#and they said art isn’t exercise!

[feeders-guide-to-gainers]

Feeders guide!

The importance of keeping track:

It’s crucial to keep your gainer on track! A lot of chubs require a certain degree of supervision! If they want to get fat they gotta eat! If your gainer isn’t completely self sufficient in the art of gaining it might be time to start Calorie counting together! If your gainer is not yet considered “overweight” then it might be time to get a meal plan and calorie counter started! Logging calories helps you keep track of your goals! Most beginner gainers start with 2900-3500 calories a day with MINIMAL exercise!

Some important numbers to remember:

Essential Body Fat: 2-4%

Athletes Body Fat: 5-13%

Healthy Fit Body Fat: 14-17%

Overweight Body Fat: 18-23%

Obese Body Fat: 24%+

Calorie Intakes:

Double check your gainers intake and Weight prediction based on this calculator!!!

This will save you lots of guessing!!! For example my Daily Minimum for 2lbs a week! Doing nothing but the bare minimum of activity, basically a couch potato I need to consume a total of 3,200 calories a day!!!!

Good ways to motivate your Gainers:

Clothes are EXPENSIVE so make your gainers wear their clothes till they become unwearable! Now I’m not saying send your chubs out into the world with only shirts that expose their mid-drift without raising their hands! Certainly don’t do that. What I mean is let the buttons pop let the pants rip when at home it should be shirtless or skin tight as motivation to upgrade. This will save you some money for the time being, getting an accurate size on your fatty will not only encourage them but feel like a reward! This isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, however speaking from experience….going from a Medium to a Large is short lived and I wish I just held off until I reached XL’s! Save your money!!! If it’s unbearable wearing always trust what the gainer says it’s their body! You are just a big cog in the machine that’s to be your Gainer!

Friends outside of feeders:

Most gainers should do their best to make friends with other gainers! Feeders this will be super helpful to progressing their gains!! If even the people they hang out with are fat pigs and gainers they will automatically start to pick up on their eating habits too. While a Feeder takes a lot of credit for the beauty that will become a gainers belly, have friends to get them eating too will be helpful. There is nothing wrong with Feeders sharing the fun too!!! Make a gainer friend together feed your gainer and your newly found friend at the same time! A gainer will never say no to some nice belly rubs and a big meal! Being fat can easily be influenced! Make good friends with gaining influence!!!

Weigh In’s

While watching those numbers go up is exciting…sometimes you hit Plateaus and weighing yourself gainer everyday can hurt their motivation or self esteem! That being said! 2-4 Weigh in’s a month is good enough! Never let your big boys weigh in EVERYDAY!!!

Spicing up the bedroom!

While a lot of this is for the gainer’s benefit Feeders this is where a lot of the fun begins! Here are a list of things to try out with your Gainer when you want to get more intimate-

Bring a few fast food meals and feed them to your gainer while in some tight clothes.

Putting your gainers in Jock Straps!

Making delicious gainer shakes

Now while these are great options there is yet another option! WARNING most gainers start off having a hard time with these but after the weight starts to pile on Gainers will become dependent upon these. They do become addictive. Some people naturally like it but myself it took time!

BOOST VHS it is a small portion and 530 calories! When I tell you having 3 meals and 3 of these small shakes your gainer will BLOW UP in a matter of weeks!!

Belly play! If your gainer has a nice over hang slap it grab it shake it jiggle it rub it! All of that!

This one is going to sound strange but after the first 40+ pounds their chest should be bigger and nipples either puffy or soft. That being said nipples become sensitive and sucking them and playing with them can stimulate a very good sexual response.

Get them on their hands and knees make them eat without using their hands! Make sure to feel them up praise them for eating everything and treat them right!

Massage their prostate while they eat on their hands and knees!

Call them those special names they like so much! Check out my other post to see them all but this is your Pig/your fatty/ your fat fuck!

Start teaching them how to bottom if they don’t already. Topping burns more calories than taking it while lying on your back.

If you are someone that isn’t into shrinking dicks the fat pad will mostly steal a few inches from your gainer. Politely as about using a penis pump and making sure that they aren’t using chastity cages to stunt growth. This is so your gainer can maintain topping but a feeder should practice riding on top while your chubby man relaxes!

If you are okay with the fat pad eating away at the inches of your gainers dick. Don’t let them masterbate, and use chastity cages/belts to prevent them from touching them self! Make sure they are achievable calories or finishing meals before letting them take it off!

Feeding with tight clothes on! When a belly is bloated enough you can certainly pop buttons!

Make sure you are giving and receiving consent and everything that you do only makes the feeder and gainer(s) feel good!

The key to happiness is through the stomach so fill it up with food!

[bunniesanddeer]

Hi! I hope you’re having a wonderful day or night.

I saw your asks are open and I had an idea. What if it’s a protective Alastor x Reader who is the daughter of a protective Lucifer? Maybe she kept in contact with her dad so they are closer and she is older than Charlie. When Lucifer comes to visit the hotel him and Alastor cause some drama

Thanks!

W.P💚

I hope this is what you were looking for? I am very new to doing things like this!

Daddy's Girl

Pairing: Alastor X Lucifer's Daughter! Reader

Tags: Sisterly love, some sexual connotations, spoilers, some angst maybe? idk, swearing, Mimzy.

SPOILERS FOR "DAD BEAT DAD"

Word Count: 1,775

The hotel was eerily quiet when you awoke, so you made your way downstairs to see if anyone was awake. All you could hear as you made your way down the stairs was your quiet footfalls and weird murmuring. As you turned towards the sitting area, you realized the muttering was coming from your younger sister, Charlie.

Charlie was pacing back and forth in front of a pin board covered in colorful papers, and strings. She tugged at her hair, her muttering growing more frantic. As you took in the scene, you realized there were a few people standing and watching her. Niffty was bouncing on the couch, her face full of a strange glee. Husk and Sir Pentious were watching with mixes of bafflement and curiosity.

“Hey, Char Char? Are you ok?” You asked, walking around the couch to get a better view. You saw Angel and Vaggie approach from your peripherals as Charlie whipped around frantically.

“Nope! No. Not really! Haha. Hah…” Her false smile falls as she rips a page off the board. “I have been up all night trying to figure out why the hotel isn’t working! We’ve done every single trust exercise and arts and crafts project I could find! We’ve talked about our feelings and… nothing is working!”

You frown. You knew that things taking so long would eventually get to her, but it was sad to see just how severely. She needed more help. 

You walk up to your sister, and set your hands on her shoulders. “I think…”

Her expression collapses. “Please don’t say it.”

“We should call dad. And ask for his help.”

She winces. She clearly doesn’t want your dad’s help. You can’t exactly blame her, either. The two of you were raised a little separate, and it had affected her relationship with Lucifer pretty badly. Although, you were older, and it had afforded you time with Lucifer before Lilith had started to separate herself from him. Charlie had only had a handful of years before their relationship went south. It showed in her anxiety with him, and Lucifer’s inability to talk to Charlie openly. It made you sad, but you weren’t sure how to fix that rift.

“He’s the reason the extermination happens to begin with! He just let it happen! He doesn’t even like sinners! Why would he help me?” Charlie hugs herself, looking off to the side. “He’s always preferred you anyway.”

You hear some audible winces from the audience by the couch, but you ignore them. You pull her into a tight hug, her taller frame putting you at her collarbones. “You know I would change that if I could, honey.” You squeeze her tightly and say, “We can at least see if he can get you a meeting. Anything to give you the advantage, Char Char.”

She sighs, and hugs you back. “Yeah. I guess we can at least try.”

You pull back. “I think you should call him. I bet he’s dying to hear from you, even though he sucks at showing it.”

Charlie rubs her arm and nods. “Alright. I’ll do it!”

As she struggles to start the phone call, Husk makes comments about her having ‘Daddy Issues’, and you blanch. How rude! (Even if it was true). The others make comments about meeting Lucifer, but you and Vaggie just keep your eyes on Charlie. She seems so nervous, and it makes your stomach twist in knots. 

She finally calls. It rings three times before a faint, “Heyyyy bitch!” rings out on the other end of the line. You facepalm. Good going Dad.

When all is said and done, Lucifer announces he is visiting within the hour, after much cajoling and guilt-tripping on Charlie’s part. Although, from what you could hear, he seemed excited.

Charlie is excited, and so is everyone else in the hotel. You cheer for her, and then the realization hits you. 

Alastor. Fuck.

As the final touches are finished, you sidle up to Alastor with a small grin.

“Please, please don’t start shit. Charlie needs this to work. And I need this to work for Charlie,” you murmur to him. 

He barely glances at you. “Worry not, sweetheart! You know I would never do anything to risk the reputation of the hotel! Charlie will get the help she needs!” His arm wraps around your shoulders, and he squeezes you into his side. For just a moment, his head ducks down, and he whispers into your ear. “Just need to make it clear whose little girl you are now.” Then he perks right back up like nothing happened.

Your face burns hot. How dare he! But you don’t get to do anything in retaliation, because Charlie is opening the door.

“Chaaaaarlie!” Lucifer exclaims, immediately pulling her into a tight embrace. Your sister’s face is full of shock, and you just want to laugh. Ha! You were right! He continues talking to her in the slightest baby voice, and you can’t help but let some giggles escape you. Your dad could be just so silly! “Oh, it’s so good to see you!”

He lets go of Charlie as she welcomes him to the hotel. He spots Keekee first, and pets her. Then greets Razzle and Dazzle. You watch from the sidelines with a small smile. It was nice seeing your dad outside the home. He had been holing himself up for so long… You look up at Alastor, who hasn’t moved an inch since your dad came in.

You elbow him gently. “You okay?”

Alasotr’s expression is tight. His eyes flicker to you for a moment, before landing back on your father. He merely hums in response, making you frown. How odd… You knew the two wouldn’t get along, but for Alastor to dislike him already?

 Then your dad spots the bar. “Oh! What in the unholy Hell is that?” 

Alastor immediately shadow-walks to the other side of the room, and you know it’s time to intervene.

“Oh! Just some of the renovations we’ve made.” Alastor gestures with his mic, before continuing. “Adds a bit of color, don’t you think?” 

You wince, and make your way to Alastor’s side. 

“Hey, Dad,” you say, trying to prevent your dad making any further comments on the decor. That's a good way to piss off Alastor.

“Sweetheart!” Your dad runs up to you, and tries picking you up. You laugh at the tights squeeze. “How’s my girl?” His hands squish your cheeks, making it hard to respond.

