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#snatcher loaf
balatrospades · 3 months
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snatcher!! included the sketch and the bonus of snatcher loaf
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zephyntus · 1 year
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arrival in fodlan
when he first lost his family he was only five years old, too young to understand the very gravity of the situation— nor the wheres and the whys and certainty not the hows. arthur remembers very specifically not crying for days, deciding— knowing that he would find his mother and his sister again. no one in his village paid attention to him, though they were hardly ever mean to him. he had the blood of a friege, no, of a traitor to the friege family. anyone who tried to take him into their home would surely be punished for their actions.
as a child, he ignored all the eyes on him as he tried to survive for himself for that first week alone. of course it was impossible to be five and live alone. arthur now knows this, but the arthur from all that time ago was so foolishly set on making a life on his own. thrown a loaf of bread or two out of pity and left to find a home for himself… to think he could make it without anyone at his side was impossible.
if it were not for the woman he’d met on the village next over to the one he’d lived with his mother and sister in, he would not have made it another day. this he knows now, and he wishes he had thanked her for doing such a kind thing before he’d finally left to find tine. she was the only person there in his life for him for so very long.
she was also the only adult he’d ever cried in front of. headstrong and stubborn he was, but when showed the kindness of a mother in a time where he’d lost everyone he loved, he sobbed. she laughed so very lovingly when he first clung to her shirt, rubbing circles in his back and patting the very tresses of his hair that so resembled his mother. she understood him in a time where he was alone.
she was a busy woman, but she was the only home that he had any memory of. just as arthur wished that he’d thanked her, he wished that he told her that before he finally left to find his sister. this was a weakness of his, often unable to be honest about his feelings without coming off brash or uncouth. though logical his brain was, emotions were never something he could ever plan enough for. you couldn’t strategize your way out of a tearful reunion like you could a skirmish with bandits, a purse snatcher, or even starvation.
arthur lets out a soft sigh while the wind whips through his hair, looking out onto the ocean blue with only the most thoughtful gazes. traveling across the ocean to attend a military academy wasn’t something he ever thought he would do— especially not with pirates.
but only pirates were insane enough to undertake such a long voyage. the mage begins to second guess himself as he settles against the railing with a frown. everything he needed in life he had learned by himself, did he really need so fancy a setup that he was willing to work with pirates to get there?
and he was leaving tine alone back in friege, only her cousins to support her. he hadn’t told her of his plans either— just decided one day to board a ship to fodlan.
this was the only way he could get stronger though, for her sake. he couldn’t come to fodlan with these half-assed convictions if he wanted to protect her. the mage grunts in frustration, shaking his head. she would be alright by herself, just for a while. it wasn’t like she was weak herself.
no. rather, tine was one of the strongest people he knew. that’s why he needed to get stronger, so he could protect her in situations even she couldn’t get out of by herself. if she was stronger than him, he couldn’t do that. he couldn’t be the one being protected by her.
“oi, lad!” arthur doesn’t startle, turning his head at the sound of the pirate who had accepted him onto the ship. “what is it?” he asks with a light bit of annoyance involved in his tone. “are ye gonna stand there lookin all starry eyed or are ye gonna join us for a game a’ poker or two?”
he blinks once or twice, considering the offer. there certainly was a lot of time to pass, and standing here mulling over his thoughts would be an agonizing way to do so. “alright, sure.” he ultimately decides with a shrug. “don’t be surprised if i beat all of you, though.” he taunts with a smirk as he descends the steps into the personal quarters. poker was something he was familiar with enough to be confident playing other people in. even pirates.
“royal flush!” arthur slams his hand of cards down with a self-satisfied smirk, while the pirates all playing with him gawk at his hand. he doesn’t blame them with the money involved. “you’re cheatin’ !” one of them shouts, getting onto their feet. his head almost meets the ceiling with how low it is. “cheating my ass! that was pure strategy, pat me down if you want but you won’t find anything!” the wind mage meets with the same energy, standing up himself.
the leader, the man who had invited him to play outright laughs at the display.  “sit down you two! lad over here won fair and square— i was watchin’ him to make sure he ain’t pull nothin’ funny.”
