#sleep deprived me makes some valid points

[very-gay-poet]

Harry’s Patronus/Animagus isn’t a Stag.  (When I wrote this I was severely sleep deprived and just wrote this out so I could stop thinking about it so i apologise if I don’t make a lot of sense, repeat stuff or spelling errors. I also do loose my point somewhere in here but be patient I do get it back at the end enjoy!)

A stag is James Potter’s animagus and most likely his Patronus. 

James and Harry are not the same person. 

I hate the idea of Harry’s animagus being a stag since that is just not Harry! 

Stags symbolise gentleness, innocence, intuition, and unconditional love, as well as safety, strength, and protection. Basically everything we know as to be James Potter. 

His unconditional love with Remus, his protection over Sirius when he ran way, safety and strength is practically his moto and what the rest of the marauders see in James. His strength and the feeling of safety around him is what made so popular. 

Harry’s Patronus/Animagus isn’t a Stag. 

This maybe a bit of a stretch, but idc, Harry first did a Patronus when he was 13. 

When he was 13, he knew fairly a lot about his parents. One thing we really know is that his dad (as Harry thought at the time) was put on a pedestal as a man with no flaws. Harry had met his parents best friends (Remus) and obviously heard a lot about his dad mostly from off handed things like them looking alike.

Harry continuously takes pride when someone’s says this to him in his first couple years in the wizarding world. 

But what happened when this pedestal broke? What happened when he found out that his father, a man to be described as the closest thing to perfect, had a lot of flaws (the main one being his arrogance). 

In the beginning of OoTP Harry is fully able to produce a Patronus (albeit with a bit of trouble but the kid had still been processing Cedric’s death and Voldemort coming back to life and the graveyard thing so give him a break) but by the time Harry saw snapes memory and went as far to think that Lilly was forced to marry James, he didn’t (as far as I’m aware of) produce a Patronus. 

By the sixth and seventh book (when he was questioning who his father was and if he could’ve been too naive) he wasn’t able to produce a Patronus at all. 

In my opinion, Harry’s Patronus came from the love and admiration of James. It isn’t even too far fetched. 

Tonks and Snape’s both changed to match the ones they love. 

Tonks’s turned into a wolf and Snape’s to a doe.  

If Tonks had an animagus form it 100% would not be a wolf. It’s the same with Snape. It would most likely (said by the author herself) be a Bat. 

Your animagus and Patronus is not the same thing. 

As I’ve said, Stags/deers represent gentleness, innocence, intuition, and unconditional love, as well as safety, strength, and protection. This does not suit Harry at all. 

Gentleness is not Harry’s forte when it comes to his hot temper, for innocence he has seen more then most adult wizards have and witnessed so many people die, was tourchered by the most powerful man of the age aka his parents murderer, following the death of a classmate/companion, and the person who’s the reason he’s an orphan cut off his hand to rebirth said murderer, many people were there and laughed, etc etc (I could litterly go on all day), the boy is about as observant as a brick wall, unconditional love I can get behind yes he shares that trait, boy has never been safe before in his life what you on about, strength yes he does have a ton of strength for not just getting a gun and shooting bloody old Voldy in his none existent nose and yeah so pretty good with that, protection is a hot topic, since this could mean one of a couple of things:

Lilly’s protection 

People y’know dying for him 

The boy has never really been protected since he was one sooo

As for all reasons above, Harry Patronus is a stag, not because it fits him, it’s besucase he loves his dad goddammit!!!!  AND IN THE DEATHLY HALLOWS MY POINT IS LITTERLY PROVEN WHEN HARRY SAYS: “The fact of his own survival burned inside him, a talisman against them, as though his father’s stag kept guardian in his heart.”

FATHERS STAG!

A better fit for Harry, in my opinion, would be a black cat. 

A black cat, to many, is an omen of bad luck. Is some other cultures it’s a sign of good luck however. And we can sure as hell say that his boy has both on his side simultaneously and is fighting each other constantly. 

When asking Google what a cat symbolises it says: 

“The cat symbolizes grace, intelligence, cunning, and independence. The cat is a fascinating animal that cultures around the world have long revered. They are agile and nimble, able to move with silence and stealth. At the same time, they are also fiercely independent, choosing to live on their own terms.” 

Let’s break this apart. 

Grace 

Grace means, in a short form, elegance. 

Elegance is something Harry definitely has, just not on two feet. 

When Harry’s is on his broom, playing or practicing Quidditch, he is extremely skilled, earning his spot of the youngest seeker in a century. In his first Quidditch match, Harry won for gryffindor by standing on his broom, somehow balancing his weight perfectly, and was able to catch the snitch. (This may be only in the movie sorry).

Harry’s skills on his broom and in Quidditch are to thank his ability to have such grace on a broom. 

Intelligence is something Harry 100% does not lack. “—not a bad mind either—There’s talent, oh my goodness yes—“ - the sorting hat, 1991. 

“Not a bad mind either” is to reference that Harry would’ve been a good fit for any house, as in the it referenced all four houses, and the simplification of people in each house value. 

Harry is also the person to completely understand  Dumbledore’s plan in the deathly hallows so quickly I was honestly shocked

When I read DH I was actually very shocked on how fast Harry picked up on Dumbledore’s plan. He said, almost word for word, what his plan was and Ron and Hermione (mainly Hermione) didn’t believe it. 

It was clear here, by just this example, that Harry has far more open mindedness than his friends and intelligence in general. 

As he was the one to figure out that Voldy used the R.O.R to hide the Diadem. 

Cunning. 

Cunning means having or showing skill in achieving one's ends by deceit or evasion. 

This can be shown when Harry and Ron (in the CoS) were going to Moaning Myrtles bathroom when Harry made the quick excuse saying that they were visiting Hermione in the hospital wing. 

“Having or showing skill in achieving one’s end by deceit or evasion” 

And he was supposed to be in Slytherin! 

Independence is clearly not an issue when it comes to Harry. 

He was alone for ten years and he didn’t turn out half bad! 

He spent ten years alone and in CoS and GoF he spent them years almost completely alone. He clearly doesn’t mind being alone (as seen through the series as a whole). 

“The cat is a fascinating animal that cultures around the world have long revered.” 

“The boy who lived is a fascinating person that cultures around the world have long revered.” 

I CANT MAKE THIS STUFF UP IT JUST FITS SO PERFECTLY!!!! 

“They are agile and nimble, able to move with silence and stealth”

in the CoS he tells Fred and George when they’re picking the lock to his cupboard to get his wizard stuff that the bottom step creaks. It seems he understands how to to be silent in the Dursleys house at all times. 

In Ps he says something like he wished he nicked one of Dudley’s watches so he knew when the Dursleys were asleep so he could sneak into the kitchen. 

He clearly knows this house inside and out to know what time, the exact time, the Dursleys go to bed. 

Nimble is an easy one too. As seen in reason cunning fits him.

Nimble means along the lines of quick thinking. 

As seen beautifully presented to us when Snape wants to see Harry’s potions book after what happened in the bathroom with malfoy (when he almost killed him). 

Harry quickly asks ron if he could Borrow his potions book.

“Rooni Wizlab?” 

“That’s my nickname.” 

And goes on to explain what a nickname is. 

“choosing to live on their own terms.” 

I don’t think I even need to say anything about this because that’s just the definition of Harry James Potter there. 

In conclusion: 

Harry’s Patronus is a stag because he loves his dad and his animagus is a Black Cat okay goodbye

[anyydidi]

WRITING THIS POST BECAUSE I'M SO SICK OF PEOPLE MISCHARACTERIZING FORD!!!!!!!!!

Before we begin, everyone is entitled to their opinion. If you really think Ford wouldn't truly care, you do you.

That being said, I feel like people who claim that Ford wouldn't do a single thing to bring Stan back if their places were switched do not understand his character at all.

Don't get me wrong, I don't think that he would open the portal. At least not right away. The one thing I agree with is that Ford wouldn't put the life of his brother above the whole planet like Stan did. He realizes the threat of the portal and Bill too much to do that.

But have people forgotten that Ford also loves his brother? Yeah, he was angry, bitter and resentful, but he wouldn't have just let Stan die in the multiverse. Especially since that would be entirely his fault he got stuck there in the first place.

For people thinking, "But Ford was too blinded by rage! He didn't care for Stan until after Weirdmaggedon!", have you seen the show? Have you read the journal? Through everything that happened, Ford kept a photo (tattered and worn, obviously taken out a lot) of him and his brother in his left, inner breast pocket which is the one closest to the heart. If that wasn't enough, for those who haven't read the journal, Ford kept reminiscing about and mentioning his brother before the portal incident. Even though those lines were often crossed out, it was obvious that at least unconsiously he had Stan in mind a lot. And at the end of the journal, it is written that he worked day and night, to the point of passing out, to bring Stan's memories (and essencially Stan himself) back. (Oh and have we forgotten about the absolutely shattered expression he had when he erased Stan's memories? You don't look like that for a person you don't deeply care about).

Still not enough to believe that Ford cared about Stan before Stan's sacrifice?

Let's talk about the fact that when Ford was at his lowest, that being paranoid, sleep deprived, tortured by Bill, drowned in guilt, and completely alone, he reached out to Stan? He says it himself, "I needed help, someone I could trust." After everything, he still trusted Stan to an extent and believed him to be his last hope. You don't give trust like that to people you truly hate.

Ford was self-absorbed and egocentric, but also hurt and betrayed. That feeling came from a misconception, but that doesn't make it any less valid. It is understandable that he acted towards Stan the way he did, with venom and bitterness. But we can be angry at people we love and still care for their well-being.

How I said earlier, I don't think Ford would really open the portal. He wouldn't risk the entire world for Stanley. But I do think he would do anything in his power to be able to bring Stan back safely. You cannot be telling me that he'd be able to live with the guilt and not do anything about it if he could. After all, in his head, it would be his fault. He got tricked by Bill, he built the portal, he made Stan come to him and showed him the portal and he wasn't able to let go of the journal and fought Stan for it. I'm convinced he'd still throw some blame at Stan for some of the fight to make himself feel better at first, but after some time he would just blame himself completely (the same way I think Stan did with the science fair incident). The guilt for all of that would eat him alive.

