#FF¹

[foldingfittedsheets]

When I was a TA for the freshman art class in senior year my students really adored me. It was so sweet. I’d had classes that were more ambivalent toward me but these guys were all about me.

I loved working with that teacher too. He was the kind of crunchy art nerd whose own kid didn’t know what candy was, who loved bird watching and wearing tweed. We’d chat while they worked and it was just a three hour pleasure rather than work.

When the class switched from charcoal to gouache a devil medium, the evilest watercolor, the students struggled. We’d have in class painting where they’d spend the whole time trying to mix one color instead of just accepting something as good enough and trying to practice other skills.

So one day I showed up to my shift and announced, “I have stickers. If you get color down for the whole composition, you get a sticker.”

They wanted. The stickers. So bad. Students who had agonized before about keeping lines neat and perfect plowed ahead. The first student to call me over I tsked at. “Putting grey on everything doesn’t count,” I chided, “I asked for colors on each object.”

The classroom worked in furious joy, young adults who had seen my bird and cactus stickers and gone feral. The teacher was flabbergasted. “Why do they want stickers? They could just buy stickers…”

I held up my water bottle and showed him a tiny 3D bubble sticker the program director had brought to my game teams space last week. “You never grow out of wanting to earn a sticker.”

By the end of class everyone had a sticker. There was more visible improvement in the work too, which surprised them since they’d been rushing. “Gouache looks terrible before it looks good. It’s okay to start messy and then refine.” The teacher had said the same thing but looking at their frantic sticker paintings they finally saw the truth of it.

[blackshvck]

Kung Pow Penising is now illegal

[virtualgirladv]

[ravenmccookies]

Weird phenomenon I've seen on tumblr

[bebx]

me reading smut and calculating in my head the positions the characters are in

[evadingreallife]

(By trope-specific i mean for example all the slash fics hosting websites, or the nsfw-only ones, etc)

[javsarts]

Literally went from:

“Why would I ever trust the word of an Oathbreaker?”

“It’s unwise to trust a bloody Sharran”

To:

“Why hello, Lover, that sounded more debonaire in my head, I admit”

“I am yours, my Heart”

.

.

.

.

Aaaand I’m finally in Act 3 (fucking finally) with my Oathbreaker Paladin Durge run. I can only wish I’m talented enough of a writer to write a fic for these two I swear-

Edit:

Not sure if anyone cares but yeah, fic here lol

https://archiveofourown.org/works/55994872/chapters/14220

[puraiuddo]

FanFiction.net is not gone.

Right now it's a victim of DNS (Domain Name Service) spoofing. This means that a malicious party is trying to steal traffic from FFn by purchasing a very similar domain.

Correction:

The new "fake" site that people are seeing still belongs to FanFiction.net—they just misconfigured their servers and are not redirecting traffic from the bare fanfiction.net to the main site at www.fanfiction.net. There is likely no malicious agent. Didn't mean to scare anyone! Just wanted to let people know the site wasn't deleted!

So if you want to read fanfiction and not see leaves, you have have to type out "www.fanfiction.net".

Please share so people stop panicking.

[chaobunnyarts]

FFXIV drinks--full set!

[ebonyheartnet]

-Recording begins-

Spider-Man: Hi folks! I’d like to give a PSA to my usual villains, and anyone else with ideas for the next two months.

Spider-Man: *holds up a brick sized lump of metal* See this? It’s titanium!

Spider-Man: *starts flattening it out and shaping it*

Spider-Man: See, we all know that I’m crazy strong, but I never wanna really hurt anybody right? Right. While that hasn’t changed, something very important does right around this time of year.

Spider-Man: *pulls off a glove and pulls a chunk into a long stem with his nails carving lines for added texture*

Spider-Man: See, this is what we like to call exam season. Anybody who knows anything about college can tell you that it drives people up the wall, and I already climb mine when I’m antsy.

Spider-Man: *starts winding the thin sheet around the stem, delicately crimping petals in place*

Spider-Man: I do wanna be clear that this isn’t a threat, okay? I’m still not interested in crossing the line, which brings me to my point.

Spider-Man: *throws the titanium rose at the brick wall behind him, stem first, and embeds it all the way through*

Spider-Man: /That/ was restrained because I could focus enough to have full control. If I’m extremely tired or otherwise distracted, there’s just as much risk of me slipping up as someone operating heavy machinery. I’m probably not going to remember what sleep is for two whole months, so remember!

Spider-Man: *pulls out a brick and snaps it like a cookie*

Peter fucking Parker: Don’t.

[foldingfittedsheets]

Mattresses, unbeknownst to many, are a lot like cars. Every year new ones roll out, they’re always tweaking and innovating and you’ll never find the same one you loved decades ago when buying a new one.