You giggle through the ministrations, and finally push his hands back so you can respond. “I’m doing great, Dad. Figured I should introduce you to Alastor here.” You gesture to Alastor, who looks the closest to not smiling that you have ever seen. It makes your stomach feel like lead, as you keep talking. “He’s our facilities' manager, and my…”

Your voice trails off, and you look at Alastor, as if hoping he has the word you are looking for.

“I’m her lover!” Alastor exclaims, quite loudly. His static drops for a moment and then bursts back up in volume, making you wince. Great. He just announced that to everyone in the room. The ‘everyone’ being everyone who didn’t know. You can hear Charlie ‘whoop!’ in the background, and several variations of ‘what the fuck’. “She’s quite the darling. I just couldn’t resist this sweet face!” Alastor grabs at your cheeks, similar to how your dad did, and squishes them. “See?”

You risk a glance at your dad. He looks ready to kill. Fuck. This is absolutely not how you wanted to tell your dad. He nearly killed the last partner you had for ghosting you. You can see your dad’s horns growing, and you push Alastor back.

“Haha! Yeah. Uh. Sorry. I would have told you before now, but we’re kind of new! We were trying to keep it on the down-low for now but…” You glare at Alastor, but he just has this shit-eating grin on his face, and you know he doesn’t care. 

“Right.” Your dad continues glaring at Alastor. You wince, and decide to go over by the snack table. Angel is just giving you this look, and you know he will be asking about Alastor’s dick, which you have not seen, later. Husk seems disappointed in you, and you absolutely know why. You just give him an apologetic shrug, and watch as Alastor and your dad seem to start a pissing match. 

It ends with Alastor in his face saying, “Fuck you,” and your knees nearly give out. Holy shit. 

Charlie finally intervenes, and Lucifer, after some more glaring at Alastor, get her to introduce him to the rest of the residents.

Alastor lays a hand on your shoulder as your dad greets both the guests and the staff. You can feel his thumb rubbing back and forth, and it sends shivers down your spine. You look up at Alastor, but his gaze is still locked on your dad. Annoyed, you roll your eyes with a huff, and look back to the meet-and-greet. Your dad is looking back at you, his frown deep, and a barely audible growl making its way to your ears. Your dad is fucking growling at Alastor. What the Hell?

A rumble builds up in Alastor’s chest, and you can feel it against your back. This one sets heat back up to your face. Gosh, this man needed to get his shit together. No need to start stuff with your dad! Alastor’s hand tightens on your shoulder, before he lets go and stalks back towards Charlie, who is trying to convince your dad to help her. 

And then they’re singing. Because of course. Alastor joins in, saying some things that seem to really piss off your dad, but you can't hear much over the blood rushing in your ears. Sometimes these two could be so embarrassing. When your dad pulls out the golden fiddle, you nearly die laughing. (He still wasn’t over losing that one time!) Everything comes to a head, with the two men yelling insults in each other's faces, when suddenly-

“It’s ME!” A woman barges in through the lobby doors, yelling and calling herself Mimzy. She’s blonde, and dressed like a flapper. Alastor seems to recognize her, so you don’t worry. 

Later that night, when your dad has finally agreed to help your sister get that meeting, you all settle onto the couches, making a game plan. Alastor sits beside you, one foot resting on the other knee. You lean over and ask softly, “What did you say during that song, anyway?”

Alastor’s grin sharpens, and he presses his lips near your ear, again. “Charlie calls me dad, and your eldest calls me Daddy.”

If you nearly choke on your own spit, you refuse to admit it. 

[west-brooke]

He’s fine guys he said so himself! That was his voice, right?

Details + old art below hehe

Remaking a four year old au I made back in 2020 when I watched rottmnt for the very first time! This was before the movie came out, and a lot of the themes and tropes from this old au got repurposed into my fic New Hardware lol. Its good to know I always liked bugs and also was evil 💜

I actually made this before I watched tmnt 2012, so it isn’t really based on the infamous wasp episode, but it could definitely be adjacent to that lol. It kinda freaked me out how much my art has improved since then, so I figured I’d pay homage to my past self by making art for her idea.

In terms of updated design, the old parasite was based on centipedes I think, but I’ve updated it to be based on my favorite fucked up looking worm guy, the bobbit worm. As for the basic story, essentially Donnie falls prey to a parasitic worm dude which does mind control about it to keep itself alive and also to try and synthesize more of its mind control venom and create copies of itself using Donnie’s science know-how.

Idk if I’ll do anything with this AU, depends how I’m feeling lol. Just thought it’d be a fun little exercise mostly.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Emotions (Sadness)

Sadness can manifest differently in different people. Here are some notes on writing sad characters in your stories/poetry.

Sadness: Other Words to Use

HIGH grieved, crushed, gloomy, hopeless, heartbroken, devastated, despairing, distraught, heavy hearted, miserable MODERATE dejected, dismayed, hurt, hurting, disillusioned, downcast, forlorn, glum, cheerless, melancholy LOW down, disappointed, blue, discouraged, low, somber, sorry, unhappy

Sadness: Some Phrases to Use

A wave of sadness

Irremediable sorrow (impossible to cure/put right)

A sob rose in my throat

A pining melancholy

A plaintive cry (mournful)

A great pang gripped his heart

Her eyes were prickling with tears

Aching with sympathy

His eyes misted over

There were tracks of tears on her face

Her face contorted as though she was struggling not to cry

Sadness flitted across her face

Shaking with grief

His voice cracks, thick with grief

A lump formed in her throat

Sadness: Show, Don't Tell

Eyebrows may be lower and pulled closer together

The inner corners of the eyebrows may be angled up

The corners of the mouth may be drawn downwards

The lips may be either drawn in tightly or pouting outwards

Crying: A Sign of Sadness

Tears may first pool in the eyes before they streak down a person’s cheeks.

Tears distort vision, so if you’re writing in the first person, don’t forget that your character’s vision will be blurry.

Crying usually isn’t a pretty sight, so don’t be afraid to show that the character’s face is red or that their nose is running.

Sadness: Other Notes & Tips

There are many different ways that sadness can be felt and expressed depending on the intensity of the emotion, and there are many different things that can trigger a sad response in a character.

When a character is truly heartbroken, their expression may change to be more numb: their mouth may hang open loosely, their eyes may remain closed, and the rest of their body may become limp and heavy.

Complexity also means that sadness is often experienced in tandem with another emotion, such as anger, happiness, or disgust.

Show your reader the sad (a) behaviours, (b) facial expressions, (c) actions, (d) speech and (e) inner thoughts of your character.

The arts, humanities, give us the space and freedom and consolation to share our sadness.

Sadness can be one of the best things to happen to us, because it shows we still feel and want to strive for a better life.

We usually associate rain with sadness BUT Bad weather is better than good weather at sustaining people’s attention and maintaining productivity, according to a study by Jooa Julia Lee of Harvard University, Francesca Gino of Harvard Business School, and Bradley R. Staats of the University of North Carolina. In a study of Japanese bank workers whose windows gave them a view of the weather, a 1-inch increase in daily rainfall was related to a 1.3% decrease in worker completion time for data-entry tasks. When the weather is bad, workers are less distracted by thoughts of outdoor activities.

Tap into your own emotionality. It’s important to remember that emotion is inside of you—you just need to access it and put it on the page. In fiction writing, you might achieve this by doing some writing exercises or prompts that help you tap into your own emotions and then translating those feelings to your characters’ emotional states. Or, you might find yourself getting deep into your characters’ heads and using their backstories to connect to your characters’ emotions.

Know the difference between sentimentality and truth. To successfully write an essay or novel with weight or substance, you have to understand the difference between sentimentality and truth. Sentimentality is manipulative and unsurprising. It’s the easy words that have always been used to signify certain emotions without actually moving someone into feeling them. Oscar Wilde said, “A sentimentalist is simply one who desires to have the luxury of emotion without paying for it.” In a similar vein, James Joyce said, “Sentimentality is unearned emotion.” The sadness can’t be forced or formulaic, but it’s important to always look for a way to move people, to add meaning, with more than laughter. You provoke tears or deep emotion when you open a genuine window into who you are or who someone else is. Sadness has to be authentic, so you need to maintain that authenticity in your framing of the emotional moment. Resist the impulse to overplay it. It’s not a soap opera; if your subject is experiencing real pain, they’re doing all of the work for you.

Leave room to be surprised by specific detail. That is how you will create natural emotion, which will resonate with your readers, especially if you show and don’t tell. Often something small can trigger reader emotions better than big, dramatic events or descriptions, especially if they’re already familiar with your characters’ backstories.

Pair strong emotions with ordinary ones. When working with heightened emotion, think of ways to pair it with an ordinary, everyday moment. This can help emotional writing sound less melodramatic and make intense feelings stand out.

Use backstories to add weight. If you show your character’s history, that can help build up to an emotional reaction to minor-seeming actions, language, or even body language. Foreshadowing a sad event with a backstory can make the climax feel more intense.

Use sad moments to further character development. Remember as you’re writing that your characters are on a journey. You are rendering only a small slice of that journey on the page. Nonetheless, your characters will need to grow and change. Difficult emotional experiences can shape your characters, so make sure intense emotional scenes fit into the whole story in a way that feels authentic to your characters and plot.

Sources: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 ⚜ More: Writing Notes & References

If these writing notes helped with your poem/story, please tag me. Or leave a link in the replies. I'd love to read them!

[noemilivv]

HIYA HIYA!!! this is the super energetic bro that u matched with velvette, qnd I was curioussss to requesttttt smthhh (also maybe if u want to easier identify me I could be ✨️anon??)

Ok! SO! ~Imagine~ maybeee that angel has a person he is romantically interested in (reader)

And so reader is ~severely introverted~ and thus, not much is know about them. But! Charlie is leading a art group one day, for like, rehab bc art therapy is super big, and reader is really good at it, and basically drops lore that they where in college to be an art therapist‼️

And so‼️

Maybe angel, seeing this opportunity to get closer, and was like- "ayo want me to model 4 u??👀👀" and reader is like " pls wear clothes this isn't gunna be nude modeling bc I will get super embarrassed" and so basically soft fluff of reader painting angel and getting to know each other and confession

Mayybbee a oneshot?? If ur willing! Nor pressure

Also make sure to take time to urself and rest and eat water and drink food!!!

Lots of love from a silly Lil fan!! :))

hello dear!! ofc you can be ✨ anon, you’re already on my list haha, as i’ve stated in the past, im not amazing at oneshots, but here’s my take on this !

Warnings: Mentions of Nudity, Lazily written (sorryyyy), Pretty short

“Smooth Talker”

Angel Dust x Artist!Reader

After one of Charlie’s…interesting exercises, Vaggie suggests that the group should do therapy art, since y’know, it calms the soul. And Charlie couldn’t be more eager to do so!