Let's not forget, Stanley worked for 30 years, basically half his life to bring Stanford home and I believe Ford would be willing to do the same. He would just go about it differently. He would either try to get rid of the threat of Bill and then be willing to upgrade the portal and turn it on again, or maybe try to find a completely different way to get Stan back from the multiverse, or in the end something entirely different, I'm not fully sure.

What I am sure of is that Ford wouldn't just let Stan be stranded in the multiverse without doing absolutely nothing. Maybe he wouldn't succeed, maybe Stan would actually have to find his own way back home because Stanford wouldn't be able to find a solution without risking their entire universe. But Ford would at least try, give it his all, because despite everything, he still loves his brother. Differently than Stan loves him, because Ford is a different person than Stan, but he still does.

So I beg you, people. Stop taking Ford's complex character from him. He can be a selfish, self-centered asshole, but he's not heartless.

[thewintercorner]

I saw your post discussing worldenders, and then I saw a someone else's post pointing out how the 1000 withers in season 2 was PARROT'S IDEA, and Spoke was the one who was trying to reel Parrot back, and then I saw Parrot's unstable video (hunted by minecraft's deadliest players), and I had this lightbulb moment and I NEEEEEEED to talk to someone abt this even though I might be wrong and just sleep deprived

Parrot could technically count as Lifesteal's first worldender.

Except in his case, his motives for being a worldender would not be out of understanding lifesteal's cycles, but out of pure rage and desire for vengeance. I've always thought that his biggest character flaw was his tunnel vision towards his ambitions, but having him tunnel in on vengeance against Clown in S2 basically set off all of the cycles that came afterwards because of how devastating it was. I was heavily reminded of this fact while watching Parrot's unstable video.

While not on Spoke or even Mapic/Zam levels, I'd argue that Parrot was the progenitor of even the concept of worldenders. Sure, Clown became the deadliest player, and he dominated the server for a whole, making it super competetive, but Parrot's revenge path set the tone of revenge and destruction for the rest of the seasons after that, and that was how Spoke became a worldender, and how all the lifesteal season endings after that became just as chaotic.

hello anon i have been thinking about this ask for weeks

i've also gone back through and watched spoke's s2 mega vid a couple times recently and my thoughts mainly revolve around how you define a worldender (in terms of lifesteal, at least). if you just take the word at face value, you get something approximating:

world: a planet or universe; in the context of minecraft, a server

ender: one who ends things

worldender: one who ends worlds

which is a totally fair definition! i mean, it's what the word says, right? by that definition, parrot is absolutely a worldender; he's the guy that (co-)ended the world.

however, in the context of lifesteal, i think it's important to define the term a little differently. that definition technically includes whichever admin pulls the plug on the server itself; if you wanted to stretch it, you could even say the withers themselves are that kind of worldender.

we could restrict it to people who do things, who carry out their actions and/or lives, in pursuit of intentionally ending the world. that's a lot closer to what we mean, and is also a valid definition! parrot also falls under this; he was definitely trying to end the world.

however, i'd like to make one further distinction: between people ending the world because they want to and people doing it because they have to -- in other words, people doing it in service of the cycles. you can kind of think of the distinction as worldkillers and worldenders; worldkillers do it of their own accord and desires, as a choice they alone make. worldenders do it because they know they must; someone has to put the world down, lest it agonizingly wither away and bring all of them down with it.

this is where parrot splits off (in my view). i think there's a fundamental difference between his motives and spoke's, even if the result is the same. i don't know that spoke really wanted to end the world, but he saw where things were going and knew someone had to. parrot wanted the world dead.

essentially what i'm saying is parrot was doing the right thing for the wrong reasons. he did end the world, but he wasn't doing it as a Lifesteal Worldender with an understanding of the cycles and why that was a good thing to do, why it was necessary. to me, part of the essence of being a true worldender is having this understanding, being able to meditate on your decision and still come to the same conclusion time and time again, world after world. parrot isn't able to do that.

i also think it's interesting how he relies on spoke to see his vision unfold. i think this speaks to some broader havocduo dynamics, for one, but it also rings to me as parrot knowing that he is not able to end the world himself. he has the vision, has the plan, but he knows it's out of his scope. i don't think it's lack of dedication, either; parrot was the driving force behind so many of the poggies' big traps over the course of the season. and yet, he tells spoke "you're the only one who can do this."

i think (whether this is something parrot knew or not) this comes down to really a simple difference between them: parrot wants an apocalypse. spoke's willing to become one.

you can kind of feel this in the final fight. parrot's concerned about dying, still, about getting jumped and losing hearts; spoke's getting hunted for much of the time as well, but he doesn't care as long as he gets the withers down. parrot says at one point "spoke, look what you've done!" and spoke replies "this is our mission! our mission is complete." parrot also continuously mentions m.o.b as their enemies in this, as if the reality that this event is much, much bigger than their war hasn't really set it.

the fact that spoke goes out to his own final wither really exemplifies this, i think. dying to your own apocalypse is an extraordinary show of acceptance and of relinquishment, of saying "i did all this and it will end the world and i am proud." parrot is still fighting to stay alive the entire time, even after the final wither. spoke goes out with it, a death for a birth, because he knows his work is done, and he knows the world will die, and he chooses to go out on his own terms instead of fighting for life on a sinking ship. parrot wanted the apocalypse, but he wasn't ready to die in it, wasn't ready for it to take down his allies just the same as his enemies. spoke was.

i guess as a nice, succinct way to summarize all of this: parrot wanted to end a war, definitively. spoke understood he was ending the entire world.

as a final note, i don't want to discredit parrot as the genesis. i believe that every blossoming worldender needs a catalyst to push them to their full revelation and potential, and i think parrot very much acted as that for spoke. parrot was, in many ways, the reason season 2 ended, but he is no more responsible for the apocalypse itself than the chemical signals that tell the puppet master's hand to move.

(these are, of course, only my opinions; believe whatever you want to about the block guys :))

[ennard-is-near]

As promised, my thoughts on The Week Before!

(Spoiler free first, spoilers under the cut. Also long post warning)

It was objectively not a good book. Most fun I’ve ever had reading anything, though.

I’m going to start calling him “Ralph Scott” as his full name. At first I hated the name Ralph but it actually grew on me over time. I think Scott is a valid last name and he doesn’t have one in canon so it’s Scott now. I might just call him Phone Guy sometimes though.

If I had to pick one FNaF song to represent this book it would be Stay Calm, absolutely no question. Do with this what you will.

I really enjoy his relationship with the restaurant and animatronics. It’s pretty realistic imo, he always seemed like he was pretty fond of the brand and had loved it and worked there for a long time.

Coppelia is so y/n coded I don’t know how else to explain this. She feels like a self-insert or fan child. Like the way they describe her outfit reminded me of good ol’ Wattpad fic. This is not good or bad, simply a statement. I actually liked her.

Game continuity stuff:

At first it sort of struck me as odd that Ralph says this is his “first week on the night shift” because in FNaF 2 he mentions that he is going to take the shift after Jeremy. But then he mentions that the restaurant closed down after the Bite of ‘87 so it actually sort of makes sense. It took me a minute to figure that out, though.

As I mentioned before, they are mean to Jeremy? This is genuinely hilarious to me. Like at one point Phone Guy mentioned that staff kept saying “You can’t spell team without meat” right after the Bite and his takeaway is just “that’s not very nice but at least they paid attention at orientation.” The first time he brings it up he asks what Jeremy did to provoke the animatronic (my friend said “what was he wearing?” And I think that’s hilarious). He says that the press blew the whole thing way out of proportion but he says that following “he doesn’t talk anymore. Or do much else” so idk man. Ralph just seems more annoyed than anything, like he’s mad it got the restaurant closed down. He does sort of care a little bit, I guess. It depends on what sentence you’re reading.

(My friend also said that it’s sort of the thing you have to joke about, like if that happened at your work you’d have to be an idiot about it [especially bc it was probably over 5 years ago] and while I completely agree, I feel like he’s mean to Jeremy personally a couple times and that’s not very nice. He was just doing his job, man. This is so funny to me genuinely. I will never stop thinking about it)

There were a couple Bite of ‘83 mentions, which I was not expecting, but was very exciting to me. Ralph going up on stage and thinking about why people aren’t allowed up there…he called 1983 on the phone and it was just screaming and Bite of ‘83 audio (and it was different from the games?) which was wild.

I loved that he said they used to call the Bite of ‘83 “The Big Bite” until ‘87 happened. And he likens it to how they used to call WW1 “The Great War” until WW2. Incredible comparison.

Something that I don’t remember Ralph bringing up directly is the MCI. There’s obviously references to it, but I don’t recall him ever going “wow remember when those kids went missing?” Like he does with The Bites. Not a huge deal but definitely a small thing I noticed.

It’s me. It’s me. It’s me. It’s me. It’s me. The way they wrote the it’s me thing actually sent me to hell and back. Some interesting implications as to what that could mean if it’s happening to Ralph too. I think the way it was described the “it’s me” echo like, taking up his whole mind and actually hurting is so fascinating to me. It’s me. It’s me. It’s me.

He refers to himself as “Phone Guy” at one point, or at least says that that’s what other employees call him because he records the training tapes and welcome messages. I actually liked that, it was late at night when I read it but my sleep deprived brain thought it was a cool nod to the fandom.

He also records the messages for Michael (/the next employee) in the books, which is so fun. They used the word-for-word transcript from the games which I also thought was really cool. I’ve always been a fan of those opening phone calls, his FNaF 1 stuff makes you really get attached to the guy and then he fucking dies which is always deviating. Putting them in exactly like the games was a good call.

Also also his night four message recording was really well written actually. It might have been my favorite part of the whole book. Him talking to Coppelia in a non-canon death was really sweet too

They mentioned Susie being Chica and Jeremy being Bonnie by name. I like this. Ralph saying Susie just by vibes was fine, but I kinda want to know how Bronwen knew that Jeremy is Bonnie? Like I know she’s done a lot of research but how does she know which specific kid is which specific animatronic? That seems like a hard thing to figure out, even if you know everything about the case. Eh, whatever.

