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This was genuinely so genius! I adore the subtle worldbuilding shown in MC's internal monologue.

The Night Hunt

I need to eat. It’s not eating anymore. It doesn’t feel like thirst or hunger. It’s not something I would have understood as a human. I feel like I’m going to die. I don’t want to die. I don’t think anyone would mind if I did. My mouth is shaped so differently than it once was, I can’t move my jaws, I feel empty, I need it to fill me, and I feel empty.

The upper west side vampiric community center was cramped, getting everything it could from limited funds and real estate. The walls were white and the lighting sterile, their deadness only broken by overly enthusiastic posters. It was strange looking at the other vampires in the building, most of them seemed to be doing much better than me. Even most of the ones that ones you could tell weren’t human at a glance usually looked more human than me. It felt like everyone I saw was doing better than me, the petite girl in a black dress talking to her parents on the phone, the bearded man with cats eyes dressed in fancy clothes he had probably owned some version of for centuries, the snake mouthed person guzzling down a can of commercially sold blood like it was soda. I could assume a lot of the vampires I saw here had supportive families, and many others were old enough to be well adjusted to their lives. It almost hurt looking at vampires who could pass better than me, or who could better mask vampiric traits, this embarrassing envy, that I was a monster even by the standards of monsters.

I could have socialized, but I was too tired, and too thirsty. I had just been denied a good behavior slip by the New York State government, and thus denied a month’s supply of donated blood, and the building stopped being somewhere I wanted to be. Most vampires can’t get a good behavior slip, A lot don’t even try just because of how humiliating and restrictive life during the audit can be. A lot of them live off of relatives’ and friend’s blood, or buy it wholesale. I don’t have the option for either of those, at least not consistently.

I walked up Broadway, when I left, below the safety of the dark sky, and the calming yellow light of the windows, past the old brick buildings of a childhood that now seems alien to me. Best to get outside time in while I can, it’s summer, giving me few hours before the sun rises. It’s strange to remember when I walked down that street as a human. That deep loss of something I can remember but will never feel once more. Remembering how easy things were. When the restaurants smelled good to my body, instead of sickly sweet. It would’ve made me cry to see myself reflected in a window, if my eyes had tears to cry. To see I was the type of vampire other even other vampires shunning, too vampiric perhaps, to close to what they all fear being, too close to what they’re all accused of. I used to think of losing my humanity was a horrible fate, and now I am the bad ending for so many other nonhumans. I wonder how many of my kind’s advocates think I’m worthy of oppression. They say not all vampires look horrifying to humans, but I look horrifying to humans. They say not all vampires think violent thoughts about humans automatically, but I find myself doing that so often. They say not all vampires are weak to sunlight, or are hurt by symbols of their prior faith, but I am, and it hurts, and if acceptance means telling people it doesn’t hurt I’ll just get hurt more.

I tried to think of something to distract myself. Tried to think of friends who still cared about me, about that show I wanted to finish, tired to think about that Lord of the Rings fanfic that I wrote in middle school that I had though about on that street, on a bright day so alien to the humid night I walked through. No matter what I thought about there was always blood in the back on my mind. Even when a vampire isn’t thinking about blood directly, when they’re low, as almost fatally low as I was, it’s always able to be felt in the background. I could feel my body’s desire for blood, feel the pain and weakness of not having it. It was strange, to know that my body hurt because it wanted like, that my body only transformed into a vampire because it would have died from being bitten by one if it hadn’t. My body wanted to live as a vampire so much more than I did. My hands shook, my gate more unbalanced, more stumbling than it usually was, my twisted and inhuman mouth, the most inhuman part of my body, salivating. The staggered and almost animalistic walk must have made me look even more like a monster. The pigeons flew away when they saw me, they must have known, or maybe that’s just what pigeons are like.

