#kind of crazy i think i got too many printed

[cobaltfluff]

stuff I'm taking to the EU Fanfest WoL trade!!

[cvnt4him]

i would request monoma x reader bc I'm literally going crazy about him but idk-- OMG NVM MONOMA X KIND/SOFT READER

BITCH ME TOO WHEN I TELL YOU HE FR GOT ME FOAMING OUT THE MOUTH LIKE IM A RABID ASS DOGGGG.

You know you wrong as hell for that picture tho.. bc why he look so goofy, bones js doing my man wrong this season😞

...........................................

*˖°My heart.°˖*

...........................................

"I don't get what you even see in him, my love."

Mina scolds as she finishes crocheting your last butterfly loc into your hair.

It was 4 AM, you both had school in a couple hours and she had been doing your hair since 12 o'clock. Your head was pounding and was going to be throbbing for the next week. You can only imagine how bad it'll be once you put your hair into a ponytail...

You sigh from relief knowing that was the last braid you had to endure. She puts muse all over your hair, the soft yet cold air like foam covering your hair as she gently slides her hands down each braid costing it in the pleasant and calming scented hair applicator.

You stand and stretch deciding to just put your bonnet on without putting your hair up so you can just head straight to bed, not that you'd get much sleep since school started in like what less than an hour and a half? What's the point in even trying to sleep.

"he makes me laugh. he's a gentleman, he--"

"gentleman my ass."

She cuts you off with a scoff straightening up all of the things she used to do your hair, putting them away and washing the icky foam texture off of her hands.

"okay first of all, don't you ever in your life; he's a sweetheart, really he is. and I don't need you questioning my choices, you're like a sister to me so please for the love of God just fucking trust my choices for once, yeah?"

She hums and rolls her eyes putting her bonnet on and getting under her leopard printed covers. She sighs and wishes you a good night as you leave and head back to your dorm.

All you could think about while getting ready for school was how rude mina was. Sure he was quite unpleasant to your classmates but he's a sweet guy to you!! Well no.. he's just less of an asshole. You noticed that Everytime he would say some smartsss remark to your peers he wouldn't say anything even remotely bad to you. He wouldn't even look at you. It's like there was something about you that just made him go silent.

The way you looked at him however, that was a game changer. He would get all stuttery over his words and just get flustered to the point he'd live without kendo needing to assist. (Knocking his hardheaded ass out)

You figured he had a crush on you which you were completely alright with due to you reciprocating his feelings! He was so beautiful and rather charming in his own way. He was distinguished and quite dashing!!!

You had no idea how people could just say such mean things to him!!

You finish off your look with a silver necklace that makes everything pop so beautifully. Your many rings matching indefinitely. You wore a white turtle neck and a pastel pink plaid skirt with white opaque tights on underneath. Baby pink Mary Jane's accompanying your soft aesthetic.

Being in college was fun for you, the party's the sleepovers the random socks on other people's dorm handles. It was an interesting experience, one of the greatest parts about it was how you could wear whatever you wanted! No dress code, no uniforms just your own unique style!

You walked with a sway to your hips as you made it to your class, to your surprise seeing how there were different students there than normal.

You look around and see groans and laughter coming from somewhere, you turn your head out the classroom door to see some of your friend and peers angry and uncomfortable whilst a manically laughing monoma boasts about something.

Mina sees you and lights up nodding her head in monomas direction telling you in girl talk or whatever the fuck to "get your fucking man before I have kirishima walk him like a damn dog."Her eyes saying more than enough.

You chuckle which catches others attention, including monomas. He turns with a raised brow to see you, his eyes widening and a pinky tint slightly becoming visible on his features.

"hello, neito."

He clears his throat and turns to you dusting off his outfit and giving you a small grin looking to the ground, unable to hold eye contact.

"hi y/- ahem. Y/n."

His voice cracked whilst he tried saying your name instantly making him get flustered and asking a loud and entertained kirishima have a belly laugh.

Monomas turns to them and instantly shouts at them calling them "Imbeciles" and "incompetent losers" and such, the way he spoke with such sophisticated mannerisms was just amusing to you, even while arguing and being angry with people he disliked he still manages to not use foul language and be somewhat civilized. It's quite neat.

You giggle catching his attention again, he turns to you and bows his head lightly with a smile as an apology.

"what are you up to, neito?"

You ask with a tilt to your head.

"who me?! I- uhm-- y'know the usual, classes are just taking over my brain at the moment, haha!"

He jokes, making you giggle again. God you were so cute to him, the way you innocently giggled or laughed at anything, the way you dressed to adorably like an innocent little girl was oddly compelling to him.

"i see you've gotten your hair done. It looks very nice, y/n."

He says to you nodding his head to your hair, the way you had little sparkles raying off of it and how you had little star shaped clips in your locs just completes your outfit.

"awh thank you neito!! You're so sweet!"

You jump into his arms with a hug, snuggling your nose into his shirt. He blushed intensively, getting stiff and tense underneath your touch. You did such foul things to him, making him flustered and blushy like this. He never felt this way for anyone, he always wanted to be a hero and show everyone that he was just as capable of doing things his former class rivals could.

He slowly wrapped his arms around your shorter figure leaning his head down and resting it on your head, his nose burying itself into your locs and smelling the sweet smell radiating off of them.

It was an unfamiliar smell to him, yet it was so intoxicatingly sweet. Like he'd smelled it before, or like it was just something he couldn't resist. A smell he was sure he wanted to take over his senses all the time. For the rest of his life even.

The hug lasted quite some time, an angry kirishima faux clearing his throat to end the long hug. Mina rolled her eyes and nudged him, she didn't like monoma really, but if you had then she'd just have to thug that shit out. For your sake.

You pulled away first, having monoma realize where he was, which was not in a perfect mansion with a beautiful rose garden, white picket fence, and a golden retriever running around with happy and cheerful barks.

He looks down at you ass you peer up at him with beautiful eyes, the way they shine so brightly even without sunlight raying into them, the way you bat your eyelashes at him and smile innocently.

He blushed while staring deep into your eyes. Fuck he'd just imagined a whole entire life with you, making you his wife and you have his kids.

You were evil and putting him under your spell. Your evil, wicked, enchanting, perfect, beautiful, absolutely breathtaking spell. Wait what?!

He got flushed and hid his face with his hand as he looked away, his other hand still on your waist.

You put one of your hands on his neck causing him to snap his neck to look right back to your face. You look down at his chest and rub your other hand up and down it and slowly look back up to him. You smile and move your hand that was once in his neck to his flushed cheek.

He wss going to kiss you. Fuck he was actually going to kiss you, finally, after having a huge crush on you for all these years you were going to kiss him. He'd finally make you his!

"AHEM. So yeah uh, we have to get to class, right y/n? Wouldn't want kids to catch you guys Frenching in the middle of the hallway while classes are in right? Right?"

Kirishima interrupts, making up an excuse to get you away from him.

Mina face palms herself while pulling kirishima away from the two of you. Monoma watching while he gives kirishima an evil, shit eating grin. Kirishima was practically foaming out of the mouth like a raccoon with rabies.

You simply giggle before letting him go. No no no, that's not what was supposed to happen! Why'd you let him go?!

"he's right, we should get to class."

You say quietly, never taking a step back still being rather close to him, peering up at him with wide eyes and offering him a smile.

He sighs and looks away. He was extremely disappointed. Why'd that shitty shark toothed fucker have to get in his way? You were finally going to kiss him.

"but, we can hang out later, if you'd like."

"yes!-- I uhm.. yes, I would like that, if you would."

He answers quickly, before stumbling on his words and saving himself from eternal embarrassment, not that toud ever make fun of him. He was cute, and flushy. Most people didn't get to see him like that not even kendo. You were honored and wnsted to spend more time with him. So you agreed. The two do you made plans and agreed to meet and have lunch, he'd take you to see a movie and you'd go out on dinner dates.

He had so many plans for the two of you. And once you start dating you better believe you're not allowed to be around anyone without him, not that he's jealous.. he's jealous. He's so jealous, he hates anyone that's not him being in your presence. He loves you! More than anything and anyone.

He holds you with grace, being so gentle with you throughout everything. Making sure you don't have tod I anything, not lift a single finger. He holds you tight at night making you feel safe and warm. He loves matching with you, and eating with you, and doing anything to ensure everyone knows you're his. He isn't insecure or anything but he's not oblivious to the rather hot people that swarm your school. He has a hard time reassuring himself that you only have eyes for him!

You're so kind and nice to everyone it's hard to believe you're his girlfriend. Seriously, no one believes you two, but you are. You're his and he's yours. No doubt about it, he'd choose you over the world.

He loves showing you off, boasting and bragging about how cute you are, how you're his girlfriend and how no one can ever even compare to you. How your skin glows in the sunlight without any help. How you're so strong and are better than anyone who ever existed. You can be a bit of an airhead at times, he even teases you about it, but let someone dare say some shit about you, he's ready to throw words. Something tells me hes not the best at hand to hand combat..

Anyways, he loves you dearly, he makes sure to tell you constantly. He doesn't want you feeling like you're less than perfect. He has standard, rather high ones too, and you meet them to a tee.

...........................................

AN: this is x black!reader bc I js got my hair done and I've become kinda obsessed w him so. Yeah!!! I'm definitely making more monoma and tenya content bc they've recently been clouding my head. Anyways love laugh love monoma!!!

This is kind of all over the place so come back later for more and much better content including him.

[9w1ft]

i declare

thinking about the tortured poets department the song, and the charlie puth line, and how maybe like, the act of declaring he should be a bigger artist helps place the song into the greater timeline.

because it’s a sort of weird thing to say in 2024 of an artist that’s no longer up and coming.

charlie puth got his start in youtube in the late 2000’s and released his debut single in february 2015. and leading up to that he had several EP’s and promotional singles. it made me curious, at what point might the people en masse start to pay him attention? i checked google trends and as you can see here he gets a huge jump between the 2014 and 2015 data.

(he then gets a further jump toward 2016 when he did a promo single featuring megan trainor, and then doing “see you again” with wiz khalifa. (coincidentally this song becomes one of the guest duets featured in the 1989 tour movie))

and i was looking around at articles from this time period, when i ran into this tasty morsel:

so i clicked on through

take a little ride with me

so to summarize, charlie puth had his breakout star peak over the course of roughly 2014-2016, during which he was up for an award at the 2015 MTV VMAs. he doesn’t win, and in fact, he loses out to taylor herself! later on in the article it talks about him going to an after party and hanging out with taylor selena and others. so it had me thinking, i could almost imagine taylor talking with her friends that year or that night, or even declaring to charlie himself in the wake of his loss and her win, in a giddy manner, at the party they are reported as having talked at, that he deserves more success than he gets. in this way i came to the conclusion that the timeframe of 2015-ish (rather than 2023) really fits the spirit of the lyric “we declared charlie puth should be a bigger artist”

and

yes.

yes fam.

the 2015 vmas was that vma’s.

that vmas.

let me pull quote an excerpt from the billboard article as i included above, just to emphasize:

4:40 PM: Charlie has the good fortune to walk the carpet in the wake of Taylor Swift’s gaggle of supermodel friends, including “Bad Blood” star Karlie Kloss, leading photographers to alternately yell “Charlie! Karlie! Charlie! Karlie!” as if it were a hectic version of Name Game. While on the carpet, Puth chats with multiple news outlets, and later he says of the dealing with the paparazzi, “It’s amazing that we view people in unnatural states and just love it. I don’t really understand it — it just makes me very uncomfortable. But, whatever. I’m so appreciative to be here.”

such a fun convergence of events, don’t ya think?

and just a few extra points i thought i’d add:

first, i don’t know how many of you remember how taylor was behaving that evening, but don’t you think she was giving major golden retriever energy??

both in how she was chasing after karlie that night,

and also… call me crazy but, her hairstyle??

(also she’s in a houndstooth print, har har)

and i can kind of envision this taylor, who brought the whole bad blood music video crew as her entourage, having more than several bars of chocolate at hand for everyone that night, but ending up eating them all herself 😆

and another thing that helps tie the song to this time period (maybe some of you have guessed?) the line “who else decodes you?” is extra apt because… *da da-da daaaaa*

🤗 karlie had just embarked on her coding journey!

on a more solemn note? i don’t think it requires too much of a stretch of the imagination to see “but you awaken with dread” “i chose this cyclone with you” among other lines pointing to the new layer of stress taylor probably was harboring around being with karlie in public. because this is all taking place in the year directly following kissgate 🥺

so there you have it folks! this is why the tortured poets department is a kaylor song to me 😌

[adickaboutspoons]

Happy sexual Sunday. In honor of Rhys announcing his upcoming substack by pointing at hand-written bulletpoints on a chalkboard with a screwdriver, I want to share the OnlyFans Stede idea that has been in my plot bunny pen for ages, but prolly isn't going to go anywhere. Stede's OF account was set up for him by Lucius, and is completely neutral content of him demonstrating basic auto maintenance and, like, how to tie a fishing lure, and a bunch of other Dad things, and he's completely oblivious to how unintentionally suggestive he's being. Like, he's filming himself working in the garden when it's super hot out, makes a "it's not the heat, it's the humidity" dad joke, strips off his shirt and uses it to mop his brow. He's on his hands and knees, pulling up weeds, and when he manages to pull up a particularly stubborn one, roots and all, kind-of-whispery/grunting-to-himself, "Aww, yeah. That's what you want, baby." Then he sits back and takes a deep drink from his water bottle, and accidentally holds it near his crotch while encouraging his watchers to stay hydrated. Ed is one of his subscribers and finds the whole thing just brain-meltingly hot. Eventually, they accidentally meet IRL, and Ed is trying to be SO COOL and not let it be known that he knows this guy and where from. And then they keep running into one another (by total coincidence - Ed hasn't become a convert to going to the farmer's market instead of just picking shit up from the grocery store on the off (likely) chance of running into Stede while he's there. Not at ALL.), and start becoming friendly. It's during one of these meetings Ed accidentally slips that he's a subscriber. He's mortified. For a moment he thinks Stede is going to get all weirded out. But Stede is just like "Oh! You like the feed? Why didn't you say so?! Always glad to meet my Only Fan!" (Stede has a v. healthy subscribership, but he thinks making the Only Fan joke is Hilarious) Stede asks for his username, and when he tells him, Stede is all "Oh! I know YOU! I can't tell you how much your feedback means to me. Always leaves me feeling all glowy for days!" Ed is all blushy and stammery and, "Uh... yeah, man. Me too." He offers Ed a hug, and Ed is internally combusting. Stede is all "If you've got any ideas for the feed, I'm always open to suggestions. Is there anything you'd like to see me doing?" There are MANY things Ed would like to see him doing. None of which are appropriate to give voice to in a crowded open-air market. Eventually eventually, after many instances where Ed is going crazy trying to figure out if it's a date or just a hang, there would be a v. thorough railing wherein Stede whispers all the tender, affirmational things Ed could ever have wished to hear. So! here's the only bit of it I've actually bothered to write:

The man on the screen smeared a little grease around the tight little hole, then inserted the cylinder into the gap in one smooth, gratifying motion. "There we are," he said, his voice a low, self-satisfied hum, "A nice, tight fit. And doesn't it feel good to do it yourself?"