They kept just… listing the animatronics? Like the book will go “Look out for Freddy, Bonnie, Chica and Foxy.” Over and over again. Like yeah, I got it.

Phone Guy

They made him a boy failure. And a lame dad. Absolutely perfect. He says the same stupid fucking joke every time even though nobody’s around. He practices making stupid jokes and puns so he can tell them to his daughter later.

He loves his daughter so much, also. Like all he thinks about her all the time and he checks on her immediately when he gets home. He wants work at her school? He keeps telling her never ever to go to Freddy’s. In the non-canon death where he calls her and he says, “I love you. Don’t come looking for me.” Aughhggg.

A couple of his deaths were genuinely so funny. The one where he’s just mixing shit in the closet and the door gets jammed? That wasn’t even an animatronic that’s just basic workplace safety. The one where he’s being killed (by Chica I think?) and his blood is going all over the floor and he goes “I just cleaned that!” Hey man, there are more important things happening. The one where he puts the cupcake up to his face and it like…eats him? Why did he do that?

There are also a couple non-death endings that are great. The one where he just accidentally gets locked in a room is pretty good. He can get sued by Fazbear which is really funny. Coppelia can get eaten by The Cupcake which is iconic.

Foxy is his favorite. We find this out when he’s being killed by Foxy and he goes “But you were my favorite!” Foxy is also Michael’s favorite. Also nobody asked but he would have been mine if I was a kid at Freddy’s.

I like when he walks in to a room covered in blood and goes “It must have been an animal!” You and I both know it wasn’t, why did he say that? Also he throws about the blood.

Other characters

Coppelia is so good. She’s so middle-schooler and I mean that in a good way. She’s well written in a “that’s what twelve-year-olds are like” way. During the ending where he calls her and says he loves her and she goes “I know, Dad” like she’s rolling her eyes. Okay go off Coppelia. But also she clearly loves her dad she’s just a preteen. I don’t like that Phone Guy calls her Pel, though. That’s stupid.

I don’t like Bronwen. She’s underdeveloped and as she stands in the book just completely unnecessary. She’s a cool character in theory, a reporter who’s obsessed with the mystery at Freddy’s, but she probably couldn’t work in a book like this. I feel like her only purpose was to give Ralph a quest, phone and dead body to find. He probably could have gotten those things on his own, and it actually would have been better for his character I think. She feels like a self-insert character from someone who won a “get your own character featured in a book” contest. She’s not hugely important or prevalent in the plot, to the point where she could be cut and it would probably make the story better. But as her own character, in a book where she was a main or very prominent side character, she could be very interesting. She’s just not here.

WILLIAM AFTON?? Okay, well, maybe. Probably. He’s only in there a couple times, as “Dave” the maintenance guy who knows everything about the animatronics and is annoyed that you called him at 4am. Definitely William Afton, which is very cool and interesting that he’s still around and slaying at the time of FNaF 1. Idk if I’m going to include that in my personal brain timeline but whatever, still good info to have.

Williams presence does raise a question that has always bugged me, how do people not recognize him? Like I get that maybe it’s like Clark Kent where you’re not looking for William Afton so you won’t recognize him, but I feel like this is a little different. Because Dave Miller isn’t some unassuming maintenance worker while William Afton is some huge famous, supervillain or something. Dave Miller is a guy who knows everything about the animatronics and William Afton is the guy who made the animatronics. And they look the same? He’s not even bothering with glasses or anything. And Phone Guy has to have seen William a few times because he’s implied to be higher up (at least a manager or something) at the company in 1987 so he has to have seen William a few times. And Ralph’s gone bowling with “Dave” before, so why was he never like “Huh I wonder if this is William Afton considering they look the same and have the same job and nobody has seen Afton in a long time.” He’s so Sweeney Todd core.

There’s a brief mention of a character named Mrs. Anderson who has a dead daughter, and to me that daughter is Susie. (Not Cassidy bc I have a different family for Cassidy that I can’t get into rn but trust me.) But that’s so sad actually, that she is basically Coppelia’s babysitter bc she misses her own daughter. I feel like something that FNaF could benefit from is more little character insights like this. Just getting a brief “Mrs. Anderson” and seeing how she’s handling her kid dying. This could not be Susie’s mom, and I’m just seeing connections where there aren’t any, but I think she probably is meant to be.

Okay I’m done

I really liked this book guys. It was worth sneaking a copy of into my house. I had so much fun with it, even if I just read it back-to-front like a normal book instead of “playing” it. (Idk why they kept pretending it was a video game, it’s clearly a book, but whatever.) there were a few very fun details that I really loved and it was a good addition to the canon of the series. I won’t incorporate everything into the lore I made up in my head, but I will definitely take some of it. I really enjoyed it, I really did.

[danoberry]

★ object of your affection (hank devereaux x reader) SMUT 18+

description: after many “private” sessions with your professor, you finally get what you’ve been wanting.

content: SMUT 18+!!!, age gap (reader is in her 20s), use of the word “kiddo” a lot, kinda cum play, teasing, more stuff but it’s unimportant and it’s 12:30am

pronouns: you/yours (female reader)

wc: 2.7k

afab genitalia

AN:

hi guys! i’m really back! new content, woo! when i fade out of my interests, there’s a gap of time where i really have no interests. after i stopped being OBSESSED with paul dano, i finished breaking bad and watched better call saul, which, of course, sparked a huge interest and an infatuation with bob odenkirk. with that being said, here is the new fic. i hope everyone, even my religiously devoted dano fans, enjoy!

The sound of your foot against the floor tip-tapped with the cadence of a song running through your mind. You stood at Professor Devereaux’s door, waiting for the one-on-one session that you had asked him for, for the fourth week in a row. After his outburst in class, you had noticed he had been more stressed than ever before. You wouldn’t have cared as much if you didn’t have such a good bond with him, but with your similar humor (and consistent effort) you both got along very well. It was never your intention to become so close to your much older professor, but lack of friends and need for validation led you to this friendship.

Professor Devereaux was an ethical man. So you thought, at least until the outburst. For what it was worth, you agreed with what he was preaching. The college he taught at, the one you went to, was mediocrity’s capital. There was nothing special about it. What he said was right. The idiotic kid who kept dragging on the situation knew nothing about the man you knew. Someone practical. Someone witty. Someone caring. So as you stood there tapping your feet, you thought about how off-topic this one-on-one session with your professor could get. Or on the contrary, how off-topic you could make it. 

“Hey, Y/N,” you heard a voice say as you looked up from your feet. 

“Hey, Professor,” you replied, getting out of the doorway and watching as Prof. Devereaux grabbed the keys from his pocket and unlocked the door. 

“Listen, kid, I’m super sleep deprived. I’ll look at your paper to the best of my ability, but I can’t promise world class advice.” 

“That’s okay. I kinda just wanted to eat somewhere besides the cafeteria.” 

He replied sarcastically, “Go right ahead, I’ll sit and watch you.” 

He sat in his chair across from you as you grabbed the salad from your bag. You pulled up your paper on your laptop, beginning to eat. 

“Jeez, you're making me hungry now,” he said, laughing and looking at his computer. 

“Yeah, well, I’d offer you some but I don’t want any cross-contamination going on.” 

“I’ll live. I think I have a vanilla Coke in the fridge out there. Be right back,” he opened the door, “before I die of hunger!” 

You ate your salad as you waited for him to get back, aimlessly scrolling on Pinterest. When he did come back, he carried two cans of Coke in his hands, one for him, and one for you. 

“See, I’m not as selfish as everyone is saying,” he said. 

“Definitely not. Thanks, Professor.” 

He sat down and leaned against the desk. “You gonna show me your paper?”  

“Oh yeah, here.” You flipped the screen and showed him what you were working on, and he invited you to sit on the other side of the desk with him, pointing out details that you didn’t need or needed to add. You took a sip of your Coke and grabbed a mint from across the desk after you were done with the salad. Slowly, you unconsciously started to scoot closer to him, closing the gap between your bodies substantially. You looked up at his gaze upon your screen, studying his facial features. You studied his hair and his beard and its color. You watched his eyes flick from each side of the screen as he read. Right then and there, you reached a breaking point. God, you couldn’t bear looking at such a handsome face and not being able to mess with it. He was so successful and attractive and intelligent. You wanted him to ruin you. 

You leaned closer to him, pretending to read your paper again. Slowly, you began to rub his shoulder as he read. He didn’t tense up or ask for you to stop, responses you could have received. Instead, he kept as he was. 

“What’re you doing?” He asked absentmindedly.

“I don’t know. I’ll stop-“ 

“No, it’s fine. I was just wondering if you could get the other shoulder.” 

You paused for a moment. 

“Uh, yes sir.”

“Don’t feel obligated. You just do it very well.” 

You blushed hard. “Thank you,” you nearly whispered. 

“Thank you. Could you get the blinds too?” 

You nodded your head while you got up, letting your hand linger on his shoulder until you couldn’t touch him anymore. As you shut the blinds, your professor looked over at you, tracking your body with his eyes. When you walked back over to him, you massaged his shoulders as he finished his reading and revising. You leaned closer to his head and watched your screen that he had control over. 

“There you are,” he said, taking his hands off of your keyboard, lifting one to rub your fingers that were resting on his shoulder. “Sit down, let me talk to you for a moment.” 

You let go of his shoulders and sat down next to him. “You’re one of my most promising students,” he started. “You’re not like these… ignoramuses I deal with every day…”

“Thank you, professor,” you said, nervous from the intimacy of the conversation. He leaned back and smiled. 

“I think we can get rid of the formalities now, don’t you think…? You can call me Hank when we’re alone.” 

You nodded your head, still blushing and timid from the conversation. 

“You don’t have to act so shy,” he teased. “I know what you’re trying to do. To be frank, it’s working… if that gives you any validation. You want one-on-one ‘lessons’ with me after class almost every week, and all we do is sit and talk. I’ve caught on. Scooting close to me while I read your essays, which I know you write just so we can have these ‘lessons.’ I know you want to mess with me. You’ve got me right where you want me.” 

