dark eyes. one of her first tattoos, a many-limbed kraken, curls over her right shoulder and down her arm, delicate tendrils wrapped around her calloused fingertips. “alright,” she says. x “why am I really here?” she asks the first mate, watching the sun set over the water in streaks of liquid metal that pooled in the troughs of the waves and glittered on the seafoam. “we didn’t know any better,” the first mate says, staring into the water. “we didn’t know- we didn’t know anything. we didn’t understand why she fought so viciously to guard her treasure. we could not know she protected something a thousand times more precious than the purest gold.” she wants to be furious, but she can’t. she already knew the answer, from reading the guilt in her father’s eyes and the empty space in her own history. and she can’t hate her family. “it’s alright,” she says. “i do have a family, anyways. i don’t think i would have liked my other life near as much.” x her kraken grows, spreading its tendrils over her torso and arms. she grows too, too large to come on board the ship without being hauled up in a boat from the water. she sings when the storms come and swims before the ship to guide it to safety. she fights off more than one beast of the seas, and gathers a set of scars across her back that she bears with pride. “i don’t mind,” she says, when the captain fusses over her, “now i match all of you.” the first time their ship is threatened, really threatened, is by another fleet. a friend turned enemy of the first mate. “we shouldn’t fight him,” she says, peering through the spyglass. “why not?” the mermaid asks. “he’ll win,” the first mate says. the mermaid tips her head sideways. Her eyes, dark as the deep waters, gleam in the noon light. “are you sure?” she asks. x the enemy fleet surrenders after the flagship is sunk in the night, the anchor ripped off the ship and the planks torn off the hull. the surviving crew, wild-eyed and delirious, whimper and say a sea serpent came from the water and attacked them, say it was longer than the boat and crushed it in its coils. the first mate hears this and has to hide her laughter. the captain apologizes to his daughter for doubting her. “don’t worry,” she says, with a bright laugh, “it was fun.” x the second time, they are pushed by a storm into a royal fleet. they can’t possibly fight them, and they don’t have the time to escape. “let me up,” the mermaid urges, surfacing starboard and shouting to the crew. “bring me up, quickly, quickly.” they lower the boat and she piles her sinous form into it, and uses her claws to help the crew pull her up. once on the deck she flops out of the boat and makes her way over to the bow. the crew tries to help but she’s so heavy they can barely lift parts of her. she crawls up out in front of the rail and wraps her long webbed tail around the prow. the figurehead has served them well so far but they need more right now. she wraps herself around the figurehead and raises her body up into the wind takes a breath of the stinging salt air and sings. the storm carries her voice on its front to the royal navy. they are enchanted, so stunned by her song that they drop the rigging ropes and let the tillers drift. the pirates sail through the center of the fleet, trailing the storm behind them, and by the time the fleet has managed to regain its senses they are buried in wind and rain and the pirates are gone. x she declines guns. instead she carries a harpoon and its launcher, and uses them to board enemy ships, hauling her massive form out of the water to coil on the deck and dispatch enemies with ruthless efficiency. her family is feared across all the sea. x “you know we are dying,” the captain says, looking down at her. she floats next to the ship, so massive she could hold it in her arms. her eyes are wise. “i know,” she says, “i can feel it coming.” the first mate stands next to the captain. she never had a lover or a child, and neither did he, but to the mermaid they are her parents. she will always love her daughter. the tattoos are graven in dark swirls across the mermaid’s deep brown skin and the flesh of her tail, even spiraling onto the spiked webbing on her spine and face. her hair is still tied back, this time with a sail that could not be patched one last time. “we love you,” the first mate says simply, looking down. her own tightly coiled black hair falls in to her face; she shakes the locs out of the way and smiles through her tears. the captain pretends he isnt crying either. “i love you too,” the mermaid says, and reached up to pull the ship down just a bit, just to hold them one last time. “guard the ship,” the captain says. “you always have but you know they’re lost without you.” “without you,” the mermaid corrects, with a shrug that makes waves. “what will we do?” “i don’t know,” the captain says. “but you’ll help them, won’t you?” “of course i will,” she scoffs, rolling her eyes. “i will always protect my family.” x the captain and the first mate are gone. the ship has a new captain, young and fearless - of the things she can afford to disregard. she fears and loves the ocean, as all captains do. she does not fear the royal fleet. and she does not fear the mermaid. “you know, i heard stories about you when i was a little girl,” she says, trailing her fingers in the water next to the dock. the mermaid stares at her with one eye the size of a dinner table. “is that so?” she hums, smirking with teeth sharper than the swords of the entire navy. “they said you could sink an entire fleet and that you had skin tougher than dragon scales,” the new captain says, grinning right back at the monster who could eat her without a moment’s hesitation. “i always thought they were telling tall tales.” “and now?” “they were right,” the new captain says. “how did they ever befriend you?” the mermaid smiles, fully this time, her dark eyes gleaming under the white linen sail. “they didn’t know any better.” She protects her family. Hi everybody! Guess what’s being posted on AO3 now at the following link! https://archiveofourown.org/works/22498384/chapters/53760817 That’s right! Here you go. I’ll be uploading it in some chunks, because I want to make sure I have everything I wanted edited cleanly finished, but follow the story there! HEY GUYS GUESS WHATS BACK ON THE DASHBOARD AND BETTER THAN EVER

cereusblue: unnameablethings: dragonsateyourtoast: redporkpadthai: dragonsateyourtoast: otherwindow: otherwindow: This is how the g...

