#anyway in other news! i started a bigger art piece than what i usually do today and i'm very excited about finishing it ehehehee | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

yoiku · 2 years ago

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Just feeling like unpacking and sorting out some thoughts on this wonderfully rainy morning (begone, roadside dust!!)

Now, I've always been the type to post new art the moment it's done. Posting stuff only on Patreon has still proven easier than I expected. Perhaps since i am still posting stuff -somewhere- it doesn't feel as weird, even though I do miss the interaction from posting on socials. But that'll be back once I have a buffer big enough to keep Patreon relevant. It's also getting easier on letting posting on social wait as time goes by, lol. Actually thought that what if I make the publish gap with the comic even bigger, like several months between Patreon/other sites. But aaaah, I really do want to get it out. It might create more of a gap with time anyway. And the best way to get new people interested in my Patreon is to have interesting stuff out there in the wild. And I'll be honest, it feels validating af to see even a few people willing to spend money to access my Patreon.

It's still conflicting sometimes, because I would really want to keep my stuff available to everyone without paywalls. Art in general is meant to be shared and should be accessible to everyone, this is something I feel on a larger scale. Things like commissioned, unique pieces are luxurious though. They are after all often personal as well. Artists don't live on grants and stipends, hell, even those are usually available for artists who have already made a name for themselves on a larger scale/are well connected. Majority I know struggle with part time jobs, unemployment, studying or are disabled, barely scraping by what they can get in terms of welfare etc. I'm no different. I'm on welfare due to health reasons + in debt, so basically I don't have any "extra" money at the end of each month left for nice things™. And if I do, it usually goes to paying a larger portion of debt away. Sometimes I spend and always regret it later, lol. But if you -never- get to treat yourself even a little, life starts to feel quite depressing. I know so many people are in the same kind of position, where it's just not possible to pay for more than 1-2 subscription services monthly, or none. So having my art behind a Patreon paywall of any kind feels bad, knowing I would likely not be able to afford it myself, lol. Will it ever be easy to combine the thought of art + money without having dreadful crapitalism thoughts creep in? Probably not.

I still want to do my best to pick up some commissions as well, I need to create some sort of hidden stash of money now that I have the cat. Because when (inevitably at some point) a trip to the vet happens, that's going to be at least a hundo no matter what. And when the last trip to the vet arrives, that's gonna be closer to 300-400 with all the cheapest options. (hopefully not anytime soon, but something i have to take into account) I am currently working on a painting comm and might have another one coming up as well, which is giving me much joy. Watercolours are a lot of work, but they're less taxing in the sense that there's only so much detail you can do compared to digital, and tradi allows the happy little accidents with the medium. So it's easier to feel like I did my best wihtout having the thought "ah... i should've kept fixing it"(without asking for more money bc I gotta do better ad infinitum) So I'm really happy peeps have shown interest in tradi comms, even though I'm not very well versed in techniques with those. Learning tho!

My head's been in a relatively good place for a good while now, all things considered. But I have to pull the brakes on myself every now and then because I know it only takes one hard hit in the old mental health for all of it going to shit in the blink of an eye. So I'm trying to tread carefully, prep and plan while keeping the bar set low enough.

Mom has moved to hospice care, which also means that getting the phonecall about her passing can also be any day now. I feel like I've made my peace with it, but even if it doesn't initially hit hard, I'm pretty sure it will bring some mental struggle later. And there will be the whole episode of handling her stuff afterwards. Thankfully there won't be any wealth to distribute, so likely all the mandatory/legal expenses will be handled by welfare. How dreadful that even in that, money is the first thing to have to worry about, huh.

At least the sun has returned from the winter jail, bright days lighten the mind.

#behind a cut just because i think it might get long #shut up yoi #mostly just art thoughts #some mom updates at the end

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eregyrn-falls · 1 year ago

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Listen. I've been in fandom since the "paper zines were all we had" era. So OP's right -- like so much else in life there's been this shortening of attention spans / ability to focus. And the "consumerism instead of personal entertainment and community bonding" is an important point.

But what's interesting to me is -- running right in parallel to what seems to be described here as a culture of jumping into a new thing, while it's running, and then leaving when it's done, and cutting ties with the people you were briefly in the other thing with -- running right in parallel with that are new fandoms that themselves continue to persist.

Like, yeah, Supernatural -- it started in 2005, but it kept putting out new content through 2020 (as we all who were here on Tumblr -- in SPN fandom or not -- so vividly remember and continue to commemorate!). It's an old and persistent fandom, and I don't know its exact status know, but there's a reason it persisted.

And of course I won't talk about the Star Wars and Star Trek posts I still see come across my dash. Or the regular, new posts of LOTR meta or art. But they do! I think nobody is surprised by that.

You might point to those fandoms, including SPN, as containing or having been started by a previous generation in fandom. People who were more used to the older mode of doing things; fandoms that started before the "content" commodification and the elevation of bite-sized everything.

Also, I have to point to SPN, again, as an example of a fandom for a piece of media that was released under the older media model: 15 years worth of seasons, usually released once a week. Others have talked about what the "binge era" of streaming release has done to fandom; the negative impact it has had on the way fandom used to build a community *in between* the dates on which new episodes (or whatever) were released. Now it's "dump an entire season out there at once", and fandoms become split between people who watched it quickly and are digesting the whole thing in order to talk about it; and people avoiding it because they haven't gotten around to it yet (because that's a bigger time commitment than watching 1 hour each week).

Anyway, I guess what I wanted to point out was that even from my limited individual view, I see fandoms continuing to persist. Some portion of fans AREN'T joining while the media is in progress and then abruptly leaving soon after it's done. There ARE people doing that. But there's another track of fandom, as it were, where people are sticking around. And they aren't all "old" fans used to the old way of operating, either. It's fans of all ages.

Gravity Falls aired from 2012-2016. In 2023, it still has an active fandom. It's a smaller fandom than it was while the show was airing or for the year or two after it ended. But, it's consistently active. (In fact, it's consistently active across multiple platforms, although those platform circles don't always overlap -- Tumblr, Twitter, Instagram, reddit, YouTube, etc.)

Who exactly is participating has turned over during the last 7 years. Some of us have been here for that long or longer, and we've watched people drift off to other fandom pursuits, while others continue to find the show and come in. Sure, in 2017 (a heady year soon after the show ended, while some new content was coming out in other forms), a fan was able to organize a zine project that was able to get enough submissions for a 100 page zine (with only a handful of people contributing more than one piece; that was Wayfaring Strangers). But in 2023, I was able to get 72 people applying to participate in a multi-artist lyric comic project (we're almost done!); and believe me, I don't have *that* huge a reach.

I've always been a person who joins a fandom and then tends to stick around for about 10 years (maybe a little less; sometimes more). But because I've been in fandom this long, I've observed that how long a person sticks with a fandom varies hugely. It's very personal! Some folks will be active for a few months. Some will stick around for a few years. Some will be long-haulers. That's been true for decades.

In my personal experience, based on people I follow, I can also see that "The Adventure Zone: Balance Arc" (which ran from 2014-2017) still has people creating for its fandom. (I'm not *in* its fandom but I follow people who are. So I can't speak to how big a fandom it has at this point, but it's clearly still there.)

This is not a refutation of the original post, here. It's more to say, in a hopeful way, that older ways of doing fandom are still in operation; even for fandoms that have arisen relatively recently. I'm sure if someone tried to survey active fandoms, you'd find more. It's not ALL high-paced content-producer driven.

Yeah, there's a distressing amount of that, and there are people for whom that has become the pace of their engagement with fandom. I can't say whether they *like* it, or not. But I can say that there are still a good number of people who reject the whole "the show's over, time to close up and move on" thing. Who do still enjoy fandom itself -- the community -- at a bit of a slower pace.

Not people saying “Fandom has always been like this” in that vent post I made. No. It hasn’t always been like this. Fandom has NEVER been like this until recently and if you were in fandom pre-tumblr purge, pre-twitter, pre-netflix boom, pre-tiktok….then you would fucking know it was nothing like this.

We still had the drive to create. We still sold prints and charms and made zines…but it was never like this.

The introduction of streaming, binge shows that drop all at once, tiktok and vine RIP i still love u vine but you were the beginning of a particularly ugly era) creating this bite sized, quick paced ‘content’ era of creation and it bled out into fucking everything else.

Fandoms didn’t die down when the show ended or the season was over. You didn’t mass unfollow artist, writers or moots just because they changed fandoms. There wasn’t this need to please the algorithm in order for your posts to get seen by people and enjoyed.

Fandoms used to last YEARS. Star Trek is literally the oldest running fandom out there and you got people in there that could care less about the new stuff and still have been happily prancing through their fucking fifty year old fandom today. Hell, even SPN after all it’s fuckups and shitshows has a dedicated fanbase STILL creating tons of art and fic.

There is no patience anymore. No calm feeling of taking in fandom and friends at a pace that which doesn’t make you stressed and is still fun.

Do I blame fandom for this? Of course not, but people are complacent with it and start changing their vocab to accommodate and end up making the situation so deep it cant be fixed.

We call Art & Fic Content now, completely stripping the value of what it is to a level of consumerism instead of personal entertainment & community bonding.

#fandom #fandom history #persistent fandoms #meta #gravity falls

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bigearsbunbun · 1 year ago

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2nd day in 10th grade 08/30/23

I slept a little early than usual since I literally got 4 hours of sleep yesterday so I slept at 1AM....When I woke up I was still tired as hell since I accidentally forgot to turn off my 7:10AM alarm.....god worse mistake I ever made dude I was so tired and I tried to stay awake this time since I didnt want to be waken up by my 8AM alarm because I was just sick of hearing the alarm 2times so I immediately go on with my day starting with.........tiktok of course nothing surpising abt that...ALSO the new curtains that I tried on my windows literally made the room so much lighter since its white and it lets the light of the sun through the thin fabric...

Anyway at 11AM I started getting ready for school and ended up getting to school at 12:22PM like I was getting indecisive about what to wear and had to rush in and out of my room to get the accessories that I forgot to put onT.T...

when I got to the school it was PACKED sigh and when I got to our classroom it didnt start yet to I was relieved, to pass the time I read some one piece so I couldnt get bored waiting for the teacher:DD...

After like 15 mins the teacher finally arrived and started discussing about the policies of the school and the do's and don'ts..... literally had to sit and listen to that for 2 FHOURS my butt hurts from sitting broTT like pleaaaaaaase RELEASE ME..

when it was snack break I saw some of my friends outside waiting for us, we started to visit our other classmates but some of them were still in class and their teachers havent dismissed them for snack break yet...also I couldnt give eshy the snacks I bought yesterday as a pay back because she was still in class and I felt shy to go in so I just joined some of my friends walking around the building as we ate our snacks:DD

then snack break is over I sat on my seat......the teacher didnt really made us do that much and we already did all the stuff for today so we just had to wait for her to dismiss us....it was boring....like really boring....I ran out of chapters to read since I forgot to download more so I felt even more bored...so then I started sketching....there werent really any stuff in the classroom that was interesting it didnt really have that much stuff so I started sketching my bracelet and some characters online and that lasted for 10 minutes.....after a few more minutes for waiting they finally dismissed us....oh no I just realized tomorrow is our turn to clean the classroom....kinda lucky though since tomorrow I'll wear PE its so comfyyy..

When I got out of the classroom I saw my friend lets call her den!! I'm lucky to have her as a friend shes so sweet... we chatted as we wait for eshy to get dismissed from class so we were just downstairs....I showed my new sketches and she liked them!! I really want to improve more and Im proud to say that I have been sketching for a few days straight which is pretty rare for me so it feels nice to finally feel motivated about practicing my art skills:DD

when we were finally complete we chatted for a while with some other friends:DD one of them got voted as a president and won shes pretty smart and kind so I think she'd do great as a class president...but the bad part is.... the vice president is our creepy past classmate....he's literally the worst person on earth in my opinion... he literally touches people for no reason and its hella sexual too!>:[ ugh and also that guy cheats in quizzes....pretty happy that he's not my classmate this school year..

It was finally time to go home and we all parted way at the gate...I took a ride home because I couldnt really walk anymore since I picked the worst shoes to use today...it was my moms shoes and its smallT.T (I'm bigger than my mom)

Aaaand I got home:D my poor feetT.T I will never ever wear those shoes ever againD:...

I took this photo on the way home!! the sun was still up since it was 4:30PM I took a pic of some of these flowers:DD (eshy likes these flowers)

anyway thanks for reading this far!! have a great day byeeee!!(*/ω＼*)

#rambling #high school #journal

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maniculum · 2 years ago

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The College of Grotesque Arts -- Week Nine

For new people, I’m doing the Dungeon23 megadungeon project, basing each room on the marginalia of a different page in the 14th-century Luttrell Psalter. Previous entries in this project can be found here.

I spent all of March slacking off on this project, but I’m trying to catch up now. Let’s see how successful I am at that endeavor. So, this post should have gone up a month ago, but let’s do it now.

As usual, I generated the whole level before I started filling in the rooms. And, I know I complained about the results of using Appendix A on Level Two, but I swear Level Three is worse. Martius, the wizard who ran this level of the dungeon, seems to have been really into an architectural school I can best describe as “annoying to draw”. The Annoying to Draw school places an emphasis on unnecessarily complicated intersections and circular rooms. I hate the circular rooms. After only having one on the first two levels, this level has three. And the intersections… on two separate occasions, a section of passages got so pointlessly complex that I just erased the little wedges of remaining wall and called it a room. In the case of Room 3.28, this still resulted in a room that would be an incredible pain to describe (it was, like, an irregular rhombus with one curved edge) so I just replaced it with a box of roughly the same size and called it good.

As a result of this, I’ve decided Martius was an insufferable hipster, which is a big downgrade from the largely positive portrayal of him you might have gotten from his tower aboveground (carrier pigeons and love letters). The only thing I like about the design of this level is the one hilariously long diagonal hallway, which I think has some pizzazz. I know, I know, you’re thinking “well just change it.” I probably will make a lot of adjustments as I go, but you know, trying to stick to the randomly generated material is what makes it an interesting exercise.

Anyway, the map for this segment is below the cut with the rest of the content. It’s not as bad as the next few, but you can kind of see the disaster coming.