Ed's breathing picked up pace a little.

"And that's how you replace a spark plug. Nothing shocking about it." He smiled a charming, little shit-eating grin and winked at the camera.

Ed's breath caught in his throat.

"So that's it for this one! Thanks, as always to my subscribers, and a special tip of the hat to this week's new friends," he looked away from the camera and put on a pair of gold wire-rimmed glasses. Ed swooned a little as he read out the names from an actual printed page.

At the end of it, he took off the glasses and looked directly into the camera again, his eyes soft and his smile genuine and kind. "Thank you for sharing this time with me. Lots of love!"

There was nothing explicitly sexual about the CapriSun_Erotica OnlyFans page. In fact, the most shocking thing about it was how roundly wholesome the content was. Just a man and his phone camera and a world of practical advice and dad jokes. An intensely hot man in the tiniest shorts or tightest jeans Ed had ever seen, who seemed allergic to doing up the top three buttons on his shirts, and that radiated so much DILF energy Ed was a little astonished the videos didn't just melt his phone screen. It was the most intensely arousing thing Ed had ever seen.

He eased himself out of his boxers and hit the replay button.

When he had cleaned himself up, he tapped out a quick reply. "Hey DaddyStede, great vid as usual. Really got my motor running. 😘"

[meruz]

Lightbox Expo 2023 is over!! Thank you to everyone who stopped by the table. I can't believe I sold out of both my sketchbooks AND my digimon fanbook... (multiple prints too?!)! I'm incredibly grateful... I will have a 2nd print run of both sketchbooks and online orders for the digimon book up in the next couple weeks so please keep an eye out for that!

More gushing abt the weekend under the cut

I sell at an average of idk... 3-4 events a year? So I would consider myself a frequent congoer though not necessarily full time lol. I'm a little jaded like it's not that I don't enjoy going to cons but theres definitely a bunch that feel like just-another-con-weekend to me lol, sometimes it's more work than play I guess. But this con felt really different! For the first time in a while I left a convention feeling really thrilled and giddy that I had been there. The kind of feeling I used to get when I would table at anime cons in highschool! And I think a lot of that is the people I met and talked to and the overall vibes at the event. Oh also I literally just had surgery and going to this con is like the only thing ive done this week besides lay in bed and play Story of Seasons on the nintendo switch and I thought I would be in pain and miserable but actually I HAD SO MUCH FUN...!!!! even when i skipped after-hours socializing every night to go home early and sleep 12 hours lol. SO ANYWAYS. YEAH. IT'S CORNY. BUT I wanna say thank you again to everyone who stopped by the table. Especially all the coworkers and long time mutuals who I met in person for the first time this weekend!! And the long time followers who told me they have been following me since homestuck or naruto or whenever. And college classmates who I haven't seen since graduation, crazy talented underclassmen who I'd never met but stopped by to say hi... So many people who absolutely made my day. SPECIAL thank you to my table partner Emi who is the best and such a good sport and accommodating to the point that I feel ridiculous when she thanks me for anything. And um also thank you to the artists who were cool and nice when I went up to their tables and blurted out 24917596 compliments in rapid succession. or only got one really awkward compliment out to LMAO... I felt so inspired and awe struck by everyone's work! God it was just so cool to be there. I LOVE ART....

Ok yeah thats it. its been a while since ive written a post-con blog post so earnestly lol.. here's my obscene haul photo I was buying stuff at this con like I was dying and couldn't take it with me LMAO.

I'm not gonna go tag everyone because I don't think everyones on tumblr but if you dont mind doing a little google search legwork: big x-men prints from chase conley, prints from jacki li/bguavas, azusa tojo, xanthe bouma, nicodaboy, susan yung, hormstuck, nessa tweneboah, linda liu, ash tahilan, zines also from jason dwyer, ash tahilan, aprilyn cunanan, veggiecakeface, deb lee, dune5and, uhh yoichi nishikawa art book and parakid calendar, stickers again from ash, marie lum, hormstuck, chiou, and emi hartana/crowlets OKAY I THINK I COVERED EVERYTHING THANKS FOR READING

[endlessnightlock]

I scare easily lol, but how about Hitchhiker from the horror prompts?

Thanks for the prompt, Anon! I know horror isn't the most popular genre in the Everlark fan community, lol, so I kept it pretty mild.

A-Z Horror prompts

(if you like weird stuff, send me a prompt from the list, fam. This is the only one I got so I'm open to more!)

The guy in the interview room says he's Peeta Mellark. He's not carrying identification, and his prints aren't in the state or federal system, so he could be anybody. I don't know if he has a reason to lie. He's young. Looks like shit. My first thought was junkie, but his eyes are clear.

The kid can't keep his leg still. I say leg, singular because he only has the one. I know that detail because my report states that when Peeta Mellark was brought in, the upper right-hand portion of his blood-soaked jeans was torn away, revealing a prosthetic leg attached well above his knee. Now he's in county-issued scrubs. We were out of sweats and T-shirts. He's not under arrest. He has no wounds, no scratches or caked skin under his nails, only the beginnings of a large bruise on the side of his face. And a story that can’t be true. Can it?

"Your leg a recent injury?" I ask, leaning back in my chair.

The kid shakes his head, never breaking stride with the leg. None of that blood on him was his. I know that. I'm just trying to get him talking.

"Childhood cancer. I lost my leg maybe twelve years ago. Good thing, too. If I'd just got the new one attached, I wouldn't have got away tonight. Took a while to get used to it," he explains, patting his left leg. "Wasn't the fastest runner to begin with. My ma says I stomp around like a bear."

He's rambling, but it's understandable if there's an inch of truth to his story. "Lucky guy. Well, Peeta, let's get directly to the point. I looked over the statement you gave Officer Leeg and watched the interview. I have some concerns."

Peeta meets my eye. Despite the jackshit he told Leeg, I'd swear he's not on anything. "I know it sounds crazy---"

"Yeah, it does."

"You should've been there," he said. "Do I have to tell you everything again? I'm, ah, I'm about to pass out or something. Haven't slept much the last few days."

"No, that's alright. Just answer a few questions if you wouldn't mind."

"Do I need a lawyer?" He asks, leg finally stopping.

"It's never a bad idea. But we're not figuring you as the perpetrator at this point. I can call you a public defendant if you want."

"Nah."

"So you told Officer Leeg that at approximately seven p.m., you were out on Highway 12, looking to hitch a ride. Never a good idea, you know that, right?" I add for good measure. "All kinds of things are liable to happen, as you well know."

Peeta shrugs. "I don't have a car. Still have places I need to get to."

"Ever heard of Uber?"

"Got to have money for that or at least plastic. I'm a little short at the moment."

"Seems like your ass just dropped in from Jupiter or something."

He laughs. Starting to loosen up. "No, I'm not claiming an alien abducted me."

"No. No mention of that. Let's go over what happened again, alright? I'll read over things and just ask questions where I feel it's warranted. So you're on Highway 12 with your thumb out when a Chevy truck, mid 80's model, you think?"

Peeta nods. "Tan and white. Decent shape. Some rust."

"And inside the truck's cab were three young men about your age. They had dark hair and an olive complexion, you said."

He squints at me. "Yes, they had a similar look to yours. Do you have many relations around here?"

"A Lot of us look alike in Seamtown. There was probably lots of inbreeding in the old days."

Peeta laughs, and I wink at him.

"Kidding. We're backwoods, but all of our DNA strands don't match. So back to your statement---these fellas offer to give you a ride."

For someone who said he was too tired to relay the whole story again, Peeta dives in head first. "Yep. There was no room in the cab, but the bed was empty. Was riding with them maybe half an hour before things started getting weird. It was really dark before Gale, the driver, flipped the headlights on. Seconds before before he slammed on the brakes. I about jumped out of my skin when something bounced off the front of the truck. I figured it was a deer. Lots of deer on the move around here at night. He didn't give me time to look around, just started arguing with the other two fellas---his brothers I think---before pushing the pedal to the floor. Seemed in a big hurry to get away. Anyway, he cut the headlights off, so I didn't get a look at what he hit with the truck, but whatever it was didn't look like a deer."

Now we're getting to the first interesting part of Peeta Mellark's statement to my officer: the part where it sounds like Gale Hawthorne (it's a small place, Seamtown) and his younger brothers involved themselves in a hit-and-run on Highway 12.

"So we've gone about five or so miles down the road, I guess, when Gale swerves to the side of the road and comes to a stop. 'This is as far as I can take you,' he said. He sounded frantic. 'Hop out.'"

"He never got out of the truck. It's black as pitch by now, and I'm not excited about being left alone on the side of the road, but after what happened earlier, it doesn't take much convincing to get me out of the truck bed. Something feels off, and I'd rather part company with them before anything else goes wrong. If something bad happened, they might be looking to get rid of a witness, I figured."

"So I hop out of the back of the truck and tell Gale thanks. He mutters something, then guns it out onto the road, and soon, the only thing I can make out is his taillights. I was still figuring out what I was going to do next when I heard it. Breaks squealing and tires screaming across the pavement, trying to stop fast. Then, that crashing sound, twisting, popping, tearing metal that makes you sick to your stomach."

I know exactly what he's describing. Been witness to too many accidents to get those sounds out of my head.

"Gale, he'd hit something else, and whatever it was, it was way bigger than a deer. I take off in a dead sprint towards the truck—at least as fast as I can run, thanks to my bionic leg. They're a good two or three miles down the road, but I'm fairly close when, all of a sudden, I'm not running on the road anymore—I'm off the ground. Feet dangling ten fuckin' feet above the pavement."

"I can't remember a whole lot after that, just the explosion when the truck's fuel tank blew. Whatever had me, some kind of huge bird, maybe some guy in a glider or something? dropped me onto the road, maybe 50 yards past the truck. That's when my pants got ripped. I don't know where all that blood came from. I'm sorry. I don't remember everything that happened tonight. Might have hit my head when that thing dropped me."

Peeta's brows knit together as his relay of the events comes to an end. "Chief Abernathy, can I ask you something? That officer I talked to earlier, Leeg? She wouldn't tell me what Gale hit with his truck when I was with them. I don't...I don't think it was a deer. It's driving me crazy. He drove off so fast, I can't help wondering if he hit someone with the truck."

I fold my arms on the tabletop and sigh. No reason to lie. the kid figured it out on his own. "Between me and you, we found a young woman in the location you described to us."

The color drains from his face. "Was she okay?" he asked.

There's a note of hope in his voice I hated to dash. "Nah, kid. She's dead."

His eyes glaze over, and he slumps backward as the reality hits him. "Hers is a sad story," I admit. "Second, hell, make that the third tragedy to happen in that family. The girl's parents died in a house fire. The oldest daughter was asleep in bed at the time. Fire didn't kill her but left burns across her whole body. Lost her mind. The county sent her somewhere for mental treatment---girl claimed she was some sort of mythological bird. Like a phoenix, but that's not what she called it. Happened a dozen or so odd years ago."

"A Mockingjay," Peeta said, turning to face the two-way mirror in the room. "I read something about her somewhere," he added casually.

I snap my fingers. "Yeah, that was it. Mockingjay. The girl disappeared from the facility one day. Katniss Everdeen. The young lady who died tonight was her sister Prim. You wonder how much a person can take without breaking all that death and pain. I don't know what Katniss would do if she found out about her sister's death on top of everything else."

"Maybe she already knows," Peeta says, his leg beginning to shake again. "Uh, confession time, I guess."

He waves his hands. "Not about anything tonight. I was at the facility with her, with Katniss. We kind of had a thing, I don't know. I left right after she disappeared. I didn't go home. I guess I've sort of been wandering around the area, looking for her since."

"Really. Odd that you weren't in our system, then."

Peeta rolled his eyes. "It was a physical rehab place, not drug detox. We weren't criminals. What happened to Gale and his brothers?"

I shake my head. "Gale's in the morgue. One brother with him. One in intensive care."

"Shit," he murmurs, rubbing his eyes. "Christ. Hey, am I free to go?"

I stand. "Free as the wind. Just let us know before you head out of town. Do you have somewhere to go tonight, kid?"

Peeta nods. "Yeah, I think so."

When he stands I pat him on the shoulder. "Thanks again. I'll see if we have something else you can wear."

Within a half hour or so, we had Peeta on his way. I don't know where he planned to go, but I never saw him again after that. It was almost like he'd been plucked off the ground by whatever that thing was and put somewhere safe.

[chubsonthemoon]

GUESS WHOSE BOOK ARRIVED TODAYYYYYY SO NOW I GET TO POST PICS!!!!

This is To Hell and Back Again, by dear dear @perexcri. Cover design by @byierficrecs (thank you SO much for letting me use your design!). Binding by me!

I'm not in ST fandom, but I had the pleasure of skimming this fic while I was typesetting, and can I just say? I'm rooting for these kids SO hard. I'd go to hell and back again for them--[GUNSHOT]

But in all seriousness, Leah's writing is whip-smart, sincere, and funny as hell. I cannot recommend it enough to anyone who is a fan of these crazy kids. Her ao3 is a veritable treasure trove of excellent byler stories, which you should absolutely check out right now go do it!!!

As usual, process chatter and more pics, under the cut! <3

WORD COUNT: 144k

FONTS:

Title: Hellprint

Heading/Chapter Headings/Spine Titling: Norwester

C4 Summary: Roboto Condensed

Main Body Text: Garamond

COVER MATERIAL: Epson Premium Presentation Paper Matte, printed on my Epson Ecotank (more on that later baha)

HEADBANDS: Trebizond silk thread in the colors Garnet and Black

EDGE PAINTING: Acrylic paint in Crimson and Black

TITLING: Red iron-on foil for the text and white HTV for my maker's mark. Cut by Charlotte, my Cricut!

BINDING:

This was my first go at a German Bradel binding! I've seen lots of Renegade folks use this method and am so psyched I got around to trying it myself. I modified DAS's approach a bit and tipped on endpapers instead of sewing them in (there were a lot of new things to learn so I decided to shelve sewn endpapers for the next binding XD). I also only had 2.0 mm bookboard instead of 1.0 mm, so instead of layering two of the same boards like DAS did, I instead used one 2.0 mm board and one very thin piece of cardboard to create the groove for the hinge. The original article that DAS bases his video on actually uses boards of two different sizes too--a "thick" board and a "thin" board--but I still want to experiment with DAS's way of doing it, especially since I think it'll be easier to do cutouts on thinner board.

As far as matching the groove with the hinge, I think I did pretty okay for my first try! One board is definitely better fitting than the other though baha. There's always room for improvement, but hey that's where half the fun is anyway (and also you can't tell after the case-in whew), so I'm not stressed about it :D

COLOR SCHEME:

Nearly all of my design decisions for the color scheme were based off of @byierficrecs's gorgeous cover design! They were so generous in letting me use their cover and answering my questions about fonts, for which I can't thank them enough. And with so many wonderful elements to work with, it was so much fun to tease out the elements I loved from their work!