Where I sold mattresses had a three month return or exchange program for this reason. New beds take a while to break in, and they’re a big expense. Your body is used to the old one. So we made sure people were loving it. If a bed got returned we’d take it back, sanitize and clean it, then sell it again on clearance.

To sell these we always had to disclose what clearance meant to customers, and they had to sign that they knew what they were getting. (FYI, not every company is as… forthright about the used bed situation)

In clearance we had beds that were floor models, we had returns, and more rarely we had old models whose line had been discontinued. These clearance beds were always final sale, so a bed could only be sold twice.

Now, the manager at the store I was working at had realized a vital fact. Clearance beds in the warehouse didn’t sell, especially old models that salespeople weren’t familiar with. And even more especially in odd sizes, like twin extra longs. So he set up a split king on the showroom floor to exhibit clearance beds, pulling all those forgotten twin extra longs out onto the showroom.

Almost all of these were brand new discontinued models. Beds I’d never learned in training were exhumed to be displayed. The manufacturers had moved on to new lines and they’d been left behind. Why would he take such in interest in selling old stock, you might wonder? Because we made double commission on the sales margin of clearance beds, and if we’d had a bed long enough they dropped the cost in the system so it was a fucking cash cow to sell these. Even with huge discounts the commissions were wonderful so it was a win win.

When I got started I was jazzed about this program, I was so on board to sell weird old brand new beds and make a ton of money. I had a wonderful older couple come in, looking for a split king adjustable set. This was a white whale sale.

The current clearance models on the floor were a latex mattress that was brand new despite being of an age to start first grade, and a tempurpedic floor model. The couple laid down and it was like magic. They each loved the bed they’d laid down on. They wanted to buy the whole shebang.

I. Was. Thrilled. I told them about the clearance program and what that meant, and they weren’t bothered in the least. I wrote up the sale then dashed into the back, fizzing with excitement to tell my manager what I’d done.

“You sold the death bed?!” He asked in delight.

I pulled up short, my smile freezing in place. “What…?”

“Didn’t you check the notes?”

I hesitated for a long beat then slowly shook my head. You see, dear reader, all beds had a personal history. Every clearance bed had logs written up by the person who took the return, as well as warehouse crew after sanitizing. It helped us know what to expect when selling them. “Wasn’t it just a floor model? You said it was a floor model…”

He slowly shook his head. I checked the notes.

It turned out, it had been sold as a floor model. The first time. But the company had made an exception and taken it back as a return two months later. Why? Because it’s owner had passed away.

I stared at the computer in horror and my manager shrugged. “They signed the clearance form. Technically it was a floor model.”

“We know for a fact that a man died in that bed!”

“What they don’t know can’t haunt them,” he said philosophically.

The man came back a week later for more sheets, utterly delighted to tell me how well they were sleeping. I clamped my teeth down around the secret of the deathbed, choosing to let them love their new bed without the stigma. Only one person would be haunted by that deathbed, and it was me.

[theghostofbean]

”Men think about the Roman Empire” “What’s the female version of the Roman Empire” SHUT UPPPPP. SHUT THE FUCK UPPPPPP. AS A WOMAN I LOVE THE ROMAN EMPIRE. AS A WOMAN I LOVE ANCIENT HISTORY AND BATTLES AND POLITICAL INSTABILITY. THE “GIRL VERSION OF THE ROMAN EMPIRE” IS THE ROMAN EMPIRE. IM GOING TO STAB YOU 23 TIMES

[ladybracknellssherry]

Why didn't anyone tell me this is a play on a bible quote? First time I regret being raised by atheists.

Can't believe some gay ass show got me reading the bible.

[catilinas]

the past is dead the future died before it could be born and me i feel also not so good

[evocationwriter]

I have such a deep appreciation for the BG3 voice actors. They will willingly take time out of their day to make videos just to indulge us. Like. Lae’zel reciting “Milkshake” in a deadpan voice. Rolan lost in a library. Zevlor nervously asking Tav for a kiss. Gale reciting poetry. Astarion trying to get us up in the morning. Jaheira and that lightbulb.

And the coolest part is that, given their willingness to do all those things, that appreciation is clearly mutual.

[ghost-bxrd]

Prompt:

Instead of Dick or Tim, Red Hood straight up goes for kidnapping Bruce Wayne and keeping him hostage just to see how desperate the birds get in trying to find him.

It’s a foolproof plan. Batman won’t blow his cover unless absolutely necessary, and “Brucie” would never know how to slip away from a crime lord of Red Hood’s caliber. It’s foolproof. It’s perfect. Jason can keep dropping hints and make threats towards the birds and watch Bruce squirm without consequences if he plays this right.

But then “Brucie” keeps begging him not to hurt his kids…