You sat there in awe, the numbness in your thighs dialing down as you got more comfortable with the fact that he knew you were attracted to him. Hank leaned closer to you, and instead of letting him take initiative, you leaned into him and met his lips between his beard. He tasted the mint flavor on your tongue. 

“What was that about ‘cross contamination?’ Wintergreen, huh? How’d you know that was my favorite?” 

“Lucky guess.”

You kissed him again and felt the softness of his beard against your skin. It was a new feeling, something you had never experienced. You had only been with men your age. You melted in the thought; you were able to kiss such an experienced man, one who even knew how to speak to you so sweetly. You swooned over Hank’s quiet groans, ones he made when he was out of breath. Inching closer to the man, touring your hand up his knee and onto his thigh, he whispered to you, “Right here,” having you straddle his lap over the seat. He told you ‘atta girl’ when you adjusted your hips on top of him. 

“Jesus Christ, kiddo. I don’t know how you expect me to last long if I’m getting this undone from just touching you.”

“Who knows, maybe I could teach an old dog new tricks today,” you laughed. Hank kissed your neck, tickling you and making you giggle even more. 

“Who are you calling old?” 

“More like… mature,” you said, still giggling from the ticklish neck kisses. 

“Mature, huh? I guess you wanna know how someone so mature can make you feel then?” 

“I think I’d like that very much.” 

Hank took hold of your pants’ button and unclasped it, afterwards unzipping your zipper. You stood up quickly to kick them off, displaying a perfect pair of lace panties you had worn every single time you had a “session” with him. Hank unbuckled his belt, dropping it to the floor, and he undid his button and zipper. 

“I bet you wore those underwear just for me, didn’t you? How dirty.” 

“But you like them, right?” You asked jokingly, turning around squeezing your ass in your hands. You straddled Hank again and kissed him. “Talk about dirty, you’re about to have sex with one of your students in your office.” 

“Trust me,” he said, “if I could take you home with me right now, I would.” 

“And what would you do with me if you did?” You asked him, grinding a bit harder against his crotch than you were before.

“A lot more than what we can do right now.” 

“Why don’t you give it your all, then?”

“Pshh, ‘give it my all.’ You’re really asking for it, huh?” 

“Hank, I’m on my knees.”

You kissed him again and rubbed against his crotch, making sure he could feel the wetness seeping through your panties. Hank hummed when he felt you graze his cock. You stood up and watched as he pulled down his underwear and unbuttoned his shirt. Seeing his cock lay so perfectly against his stomach made your legs weak, and you swore you could feel yourself salivating. You bent down over his cock and watched as pre-cum leaked in little beads from his tip. You kissed the tip of his length, giving it kitten licks. You could see the twitch of his cock just from teasing him.

“God- ah- fuck, kid. Get on top of me.” 

With zero hesitation, you climbed back onto his lap and moved your panties to the side, giving Hank kisses on his lips and grinding against his cock, waiting for a moment before taking him all. You stood up and positioned yourself over his cock, sitting back down with an exasperated shudder, moaning into his neck. Hank expelled a large breath against your skin, feeling your pussy wrap around him so perfectly. 

“Ah- wow, you feel good.” 

“Who, me?” You sarcastically remarked, panting. 

Hank squeezed your ass and moved it up and down on his cock. “Don’t get all smart-elicy on me now. We both know where you get it from.” 

He breathed between his teeth, almost audibly whining, when you deliberately clenched around his cock.

“If you mean myself, then you’d be correct.” 

Hank pounded into you harder than before, shocking you from the abrupt change in pace. You worried to whine as quietly as you could into his shoulder. “Smart brats make good dumb bunnies, kiddo.” 

“I- ah- oh, fuck!” You moaned as quietly as you could in his ear. 

“Hmph, yeah, see what I mean?” 

He groaned with hot breaths against your skin, making you clench harder around his cock again. You drooled against his shoulder and whined, nearly incomprehensible.

“Ah- hng- I- feels so- good!” 

“You- fuck- like that?”

“Mhm..!”

Through his groans, Hank teased you again, “Hmm, I think you could have it a little more rough.” 

You moaned into his neck, drooling as he pounded his cock into you, stretching your hole. Whatever response you could have given, you couldn’t. He stopped pounding into you for a moment and tucked your hair out of your pretty face to look at you, holding your hand and rubbing his calloused fingers over yours. 

“You wanna bend over for me, kiddo?” 

You mewled and kissed his lips, nodding, despite how tired and sore you were. You got off of his lap, feeling cold and empty from the lack of friction. Wetness seeped around your pussy and around your thighs as you spread your legs and bent down over his desk. 

“I’m teasing you, but you really are doing so well for me,” he said, bending over and kissing your cheek. “Don’t lay your head like that. Here, sweetheart.” He put his hand on the left side of your cheek, creating a barrier between your head and the hard desk. Hank massaged your ass with his other hand, before shoving his wet cock back into you, making you moan at the feeling. 

Hank tried keeping the noises at a minimum, yet still trying to pound into you and hit the spots that made you arch farther up his stomach. You could tell he was close to cumming, but God, you didn’t want it to end. With every thrust, you could feel him becoming more tense, groaning, letting out hot breaths. His thrusts were becoming sloppier and quicker. 

“Where- oh fuck- where do you want- ah- it?” 

“Cum in me, please! Please, please please!” 

 Hank grunted as quietly as he could, almost moaning, when you felt his cock twitch inside you. Cum spurted over your walls, making your pussy clench around him. You felt bad about not being able to cum as he pulled out of you, kissing your shoulder. 

“Hank,” you said quietly as you turned around and played with your clit.

“What’s up, kiddo?” He replied in his chair, out of breath.

“I couldn’t cum,” you practically mumbled. 

“Poor thing,” he said, sitting up and kissing your face. “I’ll fix it, don’t worry.”

You played with your clit softly when he sat back down in his chair, scooting towards your pussy and spreading your legs. You watched Hank as his head moved down to your crotch, and he collected the cum that was seeping out of your hole on his fingers and raised them to your mouth. You sucked them gently, before he brought his hand back down to your hole and began fucking you with his fingers and flicking his tongue over your clit. You whined out and tried squeezing your thighs, but to no avail, because he was already using his free hand to hold your legs down. You heard the wet noises that he made as he sucked on your puffy clit, making the knot in your stomach tighten. 

“Ah- oh, fuck! Ah, hngg, Hank!” You moaned as you tried to bite your lip. You could feel his smile curl against your pussy, and you held your orgasm for as long as you could, trying to relax your muscles. Only a few seconds after, however, did you let go, pulsating and cumming all around his calloused fingers. Hank licked the mixture of his cum and yours from your hole, kissing you. 

You, sweaty and nearly incoherent from being fucked dumb, mustered up a, “You’re kissing me with cum in your mouth, but I’m the dirty one.” 

Hank laughed at your ability to joke, even though you were so tired and cum-drunk. “You got me there,” he said, kissing you again. You sat there, batting your eyes as you looked up and his foggy glasses. 

“Thank you,” you said, quietly. 

“Of course, kiddo. Thank you. You’re the best I’ve had in years.” 

You smiled. “Really?” 

“Well maybe not the best behaved, but…”

You laughed and rolled your eyes. Hank grabbed a few tissues from his closet, along with a blanket that he gave you once you hopped down from his desk. He wiped your legs off and around the base of his cock, getting himself ready for his class. 

“Don’t come to class today. Take a nap, I know you need it,” he said, putting his chair back. He kissed you when you sat down, and put his pants on after buttoning his shirt.

“I gotta get to my lecture and get this mess off in the restroom. Lock the door behind me, I’ll tell you when I’m back.” 

“Okay,” you said.

“You’re a good girl, you know that?” 

“I guess I do now,” you said, with a smirk on your face. Hank shook his head with a smile and kissed you again, before straightening himself out and walking out the door, shutting it behind him. He opened it back up and peeked in for just a second. 

“Same time next week?” He whispered. 

“Sooner.”

“You got it.” 

[technicallyoneofakind]

So...

Angel Hare

The ending kind of hit me hard. The whole series feels like a subtle critique on nostalgia and the parasocial relationships we develope with fictional characters and creators... And that despite their flaws or whatever controversy followed them, the joy, supportive words, or inspiration they gave you in that moment is still valid.

Regardless of whether the audience can trust any of the characters in this horror/mystery YouTube series, a couple of lessons can be taken away from its current ending:

Sharing media that has helped you, be it fan works or recommendations, with others is important. It could very well help keep them going just as it did you. On top of that, you might just make a new friend.

The media you grew up with and the people you looked up to may turned out be flawed, but what matters is how they influenced you as a person.

I remember thinking about Night Mind (@nick-nocturne)- I had watched his coverage of Angel Hare prior to finishing the series. I remember on New Year's Day/Eve watching his I'm Proud of You Video and feeling exactly how the main character, Jonah, felt talking to Gabby- albeit with less other worldly intervention through the screen and more the vague but still moving comfort of being reminded by a much larger creator that my art mattered. It was also 3 am and I was very much sleep deprived so I'm sure my ramblings in a YouTube comment seemed like lunacy and obsession.

I digress.

What I mean to say, is that it's okay to feel some attachment to the characters and creators you find comfort in so long as you don't obsess to the point it hurts someone. Hold onto whatever gets you through the dark times, gives you hope, faith (religious or otherwise), and strength. I can't promise you things will get better if you do, but it's still something to whether the storm.

Anyway.

Here's the link to the YouTube playlist for Angel Hare

Here's Night Mind's video on the series

And here's Crowmudgeon's video essay

[lamuradex]

I got some writing feedback today and I fear it may have broken me.

It wasn’t bad, or even poor feedback. It just kind of hurt.

Me having a bit of a meltdown below the cut.

So, some explanation.

Back in January, I entered the Cheshire Novel Prize. Basic sort of contest, near 2000 entrants, you enter your novel, 100 get through to Round Two, like 10 make Round Three, and the winner is selected from them. The first round results were announced back in April, but it's old hat to me because this is my third year entering.