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the-captains-on-shore-leave: SOit’s come to @alphagummy‘s and my attention that apparently it’s not well-known in the fandom that damien canonly does drag, which would explain the general lack of fanart for it (at least from what we’ve seen, idk maybe it IS common knowledge and ppl just aren’t drawing it)so uh…we’re starting a hashtag. #damienindrag, cause we wanna see more of ppl’s designs for his drag outfits. i mean alpha and i are nobodies but IT’S WORTH A SHOT ANYWAYhere’s @alphagummy‘s fanart of dames in drag and this, obv, is my design. when i thought about this angry ketchup packet in drag, THIS is what IMMEDIATELY came to mind and WOULD NOT LEAV E UNTIL I DREW IT. it was a godsent image: the-captains-on-shore-leave: SOit’s come to @alphagummy‘s and my attention that apparently it’s not well-known in the fandom that damien canonly does drag, which would explain the general lack of fanart for it (at least from what we’ve seen, idk maybe it IS common knowledge and ppl just aren’t drawing it)so uh…we’re starting a hashtag. #damienindrag, cause we wanna see more of ppl’s designs for his drag outfits. i mean alpha and i are nobodies but IT’S WORTH A SHOT ANYWAYhere’s @alphagummy‘s fanart of dames in drag and this, obv, is my design. when i thought about this angry ketchup packet in drag, THIS is what IMMEDIATELY came to mind and WOULD NOT LEAV E UNTIL I DREW IT. it was a godsent image

the-captains-on-shore-leave: SOit’s come to @alphagummy‘s and my attention that apparently it’s not well-known in the fandom that damien...

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ask-kirby-sans: paddysnuffles: cyhiraeth: jumpingjacktrash: vertisol: offendedfunyarinpa: dduane: laurelai: angelalchemy: standbyfortitanfall: girlwithalessonplan: heliosapollo: losed: A CROW TRIED TO GO IN OUR CLASSROOM AND HE HAD A PEN yes hello i am here to learn geometries That crow is more prepared than some of my students. You’ve all just like, completely skipped over the possibility that this crow has seen people using pens in this room, found one, and is trying to return it. There’s been videos of crows picking up sweet wrappers and stuff and placing them in bins after seeing humans put their litter in bins. I really do believe that this crow is trying to return the pen and that is ADORABLE AS HELL.  THEY ARE SO SMART I LOVE THEM Crows are thought to be self aware by some scientists. Its perfectly possible the crow wants to return the pen to humans. Knowing it belongs to humans. Corvids. Who KNOWS. :) Another cool crow deal: Once, when trying to assess if crows could reason and use tools, scientists had two crows who didn’t know each other each take a wire from a table (one was hooked, one was straight) and try to grab meat from a bottle with it. The crows could see each other, though they had separate bottles. Only the straight wire worked for this, so they hypothesized that if crows could reason, the second trial would have the two crows fighting over the straight wire. The second trial started and, to the surprise of the scientists, the two crows both went for the bent wire, one held it down and the other unbent it. They both got meat out of their bottles. They came to a peaceful solution without verbal communication. Crows are probably smarter than we are. they still shit all over the place and eat garbage ok but so do we @neurodivergent-crow Cool facts about crows: 1. Crows understand the concept of gifts. There’s a little girl who started feeding the murder by her house and they started bringing her trinkets (cool pebbles, coins, shiny things, bleached animal bones, etc) as a thank you.  2. Crows remember who has been kind to them and tell other crows about the nice humans. There are various examples of people who have helped crows and the crows not only come back to say hi, but also bring friends who need help over for the nice human to help. 3. Crows are the only other animal known to make tools in order to make another tool. 4. Crows have been proven to have a sense of self If you mark them with a coloured dot that they can see and then show them their reflection in a mirror they soon realize that the reflection is them and not another crow. 5. Crows have regional dialects and accents. They are also able to copy each other’s dialects and accents to fit in if they move to an area where the accent is different. 