#and then a's in my two anthro classes

[murderballadeer]

need u all to pray for me to keep my cgpa above 3.8 this semester ok

[etdraconis]

( the summer semester is almost over I could honestly cry tears of joy right now i swear )

[cabeswaterdrowned]

I have the opposite project with my final project for my writing class than I do for the anthropology one: I like what I’m doing for it but I keep wanting to take the individual stories in directions where they’ll be longer than will actually work for me to finish the assignment on time

[nanamimizz]

looked at ny grades. we did better than we hoped but also not really 👍

[turbulentornado]

" witnessing / witnessed " (s.c.)

To have the mother goddess address you is to be seen for your whole self. Your heart/mind is true and strong, and now all can see.

To recognize ones heart/mind, in front of the community, creates an intangible, but strong connection. You have been seen, and now others may see you.

[fairy-writes]

Would it be too much to ask for a William James Moriarty x Holmes sister reader? Like she's a travelling archaeologist/anthropologist who's a genius in the field and has found many artifacts and lost cities and can be a bit of an eccentric looney like her older brother Sherly but she's also incredibly kind to those in need and often donates her treasures to the less fortunate and even helps Sherly from time to time which is how he meets her and is impressed by her smarts and sarcastic wits. Also, a bit of a parkour junky likes to wear mens clothes tailored for her measurements and often wears her hair in loose buns or ponytails and loves riding horseback much to Mycroft's displeasure🤭

A BUSINESS PROPOSAL

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

__________________________________________________________________________

Fandom(s): Moriarty the Patriot

Pairing(s): William James Moriarty x Reader

Word Count: 3k

Genre(s)/Tag(s): Female!Reader, Holmes!Reader, Mildly sexist behavior from Mycroft? It is the 1800s after all.

Notes: So this was super fun to write! 

Fun fact! I took an archaeology class for my associate’s degree in criminal justice and highly recommend taking one to anyone in college! 

I actually took several anthropology classes (intro to anthro, bio anthro, and archaeology). I even considered switching my major to anthropology at some point! (I switched it to English lol)

PART TWO HERE

__________________________________________________________________________

Otis whinnies, and you reach forward from your place in the saddle to pat his neck.

“Easy, Otie, almost there.” You whisper to him and gently nudge him to turn down the familiar road of Baker Street. You could spot your brother’s flat from where you were at, an unfamiliar carriage parked in front. You frown briefly and then shrug. Sherlock could have whoever he liked over. 

But… he did promise to take you out on the town in celebration of your latest discovery. Did he forget?

No… He wasn’t the type to forget something like that. You had been exchanging letters for weeks about your coming home. 

A tall man was at the front of the carriage, tending to the horses. He had spiked black hair and a glove on one hand. He looks at you with skeptical eyes as you draw near and dismount your horse. The Cleveland Bay snorts, ruffling your hair as you smooth your hand up his snout and between his eyes. Then, you promptly tied his reins to the post outside 221B Baker Street and went up to the front door. 

The door knocker was more worn than you last remembered, with the shiny brass turning a glimmering gold color from all the hands touching it. You rap the door once, twice, then a third time, and wait, stuffing your hands in your trouser pockets. 

A young man opens the door, sandy blond hair combed neatly and brown eyes alight with curiosity. A grin breaks your face, and you step forward into his arms as he realizes just who is at the door.

“My dear John!” You shriek, and he chuckles, lifting you off your feet and spinning once in a circle before setting you down. 

“I thought you weren’t due back for another two weeks!” He replies excitedly, and you laugh gleefully. 

“We finished early! Anyhow, how’s Mary? Sherlock said you two were expecting!” You say and slap his shoulder good-naturedly. He ducks his head, a pink flush on his cheeks as he nods.

“She’s home at the mo. But yes, we’re expecting. The midwife thinks it’ll be a girl based on how she’s carrying.” He said, and before you could say any more, there was a noise at the top of the stairs. 

You turn, and your grin widens even more until your cheeks hurt. 

“Sherly!” You crow, and he bounds down the stairs to sweep you up in a bear hug. His boisterous laugh made your heart sing, and you buried your nose in his hair. He smelled like cigarette smoke and whiskey. He must have been on a case. He squeezes you tight and sets you down. 

“I thought you were coming back in two weeks!” He exclaims, and you roll your eyes,

“So John said, I told you we finished early!” You tease, and it is then that you notice that there is someone else in the flat. 

He was tall, probably around your brother’s height. He had blond hair and deep scarlet eyes that studied you with interest. He was dressed in a brown suit with a crimson tie. A lord. That much is obvious.

Sherlock notices that you notice his friend and gestures to the man at the top of the stairs. 

“This is Liam! A mathematics professor at Durham University and a friend of mine who helps me on my cases.” He says proudly as “Liam” descends the stairs and approaches you. 

You stick out a hand and introduce yourself. His hand is smooth like you expected, as opposed to your calloused one. You had bandages littering your fingertips from blisters from shovels and tools. 

“William James Moriarty. I’ve heard stories about you.” His British lilt is proper and endearing. You feel your heart flutter and your ears burn. But you smile warmly nonetheless and give his hand a firm shake.

“As much as I’d like to say the same, Sherly has yet to tell me about you in his letters.” You direct the last sentence to your older brother in the same teasing tone as before. 

Sherlock rolls his eyes and punches your shoulder lightly while William watches on in amusement. 

“I got distracted!” Sherlock complains, and you break out into giggles. 

“I would love to hear some stories if you’re up to it.” William cut in gently before you, and Sherlock could start bickering. You brighten. A chance to tell stories of your work and not have someone get bored? It sounded like heaven!

That was how you got to where you were at the current moment. 

