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ikonxmx · 5 years

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Coke n’ Hennessy Pt. 1 | Jaehyun [M]

Jaehyun spends the night with a beautiful bartender after a really bad break up. Jaehyun x Fem Reader. Inspired by Coke & Henny Pt 1. By Pink Sweat$

Word Count: 4,569 (well damn)

Warnings: Non-Idol AU. Mentions of post-breakup depression. Mentions of unhealthy coping. Mentions of alcohol consumption. Handjob. Fingering. Spanking (light). Dirty talk. Praise. Vulgar language. (Safe 😎) Sexual and suggestive themes throughout.

This is my first post for an NCT member and I’m pretty excited about it. Hopefully, all of you will enjoy it. Also please note, it’s 2 AM in California and I didn't proofread.

Rowdy drunk screeches make up the soundtrack of the night. Jaehyun had begrudgingly agreed to join his friends at the bar for a night of baseball and getting shit faced. Under normal circumstances he would have declined their less than enticing offer, but... he’s desperate. He’d been holed in his tiny one-bedroom apartment for the better part of two months, only emerging from his cave of self-deprivation and pity to obtain food. He was desperate for interaction that wasn’t through the mouthpiece of his headset and didn’t consist of flanking strategies or opponent locations being shouted at volumes so high they were almost inaudible.

The seductive lure of alcohol had also played a part in his agreeance. He hasn’t taken a drink since the night his ex dumped him, choosing to instead utilize games and food as his vices. They worked fine enough, but religiously eating a tub of cheese balls and drinking 2 cans of Red Bull a day combined with only leaving the couch for bathroom breaks and quick trips for more cheese balls had definitely taken a visible toll on his health. He broke out in places he’d never thought getting pimples was possible, but there they were. And now here he is. In a social setting attempting to fight off his post-breakup depression and enjoy life again. A step in the right direction and a step toward the bar.

“Bartender,” he calls raising his hand in an attempt to catch the woman’s attention. Your attention.

It feels awkward, possibly because it’s been so long since he last stepped foot in a bar fully intending to have more than one drink.

You turn toward the sound of a voice and attempt to spot the unfamiliar face. You find him rather quickly, his hand in the air serving as the perfect guide. “There’s 3 ahead of you hun, I’ll be there shortly,” You smile.

Jaehyun nods and watches as you quickly take the orders of two people, create their drinks and accept their payment. You’re quick, and judging by the satisfied looks of the customers, you’re good too.

“What’re you having?” You ask, lifting your eyes from the current cocktail you’re creating to boar into Jaehyun’s.

He swallows thickly. It’s only been a couple of months since the last time he’s had a drink, but he’s suddenly unable to remember the names of the cocktails he loves with you staring at him so intently. He can’t tear his eyes away from your expectant ones. You’ve finished the drink you’d been working on, collected the payment for it, and started preparing the glass for his drink all while never looking away. Your eyes aren’t rushing him, just waiting.

“Y-you choose,” he finally stutters out, afraid that his sudden lapse in memory would mess up the flow you’ve come into.

You nod, “Light or dark?”

“Doesn’t matter.” Jaehyun had never really had much of a preference for one over the other. Alcohol was a means to get drunk, which type it is, lacks importance in comparison to the outcome.

He watches as you pull a can of soda from underneath the bar and a bottle from the shelf before mixing them in what looks like equal parts into the glass you’d prepared.

“You starting a tab?” your question as you hand him the drink. He shakes his head and hands you twenty dollars cash. “The drink was only $10. Let me grab your change.”

“Keep the change.” He says quickly before lifting the cup to his lips and taking in a bit through the straw.

“It’s Coke and Hennessy… in case you wanna order another.” You wink and place what would’ve been his change into the bar’s communal tip jar.

“You going to make a move, or just keep being a big tipper for the rest of the night?” Jaehyun’s friend Johnny playfully quips.

Jaehyun had been back to the bar five times in total, three for another drink and twice in between for a glass of water. Each time you had asked if he was ready to start a tab and each time he declined, leaving the change behind as your tip. Even when you had refused to charge him for water, he slipped five dollars into the tip jar and laughed quietly at your perplexed expression.

Jaehyun shrugs at Johnny, unsure of how to answer the question. Your drinks were good, but not ten dollar tip on a ten dollar drink good. He honestly can’t figure out why he keeps going back for more. It’s not like you’ve been giving him some crazy intricate cocktail the entire night, just soda mixed with liquor. It’s so simple. But he finds comfort in it. Or maybe your smile? The way your eyes light up when he tells you to keep the change? He’ll have to get another drink to be sure.

He returns to the bar, empty cup in hand and a broad grin adorning his face. You’re there. Though this time, as the bar has calmed down, you’re not rushing to take the next patron’s order. You’re talking to a man. Another bartender, Jaehyun assumes, the identical aprons would tell as much. Jaehyun waits for the conversation to end, not willing to interrupt. He can’t hear what’s being said, but it’s the first time he hasn't seen you smile the entirety of the night and figures it’s concerning something serious. Business perhaps? The topic’s not important to him, yet he’s still a bit curious. He twiddles his thumbs aimlessly as he waits, looking over the shelves to see the different kinds of alcohol and the random pieces of artwork scattered across the walls. He notices the bar doesn’t necessarily have a clear theme. It’s just dark… with red lights and a few large TV’s covering different sporting events. In fact, it's a bit run down. Why had his friends decided to come here? More baffling, why had you decided to work here?

“Hey,” A voice calls from directly in front of him, pulling Jaehyun from his stationary tour. It’s the male bartender you’d been speaking with. “What can I get you?” His smile is friendly, but not nearly as charming as yours Jaehyun notes disappointedly.

“Ah,” Jaehyun grabs the back of his neck awkwardly. “The um-”

“He’s not ordering anything else,” A voice cuts in from beside him. Jaehyun looks toward the sound and smiles as you come into view.

The male bartender chuckles, “Thought you were leaving.”

“I am,” You answer honestly. “Just taking him with me.”

Jaehyun’s eyes widen. You pull him by the arm toward one of the only empty tables. Neither of you bothers taking a seat opting to just rest your elbows on the high table instead.

“You’ve paid ninety dollars for four drinks and two glasses of water,” You tell him over the roar of cheering in the background.

Jaehyun nods, fully aware of how much money he’s wasted at the bar tonight.

You scoff, “I should’ve asked if you were a lightweight.”

Jaehyun smiles, “I’m not,” You look at him in disbelief. “Really,” He assures you.

You look at his face, trying your best to read him but coming up short. He’s handsome, even with his face flushed red from the alcohol and the three small pimples that had clearly made themselves comfortable on his chin. He’s got these dimples, and they make an appearance with even the slightest change in his expression. They’re an added bonus to his already nice smile, pairing well with his beaming ridiculously straight teeth.

“Are you sure?” You questioned again. Through the night you’d watched him interact with his friends as you would any other customer. As a bartender, you have to know when to cut someone off. You definitely questioned his sobriety level the moment he stuffed a tip into the communal jar for comp water.

“I’m fine,” He laughs, “A little buzzed at best. I honestly don’t think you put enough Hennessy in my coca-cola.”

It’s your turn to laugh, “I was worried about making sure there was enough coca-cola in your Hennessy.” You’d been more than generous with his drinks, most bartenders are for the big tippers.

The conversation dies a bit as you both silently shift your focus to the basketball game. Jaehyun undoubtedly prefers the sound of your voice over that of the announcers and turns back to you. It’s his turn to try and read you. And as expected he can’t. Why had you pulled him away from the bar? The other bartender more than likely would have informed him that shifts switched and he would’ve ordered his final drink. Did you notice his interest? Did you take an interest yourself? These questions and more swirled through Jaehyun’s head as he watched you watch the game. Your lips move but Jaehyun wasn’t listening.

“Sorry, what?” He leans in closer so that you don’t have to strain.

You move your lips to his ear, “Tell me your name.”

“Jaehyun,” he smiles. With all his excitement of finally getting to say more than four words to you, he’d almost forgotten you didn’t know each other's names. He asks you the same question in return and you answer with a smile.

“Wanna get out of here, Jaehyun?” Your smirk

That smirk could mean a million things. It easily pushes a hundred different scenarios into Jaehyun’s mind, and suddenly the flush on his face isn’t just because of the alcohol.

“And go where?” He asks shyly.

“The beach.”

Jaehyun’s car is nice. It’s decently clean inside and out, and it’s a newer model. 2018 at least. He doesn’t say anything when you request the keys. He’s aware that it's much safer for you to drive since you haven’t had anything to drink. Though he stands by the earlier attestation of his sobriety, he wouldn’t want to put anyone in danger should he be misgauging it.

The drive to the beach is 45 minutes long, but it feels like it passes in seconds. You and Jaehyun speak about everything from pets to the ice wall you both (jokingly) agree is totally being guarded by NASA storm troopers while a playlist of mellow pop songs plays in the background. It’s nice. Jaehyun hasn’t had a conversation so random yet pleasant in a really long time. You make him feel comfortable. Which is weird since he’s only known you for a few short hours. There’s something about your presence he finds comforting. He was able to feel it at the bar as well. Though you made him slightly nervous, you also eased those nerves.

You make it to the beach in one piece. Jaehyun has a wide grin on his face as he watches you park the car where the sand meets the land. “All good?” You question as you turn to him. Upon seeing his face you can’t help but mirror his smile. Jaehyun nods, assuring he’s fine and shifts around in the passenger seat. The two of you sit there for a while, the mellow pop hits lulling in the back finally being heard in the new silence.

“Why coke and Hennessy,” Jaehyun breaks the silence quickly, already missing the sound of your voice. He’d also been curious for a while. What about him made you choose that drink of all things?

“Honestly,” you begin, a small smile on your face. “It was the first thing to come to mind.” You admit. There’d been no real reason. He didn’t particularly strike you as someone who even likes dark alcohol. But you’d burnt out on making AMF’s pretty early, and cranberry juice was too far away for a Cranberry Vodka. The simple mix was the closest thing available and your line was beginning to pile up.

“I like the honesty,” He laughs. “And I liked the drink.”

“You kept coming back for the drink?” You smirk.

He shakes his head chucking softly, “If I was only going back for the drink I wouldn’t be here with you right now.”

“Is that right?”

“Absolutely.”

It goes quiet again for a short period of time. You speak up before Jaehyun can this time. “Should we take a walk on the beach?”

“If I can hold your hand…”

You laugh, “You can hold my hand.”

“Can I kiss you?” Jaehyun asks boldly.

You’re taken aback by the request. Sure he had hinted toward his attraction to you throughout the night, but nothing this blatant.

He chuckles at your expression and heats up in embarrassment. “Was that too forward?”

“No,” You admit quickly. It’s your turn to be embarrassed. You answered the question just a little too fast. “It wasn’t, you just… caught me a bit off guard.”

Jaehyun removes his seat belt and leans over the center console. You do the same and laugh as you come face to face with his cheeky grin.

“So can I kiss you?” Jaehyun asks again.

You reach a hand up the back of his neck and gently caress his cheek with your thumb. “No, but you can kiss me back.”