Room 3.1: f.42v

Off to a weird start. Appendix A wants a small room with a fear-inducing gas trap. The Luttrell page for this one is lavishly illustrated but it’s hard to decide what to use. We’ve got three variations on “worm-thing with face”, a weird bird, something that might be a harpy with a vine-like tail, and this disaster:

I legitimately tried to think up something to do with that disaster, but I could not come up with a way to give it an existence that was not sad and pathetic. So we’re going with the weird bird thing — which kind of looks like it might be involved with fear-inducing gas, so I guess that’s for the best. We’re making the room bigger for them, though.

This room is very strange-looking. Up until around ten feet from the floor, it’s fine, though there are a lot of pillars, placed a bit more densely than other rooms. Ten feet above the ground, though, all of the pillars are connected together by horizontal stone “branches” in a strange kind of webwork drop-ceiling. Some of those “branches” are broken — you can see pieces on the floor — and others look newer & cleaner than the rest. It’s clear the Caretakers on this level occasionally maintain them.

Perching on those stone branches are a number of forhtuls. These are bird-like creatures, roughly the size of a parakeet, that seem to have been equipped with long, pointy ears. In addition, rather than feet, they have a pair of prehensile vine-like appendages that they use to wrap around those weird stone branches. They also have a unique defense mechanism: when they feel threatened, they can release a gaseous substance that causes anything that breathes it in to feel a sourceless, directionless terror. They definitely feel threatened when someone comes into their den, so everyone needs to make their Will saves now. If the gas doesn’t cause the intruders to leave, they will descend on them and start pecking for 1 damage a shot, which would be an incredibly embarrassing way to die.

Forhtul: CR 1, XP 400; N Diminutive Magical Beast; Init +3; Senses Low-Light Vision, Darkvision 60ft; Perception +0

DEFENSE: AC 17, touch 17, flat-footed 14 (+4 size, +3 Dex); hp 15 (2d10+4) Saves Fort +5, Ref +6, Will +0

OFFENSE: Speed 10 ft., fly 20 ft. Melee peck +3 (1d2-3); Space 2-1/2 ft.; Reach 2-1/2 ft.; Special Attacks Fear Gas (15ft. radius, DC 15)

STATISTICS: Str 4, Dex 16, Con 14, Int 2, Wis 10, Cha 10; Base Atk +2; CMB -5; CMD 8; Feats Ability Focus (Fear Gas); Skills Fly +8 Special Qualities Magical Beast Traits

SPECIAL ABILITIES:

Fear Gas (Sp): A Forhtul can emit a gas that causes everyone within a 10-ft radius to experience fear (as the fear spell). This is a mind-affecting fear effect that allows a DC 15 Will save to resist. The gas itself is slightly magical, and will not function in situations where magic would not be efficacious.

Room 3.2: f.43r

Speaking of Caretakers, it looks like that’s what we’ve got in this room, because that’s the most reasonable interpretation of both the grotesques on this page, so I’m just picking one.

Caretaker Four is a construct that’s been shaped to look human from the waist up — though with an unusually long neck — but has a pair of sturdy, outward-pointing, animal-like legs. It seems to have been rather artistically designed, including not only fine garments, but even simulated hair styled in a way that was presumably in fashion when it was new. It could never pass as organic under close inspection — all of its parts are metal, but expertly shaped, painted, and maintained; the hair is actually extremely fine gold wire. It carries with it two large golden bells, which are enchanted to aid in its duties as well as to produce a supernaturally lovely musical tone. When not in use, these bells attach to clips on its belt. (Additional information under stat block.)

Caretaker Four: CR 10, XP 9600; N Medium Construct; Init +8; Senses Low-Light Vision, Darkvision 60ft, Blindsense 30ft; Perception +11

DEFENSE: AC 28, touch 16, flat-footed 22 (+4 Dex, +2 dodge, +12 natural); hp 92 (13d10+20); Saves Fort +4, Ref +10, Will +4; DR 5/- SR 25

OFFENSE: Speed 30 ft.; Melee 2 slams +21 (1d4+8); Special Attacks Gaze of Compliance (DC 18)

Spell-Like Abilities (CL 13; DC 15 + spell level):

At Will — Create Food and Water, Deep Slumber, Minor Creation, Prestidigitation.

3/day — Fabricate, Hold Monster, Telekinesis, Wall of Force.

1/day — Forceful Hand, Mass Suggestion, Stone to Flesh, Flesh to Stone.

STATISTICS: Str 26, Dex 18, Con 0, Int 0, Wis 10, Cha 10; Base Atk +13; CMB +21; CMD 35; Feats Improved Initiative, Lightning Reflexes; Skills Perception +11; Special Qualities: Construct Traits, Swift Reactions

SPECIAL ABILITIES:

Gaze of Compliance (Su): An opponent that meets Caretaker Four's gaze within 30ft. becomes charmed (as charm person) for 1 day unless they succeed at a DC 18 Will save. Anyone subject to this effect becomes convinced that Caretaker Four possesses consciousness (it doesn’t) and is strongly motivated to please it by ensuring all other creatures in the area are well-behaved and relocated to their appropriate areas if necessary. A successful saving throw negates the effect. Each opponent within range of a gaze attack must attempt a saving throw each round at the beginning of his or her turn in the initiative order.

Swift Reactions (Ex): Caretaker Four moves and reacts much more swiftly than normal constructs. They gain ‘Improved Initiative' and ‘Lightning Reflexes' as bonus feats, and gain a +2 dodge bonus to AC.

Bell of Material Repair: When rung, casts make whole on both the user and an object of their choice within 30ft. Can be used 6/day.

Bell of Beaſt Repair: When rung, casts cure critical wounds on both the user and a creature of their choice within 30ft. Can be used 3/day.

As usual with Caretakers, Caretaker Four is not interested in combat or engaging with the PCs in any way unless provoked. If PCs initiate combat, interfere with its duties, or try to steal one of those useful bells, Caretaker Four will engage in the following way.

Caretaker Four’s first resort is its Gaze of Compliance ability. If this does not seem to be effective, it will use mass suggestion — as with all Caretakers, this is an automatic feature with no agency or verbalization on the part of the Caretaker. Targets are simply compelled to calm themselves, cease combat, and return to whichever room they’re supposed to occupy (the last may require some interpretation). If this fails, Caretaker Four will use forceful hand, hold monster, telekinesis, wall of force, and deep slumber to immobilize the PCs and relocate them itself. If pressed, it will resort to nonlethal unarmed strikes and its once-daily flesh to stone. (The target will be revived with stone to flesh once they have been relocated.) It is also capable of using the Bell of Material Repair to heal itself if the fight is going badly.

Room 3.3: f.43v

Lots of stuff on this page — I decided to expand this room to fill the entire space between the passages here to fit it all. However, since the passage originally leading to this room was a long curving quarter-circle corridor, that made things look a little odd… so I decided to finish the curve into a full half-circle and put the room inside that space. Which meant a first for this dungeon: a room that crosses page borders. So now it’s also poking into Week Eleven, but I feel less silly about putting lots of stuff in it.

This room is built with a strange hemispherical construction — the east wall is straight, but the ceiling, floor, and west wall form a sort of dome that reaches high above, and, presumably, far below. (If the PCs decide to check into this for some reason, the highest point of the “dome”, about 80ft off the ground, does in fact come pretty close to clipping into Room 2.3. You’d have to go through a few feet of stone, though.) In addition to pillars supporting the ceiling, there are several buttresses spaced along the wall. The northern half of the room is planted with several oak trees, and the southern half is an artificial pond with a stone walkway in a “T” shape over it. Said walkway can be used to reach a door further down the east wall, and is also not visible on this map because it’s on the Week Eleven one.

The oaks are, in fact, squirrel oaks, and there are a number of oak squirrels present. (I know that’s not really a squirrel or an oak leaf, but it’s the same kind of critter, so I’m just rolling it in.)

The pond is populated with hand geese, which are in every way identical to regular geese except they have a fully-functional human hand on the tops of their heads.

Atop one of the buttresses is a serpentine wyvern, which will attack as soon as it becomes aware of the PCs. This is a wyvern variant created within the College, less intelligent (holy crap, I forgot wyverns have Int 7) but more physically dangerous than a regular wyvern. This is a variety of creature that has become known to the world outside the dungeon, so a Knowledge (Nature) check can get information about it. It behaves in a slightly unusual way: it’s not just interested in eating the PCs. In fact, given the opportunity, it will eat only one and leave the others stung & paralyzed on the ground while it retreats back up onto the buttress.

This behavior is for the same reason that the serpentine wyvern is known outside of the dungeon: its reproductive habits. Its sting is not just a weapon; it can also be used to implant eggs in opponents of Small size or larger. (Smaller creatures aren’t big enough to provide the young with sufficient space & nourishment.) The poison in the sting that causes paralysis is technically separate, but the wyvern can use both in a single attack, prompting two separate saving throws. Given its druthers, the serpentine wyvern will paralyze its opponents, eat whichever one looks tastiest, ensure the rest have been implanted with eggs, and then retreat out of range. (Okay, if you have a good ranged weapon, you can still reach it; the highest part of the tallest buttress is only ~60ft off the ground.)

Once implanted with an egg, it’s difficult to get rid of without knowing exactly what’s going on and getting medical attention from an expert. (GM’s call whether this actually counts as a disease for the purpose of remove disease.) The egg takes up to a month to develop and hatch; once the month has elapsed, whether or not the host has survived, a young serpentine wyvern will emerge from the host’s body. (This can cause extra damage if you want to go the chestburster route.) If the host is dead or severely debilitated, the young wyvern will then feed on it.

Serpentine Wyvern: CR 7, XP 3200; N Large Dragon; Init +3; Senses Low-Light Vision, Scent, Darkvision 60ft; Perception +12

DEFENSE: AC 19, touch 8, flat-footed 19 (-1 size, -1 Dex, +11 natural); hp 104 (9d12+45); Saves Fort +11, Ref +5, Will +8; Immunities Paralysis, Sleep

OFFENSE: Speed 50 ft., fly 100 ft.; Melee sting +15 (1d8+7 plus paralysis, plus egg) , bite +10 (2d6+7 plus grab); Space 10 ft.; Reach 5 ft.; Special Attacks Swallow Whole (2d6+11, AC 15, 10 hp), Fast Swallow, Grab (bite), Paralysis (1d8 rounds, DC 19), Egg Implantation (Ex) (sting-injury save DC 21, onset 1d3 days, frequency 1 day, effect 1d3 Con damage, cure 4 consecutive saves)

STATISTICS: Str 24, Dex 8, Con 21, Int 4, Wis 10, Cha 10; Base Atk +9; CMB +17 (+21 grapple); CMD 26; Feats Ability Focus (Egg Implantation), Combat Reflexes, Flyby Attack, Improved Initiative, Iron Will; Skills Fly +13, Perception +12, Stealth +11; Special Qualities Dragon Traits

SPECIAL ABILITIES:

Egg Implantation (Ex): A Serpentine Wyvern can implant an egg in its opponents. Mechanically, this can be treated as a disease with a Fortitude save DC of 21, an onset of 1d3 days, a frequency of 1 day, causes 1d3 con damage, and takes three consecutive saves to cure.

Fast Swallow (Ex): A Serpentine Wyvern can use its ‘Swallow Whole' ability at any time it has an opponent grappled as a free action, instead of just at the beginning of its turn.

Grab (Ex): If a Serpentine Wyvern hits with its bite attack, it deals normal damage and attempts to start a grapple as a free action without provoking an attack of opportunity. Grab can only be used against targets of a size Large or smaller.

Paralyze (Ex): When a Serpentine Wyvern hits a target with its sting attack(s), the victim is rendered immobile for 1d8 rounds. The target is allowed a DC 19 fortitude save to negate the paralysis effect. Paralyzed creatures cannot move, speak, or take any physical actions. The creature is rooted to the spot, frozen and helpless.

Swallow Whole (Ex): If a Serpentine Wyvern has an opponent grappled in its mouth (see Grab), it can attempt a new combat maneuver check (as though attempting to pin the opponent). If it succeeds, it swallows its prey, and the opponent takes bite damage. Unless otherwise noted, the opponent can be up to one size category Smaller than the swallowing creature. Being swallowed causes a creature to take 2d6+11 bludgeoning damage each round. A swallowed creature keeps the grappled condition, while the creature that did the swallowing does not. A swallowed creature can try to cut its way free with any light slashing or piercing weapon (the amount of cutting damage required to get free is 10). A Serpentine Wyvern's stomach has 15 AC. If a swallowed creature cuts its way out, the Serpentine Wyvern cannot use “swallow whole” again until the damage is healed. If the swallowed creature escapes the grapple, success puts it back in the attacker?s mouth, where it may be bitten or swallowed again.

The serpentine wyvern prefers to use its Flyby Attack in combat rather than hanging around to let the PCs beat on it.

(A lot of the faces in this section of the manuscript just look really unhappy. Both the horse and the rider seem very worried about something off the edge of the page.) In the pond, one may find the skeletal remains of a horse and a human, previous victims of the serpentine wyvern. The human is Osamunda, a ranger who died exploring this dungeon some time ago. Her equipment is extremely battered and anything organic and non-magical has rotted, but the rest of her possessions can be found near her skeleton in the pond muck. These possessions include a Horn of Antagonism.

Room 3.4: f.44r

Speaking of unhappy faces, check out this Jesus. He is going through it, probably because the artist has decided to make him hold a realistic depiction of his own death.

Seriously, look at that face. Tell me that’s not the face of someone having some sort of existential trauma.

Anyway. This room contains a nest of thyrnit-worms in a pile of wrecked wooden furniture. (At least two, add more if your party is high-level enough that this is not a real threat.) These serpentine creatures have rabbit-like heads, a set of three tentacle-like tails they can use to grasp things, and a thorny hide. They are aggressive and dangerous; they attack by wrapping themselves around an opponent and gouging with the spikes that protrude from their hide. They can also bite, but it’s less effective.

