#curvin

[neonstatic]

[ID: (Image 1) Part of the lyrics of So High School by Taylor Swift. It reads, "Touch me while your bros play Grand Theft Auto." (Image 2) Tweet by King Von Force Ghost (palestine flag emoji) @ Raceplay Shawty that says, "I actually don't know what I'd do if I was trying to land the helicopter on sky lift and I heard Taylor swift sucking dick over team mic" End ID]

We have Video Games by Lana Del Rey at home

[barbwritesstuff]

Pls don't feel bad about the time skips! I read ppl complaining on the forum but I think they miss the point of TT.

It's meant to show how much of a curse vampirism actually is. Like no matter how much you try to keep your humanity, you are functioning on a completely different wavelength as humans and one thing that encapsulates it are the time skips. You can't have a non vampire partner or child and expect a happy ending, one distraction or something gone wrong and you lose a decent chunk out of their lives without realizing. It's a story meant to lack agency! Being a vampire in your world is only meant to end three ways: being hunted, starved, or walking into the sun. And most probably utterly alone.

Writing is a learning curve that never stops curvin'. And, to be clear, that's something I really like about writing. I really enjoy trying new things and getting feedback on readers on whether or not those things worked.

I didn't expect the time skips to be contentious, but I can understand why some people don't like them.

They feel like they remove agency in a choice based game. That's a very real critique that I totally understand.

Unfortunately, they've been baked into the narrative from the start. I always planned on Thicker Than to take place over a decade (actually, originally it was 13 years, but I shortened it to a decade to show a tiny wee bit of mercy to the human ROs) and the time skips are the only real way to do that.

The time skips make sense for me because they show how vampires change over time. The player gets to level up their powers and becomes more a part of the undead world.

A just resurrected fledgling is not going to be the same creature as a ten-years-dead vampire. And while you're still very young, it makes the final showdowns a little more probable.

The player's character isn't a total noob by the end of the game.

I've tried to brainstorm some ways to smooth over the transitions, but the truth is, they're already pretty much as good as I can make them. So I hope those that don't like the time skips aren't too put off by them.

[flashlight-sticker]

Day 3 - “Is this what you want?”

Today the streets were loud, boiling with life, rainfall heaving down onto the inhabitants, with unbearable traffic, some absolute morons yelling at each other through rolled down windows and an insane amount of responsibilities suddenly falling onto Francis’ shoulders.

It is on days like this that he regrets quitting smoking. But all of that (thankfully) was over.

Aside from the paperwork.

His opinions changed a lot throughout the centuries, but there were things that he felt very strongly about. For example, that your shoes should always match your bag, that dark brown was certainly not his colour and that paperwork was awful. Paperwork was something he dreaded with his entire being, for his hand hurt too much after signing, signing and signing everything, for he was having a migraine after hours of trying to figure out some misprint, only to find out later that the whole paper was actually never meant for him in the first place, for the moment he looked at the dull papers, black lines crossing them all over, he felt his heart sink and eyes roll at a yet another request from one of his officials.

He dragged himself up the staircase and took out a key. The wrong one, of course, because the universe despised him today.

The clicking of the lock, the smashing of the door against the wall, his bag falling onto the floor and him slumping against the corner of the hallway, on top of the shoe cabinet.

Francis knew he needed a moment after such a day, just sitting there in silence for a few minutes before he said anything to the love of his entire life, or he’d look too miserable for his own liking. Or, at least Francis thought that he needed it, before he heard the sweetest words flow out of the dimly lit living room, where Alistair was, no doubt, reading.

“Welcome home, Fran!”

A lazy smile appeared on his face.

“Hello.” He said back, softly.

***

“Ugh…” it was taking way too long for him to get through all of that. Perhaps, just perhaps, he should’ve done all of this when Ludwig told him to. And perhaps (perhaps!) he needed to look at this law that was passed on a little earlier. And perhaps—

Francis threw his head back, eyes closing and hands covering his face. This is exactly why he didn’t like this whole “sign the damn paper” thing. It wasn’t just about signing the damn paper. It was about figuring out whether or not they had the finances for it, if it was the right thing to do, if there were loopholes through which one can do something questionable. And, of course, it was about endless, notorious, boring calculations. It was about unnecessary drama and pity parties… and his thoughts were driving him insane again.

“This is hell” he picked up a pen and looked at it with disinterest, not really looking at it at all “I am in hell.”

“Then I’m here to save you.” Francis jumped up in his seat, head snapping to the right. Too invested in his own thought, he failed to notice the door opening, or a certain Scotsman leaning onto it, observing him. The same Scotsman that was now looking at him with a smug grin and a glint in his eyes.

Francis shot him a look. It was meant to be threatening, but either Alistair didn’t care after being objected to it so many times, or he completely misunderstood it for a ‘what do you want?’, because he answered :

“I made tea.” and nodded to the corridor, after which he walked out of the office.

***

Upon entering the kitchen, Francis was greeted by the sight of Alistair, who spared him a mere glance before continuing to pour tea into two cups.

And the stove on, for some horrid reason, but that’s a headache he’ll deal with later.