You were seated next to Sherlock at the Moriarty dining table, regaling them with a story of the most current dig you had been on.

“—and Egypt was absolutely smashing! It was so beautiful!” You say, waving your hands excitedly as you describe the tomb that had been uncovered. It had taken weeks to uncover everything, almost months. But oh so worth it. 

“Might I ask what you did with all the artifacts you found?” William inquires, and you hum as you sip at your wine. 

“Donated it all back to the locals. It’s the least I can do. Plenty of archaeologists steal their finds and bring them back to England to show in museums. I try and do the opposite.” You say and were pleased to see William nod in approval. 

At least someone shared your sentiment. 

You got a letter to your very old and very dusty flat a week after your return to England, summoning you to your eldest brother’s estate. You had been dusting and cleaning your furniture when the postman knocked on your door. You frown, brushing your pants on the seat of your trousers, and answer the door. 

The letter was short. 

Dearest sister, 

I have received news of your return to Egypt. I would like to have your company at the family estate for dinner to discuss business and your adventures. 

With best regards, 

Mycroft Holmes

A summons to the Holmes family estate that your oldest brother had inherited after your parents retired to the country. You look at the ceiling and groan, eliciting a funny look from the postman. 

This was going to be fun.

As soon as Otis realizes where you are, he tosses his head and tries to turn around. You tug the reins so he faces the right direction and nudge him into a walk down the road.

“Otie, I don’t want to do this either. But I’d rather not have Mikey send special forces after us or something.” You say to Otis, and when you reach the stables, Mycroft’s hired stable hand takes your beloved horse’s reins. “Take good care of him!” You nearly reprimand the stable hand who agrees and welcomes you back with ease. 

The maids welcome you in excitedly when you rap on the massive double doors, and you are ushered upstairs into the dining room. 

Mycroft was seated at the head of the table, where your father would be if he were here, and he stood to greet you. He offers a handshake, but you simply smile warmly and hug him tightly. He may have grated on your nerves, but he was still your brother. Mycroft stiffens and pats your shoulders awkwardly when you step back.

“As awkward as always, I see Mikey.” You said and took a seat at the table next to him like you did when you were kids. He clears his throat and calls for the kitchen staff to bring in the food. 

It wasn’t much, considering there were only two of you. But it was as extravagant as Mycroft always demanded it to be. 

“Would you like to change into dinner attire before we eat, sister dearest?” Mycroft says suddenly, just as you are about to dig into the delicious roast prepared by the staff of the household. You put your fork down and scowl.

“Don’t start with this, Mikey. You know I hate dresses.” You snap, and he raises an eyebrow but doesn’t push the issue. 

At least… he doesn’t until you are done with your meal and in his study, talking about your travels to Egypt. 

You down the rest of your whiskey and set the glass whiskey tumbler on the table between you two. 

“More whiskey?” He offers, and you shake your head.

“I want to be able to ride home after this.” You say and hold in a yawn. The excellent food combined with the fireplace blazing with a crackling fire is lulling you to sleep. 

Suddenly, Mycroft stands and walks in front of the fire, setting his own glass down on the mantle and turning to face you. 

“Might we talk some business?” He inquires, and immediately, your mood sours. 

So this was his end goal? Get you sleepy and drunk so you couldn’t ride home and were subject to his pleadings?

“I don’t want to hear it, Mikey.” You say and stand, holding onto the back of the wingback chair for a moment as the dizziness sets in. 

He scowls, 

“You are of perfect age. The season is just starting. You could still join in and find a potential suitor!” He tries, and you scrub at your face.

“I already told you I wasn’t interested in courting! I’m interested in—”

“Your work, I know. But what happens when the digs dry up and there’s nothing else for you to do? What will you do when you get too old for this?!” He snaps, and you whirl, steadying yourself with the chair as your anger flares. 

“It won’t dry up! There are thousands of years of history still to be discovered! Hundreds of thousands of cities and archaeological finds!” Your voice rises to a shout, and you hear distant footsteps as maids scurry away from you and your brother’s anger. 

This goes on for several minutes until Mycroft a bomb on you. 

“Mother and Father have decided. If you don’t find someone to court, they will no longer fund your excavations, and you’ll be stuck here with me.” 

You freeze, hands wound tightly in your hair, and argument dying on your tongue. 

“B—But that would mean—” Mycroft cuts you off gently and approaches, putting his hands on your shoulders. 

“You’d be stuck here until you find a husband—no more digs. No more artifacts. Not until you do as they and I ask.” Tears well up in your eyes, and you shrug off his hands violently and flee. 

Your boots pound against the hardwood floors, and you run outside where it has started pouring rain. Instantly, your clothes are soaked as you make it to the stables, dress Otis in his saddle and bridle, and swiftly mount his back. He tears out of the stables at a thundering gallop, and the stable hand barely dives out of the way to save himself from being trampled. 

Otis’s hooves dash against the cobblestone roads. You cling to his reins and hunch over his back as tears stream down your face and sobs wrack your body. 

Stupid, stupid, stupid!

Taking away your funding? 

No one wanted to fund a woman on an archaeological dig! 

Much less one as young as yourself! 

You were screwed! Doomed to live as a housewife because that was society’s and your parent’s expectations of you!

Otis eventually comes to a halt, and you dismount, collapsing onto a bench, breathing hard as rain pours down your body. Your shirt sticks to your skin, and your trousers swim in water as you sit in a puddle on the bench. But you can’t bring it in you to care. 

A carriage rumbles to a stop before you, and you look up as the door opens. 

“Might I interest you in some shelter?” Comes a proper and endearing accent that you recognize. 

“William?” You sniffle, and he smiles, extending a hand. 