The lobby was set up with canvases, paints, brushes, everything you could need!

Unlike most of Charlie’s previous activities, almost everyone was willing to participate, although Husk and Alastor kinda stood off to the side and watched.

Charlie was painting a cartoon version of Razzle and Dazzle, Vaggie was painting a sunset based off of the lesbian flag, Pentious was painting him in his war machine taking over Hell, and Niffty? Eh.. You don’t wanna know..

You on the other hand? Stood in front of your canvas, clueless, “Y’know, I could model for you..” Angel says into your ear.

Your head turned to face him “Sure.” You say nonchalantly before turning back to your canvas.

“Wait really?-”

“Just please keep your clothes on.”

Eventually you had moved your stuff over to the other side of the lobby so Angel could pose on the couch.

He had a soft smirk, as he layed on the couch, his arm propping up his face. Although, he began to get fidgety, messing with his fluff.

“Stop moving.” You said with a soft smile.

Angel kept messing his fluff. “Ange!”

“Gee, sorry!” He said, chuckling, moving his arm back to its original position.

“So uh, how’d you get into all this?” Angel asked as the sketching of your pencil went to a stop and you began actually painting it. “College, back when I was alive I wanted to be an art therapist.” You explained.

“Fitting.” He murmured. For the most part, it was silent, a comforting silence though, the presence of each other was oddly soothing.

“Okay.” You muttered, squiggling your signature down at the bottom of the canvas quickly, “I’m done.” You announce to him, turning the canvas around to show him.

Angel perks up immediately, amazed by your skill, he slowly gets up off the couch to get a closer look. “Damn…” He said, his voice above a whisper, “Can I… Can I keep it?” He asked, hopeful that you might say yes, “Duh.” You giggled.

“For once the smooth talker is shocked, that’s new.” You say with a smirk. “And for once the introvert is talking back, that’s new.” Angel replies, but the usual attitude in his voice isn’t there, his voice is barely above a whisper as his eyes are still entranced with the painting.

You take the painting off the stand and hand it to Angel. You look over to a nearby window notice the sun is setting, despite the red sky still being as clear as day, “It’s getting late, I’m gonna head up to my room.” You say. “Yeah… Me too.”

As you and Angel are both walking to your rooms, you don’t say much, until a voice pipes up, “Y’know, I really owe ya for the painting.” Angel says, still looking at it, “Owe me what?” You ask, as you both arrive at your door.

“A date, maybe.” Angel says, pecking your forehead, “Stop by my room at eight tomorrow, if your interested~”

[ladykailitha]

The Caged Bird Still Sings Part 5

Hello, hello, hello! And we have completed the set this week! All for stories getting new and beautiful chapters. Though, with WIP Wednesdays spilling into Thursdays, I might change up my posting schedule a bit to accommodate the influx of asks.

But we'll see.

Here we see Steve dealing with a wild Karen or Linda as they were called in the 80s (at least out where I lived). Yep! We've always had a name for busybodies. It's just changed with the times.

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4

~

Steve had to throw out the rest of his food, it having gone cold while he was on the phone with Dustin and his mom.

He sighed in annoyance, but it couldn’t be helped. He could hear his mother now, just screaming about all the wasted food and all the starving children in Africa who would have appreciated that meal he just wasted.

Thankfully she was in whatever fresh hell Dad had dragged her off to after he threw him out.

He decided the best thing to do after all that was to go to the gym and run on a treadmill for awhile and just turn off all those dark thoughts swirling in his brain. So he got dressed in cropped swim team t-shirt and a pair of old basketball shorts. He pulled out his favorite sneakers and grabbed his room key.

He got some string and tied it to his wrist so he wouldn’t lose it while he was exercising and not be able to get back into his room. He wasn’t even sure the hotel knew who it was that was actually staying in the room with everything under Eddie’s name.

He made his way to the gym, but as he went through the hotel he noticed people staring at him and not in the fun way.

The women would sneer and the men would look down their noses at him. He tugged on the crop top, a little insecure now. By the time he got the gym he as ready to turn tail and run back to his hotel room.

But he stopped at the glass door to their very state of the art gym. The people inside were all dressed similarly to what he was wearing. He looked back into the hallway and thought about all the other patrons that looked down at him.

Steve squared his shoulders. He was used to this kind of bullshit. He had got from his parents, their friends, and hell even his own friends over the years every time he tried coloring outside of the lines.

Well fuck them. He had every right to be here, same as them. He yanked open the door and got situated on the treadmill nearest to the door, set it to a low speed and began to walk.

Once he got into the rhythm he switched up to a slow jog, then a full on run. He slowed it back down and counted out his heart rate.

“I think you have the wrong time, honey,” this sickeningly sweet voice said from behind him. “The help are only allowed use of the facilities after the guests have gone to bed.”

Steve paused the treadmill and turned around to face her. She was blond woman covered head to toe in pink! Pink tracksuit, pink tennis shoes, pink headband, even pink sunglasses. Though why she needed those, he didn’t know. It wasn’t that bright in here.

“You think I’m staff?” he asked incredulously. “What on earth gave you that idea?”

She looked up and down his body and sniffed in disdain. “The high school phys. ed attire for a start, darling. Then there’s the...” she waved at his body. His very tanned, muscular, lean body. “All of you.”

Steve put his hands on his hips and raised an annoyed eyebrow. “Look, honey,” his emphasis on the last word, throwing it back at her, “you’re probably not from here. But my parents are very rich and you are just some biddy who thinks bullying people is acceptable. Which it really isn’t, no matter what your tax bracket is.” He looked her up and down. “Which judging from the fact your track suit is from two seasons ago? Theirs is bigger than yours.”

The woman sputtered and fumed but Steve just hopped of the treadmill and got a water bottle from the courtesy fridge, downing quickly. He threw it in the trash and without a word or even so much as a backward glance, he strolled out of the gym with his head held high.

God, that felt good.

Of course the only reason he knew it was two years out of date was because his mom bought one then, wore it once, and then threw it in the back of her closet never to be seen again. Which, he thought with a huff, was probably what she wanted to do with him, if he was honest.

He got up to his hotel room and untied the key from his wrist to unlock his door. He stepped into the cool sanctuary of the black marble and brass fittings. It wasn’t a style he would pick out for himself, but there was something about the black and brass that reminded him of Eddie in a way. Dark and bright at the same time.

Steve spotted the package right off the bat this time. He walked over to the black gift bag and took over to the sofa. He opened it to find a box of chocolate raspberry truffles, a small jewelry box, and a nice black wallet.

He opened the chocolates first and took a bite. The tart of the raspberry hit his tongue first and then richness of dark chocolate. Fuck they were good. Steve forced himself to just eat the one. Otherwise the whole box would be gone in an instant.

He pulled out the wallet next. It had cash as well as shiny black credit card in his name. Well, he supposed since Eddie was loading cash on it, it was more like a debit card, but still it was black. Not even his parents had a black card. He could spend whatever he wanted and Eddie would pay for it.

Not that he would. God no. But Christ, he could, he absolutely could. He ran his fingers over the shiny surface in awe. Then he counted the money and he closed his eyes. There was about a thousand dollars in there. Five crisp one hundreds, ten crisp twenties, twenty tens, and twenty fives. The wallet could barely close it was so stuffed.

Steve could not spend the money and Eddie would never know. He could barely use the card, but Eddie would know that and be concerned why he wasn’t getting everything he needed and send more money. Plus, Steve had a pretty good idea what the smaller bills were for anyway. Tipping. The wait staff, housekeeping. Things that were polite to do when other people were doing everything for you.

It also meant that if he wanted to he could go out a buy booze if he ever just wanted a beer. Because it was within the bounds of Eddie’s rule. Don’t use the card to buy booze, no mention of his cash, so...

Steve set the wallet aside and made sure to remember to call down to the front desk for the combination to the room safe. He knew there was one. Especially in a place like this. He pulled out the little white jewelry box and opened it. Inside set in gold was a little bird pendant on a gold chain. Steve held it up to the light and marveled at it as it spun, glinting in the light.

He put the necklace on and continued to marvel at it on his neck. It was beautiful. He set the rest of it aside and bounced up. He flopped on the bed and picked up the phone, dialing Eddie’s number.

“Hello?” an unfamiliar voice answered.

“Oh!” Steve cried. He never expected someone else to answer the phone. “It’s Steve, I’m calling for Eddie.”

“Oh, shit!” the voice said. “I thought it was my phone that was ringing. Sorry, man. I’ll get him for you.”

A moment later Eddie was on the line. “Little Canary, if you only call me when I send you pretty gifts, I’m going to have to up my game and send them more often.”

“Oh!” Steve cried again. “Sorry about that. Everything has been happening all at once. I was going to call you when I got back from the gym, but I saw your gift first.”

“It’s alright, sweetheart,” Eddie soothed. “I was only mostly teasing.”

Steve laughed and shook his head. “But everything was amazing by the way. Those chocolates were to die for and I really loved the necklace.”

“No mention of the wallet I see,” Eddie said with a chuckle. “I can stop sending you money if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“Oh, no,” Steve said in a rush, “I am a little uncomfortable with it, but more because I don’t have a safe place to keep it right now then because you gave it to me. I appreciate the money to be able to start tipping the staff.”

“That’s a relief,” Eddie said. “I was worried I might be overstepping with the cash. I’m glad it all shook out okay. So tell me about the gym. You’ll never catch me in one and I’m curious.”

Steve told him all about the trip down and the bitch on top of how great the gym was.

“That bitch,” Eddie agreed when he was done. “She was jealous on how good you look, baby.”

“Of that I have no doubt,” Steve agreed. “The way she turned purple when I told her her outfit was out of fashion was just the icing on the cake.”

Eddie hummed and went on to talk about how the last two days were back to back concerts and how tired he was.

“You’re taking care of yourself, too?” Steve asked. “You want to take care of me, but who’s taking care of you?”

Eddie’s smile could be felt through the line when he said, “My band. There’s Gareth, who answered the phone. He’s our drummer, then there’s Jeff, he’s rhythm guitar and lead vocals–”

“What’s rhythm guitar?” Steve asked. “Is it a different instrument?”

“No,” Eddie explained, “but I can see why you might think that.” Then he went on to explain what it meant and why Eddie was lead guitar and backup vocals. “I can sing fine, but Jeff? He’s got a real talent for it. Gives us a unique edge. And then the last and certainly not the least is Brian who’s on bass.”

“First base?” Steve teased.

“What’s that, sweetheart?”

Steve snickered. “Who’s on first? That old timey comedy sketch about baseball?”