I decided to keep with the theme of red/black, which I also thought was fitting for a ST fic set largely in the Upside Down. Thus, black painted edges with red vines, as a kind of inverted, "upside down" continuation of the cover:

Even the thread I used to sew the signatures is red/black! :3 (please also ignore how the picture of the textblock is not focused on the actual textblock ajsldkfjs it was very late when I took that photo)

COVER PRINTING:

This was my first time printing a cover on my new printer (!!!), and BOY oh boy was it an adventure. Figuring out the dimensions took a second, but not as long as it took me to figure out what settings produced something I was happy with. Behold, all my test prints:

Very long story short, let's just say now I understand why being a prepress color specialist is literally a career you can have in publishing LOL.

Also, for some reason I could only sometimes get the bleed to work? Basically what I ended up doing was painting over the parts where the design didn't quite extend over the turn-ins, using with the same black acrylic paint I used for the edges. You can see this more clearly in the photos I took of the groove, and the endpapers covered the messy bits when I cased in:

THE MAIN INGREDIENT: LOVE

Finally!! The most important part of the process!!! HI LEAH ILY!!!! This fic is special for a lot of personal reasons, but chief among them is LOVE!!!! Your A/N's made me tear up when I first read it, because AH! You read my words of love!!! And went and wrote hundreds of thousands of your own words of love!!! And now I hope I've given that love back once again :3 And on and on we go, ad infinitum, until we are relieved of the curse of literacy and greet whatever comes after all this, thanks be to Todd. But until then, I'm so glad I get to shoot holes out of bagels and scream about radioactive tumblr posts and cry over fake people with you, friend :] Truly, peace and love on FUCKING Planet Earth. We are making it and we will all go together when we--[ANOTHER GUNSHOT]

I'm so excited to see where we're going, and what other stories we have to tell. But for now: EEEEEEEE YOU WROTE A BOOK!!!!!!!

<33333!!!

[roseillith]

Going back to Ninku episode 29, but it seems like the way you tried to insert action scenes is the same as what you did for Naruto.

Wakabayashi: Both feel the same, don’t they.

Perhaps, I thought you changed the setting considerably along with the storyboard.

Wakabayashi: Yeah, I changed it. (laughs)

I could see what kind of action you wanted to show in the process.

Wakabayashi: Obviously Ninku‘s action format was transferred over to Naruto. Still it wasn’t fully formed, but I started to notice something at that time. How to set up action or the amount of cuts, I guess? I think that it was about time that I was finally able to figure it out.

So that’s how it got finalized on Naruto. The reason why those three episodes are called ‘divine episode’ even by anime fans who aren’t familiar with animation.

Wakabayashi: (Laughs) Thank you very much. (Interview Note: On Naruto, Wakabayashi handled directing, storyboarding, and animation supervision on following three episodes: episode 30 (The Sharingan Revived: Dragon-Flame Jutsu!); episode 71 (An Unrivaled Match: Hokage Battle Royale!”; episode 133 (A Plea From a Friend). These are absolute must-watch episodes for Sakuga Obsessed.)

How did you end up getting involved with Naruto?

Wakabayashi: With Ghost in the Shell, we had discussions about working on subsequent episodes. As I kept working it, I found it would be troublesome to others,  so I let it drop to one episode. Around the time, I was thinking about what should I do next, then Naruto got started. There was opening available at Pierrot, so as I wobbled back there and Naruto‘s director (Yuto) Itachi suddenly handed me a scenario with a ‘here-you-go’ manner. That was episode 30. I thought I was more suitable for characters like Rock Lee, so Sasuke’s Sharingan story didn’t click with me. However, it seemed like an important episode, so I passed back my intention directly to the director (laughs). And that’s how it happened. Because I still had some time in my schedule, I tried to do storyboards, direction and animation supervision. Therefore, with the reaction I got from the Ghost in the Shell action-construction method as basis, I wanted to put a serious consideration on assembling the action sequence. I put my heart and soul into how to make that part of the manga really awesome.

Did you personally pick out animation team for this episode?

Wakabayashi: That’s right. I couldn’t leave out (Norio) Matsumoto and (Atsuko) Inoue. With three people, including myself, I had this crazy idea that we could pull off one episode by ourselves. Nowadays, I don’t know any joe could pull it off, but even in the past, Nakamura drew key animation with three people in Urashiman. (Interviewer Note: Norio Matsumoto is super animator of realist school. He handled many key animations of Wakabayashi’s action sequences. He and Wakabayashi met during Tatsunoko Lab days. The subject of Nakamura is about Future Policeman Urashiman episode 26 (From Neo Tokyo to Hell). In this episode, Takeshi Nakamura handled storyboard, animation supervision, and key animation.

That’s right, isn’t it. He did draw half of the act.

Wakabayashi: Yeah. That’s what I remembered. I thought that I should be able to do that too. It was quite difficult, but I had feeling that I could do it if I tried.

Even in the parts where Matsumoto’ key animation is drawn, there are detailed instructions densely packed in the storyboard’s fight scenes.

Wakabayashi: Everything was pretty much set in the storyboarding stage. When more key animation comes up for check, I just accept them with ‘yep, looks good’ manner. There are parts where I did corrections on expressions, timing correction during editing, or touch up here and there, but I left most of them alone.

On episode 30, Matsumoto’s key animation starts off in the middle of Act A?

Wakabayashi: Nope, it never started in the middle. It’s Act A all around.

So he worked on all of the Act A? Did Matsumoto work on half of episode 71 and 133 as well?

Wakabayashi: He did all of the Act A of episode 71. On episode 133, he worked on various parts in Acts A and B. After that, I, Inoue, and (Tokuyuki) Matsutake filled in whatever was left over.

So Matumoto’s key animations took up the most in episode 133.

Wakabayashi: That’s right.

In short, Matsumoto drew key animation on parts where Naruto shoots off.

Wakabayashi: That is Matsumoto’s. When he came aboard, I felt that I should give him the kind of storyboard he deserved.

Was it Matsumoto who worked on the tree branches that grow out in episode 71?

Wakabayashi: Yep, I know he’s good at it and because he himself was willing to do it (laugh). He knew how to arrange effects well, so I drew storyboard in consideration of bring out the best of it. We only made one episode of Naruto per year though.

You’re right. Just one per year (laughs)

Wakabayashi: Otherwise, the producer will not let you do it. Due to fact that it uses up tons of paper, so it would end up going over budget. We approached (the project)with a ‘it looks like the excitement is dying down, shall we kick it up the notch’ feel. (Translator note: Unlike typical copy paper, professional animation paper costs about 10 Yen/10 Cents per sheet. So using a lot of paper means drawing tons of frames thus costing millions of yen/thousands of dollars spent on extravagant scene(s). One reason why some anime studios disclose how much sheets used on their feature film or TV episode because they want to show off production value)

How long does it take to make one episode?

Wakabayashi: Animating takes about two and a half months. Storyboarding takes six to seven weeks. In order to build an action sequence, it requires considerable blending.

That’s because you were doing never-seen-before action sequences in your Naruto episodes.

Wakabayashi: That’s right. I thought such a situation was my life line. If this is something that other people can’t imitate, then this is probably where I think it should be.

Are such action sequences an accumulation of movies and other things you’ve seen?

Wakabayashi: They’re accumulations, all right. There was a lot of bizarre and strange stuff on air, especially when I was a kid. Simply put, it’s like saying, ‘you’re eccentric’, even though I didn’t knew what that word meant. To be specific, I like quirky things. I certainly have a desire to make up crazy situations.

Maybe I’m being too nosy, but it’s not good for your personal finances when you take six to seven weeks on a stroyboard.

Wakabayashi: You end up being broke. So I took the risk of becoming poor working like that. But I would get an immense satisfaction by doing it. It’s like living for that satisfaction. Once I finish directing episode, I take up a normal job temporarily. So I saved up money a year after, then I spend time on directing an episode afterwards.  That’s gist of it.

Oh, I see.

Wakabayashi: My point is, I wanted to make history. I wanted to leave a mark that says, ‘this kind of stuff is made by this guy’. When it takes time, it’s like trying to prove that nothing like those three episodes have ever been made.

Your episodes are in the same level as Takeshi Nakamura’s Gold Lightan episode.

Wakabayashi: Oh, thank you very much! It’s meaningful to make stuff like that. Lately there are young animators who’ve told me that they entered the anime industry after watching those episodes and I was very happy. I’m happy that I could influence people in such a way.

You have clearly have a different personal stance between doing direction and doing storyboards.

Wakabayashi: I do. When I’m doing storyboards, I try not to cause problems for the production. I draw storyboards by following the scenario and not try not to make it look complicated from a director’s point of view. For direction, I still want to put my personal touch.

Do you have one ideal when doing storyboard, direction, and animation supervision?

Wakabayashi: I do; I cannot do it without a schedule. I can’t pull it off if I don’t get three months. Although such an ideal is impossible with a normal TV series, right? Because a company like Pierrot is generous enough to allow such a method, I think I was able to pull it off.

As you imply, there was no separate schedule for your team or special budget put aside or early draft scripts as other people assumed.

Wakabayashi: There was no such thing. It was just like all the others. About the script, other episodes were already written in advance. Since they’re based from manga, so they’re already written ahead of time. Other people were also under the same situation. It’s just that other people were already working on prior episodes, so that’s why the scenario was in dormancy for a long time. (Translator note: Wakabayashi is implying that he had early start with episode 30.)

Earlier you’ve said that episode 30 was dumped on you by director, however you chose episode 71 and 133 on your own?

Wakabayashi: That’s right. I thought only I can do them myself and I asked to him to let me work on them. Actually, I told him that I also wanted to do the Naruto vs Orochimaru fight, but I was working on the pilot of Guin Saga, so my schedule didn’t allow it. I was thinking of making that sequence as a final finishing touch. But I now I regret that I couldn’t do it.

Do you think you might get another chance to work on “Naruto” in the future?

Wakabayashi: Only if Naruto continues on after the Guin Saga is over. Because I absolutely have not given up on Naruto yet.

[magicratfingers]

Progress report ! ૮ ºﻌºა ✨ kind of a work-in-progress diary for myself. v indulgent.

intense world of dick terrifying - goin good! got a main character, some supporting characters, figuring out the big rivalry today. Gotta figure out a format. I was thinking of basing it off of the Day at the Airport book bc it's only about 11 spreads but there's a lot going on on each one. Could leave it a comic but I also want it to be printable hmm catnips cantrips chooseyer-by-mail test - learning a lot! the world-building has been reallllllly fun - like the kind of fun where you want to go a little deeper bc you like it not bc you have to. perfect situation. Gotta resolve the mix between the DM roleplay and the actual postcards. Made and branded a whole gmail account and character to handle lost postcards - Pizza Kentucky III of the Isekai Post Office. Haven't been keeping up with the blog. But the blog is supposed to be more of a holding container than a 'thing'. One thing I did not expect to be learning was spreadsheets. Keeping track of names and addresses and choices and paths has given me a new perspective on pacing and structure. Also? Been a great excuse to finally play with UV epoxy and it's so straightforward that I'm mad it took me so long. media thats not just webcomics - dunmeshi is out!!! Laios my beloved. Still afraid to find and read Kotteri's Veil bc it will make me too feelings. Started reading books I loved as a kid (Redwall!!!) and some story craft books (found an NPR list somewhere) WRHP s2 - started to feel like work but changing up the backgrounds freed me up, feels fun again Sorcerer comic - paused while I wait for fashion inspiration to pull the ending together Emotional support paladin - paused till I feel like it. It's got such a specific delivery style that I don't wanna force to get the story out, so i gotta wait for some story aspects to firm up Bonnie & Clawd - more of a character study than a comic - fun to practice cutie pies cuddling. But... how DO birds and wolves smooch. Saw a youtube video about how ravens and wolves are friends and work together. So perfect. Valentines day thing - got some supplies coming tomorrow, gonna try out my idea. If it works maybe sell it? If it doesn't work, oh well, probably will learn something. Wanted to make perforated cards and stickers but got a little overwhelmed thinking about printing. Might just do a digital thing if an idea comes to me. Been wanting to make holographic stickers but when I sit down to think of a motif it feels stressful. Maybe I just test the Poodle Broadcasting System logo? I've always loved the aesthetic of valentines day but never felt like it's been delivered right. I certainly never felt indulged - something is always a little not-cute or too-cutesy. Think it could be really fun to have it be an annual 'surprise box'. I lost my halloween fam in the schmivorce so I could use a holiday to go crazy on. (For years I would drive out and help build a whole haunted house in a garage and it was like a week-long party with great food and movies and laughs. Sad to lose it, sadder still to know it was so easy for them to lose me. ) Dishupon - ok not as many players and responses as I'd hoped. But that wasn't really the point. Point was to invent some sanrio-y characters for fun - which i did. And I will also say that the exercise of coming up with a variety of cozy, fun, silly, spicy ways to think about dishes has made MY dishes mostly effortless. Even made a little foam clay Tiger coach and he's sitting on the window above the sink. Perhaps I will think of a game to get my car inspection done.

Overall January is great. Granted, it's the 4th. Had my ten year work anniversary (idk how old everyone thinks I am but it's Not 20) and got to 1010 followers on twitter on the same day. And the new d20 is out on the 10th so that felt real nice and square. Bit worried that all the good vibes I built up over holiday vacay will get smashed when I'm put on a new work project. But i feel like I'm about to level up a little bit art-style wise. Feelin grateful, feelin warm & cozy

[ceruleanmusings]

Big Time Secrets - Lucy & Mason

going a little bit different with this one. the guys are involved peripherally but i wanted to give a better insight to their relationship with one of the girls on the show.

@partiallypearl @raging-violets

---------

Big Time Rush’s and Camille’s shouting faded down the hallway once they streamed out of Lucy’s apartment. Lucy and the Mason girls stared at the open doorway; bewilderment written all over their faces. Save for Jazz, who snickered while pulling the bowl of popcorn onto her lap.

“So…you knew they were figure skating the whole time?” Lucy asked, head slowly turning to face the giddy girl.

Jazz snorted, stuffing popcorn into her mouth. “Of course I knew.” She tossed a piece into the air and caught it with a triumphant smile.

“Why didn’t you say anything? Because of you, I had to deal with an axe-wielding maniac all day!”

“Because Knight asked me not to and I prefer that my boyfriend can trust me.” She tossed more popcorn into her mouth. A second later an explosion of popcorn flew around the room due to the pillow Lucy threw at her knocking the bowl out her hands. Unperturbed, Jazz’s smirk, if possible, got wider.

“I don’t see what’s so funny about it! They ruined my choreography!” Sammi said with a huff. Perched on the arm of the couch, she crossed her arms, thin bangles slid down to mid forearm. “Do you know how many hours I wasted for that showing? Camille at least kept her lines clean but Kendall; I swear, he forgot everything I taught him! I can’t put my name on that! No ma’am! Samantha Mason Does. Not. Lose!” The bangles on her arms and the hoops in her ears shook with the force of her ensuing clapping.

“And you thought Logan was bad?” Jazz asked, giving Sammi a look. Jerking her thumb in Sammi’s direction, she added, “Try having to deal with that every day for the last two weeks.” It all came out afterward that Sammi had Kendall and Camille’s skating instructor. While she was more adept at roller skating, she had figure skating for a few years in her youth before switching over. James, Logan, and Carlos didn’t take it too well when learning that both Sammi and Jazz kept the secret from them, yelling about breaking a “No Secrets Between Friend Groups” code.