And I have never made it past the first round.

I've been entering the same novel, Stitches of the Mind, for three years, polishing it up more and more each time. But I've never so much as made it to round two.

Now, I’m not surprised by this, and it’s mostly fine. Sort of upsetting, but my rational side tells me its fine. 100 spots out of 2000? 5% chance? How likely is that?

BUT one of the selling points of CNP is that every entrant, no matter how far they get, will receive feedback on their entry. Which is great!

This year though, the contest did a bit of a number on me. My self confidence in my writing, and all around need to be validated, has been a little fragile the past year, and the CNP do a lot to build tension concerning who’s made it through, so it was a long tense build up, months in advance, to a simple disappointing loss.

But I still had the feedback to look forward to.

The feedback usually takes a while to go out, there are a lot of people to email, and I was patient… mostly. Started to get a little antsy by mid-September. But today, 23rd of September, my feedback arrived. And it was everything I should have expected. A lot of nice praise, some stuff I can improve (though that was a little vague) and a final summary of some general tips.

And buried in all that feedback was this line:

"There is so much to like about this novel, and it was so close to progressing in the competition."

And that comment felt like it cracked my brain.

I was so close to progressing. And I didn't even know. But I'd still lost!

And I'd just been given feedback that, had I known it six months ago, could have meant I finally got to Round Two, which is honestly all I could hope for.

But discovering that I was that CLOSE TO SUCCEEDING!

FUCK!

I... don't really know what to do with all this. I know there's another editing run in my future, because of course there is, but I am still struggling to process this news. I'd have killed to get to Round Two, and receive even that little bit of validation that this novel is worthwhile! But no. I missed it by inches, if the feedback is to be believed. After three years I still missed it by inches.

I'm just a little exhausted now.

I think I need to go to bed. I'm a little sleep deprived anyway, having stayed up too late last night, trying to track down my past CNP feedback on an old computer. And then the new one miraculously arrived today. What are the odds?

But yeah, that's the meltdown I'm having.

How are you guys doing?

[impishtubist]

Here’s a bit of chaos: Percy raised some valid points when he didn’t believe Voldemort was back. The story sounds utterly unhinged from the outside perspective and the vast majority of the world (read: everyone but Dumbledore and maybe a couple DEs) has no clue the man has horcruxes so nobody else can think of how this is possible, why the fuck would they think this actually happened when absolutely none of them know a single way to come back from the dead 14-ish years after the fact?? There is no earthly way the Weasleys ever would’ve taught Percy about horcruxes, they probably never even heard of them until Dumbledore told Harry, so Percy has no way of knowing that Voldemort has a way of resurrecting himself, there’s no documented proof Percy has of this ever happening and it’s not like the dead are regularly coming back in Percy’s life (excluding the future event of Harry surviving the Killing Curse again). Harry is insisting he came back, but Harry just endured a horrifically traumatizing event of witnessing the death of a schoolmate and memory isn’t always reliable. Also, Dumbledore is a shady guy, we see him recruit child soldiers and seemingly do nothing to run the school despite being headmaster (meaning, what the hell is he doing all the time? It’s not taking care of student safety, that’s for sure), Percy’s right to be skeptical of the man (another shady thing Dumbledore did: only telling one person about the horcruxes, rather than the entire group of grown adults who trusted him implicitly). The entire story sounds nuts, literally who would go “of course this man, who died over a decade ago and who hasn’t been seen in person since then, has come back to life, with no explanation of how this actually occurred and the only witnesses being a man who’s been a prisoner in one way or another for almost half his life and seems to be stark raving mad and a child who just witnessed someone die and who has been in a life-threatening situation all year and is possibly having a stress or sleep-deprived hallucination, this makes total sense”? There is no solid explanation for how Voldemort came back given to most people, Dumbledore was essentially going “yes, I know exactly how he came back to life, but I won’t tell you, just trust me bro, he’s for sure back.” I’m not so sure I’d believe this story either, not until someone told me how this man managed to resurrect himself

Probably the biggest surprise to myself in my return to fandom is that I have become part of the Percy Weasley Defense Squad. Obviously not as much as I am part of the Sirius Black Defense Squad, but man, the books really did that kid dirty!

First off, he spends his life being the butt of his family's jokes for *checks notes* being studious and liking to follow rules???? Everyone is just so mean to him. Or, if they're not actively mean, they just plain don't get him, and let me tell you, that is a fucking lonely feeling in your family.

And then he goes to work for the Ministry and is once again thrown under the bus by everyone, even his boss, who is the Minister of Magic, and he's, what??? 18 years old???? Like jfc he is a CHILD!

And yeah! It really isn't all that outlandish for him to be suspicious about Voldemort actually being back! Why would he believe that without question????

Justice for Percy!

(I actually think Sirius and Percy would become quite good friends tbh. They're both outcasts in their own families. I think Sirius would be pretty fond of him actually)

[wally-friggin-franks]

hey. hey pint.

feck i forgot what i was gonne say.

uh. ye got any funny stories from t'e studio ye wanna share i guess? -🪚

pff hi shawn

uhhh i gotta think but im sure theres a few. uhhhhmmm. hm.

i mean one time i guess i was just biting mean ppl. yk as i do. jack waltzes up ta me, right, n they says, they says ta me- "hey, chomper." and thats like the highest honor ive ever recieved. idk. thats not the story i wanna tell but its somethin. its important to me. they are warm and soft like mashed potatoes

,,actually lemme try n tell multiple short ones. not including the smelly peopel/silly

one time i was like really friggin sleep deprived, right. like went a full week without sleepin. me n grant bump into eachother n it goes "first time, kid?" and i responded with some sort of unholy abomination of slurred together jumbled sounds. he goes "oh. yeah def. your first time. you get used to it. here." he gives me a SPARE FULL CUP OF COFFEE. WHERE DID IT GET THAT. anyways i chugged it like it was my life support n' i was fine for a few more days until norman caught me and dragged me, by my ear, the whole way home. basically threw me towards me couch. i think i said somethin' like "im FINE" and then immediately passed out for 2 days straight

speakin' of norman- shawn, d'ya remember that prank we pulled on it and henry that one time, where we tried SO HARD to set up little mistletoe around the studio in places we thought theyd be together. but freakign. CONNOR WHEATLEY KEPT TAKING THEM DOWN WITH THE DUMB REASON "ITS NOT EVEN HALLOWEEN" OKAY SO WHAT WE R ON A MISSION. FRICK YOU WHEATLEY FROMTHE WRITING DEPARTMENT.

um. anyways. we just ended up tripping norman into henry and they just hugged but thats a win in my book.

lets see. allison invited me over once to bake, right? so i says to her, hey, im not that good at this, i still don't trust myself around the can opener. she goes "nonesense!" .....anyways that ended with a few injuries and the most mediocre peanut brittle youve ever seen. dont ask me. we gave some to susie and she FOUGHT to give me a thumbs up bless her heart. altho i did have to empty the trash can full of the discarded stuff which like so valid. it sucked so bad im sorry miss susie cksbjf

OH MY GOD OKAY so at some point i was tired of just. throwing away my empty cleaner bottles. so i cleaned some out and started usin em as like. drink bottles. right? although i had to stop when people saw me chug them and thought i was making unwise decisions. so that only lasted a week. i think i scarred a few people for life. but the lemonade i put in em was bomb ok its not my fault

if ya want more, i can prob'ly think of more. i should. prob'ly go to bed for now, though

[cephalonserotonin]

Devstream 170 Notes

This was a great stream, fun and full of antics, I recommend watching it for yourself. Regardless, here are my highlights :) Duviri spoilers will be under the cut.

Rebb's outfit… I say this every time, but god DAMN, fashion QUEEN

DUVIRI:

I'm glad the team is happy with it!! I loved the quest, and they should be proud of it :)

The devs waiting until they see the stats to make a call on the duviri paradox as a new player start is the right choice.

Is it just me, or is there some lack of alignment between Pablo and Rebb as far as game direction that wasn't there before? It could just be Rebb's mania from sleep deprivation. EDIT: expanded on later, as Pablo stabbed Rebb in the back by not responding to her slacks liking Leon Kennedy

As usual with my boy Pablo, everything he has said about decrees is on point. I'm glad he has acknowledged the progression curve on drifter with decrees is a bit nuts but still respecting how fun the power fantasy is. He's very aware of the delicate balance, and he is a good steward. I didn't know we'll likely be getting more decrees in the future, and I look forward to seeing them!!

So many of the fuckos on r/Warframe have been saying DE doesn't play or test on Steel Path, so Rebb talking about how she and Pablo did a run on Steel Path and how they recommend approaching it was VALIDATING

Dax-inspired Warframe??? 👀👀👀

Defense objectives in the Undercroft might be revisited later.

Rebb originally wanted 10 emotions. Oh my god I want to know what they were

Discussing Calm as a potential free roam mode… I would love this for me personally, because I love exploring and resource gathering.

Confirmation that sol/terra/luna is voiced by a guinea pig, the cutest that Chris on the sound team could find.

Kullervo: new Warframe

fuckinf. DAGGERS. a pincushion boy. He's so pretty and shiny He's got a voidy syandana:

my clanmate contributes "Kullorbo from my Warframes"

Gardening: We are now on Gardening Plan v 4, smaller than previous ambitions. Rebb regrets getting community expectations so high, and they simply have to acknowledge the limitations of the team size. No Dormiview Valley for us.

Gauss Deluxe: "Space Hermes meets Mecha"

His head goes UP

Acceltra concept, which… doesn't look like the acceltra at all lol

Gauss Deluxe Kaithe skin looks sick as all hell:

Tennocon 2023: Buy a digital pack to tennocon to receive… X-shaped (for Tenth Anniversary) Syandana, which I think is terrible and will clip into everything

Gorgeous rapier skin

A smattering of other customizations showed too quickly for me to take notes on.