He could hear Eddie snap his fingers. “That’s right. Wrong kind of bass though. And it is a separate instrument, but not to be confused with a upright bass. Which are those weird, big violin looking thingies.” He went on to describe the differences between a bass and a guitar.

“Oh it’s like a violin and a viola,” Steve said, “they may look similar but they aren’t the same.”

Then it was Eddie’s turn to be confused, so Steve explained.

“See, little Canary,” Eddie said after he was done. “You’re plenty smart. And sadly I have to go. But I want you to call me more often, okay?”

“Aye, aye!” Steve said with a jaunty salute.

“You menace,” Eddie huffed fondly. “Bye, Stevie.”

“Bye, Eddie.”

After they hung up Steve picked up the pendant and looked at it again. A little canary. Well then.

He got up and decided that it was time for lunch and maybe pay his cousin a little visit. He needed news. News only Monty could provide.

~

Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14

Tag List: CLOSED

1- @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog @beelze-the-bubkiss

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @cryptid-system

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @justforthedead89 @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @sticknpokelightningbolt

9- @scoops-aboy86 @kurofuckingshi16 @watermelonmite @eyehartart @dreamercec

10- @little-birch-boy @yearningagain @micheledawn1975 @blondie1006 @sadisticaltarts

[sepublic]

            King really has a whole thing about being seen as a toy, a pet, for people to own and play with without his permission. An object to look nice and pretty and not much else, without any wants or needs of his own.

         So it feels very poetic that he constantly surrounds himself with toys and plushes to command over; King’s whole Tyrant schtick isn’t just a fantasy for him, it’s a way for him to reclaim lost autonomy by exercising his own control. It’s as if King FEELS like a toy, so he commands other toys because he’s essentially one of them. And it reflects on his juvenile nature, not being taken seriously, the revelation that it’s only ever been pretend, etc.

         That makes King’s relationship with Francois very sweet, as a toy from the human world he finds, no thanks to Luz helping him. Luz is someone whose physical cuddling and affections King DOES appreciate, because by the end of the day, Luz respects King as a person and his boundaries. King wants affection actually, but he wants it on his own terms, and there’s a lot of moments where he ‘commands’ Luz and she happily obliges, defends him, etc. Luz is very thoughtful of King’s feelings, and The Intruder is a major episode in which Luz learns to be more mindful of King in general; This of course wins the approval of his father the Titan, who decides to show Luz the light glyph for her kindness.

         But anyhow, King loves Francois and treats him kindly, often as a partner and even equal. So with all I’ve said about King’s toy motif, that transitions perfectly into his dynamic with the Collector. There’s the fact that in their initial interactions, the Collector glomps onto a clearly uncomfortable King, like a child with a pet he doesn’t quite understand is a living creature (and in King’s case, not just a pet either but a person). Dana’s own art encapsulates their relationship by portraying King as a terrified plush that the Collector loves;

         The Collector is also juvenile and loves to play pretend, and treats people like toys, which is exemplified by them transforming victims into literal toys, who are dressed up to look even prettier. But for all their issues with boundaries, the Collector seems to genuinely love and value their toys, kind of like King with Francois.

         This contrasts them with Belos, whom they believe breaks his toys out of fun; That speaks to their different desires, hence the Collector insisting they want to make friends out of others, whereas Belos finds it more simple and satisfying to just destroy his enemies. So the Collector regards his toys as, well, toys; But with a sort of loving respect that a kid who takes good care of their toys and makes sure they’re taken care of does. A projection of feelings and personality… Over the actual feelings and personality that DO exist, but alas.

         But that’s where the Collector’s relationship with King develops, because over the course of two months, they begin to respect and listen to King more, value him as a friend, etc. The Collector is more mindful of King’s boundaries, doesn’t immediately glomp onto him, actually bothers to respond to King’s criticisms. When King says the Owl Beast isn’t ready, they listen, and it’s implied the Collector has known about King visiting Eda and Lilith behind their back, but simply allowed it because friends keeping secrets is totally normal, right? And anyhow, King has been so nice, and they love King so much, they don’t want to call him out and ruin things; He can have this.

         Which leads to Francois, whom King relates to; The toy that the Collector WANTS to cuddle with. But King sets the boundaries that it’s for him (and Luz) only, and the Collector actually listens. He doesn’t touch Francois behind King’s back, and aside from a moment where he has to take it from Belos’ grasp to defend Francois, puts it right back where it belongs. He can’t have Francois, but the Collector can settle for having him BE there, so close and yet so far.

         King is Francois; He’s a beloved toy to the Collector that he loves and appreciates, treats more special than the rest, and practically as a person, a lot of the time. But he’s willing to respect Francois’ boundaries and not play with him when he doesn’t want, just as he does with King, and his visits to his mother and aunt. The Collector obviously has a lot to learn when we check up on them two months later, and King understandably still IS frustrated, hence why he calls out the Collector after the nightmare illusions at the beginning of the series finale…

         But King can tell, as a former, unruly child himself, who was only a non-issue because he lacked the power the Collector wields; The Collector is a kid like him. Who’s also learning. Who ultimately means well. And they’ve proven to be rather receptive over these two months; Not quite there, but if you put in the effort to teach and work with them, King is certain it’ll pay off as it did with him.

         The Collector was a tyrant like King, and like King, a lot of this comes after being helpless because of others as well; The Collector was put into the care of the manipulative Archivists, and later trapped by the Titan. The only way to contact them was with a disc, an object, and their word was exploited by Bill so he could lead the Titan Trappers and finish the genocide of the Archivists. If the Grimwalkers were toys to Belos, so was the Collector, for him to hide away from everyone else, as his own, like a twisted Francois. And when he’s done with the Collector, he drops him into the pit with the rest of the discarded toys he loves to break.

         So like King, the Collector being a tyrant isn’t just the result of kids being kids, it’s also a response to their lack of agency. And tbh, kids in general lack agency, hence why they can be quite unruly troublemakers and rebels, so it makes sense that the Collector also overcompensates, like King does! But both of them learn to be more mindful of boundaries, that their own pain doesn’t justify them doing the same to others, either.

         The Collector notes that King isn’t the only person allowed to touch Francois; There’s also Luz. Luz, the kindly older sister who always listened to King and was attentive to his needs, respected him, and was often desired for physical affection. The Collector wants to BE Luz since King admires her so much, hence emulating her while playing Owl House; And Luz also recognizes their similarities, with the forgiveness she gives the Collector, being a form of forgiveness towards herself for being an ‘unruly’ child.

         And the Collector also grows, has their loss of innocence, but nevertheless matures, as Luz did. They learn about death, just as Luz learned about death when she lost her father; And the Collector technically loses the Titan that night, who was arguably a turbulent father figure who failed them, too, and laments this fact to Luz. The Collector IS Luz, and like Luz in The Intruder, who gains the approval of the Titan with a light glyph, just as the Titan apologizes for the Collector and lends his power to protect them and others…

         The Collector mends their friendship with King and makes it real. They respect and listen to him completely now. And so they get to finally be Luz, not just in their relationship with her, but also in their relationship with King, being allowed to love Francois, even being given him for company by King. Just as Luz is allowed to be King’s friend, and he follows her regularly, even sacrificing himself for her at the end of Season 2.

        King and the Collector are toys who want toys to reverse that dynamic; But in the end, nobody can be a toy. And so they grow up and get to play with actual friends, and be friends to others.

[writingdirectory]

Notes from a 5-day creative writing course:

Motivation

Make it a habit. That way, each time that familiar voice of self-doubt makes its appearance, it’ll be easier to ignore it, because writing will become something that you do-your thing-and you’ll gain confidence in it.

Visit your novel every single day. It doesn’t necessarily mean that you have to write something every day. You could outline the plot, or write character portraits, or draw a special part of your world. Your subconscious will work on your story even when you don’t. So, each time you visit the story consciously, you’ll find that things have developed in the story.

Manage the time of writing in a way that it is manageable for you. (It can be that one hour between classes or your lunch break or the morning before you go to work or at night before you sleep - Schedule it in a way that suits you and then, be serious about it.

Set a goal. For example, 100 or 500 words a day.

Character Development, Word Choice & Description

At first, characters incarnate ideas. A poor man who wins the lottery, a young boy who travels to a magical land. As we develop the story, they become people - real people with backgrounds and unique choices.

Ways we perceive character: through actions, thoughts (conflict), dialogue, interactions with others.

Bring intentionality to the representation of a character.  Don't give arbitrary information.

How a character reacts is a question of how you want to represent them through all those multiplicities that are dialogue, actions, interactions, etc.

Characters always want something. They are never static. With wants come obstacles and transformation.

Create tension between what a characters thinks, feels and says. For example, set external confidence and internal fear and then change that as the story develops. Characters can also be comfortable or scared depending on the situation.

Explore complexity. How a character talks to their lover is different from how they talk to their friends and family.

Give secondary characters a characteristic beyond their function to make them more prominent.

Make a hierarchy out of characters.

Exercise: Write the portrait of a character, how you would introduce them in the story and a description of them from a character that a) likes them and b) dislikes them.

Word Choice. When it starts sounding like writing, cut it out - Kill your darlings. Example: The car was spotted with rust - shows the car. As opposed to: The car was acned with rust - shows the writing. Sometimes a more refined word works against the object/image.

Description: Don’t just put in details. The details need to be significant for the image you want the reader to see.

Don’t use metaphors and lyricism in the expense of clarity. Be precise. Metaphors and similes should fit the narrative and not distract the reader. For example, saying “He barked like a dog” sounds fine, but if there are no dogs in your world, it is out of place and breaks the narrative. Be specific. Name things. Don’t be vague. Precision grounds your fiction.

Determine if you need static or lively description. Lively description is when you describe things through actions. Like “She passed her fingers through her blond hair”, instead of “Her hair was blond”.

Sense of authenticity. When you describe a place precisely, you gain your reader’s trust. A column is different from a golden column. That kind of attention gives a sense of authority and makes the narrative convincing.

Parts of description: smell, sound, sight, taste, touch, temperature, pressure.

Dialogue & POVs

Dialogue a) informs the character, b) moves the story forward, c) develops relationships between characters.

Dialogue isn’t just about how people talk.

What’s said can suggest what isn’t being said.

Use dialogue interspersed with description and visuals.

Choose the POV that suits your story.

(From David Lodge, ‘The Art of Fiction’.) A fictional story is unlikely to engage our interest unless we know whose story it is. Even with an “omniscient” narrative method, the writer should privilege one or two “points of view”. An objective approach may be a worthy aim in journalism, but not in fiction.