Jazz threatened to break something of theirs in return and it wasn’t related to a code.

“Besides, this is kind of your fault,” Mel pointed out from where she was tucked in the corner of the couch. She dug her elbow into Sammi’s leg only to flinch when Sammi reached out and flicked her behind the ear.

“How’s this my fault?” Lucy asked.

“If you hadn’t brought up that game of secrets in the first place none of this would’ve happened,” she said. “Then I wouldn’t have had to deal with Gustavo and Aunt Kelly, the cookie monsters. Emphasis on monsters.” She patted her arms as she spoke, plumes of flour bursting and curling into the air. “We could’ve been writing The Guys’ last song but noooo, they needed to get more of those cookies. I was in the zone, too.”

“You really should’ve seen that coming though,” Sammi said from where she sat poised on the arm of the couch, one leg over the other, ankles crossed. “Remember Christmas ’00?” At Lucy’s raised eyebrow she explained, “She straight up stepped on Jazz and knocked Mel into a chair to get first dibs for our Christmas cookie swap.”

“Yeahhh, I got my first set of stitches that year,” Mel said, lifting the hem of her jeans. A crescent-moon like scar webbed around the curve of her kneecap. “Who knew a Barcalounger had so many sharp parts. I think Jazz still has her shoe print on her back, too.”

“Wow. And I thought the guys were crazy,” Lucy muttered beneath her breath, tucking her hair behind her ear. Then she shrugged in nonchalance. “But the cookie insanity thing wasn’t my fault. Besides, why didn’t you just ask Mickey to make them? It would’ve saved you the time.”

“Because she was busy going to camp,” Mel said. With a swing of her head, she turned an accusatory glance the silent sister’s way.

Sitting on the floor, Mickey’s head bent over a popsicle stick bird house. But with a tall ceiling and thin walls, it resembled more a little pavilion than a bird house. Silence stretching, she slowly looked up only to jump at the four pairs of eyes set on her. “What?” she asked.

“Well, unlike the rest of us, sounds like you had a fun day,” Lucy said.

Frowning, Mickey eyed the gleam in her eye. “It was okay.”

“Easy for you to say when you roasted marshmallows and had sack races and did arts and crafts,” Jazz said. She idly pulled a kernel out of her thick hair and popped it into her mouth.

“All you did all day was sit back and watch all this blow up. With popcorn,” Mickey pointed out.

“But I didn’t get marshmallows out of it.” Pressing her finger into Mickey’s forehead, she pushed her sister’s head backward with a poke. “Besides, you and James looked awfully cozy cuddled up on the floor.”

Lucy, Sammi, and Mel reacted all at once: “What!?” “Excuse me?” “Say what?”

“Back up.” Sammi held her hand in the air, as if pressing a large pause button. “I need context.”

Huffing, Mickey relayed the story: how James talked her into making gourmet corn dogs for an apology to Carlos, how he talked her into pretending to be Heather Fox’s agent on the phone to figure out where she was in town, and how he talked her into helping him and Carlos turn the Palm Woods into Camp Wonky Donkey and to play games with them in an effort to get Carlos and his camp crush back together. All because she had to abide by the “Don’t Break Carlos” Heart’ code.

Mel shook her head. “That’s crazy.”

“I know,” Mickey said.

“No, I meant that they went to a camp that’s actually named Camp Wonky Donkey,” Mel said with a snort. “Was Camp Lame taken?” She and Jazz snickered, reaching over the table to slap a high five.

“Anyway, in the end Heather ended up writing a note to tell James she liked him and not Carlos which was…eh.” She made a face and waved her hand, batting away the thought and the returning annoyance of reliving witnessing the moment. “And then Lucy ran up and you know what happened.”

“Which reminds me…” Lucy’s words stretched out as a sly smile came to her face. “You never told us what your secret is.”

Mickey blinked. “Huh?”

“Everyone’s been spilling or keeping or trying to crack secrets all day. The ice skating, the cookies, the camp thing, sneaking around. You’re the only one who hasn’t said anything. So out with it.” Leaning forward, she sat nearly nose to nose with Mickey while wiggling her eyebrows. “What’s your secret?”

“I don’t…” Mickey gulped, forcing the lump in her throat down. “I don’t have one.” How did this suddenly become about her? She’d been doing nothing but minding her own business.

Leaning back, Lucy rolled her eyes. “Everybody has one.”

“What’s yours?” Mickey asked, irritating sparking inside her. That felt too familiar.

Lucy laughed. “Oh, I don’t keep secrets. There’s no point. Besides, everything you need to know about me you’ll find in my music.” Her head tilted to the music equipment spread around the room, from the piano, to the various microphones, to the range of acoustic and electric guitars leaning against one another.

“That’s a bit of a cop out don’t you think?”

“Don’t change the subject. C’mon, Mick, what’s your secret?”

Thundering footsteps and thumps on the wall grew. Mickey sighed. Saved by the bell! Shouts and grunts accompanied the rolling thunder, with a loud whooping leading the way. One wouldn’t be wrong for assuming a train had somehow made its way through the halls of the Palm Woods but it, in fact, was just the boys and Camille running along the floor for another lap chasing Carlos around. They looked worse for wear this time around, with Logan having to carry Kendall along on his back instead of letting him hop around on his foot. He used one of his crutches as an extension to poke at Carlos. James looked as if he’d been through a shredder, his clothes hanging off him in tatters, and Camille came up last, dragging her leg behind her with her once free hand stuffed in a vase.

Lucy pointed at the empty doorway. “How…?”

“It’s best not to ask,” Sammi said with a wave of her hand. “You’ll never get a good answer.” Releasing a long sigh, she slapped her hands on her knees and got off the couch. “Let’s go help them.”

“Why?” Jazz and Mel wore identical confused expressions, noses wrinkled. Mickey suspected half of it was due to, for once, not being involved in their issues and the other half was due to Sammi being the one to suggest helping them. She tended to stay away from their “white boy shenanigans” as much as possible. Unless she found a way to get something out of it, anyway.

“Yeah, I really don’t want to be dragged into anything else today,” Lucy added.

“You can’t be dragged into something you set in motion. And it’s the ‘I Will Take Responsibility for My Actions’ code,” Sammi shot back.

“Oh my gooodddd!” Lucy’s head tilted back at her exasperated exclamation. “Fine! But after this, I’m making my own code. It’s the ‘No One Makes Binding Codes Ever Again’ code!”

“Orrrr!” Jazz popped out of the chair, eyes lighting. “We can make a bet with Mr. Bitters that he’s the one who has to clean up everything they destroy.”

“I like that one better,” Mel said with a wicked grin.

Their bundle of friends moved past the door again, this time with Carlos struggling to run with Camille grabbing his ankle and James holding him in a headlock. Logan, now running much slower and panting, pulled up the rear with Kendall still on his back. Sammi, Mel, and Jazz hurried out the room after them. Mickey started to follow but Lucy stopped her, standing in the doorway.

“You don’t exactly like me, do you?” Lucy crossed her arms and tilted her head to the side, scrutinizing Mickey through squinted eyes. “That’s your secret, right?”

Figures Lucy wouldn’t let her off the hook. Still, the accusation had her heart drop and all the saliva get sucked out her mouth. Her eyes darted around, looking for an exit, but Lucy had her cornered on her own turf. “It’s not…that. Well, not exactly…” She fiddled with the hem of her bright yellow Camp Wonky Donkey t-shirt.

“Thennnn what?” An elongated squeaking sound came out of Mickey’s mouth as she struggled to find the words. Lucy, despite looking amused, rolled her eyes. “Don’t act all innocent now. I can handle it.”

She probably could. Very little seemed to faze her and maybe that was the problem. That her choices and actions didn’t seem to bother her, no matter how much they messed with someone else. Did she not care? Mickey looked just past Lucy’s head when she spoke, voice quiet but firm, “I don’t particularly like that you mess with my friends’ feelings.” Lucy moved to reply but Mickey kept on, her words building atop of one another, nearly colliding in her haste. “None of this would’ve gone on if you didn’t purposely bring up a game that would cause…this.” She gesticulated wildly around the room.

“I didn’t know it would cause this.” Lucy mimicked her gesticulation. “Trust me. You didn’t deal with Logan. No one would willingly want to.”

“It’s the guys,” Mickey said, exasperated, as if the two words held all the explanation in the world. (Which they did.) “They can’t play a video game without getting into some sort of death match. Getting them to spill secrets about the horrible things they’ve done to one another? That’s not opening a can of worms, that’s throwing a grenade on it. And you pulled the pin.”

“It was just a game.”

“It’s…it’s not fair to others to have them messed with for the sake of someone else’s entertainment. Feelings aren’t a game.” Not to me.

The longer Lucy stared at her, the more Mickey’s skin prickled and itched. Right when she felt ready to jump out of it, or form some sort of apology for something she probably didn’t need to apologize for, Lucy slowly nodded her head. “Alright. Fine. I get it. You may have a point. For the record, I was just—”

“Trying to make things interesting?” Mickey asked wryly.

“No. well, yeah, but no. I was just…trying to make…friends? Small talk and all that stuff…” She made a retching noise and Mickey nodded. Boy, did she understand that. She and small talk were mortal enemies. The accompanying awkwardness could kick rocks as well. “I’m still new and the guys are…well, the guys. And Camille’s great but kind of…all over the place? So I thought if we could get to, well, the good stuff first it’d make being new…easier.” Mickey stared. Lucy Stone was…unsure? She’d come in with such an aura around her, shaking up the guys’ worlds so bad, it was hard to grasp that even she had been worried about something as normal as making new friends. Mickey bit her lip. Maybe she’d been too hard on her? With a loose shrug, Lucy went to leave only to stop and lean back in the doorway. “Oh, and don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me!”

Even with the smile Lucy flashed at her, Mickey’s stomach turned at the following wink.

That secret was easy to keep and, maybe it wouldn’t be true after some time.

But if Lucy ever found out her real one, the one she was just coming to grips that existed, she wasn’t so sure that one could be kept quiet.

[einsteinsugly]

2006. A Dead Father, a Living Son.

Mistakes, mistakes.

That's all he sees, etched in red pen. It's a mindless blur, a kaleidoscope of colors, as he lowers his joint.

Oh, crumpled bits of paper

Filled with imperfect thought

Stilted conversations

I'm afraid that's all we've got

Some remnant of a teacher joke remains at the tip of his tongue, but he sputters. "Maybe I should start using a green pen."

"Dad, you aren't editing the eulogy with red pen, are you?" A beam of light firmly breaks his hellish reverie, eying a printed page littered with red marks. Little red flags, dancing on the page. "Come on."

"I don't think I'm ready." Eric mindlessly gazes at the antsy redhead, the youngest of the bunch, with his jaded green eyes. "Do I have to wear a tie?"

Leah shrugs, her eyes a sharp kaleidoscope of green and blue. "Whatever makes you more comfortable."

"Okay." He unravels his tie, flinging it into a seemingly dark abyss. Only for Leah to swoop in and catch it, with a sassy smirk. "I feel a little bit better."

Leah playfully drapes the tie around her neck, like she's Avril Lavigne. An awkward, feeble attempt to lighten the mood, but she sadly sighs. "Only a little bit?"

"...Yeah." He twirls a red pen with one hand, and attempts to twirl a green pen with the other. Only for the green pen to fall to the floor. "I think your mom would be way better at this."

Leah rolls her blue-green eyes, nearly to the back of her head. As a voice of reason, she picks up the pieces, and sets the green pen back on his desk. "You'd be way better at this, if you weren't as high as a kite."

"Hey, I'm only high enough to keep myself from going crazy." Like mother, like daughter. "You should get your mom to yell at me, too."

So say it loud, say it clear (oh say it clear)

You can listen as well as you hear

Because it's too late, it's too late (it's too late)

When we die (oh, when we die)

To admit we don't see eye to eye

"You should turn that damn song off," She amply suggests, "It's kind of a Debbie downer."

"This song speaks to me," He dramatically defends, "It always reminds me of me and Dad. Kind of like how that Robert Munsch book reminds me of me and Mom. But that's way more pleasant."

Leah nods, the story firmly etched into her memory. "I'll love you forever, I'll like you for always. As long as I'm living, my baby you'll be?"

"See, but she's still living." A new reality is rearing its ugly head, and he tentatively pushes past a sea of denial. While balling his tepid fists. "I tried to talk to Dad during his living years, but...it always got complicated. We didn't really see eye to eye on anything."

"How about a sense of honor and duty?" Leah offers an awkward olive branch, patting her bewildered father on the shoulder. "Even though it was honor and duty for different things."

"He never liked the different things." An angry, nervous haze refuses to clear, as he speaks his heartfelt truth. "I was never enough of a man, even when I stood up for myself, because he didn't like what I stood for. Not for war, but for peace and love. Hippie things."

Bullets and books are very, very different entities. They're both tools, but one ends a life, and the other? Is a stepping stone, to many, many promising things.

"You just chose to fight different battles, and that's totally okay."

A kaleidoscope of memories flood his mind, a sea of valiant attempts and numerous failures, and he's firmly jaded. As the world keeps on churning, with or without him.

I couldn't make a difference, and Dad couldn't, either. "I think I lost them, just like he lost his."

[scales-n-art]

What advice do you have for someone hoping to start making money with art? I'm new to everything so building an audience and engaging with them feels like me shooting in the dark, let alone getting them to request commissions or join a Patreon!

Hi there!

I think you have the biggest part of it already figured out tbh. If you're aiming for it to be a side hustle kind of thing, then building an audience is definitely one of the best ways to go about it if you wanna stick to online. The way it's been for me, it's all been through fandoms and niche art. I drew a ton of fanart for Shadowhunters back in 2017, but it wasn't until I got into making fanart for Attack on Titan (mostly merfolk AU stuff) in 2018 that I really became more "visible" as an artist. Back in 2017 I had some commissioners, but from 2018 onwards is how I truly became a full time artist.

There's people who have the fortune of making it big with their own original art from the very beginning, and that's wonderful. But it's not something I can give you advice on, because I haven't figured that out myself, and it's not how I got here either. I know it's possible, however, so that's definitely always an option too.

As frustrating as it is, I think there's no real way around it. You need an audience who's interested in what you have to share, and a lot of it can become making art that caters to what your audience is interested in. So be very careful with how you go about it. I'd say just draw what YOU like, what YOU want to see. Most likely, there are others out there who want to see the same thing too. Algorithms online make it harder for people to find you, and it's very tiresome to adapt to them, but there's no way around it except keep pushing, keep trying, follow other artists, make friends with them. Comment on art, share art, join discord servers, talk with people. Interaction will take you a long way in this circle!

If you're not afraid of taking your art outside of the online market, there's always conventions, exhibitions and bazaars/markets in most cities, where you can take prints, stickers and other merch with your creations. They also work wonderfully as contact makers. You'll get to meet other artists in your area, and they can help spread word about your work, and you can do the same for them, aside from directly putting your work literally out there for people to see.

If you want advice on how to become a professional artist, getting studio jobs and such, I'm definitely not the right person to ask. I have no experience on that other than applying and getting rejected or "saved for later". Not that I've tried much tbh, I've been ok enough with freelance work.