Thyrnit-Worm: CR 4, XP 1200; N Small Animal; Init +2; Senses Low-Light Vision; Perception +0

DEFENSE: AC 17, touch 13, flat-footed 15 (+1 size, +2 Dex, +4 natural); hp 39 (6d8+12); Fort +7, Ref +7, Will +2

OFFENSE: Speed 20 ft., climb 20 ft.; Melee bite +9 (1d4+4); Special Attacks Constrict (1d6+4 plus Thorns), Thorns +9 (1d6+6)

STATISTICS: Str 18, Dex 14, Con 15, Int 2, Wis 10, Cha 10; Base Atk +4; CMB +7 (+11 grapple); CMD 19 (21 vs. grapple); Feats Ability Focus (Constrict), Greater Grapple, Improved Grapple; Skills Stealth +11; Special Qualities Animal Traits

SPECIAL ABILITIES

Constrict (Ex): A Thyrnit-Worm can crush an opponent, dealing 1d6+4 bludgeoning damage, when it makes a successful grapple check (in addition to any other effects caused by a successful check, including additional damage).

Thorns (Ex): When a Thyrnit-Worm uses its Constrict ability, it also gets to make an attack roll (+9, 1d6+6 damage) to gouge its opponent with its thorny hide. This does not impact the grapple otherwise.

Among the wreckage of furniture that comprises their nest, the PCs may also find the remnants of one of their past victims (not in great shape after being eaten by worms, but all the bones are technically present). Godelina was a wizard and her magical equipment remains mostly intact, as does a satchel of coins — though she was the type of person to ward her purse with explosive runes.

Boom. Week Nine done, only a few weeks late.

#dungeon23 #college of grotesque arts #d&d #dnd #dungeons and dragons #ttrpg #medieval art #medieval creatures #medieval #marginalia #illuminated manuscript #pathfinder

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the-hydroxian-artblog · 3 years ago

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can you tell us more about the imps??? your ocs baxter and clay are really funny

To be clear, I designed Clayton for a friend! But yes, Baxter is my own, the first imp I ever designed (and kinda the.. only one I really draw, since imps aren't as popular as my other robots. for that reason, thanks for asking about them!!)

Imagine if for any kind of magical setting in any time period, there were just. These guys. These mostly short, dwarven-ish, kobold-ish robot-imps that did construction work to help make those giant, crazy castles you see in concept art, or all those spaces that are "bigger on the inside" that fae folk live in, and you sorta get what they are.

Now, for the meat and potatoes.

Cyber Imps are mechanical, corporeal demons made purely of machine parts and synthetic flesh, and have little to no actual magic themselves. Instead, their ability to calculate probabilities via just observation makes them masters of artificing, insurance planning, architecture, and more rarely, medicine. Most imps can calculate the time a building will fall over or when a person will die from natural causes, down to the year. This is known as their "risk sense", in which they can sense the natural risk of "failure" for anything they observe. Humans, fae, cryptids, or otherwise, have contracted them throughout history to help build all sorts of things, and when imps build something, it usually lasts a very, very long time.

Imps technically operate on a caste system, but due to their "risk sense", they often revolt against any given leader who isn't competent enough at their job and is too risky to follow the orders of. Most imps can also just bail from a clan to start their own, so kinda a not-so-indentured servitude situation. They used to live more feudally, but later adopted a more anarchist/libertarian-ish approach to their work, doing things in exchange for simple resources like oil or even money (if an imp tells you your civilization's currency is too risky to invest in, invest in something else quick.)

Culturally, imps are mostly brash and extroverted, and appear to be extremely reckless daredevils due to their risk sense. In reality, they can do seemingly riskier things because they know when certain actions are actually much safer to perform. Because they can also self-repair and are just really durable in general, they like to get into actually unsafe stunts anyway, as more likely than not they'll either walk away from it, or get their pieces picked up by trusted buddies and get welded back together in no time at all. They like to play with guns recreationally. Don't gamble against a cyber imp; These fuckers know how to win at coinflips just by watching you flip a coin enough times first.

On that note, most imps who go solo in life will usually be some form of freelance gunman, or form a small pirate band or private military squad with others. in this instance, they're a lot like the sort of mooks you'd find on the final stage of an fps game; tanky, hard-hitting, and too good at evading your own aim.

Baxter is an agile, skilled marksman, and is really fucking annoying for most adversaries to fight. He's trained via methods that are considered risky by imp-standards, and has honed his own risk sense to borderline pre-cognition levels. Most martial arts are virtually ineffective on him as long as he can see the movement of your own limbs within a millisecond, unless you have any kind of super-speed.

Imps are virtually immortal, save for really poor maintenance or flaws in their hibernation mode in the worse cases. If an imp dies but their brains are salvageable, their memories and skills are uploaded into a database, and re-inserted into a new imp. This usually done with the pre-written consent of the imp. Often times, those memories and skills are scrambled in some way for the sake innovating on the previous donor, but donors can request as much of their original selves to be reinstalled as possible.

It can also be done with human brains. It's as disorienting as it sounds.

That's the broad-strokes of it all. If anyone wants to use them in a tabletop campaign, I literally only ask for credit for the initial idea and notes provided. Otherwise, go nuts.

#Cyber Imp #Character Design #Fantasy Race Design #Baxter #anthro #scalie?#kemono #eh

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tepperz · 2 years ago

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I wanna talk about fanart in the early days of the internet.

My one friend it up quite nicely,

“Like any amateur art on the internet, Fan art is astronomically ubiquitous online, There have been various methods of uploading fan art and original amateur art on the internet, The earliest yet most popular method of upload fan art is Bulletin Board Systems, Back in the early days of the internet, Artists would upload fan art by the use of a BBS. Most companies didn't mind about any fan art made by amateurs at that time, but some users did get in a bit of trouble for it. Another early and popular method to upload fanart was Usenet, They usually upload it in binaries on newsgroups including original art, Like BBS, Companies didn't mind about fan art being uploaded on Usenet, Yet another method upload art and also the most popular method is email, Users usually send fanart and original art to other users as a hobby rather than professional reasons and financial gains, They also do it as a gift, art trade or a commission, other methods such as FTP is used to archive art along with ISPs, Mini servers, Local server locations and IRC.”

I would like to expand on that.

Back in the early days of the internet, and I'm talking, like... before 2000, the common things were forum threads, as was mentioned. However, at the time, rather then fanart, the thing that was actually most popular were role plays for me? Fanart has never been new, but it wasn't really seen as a "thing" like it is now. People didn't really make a lot of art of media they enjoyed. Like, there definitely was some, but you have to remember that the quality was really different back then. People didn't have access to digital art tools unless they were professionals. That started changing around 2000-2005 or so, but even then they were the minority. Most people had to draw with their mouses or trackpads if they wanted anything digital done, unless they came from a rich family. People who did fanart mostly did, like, really silly humor pieces rather then illustrations. Memes and really derivative stuff. And the popular people who could draw digital anime art and speak English could be counted in the double digits and were almost exclusively on deviantart. I think I got my first wacom tablet in 2008, for about $200 from a bestbuy. That was kinda the only way to get it back then. So back to role plays, what im getting at is that people didn't really make a lot of fanart so what they did is they wrote stories with their friends. What people did is say "naruto rp" and then, like, take anime characters they found off google and claim it as their oc. Everyone did that. No one drew their oc because everyone was mostly kids and no one really knew how to draw anime art at the time. Fanfiction was even bigger then it is now. There also wasnt smart phones back then and old phones didn't really upload pictures to the internet, and when they did it was bad quality. you basically had to own a scanner to upload anything or get lucky with a phone that actually kinda worked for that (most didn't). What that means is a lot of awkward traditional art thats hard to see and, frankly, not super well drawn most of the time. I guess what I'm trying to say is that derivative works were always around but as far as "fanart" it wasn't the thing that it is today by any means.

it's kinda weird to talk about but i guess a lot of people nowadays don't even know this stuff. anyways, I used to roleplay on neopets which was literally the THING for anyone growing up at the time. That was most people's integration into roleplaying, actually, since it was mainstream. Afterwards, I migrated to a forum site called playanime.com and it looked like this

At the time I thought the site would last forever because there was no context for things on the internet disappearing at the time. But it turned out that it was a public server hosted by this one couple who liked anime and they couldn't keep up with the cost of the growing site so it had to be shut down after a few years. All of the roleplays and friends I made vanished after a while without being fully documented afterwards and I'm sure I'm not the only one. It was a wild west of websites where no archiving was properly done and most servers were hosted by ordinary people with passions just like that. Here's an example of the type of "fanart" that was being shared back then. Circa 2005, it's a picture of a blorbo from a show being shipped with one of my friends self insert oc, which I drew and shared privately to make them happy. Back then, all I had was original Windows Paint and a scanner. This is a pretty good example of the standard quality back then and what "fanart" looked like.

#old internet #internet archive #millennials #gen z #fandom #fanart #long post #text post #my art #behind the scenes #i just think its an interesting conversation #and might help some kids learn about different experiences #idk #archive #archiving #call me Johnathan smith cause im archiving

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ragingbookdragon · 4 years ago

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Finding Love In The Louvre

A Bruce Wayne x Reader One-Shot

Word Count: 2.2K Warnings: None

Author's Note: An old story I edited! Enjoy the fluff! -Thorne

The day started as it usually did, her standing by the elevator, waiting for the doors to open so she could hand him his coffee and explain his schedule. Sure enough, the doors opened at eight A.M. on the dot, and he stepped out, briefcase in one hand, phone in the other. He shoved his phone in his pocket, accepting the outstretched coffee she held. He moved quickly, but she kept pace.

“Good morning Mr. Wayne.” He hummed in return, taking a sip of the coffee; she paid no mind, continuing with, “So today you have a board meeting in room one-forty-two,” His mouth opened to complain, but she held up a hand, silencing him, “I can’t put it off any longer, I’ve already tried.” He grumbled in return, causing her to smile lightly as she kept speaking.

“That starts in an hour, and it should end at eleven. I recommend after that you go and check with Lucius about the gala coming up while I order lunch. I should have that ready by twelve-fifteen, then the rest of the day is paperwork and the occasional friendly visit with the office workers.”

By the time she was done, he was taking a seat at his desk, shifting papers around. She stood with her tablet in one hand, the other propped on her hip. “Anything you need me to do before I go sit down?”

He handed her a sheet while he looked at the monitor, waiting for the retina scanner to start. “Fax that to Gotham Academy, if you would.”

She took it, looking it over before asking, “This for Damian’s field trip to the Louvre?” He nodded, and she murmured, “I still can’t believe you managed to talk the headmaster into letting you fly his class to France for a couple days.” She eyed him over the top of the paper. “You know you’re going to have to go, right? You got the trip allowed. It’d look bad on your part if you didn’t go.”

He finally looked over at her, a curious sparkle in his eyes. “Have you ever been to France, (Y/N)?”

She tipped her head side to side. “If you count a plane ride over France while on the way to Holland, then yes. But have I been to France? No.”

Bruce leaned back in his seat, hands curling around the arm rests of his seat. “Do you want to go?”

(Y/N) raised an eyebrow. “And keep an eye on a group of rambunctious teenagers? Uh…no. I already have enough trouble keeping your group in check.” Bruce gave a laugh at her words, but she followed with, “But if you need me to go with Damian, I can work it into the schedule.” He nodded, and she tapped at her screen. “Alright, I’ll fax the paperwork with our information for travel.” She turned, making her way to her desk when his voice reached her.

“Wait! Our inform—I’m going too?”

She simply threw a thumbs up, sitting at her desk.

***

She settled into the cushioned seat, a sigh of relief slipping through her lips.

An amused voice sounded beside her, “Getting comfortable (Y/N)?”

She hummed, pushing the button to recline her seat. “Eight hours in first class? Are you kidding me? Of course, I’m getting comfortable.” Bruce grinned, settling into his seat the same as her. She watched him groan as he lifted his legs, stretching them out.

A knowing tone came up and she said, “I told you not to wear hard-bottomed shoes. You should’ve gone with sneakers.”

“Why do you enjoy torturing me, (Y/N)?”

She laughed at his words, looking over at him. “I tell you not to do things and you do them anyway. It’s not hard to find the chastising humor in it.” Bruce opened his mouth to reply, but it was cut off by a small huff, and they both looked over, seeing his youngest son collapsing into a seat beside them. (Y/N) reached over, gently caressing the top of his head. “Don’t want to hang around with the simpletons anymore, Damian?”

He nodded and closed his eyes, curling up in the seat. “I have never met a group of kids more idiotic than my class.” His eyes flew open, and he leaned across the arm rest, a sneer on his face. “Just last week, that troglodyte Trevor made a comment so ridiculous, even his reasoning was absurd.”

(Y/N) nodded and asked, “What’d he say?”

Damian scoffed and replied, “He said that he wanted to be like Achilles because he looked cool.” She waved a hand for him to continue. “So, I said, ‘Really, you want to be a man that throws a tantrum when he doesn’t get his way?’ And this fool had the audacity to look at me like I had just asked him-”

His rant was cut off by Bruce, who said, “Damian, enough.”

Damian rolled his eyes whispering, “I cannot stand how stupid they are.”

(Y/N) snorted, leaning close and telling him, “Give them a chance, Damian.” The look he gave her made her wish she’d had a camera, and she continued with, “You have to remember, these people haven’t been schooled like you have. You’re more advanced than the average thirteen-year-old. They’re still learning how to switch classes without a teacher escorting them.”

Damian leaned back, a look of thought on his face, then he retorted, “They are still stupid.”

(Y/N) reached over, handing him a book. “Here kiddo. Keep yourself occupied.”

He took the book, flipping it over. “What is this, ‘Hell Divers’ about?” (Y/N) popped a cracker in her mouth, pointing to the back. He read it silently, then made a motion to hand it back. “Doesn’t look interesting.”

(Y/N) swallowed and put another cracker in her mouth, shifting it to the side of her cheek with her tongue as she pushed the book back. “I brought the whole series.” She grinned at him, holding up the set. “I bet you can’t read the entire thing by the time we land.”

Damian scowled, snatching the books from her, and opening the first one. She gave a satisfied smile and turned back to the front when she felt eyes on her. (Y/N) looked over, seeing Bruce staring at her, his eyes narrowed in suspicion.

She raised an eyebrow questioning, “What?”

He tipped his chin towards Damian. “How’d you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Get him to read something he didn’t find interesting?”

