#deadlines am i right

[phantomrose96]

I think we should have a turn of phrase for "I'm not in the right, but I AM annoyed with this situation, so I just need to go bitch to a friend about this before I suck it up and go do the right thing" because more and more I'm finding this is a critical element of functional adulthood.

[abby-howard]

Some folks were asking whether the frames in the new trailer were hand-drawn: yah!

I tape them to my desk and just draw little crosshairs on each so I can line them up post-scanning. I tried to get a pegboard but they were too small ToT Paper for ants...

[egophiliac]

i love your riddle design so much, he's so pointy and british. so gracious. do you think he would enjoy a brazilian goiabada

thank you! ❤️🖤❤️ it's just. important to me on a level I can't explain that Riddle have an extremely pointy nose that he can stick into everyone else's business.

also goiabada is sweet and fruity and red, I think he would like it very much indeed!

not me stealth-editing because I forgot his antenna whoops

[shou-jpeg]

Oops...

Happy belated Songkran! #songkranfest2024

[yepthatsacowalright]

Been wanting to try to digitally paint sunset clouds for a while now, remembered this shot in FOTR exists, and sort of blacked out the past few days working on it.

[1650-1793-1941]

Aziraphale had always been able to feel when a place was loved. As an angel, love was very much in his remit. Often it was just a sense of warmth in a local coffee shop, or the infusion of countless weddings into the stone walls of a church keeping damp at bay. Tadfield had been a special case, Adam’s love for the place multiplying the feeling to almost unfathomable levels, but every close-knit village across the country hummed with a similar, albeit it far subtler, joy.

It was therefore not particularly strange to settle into the Bentley, reading himself for the drive to Edinburgh, and feel a wave of love from the vehicle. Crowley had loved the car for ninety years. That kind of attachment couldn’t possibly not leave a mark. Usually when Aziraphale was in the Bentley, he was sitting beside Crowley, whose terrible emotion processing skills worked hard to suppress the feelings, but now Aziraphale was alone he could tell the car was so clearly cherished. He couldn’t help but smile, running his hands over the leather of the steering wheel to reassure the car that he’d take good care of it, because it clearly mattered to Crowley so deeply.

It was thirty miles out of London that Aziraphale started to become aware that there was something slightly different about the love infused into the Bentley. Usually it went one way, a place was loved but it couldn’t really love back. The car, however, seemed almost fond of him. It played classical musical when Aziraphale asked it nicely, the horn honked merrily rather than with the aggression Crowley usually forced from it on the rare occasions he thought it worth using at all. The travel sweets and the new yellow detailing, the comfortable and warm leather seats, the safe driving speed – Aziraphale could feel the Bentley desperate to please him.

It was only after Crowley checked in through the radio that Aziraphale realised what was going on. It seemed mad to even think it, but it was the only logical answer. Crowley’s love, not just for the Bentley but for Aziraphale specifically, was laced into the fabric of the car, so strongly it was echoing back. He would never have believed it, but the same feeling he got from the car was threaded under Crowley’s words. He might have complained about the yellow paint and the travel sweets, but really he was checking in to make sure Aziraphale was alright. After millennia of existing together, Aziraphale had learnt to read between the lines. So when Crowley asked him to drive faster, he knew that didn’t mean put yourself in danger to get my car back to me quicker, it meant get yourself back to me as fast as possible, because I feel better when I know you’re safe. Aziraphale knew better than to point it out, but he also wasn’t going to protest – he loved a good caper, but he knew he’d also feel better when he was back at the bookshop. Back with Crowley.

[whohasthecards]

Just imagining, that in a scenario where Mav adopts Hangman or realizes that Jake is his son and takes him in. And it was rough at first as they get to know one another, the growing pains and all that, but they eventually found stability, strength, and love with one another.

But one day, Hangman did something that scared the shit out of Mav, that pissed him off so badly that he starts berating Hangman, shouting and all that. Hangman and the others have never seen Mav mad often, but Mav was just so terrified.

Jake just stands there jaw clenched, as he took it all. Scared that he fucked it up for good, putting his hands behind his back to make sure that Mav doesn't see them trembling.

Eventually Mav ends with a, "What can you say for yourself, Lieutenant Seresin!?"

And Jake opens and clenches his mouth shut, like a gaping fish, brow furrowed, but eyes looking straight forward, as if he was staring at nothing or at the wall behind Mav. Looking straight ahead, yet no where at the same time.

Everyone waits with baited breathe, waiting for Hangman to fight back, retort, or snap back with snarky comments because it's Hangman.

"I'm sorry, da-" Jake audibly snapped his jaw shut, wincing, "I'm sorry Captain Mitchell, it won't happen again." Jake paused, "I'm sorry." He said the added apology quietly, but it reverberated loudly throughout the room.

Mav took a deep breathe before dismissing all of them, leaving him in the empty classroom to collapse on his desk. Wondering if he had ruined the relationship with the son he just got. Thinking if he could have handled it better. Was his son scared of him, now?

Jake's limbs was heavy as he trudged back to his apartment. He was wracked with guilt, wondering why was he so abrasive, why did he always push, push, and push. Why did he fuck up so constantly. Why was he so Hangman and why couldn't he be better?