It’s so light that Jaehyun is confused about whether you’ve really kissed him or not. It takes a while for his brain to finally register the light pressure against his lips as yours. He returns the kiss, hands reaching up toward the back of your neck and pulling you closer. Just like that he’s leading the kiss. There’s a heavier pressure and slight neediness to it. Jaehyun hadn’t realized just how much he wanted to kiss you until now. Now that he is actually doing it, and you’re sighing against his lips, Jaehyun feels like a starved man finally getting food. He never wants this to end. He feels your lips part slightly and wastes no time experimentally dipping his tongue between them.

You give a small kitten lick of your own, interested in seeing just how this kiss will pan out. Your heart beats excitedly in your chest as you wait on Jaehyun’s next move. Another swipe of his tongue. You impatiently take the reigns, pulling him closer and pushing past his lips. Your tongues meet and Jaehyun moans. You can’t help the small smile that forms.

Jaehyun moves his free hand toward your waist, desperate for more. More of anything. He wants to feel you… hear you. Every small whimper or sigh you release hits his ears like the opening chords to his favorite song. He can’t help but feel excited. Jaehyun shifts uncomfortably in the passenger seat as his ‘excitement’ pushes against the confines of his jeans. There’s no subtly to it, he couldn’t be subtle if he tried right now. All he can hope is that you’re not offended by his body’s reaction.

You notice the second time he shifts and quickly reach your hand to the noticeable outline, eager to hear what sound he’ll make this time. You’re not disappointed. Your ears are met with a rather loud groan. You pull away to watch his face as you massage him over his jeans. It doesn’t take long for his skin to flush an even prettier shade of pink and his breathing to labor.

“The windows are going to fog,” You tease as you change your position to get a better grip.

Jaehyun throws his head back completely uncaring. He rushes his own hand down to his jeans, unbuttoning and unzipping them as quickly as he can. He grunts out his pleasure when your hand comes in contact with his hardened member over his boxer briefs. It’s one less layer between you, but it’s still not close enough. It still feels like he needs more. He reaches over, returning his hand to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, and crushing his lips to yours. His hips thrust into your palm, chasing the pleasure it provides.

You move your hand past his boxers and grip his uncovered hot flesh. He pulls away from your mouth with a loud moan.

“Fuck.” he pants against your lips.

“Feel good?” You tease as you speed up your fist.

“So fucking good,”

Every melodious moan, groan and sigh he releases heads directly to your core. Your need grows, starting in the pit of your stomach and pooling down until it reaches your damp underwear. “Jaehyun,” you whine his name in hopes of catching his attention but he’s far too enthralled in his own pleasure to notice. You whine louder, slowing your hand to a near stop simultaneously. Jaehyun’s head whips toward you and he lets out a whine of his own, his hips bucking up to chase the friction he’s losing.

“Please don’t stop,” He begs near tears.

You almost feel bad, but the ache between your thighs his whine causes pushes any sympathy you feel away.

“Touch me,” You demand, lifting up so you’re on your knees, leaning over the center console.

Jaehyun moans. Is this a dream? He’s wanted to touch you all night, but even with your hand down his pants, he didn’t have the confidence to reciprocate. Reaching a hand around he begins to run his fingers over your jean covered center. It’s hot to the touch and Jaehyun can feel your sex twitching with need. He gradually increases the pressure as he continues watching in awe as your hips push back to meet his fingers, grinding against the air and his digits.

He pulls his hand back, sprawling his palm across your ass and massaging the flesh before quickly lifting it and bringing it down. He isn’t sure how you’ll react to the blow but has high hopes you’ll be in agreeance. His worried nerves are eased upon hearing you release a deep sigh. So he continues, striking your ass again... And then again.

“You’re so wet,” He voices his observance, returning his fingers to your covered core. You’ve dampened your jeans, a clear sign of your arousal making an appearance through the thick material. “Want to feel you.”

You lift yourself up as much as you can, the hand on his dick abandoning its post in favor of your new mission. Undressing your lower half. You clumsily remove your shoes, socks, and jeans, and toss them to the back seat uncaringly. Jaehyun reaches over after your jeans have been removed and returns his hand to your core, the soaked material of your underwear immediately coating his fingers.

“So wet,” He sighs, reaching up and reconnecting your lips.

You kiss him back with fervor. His middle and ring fingers gracefully switch between sweeping through your covered folds and rubbing at your sensitive clit. You moan, desperate for more but much too embarrassed to beg.

Jaehyun isn’t one for begging, though he’s sure the please would sound gorgeous leaving your lips, he feels your body language is loud enough. You haven’t stopped moaning, your hips haven’t stopped moving, and you’ve taken a strong fondness to nibbling his bottom lip. Feeling the boldest he’s felt tonight, he wordlessly shifts the fabric of your panties to the side and slides a single digit into your heat.

“Shit,” He curses feeling a harsher bite.

“I’m sorry,” You moan pulling away, panting slightly. “Caught me off guard.”

He says nothing, instead opting to watch your face as his middle finger glides in and out of your sopping sex.

“I can’t believe how wet you are,” He admits.

You almost go to hide your face in embarrassment, but the intrusion of a second finger halts your actions. The pleasant stretch has you moaning out in bliss and pushing back to chase the fingers as they retract.

Jaehyun can feel your sex fluttering around his fingers as they enter you. It’s clear to him you’re enjoying yourself, the arousal coating his fingers serving as all the proof he needs. But, he can’t help but feel greedy for more. His fingers speed up and twist to reach every angle inside of your sopping center as he searches for the spongy flesh of your g-spot. You let him know as soon as he’s found it, doubling over and panting out a continuous mix of ‘right there' and ‘don’t stop’. It’s a bit awkward but he tries his best to keep the angle, watching you intently as he does. Your face is contorted in pleasure, lips parted, eyebrows knit, eyes sealed; you’re a complete masterpiece to Jaehyun. He’s not sure how you can get anymore more beautiful.

“I’m gonna cum,” You admit, grabbing at his thigh with one hand to anchor yourself. With your other hand, you reach back to your front and rub harsh circles against your clit. Your high hits suddenly and Jaehyun works you through it, never letting up his pace or changing from the spot he’s found until he’s sure you’ve finished. The hand you had used to help bring yourself to completion, swings up to join your other on Jaehyun’s thigh. Your eyes open, the blissful hayes of your orgasm slowly subsiding.

“So fucking sexy,” Jaehyun whines, shifting in his seat, his long-neglected erection straining harshly against the fabric of his underwear.

“Please tell me you have a condom,” You sigh. He reaches forward and pulls the lever to open his glove box. Sat neatly inside is an unopened pack of condoms. Your next sigh is one of relief. You swipe the condoms and reclose the compartment quickly. “Push the seat all the way back.” You instruct.

Jaehyun listens quickly, pulling the switch to send the seat back and catching you when you nearly lose your balance. He watches as you almost comically climb over the console and take a seat on his thigh. You struggle with the condom for a while before Jaehyun impatient takes the rubber from your hand and opens it himself.

You watch as he removes his dick from the confines of his boxer briefs and slowly rolls the condom down his erect length. He pumps himself a few times once the condom is on, making sure it’s on the right way and that friction won’t cause any air pockets to form. Feeling confident enough with his application, you grip his wrist and remove his hand. A swing of your leg and you’re straddling him, your heated and soaking center just above this throbbing cock.

All he needs to do is line up your center with his member and slide into your sex, everything he desires at this moment is within grasp, but he can’t bring himself to make the move. Everything tonight has been your call, and for some reason, Jaehyun likes it that way. You chose his drink, you chose to come to the beach, you had him get you off first… Why end that now? He moves a hand to your wait in preparation but doesn’t make another move. His eyes are glued to where you two sexes meet, watching as your juices glisten over your folds and his dick jumps in anticipation.

You place a hand on his shoulder to steady yourself and use the other hand to reach for his cock. A small drop in your hips sends his length sliding against your folds. You watch with a small smile as Jaehyun furrows his eyebrows. Another more precise drop has his tip entering your heat. He sighs a bit and tightens his grip on your waist. You continue, drop after drop, easing his thick length into you bit by bit.

Jaehyun’s toes curl as you lift yourself up, your walls squeezing him so tightly he feels like he could cum any minute. He wants so badly for this experience to last. There's an amazingly beautiful woman sat on top of his dick, moaning as she takes what she can, and hissing as she tries to take more.

“Fuck,” You curse sliding yourself down again. “You’re so fucking big.”

“Your pussy is so wet,” Jaehyun moans. “Take some more, I know you can.”

You lift yourself up and drop again in an attempt to take more, but the stretch almost seems too much.

“Want my help?”

You nod, slightly exhausted from your earlier orgasm and exerting so much energy trying to fuck in such a tight space.

Jaehyun keeps his hold on your hips firm and raises his own up. He listens to every whine you let out as he slides more and more of himself into your sex, grunting out his own pleasure when he finally bottoms out inside you. He becomes less gentle. You feel too good to be gentle. As much as his mind yells at him to savor the moment and take things slow, his body is begging him to fuck you senseless.

“You feel so good,” He whines, tensing up at the feel of his impending end. He can’t cum yet. He’s just getting started. Jaehyun grounds his feet into the floor below him and picks up the pace.

“Oh shit,” You moan feeling him touch areas inside you you’re pretty sure no other man has. He feels amazing, the original sting of him stretching you has started to subside and is being replaced by insurmountable amounts of pleasure. Somehow your body is still greedy, begging for more. Although you’ve cum once already, it’s begging you for another. “You like the way my pussy feels?” You pant into his ear.

“Fuck yeah, so fucking wet,” He all but growls. Confidence being spurred by your dirty words, he picks up his pace again. “Your pussy’s gonna make me cum.”

“I wanna come on your cock,” You moan into his ear.

“Fuck,”

Jaehyun’s hips stutter at your words, the rhythm he’s come into suddenly getting lost.

“You want me to?” You question.

“Of course I do.”

You wordlessly bring his hand in between the two of you. He gets the hint and begins sloppily rubbing circles against your clit. You moan into his ear, pitch increasing bit by bit as you feel another climax approaching.

Jaehyun’s entire body is tense as he fights off the need to cum. He wants to feel your walls flutter around his cock the same way they did his fingers earlier. He wants you to cum first.

“Shit, Jaehyun. Fuck me harder,” You instruct. Jaehyun obeys rutting up into your sex with a fervor you’d yet to see from him tonight. “Oh fuck, just like that. I’m cumming!”

You walls clench and release around his length. The tension in Jaehyun’s body releases as he lets himself succumb to his own climax. He stills deep inside of you, filling the condom to the brim with his seed. Jaehyun can’t remember the last time he’s cum so hard. His hips twitch to prolong the pleasure, more cum leaving his exhausted body.

He collapses in the seat, chest rising and falling rapidly as he attempts to catch his breath. You’re doing the same, but can’t help but smile when you see his blissfully fucked out expression. You chuckle.

Jaehyun looks up at you, his cheeks turning that cute shade of pink again.

“Don’t get all shy now. Not when your dick is still inside me,” You tease.

“I don’t want to take it out,” Jaehyun admits with a laugh.

You lean down and peck his lips before raising yourself from his lap. He mock frowns.

“Think I should be driving you home now,” You say as you reach for your underwear in the backseat.

He grabs your hand, effectively stopping your movement and pulling your full attention to him.

“If you stay the night…”

END

I really hope you guys enjoyed, it took... so long. But, I feel way better now that it’s done! my first fic for an NCT member!! Time for some drabbles.