He sat down opposite to Alistair, looking at him with glassy eyes. No thoughts were really in his head. They generally had the tendency to disappear once he locked his eyes on Scotland and he still wasn’t sure whether that was a blessing, or a curse.

He watched Alistair’s hands place the teapot back onto the table, his fingers curving at the handle of his cup, holding it sternly, thumb tapping its top.

And looking at that, Francis reminded himself that he should probably take his mug. He reached out slowly, holding the porcelain in his palms, warming them against the liquid inside.

He took a sip.

Alistair followed his example, eyes closing for a moment, the way he always did when appreciating a good earl grey.

“How was your day ?” the question was gentle and Francis understood that Alistair was prompting him to a rant, the way he did when he knew that Francis was in the mood for gossiping (almost always).

He smoothed his hair behind his ear. “Horrible.” Another sip. “Today was absolutely horrible.”

Alistair answered with a low hum and Francis felt the need to continue.

“First the gas in my car was about to run out, so I pulled over to the gas station, but there was a huge line. So, when it’s my turn, I look at the hose and it says that it ‘reaches both ways’” he put the cup down and mimicked the speech-marks. “and then it didn’t! So, then I have to drive out and get to another line and that goes by pretty quickly. And when I went to the cashier, they go ‘Sir, am sorry, ye cannae pay with a card’” the imitation of the accent made Alistair choke on his tea with laughter, but Francis was too absorbed in his own story to notice. “And I don’t have any cash on me at the moment!

“I go into the car, search high and low for these damned thirty pounds and I find them. Ten minutes later!

“I finally get out of the gas station and I’m driving to the conference room and there’s a traffic jam. I stay in there for nearly half an hour!” He sips his tea again, more angrily this time.

“So, of course I arrive late and the first thing I hear this morning is a lecture from Germany about punctuality, after which your brother” Francis points an accusing finger at Alistair across the table, who puts his hands up in surrender, after which proceeds with even more poison in his voice “uses it against me, as a proof that I’m lazy and am no fit for a ‘gentleman’ like him!

“So, now I have a lot of work and a headache. Work that you are preventing me from doing!” he looks Alistair in the eyes and both of them know that it’s a joke. A playful remark. But Alistair pretends that he doesn’t. He leans forward and tries to hide his smirk as he speaks.

“Is this really what you wanna do? Paperwork?”

Francis lets out a groan at the mention and throws his head back again, hands wrapping around his cup.

He hears Alistair chuckle.

“I might have something that can make it up to you a little.”

The mention makes Francis curious and he tilts his head towards Scotland slightly. He watches him get up, hears the fridge open and is soon presented with a plastic box being set in front of him on the table.

It takes him a second to realise what he’s looking at, but it does light his day up a little when he understands what it is. Francis smiles.

“You got me a crème brûlée!”

Alistair shrugs his shoulders and nods to the side, a small smile on his own face.

“Thought you deserve a little treat.”

“Mmm, thanks” France hums out, eyes softening as he looks up at Scotland.

He gets up, circles his chair, fingers dancing on top of it lightly, after which he stands directly in front of Alistair. “There’s something that would make me feel even better though.”

There’s a played naivety in his voice and Alistair thinks that he has a pretty good idea what that ‘something’ is. But Francis gave him a role and he’ll have to carry it out.

“Oh?” he reaches out and plays with the ends of France’s blond hair. There’s a hint of a smile in his voice “And what is it?”

“Kiss me.”

And so he does.

[theenchantedteaparty]

CAN’T IMAGINE NO NXGGA CURVIN’ ME.

[risingshine]

❛ wait, you think i’m cute? ❜ (from Shrike to Chiasa)

"Of course so! I mean, ya got those nice curvin' horns, those cute pointed ears, and that small peircing under ya lip - sho! I just wanna kiss every piercing ya have!~ Not ta mention ya suprised face is adorable~"

[windrunner]

Now I bend like a willow / Thinkin’ of you / Like a murmurin' brook / Curvin' about you / As I sip on the rest of the coffee you left / A kiss left of you .

[snowbunnyybabeyyy]

Bitch I been that motherfucker always loaded hoping that these faggots fucking die middle finger to the sky, DirtyNasty$uicide Midget Bitch with me holdin’ dirty 9 cross In line little bitch I never gave a fuck Ask if I did nothin’ , who lit em up locate yo’ bitch little bitch I fuck around, feed her Skeezer musty dick Chevy Ridin’, Swervin, Curvin, purpose I ain’t got no where to go, bag is full of soul

[longlistshort]

Mark Georgiades, “Ghost of the Abandoned Bride”, Metal Steel and copper

Shelly Steck Reale, “The Fate You Choose”, Ceramic, wood, moss

Spooky season has begun and Florida CraftArt’s current exhibition Ghost Stories, curated by Catherine Bergmann (Curatorial Director of Dunedin Fine Art Center), is a perfect way to start celebrating.