I've worked mostly on commissions for individuals who just want a specific piece of their favorite character, and I've also worked on commissions for self publishing authors and one major awarded, published author in my country as well. All of it, just because I started an askblog about Merman!Levi when I was bored, depressed, and going through Big Shit irl. So an art journey can have many crazy looks.

I'm not sure how helpful this will be, because I'm honestly not the best example of How To become An Artist. I've had so many ups and downs, currently going through a major down. And the only thing consistent about my journey, is that I haven't given up. So I guess that has to mean something, as cheesy as it may sound.

I wish you the best on the journey though ❤️

[kindaoptimisticsquirrel]

Trigun Bookclub Trimax Vol1 Part 2

Vol01: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3  | Vol02: Part 1 | Part 2 

Trimax: Vol01 Part 1

Aaand the second part for Trimax Vol1!

Oh yeah we’re starting with a beautiful page right away. Look I don’t know how he does it but Nightow has sooo many pages throughout the manga that alone could be amazing prints in itself that really show just how good an artist he is. It looks like a relatively simple page, but even with such simple things as some clouds, the earth and the falling rockets, you have to consider how to arrange it. Look at that beautiful distribution of black space, the clouds kinda splitting the image in half, but the earth is a bit below, so like 1/4 of the whole page. And the middle rocket being just a bit closer to the right one, so the distance between these is not so even and boring.

Knives really doesn’t get it, why Vash is angry, does he...It’s crazy that he is so much up in his head that he cannot understand why the killing of so many people including Rem could make Vash upset.

Also uuuh you don’t kick your brother like that. Man, Vash really lost everything on that day, even the one person that survived and which he thought was his family, the only person that could have understood him.

The beginning of the nickname™ ! Vash questions it one time and then he just got used to it :D

Nightow likes to tilt the angles in his panels really really often! I don’t think that it’s always a deliberate choice to make a specific scene more dynamic but that it’s just reflex when he makes the storyboard, adding a little tilt here and there. Hehe noting this for myself, too. I used to be pretty wild with my panel shapes and the contents because I read and drew lots of Manga. In class I got the feedback to tone that down a bit, and rather make the content be dynamic instead of the panel shapes, which is why now I’m being very non-exaggerative Now, seeing this, I think I want to consider being just a bit more loose with panels and angles and stuff. You want to keep the real flashy stuff for the most action-based scenes but adding a little spice here and there could be nice! (Though I guess that also depends on the kind of comic you’re making)

My non-attentive ass just noticed now that there are different kinds of sand steamer. That’s actually pretty cool!

I like that sometimes we don’t see the mouth and full expression of the characters, like here with Vash. It just adds to his expression and his inner feelings, which we can only speculate about.

OOOOH noo you’re not a monster D: D: He looks so..devastated. All he wants is to be friends with humans, to live a nice life, and then people view him as a monster and it visibly hurts him and the worst part is, he’s probably thinking the same thing, agreeing with them.

Finally I get what the deal with this guy is here! It always slipped past me that he’s being used. 

Oh and this page here, huh. We can really sympthasize with the dad here, like yeah I can definitely get that motivation. There are SO many heavy themes in this manga, so many conflicts, and SO convincingly portrayed...oof.

This concludes my reread of Trimax1!

[pbandjesse]

My lips are very dry and I think I am dehydrated. Because I've been talking for the last couple hours. Yapping you could say. And I just had such a lovely day that started so unbelievably stressfully that you would not believe it.

I slept okay last night. I felt really nauseous right before we went to bed but me and James stayed up a little bit later together and I would drink some more water and felt slightly more normal. And I didn't wake up much even though James said that sweetie was committing Kitty crimes all night. There was evidence. Stuff all over the ground that he pulled down. But I woke up with my alarm and felt pretty good. I even gave myself a extra 10 minutes. When I woke up it was drizzling but not raining too hard yet. I still have the coastal advisory of my phone so I would prepared and I wore my new rain boots which were very comfortable. I also packed my dock sandals and an extra pair of socks and my eyeliner and a sweater because I would be working at the museum tonight and I wanted to look nice. And James waited for me but they probably shouldn't because they would end up getting soaked on their bike ride and I felt so bad. I should have just driven them to work but they said no. I'm so sorry that they got that though I feel so bad about it.

My drive to work though was very scary. It was raining buckets at points to the point that I couldn't see. And people were driving crazy pants. And we had to go super slow at times and it was just not a pleasant drive to work. But I made it just a couple minutes after 8:00 and I was doing okay.

I knew that we didn't really have to be there till 9:30 so I had some time to work on my research for the shield designs and eat my breakfast and just kind of enjoy the morning. And that's what I did for about 40 minutes. Around 9:00 I saw a car coming up and I just assumed it was Sarah. And then I saw someone come up on the porch and I just assumed it was Sarah. And then that person knocked on the window and it was a man. And I open the door and I'm like hello. And they're like hey I'm here for the field trip. I was like excuse me. Because the field trip we had today doesn't have parents so what are you talking about. And it turns out that one of my Native American field trips was actually scheduled for today when I thought it was on the 26th.

This was so incredibly stressful. I thought I was going to throw up for about an hour. I told him oh my God I didn't know you're coming today but that is okay we're going to make this work I just need your help. And so me and him jumped on the gator together. I called Elizabeth and she told me to lean on the other staff. And as soon as Sarah and Rachel came in I sent them off to do things for me and Nick would come in and help me as well. They got the hacienda set up and would go and grab stuff from the lunch for me while I was running around like a crazy person.

Me and the dad drove the gator over to tools and dwellings at the Pueblo and I asked something about the schedule that I had printed and he was like oh no this isn't right It's only Three groups not five. Not even four. And I was like wait how many kids does this group have but I didn't ask that follow up question and that was my mistake. Because he ended up being wrong and it was four groups. And the original original schedule I had was actually correct and everything was fine. I got him set up and Sarah brought the rest of my materials up to the hacienda and of course the school was exactly on time at 9:45. And I was like on the verge of losing it. Thankfully all of my volunteer parents had shown up a few minutes after I got back from printing the schedule and I was able to walk them all to their sites and get them acclimated but most of them had already been here apparently from 2019 so I didn't have to worry too much and they all were honestly some of the best parents I've had in a very long time. Like most of my parents are great but these parents that we had were so good that like they could probably do it as a job. Like they were doing songs and dancing and just really filling the 35 minutes and I was just thrilled.

I had to catch my breath but once the bus got there I ran down and I chatted with them for a second just to get everyone on the same page and we got inside and I jumped right into it. And my intro was good but not as detailed and I didn't ask as many questions cuz I was a little overwhelmed. And one of the problems with being in the hacienda is that the one toilet is broken right now and just continuously flushes and it's kind of loud. And I felt really bad about it cuz there's nothing I can do about it It just keeps flushing. And I had to tell them like hey I know this sounds really scary but like I'll hurt you I promise.

And the intro went good and then we were able to jump into fibers and I timed it really well because I was worried when I finished my intro early but then I was going to have too much time and fibers wouldn't take as long but we ended up finishing fibers with enough time to then break into our groups and just kind of move slowly and it was like totally chill. And I remember this teacher from years past and she is great even though she frowns constantly and I think she's mad at me but she's not she keeps telling me how much she loves me. Honestly a bunch of the parents were on the walkie talkies today telling me how much they left me and how great they thought I was and that just made me feel really good.

I had a lot of moments today where people were just being really nice to me. I don't know if I just looked like I needed it but everyone was complimenting me and tell me how pretty I was. And I was just feeling good. And I got to be really good at my job and I love that.

The field trip itself was great. I seriously think I walked about 40,000 steps today though the way my body aches and I was making so many loops. I was just bopping from one site to the next and checking things out and while I was doing that I was also flipping rocks I did not find any good critters. But I did find witches butter twice. And that was very exciting for me because that's my favorite mushroom right now. And I ended up having some really lovely conversations with chaperone parents including one who offered to be on the lookout for me for supplies because she's a professional organizer and she comes across stuff all the time that people are getting rid of and she would love to have someone that she could contact about getting it and I am a hoarder pack rat when it comes to supplies. So that could be a lovely little friendship.

It was getting warmer and I was having a really nice day even though I was a little exhausted. And after lunch I would spend most of the last hour of my field trip wandering around lower camp photographing the shields. Would you like to guess how many shields there are down there? Because it's 92. So I found all of the signs that I could and hopefully did not miss any or many. I still have to do upper camp but Elizabeth doesn't think there's very many up there so we're not that worried about it. But I will be able to start my research and organization of the shields and that's really exciting for me because I love having a little project and this is one that I think will be really beneficial in the long term.

While I was walking around doing that I was also answering the walkie and doing my job. One of our kids had an allergy attack I felt really bad because they weren't allowed to give him allergy medication but his eyeball swelled all up. So we got him to wash his face and we just hope that the fresh air would help.

While I was wandering around I also was going through the field where the other group was having their field trip that I was supposed to be a part of. It was our last end to go group and they were great but oh my God. We warned them that the Gaga pit was muddy. But Gabe decided that it was okay and these kids were So absolutely covered. Just head to toe soaked in mud. And I sat down for a second to organize my folder of photographs and a little girl came and sat next to me and she was coded just tow to hip. And she had splashes all over her face and she just pouting and she goes My mom's going to be mad at me. And I said yeah probably but thankfully you're washable. And then I told her she had mud inside her ear and she said oh no We had a very good little laugh about it. This was a very sweet group and I really hope they had a good day and I hope their parents are prepared for how messy their kids were going to come home.

At the end of my program Elizabeth called me to ask how I clean up the printmaking stuff which I now realize I forgot to grab but that is not a big deal. I can get that next week. And after that I went to the hacienda to wait for my group to be done. When everybody came I would do some questions and went over stuff and all of them seem like they learned a ton and that was really cool. I had them say thank you to the chaperones and volunteers. And then I said goodbye.

I spent the next hour cleaning the hacienda. And it was kind of hard to do it by myself. I hate having to put away the chairs and the tables and sweep. But I did it it just took a while. And while I was there a contractor came up to the end of a measure stuff and I didn't know who it was. So eventually I introduce myself and he asked about going downstairs to measure the bottom half of the building so I had to go to the office to get pool key and then I came back and finished sweeping. And I was going to get the gator to get the rest of my materials but Chloe had the key and I wasn't about to walk to the other side of camp to get it so I just used our car and I loaded it up. I put the staffs hanging out of our window because they are too tall. And it didn't take that long so it was totally fine. I drove down to the woodlands to double check commission The fire was good and then all the materials were put away nicely and then I went back up to the office. I checked in. And I let everybody know I was going home. Well not home but I was getting out of there.

Blue was laughing at me for beep bopping around all day and how I better be getting my steps counted but I am not actively wearing a pedometer right now. I'm going to have to get a battery for my Pikachu one again. I'm not sure if it's working but we will have to see. I would like to wear that this summer so that is definitely something for me to look into.

But it was time for me to go. I had to get something to eat before working at the museum tonight. I drove over to cockeysville and went to Wawa and while I was waiting for my sandwich the girl making the sandwich asked me if I knew how pretty I was. I was like what??. And she was like you're beautiful. And I was like thank you that's so nice. It relief just made my day.

I ate my sandwich in the car. And I watched a video about someone I did not care about and thought was kind of a horrible person. Just some YouTuber who apparently was very famous that recently died that I did not care about but apparently it was very controversial. And kind of terrible. And then I headed to work. I wanted to get there early so me and James could see each other for a few minutes. And when I got there James's backpack was sitting outside in the parking lot. I went inside and I was like James that's not safe this is why people with rob you all the time. Which is facetious I know. But still. Don't leave things sitting unattended.

James would leave to come home to meet their dad to go to the baseball game. And I had a lovely night at the museum. The other Jesse is so much fun. Like really I think we could be very good friends because he's so funny and he gets my humor but like in a dead pant sort of way and that's really nice. And I had a great time just goofing around for the first hour. Talk into the catering staff going through drawers and just having a good time. Chatting with the security guard. Who I eventually made the security guard and Jesse take a photo with photo with me. Because I thought it would be funny and I was correct. And it was just a lot of fun because it was a charity event. And it looked beautiful. They did such a good job.

I wouldn't have that many people come back but the ones I did were really lovely. And they said I was so good at my job and so informative. And they all had very good like follow-up questions and conversation. I got to turn on the museums machines and eventually I was making a loop around to the pharmacy just to see if anyone was in there and I saw that the garment loft was open. So I went and checked with Jesse if it was supposed to be and it wasn't but we decided it wasn't worth arguing over and I went in and gave a talk in there too and a couple of the same people from before came but some extras did as well and it was just so nice. Like I got to tell my stories and people were really interested and giving great facial expressions. And I got to talk about other stuff like art and travel and just how much I love living here. My husband. Everyone got a big laugh because I was wearing James's name tag tonight and they're like you don't look like a James. And I just love working at the museum.

While I was there I also got an email from Jessica and she offered me the education positions for the events for May because there was only three of them and I can take two of those three and I'm really excited about that. I hope that we get back in that habit because I want all of the events but I know that's not always fair. And also I can't actually do all of them because I'm very busy. But I'm really excited to do more because I really really enjoy that part of the job.

I left after chasing Jesse around so that we could take a photo booth photo. And I just got home. It's getting really windy. I'm not sure when the game is over I think it's about halfway done now. But I'm going to go inside and I'm going to get ready to chill out. Tomorrow I have no plans I'm hoping to do some house stuff. And then on Sunday I have some photos I need to do and some work for some upcoming stuff and then on Monday I also have nothing and it's great. This is just going to be like a nice little relaxing getting ready to go on our trip weekend. I might even pack. We'll see.

I hope that you all have a great night and you are taking care of yourself. Stay safe and rest. I love you all.

[illadvisedselfships]

Oh you're feeling sick? I'm so sorry. Get plenty of rest and warm food! ^^

If it'll make you feel better, here's a thought; imagine how Otis, Cruella, and Jim feel about Callahan, and vice versa (we already did the trio's thoughts on each other; now that a new F/O has been brought in, we must christen him XD)

Yeah, unfortunately children are full of disease 😅 I'll probably be like this for the next year but then I'll have built up immunity! ^^

AHHH yay! Here we go XDD

Cruella: Oooh well Cruella doesn't like anyone XD (Except Anita and maybe her furriers like Mr Skinner and Le Pelt- but even they are on thin ice as shown 😅), especially men, BUT Callahan is a rung up from where Jim and Otis sit at least XD They're derelicts XD 😅😅 Callahan on the other hand has a taste for the finer things ^^ He has money (He runs a billion dollar law firm). And *cough* she could honestly use his services. His agreeability to work with clearly guilty persons for the right payment is also a bonus.

Callahan can appreciate Cruella and her company (Especially in comparison to the other 2), including most importantly her money and finer tastes 😅😅😅 She is also excellent at sniffing out the blood in the water, too, so she's kind of on his level. 'Respect' may be going too far... but yeah, he has a a certain appreciation for her.

Jim: Again like Cruella- he could use a good lawyer XD How Jim's gonna pay him though I do not know. But I can totally imagine Jim with the most corrupt, sleazy lawyer ever like Callahan XD Maybe he pays him sort of under the table?? With moonshine? Drugs? A promise of a BIG payout once he gets off these charges and can get some other very illegal poaching gig? Perhaps working for Cruella.