#nct smut #nct scenarios #jaehyun #jaehyun smut #kpop smut #kpop scenario #kpop scenarios #nct127 smut #nct 127 smut #jaehyun nct #nct jaehyun #nct127 scenarios #nct 127 scenarios #kpopsmut #kpop fanfic

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wreckofawriter · 4 years

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Hi I was wondering if i could get a ship. I’m a Ravenclaw. I only have like 3 friends cause i don’t really having ti deal with more than that. I also don’t speak unless I absolutely feel the need to in front of people unless they happen to be one of the 3 friends then I won’t shut up. I’m a very logical person. I spend most of my time reading or FaceTiming. And I’m not very athletic but the one thing I would do at hogwarts is play tag hide and seek with like 20 people. I’m also bi

I ship you with...

Lily Evans!

You met on the train to Hogwarts on your first year, you had been kind of nervous to go to Hogwarts and barley registered when a red headed girl asked to join your cabin

The raven haired boy that was with her did nothing but glare at you as Lily started a conversation with you

You glared back and replied quietly to Lily's questions, you liked her she was nice and never pressured you into a talking so you stuck by her even when you were voted into a different house

Lily and you studied, ate meals and did just about everything you could together. By second year you considered her your bestfriend

Snape hated you and you didnt particularly like him. The first time you ever blew up was when he called Lily a mudblood, you had a fit and ended up with detention for a month after putting him in the hospital wing

When Lily suddenly got popular you assumed she would ditch you. She didnt of course and you used her as a shield against social interactions

Lily was a bit too proud to be one of the few people you would willingly talk to, she was slightly smug about it

James Potter annoyed you to no end, you always fended off his daily harassment

You and Lily have some of the beat grades in all of your classes, you spend count sleepless nights together studying or just reading into the early hours of the morning

When you realised you liked her as a bit more than a friend you panicked before decied not to say a thing, you didnt want to ruin a perfect friendship

Lily knew that you really wanted to play games like Hide and Seek and Manhunt in the castle so she gathered a bunch of people and you spent that Saturday running around the castle

You ended up hiding together in a broom closet for almost 2 hours trying not to laugh

You almost fainted when Lily suddenly asked if she could kiss you, you could only manage to nod before she laid her lips on yours

You didnt exsactly love the attention that dating Lily brought to you but she was always sure to redirect it as much as possible

If anyone gave you shit for your relationship you would just flip them off and move on, the next day they would usually ended up covered in pimples or with an endless nose bleed curiously of James who was admittedly jealous but getting over it

You both ended up being head girls which meant you could get away with just about everything, especially since every teacher loved you both

Study dates were a constant, especially before big exams

Lily was still an extrovert shield you hid behind at parties and social events so you could read a book in peace

(Not Edited) ~ So sorry this took so long

#harry potter #harry potter imagines #harry potter au #harry potter imagine #harry potter ships #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter x reader #lily evans #lily evans x reader #lily evans imagine #lily evans ship

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writing-prompts-for-friends · 5 years

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Notes from Stephen King’s “On Writing” 05: Description, Dialogue, Creating Characters

Description

"Description begins in the writer's imagination, but should finish in the reader's."

We all know that too much description robs the reader of their imagination and bores them, yet too little description leaves them confused and scratching their heads. So how can we strike a middle ground with confidence?

"Good description is a learned skill, one of the prime reasons why you cannot succeed unless you read a lot and write a lot. It's not just a question of how to, you see; it's also a question of how much to. Reading will help you answer how much, and only reams of writing will help you with the how. You can learn only by doing."

King says that he personally doesn't like to provide detailed descriptions of how his characters look. He would rather have the reader supply their faces, builds, and clothing. To exemplify, he says:

"If I tell you that Carrie White is a high school outcast with a bad complexion and a fashion-victim wardrobe, I think you can do the rest, can't you? I don't need to give you a pimple-by-pimple, skirt-by-skirt rundown. We all remember one or more high school losers, after all; if I describe mine, it freezes out yours, and I lose a little bit of the bond of understand I want to forge between us. Description begins in the writer's imagination, but should finish in the reader's."

Maybe it's because now more than ever we are obsessed with visual media, be it TV or film or social media, but I personally feel a need to give detailed physical descriptions of my characters. Does anyone else feel the same? But what King said really made a lot of sense to me--by keeping the descriptions of the characters non-distinct, we allow the readers to fill in the gaps and make a character that is even more relatable to them. I think that's genius.

On the other hand, King feels that locale and texture are more important to the reader's sense of actually being in the story. Describe the region the story takes place in (but don't go full Tolkein on your readers, please). Paint a picture of the house and town in broad, distinct strokes.

"For me, good description usually consists of a few well-chosen details that will stand for everything else. In most cases, these details will be the first ones that come to mind. Certainly they will do for a start. If you decide later on that you'd like to change, add, or delete, you can do so--it's what rewrite was invented for. But I think you will find that, in most cases, your first visualized details will be the truest and best. It's as easy to overdescribe as it is to underdescribe. Probably easier."

So let's say that you want to use a certain real-life restaurant as the setting of a scene in your story. This is a restaurant that you have actually frequented. Now close your eyes and picture that place. What are the first 4-5 things that come to your mind? Could be how to looks or smells, what sort of clientele is usually there, anything. Take those 4-5 details and only use those to describe the place in your writing. Let the reader do the rest of the work.

"In many cases when a reader puts a story aside because it 'got boring,' the boredom arose because the writer grew enchanted with his powers of description and lost sight of his priority, which is to keep the ball rolling."

Oh man, I really agree with this. I quit reading LotR because I just couldn't force myself through another description of goddamn rivers and valleys.

On the Use of Similes

"When it's on target, a simile delights us in much the same way meeting an old friend in a crowd of strangers does."

When we compare two seemingly unrelated objects, we are sometimes able to see an old thing in a new and vivid way. But you have to make sure that the simile makes sense and isn't cliched. Don't use "he ran like a madman" or something. Come up with your own.

"The key to good description begins with clear seeing and ends with clear writing, the kind of writing that employs fresh images and simple vocabulary."

There are a lot of authors that do a great job describing things like king says, but there is one specific line from Neil Gaiman's Coraline that stands out to me. Coraline has just discovered the hallway that leads to the Other House, and the sentence describes the hall.

"It smelled like something very old and slow."

Simple vocabulary, yet very fresh. I love this sentence and its eeriness.

Dialogue

"It's dialogue that gives your cast their voices, and is crucial in defining their characters--only what people do tells us more about what they're like, and talk is sneaky: what people say often conveys their character to others in ways of which they--the speakers--are completely unaware."

You can explain through narration or backstory that a character didn't do well in school or didn't finish it, but you could also demonstrate that through dialogue. Conversely, you can show just how smart they are, or how honest/dishonest, lighthearted/serious they are through dialogue alone.

Have you ever read dialogue that makes you think, "Man, nobody talks like this!" because it feels so stilted or forced? I'm certain you have. So how can we prevent ourselves from crafting dialogue that feels inauthentic?

"Dialogue is a skill best learned by people who enjoy talking and listening to others--particularly listening."

Picking up the accents, rhythms, dialect, and slang of various groups helps give your writing a certain veracity that readers pick up on instinctually.

A Word on Political Correctness in Dialogue/Characters

"As with all other aspects of fiction, the key to writing good dialogue is honesty."

King says that not a week goes by that he doesn't get an angry letter accusing him of being foul-mouthed, bigoted, homophobic, murderous, frivolous, or downright psychopathic, and usually the people writing these letters are upset about certain lines of dialogue within his stories.

Sometimes you are going to have a character that holds unpleasant opinions and uses unpleasant words to get them across. That doesn't necessarily mean that what the character believes/says is what you believe. And, in my own opinion, I think it is important to have these non-pc characters in our stories. How can we combat ignorance if we do not draw attention to it? Sweeping it under the rug does nothing but prolong the problem.

So if a character is prone to swearing, don't substitute their expletives for words like "shoot" or "dang." Have them say "shit" or "damn." If a character is a homophobe, have them vocalize their sentiments if the scene deems it appropriate. Don't censor your characters.

Building Characters

"The job of building characters in fiction boils down to two things: paying attention to how the real people around you behave and then telling the truth about what you see."

Take note of the people around you. Many fictional characters are drawn piece by piece from people in real life. For King, what happens to his characters as the story progresses depends solely on what he discovers about them as he goes along. Sometimes their character grows only a little. But other times, their characters grow a so much that they influence the course of the story instead of the other way around.

"I think the best stories always end up being about people rather than the event, which is to say character-driven. Once you get beyond the short story, though (two to four thousand words, let's say), I'm not much of a believer in the so-called character study; I think in the end, the story should always be the boss."

Most readers want to see not only a progression in plot, but also in character development, so trying to have both of those is important.

"It's also important to remember that no one is 'the bad guy' or 'the best friend' or 'the whore with a heart of gold' in real life; in real life we each of us regard ourselves as the main character, the protagonist. If you can bring this attitude into your fiction, you may not find it easier to create brilliant characters, but it will be harder for you to create the sort of one-dimensional dopes that populate so much of pop fiction."

King goes on to explain how when he wrote Misery, a novel about a crazy nurse who holds her favorite author Paul Sheldon hostage in her remote house, he went to great lengths to give the reader a view of the nurse Annie Wilkes' perspective. To us, she seems psychopathic. But to her, she seems perfectly sane and reasonable.

"If I can make you understand her madness--then perhaps I can make her someone you sympathize with or even identify with. The result? She's more frightening than ever, because she's close to real. If, on the other hand, I turn her into a cackling old crone, she's just another pop-up bogeylady. In that case, I lose bigtime, and so does the reader. Who would want to visit with such a stale shrew? That version of Annie was old when The Wizard of Oz was in its first run."

What is really boils down to is making sure that each of your characters are three-dimensional within your own mind. As long as they feel like real people in your head, capable of making rational decisions and feeling rational emotion (as fits their unique nature), that should be able to be seen by the reader as the story unfolds.

On Creative Liberties

“Try any goddamn thing you like, no matter how boringly normal or outrageous. If it works, fine. If it doesn’t toss it. Toss it even if you love it. Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch once said, ‘Murder your darlings,’ and he was right.”

Write however you want. Use whatever techniques you want. Have fun with it. It’s yours before it is anybody else’s. And you can’t please all the readers all the time, but if you can come out happy with the end product, surely you can please some of the readers some of the time, and that is enough.

Source: King, Stephen. On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft. Hodder, 2012.

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eldritchsurveys · 4 years

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800.

Have you ever left your front door unlocked all night? >> Most likely not, since Sparrow usually checks to make sure it’s locked at some point before going to bed. If it were solely up to me, there probably would be a couple of times that it ended up left unlocked just because I’d forget to check it. To be fair, for all my annoyance at living in this complex, it’s pretty crime-free.

Do you prefer cold or warm weather? >> I prefer warm weather.

The last advertisement you saw: What was it advertising? >> I don’t remember, because I don’t pay attention to advertising -- it kind of just goes in one ear and out the other. I have no choice but to be exposed to it, ubiquitous as it is, but I don’t have to focus on it.

Do you prefer bar or liquid soap? >> Bar soap for showering, liquid soap for hand-washing.

Do you wear any perfumes / colognes on a regular basis? >> No, I have one roll-on oil that I wear when going out but “going out” is not a common event these days, yaknow.