The following artists are featured in the exhibition: Alegrobot, Demeree Barth, Karen Brown, Wendy Bruce, Joyce Curvin, Creative Clay, Coralette Damme, Katie Deits, Ed Derkevics, LA Finfinger, Eric Folsom, Janet Folsom, Mark Georgiades, Kristina Gintautiene, Erin Griffin, Cort Hartle, Judy Heady, Emma Hobbs, Pam Jones, Polly Johnson, Tyler Jones, Janna Kennedy, Traci Kegerreis, Betsy Lester, Cindy Linville, Richard Logan, Trent Manning, Francine Michel, Elizabeth Neily, Jacqueline Philip, Nick Reale, Shelly Steck Reale, Christine Renc-Carter, Jennifer Rosseter, Addie Rodriguez, Cooky Schock, Donna Slawsky, and Brandy Stark.

On Thursday, 10/5/23, in partnership with Keep St. Pete Lit, a group of local writers will be telling ghost stories at the gallery inspired by pieces from the exhibition. The reading will take place at 6pm.

Below are a few more selections-

Work by Alegrobot, Hand sculpted paper clay, acrylic paint

Janet Folsom, “Apparitions”, Mixed media (top left); Eric Folsom, Gravestone, bronze on marble; Donna Slawsky, (top right) “The Devil’s Work”, Stained glass, beads, and Creative Clay, Stephanie,(bottom right) “Monkey Dreams”, Mixed Media

About Creative Clay, who contributed several works to the exhibition-

“Creative Clay achieves its mission by providing ongoing studio arts workshops for individuals with disabilities five days per week. Creative Clay teaching artists provide students with education and experience in artistic techniques, as well as vocational skills related to the display, promotion, and sale or their expressive work.”

Katie Deits, “Haunted by the Past”, Ceramic, cotton, pencil, acrylic paint (left) and Nick Reale, “Out of the Wood” wood sculpture

Francine Michel “Mysteries of Urraca Mesa”, Water mixable oil, collage

Ed Derkevics, “Burnt Offerings”- “3 Potions” and “Jagged”- Mixed Media, recycled found objects

Janna Kennedy, “Souls and Pharmaseuticles”, 1800s Cabinet Cards, 1902 Pharmacy Ledger & Medical Ads, 19th Century Medicine Bottles

Kristina Gintautiene, “Slava”, Birch cradle board, Tissue paper, wax, oil pigments

LA Finfinger, Ghost Ceramic work (bottom left); Alegrobot, “(For the Record) he ordered the special”, Vinyl record, paper clay; Traci Kegerreis, “The Lost Lenore”, Mixed media (center top); Demeree Barth, “Remembering Sedlec Ossuary”, Clay, bullet casings, wood display stand, found objects (bottom right)

[driptape]

“ i been literally curvin' all these hoes for you . “ || @widowings​

[intrinsicmotives]

me just curvin you animals.

SKILL

[justabumatthepark]

"Only Lord knows I've been goin' hammer

Dodgin' paparazzi, freakin' through the cameras

Eat at Four Daughters, Brock wearin' sandals

Yoga on a Monday, stretchin' to Nirvana

Watchin' all the snakes, curvin' all the fakes

Phone never on, I don't conversate

I don't compromise, I just penetrate

Sex, money, murder, these are the breaks

These are the times, level number nine

Look up in the sky, .10 is on the way"

[sticksoffire]

Listen to [DJ Screw] M'chelle - Soul Searchin by DJ (Higher Learning OST) Dead Maxton Knight (Die Klansmen)

[gotchipoints]

u curvin her shit?

[ellethespaceunicorn]

Tell me somethin' You mothafuckas can't tell me nothin' I'd rather die than to listen to you My DNA not for imitation Your DNA an abomination This how it is when you in the Matrix Dodgin' bullets, reapin' what you sow And stackin' up the footage, livin' on the go And sleepin' in a villa Sippin' from a Grammy, walkin' in the buildin' Diamond in the ceilin', marble on the floors Beach inside the window, peekin' out the window Baby in the pool, godfather goals Only Lord knows I've been goin' hammer Dodgin' paparazzi, freakin' through the cameras Eat at Four Daughters, Brock wearin' sandals Yoga on a Monday, stretchin' to Nirvana Watchin' all the snakes, curvin' all the fakes Phone never on, I don't conversate I don't compromise, I just penetrate Sex, money, murder—these are the breaks These are the times, level number nine Look up in the sky, ten is on the way Sentence on the way, killings on the way Motherfucker, I got winners on the way You ain't shit without a body on your belt You ain't shit without a ticket on your plate You ain't sick enough to pull it on yourself You ain't rich enough to hit the lot and skate Tell me when destruction gonna be my fate Gonna be your fate, gonna be our faith Peace to the world, let it rotate Sex, money, murder—our DNA

[automatismi]

E sò venuto fin"e a ccà

Cu 'o sfizio e te putè guardà

Uocchie curvine che quanne rire

è n'ata vita che mò annanz' me cumpare

Eh statte cu'mme

[audiomoods]

Now I bend like a willow Thinkin’ of you Like a murmurin' brook Curvin' about you As I sip on the rest of the coffee you left A kiss left of you

Heaven - Mitski