Q&A I had to type all this v fast so it's paraphrased Q: More bosses? Pablo: We have plans for one more miniboss Q:Does it make a difference which name you choose for Sol/terra/luna? Rebb: it's a flavour choice Q: Crafting or housing in Duviri? Pablo: We looked at making the dormizone a third base (after orbiter/drifters camp). It's complicated. We are going to look at stats for drifters camp first. Kary: We would need a very good reason to rebuild all those machines

Rebb is very happy that Duviri is out, and will be even happier when the bugs are fixed, which the team is fully committed to doing. And then there was a round of shoutouts to the great voice actors in this update. And a joke about Rebb getting food poisoning while recording a steel path test run. Watch out for raw eggs.

[goldenteaset]

I've seen a fic suggest that Belial just didn't get to sleep very deeply, because then he wouldn't have been able to conceal himself

I just think it's funny to imagine he's so unhinged in the present day because he is severely sleep deprived. Also, I want to roll him into a blanket and let him get some rest. Poor man has been through a lot

Morning Light Hymnus mentions a million lonely nights, so I imagine he at least spent some of those nights awake. Either having meaningless sex and/ or just staring into the void, missing Lucilius

Finally, there's just something poetic to imagine that Belial spent 2000 years alive while Lucilius was essentially asleep

But I think it's valid to go with your favorite reading and do what you think is best/ most interesting! So no judgement on you letting him get his well earned rest. If anything, give him a kissie from me when you tuck him in <3

Aww, thanks anon! I like that fic's idea, too, as it makes sense that Belial would be "sleeping with one eye open" so to speak.

In retrospect, I did word that post as a bit more...angry...than I'd like. ^^; Call it "scrolling through GBF twitter is difficult sometimes" syndrome. You make a lot of good points, like the "million lonely nights without you" line and the comedy of him being unhinged through lack of sleep. ("Let's sleep together~. No, really. Please. PLE--"

I'm definitely taping "But I think it's valid to go with your favorite reading and do what you think is best/ most interesting!" to my forehead, by the way. Because yeah, we all have different interpretations of the source material, and that the source material allows for that is really fun in the long run.

(And I will definitely give him a kiss in your stead! He kisses almost everyone else on the head before bed in my fics, he needs that good-sleep charm too. ;v;)

[very-gay-poet]

THE CORRECT POTTER CHILDREN NAMES CUZ I HATE THE CANON ONES. 

Harry and Ginny Potters first born.

Freddy Sirius Potter. 

Freddy to be named after Fred but since there's already a Fred Weasley II and Ginny canonly looked up to the twins so of course shes gonna name a kid after him. Sirius for the same reason as canon.

Next the middle child: 

I hate the name Albus Severus Potter with every fiber of my being. So his name is going to be Leo Harry Potter. 

Leo becuase Sirius is named after a star and I think they'd want to get Regulus in there as well and Leo is the Lion star so it would honour their house as well. And then to carry on the tradition, the father's name as the middle name. Since the Potters come from a long line of purebloods, the canon ones are James Flemont Potter and Harry James Potter so it would make sense that way. 

And finally (my personal favourite). 

The youngest potter sibling. 

Jasmine Minerva Potter. If you didn't know Ginny is a type of flower and so is Ginerva. And also since in the Evans family it's tradition to be named after a flower I think Harry did it for his wife and since Narcissa, who saved his life twice, and lilly, who is litterly the reason he's the chosen one in the first place, and then his wife so obviously. I think Ginny picked this one out since it just had her energy. And Minerva since....everything. 

And there we have it the Potter children and what there names should be.

[iwonderwh0]

As someone with really fucked up chronic insomnia, if I learned anything about sleep and sleep deprivation it's that your experience of tiredness/sleepiness is extremely subjective, often illogical and sometimes having slept a whole night you may feel significantly more tired and miserable the next day than two-three whole days without a minute of sleep at all (you may actually start feeling kind of great and positive and needlessly excited after a certain point of sleep deprivation). If it teached me anything it's that even one night with poor quality of sleep can make you feel terrible and it's valid to say and feel tired/sleepy/etc even if someone has it “worse”.

If I ever hear someone complaining about sleeping poorly and go “Oh, it's nothing, I have only slept 5 hours last week, it's my 84's hour awake and I feel like going for a run because I am incapable of feeling sleepiness, so you're doing great and have no right to complain” or something of that matter please shoot me like a rabid animal. I literally felt much worse on some meds while sleeping regularly than I did recently after 90+ hours awake

Has anyone else noticed that as a society, we’re shamed for wanting to sleep? Sleeping in is bad, naps are only okay if they’re 20 minutes, you cant be tired unless you’re a <insert career/lifestyle choice here>, so on and so forth.

I mean, I think we all need to spread our blankets out, cuddle a pillow, and go to sleep. Everyone needs more of it, fuck this “it’s not productive” nonsense. It’s okay to sleep, it’s okay to want to sleep. You’re not lazy because of it.

[don-the-death-collector]

Teresa (and Lucky)

To give you an idea of what my job entails, I'll start with my very first job and the secrets that came with it.

It started small. I handed out a makeshift business card that wasn't even laminated to the funeral home that had taken care of my father after I explained my plan to the owner. He was surprisingly supportive. I still appreciate that support to this day, where I still get customers that Anthony had sent my way with a glowing recommendation. I emphasized that I don't do crime scenes, that I can do hoarding cases, and a general overview of my services.

It was definitely a surprise when I got my first client the next week.

The caller was a sweet but anxious girl, barely 18, who had been saddled with her mother's estate with no grandparents or siblings who could help her. The poor thing seemed like she was jumping from thought to thought and emotion to emotion throughout the whole call. At one moment she would be crying and sharing her regret that they hadn't been close and the next she would be cursing up a storm over the fact that her mother had had "one last fuck you" by making her daughter take care of all of her belongings. I let her go without interrupting aside from some gentle validation when she seemed to need it. Eventually she asked me if she could come to my office and fill out a form for the apartment to be cleared out.

I...I hadn't thought that far yet.

I didn't have an office. I didn't even have any forms. So I made a rough one up in the middle of the night and asked Anthony if I could use one of his conference rooms (for lack of a better name) to meet her in. Again, he agreed. God, the more I think of those early days the more I realize I owe him big time for all his help. But that's beside the point. The next day she met me at the funeral home after another call about the meeting place and we discussed what she wanted.

Here's a rough approximation of what my sleep deprived brain came up with in the middle of the night:

*Consent Form for Services Rendered*

1. I, _______________________, hereby give Don**** ****** permission to enter the home of the deceased, __________________, based on my authority as next of kin, administrator, or executor of their estate.

2. In terms of furniture, I would like to keep the following furniture

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________

And the rest may be donated or disposed of.

3. In terms of personal belongings, I would like to keep the following items

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

And the rest may be donated or disposed of.

4. In terms of sentimental belongings (ex: photos, notebooks, letters, etc.) I would like to keep the following items

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

And the rest may be disposed of.

If there is any uncertainty about what should be done with _____________________'s belongings, I can be reached at _________________________.

I have understood the information provided to me and agree to the discussed price of $________________ based on labor and size of living space in sq. feet.

Signature and Printed Name: _________________________________________________________________________

The form was...rough to say the least. But it got the job done and I honestly haven't had to change it much over the years. I told her the baseline price I was charging per square foot and the added price per hour of labor and she agreed without a second thought. Clearly wanted to be free of the task, and I didn't blame her.

Although the first day of this job was light, it was a good tone setter for my work moving forward.

Bright and early the next day I set off for the address I was given with a sense of nervous excitement. This was the first day of a potential career, one that didn't involve retail work 5 days/week, and if it worked out I was confident I could support myself doing this instead. I'd done some research on the prices using what similar services I found and if I did well then...well, then I would have a better life. Even if it was dealing with a lot of death. When I pulled up, I wasn't really sure what to think.

On first glance the apartment looked normal. Nice even. But the more you looked at it the more you noticed the odd details. Newspaper over one of the windows. A crack in another. What looked like scratches around the doorknob. The feeling around it was odd too. I'd come to know that this was just the feeling of going into a house you know has no resident any longer, but at the time, I was just kind of freaked out. Regardless though, I had to go in. I already had my gameplan. First clearing out all the trash, then the small stuff like paperwork, then the appliances and such, then the furniture. Being prepared like that always calmed my nerves in new situations, and it certainly did that here as I unlocked the door, took a breath, and went in.

It was...disgusting in there. More flies than I would have imagined, and the smell was...god, it was horrible. Rotting food, cigarette smoke, cat pee, and-

Cat pee?

I racked my brain for a second about the meeting. I was sure I brought up pets, it's something I usually do for small talk and to make me and the other person comfortable. She said she didn't have any, that her own rental agreement didn't allow it, and that I wouldn't need to worry about letting any out when I went to this apartment.

Then why was there cat pee?

I put on a mask I had in the backpack for the cleaning part of the job to help dull the smell and started investigating. If there was an animal in the home, that was my first priority. Cans of food in trash. A single squeaky mouse. An overfull and filthy litterbox, and a bathroom mat that seemed to have substituted in the meantime. I started calling, making awkward kissing noises, and after several minutes received the most pitiful meow I had ever heard from the living room. I laid myself as flat as I was willing to on the filthy carpet to look under the couch and met eyes with a thin, scruffy-furred black cat with the widest yellow eyes I had ever seen.

"Hey there, little guy," I cooed, trying to coax him out.

The cat hissed and tried to make himself smaller and scoot as far from me as possible. I frowned and pushed myself up to look around the kitchen for any food that wasn't rotten (or ideally that was legitimate cat food), and was fortunate to find a can of wet food that had been knocked over behind a few expired cans of corn.

"You hungry?" I asked, trying and failing to find a clean plate, with there being some evidence that these had been what the woman was using for the cat's food.

At the rustling in the kitchen the cat had poked his head out ever so slightly from the couch, revealing a small black nose and light whiskers. It made a little chirping noise that at the time I didn't understand, having been raised with dogs all my life, and when I set the can down he wasted no time running at it and eating so fast that I was worried he would hurt himself on the can. I might as well have left for all the care he had towards me as he devoured his food, and as I watched him I noticed the poor thing's ribs showing.