(Y/N) reached over and condescendingly patted his arm. “The same way I get you to buy new suits every gala.”

Bruce looked at her in confusion. “And that way is?”

(Y/N) reclined in her seat, pulling her blanket up to her chin and pulling the eye mask down her eyes. “I tell you that someone there might be able to out dress you, and that spurs you to make sure you look the best.”

She couldn’t see him, but she could picture his face and arms as he pouted, “So you manipulate me?”

“With all the care and affection you need Mr. Wayne.” And that was all she said before rolling over and curling up and drifting off.

***

“And stay with your guides at all times! Chaperones, if you get lost or separated from your guide, you have Mr. Wayne and my cellphone numbers, please call, do not stay lost!” (Y/N) looked at the chaperones and guides. “Does everyone understand?” Cheers and nods came from all sides, and she waved them off. “Then be free! Curfew is at nine P.M.! Be there before nine, please! And be careful!” Her words fell on deaf ears as the groups dispersed, and she groaned lightly, rubbing her temples.

A hand rested on her lower back and she looked up, seeing Bruce smiling at her. “Don’t worry so much, (Y/N). Everyone will be fine.” She nodded, trusting his words, then he tipped his head to the side. “Damian’s hailed a cab. Let’s go hit the Louvre, then we’ll go to lunch.” She followed him to where Damian was holding the car door and slid inside.

***

The drive didn’t take long, and soon they were walking around the museum. Damian had wandered off, waving his hand, and saying, “I can handle myself.”

She and Bruce simply nodded, watching him go before they set off themselves. They walked around, observing the pieces, until (Y/N) saw a particular one. Her feet sunk into the ground and she stopped, staring at it in admiration.

Bruce glanced between them. “Nike?”

She nodded, telling him, “I remember learning about her in Humanities back in community college, but I never actually imagined ever seeing her.” (Y/N) paused, a calm look coming across her face. “Pictures don’t do her justice. She’s more impressive than I thought. And bigger.”

Bruce listened to her, then asked quietly, “Do you like art, (Y/N)?”

She tipped her head side to side. “Here and there. I like pieces that catch my eye or look interesting.” She glanced at him. “I really enjoy history and science museums.” (Y/N) reached over, nudging him in the side. “Maybe for the next fieldtrip, you can fly us to D.C., and we can hit the Smithsonian.” (Y/N) stepped away and nodded to the next room. “C’mon, let’s go to the next exhibit.”

He fell into step beside her and as they observed the next piece he murmured, “Would you like to go to the Smithsonian, (Y/N)?”

She half focused on his words, absentmindedly replying, “Whenever the next field trip comes up, sure.”

A gentle grip took her hand and she looked over, seeing a serene look in his eyes, and he asked, “No…would you like to go to the Smithsonian…with me?”

(Y/N) blinked, then gestured clumsily between them. “Like…just us?” He nodded and she clarified, “Me and you…together?” He nodded again, a smile accompanying it, and she couldn’t help but ensure, “No one else? Just…us?”

Bruce huffed a laugh, gently squeezing her hand. “Just us.”

(Y/N) felt her cheeks warm, and she looked down, mumbling, “Oh…I…I don’t know if the schedule is clear…”

Another squeeze followed by, “As the boss, I can clear any and all plans made.”

Her heart fluttered at his words, but she pushed it aside, glancing back at him, her eyes firm. “Are you being serious with me right now? You’re not pulling joke?”

Bruce’s eyebrows furrowed and he admitted, “I don’t actually know if I should be offended that you think I’m playing a joke or not, but to answer your question, no, I’m not pulling a joke.” He let go of her hand, trailing his fingers up her forearm, the other arm curling around her. “I’m being one-hundred percent serious.”

He gave her a smile, blue eyes shining. “I would like it if you spent the weekend with me in D.C.” He paused, lips pulling downwards as he added, “Or just spent the weekend with me. We don’t have to go anywhere…if we’re together, that’s all that matters to me. I just really want you—”

(Y/N) cut him off, pressing her lips to his cheek. He grinned at her, watching as she murmured, “I would love to go to D.C. with you, Bruce.” She pulled away, slipping out of his grip, and wandering off towards the next room. He stared at her back, heart thumping in his chest when a voice sounded below him.

“Took you long enough.” His mood soured, and he looked down, seeing Damian standing there, arms crossed over his chest.

“When did you get here?” He asked.

Damian glanced up at him and muttered, “Since the start of your embarrassing courting.” Bruce reached over and ruffled his hair, laughing at how Damian slapped his hand, a glare in his eyes.

“It wasn’t embarrassing.”

“Not to you. But the others were considering throwing up.”

Bruce’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Others?”

Damian simply held up his phone, and Bruce looked into the eyes of his other sons who were returning his gaze, albeit smugly.

“So, (Y/N)’s finally gonna join the fray? Cool!”

A hand shoved Dick’s head aside, and Jason looked into the camera. “I’m seriously surprised it took you this long, old man. I mean, how long has she been your secretary? When Dick got there?”

A new voice picked up from the side, and Tim’s head squeezed into view. “Actually, (Y/N) was there before Dick got there. She was there when Bruce started working at W.E.”

Dick’s head shoved Jason’s aside, and his snarky grin appeared. “But the point is, nice going, Bruce! It’s only taken you like seventeen years to get her to go out with you! You must be one weird guy for it to take so long. Maybe it’s because—”

At this point, Bruce had grunted, turning on his heel and marching off after (Y/N). Dick sputtered through the camera, “Damian! Go after him! I haven’t finished explaining his problems!”

“There’s not enough time in the world to explain all the old man’s problems.”

“You’re one to talk, Jason.”

“I dare you to say that to my face replacement.”

Damian rolled his eyes, shutting off the phone and walking after his father, a smug smirk playing at his lips.

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imaginesntingz · 4 years ago

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Haikyuu Headcannons: When they’re obsessed with your 🍑 (Oikawa Tooru, Ukai Keishin, Kozume Kenma)

Warnings: Swearing, not super explicit/nsfw, but suggestive content so I’ll put it below the cut just in case

A/N: What’s good everyone? Here’s something that I’ve stayed up way too late working on. It’s 5 in the morning and I’ve forgotten my own name. Let me know if y’all want a continuation with other characters. They all ended up being setters in this one so I just went with it I guess. All characters are aged up and 18+. I hope you enjoy! Please don’t copy any of my writings. My content is originally written and I put a lot of time and effort into each piece. Ask me before reposting.

Oikawa Tooru:

Of course he’s respectful when you’re in public, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t noticed the way that new skirt he bought you last week accentuates your ass in justtt the right way.

You’ve caught him staring a few times and he always plays innocent like the sly little shit that he is.

You called him out once, but you know your mans is dramatic

“You wound me, (y/n) chan! What kind of a man do you take me for? I’m a gentleman! Honestly it’s not all that impressive anyways”

“Sounds like someone’s projecting”

“(Y/N), YOU TAKE THAT BACK RIGHT NOW!”

“You blatantly asked for the smoke, so I kindly obliged~”

“I was just kidding, baby! Why’d you have to come for me like that? 😭😭😭😭”

You had one brattykawa on your hands after that one. Dats tough

Anywhooo

Once you two are alone OOF. This. Bitch. Is. SHAMELESS.

He can’t keep his hands off of you. Doesn’t matter the size or shape

Your ass = Tooru magnet

He could pick you out in a crowd of people based on that booty alone

You’ll be cuddling on the couch, you're on top with your head on his chest just watching a movie and enjoying each other’s presence. Then BAM he’s got both cheeks in each hand, squeezing and kneading firmly

“Neee, (y/n) chan~ You’re so soft, baby girl~ How is that even allowed? Damn you’re so gorgeous, princess”

You: Head Empty

You're bent over the kitchen island scrolling through your phone? This mans is playing patty cake on your buns. Those setter hands are dangerously powerful. Of course he knows how to restrain himself as to not hurt you but whew some of those spanks leave you deliciously breathless and your little gasps are like music to his ears… which usually leads to other tingzzzzz and Tooru teasing you for walking funny the next day

Could his ego get any bigger? I don’t know if we’d survive it

Wearing his favorite pair of leggings or those cute pajama shorts? It’s on sight. You’re trapped beneath this painfully beautiful brat of a man and you wouldn’t have it any other way

And lawwdd if you know how to twerk. He might just faint on the spot

RIP Oikawa it was for a good cause

Ukai Keishin:

Oh boy

Keishin gives me serious ass man vibes. Idk what it is

He worships you in every way possible, but that ass holds a special place in this cranky man’s heart

After a long day of working with crops, managing the store and volleyball practice, this man is tired and grumpy. Hinata somehow managed to almost meet his eternal rest when he was nearly hit by a TRUCK and a CAR and a BIKE and a STATIONARY POLE trying to outdo Kageyama while racing in the neighborhood. He swears those kids have taken at least ten years off his life span.

This man is v stressed

So when he comes home to find you reading in bed on your stomach in nothing but his t-shirt and those sexy panties that show off that beautiful bum… Honestly he could’ve cried he was so geeked.

He teared up a bit ngl (He’d never admit it tho)

This guy swan dived into bed, wrapping his arms around your waist, nuzzling his face into your glorious cakes

“Bad day, hon?”

“Mmmphh”

He took a fat nap right then and there

He was so bitchy and whiny when you woke him up to change sleeping positions (as long as you let him slip a hand on a cheek when you got comfortable, he’s a happy camper)

He just loves feeling the warmth and weight of it in his hands, it’s comforting to him and feels super grounding idk

But boy oh boy does this man love to give it a good smack or two or ten

Watch out bb 😈

He’ll spank you anywhere anytime, but he’s real sneaky about it in public….until he’s not LOL. It just depends on the environment and who is around

Like Oikawa, the strength in those setter hands will have you shOOk to the core especially a seasoned one like Kei

One time you were doing your morning stretches, slipping into downward dog and HO. NEY. Keishin was already pulling you flush against his pelvis and smacking that 🍑 like a djembe drum until tears pricked your eyes. Your whole body was vibrating with desire it was WILD

“Ohhhh, sweetheart. You are a work of fucking art, you know that? You’re not going anywhere today. That’s a promise.”

And that’s how you ended up with twins. Not sorry.

10/10 would recommend

Kozume Kenma:

Listen Linda

It took a while for you to notice

But Kenma is truly OBSESSED with the booty

It took him a while to even admit it to himself tbh

He would look away immediately when he caught himself staring

And he may have appeared chill on the surface but blondie was internally screaming as you literally sat on top of him while he was gaming

He was so hesitant poor bb was overthinking it so hard. He just didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable or think he was weird etc etc

It was confirmed to you when you started waking up in the middle of the night to a fully unconscious Kenma giving your ass subtle squeezes in his sleep

You’ll literally have to sit this man down and be super direct about it

Once you give him the go ahead chillle it’s on and poppin

Only when y’all are alone of course cuz as we know, Kenma is v shy and a very private person

He’s not the pda type in general

Again, he loves it when you sit on top of him when he’s playing video games. Especially when you straddle him. His hand does this smooth slide down your back that sends shivers down your spine before settling over the swell of your butt. He’ll give the occasional rub and caresses your thigh softly. Another muse of his. Kenma LIVES for your thighs. Would happily be suffocated by them. Whoops. Squeeze them around his waist or grind into his lap and you’ll be on your back faster than you can say yes please

When you’re cuddling, he’ll just start jiggling that cake in his hands. He finds it fascinating, soothing and unbelievably hot all at once. The perfect combination in his opinion.

“ . . . Kenma?”

“Hm?”

“Watcha doin back there?”

*continues in concentrated silence*

“Babe??”

“. . . You’re like a sexy human stress ball . . So soft . . So cute . . So squishy . .”

“Ummmkay?”

My mans is hypnotized. He would do that shit for hours if you let him let’s be real. That thang is thangin

He would buy you ALL of the jeans, leggings, shorts, dresses, hoodies, crops, shirts, skirts. Everything and anything that fits your body type in all the right places, Kenma is on it and good lord is he invested. He absolutely spoils you. Blondie bae is surprisingly good at keeping your style in mind while also pushing you to try new things that end up making you look stunning. Big ups

The only time Kenma has spanked you was in retaliation. You wanted to see his reaction to being spanked. So once when he was distracted by his switch, you slowly walked up behind him and SMACK

Kenma nearly dropped the damn switch 😤 You’ve never seen this boi whip his whole body around and bend you over so fast

Two swift yet heavy blows to your backside had you rethinking your whole life. Everything about that moment lives in your head rent free

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un2-verse · 4 years ago

Text

BILLY — Kim Taehyung (2)

pairing: taehyung x f reader

genre: horror au, yandere au, saw/john kramer au

synopsis: News of a Sadistic Serial Killer nicknamed “Jigsaw” is spreading around town like wildfire… the nickname stemming from the puzzle piece he cuts from every victim’s body. No one knows who he’ll trap next but in a town full of delinquents and criminals, it could never be you. Right?

warnings: mentions of suicidal thoughs, abusive relationships, stalking etc. dont read if triggered. there are some ?? fucked up things in this but idk what to word them. but also mentions of self harm/self hating thoughts.

wordcount: 2.2k

a/n: unedited so pls forgive me for any mistakes and lmk if u want to be added to a taglist^^

series masterlist

part one part three

You’d spent a couple of hours in the café with Taehyung. Jimin popped over every now and then to talk with his best friend and to make sure you had everything you needed while there.

When you left, Jimin wrapped his arms around you as he bid his farewell, “It was lovely to meet you Y/N! Please, don’t be a stranger!” You simply nodded your head as you pulled away from the hug. You grinned back at him as he moved to Taehyung. You opened the door, carefully stepping outside to leave the boys with some privacy.

Once the door shut Jimin’s smile beamed, “so she’s the girl you’re always talking about, Flower? Right?”

“Yeah she is, thanks for that though man but, I’ve gotta go. I’ll see you later?”

Taehyung smiled as he made his way towards you, you looked up and he swore, he saw a hint of nervousness in your eyes, probably because it’s dark, he thought to himself. “Come on then, let’s get you home.” He held out his hand, you were quick to grab a hold of it. Taehyung intertwined your fingers as he tugged you back across the road, “it’ll take about twenty minutes, you gonna be alright to walk?” he glanced down to you.