“If you’ll let him, Fred will handle your horse. How about you step inside the carriage, and we’ll take you back to the Moriarty estate.” He says over the rain. A young man with a blue scarf wrapped around his head gets off the front of the carriage and approaches. You hiccup and nod, handing Otis’s reins to the young man and accepting William’s hand into the carriage. He sheds his overcoat and offers it. 

It’s warm and heavy as you wrap it around your shoulders and sit down. Your boots squelch against the floor, and William knocks twice against the carriage's wall, and it starts moving once again. 

The Morairty estate is even grander than you remember, looming over you as the carriage stops by the front doors. You nearly slip in your haste to get inside and are taken up the stairs to one of the many bedrooms. 

“Draw a bath and get warm. I’ll have some clothes brought by. We can have a talk after you’ve collected yourself.” William says gently, and you nod, taking off his overcoat so he can have it back. He excuses himself, and you are left alone in the suite. 

The bath is nice and hot, and you let out a sigh as you shed your clothes into a pile on the floor and sink into the warm water. Your tears are drying, but your emotions are still raging like a rabid dog inside you.

How could they? 

Didn’t your family know archaeology was your passion? Your dream?! Of course, they did! You never shut up about it when you were but a little girl learning to play the piano! You babbled on and on about fossils and artifacts in between lessons until you were blue in the face!

It wasn’t long until you were done in the bath and dried off. As William had promised, some clothes were left on the bed. A button-down that looked like it might fit you, a pair of trousers that might be a bit too long, and a pair of undergarments. You tugged on the underwear and then the trousers, having to cuff them at the bottom so you didn’t trip. The shirt fit better than you thought so you pinned your hair out of your face and left the bedroom and down the hall. Hadn’t there been a sitting room just down the stairs? 

William was inside, stoking a fire with a poker, his back to you. He stood and turned when you rapped lightly on the entryway. His lips curled in a welcoming smile, and he gestured for you to take a seat. 

“Would you like some tea? I had Louis put the kettle on.” He said, and you nodded, sitting on the couch beside the fire.

“Thank you. For the clothes and… everything else.” You mumble, and he shakes his head,

“Don’t mention it. Sherlock mentioned you hated dresses.” He says and pours you a cup of tea.

It’s delicious. It warms you from the tips of your ears to the ends of your bare toes. You scuff them on the plush carpet as William sits across from you. His scarlet eyes are illuminated like glittering rubies in the oranges and yellows of the fire. They’re alive like a torch resides inside. 

“Now, might I ask why you were out in the rain?” William asks as soon as you’ve settled into your spot. You bite your lip and wonder if you can trust him with your problems. 

Sherlock trusted him well enough… 

Perhaps…

“I got into an argument with Mycroft. He said my parents will cut off my funding for excavations if I don’t find a proper husband.” You blurt, and he hums as he takes a sip from his cup. 

“I assume they’ve been funding your past archaeological escapades?” He says, and you nod.

“Correct. But that is going to change unless I get married.” You grumble, and he cocks his head to the side, setting his cup down on the tea table next to him and seemingly mulling something over. 

“This may be a bit forward, but I have a proposal. A business proposal, if you will.” He starts, and you narrow your eyes. A business proposal? You set your own cup down and cross one leg over the other. 

“Go on…” You say hesitantly, and he clasps his hands together as if working out a problem in his head. Sherlock did say he was a mathematics professor.

“I could marry you.” You inhale sharply and proceed to choke on your saliva. William half gets out of his chair to come to your aid when you finally get your coughing under control. 

“Why?!” You demand, and he shrugs, 

“I’ve done some research into you. You are spearheading the way in new archaeological techniques. You donate your finds back to the locals in need. And frankly, I find you fascinating. If we go ahead with this, you’ll have access to my brother Albert’s influence as well as the Moriarty name and fortune.” He says, and you sit back, stunned. 

“I could continue my work?” You say skeptically, and he nods. 

“Indeed. There’s no reason to stop you. I might ask for a lecture or two from you at Durham University. But that’s it. So…” He extends a hand for you to shake. “Have we reached an accord?”

You are speechless as possibilities run rampant through your brain. You’d be free from your parent’s influence as well as pleasing them. Though pleasing them was the last thing on your mind. Yes, you’d be married. But like William said… it was more of a business proposal…

You reach forward and shake his hand. His smile widens marginally as you speak,

“I accept your proposal.”

[blkkizzat]

Mmm prof sukuna is just...yummy. I can't even.

But since we're doing this, Prof Gojo. He teaches theoretical physics. Your major required you to take it. So you do, your senior year of undergrad. But you're an experimental physics kinda person. So you argue with him day and night. So it surprises you when you're a grad student that he seeks you out to bounce ideas off of. He invites you to join a collaboration. He introduces you to people. This man is not your advisor, but he's always creating an opportunity for you. Eventually, your going to dinner meetings with him and several other professors from the department. You're surprised to learn they ALL think you're his girlfriend. And he doesn't deny it. In fact, he just smirks and changes the subject. Now no matter who you deny it to, they all just say that you don't have to pretend and that it's not that weird. Except now, no one asks you out. Because they all think you're taken. You ask Satoru to clear things up and he just says to let it pass. The more you deny it, the worse it'll get. Eventually, eventually, you just give up and hang around him like normal. You're getting good opportunities out of it and he's a really good friend. Even if he is a theoretical physicist. But it all changes after you defend your dissertation. He comes and listens and afterward takes you for ice cream, and he kisses you. he tells you he was waiting until you weren't a student anymore. You're flabbergasted. And a little mad cause you barely get laid for two and a half years cause everyone you met on campus thought you were dating this man and time off campus was rare. But fear not cause you decide to get even. You demand he make up for all 30 months you went without.