Callahan completely underestimates Jim at the start. He thinks he's a goofy, uneducated, lily-livered geriatric alcoholic and that he can screw the poor bastard into a bad plea deal or settlement something- so Callahan can be done with another case in record time. BUT as we know Jim is not an idiot. Callahan is pleasantly surprised.

Otis: Oh boy. Callahan is everything in typical mainstream society that Otis does not vibe with 😅 He's got money, he works a nine-to-five, he gets the same run-of-the-mill 70 dollar haircut every month and he shaves every single day, etc. He's part of the 'conformist world' Otis hates. At least Cruella has her values, which may be crazy but she sticks to them, and at least Jim is not afraid to get his hands dirty (Metaphorically and literally). Callahan though is a cookie cutter stereotype, and he's two-faced, and he puts a bad taste in Otis' mouth. Callahan is lucky he still has his skin (no need to thank me Cal 🤣).

Callahan seriously looks down on Otis 😅 I don't know where on earth he gets the balls of steel, but he does.

~ Under the cut I wrote a little excerpt with the 3 of them (Mostly Callahan and Jim)... I couldn't help myself! 😅 ~

"Please Aaron," I beg, phone to my ear as I wonder slowly around the room, a pair of blue eyes on me from the couch; a printed DUI notice in his hand son his lap. Callahan's groan on the other end of the phone does not deter me. "You just need to represent him for an hour- less! Its not a biggie, its just... a little drinking and driving. He promises to never, ever do it again!"

Glancing over at Jim I see him scoff, shake his head and chuckle, and I wince. Well, that's a lie, but Callahan doesn't need to kno-

"Sure he wont. How many offences does he have? Uh... " I can practically see him holding his glasses higher up the bridge of his nose as he reads Jim's file that I subtly left on his desk earlier. "Forty five? How is this man not in prison?"

"A really good lawyer."

"Great, get him to handle this!"

"He-... he's on vacation." No need to reveal that we went to the 98-year-old lawyer's funeral a month ago. "-Look Cal, he will get you the money for this, he just needs some time. And the court date is Monday." While Callahan sits silent on his end I glance past Jim to some crates behind the couch and get an idea. "In- in the meantime, um, have you ever tried homemade moonshine?"

Jim immediately frowns. "Hold on now- "

Finally Callahan sighs deeply through the phone and I think I've got him, he probably doesn't want homemade moonshine but I think - I hope, - I made it clear I wasn't going to quit bothering him until he helped. He got Cruella off reckless driving!! Of course, he couldn't get off the animal cruelty charges, and now I only get to visit her through bars until our marriage licence comes through,.. but Jim does not have any animal cruelty charges... well, none pending at the moment at least... So this should be a snap for Callahan! No?? I stop moving around the room and root myself to the spot; listening carefully.

"Fine... but I don't want his money. For all I know it'll come from a goddamn mafia. And I don't want Cruella's, either, so don't even think about it."

"... well, I have some money saved up and- " My eyes wander over to Jim, his face going dark, glowering; he shakes head slowly. No. "He can pay me back- "

"How about you pay me another way?" My eyes snap away from Jim like a shot, and I look to the ground. What was that??

Voice lowered and much smaller, I cross my non-phone holding arm over my stomach. Um- "... what's this now?"

I can hear the smirk in Callahan's voice, the sound lower and huskier even than usual. My ears are getting hot. "You know what I mean."

Is he truly suggesting what I presume he is suggesting right now?? I mean- I'm not exclusive with anyone and everyone is g o o d with that but damn this sure is awkward. "I- "

"Look, that's my offer. You come stay with me for 2 weeks, do... whatever I ask," Oh, he's playing coy and vague. What's even the point of that at this point? Lord almighty- "And I'll get Jim off the charges."

"... " After some thought, and a glance at the crumpled DUI notice in Jim's hands, I huff out a sigh and close my eyes in embarassment. Will these people never tire of mortifying me?? Silly question, they wont- "Fineee... "

"Great! I'll send a car. See you soon, sweetheart."

"Uhuh." *click*

... For a moment I remain rooted to the spot, phone still at my ear, before gradually lowering it, tucking it into the back of my jeans and opening my eyes. Slowly I make my way over to the couch and flop down next to Jim, hanging my head on the back of the cushions. I close my eyes again and throw an arm over my eyes in defeat.

Its not like I don't want to see Callahan- I do, always, its just-... I feel bamboozled.

"... You're not paying for my bill, sugar."

"No, no." I sigh, assuring the one next to me. "We settled on a... different, payment plan."

"What do you- " When Jim sounds lost, I straighten up slightly, remove my arm from my face and open my eyes to give him an urging look. You get it. You can figure it out. Its to do with... yes, there it is. There you go. His eyebrows go up and his mouth opens. "Ah... "

"Yes." I grin, despite myself; shaking my head and straightening up the rest of the way.

A wry, teasing grin curls across his face. "... you sure are sweet."

"Don't you forget it."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

Finally grinning for real, I get up again and check the time on my phone. "Okay, car's gonna be here in about an hour. If you get dinner for us now I'll go and find out what Otis has been doing in the bathroom all day."

Jim scoffs, getting up after me. "You gotta deal, there, sweetheart."

[ederlot]

Dinner with Jackson

I was quite the loser once. I had never been very popular. I knew a lot of people, but only had two friends. Very good friends they had become over the years. The kind of friends who you could wake up at night. Not that I had ever used that knowledge, but if necessary it was possible. I knew that for sure. I didn't need more friends either, or so I thought at the time. I was not very active on social media. I did have a Facebook and an Instagram, but that was more because everyone else had them. I never felt the need to have a lot of followers, so that I could say I had a lot of friends. I think I'm way too down-to-earth to call people I've never met in real life 'friends'. Or too old. I remember the time when we used to go to a café to meet each other, relax and do crazy things. But that was quite some time ago. I have done many studies. From psychology and cultural sciences to electrical engineering and nutrition, but I had not completed any. They were all boring and not really what I was looking for. What was I looking for? I still wouldn't know. My search led to various jobs and eventually I ended up in the office of a large transport company. Also boring, the work, but the people were quite nice. Very multicultural. The conversations often went nowhere (if I understood them at all) and I didn't really have a strong bond with anyone, but there was a lot of laughter.

With a pounding head full of thoughts, I stared at the small print on the screen. Basically I was staring through the screen (the work was really boring). Slowly I started filling the input fields with requested information. Today's hundredth order. I almost met my quota. Luckily it was almost time to go home. The sun shone brightly outside. I almost melted while smoking during the breaks. Not just me. The Arab colleagues, who were used to more heat, also found it unpleasant when it was so hot outside. That's the disadvantage of here, either it's cold and wet, or it's suddenly way too hot. The wind didn't bring any relief either, if there was any. On days like this the wind was like a hairdryer. Every breeze was warm and dry. Sigh! That last order was finished. Of course I could have done more before it was 5 o'clock, but I didn't. They immediately expected me to do more orders every day. That's how it worked at the company. There were those show-offs who always did more than necessary. But they were called to the lead if they suddenly did less, but were still above 100. I got a cup of hot chocolate from the vending machine just to kill another minute. As always, I spent the rest of my time looking interestingly through my notebook, as if I were working on a very difficult order. Some thought the work really interested me. In the beginning I did, but after two years of continuously doing the same thing and running into walls when I had an improvement proposal, the fun was really hard to find. It paid quite well, especially if I had to work in the evenings with all the shift allowances. And there was regular overtime. I didn't have much to do at home, so I was always allowed to come back if there was a lot of work. That made me a bit popular. At least with the shift lead.

I always thought I came from a warm family. Until a while ago I was doing a bit less financially. Then I discovered I had to figure it all out for myself and learned that you only really got to know people when you were in a difficult situation. There are some life lessons you don't actually want to learn, but they are thrown into your lap for free. Fortunately, I was able to start at the transport company after a period of unemployment. However, the bond with my family is no longer as strong as before. I think for them it is, because they treat me like they used to. However, I find it difficult to forgive them for their absence when I needed them most. I had a nice car. I had to sell it to pay my mortgage. That's why I was now on a bicycle in the killing heat. Air conditioning would be nice. I even took a boy from the streets into my house so that we could share the costs. His name was Jackson, a black guy who wanted to take all his friends into my home as well. Or so it seemed. He came from a special project of the municipality. Well… I had trouble with it at first. Car gone, privacy gone. But I really needed the money. He was under supervision, so it seemed safe to me and the municipality paid, so I was sure I would never have to chase the money. But now that things were going better financially, I could no longer get him out of the house. And hey… sometimes it was quite nice to be with someone. Alone was just alone, right? It was still quite far to my house actually. A half hour cycle in the blazing sun. A sip of cold Coke would be welcome.

I clumsily pushed my bike into the shed, where, after a moment of riding itself, it fell against a pile of boxes that had been there since the move. Every weekend I decided to clean out the boxes. And every day I decided to be more careful with my bike. It was the only means of transportation I had. But on the weekends I had other, more fun things to do than tidying up the shed and after work I was too tired to park the bike properly. Actually, I just never felt like it. Home was my safe haven. At least it was before Jackson came along. Luckily I still had my own room, which Jackson was not allowed to enter.

“Did you bring any pizza rolls?” came a deep voice from the living room. “And the milk is gone.”

God damn it, I hadn't even closed the front door before he started whining. It often happened that Jackson would have liked me to bring him anything and everything after work. He hardly ever went shopping himself.

“No,” I replied, throwing my bag under the coat rack. “I just got home from work and I can't smell all the food you've been eating!” “I texted you,” Jackson immediately protested.

The pounding in my head, which I suffered from at work and which had disappeared due to cycling, returned. After work I wanted to be left alone for a while. Even if it was just for a few minutes. In my mind I walked to the kitchen and took a large glass from the cupboard, after which my eye fell on the calendar that was taped to the refrigerator door. Gosh! It was Friday. Nice weekend! Every day seemed the same at that boring job. It often happened that I had forgotten the days of the week and had to accidentally find out that the weekend had started. I once even managed to go to work on a Saturday and did not understand why the gate was closed. Oh yes… Dinner with Jackson tonight, it was noted on the calendar. He was actually going to go with friends, but they canceled. And he treats, so why not. At an all-you-can-eat in the city. I used to eat there with my friends. The choice was large, the food tasty and not too expensive. Jackson also had his good habits. What the…! Why did the refrigerator look so empty inside? Where's my coke?

“Where's my Coke?” I shouted irritatedly from the kitchen.

“It's gone,” came the voice from the living room.

Sigh. So I could still go to the supermarket with my headache. The idea of; Jackson also has his good sides, disappeared immediately and with a wildly beating heart I walked to the living room. There he was, slumped on the couch. 400 pounds of body in just a pair of white boxer shorts, barely visible through his belly, which hung well over it.

“Couldn't you have gone to the store yourself?” I asked, already knowing what the answer would be.

Jackson didn't respond. As usual, he paid more attention to the program on television than to me.

“I was watching this,” he finally said, probably starting to feel uneasy about my icy frame and piercing gaze.

Sometimes we had conversations that were easier than this. About life, the mistakes we had made and our dreams. It took a while, but I finally got Jackson to tell me something about himself every now and then. Sometimes we even laughed about ourselves and each other. More often than not, there were situations like this where I was irritated and Jackson didn't seem to care much. It seemed impossible to make appointments with him. Jackson had proven to be very good at saying yes and doing no.

“I'll go to the supermarket in a moment,” he said after a few minutes, without taking his eyes off the television. 'Let's check this out first. It's almost over."

He'd had all damn day to go to the grocery store and get everything himself. Angry, I walked back to the kitchen and filled the tall glass with tap water to quench my thirst. Jesus man! I had never seen such a lazy nigger. We had to be at the restaurant in less than two hours. He never achieved that. The supermarket was not very far away and you could get there quickly by bike. But not Jackson. The last time he cycled it took him 20 minutes. He had come back completely out of breath. And then he wasn't even as heavy as he is now. And then… my poor bike. Would it hold that weight? How am I going to get to work on Monday if that thing was completely collapsed?

“Never mind, I'll go, again!” I shouted as I placed my half-full glass in the sink and walked into the hallway. “Just freshen up a bit for tonight. And wear decent clothes.”

There was silence from the living room. No response when I closed the front door behind me and took my bike out of the shed again.

“Oh, that guy can whine!” Jackson thought. With a groan he stood up with difficulty and pulled his sagging boxer shorts over his plump, protruding ass. Why on earth had he planned dinner with him? Contact with the friends he used to have had deteriorated since he lived here. They used to be together often, on the street. His father had died when he was a toddler. He did not have good contact with his mother. Neither with his two sisters. They were too busy with themselves. With make-up and men. Maybe as an older brother he should have paid more attention to them, but Jackson had chosen a different path. A path of crime, of stealing and drugs. Until he was at the police station again and was assigned a house for some project. At first he didn't like it, but after a while he started to see the usefulness of a home. It was actually quite nice. A bed, a shower. A place to feel safe. And Eder… oh well, he wasn't too bad apart from his whining. He did the shopping, cleaning, payments. And he was a good cook. His friends still lived on the streets. Or in prison. Jackson had never been to prison. He had been spared that fate.

Jackson glanced in the mirror on the wall in the hallway next to the stairs before beginning his climb. There was a piece of dust in his deep navel that he clumsily picked out with the help of the mirror. He could no longer look over his stomach. It was therefore no longer possible to pick something out of his navel without a mirror. Despite his weight, Jackson's body was not flabby. Not liquid, like the bodies of many fat people are. His belly was large, but firm. And so were his legs, which had to bear all the weight. His legs had always been strong. Handy for running from the police if he stole something again. A deep sigh. Then he slowly climbed the stairs. With each step his boxer shorts slid down a little, revealing a high butt crack, but Jackson didn't seem to mind. Breathing deeply, he reached the last step. Holding on to the banister, he took a good minute to recover from the climb. Thoughts of all the food at the buffet made his mouth water. He had been looking forward to it all day. Actually, it didn't matter to him who went with him, as long as he was there himself. With a bar of soap he washed his armpits and the underside of his fat breasts, which swayed violently despite their firmness. Groaning from bending over, he took off his boxer shorts and also washed the underside of his stomach. These were the places where there were the most sweat spots in this hot weather. They eventually started to itch, he knew from experience. And he felt cleaner and fresher when they were washed. He didn't take time to take a shower. He wanted to be ready when Eder got back. He didn't mean to piss him off. He wanted to go to the supermarket himself, but sometimes he just couldn't find the energy to do it. Then he couldn't pull himself away from the television and the couch and he stayed seated. All day. Like today.