“but—!”
“oscar, don’t play with me now. you’ve cheated multiple times in these games and we’ve always lets it go!” his voice turns a bit sharper and arthur has to wonder if this is a regular occurrence occurrence as he settles back down on the wooden floor.
the accused man grumbles and sits back as well. though he’d been initially challenged, he can’t help but feel a sense of pride as the money all pours towards him. this wasn’t something he’d learned from a tutor or professor, this was something he’d taught himself all on his own— watching dealers hands in pubs and observing how the winners displayed themselves and played their hands.
he had a great poker face, but it was hard not to snicker after the game was won. “alright, few more games!” he cheers, while some groan over the amount of money they’ve lost. 
though he lost track of how long they’d played in the end he left with more money than he came with. they were all fair players, if a bit salty about their losses. he exits the quarters and stretches his arms, glad to be about fresh air after being stuck in those small cabins. the game was fun but being so cramped was not.
it was dark out now, and arthur found himself thinking about what awaited him in fodlan with nothing to distract him. he thinks to a story told to him from a wandering bard about a pair of siblings separated at birth. the very same bard who had taught him wind magic…. and a man he didn’t remember the name or face of.
if there was anyone he owed his strength in battle to, it was that very man. he wouldn’t have picked up wind magic without him.
“boo!” arthur is actually physically startled this time and he whips around with his hand thrown out, body instinctively ready to cast his usual wind magic at the sign of a threat. “woah lad, s’just me.” arthur lets out a sigh, lowering his hand.
“don’t scare a trained mage like that next time. you’re lucky i stopped myself.” he grunts, turning away from the captain again.
“say lad’, what’s with the frequent starry eyed looks out into the ocean?” the captain asks with a curious probing gaze that he can feel down to his bones. “… s’nothin. i’m just thinking about the journey i’m making.” he mutters.
“nah, its more than that.” the pirate captain points out easily, stubbornly. arthur recognizes that he isn’t gonna get out of this without spilling some personal stuff about himself.
“ugh fine.” he rolls his eyes. “i’m just thinking about… my role in life. the decisions i’ve made to come to this point.” he says all this as he turns to face him again.
“had a hard one, have ye?” he’s not gentle about his point, and arthur has to laugh. it reminds him of himself— perhaps cruelly. “yeah i guess? but i’m not gonna bore you with all the details. i have a sister to protect, that’s all. that’s my role in my life, a protector…” he trails off, his sister’s warm gaze coming to mind. he existed like this still for her sake.
he would never have been so adamant about making a life on his own if he had never had another family to return to.
“sounds to me like yer boring me with all the details anyways.” a cheeky response that causes arthur’s face to turn pink. “shut up, you wanted an answer to the question in the first place!”
“i’m just fuckin with ya!” the captain lets out a crude laugh and again arthur rolls his eyes. pirates. “seriously though, this sister? she important to you?”
“very.” he nods with a steeled gaze. “i’m traveling to fodlan for her. so i can become stronger and learn to truly protect her.” he smiles, patting him on the shoulder. 
“you frieges, only the most stubborn little shits.” arthur blinks, watching as the captain retreats. it isnt until he’s almost to the quarters entrance that arthur shouts after him with frustration evident in his voice, realizing how he'd been duped.
“are you fucking with me again!? how’d you know i’m a friege!?”
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Why can I see Snatcher doing the Cat-loaf thing? Help, that thought is way too cute for my mind...
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Catboys
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bittybattybunny · 3 years
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New halloween fic up!!!
Hattie wants to get her mom a partner, shenanigans!
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plushieinsurgents · 2 years
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31 with Feuilly and Éponine for the touch ask!
"Okay!" said I, and proceeded to forget all about it for half a year.