Do you have high or low self esteem levels? >> My self-conception varies. Which is better than it used to be -- at least variation allows for days when I don’t feel like total shit about myself, unlike before.

When was the last time you listened to a song on repeat? What was the song? >> A few weeks ago, and the song was You Ain’t Coming Back by Zeal & Ardor.

How do you feel about being in the house alone? >> I love being in the house alone, it’s so comfortable and relaxing for me.

What was the last compliment you received? >> I don’t remember.

Do you like mint or orange flavored chocolate? >> Mint-flavoured, sure. I don’t know about orange-flavoured, that always threw me off conceptually so I never tried it.

How often do you get spots? Like, pimples? >> Infrequently.

Do you believe that when your ears burn someone is talking about you? >> Well, my ears never burn, so does that mean no one is ever talking about me? Seems unlikely.

Are you a good host when visitors come over or do you wish they’d leave? >> Visitors don’t come over, so I don’t ever have to worry about shoving aside my need to exist freely in my own space.

When was the last time you burnt your mouth from eating something too hot? >> About a week ago. Burritos are great for this, lmao. -__-’

What is your favorite foreign language to listen to? (In music or speech) >> I don’t have a favourite. I like listening to any language.

Do you prefer instrumental songs or ones with lyrics? >> Most of the songs I listen to have lyrics, but there are plenty of songs I love that don’t.

Name something simple that makes you happy. >> Seeing a flower I’ve never seen before while out on a walk.

What is your favorite instrument to listen to? >> How could I possibly choose... besides, it’s usually the interaction between multiple instruments that I really love.

Pick one: Books, movies or music? >> Why would I ever do that.

Do you carry a bag around with you often? What does it look like? >> I avoid carrying anything with me as often as possible. When I do have to carry a bag, it’s usually my black tote bag with a red futhark pattern on it.

Do you like your natural hair color? >> It’s fine.

Do you delete your emails / texts often? >> Yeah, I’m really diligent about keeping my email inbox organised and as empty as possible.

What was the last book you read about? >> The last book I finished was a series of stories, some of which were connected (I think some say all of them are connected? but I’m not sure I see it). The first few of them were mindfucky horror stories, and then it kind of slides into some romance-y stuff and I think the last couple of stories are just straight-up slice-of-life/romance type fare. I say “I think” because I got like 3 pages into the first of those stories and was like “okay no this isn’t what I’m here for, I think I’m done with this book now”.

What color are the walls in the room you’re in? This is the question of the week. <-- for real...

Did you dress up last Halloween? As what? >> I did dress up, but not in the Halloween-costume sense -- I wore a very pretty outfit because we were in New Orleans and even just dressing up goth-style is still in the spirit of the holiday. I did want to dress up in a costume, but I couldn’t find one to wear (and I didn’t have the time or focus to, like, make one up).

Do you have any old friends who you still kinda speak to but it’s awkward? >> No.

Name one of your favorite memories. >> I went to see Steve Vai in concert during the peak of my obsession with him and on the last song (which was my favourite of his) he winked at me whilst playing his guitar with his tongue.

Are you a polite person? >> I don’t really know, since it’s not a priority of mine or anything. I’m not particularly rude, but I also don’t go out of my way to perform various little social niceties and things that people of certain cultural persuasions (Midwesterners, for example) would consider “polite”. So some people think me rude because of that. Personally, I figure as long as I’m treating people with basic respect and dignity, I’m all right.

When was the last time you used a quote from a movie in real life? >> I don’t remember.

Have you ever used a chat-up line that actually worked? >> No, I don’t use those.

Can you put your legs behind your head? >> Nope.

Do you forget things easily? >> Not usually, but it happens on occasion. Like putting something down while distracted and then immediately forgetting where I put it.

The last song you listened to: Did it have a male or female vocalist? >> Baroness has a male vocalist.

Is the heating on in your house currently? >> Nope, although ngl, this morning I almost wished it was. Almost.

Do you often find toothpaste too minty? >> I guess some brands would strike me that way. Not the kind I use.

Have you ever had braces? Do you need them? >> No and no.

Are you a subscriber to any magazines? Which? >> Yeah, GameInformer through my GameStop rewards program membership. I kind of just got used to getting the magazines so I keep my membership even though I rarely buy anything at GameStop.

What does your voice sound like? (Loud, quiet, high pitched, etc) >> Lower-pitched and quieter than most people’s (I know this because I’m constantly being asked to repeat myself and also am often overridden in group conversations unless I put some bass in my voice and project it halfway ‘cross the damn room).

#surveys #survey #random survey

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shijiujun · 5 years

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ICYMI - some Chris news

so hahahaha as always I camp on weibo on the days before the fanmeet and during the fanmeet - and anyway so something happened yesterday in case anyone is interested to know:

chris just added yesterday on his instagram profile that ‘modification and reupload, and creation of any products (with his photos) without permission isn’t allowed’

so my first thought is - totally fair, about time, i mean that’s what we all do with our own uploads right, and copyright issues - he does own his damn photos and whatever he says about it, it’s totally fine

and then what erupted on weibo was:

1. strangely, some of his fans started to blame his manager? like i don’t even mean like calling her a bitch or anything (although there was that) but all out in like 100 words and more saying that she’s a really incompetent manager, and how did someone like her ever get to manage chris, and how she’s chasing away all of chris’ fans and you get the drift - basically okay so i’m sure they’ve been unhappy with his manager (for whatever reasons) for a while now and the fans claim that she’s been terrible all along but gosh the point is, they started bashing her online - i mean, it takes A LOT OF MENTAL ACROBATICS to link that disclaimer on his instagram post to her - this is so reminiscent of the bashing on director lee over ep 17 gosh

2. AND TAGGING CHRIS ON WEIBO ON THESE POSTS BASHING HER?!!!! okay literally NO ONE knows what’s going on between him and his manager, and unless you know him personally you literally got no right to talk shit AND TAG HIM about the woman who literally takes care of his every job and gets him resources and supports him at events and every shooting ever - apparently she left her previous mgmt company to follow chris to this new company if I didn’t read it wrong

3. and then, some fans started bashing CHRIS HIMSELF? i saw this one weibo message listing out like 6 point on what he did wrong with posting that disclaimer, even going as far as to say “do you know why you don’t have as many likes on your uploads as jake’s? it’s because you do stuff like this and you don’t know how to market yourself and keep pushing your fans away, and also because u have a shitty manager” (something along these lines, you get my point) - and not only that, they tagged chris in that bashing note like... what’s the point?!!! the worst thing was they started to say that he’s not being a very nice person and that obviously with this he doesn’t care for the fans etc. (and come on we all know what kind of person chris is)

4. some fans took offence because - when a lot of fansite admins give out free stuff to other fans at fanmeets, they of course do take some of the photos from his social media and andy’s and kenny’s and jake’s to print photocards etc. and idk why some fans started to say that basically the disclaimer means he has a problem with these freebies being handed out with his photos on them etc., and because of this they say him and his manager are purposely chasing away his fans (goshhhhh), even at the taipei fanmeeting apparently some fans also, after seeing the freebies being given out, were also concerned about copyright issues but i mean, there wasn’t a huge hoo-hah about it because this happens all the time and the fansite admins are doing this mostly for free

5. so chris was in hangzhou when this all happened right, i think he literally just arrived in hangzhou when the comments started appearing, and a lot of other fans were like ‘you guys know that chris likes to hang out and read through all the messages on the history3 topic board on weibo right, why are you guys putting up so many hurtful messages?’- if you guys dont have weibo, it’s like china’s version of twitter but with like topic boards? so history3 has a huge topic board there and if you mention it your ‘tweet’ appears there

6. and lo and behold, during today’s fanmeet, the host actually put aside some time during the talking segment so that chris could explain himself (think it was nice of the host to do that and the way he said it even tho chris might have asked for the opportunity to explain himself) - and omg his face-

he LEGIT starts off by saying ‘so i think some of you have misunderstood me so i wanted to take the opportunity to talk about it’ and he looked so pitiful and sad and looking like he was trying not to cry (okay i don’t think he was gonna cry but he did look a little distressed but had to smile through it)

and then he clarified that he’s very happy for his fans to reupload his photos, “to photoshop away that pimple on his face” etc., that’s totally fine (so basically saying that the disclaimer was never aimed at these fans)

he heard some rumors that people have been selling stuff with his social media photos on them and basically some fans might get cheated by these people right

and thus, the whole debate on weibo was for nothing because he’s concerned that fans are getting cheated and he was kind of taking steps to ensure that no one would pay money for basically non-official merchandise (and yes of course to protect his own copyright which i feel is totally fine)

the audience was pretty supportive - they kept things like ‘we believe you’ etc. at him but while he was talking so LOL he had to actually stop and go “okay guys, please let me finish talking first”

and at the end of it he said, “so i hope you guys don’t misunderstand me anymore”

hahaha so this was just what happened over these two days - and I’m just kinda appalled that this snowballed into such a huge thing that chris himself had to come out and explain it? it’s so common for any of us to put ‘don’t repost’ or ‘any work here done is mine’ or ‘photos are ours’ etc. and we understand because ownership right - so to bash chris and his manager for that... i’m a little mindblown, and then for chris to have to even explain himself about this, it’s totally ridiculous because those photos literally are his, he can do whatever he wants with them with the reuploads and modifications etc.

some level-headed chinese fans came out in defense of him by having to literally explain what ‘copyright’ means LOL - and actually as long as money isn’t involved, and you don’t use his stuff for commercial purposes without permission, more or less everyone closes an eye and allows it

finally, we all know what a sweetheart chris is?!!! i mean we don’t know him personally at all but he’s so sincere to his fans, i can’t imagine him turning on his fans in any disrespectful way and for no reason whatsoever because he’s so grateful to have all his fans after having a few tough years

and once again, this is why we can’t have nice things

#history 3: 圈套 #history3: trapped #history3圈套 #fandom freakouts #trapped news desk #chris wu #hangzhou fanmeet

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madscientistjournal · 5 years

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Fiction: In Communion with the Invisible Flock: Erasmus Karl and the Nidificant Manuscript

An essay by Luisa Sontag, as provided by George Salis Art by Leigh Legler

“If thy heart were a nest, thou would begat many birds.” –The Purloined Philosophia by Boris of Aventaria

There has been much controversy, even mythology, surrounding the so-called “nidificant manuscript.” A few notables, including the biolinguist Norman Mast, have clamored to call it “an anachronistic masterpiece of scientific literature” (34), suggesting it has been passed down to us from the future, or an alternate past. Many others have deemed the work “a hoax of adolescent caliber” (Mare 25). But by studying the work and delineating its influence on human society, we can say that the truth exists somewhere between fantastic worship and ignorant dismissal. First of all, we know that this some 1,600-page manuscript was composed in the early 19th century by the naturalist, or “supernaturalist,” Erasmus Karl, and details the existence of a species of bird-human that inhabits an archipelago called the Beak-born Islands. A number of its pages include baroque maps of the islands in question, along with illustrations of alien flora and fauna and, most importantly and prominently, the winged beings themselves.