 My once tan skin now so pale my organs are visible, my once fit body now skinny, my brown eyes forever white, and my mouth perfectly round and unmoving and filled with sharp tooth after sharp tooth like a lamprey. All so perfect to drink blood, all built to drain blood. It hurts to think I’ll probably be in this body for centuries. The same hoodie I’d been wearing for days still covers me a bit, as does my mess of uncut hair, I don’t really have to wash these things without human oils on my body anymore. It’s not good to think too long about that fact. There is no wonder my parents would rather consider their precious daughter basically dead, than know that she lived as this. I might do the same if I had a choice. I think about when I was turned sometimes, how I didn’t get to be turned out of love, or lust, or spite, how the bite was meant to kill me, how it would have killed me if I wasn’t rushed to the hospital, or if I hadn’t fought the attacker off. I never even knew the name of the vampire who attacked me. I didn’t know why he did at the time, I assumed it was from hate, I understand now, I would never defend attacking someone like that but I understand, he was hungry, I know how it feels to want blood like how he must have. People would have had me better in their memories if I had died, nobody admits it, but it’s true, my parents convinced themselves I had on religious grounds, saying my soul had left my body, I understand why, my reputation was not tarnished.

As I walked past stores and restaurants that had closed hours earlier, saw how little the world wanted me. I wondered how I would keep existing. I remembered that my transformation has made it so I wouldn’t age, couldn’t die a natural death at all, I realized how strange it would be for me to exist in a body like the one I did for hundreds more years, thousands if I got lucky. There was the feeling that maybe I’d be murdered, most of society didn’t even want the most human passing, most privileged vampires to live, it sucked even for people who had it so much better than me, maybe I’d just die, maybe one of those monster hunter gangs would finally due me in like they always threaten to online. But what if I didn’t, what if I had to still live. If I actually had put the work in to having positive relationships with the community maybe some vampiric elder would be able to tell me. As it was I felt lost, I didn’t know what I could be doing a hundred years from where I stood. Would things be better than, for me, for us? Would I be ok?

For a moment my eye caught a girl around my age. As a human I would have felt lust for her, she had that exact look that I used to like. Glistening hair dyed a candy colored red, a pale pink Cowboy Bebop t-shirt covering her chest. I would have felt lust, or perhaps a more noble sounding attraction, but now that part of me is gone, and seeing a young healthy body like that just makes me think about what it would be like to drink her instead of making me think about being in bed with her. I knew it was wrong, but it would feel so good, to feel my mouth punch into her neck, and drain her dry. I don’t want to feel this way, the logical part of my brain doesn’t like feeling this way, but it’s a feeling in my body. When I looked at her soft skin my teeth ever so slightly extended outwards, and the tiredness from the pain of thirst temporarily ceasing as my body filled with energy, my dreaming mind fantasizing about holding her as I drank her blood, as ashamed as I am of such thoughts, as little as I’d want to ever hurt someone like her, it felt so good in the moment just to fantasize. It was the closest I still had to feeling anything sexual or romantic, as many social media posts as there are telling you it’s a myth that all vampires lose their sexual or romantic feelings, it’s true for me, I don’t even have breasts or sex organs anymore, as horrifying as that is to even acknowledge about myself. Just another thing that makes me seem less human, and just another thing that makes drinking human blood seem to desirable. I didn’t want to hurt her, just looking at her walking, she seemed so happy, so pure.

I did nothing, yet she still crossed the street. I understood, it was late, and I was a ragged looking vampire walking near her, she had a right to feel safe. I ran, as thirsty as my body was I didn’t want to be near her, and didn’t want to cause a scene.

Best to flee uptown, Time Square is filled with Faeries, and Central Park with werewolves, and neither take kindly to my kind in the places they tend to hang out. There is a safety in being human, despite all the stories of young maidens scratched up in monster’s arms, with blood contrasting on top of their pretty white skin, most monsters with ill wills are way more likely to target other species of monster rather than humans. Humans are often well armed, and well defended by the law, and so many monsters are so eager to prove their kind’s validity through their hatred of another species of monster.