Side note: geto is def an English prof right? And Nanami is math?

- 🧠

🧠 nonny! pookies you eating with these! also prof geto is most def english, philosophy or anthro 100% and I can totally see prof nanami as math or he might be a dr on the md track and be your like attending when ur a resident kdhfkshfa.

prof gojo is really cute. i like how he played the long game and waited. i was surprised cause i didnt think he'd have it in him to do it but it make sense he could here if everyone thought you were dating already lefhdsdlkfhudslkfh. lmfao watch he's like fanning the flames himself behind your back.

ahhh wait i can't leave out my husband... even though i do NOT see him as an academic lmfao at all. buuuut WALK WITH ME HERE... professor toji of sports medicine.

prof toji happened to fall into the role more than anything. a former olympian he has over a dozen gold metals, the highest ever for a single person in japan and the first person to ever participate—let alone win in multiple categories. his physical prowess is a wonder to modern science and its purely his obsession with to being at his physical peak that drives him into academia so he could learn more about his body after being disillusioned with 'incompetent' personal trainers and physical therapist, taking his care into his own hands. prof toji now retired was practically begged to come to the university to teach. he teaches one class but mostly heads sports medicine at a university with a medical center where he trains and conditions sports athletes—you happen to be his TA/assistant, a former promising gymnast olympian but sidelined due to a wrist that never healed right. Toji is annoyed by you at first, brash disposition and a widower, he's not very personable at all. but one day you happen to be with him when his nanny has an emergency and drops a young 5 year old megumi off at his offices early. prof toji has to evaluate the swimmers in 20 minutes and it be too dangerous to take him to the pools, so you offer to watch him and toji, while skeptical has no choice but to let you. prof toji is quite shocked upon his return to find you in the aerobics area and megumi actually laughing—you taught him summersaults and he can almost do a cartwheel without falling over. he hasn't seen him laugh like that since his mom passed. prof toji feels indebted to you now and he hates that so he offers to take a look at your wrist even though you say theres 'nothing that can be done' which prof toji scoffs at. It takes a minor surgery and almost a year of physical therapy, strict diet and training regimine at his directive but your wrist actually heals!

fast forward 2 years and you are actually at the olympics! a bit older for the category but due to the immaculate physical therapy and training from prof toji you manage to get gold by mere fractions of points! taking it from the current champion of the last 3 years! prof toji is the first one to catch your eye when your scores are announced and when you flew into his arms out of gratitude he couldn't help the passionate kissed that followed as he literally kissed you for the first time in front of the whole world!

OMFGBFKSDHFKVA WAIT I ACTUALLLY ATE WITH THIS I ATE SO FUCKING HARDLJCSDLKJFHDSKJB I GOTTA WRITE THIS... NO STAWP I ALREADY HAVE TOO MCUHDFHSDJKCBK. WHO WANTS ME TO WRITE THIS?!

[cioror]

I wanted to post the two art pieces that are related to @picopubbydawg ‘s Anthro AU at once, but it seems the animation is taking longer than expected lmao (see WIP in keep reading).

I will devour these designs, they are eye candy. My apologies for changing a few things in the clothes.

The animation WIP in question. This is for my Digital Arts class, wanted to do a walk cycle, and why not a furry?

[dapper-lil-arts]

look i'm a mlm but the way you draw rarijack makes me giggle and kick my feet in the air like a school girl. thank you for my life i need these women WED!!!

THATS WHAT IM SAYIIIIING these two are the hydrogen bomb of shipping the opposites attract + incredible chemistry goes hard as hell, and i love my designs of them on the anthro side, its some of my best work; and if you saw the other sketches i have of them on the backlog and my other ideas you'd explode lmao (i know i have) Applejacks GOTTA be shaped like a truck and Rarity has gotta be gorgeous and hold that girl. you couldn't pry them from eachother with a crowbar imma put some of the ideas i have + WIPS for rarijack stuff under the cut cause it might be a bit much lmao. Some of it is adorable, some of it might be too horny

Like. y'know that scene on indiana jones 1 where Indy and marion kiss for the first time after he just points the booboos and she kisses them? that but with AJ and rarity would be incredible lmao. i might not even do the anthros tho, just the pony versions would be cute. (also unlike marion rarity would flip if she was slept on lmao) I had this funny idea where Rarity invites AJ to a party but forgets to tell her its a party so applejack shows up with a sexy mechanic routine that they clearly have done before and embarasses herself and rarity when twilight opens the door and is like "um i need help reacting to something" I had this idea of D&D classes with an barbarian AJ and princess rarity where the group needs to escort the princess and well. This super pompous royal woman is getting a bit too into her big sweaty barbarian bodyguard lol. (and for the record twilight=wizard, Sunset=dark palladin, Rainbow=rogue, Fluttershy=druid, Pinkie=Bard) I literaly have a sketch with anthros of rarity in lingerie holding Applejack, who is kneeling, on a leash. i did a very very homoerotic sketch of vampire queen rarity and Applejack holding a stake to her. and shes letting. pinned on the floor. it's already on patreon (and what the horniest thing ive ever conceived is rarity licking AJs wounds while not being allowed bite her. damn.) Also absolutely will make a small comic of this part of the fanfic i wrote (havent posted yet tho im drawing chapter covers)

generaly just drawing cute pony stuff would be fun to do. This ship is unmatched in potential and i love them to bits lmao

[tysonfurybattlepass]

i LOVE thinking about how the concept of gender would vary between different nonhuman societies it’s my fav kind of worldbuilding.