Your heart warmed at the way his eyes smiled with him, “I’ll be fine, thank you.” He seemed happy enough with your answer as you fell into a steady rhythm. You felt a little conflicted, you may not know Taehyung well but he had an energy about him that made you wanna spill every secret you knew, you’d shared pointless stories while you were at the café, having learnt Taehyung was a family oriented person, he loved art and he was passionate about little subjects other people would deem small. Yet he had a warmth that you’d not seen in anyone else.

Fuck it, you thought, he’s shown nothing but kindness, you may aswell open upto him… atleast.

“I was in an abusive relationship.” Taehyung felt himself smirk but quickly wiped it from his face, he arched an eyebrow as he looked down to you, “it was my first too. It left me, fucked up, in a way. Not that I wasn’t already fucked up.” Progress. He squeezed your hand in reassurance, go on… “I’ve always been insecure and uh, uncomfortable with the way I look. After that disaster of a relationship, it left me worse for wear.” you kept your eyes on the road, you didn’t want to see the judgement on his face yet it didn’t stop you from carrying on, “I never told my friends or family about it. None of them knew I was struggling before it anyway so I’ve been letting it tear me apart.”

“Why tell me then doll?”

You risked a glance at his face. There were no traces of judgement or pity. Swallowing down your nerves, you added softly, “I had to tell someone. Even if that someone is a random person— who showed me kindness when I needed it.”

Taehyung felt his heart clench, she’s already trusting me… this was easier than I thought. “Don’t feel like you need to tell me anything baby,” I already know it all.

You felt your cheeks burn from the pet name, how could something so simple, affect you this much? God, talk about a schoolgirl crush. “That’s the thing, I don’t feel like I need to. I just, I want to.”

Taehyung presented you with his boxy grin, “Then you can tell me anything you want, whether it's big or small.”

“Thank you Taehyung.” It was like the sun had shone down on you, the simplest gesture meant the world. Here you had a person willing to talk to you about your darkest secrets. A person willing to listen. Someone who had no ties to your family, which made it easier for the words to flow from you, “It’s like, I was this happy, care-free kid. I smiled without forcing it and when I laughed… I felt free. I didn’t feel like I was losing my breath. Not like I do now, everytime I do so much as breathe, it's like these roots have twisted around my lungs and everytime a breath escapes, they crush them tighter. It’s like a reminder. You’re never fully alive. You’re never fully happy. Pain overrides any other emotion. I’ve learned that, after all those years. I used to think, I’d never accept it.” A solemn silence fell over you. The roots squeezed your lungs even tighter as you whispered, “I’m scared of living.”

“Flower, some people are anchored to this world by their feet, others by their fears. You don’t have to voice it, I know you’re scared. You have your fears. Your demons. The thing you were doing at the cafe; is destructive. Anything that harms you, is destructive. Fuck, it may only be something as simple as picking your skin but that can lead into bigger things.”

It already has.

“Taehyung, I know that. I knew when it started but it helps, it lessens my anxiety. You’re the only one to have picked up on it. My friends… they don’t notice. If they do, they don’t mention it.”

Taehyung scoffed, “You really think anyone on this planet is your friend?”

Your mouth was sewn shut. You didn’t want to admit it but, there was some truth to his words.

You walked home in silence.

That night haunted you. It forced its way into your dreams. It clouded your thoughts when Yoongi and Hoseok were with you. When you’d spent time together, you were vacant. A soulless body. It was like a poison had found its way into your brain, second guessing relationships and people’s motives.

‘You really think anyone on this planet is your friend?’

Why were you letting it get in your head so much? You knew your friends. They were the only ones you felt safe with. They were your friends for a reason, they supported you (albeit sometimes they had a sense of… tough love) but they always had your back.

You didn’t mention Taehyung to Yoongi or Hoseok. You felt as though that was something that should be kept between you and him. Plus, the duo would’ve felt betrayed and upset by the fact you had wandered into foreign territory alone and found company in a complete stranger-- especially after they’d warned you about the whole Jigsaw shit.

To save the arguments, you went about your life as usual. You helped out your Mum with the flower shop, the array of flowers made you realise how the simplest things were beautiful. That of course, didn’t include yourself. Rancid thoughts clouded what was once, a tranquil space. Those god forsaken roots hadn’t lessened. Breathing was still difficult— as was pretending that you were absolutely fine.

You avoided mirrors, a quick glance could wreck your entire mood. You hated people taking photos of you, it made you scrutinise every single thing.

My nose is too big.

My chin is too round.

My face just shouts ugly.

My legs are disgusting.

My stomach is embarrassing.

My boobs are weird.

Not to say, you didn’t have these thoughts on the regular. However, the more you eluded your appearance, the voices lessened. You could ignore the way you looked, forget it completely. Often convinced yourself you were a plain person. The stereotypical norm: someone that no one would look twice at. It helped you get on with everyday tasks, it helped you ease the anxiety.

After all, every flower must grow through dirt.

But how would you react? If you knew, he had all the pictures of you?

Tuesdays you worked at your Dad’s garage. You didn’t know much about cars but you enjoyed his company. As well as spending time with Hobi and Yoongi. You often found yourself pranking the former with Yoongi, little jokes that luckily, didn’t piss Hobi off too much.

Today though, you were late. You’d had to spend more time trying to find the more appropriate clothing… you didn’t want people to see the slashed lines of red that littered your body.

After you messily threw an outfit together, you made your way down to the garage. You found your eyes trained on the silver Nissan Skyline, mouth agape as you collided into something.

You felt hands grab your shoulders, “Watch where you’re going,” Yoongi brought his hands to ruffle your hair, “gotta be careful while we’ve got that here kidda. That fuckers expensive.” He released a chuckle as you rolled your eyes, softly elbowing him out the way.

Your dad was under the bonnet, a box of tools were scattered around his feet. Organised mess, your Dad was infamous for it.

“Sorry I’m late Pops, what do you want me to do?”

Not even a second later, your Dad turned to face you, “Ah darling, not a lot while we’re working on this. Can you go make us some drinks?”

“Yeah course, I won’t be too long!”

You passed Hoseok on your way to the little kitchen situated at the back, he sent you a wink as he shouted across, “Coffee for me kidda!”

Three cups were spread in front of you. Americano for Yoongi, Coffee for Hobi and Cappuchino for Pops. Just as you were about to shout the guys, a presence had situated itself comfortably behind you. Before you had time to turn around, a deep baritone voice addressed you, “You not gonna ask me if I want a cup baby?”

You felt yourself still. You knew that voice. The voice that was haunting your dreams, even your wake.

You really think anyone on this planet is your friend?

Taehyung watched the way your body tensed, your shoulders stiffened, your breathing altered. Hm, she’s nervous. How cute.

“What are you doing here?” the words passed your lips, delivered as though they were encased in thorns.

A deep chuckle filled the room, “What do you think I’m doing here?” Taehyung inched closer, the atmosphere was almost palpable. You felt the way his chest brushed against your back, a sudden chill shot through you as he brought his hand up— which grazed against your skin whilst he moved your hair from your neck. His eyes turned hungry at the sight of your goosebumps. Your heart raced when he brought his head lower, lips next to your ear, “You think I’m here for you baby?” I am… but you don’t need to know that just yet.

You spun around, squashed between the table and Taehyung. Heat radiated off of him, how can he be so hot? It felt like you were in a furnace (while face to face with the Devil.)

Fear stricken, you tried to fight through it. Don’t show him. Don’t let him see. With a sarcastic smile plastered on your face you retorted, “Of course you are Taehyung. You tracked me down using the information I gave you and figured out which Garage is ours.”

The sarcasm was practically dripping from your tone like venom. Taehyung felt himself stifle a laugh.

You just didn’t know. In all fairness, you didn’t know anything. How would you know that Taehyung had done exactly that, except he’d done it months prior.

He lowered his head to yours, your hands raised to push him away but Taehyung wrapped his fingers around each wrist and tugged them to lay between you before you even had the chance to nudge him. You felt like you were stuck in a Venus fly trap.

“I’m not some type of sicko, doll.”

You were just a naive, misunderstood, little girl.

“I’m getting my car fixed. Your dad’s working on it right now.”

Your body visibly relaxed, releasing a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “Oh, the Skyline? Wait, you have a car and made us walk back to mine the other week?”

“I didn’t make you walk for the fun of it baby, my car is literally in the shop so obviously it was broken.”

Only, the car was perfectly fine when you met him those weeks ago. He had made the pair of you walk so he’d have more of a chance to speak to you and to touch you. The only way he could follow you around without being suspicious, especially at your dads work, was to have a somewhat reasonable excuse (which resulted in him messing with the engine). He knew although you’d shied away from him that night, he could easily win you back around.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry Taehyung. I’m also uh, sorry about how that night ended.”

“Don’t sweat it, I know what I said came off a little... weird but I didn’t mean any harm.”

With an angelic smile on your face in return, Taehyung knew that soon, that smile would morph into a grateful one. After all, he was going to help you.

Until a person is faced with death, it’s impossible to tell whether they have what it takes to survive.

Live or Die.

Your choice.

He had first seen you out and about last year. However, he had first heard of you when the guys working for him had slammed a file onto his desk, Subject #13 was scrawled on the top. Filled to the brim with pictures of you and everything about your life down to the littlest detail.

L/N Y/N— D.O.B 03.11.02— 19 years old.

Phone number: XXXXX.XXXXX

Female. Lives with parents at: 171 Norm Street, Falfield F91 7DW. Was outcasted at school but befriended a Jeon Jeongguk [19 years, male. 92 Carriers Road, Cressage CY5 3EA. XXXXX.XXXXX].

Ex partner is Kang Jaehyo. [23 years. Male. Abusive and manipulative, laid his hands on Y/N multiple times leaving bruises and scars. Sexual abuse was also discovered. Have been broken up for 4 months. 13 Walkers Drive, Falfield, F73 1DL XXXXX.XXXXX]

Y/N has suicidal ideations (as well as 7 attempts). Self harms by “cutting” “punching” and “scratching”. Diagnosed with Depression and Anxiety Disorder on May 13th 2016. Works at Toret Garage and Letty’s Floral. Both places owned by parents.

The web of lies and deceit had barely scraped the surface.

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writings-of-a-hufflepuff · 4 years ago

Text

Of Academic Interest

Fandom: Indiana Jones

Collection/Series: Tribute to/Part of @alloftheimaginesblog ‘s ‘Secret’s Out’ Saga world.

Pairing: Indiana Jones x Plus Size Female History Lecturer Reader (Glasses are mentioned very briefly)

Writer: @writings-of-a-hufflepuff aka @hufflepuffing-all-day-long

Rating: T

Warnings: N/A

Summary: You’re one of the newest history lecturers and Indiana turns up to watch your open lecture on the Cult of the Beautiful Dead

Notes: I love Angela’s Secret’s Out Saga, i’m happy that I get to send her requests and see the amazing things she writes for it and lately i’ve been getting the urge to write something for the world/au/series.

This is a homage, a tribute, to it, obviously none of this is canon unless Angela says so.

This is set before Indy and the Reader are dating.

All facts come from an essay I did at university on the Cult of the Beautiful Dead, which I also did an hour long presentation on.

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You were relatively new to the history department at Marshall College and were somewhat of a novelty to students and staff alike having only been there for a few months. Being one of the few female professors and on top of that specialising in some more taboo or ground breaking historical takes on the history of gender and sexuality, you had successfully caused quite the stir.

The majority of your colleagues were accepting, happy to have you and generally interested by your studies and research. Despite being relatively new to academic teaching they were supportive, although there was a small subsection of the humanities department who, in typical old man fashion, talked down to you, treated you like a coffee girl and disrespected your expertise. You had taken to stealing their students from their modules and attracting them to your modules instead as a passive form of fighting back.

Students were clamouring to be taught by you, to get onto the list for your modules or to get to see your open lectures. You were the only member of the faculty who talked about the more riveting elements of history such as prostitution, sexualisation, and even ghosts. In comparison to the same lectures on Anglo-Saxon England and the Civil War, you were significantly more interesting to the student population. That did not, however, remove sexism within the student population. While female students actively enjoyed your lectures, got involved more so than in other modules, and felt a sense of comfort in a more female friendly space, you found that a small portion of the student male population tried at every turn to either explain your own specialism to you or to discredit you. You had long since taken to finding it rather amusing, especially when most of those individuals were failing your course.

You had been asked many months ago to prepare an open lecture on the history of surgery and medicine, the faculty head had told you to pick any topic you wished so long as it was well researched and you could put on a good lecture for the student population. For some it might well be their first ever history lecture, for others it was just an addition to their usual workload, nonetheless you’d chosen a topic that was of interest to you and that you felt confident presenting.

Standing before a podium in a large lecture hall, you push your glass further up the bridge of your nose and flick through the pages of notes in front of you to temporarily distract yourself from the crowds of people that were slowly making their way inside and to seats. It was a large hall, one that could hold upwards of 200 people and despite years of public speaking under your belt there was always an anticipation, a sense of nerves, before you began a lecture or presentation.

You checked the microphone on the podium, happy to find it in working order and smiled at a few familiar faces in the front row, some of your students who had apparently decided to spend their free period listening to you talk some more. Checking the time you waited a few more minutes before choosing to start, letting the last stragglers find a seat or for those unlucky enough to stand at the back after all seats were filled. It was a large turn out and you could feel those nerves buzzing in the pit of your stomach as you cleared your throat and picked up your notes.

“Good morning, everyone! Thank you for coming despite your busy schedules to hear me drone on once more about dead people,” Light laughter and small chuckles filled the space as you began, your students looking at each other with a shake of their heads. “Today i’m going to be talking to you about something called the Cult of the Beautiful Dead in Victorian medicine. Specifically surgery.”

You find yourself drifting from the podium, pacing across the stage even as this requires you to speak louder without the microphone. There is a familiar energy in your body that demands you move as you speak, to expend it in some physical way. “The Cult of the Beautiful Dead pervaded the world of art within the 18th and 19th centuries. It has been defined as ‘a subjective fascination with idealised images of the deceased in such a way that permanently embalmed bodies and stable images displace and replace impermanent reality’, but I would characterise it within medical and surgical art somewhat differently.”