I really have to start keeping track of my projects >_<
***
"There was another one of these under the bed. And then, these." Feuilly placed the scuffed boot back next to its twin, and emptied his menagerie of hats, caps and one curious mortarboard onto the table. Bahorel scrutinized the pile and picked out the mortarboard, holding its brim carefully between his fingers.
"... I believe this is mine."
"Curious," Feuilly observed. "And its not just these too. Belts, buckles, pocket watches, of all shapes and sizes, in and out of fashion."
"Congratulations," Grantaire said dryly. "You have been visited by the haberdashery fairy. O sylph of providence, who scours Mother Paris of her lawyers and makes of them bareheaded geese! By the pillow of the worthy-"
Bahorel swiped Grantaire's hat from his head. "There. Now you're one yourself. And this is slander. At no point did my mortarboard come in contact with my head. But I do remember leaving it on the nightstand, by the window." [1]
"A thief, then. A window-snatcher. I've heard of a man who shattered a window with his fist for a loaf of bread." pondered Courfeyrac. "Of course, it gets tricky once your lodgings are concerned, Feuilly. If our Robin Hood (in an insufferable English accent) leaves a trail the gendarmie might find the spare pamphlets. And the cartridges."
"I shall stay up tonight," Feuilly responded. "If the thief is to swell his collection no doubt I shall catch him - or, in any case, if he sees me I shall dissuade him from leaving his stash in my lodgings."
***
May had been exceptionally sanguine - the nights were warm and wide-awake. It was no waste of sleep to sit up against the headrails of his bed to finish painting the copy of Venus and her nymphs on all the extra fan leaves he had taken from the atelier to work on. With luck, he gathered, Mr. Robin Hood would not be too long and he shall catch a decent amount of sleep before morning.
Only an hour later did Feuilly find a tentative foot in a man's shoe several sizes too big through the window - then another, and up came a spectre of a gamin wearing a woman's smock, lanky and crooked and wild-eyed with hunger. Stopping by the window he bent over to remove his shoes, picking at its laces and laying them on the windowsill with a childlike reverence, and crept over, stooping for his leather pouch, to Feuilly's bedside, where their eyes met.
In the moment of uncomfortable silence Feuilly realized that his gamin was, in fact, a gamine, somewhere between sixteen and sixty.
"Ah-" he began. The gamine bunched up her skirts and swiveled out through the door.
Realizing that he was still in his shirtsleeves, Feuilly threw on his coat and followed suit, up the corridor, and down the stairwell, where the girl's bare feet thumped rather than clattered.
The concierge kept the front door locked at night; the gamine dodged around the banister on the bottom landing and wriggled out through the kitchen window. Feuilly climbed out in pursuit, conscientiously slipping it shut from the inside as he jumped off the sill.[2] And the gamine was nowhere to be seen.
At least, she was very hard to see when not moving. A few more steps in the direction of the main street revealed her, whistling with her hands in her pockets in the shadow just two paces beside a gas lamp. It was a trick Feuilly remembered from his childhood - as long as a gamin made an effort to disappear into the street as if they were minding their own business, they would be invisible, or at least unaccusable. A buzzing quarter full of late-night theatre-goers and drunkards is good enough a cover, but unfortunately for the gamine, in this corner of Paris everyone went to bed early.
Feuilly approached. The girl started, but did not run.
"It is very late," he stated, "and dangerous out. Have you a place to stay?"
The girl hit a shrill note. She seems to be making an active effort to ignore him.
"What is that you're leaving in my rooms?" Feuilly asked again.
"Brujon picked it, you know. So it has nothing to do with me." she turned her pockets out, in, then out again anxiously.
"Picked what?"
"The spot!" the gamine dug irritably at a bit of pocket lint stuck in her fingernails. Up close she looked even thinner, and awfully small for her age. Feuilly remembered his wages in his pocket, and very nearly reached for it, until he remembered himself. It would have been improper.
"It isn't worth it." Feuilly said. "That business - hats, and buckles, and all - they'll land you in the Madelonettes. My atelier will take girls your age for night shifts. It's not so very bad."