the ecology of lions means that sapient lions would likely have very distinct gender roles, but the existence and general acceptance of masculinized females in the pride structure means that there is more to it than just a bisection of the population. masculinized lions exhibit both male-associated and female-associated behaviors (as well as a mixed bag of phenotypical traits). masculinized females would likely represent a third gender class, distinct from the traditional male/female dichotomy. so while azure, a masculinized female, might fit our western understanding of a trans man, within the context of his own ecological and cultural background he is nonbinary/third gender.

solitary, hyper aggressive animals like leopard seals likely have no strong concept of gender. social classes don’t exist when there is no society. it simply doesn’t matter. kali uses it/its pronouns more than anything else because it literally could not care less which of these inane social schemas anyone attributes her to. it makes no difference.

spotted hyenas have a distinct gender hierarchy completely opposite of the most common form of gender-based inequality humans experience. we could not compare the experience of a human woman to the experience of a theoretical sapient hyena woman; the identity of “woman” has two very different sets of connotations to those two people.

i feel like this is a really huge missed opportunity in a lot of furry/anthro media. you could write a dissertation how specific ecologies would factor into both specific cultures and into a mixed-species society in a fantasy world. dont know where i was going with this

[jeannereames]

Hello again, Dr. Reames. This post about the hero's journey across world cultures but especially in Ancient Greece has been going viral on tumblr. As both a writer of fiction set in the ancient world and an academic, do you think the hero's journey holds any merit? Especially in regards to the Illiad?

So first, thank you for that link and sorry for the delayed reply. I enjoyed reading the post, and agree with her for the most part, but there is a very useful comment (I’m not sure I’d quite call it a rebutting) from Ian Robinson in the notes. His reply offers several useful points about, et al., masterplots and correctives to her take on Campbell, which is a bit narrow, although the Frazier/Campbell/Jung approach to myth has long been recognized as problematic, beginning with Levi-Strauss. So I’d suggest that those who read her post also read his comment, as he gives some good additional bibliography. There are some other good comments, but I’d specifically point to that one. Unless I really misremember Campbell, I don’t think he’s suggesting the Hero’s Journey is the only sort of myth out there. That would be oversimplifying him and creating a stick-man argument, which is where I might ding her analysis.

Walter Burkert (and his students, et al.) have noted that similarity in myths may owe more than a bit to some basic similarities in human experience due to human biology. So, we get a goodly number of coming-of-age stories/myths and accompanying rites of passage. Similarly, marriage is another commonality. There’s only one culture that doesn’t have marriage (if my anthro class memories serves); but what “marriage” entails, and who may marry whom, varies quite a lot over cultures. Death and funerals/mourning are another commonality strongly hedged by culture-specific details, along with birth and fertility rites. We can include also anniversary and commemorative rites, feasting and fasting, even water rituals. These all cross the globe in myth and religion. Thus, our very humanness produces similarities of experience, although details are shaped by culture.

Additionally, throughout history, human beings have tended to look for points of commonality when facing difference—a purchase to grab onto, if you like. We’ve been doing this for millennia, right down to: “Your god seems like my god, just with a different name.” Difference is occluded to focus on the similarity.

I don’t think that’s a bad thing. It promotes connection…and empathy. It’s only problematic when difference is not just ignored but erased and replaced. That happens too. The Greeks (and later Romans) were notorious for ignoring other people’s names and categories in favor of their own… but so were the Egyptians, and the Chinese. This is not simply a white Western/European fault. It’s a Center-Periphery phenomenon. And it may be the height of white Western/European privilege to assume they’re the only ones guilty of doing it!

All that said, we do find some common … themes? ... across myths. Trickster figures, for instance—perhaps because they make us laugh. But a culture that doesn’t have one isn’t “lacking,” nor do all tricksters look/act the same. Humor can be a very cultural thing. That’s just one example of a “semi-universal” mythical motif.

So, in short, I don’t see a problem with utilizing the Hero’s Journey as a useful frame in storytelling. But I would say that we may need to learn new stories too, as writers.

My current WIP (work-in-progress) is a 6-volume epic fantasy that turns the conquest narrative on its head. One (of the two) main characters transforms from “Master of Battles” to “Mother of Peace.”

Writing it has presented me with some narrative-arc struggles, most notably writing “battles that aren’t.” E.g., an expected battle that doesn’t come to pass/is short-circuited in some way. I mean to challenge the notion that “glorious conflict/combat” is a necessary conclusion for a story arc. Yet that runs the risk of annoying readers who complain of bait-and-switch. Nonetheless, the point IS that a peaceful solution may be the true victory. How to do that involves maintaining enough narrative TENSION even if battle isn’t the resolution of that tension.

That’s a different sort of story, and entails bucking millennia of narrative expectations. Of course there are other forms of story (metaplots) that don’t even involve a (big) battle at all, but I’m specifically trying to subvert that one. That means I must rethink dramatic tension. (Hopefully successfully.)

In any case, I offer it as an example of the struggle any storyteller faces when swimming against the current of reader/listener/viewer expectations. Especially when those expectations are formed by the freight of human storytelling tradition. We are “programmed,” if you will, to expect certain things out of any given plot arc. One ignores that—or in my case, deliberately flaunts it—to one’s peril.

[ktzart]

COMMISSIONS ARE OPEN!

hello, i’m katz, and my commissions are currently OPEN! if you’re interested in buying art from me, even something that doesn’t quite fit into any of the example templates, please message me about it and we can work something out!

further details below the cut!

WHAT WILL YOU DRAW?

most of my examples here are of humanoid characters, but i can draw animals, mech, anthro, objects, etc, etc!

i will draw blood, gore, nudity, and sexual content. i will also draw real people and fanart.

that said, i may turn your comm down if the subject matter makes me uncomfortable for any reason.

i’m totally fine with doing tattoo designs!

if you have any preferences for the materials i use or the style your comm is completed in (realistic versus stylized, for example, or digital coloring vs traditional), feel free to inquire!