This year marks the 150th anniversary since the first bottle, containing a page of Karl’s manuscript, was discovered, specifically between the pincers of a bleached crab on the coast of Budva, Montenegro. This, the method in which Karl “published” the manuscript, has only added to the idiosyncrasy that has either converted or disgusted relevant experts. Each and every page was rolled into its own bottle and cast into the sea. During the intervening century and a half, around a dozen bottles washed ashore on all countries with a seaside (their contents now published en masse for the first time). The bottles were molded with aid of fire from a translucent shell later identified in the manuscript as a “Clay Conch, a most copious & convenient Resource of Nature.” Ascertaining the location of the archipelago based on the appearance of the bottles has proved to be impossible, and the results obtained by oceanographers inexplicably suggest that the islands are capable of nautical mobility, like a flock, perhaps with occasional murmurations. Because bottled pages are still being discovered almost every month, the nidificant manuscript is most definitely incomplete, its prospective length up for debate. Some have purported that an infinite number of bottles will find their way to land, that they will continue to do so far after human civilization is but dust.

The Wind Calleth: A Brief Biography of Erasmus Karl

Before I begin my exploration of the manuscript and its influence on human society, I find it necessary to relate what is known of Erasmus Karl’s life. Born in the Netherlands circa 1770, his mother was appalled at newborn baby Karl’s full head of white feathery hair, his thin, elongated body, and the downy web between his taloned fingertips. She blamed the sins of the unknown father, while others whispered that Karl’s appearance was the byproduct of a professionally prurient mother. Regardless of their origin, the unfortunate mutations condemned Karl as an outcast, something to be shooed, ogled, or at best tolerated. It wasn’t long until young Karl despised his reflection, taking extreme measures to change it, as is written in his unpublished journals. First he shorn his hair, which highlighted his teardrop-shaped skull, then he filed his fingernails, sometimes with such desperation that he exposed and bloodied the nail beds, and finally he searched for a type of glove that could hide the finger webbings. Deeming the search futile, he excised the vein-thin skin as if it were the film on a Dutch custard. He bled profusely the first time, but afterward it was merely a matter of maintaining the V-shaped scabs.

Aside from his repelling physical characteristics, Karl was a relatively normal and healthy young boy, until, later in school, he became obsessed with nests, spurred by one he had witnessed being constructed outside his bedroom window. He was amazed to see it built with not just twigs and leaves, but clothespins, apple slices, strands of a stranger’s hair, the string from a cup-and-ball, and other miscellaneous objects. The peculiarity of it inspired him to craft his own nests, which he planted, waiting for random birds to make them home. Impatient, he began to track down authentic nests in trees and the nooks of buildings and replace them with his synthetic ones. Some of his nests resembled the real thing, while others were of odd shapes, pyramids and Klein bottles, or made from strange materials, such as quasicrystals and gaseous gelatins. He was compelled to record the birds’ reactions to their new homes. Some of them simply moved elsewhere, while others were driven to infanticide, either eating their younglings or dashing their unhatched shells against rocks. He was further horrified to discover that sphere-shaped nests of chlorophyll caused the birds’ wings to deteriorate into stubs but was later pleased to determine that alabaster dodecahedrons produced birds with wingspans up to five feet. Other nests also seemed to have a positive effect, causing the inhabitants to sing more beautifully, to love their chirping chicks more so than ever before.

Being neglected by his mother, and without a father, the young Karl couldn’t help but wonder why humans didn’t live in similar nests of compassion, and through some such lines of logic he extrapolated that certain humans do live in those nests, bird-humans that exist in isolation from the rest of the world, on top of a mountain higher than Olympus, or on an island better concealed than Atlantis. Thereafter, he dedicated his time to further study of all birds while simultaneously looking for clues as to the whereabouts of the theoretical bird-humans, whom he soon thought of as his vanished ancestors.

Hence the term “nidificant manuscript,” the adjective coming from the Latin nīdificāre, meaning “to nest” or “to build a nest,” the impetus of his life’s work. There is an irony here, in which the curse is also the gift, or vice versa. This is embodied most of all in events that occurred in the final years of Karl’s formal education. Bullying became a constant impediment to Karl’s mental stability. When required to change into athletic wear, the other boys gagged at Karl’s mangled hands, smacked him on his goose-pimpled scalp, and poked him between his peninsular ribs. They spread rumors, asserting that his mother never carried him in her belly, but incubated a yellow-spotted egg for nine months, after having performed coitus with a chicken. Enveloped in that negative atmosphere, an incident brewed. Some said Karl wanted to defy the rumors, transcend them, while others said he wanted to reinforce them, integrate them as a form of truth. Whatever his beliefs or intentions at the time, he found himself standing at the edge of the school building’s roof and, after yelling something, he jumped off, falling two stories as he flapped his phalanges. The webbing between his fingers had been regrown, which suggests experiment on Karl’s part, yet a few witnesses reported that he was thrown off by a group of bullies and had no desire to fly. After being carried on a stretcher to the hospital, he was diagnosed with a broken hip and a slight fracture of the femur. During his bedridden months following an operation, he would repeat the following phrase, sometimes in a slow whisper, other times so loudly and quickly it sounded less like words and more like squawking: “The Wind calleth!” “The Wind calleth!” Such is also what he presumably shouted before his failed “experiment.” One of the nurses claimed that when she put an ear to his bedroom door during those more boisterous moments of layered chanting, the birds outside his window squawked in response, initiating conversations that ceased the second she knocked.

It is thought that those cross-species conversations provided the first clues Karl needed to find the bird-humans (whom he subsequently labeled Homo sapiens avis: “wise bird man”). Not much is known of his life after he recovered from his fall. He did drop out of school in favor of more private research, and afterward his mother formally disowned him, wanting to distance herself as much as possible from his reputation for eccentric and anti-social behavior. He was rarely seen outside the wooden dome he built for himself at the edge of the forest. The few papers he attempted to publish in those early years are lost. We know only the title of one as it appeared in a letter of rejection: “The Nidus & the Fowl: Mutations of Mind & Body by way of Avian Architecture.” A decade later, in 1801, Karl’s “nest” was noticed as dilapidated by curious locals, who peered inside to find a mass of miasmic ingredients and piles of hastily scribbled notes, some of which might have contained proto-maps. Tucked in the walls of the nest as if part of the very structure were items pilfered or “recycled,” such as human hair, newspapers, jewelry, and a pair of dirty women’s underwear. There was no sign of Karl himself. Astounded and infuriated, the locals thought the nest a bastion of black magic and quickly burned it. They also assumed that the witchery had consumed the practitioner, that a cacodaemon snatched Karl from his bed at night. In truth, once Karl’s preliminary research was completed, he left for the Beak-born Islands, an archipelago consisting of four large islands and some thirteen islets. Viewed from above, they vaguely form the shape of a bird’s beak.

It is a mystery as to how Karl made it to the Beak-born Islands, though some allege that for part of his journey, he sailed with the crew of an unnamed British schooner, where he learned English. Whether true or not, it is generally believed that he never left the archipelago. As I will explain in detail later, the Beak-born Islands were his one true home, his “rapturous Nest” (47). Reinforcing the settlement theory, Karl became proficient in their immensely difficult language: “Subsequently bonding with these avian Beings as though I too were bless’d with Wings, I learn’d Their Language, a coalescence of shrill & protract’d Clicks, but with myriad Quavers & what can only be describ’d as Loops & Spirals, tallying a Complexity unheard of in any contemporary Language. Aye, One could only do these Beings Justness by chronicling Them in Their own sacr’d Tongue” (vi-vii). Which explains why some of the manuscript’s pages include cryptographic ink marks consisting of curlicues, crests and troughs, and hypnotic helixes. Translators have yet to decipher them. But, as we will see, even though we can read a majority of the manuscript, it still births many more questions than it answers.

Begetting Many Birds: The Winged Beings and their Influence on Human Society

Some of the questions that the manuscript creates are due to the nature of history, others the nature of science. Yet most, perhaps, are the product of the nature of Nature. For example, it remains to be determined as to why, throughout the manuscript, we are given numerous descriptions and illustrations of the beings’ wings, all of which contradict each other: “The foremost Magnetism of Their pseudo-primitive Rituals were indubitably the arcing Wings, resplendent with feather’d Colors the like of which no Man has ever laid Eyes upon” (261), “& when They alight on the sheer Tips of Their two-digit’d Feet They fold Their iridescent, scaly Wings & seem well-nigh Human, for as cumbersome as the Appendages may appear, they are afford’d the Ability to retract into two large vertical sun-on-the-horizon-shap’d cavities in the Back, flanking the spik’d Spine” (333-334), “To my Dismay, some of Them Drown’d in the Waters betwixt Land–in what could only be christen’d as Rivulets in contrast to the mighty Ocean that enclos’d Them, isolat’d them from all Civilizations. Such Calamities were ow’d to the tuft-laden Nubs which were so infantile in Structure, though mature in their Growth. These superficially suppress’d Extremities only permitt’d Them to drift diminutive Distances, to fleetingly hover forward” (455-456), and “In Stretches of Jubilation They were beheld to fly as high as the Sun itself, encircl’d in the Incandescence, Their Wings the extent of a mythological Bird, fleck’d with fiery Eyes” (999).

In the context of these quotations, evolution is neither discussed nor acknowledged, and we are led to believe that every being possessed every type of wing, although not exactly simultaneously. One colleague of mine conjectured that time in this archipelago is not like we know it, that the experience of time is disjointed, perhaps utterly capricious. Even physicists are uncertain as to whether our Laws are universal in the ultimate meaning of the word. If this hypothesis of chaotic time is true, then Karl observed the evolution of wings in a relatively brief period but processed the gradualism as a stasis. This evolution must have been guided heavily by the development of their nests’ structure, descriptions of which also suffer from contradiction: “Their Nests, which grac’d the tops of decapitat’d Trees, were hierarchical, bas’d upon the breadth & altitude of said Trees, with the Dimensions of the Throne Nest rivaling the almightiest Redwood” (200), “Evoking the Greek Phoenix, They slumber’d in domestic Groupings within grandiose Campfires, roosting upon the heat’d Coals in Symbiosis, for those Coals were the Backs of Combustible Crabs, who were also commission’d in Spells of Conflict” (606), and “Never had I beheld such gargantuan Leaves, affix’d to such slender Stalks. Sounder than Diamond, the wing’d Beings carv’d Spears from them. I was further mystifi’d when I hearken’d to how Winds, lac’d with twilit Sea Salt, caus’d the bamboo Trunks to knell, soaping the Air with soporific if inhuman Mantras. More like Flies than Birds, They made Homes of the Leaves’ Undersides, adhering with a viscous Substance that secret’d from both Palms & Soles” (1,122-1,123). For this reason, and others previously mentioned, chronology in the manuscript as a whole is defied. What the reader sees published is but one construction of many possibilities, a snapshot of the flock in flight, as it were.