My running only stopped when I had to cross the street to avoid a church. One of those big ornate ones you’d see a vampiric villain hang out in in a thriller movie, with that shining stained glass they haven’t built in generations. They say it’s not anything divine that burns vampires that are weak to holy symbols, it’s just the memory of faith that hurts, the memory of the most human of all actions. Doesn’t change the fact that the pope still says we don’t have souls. The church ghosts all fled, they floated somewhere else just from seeing me, I wanted to yell to them “What? Are you too good even to haunt me.” I didn’t of course, I didn’t want to cause a scene. Maybe I would have if I wasn’t so weak from thirst.

I can’t get blood. The state won’t give it to me. My friends would say no if I asked. I can’t afford to buy it. I dropped out of school when I was turned, there wasn’t accommodation, and late classes were hard to get. Most of the friends I still have either treat me like a tragedy to fawn over, or like I could kill them at any time, they’re only human after all. I guess that’s why they recommend socializing with other monsters. I barely look for work anymore, even well-meaning humans are uncomfortable around me, though to be fair I’ve done nothing not to make them uncomfortable, and it’s impossible to ask them to close daytime windows, or keep silver and garlic away.  I spend so much time on the internet. I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t ask to be this thirsty. I don’t want to look this way, and I don’t want to need blood. I never chose any of this, never chose to be bitten, never chose to be saved.

For a moment I saw another person on the street, alone with me. Some rich kid staggering drunk and barely knowing where he is, a sweatshirt from some fancy wizarding school clinging on to his body. His rosy yet pale cheeks, so vulnerable, not so privileged that he could hurt me, just privileged enough to feel like every bad though I could have towards him was punching up. He was the exact type of asshole that I’d expect to call me a slur, to be proud that wizards like him had engaged in just enough vampire hunts in the thirties and forties to be considered another type of human. But he didn’t. He didn’t notice me at all, he just sang to himself with his earbuds in and his eyes glued to his phone as he stumbled past closed stores.

I can smell blood on his lips. I remember that there is another way to quench my thirst. I’d have to drain him dry so that nobody would know. I don’t want to. I don’t want to be that type of vampire. His body is so fresh, I’d be full for like a year. I can’t stop looking at him and remembering my life. He’ll run but I can catch up to him, and he’ll taste so good. And I would be so hard to catch if I drained him to death, he’s a stranger, the case would go cold. I need blood, and he has blood, it’s like a trolly problem, you don’t need sadism to pick yourself when you’re tied to the tracks. And I can’t think of another way I could get blood before starving to death.  It feels weird to grab his wrist as he struggles, too thirsty to think too deeply. I don’t want to look at his face when he screams, but something deep within me is excited to hear a human scream. I feel sorry for him I think, he didn’t deserve this, I didn’t deserve this, if things were different… well they aren’t different. God my voice sounds demonic with this mouth. “I’m sorry, but I have to do this.”

It's the same thing with black people too. It's exhausting to watch and go through. Thanks for bringing it to words.

Queer 👏 people 👏 are 👏 not 👏 all 👏 fucking 👏 activists 👏

Stop quizzing us on queer history and asking us questions we aren’t qualified to answer about the world and about politics and about our identities

Stop trying to back us into a corner so you can justify your discrimination on the basis that we don’t know what we’re talking about or can’t “defend” ourselves to you

Stop treating every queer person that stands up and says “I want to be treated like a person” as if they’re an activist

Cut that bullshit out

Marginalised people just want to exist and be happy

I don’t know everything, and that doesn’t make me undeserving of your respect or my human rights you fucker

I don’t even owe you the stuff I do know- I still am entitled to basic fucking respect

TLDR; Queer people shouldn’t have to be historians or scientists for you to not be a fucking dick

Your city has captured an angel, it's all chained up with massive chains forged with sea serpent's blood. They caught it long before you were born, when the land was first being colonized by your culture. It's been just a normal part of your city's local culture for your entire life. It's been here for so long; nobody even knows the name of the god who gave it life.