He went through the motions of cleaning himself up after he went home and curled up in bed to just, sleep the sadness away.

Mav lugged himself into Ice's office, where his husband was working on his desk and he moves behind his chair and wraps his arms around the man, burying is face in Ice's hair, as if to hide his shame.

"What's wrong, Mav?"

"I-I think I scared, Jake," Mav mumbled. "He couldn't even call me, dad."

Ice pulls the whole story out of Mav before he tries to comfort him saying that he and Jake will work things out. How fathers and sons always will have their ups and downs. Fathers are always scared that their sons will turn out too much like them, after all. Also, they are still captain and lieutenant, Jake was probably trying to keep rank.

The last part even Ice said hesitantly, Mav was never shy about letting his kids call him what they want. Neither was Jake.

"Oh god, I-I left him, Ice, I didn't talk to him, I--"

"Shh, maybe so, but you both needed some space, you can go to him, now, bring him home." Ice said, turning to pull Mav fully in his arms. "Everything will be fine."

Mav ends up outside of Jake's housing. Ice waiting in the car, he knocks. No answer. He knocks again. No answer. He gets worried, checking back to see if Jake's car really was there. He grabs a spare key and opens the door, the apartment eerily quiet.

He never notice how bare the apartment really was, Jake always took a lot of space.

His boots were there, though, so were his car and house keys.

He walked into his son's bedroom, softening at the sight of him curled up in bed. He moved closer sitting on the edge as he ran a hand through his son's hair, frowning at the warmth emanating from the boy's forehead. Although, he did see the boy's face softened.

Jake's eyes fluttered open, blearily peering up at him, "Dad?" He asked softly tugging at Mav's heart, inspiring him to lean down and kiss his forehead.

My son.

"Hey kiddo, you good?"

Jake blinked up at the soft kiss, before the day's events came rushing back to him, "Sir I--"

"You never have to call me, sir, okay? It's fine if you don't want to call me dad," Mav said, choking out the last part. "But, you'll always be my son, even when I'm mad, or even if you are mad, you will always be my son, unless you never want to be again."

Jake stared up, suddenly fully awake before jolting up and quickly wrapping Mav in a tight hug. The angle was awkward, but Mav didn't care. His son was in his arms.

Mav tightened his hold around his boy, cradling his head on the crook of his shoulder. Hushing him softly.

"I'm sorry, dad," Jake muttered.

"It'll be okay, we're okay," Mav muttered, holding his son a bit more tighter.

[sk3tchisworld]

Well, this aged like cow manure. That is to say, that I have shit to show for it, but I made something I can grow good stuff in.

Metaphors aside, I didn't realize the deadline was at midnight of September 30th instead of noon or even midnight of October. Haha, well that went as well as expected.

Sleepy September, my monthly game jam, is here!

Welcome to the 7th monthly game jam that will be hosted on my itch.io page!

In this game jam, your objective is to create a game where rest and coziness are the focus! But what are some examples?

Well, you could create a game where the main focus is to actually catalogue the players sleep so they maintain a solid schedule, or it could be about a super cozy town with a comfy inn and you're the innkeeper, or it could be a game about farming or tending to animals! All that needs to be present are some comfy, cozy vibes!

Your games can be tabletop games OR digital games. Anything that gets your mind in the realm of game design is all that matters to me! 

IMPORTANT: All games made at any point in time are allowed, but it is HIGHLY encouraged to make games only while this game jam is active. This is a chance to exercise your creative skills AND get your game out there, not just one or the other!

ALSO IMPORTANT: Under no circumstances are people who submit games with bigoted tones, ideologies, or dogwhistles allowed in this game jam. If your work is bigoted in any way, it can and will be rejected for submission. You have no place in my community, and please do not play my games at your tables. Also, please no NSFW submissions (you know what I mean by that).  

(This is part of a game jam series where, every month, I will host a game jam focused on a theme that begins with the same letter as the month. Please feel free, even after the game jam ends, to make your game if you didn’t meet the deadline. I believe in you!)

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This jam runs through the end of the month, so get in your games while you can! Happy making!

[bigcats-birds-and-books]

so....ignoring the fact that it took me three (3) weeks to get through um. twenty-six (26) pages. it's totally reasonable to try to speedrun revisions of the next thirty-two (32) in like six (6) hours tomorrow, right, Asking For A Friend,

[clownhavoc]

I am incredibly proud of this cover I made for a project so you guys have to look at it :3

[wall-eye]

Lottie with a little ghost cat, for @silly-goofy-mood for the npc draw and scrawl over at @uc-fan-events! i had to use a image of haley and his cat for a loose pose reference, its too perfect

[screamingcrows]

Everything for Zandicktober is queued and ready to go I'm never doing that again and as a treat for myself I think I shall write some harrowing angst now (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)

[pochapal]

girl who deserves a gold sticker for having a mature and measured relationship conversation instead of letting the self sabotage tendencies win

[paimonial-rage]

Random question, but anyone want to do a writing exchange?

[bookwyrminspiration]

current writing mood

[lengthy-artery]

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