Of course, another question is: Why did the bird-humans–if capable of flight, depending on the type of wing they possessed at a given time–remain only on the Beak-born Islands? Why did they not migrate to other lands, make contact with human civilization? According to Karl:

Their Religion bequeath’d to Them the Knowledge that Nothing exist’d beyond Their Islands & Sprinkle of Islets. As such, They believ’d I arriv’d from either Above or Below. I was either Mole or Swallow. Devil or Angel, if you will. To divine my Color They subject’d me to a Trial. They serv’d me a Bowl of Their own gourmet Delicacy, White Worms, which I willingly ate out of Respect, & dare conclude their Flavor was akin to spic’d Raisins. Such a Worm, I later learn’d, is pestilential to the Mole Stomach. Afterward, They slic’d my Palm with a Clay Conch Blade, taking turns at tasting my Blood. They seem’d repuls’d at first, Their Owl Eyes flaring more so, Their Heads revolving 180 Degrees & back again, but it must have been the Rush of the Aftertaste that made Them Hoot with Hedonism. ‘Uh-Uh-Above!’ (8-9)

Aside from Karl, there is the possibility that contact between humans and the winged strangers occurred again, although much later, and in the unlikeliest of locales. One might say, in heaven. (An earlier and quite different encounter, one of both confrontation and conviviality, will be mentioned later.) To understand, we must learn more from Karl about their beliefs and intentions:

As much as They play’d & pierc’d the Clouds from within, Their Kind had more than mere nubivagant Tendencies. Rather, They worshipp’d the Stars, longing to fly amongst them, to fertilize the scintillating Surfaces like a Bee upon the Flower, for Their Conception of those distant Dots of Light was akin to an infinite Meadow in which the Center of Flowers coruscat’d o’er altitudinous Realms, and thus beckon’d, perchance even taunt’d, the Beings to Pinnacles anew. Legend had it, One of Their Populace did indeed sunder the Surface of the Sky & found Herself floating among the Stellar Flowers. Her Constellation, eponymously nam’d ¡Khoro[1], is delineat’d by Seven Stars, One of which is Man’s Northern, thus She was subsum’d within that Meadow of the Cosmos. Other Acolytes were martyr’d but not beatifi’d in the same Manner. Flapping through the Spheres of the Sky, They would succumb to the Wintriness & fall back as icy Gargoyles, shattering upon an Island or buoying in the Sea ’til They liquefi’d into crystal-ridden Spume. Naturally, They mourn’d Their Dead & would orchestrate aerial Funerals, prancing & pirouetting at such a colossal Elevation that They resembl’d Motes in a Glass of Water. Using Clay Conches or other sundry Materials, grieving Mothers would jar a modest Portion of the Sea a Day after a frozen Martyr fell into it, Their equivalent of Ashes in an Urn. (78-79)

The winged beings’ propensity for spacefaring might explain the “vision” astronaut J.P. Torring claimed to have witnessed while on the moon for Apollo 14. Ridiculed and disbelieved by friends, family, and most of the public, Torring explained what he saw in an interview, “I’d call it, you know, like one of those damned harpies. Something, you know … something your parents might scare the bejesus out of you with to make you behave. A damned big closet monster with … with tiger claws, chicken feet, you know, and wings made of alloy or something. It looked part machine as much as poultry. But with, oh gosh … with a human face” (39). According to Torring, the bird-human stared him down with equal parts fear and curiosity, before beating its wings in a storm of moon dust and heading for the stars. Unfortunately, Torring’s fellow astronauts did not corroborate his story. For a period after that infamous interview, people across the U.S. and some abroad claimed to have been bound in their beds, gagged with silver powder, and sat on by chromium angels, although such claims of abduction or visitation are dismissed by skeptics as frauds and delusions. Amateur astronomers also interpreted at that time certain spectral data as vast fleets of them soaring between galaxies in the formation of a luminous arrowhead a thousand earths wide, but this scientific conclusion is controversial (Krasznahorkai 24-59).

It wasn’t long until young Karl despised his reflection, taking extreme measures to change it, as is written in his unpublished journals.

Controversy seems inseparable from any notion of the bird-humans, however distant in relation or idea, as with their method of copulation. Karl explains that sexual intercourse was never a taboo in that isolated society. Rather, they indulged quite often in a variety of positions, many familiar, if not shunned or banned, by human civilization. Yet only a specific sexual act produced offspring, whereas the rest existed for pleasure’s sake. In no sparse prose does Karl illuminate the bizarre act:

Much like the Red-tail’d Hawk, They would Woo each Other by flying in Circles, Triangles, & Hexagons. The Male & Female both would dive steeply & rise steeply. O, Gloriousness! Then, when the Volition struck at the Center of Their Souls, They would hold feather’d Hands, entangle Talon’d Feet, & dive in a Blur of phantasmal Colors, pecking each Other’s Cheeks & Beaks with love-saturat’d Smeerkins. But, O Foulness!, not all Unions end’d in unanimous Life. If, perchance, They become too enraptur’d in Rapture to perceive impending Ground, such Soul-dives on Occasion result’d in a bespatter’d Death for the Lovers. Yet, O Propitiousness!, an inseminat’d Egg would still hatch & rise as a human Phoenix, not from the Ashes, but from the Gore of the Hatchling’s Progenitors, Born an Orphan. These strange & estrang’d Offspring, who possess’d a crimson Complexion, were treat’d as Lepers by the rest of Their Kith & Kin, forc’d to fend for Themselves or form minuscule Factions with a more savagely-inclin’d Temperament, enduring on the Edges of Islets. Contrariwise, a Child born from a Soul-dive which end’d with a Plunge in the Ocean would be a Child Born to different & deeper Doom. Though lungless at the Moment of Conception, come Accouchement its Lungs would be chock-full of Seawater. O, ill-fat’d! A Child born Drown’d. (171)

Somehow, this way of lovemaking has thrice seeped into human society in the form of controversy as much as tragedy. An obscure French filmmaker named Absolon Dubois, who begrudged and attempted to compete with Georges Méliès, can be credited with making one of the first pornographic films. Yet it wasn’t his intention to be lewd. Rather, he thought the film a “testament to pure science,” and based the premise on what he deemed, without elaboration, a “divine source material” (Oro 10). Titled In the Sky of the Tesseractyles, it was shown at the brink of a millennium in 1898 to an elite audience of intellectuals. The actors in the film, devoid of clothes, hang upside down by well-concealed wires. With a vertical scrolling sky of painted clouds in the background, the pairs thrust in and out of each other as a wind-machine from below blows their hair and wings about. Some of the pairs screech sweet nothings to their mates in the form of clicks and whoops that a linguist in the audience later called “ethereal Morse code, as mesmerizing as it is unintelligible” (18). Starting with cirrus and continuing through stratus, the green-brushed ground finally appears, but rather than creating nests of gore, a substitution splice allows the death-diving bird-humans to disappear in a plume of blue-stained smoke. The scene then transitions to a close-up of a golden egg branded with sacred geometry. A time-lapse of the hatching reveals a newborn baby boy with an albatross’ beak for a mouth. There the film ends. Many praised the uncanny wings of the actors, which were made of glass and contained a representation of four dimensions or higher, a tesseract in wing form. One viewer, a distinguished physicist, said the “wings have more than a life of their own, they have the Cosmos in their curvature” (18). A paleontologist, who sat in the back and scrutinized the film with the aid of a monocle, was stuck on what he called the “terrible pterodactyl pun. These humanoid birds are anything but similar to my winged reptiles,” although he later admitted that “the film has penetrated my dreams in ways that the bones of prehistoric monsters never could” (19). Almost a year later, Dubois was found dead in his home, any sign of foul play absent on his body, but with the incinerated work of a sequel four feet from his outstretched hand. Méliès was interrogated by the police but presented a viable alibi, leaving the circumstances of Dubois’ death forever ambiguous, his cinematic potential snuffed.

Upon rediscovery, Absolon Dubois’ In the Sky of the Tesseractyles was shown in 1930 on a week-long loop at a gallery of cinema in lower Manhattan. Perhaps inspired by the film, a rash of romantic suicide pacts occurred, wherein nude couples tipped themselves over a steel rib of the Empire State Building’s embryonic skeleton, tumbling while linked at the loins. Later, the same style of self-slaughter transpired on September 11, 2001, in which co-working lovers undressed themselves, embraced each other, and dove from the tower into funnels of fire-flaked smoke, their intertwined bodies an expression of life and love against the presence of cult-inspired death. While writing this paper, a colleague brought to my attention a missing page of the Kama Sutra, recently discovered, that describes the “upside-down lovers, suspended in wind,” whose sexual organs were secondary to the “tumescent wings of their hollow spines” (69). Love between souls, claims the text, is fully realized in this mystical position, during which “all else dissolves” (70).

Yet for all the influences from the society of bird-humans that I have noted, the most clandestine and far-reaching is found in Charles Darwin’s seminal work. Readers might find the following quote familiar: “There is Grandeur in this Way of Life, with its avian Powers, having been originally breath’d into a few Forms or into One; & that, whilst this Planet has ignorantly gone cycling on according to the fix’d Laws that Man knows, from so simple & hidden a Beginning endless Wings most beautiful & most wonderful have been, & are being, Evolv’d” (1,631). This is the final paragraph of, not On the Origin of Species, but the published arrangement of Karl’s manuscript (and the only time Karl mentions evolution, which suggests that he may have adapted to the islands’ nature of chaotic time, in mind as well as body, a phenomenon described later). A paragraph which Darwin, were he still alive, would have to answer to. That is, if the similarity were to be taken at face value. Far from plagiarism, a different story is told in Karl’s manuscript:

Due to the Essence of the Beak-born Islands, I am certain that if a Man had discover’d Them, he must in some Capacity be Pure of Mind & Heart. However, as in the Mythologies of bygone Civilizations, there exists Techniques to sneak into Utopia. Thus, when an Eagle-ey’d Sentinel station’d at One of the Wind Towers first spi’d the Beagle on the Skyline, He warn’d the Fowl Lord, who then command’d His Flock to assume the long-practic’d Formations, encloaking Themselves in Their chameleon Wings, proficiently camouflag’d with the Texture of Stones. While many masquerad’d Themselves as the inanimate Landscape, Others imbib’d shamanic Potions which shape-shift’d Them into Mockingbirds, Giant Tortoises, & most disgusting, clumsy Lizards. When the Man who identifi’d himself as Darwin came ashore, I was strangely unsurpris’d to find that he resembl’d me, minus the avian Mutations that I have long since embrac’d. But his Familiarity inspir’d in me further Distrust, & I could sense the living Rocks beating as dispers’d Clumps of my own Heart. (807-808)

At that point, Karl’s wariness of strangers is the product of a mother’s affinity for her children’s welfare, and so he decides to “destroy Darwin & the Others, burning their Bodies in the Ship from whence they issu’d” (809).

However, Karl is not a murderer, and his adopted kinsfolk are not readily prone to violence either. The foreigners make camp with Karl and eat the combustible crabs they catch near the rock-bird-humans. As Karl relates, “Miraculously, the Crabs did not detonate in their Mouths, which germinat’d in me the Judgement that Men dampen the Magick of Existence, & that those living Rocks were not living after all, but as Dead as those in the dreary Village I hail��d from” (810). Even with this awareness, Karl befriends Darwin, admiring his “Fascination with the false Fauna.” All is going well when, as night begins to fall,

a rogue Band of Four Gore-borns emerg’d, descending from the Shadows, & stabb’d a few of Darwin’s Companions in an attempt to eradicate the Mole Invad’rs, but ere they could slay Darwin & the rest, the Fowl Lord manifest’d, who, Five Meters in Height, possess’d the full Body of a Condor, the Neck of a Swan, the Head & Face of a Man, & the Eyes of a Hawk. Most Regal was His Hair, which was the Tail of a Peacock, like a Chieftain’s Headdress. They cower’d in His Presence, but, with Resolve, the murderous Rogues swoop’d toward the Fowl Lord, & with a single Wave of His Wing He smote Them all. (823)

Believing the crabmeat to be tainted, all but Darwin board the ship in mortal fear of the hallucination they witnessed. However, Karl allows the inquisitive Darwin a keyhole-shaped glimpse into the islands’ secrets, an inkling of truth patched with excuses and fabrications. It is correct to say that Karl indeed develops a bit of trust toward the fellow naturalist, who later refers to him fondly as a “supernaturalist,” but the potential dangers of full disclosure were too great. Thus, an implicit, although obfuscated, knowledge grows between them, and they continue to correspond long after Darwin’s departure, communicating by way of magnetic bottles, which, when tossed into the sea, could find any shore or ship deck that supported the feet of his friend. Along with messages of a personal nature, Karl divulges just enough information, albeit encoded and amalgamated, to produce Darwin’s great observations and theories, with any inaccuracies the product of a necessary opacity.