HOW MUCH WILL IT COST?

busts: 20 USD + 10 USD per extra figure (a single drawing with two busts would be 30 USD)

partial bodies: 35 USD + 15 USD per extra figure

full bodies: 50 USD + 20 USD per extra figure

sketch busts: 10 USD + 5 USD per extra figure (a single drawing with two busts would be 15 USD)

sketch partial bodies: 20 USD + 10 USD per extra figure

sketch full bodies: 30 USD + 15 USD per extra figure:

first class shipping (postage and packaging) for clients within the USA: price of comm plus 2 USD

first class shipping (postage and packaging) for international clients: price of comm plus 5 USD

WHAT MAKES SKETCH COMMS DIFFERENT?

unlike my classic comms, sketch comms are not done with archival inks (they are far more susceptible to bleeding and fading over time), so they will NOT be available for shipping, only for downloading as a 300 DPI .jpeg file.

i do the underlying sketch with ballpoint pens and then ink right over the top. as a result, they will have a distinctly messier look than a classic comm.

[sallow-tales]

Strong and Sweet – Garreth Weasley x GN!Reader

Summary: Modern coffee shop AU; The ever lovely Garreth Weasley catches your eye from behind the counter of your local cafe. Pure fluff.

A/n: Once I got this idea into my head, it would not leave, so here we are. It's been edited, but only lightly. This is genuinely the longest fic I've ever written, I'm usually a sucker for short and sweet, but not in this case. I'm pretty sure this is gender neutral, but once again let me know if you catch a mistake. Also, the topic of the paper is incredibly self indulgent. With love, your friendly neighborhood anthro major <3

Word Count: 2897

You let out a sigh, fingers pressing almost painfully to your temples as you stared at the screen in front of you. You’d been trying to write this damned essay for hours, but the words didn’t seem to want to get out of your brain and onto the page. Not to mention that nearly every potential source you found was useless to you for one reason or another. 

The article currently open on your computer began to swim in front of your eyes, words blurring together as you tried to read them. As much as you wished you could take a break, you’d procrastinated this paper for far longer than you should have, and you were now to the point of questioning if you’d even be able to get it done before the due date. The due date, you realized, that was now only six hours away. Why’d your professor have to be special and make things due at 10pm on a Tuesday, instead of midnight on a Sunday like a normal person?

Dragging yourself out of your train of thought took more effort than you’d have liked as you once again tried to read through someone else’s science. You were slightly more successful this time, but once you’d gotten through the next three paragraphs, you let out a frustrated groan. There was no sense to this study–it ignored nearly all precedent and was trying to test a theory that anyone with common sense would know to be impossible. 

You slammed your computer shut in mild frustration and closed your eyes, taking a breath to calm yourself down, only for your meditation attempt to be interrupted by a familiar voice. 

“Careful now, doll. If you get much more frustrated you might start throwing things, and as much as I love having you here, I’d hate having to clean that up.” Your eyes open and you glance up to look at the redheaded boy standing over you

Your face relaxes as your gaze lands on him. You couldn’t be stressed when he was smiling at you like that.

The two of you had first met in this very coffee shop at the beginning of the term–him behind the register and you desperately needing some caffeine to get through your first week of classes.

“Give me something strong,” you’d said when you walked up, and he’d given you a playful salute in response.

“Yes ma’am, one americano coming right up.” 

His playful demeanor and charming smile had you grinning right back at him despite your exhaustion. When he’d handed you your drink, though, you couldn’t hide the grimace that crossed your face. You needed the caffeine, but boy did you hate the bitter taste that it left on your tongue.

“You should have told me you didn’t like it straight when I took your order.” You weren’t expecting to hear his voice and you looked back at him.

“I’m sorry?”

“You asked for something strong, but you didn’t have to take my first suggestion if you knew it wasn’t something you’d enjoy. Tell me what sorts of flavors you like and I can make you something you’ll actually drink.” You could tell he was eager to make you something new, though you weren’t sure if he actually wanted you to like it or if he just wanted to show off; either way, you rattled off your usual order, and some likes and dislikes, answering his questions when he asked and before you knew it you had a brand new cup in front of you.

This time when you took a sip, you practically moaned. It was spectacular. “How the hell did you do that? I don’t think I’ve ever had something this good in my life.”

His cheeky grin widened. “What can I say, I’m great at what I do. Though if you’d told me from the get-go that you like it strong and sweet, I could have just given you my number and been done with it.” His wink that followed sent flames through your cheeks and you’d turned your head to try and hide them.

Despite his flirtatious remark upon your initial meeting, nothing more had ever happened. Well, except for you developing one of the biggest crushes you think you’ve ever had in your entire life.

Against your better judgment (and to the chagrin of your wallet), you found yourself back in that cafe nearly every single day, always hoping to see his green eyes glittering at you from across the room. You knew the crush was stupid, but you didn’t blame yourself for it. How could you? It wasn’t your fault he was so ridiculously charming, and handsome, and kind. Nor was it your fault that he somehow always seemed to know exactly the drink you needed for your current mood–after that first day, you’d never had him hand you something unsavory again… well, at least that was intended to be enjoyable.

Every once in a while you’d come in during a particularly slow spell, when there was no one else around and Garreth–alongside his coworkers–were clearly extremely bored. It was days like these when you’d get to try his little experiments.

You’d see him furrow his brow, deep in thought, and then wander from place to place in the store, tossing various syrups, powders, and milks together in incredibly interesting combinations. Yes, interesting was definitely the word to describe them; sometimes they were spectacular, but other times… not so much.

“Oh my god, Gar, this is absolutely disgusting.” 