"I've already ended in the Madelonettes," the girl replied, somewhat chillingly. "With my Maman and my little sister. It's not so very bad," in a mockery of Feuilly's own tone.
"Is your father elsewhere?"
"Nowhere."
"Go home to your mother,"
"She's still behind bars. Its cold, and damp like hell in the place. And her cough's getting worse. She shan't be able to work once she's out, if that's what you mean,"
She had began to pace unconsciously as she spoke with a childlike stammer, and Feuilly drifted next to her, quite unconsciously too. They turned the corner to the square, where tiny streams of people - bouquets of grisettes here and there, and the occasional swarm of inebriated gentlemen - tottered about like actors on a stage.
Feuilly felt for his pocket, entered a bakery and emerged with a significantly lighter pocket and six rolls, gone cold but not yet gone stale. He handed one over, and folded the other five into his coat.
"I shall send your mother this next morning - and ask the gaoler for news, if any is to be had. Your name is-?" [3]
The girl looked disbelievingly up from her roll. "My name is - do not mention my name. I ran away." She paused there, as if waiting for an outburst. When she didn't get one, she continued, doggedly, "What's in it for you?"
"I? Oh-" Feuilly fingered at the knee-patch of his trousers. "Well, I did tell you we are a few night-shift copiers short. Girls your age can do it; I can teach you to sketch paintings for ladies' fans, if you'd like. I won't be around in my flat by day; perhaps you can stay there, then."
"All this for what?"
"For your recruitment in the atelier, and perhaps-" Feuilly struggled to put this in words. Perhaps it was his childish dream to adopt the world, all over again. But if his rooms couldn't take the world at large, it could take a girl off the hands of thieves.
The girl had bitten into the roll; it was soft still, under the crust, and she traced the patchwork of paving stones with her eyes, an elbow rested on her knee.
"That's alright, I suppose," she said, slowly, at length, extending, with all the gravity of a businessman, her pinky finger. "Promise?"
Feuilly locked his pinky with hers, and they shook hands with a tentative, but slowly trusting solemnity.
"Promise."
***
Footnotessssssssss:
1. Many people I know get confused at the "mortarboard on a nightstand" line about Bahorel, but this forum from China explains that 19th century nightstands... are for chamberpots. Hugo gave Bahorel an in-description toilet joke.
2. In fact, that resulted in them being locked out for the rest of the night. Cue much screaming.
3. If I'm not very wrong, Mme. Thénardier should be dead by now. That would not go very well.
This is FILLED with evidence that I totally rushed it, but if I didn't I might forget that this draft existed and then start a new one :P
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I dug into the snatchers and queen Vanessa’s lore and I’d like to just say that ugly ass woman can suck my nuts and die bc she’s an abusive harpy who couldn’t let her man enjoy food, have a job, have a Tudor/study, or LIKE THE FUCKING MOON bc of how obsessed she was with him like goddamn no wonder you went bonkers and you’re miserable you’re the most unlikeable thing since the end piece of a bread loaf i hope you suffer until your dying breath you ugly ass blonde bitch
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i just imagined the cute confused faces on the train cats and then them just plopping down and loafing on the tracks and awwww that mental image made me smile, also i love how snatcher refused to even risk hurting them that was sweet, 10/10 would love seeing snatcher causing non lethal pandemonium again
Yes! Giant loaf kitties!
Snatcher has a soft spot for them because I’m a sucker for grumpy mean people loving animals. But yes! Snatcher causing problems but not actually hurting anyone is something he needs to do more, I love writing it. xD
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ravensroleplays · 4 years
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Child Crystal and Hat Kid, seeing Snatcher loaf: Kitty! *runs over to hug Snatcher to hug him* Snatcher: *just smiles*
Snatcher: Ah, what the hey? *Hugs them back* 
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the-tired-dumbasses · 4 years
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Snatcher: *Loafing* Jeremy F.: Hey, have you seen Eggshell anywhere? Snatcher: Okay Tiny Cat, I think it's time for you to go. Eggshell: *Suddenly popping out of Snatcher's floof, meowing*
Jeremy F.: Wow, that’s adorable!