You stop briefly, give yourself time to breathe and them time to process your words, in that brief moment your eyes glance across the crowd and spot a familiar face that makes your cheeks warm and your heart stutter. Professor Henry ‘Indiana’ Jones Junior.

Professor Jones was known throughout the history and archaeology department for his digs, his finds, and his immense knowledge, that and his good looks and charming persona. He was friendly, enticing, handsome, and treated you as an equal. While you could not consider yourself friends, you did have a healthy respect and rather decent crush on the man. In fact, the only reason you weren’t friends, you suspected, was your inability to talk around the man without stuttering. He had no reason to be at your lecture, but he’d come anyway, in fact it looked as if he were the only member of the archaeology department present.

You forced yourself to tear your eyes away and continue, “It is the idealised image of the female body on the dissection room table or the surgical bed with her flowing hair, her soft, pale skin, her perfect, unharmed nature and her sexualised passivity which characterises the Cult of the Beautiful Dead within medical art. On your seats you would have found copies of a painting by Henri Gervaux and an illustration by Hasselhorst, I will be talking today about these pieces of art and how they fit in with the realities of the dissection room.”

You move across the stage again, wait as they find out their papers and find yourself looking over at Dr Jones again. He is intent in his observations of the papers in his hands, interested, actively engaged and that is a bigger compliment than anything you think. It would be heartbreaking, you decide, if he were bored by or disinterested in your lecture. While you don’t need his approval, you are an academic in your own right, you do desire it.

You continue on when he looks up, shifting your eyes away quickly, “In the 19th century women were less likely to be patients of surgeons than men and even when they were operated on they were by no means symbols of the Cult of the Beautiful dead. See Before the Operation by Henri Gervaux,” You wait for them to find the print of the painting, “It is a portrait of Dr Pean, a French Surgeon, and depicts the moment before an operation on a young woman and fits into the ideal of the Cult even though the woman is anaesthetised and not dead.”

In this fashion you continue your lecture, moving across the stage discussing the sexualisation of the female body in medical art and the realities of surgery in comparison. You’re highly aware of Dr Jones’ eyes on you as you move across the stage, to the point that you stumble at points in your oration. As time goes on you find yourself relaxing under his gaze, accepting that he is here purely out of interest, not to judge you or pass criticism. His active engagement with your lecture, the notes you can see him scribbling down in a notebook, is rewarding and reassures you that he is enjoying himself even on a topic so far removed from his own studies of ancient civilisations and centuries old artefacts and skeletons.

You reach the end of your lecture, returning to the podium and straightening your skirt, “Are there any questions?”

Hands pop up across the room, but it is one in particular that you are drawn to. You don’t expect him to ask questions, you don’t expect him to have any, but you are a little scared to hear what he has to say. It shouldn’t scare you, this active academic engagement, the meeting of minds, but you so desperately do not want to make a fool of yourself.

“Dr Jones?” You gesture for him to go on and ask and he stands in response. Tugging at the tweed waistcoat and adjusting his glasses on his nose.

He smiles at you as he begins, “Dr Y/L/N,” He addresses you by your title, formal and respectful. You are reminded, once more, that he has never failed to treat you as an equal. Unlike some of the other male professors, “I was just wondering what your opinion was on the eroticisation of death in this period?” You let out a little laugh, for no reason other than a little relief at the ease with which you can answer that question.

“Thank you for your question Dr Jones, well art such as Hasselhorst’s helped to eroticise death in the 18th and 19th centuries, death became equated with beauty, even if the reality of the dissection room failed to live up to the standards of the Cult of the Beautiful Dead. What we see is death portrayed often as a young woman. She is often portrayed as beautiful with long flowing hair, a fair face, a soft pale body, naked, open to the eye and most importantly passive. The dead woman in this period is a passive object, dead, yet sleeping, immortally captured at her most beautiful and unable to object to any sexualisation or objectification. She cannot talk back. Death is an obsession of the Victorians and it’s prevalence in medical art like Hasselhorst’s shows just how deeply connected death, beauty and the erotic became at this time.”

“Do you think we’ve continued that desire for passivity today? The way in which we expect women to act?”

“What do you think, Dr Jones?” You turn the question back on him, eager to hear his opinion, knowing that your own certainly sees the way 1930s society demands passivity from women even if death is no longer eroticised in the same way.

“I think we’ve perpetuated that desire for passivity from women within our society, demanded they hold their tongue, keep themselves in check and in place and as objects of desire, but not too much or else they’re no longer respectable. I think we expect women to be passively sexual, unknowingly so, innocently so, yet they must be attractive else their worth is diminished. An outspoken or intelligent woman is demeaned, pushed out from academics or workplaces. Don’t you agree?”

“I do.” You take a moment, give him a smile before answering the next question and the next and the next. You expect him to leave like many of the other members of the audience once his question has been answered, instead he stays, listens to your responses to each question and pays you rapt attention.

You find yourself even more interested in Dr Jones than you were before. His acknowledgement of the treatment you and other women have faced when attempting to make a name in a career or in academics is refreshing and his engagement with your lecture is enjoyable and endearing. You curse him a little for making your crush, your infatuation deeper simply by coming to your lecture.

You find yourself packing up your notes at the end, listening to the sound of feet leaving as you grab your notes and stuff them into your leather satchel. A tall shadow falls over you as you heft the bag onto your shoulder and you smile up at Dr Jones as he stands before the podium notebook in hand, he folds the glasses off of his nose and pockets them.

“How did you enjoy the lecture, Dr Jones?” You run an anxious hand through your hair and twist your wide hips in a nervous movement, always finding yourself a little flustered when one on one with the man. There’s a part of you that worries about coming under scrutiny from him, the part that has so often been judged in life for your gender, your area of study, and your weight. Years of nasty comments, suggested diets and family obsession with the size of your body had created a paranoia almost, a sense of expectation. You were just waiting for the scrutiny to be voiced.

“It was one of the most interesting lectures I've had the pleasure of watching. You should write a book, it might be a worthy next research project and please call me Indiana.”

“Only if you call me by name. I think we can both drop the doctor? I wasn’t expecting to see you here, I...I didn’t think the Victorians would interest an archaeologist.” In truth the idea of Indiana Jones wanting to learn about people not long dead, a period which rarely requires archaeological excavation and has few true mysteries, had never crossed your mind.

“In all honesty?” There’s a pause as he looks away from you with a charming smirk before turning back to you, teeth showing through his smile. “You interest me. I’ve read all your books, all your papers, every time you lecture I stop at the door and listen. You’re a compelling orator.”

“You listen to my lectures?” You can feel warmth flooding your cheeks, your neck, your ears at his admission. Feel a familiar sense of butterflies flapping about in your stomach. You look down briefly, smiling at the ground before meeting his blue eyes again.

“When I have time, surprised you haven’t noticed me hovering in the doorway. You really are one of the best academics I've ever met.”

“I...thank you.” You’re a little lost for words, you have barely shared more than a few polite conversations with Indiana, too intimidated to talk in depth with him and yet here he is extolling your values and praising you.

“Don’t let Dr Carr convince you otherwise.” He taps his fingers in a rhythm on the wood of the podium, looking away from you and towards the door where you can see the much older Dr Carr standing waiting impatiently for you to leave the room for his next lecture.

“You heard...the other day.” You think back to the argument you’d gotten into with the old professor over his sexist attitude towards you, his constant demeaning comments. You had thought it had been a private argument, but it seems not. You were still rather angry about the whole thing in truth.

“Yeah, look he’s old school. Doesn’t think women should have degrees or PhDs, ignore him. You’re a better academic by far and he’s just angry that he’s been passed over for the chair again. He’s a washed up old academic, he’s only still got a job because the Dean feels bad for him.” He says the last part loudly, on purpose you’re sure, loud enough for Dr Carr to hear and turn a glare on him. You know he won’t say anything to him though, Dr Jones was the university’s prized archaeology professor, he brought in more artefacts than the other’s combined and more students. Dr Carr wouldn’t say a bad word against him. Couldn’t. It was enjoyable to watch the old fuddy professor go red in the face and huff at the doors.

“I don’t know what to say. I...Thank you. I know we don’t...we don’t really talk, but thank you, I. It’s been hard joining the faculty, it’s a very masculine environment and I...it’s nice to know there’s someone in my corner.” You think to your Grandfather telling you that academics would make you barren, cause you to go insane, think to your mother telling you to find a nice husband and settle down, that you should desire the life of a housewife alone. It has been very difficult simply getting this far and to know you have him in your corner, someone in your corner means a great deal, in a new city, a new job, a new career.

“Always.” The two of you stand there in silence, just staring at each other, despite the impatient noises being made at the door by Dr Carr. You grip the satchel strap tighter over your shoulder and tuck your hair behind your ear.

“Would you like to get some coffee?”

“Now?” You don’t have any more lectures for the day, just your office hours later to answer any student questions, but the offer still surprises you.

“Yeah, I don’t have a lecture until later and...if you’re free I have more questions.” He holds up the notebook, little post notes coming out of the side, it’s thick from writings and usage. It flatters you that he’s so interested in what you have to say, in your mind. You think it might be more of a compliment than anything physical.

“So it’s entirely professional then, Dr Jones?” You’re not sure where the confidence comes from to cause the words to fall from your lips, to cause a little smirk to lift at them as you look at him over the top of your glasses. Flirtation is one area you are not confident in, despite it all.

“Well, I wouldn’t say entirely, sweetheart...I’d like to get to know you better.” He’s utterly too charming for his own good you think and too charming for your poor little heart, but despite any concerns you have, any worries about his intentions you still find yourself agreeing. You’ve wanted to get to know him better for so long, too scared to talk to him in more than passing that you can’t let this opportunity pass you by. Refuse to.

“That sounds...lovely.”

“Shall we?” He offers his elbow out to you and you take it, wrapping your arm through his and pulling yourself to his side. He is taller, broader, and warmer than you. He smells woodsy and a little like black coffee and everything about this moment has your heart skipping a beat.

“We shall.”

You take great pleasure in the dissatisfied sneer on Dr Carr’s face as the two of you walk arm in arm out of the lecture hall.

----

Taglists:

@charradelange @belfry-bat @gabile18 @beccaboo929 @trasheater

#plus size reader #secret's out saga #alloftheimaginesblog #indiana jones x reader #indiana jones #indiana jones/reader #female reader #female identifying reader #indiana jones reader insert #indiana jones readerinsert

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clairecrive · 4 years ago

Text

"She" - Tommy Conlon x reader [Requested]

A/n: this for @cherry-season. I'm sorry for the long wait, I hope you like it even though I know it's not my best work x

Warnings: implication of smut but not really, fluff

Word count: 987

Tagging: @mollybegger-blog, @evelynshelby @br0ck-eddie, @innerpaperexpertcloud, @shadow-of-wonder, @fandom--0verdose, @sopxhiea, @fuseburner (let me know if you wanna be added or removed)

"Hey babe, are you ready to go?" Tommy's voice called from the bottom of the stairs of your shared apartment. When after a while he didn't get a response from you he decided to see what you were up to.

You had agreed to go on a date this afternoon. Just a walk around the park and getting food after like you used to in the early stages of your relationship. Taken by your daily scheduled it had been a while since you had spent some quality time together thus why you had come up with the date idea.

Not that there was any rush or anything but you should be ready by now. However, when he saw the light coming from your studio, he immediately knew you were going to be late. Time tended to escape you went you started painting. He had lost count of how many times he had to come up to remind you of the time and coax you to bed.

"Babe?" And as a matter of fact, you head your head bowed over a piece of paper on which you were carefully sketching something. He knew you were in such deep focus that you had tuned out the outside world, your tongue was peeking out between your teeth- that was your telltale.

"Y/n?" he tried again, voice soft in hope to not startle you.

Looks like third time's a charm seeing as he was finally about to catch your attention. Your head snapped up when you heard his voice and you blinked a couple of times as if to regain focus on what was around you.

"Hey, handsome," leaning up you meet him halfway to place a gentle kiss on his lips. A usual greeting between you.

"You lost track of time, didn't you?" He gently observed, cradling your face in his hands. The way they were so much bigger than yours and capable of such violence yet such gentleness never failed to amuse and arouse you.

"Why what time is it?" As they always would whenever your faces were so close, his lusciously plumpy lips caught your eyes, putting you in a trance.

"Half-past five." However, the remainder of the time soon snapped you out of it and your eyes widened as realisation struck you.

"Oh no, I'm late for our date." You exclaimed and were up from your seat in seconds, heading to the bathroom to wash the dirt from your hands before heading to your closet.

"Don't worry about it babe, we have all the time in the world." Tommy's gentle tone reached your ears as you were in the bathroom.

He got comfortable in the seat you were previously occupying and his eyes wandered over your open sketchbook. You had always been very open about your drawings and paintings and art n general with Tommy so he didn't feel like he was intruding or anything since you would have probably talked about what you were currently working on later.

As you made your way out of the bathroom, he had been flicking through the sketches and had noticed a sort of pattern and a familiar object. Every few pages or so, there was a recurring sketch and it looked a lot like his lips.

Now, you had never shied away from admiring his body both under and outside the sheets but this was new. Your love and admiration were generally aimed at his body usually but it looked like you definitely have your favourites. Tommy had never thought that someone could admire a part of his body, which he didn't think was that special anyway, so much so that your sketchbook was full with it.

Not that he was complaining. It was actually making him feel special, in a way.

And horny. That too.

If it had been a while since you've spent some quality time together, one can only imagine how long it has been since you've been intimate. Which, wasn't a problem for Tommy, he was used to going through dry spells when a tournament was approaching, but it definitely had its effects on him.

Like, him getting pathetically hard while flicking through your sketches.

Then you walked out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel and he was done for.

Licking his lips, he put the sketches away where he had found them and gave you his undivided attention. You had headed towards your wardrobe and were about to choose an outfit for your date, you felt his arms circle your waist. Then his lips left a quick kiss on your bare shoulder.

You were about to ask him what's up when he pressed against you and you definitely understood what was up.

"Not to be a party-pooper, but we're already late."

"Well, then why not postpone it completely and do some other things?" he murmured in between trailing kisses on your skin. You tilted your head to give him more space, his hold on you tightened as he pulled you closer to his chest.