6. Crows regularly visit their parents after leaving the nest. They also regularly live with their parents after reaching adulthood to help with raising their younger siblings for up to five years before moving out. Crows are better than people : ask-kirby-sans: paddysnuffles: cyhiraeth: jumpingjacktrash: vertisol: offendedfunyarinpa: dduane: laurelai: angelalchemy: standbyfortitanfall: girlwithalessonplan: heliosapollo: losed: A CROW TRIED TO GO IN OUR CLASSROOM AND HE HAD A PEN yes hello i am here to learn geometries That crow is more prepared than some of my students. You’ve all just like, completely skipped over the possibility that this crow has seen people using pens in this room, found one, and is trying to return it. There’s been videos of crows picking up sweet wrappers and stuff and placing them in bins after seeing humans put their litter in bins. I really do believe that this crow is trying to return the pen and that is ADORABLE AS HELL.  THEY ARE SO SMART I LOVE THEM Crows are thought to be self aware by some scientists. Its perfectly possible the crow wants to return the pen to humans. Knowing it belongs to humans. Corvids. Who KNOWS. :) Another cool crow deal: Once, when trying to assess if crows could reason and use tools, scientists had two crows who didn’t know each other each take a wire from a table (one was hooked, one was straight) and try to grab meat from a bottle with it. The crows could see each other, though they had separate bottles. Only the straight wire worked for this, so they hypothesized that if crows could reason, the second trial would have the two crows fighting over the straight wire. The second trial started and, to the surprise of the scientists, the two crows both went for the bent wire, one held it down and the other unbent it. They both got meat out of their bottles. They came to a peaceful solution without verbal communication. Crows are probably smarter than we are. they still shit all over the place and eat garbage ok but so do we @neurodivergent-crow Cool facts about crows: 1. Crows understand the concept of gifts. There’s a little girl who started feeding the murder by her house and they started bringing her trinkets (cool pebbles, coins, shiny things, bleached animal bones, etc) as a thank you.  2. Crows remember who has been kind to them and tell other crows about the nice humans. There are various examples of people who have helped crows and the crows not only come back to say hi, but also bring friends who need help over for the nice human to help. 3. Crows are the only other animal known to make tools in order to make another tool. 4. Crows have been proven to have a sense of self If you mark them with a coloured dot that they can see and then show them their reflection in a mirror they soon realize that the reflection is them and not another crow. 5. Crows have regional dialects and accents. They are also able to copy each other’s dialects and accents to fit in if they move to an area where the accent is different. 6. Crows regularly visit their parents after leaving the nest. They also regularly live with their parents after reaching adulthood to help with raising their younger siblings for up to five years before moving out. Crows are better than people
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battlecrazed-axe-mage: vigarath: ayriath: sensicalabsurdities: miatasenpai: island-delver-go: 8bitmickey: tanoraqui: threefeline: creepsandcrawlers: jelloapocalypse: dastardlypineapple: probablyottrpgideas: strangestquarkwave: professorsparklepants: vigarath: Size comparison of Y’gathok, the Ceaseless Hunger and Bjorn, our level 20 Goliath Barbarian. Hey quick question: why the FUCK do you have that Imagine, from out of nowhere, your dm casually slapping this thing down on the table like any other encounter. “Yeah, the fight will start in a sec, uh…I’ll give inspiration to whomever helps me get this fucking box out of my car.” https://www.reddit.com/r/DnD/comments/7asxci/oc_ygathok_the_ceaseless_hunger_final_boss_of_our/This is the reveal of this ridiculousness during their game Please watch this reveal video it’s kickass FUCK ME  the reveal video “CHRIS??????” “Um, I don’t think our plan is gonna work.” Always reblog Y'gathok DM:*Pulls out Y’gothok* *Turns on “Open Your Heart” by Crush 40* Wow that DM really goes above and beyond Reblogging Ygathok because it’s been one year since we fought him!!!! It just popped up on my