Pros and cons of 1st person POV. Pros: personal and direct, immediacy, intimacy, immediate credibility, easier to build character. Cons: limited, biased, unreliable, writing can become simplistic. When writing in 1st person, keep in mind that characters change, hence their perception changes. That has to be obvious in the narrative.

Pros and cons of 3rd person limited POV. Pros: thoughts can still be on the page, flexibility, wider view of the world, more complex language can be used (usually we think in simple words, so complex writing might sound pretentious and out of place in 1st person POV). Cons: distance (he/she).

GOD MODE. Or, commonly, 3rd person omniscient. You can jump in and out of characters’ minds, but there’s a danger when writing with such freedom. Be aware of structural harmony. Don’t write 10 pages in Sally’s POV and then jump into omniscient.

Use free indirect speech (1st person thoughts in italicized form, eg. No!) to eliminate the distance in 3rd person POVs.

Change POV with reason. Don’t suddenly jump to another POV just because it is interesting. Plan it. Make the change of the POV deliberate and make the reason clear.

Give equal weight to all POVs.  

Setting

The setting of a story is mediated through a character’s experience. It amplifies the theme. It shouldn’t be an arbitrary decision. The setting can make achievements more difficult for characters.

For children, places have magical properties, they are places of significance. The place of someone’s childhood can transform later in the novel, because the character has transformed. There’s a fluidity of meaning attached to places. But keep in mind that, places don’t change. Characters do.

How a character views a place is stated through the language we use.

When writing about a place that exists, have fidelity at the facts.

Editing

Be open to ideas changing.

If it’s not working after 3-4 rewrites, cut it out!

Make sentences active. Things don’t happen to characters. They do things.

Pay attention to rhythm.

Every sentence needs to have a reason to be there.

Usually, we overwrite in dialogue. Use context. Dialogue should be suggestive, rather than explicit.

Edit backwards, because perfectionism kicks in at the beginning.

Isolate. Edit single parts of the story. A chapter, a scene.

Read aloud. It will help find long sentences, pretentious words and unreadable language.

When words become over-familiar, put it down, give it to someone else to read.  

What to look out for: a) Character confusion. Make sure minor characters are introduced properly and find subtle ways to remind your readers who they are. b) Too much exposition. c) Plot holes, inconsistencies - there must rational reasons for coincidences, you must be able to provide logical and credible reasons behind the actions of a character. d) Over-written description.

What to do when editing: cut things out, put new things in, change sentence order and structure, look for repeated words, strengthen verbs (or prune), expand, trim, look for continuity errors, change order of events, introduce a delay in the reveals, rewrite using another POV or tense, determine if each sentence is pulling its weight.

Techniques: a) Prune. Delete text you don’t need. b) Isolate repetitions and delete or substitute with synonyms (look out for pretentious words). c) Cut and paste paragraphs to change order and rearrange. d) write a whole new draft, only looking to the previous one for factual material. e) Use a reader.

Bibliography

Hills Like White Elephants, by Ernest Hemingway (suggestive dialogue)

Concrete Island., by J.J. Ballot (how setting makes goals harder to achieve)

Driving Through Sawmill Towns, by Les Murray (lyricism, setting)

The Art of Fiction, by David Lodge (POV)

The Great Gatsby, by F. Scott Fitzgerald

On Writing, by Stephen King

[even-disco-baby]

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “Hello again, gendarme.” He smiles at you— not from his usual post, but from one of the cafeteria tables. A small sketchbook is laid out in front of him, along with some odd gray sticks.

ENCYCLOPEDIA — Compressed graphite. Not quite as bold or blendable as charcoal, but certainly less messy.

EMPATHY — Garte will appreciate it.

“I’d like to talk about the case again.”

“You moved! I didn’t know you could do that.”

“What are you drawing?”

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “That’s the question, isn’t it?” His smile turns a little rueful. “I found one of my old sketchbooks and thought I’d like to fill the last few empty pages, but I’m finding myself a little… uninspired.”

CONCEPTUALIZATION — The accursed artist’s block. Staring down an empty page only for it to stare back, mocking you.

EMPATHY — He is unsure of himself. He said this was an old sketchbook. Maybe he’s afraid of drawing something new beside his old work and seeing that nothing has changed.

“Ah, yes. Artist’s block. I know it well. In fact, I don’t know when the last time that I actually *made* any art was.”

“You could draw the cafeteria.”

“You could draw one of the other diners.”

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “A life drawing exercise, huh? And who would you pick as a subject, gendarme?”

“I don’t know. You’re the artist.”

“Maybe Garte? The skua could be a fun challenge.”

“You should draw the guy with the wig and sunglasses over there. He looks pretty funny.”

“Lena! She’d probably love to model for you. It would take her mind off things.”

“Kim, how about you pose for him?”

[Suggestion - Medium 10] “Why not me?”

KIM KITSURAGI — “No.”

He has nothing more to say on the matter.

“Aw, why not? You’d make a great model!”

Let it go.

KIM KITSURAGI — “I do not get paid to model for portraits. I get paid to solve murders. Such as the one we came here to investigate. Several days ago. Which has not been solved yet, for some mysterious reason.”

ESPIRIT DE CORPS — In case you couldn’t tell, that was sarcasm.

“Come on, Kim. You’re the perfect subject! A true man of the people. And there’s this sort of radiance about you… I can see the portrait already, just looking at you. Really clearly, actually.”

Maybe don’t say that. He’s just not gonna get it.

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — He shrugs. “Sorry, gendarme. It’s not right to use someone’s image without permission, you know? Maybe some other time.”

KIM KITSURAGI — “No.” And then, a little awkwardly, “But thank you.”

“I don’t know. You’re the artist.”

“How about Garte? Though, you’d have to draw the skua, too…”

“You should draw the guy with the wig and sunglasses over there. He looks pretty funny.”

“Lena! She’d probably love to model for you. It would take her mind off things.”

“Kim, how about you pose for him?”

[Suggestion - Medium 10] “Why not me?”

CHECK SUCCESS

YOU — “Why not me?”

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — He considers you with some amusement, but still, he does consider. “You’re not too busy?”

“On second thought, you’re right, I have some work to do right now. Another time, maybe?”

“Nope. Not at all.”

KIM KITSURAGI — The lieutenant sighs audibly.

ESPIRIT DE CORPS — What did I *just* say?

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — He chuckles to himself, apparently quite tickled by the little comedy act you two are making of yourselves. “Beautiful. Why not? Have a seat. I’ll try not to keep you too long.”

KIM KITSURAGI — “Much appreciated,” he says drily.

YOU — [Take a seat.]

SAVOIR FAIRE — Time to strike a pose. Let’s go with something cool. Something that really captures what you’re all about.

ENDURANCE — But make sure it’s something that you’ll be able to hold comfortably.

Wink and shoot him your signature finger guns.

Look at him with big sad eyes like a shamed puppy.

Look thoughtfully into the middle distance, as if contemplating your own future masterpiece.

Stare straight at him with eyes that have seen how this world will end.

Hold your head up high. With *honor.*

Just sit and act natural. No need to put on airs.

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — He looks you up and down, thumbing his bottom lip. His eyes look brighter and more alert than you have ever seen them. And then, he picks up his graphite and begins to work.

His eyes dart between you and the page, his hand sweeping across the page in bold, practiced strokes. All traces of his earlier hesitation have vanished.

VOLITION — Sometimes, a little push is all we need.

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — Every now and then, he pauses to look up at you, and it’s almost unnerving to be the subject of whatever calculations are going on behind his eyes. He holds out his graphite, squinting just slightly.

VISUAL CALCULUS — This is called sighting. He’s roughly measuring the relative proportions of your figure and checking them against his sketch.

KIM KITSURAGI — Even the lieutenant is watching now, interested in spite of himself.

“Are portraits your specialty?”

“Have you been drawing anything for school lately?”

Better not distract him.

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “Hmm…” He ponders this for a moment, not looking up from his work. “Not exactly. I’m more interested in the graphic arts than this sort of thing. But it’s best to build a strong foundation before branching out, you know?”

YOU — “Graphic arts? Like what?”

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “Printmaking.” A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth as he speaks, seemingly without him even noticing. “Monotype, especially.”

ENCYCLOPEDIA — Monotype is a printmaking technique that is singular from other techniques, in that it produces only *one* unique print, rather than an edition of multiple prints.

YOU — What, really? What’s the point of printing it, then?

ENCYCLOPEDIA — I don’t know. I didn’t invent it.

“Why monotype? Wouldn’t a different technique be more… practical?”

“I see.” [Drop the subject.]

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — He shrugs slightly, smudging a bit of graphite with a bare finger. “Depends on how you define practical, I suppose. If I had my own studio, and I was selling my prints, then maybe. But we make do with what we have, gendarme.”

EMPATHY — And what he has is very little.

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “Besides, I think monotype has its charms.”

The young man does not elaborate, instead focusing on the work at hand. He picks up an eraser that has been shaved down to a point for fine detail work, and begins on what are likely the finishing touches.

EMPATHY — He has already talked at uncharacteristic length about this. It’s making him a little uncomfortable.

SAVOIR FAIRE — He doesn’t like to share too much about himself because it makes him feel *uncool.* He prefers to maintain an air of mystery.

RHETORIC — It’s safer, too, that way. He’s learned that passion exists to be exploited. False promises and admiration are the offerings of Sunday friends.

“If you say so.” [Back off.]

“What kind of charms?” [Press on.]

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — His eyes flit back to you, sizing you up now in a different way. And then he looks back down at the page with a quiet bre ath.

“Well, it doesn’t take as much time or labor as other methods. Or expensive tools, or dangerous chemicals. Just paper, a plate, ink, and something to apply it with. And I can use the same plate over and over again, even use it to create different layers for the same print.”

RHETORIC — In other words, it’s cheap and can be done from home. An attractive option.

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “And with monotype, it’s not so hard to go back and change your mind. You can start over as many times as you’d like, right up until the moment you lay the page on the plate.”

INLAND EMPIRE — That really does sound attractive. To be able to wipe the slate clean, over and over again…

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “There aren’t as many limits on what kind of textures you can create, too. Brushstrokes and fingerprints… They can really come out beautiful.”

His brow creases a little, and he picks his graphite back up to rework a particular area.

DRAMA — He’s still holding out on you, sire. Too self-conscious to admit what he really likes about the medium.

YOU — Which is what?

EMPATHY — Fragility.

CONCEPTUALIZATION — An image which is only complete after being mirrored and translated, never to be recreated except as a ghostly afterimage. An exercise in surrendering to chance. What will be, will be. And then the moment will pass, and it will be time to start the next piece.

VOLITION — This man knows disappointment intimately. It is his closest companion. He has learned to make peace with it. He passes the time with his Sunday friends, lays his paper on the plate and hopes, despite himself, for the best.