Regardless, the momentous visitation of the Beagle helped foster in Karl a festering suspicion, at times a loathing, of human beings, which further complicates not only his relationship with Darwin, but his perception of the outside world as a whole. Tensions, too, increase between the bird-humans and their incarnadine counterparts, who attempt several more coups against the Fowl Lord, all ending in their butchery. On a night when the Fowl Lord assumes that he executed the last of the insurrectionists, claiming to have “clipp’d the wicked Wings of Mutiny,” Karl writes:

With the Facsimile of Flight inevitable in Man’s Progress, my Bird-humans, my Kin, will surely be imperil’d. The dim Shadow of Man is visibly ruffling Their Feathers. Yet They seem prepar’d for It, prophetic in the Belief that They will rise & dive, dive & rise. Half of Their Quantity schemes to construct spherical Nests of Wind & Air with the Scope of Cities, adapting to Life at the nethermost Region of the Sea, Their Wings twisting into stunning Fins. (830)

When contemplating this underwater nation, Karl compares them with the winged fish and mermaids he heard tell of (perhaps aboard the unnamed British schooner). Flying, he thought, was not exclusive to air, but with the right adjustment could occur in any and all elements. Regarding the rest of the population:

They have been tempering Themselves in the Fringes of the Atmosphere, predicting the Chill will crystalize Their Skin into Something Metallurgic, & then They will fly higher, nesting in Craters on the Moon, in Spots on the Sun, & Yonder. These are Dwellings in which Man will eternally be one Step behind, but whose pertinacious Progress will eventually force my Bird-humans to fly-swim ever Downward, ever Upward, ever Onward. (831)

Over the course of his studies, a romance ensues between Karl and a bird-human. This not only convolutes his perceptions further, but might have contributed to the alteration of his existence:

In the Beginning, the Females were prone to a social Snub of my Presence, save for a Female who seem’d Herself an Outcast, although not of the crimson Complexion, not Gore-born. She, my darling ¡Vhinda, spent most of Her Time perch’d in the Trees or transfix’d by the tantalizing Stars, gripping the edge of a cliff on the Island’s south Side so that She may sense both the speckl’d Void above and the wet World below…. Only She had been Audacious enough to lip-peck the nova-shap’d Seeds from my quivery, scarr’d Palm, once even permitting me to Stroke the Top of her felt Wing, reminding me, oddly enough, of a high quality Fez of Turkey that a Man in my Village donn’d. (951-952)

Following this are several chapters in which he worries and envisions the extinction of the winged beings, wondering and dreading if that Turkish headwear he knew of was not indeed manufactured from the wings of his creatures. He describes multiple dreams that are clones of each other, plus or minus minor distinctions:

O, They came to me. They had only me. I would have murder’d whomever committ’d such a demoniacal Deed. My wing’d Family, reduc’d to a dying Crawl. O, They crawl’d, Scores of Them, Their Claws rending the Soil & Sand, edging toward me, the entirety of Them wingless, with twin Geysers of hazel Blood flying forth from Their Backs. O, flying! All that flew was Their Lives, Rivers at a time, Rivers & Rivers of depleting Life. (979)

The dreams were the byproduct of a fever caused by Karl’s metamorphosis. His bones were becoming more hollow, his jutting lips thinner and harder, and his shoulder blades ached with emerging cartilage, which were, like a goat’s horn buds, the beginning of wings. The bird-humans’ consensus was that love acted as the ultimate shamanic potion, or, rather, as an antidote to the anthropological curse. Like a dying man who holds within his head mere scriptural knowledge of paradise, Karl was both fearful of his transformation, at times considering it an illness, and enthralled by it, wondering if he wasn’t passing into a different type of hereafter, a region of divinity populated by appointed avifauna.

Before the initial signs of his change, Karl and ¡Vhinda attempt to copulate, to perform a soul-dive. “She clutch’d my Hands and sent me aflight, leading me in that sidereal Dance, around & around, cradling me as I enter’d Her and we soul-div’d, enwrapp’d in Wind” (1,307). But the resulting child was stillborn, with random body parts belonging to either the anatomy of a bird or a human: “The lower Lip the Bottom of a Beak, the Hair as serpentine Feathers, one shrunken Wing, & a chicken-clubb’d Foot” (1,333). As far as is revealed, they did not try again, even after the completion of his metamorphosis, although they did sometimes fantasize about the fertility of their innards, the incubatory power of their insides if turned outward. Suicide as nativity.

Yet Karl’s heart was indeed a nest, and during his life it begat many symbolic birds, including one in the form of understanding both the overt and clandestine influence of Homo sapiens avis on our society, which we are only just beginning to fathom. Perhaps, camouflaged, they live among us, betrayed by reports of invisible wings bending the light behind politicians’ backs, although this has not been confirmed. Unfortunately, the extent of such overall influences, concrete or abstract, is limited by deleterious effects. The reason for this is DNA’s envy, the irresolvable discrepancy of the winged and the not, which is epitomized in the following: there existed a nameless scientist, perhaps a descendant of Darwin, who, extrapolating from the texts of his keyhole knowledge, attempted to recreate a kind of bird-human. All that remains of his work is crazed, haphazard jottings about the process, and a photograph of what some believe is a patient, others the scientist himself, cowering in the corner with bony wings stitched to an oozing back (Mingles 641-666). In the context of Erasmus Karl’s work, we can view this image as, not irrefutable evidence of the creatures’ existence, but a demonstration of a universal truth within us: we, the wingless beings, envy those with the power of aviation separate from supplementary invention; we long to join in communion with the invisible, omnipresent flock and forever migrate from the woes of terrestrial life, but we cannot.

Bibliography

Boris of Aventaria. The Purloined Philosophia. Medieval Science and Philosophy Series, London, 1991. 56.

In the Sky of the Tesseractyles. Dir. Absolon Dubois. Prod. Javier Macron. 1898.

Karl, Erasmus. The Nidificant Manuscript: The Untold Story of our Winged Relatives. TT Books, New York, 2019.

Kinbote, Darrell. “Man on the Moon Meets Monster?” U.S.A. (Unscrupulous Sources for America). 11.3 (1971): 39.

Krasznahorkai, Timofey. “The Angel Yearning: Deceits and Delusions Regarding Heaven’s Servants.” The Periodical of the Viktor Science Institute for Debunking. 21.9 (1980): 24-59.

Mare, Kate. “The Ineffective Forger: Hoaxes throughout History.” Skeptical Magazine. 40.4 (2011): 25.

Mast, Norman. “To See the Unseeable: Inferences on Alien Knowledge.” The Cosmic Cortex: A Journal of Ancient Biology & Related Disciplines. 20.1 (1989): 34.

Mingles, Jarvis. Again and Again: Failed Experiments Since the Dawn of Science. Axiom Books, London, 2000. 641-666.

Oro, Hal. Word of Mouth: Unofficial Reviews and Criticism of Vintage Films. Shift Publications, New York, 2014. 10, 18-19.

Vātsyāyana. The Complete Kama Sutra. Pearl Editions, London, 2017. 69-70.

Notes: [1] According to Karl, “The tospy-turv’d Exclamation Mark betokens a helical Whistle most conventional in the Bird-humans’ Elocution of formal Addresses.” (3)

Luisa Sontag holds multiple PhDs from a variety of universities. Her wide range of knowledge is reflected in her published work. For example, her essay on time’s golden spiral shape was published in Quark, her research on the gene-popping of rare squids was featured in Subaquatic Studies, and her six-volume history of vanished continents was published by Samurai Books. Up until his death, she was collaborating with Stephen Hawking on a book about theoretical flora and fauna titled A Brief Visit to Neighboring Planets. Dedicated to Hawking, it is scheduled to be published next year.

George Salis is the award-winning author of Sea Above, Sun Below (forthcoming from River Boat Books, 2019). His fiction is featured in The Dark, Black Dandy, Zizzle Literary Magazine, The Sunlight Press, Unreal Magazine, and elsewhere. His criticism has appeared in Isacoustic, Atticus Review, and The Tishman Review, and his science article on the mechanics of natural evil was featured in Skeptic. He is the editor of The Collidescope and is currently working on an encyclopedic novel titled Morphological Echoes. He has taught in Bulgaria, China, and Poland. Find him on Facebook, Goodreads, and at www.GeorgeSalis.com.

Leigh’s professional title is “illustrator,” but that’s just a nice word for “monster-maker,” in this case. More information about them can be found at http://leighlegler.carbonmade.com/.

Fiction: In Communion with the Invisible Flock: Erasmus Karl and the Nidificant Manuscript was originally published on Mad Scientist Journal

#Cryptozoology #George Salis #Leigh Legler #Luisa Sontag #Ornithology

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agameforgoodchristians · 5 years

Text

Vegetable love being better than hate-filled steak (Proverbs 15:17)

Note: among other things, we’re going to nerd out about translations a little bit . . . . .

The Verse

Better is a dinner of vegetables where love is than a fatted ox and hatred with it.

(New Revised Standard Version)

Okay, yes: this card is a little weird. Like that white stuff in the corner of your eye weird. Or wearing a beret, un-ironically, after 2008.

And the verse itself feels like something that should be on Christian t-shirts, sold at summer camps, or passed out at “lock-ins” and other youth group events.

Consider a few other popular translations:

Better a small serving of vegetables with love than a fattened calf with hatred.

(New International Version)

Better is a dinner of herbs where love is than a fattened ox and hatred with it.

(English Standard Version)

Better a bread crust shared in love than a slab of prime rib served in hate.

(The Message)

With minor variations, they’re all pretty straight forward in their meaning: it’s better to eat a small meal where love is present, than to eat a large meal in the presence of hatred. It seems to be about sharing a quaint meal with a friend and the joy that brings; How it is better to share burgers and fries off the dollar menu with someone you love— feet gently touching under the table— than at an elaborate, expensive meal at a fancy gala surrounded by fake friends you’d rather disembowel with a dull spoon. This understanding is why the New Living Translation renders it

A bowl of vegetables with someone you love is better than steak with someone you hate.

The problem is, the NLT is dead wrong and makes a beautiful mess of the actual image in the verse.

This verse is about what you get, and from whom you get it, not how you feel about them.

Sometimes biblical passages are straight forward.

Don’t eat that. Don’t stick that there. Kill that, twice, and then burn it with fire.

At other times, finding the meaning is more nuanced: the text should be held like a delicate flower, the layers of meaning peeled away carefully like an onion. Or a parfait. We hope to do that below.