timeline today! Happy one year anniversary, our precious Old God boi!!! One year ago today, this boy was revealed. And for you guys, I have great news: I have the stats of Y’gathok complete and a general design for “how to use him” done. However, an adventure guide is incoming to teach you how to integrate him into any of your worlds! Goddamn. That’s how you DM with style : battlecrazed-axe-mage: vigarath: ayriath: sensicalabsurdities: miatasenpai: island-delver-go: 8bitmickey: tanoraqui: threefeline: creepsandcrawlers: jelloapocalypse: dastardlypineapple: probablyottrpgideas: strangestquarkwave: professorsparklepants: vigarath: Size comparison of Y’gathok, the Ceaseless Hunger and Bjorn, our level 20 Goliath Barbarian. Hey quick question: why the FUCK do you have that Imagine, from out of nowhere, your dm casually slapping this thing down on the table like any other encounter. “Yeah, the fight will start in a sec, uh…I’ll give inspiration to whomever helps me get this fucking box out of my car.” https://www.reddit.com/r/DnD/comments/7asxci/oc_ygathok_the_ceaseless_hunger_final_boss_of_our/This is the reveal of this ridiculousness during their game Please watch this reveal video it’s kickass FUCK ME  the reveal video “CHRIS??????” “Um, I don’t think our plan is gonna work.” Always reblog Y'gathok DM:*Pulls out Y’gothok* *Turns on “Open Your Heart” by Crush 40* Wow that DM really goes above and beyond Reblogging Ygathok because it’s been one year since we fought him!!!! It just popped up on my timeline today! Happy one year anniversary, our precious Old God boi!!! One year ago today, this boy was revealed. And for you guys, I have great news: I have the stats of Y’gathok complete and a general design for “how to use him” done. However, an adventure guide is incoming to teach you how to integrate him into any of your worlds! Goddamn. That’s how you DM with style
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by-grace-of-god: prolifeproliberty: candiikismet: gingersofficial: Life path unlocked. He’s a scientist now. If your dad is telling you in great detail about something he’s passionate about, you’re going to be hooked even if you don’t understand a word. He tells us more… So now I have to deliver a quiet lecture on the Standard Model every night. He loves lists of things, like all the streets home from daycare, or the train stations between here and Central, so he loves hearing the list of leptons and quarks and bosons. Anyway, I made this poster for him, based on the CPEP ones we used to have at uni .  Alas I ran out of room for antimatter, colour charge and confinement, but hey, maybe there can be a second poster later. It’s funny though — on the surface of it, it seems like it must be far too advanced for a 3yo. But when you think about it, quarks and leptons are no more or less real to him than, say, dinosaurs or planets, and he loves those too. And he recognises the letters on the particles. I am absolutely overwhelmed by the kind and sweet things people are saying about this, thanks everyone ❤️ Addendum: he has really grasped onto the “everything is made of atoms” part of this, so tonight he listed just about every object he could think of and asked if it was made of atoms. “And my bed?”Yes, and your bed.“And that wall?”Yep.“And the armchair?”Yes, the armchair too.……“And… the book case?”Y— “And my home?”Yep, the whole apartment block.“And your home? Oh wait, your home is my home.”Haha, it is.……“But is it made of atoms?”Yep.“And… [best friend]’s home?”Yes, it is. And [other friend]’s home, and [third friend]’s home. “Is [yet another friend]’s home?” Update from the other night: “Is my… is… [extremely long pause] is my atoms poster made up of atoms?”—Yes! Yes it is. I have never heard such a contemplative silence. I think the next poster will have to be on the philosophy of referential language. Update from this morning: after listing everything in sight (mummy? daddy? fridge? milk? cereal? table? etc.) he asks “is [baby sister] made up of atoms?” yep! *runs over to her on the floor**puts face up real close to hers*“HI! YOU’RE MADE UP OF LOTS OF ATOMS! DID YOU KNOW?” : by-grace-of-god: prolifeproliberty: candiikismet: gingersofficial: Life path unlocked. He’s a scientist now. If your dad is telling you in great detail about something he’s passionate about, you’re going to be hooked even if you don’t understand a word. He tells us more… So now I have to deliver a quiet lecture on the Standard Model every night. He loves lists of things, like all the streets home from daycare, or the train stations between here and Central, so he loves hearing the list of leptons and quarks and bosons. Anyway, I made this poster for him, based on the CPEP ones we used to have at uni .  