It's a massive angel, with four wings, and the head of an eagle with burning eyes, and a fiery sword in its hand that they were never able to pry away from it even after it was chained. It's a symbol of local civic pride, they sell T-shirts of it and dolls of it in touristy areas, and it's the mascot for almost every local sports team, and most schools. Sometimes it's easy to forget that it's even real.

The angel has been in the largest local building, chained up, for nearly three hundred years now. People come and see it all the time. It used to speak, but it stopped around the time humans could record sound. They say for thirty years it slept, and for thirty years after that it wept, but it doesn't do that anymore, it just looks at everyone, watching and waiting, in an old brick building. Maybe it's judging you and waiting for its god to come.

They say its wings used to glow, and its eyes used to be bright yellow instead of its current fiery orange, you're not sure what that means. Its halo is almost impossible to see now, so faint and ghostly, it used to glow so bright they say ghosts and vampires were repelled from it as if it was the sun, now they swarm it like insects cowering by a flame. It would strike them all away if not for the chains, if it had the strength, if it saw the sun.

Everyone loves the angel. They use its blood and sweat to make medicine and fuel, it's light alone is one of the few renewable sources of energy in the local area. A lot of people think your city went into the industrial revolution early because of it being there. You wonder what other things the angel would have given you, if you had let it sit there willingly. It was born on the hill your city was built on, you don't think it ever would have left, even if it was not in a city ruled by those who believe you have to imprison something to have it.

Am I the only one that wanted or expected Alador to be just as bad as Odalia? Like before their official introduction they were made out to be equally abusive towards the kids but then he turned out to just be more neglectful and emotionally absent than actively abusive. I just feel like that was a more last minute desicion.

One thing I'd love to see explored in Owl House fics is the Titans decomposition. We see in the show that the Titan is still decomposing and presumably will continue to do so. My question is- what will happen when it's too decomposed. Like would there be a Demon Realm equivalent to climate change where they're rushing to stop the Titans decomposition so that their island isn't destroyed? Is there even a way to do so? Do they accept their fate and simply mass migrate to find a new Titan to live on? PLEASE let me know if there's any fanfics about this kind of thing.

Hello ! I am a Palestinian academic educator from Gaza, seeking your urgent support in time of bad need. I am trying to reach out to generous donors or contributors to help get my family out of the hell of the war to safety and peace. The war turned our life up side down and turned us from having everything to having nothing. Our house and livelihood business have been lost due to the war and my whole family became homeless and displaced in a very small tent under the sunny hot weather. No place to shelter my family and no income to live on. Life has become unbelievably harsh and tough. That is why I am asking your kind support. Please don't leave us alone in such tragic and catastrophic circumstances. My family is in bad need to your contribution, either through directly donating whatever you can or through sharing my link. Your assistance is highly appreciated and welcome.

gofundme.com

Donate to Help little children of Gaza stay safe and alive!, organized by Atef Ayyad

Help me rescue my beautiful family from the damned war on Gaza. My name … Atef Ayyad needs your support for Help little children of Gaza st

^the link

The Character Arc: 101

As opposed to the plotline, the character is a description of what ahppens to the inside of the character over the course of the story.

Your lead character should be a different person at the other end of the arc.

The character has a build to it. It must, or the change will not be convincing. A good character arc has:

A beginning point, where we meet the character and get a sense of his interior layers (more on layers in a moment)

A doorway through which the character must pass, almost always reluctantly

Incidents that impact the layers

A deepening disturbance

A moment of change, sometimes via an "epiphany"

An aftermath

Layers of a Character

The layers get "softer" (easier to change) as you move outward. The point of the whole character arc is to crack these layers one by one with external pressure until the character changes in a major way.

As an example: Scrooge from <A Christmas Carol>?