He had called you over a few moments prior, insisting you try his most recent mixture. You didn’t know what was in it, but it wasn’t good. It was almost slimy in texture, and the flavor certainly left something to be desired. Through your wince, you saw the twinkle in his eye. The bastard knew it wasn’t going to be good but he had you try it anyway.

Attempting to hide the grin that threatened to poke through, his face had twisted into a look of mock betrayal. “How could you say such a thing? I poured my heart and soul into this. You wound me, love.”

Your heart had nearly stopped at the nickname but you did your best to play it off, grinning at him. “Well, perhaps you should pour a little less of it next time, that might help with the texture issue.” He’d scoffed at you playfully, and the memory of his playful expression is still one of your favorites.

His expression was eerily similar as he stood beside your little table, eying the books you had spread about from your research. 

“Garreth! I didn’t realize you were here, I never saw you walk in.”

He chuckled. “I’ve been here for hours. I would’ve said hello earlier, but you looked focused and I didn’t want to bother you. However,” he paused, “it was about time for my break and I noticed you looked only inches away from violence, so I figured I should come intervene. Distract you with my relentless charm and all that.” His grin was contagious, and you found yourself smiling fondly at him.

“You should well know by now that I’m a pacifist,” you quipped back. “Violence would never be my first reaction. You wouldn’t have anything to worry about until after I’ve wallowed in self despair for at least 30 minutes.” He sat down in the chair opposite you and it’s not until he placed the cup and plate on the surface in front of you that you realized he’d been holding them. “What’s this?”

“A refill, and some sustenance. Figured you could use them, based on the fact that I haven’t seen you move in the entire time I’ve been here.” Your heart gives a little squeeze at the gesture as you take in the items. He had, in fact, brought you another coffee and the pastry that he by now knew to be your favorite.

“I can’t accept this, Garreth. I didn’t pay for them.”

“Don’t worry about it, it’s on the house. Don’t bother resisting, you know I won’t stop pestering you until you’ve eaten.” 

You relented with a sigh, taking a bite. “Happy now?” you mumbled.

He smirked at you. “Happier. Now, why don’t you tell me what’s frustrating you so much. Maybe clearing your mind of it will help you make some progress.”

You proceeded to rant to the ginger about the articles you’d been reading, the roadblocks you’d been encountering, and the various other issues you’d been having.

“I don’t know why it’s so difficult for people to have some common sense, y’know? It’s not so hard to realize ‘Hey, perhaps if you can’t sex an individual via this bone without population specific numbers, perhaps we shouldn’t try to sex an individual of an entirely different species.’ You’d think that’d be easy!” Garreth nodded along, a small smile playing at his lips. “And this one!” you gestured to an article on your computer, which you’d reopened part-way through your rant to show him evidence of your problems, “in this one, they try and argue that grave goods can be used to accurately sex an individual, which might be fine in some populations, but it’s a know fact that gender and sex variance is a common occurrence in this population.”

You finally paused to take a breath, and you realized that you didn’t really have much more to say. “And… and yeah that’s about it actually. There you have it.” You glanced up at his face, mildly surprised by the expression he harbored. It seemed to be a combination of amusement and… fondness?

“I do hope you know I don’t know what any of that means. Do you feel better though?” He rested his chin on his hand, hair falling just slightly in front of his face.

You immediately nodded in response. “Yeah, actually. Loads. Thanks.”

“My pleasure, love. Now, I do believe my break is over, so I should get back to it, but good luck on your paper. I believe in you.” A wink was sent in your direction before he turned and walked back behind the counter, deftly tying his apron behind his back.

With that, you dove back into writing. You were almost surprised at how much easier the words came to you now that you’d gotten all the swirling irritations out of your brain–before you knew it, you’d surpassed the page minimum, wrapped up all your thoughts, and read through it a few times to make sure there weren’t any errors. Thoroughly pleased with your work, you grinned and threw your hands up. “I’m done!” You turned your head around, searching for the smile Garreth was surely throwing in your direction. You weren’t surprised to find you were correct. “And with…” you turned back to check the time, “45 minutes to spare!”

Wait a second…

45 minutes to spare… that meant that it was 9:15. You turned to glare accusingly at Garreth.

“Don’t you guys close at 9?”

He shrugged noncommittally. “Technically, yeah. I was supposed to kick you out 15 minutes ago. But you looked so focused and I could tell you were close to done. I didn’t wanna be the reason you lost your stride. Besides,” his usual cocky grin came back to his face. “I’m not sure you could rob this place if you tried.”

The boy turned back to mopping the floor, ignoring your huffed “hey” in response. You began packing up your belongings in a hurry, trying to get out of his hair as quickly as possible. Despite your efforts, though, he had still managed to finish closing before you were completely ready to go. 

“I’m so sorry Gar, I really should have been paying closer attention to the time. I didn’t mean to be an imposition.” You rushed the words out as you exited the building in front of him. His only response at first was a small huff of amusement.

His words came a minute later as he turned back to lock the door to the building behind him. “As if you could ever be an imposition. Any time spent in your presence is time well spent.” You couldn’t even begin to process what those words meant as you took in the parking lot, empty except for one single car. A string of curses swiftly left your lips. If you’d thought yourself stupid earlier when you struggled to write your paper, it was nothing compared to how stupid you’d felt in that moment.

You’d completely forgotten that you’d taken the bus today. And in your time-blindness, you’d also forgotten that the bus stopped running at 8.

You glanced over at Garreth beside you, and let out a frustrated sigh at his barely concealed laughter. He knew that you sometimes took the bus, and by the lack of car in the parking lot belonging to you, it hadn’t taken him more than a moment to figure out what was going on.