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princely-snatcher · 5 years
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Before Snatcher was an odd little sight. A blue loaf-like creature was laying on the ground, abut 5 inches in length and less than half of that in height. Blue flames burned off of their entire person. It looked up at him (best as it could without a neck) with an uncertain expression. This odd purple thing felt a bit nasty, emotion wise. They didn't feel like it was a good idea to stay. Thus it made the decision to start wiggle away. Their speed was about the same as a snail, if not less.(It me)
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Well this was odd, to say the least. Snatcher honestly had nothing to go on about how to treat a loaf of fire. If he didn’t know better he would say it was Malva… but she’s not that small. Or stubby. Should… should he pick it up? Leave it? Perhaps it’s mom was looking for it. It certainly wasn’t old enough to sign a contract.
Snatcher settled on the forest floor as he pondered the state of things. One one hand, he didn’t feel attached to this little oddity, but on the other, he knew a bird or something was bound to carry it away if he just let it go. He put his chin on the back of his hand as he studied Malva.
“What are you, little thing?” He pondered aloud.
@littlexbluexflame
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bencvolences · 6 years
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WHEN: october 11th, 7:40pm WHERE: the great hall, then a nearby corridor(?) WHO: @trcydvs​
Caught by a group of snatchers. Sent to Azkaban. The words had been ringing in Sally-Anne’s ears all day since she’d heard them, and her heart was aching for poor Dennis Creevey, even though she didn’t know the boy. She was consumed with worry for her parents --- it could have been them. It might be them next. The theoretical image of her Dad, his brown eyes devoid of their usual warmth as he sat behind bars (or worse, as they stared unblinkingly upwards, never to see the light of day again), filled her with dread and an apprehensiveness she couldn’t soothe. 
She could go to her closest friends for comfort, she knew that, but in times like these it was helpful to be around someone who understood completely what she was going through --- and her mind immediately went to Tracey. Sally-Anne knew that being around her would, as it always did, make her feel relaxed and nostalgic. Tracey reminded her of home, of family, of summer visits eating sticky ribs and drinking ice cold pumpkin juice in the Davis’ backyard, the girls laughing together while Sally-Anne’s dad played a song on his guitar. She was familiar, and that easiness was exactly what Sally-Anne needed. Not to mention that she was eager for the chance to check up on Tracey, see how she was doing with all the news floating around. 
One of the many advantages to being in Hufflepuff was a close proximity to the kitchens, and a close acquaintance with the house-elves who worked within it. Tonight, Sally-Anne snuck in and had her bag filled with fruits, breads, cheeses, and a large bottle of pumpkin juice, hoping that Tracey would agree to abandon the great hall for dinner with her. As much as Sally-Anne usually loved being among the crowds during mealtimes and seeing all her friends, today she needed to breathe. 
She caught Tracey as she was entering the great hall with a couple Slytherins, heart already warming with that nostalgic feeling as she pulled her aside. 
“Hey, any chance you’d want to slip away for this one?” Sally-Anne offered, opening her bag slightly to show her all the food inside. “Feels like I haven’t seen you in forever. Besides, I persuaded the house-elves to give me this freshly baked french loaf that should still be all nice and warm and amazing.”
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Laser pointer: *exists* HK:...*evil snicker and probably destroys Vanessa's Manor with Snatcher chasing the red dot* (Same anon who asked for Snatch Loaf. XD)
true yeah
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rjdavies · 3 years
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End of Times … Part Five
We are indeed fragile creatures.
We are just a bunch of little humans living on a rock that is hurdling through space. One word comes to mind … Fragile! We don’t realize how fragile our existence really is.
This is a blog series of End of the World Scenarios ….