Core Image = miser, misanthrope

Beliefs = pointlessness of charity

Values = money over people

Attitude = profit is more important than good works

Opinion = christmas is a humbug

The Beginning = The character is, well, what he usually is.

Impacting Incidents = There's pressure for the character to change.

it is best to underplay such moments.

Overdo it, and you will lapse into melodrama.

Deepening Disturbances = The initial "lesson" is followed up by an even more shocking pressure

Aftermath = There is an action which indicates that the character is changing, reacting to the external pressure.

The Epiphany = The big moment of change.

The Character Arc Table

List the impacting and deepening incidents in your novel in a table

Add the first (starting) and last (ending) points of your plot

Now, list how your character's inner world changes along with the external changes that take place.

If you like my blog, buy me a coffee☕ and find me on instagram! 📸

My toxic trait is that I want to be flirted with like they do in musicals. I want a pretty girl to break in through my window and kiss me. I want a pretty guy to hold out a paper flower and ask me to come home with him. I want someone to make a fool out of themselves singing and dancing in an attempt to make me laugh and win me over. I want somebody to pester me about when we’re gonna get married or tell me that if they took a meat cleaver down the center of my skull, they’d have matching halves. I want someone help me fight against animal cruelty or help me achieve my dreams while I put a spotlight on the corruption of their employer. I want all of this even though it’s mostly unhealthy and weird.

But I also want nobody to talk to me ever.

Me reading fanfics when i should be asleep 💀

Emphasis on describing someone walking across a room 🙃 (the novel is coming along fine yall I promise I don't wanna cease breathing)

They empathize but they don't quite understand how frustrating it is 😔

the loneliness of being queer

to quote trixie mattel: gay people are so broken

we need less songs about romance and more songs about arson

These things aren't really filler either, characterization is important to the story and plot! Let the main characters talk about their algebra homework, have the siblings argue over the last slice of pizza, it's all just as important as naming a magic system

Working on my novel and couldn’t figure out why it felt so empty. I didn’t have any filler. It was all 100% plot. The characters only interacted when necessary. I didn’t prattle on about the scenery or how the birds sounded. I had all my fuller stuff that I loved saved in another file because I “didn’t need it”.

Y’all, I knew this existed in TV shows but it didn’t hit me until this that everything is being whittled down. We are so starving for filler that we snap up anything. I unload all mine on Tumblr or keep it in a massive Google Docs. It SUCKS.

Honestly? Death to plot necessity. Revive filler. Revive unnecessary interactions. Revive just vibing with characters sometimes. I don’t want to just consume the plot and I don’t want to just create the plot either.

@danny-rkz

“how did you get into writing” girl nobody gets into writing. writing shows up one day at your door and gets into you

I'm trying 😭😭😭

I don't know who needs to hear this, but...

go finish your book!!!

(writer scrolls through Tumblr) (writer scrolls through Instagram) (writer enters Pinterest) (writer does the dishes) (writer cleans the desk)

I'm definitely going to use this for my novel

A Very Brief Outline of the Three-Act Structure

ACT 1

Readers are introduced to the hero’s world

A “call to adventure”or a disturbance interrupts the hero’s world

The hero may ignore the call or the disturbance

The hero “crosses the threshold” into a dark world

— POINT OF NO RETURN

ACT 2

A mentor may appear to teach the hero

Various encounters occur with forces of darkness

Thehero has a dark moment within hinself that he must overcome

A talisman aids in battle

— POINT OF NO RETURN

Act 3

The final battle is fought

The hero returns to his own world

If you like my blog, buy me a coffee☕ and find me on instagram! 📸

The Wildflower

Summary: A special pollen gives our two favorite peackeepers a bit of an awakening.

I can't believe I've been reduced to this. Me: a Snow, reduced to wallowing in the forest with a district boy, looking for a flower. Meanwhile of course Sejanus is practically skipping with joy at my side. He wraps an arm around my shoulders in what I can only assume he thinks is comradery. It takes everything in me not to toss it off. "A whole Saturday to ourselves Coryo!" He cheers, grinning ear to ear. I can't help but roll my eyes at his enthusiasm.