YOU — Is that… a good thing?

VOLITION — …It’s hard to say. But we make do with what we have.

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “There.” The young man sits up straight, and it’s only now that you realize just how close he brought himself to his work.

DRAMA — His face may not betray him, but the body does not lie. He was having *fun,* my liege.

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “All done.” He tears the page from his book and holds it out to you with a small smile.

ITEM GAINED: Portrait of a Disco Holdover

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “Hope I didn’t keep you too long.”

KIM KITSURAGI — “Don’t worry about it,” Kim says, rather resignedly.

ESPIRIT DE CORPS — If you’d declined, the lieutenant thinks, my partner would have just found some other way to get sidetracked.

KIM KITSURAGI — Still, he cannot stop himself from glancing at the portrait over your shoulder.

PORTRAIT OF A DISCO HOLDOVER — It’s you! Unfortunately. Not even the most masterful hand could make the Expression less unsettling to look at. Your posture is poor, your face is swollen and blotchy, your hair is thinning, your clothes are shabby and out of place… I could go on.

Oh god, you could?

Please don’t.

PORTRAIT OF A DISCO HOLDOVER — But, you know… it’s nice. The smoker’s technique is bold and rather lovely, broad strokes of graphite intersecting in just the right places to create surprising depths. Somehow, even though it’s you… it’s not hideous.

EMPATHY — Because you’re seeing yourself through another person’s eyes.

CONCEPTUALIZATION — There is an odd tenderness to the portrait. Something amusing in your grimace, a touch of sympathy in your hunched shoulders. With the eraser, he has lifted small spots of pigment from your face, as if it were illuminated by flecks of light from the karaoke disco ball.

There are no disco lights tonight, but still, he sees them when he looks at you. Your moment has passed, but it left quite the impression. A ghost print, superimposed over you.

“Not bad, but the bicep girth is off. Right, Kim?”

“Oh god, is that really what I look like?”

“Hmm. It’s okay, but you should consider a backup career plan.”

“Whoa, you’re amazing! Can you draw me again, but this time in the costume from the cover of Man from Hjelmdall and the Devil Woman? And like, with a really cool warhammer? And Queen Lydiaana standing in the background, all like, ‘boohoo, where will I ever find another man like Ha— I mean, the Man from Hjelmdall?’”

“Beautiful.”

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — His smile climbs up into the corners of his eyes, warming his entire countenance.

CONCEPTUALIZATION — If you were to capture a portrait of him in this moment, it would be beautiful, too.

[artist-issues]

the truth is, it’s crazy how Christian the lyrics and the concepts in twenty one pilots’ songs are, and how nobody in their group of fans is talking about it. I mean, the fans can decode and find information on basically every little potential meaning behind lyrics or promotional material…and they just blow past the Christian stuff.

I mean like. Vignette. Vignette is definitely about being addicted to doubt. Doubt in God. That one’s not hard to decode. Tyler literally said “it makes the most sense within the context of addiction” and everybody on Twitter goes “omg what is he addicted to,” then they start virtue-signaling in arguments like, “ya’ll don’t know him, addiction can take many forms, how dare you say you don’t believe he’s addicted to substances,” and it’s like. Guys. He’s only ever used “addiction” to describe one thing, and it’s doubt. Addict With a Pen.

I mean, ya’ll know him. Supposedly. The guy talks in riddles in interviews because he knows fans are watching. You don’t think he would talk in a pretty-obvious but safely-vague riddle about the meaning of a song in the Livestream?

This isn’t the only example. It’s just one of the most recent ones. To try and contextualize or understand any of twenty one pilots’ albums or the concepts inside—and by “understand,” I mean, “understand what it meant to Tyler Joseph/what Tyler Joseph meant”—not what it means to you or the next guy in line—without taking the Christianity that bleeds through into account? That’s an exercise in futility.

but let’s be real, ya’ll are all more obsessed with the skeleton visuals, the romanticization of mental health struggles, and the sexual fantasization than you’re obsessed with what the songs were intended to say

You can focus on whatever you want to in and with their music, that’s the beauty and the ugliness of art. I’m just pointing out; it’s weird that ya’ll will focus on everything but Christianity when decoding and theorizing. The most I never see is “must be about his faith” “it’s abt God” or “awwwe his Christian roots.” Okay, but you’ll dig up the life and history of Simone Weil based on a single word’s (maybe intentional) misspelling, and learn every fact about her life, convinced he was referencing her? Whatever, man.

[steveyockey]

Some would rebut that “Oppenheimer,” being a Hollywood blockbuster with serious global reach (whether it will play Japanese theaters remains uncertain), will be many audiences’ only exposure to the events in question and thus might “create a limit on public consciousness and concern,” as the poet, writer and professor Brandon Shimoda told The Times. A corollary of this argument: The crimes committed against the people of Hiroshima and Nagasaki were so unspeakable, so outsized in their impact, that Oppenheimer’s perspective does and should dwindle into insignificance by comparison. For Nolan to focus so exclusively on an American physicist’s story, some insist, ultimately diminishes history and humanity, even as it reinforces the Hollywood hegemony of the great-man biopic and of white men’s narratives in general.

I get those complaints. I also think they betray an inherent disrespect for the audience’s intelligence and curiosity, as well as a fundamental misunderstanding of how movies operate. It’s telling that few of these criticisms of perspective were leveled at “American Prometheus” when it was published in 2005, that no one begrudged Bird and Sherwin for offering a meticulously researched, morally ambivalent portrait of their subject’s life and consigning the destruction of two Japanese cities to a few pages. That’s because books are books, the argument goes, and movies are movies — and this perceived difference, it must be said, reveals a pernicious double standard.

Because they seldom achieve the narrative penetration and richness of detail of, say, a 700-page biography, movies, especially those about history, often are hailed as achievements of breadth over depth, emotion over intellect. They are assumed to be fundamentally shallow experiences, distillations of real life rather than sharply angled explorations of it, propelled by broad brushstrokes and easy expository shortcuts, and beholden to the audience’s presumably voracious appetite for thrilling, traumatizing spectacle. And because movies offer a visual immediacy and narrative immersion that books don’t, they are expected to be sweeping if not omniscient in their narrative scope, to reach for a comprehensive, even definitive vantage.

Movies that attempt something different, that recognize that less can indeed be more, are thus easily taken to task. “It’s so subjective!” and “It omits a crucial P.O.V.!” are assumed to be substantive criticisms rather than essentially value-neutral statements. We are sometimes told, in matters of art and storytelling, that depiction is not endorsement; we are not reminded nearly as often that omission is not erasure. But because viewers of course cannot be trusted to know any history or muster any empathy on their own — and if anything unites those who criticize “Oppenheimer” on representational grounds, it’s their reflexive assumption of the audience’s stupidity — anything that isn’t explicitly shown onscreen is denigrated as a dodge or an oversight, rather than a carefully considered decision.

A film like “Oppenheimer” offers a welcome challenge to these assumptions. Like nearly all Nolan’s movies, from “Memento” to “Dunkirk,” it’s a crafty exercise in radical subjectivity and narrative misdirection, in which the most significant subjects — lost memories, lost time, lost loves — often are invisible and all the more powerful for it. We can certainly imagine a version of “Oppenheimer” that tossed in a few startling but desultory minutes of Japanese destruction footage. Such a version might have flirted with kitsch, but it might well have satisfied the representational completists in the audience. It also would have reduced Hiroshima and Nagasaki to a piddling afterthought; Nolan treats them instead as a profound absence, an indictment by silence.

That’s true even in one of the movie’s most powerful and contested sequences. Not long after news of Hiroshima’s destruction arrives, Oppenheimer gives a would-be-triumphant speech to a euphoric Los Alamos crowd, only for his words to turn to dust in his mouth. For a moment, Nolan abandons realism altogether — but not, crucially, Oppenheimer’s perspective — to embrace a hallucinatory horror-movie expressionism. A piercing scream erupts in the crowd; a woman’s face crumples and flutters, like a paper mask about to disintegrate. The crowd is there and then suddenly, with much sonic rumbling, image blurring and an obliterating flash of white light, it is not.

For “Oppenheimer’s” detractors, this sequence constitutes its most grievous act of erasure: Even in the movie’s one evocation of nuclear disaster, the true victims have been obscured and whitewashed. The absence of Japanese faces and bodies in these visions is indeed striking. It’s also consistent with Nolan’s strict representational parameters, and it produces a tension, even a contradiction, that the movie wants us to recognize and wrestle with. Is Oppenheimer trying (and failing) to imagine the hundreds of thousands of Japanese civilians murdered by the weapon he devised? Or is he envisioning some hypothetical doomsday scenario still to come?

I think the answer is a blur of both, and also something more: In this moment, one of the movie’s most abstract, Nolan advances a longer view of his protagonist’s history and his future. Oppenheimer’s blindness to Japanese victims and survivors foreshadows his own stubborn inability to confront the consequences of his actions in years to come. He will speak out against nuclear weaponry, but he will never apologize for the atomic bombings of Japan — not even when he visits Tokyo and Osaka in 1960 and is questioned by a reporter about his perspective now. “I do not think coming to Japan changed my sense of anguish about my part in this whole piece of history,” he will respond. “Nor has it fully made me regret my responsibility for the technical success of the enterprise.”

Talk about compartmentalization. That episode, by the way, doesn’t find its way into “Oppenheimer,” which knows better than to offer itself up as the last word on anything. To the end, Nolan trusts us to seek out and think about history for ourselves. If we elect not to, that’s on us.

[see-arcane]

The Vampyres--The Bones and Blood of the Book

Good news! I’m not dead and the book isn’t either! Just shambling slowly through the wasteland of the publication process. It’s been a bit since I last waved this bloody morsel around. So, consider this a progress report on the state of the novella, the prospective publishing options, and a few other questions that have been bouncing around in the inbox.

EDIT:

I have a website now! For some reason.

It's See Arcane Scribbles.

Smaller Edit:

Got a Spotify too for story soundtrack goodness:

COVERS

First things first—and the first part of a finished book is the cover. Here are some mockups I’ve been juggling, starting with the original placeholder. They’re far from perfect, but I’m proud of what I managed with a fairly skinny graphic art skill set.

FINISHING, FORMAT, AND FINANCE*

*(OR, THE HEADACHENING)

Copyright: Technically speaking, you have the copyright to your own writing once you put it to paper or screen. But this is somehow a different thing from a legally-binding registered copyright, which everyone declares is a must-have if you want your work to be protected with more than a non-textual trust-fall exercise, hoping nobody steals your work and runs.