His hand trailed up to the edge of the towel and slowly pushed it down, consequently loosening the knot that was keeping it up. You were lost to the feeling, the softness of his lips, the warmth of his body wrapped around you, the pressure of both his hands and the tent in his pants that you could only yield to the feeling.

There will be other dates.

#tommy conlon #tommy conlon imagines #tommy conlon x reader #tommy conlon x you #tommy conlon blurb #tommy conlon imagine #tommy conlon one shot #tommy riordan #tommy conlon fluff #tommy conlon smut #worrior #tom hardy #tom hardy x reader #tom hardy imagines

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letsdiscoverkitty · 4 years ago

Text

Treatment/Recovery Update - May 2021

Okay, I will try to ramble less in this one (so sorry!) ^ well that didn't happen!

In terms of when I did leave hospital, as I mentioned a tiny bit in the last post, my EDP was completely AWOL. A month before I was due to be discharged she came to a meeting with myself and my consultant, during which we set up 4 appointments that would be over zoom before I was discharged to help with relapse prevention and the transition home, as well as setting out, in principle, the therapeutic support that I would be getting once home...it all sounded great, so great. But as usual when it comes to my team, it was too good to be true (should have called it). I attempted to contact her when our appointments never happened but I kept being met by a brick wall; no one knew what was happening, all I got told was that she was "off"... Time passed and I was discharged with only a phone call booked in from someone from the general team to check I was safe a few days later (it was literally 5 minutes, long if that) and an appointment to do physical monitoring the next wee....a far cry from the original discharge plan *sigh* Coming home was a bit of a whirlwind. We were approaching Christmas but we were still under a lot of restrictions with COVID, so it was a very strange/messy/weird few weeks.

Time continued to pass and there was still no confirmation around therapy or support, even the ED team didn't know what was happening with L, I just continued to go to two weekly physical monitoring. In the end, with nowhere else to turn, I contacted my consultant from hospital. To say that she was mad that nothing had been in place/I had no support would be an understatement and I thank my lucky stars that she was able to get involved. It took a couple of weeks but I finally had my first session with a therapist in February. In total it took about 8-9weeks from discharge to see someone, which, well, was hard.

Upon reflection, I think one of the biggest things I struggled with with coming home was that I had literally no leave to practice beforehand. This meant that I unfortunately slipped back into old habits very quickly as, well I know it is no excuse but coming back to the same environment your brain easily slips into automatic mode and you find yourself doing what you "used" to do without realising it.

I was in, I would say, quite a vulnerable state when I left hospital (the last few months there were pretty rocky to say the least) and the day before I was discharged (as I mentioned in a previous post somewhere) I was handed 3 different, very conflicting, meal plans and the nutritionist who had previously been very horrible to me and who had been away for a number of weeks, told me that she did not think I could continue to recover at home and that the best possible case would be if I only lost a bit of weight over the next 6 months....I think you can probably guess how badly this was taken and how messy my mind was. So with 3 meal plans in hand, none of which I had practiced, with little to no support from the ED team, I was, essentially, crisis managing, simply trying to get through each day.

I know, I know. Classic kitty - stuck record. failure. mess. making a million and one excuses. trying to make out like she is fine to the rest of the world when in fact inside she was falling apart. sigh.

In terms of my weight recovery I was not discharged at a healthy BMI/weight, which my consultant was sad about, however I was in a much better place than when I was admitted (I think I had gained about half the weight I would have needed to from when I was admitted to get to a healthy weight). I will admit that part of me does wonders whether staying would have been beneficial, because on a very basic level yes it could have helped in some ways. However if I stretch my mind back to when I was still on the ward ,it actually still floods me with anxiety and fear because of how UNHELPFUL the environment had sadly become. It is hard to explain to someone who has not experienced an EDU, but the patient groups can and do make a massive of differences. I was vvv lucky that when I was initially admitted, and for the first good couple of months, it was a v supportive and recovery focused environment. However, by about late Sept/early October ,things turned completely upside down (which was not helped by the fresh COVID lockdowns either) and even staff were saying how terrible it had gotten and how they could not believe the things that they were being asked to manage on the progression ward. There were times when I felt incredible unsafe on the ward and feared for others patients, which is not "okay". I genuinely believe that staying any longer would have likely made my mental health decline further; I had already found the massive shift was negatively affecting me and I think staying would have been unwise. I had also gained quite a lot of weight and was, I hate to admit, struggling with both coming to terms with that along with dealing with everything that you are continually facing when going through treatment/recovery alongside working on trauma stuff. I know none of that is any worthy excuse, but that was how it was...At this time I was struggling a lot with my meal plan and had quite a few lapses whilst on the transition phase of the unit however despite screaming out for help/support from staff, because of the acute situation on the ward, I was just left. They knew I was struggling, I was told time and time again that they had not forgotten me, but did I get help? no. It was actually made worse by the then nutritionist who sat me down like a naughty school girl and basically told me that I was a failure and that I would never achieve anything in life blah blah blah (please see a past post if you want to know more) which made me even more scared to reach out for 'help'/'support'. So no, I don't think staying would have helped much, which is a real shame.

Therapy wise I had a bit of a rough ride in there (god I'm really selling this aren't I?!). When admitted I was not in a place for 'traditional' therapy what so ever; looking back I honestly have no idea how I was even 'functioning' (was I functioning? probably not) and even the group therapies were a struggle but my consultant stuck with me and with time I was able to process a little more. One thing that helped me beyond words was 1:1 Art Therapy. This was not something I had accessed before, only ever doing group sessions in the past which was mostly about getting away from the ward and doing a bit of art. I cannot reiterate enough how different and HELPFUL the 1:1 sessions were. The art therapy, who I knew from the last year and is an absolutely GEM, helped me to begin to process and work through the trauma that I had experienced with dad. It took a lot of time and persistence but I was able to use those sessions in so many ways and I will forever be grateful to P for supporting me (I was so lucky to be able to have 1:1 sessions for the majority of my 8 admission).

The more traditional therapy initially took the form of 30min sessions with my consultant once to twice a week (as much as I hated them, she was bloody good). I also had a review and a few sessions with the lead therapist via zoom (she was heavily pregnant so was working from home) not long after being admitted, but she soon went on maternity leave. This left me to be picked up by her student, who was actually incredible. We did a long extended piece of work on my perfectionism which, again, was SO helpful but she sadly left (for bigger and better things) and I was left hanging for a while as there were no other openings. A new lead therapist started and after a while he did a few sessions with me before leaving suddenly (I think even staff only had a weeks notice, which was ridiculous), so I was back to twiddling thumbs for a few weeks. I then met with a therapist who worked 2 mornings a week that I saw a bit during my last admission but we didn't do many sessions and it just fell away. This was mostly my fault as by this point I was questioning my admission and whether I would self discharge as there were some not good things going on on the ward, so I wasn't really in the headspace to explore things deeply and had been picked up and put down so many times that I just couldn't do anymore. Throughout that time though I continued to see my consultant weekly, mainly focusing on mindfulness and other therapy styles thrown in there too at times.

I will forever be thankful/grateful for the admission I had, especially to be under a different consultant (for COVID reasons they had to split things differently as they would usually do it by area but that wasn't possible at the time I was admitted) as her approach made a huge difference. I still remember one of the first things she said to me was that she couldn't believe/was that I had been placed on the SEED pathway and that she believed that I could be more than that, which honestly, gave me a little bit of hope (something that had been ripped apart and shredded by my usual consultant multiple times).

But back to now.... I have now been seeing a new therapist weekly (when possible) since February and, in a backwards way, I am so glad that L disappeared off the grid because the "support" I was going to be getting under the original plan was just sessions with her to do some self guided self help stuff, whereas with this therapist we have actually been doing some HELPFUL work. In terms of L, I think the last I was told she never returned to work and has now left the team (we have a sneaky feeling that she either had a complete break down or that it was due to too may complaints (mum called this a long time ago as she was not qualified for the role at all and was utterly useless), which, yeah, was strange to not get an ending as I had worked with her for a few years. Anyway, I've been doing SCHEMA therapy with this new lady (I'd not heard of it before) and at first I was a bit reluctant but it's been incredibly insightful. I continue to learn more about myself and the reasons why I may have gone down certain roads each session. HOWEVER. and this is a big however. There has been a bit of a snag in the rope.

In short, yes I have been engaging really well with the therapy side, my weight and physical health has only continued to deteriorate since i was discharged. We are talking classic kitty of slowly slipped backwards, nothing dramatic, nothing to make alarm bells go off or warrant a review, but it's not been good. Anorexia is screaming at me for saying all of this, it shouts "but you weigh so much more than when you were admitted, you are a complete fraud blah blah blah" which is all the same old boring drivel it always spews out. But basically Im in dangerous waters now in terms of losing therapy/not being able to engage with therapy properly if things dont improve. Ive been in classic stuck mode, getting so absorbed by the numbers and the bubble that AN offers, that I have been numb to it all. The HCA I was seeing was really trying to help me to make changes but she left a while ago (she was going back to train as a nurse) and since then I have had the odd appointment here and there (I think it fell to every 3 weeks for a while as there were no available appointments) with people trying to cover the clinic until someone else is hired for the role, which is far from ideal as they literally just do the necessary obs and send you on your way.

Okay that sounds like yet another excuse, which is probably is, but it's not been an easy ride since I left hospital to say the least.

BUT this past week things have begun to shift a little. I was honest with my therapist about the whole food/meal plan side of things and we actually spoke about how we can't focus on therapy things until I am in a more stable place, which is both really hard to hear but also exactly what I need to hear. I am actually being more open to change, which is a shift from where I was just a week ago. It is bloody painful, even just thinking about it all hurts/is exhausting and I am still very much in the darkness /struggling with it but there is now a little part of me that is screaming out and trying to be heard. There is a little part of me that WANTS to get out of this endless messy limbo that this relapse has been and wants to start stepping back into "recovery". There is part of me that wants a chance. And I've got to start listening to that side a little more.

I promise, the next update will be a little more positive Stay tuned.

#personal #update #If anyone actually reads this you deserve a medal #im sorry #this is a crappy update #I promise there are more positive things to come #I have things to tell you all!!!

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clumsyclifford · 3 years ago

Note

lashton prompt: luke falling asleep on skype and ashton taking the opportunity to draw him, bonus if someone else finds the sketches before ashton shows them to luke

meghna this prompt is from almost a full calendar year ago. i am proud to report that after all this time i did in fact manage to set it in spideyverse because that’s how determined i am. more info in ao3 notes but it takes place in the summer before their senior year of high school, so after the events of everything else in spideyverse so far

read here on ao3

Ashton will have to thank Maya later for the tip about the Fine Arts Room. He jimmies the door handle and, as promised, the door swings opens to reveal a darkened room full of half-finished projects. They must really take the decency of humanity on faith here. Anyone could come in at any time and sabotage any of this work.

Ashton has less nefarious plans.

He sits at his usual spot but doesn’t turn any lights on; the big windows shine just enough moonlight into the room that Ashton can see the silhouettes of the furniture, and his laptop will be on in a moment anyway. Careful of the scattered pages over his workspace, he opens his computer and loads up Skype.

Just in time for an incoming call.

Ashton fumbles with his headphones and plugs them in with one hand while he accepts the call with the other. The screen fills with Luke’s brightly-lit, highly pixelated face. Chin in his hands, elbows propped on his desk, hair a ruffled mess (from the mask, Ashton knows) — the sight of him fills Ashton with warmth.

“Hey,” Luke says, smiling his usual cheeky smile. They’ve been texting sporadically, but seeing Luke’s face — hearing his voice — gives Ashton a fluttery feeling behind his sternum. Calum would call that anatomically impossible, but he’d do it with a smirk. “I can barely see you.”

“I’m sitting in the dark,” Ashton explains. His voice is a hushed whisper even though he knows it’s absurd to be paranoid. They’re supposed to be confined to their bunks by now, and the staff and counselors will all be asleep. The only reason he and Luke are calling now, past midnight, is because now is the only time they’re both available. “I’m in the Fine Arts Room.”

“Ooh, can I see?”

“I don’t want to turn on the lights,” Ashton says. “There are windows and stuff.”

“Are you not supposed to be there?” Luke raises an eyebrow and grins. “Ooh, is Ashton Irwin sneaking around?”

“Well, if we weren’t calling at the middle of the night, I wouldn’t have to.”

“Don’t they lock the buildings?” Luke suddenly looks concerned.

Ashton shrugs. “Maya told me that if I jiggle the handle, the door will open. She was right.”

“Go Maya,” Luke says. “I like Maya. Who’s Maya?”

“My new friend,” says Ashton. “She mostly paints. We’ve got a challenge going on about whether she’s better at drawing or I’m better at painting, since neither of us really use those mediums. Hannah — one of the other campers — is going to find something for us to both paint slash draw and then there’ll be an unofficial panel of judges. It’s pretty stupid.”

“You’re smiling a lot,” Luke says, and Ashton realizes he is. “Doesn’t sound stupid to me. You think you’re gonna win?”

“No,” Ashton says honestly. “I’m pretty awful at painting.”

“I’m sure you’re better than you think. How hard can it be?”

“That’s very rich coming from you, Mr. I-Can’t-Draw-A-House.”

“Hey, fuck off! I can draw a house, thank you very much.” Luke looks down at his desk and his focus shifts, and Ashton watches in bemused patience. As he waits, he draws a blank piece of paper towards him and grabs the nearest pencil lying around. His hands move almost unconsciously, drawing lines and curves and sketching the outline of something Ashton hasn’t quite decided on yet. Luke finally lifts his head up. “Here, see?” He holds up a piece of paper to the camera, where he’s drawn a box with an isosceles triangle on top for the roof, complete with a little chimney sticking out. “House,” Luke proudly declares. “Boom. Get fucked, Irwin.”

“I stand corrected,” Ashton chuckles. He hums. “They’ll probably just find us equally talented because painting is different from drawing and blah blah blah artsy hipster bullshit.”

“Stop dismissing the artsy hipster bullshit,” Luke says stubbornly. “I’ll have you know my boyfriend deals exclusively in artsy hipster bullshit.”

“You think my drawings are artsy hipster bullshit?”