Alas I ran out of room for antimatter, colour charge and confinement, but hey, maybe there can be a second poster later. It’s funny though — on the surface of it, it seems like it must be far too advanced for a 3yo. But when you think about it, quarks and leptons are no more or less real to him than, say, dinosaurs or planets, and he loves those too. And he recognises the letters on the particles. I am absolutely overwhelmed by the kind and sweet things people are saying about this, thanks everyone ❤️ Addendum: he has really grasped onto the “everything is made of atoms” part of this, so tonight he listed just about every object he could think of and asked if it was made of atoms. “And my bed?”Yes, and your bed.“And that wall?”Yep.“And the armchair?”Yes, the armchair too.……“And… the book case?”Y— “And my home?”Yep, the whole apartment block.“And your home? Oh wait, your home is my home.”Haha, it is.……“But is it made of atoms?”Yep.“And… [best friend]’s home?”Yes, it is. And [other friend]’s home, and [third friend]’s home. “Is [yet another friend]’s home?” Update from the other night: “Is my… is… [extremely long pause] is my atoms poster made up of atoms?”—Yes! Yes it is. I have never heard such a contemplative silence. I think the next poster will have to be on the philosophy of referential language. Update from this morning: after listing everything in sight (mummy? daddy? fridge? milk? cereal? table? etc.) he asks “is [baby sister] made up of atoms?” yep! *runs over to her on the floor**puts face up real close to hers*“HI! YOU’RE MADE UP OF LOTS OF ATOMS! DID YOU KNOW?”

by-grace-of-god: prolifeproliberty: candiikismet: gingersofficial: Life path unlocked. He’s a scientist now. If your dad is tell...

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ineskew: mellific: in the past, we’d convinced ourselves that our technologies were just reflections of those who made them. we were wrong. (twitter) [ID: A quote from the Twilight Mirage arc of Friends at the Table, illustrated with art in shades of blue. “Since the first grain silo, cathedral, ship, computer,” the quote begins, over drawings of a grain silo, cathedral, rocket ship, and computer servers. “Since the first time we put pen to page— we have always made things different from ourselves,” it continues, the words appearing to be written with a fountain pen, a typewriter, and a word processor. The next couple lines are written over a picture of outer space, several spacecrafts and a city-ship flying through the stars: “For a long time we thought we were building mirrors. But now we know better: We were setting fires.” This last line is illustrated with a image of three planets drawn to resemble a glitching screen. /end ID] : SINCE THE FIRST GRAIN SILO CATHEDRAL SHIP COMPUTER SINGE THE FIRST TIME WE PUT PEN TO PAGE- MFile Edit View I we have always different from ourselves| made things FOR A LONG TIME WE THOUGHT WE WERE BUILDING MIRRORS BUT NOW WE KNOWW BETTER WE WERE SETTING FIRES. ineskew: mellific: in the past, we’d convinced ourselves that our technologies were just reflections of those who made them. we were wrong. (twitter) [ID: A quote from the Twilight Mirage arc of Friends at the Table, illustrated with art in shades of blue. “Since the first grain silo, cathedral, ship, computer,” the quote begins, over drawings of a grain silo, cathedral, rocket ship, and computer servers. “Since the first time we put pen to page— we have always made things different from ourselves,” it continues, the words appearing to be written with a fountain pen, a typewriter, and a word processor. The next couple lines are written over a picture of outer space, several spacecrafts and a city-ship flying through the stars: “For a long time we thought we were building mirrors. But now we know better: We were setting fires.” This last line is illustrated with a image of three planets drawn to resemble a glitching screen. /end ID]

ineskew: mellific: in the past, we’d convinced ourselves that our technologies were just reflections of those who made them. we were...

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