Naked, Jackson walked to his bedroom and took a pair of clean boxer shorts from a drawer. A purple one. He never wore briefs. They were no longer comfortable now that a large fat pad was growing under his belly. He flopped clumsily onto his bed and struggled to get the boxer shorts over his feet. His legs had grown a bit bigger again, he felt as he pulled at the fabric. He lifted his stomach and pulled the boxers up a little further. Again he breathed deeply, as if he had exerted himself heavily. Groaning, he got up and walked to his wardrobe. Decent clothes. What were those actually? Jeans will be better than sweatpants. It was a great opportunity to also wear the new blouse that he bought last month. Jackson didn't like to wear jeans and blouses. He preferred looser clothing around his body, such as sweatpants and shirts. They gave him more freedom of movement and were easier to take off if he got hot. The first pair of jeans he found in his messy wardrobe went straight into the trash. It dates back to the time when he first moved into the house and he could barely pull it over his thick calves. The second pair of jeans had frayed holes at the knees. The pants slid more easily over his calves, but got stuck at his thighs. Sitting on the edge of his bed, Jackson tugged at the dust in frustration. Well, surely he still has one pair of jeans that fit? With a loud crack, the holes at the knees tore out and with a thud, Jackson fell back onto the bed. He had pulled too hard and so these pants also had to go in the trash. Panting, he got up and looked through the shirts in his closet for another pair of jeans. He heard the front door slam shut. Eder had returned, so time was running out. The taxi that would pick them up would be at the door in about an hour.

It was good to see that Jackson was no longer on the couch, a sign that he was changing clothes. Do not get me wrong. I wasn't the type who only wanted to be seen with people in expensive clothes. But I also didn't want to be seen in a restaurant with someone who looked like a beggar. I hurriedly emptied the shopping bag. Finally, Coke! I poured the remainder of the water from the glass into the sink, filling it halfway with coke. I also brought a box of frozen pizza rolls that Jackson had requested. They seemed gross to me, but Jackson ate more of what seemed gross to me. For example, sandwiches with cheese spread, real cheese, jam and chocolate sprinkles. He could eat a whole loaf of it. I greedily drank the coke and ran upstairs to my room to change clothes. I didn't see Jackson. He had closed his bedroom door. I didn't really feel like saying anything to him. There was a nice tense atmosphere again. That promised something for tonight. I personally had no problems finding nice clothes. A lot of it came from the time when I was in a better financial position. Then I had too much money, or so it seemed. Buying designer clothes was one of my hobbies. Crazy actually. It was never about the brand for me, but the clothes were just beautiful. And the quality was good, which is why I can still wear them now. It is not yet pale or full of holes. Then I had a good job at a large bank. Sometimes I still regret leaving. Well… I had indeed resigned there myself. I had my reasons, so I didn't really have to regret it. Money wasn't everything. There was also such a thing as personal happiness. Not that I found that afterwards. I was still searching for what I wanted to do with my life. I started to feel more and more in a hurry. I wasn’t 18 anymore and I wouldn’t live forever. A loud groan sounded, followed by a 'damn it'. Well, Jackson is having a hard time with his clothes. For a moment I thought I was going to check on him, but something stopped me. A white Calvin Klein t-shirt with print. I was going to wear that this evening. With black jeans. Time to get dressed.

When Jackson came to live with me, he was a slim, even athletically muscular boy. Afterwards I heard about his street life, how he had always had to run from the police and that he trained almost every day with climbing frames in playgrounds and loose paving stones that he pulled off as weights. So I understood how he got that body. If I must believe his stories, he never had a home before. No one took care of him. I think he likes it here. Not that I care for him, and I only clean his mess because he doesn't do that himself and I like living in a reasonably clean house. But I still have to cook. For myself, so I cook a little extra and he can eat too. At first he ate almost nothing. Everything I made was dirty. We always ate separately and often he wasn't even home. I then saved a portion for him to heat up in the microwave. When the plate was empty the next morning I knew that he had come home, that he had probably slept in bed and that he did like the food. One day he told me that his best friend had been arrested and taken to prison. He hoped for a while that things would not be too bad and that friend would receive a less harsh punishment, but that turned out not to be the case. Yes, from that moment on Jackson stayed home more often and we ate together more and more. From that moment on I was also able to cook increasingly larger portions. The food tasted good to him. Too good perhaps. There were days when he would lie down in bed after dinner with a stomach ache because he had eaten too much. About six months ago I started noticing that I was losing food. Then suddenly the milk had disappeared from the refrigerator or I couldn't find a pack of cookies that I was sure I had stashed in the pantry. Of course Jackson didn't know anything about anything, but I still assume he drank it or ate it. At first I thought he was suffering from a tapeworm, but when his weight started to increase seriously I knew better. In just under a year and a half, Jackson went from a fit, muscular guy to the over-the-top pudding he is today. He didn't seem to care that much. Sometimes I wondered if he even realized that he had become so fat.

I nervously looked at the clock in the living room. The taxi would arrive in fifteen minutes to take us to the restaurant. I didn't even know Jackson had ordered a taxi. While changing clothes I realized that I didn't know how we were going to get to the city center. Somehow I always think that the bicycle is the only means of transport these days. Sometimes I'm not quite right in my head, I know that. I did like to walk to the city myself. If I have an appointment with one of my friends. I'm not afraid of a brisk walk. But I don't see Jackson walking far anymore. He would probably faint halfway due to his weight. By the way, he could hurry up changing clothes. Otherwise he would be late for his own dinner. I always liked to be on time. Better much too early than a little too late. I didn't know why that was. I did know that I could be annoyed if I had made an appointment and the other person showed up much too late. Of course something could come up, but please let it know. Or those people who were way too early. That I was sitting relaxed on the toilet and the doorbell suddenly rang. You can also call or app then, right? In the kitchen I filled my glass halfway again with cola. That was one of my weird things too; Fill glasses halfway. Just imagine if that taxi came and I hadn't finished the Coke yet. Then it would sit on the counter all evening and it would be lukewarm and without sparkles when I came back. Then I could wash it down the sink. I wasn't a big drinker. Not a big eater either, but I just didn’t get a smaller glass. And where was that fat guy? How much time did it take you to change clothes?

I looked at myself in the mirror by the stairs. The Calvin Klein shirt still fits well. The black jeans had become a little too big, but that's why they invented the belt. In the past three years I had not gained any weight, rather lost it. Due to the stress of not having money I had lost about 50 pounds. I had never been really fat. Quite sturdy. In any case, I was more solid than I am now. People complimented me on losing weight, but a compliment is worth nothing if losing weight was not the intention. Unfortunately, I knew what it was like not to have money to buy food. And if the money was there, I wouldn't be hungry because of all the worries. Fortunately, that period was now behind me. There was a heavy stomp on the stairs and Jackson appeared, huffing and puffing like an old steam locomotive. He descended slowly and laboriously, step by step, holding tightly to the railing. My god… what did he look like! The jeans he was wearing were so tight around his legs that he could barely bend them. His new yellow blouse that looked like it came straight from Hawaii (I thought it was ugly) was no less tight around the rest of his body and certainly didn't hide his love handles, which were too big to hold with one hand, bulging out of his pants. They even hung over it a bit. The yellow fabric wasn't strong enough to support his belly, so it hung low over his crotch. The buttons were tense, as if they were about to pop off at any moment, and openings showed the black color of his flesh. One button above his navel wasn't even closed. His fat arms literally bulged out of the short sleeves. Why hadn't he just put on baggy sweatpants with a t-shirt and left his ugly blouse open? Shit man! If I sent him back to wear something else, he would definitely be late for the taxi.

“You look good,” Jackson said, a little surprised when he caught his breath.

It had indeed been a long time since I had put on my old, expensive clothes. I didn't have to hit on anyone at work anyway and there was no point in wearing expensive clothes on the bike. They would only get dirty with sweat.

“Thank you,” I stammered, not really knowing what to say about him.

The doorbell rang, meaning the taxi had arrived. I quickly said that his new blouse looked good on him as I walked to the front door. Jackson waddled after me. I think the driver was also shocked by that big, black figure behind me, because he quickly took a step back when he saw Jackson. At the taxi I buttoned the open button of his blouse with some difficulty, after I had asked him to hold his stomach for a moment. Why hadn't he bought a size larger? Jackson struggled to get into the backseat of the taxi. While sitting, there was even more pressure on the buttons. The one I had just closed had sprung open again. He seemed to be having trouble breathing. Was he holding his stomach in? In my mind I hoped that nothing crazy would happen in the restaurant. Even if nothing crazy happened, it would still be a special evening. I realized that I had never had dinner with a black guy before. Perhaps it was normal in his culture to walk around with broken buttons on a yellow Hawaiian blouse. Well, at least that's not the case here. Jackson moaned softly. His pants were very tight.

We got to the restaurant in no time by taxi. I looked at Jackson as he paid the driver. The button on his blouse wasn’t just opened, it was gone! It was probably still in the taxi. I didn't feel like looking for it. And Jackson wasn't even aware that he was missing a button. He didn't notice at all that his belly fat was now bulging out of the gap between the buttons in his blouse. If only he had worn a black blouse, it wouldn't have been so noticeable. He walked towards me with a cheerful look. He must have felt blissful from all the smells of freshly baked food that greeted us. Modest as I was, I let him into the restaurant first. After all, he had made a reservation and would pay afterwards. He waddled impatiently after the waiter who pointed to our table. He probably saw the opening in the blouse, because he gave Jackson a dirty look. Funny how truly modest people don't point out flaws to others. Just like that snot in someone's nose that you don't point out to him or her, so that they look like an idiot all day long. I kept a small distance from Jackson and the waiter, as if I didn't want anyone to think I belonged with them, while soon afterwards I was sitting at the same table. Some of the other guests had also seen Jackson and many quickly turned their eyes away. Their children giggled softly, but luckily no one spoke to us.

“I'll go to the buffet,” Jackson said. The drool just barely came out of his mouth. “Will you order me a Coke?”

What the…! Before I could respond, he had gotten up and walked over. I must admit that the extensive buffet, which was clearly visible from our table, looked very inviting. And maybe it was better that way, because I saw dozens of people looking up when he walked past.

The situation reminded me of the barbecue I hosted for my friends and family early last year to celebrate my permanent employment at work. It was more of a party out of common decency, because my bond with the family was already crumbling considerably. Jackson was there too, of course, and a few of his friends, and although he wasn't as heavy as he is now, he had already gained quite a bit of weight. His friends looked at him the same way the people here do now, with some disgust on their faces. Well… those friends were still mainly on the street. They did not want to participate in the project in which the municipality would also look for a house for them. I never saw those friends again afterwards. Actually pretty sad for Jackson. Sometimes I wonder if it doesn't hurt him. He also ate at the barbecue. Even when everyone was gone, he continued to eat. I think that was also the first time he went to bed with a stomach ache. I wanted to call an ambulance, but he really didn't want that. All the meat was gone. The next day it came out again in the toilet. The whole house smelled of it. It was one of the few times Jackson had apologized. Not only because of the smell, but also because of his poor behavior the night before in front of my family and friends. He was ashamed. I didn't think he should have apologized. I already wanted to get rid of my family and the meat had gone nicely. My friends… they didn't like him that much. They felt he was taking advantage of my kindness. They didn't come to my house that often anymore. Especially when Jackson was there and he was almost always there. That's why I went to visit them, or we went to a terrace in the city center.

“A coke and a sweet white wine,” I ordered when the waiter came by.

A nice sweet wine, I deserved it after a week of hard work. Jackson drank almost no alcohol. An occasional beer, in the evening in front of the television when I had bought toast or other tasty things. A table further away I heard children giggling. Not much later, Jackson appeared. There was a mountain of food on his plate. Shrimp, eggs, something that looked like a steak, a puff pastry case with ragout and all kinds of things were hidden under a pile of potato salad.

“Could there be more to it?” I asked sarcastically as Jackson sat down.

The coke and wine were brought, after which he eagerly looked for his cutlery, on which he had placed the plate. “I'll go back right away.” He smiled showing his big white teeth. “So, let's enjoy first.”

I pointed out to him that his cutlery was under the plate because he looked like he was trying to push the food in with his hands. I couldn't deny that Jackson always ate with relish. I could learn something from that. I always eat in a hurry and because I have to. In the past, I often didn't take the time to cook a decent meal. Sometimes I even skipped meals. If I didn't feel like driving to the grocery store to get something to eat, I didn't. Now that Jackson is here, I eat more regularly. At home then. If I forget to take bread to work again, I can still easily not eat for the whole day.

“You should have told me that a button on my blouse is missing,” Jackson said suddenly between two big bites.

Wow, awkward moment. Someone had apparently brought it to his attention. I didn't know what to say for a moment. It might have been polite if I had made a comment, but then? We couldn't quickly drive home to get another blouse or shirt.

“You're right, I could have let you know that a button is missing,” I finally said. “I hope you don't feel uncomfortable now,” I said afterward.

Jackson shrugged, stuffing his mouth with the last bite before this plate was empty. I stared at him, waiting for him to swallow the bite and answer.

“I'm here to eat, not to worry about what others think. There's nothing wrong with male black meat, right? Let them take a good look. And I'm also here to have a good time with you."

He added the latter quickly, as if he were afraid of offending me. He pushed the empty plate to the center of the table and stood up again.

“I'll go again.”

And he was gone.

A buffet was actually not suitable for two people at all. If you went there with a group, there was always someone at the table with you. If there were only two of you, you were often alone. The sweet wine here was tasty. That was not the case at every restaurant. After taking a big sip, I decided it was time to take a look at the food myself. Jackson stood by the hot plates, where chefs were preparing the meat and vegetables. I myself was more into the small snacks. They had plenty of those here too. A glass of shrimp cocktail. That was mine. And some deviled eggs. A few slices of smoked salmon (I was a fish lover) and meatballs. Oh…did I see fried squid rings there? I took that with me too. It seemed like a lot, but my plate was not even half full. I had barely sat down at the table when Jackson also returned. His plate was fuller. Two steaks and a sirloin steak. That was also one of those dirty things that Jackson couldn't get enough of. I once ate a sirloin steak at my ex's parents' house. Damn! That filthy fat edge. I still get nauseous when I think about it. It was the first time in my life that I didn't eat the food out of decency, which led to another awkward situation. I really couldn't get it in no matter how much I wanted to.

“Thanks for the invite,” I said, trying to make conversation as Jackson devoured the meat in front of him. “I know you would rather have been here with your friends…”

The latter came out before I knew it and I decided not to finish my sentence. I didn't know how much Jackson would be bothered to hear it.

Jackson shrugged again, but made no further response.

“Don't you ever miss them?”

I couldn't resist asking the question. Personally, I would miss my friends if they suddenly disappeared from my life. Jackson stopped eating for a moment and stared at the half-gnawed sirloin steak on his plate.

“They themselves chose to drop me,” he replied somewhat under his breath. I had to make an effort to understand him. “I don't miss people like that.”

He lifted the sirloin steak to his mouth with his hands and began to hastily bite off large pieces. I didn't have time to ask more questions, because Jackson got up again to get more.