That said, electronic registration with the copyright office is $65, or $45 to register one work by one author.

ISBN: I only recently learned the words behind this acronym. ‘International Standard Book Number.’ It’s the ID on a book that marks it as unique and helps commercial booksellers and libraries circulate it. Each iteration of a book—paperback, digital, hardcover, new editions, et cetera—has its own ISBN. When you’re publishing on your own, you purchase ISBNs through a service called Bowker.

One book/version’s ISBN costs $125.

There are better bargains the higher the number of books and/or versions you go, starting at a bulk of 10 books for $295. But as I only have the one (1) skinny novella on the table, that’s a no-go. Which begs the question of how many ISBNs are in store for this little monster. It depends on how many formats I go with.

eBook: The quickest and most cost-efficient option across the board for any self-publication service. Short, sweet, no printing pains of trim sizes or distribution costs or formatting, oh my. Nice.

Paperback VS Hardcover: …But I am now and forever a sucker for physical media. Even though it’s a teeny brochure of a thing, I want to hold a physical copy of The Vampyres in my hands! So bad! And every service I’ve looked through has stated the obvious: Hardcover costs more than paperback. My heart won’t break if I have to stick with paperback to spare everyone’s wallets—hardcovers are pricy in both directions!—but I am a little torn. Especially as physical size might affect the price too.

Here we have two of my favorite quick reads, an anthology of Poe stories and Clive Barker’s novella, The Hellbound Heart.

The Poe book is a clothbound hardcover. 6.5 x 4.5 inches, a bit over 120 pages.

The Hellbound Heart is roughly 8 x 5 inches (about standard for a novella), at 164 pages. But unlike Poe, it looks like Barker took some liberties with the spacing and font size.

Standard size dimensions cost less than unique cuts, which means that whether paperback or hardcover, I sadly have to say goodbye to the petite palm-sized edition I was hoping for. On the upside, good news to us crap-vision readers—the font’s going to get H U G E in order to make the book more than a pamphlet with delusions of grandeur.

Audiobook: The fact is, my voice is not up to the task of reciting anything with appropriate gravitas and I think we’ve all been spoiled by @re-dracula and assorted other podcasts’ skill in orating. I don’t have the cash to hire a professional and I’m not about to accept anyone’s freebie offers. I won’t pickpocket friends for their talent. If an audio version ever comes along for any story of mine it’ll be down the road when it proves worth the format’s effort and cost.

REVIEWS (and a Foreword!)

It was the best of times (People reading the thing! Commenting on the thing! Good good good—), it was the worst of times (The Mortifying Ordeal of People Reading and Commenting on the Thing). Time for what every advice site declares a book absolutely must have the moment it’s thrust into the wild.

Reviews, reviews, reviews.

I’ve already bitten several bullets and passed copies out to a handful of fellow scribblers to scrutinize, their reviews destined to be hung up like literary gold stars on their bookselling site of choice, my own included. Now comes my preliminary grovel to readers en masse to please drop a review, a comment, a blurb of any shape or size where you can once The Vampyres drops. I’ve already gotten some early comments that have consisted mostly of screaming. Screams also count as a review.

As an aside, there are two folks in particular who I reached out to who exist in the stratosphere of Coolest People in the Vampiric Lit scene. They promptly exploded me into disbelieving giblets when they told me, yes, they’d be happy to read my little story and offer up a review and a foreword for the book respectively.

I’m not sure what the decorum here is, but for safety (and surprise’s) sake, I’ll not name names. But they are names I’ve been happy to come across for the past two years while neck deep in the undead book club. I’m infinitely grateful to both of them and am waiting on pins, needles, stakes and kukri blades by my inbox so I can pin their words up inside the book itself.

FUTURE SCRIBBLING

To get one of the biggest questions out of the way, let’s talk about Barking Harker.

My very own object lesson on sunk cost fallacy.

I wrote my way through a goddamn cinderblock of text without even grazing the finish line of the first section of the story. A story made of so many convoluted triple-decker layers of subplots and side characters that it had the structural integrity of a monolithic Nature Valley granola bar, just waiting to fall apart under its own weight. Such is the hubris and curse of too-many-words-itis. The Vampyres remains a miraculous fluke, jotted down during an overdue break from BH’s slog. Not just because I tripped and fell into finishing the story, but because it’s comparatively compact! Brevity at last!

For those still craving the assorted gothic and ghoulish promises of the initial novel idea, don’t worry, those aren’t going anywhere. I’ve just crumbled the metaphorical bloodstained granola by my own hand and have done the sane thing of parsing out the various subplots to become the foundations of their own stories. Which they really should have been from the get-go. Insert 100+ clown emojis here.

On that note, I am turning into WIPs Georg over here. Good god.

I hesitate to throw myself all-in again and make promises of X Story that may leave me spinning my mental wheels or ballooning the plot out into a behemoth that can’t be steered back on course. Even so, here’s a peek at a few ideas I currently have on the brain.

So.

Not exactly lacking for stories. It’s just a matter of seeing which of them breaks ahead of the herd and squeezes out into the publication ether first.

LAST BIT  

Blah, blah, requisite reminder that I have a Ko-Fi where you can donate a buck or commission my best attempt at art, blah. Any pennies are a help.

But I’m betting very few of you came around here for my doodles. Somehow, a good amount of people tripped into this pit with me because you enjoy the rambles and horrors I’ve written over the years. Maybe some of you will even buy my book once it’s out. And you, there, on the other side of the screen—you’re reading this right now. You made it all the way to the bottom of this pile of exposition just because you wanted to. So, thank you.

Thank you for reading this far. Thank you for reading before and reading what’s to come. Thank you for giving me the confidence to even consider shouldering my own work out into the wider world.

Thank you.

P.S. If you want to re-read the preview, go here!

[spicymotte]

OP said this is a joke but nonetheless I think that glorifying the ‘artists need to feel like shit all the time and are depressed fucks or else the art isn’t arting’ mindset is 1. extremely boring and 2. actually harmful because younger artists really think they’ll lose their spark (???) when they try to make a positive change to their lives

my advice to actually survive as an artist: go to sleep at a reasonable time. try to avoid shitloads of caffeine and processed & sugary foods and drinks. make a schedule for the day and try to stick to it - if that doesn’t work, try again tomorrow, just don’t give up on it. eat well and (if possible) healthy. exercise daily for at least 5 minutes. no, depression is not a feature or part of your personality, stop telling yourself that you need to feel bad in order to make art. that’s a lie your brain and the internet keeps telling you, don’t fall for it

[cringefailvox]

“May I ask what you’re trying to make me do?” Alastor inquired politely. “Sing ‘Yankee Doodle’,” Vox said, not breaking eye contact. “Evidently it isn’t working.” “Oh, I think I almost felt something.” “Really?” Alastor blinked a few times, a little enamored with the burning afterimages of Vox’s glowing features impressed onto the backs of his eyelids. “Never mind. Just a bit of a headache from how long this exercise has been dragging on.”

or: what's a little hypnotism and under-negotiated d/s play between friends? :] written for vox switch week over on twitter, day 6: overstim + hypnosis, and inspired in large part by @scarletandcyan's hypnosis practice art that burrowed into my brain and made a home there. go check them out and show them some love!! <3

[staytinyville]

Stay Alive (26)

BTS poly!ot7 x Reader

Magical Creatures AU

Series Masterlist

Warnings: smut (MDNI), piv, unprotected sex (we don't do that here),

A/N NOT BETA. Honest opinion yall what you think of my smut lol

You giggled at the younger patients wading around in the pool, trying to learn how to swim. Jimin along with other patients, were holding swim lessons to help the younger kids know the basics. While the only time they got to swim was in the pool, Jimin thought it was best to teach them if the day ever comes that they are freed from this hell. 

“You're doing good!” Jimin praised one of the girls. 

You had a bright smile on your face, putting out towels once the lessons came to an end and everyone got ready to leave. 

“Good work everyone!” Jimin called, waving goodbye to the other patients. 

He nodded his head to some of the other volunteer instructors–most of which were older people who had gotten the chance to learn how to swim before being imprisoned. You gave them kind smiles as they passed you, thank you for the towel you handed them. 

You turned back to Jimin, watching as he ducked under the water causing it to ripple. A soft smile formed on your face the more you watched him do what looked like a dance. It was mesmerizing to watch. 

He popped back out, grinning when he saw you making your way closer to the edge. He waded over, placing his arms along the cement.

“You're amazing with children.” You told him, giving him a water bottle.

“I'm just a great swim teacher.” Jimin chuckled. 

He suddenly frowned after taking gulps of the water. You watched as he dropped his head onto his arms, his legs kicking in the water. 

“There's a lot of kids here who were taken from their families.” He sighed deeply. “They don't get a lot of education for practical things so I asked to be a swim instructor.” He explained. 

“Jungkook helps with physical exercises, Taehyung does art, Jin helps people with cooking, and Hobi teaches magic to the kids.” He smiled softly. “It’s just little things that people should get in their everyday lives. They might try to bribe us with things but we know the truth. This isn’t the life people deserve.”

“I think you guys are amazing to want to teach the younger ones.” You moved your fingers through Jimin’s wet hair, causing him to grin. 

“We got the chance but they won't.” He pressed his lips together. “They're missing so much from their abilities–someone has to tell them.”

“How old is the youngest?” You asked him.

He thought about it for a moment. “Ni-ki is 17.” 

“When was he brought in?” You frowned, shoulders dropping at the idea of such a young boy being stuck here for so long. 

“5 years ago. That was the last time they brought in people.” Jimin explained. “They said they closed off the portal that was used to travel between the worlds.”

“They took a 12 year old from his parents?” You cried, your eyes starting to hurt from the tears piling up. “Jimin, this isn't okay. Why would anyone do this?” 

Jimin quickly pulled himself up from the water, sitting at the ledge of the pool. “He's a greed demon. It's what he does.” Jimin sighed, bringing you in for a hug. You didn’t care for getting your clothing wet, knowing you’ll just ask to borrow some of the boys. 

“We'll save them.” Jimin told you, hand rubbing the back of your neck. “It's something all of us decided to do when they brought in the people after us. No one deserves this.”

He looked down when you began to shake, your tears hitting his wet skin. “Hey don't cry, beautiful.” He pulled you back, wiping at your tears. “We'll get through this.” He told you. 

When your sniffles wouldn’t stop, he looked down at the water before turning back to you. “How about I show you something?” He told you, dropping back into the pool. 

“Show me what?” You tried to stop your tears from falling, wiping at them with the towel you were going to give Jimin. 

“Watch.” He smiled at you before disappearing under the water. 