"How long were you here alone...?" I asked him, mortified.

Even if he could answer I don't think he would have, he was clearly very busy making up for lost meals. I let him be as I stepped away to call the client. After a few rings she answered, sounding confused.

"Hello?"

"Hi Amy, it's Don. You have a sec?"

There was some muffled shuffling as she moved to a different area, signaled by a door shutting. "Um, sure, what's wrong? There wasn't anything I wanted aside from valuables or cash."

"There's...uh...there's a cat here."

Silence for a moment. "What?"

"A cat. It looks like your mom had a cat."

A longer moment. "...Just...bring it to the shelter."

"I know you can't have one based on our conversation, but maybe a friend or-"

"Just get rid of it. I don't care where it goes. I don't want it. I don't want to see it."

There was something almost desperate in her voice, and it kept me from arguing. The tone told me I probably didn't want to know why she was so against this poor animal. I looked to him as I answered, gently, "...since you don't care where it goes, could I have him?"

She seemed taken aback for the briefest of moments before answering quickly, "Yes, if you could. Please. I'm sure you'll have a better home than that one."

"Yeah...Yeah I definitely do."

"Good. Then, is there anything else?"

"No miss, nothing else. I'll let you know if I find any valuables or cash."

"...Thank you, Don."

I hung up and looked at the cat as he scratched at the now empty can, hoping he had missed something. At least I'd have some company while I finished the first part of the job, and when I went home I'd see what I'd signed up for. I still don't know why I volunteered myself at that moment. Something about that cat...I felt for him. Maybe saw something in him that called out to me. Or, of course, I could just be romanticizing things after the fact. Either way, now that he had some food in him and knew I was the one that gave it to him he followed me around as I got out the box of garbage bags and a pair of gloves and started piling handful after handful of garbage into bag after bag. Expired cans of food. Rotten meat that had been in the fridge for god knows how long. Plates so caked with mystery food and mold that it was easier to throw them away than try to clean them up to donate. Several full ashtrays. A few handfuls of used tissues. Several TV guides from over a decade prior. A...um...adult item that I was thankful I was throwing out instead of that poor girl. Little by little the floors and surfaces were exposed, my new buddy sitting and watching me or meowing at anything resembling a can. He seemed particularly confused by the ashtrays since they were roughly the size of the can of cat food and were clearly being emptied into the bags, and at one point even growled when I refused to set it down for him.

By the time the garbage alone was done, it was dusk. A whole day just cleaning out all the trash, and more garbage bags than I had been prepared to deal with on my first job. In the future I would always rent out a dumpster as a precaution, but this time, I would have to take a few bags with me each time I left the house. I still remember the smell and how it didn't leave my car for days. But the cat got in no problem. Even let me carry him out after I'd gotten the last bag, and sat in that seat just like the German Shepard I'd grown up with.

I named him Lucky.

I went back to the house the next day while Lucky was asleep in what used to be the bed for my aunt's Boston terrier (I really appreciate how quick she brought it once I said what happened). My goal that day was simple enough: pack up anything that wasn't an appliance or furniture and divide the donatable from more trash. I didn't know it then, but this would end up being my favorite part of the job. This was when you start finding the real secrets.

At first things were simple enough. I hadn't thrown out any legible papers in case there was something on them that Amy would need for the estate side of things, so I started there. Some of it was boring of course: half-finished to-do lists, numbers for god knows who scribbled on junk mail or old bills, doodles of varying quality. If I remember right my favorite thing in those categories was a really abstract looking drawing of a chicken. But there were a few little gems already peaking through in this pile.

On a piece of paper labelled "The New World Testament" there was an odd series of symbols or numbers. The symbols varied from what looked like meaningless jumbles of lines to small shapes to vaguely religious ones like a cross with a halo or a star with wings. It clearly had some value since it had been kept safe from the mess left on the kitchen table, but whatever it was had been lost on me. The lines of numbers and symbols were in clearly defined paragraphs and sequences, and I probably spent way to long trying my hand at code breaking before giving up and moving on, setting the paper aside. On the same table was a bible with dog-eared pages, a lot of them in the "book of revelations" or the old testament. I wasn't exactly the religious sort but I'd been raised Catholic and recognized bits and pieces. That got set aside too.

When I moved on to the bedroom, the possibly useful separated from the less than helpful in a recycling bag, it was what I'll affectionately refer to as "haunting" sensation. Bedrooms are the best place for secrets and the worst place for peace of mind in a job like mine. Too easy to get a sense of the person whose life you're clearing away. A Snoopy stuffed animal. A few crosswords and word searches. The sizeable cluster of pills on the other hand was at least more "detective work" than "graverobbing" for me. They were mostly the same kind aside from some almost empty bottles of Olanzapine. Multivitamins, Metformin, and Vitamin D pill bottles were emptied and sometimes on their side, as if grabbed haphazardly. The several bottles of Risperidone, however, seemed untouched. Since there are regulations on medications that make disposing of them a bit harder I counted the pills left in the bottles that weren't empty, and while there as only one bottle of Olanzapine with more than a pill or two, there was either the same number or none at all missing from the Risperidone. No idea what they were for at the time, didn't think it was right to look it up.

Another chunk of time taken up with the personal bits passed before I found anything that caught my curiosity, As I mentioned I try not to worry about appliances until later, but sometimes the smaller ones get gathered during the hunting bit. One of these was an old radio/cassette player that I was shocked still worked when I tested it, and when I opened the cassette deck to see if there were any tapes in it there was instead almost a dozen thinly folded notes stuffed inside that nearly popped out once it was opened.

I mean, who could blame me for focusing on that instead?

I unfolded the one at the back of the pile, hoping it was the oldest, and started to read.

It's been four days since God blessed me by speaking to me again.

I missed him so much, I thought he had abandoned his most faithful servant. But it was the poison those madmen gave me that did it. They tried to cut me off from our Lord and keep me from preventing the end times. Agents of the devil, that's all they are. But I forgive them. Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those that trespass against us. Though they lost their way, I will not.

He told me today to begin transcribing his teachings into the language of angels, and I decided to also log the journey for myself for the future disciples to see how I struggled in the name of our Lord.

I will not fail you.

I frowned and looked back at the bible and the paper filled with code on the table, wondering what these "teachings" were, before grabbing another. As I did I jumped as the radio crackled to life a moment and uttered a few garbled words before going quiet again.

"I...must have hit the button..." was all I could think to say to reassure myself as I continued.

The agents of the devil have realized my mission.

I've seen them at the window of my room, trying to listen in to the teachings of the Lord. They want to stop me. They want to sever my connection with Him again. They want the Antichrist to rise unopposed.

They won't falter me! They can't have my soul!

He told me how to protect his words and his teachings from prying eyes. I will bombard them with the false news of the false idols, plaster it to distract them, and protect our future salvation.

Lord protect your faithful servant, and trust that I will follow your will.

False news of false idols? What the hell did that mean? As I looked at the windows I finally noticed that they were covered with newspapers the same way one of the windows in the front had been. I got up for a second and looked to see which of those front windows had been covered and realized it was directly behind one of the kitchen chairs. I couldn't remember if that chair had been the one where the code and the bible had originally been sitting, but it was likely a safe bet considering what I'd read.

I sat back down and grabbed another, and was again interrupted by the radio crackling to life, this time somewhat intelligible.

"...protect his children from..."

I leaned in a bit, wondering if maybe it was some kind of religious broadcast that was feeding into these notes.

"...the Lord shields you from the devil's gaze..."

There was a loud smacking noise at one of the windows and I let out what I'm sure could have been mistaken for a little girl's scream. In the subsequent scramble to my feet I knocked over the radio and it again fell silent.

Worried that a bird had hit the window I put the note I was still holding in my pocket and headed outside to investigate. No bird, thankfully, but I almost wish there had been. Because on this side of the glass was the clear smudge of a hand and a slight crack that hadn't been there before.

Then again, it's not like there wasn't a broken window on the front side of the house. Maybe a kid had noticed someone was in the house and decided to mess with them. I frowned at the thought. If it was then they certainly hadn't helped this poor woman's mental health with their bullshit.

With one more lap around the house just in case I returned to the woman's room to keep reading.

I have decided to keep my logs within the vessel of the Lord to further protect them from the prying eyes of the devil's servants.

They cannot open the vessel. I have blessed it with the Lord's guidance.

As I have listened to His teachings I was told to begin collecting animals, as the world would be bathed in cleansing fire much like the flood of old and need to be reborn anew. I have been busy with my work but the Lord has helped me in this task by sending me one of his children. The creature has no name, as I'm only housing him for the new world, but I care for him as I would my own in the name of His glory.

I am your faithful servant, Lord. I follow your word to the letter.

So, that's why Amy didn't know about the cat. He must have been a stray that was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, and ended up entangled in whatever this woman had believed. As for "the vessel", I could only assume she meant the radio, after all that was where the notes had been.

As if on cue the thing crackled to life a third time, scaring me a bit less this time around, and it was even clearer than before.

"As the time of reckoning approaches, heed the signs of the devil's work. He will try to tempt you, as he once tempted Eve, and will slowly drag you to hell with him and away from the healing light of the Lord. Do not be tempted my child. Heed the signs, and do not walk the path of sin. Do not eat the apple a second time."

Something about the words made me feel a bit ill. Those radio pastors sure have a way with their fire and brimstone talk. He had an undeniable charisma that made it feel as if he were speaking to me personally rather than who knows how many listeners. As it died again, I promised myself I'd change the station if it came back on.

I have received another blessing. I no longer need to sleep, and as His son before me I am no longer tempted by simple food and water. I can focus on my work. The end is coming. I must stop it.

I must save Amy.

For some reason, at that moment, all hell broke loose. The radio kicked on at what had to have been its max volume with something between a screech and deafening static as the windows shook from the impacts on them from outside, a few pictures falling off of the wall they shared. I clamped my hands over my ears, overwhelmed by the noise and my racing heart. God, maybe this woman had been on to something, because it sure as hell felt like the world was ending in that moment.