Setting the Table

טֹוב אֲרֻחַת יָרָק וְאַהֲבָה־שָׁם מִשֹּׁור אָבוּס וְשִׂנְאָה־בֹֽו

Better an allotment of greens/garden herbs, and love is there, than a ox fattened with/by hatred (inside of it). ~ our translation/transliteration

In our estimation, the understanding of one word in this passage helps to unlock its meaning (because the rest are pretty straightforward). And that word is אֲרֻחָה ‘aruchah: what the NRSV translated as “dinner,” and we translated above as “an allotment.”

The word comes from a root that is used for travelling, and its meaning is tied to having a set portion or allowance of food. Think about this word in relation to rationing food— a set amount for a specific time period.

The word is biblically rare and its use is often focused on the source of the meals: one in authority. This word is only used three (3) other times in the Bible, and in each of those cases it is referring to an allotment of food given by a king (c.f. 2 Kings 25:30, Jeremiah 40:5, and Jeremiah 52:34).

Though Proverbs often feels like a Holden Caulfield-esque stream of consciousness on an acid trip of good advice and life wisdom, this verse should be with paired with the previous verse:

Better is a little with the fear of the Lord than great treasure and trouble with it. (Proverbs 15:16, NRSV)

The parallel between the two verse is obvious, and also highlights the connection to authority, in this case God. So what do we have: It is better to receive a something, even a small something, from a loving authority in a loving situation, than it is to receive something large that is filled—has been intentionally “fattened”— with hatred.

Proverbs regularly talks about the relationship between kings and their vassals/subjects (e.g. Proverbs 14:35, 16:14, 22:11, and 22:29). In fact, our card’s passage would fit well in the midst of Proverbs 23, which contains advice such as:

When you sit down to eat with a ruler,

observe carefully what is before you,

and put a knife to your throat

if you have a big appetite.

Do not desire the ruler’s delicacies,

for they are deceptive food. (vs 1-3)

Do not eat the bread of the stingy;

do not desire their delicacies;

for like a hair in the throat, so are they.

“Eat and drink!” they say to you;

but they do not mean it.

You will vomit up the little you have eaten,

and you will waste your pleasant words. (vs 6-8)

Do not be among winebibbers,

or among gluttonous eaters of meat;

for the drunkard and the glutton will come to poverty,

and drowsiness will clothe them with rags. (vs 20-21)

The warning is clear:

be careful of who you dine with, even if/especially if they have more power and/or wealth than you.

All that glitters is not gold.

Enjoying the Meal

Obviously this applies beyond situations with your employer, the government, clergy, and others who exercise power over your life. While this passage is technically more about sociopolitical discernment than it is about friendship, we should also show a measure of relational discernment in regards to our friendship. The two things often go hand in hand.

These include the hands you hold, fingers lightly caressing. The hands you grasp and warmly shake. The hands that pop the pimples on your back. The hands that hold you back from doing something stupid, or clamp a hand over your mouth. And yes, the hands that provide you with meals.

While this passage is a call to rightly judge social situations, perhaps it is also a good reminder of the etymology of the word companion. com "with, together" + panis "bread." To come together with bread.

Companions are the people you would share a meal with, be it a salad, a Five Guys burger, or a simple PB And J.

Perhaps we should be mindful of who those people are, as well as all the ways we are lucky we are to have them in our lives. Those who give with love, instead of with hate.

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But what do we know: we made this game and you probably think we’re going to Hell.

#Proverbs 15:17 #Love #Food #Authority #Friendships #Translations #d #p(

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dashorchid6-blog · 5 years

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How Sex Conflicts Can Affect the Mental Illness

The entire subject of sex has too long been covered in riddle and dread sustained by numbness and misconception. Different feelings of trepidation of humankind have been dissipated by comprehension. We have discovered that numerous sicknesses are brought about by microorganisms and infections and not detestable spirits. Therefore we never again feel a nonsensical fear of malady however attempt to control it by detachment, immunization, and chemotherapy. In the event that sexual issues were comparatively comprehended and straightforwardly considered by all, the sexual feelings of trepidation and clashes so common in our human advancement would vanish. Maybe the best snag to all around solid sexual mentalities is the way that albeit numerous guardians understand the estimation of sex instruction they feel insufficient and poorly arranged to offer direction to their youngsters. They are as yet dependent with restraints, humiliation, and an inclination that sex is unclean. Thus the youngster assembles autonomously a mutilated, unfortunate gathering of falsehood and misinterpretations. Legitimately there is no motivation behind why the psycho-sexual advancement of the individual ought to be respected from an alternate perspective from other substantial capacities. At each phase of improvement certain signs show up for which the youngster ought to be readied. He is more hurt by nervousness and dread of things he doesn't comprehend concerning sex than by conceivable untimely guilty pleasure. The rash treatment of sex interest in youthful youngsters may have enduring impacts. A large number of the hindrances that counteract an ordinary, sound reaction in youths toward individuals from the contrary sex have their beginning in such early experiences. A profound situated dread of sex may prompt constraints that make the young lady or kid contract inside a shell of save that they can't clarify Years of maladjustment and despondency may result from a couple of snapshots of botch. The best protect against the improvement of sex strife sick youth is a battle of sound sex instruction for the two guardians and youngsters, the core value for guardians ought to be trustworthiness and a demeanor of easygoing candor. It isn't important to endeavor a full dialog of science in one sitting, for such genuineness and overemphasis is as extraordinary as complete refusal to talk about the theme. In answer to the kid's inquiries concerning different things it isn't standard to plunk down and give him a full address regarding each matter. A straightforward, fair solution to his inquiry is all that is required, and in spite of the fact that the first inquiry might be trailed by others for elaboration, the subject is before long dropped and the energetic personality pursues its common course to different things. The youngster's advantage may seem first in inquiries regarding his very own beginning and if the appropriate responses are provided without passionate presentation or concern the kid acknowledges them matter-of-truthfully. These recommendations may appear glaringly evident to us yet it is astounding what number of the kids who go under perception at the center are absolutely uninformed of the logical basics of sex. Singular Problems Complicated Different kinds of enthusiastic responses, just a couple of which have been examined, are normally usable in creating the side effects displayed by a given person. This is all around shown by the accompanying case report: The patient was a young fellow in school, who went to the specialist with the accompanying protests. For a long time he has attempted futile "to deal with himself" and has turned out to be altogether debilitated and about "pushed beyond his limits." He has had mastoid, sinus, and tonsil contaminations which he supposes have influenced his psyche. Throughout the previous three years he has been strongly despondent and has made no companions, since "individuals disdain him." He says that he is a physical defeatist and is "rationally tormented by negative behavior patterns." Ideas go through his mind with the goal that he can't rest. Now and again he has felt that individuals were perusing his musings and watching him in the city; and once in a while he accepts he is going crazy and has set out to end it all. This young fellow's adolescence was despondent, owing both to awful neighborhood conditions and to the contradiction of his folks. During the majority of their wedded life his folks were kept together more by money related and religious contemplations than by any respect for one another. At last, the dad chose that the main way out of the trouble was to separate the home. Unfit to talk it over sensibly with the patient's mom, and so as to maintain a strategic distance from an excruciating scene, he sent the family to another city, where he had orchestrated a home for them. He additionally given that the mother get a specific aggregate of cash every month for the help of herself and the two young men. Now the dad dropped good and gone, as he went to another state to restore himself in business. The kid's initial social contacts were shocking. He had a few delayed diseases, which influenced him physically to such a degree, that for a period he was unfit to contend with different young men in physical things. Moving into another network made this doubly hard. He was harassed unmercifully by different young men. At last, he went under the mastery of a kid who was living in a similar flat, a kid to some degree more seasoned, rather dumb, yet very much grew physically. The last accepted a kind of defensive frame of mind toward the patient. It was from this kid the patient had his first sex guidance. He was instructed to stroke off and in the meantime informed that it would hurt him physically. He admitted his first experience to his mom, who was sickened and stunned. She disclosed to him this was just an affirmation of her conviction that he took after his dad in his Weaknesses. She disclosed to him that his dad had dependably been exotic and awed the kid with her appall for masturbation and with her conviction that it was an extraordinary sin. He made a goals to stop, broke the goals, made another, and with each endeavor turned out to be increasingly more persuaded that he was unfit to battle this malevolence. He felt that he should overcome it so as to demonstrate to himself and his mom that he was not a powerless character, wicked ordinarily, and so forth. It progressed toward becoming to him a kind of image of his entire battle against the possibility of underhandedness. In the event that he could vanquish this thing, it would imply that he could overcome the shortcoming he had acquired from his dad, he would recover the regard and friendship of his mom and have the option to contend with his more youthful sibling for her respect. His thought regarding masturbation added to his troubles with different young men. He felt that not exclusively was he physically disabled by the diseases which he had and his ensuing ponderousness yet in addition that he was not approach ethically to the next young men in his gathering. He got notification from some of them that one could generally tell a pervert by the pimples all over and the failure to look at a man without flinching. He turned out to be much progressively unsure and built up a dread that his propensity would be found. Subsequently, he abstained from gathering different young men and remained at home a lot, ignoring physical exercise and diversion. About this time there were in the area a few domineering jerks. They rushed to perceive the patient's mentality, and on a couple of events waylaid him in transit from school, provoking him to battle. He was startled and ran. On the main event when he put up a light since he couldn't escape, he was seriously pounded by the two young men. This persuaded him that he was a physical defeatist and added to his effectively developing loathing with himself. In his college courses, this kid had appeared uncanny capacity to select bits of data which would in general affirm certain things which stressed him. He got the hang of something of the organic hypothesis of heredity and was fortified in the conviction that he had acquired his dad's shortcoming of character. He picked up something of logical determinism, deciphering it to imply that man is not the slightest bit a free specialist, and that it is difficult to build up one's determination in the event that one doesn't as of now have it. He knew about the shades of malice of the supposed "feeling of inadequacy" and having discovered a word under which he could total up his issues, he was like never before awed by the size of them Although he made decent evaluations, accomplishment in this was of little incentive to him, truth be told, to go about as a pay for different disappointments. He in this manner lost intrigue and started to disregard his investigations. Over everything he required that acknowledgment, companionship, social contact, which his own sentiments kept him from getting. It was found at the beginning that any basic clarification and counsel would not be' of any incentive to the patient. He had ahead had such clarifications from different able personnel counsels. What was required was an intensive passionate re-teaching. It is clear from the record of the patient's life that his issues were profound situated and included such essential relations as that of the patient toward his family, toward religion, and toward the issue of sex. The patient was bizarrely wise and agreeable all through the method. He was seen in any event three or multiple times each week; and in spite of the fact that there have been times when he demonstrated extraordinary gloom; in general his advancement has been stamped. At present this kid is dealing with the family circumstance well. He is never again bad tempered, unruly, and withdrawn at home. He has had the option to make a few profitable associates on the grounds. He is presently very ready to put forth a concentrated effort reliably to his work, and his evaluations have improved. He has picked a calling and, despite the fact that he isn't yet prepared to enter his expert preparing, he is exceedingly intrigued by it and had completed a lot of outside perusing on related subjects. He has tackled the sex issue palatably and isn't jerking off or doing any surprising measure of fantasizing about sex, things. findomme trusts himself a weakling.

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