"Yes, a whole Saturday to waste away in the woods to look for- what was it again?" Sejanus pauses for a moment, dragging me to a halt with him before giving a dopey smile in remembrance. "Aphroho-homo-" Sejanus stutters. Something he's never done before.

"Aphrohomosia." I finish for him. I look at Sejanus and he flashes me another dopey smile. "Yeah! Thanks Coryo!" He shouts tone-deafly before restarting his search for the flower, turning his head to-and-fro.

I sigh before doing the same (though in a much more civilized manner) the sooner we find the floor the soon we can leave this awful forest.

I don't leave Sejanus' side as I scan my eyes across the forest floor. Something just felt wrong about leaving his side. Just the thought leaves me feeling uncomfortable. When have I ever been this attached to anybody? Nonetheless Sejanus?

I shake myself out of this rev-rev daze- and focus on the task at hand. Several minutes go by and I find myself feeling lightheaded, like I can't even piece a thought together. "Sejanus do you feel lightheaded right now?" No response.

"Sejanus?" After he doesn't respond again I sluggishly elbow him. The first thing I notice when he turns around isn't the idiotic grin that he's grown to wear, but the enormous, throbbing erection in his trousers. My head feels worse than before, instead of not being able to piece them together it's like they're slipping out of my- my uhmm- what was the pink thing called again?

Suddenly I notice Sejanus tugging off the stuff covering that juicy, lengthy cock. "What doing?" I ask him. Although I can't say I'm complaining if the size of my boner is anything to go by. Sejanus is now in nothing but his undershorts,, his massive bulging member poking through the slit and exposed for the whole world to see. Sejanus giggles childishly. "Clothes is tight. I likes the wind on my cock!"

Now I'm giggling back and tugging at my belt and shirt. Suddenly we're both in our underwear, giggling together in the woods. I look at Sejanus, his sculpted abs, his strong girthy arms. He really was the perfect man.

I bend down and kiss hus length, savoring the taste of the pre-cum that drools out like syrup. I briefly think about a flower with a long name that we were supposed to find but like all the other ones this thought slowly peels and falls away like petals. As I take my boyfriends entire cock into my mouth I find myself cumming onto the forest floor. I giggle at the feeling of how empty my head is. Isn't it great that we were sent here?

The End!

Yandere Luke Headcanons

He stalks you. This man is dead with all of eternity on his hands and he plans on spending every single second with you.

He'll teleport in during class and say the most sexually obscene things ever, leaving you bumbling and blushing.

Luke haunts anybody that looks at you the wrong way, those who are actually ballsy enough to talk you often leave town soon after.

He's extremely bipolar with his affection. One moment he's being sweet and flirty, then a guy walks by and greets you and suddenly he's screaming in your face, asking why you don't love him enough.

He'll take off his shirt or sometimes even his pants as well in public mid-conversation just to see how you react.

When you're thoroughly flushed he'll blip his clothes back on and continue the conversation. Though with a new smug smirk.

Being from the 90s, Luke is still a little old-fashioned.

He often let's little comments slip about how he's "surprised you didn't enjoy home ec more, being a girl and all"

If he was still alive he would've tried to marry you the moment you graduated

He loves having you around when he's writing his songs. He likes to comb his hands through your hair while you're laying in his lap or use you as an audience.

That's all folks!

Just found a greattt fanfic on ao3 by WhimofaVim called Don't F**ck Your Coworkers with everything I mentioned previously. It's also Heffie, 48 chapters and unfinished. I highly recommend.

I would honestly love an AU of Lucy Grey as First Lady of Panem and her being apart of the revolution, mentoring, etc. I've read a few fics on good old Ao3 but they're all pretty short. Any recs? I might just write it myself and post on here and wattpad