Alien Invasion
One of my favourite topics of discussion, you invite me out for coffee and then talk about alien invasions ... I’ll be under your spell
Picture 1938 our Prime Minister was William Lyon Mackenzie King, David Helwig, Gordon Lightfoot, and Rich Little were born. Cost 9 cents for a loaf of bread, and 12 cents for a pound of hamburger. Minimum wage was 25 cent/hour. Could buy a car for $760. On my mum’s side my grandpa was 15 years old and my grandma was 9. 
War of the Worlds by H. G. Wells was written in 1901 and was read on the radio at the end of October in 1938. It was just a great reading that the world thought aliens were taking over the world!
Another favourite all time book is The Body Snatchers by Jack Finney in 1955. I’ve seen the movies versions one in 1956, 1978 and 1993. I have seen them all a couple of times with the one in 1978 being by far my favourite and I’ve seen it more times than I care to admit.
If there is an alien movie out there you can bet your aunt Bibbity’s ass I’ve seen it.
books:
War of the Worlds by H. G. Wells
Day of the Triffids by John Wyndham (another favourite of mine)
Movies:
The Body Snatchers (1978)
The Thing
Species
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“Considering the number of planets and stars that we know exist, it's extremely unlikely that we are the only form of evolved life.” - Stephen Hawking  “Two possibilities exist: either we are alone in the Universe or we are not. Both are equally terrifying.”   - Arthur C. Clarke
“Why should earth be the only planet supporting human life?” - Albert Einstein
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Have an awesome evening!
R. J. Davies
A Riveting Jack-In Dreamy Mind-Bender
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bloglumfia · 4 years
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For Educators That Train Offshore, The World Is Their Classroom
I am certain that you also know a female who includes a good reputation. People attest to her strength and uprightness. She features a status for kindness because she produced that impression in the thoughts of individuals who know her through her regular acts of kindness and integrity. In social circumstances, persons relate with you centered in your reputation.
You first produce a good reputation, and then the excellent name produces a good potential for you. Never develop doubt in people's heads throughout your measures about who you're or that which you stand for. Generally behave in consonance together with your best values and beliefs. Live your life in this way that whenever people discuss you, they will have just good things to say. Never bargain your values since it could entirely destroy your reputation.
As an example, if that you do not desire to be called a husband-snatcher don't loaf around married men. Some single women have committed guys as their finest buddies however they question why they have such a poor reputation. Such ladies tell you that it is nobody's business who they have as friends. But the reality of the situation is that who we associate with influences people's belief of who we are.
If you are perceived as a husband- Reputation Lady as an example, married women may wish to have nothing regarding you. Bachelors that are ready for marriage might find you as a'huge lady'who is out with'huge boys'and doesn't have goal to getting married. If you want to modify that belief, then you should modify everything you do and people might find you differently.
There's plenty of function to accomplish before the college year begins. One of these simple is to write give proposals for knowledge, which seeks to make dreams come true. Through a high-paying job consequently of larger training, people can manage to obtain an improved living earlier or later.
Essentially, you will find grants made to give hope to individuals and organizations that intend to follow the need of men and women to keep their training, especially in a trustworthy school or university. Aside from individual businesses, several federal and state agencies may also be in the business of giving assistance on the cornerstone of need, applying public resources converted into grants for instructional purposes.
Rather than hanging out fretting about how and where they are able to get money to pay for school expenses, student applicants must look for grants which are designed to be utilized for sometimes whole or incomplete school payments. Perhaps the beneficiary is enrolled in a university, college, community college, technical school, or a career-specific college, numerous funding applications in their state and state could be applied for if they simply know where to look.
Obtaining funding for a worthwhile task or cause is a hard task. Ergo, it's clear that published task proposal may not focus on the first effort, while it might go through a revision process. Then you, the grant seeker, ask: how are you going to get this done? Planning grant proposals for training needs careful planning and examine to create it function its purpose to give applicants.
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ravensroleplays · 4 years
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Eggshell: *starts kneading in Snatcher’s floof* Snatcher: Awww, thanks small cat.
Before he can stop himself, Snatcher soon finds himself loafing and doing a cat smile XD
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