“Don’t look so down, it’s not like I’d let you walk. Get in the car.” You immediately began protesting, not wanting to burden him any more than you already had this evening. “It wasn’t a question, get in the car. It’s too far back to campus for you to walk during the day, let alone at night. I’d be the world’s biggest asshole if I let a pretty individual walk home alone after dark. Get in.”

You conceded with a sigh, walking around to the passenger side door. “You think I’m pretty?” you grinned, trying to joke away the nerves you felt at getting in his car.

Sure, you’d become pretty close throughout the term, but your interactions had always, always been limited to that building. And now here you were, getting into a car with the guy you’d been crushing on for months. 

“If you’re just now noticing, then maybe you’re dumber than I gave you credit for,” came his snarky reply. He got in the car and grinned at you over the console. You hoped he couldn’t see your cheeks turn red in the dark. His gaze held yours for a beat too long and you looked away nervously. He cleared his throat before starting the car. “Where to?”

You directed him to your place, basking comfortably in the silence of the car in between instructions. Against your better efforts, though, you also found yourself staring at him. It was such an odd thing to find attractive, you thought, but the sight of him driving made your heart do a flip. 

You were admiring how his gentle features looked under the red of a stoplight when he turned to glance at you and caught you. “See something you like?” 

“And what if I do?” You replied, lips quirking into a smile. You had no idea where this bold streak came from, but you weren’t complaining. He didn’t reply immediately, focused on turning into the parking lot of your building. He parked, and then turned to you. 

“I’m less concerned about the ‘what if you do’s and more concerned about the ‘what if you don’t’s if I’m being honest.” Your face twisted slightly in confusion as you tried to decipher his meaning.

“I- what? I don’t understand.” Stumbling over your words, it took you far longer than it should have to realize how much closer he’d gotten to you. 

“What I mean,” he said lowly, his voice barely above a whisper, “is that if you don’t, you need to tell me now because otherwise I’m about to do something really really stupid.”

Oh. Oh.

“Oh,” you said in reply. “I see.” You wet your lips nervously but didn’t move away from him, your gaze flickering between his eyes and his lips. “Well, there’s not really a good way to know if it’s stupid or not until you’ve done it.”

Apparently that was all the approval he needed, because the next thing you knew his lips were on yours and his hand was cupping the back of your neck and a low whine sounded in the back of your throat. This was happening. Oh my god this was happening.

He pulled back after a moment, panting just slightly. He was nervous, you realized. You’d almost never seen him nervous before, but right now, in this moment, you were sure that’s what the expression on his face was. 

You let out a soft giggle that apparently eased his nerves, causing him to break out into a wide smile and tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Well, was it as stupid as I thought it was?”

“Verdict is still out,” you said with a grin. “I’ll have to let you know tomorrow. You work?” 

“Same time as usual, yeah.” He chuckled at the smile on your face as you unbuckled yourself from the car. 

“Well, I suppose I’ll have to let you know then. And maybe after you’re out, we could go get dinner or something. If the jury rules in your favor, that is.” You grin at him over your shoulder as you get out of the car.

The last thing Garreth sees as he pulls out of your lot is you pressing your fingers softly against your own lips, grinning like an idiot. And though he’d never admit it, in his head he was doing the same.

[basaltbutch]

currently my classes are bio anthro, etymology, and (hopefully) a falconry course if you have any cool ideas for those, but i will report back later, thank you so muchc !!!

!!! oh im not entirely sure with the other two but i took a bio anthro class as well and added (or am adding it lmao, still working on it) it to my field journal!! ill add pics when i get home.

[solradguy]

Do you play D&D and if so (or if you have an idea of them from memes/pop culture osmosis) what is your favorite class? Mine's Warlock, though Wizards and Sorcerers are up there with 'em.

I DOOOO PLAY D&D!!! My group and I have been playing together for 6 years now but me and some of my buddies from this group hopped DMs for a year or two before this.

I think I've made more paladins than any other class, but my favorite characters have been a Tiefling barbarian/fighter who was a vessel of Ilharg the Raze Boar from Magic the Gathering and an Aarakocra fighter that was pirate themed. Right now I'm playing a Dhampir (human base) monk (Konstantyn) that was from a space colony of bone-eating vampires and he's lowkey trying to make up for all the people he kidnapped/murdered while part of the space colony, and my other character is a Leonin (lion anthro, basically) wizard (Gringdor) going to Strixhaven (magic wizard college). Gringdor is useless, he's so bad and his dice hate him. Like his stats themselves aren't bad, there's no real reason FOR him to be bad, but he CONSTANTLY fails the absolute easiest rolls lmao

Warlocks are awesome. My character before Konstantyn was a pact of the old one half-Orc/half-Tiefling (Mirasaran/Mira) that had Nyarlathotep living in his brain. He died because he teleported on top of an enemy tentacle while the party was in a collapsing void realm and the tentacle flung him out into the abyss lol

Anyway, I'm a big fan of not thinking too hard and just bonking things over the head with a big metal stick 👍

[chaotic-archaeologist]

I am a lazy student (blame it on the adhd) and don't read textbooks unless i *have* to so it's interesting this semester, being in classes with required textbooks and having to actually read them for once. The difference in the way my us hist and anthro textbooks are written (interesting, surprisingly easy to read) compaired to my art history textbooks (kinda boring? idk why exactly tho) it's wild. cannot put into words what makes those two so much more interesting to read

Having one subject (or subjects) that calls to you more than others is such a strange thing, but I totally know what you mean. My junior year of college I was struggling to decide which subject I was going to pursue in grad school, and I wound up taking classes based on each and going with the one that I was consistently more excited to do the homework for.

Ride that passion as far as you can.

-Reid