You leaned over the edge, looking down into the dark pool. You weren’t able to see all the way to the bottom, probably going much deeper than you would be able to swim in. However as you tried to find where Jimin had gone, you suddenly saw a shimmer of scales breach up into the light. You gasped, trying to find the figure again. You quickly fell backwards as a mermaid looking tail made a splash on the surface. You flinched as the water sprayed on your, moving an arm up to keep the chlorine from getting into your eye. 

As you lowered your arm, another gasp pulled from your lips. Jimin’s head had popped out of the water, his nose still under. You could see pale scales surrounding his face, leading to sharply pointed ears. As he swam closer, you moved back to the edge. The more he pulled himself out, the more of his true form you could see. 

His gills moved on the side of his neck, two openings on each side. As he used his hands to pull himself closer to the ledge, the fins on the side of his forearm caught your attention. His fingers flexed, causing the webbing between them to stretch. His nails were also pointed just as sharply as his ears were. 

You giggled when he pushed closer to your face, his nose almost brushing up against yours. The fins along his back moved up and down his spine, closing and opening back up. Your eyes moved to the tail that flicked behind him, its gray fins moving in the water as if it was hair.

“You look—beautiful.” You choked out, staring at his tail swishing along the waves. “Jimin, you're extraordinary.” You told him, looking back at him. 

“Thank you, beautiful.” Jimin spoke quietly, his breath hitting your lips. 

Without thinking about it, you dropped your head down and planted your lips against his plush ones. They were wet and not from him licking them. It was almost like he had gloss–and most often than not it did look like he did. But you figured it was something having to do with his abilities. 

You pulled your head back as Jimin pushed himself out of the pool, his scales and fins disappearing the more he came out of the water. You didn’t pay any attention to it though, instead placing your hands on his face to keep him close. 

Your noses bumped against each other, teeth clashing just a bit. You gasped out with something pointed touched the tip of your lips, allowing him room to slip his tongue into your mouth. It was like the end of a tentacle, but still felt like a normal tongue. It just had a weird shape to it. 

With Jimin now fully out of the water, he crawled over your body, pushing you to lay back onto the floor. You didn’t pay attention to how his skin was wet, your scrubs dried him. At least until his webbing hands moved to pull your shirt up and over your head. 

Jimin pulled back and watched as you seemed to look towards the locker room entrance, before moving your attention back to him. You watched as his eyes went glossy for a moment before smiling down at you. 

“Don’t worry, I asked Taehyung to put my sign on the door.” He told you. 

You smiled at him, enjoying how he knew what you meant with just one look. That or maybe you were just transmitting your thoughts into his without knowing. You didn’t care to think more about as Jimin went back to peppering your neck with kisses. 

Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, legs crossing behind his back as he quickly picked you up. His hands were placed under your thighs, fingers inching closer to your core that seemed to radiate so much heat. He could feel your lower lips through your scrubs, the water from his dip in the pool having soaked you through. Though even if he wasn’t wet, you were sure you would have soaked through without him. 

You back made contact with cold metal, realizing it was a bench he had set you down on. Your legs dropped from his waist which gave Jimin the moment to strip you of your pants. Raising your hips, you made a face at the wet metal. Jimin took notice and moved to grab a towel from the other end. 

“Lean up.” He told you. 

As you sat up, he was kind to place the towel down on the bench. You wanted to giggle at how domestic it seemed. You were about to have sex with Jimin in the pool area–which was public–and here he was trying to make you comfortable. 

When everything was set down, you laid back down, quickly pulling Jimin back to you causing him to gasp. 

“That was sweet of you.” You giggled, pecking his lips. 

His puffy lips pulled into a dazzling grin. “Gotta make sure you’re as comfortable as possible.”

You giggled as he began to suck on your skin again. He didn’t leave marks, only giving you kisses and a tease from his pointed tongue as it poked out from between his lips. He made his way down, your back arching as he paid close attention to your chest. He didn’t stay too long though, quickly moving down your naval and to the band of your underwear. 

You gulped as you watched his slitted eyes glance up at you. You realized how much being a siren really fit Jimin. His looks were something that called your attention. His personality was what brought you into his waters. And you were swimming deeply in them. 

When you felt the cold air brush against your core, you let out a breath. You gasped as you felt Jimin’s breath hitting your thighs, back arching as you began to feel your nerves spark from the proximity.

Jimin looked up at you with hooded eyes, his lips skimming over the skin of your thighs causing you to flinch. He looked down at your core, eyes filled with lust as he grew closer. Your legs placed themselves on his shoulders, knees going over his shoulders. 

The small flick of his pointed tongue on your clit, you gasped out loudly, almost sitting up in your haste. Jimin leaned up though, quickly holding your hips down. His tongue was long if he wanted it to be. So while the fat part of it laid against your clit, the tip probbed at your entrance. 

You were withering from the pleasure, grinding against his tongue the best you could with his arm holding you down. Your moans only seemed to spur Jimin on more as he allowed his entire appendage to enter your heat. This caused you to cry out, hands trying to reach out to grab onto something. 

Jimin moved one of hands into yours, intertwining your fingers together. You began to clench down on his tongue, but he quickly pulled back before you were able to cum. You cried, wanting to sit up and find why he had stopped. But when you looked at him, you saw him quickly taking off his swim shorts. 

Your pussy clenched as you moaned from the sight of him. Your fingers reached for the towel under you again, clenching the fabric. He crawled back over you, fingers delicately swiping against your cheeks. You took in the scales that stuck around his face, feeling breathless from how beautiful he truly was. 

“Thank you.” He whispered against your lips. 

You softly moaned when his cock fell against your lips, hot and heavy between his legs. You moved our hips in a circle, rubbing your clit along the ridges of Jimin’s cock. He groaned against your lips, pulling away to look down at where you were using him to pleasure yourself. 

With his hands on your hips, he allowed you to use him as you please. You began to whine at how he didn’t seem to help you, which made him laugh. The pout on your lips made him lean over to kiss it away. 

“I got you, Beautiful. Don’t worry.” He grinned, teeth sharp. “I’ll give you what you want.”

With his words, he took a hold of his cock and lined himself up at your entrance. But he still kept teasing you. He only allowed himself to push the tip in, smiling evilly as you began to wither from him not moving forward. 

“Jimin.” You whined, circling your hips to make him go deeper. 

“Sorry.” He giggled, leaning over you as he pushed deeper. “It’s so fun to watch you whine.”

You would have retorted something back, but he started to thrust his hips back and forth effortlessly stopping you from saying anything. The only thing that seemed to slip out from your mouth were whines and moans. It started to dry your throat out. 

Jimin’s mouth hung open as his own grunts slipped past his lips. He had his eyes squeezed shut, basking in the way you seemed to grip him. One of his arms held him up while the other was gripping your hips. 

“You gonna cum?” He whispered to you as he leaned down. 

“Come on, beautiful. I waited for you to come.” His breath hit the shell of your ear, causing goosebumps to raise on your skin. “I want to feel you fall apart on my cock.”

You cried out as your orgasm started to form. Jimin shut his eyes tightly, groaning from you squeezing around him. Just as he felt your pussy throb around him, he quickly pulled out and let go of his release on your stomach. You withered on the bench, moaning from your orgasm that was coming down. 

Once Jimin had calmed down from his own high, he began to message your legs. Your breathing was returning to normal, which made him smile. “You okay, lovely?” He called out.

“I’m fine.” You giggled, looking at him. 

“Let’s go take a shower.” He told you, grabbing your hand. 

“Is there anyone left?” You couldn’t sit up just yet, which made Jimin pick you up. 

He carried you bridal style to the locker room, not caring to pick up the clothes you had left in the pool.

“No. We are alone.” He told you. 

When he walked into the men’s locker room, you were in fact alone which made your beating heart calm down. He set you down on a bench as he prepared the shower for the both of you. You watched as he moved around to get everything, appreciating his butt. 

He sent you a playful glare at the thought, which made you giggle. Once everything was ready, you both washed away the activities of the day. Both the normal ones and the dirty. 

Series Masterlist

UPDATE. Next chapter update will be November 13 , 6:00 PM (US Central Time)

[onegianthotmess]

Jack Howl is a Hufflepuff-

Despite being a tsundere, he checks all of the boxes for getting into Hufflepuff.

Jack is an incredibly hard worker and doesn’t half ass work of any kind, always remaining dedicated to the task at hand in order to achieve his goal or the final product of what he’s doing and he is never afraid to learn a new skill or new way of doing things or how to make things easier for himself.

Jack also has a strong sense of justice and fairness, believing in pack mentality and the social chain of command and refusing to disrupt it, instead he pours himself into helping the second in command, Ruggie, in order to feel useful and because he sees no one helping him or his siblings much outside of the odd thing that they ask once in a while. He’s also a man of his word and doesn’t like being in debt, being very willing to repay Jade in a way for unknowingly ruining some mushrooms he was growing and being on time for his shifts at the Monstro Lounge during that week of paying back for what he did. And he has always said that fairness is one of the most important things or implied it many times throughout the game.

Jack is also quite patient, despite being rough around the edges. He will sit through Sebek’s nonsense, patiently tell Deuce about proper eating and exercising/workout routines, and is willing to hear people out whenever they say they’re concerned about something. And tying back into his hard working attitude, Jack has the patience to learn new skills without much fuss and will always take advice if it’s generally a good idea and his instincts don’t lurch him away from just the mention of it.

Though this is a given since he’s a wolf, Jack is incredibly loyal to an almost unbelievable standard. He is loyal to helping his friends, to those he deems family, to keeping his word, to helping the Bucchi Triplets as much as he can, and to his pack and his place in that pack. His loyalty has never once faltered and he will not give up on anyone or leave their side. Jack has always been helpful and not once has he given up on someone he cares about at NRC.

And last, but certainly not least, Jack is incredibly kind and reliable. As I’ve stated before, Jack is a man of his word, incredibly loyal, and will do anything within reason to pay someone back if he’s wronged them. He’s also very willing to help anyone in need and will do so swiftly and dutifully, always happy to help.

Jack is also a plant mom-

And it’s for these reasons that Jack Howl would be sorted into Hufflepuff by the Sorting Hat!

He’d definitely be on the Quidditch team, most likely as a Beater thanks to his build and upper arm strength. His best subjects would be Herbology and Defense Against the Dark Arts, maybe he’d be decent at Transfiguration, and he’d likely struggle in Charms purely due to pronunciation and History of Magic because he isn’t a history kind of guy.

Jack would probably end up being pretty well-known in the history of Hogwarts Quidditch as one of the best Beaters Hufflepuff and Hogwarts as a whole have ever seen.

Also, I had fun with this! I’ll probably do another one of these soon!