It stopped as suddenly as it started. I removed my hands shakily to check the radio, terrified of the idea of it making that horrible noise again. One of the notes that had still been in the tape deck was somewhat singed, presumably by the electricity that surged through the radio, and another had actually been burned through where it had made contact with the inner workings, making it impossible to read.

When I checked the photos for what fell, the two of the five that had were of a young girl I assumed to be Amy.

I stopped at that note. That was enough to tell me that these were not something Amy needed to see, not that the earlier ones had done some convincing already. I carefully folded each note and put it back in the radio before considering the thing. I could just throw it out of course along with the now meaningless "teachings" and the bible verses that inspired them, but...it felt wrong. In her last days this poor woman was lost in her frantic quest to serve God and save her daughter, and if I threw these things away then all that pain would be for nothing. At least, that's how I felt about it.

God, thinking about my decision after all that makes me sound like I was asking for a poltergeist or a ghost or something.

But kept it. I kept the radio, the notes, the code, and the bible. As I finished the rest of the job and gave Amy the paperwork she hadn't known she needed as a first timer, I settled these items in my home along with Lucky and, out of respect, made a label for the radio that had the woman's name on it: "Teresa". I would keep this habit with future finds, labeling things with the names of the dead who owned them, and it's become a kind of ritual to show these people respect as I hold on to their secrets.

It still kicks on now and again, but it hasn't screeched at me or destroyed any of the notes as far as I can tell since that day. Every time it does I try to change the channel, but the damn thing won't let me. It's usually a few snippets from the radio pastor but every once in a while there's a woman with a gentle voice talking about forgiveness and the Lord's kindness. It's only happened 2 or 3 times where it was that voice, but I definitely prefer it.

I hope in some small way that taking in Lucky and saving the last things she had ever cared about helped Teresa feel at peace. I hope helping Amy helped her feel at peace.

Secrets like these are actually more common than I'd have expected going into this, so in a way I'm glad that my first job was for someone who had struggles like this. It helped me appreciate what people in these situations really go through, and I think I'm a kinder person for it. And I hope I gave Teresa's story the respect it deserves. My first case. My first secrets. My first taste of the unexplained.

God, that ended up being a lot longer than I thought! It feels better to talk about these than I expected. Friends and family don't exactly want to hear about a job like mine more than the bare minimum, and this is the first time I've felt like I can share some of my finds without risking someone discovering who the secrets I've collected are from. Thinking of who to talk about next though is surprisingly hard. Each case has it's own charms, for lack of a better word, and some I still can't really explain. Hell, I've had to call the cops for a few. I guess for anyone who wants to hear more just give me a name or a question about the job and I'll keep sharing.

In the meantime, you all take care of yourselves, alright?

Maybe I'll try to finish these old notes while I wait.

[sclfmastery]

as an artist, are there any super simple art tips that you know that improve a persons art a lot when they start using it? like, my teacher once told me to always have the corner of the mouth in line with the corner of the eye when drawing faces, and that's stuck with me for years, but i really want to know if theres any other nifty little tricks like that. BUT OBVIOUSLY YOU DONT NEED TO ANSWER im only asking because i really like your art and your lineart is really sharp in a way id like to one day be able to do some much simpler version of

Let me just preface this by saying I squealed with JOY when I realized I'd been sent an ask not about my writing, but about my VISUAL ART. My BFA was in painting and what I teach at university is connected to the creation of visual art. So I just get SO happy to think someone else cares about my stuff enough to ask how I make it! Please don't ever be sorry or shy to reach out! <3

Aside doing an actual video (which I could try, one of these days, if you want, but I'm trad only so it'll be clunky lol), here are some thoughts that pop into my sleep-deprived brain:

--It's FINE to use a reference. In order to master line variation and, especially form and movement, you will want NOT to let tracing be a crutch. But unless you have plans to be a sequential artist who has to have a mental "shorthand" of how-to's with various features and body parts, it is ENTIRELY ok to use a live or photographed model. Whoever started the rumor that this is cheating was being dumb.

--Become fluent in various softnesses (and therefore values) of graphite, Conte crayon, and charcoal. Yes, even if you're a computer artist. Learn the relationship between line thickness, perspective, and depth of form. I can go into this more if need be. Your H pencil is going to be hard and pale, and your B pencil is going to be soft and dark. Both have their uses.

--True to a bigger point: Just like in Doctor Who you don't skip Nine, don't skip trad art design fundamentals. You don't have to stay there forever, but let it be your foundational training. You don't have to go to university for this if you're unable. There are free online courses called MOOCs.

--Don't start stylized. Copying things like anime or comic book styles is a valid way to warm up, but you are filtering your work through someone else's eyes. Try to start with the original subject (be it a still like or a portrait) and develop your own unique mannerisms from that point.

--Don't be afraid to stop and toss it, and start over.

--Hardest one: Don't be afraid to erase and redo the part you love best if it doesn't have a correct relationship to the other parts in the drawing, painting, etc. I guarantee you can make something as good as that passage again. It's not gone forever. Don't be afraid to rework.

--Walk away for at least 3 hours and come back. Is it all still resolved or do you need to work on something?

--When choosing a color palette, it can be helpful to already have a neutral midtone established. Also, don't be me and get too ambitious about your colors. Pick like three tops and just do variations of those.

--Do NOT draw a human subject and think of the parts by their names WHILE rendering them. Reduce them to design principles: not "this is the eye," but "this is the dark round shape surrounded by a lighter space." If you think "this is the eye," you will stop really closely looking at what makes this eye unique and just kind of "plug in" stock eye features. This is the biggest enemy of capturing a likeness.

--You can absolutely rework anything in any medium. There are just different methods for doing so, between say watercolors and oils.

--Work with white noise or music. A playlist that keeps you in the zone, undistracted but also calm, is the playlist that you want.

--Know when to quit. 'I rarely feel like my work is "done" but if I keep going, I over work and ruin it.

I hope this helped as a start! <3 I'd love to see your work!

[sunenjoyswriting]

Being saved by the person you despise is more likely then you'd think (especially when they call you savior)!: The aftermath/Part two

PART ONE

Possible warnings: Im pretty sure there's no warnings needed for this chapter. Please do tell me if I'm wrong!

Writers note: There's probably gonna be a part three tomorrow or the next day. Anyways, this is a very fun series to write for! Brimhat Coco is such a cool idea!! Also this officially takes the number one place of the fics of mine having the most words, clocking in at about 750 words (if we count part ones word count as well, this hits about 1000 whole words!!!)

Summary: Oh look, Qifery is apparently extremely worried about Coco. Coco is just very annoyed by him and has changed... A lot. (Wowie, I finally didn't just rip the summary from AO3, because the AO3 one SUCKS)

The past few days had been a blur for Coco, they were all really just getting taught the basics of forbidden magic, nothing special.

They were one of Iguin's apprentices, and, frankly, doing forbidden magic felt so... Right. Like it was what Coco was made for.

Now, unknown to Coco, Qifery and his apprentices were worried sick about her. He lets Coco do one magic related thing without anybody he knows watching over her, and now she hasn't returned for four days!! (Qifery... She's not coming back - at least not out her free will...)

So, of course, he has been completely sleep deprived, and just planning out how he'd find Coco and save her.

And, his plan is finally ready. He tells Olruggio to watch over the apprentices, and makes his leave at... Really early in the morning (like, the suns just rising).

He already has a few ideas of where Coco could be, so he starts with those.

Nope. Coco is nowhere to be found in those places.

So, he just starts wandering around areas, looking for Coco... Maybe it wasn't the most professional plan, but that didn't really matter!

Thankfully for him, not so for Coco, she was practicing some healing magic on some plants (because she had no humans to practice on) in the forest... Where he came across her.

"Coco-! You're okay!" Qifery said, relieved.

Coco didn't notice him. She was too into her new magic to notice him.

"Coco? Did you hear me?" Qifery asked, approaching Coco... Quickly noticing her new hat - and the way it was brimmed...

Coco turned her head to him, immediately recognizing who was before her.

"... Its you." Coco said, disgust laced in her voice.

"Yes, Coco. Its me. And... Mind explaining the brimmed hat?" Qifery asked, now somewhat worried about the possibility of her being a brimmed cap member (well... Qifery, your worries are completely valid!)

"I no longer adhere by your rules. Forbidden magic saved me, so I don't see why I would continue to hate it." Coco answered, nonchalantly.

"... What do you mean, saved you?" Qifery asked, sitting down next to her.

"Exactly what I said. Without it, I would be dead right now." Coco once again answered, scooting away from him.

"… And how exactly did it save you?" Qifery asked once again.

”I don’t feel like explaining it to one of the pointed caps… now, can you leave? I want to focus on mastering this spell, instead of talking with some ignorant fool.” Coco said, getting quite annoyed with Qifery.

"Coco, I'm not leaving, not when you're all alone.. I don't want you to get hurt again. Now, can you... At least tell me some stuff about the brimmed caps? Since you're apart of them, I presume you know some... Stuff, that us pointed caps don't." Qifery asked, trying to change the topic to something else. He didn't want to use this situation for his personal gain - one of his (former) apprentices has been turned into a brimhat member! But... Coco wasn't gonna cooperate until he regained her trust, so he had to talk with her a little.

"I'm not telling you anything. Listen, just because I used to be your apprentice doesn't mean I'm gonna be nice to you. You're still apart of the group of people who betrayed me! Now, I'll be taking my leave. I don't need to converse with some ignorant fool." Coco said, just... Not wanting to deal with Qifery.

Coco stood up to leave, but was stopped by Qifery grabbing her wrist.

"I'm not letting you leave. You're just a child who-"

Qifery was interrupted by Coco.

"I'M NOT JUST A CHILD! I'M MORE MATURE THEN YOU'D THINK!" Coco screamed, easily pulling her hand away from Qifery.

Coco made a run for it, and easily got away from Qifery... Having completely forgotten to grab the items she was using for practice. But that didn't matter, not to Qifery.

He just needed to find Coco again, and take her back.

Take her back where she belongs.

~ The end ~

... But is this really it?