“No, babe, I think you are artsy hipster bullshit.” Luke grins widely and then gets cut off by a yawn. Ashton bites back a very cheesy comment about how Luke should web himself up for being criminally cute.

“You know what, I’m gonna let you have that one,” he says instead. “Since I am at an artsy hipster bullshit summer camp.”

“I miss you.” Luke pouts. It’s a funny look on him. Ashton tries to imagine Spiderman pouting and completely fails. Sometimes it’s hard for him to reconcile Luke and Spiderman being the same person. That this adorable six-foot-and-change beanstalk who yawns on Skype is the same person who can do a double-backflip and land on his feet on the rooftop of any building. Ashton’s boyfriend stops crimes. What the fuck.

“I miss you too,” he says. “You seem tired.”

“I’m not tired.” Instant karma is a bitch. Luke immediately yawns again, this time much wider. “Okay, I’m a little tired,” he admits, smacking his lips like a child. “Summer break is deceptively boring. I…I run out of things to do all day, so I just kinda…keep patrolling. I might be wearing myself out.”

“Jesus, Luke, take it easy on yourself. Queens goes the entire school day without Spiderman’s protection during the school year. You can handle a break.”

“Yeah, but I might as well patrol,” Luke counters. “I have the time, and it’s not like I’m doing anything else.”

“I thought you and Michael were working on new specs for the suit.”

“It’s mostly Michael. Also, I think he’s kind of annoyed about the whole 24/7 patrol. He can’t work on the suit if I’m wearing it.”

“That is true.”

“But he’s been spending a lot of his time with Calum, anyway,” Luke says coolly. “So I figure he’s probably got other priorities.”

“Well, if you keep blowing him off to obsessively patrol the city, I can’t possibly imagine why he’s making other plans.”

Luke stares through the camera. His shoulders slump. “Maybe. I hadn’t thought of that.”

“That’s why I’m here,” Ashton chirps.

Luke sighs deeply. “You’re not here, Ash.”

Ashton purses his lips and frowns. “That’s not what I meant.”

“I know, but I’m just saying. I miss you. I wish you were here.”

“Yeah,” Ashton says. He misses Luke too, more than is probably healthy. That’s what he gets, he supposes, for only having a handful of close relationships; Luke and Calum are his whole life, and not being able to hug either one of them for even a week has been pretty challenging. “But look, it’s only another week, and then I am all yours, I swear.”

“Don’t enable me,” Luke says, affronted. “You’re supposed to say things like… ‘You don’t own me’ and ‘I’m my own person’ and stuff like that.”

Ashton blinks, confused. “Uh…well, yeah, but we both already know that. I’m just saying I miss you too. But if it’s any consolation, Maya has ruthlessly mocked me for all the drawings I do of you. Like mercilessly. It’s actually kind of embarrassing.”

“That is super embarrassing,” Luke says, with a small, bashful smile. “You’re so fucking lame, Ashton.”

“Wow,” Ashton says. “You even sound like her.”

Luke giggles, which turns seamlessly into a yawn. “Hey, I came first. Maya sounds like me.”

“Luke, babe, just go to sleep,” Ashton says. “We can talk another night. Maybe one where you’re more well-rested.”

“I’m super rested,” Luke says in a monotone. “King of restedness, me.”

“Wow, I’m suddenly convinced.” Luke makes a half-hearted face at him and Ashton makes one back. The sketch under Ashton’s pencil has revealed itself to be Luke, yet again. Shocker. It really is embarrassing that Ashton defaults to drawing his boyfriend. If they ever break up, Ashton will be fucked.

“Are you drawing?” Trust Luke to notice. Although the fact that it’s taken him this long to notice means he must be slower on the uptake than usual.

“Yeah,” Ashton says, because when is he not.

“Drawing what?”

“Guess,” Ashton says dryly.

Luke gives a sleepy smile. “At least you’re predictable.”

“Luke, I’m begging you to get some sleep. We’ll talk tomorrow or this weekend or something, okay?”

Luke yawns yet again. “Okay,” he agrees, right hand propping up his head. His eyes flutter shut and then open again. “Okay, fine.”

“And please let Michael look at your suit,” Ashton adds. “You know he’s only going to make it better.”

“I know, I know, I just…” Luke’s eyes fall shut again. It seems more out of tiredness than distress. “If I give it to him, then I can’t use it.”

Ashton’s pretty sure if Luke’s hero complex gets any bigger he’s going to have to start renting out rooms. “It’ll be two days, tops,” he says. “Take two days off.”

“I wanna wait ‘til you’re back,” Luke mumbles. “Spend ‘em with you.”

“You spend most of your time with me,” Ashton says gently. “Spend them with Michael. Hell, spend them with Cal.”

“But I want…” Luke yawns. He lists sideways a little. “I want you.”

Ashton chews his lip. “I’ll be back before you know it,” he says. “You won’t be able to get rid of me.”

Luke hums absently. “‘Kay, g’night,” he slurs, but makes no gesture to hang up the call. He probably expects Ashton to end it. If Luke is as asleep as he looks right now, Ashton kind of has to.

The graphite on the sketch paper is smudging a little. Ashton glances down at the half-assed likeness of his boyfriend and has an idea.

Quietly, he grabs another blank page, moves his laptop back a little, and starts to draw.

They’re up bright and early the next day, and after breakfast Ashton follows a decidedly more lively Maya into the Fine Arts Room, where she takes her place diagonally from him at their table. They’re both mid-project; Ashton stacks and sets aside his scratch papers and pulls forth the drawing he’s currently working on.

“So? You talked to Luke?”

Ashton blinks and looks up at Maya. “Yeah,” he says. “Thanks for the tip, I meant to say.”

“Hey, don’t thank me, thank Cupid,” Maya says airily. “I’m on the side of love, baby.”

Ashton snorts and rolls his eyes. “Let Cupid know I say thanks.”

Maya hums. “Cupid says you’re welcome.”

They’re quiet while Maya gets herself set up — she has to put all her acrylics back every evening only to set them back out every morning, another reason Ashton prefers pencils over paints — and Ashton picks up his pencil and starts to draw.

“Is this yours?” Maya asks, peering at Ashton’s discarded stack of sketches.

“Yeah,” Ashton says without looking. “Just sketches and stuff.”

“Wait, this is so cute.” She’s leaning over the drawing on the top. Ashton glances up.

It’s Luke from last night, soundly asleep over Skype.

Ashton had ended the call after about ten minutes of silence, enough time to get the rough outlines of all the important shapes. The video quality wouldn’t have lent itself to a good sketch anyway if Ashton had been chasing authenticity, but fortunately he knows Luke’s face well enough — both from drawing it and gazing at it in real life — to pretend the call had had a crystal-clear picture. None of it is colored in, but it’s as obviously Luke as all of Ashton’s other drawings. Somehow, though, this one feels more personal.

“Did you draw this last night?”

“Uh,” Ashton says, reaching for the drawing. He shuffles it between several other papers so an innocuous collection of doodles is now at the top of the stack, and Maya clicks her tongue in disapproval.

“Hey, I was looking at that. It was cute.”

“Yeah, it’s— it’s just nothing.”

“It’s not nothing, it’s adorable,” Maya says. She fixes him with puppy-dog eyes. “Pleeeease can I see it? I won’t show anyone. I’m studying so I can kick your ass in our competition.”

Ashton sighs. “It’s just Luke. You’ve seen millions of drawings of him.”

“But those were obviously from memory,” Maya points out, taking his non-answer as an affirmative and sifting through the stack. Ashton doesn’t bother trying to stop her. It’s not like he has anything to hide — or at least not anything Maya could figure out by looking at the drawing.

And in her defense, Luke does look cute as fuck in the drawing, because he’d looked cute as fuck in real life.

“For all you know, this one is also from memory.”

“You drew the screen, Ash, it’s clearly from last night.”

“Well,” Ashton says diplomatically. Then he abandons diplomacy, because Maya has located the drawing and is grinning and aww-ing. “Well do you blame me? He fell asleep on our call. It was adorable.”

Maya giggles. “You guys are so fucking cute,” she says. “Y’know, most people would be insulted if their boyfriend fell asleep on a video call with them.”

“He’s been really busy lately,” Ashton says. “And it was the end of the call anyway.”

“One day, I will have someone to draw me when I fall asleep on our Skype calls,” Maya says wistfully. “I’m putting the vibes out into the universe so it’ll happen soon.”

“Maybe you’ll be the one drawing them,” Ashton points out.

Maya finally sets down the Luke drawing. She dips her brush in red paint, clearly intending to put it into her work, but at Ashton’s words instead brandishes it threateningly at him. “I won’t be drawing anyone, buddy.”

Ashton laughs. “But you’d date someone who drew instead of painted?”

“At this point?” Maya sighs theatrically. “I’d date just about anyone who did anything.”

Ashton laughs again. They work quietly for a few minutes. Ashton starts shading.

“Why do you only ever draw Luke?” Maya asks. “You said you’ve been together for less than a year. Who were you drawing before then?”

Ashton shrugs. “Uh, anyone, really,” he says. “People. There are a lot of pretty interesting people at my school, and besides, I’m from the city.”

Maya snorts derisively. “You’re from Queens.”

“Queens is in the city.”

Another derisive snort. “Queens is in the city the same way using ink stamps is painting.”

“That’s not even a little bit the same thing, at all.”

“You’re not a city boy.”

“I am literally a city boy!” Maya waves him off, but Ashton ignores her. She’s from Massachusetts. She has no leg to stand on. “My point is that there are lot of interesting people near where I live, too.”

“You didn’t ever, I don’t know, draw your friends? Calum, didn’t you say he’s your best friend from home?”

“Ah, yeah,” Ashton says. “Calum. Didn’t like when I drew him.”

“What, seriously? Why not?”

“I don’t know,” Ashton says, and it’s true. “He just asked me to stop drawing him one day so I did.” He hesitates. “...Mostly. Sometimes I still do. But if you knew Calum you’d understand why. He’s extremely good-looking.”

“Of course he is,” Maya says. “Any chance he’s single and/or interested in women from several states away?”

“No to both questions,” Ashton says sympathetically. “But good try.”

“Yeah, I figured,” Maya says good-naturedly, and they lapse into silence again.

It’s broken by Maya, again. “Do you show Luke the drawings you do of him?”

That’s a complicated question. No, Ashton doesn’t actively show his drawings to Luke, but Luke usually sees them anyway. Some of them are more private; Ashton keeps the one of Luke in the Spiderman suit sans mask folded up in the bottom of his socks drawer where he’s pretty certain no one ever looks. There doesn’t seem to be a point to showing it to Luke now, so long after he’d actually done it. But for the most part he’s not hiding his art from Luke; Luke sees what he sees, notwithstanding Ashton’s intention.

“Sometimes,” Ashton says.

Maya nods at the drawing of Luke asleep on Skype. “You gonna show him that one?”

“Uh, probably not.”

“What, why? It’s so cute.”

“I don’t know, maybe because it makes me seem like a ridiculous lovesick borderline creepy idiot?”

“Guys love that,” Maya assures him. “Or so I’m told. C’mon, why hold out on him when he already knows you’re basically obsessed with drawing him?” She taps the drawing. “And when he looks this adorable?”

Ashton breathes a laugh. “You have a point.”

“I always do,” Maya says, and she flips her hair dramatically.

Maybe Michael would let Ashton draw him. That would be a nice change from always drawing Luke and never drawing Calum. Maybe Ashton could just do it and then ask Michael what he thinks. It would be nice to have new muses. Ashton has spent a lot of time on Luke; maybe it’s about time he branched out again.

“Hey,” Ashton says, struck with inspiration as he watches Maya make brushstrokes across her paper. “Can I draw you?”

“Hell yeah, go for it,” Maya says. “I’m not sitting still for you, though.”

“I’ll live,” Ashton says dryly. Maya grins and laughs. A fresh page before Ashton and a new pencil in his hand, he studies Maya’s profile carefully and then brings his pencil to the page.

“Did you break into the Fine Arts Room again?”

“I don’t think it’s breaking in if it’s technically unlocked,” Ashton points out.

Luke squints but evidently fails to argue with this logic. “How’s artsy hipster bullshit camp?”

“Really good,” Ashton says, cracking his knuckles. His parents have told him repeatedly that doing so will give him arthritis, but Ashton suspects that’s more of a scare tactic than a fact. At this point he doubts even rehab could get him to stop. It’s the only thing Ashton can think to do with his hands when he’s not drawing. “By the way, remember the other day when you fell asleep on our call?”

I fell asleep at the end of our call,” Luke corrects him. “We were done talking.”

“Okay, weirdo,” Ashton says, shaking his head. “Well, anyway, Maya convinced me that I should show you this because maybe you’d think it was cute, or something.” He holds up the drawing of Luke.

Luke leans closer to the camera. Anyone else might have trouble discerning what’s on the page given how dim it is around Ashton, but not Luke. Luke has super-senses. His visual acuity is, like, a thousand. (Rough estimate.)

So when Luke’s face splits into a grin, Ashton knows he’s seen exactly what’s there. “Oh my fucking God, you sap,” he says. “I thought you just hung up straightaway.”

“Nope,” Ashton says. “I’m just saving moments. One day I’ll have enough for a flip book.”

Luke’s expression goes all mushy and heart-eyed. “You’re unbelievable,” he says, fond and endeared. “I can’t believe you’re not bored of my dumb face yet.”

“Are you kidding? Have you seen your dumb face?” Ashton laughs. “It’s impossible to be bored of it.”

“Ashton,” Luke says, his eyes crinkling so much that the blue all but disappears. “I love you.”

And everything makes sense.

“I love you too,” Ashton says, struck by the realization that he does. The drawings, the midnight Skype calls, the death-defying trips around the city with only his faith in Luke to keep them afloat, the fluttery feeling — all of the colors lock into place, and Ashton can see the rainbow clear as day in front of him. He’s never been in love; of course he couldn’t tell. But there’s nothing else it could be.

“Oh, good,” Luke says timidly. “I was a little worried you wouldn’t say it back.”

Ashton glances from the drawing in his hand to the look on Luke’s face on the screen, and he cracks a crooked smile. “Then you, superhero, have not been paying attention.”

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