Maybe it was his tactic to shut me up. Jackson didn't like to talk about his friends. In the beginning, yes. He was almost proud of them, how they managed to survive on the streets. I often had discussions with him about the ethics of stealing, but Jackson really thought differently than me, so those conversations were never satisfying. Let me also go to the buffet. The nice thing about buffets was that you didn't have to eat everything in a certain order. You just took what you felt like at that moment. People always looked at me in amazement when I could fill a plate with desserts in between, and then move on to savory, warm things. They just had white chocolate mousse here. And brownies. Ice cream, I wasn't crazy about that. This is enough for now, I can always go back. Jackson was already in place. Two full plates lay on the table in front of him. Was one plate no longer enough or something? It made me feel sick looking at the two mountains of food. What must those chefs have thought when that fat boy appeared in front of them with two plates? Would they have made a comment? Parts of the food slid from the plate onto the table as Jackson eagerly began to eat it. It looked quite unappetizing. The big bites he took, which were swallowed almost without chewing. Others saw it too. They had followed him with their eyes from the moment he passed their table with the two full plates. Have you ever seen someone looking at something in disgust? The restaurant was now full of looks like this. I think the children found it exciting and probably wondered whether he would get to finish the plates. Well, he seemed to be able to do it easily. With a soft 'pop' a second button popped off the blouse, revealing even more of his black belly. Shit man! He won't be walking half naked to the buffet again, will he? I pretended to be invisible and turned my gaze to the white chocolate mousse on my plate as several other guests walked past our table on their way to the exit.

“Disgusting,” one of them said quietly.

Jackson didn't notice. He was too busy scarfing down the food. “Delicious!” he suddenly shouted.

I was shocked and choked on the mouse. Others looked our way. What the hell…! I stared at my plate again. Maybe I should just walk away. Er… get chocolate mousse again or something. Satisfied, Jackson rubbed his stomach and felt the second button had disappeared. He smiled. “This is really great man!” he said, leaning back to give his stomach more room.

He sat there for a moment and stared into space. I wondered what was going through his mind at this moment. What would someone who had just consumed four full plates be thinking about? Jackson rubbed his stomach again, then struggled to get up.

“Are you really going back to the buffet with your blouse half torn open?” I said cattily. I was terribly ashamed. What must those people be thinking? More and more of them seemed to leave because of him. Jackson nodded his head. He probably didn't care what I thought about it. Suddenly there was a loud gurgling sound under the blouse. “Ooh, but first I'm going to the bathroom,” Jackson said. 'And quickly too. All that food is putting pressure on my intestines. Can you help me get up?'

I didn't dare look into the restaurant anymore for fear of all the eyes that were undoubtedly staring at us, while Jackson tried to get out of the chair, leaning on me. Wow, that boy was heavy! With a clearly audible groan and a final effort he straightened his legs. While he waddled towards the toilets, I quickly ran back to the dessert corner of the buffet. I don't belong with him… I don't belong with him, was all I could think. Some children started laughing and pointed after him. There was a huge tear in the jeans near his butt. The purple boxer shorts he was wearing were clearly visible. Oh my God! Back at the table, I hoped Jackson would never return. That this was all a bad dream. I never asked him to wear clothes that were too tight. Just decent clothes. I quietly ate the freshly made chocolate mousse. Would Jackson really want to eat more? How was he going to make it? With a torn blouse and pants? I would be ashamed of myself if I walked around like that. Should I forbid him from getting more? That wasn't possible, right? Maybe all this wasn't necessary and my first wish came true, because it took quite a while before Jackson showed himself again. Crazy things went through my head. Could he have fallen down the toilet? Could he have produced such a big turd with all his food that he couldn't get it out? Could he have gone into cardiac arrest due to his obesity? Only then do you realize that no matter how ashamed you are of someone, you don't want anything serious to happen to that person. It took at least half an hour before he appeared again. His torn pants hung in front of his crotch. He couldn't get it any higher. The bottom of his stomach was sticking out of his blouse, in front of the purple boxer shorts, which would certainly have been visible otherwise. The waiter looked after him. Fortunately, more guests had left in the meantime, which made me feel a bit safer.

With a sigh he sat down opposite me again. “I couldn't get my clothes on, man,” he said. “I got a little bigger than I thought.”

Finally, Jackson showed traces of self-knowledge. And I hoped that, like me, he thought it was time to go home. But unfortunately. Drooling, his head turned back towards the buffet and I could almost hear him thinking about what to get next.

“You know there's a huge tear in your jeans?” I said, stopping him from getting up.

I didn't feel like having to support him again. Jackson looked at me in shock. Apparently he didn't notice. I don't think it's strange if your belly is so big that you can't see your own pants while sitting on the toilet, even though they are hanging around your ankles.

'Your ass is bulging out, man. You really can't do that.'

Jackson stared at the empty table in front of him, clearly disappointed. I thought that was sad again. For him, a nice dinner should not end in disappointment. Especially since he was the one who paid. “Can't you go get me a plate?” Jackson asked softly. 'Just one, then we'll leave quietly.

Well, go ahead then. I wasn’t really willing to be treated like his personal servant, but there was no other option. As long as he just sat there with his big, black body and torn clothes, he couldn't attract much more attention than what he had already done. He didn't really care what I took with me. Everything was tasty, so I took the liberty of putting everything on the plate. Pizza slices, mashed potatoes with sausages and a variety of meats freshly baked by the chefs on the griddle. Previously I judged the food mountains that he had brought with him, but now I do exactly the same. Perhaps I should have taken two plates with me. The chefs smiled at me. Of course they knew that all that meat was not for me. Jackson was amazed when I came back. I had managed to put more food on a plate than him. Immediately he started eating it. In the meantime, I got a plate of small dough dishes that I hadn't seen before. At the table I grabbed one myself. I gave the rest to Jackson, who already had half of the full plate empty.

“Man, this is so good,” he said with his mouth full, after which he added a triangular-shaped dough snack.

Honestly, I don't cook that well. Not that extensive anyway. Somehow I felt at ease again. As long as Jackson stayed put. All he had to do was eat. And it helped that many people had already left the restaurant. It was already almost nine o'clock. Many people don't stay in a restaurant for very long.

What a slimeball! I've never seen someone so squirming and begging for a plate of food. One plate had become four. Finally time for dessert and so I walked between the buffet tables for the fifth time in search of sweet treats. Okay, what should I take with me? Profiteroles, brownies, cupcakes. Chocolate mousse; pure, milk and white. The plate was completely full again when I walked back to the table. Jackson breathed deeply. He barely got up to reach the plate. That's what you get when you eat that much. I walked back to the buffet, to the wide freezer that was there. Jackson liked ice cream, I knew. After all, he ate all those tubs of ice cream, which I wanted to save for those few times when I really felt like it. They had many flavors here. Hmmm… banana, chocolate, vanilla. And a few scoops of less common flavors. So, a generous dollop of whipped cream on top. If he still wants to eat, I will let him eat!

“You're good to me,” Jackson said as I returned to the table and placed the bowl of ice cream and the huge mound of whipped cream next to the plate of desserts. I sat down on my chair and decided that this would be the last round. The restaurant was about to close and Jackson looked like he was going to explode at any moment. There were only buttons left on his blouse near his breasts. The rest popped off two plates ago. He had also unbuttoned his pants to create more space for his stomach so he could push even more food into it.

“I can't take it anymore,” he finally said with a deep sigh that made his face look painful.

His overfull stomach pressed on his lungs, making breathing difficult and even painful. It also made a gurgling sound. Maybe it was too tight. I hadn't seen Jackson eat this much before.

“That's a shame,” I said.

'Come on, your plate is almost empty and you still have to finish that ice cream, right? That whipped cream isn't filling. You'll finish it in no time.'

Jackson nodded, as if he thought I was right, and continued eating the chocolate mousse. If you're so greedy, eat everything, I thought. Otherwise it's a shame. Of that ice cream and of my time getting it. Slowly, Jackson finally brought a spoonful of ice cream to his mouth. Apparently the ice cream was very tasty, or it was just a new flavor that made Jackson eat faster again. Spoonfuls of whipped cream eagerly disappeared into his mouth. Almost empty. He leaned back in his chair, trying to relieve the painful pressure in his stomach.

“Just a little more,” Jackson panted when the ice cream was gone too. “Just a little more pudding, I can still finish that.”

But I had other plans and called the taxi. Jackson didn't seem to be completely in this world anymore. His eyes looked dazed, as if he were going to faint at any moment. If I had gotten more, it would have been good, but I thought he actually wouldn’t mind to go now.

The waiter looked wide-eyed at the large, black belly, most of which rested visibly on his thighs, as Jackson paid her. Tipping was probably something he had never heard of, because he paid to the cent. My phone beeped. The taxi had arrived, I saw on an app.

“We have to go, the taxi is here.”

I hopped out of my seat with relief. As I expected, it had been a strange evening. On the one hand I was happy that it was over, but something in me also liked it. It was just a shame his clothes were too tight. That had attracted too much attention.

“I…I can't get up!” Jackson groaned. 'I ate too much.'

Of course I was allowed to support him again, but this time it was more difficult to get him up than when he had to go to the toilet. He kept falling back into the chair. His gut looked hard and swollen. A soft burp left his mouth. We had to hurry. This taxi wouldn't wait forever. Fortunately, one of the servers was kind enough to help us. Or he just wanted to get rid of us. They were probably happy that we were going. The waiter stood on the other side of Jackson and with some effort we got Jackson out of the chair. He held his stomach tightly with both hands as we guided him to the exit.

“What a big eater,” the waiter said to me.

He winked. I give him a phony laugh. The clerk and driver helped Jackson into the taxi. I took a seat next to him in the back seat and hoped to become invisible again through sheer willpower. It was not easy to get him into the taxi. He could no longer bend over, there was too much food in his stomach for that. Finally, he collapsed into the backseat, his legs spread wide to provide all the room his belly needed. Weird gurgling noises came out of it as Jackson gently rubbed it. He breathed deeply. As long as he doesn't fart here. The driver probably thought the same, because he raced us back home, taking a speed bump a little too fast.

“I'm exploding!” Jackson shouted, when the threshold was behind us and I had regained my place in the backseat. Jesus, that guy was really in a hurry. A loud belch escaped Jackson's mouth. The driver remained silent. Even when the taxi started to smell like grilled meat and fried potatoes. The gurgling sound from his stomach became louder and louder and for a moment I wondered if it was actually possible to explode from eating too much. Fortunately, we were back in my street. While Jackson was trying to get up in the restaurant, I had taken the liberty of grabbing his wallet, which he had placed on the table. Fortunately, there was still enough money in it to pay the driver. This one didn't get a tip from me either, grumpy guy. He hurriedly parked the taxi on the sidewalk in front of our house. It was clear he wanted to get rid of us.

No doubt the driver would have thought we were the biggest bastards he had ever transported. He sullenly took the money I gave him. Huffing heavily, as if he were about to give birth at any moment, Jackson lay slumped in the backseat. Judging by the smell that made its way out when I opened the door, he had just farted.

“Help me,” he said softly, trying to pull himself out of the doorway.

It was not easy to get that monster out of the car. He had done an extremely good job in the restaurant. Eight large plates of food, that's no small feat. After ten minutes he had not moved an inch. The driver looked impatiently at our fumbling. It didn't interest me. What a jerk! Once again, Jackson fell back into the backseat after I tried to pull him up. A loud fart escaped. Jackson groaned.

“Come on, one more time,” I said, grabbing his arm again.

Jackson remained seated. “I'm in so much pain.”

Don't whine so much. It was his own fault that he was now sitting there with a painfully full stomach. I counted down and pulled him out of the taxi with all my strength. It worked. Panting, he stood in front of me, holding his stomach tightly again. The driver stood there and looked at it. I didn't spare him a glance. As I supported Jackson to the front door, I heard the taxi drive away with screeching tires. Another loud fart sounded. Digesting all that food will produce the necessary gasses. His belly looked big and hard. Maybe it was a good idea to make him throw up over the toilet to take away most of the tension. Calling an ambulance was not an option, Jackson never wanted that when he had a stomach ache from eating. Maybe he was ashamed of himself if he had lost control again. In any case, it didn't look good. Jackson's face contorted in pain with every step he took and that black belly, it was really big and bloated. It stood out heavily in front of us as we walked down the hall. His head was wet with sweat and he was breathing deeply. I honestly thought he was going to drop dead at any moment. That his heart couldn't handle it anymore. He was already out of breath, and he still had to climb the stairs. I thought it would be better, and he wanted it too, to put him on the bed instead of on the couch. He had plenty of room in bed to recover from all the food. And I would rather have him release all the fumes in his room than in the living room.

Gawd…! And just as I was using force to push him up by his fat ass, he let another one out. Jesus, they were getting harder. The neighbor must have heard this. And the smell! Oh my God. A really diarrheal smell! Disgusting. We were almost at the top of the stairs. After each step, Jackson needed a few minutes to catch his breath. With one hand still holding his stomach, with the other he lifted himself up onto the banister. If only it didn't come loose from the wall it was attached to. If Jackson were to fall now, I would be beneath him. Neither of us would probably survive that. But that smell… terrible!

“I can't anymore,” Jackson whimpered.

His stomach rumbled unnaturally loudly. This is the moment it's going to burst, I thought and pushed his ass again. Groaning, Jackson stepped up another step. His blouse was below us, in the hallway. I had helped take it off so he could move a little more and to cool him down a bit as the sweat was pouring off his body. Hop, another step!

“We're almost there,” I said as Jackson collapsed.

He shouldn't be stuck here now. I didn't feel like having to support him all night. I couldn't see how many steps we had to go, because his body blocked my view, but there couldn't be many. Jackson laboriously took another step. Then another. We were upstairs. I sighed. What a late night job. Jackson waddled to his room without my help. A burp. His ripped jeans hung from his knees as he flopped back on the bed. It creaked under his weight. Curious, I checked to see if his heart had not stopped yet.

“Thanks,” he puffed softly.

I nodded and left his room.

There I was, in the middle of the night, sitting on a slightly sagging couch in the living room. What a night. I had poured myself a coke. I didn't have any wine, but I was most certainly in the mood for it now. He came to live with me, Jackson, a year and a half ago. Slim, athletic, from the street and he used my house as a kind of youth center. Those friends of his, they were not sweethearts. Neither was he. My stuff disappeared, my money disappeared and my privacy was completely gone. I was bullied and humiliated in my own home. I couldn't get rid of him anymore. He was too well protected by the municipality for that. I had actually signed up to keep him in my home for five years myself. So I couldn't get rid of his friends either. I had even called the police a few times to have them thrown out of the house. Idiots, they were. When they had ridiculed me so much that I fled my own house crying, I had decided to poison Jackson. But yes... then I would go to jail myself and I wasn’t  willing to do that. I discovered that Jackson started eating more when he was sad or disappointed. I made good use of that knowledge because, I thought, if he gained a lot of weight, he would no longer be able to survive on the street and his friends would no longer be of any use to him. Then they would stay away. That would be nice revenge for Jackson's retarded behavior towards me. Not only in terms of his friends, but also in terms of the household. He really did nothing all day but watch television and give me orders. So I became his maid. I did the housework, laundry and shopping. And most of all, I cooked. I regularly asked him about his friends, about his mother and sisters. And about  his dreams and wishes. And I always asked before or during dinner. He almost never answered with words, but from the intense eating that suddenly occurred, I could see that I had hit him somewhere. Sad really, but I still wanted to get rid of him. I wanted to move on with my life, without someone constantly watching what I was doing and depriving me of the energy to do the things I really wanted to do. It didn't look like he was going to leave voluntarily. I'm just glad those horrible friends got the hell out of here. And that the clothes that were too tight were torn now. Fortunately, he couldn't wear those anymore. Well boy, you shouldn’t eat so much and be so lazy. That was not a healthy combination. Jackson, 400 pounds in a year and a half. Could I double that in another year and a half?